#blood moon imagery with the eye and earring

[the-august-axolotl]

Wow me posting art two days in a row it’s a goddamn miracle

also if this looks a lil wonky it’s because the sketch for this was from like, January or something so it’s a lil out of date

I imagine in this canon humans wouldn’t normally have black sockets like Horror does, that’s only because her eyes were kinda hallowed out from the whole spear incident. Aside from her only people like Killer or Reaper (and maybe Nm and Dream?? Maybe Ink??) would have black sockets, everyone else has normal eyes

this is an early concept so I’d actually love any ideas or critiques for her design. It’s pretty vague for now but I wanna make it more unique (also if anyone has any idea what to do for shoes pls help I do not want to give her slippers but tennis shoes or something doesn’t really seem right either)

[pochaccoups]

“ PREY ” — choi seungcheol

pairing — werewolf!seungcheol x f!reader

summary — you are but prey to him.

wc — 2.2k

warnings — nsfw content. minors dni. smut, cunnilingus, predator/prey, images of gore and death (it’s all metaphorical), religious imagery/references (probably sacrilege oops), this is NOT omegaverse

author’s note — howling by xg on repeat recently. sorry if this isn’t what u were expecting but all my writing inspiration comes from angela carter

this fic is part of MONSTER: a hip hop unit series.

Your legs and lungs burn with the heat of a thousand fires.

You wonder how long it’s been since you started running. Was it minutes or hours? You don’t know. All that you do know is that every second that passes is a second closer to your death. It’s certain that you won’t make it out alive—it won’t let you—yet that is what makes you run faster, push yourself harder, your lungs reaching their absolute limit to provide you with the oxygen to keep going. 

There’s a crunch of leaves in the distance, to your left. It’s not behind you. It never was. 

Slowly, the sound of four separate steps hitting the earth grows closer and closer. You can only vaguely hear it over the sound of your heart struggling to pump blood through your body. 

A shriek rips itself from your throat. It cuts through the air as you’re thrown to the ground like you’re nothing more than a doll. Sharp pain slams through your body. The ground beneath you spins. Bile rises to your throat. 

Crying for help is futile. Even if you had the strength to yell, only the trees would hear your pleas. 

When you open your eyes that you hadn’t realised you screwed shut, you’re face to face with death. Daggers for teeth inside of a snarling, drool-dripping snout; yellow eyes like the moon had fallen from the abyss above and nestled into this beast; pointy ears that made the devil’s silhouette appear when your vision grew blurry. 

The last dregs of adrenaline in your body are what allow you to try and crawl away, to scramble like a newborn fawn on its unused legs. You don’t make it two feet before you’re dragged backwards through branches and dirt.

You’re not sure what makes you fight, but you do. You struggle despite the way his hands snake around your limbs like thorny vines, and every second that you keep struggling your skin stings more and more, his hold tightening until you think he’ll snap your bones.

The wolf keeps you pinned to the forest floor, revelling in the pitiful sounds of your fear. His claws find a home in your flesh, but it is still not as agonising as the anticipation—all you want is for him to get it over with; to shred your chest apart and rip your beating, bleeding heart from its seams. 

At its core, however, a werewolf is a monster. It is terrifying, not just because it is hideous, but because it is also cruel. It thrives off of your fear. You’re going to die—you know that. He knows that too, so he holds your frail little life in the palm of his hands and dangles it in your face.

Your dress becomes tatters and scraps the moment the wolf’s claws come to touch it, but he leaves your skin mostly unscathed. Mostly. 

His low growl grows louder in your ear until your skin is warm with his breath. It turns to a terrible rumble, deep and sadistic, one that reverberates through even your own chest, one that makes you cower, and suddenly you’re nothing but a small rabbit. It digs deep into your brain, finds every nook that you’ve stowed your traumas away into and drags them out until you’re no longer moving. No longer breathing. 

The wolf stands and watches tears leave salty trails down your face as they dry, only to be replaced again by more. 

You must look pathetic the way you try to scamper away again, persistent even when you’ve lost the will to persist. You are human though—to grasp onto every last fibre of hope of staying alive is innate. 

Quickly the wolf grows bored by your ‘escape’ attempts. In one sudden movement he plucks you off the ground and tosses you over his thick shoulder. 

“P-please… Let me go,” you sob as thickets of trees continuously pass by you. You hear a clock ticking in your head and it lines up with the footsteps of the beast that holds you captive. “Where are you taking me?”

Your voice is small, probably but a squeak in the wolf’s ear. Even if he hears you, he does not show it. Only trudges on to the slaughterhouse. 

Your consciousness comes and goes as fatigue settles in to replace adrenaline. As you hang limp, your body tries to put itself back together, your muscles and bones pulsing painfully from being overexerted. 

A door creaks open, then slams. Your eyes flicker open, you’re pulled back to reality. You don’t even have time to come to your senses before you’re bouncing upon a mattress.

With a groan, you push yourself to sit up, cradling your spinning head as you glance around at the wood panelled walls, the two square windows on either side of the door, and the old dining chair in one corner that’s next to a wood burning stove. 

The wolf approaches and this time you look directly into his eyes that glow in the dark of the cabin. 

He bares his teeth, but you no longer cower. 

He climbs over you, prowls along your body, and you’re swallowed by his shadow again as he pins you beneath him. 

“What big teeth you have,” you sigh, reaching up to his snout, your hand the size of a child’s next to him. 

He gives a thundering growl again, spit flying as his jaws circle your neck. It makes you grimace. 

“Okay, okay, can you turn back now? It’s hard to look at you.”

Your words work like some sort of spell. He steps back into the darkness of the cabin, and in an instant the massive creature starts to shift before your very eyes. The place begins to fill with a grotesque cacophony of cracking bones as they shift to fit a smaller body, and now it is his turn to scream in agony. The old floorboards groan as he falls to his knees, as his thick fur vanishes into pale flesh, as claws retract into fingernails.

As the monster dies, your lover is left. 

Handsome, human, features replace animal ones, and Seungcheol looks at you so fondly that it’s jarring. Even though he glistens with sweat and he’s gasping for breath and his pupils are blown out and wild, he sags with relief at the sight of you, a contrast so stark to before. 

He’s on his knees at the edge of the bed you’re perched on before you can even speak.

“Did I hurt you?” is the first thing he asks, his voice scratchy like it’s his first time speaking. He’s cautious as he reaches for you to inspect your limbs, finding your skin littered with bruises and scratch marks that make his heart clench. 

“Well, a little, yeah,” you say, and you laugh, and Seungcheol is partially comforted by your nonchalance as well as the fact that it was you who had wanted to play the part of the little hare; his prey. His eyes had bulged out of his head when you proposed your masochistic idea for a Friday night; a ‘bonding’ activity that would be fun for both of you. 

It took a while before he was convinced. He warned you that he couldn’t guarantee your full safety once he was turned. You insisted you knew what you were in for.

“I’m so sorry, baby,” he whispers into your skin before he kisses your bruised wrists, then moves down so he can kiss your grazed knees too. 

“There’s a way you can make it up to me, you know,” you tell him, your voice charged with something suggestive, something that Seungcheol can pick up on immediately. Still, he presses you.

“And what’s that, my darling?” 

“You can… eat me.” 

Seungcheol takes a deep breath, rising up off the floor so that he can lean over your body. He stares into your eyes and this time it’s much, much softer, and yet there’s a glint in them, a flash of hunger, almost like the one the wolf had in his eyes.

“You want that?” he asks. 

“Mhm,” you say, and your voice is but a whisper, as though you aren’t in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by miles of trees, as though all that will hear your voice is not birds and wild creatures—and your lover, of course. “Make it up to me.”

His gaze clouds over as his teeth sink into his bottom lip. Then he steals your breath from you once more, pressing his lips against yours, and it’s searing. Perhaps it’s the adrenaline that’s still flowing through both of you, that’s making you move with vigour. Perhaps it’s Seungcheol’s guilt, or your fiery, aching need. Perhaps it’s all of that all at once. 

His tongue shoves past your lips, makes its way against your own tongue. Your teeth clash and your noses rub together, and then Seungcheol breaks the kiss. It’s only to attack your neck in a slew of bites, teeth grazing over your skin until a mark blooms there. 

His hands trace along your body, your skin scorching beneath the remains of fabric that you’re still clad in.

“Cheol, my dress,” you sigh, tugging at his hair. “Want it off.”

Without another word, Seungcheol halts his assault on your neck, takes two handfuls of the remnants of your sundress and riiip!—and you know the fabric was no more than paper to him, but you’re only a girl and his strength never fails to leave you so flustered that your entire body grows scorching hot. 

“And this?” he says, warm hands cupping your bra-covered chest. You moan when he squeezes them, then his fingers start to toy with the straps, but he makes no move to pull them down your arms.

“Take it off, please,” you say, pushing yourself up on your elbows. Seungcheol grabs your arm as you reach behind you before you can find the clasp. 

“Look,” he says, and a second later your bra faces the same fate as your dress—a shredded heap upon the floor. 

With your tits exposed, Seungcheol can’t help but latch onto one immediately. His mouth is so warm around your nipple, and one of his hands is squeezing it while he sucks, and his other hand is playing with your other one, pinching and tugging, and you think you just might explode. 

He leaves the peaks of your tits puffy and spit-soaked, and only then is Seungcheol satisfied enough to leave your chest alone and put his hand between your thighs instead. 

“What about these?” he asks, pressing his fingers to your clothed cunt. You jolt when he does, because you knew you were wet, but you didn’t realise you had soaked through the fabric already. 

“O-off, God, please,” is your reply, hands grabbing at him, urging him, egging him on. 

He’s on his knees again, gazing up at you as he disappears between your thighs. His nose nudges against your cunt through the wet fabric, and he inhales hard until his eyes are rolling and there’s drool pooling in his mouth.

“Fuckin’ delicious,” he grumbles, licking his lips while he tears your panties in half. You’re still reeling from watching him breathe in your scent and fuck, now his tongue is on your pussy.

A shaky moan of his name leaves your mouth as he licks at every part of you, laps up your dripping arousal like he’s starving for it—he is. But finally tasting you does not bring him one step closer to satiation. It drags him further and further away from it until he’s addicted to chasing it, until he will never get enough. 

When Seungcheol’s lips seal over your clit and suck, he sends your legs into tremors, sends stars dancing in your vision, sends you into heaven. You grab at his hair, at the sheets; do anything you can do to hold on to your sanity as Seungcheol devours you. 

The harsh, indulgent dance of his tongue over your cunt makes you cry his name. You say it like you’re praying. You beg; beg for mercy, but also for more. It’s all too much, but it’s not enough. It’s heaven and hell how he works his mouth against you, clawless fingertips still sinking into your skin as he keeps your hips pinned to the mattress, keeps you splayed out all for him on a silver platter. 

Seungcheol licks and slurps and laps at your cunt until you’re dripping from his lips. He is gluttony, ravishing you even when he cannot breathe because his mouth and nose are buried in your pussy. Even when he is full, he wants more of you, blessed and cursed with eternal starvation. But you are the body and the blood. You are the Lamb, and eating you will atone his sins and he will be forgiven. 

So he tears you open; with his mouth he rips you apart at your seams until finally you come undone. Even then, he feasts on your remains as you wail and writhe, as sin burns through you, so heavenly that it must be holy. Even then, he eats, and eats, and eats you up.

thank u for reading! reblogs and feedback are highly appreciated <3

[fanaticsnail]

When We Wake

Masterlist here

Word count: 1,300+

Synopsis: Blissfully waking within the arms of your lover, you are both struck with the thoughts of how precious you have become to one another. Whispering confessions of adoration to one another while the other slumbers, you are both completely overcome with such deep devotion.

Themes: established relationship, sir Crocodile x reader, gn!reader - non gendered descriptors, suggested nudity, kisses, confessions of love, sir Crocodile is soft for you, romance, romantic imagery, morning kisses, lazy kisses.

Notes: @carrotsunshine wanted a lovestruck Crocodile to read when she finished work today. I had no choice, my hands were bound and I stayed up past midnight again getting it done. While Croco is not one of the regular characters to write for, I did find myself falling for him a little in this fic. @since-im-already-here suggested the song, because smol-snail is a queen. Was written on my phone.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @feral-artistry @since-im-already-here @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @cinnbar-bun @i-am-vita

Song: Until I Found You - Stephen Sanchez, Em Beihold

Falling asleep, content within the arms of a lover is a luxury Sir Crocodile never knew he could afford. Although extremely wealthy, he deemed himself unworthy of such an exuberant opulence. For all his shortcomings in his youth, clawing with his right hand while grappling with his left hook to be within the lap of comfort all Berry could buy: this small slice of the heavens he carved for himself with you was priceless.

It was not so dissimilar for you. You had never known a love as passionate, as heated, nor as deep a connection as the one you shared with Sir Crocodile. He was your world, and you were his. These few moments together, before the world drew first breath and the symphony of birdsong would sing to welcome the dawn, you lay in complete syncronancy.

Your heartbeats would thump to the same rhythm, your lungs extend as you drew breath in the same soothing inhale before softly exhaling in unison. If one of you shifted to rotate, splayed fingertips would search in yearning to find each other's warmth within the night: shifting blankets to adjust the heat for one another accordingly.

If you fell out of rhythm together, after a night of sound, blissful slumber, and one of you woke first: the other would gaze fondly at the lover they had taken.

When Sir Crocodile awoke first, his right hand would rise from its position against your hip, slowly raking his fingers delicately along your skin. His calloused hand was coarse and rough, but his fingers were always soft and gentle for you.

Finally, as his fingers reach your shoulders, he massages your shoulder tenderly before raking his forearm over your body and tucking your slumbering form firmly secured against his chest. His eyes were half-hooded, gazing with the softest flutter of his lengthy eyelashes down at you.

“You are so precious to me, my moon,” he whispered into your hair, pressing a tender kiss softly against your hair, “A bright light that guides me through such horrors within my darkened past.” You barely stir within your sleep, unaware such deep, devoted confessions were being freely gifted from the smiling lips of your lover.

“You are the blood that swells my heart,” his breath tickled your temple as his scarred cheek nuzzled against the crown of your head, “It would be too simple a thing to kill for you, as it would be to die for you.”

Unconsciously, your body began to burrow into his chest within your slumber. A soft moan expelled itself from between your lips as you reveled in the contact of your bare skin against his own. His final confession was whispered like a prayer into your ear.

“You command my very soul, my spirit is yours to do with what you will,” he smiled as he felt you stirring within his arms, “Should you toy with me, torture me, or choose to trust me: either way, I am yours, and I will live my life for you.”

Upon hearing his words, your immediate response upon waking was to press a kiss within the hollow flesh of his jugular notch. His breath hitched, his eyes fluttering shut as a rumbled groan in bliss swelled within his chest.

“As I am yours, my beautiful Crocodile.”

Should you find yourself to be the first to rise, your breath would hitch as your eyes met with his face. Within his slumber, he managed to break away from your embrace. Lying on his back, his hair splayed down over his face, you notice the deep furrow of his brows and the soft shudder of a snarl.

Softly and cautiously, you draw up your hands over his broad chest to hover over his face. The bright lightning-sheen of his healed scar illuminated within the soft light of the morning. You slowly lean over him, your chest lying flush against his as you straddle his waist.

You splay your forearms over his chest, elbows barely reaching the shoulders of the large man as you lay your ear flush against his chest. The rapid beat of his heart began to slow, a deep, sleepy inhale of his breath sucked in through his lips and departed softly through his nose.

“You are the most precious thing to me, my beautiful Crocodile,” you confessed your deep devotion into his chest, “No gold, jewels, nor Berry could ever meet you as equal.”

Sweeping your cheek away from his chest, you brushed your nose against his chest before beginning a trail of soft and lazy kisses over his pectorals. For each kiss you planted, a confession was whispered into his skin.

“You are the greatest man I have ever known,” you pressed a deep kiss against his clavicle bone, “Your fierce devotion to me is only outmatched by my own to you.”

The swell of his chest beneath your body indicated he was beginning to stir within his deepest rest. He sighed as he raised his right arm to unconsciously pull you closer into his chest. You elevated your chin to gaze up into his dark, violet eyes that had barely split apart between the curtain of his eyelashes.

“You are my closest confidant, my most ferocious protector,” you pressed a lengthy kiss against his jaw before brushing the hair that shrouded his face from full view, “You are all mine.” His eyes were sleepily gazing down at you, feeling the shift of your body flush against his own.

“As you are all mine.”

But should you find yourselves back within that perfect synchrony, on very rare occasions, your eyelashes would flutter as the world around faded into view. The world, as both of you knew it within your souls, was within the arms of one another. The only world that mattered to you both in those fleeting moments, before obligation and commitments called to you; was only, and always, each other.

As your joint eyelids rose together, your glassy orbs found their peace within each others' gaze. You were always the first to smile, where he was always the first to reach out to pull your body against his.

It was always up for debate as to who uttered those sacred words first. The three sought after and holy words that bound you together as one life, one body, one heart, and one soul. Those simple words that had the most mighty and hardened soldiers stutter and stumble over them in their fluster.

Immediately meeting with your smiling lips, Sir Crocodile swooped down and captured them beneath his own. Always slow, the angle of his jaw would alternate with his chin extending down and rotating to depict his heated passion. The bridge of his nose brushed against your own, the rumble of his moan expelled within your mouth as yours fled into his.

Parting your lips, you sought out more contact with your body pressed firmly against your passionate lover. You hooked your arms over his neck as he braced his right arm and left forearm around your waist.

He rolled you over his chest, before using the propulsion of the swinging motion of your body to pin you beneath him. You squealed into his mouth in shocked joy, his lips never breaking their deep contact against your own. With your lover now between your legs, you clawed at his shoulders to tug him closer.

The deep furrow of his brow, and sharp inhale of breath through his nose, had you enchanted by his enthusiastic welcome to commence the day. Almost begrudgingly, he finally split contact away from your lips to smile down at your position beneath him.

Taking a moment to silently acknowledge each other, you slowly laced your hands within the ink-black strands at the back of his head just as he leaned down to press his forehead against your own. Your whispers were almost inaudible, this confession being so scared you both dare not present it to undesirable ears.

This confession was just meant for only each other, your lips brushing briefly as you both relayed your devotion in perfect, unified symphony.

“I love you.”

[projectnewmoon]

Sonic - Project: New Moon

Chapter 5 - Haunted House of Horrors

Summary: Trapped in a ghostly realm, Sonic and the others must find a way out while facing the spirits that dragged them in.

Warnings: Drowning, swearing, violence, blood, unsettling imagery, body horror, vomiting.

Word Count: 2,966 words

-

Sonic feels himself fall into a dark, freezing void. Everyone’s voices cry out for him, but they grow more and more distant as he falls further and further down. Slowly, his ears are filled with the sound of eerie, childlike laughter. It’s impossibly dark, he can barely see his own hands in front of him.

Then there was a loud splash, and the laughter became garbled and muffled.

Water. He’s in water.

His heart starts to race. He can’t breathe.

He tries to swim, kicking and flailing his arms and legs uselessly, but he just continues to sink further. The weight of the ocean above him slowly crushes him. He can’t breathe.

No, no, no, no, no… Panic sets in, his thoughts becoming static as he sinks ever further, down into an endless abyss. Water forces itself into his lungs, claws wrapping around his insides. He can’t move. He can’t breathe.

No, this can’t be it, this can’t be how it ends, he can’t die here, he can’t drown, not now, not now, not now.

He has to get out, he has to, he has to–

“Sonic!” Two voices, distorted by the water surrounding him, call out his name. He looks around, but there is nothing. Nothing but the void.

A warm hand grabs ahold of his own, pulls him down further.

“This isn’t real!” one of them cries.

“Breathe, Sonic! Or you’ll suffocate yourself!” the other urges him.

He shakes his head. He can’t. He can’t breathe. His lungs are full of freezing water, he can feel it. The cold is stabbing at his skin and his insides like thousands of needles. He can’t breathe. Everything hurts.

“Sonic, you need to trust us! Breathe!”

The hand pulls him into the warm embrace of two people. They hold him tight. He could feel the warmth in his very soul, like something reaching out to it, calming him.

“Breathe…” he hears one whisper in his ear, her voice loud and clear.

He gasped. Air finally reaches his lungs. The weight of the water around him completely vanishes. It’s no longer cold- or, well, no longer as cold.

Sonic opens his eyes. He hadn’t realized he’d closed them.

“There we go,” Specter spoke with a slight smile, gently patting his shoulder.

Sonic looked around, first at the strange and distorted landscape, then at the twins sitting right across him, holding what looked like scythes made out of pure energy, and then down at his… paws.

Large, furry blue paws.

Had he transformed just now without realizing? Did the sun set while he was in there- wherever there was? No, that couldn’t be, it hasn’t been that long, has it?

“How do you feel?” Phantom asked.

He opened his mouth to respond, but instead, he began to cough, puffs of purple smoke coming out of his snout. The twins watched with worry, patting and rubbing his back.

And as quickly as it came, his coughing fit subsided.

“I… I’m alright, I think…” he answered once he could breathe again, though his entire body felt like it wanted to tear itself apart. He looks over his beastly form, then at his surroundings. “... Where the hell are we?”

“Spirit realm,” Phantom replied, “Evil spirits dragged all of us in with you after you went into the ring.”

“Wait, everyone? Where’s Tails and Rue, then?” Sonic pushed himself back onto his feet, looking around for them.

“I’m… not sure,” Specter gripped her scythe tighter, “I can sense their souls, so they should be somewhere around here, but- ah! Sonic, wait!”

Sonic walked forwards, looking back at Specter as she called out to him. “We’ve gotta go find ‘em. Come on.”

The two couldn’t help but follow after him, and they all walked deeper into the Spirit Realm.

-

The ground constantly shifts in odd, almost pearlescent hues, swirling like liquid under the trio’s feet, yet it was completely solid. There were no walls to be seen, but Sonic could feel them around them, invisible, yet confining them to a twisting and seemingly never ending path. It was hard to tell whether they had made any progress traversing the Spirit Realm or not.

Sonic wondered, was this a Special Zone? It felt just like one, the way it seemed to almost reject his very presence in this form and made him feel ill. Maybe this “spirit realm” is just a Special Zone the ghosts had hijacked somehow, he thought. The Emeralds give their power to anyone as long as they can handle it, after all.

His musings are interrupted by a strange sound. Is that… buzzing? And that crazed laughter again?

He looks back at the twins behind him, and is met with them fighting off a swarm of large insects. Specter is practically in tears, whimpering as she slashes away with reckless abandon, and from the edges of his vision, he can see pale white figures with unhinged smiles, laughing at her misery.

“Don’t look at them don’t look at them don’t look at them don’t– eeeAAAH!” A bug nearly flies in her face, but Phantom manages to cut it down just in time. The swarm is quickly dispatched, both the bugs and ghosts disappearing into nothing, but Specter is still left a trembling, crying mess.

“We need to keep moving,” Phantom says as he grabs his twin’s hand and pulls her along, walking past Sonic.

“What even was that?” Sonic asked, before looking down and realizing the floor was suddenly flooded with freezing cold water that was slowly but surely rising. His quills spike up and he hurries after the twins.

His footsteps feel sluggish, like he’s wading through a swamp. His chest tightened. The water is at his legs now, he could feel it.

“It’s not real,” Phantom looks back at Sonic with a stern look on his face, “It’s all an illusion. The ghosts are using your fear to slow you down and make you vulnerable so that they can steal your soul. Don’t let them.”

Easier said than done, he thought, but he shook his head, took a deep breath, and closed his eyes. Balling up his paws into fists, he continued to walk forward.

The cold weight of the water disappeared just as quickly as it appeared, and he caught up to the twins without issue.

Sonic opened his eyes once more and looked around, avoiding looking at the ground at all costs. “This is bad. How are we gonna find the others with all these ghosts hauntin’ us?”

“I can sense Tails’ soul. He’s nearby. Can’t pinpoint where exactly, though.” Phantom thumped his tail on the ground, frustrated.

“M-maybe you can, I dunno, sniff him out?” Specter suggested.

What was he, a dog?

“I mean, you’re kinda like Rue, right?” she elaborated, “You should have a better sense of smell than us. Maybe you could, like, smell him or something.”

Well, he didn’t have any better ideas…

Sonic began to sniff the air, focusing on whatever scent his nose could pick up. There wasn’t much, at least, not much he could identify, but eventually, he caught something familiar.

The smell of mint.

He rushed forward, following the minty smell as best he could, the twins running close behind. And, eventually–

“Oof-!” Sonic runs straight into an invisible wall.

He places a paw on the wall, and reality itself seems to ripple under it. Though, strangely, it felt completely solid, like glass. He sniffs the wall a bit, catching even more of that familiar scent.

“I think he’s through here!” he says confidently, “How’re we gonna get past this, though?”

“Hm… Stand back, I think I know what to do,” Specter, now having wiped her tears away and finally collected herself, gestured for Sonic to move. He takes a few steps back.

She pulls back her scythe, and with one mighty swing, leaves a large gash into the fabric of reality itself. Dark clouds spill out of the new opening, sparking with electricity.

“There he is! Tails!” Sonic called out before pushing his way through the opening. He can see his little brother just up ahead, on the floor, trembling like a leaf as rain falls and thunder crashes in the distance. Ghosts surround him, whispering things he can’t quite make out despite his more sensitive hearing.

But what he can make out is Tails’ crying.

“Stop it…” Tails sobbed, “You’re lying… He’s not…”

Thunder crashes once more. A ghost’s claw reaches for Tails’ back.

“DON’T YOU DARE TOUCH HIM!”

Sonic quickly grabbed Tails, held him close in his arms and shielded him from the storm and the ghosts. Like a wild beast, he snarled at them, violet mist slowly slipping through his bared teeth. His mind began to fog.

No, he can’t lose it now, not like he did last night. He needed to focus. Focus. Focus.

Lightning flashes. Tails covers his ears and closes his eyes shut, shaking in Sonic’s arms.

Specter and Phantom swoop in, slashing away at the ghosts, cutting them into pieces as Sonic protected Tails. The ghosts shriek and scream as they are cut down two by two, until there are none visible and the storm begins to clear.

Sonic looks down at Tails, who looks back up at him with sad, tired eyes.

“You okay, buddy?”

Tails nods, sniffling. “Y-yeah… yeah, I’m okay.”

“Poor kid looks drained,” Specter commented.

Phantom scowled. “They almost took his soul. If we were even another second late, he might’ve been a goner.”

“Good thing we got here just in time, then.” Sonic walked out from the rift Specter had opened, still carrying Tails, running a paw through his fur to calm him. “Better find Rue quick before they get to her too.”

The twins nodded in unison, following after Sonic and continuing the search for their last missing companion.

-

Phantom swung his scythe at the invisible wall, its blade tearing through it like paper, and the group walked into the newly formed rift.

They’d repeated the same process as earlier to find Tails. Using Sonic’s nose and the twins’ ability to sense people’s souls, they eventually found themselves here, in what looks like the ruins of an old town. A nightmarish red sky hangs above the group as they make their way past decayed buildings, the sound of the ghosts’ mocking laughter ringing throughout. The air smelled of humidity.

And yet, unlike when they’d found Tails, Rue was nowhere in sight.

“Rue? Rue, where are you?” Specter called out, but received no response.

“This is weird,” Sonic said as he looked about the hellish landscape, “Feels like this place could go on forever. Where could she–”

Crunch.

Sonic’s head snaps towards the sound.

“What was that?” Tails asked, his tails puffing up at the sound of another crunch, then a snap.

Sonic hurries ahead, turning the corner and stopping when he steps on something… wet.

The pungent stench of rot fills his nose, and he looks down to see a pool of a green substance rippling at his feet. He looks towards its source.

A pile of bodies, bloody, broken, and torn apart. Faceless illusions, all of the same child, a wolf pup with blue and white fur wearing a pink dress, all stained with green blood.

Rue stands in the middle of the carnage, paws and mouth stained and fur covered in viscera. Their whole body shook, their eyes unfocused. A figure of Nox stands right in front of her, faceless, just like the children. The only discernible feature on his face was a grin twisting around his mandibles.

The twins tried to call out to them, but their cries fell on deaf ears. Rue snarled at the illusion of Nox, forcefully grabbing him by the neck and choking him. With a sickening crunch, the figure fell limp.

But the figure was no longer Nox. In the blink of an eye, it had become the child in Rue’s paws. The lifeless body slipped from their grip and onto the pile, and they quietly stared at it, an unreadable expression on their face.

“Rue!” Specter yelled as she and Phantom threw their scythes towards an unseen enemy. The weapons spin and cut through a horde of ghosts behind Rue, destroying them all in one fell swoop.

Sonic hurries over to Rue’s side, grabbing them by the cloak and pulling them down into the pool of green blood. As they pick themself up, something begins to rise from the pile of bodies. Something big.

And whatever it is, Sonic could feel a lot of Chaos Energy radiating from it.

The twins summon their scythes, and everyone watches as the bodies meld and change into a large, white form. A giant ghost rose from them, with crazed multi-colored eyes and blue, frostbitten lips twisted into a permanent smile. It opened its maw, revealing teeth as black as obsidian and insides of bright, swirling colors.

“That’s… That’s the King of Spirits…” Phantom muttered, clutching his scythe tightly.

Specter’s fur rose. “No way…”

The King of Spirits dove into the ground, becoming a shadow and rushing after the group.

“Look out!” Sonic yelled out as its maw rises from the shadow, attempting to eat him and Rue, but he drags her out of the way just in time to avoid it.

Specter gasps. “It wants to eat you guys’ souls! Keep it distracted and give us an opening to strike!”

Sonic nods and runs, Rue following closely, and the malevolent spirit gives chase.

Scythes drawn, the twins run after it.

It dives down again, trying to bite down on Rue. She manages to push herself and Sonic out of the way, but she falls, coughing and heaving. Purple smoke comes out of her mouth.

“Ah, shit-! C’mon, you gotta get back up!” Sonic grabs her paws, pulling her up just as the King’s shadow approaches. It pops out once more, its maw snapping shut as it eats nothing but air.

But now they were cornered. Neither of them had realized they’d run into a dead end, and there was no way Rue would be able to get away, out of breath as they were. Unable to find an exit, Sonic braced for impact as the King opened its giant maw, its smile unfurling as its mouth grew wider, its entire body slowly splitting in half and revealing more and more knife-like teeth.

But just before it can eat them, Sonic sees Tails struggling to carry the twins just above the King. He lets them go, and in a matter of a second, the blades of two scythes stab right into its head.

The King lets out a deafening screech as it is slowly, painfully cut down by the twins. Its insides splatter out from the gash, raining technicolor ectoplasm on the now fading illusion of the town. It falls and begins to fade, leaving nothing but a red Chaos Emerald in its place.

Tails flies down, and grabs the Chaos Emerald, and before anyone knew it, the realm was swallowed in blinding white light.

-

Sonic opened his eyes once more and found himself lying on his back, staring up at the desert sky, now painted in beautiful yellows, oranges, pinks, and blues right at the edge of the horizon.

“GOOD GAIA BELOW, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK WAS THAT?”

Tails lies next to him, clutching the red Chaos Emerald close to his chest. “We finally got our third Emerald… Ugh, my head’s spinning so much, I feel like I’m gonna throw up.”

