#black tapered pendant lighting

[lilmissjbstyle]

Master Bath in Sacramento Remodeling ideas for a mid-sized master bathroom with a double sink, white walls, recessed-panel cabinets, brown cabinets, a quartz countertop, a hinged shower door, white countertops, and a built-in vanity.

[mewhenimanangel]

spiderboy, miles morales x fem!reader

part 1! ʚɞ part 2 ʚɞ part 3 ʚɞ part 4 ʚɞ part 5

pairing: earth 1610! miles morales x reader

synopsis: you didn’t think anything of it when you bumped into miles on your first day at visions. it slowly became one of the best things to happen to you.

wc: 1.9k

warnings!: cursing

You got ready for your first day at Brooklyn Visions Academy. Your mom had decided to send you there for better "academic challenges" or whatever. You were nervous but found solace in knowing you'd already have a friend there, Zoya Hart. You’ve been friends since the third grade, absolutely inseparable.

You put on your uniform skirt and finished your makeup. New school, if you didn't make a good first impression, at least you’d look good. "Y/n hurry up! I've gotta go!" your mom called out from the kitchen. "Mommy just go! I can walk" you applied her lip gloss in the mirror. "Ah-ah, you're gonna be late. Hurry up"

You rolled your eyes spraying perfume over your body. Grabbing your backpack you shoved in your books and pencil case inside. "Wait mommy I need to fill up my water bottle" you rushed to the fridge and pressed it against the water dispenser. "Come on!" your mom yelled walking over to the door. "Wait I need my headphones!" you ran to your room to grab the earbuds sitting on the dresser, quickly scratching your cat's head "Bye Bobo" you breathed out before rushing out the door. "Baby it's school what do you need headphones for?" your mom grew irritated. "If I don't have these, I'll literally kill myself"

"Aye, I told you to stop saying that!" you both walked out the door, locking it. Getting in the passenger seat, you checked her appearance on her phone, fiddling with the nose piercing that sat on her nostril. Your blonde box braids were in two pig tails, edges laid flat. You wore a gold necklace with a pendant in the shape of a bow, you loosened the tie around your neck. "I hate this stupid ass uniform" your mom laid a smack on your thigh. "Watch your mouth!" "Ow mommy sorry!" you exclaimed rubbing your hand over your leg.

You plugged your earbuds in, listening to music until you saw the school in the distance. Your heart sped up as you took her headphones out, tucking them in her backpack. "Alright baby have a good day okay. Make me proud, I love you" your mom said giving her a kiss on the cheek. "Love you too mommy bye" you replied getting out of the car as she drove off.

You opened up your phone to Zoya's contact.

'i'm here and i'm shaking where are you??' you sent a text.

'in the principal's office'

'surprise baby i'm your tour guide :P' Zoya replied.

You felt yourself bump into another body. Looking up from your phone you saw a boy with a dazed expression on his face. The boy wore a pair of Jordan 1 bloodlines, a tiny spider-man figure on his backpack. He was about four inches taller than her and a bit lanky, his skin dark brown. His hair was a taper fade with kinky curls, his eyes were dark brown almost black shade as he stared at you.

"I'm really sorry about that" you apologized putting your hands out in front of you "Ah it's cool, no worries" he brushed off with a smile. "Um do you know where the principal's office is?" you asked looking around. "Yeah, I can show you. Are you new here?" he asked leading you down the hall to the right. "Uh-huh" "New to New York?" he asked again. "Nah my parents just thought this would be a better school". He nodded his head as they came to the front door of the main office. "It's the one on the left. I've gotta get to class though. I'm Miles by the way" he said, waiting for you to respond. "Y/n" you replied with a smile.

He walked away when you made your way to the principal. "Y/n!!" Zoya exclaimed, going to hug the girl. She had a light tan complexion, pink lips and a bright white smile. Her hair was a beautiful ginger color with her curls falling past her shoulders. Zoya was about two inches taller than you, wearing a pair of platform doc marten 8053s. Her 'Z' necklace rest on her chest along with your matching bow necklace.

"Ugh I am so glad your parents sent you here!" The man behind the desk cleared his throat, alerting the two girls of his presence. "Oh sorry, Y/n this is Mr. Hale, our principal." He reached out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you, Ms. L/n". She smiled as she shook his hand "Nice to meet you too, sorry I'm late" "No matter, it's your first day, just don't let it be a frequent problem." he sat back down in his chair.

"Alright, here's your schedule, look over it while i pull up your file" he handed you a piece of paper with all of your classes for the day.

'English Language Arts 11' 8:30 AM

'Modern Us History' 9:34 AM

'Ceramics 1' 10:38 AM

'Algebra 2' 11:42 AM

'Lunch 2' 12:45 PM

'Physics' 1:19 PM

'Sociology' 2:27 PM

He gave you all the information she needed: locker number and code, teacher's names, grade expectations, your guidance counselor's name and office, etc "Alright, I'll have Miss Hart here show you around." he said as the two of you made your way to the door. "Have a good day and good luck settling into your new classes. It's only September, so I'm sure you haven't missed much." he bid goodbye.

You and Zoya got to your locker as you attempted to put the code in. "Right, left, right" Zoya instructed. The locker popped open and you sorted out your things. You saw Zoya look over her shoulder at her sister, Maya. "Aren't you supposed to be in class?" she asked the girl. "Yeah, but I don't wanna be" Maya replied giggling. "Heyy, n/n! I forgot you were coming here." Maya said hugging you. "I'm giving her a tour of the school" Maya said, opening her phone to take a quick selfie with you. "Oou can I come?" Maya chirped. "Youu have a class to go to." Maya rolled her eyes and left you two to start your tour.

Zoya intertwined her arm with yours as you walked through the school. She showed you the gym, the library, the cafeteria - all huge. She showed you the student council room, the dorm halls - which wasn't necessary since you wouldn't be staying there, they made their way over to a big window in the main hallway which overlooked a courtyard where she found people sitting outside and a teacher have a class.

"This place is so fancy, shit" you exclaimed. "Ahhh it's aight" Zoya joked. Anyways, let's get you to class." It was 8:45 now and Zoya knocked on the door of your first period. "Meet me at lunch, good luck" Zoya kissed your cheek and walked away. "Well class, we have a new student joining us, Miss Y/n L/n"

Your day went pretty normal, people were nice enough to you and you talked to a few people, making their acquaintance. The bell rung which meant it was time for you to go to lunch and finally see your friend again. You sent her a text asking her where she was sitting when you bumped into someone again. "Woah, gotta stop meeting like this" the boy said letting out a light laugh. "Yeah, my bad" you let out an awkward laugh. "You have lunch now too?" he asked you "Yeah, actually I'm waiting for my friend-" you was interrupted by a hand on your shoulder.

"Hey, I'm starving let's go in the line" Zoya said. "Oh you know Zoya?" Miles said, dapping her up. "Yup, since third grade." "Cool well see you around, preferably not bumping into you" he joked and walked away with his friend. "How do you know Miles?" you asked her as you walked over to the lunch line. "Classes, plus he knows Peter." she replied, getting a cheeseburger and fries. "Why, do you think he's cute?" she teased . "Oh he's realll cute" you giggled.

You made your way over to a table where Peter, Maya, and a girl you didn't recognize were already sitting. "Yoo, n/n how you liking the school" Peter said, as he dap you up. "It's alright, fancy as fuck though" Zoya sat down next to Peter, giving him a kiss on the cheek, while you found a seat next to Maya. "Hey, I'm Kiona" the girl you didn't recognize spoke up. "Y/n, you're so pretty by the way" you smiled at the girl. "Aww thank you, you too"

Lunch ended as you and Peter parted ways with everyone. "Physics is brutal but Mr Johnson is chill as fuck" he informed you walking into the class. Peter took his seat as Mr Johnson spoke up "Ah, Miss L/n, nice to meet you. You can take a seat back there next to Morales" he pointed to the back of the room where Miles was sitting, already looking at you. You smiled at the boy and made your way to the back. "Hey" he whispered to you . "Hi" you replied. "Didn't know we'd have this class together. Shoulda told me" "You didn't ask" you joked, opening a notebook.

The bell rung and you got your stuff together "Hey what's your next class?" Miles asked, stacking his notebooks. "Sociology" you answered, putting papers in a folder. "Ah I don't have that" he said, disappointed. "Walk you to class?" he offered. You looked around and saw that Peter already left, so might as well. "Yeah, sure".

"This isn't going to make you late is it?" you asked him. "Nah it's in the same-". All of a sudden Miles tensed up and there was a loud booming noise coming from outside. Everyone in the hall, including you and Miles ran to nearby windows to see what was going on and here was a fire emerging from a bank down the road. You looked to your side to see that Miles wasn't there anymore. Out of nowhere, spider-man swung over to the bank stopping the guys who were trying to rob it. Everyone cheered when he brought the guys out, tied up in his webs

When school ended, Zoya and Maya came up to your locker as you were packing up to go home. "Hey n/n, you going home?" Maya asked, biting into an apple. "Yeah, it would be cool if i stayed in the dorms. Buttt that's mad money spending so nah". You gave the girls a hug and made your way out the building. "Oh Y/n, you're not staying in the dorms?" Miles asked, coming from the nurse's office with a few bandaids on his face and bandage on his arm. "No, what happened to you?" you asked pointing at his face. "Tripped down the stairs on the way to seventh period". You stifled a giggle and nodded your head. "Uh you want me to walk you home?" he offered.

You furrowed her eyebrows in confusion "You don't really have to do that.." "O-oh uh I was just offering, I'm not super busy right now and didn't want you to be alone-" You put her hand out and giggled "Okay yeah you can walk me home" He smiled and skipped down the steps to join you. "Don’t you get in trouble for leaving the dorms without permission?" you asked looking up at him. "Ah sometimes but I get my way out of it"

"So what happened earlier? You disappeared when the  fire happened." you asked him, finally. "Oh I had....gotten..scared" he said, looking up. "Oh..okay. That's normal I guess" "Well this is my stop" you said, walking up to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow" he said waving goodbye "See you" you said with a smile, unlocking the door.

[littlest-w01f]

Little Family

Cassian x Luna

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: When Cassian comes to pick Feyre up from her work, he sees a new girl with her, a girl who sits to herself silently and doesn't talk to any other children, his whole world shifts on its axis when the girl's mother walks in to take her home

Cw: None

part one - part two - part three - part four

Luna stood outside the Riverhouse, holding Nova by her hand, her heart beating rapidly at the thought of meeting the Inner Circle of Night Court, the sun had set a few hours ago, leaving a blanket of darkness over them as the stars twinkled over them.

Luna couldn't decide what to wear, whether to be formal or not, not that she had many formal dresses, to begin with. She had dressed Nova in her favourite skirt and top, something her daughter wanted to wear everywhere, a habit that made Luna laugh, seeing Nova grab the same pair whenever they were going out to spend time together, the few hours they got.

For herself, Luna had chosen a rather simple dress, it was black, full-body, with a deep V-neck, the fabric clinging to her soft stomach, and love handles, just slightly tapering at her waist.

Luna took a deep breath, her fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of her dress. Her heart pounded in her chest like a drum, each beat echoing the nervousness coursing through her veins. She looked down at Nova, who seemed oblivious to their current situation, twirling around happily in her favourite skirt and top. The sight brought a small smile to Luna's lips, helping to calm some of her nerves.

As they approached the entrance of the Riverhouse, Luna could see the lights flickering within, casting an inviting glow onto the cobblestone path leading up to the grand building. A sense of anticipation filled her, mixed with a healthy dose of apprehension. It was her first official night in the Night Court, and she needed to make a good impression.

She turned to look at Nova again, her little face so innocent and carefree.

"Oh, you're here!" Feyre's joyous voice called as she winnowed to Luna and Nova, greeting the mother-daughter duo, "I was waiting for you looking out the window." Feyre reached to hug Luna, which the female returned with a smile of her own.

Luna hugged her friend back, "I was half debating leaving..." She laughed slightly as Nova was rolling on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"It's okay," Feyre whispered reassuringly. "You've got this."

Luna nodded, taking a deep breath to steady her racing heart. As she released Feyre, she looked down to see Nova bouncing with excitement. Seeing her daughter so happy helped to ease some of Luna's anxiety.

"I'm glad you came," Feyre said, smiling warmly at Luna. "We're all very excited to have you here." She glanced down at Nova, who was now hopping from foot to foot. "And especially Nova, of course."

"Thank you," Luna replied, returning Feyre's smile. "I'm excited to meet everyone."

Cassian approached from behind Feyre, "Evenin', sweetheart." He gave Luna a cheeky smile, his hands folded behind his back.

Luna blamed the heat that gathered on her cheeks from his greeting on the mating bond they shared, "Evening Cassian..." She smiled, watching Cassian and Nova blow air in each other's direction by the flutter of their wings in a form of greeting.

Feyre cleared her throat discreetly, shooting Luna a teasing glance. "Shall we get inside?"

"Well, you get inside, I have somthing to gift Nova." Cassian smiled, watching the faeling jumping up in excitement.

"You got me something?" Nova asked, her big brown eyes sparkling.

Luna watched on with a smile as Feyre left to go inside, not before giving her a not-so-subtle wink. Cassian moved his hands forward and had two boxes in his hands.

"This is for you..." He handed a box to Nova, who instantly opened her box and jumped up and down, seeing the pendant.

"Oh Mother, Oh Cauldron I've wanted this one for so long!" Nova rushed to give Cassian a hug, wrapping her arms around his waist, 'thank you's leaving her lips as Cassian hugged her back, avoiding her wings.

Luna couldn't mask her surprise when Cassian handed the second box to her, "And this is for you." And then watching Cassian picking Nova up before throwing her in the air as she squealed and then setting her down.

"You got me a gift too?" Her eyes were wide, hand on Nova's shoulders as she came back to her to stand by her mom, tugging on her skirt to have her put the necklace on her.

"Of course... You thought you saying you wanted nothing would stop me?" Cassian smiled softly, "Open it."

Luna opened the box, a soft gasp leaving her at the necklace, made of gold, a moon charm with little diamonds like stars on the chain of it. "It's... so beautiful." She looked up to Cassian, surprised to see him blushing.

Cassian shrugged, trying to ignore his flushed skin, "Because you know... Your name is Luna... Moon." He was nervous when she didn't respond, "Maybe I shouldn't have... I didn't want to be weird..."

"It's not weird." Luna said instantly, "It's rather sweet."

"I would've bought it at the store you worked at," He rubbed the back of his neck, "But you are a horrible at sales, not letting me buy you something."

"Ass!" Luna playfully hit him, "How much did it cost anyway?"

"I think it's better not to tell..." He smiled, offering Nova a hand to walk with him inside as Nova grabbed Luna's to pull her with them.

Luna sighed, walking with Nova, "So, it's pretty expensive." She guessed.

"Hush now, dinner for now." Cassian playfully rolled his eyes, "Nova, tell your mama it's time for dinner."

Luna raised her brows as Nova began to pull her to the house, "Come, ma, time for dinner."

Luna felt crazy to worry. When she had arrived, everyone fell into a normal atmosphere, as if she was their closest friend. Nova currently sat in the High Lord's lap, who had summoned his wings, making conversation with her daughter, telling her how his father too was High Fae while his mother was Illyrian.

Rhysand had shown his regret, seeing Luna's clipped wings, said wings just stubs on her back, and Luna had soothed his tension, he was trapped Under the Mountain, there was nothing he could've done.

Cassian sat beside Luna, who kept giving her comforting looks throughout the dinner. He had put the necklace her got her around her neck, while in the hallway of the house. The entire Inner Circle wasn't around, which also took part in calming her nerves, besides the High Lady and Lord, there was only Cassian, Azriel and Mor present.

Luna allowed herself to relax a bit more as the evening wore on. The food was delicious, and the company was delightful. Even though she was still nervous, she found herself laughing and engaging in conversation more easily than she expected, having everyone at the table interested in what she had to say, Mor especially, who kept complimenting Luna's dress every chance she got.

Every now and then, she would catch Cassian's eye, and he would give her a reassuring nod or a warm smile. His presence was comforting, and she appreciated his support.

After dinner, when they moved to the sitting room for drinks and dessert, Luna found herself drawn to Feyre and Mor. They were quiet but attentive listeners, and Luna enjoyed sharing stories about Nova and her, who was engrossed in conversation with Cassian and Rhysand, while Azriel watched her, his eyes on her wings.

"Mama! Rhys says he can teach me to fly!" Nova rushed to her mother, and Luna looked at the Illyrians, her eyes soft, she had been unable to teach Nova to fly higher than her own hight, since her wings were clipped and limited her ability to catch her if she fell.

Luna's heart swelled with pride at her daughter's confidence and eagerness. However, she couldn't help but feel a pang of anxiety at the thought of letting Nova fly with someone else. Despite her worries, she knew it was important for Nova to learn and experience things beyond what she could teach her alone. With a deep breath and a loving smile, Luna leaned down to speak with Nova privately.

"Do you really want to learn to fly?" When Nova nodded eagerly Luna turned to Rhysand, "You wouldn't mind teaching her?" He asked curiously.

"Nonsens, darling," Rhysand chuckled, his tone reassuring, "I'd love to teach her."

Feyre looped her arm through Luna's, "And you should feel better Azriel didn't offer," She gave the Shadowsinger a glare but there was a playfulness in it, "He pushed me off a mountain side."

"What!" There was nothing but concern in her beings as she looked at Azriel, "Don't do that to my daughter..."

Cassian cut Luna off, joining in the conversation, "Relax, sweets, he won't, I'll be there too, alright. I'm sure Nova wants me there."

Luna froze a little as Cassian wrapped as arm around her, drinking his wine, she found herself leaning into his touch before she pushed the thought away, instead watching Nova and Cassian interact.

She wondered if he had told anyone about their mating bond but the way everyone around her was so nonchalant made her think he hadn't.

"Look Nove! You're already flying!" Cassian called as he threw her in the air the she giggled the way down, her wings fluttering and Luna's heart filled with warmth, knowing Cassian truly liked Nova, and not just for the sake of her being his mate's child

{General Taglist: @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Little Family Taglist: @littlelunatica @journalofthedamned}

[angelbymadonna]

here's all the second iteration of my mane 6 gorls, except Twi who I didn't change at all. Also I've started drawing w/out bases again bc I am back in the habit now, the only downside is that whenever I start drawing humanoids again I will be very out of practice XD the Rarity and Rainbow Dash are the ones with no base, I sketched them in pencil b4 transferring the design to my phone to color. those each have their own post on this page, while the rest are only on this post, but their first iteration posts are still up. They look pretty similar to the finals, but I made a few changes so if you click for quality you will see that these drawings are much more polished.

IDs for each one below the cut!

6 images, each of which are of a different cartoon pony character I drew.

Applejack is posed as standing on her back legs with her forelegs held closer to herself, facing partially turned away from the viewer. she has an orange coat with off-white spots, including a stripe down her nose bridge, freckles, "mittens" on her forehead, and a spot around her cutie mark, which is three red apples. She is wearing a red banana around her neck and a brown cowgirl-style hat. She has blonde curly hair including her short mane and long tail in a braid. she has green eyes with an apple shaped catchlight, and is wearing three earrings on her visible ear.

