#sheep. sheep are on thin ice

[fagtainsparklez]

the thing about horses is that they know what it means to sin and they revel in it. horse heaven exists yet it is barren because all horses knowingly gallop into the fiery pits of hell when their time comes. they welcome it with open hooves

[kitkat13001]

✦ — 1. long time, no see . . .

⋆.˚✮ prev ⟡ m. list ⟡ next ✮ 1.8k words

-> hitoshi shinsou x pro-hero!reader

✮ you didn’t think you’d ever see hitoshi shinsou again, but you find yourself much closer to him than you’d really care to be… ✮ tracklist: do i wanna know? - arctic monkeys, black sheep - brie larson and metric, stargirl interlude - lana del rey, ykwim - yot club

“you’re joking.”

you look up at edgeshot in disbelief. he’s wearing his usual neutral expression, though he raises an eyebrow at your incredulous tone.

“excuse me?”

“i can’t work with him!” you cry, staring down at the file he’d just handed you, utterly dumbstruck. 

if he had just given you the name, you wouldn’t have spared a second glance. but there’s a photo attached, a news clipping action shot of a hero crouched atop a building in a crowded city. you instantly recognize the wild purple hair and sharp violet eyes, the trademark black outfit and mask, the wiry scarf wound loosely around his shoulders. seeing him unlocks a wave of memories, some good and some that you don’t care to relive. 

“and why not?”

you shake your head before nostalgia takes you, pinching the bridge of your nose. 

“what, you know him or something?”

know him? you’re very well acquainted with hitoshi shinsou — nighthide, as printed on the file. 

when did he change that? you wonder bitterly. last you knew, he was going as mindjack (the nickname you two had picked out in u.a.). 

at least, you were acquainted, up until four years ago. you don’t think you’ve spoken a word since. 

“yeah,” you reply, shaking your head. “something like that.”

“you don’t want the assignment?” 

your heart drops at that. field work is by no means hard to come by. but particular missions offered specifically to you, and with direct media exposure? this is what launches careers in the pro-world.

it’s a pretty straightforward assignment, the kind you’d normally jump at. a good source has pinned an underground crime organization, and there’s a huge weapons shipment order to move out in a couple weeks. you’d be running reconnaissance until the bust and then hopefully catching them in act. 

a good time in the field and decent publicity? you should be jumping for joy! and you would be, if you were working with anyone else…

“can’t you put me on with kamui?” you beg. “or even takeyama!”

kamihara shakes his head. “they’re both tied up with their own missions right now. and besides, the operation works best with new blood. a prime young rookie like you paired with emerging talent like him? you should be running to an opportunity like this.”

you chew on the inside of your cheek, deep in thought and memory. after the way you left things…

“and he already agreed?”

“hm? well, i’d suppose so.”

“...and he knows he’d be working with me?”

“does it really matter?”

“yes!”

his brow pinches a little, studying you carefully. “enough with the theatrics, please. do you want the job or not? i wouldn’t have offered it if i didn’t think you could handle it.”

you puff your cheeks out, holding your breath and debating for a very long moment, but you know you’re running on thin ice now. you finally release the breath, heaving a dramatic sigh. “ugh, fine!”

edgeshot leaves you with the papers, mumbling something about your melodrama and rolling his eyes. 

you stare down at hitoshi’s picture and scowl, unease swirling in your stomach. “great.”

it’s not long before you’re face-to-face with shinsou for real this time. you’d been dreading it all morning. you had considered reaching out and texting him, but everything you typed out sounded so stupid that you’d deleted it immediately before sending. what would you even say? sorry we haven’t spoken in years, guess we’re coworkers now! you didn’t even know if he still had the same number, or if he’d know it was you. your stomach turns just thinking about it. 

you’re standing on the sidewalk outside the agency with edgeshot, his hand on your shoulder, while you wait. 

sure enough, hitoshi arrives right on time. you remember that about him, that he was annoyingly punctual. hardly early, but never late. 

“‘toshi,” you say, before you can think about it. it’s the only name you’d ever called him since high school, really. your cheeks burn and you rush to correct yourself. “i mean shinsou! nighthide.”

the names are unfamiliar on your tongue. they’re clearly just as much to him, if the way his eyes widen almost imperceptibly is any indication. 

his eyes dart away quickly and he gives a quiet greeting in response, more to your superior than to you. 

you’re only half-listening when kamihara briefly reiterates the main points of the mission as he walks you both into the building. 

hitoshi is still as a stone, so you guess it falls to you to break the ice. 

“sooo…” you lapse into uncomfortable silence, fingers tapping against your thighs as you try to think of something to say. “…nighthide, huh?”

“yeah…”

“what happened to mindjack?”

he shrugs. “PR agent suggested it was time for a rebrand.”

“mindjack is a perfectly good name!” you scoff (not to mention that you helped him come up with it). “and since when do you have a PR agent?”

“i don’t.”

you frown up at him. “you…don’t?”

“i went once. for a consultation.”

“a consultation?”

“will you stop repeating everything i say?” he quips agitatedly. 

“i’m sorry, i’m just trying to understand!” you huff, frustrated. “don’t you think it’s weird how little we know about each other now?”

“you were the one who wanted it like this,” hitoshi replies sharply, an edge to his voice that you’ve heard before — though it’s never been directed at you. “so i really don’t understand why you’re so upset.”

“i’m not upset!”

he shoots you a pointed glance, and it’s not until he looks down that you realize you’re on your toes, leaning forward towards him the way you used to do when you’d bicker with him all those years ago. you two have always been sharp-tongued and quick witted, but until your split there had never been any malice behind the petty arguments. 

“i’m not upset,” you say again, but your voice carries the tone of a petulant child. 

hitoshi scoffs. anger flares up in your chest when he rolls his eyes. 

“what the hell is your problem?” you demand. 

“you know what? you haven’t changed at all—”

your bickering is silenced when edgeshot cuts in, his voice firm and commanding. 

“that’s enough!” he orders, getting between you two before you can jump at hitoshi. “if you two can’t work together like adults, this operation is terminated. you’ll both be back to the drawing board, do you understand me?”

“yes, sir,” you and shinsou grumble in unison, both refusing to make eye contact. 

he leaves you with one more cutting look, leaving you both feeling like scolded schoolchildren. 

you both stand there, sulking in silence and refusing eye contact for another series of long moments. 

“i guess we should…i should show you around. or something,” you grouse, arms crossed and head turned. 

“yeah, whatever. you’re the boss.”

there’s a mocking undertone to his voice that makes you seethe just a little, but you take off down the hallway without another word. 

you give him a brief tour of the agency before you head out for patrol. the awkward silence is eating you alive, but your stubbornness wins out. 

you walk the streets in silence for a long time, keeping an eye out for anything out of the ordinary, but it’s a nice day and there’s not a whole lot going on. the sun is out and people mingle on the street, but it’s not terribly crowded or rowdy today. 

a group of kids that passes you giggle and wave when they see you. you flash them a smile and a peace sign, watching them scamper off whispering to each other in awe. you don’t quite catch the side-eye shinsou shoots you.

“so how’s the big pro life? everything you ever dreamed of?” he asks, sarcasm tainting his tone on the second question. 

you ignore his dig and shrug. “it’s fine. lotta paperwork.”

“yeah, you run into that when you work through a big organization.”

“tch,” you scoff. “like you don’t do paperwork.”

“not nearly as much as you.”

you want to say something back, but you can't keep bickering like this if you have any hope of keeping this job. so you swallow your comeback, clench your teeth, and keep your mouth shut.

patrol passes by uneventfully, and soon enough you’re packing up to go home. you’re walking your normal path back when you notice shinsou on the sidewalk up ahead. 

“staying in the area?” you ask when your paces even out, trying not to sound too curious. 

he casts a sidelong glance at you before returning his gaze to the sidewalk ahead. “never left.”

you stop short, dumbstruck. he keeps walking. “what?”

you could’ve sworn he moved away after everything happened between you. since that night, you hadn’t seen him even in passing. not once did you ever run into him at a coffee shop or on the street. not even at hero conventions, though that made sense because he hates the press. 

hitoshi shrugs. “i never left.”

“you did!” you insist. “i’ve seen you on the news! you’ve gone as far north as hokkaido!”

“i travel a lot. for work.”

you jog to catch up, his long strides having carried him all the way to the crosswalk and left you stupefied behind. 

“how come i’ve never seen you then?”

he shrugs again. his easygoing demeanor is slowly driving you insane. “you live on the busy side of town. and i work nights.”

you huff to yourself in disbelief, crossing your arms. 

“surprised you’re walking anyway,” he continues, sounding bored. he doesn’t wait for you before crossing the street. “thought they would’ve given you a fancy company car by now.”

you don’t bother with a response lest you face an earful from edgeshot tomorrow. you know he’s just saying it to make you mad, but god is it working. had he always been this insufferable?

you vaguely remember meeting him at u.a. all those years ago, his insistence on not making friends (and how stupid you thought that was). it didn’t take you long to wear him down then, but now...?

back to strangers. it’s going to be a long couple of weeks...

dividers by @/saradika-graphics, header by kitty with pics from pinterest!

taglist: @deadhands69 @frvv @cccandynecklaces @tokeposts @lover-no-lover61 @getvaccinated @accidentpronedork @crushmeeren @p4rkcha3w0n @cyberesc @bloomstream @eloshifts @bythevay @cc1306 @nobodybutnnoorr

-> open! send ask/comment to be added <3

[yanderes-galore]

Yandere Reiner who uses his Titan Form to kidnap his beloved Reader (Like Beauty and the Beast) this can be before or after their revealed to be traitors to the Survey Corps

Reader has always been sweet, kind, gentle and much smaller and dainty compared to everyone else, especially to Reiner

Reader is female if that’s okay

I am such a Reiner fan it hurts.... I'm even more of a fan of Titan Shifters interacting with their obsession as their Titan.

Armored Beast

Yandere! Reiner Braun Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Possessive behavior, Kidnapping, Violence, Murder, Delusional behavior, Blood, Manipulation, Forced relationship.

Reiner knew you were an entirely different creature than him, both literally and and metaphorically. You two aren't meant for each other. You're part of two different worlds...

Yet he still wants you all the same.

You're sweet, kind, gentle... like a sweet little lamb compared to him. You didn't look like you belonged among the cadets or the scouts. But, like many others, you were forced into the role.

No doubt due to his and Bertolt's doing.

Compared to you, Reiner's ruthless, intimidating, rough... a predator, a wolf. Despite such a nature he pretends to be like the rest of you. He pretends to be nice and friendly just like you...

A wolf in sheep wool.

Reiner didn't expect to fall in love with anyone when he came here. He had a mission he had to lead. All that mattered was breaking down the walls.

However, Reiner found himself drawn towards you. You were a cadet just like him, explaining your motives to join with such enthusiasm. You want to help people... you lost so much during the attack in Shiganshina.

You even asked him as cadets to help you train. You looked so determined to slay the beast who ruined your life. You lost so much to the Armored Titan...

You lost so much to him.

Reiner knew it was wrong to love you. You were an Eldian, a young woman trying to make a difference. You had no idea Reiner was the one who took everything from you.

He often scolds himself when he thinks of you fondly. You're a distraction. Plus, if he really loved you, he should leave you alone.

He shouldn't hurt you more than he already has.

Yet despite his attempts to ignore his feelings, you stuck by him. You were completely oblivious to his true nature... He should push you away. Instead... Reiner selfishly allows himself to be in your presence.