Somewhere behind him, Sonic can hear Rue actually throw up. Which surely does not help Tails feel any better.

“That was… wow, holy shit, we just killed the King of Spirits.” Specter stared off into the distance in disbelief of what had just happened.

“I wanna go home,” Phantom stated plainly as he stared off into the distance with his sister, a troubled expression on his face.

“Oh, man,” Sonic pushed himself to sit up, looking at the twins, “I’m so sorry for dragging you all into that. That was a nightmare.”

“Are you kidding?! That was sick!” Specter exclaimed.

“That was probably the worst day of my life,” Phantom said as he stared right into his very soul.

“We got to fight the King of Spirits! And WON!”

“I never want to think of this ever again.”

“AND you guys got the thing you needed! SO I’d say today was a pretty good day!”

“I wanna go home.”

… Well, at least one of them had fun?

Sonic turns around to look at Rue, who was still on their paws and knees, trembling. He gets up, walks up to them, then kneels down beside them.

There is now a puddle of bile on the sand in front of them. It stinks. He elects to ignore it and focus on Rue.

“Hey, uh, you okay?” he asks.

They don’t respond. Their eyes are unfocused, staring at nothing in particular.

“I know we don't really know each other that well, but… Do you… wanna talk about it?”

They shake their head slightly, still silent.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want to either, to be honest.”

He sat down next to them, watching the sunset.

“It's getting pretty late. Y'think you and the twins can get back home safe?”

No response.

“Hm… Hey, y'know what? I think all of us need a bit of a break. How about we camp out for the night?”

“That's fine,” they finally reply, mumbling.

“Awesome. I'll go let the others know. If you need anything, just say so, okay?”

“Mm.”

And with that, he got back up and walked back to the rest of the group, announcing their impromptu camping trip and hurrying over to the Tornado to begin setting everything up to spend the night.

[demonscantgothere]

Litost, Ch. 37: Tower of the Moon

During Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor, Galadriel is captured in the middle of a war, imprisoned, and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged. | The prisoner exchange in the Ithil Vale goes terribly wrong. Galadriel/Sauron | Halbrand. Explicit. 212.6k | 6.2k chapter.

—From Minas Ithil, her new home.

Galadriel saw it in her mind’s eye. The beautiful tower in which she was to live with him, like a pearl beneath the moon, glimmering underneath the starlight. She saw the sheets of her bed, red as blood and soft as silk like the imagery he had shown her through the palantír. She saw the dining hall and its dance floor, just like the one in Pelargir, as he spun her around in his hand while she laughed, her ivory gown twirling around her in a cloud of blissful movement, spinning, spinning, spinning.

The world came into focus, but blearily through the haze of her pain, as a torrential burst of sea-green light exploded upwards—up, up, up into the sky like a rupturing dam of water, coating all of Minas Ithil in its ghostly light of green, bright and beautiful but terrible to behold. Galadriel’s eyes grew wide as it came crashing downwards in another wave, rushing outward through the sky from the top of the tower and expanding outwards, the sea-green light all a haze like water, rushing like waves, bursting with sea foam towards her—

“Galadriel!” Arondir hollered in her ear, but his voice sounded so far away—so very, very far away from her as something tugged at her body, but she was numb to it and she barely felt it. “You must get up! Quick! Galadriel, please!”

Keep Reading

[arizonapoppy]

A Tangled Web Book Club: Jan 8th

First, I had to look up a Ford Coupe.

This is the only one I can find. Possibly too late for the book, but it looks awfully cramped for the business at hand:

1928 Model A Sport Coupe, from the Ford Website

Now, onto the meta part.

The thing that jumped out to me was the animal imagery in this section. The predominant animal in this section was cats. We hear that

Aunt Becky has "eyes bright as a cat"

"The jug is bringing more things in than the cat."

Pennycuik is "as well-groomed as a cat"

Nan Penhallow is "smooth as a cat's ear"

None of these things seem to be good implications. This seems odd to me because cats seem to be positive animals in other books. (Such as Good Luck and Banjo in Blue Castle)

There is one canine metaphor, where people talk about the Moon Man "yelping to the moon all last night," like a wolf or a coyote. I'm guessing that they mean a wolf, since coyotes did not arrive to PEI until the 1980s. Wolves sound more lonesome than a pack of coyotes, which makes me pity Moon Man than the Dark-Penhallows, who seem to find it amusing at best and annoying at worst. Listening to a pack of coyotes barking together (rather than the lone one howling) can be terrifying actually. It still sends shivers down my spine after the summers I heard them while awake in my tent at field school.

And then finally, Nan Penhallow's mouth looks like she "made a meal of blood." That sounds definitely vampirical and very unpleasant, setting the scene for the conflict between her and Gay.

[merakiui]

[ii.] ᵐᵒʳⁿⁱⁿᵍ ᵈᵉʷ ᵇˡᵘᵉˢ

serial killer!jade leech x female!reader cw: brief mention of death/murder chapter i│chapter ii (you are here)│chapter iii

Today’s Horoscope: It is advised that you tread with care today, for the next twenty-four hours are scripted with new opportunities for personal improvement. 

In the private confines of the blue-green aquarium you sit before the outline of a police officer, his image constructed from moon jellyfish that are so red they resemble blood cells, and he asks you a grocery list of questions ranging in specifics. Riddle’s witness statement came before yours, and you try to picture his face as a source of comfort while you power through the underwater interview. Instead, his crimson hair provides you with more unsatisfying imagery and you grimace as you relate your account to the officer. There’s a notepad and a pen in front of him, but he doesn’t pick it up. The answers you rattle off automatically write themselves in messy, slanted script. It’s in a language you can’t comprehend. 

His final question—what frightens you?—comes and goes and it isn’t long before you’re out of the interrogation room, where a fidgeting Riddle waits in the lobby. You reach for his outstretched hand, fingertips just brushing, and the scene falls away when you blink, bursting like a bubble on the water’s surface. Unable to pursue the crooked memory any further, you find yourself standing in an opulently furnished room with a vaulted ceiling and arched windows, curtains parted to reveal swarms of jellyfish in the distant blue outside. A piano sits in the center, bathed in dappled shade and awaiting a skilled player. 

There’s a hand on your shoulder and then a voice as smooth as alabaster invades your pounding eardrums. 

“I’ll play something for you. Name a piece.” 

“A piece?” You move to turn, but the man has covered your eyes with his gloved hands. “Um… How about my favorite song?” 

He doesn’t respond and when you reach up to peel his hands away from your face they have morphed into a blindfold. Darkness closes in, snuffing every warm beam of light that attempts to pierce through, just as a familiar melody begins to play. It’s an enchanting sound, filled with a fantastical sort of whimsy that sings of youthful confessions and a bouquet of dandelions. 

The intercom, hidden deep within the vast room, crackles and the tinkling tune abruptly ends. “Hello? Is this on? Can you hear me? I’m trying to reach you. Is my voice reaching? Hello?” 

You whirl around in alarm when the door slams shut and yank the cloth down to search for the culprit. 

“I need you to listen,” the woman, whose voice has become strained with urgency, says. “Something is wrong. An instability. No, more than that. It’s—protect you—something else... Can you—listening to me… Not safe. Something is—” Shrill static devours the rest of her warning, bringing with it a suffocating silence that fills the room like toxic gas. And then she speaks again, but her voice has retained its robotic quality. “Today’s color is blue. As vast and wide as the sky and sea, as deep and dark as water’s soul, blue is the color of trust and sincerity. It is the color of bruises and sadness. It is the color of you.”

You’re shaken awake before you can comprehend her words, tugged from the ethereal tendrils of the dream world by your phone’s cheerful ringtone. Groaning, you snatch it from the bedside table and stare at the caller ID. 

“Riddle… What does he want?” Rubbing your bleary eyes, you place your phone against your ear and mumble a sleepy greeting. 

“Took you long enough! Oh. It’s earlier than I thought. I must have woken you.” 

“No, no. It’s…” You pull your phone away to gauge the time. “It’s fine. I have to get up anyway. I’ve got this run with a friend, so it’s probably good that you acted as my alarm clock.”

“Then I won’t keep you any longer. I just…wanted to call.”

“Uh?”

“T-To check in!” he insists with a cough. “Right. That’s all there is to it. And now that I know you’re well I’ll hang up.” 

“Wait. We got caught up in a mess, right? It’s my fault. I’m sorry.”

“Rather than admitting fault, I’d say it’s for the best that we stumbled upon it. Who knows how long that man would have remained there had we failed to notice him.” He exhales slowly. “At the very least, we prevented someone else from finding him. Had it been a curious child or a couple of reckless teenagers…”

“But it’s disturbing, isn’t it? He was…” You lower your voice, as if doing so will save you from a nonexistent threat. “Someone killed him and they could still be out there.” 

“It’s not something we should dwell on. The authorities will handle it.”

“Are you sure you’re okay? You sound tense.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“Are you handling it fine? No nightmares? No fear?”

“I’m…handling it.” 

“If you want to come over to my place, you’re more than welcome to. We can do some stuff to take our minds off of it. Oh! What if we made that strawberry tart you like so much? That’s still your favorite dessert, right? I’m not really good at cooking, but I think I can handle baking. There’s also this mug cake mix I bought recently and I’ve been wanting to make it.” The line goes quiet. You think he might’ve hung up because of how deafening the silence is, so you add, “Or I could come over and help you with your furniture…or something.” 

“Thank you for the offer, but I have prior engagements tonight,” he finally says.

“Rain check?”

“About your application—”

“Hey, no fair! You can’t just change the subject!” 

“Time waits for no one. You should submit it as soon as possible.” 

“I know, I know. I’ll do it.”

Stop pestering me.

“Good. I’m wishing you all the best.”

“Thanks…” You turn on your side in bed, staring at the empty space beside you. “When are you free?”

“Aside from my shifts, I haven’t planned anything for the weekend.” 

“Really? Then we should hang out! I’m free on Saturday.” 

“All right. I’ll let you know what time works for me.”

“Cool! I can’t wait. There are so many fun things we can do! I’m a great tour guide, you know.”

“I’m sure you are.” There’s another prolonged pause before he adds, “Well, now that we’ve established that I’ll see you tomorrow at work. Enjoy your run.” 

“You should come with!” 

“Thank you, but I’d rather not subject myself to such an exhausting activity. And at such an early hour of the day, no less.” 

“You can walk. Azul does that sometimes. It’s not a big deal.”

“One moment. Did you just say—”

“Oh, the time! I should get ready. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Sure… Yes, okay. Have a pleasant morning and don’t forget to—”

You end the call and cast your phone aside. For a moment you lay there, staring up at the dull ceiling as last night’s events play in blurry detail. You can recall the horror that engulfed Riddle’s expression, so raw and real that even the most skilled actor could never hope to imitate it. Your chest fills with a terrible ache when you think back on what led up to the discovery. If you hadn’t been so insistent on dragging Riddle along with you, this could have been avoided. Neither of you would have witnessed the brutality that befell an unfortunate man. If you were so deep in the emotional trenches, you could have called Azul or Cater or anyone with enough willpower to shoulder your baggage. 

“My dream!” you exclaim, shunning all thoughts of Riddle and the murdered man as the realization hits you. Scrambling for your phone, you input the password and open your dream diary to a blank entry. “What was it about? Shit. No, no… There was something red and—or was it blue? No, red. Red and…Riddle. Or am I remembering him because we just talked?”

Defeated, you sigh into your pillow. Only a few words litter the draft: blue, red, Riddle, murder, interrogation. You’re certain there’s more meaning to those keywords, but the dream is fragmented beyond repair, lost within the folds of your brain. It’s impossible to compare the significance of your dream and the intercom lady’s colorful prophecies to your horoscope when you can’t remember it in its entirety. And when you can’t use one to interpret the other, how can you possibly rely on what’s truthful? 

Maybe I should make today a lazy day. I’ll call Azul and tell him I’m not feeling well. He’ll understand. 

After minutes of quietly sulking, you pick your phone up and swipe to your contacts. Your messages remain soulless, a facet of life you’ve grown accustomed to. As you scroll to find Azul’s number amidst the few you rarely contact, a notification pops up from the dating app you’ve yet to uninstall. You tap it on instinct and are instantly pulled from your messages to the app, where a dozen texts await you. From strangers to past hook-ups to new matches, there are almost too many for you to handle. Among them, one profile stands out. You tap on the chat. According to the timeframe, the two of you were conversing just after midnight. Before you can kick yourself for bothering her at such an ungodly hour, you skim the conversation. 

And that only prompts you to grimace. If only you had a shovel so that you could bury yourself and evade the encroaching shame. 

[(Name)] Quick question.

[sea♡sluggi] :D quick answer!!

[(Name)] Is my voice reaching?

[sea♡sluggi] ??? this isn’t a voice call sorry. do u wanna talk???

[(Name)] Can you hear me? I’m trying to reach you.

[sea♡sluggi] i’m not sure i understand :( ´◦ω◦｀): ur messages are sending just fine if that’s what ur worried about

[(Name)] Something is wrong idk what does that mean? i d k. You used it before in the diary. Sometimes it’s blue. Tonight was red. Red red red red red red red blue must protect you.

[sea♡sluggi] lol;;; umm

[(Name)] Have to go. Waking up now. Try again later.

You stare at the screen, eyebrows knitting together, while attempting to make sense of the exchange. You comb through your head in search of the memory of your fingers flying across the keypad at one in the morning, but all that bubbles up are hazy images of the boardwalk and the corpse tied to the post, the waves crawling onto the shore as a police officer separated you from Riddle, and the anxiety splayed across his face as he stood with his hands folded primly in front of him, as if he intended to pray the macabre away. 

And then, just as you attempt to recall the brief interview with the officer, you draw a blank. The rest of that night fades into obscurity, leaving you with an eerie sense of emptiness. 

Flustered, you find yourself typing out a simple excuse: Just read last night’s convo and wtf was I on about??? I think I had too much to drink sorry if I scared you!

Sluggi’s response is immediate: np!! ^^ i was a little worried. ur okay, right?

You swing your legs over the edge of the bed and assure her that, other than the hangover that’s currently crushing your soul, you’ll be okay. Her next text is brimming with understanding and you heave a breath that mirrors her relief, even if it’s mainly due to the fact that she fell for such a subpar lie. 

Chewing your bottom lip, you debate sending another text. Sluggi seems nice enough from the tone of her messages—so long as you’re interpreting them correctly—and you’d like to have another female friend to talk to when midnight calls with Cater fail. Instead your fingers slide over the letters and you write something else. You click send before you can drown in doubt and jump up, determined to start the day with a fresh bout of confidence despite last night’s grisly madness. 

“No lazy days!” you announce to your room. “I’m going to get up, see Azul, and make today a good day. No matter what.”

Framed in the golden glow of the rising sun, its rays extending to form an arching crown, Azul stands beside the entrance to a beachside trail. Dressed in slim-fitting activewear, he raises his arms above his head in a long stretch of popping joints and clicking bones. Another man lingers next to him, a silent shadow, and he brushes a dark strand of hair behind his ear with lithe fingers. You stuff your car keys into the pocket of your nylon leggings and jog over to him, a broad smile stretching your lips. Every inconvenience that has burdened you since last night vanishes when he catches your eager stare and returns your glee with a genuine grin. 

“Azul! Hey!” You stop before him, heart exploding into an elated frenzy. He’s so normal compared to the gore that haunts your headspace like a persistent phantom. “Sorry I’m late. There was lots of traffic and I got a little distracted listening to the radio, and as a result I got off on the wrong exit. I hope you weren’t waiting too long.”

It wasn’t a bad horoscope, you remind yourself. The radio said so, so I’ll do everything I can to follow it even if I can’t remember my dream. 

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.” 

“Safe and sound,” Jade adds, and you’re suddenly made aware of his presence as he waits patiently near Azul. 

“Good morning, Jade.” You adjust your crop top so that it hugs the upper half of your torso more comfortably. “I wasn’t expecting to see you today.” 

His eyes flick briefly to the jagged scar that runs up the length of your stomach before settling on your face. “I couldn’t possibly miss an opportunity to exercise on such a pleasant day,” he says, smiling. “The view here is truly a joy to behold.” 

Nodding in agreement, you glance at your surroundings. The beach runs parallel with the trail, a pathway that’s the length of a mile and a half. On the other side, dense forestry crawls towards the weathered concrete, cracks spider-webbing through it like the shattered surface of a mirror. You’ve run the distance plenty of times in the past and it’s been just over a year since Azul started accompanying you. You’d wanted him to stay in shape after he complained about the models on Magicam and how they always looked so flawless.

No one’s perfect. But if there’s something you’re unsatisfied with, you can work hard to improve upon yourself, you’d explained while he pouted at his phone. After some negotiation, he begrudgingly joined you the following day, claiming he was only doing it for the experience. Definitely not because it was you who convinced him.

“Floyd’s not here?” 

“Thankfully,” Azul says, but he falters at your critical look. “Thankfully…because he’s back at the club cleaning, I meant! Of course it’s a shame he can’t join us. I guess.” That last part is muttered and you pretend to have not heard it. You know Azul prefers it when it’s just you and him and, if you’re being completely honest, you like it that way, too.

“He’s missing out. The forecast said it’d be sunny all day.” You fall into step between Jade and Azul as the three of you walk past the rugged cedar sign. From the earthy scents clinging to the treeline to the salty air rolling in from the white-capped waves, you immerse yourself in the miracles of Mother Nature. Inhaling a breath of land and sea, you ask, “Did either of you dream last night?”

Never missing a beat, Azul replies, “I’m afraid not. Dreams are rare for those who work.” 

“Really?” 

“A hard worker dreams less frequently because they’re always exhausted, so when they fall asleep they don’t have enough mental energy to produce dreams. It’s like trying to get a robot to carry out tasks when it’s low on fuel.”

What are you, a dream doctor?

“But I always dream when school starts and that’s usually stressful. Actually, now that I think about it I can’t really remember my spring semester. All of the partying and drinking felt like one crazy dream. Despite that my grades were good. I think. And it wasn’t too tiresome. I…think.” 

“It’s because you take those things too lightly that you’re able to dream. I envy you,” he says with a mournful sigh. “The youth are so carefree these days. It must be refreshing.”

You roll your eyes. “Or maybe you’re dreaming every night but aren’t remembering. That’s why I keep track of my dreams. You should, too.”

“I’m certain I’d be able to remember whether or not I dream. My memory isn’t Swiss cheese, (Name).”

“Well, regardless of that it’s quite the blessing that you’re so imaginative. Dreaming is therapeutic for our minds and bodies.” 

“Ooh, like an overnight therapy session for the brain! You totally understand it, Jade.”

“Indeed. Although it’s very unlucky that our dear Azul can’t dream. A life without dreams is meat without seasoning.”

“A flower field without flowers,” you add.

“An ocean without salt or a feast without a main course.”

“I get it. I’m dreamless,” Azul snaps, glaring. “To think that both of you would pair up against me… I’m heartbroken.” 

“Aw, don’t be so sad, Zuzu. You’re a dream to me.” To complete the cheesy line, you form a heart with your fingers and send him the cutest wink you can muster. 

He bristles and a deep cerulean coats his cheeks. “(Name), you are a wonderful creature. Talented, gracious, and occasionally amusing. But for the sake of your pride and my cringe tolerance, never say that again.”

“Yeah… I promise it sounded better in my head.”

I am never using that line again. Why did I say that? 

“On second thought, I’m getting a head start.” Abandoning you and Jade, he jogs a generous distance ahead, soles pounding out a steady rhythm on the concrete.

“The two of you have known each other for a while. One would assume he wouldn’t be so flustered at this point in your relationship,” Jade remarks as he strides beside you, arms folded behind his back. 

“No, I think he’s just cringing. I’d run away from myself if I could.” Smiling at the hilarity of the situation, you mutter, “I don’t mind it, though. I like it when Azul’s honest. It makes the time I spend with him even sweeter.”

“I suppose.” He chuckles, tilting his head at you like a curious bird eyeing fingers through the bars of its cage. “They say true love often feels like a dream. Perhaps you aren’t so inaccurate when you make such claims.”

You blank at those words and then an uneasy laugh trickles out of you. “I wouldn’t call it love, per se. We’re just…together. He helps me with money problems and I help him with whatever he needs help with. That’s all there is to it.” 

“What wonderful mutualism.”

“That’s one way to put it.” 

“Would that make you the anemone and Azul the clownfish?” Jade hums as he ponders the answer to his hypothetical. “Or perhaps it’s the other way around? Clownfish are known to be territorial of their anemones, but as an upcoming marine biologist I’m sure you’re aware of this. Perhaps there will come a day when another fish wishes to indulge in the anemone that is Azul.”

“I hope he won’t toss me aside when that day comes.” You roll your shoulders while viewing the scenery that stretches ahead, a portrait of natural serenity. And at the very center of such a picturesque scene, Azul stands, his gait having slowed into a strut. He turns to wave you onwards, a broad grin playing at his lips. Your heart, rejuvenated and reanimated, floats like a cloud. “If that happens, I think I’ll stay on the sidelines and let him do his thing. Like watching jellyfish in an aquarium. They’re prettier when separated by glass, but when you’re within touching distance it can be dangerous.”

“Are you saying Azul’s dangerous?”

“Not at all. In fact, he’s too soft. You ought to see him every morning. It’s cute.”

“And yet you claim your heart is not bound by love. How peculiar.”

Heat claws up your neck and you cup your hands around your mouth to enunciate your intonation. “A-Azul, wait up! Jade’s being weird!” 

Jade’s gentle laughter grows increasingly faint when you take off down the path. Once you’re beside Azul, you heave an embarrassed sigh. 

“Define ‘weird,’” he insists. “I can assure you Jade can be weirder.” 

“It’s nothing. He’s just…annoying.”

“Those words have vastly different meanings.”

“Not in my dictionary!” Your inquisitive stare bores into his side profile while he admires the road ahead, a twinkle in his powdery hues. “Hey. Um… If you were in love, what would you do?”

“If the object of my admiration reciprocated, I’d confess. If they didn’t, I’d simply keep it to myself.”

“What if you didn’t know you were in love?”

“I’d figure it out eventually. There are signs and symptoms.” He flicks his hands about as if discarding something filthy. “Butterflies and whatnot.”

“You say that as if it’s an underlying illness.”

“It most certainly is! Haven’t you heard of lovesickness?”

“That’s just an exaggeration. Like saying you’re so hungry you could eat another person.”

“Depending on someone’s opinion and their experiences with love, it can be viewed as such,” Jade interjects, and you whirl around to find him standing behind you and Azul. “Lovesickness itself isn’t considered a mental ailment by most doctors. It’s more of a biological response. Sometimes you can’t help longing for a certain person or a love that will never come to fruition.”

“Hah!” You smirk at Azul. “See? It’s completely normal. Not a disease.”

Azul scowls in return. Despite the ferocity smoldering in his countenance, you know from experience that he isn’t truly cross with you. Aside from the occasional bickering, which usually ends in good-natured surrender from either of you, you’ve never engaged in an actual argument with him. There’s no shrieking until vocal chords are frayed and spent, no onslaught of tears that come pouring after venomous words have been spewed, and no shattered hearts after short-term separation. In fact, now that you’re dwelling on it, Azul almost always tries to avoid falling into any conflicts with you.

“And have you ever felt lovesick?” His playful question dissolves your bravado like sugar in water and a sardonic smile twists onto his face. As always, even when he’s slyly prodding at the truth, his energy is invigorating. It lures you in, dangling itself before you like a worm on a hook and you’re the foolish fish who has taken the bait. “I’d love to hear how you felt about your lovesickness. Why not explain it now? We’ll gladly lend you our ears.” 

“Okay, that’s not fair! I was a kid and love was so sparkly and there was this really cute boy…” As soon as you catch sight of their knowing grins, you shake your head and step away from them. “Forget it! It wasn’t even a bad feeling. It was just… Can you believe I gave him a bouquet of dandelions? I mean, of all the plants to give the love of your life…”

“You poor soul. I wouldn’t do such a brainless thing.”

“It’s the thought that counts, no?” 

“I tried to give him a basket of tomatoes after that. I don’t think little (Name) had much going for her back then.”

“Tomatoes! That’s rich! Could you imagine receiving a vegetable bouquet as a gift?”

“It would certainly make for a delicious feast,” Jade says, which earns him a snicker from Azul and a groan from you.

“Looking back, there was no way he’d ever fall for me. Not with the things I was giving him. And yet I continued to like him.” Shaking your head in dismay, you turn your gaze skyward. “Love is so odd.” 

“But you admit it’s a sickness, right?”

“I guess. Sometimes it’s irritating and—hey! No way!” You swipe at Azul, who narrowly dodges your attack. “Start running, Ashengrotto! I’ll give you a workout for real this time and by the end of it you’ll admit love is nice and great and definitely not a disease!” 

“I’d like to see you try!” 

Relishing in the competition, you set off after Azul, leaving Jade to follow dutifully behind as he always does whenever he accompanies the two of you on your morning run. 

And as you chase him, abandoning recollections of those summer days spent standing outside of that special someone’s window, you realize you wouldn’t have had nearly as much fun as you are now if you’d listened to your concerns and stayed home. 

Stop worrying so much, you remind yourself as you race towards Azul. You’re okay.

Once you catch up to him, you throw your arms around him with a triumphant shout. “Got you!”

“Get off of me! You’re sweaty!”

“So are you.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Thanks for putting up with me on these runs. I know it’s not the most exciting thing in the world.”

“It’s not so bad. It is part of our arrangement, after all.”

“You’re literally the worst. I was genuinely thanking you and you brought up that stuffy contract!”

“Yes, yes. Crucify me for souring the moment.” His eyes soften when you pull away and he grabs your hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “It doesn’t matter where we are or what we’re doing. As long as I’m with you, it’ll always be enjoyable.” 

Don’t say stuff like that.

“Oh. Um. Y-Yeah, I agree.”

If you say that with such a sincere face…

“What’s this? A group hug?” Jade asks, standing before the both of you with his arms spread.

Vexation darkens Azul’s visage and you roll your eyes, both of you exclaiming in unison, “Go away, Jade!” 

His hand shields his mouth as he chuckles, eyes crinkling with mirth. “How precious.”

I won’t know how to truthfully respond.

[embrassemoi]

No Sweeter Innocence Than Our Gentle Sin

It’s October 31st, 1981, and Sirius was looking for his next meal when he bumps into a mysterious woman.

↳ PAIRING: Vampire!Sirius Black × F!Reader

WORD COUNT: 10.2k

CONTENT: NSFW 18+, smut, murder, blood drinking (feeding), P in V, mentions of child abuse, dom!sirius, sub!reader, obsessive thoughts, praise, slight degradation, fluff, crying, overstimulation, possessiveness, dubcon?, love confessions, religious imagery, slight manipulation?, plot

NOTES: It’s time for the #dietmonsterfuckers to RISE. And Happy Halloween everyone! I really hope you’ll enjoy this xx

Silhouetted by the waning crescent moon, daunting walls rose from the shadows that towered over the dark alley. With every sharp twist and turn, loud panting rebounded throughout as a deep scorching sensation lashed at the man’s throat; lungs consumed in painful gasps as he sprinted.

With both his body and brain on overdrive, he was left with no other choice but to run.

Legs blurring together, his neck craned back to catch a glimpse of the figure chasing him until confusion clouded his mind rather than fear.

Because nothing was behind him. It was gone and far too quiet.

Coming to a slow halt, the man bent down, hiding behind a large rubbish bin. Through the dizziness and building nausea that threatened to rise, he attempted to even out his laboured breaths with little avail.

Clutching his shirt to find a grip on reality, ears on high alert for any approaching footsteps — any sign that suggested that the attacker was near — nothing was close. Nothing that seemed within proximity.

He swallowed hard; a cold sweat forming on his brow that made its way down the side of his face — mixing into the open gash on his forehead for a diluted substance. He hissed, exhaling sharply.

Quickly mapping out a routine in his mind; if he ran and was lucky enough, he could make it to Charing Cross in ten minutes flat.

Forcing himself out of his daze, the man stood, feet finding his footing and adjusted to begin running again — only to immediately be met with a crushing blow that struck at the centre of his chest.

He fell — flew backwards — a sickening crack resounded through the alleyway.

Thudding to the ground and too stunned to register the pain, the man’s eye latched onto the Italian leather shoes nearing him. The clicking of the heels mimicked a ticking clock; a countdown.

Click. Click. Click.

He could hardly breathe as all sense of panic returned.

“Nice effort,” the attacker drawled, voice dangerously low as he cast him a sinister grin.

Even then, the man was transfixed by the attacker’s beauty and charm; the figure had pale moonlight skin, his obsidian hair was waved and perfectly laid as if he hadn’t been hunting him — toying with him for the past hour.

Attempting to scramble back, a sharp kick was delivered to the man’s ribs, forcing him back on the wet ground.

“Wait! Stop —” he shrieked as the attacker stomped hard on his leg, bones shattering.

Any shred of hope of escape vanished as fretful tears flowed down his face, continuing to scream and grunt in pain.

Healthy, crimson blood seeped through the man’s trousers. The mysterious man above grinned wickley, bending down to fist his shirt as he lifted him, pinning him high against the nearby brick wall with unnatural ease and swiftness.

His eyes flashed a deep red; far too similar to pure black.

“Too bad, you’re a pretty one,” the attacker chuckled deeply. His accent was old and aristocratic, as if he were from a different time.

Jerking his head, he flicked locks of hair out of his face. With lidded eyes, he leaned in, inhaling deeply. He tsked.

“We could’ve had a little more… fun, too bad you ruined it.”

Another scream tore from his lips as the attacker gripped his shoulder, splintering more bones.

“W-wait!” He pleaded, staring into the man’s eyes. “P-plea-se don’t do t-this! I — I have a son!”

It was a mistake peering up. It was a horrifying sight.

Instead of a handsome relaxed grin, it was wiped with the contortion of teeth — sharp fangs poking out from its mouth: shining, glistening in the low light — perfect and straight and white as snow.

“Don’t do this?” It mused, smirk dissipating and grasp stiffened. “You didn’t stop striking that poor child when they asked you. Your son, right?”

He screamed again, his wrist snapping.

“Fuck! Shit! I’m sorry —”

“I heard the screams, you know. Heard them from miles away. Heard them for days,” it sneered. “But don’t worry, he’ll be with his mother.”

“I — how? W-what are you?!”

The attacker didn’t answer.

Instead, its sharp fangs sunk into his neck. The lifeless body fell to the ground within minutes.

A long sigh escaped him as he bent down to the slumped man, picking him up with one hand and hoisted him on his shoulder.

Discreetly, he managed to discard the body in an abandoned house, waiting to be found within a week.

There wasn’t anything to worry about. The man’s screams were covered by the shouting, blasting music and laughter from parties; countless horror movies playing and nearby pubs bustling.

It was why Halloween night was Sirius’ favourite time to hunt. He never had to worry about being caught.

It was always a feeding frenzy; the smell of lust, blood, sweet and fuck — he could perfectly tune in on the blood pumping, coursing throughout the human’s bodies. He had his pick; each beat clear in his ears. And with everyone too consumed with each other to notice that someone had disappeared from plain sight, never returning, it was too easy.