Rarity is a unicorn, and is standing normally, but with one hoof up as if gesturing to herself, and her head turned to the side. has a more slender body type, with legs that get wider towards the hooves that end in gold horseshoes. she has a black coat, and white hair. her mane is tied into a bun with big curly bangs, and her tail is secured in a gold band. she has blue eyes with white lashes, and a pair of cat-eye glasses whose red frames are decorated by a gold and blue detail, secured by a loose gold and blue beaded chain. her cutie mark is of three blue, rhombus-shaped diamonds strung onto a red thread with gold beads. The two earrings in her visible ear are also blue and gold.

Pinkie Pie appears to be running or skipping across the page, but looking towards the viewer. she has a light pink coat with a very pastel pink, very poofy mane and tail. her mane is secured into space buns that resemble a buttercream rosette, while her tail is decorated halfway down by a blue scrunchie. Her cutie mark is a blue foil balloon, and it's yellow string continues around her leg. she has a white heart-shaped patch on her chest, and is wearing a yellow and blue rock candy necklace. her visible ear has two blue earrings and one yellow.

Fluttershy head is downturned and she's looking upwards shyly, her wings only partially unfolded. She has a thicker and more rounded body type, with long ears. She has a yellow coat and long, shaggy green hair with a tail that drags along the ground and back hooves covered in mud. her cutie mark has two pink butterflies and one brown pawprint. her necklace pendant is also a pink butterfly, with a green chain that matches her two green bracelets. She has bat-like wings, but also pink and green feathers around the outskirts of them.

Twilight is a unicorn, she appears to be walking across the screen, looking at something above her rather than the viewer or even where she is going. She has an almost cat-like body type, with legs that taper inwards towards small hooves and visible amounts of fluff around her legs and face. She has a light purple coat, which is sparkly in the area near her cutie mark of an elongated six-pointed magenta star-shaped gem. She has navy blue hair and a navy gradient at the ends of her limbs, ears and horn. her mane and tail have straight texture but are quite poofy, and taper inwards at the ends, ending in a curl. Twilight has facial markings which resemble bat-wing eyeliner and a sparkly black stripe from her eye to her chin. her semicircle glasses have thin hold frames with an equally understated frame, but are counterweighted by a gem that matches her cutie mark.

Rainbow Dash is a pegasus who is floating in the center of the picture, in a casual sprawling pose with one front hoof confidently raised up. She has a light blue coat and her tail and bangs are streaked with rainbow colors. her tail is in a half-bun while her mane is cut into a floofy, spiky version of a modern mullet, with the back part dyed stormy gray. Her cutie mark has a cloud with a rainbow lightning bolt. her visible ear features one earring for each of the six colors of the rainbow.

[wytchsbrew]

The bar looked crowded beyond belief when Wolfwood stepped through it's fancy, wooden doors, carved with the elegant depiction of stars and five moons. The sounds hit him first, the tenor of glasses clinking and laughter, and a lively jazz band picking up pace in the back of the building along a stage draped with bright red, thick fabric.

Wolfwood spread his gaze across the expansive thrush of fancily dressed bodies. Suits and bright colored dresses, wine glasses and tablecloths. Beautiful pendant lights hung low from the ceilings in stained glass colors of yellow and red and green, and candle holders sat flickering with scented tapers in the center of every table cloth.

This place...

Was far fancier than what Wolfwood was used to.

"Guess that's what we get for coming to a rich town," he mumbled to himself, and straightened his jacket, a little self consciously. He only had his one outfit, which was not nearly as nice as everyone else's as they pushed passed him, holding filled glasses in their hands.

As he peered around, though, his gaze fell to the long bar against the right most wall. A shining wooden thing lined with leather bound stools, and the entire wall behind the bar lay lined with lights and candles and sparkling glass alcohol bottles of various and many brands and flavors.

The female bar tenders moving around behind it wore perfect suits, with pink bow ties, and pretty smiles on their faces, as they served a long line of customers -

One of which immediately caught his eye.

The shape stood out to him like a glowing ray of sunshine casting down on the darkened bar, drawing his eye and catching his attention until he saw nothing else but that singular person, sitting at the bar with a wine glass between their fingers.

Though from his position at the far end of the bar, he could only see their back, but what a back it was, and he needed a closer look. Slowly, his feet began carrying him forward, gaze never leaving the hot babe at the bar - he pushed past other patrons, shouldering between waiters, moving men and women alike out of the way.

Because he was a man on a mission.

A mission to pick up the hottest person at the bar.

As he sidled up to the stool with confidence abound, and the person in the stool tilted their head upward at the sudden movement, the details of this divine creature hit all of his senses at once with a shotgun blast of beauty.

The mere sight of him clawed directly along the length of his hard cock, leaving bloodied trails in its wake because, wow, alright, he was far more gorgeous than he expected when he first caught sight of the red dress from several paces away.

He was far more beautiful than any person Wolfwood thought he'd seen in his entire life.

His golden hair was slicked back, and had various and many golden hair clips placed in haphazard spots that seemed meaningless, but felt high fashion and purposeful, as though someone spent a good amount of time placing them in spots that seemed effortless. His bright blue eyes were framed with a dark, black liner, forming a wing that ended in a pinpoint; his lids were glittering with makeup, his lips shined with gloss of some kind.

The glitter on his lids trailed downward, sparkling along his high cheekbones, the bow of his lip.

His ear dangled with a gold cross earring.

His dress, though, looked fuckin' breathtaking. The back is completely constructed of thing straps, zigzagging along his scarred skin and tied tightly right at the center, cinching the dress against his slim waist. The dress itself is a bright red, brighter than anything else in the room, and full of glittering sequins, with an extremely high slit.

So high, as he lifted his leg and crossed one thigh over the other, the movement exposed his entire milky leg and muscular thigh to Wolfwood's predatory gaze.

The front of the dress clung tight and low-cut to his muscular chest, and the thin straps holding the entire thing up hid not a single inch of his biceps and wide shoulders.

Holy fuck, he was about to die.

He was going to die.

"Hello?" The beautiful man asked, tilting his head sideways as he lifted his wine glass to his glossed, glittering lips. "Can I help you, or are you just here to stare?"

Wolfwood's mouth went dry, and he slowly lowered himself into the empty stool beside this siren. His heart was thundering so loudly, he was sure the entire bar could hear it.

Wolfwood laughed a tight sound, feeling as though his entire body was no longer working the way it should - all his muscles felt tight and sharp and awkward as he tried to sit naturally beside the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.

He was sure it didn't work. He was sure he looked like an absolute idiot.

He was also sure he needed to get this babe in the dress to somehow agree to fuck him.

"Yeah, I am here to stare, actually," Wolfwood finally gathered the strength to whisper, lowering his voice around the bartenders will moving around to their right. "You're one hell of a thing to stare at, gotta say."

The beauty smiled, taking a sip from his glass. He wasn't throwing the liquid in Wolfwood's face, or getting up to run away, so, he'd take that as a little win!

"You are the most beautiful person in this entire bar," Wolfwood continued, "and I'm dying to know your name."

"Vash," the man said easily, lazily. The glitter on his cheeks glinted in the low light of the candles and pendant lighting, and Wolfwood realized he was wearing strappy heels.

God.

Oh, God.

"Well, Vash," Wolfwood's tongue felt too big for his mouth, and how stupid was that? He'd flirted plenty of times already, why was he striking out this bad? It wasn't like he'd never fucked before. "I'd love to buy you a drink, and maybe... get to know you a little better?"

Wolfwood's hand carefully fell to the warm, smooth thigh awaiting him, fingertips curling along the skin.

Suddenly, the blue eyes flashed something vicious and dangerous, and this Vash leaned forward into Wolfwood's personal space.

"Do you take me someone easy?" Vash snapped in a low, growling voice, full of vitriol and venom. "Do you think you can buy me a drink and I'll just let you eat my pussy?"

"N - no-" Wolfwood hissed, backing away. "No, I don't -"

Vash closed the distance between them, lips pulling back from his sharp canines in the semblance of a silent growl. He ducked his face close to Wolfwood, lips brushing the shell of his ear.

"Well, you're right, handsome," he whispered, and his breath smelled like candy.

Movement caught Wolfwood's eye, bringing his gaze to the lap of the Vash's dress as he shifted in the stool. Fingers brushed along the hem of the long slit.

"I'm very easy."

The slit lifted, pushed to the side along his gorgeous thighs, which spread in the same second.

Revealing his smooth, blue petal lined pussy. No underwear, nothing, just the sweet, sweet sight of that pink and blue cunt peeking through his thighs, already glistening with moisture that leaked visibly from the petals.

Suddenly, there was no blood anywhere in Wolfwood's body, except his dick.

Just as fast as it appeared, it was gone, Vash pulling the glittering fabric back over his thighs, but, then, before Wolfwood had time to catch his breath, Vash's fingers were closing around his wrist and pulling his hand forward. He shifted his body toward the bar, and slipped Wolfwood's hand beneath the slit of his dress.

His fingers bumped along the inner thigh, warm and smooth, then along one wet petal, before his fingertips slipped wetly along the soaking cunt hidden beneath the dress.

"Why don't you see just how easy I am?" Vash hummed demurely, like he wasn't demonstrating the hottest, most sexual act Wolfwood had ever experienced in his entire life. "See how wet I am."

With his hand shaking hard, he peeked around at the bartenders and the fellow patrons wandering around, drinking, conversing. None of them were paying them any mind, none of them knew what was happening at all - so, he slipped two fingers past the petals and into the soaking wet entrance. It felt slick and sticky, and a plume of sweet smell hit him directly in the face.

Vash was right.

He was soaking wet.

Wolfwood had no physical idea what to do with himself in public like this, faced with the hottest possible situation anyone had ever handed to him, right there on a silver platter, so he felt a little dazed and drunk on the atmosphere, of the feeling of Vash's cunt, and he wanted to burst into flames, and everything felt like way too much right there out in the open.

He quickly pulled his fingers out of Vash, ignoring the small whine of disappointment from Vash, and watched as his hand revealed itself from the slit of the dress.

His fingers lay covered in slick, sticky threads still spreading between them as he stretched them apart. He watched the glinting way Vash's sweetness caught the light.

Something took him over. The spirit of this whole Cat and Mouse game, perhaps.

Parting his lips, he took his wet digits into his mouth and tasted. The slick was sweet and floral, the sweetest thing imaginable, it hit his tongue with all cylinders firing and covered him like a blanket of lust, like a drug, like an aphrodisiac.

"God," he had to stifle his own moan, deep in his throat. "You taste so fuckin' good."

Vash blinked at him, silent, his brow furrowed.

He watched the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

"Bathroom," Vash said. "Back of the bar. Now."

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

They slammed through the one private bathroom door at the back of the bar like a natural disaster claiming this entire side of Gunsmoke. Wolfwood slammed it shut and locked it tight behind them, and Vash's hands never left him.

They cupped his face and kissed him hard, a damp, salty slide and sweep of that familiar, sweet tasting mouth, mingling with the bitterness of the wine he'd been drinking. Wolfwood went still for a beat before his body took over and he let his hands fall to the smooth waist of Vash's dress.

He couldn't fucking believe it. No ulterior motive, no questions, no hesitance, but... he wanted him. This beautiful, sweet, perfect being wanted him, wanted to do things like this with him. His actions nearly brought Wolfwood to his knees when he thought of it.

But, it was true.

Just the two of them, their silhouettes in the bruised, dim light of the bathroom, boasting only one golden pendant lighting above their heads.

When Vash teased his tongue between Wolfwood's lips, spreading them and moving his tongue around his mouth as though to taste him in turn, Wolfwood's embrace on his hips tightened, pulling him close. And when Vash dove deeper into his mouth, Wolfwood felt his restraints snap.

Wolfwood took his slim body in hand and spun him around and pushed him face down onto the countertop boasting the porcelain sink. He watched Vash's hand fumble around on the counter, his strappy heels on the floor, ass presented forward to him, and Wolfwood dropped to his knees and quickly shoved the thin fabric of the dress up, gathering it at Vash's waist.

A moan filled the bathroom as Wolfwood dove in with frantic lips and began smearing messy, sloppy kisses up the backs of Vash's exposed thighs, until he reached the sloping curve of his full, delicious ass.

Wolfwood sunk his fingers into the cheeks and spread them wide, revealing his perfect, pink hole, along with his petaled pussy peeking out from between his thighs, now even wetter than before. His ass and legs, alike, were positively drenched in his slick.

Making this about the best damn meal Wolfwood was ever about to eat.

He laved a white hot stripe between the cheeks, and the volume of Vash's responsive cry nearly shocked him into stopping. They were in public, after all, what if someone heard them over the loud jazz band? What if they were kicked out?

...

.......

Oh, that struck Wolfwood right in the center of his cock, and he moaned around his own tongue. He hoped someone could hear them. He hoped everyone in the whole God damn bar knew he was about to fuck this beautiful man and paint his insides with his cum, and that pussy belonged to him and only him.

He wanted everyone to know, and envy him. Curse him. Despise him.

Because they'd never get a taste of Vash.

Wolfwood spread his tongue flat as he went in for a better taste. Vash bucked forward into the countertop, dropping his head forward and out of Wolfwood's sight, shoulders taught and muscles straining against his tight dress.

He dove his tongue right into his tight hole with a muffled moan of his own, and Vash released a high, echoing keen and gasped as he tilted his hips backwards, canting them just right to chase more of Wolfwood's mouth.

"Oh, fuck, Nick-"

Vash was already gasping his name - a name Wolfwood had not told him, he realized with a private little laugh to himself - as he tenderly plunged his tongue passed that initial tightness, and into a place he'd never explored before. He swirled in and out, catching the edge of his hole, eating him thoroughly in a way that had Vash's breath echoing loud and ragged in the silent, still bathroom.

"Nicholas!" Vash choked out, his cry calling out to him. He rocked back on Wolfwood's thrusting tongue, fucking himself right onto his mouth with a fervor that made fire burn through Wolfwood's fingertips. "Please, please, Nick, I need you."

Wolfwood pulled back, pausing for one split moment to press kisses and nibbles along that rounded mound of ass. He rose up, and slapped Vash on the ass, watching the reddened handprint on his pale skin. "On the countertop."

Vash did not need to be told twice. He stumbled around and lifted himself onto the edge of the counter, spreading his thick thighs immediately as the glittering fabric fell away.

Their gazes met. A clash of lightning and fire, and Wolfwood felt himself grinning like a feral fucking animal looking at a fresh kill.

The following feeding frenzy was a tangle of limbs, slick with sweat and spit, pussy dripping wetly and hard cock yanking from fabric. Wolfwood didn't bother pulling down his pants, just slipped his erection from it's prison. Mouths found each other, lips smearing fast, hands scrambling for purchase on slick fabric.

When Wolfwood finally lined the pulsing head of his thick cock up with Vash's wet entrance, his petals fluttering against the damn crown, and he began slowly pushing himself in, Vash clenched his jaw, wrapped his legs around Wolfwood's waist, and fucked himself forward along the countertop.

Vash took him all in in one single swoop.

"Holy fuck," Wolfwood hissed in through gritted teeth, his hands reaching up to wrap around Vash's waist with bruising strength. He found his gaze raking over Vash's body, taking him in with a hunger unlike anything else in the world - until he lifted his eyes and their gazes met again.

They began to move in tandem together, then. At first, it was slow, careful, just the light slap of Wolfwood's thick cock into his pussy, and it felt so, so good, Wolfwood found his eyes falling shut with a light, singsong moan.

Vash whimpered, and Wolfwood opened his eyes and found himself staring forward at Vash, who was watching between them, watching Wolfwood's cock drive into his fluttering petals time and time again, his glossed bottom lip caught between his teeth.

"Ay, you like what you see?" Wolfwood asked, his voice sounding rough and rasping and deep, like the tail end of a crack of thunder. Self indulgent pleasure played across Vash's fire intense expression. "Your petals sure as Hell do."

Vash's head shot upward, a darkness in his blue gaze flashing.

"Yes," he growled, with that same vicious little snarl and vitriol as before, but Wolfwood knew it was all play, all bark, no bite. "Yes, fuck, I love everything about you."

Their pace and rhythm quickened in time with their shallow gasps of breath and cacophony of moans. He fucked into Vash in devout purposefulness, ruinous and devastating in the way he held Vash's slim hips still and impaled him through with increasing insanity. They never looked away from each other, never said another word.

Wolfwood felt as though his heart was raw and ripped in half at the sound of Vash's cries, loud and gorgeous, heart stopping, mingling with his answering ones, ripped with blood from his throat. Deep and husky, grunting and moaning.

Really, it was no surprise that he came so fast, considering how fast he was fucking him rugged, but Wolfwood felt molten high erupting through him. His name fell from his lips as he dropped himself atop Vash's body and buried his face in the crook of his perfume scented neck, hips stuttering and plunging in deep.

Just like he'd been thinking of all night, he painted Vash's entire womb with his seed. And Vash fumbled his arms around Wolfwood's neck as he crumbled, crying out and cumming in time with him, body trembling and shaking, mirror vibrating, clashing, against the wall against the onslaught of Vash's shoulder smacking into it in his vicious orgasm.

They stayed like that atop the counter, panting and gasping, catching their breaths with fading desperation.

It wasn't until Vash spoke that the silence was broken in the bathroom, that sound returned to Wolfwood's ears all at once by way of the pounding jazz music just outside.

"And you told me roleplay wouldn't be fun," Vash giggled, a sweet little sound.

Wolfwood rolled his eyes and carefully removed himself from Vash's body, settling backwards enough to start redressing himself. "Yeah, yeah, but did you really have to be so fucking hot?"

"Yes." Vash grinned, and lowered himself onto his heels on the floor once more. His sloppy slick thighs and pussy made a wet noise as he moved. "Was it the easy comment at the bar? I knew that would drive you insane."

"Yeah, I'll be thinking about that for weeks." Oh, and he would. He'd never get over the sound of his boyfriend and lover whispering those words in his ear - he'd be using that as masturbation material for a long, long time.

"Good." Vash headed for the bathroom door, sauntering his hips with exaggerated movements. "Wanna go back to the hotel now? I hate this jazz music."

"Sure." Wolfwood slapped his hand against Vash's ass, watching it jiggle against the onslaught as Vash pulled open the bathroom door. He brushed his lips against Vash's ear, mirroring exactly his actions back at the bar.

"Better make sure you keep that slit closed as you walk, though. Don't want anybody seein' my cum drip down your thigh."

[ruknowhere]

“It comes so soon, the moment when there is nothing left to wait for.”

“If a little dreaming is dangerous, the cure for it is not to dream less, but to dream more, to dream all the time.”

― Marcel Proust

‘But once in a while the odd thing happens, Once in a while the dream comes true, And the whole pattern of life is altered, Once in a while the moon turns blue.’

W.A. Auden

All I Ever Wanted

When I thought it was right to name my desires,

what I wanted of life, they seemed to turn

like bleating sheep, not to me, who could have been

a caring, if unskilled, shepherd, but to the boxed-in hills

beyond which the blue mountains sloped down

with poppies orange as crayfish all the way to the Pacific seas

in which the hulls of whales steered them

in search of a mate for whom they bellowed

in a new, highly particular song

we might call the most ardent articulation of love,

the pin at the tip of evolution,

modestly shining.

In the middle of my life

it was right to say my desires

but they went away. I couldn’t even make them out,

not even as dots

now in the distance.

