#Black Hoods MC | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

flowerbetweenfangs · 5 months

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Cream Filling: Chapter One

Warning: Use of drugs and dubcon.

(MC is dosed with an aphrodisiac and is all too willing... But you know)

This was originally posted on A03 and is my most popular work, so I thought I'd put it here.

I hope you enjoy.

Lightning flashed overhead, lighting up pitch black streets for an instant. Elle Shepard nearly slipped on a horribly placed patch of mud. Windmilling, she caught a streetlight and came to a stop. A crack of thunder made her let go. Another bolt struck, enveloping the buildings and pavement in a brightness that was almost blinding, before a loud boom shook the windows.

Finally, she came upon a neon sign, showing a drink being shaken, then poured into a martini glass. The glass then changed to a coffee mug, the shaker into a pitcher. The words read: Ramses Brew, Bar and Café.

Pushing open the door, Elle stepped inside and pulled down the hood of her raincoat. Closing her umbrella, she stuck it in the container with the rest. Music played, pool balls cracked, conversations blurred together in one continuous hum. A bartender passed out drinks, moving with inhuman speed.

Walking up to the bar, Elle took a seat on the stool near the end. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a stack of papers and set them on the polished wood.

“What will it-” The bartender flinched at her, their nostrils flaring. Their voice sounded like many people talking at once.

“Oh, you’re the human.” They reached into their pocket and pulled out a phone. Tapping on the screen, they sent a quick message and put it away. They dropped their voice and leaned in closer to her. “Sorry, our drinks are a little too strong for your kind.”

They were most likely a demon, with horizontal lined pupils and a pair of antlers. Their sunken face showed a skeletal structure that was more deer than human, with a slight brown fuzz instead of fur. Their hands were coal black, their fingers tapering off to a clawed end.

“Can I just have water?” She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry, her heart fluttering. Focus! The job was more important than a one night stand.

“Of course.” They bowed their head, before going to a new arrival at the bar.

Sighing, Elle debated pulling her hood back up when she felt the eyes on her. No, she’d have to get used to the stares if she wanted to get this job. A human woman, with dark hair and hazel eyes, wearing dress pants and a button up peach blouse. No horns, fangs, scales, or a tail. Not even markings that would signal she was a mage or tied to someone with magic.

Swinging her leg back and forth, Elle sipped at her water, looking around the bar. There was a pair of trolls playing pool. A pair of drow were in the corner, looking like they were discussing more… Intimate plans. A human looking man sat on the couch, a cane between his legs. A spread of cards were on the table in front of him, small black wisps curling around them. He seemed to be the shortest occupant, he was probably a head and shoulders taller than her.

“Ms. Elodie Shepard?” The voice made her turn.

An angular face stared at her. It was human in appearance, but black scales appeared like freckles, shimmering in the low light. A pair of ram horns curled around cheeks, the ends sharpened and looking ready to puncture anything that got near them. He was dressed in a white button up shirt and a red vest, with a black tie. He was young, appearing to only be in his early to mid 30s.

“Yes!” Elle held out her hand. The speaker took it in shimmering black hands that were very large compared to his body. They left a residue on her skin that she tried to discreetly wipe off when he turned around, looking at the loft above. "But please, call me Elle."

“Let’s go talk more privately.” He walked to the bottom of the stairs, unclipping a chain that indicated the area was closed until the morning.

Elle nodded and followed him. Stepping aside, he allowed her to go first and clipped the sign back in place. Once the links were formed, a small bit of magic rumbled through the floor, making Elle’s knees weak. Gripping the handrail, she kept herself from falling and quickly climbed up.

Once they were in the loft, Ramses clapped his hands and a few candles lit. The light was warm and calming. There were a few couches set up, with a coffee table between each pair facing one another.

Taking a seat, Elle set her papers on the table and cleared her throat. Even with the water, there was still a tickle in her throat.

“Alright,” The man sat down. “So, as you may know, this is my business. Ramses Sesbrun.” He pushed his glasses up his nose. “I appreciate you coming out so late, but since demons don’t do so well in sunlight…” He shook his hand back and forth like he was tipping a scale. “I still have a limited staff, so I don’t have much of a day shift.”

Elle nodded. “It’s fine. I’ve got this.” She reached into her shirt and pulled out a silver chain, with wire wrapped around an obsidian stone.

Ramses flinched at the charm, before clearing his throat. Elle quickly stuffed it into her shirt and shuffled her papers.

“Alright. So as you may have noticed, we have a bit of a uniform.” He gestured to his attire. “It doesn’t matter if you prefer skirts or pants, just make sure it’s got a white button up shirt under your apron and a tie or scarf.” Inhaling sharply, he adjusted his glasses again. “We have a very diverse staff. If you do get the job, expect to work with all kinds of people.”

Elle simply nodded. “I know it is probably a strange thing, getting a human to apply.” The thought of being around so many demons and patrons of the “other side”, it was somewhat exhilarating.

“A little. But your safety is promised here,” Ramses insisted. “I’ll do what I can to make sure that you and your fellow employees are comfortable in this environment. Everyone here is just looking for a place to unwind.” He smiled at her, showing his teeth were fangs.

Shifting uncomfortably, Elle gave a smile. Those fangs looked like they could leave some decent hickeys. Wait, no, she had to remain professional. “Erm, not to sound too forward, but the job posting mentioned pay?” Right. Stay professional.

“Oh, right.” Ramses picked up a staff of his own papers from a table next to the couch. Flipping through the stack, he left small black thumbprints on each page. No wonder he needed help with the kitchen and other places. He probably couldn’t even touch the food he served his customers.

Finally, he stopped at what he was looking for. “I know the pay is high, but that means I’ll be expecting more from you. But if what I’ve heard about humans is correct…” His cheeks flushed. “Sorry. I don’t mean to rely on stereotypes, but I know humans are known for getting things done faster.” He clicked his mouth closed, not wanting to insert his foot into his mouth.

“Then you’ll be happy to know I fall into that!” Elle said quickly, hoping her tone didn’t sound too desperate. “I promise I’ll be fast and get the work done!” She clasped her hands together. “I just really… Need a job.” A job that seemed to offer a lot of eye candy...

Ramses nodded, taking her papers and flipping through them. “I’ve already read what you sent me, but I just want to make sure…”

He made a couple more noises of affirmation, before setting the now spotted pile down. “I don’t know if you’ll have a uniform on standby, but I think we might have something in your size. If you are willing to come in tomorrow, then I can have Wrecks and Horac show you the ropes.” Tapping a finger to his lips, Ramses’ brows knit together. “You don’t have Arachnophobia, do you?”

*** “Welcome to Ramses!” Elle called out, bowing her head. When she straightened, she ignored the look of befuddlement from the new arrivals. “Just two?”

After seating the pair, she bid farewell to some patrons as they left. They acknowledged her, but seemed more confused than anything else in her presence. When the door closed behind them, she went to quickly clean their table.

Despite looking bulky, the maid outfit they had provided her was light and cool, with a long skirt, deep pockets in the apron. She’d brought her own tights and comfortable shoes. Her hair was tied into a pair of buns to keep it out of her face.

The morning rush was a surprise. Most demons were supposed to be unable to walk in sunlight, but that didn’t stop the clientele from coming in, carrying parasols, charms to protect them, and even wrapping themselves in bandages.

The newly arrived pair were dragonborn, who had quickly fallen into an in depth discussion about maidens and maids. When she approached them with her notepad, pencil to the paper, they quickly quieted.

“Can I recommend one of our Ashburnt Scones?” She asked. “They’ve got an arsenic glaze!”

After taking down their order, Elle quickly scampered to the kitchen and placed the paper on the counter.

“A pair of Coalpressed Muffins with Ashen Dustings!” She called out.

The Drider at the stove nodded, pulling out some blood red pancakes with a tar like topping that he set on plates, the two smaller legs at his waist doing small clean up details. A pair of triple lens spectacles balanced on his nose, which he was constantly adjusting to allow a different pair of eyes to see. Despite his name being “Wrecks” he actually seemed rather dexterous and nimble.

The second was the boarman, Horac, who was frying several cuts of meat and eggs. He seemed immune to the open flames, casually reaching across them to turn over a large slice of ham. Elle tried to not think too hard about the implications.

“Breakfast rush is almost over, rookie.” He said, his voice barely audible over the chaos of the kitchen.

“Thanks!” She took the plates and lined them up on trays, before rushing back out to the main room with the orders.

“I can’t believe a real life human is here,” A goat headed man said as she passed.

“I know. And so fast, too.” Their companion appeared human, but their teeth were too sharp. Enough to pass the line from sexy to frightening.

Just smiling, Elle passed over their food, which they quickly began to ravenously tear into. The remarks, while strange, seemed mostly positive.

By the time the morning rush was over, Elle’s feet were killing her. She collapsed into a chair once the last customer left.

“Elle, can you tell Ram I’m coming in late tomorrow?” Horac said, not giving further details as he went out the back. The bell chimed as he left.

“Sure.” She merely lifted her hand to give a wave he wouldn’t see.

“I’m going out for a smoke,” Wrecks said, his voice jolting through her. He hadn’t spoken all morning, only cooked and passed the orders to Elle. The dishes and counters were clean, so she wasn’t going to complain.

Once the ache had mostly gone, she got up and went to change the menus over. The bell chimed again when her back was turned, and she quickly turned back around.

The newcomer had silvery hair, a pair of fox ears twitching on his head. His eyes were closed, his mouth pulled into a vulpine grin.

“Welcome to Ramses!” She tried to pour in the sugary sweetness that customers loved. “I’ll be with you in just a moment.” Hopefully, Wrecks wouldn’t mind serving up breakfast still. “So, he did have a human on his payroll.” The new patron muttered to himself. “How quaint.” A bushy silver tail waved behind him.

Elle felt herself blushing. “Can I get you anything? Our Blasterjelly rolls are a customer favorite, along with our Hadesfire Pomegranate Tea.” She reached for a menu to shove in his hands. His gaze seemed focused on her, despite his eyes being closed.

“No,” He held up his hand. “Thank you. You served my friend earlier.” Reaching into his sash, he pulled out a box about the length of his hand, the width of two put together. “He’s too shy to show his gratitude in person, so he sent me in his stead.”

Setting the box on the podium, he turned on his heel and gave a backward wave, the bell chiming as he left.

Frowning, Elle used her pen to open the corner of the box. Inside, she saw a small flat pastry, the side of one showing a beet colored paste. Picking it up, she realized they were covered with powdered sugar. Setting it back down, she closed the box and stuffed it under the podium. How odd she’d been given a human friendly dessert.

“Ready for round two?” Wrecks asked when he came back in, wiping his hands on a towel.

“You know it!” She brushed back her hair, pushing the fox man out of her mind.

The bell chimed, a trio of trolls coming through, looking like they’d gotten off a construction job. A goat headed woman burst through the door behind them, looking frazzled. By the end of the second shift, Elle was nearly laying on the table. Her feet and back ached, her hair was a mess, and the uniform was rumpled.

“And my favorite part of the day…” Wrecks said, flipping the sign to indicate they were closed until the bar opened. He laughed to himself as he went to tally up the totals.

“Count this for me to make sure my math is right.” Taking the cash from the drawer, Wrecks slid it to her. He poured himself a sludge looking coffee, enough steam and heat coming off it to fog up his spectacles. Sweat trickled down his brow.

Elle’s stomach growled, and she found herself blushing. While his lower half made her nervous, his upper half was certainly handsome.

Right. Focus.

“Oh, right.” Wrecks paused. “You can’t…” He struggled to find the words. “Eat anything on our menu, can you?”

“Not without getting violently ill,” Elle admitted, before remembering the podium. “Oh! Right!” Rushing to it, she pulled out the box. “I was going to pack my lunch, but I woke up late!” She’d actually slept in her car because she was terrified of missing her first shift. It wasn’t like there was anyone waiting for her at home. And driving nearly half an hour both ways seemed like a poor use of her time.

Sitting next to the money, she took out one of the cakes and took a bite. Powdered sugar flew around her in a cloud, sending residue all over the uniform.

Keeping the cake in her mouth, she nursed at the paste and counted out the cash, keeping notes. Once she finished, she paused over the calculations and finished eating. Then, she quickly ate a second, barely tasting it as it went down.

“Get some actual food,” Wrecks chided. “I can smell the sweetness from here. Where did you get that if you didn’t pack your lunch?”

“Apparently one of the customers really liked my service and gave me a gift.” Elle shrugged. She looked down at her tips for the day, her breath catching in her throat. How much money did this damned clientele have!? Pulling out her wallet, she quickly signed off on the amount and collected it. Looking down at her uniform, she excused herself to the bathroom.

There was no way she was going to risk getting it dirty and looking unprofessional. If she was going to be making money like this every day, she was going to take this job seriously. Going to the restroom, she did what she could to clean up her uniform. No way was she going to take a dock in her pay to pay for the outfit.

Her face felt hot. Slipping off the apron, she unbuttoned her blouse and splashed water on herself. Looking in the mirror, she saw her cheeks and neck were crimson. The blush spread even further, hidden by her shirt.

Slipping off her blouse, she stared at the sleeveless shirt, which only showed off more of her flushed skin. It was still hot, but more bearable. And she was NOT undressing more. Splashing her face again, she got her hair damp. Slicking back her loose bangs, Elle took in a deep breath.

When she walked out, she saw Wrecks looking at the cakes. Holding one between his thumb and forefinger, he squeezed it. The paste oozed out, dripping onto his fingers. He had his phone to his ear, waiting for someone to answer.

Elle was about to complain he’d ruined part of her gift, but his expression was serious. It sent a twinge of worry through her, followed by another hot flash. This one made her head spin, and she quickly sat down.

“Where did you get these?” His voice was sharp.

“Some guy dropped them off. Um… Foxy.” She started to recall his face, but all it did was cloud her mind with other details she’d overlooked. The way his collar bone peeked out over his robe. How veiny and strong his hands looked. His lips, perfectly glossy, the fangs peeking out with his grin.

“Shepard?” Wrecks asked.

“Hmm?” She smacked her cheeks to try and refocus. “Where was I again?”

Before Wrecks could answer, the person on the other end picked up.

“Yeah.” Wrecks tossed her a damp towel.

Wiping it across her sweaty skin, Elle began to inhale deeply. She felt hot all over, her body starting to shake. Every fiber of her clothing brushed against her, scraping her raw.

“I’m sure it was him,” Wrecks’ voice sounded like it was coming from the other end of a tunnel. “Bet my first born on it. I could smell fuckery on the box.” He looked over to Elle, licking his lips nervously. “She seems fine now, but I don’t want to touch her, could you get a hold of a human doctor?” He paused, nodding along with the speaker, small grunts escaping his mouth.

“Alright.” He hung up, inching closer to Elle.

“That was Ramses. He’s on his way.” He pulled another towel off the counter and soaked it in icy water, before passing it to Elle. “Those cakes were laced with… Something.” He frowned, brows coming together.

“I guess it was Tanpopo’s way of saying hello…”

“Who?” Although Elle was sure she had a good idea who the Drider spoke of. Her insides twitched, needing to be filled. Sweat trickled down her neck and back. Slowly, she laid down in the booth, her legs facing the wall.

“An asshole who runs the bakery down the road.” Wrecks jerked his thumb behind him. “He thought it would be funny to “prank,” He added air quotes. “Some of our staff last year by spiking some cakes and tea with Hellfire Mint.” Three pairs of eyes watered at the memory. “Most of them were fine, but one of our hosts got sent into early labor and had to go to the hospital.”

Fanning herself with a menu, Elle panted. “I wish I’d been warned.”

“Well, there hadn’t been any problems since then,” Wrecks explained. “Horac was a pretty decent deterrent.”

Elle’s mouth was suddenly dry. The heat was becoming unbearable. Her legs refused to budge, each breath making another flash of arousal go through her. “I’ll get you some water.” Wrecks excused himself, quickly coming back with a glass. He passed it to her. “Now, I’m not sure how long this is supposed to last, but Ramses seemed pretty sure he knew what it was.”

Their hands touched. Elle let out a cry, dropping the glass. She shook, nearly convulsing as the need seized her.

Wrecks jumped back, his legs skittering across the floor, unable to gain traction.

Elle was on her feet, grabbing the front of his vest and pulling him to her. Their lips nearly brushed.

“No no no no no no!” He said rapidly, using his front legs and arms to push her away. “It’s flattering, but you are in no condition to be initiating this!”

His skin was scalding hot against hers. She grabbed his clothing so tight she thought it would rip. Pulling him close again, she ignored the impact of his front legs against her skirt.

“I’m terribly sorry, Shepard.” Wrecks said, before she suddenly couldn’t move.

Looking down, she saw she was covered with white bindings. Webbing kept her still, binding her legs together below the knees, and her arms below the elbows. He then pushed her back into the booth.

The bell chimed. Nostrils flaring, Elle thrashed around to try and sit up as the scent of Demon hit her.