You always cared for him, you always clung to him. It never failed to make him feel heated. He enjoyed you so much he tried to delude himself to accept it.

Reiner desperately wanted to see himself as some armored knight for you. He wanted to be seen as your protector. When he was still a cadet and soon a scout... He enjoyed that role.

He loved to protect you... to ignore what he really was.

Unfortunately, Reiner couldn't ignore what he was forever. He's a Warrior, a Titan, a traitor.... He's an armored beast... not some knight.

He's a beast that's completely brought to his knees for one damn girl.

Reiner couldn't play your guardian forever. As much as he wanted to pretend to be yours... to pretend to be like you... He's too different. He isn't like you, won't ever be.

But like any beast... He's selfish.

It was only a matter of time before Reiner and Bertolt were found out. Annie was already caught and hidden away. Reiner knew he and Bertolt were on thin ice.

Once found out... Reiner had no choice but to fulfill the plan he and Bertolt were meant for...

It's been a long three years... it's time to go home.

The moment he was attacked by Mikasa after failing to recruit Eren, Reiner relied on instinct. For the most part he was focused on Eren. However... the eyes of the Armored Titan kept flicking around the battle as Eren tried to restrain him.

He wanted to know where you were...

He just hopes Bertolt didn't hurt you....

By the end of the fight full of punching and biting, Reiner was able to tear through the nape of Eren's Titan. The taste of blood stains his tongue as he does so, the blood immediately steaming upon contact with the air. Upon recovering and ripping Eren away from the steaming flesh, Reiner had one more target.

You.

Poor you attempted to take Eren from him, swinging around his Titan with your ODM gear. Reiner was already aware you were running out of gas and blades. Part of him still didn't want to hurt you...

He's denied himself long enough.

Due to the thick plating of his Titan, you weren't able to pierce his skin. Instead, Reiner tore the hooks you embedded out of his plating before swinging you in front of him. Reiner almost feels... amused when he sees the fear in your eyes as he holds you upside down.

Pity flickers deep within him before he cups you into his hand, shoving you against his chest in a temporary prison. Upon recovering Bertolt and Ymir, Reiner made a break for it. Now... Reiner shouldn't bother hiding himself from you.

He cares little for the amount of gore on his hands and feet. The other Scouts shouldn't matter to him. All he really cares about is you.

Scouts attempt to stop his attempt to flee, but he swats them away. If not, he crushes them to a messy red pulp. Their blood stains his skin... painting him as the monster he is.

It's not the first time he's killed. No, that was with Marco. He doesn't even feel all that bad about it now... that cadet was always too damn friendly with you anyways.

He doesn't deny such a part of himself anymore...

Now you'll know the truth... and you'll love him for who he is...

Eventually.

---

Upon reaching the Giant Forest, Reiner made sure to be careful with you. You were vulnerable in these woods. While Ymir and Eren, the other captives, were Titans... You aren't.

Reiner never left your side since he took you with him. As his body steamed, he watched you unconscious form. He had already broken your ODM gear... you can't run.

You need him.

Reiner viewed you as his beauty. He may be a monster, beast, and Titan... but you're his beauty. He needs you... and now you need him.

He's given up scolding himself. It doesn't matter now. Who cares what you think right now... That can change. In fact... it will change... he just knows it.

It's what's on the inside that counts... but for Reiner, what does that prove? Is he really a monster or just misunderstood? When you wake up... you don't think of such concepts.

You just see a traitor... a murderer... a monster.

Reiner tries to show you he wasn't fully lying to you. He still loves you! In fact, he can't get you out of his head. He just wants you... needs you...!

You've always been his girl.

Yet you slap him away, growling like a cornered animal. You scream that you hate him. That he's a murderer. He's much worse than a traitor in your eyes.

He ruined your home. He killed your family. He pretended to be your friend, to be all buddy buddy after creating tragedy.

He's your enemy. The very Titan that stole everything from you. You couldn't believe it...

Here he was, stealing your life yet again.

Reiner is quiet when you yell at him. He responds to it like a child being scolded by their mother. He's stoic, accepting your words. These are the very same words he said to himself...

Not like it stopped him before.

"What do you even want from me!?" You cry, staring at Reiner in front of you like cornered prey. You look so vulnerable.

You look like you're meant to be his.

"I want you." Reiner states simply, watching you shake like a wounded animal. "I'm taking you home with me... right where you belong as my girl."

You call him crazy. You say he's a crazy and delusional monster. He accepts your comments, he doesn't deny they're true. He is a monster...

A lovesick monster who's willing to kill hundreds with one stomp if it meant he could keep you.

Out of everything in his life, you are the best thing that ever happened to him. Meanwhile, he's the worst thing that's ever happened to you. Yet again you two are opposites.

But you couldn't be more repulsed by him.

There isn't much you can do. You're surrounded by Titans and Eren doesn't look in the condition to shift again. You have no choice but to wait.

You can't do anything but sit and tolerate as Reiner caresses your cheek with an uncharacteristic softness.

"You don't believe I love you, do you?" Reiner whispers, his proximity blasting you with steam. You grimace, looking away despite his hand on your cheek.

"I hate you." You respond back, noticing Reiner's grip tighten for a moment.

"I... know you do." Reiner begrudgingly admits before gripping your shoulder. "But you'll learn I had no choice."

"You ruined my life... twice!" You yell, only for Reiner to shove you into his chest.

"Let me make it better, then." Reiner murmurs, pressing a kiss to your scalp. "Let me show you you're all that matters... That you're my beauty... My girl...."

"You're a brutal beast...!" You snarl, only for Reiner to cover your mouth.

"I know I am..." Reiner admits before leaning closer. "But I don't care... as long as I'm yours, I could care less what I am... just be mine."

"I would never." You seethe, Reiner seems to ignore what you said in order to pull you closer.

"You will." Reiner rebuts. "You will be mine and you won't have to worry about another Titan other than me ever again...."

You can argue all you want, nothing's going to shatter Reiner's little fairy-tale.

He'll take you home... get a house for you both... then live with you as his little wife...

He's a beast... yet you're his beauty... and he plans to get his happily ever after.

[ilium-ilia]

In Limbo

simon "ghost" riley x fem!reader | mafia!au | masterlist

Chapter Twelve: merry christmas

tw: none

You’re still in Simon’s arms when you wake up. 

Dull sunlight seeps through the window, casting the room in its pale glory. Each wall glows with a faint periwinkle as if every inch of this place is bitter and cold, in the grasp of some algid creature made of nothing but rime. If each wall is made of nothing but ice, then Simon is the very sun itself. The very essence of life flows from him and settles into you where it weighs down your bones and body, keeping you glued to him. 

You’re still curled up on your side with your head on his chest and face buried in the scent of him. His arm keeps you corralled like a guard dog herding sheep��worried you might stray too far out of his reach. His free hand rests on top of yours—still perched on his chest over his heart—where he gently taps at the space between your knuckles like he can read you through touch alone. There’s a quiet knowingness in his touch; a hushed relation he attempts to etch into your skin. You don’t know why, but you think he might be the only person in the entire world who understands your pain. 

At least, he’s been the only one that doesn’t try to instantly smother it away. 

His movements cease when your legs begin to wander, muscles stretching and sighing as you point your toes and groan. When you settle back into him, you hear his heart beating twice as fast. 

“Merry Christmas,” he whispers, voice low and rumbly. 

Smiling against his side, you sigh. “Merry Christmas, Si.” 

A childish squeal rips throughout the house, cutting through every wall as if it were as thin as tissue paper. Simon chuckles—forcing your head to jump up and down with the movement—as his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer. 

“There he is,” he murmurs. “Reckon we should get up. Unless you want a four year old prancin’ on the bed.” 

Simon moves, but when you stiffen he pauses. You cling to him like vines do. Long arms and tendrils, desperately searching for something to hold you steady—to keep you warm. Eventually, you let go. You ignore the pang in your chest when you do. 

“Yeah. Guess we shouldn’t keep the little guy waiting too long,” you chuckle in agreement. 

Joseph hardly waits for you and Simon to enter the living room—disheveled and groggy—before ripping into his presents. A myriad of gifts adorn the skirt of the Riley Family’s meticulously decorated tree. It’s nothing short of a Christmas miracle with filled stockings and toys wrapped in glistening paper. With each box that he picks up, he slowly reads out his name—“Jo-ss-iph!”—before diving into his gift and cheering at the new addition to his bountiful collection of toys. 

Beth and Tommy are half awake sitting on the floor with their son as they grin and coo over his blitheful reactions. His grandmother sits on the edge of her seat in her rocking chair as she helps to collect discarded wrapping paper and crinkled bows. Somehow, she looks even more excited about the gifts than Joseph does as her blue eyes gleam in the faint light of the Christmas tree.

The windows nearly shatter with the shriek he lets out at Simon’s gift. 

“Mama! Mama look! Look!” he cheers as he drags the oversized box towards Beth. “It’s the one they have on TV!” 

Beth’s eyes fill with relief and gratitude as she nods towards Simon. “What do you say to Uncle Simon?” 

A sheepish grin pulls at the boy’s cheeks as he quickly rushes to his uncle where he throws his arms around his leg. “Thank you!” 

Chuckling, Simon pulls his nephew into his lap with ease where he smothers him with a hug and a kiss on the head that leaves him giggling with his feet kicking. “You’re welcome, Joey.” 

As the morning speeds by, the Christmas tree looks more and more naked with each gift that’s opened. Barren and empty, yet still glistening with ornaments and crooked tinsel. You let yourself sink into the loveseat as you stare at the lights and the way it diffuses like a dream. That dream fractures as Simon slips off of the couch next to you in order to retrieve one small, lone gift hidden within the folds of the tree skirt. 

“Here,” he prompts as he returns to your side, holding it out for you. 

Blinking, you look back and forth between him and the object, fingers too timid to reach for it. Your name is written on a tag in small, curt handwriting. “For me?” 

“Go on,” he urges. “Open it.” 

Guilt clouds your mind as you gingerly take the box into your hands. It’s light. Hardly any bigger than the size of your palm, yet the bow on it is nearly twice as large. Expertly knotted, perfect loops, and long, curling ribbons. You purse your lips into a line as Simon leans forward, elbows resting on his knees, shoulder knocking against yours in the process. 

“But… You shouldn’t have. I… I didn’t get you anything,” you murmur. 

He shrugs. “You came all the way here with me. That’s all I wanted for Christmas.” 

Over the last few weeks, you��ve learned better than to try to argue with Simon, so you carefully tug on the bow. Soft silk becomes undone and flutters into your lap as you pop the top off of the box to reveal a fluffy, red mess. A miniature version of a red fox sits upon black velvet. It’s cartoonish, with an extra pointy nose and round, azure eyes. It’s more akin to a stuffed animal with soft, faux fur. A short chain protrudes from the top of its head with a small clasp on the end—a keychain. 

“Mrs. Price helped me pick it out,” he concedes. 

“I love it,” you say, nearly choking on the word. You continue to stare at it for a moment, fingers brushing over its fluff before playfully poking its plastic nose. When you look back up at Simon, you find him already looking at you—always looking at you. “Thank you.” 

A smile quietly pulls at the corner of his lip, scar tissue stretching and folding in on itself. “Glad you like it, sweetheart.” 