Yet I see the small lights

of winter campfires in the hills—

teenagers in love often go there

for their first nights—and each yellow-white glow

tells me what I can know and admit to knowing,

that all I ever wanted

was to sit by a fire with someone

who wanted me in measure the same to my wanting.

To want to make a fire with someone,

with you,

was all.

~ Katie Ford

A Sweetening All Around Me As It Falls

.

Even generous August,

only a child’s scribblings

on thick black paper, in smudgeable chalk —

Even the ripening tomatoes, even the roses,

blowsy, loosening the fragrance of black tea.

A winter light held this morning’s apples

as they fell, sweet, streaked by one touch

of the careless brush, appling to earth

The seeds so deep inside that they carry that cold.

Is this why some chose solitude, to rise

that small bit further, unencumbered by love of earth,

as the branches, now lighter, kit a little higher

oin gold air? But apples love earth and falling,

lost themselvcs in it as much as they can at first touch

and then, with time and rain, at last comepletely;

to be that bone-like One, that shines unleafed in winter rain,

all black and glazed with not the pendant gold of

necklaced summer but the ice color mirroring starlight

when the earth is empty and dark and knows nothing of apples.

Seed black of the paper, seed black of the waiting heart —

December’s shine, austere and fragile, carves the visible tree.

But today, cut deep in last plums, in yellow pears,

in secnd flush of roses, in the warmth of an hour, now late,

as drunk on heat as the girl who long ago vanished into green trees,

fold that loneliness, one moment, two, love, back into your arms

– Jane Hirschfield

Once the realization is accepted that even between the closest

human beings infinite distances continue,

a piercing intimacy side by side can grow,

if they succeed in loving the distance between them

which makes it possible for each to see the other

whole against the sky.

-Rainer Maria Rilke

An hour is not a house

An hour is not a house,

a life is not a house,

you do not go through them as if

they were doors to another.

Yet an hour can have shape and proportion,

four walls, a ceiling.

An hour can be dropped like a glass.

Some want quiet as others want bread.

Some want sleep.

My eyes went

to the window, as a cat or dog left alone does.

-JANE HIRSHFIELD

The Coming Of Light

Even this late it happens:

the coming of love, the coming of light.

You wake and the candles are lit as if by themselves,

stars gather, dreams pour into your pillows,

sending up warm bouquets of air.

Even this late the bones of the body shine

and tomorrow's dust flares into breath.

- Mark Strand

Pleasures

I like to find

what’s not found

at once, but lies

within something of another nature,

in repose, distinct.

Gull feathers of glass, hidden

in white pulp: the bones of squid

which I pull out and lay

blade by blade on the draining board—

tapered as if for swiftness, to pierce

the heart, but fragile, substance

belying design. Or a fruit, mamey,

cased in rough brown peel, the flesh

rose-amber, and the seed:

the seed a stone of wood, carved and

polished, walnut-colored, formed

like a brazilnut, but large,

large enough to fill

the hungry palm of a hand.

I like the juicy stem of grass that grows

within the coarser leaf folded round,

and the butteryellow glow

in the narrow flute from which the morning-glory

opens blue and cool on a hot morning.

– Denise Levertov

Has my heart gone to sleep?

Have the beehives of my dreams

stopped working, the waterwheel

of the mind run dry,

scoops turning empty,

only shadow inside?

No, my heart is not asleep.

It is awake, wide awake.

Not asleep, not dreaming—

its eyes are opened wide

watching distant signals, listening

on the rim of vast silence.

– Antonio Machado

I want to write you

a love poem as headlong

as our creek

after thaw

when we stand

on its dangerous

banks and watch it carry

with it every twig

every dry leaf and branch

in its path

every scruple

when we see it

so swollen

with runoff

that even as we watch

we must grab

each other

and step back

we must grab each

other or get our

shoes soaked

we must

grab each other

– Linda Pastan

Learn from our successes.

..roomE

[sm0lltownotaku]

Fashion in Tokyo Revengers pt.3

-Fashion Fridays-

The final episodes of Season 1 take place during Fall and Wintertime, so we’re feasting our eyes with more sweaters, jackets and long shirts. I’m a big believer that cold weather brings out the best in our fashion sense.

We see Chifuyu with an awesome light tan sweater under his school jacket. Look at the hoodie and the cuffs! Those thick sleeves and huge hoodie makes this one of my favorite pieces, it just looks super cozy.

This shot allows us to appreciate Chifuyu’s sweater a bit more. It reaches just above his hips, and the heam is also thick. He doesn’t wear his school pants baggy, like Takemitchy, his are fitted to the waist and tapered to the ankles.

Takemitchy is in his school uniform, which fits a bit baggy to my liking. His jacket unbuttoned over a white shirt.

Draken is wearing a classic trucker denim jacket in white over a black shirt and light grey pants. He’s consistent with his color combinations.

Mikey is also a fan of grey and black combinations, this time wearing a quarter sleeve hoodie over a long sleeved black shirt. His grey shorts cover black leggings underneath.

Episode 17 - No way and Episode 18 - Open fire

In this scene we have a better look at Draken’s outfit, standing inside a tunnel with Kazutora. We see his grey pants tucked into black combat boots. I’m going to be honest, I’m getting serious Dragon Ball Z vibes with the way he tucks his boots. Not a big fan.

Kazutora on the other hand, wearing the amazing Valhalla jacket, is sporting black joggers that are aggressively tapered around his ankles and some white low sneakers that resemble the super famous Stan Smith design. That combination actually looks pretty cool and is a classic streetwear fit.

A full body shot of Draken in all his Dragon Ball Z glory.

Check out the jacket on Mitsuya! The hood is awesome with that raised collar and drawstrings. That forest green really matches with the bright white accents in the zipper and drawstrings. The detail of the pocket on the right arm is also pretty cool. He looks warm and comfy, maybe a little bit thoughtful.

The day of the fight we see lots of new boys with different styles, it’s super interesting! I really liked this guy’s yellow shirt with the half sleeves and low shoulder seams, he pairs it well witht the black long sleeved undershirt.

The accessories! This guy with the golden horn rimmed glasses and golden earring has great taste in color combination. His silver pendant pairs well with the black shirt and tan jacket.

Then we have the Haitani brothers in comfy active wear: Rindo with the all black outfit, zip-up jacket up to his chin and those golden round eyeglasses! Ran wearing a nice oversized light grey sweatshirt and slim-fit black jeans. It’s all about the silhouette with Ran.

Episode 23 - End of war

This penultimate episode is very emotional, and we see Chifuyu in all black simple outfit, while Mikey wears a long plaid shirt in dark grey with black and white accents, black slim-fit jeans and white sneakers. I think this is oufit is the dressed up version of Mikey, he’s not wearing lounge wear or oversized clothing, and that gives a very special meaning to the scene. He took the time to look his best.

Meanwhile we have Draken and Takemitchy spending some time together, and Draken takes Takemitchy to his room where he has a rack with his haori shirts! You know he takes great care of them.

Draken is wearing a long sleeve haori shirt in black with white accents, which seems to be the long sleeved version of one of his short sleeved shirts. It’s awesome, and we also find this particular haori shirt has a white interior lining. He wears a black hoodie underneath and honestly it looks pretty badass.

Takemitchy seems to have taken a page out of his friends’ lookbook because he’s made an effort. Looking preppy in a red and white letterman jacket, he wears a white t-shirt and light chinos.

Classic Yamagishi with the streetwear. He’s wearing a white hoodie under a short denim trucker jacket, black joggers tapered to the ankle and some white low sneakers. Very similar silhoutte to Kazutora’s earlier outfit.

Unpopular opinion here, but I actually thought Peh’s shirt was cool, he’s got this mafioso thing going on since the early episodes. You have to hand it to him, he’s consistent. I would have a chosen a longer jacket, though, that short cut is not doing him any favours and it also looks a bit tight around the shoulders and arms.

We finish Season 1 with Mitsuya in his sewing club outfit. I love this guy’s style! He’s so versatile, he changes up silhouttes, color combinations and fit, every single episode. We see him in all his knitwear glory with a super cozy light tan sweater, oversized and unbuttoned. The sleeves are a bit long, trailing past his wrists, but I’m sure it’s part of the look. A white shirt underneath, leaving the last two buttons undone, and baggy black pants. He is the embodiment of comfy right now.

I’m very excited to see new outfits and colors next season!

So what did you think about these outfits?

Let me know!

[honeymoonjin]

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 taehyung x reader ft yoongi || 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 8.5k || 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆 smut

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 riddled with insomnia, you’d just about do anything to get a good night’s rest. enter sandman. 

𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 masturbation (m), voyeurism, exhibitionism, public sex, mile high club, oral (m receiving), choking, deepthroating, cockwarming but in her throat, throat bulge, way more male oral than i’ve ever written oop, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, dirty talk, unprotected sex, riding, tentacles, yes you did read that correctly user honeymoonjin is expanding her wares, buckets of cum, like really a ridiculous amount of it, is it somnophilia if they’re fucking in her dreams?, cum eating, rough nipple play, hair pulling, belly bulge, creampie

many thanks to @jamaisjoons for the gorgeous banner, she really outsold xx many thanks as well to @honey-boyyoongi​ for beta reading and helping a lot on plot. i wouldn’t have finished this fic without her xx this fic is a part of the monster smash project at ksmutclub : )

--

It’s a shit fair. 

You make sure to tell Yoongi this several times throughout the afternoon, more emphatically as the hours drag on, but he’s too focussed on giving heart-eyes to the young man tending the water pistol stall. The man, who has held an unbelievably cheery grin all night, at some point got caught in the stream of a kid with poor aim, and though it’s warm his shirt still hasn’t dried, leaving a rather promiscuous set of dark spots on his chest behind the translucent cotton. You think Yoongi might be drooling. 

You’ve just about given up wandering around aimlessly waiting for your friend to get the courage to actually approach the guy, when a stall catches your attention. Unsurprising, considering how gaudy and kitschy it is. Heavy embroidered tapestries form a makeshift curtain across the entrance to the booth, and above rests a sign with neon striplighting that reads Enter Sandman. You bite your lip, ignoring Yoongi’s impatient tug on your arm. You don’t remember seeing it on any of your other turns around the small fairground, though you can’t imagine how you could’ve possibly missed it. 

Without breaking your gaze, you address Yoongi. “I’m gonna check out some stalls.”

“Come on, you’re gonna ditch me in my time of need?” Yoongi’s voice is playfully lilting, the kind that lets you know it’s okay to leave while simultaneously promising that he’ll complain about your abandoning him later, probably at four in the morning when neither of you can get to sleep. 

“Yup,” you mumble blankly, and shake off his grip, making your way across the slightly uneven dirt and trampled grass to reach the stall. You feel drawn, strangely, to the narrow dark triangle of shadow between the folds of the curtain. It’s only once you get nearer that you make out the patterns of the delicate stitching: swirls of gold thread weave around figures, horizontal or curled up, all in dull shades of brown and beige. Entranced, you reach out your fingers to follow the swirls of gold. The tapestry, instead of ending in edges over the entrance, is folded so that the pictures trail around the edge. Without thinking to politely announce your presence, you simply slip inside, feeling the late summer humidity lead to a shady coolness.

It’s dark inside, and silent. Nothing illuminates the small room except for a single candle on a table, a black tall taper, drops of wax running cleanly down the sides to stain the golden tablecloth. It’s luckily enough to just make out the reflective glint of the gold thread, and you follow the tapestry slowly as it runs all the way along the walls inside. Part of you feels this is futile, and you shouldn’t be poking around in an empty stall when the owner was out, but still you walk deeper into the booth, the texture of embroidery teasing the tips of your fingers. 

At one point, closer to the back of the room, your shadow begins to block the candlelight, and you squint, barely making out the trail of golden swirls. An odd protrusion in the wall causes you to step back, losing the trail for a moment but picking it up, a bright gold patch, perfectly circular and shining like-

“What are you doing in my tent?”

You gasp and jump back, bumping your lower back on a wooden chair tucked into the table. A hand shoots out, latches tightly onto your wrist. You freeze, following the arm up a sleeve, and to a chest, black silk with a pendant dangling just below his collarbones, a single gold coin. Your eyes jump up, apology on your tongue, but you can’t force your mouth to move when you’re greeted with two gleaming eyes, trained solely on you. 

No, not gleaming. Glowing. 

You swallow hard as he blinks slowly, eyebrows narrowed and partially blocking what looks like swirling irises of molten gold, a depth that draws you in. “I- sorry,” you croak finally, feeling his grip around your wrist loosen, the delicate bones aching. “It did say ‘enter’.”

You can’t be sure in the dim lighting, but a slight flash of white makes you think he’s smirking at you. “My sign says ‘Enter Sandman’. Are you a sandman?”

You blink slowly. “No.” 

“Hm, I didn’t think so. I am the sandman. And you are the trespasser.”

Your mind feels hazy, two beats too slow. “Do you want me to… leave, then?”

His hand lets go of yours completely. It leaves you feeling oddly unmoored. “You could leave,” he offers lightly, “but then you’d never get my help.”

You want to turn around, some illogical urge to make sure the exit is still free, that the fair is still in full swing outside. It feels so quiet in here. But you don’t want to turn your back on him. The hairs on the back of your neck are at full attention and your instincts are going haywire like a faulty compass, unsure what to feel. You swallow past the dryness in your throat. “Your help?”

The gilded glow of his eyes - some modern fashion contacts, no doubt - gently illuminate the dark eyelashes that frame them. They narrow at the corners, like he’s grinning at you. “My help,” he echoes. “You look tired, little girl. Can’t get to sleep?”

The blood in your veins runs cold. In the cool shade of the tent, goosebumps break out along your arms. “How did you know that? Are you meant to be a psychic or something?” 

His tongue clicks in irritation. “I’m a sandman. I believe I told you that. I can promise you restful sleep every night. For a price.”

You scoff, the reality of the situation dawning on you. Cool shtick, you allow. The dude certainly had a good way of setting up atmosphere. “Let me guess, $29.99 plus tax? Or buy a whole week for a hundred? Thanks, but no thanks.”

You turn before he manages to reply. In fact, he remains still in the time it takes you to stumble around the table in the dark, making your way to the bright sliver of light streaming in through the folds of the tapestry. Your hand is on the rough fabric before you hear his honeyed voice again. 

“My price isn’t currency,” he states simply.

Your hand remains frozen in the air. Damn you and your constant curiosity. “What is it, then?” you ask, twisting around. Now that your silhouette isn’t blocking the candlelight, you can make out a vague outline. He’s tall, but you already knew that from the height of his eyes. “Your price, I mean.” 

He steps forward, just one foot dusting the exposed ground, but it’s enough to bring him closer to the light, enough for the dancing flame to shine upon his face. 

With the lighting from below, heavy shadows are cast below his brows and his hairline, but you can see the warm bronze tone to his skin, and the fine bone structure below it. He’s still smirking, just the slightest quirk to his lips, and his chin is jutted forward smugly. He’s gorgeous. 

You can’t help but swallow again as his piercing eyes stay fixed upon you, the slight pink of his tongue poking at the corner of his mouth as his grin widens. “Dream of me.” 

--

You feel like you’re floating. You’re in a bathroom, looking in on a shower. Although the glass should be fully fogged up, with the rest of the room humid with steam, you can see through perfectly, to the naked form inside. 

In real life, you would leave immediately, at the very least turn away, but in the hazy logic of your dream, you simply observe. 

His head is against the wall, forehead pressed to the tile as water pelts down his tanned back. One hand props him up; the other is between his legs, fisting at an angry red erection. It drips precum with every jerk of his wrist, disappearing amongst the slightly soapy water that circles the drain. You can’t see his face with how the sodden bronzed locks of his hair cling to it.

Although the showerhead seems to be spraying full power, his pleasure-filled groans are what fill your ears. The way they trail off shakily every time he twists his wrist just below the tip, the gruff curses under his breath. You listen and watch as he falls apart from his own ministrations, the muscles in his buttocks clenching as he begins to thrust into his hand, panting slightly. 

Like hearing from underwater, you slowly becoming aware of a murmur that the man chants, louder and faster each time, as his hand speeds up. Your mind runs slower than treacle, but you do your best to focus. 

“Y/n! Y/n, fuck, yes! God, right there, I’m not gonna last, fuck!”

You mentally recoil, though your body simply continues to watch, honed in on the way his whole body undulates, chasing the pleasure with every fibre of his being. He moans your name, panting onto the slippery tile. He’s close; you can tell by the way his hips shudder. 

With a shout, he spills himself onto the floor of the shower, spurts of it catching and running down the wall, pooling at the bottom before washing away. He jerks himself languidly until the last drop runs down over his knuckles, and then lets out a satisfied exhale, using his toes to wipe away the last of it, before straightening up again, rinsing his face in the stream. 

“Fuck, Y/n,” he says one last time with a relieved sigh, “mm, thank you.”

Finally, he stretches out an arm blindly to reach for the metal nozzle, cutting the flow of water short. He tips his head back, pressing at his scalp to wring out some of the water, and you catch your first real glimpse of his face. A face you recognise very well. As you stare at the man you had met in the tent, the details of the bathroom blur away, fading into wisps of steam. His eyes, glowing gold, are the last two pinpricks of detail before the dream dissolves into nothingness.

You wake up with a jolt, the sheets underneath you sticky with sweat. It was real. You dismiss the thought with a shake of your head the moment it occurs to you. If anything, it was probably just your mind playing on what had happened as a way of processing it. But then again, you had slept the night through for the first time in almost a year. Speaking of...

Sitting up and stretching languidly, you curse upon viewing your alarm clock. You’d slept through your first class. “Beggars can’t be choosers,” you mutter in resignation, frowning when you become aware of a prickling sensation in your eye. 

You rub at it, only to hiss when a sharp stinging sensation attacks the sensitive nerves. Blinking away the tears that spring up, you kick off your blankets, jogging barefoot to the bathroom to inspect it in the mirror. 

Leaning in close enough that your breath creates little foggy patches on the glass, you make out some substance clogging up the inner corner of your right eye. There’s some on the left too, though not as much, and you use a wet wipe to carefully brush it out. 

In confusion, you pull away the wipe and inspect the grit that’s come away. Like something you might find at a luxurious beach (though you haven’t been to one since you were a kid) a clump of golden sand sits on the moistened fabric, finer and more delicate than caster sugar. The colour reminds you of the hair of the man in your dream, of the man you met the day before. What the fuck? With a deep breath, you force yourself to clear out the rest of the sand from your eyes and clear the worry from your head.

--

“What sand tent?”

You stare at Yoongi in something mildly related to disgust as he shovels an ungodly amount of beef wrapped in a lettuce leaf into his mouth, dark dipping sauce gathering at the corners of his mouth. “A sandman tent. You know, the big neon sign? It was right beside the little homemade fudge stall.” 

He chews noisily, brows furrowed in thought. “The one old Jeanie set up? That was right at the end of the row, Y/n, there wasn’t anything past that.” You go to protest, but Yoongi makes a sound of disagreement. “Seriously, Y/n, there wasn’t. I remember because she was complaining to me about the organisers trying to hide her stall since she’s taking all their business. I went there for some of her earl grey fudge but that certainly wasn’t the tea I ended up getting.”