Granted, Sirius tried — he bloody tried to be good and live the rest of his vampiric life as a saint, surviving solely off animal blood. He even tried those shitty diets James loved to recommend before he had found his mate, Lily. Sirius even went as far as to follow the whispered trends amongst the rest of the vampiric community in Britain who had formed their own version of the hippie movement: vegetarian diets. Lion blood, lamb blood, rabbit blood — all sorts of animal blood.

Sirius scoffed. Hippie vampires, who would have thought?

Because at first, he desperately wanted to be good — to be as human as he could be. But how human could he be? With cold skin, a still heart and bloodlust churned inside him, nothing but the vessel he lived in was human. But he liked to believe.

So, he found an alternative: slaughter the worst of humanity.

Was it fair to play God? Morally no. But to him, he viewed it as serving a sick, twisted sort of justice that the law system failed to do. He never felt bad, hardly. It tugged on his consciousness a little, but at that point it was natural selection.

And God was it satisfying.

Stepping away, the back of his hand wiped across his chin as he sucked his bottom lip between his teeth to savour any blood remaining.

His face scowled at the taste.

Over the years of feeding, biting, killing, Sirius had come to discover and expand his preferences.

He preferred women’s blood over men’s. They were sweeter, more satisfying, softer and undoubtedly beautiful.

Men were nowhere as sweet. Their blood was thicker, held a strong metallic taste that was a little too bitter for his palette. However, they carried more blood and sustained him for longer periods.

Blood lust and arousal went hand in hand. Sex while feeding was taboo, but the best in Sirius’ opinion. That or cuddling, or rather during any intimate moments, came to a close second.

But then again, every vampire had their own preference and Sirius tended to run towards those of a sweeter taste. Unfortunately, he had yet to find anything that met his standards.

Yet.

He had been hungry, starving, looking for the sweetest blood he could find. In fact, he’d been searching for over a century to fill that constant ache — an everlasting prickle at the back of his throat, one that was only temporarily soothed by the random men and women he found.

As he turned to leave the dingy house, he caught his attention in the reflection through a broken window pane.

“Fuck,” he muttered, huffing as he spotted droplets of scarlet that bleed into his loose white blouse. He liked that one — vividly remembered buying it with Regulus back in the late eighteen hundreds.

At least for Halloween, he could go as himself — let his fangs show and play it off as hyper-realistic prosthetics. It would even make feeding more accessible.

“Always one for the dramatic,” a voice came from behind him, emerging through the thick blanketed fog and shadows. “I still don’t think you should kill them.”

Sirius scoffed, pulling his long, fluff coat tighter around him to hide the blood. “You encouraged me.”

James smirked. “Because nobody particularly fancies child abusers.”

Clicking his tongue in agreement, they walked back onto the busy streets of Soho, bordering Chinatown.

However, yet expected, James shifted to a concerned state. “But remember our laws. No —”

“No mindless or unnecessary slaughter,” Sirius started. “Which, by the way, I think that was very necessary. No biting anyone under the age of eighteen; don’t turn a human against their will and blah, blah. Happy?”

James rolled his eyes, shoving him.

The main street was decorated with bright lights and props — intersections blocked off by transportable cones decorated as witches’ hats. Costumes, vivid makeup, bodies of all shapes and sizes roamed with smiles plastered on. Halloween music thumped loudly, the vibrations being felt through every fibre as doors were left open, people entering and exiting various shops. Some even danced on the street — small stalls selling pumpkins and hot drinks; all looking for their next paycheck.

As they passed, men and women winked Sirius’ way, thriving off the attention. If they knew what he was…

He could have laughed! Humans… They were so simple-minded, borderline stupid. Always so trusting and easily charmed.

James sniffed the air casually, moaning at the scent of food wafting from the nearby stands. “I think that’s what I miss most. Human food. Pasta…”

“I miss being warm,” Sirius added, playing with the rings on his fingers.

James hummed, weaving his way through the crowd until they found a wooden bench to sit on.

“So where’s Evans?” He asked, propping one leg across his knee. “Surprised she isn’t here.”

“With Lupin.”

Sirius’ head whipped to James, his nose wrinkling as disgust washing over him. “Why do you keep that mutt around?” He questioned bitterly. “Let alone with your mate.”

“If you get to know him, he’s not bad. I quite like him.”

“He’s annoying.”

“He’s terminally shy. Hardly speaks.”

“Smells like a dog.”

“I — okay. You’re right. But we also smell to them.”

“He tried to kill me!”

“You were on werewolf territory!”

“By accident! James! Come on, back me up! We’re sworn enemies,” he scoffed. “Vampires and werewolves.”

James sighed, ruffling his messy hair. “And you’re a part of the reason why.”

As he was about to respond, Sirius abruptly closed his mouth as a woman walked past. His head tilted curiously, nose scrunching as he fixated on her as she searched through her bag.

It was a grossly unfair statement in Sirius’ mind to only define her as beautiful. She was a carefully crafted masterpiece, fine art that could drive any artist mental with the realization that they could never achieve anything nearly as perfect.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Before he could think twice, gauge his actions, Sirius stood, speeding up to her quickly as her shoe skidded across a particularly edged pavement. She didn’t have enough time to brace herself as she fell.

In a swift swoop, Sirius’ arm reached out, bracing the woman and cradled her to his chest in a protective manner. The odd sense to protect, to give, to have, flared through his mind as instinct took over. A shock, much like an electrical current, passed through them both, raising every goosebump and hair on their bodies.

Time stood still.

With touch alone, she managed to coax the cold right out of him, leaving Sirius fuzzy and warm; the purity of daylight’s last spark in its purest form, beyond a mortal keen — an angel — all in his very hands.

The hammering of her heart resounded in his ears, deafening him momentarily, forcing his brain to rewrite itself as she spoke.

“— Thank you,” she breathed. Sirius saw his reflection mirror in her wide eyes, both equally confused and starstruck. “I — wow. You actually swept me off my feet.”

He forced himself to cough, reluctantly letting go.

“Uh, yeah. No problem. I’m just glad I got to you in time,” he rasped. Wetting his lips, he bent down to pick up her fallen items.

“Oh sir, you don’t have to —”

“Please, I don’t mind.”

Truly, Sirius didn’t. He was completely and utterly fixated on her, a spell being cast on him.

With her belongings safely stored in her bag, countless thank you’s and her soft smile, if he had a beating heart, it would have thudded into overdrive.

He leant forward, wanting to get a proper smell of her blood but the wind blew the opposite direction. He lamented, instead, meeting her eyes.

She was already flustered.

“Really,” he replied, tone becoming silky smooth, hoping it would charm her. “It was my pleasure.”

But her sweet smile faded, a look of worry replacing it. “Oh, I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’m going to be late to work.”

No! No, no, no! The voice inside his mind screamed. A strange urge of desperation bloomed through his chest, panicked by the thought.

She pivoted, and Sirius had to grip his jacket to prevent himself from reaching out.

“But do you see that?” She pointed to the busy pub across the street. “Come with me. I’m a bartender and the drinks are on me tonight — as a thank you.”

Sirius grinned like a mad man, nodding feverishly. “I’d like that.”

“Perfect! I —” Her eyes darted behind his shoulder, presumably as James before returning to him. “I’ll meet you inside?”

“Meet you inside.”

She threw a fleeting glance at him before turning around. James came, clasping his shoulder, brows wiggling at him. “Caught your eyes?” He teased. “Pretty thing, isn’t she?”

“... Right?” Sirius said, voice coming out as a thoughtful whisper.

“Aw! Excitedly little puppy! You should have seen the way you were looking at her.”

Soon enough, a gust of wind flowed through the chill night, blowing past the mysterious woman and to Sirius, rendering him speechless.

The most delicious scent hit him like a wrecking ball.

The thick, sugary sweet scent of her blood caused that instantaneous ache in his throat to explode. The hollow yearning in his chest expanded — stomach twisted and turned, increased ten-folds as if he hadn’t just fed less than an hour ago.

There was an automatic tightening of his muscles, an excess flow of venom threatened to seep from his fangs.

Her blood sang, and he swore the song was for him.

Sirius could barely think; thoughts incoherent and irate.

Because fuck, what did she do to him?

Sirius watched her enter the pub, slipping behind the counter and began taking a dozen orders — completely immersed in her element. She charmed the customers, himself included, talked to a dozen men, a dozen women as a fit of burning jealousy flooded him.

Because that should be him.

The monster he’d beaten back with centuries of discipline sprang to the surface. It clawed and tore through his skin, bloodlust clouding any rational thought.

James had noticed the behavioural change, forcing him to sit back on the bench. Finding purchase on the metal handle, Sirius gripped it, denting it — nearly ripping it out of the wooden planks.

“Black!” James’ voice penetrated the thick fog.

It was punishing being that far away, to withstand something as sugary as her.

She smiled at a co-worker. Infectious.

He wanted her, needed her. Needed, needed, needed —

“What the fuck are you doing?” James tried again, prying his hands off the metal and shielding him from the passing crowd. “Are you good? We’re in public!”

He didn’t need to, but Sirius breathed in deeply, ragged, trying to calm down.

“Did you smell her blood?” Sirius asked.

“I — what? Who’s blood?”

He gestured to her.

James’ head tilted up, taking a deep breath, concentrating. “She’s healthy… really sweet. Young — probably mid-twenties? What about it?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. It’s — I — did you feel that too?”

His fangs popped out.

James snapped several times, even grabbing his face and tearing his gaze off her.

“Mate!” He exclaimed. Sirius’ eyes turned from a stormy grey to deep red. “Your eyes! And put your fucking fangs away!”

Sirius struggled to push James off as he tried to force himself down.

Never had he wanted someone’s blood so much since he had been rebirthed.

“Earth to Black! Did you not feed enough earlier? You were fine a moment ago.”

Want, need, want, want, need —

“I… I don’t know what’s happening to me,” he choked out, hands trembling. His fist squeezed into a tight ball, releasing several times. “She shocked me and I —”

It took James a second before relaxation dawned upon him. Smiling widely, he pulled back, clapping and hollering, catching the attention of a few bystanders.

“Blimey!” He yelled, shaking Sirius by the arms. “Do you think she’s your mate?”

The word bounced off the walls of his mushed brain, the idea not quite sinking in.

Sirius froze. Blinking. Not a single thought in his mind.

Could vampires go into shock?

“I can hear the wedding bells! Oh my God! You found her!” James cheered. “Do you know how rare this is? A vampire and a human! Lily’s going to have a field day! Wait — I better be best man — you were mine at our wedding! I can’t believe this! I’m so happy for you — shit. She invited you for a drink!” He sputtered, yanking Sirius up and pushing him in the direction of the pub. “Go talk to her — gonna think you ditched.”

Sirius blinked. Once, twice. Looked up at James. Horrified.

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

James softened, a gummy smile replacing his features as he strided up to throw an arm around him.

“It’s going to be an adjustment, especially getting used to resisting the blood. But it’ll be fine. You were both made for each other, will understand each other better than anyone else… My life started when I met Lily — I mean truly started, and it will for you too.” He hugged him tighter. “Now go, have fun, and meet me afterwards. I want to know how it goes.”

Sirius gulped, the nervousness dimming slightly. “Thank you.”

“Just be careful.”

On autopilot, Sirius stumbled into the pub, passing through the crowd. It was busy, filled with all sorts of characters and clashing personalities but drowned out by his curiosity. He brushed up accidentally against a few, but none felt the same as it did with her.

Sirius hurriedly sped up to the counter, stealing another man’s seat which earned him a flurry of crass words.

Surprise was written on her face when she eventually noticed him there.

“Good evening.”

“Hello again! I thought you weren’t coming,” she teased, guilt immediately hitting Sirius. “Did your friend hold you up?”

“Sorry about that.” Taking a deep inhale, Sirius had to stop himself from groaning, fangs nearly popping out from excitement. In such close proximity, where the wind wasn’t blowing or mixing with other scents, Sirius was already drunk on the aroma alone. “And yeah, it was something… personal.”

“Personal, huh? Hard night?”

“Something like that.”

“That’s what I’m here for!” They both chuckled. “So, what's your poison?”

You, his mind unhelpfully shouted. “What do you recommend?”

As she spoke, he hung onto every word and Sirius couldn’t help but be enchanted. His eyes often drifted to her neck, spotting the prominent vein that popped out and let himself imagine the heat of her fine skin under his fingertips, how the hot flow of her pulse would feel. How it would feel under his mouth. It burned his throat like acid.

He refocused once she finished, waiting for an answer.

“Right — scotch?”

She beamed, hands reaching out for various bottles. “Coming right up.”

Keeping a watchful gaze on her, she worked on multiple drinks, chatting with a dozen people at once but never as long as she did with him. A deep satisfaction blossomed.

“And here!” She exclaimed, sliding him the glass on the table. “Hope you like it.”

Sirius flashed a quick smile, his mind churning.

He remembered vaguely how alcohol tasted like, remembered he used to love it — used it to forget about his problems.

How mundane, simple the human mind and body was.

Shit… he couldn’t drink it and she waited eagerly for his approval.

Fuck it.

Sirius tipped it back, allowing the tasteless amber liquid to swish in his mouth but never swallowed it. He forced his Adam's apple to mimic the rest of the patrons, swallowing, bobbing and giving a deep hum in appreciation.

But it was worth it, seeing her light up.

“Hey! Ms!” A group of women raised their hands, hailing her.

“Talk to you soon,” she winked. “Don’t miss me too much.”

His stomach flipped.

When nobody was looking, he spit the liquid back into the glass, managing to pour the rest of the liquid into the sink just behind the counter.

Her hands wiped on her apron, finally resting on the edge of the counter, giving him her full attention. “Already finished?”

“S’great, thank you,” he replied. His hand flexed at his side.

Touch, touch, touch…

“Would you like another?”

Sirius’ glanced at the large clock on the wall. He had only been there for less than twenty minutes. Her shift would surely last a couple more hours, and he was far from willing to leave.

Inwardly, he sighed, but externally, grinned. “I’d appreciate it. A lot.”

“Sure thing, pretty boy!”

This time, she worked in front of him.

“So,” she mumbled, “What are you supposed to be?”

“Hm?”

A nod to his chest. “What’s that? Blood?”

Sirius froze, looking down at his shirt and recovered smoothly.

“Fake blood. I’m supposed to be a vampire.”

“A vampire? Want me to grab a wooden stake?”

“You’ll get the wooden stake and I’ll order a bloody mary next round.”

She giggled, Sirius relished in it.

Passing him the newly made drink, she leaned against the counter as he lifted the drink, lips barely touching the glass.

But as she tilted her head, giving Sirius the perfect view of the expanse of her neck, the scent hit him at full blast. He shifted back, too dangerous to linger there for too long. His nostrils flared, adrenaline and venom pumping through his veins.

For a second, Sirius had lost control and the cup shattered under his strength. It made multiple patrons jump.

“Fuck,” he rushed out, mostly from fear of startling her. “I’m sorry, I —”

She gasped, immediately cleaning the broken glass off the counter. “No, no! It’s not your fault. There must’ve been a chip or crack I didn’t see. Are you okay?”

“Got lucky,” he smiled, raising his hand and threw the rest of the glass into a bin. He fished out his wallet he kept on hand, sliding over twenty quid.

“I said it was on the house.”

“Consider it a tip then,” he insisted. “Or a replacement for the glass.”

She huffed, shaking her head with a tiny simper. “You’re impossible!”

“I prefer persistent.”

“You’ve convinced me.”

She was flagged down once more, a couple of other patrons waiting patiently for her to make rounds.

Moving to leave again, Sirius greedily wanted more. In an attempt, he reached over, grazing her hand and felt the warmth spread through him, wrapping him in a blanket of bliss.

Something he hadn’t felt in centuries.

He had met his soul mate, bound to them by an eternity. And whatever was left of his damaged soul, he would bare and give it fully to her.

“I’m sorry, but I didn't catch your name.”

“Shouldn’t I leave you guessing, wanting more?”

“I’m persistent, I’ll figure it out eventually.”

She giggled. “I’m Y/N.”

He smirked, liking the ring of it. “Well then, Y/N, can I get your number?”

Her head tilted down, a smile plastered on. “Well, what’s your name?”

“Sirius.”

“Well then, Sirius, of course.”

The next several months was a delicate process as the years of outdated etiquette and boring courting lessons were re-installed to the forefront of Sirius’ mind.

In the sly and artful practice of pursuit, he used the reinforced behaviours every chance he got.

Sirius forced himself to learn how to breathe and blink regularly again, finding himself mimicking humans that it became second nature to pretend. He became a regular patron to that pub in Soho to let her acclimate to him and then, the dates.

He hadn’t remembered a time when he was that nervous going on dates. Hell — the last time he went on a proper date was with another vampire a few decades ago and he certainly wasn’t as downright nervous.

The simple fact was: he didn’t want to fuck up.

He used to enjoy breaking rules, rejoiced in making rash decisions that somehow always ended up benefitting him. He never gave much thought, simply doing what he wanted and ready to tag along with James and Lily.

But he didn’t want to risk losing her. The thought alone was enough to send him spiralling.

The need to treat her right — to do something by the books for once was overpowering. Everything he did was with calculated precision because the one thing he wanted when it came to her, their relationship, was something normal — ordinarily human. It was the least he could do, offer her something close to human normality.

He was brave, vulnerable, won her the old-fashion way and did everything right. He bought her flowers, took her to the cinema, hugged her from the back, kissed her knuckles, made sure to open every door; pulled out seats and loved her reactions to the little gifts and letters he gave her. He made sure to carry everything he deemed too heavy, even if it was a book or two — letting her know that she was a vision; a mirror of Aphrodite.

He made sure to do everything he thought she deserved and then some. Convinced her with words dipping honey, coaxing her to him with the sweetest of whispers.

Love… he was willing to do anything for it. Maybe Sirius was more of a romantic than James was.

However scary, the time they shared was some of the most fulfilling times of his life. The only one who had ever and would ever afflict him with pining and yearning.

Everything he learned about her made him shiver in anticipation. To hold, to love, to bite — it was a deep, sickening desire. The witty comments, eyes lighting up with passion — the sheer intelligence and humour and ambition stored in a single person floored him. In every way, she was perfect, even with all the little flaws.

Sirius had already fallen in eternal love; freshly dissolved in a frozen devotion.

But her blood sang to him like a choir, calling and taunting him. These days, he had to hunt more, and kept hundreds of blood bags in his house. The building ache in his throat was unbearable, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to control himself, to not want to sink his fangs into her soft flesh and — no.

He took a deep breath, controlling himself.

Toying between the fine line of love and abuse was difficult. But where was the line drawn between someone mortal and immortal?

Sirius sighed, pulling out a white cylinder from a box and placing it between his teeth. Y/N peered up to him, smiling as she grabbed his lighter, cupping her hands around the cigarette and lit it for him. He sucked on it, blowing out puffs of grey smoke, before leaning down to kiss the side of her head.

It was utterly tasteless, entirely for aesthetic, but he liked to believe that a small part of his human self, if there was any resemblance left, would appreciate him for still indulging in it.

“Dinner was great,” she said, words slightly slurring together. She beamed up to him, her hand resting on his chest as they walked down the pavement.

Sirius had gotten lucky that night; managed to use the excuse that he was driving and it would be wise to be the designated driver. He managed to shove his food in his pockets too, only to excuse himself to the bathroom and threw the scraps to a few stray dogs in an alleyway.

“You never have to thank me, angel,” he smirked, pulling her closer. His hand reached down, patting her bum a little as she squealed. He barked out laughing, a spark of electricity shooting down his spine.

Of course, a loving hand was a far cry from sharp fangs, but he liked to think it was the same principle. A fleeting touch still meant possession.

Snow danced around, clinging onto their eyelashes as strung lights hung from buildings. Valentines day neared, pink and red hearts were drawn on signs. The sound of distant music played in the background.

“Wait, Sirius,” she murmured, stopping to admire the music as Sirius observed her quietly, watching her eyes glitter.

She spun around out of his grasp dramatically, outstretching her arm and fluttering her eyelashes. “Fancy a dance?”

He couldn’t help but be completely and utterly charmed. Quickly, he subbed out his cigarette, taking her hand and pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

But instead, she gasped. “You’re so cold!”

“It’s fine,” he casually played off. “I told you I have bad blood circulation.”

“Maybe we should go  —”

“Shh, I’m fine,” he chided. “Let’s dance.”

She wore a sparkly dress, just a glimpse was visible — hidden underneath her coat. Twisting with ease, sensual energy flowed, throwing flirtatious winks at him while flicking her hips. She pulled him close, dancing freely as he twirled her around before dipping her. She was a giggling mess in his arms, and Sirius wouldn’t have it any other way.

He stayed still for a moment, watching her dance with vibrant energy. Sirius pulled her close, swaying once the song switched, becoming of a slower tempo.

His head rested on hers, the hair tickling his nose. Taking a deep inhale, her scent turned his mind into a frenzy, mind dizzying and resolve weakening…

Despite his best intentions, Sirius was hungry… so hungry… and not just for blood. Fangs grazed the side of her ear, managing to nuzzle into her neck; just in perfect reach of a nice vein.

Bite, bite, bite, bite —

It was a testament to his will that he didn’t bite down then. She was so close, so warm, willing and inviting. Everything about her was suffocating him in the loveliest way possible.

Bite, bite, bite, bite —

He wanted her so badly that it hurt.

Bite, bite, bite, bite —

Sirius didn’t hear what she said, only felt the gentle shaking of his arm before she pulled away. He breathed out, carefully tucking his fangs back in.

“Oh! Hey, you. What are you doing here?”

The familiar deep baritone voice snapped Sirius out of his thoughts.

“Just running some errands,” Lupin said, his voice rough and strained — eyes trained on Sirius.

Fucking mutt.

He felt sick, utterly disgusted and revolted by the smell of wet dog.

“That reminds me,” Y/N blurted, hands gesturing between the two men. “Sirius, this is Remus. We’re…. good friends and used to work with each other.”

Swallowing his disgust at the newfound knowledge, Sirius forced himself to smile. “Is that so?”

“Mhm! And Remus, this is Sirius, my boyfriend.”

He glanced up to Remus who paled considerably; his face was dead and mouth smashed into a hard, flat line. His knuckles even turned white from how hard he fisted them by his side.

“Ah,” gritted Lupin. “Black and I know each other — acquaintances for the past few years now.”

“Really?” She questioned, smile somewhat faltering as she looked up to Sirius. Her hands, soft and warm, held his and the only thing that kept him rooted in reality.

“London isn’t so big after all,” Sirius gave a dry chuckle. “It was nice seeing you, Lupin, but we really should get going. Right, love?”

Her face scrunched slightly, weight shifting from foot to foot. “Yes, it’s getting cold now — but it was great seeing you, Remus.”

Being a vampire was hard enough. Being a vampire — a nice one at that — to a werewolf in front of your girlfriend? Even harder.

Lupin softened, figure becoming less tense and face softened at her. He ran his hands through his tousled brown hair, green hues sparkling at his name on her lips. “Goodnight, be safe.”

“You too,” Sirius added. “You never know what will be roaming out during midnight.”

They turned, walking in the direction of Sirius’ car until Lupin staggered forward, hand reaching out to, presumably to touch her.

Hunger was one thing he could control, but his fury was another beast entirely.

He wasn’t stupid — knew that look in Lupin’s eyes — saw how he looked at her. It was as if Sirius had looked into a mirror.

He managed to just graze her jacket as she turned around.

“Um… was there something you needed?” She asked.

“I -” his head shook. “Never mind, it’s nothing. I forgot.”

Sirius scowled as he processed his actions, turning his face and baring his fangs at the wolf in a hostile, triumphant smile. His hand slid around the span of her waist and pulled her close, away from that dog.

Sirius was a monster before a man, and it clawed inside him, scraping its long claws along the inside of his heart. Bitter and angry. It swelled, consuming every inch of his body in a fire that burned all logic and reason away.

With a jangle of his keys slipping from his pocket, a beeping sound echoed through the empty streets and unlocked his car. In a mild jealous daze, Sirius opened the door, waiting patiently for her to slip inside before closing it.

Sirius walked to the driver's seat, running a hand irritably through his hair as he looked up.

Lupin was there, still standing in the same spot, watching them carefully.

That dog… he was making sure he wasn’t going to hurt her.

Sirius opened the door and slammed it shut with a little too much force than necessary.

“You don’t always have to do that,” she muttered, turning up the heat dial and sighing once a gust of heat hit her.

Shrugging, he started the engine and pulled out onto the empty road, driving out of Lupin’s sight. “I know,” he whispered, mind reeling from their interaction. “But I want to.”

Good friends. What did that mean?

His stomach lurched, fingers twitching curling into a fist; irrational thoughts swarming him as his fingernails dug into his palm and would have drawn blood if he was human.

Had they — no.

No.

Because that was bloody absurd. Something dangerous flickered in his gut, simmering at the thought of anyone — let alone Lupin— being near her. Anyone but him.

Though the thought seared through him like a branding iron, like it always does.

He could have laughed! Remus fucking Lupin leaving his mark with dirty paw prints on things that didn’t belong to him.

She was his. He was hers.

Sirius was left simultaneously miserable and furious. His sweet angel was too trusting and willfully ignorant of the way Lupin looked at her. He wasn’t even trying to be discreet.

She was mine. Mine, mine, mine —

Distracted, she slipped her hand into his, thumb rubbing gently over his smooth skin to try and warm her up to the best of her abilities. She even raised his hand, pressing a kiss to it.

It made Sirius momentarily stop, calming down as he reminded himself to breathe. His heart still fluttered, love replacing anger as he eyed her, grinning as he moved to rest his hand on her leg.

It was amusing, even to him and the likes of James, how an undead being like Sirius Black could crumble to his knees for a mortal.

“So,” he coughed, wanting to know more. “How do you know Lupin?”

She turned rigid. That wasn’t a good sign.

“I — like I said, we worked together, became close.”

He gave a gentle squeeze on her inner thigh. “What are you not telling me, doll? I can tell you’re lying.”

With a shuddering exhale, “Promise you won’t… react?”

A pause. “Doll, there’s very little you could do that would make me mad.”

She refused to look him straight in the eye. “We went on a few dates.”

The words cut through him with the precision of bullets and Sirius felt gutted, hollow.

Anyone but him.

The knowledge burned him with ferocious rage, eating him alive. His nostrils flare as rage coursed through him. He feels like a volcano, ready to erupt, so overcome with jealousy, with proprietorial.

The grip on her thigh tightened.

“We’re only friends. I stopped seeing him the moment we went on our first date.”

That monster returned; spiteful and angry as Sirius’ head shook with bitter laughter.

“Please,” she began, gripping his arm. “Say something. It didn’t mean anything and Remus has moved on.”

How wrong she was.

“As you said, it doesn’t mean anything. We both dated in the past, as long as we’re the only ones, nobody else.”

“Of course,” she soothed, touching the rings on his fingers. “Just you, Sirius. Only you.”

His grip on his steering wheel was so tight that he dented it with ease before he let go, regaining his self-control.

Jealousy ate him up within, feasting on his mind and poisoning his soul with the creeping rejection that blared through his mind.

Because no, she was — no is his. His. Not Lupin’s. His.

The car eventually pulled outside her small house, engine clicking off as Sirius turned to her in the seat.

“I… you’re not… mad, are you?” She mumbled. “I probably should have said something…”

“I’m not mad,” he replied. At least not mad at her.

In a rush, fueled with a jealous rage, he cupped her face and closed the gap between them. Feeling the plushness of her lips, he kissed her with a bruising force and had to remind himself that she was his, she wasn’t going anywhere.

Lupin didn’t matter. It was a few dates.

Still, that didn’t stop the building need, hurt and pure possession that sent signals firing in his mind.

The best he could do in a car, Sirius pulled her flush against himself, inhaling her comforting scent and used more teeth than what was probably enjoyable.

It was intimate — the feeling of her moaning into the kiss, letting him bend her to his will — hands grabbing and roaming each of their bodies as they could reach: their shoulders, arms, neck, waist, anywhere. Everywhere.

His cock twitched in his pants as he buried his face into the crook of her neck, enjoying the satisfaction he got just from touch alone. Sirius loved being taller, bigger, stronger — loved slotting together perfectly and he just knows — just knows — that they’re meant to be.

Her hands found their way to slip underneath his coat, past his sweater, and trace the outline of his belt.

In an unguarded moment, Sirius decided to bite down quickly on her bottom lip. He poorly stifled a groan while the trickling of her blood seeped into his mouth as his entire body became slack. A terrible sense of euphoria washed over him.

Everything about her made him feel human, hooked on her flesh — dizzy, addicted to her.

Her skin boiled, her mouth opening in a wordless moan as goosebumps pricked her skin, shivering and balling his shirt at the sharp prickling sting.

Yes, his brain chorused. Yes, yes, yes.

Sucking on her bottom lip, Sirius pulled away with a shy smile, cheekily feigning innocence.

Kissing her sent him free.

She licked her lips, head tilting at the metallic tang but didn't question it, only breathing deeply and frazzled.

“Sirius —“

It was a plea — the desperate lilt in her voice going straight to his cock.

“Do you want to come inside?” She asked. “M-my house, I mean.”

He wanted her so desperately that it caused a physical ache in his lower abdomen. “Yes.”

He rushed out of the car, jogging up to her as the door clicked open the door.

One advantage that Sirius had gained as a vampire was his excellent night vision. His eyes automatically adjusted to the darkened room, allowing him to see her perfectly.

It was better that way, it would obscure his teeth.

Sirius tore her coat in the haste of struggling it off, attempting to cover up the loud sound by pushing her against the front door, closing it as they feverishly kissed, ravaging their mouths and leaving each other’s lips bitten and swollen.

She fisted his jacket, keeping him pressed against her. Sirius groaned into the kiss, tongue swiping at her’s until it felt as if he’d taken the breath straight from her.

And he should, shouldn’t he?

“Jump,” he muttered in between. In a swift motion, he managed to scoop her up, strolled into the bedroom and laid her down.

As expected, it was pitch black — save the moonlight trickling through the windows and spilling onto them.

Never had she felt so seen and loved, as though the heavens were an extension of Sirius’ sight. He was a self-indulgent love of external regard and fixation. She could see him, sense him with blindfolds if necessary, and she couldn’t escape.

Willingly, she surrendered to the tempest that consumed her whole.

And Sirius couldn’t help but give and give.

“I love seeing you like this,” he whispered, crawling on top of her and kissed her neck longingly. “All mine, right?”

His knee pressed right against her clothed core. Lifting her dress to her waist, his hands placed on her hips to help her grind on his thigh; a wet spot already slowly forming.

She nodded eagerly, already sucked into a daze. “Yours. Always yours.”

She withered under him and he wasn’t sure how long they spent kissing, savouring the sweetness; greedy and parched.

As he discarded their clothes, she grinded against his thigh on her own accord and Sirius’ mind blanked as he heard her pretty gasps and cries. He leveraged his weight on one arm, blinking down at her; chest heaving and glittery eyes barely open — mouth parted slightly and slick with spit.

“Want to?”

She nodded, gripping his arm.

