#you cannot simply Turn On transformers without warning me

[jaybirdscoffee]

i miss him i miss him i miss him i miss him

[dilfdemolisher]

ETERNAL - Hannibal Vampire AU

Summary: Recently turned by your physiatrist after being found on the brink of death causes more then emotional turmoil when you can no longer fight the feeling of hunger - Comments and critiques are encouraged.

Content Warning: DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, cannibalism, gore, it's implied the reader attempted suicide, suicidal thoughts, manipulation, implied death

Word Count: 1.4k

You shake your head in disbelief. “This is ridiculous. I did not consent to this.” 

He smiles, “This specifically? No, but you did consent to be bitten. It is not my fault you are regretting your choice.” 

You cannot stand his smug satisfaction that he draws from your discomfort. 

“I wasn’t given full specifics of what this would entail, and I was vulnerable and incoherent. Someone on the brink of death doesn't understand things clearly.” 

He steps closer; you can’t help but tense at his body nearing yours. "You said yes because you trusted me, and why should you stop now?” His chilly hand cups your own cold cheek. 

Everything is so firm, as you’ve noticed since you turned. It makes you so inhuman that you’ll never get to appreciate warmth again—no hot baths, no more feeling the sun’s heat on your skin. You are now chained to a cold castle, inhabited by a cold, cruel man. 

“You transformed me into a monster; you’re the last thing I’d ever want to be, and you’ve cursed me with just that.” You insult while looking into his eyes. It’s hard to believe you once admired him as an intelligent, handsome man. But now, when you look into him, you understand what a dark, hollow man he is inside. 

His nails dig into your cheek slightly. You feel that he should pierce through your skin, but despite the pain blooming, your cheek stays taught, and no puncture wounds form. 

The physicality of your transformation continues to surprise you. The cold skin that covers your body reminds you of porcelain in a sense; it’s impossible to damage without shattering, causing complete destruction. 

Nevertheless, you are persistent in your standing. “I was your patient; it was your goal to keep me sane. You failed and corrected your mistakes, once too late.” 

After stealing a moment to observe you, he pulls away. “You’ll cave much sooner than you expect; I can already smell your hunger.” He says before walking away, leaving you alone with your thoughts and drying throat. 

Hannibal was right. You’re caving. 

At first, your mind started reeling at the ways you could most ethically eat. But it didn’t take long for morality to leave you alone, perpetually cold and hungry. 

The noise in your brain is consuming you and is now too loud to ignore. It claws at your stomach and mind; it didn’t take long for you to start wailing. You falsely assumed you could go much longer without eating, like a reptile or spider. But it’s only been days since you’ve turned and hunger is crawling out of your throat in desperate cries.

Your bedroom door opens; it’s odd to call it that. It’s just a room in Hannibal's house with a bed, nightstand, and bookshelf—a place that should be cozy. But it’s not like you sleep in it. It's simply a space with four walls to wallow about your stolen death.

“I have something for you.” You hear his voice say. You are too exhausted to even acknowledge his presence. You don’t want a gift; you want to die.

He sighs, you hear him step closer to the bed in which you lay. “She’s unconscious, she won’t know a thing.” 

When his attempt to soothe isn’t met with a single sound of recognition. He places a hand on your cheek, guiding your eyes to his. “She’s going to die either way, you can eat while she’s unconscious or I can devour her while she writhes.” 

You could say no; you could shake your head and beg for a rat, you’d even morally compromise for a cat. But you’re so hungry.

An image of a woman drained and pale, fragile and lifeless that your head conjures does nothing but give you the energy you need. “Please.”

“Then come,” he smiles, holding his hand out to you. 

Shakily, you rise. His hand stays firm on your lower back as he guides you into the living area. 

And there she is, the human you’ll steal their life from, her future, her life, her love. All to be greedily swallowed by you. 

Hannibal watches your reaction closely, the intensity of his gaze piercing through the dimly lit room. You can feel his satisfaction, his anticipation. The human lies motionless on the couch, her chest rising and falling in a slow, rhythmic manner. She’s so fragile, so warm. You catch the faint scent of her blood, a scent that suddenly fills the room, sharper and sweeter than anything you’ve ever known.

Your throat tightens, a raw, burning sensation that pulses through you with every breath. You step closer, feet moving of their own accord. The hunger gnaws at you, each step a battle between what’s left of your humanity and the predator you've become.

Hannibal’s voice breaks through the haze. “You’re fighting yourself, but why? This is what you are now. Accept it, and the pain will subside.”

His words dig into you like knives. You hate him for it. Hate him for turning you, for binding you to this monstrous existence. But most of all, you hate him for being right. The hunger is unbearable, an insatiable craving that dominates every thought, every fiber of your being. You clench your fists, your nails biting into the skin of your palms, but the pain does nothing to distract you from the scent of the blood calling to you.

Hannibal steps closer, his breath cold against your ear. “She’s yours. Take her.”

You close your eyes, trying to remember who you were before this nightmare. But those memories feel distant, slipping through your grasp like sand. All you can feel is the hunger, a relentless, throbbing need that clouds everything else. You open your eyes, staring at the woman lying before you, her life hanging by a thread. It would be so easy, just one bite, and the hunger would be gone.

You lower yourself beside her, hands trembling as they hover above her throat. Her pulse is steady, the sound of her heartbeat deafening in your ears. Your fangs ache, desperate to sink into her soft, warm skin. You hesitate, but Hannibal’s presence looms behind you, his shadow pressing you forward.

“You don’t have to suffer,” he whispers.

With a gasp, you lean forward, your lips brushing her neck. The warmth of her skin against yours sends a jolt of electricity through your body, and before you can stop yourself, your fangs pierce her flesh. The rush of blood fills your mouth, hot and intoxicating, more powerful than anything you could have imagined.

For a brief, terrible moment, everything else fades away. The guilt, the shame, the hatred—it all melts into nothing as the hunger is sated. The warmth spreads through your body, filling you with a twisted sense of satisfaction. You drink deeply, feeling her life drain away with every pull, her heartbeat growing fainter as she rushes down your throat.

But then, something shifts inside you. The realization of what you're doing, of what you’ve become. You pull back, breath ragged, her blood still staining your lips. The woman lies there, pale and barely breathing, her life slipping through your fingers. You look down at her, horrified by what you've done, by what you are.

Hannibal is beside you, watching with that same smug smile. "You see now, don’t you?" he says, voice laced with dark satisfaction.

You stumble away from the woman, the taste of her blood still clinging to your tongue. “I don’t want this,” you whisper, but the words feel hollow, meaningless; you know you’ll want it again. The hunger never truly goes away. It’s always lurking, always waiting for the next moment of weakness.

Hannibal steps closer, placing a hand on your shoulder. "The sooner you accept what you are, the easier it will be. You’re free now—free from the limitations of mortality, free from the weaknesses that once held you back."

You shake your head, backing away from him. His smile fades, replaced by something darker, more dangerous. "You’ll learn in time, the gift I’ve given you" he says quietly.

Without another word, he turns and leaves the room, his footsteps echoing in the emptiness. You're left standing there, trembling, staring down at the fragile life you’ve just torn apart.

[aquamarinemarie]

Solavellan & Temptation

Lavellan: Did spirits try to tempt you? Solas: No more than a brightly colored fruit is deliberately tempting you to eat it.

Forbidden fruit, anyone?

Yes, this brief, little, seemingly insignificant exchange got me thinking about the book of Genesis, and how the serpent tempted Eve to eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil. Which, coincidentally, got me thinking about temptation in general.

Then, more specifically, of how often temptation comes into play in Solas and Lavellan’s relationship; as well as when Mythal tempted Solas to take a body. Or, alternatively, of when Morrigan was tempted to drink from the Well of Sorrows in her lustful pursuit of greater knowledge.

The very definition of temptation is to do something, especially something you know is wrong or simply unwise.

Focusing on Solas and Lavellan, temptation calls attention to the sinful nature of their relationship. The deception at play, the lustful motivation, and the overall selfishness of it. Their mutual lust, in time, transforming into a genuine, enduring love.

Truthfully, a legendary romance. But, as it so often does, their love comes with a price. The price being, in most such cases, pain, suffering, and sacrifice. Pain and suffering often not only felt by the lovers, but, sadly, by those closest to them as well.

Temptation never comes without consequence. No one eats of the forbidden fruit and walks away unscathed.

Morrigan, for example, ignores all warning and drinks from the Well of Sorrows, gaining the knowledge she so desired. Only for her to later discover, and instantly regret, that in doing so, she’d unknowingly made a dangerous, and easily exploitable bond with her mother, Flemyth.

Just as the Evanuris, tempted by their never-ending lust for increasingly greater power, released the Blight, ruining themselves in the process.

Before becoming entangled with Lavellan, Solas, simply put, is a man on a mission. An undercover agent, determined to succeed. Solas doesn’t plan or foresee getting attached to anyone – especially not romantically. In fact, he doesn’t even see those around him as people anymore, and fully intends to keep himself apart, to act solely as an unseen guiding hand in the Inquisition’s efforts to thwart and defeat Corypheus.

Lavellan: We aren’t even people to you? Solas: Not at first.

His ultimate goal being to enter the Fade and tear down the Veil, thus restoring the old world. The world of the elves. Even if this world must die.

Inquisitor Lavellan, unknowingly becomes the “brightly colored fruit” tempting Solas from his chosen path – from his “holy” mission. And she very well nearly succeeds.

Her presence and attention, very quickly, tempts Solas physically; conjuring within him honest physical desire. Just as her continued kindness, curiosity, and unanticipated wisdom appeals to him morally. He respects her judgement and admires her actions.

Engaging in seemingly harmless flirtation is already one step off his chosen path. Choosing to act on that physical desire is another. After all, what’s the harm in a single kiss?

Solas: (Laughs.) I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill considered, and I should not have encouraged it.

We see Solas struggle with this – his attraction to Lavellan. His desire for her. He wants (badly) to engage further, but knows he cannot. That he should not.

He even tries to stop the bond that’s developing between them, by asking for time. He can’t bring himself to tell her no, but instead, leaves the door open. Signaling his weakness, the inner conflict within him.

Lavellan, for her part, continues to be her unknowingly seductive self. She continues to be kind, curious, and respectful of his wishes.

She supports him when a dear friend (Wisdom) of his is killed. And Solas in the aftermath… caves, giving in entirely to temptation.

One last feeble attempt to turn away, and then, “Ar lath ma, Vhenan.”

From this point on Solas is stuck in limbo, torn between two conflicting desires. His ultimate goal and duty, and his love and lust for Lavellan.

In this state, he continues to aid the Inquisition, just as he did before, but all the while also indulging, selfishly, as he puts it, with the woman he loves. The woman who was not supposed to be a person.

He wants to tell her the truth, to let her in on his plans, to take off the disguise. But when the moment for truth comes, fear gets in the way, and with that fear, temptation whispers an alternative. He could abandon his plans, his duty, his people. He could forget about the past and simply live a life with her instead.

He wants it, badly – and that’s what ultimately does it for him.

This simple realization is what finally breaks the spell. Solas, impulsively, steals himself and ends things with Lavellan right then and there.

He breaks her heart and commits to his mission; though he cannot fully deny his heart. He needs her to know that the relationship was real, that his feelings for her will never change.

In dreams, temptation keeps his eyes locked on her. In moments of weakness when he must once again see her face.

The weight of the past is too much to bear, but he can’t allow himself to stop now, not when he is so close (in his mind) to remedying his greatest mistake.

The allure of fixing the past – of fixing one of his greatest mistakes is yet again another temptation.

It’s not until Solas is utterly disarmed by those closest to him (namely Lavellan and Mythal) and given a new purpose, a new mission that he is able to turn away from temptation. To step off the path of death and destruction.

Only, ironically, for another temptation to once again confront him. Inquisitor Lavellan. His love, for a final time, is telling him they will make this journey together.

This gives Solas a choice. He could, for her own good, turn her away, and to his credit, he attempts to. But Lavellan is stubborn woman, hell bent on giving in to her own temptation, and so, Solas happily, finally relents.

For Lavellan, Solas plays the part of the metaphorical serpent, tempting her with both sex and “heretical” knowledge. In Dalish myth and legend Solas is, after all, the adversary, the great and terrible Dread Wolf. The deceiver and trickster who betrayed the gods.

Tragically, Solas doesn’t intend to lead her astray, of course, quite the opposite in fact.

He’d rather she knew the truth, even if the truth is painful and may lead to the shattering of her world view and or faith.

Problem is, no one would believe that, save perhaps, Lavellan herself; once Solas’ identity is revealed. Lavellan from an outsider’s perspective, especially the Dalish perspective, would likely believe her to be a terrible fool. A walking, talking cautionary tale.

A woman tainted by the Dread Wolf, tainted by sin, and wholly unwelcome in any traditional, gods honoring Dalish society. The proof is, ironically enough, written all over her face; if her vallaslin was removed.

For the humans of the Chantry, Lavellan falling prey to the Dread Wolf is an embarrassing political scandal – one which is sure to damage her and the Inquisition’s reputation.

Levallan gives into temptation. She lets love and lust blind her to the holes in Solas’ personal history. She ignores the warning signs, and dreams of a future where the two of them can be together. Perhaps, a future even free of the Inquisition and Chantry.

As a result, she is utterly blindsided when Solas breaks off their relationship. Leaving her brokenhearted and wondering what went wrong.

When Lavellan is finally confronted with the truth, she must accept and come to terms with the fact that she, the Dalish Inquisitor and Herald of Andraste had bedded, loved, and trusted the legendary Dread Wolf. A frightful realization if not for the images depicting a Dread Wolf totally unlike the trickster and devil figure of Dalish myth and legend.

Lavellan could, if she so desired, renounce him, right then and there. Or, if she still loves him, and is willing to once again give into temptation, she can offer instead to join him.

An offer I can’t imagine she’d confess upon her return to her friends and allies in the Inquisition. She’d be an absolute fool to tell her friends that she attempted to betray them.

Solas won’t allow it, of course, even if he’d liked to have had her by his side; leaving Lavellan to stubbornly insist that their love will endure.

The song lyrics from Lana Del Rey’s, “This Is What Makes Us Girls” comes to mind here.

This is what makes us girls We all look for heaven and we put love first Somethin’ that we’d die for, it’s our curse Don’t cry about it, don’t cry about it This is what makes us girls

I’m a Lana fan, okay, please forgive my indulgence.

Since neither Lavellan nor Solas move on, or truly in their hearts let the other go, their love does in fact endure. Inquisitor Lavellan has her duty, she has her mission, but in her heart of hearts, guilty as she may feel, she still loves the Dread Wolf, and won’t give up on him so easily.

This is her temptation, her selfish desire.

Once Solas binds himself to the Veil, I’m certain temptation was once again screaming in her ear. Telling her to go with him. That this was her (and their) last chance.

The choice to abandon southern Thedas, the Inquisition, what friends, family, and allies she may have left to join her love in the Fade is without a doubt a selfish, irresponsible decision.

Certainly, a more self-sacrificing, responsible Inquisitor would’ve stood back, hardened her heart, and watched Solas depart; but that Inquisitor simply isn't Lavellan. Not a Lavellan who is, in this moment, putting herself first.

I’d like to offer in Lavellan’s defense here, that in The Matrix, Neo also always picks his love, Trinity, over Zion. Every. Damn. Time.

For Solas (Wisdom) and Mythal, it is Mythal this time who gets to play the serpent, tempting Solas to sin against the earth, the Titians, and take for himself a body.

Solas, as a spirit of wisdom, first and foremost, knows this is wrong and tries to convince Mythal of the danger. She, however, doesn’t listen.

Instead, she attempts to entice Solas further with the reassurance that the bodies they are creating from Lyrium are the very best of spirit and of the physical world.

She insists that she needs his wisdom, his aid, and most of all, him.

For Mythal to play the part of the serpent, I think it’s very fitting and interesting to note that she can literally take the shape of a dragon. As dragons in western mythology (Mythal’s draconic form is indeed a western dragon) often represent malevolence, greed, lust, violence, chaos, and destruction. Biblically speaking, western dragons are associated with the devil, and have been portrayed throughout history as embodiments of sin and immense power.

In essence, a western dragon is an obstacle to overcome. The hero must slay the dragon, which is often a metaphorical representation of dark desires.

Mythal’s insistence that she needs his wisdom, “to withstand the louder voices who would go too far, like Elgar’nan.” Is particularly insidious to me.

As it implies that if Solas should refuse, then terrible things may happen, and if they do, then that means he would be at fault, since he was the one who refused to help her.

“I need you.” – Mythal to Solas (Wisdom)

And sadly, it works.

Mythal appeals to Solas’ pride, his fear, and his general sense of responsibility; driving home the implication that a refusal would not only be a betrayal of her (his oldest friend) but also a personal failing of his morals.

Mythal expertly wields temptation, and ultimately gets what she wants.

She gets Solas to sin against the Titians, and, metaphorically, take the brightly colored, forbidden fruit.

Time and time again our favorite characters are faced with temptation. Sometimes they succeed, and turn away from their darker desires. But more often than not, it seems, they fall prey to temptation, again, and again.

Is it wrong to love? To desire power? To want for knowledge? No, it isn’t. But sometimes the pursuit of love, power, and wisdom can be fraught with danger and unforeseen consequence.

Sometimes the risk is worth it, and other times the price is simply too much to bear.

[bitethedevil]

NSFW Raphael Headcanon: Ownership and Alienation

(It’s another Raphael headcanon, my dudes. It’s about themes that I have also explored in my fic ‘The Devil’s Dinner Party’ that I wrote recently, and which inspired this headcanon ʸᵉˢ ᵗʰᵃᵗ ⁱˢ ᵐᵉ ˢʰᵃᵐᵉˡᵉˢˢˡʸ ᵃᵈᵛᵉʳᵗⁱˢⁱⁿᵍ ᵐʸ ᵒʷⁿ ᶠⁱᶜ, ˢᵘᵉ ᵐᵉ. I think Raphael would 100% alienate someone he wanted simply to redirect their full attention to him and, more importantly, to make them more dependent on him. My thoughts turn to the plaque in his archive that says something along the lines of “Turn your attentions toward to higher things. Turn them towards to me”. Raphael does not only want to own you, he also wants to be the center of your universe.)

TW: Abusive and manipulative relationships.

Raphael would make it into a sport to alienate you from all of your loved ones. Your friends, your family, your allies…And if you already have a partner whom you love very much? Oh, even better.

He would start small when it came to spreading chaos within your relationship. He would insist on meeting alone with you whenever you were with others, so that they would wonder about what was happening behind closed doors. He would make sure to be close to you whenever you met, so that you would smell of him when you returned to your partner. His greetings had started out as a kiss on your hand, and it had now evolved to a kiss on each cheek every time you saw each other. You naively let him go one step further with you each time, because you saw it as simple cordiality.

Raphael would plant doubt in your mind by using everything you ever revealed to him to his advantage. He would speak directly to all your insecurities. Because your partner seems like such a good person, why would they ever want to be with you? Would they really love you if they knew about all the terrible things you have done? They are not like him, of course, who would embrace it all with open arms. He who would accept all of you, sins and all.

He keeps going one step further with you and then one step further again. Had you asked him to stop or told him that he made you uncomfortable, he would comply…but you never did, did you? During one of your meetings, his arms wrap around your waist and he trails kisses up your neck. By the time he whispers in your ear ‘do you want me to stop, sweet mouse?’, you are already too wrapped up in it to tell him ‘no’.

When he finally lures you into his bed, he is not gentle with you. His brutality in the way he takes you is a stark contrast to the gentle and caring lovemaking you have been used to with your partner.

He would cruelly transform into his devil form without warning while inside you, leaving you to yelp and grasp the sheets as your body struggles to accommodate his size. His claws dig into your hips and his sharp teeth leave bloody marks all over your body. The scariest thought is that despite the brutality that is making your entire body ache, the sheer strength of his cambion form reminds you that he is being gentle with you. He could break you with ease if he so pleased.

He makes sure that you cannot move. His hands and tail are gripping around you tightly, making sure you are locked into place and spread open for him while he fucks you without mercy. Occasionally he moves a hand to pull your hair to force you to look at him, or he moves it to grip around your neck to leave you gasping for air.

Your body hurts, but it is also intoxicating. It should all be too much for you, but to your great shame, you find it arousing…cathartic even, to be treated how you think you deserve to be treated. A fact that Raphael is well-aware of and using to his advantage.

When he is done with you, your body has been painted red, blue, and purple. Scars, bruises, bite-marks…all part of the morbid painting Raphael has created on your body with his teeth and claws. While you can barely move from the aftermath of his brutal treatment, he admires his handiwork and the underlying meaning of the motif: His.

It is almost as good as the expression on your face, now that you have come down from your high. Raphael has successfully proven to you that what he was saying was right: You are a bad person. He sees the self-loathing, guilt, and regret starting to show in your eyes and he is feasting on it. The exact same feelings that will inevitably turn you towards him, and only him, once your partner sees the marks Raphael has left and leaves you.

Raphael will gladly remind you of his little lessons over and over again, should you ever forget: You are not a good person, you don’t deserve love, and no one but him will ever accept you for it.

[hymnserendipity]

Werewolf Bokuto, pt. 1

Mention of pain, mention of Blood, mention of scars, mention of sharp fangs

<<What do you want?! Why am I here?!>> you shout, finally finding the courage to speak through fear, looking at your interlocutor with a look full of hatred and anger, leaving aside everything you were feeling towards Bokuto. A few days before he had revealed himself to be a werewolf following your insistent questions about the tears on his clothes, however his pack leader had expressly asked, in order to make Bokuto understand that he could not refuse, to meet you. But as soon as you entered the bunker you were immediately surrounded by the other werewolves, Bokuto had a scared face as you.

<<From what I have been told you seem like a close-knit couple, we simply cannot run the risk of being discovered.>> Said the pack leader.

You did not understand, Bokuto feared the worst.

<<You will be one of us, you will become part of our group, whether you want it or not, to avoid being exposed, you will have to take the same risk as us, so that you cannot do anything but be faithful.>>

The pack leader came even closer to you, leaning down until he whispered in your ear.

<<It will hurt, these will be particularly hard moments, more than you can imagine.>> your eyes widened. Everyone, thanks to their hearing, could hear what was said. Bokuto knew that there was nothing he could do, and he tried to hold back the tears, quickly thinking about what to do to improve the situation, to not leave you prey to the fear you were feeling, alone.

<<We have no other choice, right?>> he asked in a thin voice, giving up.

The pack leader looked up, directing it towards him.

<<Exactly, this person will be transformed.>>

The bunker fell silent.

<<Okay, but... let me do it.>> he said, looking at everyone present, looking at you with eyes filled with tears, begging the leader. The man shook his head as if he thought he hadn't understood that answer well.

<<Please...>>

Bokuto wanted to add something else, even if he didn't know what, any sentence or word would have been fine, as long as you didn't have to suffer what had been inflicted on him that damned day so many months ago, when he too had started to be part of that group, without wanting to.

The leader of the pack, without answering, caressed your tear-streaked cheek, which you move away contemptuously. The man then turned to him.

<<As long as it's quick, you have an hour to transform them. In my office. We'll be outside, I warn you: don't try to escape, in that case you know what could happen.>>

<<Thank you.>> he forced himself to say.

<<Leave them.>>

Bokuto, as he felt the pressure of the others ease, and found himself free in his movements, ran to you, wrapping his arms around you, sensing how much you were shaking, and quickly led you to the small room he had been ordered to go to.

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

Thanks to my 56 readers!

[gaijin-fujin-resonance]

海月 / Kurage

Welcome to the mind of Imai Hisashi. Thoughts flicker past like bioluminescent jellyfish, and disappear leaving only flickering traces of afterimages. In the depths, giagantic clockwork slowly turns, summoning the clanging of enormous bells. Somewhere in a forest of giant kelp, windchimes softly tinkle. A single deep, echoing drumbeat startles the wildlife to attention, but the ecosystem soon settles down to its natural state of restless, curious, eternal motion.

I’m sure there are fans who cynically believe that this soft, feathery little track, the last of the album’s three ambient pieces, is nothing but a palate cleanser between the strident warning of Gabriel’s Horn, and the deep, dark, almost oppressive wail of grief that is The Twilight Howling. To me, I see it more as a glimmer of the New Buck-Tick shining through the Old Buck-Tick.