The butterflies that sentence plagues you with lingers all the way until dinner, and even then they still persist. They churn, twisting up a tempest within your stomach until your nerves jitter and jolt. You’re nearly knocking over your glass at the table as you try to conceal that new blaze inside of your chest—to douse out the flames with a simple sip of water. You wonder if the glowing embers left inside of you illuminate the soot covered bones of your ribs. Certainly, they have to do something to get rid of that insatiable darkness that’s plagued you for so long. 

Mrs. Riley has prepared a lovely meal for the Christmas feast. Largely in thanks to Joseph—of course—who had the very important task of helping his mother whisk the gravy for the mash. It’s one of the largest homestyle meals you’ve had in ages. Honey coated ham, Yorkshire pudding, roast beef, roasted potatoes; you don’t think you’ve eaten so much in quite some time. When you first make your plate you can’t even see the bottom of it, and when you’re finished it’s practically sparking clean. Might as well skip the wash and put it straight back into the cupboard. 

When dinner and dessert are finished, everyone helps clean up (like a well oiled machine—as Tommy says—to which Joseph quotes back clumsily as if it’s a mantra he hears often). There’s time for one quick Christmas movie and a few drinks before yawns begin to infect everyone, and the hands of the old grandfather clock in the living room strikes ten. Dainty chimes echo quietly throughout the house. Soft and careful, as if to not wake anyone. 

Everyone begins to migrate to their rightful place after that. There’s Mrs. Riley, who shuffles upstairs to her room after giving everyone a bone crushing hug. There’s Tommy and Joseph, who giggle in the old office room to one another as they talk about the airplane they’ll have to paint together when they get home. There’s Beth, who’s taking a well deserved break away from her two rambunctious boys as she washes herself in the shower. 

Then, there’s you and Simon. 

A hazy penumbra obscures your vision as you lay next to him. There was no question about it when you both crawled into bed—there will be no separation between the two of you tonight. You curl beneath covers with his arm wrapped around you and an ear pressed against his chest as you listen to the proof of his existence. He is the most tangible thing you’ve ever had hold you, and despite his ruggedness and scars, he is also one of the softest. The kindest. Something that can embrace you without pins and needles nettling your skin. 

Chest expanding, you breathe him in. You want to bottle up his scent and carry it around with you. It’s vague. Comforting. Natural. 

You hate cologne. 

“Thanks for comin’ with me,” Simon says softly, breaking the fragile silence hanging in the air. 

“Of course.” You pause, chewing on the tip of your tongue as you try to get the second half of your response out. “Thank you. For bringing me here. I don’t think I’ve… you know. Just- Thank you. I’m glad I came.” 

It’s impossible to tell if you’re hearing things wrong, but you swear Simon’s heart beats faster. It thumps in his chest like a war drum attempting to play a love song. It’s flimsy. Unpracticed with novice rhythm. Still, it only grows stronger as his head lifts from his pillow, neck curling forward as a strong arm holds you tight. 

His lips press against the crown of your head, lingering just long enough for your own pulse to drown his out. 

“Me too, sweetheart.”

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[naturistgirl]

NAKED SNOW WALKING AND THE BIRCH MOON

The first new moon after the Winter Solstice has various names. Some call it the Ice Moon, others the Snow Moon. Here in the High Pennines the snow has been plentiful and deep. The weather feels exceptionally icy. Here in the Britain however it is rarely ever far below freezing. We have a mild climate compared to say, Continental Europe or the Northern States. It's a great time for naturism!

We headed up to the Wild Wood on January 6th. It was an invigorating walk, uphill. We walked briskly, we had to! Walking clothes free when it is this cold is a very different experience to textile walking. In the depths of Winter, people tend to layer and muffle up. True, all those clothes DO keep you warm when sedentary; layers trap body heat. However, as you exercise, particularly when walking briskly, things are very different. Muffled up in layers, you rapidly slow down as you overheat, carrying the burden of heavy clothing. Naked, you walk briskly, unencumbered by the weight of clothes. You don't want to stop or slow down and your naked body soon acclimatises to the cold. Stepping out and climbing the hill to the wood felt refreshing, invigorating and ever so free!

The wild, wooded hills around here were once heavily mined for coal and yellow clay to make bricks. The industry left its scars for a while, even after it had gone. Nature will always reassert itself and soon, woodland returned. The countryside began to recover. One of the first trees to regenerate is birch. The Wild Wood has older trees, mainly oak, but around it's fringes, birch and alder predominate. On snowy days like this, the silvery bark of birch shines like a beacon. It isn't a long lived tree. The soil is thin and rocky here. Birch often succumbs to the ravages of winter storms. Birch has a more human life span than other trees; 80 would be a good age for a mature specimen. This tree is nonetheless a hardwood and has long been used for all manner of beneficial things.

Birch, being the first tree to grow back after devastation, has a connection to birth and new life. Baby's cradles were made from birch wood and the tree is deeply associated with fertility, renewal and re-birth. Birch twigs make good broomsticks, perfect for a clean sweep of your house at the start of the year. Cattle were herded with a bunch of birch twigs which was also thought to ensure fertility. When birch grows again in Spring, its delicate pale green leaves are heart shaped. The sap of the birch tree is also used to make a delightful wine. Britain's Queen Victoria was said to have been very fond of it!

We made our way to the very summit of the Wild Wood. Here, the woodland is denser and criss-crossed by little paths. Holly shines green and glossy amid the larger trees. There are also larch, oak, ash and sycamore. Out on the sheep pasture beyond, sheep were scraping at the snow, searching for grass. We walked the wood but saw nobody. There was only one other set of prints on the previous night's snow. We stopped to take the photographs which we have shared in this blog. Thank you to Mart, my loving husband for these. He adores naturism every bit as much as me.

The ground temperature was low and I was glad of my pink wellingtons with two layers of socks. My green wool beanie (thank you sheep) was a must; most of the heat you lose is from your head. We hope you find our photographs inspiring.

It would be lovely to see other's photographs of their own naked snow hikes. We look forward to seeing your posts. Tumblr has way too many endlessly recycled photos of naked young women on summer beaches! Give it a rest. The promotion of naturism needs contemporary photos of yourselves, enjoying your local environment as nature intended. why not write as well, describing what you do. Non-sexual nudity should, and does represent, all manner of body shapes and types. You are never too old to walk naked. You were born this way.

We receive lots of messages of affirmation from likeminded naturists. Thank you so much. I also receive some flattering yet less suitable comments and requests from others who are; how shall I put it? - not exactly passionate about naturism, more about sexy naked ladies! Let's face it, who isn't? Sex is great and I love it. It isn't however the focus of this blog.

My purpose in writing this, is to inspire you to your own naturist activities. So while it is gratifying to have you send photos of one tiny part of yourself, please don't. Most of these messages come from Tumblrs who follow hundreds of others yet are entirely empty with no avatars. Sadly, I have come to realise that these accounts are best blocked, no offence. We do welcome messages of support however as well as photographs of your own naturist jaunts and hikes. So if you want to follow me and have me follow back, post an avatar which is actually you and some real pictures of yourself in your blog. Message and tell me what motivates you to naturism! OK?

Stay naked!

Jane xx

[adventuresofalgy]

After his amazing Hogmanay Hootenanny had finally drawn to a close, Algy slept for many, many hours, and when he awoke he found that all his party guests had vanished, no doubt returning to the many magical places around the world from which they had come.

Feeling that he needed a wee bit of fresh air and exercise after such extensive partying, Algy flew around his assistants' garden several times. But he found that it was unpleasantly cold… It was early January, after all; the ponds were covered with thin sheets of ice, and the garden was hushed and quiet.

Suddenly, the sun burst through the wintry clouds, and although it was still exceedingly low in the sky, only just managing to clear the rocky ridges of the surrounding hills, parts of the garden were bathed in a beautiful golden light… at least for a few minutes, for the sun could evidently feel the chill too, and soon retreated to warmer climes.

It was glorious while it lasted, however, so Algy found himself a perch on a sunlit tree stump and indulged in a harmonious duet with a wee robin friend nearby, until the light faded into greyness once again. And while the two fluffy birds sang in wordless harmony, Algy took deep gulps of the January air and thought:

Something’s moving in, I hear the weather in the wind, sense the tension of a sheep-field and the pilgrimage of fins. Something’s not the same, I taste the sap and feel the grain, hear the rolling of the rowan ringing, singing in a change. Something’s set to start, there’s meadow-music in the dark and the clouds that shroud the mountain slowly, softly start to part.

[Algy is thinking of A Poem for the New Year by the contemporary English poet Matt Goodfellow.]

[v-era-18]

MASTERLIST

Red Licorice - Scream x Black!Reader

Prologue: Dumb Blonde Chapter One: Red and Blue Lights Chapter Two: Death Calling Chapter Three: A Dead Girl's Diary Chapter Four: Apparition Chapter Five: Black Sheep Chapter Six: Behind The Mask Chapter Seven: Buttered Popcorn Chapter Eight: Storm Incoming Chapter Nine: Bloody Press Chapter Ten: Old Tapes and Melted Ice Cream Chapter Eleven: Black Widow Chapter Twelve: House Party Chapter Thirteen: No Sequel Chapter Thirteen: PT2

HoneyBee Transformers - Bumblebee x Black!Reader

Prologue: Bittersweet Chapter One: Three Wheels Not Four Chapter Two: Chased or Chase Chapter Three: Storyteller Chapter Four: Book Of Stars Chapter Five: Respect Chapter Six: Thin Patience Chapter Seven: Sleep Talk Chapter Eight: Needing a Hero

Earth's Armor - Melidolas x Black!Reader

Prologue: Fabric and Ale

*New year new me. I'm gonna do better with posting and organizing this page! I hope you guys enjoy it!

[edgeray]

Peruere is a Person.

Inspired by my blurb series, "Arlecchino is a Person."

A/N - I did not write this. This was written by my wonderful friend @myfriendscallmebun. However, she didn't want to post it on her blog, so I'm posting it for her. All I did was some minor editing a little bit but almost every single word (minus like 2 or 3 words) was written by her. Every single like, comment, or reblog on this post is for her. I claim no ownership over this piece.

Arlecchino is not a person.

The Knave, Arlecchino, Father of the House of the Hearth, Fourth of the Eleven Fatui Harbingers is not a person: she is a personification of lies and deceit spread amongst the populace, a conglomeration of exaggerated half-truths spread by veteran Fatui to scare the new recruits. Made of misconceptions and inferred information that paints a picture of a crazed and ruthless assassin–a wolf in sheep's clothing in essence; a bloodthirsty and manipulative patriarch whose tongue draws as much blood as the blade she so rarely uses. 

She’s a woman whose title alone carries a reputation that paralyzes opponents who catch just a whisper of her name. A woman whose flames scorch at the heels of those who were frozen in place by her ice cold presence alone. Arlecchino is a name that has people moving aside to let her pass by, a name that mothers hear and pull their children back into the houses from. She’s everything they say: a boogeyman–an icy breath you feel down your neck in your last waking moments, the shadows lurking around corners when you least expect; the thin veneer of an aloof diplomat that barely conceals the true mania beneath its surface. Arlecchino is at once everything she is made out to be, and nothing at all. Because Arlecchino is not a person, nor has she ever been.

Peruere is a person. She’s a woman, about 30 years old and 5’7”, although you wouldn’t realize it because she’s always wearing heels. She’s a woman who took on a title and responsibility far too young, a woman who was thrust into adulthood and the brutal world of the Fatui too early. She’s a woman who keeps few friends, and keeps her own children at an arm's length. She’s someone who has seen those around her–friend, ally, foe, and bystanders–be scorched and burned away to ash by her own hands. 