But Sirius frowned, fingers reaching to caress her soft skin, watching her melt into his touch. “Use your words, tell me what you want.”

“You know what I want,” she whined, frustrated at his teasing. Not having it, Sirius pinched her thigh. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

“Please —”

“Please?” He chuckled. “You can do better than that.”

“I want you to fuck me,” she replied, a little embarrassed. “Want you to touch me, please — Sirius, touch me —“

In a daze, hands trembling, his venom suddenly felt like liquid fire coursing through his veins. The heat of her skin and warm breath fanned his skin, making him feel alive.

She was his. Born for him. Or maybe he was born for her. All he knew was that they were meant for each other; mind, body and soul.

“What was that?” He mocked, enjoying the way she shuddered under him. “Say that again; can’t understand a thing.”

“Please, I want to feel you,” she begged, helpless, desperation laced on her face as her hips bucked aimlessly. There was a wetness in her eyes that Sirius groaned at, wanting to drink up. For the first time, he felt as if everything had finally fallen into place; he had her right where he always wanted her.

“You’re so eager to be ruined,” he exhaled. Hand travelled down her chest until his thumb brushed over her nipples. She shivered, whimpering out shamelessly for the small relief it gave and how badly she ached between her legs. “Should see how desperate and pathetic you look.”

His tongue disappears against the flesh of her breast, purling around a puckered nipple through the sheer barrier of flimsy skin.

She was nearly in tears by the time his head popped up to look at her.

“Ah — Sirius, it feels so good.”

“Does it, doll?” He asked, licking over her abused nipple before shifting to rest his forehead against hers.

In a moment, Sirius slipped off his rings, grabbed her hands and slipped them onto hers. “Keep them on.”

Just as she was about to reach up and kiss him, Sirius sneaked his hand back down, pushing aside her soaked panties and slid his long fingers inside her. She gasped, eyes widened in surprise as Sirius muffled whines as their lips met.

He curled his fingers scissoring them, slowly increasing their pace every so often.

One of her hands shot down to grasp his arm, the other hooked into his hair. A silent plea of his name scarcely made out while Sirus’ mouth found her neck, biting, not enough to break skin, but enough to leave marks.

“Looks like you need more, huh?” He said. Her nods grow frantic.

Sirius pressed a kiss to her jaw, moving down until his face was between her legs, forcibly spreading them wide.

Curious, Sirius runs his knuckles over her slit, coating himself in her wetness. Her reaction was immediate, a soft moan filling the silence of her house.

He kissed her thighs slowly, fingers still proding in and out. He smiled against the soft skin when she shivered. He kissed her inner thigh, again and again as he gnawed on the soft skin without breaking skin to get her used to the pressure. A series of left small bite marks trailed across her body.

Covered by the darkness, the tips of his fangs poked out, grazing them across her skin, pricking it like a thousand needles.

When her head was tipped back, Sirius took the chance and bit her thigh, making sure to keep back the venom glands, his fangs broke the skin deeply and neither could contain the loud groan that erupted from their mouths.

And fuck.

A burst of warmth spreads through him at the taste, has him gasping, mind reeling and almost whimpering against her skin. Her blood tasted as rare and sweet as cherry wine. Never has he tasted anything so delicious, artful. Her blood is searing hot on his tongue, sending electrical currents to thrum throughout his entire body.

He melted into putty, almost becoming sedated from her blood.

She flinched, yelping from the sharp pain before it was quickly transmuted into bliss and moans as Sirius positioned his thumb to massage circles onto the swelled clit.

Sirius was gone, eyes rolled back to his skull as pure ecstasy consumed him whole. The ecstasy shoots through his veins, his continuous grunting and moans spilling out of him. He had found his own personal supplier of every drug the world counted for.

And he’ll be using her for the rest of his life.

It put him into such a state, that he subconsciously rolled his hips down on the bed for momentary relief —

He moaned again, continuing to drink greedily. He knew he was being messy, little droplets spilling onto her skin and bed, but he didn’t care. He couldn’t care, not when he felt one hand grip his shoulder, the other threading through his hair to pull him closer against her skin.

He was delirious.

With all his self-control, Sirius retracted his fangs, panting heavily as he watched the blood seep out from the two dots he created on her thigh. His mouth moved to her other thigh, biting down again, less invasive and took smaller gulps.

“Please,” came her voice, small and weak. Her thighs were slick, desperation burning through her.

He couldn’t deny her anything. Not then, not ever.

He settled himself in the middle of her legs, staring at the mess he’s left on her neck, chest and thighs. He made a note to bite her more later.

Slowly, he leaned down, cold tongue flat and gave a kitten lick to her slit — nose bumping her clit before finally wrapping his mouth around and began sucking on it hard — as his fingers returned to slowly pump into her.

Her reaction was immediate, strings of broken and helpless whimpers coaxing from her in an intoxicating ecstasy.

“Love your pussy,” he said against her core, building rhythm, savouring her taste and heat and weight.

Every time she clenched around his fingers, he found himself moaning — the vibrations sending jolts of pleasure through her. The moans and pretty sounds she let out only ignited the spark in Sirius’ brain, further pushing him to that wonderful, mind-blowing edge.

She’s at her breaking point, he just knows. Lucky, his jaw couldn’t ache and began to slow down, drawing everything out.

Eventually, trembling pillowy thigh wrapped around Sirius’ head as she was subjected to that maddeningly slow pace — her pleasure so drawn out that it was borderline painful.

She was hysterical, crying but Sirius ignored it, sadistically continuing with the pace.

It felt like ages passed, feeling imprisoned by Sirius pinning her down. The tips of his fingers would drag along her folds, slippery and smooth, as he pushed in, tongue sucking harshly against her clit. But when her body would naively indicate to Sirius that her building orgasm approached, he would pull away.

“Sirius!” She sobbed. “Please, let me come — stop moving away. Fuck —”

“Watch your mouth,” he threatened, stopping yet again.

He could make her come. He could. It was tempting to pull on her little strings and send her into a tear-stained climax, to watch her crumble — tears brimming in the corners of her eyes finally falling.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry —”

Happy with the response, Sirius finally gave in, tongue moving in fast circles, fingers moving in fast.

Her eyes wept when he touched her, holy, making her sigh his name similar to revellers would at the feet of God at his throne.

A wave crashed over her, warm and soft and her thoughts were filled with only Sirius, consumed by every inch of him. He left her feeling radiant, energized, every inch of her prickling with electricity and an inexplicable glow that bloomed in the nightl.

Though, the soothingness and high was short-lived as he didn’t stop.

“W-wait — Sirius — no, wait… it’s too muc —”

She cried out, her hips bucking, trying to shake out of Sirius’ grasp which pinned her to the bed. She choked out the vampire’s name in a whine, darting her hands to thread through the tunnel of his soft hair to yank him away.

“You sound so pretty,” he moans reverentially against her. His fangs lightly, teasingly graze every inch of her, sucking maddeningly on her puffy clit.

Her head flopped back and forth on the pillow as her eyes shut, kneeing; the coil in her stomach tightening… body curling… arching… spilling and falling…

The pleasure swallowed her whole, rendering her speechless as her moans turn muted, drowning in the overwhelming sensation that wrapped her whole. She heaved, chest rising and rapidly falling — blessedly numb.

He gave her pussy a few quick slaps, which had her whining before pushing himself back up, cradling her face in his hands and pressing a sweet kiss to her lips.

“What do you say, doll?”

“Thank you.”

Tiredly, her arm looped around Sirius’ neck, pulling him closer, tighter, as if he would suddenly vanish.

Like he could. He would beg her on his knees to stay, to be with him.

“Up here,” he said, her expression fucked out — fuzzy. When her gaze stayed stuck on his chest, he tilted her head up to stare at him. “Ah, ah — look into my eyes.”

That seemed to snap her out of it, her focus returning to him. Her head craned to try and kiss him, but Sirius leaned back at the last second — only for her to huff frustratedly, yanking and pulling him back.

Positioning himself to rub his cock between her folds, making her gasp and wiggle from the overstimulation.

“Please, p-please, need you so bad,” she sobbed, too lost in her pleasure to realize the effect and control she has on him, moans pitching higher and higher.

Effortlessly taking control of her body, playing her like a puppeteer with invisible threads, Sirius spread her legs wide as he pushed the tip of his cock in, pleased with her shamelessness.

Unable to wait any longer, Sirius fully pushed into her, driving his cock into her tight core. He groaned at the way she sucked him in, made just for him. She withered beneath, head thrown back as she adjusted to Sirius’ girth and length. In an incoherent mess, her body slagged into the bed as his cock was still snuggly fit into her greedy pussy that hugged him, arousal dripping.

If he were to grip on her hip too tightly, he surely would break a bone. Instead, he reached up to grip the headboard, splinters of wood flying off as he tried to regain his self-control.

She gulped down large pants like she couldn’t handle him and it only stroked his ego more.

Not so talkative now, huh.

But rather than feeling a sense of ease, that familiar jealousy returned to him full force.

Pulling out excruciatingly slow, only to pound right back into her, Sirius’ pace became brutal, cruel, even, but he wouldn’t apologize for it.

He looked into her doe eyes, hand trailing up and wrapping around her throat, brushing the skin. There’s a steady squelching sound mixed in with her little gasps.

Fucking Lupin. He wanted to erase every part of him that still lingered in her mind or skin.

“Now, repeat after me,” he demanded, squeezing the side of her throat a little harder as the jealous rage that simmered returned to the surface. “No one fucks you like I do.”

“N-no — ah! I —” her head lolled onto the pillows, voice jumping, pitching higher from his thrusts.

He hiked up her hips, grinding into her as he held her closer, dazed and stupefied. “Finish the sentence.”

“No o-ne fucks me like you do!”

Sirius hummed, using his free hand to pin her wrist above her head. “Your body belongs to me.”

He continued to mock the inaudible blabber of her while ruining her.

“I — oh fuck — Sirius please!”

“Say it or I’ll stop.”

“No p-please don’t — my body belongs to you!”

“You belong to me.”

“I belong to you! I’m y-ours, I’m yours,” she cried through broken sobs, pitifully grabbing at his arms to bring him closer. “It’ll always be you.”

Sirius’ heart soared, feeling his heart construct and being wrapped into a vulnerable blanket at her words. “That’s right doll, that’s right. All mine…” He moved his hips even harder.

His hands freed themselves, moving to wrap around her.

“I love you.” He said truthfully, eyes closing and kissing her like he wants to devour her, take her piece by piece. And maybe he does. Maybe he would. She drove him mindless, to the point of sanity and any reason. “I have crossed oceans to find you. I’d do anything… anything for you.”

The concept of love was a funny thing — new and abstract to Sirius. Never had he felt so exposed, seen, naked and stripped down beyond just skin.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Sirius’ eyes flew open, forcing his head up from where it had been resting on her forehead.

“What?” He slurred, thinking he might’ve accidentally misinterpreted her — might’ve been too drunk on blood.

“I l-love you too,” she said breathlessly, causing him to slow his pace down. “For a while now.”

He was designed to be the perfect, deadliest predator. To love a monster…

Someone might call what he felt for her sin, but love cannot be sin. It was innocent, sweet and gentle. There was no sweeter innocence than their gentle sin.

In that moment, she was everything.

She feels herself falling off that edge again — swarmed with a flurry of emotions and undiluted love that coursed through her in waves. A connection so strong, so palpable.

Teary-eyed, she desperately clung onto him, nails sinking into his back.

He simply smiled, wiping the tears away. “Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna come so badly.”

“Yeah? You’ve been so good for me,” he smiled gently, his thrust slow, her tightening around him tightly. “Let me take care of you now.”

But he hesitated as the large mirror positioned directly across the room caught his attention. Hositerling her up into his arms, Sirius forced her to kneel, her back laid and slugged onto his chest. He holds her tightly, keeping her from leaning forward.

“Watch closely, I want you to see just how beautiful you are,” he said, grabbing her face to direct her to the mirror. His hips rocked into her, “My precious angel.”

She focused on the mirror, almost entranced by the image - watching how his cock slipped out of her, ruthlessly fucking into her with a primal need, how he managed to mould her to him. He knows her, every little crevice of her body — knows them better than she does herself.

“I can’t h-hold it anymore,” she cried. Begging and whining, hands clawing at his arms. “Close — I can’t - please, please, w-wanna —“

“I got you, little one. Come for me,” he breathed, “Make a mess all over my cock, angel.”

Her eyes rolled back, coming hard and clenching so tightly around his cock that he saw stars.

Sirius’ mind was dizzy, senses overwhelmed from his cock slipping out of her, nearing his climax. His mouth hung open, eyes wrenched shut.

She was mindless, her heart racing, tripping over itself.

Sirius moaned loudly, lips finding their way to suck harshly against her nick as he took complete control - guiding her hips and prolonging her orgasm for as long as possible. His hand snaked down, rubbing fast circles on her clit as she gasped. His fangs dragged up the columns of her neck, threatening to sink in as his other hand braced her chest, keeping her flat against him while his fingers trailed to feel her heartbeat undertaker the fine skin as he flattened his palm to her heart.

He tuned into the increasing heartbeat, her flowing blood: warm and alive.

Thump-tha-thump. Thump-tha-thump —

Finally, his fangs pierced the jugular, a loud moan being ripped from her before Sirius removed his hand from her chest, shoving them in her mouth as she gagged around them. He drank greedily, watching her body jerk from his hard thrust — blood running down from her neck, to her shoulders and cascaded beautifully down her chest and covered her breast.

It painted her skin the most delicious colour.

He came right after, with her name ending in a loud moan, muffled from her neck. His eyes shut, thrusting faster as his cum spurts inside, slowly seeping out and running down her inner thigh.

Eventually, Sirius unclamps his jaw, sliding his fangs out. Beneath him, she gasped, eyes rolling back and almost completely unaware of what took place. He licks at the neat holes on the nape of her neck.

They heal over instantly.

Sirius slowly stops, panting heavily as he peered up back to the mirror, his hands running soothingly over her body as she shook within his embrace.

He was swarmed with emotions. A lost soul that managed to find its destiny within her.

“I love you,” he said again, slowly laying her down, pressing kisses to her entire body, voice deep and smooth. He licked off the trails of blood, making sure not to waste it. “How are you feeling?”

She smiled lazily. “Tired.”

“Sleep, love,” he whispered. “I’ll clean you up.”

With that, her eyes closed, enveloping her into a deep sleep in his comforting presence, head on his chest.

Sirius tuned into her heart beating, and he forced himself to breathe, both syncing in perfect rhythm — and he can pretend — just for a moment to live in their reality just for a little longer.

Sirius might not have a God, a saint, or any belief in a sanctuary that could save him, churches or crosses, but he believed in her. Believed in what they had. However Godless and unholy he may be, if she would let him, would have him, he would worship her. Forever.

S.B M.LIST | MARAUDERS M.LIST | MAIN M.POST

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[12pt-times-new-roman]

c3e34: for whom the bell tolls

oh god it's less than 4 hours — ~3h30m accounting for intro, ads, & recap

the fuckin' NordVPN ads are getting lore recaps now??

I mute these because my secondhand embarrassment goes off the charts but just watching it is enough of an experience I feel like

I..... hm. I'm definitely feeling some kind of way about what, if anything, the Bells Hells merch releases say about who's going to survive this episode.

//

WHO'S IT GONNA BE

ooooo everyone's at the table

"Fresh Cut Grass. In this pure, endless void of all color, you feel the psychic pulse opens a flood of memories... older memories. An endless cloudscape, a skyline of lavender spires, prismatic cobblestone streets, thousands of metallic beings cheering, celebrating. A dark room, a man you fear of short gray and blonde hair shouting, none of this imagery makes sound — but you know there's anger in his heart, the intent, the defiance... a kindly, older noblewoman. You like this woman. You grant her understanding — she smiles. She frowns. She is gone."

"Chetney. Within the endless light, you feel your very soul pried open, memories spilling forth, gentler times... Diana and her laugh, Freudel and her patience... within your belly, a hunger stirs. An itch hits your skin. An iron smell fills your nose, a howl pierces your ears, you look up to the full flowing red moon of Ruidus above you, from its ruddy light streaks a single beam of pure crimson light that envelops you. You let it wash away the sadness and you give in to the beast... it sees you now, and it's found common ground."

"Ashton. Enveloped in shadowless infinity, too bright to blink, you're a child. You were worried as others rush to finish something, you do not hear your elven father as he shouts orders excitedly. Your mother kisses your head, points ahead as the many people take their places around the vibrant glowing gateway. Your father places leather mask and headdress on his face... it begins."

"Laudna. Here beyond the edge of death, the light envelops you. You remember, soundlessly, the lush forests of the Parchwood, you remember the warmth of the fire under the hearth... dinner. An impossibly long, decadent table. Watchful guards, the dark lord and lady speaking wordlessly, the dread, her gaze meets yours. A gaze that never stops. You see her at the edge of your vision, always, her shape creeps beyond every blink and her words linger with her own. You fear you may lose yourself. Are you yourself? Or just her, incubating? I am of his blood. I will endure. My will is unrelenting. You are my vessel in life, unlife, and beyond. I will endure."

"Imogen. Your entire body and spirit shakes into energy, a cosmic mass of vibration and power. You feel your ody burn, unstable, wanting to explode, you wince and hold yourself with all your might. You're walking, toppling over a rock, a hand catches your clumsy form. You cry loudly, silently, as your eyes meet hers, her lavender hair tied up over her ears. Her smile calms your tears. She speaks to you, wordlessly, in your mind you know everything is alright. She looks concerned, her face snaps away into the distance, an intensity. You open your eyes and there in this vacant space, crackling before you, you see Otohan, staring back. Her body crackling with the same type of energy as yours. You are a true predator. A gift in their image. Few can be as strong as we can. To deny your nature is to be consumed by it. To embrace it is to master your own fate. I am proud of you. The voice of Liliana echoes in your mind — run, Imogen. Run."

"The bell tolls, and looms soon enough. Come, and create something beautiful with us. [I reach out and try to blast her.] She blinks away into the light darkness, and the white blinks out. The void envelops you. You hear the sound of a thousand, ten thousand stones and bricks hitting the ground. The wind hits your face, the sand as you come down to your feet. Looking around you, you stand in the streets of Bassuras once more. In the vicinity, where a number of buildings stood, most of them are gone. There is a circle of earth pushed away. And in that moment, your companions appear where they were, as they were."

ASJHGDKJSHDGFSKJLFJDLSKGH

MATTHEW MERCER

Natural 1 death saving throw on the Ruidus die.

That's it. Someone's dead. They don't have enough spell slots.

"I imagine it would be... confusion. Flashes of all the powerful women in her life. Imogen. Fearne. Her mother. Delilah."

"As the darkness carries you to whatever threshold lies beyond, as the dark curtain begins to fold in, you feel her arms wrap around you as Delilah embraces you from behind. Worry not, child. Death is but a waiting game."

Okay. FCG is getting Fearne up. Thank fucking god. We have a chance here.

The first two rolls of the episode were a 1 on a death save and then a 20 on a perception check. If that doesn't embody this entire sequence—

Imogen has the gnarlrock. She has the gnarlrock and Delilah is still in there. I swear to god if this is some kind of repeat of Laerryn gifting a spell slot to Quay—

Thank you, Travis, for the mental image of a revivify cockring.

oh my FUCKING god

FCG rolls a 7 + 3 WIS against a DC of 10.

She felt herself being pulled by the Unseelie who "were following [her] through mirror after mirror." Behind her, she sees a "dull green sliver of a moon, a blackened hills cape of tangled jungle and thorns, brambles and eyes, so many wicked hungry eyes waiting for you. And behind those eyes, darkness. Uncertainty. Cold oblivion." And Fearne's up.

"Can you call Jiana Hexum?" "Fuck Jiana Hexum!" "Call her, tell her I'll do anything. Tell her whatever she needs."

Liam just fuckin' chugging the rest of his coffee is such a mood

GNARLROCK TIME LET'S GO

"I know you're there you bitch, I know you still want her." The rock is on Laudna's chest.

Fearne doesn't have a diamond, but Ashton does. 18 seconds remain.

I hate this. I hate it. I HATE it. But it's so good.

12 seconds remain.

Sending to Delilah: "You better bring her back. I know you want to be in this world, and she's your only way here. Get your ass down here and bring her back!" Poor thing. I would if I could. But I ask you to bring her back too — for both of us.

The coin has spoken. (I'm not convinced that Fearne didn't lie about the coin flip.)

Fearne rolls a 13 + 4 against a DC of 10.

"Orym. The tension has passed, and a calm peace comes over you. There's this shadow, this looming darkness of regret and anxiety... it gives way to the sounds of the soft breeze of Zephrah. You feel a presence you've missed for a bit. As you turn from the shadow, amongst the various cherry blossom branches and the wind that blows in this soft dreamscape before you, you see Will. Just looking at you. And you want nothing more than to stay here. And in that moment in relinquishing to whatever the next life may be, you hear Fearne's words echo out from above. The soft dream begins to fade a moment and you glance up into a shaft of light. Her words call out to you, and you're torn. You look back down to Will who looks back to you, and his voice echoes, you're not done. [I really wish I could stay.] I'll still be here. [I miss you so bad.] There will be a time. I look forward to it. [Say hi to Derrig for me. Say hi to dad.] I will. He reaches out and embraces you. Like a hot spring that just envelops you, you feel the warmth and light of the connection you've missed for so long. Now, go. And he throws you up towards the light. As you drift upward, you watch the tree begin to fade, you see his face begin to fade, and you feel the sting of dust and sand against your cheek." And Orym's up.

Sprigg, the Vecna fights, Vax's mother, Scanlan, Molly, Caleb and Essek, Caleb at his parents' graves, Cad's divine intervention — nothing. But Orym got me, man. He got me.

To Joe's!

And to the break.

//

Liam: *pats Orym on the head* this halfling can fit so much survivor's guilt in him

Ohohohoho, Imahara has a secret cellar! It's a little storage space with raw materials, parts, tools, etc.

Man, the perception checks this episode have been on point.

....there's a hidden door in the basement that hasn't been opened in a very long time. Overgrown with roots.

Aaaaah. So Treshi hired Ira to create dangers in the city, which in turn was intended to spur the Quorum to hire the Paragon's Call. Ira came to him, but Treshi was getting pressure from Otohan to establish the Call in Jrusar.

23 intimidation from Orym!

Treshi was doing it to rise in the ranks of Jrusar's nobility structure, and if he did all the shipments successfully, Otohan would clear his name in Jrusar. The shipments were coming from Wildemount by way of the Menagerie Coast to the Osmit Sea to Jrusar, where Treshi took charge of getting them to Bassuras. So that shipment wasn't going to Jrusar — it had come from Jrusar, and was going to an external site.

Hexum held on to the Cerberus Assembly crates and the crates with the dunamis potions until it was time to ship them to Bassuras, to disrupt the chain and make it harder to trace.

It began slowly "years ago" and had been ramping up in recent years.

The secret door appears to be locked, but there's no overt nob, just a pull handle. Chet opens it with a 26, and there's a tunnel beyond that smells musty, like minerals. It reminds Chetney of the part in the Deathwish Run when they went into a cavern.

The crates labeled "Treshi" contain a whole bunch of dunamis potions.

The vials are roughly the same size and shape of the things inside Otohan's backpack. So these things are most likely advanced forms of the potions of possibility.

I love the fact that they've just..... collectively forgotten that Fearne has proficiency with thieves' tools.

.........oh. Matt's reaction to FCG mentioning that Percy and Vex might be able to bring Laudna back makes me absolutely certain that neither of them would hesitate for a moment to kill Laudna if they knew about Delilah. Especially when compared to his reaction to Orym mentioning Keyleth.

Hm. So Orym definitely knows that Keyleth can bring people back, and that it's not super expensive to her (500gp and a 5th level slot). Which begs the question— why wouldn't he ask her to bring Will back? Did something happen to Will that made that impossible, like with Evandrin?

Oh. Or maybe she did try and the ritual failed. The ritual that Orym would've been a primary contributor to. And that'd just add more grief and guilt.

Chetney literally crafting new thieves' tools out of wood scraps instead of disabling the trap is so on-brand

The box is opening

It's refined residuum. A precisely calculated and exact amount of refined residuum.

Keyleth has been working with Percy and Vex to make sure that residuum doesn't fall into the wrong hands, so the fact that it's here is very concerning to Orym. He also knows that it's used in the amplification of certain forms of arcana.

So, what? Is Otohan using this to create very specifically sized weavelenses? To amplify the effects of the potions of possibility? Or is this something like what Delilah was doing with Ioun's temples, trying to amplify a summoning ritual? And where the fuck is the Cerberus Assembly getting it from?

Okay, somebody remind me to come back to this later — but this residuum is an absolutely perfect allegory for the Bells Hells as a party, especially the way Matt described it.

Chetney did hard drugs in Hupperduke, canon

Holy fuck, another nat 20 perception check! Chet is on fire with these!

Identify on the gray liquid: "This is a potion of possibility. When you drink this potion, you gain two fragments of possibility, each of which looks like a tiny grey mote of energy that follows you around a foot away from you. Each fragment lasts for 8 hours or until used. [Mechanics are the same as the Fortune's Favor spell.]"

Sooooo potions of possibility + residuum = whatever Otohan had going on? Yeah?

The crate they got has 6 more potions, so they have a total of 8.

FCG has never encountered dunamancy before — the vials don't fit into any established school of magic, it sort of sits and drifts outside the standard schools.

Oooooh. Imogen didn't have a dream about Laudna walking into the storm. And she "feels a buzz lingering that doesn't quite subside, like the faintest of butterflies that continues to turn in your stomach." Bro. Matt remotely added a feat to her D&D Beyond profile.

Now that is super interesting. That means that every single one of these people has a chance to gain additional feats through "fateful moments" (which Matt details in EGtW) that happen during the course of the campaign. That's super fucking cool. I bet it's a homebrew, because she already has telekinetic and telepathic wouldn't make sense (she already gets very similar abilities from her class), but also, mystic conflux or spell driver could be really cool.

Oh my god that's amazing, FCG built a toolbox for Chetney and Sam actually bought (/made?) one to give to Travis adkjfhsglsdjl

In that memory, Ashton's father's vestments for whatever ritual that was is exactly the same as the Hishari armor they found in the Twilight Mirror Museum. The headpiece looks slightly damaged.

"shari" is a suffix with roots in a word pertaining to general elementalism. The root could pre-date the Calamity, or it could be derived from the Gau Drashari name.

In Zephrah, the Hishari village is used as a tale to spook people from toying with the elements when they don't know what they're doing. It was a village of people who delved into things that they didn't understand and couldn't control. "What the Hishari village did was reckless, and they paid for it." Ashton was too young to remember what happened on that day, but they watched "everything go, everything rip apart... wind and light and people flinging through the air, cracking, breaking. I woke up wandering the dead lands outside the city [Bassuras], and they put me in the Greymoore home."

Which means that the Hishari village was somewhere in the Hellcatch Valley close to Bassuras — e.g. there is potentially a massive elemental rift in the Hellcatch, where a leyline nexus may be moving, and where the Paragon's Call might be shipping construction materials, residuum, and dunamis potions to.

"Power is power. What you do with it is up to you. We're gonna leave, we're gonna lick our wounds, but you've got us. Let's just get our of here and help her."

Somebody get FCG a component pouch please

"You focus on her body, her corpse, whatever earthly connection remains with the absconded spirit. You complete the ritual and there's a flash of orange light around her, and none of you pick it up, but you do: a weird sense that the spell definitely headed something off at the pass, and now she rests for the next 10 days."

o h n o.

I can't tell if that means her body would decompose faster than normal to a point where raise dead wouldn't work due to her being a Hollow One, or if Delilah was slowly trying to take over her body slowly. Either way, gives a completely different meaning to "death is a waiting game."

That thing is definitely going to be attached to the front of the flask/can next week

[jerry-hornes-foot]

✨️ Halloween Special ✨️

better late than never lol

1254 words

18+ only

Smut

Steve Harrington x Satan

Tags: monster fucker; dead dove; medieval au; witch!steve; sub!steve; swx magic; spells; transformation; lucifer!devil; goat!devil; dom!devil; knife play (cutting flesh); blood; no refactory period; no lube; no prep; no aftercare; mild knotting; size kink; ownership; familiars; religious imagery; anal sex; unprotected sex; outdoor sex; pain; multiple orgasms; references to reader character but no proper x reader content

This is an expansion of a story I wrote about witch!steve for Halloween last year that I have literally been thinking about ever since so I hope someone gets some enjoyment from it!

Note for the boffins: yes I know lucifer and the devil are two different people, but lucifer is hot and it's widely accepted he's satan anyway so in this they're the same guy lmao its a story where Steve somehow exists in medieval Scotland but is still called Steve and has an American accent, accuracy wasn't really my goal in this story about Steve getting raw dogged by the devil lmao

Anyway thank you for your time, please enjoy the filth :)

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

The air in the kirkyard is cold and still. Despite the lack of wind, the chill still has a bite that would leave the roughest of faces stinging. In spite of the cold, Steve's skin feels warm. He's already stripped from his clothes, ready for the wicked dance. Although he's not bothered with a bonfire tonight, he can feel its heat there. A slight breeze rustles the leaves of the oak trees. In the dark, still night, he can sense them, his new pet, tracking their way through the mud to find him. He makes no sound. He doesn't need to. Even in silence, he calls to them in a voice so sweet it would make a hummingbird sick.

There's a disturbance somewhere in the kirkyard. It's slight, a barely noticeable shift in the atmosphere of the place. The presence, whatever it may be, feels too strong to be brought by powries or other wee folk that roam amongst the headstones seeking mischief. Steve's body turns sharply at the sudden sound of two crows taking flight from the roof of the kirk. His eyes drop, and he discovers directly in front of him, a man standing where there had not been a man before.

The man is stunningly beautiful, almost beyond what words could describe. He is naked, as Steve is, his powerful athletic body on full display. Even with the clouds covering the moon, he seems to glow. The features of his face are so carefully chiselled it seems as though he must have been carved from marble by God himself. A mass of thick brown curls rest on his head, perfect ringlets hanging down and framing his beautiful oil painting face. From his back, two huge, black wings protrude, towering above him and making him appear even larger.

If Steve were blind he would know Auld Nick on sight. He would drop to his knees were he not so paralysed by awe. His mouth falls open in preparation to pour praise upon his master, to beg forgiveness for even looking upon this most beautiful form, to plead for him to let them dance together around the fire. He is cut off by a soft hand on his chin, gently pushing his mouth closed. There is a feeling of magik so strong here that it makes every hair on Steve's body stand on end.

Steve's entire body tingles as he feels the man move behind him, soft hands disappearing from Steve's face and reappearing on his stomach. The two of them are pressed tightly together, embracing in the dark silence of the kirkyard, which shatters as Steve moans loudly at the feeling of warm lips against his neck. Lucifer's cock, huge and slick, presses up against Steve's back and makes his heart beat in his ears. A long, pointed tongue runs up the outside of Steve's ear and makes him shiver.

