#i thought god was hanging out in my room in the body of a moth. i dont even believe in god? also thought gremlins were following me.

[non-un-topo]

Perfectly timed manic writing phase because the sun just started to come up after I wrote this 🥺 And the birds too 🥺

[milkzoro]

fuck around & find out

summary: y/n is curious to how aces devil fruit powers work

a/n: i wanted to do ace cuz first, uhmm that’s my man. and second!!! the vibes are sooo fall rn & i love the cold weather,,,, so enjoy <3

warnings: MDNI, pussy eating, backshots, cowgirl, soft!ace (i luv him)

☆彡

~

it’s the cold months on the ship that have you cravinggggg some warmth, whether that be from your heated blankets, your warm coffee in the mornings, or late night fires with the crew… you just loved the warmth, especially this time of year. the ocean was getting colder the more up north we sailed causing freezing mists to come up and hit the deck. you’ve been hanging around ace more often too, attracting to him like a moth to a lamp. while he was back on board, you took advantage of your friendly little flame~

you are laying together with ace all cuddled up and cozy in his bed, he has a campfire scented candle burning brightly in the corner of his room. admiring the man before you makes your tummy feel warm and nostalgic.

he has you so close, arms pressed side to side as you’re both laid against the pillows resting on the back of his headboard. one of his hands start to peak out of the blankets, he stretches his fingers before hyping you up, getting you ready for his next move. “mkay i call this,,,, wizard fingers.” you can never take him seriously, your cheeks are so sore from all the smiles he’s stolen from you. wizard fingers??? this can’t be real.

ace wiggles his fingers before you as you see each one of them ignite with small little flame. you giggle. “shouldn’t they be called lighter fingers? you literally look like you’re about to go burn a candle.” he groans next to you. “oh my god y/n. you didn’t let me finish!” you stare at his hands as he starts to manipulate each of the flames from his fingers.

he pulls four of them back into his fist leaving just his index finger ignited. the flame starts to form little letters. each flash was a letter from your name. flash. flash. flash. you smile even more, he’s such a dork.

“it’s pretty cool, i know.” he smirks “wasn’t like i was even practicing or anything.” you think he’s so full of himself but you can’t help but admire, he warms your heart. your cold hands are on his body as he still has you close. his powers are so interesting. all of this came from just eating a fruit? you can’t contain your thoughts as you think of all the possibilities, he’s so warm.

maybe it was the skin on skin that were feeding your delusions but you couldn’t stop yourself from thinking of what he feels like.

he tucks his hands back away under the covers moving to hold your hands in his. you still haven’t answered him, your mind was still deep in the clouds. “okay maybe i was practicing,, getting it legible was kinda hard.” he laughed and you felt his chest move against your arm. “hmm?” you recollect your thoughts. ace looks at you. “were you for real not listening, y/n. that was cool! right!?” he looks at you to make sure you are finding this entertaining. “ahh sorry just not thinking right haha-” you mumbled and he looked puzzled, he shifted under the blankets to wrap his arms around you and pull you in a hug. his chin rested on the top of your head. “what do you mean.” his body burned hotter trying to warm you up.

“jus thinking about you- err well your devil fruit powers.” you curse yourself. but glad that you’re faced with his chest instead so that he couldn’t see the embarrassment on your face right now. he laughed at you again. “what’s so special y/n. i just get warm. ‘m happy you like it though.” his arms tighten around you, squeezing you softly. your tummy was doing flips again, the way he had a grip on you sent shivers to your core. the feeling of his firm, scorching arms had you craving more from him. you knew he was teasing you though. he always would, he knew how much you loved his fiery touch and playful behaviors.

you’re face to face with him again, seeing red flames in his eyes. heat spreads to your face as his eyes lock on yours, waiting for any reaction from you. you’re lips hesitate to speak. “you- you get warm… everywhere?” your eyes avoid his. his hand gripped your thighs right below your ass, softly tugging on you to get your leg wrapped around his torso. you feel his hot fingers brushing away the stray hairs that were messily covering your face. it burned hot. his face proved that he found your embarrassment amusing.

“wanna find out?”

~

ace kisses you softly. his hot hand reaching up the softness of your shirt and leading themselves to your perked nipple. his hands are so rough, much different than the way his lips feel. he kisses the side of your mouth and whispers softly to you, “you’re still so cold?” he giggles as he watches you squirm at his touch.

“ace, your portholes are open. it’s fucking cold in here.” you whine trying to keep his heated fingers on you. his amused grin has you needy and irritated. you reach for his hands again. “just a second babe, let’s get ya shirt off.” ace helps to fully undress you with sturdy hands. a shiver leaves your body, covering you in goose bumps as the cool sea breeze hits your skin. “i’ll getcha all warmed up baby.”

he takes his hands and starts massaging the creases of your hips. kneading and pulling on your plush skin, slowly working his tepid hands all the way up your torso. the heaviness in his touch relieved so much within you, moaning at his warmth and his strength. he is manhandling you with you such softness and love.

hot palms come up to cup under your breasts tenderly, dipping his head down and sucking against your pretty nubs. his tongue swirls around each one leaving a string of warm saliva connecting from your buds to his lips. “are we gettin there, pretty? how do you feel?” wanting more, you pull him so that his chest meets yours. he buries his face into your neck and softly suckles. his breaths are hot there. “m still cold ace, wanna feel you” you whine for him.

his lips curl into a smile against your skin, he knew exactly what you craved. “how do you want it angel?” his clothed thigh pushes against your needy cunt, collecting many fifty whines from you. his fire ignited something warm inside of you, you need it to burn brighter.

his body shuffles down the bed, inching his face to be face to face with your sleep shorts. ace wants your juices dripping down his face, seeing you twitch for him has him starving. impatiently, he removes your shorts and panties, tossing them to the floor. he takes your hands with his own while he plays with you devilishly with his tongue, squeezing your palms slightly when he feels you try to move away.