It’s odd how this album seems built backwards, in a way. That it starts with the hopefulness and reassurance of Hyakumannayuta no Chiri SCUM and SLEEPWALK, and ends by leaving you in the cold and the dark, 3000 lightyears from home. So I believe that the presence of this light, chiming little meditation is quite deliberate - a message that even in the crushing depths of the darkest ocean, there is still light and joy and playfulness.

It’s the kind of song I can get lost in for hours, just observing the shifting patterns of sound like light refracted off running water. It’s deceptively simple on first listen, yet reveals layers upon layers of sound. It starts with the jittery static that runs through the piece, then brings in some warped Autechtre noises about 0:08, interspersed with intriguing tremolo snippets. At 0:19, the smooth, metallic chimes of singing bowls start up - I’m reminded again that Imai’s wife is very interested in the practice of singing bowls and sound baths. According to Buddhist practitioners (and scientists who have studied these practices) the bowls' resonating sound and vibrations can serve as a focal point, aiding individuals in anchoring their attention to the present moment and increasing their awareness.

It’s no secret that in my Headcanon, Imai is neurodivergent. This intense, flickering mass of entangled thoughts is very common in the ND experience. There are many (some controversial) theories about autism in particular, suggesting the neurons of our minds are simply more deeply connected together. Either way, letting one’s thoughts run wild and dart about, woolgathering and daydreaming, is a vitally important part of the ND creative process. And yet focusing and bringing one’s attention back together for long enough to work on something (the buffering phase) is the hard part. I cannot help but hear this song as a depiction of the ND mind - the electronic static depicting the thoughts as they flicker and run riot, then the singing bowls and the occasional drumbeats serving to focus the mind and transform those rioting thoughts into the shape and form of the melody that emerges from the chaos at around 1:11.

It’s a song without a verse or chorus, no riffs, and only one short burst of melody - but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t have Structure. Ambient music often has its own distinctive style of structure - taking the listener on a (linear or nonlinear) journey rather than the familiar cycle of lyrics and refrain. I like to think of the piece as a depiction of Imai’s own mental journey, from chaos and confusion and static, to harmony and tranquility, focus and eventually peace.

Favourite bit: during the middle, focusing part, there’s a brief interlude about 1:50 where a shiny, metallic tapping sound (to me, it sounds like a coin being dropped onto guitar strings) appears, flicks from right to left, then quickly speeds up. It becomes a jangle, then a buzz, and finally a scraping sound. It sounds a bit like the intro to Bucephalus Bouncing Ball by Aphex Twin - and given Imai’s interest in replicating the classic Acid House snare rush in Subrosa, I do wonder if this sound is somehow related.

[paperanddice]

Abominable beauties are incomparably beautiful beings, physical perfection forged around a cruel and jealous heart. Some wonder if they are corrupted nymphs, jealous mortals granted transformation by some greater power, or if they simply form as they are from latent jealousy or vanity. Whatever their origins, these fey beings are always drawn to mortal beings, demanding praise for their appearance and jealously watching for any kind of competition. Any person that grows too beautiful for the beauty's liking is quick to meet a poor end, killed brutally as a warning to others. An abominable beauty cannot go without praise and affection, physically growing weaker if its unearthly beauty is unobserved, and so they will seek out new populations to dominate and draw worship from if a previous one fails or rises up against it too effectively.

That said however, fighting back against the beauty is near impossible, as their presence causes pain. Just looking at them from a distance strains the eyes, and closer it can even cause blindness. Their voice is painful at a whisper, and deafening at a scream. And to touch them is painful, leaving awful burns on the skin despite the lack of fire. Even creatures immune to flames feel the pain of a beauty's touch, the supernatural perfection simply too much for lesser bodies to bear.

The majority of abominable beauties are female, though a few male ones exist and may be even more vain and jealous. Their appearance is dependent entirely on the population they have been drawn to, shifting to match the most superficial and idealized version of beauty to that population. Their personality will even become a parody of that population's ideals, tainted by vanity and jealousy. They may be more demure, or aggressive, or even affectionate, but always they care for themselves more than others and have no hesitation in destroying those who draw their rage.

Originally from the Tome of Beasts 1. This post came out a week ago on my Patreon. If you want to get access to all my monster conversions early, as well as access to my premade adventures and other material I’m working on, consider backing me there!

Pathfinder 2e

Abominable Beauty Creature 11 NE Medium Fey Perception +23 Languages Aklo, Common, Elven, Sylvan Skills Deception +26, Diplomacy +24, Intimidation +24, Performance +26, Society +22 Str +3, Dex +6, Con +5, Int +4, Wis +6, Cha +8 AC 29; Fort +20, Ref +21, Will +23 HP 196; Weaknesses cold iron 10 Blinding Gaze (aura, incapacitation, primal, visual) 30 feet. When a creature ends its turn in the area, it must attempt a DC 35 Fortitude save. The target then becomes temporarily immune for 1 minute. Critical Success The target is unaffected. Success The target is dazzled for 1 minute. Failure The target is blinded for 1 minute. Critical Failure The target is blinded permanently. Burning Touch (force, primal) A creature that touches the abominable beauty takes 2d8 force damage (DC 35 basic Fortitude save). Population Dependent The abominable beauty is mystically bonded to a single humanoid population. Its appearance is that of an idealized member of that population. If 24 hours pass without the abominable beauty being witnessed by that population, it becomes drained 1, increasing that value for each missed day and reducing by 1 only when witnessed. An abominable beauty can perform a 24 hour ritual to bind itself to a new population, its appearance changing to match the new population. Speed 35 Melee slam +23 (agile, finesse, force), Damage 2d8+9 bludgeoning plus 2d8 force Deafening Voice (one action) (auditory, primal) The abominable beauty raises its voice. Any creature within 90 feet of it must attempt a DC 35 Fortitude save, becoming deafened for 1 minute on a failure, or permanently deafened on a critical failure. The target then becomes temporarily immune for 1 minute.

13th Age

Abominable Beauty  Double-strength 6th level spoiler [humanoid]  Initiative: +12 Painful Touch +11 vs. PD (2 attacks) - 15 force damage. Natural 18+: The abominable beauty can make a blinding gaze attack against the target as a free action. [Special Trigger] C: Blinding Gaze +12 vs. PD (one nearby enemy) - 20 psychic damage and the target is blinded (hard save ends, 16+). While blinded, the target treats all creatures as invisible and is hampered. Miss: The target is immune to blinding gaze until the end of the battle. C: Deafening Voice +11 vs. PD (all nearby enemies) - 15 psychic damage and the target is dazed (hard save ends, 16+). Miss: The target is immune to deafening voice until the end of the battle. Blinding Beauty: Whenever a nearby enemy attacks the abominable beauty and rolls a natural 1 or 2, the abominable beauty can make a blinding gaze attack against the target. Escalating Beauty: At the start of each of the abominable beauty’s turns, roll a d4. If you roll equal to or less than the escalation die, the abominable beauty can make a blinding gaze attack as a quick action once during that turn. Too Beautiful to Touch: An enemy that touches the abominable beauty takes 6 force damage. AC 22 PD 17 MD 19 HP 172

[ficthots]

2F

A/N: Josh is an annoying neighbor. Come on, we all know it's true. This is what it would be like to be his neighbor. If you're lucky. As always let me know what you guys think and enjoy!

Warnings: SMUT. DNI if you are under 18. 18+ content only

Word Count: 8.2K+

Manors. You are taught them from an early age and if you are a gracious person, they stick with you throughout your adult life. Most people with common decency and respect for others can even mutter out a please and thank you on their worst days. These small things are ingrained in you from such earlier times that they truly become second nature at some point, simply transforming you into being a good person. 

The bigger person. A phrase you had heard since your mother first said it to you when you got in an argument with a school friend about them taking your Lincoln Logs without asking. Your mom had sat you down once you had gotten home from school that day and said while she understood how upsetting it could be, that you needed to try and see it from their point of view. Perhaps they didn’t realize you were using them or they thought you were done. Go back to school tomorrow, be the bigger person, and forgive them.

That mentality had followed you through life thereafter. You reconciled with your friend and were now able to apply that mentality to many petty disputes from then on out. However, being the bigger person is not always the best option. 

Take for example, your incredibly shitty neighbor that lives directly across the hall from you. That prick of a human being did not have a sensible or courteous bone in his body. It has been going on for months now. The incessant throb of a bass that jolts your walls and nearly knocks your favorite mugs from your shelves. A screeching of a voice that you cannot make out the words they are attempting to belt out, only offering a migraine. Starting near eight or nine every night and going well past midnight. 

After bitching to your mom on the phone for the millionth time, she suggested approaching them as kindly as possible. Let them know they are kind of disturbing the peace and move forward. The thought of crossing the hall and actually speaking to them for the first time ever had you on edge. 

You were going to try the friendly approach. Being a non confrontational person meant slipping an anonymous note under their door, a nice message and asking to keep it down attached to it. It did not work. A small bout of hopefulness spread through you as the music came to a halt that evening, letting the blood rushing in your ear to cease for only a blissful minute before starting right back up.

Being the bigger person. You had tried that. Attempting to see it from their point of view. There is a chance they did not realize how loud they were actually being. Offering a peaceful chance for them to quiet down, letting their neighbors think again. That was the entire purpose of the note. No embarrassing or awkward conversations between strangers. You truly thought it would work and they would realize their actions were actually quite rude and attempt to be a better neighbor.

Nope. Nada. Zilch. 

Whoever they were picked it right back up. A small, frustrated yelp left your throat. You were shocked that they had so blatantly ignored the pleas from their desperate neighbors. Was it too much to ask that after a long day at work to come home, watch trashy television, or simply read a book in quiet solace? No, it was not. 

And whoever was living across the hall was fucking that up. You didn’t even know their name. Only knowing them by the marking next to their door. 2F. You had never even seen them either, working opposite schedules obviously. Sometimes it seemed like they were gone sporadically for weeks at a time, signaling their arrival once again by the vibrating floors. 

You had reached a breaking point one night. What had been occasional night time music thundering in the building had seemingly turned into a near twenty-four seven parade. You attempted to ignore it to the best of your ability, even making yourself a nice cocktail after a rough day at work. 

It felt like you couldn’t escape it. Far too chilly to enjoy your patio, you wandered through the rooms of your apartment, trying to find any break you could from the incessant noise that seemed to follow you like a shadow of death. 

They had been home for weeks now, more than likely unemployed you assumed by the constant, never ending noise streaming from their home to yours. At first it had been the same as it normally was, annoying, but at least you were used to it. Until you woke up one morning to it. After that, it seemed to never stop. 

This particularly shitty day had you on edge, wanting to come home and soak in the tub, read a smutty novel about a mafia boss forcing an arranged marriage, and then fall asleep a tad bit tipsy. You were already working on the latter of your wants, second mixed drink in your hand and nearing its end. 

It was a Friday afterall. 

Your plans had come to a screeching halt when you arrived home and you could literally see their door slightly shaking. “Be the bigger person,” you whispered out, hand clutching your door knob and entering your own apartment. You tried. Truly you did.

As you had called it quits on the alcohol for the evening you knew you needed to get some food in your system or it was going to become a sloppy night. You made dinner, sat down to enjoy it, trying your hardest to tune out the high pitched wailing crossing the hall that was forcing its way into your space.

But when you missed what one housewife had said to another during a heated argument in Bali you had reached your limit. Feeling more confident with the liquor still in your system, you were nervous to approach them, but it needed to be done. It was time to teach the douchebag some manners.

Slamming your bowl down on your coffee table, standing from your sofa, and walking across the small hall to their front door, your fist connected with the wood, pounding on it repeatedly until the mystery person opened it. 

A curly, almost mohawk of a style sat atop his head. Some sort of beads swayed with his movement, moving across his bare chest, sweats hung low on his hips, his bare feet crossed as he leaned on the door. A large smile greeting you displaying the complete opposite emotion you were currently feeling. “Hi there!” He spoke loudly, excited and eager to speak to you. 

“Do you understand how loud you are? It has been months of listening to this every single-” you were nervous, trying to get your trembling hands to stop the shake, but he cut you off as you started your tirade. “You’re the note!” His smile somehow grew bigger, reaching behind him and grabbing the piece of paper from what you assumed was an entryway table behind the door. 

You nodded, starting back up, irritated that he had interrupted you whilst speaking. How incredibly rude. This kid seriously had no idea what manners were.“Yes and I tried being nice about it, but you obviously don’t seem to comprehend that you live in an apartment meaning you share walls-,” his eyebrows furrowed at your wording, the tip of his tongue poking out from behind his teeth. 

“We don’t share walls.” He had cut you off. Again. Your nostrils flared slightly at that, using that observation as your point of reference. “Exactly. We don’t share walls and yet mine are vibrating every day because of your music that you’re blasting. You can’t even pause it for a conversation!” A laugh escaped you at the end, arms crossing in disbelief at this guy. 

He rolled his eyes, smile never leaving his features as he grabbed his phone and hit pause. You took in a deep breath, already feeling the tension releasing. “It’s late, I got home from a crappy day at work, all I want to do is get some sleep and I cannot do that with you blasting whatever it is you listen to. Honestly, it sounds like the same song over and over which I mean power to you if that’s what you like to do, but please, just turn it down.” He hummed at your response, opening his notes app as you spoke. 

“Sounds the same,” he mumbled, typing that into the note. His eyes darted up to meet yours after he slipped his phone back in his pocket. “Did you say you were going to bed? It’s 9:30, grandma.” You gasped in surprise at his harsh judgment. “Listen,” he leaned to the side to see around you and squinted his eyes, “3F. You seem to be the only person that has a problem with this. I actually share walls with 1F there and they have never complained. Seems to be a you problem,” your jaw hung slack at his words. 

You narrowed your eyes to slits as you stared at him. “Just keep it down, asshole.” His eyes went wider, a scoff of a laugh billowing from his lips. “Ouch, 3F. That wasn’t very nice.” You turned on your heels, entering your apartment and slamming the door behind you. 

The music started right back up. The same song on repeat for the remainder of the night. You weren’t sure when it ended, deciding to sleep with your duvet entirely covering your head, but you knew it carried on late. You could tell by the endless tossing and turning all night. When you looked in the mirror the next morning, the deep bags that sat under your eyes confirmed it. 

You hated him.

Sitting at a dimly lit table in a dimly lit restaurant with your best friend meant you were struggling to view the menu. She grabbed it from your hands, putting them on the table and smiled at you. “Don’t worry, I know what we’re ordering.” As she quickly spewed your order to the server, you sat enjoying the low chatter and jazz music that flowed through the room. 

See, this was a respectable level of volume. 2F should take notes. Your eyes darted open as she slapped her hands on the table top. “What’s up with you? You look exhausted,” she sipped from her cocktail as she eyed you. “Wow, thank you, that’s exactly what I needed to hear today,” you rolled your eyes, grabbing a piece of bread and tearing it apart, stuffing it into your mouth. 

Her laugh echoed in the space, kicking you lightly under the table. “You know what I mean! Seriously, what’s up?” You sighed, leaning back in your chair as you chewed. “My shitty neighbor won’t stop playing his shitty music through all hours of the night. Last night was the second week in a row of it.” She nodded in response, checking her phone as she intently listened to you. 

Ha ha. 

“Report him. It’s a lease violation. Email your property manager and it’ll stop literally that day. Look at Shelby, can you believe she’s pregnant?” She leaned across the table, shoving her phone in your face, but all you could think of was how great of an idea it was. 

As she spent the rest of her evening gossiping with you hardly contributing to the conversation, you drafted out an incredibly detailed email to send to your property manager. 2F was going to shut the fuck up. He was going to be told to. By someone other than you. 

You sent the email the next morning, listing all of the hours that the music had been playing and how incredibly disruptive it was even after you had asked him to keep it down. You received a response within an hour saying that they were going to handle it. 

Entirely unsure how long you had been perched on a barstool next to your front door, offering a great view of your peephole, you felt giddy. Were you waiting to see if he was going to be getting the violation? Absolutely, and you were doing so with a drink in your hand, occasionally peeking into the hallway to see if it was happening yet. 

When your property manager appeared, you scooted the chair away from the door, too excited to sit, instead standing with either hand on the door, eye glued to the small view of the scene playing out in front of you. 

Watching through your peephole you sensed victory as a lease violation was, in fact, handed off to him. You cheered, a tad bit too loud, because once the noise escaped you, his eyes darted across the hall setting sights on your door. 

Your hand clamped down on your mouth, cursing yourself for being so stupid. When he knocked, your eyes went wide. Pretend you’re not home, you thought to yourself. “3F, I know you’re home. I literally just heard you,” your eyes squeezed shut, muttering a silent fuck. 

Opening the door, his fuming gaze met yours. “Hi, happy hump day to you. What can I do for you?” You gave a large smile, happy to finally feel in control of the situation as he held up the paper. 

“A lease violation. Seriously? You know this is a $145 fine, right?” You shrugged, acting as uninterested as possible, motioning your head down the hall to the other lone door on this hallway. “Don’t know. Maybe 1F got tired of it. Anyways, not my problem, but you have a great night.” A look skirted across his face that said do you really think I’m buying that before he spoke up, again.

“You know if you had asked nicely I would have gladly been more accommodating-” you cut him off, holding a hand up as you did. “Oh, I did! You chose to ignore it!” He shook his head, a small chuckle falling from him. “No, you did not. Slipping an anonymous note under my door, demanding that I be more quiet is not a friendly way of handling the situation.” 

You stood staring at him in astonishment. That’s not what you had done. The note was very well thought out and precise in how you worded your request. Did you include the specific rule from the lease? Sure, but how else was he supposed to know it was against the rules? 

He started back up, a playful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “So, now you’ve asked for it.” Your brows drew together, scoffing in response. “Look dude, all I want is to come home and relax after a day of work. You ruin that,” he shrugged at your words. “And that noise is my work.” 

You couldn’t contain the gut punching laugh that fell from you at the absurd claim. “You’re telling me that being loud is your job?” He nodded his head, bottom lip lightly pushing out as he did. “You haven’t even asked my name 3F,” your arms crossed over your chest. “Because I’m not interested in knowing it. 2F suffices.”

His head slightly tilted at you, emotions displaying as he thought. It was like he was trying to figure you out. More than likely trying to figure out all the possible ways to piss you off. “Well, I would like to know yours.” You shake your head, deciding to end this conversation, stepping back into your home and closing the door with a no thanks being offered to him in return. 

2F had said now you’ve asked for it. What the hell did he mean by that? That’s what all of your thoughts had been about since you had closed the door in his face. It had been a little over a week since that day and despite the normal abhorrent noise, nothing else had happened.

Until you received a knock on your door.

Confused because you weren’t expecting anyone, you opened the door, a large smile gracing your face as you saw your property manager there, he offered a sad smile as he took you in. “Hi, Mr. Jameson! How’re you?” He sighed, a folded paper in his hands as he looked at his shoes. 

“Great and I’m sorry to be doing this, but I have to give you this and advise you to heed it well.” Your face must have displayed how muddled you were feeling because he sighed again, turning and walking down the hall. 

You opened it right there, crumpling it in your hand and storming across the hall, banging on his door as you did. When he pulled it open, his head had a tilt and a smirk on his stupid smug face. “3F! What brings you to my neck of the woods this fine evening?” You shoved the paper in his face, knowing he couldn’t read it because of the state it was in and the close location to his face, but you didn’t care.

“Disorderly conduct of a neighbor! Are you joking? This is literally what you do every single day,” he tsked at you, pulling his phone from his pocket as he did. “No, that’s what you do. According to the lease you are not to pester and harass your neighbors which,” he looked back up at you from his screen, “is exactly what you’re doing right now.”

You huffed, feeling anger coursing through your veins as you stared at the devilish little man. “I am not harassing you!” He sighed, leaning against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest as he did. “I mean, you are. The note, the first interaction, storming over here and pounding on my door, that’s harassment 3F.” 

He couldn’t contain the laughter being held in his throat as he saw how irritated and befuddled you were. “You are such a dick.” You mumbled out, going back to your own apartment. Not only had he cost you your sanity, but actual money. Paper currency. He wasn’t going to get away with this. 

Absolutely not. For the next two weeks the noise never ceased. You kept your distance though, not particularly fond of getting another lease violation charge added to your account. Instead, you took another route. 

Being the bigger person, of course. You frosted the last cupcake, smiling at how uniform they all appeared. It was your olive branch. You were known for your baking, every holiday season you were asked to bring some form of baked goods. It was relaxing and a sort of therapy to you. 

As you knocked on the door, it opened with a woosh of air and you offered a kind smile to him. The kindest one you had yet. The tray was balanced on both your hands, a dozen cupcakes sat on it, and you could see he was taken aback by the offering. 

“Look, I apologize. I am the type of person who prefers ambiance and low volume noise compared to blasting whatever it is you play. Everyone has their preferences, I get it. Here is my peace offering.” You handed the tray over to him, pointing to one that sat in the middle. 

“Eat that one first, it’s my special recipe that everyone raves about. I don’t make it for just anyone so enjoy it.” He was dumbfounded, standing there holding the tray, speechless for the first time since you had met him. “Thank you!” He called out as you shut the door behind you.

The son of a bitch didn’t even attempt to apologize. Instead, he just took the damn cupcakes without even so much as the beginning of an apology. That’s why you didn’t feel bad. Not in the slightest. 

When he appeared at your door the next morning as you were leaving for work, you were surprised to see him up. Well, not that surprising. “You fucking poisoned me!”  You rolled your eyes, locking your door and adjusting the bag on your shoulder. 

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic. It was a little miralax in the one singular cupcake,” you checked the watch on your wrist and began walking down the hallway, calling out to him as you did. “Oops, I’m going to be late and I wouldn’t want to harass you anymore. Have a good one, 2F!” A cackle bounced off the walls as he groaned, running back into his apartment as you sauntered off. 

Okay, maybe you did feel bad. In your defense, the jackass deserved it. He couldn’t be nice to his neighbors despite their numerous attempts so you had to do what you had to do. Should you have put a laxative in the cupcake? Debatable. 

But you couldn’t spend a lot of time dwelling on it. You did what you did and screw being the bigger person. Not with him at least. You were a good person. A kind person. He just seemingly brought out the worst in you for some reason. 

All you wanted to do was slap that stupid smug look off his face that always seemed to be there. Expressing your anger in the form of violence sounded especially intriguing on a Sunday evening as you heard the remnants of a party happening across the hall. You were snuggled into bed, ready to call it for the night when you realized that it wasn’t just the normal throbbing of music he offered, but a plethora of voices shouting as well.

You honestly could have burst into tears on the spot. You had work early in the morning, not wanting to deal with the shit storm that this work week was going to be offering you, and he was over there being the most assholey asshole that you had ever encountered. 

Remembering your christmas gift from your best friend had been a state of the art pair of noise canceling headphones meant you were running to put them on and they had been your savor that night. Uncomfortable to sleep with, of course, but at least you could sleep. 

The work day was exactly what you had been expecting. Wanting nothing more than to come home and spend the evening trying to destress was halted as you rounded the corner for your door.

Bile rose in your throat as you approached your front door. Your hand went over your mouth, the stench of garbage flowing from the hall. A tremor appeared in your hand as anger surged in you, never having felt such animosity before in your life. Both of your fists pounded on his doors until he appeared, extremely hungover, but munching on an apple like he didn’t have a care in the world at the moment.

You pointed to the piles of trash that sat blocking your door, a fire dancing in your eyes as you stared at him, speaking through clenched teeth. “Get your fucking garbage off of my door. Now,” he looked around you, seeing the piles of trash and shrugged.

“Not my trash, 3F.” You didn’t have the energy for these games tonight. “Move your fucking trash. I know it’s yours. I know you had a fucking party on a goddamn Sunday. It is yours. Move it.” He was entirely unfazed, shaking his head as he took the last bite of his apple. 

“Like I said. Not my trash. Have a good night,” your mouth hung open as you watched him toss the apple core onto the bags of trash sitting at your doorstep. It took you almost an hour to get all of the tash bags moved to the trash shoot. 

After that night, you didn’t retaliate. He carried on in his normal irritating ways, but you couldn’t bring it in yourself to care. The headphones constantly rested on your scalp now, never leaving anymore. You connected the television to them, played your own enjoyable music, or just sat in the quiet. They were an actual god send. 

Work had been driving you up the wall, no problems could seemingly be handled without you and it was driving you mad. You enjoyed being good at your job, knowing you were succeeding and that people turned to you for answers to issues and questions was rewarding, but it seemed now that it was more about everyone turning to you for any little thing they could.