“Oh, thank Arachne.” Wrecks backed away. “You made good time.”

“Of course.” Ramses' voice thundered in her ears. Elle’s lips parted slightly as she continued to wriggle around, trying to get free of her bindings. “Leave us. This is easier if there’s only one target.”

Wrecks didn’t have to be told twice. He picked up his scant belongings and quickly scampered out the door.

Ramses stood in front of the booth, his crotch the perfect height for-

And he was gone.

The door locked.

Then, he was back.

“You’ve ingested Asmodeus Fruit,” He explained, pulling out a knife. “Better known as Lustberries.” Looking at the blade, he set it down on the table. “Hold still.” His visible skin was wrapped in bandages. To protect him from the sun?

The order made Elle still, the only movement was her shaking with desire.

“I’m going to cut you loose. But you have to promise me you’re not going to jump on me. Okay?”

Despite the words barely registering, Elle nodded, her body still trembling.

Ramses cut the bindings, his bandaged hands brushing against her. Unlike with Wrecks, it didn’t send a jolt through her. But his scent, the way he panted with exertion… She found herself leaning forward.

“KNIFE!” He yelled, shoving her back. His hand hit her protective charm, and both of them went flying back. She hit the wall hard, and he slid into the front counter in front of the kitchen. Wincing, he slowly got back up, rubbing the back of his head.

“Are you okay?” Her legs were still bound. She started to climb out of the booth.

“Stay!” He commanded, getting up.

Elle’s legs became weak, and she nearly face planted on the floor. Catching herself, Elle held onto the corner of the table. Her charm hung low.

Ramses rushed over, cutting her legs free.

“Now. Listen.” He shook his finger in her face.

Nodding, Elle leaned forward.

“Go to the loft.”

She rose up, the charm snagging on the corner of the table, the wire wrapping coming undone and the stone falling to the ground, sliding under the booth.

Her feet slapped against the floor, she nearly tripped over the chained sign as she ran. But she was up the stairs, lungs and chest heaving. Collapsing onto the couch, she felt the heat rolling over again, almost unbearable. Clothes continued to rake against her skin so roughly she thought it would make her bleed. Her hands went to her top, trying to pull it off.

“Okay, Elle. I need you to listen to me.” Ramses said, coming up in the loft. “Normally this stuff wears off after a few hours. But it’s demon fruit, so humans suffer-” He let out a surprised noise as Elle rushed over to him.

When her hands touched his shirt, she realized he wasn’t wrapped under his clothes. Working her fingers through the gaps between his buttons, she touched her fingertips to his bare chest. The heat of his skin made her shudder.

Dropping to her knees, she started to unbuckle his belt.

“Elle!” He said sharply. “Hold on!” Grabbing one of her buns, he held her head in place. Lips parted, she looked up. Panting, she reached for him. Despite denying her advances, his erection was growing quickly.

“Here.” He pulled out a vial, a white liquid inside. “Drink this first. I know it’ll be nasty, but-” As he spoke, the white liquid suddenly yellowed and seemed to become crusty.

She grimaced.

“I know. But the other cure is… Not ideal.” He offered her the vial. Uncorking the top, he pressed the glass to her lips.

Slowly, he tilted it. Once the liquid touched Elle’s lips, foul gelatinous sludge tried to worm its way into her mouth. Pulling back, she sputtered and coughed. Eyes watering, she shook her head.

There was glass breaking, and the liquid spilled all over the floor. The fog was gone, but Elle suddenly felt so hot she started to claw at her clothes.

“You’re going to hurt yourself!” Ramses grabbed her arms, straddling her. His erection dug into her as he pinned her to the floor.

“Elle, listen to me.” His breath was warm against her skin, caressing skin, the wetness from it sliding down her body.

Closing her eyes, Elle thrust against him. Ramses let out a distressed yelp, before gripping her tighter.

“Fuck me…” She moaned, rubbing against him. A wet spot was left on Ramses pants, although she wasn’t sure if it was from him or her.

It was getting so hot she felt like she was going to pass out, black spots filling her vision. Her clothes felt like they were tearing large chunks of her skin off.

“I’m… So sorry.” Ramses picked her up off the floor, setting her down on the couch.

“For what?” She grabbed his shirt, pulling him down. Their lips almost touched, but he turned his face so she kissed his horn.

“You’re in no state of mind…” He knelt between her legs. “Just let me try something.” Taking her tights, he clumsily pulled them down. Catching the waist of Elle’s panties, Ramses left her completely bare. At the sight, averting his eyes, Ramses cheeks turned crimson.

“Yep…” He struggled to find the words. “That’s certainly Asmodeus fruit.”

Elle touched herself, spreading the soaking lips wide. Grinding against the couch, she felt herself drenching the fabric.

“Okay.” Ramses draped her legs over his shoulders. “I’m going to try something. If it doesn’t work, then we have one option left.”

Elle nodded, but her mind was buzzing. Grabbing Ramses by the hair, she shoved him into her drenched folds. Whatever response he had was muffled, making her shiver.

His tongue began to trace her lower lips, before he slipped it inside. Ellen held his head in place, biting her lips as he continued to lick. Reaching up, he seized her thighs and spread her legs wider. His breath made her tingle.

Closing her eyes, Elle focused on the sensation, the heat now concentrating in her lower half. Ramses’ head bobbed back and forth, the sounds of licking and sucking so loud in the empty loft. She let out several moans, trying to lock her legs around his head.

Keeping her legs open, Ramses continued to lick, before exposing her clit and swirling his tongue around it. Elle moaned, releasing his hair and grinding against his face. “Come for me, Elle.” He groaned into her, his breath so warm. “Come for me, please.”

Letting her head lull back, Elle moaned and grabbed the couch tight enough to feel the fabric start to rip. She felt the orgasm start to build, each lick eliciting another cry from her. Eyes watering, she nearly screamed when Ramses plunged his tongue inside.

But before she could release, it was like slamming into a brick wall. White filled her vision as the heat became a searing pain. A scream escaped her and she shuddered, falling to the side.

“S-stop…” She panted, tears streaming down her face. “It… It hurts.”

Ramses pulled back, his bandages around the lower half of his face now loose. They were soaked with Elle. Small bits of skin were visible. Despite the pain in her lower half, Elle grabbed Ramses by the shirt. She then climbed on top of him, rubbing her aching groin over his crotch.

“Fuck me, please.” She begged, continuing to grind against his hardness.

“Hold on.” Ramses pushed the table to the other couch, his glasses askew. Picking Elle up, he placed her on the couch. Unzipping his pants, he let them fall to the ground. His fully erect cock came forth, beads of precum dripping from the tip. Elle leaned forward, wrapping her lips around it.

Ramses let out a surprised moan, knees nearly giving out as Elle sucked. Once the few drops of precum were swallowed, the heat drastically reduced. Panting, Elle pulled back and let her tongue swirl around the tip.

Then, she felt herself blushing. The reality of the situation began to crash around her. Pulling her head back, she quickly let go of Ramses cock and put her hands at her side.

“Um…” The wetness between her legs was almost unbearable. “I’m… Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” Ramses panted, sitting down on the table. “It wasn’t your fault. I understand if you want to leave now.”

Elle stared at his cock, swallowing hard. It was glistening with her saliva. She should leave. This was not only inappropriate, but they were both in a bad spot. But her body was literally hurting with need.

“Ramses.” Her face was probably tomato red. What had she just done? Ramses probably thought… “This wasn’t your fault.”

“I know. But I should have warned you.” He was attempting to put his dick back in his pants, which seemed to be a challenge.

“Erm…” She prodded her forefingers against one another, biting her lower lip. “This is super inappropriate. But is the antidote for this fruit…” Her voice trailed off as she became more flustered. “You know, demon semen?”

Mutely, Ramses nodded. “I didn’t want you to either get too excited or too disgusted.” He looked up at her when she stood over him. “Because I’ve been told it can be rather potent.”

“So, are you sure you gave me enough of a dose?” She lifted her skirt, showing him her wetness. “Because I would, uh, prefer not to go back to how I was.” Her legs shook, the blush filled her entire body.

Ramses’ eyes went wide, and he took off his glasses, setting them down on the table. “I’m not sure. It’s not an exact science. But…” He was cut off when Elle kissed him, straddling his lap.

“Oh.” He kissed her back, looping his hands around her waist.

“Elle,” He said, his voice muffled by her mouth. His pupils dilated slightly, the blood vessels thickening.

“Hm?” She pulled back, her arms around his neck.

“If you want to wait, the lust will wear off.”

Elle thought about it, but shook her head, “I want to do this.” She nibbled at his exposed skin, hands running up and down the nape of his neck.

“Very well.” He stood, keeping her legs wrapped around his waist.

Setting her back onto the couch, Ramses straddled her, pinning her arms above her head against the armrest.

“Are you still hot?”

She nodded.

Taking Elle’s shirt, he slid it off and let it fall to the floor, leaving her in only her skirt.

“Aren’t you?”

“Sunlight.” He gestured to the windows.

“Oh.”

“Consider this… Paid overtime.” Nudging her legs open, Ramses lined himself up, prodding against her slit. Each touch made Elle gasp, grinding against him.

Then, he slid inside. Elle gasped, instantly clenching around him. Ramses gripped the back of the couch, letting out a surprised whimper. Leaning down, he wrapped his arms around her and began to thrust. Once her arms were free, she let her hands explore him.

The touch seemed to encourage him further and he hilted himself.

Elle screamed in pleasure, digging her nails into Ramses’ shirt. Covering her mouth with his, Ramses began to pound into her, each thrust making her see a flash of color.

“God,” He said between thrusts. “You’re so tight.” His breath was warm against her face and neck. Leaning down, he nibbled her neck. “I…” The blush returned to his face.

Elle pulled him back, their lips meeting again. Pushing her tongue into his mouth, she let them dance as he found his rhythm and continued to pump back and forth. Each moan encouraged him, and he went harder.

As the thrusts went deeper, Elle cried out, her back arching. She ran her hands down Ramses shirt and vest, the fabric chafing against her skin. Unlike her own clothing, it pushed her closer to the edge, but she felt herself hitting the wall again.

Her breasts began to bounce, and Ramses groaned, his legs and buttock suddenly clenching.

“Please!” She begged, squeezing him tightly. “Finish inside me!”

“Fuck!” Ramses yelped, before he released, the fluid spilling out of Elle. Panting, he shuddered, placing his hands on either side of her head. Sweat trickled down his face. Clenching, he thrust against her as he emptied everything inside.

The orgasm finally came, and Elle clenched, wrapping her legs around his and pulling Ramses close. Shivering, she panted and closed her eyes.

“I think… That’s enough.” He slipped out of her and sat up on the couch, his softening cock still shimmering with her wetness.

Elle shuddered, then slowly sat up, rescuing her shirt from the floor and holding it up to her chest. She was covered with the strange black residue from his hands.

“I am very sorry about that.” Ramses zipped his pants up and buckled his belt. “I completely understand if you want to quit.”

“Umm…” Elle worried at her lower lip. “You see, I didn’t exactly dislike it and I really need this job.” She couldn’t even look at him without blushing.

“I could tell.” Ramses eyes went wide and he put his glasses back on. “Although I’m not sure how much of that was me or the Fruit.” He rubbed his face. “I’m going to kill that fox the next time I see him.”

Elle swallowed hard, thinking of the cakes. “Um, before you get all worked up, shouldn’t you get ready to open the bar?”

Ramses rubbed his face with a sigh. “I’ve got some time.” He looked her over. “I know you live farther away, but do you want to get cleaned up at my place? Er, not that I’m inviting you back over for...” He let the silence hang in the air.

Sighing, Elle nodded. “One thing at a time. I need to get this ‘antidote’ off me before it leaves a stink.” The scent of sex was already making her dizzy and flushed.

Helping her up, Ramses helped her dress and helped her back down to the main gathering area, collecting the charm from the floor. Stopping at the umbrella holder, he pulled out a parasol and opened it. When he took a few steps outside, he suddenly staggered.

Wrapping his arm around her, Elle helped him walk.

“It’s not too far," Ramses explained. “Erm, so, about what happened.”

“My lips are sealed,” Elle mimed locking her lips and throwing away a key. “As long as you don’t tell the others about me trying to blow you. And everything else.”

Ramses stifled a noise and looked away. “It’s fine. Just erm… Expect a bonus on your first check.”

“A bonus?” Now she was starting to feel like it was some sort of hush money.

“I take… Very good care of my employees.” Ramses frowned. “It’s hard to keep them on.” Swallowing hard, he sighed. “Elle, what I did back there, I promise I’m not normally like that. I know demons have a reputation for being sinners, but I don’t want you to feel I took advantage.”

“Too bad, I had a lot of fun.” Elle blushed at her words. “Sorry, was that too much?”

Ramses bit at his lip. “No, but I am your boss. I don’t want rumors to spread.”

“I understand.” She felt the rest of the heat finally leave her body, leaving her head clear. “But don’t… ever be afraid to ask. I um, headed after this job for a reason. Not just for the pay.”

Ramses hid his face and nodded.

If every day was going to be like this, then this new job was going to be interesting. She’d have to apologize to Wrecks tomorrow.

At least there was hazard pay.

(You can read part 02 here!)

#monster love #monster lover #monster x human #monster romance #monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monsterfucker #terato #demon #demon x human #demon fucker #demon smut #monster smut #demon lover #boss x employee

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hacked-by-jake · 6 months

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[MC (they-them) × Jake × fluff]

MC stepped out of the police station, relieved to have finally finished the last report on the Hannah case, feeling the warmth of the sun on their face and the crisp spring air filling their lungs. They glanced at their watch, already mentally mapping out their route to the next town where their expertise was needed. But before they could take another step, a mysterious figure clad in black approached them, sunglasses hiding his eyes, a hood obscuring his features.

"Are you MC?" he asked, his voice low and gravelly.

They nodded cautiously as he handed them a sealed envelope without another word. Without waiting for a response, the enigmatic figure vanished into the bustling street. Intrigued and slightly unnerved, MC tore open the letter, their curiosity piqued by the unexpected delivery, despite already having a premonition about the sender of this letter..

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

𝘔𝘺 𝘋𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘔𝘊,

I'm sending this letter to assure you of my safety.

As I sit here, penning these words to you, my heart races with both excitement and trepidation. The events that unfolded during our recent mission have left me both exhilarated and wounded, both physically and emotionally. But above all else, they've left me longing for your reassuring presence.

I write to you now, not from a place of despair, but from a place of hope and determination. Despite the close call and the injuries sustained, I want you to know that I am safe and on the path to recovery. The mine left me with several, light injuries. The burns may sting, but they are nothing compared to the ache in my heart from being away from you.

MC, our partnership has been nothing short of extraordinary. Together, we've faced challenges that most would shy away from, and emerged victorious against all odds. The way you fearlessly tackled every obstacle, with unwavering resolve, fills me with an indescribable pride. You are the true hero in this story.

Yet, amidst the chaos and danger, I can't shake the feeling of guilt for putting you in harm's way. Please know that it was never my intention to cause you worry or pain. If anything, I am in awe of your strength and resilience, and I am eternally grateful for your unwavering support.

As we embark on this temporary separation, I find solace in the knowledge that it is only a matter of time before we reunite. I've been informed about the City near Duskwood, where they requested your assistance. Moonvale awaits us with its mysteries and challenges, and I have no doubt that together, we will conquer whatever obstacles lie ahead.

Until then, my love, take comfort in the knowledge that I carry you with me always, in every beat of my heart and every thought that crosses my mind. Stay strong, stay safe, and know that I am counting down the moments until we can be together again.

I, too, will personally ensure your safety. Nymos and I are committed to clearing your path and doing whatever it takes to protect you. I've shared my vulnerability with you before, and in light of the recent events at Grim Rock, I find myself even more dependent and at your mercy.

I'm incredibly proud of you for cracking the case and saving my sister. The challenges you confronted, the horrors you endured, and the loss of Richy... I can only begin to fathom the emotional anguish you're experiencing, but I vow to be your unwavering support, concealed in the shadows, yet ever-present by your side, even if you cannot perceive me. I will never leave you alone.

MC, my love, I promise you, we will see each other again when the time comes.

With all my heart,

Jake

A/n: A little thing after the release of the date, just a little idea. Actually, I just wanted to post the letter, but decided to add the first part, just as an introduction. Letters from Jake are just great, aren’t they? :) I was a bit proud for the wording here. Even if the first part is pretty short and not so detailed. But well, writing Jake is a stress-lovely something. I hope you liked it. Thanks for reading and I hope you will have a fantastic day/evening/night! 💚

#duskwood #moonvale #duskwood fanfiction #moonvale fanfiction #<- wahhhh #duskwood x moonvale fanfiction #duskwood jake #duskwood hacker #everbyte studio #duskwood game #duskwood everbyte #everbyte duskwood #iamjake #duskwood mc #duskwood jake x mc #everbyte game #duskwood jake x player #letters from jake #{hbj(dw)/writes;fanfiction}

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punkeropercyjackson · 6 months

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It's finally here!!!