his tongue attached to you like a magnet, chasing every move, he wouldn’t let you get away. he squeezes your hands again, “that’s it baby, such a good girl.” his tongue drawing little clouds on your swollen clit. “doin so good, can’t get enough of ya y/n~” he gulps all of your juices, sucking you clean. “haah- fuck acee. mm so close.” the tip of his nose brushed against the point of your clit as he slid his lips to your weeping hole, drinking even more of you.

he flicks back and forth from your hole to your clit with his tongue. removing one of his hands from yours, he reaches for the plump of your thigh. he squeezed harshly, assuring you to cum for him. his tongue moved swiftly with your slick allowing you to reach your orgasm. “ace! ‘m cuh- cumming!! shiiit right there haa-“ the sight of his glistening face sent an aftershock to your cunt, his smirk was so sexy while he was covered with your juices.

ace’s cock ached in his boxers, there were little dark spots littered across the fabric from his precum. “can ya do one more for me baby doll?” whimpers leave your lips while your head slightly nodded for him. “you did so good fa me y/a~ now you ready to feel this dick cupcake?”

~

your pussy was already sopping for him but still there was a little resistance when he slid into you. ace moaned breathily at the feeling of your tight walls clenching around him. “fuuu- shit y/n- feel so fuckin good mmmf~” his hot hands pushed down on your low back as your pussy was busy sucking around his cock.

your eyes watered at the shear width of him, he was spreading your sore cunt so deliciously. you felt your second orgasm start to form within your overstimulated core. he reached your cervix with one final slow push. once fully fitted around his length, you fucked back on him, slowly grinding your ass against his hard thighs.

ace tried to muffle his moans with his hand but you stripped them from him, he couldn’t be quiet. his deep moans echoed in his small cabin, ricocheting deep in your pulsating cunt. you throbbed for him, he curved upwards directly hitting your sensitive spot. ace gripped both sides of your ass to speed up his pace. pulling you hard against his reckless thrusts. he was getting sloppy. each thrust was met with the clapping of your cheeks on him, he groaned with each contact hit.

“wanna look atcha-“ he flipped you around to face him. you whined at the sudden emptiness but sighed as he soon filled you back up again. “don’t worry mama, wasn’t gonna take it from you.”

his voice was going blurry in your ears, dick so good you’re hearing auditory hallucinations. he took hold of your hips again while you sat on top of him, he rocks against you slowly.

you miss his mouth, his warmth~ wanna taste him again. your arms detach from his shoulders to hang loose around his neck, forehead rested against his while he fucks up into you. you’re ready, you wanna cum around him. pussy numb from feeling his tip abuse your cervix. “mm so close ace, please fuck me-” nonsense spilling from your lips, he is fucking you dumb.

your eyes are heavy as you try to line your lips up with his, drool sliding around both of your faces. he connects with you and sucks feverishly on your swollen lips. ace begins to pull you up and down on his veiny cock, bouncing you sporadically. the tightness in your eyes not helping you postpone your orgasm. “mmm ahh huhh- f-fuckk gonna- agh i’m cumming baby!!!!” the pleasure washes over you like a tsunami, it’s almost too much. your legs start to tremble as you effortlessly squeeze and clench around his width. “fuck cum in me ace- warm me up~” your wall’s are contracting around his poor, twitching cock while you milk him~ his breaths were shaky and irregular as he chased his own release.

“y/nnn-“ his husky voice filled your ears as you saw him cum inside of you. hips shuttering as his orgasm strikes him. pretty black hair sticking to the beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, his eyes tightened as he grunted out your name a few more times. glistening before you, he looked so ethereal..

~

* we are cuddling and warm and soo in luv !!! *

[lunadeathbed]

★ Hi Again ★

Normally Not Normal

The long awaited part 2 of Hi Ren! FINALLY!!!! Sorry that it took so long to actually get it out but I didn't forget about it!

Link to part 1 of Normally Not Normal ↓

RED : Ren's thoughts

PINK : Ren

PURPLE : Moth

BLUE: MC

★ Hi Again ★

You gathered a few blankets and pillows putting them down on your couch. It was currently about 7:30, Ren would be here soon. You decided it was probably a good time to get ready.

Walking into your room you go over to your wardrobe. Browsing youroptions you stumble upon a white “Friday the 13th” shirt you bought a while back after Moth sent you a eBay listing for it. They knew your tastes a little to well and of course you caved in and bought it. You paired the shirt with some black sweat pants and your regular jewelry. Last of all you pulled on a pair of fuzzy black socks, it was still pretty cold in autumn.

You spun around in front of the mirror that lazily leaned against the corner of your bedroom and take a look at yourself. Satisfied with your choices for the night you step away.

As if on cue your doorbell rang just as you walked out of your bedroom. Hurriedly you run to your front door and unlock it.

You come face to face with Ren's chest.

“Hey there Angel.”

Sometimes you forget how tall he is.

You also see the oversized Slasher hoodie he was wearing. It was a black “Halloween” hoodie with Michael Myers plastered on the front, pared with black cargo pants that had silver chains hanging of the belt loops. It was pretty different compared to his usual soft look. It looked nice you thought.

You crane your neck up to look Ren in the eyes blushing a little.

“Hi again, Ren.”

You felt a surge of something pulse through your body at the way Ren looked at you with a soft smile. You couldn't quite describe or put a label on it, but it was definitely a good feeling.

Ren's face grew reder and reder the ponder you looked at him.

So cute...

You realise you've been staring at Ren for at least a minute.

“-ah, sorry,” you look away.

God. He probably thought you were weird. You step away from the door to let him in.

“It's fine Angel, don't worry about it.”

“uh-You look nice.”

Ren started to fiddle with the end of his sleeve, moving to take of his shoes.

“You look nice too…”

At this point both of you were burning red just from the small exchange.

To brake the slightly awkward silence Ren lifts up the plastic shopping bag he held with a slight smile.

“I got you your cup noodles.”

“uh-Thanks, I-I'll take that,” taking the bag gently your fingers slightly brush against Ren's hand…

Their hands are soft...