It’s why your best friend suggested going out one night to relieve the stress and tension from the work week. You jumped at the opportunity, going to your favorite bar and wanting to enjoy spending some time out and about, allowing yourself to think about anything other than the two most annoying things in your life right now.

Work and 2F.

You were standing at the bar, ready to order your first of what would be many drinks for the evening when you heard it. His voice. He had saddled up beside you, eliciting a groan to fall from your lips. “If it isn’t my favorite neighbor! What brings you out? I thought you hated enjoying things? It’s quite loud in here, are you going to report it?” You rolled your eyes, opting to ignore him and catch the attention of the bartender. 

“Two Moscow Mules!” You shouted out, seeing him nod as you went to hand over your card, 2F spoke up. “Put all her and her friends drinks on my tab. Thanks, bud!” You shot daggers at him, shaking your head and going to hand the card over anyways. 

“Absolutely not! Here’s my card,” his hand came over yours, pushing your hand back, a large smile taking over his features. “I insist! Especially after that hefty lease violation fine. It’s on me!” He turned and walked away towards his own group as you were handed your two drinks, fuming as you walked back towards her. 

She giggled, nudging her head in the direction he had gone in. “Who the hell was that? He’s fucking hot! I hope you keep tabs on him for the night,” you let a forced shiver roll down your spine, gagging as she spoke. “That’s my fucking neighbor from hell! The little goblin put our drinks on his tab. How stupid is that shit?” 

She choked on her drink, coughing as she laughed. “No fucking shit! Oh my god I had no idea he looked like that. If he were my neighbor he would be making all the noise he wanted to. Particularly at my place. In my bed! And I think he has the same idea because he bought your drinks,” she batted her eyelashes at you as she sipped her drink again. You waved her off, downing your drink.

“You’re disgusting! We’re not like that. At all!” She shrugged pointing in his direction. “Oh really? Then why is he staring at you like he wants to take you into the dingiest bathroom he can find and rail you?” Your face burned at her words, letting your eyes glance in the direction he was in and noticing his eyes locked on you. 

You set your drink down, moving back towards the bar once you noticed that his attention was back on his group, back turned towards you. Getting the bartender's attention you leaned over and handed him your card. “That guy over there? Put his drinks and his group drinks on this card, don’t charge his card,” he nodded his head, taking the card and taking another drink order for you. 

Sporadically throughout the night, you could feel eyes on you. You knew exactly who it was. Why he couldn’t keep his own attention on his own group instead of eyeing you all night, you had no idea, but it was starting to get beyond annoying. He had, quite literally, the largest eyes you had ever seen so it wasn’t like he could hide where he was looking. Not like he was trying to either. 

The night had been fun apart from your own personal stalker. Many laughs were shared between friends, one drink too many, but as the night wound down and you went to collect your card, the bartender assured you that 2F’s tab had been charged to your card. With your friend having slipped out a bit ago, you sat on a stool at one end of the bar, watching as 2F’s group left, having him head to the bar and collect his card.

You laughed seeing his face show one of confusion after being told his tab had been taken care of for the night. You watched as he mouthed who and as the bartender pointed at you, his head whipped towards your direction. You gave a wave, hopping from your stool and leaving the bar. 

When you got home, you fumbled with your keys as you tried to unlock your door. “3F!” You sighed, turning in defeat as you heard his voice echo in the hallway. “Yes, 2F?” He walked towards you, hands in his jacket pockets as he stood in front of you. His hand came from the pocket and your eyes went wide as you saw the amount of money he placed in your hand. 

You shook your head, trying to shove it back in his own hand. “That’s for picking up my tab at the bar, your tab at the bar, a cleaning service to come and clean your apartment for me placing the trash bags at your door, and for the lease violation.” Your jaw hung slack, not able to formulate any words, eyes looking up to meet his and see the soft gaze that sat on his face. 

“Oh my god, no. I can’t accept this. Take it, 2F.” He shook his head, putting his hands back in his pockets. A small laugh fell from his lips as he eyed you. “Josh. My name is Josh,” shaking your head, your eyes shut, an exasperated breath leaving you. 

“I don’t want your money, Josh. That is absolutely the last thing I want or need from you,” he took a step back as you tried to shove it at him. Your jaw set, irritation bubbling in your system at how stupid he was being. In what world would you just accept a huge chunk of cash like this? There wasn’t a world where it would happen. You wouldn’t. 

Instead you stepped around him with a shrug, hearing his laugh as you crouched down. “What are you doing?” One by one you slipped the bills under his door. “I told you I’m not taking your money.” You could hear the frustrated intake of breath as you continued with your task, not noticing when he stood to the side of you, unlocking his door and opening it.

Your neck fell back to peer up at him with a scowl on your face. You weren’t even halfway through with the stack of money. Reaching your arm up and forward, you hand grabbed onto the cool metal of the door handle and yanked it towards you, shutting the door as you two stared at one another. 

Letting your head fall back so your eyes could once again focus on the task you were trying to work on, you heard him let out a shaky laugh. “You are so fucking stubborn,” you only mumbled out a response, almost done with the cash when he crouched down to your level, locking your eyes to his. 

When you turned your head to face him, your noses nearly brushed against one another with how close he was to you. The smell of tequila was on his breath, you were sure yours had faint notes of vodka and ginger beer, but you were rooted to your spot. Not necessarily making any move to lean away from him or go further towards the man. 

His dark brown eyes had an almost ombre effect, you noted. Unlike most people who had the lighter hue near their iris, the eye growing darker the closer to the edge you got, his did the opposite. They were so dark near his iris that the chocolate practically melted into it. The outer color only got slightly warmer, only noticeable from this closeness. You could get lost in them for hours if you had the time to. Prick. 

The cupid's bow of his lips were not sharp, rather they rounded off at the top peaks, only marginally dipping down to give the plush skin a break. One thing you had taken into account upon the many interactions you had with him was that they were never chapped. Quite the opposite. Always glistening like he had just swiped his pink tongue along them. The picturesque teeth that you could have sworn were veneers from farther away, but upon closer inspection were his actual chompers. Bastard. 

A perfect nose. You were envious of it. What man needed a nose like that? Entirely unfair, you noted to yourself. He had some of the unruliest eyebrows you had ever laid your eyes on, but for some reason it worked. The unkempt hair paired well with the faux curls that were always a permed out mess. Why did you like it so much then? Asshole. 

While you took stock of who was taking up your personal space, he was doing the same. Reveling in the closeness to you. How your kneecap would knock against his every few moments, the hollowed out divet in the base of your neck as you took in stabilizing breaths, the flutter of your eyelids as you were attempting to process the situation you two were in. 

Josh took the opportunity that was being presented to him on a silver platter, knowing there was not going to be a better chance than now to act on this. The feeling of enamorment he had been reeling in since he had first set his eyes on you all those months ago. Trying to decide how to approach you, but when you approached him he was elated. Until the ridiculous feud began between you two. 

He was going to bridge the gap. Leaning forward and capturing your lips with his, hand cradling the soft skin of your jaw, lightly pulling you closer to him. You didn’t fight it. Not in the slightest. Instead, savoring it. How the feeling of him moving against you seemed to set you alight. Tingling from either the amount of time you had been crouched down or the nerves erupting in you with joy. Excitement. Yearning. 

You moved to deepen this. Letting your mouth fall open in greeting to him to explore you, learn you, relish you. When the tip of his tongue accosted yours, the noise that ruptured from within you was a mixture of a sigh and moan, feeling the heavenly encounter for the first time was unlike anything you had ever experienced before in your life. If you could have it bottled up to revisit whenever you wanted to or needed to, you would. 

2F took it as a welcoming invitation to continue on. A sense of relief washed over him, knowing you were indulging in this, accepting this, trembling for this just as much as he was. He wanted to chase you back to him when you retreated, breath stuttering in your throat, almost pained to come to a stop, even if just for a second. 

Your eyes opened, meeting his and you stood, taking his hand with yours and moving back towards your door, silently asking him to come with you. He followed instantaneously, swallowing thickly as you turned to open the door and lead him into your home. The sanctuary he had been destroying for months.

His hands found home on your waist, tilting your head to the side as he pressed himself against your back, the warmth of his breath fanned across the skin causing goosebumps to erupt all over your body. He wasn’t rushing, skilled hands knowing exactly what to do despite the slight tremor giving away the nerves that played at him despite his calm demeanor. 

As his mouth worked your pulse point, your hands sat on his, lightly squeezing as your breathing grew deeper. Uneven. Josh turned you around in his grasp, you wasted no time, letting your fingers card through his hair as his arms encircled you. 

His scent was intoxicating, something that made your head swim and cloud over with pure arousal. The feel of his facial hair running along your smooth skin had you pining. Your tongues danced in a rehearsed manner despite never having mingled before, but it felt known. Comfortable. Soothing. 

Despite your pleas and desperate noises, Josh pulled away from you. His hands moved to cup your cheeks, forcing your eyes to meet. “I’m not going to fuck you without knowing your name.” You swallowed slowly, his thumb skirting across your lower lip as you whispered it out.

He repeated it, eyes shut as he let it settle. You had never felt more one way than the other about your name, but as soon as it was graced from leaving his lips, you never wanted to hear another person say it again unless it was coming from him. 

Josh’s hands had lost their unsure hesitancy, moving to the underside of your shirt with poise and steadiness. His fingertips gripped and removed it, letting you two reconnect once more, not wanting to lose the contact again.

The pure temperature of his body was setting you on fire, your skins nearly sizzling as they pressed against each other. As Josh made his ascent from your mouth towards your chest, leaving peppered kisses along the way, your mind was reeling.

Unable to form coherent thoughts, any chance of intelligent sentences thrown out the window as he took a perched nipple into his mouth, sucking and nipping at the perked bud. 

Your breath caught in your throat, back arching into his chest. A smile played at his occupied lips, his free hand traveling from the curve of your waist to your abandoned breast. As his teeth held your nipple, his fingers twisted the other, eliciting strong moans to release from the confines of you.

When he switched, he didn’t give you even a nanosecond to catch your breath, continuing his motions. “Pl-please, Josh.” His doe eyes peered up at you, hooded with lust and a fire burning in them as he heard you moan his name for the first time. 

“What, baby? What do you need me to do?” Instinctively, your legs widened further, the small cloth covering your core dampened beyond belief, signaling your need for him. Wanting nothing more than for him to touch you. 

He shook his head, grabbing your chin in between his fingers, making you look at him. His voice was deeper, a gravelly tone accompanying it. “I need to hear your words, sweet girl.” 

Your head fell back, arms crossing over your face as you decided how bluntly you wanted to put this. Deciding you simply did not care, you groaned out, “Touch me, use me, demolish me. I don’t care, just please, fuck me, Josh.” 

Those seemed to be the magic words because in the blink of an eye your panties were gone, lost in the heap of discarded clothes, and your core felt his cold hands. 

Gasping, eyes shooting open to watch this happen, his fingertips moved your lips. The sticky signs of your excitement stretched as he lightly traced his hands around you. “God, look at you. You’re a fucking mess,” his words came out under his breath and his thumb slipped in the slick, gathering it and bringing it to his lips. 

As he sucked the digit into his mouth, your jaw slightly fell open. Watching Josh do this, act like this was mesmerizing. It was an entirely new side to him and it made you desperate for him. 

Josh moved behind you, letting your confusion become evident as he smiled. He leaned back against your headboard, pulling you to lay in between his legs. As your back met his chest, your head against his shoulder and neck, his cheek against your forehead, you were alight in anticipation.

“Relax, sweet girl. I’m gonna take care of you,” his legs hooked around your own, forcing them to remain open. His fingers reached down, collecting your wetness once again, bringing it to his mouth. “I will never get tired of that taste.”

Too entranced in the display of him, you didn’t notice when his hand had disappeared down again, but when you felt his thumb press against your clit, a small, surprised yelp left you. A permanent smirk was on his lips, memorizing your reactions and movements for the first time.

Given how thoroughly soaked you were, when Josh’s middle finger slipped into your entrance it was met with no resistance. It offered a sense of relief, not near enough to satisfy the craving you were begging for. 

Slowly moving his finger in and out, hearing the mess you were making on his finger, he quickly added another. As soon as the other entered you, he picked up his pace. Incoherent mumbling and moans tumbled from your lips as you felt yourself growing closer and closer to your release.

Josh offered words of praise as a silent scream escaped you, white light clogging your vision. You were contracting around his fingers, not wanting him to remove them, but it wasn’t enough. 

You were incredibly needy for more. Turning around in his grasp, your hands landed on either of his thighs. Reaching your hand out, you cupped his stiff cock, gently squeezing, and pulling his head towards yours. 

The sensation of his lips finding yours once again was palpable relief. You straddled him, having him remain where he originally was. The head of his cock rubbed against your slit, whimpers falling from both of your lips. 

Letting yourself sink down onto him, your eyes remained shut, head falling back as you took him all. Josh’s arms closed around you, crushing you to his chest. Slowly starting to move, the stretched sensation began to subside, immense pleasure taking over. 

His thrusts met your moves, both of you crying into the other's mouth, against their sweat covered skin, becoming one with each other. He alternated between leaving searing marks on your chest or neck, capturing your mouth, or uttering filthy words of encouragement. 

The two of you were close to your finishes, chasing your highs, your hands tangled in his locks and pulling as you felt it crash into you at a blinding pace. Gasping for breath, his cum leaking out of you and back onto his still hard shaft, you two leisurely came down from your highs.

You didn’t make a move first, letting Josh kiss all over your skin, licking the sweat away that poured from you both. Your eyes didn’t want to open, too heavy with exhaustion to even try. He moved you off of his lap, wiping you clean with a towel, and kissing your forehead as you felt asleep. 

When he left that night, you weren’t entirely sure what the next move was. Were things different? Absolutely. Was he still the prick that had been purposely fucking your life over for the last few months? Undoubtedly. Was he so attractive that your mouth went dry when you replayed certain aspects from the night before over in your mind? Unfortunately. 

The actual peace offering. The real olive branch. The non-poisonous ones that is. They were sitting on a tray, perfectly frosted, sitting in the shape of a large smiley face. Now, there could be the possibility that just the sight of cupcakes could cause a visceral reaction, but you were going to take your bets. 

Until the music started up. 

Your head snapped up and in the direction of his apartment. Wide eyes, jaw set, and shoulders tensing at the unbelievably loud music. It didn’t even sound like the normal noise, instead like there was a concert happening a mere fifteen feet away from you. 

Closing your eyes and forcing yourself to take a deep breath, you crossed the hall, tray in hand as you knocked on his door. There wasn’t an answer at first, so you knocked again, hearing a slew of voices on the other side of the wood. Maybe now wasn’t the time to do this if he had people over. 

When he didn’t answer on the second knock you quickly turned, feeling your face warm in embarrassment. His door flew open, your name escaping his lips to get your attention. You cursed to yourself, turning back around and offering a sheepish smile. His grew exponentially when he saw what you had in hand. 

You thrusted the tray towards him, trying not to peer behind him and see an audience watching this exchange. “For you. An actual I’m sorry for everything. Not spiked, promise,” you laughed at the end, doing the scouts honor salute. Before he could respond, someone who looked just like him appeared at the door.

The man’s eyes widened, a large beaming grin plastering on his features. “Oh my god, are you 3F?” A surprised expression took over your features, eyes darting between the two of them. Why did this stranger know who you were? Another figure appeared with the pair, startling you as he seemed to appear from thin air. He looked like the two, but stood a few inches taller than them.

“No way, 3F? We have heard so much about you!” The apples of Josh’s cheeks flushed red as he turned and handed the tray to the taller boy, speaking through clenched teeth as he did. “How about you shut the fuck up and go stuff these in your fat fucking hole, yeah?” You giggled at the exaggerated wink the boy offered him, taking the offering and looking back to you. 

“Well, it was a real pleasure getting to meet you 3F. I do hope my brother has learned your actual name, but he has no game so,” Josh cut him off, shoving him inside and slamming the door behind the laughing pair. 

His hands rubbed over his face, the tips of his ears burning like his face. “I am so sorry about them,” his thumb pointed over his shoulder in the direction where they had gone. You gently nudged him, wanting to egg him on. “Telling people about me, Josh?” 

Watching his eyes go wide and hearing him stutter over his words was far too entertaining. “Oh, no, no. I mean I mentioned some of the stuff to them and look they’re my little brothers so it’s like their thing to make my life as awkward as possible, like you should see some of the band interviews with them doing this shit-” you cut him off, eyebrows furrowing at his words. 

“You’re in a band?” He took in a short breath, head bobbing in response. “Greta Van Fleet. That’s what we’re called. That’s what the noise is that you’ve been subjected to for the last few months. It’s our new album and I get spurts of ideas at random times,” you nodded, finally beginning to understand his point of view. 

You eyed him, arms crossing. “Should’ve told me that. Maybe this all could have been avoided.” It was time. Time to be the bigger person.

Josh stood next to the table, dressed in a suit that perfectly encapsulated the entire being and existence that he is. The microphone in his hand, a glass of champagne in the other, speaking out to the guests in attendance. 

It was his incredibly long winded speech that everyone had been anticipating. The man did not know when to stop talking, but as his tale was about to wrap up, his eyes fell to you, sitting next to him. “Anyways, I’m not entirely sure what that story of Danny, Sam, and the giraffe have to do with this, but-” laughter flowed around the room at his tangent, your eyes filled with love and adoration as he held your gaze, “I am so glad my plan of being a complete neighbor from hell worked because I truly didn’t know how else to talk to you. I saw you when I was moving in and felt like the gods had sent you to change the entire directory of my life. You are my everything, my entire life, and I cannot wait to craft the rest of our story together.” 

You weren’t sure if you should have been happy or down right pissed, but as his co-best men all stood, raising their glasses, you wanted to table it. “To Mr. and Mrs. Kiszka!” The cheers erupted around the room, sipping from your glass and letting your husband lightly peck your lips before taking his seat.

“So your entire plan was being the biggest pain in the ass you could and hoping you would land me that way?” You leaned into his side as he beamed at you, leaning further towards you, lips landing on your cheek. “Yes, and it worked, my darling girl,” you rolled your eyes, downing the rest of your glass as he snickered in your ear, your giggles mixing with his as you watched his twin begin prepping for his turn.

Jake stood dead center of the room, microphone in hand as he began his speech. “Hello all. I want to say a quick congratulations to my brother and his wife. If there’s anything anyones ever been told it’s about being the bigger person. That’s not the case tonight. Joshy boy, strap in.  Now, everyone knows my brother peed the bed until he was eleven years old.” 

[pedros-mustache]

nighthawks (12)

series masterlist || previous chapter

word count: ~5k

warnings: canon typical violence and weaponry, brief water torture, angst, language, x fem!reader

a/n: just a note that the next chapter will not come out as soon as this one did. it is a lot heftier and will take more time. also: some references in this chapter to this extra from chapter 8. as always––let me know what you think! xoxo!

beta, without whom this story would be nothing: @pleasedin

DAY NINETY-EIGHT—SIX DAYS APART—LOCATION: UNKNOWN

A new day, a new gown. The routine has become unrelenting.

Six days without Mando, nearly a standard week, the longest you’ve gone without his presence, his voice, his body in almost four months. How is it he became the cornerstone of your sorry existence? When did he become the foundation, the building block upon which you learn and grow and attempt to triumph? When did that scaly hatred peel away to reveal your tender flesh? 

You miss him. You need him—even if only to hear him berate your failure, like you so deserve, like days gone by. That you can withstand. This you cannot.

Without pausing to consider the cut or color of the newest gown, you dress before the floor length mirror in the corner of your room. Breeth was right when he called your stay here a charade. You are a prisoner painted in finery: gowns and jewelry at your wrists and ears; perfumes that worm beneath the skin; a curved circlet that rests on the crown of your head, dipping down to kiss your forehead. The adornment is a signal, as good as a shackle around your ankle. You belong to Devaneer Breeth, his guest of honor, but should you stray from his carefully constructed path—

Zap. Like the window force field, a lightning bolt of electricity rockets down your spine, sent from a diode hidden within the crown’s golden filigree. This morning, you have tarried too long in your bedroom. You should be in Breeth’s study by now. Morning interrogation.

You turn to the chamber door. Another zap, and your back curls in protest. You bite your tongue to keep from crying out. Breeth has way too much fun with the trigger.

By the time you make it to his study on the other side of the mansion, he has shocked you twice more. Gods, between testing the force field each night and the ridiculous crown, you are bound to transform to nothing but a ribbon of trapped, frantic energy. If Mando comes… When Mando comes, he will have nothing to transport home other than a glowing ball of electricity. Maybe he can put you on the shelf and put his cock in the jar if ever he needs to find release.

The door opens when you knock, and from his place behind a heavy wooden desk, Breeth waves you inside. A child sat upon his lap depresses the trigger button linked to your crown, and you bend at the waist, clutching the nearest chair back. Gnashing teeth and bitter tears—holy shit, that hurts.

“There, there,” Breeth chuckles, removing the cylindrical control from the child’s hand. “That’s enough, Zale. You’ve had your fun.” 

The child protests with a whine, but Breeth sends him off with an attendant. He gestures for you to take your chair—the same as every morning: straight backed, wooden, a ripple in the seat that digs into the base of your tailbone after an hour of rigid stillness. He bites off the end of a fat cigar and lights it. As has become your custom in the last several, miserable days, you do not sit until he wafts the first column of smoke in your face. You swallow it, tense your jaw, and sit down.

“You look well.” Your steely gaze hits him hard; he only shrugs in response. “Simply trying to break the ice. I thought you might like the chance to talk. That way you can see I mean no harm to your Mandalorian.”

“I have nothing to say to you.”

“Hm, how disappointing—and here I thought we were becoming friends.” He leans back in his chair, trailing his nail around the edge of the crown’s control. You steel yourself, waiting, watching his purposeful movements. “After all I’ve given you out of my own home… After what little I’ve asked of you…”

“You are holding me prisoner.”

Breeth furrows his brow. “You are free to walk the grounds of the estate. What you do in your own time is of no consequence to me.” 

“But you won’t let me leave.”

“No.” He tilts his head, drawing out the word as though you need the extra time to understand. “Not until you give me what I want.”

“Mando has nothing for you. I have nothing for you.”

Zap. Five total shocks this morning. You cannot repress the whimper that slips from your mouth.

“Wrong answer, darling.” 

Breeth drops the cylinder to his desk and angles his body forward. Any playful, patient visage he portrayed melts away, replaced by an encroaching shadow. His brows lower, turning his gaze dark and pointed. The snaggle tooth at the top of his mouth glints in the morning light. Smoke pours from his mouth when he speaks, his hushed voice a snake’s slither.

“I want that Mandalorian. He is valuable and has not gone as unnoticed as he may think. You will bring him to me, and you can consider your debt repaid. I will forget that you tried to kill me. You can be on your way.” He narrows his gaze. “I just want the Mandalorian.”

Your upper lip curls in a sneer. “I told you: he has nothing for you. Even if he did, he’d never come. He’d never sacrifice himself for me.”

“That is where you are wrong. I know a man in love when I see one. I have seen your Mandalorian. He loves you, as I suspect… you love him. Even if you do not send for him, he will come—for you.”

Ice, white hot and burning, floods your veins. Your cheeks warm. Sweat gathers at your upper lip. Love, love—the word batters around like a loose spring in your head.

You will concede that you care for Mando as you might any brother-in-arms. You care that he does the lion’s share of the work, bringing in credits for food and comfort. You care that he doesn’t die because then what the fuck would you do? But you don’t love him, and he doesn’t love you. Fuck you, yes. But no, never love you. That is too strong a word for the unholy things you commune in. You are a cavern of release for him, an open well ready for the filling. He is a mountain, and you climb to the peak of him to find a burst of ecstasy. That is it; that is all.

“Ah, I seem to have struck a nerve. You don’t return his affections?”

You ignore the bait—for Breeth’s sake and your own. “Mando is no mercenary. He wouldn’t work for you. Whatever it is you want from him, he wouldn’t do it. Not for a million credits.”

“Maybe not… But I feel he might be further persuaded if I prod the protective shell of that little green friend.” 

Grogu. Your stomach bottoms out. 

The bastard’s eyes twinkle as he takes in your poorly concealed horror. “Word of a renegade Mandalorian and a small green goblin travels fast in the underworld. I’m sure your man knows that.”

