#WISP Basestation

[otonymous]

(Otonymous’ Follower Milestone Celebration): From the Pages of Le Comte’s Diary (IkeVamp - NSFW)

Description: You happen to find le Comte de Saint-Germain’s diary by chance.  Do you dare to take a look inside? Warnings: NSFW/18+:  Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Trigger warnings: very mild hints of somnophilia & dubcon (without actual violation), mentions of death.  SPOILERS for something minor noted in Leonardo’s MS. Author’s Notes: Hey everyone!  This piece was heavily inspired by a personal headcanon I have of le Comte’s backstory and, for all intents and purposes, can be seen as a continuation to an earlier fic I wrote for him, Bitten.

(SPOILER ALERT!!) I also noticed while playing Leonardo’s route that he sometimes refers to le Comte with his name in quotation marks.  It happened so frequently that I was inclined to think that this was no mere typo.  This observation will figure in the following piece as well.

I’ve never played le Comte’s route before in the JP server and I try to stay away from spoilers, so the rest is just pure speculation on my part!  That being said, please note the potential trigger warnings listed above, and happy reading! 😊

Tagging the following lovelies: @ambrosiallkiss​, @all-my-cuffs-have-buttons​

All characters & Ikemen Vampire owned by Cybird.

17th of May, XXXX

She sleeps; soft skin taunting beneath the gossamer silk of her nightgown - satin ribbons and blush pink and almost coquettish in how it barely concealed anything of the wonders beneath:

Breasts exquisitely tipped, nipples hardening like jewels beneath the heat of my stirring breath.

Hourglass curves limned in silver moonlight spilling into her room (for even after lifetimes apart, she maintains the habit of retiring with the curtains open) — lending her the ethereal cast of the goddess Diana herself.

The shadows between her legs, darkness undulating every time she shifted upon the bed; thighs parting...then closing…then parting again as her lips dropped in a wisp of a moan that reverberated nonetheless like an orchestra in my ears.

For she had called to me.  

Writhing upon her bed in the throes of what seemed a particularly feverish dream, she had uttered my name — that which had never been revealed to her nor any of the mansion’s other residents aside from Leo.  And there is no other man I trust more with a secret.  Yet, there it was like a miracle…spilling unbidden from those perfect lips.

How long has it been since I was last addressed as such?  Not “le Comte de Saint-Germain” but by the name of my birth.  Not since she was in my arms last, hundreds of years in a past when I knew her by an entirely different name and face.

Different, yes, but beautiful no less.  And though she returned to me changed, I recognized her immediately by scent — fragrant blood ripe with the sweet spring of life, pulsing hot beneath delicate skin that flushed when I approached her that fateful day, palm outstretched like a hopeful supplicant to return what she had lost:

An earring of amethyst.

The same precious stone as the one in which I had carved the elegant profile of her face; the cameo the very first gift I had given her...and the very last piece of jewellery I adorned her body with the day they laid her to rest all those grey seasons ago.

But my lover has returned.  And though many say our kind walk in darkness, God has revealed itself to me by this very act of faith.  For she is the light: the spark in her eyes more brilliant than a thousand suns, the warmth of her soul the very fire of a hearth, forever burning.

Yes, she has returned.  And I am home once more.

Yet, I linger at the threshold, paralyzed by the thought of her dissipating like smoke before my very eyes.  Could this much happiness be allowed for one such as myself?  Would Cupid’s arrow be tipped with sympathy for a creature’s plight, striking twice like lightning bearing down upon the selfsame tree?

Alas, caution, caution.  To be exercised constantly.

I remind myself, always, to stay the haste that would urge me to reveal all, as fantastical as the story may seem to a woman both worldly and hailing from a time that, I’ve learned, has very little tolerance for things incapable of being stripped away by science.

Thus, I must find contentment in observation, watching the slow procession of my bride as she fumbles among the great men I’ve gathered.  Waiting…hoping for the day that she’ll discover her place by the side of one who has loved her and only her since time immemorial.  For I would never force her hand.  If she is to love, it would be completely of her own accord.  

Such is my situation: to look but never to touch.  Never seeking to interfere.  It is torture of the most acute degree.

In a stark reminder that I, too, was once a man possessed of love and passion, jealousy and lust, I almost succumbed tonight.  Her soft moans had drawn me to her bedchamber, and when she failed to respond to my inquiries as to her well-being, I entered her room without express permission, fearing the worst.

And there…a sight to rival Venus’ birth upon foamy shores:

Tresses of silk fanned out upon down pillows as a thin sheen of sweat glistened on her brow, ma chérie had thrown off her bedcovers and continued to writhe under the influence of a dream.  Her lashes fluttered long like butterflies in flight, and I was captivated by the rapid rise and fall of her chest, the perfect flesh of supple breasts visible beneath the gauzy layers of her nightgown.

I pressed a hand to her forehead, relieved to find it cool to the touch and tried to keep from being distracted by her tongue as it slipped out to wet pink lips from corner to corner, as if fighting to quench some unfathomable thirst.  I wondered from which well of desire she had drawn in the hazy web of sleep to excite her so.

I wasn’t left ignorant for long, for it was then that she moaned my name, beckoning like the goddess of love herself and impossible to ignore as the sound stirred something deep in my enraptured heart and loins.  And just when I gathered every last shred of willpower to pull away, she grasped me by the wrist, fingers curling tight and with surprising strength.

Selfishly, I yielded.  Allowed her to draw me in any direction she saw fit until I was positioned over her sleeping form on all fours, like the basest of beasts.  I told myself that I did not wish to disturb her slumber, but the heart knows its own darkness.  For I was hopelessly drawn to the flush of her cheeks, the way her hands sought purchase in my hair — pushing my head lower and lower, allowing my gaze to take in every glorious inch of her body as it moved towards the heat between her legs.

She stopped then, spread herself even wider and lifted slightly off the bed as if seeking the warmth of my breath.  It blew shaky upon bare skin, for she had worn no undergarments.  Her heady scent wafted towards me, a bouquet delectable and sweet, as if deliberately fashioned to please my palate, and I smiled to remember the times I’d feast upon her until the candles burned low.

She glistened — rosy flesh trembling as her arousal beaded to drip from her entrance, leaving a salacious trail that ended in a growing spot of moisture on the bed beneath her.  She called for me again, the wanton whine of her voice mixed with a desperation I only knew too well, and it would’ve been so easy to take up her invitation with the tip of my tongue, lapping at the nectar offered up by her beautiful flower in bloom.

It would have been easy, yes.  But I am not one unaccustomed to hardship.

And so, with the greatest care not to rouse her, I extricated myself from her grasp, pulling the covers over her sleeping form once more.

On this night, I allowed myself this: the gentlest press of my lips to her forehead.  The slightest touch of my nose to the tip of hers.  Then I bade ma chérie “bonne nuit” as I closed the door behind me.

She will come to me once more, awake and willing.  And when she does...

…she will know my name.

(End of Entry)

Thank you so much for reading!  Check out more of my work here! 📓

[doing-all-write]

don’t be a baby pt. 3

Pairing: Billy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader discovers that Billy isn’t actually dead. Which changes everything. But also, nothing at all. 

Read part 1 HERE

Read part 2 HERE

Word Count: 7K

Warnings: SMUT (only 18+ interact PLZ), swearing, blood, explosions, fighting and some SOFT FEELINGS FOLKS OH BOY.

A/N: SURPRISE! Here’s part 3 of don’t be a baby! I hope you all love this ending, I’m so happy with how it ended so please enjoy! 

💖💖As always, likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! 💖💖

“You bastard.” 

The growl that came crawling out of her throat came from the basest, most animalistic part of her. Billy felt the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. 

"You fucking prick." Finally wrenching her hand from his, she reached up, ripping his hood off, fully bringing Billy’s feature into the light. 

Her jaw went slack, her complexion ghost white as Billy stood there. Knowing there was nothing he could say or do to make this situation better or less confusing. 

"You-you-no. No. This is impossible. There was a coffin. We had a funeral. Billy. I mourned you. I am still mourning you. What the fuck-"

"One found me on the ground after that last mission. He offered me this chance and-"

She hadn't even been aware she’d been moving away from him until her back hit the wall and her legs gave out completely.

Sliding to the floor, she pulled her knees into her chest, bringing her head down to take deep gulps of air as Billy stood over her Clenching and unclenching his hands, wanting nothing more than to wrap his arms around her but not knowing if that would make things better or worse, 

"I couldn't not take it love-(Y/N)" catching himself before he called her the old pet name, "It was the best option for me. I got a fresh start. I get to help people. It's steady work and I get to do what I love. Plus, you deserve someone better than me, it was only a matter of time before you realized it anyway..." His voice trailed off as she went stock still. 

~

Watching the monitors, the rest of the team jockeyed around One for position as he relayed what was being said in the room like a sports commentator, "Ooo, he just went for the 'you deserve better than me so I faked my own death' route! That one never works folks. Trust me, I've tried." Five rolled her eyes as Seven snickered. 

"DAMN!" Three exclaimed as the rest of the team broke out in screams as (Y/N) launched herself at Billy, fists flying and teeth bared. 