Graphic design is my passion LMFAO but as i said i would do a while back,i've created a masterpost of all the Jason Todd content that's worth your time!This is rather long but he's existed since 1983 so!!

Base edit is my little sister @mayameanderings and tagging @coffeemilkcatz and @nanaonmars since they said yes when i asked if they wanted me to!Let's dive in then!

Batman 408-426,Detective comics 568-582,Superman annual 11,New Teen Titans 18-31,Blue Devil 19,Action comics 556 and 594,Batman Annuals 10-12 and Batman(The cult)for pre-reboot Robin!Jason my beloved

Nightwing Year One 101-106,New Teen Titans 55,Nightwing 10(1997)and Legends of the Dark Knight 100 for Dick and Jason siblinghood,Gotham Knights 34 for the short story of him and Alfred and Detective comics 790 for Bruce telling Cass about him as it takes place on Jason's birthday

Lost Days aka the Red Hood prologue

Under The Red Hood(2010)-The original comic is good in it's own right but the movie is leagues better written(Rare comic book adaption exception lmao)

Robin 177 and 182-183 for the actual Tim and Jason beef instead of 'replacement' and 'enemy to caretaker' bs

Azreal:Death's Dark Knight 3(Can't give commentary on this one since i don't know Azreal like that,sorry)

Red Hood and The Outlaws(2016).Unlike the Utrh comic vs the Utrh movie,the original Rhato has nothing positive like the reboot

Not TECHNICALLY Jason BUT Duke is his favorite brother and Stephanie's the only Batfam girl he's truly close to so you should also stan them since he'd want you to /lh

Red Hood:Outlaw for the confirmation that Red Hood loves black women from infinity to infinityyyyy(meaning his love interest Dana Harlowe is introduced and featured as an mc in this run)

Urban Legends 1-6 for his return to the Batfam-Messy tbh but i do enjoy parts of it!

Task Force Z for him and Stephanie being a vigilante team and it has a prelude,that being Detective comics 1041-1043

Unkillables and Joker:The Man Who Stopped Laughing for Jayrose goodies and more of the above

Gotham War if you feel like turning off your brain to look at good art and laugh at dogshit writing

Red Hood:The Hill is his current run and when our queen Dana comes home from comics limbo!!!

The following is a misc list that's not required to include in your Jason knowledge but HIGHLY recommended you do just for fun!

Tiny Titans 23,29,33,39,45 and 47,Bombshells 46,60 and 62,Bombshells United 18-24,Lego Batman:Family Matters,A Death In The Family 2020,Batman:The Adventures Continue,Batman/Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 5-6,The Doom That Came to Gotham 2023 and The Teen Titans Go episode 'The Best Robin'(Pre-Reboot Robin Jason rights!!!).Also look up 'Nobody cares about Tim Drake' if you don't know what that is,you'll love it

Jason also appears in the Lego DC Super Villains games that i highly recommend as well especially because my girlfriend is a mega fan of it and i don't know much about Lego Batman 3:Beyond Gotham but please avoid the aformentioned original Rhato,Red Hood:Outlaws and the Gotham Knights game as they feature extremely problematic writing not limited to but including racialized misogyny and ableism and do disservice to Jason himself anyway so you wouldn't want to consume them to begin with if you want to like him.I have mixed feelings on the Arkham Knight and Injustice games series' but they are objectively fairly good so i wouldn't say no to giving them a shot to see if you like them

And for the finale we have Wayne Family Adventures-Definitely a good read but to be totally honest it does Duke DIRTY and it sucks so much of DC to have marketed as his series to not only not follow through at all and make it an ensemble cast instead but ALSO deprive him of his actual characterization and story to make him a demure weak black boy stereotype.I won't judge you at all for liking it if you decided to read it or have already but kindly keep this in mind and consider joining me and my mutuals in our rewrite of it to give our Signal of Hope and Chaos the writing he deserves or at least support us through likes and reblogs!Happy Jason readings and have a good day💕

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linkedspirit-fanartfunart · 15 days

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[Image Description: A series of character designs based on Legend of Zelda's villains for the Linked Spirit AU. One is a merged TotK/CDi Ganon, "Simulacrum of the Demon King" who has a raised hand, grinning. He has red long hair and wears a green hood helmet and tunic with a long sleeve. He wears a black shirt and cape with red malice-like patterns throughout the edges. He wears golden jewlery. 2nd is FSA Ganon "Master of the Dark Mirror" Who glares forward, hands at his sides. He matches the game design, a moblin with blue skin and light gold armor. 3rd is LoZ 1 Ganon "Prince of Darkness" who is a teal light blue skined moblin with a long thin snout and pointed ears. He wears a purple helmet and pants, with red pauldrons and cape. He wears a skull on his chest. He points forward. 4th is Cartoon "Ganon", "Leaders of Ganon's Army", Agaheir, a LoZ 1 Wizrobe in blue with brown skin and a birdlike beak, and Kilbo, a blue moblin with dark blue tunic and gold accents. 5th is Ganondorf at 3 ages, OoT "Theif King", as a young man, TP "Twilight God of Power", middle aged, and WW "Ancient King", an older man. His outfits are about the same as the games. 6th is ALttP Ganon, "Darkworld King" dark blue furred Moblin with a red cape and gold armor. 7th is ALBW Yuga "The Painter Mage" who holds his arms out dramatically. He wears the same outfit as he does in canon. Finally is MC Vaati "The Wind Mage", who looks like he does in canon, one hand held up slightly clawed. His cape is bat-like on the bottom edge. End ID]

Ganons & related non-demonic villains!

For Linked Spirit the randomly specific headcanons/changes are as follows: CDi Ganon is basically like one of those Phantom Ganons but created from a different source (thus why he can just get trapped into a book), ALttP Ganon is OoT Ganondorf, FSA is some other dude who happens to also be named Ganondorf... and LoZ 1 Ganon may or may not be ALttP's son or otherwise related...

Also I split Cartoon Ganon into two dudes so that I can say that Hope's Ganon is like. Dead. If you're watching the Cartoon going "how does that work" just take any time Ganon claims to be a Master Wizard as Agaheir and any time he's a grumpy leader it's Kilbo. :P

#linked spirit #loz au #legend of zelda #loz #linked spirit au #ls ganon #ls vaati #ls yuga #ls ganondorf

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thekidsralright · 1 year

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a love worth fighting for.

pairing: abby anderson x f!reader

synopsis: anderson is the name on everybody's lips when it comes to discussing the newest up-and-coming boxers of the season. with the help of her coach and you by her side, she's going for the world title. but what will she have to sacrifice to get there?

an: so, it's finally here. this is a big one for me folks - i'd go as far as to say the biggest fic i've ever worked on. ever. i'd love for this to be multi chapter, but that depends on the reception part 1 receives. if you like it, please reblog and let me know your thoughts. i'm proud of this, so be kind with your comments x

warnings: 18+ mdni. violence, swearing, references to smut (despite this chap not having any super explicit content, if i decide to continue this fic there will defo be heavy smut in the next upload - so don't even bother reading the first part if you're not of age).

The MC’s voice reverberates throughout the stadium, drowning out the cacophony of cheers, boos, and overarching buzz from the crowd. You could never predict who they would back until the night, usually finding that boxing fans are easily swayed depending on who gets the first punch in. You were hoping all support would be directed at her tonight, god she needed it. Trying to maintain a positive attitude is hard when your girlfriend's opponent is making his way into the ring, his impressive height and wide, muscular shoulders towering leagues above his teams; arms raised, working the crowd and hyping them up in anticipation for the fight to come. They’re already eating out of his hands, the bastards.

“Ladieeees and Gentlemaaan! Welcome to the main event. In the blue corner, weighing in at 188 pounds, undefeated in 48 fights; he needs no introduction folks - it’s the man, the beast, Zach ‘Thunderstorm’ Norriiiiiis!”

The crowd roars in excitement, slapping their hands together and pumping their fists in the air. Zach is one of the nation's favourites, as any undefeated boxer would be. The nickname ‘Thunderstorm’ came from the sound his opponent’s bodies would make when they hit the canvas, like the crack of lightning. You look ahead with a neutral expression, keeping your eyes focused on the empty archway ahead of you - trying not to zero in on just how big his arms were. How they could crush someone's airways, smash apart their ribs, do irreplaceable damage.

You inherently hated what your girl did as a profession, hated the way she put herself in harm's way time after time after time. But there was also a part of you that admired her for it, for the unbreakable determination that radiated from her - if she got beaten down, she would get right back up and come at you even harder. It’s what kept forcing you to show up. That, and also the tiny factor of being absolutely in love with the woman. But when she got hurt, which seemed to be every other day lately, you really wanted to grab a hold of her fucking head and shake the-

“Aaaaand coming into the red corner, Thunderstorm’s opponent, weighing in at 175 pounds. She hails from Salt Lake City, and is rising through the ranks quickly. With 30 wins, 24 of them coming by way of knockout, give it up for the new kid on the block - it’s Abbyyyyyy Andersooooon!”

And here she comes, bowling out of that archway with Coach right on her tails; the hood of her red robe covering her plaited hair, matching red gloves already fastened and ready. Even from where you were waiting by the stalls, you could see the all-too-familiar expression that befalls her face before every fight. Eyes so dark they look black, focused, unwavering; brimming with unshed aggression that are preparing for the violence that is about to ensue.

Frightening. Arousing. Another reason you’re still with her.

Abby ducks under the ropes of the ring, bouncing on her feet as she grounds herself on the canvas before moving over to her corner where Coach is now waiting. As you rush up to them, Coach gives you the look he always does before a fight - the type that screams, ‘you shouldn’t be here, girl.’ He thinks you’re a distraction, an irritating fly he’d rather swat away so he can make sure his prized money maker has the best chance at winning. You weren’t giving in that easily. Coach could go to hell for all you cared; you knew his real motivations when it came to all of this. Abby may regard him like a father, but you saw him for what he really was. A leech.

Coach shouts up into Abby’s ear, her head bent in concentration - “He’s a fucking showman. That, and a bit of muscle. You know you got the upper hand tactically; he has no fucking clue what’s about to hit him. Just stay focused Anderson, and this bout is yours.”

Abby nods resolutely, eyes trained on the canvas as she rolls her shoulders back and cracks her neck. Coach’s hands come up to grip the ropes between them.

“You gotta win this champ, you can win this. Just don’t. get. distracted.”

Both Coach’s and Abby’s eyes turn to you at the same time as you offer up a reassuring smile to your girlfriend, also now clutching at the ropes that separate you.

“You got this babe.”

She nods quickly and gives a tight smile, but you can tell from the tense line of her shoulders that she’s stressing out. Yes she’s fought before, but it was never on this big of a scale. Never against opponents like him. It was what Coach insisted was the next step –

“You wanna face off a load of wimps Anderson? Or do you wanna make it to champion status?... Yeah? Of course you fucking do. Then you gotta get in front of the crowds and beat the shit out of the favourites.”

Easy for him to say, he’s not the one going up against an undefeated fighter. But you had faith in your girl. That was never going to change. You move closer to the ring as she crouches down into the corner, Coach double checking he has all the supplies that she would need between rounds. You take her face in your hands through the division of the ropes and pull her in for a quick kiss - before she can move away, you hold her there and take her chin in your grip, eyes lingering on hers.

“Win this…like I know you can, and then come home and fuck me like a champion.”

You don’t give her time to respond as you let her face go and back away, moving into the crowd as you cheer her name. That posture of stress has eased slightly, and a smug smile is planted on her face instead. Coach, of course, comes and wipes that smirk away as he puts her mouthguard in, holding her head still as he most likely shouts some type of bull at her once again. But of course, she’s listening to him like it’s gospel. Amped up and ready to fight, Abby raises herself to full height, bouncing on her feet and swinging her arms to the side. The crowd aren’t sure what to make of her, most of them never even hearing her name before. But there is the occasional cheer for “Anderson!” amongst the rally of support for Norris. After all, people do love an underdog.

The announcer calls Abby and Norris into the middle of the ring, a hand on both of their chests as he explains, “Now I want a nice, clean game. Nothing below the belt. Are we clear?”

Both nod, pressing against the MC’s outstretched hands in an act of intimidation towards the other. Abby’s face is like stone, never breaking eye contact and standing strong. Norris on the other hand, his smirk was the show of pure arrogance. She better fuck this dickhead up. Both back away from each other, getting into a southpaw stance as the MC’s voice rings out for the last time.

“Are we readyyyyy…FIGHT!”

You forget about everything else when that bell rings; the crowd getting louder, Coach’s bellows erupting from her corner, the look on Norris’ face as he circles his prey. The toll of that bell ringing in your ears sounds like a death sentence, also signalling the start of round 1.

____________

By round 4, the feeling of uneasiness settles in your stomach and your eyes continue to follow her quick-shifting form, matching her movements so that when she ducked or flinched back, so did you. Both fighters have been pretty level with one another so far, both sending out jabs and uppercuts - only for them to be warded off before any real damage could be inflicted. It’s not enough to win though, she needs a clear hit.

Abby goes in for a right hook, ever so slightly clipping Norris’ chin and the crowd ripples in response, hoping for the real fight to begin soon. Norris responds with a clinch to stop her from advancing too quickly, wrapping his arms around and over her. You hated seeing him touch her like that, your own fists clenching at your sides in response.

The bell tolls again signalling the end of the round, both fighters making their way to their respective posts - but not before you see Norris saying something in Abby’s ear. She doesn’t move for a second, eyes unwavering on Norris as he turns his back. For a second you think she might go for him, but she’s worked too hard to let her temper win now. With a shake of her head, she goes over to Coach and plunks down on the ground - tearing off her gloves with her teeth and ripping out her mouthpiece. Her focus is still sharply on Norris across the ring, most likely getting strategy tips and a pep talk in her ear from Coach, reminding her to channel all that anger back into the task at hand.

You don’t move from your seat in the crowd, wanting to give her the space to fully zone in. She knows you’re here for her and only her, and you provided enough motivation at the beginning of the night to last the duration. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy the view at the moment either, and that those feelings of uneasiness were also coupled with an overwhelming tide of arousal.

The way sweat is dripping down her face and neck, trickling down her chest and onto her arms. How she runs her hands over the top of her head, dousing it in water and brushing through the roots with her fingers to cool off. Yeah… you really hoped she did win tonight, not just because she deserves it from how hard she’s been training, but selfishly a part of you really wants to get fucked good tonight. Especially after the show she’s putting on for you right now. And you know for a fact it’s only for you.

Abby’s let you know multiple times how much she loves you watching her fight, seeing her crush opponents to a pulp and looking absolutely glorious doing so. It’s upsetting that tonight, she isn’t doing so well. But this is what she and Coach wanted, to start moving up the leagues and facing off against better fighters - solidifying her name among the real competition. You try to stop the negative thoughts from creeping in, try to stay positive for your girl.

The rounds keep stacking up, neither Abby or Norris winning the upper hand for long. It’s evident that both fighters are getting aggravated by round 9, their punches falling on the side of reckless, their expressions displeased and downright pissed. You shout as loud as you can, “Come on baby, you can do this!” in the hopes that Abby can hear you over everyone else. And she must have done, as her head slightly turns in your direction on instinct, and Norris’ gloved fist takes the opportunity to make contact with the side of her face in response.

The crowd screams with excitement, satisfied with the fact that something is finally happening. But all you see is red as the blood sprays from Abby’s mouth on impact, her body crashing into the ropes that barely keep her form upright. You take a step forward as does Coach, you both now waiting for the bell to ring so you can meet her at the post. 12 seconds.

Come on, just stay out of his way for a bit longer…avoid the fucker for 12 seconds!

Abby’s so stunned from that first punch that as she tries to right herself on the canvas and pick up her stance, Norris is already waiting with another blow to the face - this time an uppercut that sends her head flying back and her legs out from under her.

No no no no, NO!

5 seconds.

You’re screaming for her to get up as the crowd counts how long she’s been down.

1…2…3-

“Stand up! Abby stand the FUCK UP!”

A wave of an arm and a twitch of a leg has you screaming in relief, as Abby slowly gets back on her feet before a KO can be declared, just as the bell signals the end of the round.

Abby all but bolts for her corner, leaning her body and head back against the post - her eyes shut from exhaustion and pain. Coach partially moves out of the way for the cutman, who is trying to clean the blood from her face as best they can - the enswell pressing against the areas where Norris’ punches made impact.

You can see she’s starting to give up, that undeniable fire in her eyes has dulled to a mere glow. You can’t stand it. You try to move your head further into her corner to say “Baby, you can do this, you just gotta-”

Before you can finish, Coach has climbed through the ropes so he’s kneeling directly in front of Abby’s hunched figure, grabbing the back of her head so their foreheads are nearly touching.