An image of father and son, such an unlikely pair, flashes before your eyes. Mando would do anything for Grogu. Had you not seen him interact with his son you would not know the depths to which his love extends for the boy. But you have seen it, up close and personal. He would walk fiery coals, cut out his tongue, brandish his body with open wounds to keep his foundling safe. Forget you; forget whatever sinewy relationship you may have. Grogu comes first. Always first, always sacrificially. 

Breeth is smart; you’ll give him that. Take you, get Mando—sure, you can accept that. But get the Mandalorian to stay and do an underlord’s bidding using his own son against him? Yeah, you and Breeth both know that would work.

You can’t—you won’t—let that happen. No matter what Breeth does to you.

Rising from his desk, Breeth motions to the back of the room. “Monjar”—the weasel slinks forward from the shadows, hands tucked within the folds of his sleeves—“why don’t you show our guest the baths? Perhaps some time beneath the water will convince her to open up about the Mandalorian’s location.”

//

DAY NINETY-EIGHT, CONCURRENT—LOCATION: NEVARRO

The Sunder all but drops to Nevarro’s surface. The landing gear groans on impact, Din’s hasty descent straining the ship’s weaker nuts and bolts. He should worry over the squeal of the mechanics, new as they are, but he doesn’t have the time to take care of his ship the way he should. Not right now, anyway. Coming to Nevarro—fuck, he doesn’t even have time for that. But he needs to offload the quarry trash in the hold before setting a course for Coruscant. He can’t bring that baggage with him.

Shit, shit, shit. He doesn’t have time for this. Each hour, each minute, each nanosecond—like sand between his fingers, falling fast. He cannot afford to dawdle.

Karga is there waiting when Din lowers the ramp. He stands with hands on hips and a furrow in his brow. He leans to the left, peering around Din as he shoves hovering carbonite blocks down the loading dock.  “Where is the girl?” he asks. 

Din pushes a small, cinched bag of completed fobs against Karga’s chest. “Process these,” he growls. “I don’t have time for small talk.”

Something—alarm, concern, maybe fear—clicks in Karga’s eyes. He glances down long enough to open the bag and sift through the fobs. There’s five there: two bounties completed with your help more than a fortnight ago; the other three Din tore through in his week without you. That should equal enough credits to give him time. 

Time—how precious a commodity all of a sudden. He once loathed the tick of the numbers on his chrono. The days dragged by, the hours long and lonely. Now, Din can’t seem to keep the moments from whizzing past like stars at lightspeed. 

Karga looks up from the bag and nods. He gestures to a trio of droids standing by for direction. “Get those to my office. Quick.”

It is a hurried, silent walk to Karga’s house. The older man avoids his office altogether, and for the second time, Din is ushered over the doorstep and into Karga’s cramped living room. Amongst the low ceilings and dim lighting, he glances at the wall adjacent the hearth. Last time he was here, Karga laid his elbow into Din’s neck and—

An accusation through gritted teeth: You make her sleep on the floor.

A heavy reply: Yes.

Din shakes the memory away and turns to one of the few people he supposes he now calls friend. He opens his mouth, but his tongue goes dry and thick. What to say? How to explain his failure, his overestimation of your abilities, clouded by his desire for you? How to explain what you mean to him when he himself cannot put his feelings into words?

“I can’t take any more bounties,” he starts. Avoiding the issue maybe, but it’s a start.

Karga arches an eyebrow. “Okay.” He elongates the word and tilts it upward in question before asking, “Are you retiring? I knew that little whippersnapper had it in her to take up the mantle, but I didn’t think she’d push you out of the job this fast.”

“No.” Din shifts his weight from one foot to another, tapping his finger on the heavy tac-belt around his waist. “I—” Fuck, he might as well rip the bandage off and deal with Karga’s wrath as it comes. “I lost her.”

Lost her. The confession tastes like ash and coats his mouth with soot. He failed you—both as a teacher and a lover. He should have been there. Whatever happened, he should have been by your side. 

He pictures Grogu, asleep, helpless on the ancient Seeing Stone. He sees the Dark trooper and hears the roar of the engine, of his heart, as his foundling is stolen from beneath his protective wing.

Maker, he let it happen again.

Karga inhales. Exhales. Narrows his gaze. When he speaks, his voice drags across the floor. “What?”

Din rushes to explain. He feels small, like a youngling before an angry father. Shame warms his cheeks, but, despite the helmet, he holds Karga’s dark stare. He did this; he must face it. This is the Way.

“I gave her the fob for Devaneer Breeth and sent her to Coruscant for her first solo hunt. I haven’t heard from her in six days. She’s in trouble.”

“You gave her what?” If a fire blazed in the hearth, the force of Karga’s outburst would surely fan the flame.

“I thought she could handle it!”

Karga scoffs, and the sound raises Din’s defenses. “Mando, Breeth…” He pauses, as though uncertain how to characterize the bounty. “Breeth is slippery as an eel. I sent three bounty hunters after him before I gave you that fob. Only one of them came back, but he was missing an eye and half his jaw. I thought—Well, I thought you’d work with her, not give the job to her entirely.”

Missing an eye… half a jaw… Din’s stomach folds in on itself. He curls his hands to fists. Stars, what has he done?

“I have to go after her.” Whether it is the anxious energy flooding his veins or the oppressive need for fresh air, Din can longer stand in the cloistered, stuffy room. He slips past Karga and makes for the guild leader’s headquarters.  

Karga is quick to follow, his steps small and short, his arms swinging as he attempts to convince Din otherwise. “To Coruscant? You can’t go there. You know that right? You’re a wanted man—on at least five different counts and—” 

“Doesn’t matter.” 

“It does matter.” Karga grabs Din’s shoulder, stops him in the middle of Nevarro’s center street. “I need you, Mando. The guild needs you.” 

All around, swirling in the muggy, rank air, life continues, as unchanging as the tide. The market-goers buzz about their own concerns, oblivious to the mounting turmoil in Din’s chest. There are wares to be sold and mouths to feed and debts to pay. No moment to spare to focus on things of heavier significance when you live hand-to-mouth.

Debts to pay—Din has a debt he must repay, one to you, that scrubby girl he promised to protect should the need arise. He’d hoped it wouldn’t. He’d incorrectly assumed you could handle yourself with Breeth. He was wrong, and you now pay the price. 

He lowers his voice to a whisper. “She needs me, Karga.”

The older man, face weathered with time, time Din cannot afford to waste, blinks. “You must…” He swallows the rest of his sentence and simply nods, as though he understands something Din does not. “You’ll need weapons?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll give them.”

Din works alongside Karga to fill the gaps in his weapons container. He’ll go armed to the teeth if that’s what it takes. To Coruscant, to the Badlands, to the ends of the galaxy. He will not allow himself to fail where he once failed Grogu. He will get you back without sacrifice, without compromise. 

You are his; this he knows and this he accepts. The intricacies of his relationship with you are obscured. Though he is one half of a tapestry weaving pair, even he cannot fathom what convoluted and twisted threads lie beneath the surface of your connection. He sees only the simple, completed front for now, the side which reads Aliit ori’shya tal’din. Family is more than blood. You are family, and you have been since you played with Grogu in the rocky fields of the Jedi training ground. From that moment, in the quietest parts of his heart, Din vowed to protect you as he might his own. 

He will fulfill that vow now, even if it gets him arrested. Even if it kills him. This is the Way.

Materials collected and secured in a heavy trunk, Din lifts the load, sidestepping to the door. His mind whirls with a check-list, what he must do in order to make it to Coruscant and back without detection. If he’s caught, he could be taken to any Imp- or Empire-loyal stragglers that remain, breath bated for the chance to sink their teeth into Moff Gideon’s greatest foe. Or maybe he’ll be turned in like some common bounty. What are there? Six prices on his head from different syndicates and war-lords and generally unhappy folk? He’s risking a lot; it’s safer out here, on the Rim. He could lose everything—for good—if he makes a miscalculation. But family… aliit… you… He cannot turn his back on you.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian pauses at the doorway, leaning the loaded chest on the door jam for support. Karga stares at him from across the room, his stance open, sincere. 

“Is she worth it?”

Without hesitation, Din answers: “Yes. She’s worth it.”

//

DAY NINETY-EIGHT, CONCURRENT—LOCATION: UNKNOWN

You are somewhere—floating—adrift in space and time and nothing hurts. The burden of your failures has lifted; the steel grip of your own expectations has unchained. Weightless and numb, you glide through the stars—and what pretty stars they are! Brilliant hues of yellows and oranges and reds bleed together in dazzling arcs that steal your breath. Shooting stars maybe. A nearby planet glows a gradient blue, vibrancy and light increasing the closer you peer at the planet’s surface. Hegora maybe, where you spent those precious few days with Mando’s attention solely focused on you. 

The inky expanse of the galaxy is cool, and ice crystallizes on your skin, but you do not care. You could stay here, in space, where nothing pokes and prods. Where you are safe. You could stay here. You could stay… here…

A hand, invisible and stern, fists in the hair on the back of your head and shoves your neck down.

Water—it engulfs you, and you are no longer somewhere, no longer floating like a whisper through the stars. You are in the bathhouse, and you are drowning.

You open your eyes. The salt water stings. You open your mouth to scream, but a tidal wave swoops in to fill your mouth, and you choke on the churning bath. Maker, how many times have you gone beneath the water now? How many times has that same invisible hand dragged you upwards, asked you Mando’s location, only to submerge you again? One too many times to count. The healed wound in your lung burns. Something within your chest snaps. 

This—this—is the Breeth you knew lurked beneath the surface. The gowns and the jewels and the dinner parties be damned. 

You manage to catch the sound of a garbled sentence in spite of the water swirling around your head. A moment later you are hauled from the bath, and sweet, fragrant air fills your dripping nose. You gasp—choke—sputter—but you do not cry. 

“She’s had enough. Lay her down.” 

Oh gods, your savior. You aren’t sure if you could survive another round.

Meaty hands deposit you on the side of the bath. You sprawl outwards, left arm and leg skimming the top of what very well might have become your death. The water is warmer than it was when you were first held beneath. Perhaps it is the soft orange lights which heat the room from above. Maybe you relieved your bladder in the pool out of fear. Does it really matter? For the moment you are alive. 

You struggle to catch your breath. Gasping inhale, shaky exhale. Your stomach feels bloated with the liquid you inadvertently swallowed. Your limbs are tight, your bowels loose. Stars, you could curl up here on the edge of the bath and die. At least then you’d find sweet relief from the consuming ache in your gut, and Mando—Mando wouldn’t have to worry about you or Grogu or anything anymore.

“Here. Drink this.” Ka’ered, the physician, young and handsome and completely unruffled by witnessing your torture, kneels at your side, pushing you to a sitting position with a hand in the small of your back. The water in your stomach sloshes to the side, and you grimace. 

You sip from the mug he offers. Fire rushes down your throat, opening clogged ducts and sealed passageways. Eyes squeezed shut, you cough, bending forward. You hack until a wad of phlegm works its way up your throat. You spit it on the ground and wipe your hand over your mouth.

“That wasn’t water.” Your voice croaks, and you lift a hand to touch your burning chest.

“No.” Ka’ered shakes his head with a rueful smirk. “It was a brew of my own making. Purely alcoholic, non-medicinal.”

You push his arm away, push the promise of oblivion—if that is indeed what he is offering—away, and pinch the bridge of your nose. You need your wits about you. Breeth has proven himself an honest criminal. He is more than the smoke he blows in your face each morning. He is a bullwhip and the whipping post itself. You were wrong to ever doubt him.

The pain in your stomach begins to ebb, and you are left with a headache that grates against the front of your skull. Uncomfortable, but better than being underwater. Ka’ered gestures to the cup of alcohol again, but you shake your head in dismissal.

You shift, tilting your face back to gauge his features as you speak. “You stood there. You stood there and watched while they held me under.”

He has the decency to blanch. He avoids your gaze, choosing instead to stare at the rippling bathwater. “I—do what I must to survive here.”

“Bantha shit.” 

A flash of anger in his eyes, and Ka’ered speaks through gritted teeth. Flecks of spittle fall to the ground. “You aren’t the only prisoner here, you know.”

“I don’t see you being tortured.”

“No. Because I do what I must, what I know I have to. You’re too stubborn to do the same.” 

“I’m not—”

Ka’ered reaches out to grab your wrist. You stiffen. His touch is smooth; hard work has yet to blister his fingers. “Listen to me. He—Breeth—He will kill you. He will open up your body and tear out your organs and have me stitch you back together just so he can do it again. Unless”—he leans close, lowering his voice to a thread—“you work with him. Not against him.”

Balking, you snatch your wrist from Ka’ered’s hold. Your right palm slips on the slick tile of the bath’s edge, and you fall to your elbow. Pain skitters up your arm and over your shoulder, but you ignore it as you stand on trembling legs. The world wobbles, your stomach heaves, but you stay upright. You hold your ground.

“I won’t rat Mando out. I won’t do it. You might have abandoned whoever you had before this, but I won’t do the same.”

Ka’ered’s face, normally so calm and composed, morphs to one of bitterness. “I didn’t abandon them! You don’t know what you’re talking about! I found a way to keep them safe.”

“I’ll offer you this advice,” he continues, tone lowering to the same even-keel you now know is a facade. “Find something else to give Breeth. He’ll forget about that Mandalorian he wants so badly if you offer him a better deal.” He uncuffs his rolled sleeve and smoothes it back into place. “Worked for me.”

You frown, and the beginnings of a horrifying realization blooms in your gut. “But you’re… still here…”

A muscle in Ka’ered’s jaw ticks. “Yes.” He looks up, meets your wide-eyed stare, and says, “And my family is still alive.”

Before you can ask any more questions, the physician turns and lifts a container from the floor. He opens the lid to reveal a small, square patch. Poised on his first two fingers, he offers the patch you. “Put this on your neck,” he says. “The excess liquid in your lungs and stomach will bleed into the patch and you won’t be in as much pain.” 

Your hand shakes as you accept the gift. That blooming realization, the one buried deep inside, breaks through the soil and lifts toward the heavens, but still, you push it down in a sorry attempt to suffocate the damned thing. Not yet—you’ll tend the bloom when you are alone.

A grave, heavy look crosses Ka’ered’s face. You wonder if he is looking in a mirror, watching himself in the form of you cross the same path he once did. You shift, face pinching under his intrusive gaze. Finally, he sighs and says, “Come find me when you’ve made your choice.”

Turning, he strides for the doorway, curtained off from the rest of the mansion. He sweeps the curtain aside, walks through, and you are left alone. 

The bathhouse yawns wide as you turn to survey your surroundings. The air hangs heavy with steam from the hot pools in the corner of the room. Scattered flower petals bob along the main bath’s center, not a care in the world. If you could—oh Maker—if you could, you would transform yourself to one of those petals. A life of fragrant, non-sentient ease sounds better than anything life has dealt you so far.

The bloom in your stomach prods your chest, wrenching your heart to the side. Gently lowering yourself to a nearby bench carved into the wall, you consider Ka’ered’s warnings and the rhythm of the last few days.

Your life rests in the blood-stained palm of Breeth’s hand, and so long as he has his sights set on Mando, you are in danger of being laid out like a trap for unaware prey. And if Mando falls in the snare, if he sacrifices himself for you, Grogu falls as a result. A house of cards. One after the other.

There is something familiar here, something you have not acknowledged in the light for fear of the darkness. Jeelia—her death—the way you ran and ran and ran and ended up lost and alone and powerless—again. The memory spider-crawls over your back to rest on your shoulders, and for once, you open the door to allow it inside. You sit, and you remember, feasting on the spidery-memory that sits at your table. 

That year—how many years ago was it now?—the harvest was bad. The wheat fields stretching to the horizon outside of your father’s house laid barren, no rain to water the ground all season. Your father found work in Inora’s pitiful city-center; your mother too. Jeelia—older than your mangy fourteen, wiser, patron saint of grace—made what little money she could watching the scallywag children in your village. You—you did nothing. 

Then the outlaws came. You did not know they were swindlers when they first appeared and promised high returns to the poor farmers struggling to feed their families. They surfaced as angels in sharp clothing, benefactors with strong white teeth. But soon it was too late, and your father owed more than he could pay back, and the outlaw—Rendell Crik—decided he wanted Jeelia as payment.

He took your sister, and he held her against his chest as your parents begged for forgiveness, for her life. Ire wormed in your stomach until you lifted the blaster, the one you stole from your father’s bedside table, and you made to kill him, that dastardly bastard who ruined your family beyond what one bad harvest ever could. 

Only—you misfired. Fuck, you misfired in your ignorance of weapons and your ignorance of life and your hasty panic, and you killed your sister. She slumped in the outlaw’s arms, and she died, and your mother wailed, and you knew—you knew, you knew—Inora was no longer your home. You could never return because you misfired, and your mother did not try to stop you when you ran for the only transport off the planet. 

Your predicament with Breeth feels much the same as your predicament on Inora. You had a choice then: You could have done as Jeelia asked and found work, contributed to the family coffers just until next season. Just until next spring, raro faa’hom. You ignored her because then—so long ago—you thought your youth was for afternoons in the glen with your friends and not for afternoons scrubbing the floors at Old Lady Pilly’s house.

Do you dare ignore Ka’ered’s words now? Find something else to give Breeth.

Had you done what Jeelia asked, you imagine she might still be alive. Your father wouldn’t have needed to ask the outlaws for help because you would have been helping; you would have been adding to the pot. You could have made ends meet if you had just helped. 

Perhaps Jeelia would have married her sweetheart. Perhaps you would have taken care of your parents in their growing age. Perhaps you would be happy now if—

If you had made the tough choice, the ugly choice, when it was presented to you.

Mando. Grogu. The face covered by an impenetrable helmet, and the boy with too-wide ears. 

Dysfunction and all, Mando is the only family you’ve had for nigh on ten years, and by extension, his son joins the fold you are desperate to protect. Desperate to protect because you failed so utterly before. Forget your embarrassment at failing to capture Breeth. Killing Jeelia and breaking your family apart in the process was the worst thing you’ve ever done. You cannot make the same mistake twice.

You see now that the Maker extends a choice to you on a silver, ornately rimmed platter. There stands only two options, only two ways out of this mess. The bloom has unfurled, the horrifying realization revealed, lit by a glowing sun.

You know what you must do.

This is the Way.

NEXT CHAPTER

[ofpineapplesanddawns]

Okay so, Doctor Spriggan keeping Lucian captive, tied up as a good little victim, doing some sort of villain exposition monologue or simply doing doctor style sci fi babble. The moon, completely by coincidence, full. Lucian goes wolfy. Doctor Spriggan fascinated (presumably not having lived through the wetewolf episode). Something something dogs and sticks. Cool fight. Someone gets pinned to the wall of the cave. There is some sort of tension. The possibly alive victims trapped in plant matter deeply uncomfortable with where this is going.

I snorted coffee up my nose seeing the Doctor Spriggan thing, I don't know why that's so funny.

Sounds good! Let's see what I can write up!

Warning: kidnapping, lycan transformation, the Spriggan is a prick but he's a delight so it's sort of forgivable, kinda. Also, there are dead people being used as fuel in the room but that's... neither here nor there. Oh, and blood.

For those of you reading this but having read the first part, here's a link since this is gonna be a continuation.

On with the fic!

--

The kiss was a little rough, tasted like dirt, and was too damn familiar for Lucian to be comfortable with. He snarled and pulled his head back, disappointment clear as day on the Spriggan's face. "Why stop? You seemed into it."

"You cannot just kiss a man you don't know!" Lucian snapped at him.

"And yet you do know me though, that has to count for something."

"It does not when you are not the man that I know, Spriggan."

The creature sighed, crossing his arms. "I am the Doctor, just... a slightly different one. At least from the one you know, but I am still them, as they are me."

Lucian glared hard. "You are not the Time Lord that is my friend."

"Of course not, I'm not a Time Lord." The Spriggan said. "Well, not in the way your Doctor is. He is a Lord of Time, yes, as am I, seeing as I have a TARDIS, but I am also a Lord of Life."

He held out his hand, where leaves and small, white flowers bloomed and grew from his palm, only to wither and fall to the ground in seconds. Lucian watched this, before feeling the ground shift under his feet, and more roots shot up, snapping around his limps, forcing him to drop to the ground on his knees before the creature.

He looked up, seeing the Spriggan staring down at him, he swore he could see a glow to the thing's eyes. "I control this place with ease, the whole forest is mine. No one can leave without my permission, no one can enter without me knowing. I am always aware of any life here, and that includes yours, you mysterious, handsome stranger."

Lucian shivered at the cold touch against his cheek from the Spriggan's long, bony fingers. "Your life is so... strange, like that creature that had come into my home. It was alive, and yet dead, curious. A vampire, yes? A strange kind. What of you? You look human, but you're not quite... something more, yes. Something much, much more."

His smile showed teeth, and he was leaning in closer, turning Lucian's face this way and that. "What are you? Tell me your secrets and I may just let you leave without... too much taken from you, my sweet."

Throughout his journey through the woods, Lucian had felt the all-too familiar pull of the moon above him, hidden from sight by the thick treetops. He had not changed form due to the possibility of being spotted by the villagers, but even now, inside this abomination of a TARDIS, he could still feel her grasp on his true nature.

"You wish to know what I am, Spriggan?" Lucian asked, staring into those familiar, yet so-off eyes.

"I do." The smile was wider. "Tell me."

"What if I show you instead?" Lucian felt the change start, his eyes no longer hazel, instead pale as the full moon herself.

The Spriggan stared, tilting his head, before removing his hand from Lucian's face as he snarled and growled, his clothing tearing and falling to pieces off his torso. The roots wrapped around his limbs snapped and broke as he rose to his true height and in just a matter of moments, there was a lycan standing before a fae Doctor.

They stared at one another, before the Spriggan bared his teeth, throwing up his hand to shoot up roots and vines to ensnare Lucian. But these were easily dodged, and Lucian snapped his jaws, dropping to all fours so he could charge.

The Spriggan was quick for someone covered in bark and wood, moving just out of the way of Lucian's charge, grinning wildly. "Fascinating! A werewolf? Or something else, oh, I would love to see what I can take from you!"

More roots rose up from the ground, thrashing about to try and grab at the lycan, who ran and jumped about, even biting at a few to make them back off. He jumped on top of what he thought was a giant mushroom, but it felt too solid, almost metallic under his paws.

He looked at the Spriggan, who held up a hand, pointing a finger at Lucian. There was a still tension in the air, before a harsh howl of pain came from the beast as the finger suddenly extended to an impossible length to impale him in the side.

The finger retracted back to its normal length and the Spriggan brought it to his mouth, licking at the blood. "Did you know that blood and flesh make for delicious food for plants? Just as you enjoy the use of their bodies, they enjoy the use of yours. Think you can provide for my TARDIS if you bleed out here?"

Lucian growled and clutched at his side, already feeling the wound start to heal. He jumped from the weird mushroom and moved fast once more on all his paws, slamming his head right into the creature, hearing him shout.

He rammed him right into the wall, moving fast to pin the Spriggan to it with his clawed hands. Lucian could sense someone looking at him, a quick glance to the side indicated that, oh fuck, there was someone alive in one of those strange chambers around the room. The poor, young human looked close to death, yet their discomfort seemed to be drawn towards himself and the squirming creature under him.

Lucian looked away.

"You're... hhh... you're a lot stronger like this, little man." The Spriggan tried to laugh as he struggled to get out of the powerful hold. "But remember, I can still pin you down easily too."

Lucian was grabbed by roots around his legs, but that didn't stop him from doing his best to stand his ground. He growled, showing his fangs to the alternate version of his Doctor, who just looked amused, almost... fascinated. It was creepy how much that reminded him of his friend.

"Beautiful, simply beautiful... how to make you mine..." He mumbled quietly.

Suddenly, Lucian was shoved forward, pinning the Spriggan against the wall with his body now, something thick and wooden pushing on his back.

"Oh, this could be a start." The Spriggan chuckled, licking his lips. "You're going to be so entertaining to me. You know, I rather like human faerie tales, probably because I am one to them. Are you one as well? Hm? The big bad wolf?"

Lucian felt the tip of a massive root push his head down, he was much closer to the other's face now.

"Are you going to eat me, Mr. Wolf?" He asked. "Will I taste so sweet to you?"

Lucian hoped the human trapped next to them was finally drained of their life, he was sure they did not need to see whatever was going to happen next.