~

He didn't think she wanted him? He hadn't even asked her what she wanted, they had never even talked about it but only because his selfish ass had gone and written the ending of their story before it had even had a chance to start. The shock drained away, to be replaced by anger. It rose through her blood stream, lighting her body up, until it reached her eyes. She knew that the look in her eyes was feral, bordering on unhinged so it brought her some small joy to see his face blanche at the sight as her (Y/E/C) eyes met his blue ones.

"You no good, lying, piece of shit, COWARD." She had tried her best to keep her voice calm but the last word scraped past her vocal cords in a roar as she launched her body at him. 

The rational part of her brain knew she wasn’t thinking straight but the other part of her brain that had been wallowing in depression, hopelessness, anger and loss for 365 days was ready to fight. 

"You promised. You said you would come back to me and you didn't. But you've been alive this whole goddamn time and now you're in front of me telling me that you didn't think I would want you? And instead of talking to me, you pretend to kill yourself?" Each word was punctuated by a well placed kick, punch or slap on Billy's person. 

“I thought ghosting was bad but this takes it to a whole new LEVEL.” she shrieked as she aimed a left hook to Billy’s kidney. 

Those boxing lessons paid off, she briefly thought to herself. 

There was a part of Billy that had prepared himself for this kind of reaction. He wasn’t even trying to defend himself from her. He knew this was the least he deserved and honestly, he was glad she was even touching him at all. 

Continuing her onslaught on Billy, she hoped she left bruises. A physical representation of the bruising he had caused on her heart over the past year. Growling, she kept up a running commentary of what exactly Billy was since he had left her behind. 

Billy kept his eyes trained forward, as her fists kept up a steady rhythm on his body. Shoulders straight, hands loose at his sides, waiting for some kind of sign that she was slowing down. He risked a glance down and saw her cheeks glistening with tears.

His heart broke into a million pieces. He felt his throat tighten as the tears that he had tried to hold back, welled up in his own eyes. 

She knew distantly that the wetness she felt wasn't sweat. She just prayed that Billy didn't notice them. She didn't want him to think she was weak. As that thought crossed her brain, she realized her punches were getting softer and softer. The rapid pattern she had been striking Billy with had slowed considerably. 

"You son of a bitch. You promised." The last word came out in a ragged wisp as she felt the adrenaline leave her body and despondency begin to take its place. 

"Don't you love me?" Billy's arms reached for her instinctually at those four words. Pulling her frame into his broad chest, he felt her crumble against him as her sobs echoed throughout the room. 

"Shh, love, I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I know, rest now. I'm so sorry, my love." He whispered, letting his head drop down so his lips grazed her ear as he repeated his apology over and over again. She felt herself getting irritated with her own body when it gave an impulsive shudder at the nearness of him. 

Distantly, she realized that the months of chasing the spark she had with Billy with other men had been pointless. There was no way to recreate it because Billy was the spark. There was no way to recreate what they had because there was no one else like Billy and she didn’t want anyone but Billy.

Feeling the cold concrete of the ground seeping through her leggings, she registered that she must have sunk to the ground as Billy kept his arms around her, both of them huddled on the floor as she sobbed and half heartedly struck Billy’s chest with a weak fist, whispering a few choice phrases such as "fuck you" or "bastard". 

The last thing she remembered was Billy whispering the words ``I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again as he rocked her back and forth as she felt herself drift into unconsciousness.  

~~~

It was the first sleep she'd had where she didn't dream. 

Eyelids fluttering open, she blinked the drowsiness away, forgetting about where she was and why she was on a cot with the desert sun piercing through the linen curtains over the window next to her.

Then it all came slamming back to her with such force that it pulled the air from her lungs. Crushing her knees into her chest she rolled into a ball, breathing into the cave she’d created for herself. Listening to her breath cycle through her body helped to ground her into the fucked up reality she’d woken up in. 

After a few minutes, she lifted her head and took a deep breath in. Exhaling, she swung her legs over the edge of the cot and walked toward a door that she assumed was a bathroom. 

Seeing that the door had been cracked open she hesitated, not wanting to barge in if someone was already in there. Leaning forward she tried to see who it was. 

Her breath was ripped from her lungs for a second time as her eyes were met with the broad expanse of Billy's back. He was twisting in the mirror, trying to rub gel onto the bruise that was blooming on his side from her fists. 

Guilt blossomed in her gut as she thought about how she had hurt him, then figured it was the least she could do to him considering he had caused her more pain and suffering than any one person should feel in their lifetime. 

A whine interrupted her thought process as Billy pressed too hard on the bruise that had flowered by his rib cage. The guilt came crawling back and she gently knocked on the door, pushing it open. 

"Do, uh, do you need help?" Feeling shy suddenly, she trained her eyes on Billy's feet which shuffled back and forth, as if trying to decide if he wanted to be closer to her or afraid she would hit him again.

“Yeah-yes. I need your help.” He cleared his throat, “I need you.” 

Studiously avoiding eye contact, she reached for the gel he had been trying to apply. She took it from his hands and rubbed some onto her palms. Feeling his gaze burning into her, she forced herself to focus on the task at hand. 

The scent of eucalyptus filled the air as she pressed her palms onto his skin. He couldn't fight the hiss that leaked out from between his teeth. 

Her lips quirked up as she whispered, "Don't be a baby." 

Their eyes met and he couldn't help what happened next, he kissed her. 

Rising up to meet the harsh push of Billy's lips against her, lust roared to life in the pit of her stomach. Grasping Billy's biceps she leaped into the air, wrapping her legs around his waist. Billy's arms flew up to wrap around her as they both pressed their lips into each other, moaning as she clawed at his back. He deposited her on the sink counter as he reached a leg out to kick the bathroom door shut, praying that no one tried to open the door because fuck. He wasn't going to stop kissing her just to lock a damn door. 

She pulled back, ripping a wimper from Billy. Smirking, she nipped at his bottom lip, then ran her tongue delicately over the red spot that was blooming there. Moaning, he thrusted his hips forward, trying to find something to help relieve the pressure building in his cock. Her moans mixed with his as she pressed her own hips forward.  

Billy's hands gripped her waist as he stepped in between her legs, pumping his hips forward, meeting her needy thrusts with his own. Gasping at the feeling of Billy's length rubbing against her, Billy let out a groan as he wound a hand into her hair, pulling it to expose the line of her throat as he nipped down it, humming with each whine she let out. 

Running her hands down his arms, she moved his hands to grasp at her tits, pushing them into his hands to drive home where she wanted him to touch her most. Chuckling, he ran his thumbs over her breasts, brushing the pad of his thumb over the peak her nipples made through her tank top. 

Keening she reached forward, grasping the edge of his joggers, pulling him forward as she nudged them down, grasping his cock at the base, stroking it. 

Billy growled at the action, grasping the waistband of her leggings, he wiggled them down her thighs till they pooled around her ankles. Kissing her deeply, he brushed the head of his cock against her folds, moaning when he felt the wetness gathering on the head. 

Reaching down, he grasped her thighs, pulling them apart so he could finally, finally, dip his cock into the folds of her cunt. Throwing her head back she let out a stream of curses, Billy biting his lip as he rolled his hips forward, both of them falling into a familiar rhythm as she dug her nails into Billy's shoulders. 

Fingertips sinking into the flesh around her hips, Billy growled into her mouth, causing her to clench the walls of her cunt around his cock. Whimpering, she moved her hand down to rub at her clit. Billy batted her hand out of the way, “Let me.” he whispered before pressing his mouth more desperately against hers, as he began drawing circles over the sensitive nub. 

Moaning into his mouth, she felt her walls clenching even tighter as she rocked her hips sloppily against his own, knowing she was close. 

Feeling her grip around his cock, Billy knew she was close and he thanked the gods she was because he was positive he wouldn’t have lasted much longer. Pumping faster, he dug his hands so hard into her hips she knew there would be bruises there. 

Not that she minded. 

Feeling the fire gnawing its way through her, she clung to Billy desperately as he gave a few last rocks, pressing against her clit in the most delicious way, she gave into the pleasure sweeping over her. 

Her walls clamped around him, giving him the final nudge he needed to spill into her. Both of them groaned as the last few waves of pleasure swept over them. Her head came down to rest on Billy's shoulder. His hands still clamped on her hips, both of them breathing each other's scents as their fury wound down. 

The silence was interrupted by the crackle of the intercom, 

"Kinda pissed I wasn't the first one to get into those Nike leggings." 

"Fuck off." came their simultaneous response. Locking eyes, they both broke into smiles as Billy gingerly pulled himself from her. Helping her down from the counter, he cleaned them both up, helping her step out of her leggings but leaving her underwear on. As he pulled his own joggers up, he gently pushed her into the room she had just left. Stumbling back into the room, she felt exhaustion wash over her again. 

Collapsing once more into the bed, the last thing she remembered before dropping back into sleep was Billy padding into the room and her hand reaching out for him. Grasping for it so she could be sure he wouldn’t leave before she woke up.

~~~

Billy became suddenly aware there was a weight on his chest.

Stirring, he felt the mass curl into him further. Sniffing, he caught a whiff of the shampoo (Y/N) always used and knowing it was her curled into him was almost enough to have him break down into sobs. 