She’s someone who keeps her kids on a tight leash and strict discipline regiment, but the leash she keeps on herself is tighter. She allows her children to reprieve from the rules every now and then–turning a blind eye when they take a cookie before dinner, allowing them to keep a lizard they found as a pet for a while–but she does not afford herself the same. She’s harsh on herself, keeping every moment of her day regimented and as strict as the schedule she had growing up. Her children will live and experience far better than what she had, but she will still silently carry the burden of that time with her. 

Peruere is a person who is willing to look Dottore in the eyes–a man who she has watched take away what remaining, broken and mangled siblings she had, and knew full well what would be happening to them once they left with him- she is willing to look him in the eyes and allow him to experiment with her, with the balemoon bloodfire that curses her veins, on the hope that something good may come of it, something that can help her children.

She’s a woman who loves her kids, no matter how she can’t seem to show it. She’s a woman whose affection lies in the unspoken words behind what she actually says. 

“You’re home late.” (“I was worried about you.”) 

“Impulsiveness leads to failure.” (“I don’t want to see you get hurt.”)

“Your defense was weak, I know I’ve taught you better.” (“I cannot bear to lose another child out in the field. Please.”) 

Peruere is a woman who in some deep, dark part of her chest that she doesn’t like to acknowledge, allows herself to yearn for normality. She stares out her windows at the crowds of pedestrians and citizens making their way through the streets of Fontaine, “People-watching is a rather pleasant activity, in my opinion.” (“I would join them, if they would allow me.”) 

Peruere is a person who allows others to dictate what she should be–she allows the rumors and misconceptions to run freely amongst those who dare utter her name, even adding fuel to the metaphorical fire by being sure to live up to the reputation others have created for her. She allows her image to be muddy, full of contradictions and mistruths, and more than some mixing-ins of her predecessor. “It’s beneficial,” she says. (“It’s easier to be what people expect you to be, than to be yourself.”) 

Peruere is a person, even despite her best attempts to hide it.

[specialagentartemis]

@thefoxthief said in response to this post:

I have a question. I vaguely remember learning in an anthro class that there is little/poor evidence of mammoth hunting and most likely the bones used to built huts were collected from already dead mammoths. Teach me.

Pretty much accurate! Mostly, Ice Age people didn’t hunt mammoths, but it varied by region. It was very rare in most of Europe, a little more common in the Russian steppes, and a surprisingly regular occurrence in southwestern North America.

For the most part, in the Ice Age, people hunted animals like deer, caribou, wild sheep/goats, and wild horses (which were the size of modern ponies mostly). That was the size that it seems people preferred—that’s a lot of meat, but like, that’s a manageable-sized animal. The hide is thin and the vital organs are within a spear’s range and also it will have a much harder time trampling you to death if you miss. Killing and butchering a mammoth with stone and bone tools would have been possible, but very difficult and energy consuming (archaeologists LOVE doing experimental archaeology by taking stone tool replicas to the bodies of dead zoo elephants). Generally the belief is that bones from the mammoth bone huts of Ukraine and Russia were scavenged from dead animals—still no small feat, but the mammoths weren’t regularly hunted for them.

As my archaeology professor likes to describe it, hunting a mammoth is something that you might do once and then brag about for the rest of your life. It isn’t unheard of, but it was definitely rare.

… except in the US Southwest and the northern half of Mexico where there seem to be a bunch of really dramatic mammoth kill sites (and gomphotheres, another Ice Age elephant-like animal). The Naco Mammoth Kill Site and El Fin del Mundo site are particularly striking but there are several known ones in southern Arizona/northern Mexico. Those people were hunting mammoths 11-13,000 years ago for whatever reason!

However my story is set around the Black Sea 30,000 years ago, and hunting mammoths was rare and definitely not preferred. And important worldbuilding context is that the clan spends its winters upriver on the steppes to meet the caribou herds migrating south for the winter… but this winter has been harsh, with early freezes and cold winds (and advancing glaciers because we are slowly approaching the Last Glacial Maximum, though they don’t know that), and the normal caribou herds… aren’t here. The clan’s normal winter food source is nowhere to be found. And they are deeply DEEPLY concerned and also starving.

So when the herd of mammoths pass through, this isn’t business as usual, it’s a climactic move of desperation to try to take down a whole damn mammoth to save them all.

[fairybabyshifting]

i can't wait to start shifting regularly. i'll come back here and report it all like i'm the host of a dying talk show no one asked for. just me, sleep-deprived (probably), and vaguely over it, reporting live from a collapsing dreamscape. silky haired reporters, thin lipped and joyous at the chance to shove their microphones in my face (the audacity). everyone wants to know what hogwarts smells like in winter, whether our private jet has a shower, is carlos sainz' hair really that luscious and flamboyant in real life. it is. obviously.

and i'll exploit it all. i'll tell them how my family is filthy rich. my father's not only the ceo, but also the team principal of mercedes. which sounds impressive, until you meet him. (he's wonderful, i swear.) my boyfriend drives for the ops, dad doesn't approve of course (forbidden romance and all that). it's a conflict of interest, he says. i say it's not that deep. i tell him, but daddy i love him! (thank you, taylor swift). but i’m just being dramatic. it's not even forbidden, not really. just…frowned upon. a few glares across the paddock. some whispers rolling through the media. front page news of the sun. no big deal. i give them something to talk about, so they talk. like moths to a flame. or sheep, following sheep. paddock princess sparks internal meltdown at mercedes after being seen cozying up to rival driver. that’s the headline they went with. yawn. i could’ve written something better in my sleep. at least make it juicy. “she’s got her legs around him and her teeth in mercedes —paddock princess accused of sabotaging father’s team for opposition’s star boytoy.” see? much juicier.

dad thinks i'll leak something to him. my boyfriend, the op. like the tyre strategy. or why our downforce is mysteriously higher. (spoiler: it's a new floor design. my idea, actually. not that anyone listened at the time. but sure, now it's revolutionary. whatever. and no dad, i didn't tell my boyfriend. maybe i hinted. not my fault that he's smart and figured it out.)

anyway. i sit down, ask for an iced latte. no, make it a matcha actually. extra strong. no i don't want extra ice, thank you. and then i stare into the thin-lipped, silky haired press pit like i've already lived ten lives in ten realities. my DR life? it's not just a forbidden romance. it's a soft launch into chaos. think romeo and juliet. but with better lighting, better PR, and no death. and eventually, yes —our families applaud at the wedding.

[demonic0angel]

(Prompt: Clockwork gave Danny, Jazz and Jason a mission: Capture the Four Perils and bring them back to Ghost Zone)

"Hundun, Qiongqi, Taowu, and Taotie," Jazz said as she, Danny and Jason were looking at the cave. "the Four Perils. These creatures were said to be the ghosts of the four ancient criminals namely Huandou, Gun, Gonggong, and Sanmiao. You may knows Sanmiao is identified with Chiyou, a bull warrior that rebels against the Jade Emperor."

"There was a guy named Gun?" Danny asked.

"Yes, but his name is just means big fish in Chinese..." Jazz explained.

"So what're these creatures actually looked like?" Jason asked.

"Hundun is a yellow winged creature of chaos with six legs and no face, Qiongqi is monstrous tiger with wings that eats people, Taowu a reckless and stubborn tiger-like creature with boar teeth and human-like face, and Taotie is gluttonous... sheep and boar hybrid?" Jazz replied. "That's all the informations Clockwork gave to me."

"Ok, so now we've to those catch these guys, right?"

(An odd choice of capture targets but aight lmao)

“Yep,” Danny said. “Easy peezy.”

“You’re going to jinx us,” Jazz scolded, and Danny obliged her worries by knocking on the cave wall in place of wood.

But it was too late.

They hadn’t even needed to look for the Qiongqi. The moment the three of them had stepped out of the cave with intentions to go into the city to continue their search, the tiger-like monster immediately swooped in and tried to eat their faces off.

“Oh! I forgot that it bites off the noses of noble and righteous people!” Jazz recalled, and Jason immediately grabbed her and pulled her down as the beast lunged at them.

“Thanks for the info, Princess, but we’re in the middle of something?! Stop getting distracted and catch the damn thing!”

So while Jazz and Jason were fighting off the Qiongqi, Danny ran off to capture the Taowu, which was trying in vain to fight the cars in the middle of a street, blocking an intersection with its body as people screamed and ran away from it. Seeming to think that the screams were cheers, the Taowu preened and was even more enthusiastic in trying to kill the cars as Danny dodged its chaotic moves to try and catch it.

The Taotie was slightly more difficult to find after the three of them struggled to capture the first two. It had been found inside of a restaurant, hiding within the freezer and eating everything in sight, even the metal walls. It took a few days before anyone found it and reported it.

Finally, the three of them only needed to find the Hundun. It took a long, long time, almost a week before they found the faceless creature helping the Joker in a new plan to torment everyone in Gotham. It was quickly solved with some ghostly technology, but by the end, Jason’s eye was twitching and Danny looked like he was about to wring the necks of anyone who was about to approach him.

Clockwork watched them with a small smile on his face as they all trudged up the steps to his lair.

“You found them?” He asked, his form shifting.

“If you weren’t Jazz and Danny’s grandpa, I’d tell you to fuck yourself,” Jason hissed as he tossed the special container that held all Four Perils to Clockwork. Clockwork caught it and chuckled.

“But you got to spend time with Jazz, right? It’s not all bad.”

Danny growled, crossing his arms, “It was bad for me. You’re on thin ice, old man.”

“Maybe next time, I’ll send you on a mission with—”

“SHUT!!”

[autumnmist101]

Random Individual Hermit Head-cannons

Xisuma: Voidwalker

Keeps pictures of his favorite moments from each of the hermits' first seasons.

Void searched for Pearl and Jimmy specifically. Did this right after Grian explained his backstory and that he didn’t know if his siblings were alive.

Adopted both Mumbo and False in season two, but at separate times. They don't talk about it much though. ______________________________________________________________

VintageBeef: Cow hybrid

Makes the best deviled eggs anyone has ever tasted. ______________________________________________________________

Mumbo: Had a phase where he was a bunny hybrid (have a shpeel about it but that's too long for this post)

Would wear a fake mustache when he was too young to grow one. (The others found it adorable)

Second person to find out about Grian's backstory ______________________________________________________________

Gem: Hybrid forms: Tropical fish/sea creature, Fox, Deer, Elf

Confronted/nearly killed Scott during an Empires' meeting after hearing that he abandoned Pearl in DL.

Can't use chopsticks. Makes them shish-kabob sticks instead.

Loves ice-skating dates (platonic) with Pearl.

If she can't plays at least one T-Swift song on a road trip. Then she's the only artist the car gets to listen to when heading back home.

Protective as heck when she finds out someone's sick. (Nurse mod Gem activates)

Harder punches mean more love, and Gem is, according to many, a 'very affectionate' hermit. >:D

Twin of Fwhip, sister of Sausage. ______________________________________________________________

Bdubs: Hybrids- Bug, Glare, Horse

Can NOT have energy drink. Will be constantly building, and answering anything via screaming. Not to mention, won't be able to shreep. ______________________________________________________________

Scar: Hybrid forms: Vex and Cat.

Has a chewing necklace he loses constantly

An amazing cook despite the kitchen being on fire.

Has wheelchair and cane accessories from his friends. ie. wheelchair handle spikes from Gem, heated Star Wars themed cane handle from Grian.

Bursts into Disney songs at ANY reference he hears.