--

Spriggan can extend parts of his body apparently, he literally stabs a woman in the heart with his finger from across the room.

Also, I think these two are gonna hate fuck, I have no idea where this is going, but I feel like the Spriggan is trying to get it to go in that direction.

[fawnandshadows]

Prompt: Would love request a fic that incorporates the language of flowers! Like Elain and Az use flowers or bouquets to communicate while secretly being together in order to not get caught 😏

Like I imagine Az giving Elain a bouquet of lily of the valley as an apology after he does something stupid, or a miscommunication where Az meant to gift her carnations for luck but accidentally gave two-toned ones that mean “I cannot be with you”.

Hi Anon!! Thank you so much for giving me an excuse to look at flowers ☺️. I hope you enjoy this fic 💖

Major shoutout to my friend @thefangirlofhp for her amazing input 💖💖

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: Language

It started with a rose.

Elain had been having a cup of tea one restless night where nothing felt right. She laid there tossing and turning, willing herself to fall asleep, but everytime she closed her eyes she was assaulted by ugly thoughts creeping into her dreams. She tried the breathing techniques she had learned after almost drowning in the cauldron, but even those did nothing to quiet her mind.

As soon as she sat down she became aware of a shadowy figure in the corner of the kitchen.

“Azriel? You’re back?”

Elain watched as the shadow slowly transformed into a weary, worn, and dusty Azriel. His wings were more limp than she had ever seen them and she tried to ignore how handsome the scruff on his face made him, how rugged he looked, as she jumped up from her seat and exclaimed, “I’ll get you some tea. The water is still warm. Please, sit down.”

She motioned towards the table as she busied herself by preparing the tea for him. She had his favorite tea memorized: No cream, three sugars. She was overcome by the bone-melting, all-consuming feel of nostalgia. One of the first times she had ever felt true peace as a fae was when Azriel had reached out to her; Elain longed for the days where they could sit in the iron chairs of the garden, both of them bathing in the sunlight, and simply enjoy each other's company while sipping tea. Azriel would sun his wings, and Elain would make sure that he was eating the snacks she prepared for him. Occasionally she would be working in the garden and Azriel would come by, tea fully prepared, and ask her if she wanted to join him.

She never said no.

If she tried hard enough, then she could still feel the way her heart would stop and start at the sight of him in broad daylight, carrying a tray while his shadows were nowhere in sight.

As she stirred the sugar into the amber liquid, Elain ignored the last time they were together this late at night.

“Thank you.” Azriel said as Elain placed the steaming cup in front of him.

“You’re welcome,” Elain muttered as she sat down next to him. “How was your mission?”

“Long,” Azriel said, closing his eyes as he took a slow sip of his tea. The gutteral sound he made as the liquid reached his tongue caused Elain to blush — there were only so many reasons why a male would be making those noises, and apparently hot tea after a mission was one of them. Elain bit her lip and found herself wondering when else he would make those sounds. “And muddy. No one ever remembers the mud when they talk about the Autumn Court. They blather on about the leaves for days, but the mud,” A small pop ricocheted through the kitchen as he cracked his neck, and his wings stretched and fluttered before sinking into relaxation. Elain’s eyes devoured every movement. “It’s good to be home.”

“I missed you,” Elain said before she could stop herself. “It’s not the same without you here,” Azriel’s eyes opened and landed on her face. “And I know it was a simple reconnaissance mission, but I was still worried.”

She took a sip of her tea to calm herself, but she knew he was aware of the way her hands were shaking.

“I got you something.” Azriel said, still sprawled in his chair and Elain secretly wondered what would happen if she crawled into his lap. He sat up a little straighter, gathered his shadows around, and then slowly pulled out a single red rose and handed it to her. All of the thorns on the stem had been removed, and Elain was in awe of how effervescent the red petals were in nothing but the dim faelight.

“It’s beautiful,” She said softly and took a deep breath, letting the perfume of the flower wash over her senses. “Thank you so much,” Her eyes met his bashfully. “And thank you for thinking of me.”

“I’m always thinking of you,” Azriel admitted in a low, gruff voice, and for a moment Elain’s brain froze. “It’s thought–'' He cleared his throat. “It’s thought that flowers have a language all their own,” He leaned closer to her, placing one bent arm on the table and bringing the other to the flower. He hesitated for a moment before placing his hand on top of hers, and Elain thought she would combust at the contact. “Roses, for example, are a declaration of… love.”

His voice was thick and warm and full like honey.

It became hard to breathe and Elain found herself gasping for air.

Her hand tightened around the stem of the rose, and she stared at his beautiful hand on hers before lifting her gaze up to his burning eyes.

She leaned closer to him, wet her dry lips, and asked, “Do you remember the bouquet I gifted you of the camellias?” Azriel nodded his head. Somehow they had drifted close enough that their noses touched at the slightest move. “They have a meaning too,” She swallowed as she recalled the memory. Elain had been walking down the streets of Velaris one lazy afternoon, passing by her favorite florist when she saw blooming pink, red, and white camellias — she had always thought them exquisite, like a cross between peonies and roses — and had the overwhelming urge to buy them for Azriel. She was so nervous when she handed them to him, her palms were sweaty and she could barely meet his eyes because she thought that he was going to find her out. “The pink camellias mean ‘I long for you’, and the white are ‘you’re adorable’,” Azriel let out a scoff at that one, but he was. The fearsome shadowsinger and spymaster was nothing short of adorable when he held his nephew and entertained Nyx with his shadows. Elain could feel the echo of her heart pounding in her entire body, her blood was pulsating in her veins, and little stars were forming in the corner of her eyes. “The red,” She took a deep, shuddering breath. “The red camellias mean ‘you’re a flame in my heart’.”

Azriel rested his forehead against hers, and Elain could feel his breath dance across her face. Somehow her eyes had fallen shut, and they stayed closed to savor the feel of his fingers trailing gently over jaw, and almost fell apart at the contact. The hand that laid atop of hers was scorching and anchored her to the fact that this was real, that they were touching, that she had in fact said what she couldn’t when she handed the bouquet to him a month ago.

It wasn’t until something wet splashed against her cheek that she opened her eyes and saw two tears streaming down Azriel’s face. Elain raised her free hand and gently wiped the tears away, but her hand lingered against his jaw and slowly brought his lips to hers.

Elain felt herself sink into the kiss and she felt like how clouds must feel drifting along on a sunny day — light and airy and surrounded in the soft warmth of the sun. That was what Azriel felt like, the sun. The male that had spent his entire childhood in shadows had somehow become the sun.

***

“Do you really have to go?” Elain asked, stepping onto her balcony.

Azriel stood at the far corner of the balcony, the silvery moonlight illuminated his wings while shadows swirled his dark frame. The shadows were his only tell. His face was perfectly impassive, in fact a pleasant smile graced his lips, but the shadows only appeared when he was uneasy.

She wrapped her robe tighter around her as the wind tangled her hair. It felt like she had somehow stumbled into the Winter Court, she tried to suppress her shivers, but Azriel still saw them anyway and pulled her into his arms. Her entire body relaxed as his warmth wrapped around her and seeped into her bones.

“Yes,” Azriel said into her ear, his hands rubbing circles onto her back. Elain resisted for all of one second before melting into his embrace. “I shouldn’t be gone for more than two weeks.”

He slowly pivoted them in a circle so that he was blocking the wind with his body while one of his hands came up to lay against the back of her head, cradling her into his chest.

“That’s two week too long,” Elain grumbled, burrowing deeper into his embrace, she didn’t care about the creases that would appear on her face from his armor, and she didn’t care about the fact that she’d have to bathe yet again to get his scent off of her. All she cared about was getting as close as she possibly could to him. “Why can’t we just go someplace, just the two of us, and have two weeks to ourselves. Away from all this nonsense. You can have your shadows investigate the human lands while we spend all day in bed.”

Azriel groaned deeply into her ear and Elain felt more shivers course through her body, ones that brought warmth and pleasure.

“As tempting as that sounds,” Azriel said, his lips brushing against her ear. “I’m afraid this is actually important. If my reports are accurate, then Koschei is one the move, or at least his pawns are on the move.”

“I don’t like you being in danger.” Elain whispered as if she was afraid of jinxing him. His arms tightened around her. Sniffling, she pulled back slightly, “I have something for you,” She felt the weight of his eyes on her as she pulled out a brilliant purple sprig of phlox from the pocket of her robe. “It means —”

He raised one hand, tenderly cutting her off.

Azriel allowed her to place the flower in the palm of his hand. Last time Elain had gifted him a flower that he grabbed, Azriel had accidentally crushed it and watched in horror as the delicate petals flew away with the wind.

“Let me try,” His hazel eyes stared at the bundle in his hand. A crease appeared between his brows, and Elain couldn’t help but be endeared at his effort. “Pansies?”

She gently shook her head and said, “Phlox. It’s not nearly as common as most flowers, and it took me forever to track it down.”

His eyes narrowed at her slightly, but the smile that tugged at his lips gave him away. His facade always crumbled when she was around. Ever since they had finally admitted to each other how they felt, Azriel allowed her to see every emotion.

“That seems like a trick.” Azriel teased, and Elain felt herself smiling at him.

“Maybe you’ll finally get around to studying that book.”

“I’ve read the entire thing, more than once. It’s not my fault it was illustrated by a two year old.”

Elain couldn’t stop the laughter that ballooned in her throat.

Flowers had become their way of sending messages to each other. Everyday Elain would wake up to a new flower on her vanity: Roses when Azriel was going to spend the night,  lilies appeared when Azriel couldn't get away from work, daisies when he was going to meet her in the garden, and sometimes he would send her flowers with little messages asking what they were and what they meant. Eventually, Elain had gotten him a book that depicted various flowers and their meanings, and slowly they were understanding the language of flowers together.

“It’s not that bad,” Elain said, her laughter slowly fading. “Do you remember what this one represents?”

They looked at each other for a moment and the smallest of smiles graced Azriel’s lips, and though it was small it was enough to cause her heart to tumble in her chest.

“Our souls are united.” Azriel replied, his head dipping towards hers.

“Good job.” Elain said breathlessly. Her lips brushed against his words.

Azriel made a small sound of acknowledgement before their lips met.

***

Elain stared at the flower sitting at her vanity.

A yellow carnation.

Disappointment. Rejection.

The shadow had appeared in front of her this morning and only stuck around long enough to place the flower in front of her while she was brushing her hair. She didn’t even get to say thank you before the shadow disappeared.

Her smile froze on her face as she realized what the flower was.

Rejection

Icicles of dread started poking at her heart and all day she was fighting off the dread that scraped along her spine. She tried to battle her thoughts, her worries, and her anxieties that were screaming at her. Azriel loved her. He’s told her that. He told her that if it wasn’t for Rhysand, then they wouldn’t have to hide… but nothing has changed.

Five months and not a single thing had changed.

Except maybe Azriel’s mind.

His simple mission of two weeks turned into four, and only twice did Azriel send her flowers. The first, three days into his mission, was a tulip — a declaration of love — and the second was the carnation that sat on her vanity, mocking her.

She had told herself that it was just his work keeping him away, but Rhysand had been in almost constant contact with him, and every time he talked of the mission it was with ease. Rhys didn’t mince his words or mind his tongue, and it seemed as if every night at dinner he was updating them about Azriel’s progress and the information he’s obtained.

Logically, Elain knew that Azriel had other more important priorities that didn’t include finding flowers for her. She knew it was a pain to find the exact right flower with the exact right meaning, but this wasn’t the first time that Azriel had been away on a mission while they were together — it was the longest — and every other time he had managed to send her flowers with no issue. I’m longing for you. I’m thinking of you.

Maybe there was another reason Azriel didn’t bother with the flowers.

Maybe he had met someone else.

A female that wasn’t mated and was free to love him. A female that he didn’t have to hide in the shadows with. A female he could talk with opening, one that didn’t make him study books about flowers in order to communicate. A female that didn’t force her interests on him.

And then another nagging thought turned her blood into icy water.

Maybe he did meet someone else, and maybe Azriel had finally met his mate.

A single tear trailed down her cheek as she fingered the waxy, yellow petals.

***

“You’ve been avoiding me all night,” Azriel said, his voice dark and smooth. His footsteps were silent, but Elain knew his long legs were crossing the short distance between them. “Did I do something wrong?”

Her back was still turned towards him, facing the window that overlooked the glittering lights of Velaris. It took everything in Elain not to stare at him the entire night. She tried not to examine and analyze his every word and gesture.

The space between them was nothing more than a couple inches, but it felt like a massive canyon.

She could feel his hesitation, but he still reached a hand to grasp hers.

“Did I?” Elain whispered, trying not to imagine his hands on the skin of another female — running through her hair, caressing her lips, slipping between her-

“Of course not,” Azriel responded in a light voice, one that spoke of a weight lifted off of him. She didn’t protest and he pulled her into his side. “Tell me what’s on your mind, please.”

Her brown eyes never moved from the twinkling lights through the glass.

“The flower you sent a week ago. The yellow —”

“Fuck,” Azriel said, and Elain felt his his body tensed against her. “I knew I shouldn’t have—”

“Who is she?” Elain asked, cutting him off and breaking out of his embrace. “I don’t blame you, but please tell me how long it’s been going on. Is she…” The words were bitter on her tongue. “Is she your mate?”

The horrible irony wasn’t lost on her. She had spent days wondering if Azriel had found his mate while her own unwanted bond had been a dark cloud over their relationship.

Elain watched his expression slackened into nothing but pure surprise. His jaw had dropped and he started blinking furiously. She had never seen him look so gobsmacked before.

“My what?” Azriel asked, his voice high and squeaky.

“Your mate,” Elain said, her own eyes blinking to hold off the tears that were stinging her eyes. “I thought maybe you finally found someone and that’s why you rejected me—”

“Rejected you? I never —” Somehow his voice was squeakier than before.

“You sent me a yellow carnation and —”

“No I didn’t,” Azriel said, rushing to grasp her hands. “I sent you a yellow peony.”

The desperation in his voice caused her to pause.

“Azriel, you sent me a yellow carnation.”

Elain could see the realization set in as a light went off behind his eyes, and slowly his eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t mean — surely you didn’t think — fuck,” Azriel’s eyes screwed shut. “I thought I sent a yellow peony.”

A yellow peony. Azriel thought he sent a yellow peony and that meant,

“Happy marriage,” Elain said, awe dripping from her voice as relief spread through her body. “You sent me a flower that means happy marriage.”

Her hands shook, but his were there to steady them.

“I realize it’s a little early,” Azriel admitted, his thumbs tracing the pale blue veins in her hands. “But I wanted to be honest with how I felt, and I just, I wanted you to know that one day I could see us…” His voice trailed off as he took in Elain’s watery smile. “You thought I was with someone else?”

“I thought that maybe,” Elain said, pausing to swallow the ball of emotions lodged in her throat. “Maybe you found someone that wasn’t so complicated. Maybe you found your mate.”

“Elain,” Azriel said. Her heart stuttered at her name on his lips. “There is no one that I would rather be with, no matter how complicated it gets. I love you. And I’ve already found my mate,” His hand squeezed hers. “One that I got to choose for myself.”

—

Tagging: @thefangirlofhp @tswaney17 @elvery @stars-falling @sakurakittypeach @justheretoreadsposts

[linaselandbasil]

GUYS THE PORN IS HERE! COME GET YA'LL JUICE!

Sneaky date night (cursed version with directors commentary)

(tw for alcohol and spelling mistakes)

The full moon cast a pale veil of ghostly light over the night and a cold breeze caressed her skin as she leaned out of her window. It's the middle of the night and she's bored as could be.

There's a version without the () parts on ao3

...

This is one of many occasions when she simply cannot sleep. There's not much to do aside from looking out of her head like there's no one home but the lights are on.

She sighed, maybe she should go for a walk... She stood up and went to put on socks and shoes, then she gave it a second thought and decided to wear a sweater too.

She went to close her windows but at the last minute someone pushed it open and jumped in.

"Hey bitch." Lance said. "Awake at this hour? And I thought I would get to wake you up myself."

She sighed. "Good evening to you too."

He came closer, inspecting her from behind his mask as he circled around her like a wolf. "Going somewhere?" He stopped behind her, putting his arms on her shoulders.

Despite the darkness of her room, she could see just enough of him in the mirror in front of them. The mask didn't take from his charm, not even a little.

"I can't sleep, thought I would go for a walk."

"In that? I love your confidence." She pushed his hands off and turned around to glare at him. "So where are we going?"

She chuckled, she can't believe this dude. "You can't just invite yourself!" She sat on her bed and looked at him. "It's not like you can just walk around with me like you're a normal person."

"Trust me, I'm so good at hiding that no one will know I'm even there. Not even you bitch!" He sat next to her and got comfortable.

"That's weird."

"Could be weirder. So where are we going?"

"Cherry tree, maybe?"

He scoffed. "Boring! Let's go to the archives!" He got up and threw her over his shoulder. She hit his back a couple of times, trying not to wake her neighbours with her laughter.

Lance, like the gentleman he was, gave her a little warning to close her mouth before jumping out the window. Regardless of that, she screamed in fear.

"Shh!" He said, putting her on her feet. "You don't wanna get caught with me, do you?"

She had a pitiable expression. "Sorry."

"Hmm." He took her by the hand and started walking on the maintenance trail. It's for the gardeners. "Ever been to my super secret private enterance?"

"I don't think I did!" She smiled softly, he can't see it because he's looking at where he's going, but he can hear it in her voice. "Do you take all your dates there?"

"Yes."

"And I thought I was special. You're such a heartbreaker!" He laughed.

"You know, everyone is special in their own way, so really none of us are. It cancels out." He abruptly stopped on a very uninteresting point in the trail next to a tree and looked up.

"What is it?"

"We're here, I'm just trying to figure out how to get you in there." He pointed at a window several meters above the ground. "Don't worry darling, I've got this."

He swept her off her feet and climbed the tree. She's not pleased, but she'll take it.

He set her down on a branch and jumped over to open the window. How he did it is a mystery to her. He's got magic fingers for sure.

The window silently opened, like he sneakily greased the hinges to make his job easier. He turned around, grabbed her and pulled her in like a sack of salt. She yelped, but she wasn't even hurt.

"What a gentleman you are, throwing me around like I'm-" He covered her mouth with his hand, the smell of his tinted leather glove is so nice.

"Shhh, don't speak." He whispered. After a few seconds he removed his hand. "Or at least keep it low."

"Sorry."

He closed the window with one hand, not looking away. She blushed under his piercing gaze, because I just remembered that I was supposed to be building up to something.

"Wh-whats this place?" She looked around at the shelves. The moonlight bathed the room in a ghostly glow.

"The archives, dumbass." He put his hand on her waist and pushed her back against one of the shelves.

She felt like she was burning up. He ominously chuckled at her as her brain melted into a horny mush and left her to do what he came here for.

To fuck shit up.

He took a couple of scrolls and put them back in the wrong place, completely ruining the alphabetical order they were arranged in. He literally pulled a drawer out completely and swapped it with a different one. He took the books off and put them back with their spine facing inwards. That was no one will instantly know which one they need.

He's a fucking menace, I would not want to be his enemy.

She just looked at him as he worked like an artist, watching him walk all over the tile floor without making a sound. She didn't dare move from where he left her. Noisy shoes, y'know.

He spotted a calendar on the wall and took a pencil from the pencil mug to write IMPORTANT! DON'T FORGET! into a day several month away from now. He probably had a cheeky grin on his face too.

He threw the pencil behind him and put his hand on his hips to inspect his work as it rolled away into the dark abyss.

"Okay I'm finished, we can go."

She couldn't help but laugh. "Did you seriously come here to do that?" She asked, hands covering her mouth to conceal her smile.

"Hey, this is important work! Who else is gonna do this? Fucking nobody!" They both laughed, trying to keep it as quiet as possible. "Let's go darling."

He helped her jump out and closed the window. You would never be able to tell that anyone broke in through there.

"Cherry tree?"

"You just can't get enough of me, can you sweetheart? Alright, let's go." She gladly held onto his arm and walked back on the trail with him.

They walked past her still open window and sadly, they had to let go of each other because she didn't want to sneak around in the bushes. She has walkway privileges and she's not afraid to use them.

She comfortably sat down on a bench as her outlaw acquaintance laid down in a flowerbed. The big round leaves camouflaged him surprisingly well.

"So, you still dating him?" Lance asked. There's no better occasion for getting to know each other than a spontaneous late night outing. I would know it, it's my favourite time to make my friends cry about things they didn't even know they were sad about.

"I never broke up with him, but I think we're pretty much over. I haven't talked to him since."

"Alright... Good."

"Good? Why do you care?" She turned around and looked at him. He's barely more than a dark patch in the dim moonlit night.

"You deserve better."

"...Why did you come into my room anyway?" She hugged herself a little tighter, it's cold.

"To see you, obviously. With the way the guard treats you, every night could be my last chance for it."

"Wow, you care about me that much? I'm flattered." He laughed a little. Voice deep and raspy, he's so lovely. Every taste of him that she can get is sweeter than the last.

Ugh, she's pathetic. He literally just laughed and she's horny... Foreshadowing? What do you mean I'm foreshadowing? What is even foreshadowing? I'm not foreshad-

She pulled her knees up to her chest, hugging them. They staid quiet for a while.

The crickets, some nocturnal animals, the breeze, the footsteps of patrolling guards. It's a peaceful night.

"I'm bored." She said.

"Fuckin' told you it would be." He stood up, dusting himself off. "I know a place, let's go get drunk!" He took her by her hands and pulled her up. He went back to sneaking in the bushes as she walked on the pavement like a normal person would.

The place turned out to be the pantry in HQ.

He told her to wait outside in the music garden -or whatever it's called, I hate that frikin place- as he scaled the wall and climbed in through a window that looked about two sizes too small. It worked though. He came out with a bottle of wine, holding it one hand and climbing off like he's a frikin spider.

"Won't they notice it missing? It's going to be very suspicious if a bottle of wine gets stolen and I wake up hungover the next day. "

"Don't worry, I came and hid it like two weeks ago." He said, gently caressing her face. "Maybe I was planning to take you out for a while."

She got closer, wrapping her arms around his neck and looking into the rich red eyes of his mask. "How romantic."

"So, your place or mine? I have some cookies hidden somewhere near your room, if you're hungry." He put his free arm around her waist.

"Mine, I want cookies! it's probably a lot closer!"

He chuckled. "You just can't wait, can you?"

They went back towards her room, luckily there weren't any guards there at the time so this literal felon just marched in like he owned the place. As they walked down the hall of guards Lance suddenly left her side to hide behind a pillar and before she could even ask what this was for, Nevra appeared in front of her. He walks as quietly as a cat. Lance hates that about him, even if he literally does the same exact thing.

"Hey." He looked at her, unsure of what to say.

"Hey..." She wasn't very happy about seeing him. This is the first time they've been eye to eye since the potion incident.

"Why are you awake this late at night?" He asked.

"Why does it matter to you?" She crossed her arms.

"I just... I know you're still mad at me, but that doesn't stop me from worrying about you. It can be dangerous at night."

"Well, rest assured, I'm not in any sort of danger."

He walked past her, but he turned back after a few steps.

"What were you doing anyway? You have work tomorrow!"

"I was on a date, if you must know it so badly!" She said, nearly yelling in anger. He looked surprised, maybe a little offended that he'd be left behind so fast, like a bump in the road.

"A-alright.. Goodnight."

"Goodnight." She walked away with an angry expression on her face. Lance appeared behind her, manifesting from thin air as it appeared to her. "You almost scared me so much I screamed!" She whispered and gently hit him in the arm.

"That's not so surprising, since you are in so much danger right now! At any moment a horrible criminal could grab you-" He wrapped his free arm around her neck. "And eat you whole." She giggled, taking her keys out.

He let her go to open her door. Soon as they were in, he put the bottle on her desk and took his mask off.

"So like... Is this a date?" She asked.

The first time she saw his face tonight was just timed correctly that he had the purest, most genuine look of 'are you fucking serious?' expression.

"Yeah, it is. If you want it to be... I assume you do." He put his mask on the table and began undoing his shoulder guards.

"I do." She sat on her bed and observed as he removed his armour.

"I got the cookies while you were talking to Nevra. It was fun to look at him when you told him that you went on a date!" He threw a paper baggie on the bed. He picked the bottle up and pulled the cork out with his teeth.