Bringing a hesitant hand to her waves, he gently stroked them as her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm. 

Aware of the hand stroking her hair, she did her best to keep still so he wouldn't stop. She knew that when she woke they would need to have a serious conversation about...all of it. About Billy being alive. Them being on the same team. Would she be able to trust him again? There was a lot to discuss but right now she wanted to lay on his chest and pretend that it was the day after their first day together, the future ahead of them bright and unencumbered. 

Feeling her arm start to fall asleep, she figured it was time to wake up and face Billy. 

Feeling her stir, Billy's hand stilled on her waves, moving down to land on her hip as she shifted so she could shoot a sleepy smile up at him, "Morning" she croaked out and Billy thought he had never seen something so adorable in his entire life. 

Smiling, he replied, "Morning," then frowned, "or afternoon. I have no bloody idea what time or day it is to be quite honest with you." 

Letting out a wheezy laugh she brought her head back down to his chest as he wrapped an arm around her, bringing her closer to him, feeling more grounded already with her next to him. 

He knew they should talk about what his being alive meant for them and for the future, but he wanted to be selfish and hold onto these few peaceful moments. He’d realized how greedy he was when it came to spending time with (Y/N) but he couldn't help it. Every second, every minute, he wasn't next to her felt like a moment wasted. 

Sighing, she turned her face up to him, "I guess we should talk about...well...the fact that you're not dead." Bringing his other hand up to rub down his face, Billy let out a sigh, "Yeah, I s'pose we should." 

"Don't sound too excited." 

"You gonna hit me again?"

"You going to keep having that tone with me?"

Cowing immediately Billy ran his hand over her back, "No, 'course not (Y/N). Sorry."

Sniffing she nodded to show she'd acknowledged his apology. Her next question came out on a sigh, "Why, Billy?"

"Why what?"

"Why would you do this?"

It was Billy's turn to heave a sigh as he chose his next words with care. He wanted, needed, her to understand why he did what he did. He needed her to understand it wasn’t because he didn’t love, it was because he loved her too much. 

"Because...well...One's offer was too good to pass up. Truly. I could do all my Sky Walker stuff but also be able to help people. It was my chance to make a difference in the world, to do some massive good on a global scale." 

Sniffing back tears, she nodded mutely as she absentmindedly drew circles over his torso. "I understand that Billy, but...why did you have to break your promise?"

The sharp intake of breath from Billy caused her to raise her head, shock flooding her veins as she saw tears start to leak out of the corner of his eyes. Raising her thumb up, she swiped them away. 

"I didn't want to, (Y/N). But...I had to. One explained to me how dangerous this job was, is, and how people will do awful things to anyone connected to you. I...I couldn't bear the thought of you being caught in the crosshairs or having something happen to you because of me." 

"Okay but, why didn't you talk to me about it? You just assumed I would be okay with it? That I would tell you One was right? That I wouldn't fight for you? For us? C'mon Billy. Give me a little credit."

"Yeah, because you took so well to my original job." 

Her body stilled as she realized he was right. Not that she was happy about it. Sighing she tilted her head up to look into his eyes, "You're right. But that was before. This is...now. I'm different. I've changed." 

Billy's eyes roamed over her face, memorizing every detail of it. He took stock of her eyes, how the light was boarded up tight, like they were the first few times he’d talked to her. When she smiled or laughed, he saw a flash of it peek through only for her to quickly shove it back down.  

As she studied his own face, she desperately wanted to let her guard down. It would be so easy to slip into how it should have been but there was something that was holding her back. She couldn’t figure out what it was until it hit her like a freight train.

What if Billy really died? 

Now that she knew his death had been a ruse and he was still alive, this time, if he did die in this life...there really was no coming back from that. Her heart tore in half at the thought. 

"Love..." he hesitated to see how she would react to the pet name. When she didn't hit him or tell him not to use it, he continued, "Love, listen. This is totally your choice. If you think we can do this, then, I'm all in. This will be our new life together. But if there's even a shred of an issue, then you get to walk out that door. And you'll never hear from me again." His heart leaped when she wrapped her arm around his chest more securely at that admission.

"I don't want that. But...Billy...what happens...if...if...you die. Again. For real." Her voice was shaky as she nestled her face into Billy's side, squeezing her eyes shut against the tears threatening to overwhelm her. 

Billy's breath left his lungs in a harsh whoosh as the full impact of that idea made his heart skip a beat. He hadn't even considered the possibility. Mainly because if he did, he would never do half the shit he did. 

"I wish I had a good answer love but, I don't." Hearing her sniffle he turned on his side, cupping her chin in his hand as he tilted her face up so she would look at him and know how desperately he meant the next few words, 

"I just, I have a feeling in my gut that I won't die though. The only reason I made it through half of these missions is because of the people around me and...you." Her eyes widened at this admission, 

"Yes, love. You. The very idea of you when I was off doing things that James Bond could only dream of," she snorted as Billy grasped one of her hands in his own, "is what made me more convinced than ever that I needed to get back to you in one piece. And if you join the team? Love, you will be the only thing that's going through my head when we're on a job together. The promise of being able to come home to you at the end of the day, to have you patch me up, to give me endless shit. I wouldn't want to miss any more of it than I already have. So please, believe me when I tell you, if you join this team? I will never, ever leave you again. I promise, (Y/N)." 

Raising her eyes to meet his blue ones, she felt her heart squeeze when she saw the tears streaming freely down his face. He had laid his heart bare for her and the love she felt for him in that moment made her glow with a warmth she hadn’t felt, well, since the last time they had been in a bed together. But part of her was still hesitant. She wanted to believe him but she couldn’t go through what she had already been through again. 

Billy knew that she was doing her best to figure out if he truly meant it. Sensing her hesitation, he placed the hand he had been gripping over his heart, "Do you feel that?” She nodded, feeling grounded as his heart beat beneath her palm, “Every beat is for you. For you and you alone, love. You bring me into the light and make me feel as if I deserve to be there. Please, (Y/N), do what you think is right but just know, that I want you, and only you, for the rest of my life." 

Crying freely, she nodded frantically as she curled herself into Billy's chest. Stroking her back, he let her cry as much as she needed to.  After a while, she pulled back, mumbling an apology for getting snot on his shirt as he laughed. Lifting her head up she realized she was right in line with Billy's lips. They were so perfect, reaching a hesitant finger out, she traced them. Feeling her heart beat harder when Billy’s breath hitched at the movement. 

Lowering her finger, she snuggled closer to Billy as she reached her lips up to press them against his own softly, tentatively, like she was asking a question more than providing an answer. 

Billy sighed as he brought a hand up to cup her face. Stroking the planes, he made sure to remember exactly how her lips felt as he wiped the last of her tears from her face. 

Deepening the kiss, she moaned softly into his mouth as he traced a line from her cheek, down her neck, down her side until his hand landed on her hip. Giving her a gentle nudge, she swung her leg over and straddled Billy as he adjusted himself underneath her. He looked up at her and was sure he had never seen a more beautiful sight. Clad in her black tank top and panties, no makeup, hair falling in her face, Billy's heart ached at the notion of being able to wake up to this sight every day of his life. 

Resting her hands gently on the broad expanse of his chest, she gave a small thrust forward, testing to see how hard he was. Gasping when she felt his full length twitch, he cocked an eyebrow at her, "You okay there, love?"

"Shut it." She mumbled as she leaned down to capture his lips with hers. 

"Make me" was his response as he kissed her back tenderly. Their movements were languid, the passion and tension that had gripped them last night burnt away only to leave the love, adoration and relief they both felt to be reunited with each other. Gently rubbing herself over his cock, he reached a hand down to nudge his pants out of the way. 

When his cock sprang free, she reached a hand down into her panties, running two fingers over her own slick, lifting her hand up to lick the juices off her fingers as Billy stared at her, slack-jawed.

Giggling, she moved her underwear to the side as she shifted her hips, positioning herself over his length then slowly lowering herself until he was fully sheathed inside of her. 

She gasped as his hands came up to caress the bruises he had left on her hips. His touches were feather light as she let herself adjust to the girth of Billy's cock. Both of them were making a conscious effort to not rush this time. They wanted to relish the feel of each others bodies. 

They both treated their bodies as dispensable when they were on a job, but with each other they gave into the feeling of being admired, of being adored, of being touched delicately and being delicate in return. 

As (Y/N) let herself enjoy how full she felt with Billy inside of her, Billy rubbed his thumbs over her hips, urging his own hips to stay still. He didn't want to rush this. He didn't want to rush her. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to make sure that she felt comfortable, that she could feel how much he loved and cared about her through his actions. 

In the same vein, (Y/N) wanted to treat Billy with softness. To show that she trusted him, that she wanted to be with him always and would trust him with her life. That he deserved to be cherished. Slowly, she started rocking her hips back and forth, finding a soothing rhythm as her fingers fluttered down to rest on Billy's stomach. 

Billy's hands caressed her thighs, brushing slow patterns, the roughness of his palms on her skin causing goosebumps to rise up as she started pumping her hips a little faster. Below her, Billy was making the most obscene noises she'd ever heard. Moans, whines and gasps, the whole time desperately searching for eye contact so he could watch her reaction to every movement of his body underneath hers. 