Jellie trained Katy Bee to carry a mini first aid box on her collar for Scar. ______________________________________________________________

Tango: Blaze-born

Raised by phoenixes.

Left home to be on his own. The portal he took to the overworld put him in a snow biome. Nearly froze before Zedaph found him.

Can actually hover, but usually forgets about the ability.

When needing in a tight space, will create a whisp of fire that he will then possess to fly into that space.

Cried for at least an hour whenever a Ravager died in DO2.

Freaked out when Pearl first tried to eat a red-stone torch and immediately taught her red-stone safety, as well as started using it. (Wants to be a good influence <3)

Still believes in Santa

Can play just about anything on kazoo.

Will NOT play Star Wars or Disney songs on the kazoo. ______________________________________________________________

Zedaph: Sheep hybrid.

Big Chappell Roan fan

Sunburns easily

Kicked out of a cult of lambs due to constantly calling the god they worshipped "Waiter" instead of "The one who waits".

Found Tango half frozen on a mountain. ______________________________________________________________

Impulse: Cast out from the nether realm for befriending too many humans.

Organizer of the Hermit Parent Club. Usually plans out field trips, pun offs, and when it's bring your kid to the server day.

Still has his first soup bowl of season 9.

Was standing right beside the cactus Skizz fell in when he was kicked out of heaven.

Helping Skizz out- "I'm an imp. My name's Impulse. What's your name, man?" ______________________________________________________________

Skizz: When meeting Impulse- "Mine's Skizzleman! I'm an Angel!"

Knew Impulse would be his best friend after that moment.

Can do a great Doodlebob impression

Cast out of heaven for being bad at making things. Not just alive things. All things.

The last straw for them was when he tried to make a Tasmanian devil. He did not know what a Tasmanian devil was. . . . He still does not know what a Tasmanian devil is.

When cast out was purposely thrown onto a cactus where he was found by Impulse. (They really didn't like his last creation) ______________________________________________________________

Joel: Hybrid forms- Wolf, Red Panda

Definitely NOT nervous around needles. Only babies, and Jimmy, are nervous around those.

Wears his Mazelean crown when he misses his friends in empires.

Constantly writes to Lizzie in whatever server she's on. Also keeps a small bottle of her perfume on his bedside table.

Can feel when another Life game is coming. (Sixth sense almost)

Has a dart board with Scott's face on it that he, and sometimes Pearl, use to prepare for the next games.

NOT scared of giant birds or any birds for that matter. That's for losers. And DIDN'T scream when he first saw Jimmy's canary wings. ______________________________________________________________

False: Eagle avian

Enjoys hunting rabbits/Joel in her free time.

Teases Mumbo about his crush on Hot Guy.

Has won countless rap battles

Can, in fact, smell fear ______________________________________________________________

Etho: Sings Barbie girl in the shower

Carries tools on him at all times

Keeps a Big Bro <3 bracelet from Gem in his vest pocket ______________________________________________________________

That's all for now. I have others; however, they were too long to be included in this post. I do intend to expand/story-fy a couple of these ones though, hopefully in the near future. Anyways, hope you enjoyed! <3

[slytherizz]

Playing God - Auror!Sebastian x Dark!MC

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Non-Con | explicit sexual content | Dark!MC | Polyjuice Sex

All tags can be found on Ao3

Word count: 6.4k

Summary: Decorated Auror, Sebastian Sallow had not anticipated how his life would diverge so sharply from the woman he once loved, the most wanted and notorious witch in Britain. Or how their paths would continue to cross - their fates still bound together.

A/N This fic has been living in my WIPs for about 6 months...I wanted to reverse the dynamic of my longer fic with Sebastian being the Auror this time and in doing such explore some darker themes. Short multi-chapter that will probably end up being three chapters at most.

She was pretty enough he supposed in a homely sort of way. 

Petite, with neat shoulder-length hair that brushed against narrow shoulders and, a soft bow to her overly thin top lip. But her dress was old-fashioned, a severe high-neck buttoned almost to her chin, ruffled layers of her underskirts impractical and lumpy. Layers upon layers, of an unflattering shade of yellow washed out her otherwise pleasant features. 

Compared to the other witches that would frequent such a seedy establishment with their low necklines and light skirts, she would be considered dowdy. 

If it wasn't for her eyes. Keen and alert as if beneath the sheep-like exterior lurked something dangerous. He most likely would have overlooked her too.

To even the keenest observer it wouldn't look like Sebastian had any particular tastes when it came to women or men. Much to his displeasure, the qualities that drew him in were rarely mere aesthetic. 

Barked laughter like an ill-tempered hound. The smell of mallowsweet. Aromatic and earthy. Teeth pressed lightly into a bottom lip like they held all the cards in a game no one else knew they were playing. Until they spread the winning hand. Smile so wide it unnerved, bore too many teeth.

Tonight, it was keen and dangerous eyes that reminded him of her. 

They shared no other similarities and from what Sebastian could discern from her well-manicured nails, and unblemished skin, bar a pale line around her finger where he supposed an engagement ring would usually sit - this was no fighter. 

This was a proper young lady - who had wandered onto the wrong side of town looking for a sensible amount of trouble as her wedding day, most likely to some equally wellbred suitor, loomed over her like a dark cloud.

As if Sebastian were screaming his thoughts at her across the crowded tavern, those sharp eyes flicked their attention to him. Raked over the thinning patches of his civilian cloak, the shadow across his jaw, the dark circles under his eyes he'd given up glamouring. After years they were as much a staple of his face as the freckles on his nose. 

The marks of a man who hadn't enough time to shave let alone visit a tailor, a man who would scarcely have enough time to ask her too many intrusive questions. 

She smiled. Jarring was the only way Sebastian could describe how her face seemed to split horizontally across its centre. Neither half quite belonged to the other. The demure and polite curl of her lips was offset by the razor-edged scrutiny of her darkened gaze. Predatory. Hungry. In a way that made his mouth go dry and cool sweat beads on the back of his neck.

Ice clinked against the side of his glass as Sebastian knocked back the remaining dregs of whiskey. Disguising the way his lip twitched at the corners under the weight of her eyes. Amber liquid burned his throat was nothing compared to the heat prickling across his skin.

Sebastian held up two fingers to indicate to the Barmaid over the raucous patrons of the pub. She placed a second glass on the bar filling them both with a more than generous pour. 

"Cheers," Sebastian said, placing the coins into her hand, a little extra for her trouble as he always did. The barmaid smiled brightly, flushed and preening, over a few extra sickles as if he'd declared some great love for her. Though he supposed generosity was not a trait of many that frequented the Ogre's Arms. She leaned a little further over the bar than was strictly necessary, her fingers linger too long against his palm as he hands over his sickles. 

Sebastian did not miss the way that the strangers' eyes tracked the interaction. As swift and deliberately as he had been trained to be with every motion, he slipped his hand from the barmaid's grasp deftly hooking his fingers into the rim of the grotesquely full tumblers as he spun on his heels.

Whatever the poor girl had been about to say faltered in her throat. Crackling out of life like a dying gramophone. He really should have felt some sympathy for the poor girl. 

She'd made her fondness for him quite obvious over the years. Despite how Sebastian would sidle out the door with what must seem like any witch but her. Too worried about any kind of arrangement that would ask for more than he was willing, or able, to give. Nor did he wish to find a new hole to drown himself in. 

And regretfully - her gentle honeyed voice and hopeful doe eyes that delivered longing glances had never stirred anything inside of Sebastian. As much as on some nights he wished they would. 

Sebastian weaved through the sparse gathering around the bar of the more rambunctious patrons. Turning a blind eye, to the corner booth and the two witches poorly disguising their face under their dramatic hoods, exchanging money, a rather suspicious-looking sack at their feet which gave a periodic shudder and what looked like spines protruding from the burlap. It may be his job to investigate suspicious behaviour such as this but- he'd rather not have to explain to his sergeant exactly what he was doing in this pub in the first place.

Approaching her solitary table nestled in the corner, she inclined her chin up towards him. Smug. Sloped oak beams cast a thick shadow, and candlelight flickering against her cheekbones made her features waxy like an oil painting against a grimy canvas. 

"May I?"

She tilted her head, as though she expected nothing else but was amused by his gesture nonetheless."Only because you brought a bribe." 

Sebastian hooked the heel of his boot around the chair leg pulling out further. Placed the two glasses on the table as he sat, careful not to spill any against the oak surface. Not that it would be such a shame if it did. Cheap whiskey from a smudged glass was hardly a waste. 

Sebastian tipped his glass to her in toast, she did not feign even the slightest interest in her glass or his hollow act of chivalry. 

"I haven't seen you here before," Sebastian said. 

Flexing her fingers, she admired those well-polished nails. "No. I don't suppose you would have."

West Country. Quaint. As out of place amongst the sea of London accents as her dress was from this decade. Confirming a very important fact for Sebastian she was certainly not from around here. For the best. 

"This doesn't seem like the place for such a nice young lady such as yourself."

Chin resting on the back of her delicate hand. A feline grin spread across her face, as she lowered her voice conspiratorially. "Nor the place for well respected Ministry men." 

Tension seized Sebastian's shoulders. Unnerved by her perception, his eyes darted across the sea of faces. He'd left the scarlet cloak with the gold badge adorning his lapels in his flat long before he'd made apparated to the bottom of Knockturn Alley. Places like these didn't take too kindly to rozzers scrambling their clientele. Nor would he want it to become common knowledge at the Ministry that he frequented grimy drinking holes on his off hours. He was certain she'd been alone but that prickle of unease had his hand reaching towards his wand.  

She caught his arm swiftly, delicate fingers folded up the cuff of his cloak. Ministry insignia branded into the tan leather strap that secured his wand to his forearm. 

Chuckling breathily to himself, Sebastian felt the tension ebb as, just as swiftly, she turned down the sleeve. "Half the people here carry their wand tucked up their sleeve. You have a keen eye, to have spotted that mark from halfway across the room, lass. Do you make it a habit of checking if every man who approaches you is an Auror?"

Sharp eyes glinted with mischief. "Only the ones that interest me."

"Must be my lucky day." He leaned in closer, bitter whiskey breath disturbed a loose curl around her ear as he whispered. "Unless there's a reason you have to be on such high alert for authority I should know about?"

"Do I look like the kind of woman who would have much trouble with the law?"

He cast his eyes down, at her unblemished hands. Free of callouses and scar tissue, the tight restrictiveness of her bodice ill-suited for battle, her polite disarming smile - even those eyes, so reminiscent but not quite right. Despising the remorseful pang in his chest. Nothing like her. 

"Well if that's the case this," he gestured around the damp crooked hole masquerading as a tavern. "Certainly isn't the place for you." 

"Nor you. Unless the requirements for holding such an esteemed post has gone severely downhill and they let swindlers and murderers into their ranks." He almost winced at the sting of the insult she unwittingly delivered. 

"Perhaps lurking around in dingey bars with terrible whiskey isn't suited to either of us. Perhaps, upstanding members of society that we are, should go somewhere we can feel more…relaxed."

"And where exactly is there such a place for me?" Most women would have covered that glaring tan line on her finger, under gloved hands or glamour, but she seemed to flaunt it as she ghosted it across his knuckles;  an invitation.

Sebastian's grin widened. "I have a few ideas."

"I don't have much time. So you better make every minute count."