Ren mumbles a bit breathing heavily at the contact with a blush overcoming his face while he takes his shoes of, although you don't notice.

Once he finishes you walk to the kitchen and put down the bag, Ren following closely behind like the big puppy he was.

Maybe that would be a new nickname for him? Puppy. It sounds fitting because Ren finds the need to follow your every move.

“m’ gonna take this stuff out.”

You start to take things out of the bag and place them on the counter.

“I hope you like what I got you.’’

He had already managed to find where you kept your bowls and place them on the counter. He fiddles a bit as you assess the food options.

Wow…

Looking over the selection Ren had struck gold, he bought all of your favourite snacks. Nearly everything down to a tee.

“How did you know that these were my favourite?” you asked, half jokingly raising one of your eyebrows.

You remembered Ren calling and asking about what he should get but you never actually said all that much just a few things.

“uh-well I saw you had some of these in the kitchen last time I was over and the rest I kinda just uh-guessed, and bought some of the stuff I like.” he tugged to his sleeves more.

Little do you know angel, I followed you around while you were at the shops and I took a peek at your recites...

Ren really had some luck or he was a telepath.

“Really?! You sure you haven't been reading my mind or something?”

Ren laughs softly.

“I wish Angel.”

“I would’ve done a lot more than see what your favourite snacks are,” he mumbles under his breath not realising you noticed.

I would have done a lot of things by now... A lot...

You shiver involuntary.

Not from the cold Autumn air seeping through your thin apartment walls, god.

Stupid landlord.

You need to actually file a lawsuit against that guy.

“Ah-”

Your train of thoughts stumbles as you hear you phone go of.

“ugh-What?” you mumble to yourself.

You pat around your pockets for you phone, you think you see a faint smirk on Ren's face for a second, but as soon as you see it it's gone.

. . .

Your phone goes of again.

“Hold on a sec.”

You finally manage to locate your phone and pull it out to see who was messaging you at such a random hour.

Moth...

Of course.

★★★★★

Heyyyy

Are we watching that new anime you talked about yesterday?

Hi Moth

Not today

Ren's over at my place right now

REN???????

YOU MEAN THE ONE FROM THE LIBRARY!?!?

yes.

that one

Don't stay up too late then, I won't keep you any longer 😉

Moth!

Ok, Ok, I'll leave you alone for now

Let me know how it goes!

★★★★★

You blush profusely at the small comment.

“uh, Sorry about that.”

“it's fine Angel.”

The both of you continue to move snacks from there packaging to bowls.

Ren randomly stopped and just sort of stood behind you.

“Are you ok-”

You're cut off by Ren's arms snake around your waist, he leans his face into your hair.

You smell so good angel... I could hold you like this forever... Truely...

You feel a blush rise to your cheeks.

“Ren?”

One of Ren's hands travels under your shirt and he traces his fingers against your bare skin.

Your blush furiously at his sudden act of affection.

“R-Ren?”

“hmm?”

“W-we should finish unpacking this stuff.”

Ren pouts a bit but eventually complies.

It was cute.

One you finish Ren helps you bring the food into your living room, after putting down the bowls you plop onto the couch.

“What movie should we start with?”

“How about we start with Friday The 13th? Seemed to be one of your favourites.” He says pointing down at your Friday The 13th shirt.

“Oh, yeah it is one of my favourite movies. We can start with that but we'll watch your favourite next.”

“So I'm assuming Halloween then?”

“Yep.”

You pick up the remote again and open Netflix, you play the movie and get settled in. You wrap yourself in a blanket and pass one over to Ren and he places it over his lap.

Both you and Ren chill for some time and point out your favourite parts of the movie to each other.

You don't notice at first but Ren slowly inches towards you every so often...

At some point Ren gets so close that your thighs are touching and he it trying to pretend to focus on the movie while his face is bright red and his breath hitched.

So close...

You yourself blush a bit.

“Is this ok?”

Ren looks over to you waiting for your confirmation looking a bit flustered. You nod slightly.

One of Ren's hands slowly moves from his lap and rests it on your thighs. Surprised with the sudden confidence you make a small sound and blush harder. You feel Ren draw stars with his thumb on your thigh.

You liked it.

It felt right.

You lean your head against Ren's shoulder and he stiffness a bit before relaxing again and leaning his head on top of yours.

So innocent...

You spend the rest of the night cuddling. Ren's arm around your waist, leaning against eachother.

The later it got the harder it became to keep your eyes open, eventually you let sleep take over and you shut your eyes snuggled closely within Ren's secure embrace. He smiles softly.

“Night Angel.”

The last thing you feel is Ren shuffling around and laying against the couch gently pulling you down with him. Never dose he let go of your waist, he keeps his arm firmly linked around you.

“Sweet dreams~”

Possibly there will be a part three or I'll abandon this but I'm calling the series Normally Not Normal ;)

The shirt I talk about the MC wearing is a genuine eBay listing my friend sent me, that's where I got the idea. Sadly I didn't buy it :(

+ Ren's Halloween hoodie

(⁠｡⁠ﾉ⁠ω⁠＼⁠｡⁠)

★ If you have any feedback or suggestions let me know! (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠) ★

[dreamsofalife]

Shy doesn't let her speak another word before the flashlight connects with Joy's face, sending her tumbling to the ground. However, being rather panicked and reactive, the blow isn't as hard as it could be. Joy doesn't have the time to respond verbally, but a grasping hand manages to catch Shy's sleeve and pull her down to the ground with her; if I'm going down, you're coming with me.

"Will you listen to me for one minute?!" Joy's pinned to the ground, her thin fingers wrenching Shy's hands away from her. The way she yells isn't her normal irritated snap; it's akin to a frightened animal, wild eyed and feral. "I don't have much time, that demon seed with the fake leg is probably still after me! What kinds of people have you been hanging out with since I left?!"