Leaning down to kiss him, he grasped her shoulders and flipped them so he was on top of her, using his forearms to prop himself up, staring down at her, he smiled, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world." Blushing furiously, she rolled her eyes so she wouldn't have to make eye contact knowing that if she did, her heart would explode with how much love she had for him. 

Leaning his head down, he nuzzled into the crook of her neck, inhaling the smell of her skin, the sweetness of her perfume, the slight tang of salt and something that was so unmistakably (Y/N). Pressing his lips into the curve where her neck sloped down to meet her shoulder, he heard her sigh and continued to nudge his hips forward. 

When her moans grew louder, he let out a small growl that made her clench around his length. Thrusting her hips up, she whined needily in the back of her throat. Smirking, Billy started pumping his hips faster into her. Feeling the pit in her stomach grow hotter, she ran her fingers over his head, feeling the pricks of his stubble rub against her palms. As he pulled back to stare into her eyes, she brushed the errant strands that had fallen in front of his eyes. She wanted to drown in their blueness. 

Continuing to thrust into her, Billy felt his orgasm building as he kept eye contact with her. Everything was quiet except for their breath. The sighs, the hitches, all of it was much hotter to Billy than any dirty talk could be. 

Feeling her heart beat start to speed up, she knew she was getting close. Biting her lip, she peered at Billy through her eyelashes, "Billy...I'm going to cum." 

Leaning down, she could feel the smile that was playing on his lips as he whispered in her ear, "Then cum for me, my love." With those words, the pit in her stomach expanded and swallowed her whole. Squeezing her eyes shut, she came with a sharp inhale and slow exhale as her hips rose up to meet Billy's as he pumped into her through her orgasm. Feeling her walls clench around him, watching her come undone below him, pushed him right over the edge. As the last vestiges of her orgasm left her, she felt Billy's hips pumping against her sloppily until with a final grunt, she felt him fill her up with his cum. 

Panting, they looked into each others eyes and she giggled as he smiled at her, looking a little dazed. Carefully pulling out of her, he cleaned them up. After pulling his sweatpants back up, he laid down on the bed, pulling her to his chest. 

Nuzzling her face into Billy she sighed. Feeling her body loosen and relax, Billy started to plant kisses all over the top of her head, moving down to pepper her cheeks with kisses, she giggled and squirmed away from him. Chuckling, he placed one last kiss to the tip of her nose, “C’mere love. We’ve been apart too long to have you so far away from me.” 

“Billy, I’m like an inch away from you.” 

“And that’s still too far.” he whined as he pulled her flush against him. Giggling, she flung her arm and leg over Billy’s form, attaching herself even closer to him, “Is this close enough?” 

“Not really but, it’ll have to do.” he mumbled as his arms wound around her, hugging her tightly into him. 

As they laid there, their breath evened out to match each other. And several hours later, when One was checking the surveillance cameras, that was how he found them. Entwined in each other, breathing in and out in synch, looking for all the world like pieces of a puzzle that had finally come together to create a whole picture. 

~One Month Later~

"Are you fucking kidding me?" 

"No, of course I'm not. You gotta get out of here and this is the best way to do it. C'mon." 

"Eight-" hearing her code name come out of Billy's mouth always made a shiver run down her spine. One time, he had growled it when they were having sex and the orgasm that’d ripped through her when it happened caused her to see God.

She had been lovely. 

"Four. I believe in you." Billy pulled up short as he heard those four words crackle through his earpiece. Then, 

"You two need to cut the foreplay and figure out a legitimate way of getting the fuck out of this building before it blows." 

"Hey, One? Why do you need to cockblock us at every opportunity?" (Y/N) laughed.

"Shut it Eight or I'm going to let you explode in this building." 

"You would miss my witty banter though. No one else can keep up with you like I can."

"Correction, no one wants to keep up with him like you do." Was Five's dry reply as she prepped the medical gear sitting in the getaway car. Shrugging, (Y/N) couldn't find fault with that statement. With a final ding, the files finished uploaded to the flash drive. Pulling it out, she gingerly stepped over the four guards that had rushed to greet her. 

Slipping into the hallway and gently closing the door behind her, she rushed down the hallway, looking first right, then left to see if Billy was there. She heard a thud to her right and drew her gun as she turned to aim it at whoever was trying to sneak up on her. 

"Gotta say, I'm afraid but also a little turned on." 

It was Billy at the end of her barrel, holding his arms high. 

Holstering her gun she rolled her eyes, "When aren't you feeling like that?" 

"Good point, it's been my constant state since you joined the team."

Laughing, she grabbed his hand and started running down the hall of the home of the mobster they’d been infiltrating. He’d been a kingpin in one of the biggest sex trafficking rings in the world. But they had busted him, and it, wide open. (Y/N) had just leaked all of his documents to the FBI and to all major news sites, while downloading a copy for herself. The rest of the team had been making sure she had clear access to the computer and had been extracted awhile ago, it was just her and Billy left.  

As they raced down the hallway, they felt a rumble, then, 

BOOM. 

An explosion rocked the building, bringing them up short, as they looked at where the staircase used to be. 

"Well, fuck." 

Feeling something tugging her arm, (Y/N) looked away from the inferno to Billy tugging her towards the window, "Trust me?" 

"Always." 