***

Sebastian unlocked his front door with a snap of his fingers. Gestured her inside, his hand pressed into the small of her back. She inclined her head towards him, a smirk playing on her lips at the hollow politeness of his gesture. Knowing full well his intention of inviting her back to his flat was far from gentlemanly. 

Exaggerated skirts shifted as she stepped inside. Soft lamp lights scattered around his living room sparked to life in welcome illuminating the small living area. Her formal attire looked out of place; more suited for high tea than the sparsely filled space Sebastian inhabited. 

Files strewn across the long velvet settee, scattered teacups and candles burned down to the wick littered every available surface. He knew the larder would be just as barren save for some tea bags and a half-empty bottle of gin the department had cobbled together to purchase for his promotion. He didn't even like gin. The presence of female company always seemed to highlight just how every inch of his flat screamed bachelor.  

Sebastian shrugged off his cloak, hooking it on the back of the door. Never once taking his eyes off her. Odd little creature that she was. Against the faint moonlight that trickled in from the arched window on the far wall, her face cloaked in darkness, she cast a dramatic silhouette. 

Not quite her. No. But her dress despite its bulk could not disguise the dip of her waist, an alluring swell to her chest. With her face masked from view, he felt his drink-fogged mind teeter dangerously on an edge he would not let it wander past. 

She'd bent down, and pinched the corner of a piece of parchment he'd discarded the previous night between her thumb and forefinger. Sebastian slipped his wand from the holster. With a flick, the paper pried itself free to rejoin the rest which were shuffling themselves back into their file before shooting across the room into the waiting drawer of his bureau. The gold lock clicked shut, locking them securely away with an audible snap. 

Her head whipped around, her chin jutted out in irritation, and her eyes narrowed slightly into a glare. Sebastian shrugged, as he unbuckled the holster on his arm, placing it on the narrow kitchen island. "Classified information. I'm sure you understand."  

Sebastian couldn't have nosy witches trawling through his case files. He'd seen plenty of Aurors sacked for lesser sins. And reporters from the Prophet certainly weren't above seduction tactics to get their stories. That knowledge did nothing however to stop the tingle that spread down his spine that the defiant look in her eye ignited in him. 

"I suppose." She shrugged, a forced display of indifference. Before proceeding to further inspect his residence. Striding about like she owned the place and Sebastian was merely some troublesome tenant. 

The cramped flat he'd started renting in London straight out of Hogwarts could hardly be considered a home. Sebastian never planned to make it one. Or stay for as long as he did. Merely a stepping stone, at the start of his career. Close to the Ministry, so he could collapse after a long day. 

Eat. Sleep. Breath. Work. 

That desperate desire to prove himself more than what he'd been. Never satisfied with his lot in life. By the grace of Merlin, he'd been given a second chance to make himself a man - his parents, his sister, that he could be proud of. 

He had planned to settle down eventually. Fix the decaying bones of his parents' old house on the hill with her by his side. Both were now a faded, hopeless dream. Sebastian's life had rarely gone to plan.

Tracing a finger across the well-worn spines on his overstuffed bookshelf she pondered each title with interest. "Quite the collection you have. Some rather questionable titles you have here for a man of your profession."

"Special Ministry approval. They're charmed to be bound to my place of residence - before you get any ideas. Can never be too prepared in my line of work. Knowledge of magic of a more…delicate nature can be the difference between life and death."

Strictly speaking, this was not a lie. Any Auror worth his salt would have at least half the books in Sebastian's collection on curse-breaking, dark magic and deadly creatures. Admittedly, his robust library wasn't necessary for his career nor was all of it purely academic interest. 

Eyewitness accounts of skinwalkers he'd picked up on a short trip to America, liaising with the MACUSA on their rising troll problem. Journals, written in the maddening scrawl of a witch who'd fancied herself a revolutionary scholar. Wanted to test the corruption dark magic had on the soul. Daft bugger used herself to test her theories. Now all that was left of her was crammed into a bachelor's bookcase.

Smallest in number and size, a thin collection of children's stories and a letter correspondence from crackpot conspiracists. He'd been too late to salvage anything that remained of Miriam Fig's research and this pitiful array was all that he'd discovered over the years with any reference to Ancient Magic. A small house fire could destroy what Sebastian could only assume was the largest collated materials on the subject.

It had been foolish to try to love her, but perhaps more still to hunt the vengeful wraith. 

"Well read. Good career. Seems you are a rather eligible bachelor-"

Sebastian smiled moving closer towards her. "I'm not bad to look at either."

"Despite your proclivity for skulking around dingey bars. It's unusual to find a man such as yourself…unattached."

"What can I say - I'm married to my work. Not much time for anything else; not many witches would put up with the lifestyle long-term. Never been interested in marriage." 

Liar. 

She looked up at him through dark lashes, from how those sharp eyes stripped him back until he was raw and exposed - she scented his dishonesty. "Sounds like a lonely life." 

"Depends on who you ask."

Sebastian leaned heavily on the shelf above her head, elbow brushing against well-loved spines. His calloused palm slipped around her waist, running up her side. Felt the curved bones of her corset under his thumb. Leaning in closer still, enough that his breath disturbed the loose curls around her temples. Her lips parted, tongue dancing along her bottom lip as she tilted her chin up towards him like a cat basking in a warm breeze. 

She didn't waiver. Not a single flicker of hesitation in those sharp, piercing eyes. For a moment, Sebastian pitied the man who intended to marry her. But not enough to stop him from capturing her lips. 

Tasting the tang of cheap whiskey in their mingled breath. Not a slither of remorse as her delicate hands found the nape of Sebastian's neck. Used chestnut curls to pull him closer to kiss him more deeply. Their breath was little more than stolen gasps for air and an opportunity for her tongue to seize and slip past parted lips. 

Sebastian crowded her further against the bookshelf. Held tighter to the bunched fabric of her skirts, hands fumbling desperately to feel the shape it disguised. Frustrated by the garment, his lips left her mouth. Travelled down to her jaw, her breathing hitched, head tipped back to thunk against the shelf as Sebastian nipped and sucked at the column of her throat. A little too sharply. But she only pressed into him further. Blood and bruises bloomed wild across her skin as his teeth grazed along her heightened pulse. 

He knew what it was like to try to ensnare creatures such as this. How they bit when cornered. Fool that he was, he desired to tame them, change their nature; almost as much as he craved to be bitten.

Maybe that was why he held her so firmly in his grasp. Petticoats balled in his fists, as he pressed himself awkwardly against her. Her dainty form didn't quite fit the stocky mould of his own. 

Not that anyone witch or woman had since. 

Not that she seemed to care. She pulled Sebastian in like he alone was hers to drink from. Like he belonged to her and she would bend and break him to fit her. Some part of him prayed she succeeded. He'd snap every bone in his body, boil down his sinew in the hope that when at last he healed - he would fit another. 

Sebastian pressed his mouth into the crook of her shoulder and burrowed his face, inhaling deeply, as he mouthed at her skin. Soft and supple as an over-ripe peach. Desperately, pathetically trying and failing to make himself fit. But the bridge of his nose bumped harshly against her clavicle and his back ached from stooping. 

He'd never melted into anyone since her. No matter how many times he tried with countless trysts with all the ways they reminded him of her in their laughs, smiles, and eyes - they were not her.

Pained groan against her shoulder. Cloth ripped as he tore past her outdated petticoats and the silk of her undergarments. Desperate hands kneaded at her bare flesh. Thigh. Hip. The curve of her arse. Every inch of her skin grew hot, flushed under his touch. If Sebastian had been in his right mind not addled, by drink and frustration he would have handed it to her; for such a wellbred lady, she did not startle easily or cringe from his working hands. With a strung-out whine, she simply displaced the torn fabric so Sebastian's knee pressed between her thighs could provide her with more friction.

Sebastian sank to his knees, hooking her thigh around his broad shoulder. Balanced precariously, her back pressed against the stacks and her leg suspended quivering. Heel dug between his shoulder blades as she sought stability. Her limbs were lean…soft. Delicate like a lamb. No coiled muscle battle worn and firm disguised under her skirts.  

That did not stop Sebastian from groaning against the sparse hair as he nestled himself between her thighs. Her muscles clenched tighter. Not with apprehension. No. With blinding unhindered desire. Whining breathlessly, as she urged him to fulfil his role, drop any pretence to do what they came here for. This was no budding romance. And there was no time to pretend otherwise. 

Sebastian's tongue darted out teasing the tip through her folds. Eagerly seeking out her bundle of nerves to curl his tongue under her hood. Satisfied, a mewl passed her lips to at last have Sebastian where she desired him most. Hips bucked and writhed with every broad stroke and teasing lick against her soaking entrance. Brown tresses tangled harshly in her grip, those neatly filed nails scratching encouragingly against his scalp. 

Her taste was unfamiliar on Sebastian's tongue, but he only lapped at her more fervently. Desperate. As if he savoured enough of her desire for him - he could burn away the memories of sweeter nectars.

Bunching her skirt closer to her stomach, Sebastian's view of her was unobstructed. The collar pulled open where she'd made swift work of the buttons of her high neckline; they hung like loosely strung pearls cascading down her chest which heaved with every breath. Breasts dimpled against the restrictive tightly laced corset.

Sebastian's eyes flicked up to meet hers. Not the right shape or hue but that intensity to them. Storm raging across a riptide, Sebastian, vulnerable in their depth. He could drown in them and would do so gladly.

Blood rushed south, and Sebastian groaned low, pained. He sucked on her clit, coaxing more slick to coat his lips and chin. Hoping beyond hope that her eyes locked on his would flutter closed in pleasure. Her mouth was ajar, each drawn-out moan growing louder as she approached her peak. Clever calculating gaze fixed on Sebastian. He knew he was exactly where she wanted him. Prey to her predator. His cock strained and achingly hard because of it.

Her back arched against the stacks, toes curling against the centre of his back, legs shook with the strain to hold herself upright. Sebastian was relentless. He devoured the quivering nub, tongue teasing as he sucked. Her passionate cry was unrestrained, legs threatening to buckle bringing her down like a house of cards as she collapsed over the edge. Aftershock of pleasure rolled over her, he kept a firm grip on her hip as she rested more heavily against him. His desire for her is confusing and just as precarious. 

Sebastian unhooked her leg from his shoulder, palms running along the backs of her calves. She was still propped up feebly holding herself against the bookcase. Pads of her fingers clutching pathetically at the shelves with the ball of her heel holding purchase on the floor. 

Orgasm ebbing, softening her predatory edge. A smirk played at Sebastian's lips as he looked up at her once polished appearance now dishevelled. Rattling, with a lust-drunk gaze that defiant chin hanging slightly ajar as she greedily gulped down air. 

She narrowed her eyes at his smug expression and gathered her composure before slipping her ruined dress from her shoulders letting it puddle at her feet. Nail digging under his chin as she beckoned Sebastian upwards, pulling him in. 

It made Sebastian's heart beat wildly against his chest. A caged canary faced with a falcon. 

Teeth grazed his bottom lip, tongue seeking his own. Sebastian's clothes fell away easily from his broad frame. His shirt was discarded, followed by breeches which tangled around his ankles as they fumbled towards the settee. Muffled grunts into her mouth every time her palm grazed his cock, hard and throbbing, through his undergarments. Sebastian moved to lie her swiftly across the settee. One hand pressed into the small of her back the other tangled in amongst the pins now falling loose from her hair.

 

Inexplicably, she moved faster than Sebastian thought she was capable of. Leg hooked around his ankle like a snake pulling him off balance. Backs of his knees connected with the settee as his legs buckled and Sebastian collapsed bodily onto cushions. Rarely with his extensive training did anyone get the jump on him. 