“You listen to me Anderson. You’re jumping about this ring like a fuckin’ monkey on steroids. Calm the fuck down, focus in on the technique we’ve been working on for months and stop…getting…distracted.”

At this, both heads turn in your direction. Abby’s expression shows you she isn’t angry about being distracted from your support; she knew you were coming from a good place. Coach on the other hand is looking at you like you went up there and hit her yourself. He never liked when you were around, always insisting that partners were just unwanted emotional baggage that could wait until after the last punch was thrown. But Abby refuses to get in the ring if you aren’t watching from the sidelines.

“Not going out there without my girl, Coach - she’s my lucky charm.”

“Well your lucky charm has been making you late to training. Gotta get your head back to the task at hand. You can play housewives later.”

But tonight isn’t the night to bicker with Coach about things that won’t change. You will both always be here for Abby, and right now she needs you. You hold her gaze, giving a smile and a wink - “Are you seriously giving up this easy? You and me both know you’ve got it in you to bring this piece of shit down. Come on Abs…fucking finish it.”

Coach is clapping her shoulders in agreement, lifting Abby up so she can shake out the stiffness and get ready for the next round. What you hope to be the last round. You take your position back up in the crowd, and get ready to cheer for your, and her, life. The bell rings out.

Round 10.

____________

She makes every punch count, unleashing herself at Norris like a fucking beast. He doesn't know how to respond to it at first, taken aback at how quickly Abby has switched up her fighting style. The renewed vigour in her movements only enrages Norris even further, the confidence that this fight was his now starting to crack under the weight of Abby’s rage.

He still manages to land some blows, but it’s almost as if she’s stopped feeling them - blinded by the sheer animalistic instinct to push through and keep punching. A flurry of blows to Norris’ face causes him to hunch down and over for relief, but what he doesn't realise is that he’s just given her the perfect head shot from above.

The blow comes fast, and hard. You wince as her gloved fist makes impact with the back of his bent head, forcing his body further beneath her.

Norris goes down, face first into the canvas at Abby’s feet.

Knockout.

The volume of the crowd increases, if that’s even possible, counting along with the MC to ten to see if Norris has it in him to keep going. You’ve never been more relieved when he doesn't move a muscle.

8…9…10! KNOCKOUT!

You’re screaming, jumping with your arms in the air like a crazy person. She won. Abby won. The MC brings her to the centre of the ring, raising her arm with his to signal her victory. She’s shouting too, showing her black mouthguard mixed with the sight of fresh blood, unable to stand still as she takes a victor’s lap, celebrating her win.

Coach rushes up, gripping her in a bear tackle whilst you look on from the sidelines - still trying to come to terms with what you’ve just witnessed. She won. Against ‘Thunderstorm.’ This is what she’s been working towards for months, hoping for the chance to make her name known among the big leagues. Your girlfriend just put herself on the map, and it wasn’t about to go unnoticed…

____________

It takes a while for you all to make your way out of the stadium, fans constantly asking for autographs and pictures with the underdog-turned-champion of the night. It was nice to see. Finally, Abby was getting the recognition she deserves. Coach was eating that shit up, as expected, spreading the word to anyone that listened that we had a new heavyweight world champion in the making. Abby would get that glint in her eye at every mention of the ultimate title: world champion.

Her head might as well be made of glass, because you can see exactly what’s happening up in that brain of hers as she processes the weight of what’s happened tonight. She can see the prize that has never been in reach now that little bit closer. And she wants it. Bad. You go to remind her to take it one step at a time, but you know it would be received the wrong way.

A number of journalists and presenters were waiting by the entrance of the stadium as you emerged into the cold night. They rush you as soon as they spot Abby. You weren’t expecting so many people to come at you with cameras and microphones, reaching around, past, through you to get to her. A flurry of voices swarm the now enclosed space.

“Anderson, how do you feel after tonight’s knockout performance?”

“Who’s next on your kill list?”

“Are you staking your claim on the heavyweight belt?”

“How will you be celebrating tonight, Abby?”

Overwhelmed, you take a step back so Abby is ahead of you - Coach now placing his arm around her shoulders to also lean into the microphones held up against Abby’s mouth.

“The next fight is coming sooner than you think. Anderson is ready to take on any of these amateurs and claim the title that is rightfully hers.”

The interviewers all look to Abby expectantly, hoping she seconds the statements made. Of course she does. It’s Abby.

“I’m ready for the next fight. This is what I’ve been training for and I'm not going to slow down now. Put any fighter in front of me and I’ll deal a knockout to whoever wants one.”

You hear this and let out a long breath. This was the flaw that irked you most about Abby. She never knows when to take a break - to step back and appreciate how much she’s already achieved. Once she gets something, it’s on to the next. You just worry that she’s going to burn herself out.

As expected, her comment only invited them to ask more, now wanting to hear the name of the next person she wants to challenge and when that would be. Coach begins to move you all forward again, giving that cheshire smile he’s perfected and a sly “you’ll have to wait and see” - most likely aiming to leave some suspense in the air so more articles are printed tomorrow.

All three of you go to move through the reporters, making your way to a black SUV waiting just ahead. From where you took a step back, the crowd sees an opening and begins to slot themselves in between you and Abby, hot on her heels with more burning questions. When she turns her head to answer them, that signature smirk on her face is quickly replaced with alarm, then stone cold anger.

One reporter is physically elbowing you out of the way to get a better angle for his picture, the flash blinding you for a second, causing your head to snap the opposite direction.

You hear her voice ring out over everyone.

“Get your hands off my girlfriend and back away. Now.”

She pushes through until she’s in front of elbow-camera guy, who is currently regretting his choices now Abby is towering over him, his mouth slightly open with a mixture of awe and fear.

“Do you think it’s ok to treat a woman like that? Do you think you can push my woman out of the way and expect me to pose for a photo?”

He’s frozen to the spot, and Abby only raises her eyebrows in response. Taking your hand and pulling you to her side, she turns you both around after muttering “watch yourself” to the wimp you leave behind.

“Sorry baby” she whispers in your ear, thumb brushing down the side of your arm. Placing a hand on the small of your back, she leads you both through to the SUV and watches you get into the car before joining you. The voices now muffled; you finally release a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been holding in since the start of the night. She was fine. She’s safe. Everything’s ok again.

Now you finally have a chance to talk just the two of you - well, you and Abby and Coach - you want to make sure she isn’t serious about jumping straight into another fight. But when she turns to you, her eyes alight with pure happiness that you haven't seen in a long time, you decide to have that talk in the morning.

You have a champion to take home…

____________

The minute you get through the front door of your apartment, you’re leading her to the bathroom to get cleaned up. She’s got that dazed look in her eyes of someone in a dream. Only this dream is real, and you couldn't be happier for her. But God, does she look rough. Hot, always, but rough.

“Did you see how fast he went down when I threw that last punch, bubs? I felt like my chest was going to explode during those 10 seconds, it felt like a lifetime to wait. I need to start thinking about my next move with Coach and strategizing ‘cos I could never use exactly the same technique, these fighters are way smarter than any of those fuckin’ rookies I’ve fought before and-”

“Woah, Abs slow down.” You give a slight chuckle as she realises her rambling, holding her hands up in defeat - allowing you to lightly push at her shoulders so she can sit on the toilet. You grab the first aid bag in the cabinet, packed with the essentials that have come in handy many times through the years. The cutman at every fight has of course offered to clean Abby up, but you always took it upon yourself to take care of her wounds at the end of the night. You both liked it that way. You were gentler, caring.

Getting down on your knees in front of her, you get to work wiping the dried blood from her face, placing cold packs and plasters over her swollen cheek and jaw. She sits there in silence, patiently watching you do it all - her hands trailing over your face, neck, arms.

“ ‘m sorry for not noticing you got left behind…don’t want you to think I forgot about you or anything. I just get carried away with it all, ya know?” she mutters, cutting through the silence - cupping the side of your face with her hand as her fingers begin to brush through your hair. You close your eyes as you revel in the feel of it, nuzzling into her palm to give it a kiss.

“It wasn’t your fault, bubs. Besides, you came to my rescue in the end…like always” - you give another kiss to her open palm, reaching up to take her hand in both of yours so you can kiss her sore knuckles.

“Besides, it was kinda worth getting pushed just so I could see you make that guy absolutely shit himself.” You both burst out laughing, leaning in close to one another as if you were best friends sharing a secret. This was the Abby that only you saw. The one who didn’t have the weight of the world on her shoulders, who could just be and not think about the next move.

You whisper, “I’m so proud of you,” and she almost begins glowing with pleasure from your praise.

Abby pulls you in by your face, hands back to cupping either side, eyes turning mischievous.

“I nearly forgot…I have one more thing I need to do tonight.”

You grin up at her, “oh yeah? And what’s that?”

She leans in further, her mouth stopping to hover just next to your ear, whispering “I need to fuck you like a champion.”

Her hand comes down to cup you through your jeans, squeezing ever so slightly. You’d be lying if you said you haven’t been waiting for this ever since they declared KO, getting wetter by the minute just thinking about the moment when she fucks you good and proper.

“Come on baby…time for round 1.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson imagine #abby anderson fic #abby tlou #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou2 #i love abby anderson #tlou #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x you

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devildomwriter · 2 years

Text

Obey Me Fun Facts 431-440

• When Belphie and Beelzebub picked out accessories for Mammon’s human world outfit, he was so happy he bought them both outfits

• Belphegor is more at ease napping when his hood covers his head

• Apparently Diavolo’s wristwatch is more expensive than one hundred years worth of roast roc

• The DDD emoji, Blackjak (red Devil in black hoodie) is very popular in the Devildom

• The zombie iguana is very popular in the Devildom, Luke likes it so much that Simeon made a lunchbox with the zombie iguana theme just for Luke

• One thing that makes the Obey Me game devs amazing is that in non-English languages it’s very difficult to write without gender pronouns for the MC but the writers manage to do so anyway

• 3 out of 6 of the game directors favor Simeon

• 4 out of 7 of the brothers’ voice actors like Beelzebub the most while Beelzebub’s voice actor prefers Levi

• Satan has a birthmark on his back

• Mammon prefers R&B music

421-430 • 441-450

#obey me shall we date #obey me fun facts #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me voice actors #obey me beelzebub #obey me devs #obey me luke #obey me blackjak #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me simeon

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sirfrogsworth · 1 month

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It was 1991. I was 10. And the other white kids at my Catholic elementary school started getting into rap. And I always thought if I did what my bullies did, they would bully me less. So I got a cassette tape of Marky Mark and the Funky Bunch and the new "Hammer" album. He dropped the "MC" part of his name because he wanted to be taken more seriously as an artist and too many sketch comedy shows had made fun of parachute pants by that point.

So he was just Hammer.

Apparently I screwed up because they only liked the white rappers. Because they were all a bunch of little proto-racists. But that pretty much limited you to Marky Mark and Vanilla Ice. But I liked the way MC Hammer danced so I picked that out at the music shop.

Other things I tried to get on the good side of my bullies...

I learned how to play hockey (which I ended up really liking).

I had my parents get me a White Sox Starter hat. It had to be from that brand though. And despite being in St. Louis, it had to be the White Sox. For some reason it was cooler to root for a non-local team at the time. I guess that was the extent of edgy counterculture for 10 year olds.

I got shoes that had little air pumps in the tongue. You'd press a little basketball and it would inflate the top of your shoe.

Oh, and you had to get this Adidas jacket.

This was fun because it came in a bunch of colors but I got black just to be safe.

The Adidas jacket was my last attempt to get on the good side of my bullies. One of them took apart an ink pen and dropped it in my hood. I spent all day with it just jostling around and spreading ink everywhere. When I came home at night my mom noticed the entire hood was stained with ink. I cried my eyes out and she tried her best to clean it. And I think I got mad at her when she couldn't. I asked her to buy me a new jacket but I'm pretty sure they couldn't really afford to buy me that one to begin with. She assured me you couldn't even tell and no one would notice if I never used the hood. But the bully who did it knew and pointed it out the next day. And they all made fun of me for my ruined jacket.

I think it finally dawned on my tiny squishy brain that I would never appease these jerks no matter what I did. No matter how much I tried to fit in. And that's when I had the discussion with my parents to switch schools. They told me the only other option was public school. They worried there would be a lot more kids able to bully me. Because I was a weird kid and said weird things. But I wanted to try it. Plus, it probably saved them a bunch of money in tuition. My bullies all told me I was going to get stabbed because of the Black kids. But, in reality, it was the best decision I ever made.

It took me a little while to adjust. I had been so traumatized at my previous school that I had trouble controlling my emotions. So I would cry at the drop of a hat. And one of my teachers got upset with me because I'd cry if I got a bad grade or if I forgot my homework. One time my dog actually ate my homework and she didn't believe me and I cried, so my parents had to write a note for me.

But eventually I learned I was not actually a big weirdo as my bullies had said. I was funny. And I made people laugh. And they liked laughing. And it turns out, if you entertain people, they don't want to make fun of you anymore.

What was I talking about?

HAMMER!

Yes, that was my first CD.

And I liked 1 song on it.

Because Hammer got too serious and I wanted parachute pants.

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fayromance · 1 month

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What I don't understand is elves are not human they don't have what we have they don't live in human stuff like east Asia or Africa it's a fantasy realm hell fucking elves have green and gold skin a dark elf is not a black person at all they live in the damn dark or in a cave what black person lives there baldurs gate have dark elves that they aren't African American, it's really given racist that people think this.

If elves aren't human, then how come 4 MC options out of 6 look like your average run-of-the-mill white girls? Literally the only unusual feature they have is their ears. If they wore a hooded cape or something, no one wouldn't even guess they aren't just white women in medieval garbs. So here comes the question: why average white girls are allowed in this perfect fantasy world while everybody else (Black, East and South Asian, Hispanic, etc) should keep out?

It's one thing if all MC options looked distinctly non-human. Then you and the rest of the fans could say: MC isn't human, stop trying to attach human races onto her

But no, she looks very human and very white (save for two drow options)

So eventually it boils down to the double standard that white people are welcome in the fantasy genre and non-whites should stay away. Come on, it's 2024, this old racist idea should die already

#romance club #the thunderstorms saga #rc tiss #representation

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murder-cookie-dust393 · 6 months

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Hello! I am a fellow affogato (simp ahem) FAN-fan yes-fan

and I would like to request a yandere!affogato(with hypnotic abilities ofc) with a warrior reader who slowly falls for him and well

what happened next is up to you

(also Pookie bear may I be 🪻anon?)

Advisor in Distress

I'm just gonna be making apologies to my requesters from December so prepare yourself for a bunch of repetitive comments- Also, I think I did add you to my anon list, but I'll check just in case.

Disclaimer: I did not edit this, at all.

Tw: basically drugging but in small amounts, hypnosis

You knew who Affogato was. Everybody knew who he was. The grand royal advisor for his majesty. From your knowledge, he could be quite the snarky one. He would come to your comrades to comment that they haven't trained properly or guarded the citadel's walls.

You hated it when he insulted your friends and higher-ups. You knew they were doing their job as best as they could and were doing anything but slacking off. But it seemed Affogato wanted to do everything but be appreciative of them.

That was until a few weeks ago.

He started to hang around where the warriors were more frequently. Often going up to you and praising how hard you were working or how strong you were. It was weird and quite creepy. You were the only one getting this barrage of praises, so you felt like your comrades weren't getting enough.

So most days you ignored him or just answered with a nod.

But today he had more to give. All the warriors within your group had gotten incense sticks from Affogato as a present. Yours looked slightly more purple, but you didn't pay much mind to it. When you lit the sticks in honour of your dead comrades, there was a certain smell.

The scent had a heavy espresso smell along with a hint of cream. It was a pleasant one to be around. As you kneeled before the incense pot, you felt a sudden dizziness come over you. You steady yourself with a hand to the ground, but some thoughts start rushing through your mind.

The royal advisor did look extremely pretty last Tuesday. Was it his eyes? Or was it his elegant walk? You aren't sure. You brush it off and go back to your post.

——————————————————

The night is evident by the darkened sky and the glowing stars. The citadel is asleep, except for a few guards ensuring the safety of the kingdom. Through the shadows and dim spaces, a cookie in black robes swiftly passes by the silent halls.

They slide the door open to one of the many rooms for the warriors. The cookie steps inside without a sound, shutting the door with careful movement. They take off their hood, revealing none other than Affogato himself.

He kneels by the sleeping mat, watching the warrior sleep; the warrior being MC Cookie, his dear beloved. He smiles a wicked and loving grin. "Oh, how long will it take for you to fall in love with me? I need someone to protect me once I'm ruler, you know~" He whispers to them, expecting no response.

He leans closer, so close to touching their blanket-covered body now. "I've waited far too long. Everything will be in my grasp: the kingdom, the people, and you. My sweet knight." The advisor pressed a light kiss onto their cheek before leaving the room. No trace was left except for a small incense burning on top of a dresser; hidden from plain view.