Smiling back at her, he gripped her hand tighter as they both took off for the window. As a second explosion racked the building, the glass erupted as they launched themselves through the window, body's rolled tight as they aimed for the bunting on the building across from them. 

~~~

"FUCK does that hurt. Jesus Christ." 

"You do this every time I have to patch you up. Why aren't you used to this? Better question, why do I still patch you up?"

"Because it's how we fell in love in the first place and you love taking care of me."

"Shut up" was her mumbled reply. Billy smiled smugly as he snuggled deeper into the chair he was seated in.

After they had landed on the bunting, rolling and thumping onto the street, they’d pushed themselves up and leaped into the getaway car as Two peeled out and away from the smoking wreckage. 

They hadn't even noticed the scraps and cuts they’d acquired until the adrenaline had flowed out of their system and Five was yelling at them, telling them what fools they were and how dumb could they be. 

Laughing, Billy drank in (Y/N)'s bright eyes, her mouth stretched into a smile as she hurled insults back at One and flirted shamelessly with Seven. He had slipped a hand onto her thigh with the first wink she’d aimed at Seven. Ignoring the weight of his hand on her thigh, she continued their banter. With every remark, wink or playful nudge, he moved his hand up her thigh until finally, 

"Your hand is basically on her pussy can you two please get a room." Three groaned. 

Two smacked him as (Y/N) blushed furiously, batting Billy's hand off her leg as Billy laughed, flicking his tongue over his lips. 

Getting back to HQ, they tumbled out of the van. Voices overlapping and mixing with each other as they stumbled back to safety, everyone ready for a well deserved rest. (Y/N) was listening to Five explain the latest state of the art medical equipment they’d gotten when she felt the roughness of Billy's palm engulf her hand. Smiling, she squeezed his hand, feeling his palm press harder into her own and giving her butterflies all over again. 

"That's even grosser than earlier." Seven snorted at One's comment but felt a tug in his heart at how easily they had slotted themselves back together. 

~

They had emerged from the room they’d been in a few hours later, only to be met by whooping, pats on the back, congratulations being passed around and One loudly declaring how impressed he was with how they "banged it out." 

Rolling her eyes she’d put her hands up, "Listen. Before this goes any further I just want to let you guys know what my decision is."

Billy's head had snapped up at that comment. Eyes widening he felt his stomach drop, she’d never specifically said what she had decided on. Feeling unsteady, he braced his hands on the back of a chair, sure he was going to snap it with his grip. 

The air in the room became thick with anticipation. Everyone stilled to hear what her final verdict would be. 

"I'm in. All in."

Her words were meant for everyone but her gaze stayed glued on Billy. The smile that broke across his face was enough to make her smile as his lips connected to hers, the rest of the room breaking into cheers and whoops and then disgusted groans as Billy deepened the kiss. 

~

Since then, she had fit into the dynamic of the team like she’d always been a part of it. This had been their first official mission with her on board and they were all pleased with how it went. One even offered her a compliment on her competency during the debriefing. 

(Alright, so it was a backhanded compliment but that was as good as it was going to get with One.) 

Now, she and Billy were back at their shared airplane husk at HQ. Billy's favorite part of their place was the cross-stitch she had done that said "Husk Sweet Husk" with an airplane underneath. It warmed his heart every time he saw it. 

Billy was in a chair as (Y/N) sat next to him on the same stool she had perched on the first time he arrived at her apartment. Five had taken care of the larger cuts but she still liked to patch him up whenever she could. It made her feel closer to him and it allowed them to come down from missions together. 

"Would you stop squirming? I swear, you're worse than a toddler."

"I'm just trying to keep your skills sharp, love."

"You're about to meet the sharp end of my knife if you don't stop fucking moving."

"And there's that sharp tongue I fell in love with."

"Oh shut up." She smirked as a blush climbed up her cheeks, causing Billy to lean forward and pepper them with kisses as she threw cotton balls at him.

"I give up! You're impossible and on your own to patch yourself up."

"C'mon love, don't be a baby." He snickered as he grabbed her hand to pull her into his lap.

Tucking her head under his chin she pouted, "You know that always works on me, that's not fair."

"Who ever said anything in this relationship is fair?" He tickled her sides lightly until he heard a giggle leave her mouth. Smiling he pressed a kiss to her head as she snuggled deeper into his chest. Winding his arms around her, he squeezed her close. Their breaths synching up as they watched the last of the sun dip below the horizon. 

Five minutes or an hour later, she wasn’t sure, she finally shifted with the intention of getting up when she heard Billy hiss. 

Looking up at him with confusion, she furrowed her brows, "What?"

"You can't do that, love"

"Why not?" Shifting again she felt something poke her and let out a gasp, "Is that-?"

"It's definitely not my gun so yes. I am very happy to see you." 

Laughing she unfolded herself from his arms, "Okay, sorry. I won't do that unless we're spooning and then I'll just 'accidentally' wriggle my butt around until you get hard again."

"It won't take long." The husky quality of Billy's voice caused her head to snap up. His eyes were hooded, boring into her own. The air between them thick with lust.

It had been like this ever since they’d been back together. Everything was a sexual innuendo or an excuse to touch each other. Seven thought it was because of how sexually frustrated Billy was after not getting laid for so long but they both knew it was because they needed the reminder. 

Every caress, touch, kiss and sigh against each other's skin was a reminder that this was real, they were with each other. Every time Billy would grab her hand under the table during a meeting a jolt of electricity shot through her. 

And every time (Y/N) brushed up against Billy or laid a hand on his back to move past him, his cheeks would flush, remembering that she was close enough to touch and he could touch her any time he wanted. 

Neither of them took for granted the simplest things anymore. Passing touches, kisses on the cheek, hugging, holding hands, it all signified something bigger for them. That they could reach out and touch each other whenever they could. Every morning that they woke up, entwined in each others arms was another day that was going to be good, because they had woken up where they belonged. 

(Y/N) broke their gaze first, cheeks burning as she shuffled back and forth, "Umm, Mark texted me by the way. He, Mary and Jean are going to FaceTime with us later so we better not get too heated." 

"Why does your brother cockblock me at every possible time?" 

"Because I'm his sister, it's practically his job."

It’d been tricky to navigate the after-math of the discovery of Billy's demise. She knew that no one knew if she was dead or alive but after negotiating with One, she talked him into taking Mark and Jean onto the team. Which hit another snag when they found out that Mark and Mary had started dating. 

One had thrown his hands up when this knowledge came to his attention and cursed the day he brought this, "cluster fuck of a circus" into his group. Begrudgingly he had allowed Billy's mom, sister, Mark and Jean to come to HQ. As soon as they stepped foot in the plane, he had put the fear of God into them about this job, the dangers and how it was of mortal importance they keep their "fucking mouths shut." At which point, he had gone to the door, flung it open and walked out, "Oh and by the way, here's the problem that started this whole mess." he called over his shoulder as Billy walked into the room, sheepishly holding his hand up in a meek wave. 

(Y/N) had let him have that moment alone. She figured that would muddy the waters and besides, everyone in there already knew she was alive and okay. They deserved to have time with just Billy. To process, to understand. It had killed her to wait for them to emerge from the room but it had been worth it when she saw Billy and his mother emerge from the room, their eyes red rimmed from crying, arms around each other. 

Mark and Jean worked remotely most of the time. One would call them in for missions occasionally but they stuck to ground work and passed information off to One when need be. 

Mary and Billy's mom kept quiet, still letting everyone believe that Billy was dead but buoyed by the fact that they could FaceTime him whenever they wanted. (Y/N) also knew that One sent updates to Billy's mom whenever he could and paid for her to come out to visit Billy at HQ when they were between missions. It warmed her heart and made his snarky comments easier to put up with. 

Sighing, Billy hauled himself out of the chair, ambling towards the bathroom, "Well, come on then, better make the shower sex quick." He clamped his hands down around her waist as he nudged them towards the bathroom as her laugh rang out, bouncing over the sand dunes. 

~~~

"FUCK. BILLY!" 

With a final moan, Billy came inside (Y/N), both of them breathing heavily as they came down from their highs. After cleaning up, Billy collapsed into the bed, unfortunately landing right on top of her.

"OOF. Billy, c'mon." Shoving weakly at his form she knew it was a lost cause as he nuzzled his face into the crook of her neck.

"S'comfortable. You should just try to be less comfortable to lay on top of." 

"How would that even work?" 

"Get rid of your boobs."

Gasping, her hands flew up to her chest, "You know these are the money makers!"

"Of course I know that, love. Seven and Three know it as well."

Smacking his shoulder they both chuckled. As their breathing steadied, Billy rolled off her, bringing her into his chest where they snuggled deeper into the blanket they shared. Just as their eyes were closing,

BANG BANG BANG

"C'mon you two. Quit fucking for two seconds, One has a new mission for us."

Groaning, she buried her face into Billy's chest, "Tell One he can go fuck himself."

"You can yourself, darling. In about two seconds."

Dragging her body from the warm nest they had made, she stepped into the first pair of sweatpants she found on the ground, "Remind me again why I agreed to do this stupid job?"

Feeling Billy's hands on her shoulders, she twisted around only to be met with a deep lingering kiss from him, "Because I love you. And I can't do this life, or any life, without you being right next to me."

Pressing her forehead against his she smiled, inhaling deeply, "I love you."

"I love you, too. Also I'm so going to beat you to the control room."