Her lips curled as she observed the way his enlarged head twitched against his belly more eagerly. "Now, I think it's my turn." Laces from her corset pulled loose, she let the camisole shift to the floor with it. "-And you looked far too pretty beneath me."

As she straddled his lap, Sebastian spluttered on his groan and the intoxicating sensation of her wet centre against his shaft. Her palms were flat, braced against his chest, nails scratching at the coarse hairs that grew there. Every inch of her soft, naked flesh pressed against him. His hands settled on the curve of her hips, sliding along her flushed skin with hands that seemed too large. 

She really was quite pretty. Sebastian just wished the parts that didn't remind him of her made his heart race as much as the ones that did. 

She caught his lips, fingers cupped against his jaw, her mouth moving against his. Teeth and tongue. Hot breath came out in short dulcet pants as she greedily tasted the remnants of her arousal on his lips.

Her hand snaked down between them, taking Sebastian's throbbing length in her hand. He hissed, as her thumb smoothed over the leaking slit, aligning him with her entrance. Eyelashes fluttered a satisfied sigh, as she sank down, taking him inside of her. Dainty as she may appear, she appeared to relish the stretch to accommodate his size, almost as much as he did. So tight she gripped his cock, it almost sent him hurtling over the edge. 

Barely giving herself time to adjust before she canted her hips. Weight shifting so she could slide up his shaft until only the head of his cock remained before sinking back down onto Sebastian's girth more demandingly. Needy grunts reverberated in Sebastian's chest as he matched her frantic desperate pace. Forehead braced on her chest as he bucked his hips into her tight core. Pebbled nipple caught between his lips, her head thrown back in a wanton moan as Sebastian ever so gently grazed the peak with his teeth. 

Sebastian closed his eyes. Whiskey fog coupled with the godly feel of her clenched around him, he relaxed into her eager pace. Inhibitions lowered, his mind straying to the well-worn path he rarely let himself tread. 

Face striking contorted in ecstasy; a savage beauty like lightning striking the ocean. Mallowsweet scent; that soothed like a botanist's herbal balm. How perfectly her body wrapped around his own as if by design. Sebastian's teeth pressed hard against his tongue as her name danced upon it. With his eyes closed, hands held back - that shameful part of him could pretend it was her. 

"Sebastian," the witch moaned. He didn't remember giving her his name. Nor asking hers. The voice he heard was not that polite West Country lilt but one conjured from Hades - his divine pleasure and punishment. 

Can't let it be her. 

Sebastian forced his eyes open, to look at the woman from the bar. Her neat hair, narrow shoulders and thin top lip. Only to find the lines separating fantasy from reality blurred and contorted. His stomach lurched. 

Maybe he'd had more to drink than he thought. 

Whiskey had crowded and garbled his senses as well as his inhibitions. Sebastian's vision was merely blurred. She looked like her. Not just in her eyes but the sloping curve of her neck, the arch of her nose, her hair longer and tangling against the neat pins that had once held it back. 

It's all the whiskey. 

If he could bring himself to look away from her face for even one moment he would see the room spinning. But he couldn't look away. 

Those keen eyes bore into him, locked with his own and he swore they changed colour. The fire that had been smouldering within sparked, roaring, melting her irises into that familiar hue. 

He didn't just have to squeeze his eyes shut to see her and pretend it was her impossibly tight walls clenching around him with every thrust. 

There she was. 

"You," Sebastian spluttered, disbelief tight in his chest. "No. No- It can't be you. This can't be happening." Who cares if he sounded mad? His mind was spiralled and scrambled, desperate to bring back the visage of the woman from the bar and right himself. This face; her face didn't waver. She rolled her hips once more, bottom lip tucked between her teeth as she cast her gaze down. Over her breasts and the faded scar that curled under the left from the crucio, he'd administered. Firm muscles of her legs earned from years of battle. Calloused hands of someone who knew little of comfort. All were once again her own. 

Sebastian's world was spiralling, tipping on its axis. Tension in every muscle in his body. Still as beautiful as she was in his nightmares, even the ones where she tore out his heart. She clicked her tongue, amused then smiled. So wide, it bore too many teeth.

Fucking exquisite. Sebastian despised the way his heart faltered in his chest. 

"Pity. I guess the kneazle's out of the bag," she purred, teeth raking sharp across his earlobe. So sharp it shocked his spiral back into sickening clarity like ice in his veins. 

Like a shot, Sebastian wrapped his hand hard around her throat forcing her face away from him. Thumb pressed harshly into the corner of her jaw with his iron grip on her windpipe. Any sane woman would tremble to have his large hand like a vice around her throat in anger. Cower, under the venom in his eyes.

But she was far from sane; perhaps never had been. She gasped involuntarily choking around where his fingers so deeply pressed into her flesh, but the smile on her lips never faltered despite how he could feel the hammer of her blood against his fingertips.

"You should know I don't share," she wheezed. It wasn't the polite West Country drawl she'd adopted at the bar - but that feminine purr he knew far too well. Velvety, like a caress that sent shivers down his spine; and if it were possible simultaneously made his blood run cold and his cock impossibly stiffer where it was sheathed deep within her. She whimpered approvingly, hot breath ghosting his freckled cheeks.

"Fuck- how did you-" Choking on his groan as she expertly rolled her hips, grinding on his cock. Evil, manipulative witch. She knew exactly how to turn practically every rational thought in Sebastian's brain to smoke. 

"Polyjuice. She was pretty don't you think? You seemed to like fucking her while it lasted. Maybe not as much as that curvy redhead from a few months ago...I had bruises on my thighs for weeks."

Somewhere deep in his psyche, Sebastian knew he should push her off. Bind her. Gag her. Put as much distance between himself and her and the mixed-up way she made him feel. Preferably in a cell in the deepest part of Azkaban the Ministry had long ago allocated for her when they signed the warrant for her arrest. At that moment, over the cacophony screaming through his head the only coherent thought was how to keep her desperately bouncing on his cock. 

"I thought it was my turn to have some unsanctioned fun." 

No - rose, bubbled and died in his throat. Caught somewhere amongst the shameful rasping groan as she began to rhythmically rock her hips. Never quite releasing her entirely, but Sebastian's grip on her throat loosened as his muscles slackened in shameful pleasure. 

Using every bit of her newfound leash, she leaned forward to kiss him. Sin, like ambrosia on his tongue. Lips slotted against him, they moved in perfect harmony to a melody he wished had never been composed on his bones. 

She wrapped around him as if the wild thing that she had always been had sprouted from the earth, and curled her tendrils around him. Or rather, like a constant wave beating against him she'd worn his surface. It was a marvel he hadn't crumbled into her sooner. 

"You're mine you know," she cooed, her breath hot against his ear.

"I am not," Sebastian spat. But try as he might to deny it, curse her until his final breath - his words rang hollow. And he loathes himself all the more for it. She was not his any longer, but something else. Twisted by cruelty and power that simply wore the face of the woman he once loved. 

Shame stirred in his gut; desire coursed through his blood. 

"Denying it doesn't make it any less true. You know me blind. When my face is not my own. Fate has bound us, Sebastian. Just as I would know you in any life."

Sebastian gritted his teeth, cheek pressed against her sternum. Fingers digging into her shoulder blades, as he pounded his cock up into her harder, faster. If he was stronger, he would not be prey to her illicit designs for him - but he was not. She keened, greedy to take all he could give her. Consume him entirely if she could. Sebastian closed his eyes and cursed himself for being weak.

Vision narrowing, Sebastian groaned, low and pitiful into the curve of her neck. Ashamed of what he knew was coming. "I hate you," he cursed. Repeated it like a mantra, his lips against her sweat-salted skin as if he could transcribe the words onto her flesh.

Deep plunges into her warmth growing erratic as Sebastian's coil tightens. Her body clenched, tightening around him, with every thrust teased against her sweet spot coaxing more slick onto his cock. His punishing words merely rolled off her curves like water off a duck's back. 

"S-Sebastian," her hoarse cry pierced through his resolve. Sebastian bit into her neck trying and failing to hold back from the precipice of the inevitable. Unwilling to surrender any more of himself to her. It only served to send her hurtling over the cliff. His cock buried deep inside of her, her head thrown back, cunt quivering as her climax broke. Orgasm, wracked through her in waves. Engulfing Sebastian's every sense. 

Fire and Brimstone. Gentle breezes and mallowsweet. 

Beauty. Terror. 

Rhythm faltering, Sebastian's hips spluttered as that mounting coil finally snapped. Her name on his lips, her scent on his skin. Everything that remained of Sebastian Sallow was consumed entirely by her. He came hard - with a broken pathetic whine that forced itself from his body as he spilt inside of her.

It was no little death - it was all-consuming. A part of him would never come back from. Another piece of his soul surrendered along with what was left of his dignity. 

Sebastian fought for breath. Unforgiving waters filled his chest, ice seized his joints, heart thundered as dark edges clouded his vision, threatening to drown out the light and sound. Choking on his saliva he wheezed, shoulders heaved forward violently. Fresh tears pricked in his eyes. 

She shushed his soothingly, thumb tracing idle patterns on his skin with a sickening gentleness that curdled his stomach. He whined pathetically against her chest but she only gripped him harder. Fingers carded through his hair as she hummed a sweet tune peppering kisses to the crown of his chestnut hair. 

Perhaps, in another life, he had the strength to overcome the guilt and sickness now seizing his bones. In another, perhaps there was no deception to be ashamed of. 

He wasn't sure how long they sat entwined, soft cock still inside her, his spend leaking onto his thighs matting in the hair. When at last Sebastian's violent sobbing eased he felt the enchantment stretch across his body, taunt ropes strapped his arms to his sides, and bound his ankles. A chaste kiss against his temple as she slid from his lap.

Sebastian watched her and tried to pretend for a second, that he was not bound, she was not mad and hips swaying hypnotically as she pranced naked around their flat as she did every Sunday evening. Not his. Theirs. Another life, unstained by dark magic where she was still his. 

Fussing with her dress, eyebrows pinched together, frowning as she examined the shredded yellow gown. She sighed, holding the unlaced corset over her breasts, gathering up the remnants to haul them to the kitchen island. She found his wand, with its emerald and onyx handle, the one that had belonged to his paternal great-grandfather. Back and forth she toyed with it in her hands. 

"Put that down." A feeble attempt at a threat from a man bound, naked, cheeks streaked with stale tears. Tight from salt they felt stretched like a drum. 

"You ruined my dress," she pouted. "The least you can do is help me fix it."

Traitorously, Sebastian's wand didn't so much as shudder in retaliation. It obeyed her easily, stitching up the splintered seams, her corset tightened, cinching at her waist. Her hairpins reorganised themselves. She looked almost like her old self, the girl she'd been at school, with a spark of fire in her eyes that mirrored his own. 

"Before you go running off to the next little witch who bats her eyelashes at you, Bash. Try to remember - I don't share." She placed his wand back on the counter and slipped a canteen from her purse. She drank deeply. Gagging, hand smacking into her chest to keep down whatever foul liquid it contained.

If Sebastian had still been drunk the way her face bubbled like stew on a boil would have turned his stomach. Her lips thinned, her hair shrunk back into her scalp, her scars paled and her muscles softened. The woman from the Pub returned, exactly as he'd met her. It did nothing to quell the sickness churning in his gut. 