You roll your eyes at his joke, but your heart isn’t in it. “I went in the tent, though. There was a dude there and everything. He said he’d give me a good night’s sleep if I dreamed of him, and I said sure, and for the first time in fucking ages I actually managed to sleep properly.” 

Yoongi’s chopsticks hover over the beef sizzling on the barbecue. “Did you?”

“Did I what?”

“Dream of him,” Yoongi clarifies. 

You think back to the sight of him in the shower, streams of clear water washing away the cream he spilled on the floor, of the way his eyes pierced into you right as you woke up. Your cheeks heat at the lewd imagery. Normally your memory of dreams faded over the day - at least, when you were a kid they did. But every detail seems branded in your mind in full definition. Ducking your head, you reach out for a strip of cooked meat and avoid your friend’s gaze.

“Oh my god, you did! Was he hot?”

“Yoongi!”

“What? If he was, I wanna go track him down and get a dream. Why does all the cool shit happen to you?”

You sigh, though a reluctant smile tugs at your lips. You can never stay mad at him and he knows it. “Shut up and eat your damn lettuce wraps,” you mutter petulantly. 

Over the lunch spent with Yoongi, you find the thought of the mysterious man slip from your mind, instead feeling reenergised from your good rest and cheered up from the good food and company.

--

You dream of him again the next night. Not a bathroom this time; an airplane. At the start, it feels like reality, only slightly more...fluid. The strange quality of a dream where everything is simultaneously crystal clear and blurred. 

He’s beside you, the middle seat as you take the window. Outside, clouds melt into blue sky and in the cabin there are faceless individuals filling the seats.

“You dirty girl,” the sandman whispers, a hand on the inside of your knee. “You’re soaked for me.”

You widen your eyes and look down. The moment you see the dark patch forming in the crotch of your pants, a wave of arousal hits you as if it’s on a delay. “Yeah,” you breathe in awe. “Want you.”

His eyes sparkle behind thick lashes. “Oh, do you really?”

You bite your lip. “Please.” For a moment he looks remarkably casual, commonplace. He tilts his head at you and leans back, drawing your attention to his dress shirt and tie, and perfectly ironed pants, but when you drop his gaze to look over them, you gasp. 

His shirt is unbuttoned all the way, gaping open to reveal his unclothed chest. The tie dangles down his bare skin, guiding your eyes to his crotch, where his pants are lewdly spread open, zipper parted to reveal the waistband of his underwear. A delicate trail of golden hairs dip from below his belly button to underneath the fabric, and without thinking, your hand stretches out towards it, fingering the edge of the waistband. 

Rather than speak, you give him a questioning glance, but what greets you makes you suck in a breath. Just like the first time you met, he’s radiant; godlike. His hair is a silken warm blonde, gentle waves that frame his delicately arched brows. And his eyes. When you meet his gaze, his irises glint and shift, a brilliant gold that swirls around dilated pupils. This is the first time you’ve seen him properly in the light.

He narrows them slightly in amusement, drinking in your reaction. With a barely-there background of the airplane cabin, general shapes and blurs, the man sitting beside you is in startling clarity. Everything seems to revolve around him, a fixation you can’t shake. “Please,” you mumble again unconsciously, hand slipping below the elastic of his underwear. 

He’s hard as a rock, though his face shows no desperation, only mild amusement with the way you lick your lips. As you massage him indulgently, you can’t help but recall the sight of him in the shower. Would his cock be the same in this dream? 

“Watch out,” he warns, before breaking your gaze to face the aisle. Belatedly, you hear a squeaky wheel, a trundle cart being pushed down towards you. As the figure of an air hostess slips into view, you attempt to quickly retract your hand, though it seems your brain and body aren’t on the same track anymore. Even as you mentally strain with the want to take your hand out of his pants, it refuses to cooperate, wrapping your fingers fully around his length, running your thumb over his head. 

He chuckles lowly, head tipped back luxuriously on the head rest, devoid of any shame. The air hostess is talking to the two of you, but your cheeks burn and you can’t bear to look at her. The sandman calmly orders a hot tea, only pausing to groan in relief when your rogue hand slips him out of his pants and into the cool air of the cabin. He’s making conversation with her, discussing landing times and stopovers, and your eyes fill with embarrassed tears as you feel yourself bending down, dipping your head to take him in your mouth. 

Unlike any men you’d been with before, he tastes slightly sweet, a flavour that satisfies your tastebuds. The moment your tongue dips out to swipe up the bead of precum that’s gathered, it’s like your humiliation melts away, and even though you feel yourself regaining control of your hand, you continue to pump the base of his cock, lapping up as much of the moreish taste of him as you can. 

“Now that’s a good girl,” his honeyed voice soothes, a reassuring palm brushing your hair out of your face gently, “just give in to me.”

You moan around the head of his cock and suck him down deeper. As you lower your head more, it seems your perverted dream-logic has taken away your gag reflex, and soon you’re removing your hand, nose pressing against his hip bone. He lets out a low, purring groan, and you grip the flesh of his thigh through his pants in response. You can feel him in your throat as you begin to bob your head, but instead of feeling like you’re being suffocated, you just feel deliciously full. A wave of wet heat rushes between your legs as you picture how it would feel to be that full somewhere else. 

“Yes,” he sighs, “god, it’s been so fucking long, don’t you dare stop.” You pull off him with a pop quickly to look up, expecting the air hostess to have moved on by now, your dream sequence having gone down a different path, but she stands there, perfectly put-together and professional as she stares down at you. Behind her, you notice with a jolt that everyone in their seats have turned to look at you; countless generic faces that blend into nothing the moment you look away. 

“They’re all watching,” you comment with a raw throat, though arousal at the thought of it slides through you like a hot knife, feeling your pants cling to you, impossibly soaked. 

His smile is radiant and the gold in his eyes darkens to burnished bronze. With a hand on the back of your neck, he guides you back down. “Then give them a show.” He moans low in his throat when you take him in your mouth again, tongueing at the veins that run along the underside. His fingers slip around the other side of your neck, pushing down on your voicebox. You can feel the way his constriction traps his cock in your throat. You can’t breathe, but it is no longer necessary, your heart thrumming gently in your chest even without oxygen to pump it. 

He presses down more firmly, an iron grip around your throat that closes your throat around his length. “I wonder…” he muses. With a dark laugh that sounds almost inhuman, the man pulls slowly, lifting you off him until only the tip sits on the back of your palate, barely inside your throat. Though you don’t understand what’s going on, or how your mind has gotten so depraved to picture this, your clit throbs in your panties and you remain obediently in his grasp, waiting for his next move. “Mm, so you are going to be a good girl for me.” You feel pressure around your throat again, though this time he’s pushing you back down. With your throat cinched inside his grip, his cock pushes at the cartilage, completely blocking your airway. Your eyes water, but somehow you remain still, the only part of you moving being your head as he uses your throat as a cocksleeve, pushing you down until your lips touch the skin around the base of his cock. 

He isn’t overly vocal, but his indulgent grunts and moans seem amplified in your ears. He moves faster once you continue to take it, fucking up into you every time he plunges you down. He reaches his end quickly this way, and when he flattens his other palm over your scalp and holds you there, a warm release sliding down your throat, sweet like condensed milk, so much that it bubbles up and pools in your cheeks, spilling down your chin. 

When he finally releases you, you come up, sucking in a shuddering breath. The spectators are still there, though it looks like the scene around you is melting, falling in on itself. The lines between things become blurred, colours on their faces merging into dull greens and browns, like mixed paint. With a horrified gaze, you watch the morphing shapes begin to clap slowly, applauding your performance. 

“I guess they liked it,” he plainly remarks. You turn to face him again, but his forehead is creased, eyes clenched shut in focus. “Fuck, that was so… I can’t hold it, shit-!” 

The moment he swears, all detail begins to fall away faster than before, the vibrant gold of his hair and tanned skin blending away into a black nothingness with the rest of the plane, and you gasp, cracking your eyes open with the sound of applause still ringing in your ears, slowly sounding out into the buzzing phone on your bedside table. You fling your arm out from the warm covers, batting it around until you can turn off the alarm, and let out a groan. 

Your eyes feel dry and crusty, like you’ve been sleeping for days, and when you rub at them the same gritty sensation from the night before stings the inner corners. You pull your fingers away and squint at what’s resting on the pads of your fingertips, unsurprised when you’re greeted with those fine grains of perfectly golden sand. Tearing up at the irritation, you gingerly remove as much as you can, swallowing the dryness in your throat. A small price to pay for decent rest, you promise yourself, though a slight curl of doubt rests stubbornly in the back of your mind.

--

That night, as you drift off blissfully early in the evening, you’re ready. Upon admitting to Yoongi that they were sex dreams - your friend was beyond jealous - he had managed to convince you that you were cursed by the mysterious stranger, that he was a witch or an incubus. His plan, which you are determined to execute tonight, involves confronting the man himself - “Don’t forget to ask him if he’ll give sex dreams upon request!” - and demanding that he releases you from the curse. 

Though you were still a little sceptical that it was anything more than an overactive subconscious, you feel assured going to sleep that at least you know what to do should he return. 

And return he does. 

Not a bathroom this time, nor a plane. In fact, it’s an environment completely foreign to you, all the more hinting at the fact that this maybe isn’t just your mind conjuring strange scenarios. Like the other two times, you feel hazy and sluggish, and it takes you a while to distinguish the scene around you. 

You become slowly aware of lush carpet fibres beneath your feet, the gentle hum of an air conditioning unit, almost totally drowned out by unintelligible murmuring, a television left on. 

He is in the room with you, on a couch. Head tilted to the side, locks of thick gold rumpled and messy. Bare feet up on the coffee table and black sweatpants riding low, exposing a narrow strip of tanned flesh below his t-shirt, he looks unbelievably… domestic. 

You swallow hard, steeling your nerve. “Hey.”

He remains unresponsive, eyes locked on the television. No, not completely unresponsive; the corner of his lip quirks just slightly. You tamp down a rising streak of irritation.

“Hey,” you repeat emphatically. 

With a sigh, the young man reaches out for the remote that rests on the arm of the couch, muting the television. He flattens you with an unimpressed look. “Yes?”

“What are you doing in my dreams?” The question seems unbelievably childish once you say it, so you cross your arms petulantly. This does not help.

He quirks an eyebrow, grin widening to reveal his teeth. “Enjoying myself,” he answers simply.

You huff. “Your stupid tent thing at the fair, was it even real?”

“Did it feel real to you? Did I feel real?” When you simply press your lips closer together in annoyance, he drops the cockiness, leveling an impatient stare at you. “You gave me permission to be here, I hope you remember. Words have power, Y/n.”

You frown at him, unsettled. “I never told you my name.” 

He barks out a condescending laugh. “And I never told you mine, but you know it, don’t you?”

You run your tongue over the edges of your teeth as you ponder this. His name comes to you like a fact once-forgotten. The moment you think it, you know wholeheartedly it’s right. “Taehyung. But- How do I know that?”

His eyebrow twitches down, like he’s tiring of your lack of understanding. “Because I’m in here, Y/n,” he hisses, pointing a finger to his temple. “I’m deep inside you, inside your subconscious. I can access every thought in that pretty little head of yours and you can’t do a single thing about it because you were the one that let me in.” 

You balk at the fiery steel that has entered his expression, the molten gold in his iris darkening as a sneer stretches across his face. You swallow away your nerves, though your chest continues to flutter uncertainly. As if Taehyung is the focal point of this plane, which you suppose he is, colours and textures shift around him, blurring into shapeless swirls at the edges of your vision. Even as he sits in front of you in startling clarity, just as malevolent in sweatpants and a tee as he was standing over you in the dark of the tent, you find your eyes unable to move off of him. You clear your throat, tears pricking. “I didn’t know what I was agreeing to,” you defend weakly. 

He laughs, one short bark that contains no real humor. “Yes, you did. I said ‘dream of me’ and you agreed. You just thought I was some fake scam artist, didn’t you?” With one swift movement, he stands up, and you falter back when you realise just how tall he is. He steps forward once, twice, three steps and his chest almost touches yours. While the swirling sands in his eyes normally jumped and flickered teasingly, now they churn in tight circles, belying his intent. You’re reminded of a shark circling in bloody water. “Well, Y/n,” Taehyung taunts, “do you believe me now?”

Though you tremble, you force yourself to push your chest forward and your chin up. “I believe you,” you allow, voice wavering only a little bit. “So, what are you?”

His lips tighten, eyes lifting to the ceiling in exasperation. You jump when you feel his hand brush your elbow, clasping your upper arm loosely. “Y/n, little Y/n,” he chastises, “stop asking questions that you already know the answer too. How terribly boring.”

You want to shake your arm out of his grip, but his touch is hot, like the heavy warmth of a fire, and you can’t help but want more of it. Judging by the way his fingertips tease at the sensitive skin of your shoulder, he knows it too. “Fine, you’re a sandman. What the fuck does that even mean?”

He sighs shortly, head tipping back down to catch your gaze. His arm drops, and you tremble at the cold air, feeling oddly put-out. “Sit down,” he commands simply. Without waiting for a response, he turns his back to you and flops his body onto the couch, kicking his feet back up onto the coffee table, eyes lazily following the characters on the muted television.

You bite your tongue, doing as he says. It’s strange; you’re barely aware of your own body in the dream, can barely feel the texture of the couch underneath you, yet every nerve in your body is hyper-fixated on the tingling remaining warmth from his hand on your shoulder. You feel yourself wanting to lean in to him in the hopes that he’ll put his hands on you again. You can’t help but wonder if it feels that electric if he touched you somewhere else. 

Fuck. Snap out of it. “I’ve sat down now. Can you actually be serious and answer my questions?”

Like a switch is flipped, his grin drops and his eyebrows flatten. “Fine,” he allows in a chastising tone, “let’s be serious.” You watch in amazement as the scenery around you drops away. Like melting wax, the television, walls, coffee table, everything but the couch the two of you are on morph and fade away. “This is my terrain now,” he states calmly, “I choose what you see, what you experience, what you feel. So if I were you I wouldn’t be so rude to me.” 

Your jaw moves for a few moments before you can voice anything. “Why are you doing this?”

His eyes flicker, though the mischievous glint is gone. “I’m a sandman,” he explains simply. “I only exist in this dream realm. I can only interact with things in the dream realm. Out there, in your world, I have no sensation, no feeling. But if I can get a naive little human like you to give me access into your mind, then your dreams are my playground. And I fully intend to play.” 

With a dry mouth, you clear your throat. “Fine,” you say, “you can do whatever the fuck you want in my dreams but leave me out of it.”

The smirk returns to his face, lips pulling back to reveal teeth. He runs his tongue over them as he sits forward, placing a hand on your knee, fingers wrapping around. You try not to jerk at the sudden touch, the burst of heat. “No can do, sweet thing. You see, if I did something without you around it wouldn’t exactly be your dream, would it? And besides,” he breaks off, grip tightening around your leg as he leans in to press his cheek against yours, teasingly nipping at the skin of your earlobe before he murmurs, “where’s the fun in that?” 

--

Your bed mocks you. This morning, wanting a clean slate, you had washed all the sheets and now it lies before you perfectly neat and pristine, just begging for you to hop in. 

But you refuse. You won’t be falling asleep tonight. If Taehyung thinks he’s in control during your dreams, then fine. You just won’t dream. 

“I thought you’d be making the most of your newfound ability to sleep,” Yoongi comments curiously, feet kicking at the edge of the mattress. You knew you wouldn’t be able to resist the exhaustion that pulled at your eyelids without reinforcements, so you had called in your favorite insomniac to keep you company. 

Swaying aimlessly back and forth on your desk chair, you shrug. “I haven’t hung out with you in ages, I felt like a good, old-fashioned sleepover.”

He narrows his eyes at you, though it’s not particularly intimidating. “I’ve never once slept over at your house, idiot. What’s the real reason?”

You avoid his gaze, studiously focusing on picking a movie on Netflix. “Fine, then. I wanted the goss on that fair boy. You got his number, right? But you never told me how it went.”

Mission successful. Yoongi lights up, suspicion forgotten. “Hoseok! His name is Hoseok, and he’s amazing. We actually… went out for coffee the other day.”

Your eyebrows lift, shutting down your laptop lid to fully give your attention to the boy across from you. “Like a date?” Yoongi grins and nods enthusiastically. “You casanova, you! What’s he like?”

Yoongi’s eyes flicker strangely in the dim evening glow that peeks through your curtains. “He’s great,” he gushes, “friendly, and bubbly, and has the most beautiful smile. But… actually, I guess you could say there’s something I need to tell you.”

You frown. “What? What’s up?”

He pouts, kicking his heels more insistently against the edge of the mattress. “The date was really nice, and Hoseok is really nice, but I couldn’t stop thinking that… that maybe I just liked him because he was like you.”

Your face freezes in an expression of pure confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Yoongi ducks his head. “I’ve been trying to deny it for years. I figured you saw me as a friend and nothing else, and I thought if maybe I focused more on guys instead of girls I could separate myself enough from the image of you, but clearly that isn’t going so well for me.” He laughs, bitterly, and you’re overcome with the urge to rush forward and hug him. Nevertheless, you stay rooted in your spot.

“Yoongi, what are you saying?”

He shrugs, body hunching over like it always does when he’s shy. “Hoseok is nice, but he’s not you. And I think it’s time that stop lying to myself.” He looks up, then, eyes soft. “I think I’m in love with you, Y/n.”

Your lips are parted, jaw slightly slack in shock. “...okay,” you state eventually. Well, this is one way to stay awake. “So, uh, I don’t- What do we do now?”

Scratching behind his ear nervously, Yoongi bites his lip. “Maybe I… Can I kiss you?” When you don’t respond, he shuffles forward a little on the bed so that his feet rest on the ground. “Just once, to see if you feel anything. And if you don’t, we never have to bring it up again.”

You sigh out a rushing breath. “Okay. Yeah, okay.” Fighting the erratic pounding of your heart, you stand up on shaky legs and sit beside him, shoulder to shoulder and nose to nose. 

Now that you’re right in front of him, something foreign rises up in your chest. It feels like he’s the only person in the world, like you can’t look away from the tender look in his eyes. You can practically feel the warmth of his skin through the thin cotton of his shirt. He leans forward, and you reflexively suck in a shallow breath, eyelids fluttering shut. 

His lips are featherlight when they first brush against yours. You feel a palm come up to cup your cheek, and his fingers tentatively fiddle with your hair. Like you’re magnetised, you lean in, and that small sign of reciprocation is enough for him. 

Yoongi deepens the kiss, mouth slanting to get a better angle as he urgently moves his lips against you, tongue dipping out to swipe at the seam of your lips, encouraging you to open up to him. You gasp when his teeth nip gently, tugging the sensitive skin before letting it go with a kitten lick to soothe the bite marks. You’ve never felt this alive before, and it’s a wonder to you that until now you had never looked at Yoongi this way. Now it almost feels like he’s pure, euphoric oxygen and you’ll die if you break away for a second. 

His hand has dipped into your hair, gently pressing the back of your head to hold you against him, and his other arm insistently grips your hip, encouraging you to get even closer. A searing bolt of need rips through you, and you swing a leg up, straddling him. He’s hard beneath you, and the feeling of him makes you groan, gingerly grinding your hips. 

His tongue is in your mouth now, flicking against yours and sucking it back into his mouth like he wants to envelop you in his embrace. His fingers tighten in your hair, gripping a handful. You whimper, hips still working against him. 