She doesn't answer. The two of them struggle, rolling across the sea of darkened grass, pale moonlight the only witness to their desperate struggle. Shy strikes; once, twice, fist connecting with Joy's face more times than she can count. She's in a blind, animalistic panic that can't be reasoned away. The mind is quiet while the body and emotions rage, demanding; eliminate the threat, get rid of her, kill her, KILL HER-

But before she can reach such a terrible point, before she can do what can never be taken back, she looks down, and she sees it. That terrified face, almost blue under the glow of the moon, body heaving as tears stream down her face. She sees something truly, genuinely pitiful...and, she stands up.

There comes a time in our lives when we stop mythologizing things, and by extension, people; our parents stop being infallible and look to us like ordinary humans, our teachers are no longer the pantheon of Gods deciding our fate. The closet monster morphs back into the moth-eaten raincoat bought for us years in advance that we forgot existed.

For Shy, her moment was now. Standing over Joy-impossibly beautiful, perfect, cruel, capricious as her very namesake Joy-who now sat dirty, sobbing, and downright pathetic...something in her just broke.

This isn't a monster. This isn't an angel, a succubus, or something out of the tortured love stories she consumed by the pound as a teen. She's human. Flawed, wretched, and as of now, no longer able to hurt her. No more than she already had. She can't bring herself to fear something she pities so much.

"You are...so fucked up, you know that? Not just what you did last week, but like, in general?"

"What are you-"

"Shush!" Joy actually flinches at the intensity of her voice. "You're always doing that, always interrupting me! Even when we were together, you always used to interrupt! A-and you used to laugh at my poetry, and stole my perfume...you didn't talk to me for a week because you thought the waitress at Bukowski's was flirting with me! She was my second cousin, Joy!"

"Are you still mad about that?! I said I was-"

"No, you didn't!" Shy snaps back, eyes flashing. "That was the worst thing! You never apologized for anything you did, you always had to justify it or act like it never happened! You still don't ever apologize! Christ alive, look at yourself! You're here trying to justify almost killing me, to me! You only apologized for it because Daniel made you do it! Because Jill is on your heels and Nymh is hunting you down! Because the people who actually know and love me are doing something about it!"

Love...that's why she's even alive, isn't it? Lo found her and got to her in time. Alice got Daniel to buy her time to heal and keep Joy at bay for awhile until she managed to run. Jill and Nymh had been chomping at the bit trying to get revenge for her, everyone who visited her in the hospital...her room is still piled high with flowers.

She can barely register the tears pouring down her face.

"I feel sorry for you, you know. You hurt me because you felt like you had nothing left, and now...now you don't. There was a time I would have taken you back, would have just...just forgiven you for it all and thought it was okay. But I know better now. I met people who taught me how to love for real, and they're the only reason I'm still here right now. I've moved on, Joy; it's time for you to do the same. For all you like to talk about taking responsibility for your actions, you haven't done so once...so I'm giving you the choice. Own up to it. Everyone knows what you did, so own up to it and take responsibility. Stay here and get arrested, I won't press charges; I'll let the state decide what they want to do. Or, you take the coward's way out and run, but if you run...I can tell you that life will be miserable for you, if you can manage to survive that long. I'm begging you, Joy...do the right thing. For once, do the right thing."

Joy doesn't respond, not verbally at least. Her eyes lock with Shy's for a moment, pleading before she lowers her head.

She has to do the right thing. She has to give up; she can't run forever.

Once again, sirens wail like a banshee in the night, and once again, Shy finds herself unable to sleep. She's questioned briefly, and as her ex is taken away in handcuffs, she can't help but feel a deep ache in the pit of her soul.

These are scars that won't heal, but in time, they're going to fade. She's still scared, broken, and maybe even in shock, but at the very least? The nightmare is over. She's going to be just fine.

[bitchikorita]

Both of these UtsuP songs are about disability, "I Thought I Was An Angel" more likely being about mental handicaps whereas "An Alien's "I Love You"" is more so about physical disablitity. That said, both songs are vague and can be applied to both situations. Both are rather depressing, focusing on the inability of leading a normal life, being held back by your own inadequacy and by how others treat and view you.

"I Thought I Was An Angel" hones in on being forced to fit into a society that places demands you cannot keep up with. Unlike more recent songs by UtsuP such as "RRRRafflesia" and "Moth", this is not an angry song, moreso solemn and hopeless, capturing the feeling of realizing that the life you've always expected to live is never going to be available to you, that even just the tiniest scraps of it being so far out of reach they'll never be relevant. The lyrics of the song start off with how the singer is similar to others, possessing the same traits and appearance, and seem to fit in just fine. But as the song progresses, it starts focusing on the singers inabilities of partaking in normal activities. not living the way they should, not working the way they should. Finally it developes into a different fear. it is no longer about fitting in for the sake of it, it is about being able to have something to eat, roof over your head, and how that requires money. The singer doesn't receive love, they cannot engage in hobbies, but even moreso they cannot even afford being alive. The first line of the song: "Once upon a time, I thought I was an angel like everybody else" implies that the singer just sees their differences as an identity issue, but then the final line: "Once upon a time, I thought that I could live like everybody else" captures the development of the song really well; How not fitting in can lead into lacking the means to stay alive in modern society, which is a massive societal failure that is often overlooked or treated as normal or even "deserved" by some people. My personal favorite part of the song are the lyrics during the build-up to the chorus, and how they change over the song. "And they always cheered me on, and they always pushed me on" "I was always taught to understand ten things from one" At first the singer is young and positive. It gives off the feeling that they think that yes, I might have some difficulties with these things, but I am being helped by others so I'll manage. But then when the second part hits, the singer's peers no longer have the same patience with them, and the singer is questioning what's wrong with them. "Is it something wrong with God’s design? Dunno what he could have dropped this time?" "Everyone screamed at me to understand ten things from one"