Steve let's out a long, low howl as the devil's cock slips into his tight hole. It somehow feels even bigger than before as it pushes into him and yet somehow, without having prepared, it slips inside effortlessly as though it was meant to be there. Steve's eyes roll back, relaxing his weight into the body behind him as the monstrous length glides back and forth against his insides, pushing up into his prostate with every firm thrust and making him groan. As they fuck, Steve can feel the body behind him changing.

As their bodies shift, muscles rippling and tensing as they embrace, Steve can feel the strong legs beneath him extending. Thick, waxy fur sprouts upwards, tickling the backs of his thighs. He can hear the soft click of cloven hooves against the tombstone at his feet as the powerful caprine legs tense, holding Steve's weight and bucking up into his body. Around his waist, he can feel fingers growing long and thin. Looking down, he can see two deep red hands, with thick, jet black talons protruding from their fingertips. He moans again, rich purrs flowing from his throat as he feels soft barbs growing from the head of the already enormous cock that's pumping back and forth inside of him. It hurts, in a way that feels so good Steve's own cock twitches involuntarily.

There's a hot, searing pain across his chest as one sharp talon tears at his skin. Tremors race down his thighs as the agony transforms to pleasure in his mind. One strong arm tenses its grip around Steve's waist, as the other continues to carve a complex symbol into Steve's skin. Warmth spreads over his torso as thick trails of blood pour from his chest, down onto his stomach. The design is intricate, made up of long intersecting lines and ancient runes which the people of the village wouldn't have dared to even lay eyes on. Once it's work is completed the creature brings its open hand down against the symbol, pressing its palm hard against Steve's chest.

Instantly Steve is overcome with the most intense orgasm he has ever experienced. Cum sprays from his body like a fountain, stomach clenching as every atom in his body vibrates. His vision blurs for a moment with the sudden force, the overwhelming sensation nearly causing him to black out. As he regains his senses, as much as his cockdrunk mind is able, he realises he's still hard, and that the intense pleasure of the cock fucking into his still-tight hole is still racing hot through his veins. He cums again, somehow even harder this time, eyes crossing and spit dribbling onto his chin as his tongue hangs loose from his mouth.

The devil shifts its weight, dropping Steve's limp body into the grass, holding his legs like a wheelbarrow and fucking him harder and deeper. Steve cums one final time, feeling the life drain from his body as he does, then sudden energy racing through him as though he has been reborn. He feels fingers in his hair, roughly grabbing and tugging his head back. He's not sure when it happened but the body behind him is different again, that chiselled angelic form returned as if it was never gone. Soft lips brush against Steve's neck, and a dark, poisonous voice drips into Steve's ear,

"What's a good boy for me, bringing a new pet to play with. Bring them to me, and you will be rewarded."

Steve rolls onto his back, surprised to discover his wounds have vanished and his body is clean, as though the events of the last few minutes had been a dream. Except he knows it was real, he can still feel his head rushing and skin pricking, the ghosts of his orgasm still hovering around his body. Looking up Steve can see them wandering glassy eyed through the kirkyard, his new familiar drawn to him like a moth to a flame. They are alone, as he had hoped, and stripped down to only their underclothes. A little overdressed for the occasion, but he would soon fix that.

The devil vanishes wordlessly into the night in a whirl of black feathers. Steve's heart flutters, still a little overcome with awe at what he has just experienced. Getting to his feet he composes himself, focusing on the task at hand. The sight of this new pet up close is the only reminder he needs. Lifting his hand he cups their face softly, brushing his thumb over their lips and smiling sweetly,

“I knew you’d come.” He whispers. “You can’t resist, can you?”

[n0tamused]

Here For You

Tobirama x F. Reader

Genre: angst to fluff

Word count: 3,639

Warnings: nightmares, description of gore

"-They should be headed north now" Y/N spoke to the old woman that sat at the dining table who nodded in relief, head heavy and limbs aching but they all were now safe. The walls were gray and cracked from years of neglect, and the small clans house seemed to be moving in the breeze like thin branches of the oak tree that stood outside. It wasn't until a hoard was heard approaching, surrounding the perimeter of the house. Swords hissing as they were pulled out of their sheaths. Y/n stood frozen for a moment in front of the open door, watching the leader approaching, shrouded in darkness of the upcoming night, the shadows making his expression all the more sinister. Before long Y/n flung forward and slammed the door shut with all force in her body. The house spun and twisted, grotesque imagery surfacing from the walls that now felt like paper. Thin and rough faces screamed at her from behind the walls that framed their features. Mouths wide open, moaning and groaning. Then it all started to spiral out of control. The banging, screaming and shouting and pleading. All of it rang so far it reached the heavens above but no one came to their aid.

Realization came when they were all captured and forced to kneel before the enemy team- she had led her own team out of one certain death and into a slaughterhouse. She had let them all down, she failed them. Desperation and fear tugged and squeezed at her lungs and throat like a giant's hand. It felt as if each muscle was strained and simultaneously crushed as her captors seized her on each side by the arms. Watching her friends die by the blade. They were made to stand in front of her and then, with one swift stroke the sword was pushed through their jugular, making blood run freely into their throat, mouth and lungs. The blade was drenched to the hilt. Splatter of their blood stained Y/n's pale and cold cheeks, eyes wide with terror. She struggled to escape the hold but to no avail, all her power had been drained right out of her and wounds littered her body and made any attempt to move futile. Pain coursed through her body like a fire set ablaze to run wild.

But none of it could compare to the pain in her heart and mind. None of it came close. She wanted to shout and scream, to struggle and fight but that proverbial hand held her hostage until half of her team had been slaughtered. The bodies fell, continued to twitch and continued to be mutilated even after they had already died. Blood oozed and coated the ground, slowly slithering towards where she sat like a snake, before forming into a puddle around her. Guts laid scattered across the yard all around her, bringing a rancid stench to billow and blow all around. Adrenaline still coursed through her and finally it was her turn to stand and come before the bodies. They made her look at them, all their pale faces. Twisted and cut up, stained and blotched with blood of their own. Missing limbs were thrown onto the pile of death; whose, she didn't even know anymore. Smell of metal and decomposition was enough to make her insides twist in on each other and make her want to disappear. And she broke free, desperately clawing to escape, and behind her stood all the dead comrades, dark silhouettes with gaping white eyes and hanging mouths. Furthermore twisted and wrecked. It stopped Y/n from going further, fear seeping into her bones just as much as shame. She betrayed them- she failed them.

From the back she was dragged to the pile of death, her body twitching and pulling and struggling but none of it worked. Cries resonated through the trees in an echo, high pitched screams of despair. The long sword was slicked with blood, blade dull from cutting through so much flesh. The leader chuckled menacingly, but there was no sign of a smirk or even a mouth on his face which a shadow resided on. Black mass settled in the place where his eyes were, and for all Y/n knew he could have no mouth at all. He spoke- however she didn't hear his words, as if her head was pushed under in a bucket of water. She couldn't breathe nor decipher his words. The invisible giant's hand was squeezing more now, she could feel herself turning blue. Screams started again, picking up volume and intensity until it was all she could hear, ringing through her ears. It made her want to vomit.

The sword rose up. The blood riding down the length of the blade before it was sent flying through the air-

She woke with a startle, a small flinch throughout her entire body. The screams of her dreams now replaced by the hooting of an owl far away, the gentle but cold draft came through the open window and left gooseflesh in its wake. For a while the woman failed to move, believing if she moved or even closed her eyes she would be back at the pile of dead bodies. All senses slowly returned to her as the drunkenness of being asleep washed away. Taking deep breaths she felt her heart still racing, moving her hand to settle over the left side of her chest, feeling a fine sheen of cold sweat over her flaming skin.

Suddenly, tears sprouted in her eyes, stinging and clawing their way out before they freely slid down her flushed cheeks. Silently the few tears fell before she gathered the strength to sit up and push the covers off of her, sliding her body to the edge of the bed until her legs bent and reached the floor. Another moment of pause. Y/n felt her head swimming, still not fully recovered from the horrors her subconscious conjured. Finally Kaliyah stood on her legs that felt unsteady, tiptoeing around her still-sleeping husband. The halls were still dark, cold with the dawn slowly approaching and breaching the darkness. Only enough for her to see where she was stepping. Nimble fingers curled around the door to the front porch, gently tugging the door to open and only enough for her body to slip through before closing them again.

The cold immediately clung onto her, making her fold her arms over her chest in a self hug, attempting to contain the warmth she dragged from her bed. She took a few steps before she stopped at the top of the small steps which lead to a garden, a small paved path leading elsewhere, to the exit from the house yard. Looking up at the sky she saw the morning blue color paint the sky, with pale golden hues shining through the few scattered clouds that passed overhead. The night before she remembered the sky was littered with so many shiny specks of light, glowing bright on the canvas of dark navy blue. Not a cloud in sight and with the moon looking down onto them all- she only wondered what she did for the moon to let such horrific imagery pollute her sleep.

Coming to sit down onto the steps she let the cold seep into her muscle and bones. Feeling the rough and coarse texture of the wood beneath her, and next to her when she leaned onto a pillar which she sat next to. The cold grounded her there, bringing her back to reality. Wind brushed through her hair gently, like invisible hands, soothing her wrecked nerves and bringing comfort. Her line of vision then moved down, to the garden below. Remembering the time she and Tobirama were working on those gardens; planting the shrubs and rose bushes as well as many other kinds of flowers. All of what they planted grew swiftly, it all came to a full fruition as now a great cherry tree brough shade to the yard and rose bushes decorated the space next to the fences in full blossom. Red and pale pink, some even white in color. Large petals that would come to form a blanket over the grass once fall came in place.

In the bedroom, Tobirama stirred when she left, having already been half-awake when she too, woke. Believing she were only up for refreshment he didn't give much thought or effort in focusing on that - he didn't hear the small sniffle through his sleep dazed head. But as he didnt hear the faint sound of running water, or her footsteps retreating, his brows knit together and his mind worked on pushing the sleep away. The spot she once laid in was now cold. Pushing himself to sit he looked over to the spot, crinkled covers and sheets, and faint dark spots across the pillowcase. It didn't take a genius in Tobirama to understand what was happening. Nights like these were rare, but certainly nothing new to either him or his beloved.

Infusing his chakra he spread his sensory field throughout the house, slowly pelting over the areas. As he didn't find her in the house his heart leapt into his throat, before finally he sensed her on the porch. He was already moving out of the bedroom by that moment, sensing how her own chakra twisted and turned as if trying to find an offending thorn in the system. Tobirama creaked the door open, pausing for a moment when he saw her curled up figure on the steps. A frown tugged at the corners of his lips as his stare sat at the back of her head, then he was moving again, resuming his original slow and careful pace. He came up beside her, looking down at her and when she finally took note of his presence her eyes moved to meet his eyes.

Scarlet irises glared down at her with such softness and concern in them.

In a form of shame, guilty of waking him up, she cast her look down, bowing her head before returning her gaze to the garden that now looked too much like the yard from her dreams. Tobirama noticed the churn of emotion, eyes barely leaving her expression, only for a moment to follow her line of sight. The Senju sighed, watching the leaves sway in the early morning breeze.

He came to sit at her side, moving one arm to wrap around her shoulders slowly, and bring her closer into his warmth. It radiated off of him in waves, while her own warmth had worn off in the first few moments of sitting on the cold porch. She simply leaned into him, closing her eyes for a long moment, fighting off the frown and the images behind the curtains of her eyelids. Tobirama was at a loss of words, knowing how much physical affection meant for her comfort after such a dream - he didn't want to disturb this little peace he had provided then. It started to build up slowly. First with his arm wrapping around her, then when he added his other hand to stroke through her hair, tracing circles and moving through her locks.

Soon enough Y/n was completely engulfed by his embrace. Her own arms held around his torso, hanging on tight as a few stray tears ran down her cheeks.

"Y/n.." spoke Tobirama. His voice wasn't his usual baritone one, but instead it was so much more quiet, it was much softer, warm with care and love he carried for the woman in his arms. She swallowed the lump in her throat and lifted her head up, enough to meet his eyes once more. Puffy red skin surrounded her beautiful eyes, another tear taking shape already.

Tobirama exhaled through his nose, one of his open palms moving to cup her cheeks. His thumb moved back and forth with such care that it seemed as if he feared he would break her. His calloused hand held her like that, prompting her to move back slightly and let him just hold her and take a better look. His touch alone made warmth blossom over her cold skin, sending her blood circulating as her heart picked up pace.

His thumb caressed her cheek more, wiping away the tears that slid down. Before long his other hand detached itself from her waist and came to rest at the other side of her face; her own hands coming to wrap around his wrists, closing her eyes and basking in the pure solace she found in his hold. Her wet lashes touched her cheeks, fluttering ever so slightly and Tobirama watched, tilting his head to the side before leaning in. Pressing his lips against the crown of her head and holding himself there for a moment. Once he pulled away he searched for her eyes again, only to find them still closed. But the tiniest signs of a smile painted her features, it felt like color and warmth was seeping back into her.

Tobirama raised a brow when Y/n chuckled suddenly, burying her face in his open palms and hiding her abashed expression.

"What- Y/n?" Tobirama wanted to ask what was happening, confused at the sudden change of moods but he bid himself to stay quiet, a chuckle of his own interrupting his flow of thoughts. "What is it?" he opted to ask, searching for her eyes like that would give him an answer to his question.

"It's nothing, nothing at all." she responded, avoiding his gaze at first, but as the silence dragged on she was forced to look up and get captured in the eyes she loved so much.

"Well.... it's just you. You have this ability to be so sweet, and without uttering a single word." she explained herself, soft tone of voice carrying her words like a feather carried by the wind. Her voice was always a lullaby, a song, a melody to Tobirama's ears; her nimble fingers curled around his hands and brought them down from her face. And now her voice was still something so beautiful, now was no exception, and his smile was urged to spread further more at her words. And she continued- "And who would think a man so grumpy, such as yourself, would be comforting his beloved on a cold morning because of a bad dream-"

Tobirama shook his head at that, smile still ever-present on his lips.

"You have to learn to share your burdens with me, and not to hide them away and try to change the subject" he began, placing another chaste kiss on her forehead, at which she still leaned into. The troubles of her dreams would not be easily forgotten, especially not with a simple remark as she had just made. Still, Tobirama knew the limits, if he so much as saw a hint of hesitation he would stop his prying. But he knew the importance of sharing things such as these. Everyone has their limits and he would rather avoid what comes after the said limits have been surpassed. He himself suffered nightmares of his own, so he was no stranger to the heaviness they brought onto oneself.

"Let's get back inside first." He offered, said, as she stood up with one of her hands in his, bringing her up with him. She only nodded, looking at the garden for the final time before turning around with him. She moved languidly, moving into Tobirama in a subtle asking for his warmth again, which he immediately shared. Pulling her into his side once more, his arm draped around her waist as he led them both inside into the vast living room space. Morning was now quick approaching, and it would be no time until both of them had to leave for their own business. Tobirama wished they spend that time in peace and comfort.

The white haired Senju sat her down on the plush pillows at the table, guiding her carefully and gently, a hand on her shoulder before it retreated so he could stand up.

"I'll make us some tea." he announced, earning a guffawed look from his lover. With her neck craned slightly her eyes set upon his face she was met with the most gentle smile. Then he was off, disappearing into the kitchen ahead. From where she sat she could see him move about, fetching whatever he needed from the shelves.

The air was filled with gentle clicks of porcelain cups and soon the water boiling. Steam swirled in and slithered against the walls; white, thin and wispy. It moved like a snake, before being sucked out through a window that Tobirama opened, disturbing the dance of the steam. A subtle smell of mint and chamomile wafted in the air when the dry tea leaves were dropped into the boiling water, painting it a shade of honey yellow tinted with a deep green. The cool air still circulated throughout the home, now no longer as intruding as it was on the front porch but rather comforting when it began to mix with the heat inside.

Once the tea had been sat in front of the woman, her nimble fingers came to wrap around the small cup to lift it up to her lips. She paused, letting the smell come up to her nostrils before exhaling with a smile. Eyes came to close as she basked in the comforts of it. Tobirama sat beside her, nursing his own cup of tea, carefully as to not burn himself. The hot liquid was a salvation, it brought her to an ease instantly and gave her the relief of an empty mind. She had finally felt her heart settle back in her chest, the hum of her natural heartbeat returning. Even as they drank in silence, Y/n could feel the gaze of her husband as he looked over her features ,observing her every now and then, looking for any further signs of distress. And when he failed to find it he went back into his own mind, back to his own tea in hand. The silence went on undisturbed until the cups had been emptied completely. The sun now higher over the mountain that shielded the growing village.

Y/n took the utensils and the cups on the tray again, and disappeared in the kitchen to clean them. The water from the sink poured out cold and it splashed across her hands. It made her throat bob with a pang of anxiety that came out of the blue. Blood of her comrades, cold in her hellish dream. Yet she didn't stop, the thoughts only made her haste her task, and swiftly after she had been drying off the cups and placing them back on their shelves. The wave of disquiet went away, like it was never there in the first place. And Y/n went to retreat into the bedroom to change out of her own sleep clothes.

Tobirama was already inside, pulling over his work clothes just as she stepped in. He would have to take his leave very soon; it brought a sad smile to paint her features. She wished they could prolong their tranquil mornings.

Coming towards him he turned around in time for her to snake her arms around him, pressing her head against his shoulder. His arms came to envelope her, his warmth spreading across her entire body now, and his head came to lean against her. Her breath was gentle as she listened to his heart beat steadily.

"If.. if it would be of help, you could always tell me about your dreams. Don't hide yourself away from me.." said the gentle but gravelly voice of Tobirama; he treaded carefully, unsure of how exactly to word his thoughts. It was plagued with concern, he wanted nothing but to make dreams like this never happen again.

The woman in his arms nodded, eyes closed as she enjoyed the comforts of his embrace. Her hands went loose around his waist now, as tranquility overcame her once again.

"I know... I'm not hiding anything" she replied softly, nudging his head ever so slightly as to poke his neck with her nose. "It could have been worse.. but I promise to tell you when you get back, we don't want you running late" a sharp smile tugged at the corners of her lips and Tobirama seemed to feel it, as a smile of his own crept up his features.

"No, we don't want that '' he agreed, placing a quick kiss on top of her head, rubbing her back before he pulled away to gather his things.

Tobirama walked out to the front porch, his wife right behind him to say their goodbyes. He was going on a mission that day, and the night before both of them shared their time by cleaning off his armor, chatting. Now, Y/n took one more look at his armor, her fingers making a quick brush through his furred collar.

"Now you're all ready to go. Be sure to stay safe, don't be reckless" Tobirama huffed out a chuckle at her words, turning to face her fully with mirth in his eyes. She gleamed at him innocently, grinning before he brought her into a kiss. A quick one for their farewell, a silent promise of return lingering on his lips.

"I will, and you take care of yourself. '' And off he went, striding underneath the long and dark branches, and out of the yard. Fallen leaves blew and flew in the wind, as if following after him in their own silent good-luck bidding. A crow flew overhead, cawing while doing so before disappearing in the far horizon of blue.

-----------

My Ao3

[greyskyflowers]

Magical realism and religious imagery are some of my favorite things to read about. I feel like it adds that layer of magic and wonder to stories. Not to mention it always reads like poetry to me. So have some of my magical realism and religious imagery one piece ~

Luffy

I like the idea that Luffy steps on ground that adores him. The earth shivering with each step, teasing the sea that it can touch while she can't. The shore pushes sand against his skin and the water whispers to him that he need only ask and she'll make way for him. The waves pull apart and a path is available but never taken. Everything taken from him is heavy, his cloak pulls the shoulders down and is made of something more than fabric. His hat is heavy with intention and blessings. Something old and great and sacred layered in it. They give him food and praise and gold. It doesn't feel like enough. They think of old blood offerings and fire light constantly to show devotion. They call him king even though he has no crown and the sun follows him like a lover.

Zoro

I like the idea of everything Zoro touches becoming more. Alcohol is aged and fine, blood is brighter, food is richer. Wine settles in his glass, thick and dark like blood. He is joy and good times and the wrath that comes with it. He fights like Cerberus, protective and fierce, nipping at the heels of the damned. Three swords, three earrings, three faces that look back at him in the mirror. His earrings carry like wind chimes made of bone, calling spirits and promising home. They bicker with the swords at his hips in languages he doesn't understand but also does, it makes his head hurt and a horrible growl start in his chest. Times slips past him and it all feels familiar. How old is he?

Nami

I like the idea of Nami having lichtenstein marks on her skin, flashing in bursts like lightning before vanishing. Different parts of her skin lit up like a trapped storm. How she picks clouds like wild flowers, finding the fullest and whitest ones to keep in a jar. The clouds always seeming fuller over her, other worlds tucked away in the vastness. Gold glinting in her hand even though there's no sunlight to catch it, the glow eye catching in its beauty. She smiles with sharp teeth everytime she makes a bet and a her hair makes shadows like fox ears and a trickster tail flicks behind her. A bag at her hip that never ends. She can crawl in it and the walls stretching on forever are covered in sketches of places she's been. Clouds float by from broken jars and drift up up up... unfinished maps and broken pens and bottles of ink, gold and jewels and treasure are strewn on the floor.

Usopp

I like to think of Usopp with strings and threads. Weaving stories that make Arachne jealous and pulling strings like the fates. He points at constellations that move through the sky, taking shapes and dancing like they're listening to a heavenly waltz. He leaves small toys around the Sunny for the spirits that join them briefly island to island. A small hand clutching at his shirt as he paints a carved figure wearing a raincoat. He's every story passed down by word of mouth or told around a fire, centuries of imagination that speak in his ear. He shots his target like a hunter and his bow, an arrow notched in a cresent moon and shot like a shooting star.

Sanji

I like the idea of Sanji making a handful of things last whole meals. A cup of flour makes enough bread for the whole crew to feast and a small cup of water lasts for days. He breaks bread and it never stops. Sometimes the blue of his eyes is beyond any known color, deeper and more vibrant than the ocean. Sometimes you'd almost swear you can see the shadow of a fish before it darts away behind his iris. His lighter never fails and sometimes the smoke smells like incense and takes the shape of animals before drifting away. He makes the ship a home, makes the kitchen the heart of it. He burns like the fire of a hearth.

Chopper

I like the idea of Chopper being a place of safety. He brings to mind churches that are always unlocked and cries of salvation. Holy water that cleans skin that didn't appear dirty to the eyes. How angels were depicted as cute and welcoming but written more as monsters. Warm fur and feathers poking though occasionally, soft little things and easy to miss in the heavy coat. Antlers that are more bone white than they should be, that cast shadows on the wall like long reaching fingers. Gentle and loving but raining wrath down on anyone who brings danger or pain to his, like old mother goddesses who love and hated with unrivaled passion.

Robin

I like the idea of Robin being all knowing. How eyes are used through history in temples and scripture and it makes you think of her and how she sees it all. She puts her palms on paper and the words crawl on and up her skin like tattoos desperate for a canvas. The pages she leaves behind are blank but sometimes knowledge isn't meant to be shared. She brings death in a burst of petals and they find the bodies she leaves behind in puddles of dark blood and white bone and beatiful flowers. She steps like Persephone on the earth with death and rebirth. She smiles with spring and winter.

Franky

I like idea of Franky building the Sunny like a temple. The ship built to be never ending and constant, new rooms around every corner. Some hold old forests that reach up and up and strange noises that aren't identifiable. Some have sand for miles and too many suns in a odd colored sky. Some of them are locked. He takes pride in a ship meant only to house something that will shake the world. Salt settles in the cracks of the ship with whispers of purity and protection, the wood creaks with strength and love, and the iron holds strong with courage and confidence. He wields a hammer like it's sacred, bringing it down like he's forging lightning for Zeus instead of a home for his crew.

Brook

I like to think of Brook bringing cold with him. He speaks with the breeze of fall and the slow build of death. Sometimes his eye sockets glow like coins in low lighting and he moves with sounds like a paddle through calm water. He brings the smell of cypress trees with him, cleansing the air like it's holy. The shadows follow him at night and are longest at 3am, when they weave through the lines of his shadow like embracing a lost lover. He plays his violin and the sounds of old prayers and lost songs fill the air.

[yutafrita]

Under the Blue Flames- Eight

"There is no blue without yellow and without orange." - Vincent Van Gogh

Pairing: Vampire!Yuta x Reader

Y/N Pronouns: She/Her

Genre: Fantasy au, Supernatural nct, sometimes college au, sometimes magical school au, angst, fluff

Chapter Word Count: 14.5K

Catch up on previous chapters here

Chapter Warnings: Swearing, graphic depictions of violence, blood, religious references and imagery, references to secondary character death

Tag List! @kodasity @hope-lovelle @ygimsgw​ @nini0620​

Chapter Eight

“I don’t like her going in by herself,” Yuta interjected Jaemin’s plan.

“Frankly, I don’t give a shit,” Jaemin snapped. The two glared at each other, a tense air filling the space in the car. Parked in Deer Moon, you all were being told the best plan to get Mark out and away from Sicheng.

“Yuta, I’ll be fine,” you soothed. It was hard to stay calm. You had no idea what Sicheng really knew and what he was capable of. Despite knowing these factors, Jaemin refused to say whether or not he knew if Sicheng was a mythic of some sort, leaving you all in the dark beyond the basic course of actions you all should take.

“All she has to do is get him talking for a good five minutes before we bust in, taking him by surprise. It gives us enough time to make sure he’s alone,” Ten added, more calm than you had ever seen him.

“Five minutes,” Yuta repeated. You nodded, and after a moment of silence, you slipped out of the SUV. Determined, and now completely ignoring the frigid night air, you tightened your coat as you walked towards Deer Moon.

You were half-expecting to see Sicheng and Mark at a booth, but instead were greeted by the bartender wiping down the bar top, a pair of deer antlers exposed at the crown of his head. Sungchan barely glanced up at you, simply sighing to himself before he spoke.

“He’s downstairs in the basement. I don’t ask questions, I just do what my boss tells me.”

“Fucking coward,” you spat, walking past him and to the door next to the kitchen he had gestured to.

“Whatever,” he called back. Huffing to yourself, you opened the door to the basement and started down the dimly lit steps.

“... is so ridiculous,” a voice from below spoke. You hurried your steps and saw Mark on a chair, his wrists uncomfortably tied and a blood streak dripping from his nose.

“Mark!” you cried, running to where he sat and reaching to untie the ropes.

“No don't-!” Mark had tried to stop you before, but your hands burned as soon as they graced over the ropes.

You hissed, ripping your hands away. Cradling them close to you, the burn marks gleamed on your finger tips.

“What the fuck?” you muttered, tears of frustration now threatening to spill.

“I just wanted to double check to make sure you had gotten them. I was right,” you whipped your head around to see Sicheng perched in the corner opposite from where you entered. You had come in so focused on trying to untie Mark that for a brief moment you completely forgot who had Mark.

“What even are you?” you shouted, shoving your aching hands in your pocket so he couldn’t see how damaged they were.

“You’re not going to ask what the ropes were covered in? What could leave Mark unharmed but burn you so horribly?” he mocked, stepping closer. You bit the inside of your cheek, fearing that you already knew the answer to this question.

“What are you?” You repeated more forcefully.

“He’s a demon,” Mark spat out, looking at you in fear. You looked between your brother to the normal looking Sicheng, then back at Mark.

“How is that even possible? You don’t…”

“Mark, let’s not oversimplify things,” Sicheng sighed, sounding as if he was bored.You clenched your fist, trying to keep your cool. You had to keep a sound mind for just five minutes in order to not burst into flames. Sicheng furrowed his eyebrows, and within moments his normal brown eyes turned into the blue you had once seen on yourself, his ears turned pointed, and a set of canines now protruded from his mouth.

“I’m Sicheng, but our father refers to me as Beelzebub,” he smirked now, enjoying the panicked look on your face.

“Our?” Mark repeated. You hung your head, trying to remember where you remember that stupid name from.

“Prince of Hell,” you finally turned your head up, remembering your Dad having mentioned it in passing during one of your lessons. Sicheng moved closer then, much to your dismay. “I don’t care what you are. Let. Mark. Go.”

“No, I don’t think I will. I think-  I’ll kill you and your adopted brother here. Then- I’ll kill that little boyfriend of yours. I can’t have my sister being more powerful than I am.”

“I am not your sister!” You shouted, your hands shooting from their pockets as you formed angered fists. Sicheng chuckled now.

“What do you call someone who shares the same father as you, then?” he mocked.

“She calls him Mark, you weirdo!” you turned your head towards Mark, tears welling now at the corners of both yours and of his eyes.

“Oh please how touching,” Sicheng gagged before moving forward and jabbing a punch across Mark’s cheek.

Furiously and without thinking you leapt forward, knocking Sicheng down and winding your fist to begin throwing punches at his face- until you heard a scream of fear. Glancing at your own fist, in the dim basement light, the blue flames added a blue hue to the entire room, emphasizing the fear on Mark’s face.

“Sis?” Mark whispered, your heart shattering. “You’re… really?” he couldn't even say it- shame welled up in your chest. In that moment of weakness, Sicheng knocked you off of himself, forcefully throwing a kick at your torso.

“You’re both so pathetic,” Sicheng sounded disgusted, looking down at you.

“Why were you there? On the blue night?” you asked quickly, knowing that soon enough, Yuta and everyone would be down here. The pain from his kick made it difficult to move, but you maneuvered yourself to at least lay on your stomach. Sicheng frowned.

“I thought all your memories from that night and before were wiped,” he muttered, more to himself than to you.

“It’s my first memory. Why were you there if you wanted me dead? Why not just kill me when I was little and confused?” you choked out. For a moment, a look of fear flashed across Sicheng’s face, before swiftly disappearing.

“So much energy had to be… expended… to get us to the surface. Plus, I was tasked with keeping you alive. I couldn’t turn my back on all of that so soon,” he explained, and he looked down.

“What do you mean by expended?” it was Mark who asked, now also twisting his wrists as he fought with the ropes that held him.

“Oh my god,” it hit you. The painful realization, the explanation hit you like a truck. “It’s easy to get into the underworld, but it’s near impossible to leave.”

“What?” Mark was still confused.

“Batteries, Mark. Satan killed all those mythics and people and used them like batteries,” you cried out, tears pouring their way down your cheeks.

“He just had a couple demons possess and destroy the bodies of a few people to be able to send us to the surface… not that big of a deal,” Sicheng said coldly, not phased in the slightest. You shakily got up, holding your stomach with your singed hands.

Overhead, you heard a round of stomping feet.

“Oh look, it’s your rescue crew,” Sicheng laughed. A small round of blue flames encompassed his body now as he seemed to prepare for the ensuing group. His flames were so different from yours- they were refined, controlled, whereas yours were impossible to control and exploded at nearly the drop of a hat.

“Just kill me, you don’t have to kill anyone else,” you stupidly plead, hoping to keep him at least mildly distracted before they finally made it into the basement.

“Not if I want to rule the underworld someday. Plus, isn’t it just more fun this way?”

You caught a small movement behind Sicheng’s figure. A small white cat had padded onto Mark’s lap and was slowly gnawing at the ropes on Mark’s wrist. The cat shot you a look, then a small wink.

“Of course Satan would send you to do such an easy task,” you were making things up from thin air now, trying to buy Hendery some time to untie Mark. If Jaemin hadn’t sent anyone else down here and was having Hendery untie Mark beforehand, there had to be a major reason. “You’re the weakest of the seven princes. You’ll never have what the others have.”