“Yoongi,” you make out in a hushed tone, “that hurts.” You sigh in relief when the sharp tugging on your scalp relaxes, his palm soothing the sting. Relaxing against him, you moan into his mouth when you feel him slip his hand under your shirt and palm at your breast, seeking out an already-stiff nipple, no bra to obstruct him. He rubs it, rolling the peak between two fingers, and you feel wet heat gathering between your legs. 

Out of nowhere, he roughly pinches and twists your nipple and your legs jerk in response to the pain, your instincts wanting you to back away from the harsh sensation, but before you can sit up off him he’s yanking on your hair again, twisting your neck back enough that you can feel the muscles twinge and your scalp burn. Your eyes fly open in shock, only for you to freeze. 

Taehyung sits beneath you, dressed in the same shirt and basketball shorts that Yoongi was in, though his much broader chest makes the baggy fabric look fitted. He stares up at you with spit-slicked lips and blown pupils, almost completely enveloping the gold of his irises. With a shit-eating grin, he releases your nipple and pats it, chuckling under his breath when you twitch. 

“Wha- What did you do with Yoongi?” you demand, as forcefully as you can while your legs are still around him. 

He drops his gaze, sliding his hand over to your other breast, the fabric moving over his hand your only warning before he begins to flick your other nipple, every few seconds as you jump and try and twist away. Though he only has one hand in your hair, you feel completely anchored in place, like your arms and legs are too heavy to move even if you tried. “Yoongi is at home, my little human. Haven’t you worked it out yet?”

“You pretended to be him,” you guess, “he probably never came over, then.” He quirks his eyebrows once in affirmation, still teasing roughly at your chest, dragging a fingernail over and over the abused nerves of your nipple, the other one still aching. “But you said you couldn’t feel anything in my world. So what, you’re just doing this to fuck with me?”

A bewildered grin lights up his face. “My god, you’re dense,” he remarks in wonder. “Let me spell it out for you. Yoongi never came over because you never texted him earlier tonight. And you never texted him because you’ve been asleep since you got up onto your bed to put on the washed pillowcases. This is a dream, sweet thing. You’re in my world.” 

“But-” You splutter for a few moments, glancing around at your room. Everything seems in perfect order. “This isn’t like the other ones, I… The dreams you create are always messy at the edges like an unfinished painting, but I can see everything fine now. This exactly what my room is like.” 

“Convenient, then,” Taehyung teases, “that I can make dreams as realistic or rudimentary as I want.” The levity vanishes from his face, leaving behind a dark grin. “You’re out of your depth, Y/n. Stop assuming things just because you don’t know any better.” 

His grip on your hair loosens as you do, realising shaking out of his hold is futile in a plane he completely controls. “Then how am I supposed to tell if something’s a dream or not?”

He leaves your nipple alone, hand dipping to fiddle with a pant hem of your pyjama shorts, calloused fingertips running lightly along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. His smile is brilliant, wider than you’d ever seen on him before. “That’s the beauty of it, little human. You can’t.” 

You shiver as his hand disappears below the fabric of your shorts, rising up to brush against the front of your panties, thumbing at your clit through the cotton. You feel the tension leave your body, and though a part of you is terrified by this knowledge, a different side takes over. The side that’s indulging in the warm pleasure unfurling in your stomach as his uncharacteristically gentle touch stimulates you. The side that says, you already know you’re dreaming now. Fuck it. 

Taehyung watches in bemusement as you relax above him giving in. Only once you sigh out in pleasure, hand resting on his shoulder for stability, does he remove his thumb from you just enough to grip onto the elastic waistband. He tugs, and you feel the strangest sensation of the fabric dissolving, being pulled off you from the side even though you never hear or feel a tear. By the time his hand emerges from your pant leg, the fabric is whole again, and he bunches it up in his hand, chucking it away from you. With your panties gone, the sewn hem in the crotch of your pyjama shorts drags against your clit, and you heave a shuddering breath, rocking your hips to chase the friction. 

“Do you want a hint?” 

You blink, staring down at Taehyung in confusion. The golden silk of his hair hangs low over his forehead, but you can’t mistake the glitter of his piercing gaze on you. “What?”

His hand leaves your hair, sliding down your back until it rests on your ass, gripping the flesh and pushing you down onto his crotch. “A hint,” he repeats, “for knowing if this is a dream.” 

You stare down at him, eyes lidded. “What?” As you speak, you feel something begin to move beneath you. You frown, looking down, and suck in a horrified breath when you lean back and see his crotch. The tented erection from before is...shifting beneath the fabric of his shorts, creating a rippling effect. You watch it entranced, as one bump slides upwards towards the waistband, prodding at it, before it manages to slip underneath, peeking out to show something that glitters in the dim lighting… 

“The real world doesn’t have this,” he reveals, leaning back slightly as a rounded, blunt end of a golden appendage draws out of his shorts, rising in the air between the two of you. It’s smooth, fleshy yet entirely inhuman. He grips your ass tighter and pulls you forward, the tentacle feeling surprisingly cool as it lays down, curling around your thigh. It clashes with the heat from his hands on you, and you feel yourself sighing out, basking in the contrasting sensations.

“Is that...your real form?” you ask tentatively, curiously reaching down to touch it. It’s firm yet moving, much like muscle, and when you run a finger down the tapering length of it, it flicks in the air, seeking more of your touch.

“I suppose,” Taehyung allows, “though when I can become anything I like, a real form doesn’t matter much.” He stares intensely at the tip of the appendage as it winds around, sliding underneath the fabric of your shorts just as his hand did earlier, though this time with your panties gone there’s nothing between him and your core, and you let out a surprised moan when you feel it begin to massage your clit, pressing its way lower to try and get between you and his crotch, seeking your entrance. Your mouth falls open, too shocked to react to anything except the pleasure, and the sandman hums in response. “You see? These things don’t exist in your world. Your world is dull, basic, human. In here, anything is possible. This doesn’t have to be a fight, Y/n. Give in to me.”

You sigh out, your stomach thick with pleasure, and you nod slowly, lifting your hips to leave some room for the golden tentacle, which doesn’t hesitate before pressing deep inside you, more and more of the tentacle slipping out of his trousers and up into your cunt until you feel a pressure deep inside, the tip poking at your cervix. 

Your legs are jelly and your fingers are iron tight on his shoulders as you moan, the sound broken up by choked gasps. “So...deep,” you pant out, mind unable to string together anything more than that, but Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind, as his brows are knitted together in pleasure too, huffing out groaned breaths in a beautiful baritone. 

“God, it’s been so fucking long, you have no idea,” he curses deep in his throat. He closes his eyes in concentration, and you feel the thick muscle shift inside you, recending from your wet heat like waves in low tide, before slamming back up into you, striking your g-spot with a change in angle. You keen, head falling forward to rest on his shoulder, wishing you were out of the restricting fabric of your shirt and shorts already, wishing you could run your hands over his bare chest and shoulders, hot like a furnace even as his golden member cools you from the inside. 

It’s a feeling you’ve never experienced. The cock inside you moves and writhes like it has a mind of its own, but it’s addictive; almost like the deft flicks of a tongue, the tentacle navigates you from the inside out, stimulating parts of you you didn’t even know could feel pleasure. You find yourself mindlessly grinding into it. Since it gets thicker the closer to the base it gets - though you still haven’t seen where that might be with how long it is - you rock yourself against it, your clit receiving delicious stimulation that has you almost drooling. 

Taehyung’s tanned skin is glistening with perspiration and the glow of his irises is so dark it’s almost amber below his lids. With his hands gripping your ass and hips tightly, he lifts you up onto your knees again so that he can begin to rut his hips up into you, the tentacle splitting you open with every thrust. You tremble and buckle but you’re somehow kept aloft, top half leaning heavily on his chest as the stretch and the deep warmth of pleasure bring you closer to the edge.

On this angle, your clit no longer grinds against the gleaming gold of his slick-covered cock, but Taehyung’s thumb blissfully finds it and you cry out in relief as he quickly rubs it, speeding up your high. “‘m close,” you moan out deliriously, feeling desperation at your impending orgasm shorten your breath. 

“Thank god,” the sandman breathes, his face increasing as he grunts with exertion, “I need to fill this perfect pussy of yours up already.”

Your mouth drops open as the constant stimulation paired with his words pitch you over the edge. Your orgasm takes you by storm, seizing up and shuddering violently on top of him. When you clench around him, Taehyung swears throatily and lowers you down again, both hands firmly planted on your ass as he grinds deeply into your core, reaching his own end.

You’re slowly on the come-down of your powerful orgasm as he begins to spill into you, and you hiss at the sudden warmth filling you up. Streaks and streaks are milked from him, and when you finally get the energy to sit up a little and look down, your eyes widen. 

Your stomach is a little rounder than normal, a bulge just below your belly button that you can see as your shirt’s ridden up. And below that, your pyjama shorts, absolutely soaked with cum. Your hands grip his shoulders as you feel him continuing to move inside you as the fabric turns dark with moisture, until you see it flood past, wetting your thighs with deep bronzed gold, rich and gleaming. When he finally twitches and goes still, the thick substance has begun to slide down your knees and stain the bed, an exorbitant amount of it that spills more and more every time you shift. 

In wonder, you lower a hand and tentatively swipe your fingers through it, marveling at the way it reflects the light and glosses thickly, dripping down to your wrist. Unable to resist the curiosity, you wrap your lips around the tip of your pointer finger and suck, letting the taste of him fill your mouth. Immediately, you hum as the rich taste of dark chocolate fills your mouth, at odds wth the metallic colour. You raise your gaze to Taehyung, who’s propped back on his elbows, staring up at you with his cock still buried deeply inside. His eyes are dark, pupils blown even wider than before as you systematically lick off each finger, being sure to flick your tongue between them before catching the drip that runs halfway down your forearm, indulging in the deep flavor. 

“Fuck, you’re gonna be the death of me,” Taehyung swears, groaning when you lean forward to press your mouth to his, sharing his taste between your lips. 

You let your tongues lazily dance around each other for a few languid moments before he curses and breaks off.

“I can’t hold it,” he admits, and you look around  to see the walls and furniture in your room crystallising and morphing together, losing detail until the colour begins to melt away, the black void slowly creeping inwards. “I don’t want this to end already, fuck.” 

You place one last kiss upon his swollen lips. “Don’t worry,” you remark with a playful grin, “I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

[taybatwo2]

Another series of drawings (from early 2021) of characters from another dream. Character descriptions under the cut.

The top picture is the surprising head of the guild for hunting monsters. He is a dark purple-blue, with a light blue underside, and a bright orange stripe separating the two. He has yellow eyes with a thin vertical pupil, small sharp teeth, a long tail with rectangular fins on both sides, a head crest of five horns, two fingers and thumb (three toes), and long wings connecting to his arm at his wrist (with a longer ”finger” connecting from his elbow that will flip outwards and extend past his arm to create his full wingspan for flight). He is able to stand bipedal and on all fours, he is capable of flight and swimming underwater (he can hold his breadth for up to two hours). This amphibious dragon can’t breath any element to my knowledge, but is extremely charismatic (he claims that his mother is a mermaid and everyone believes him) -he is the highest ranking monster in the country. He doesn’t wear much for clothing, maybe some jewelry ornamentation, but he always wears his little pendent. He can easily speak human tongues. At 18 ft tall he stands out in the monster hunting guild in more ways than one (despite being classified as a monster, he claims that he is NOT a monster as he has never ate or killed a human).

The next picture are of his three attendants. Despite monsters not commonly known as “monster hunters,” the Amphibious Dragon has reached out to other “monsters” to help bring more into the guild. These three in the upper left hand corner are accomplished monster hunters and his loyal attendants. A.D. has grown very fond of all three and would love to settle down with all three of them. All three of them wear the same matching pendent with A.D. and a smaller pendent with a mermaid on it. 

The one on the far left is a cat-like humanoid. She is the fastest, most energetic, and quick witted of the three. She has spirals going up her arms and legs, spots and rosettes over most of her face, tail, and chest. She has long pointed ears, no fur, but very fluffy, fast growing hair. She wears her pendants on a bracelet around her upper arm and weaved in her hair. 

The next one is a sheep-like demon. She is shyest of the group, but has a surprising knack at everything she does or tries. She has two pairs of eyes, arms, and horns. She has sheep ears, a little sensitive black nose, fine curly wool for her hair around her chest and shoulders that tapers around her lower arms. She has clawed fingers (12 fingers and 4 thumbs). She also has a long, prehensile tail and hooved toes. She is also a neat freak and likes to keep herself clean. She keeps both pendants on her right leg.

The third one is a rare demon that was accidentally summoned during a monster hunt. They proved to be a good friend to the group. They are the strongest and can tap into the occult arts….for just monster hunting operations…yes… They have two faces, but work very well together, usually finishing each other’s sentences. The top head/face is more like an animal, with sharp teeth and a great sense of smell and hearing. The lower head is very human-like and can act like the mom of the group and is always making sure that everyone has what they need. They have a row of curled horns going all the way down their spine/base of their tail (it is normally shiny black but glows when they are using magic). They have a furred upper head, that ends in long hair right above their human face and breasts. They have a large chest cavity, thin torso and stomach, and a curved under tail when they stand up. They have long forearms with three fingers and a thumb (they have the longest claws of the three), and digitigrade legs (they have a lot of “spring” to them), and only have two clawed toes. They have their pendent on their bracelet, and around their hip. 

The mermaid on the right hand side is A.D’s estranged mother. She has light orange hair, lots of fish-like fins on her arms, spine, her hips, and side and back of head. She has large golden eyes, and a long mouth full of small teeth. She also has a beautiful but very deadly song. She can hold her breadth out of water for a couple of hours, and likes to sunbathe and search for victims or danger. She has a mermaid and A.D.’s pendent (as a protection from being hunted). He secretly moved her to a protected lake on either his property or surrounding area that is out of the way for both her and other’s sake.

The next picture is the magic familiar of a human monster hunter. This bat has a black body, head and long heart-shaped tail, aqua colored neck fluff, yellow tummy, and pink ears. He can hold items inside of himself (like a magical portal bag), he clings on with his long claws and can be used as both a glider and flyer. He can extend his wings for carrying larger items. He is super cute, fluffy, and loyal. 

The last picture is of an assassin frog monster. He is working against both the human’s monster hunting guilds and A.D’s monster hunting guild. He is only 2’5” tall. He can walk on both his back legs and on all fours. He is bright blue, with darker stripes, orange/pink eyes, and vinyl record ear-drums. He inserts them on his ear drums and then plays the music out of his mouth (but when they played out of his mouth, he can command his prey to do what the lyrics to the songs say). He also has deadly aim with disks/cd’s/and similar shaped items. He tongue can kill on contact. 

[finaldreams1106]

My Spidey-Sense is Tingling

Hero collapsed, knees sinking into the cold mud, staring at the brilliant blue pendant abandoned there. It was exactly how they remembered it, a scarab beetle with twisting gold lines and purple wings. Thick, solid, almost impossible to break. . . like —

They tore their thoughts away, shoving the pendant in their pocket and stumbling to their feet. The rain was starting to taper off, quieting. Hero froze, listening to the quiet patter of feet on the pavement. Was it a trap?

They twisted and started to run, their shoes slipping through the slimy mud as they tried to gain momentum. They were diving into an alley within seconds, their thigh burning from the strain of trying and failing to accelerate. They turned, searching the darkness trying to spot whoever had been walking through the night.

Nothing.

The fine hairs on the back of their neck quivered, catching air movement. Hero spun around again, staring into the oppressive darkness.

Nothing.

They put their back against the brick wall, staring into the night, breathing heavily. They were holding the pendant, though they didn't remember grabbing it. Jaw clenched they put it back in their pocket.

Hero shook their head, it was nothing. They turned back towards the alley and walked into the inky blackness. More streetlights had been broken since they were in this district last apparently. Their knees and fingers were freezing wet, numb in the cold. Hero paused at the edge of the last pool of light, looking back at the small courtyard.

The pendant holder had been here, Hero couldn't refer to them as anything else. They had been here, and Hero would find them, would save them. No matter how long it took.

A sharp pain flashed in their neck, the pool of light they were looking at faded to black before Hero managed to slap their hand against the small dart now lodged in the skin of their throat.

[storytellingfandom]

It Had to be You ~ Part Ten

Summary: Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world she walked into hers.  Lin Beifong saw the world in two colors; black and white. That changes though when she meets the siren working with one of the largest gangs in Republic City.

Azami never had a choice. Didn’t have a way out. But she could destroy things from the inside. She could move information around. She could lie and smile with the best of them.

Neither needed anyone. Neither needed love. So what happens when fate ties them together? Can they save each other? Or will a smoking gun end something before it begins

A/N: A 1930s/40s LOK AU. Note that there will be themes that were present during this time including smoking, drinking, underlying homophobia, and potentially smut later on down the line. Writer’s views are not that of the characters.

Word count: 3091

Rose pinks and gold streamed in through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft, warm glow. Time slowed, the clock outside forgetting itself as the world slowly began to wake from its slumber. The world was quiet. Most of the world was still dreaming, most of the world still curled in bed. 

It was Azami’s favorite time of day. Normally, she was up with her tea, sitting in her window sill as she watched the city slowly begin to wake up.

While she couldn’t at this time, she could put the kettle on. Moving carefully, she slipped out of bed. Finding Lin’s coat, she carefully draped it over herself before making her way to the kitchen. Finding the kettle, she managed to get it filled and put it on the flame. Blowing out a breath, she made her way to the chair at the table and sat in it heavily. 

Grunting gently at the pain in her abdomen, she rested an arm over it to relieve some of the pain that she felt there. Readying her mug, she turned when she heard the whistle from the kettle and scooted the chair over to the stove. Grabbing it, she maneuvered herself, and the chair, back to the table. Pouring the hot water into her mug, she allowed the tea to steep. With that done, a grunt escaped her as she stood to shuffle back to the sitting room. Finding a chair near the window, she collapsed into it and put a blanket over her lap to keep the chill off of her. Holding the mug between both of her hands, she leaned against the chair, letting herself doze as she watched the sun make its slow ascent into the sky. 

******

A hand reached across the bed and met with cold sheets. Sitting up, Lin’s heart jumped into her throat as she looked around. There wasn’t a sign of a struggle at all, no blood trail. Jumping out of bed, she hurried into the sitting room, gun holstered and ready just in case. 

The sight near the window both wanted to make her tear her hair out and remember it for the rest of her life. Azami was sound asleep in the chair, dark brown hair falling in soft ways around her face. The soft pink and golds bathing her in a soft, warm light, bringing out red and golden tones in her coloring. A mug of tea still clutched between her hands, Lin smiled seeing her coat on her. 

Setting the gun down, she walked over to her and knelt down in front of her. Gently taking the mug from her hands, a hand reached up and cupped her cheek. 

“Wake up, beautiful.” Lin murmured, thumb gently brushing against her cheek. 

Startling from sleep, dark green eyes shot open but relaxed when she saw it was Lin in front of her. “Hey…”

“Hi, what’re you doing out here asleep when we have a perfectly comfortable bed in the other room?” Lin asked, moving just enough to put the cup down on the small side table. 

“I was just enjoying the sunrise, I must have fallen asleep, I’m sorry, did I worry you?” Azami asked, realizing that Lin waking up alone would have startled her. 