"An Alien's "I Love You"" is a love song. A melancholic love song from an alien to a human who they can't be with, because they aren't qualified to be in love with them. Aliens being used as a stand in for being disabled is often seen as a negative stereotype, but in this song the so called "alien" isn't actually a real alien, as is made clear by the lyrics, but instead a metaphor to describe how alienated and different the singer feels from everyone else. The song tells the story of how they were born with "3 eyes, 4 arms and a green body". They meet their first friend at kindergarten, and over time feel in love with them. As they grow older, the other kids start bullying them, stealing their things and imitating them. Their friend, who they love so much, no longer hangs out with them, which is understandable, cause they know that being associated would "contaminate" their friend, and the singer doesn't want that. So they stay away from them, they stay away from everyone. They lock themselves up in their room, because they aren't qualified. They don't deserve love, and if they express love they ruin their object of affections standing, so they can't do that either. But they can't help wanting to love and be loved, so they sing this song of repeated "I love you"'s over and over again, alone, locked up in their room, until they no longer can. Similar to the song it is going up against, An Alien's "I Love You" doesn't have a happy ending. The singer wants just the most basic things in life, but they can't have it, they haven't earned it, because they aren't human. But deep down they know they are, which makes their treatment by their peers hurt all the more. So they lie to themself to numb the pain, but in the end this behaviour leads to complete social isolation, turning their fears into a self-fulfilling prophecy. Cause in the end, you might think you can't be hurt or hurt others if you stay away from everyone else, but it only makes it so you can't ever prove it to yourself that those two outcomes aren't constants.

Vocaloid Song Showdown!!: Round 1C

Please listen to the songs before voting!

"I thought I was an angel" by Utsu-P; feat. Hatsune Miku

VS

"An Alien's "I Love You"" by Utsu-P; feat. Hatsune Miku

[nightwishesworld]

Too Much to Drink

Requested by my dear friends on Tumblr. It was meant to be more flirty than fluffy, but oh well. I'm sure you guys will like it anyway.

*******************************************************************************************

Why the hell did I agree to this? You thought to yourself as you tipped your head back, shot glass pressed against your opened lips, face scrunching in disgust when the alcohol burned your throat. Your stomach lurched for a moment, while you slammed the thick shot glass down onto the island in the kitchen.

The girls giggled around you and one of them slapped you on the back with the force of a brick. It was a stupid decision, thought of by one and only Cassandra Dimitrescu. She thought it would be a great way for the four of you to bond by throwing back shots after a long day.

You being the fool that you are, agreed. Now here you are, six shots later, all riled up with possibly the most dangerous three women in Romania. You were starting to get way too drunk, too quickly.

“I can’t believe we haven’t killed you yet!” Daniela said way too loudly, dropping her bottle of “wine” to shatter on the ground.

Bela nods along, obviously the soberest of the sisters. “Mother would hang us by a silver chain if anything happened to her precious y/n.”

“She loves you so much,” Cassandra swoons. “It’s almost nauseating it’s so sweet.”

“I love her so much more. No one can ever take me from her. Unless there’s a bigger sexier vampire out there somewhere...”

“Don’t let Alcina hear you say that.” You heard a familiar, feminine voice come up behind you. “You’d break her poor heart.”

A round of giggles erupted as you chose to look up behind you instead of turning around. You could barely make out Alcina’s face behind her large chest. Your face quickly flushed, remembering how soft they felt under your touch.

Alcina sighs and shakes her head. “I take it this was your idea girls? How much have you had to drink?”

“Too many.” One of the vampires laughed, leaning her body into the island, face down on the granite top. “She’s fun. We like her.”

“Oh good,” Alcina’s tone drips sarcasm. “And it only took you inebriating her to find that out.” Her nails threaded themselves into your hair and started massaging your scalp.

“Looks like our fun is over,” Cassandra giggles. All three girls disappear into moth swarms, their giggles echoing down the corridors.

Alcina gripped your head tenderly and tilted it back up so you were looking at her. She appeared more relaxed now that it was just the two of you, no longer in “mom mode.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Too much fun.” You sigh, closing your eyes when her hand brushes over the back of your head. “I think I’m getting drunk?”

“Getting? My love, I think you’re already there.”

You shook your buzzing head, nuzzling as close as you could. “Mm-not. We didn’t even have that much to drink.”

Alcina chuckled. “Yes, clearly. Someone went through an entire rack of Sanguis Virgini.”

“Doesn’t mean it was me! That’s a vampy drink I can’t have that.”

She shoots you an amused smile and tousles your hair. “You’re lucky you’re so cute, do you know that?”

“I love them, Al!” You giggled, wrapping your arms around her and laying your head against her warm thigh. “Just like I love you.”

“I love you too, porumbel mic.”

“You’re so wonderful, Alci. I love you so much.”

“Okay, Y/n.” Alcina laughed, rolling her eyes with a blush. “Let’s go to bed.”

“Only if you’ll join me.”

Alcina laughs as she picks you up gently, making sure the sudden movement isn’t making you nauseous. “We’ve been sharing a bed for some time now, Love. Why on Satan’s scorched earth would I stop tonight?”

You laugh at her words and nestle yourself comfortably against her chest. You shifted, sliding your arms up and around her neck to keep yourself securely wrapped in her arms. She would never drop you, never in a million years, but the action did make you feel safer as the room started to spin. You watched the movement of her pink lips as she cracked a small smile, imagining the way that they moved against your own when she kisses you.

Another rush of warmth shot through your veins, and you bit your lip. She is so attractive. God you love this woman. This perfect, beautiful vampire goddess.

“I love you.” You murmured when she looked down at you, after opening the doors to your shared bedroom. You felt tears well up in your eyes.

“Darling.” She shifted your body to one arm so she could cup your face with her free hand. “I love you too, porumbel mic.”

“I’m not a dove,” you slur. “I just really love you, ok?”

“Come on.” She laughed, carrying you straight out to the balcony. Fresh air always helped you feel better. With her free hand, Alcina dragged the seat from her vanity out with her and placed it strategically so she could lean back against the stone. She sat down and propped you into her lap. “Why are you crying?”

“Be-because you’re the best partner in the world and I love you.” You sniffed, snuggling up under her arms. You felt tears fall from your eyes, leaving cold trails down your flushed cheeks. “I think I’m drunk.”