Sicheng’s cool demeanor was gone in an instant, his flames growing as a rage flashed across face.

“And who do you think you are to tell me that?” he snapped, cracking his knuckles.

“You’ll always just be known as envy for a reason, huh? Nothing is ever enough for you?” you taunted, noting that Hendery was almost done getting through the holy-water soaked ropes. “All you want is whatever everyone else has- because you know you haven’t earned anything.”

“Oh and you have? All you did was be born from a pesky human and Satan thinks you’re more special? You can’t even control your flames!”

You smirked. “I can’t, but at least I didn’t leave the person I held captive with the one thing that can take me down.”

Sicheng was confused for a brief moment, before realizing what you meant. At that point it was too late, and Mark was out of his seat and poured the remaining contents of the holy water over Sicheng. Sicheng yelled in agony, falling to the floor and holding his burned sides.

“Quickly, we have to tie him up with these and bring him upstairs,” Hendery returned to his human form, and brought out what looked like a deep black set of handcuffs.

“Are those-?”

“Onyx handcuffs? Yep. It’s likely the only thing that can keep him from using his flames,” Hendery explained to you, as he gestured to Mark to force the groaning Sicheng onto his stomach.

Your own wrists empathetically ached as you watched Mark tighten them around Sicheng’s wrists. The two then started carrying him upstairs. You stood alone in the basement now. You were worried beyond belief- what had they heard upstairs? Did Yuta know? What happens now with Sicheng? What is Yuta going to say?

A sinking feeling gnawed at you- Mark was friends with Sicheng for years and was able to easily attack him and bind him with handcuffs. When he learned about your parentage, a look of fear you had never seen was there. If you were to have an outburst in front of everyone again, who was to say that wouldn’t be you? Fully burned in holy water and bound by the only thing that can protect you?

You looked down at your singed hand, watching as they slowly worked to heal themselves. Glancing up, you noticed something you hadn’t before- the sub-basement window had been cracked open, the cold night air flooding the basement.

“They’re all distracted by Sicheng, and I sent Yuta to a payphone to call your father,” Jaemin’s voice scared you enough for your hands to catch on fire again.

“Why a pay phone?”

“He lost his phone,” he dug into his pocket and revealed Yuta’s phone. You blinked quickly.

“What…?”

“This is where your path is stuck. If you’re going to leave, this is your last window, and that-,” he pointed to the open window, “- is your last exit. But know that if you do, it will break everyone’s heart,” he turned swiftly on his heel towards the steps of the basement. He paused, glancing over his shoulder. “Everyone’s fear of Satan is nothing compared to their love for you.”

He left you alone now, the weight of the world feeling as if it was resting on your shoulders. You looked up at the window, your mind racing with the intense fear you had. You had no control over your powers, you were the reason Yuta’s brother died, and everyone feared your power.

You stared at the window, the hands of the chilly night air gesturing for you to come out, to leave.

“I love you,” Yuta’s words rang back now, and you gasped, feeling angry with yourself for even considering just leaving. The way you could talk about books for hours, your mutual attraction for the other, the memories you’ve already made together, Yuta was your anchor.

“That stupid prophecy,” you huffed to yourself, turning away from the window to go upstairs and follow your path.

***

Sungchan, and the cook, Taeil, were tied in the corner of the restaurant.

“Is that necessary?” You asked as you entered the dining room. Sicheng was propped onto the bar, and Jaemin perched next to him with a cat-form Hendery on his lap. Mark was getting his nose and bruised cheek treated by Johnny in a booth and Ten paced the restaurant at a rapid speed.

“No, it’s not,” Sungchan replied back.

“I knew we shouldn’t have taken that dude’s money,” Taeil huffed, the blue faerie wings on his back tied up too.

“We couldn’t risk it,” Johnny explained, tapping Mark’s head to let him know that he was healed. Mark thanked Johnny, who then walked to you.

You both awkwardly stared at each other. You waited for him to say something, anything, and he stared at you as if you were a fragile piece of glass.

“Hey.”

“Yeah, Mark?”

“You know Dad’s going to be really sad if you stop calling him Dad, right?” he said, a small smirk forming on his lips. You rolled your eyes, punching his arm.

“You guys can’t get rid of me that easily,” you teased. He ruffled your already messy hair.

“Good,” was all he responded with, wrapping you in a bear hug.

“I’m sorry that this happened, and this is how you found you,” your voice was low as you spoke, squeezing him tightly.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t do more.”

“I think burning a Prince of Hell is more than enough,” you laughed, pulling away. The front door opened then, and you were quickly wrapped in a different, colder embrace.

“I was so worried,” Yuta said into your shoulder, squeezing you tightly. “These assholes have some sort of sound proofing in their basement that makes it impossible to hear almost anything- even for mythics. I had no idea if you were okay or not.”

So they didn’t know anything. You could still be the one to tell him, you realized, and relief flooded your system.

“If we’re letting random mythics use our basement the least we could do is properly sound proof it,” the cook called, glaring over his shoulder to the shifter bartender.

“I’m okay but, can we go outside to talk?” you asked Yuta, your voice low. Yuta raised an eyebrow but followed you nonetheless outside.

“How did my Dad take Mark being kidnapped?” you asked, starting towards the edge of the parking lot, trying to put some distance between you two and the bar. You’d worry about Ten and Johnny finding out later- for now, you wanted your words to only be heard by Yuta.

“It’s hard to listen to a grown man cry I’ll be honest, but he’ll be here soon. I told him that Johnny was able to heal him since it was minor wounds,” he explained, scratching the back of his neck.

“Yeah, he’d cry whenever either one of us scraped our knees on the playground sometimes,” you chuckled dryly. There was an awkward silence now, and you looked to make sure you were far enough from the bar.

“I… have to tell you something,” you struggled to speak now, your voice shaking.

“Is everything okay?” Yuta’s voice was so soft and full of concern. Staring into his eyes, you began to second guess yourself. Should you even tell him? He had a right to know why his brother passed away, and about your identity. He had opened up to you so much, you wanted him to know.

The corner of your mouth twitched. “To send… powerful beings from the underworld to our world is very difficult. It requires a high amount of energy,” you started. Yuta nodded along, confused but listening closely.

“The blue night… Satan harnessed the energy of those mythics with demons to send two beings to earth. Sicheng was one of them,” at you saying this, Yuta’s eyes flashed into their harsh red.

“I can’t believe that, why? And who else was it? Was it one of the restaurant owners?” he asked. You were shaking now, your nerves and the cold having more control over your body than you did. Hands trembling, you lifted your right hand up and thought about the controlled flames Sicheng had engulfed his own body in. In a moment, a small blue flame began to dance across your fingertips, illuminating yours and Yuta’s face,

“Me,” you whispered, afraid to look up. The only sound for what felt like ages was the wind blowing past the two of you, flickering and threatening the blue flames. It was painful. You were dreading what would happen next.

“What?” That was all Yuta could respond with. You flicked your hand, the flames dying out as you looked back at him. His eyebrows were turned up, his red eyes furiously looking you up and down as if trying to piece things together to no avail.

“I… inherited the power of the blue flames from my biological father,” you explained. “My birth mother, as far as I know, is human.”

“My brother died… because Satan wanted to send you to earth?” he repeated, his eyes now fixed on your own. It felt like a punch in the gut. Pressing your lips together, you nodded. You waited for an outburst, to take back what he had said earlier, for him to tell you that he hated you.

He was still staring, waiting.

“I’m sorry… I… If I could change it I would,” you were crying now, the frigid air freezing the tears that raced down your cheek. Silently, Yuta stepped forward and embraced you. It took you by surprise, and you stood frozen now, wrapped in his arms as you quietly sobbed.

“You… we had no control on the paths we were put on. All we can do… is hang on to each other,” his voice quivered as he spoke, and a warmth began to spill over your shoulders. You wrapped your arms around Yuta, sobbing loudly now as you two held on  to each other, the weight of the world firmly now on both of your shoulders.

You were in this position for what felt like hours, clinging onto each other for dear life. The screeching of tire wheels on the road nearby caught your attention. You parted from Yuta, and your eyes widened in a panic.

“Oh, that’s how we cry,” Yuta realized that you had never seen what vampire tears looked like, the blood streaks that raced over his cheeks making you jump. You brushed your fingers over your now cold shoulder, and pulled them back to see they were soaked in Yuta’s tears- a deep crimson shade of blood.

“That’s fine, we’ll just pretend we look normal even if someone says something,” you half joked, earning you a small chuckle from Yuta. Lacing your fingers through Yuta’s, you slowly walked back towards the restaurant, listening as the loud conversations raised in volume the closer you too got.

Re-entering, you saw your Dad crushing Mark against his chest in a bear hug, cooing as he did.

“My little boy got hurt!”

“I’m an adult man who is fine!” Mark choked out. Your Dad let go and turned his attention to you two at the front door, his eyes widening in fear.

“It’s not my blood,” you quickly stated, raising your hands in defense. Your Dad shook his head, stifling laughter as he wrapped his arms around you in a hug just as strong as the one he was giving Mark.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he whispered, squeezing you tightly. He let go of you then, shooting a glare at Yuta before moving to the center of the restaurant and eyeing the handcuffed Sicheng.

“Y’know we’re sending you back to hell, right?” your Dad sounded bored as he glared at your old classmate.

“Are you sending her too?” Sicheng chuckled.

“Watch yourself. The President may be human but he’s crazy,” Ten spoke up, stopping the pacing he had been doing.

“Listen to the vampire,” your Dad noted.

“Can we please be un-tied?” Sungchan suddenly begged, yanking at the ropes on his wrists.

“Guys I think it’s a little ridiculous that they’re still tied up,” you spoke up, stepping towards the pair.

“And what if they try letting Sicheng go?” Ten questioned. You glanced at Jaemin.

“Are they going to misbehave?” you asked the psychic, hands hovering near the bounded pair.

“Not if we give them twenty bucks,” Jaemin replied, smirking to himself.

Looking back to Ten, you extended your hand, “I know you swindled money from Jisung somehow.”

Ten groaned, handing you a twenty dollar bill. You held the bill up to the shifter and faerie’s faces now.

“I’m gonna untie you. Don’t give us any problems, got it?”

“Yeah, we get it,” Taeil sounded exasperated. With Yuta’s help now, you guys quickly let the pair out of their ropes, Taeil stretching out his wings and Sungchan going to get a scratch near his antlers.

“These handcuffs are useless,” Sicheng laughed as if there was a joke only he was privy to.

“You haven’t burst into flames, I say they’re pretty good,” Mark scoffed, sifting through your father’s pocket incantation book.

“Did you guys know that I burst into flames when someone else mentions particular names or events?” he announced suddenly. “Of course, I can’t. Not with these handcuffs.”

You shared a glance now with Mark and Yuta, both looking back at you expectantly.

“Yep, me and all my brothers. For me, it’s Beelzebub- that’s my fun little calling card,” he continued. Panicking, not knowing what else to do, you searched around for anything to silence him, settling on the untied rope.

“Shut him up!” Mark shouted as you rushed towards the smirking Sicheng.

You had straightened the rope, ready to force it past Sicheng’s teeth to press onto his tongue, until he whispered, “Lilith.”

It was uncontrollable. Your entire body blew up in blue flames, and you agonizingly felt your teeth extend as the fangs protruded out, your ears instantly growing, and you haphazardly hung onto your shirt as the back tore open to reveal a set of wings.

“Holy shit!” Someone managed to yell loud enough over the raging fire. Your entire being was filled with an uncontrollable rage now, anger spilling over every surface as you looked around you.

Everyone besides you, Sicheng and Yuta were frantic. Ten and Hendery had run out of the restaurant as soon as you lit up, Ten holding the door open and shouting something at everyone else. You had caught the look on Johnny’s face, before he forcibly dragged out a kicking Mark from the bar. Sungchan and Taeil followed suit, and that’s when the first beam fell from the roof.

“Leave!” you shouted in a panic. The voice that came out didn’t belong to you it seemed- it was low and guttural, it scared you, and in that panic you felt the anger growing deep inside of you. Looking now, you watched Yuta’s face through your flames. Why wasn’t he leaving?

He mouthed something to you that you didn’t understand.

It wrapped around your throat first, extinguishing any bit of air you could take in. You began gasping for air, hunched over on the ground as the flames on and around you began slowly puffing out of existence. It was a pressure on every part of your body, and you violently clawed at your throat trying to remove whatever it was that had wrapped itself around you and was stopping your breathing. Eyes watering and panicked, you looked up to see your father’s shaking hands reading over his pocket book, his own eyes clearly red and tearing up as he did so.

“It’s gone, you can stop!” Yuta’s voice came back now. You could guess who he was shouting to, but you were still hunched over, nails digging into the flesh of your neck trying to remove the weight that was still wrapping around you.

Another pair of hands had snatched up your own, leaving you still fighting for air, your vision spotty. A harsh slap to your back left you coughing now, air finally filling your lungs and a painful stinging to seize the area around your throat. You were shaking violently now, your own arms wrapped around your figure and another set of arms wrapped protectively over you.

“It’s just as you always feared,” a voice you assumed was Sicheng, laughed. Your eyes were squeezed shut, forehead kissing the ground as you stayed hunched over in agony. Although your fangs, ears, and wings had retracted to wherever they came from, the pain of them piercing through your flesh plus the skin you broke along your throat made even breathing unbearable. The thought of even looking up made you want to hurl the bile rising from your stomach.

“Yuta, bring Johnny here. She needs a healer,” the voice cracked on that last part, following with a loud thud on the floor. A pair of footsteps started, and faded out of the restaurant followed by a loud call to the outside.

“You’re going to be okay. I’m sorry, I should have protected you,” Yuta’s voice was so low, hardly a whisper. His hands were shaking now, almost hovering over you to show you that he was nearby but feared touching you. Your neck was gushing blood at the moment- of course he was panicking. You wanted to tell him how okay it was to step away to take care of himself, but even quivering your lip to try and speak led to a giant spike of pain to slam against your whole body.

“Holy shit- Yuta get out of here! Ten can smell her outside and your eyes are bad man,” a voice now approaching you stated.

“I’m not leaving- now heal her,” Yuta growled, earning silence from the other people nearby. The person seemed to move slowly to you, and carefully moved his hands to the back of your neck.

“It’s going to hurt, it won’t be perfect, but I’m going to do my best,” Johnny said. He didn’t exaggerate. For a few brief seconds, you had experienced the worst amounts of pain all at once before a majority of it was all gone. You were able to lift your head now and slowly sit up, able to fully assess everything and everyone around you. Most of the restaurant was scorched, Sicheng’s mouth was stuffed with a sock, and everyone was staring at you in fear.

***

There were a few stipulations after that night. First, Sicheng was going to be sent back after he was presented to the council- as such, this wouldn’t be until after Yuta was officially installed. Until that point, everyone there that night agreed to keep your… genetics a secret. The second stipulation was one you had offered to do yourself, much to Yuta’s dismay.

Your father was able to quickly find an onyx necklace for you. It’s managed to keep your powers from flaring up, but at a cost. You were constantly falling asleep, exhausted, and were struggling more than you normally did during finals week. If you could maybe see Yuta more, maybe you’d feel less… exhausted, but he was constantly being whisked away for a new arbitrary task.

Today, you were hoping to sit with him for more than fifteen minutes. You were on your couch in your dorm, laying on his lap and playing with his fingers, your eyes feeling heavy.

“Why are you wearing that?” Yuta asked, his hands letting go of yours and moving to trace over the onyx necklace on your collarbone.

“You know why,” you sighed. No matter how little time you got with him, one thing was consistent- he would always get frustrated staring at the stone weighing you down. It kept everyone safe, this he was sure of, but he was also sure that it sapped any energy you did have.

He pressed his lips together in a thin line. His fingers moved to stroke your hair, now visibly lost in thought.

“Did they finally tailor your coronation suit?” The suit was supposedly something traditionally handcrafted and embellished in the colors of the coronated person's family crest. If the soon to be leader had a betrothed, the coronation outfit was to have their colors as well to reflect that they too would have an impact in the courts.

Yuta had initially asked if you would like your own family’s colors on his outfit, but you admitally pushed him against the idea. If the council didn’t like you when you were human, you could only imagine how they would feel if they found out you were the daughter of Satan and the reason the original heir had died. You had to admit though, it was a wonderful feeling for Yuta to even consider it nonetheless.

“Yeah, I’d show you but it’s a surprise.”

“Ten says he’s seen it though.”

“Ten gives very helpful fashion advice- plus, if I have to have another oligarchy family member there I’d prefer it be Ten.”

“You could have just asked Jaemin. He already knows what you’re going to look like anyways,” you chuckled dryly, stifling a yawn as you did.

“That’s it,” Yuta huffed getting up so quickly you almost didn’t have time to move out of his way. “Put on your coat and come with me.”

Raising an eyebrow, you sloppily grabbed the coat you had strewn onto your kitchen table, and followed Yuta. Oddly enough, walking on the path with him, you realized you were headed towards the main building. It was around three in the morning at this point, so the human students were scarce at best, with mostly just occasional mythics out in groups enjoying themselves.

“Why are we here?” your voice carried through the main building now, the echoes jarring you.

“Sicheng is in the basement, right? I don’t have access to the room,” Yuta half ignored you, his head darting around to make sure no one else was in the building. “We need to ask him something.”

“What-?”

“Just trust me,” his eyes were pleading, and they glanced down to where the onyx sat on your collarbone. You were concerned, yes, but you were also curious. Johnny and your father were the ones primarily handling and taking care of Sicheng to both get information and make sure he stayed well taken care of considering the circumstances. You hadn’t been around him since the night in the restaurant. Everytime you thought about him, you were reminded of the monster that sat inside of you.

You took your ID out from your back pocket and guided Yuta to the basement area. You hadn’t been able to train with your father in a couple weeks, yet walking towards the training area under the gymnasium it felt as if it had been years. You were always confident in your fighting skills, and now, you didn’t know who you were in any aspect.

Scanning your ID and entering the training area, you were confused.

Sicheng sat comfortably on a couch in the center of the room, two locked onyx bracelets holding on tightly to his wrists. He, however, didn’t seem as lethargic as you were. He was perched up on the couch, Switch controls in hand as he played Mario Kart.

Not moving his gaze from the screen, he called out, “Can I help you guys? I’m about to beat my old score on Rainbow Road.”

Blinking, the TV screen went black, and Yuta had moved from your side to next to the TV screen, holding the cable between his fingers.

“Hey man!” Sicheng shouted, pissed.

“You can control your powers,” it seemed like Yuta had meant to ask this, but it came out as more of a statement. Sicheng looked over at you, then the onyx necklace.

“Don’t tell me you’ve been wearing that shit willingly,” he spat, moving to yank at the bracelets that were locked into place on his wrists. “You are so embarrassing.”

“Yuta, can we go?” you called, anger forming in the pit of your stomach. It was taking everything in you to not leap onto the couch and fight Sicheng who was staring at you as if you were a weak buffoon.

“You’re going to teach her to control her powers,” again, Yuta said this as a statement of fact.

“What?” both you and Sicheng roared before glaring at each other.

“Do it… and I’ll argue for you to stay on earth,” Yuta gritted his teeth as he spoke the last part, his fangs extending slightly. He hated asking this, you could read it in his red eyes and the way he was avoiding even looking at Sicheng out of pure spite.

“What makes you think I want to stay here?” Sicheng pressed, crossing his arms over his chest as if he made a grand point.

“You’ve been here for over twenty years now and have chosen to stay the entire time,” you pointed out, hoping to save Yuta the struggle.

“What makes you think I’m not going to kill you if I get the-?” Sicheng didn’t get to finish his sentence, as an angered Yuta now gripping his shirt collar stopped him.

“You will be burned in holy water for the rest of eternity if you even dare to lay a hand on her,” Yuta growled, his fangs now fully extended.

“Geez okay, fine. If it means I get to leave this place then fine, I’ll show her the basics.”

You started heading to the training gym everyday once finals week ended, making the campus nearly desolate as most people were visiting family or on trips for the holiday break. As part of the deal with Sicheng, one other person attended the sessions with you all day mainly because you didn’t trust Sicheng to not to try and kill you again.

The first few days weren’t anything you didn’t feel you couldn’t handle. Sicheng had you remove your onyx necklace and take him on in hand to hand combat with at least some energy. You were able to take him down with relative ease with a chuckling Mark on the sidelines.

Yesterday and today though, were far more difficult. He had requested something rather odd- a sack of one hundred candles and a fire extinguisher. You and Ten had lugged the items in a small cart, confused, but hoping there was an actual reason.

Sicheng set three of the candles in front of you, and handed Ten the fire extinguisher.

Sicheng then pointed to the two candles at the end. “You’re going to light just the wick on these two candles. Only the ones on the ends, not the one on the center. Whenever you make a mistake, Ten’s in charge of putting out the flames and putting you out.”

“Wait, this will put out Satan’s flames?” Ten questioned, staring at the fire extinguisher as if it was a small toy.

“Yes, and it won’t mortally wound her. You guys are the worst up here- using holy water for everything,” Sicheng grumbled.

It was a grueling eight hours. By the end of it, you had burned up a majority of the candles, and were soaked in the fire extinguisher powder. Not to mention you had also managed to burn Sicheng’s pants and the mats in the training room. You got a little closer towards the end of the session- by that you burned only the top half of the two candles- but you yourself were burnt out and Ten was tired of constantly having to put you out.

Today, you were joined by Jaemin and Hendery. You knew Jaemin meant well, but you were well aware of the fact that beyond his future-seeing abilities he didn’t do much in terms of acting as defensive help in case Sicheng did try to lunge at you. Having him come along with Hendery made you feel more at ease since Hendery had mastered some helpful shifter forms. Although, you only ever saw him in his cat form for the most part.

You had gone through another round of candles. You were already nursing a headache from the previous night, and your frustration was making it incredibly difficult to concentrate.

“Focus,” Sicheng repeated robotically.

“What do you think I’m doing?” you snapped.

“You’re focusing on the fire. You need to hone in on your emotions, and then have that translate to your flames,” he explained as if he were speaking to a toddler.

“Well my emotions are very annoyed right now,” you huffed. Sicheng rolled his eyes.

“That anger you felt when you… flared up, you need to hone that. That’s what triggers and fuels Satan’s flames. Use that anger, and release it as the flames.”

You nodded. This did seem to make sense- your anger is what spurred your first outburst with Yuta’s mother, and that inhumane anger you felt once you turned that night wanted to rot away at you.

“Let it out in a small burst,” Sicheng guided. Pressing your lips in a tight line, you shut your eyes, visualizing the candles, their wicks, and how you felt after his mother had looked down on you. How you didn’t feel that you were good enough. Those bits of anger that had been chipping away at you. Opening your eyes, you squinted at the wicks that were now lit evenly by a small blue flame, the center unblemished.

“I did it!” you cheered, smiling brighter than you had in the past few days.

“Finally. Now put it out,” Sicheng instructed, glaring at you now.

“How do I do that?” you asked, your voice dropping from the initial excitement.

“Think of… a happy memory. Something of equal measure to clear that anger you used to ignite them.”

The rest of the session went on to a painfully monotonous cycle of turning on the candles of Sicheng’s choosing and flicking them off. It was grueling, but gave you a key understanding- your emotions were iniscripantly tied to your powers. So, to control your powers, you most certainly need to manage your emotions.

“So, you have homework.”

“Homework?”

“Don’t wear your necklace for 24 hours, and manage your powers on your own in that time,” he instructed, holding the necklace in his hands.

“When did you-?”

“I gave it to him after you handed it to me,” Jaemin explained.

“You’ll be fine, now leave I have a Valorent tournament to join,” he pushed the three of you out then, leaving you standing out in the hall without the ball and chain you had hanging on your neck. While a part of you was ecstatic to not be drained of all energy, you were freaking out over the possibility you messing this up somehow and hurting people.

“Do you have any plans now that you have energy again?” Jaemin asked, following behind you as you started slowly out of the building.

“I’m not sure… I hadn’t thought that far ahead.”

“I could tell,” Jaemin replied, earning him a chuckle from Hendery.

“Ha ha, you can see the future how funny,” you mocked. Stepping out now into the courtyard, the skies were in twilight, the wind reminding you to put on your coat or to freeze.

“If Yuta doesn’t pass by tonight, Johnny’s hosting a smash tournament in the Night dorm if you want to come by,” Jaemin invited.

“Yeah, I’ve heard that Ten’s saying he’s beaten you a bunch,” Hendery taunted. You scoffed, smiling a bit.

“I’ll think about it- although I could beat him with my eyes closed,” you chuckled. The pair waved goodbye, leaving you to walk alone now to your dorm- or so thought.

Chaein seemed to run out from the forest right by the path, looking exhausted but also excited to see you. You hadn’t spoken with her since the start of the semester, and she had been avidly avoiding you- likely due to her fear of retaliation from Doyoung.

“Y/N! Ten said I’d find you here!” She called, catching up to you. She had on a beanie- likely to shield her from the cold and also to cover her elf ears.

“So you’re talking to me again?” you wanted to not be bitter- but a part of you couldn’t help it. You were classmates with Chaein, and she was the first mythic that spoke with you despite not being family friends.

“I’m sorry, okay? Doyoung threatened to tell my parents I was choosing to sit next to you. They’re not… big into humans,” she whispered the last part despite there not being many day students around. You sighed, and smiled at her.

“It’s okay. Is everything alright? You came out of the forest like a bat out of hell.”

“Right! I wanted to give you this,” she took out a small envelope from her back pocket. You raised an eyebrow, and she shot you an encouraging smile, urging you to open it in front of her. Carefully, you tore open the envelope to see a detailed card with the words beautifully printed Happy Yuletide across the top.

“I know humans share cards with each other during this time of year, and I thought this one looked the coolest,” she excitedly pointed out different details on the card- the shading of the deers, the way the font was composed of four different colors.

“Wow Chaein, this beautiful,” you didn’t really know what to say.

“It’s my way of apologizing, and hoping that we can maybe be friends in the future?” her voice shook a bit at the end, and you stared at the card. The thought put into finding it and even asking Ten where you might be… it was heartwarming.

“I would say this could constitute us as being friends,” you replied. Chaein cheered, wrapping you in a hug that caught you off guard.

“I have to go soon so I don’t miss Johnny’s tournament. You should come!” she encouraged, clapping her hands together.

“I don’t know…” your voice drifted off. Whenever Yuta did swing by, it wasn’t until later in the night you thought, glancing off at your dorm building. “When does it start?”

“In fifteen- it’ll be fun!”

Surprising yourself, you nodded, and followed Chaein to the night dorm. The last time you swung by, you had walked past the main dorm and stayed in the library for a bit. Tonight though, you were arm and arm with Chaein, listening to her go on about how annoying she found her finals to be as you entered the main night dorm building.

The foyer was massive- a large living space in the center with plush carpeting and a grand staircase framing it. A group of students sat around a flat screen TV at the center, the only couch crammed with several mythics and the floor lined with a few different coolers. The students were initially facing away from the door, but all turned their heads to see who entered- most of which being faces that you not only recognized but also were friends with.

“Jaemin, you are such a liar!” Ten shouted, shoving himself off the couch to greet you. He wrapped you in a rather surprising hug, and you immediately could smell the cloud of Soju that enveloped him. “I can’t believe Chaein convinced you to come by!” he slurred, letting go and grabbing your wrist to bring you towards the center.

Johnny was setting up the flat screen, his wings fully exposed and fluttering gently as he plugged in the HDMI and speakers. Jaemin and Hendery were on the couch with Shotaro- whom you had come to learn was Johnny and Ten’s third roommate. Mark was on the floor playing a game of cards with Taeyong- you’d have to ask him later when they were suddenly acquaintances.  

You glanced up, and felt yourself immediately having to control the anxiety building up for fear of it spilling into flames.

Looking down on the foyer was Doyoung and a group of other night students all shooting glares your way. You gulped, looking back down to control your breathing and thoughts as best as possible. For a moment, you wished you had the onyx necklace. At the very least then you knew you wouldn’t burst into flames.

“So you heard Ten was talking shit about your smash skills?” Mark asked, picking up the cards and shuffling them. You laughed, sitting next to your brother.

“I could take her now!” Ten yelled, collapsing back onto the couch and pinching Shotaro’s cheeks.

Counting those in the foyer, it seemed to you that nine people wasn’t much of a smash tournament.

“I can’t let a drunk vampire run around telling lies! Are we missing anyone?”

Ten went to answer you, but Johnny answered before him, “Renjun is grabbing another controller, but normally we’d have Yuta as well.”

“Oh,” was all you could say. Not only did you only get less time with Yuta, but so were his friends and the people he had known for years- it felt selfish of you to just realize this.

“I think this controller should be good,” a new voice announced. They sat on the floor in front of Jaemin and Hendery, a set of orange fox ears peeking through his orange hair and an orange fox tail coming out from his pants. Johnny stood up now, screen glowing behind him.

“All right folks, standard rules apply- seven minutes a match, three lives, and no use of your special abilities… looking at you Jaemin and Shotaro,” Johnny glared at the pair, who exchanged a knowing look to the other. You leaned closer to Chaein and gestured to Shotaro. You knew he was Johnny and Ten’s roommate, but you didn’t really know much about him beyond that.

“Mind reader,” she clarified, knowing what you silently wanted to ask.

“All right, let’s get started!” Johnny called, earning roars from the groups and small murmurs from the crowd upstairs. It was unsettling having them staring down on you guys, so you were hoping that you’d be able to ask Ten or even Johnny about it once you were out of everyone else’s earshot.

Monitoring the time the best you could while also checking for any texts you played the first two rounds with ease, lucking out with Mark in your first and Chaein in the fight shortly thereafter. Going up against Ten though, albeit drunk, was a bit of a bigger challenge than you had initially expected.

“See while you’ve been sleeping with the King I’ve only been playing smash,” he spoke rather loudly, and you bit your tongue to not say anything back to him.

“That’s just sad man,” you heard Taeyong mumble. Taeyong was taken out in the first round by Chaein and was moping around. It took a little longer, but you were able to handle Ten easily once you landed a combo on his character.

“Now you can’t talk shit,” you laughed, blowing a raspberry in his direction.

“I can’t even say I could take you in a real fight,” he sighed, collapsing onto the crowded couch, much to the groans of Shotaro, Hendery, and Jaemin.

“All right Renjun, sorry that I’ve gotta beat you,” Johnny taunted as they moved towards the TV, you now scooting back. Checking your phone, you were a bit surprised.

Yuta: Hey! You’re not in your dorm?

You quickly shot him a text, letting him know where you were, and suddenly feeling nervous. You glanced back towards the staircase, making direct eye contact with Doyoung before you looked back down to Jaemin and Johnny’s match.

“Who would you rather take on, y/n?” Shotaro asked politely, his eyes looking at you curiously.

“Hm,” you looked back at the pair and checked out their characters, “I could take either one, doesn’t matter,” you laughed.

“Don’t get too cocky, human,” Renjun called.

“Ha, human,” Ten drunkenly giggled, seeming to fall in and out of sleep. Remembering you had to have several mind readers around you, you quickly thought of whatever you could to change Ten’s train of thought.