Wha-?" her sentence was cut off as Billy raced from their husk, sprinting across the sand as best he could. An indignant snort left her as she took off after him, their laughter bouncing over the sand. Billy glanced back at her and didn’t know which was brighter, the full moon hanging above them or the warmth that radiated from (Y/N)’s laughing eyes as she raced to follow him to the ends of the world. Reaching a hand out, she grabbed his own as he tugged her forward into their next adventure. 

~~~

Tag List: @itsabenthing @vroboat @mrhoemazzello @gwendolyns-stacy @alliwantfromyouistomakelovetome @desperatelytryingtosavemyself​ @jonesyaddiction​ @xtrashmammalstefx​ @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @fairestkillerqueenofall @acciodallas​ @peter-sue-the-management​

[libidomechanica]

Untitled Composition # 5131

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[neen-writes]

Silver for Monsters -- Ch. 5

Series: Witcher/Fairy Tail

Pairing: Gajevy

Summary: In a world ravaged by monsters where magic is becoming outlawed and nonhumans are hunted, the Witcher known as Black Steel Gajeel takes up a contract. He expects to find a simple old herbalist, terrorized by a beast in the woods. But in his many years he has learned to never trust what he expects.

Note: Ugh here it is.  It’s a filler/fanservice chapter born of jokes on stream, but I’m just trying to get the momentum moving again on this story so, I hope that you guys at least find it entertaining!!

If you like what you see, consider buying me a ko-fi. :]

Ch. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4

“By the way,” the rose-haired man drawled into his pint, slapping another card onto the table, “what the everloving hell are you wearing?  That is not the armor I made for you.”  He gulped down the rest of his beer, looking Gajeel over with nothing short of disdain.

The Witcher scowled at the card the man had laid down and eased back in his chair.  He was at least six pints in, Natsu somehow ahead of him, and he couldn’t tell how long he had been here drinking.  Only that the streets outside were orange with the sunset.  Gajeel played his own card, and then looked back up to Natsu, who was waving over at Cana for a refill.  “Ran into an endrega nest, fucked up the polish.  Had to lift a new one,” he replied with a small shrug, slurring his words only slightly.  The prickle rippling through the blacksmith was just as satisfying as he’d expected.  “Ya wanna give me a new set, then be my guest.”

Natsu snorted, eagerly reaching for the new pint provided to him by the now very busy barmaid. There was a loaded pause, one that was not lost on the Witcher. “If you got the coin, you know how this works,” he said, arranging his lines of cards but looking not the slightest bit pleased with the spread.  He looked back and forth from Gajeel’s side to his own, then eased back a bit.  “Fucker,” he hissed.

Gajeel chuckled, leveling a satisfied stare at his rival.  “I could either clear out yer pockets for that, or ya could show me whatever it is that you’re avoiding mentionin’ from the shop,” a wry smirk, and the glare from his companion confirmed that there was definitely something worthwhile.  

The blacksmith grumbled into his beer as he took another swig.  His disgruntled attitude melted away quickly and pride flickered in his eyes.  Quickly, a toothy grin spread on his face.  “Got somethin’ that might suit you, finished it months back and ain’t had a single person who can afford it or was even worth selling it to.  Come by in the morning and I’ll show you; that is if I don’t roast you before the night’s up.”

The Witcher chuckled into his drink.  “Why don’t ya try.”

“OI!” Cana’s immediate shout across the tavern had both of their hands up in appeasement, muttering unheard apologies, while keeping their gazes on each other.  The challenge still very much hung between them, but they dropped it for now.  They could have at it with each other another time.

“Me kickin’ your ass aside,” a mocking grunt answered him, “There any runnin’ specials on that armor?”

“Aside from what I’m already givin’ you for winning?  God damn Gajeel, Witchin’s made you greedy,” Natsu replied.  Gajeel merely shrugged, but remained quiet, waiting for an answer.  He eventually sighed in defeat, looking upwards. “Nothing special.  The drowners are acting up where my material supplier usually docks, I figure the residents have started dumping dead livestock there and it’s making it harder for him to make my deliveries.  Clear it out, and make sure it stays cleared, and I’ll knock off another hundred crowns.”  He didn’t need to tell Gajeel that his particular supplier couldn’t possibly dock in Novigrad’s port.  Either because whomever this supplier was, they were nonhuman, or because what he delivered was just too risky to be caught with.

Gajeel fought off the urge to bark back two hundred, reeling himself back in seeing as he already thrashed the blacksmith in gwent.  “Where’s his spot?” he asked simply.

After a brief moment, Natsu grinned devilishly, “There’s a small dock, on the northeast point of Farcorners.”

Gajeel stared at him quietly for several seconds to see if the man was kidding, but he was only met with an expectant, amused, and unbothered smile.  He didn’t know how Natsu got the idea that Gajeel would be tempted to get back to the see the sorceress, maybe because somehow the blacksmith has a connection with his own and understood the intrigue.  Gajeel wanted badly to ask more about his own connection, but that would open the door for Natsu to ask him about Levy, and that was a topic he was trying like hell to keep from landing back up on.  After a few more beats of silence, “Done,” he answered, knocking back the rest of his drink.

“Not now, I hope.  Be a waste of a good armor if you go and get yourself killed for trying to fight drunk.”

“Wouldn’t ya love that, Salamander,” he retorted.  Gajeel bore his teeth slightly, wanting so badly to hit him square in the chest with an Aard, but he restrained himself.  He couldn’t afford to piss off Cana again and owe her for a hole in the wall… again.  But there was always such a thrill in going against the blacksmith and the alcohol never helped.  They’d known each other for decades, and drank and fought for each one of them.  Friends, rivals, he’d never been able to pin one of them but he knew that he got endless amusement from riling up and antagonizing him.  Only because of what he knew crawled beneath that deceptively human skin and that he couldn’t actually unleash it to annihilate him.  But tonight he knew better, and he needed a place to sleep by the grace of the tavern’s owner.

That, there-not-there smoke wisped form the corner of Natsu’s mouth at the name, but he let it go, changing the subject.  The previous competitive aggression flickered off his face in a heartbeat and instead he looked at Gajeel like he was actually a friend.  “So, you gonna tell me what you’ve been up to aside from romancing the Lodge?” he asked with a toothy grin, and though Gajeel rolled his eyes, he happily transitioned into stories about recent contracts, rare beasts he’d encountered, and pointedly avoided any mention of the blue-haired sorceress.  They spoke late into the night before both finally called it and hobbled off, drunkenly, to their respective places to sleep.

For being on his best behavior, Cana had agreed to let him rent out one of the rooms for the night; and one of the best ones at that.  The Rosemary’s rooms were modest compared to many others, but to him he may as well have been in a manor compared to now he was used to sleeping.  On the hard ground, under a tree, hoping it didn’t rain or something didn’t creep up on them in the night.  Here he had a bed, a warm hearth, and what made this room the best: his own tub.  

Steam billowed off the hot pool, and he had already leaned his swords against the bed and laid out his soon to be old armor on a chaise.  His head swimming in alcohol and a steady buzz already forming in his ears, the Witcher eased himself into his first bath in weeks that wasn’t a cold river.  As he immersed himself in that heat, so did he immerse himself in his thoughts.

As much as he tried to tell himself he was done with his contract, that it was time to move onto the next one, he couldn’t shake her from his thoughts.  She had latched on, settling herself in such a way that he swore he felt a tug in his heart to seek her out.  His mind locked down and gobbled up every detail of her, unwilling to lose a single shred.  Gajeel told himself it was simple infatuation.  He was a man’s man, and as Lily and his other acquaintances liked to tell him at times, he was a simple one.  Not simple as an insult, necessarily, but he knew what he liked, and typically if he wanted it, he went after it.  Gajeel had no reservations admiring the beauties of the flesh, and as a Witcher his basest desires were some of the only emotional inclinations that were left after the mutations had taken their holds on him.  

But this, this felt different from infatuation or lust, as little as he was able to distinguish between emotional nuances.  And learning of the strange connections between Radovid’s movements, the activities here in this very city, and knowing she was just outside the walls of Novigrad where her hunter was currently docked, had his head spinning.  He’d taken her exactly where she wanted to go, and yet he had taken her to such a dangerous place.  Radovid had no need to commune with the Nilfgaardians to hunt down the sorceresses.  He was well within his means to do it himself without stooping to cavorting with the enemy, so what was different now?  Why would both sides work together to gain access to the five remaining sorceresses of the Lodge?

Gajeel groaned, dragging a wet hand through his now unbound hair.  He leaned his head back against the smooth wooden rim of the tub, then sunk in, submerging himself completely for several moments.  In the silent, immersive heat, his drunken mind wandered down simpler paths.  He thought again of that night after the Fiend, sitting in front of her fireplace as she tended to his wounds, touched his skin.  A burning in his chest forced him back up to the surface, and with both hands he wiped his face.  

The Witcher groaned again into his hands as that memory took on a mind of its own.  He thought now of how much he would have wanted her to touch more of him.  He could feel her eyes on him, hear her breath hitch and hear the change in her heartbeat when he took off his armor and tunic.  Gajeel knew she was looking at him, at the bare skin, and now more than before, he savored that.  He imagined her trailing her fingers along each scar, featherlight touches sending chills through him, asking him how he got each one.  A wayward spear or five, a gryphon’s claws, a werewolf’s teeth, an endrega’s acid.  She would outline each one with her fingers as he told her, moving to the next, wondering if she should kiss them...

I wonder if she has any.

The sudden thought rocked him back to the present before he could finish imagining doing the same to her and he nearly choked, mouth completely dry. “Fuck,” he hissed.  The Witcher shook his head, scattering water from his black hair.  “Fucking dog,” he scolded himself.  “Fucking beer.”  With everything she had to face now, she was of course not thinking of him.  He was just the Witcher who’d happened to find her twice, and each time he served her a purpose and that was the end of it.  This was the end of it.  She hadn’t a thought to spare for him and he would do best to stop sparing them for her.

What was more, he didn’t know her at all, just who she was and some of what she could do.  He knew she was a skilled sorceress, he knew she was kind, he knew she was plucky and smart, and he knew she was beautiful.  Only a handful of things, and all very basic.  There was so much more that made up a person and he only had a handful of details.  She had even less of him: he was a Witcher, and good at killing.  That was it.

Gajeel growled deep in his throat and threw his gaze up to the roof.  Stick with the brothel girls, that’s so much simpler.  I don’t have time for this bullshit.  He had a job to do tomorrow, and then he would take himself, and his new armor, out of this shithole city.