"I don't have any glasses I'm afraid." He sat down besides her.

"Who needs glasses? Cut out the middle man!" He put an arm around her. "Ladies first~"

"What a gentleman!" She accepted the bottle and took a small sip. "Wow... uh. It's... it's alcohol."

He laughed, taking the bottle. "Not a big drinker, are you sweetheart?" He took a significantly bigger sip.

"Not really. I don't really see why people find it fun."

"Yet, here you are." She leaned into his side, sighing.

"This is a special occasion... And you worked hard to steal this fine bottle of wine, just for me, I wouldn't want to let you down like that!" They laughed. "Where are the cookies?"

"Here." He gave her the baggie and she wiggled her legs in excitement as she opened it up.

In an hour or so, the cookies were all gone and the bottle got corked back up for now. Lance didn't know how low her alcohol tolerance would be and for once in his entire life he decided not to take a risk.

She took her sweater a while ago. She felt hot. Was it the wine, or was it the man in her bed kissing her shoulder and singing her praises? We might never find out.

She kicked her boots off and gave Lance her best bedroom eyes. "Will this horrible criminal come to take me oooor?" He didn't need to be told twice. He gently took her face in his hands and kissed her. "I'm not made of sugar."

"Oh I know." He grabbed her by her neck and pushed her down to the bed. "Sorry for trying to be nice. Maybe you just like assholes and that's why you let me be around you."

"Hehe, maybe~ Ah!!" He bit her ear. "Oh no! I'm being eaten! Someone save me from this horrible man!" She giggled as he kissed her neck. "Wait, we should keep quiet. The walls are thin here."

"I'm not trying to please anyone outside of this room, love." He said it in a low voice.

"My neighbour likes to gossip you know... I just do don't want to be the talk of the town."

"Ah, I see. As you wish." He straightened up and took his shirt off. "Your turn." She smiled at him and wiggled out of all of her clothes except for her socks and panties. "Isssthiiis why they call it liquid courage?" She asked, purposefully falling into his arms.

"Pretty much."

"Why are you clothed, my dear?" She asked twirling her hair. (I'm sorry for all of you bald besties, I'm trying keep her as nondescript as possible but we gotta have the hair twirl)

"I have my hands full with you." He pushed her off his lap, letting her roll on her mattress. He stood up and unbuttoned his pants. Before he pushed them down he glanced at his date.

Naturally, she was gawking.

"Wanna do the honours?"

"Nah, I'm good. I'm fine with you doing most of the work." She propped herself up on her elbows and looked at him with half closed eyes.

"You little- I took you out, I fed you cookies, I got you drunk, wasn't this enough?" He laughed and playfully shoved her legs, since that was the closest to him.

"Hehehe, noooo! Evil man is being meeeaan!" She pulled his head closer and kissed him. He pushed his pants down, kicking them to to the side. "Yaaaaaaay, pebiiiiiis!" She screamed really quietly.

"Pebis." He repeated, pulling her closer to the edge of the bed then kneeling down.

"Shut uuup!" She was laughing really hard and trying to stay quiet, whatever had her in such a funny mood, Lance was thankful for it, since this could have been a lot more awkward.

"Don't worry I plan on using my mouth for something more fun." He said before kissing her navel.

"You're mM..mmM.making me blush! Ah!" He bit her on her thigh, she hit him on his head for it.

"Shhh, stay quiet!" He went right back to work, putting her thighs on his shoulders and kissing the spot he just bit.

"Isss not like I'm not trying." His fingers dipped into the soft fatty flesh, holding onto her so he would stay grounded despite how drunken with wine and desire he is. He cannot fuck this up, he's supposed to be a gentleman now.... Ignore his earlier behaviour.

He looked at her as he slid his fingers under her panties. She cannot help but feel like she was that window he opened earlier, she laughed and covered her face because that's so funny and she's so tipsy. Lance couldn't help but laugh too.

"What are you laughing about??" She asked.

"I'm laughing because you're laughing! Stop!" He used this as an opportunity to move a little further from her and fully pulled her panties off. If she's laughing she can't be embarrassed.

"Sorry!"

"It's fine." Her fingers found their way into his hair and scratched his scalp in the most seductive manner. (Imagine that as you will, I wrote it down because I thought it sounded funny even if it's weird and im not removing it.)

He kissed her where her thigh met her hips, where did he get all this patience from? From me, I've never eaten pussy before and I'm scared! Ahaahaaahfgyffokff

"I'm a little nervous. Don't stop though! I'm just saying!" He chuckled, bringing one of his hands closer to- to the- I'm going to see myself out, thanks for having me but I'll be jumping out the window.

NO I HAVE TO DO THIS, IM ALREADY SO INVESTED!

HE BROUGHT HIS HANDS CLOSER TO HER VAGINA *dies* I hate that word

"Ah~" She pulled on his hair.

"You alright?" He asked with an absolutely despicable grin on his face as he kept on gently rubbing the skin on the clitoral hood. (Eww.... I'm so sorry but I'm a biology student and an ubernerd Im gonna use a lot of scientific language)

"I-I'm alright!" She said with a death grip on his hair. It hurt but he's very much into it.

"Not too sensitive?" He asked with a playful tone, moving his thumb to the clit.

She gasped. "A little..."

"But you're enjoying it, right?" He pressed down, gently of course. He's not a barbarian.

"I'm going to beat you up."

"Ma'am, you are the size of my thumb."

"Didn't you say you would use your mouth for something else?"

"You're so right, I did say that." He removed his finger and licked it clean. He put her thighs back on his shoulder and gave her a little kiss on her thigh.

"You've never even kissed my mouth that many times."

"Stop complaining." He went back and licked -I already feel disgusting, I need to be thrown into jail, I want to crawl out of my skin aaaaa- the clit and she felt one of his beautiful hands caress her side. He's not doing much, but she's still a little sensitive.

She's getting used to it though, he can tell because her grip on his hair is gradually getting less painful. Her legs wrapped around his neck when he began lightly sucking on it.

If he could, he would probably make a comment about the noises she's making right now. And she wanted to keep quiet. How funny.

He pulled his hand down from her hip bone, making her get goosebumps all over. He lifted his head up and looked at her, putting two fingers into his mouth.

"Little loud, aren't you." With feather light strokes, he began working a finger into her.

"I- I'm. Yo- uuhhh." He smirked. The bastard was very happy with his work.....

"Didn't you say that we should be quiet?" (I cannot stand myself right now. I have no shame, I am a man of science who knows that there's nothing to feel bad about when it comes to sex. Yet here I am, being a little bitch about not wanting to spell out what he's doing, like I'm not already a social outcast for every other reason imaginable) Sooooo anyway, he's fingering her.

It's quite apparent that he was planning this date, since he's freshly shaven and his nails are all filled down. This is the most sexy thing anyone can do, make sure you declaw yourself before fingering someone.

"Asshole!" He chuckled and went back to using his mouth for something that she didn't find annoying. He went slower this time, because he just has to be a little mean in some way. The tease. "Y'know, you could go a little harder~"

He looked at her, she looked at him.

"Don't make me regret saying that." She said with laboured breathing. He raised his brows, inching his hand closer.

She grabbed a pillow and hugged it on her chest so she doesn't have to see his infuriatingly satisfied expression. Ugh, he's so annoying. But he's so good with his tounge.... .mmmmmMmMMmmmM *turns into a microwave* She was trying to not wake her neighbours up, but her care to do so was diminishing by the second.

"You, come here." She said after a short moment. He looked at her, puzzled. "Yeah, you." She reached down and pulled him closer by the hair. He immediately went for a sweet kiss. "Put it in, studmuffin." She spread her legs under him.

They broke out in hysterical laughter, barely keeping the noise under control. Her eyes teared up and she could barely see him in the moonlit room. He was holding his face in his hands, looking like he was in pain. Well, he was, in a way.

"Studmuffin?"

"Are you going to fuck me or not?"

"You need help, you're feral." He climbed off the bed and went to get his pants. She turned on her stomach and looked at his nicely sculpted everything as he bent over to pick it up.

"Oh yeah? Well, you need to go to jail too, you're the most jailworthy person I know. It's like we were made for each other!" He pulled something out of his back pocket. "Whass that?"

"My cigarettes." He opened the little metal box and pulled two condoms out. "Choose one."

She took the left one. "You smoke? I didn't know I was on a date with a bad boy~"

"Get over yourself." He put the box next to the wine. "Gimme." He opened it up.

"Yaay! Peebiiiis!" She grabbed her pillow and screamed into it with overflowing excitement.

"You're going to wake the whole HQ up."

"Peeebiis!..." She whisper screamed less loudly. "Could you open the bottle?" She went to grab it from the nightstand while he put the catsuit on the snake.

"You sure? You seem drunk enough... You still have socks on." She looked down and whispered 'shit' before getting them off.

"Ugh, okay." She climbed into his lap. "Alright, let's do this before i run out of courage." He put his arms around her and they kissed. The light breeze made the curtains dance and blew a chill into the room. They don't feel cold at all though.

Their hands wandered over each other, leaving phantom burns on their skin. When they were completely covered by these loving brands, they wordlessly agreed that it was time.

"You do it." She said.

"Hmm?"

"I'm lazy, I don't want to be on top." He pushed her over, he's a little rough. He's not selfish when he warms a bed, but he has an appetite still. It's not like she minds being tossed around like a toy, it kind of feels like an amusement ride.

He interlocked their fingers and began moving. He's barely thinking at this point, but the last bit of his mind he loses is the one that cares about how she feels, so he's not breaking the bed exactly.

There's nowhere to hide from his piercing gaze, she cannot cover her mouth to keep the moans from escaping. "Faster." She asked, whispering in an almost questioning tone. Like she didn't know if she really wanted or needed it... Or if he would listen.

Well, he did, making the bed whine and creak under them. "Didn't you want to keep it low?" He moved his hand to cover her mouth, she got a lot louder with the change of pace. Her now free right hand went to grip his wrist.

"Hm-hmm!" Her legs wrapped around him, holding on as hard as she could. She was a little dizzy, drunk and currently being shaken like a can of whipped cream. He grunted (like when you get hit in a video game) and slowed down.

He slowed down even more, moving his hand to her throat.

"Oh, that's kinky."

He smirked at her, she pulled him down for a kiss before continuing. He went harder, he's a bit deranged at this point. Every time she got a bit too noisy for his liking, he tightened his grip on her throat. It solved the 'problem'.

At one point her other hand was freed from his unyielding hold and she reached down to help out with the task of pleasing herself. The other one was on his shoulder, her fingers are hurting from holding on so hard.

He was methodical in his ways, as he always is. It didn't take long to get her where she wanted to be. He followed soon after. (Listen I will not write this down. I find the word 'cum' funny... I cannot be horny in these conditions)

They staid there for a few seconds, catching their breath. He let go of her neck and laid down next to her.

"Thrash bin?"

"Whu..?"

"Nevermind I see it." He threw the condom away and got a tissue from the desk. She keeps them around because she cries all the time.

"Ew."

"What, it wasn't disgusting when it was inside you just a few seconds ago?" He laid down next to her, she immediately threw her leg over him so he wouldn't try to escape.

"We should do this more."

"Alright. But next time we go somewhere without neighbours. Wanna make you scream."

"Alright... I need to pee. I'll be right back." She got up and went to find her clothes. She would kill to have her own bathroom. "Ugh, I'm so sweaty too, I need to take a shower."

"How romantic. We should have stopped at the wine if you hate being sweaty, sometimes the squeeze ain't worth the juice." They laughed. I imagine sex to be quite underwhelming as you can see.

"I should get going before sunrise." He got up and went to get dressed too.

"Where did you hide the wine?" She was done assembling her quite simple outfit and she sat down at her desk.

"Why do you ask?"

"It was cold when you opened it. I didn't know you had a whole fridge hidden somewhere."

"What's a fridge? You know what, nevermind." He bent down to kiss her before climbing on the windowsill.

"Bye asshole!"

"Bye bitch!"

She chuckled to herself as she closed the window, this was a night to remember. She went to grab her toiletries before going to the shower and noticed that he forgot his cigarette box.

Good, that means he'll come back sooner.

She left to go shower and start her day. She didn't have an ounce of sleep and she's still kind of drunk so it's gonna be interesting.

...

[mythicamagic]

Fangs of Silver: Sesskag oneshot

Summary: Kagome Higurashi has her work cut out for her, hunting one of the most elusive and powerful werewolves known to man: the Killing Perfection. Sesskag smut oneshot. Werewolf Sesshoumaru/monster hunter Kagome. 

Rated M

Words: 4,700

Read on Ao3 and Dokuga

AN: for @cookieasylum​ for an art trade. Thanks bud! Hope you like it

Fangs of Silver

Warning: werewolf x human smut, knotting, menstrual sex

---

Two fingers unfurled to touch the moonlit forest floor, tracing the outline of a large paw-print stamped into dirt. Even splaying her palm wide with four fingers and thumb outstretched, Kagome couldn't hope to meet its size, dwarfed in comparison.

"Looks like I've found you again," she muttered, straightening from her crouch. Walking onwards and listening out for any hint of movement within the imposing woods- tall anorexic trees completely still with sharp looking branches- blue eyes remained alert, watchful.

She'd been tracking this one for God knew how long now. Months. Had it been a year yet? Though even the smallest victory of finding his tracks left no time for celebration.

Kagome frowned to herself. This particular beast wasn't usually so careless. He evaded her during daylight hours by wading through streams or keeping to rocky terrain, never giving the same name when mingling with villagers. Even when the Full Moon hit- he managed to be elusive and surprisingly clever. The smartest one she'd been sent to hunt. This time he'd either been sloppy or…

Kagome glimpsed something through a gap in the lower trees, located further down the hill. Smoke?

Surely he wasn't trying to trap her with something so obvious.

Frowning, Kagome set down her weapon and snuffed out the flames of her torch, checking her supplies. Enough silver bullets. Enough jewel shards. Her guns were in good shape, but she was out of herbal supplements to repress a certain annoyance that also occurred every month. Wincing, she put a hand to her lower abdomen, feeling it cramp.

Crap, not now.

She'd have to ignore it. She couldn't afford to lose this guy due to Mother Nature kicking her continually in the gut.

This beast had committed countless acts of violence- leaving behind a trail of bodies in their respective towns and villages. Unlike usual werewolves who sloppily left bitten survivors to run amok, this beast made no mistakes. He seemed to kill specific people and left them firmly for dead. He never inflicted the curse upon anyone. Surprisingly his victims were usually reported to be less than innocent citizens.

Due to the killings- a bounty had been placed on what the authorities referred to as 'the Killing Perfection.'

Creeping down a steep incline, Kagome stepped as lightly as possible within the relative darkness of the trees -autumn leaves crunching beneath her boots.

A lonesome house in the woods stood like a mourner in a graveyard under the light of the Full Moon, dark wood faintly eroded by time. Vines held the chimney in a stranglehold, but smoke puffing out of the top revealed it to be in working order despite the dilapidated state of the house.

Slipping around the side of the building and ducking out of sight from any windows, Kagome stopped with her back to the wall, loading her rifle while stooped into a crouch.

Taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out, Kagome wasted no time. She pushed off and rounded the corner, kicking open the front door with the barrel of her gun trained inside.

Empty?

Kagome didn't let her guard down, slowly inching inside and glancing around.

The fireplace was lit with healthy flames- a kettle sat off to the side, an empty mug not too far away. Everything else in the room had a layer of dust costing it, but the armchair lay newly cleaned. Footprints trailed around the ashen floor, some human, some wolf prints.

Kagome searched the lower floor that comprised of mostly empty rooms, before pointing her gun up towards the stairs, setting foot on the first step.

It groaned loudly beneath her weight.

Wincing, blue eyes snapped to the top of the dark stairs for any tell-tale signs of movement.

Wandering up to the second floor cautiously and looking around revealed nothing more than dust bunnies.

Kagome frowned, eyeing the open window. Had he jumped down and escaped?

Sighing with disappointment, she shouldered her gun and trailed downstairs.

I suppose I can sweep the outside to pick up his trail again, but I bet he's long gone. He probably lit the chimney to distract me before making his escape and transforming for the night.

Wandering over to the kettle, she touched its side.

Still lukewarm. He'd literally just been there.

And I was too late.

Kagome groaned.

"What a disappointed noise. Were you aching to see me that badly?"

Stiffening, her heart jumped. The silky sounding words had come from behind her.

Pivoting on one heel, Kagome turned her weapon on the man lounging in the armchair.

His image blurred, snatching up her gun to lurch the barrel upwards just as she fired, the blast piercing the ceiling- some debris raining down.

Golden eyes sparked, snapping the barrel in two before throwing her to the floor with impressive strength.

Kagome gasped, back colliding hard with the wooden floors, winded. She quickly grabbed one of her pistols and trained it on the man- who had disappeared again.

"W-what?" she panted. "It's a Full Moon. Why haven't you transformed?"

"Ah, you wish for me to change? Very well," his voice rumbled from outside.

Fur blocked out the moonlight pouring in from the shutters, brushing along the side of the house. Quiet, hungry panting filled her ears.

Kagome quickly fired at the windows, but the shadows melted away, causing her to wonder if it had been a trick of the light.

"I heard tell of a woman who subdues my kind before using shards of a blessed jewel to revert them back into humans…"

Paws padded around the house, nails dragging- scraping the forest floor. "You have pursued me for some time. Did you hope to transform me into a mortal like those you have hunted before me? Break my curse?" the male uttered.

"I knew you were strong, so I didn't have much hope of using them. Taking you back alive to stand trial for all the things you've done is a tall order," Kagome grunted, lower stomach clenching. She quietly hissed. Cycle blood likely marred her trousers now.

"Indeed. Even if you shot me with one of your infamous jewels though, it would not work."

A figure bent down, twisting through the front door with the ease of a feline through bars. Sleek silver fur gleamed with a fiery hue, bathed in the hearth's orange light.

Saliva dripped from exposed canines, muzzle pulled back.

The werewolf towered over her in size. He had the look of a distorted wolf- pale torso resembling a man due to broad shoulders and defined abdomen. He shifted to stand upright, hind legs strong, capable of supporting his weight. Thick hackles rose, paws more akin to hands tipped with killer claws.

Unlike the other beasts she'd faced, this one had peculiar red markings slashing over his cheeks, lower legs and flank. Glowing red eyes burned with the heat of the sun.

"You unknowingly came in search of a Pure Blood. I cannot be 'fixed' little hunter. This is how I was born," he purred, mouth unmoving, whispering honeyed words in her mind.

Those eyes strayed down to her legs, nostrils flaring. "And you are in heat, no less. A fine time to go hunting for a predator."

Kagome shivered, raising her pistol and aiming it between his eyes.

The werewolf gazed at her calmly, completely different from the wild, almost rabid beasts she'd fought with before.

A Pure Blood…

She'd never come across a creature so ancient. He looked at her with intelligence, as she'd suspected from tracking him.

"I-I'm not in heat," she muttered, finger grazing the trigger without pulling it. Why wasn't he attacking?

"You hurt those townspeople. Why?"

"I walk among men in my other form. Occasionally I find those deserving of death. Those who harm their cubs and mates. Those who leech of their pack and drink themselves into violent stupors. Sometimes they simply get in my way."

Kagome grit her teeth, "so you dispense justice alone? I don't disagree with cruel people deserving some kind of consequences but you don't get to decide who lives and dies. That's playing God."

He chuckled inside her mind, mouth pulling back from sharp teeth in an imitation of a smile. "Is what you do so different, little hunter?"

"I follow the orders of my superiors- unless I think someone can be saved with the jewels I bless."

Interest brightened his gaze, tail swishing once behind him.

Her only warning.

The beast knocked her arms to one side, striking her down with a headbutt to her chest. The action sent her gun skittering away over dusty floorboards, disappearing into harsh shadows. One human-like forepaw pressed down on Kagome's stomach, making her breath wheeze free from frozen lungs- his other holding her right arm down to keep her pinned. He then leaned in close, white ears perked atop his head.

A white maw drifted over her startled face, nostrils flaring, inhaling her scent greedily.

"Holy powers…" he uttered thoughtfully.

Kagome's left hand fumbled with the hem of her shirt, eyes narrowing. "I'm a former sister of the church. It comes in handy when dealing with creatures that go bump in the night."

She abruptly thrust her formally concealed dagger up, aiming it straight for his heart.

Powerful jaws snapped down, locking around her arm- the beast hissing as her blade ran off course but scraped down his neck and shoulder.

Kagome yelped, dagger freezing. Her hand remained free outside of the cage of teeth but she dared not move. Teeth mouthed her arm without breaking the skin, until a particularly sharp canine made a trail of crimson leak down the inside of her wrist.

A large, wet tongue roved, licking and sliding over the length of her elbow and wrist while they lay trapped within the hot cavern of his mouth.

"Now we have both shed blood tonight, little hunter. Are you satisfied?"

Kagome panted, gritting blunt teeth. She glared hotly into large red eyes fixed on her, looming close. From the new proximity, she could now see his seafoam green irises and slit pupils from within the sea of crimson. They dilated the longer she looked.

"You are quite the woman," he rumbled appreciatively. "What name do you go by?"

"K-kagome."

"Hn, I am Sesshoumaru. I thank you for your relentless pursuit of me over these past few months. It was quite flattering."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply before a hiss broke her off. The clenching of her abdomen took up attention for a moment, twisting like a knife in her gut.

"Heat can be painful to go through alone," he acknowledged, teeth slowly easing from her arm, eyes trained on her warningly not to try anything. His slick tongue unwrapped itself from her arm with a trail of saliva. He licked his maw hungrily.

Kagome gripped her sticky arm, glaring from her position on the floor. No bite. Just a nick from his tooth. It wouldn't be enough to curse her. She warily lowered her dagger.

"It's just my monthly cycle. I'm fine...gn…"

"You seem it," he mocked, wolf expression unchanging, though his eyes danced.

His great head lowered, hovering over her groin. His nose drew closer, inhaling over the red patch. His long pink tongue slid out, drawing over it with a lingering lick.

Kagome yelped, forgetting her guns and blades- grasping the dense white fur of his neck. "W-what are you doing?!"

He managed to look suggestive without human features, tipping his head slightly. "As a hunter, it must be difficult to find relief. You are always working, are you not? Chasing evil…" his voice resounded with the finest baritone in her mind, coaxing and soothing, completely at odds with his monstrous appearance. He almost sounded aristocratic. "Fortunately...you happen to lie beneath a beast tonight."

Saliva, warm and dewy, dropped onto her leg in small puddles. Sesshoumaru gazed at her while snaking his tongue out once more, prying it harder between her legs.

Kagome gasped, back-arching, a rush spilling up from her cunt to twist sweet arousal at her core. She viciously clamped down on such a reaction, growling.

"No one gave you permission to take liberties with me, pal!" she drew her knee up, attempting to kick him away.

Sesshoumaru released her arm in favour of grasping her thigh, chuckling while forcing it down. "Why protest?"

Kagome snatched up her dagger again, pressing the hilt against her chest and keeping the point raised outwards.

"Why agree?! Y-you're a…" wide blue eyes flicked over his strange, inhuman body. "I've never- n-not with a werewolf. I'm pretty sure that's breaking some sort of rule. Or law."

"I will not tell a soul."

Her gaze turned flat, fingers shifting over the hilt. "I'm supposed to be killing you. We just tried to kill each other!"

"Hn, keep your friends close and enemies closer, as they say. Allowing them into your bed does not seem like such an extreme, and I find there is always a slight thrill in fighting, is there not?"

It was a night of firsts. Kagome had never experienced anything like it in her five years of hunting. None of her superiors had ever mentioned an intelligent werewolf who could control their transformation and shapeshift at will. The only whisper of it had come from dusty old books stashed away in catacombs. The air in the lonely house felt cold, tickling her skin like a living thing, but the space between Hunter and Werewolf crackled with intensity.

Kagome swallowed, feeling squirmy. She tensed when a wet nose came back up to sniff at her neck. Warm breath fanned over flushed skin as his snout travelled up and down, scenting. It soon buried itself within dark hair, making her gasp. The suggestion of teeth scraped the crown of her head, joined by a pleased, rumbling noise. Goosebumps rose on her exposed skin, blood burning, alight with confused but obvious need.

His alien, paw-like hand ran over her hip and breast, cupping the side of her jaw. The shock of thin fur and monstrous, long fingers tipped with claws should've terrified her. Kagome had fought against such hands for years. Her body held traces of scars where such nails had hooked and dragged into supple flesh.