“It’s alright, I’m just glad you’re okay.”  Lin answered, leaning forward to press a kiss to her forehead. “Come on, let’s go take a look at your wound and see about changing those bandages, hmm?” 

Nodding, Azami let Lin help her to get out of the chair. Leaning into her, she was grateful for Lin’s strong arm around her waist to help keep her upright. Sitting on the bed, she leaned back to lay on it.

Lin grabbed the medical bag that Tapeesa had packed for them and grabbed the bandages and salve for the wound. Moving to the kitchen, she turned the kettle on to get some warm water to wash the wound with. Seeing the steam come out of the kettle, she poured it into a bowl and mixed the soap in with it. Carrying it back to the bedroom, she set it on the side table and blew out a breath. 

With shaking hands, she gently pulled the large shirt that Azami had worn to bed up and over her hips until her stomach was revealed. The pale skin under her fingers was softer than she could have imagined. Each touch brought up goose bumps and something in Lin preened at seeing that, but ignored it for now. 

Now was not the time for that. 

As gently as her calloused fingers could, she removed the bandages from the wound. Her heart dropped into her stomach at seeing the incision. Tapeesa had given her instructions for how to remove the stitches when it was time, but looking at it now, still swollen and the skin around it swollen and bruised. Fingers ghosted over the wound, swallowing the lump that had formed in her throat, she bent and pressed lips to it. 

Long, delicate fingers reached down and gently brushed through Lin’s hair. Fingers trying to offer her reassurance. Fingers trying to gently pull her back to their present moment. The chief of police still blamed herself for not being there. For not seeing this earlier. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I didn’t see this coming.” Lin murmured, reaching for the soft cloth she’d brought to wash the wound with. 

“Lin, you couldn’t have known that this would happen. Besides, it’s my fault with the way I went about all of this.” Azami answered, wincing a few times at the gentle swipes with the cloth. 

“You can’t have known--”

“Lin, I knew who I worked for. I should have known and been more on guard.” Azami waved away Lin trying to give her an excuse. 

Shaking her head, Lin reached for the salve and very gently began to apply it with her fingers. Once done, she wiped her hands on a towel before wrapping the injury back up again. Lowering the shirt back down again, she put the rest of the supplies away before dumping the water. Walking back over to Azami, she smiled and climbed onto the bed with her. 

“How’d I do?” Lin asked, sitting up against the pillows, smiling when Azami had moved closer to her. 

“You did perfect.” Azami answered, a grin crossing her features. “How can I ever repay you?”

“I can think of a few ways.” Lin chuckled, leaning down to press her lips to Azami’s. Several chaste kisses passed between them before she sat back up again. “Breakfast?”

“Breakfast.”

Nodding, Lin stole one more kiss before climbing off the bed. Turning, she pointed a finger to Azami. “Stay. There. You need to rest.”

Chuckling, Azami nodded and settled back against the pillows. Azami watched Lin as she slipped into trousers before making her way out to the kitchen again. A soft smile crossing her lips as she let herself doze against the pillows again. 

*******

A week passed peacefully between the two. Lin hovered over Azami as she continued to heal, each day more of her strength returning to her. After a few days, Lin took the stitches out with a steady hand, a few hiccups later, Azami was free of them and could move about more freely. 

Lin had been protective of the woman, not letting her venture outside just yet. Only letting her up for short amounts of time before insisting she needed to sit back down again. But she noticed the other woman beginning to get antsy, sitting at the windows. Moving about the cabin, fussing over things. 

That day, Lin walked the perimeter of the property, taking a look at it. The lake was something she knew that Azami would enjoy sitting at. The fresh air would do them both some good if she were honest. Content with finding them to be alone, she got a picnic together before finding Azami sitting in the library, buried in a book. 

Smiling, Lin knocked against the doorframe with her knuckles. “You up for a picnic?” 

Looking up from her book, olive green eyes blinked curiously as her head tilted. “A picnic inside?”

“No,  I just walked around and made sure no one was hiding out. I thought we’d walk down to the lake. It’s a short walk thankfully.” Lin answered, leaning against the frame. She’d chosen a cream colored button up blouse, sleeves rolled immaculately to her elbows. A couple of buttons undone to reveal the jade pendant she wore on a delicate gold chain.  Dark high waisted trousers accentuated her small waist with the belt pulled tight. Something just right for a simple date. 

A grin spread across Azami’s lips as she put the book aside and stood up. Dusting off her black high waisted trousers, she straightened the sapphire blue blouse she wore. The short sleeves revealed slender arms, the material tapering in to reveal the feminine curves under it. “I would love that, let me go ahead--”

“It’s all ready to go. Just needs you.” Lin smiled, standing up straight and held her hand out to her. 

Beaming at her, Azami gladly took her hand and followed her out to the kitchen. Lin grabbed the basket on the way out, leading the way down to where she had thought that Azami would enjoy sitting at. The shore was lined with one large willow tree, its branches and leaves hanging to offer them shelter. The grass even inside of that sporting bright flowers, gentle waves from the water lapping at the shoreline there. 

Their own quiet haven. 

Releasing Azami’s hand, Lin reached into the basket and pulled the light blanket out to spread out for the two of them. Setting the food out for the both of them, thanking the spirits for Azami’s leftover arctic hen and mango curry, the two of them settled on the ground together. 

“You’ve heard about my childhood, tell me, what was it like to be the daughter of the great Toph Beifong?” Azami asked, cocking her head curiously. 

Lin snorted and sat back on her hands. “It’s not as glamorous as you might think it was.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.” Azami retorted, dishing out food for them both. 

Lin shrugged and took the offered plate from her. “I grew up in the city, have a half sister I haven’t spoken to in years. She doesn’t live here, lives in some sort of small village that she started. Chief taught me all I know about the force, and started young too. Taught me how to shoot when I was a kid, by the time I was ten I could outshoot some of her men. Chief wasn’t home much, not after I was old enough to help take care of Su. Spent a lot of time with Senator Aang and his family. Dated their son for a while, didn’t work out. Joined the force at eighteen, hoped that would make mom proud but…” she trailed off with a shrug of her shoulders. 

“What about--?” Azami reached out to gently touch Lin’s cheek, fingers tracing over the scars. 

“My sister, she got tangled up in gang activity. Caught her, tried to bring her in, she shot off some whip thing they gave her.” Lin answered, unconsciously finding herself leaning into Azami’s hand. 

The other woman frowned deeply. “Are you kidding me?! Tell me she at least apologized since it’s obvious your mother didn’t put her in jail.” 

“Not once, tries to write letters but not one has an apology in them.” Lin answered, turning to her food to start filling her stomach. “It’s fine though, I’m over it.” 

Azami highly doubted that, but decided to let the matter drop. “Well, at least now we’ll match to some degree.” 

Pausing in her bite, Lin frowned before it dawned on her. The injury Azami had sustained would certainly scar. A forever reminder. 

She must have been quiet for too long cause Azami’s hand was reaching out to take hers in her own, thumb stroking over the knuckles. It must say something about the two of them, Azami forgiving her so easily, telling her it wasn’t her fault, staying with her. Bringing her hand to her lips, Lin squeezed it gently before turning back to their lunch. 

The two soaked in the lazy afternoon sun. At some point, Lin had found herself leaning against the tree, Azami between her legs. One arm wrapped around the woman while the other played with the ends of her hair. 

“I can’t remember the last time I’ve just sat like this.” Lin murmured, hating to break the quiet of their moment. 

“Hmm, then it’s been far too long.” Azami answered, tilting her head to smile up at her. “You need to take more time to take care of you, chief.” 

“Not enough hours to fit that in.” Lin answered, a smirk tugging at her lips. Chuckling softly at the pout she received to that response, she bent and pressed her lips to Azami’s to kiss it away. 

Lips pressed together, pulling away for only fractions of moments before coming together again. Moving lazily against each other until Lin’s tongue gently prodded at Azami’s lips, encouraging the other to open her mouth. When she did, Lin’s fingers moved easily into the other’s longer hair, tongues meeting and wrapping gently around the other. 

When air became a necessity, the two pulled away, foreheads pressed together as gentle smiles crossed their faces. Standing from her spot, Azami held her hand outs for Lin who took them, a confused look on her face. 

Pulling her close, Azami wrapped an arm around her neck and took Lin’s hand in her other. “You, Chief Beifong, owe me a dance.” 

Arching a brow, Lin’s arm went around Azami’s waist as fingers wound around hers. “Is that right, Ms. Nightingale?” 

“It is actually. After all, how many times have I sung for you and not once have you asked me to dance. All my returning audience members ask for one. And we were supposed to go out that night, and that always involves dancing.” Azami answered, smirking up at the taller woman. 

Rolling her eyes, Lin simply began to sway with her in response. “And what will we dance to, then?” 

“I know just the thing.” 

A gentle humming started then, the melodic voice guiding them through a song that Azami had recently heard and had started to associate with the woman who held her. 

“So this is love, mmm

So this is love

So this is what makes life divine

I'm all aglow, mmm

And now I know

The key to all heaven is mine…” 

Both women had run from the concept of love for so long, had spurned the idea and had accepted that they would be alone. That it was the safer way to approach life. And in their lines of work, perhaps they’d been right. But sometimes, sometimes, the universe saw fit to change those plans. 

The words of the song drew Lin in, a smile crossing her lips as she moved her head to bury it against her neck. Once again, her voice took her away. They weren’t in the middle of a terrifying situation, there were not gangs to worry about, no triads vying for power. It was just them, swaying on the stage of a club. Everyone was gone, the lights were dim. Somewhere, the gentle band was still playing just for them. Dressed in their best and not a care in the world. 

“My heart has wings, mmm

And I can fly

I'll touch every star in the sky

So this is the miracle

That I've been dreaming of

Mmm, mmm

So this is love…”

Lips brushed gently against the shell of Lin’s ear as the song finished, Azami’s fingers playing with the greying locks of hair that had escaped from the bun. Smiling as Lin pulled her closer, the two simply stood with their arms around each other. Somewhere, a bird sang gently as if carrying on the song when Azami no longer had the words to do so. The gentle lapping of water filling the silence as the two chose to lose themselves in each other for just a few moments longer. 

Pulling away, Lin smiled softly, hand cupping Azami’s face in her hand. The other woman turned her face, pressing her lips against the palm of said hand before leaning into it again. 

“You want to go back up to the house?” Lin murmured, pressing her lips to the top of her head. 

Looking up at her, Azami smiled and her lips quirked teasingly. “And what’d you have in mind, chief?” 

“Come with me and I’ll show you.” 

*******

Much later, Azami found herself standing at the window, clad in Lin’s shirt and a blanket draped over her shoulders. She hadn’t heard from June and Tapeesa and as much as she told herself not to, she was beginning to worry about them. Their go between should be there within the next few days and hopefully, they would bring word from them. 

Sighing softly, she smiled when she felt arms snake around her waist. Smiling, she leaned back against Lin and rested her head on her shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” Azami murmured, hands coming to rest over Lin’s. 

“Bed was cold without you.” Lin answered, resting her chin on top of Azami’s head. “What’re you thinking about?”

“June and Tapeesa, I’m just...worried. I thought we’d hear something by now.” Azami answered. 

“You’ll hear something soon. If anyone knows how to keep themselves, and each other, safe, it’s those two.” Lin said, gently swaying with her. 

“I know, I can’t help it though.” Azami said, squeezing Lin’s hand. 

“And they’re probably just as worried about you.” Lin pointed out, squeezing her gently. “Come on, why don’t we get some supper going . Then we can sit with the radio and a glass of wine.” 

Nodding, Azami turned just enough to press lips into Lin’s, melting at the contact for a moment before pulling away to head into the kitchen, hand secured in her lover’s as they enjoyed the simple domesticity of it. 

*****

Meanwhile, as the sun set behind the trees, a man who stood next to a large tree watched the cabin. Watched the two women in their disgusting displays. Turning to the other man that was with him, he nodded. 

“Radio Takao, tell him we found her. He can slit the old bitch’s throat.” 

[otonymous]

The Taming of the Fox: Lucien’s Firsts (NSFW Headcanon)

Hey Dear Nonnies,

Thank you both for your incredibly kind words and for waiting so patiently for these Lucien headcanons 💕You are absolutely right...I am a total hot mess when it comes to Lucien, and with the King’s birthday coming up on November 15th, I figured now’s the time to finally finish up this WIP that’s been lingering around for months 😂

Warning: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language - reader discretion is advised.  

Naughtiness ensues after the cut! 

Dark Knights In White Coats: Your Relationship With Lucien:

Things will never be "just comfortable” with Lucien, as he has a knack for keeping you on your toes.  He’ll make your heart race with the slightest touch, the briefest of glances…the most lascivious words spoken with the elegant voice of a gentleman

This will be the case regardless of how long you've been together.  In a sense, your relationship will never lose that initial spark of excitement

The man is a scorpio and has a lot of traits that typically characterize natives of this sign (according to the numerous astrology websites I’ve combed through in my lifetime LOL - no offence meant to any lovely scorpio readers!): tall, dark and handsome, intense, guarded and mysterious.  Full of an effortless sensuality and prone to jealousy

He’s the type of man to whisper sweet nothings in your ear while he’s binding your hands to the bedpost or has you bent over his knee

With Lucien, there is always something new to discover, and there are times when you feel like you will never fully understand the depths and complexities of this man.  And like a moth drawn to flame, this will both excite and disconcert you

But one thing will always, always, be crystal clear and unshakeable: the strength and sincerity of his love for you

Lucien is seemingly a man of contradictions, capable of drawing people in with his allure while simultaneously setting them on edge (this is canon)

Get ready to be the envy of all the girls: women are making eyes at Lucien left, right and centre wherever he goes, but he never spares them a single glance — the man only has eyes for you

Lucien is an INTENSE lover in addition to being the perfect gentleman: he will make you feel like the only other person in the world

When he’s with you, you’re the sole focus of his attention: he’s looking you in the eye, nodding his head while you speak, asking the right questions and making appropriate insights.  It’s not so much a casual conversation than really connecting with one another, practically spiritual at times.  He’s not one for meaningless small talk

Even when you’re not with him, you’re never far from his mind.  He’s frequently showering you with gifts for no reason other than the fact that they reminded him of you in some way: a bouquet of your favourite blooms that he saw in the florist’s storefront, a knitted scarf because he remembered the way you pulled up the collar of your coat when he last picked you up from work, a delicate pendant necklace because he can’t get the contours of your collarbones out of his head

He’s kissing your hand, opening doors, pulling out chairs, draping his coat over your shoulders as you walk through the park at dusk on a cool fall evening

He’s tucking stray hairs behind your ear and walking on the outside of the sidewalk to shield you from traffic

He’s also whisking you away into shadowy corners and dark alleyways, kissing you breathless as he presses you up against cool brick — his fervent hand exploring beneath your skirt before he hoists your legs to wrap them about his muscular waist  

You’ve never felt this way about any one else before, and you know you never will again

Being in love with Lucien is like riding a roller coaster: exhilarating, and not for the faint of heart

Kiss Me:

Your first kiss with Lucien is as contradictory as the man himself: objectively tame, yet the most sensual kiss you’ve ever received

After inviting you to an evening screening of Hitchcock’s Rear Window at the cinema, he sees you to your door, patiently waiting as you rummage through your purse for your keys

The man is standing so close that the intensity of his gaze on the back of your neck is practically palpable, so much so that you almost drop your keys when you find them

And when you finally manage to open the door, you’re lingering awkwardly at the threshold, trying to think of any reason at all to stave off that awful word, “Goodbye”

Lucien suddenly reaches out a large hand to gently finger an earring before those elegantly tapered tips graze the sensitive skin of your lobe, sending electricity down your spine and goosebumps blooming across your neck and chest

“I’ve never seen this pair on you before.  Could it be that you got them especially for our date?”

Embarrassed to be found out and not wanting to own up to how eager you were to see Lucien outside a professional capacity, you avert your gaze, staring intently at the ground as your face flushed red

Leaning in closer, the handsome tease chuckles softly, breath hot against your ear when he whispers: “Would you think me foolish if I told you that makes me very happy?"

You're positive your heart is going to beat its way out of your chest

Then slowly…slowly…Lucien’s lips cross from ear to cheek, torturously close to touch as his breath drags light across the ultra fine hairs of your skin

In the meantime, the professor's hand has travelled to the nape of your neck, thumb drawing gentle circles on your skin even as his other arm wraps around your waist to pull you impossibly close

And when those soft lips hover mere millimetres away from yours, you’ve already fallen so deeply into those dark violet eyes that the press of his mouth on your own is as natural as breathing, your lips parting in a desperate plea for him to deepen the kiss

Then, the tip of his tongue lightly traces the inside of your lips, grazing the edges of your teeth before Lucien pulls away to leave you breathless and wanting as he whispers, “Sweet dreams,” with the most devilish smirk

Forget sweet dreams, sleep itself will prove elusive as you spend the night incredibly pent up, knowing a mere wall is the only thing separating you from your seductive neighbour

Say I Love You:

Note: this portion of the headcanon was heavily inspired by Lucien’s Autumn Blaze date

It will take a while for Lucien to tell you he loves you

But when he does, the force and solemnity of his confession leaves absolutely no doubt that this is no mere lip service, that even if you doubt whether the sun will rise the following day, you cannot doubt that — body, heart and soul — Lucien loves you with every fibre of his being

The professor makes good on his promise to take you to visit the Maple Trail in Canada

And there, the two of you wander through a wooded area, secluded amongst the serenity of maple trees with their lush, crimson foliage

Suddenly, a wind blows, soft but insistent to gently shake the boughs until the bright blue sky is momentarily a blazing blur of red, leaves pulled from branches to float to the ground like tiny dancers, as if you and Lucien were encased within some fantastic snow globe

Completely fascinated, it isn't until you turn to Lucien to point out the swirling colours that you see him already staring intently at you, the yearning and melancholy etched into those dark eyes and handsome face made more poignant by the swirls of red that occasionally cut across your vision of the man standing a short distance away, the afternoon sun filtering through a dwindling canopy to bathe him in dappled brilliance.  He never seemed more dignified in his long, black coat as he did amidst a backdrop of vermilion bursts

The man looks almost ethereal.  And for a moment, you're afraid to even speak, let alone touch him, for fear his very being might disperse like mist before your eyes

“I love you.”

His voice is so soft and low that you wonder whether you imagined the words, carried away by an unforgiving gust of wind as soon as they formed on the tip of his tongue.  And just as you open your mouth to respond, you freeze…a nebulous sense of dread rendering you still and mute

You finally regain your senses at the sound of leaves crunching crisp under the soles of Lucien’s shoes as he approaches, but it isn’t until he says, “You’re cold,” that you realize your hands were shaking at your sides.

The professor swiftly unbuttons his wool coat and gently pulls you to his broad chest before wrapping it around you both.  His radiant heat and fresh, clean scent  — simultaneously arousing and comforting — stirs up a keen ache from the pit of your stomach that is quieted the further you bury your face into those hard pecs, allowing the steady beat of his heart to calm your own

Wrapping your arms tightly around his waist and willing your touch to transmit the emotions you couldn’t find the words to convey at the moment, the absolute euphoria you felt to hear those words fall from Lucien’s lips frightens you.  Because you know, in your heart of hearts, that no matter what happens, you would never love another person the way you loved Lucien.