——————————————————

(Jealous twink needs his protector- honestly goals)

(This was pretty fun to write! Honestly, requests aren't that bad once you start writing them. It's the effort to start them that's hard).

- Celina

#cookie run #yandere cookie run #cookie run x reader #cookie run kingdom #crk #yandere #yandere x reader #crk x reader #affogato cookie #affogato cookie x reader

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blueraineshadows · 5 months

Text

Blood Bound Part 9

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

MC escapes the shadows she must walk through in the arms of her Auror, whilst Sebastian takes matters into his own desperate hands.

14.3k words. Tags: NSFW / angst / crime ring / murder / death / blood / fighting / mentions of torture / anxiety / violence / sexual tension

Chapter Master List and Ao3

Reading tag list at the end, let me know if you want to be added ❤️✨️

Nine: Revelio

The shadows were her friends. They were her cloaks through the crooked nooks and paths of Knockturn Alley, and she made use of them, slinking through the night like some kind of nocturnal wraith as she maintained a watchful eye on the Ashwinders. With each night that passed, she became more comfortable with being outside of four walls, although the cloying smog of London was still something to suffer after the fresh, sea air of the Cornwall coast.

Standing across the street from the Black Rose pub, MC pulled her robe a little closer about her slender frame to ward off the chill. The nights were now colder as October moved them towards winter. She eyed the crooked door of the notorious drinking hole, debating the wisdom of entering. She had seen Rosier around a few times, watching him from a safe distance after their run in a week ago. She had seen Carrow, too, his face like a mask fit for nightmares. These were hard witches and wizards who frequented this place, and she needed to be sure of herself before entering their midst.

As much she hated to admit it, she needed Sebastian, and it surprised her how much that thought grated along her nerves. An unsettling strain of resentment had buried itself in her chest, the few times she had glimpsed him made her stiffen as she thought of the endlessly long hours she had spent locked in darkness whilst he roamed free. Free to be whatever he wanted, and he had chosen the path of darkness. He had put himself in the bed of the enemy.

The thought of approaching him after all this time filled her with confusing emotions. On the one side she longed for it, her fingers caressing the scar on her palm with the same reverence she always had, but there was another side that filled her with trepidation. She wasn’t sure how it would feel to have his eyes on her again, the fear that she would resent it made her tremble more than the night air. Putting it off was only prolonging the inevitable, and yet she hung back, lingering alone in shadows still while he roamed as he pleased.

She needed to make the first move, get it done, rip off the bandage and maybe start the healing process. If there could be one. Her emotional scars were deep and twisted, and she suspected she would never be the girl she once was. That girl died in Azkaban, and now she needed to figure out what was left.

Drawing upon her well practised shields, MC stepped from her shadowed corner and walked slowly towards the door of the Black Rose, her heart thumping with erratic flutters as she reached out and pushed against the old wood. This was madness, and yet her legs carried her smoothly over the threshold, her face an indifferent mask and her eyes glittering with hardness as she entered the smoky bar room.

The dark haired man behind the bar waited with a curious gaze as she approached, her hood still up and casting a shadow across part of her face.

“A pale ale, if you would be so kind,” she said quietly.

With a nod he turned to meet her request, and she swallowed, risking a glance around the room from beneath her hood. Nobody was really paying her much attention, the bar often saw strangers come and go she supposed. As a tankard was placed on the bar before her, she drew out a coin and placed it down beside it, proud of how she refrained from trembling as she did so. “Thank you.”

Taking a sip of the cool ale, she perched herself on a bar stool, her ears and eyes alert to her surroundings. The comforting press of her wand at her hip reminded her that she had the power to protect herself now. She was stronger than she looked. With her ancient magic, she could devastate this entire room in one move. The thought almost made her lips twitch with a smile, but she kept her face carefully indifferent.

Just when she thought she could manage this little adventure without interference, a figure approached her with a confident sway of hips, blonde curls framing her beautiful face. Up close, MC could see the delicate dusting of freckles across Luella Rookwood’s nose, and the look in her eyes that suggested self assurance. She eyed MC curiously, her head tilting slightly as she tried to get a better look under the hood of her robe.

“I’ve not seen you here before,” she said, her voice laced with a French undertone. She leant casually against the bar. “What brings you here tonight?”

Dislike, thick and searing, coursed through MC as she stared at Luella’s pouty mouth and glowing skin. Healthy and strong, beautiful, and close to Sebastian. Any misgivings MC may have felt about her connection to the boy from her youth seemed to vanish under the cold twist of envy that claimed her stomach. It made her shields thicken, and her gaze turned icy as she fixed it upon Rookwood’s daughter.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” she said coolly, placing her tankard down unfinished.

Luella’s gaze narrowed slightly. “Careful, now. You’d be surprised what my business is around here.”

MC smirked and slowly slid back her hood, revealing her full face and hair to the room. People were starting to take notice now, and she stood so that she was on a level with the far too confident witch. Luella’s eyes widened slightly, her pretty mouth parting as she stared.

“Oh, I know what your business is, Miss Rookwood,” MC said, allowing her inner darkness to form behind her eyes, the slightest flicker of blue and white glowing as she glared at Luella. “Perhaps it’s not me who should be careful.”

“So, the ancient magic witch finally shows her face,” Luella said, recovering quickly, but she was rattled. MC could see it in her eyes.

MC smiled, cold and hard on the outside, whilst inside she was screaming and wanting to run. “We finally meet, Miss Rookwood. I hear your father wishes to speak with me. Do tell him I dropped by,” she said, turning for the door.

Pausing, a wicked gleam lighting her eyes, she glanced back at Luella. “Oh, and while you’re at it, say hello to Sebastian for me. Now, there’s a handsome face I look forward to seeing again. Our reunion is long overdue.”

Luella stiffened, her face rigid as her eyes almost bulged. MC felt a sweet satisfaction as she stepped out into the street, her heart hammering at her own audacity. Before anyone could dare approach her, she pictured a destination firmly in mind, the practice of Apparation becoming more and more familiar to her now. In the blink of an eye, she became a swirl of darkness and then vanished, her boots hitting the floorboards of a small living space lit by a single lamp.

Pressing a hand to her tight chest, MC took a steadying breath, still surprised at herself for goading Luella like that. She wondered if the smug bitch would actually say anything to Sebastian. Had Rosier? These small steps into the vicinity of the Ashwinder group were leading her deeper into trouble. She just needed to keep her head and not blow the cover. Not just because bringing Rookwood down would be satisfying, but she didn’t want to let Leander down either.

Her eyes moved slowly about the small living room of the London flat, everything neat and in its proper place. The fire had burned down low in the grate, but the room still clung to some warmth. She stepped quietly across towards the bedroom. The door was ajar, and she slipped quietly inside. Leander had fallen asleep whilst reading, his book open and face down upon his chest. His face was soft and peaceful, and she was reluctant to disturb him, so she lingered beside the bed watching him for a moment. It scared her how attached she was becoming to him, the lines of his face so familiar to her, his scent and warmth meant safety and comfort in a way she had not expected.

A few days ago, he had brought her to London and invited her into his private home, allowing her to come here whenever she wished. He didn’t have to do this for her. He was just a probation Auror that she had to report daily to, and by rights she should have found herself somewhere to stay by now, and yet she kept coming back to his flat. This was more than a job. Whatever it was between them had deepened into something that was heavier than just friendship, but they were not a courting couple. They couldn’t be. Looking at him now as he slept, remembering all the ways he had helped her with kindness and respect, she knew she was far too dark and damaged for the likes of him.

Leaning forward, she carefully lifted the book from his chest, his long fingers languidly moving as he shifted in his sleep. Making sure to bookmark his spot, she placed the book on his table, glancing back towards him to find him blinking sleepily.

“You’re here,” he mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?”

“A little after ten,” she said quietly, slipping her robe from her shoulders and placing it on the chair. “It’s alright, you can go back to sleep. I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He watched her through sleepy eyes as she continued to remove her clothing, piling them on his chair until she was in just her chemise as though she had every right, an unspoken agreement that she would be sleeping here seeming to exist between them.

“Did you see anything interesting tonight?” He asked, his cheeks turning pink as she climbed up on the bed beside him.

“I had the misfortune of meeting Luella Rookwood,” she said, her mouth twisting into a sour smirk. “Don’t worry, I resisted the urge to cast an Unforgivable on her. I was actually rather polite.”

Leander’s expression was rather sceptical as she slid herself under the blankets, making herself comfortable in the welcoming warmth beneath. “What did you say, exactly?”

“To tell her daddy I said hello. Oh, and I reminded her that Sebastian and I were due a little reunion. I thought she was going to hex me for that little comment, and so I took my leave. Let her stew over that for a while.”

A slight frown appeared on Leander’s brow as he settled back down into the bed beside her. MC lay on her side facing him, seeing the way he was fidgeting with a button on his pyjama shirt, his teeth catching at his lower lip. He was thinking, perhaps about the unspoken situation that was building between them. She had mentioned Sebastian, something she usually avoided because it had the potential to lead them towards some rather loaded questions.

“You are going to come face to face with Sallow at some point, probably sooner rather than later now that you are spending time near his haunts,” he said quietly.

“I think I am going to need him,” she sighed. “He will be able to help me infiltrate the gang, I’m just a bit uncertain about how that will play out depending on his allegiance.”

Leander turned to look at her, his eyes glittering in the almost dark of his room. “You sound unsure about it, MC. Are you worried about seeing Sebastian again?”

Her fingers absently sought out her scar, the niggling worry that her inability to turn against Sebastian might prove detrimental to their plan if he really had chosen the dark side. She swallowed past the tightness in her throat, reminding herself that she was in a safe place here.

“I don’t know,” she said, dropping her gaze to the mattress. “Seeing him the other night just seemed to remind me that he has spent the last four years living a life I know nothing about. There was a time when I thought it would be me and him against the world, and now I’m not sure I even know who he is anymore.”

“I don’t think he has changed all that much,” Leander said, turning fully towards her, their faces mere inches apart. “I have my own very selfish reasons for wishing that you never had to see him again, but I know that, despite everything, he is someone important to you. I’m sure you are still someone important to him, too.”

Meeting Leander’s gaze, her heart squeezed at his noble and generous spirit, her fingers reaching to touch gently at his temple. Stroking lightly towards his hair, her hand cupped against the strong lines of his cheek. Perhaps he underestimated just how important he had become to her, slowly weaving a web of complex feelings around her that left her confused and scared, as well as curious and alive. She didn’t want to hurt him, but couldn’t seem to stop running back to him despite knowing that things were not going to end with rainbows and roses. It never did with her.

“I can’t imagine you ever being selfish, Lee,” she whispered, her fingers sliding over freckled skin.

His hand settled over her hip, fingers grasping gently. “Yes, well, sometimes you come across something that you just don’t want to share with anyone else,” he said, his usual soft voice darkening into something unexpected, his grip on her hip subtly tightening as he closed the gap between them.

This spark of possessiveness sent her confusing feelings spinning madly, her pulse quickening as she realised they were crossing lines that were becoming more and more dangerous. Her gaze dipped to his soft, full mouth.

“I should stop coming here, you know…” Her lips captured his mouth, despite her weak protest. “It’s becoming a rather dangerous habit…” She kissed him again.

The hand on her hip grazed feather-light touches down towards her knee, his fingers splaying as he slid his palm up her thigh in a slow, deliberate caress that ignited the fire in her blood. “So, stop,” he murmured against her mouth, stealing a firmer kiss of his own in retaliation.

Opening her mouth to offer up a sassy comeback failed as he swirled his tongue past her lips, her words dying in her throat as her eyes closed and her hands urged him closer. Apparently, she couldn’t stop. She was sliding down a slope with no idea what awaited her at the bottom, but she was going down there with him anyway.

Leander

Friendly chattering, and the soft glow of the lamps inside the bar room of the Leaky Cauldron made for a cosy atmosphere, the tension of a day tracking a band of poachers through the New Forest beginning to ease from Leander’s shoulders as he wrapped his large hands around his tankard of ale. The poachers were a part of the Ashwinder network, and whilst his attention had been mostly focused on MC’s infiltration into their midst, there was plenty of field work to wade through on top of all that. A beer and a catch up with an old friend seemed the ideal way to spend his evening.

Across the table from Leander sat Garreth Weasley, his sandy red hair curling and flicking outwards from his freckled face, his brow creased in concentration as he wrote inside his small order notebook. Pausing, he twirled his quill, brushing the delicate feather against his lips as he raised emerald eyes to Leander with a mischievous twinkle.

“So, restoring potions, essence of Dittany, your regular healing tonics, and a restock of the old faithful contraceptive potion,” he listed, his eyebrows lifting in a teasing wiggle. “It’s been a while since you ordered the baby blocker brew, Lee. Something you want to tell me? Sounds like you’re getting lucky.”

Just like that, Leander’s shoulders hunched with anxious tension as his cheeks flooded with heat, his eyes glancing up around the bar as he twisted his tankard on the table top. “Shush, Garreth, for Merlin’s sake,” he grumbled, shifting in his seat. “I don’t want the whole pub to know.”

Garreth brightened with curiosity, leaning towards him over the table top. “Nothing to be embarrassed about, mate. So, who is the lucky witch? Anyone I know?”

“I…I…” Leander faltered, cringing slightly as he realised that telling anyone about sleeping with MC could prove dangerous, no matter how much he wanted to boast to Garreth about it. That information could end up being whispered into the wrong ears and jeopardise the mission. He frowned and shook his head. “I’m just being prepared, that’s all.”

Garreth gave him a long, considering look between narrowed lids, his lips widening into a grin. “Alright, then. Keep your secrets,” he winked. “Aside from your mysterious bedroom adventures, how’s the Auror life treating you? Working on anything exciting? Oh yes, I saw in the Prophet that our murderous school hero was released. I bet that caused a little stir in the office.”

“Don’t call her that, she has a name you know,” Leander muttered, his blush darkening. “And you know I can’t talk about work stuff outside the office.”

Garreth slowly put his quill and order book away, giving Leander a careful look. “After all this time, you still carry a soft spot for MC,” he said, tilting his head. “Doesn’t it bother you, what she did?”

“It’s all very well listening to idle gossip, or reading whatever the Prophet deems print worthy, but not everything is as it seems, Garreth,” Leander said, fiddling with his tie. “You shouldn’t judge without knowing the whole story.”

“And, you do know?” Garreth lifted his brows with interest.

“I couldn’t possibly reveal Ministry information,” Leander said tightly.

“You’re rather twitchy and full of secrets this evening, Lee,” Garreth said, a slight crease appearing on his brow. “Is everything alright?”

Leander sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, Garreth. I’ve been working on a large case, and it’s a really important one. I guess I’m a little stressed, hence the beer.”

He lifted his tankard with a tight smile, taking a sip and licking his lips. It was so easy and almost cliche to blame his tension on work, a convenient get out clause to avoid talking about the real anxiety that had a choke hold on his emotions. As he gazed across at his old friend, he wished he could admit how deeply he had got himself into trouble over a girl, not just any girl either. The murderous school hero who was sharing his bed, an ex-convict with a notorious ex lover she was bound to by a dark magic pact.

Garreth was a light hearted, lovable chap. Life was simple in his corner of the world, and Leander wondered if he would have any wholesome and useful advice to give him. No doubt his response would be to keep a distance between himself and MC, and Leander didn’t want to hear that. It was likely to be the best advice, a warning his family would no doubt impress upon him, too.

But, it was her. MC had slowly embedded herself under his skin, staring into the endless possibilities her eyes held, he was drifting on a tide he felt powerless to swim against. Behind that tough exterior there had been flickers of fire, a warmth as she lay in his arms and brushed her fingers through his hair. Deep down, he knew it was doomed to end one day, she would get up from his bed one morning and it would be the last time. She would slip out of his reach, and he would have to let her go. But, for those precious hours when she did slide in beside him, pressing her body against his in a silent plea, he savoured every moment.

Garreth took a drink from his own tankard and considered Leander. “I hope you’re not pushing yourself too hard, mate. I know how much your job means to you, but don’t lose yourself along the way,” he said, placing down his tankard with a smile that was rather serious for him. “I understand that you can’t talk about specific details, but if there is anything you do want to talk about, then I’m here if you need to, alright?”

Leander bit his lip, the words balanced on the tip of his tongue, but he felt the presence of his Auror badge in his pocket. The weight of it carried the responsibility of the oath he took, an oath that he had already betrayed more than once since taking this Ashwinder case on. MC must remain his secret.

“Thanks mate, I appreciate it,” he said, nodding. Leaning his elbows on the table top, he fixed a smile on his face. “So, what do you think of the latest Chaser signing for the Chudley Canons?”

Garreth’s face lit up at the mention of Quidditch, and their conversation switched into much lighter tones, a distraction that Leander most definitely needed.

….*….

The briefing room was already rather full with Aurors when Leander arrived for a meeting the next morning, his cheeks flushed from his mad dash here after being held up, the intoxicating warmth beneath his bed covers making him reluctant to rise and ready himself for work. He had left MC in the comfort of his bedroom, her tousled hair spread across the pillows, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead before Disapparating out.