“Ten, how long have you known Shotaro?” you asked the vampire, who then smiled and went to pinch the cheeks of the mind reader, who groaned tiredly.

“I’ve known Taro since he was a baby…” Ten cooed. You glanced over at Mark who smirked at you, knowing your own thought process without having to read your mind.

Much to no one’s surprise, Johnny took down Renjun’s character, leaving Johnny to be the last person you needed to take on in the bracket.

“Let’s make a bet,” Johnny announced. “If I win you have to… wash my car.”

“I’m not washing your car,” you rolled your eyes, taking a controller and sitting next to him.

“If you win you won’t be washing it,” he noted.

“If I win, I get to borrow your car all day tomorrow,” you countered. Johnny furrowed his eyebrows at you, but nodded shortly before you started the last round. The rest of the group gathered around closely behind you two, voicing their own opinions and shouting notes of their own.

“Get her Johnny!”

“You’ve got this, y/n!”

“Dang, that’s intense.”

The only other person you’d been able to play with recently had been Yuta, and he was notably a better opponent than everyone else here. It took effort, but in your last life you were able to finally launch Johnny’s character out and win.

“Woo! I got the car for a day!” you cheered, laughing as you felt several hands patting your back.

“You don’t even have a license,” Johnny groaned, rubbing his forehead in frustration. Amongst the chatter of your small group, there was a small rush of footsteps, catching everyone off guard once it was noticed that the rest of the night students had taken to surrounding the foyer.

“Oh, hello everyone,” Ten slurred, forcing himself out of the couch too quickly and having to catch himself by leaning on your shoulder.

“Okay, your tournament is done now. They can go,” Doyoung announced, glaring only at you. You helped Ten stand on his feet, and glared back at the shifter.

“We haven’t done anything, and our IDs allow us access to here,” you countered. Mark stood a bit closer to the shifter, and turned back to try and share a look with you that you couldn’t quite catch.

“For a human, you have quite a lot of nerve,” Doyoung sneered, his lips curling upward. A small scoff sound was heard next to you, and fearfully you glanced at Ten who now covered his mouth with his hand and was shaking his head rapidly.

“What’s Ten trying to not think about?” Shotaro asked absentmindedly, earning him a surprised look from Doyoung who turned to the group of students behind him.

“Stay in Ten’s mind!” the one named Xiaojun called, a curious look in his eyes as he stared down at your best friend.

“Everyone better stay out of Ten’s business,” another voice called, earning small gasps as the crowd parted. “Doyoung, stop being an ass.”

“Just because you’re dating her, doesn’t mean she can… run amok in our space!” Doyoung changed his composure in Yuta’s presence. Gone was the smug, holier-than-thou expression he held, having replaced it with a much more meek facial expression and hunched, unsure shoulders.

“Her and Mark were just leaving. Don’t be a jerk,” Johnny muttered, reaching to grab Ten and walk him out alongside you and your brother.

“Yeah, don’t be a jerk,” Xiaojun suddenly added, earning him a swift glare from Doyoung. Yuta wrapped an arm over your shoulder as you started out from the night dorm, holding you tightly to his cold body as you glanced back, waving goodbye to Chaein and everyone else who stood still in the foyer.

“See you later!” Chaein called cheerily despite the glare Dyoung had shot her way. Walking out into the cold, Mark was speaking rapidly to Ten, trying to have his mind go anywhere else until you could be fully out of earshot from the rest of the mythics.

“Why is he such a prick?” you asked, pressing yourself closely to Yuta as you matched his steps towards your dorm.

“He thinks he’s better than everyone because he mastered his powers quicker than most other shifters,” Johnny responded. He had sloppily thrown a jacket over his shoulders, the small outline of his wings noticeable to your naked eye now.

“And no one’s ever put him in his place?” Mark pressed, letting off of Ten one he felt you had moved far enough from the night dorms.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll have him taken care of,” Yuta interjected, staring ahead blankly. There was a small silence, everyone seemed puzzled by Yuta’s threatening statement- although he didn’t seem to notice. “So, who won tonight's tournament?”

“I did!”

“Unfortunately,” Johnny sighed, in fear of the bet he had made with you. “What are you even going to do with my car?”

You thought for a moment. Looking up at the night sky, the small clouds that had formed looming over the small group now as you neared your dorms.

“I have a few ideas.”

***

Your fingers mindlessly tapped the steering wheel, the few seconds now passing like an eternity as you stared straight ahead of you in the parking lot. You had felt fairly confident in your three point turn, and you properly used your turning signals. You were sure you answered the testers questions properly too. Yet, why were they taking so long to calculate your results?

“You didn’t look back all the way when you backed up,” the old man noted, his pencil now tapping the sheet on his clipboard. He looked up at you then, the panic in your eyes making him feel bad almost for having said this. “You did just fine, 88 out of 100 is more than enough to get your license.”

“Really?” you were surprised. He handed you the sheet of paper, congratulated you, and stepped out of the vehicle, leaving you alone to stare at the affirmation in your hands. You hadn’t told anyone, not even Yuta, that you were going to take your drivers test with Johnny’s car. You had told everyone you were going to the spa, and they didn’t press too much further than that. Now, after waiting and finally getting your license printed, you were fully licensed to drive. Later than your peers, for sure, but fully licensed nonetheless. You twiddled the plastic ID in your hand, ignoring how tired you looked in your photo and just felt elated.

For a brief moment, you felt like a normal person.

Bringing your phone out from your pocket, you called your boyfriend, fully expecting the video call to go unanswered.

Much to your pleasant surprise, he answered, seeming to be in a hallway.

“Everything okay? And, why are you in a car?” His voice was low along with the lighting, but he looked just as beautiful as ever. Smiling, you brought out your license, flashing it in front of the camera.

“No way,” he hollered, his giggling sounding like a soft bell through the phone speaker.

“I am finally a licensed driver, now I just need a car,” you chuckled.

“Time to get paid for that warden job of yours.”

“At this point- hey, don’t you have a meeting today?” you tried getting a better look of where he was, but it was hard to tell.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to ignore your calls.”

“That’s so romantic- how lame,” you teased.

“It’s a meeting with Ten’s Mom, it’s fine,” he assured.

“Oh, that’s why the hallway was familiar,” you thought aloud.

“I’ve gotta go, we need to finish the meeting up. I love you, y/n.”

“I love you too, Yuta.”

**

The second person you told about your license was Mark. Instead of calling him, you decided to instead meet him in the student parking lot and have him see it in person

“Wow! Having a license was the one thing I had over you,” he joked. You punched his arm playfully, having parked Johnny’s car in his spot and walking through campus with your brother. It had been a while since you could just casually walk through campus, and it was great.

“Do you remember when we would come here when we were younger?” Mark seemed to be thinking what you were, looking at the forest lined path that led towards the main building. You nodded.

“I remembered thinking everyone looked so old,” you hummed.

“Now look at us,” he chuckled, rubbing his forehead. You squinted, looking at the unmoving crease between Mark’s eyebrows.

“What’s on your mind?” you asked, tucking your hands into your coat pockets.

“How do you know something’s up?” Mark raised an eyebrow, stifling a nervous chuckle.

“You have that… thing,” you pointed to the space between your own eyebrows, hoping he would understand. He sighed, massaging that part of his face hoping to relieve the area. He tucked his own hands in his coat pockets, sighing in defeat.

“I think it’s weird you’re Satan’s kid,” he spoke quickly, the crease returning.

“No, that’s not what’s on your mind,” you simpered.

“I really thought that would work,” he muttered, looking down before stopping in his tracks. “I applied to Columbia’s creative writing program.”

“I know, you applied when we were seniors and decided to come to Knight’s Cross instead.”

“Yes, but I reapplied for a transfer and… I got in,” he whispered, raising his shoulders. You paused, surprised before you wrapped your arms around him, overwhelmed with joy and pride.

“That’s so amazing!” you cheered, letting go and jumping slightly. The frown didn’t leave his face though. “Why aren’t you more excited? That’s the best university for writing!”

“I… I have something else to tell you.” Raising an eyebrow at this, you nodded, hoping your brother would let whatever it was spill out of him. “I told Dad already. But I wanted you to hear it from me-,” he raised his hands and gripped your shoulders now, “- I don’t want Knight’s Cross College. It’s yours. It was always meant to be yours.”

This made the color immediately drain from your face and eyes widen.

“Absolutely not,” you almost shouted, walking quickly away from Mark who caught up with you and matched your pace.

“You’re the better fighter, you get along with mythics and humans- hell, you are mythic and human,” he started counting his reasoning off his fingers as if he had been rehearsing this.

“Everyone that matters in the council- who I would work with, hates me,” you countered, your mind immediately flashing to Yuta’s mother. Taking your hands out of your pocket, your left hands fingers had caught on fire, and you quickly shook it to put it out as you calmed yourself down.

“They’d hate anyone,” Mark pointed out. You both stopped now, glaring at each other. You had never given any thought to potentially becoming president of the university after your father steps down. It was always meant to be for Mark, at least that’s what you had always thought. It’s how you felt. It’s what you believed.

“I’m not even his biological kid. I’m the child of one of the worst beings in existence,” you sputtered out, looking down now at your feet as you struggled to control your emotions.’

“DNA doesn't matter, not in this case. You’re my sister, you’re our Dad’s kid, and you are meant for this,” Mark wrapped you in a bear hug then, holding you tightly.

“You think I can do this?” you asked, your voice shaking as you hugged your brother back.

“Trust me, if anyone can run a university and bridge the mythic world with the human world, it’s you.”

You were reminded of the Na prophecy, and squeezed your brother tightly. It was hard to manage your breathing but you did your best despite the fear that potentially you could lose your brother in the way Jaemin said someone would lose their life.

“Mark?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t do anything stupid,” you spoke plainly, earning a sharp chuckle from your brother.

“I won’t. Plus, I’ll visit you and Dad all the time, and call everyday,” Mark comforted, pulling back from your hug. “I’ll move after new years, so you won’t be rid of me just yet.”

Mark walked with you to the main building, gushing over his future in Columbia and how excited he is for the program as you trudged down to the basement. This time Sicheng was watching a movie when you entered, chewing through a bowl of popcorn. His demon ears were protruding today, and they wiggled slightly upon your entrance.

“So, you haven’t burned anything down in the past few hours?” He asked sarcastically, pausing the movie and placing the bowl down on the ground in front of the couch.

“My hand caught on fire, but nothing else,” you felt a little prideful when you spoke. You were afraid of your own powers, but you had to admit, it did feel good to finally feel as if you had some control over them.

“I’m a little sad to hear that,” Sicheng muttered, earning him an eye roll from both you and Mark. “Today, we’ll go over controlling the fire on your body and your full transformations.”

“Full transformation?” Mark asked for you, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep. That in the bar was her full transformation. It’s when her powers are basically maxed out, and she also has somewhat less control over them,” Sicheng explained, picking at his ears as he did so. Your confidence deflated. The feeling of uncontrollable rage and anger you felt at Deer Moon was haunting to a point that you would rather have been bogged down by the onyx necklace than transform to that again.

“I don’t know about doing a full transformation,” you admitted.

“You know I can trigger it easily right?” he taunted, smirking at you. Your eyes widened, ready to step back and flee from the basement before Sicheng began laughing. “I wouldn’t trigger it like that, you fool. At least, not without Mark here having the extinguisher ready.”

“Don’t be an ass,” Mark scowled, stepping towards the corner of the room and grabbing a full fire extinguisher.

“All right, so let’s get started with you firing up that right hand.”

The next few hours were just as grueling as the previous training had been. While sometimes you could successfully light certain parts up in the sequence Sicheng would give them to you, managing them consistently proved to be a bit of a challenge. It didn’t help that the more you purposefully lit up Satan’s flames, the more an anger began to boil at your core. Relying on channeling your anger was proving to be exhausting, but it was necessary in order to manage your flames- or at least, that’s what Sicheng would say.

Again, you left that night with Mark, covered head to toe in the extinguisher powder.

“You did good today,” Mark comforted, watching as you shivered in your coat and pouted on your walk to your dorm.

“I hate this,” you admitted, dusting some of the powder out of your hair.

“I know,” was all he could respond, patting your shoulder. “I’m gonna head to the night dorm for a bit- figure I should tell Johnny and Ten that I’ll be leaving now that you know.” He ruffled your hair, removing some of the dust, before bounding off along the night dorm path.

Walking closer to your dorm, there were very few students around since most went home for the holiday break. Yet, there was a familiar body perched on the bench nearest to your dorm.

“I thought you wouldn’t make it tonight,” you smiled brightly, admiring how even in the horrible outside lighting, he still looked incredibly handsome.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he chirped, handing you a small bouquet of your favorite flowers before pressing a small kiss on your forehead. You were so surprised and ecstatic to see Yuta. It had been more difficult than you would have liked. With Yuta constantly being whisked off to meetings, and the few precious moments you two had being preoccupied with other issues, it made your heart sing to see that he still wanted to surprise you in such a way.

“This is so sweet,” you whispered, looking between him and the bouquet in your hand.

“Well, I was hoping I could take you out tonight?” he proposed, swiping a hand over your hair, likely in an attempt to dust off some powder.

Your heart skipped a beat.  “I would love that.”

It seems that Yuta didn’t have a car, or not one at the school, since he led you to Jaemin’s car and held the keys.

“He offered to let me borrow it before I could ask,” he explained, earning a small chuckle from you.

“I spoke to Kun and Jungwoo today,” Yuta began, starting the car and driving out from the student parking lot. “They told me about this prompt you wrote in high school.” Your eyes widened as you immediately knew what he was referencing.

In high school, whenever you were in a boring class, you tended to assign yourself random writing prompts and scribble out a few paragraphs for it. Thanks to poor timing and bad luck, Jungwoo and Kun found one prompt you had written in which you detailed your dream date with a celebrity you had a crush on at the time.

“I’m gonna kill them,” you muttered, already writing out the message to them in your head.

“Don’t- because it gave me the perfect idea,” Yuta giggled. After a few minutes, you pulled into a small parking lot of an outdoor shopping mall, the mini golf sign shining as brightly as it was the last time you had been here with friends.

“I thought mini golf was a cute date idea,” you sighed, feeling embarrassed.

“I may not be that celebrity, but I hope I can make it as close to perfect as possible.”

The mini golf place was a little more full than you have liked, there being several local high schoolers and a few of your peers there. Watching Yuta pretend to be human entertained you a bit. Despite the black light, people were still taken aback by his beauty, and his polite smile to the person working the register stunned them for a moment.

“It’s weird not seeing you with your fangs,” you whispered to him, waiting to start on the first course behind another, younger couple.

“I think it’s fun, like our little secret,” he winked. “Wanna make a little wager?”

You hummed, “I’m a little competitive, I don’t know if I can handle making you cry over mini golf.” He clicked his tongue at your response, chuckling a bit then.

“I didn’t get to humble you in smash since I wasn’t there, but I certainly can take you in mini golf.”

“Fine, loser pays for dinner,” you suggested.

“I don’t even eat food,” Yuta muttered furrowing his eyebrows.

“That makes it even better.”

“Fine, if you win I’ll pay for your dinner, but if I win, you let me read your annotated copies of twilight,” he countered, causing you to groan.

“I can’t believe you’re still on that.”

“I’ll keep trying until I can,” he sang, and you gently pushed his shoulder as you laughed. Until the last portion, you and yuta had managed to maintain a tie, taunting the other whenever it was the other’s turn.

“Ah, the cursed windmill. This one usually gets people,” you teased, looking down at where the 18th hole was.

“Hm, I think I’ll be fine. You just get those books ready for me my love,” he taunted, setting himself up. You rolled your eyes, and watched as he seamlessly managed to get the golf ball through the windmill and into its designated spot in one stroke.

“I’m surprised,” you feigned sarcasm, and started to set yourself up as well, trying to angle your club properly.

“You know, you look lovely tonight,” Yuta whispered, his lips tauntingly close to your ear now. You laughed breathlessly, taken aback.

“You don’t look too bad yourself,” you replied, trying to focus again on this last shot. Yuta moved closer now, his hand resting on your shoulder and lips at an increasingly closer distance.

“If not for the other people here, I would devour you,” he hummed, his voice low. Your hands trembled now at the thought, before you stepped away and shot him a glare.

“You are the worst,” you half joked. He shot a mischievous grin, before stepping back to let you fully concentrate. Timing it as best as you could, you tapped the golf ball and held your breath to miserably watch the blades of the windmill cut off the course of the golf ball.

“Ha! I win!” Yuta cheered, raising his fists into the air.

“Barely,” you rolled your eyes, laughing softly to yourself. To everyone else at the course, you two looked like a normal, oddly competitive couple. Yuta was a normal, fang-less human and you were simply the daughter of a university president- and that was a sweet feeling.

“Do you have to read my copy of twilight?” you whined as you started out of the mini golf course.

“Kun and Jungwoo said they went through it a couple of years back and said it has given them a lifetime's worth of comedy- I have to read it,” he teased, reaching a hand out and gently pinching your cheek.

“I’m so gonna kill them,” you vowed, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Nah, you guys care about each other too much,” Yuta notes, smiling in almost a solemn way.

Pausing outside of the car, when you climbed in you asked, “Yuta, do you have any roommates? I know some people in the night dorm do share rooms.” He pursed his lips and shook his head.

“I roomed with Johnny and Ten our first semester, but… the council insisted I should have one of the single rooms,” Yuta explained, before adding, “I’ve always been friends with Johnny at least, so it didn’t affect that too much.”

“Ah,” was all you could respond, the car lulling into a silence only the hum of the radio could fill.

Stupidly, you hadn’t even thought about whether or not Yuta would continue at Knight’s Cross, nor even the future of your relationship. Had he? You stole a glance at him as he drove, his eyes glued to the road.

“You’re thinking,” he noted, not turning to look at you.

“Yeah,” you admitted, watching as the car pulled into a small parking lot.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked, parking on the side of the road and fully turning to look at you. In the dim street lighting, you could see his eyebrows were knit with concern, staring at you with his full concentration.

“I… I don’t want to lose you,” you raised a hand to stop him before he could speak, “and I hate the thought of having to share you with the rest of the mythic world. I know it’s selfish, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have said anything.” You felt embarrassed, and turned your face away.

You’ve hated these past few weeks- not being able to see each other as often as you had wanted was hard. It made it more difficult since whenever he spoke about the people he was soon to be working with, it was almost always some sort of controlling, negative way.

“Hey,” he spoke softly, his hand reaching out to gently turn your chin towards him. You covered your shock as best as possible, the red streaks having made their way down his cheeks in the few moments you turned away from him.

“It’s been tough lately, but you have to trust me. I will fix this, and I’ll always put you first. Fuck everything else,” his voice quivering with his tears. Bringing a hand up, you swiped off some of his bloodied tears, his hands moving now to hold your wrists and therefore your hands in place, burying his cheek in the palm of your hand.

“Fuck everything else,” you repeated through a whispered, small tears now making their way down your cheeks. He nodded, repeating and affirming the phrase.

Between Yuta’s face being furiously stained with his own blood, and you hardly having much of an appetite to begin with, you ended up driving back to your dorm. Helping hide his face, you made your way into your studio, giggling to yourselves.

“Ten’s here,” Yuta noted. Looking around, you didn’t see him, and turned back to Yuta with a puzzled expression. “He’s down the hall with Chenle and other humans.”

“Gosh Ten just always has to be around people,” you sighed.

“Hey, he’s good at it,” Yuta replied, smiling to himself. You moved to your small kitchen counter, grabbing and wetting a paper towel before moving back to your boyfriend. Slowly, you began passing the paper along his face and cleaning up the blood that had dripped along from his eyes to his chin.

“How come you cry your own blood?” you asked quietly, moving slowly.

“Well, since we’re half dead, blood is one of the only fluids our body produces. That’s at least what they teach us,” he explained, watching you carefully.

“Interesting. What other fluids does it produce?” you asked absentmindedly, before your eyes widened in embarrassment, his own cheeks growing into that blue hue you had seen as his eyes avoided you.

“You did that on purpose,” he muttered. He blinked quickly as if trying to be rid of the pink streaks making their way across his irises.

“I swear I didn’t,” you giggled. “You’re cleaned up now,” you declared, tossing out the towel into your trash and turning back to Yuta.

“How has your thigh healed?” he asked. You leaned your back against the counter, thinking it over.

“I haven’t paid attention to it much,” you admitted, frowning to yourself. “I guess that means it’s healed pretty well, then.”

“Hm, maybe it needs to be put there again with a little bit more... vigor,” he muttered, having now stood up, leaning against the counter and glancing over at you.

“Hm, maybe,” you hummed. Yuta leaned towards you, and quicker than he must have expected, you met his lips with yours. His lips were soft, and compared to the last few times he kissed you, there was a difference here- this lacked the fear of hurting you it seemed.

Lacking personal restraint, and a feeling of joy that his lips were roughly crashing against yours, you laced your fingers through his hair, dipping his head down more and forcing your bodies to be as close as possible.

Roughly, Yuta pulled away, his eyes having lost sight of their brown and now only showing as pink. His fangs had popped up more now, as large as they were the last few times you had been intimate.

“Please tell me if I hurt you,” he whispered. You leaned in, and quickly placed a small kiss on the tip of his nose.

“I can accidentally burn things now- you have to tell me if I hurt you,” you replied, passing a thumb over his cheek. Without thinking- and catching you severely by surprise- Yuta scooped you up, and gently tossed you over his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you giggled, trying to not shout and alert anyone outside of your dorm. Carefully, he placed your giggling self onto your bed, your hair sprawled in a disarray as you looked at your boyfriend.

“I just wanted to look at you in a better light,” he spoke, climbing the bed slowly until your eyes met, his body now hovering above yours. Slowly, he lifted one of his hands, his digits moving slowly to graze your neck, his thumb stopping to slowly circle where your neck meets your shoulder.

“Is this a better light?” you asked, your voice now in a hushed tone. Leaning down, his nose brushed against yours.

“Just as I thought,” he muttered, his nose tracing along your cheekbone until he reached your ear.

“What?”

“You look lovely in any light,” he breathed out, his breath now tickling your neck. His body was fully pressed against yours now, and you felt the chill of his fangs grazing against your throat.

“Can I bite you?” his voice was quiet still, as if he was shy. You nodded furiously, spending the rest of your evening wrapped around each other.

***

“It’s a bad omen.”

“It’s raining, Ten. It’s not the end of the world,” you chastised, following the guided trail. In preparation for the coronation, you and Mark were tasked with reinforcing some of the barriers put in place from the Vatican. While it didn’t seem to affect you and Sicheng, a demon hadn’t appeared in Knight’s Cross since.

“But Mark is leaving us, and this annoying rain? It has to mean something,” he groaned, tightening the hoodie of his windbreaker. Mark was busy packing today, and had asked Ten to cover for him. As such, the two of you were tasked with burning sage at different points around the campus.

Ignoring Ten and taking out the lighter your Dad gave you, you flicked it on, only for the flame to be blown out as soon as it hit the sage.

“See! Bad omen,” Ten repeated, crossing his arms in satisfaction. You rolled your eyes, and glanced around. Currently, you were in one of the open fields by the main building, just the two of you. Focusing and within a few seconds, the sage’s tip began to burn a bright blue, a smile making its way to your face.

“How is that for a bad omen?” you mocked, raising your hand to waft the smoke around the area, muttering the small bible verse your Dad gave to you.

“It’s incredible how the rain isn’t putting out the flame,” he noted. You shrugged in response, bringing the sage back to eye level and blowing it out just as easily as you had lit it. Instinctually, you tugged at the collar of the turtleneck you wore. It was ugly and itchy- but it was the best you could do when it came to covering up Yuta’s bites from last night. Covering the one on your thigh was easy, but covering the on your neck proved to be a challenge when you realized you didn’t own any scarves.

“That thing is hideous,” Ten noted, frowning at the shirt.

“Yeah. Anyways, where’s the next point?” you asked dryly. Ten held the awkward map your Dad had drawn and scribbled on for you guys, and he opened it up with an arm raised to try and keep the rain off.

“All right, next we have to sage outside of the night dorm,” he instructed, quickly tucking the map safely into his pocket. Boots now sloshing in the muddy ground, you guys walked side by side.

“Do you know what you’re wearing?” you asked. The coronation was three days away, and it was only this morning that you remembered that nothing you owned would qualify as a fit enough outfit for Yuta’s coronation.

“Oh yeah, my Mom got everything tailored and done as soon as it was announced. Oligarchy has to wear red and black since it’s a vampire taking the position,” he explained nonchalantly.

“Hm, so like, what would I wear?” you probed, walking ahead as Ten stopped in his tracks.

“YOU DON’T HAVE A DRESS?” he shouted, his voice blasting over the sprinkling rain.

“Hey, don’t shout!” you scolded, turning back to see his shocked face.

“Dude, you are dating the King, how do you not know what you’re wearing?” Ten had lowered his voice, but his tone was still urgent. You shrugged, walking ahead again towards the night dorm.

“I didn’t think it was that big of a deal.”

“Not a big deal? NOT A BIG- sorry, not a big deal?” he shut his eyes, as if thinking something over to himself. “You know what, maybe Chaein has something you can borrow,” he began problem solving, now walking faster than you at a pace you found difficult to match.

“I’m not borrowing a dress from Chaein,” you countered, folding your arms over your chest.

“How… oh,” his look softened then, and the most painful look appeared on his face- pity. You cringed, looking away from him. “You’ve been avoiding thinking about it, huh?” his voice was softer now.

You went to speak, but your throat croaked instead, and you clenched your jaw as you nodded in response, holding back your tears. Of course you had thought and reminded yourself of the coronation- but every time you did, your throat would close up and tears would well as they did now.

“Hey, bud, you guys are going to be okay,” Ten placed a hand on your shoulder, his voice still soft as he gently patted you.

“You don’t know that, I hardly see him now- how about when he’s running an entire kingdom! Fuck- I’m so selfish,” you choked out, passing your hands across your face in an attempt to clear your tears away.

“You aren’t selfish, and look, Yuta loves you. A whole lot- it’s kind of gross,” you looked up when Ten said this, his eyes not looking at you but at your neck. You rolled your eyes, moving a hand to raise your turtleneck higher. “Don’t bother, any vampire can tell from like a mile away that you’ve been bitten.”

“This isn’t a joke, Ten!” you lashed out, knocking his hand off your shoulder.

“I never said it- oh,” he stared at you in fear. Puzzled, you glanced down at your fists which were still normal.

“What is it?” you asked, turning around and not seeing anything.

“It’s… here,” Ten took out his phone then and handed it to you with the front facing camera on. You gasped, your eyes widening. Hovering over your head was a blue flamed halo, the flames small but shining brightly as you looked at it though his phone.

“Oh god what is this?” you panicked, reaching your hand above your head and feeling the flames. “It’s kind of cool,” Ten admitted, smirking as he watched you slowly diminish the flame.

“I can’t even cry in peace,” you groaned, rubbing your forehead in frustration. With your eyes shut, you felt a set of arms wrap around and embrace you, Ten’s cold body holding you tightly.

“Everything is going to be okay, I promise. Yuta, Mark, Johnny, me… we all have your back,” he muttered. Stunned by Ten’s affection, you held your friend in a tight hug before he let go and moved away. “That’s enough hugging, but I am here for you.”

You laughed, and started to continue walking when you saw a panic flash across Ten’s face. He turned around and you both saw Doyoung, staring at you both with a sly grin.

“I was just taking a casual stroll, you know I have to monitor my appearance before events. And, along this path, what do you know, I see a brilliant blue flame,” Doyoung teased, both you and Ten staring at him in silence.

“Blue flame? Like Satan’s? How strange!” Ten feigned, looking at you as if to also act with him.

“Cut the shit- I saw the flames over that ones-,” Doyoung angrily pointed at you, “-head.”

“You know my name!” you interjected, before quickly adding, “and I have no clue what you’re talking about.”

“Stop playing dumb!” he shouted, a set of sharp wolf ears popping up on the top of his head. Quickly, you looked over and saw Ten’s eyes flash their shade of red as he glared back at Doyoung.

“What is your problem?” you asked, stepping forward and hoping to cut through the aggressive tension rising between Ten and Doyoung. Doyoung bared his teeth then, a set of canines now exposed as he seemed to growl at you.

“You, dammit! You have no place in our world- hell, by the looks of it you aren’t even human. I could always smell that something was wrong with you,” he snapped, his eyes switching to a bright gold hue.

“I am human,” you half lied.

“No you’re not! I saw that blue flame- you are a goddamn… demon!”

“Demons don’t even produce blue flames,” Ten countered, his fangs now fully extended. Doyoung paused at this notion, before leering at you.

“So, Satan has sent his daughter to seduce the King, eh?” Doyoung taunted. You flared your nostrils and squeezed your hands into fist, doing your best to manage your breathing and stop any other possible outburst.

“I’m human, and I love Yuta,” you repeated, more to yourself than to Doyoung at this point.

“Just wait until the council finds out,” he started chuckling, his canines receding despite the protruding wolf ears and his eyes still being golden.

“You won’t be telling them shit!” Ten growled, stepping forward.

“Yeah? And who’s going to stop me?”

“Oh good, I made it just in time,” turning your heads, the interjection came from Jaemin who was sluggishly walking out from the forest, a yellow poncho contrasting with the dim atmosphere. Doyoung’s wolf ear twitched, as if trying to gauge the situation. To be fair, you too felt confused. Jaemin’s priorities didn’t lie with anyone specifically- but rather his family’s prophecy that he had sworn to uphold and protect.

“In time for what?” you asked, trying to focus on anything that wouldn’t flare up your flames and fully prove what you were.

“Oh, yeah,” Jaemin chuckled softly, before turning his attention to Doyoung, an eye turning white. “To tell you that if you ever do tell anyone what you think you saw here, you will be brutally murdered.”

The three of you were stunned, looking intently at Jaemin as if he would suddenly say he was joking. Instead, he maintained his normal stoic expression. He blinked, waiting for a response from Doyoung.

“Oh please, as if you’re telling the truth,” Doyoung crossed his arms, ears still twitching to reveal that he was unsure.

Jaemin shrugged in response. “Could be. But are you willing to take that risk?”

It was silent for a short while, the only sound now being that of the soft rain hitting the gravel path you all stood on until Jaemin moved forward.

“What you saw was a trick of the light. Just some weird lightning. It’s not worth starting… anything else over,” Jaemin added, furrowing his eyebrows. Doyoung visibly gulped, glancing over to Ten and you as if you would contradict what Jaemin had to say.

Frowning, Doyoung nodded. “It was just a trick of the light.”

“Nice. I’ll see you at the coronation,” Jaemin nodded at Doyoung, whose frown deepened before he turned into a wolf, bounding away towards the night dorm.

“How did you get him to listen?” Ten asked before you could.

“When a psychic tells you that you’re going to die horrifically, people tend to listen. They’ll even change their own memories and thoughts if they have to,” he smirked.

“Thanks Jaemin,” you replied, smiling back at the cheeky psychic.

“No need to. Just know that I’ve got your back, too.”