As it was, when his second stroked her inner thigh, Kagome shuddered. He smelled faintly of clove and damp earth. His movements were deliberate. The inferno of his eyes when they locked with hers shone with hunger- but also curiosity. That mindfulness and clarity of his thoughts was what allowed her to hesitantly touch the hand on her thigh.

It felt too large and gangly to be a human, fur and heat brushing the calloused skin of her palm.

"You can't bite me," she warned, laying the flat of her blade against his neck. "I'll kill you if you do- and that'll instantly free me from the curse."

Sesshoumaru smiled with his eyes.

He forced her down again, claws making quick work of her pants, tearing a sizable hole at the crotch.

The wiry fur of his muzzle immediately dived down, fervently taking in her scent with hearty, eager inhales. It sent a rush of arousal straight through her, hips jolting.

Nose, teeth and tongue soon brushed her sex, before the latter thrust inside, heedless of the blood.

Kagome cried out, toes curling, going completely still. The invasive probing between her legs filled her entrance, sinking deeper. It then flicked outside, allowing her to feel the velvet rough texture. It swirled experimentally over her clit.

Shakily tightening her now slippery grip on the dagger, Kagome gasped and shuddered.

"I-I thought you were going to transform into a man-!"

Sesshoumaru gave a rumbling noise in response. He gripped the front of her blouse, yanking to rip it open and fondle her breast.

"You do not wish to see the creature you've hunted feasting on you?" the rumbling purr lifted into something darkly amused, tail flicking behind him.

He grabbed her hips, swivelling them to flip her over. Kagome yelped and snarled, about to protest when his palms kneaded her ass, raising it and tearing off the remainder of her pants- the pads of his thumbs dragging to her sex, spreading slick folds and delving a warm, thick tongue inside her all the deeper.

Kagome kept a needless grip on the dagger, a strangled noise caught in her throat. His muzzle nudged and pried, urging her to rock against his tongue. Feeling warm, she clumsily grasped at her coat, yanking her arms free and tossing it aside.

Full breasts were squashed to the floor under the weight of the werewolf as he pressed her down, but her nipples- stiff and hardened with pleasure- received friction from the steady rhythm. The pleasure came in small, electric bursts.

"Fuck," she groaned, biting her lip. This was wrong. She shouldn't allow this.

A clawed thumb rubbing at the sensitive bundle of nerves between her thighs silenced that weak protest. It felt good. So deliciously good. Men scarcely put their mouth on her down there, deeming it 'dirty' or beneath them.

Kagome shivered, pushing back against the roving tongue continually thrusting inside her core, flexibly twisting, rubbing against her inner walls and licking with heinous, grunting noises like she slaked his thirst. They found a kind of rhythm without communicating through words, and an incredible rush built in her stomach- delighted to rock against his mouth.

Bowing her head and trying to concentrate on breathing, Kagome jolted and shamelessly moaned as his movements became more relentless, hungrily collecting evidence of her arousal and cycle onto his tongue.

"W-why-?" she managed out, straining to look at him over her shoulder- the tongue plunging faster in quick delves like he were mining for gold- sharp teeth scraping her entrance, adding rapidly to the throbbing feeling building up in her lower stomach.

Why was he pleasuring her? It didn't align with a wild beasts actions.

Blue eyes glimpsed glowing crimson behind her. With a sudden push of his humanoid paw on her back, trapping her in place- Kagome squealed loudly as Sesshoumaru pried so deep he wore her like a puppet with his tongue, grunting with savage satisfaction when she came from the action.

"Agh!" Kagome cried out, body igniting, juices immediately flowing into his mouth, which he collected enthusiastically with broad strokes. Somewhere between all this, she lost grip on her weapon. The blade clanked against the floors loudly.

After pulling away, the werewolf paid no heed to the red staining his lips, licking at his jaw in a decadent, gluttonous manner.

"Why what?" Sesshoumaru sat back on his haunches, ears perking, haughtily eyeing her with an air of pride. He probably took great pleasure in reducing a hunter to such a vulnerable mess.

Kagome felt like she'd received her answer. "Never mind," she caught her breath, forehead dotted with sweat. Her muscles burned despite the lack of physical exertion, body feverishly warm.

She sat up slowly, wincing at the slick feeling of her cunt. It fluttered and clenched, demanding more- wanting to be filled.

"I feel better now. We can end things there and-"

Kagome caught an eyeful of his crotch, entranced by the hard evidence of his arousal.

Oh.

She swallowed, reading the look in his eye easily. They wouldn't be stopping anytime soon. From the look of his long, thick cock, they'd be spending a while easing it in if he were committed to pleasuring her.

Somehow she felt alright with that. The fever in her veins wasn't satisfied yet, though she had reservations about allowing a literal werewolf to take her. However something undeniable had come to life in the pit of her gut, something raw and hot that left her wet between her legs and wordlessly begging.

Sesshoumaru's claws closed around her ankle, dragging her towards him- her ass coming to meet his twitching cock.

"I do not think you have unwound nearly enough. You must expel all pent up frustrations if you are to continue hunting me. I worry you will fall behind if not- your tracking has become sloppy lately."

Kagome whipped her head up and growled- just as the head of his cock nestled at her entrance, cutting off the noise and sending it choking. Blushing, she reached behind her, spreading herself for him- holding herself open while Sesshoumaru gave that jagged flash of teeth in response, slipping his thick length inside her inch by inch.

Whimpering and dropping her hands, Kagome bowed forward, trying to adjust. He sank even deeper. The sheer slickness between her thighs helped but didn't assuage the terrible stretch that threatened to overwhelm her. He was too big, his large and hairy body towering over hers, encasing her back with the furnace heat of his body.

"Ease yourself back against me- slowly," panting breath fanned over her damp neck. She felt him run an almost affectionate feeling lick up the sensitive shell of her ear. "Relax. This body was built to withstand many things," his palm stroked a path over her navel, circling up her hip where a scar lay. "You will not allow me to dominate you so easily, will you, Kagome?"

Panting, Kagome tried to get used to feeling every inch of him inside her, filling her clenching walls to the brim.

His hands were three times the size of hers, one settling beside her on the floor. The way he loomed over her made the formally fearless woman feel small, crushable.

"H-ha! As if," she shakily replied. Not one to give in, Kagome did as instructed, slowly rocking back against him just like before. She winced. The sensation was much fuller and tighter, uncomfortable.

Sesshoumaru hissed and groaned, rubbing at her clit again to shoot tiny bursts of fireworks through her system. It helped coax some pleasure back into things. Kagome gave a shaky moan.

Sensing her change in enjoyment, the wolf began moving.

She cried out, wincing a little at his slight withdraw- before groaning as he eased back in, creating a slow, building pace.

The thick, soft fur that covered him from crown to foot gleamed in the light of the room. Kagome could feel it hot against her back, tickling her skin. The strands began to stick to flushed flesh. Sweat began to bead, rolling down her shoulder blades.

"You take me very well, for a human," Sesshoumaru nosed at her hair.

"I can't say 'taking a cock' nicely is the highest compliment ever, but- thanks," Kagome panted. He gave an amused huff, giving a hard thrust in response that knocked her forward.

Yelping, she grabbed onto the first available thing. Her breath caught when her fingers met soft, warm fur. His arm.

It felt sturdy amidst the sea of sensations. Kagome held tighter onto it, bracing herself. She could sense the control beginning to slip from her new bedmate.

Sesshoumaru growled ferally, fanning hot, sticky breath over her shoulders. He then slammed inside her- ramming his hard cock completely within.

Letting out a loud, startled cry that bordered on a scream, Kagome bit down on his arm. He set a brutal pace, thrusting his cock with a quickness that blinded her. She squeezed her eyes shut so tight stars burst behind her eyelids.

Strands of dark hair stuck to her forehead, the rest bouncing and swaying with the werewolf's chosen pace: hard and merciless.

She sank her teeth harder into Sesshoumaru's arm, but he was completely silent inside her mind now. Whatever debonair and lofty charm he possessed had been shoved far back into the recesses of his consciousness, replaced with raw primal need and heavy grunts. He sought to fuck, and Kagome found herself mewling receptively, weakly rocking back against him.

With a snarl, he yanked his arm free from her teeth- rearing back onto his haunches and dragging Kagome with him, holding her hips while continually rutting into her.

Kagome went completely speechless in both pain and pleasure. The new angle nestled onto his lap with the steel band of his arms wrapped around her waist allowed him to reach new depths.

Letting out mindless moans, she rested her head back against his furry shoulder, body ablaze, cunt squeezing him deliciously. The arms holding her prisoner forced her to meet each thrust, creating an intense friction inside that brought her into a state of begging. "P-please- more. Fuck-! More, I'm so close, please!"

Sesshoumaru gave guttural snarls and rumbles in response. But there was something strange happening with his cock. She could feel it even while held under the haze of pleasure. Nudging up against her entrance, something thicker than his length and more rounded threatened to push inside. His knot.

Kagome couldn't react- distracted by another orgasm ripping through her at the most inopportune time.

The knot swelled and stretched her sex farther than she'd anticipated. With a jolt of his hips, Sesshoumaru followed her into orgasm, throwing his head back in a deafening snarl. A torrent of cum flooded her, painting her inner walls- all locked in by the werewolf's knot.

Kagome jolted and strained, mouth opening in a wordless scream. Full. She felt too full. Her sex strained, still squeezing him like a vice.

Slowly, his voice drifted back into her head. "Very good...worthy female...powerful. Should claim..."

"S-sesshoumaru?" she croaked weakly, limp in his arms.

A silver muzzle nuzzled the side of her head in response, crooning lowly. "Hn?"

"You uh..." Kagome panted, giving a weak gesture of her wrist, trying to rise and finding it impossible. He was quite literally locked inside her. "You knotted me- shouldn't you have pulled out?"

She wasn't concerned about being pupped- she'd handled dodging pregnancy with herbal aid before. However, like this, it made moving away impossible.

"Why would this one do that?"

Blue eyes blinked, shifting up to him. His fur plastering against her skin felt like a feathery bed cushioning her spine. "Because now we're stuck, for who knows how long. A few minutes to 30. I figured you'd..."

Want to get away. Re-establish our roles as enemies.

He acted the same as always. She couldn't anticipate his movements or read him.

A sinuous tongue she'd now become intimately acquainted with slid up her cheek. The fur receded at her back, and Kagome stiffened with alarm.

When she turned slightly, she found herself gazing at the pale, handsome features of a man. His markings remained, branding him as something inhuman despite the skin, pretty fall of hair and stern sweep of his brow.

"I intend to have you many times," Sesshoumaru uttered out loud, sounding much crisper in the quiet room. "In a multitude of ways."

Kagome opened her mouth to reply, gasping when a tongue thrust inside her mouth. Grunting, she managed to return the dominating press of tongue and teeth, biting his lip for good measure and feeling him shiver.

When he began moving again while locked inside her, she fell into the murky waters of arousal once more.

-----

The morning sunlight peeking through the broken blinds brought many aches and pains with it. Kagome heard the front door shut, footsteps drawing away before falling silent.

Sitting up quickly, a fur throw fell from her shoulders. It pooled in her lap, revealing the full extent of fresh scratches and claw marks littering her nude body, along with bruises.

She winced at the stickiness between her legs. The smell of sex overwhelmed the stuffy room. So it wasn't a dream.

Noticing a steaming mug of green tea sitting before the lit fireplace loaded with newly chopped wood, Kagome tentatively reached out to touch it. Still warm.

He must've just left.

Running her hands up and down her flesh, she found no bite marks. He'd stayed true to his word.

Feeling a little complicated, Kagome blinked upon noticing a letter sitting atop a fresh change of clothes on the armchair. Her weapons were also neatly arranged nearby.

Picking up the parchment, blue eyes flitted over the message.

'Pursue me once more, my hunter. I enjoyed feasting on you.'

Kagome pressed her lips together. She shook herself a little. This was still the enemy, nothing had changed despite a thoroughly pleasurable night. In the privacy of the room however, she allowed herself a small smile.

After eating, washing and dressing for the day, Kagome stepped outside.

Securing her weapons, she gave chase.

End

[queenshelby]

The New Assistant (One Shot)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 3985

Summary: You are Cillian Murphy’s new assistant for Season 6 of Peaky Blinders.

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

Your First Day at the Peaky Blinders Set

‘Mr Murphy, I am Y/N, your new assistant’ you said as you stood 1.5 feet across from him, complying with the social distance requirements.

‘Please, just call me Cillian’ Cillian said with a smile before telling you that it is nice to meet you.

‘Sorry Mr Murphy, uhm Cillian’ you said, causing him to laugh.

‘So, here are the scripts for today and a coffee’ you said. ‘Rose told me that this is how you drink your coffee, but if you like something else just let me know’ you added.

‘Thanks Y/N, it’s perfect’ Cillian said as he took a sip and getting on with his work.

You only recently began watching Peaky Blinders as you applied for the job and you couldn’t believe that, when you met Cillian, he had as much charisma as he displayed on camera.

His piercing blue eyes and smile were almost hypnotising, yet he seemed kind and down to earth.

You noticed that he was lost in his own little world as you observed him work for the morning. It was like he transformed into Thomas Shelby and, every time he spoke to you, it took him a little while to lose his Birmingham accent.

After you accompanied him on set for five hours, he asked you whether you could prepare the scenes for the next day for him.

You drew up a schedule for him, putting together transcript for each scene. You made two copies and placed them in small folders.

You were very organised and he appreciated it.

‘Two folders? Please tell me that they are not both for me’ he said with a slight worry as he stepped back into his trailer after finishing off for the day.

‘No, just one is for you. The other one is for me. Rose said that you like to rehearse your scenes in advance’ you said before offering him to rehearse the scenes with him.

‘Yes, but I usually do this alone’ Cillian said with a smile.

‘You sure? I mean, I am not a good actor but I did take some drama classes back in high school many years ago and I could point out any mistakes with the lines as I read along’ you said with some slight laughter as you pointed at the script.

‘Well, I suppose why not. This could be fun’ Cillian said, gladly accepting your offer. After all, it was better to have some company than talking to himself in the mirror.

‘Alright let’s do it then’ you said as you sat down on the small lounge in his trailer, giving him little time to prepare.

After Cillian took 15 minutes to read the scripts, he put the folder down on the table. You couldn’t believe that he remembered the lines already.

‘Alright Y/N, Scene 7, let’s go’ he said with a cheeky smile, waiting for your acting skills to surface.

‘Thomas, you cannot be serious’ you said putting in a terribly bad Birmingham accent, causing Cillian to a have a slight chuckle. You tried very hard to stay serious.

‘You should know that I am serious Lizzie’ Cillian responded, having memorised his script, Tommy’s thick accent surfacing.

‘You are going to get us killed Thomas. But you don’t care, do you? You never cared’ you said, improving slightly in your tone.

‘When have I not cared for you Lizzie, ey?’ Cillian said before continuing on with his lines.

The script was slowly moving towards the intimate scene between Tommy and Lizzie but you were only rehearsing the words, not the actions. A shame you thought, but you knew you had to remain professional.

‘Lizzie, you need to understand that this is what I need’ Cillian said as he went on. In the script this would be where Tommy steps closer towards Lizzie, wearing nothing but his black suit pants.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, biting your lips and feeling slightly awkward as you spoke the line with such passion. Your thoughts wandered to the scene, playing it out in your head.

‘You should consider a career in acting Y/N’ Cillian smirked as he didn’t continue with the script. He became to notice that you were feeling slightly awkward.

‘I don’t think so’ you said shyly as you starred into his deep blue eyes. There was an awkward silence between you until Cillian finally spoke again.

‘Can we do this again?’ Cillian asked as he noticed that he missed a couple of words within his lines. You didn’t want to point the mistakes out to him as, in your mind, he was perfect.

You agreed to another round of rehearsals and all went smoothly the second time around until you reached the final line.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said, inhaling deeply before taking a break.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian said as he finished off the script for Scene 7, causing you to simply stare at Cillian.

‘And then Tommy gets to romp Lizzie’ Cillian said laughing before he suggested that you rehearse the next scene with him.

‘Lucky Lizzie’ you giggled just before you realised what you had just said.

‘I am not so sure, it looks pretty rough’ Cillian said as he flicked through the script.

‘Well, some women like it like this’ you said.

‘So I’ve heard’ Cillian said, not sure where this conversation was going.

‘How do you do it, acting scenes like this?’ you asked curiously, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Well, you just switch off and do it, I suppose’ Cillian chuckled.

‘You know you still missed a word here’ you said shyly. ‘Do you want to try again?’ you said, causing Cillian to nod.

Without missing a single word, Cillian acted his entire script for the scene until your line came up once again.

‘Oh trust me Tommy, I know what you need. Just fucking kiss me already’ you said.

‘You sure do Lizzie’ Cillian responded, but you weren’t finished with your script this time.

Having read on from the last time, you knew what was happening in the script. Tommy and Lizzie were getting it on but not before Tommy grabs hold of Lizzie’s throat, looking into her eyes without speaking a word. His eyes were doing the talking in the end of the scene. So, you went on, finishing Lizzie’s final line before the cut.  

‘Don’t you want to fuck me?’ you asked with your eyes full of fire.

‘What?’ Cillian asked surprised.

‘That’s Lizzie’s last line and the final line in the script for Scene 7’ you answered.

‘Right, yes’ Cillian said, blushing slightly before an awkward silence erupted once again.

‘Shall we go the next scene now?’ you asked, causing Cillian to nod.

Acting it Out

The next day, you got to watch the scene you had rehearsed with Cillian the evening before and you couldn’t help it but be amazed by his acting skills.

At the same time, you were somewhat turned on by watching him with Lizzie, roughly throwing her onto the bed before taking her from behind.

You would have loved being in her shoes for a moment, but for real.

‘I watched your scene with the script in my hand, it was perfect’ you smiled as you gave Cillian some clothes to cover his half naked body.

You couldn’t help it but gaze over his freckled chest as he stepped closer and he was sure to notice.

‘Well, I had some good practice’ he smiled, not bothered by the fact that he was half naked and that you were clearly staring at him.

‘I am always here to help Cillian’ you said as you handed him the script for the next scene.

‘Thanks Y/N’ Cillian said before getting ready for the next scene.

The day went fast and Cillian pretty much disappeared to his apartment right after the day was finished.

As you went into his trailer to get your handbag, you noticed that he left his notes.

You knew that he was going to look for them to rehearse before tomorrow and decided to drop them off to him.

You were staying at the same hotel building so it wasn’t an inconvenience.

As you arrived at the hotel, you knocked on his door and he was quick to open.

‘You left this on set’ you said as you handed Cillian his notes.

‘Thank you Y/N’ he said before taking a pause.

He noticed that you were gazing into his apartment through the open door and raised his eyebrows slightly, smiling at you. It was like his eyes were asking you what you were doing without his mouth actually moving.

‘Oh sorry, I was just trying to see what the score was. I don’t have pay tv in my room’ you said with embarrassment, pointing at the TV.

‘Uhm, right. Would you like to come in and watch the game with me? I’ll even put on a shirt’ Cillian asked with smirk.

‘You know we aren’t allowed, with social distancing and so forth’ you said.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ Cillian said with a chuckle. He knew it wouldn’t have mattered as you spent a lot of time together already.

‘Alright then, it can stay our little secret’ you said as you walked inside his studio apartment.

Cillian was quick to put on a t-shirt, although you would have preferred if he didn’t.

‘You never mentioned that you liked soccer’ he said.

‘It never came up’ you responded, still somewhat nervous by his presence, being in his apartment.

But, you soon relaxed and sat down on the lounge with him.

Cillian offered you some wine as you were watching the second half of the game.

It was a tight finish with a score of 1-0. The last goal was scored in the final 10 minutes and it was nerve wrecking.

Cillian’s team won and you couldn’t help it but be a little disappointed as you were cheering for the opposite team.

‘Tomorrow is going to be a busy day’ you said as the game had finished, not knowing what else to say.

‘Yes, I am not looking forward to it’ Cillian said leaning forward to pour some more wine, cringing a bit as he moved.

‘Are you alright?’ you asked as you noticed that he seemed uncomfortable as he leaned forward.

‘Yes, I just hurt my back earlier during one of the scenes’ Cillian said.

‘Where does it hurt?’ you asked as you began tapping over his back, causing Cillian to look at you with surprise.

‘Oh god sorry’ you said, removing your hands quickly. ‘Bad habit’ you were quick to say.

‘Bad habit ey?’ Cillian asked with a smile.

‘Before COVID I was a physiotherapy student’ you explained. ‘I like to fix people’ you added with a laugh.

‘Right’ Cillian responded with a warm smile.

‘Would you like me to take a look and see if I can fix the pain?’ you asked.

‘Now that would defiantly break social distancing requirements’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you said with grin on your face, causing Cillian to laugh.

‘Alright then, give it a crack’ he said.

‘Take off your shirt’ you said, causing Cillian to raise his eyebrows again before obliging with your request. It wasn’t like you hadn’t already seen him half naked.

You climbed behind him and couldn’t help but stare at his freckled skin again as you began to run your hands over his back, pressing hard on several trigger points until he eventually cringed.

‘Is that where it hurts?’ you asked.

‘Yes, fuck’ he said after you pressed down on the area harshly.

‘Sorry, but this might hurt a little’ you said while beginning to massage the area.

After about two minutes, the pain subsided but Cillian didn’t think to tell you. Instead, he let you continue with the movements. He began to enjoy the massage you were giving him.

‘That feels better’ you said, noticing the tension in his back disappearing slowly.

‘It does, but I don’t think I want you to stop now’ Cillian said jokingly.

‘I can keep going, if you like’ you said, moving your hands to other regions of his back while breathing in the sweet scent of his aftershave.

As your hands moved to his shoulders and over, slightly towards his chest, Cillian could feel a tingling sensation emerging in between his legs.

Hoping that you wouldn’t notice what was building up in between his legs, he placed his t-shirt across them, hiding his emerging erection.  

As you continued the massage for a few more minutes and he noticed that his erection would not go back down, he felt the need to tell you to stop, but he couldn’t bring it across his lips. It felt too nice and pleasurable.

Your hands were roaming across his back, up and down and you began to notice his breathing getting heavier.

As your hands suddenly stopped on his lower back he looked back over his shoulder, not realising that this was exactly where your face was at this moment.

His blue eyes gazed into yours for a moment as there was an awkward silence between you.

As you starred at him, your hands moved up again, causing him to breath in heavily once more.

In that moment, with your hands still wandering up his back, you leaned forward in sixty-degree angle, pressing your chest against his back and brushing his lips with yours.

Cillian gave into the kiss, turning around slightly to caress your face and pull you closer towards him. The kiss was intensifying and became more urgent with every moment.

‘I think all of the social distancing is out of the window now’ Cillian chuckled as your lips drifted apart and you climbed away from behind him.

Within just seconds, you pulled your t-shirt over your head and climbed onto his lap with one leg placed on each side of him before leaning in for another kiss.

Cillian ran his hands over your back as you exchanged a passionate kiss and you could feel his erection beneath you.

‘Let’s take our rehearsals a bit further, shall we?’ you said in between kisses as you grinded yourself against him.

‘We shouldn’t, you are my assistant’ Cillian responded while running his hands over your breasts, without any intention of stopping.

‘I won’t tell if you don’t’ you giggled as you stood up, taking off your jeans as well and letting them drop to the floor.

Cillian gazed over your body, taking in everything and admiring your curves.

‘I suppose it can stay our little secret, although I think it’s a bad idea Y/N’ Cillian said as he stood up in front of you, pressing his lips against yours while you reached for the zipper of his jeans.  

‘I think it’s a great idea. We both want this and need to get it out of our systems so that we can work well together. Despite, you are stressed, let me be a good assistant and relief that stress of yours’ you smirked as your hand ran beneath his briefs, taking hold of his erect cock.

Without responding to your comment, he pressed his lips onto yours again before guiding you backwards towards his bed.  

‘If I'd have known we'd be doing this I wouldn't have worn this’ you added, looking down at the underwear.

Cillian grabbed your chin lightly and pressed his lips to yours for a short moment.

‘It’s coming off anyway’ he winked at you before reaching behind you to unclip your bra. His gaze dropping to your small but perky breasts.

He took them in his hands grabbing onto them gently before pushing you onto the bed.