A mug of tea was thrust into his hand by an assistant, Leander smiling his thanks as he took a seat next to Odessa, her delicate perfume teasing at his nose.

“Good morning, Prewett,” she smiled, crossing her trouser-clad legs elegantly. “I thought you weren’t going to make it.”

“Sorry, I slept in. Late night,” he blushed, dipping his gaze to sip at his tea.

“You weren’t having fun without me, were you, Prewett? I’m still waiting for that date.”

Saved from having to answer that question by Harrington calling for their attention, Leander gave Odessa a quick smile, before fixing his gaze on the elder Auror who was leading this case. Harrington was dressed in his suit, his greying hair neatly combed, and a serious expression darkening his blue eyes.

“Good morning, folks. Time for our weekly update on Rookwood and his Ashwinders,” Harrington said, getting straight to the point. He flicked his wand towards the hovering blackboards, arranging them behind him in a row, each board containing case notes and highlights. Using his wand as a pointer, he moved towards the first board. “Good progress on the poaching ring yesterday in the New Forest. It seems the Sweetings are tracking a potential Golden Snidget nest, although our Aurors on location have acquired the assistance of a Magizoologist in order to help protect these endangered creatures.”

Leander rolled his shoulders, still feeling the effects of tracking through the forest yesterday in search of the poachers camp. He sipped some more tea, avoiding Odessa’s gaze as Harrington continued.

“Unfortunately, there has been another theft of a valuable and rare item,” Harrington sighed, moving to the next board. He pointed towards Rookwood’s name written in chalk at the top. “We know this bastard enjoys collecting rare and beautiful things, and the scene of the crime suggests that Ashwinders were behind this particular theft. Annoyingly, the Muggle Royal Family is involved in this one.”

“What was stolen?” Odessa asked, leaning forward, her eyes lit with curiosity.

Harrington grimaced. “The bastards looted Hever Castle in Kent, entering the secret vault hidden beneath the castle from prying Muggle eyes. They took some gold and spell books, but the most valuable item they pilfered was the famous pearl necklace worn by Anne Boleyn.”

Soft murmurs of surprise were uttered around the room as Andrew Larson stepped forward with a parchment, holding it out towards Harrington. Leander recognised the image printed on the parchment as Harrington held it up. It was a portrait of the English queen who had lost her head in The Tower in the 1530s, heralded as a witch and a traitor to her King and country. She was innocent of being a traitor, but the Wizarding World knew her as one of their own.

“We all know this portrait of Anne Boleyn. The original hangs proudly in the halls of Hogwarts, and she is wearing the very necklace that was stolen this week. It’s a string of pearls with a gold charm in the shape of the letter B,” Harrington said, his gaze roaming around the room. He paused on Leander. “I want eyes peeled and everyone on alert for a sighting of this piece of jewellery so that we may return it. Needless to say, Buckingham Palace is keen to see it in their possession. It has been held in secret for hundreds of years, and they do not want to see it in the wrong hands.”

Leander nodded, making a mental note to mention this to MC. Harrington moved on to his next board, updating everyone on the recent sightings of various gang members. As Andrew Larson passed Leander’s chair, he paused, bending to speak near his ear.

“Come and see me afterwards, Prewett,” he whispered. “I have something for you.”

Leander met his gaze and nodded, a look of understanding passing between them. Anticipation flooded through Leander at the prospect of what Andrew had found in the archives regarding MC.

Pulling out his notebook, he tried to focus on Harrington’s voice, jotting some points down as he tried not to fidget in his chair.

“How are things with our little spy?” Odessa asked as they stood, the meeting over. “Is she behaving herself?”

Leander tucked his notebook away and fiddled with his tie. “MC is fine,” he said, holding back his smile. “How are things with you? Did you manage to track down that lead at the port of Dover?”

“Indeed, I did,” she nodded, smiling as he held the door open for her. “The shipments coming in from Norway seem to be of particular interest to the Ashwinders, I’m not sure why yet, but I intend to find out.”

Her eyes seemed to sparkle at the challenge and he smiled as they walked along the corridor towards their cubicles. “I’m sure you will. You strike me as the determined type.”

Her smile was incredibly feline and she touched her hand to his arm, her eyes lit with a teasing twinkle. “Maybe one day you will find out just how determined I can be,” she murmured, leaning slightly closer. “Especially when you take me for that drink. Friday, Prewett. You and me, The Leaky Cauldron.”

Leander’s mouth worked, words failing him as a blush stained his face. He couldn’t possibly agree. It wouldn’t be appropriate considering he was sharing a bed with someone else. “Odessa…”

She was already strolling towards her desk, throwing him a cheeky wink over her shoulder. “See you Friday.”

….*….

Leander took the file from Andrew, flipping it open to see the neatly inked words within. “You found this rather quickly,” he said, impressed at the amount of information enclosed.

Andrew shrugged, his smile a little bashful. “It’s surprising what you can find when you really get into the search. Once I found one record of ancient magic, I found a trail that led to others. This is what I have uncovered so far, but what’s most puzzling about the trail is how fragmented it is. If I’m not mistaken, I would say some information has been deliberately left out.”

“That’s what MC was expecting, I think,” Leander said, frowning as he noticed a parchment with more recent information written down. He studied the page more closely, his eyes widening when he saw MC’s name and a date that could be her birthday. “Are these MC’s birth records?”

He lifted his shocked gaze to Andrew. MC’s file had no details of her birth or blood relatives, only her records from the orphanage in London where she had been raised. Andrew nodded, his eyes hesitant. “I don’t know her that well, Leander, but some of the information I found about her might change a few things if people were to discover the truth. I promise I won’t speak a word of what I found, and if I were you, I would keep that file under lock and key.”

Leander swallowed, his eyes dropping back down to the page, scanning the details further. “No way,” he gasped, eyes darting back to Andrew.

Andrew nodded, his look pensive. “Yes. I was shocked, too. You might want to break the news to her gently.”

Leander sank slowly into the nearest chair, reading over the information again, just to make sure his eyes had not deceived him. Shock numbed his limbs, the implications of this information sending his thoughts scattering in all directions. His hands actually trembled as he closed the file and gripped it tightly on his lap. Somehow, he was going to have to hand this information over to MC, and he wasn’t sure how she was going to react.

“Are you alright, mate?” Andrew asked, putting a cautious hand on Leander’s shoulder. “You’ve gone rather pale.”

Leander looked up at Andrew, nodding with uncertainty. He licked his lips and smoothed his hand over the top of the file. “I’m not entirely sure how she will take this news, but I’m glad I will be the one to tell her.”

Andrew bit his lip, his hands slipping into his pockets as he regarded Leander. “You er…you have grown rather close to MC since working on this case,” he said awkwardly, scuffing the floor slightly with the toe of his smart shoes. “I could sense the familiarity between you the last time you were here, and your request was not your regular Auror request. Don’t get me wrong, it’s fascinating. I just hope you know what you are getting yourself into.”

“I’m just trying to help her, Andrew. She doesn’t have anyone else, at least I didn’t think so,” he said, glancing down at the folder on his lap. “This file rather changes all of that, doesn’t it?”

“That really all depends on what she chooses to do about it,” Andrew said with a shrug. “Whatever she decides, just be careful, Leander. Don’t get yourself hurt.”

Oh, he was already in far too deep to climb back out now. Taking a deep breath he got to his feet, reaching out to shake Andrew’s hand. “I appreciate your help, Andrew. I owe you one.”

“You’re welcome,” Andrew said, shaking his hand firmly. “I will keep looking through the archives when I get a chance. There might be more to discover. These Keepers that MC mentioned have me curious. I’ll let you know what else I dig out.”

As he left the Auror Office, the file hidden with a vanishing charm in his possession, Leander pondered how he was going to hand it over to MC. He would have to do it tonight when she returned from her nightly spying on the Ashwinders. He didn’t want this lingering over his head, not something this big. Plus, MC had a right to know where she came from.

Sebastian

The cool air was thick with the scent of old paper and leather, rich tones of wood, and a lingering pinch of dust. The quietness settled over Sebastian like an old cloak, and he savoured the familiar and comforting feel of being inside a library. Walking slowly through the huge stacks, he gazed at the laden shelves, his eyes scanning the titles as he pondered how different his life could have been had things worked out differently. Perhaps he could have found contentment working within the safety of bound knowledge, pursuing his thirst to discover and learn. That life felt so far out of reach that he couldn’t even call it a dream. Those you could chase, and he didn’t think he would ever get the chance to make that idea a reality.

Pausing at the section he was searching for, he ran his fingers against the spines as he chased down the particular book he was after, a text recently published that he had heard about that might prove useful, no matter how far fetched. The author, Nora Treadwell, had undertaken research about the renowned wizard Merlin, and the curious puzzles he had scattered around the Highlands of Scotland. Sebastian had spent many hours helping MC solve some of those puzzles when they were kids, and they had speculated about their creation after MC noticed traces of her ancient magic around them. Not one to pass up the prospect of delving deeper into lore, Sebastian wanted to see what Nora Treadwell had to say on the matter.

Finding a copy of the book, he tucked it under his arm and found a quiet spot to sit and read The Trials of Merlin, his unruly hair falling across his forehead as he bent over the pages with a frown of intent.

….*….

Dusk was drifting over London, the sky deepening into the glow of the autumn sunset as Sebastian strolled through Knockturn Alley, one hand in his pocket, and the other settled close to where his wand sat ready in its holster. One could never be too careful at the best of times, let alone when the shadows were beginning to lengthen. As he walked, he let his gaze wander carefully over the cloaked figures he passed, appearing nonchalant in his manner, but ever mindful that MC could be hidden behind any corner. He didn’t want to miss her a second time.

As he approached the turn that would take him to the Black Rose, he met with Rosier who was leaning against a brick wall as though waiting for him, his handsome smile as charming as ever as he nodded towards Sebastian.

“Evening, Sallow. I wondered when you were going to show up. You’ve been gone most of the day.”

“Just gathering some information,” Sebastian smirked, pausing beside him. “Did I miss anything?”

Rosier gave him a knowing look as he took a drag on his cigarette. “I’ve not seen any sign of your pretty witch, if that’s what you mean,” he said, shaking his head. “Not much else has happened either. Unless you count Marvolo hexing that aggravating poacher that keeps playing the dodgy hand at cards.”

Amusement curved Sebastian’s mouth as they began to walk again, making their way towards the pub. “I’m surprised it took him this long, to be honest. She was blatantly cheating. Any news on Rookwood?”

“Funny you should ask,” Rosier said, his eyebrows lifting. “I hear he will be making an appearance this evening. It seems his little friend, Black Dahlia, has crawled out of the woodwork.”

Sebastian’s face darkened with a scowl at the mention of Rookwood’s informant, his dislike of the shifty witch blending with fury and mistrust ever since she had sent him into the horror of that prison and he had come out empty handed. There was something about her that made his skin itch. Devious and smug, her eyes still bothered him. Whatever enchantments she used to disguise her face didn’t work on her eyes, and he knew he had seen them before somewhere.

“I wonder what she could possibly be telling him,” he muttered, his stomach clenching with apprehension. If Black Dahlia was about to blow MC’s cover, then that could put the kneazle amongst the jobberknolls.

Rosier shrugged. “You know Rookwood. Everything is on a need to know basis, but I think he will be meeting with her tonight given his impending arrival.”

Deep in thought as they entered the pub, Sebastian considered the possibility that Rookwood might still allow MC to enter the gang despite knowing what she was really there for. She could be walking straight into a trap that would end with her ancient magic being extracted from her, and absorbed by Rookwood himself. The very idea made his spine feel like ice, his fear like claws around the back of his neck.

An idea was forming in his mind, and it turned his stomach if he had to be honest about it, but he just couldn’t risk MC walking into danger. No matter how powerful her magic could be.

“There’s something I need to do,” he said, patting Rosier on the back. “I won’t be long.”

“Anything you need some help with?” Rosier asked, a curious look in his eyes.

Sebastian shook his head, his face lighting up with one of his confident smiles despite the twisting feeling in his gut. “Nah, I’ve got this one.”

Stepping out of the pub, Sebastian didn’t think Rosier would even believe him if he told him where he was going. Moving into the deepening shadows, he pictured the fine house he had checked out a while ago down near the Thames, and Disapparated with a swirl of black.

The lights were lit inside the house giving a welcoming, warm glow from the windows, so somebody was at home. Sebastian climbed the neatly swept steps and eyed the fancy brass knocker, wondering if it would be the pretty wife who answered the fine front door as he knocked. Footsteps sounded from the other side, and when the door swung open, Sebastian grinned.

“Just the man I was wanting to see. Good evening, Andrew,” he greeted, with a nod of his head.

Andrew Larson frowned, a tinge of pink flushing across his cheeks as glanced nervously back over his shoulder. “How the bloody hells did you find me, Sallow?”

Sebastian tapped his finger against the side of his nose and winked, his cockiness shielding the true twist of his emotions as he faced the straight laced Ministry worker. “I can’t be revealing all of my secrets now, Larson. Don’t worry, though. I’m not here to cause trouble.”

“Then, why are you here?” Andrew demanded, his hands fidgeting with the hem of his very smart waistcoat.

Sighing, still not entirely believing that he was actually going to do this, Sebastian fixed Andrew with a serious look. “I need to get an urgent message to Prewett. You can either tell me where to find him, right now, or promise me that you will get word to him immediately.”

Andrew looked irritated, his blush deepening as he shook his head. “I’ve told you before…”

“This is urgent,” Sebastian insisted, cutting him off, “It’s about the case he is working on with MC. If I don’t tell him what I know, then MC could be walking into a trap.”

Andrew stilled, his mouth parted as he considered Sebastian’s words. Swallowing hard, he nodded, pushing his fingers through his blonde hair. “Alright,” he conceded. “I will send a message. What is it you need him to know?”

Sebastian looked up towards the sky above his head. For once, the stars were visible, the smog had cleared for a while. It wasn’t quite the glorious, open display he was used to seeing as a boy, but it was enough to give him some hope. Bringing his gaze back to Andrew, he took a breath and set his look to one of determination.

“Ask Prewett to meet me in one hour. I will be at the Floo point near Gringotts. He must come alone, and tell nobody. He can’t risk the snitch in his office finding out. I hope you understand how important that is.”

Andrew paled. “Merlin’s beard,” he muttered. “Of course. I’ll send the message right away.”

Leander

Arriving home, the file feeling heavy in his pocket, Leander unlocked the door and entered to be greeted with a strange burning smell. He closed the door and MC turned to him from the little stove, a sheepish look on her face.

“I tried to cook dinner,” she said, grimacing as she gestured towards the pot on the side. “It didn’t go well.”

Pressing his lips together, Leander moved further into the room, trying to hide his amusement at the forlorn look on her face. A glance into the pot revealed a charred looking mess, and he wrinkled his nose. “What was it?”

“Beef hot pot,” she said, folding her arms, her chin tilting upwards defensively. “You said it was one of your favourites.”

The simple gesture of trying to cook for him had his cheeks turning pink with pleasure, no matter that she had probably ruined his cooking pot in the process. Touched at the thought behind it, he slid his hand along her jaw, gently cupping her face as bent to press a slow kiss against her forehead. “You are adorable,” he murmured, a smile curving his lips.

She wrinkled her nose and playfully shoved him. “Hardly,” she scoffed, but a blush was staining her cheeks. She looked down at the ruined dinner and sighed. “I guess we shall have to find something else for dinner.”

She rarely smiled, but tonight her face seemed softer, her lips teasing at one as he looked down at her. The file sat in his pocket like an exploding snapper waiting to go off. He hesitated, his hand lingering near his robe, ready to take out the file and hand it over to her.

“What’s wrong?” She asked, her face dropping. “Are you upset I ruined your pot?”

“No, no, of course not,” he assured her, his hands slipping about her waist. He held her close, their gazes meeting, his pulse flickering. “Let me fix us something to eat before you go out this evening,” he suggested.

“Or, I could stay in tonight?” She suggested, her teeth catching at her lower lip.

His gaze dipped to her mouth, his pulse picking up even more speed. As he was about to lower his mouth to hers, a loud tapping noise came from the window, both of them turning to see a gorgeous snowy owl on the ledge with a letter.

“That’s Andrew’s owl,” Leander said, frowning. He released MC and moved to open the window, the owl relinquishing the letter and nudging his hand for attention. Leander fed her a treat, scratching affectionately under her chin before she took off over the London rooftops. Tearing open the envelope, he noticed MC had moved closer towards him to have a look.

Gryffindor,

SS found me, he has an urgent message regarding the young lady you are assisting. She may be in danger. He wants you to meet him by the Floo outside Gringotts at 6.30pm. He also requested that you go alone, and tell nobody who might alert loose lips. Be careful.

Ravenclaw.

Leander read the note twice before lifting his eyes to the clock on his mantelpiece. He had 45 minutes until the meeting time.