[snackhobi]

summary: namjoon worships you, only you, and would dedicate his life and soul to show you the depths of his love and devotion.

pairing: namjoon x f!reader / word count: 2.1k / genre: smut (NSFW, 18+), warlock!namjoon/patron!reader, sort of a fantasy!au

warnings: sexually explicit content, religious imagery/talk of worship and blasphemy, oral (f receiving), unprotected sex, talk of magic (does that need to be a warning)

this is part of my 1.1k milestone event!

a/n: @ whoever it was on my google survey who wanted to see a fantasy!au and also wanted to see more stuff with namjoon- this is dedicated to you! I swore I wasn’t going to even think about things for my 1.1k milestone but I saw your response and immediately got hit with inspo; I’m sure this isn’t what you were asking for when you said fantasy but! I hope you like it anyway! unbeta-ed bc I smashed this out in an afternoon and @hobi-gif​ is asleep rn and I’m impatient OOPS

“You give me too much.”

“Oh?” The sound of your voice, heavenly, shining. Dripping with amusement. Affection. “You would spurn my favour?”

“Never,” Namjoon whispers. A confession, each word a benediction. “Never, my lady.”

The sound of your laughter, smooth and light. You tilt your head, bare the unspoiled column of your neck, shimmering, glimmering, glittering. Your skin shines with the finest fragrant oils, dusted with ground gold leaf, iridescent. Your body gilded and girded, as always, in the finest cloth and metal and jewels, reclining, utterly at ease. Glowing with your divine power; divine grace.

Divine beauty.

Divine.

Namjoon is blessed, to have you as his Patron. 

For all that his words are audacious, you do not strike him down. Him, a mere mortal, sworn to your service; you’ve always allowed him space to speak, to talk. Far more than he deserves, nothing better than the dust under your feet, marring the ground that should be unblemished and clean for you.

“I wish but to reward you, dearest,” you murmur, and a shiver trickles down Namjoon’s spine.

His soul is sworn to yours in a never-ending pact, magic tied intrinsically to you, his Patron, his Goddess, the source of his power. A warlock whose oath promises his utter devotion—blessed, he truly is blessed to be able to call himself yours. Where others had given their souls to the dark beings of the nether, begging for power, strength—here Namjoon is, in your heavenly aureole, not fey nor fiend, but a deity.

His deity.

“I would never be so presumptuous, my lady,” says Namjoon.

“And I would reward you for your humility. Is that not what you want, Namjoon? Is that not why you swore yourself to me? To be rewarded with the powers that you now command?”

Namjoon is monstrously powerful, now. He’s always been intelligent and sharp and quick, but now—with you at his shoulder—he’s far, far more than that. The fabric of the universe picks itself apart at his will, with your guiding hand, and reforms itself as he sees fit. Mere mortals tremble as he passes, a behemoth draped in endless strength, so strong it shines out from him, always.

An endless reminder of his devotion to you.

He’d always chased knowledge. Found himself still ravenous for it, even after plundering the world’s greatest libraries, learning from the best and brightest, from wizards in their lofty towers to witches in haunted forests; it had set him on this path. Had led him to opening this connection, creating this pact, binding himself to your will, all in the pursuit of more, more, more. His parents had always warned him to be careful, cautious, not to ask for more than the world was willing to give—but the world hadn’t blessed him with magic, for all his intelligence.

So he’d looked for magic in an otherworldly place.

And there: he’d found you.

There, he’d sworn his being to your will, for just a drop of your power. He’d laid himself down at your mercy and you’d given him all the strength he’d never wanted and more besides. Given him more than he’d asked for, more than he deserves, frail and mortal and weak that he is.

“I would give my soul just to lay myself at your feet, my lady,” Namjoon confesses.

You smile. So pleased with him, always; it leaves him breathless, even as his knees ache from kneeling, marble cold and hard under him. Your eyes are the only ones he prostrates himself in front of, now. You are the only one he will kneel for.

And oh, he kneels so willingly. Would worship you on his belly if that’s what you asked, would crawl in the dirt if that’s what you wished; would give you everything he has and more, hand over fist, if he could. Utterly beholden to you, bewitched, body and soul.

You are benevolent to him, for all that your smiles are edged with something almost irreverent, a mockery of the shining halo that’s settled atop your head. A trickster God, maybe, an ancient being long gone from the history books, your name etched into wax tablets that have long since crumbled to dust, carvings sat atop pedestals that have been long eroded to time. 

He might have cared, once. Might have sought to find you, your name, find out what exactly you are, what the price he is to pay for the power you give him. But now?

Namjoon finds he no longer cares, enthralled as he is. 

“Then come, my love,” you murmur. “Closer.”

Namjoon trembles. When he kneels at your feet, head tilted, staring at your bared skin, the arch of your feet, the jut of your ankles, the smoothness of your calves, the swell of your thighs before they’re hidden away from his roaming eyes by the drape of linen; he trembles. He is so close he can touch you, can smell you, the fragrance massaged into your body, heady and dizzying.

“Worship me, then,” you say, that ever-present smile on your lips.

“I would not dare touch you, my lady,” Namjoon says.

You throw your head back and laugh. Namjoon stares at the line of your bare throat, the slope of your breasts, curves barely hidden, blindingly white robe slipping as your gold painted shoulders shake in mirth. White and gold, gold and white, unflawed, perfect.

“Are you so afraid of me?”

“Never.” Namjoon’s heart is pounding, pulsing in his ears. “I dare not defile you with my unworthy hands.”

“And if I commanded you so?” An eyebrow, raised, a question. “Would you refuse your Goddess her dues?”

“I am not worthy,” Namjoon says, even as he aches. Even as you spread your legs, draping cloth keeping you just safe from his eyes, hungry as they are. “I would dirty you, my lady.”

“Such as it is.” Your voice is low, almost gleeful. Delighted. “Touch me, Namjoon.”

He kisses your feet first. Bows his head, lips trembling as he presses them to the top arch of your foot. Your ankles. Lets his eyes flutter shut as he trails his unworthy lips across your warm skin, pressing his devotion into your body with his mouth.

And when you beckon for him with a lazy curl of your hand, he goes, so easily. Pulls off each of your rings, lets them fall, bright rain that falls forgotten to cool marble. Casts aside the circlet on your head, spinning as it lands on cold stone. Pulls his hands across your bare collarbones, pulls your robe apart, pulls your naked body out into the open. 

There’s no shame here, in your nakedness, majestic and proud, every inch of your body swathed with heavy, divine power.

Your lips are cocked in a smile. You blink up at him, lazy and slow and content, amused at his shaking fingers and almost-slack mouth, overwhelmed.

“Am I so awe-inspiring?”

“The moon and stars and sun shine less than your beauty,” Namjoon murmurs, and you laugh.

He falls to his knees. Buckles in the face of your strength and beauty, as he always does. Always will.

When he presses his head between your legs, you moan. The smell of your arousal thrums under the jasmine rubbed into your skin, an orgy in a summer garden, and you taste so human, gasping at the first swipe of his tongue through your folds. You scrape your fingers through his hair, pressing him deeper; Namjoon feels he could die happy, here, between your thighs, so blessed and favoured, to be allowed to worship you, as perfect as you are. His cock hardens between his legs, ignored and neglected, so focused and intent on you. Forgets himself in the face of giving you everything you demand.

Beckoned into the embrace of something holy, here he is, defiling you with each curl of his tongue, each touch of his fingers. And he willingly commits these transgressions, reverent even as you come apart under his touch, venerating you as an idol, rather than a Goddess. Drinks down the way you shake in pleasure, pupils blown and swallowing your beautiful irises, your piercing gaze lust-hazed.

“You worship your Goddess well,” you praise.

And when you push him down onto your throne, astride his hips with glittering eyes and an arched back, Namjoon thinks this is profane. Thinks that he should not feel so starved or deprived, even as you sink down on him, tight and hot and wet. And yet each gasp he pulls from you is a blessing from the divine, for all that this is carnal, the slap of skin on skin, the thrust of his cock into your fluttering cunt.

Even the kisses you share are a violation of you; he is not worthy to touch you, to press his lips against yours. But you urge him to, urge him to lick at your mouth, bite at your lips, kiss-swollen and flush, parted as you pant into his open, willing mouth.

You throw your head back in ecstasy. Each lilting noise pulled from your lips goes straight to Namjoon’s throbbing cock, blood thrumming in his veins as he thrusts up into you, chasing your pleasure, pliant under the scratch of your fingernails, the grasp of your hands.

“Do you—oh—do you love your Goddess, Namjoon?” 

“To not do so would be blasphemy.” It’s graceless, the way he speaks, grunts slipping out between gritted teeth. Utterly human and base as you take him, ride him, reach inside and wrap your fingers around his heart and soul, already yours.  As if your naked skin pressed against each other isn’t blasphemy enough; your movements in the throes of passion and ecstasy isn’t sacrilegious. 

You keep your eyes trained on Namjoon’s face, bracing your fingertips on his sweat-slick chest as you arch back, imperious and regal; Namjoon might have taken you apart with his fingers and tongue, but you’re the mistress of this kingdom and you know it.

When you trail a finger over the swell of Namjoon’s reddened, plush bottom lip, it feels almost taunting. The gesture itself might be soft, tender—but Namjoon remembers that he doesn’t know what you’re a Goddess of, all over again. Remembers that he doesn’t know the source of your power, what you really are, that he doesn’t even know your true name. 

(Remembers that he doesn’t know if you’re a Goddess at all.)

(He remembers. Doesn’t care. You’re his Goddess, before you are anything else. You’re his Goddess and he is devoted to you, forever, always.)

“Mine.” You suck in a breath, air punched out of you as Namjoon slams into you again, hard and sharp and fast, sullying you. His palms are covered in gold, smeared over your body and his, the carved marble of the throne underneath you. Dirty; tarnished. “Mine, mine, you’re mine, little mortal, aren’t you?”

Namjoon is utterly yours.

“Yours,” he moans. “Yours, my lady, I’m yours.”

You laugh even as you cum again, hiccupping as you grin at him, wicked and sharp. You’re so tight around him, hot around his aching cock, and it doesn’t take long to lose himself in your heat, painting your insides; defiling even there, too. The proof of Namjoon’s impure touch dribbles down your thigh as you lift away, sated, your smile all edged with teeth.

“My most loyal follower, humblest of my servants.” You trail a cool finger around his face, through the sweat at his brow, dirtying your hands even more. And yet, in Namjoon’s eyes you still shine, untouched and perfect, his wonderful Goddess. “Oh, your soul always tastes so sweet, Namjoon. Will you always worship me with such piety? Will you always come when I call?”

To know his taste lingers on your tongue, even when he’s not there, fills him with pride. Flows in his chest, swelling in size, pressing against his ribs and lungs and heart, squeezing those delicate parts so tight, squashing them small. There’s no room for anything inside him other than devotion for you.

“Always,” Namjoon replies. “I would always be your most favoured, if you wished.”

“Do you love me?”

“Yes,” Namjoon confesses. “Yes, my lady, with all that I am.”

Would spend the rest of his days on his hands and knees at the base of your shrine, lay out offerings at your feet. Would lay himself on your altar, a willing sacrifice. Would let you tear him apart and swallow his still beating heart; it’s yours, anyway. He doesn’t need it anymore.

Yes, Namjoon loves you. Most ardently. Even if it comes with a price: his soul, bound to yours, forever.

taglist: @beyoncesdragon​ 

[georgina-creative-enquiry]

Although the main themes of Something Wicked This Way Comes include morality, the passing of time and ageing, and the overall struggle of good vs. evil, I want to focus on a much smaller, much more personally impactful section of the book. Found in chapter 38, the protagonists Jim and Will, along with Jim’s father, Charles Halloway, are discussing the carnival that had arrived in town. He remembers a religious passage he read as a child, Beware The Autumn People, which describes the sinister repeated occurrences of the carnival always arriving decades apart in the month of October.

“For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ’s birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer. For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond. Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars. They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In guts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles – breaks. Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.”

Ray Bradbury, Something Wicked This Way Comes. Page 192, Chapter 38.

I first read the book during quite a tumultuous time in my life, and despite the quote describing the antagonist, I couldn’t help but feel that it described me in some way too. It felt as though I was reading the most poetic description imaginable for all that I felt towards myself that I’d never even dare say out loud. This description of an autumn person, grotesque, inhuman, a husk, a vessel where humanity should be but is not, it so aggressively appealed to me that I’ve never once forgotten it.

After reading the book again, I decided to incorporate this into my summer making project, along with focusing on representing those deep-seated feelings towards myself, utilising the imagery the quote provides.

[harringrovetrashrat]

Intercrurral prompt: Billy’s been harassing Steve all year, and it’s taking everything Steve has not to think bisexual thoughts about the guy he HATES. But one night, wrong place and wrong time, where they run into each other in the woods while Steve is on demodog patrol and Billy is escaping a bad run-in with Neil. Things boil over - the biggest imagery I have is Billy harshly whispering in Steve’s ear “Tell me you want this. TELL me you want ME.”

Okay, okay, okay

Here we GO.  Alright.  It took me a moment to find just the right way to do this, but I finally got it.

And it somehow ended up over 3k, whoooops. Let’s hope the read more actually works this time lol

TW for one use of the f-slur and misogynist language from Billy.

--

Steve ran a hand over his face as he stomped through the trees.  The cold February air bit at his skin, made his nose run.  Steve sniffed for what felt like the millionth time, still unable to stop the jittering in his bones.  He couldn’t go home.  Things felt too still, too quiet tonight.  Something was going to happen.  Steve could feel it.

He twirled the bat again, stretching out his fingers.  The trees were dark against the snow, the cloudless night allowing the moon to shine in through breaks in the trees.  Steve bit his lip, thinking about the day.  It sent a spike of warmth to his gut and he frowned, annoyed with himself.

It wasn’t much different than normal.  He spent the day tailing after Nancy and Jonathan, ignoring Tommy when he passed him in the hall, and trying to keep his dick to behave whenever Billy pressed up against him.  Or pushed him.  Or teased him.  Or fucking looked at him, jesus.  Steve had a problem and he really didn’t want to have it.  He’s looked at guys before, done stuff before, but of all fucking people, his dick had to be interested in Billy fucking Hargrove.

He’d prefer his dick be interested in Jonathan.

There was a snap from a few meters ahead in the trees and Steve froze, all thoughts exiting his brain.  His blood pumped through his veins and his pulse skyrocketed as he adjusted his grip on the bat.  He quietly made his way forward, looking through the brush for anything weird.  Anything slimy.  There were some dark spots on the ground that Steve followed, panic clawing its way into his chest.

“Fuck!” He heard someone hiss.  The sound came from in front of him and Steve relaxed minutely.  It wasn’t demodogs.

That didn’t mean there wasn’t still a threat.

Steve did his best to make sure his shoes didn’t crunch too much in the snow as he approached a clearing.  Someone was sitting on a log, hunched over on themselves, but they looked human enough.  There wasn’t any weird smell, nothing too obviously weird, so Steve lowered the bat.

“Hello?” The person on the log jumped, standing and whirling around, fists up and ready.  Bruised as well.  Which was why Steve wasn’t surprised to find himself looking at Billy Hargrove.

A messed up Billy Hargrove.

He had a black eye and a bloody nose, with what looked like a small cut at his hairline.  Steve kind of wished he hadn’t said anything.  Billy relaxed minutely, face scrunching into a sneer.

“Harrington?  What the fuck are you doing out here?  Mommy and Daddy playing house?” Steve ignored the sting, flaring his nostrils as he flexed his hand around the bat.  Billy’s eyes darted down before widening.  “What the fuck?” His voice lost it’s teasing edge, verging into actually scared.

“Oh,” Steve said, not wanting to drop the bat in case he needed it.  For whatever reason.  “Just-- On a walk.”

“On a walk?” Billy droned, unimpressed.  “Really?  Do you think I’m a fucking idiot?” Steve bristled and whatever was in the air that night pressed him forward, made him confrontational.

“Maybe,” he replied.  Billy tensed up, nostrils flaring as he grit his teeth.  “Smart people don’t come out here at night.” Billy barked out a mean laugh.

“S’Why you’re out here then, huh?” Steve stopped a few feet away, slinging the bat over his shoulder.  Now that he was closer, he could see that Billy’s cut was still bleeding.  Could see that his wounds were fresh.  That he was shaking.

“Seriously,” Steve said.  “The woods around here aren’t safe.”

“Safer than other places,” Billy grumbled angrily.  He looked up at Steve, eyes sharp.  “If they’re so unsafe, why are you out here for a walk?” Steve’s mind went blank as he grasped for a reason.

“I-- Well, I mean--”

“You out here meeting some fag lover?” Billy said, smile sharp and mean.  Steve clenched his fist, cheeks going ruddy.  Billy tilted his head, pushing his cheek out with his tongue.  Steve couldn’t help the way his eyes were drawn there.

“No,” he replied, stony.  “Honestly just out for a walk.”

“Really?  You and Creep Byers don’t meet up when Wheeler’s being too much of a bitch?” Steve gripped the bat tightly, scowling.

“Don’t call her that,” he snapped.  Billy snorted, hiding a grimace, and rolled his eyes.

“She left you, man,” he said.  “And you follow her and her new boyfriend around like a fucking lost dog.” Steve felt his cheeks heating up again, felt a blush creeping down his neck.

“Fuck you,” he said.  “It’s called having friends, ever heard of it?” Billy sneered, getting up into Steve’s space.  It made it a little hard to think, having him this close.  Close enough that Steve could see where Billy would freckle in the sun, how blue his eyes were, could fucking smell him.  He pushed the thoughts down, ignoring the heat in belly, just from having Billy close.  Stupid dick.

“You think you’re so above everyone, everything, don’t you?” Steve rolled his eyes, letting the bat fall to his side.  Billy wasn’t a threat, not really.  Not worthy of the bat at least.

“What’s your issue, man?” Steve asked.  Billy shoved him a little, making Steve take a step back.

“You’re my issue, Harrington,” he snapped.  “And I told you to fucking plant your feet.”

“What the fuck did I ever--”

“Your fucking existence fucking pisses me off!” Billy shoved him again, harder this time, and Steve let out a grunt, dropping the bat.  “You’ve got a fucking family that gives a shit, you’ve got fucking money, you’ve got fucking everything, and you--” Billy punctuated each reason with a shove, pushing until Steve was back up against a tree.  When he cut himself off, something flashed over his face.  Worry, fear, Steve wasn’t sure, but it was gone as soon as it was there.  “You, Harrington, just piss me off.”

“You don’t know shit about me, Hargrove,” Steve snapped, trying to push him off.  Billy pushed back, pinning him against the tree.  Steve let out a grunt, freezing up as Billy’s pressed up closer, getting into Steve’s face.  This was… dangerous.  Steve was already chubbing up in his pants and he swallowed thickly, giving some more frantic shoves to Billy’s shoulders.  “Fucking get off,” he said, voice high and pitchy.  Billy sneered, shoving Steve to the ground, standing above him.

“You’re such a fucking pussy,” he sneered.

“At least I’m not some fucking violent freak,” Steve said, sharp and cutting and cruel.  It’s what he wanted to be, in that moment.  Billy did that to him.  Brought out the King Steve who was mean, alone, and hurt.  And the words worked.  Billy snarled, jerking Steve up off the ground.  Steve grabbed at Billy’s hands, stumbling.

“Fuck you,” Billy hissed.  He gave Steve a shake, shoving him into another tree, slamming a hand next to his face.  Steve’s chest heaved with anxiety and, unfortunately, arousal.  He kind of had a thing for being manhandled.  At least, being manhandled by Billy.  The blonde pressed close, hurt shining in his eyes behind the fury.  It threw Steve for a bit of a loop.  “Fuck.  You.” Billy repeated, voice wobbling.  He pushed at Steve, pressing him up against the tree, before pausing.  His eyes widened and Steve flushed.  It was bound to happen, but Steve had held out some childish hope that Billy wouldn’t notice he’d been sporting a boner for a little while.  “What--”

“You’ve made your point--” Steve tried, tense as he tried to sink into the tree.

“Are you hard?” Billy asked.  Steve swallowed and closed his eyes, wishing the world could swallow him up.  “Seriously?”

“I’m not talking with you about this,” Steve squeaked, trying to move away.  Billy pinned him even more against the tree, sliding a leg between Steve’s thighs.  He let out an involuntary whimper.

“You are,” Billy said, almost with wonder.  Steve opened his eyes, meeting Billy’s blue ones.  They were calculating, stripping him down, and it made Steve shiver.  Billy’s tongue flicked over his bottom lip and his mouth curled up at the side.  “Is it from the lack of pussy?  Not enough girls begging to wet your dick?”

“Why are you so gross,” Steve breathed, closing his eyes again.  “It’s not-- Just drop it--”

“Oh, so you only get like this,” Billy trailed a finger over Steve’s clothed dick, making him let out a choked cry, “For me?” Steve’s eyes snapped open and Billy grinned.  There was something hungry in his eyes that made something hot curl through Steve, made him breath a little harder.  But, well, this was Billy.  He was probably fucking with him.

“Fuck off,” Steve breathed out, finding it hard to control his voice.  He tried to push at Billy’s shoulders, tried to avoid those piercing eyes, but Billy caught his face in one hand, making Steve look at him.  He slowly pushed his thumb into Steve’s mouth, pulling it open.  The salty taste of his skin on Steve’s tongue made him breathe harder, chest heaving, pupils dilating.

God he was gonna get the shit beat outta him for this.

“I thought I was,” Billy began, trailing off.  He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, tongue peeking out as he looked in Steve’s eyes, at his mouth, still open and panting.  Gripped Steve through his pants, making his legs tremble.  He was grateful for the tree behind him, that was for sure, otherwise he might have stumbled from his legs turning into jelly.  Steve’s chest heaved, nervous and aroused, and Billy exhaled heavily through his nose.

“Thaw yoo were wha?” Steve asked, breathy and mangled from Billy still holding his mouth open, thumb pressed against Steve’s tongue.

“The way you look at me,” Billy said, eyes heated now, hungry, almost rabid with want.  “Thought I was imagining it.  But this,” he rubbed over Steve’s erection again, making him tremble, “Suggests that maybe I wasn’t.” Steve stared at Billy, dick throbbing.  Billy licked over his bottom lip, almost unconsciously.  His eyes flicked down to Steve’s bulge, a weird groan escaping him.  It made Steve’s dick twitch in his jean almost painfully.  Billy’s eyes widened and his eyes snapped back up to Steve’s.

“‘illy,” Steve tried, still unable to speak clearly with that thick fucking thumb on his tongue.

“God,” Billy groaned, shaking again, but with restraint.  Like he was trying not to touch Steve more than he was already.  “You’re so fucking-- You want this, don’t you?” Steve tried to shake his head, to deny the fucking obvious truth.  “You want my dick in your mouth?  Stretching those pretty pink lips?” And god, Steve did.  He’d never had a dick in his mouth but god, did he want.  He nodded, weakly.  Billy tsked, pulling Steve’s mouth open more, until it almost hurt.  His dick shouldn’t have liked it as much as it did but, well.  “No no, Harrington,” Billy crooned.  “Use your words.” He leaned in, lips brushing against Steve’s ear as their bodies pressed together.  Steve couldn’t feel the cold, couldn’t feel anything but the heat of Billy’s body pressed against him.  Of his erection pressing against Steve’s thigh.  Fuck.  “Tell me you want this,” he hissed, breath puffing against Steve’s ear, sending goosebumps across his body.  He gave a full body shiver, could practically feel Billy’s grin against his lobe, a wet tongue slowly following the shell.  Steve felt like he couldn’t breathe and he never wanted it to stop.  “Tell me you want me.”

“‘uck , ‘illy,” Steve wheezed, arching his back so their hips ground together, eliciting a moan from himself and a hiss from Billy.  “Ye, ye, p’ease.” Billy’s hand fell out of his mouth, one hand gripping Steve’s hip as the other made quick work of his belt and zipper.  There was a damp spot on the outside of his jeans, the inside of his underwear sticky from where he had been steadily leaking, and Billy’s sharp inhale made Steve groan.  Billy looked at him, eyes hazy with lust as he licked his palm, maintaining eye contact as his gripped Steve’s dick, freed from the confines of his clothes.  Steve’s eyes fluttered closed and his mouth opened in a silent gasp as he tilted his head back, thunking against the tree.  “Fuck,” he whined, hands gripping Billy’s biceps.

“I fucking knew it,” Billy hissed, leaning to press open mouthed kisses to Steve’s neck.  The heat of Billy mixed with the cold, harsh air, drove Steve fucking mad.  His head was foggy, filled to the brim with Billy.  “Every time I shoved you, fucking every time I looked at you, I could see it.” Steve gasped as Billy latched onto his neck, biting and sucking.  It was so different than anything Steve had experienced, even with the guys he’d fooled around with.  Billy was rough, yet somehow still gentle, still attentive.  His hand was slow, leisurely stroking Steve and swiping the head with his thumb.  Steve wasn’t sure he’d still be upright if it wasn’t for Billy holding him up against the tree.

“See what?” He gasped.

“That you wanted me,” Billy replied, breath hot against Steve’s neck.  “Wanted me to shove you, touch you.” Steve was dripping, shaking as Billy teased him.  “You know how long I’ve wanted to do this to you?” Billy whispered against Steve’s skin.  Steve shook his head, unable to make his voice work.  “Since that fucking party.  Wanted to fucking claim you.” Steve found that he really, really wanted that too.

“Then do it,” he rasped, one shaky hand coming up to tangle in the hair at the nape of Billy’s neck.  Billy’s hand faltered before pulling away.  Steve whined, head tilting back down to look.  Billy looked almost feral, eyes wild and face flushed.  He made quick work of his jeans, pulling out his cock, angry and red and hard.  Steve’s mouth fucking watered.  Billy held his hand up, the one slick with Steve’s precum, and ordered,

“Lick.” Steve didn’t need to be told twice.  He ran his tongue over Billy’s hand, getting it wet and spit slick.  Billy watched, breathing hard through his nose, before he pulled his hand away, using the other to turn Steve around.  “Pants at your knees, pretty boy.” His voice was low, husky, and Steve would do whatever he said.  He could feel it, the need to obey.  He’d never wanted to just let someone have their way with him, use him, but he found himself imagining Billy, relaxed as he ordered Steve to please him.  He shuddered at the thought.  Steve shimmied his jeans and underwear down, leaning against the tree and looking over his shoulder.  Billy was stroking himself slowly, letting drool spill down his tongue and onto his dick until is was wet, dripping with saliva.  Steve groaned.

“I’m not--  I’ve never--”

“Don’t you worry,” Billy said, hands gripping Steve’s cheeks as he squatted, pulling them apart.  “When I fuck you, it’s gonna be thorough.  Gonna open you on my fingers until you beg for me to stuff you with my cock.” And then he licked a hot, wet stripe from Steve’s perineum all the way up to his hole, circling the rim.

“Oh holy shit,” Steve cried, hips jerking back.  He felt Billy’s chuckle against his skin.  He lost himself in the sensation of Billy’s tongue, his mouth, licking and sucking at Steve’s taint and thighs until they were slick and wet.  The sound he made, primal and needy, when Billy stood, almost made him embarrassed.  He was too horny though.

“Clench those thighs for me, King,” Billy said, pressing a kiss to one of Steve’s back dimples.  Steve shuddered, but did as he was told.  When he felt Billy’s dick slide against the crease of his legs, he gasped, fingers clenching against the bark of the tree.  The head of Billy’s cock slowly pushed in, gliding through the spit, now warmed by Steve’s skin.  It was veiny, thick, and velvety soft against the meat of Steve’s thighs.  When the tip brushed against the back of his balls, Steve whimpered, biting his lip.  Billy’s hand was tight, bruising against his hip.  The other came and pulled Steve’s hair, tilting his head back so he couldn’t hide any noises.

“Please, please, please,” Steve rambled, mind blanking out except for Billy.  The feel of him between his thighs, the smell of his cologne, fuck, even the rough denim of his jeans against the back of his thighs.  He didn’t even know what he was begging for.  Billy let out a long, rumbling groan.

“Jesus fuck,” Billy said, voice sounding as wrecked as Steve felt.  His hips snapped forward, slapping against Steve’s thighs and ass, and Steve gasped, fingers painfully gripping at the tree bark.  He hadn’t expected it, but the glide of Billy’s dick against his thighs was incredible.  The way the head tickled the back of his balls, the way he could feel Billy’s dick leaking precum, sliding it around as he made Steve’s thighs slicker and slicker.  Steve clamped them as tightly as he could, getting an aborted moan for his efforts.  He grinned as Billy moved faster, hips slamming against Steve, forcing high pitched moans out every time.  “Look at you,” Billy rumbled.  “So fuckin’ pretty like this, Harrington.  Bent over like the needy little bitch you are.” Steve should have bristled at the words, should have pushed Billy away, but something inside him went white hot in pleasure.  Made his cock drip.

Like most things Steve was discovering about himself, it came down to Billy.  If anyone else tried it, he’d hate it.  But, fuck.  Billy made it sound like the best thing in the world.

“Yeah,” Steve breathed out.  “Fuck yeah I am.” Billy let out a sound that made heat burst in Steve’s groin, brought him even closer to the edge.  His hips shuttered, moving wildly until he slammed himself against Steve, curling down and pressing his forehead against Steve’s back as he came.  Steve moved one hand down, jerking himself off almost painfully fast.  The feeling of spit and cum, warm against his skin, cooling rapidly in the air, was almost too much.  Billy moved to pull away but Steve whined, making him stop.  “Just--  Stay there.”

“Jesus,” he heard Billy whisper.  And like that, Steve came, painting the tree in white stripes of spunk.  He cried out, loud where Billy had been quiet, muffling his sounds.  Steve was loud, he knew that, but he reached obscene levels as he trembled, orgasm making him nearly black out.

They stayed that way, panting as their sweat rapidly cooled.  Billy finally pulled away, hands leaving Steve and he missed the feeling immediately.

God he was so fucked.

Steve didn’t turn around as he caught his breath, shakily using the tree to stand erect.  He pulled up his jeans, not bothering to clean up.  Wasn’t sure he wanted to admit to himself that he wanted the feeling of cum and spit sticking to his skin, dampening his jeans and underwear, dirty and so fucking hot.  When he turned around, Billy had his back to him, the sound of his zippo clicking loud in the wake of what they’d just done.

“Uhm,” Steve began, because, like, where do you go from here?

“We can keep this under wraps,” Billy said, back still to Steve.  He let out a cloud of smoke, thicker in the cold air.  Steve noticed the tension in his shoulders, in his voice, and he swallowed, wondering if he’d fucked up.

“Yeah,” Steve said, fingers twitching nervously against his thigh.  “But uh,” he took a sharp inhale, forcing the words out, “My parents aren’t usually home so, you know, if you ever wanna like, let off some steam--”

“Aw, Harrington,” Billy teased, finally turning around.  “You like my dick that much?” Steve wasn’t sure what it was, but something told him he needed to be honest.  To tell the truth, or Billy’d run and never look back.

“Yeah,” he replied, honest.  Billy’s eyes widened and his mouth went a little slack.  But the attraction and want that shone in his eyes let Steve know he’d made the right choice.  “Maybe next time you can let me choke on it.”