Alcina chose to ignore the statement. “I love you, too, sweetheart. ”Tu ești lumea mea.”

The sentiment only makes you tear up more. “How can I be your world if I’m just...me? I’m not special like you or the girls. Even Heisenberg can turn into a damn dog.”

“Porumbel mic,” her lips brushed against your temple, curled up in a small smile. “I’ve loved you since the day I met you.”

You giggled, turning your head so you could press a sloppy kiss against the underside of her jaw.

“You are the best thing that has ever walked through the castle doors. Please don’t think otherwise, porumbel mic.”

You hid in her neck, lips brushing against her neck as you continued to slur. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in the history of ever.”

Alcina pulled you away so she could look at your face – using her thumbs to wipe away any trace of tears. “What have I done to deserve such praise?”

She leaned forward, chastely pressing her soft lips against yours for a moment. She pulled back quickly, leaving a tingle on your lips as her forehead pressed against yours.

Oh, god…

Oh fuck….

You pulled away as quick as you could and stumbled off her lap and towards the edge of the balcony. You barely made it before emptying the contents of your stomach all over the gardens below.

“Fuck, y/n. How many drinks did you have?” She asked, brushing her hand up and down your back as you dry heaved.

“I...I don’t know. Victoria gave me tequila.”

“Alright, let’s get you to bed.” She sighed, wrapping her arm around your shoulders and dragging you back inside. “You can change into your pajamas and shower in the morning when I know you won’t slip and crack your head open.”

You pulled the covers back on your side of the bed and watched as Alcina moved to get into hers. She adjusted herself comfortably and opened her arms for you to cuddle. You happily obliged.

“You’re going to feel like shit tomorrow.”

You hum against her chest, peppering kisses on her breasts. “You’ll take care of me, right?”

“Of course, porumbel mic. Now go to sleep, you’ll need it.”

[miss-smutty]

Ma’am I heard your requests are open.. could I request a fluffy smutty imagine with Thor Odinson. I don’t actually have a storyline in mind so I leave that to you, but my point is,

Sex on the balcony!!

Immortal

A/N- Thank you @mostly-marvel-musings for the request! I hope you like it. I had a fic in mind when I saw the gif of Chris on the balcony so this was a perfect opportunity. It's alot different to anything I've done for a completely new AU

Summary- There's something different about the man across the room, something Aria can't quite put her finger on but she's more than willing to explore deeper.

Word count- 1420

Pairing- Thor Odinson x OFC

Warnings- Smut, Swearing, Unprotected sex (all the usual)

18+ only!

Taglist- @innerpaperexpertcloud

@pandaxnienke

@chickensarentcheap @longlostinanotherworld

Posted: 22nd May 2021

Aria couldn't peel her eyes away from The God of Thunder, the way he held the attention of everybody in the room , it was mesmerising. She was fascinated by him, how he barely seemed to notice the girls around him, throwing themselves on him. The way his face lit up when he spoke, how his whole aura shone brightly. Aria was rare in existence, a human who could see people's aura's just as clearly as the clothes they wore. A intuition so on point she knew everything about a person before they even spoke a word. This man's aura was unlike any she'd ever seen before, she knew he was  immortal as soon as she saw him. Still learning things about herself and the world she existed in, everyday she would be fascinated by something new.

Being new to town, Aria had arrived at the ball alone but had spent the night fighting away her own fair share of attention from eligible bachelor's. They were drew to her like moths to a flame, and were just as irritating. Not one of them had piqued her interest until she'd seen the mysteriously tall, broad, blonde statue of a man.

She stood by the back of the room by the buffet table, routinely replacing her flute of champagne everytime it emptied and watched the beautiful man intently. Studying him.

There was no doubt in her mind that the reason he turned around and caught her eye was because he felt her gaze upon him, only when their eyes met he looked just as intrigued as she did.

"Do you want to dance?" The eye contact with the mysterious God was broken when a small, slightly balding, weaselly man approached her, breaking her line of sight frustratingly. Aria tried to look around him, fighting the urge to shove him out of the way.

"In your dreams, mate." She replied to the highly confident middle aged man, paying no more attention to him and instead scanning the room once more, searching for the man she actually was interest in. Disappointment etched on her face when he seemed to have vanished from her sights.

She tried to mingle, to join in with the conversations but all she could hear was his bassy voice echoing around the busy room. She couldn't block it out, It was as if he had consumed her entire being but she still couldn't see him. It was distracting.

Aria needed to clear her mind, to block out the inner voices of the other guests and focus on that one voice. More than that, she needed air. It was stuffy, the atmosphere clingy. Too many aura's fighting for attention. She couldn't think straight. It was, Claustrophobic. 

Fighting her way through the groups of people, heading towards the side of the room and ducking behind the floor length curtains. She knew it was there, could sense it. A small, private balcony. No one else would know it was there unless they looked behind the curtain. Finally she could be alone for a minute to gather her thoughts.

Leaning out over the glass balcony, admiring the view of the valley below her. It was absolutely breath taking. Awe inspiring.

"Beautiful." She said out loud, into the night.

"My thoughts exactly." Came a deep voice from behind her. She turned around too quickly, not expecting anyone to follow her and tripped over her foot. Falling into the very arms of the man she'd been watching all night.

"I was talking about the view." She blushed. Looking up into his deep blue eyes, his otherworldly scent filling her nostrils. Fascinating her senses.

"I wasn't" He continued to stare into her eyes, his face emotionless making her blush deeper. "-What are you?" He asks, his eyes narrowing as the words left his mouth.

"Erm… A girl." Aria replied, realising she was still in his arms. Feeling his blood pumping through his veins and something else she couldn't quite put her finger on. Whatever it was made her body tingle with electricity.

"No, you're a woman but not that, there's something more." He furrowed his brow as he studied her closer. The look on his face stirring something inside of her, something deep inside of her, a tingly presence she hasn't felt before. Reaching up to touch his face with her fingertips, she felt a pull, like a magnet. Thor's eyes widened when he felt it too, pulling her against his body tightly.