“I’m going to assume this is about me,” MC said. He turned to her, his stomach sinking at the next words out of her mouth. “Who is ‘SS’? It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Sebastian.”

He nodded. “I think we can safely agree that it's him, yes.”

Her face hardened, the earlier softness disappearing. “I’m coming with you.”

“No,” he said firmly, tearing the parchment in two and throwing it into the dying flames of the stove. “If he sees you with me, he will be suspicious. We can’t be certain where his loyalties lie. Besides, this could be a trap.”

MC huffed, moving to keep herself in his sight. “All the more reason that you need back up,” she insisted. “Let me help you. That’s what I was let out for, right?”

“I will have some back up,” he said, thinking quickly as he glanced at the clock again. “I’ve got time to speak with Harrington first. He can come along, hang back and keep watch while I see what Sebastian wants.”

MC folded her arms, planting herself firmly in front of him, her gaze determined. “If you think I’m going to sit here like a good little girl, you can think again. This is about me, and I’m coming. I’ll hide if I have to, I’ve been doing a lot of that this week whilst creeping around Knockturn Alley.”

The fiery determination that flared in her gaze was one of the traits about her that drew him in. Staring at her now, he found himself weakening under that look, ignoring all the sensible parts of his brain and his Auror training, because he found it so difficult to refuse her. Rubbing his hand against his forehead, he sighed.

“Fine, you can come along,” he relented, catching the flicker of a satisfied smirk on her lips. He wasn’t completely foolish, though. “You can wait with Harrington while I speak with Sallow. At least you won’t get into any trouble that way.”

Now, it was his turn to smirk as she grimaced, her arms falling to her sides as her little hands curled into tight fists. He took her robe from the coat stand and held it up for her, his expression clearly implying that it was this way, or not at all.

“Fine,” she huffed, thrusting her arms into the soft, black robe. He adjusted it on her shoulders, smoothing his hands over them and down her arms before spinning her to face him.

The time was drawing ever closer to her reunion with Sebastian. Watching him from a distance was one thing, but being in his company was quite another. The little glimpses of softness she was offering to him were lodged firmly behind his ribs, the endless depths of her gaze his inevitable downfall. He really wasn’t sure he was ready to lose all of it, but at this moment, it felt as though she was about to slip through his fingers.

He cupped her face, her eyes widening slightly as he dipped his head, claiming her mouth in a firm kiss. She stilled, but then responded, kissing him back, her fingers grasping his arms. When their mouths parted, she looked up at him. “What was that for?”

His smile was almost sad as he tucked some loose strands of hair behind her ear. “Because you’re beautiful,” he said softly. “Come on, let’s go.”

Sebastian

He barely felt the prick on his finger tip, the blood welling up swiftly into a ruby orb before he smoothed it over the surface of the old compass. Closing his eyes he muttered the charm, aiming his wand towards the location device and bonding himself to it. Relaxing his pose, Sebastian picked up the compass, the needle spinning erratically at his close proximity to it. Whoever held this in their possession would be able to track him for the next 12 hours or so.

He didn’t particularly relish the idea of giving someone that much power over him, but if it meant he could help MC, then it was worth it. Tucking the compass safely into his waistcoat pocket, he pulled on his black coat and envisioned the Floo point outside Gringotts bank before Disapparating away to meet with Prewett.

Diagon Alley was dark and quiet, the lamp lights reflecting off the slick cobbled street after a recent shower of rain. Sebastian avoided the patches of light, lingering in the shadows as he waited. There was a bite to the air this evening, his shoulders hunching as he rubbed his hands together to keep them warm. Nerves tingled down his spine and he frowned, adjusting his collar as he reminded himself that he could take Prewett if he had a need to. He still couldn’t believe he was here, willingly about to assist an Auror.

The sound of approaching footsteps had him on alert, his hand smoothing over the familiar feel of his wand as he withdrew it. The tall frame of Prewett appeared out of the darkness, his robe swaying softly in the light of the street lamp as he walked towards the Floo point. He had his wand in his hand, his profile cutting an impressive line against the backdrop of the street. Sebastian stepped from his dark spot, moving in a casual but ready stroll.

“You made it, then,” he drawled, spinning his wand. Leander turned to face him, nodding once in greeting. “I did wonder if you would come.”

“You said it was urgent,” Prewett said, not moving too close as they sussed each other out. “What did you need to tell me?”

Sebastian glanced up and down the street, no sign of anyone else nearby. “Where is she, then?” His eyes narrowed as he studied Prewett, checking for any tells as he huffed and shook his head.

“How would I know? You said to come alone, and I’ve not told anyone. So, come on, out with it. Some of us have got work to do.”

Twirling his wand slowly, Sebastian suspected that Prewett knew more than he would admit about MC. Ominis had found them together at the Ministry, even hinting that there was something almost friendly between them both. It made Sebastian’s skin crawl with envy to think of her smiling at Prewett, the very idea that this insufferable goody-two-shoes could make her happy made him want to smash something.

He had no choice but to rely on Prewett, though. If they had anything in common, it was their affection for MC. Prewett wouldn’t be here if he didn’t care about her.

There didn’t appear to be anyone else nearby, but that didn’t mean anything. Anyone could be hidden, watching this scene play out. Another Auror, perhaps, to back him up. What was to stop them getting their information and then arresting him on the spot? He had to be quick and careful, suggest his idea before anyone could get too excited with a wand. Sebastian stepped closer, holding up his hand as Prewett raised his wand.

“I know you have a snitch in your office,” he said, lowering his voice. “It’s a woman, but she disguises her face with a charm. I don’t trust her. She told us details about MC at Rookwood’s request. He is up to something, and I don’t like it.”

He had to be so careful what he said, not revealing too much, but letting slip just enough to gain some trust. He could see Prewett thinking over his words, his teeth worrying at his lip.

“We know there has been a leak,” Prewett said, keeping his wand at the ready. “What is Rookwood up to? You said MC could be in danger.”

Sebastian couldn’t resist a sly smirk, baiting Prewett about MC was just too easy. He could see the worry in his eyes, in the tone of his voice. “Rookwood wants her power, Prewett, and he is using the snitch to find out what he can about MC,” he said. “He is meeting with her later this evening. She goes by the name Black Dahlia. If you’re willing, I can lead you to them.”

“Why would you do that?” Prewett narrowed his eyes.

“Because you are not the only one who cares what happens to MC,” Sebastian said simply, taking the compass from his pocket. “Here, take this.”

Tossing the compass forward, Prewett caught it easily, turning it over in his fingers as he studied it. “A compass?”

“It’s been charmed with my blood. It will follow me,” Sebastian explained. He slipped his wand back into its holster as Prewett held up the compass, his eyebrows lifting as it clearly pointed towards Sebastian. “Track me to the meeting point, and you will have your snitch.”

Prewett turned the compass over in his hand thoughtfully. “What’s in it for you?”

Sebastian shrugged, not really willing to unload the thoughts in his head to a man that could easily be classed as an enemy. He dared not say too much, slowly backing up away from the tall Auror. “You can owe me one,” he smirked. “Follow the compass, and catch your snitch. If you see MC, tell her I miss her, and that I am looking forward to seeing her again.”

He caught the subtle tightening of Prewett’s mouth, the downward turn of his brows. The tug of war between them over MC was nothing new, something that had begun in their school days, and now continued as adults. The stakes were higher now. Life outside of Hogwarts was darker and more dangerous, no professors to watch over them. Sebastian cared not for the authority of the Aurors, and he knew how to play dirty if he had to.

MC was obviously watching him, turning up outside the Black Rose that night, appearing in the bar itself a few days later. If she truly was planning to infiltrate the gang and spy for the law, then it was only a matter of time before she was within his reach again. He just needed to be patient.

Despite this, he couldn’t resist having a dig at Prewett, his smirk devilish as he disappeared into the shadows before Disapparating swiftly to The Black Rose.

The breeze cut sharply across the back of her neck, making her huddle under the soft material of her robe as she peered down into the street below. Perched on the rooftop of a Diagon Alley shop, MC could see Leander as he stood near the Floo point, talking to a stocky figure that was partially hidden by shadow. Both men were holding their wands, and she could only imagine the kind of taunts that Sebastian was throwing Leander’s way. The slow creeping worry that this was a trap hadn’t left her, and she held her own wand out ready. It would burn her blood to cast against Sebastian, but she wasn’t about to see Leander get hurt on her account either.

“What are you thinking, little bird?” Harrington asked quietly. He was crouched down nearby, keeping watch on the men below alongside her. “I hear you’ve been stretching your wings and keeping an eye on these bastards. Do you think lover boy is setting a trap?”

MC shifted slightly, pulling her robe closer around her with her free hand, but she kept her gaze fixed below. The term ‘lover boy’ could now be applied to both men down there, but Harrington couldn’t know about her and Leander. It was their secret. “Why do you think I insisted on coming along? You may be skilled Aurors, but I can bring down an entire room in the blink of an eye, and Sebastian knows that.”

“He doesn’t know you’re on our side, though, does he?”

MC shrugged, her eyes glittering as she threw a glance his way. She didn’t like him, not one bit, and it was clear the feeling was mutual. “That all depends on how loose the lips are on your snitch, doesn’t it?”

Smirking at Harrington’s frown, she returned her attention back to the street, and realised Sebastian was backing up. “It looks like they are done. That was quick.”

Leander waited for a few moments before Apparating, appearing on the rooftop beside them with a pop. He shifted into a crouch, holding out a worn compass and filled them in on what Sebastian had told him.

“The snitch is a woman?” Harrington said, scratching his chin. “Smart to use a disguising charm, I must say, but bloody annoying when it comes to identifying her.”

“Do you think it’s a trap?” Leander asked, studying the compass. The arrow spun a few times and then settled, pointing in one direction. Leander followed it with his eyes. “If this really is tracking Sallow, then he is in Knockturn Alley.”

“Let’s follow him and find out,” MC said, a restless feeling settling over her.

“You’re not going anywhere, little bird,” Harrington said, firmly. “I indulged your request for this meeting, but you need to leave the Auror business to the Aurors.”

“Are you kidding me?” MC scoffed, an irritated frown darkening her face. “If you were doing such a good job on your own, you wouldn’t have needed to release me from Azkaban to do your dirty spying for you. Plus, I’m more powerful than the two of you put together.”

Harrington’s face darkened with a flush as he raised an authoritative finger up at her. “Now listen here…”

“Enough!” Leander hissed, holding his hands up at both of them. “There’s no point bickering amongst ourselves. MC, if you’re seen with us, then the game is up. They will know not to trust you.”

She wasn’t going to back down, folding her arms and tilting her chin upwards, her eyes flashed with determination. “I know how to stay hidden,” she said stubbornly. “If this is about me, then I want to be there. I particularly want to lay eyes on Rookwood if I can. I still find it hard to believe that the bastard is alive.”

She may have seen it in Leander’s pensieve memories, but she needed to see it with her own eyes. She turned her attention to Leander, knowing that he would be easier to persuade. Guilty of using his affections for her, she softened her gaze slightly, and she saw his resolve waver.

“You really think you can stay back and not get involved if things become difficult?” Leander asked, earning a huff from Harrington. “You cannot blow your cover, not even for Sebastian.”

Harrington’s gaze narrowed on her and she shifted slightly, but her resolve to accompany them remained. “I won’t blow my cover,” she agreed. “However, you had best make sure you aren’t on the receiving end of any curses so I don’t have to.”

“Is that so?” Harrington asked, his gaze narrowing even more as he glanced between the two of them. “How touching.”

MC felt her cheeks burn and she bit her lip, resorting to sarcasm. “Oh, I’m sorry. Am I not living up to my super villain persona?”

Leander rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. “I could go alone.”

“No!”

Both MC and Harrington had spoken at the same time, the pair of them glancing at the other in surprise. MC immediately stiffened her spine as she got to her feet, the two Aurors following suit. Leander held out the compass, the needle still pointing towards Knockturn Alley. “Sallow doesn’t seem to have moved yet,” he said.

MC moved closer towards him, linking her arm firmly around his. “And when he does, I’m coming with you.”

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” Harrington said, sighing as he looked at them both.

“What other choice do we have?” Leander asked. “This could be our only chance to catch whoever is leaking out information. The danger of MC’s cover being blown is higher because of the snitch more than anything else.”

“Alright, fine. We will do it your way,” Harrington said, waving a hand in resignation as he settled back down against the rooftop ledge. “I guess all we have to do for now is wait.”

Leander met her gaze and she gave him a small smile, her eyes softening as she gave his arm a subtle squeeze. She wasn’t about to let him go, not even when he moved to sit down as Harrington had done. Huddled together on the rooftop, she leant against Leander’s solid frame, telling herself it was to keep warm as they waited.

It wasn’t too long before Leander gave her a nudge, her head lifting from where she had almost dozed off against him. He held up the compass. “Sallow has moved,” he said, looking over at Harrington. “It’s time.”

Sebastian

The distant rumble of a muggle train echoed down the tunnel, the atmosphere tight with tension as torch light flickered against old stone. Rookwood stood calmly checking his fingernails, wearing his usual long coat and top hat. He seemed unconcerned, and yet Sebastian was bristling with apprehension. Black Dahlia could reveal MC’s plans to spy on the Ashwinders, blow her cover and place her in even more danger than Sebastian already suspected she was in. The nagging worry about the magic extraction still played on his mind, and now he had handed over a tracking device to an Auror that placed himself in a rather dodgy situation, too. What was to stop Prewett barging in here with a horde of Aurors and hauling them off to Azkaban? If the Dementors didn’t get him, then Rookwood would in revenge.

“Why are we meeting her in the tunnels?” Sebastian grumbled, shifting his weight to his other leg as he glanced down towards the entrance again.

“Why indeed?” Rookwood smirked, dipping his hand inside his coat pocket and pulling out a very old looking wooden box. He smoothed his fingers over it with reverence. “Demanding a higher price means higher stakes, Sallow. I chose the meeting point this time.”

Something that felt suspiciously like anxiety began to creep over Sebastian as he eyed Rookwood and the old box. “What’s that you’ve got there?”

There was a gleam in Rookwood’s eyes as he held it up. “This old thing?” With a slow smirk, he creaked open the lid. “Just some old necklace a Queen used to wear. I doubt she will miss it seeing as she no longer has a head.”

Sebastian recognised the string of pearls and its pendant immediately, his eyes widening in shock. “You’re not going to give Anne Boleyn’s necklace to Black Dahlia are you?”

Rookwood gave him a sly look. “Why am I not surprised that you recognise it? The goons I sent to steal it had no idea what it was, the fools,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You don’t think our little friend has earned a treat, then?”

“No,” Sebastian huffed. “I don’t trust her one bit.”

Rookwood only smiled, the box disappearing back into his pocket with a subtle turn of his hand. “That makes two of us, my dear boy. Why do you think I insisted you accompany me this evening?”

The tension in Sebastian’s shoulders tightened, but he kept his face as neutral as possible as he shrugged indifferently.

“If Black Dahlia doesn’t tell me what I want to hear, then you get to make use of those delectable Crucio skills of yours, Sallow. I don’t like to be disappointed, and should she let me down, I want to hear that bitch scream before I decide how to punish her. Down here, there is less chance of her being heard.”

“What is it you want her to say?” Sebastian fought back the bile trying to rise in his throat, the memory of almost losing himself the last time he cast the torture spell crowding into his thoughts.

Rookwood smiled that irritating, smug smile of his as he adjusted his coat, standing all expectant as though waiting for something pleasurable to arrive. “Let’s just say I’ve asked our little friend to do some deeper digging about our elusive prisoner. I’m hoping she is as good at finding buried treasure as she is at clever disguises.”

The effort to maintain the tight control over his emotions was almost strangling as Sebastian stood there beside Rookwood, his eyes tight and adrenaline kicking in something fierce, as they waited for Black Dahlia to arrive. If she had pleasing news for Rookwood, then he was going to need to think fast, because under no circumstances could he allow her to say it.

All of that with the potential for an Auror ambush weighing him down, and all Sebastian could do was wait. Whatever happened, Black Dahlia would not be walking out of here with that necklace, not if he had anything to do with it.

It struck her as a little ironic that she was stalking Sebastian Sallow with two Aurors cloaked in the very spell he had taught her to hide herself. She clung to the shadows still, her presence barely a shimmer as she remained a few feet back from Leander and Harrington while they followed the path of the tracking compass. Sticking to more traditional methods and walking, MC felt the tiredness creeping into her legs, not used to so much exercise. It didn’t help that they appeared to be wandering in a circle, and she sighed as Leander paused, frowning as he glanced around the street and back down at the compass.

Harrington leaned forward to get a look. “It’s just spinning erratically. Where the bloody hell is he? I knew this was a bad idea. Sallow is a trickster, make no mistake.”

Disappointment flooded through MC as she bit her lip, fearing that Harrington was right. It worried her that Sebastian had gone too far and she wouldn’t be able to pull him back. It made her fear that she would fall into darkness, too.