Next his hands went to your panties and pulled them down your legs and before you knew it you were laying on his bed completely naked and Cillian’s deep blue eyes devoured you.

You didn't feel self-conscious like you usually would because you could tell from that look in his eyes and his facial expression that he clearly liked what he saw.

Cillian’s eyes locked on yours as you sat up against the pillows and his fingers went into his waist band pulling down his briefs.

His erection stood proudly pointing at you and you weren’t disappointed with that either, he sure was packing down there!

He climbed onto the bed and pulled your legs apart, kneeling in between.

‘Is it bad that I’ve been fantasising about this?’ Cillian asked, still gazing over your naked body.

‘No. I've wanted this too’ you admitted, your eyes fixated on his hand moving up and down that cock of his.

‘I always had to touch myself whenever I went to bed because I wanted you so much’ you said.

‘Show me’ he breathed out, your eyes closing at his words and then opening as your hand slid down your body and stroked through your already damp folds.

He groaned as you pushed two fingers into your wetness.

With a quickness you had never witnessed before he grabbed a hold of your wrist and raised your fingers to his mouth, his eyes closing as his full lips wrap around your fingers sucking off your juices.

He then grabbed onto your other wrist and pinned them both above your head as he leaned down and ran kisses over your breasts and trailing them all the way down to your wet folds.

His hand went in between your legs, instantly finding your clit. He began to rub it, in small slow circles while his tongue ran through your wetness.

‘Fuck, Cillian’ you moaned as your hands reached down and grabbed onto his shoulders.

His movements became quicker and he increased the pressure, pressing down harder and harder. He then replaced his finger with his tongue on your clit as he shoved two fingers inside you, pumping them slowly in and out.

‘You're so fucking wet Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his eyes never leaving yours.

His fingers soon curled upwards against your g-spot as he continued to pump them in and out of you.

You gasped out at the sensation and could feel yourself racing towards your first orgasm of the night and you had a sneaky feeling that it most definitely wouldn't be the last.

As his force and speed increased so did your moans and you reached down and gripped his hair, pulling on it.

‘That’s it, oh god’ you moaned loudly as your walls began clenching around your fingers while your orgasm washed over you.

Cillian slowed down the finger action and let go of your clit then wickedly flicked his tongue against it once more making you flinch.

He grinned at you as he moved up your body and then took your mouth in a deep kiss.

You shoved your tongue into his mouth, tasting your own arousal and then somehow flipped him over so you were straddling his hips.

You tasted the skin of his neck. Then you made your way down that freckled chest, gently biting his left nipple on the way down.

You licked at his toned abs and then reached that hard as steel erection that was already oozing precum. His breathing was becoming deeper as you encircled your hand around him and pumped a couple times before flicking your tongue against the head.

‘Fuck’ Cillian moaned as his hand reached for your hair while you began bopping up and down his shaft.

You enjoyed the taste of his precum as you continued your movements for several moments while using your fingers to play with his balls.

He loved every moment of it but, after a while, had to ask you to stop for obvious reasons.

You obliged. You wanted him inside of you badly.

Cillian then reached for the bedside table, grabbing a condom from the draw and putting into his hard cock.

Before he could change position you climbed on top of him.

‘No need to be gentle, I like it just like Lizzie does’ you smirked, causing his eyes to roll into the back of his head as your pussy slid over his hard cock and you guided it inside of you.

You were unbelievably tight causing Cillian to moan out load on that first stroke.

Your hands were resting on his chest as you slowly raised yourself up and then dropped back down over and over teasing him to the point where his hands were digging into your thighs.

You began to quicken your pace, riding him faster and faster.

Cillian held onto your hips as he thrust his up to your stroke by stroke unknowingly getting faster until he was holding you up and thrusting into you so hard and fast that you were crying out his name.

It was obvious to you that he also liked it rough and, as soon as your walls began to contract around him, he flipped you over onto your back.

He wanted to take control and you were absolutely fine with that.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he continued to thrust into your tight hole for several more minutes.

Unhooking your legs from around him, Cillian leaned up and rested them over his shoulders before increasing his pace.

His hand reached down and began rubbing your swollen clit, making you cry out once again continuously.

‘Oh god yes’ you moaned as you were so close again.

Just as your walls began tightening around his hard cock, he pulled out of you.

‘Not yet’ he smirked before he told you to get on your hands and knees.

‘Please Cillian, just fuck me’ you pleaded as he was tasing your entrance with his hard cock from behind you.

‘As you wish’ he said as, all of a sudden, with one deep thrust, he buried himself inside of you again.

You cried out as he entered you and his thrusting was slowing down for a moment as he pushed his hips into you as deep as humanly possible.

The thrust was hard and deep, but he soon picked up pace again.

‘Oh god yes. Fuck me hard’ you groaned out into the pillow beneath you.

That was all he needed to hear, his hips slamming into you harshly as you pushed your back.

Second later, remembering the scene between Tommy and Lizzie, he grabbed a handful of your silky hair and pulled on it, making you arch your back as he fucked you from behind.

‘Yes, don’t stop’ you moaned as his speed picked up more and more with each thrust.

‘Fuck Y/N’ Cillian groaned, his hands regaining their grip on your waist.

‘Oh my god Cillian’ you moaned, your voice muffled by the pillow and your walls tightening around his cock.

Your orgasm came running over you like a speed train as you screamed loudly, sending Cillian over the edge also.

Within seconds of your own orgasm, Cillian found his release, his thrusts slowing down as he rode out his orgasm.

‘Fuck’ was all he managed to say as he pulled out of you and disposed the condom filled with his sweet cum.

You were still huffing, your body limb just as he collapsed next to you.

‘Feeling better now?’ you grinned.

‘Yes actually’ he smiled before giving you a quick kiss.

After you spent about ten minutes curled up with each other it was time for you to leave. After all, you both had a busy day ahead.

‘So, just let me know if you ever need some more stress relief’ you smirked as you said goodnight.

[fandomlovingfreak]

Glacial Passion (3/?)

Regulus Black/Reader

Rating: Lemon, 18+

Trigger Warning: Arranged Marriage, talk of potential pregnancy

Word Count: 2461

MasterList Link I AO3 Link I Wattpad Link

Summary: Glacial, cold, icy… all words that described Regulus Black’s grey eyes. Was there truly no emotion behind those eyes, or did a caring man exist beneath? Could she defrost those glacial eyes?

Disclaimer: Regulus Black (Walburga Black, Orion Black, and Sirius Black) is a character from Harry Potter by J.K. Rowling. Reader or y/n is not owned by Rowling. This work has not been created for profit or financial compensation, and is a transformative fair use work in accordance with Section 107 of the United States Copyright Act.

Notes: Chapter three! I thought this entire fic would be around three chapters, but we're not even close to done yet!

Enjoy

The guest room isn't so bad. He becomes very acquainted with the unused room as his wife had elected to ignore him for the foreseeable future.

After the fourth night that he'd slept and attended meals with his parents without (y/n), Walburga brings up the absence of his wife in her own  special way . "You cannot sleep in a different room than your wife."

Regulus holds back from rolling his eyes, "you and father do not share a bedroom."

Walburga's ever-present frown deepens, "We already have a son."

Even after all these years, he hates that she pretends Sirius never existed.

"So this is about sex," he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

"It is."

"These things don't happen overnight."

"They don't happen if you do not participate in the happening," Walburga taps her manicured fingernails on the table. 

"What do you want me to do? I can't force her to sleep with me." Besides, if they did continue to have sex, he will unquestionably use contraceptive charms to ensure his wife did not conceive. 

Walburga studies his face, "If you do not try, you will not see success."

In an attempt to change the subject, he blurts out, "She is miserable here--"

"She will be content soon. Once she has the first child."

Orion takes this opportunity to speak up, "possibly you should take your new wife out of the country."

"Out of the country?" Regulus frowns.

"Take her out of this house on your honeymoon. Maybe visit Paris. It couldn't hurt after the past few days."

Honeymoon... he was hoping that he could avoid taking (y/n) on one of those. But, if Orion thinks this could make (y/n) happy... well, he supposes he can sacrifice the time.

***

Walburga catches him before he can make his way out of the dining room. 

"You must not cast those charms any longer."

Regulus would rather his mother not tell him he can and cannot use contraceptives... 

"Who says I did?"

Walburga squints angrily, "Next time you do your duty as the next Master of the house, make sure you give your seed time to take hold within your wife."

He draws his lips into a tight line, turning to leave the conversation before it became any more invasive.

No promises would be made to his mother or anyone else over the use of contraceptive charm. There was no need for a child in this present time. Things of that nature could wait.

***

"What are you doing here?" (y/n) asks when he walks into their shared bedroom.

"It's nice to see you too, wife."

She rolls her eyes, turning back to her novel.

"You were not at dinner tonight." Regulus unbuttons the top of his shirt.

"I wasn't hungry," she says without looking up from the book.

Regulus continues to undress, removing the cufflinks from his dress shirt. 

"Mother was wondering where you were."

"I'm sure she was."

He watches her for a moment. "We will be leaving soon."

(y/n) looks at him confused, "Who will?"

"You and I."

"Leaving where?"

"On our... honeymoon."

"What do you mean?"

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, "I'm taking you to Paris on our honeymoon."

"Honeymoon..." (y/n) looks like she's contemplating giving him a  flat-out   no.

"I can tell you are tired of the house. The apartments I've secured are much  lighter  than Grimmauld Place. Moreover, it has an excellent view of the city."

"I don't know..."

Regulus steps forwards, taking her hand in his. "Just spare two weeks at the least." The pad of his thumb rubs underneath the ring on her left hand. He's secretly pleased to see she has not taken it off despite the state of their relationship currently.

"Regulus," (y/n) tries to move away from him.

"Please," he breathes out the word, "please, I'm trying."

(y/n) analyzes his face, "what would we do in Paris?"

"I could think of many things we could do."

She doesn't respond to his suggestive words.

"Is that a yes?"

"I'll think about it."

"We're leaving tomorrow. I've already made the arrangements."

"You can't just-- just--"

"I thought you'd be happy to get out of the house."

She sighs, her fingers worrying the dark fabric of her skirts, "Ok."

"Excellent," he brings her hand up to his lips, "I look forward to sharing your bed again, Mistress Black."

***

Dressed in a violet dress, I stick out, standing next to my in-laws and husband. Which is fine by me. I rather stick out than look like I'm a part of a funeral precession  every damned day .

"Are you ready?" Regulus holds his arm out to me.

I gently place my arm on his, nodding.

"Owl, if you decide to stay longer than planned," Orion looks to his son first than to me. He's got a small smile on his lips. I smile back politely.

"Naturally," Regulus says before apparating us away from the house.

I hate apparition. Hate it with my entire being. Squeezing my eyes shut tightly doesn't stop the uncomfortable movement of tumbling through time and space.

When I'm able to open my eyes, my fingers gripping Regulus's arm uncomfortably tight, I'm met with the sight of a large brick building.

"Are you okay?" Regulus steps in front of me. Cupping my face, he looks at me with concern.

I open my lips slightly, trying to find the words despite my churning stomach, "I just-- I just need a moment."

He nods, not letting go of my face. Then, almost absentmindedly, his thumb brushes against my cheek.

"I'm fine now. Where are we?" I squeak out, trying to distract him from continuing to touch my face like so.

Regulus snaps out of whatever was happening between us, his hands dropping from my face as he turns to look up at the building. 

"This is where we will be staying." He hesitates for a moment before gently grasping my hand in his, "Do you mind?"

I shake my head no.

"Let me show you the apartment." Regulus helps me up the three steps of the building before holding the door open. He motions towards the staircase, placing his hand on the small of my back as we walk up the large staircase.

Regulus unlocks the heavy wooden door, pushing it open for me.

The sunshine in this room shines brighter than in Grimmauld Place. Probably due to the airy curtains and the creamy champagne color that the walls are painted.

It's a complete contrast to the rooms we share at Grimmauld Place. 

"What do you think?" Regulus gently pulls me into the room.

I turn to admire the white comforter of the bed, running my fingers against the soft material. 

"It's beautiful."

Turning, I catch Regulus's eye. He's leaning against the dresser, watching me intently.

I bite the inside of my cheek, "What are you looking at?" 

"Am I not allowed to look at my wife?"

"Obviously, you are. If looking is all that is on your mind."

He actually smiles, looking down at the ground momentarily, " we are  on our honeymoon."

Rolling my eyes, I begin to walk past him towards the bathroom. However, Regulus's fingers wrap around my wrist, preventing me from exiting the conversation.

"Regulus--" I find myself in his arms, his fingers tilting my chin towards him. Even as I despise the way he's dragged me into his arms, I can't say I hate the feeling of his body pressed against mine.

"Do you want this?" I hate that he's so diligent with asking for consent before he kissed me or initiated any--  activities . It would be so much easier to hate him if he was a beast of a man.

My contemplation of his question only lasts a few seconds before I lean up to kiss him.

Regulus makes a sound of surprise but quickly regains the dominance, his hands cupping my face. 

Slowly, he begins to back us up towards the bed, pulling me onto his lap as he sits down on the white comforter. 

"No," I pull away from the kiss, still straddling his thighs.

Regulus's lips are red as he looks at me confused, "You don't--?"

I shake my head, "I'm starving."

He smiles, tucking a flyaway hair back behind my ear, "We'll find you some food then."

***

(y/n) sips her tea. She hasn't spoken a word to him since he brought her to the wizard cafe.

"How is your food?"

She sets her tea down, "good."

Regulus strums his fingers against the table.

"Did you want something, Regulus?"

"Not particularly. Are you ready to get back?"

"Why are you so eager to get back?" Her smile is small, almost teasing.

"'m not eager..." Regulus frowns, straightening the lapel of his jacket.

"You've hardly touched your food," she looks pointedly towards his plate.

Regulus looks down as well, "I don't find myself quite as famished from our traveling, wife."

(y/n) rolls her eyes at his comment, "For your information, Regulus, I had to skip breakfast to pack for an impromptu trip my husband sprung upon me."

"I could have easily bought you a whole new wardrobe here if breakfast mattered to you that much."

"That would have been a waste--"

He chuckles, "money is not an issue for us, darling. You may have anything you desire simply by asking for it."

(y/n) bites the inside of her cheek, "Just because it is easily obtained does not mean it is not wasteful to live like this."

Regulus bites the inside of his cheek, looking away from (y/n). 

***

Lounging on the bed, he watches her. The chiffon robe she wears leaves little to the imagination as she walks by the open window. Regulus is certain she'd be mortified to find out it's nearly transparent when the morning light hits the fabric. He's enjoying the show, but he hates that anyone outside could see her.

"(y/n)," Regulus stretches his arms above his head.

"Yes?" She turns, the fabric of the robe shifting.

"Come here, please."

She frowns, hands coming to her waist, "why?"

He shifts on the bed, "because you're walking by the window  practically naked."

(y/n) crosses her arms across her chest, "Regulus!"

A small smile tugs at his lips, "Come here, darling."

She slowly makes her way to the bed. Regulus tugs her down to the bed, caging her in with his arms before she can make a noise. (y/n) looks up at him, the robe revealing her beautiful body.

Regulus trails his fingers down her neck towards her breast. Then, rolling her nipple between his fingers, he watches keenly at the way the nub hardened under his touch.

"Reg--"

He cuts her off, "do you want this?"

Her mouth opens and closes before she replies, "yes."

Regulus ducks down, kissing her deeply. He presses his rapidly hardening cock against her thigh.

"Have to be quick," he shoves his sleep pants down enough to free his cock.

"Why? What do we have to do today?"

He chuckles, "nothing that can't be pushed back. Do you want slow then Mistress Black?" Regulus's fingers drag down her jaw, fingers gently angling her face towards his.

(y/n) frowns back, "I--"

"You don't have to be embarrassed. I can make you squirm under me for however long you desire."

Slowly, he pulls the string of her robe loose, the material exposing her torso completely to his gaze.

"Is that what you want, darling?" He spreads her thighs so he can kneel between them.

Her mouth is parted slightly, chest heaving as she watches him drag his cock up and down her slit. 

"Please--"

"Such a good girl." Regulus inches in, entranced by the way her body welcomes him.

(y/n)'s fingers pull at his hair as he bottoms out, "Merlin--!"

"Not my name," he slowly pulls out before thrusting in hard.

(y/n) snorts, "was that a joke? Did you just make a--" he thrusts in again, "a joke?"

Regulus smiles down at his wife, "possibly."

He doesn't expect her to giggle, and he especially does not expect his stomach flip-flopping at the sound of that giggle. To distract himself from this onrush of new emotion, he leans down, kissing her with feverish passion. The softness of her lips, the way her tongue moves shyly in an almost submissive manner with his, and the way she completely surrenders herself to his kiss doesn't help him as the sudden adoration he feels for this woman continues to skyrocket. Love isn't the word. Love maybe would never be the word, but he feels like when they express passion through their sexual encounters, he maybe could be feeling something  like love . 

"Oh, Regulus," (y/n) moves her hips in time with his, the push and pull of their lovemaking intoxicating.

His fingers move to play with her clit, rolling the bundle of nerves and making her squirm underneath him. The way she grinds her hips hard against him with each skilled movement of his hands on her delicate flesh feels magnificent. She's breathtaking, and he can't even find the words to tell her how--  how much he enjoys this. 

Maybe enjoys it more than he's ever enjoyed it before.

"Don't stop," (y/n) whimpers.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he ducks down to kiss her as he pushes her over the edge. The feeling of her pulsing around him propels him towards his own release.

"Merlin--" He continues to thrust shallowly, burrowing his face in her neck. (y/n)'s fingers move tenderly across his back and shoulders as he comes down from his high. Regulus could stay like this forever.

"Are you going to--?" Her voice breaks his small paradise.

He frowns, "yes."

(y/n) stares at him before pushing his shoulders lightly until he pulls out, landing on the other side of the bed. "If you're going to do it, do it now. I want to take a bath."

He has a feeling the bath has something to do with washing away any trace of what they just did. Nevertheless, he does as she asks, wandlessly casting the charm.

***

After ignoring him for the rest of the morning and afternoon, reading on the sunny balcony, she appears to be in a better mood when he comes to get her for dinner. 

"Do you wish to get dinner with me?"

(y/n) softly closes the worn novel before looking up at him. Her face is sweet, lacking any of the anger it held earlier when they quarreled. 

"I would."

Regulus expects her to continue the conversation. Instead, she walks by him without another word. Placing his hands on the balcony's railing, Regulus looks out towards the city. The chaos of the muggles and their  cars  feels an awful lot like the current feeling in his head.

[lucifer-is-a-bag-of-dicks]

They sat across from each other in the hallway, the sound of Maddie Fenton's shouting was muffled through the door of the principal's office.

Wes leaned back with his arms crossed as Walter Weston's voice broke through the noise, issuing an attempt at an apology that seemed to fall on deaf ears as the yelling continued.

"Your son might think it's just some funny joke, but I will not have anyone accusing my son of being that lying, manipulative, piece of ectoplasmic scum!"

Danny sank lower in his chair, face tightening with every word.

"You know they wouldn't say that stuff if they knew the truth." said Wes, cutting into the tense air between them.

Danny's head thumped back against the wall as he rolled his eyes.

"You cannot possibly be that fucking dense." Danny's voice was strained with frustration.

Wes felt heat flood into his cheeks as his chest coiled with anger.

"Well it's true." he spat. "They wouldn't think Phantom's a monster if they knew he was you."

Danny's nose wrinkled in an expression of mild disgust.

"For the most observant guy in school you are unbelievably blind."

"Oh I'm blind?" the squeak of Wes' sneakers echoed down the empty hall as he stood over the other boy. "You're the one who can't see how much easier your life would be if you just told everyone who you really are. But no, you have to keep it this big secret just so you can feel special, because you just wanna keep playing superhero."

He jabbed a finger in Danny's face as vibrant blue eyes glared up at him through dark bangs.

"You're choosing to get detention for missing classes, you're choosing to get beaten up by Dash all the time. You're choosing to be the least popular guy in school when you could turn it all around overnight if you wanted. You're choosing to listen to your parents talk shit about you-"

Danny's fist didn't race up to grab Wes by the collar, Wes simply blinked and cold fingers were suddenly curled around the neck of his basketball uniform.

"Have you even remotely considered that telling the professional ghost hunters that I live with that I'm part ghost might not be the best idea? My mom is literally yelling about how much they want to tear me open right now."

Wes couldn't help but notice that that was, in fact, exactly what she was currently yelling about.

"They wouldn't do that." Wes scoffed, batting Danny's hand away, it was like hitting a marble statue that only decided to move out of politeness. "They're your parents, they wouldn't hurt you."

"Are you sure about that?" Danny asked, Wes wasn't exactly sure when he got up from his chair, but they were standing face to face now. "Would you bet your life on it?"

Wes suddenly felt rather cold, but he refused to let Danny see him flustered.

"No, but I wouldn't go around betting my life on anything," Wes smoothed the wrinkles out of his shirt collar. "That's just stupid."

"Then why," Danny grit his teeth hard, "Are you so comfortable betting mine."

Wes opened his mouth to retort but suddenly found himself at a loss for words as Danny's question sank in and the cold chill in the room ran sharply down his spine.

They wouldn't really hurt him. He was sure of it, they were his parents. They would never, he was sure.

Would he bet his life on it?

"There's about three things that can happen if I tell my parents." said Danny, wandering slightly down the hall, looking down at his shoes. "One, they believe me, they put aside an entire lifetime of prejudice and accept me for who I am, hooray!" he shook his hands in a rather sarcastic gesture of mock celebration.

"Two!" he continued before Wes could interject. "They believe me, but they think of Phantom as some kind of disease, something that should be gotten rid of, something they can cure."

He turned on his heel to face Wes once again, holding up three fingers.

"Three... they don't believe me. They think Phantom is controlling me, or he's killed me and taken my place, that this is just some evil plot to manipulate them. They try to kill me."

Danny shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked at a piece of rubbish on the floor.

"Which means I only have a one in three chance of things going okay, and that's being generous and ignoring all of the other things that could go wrong. I don't like those odds, Wes."

Wes swallowed hard. He hadn't thought of it like that, he hadn't even considered it at all, but one in three? That didn't seem right.

"What do you mean one in three?" Wes asked, "Only one of those was really bad, what's wrong with them finding a cure? You hate being Phantom."

Danny looked up at him with a surprised expression, before frowning hard.

"I don't hate being Phantom, and it wouldn't matter if I did. Phantom is a part of me, I can't get rid if it. The last time I managed to split my ghost half from my human half it took half of my personality with it, and if I'd stayed that way for too long both sides of me would have died, for good."

"You don't know that it's impossible." said Wes, refusing to back down out of pure stubbornness at this point, even though the conversation was leaving a sour taste in his mouth. "Your parents are geniuses, if anyone could figure it out they could."

"Wes," Danny rubbed a hand over his face, looking very tired. "I asked the most powerful omniscient ghost I know if it was possible, there isn't a single timeline where I survive a permanent split. It can't be done, and I don't want it to be done."

"But why?!" Wes' arms opened in a desperately questioning gesture. "You don't even use it for anything! All you do is fight ghosts and lie to everyone! Why would you want that?!"

"It doesn't matter why." Danny hissed. "This is my life, my body. I get to choose what I do with it, and I should get to choose who I tell about it instead of having some selfish prick outing me to everyone without warning!"

"He WHAT?!"

The boys both turned around to find Mrs Fenton and Mr Weston standing in the doorway to the office. Maddie had a hand over her mouth, and Walter's jaw was hanging from his head.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Walter asked.

"Yes! Finally! Dad he's-"

"You outed him?" Walter grabbed Wes by the shirt and marched him down the hallway. "You can't just do that sort of thing with someone's personal life! The ghost thing is bad enough but this-"

"What?" Wes' eyes widened as he realised what his dad was saying, "Wait, no! That's not what we were talking about-"

"We are going to have a very serious talk about this." Walter turned around, still shoving Wes ahead of him. "Mrs Fenton, Danny. I am so, so sorry about this, all of this."

Maddie slipped a hand over Danny's shoulder and squeezed as the Westons disappeared down the hall.

"Did he really tell everyone about that too?" Maddie asked in a dark tone. "If anything happens to you because of this I'll-"

"It's fine mom, it's fine." Danny assured her. "It doesn't matter what he says. Nobody ever believes him anyway."

He really hoped Wes learned something from that conversation, but somehow he doubted it would change anything.