After cleaning himself off, he rose from the now lukewarm water, illuminated by the candles about the room.  He grabbed a towel off the chair nearby and absentmindedly used it to dry his hair, hardly bothering with the rest of his crafted body.

He padded, dripping, over to the nearest window and didn’t give half a shit who saw him as he gazed out on the dimly lit city.  From the top floor, he had enough of a view to see several blocks, and though he knew he could not see all the way to Hierarch Square, he could see the orange aura, and the sparkling columns of smoke rising from whomever they’d caught that night.  Someone drunk and careless, having run into the wrong sort of people.  His gut twisted uncontrollably as every wet muscle tensed for a few seconds, knowing that in every realm of possibility, it could have been her.  As he turned to fall into bed, he refused to acknowledge even a kernel of that possibility.

Gajeel fell into sleep almost immediately after his head hit the pillow, and that entire night every one of his dreams was consumed with her, and everything he’d started to think of that his conscious mind wouldn’t fully allow.

‘You two continue as you have, together.’

‘We will.’

The words twisted, the first voice becoming it’s own, and her voice, the two words, becoming two separate threads. Their ends wove into each other, forming a knot, and she could feel a tug around her heart, staring at the tie.  Beyond it, in the dark, she saw the silhouette standing there, back to her.  The twin hilts peeked over his shoulder, and she didn’t need to see his face to know who it was.  

Weakly, she reached out into the dark and wrapped her fingers around the knot, pulling lightly.  The silhouette of the man she knew faltered slightly, turning so slowly to look over his shoulder at her… or through her.  There was no recognition in his face, only surprise and a searching gaze.

She knew they were not alone.  She could feel the other presence, but even as she kept her grip on that tie, the thicker thread of the three lead off into pure black.  Nothing, but something attached.  She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out, pure silence surrounding her until…

Until those two statements repeated themselves one more time, and she felt the tug once more in her chest.

The sun had barely started to light up the horizon when Gajeel stalked along the shore, looking for the dock Natsu had mentioned.  His body churned through alcohol faster than a normal man’s, but he still felt the effects of the many beers he downed that very night.  Still, his senses were more acute than a human’s, keenly listening for the signature gargle and choke of any drowners.

It took until he got closer to where Natsu had told him the dock would be for him to start to hear the sound.  Along with wet crunches, the sound of something tearing, and quick squabbles between multiple beasts.  A dumped carcass, or they got a hold of someone else, he thought.  The Witcher walked quietly, slowly, his yellow eyes nearly flaring in the low light as he focused ahead.  

Everything in him stilled, every thought left his head except for what he came up upon now.  Gajeel reached behind him, grabbing the hilt of his silver blade.  With a soft hiss, he pulled it from its sheath, the pink dawnlight sparkling on it’s brilliant edges.

All the sounds along the shore stopped instantly, and a wicked grin spread onto his face.  They knew he was there, but no Gajeel did not pause, he held no reserve.  In many ways, he wanted them to know.  Drowners were simple.  They would not flee, they would not strategize.  They picked up on signs of new prey, and swarmed.  It was only a matter of drawing them all to him.  Something that his heart leapt at, that surged blood through his veins and sharpened every one of his senses.  He could smell them, hear every sound creeping towards him, and could feel the vibrations in the sand at his feet.

Gajeel spun his blade once, stalking forward enough to see their slick, blue and red bodies around the bend.  Each one of them already faced him, brandishing claws and gnashing bloody teeth. He could see why people thought they were born of drowned men, having the same shape as a human and looking as though they crept out of some fairytale.  It was some feeble attempt at coming up with reasoning for the monstrous bodies produced by the cataclysm so long ago.  

There were only four total, trotting towards him with heavy, wet slaps on the sand.  He laughed under his breath, feeling one of the other few, base emotions that Witchers could still manage: predation.  Gajeel was a perfect hunter as he allowed them to approach, allowed them to take the first swing that he spun around on the balls of his feet.  He spun a full rotation, slicing his blade straight through the back of the first monster with little resistance.  Gajeel stomped his foot down to stop the turn and with a spray of sand quickly changed direction to swing back in the opposite direction, sinking his silver sword into the face of a second drowner.  

Too quick, a third met his swing with a slash of rot-covered claws, sharp enough to pierce into his armor.  Gajeel bit out a growl of pain, dropping his wounded arm but swinging a heavy fist over his shoulder with his other hand.  It was enough to knock back the monster, but Gajeel had to jump backwards to avoid the teeth of the fourth, just as the third hauled itself up.  He swung to hurl blood off his blade and regained his footing and his stance, beckoning them both to come for him.  His silver blade was gripped in his right hand, and his left hand was poised up in front of him.

Both remaining drowners crept towards him, sounding like they were choking on their own saliva.  One barked out a snarl and lurched forward, just as Gajeel drew a single sign in the air and a wave of fire flew outwards to met them.  Both shrieked in complete agony, stumbling backwards while pawing at their faces.  They could not see the Witcher charge at them, twisting to the side enough to swing out a stroke with that blade so wide that it tore through both of them.

The two bodies dropped, twitching, into the sand with a wet thud, and Gajeel turned his gaze to the not-so-distant homes that surely must have been roused from sleep by this.  The homes, with their small pig pens and goat yards, must have been the ones disposing here.  The Witcher looked to the bodies, leeching black blood into the sand freely, and grabbed the nearest body.  He dragged it through the sand as much as he could before the ground beneath it ran clean again, and grabbed another to do the same.  He did this with each one of the bodies, and by the time he finished, Gajeel climbed up the bank several paces to observe the scene behind him.

Smeared messily, but still legibly into the sand with the bodies, was a simple message: ‘we eat.’

Ought to be enough to make them second guess it, Gajeel thought with a grin to himself.  Gruesome? Perhaps, but it was a clear enough message and he was not about to start preaching himself to the people that lived here.  He turned abruptly, ready to collect on his reward from his friend’s forge.  

The Witcher found himself pausing, however, as he knew he would.  She was here.  This was where her friend lived, and where she was staying.  Hopefully concealed and safe from the Witch Hunters.  Gajeel rallied all his willpower to not go in her direction.  He knew he would be tempted to do so, and he knew it was useless to try.  It would be an affront, and it was none of his business to seek her out again.  What would he even say, or offer to her?  Some half-baked concern or desire to help?  He was a monster hunter for hire, not a body guard and certainly not guard to the Lodge.

Gajeel huffed out a breath, rolling his shoulders and trying to focus on the new armor he was about to attain.  Hopefully more comfortable than this ensemble he’d looted off a dead bandit.  Leave it.  Leave it alone and just move the fuck on, damnit, he scolded himself, his nerves still alive with the fire his dreams had ignited them with.  He’d awoken in a very cold sweat that morning, remembering every detail his mind had decided to conjure up.  He had been so entrenched in dreams so brazen that even his conscience must have caught up to how out of place it was and it jerked him awake so violently he felt as though dragged by his chest, heaving and sweating.  He swore to himself in that moment that he was already too deep.  Gajeel told himself to just let kingly plots take their own course.  Witchers were not political figures, they were not kingslayers(despite public opinion), and the war between two territories and their conspiracies had no place for him.  He knew this.  One any day he knew this.

And with that, he resolutely made his way back the way he had come, back through the southern gate to seek out his friend and cash in.  Gajeel focused on the intrigue of whatever awaited him in that shop.  As much as he clashed with Natsu, the man was a damn good blacksmith and could create finer wares than any he had encountered thus far.  Granted, the blacksmith had an edge, being what he was--or wasn’t, to the rest of the world--and if he said he had something good that he would not sell to just anyone, then it had to be extraordinary.  That was enough for him to fixate on, a small part of him growing eager at the prospect and what he was about to attain.

The streets were quiet, save for the march of guards and grumbles of the Witch Hunters, maybe a few sickened drunks, at this time of the morning.  He savored the quiet and the uncrowded streets as he made his way towards Natsu’s forge.  On the way, he could not help but pass through Hierarch Square, and could not help but stare at the burned shells of former beings on the pyres.  A halfling, and the body of what had clearly once been a male judging by the broad shoulders.  A tension he hadn’t known was there released from his shoulders, and with a small huff he continued onwards through the streets.

The sign for Natsu’s forge was only just starting to be lit by the morning light, creaking every so softly on its hinges in a gentle morning breeze.  Outside the city the air was fresh but here, near this forge, it smelled of smoke and the city’s own unique aroma of filth.  The Witcher squared himself in front of the door and a wicked grin spread on his face as he pounded his fist, loudly, on the door four times.  With his sensitive hearing, he heard a jump and the clatter of several dishes, knicknacks, etcetera.  A harsh swear, shuffling, and the spitting of his name.  Among other profanities and titles.  

It took several moments for the door to rip open, and Gajeel hardly flinched as the surly blacksmith lurched out of the doorway and grabbed him by the front of his armor.  He could almost feel the heat spreading from where the grip was.

“Witcher…” he snarled, dark eyes glaring up at the morning’s offender, “do you have any clue what time it is?”

“I’m here to collect,” Gajeel replied simply.  “Your dock is clear.”

Slowly, with a gaze oozing hatred, he looked to the drowner blood flecked on his armor.  So it was.  “When I said… to come by in the ‘morning,’” he began, but the Witcher interrupted him.

“It’s mornin.’  Not my fault ya can’t bounce back the morning after like I can,” he said with a shrug, still grinning down at the furious man, eyes bloodshot from too much beer and not enough sleep.  “I did what ya asked and I got money in my pockets, ya gonna show me this armor or not.”

Another tense moment, and the blacksmith loosed his tense breath, letting go of the armor.  He turned from Gajeel waving over his shoulder, “Come in already.  Don’t touch anything,” he growled, earning a ‘yeah yeah’ from the man who had heard this many times before.  Natsu led Gajeel through the chaotic, cluttered space to the back of the shop where he had several large mannequins to display different armor sets.  

Many of them looked like what Gajeel had already seen before from him, nothing particularly unusual but certainly his handiwork.  But then his eyes fell upon not one of the mannequins, but a neatly folded stack of armor and pants, with the boots and gauntlets laid next to it on the counter.  As though Natsu had taken the time to set them out the night before.  His heart tripped a beat at the sight of it, the metal of blackest black all so intricately crafted and layered that it was no wonder he wouldn’t sell it to anyone else.  “Ain’t this just the sweetest thing.  Ya made it just for me,” the Witcher crooned, and Natsu immediately snorted.