The First Taste:

As with the professor's confession of love, Lucien isn’t one to rush into sex

When you finally get to doing the deed, it will be passionate, intense, and the closest you'll ever get to a spiritual experience

It will feel like merging physically and emotionally with a soulmate.  Like being reunited with someone who has loved you deeply in every single incarnation of your past lives

It will also absolutely ruin you for anyone else

That first night, you are both almost crazed in your passion, swept up in such a frenzy you’re already clawing at each other’s clothes before the door is even closed

It may have something to do with the fact that the two of you have wanted to jump each other’s bones since day one, despite the fact that you have magically managed to hold out till now.  The delayed gratification will make the act all the more sweet and intense

Lucien’s large hand has got your wrists pinned together above your head even as he’s kicking the door shut, his body pressing yours insistently against the wall as your legs part around his muscular thigh.  Meanwhile, his other hand yanks off his tie, fingers unbuttoning the collar of his dress shirt, which has grown altogether too constrictive, much like the crotch of his pants 😆

The rhythm of his breath is hypnotic as the professor licks the delicate column of your neck in broad strokes before sucking on the tender skin just at the jugular, Lucien deriving indescribable pleasure to feel the minute beat of your pulse against the tip of his tongue

And when he sees the colours that bloom on your flesh as a result of his attentions, he cannot help but smile in admiration at how beautifully marked you are as his woman

You bury your face in the silky strands of Lucien’s ebony hair, surrendering to this man as you drown in his intoxicating scent: the sweetness of freshly-snipped grass and the vitality of rain-drenched earth.  And everything about this moment — about you and him together  — just feels so natural, kismet.  Meant to be.

Then suddenly, the heat that had been simmering beneath your skin flares, and you positively burn for want of his touch on your bare flesh.  So when his hands grip the silk of your blouse to rip it open, your chest heaves in relief as you moan into his kiss, prompting Lucien to deepen it by slipping his tongue further into your mouth

At this point, you're tearing at Lucien's dress shirt and shamelessly grinding onto his thigh, seeking even the slightest bit of friction to ease the intense yearning for release

Your knees go weak when Lucien unhooks your bra to gently slide the straps down your arms, a reverent look upon his face as he takes a moment to admire your breasts before bending to suck a nipple into his wet, hot mouth — one hand pinching and rolling the other to a hardened peak as the other reaches down to feel the moisture dripping between your legs, making a mess of his pants even through satin and lace.

His fingers drive you insane, stroking the swell of your folds through the slick fabric before hooking around to touch you directly, the tight circles he drew about your clit making you twitch before you clenched around his index, middle…and then ring fingers, diving deep in unison until the wet sounds compete with your panting breaths in an otherwise silent room

When the professor finally removes his hand from your pussy, he brings those glistening digits to his lips, making a show of licking your arousal from each finger as he remarks in a deep, husky voice about the sweetness of your taste

Finally pulling off his dress shirt to reveal the perfection that is his broad chest, defined torso and muscular arms, Lucien drops to his knees, gently pulling down your skirt and underwear before he drapes your leg over his shoulder, hands steadying you as he tastes you directly, lips pressing soft on the inside of your thighs before his tongue is running greedily along the length of your folds as if he were trying to slake an unquenchable thirst

Just when you’re about to topple over from a shuddering climax, Lucien wraps your legs around his waist and carries you over to the bed, gently laying you down and kissing your forehead before he rises to step out of his pants

You bite back a gasp when you finally see his erection.  Sure, you had palmed it many, many times before during countless make-out sessions, but you had never seen the full extent of Lucien’s length and girth.  

You secretly thrill at the thought of taking such a well-endowed man within yourself, biting your lip to think of the bittersweetness of pleasure mixed with a hint of pain 

Fighting to control the impatient way your hips lift towards the professor as he coats his cock in your juices — his heat searing as it teased about your entrance — you focus instead on the intensity of his eyes, solemnly locked on yours even as his jaw trembled to feel you envelop him, impossibly tight as he began to push into you

Ever the considerate lover, Lucien pushes in gradually, giving you time to accommodate him - every inch by delicious inch - until he is fully sheathed to the hilt, your pussy clenching even as you breathed deep in an attempt to relax and open yourself further for him

Then, when you smile up at him, Lucien begins to move again, hips slow at first to give you a taste of things to come before he builds up speed, throwing your legs over his shoulders to allow himself to plough deeper into you.  You can literally feel him at the pit of your stomach.

At this point, the headboard is hitting the wall in time to Lucien’s hard thrusts against your body (you make a mental note to apologize to the neighbours later and say you were hanging pictures in the middle of the night)

When the professor suddenly adjusts his angle and hits that spot, his fingers reach once more between your legs to rub at your clit and you fall apart in the midst of the most intense orgasm you’ve ever experienced in your life

Pressing his mouth to yours in another desperate kiss, Lucien's release follows soon after.  And there is something so incredibly satisfying about feeling him spill hot and deep within your body, the man leaving behind a piece of himself like the way he made a home within your heart

And as he pulls you close within a warm embrace, you lay your head against his chest, the gradual descent of his heart rate lulling your pleasantly exhausted body to sleep

“Goodnight, my little butterfly," Lucien whispers, watching your eyelids flutter under the influence of sleep like delicate wings.  His heart has never, ever, felt so full.

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

You made it to the end! 😆 Thanks so much for reading, and check out more of my work here! 📚

[wildwren]

The Last Kingdom // AU Canon Divergence // Erik x Aethelflaed // Rated E

Chapter Eleven: For The Sake of a Ship, read on AO3

featuring: Erik, Christian and Pagan ship blessings, Norse spirituality   

CWs for the chapter: animal sacrifice

Erik and Aethelflaed prepare for war in the North, but first there are two ships that need to be blessed in very different ways....

They stood on the bank of the river, a disorganized crowd of warriors and servants, townsfolk and children who craned and jostled to see the ships bobbing on the water. The sun came weakly through the thin screen of cloud, but it still glinted in sharp points upon rings of shining mail, and on the cuffs of helms that had been polished to a bronze luster.

The Mercians were stiff-backed and somber with the pomp of the morning, their blue cloaks thrown over their shoulders like folded bird’s wings. They would lose their layers with desperate speed once the rowing began, Erik knew. But for now they looked fine and fearsome in their metal.

Smoke drifted across the gray water from the decks of the ships, where silent monks swung great silver pendants of flaming herbs. Oswey’s voice followed behind the sweet, acrid smell.

“Lord in Heaven, our guide and savior, I pray that you bless these ships, that they might be protected, that they may be held in the safety of your Holy love!”

He spoke with more passion than Erik was used to seeing in the man.

“May they be free from evil and corruption! May they be free from danger and disaster! May all foul demons and devils flee before them! May the men…and…the women…on these ships hold your righteous work within their hearts, may they be free from corruption, may they….”

And so it went on. The rhythm of the words became lost in the hum of Erik’s mind.

He watched Aethelflaed, where she sat astride a roan stallion, its dun-white coat brushed to a gleaming shine. She was dressed in her own peculiar way - half a Lady, half a warrior. She wore a madder-red gown which draped down to her knees, but below its hem Erik could her hart-skin trousers, and her high leather shoes fixed around her ankles with bands of hammered metal. Atop her head lay a a green-gray hood, held to her temple with a circlet of pure gold. And over her body, like the scales of her dragon, her mail shirt rippled and clung to her form. It was hooded, and it capped her shoulders before giving way to the long, tapered sleeves of her overgown. Around her waist was cinched a wide belt of braided leather and tablet weavings, a tiny tapestry rendered in green and drawn-gold thread, winding in the shapes of beasts and angels. Bjarta-Blotha swung from the front, hung even with her waist from two leather loops, its sheath embellished with silver filigree, its pommel of polished horn bright like a bone against her mail.

That had been Erik’s seax - Bright-Blood - his ancestral blade, given to her in a ritual to seal their bond all those years ago. He had not taken it back, even when she had offered. The mail coat had been a gift of his as well, and he was glad to see it still fit, for it had been fashioned especially for her shape, and now she looked as fierce and as proud and as beautiful as she had on the field of Alnecester five years before. He only hoped it did not weigh too heavy on her.

Oswey’s prayer was coming to a close. “In the name of the Lord, and in the name of his son Jesus Christ, our blessed savior, may this be done. Amen.” There was echoing rumble, as all the villagers spoke their own word in return, and Erik found his lips turning around the word as well. It was hard not to, when it seemed to live in the air. But his had been a different kind of prayer.

Amen.

The quay was suddenly churning with activity, as men shouted commands, as warriors, and horses, and the final loads of cargo were directed into place. Erik’s let his eyes leave Aethelflaed as he turned to his own work.

“Horses to the stern!” He bellowed. “Men to the benches! No sail yet! NO SAIL YET, Eadger, you fool!” The overeager youth dropped the rigging and scurried off towards his seat.

“There’s no room for your horse, Daga, we spoke of this!”

The older man tried to protest.

“I know you think it’s a slight, but we’ll have more horses once Lord Aldhelm meets us in the North. Send it back to the stables! Before I offer it as blood-tithe to the Gods!”

The man paled at that and disappeared.

“You’re not coming on my ship. You’re for Lady Aethelflaed’s crew.”

The woodswoman Clufweart looked up at him with wide brown eyes, her dirty braid swinging across her shoulder. “No,” she said with calm confidence. “She says I’m to go with you.”

Erik sighed. “She has sent you to punish me then?”

“Perhaps she has sent me to protect you, Lord.” She raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not your Lord.”

“You’re my Lord now, aren’t you?”

For fuck’s sake. This would be trouble.

“Make yourself useful, and bring me the goat that’s in the workshop there. Give the boy a penny.”

“My own penny, Lord?”

He glared at her, but he tossed her a coin and was slightly surprised when she caught it with ease. But he supposed she did have a strong arm and a quick eye with a bow. Perhaps she would not be a total waste of space.

Lady Aethelflaed’s crew was nearly settled. He could see across the water to where she sat, beneath a stretched canvas tarp. He knew his ship was meant to go first, and he panicked a bit at the slowness of his own crew. He had left her the best men, it was true. But there was nothing to be done for it now.

“You!” He commanded a cluster of oarsmen. “Stand there, along the bow.”

They did not question him, but they looked at him with wary, curious eyes as they blocked the vantage from Aethelflaed’s ship. Clufweart had returned, and the goat trotted behind her on stiff, nervous legs.

“Bring it here,” Erik said, as quietly as he could make the command.

“Why a goat, Lord? Or is there nothing better to use to wet your —-”

“Enough.”

Clufweart silenced herself, but there was a smirk remaining on her wide, round face.

“Christian men, turn away if you wish!” Erik said to the crew. “I promise I shall not despoil your priest’s blessing.” Some of the men’s eyes had started to widen, their faces turning pale or coloring with red at the realization of what he was going to do. “But I am to captain this ship,” he continued. “And I must sanctify it in my own way.”

One man coughed, spluttered, found his voice. “The Lady Aethelflaed—”

“The Lady Aethelflaed knows what I am,” was all he said in return.

He had spoken truth to Aelfwynn. It had been a long time since he had made a real offering. It is was hard sometimes, to make space for the Old Ways, when his life lay so long in Christendom. He knew his luck had gone thin, his hamingja half-starved for lack of feeding, and perhaps that was why his hugr had been so grim of late. But this ship, this ship would bring him back to life.

And so he had to make an offering.

The goat was tense, wide-eyed. It smelled its own fate like a horse smells the rain. It was a buck - a young one, Erik realized - and that was good. He held a gentle hand out to it. It flinched, but then calmed as he stroked it slowly and softly.

“It’s alright,” he whispered, close to its face. He did not look at the men, he did not know if they watched him, or turned from him, or judged him in scorn. But Clufweart still stood close, and he could feel her eyes on him as he drew the blade slowly from his belt.

“It’s alright,” he said again. “You are going to the God now.”

The breath huffed in short bursts from the goat’s nostrils, heavy and raw, but he did not bolt. Erik stared into the inky blackness of his eye, and the strange square pupil that sat within it.

“Freyr,” he said, and he did not know if spoke in his own voice or in the voice behind his voice, within his mind. The words came in the tongue of his father, in the Norse which he spoke so rarely now.

“Freyr, son of Njord, take this offering. Be fed on it, be fat on it, be full with its blood. Look with favor on this ship, look with favor on these men, look with favor on this voyage — that we may win glory, yes —- but that we may win safety, too…that these men might know peace. I offer to you, Freyr, God of my kin, for it is you who sows the growing field and sings the winnowed grain. I offer that these men may be fat on your peace, as you will be fat on the blood of the goat. I offer to you, Freyr, God of my kin, for Skíðblaðnir sails always on a sweet wind. I offer that your breath may billow our sails and protect us from harm. I offer to you, Freyr, that you may be fat on the blood, that you may bless us, I offer, Freyr, to you, to you, to you I offer, this blood, Freyr — !”

And he drew the knife across the goat’s throat. It choked, it sighed, its eyes rolled wildly, and then it buckled on its knees and the blood flowed like a red wave across the deck. Several men crossed themselves at the sight of it, but Erik paid them no mind. His was watching the eye, and the light that receded from it, carried by Freyr across the worlds.

There was a horn blast from Aethelflaed’s ship - a short, sharp sound. It was time to go. Erik stood, wiping his blade on his tunic.

“Save the body,” he said to a nearby deckhand. “We will cook him, when we reach the Trent.”

The men were all stuck in a queer silence, as if captives of the moment. Clufweart was looking at him with an unfathomable expression on her face. One man stirred awkwardly at his bench, as if to reach for his oar.

“RAISE ANCHOR!” Erik bellowed, undeterred by their strangeness. “WE ROW NORTH!”

And he felt the wind sing in response.

[monstersandmaw]

Winter Solstice - Chapter One (undergoing re-work; new chpts posted on Patreon)

PLEASE NOTE THAT THIS IS AN OLD, FIRST DRAFT, AND IS CURRENTLY UNDERGOING A COMPLETE RE-WRITE. I’ve left it up in case you’re interested, and I intend to release it in full as a self-published novel. Consider this a tease/sneak peek.

Who remembers my Fae Realm? Well, here's Chapter One of a new story set in that universe, released on Winter Solstice night (it happens at 4.19am on Sunday 22nd December in the UK, so I think this counts).

I hope you enjoy it! See the links at the end for more stories set in this universe.

It’s been up on Patreon for only a couple of days (to keep it roughly Solstice-relevant), but the second part will be up on there for longer before it gets its Tumblr debut. As it was a surprise post, it was also available to all patrons, from the Shadows tier up.

Content: female character attacked in the woods by a mysterious dark fae creature, rescued by a shadowy fae with one wing, and the Prince of the Winter Court himself... Wordcount: 1678

___

On the longest night of the year, when the veil between the Mortal Realm and the Fae Realm is at its thinnest, its weakest, she, like the chump she was, found herself riding alone through the forest between the harbour town and her  little village.

Foxfire danced between the trees as the sun’s last rays dissolved in the watercolour sky above her, and she tried to keep her heartbeat steady as she trod the familiar path back home with her saddlebags empty and her coin purse full. She’d finally sold the last of the pendants that she’d made from old iron horse-shoes to protect mortals against the advances of the Fae, but of course, she’d not left enough time to get home.

Her ears picked up almost nothing save for the whisper of snow falling all around her. The woods were silent and empty save for the hiss of the wind in the bare branches and the steady, creaking crunch of her horse’s hooves on the old forest track. No birds sang; no deer moved between the sentinel trunks of the ancient trees; no rabbits scampered through the thorny arcs of purple-limbed brambles.

She had just leaned forwards to pat her mare’s coarse, white mane, the dapple of her coat blending in with the winter around, when the silence of the woods exploded into chaos.

Something erupted out through the trees with such force that her ears rang from the crack like a thunderclap, and snow sprayed in a thirty foot arc, spattering against trees, and sending her horse rearing up, hooves lashing out as the mare neighed an equine scream of pure terror.

She fell from the saddle and landed heavily on her back, the wind knocked from her lungs and her vision sparkling. The heavy-set mare launched herself into a plunging gallop away through the trees, tail streaming behind like a banner, leaving her rider exposed beside the frozen, woodland stream and wondering what in the name of all the realms had just happened.

Then she heard it; a slow, deep growl, and the prowling footsteps of something creeping through the mist of disturbed snow up ahead at the point of impact. Her heart thudded in her ears, almost drowning out the sound of the creature, but as she scrambled backwards in blind panic, she saw it crawling out of the debris on all fours, turning its head this way and that, snuffing and scenting the air like a hound trying to find a trail.

Its body was as big as a bear’s, but it was skeletally thin, hairless, and with gangly arms and long, spindly fingers. Its skin was a mottled greenish grey, and as it swivelled its head around and fixed its gaze on her, she was met by two enormous, moon-like eyes, glowing with a horrid, dead light.

The scream that tore itself from her throat sounded foreign to her ears. She scrabbled to her feet and grabbed the first thing her hands fell on, which happened to be a stout, fallen branch. The creature skittered this way and that, bouncing playfully off the trunks of the trees, lunging after her like a cat at play, and then it opened its maw. Horrifically, its jaw split into four, fringe-like sections, like some hideous flower, and the inside of its mouth was blood red and filled with row upon row of needle-like teeth.

She scrambled to her feet, desperately trying to find traction in the mucky slush beneath her, and swung at the creature as it made its final dash towards her, quick as a spider and as unstoppable as a charging bull.

The branch collided with the side of its head, and it staggered and veered away, snarling and snapping that grotesque mouth and narrowing its enormous eyes. The drool that dropped from its four-fold lips hissed and sizzled as it hit the snow.

A blueish light shifted in the trees a little way off behind the monster, but she didn’t have time to call out for help as it darted for her once again.

This time it was too quick and she screamed again as its vile mouth clamped down on her neck and collarbone, sinking its myriad venomous teeth into her skin. Searing pain shot through every nerve and she dropped the stick, her fingers going almost instantly limp. Its disgusting breath stung her nose, its continuous and delighted snarling filling her ears, but she could barely breathe through the pain as it tightened its grip on her and brought its long, gnarled fingers to her waist and drew her close to its foul body.

She was going to die. It was Winter Solstice, and she was going to die in the rotting claws of some foul creature from the Fae Realm.

Her arms were clamped to her sides by its terrible grip on her, but as the long, hard handle of her belt knife dug into the inside of her wrist left, she thought vaguely of freeing it somehow so she could at least try to gut the creature who was going to take her life. It had to be a Fae creature, though she had never heard of one like this before. As the best blacksmith and farrier within thirty miles of the lord’s castle, she had seen the Fae pets that the nobles kept on iron chains, parading them around like exotic animals for everyone’s entertainment. Fae on this side of the shield between the realms were not supposed to be able to access their powers. This one, however, was strong and quick, lithe, and gods above, her neck was on fire with its venom.

Finally loosing the knife as she twisted, choking on the pain and screams which lodged together in her throat, she rammed the six inch blade deep into its gut. Foul black liquid gushed out, burning her hand, but the creature released its hold on her neck immediately. She staggered and fell backwards into the snow, her right hand darting to her neck that was a mess with ragged puncture wounds. The pain was indescribable, searing beneath her skin in waves of rippling needlepoints and clenching her lungs and throat so tight that breathing became almost impossible.