"Au revoir mon amour." She was gone as quickly as she came, but her presence lingered like a gaping, festering wound. 

Sebastian sat in the dark. Hatred for her that he cultivated in public and the private yearning he tended to as it grew like persistent weeds in his garden he tended had given way to emptiness. A void that for a time he was content to let swallow him whole as he stared at the cracks in his floor. Mourning the woman he'd loved. But most he mourned for himself, for all she took from him. 

Shadows inched across the floor as dawn eventually broke. Long after the bindings had dissolved. Sebastian hadn't slept or moved for hours and his joints stiff, groaned as he got to his feet. He trudged to his bathroom and ran the water until it was scalding. Intent on scrubbing his skin raw. As if she could un-touch him. 

[ikeromantic]

Woolen Clothes

Ikemen Advent prompt featuring Arthur! Approx. 500 words.

Arthur was pouting at breakfast. You weren’t sure why. He’d woken up in a great mood (the lovebites on your shoulder proved that wasn’t just your imagination either!). He had coffee and a double chocolate muffin . . . was he having writer’s block? Or maybe a cold! The weather had turned with the coming of December, grey and cold, with ice in the mornings. That could be it.

You smiled at him across the table. “Arthur, would you like some herbal tea?”

“What? No! I’ve got coffee, luv.” His pout temporarily shifted to confusion, then came right back.

Unsure what to make of that reaction, you didn’t say anything else about it. After breakfast was over, as you helped Sebas clear the table and clean the dishes, you asked him what he thought.

Sebastian raised a brow. “You really don’t know?”

“I really don’t.” You frowned at him. “Can’t you at least give me a hint? Please?”

A flick to your forehead was all the help your friend offered. 

For the rest of the day, you flitted in and out of his room, bringing him sweets and lunch and more coffee - always more coffee - and every time, his mouth was stuck in that adorable little pout. 

Finally, you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. You sat down on his bed and let out a little huff of frustration. 

Arthur turned from his typewriter, his lips curled down at the edges. “What’s got your knickers in a twist, hm? Want me to peel that awful sweater off you and make it all better?”

“Awful . . . sweater? What? No!” You poke a finger at him. “You’ve been pouting all day and I want to know why.”

He cocked his head to the side, brows going up. “Have I? Well it’s no wonder.” He plucked at your sleeve. “You put this on first thing. Bloody wool sweater. Bloody wool trousers.”

You brushed a hand over the fluffy, warm fabric. “What’s wrong with my sweater? It’s warm and comfy.”

“You look like a sheep. Can’t see a glimpse of my bird beneath all that wool. And it’s scratchy.” He huffed. “I miss you in those thin as sin summer dresses. Or those tight velvet trousers. Mmmm.” He licked his lips hungrily.

“Arthur. You can’t be serious. I’d freeze in those clothes!” 

He smiles wickedly. “Not if I kept you warm.” Arthur slid a hand up under the sweater, his warm palm gliding over your belly and side. 

You leaned into the touch. “Mmmm, yes, but - but you can’t be doing that all day! You have to write and I have chores.”

“Pish tosh. I’ll have Comte light every fireplace in the mansion if that’s what it takes to keep my little bird warm enough to wear her decent clothes.” 

“Indecent, more likely,” you giggled. 

@queengiuliettafirstlady @candied-boys

[666writingcafe]

Conspiracy

Simeon

This is wrong. How is any of this deemed acceptable?

Ever since my and Luke's return to the Celestial Realm following the announcement of an indefinite postponement of the opening ceremony for Diavolo's school, these thoughts have been constant in my head.

You see, Father feels like the brothers haven't been punished sufficiently enough for defying Him. It's not enough for them to merely be cast down to the Devildom. In His eyes, they don't deserve the opportunity to live a happy life down there. He'd much prefer to personally torture them for the next millennia or so before casting their souls down in Cocytus for all of eternity.

So, He gave Michael permission to do whatever it takes to get the brothers back up here. Michael decided that the easiest way to convince them to leave the Devildom would be by telling them that we're willing to pardon them for their digressions. And since Michael's presence down there would make the brothers highly suspicious, he's planning on taking on the form of Raphael during his trip. After all, most of the brothers are scared of Raphael, so they'd do anything to avoid his wrath.

And guess whose responsibility is it to make sure that Michael's impression of Raphael is pretty much perfect?

Fucking Raphael. How dare he put this on my plate?

I've been disgusted with myself this entire time. Father is literally having us break one of His commandments for what? Petty revenge? What happened to "love thy neighbor"? Did Lucifer wound His pride so severely that He's forgotten how to act?

And the worst thing about all this is that I am powerless to stop it. As it is, if anyone found out I was questioning His will, I might as well be joining the brothers in Cocytus. I'm already on thin ice as it is due to me keeping vital information about the brothers from Him before and during the war.

And somebody has to take care of Luke. I don't trust the others to keep him from harm's way. They'd exploit his innocence for their own selfish needs, and I won't allow that to happen.

So I've kept my objections to myself. Through Michael's training, through my return to the Devildom to deliver the message to Diavolo about "Raphael's" arrival, and through this stupid meeting in the prince's home office. In His eyes, I'm behaving like the perfect angel, blindly doing what I'm told.

And then I made the mistake of making eye contact with Zephyr. It's only momentary, and yet time seems to slow down to a crawl.

I can't have them disappointed in me. We didn't talk a whole lot during my initial visit, but I know that they have a strong moral compass. They'd reject me if they found out that I kept this from them.

Before I can question my emotions too much, the meeting ends, and the six of us--Michael, Lucifer, Diavolo, Barbatos, Zephyr, and myself--walk out of the office and make our way down the hallway. Zephyr and I trail behind the others.

I have to move quickly. Before I change my mind and before anyone notices.

There's a nearby door that's slightly ajar. Perfect.

I quickly grab Zephyr and drag them inside the room, making sure to reposition the door back to where it was as to not cause suspicion. The second they make noise, I cover their mouth with my hand. Their eyes widen as I begin listening for returning footsteps.

Thankfully, no one comes to investigate.

"Will you remain quiet if I remove my hand?" I whisper urgently. Zephyr nods their head. Sure enough, they don't begin screaming for help when I let go.

"Good sheep," I murmur, mentally smacking myself when I fully register what left my mouth. Zephyr remains silent. This room is rather small. Did I shove the two of us in a closet?

Oh, this isn't good. I can already feel myself begin heating up, and I'm pretty sure it's not just due to the cramped space we're in.

"Listen carefully, because I'm only going to be able to say this once," I quietly tell them. Another nod. "It's a trap. They're not getting pardoned. You have to do everything in your power to convince them to stay here." Zephyr tilts their head and looks contemplatively at me. Are they questioning my intentions?

A moment later, they softly smile at me.

"Don't doubt yourself," they whisper softly. "You're doing the right thing." They gently push the door open again, allowing me to leave the room first.

I needed to hear that.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @interconnectedmatrix

[hymemena]

Trials in Tainted Space Transformative Items Magic Anons

Feel free to change pronouns as necessary, and remember to specify muse for multimuse blogs. These are taken from the game Trials In Tainted Space. Inspired by this meme by @sunbun-memes.

CW: General NSFW, Heats, Ruts, Transformation

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Amazona Iced Tea - Increases breast size, height, and/or muscle tone in female-identifying individuals.

Amber Seed - Grants the consumer avian attributes. If consumer is feline, the amber seed will change them into a griffin. If consumer is equine, the amber seed will turn them into a hippogriff. If consumer is a naga or similar snake-like being, the amber seed will change them into a quetzalcoatl.

Bovinium - A small bottle labeled "Bovinium" that contains a small, cow-shaped gummy candy. Grants the consumer cowgirl attributes. If consumer has a penis, their penis will shrink. If the consumer has breasts, their breasts will go and begin to lactate if not already lactating.

Breeder's Bliss - Induces heat or rut in the consumer.

Cackler - A chocolate bar filled with crisped rice. The front of the wrapper has the name spelled out in big, blocky letters. Grants the consumer hyena attributes.

Canine Popper - Grants the consumer canine attributes. If consumer does not already have a tail, the canine popper will cause one to grow. If consumer has a penis, it will become a knotted canine penis. If consumer has a vagina, it will become a canine vagina.

Capraphorm - A small, disposable inhaler full of something called “Capraphorm.” It is blank white in appearance with a black silhouette of what appears to be a goat above the mouthpiece. Grants the consumer caprine attributes. If consumer does not have hooves, they will gain hooves. If consumer does not have horns, they will grow horns.

Catnip - Grants the consumer feline attributes. If consumer has a penis, it will be transformed into a barbed feline penis. If consumer has a vagina, it will become a feline vagina. Accidental or intentional overdose will cause the consumer to become a cattaur.

Chocolac - Causes the consumer to lactate chocolate milk upon consumption.

Dicksprout - Causes user's penis to grow larger. In some cases, causes user to grow an additional penis.

Dose of Soak - Effective only on those who possess a vagina. Will dramatically enhance lubrication and sensitivity of the consumer's vagina.

Dumbfuck Pill - Causes the consumer to become a himbo or a bimbo, depending on gender identity.

Goblinola Snack Bar - A snack bar that is gaudily advertised on its plastic wrap as a tasty, healthy treat. Grants the consumer goblin attributes. Will cause taller folk to become as short as three feet six inches.

Horse Pill - Grants the consumer equine attributes. If consumer has a penis, it will be transformed into an equine penis. If consumer has a vagina, it will be transformed into an equine vagina. May cause the consumer to become a centaur.

Illumorpheme - Grants the user moth attributes. If user does not have wings or antennae, illumorpheme will cause them to manifest. Lemon

Loftcake - A lemon cake roll designed to dramatically increase the consumer's height to a maximum of 120 inches.

Lion-Os - Grants the user lion attributes. If user is female-aligned, can cause the growth of a second row of breasts.

Lip Tease - Allows the user to shrink or enlarge their lips, as well as change their lips' natural color.

Mousearella Cheese - A cheesy snack covered in a thin plastic wrapper with the image of a cartoon mouse nibbling on an oversized wedge of Swiss cheese. Grants the consumer mouse attributes. Will shrink taller individuals down to a maximum of 60 inches tall, and cause the growth of mouse ears and tail.

New Ewe - Grants the consumer sheep attributes. This includes a thick layer of fluffy wool, and the growth of ram horns in male-identifying consumers.

Ovilium - Causes the consumer to become pregnant with eggs.

Pandaneen Pill - Grants the consumer panda attributes.

Pussyblossom Pill - Causes the consumer to grow a vagina. Maxes out at three.

Shark Bites - This is a simple white pack containing three brown coloured jerky-esque bits. Grants the consumer shark attributes. Consumers will gain scales and shark markings, as well as gills.

Strawberry Shortcake - A strawberry cake roll that dramatically reduces the consumer's height to a minimum of 48 inches.

Swineapple - Grants the consumer swine attributes. If consumer has a penis, it will be transformed into a swine penis. If consumer has a vagina, it will be transformed into a swine vagina. Will also cause consumer to grow a corkscrew tail.

Tittyblossom - Grants user enlarged breasts. Has also been known to reduce muscle tone and increase femininity.

Virection - Causes the consumer's penis to grow larger, with a maximum size of thirty inches long. May also result in the consumer growing another penis, up to a maximum of ten.

Zil Ration - These are dried rations appear to be made from local fruits and plant nectars. Grants the consumer bee attributes. Often results in lactation of honey in female-identifying consumers, and honey cum in all consumers.