"You're different, I can feel it. I'm drawn to you unlike anyone I've ever met before." He whispered, his lips lingering close to hers, an unknown force pulling them together.

"I've never felt anything like this before either, what are you?" Both her hands came to rest on his broad chest as she spoke. The way his heart beat was different to anyone else, faster, a different rhythm all together.

"I am Thor, The God of Thunder, my love. Son of Odin." She could sense the pride in his voice. Aria didn't want to tell him she already knew he was a God, she didn't know how to answer the questions that would follow. Not when she still didn't understand how she knew herself.

"Now that is a title." She smiled, still looking up at him through her lashes innocently.

"You're beautiful." He muttered staring deeply into her soul and smoothing his thumb over her cheek tenderly. When her lips parted suggestively, he took the cue, leaning down to attach his lips to hers.

The kiss was deep and passionate, his lips even softer than she imagined. She loosened his black tie and left it hanging around his neck. The kisses becoming more ferocious with a deep and hungry need. A feral need that consumed the both of them simultaneously.

Pulling him back against the wall by his tie, his thick-set body crashing against her heavily. Pinning her between him and the wall. His cock pressing against her through those deliciously tight, fitted trousers. Reaching down to fumble with his zipper messily, lips still locked while a primal thirst.

Thor caught her hair in his hands, running his fingertips up her scalp, clasping her hair within both his fists. He pulled her head back gently, exposing her neck, a deep animalistic growl emitting from his throat before he buried his head into her neck. Gripping his teeth gently into her soft flesh until her knees became weak.

Fumbling to try and pull her dress up, the fabric clinging to her curves, he groaned ripping the fabric up the side and pulling it up to her stomach. Thor pulled her up into his arms, resting her back against the wall while he guided his cock to her opening. The feel of his smooth tip against her slit made her moan, a moan that came from deep within. The sound spurring him on as he pushed himself deep inside of her while she clung to his back.

Lifting her higher, her back scraping against the wall painfully. The pain and the pleasure making her walls tighten around his thick cock making him growl instinctively. He pounded into her relentlessly, her fingers gripping his hair tightly, pulling his head towards her with every thrust. Gutteral moans coming from them both as their release builds. It's quick but oh so intense. Something she's never been able to find before, especially with a stranger. Someone who can match up to her, who can take control and fuck her like this.

Aria can't quite put her finger on it but it feels different. Like it's meant to be, like fate had drawn them both here at this exact time. 

The way his eyelids hang heavy with lust, his breathe panting as he give her everything he's got, drives her over the edge. She screams out loud, her legs going rigid, every inch of her body alight with sensation. She'd never come like that before, it takes a while for her to recover. Her head resting against his shoulder as they both try and catch their breath. Aria's dress torn and Thor's hair dishevelled.

"Why do I feel like I've met you before?" He asks, moving a stray hair from her mouth tenderly.

"I have no answers but I feel the exact same way. That was the most intense thing I've ever felt." She replies.

"Why didn't you question me when I told you I was a God? These clothes I'm wearing to fit in don't exactly make me look like one." He moves over to the edge of the balcony, the way he looks standing there in the moonlight is breathtaking.

"I could sense it." She says without thinking, immediately wishing she could take the words back.

Thor thinks about it for a second. "What are you?" He asks again.

"I have to go. I'm sorry, I have to… I've said too much." Aria mumbles, straightening out her hair and dress before turning to flee.

He catches her hand before she turns, as she fights every urge in her body, all of her senses telling her to stay and she runs. Aria runs and she doesn't look back.

[elsa-writes]

Alfie Solomons x Reader: Beauty and the Beast

Part 1

Authors note: this is my first time writing for Peaky Blinders, and my first time writing a fic in a while, so please feel free to bully me for my inaccuracies! also I might change the title later cuz idk what else to title this. Enjoy!

—-

Polly pretended to disapprove of you and Arthur’s shenanigans. Reality was, she knew with you around, Arthur couldn’t get into too much trouble. True, it was not the most respectable of hobbies for a lady, to be playing cards and hanging around bars every Friday night. However, Arthur couldn’t be getting any whores pregnant when he had to watch over his young cousin. And he’d make sure you’d stay out of trouble, too. Tommy had a similar line of thinking. Although with this latest scheme, you weren’t sure you had his full support.

“Are you sure this is the best idea?”

“I think,” Arthur paused for a beat, stroking his mustache. “It will go smoothly. You want to prove yourself, that you can function in this line of business, this is it.”

“And what did Tommy say about it?” You questioned. He’d sent Arthur in his place for a meeting with Mr Solomons. You were sitting in the car outside of the distill- bakery. Arthur insisted that you come along to this meeting. Camden Town was a bit nicer than Birmingham-though not by much.

“You know Tommy, he’s, well, you know,” he blustered. In the back seat, Billy coughed.

So Tommy was not aware of this arrangement. “Right.” But you were not going to NOT go in.

You’d bumped into Mr Solomons once. He’d been leaving after having a conversation with Tommy. You scampered away before he could say anything to you. Not out of fear of him; you ran away because you were afraid Tommy would know you’d been eavesdropping. Though Mr Solomons had made a reputation for himself, from what you’d overheard, he sounded like a bit of a clown.

“Are you coming or are you going to stay in the car like a baby?”

“I’m not a baby,” you protested and stepped out into the cold air. “Finn is a baby.”

“Yeah, and I didn’t invite him for a reason.” Arthur punctuated the sentence with a slam of the automobile door.

You adjusted your outfit, making sure you looked proper and professional. “Let’s get this over with.”

A man awaited you by the door and led you inside the distillery. It was dark, and damp. The odor of rum-er, bread, permeated the air. The smell made you light headed. Your shoes echoed on the cement, the loudest sound in the room.

As you descended into the labyrinth, a man appeared from behind a corner. Mr. Solomons himself.

His hat cast an ominous shadow over his face- definitely planned for theatrical effect.