She dared to creep closer, pausing beside Leander as she watched the arrow spin. “He should be right here,” she whispered. She glanced up at the buildings around them. “Do you think he could be above us?”

“Bloody hell, you’re a genius,” Leander said, his face brightening. “Maybe not above us, but what about below. In the tunnels.”

Harrington clapped him on the shoulder, nodding firmly. “You’re right, lad,” he said. “Time to go back underground again. Stay close, little bird, and stay out of sight.”

Both her arms and legs were aching now as she climbed down a ladder, shivering as her hands grabbed at the cold iron. Leander had gone first, checking the lower tunnel out as she descended, Harrington waiting above. Descending into a dark tunnel didn’t exactly inspire much excitement, if anything she was pressing down on tendrils of dread, flashbacks of dark stone and the distant crashing of waves making her chest tighten. She was near the bottom when she felt warm hands grazing against her thighs, gently sliding upwards to cup her hips and help her down. This time her shiver wasn’t because of the cold.

“Careful, there is water down here,” Leander murmured close to her head.

“I’m surprised you could see me,” she whispered, turning to face him, only the barest glimmer suggesting she was even there.

“Lucky guess,” he smiled, his hand caressing up over her waist. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” she nodded, even though he couldn’t see it. Staring up at his face, she allowed some of her guard to slip knowing he couldn’t see her expression, her face soft and her eyes burning at the feel of his hand at her waist.

Anxious about what might happen down here, to him, to Sebastian, worried about herself being discovered too soon by Rookwood, she took this stolen moment before Harrington arrived to savour being this close to Leander before she had to step away. She reached up, her fingers ghosting across his jaw, her thumb grazing his lower lip.

“Don’t get hurt, alright?”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about me,” he whispered, his eyes searching the space where her head should be as he placed his hand over hers. “Leave the worrying to me, MC. I’ll be fine.”

The ladder shuddered behind them, and they moved away, parting from each other as Harrington huffed his way to the tunnel floor. MC moved back from them both, her fingers grazing against Leander’s once more. She did worry for him, it tightened her chest, the fear of losing him so very real as she stared down the length of the tunnel. She hated to admit it, but she agreed with Harrington. She had a bad feeling about this.

Sebastian

Black Dahlia and her brown eyes remained the same irritation as ever, her face a vague and plain visage that made him blink with uncertainty if he tried to focus on it for too long, but he could make out the smug smirk that twisted her lips as she stood before them. Rookwood had offered a glimpse of her prize, those brown eyes igniting with greedy excitement before he had snapped the lid shut again, the box vanishing into his coat before she could make any move.

“So, what do you have for me?” Rookwood asked, holding out his hand with a flourish.

Black Dahlia shifted, bowing her head slightly as she cleared her throat, almost rivalling Rookwood in the dramatics department. Sebastian watched her carefully, his stomach tied up in knots and his hand at the ready to aim his wand. There was a tension in the chilly air, he could feel it, tight and hot at the back of his neck.

“As far as any official records go regarding MC, there are very few,” she began. “She lived as a muggle until her arrival at Hogwarts when she was 15.”

Rookwood rolled his eyes and sighed. “Yes, yes, we know all that. Get on with it.”

“Well, that’s just it, Mr Rookwood. There are no other files, unless they are buried deep within the archives, or they are inside the Department of Mysteries. I do, however, have some interesting information from the case that will benefit you. Perhaps that will be enough?”

Her eyes dipped greedily to his jacket where the box had disappeared, and Sebastian wrapped his fingers around the handle of his wand. This bitch was about to blow MC’s cover, and all for the hunger over a piece of jewellery she had no damn right to.

“What kind of information?” Rookwood asked impatiently.

She stiffened, her brown eyes darkening as she fixed them on Sebastian. “You dare to draw your wand on me, Sallow? Interesting…”

Sebastian could feel a bead of sweat trickle down behind his ear, his heart thudding double time as he stared at her. The flicker of a memory flashed behind his eyes, an office with paperwork scattering through the air…adrenaline pumping thick and fast, a pair of brown eyes, determined and feline.

“You’re an Auror,” he said calmly, recognition sweeping through him.

She chuckled, waving off his words with a delicate shrug. “Oh, Sebastian. Always trying to outsmart everyone, aren’t you?”

Risking a glance at Rookwood, Sebastian could see the hesitation, the first glimmer of suspicion as he watched them both carefully. Realising exactly who this bitch was, a plan began to form in his mind, especially if Prewett was on his way here. He withdrew his wand fully and aimed at Black Dahlia.

“You’re an Auror,” he said, firmly this time. “You chased me through the warehouse in Glasgow and attacked Miss Rookwood. How do we know there aren’t more Aurors lurking back there in the tunnel waiting for us?”

“Preposterous!” She scoffed, but a flare of panic lit her eyes. She even took a subtle step backwards.

Sebastian stepped forward, his confidence showing on his face. “Tell me I’m wrong,” he taunted. “It was you, wasn’t it. You found me in that office and chased me down the stairs.”

Black Dahlia shook her head but took another step backwards, her eyes turning to Rookwood. “I think your guard dog is losing his Gobstones,” she said, attempting another laugh. Her hand dipped slowly into her robe, clearly going for her wand. “Call him off, or I won’t tell you a thing.”

Before she had a chance to make a single attempt with her wand, Sebastian hit her with a basic cast, hitting her on the hand. She yelped, her wand clattering to the stone floor. As if they had timed it perfectly, Prewett and Harrington appeared in the tunnel behind her.

“Aurors,” Rookwood hissed, his icy eyes narrowing in hatred as he glared at Black Dahlia. “Do what you do best, Sallow.”

In a swirl of black, Rookwood was gone, and Black Dahlia paled as her gaze flicked from Sebastian to her wand on the ground. A slow, and dangerous smirk curved Sebastian’s mouth as he fell easily into a duelling stance. It was time to play.

Leander

Everything seemed to happen so fast, and yet any movement appeared sluggish as though slowed down. Harrington was running, his wand out, Sallow’s name on his lips as the first spells lit up the bricked curve of the tunnel. A woman in a heavy robe had rolled across the ground, snatching up a wand to fire defensive spells towards Sebastian. Leander hesitated for a few seconds, watching in fascination as Sallow attacked her with ferocity, his face livid with hatred. The speed of his movements, and the skill of his accuracy was something to behold.

Harrington cast against Sebastian, but he blocked it easily, firing off a lightning quick Stupify that sent Harrington crashing rigidly into the wall. That unstuck Leander’s feet from where they had been rooted to the spot, and he took off at a run, wand out.

The blast of Sebastian’s next spell lit the tunnel in bright red, the shooting blast cutting through the space with deadly accuracy as it hit the robed woman in her chest. Her cry echoed off the walls as she was thrown backwards, arms and legs flailing outwards, her robe flaring wide before she slammed into solid brick with a sickening crack.

Leander skidded to a stop, his pulse roaring in his ears as he stared, her body dropping to the ground like a ragdoll. She rolled, one arm slipping down into the gurgling rush of water that ran along the side of the tunnel, blood pooling thick and fast under her head and running down to swirl in the dirty stream. Gasping in a breath, he turned to Sebastian.

“What the fuck did you do?” He asked. The question was useless, but it was taking a moment for his brain to catch up with what he was seeing. “Is she…she’s dead.”

“It was going to be her, or me, and I don’t like losing,” Sebastian said, pushing a hand through his hair. He shook his head and shrugged. He gestured towards the dead woman, her glassy eyes staring up at nothing. “There’s your snitch, Prewett. I guess there won’t be any leaks from your office where she is concerned. You might want to check if your colleague is alright. I tried not to hurt him too much.”

Leander glanced at Harrington who was frozen rigid on the ground, but his eyes were pulled back towards the dead woman, a crease appearing on his brow as her face began to change. He moved closer, his palm sweaty around the handle of his wand where he was gripping it too hard. Her brown eyes, frozen in death, looked familiar, her nose moulding into a pretty little curve, her cheekbones becoming graceful and her jawline delicate. Everything being revealed was painfully familiar.

For years, she had worked alongside him, right through their training together, and then taking the desk next to his back at the office. He knew the scent of her perfume, could pick out her laugh in a busy room, and had looked into her eyes on so many occasions when she had indulged in her playful flirting with him. That girl had been vibrant and alive, crackling with energy and so skilled with a wand. This girl, laying on the cold, hard ground, was empty and lost as she stared upwards into the dark.

“No,” he said softly, beginning to shake his head. “No, it can’t be…it just can’t.”

Shock made his breathing turn ragged, his eyes blinking as he tried to deny the familiar face that was emerging from the disguise now fading after her death. He couldn’t deny the truth that was sprawled on the ground at his feet, her blood flowing into the dirty water, her face already pale and lifeless. It was Odessa. She was the snitch. This whole time, she had been playing her game, and he had been the fool to fall for it.

Sebastian

Guilt was a strange creature. He had felt it many times over the last few years, the bone gnawing horror of it, the sickening pull that made you nauseous, the tormenting dreams that came to taunt you in the small hours. Everyone always said that the first one was the worst, and his first killing had been a horrific, heart wrenching incident that had torn his family apart. It had almost destroyed him, taken his girls from him, and he still woke up sweating from nightmares. There had been others since then, his arm a decorated memorial to lives taken by his hand, and it really didn’t get any easier. Those who said that it did were liars.

The tunnel was eerily quiet, the trickling rush of water a constant sound that was occasionally accompanied by the distant rumble of a train. He could hear the thud of his own heart pulsing in his ears, that cold sweat on the back of his neck making him shiver as he watched Prewett see the unveiling of their office snitch. He wouldn’t say he had ever cared much for the tall Gryffindor, but the expression on his face brought a lump to Sebastian’s throat regardless. Clearly, he had known her. Maybe he was even close to her. The betrayal on Prewett’s face was heavy and painful to witness.

Looking down at Black Dahlia, her face now revealed exactly who he had suspected her to be. It was the Auror that had chased him in Glasgow. He wished he could regret killing her, but despite the guilt and the new mark he would need to brand into his arm, it was for the best. He had stopped her from spilling any information about MC, and Rookwood was none the wiser for a while longer.

Leander turned, his freckled face flushed red as he made a furious grab for the front of Sebastian’s coat. “What is it with you, Sallow? You always have to go too far, don’t you? You didn’t have to kill her! Look at her!”

Sebastian wouldn’t look, he didn’t need to. He would never forget her face, he never did with the ones he killed. He grabbed at Prewett’s wrists, surprised again at how strong he was as they struggled against each other.

“If you’re looking for an apology, you’re going to be very disappointed,” he said, grunting as he found himself being forced backwards, his boots scraping on stone. “I did you a favour, Prewett. She was a dirty snitch.”

“Bastard,” Prewett hissed, shoving him hard and making him stumble.

Immediately, Sebastian aimed his wand, but gasped in shock as two hands clamped around his arm, fingers digging in like claws. A shimmering shape began to solidify, his eyes widening and his lips parting in disbelief as a familiar face came into view.

Healthier than the pensieve memory he had seen, but still pale, MC glared up at him with eyes blazing. He knew those eyes, he dreamed about them all the time, and now she was finally here before him. He stared at her, the fight draining out of him immediately.

“MC,” he croaked, a dizzying and overwhelming rush of joy sweeping over him.

“Don’t hurt him,” she warned, her mouth set in a familiar, determined line.

Time seemed to dip out of existence as they stared at each other. It was hard to believe that she was actually standing there, that those fingers gripping his forearm were hers. Sebastian couldn’t tear his gaze from her. He was too scared to in case she disappeared.

He slowly lowered his wand, his eyes devouring the lines of MC’s face, sweeping down over her slight frame that was hidden by a long, dark robe. He opened his mouth to say something, but his mind had gone blank, he couldn’t find the words, and a simple ‘hello’ just didn’t seem right given the circumstances. His hand lifted, reaching out as if to touch her, but she let him go and stepped back.

Was that a flicker of fear in her eyes? She recovered herself quickly, her face becoming almost indifferent as she made to walk away, but he had seen something that almost crippled him.

This wasn’t how their reunion was supposed to play out. He had imagined this moment for years, ached for so long to be this close to her, and yet she felt further away than ever.

“Wait,” he begged, his hand grasping at her sleeve. She paused, that flash of vulnerability there, and then gone again as she stared at him.

“You should have stayed hidden, little bird,” Harrington said, shaking off the effects of being stupefied as he came to stand beside Prewett. “Step away from Sallow, now. He’s going down for murder. Quite the pair you two make, taking out Aurors like it means nothing.”

Both Aurors had their wands at the ready, and Sebastian was a wanted criminal. He had taken down one of their own right in front of them, no matter that she was a dirty snitch. He had still killed her. He tightened his grip on MC’s sleeve. Nobody was going to take her away from him. Not again.

“I know I should have stayed hidden,” she said, her chin lifting in that stubborn way of hers. It felt so good to see it, he almost smiled.

Prewett held out his hand towards her, and to Sebastian’s horror, she moved forwards. Refusing to let her go, Sebastian tugged her back, her gaze swinging back to him in alarm. Panic seized him. Why would she go to Prewett so willingly?

“Let her go, Sallow,” Prewett warned, a desperate edge to his voice.

MC turned to look at Prewett, her face softening in a way that Sebastian yearned for. “It’s alright, Lee. He won’t hurt me,” she said.

Sebastian felt that curling, hideous twist of envy solidify in his stomach as he watched them both. The look that passed between them was far too intimate for his liking, and he most certainly didn’t like the way she had shortened Prewett’s name. That screamed familiarity, and it sent a shard of ice through his chest.

“I would never hurt you,” Sebastian murmured, his voice hoarse. The haunted look she gave him tore him to shreds.

“Let her go, boy,” Harrington pressed, his eyes determined as he aimed his wand.

Four years ago he had been a broken teenage boy, and Harrington had come for MC, tearing her from his arms and dragging her away in nought but her nightgown. He hadn’t been able to stop it, and while he might still be that broken boy deep inside sometimes, his outer layers had become thicker and stronger over the years, and he had promised to himself that he would never let anyone take those that he loved away from him ever again.

This time, it was him Harrington wanted, but the stakes were the same.

Pulling MC towards him, he wrapped his arm firmly about her waist as her back hit his chest, her breath leaving her in a gasp. He saw the panic flare in Prewett’s eyes, the desperate way he reached out for her, but MC was his, she always had been. He held her tight and fixed a destination in mind. In a blink, they were gone from the tunnel, Prewett’s protest ringing in his ears.

They hit the dirt and rolled, cold night air stinging his face as he winced at the impact, but he didn’t let MC go. He felt as well as heard her gasping breaths, her body tiny and frail under the press of his arms, but she caught him by surprise. Her hands flailed and she bucked against him, slapping out at him wherever she could land a blow.

“What…did you…do?” She wheezed, thrashing like a wildcat. “Bastard!”

Her hands continued to hit out, but they were like tiny birds against the firm bulk of his chest. He scrambled to catch her arms, grunting in surprise as her fist landed with a smack against his jaw. As she hit him, she screamed through gritted teeth, her eyes wild and rolling as though she was in pain. He didn’t want to hurt her, but he feared that if he let her go, she would Apparate immediately, and he did not want that to happen. Grabbing her wrists, he rolled them both, pinning her arms above her head into the carpet of dirt and leaves.

“Will you stop? I’m not going to bloody hurt you,” he snapped.

Looking down at her, a jumble of emotions burst through him, pride at the fire she still possessed, joy at the sight of her beautiful face, and burning desire to feel those lips crushed against his. He had fucking missed her!

“Let me go,” she hissed, lifting her head and kicking her legs against the ground.

“No,” he said simply, his mouth curving into a smile. “I’ve waited a long time to see you, darling. If you think I’m going to let you go so easily, then you’re mistaken.”

He should have been ready when he saw the way her jaw tightened, the barest glimmer of her ancient magic searing the edges of those gorgeous eyes. Her knee slammed upwards and he groaned, relinquishing his hold on her and slumping sideways. She shoved him to his back and was instantly on him, her knees straddling his waist, her hands wrapped around his thick neck.

The little minx had winded him, his ribs expanding as he tried to catch his breath, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from her. Even though he felt the tight grip of her hands around his throat as he tried to swallow.

“That’s better,” she said, puffing from the exertion of their tumble. Her eyes roamed over his face and that flicker of vulnerability appeared in her eyes again, just before it was shielded with fierce determination. “You and I need to have a little chat, Sallow.”

He stared up at her, trying to remember the last time he had felt this happy. He didn’t even try to remove her hands from his throat. He lifted his arms above his head, hands open in a move that was uncharacteristically submissive. His mouth curved into another smile that reached his eyes.

“I’m all ears, sweetheart.”

To be continued…

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#hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow #mc x sebastian sallow #leander prewett x mc #leander prewett #blueraineshadows #blood bound

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