The creature writhed on the ground, reaching for her with its taloned fingers, scraping them through the churning snow and mud as if determined to drag itself towards her and finish her off, no matter the cost to itself. She managed to kick it in the face with her heel before she slumped back into the snow, dizzy, cold, and sweating.

“I don’t want to die,” she rasped, turning her blurring vision up to the lacework of black branches above while the snow pattered down around her. “Please…” she prayed to no one in particular.

Hoof-beats pounding through the slush made her turn her head dazedly, and a second later, a burst of darkness exploded out like a drop of ink in water, and the creature screamed. A human-shaped figure now stood beside it, and she squinted as her own vision began to dim. She thought the figure that had erupted from the pure, writhing darkness had wings, but when he turned, she saw that in fact he only had one wing, and where there should have been a second protruding from the special slits in the back of his leather armour, there was only a ragged, black stump. The right wing hung like a giant bat’s wing down his back, and she could see dapples of moonlight through its shredded membrane.

Before she could take in much more about the figure, he had clutched the creature’s head in his hands and torn it clean off in a spray of gurgling, black ichor. The thundering hooves drew close and a second person swung down from the saddle of a huge grey stallion. The horse’s hooves danced in the snow while he whinnied and snorted at the scent of the creature’s blood.

“Is she alive?” she heard a rasping male voice ask from above her.

“Yes, highness,” the winged figure swathed in shifting darkness replied. “Looks like she did our work for us though.”

“What do you mean?” he asked, and suddenly he was crouching beside her.

His clothes were simple fighting leathers, but they were tooled with silver filigree and studded with a glimmering metal that was not of the Mortal Realm. His long, silver-white hair was tied back in a simple ponytail at the nape of his neck to reveal tapering, elegant ears, and he wore a simple band of white metal around his head. As he turned to look at her, she caught a glimpse of the right hand side of his face and gasped. Where his left cheek was smooth and pale as polished marble, his right seemed, to her blurred and fading vision, to be made of quicksilver, or iridescent ice. All the planes of his face were hard as crystallised ice and his eyes were a blue so pale they were almost white.

Their voices warped, her hearing failing as the poison in that creature’s maw got to work on her body in earnest.

“She’s going to die,” the prince remarked, in much the way that a housewife might comment that someone was nipping out to the market.

“Please,” she hissed, her fingers - slick with the creature’s black blood - groping for a hold on him. She found his hand and he wrenched it back from her clutches with a look of disgust on his beautiful face. “Please… I don’t want to die. I…” Her throat closed, but as the world tilted back into darkness in a wash of agony, she caught the flare of curiosity in his grey eyes and hoped it would be enough to move him to pity.

It didn’t occur to her that asking a Fae for her life without waiting to hear the price - and on this night of all nights - was a very, very foolish thing indeed.

Part Two

Fae Realm Stories

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

—

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[kariachi]

Who finally- finally- wants some fakemon starters?! Which one will you choose?

~~~

~~~

Cerb: The Fawn Pokemon, grass type, first stage, a small brown fawn with a simple vine necklace, large red eyes, and leaves for spotting, “Most active at dawn and dusk, Cerb use their large eyes to see in the dim light. This pokemon often rests by ponds in household gardens.” “Beloved for their cute appearance, this pokemon is often ‘rescued’ from the wild by well-meaning people. This often ends poorly, as Cerb feed only off the sap of trees.”, starter, evolves at lvl 18

Lumeer: The Horned Pokemon, grass type, second stage, a small brown deer with fangs and branchlike-yearling antlers, vine necklace has become braided and gained a flower bud pendant, leaf-spots have disappeared, “Where Lumeer gather, plants often begin to wither. As this pokemon dislikes running water, people put up fountains to keep them from their gardens.” “An affectionate and social pokemon, they can often be found wandering towns and villages. Those who are cruel to Lumeer often fall ill soon after.”, evolves at lvl 36

Hydralces: The Horned Pokemon, grass/water, final stage, a large golden-brown moose-like pokemon with fangs and palmated driftwood antlers, flower bud has bloomed, back is covered with a cape of aquatic vegetation, “Disguising themselves as driftwood and pondweeds, this pokemon feeds off the life force of creatures that wander too close. Despite this, trainers of Hydralces describe them as friendly and charming.” “Very protective of their territories and young, Hydralces are considered by many to be guardian spirits of the forest ponds and lakes in which they live. They’ll chase intruders up to five miles, but refuse to cross running water.”

~~

Poolec: The Tadpole Pokemon, water type, first stage, a tadpole pokemon, blue in color, with a large, vertically flat tail that tapers off from it’s main body, small mouth, big green eyes, large hind legs and small forelegs, “When threatened, Poolec let out a loud shriek to startle their attacker. Still, this pokemon is very popular for children due to their gentle dispositions.” “Far stronger than they look, this pokemon can often be found pulling drowning or injured people and pokemon out of the water. Their swarms can number into the hundreds of individuals.”, starter, evolves at lvl 18

Froghorn: The Bellowing Pokemon, water type, second stage, a large frog pokemon, bowlegged, horns forming from the eyebrows, main color is a deep violet-blue, throat is magenta, maintains large green eyes, “Residents of large lakes, rivers, and coastlines, Froghorn communicate the boundaries of their territory with loud calls. A popular online video shows one getting into a yelling match with a concert.” “Fond of working with humans, this pokemon will actively seek out groups of people. Froghorn are popular among sailors and fishermen, who use the pokemon’s loud calls to keep track of each other on dark nights.”, evolves at lvl 32

Zaboat: The Hauling Pokemon, water/fire, final stage, a big-ass frog, main color purple, like 40% throat-sac which glows red, red stripe starts at bottom lip and wraps around the length of the body, eyes are larger and greener and glow, horns have become smokestacks, has visible eardrums colored like life preservers, “Though cumbersome on land, there are few pokemon as fast or as powerful in the water. Zaboat have even been seen hauling massive tankers safely to shore.” “Years of loud calling have lit a flame in the throat of Zaboat, and now it communicates by loosing pillars of fire from it’s horns. Their calls are as loud as the engine of a jet.”

~~

Ignist: The Bivalve Pokemon, fire type, first stage, a mussel-shaped pokemon, one shell orange and the other grey, with a black orb for a main inner body, possesses a singular blue eye, “By knocking it’s shells together in just the right way, Ignist can start fires. It’s a very curious pokemon.” “Normally seen in caves, Ignist have recently begun investigating areas farther out in the open. They strike their shells together to spark fires.”, starter, evolves at lvl 16

Musling: The Sprout Pokemon, fire type, second stage, a mussel-shaped pokemon, one shell orange and the other grey, with a black orb for a main inner body, possesses a singular blue eye, inner body has sprouted many long green hairs that grow straight up, “Musling have been known to follow passersby for up to a mile, disguising themselves as a patch of grass if noticed. There have been no reports of attacks, as locals’ signs remind trainers.” “Their curious nature brings Musling in regular contact with people. Their grassy beards are popular for weaving.”, evolves at lvl 36

Solafaya: The Gathering Pokemon, fire/grass, final stage, six Musling arranged in an even circle, each facing outward with their ‘beards’ all at the center, said beards have grown and since caught fire, “When several Musling become entangled, a Solafaya comes into being. They light their waxy fruit on fire and fling it at threats to their young.” “A cluster of Musling came together and became one. The smoke of Solafaya’s fire has a sweet scent and the pokemon themselves are social, making them very popular among campers.”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer Chapter 9: The Raid

Rain pattered in a steady rhythm. I walked down the quiet streets of a town called Chizuru, a sleepy little place on the seashore. The night was well along. In an hour, day would break. I kept my head down under the umbrella Chisei Gen held for me.

I'd changed out of my fancy silk into something that was easier to move around in. It was a dark colored robe over flowing wide trousers that looked like a skirt when I walked.

When they separated us, we were sent to different parts in the area. Caesar, Johann and Lu were miles away.

I wasn’t sure what I was going to do once the action started. I could only keep an eye out for hiding spots, cover and other potential weapons I could use. I was sure that if I didn’t die by the hand of my attackers, I risked turning into one of those servitors. Then, I would lead a scorched earth campaign against anything that moved. Until someone else killed me.

The image of Johann drawing his blade against my throat that day in the library haunted me and made me sigh.

 “Don’t be nervous.” The man next to me said  “You’re the freshman right? I read your dossier. You must be talented to be sent out on a mission this important so soon after enrolling.”

 I shook my head in response, not saying anything.

 We were not alone. Members of the Minamoto clan stationed themselves all over town. They wore fox shaped masks to conceal their identities. Chisei had another woman standing at his side, dressed in a dark body suit. “We’re receiving word from our scouts. The Devil Clan Chizuru chapter has already started to gather," she said.

 “Something tipped them off?” Chisei asked.

 She leaned over to him. “Our intelligence reports the existence of a fortune teller hybrid within the ranks of the Devil Clan. Even with their dwindling numbers, they’ve had time to stockpile munitions and make a defense.”

 He paused at the entrance of a garden park. Deep shadow swallowed the pathway ahead. It wound up a hill capped by a large building. “Our enemies are strong, but together, we are much stronger. If they know we’re here, there’s no need to conceal our presence further. Start the operation.”

 The woman bowed and walked away.

 While we stood, masked members of Cassell’s Japan Division ran up the path. They had armed themselves with all manner of guns and swords. The park came alive with gunshots, yelling and loud booms. I flinched at the sounds. We waited until the noise started to die down. A messenger in a fox mask returned to us.

 He gasped out his report. “Chief! We’re having trouble breaking through their defense! They've dug trenches and set up barriers!"

 “What are our losses?”

 “Forteen so far.”

 “Let’s not lose another man. Tell those in Paradisio to surrender to their fate. I’m coming up.” He started to walk and I followed him.

 As we approached the hill, I saw the bodies collapsed on the road. The sight took my mind back to the awful night with Isaac. The scent of their blood filled my nose. It smelled pungent and smoky, so strong I covered my face with my hand.

 Chisei noticed. "Yes, the smell of dragon blood is truly foul."

 He was closely watching the path ahead as it grew steeper. Stairways cut out of the hillside and bookended with tall red gates guided the way to the summit. 

 He removed his bow from his back, notching an arrow and pulling hard on the string. The shaft whistled into the dark. I heard a strangled cry.

 I stumbled back behind a tree, crouching to make myself as small a target as I could. Two people came running out of the dark. Arrows thudded into their chests, stopping them in their tracks. They fell forward.

 Chisei approached the bodies, drawing his sword and plunging it into the back of their necks. I gasped and turned away, one hand over my mouth, convinced I'd just witnessed murder.

 "It's safe now."

 He was waiting for me. I considered running away but it was dangerous to stay here. I needed to stay with him.

 Trembling, I stepped out from my hiding place, keeping my eyes on him and not the corpses bleeding out into the flowerbeds.

 He regarded me a few moments before returning to the path and continuing up to the stairs.

 The narrow steps were dark and closed in. He stepped to one side of them, walking off the path. "This way." He broke into a run up the steep hill through the trees on a crooked unmarked trail. I struggled to keep up and lost sight of him until I stumbled into the open.

 Chisei had already dispatched one person out of a group lying in ambush at the top of the stairs. They attacked him all at once. Chisei stayed on the outside of the group slicing and hacking until one man fell to the ground in terror, disarmed, scooting away, one arm raised in a plea for mercy.

 I squeezed my eyes shut, flinching. But nothing happened.

 Chisei sheathed his sword. "He's not one of them."

 The man got up and rushed down the hill. Chisei watched him go. "It seems that the rumors about you were exaggerated."

 Two men ran up to us speaking in urgent Japanese. Chisei gave a tranquil response, then nodded in my direction.

 “You'll be escorted somewhere safe."

 “I didn’t come here for this…" I explained, my voice shaking. "I came here to investigate a cure for unstable hybrids, not kill them!”

 He tilted his head at me, a confused look on his face. “Some have tried, none have succeeded as far as I know. Meanwhile, people are dying. And this Devil Clan… while pitiful, can’t be handled any other way now that they’re bringing a dragon down on our heads.”

 "No other way?" The words hurt. He didn't know what I was, but I felt what he said as though it were directed at me. I was stunned into silence, fighting tears. I must have held some hope that a cure existed for this news to hit me so hard. I couldn't say anything more.

He addressed the scout again. The scout bowed, deep and straight.

 With that, I watched as Chisei walked away from me.  He continued up the garden path steps where the building at the top of the hill sent out plumes of smoke and glowed with fire. 

 “This way, miss.” The scout said in accented English.

 The sky was starting to brighten and the rain finally tapered off. I was happy he let me go. I didn't want to witness what he was going to do there. I didn’t want any part of it. I just wanted to be back with Johann and Caesar and Lu.

 My relief was short-lived. We had turned a corner when I heard footsteps approach from behind.  Terrified, I backed away.

 The scout stood in front of me, drawing his sword.

The man Chisei had set free advanced on us, his eyes locked on me. “You don’t recognize me…?” He rasped. “Just as well... how did you get out of your cage… Ouroboros…?”

 I reached for the stun gun in my belt as he continued his approach.

He pulled a syringe filled with dark fluid from his cloak and plunged it into his arm. He began to snarl and his eyes began to glow. His skin darkened with scales. His hands twisted into claws.

"Miss! Run!" The scout yelled, rushing forward.

The man had turned into a servitor. He leaped in the air, his feet contacting the ground so hard I felt it through my shoes. A noise that sounded like a snapping tree limb crashed close to my ear. I jumped and looked at the scout but his eyes were closed. A black bone-like spike jutting out from the ground impaled him.

Just like in the library, I screamed and ran away. This time, I was caught. His arm whipped around my neck. His leg slammed against my shins. I hit the ground, the wind knocked from my chest. He grabbed my leg and started walking. I tore fistfuls of grass. I kicked. Anything to stop him from dragging me into the shadow of the trees.

 His breath whistled as he ranted. “Twenty three years… they kept me locked up! No freedom… No friends!  All that… is over now!”

 “Let me go! I’m not here to execute you!” I pleaded. “I was here to find a cure for you. For your condition. Please.”

 “A cure!” He wheezed out a laugh. “Aah…” He dropped my leg and loomed over me, seizing me by my neck. “Don’t you remember? You are the cure.” He brushed his clawed hand across my chest, across my pendant. He hissed out more laughter.

 “Sto-” His hand tightened, cutting off my breath. I hit at him to loosen his grip but tough scales covered his hands. Those glowing eyes stared into mine.

 “Finally, the awakening of the Light King can begin. It almost brings me to tears that I get to see it.”

 As he spoke, the ground began to shake. The trees started to sway, sending birds into the air. The sounds of screaming and yelling floated up from the town.

 The stun gun. It was still at my waist. I struggled to free myself with one hand while reaching for it with the other. My fingers were clumsy. My mind was foggy from lack of oxygen. I felt for the trigger. Desperation rose with every moment. I gave up and blindly squeezed the device.

 He collapsed, his full weight pinning me to the ground. His hand constricted further, forcing my tongue from my mouth. My lungs pulled but no air went in.

 As darkness creeped into my vision, his hand relaxed. I gasped against the pressure of his limp body until it was rolled off of me. I lay completely helpless. Breath came in rough painful gasps.

 Chisei was there, his blade dripping blood into the grass. He knelt next to me looking me over. He then tensed and left my side. 

 That monster was still snarling but its voice was weaker. “People like you could never understand… It doesn’t matter if I die today… Today I am fr...”

 The sentence ended in a wet gurgle.

 Chisei returned. He wrapped an arm around my back and another around my knees, speaking in rapid Japanese to someone I couldn't see.

 He then addressed me. "It disguised itself to escape me… but couldn't resist coming back for one more kill…" He told me, the calmness in his voice giving way to contempt. "That one there, responsible for killing fifteen girls just like you."

 "Creatures like that don't deserve any mercy or pity. Their victims deserve justice."

 If his first words to me cut like a knife, these words drove the blade deep in my heart. Everything I feared solidified into reality. 

 The justice for those men I killed? It was coming for me. How long before it arrived? Perhaps not before I hurt more people. It was just a matter of when and a matter of who. 

Would I attack the ones who had been so kind to me? How would having to kill me affect them?

Chisei carried me through the park to a road and a waiting car. "Dr. Sao will take care of you while I finish business here."

 Once inside, an oxygen mask was put over my face and my strength began to return. Still, I remained listless and numb, staring into space.

 The car rushed down the hilly streets towards the docks. They were heavily fortified with turrets and large vehicles armed with guns. 

 The eerie shrieking of strange creatures came from the ocean. I rolled my eyes upward to see through the skylight. Winged beasts soared through a blazing sunrise. Bright streams of artillery fire folded them. They fell from the sky.

 Our remaining allies were posing a valiant defense but they were outmatched by the sheer number of creatures ascending from the water. The noise hurt my ears. I clapped my hands over them.

 I would wait there hopeless, shaking and alone for what felt like hours until the door opened and I looked into familiar golden eyes. He held out his hand to me.  

"Is it over yet?" I whispered, not reaching out to him. 

Johann sighed and his face took on a pained expression. "I'm sorry. We can't leave you here. Come on." He helped me out of the car.

Lu ran and met me with a tight hug that I eagerly returned. “I’m so glad you’re alright!”  He whimpered. “I was worried about you the whole time!”

Chisei stood with Caesar. “We have only one chance at this. The submarine is filled with powerful explosives. If we can find the dragon embryo and destroy it, it will slow the attack enough that we can stop it.”

The sub, hanging on a chain between large industrial freighters, looked awfully small. Next to it a crew member typed in information and saluted. “Coordinates set and all equipment checks are green!”

Johann looked me over. He could tell that something was wrong. “Are you alright?” His eyes immediately fell on the marks on my neck. “What happened to you?"

Like a dog hearing a silent whistle, Caesar turned to me. “Something happened?”

Johann nodded, pulling down my collar to show my bruises.

“Ah… nothing a free kimono won’t fix.”  He gave Chisei a smile that didn't hide his anger.

The Japanese man just shook his head. “No one has ever returned from where you’re going. If you manage to come back from there, the kimono is yours.”

Caesar grinned, satisfied. “Like I said before, this mission will be a piece of cake! I’ll be back in time to finish the battle up here.”  He beckoned to the rest of us, eyes falling on me. 

Even though in that moment, I truly had given up, seeing him reminded me of Nono. I couldn’t make him worry about me, get distracted and die. I gave him a thumbs up, still leaning on Lu. 

Johann helped me onto the sub and down the ladder into the dark of the metal hull. There wasn’t much there. It was just tall enough for us to stand in. Once we were all inside, the hatch closed. The lights came on.

Chisei’s voice came over an intercomm system. ““We usually go through more procedures. At this point, we don’t have much choice but to drop you. Brace!”

We scrambled to cling to anything that was sturdy. Then we went into free fall and collided with the ocean so hard it took my breath away. Then we were descending, fast. My ears are ringing and popping from the change in pressure.

Lu hugged onto a pipe and muttered. “I don’t wanna drown!”

I moved over to him. “You’re not going to drown. That’s what the submarine is for, right, Lu Senpai?"

My comment was inane enough to get his attention. He opened his mouth to argue but he stopped. "Right."

The sub pointed its nose down, the engines roared to life, plunging us further into the dark ocean. 

Soon everything fell silent in the windowless vessel. 

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