“Oh shove it, Black Steel,” he retorted, turning to stand by the armor and face his friend, resting his hand on the dark armor.  “Best materials supplied straight from Toissant.  Fire resistant, enhanced against slashing or tearing,” he paused and pointedly moved his gaze to the drying blood on Gajeel’s right arm, around the torn sleeve, “and sturdy enough to soften a hammer’s blow.  It’s not indestructible, even though I know that’s all you just heard, but damn if it’s not some of my finest work.  I’d normally charge over three thousand for the whole set, but for you…” he paused, thinking, “Nine hundred.”

Gajeel pondered the price for several quiet moments, unable to tear his gaze from the set.  Damn if it wasn’t the nicest thing he’d wear in a long time, and the price was a steal.  “Got one more thing to offer ya,” he started, reaching for a pouch at his hip that did not contain his coin.  Protest started to rise in the rose-haired male, but Gajeel cut him off waving his free hand.  “Cool it, I ain’t asking for more money off, just gonna sweeten the deal for ya.  Keep up our good faith.”

Natsu’s brows rose, waking up just a little more as he seemed to pick up on what Gajeel was offering.  “What did you bring?  From what?” he asked, eagerly, as the Witcher pulled out a bundled scrap of cloth that had been balled up to hold something within.  He handed it over to the blacksmith, who opened it up to reveal what looked like a long, moss-stained shard of wood.

“Spriggan contract a few weeks ago.  The smoke from that oughta knock ya on yer ass,” he explained with a small smirk as his friend sniffed at the piece.  Gajeel told himself that this was largely why the blacksmith continued to put up with him, aside from the steady flow of coin for his best wares, because it certainly wasn’t his shining personality or wicked left hook.

Natsu may have been trapped in a human body, but there were ways he could just touch, brush against what he used to be.  Nothing that would break the curse, but more of a high that fisstech could barely touch.  Burning any sort of enchanted, otherworldly wood produced smoke that to anyone else was nothing different, but to Natsu, it allowed him to hallucinate memories that he didn’t have access to anymore.  Memories that had been locked away with the curse to keep him from reaching for any sort knowledge that might help him out of that body.  Natsu had discovered it by accident nearly two decades ago, and it was how he had remembered he was even cursed to begin with.  

He’d already known Gajeel at that point--who for the life of him couldn’t figure out why his medallion hummed around Natsu--and struck a deal with him to bring the materials, in exchange for cheaper prices off the best, mastercrafted armor he’d ever get his hands on.  Spriggan wood gave him almost a full three minutes, leshen wood just a hair less.  And the wood of any trees that had been enchanted or possessed gave him only about a minute.  He could never know what he would get, what memory, and how valuable or useless it would be, but if he wasn’t reliving a life far better than that stuck as a simple human, he was searching for anything he might have known about breaking curses.  Or the words used to deliver this curse to begin with.

Natsu nodded deeply, genuinely, to the Witcher.  “Consider yourself forgiven for wakin’ me up at the ass crack of dawn,” he grinned, flashing too-white teeth.  He wrapped the wood piece back up in the cloth and stuffed them into the pocket of his trousers.  “You remember where the back room is, go get yourself in it and I’ll make sure it fits.  You look like you been putting on weight so I’ll have to double check.”

Gajeel clicked his tongue, dropped his coin purse on the counter, and scooped up all of the items to head off into the back.  As he removed his old armor behind the closed door, he inspected the once-deep gouges the drowner had given him, already healing.  The scar forming at the edges of the tears was bright pink, fresh, and a new story to add to the spread across his skin.  He halted himself from thinking again about scars, and instead focused on getting himself into the new armor.  Not surprisingly, it fit almost perfectly and was leaps and bounds more comfortable than the older set.  

He looked down at himself, moving in different ways to test the fit, admiring the harsh points, angles, and scale-like plates that rose up from his shoulders and spread across his chest.  Typical, he thought, amused.  The blacksmith certainly had his trademark, and the more he remembered about himself the more his armor style evolved.  For the better.  

Gajeel looked at himself in the small tabletop mirror and grinned in approval.  He’d be a force to be reckoned with in these.  The Witcher tied up his black main into a ponytail once again with a long strip of leather, and rolled his shoulders after to assure himself of the fit.  

More than pleased with the weight and the feel of the armor, he gathered up the old armor and proceeded out of the room.  He had already started to speak when he just barely heard a door open at the front of the shop, “Ya want these old ones for inspiration, right?” he taunted, looking up from his arms as he rounded the corner and saw Natsu holding the door open.  In the doorway were two hooded figures, one slender male with orange hair, the other a noticeably shorter female, dull brown locks peeking out of the hood.

Both looked to him quickly, and he could see their eyes widen in the shadow of their hoods, as Gajeel’s mouth went dry.

[agcnysembrace]

Evelynn’s Beginnings || CANON

     Within the dark seams of Runeterra, the demon Evelynn searches for her next victim. She lures in prey with the voluptuous façade of a human female, but once a person succumbs to her charms, Evelynn’s true form is unleashed. She then subjects her victim to unspeakable torment, gratifying herself with their pain. To the demon, these liaisons are innocent flings. To the rest of Runeterra, they are ghoulish tales of lust gone awry and horrific reminders of the cost of wanton desire. 

     Evelynn was not always a skilled huntress. She began eons ago, as something primordial, shapeless, and barely sentient. This nascent wisp of shadow existed, numb and unroused by any stimulation, for centuries. It might have remained so, had the world not been upended by conflict. The Rune Wars, as they would come to be known, brought an era of mass suffering the world had never known. 

     As people across Runeterra began to experience a vast array of pain, anguish, and loss, the shadow stirred. The nothingness it had known for so long had been replaced by the manic vibrations of an agonized world. The creature quivered with excitement. 

     As the Rune Wars escalated, the world’s torment grew so intense that the shadow felt as if it might burst. It drank in all of Runeterra’s pain, which it experienced as boundless pleasure. The sensation nourished the creature, and over time, it transformed into something more. It became a demon, a ravenous spiritual parasite that fed on the basest of human emotions. 

     When the wars finally ended, the world’s suffering waned, and the demon found itself growing desperate. The only pleasure it had ever known was born of other creatures’ misery. Without their pain, it felt nothing, just as it had in its earliest days.

     If the world would not provide the suffering the demon needed to thrive, it would have to make its own. It needed to inflict pain on other beings so that it could experience that elation again. 

     At first, catching prey was a challenge for the demon. It could move undetected in its shadow form, but to touch a human, the creature needed to manifest as something tangible. It made several attempts to fashion a physical body from its shadow-flesh, but each result was more monstrous than the last, scaring off her prey. 

     The demon realized it needed a shape that was pleasing to humans, one that would not only lure them right into its claws, but would offer them ecstasy born of their own desires, so that their pain would be that much sweeter. 

     From the shadows, it began to study those it sought to prey upon. It tailored its flesh to their liking, learned to say what they wanted to hear, and to walk in a manner they found alluring. 

     In a matter of weeks, the demon had perfected her physique, leading dozens of enamored victims to be tortured to death at her hands. Though she relishes the exquisite pain of each of her victims, she always finds herself wanting more. Each human’s desires are so small, and they always expire too soon. Their pain, too fleeting to give her anything more than tiny morsels of pleasure, is just enough to tide her over to the next feeding.

     She yearns for the day she can plunge the world into utter chaos, and she can return to an existence of pure, rapturous ecstasy.

[cycloptictarot]

Maybe I have a reading regarding M’s ♋️🖤🌊 (girl) feelings for me? - ♍️💗💞 (girl) I’m not sure if you have guidelines so I’m not sure if a second question is okay but what would the nature of a romantic/sexual relationship with her be like? thank you! 💞💗💗💗

Hello, and sure you can ask more than one! On my blog I tend to max it out at 3 tarot cards, so that leaves room for 3 questions! I usually base it on what I feel is needed for the question, so this works perfectly! 🌠✨☀🌠✨☀

For your reading I pulled 2 tarot cards. The first is how M feels about you currently, and the second is what your relationship would be like if you pursued it! I also pulled 2 oracle cards as clarifiers!

For how M feels about you currently, we have the 3 of Bones (Pentacles) reversed. This gives me the feeling that you do have the potential of pursuing something romantic with her, but it may take a little bit to get things moving. I feel that you may both have feelings for one another currently, but things haven't moved passed thinking at this point. You may both be thinking about the "what ifs" of a relationship, and due to this no one is actively pursuing the other. I feel like in order for there to be potential of a relationship, someone will have to confront the other about their feelings! So it may be worthwhile for you when you feel the time is right to ask her out!

For what this relationship could be like if you choose to pursue it, we have the 5 of Bones (Pentacles) reversed. This tells me that you two have the potential to be very supportive of one another if you decide to date! In the most basest of senses, having a second person with a second source of income can help you feel much more stable than you may have felt before. But in the grander scheme of things I feel you will drive each other to succeed in your goals outside of the relationship! Through a stable and loving connection, you may be able to recieve promotions and even new job offers at this time! A lot can be gained from a supportive partner!

For your first oracle card we have Cycle. This is telling me that the end of things from the past can bring new things along. This could represent the end of a friendship between one another into something more, or it could represent something else. If either of you have been recently split, it may be telling you to take a bit of time to allow these past energies to move on before pursuing a new relationship. If the past cycle hasn't fully completed yet, it could have the potential to cause some issues within starting a new relationship. Once the cycle has cleansed through, new energies can be brought in!

For your second oracle card we have Will-O-Wisp - Guidance. This cute little fireball is known for leading travelers through forests. While the normal interpretation of this creature is negative, the cards depict it as something much different! This is saying that listening to your intuition can aid you greatly in how to approach this situation. You realize more than you may know, so taking the time to meditate and look inside yourself for guidance can lead you to great places! Trust in your gut!

Thank you for the ask! I hope that you found this insightful, and I wish you the best of luck! 🌙🐰