He did not react to your presence. If he recognized you he gave no sign. “Welcome, welcome! You must be Arthur!”

“Mr. Solomons,” Arthur greeted, offering a hand.

“I’ve head so much about you,” Mr. Solomons said. The amusement in his voice was evident. He wasn’t taller than your cousin, but he was stockier and way more intimidating. Billy stood on the opposite side of you, wary of the large man.

Arthur replied, “Shalom.”

You cringed. Mr. Solomons gaze flickered to one of his men behind Arthur.

“Let me just say, Shalom,” Arthur repeated, painfully serious. You felt ill. If it were a less tense situation you would have smacked him over the head.

Solomons tilted his head just enough for you to get a glimpse of the look of incredulity on his face.

“Shalom!” He said. “So glad you could join us for this most joyous of celebrations! And I see you’ve brought friends for the occasion.” Solomons nodded in your direction. You’d been instructed by Arthur to not speak too much or get involved. The same went for Billy.

Arthur shifted on his feet. “This is my cousin, and my associate. Shall we discuss business?”

“Cousin, eh? From the sounds of it, there’s a new Shelby every fucking week.” Mr Solomons chuckled. “Come along, come along.”

He lead you into a room with a table in the center. Something was off. Perhaps it was the comment Arthur had made. It had surely offended them. The Solomons men hadn’t even looked at you. Not that you wanted to be looked at. It was unusual, though. They weren’t even looking at each other.

Something else in the room caught your attention; a goat tied to the leg of the table. It bleated sadly at you. You resisted the urge to pet it.

Mr Solomons circled the table and gestured. You took note of the pipe in his hand that also seemed to function as a cane. “Take a seat, why don’t you?”

Arthur hesitated, both you and Billy watching him before making a move.

He took the chair on the end. Some of the Solomons boys were standing behind the three of you in a perfect line. Another one took a chair next to Mr Solomons, still not looking at you.

Mr Solomons himself remained standing, studying Billy like he was the most fascinating thing on the planet. “And you’ll be...”

“Billy,” Billy said.

Mr. Solomons focused his attention on you. “Shelby?”

“(Y/n),” was your answer as you sat down at the table. There were plates and cups arranged before you. You kept your hands in your lap, careful not to touch anything.

“(Y/n)...You know, out there in the sand, out there in the desert where me forefathers come from... started out as a little speck...”

“Is everything alright?” Billy leaned over to whisper to Arthur. One of the men lurking around had shut the door behind you while Mr. Solomons rambled on. Arthur tried to dismiss Billy’s concerns with a wave.

“Billy, don’t worry mate, yeah, if you want you can leave. If you need to go to the little boys room or something you can leave.” Mr. Solomons interrupted, sounding a little too much like a school teacher.

“He’s alright, he’s alright,” Arthur grinned, rubbing Billy’s shoulder. “Billy boy.”

Your stomach churned. Something was wrong. This was not the kind of conversation that Tommy and Mr Solomons had had the day you eavesdropped. This was not the simple meeting you were promised.

“You want to stay?” Mr Solomons asked Billy; staring at him so intensely you had to look away.

“I’ll stay.”

“You stay there, then, treacle.” Mr Solomons grimaced, and his voice suddenly became much louder. “So! The pharaoh! Have you heard of him?”

Without thinking, you nodded, and he pointed in acknowledgement at you.

“He kept my people, the Jewish people, in slavery for thousands of years.”

“Persecuted, right,” Arthur interjected, pleased with himself for making this astute observation. Mr Solomons eyes lit up with amusement.

“He did, he persecuted my race. killing the innocent, right. So this feast that we’re having here , is basically the day what when the Jewish angels decided the evil fucking Egyptians had pushed their fucking luck!”

“Right,” Arthur added.

“It’s part of our tradition to do this, for in order to make it good with god to kill a king.”

Oh fuck. You glanced towards your cousin. By the look on his innocent smiling face he had not come to the conclusion you had. Okay, keep it cool. From the rumors you knew Mr Solomons was an intelligent man who spoke in idiotic riddles. You could have been misreading things. Sabini could be the pharaoh in the story.

“Right,” Arthur said again. What was Tommy doing at this moment?

“That is the ritual of the sacrifice of the pass over goat.” Mr Solomons said.

Everyone at the table turned to look at the bleating creature.

Arthur looked ill. “A goat?”

Mr Solomons gestured to it. “Yeah, we’re gonna sacrifice it. Tonight. That’s part of the reason why we have to shut the doors as well.”

You wished Arthur had let you keep a gun. You were a sitting duck. Every muscle in your body tensed, ready for the action. No, Tommy wasn’t the pharaoh.

“But this year we thought we’d give the fucking goat a name!” He grinned.

“You named it.”

“We fucking did.”

You averted your eyes as a man put a knife to the goats neck. “Arthur?”

“You named the fucking goat.” He shifted in his chair. It seemed as if he was catching on.

“Evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh-“

“The fucking-“

“And you know what we called it?”

“What’d you call it?”

Your hands balled into fists.

“Tommy Shelby,” Mr Solomons answered with a hint of triumph.

As the blood of the goat spilled on the ground you dropped to the floor. Chaos ensued; a gunshot fired so loud your ears rang. It took a few seconds for your hearing to return. Arthur was screaming. You looked up to see poor Billy slumped in his chair, covered in blood, not moving. You brought your knees to your chest and covered your head to avoid any potential stray bullets. Three of the men had to restrain Arthur, who thrashed and cursed.

Heavy footsteps approached. You scooted back further under the safety of the table. Trying to help him would be useless; you were outnumbered and they had guns.

Arthur went quiet, his freckled face pale.

The back of Mr. Solomons came into view.

“That’s that. So, and the evil Egyptian scum was finally cleansed by the blood of the Passover goat. Mate.”

You covered your moth with a hand.

He kissed Arthur’s cheek twice. “That’s for Sabini.”

Then he promptly bashed Arthur over the head. Funnily enough, it brought back memories of all the times you’d seen Arthur do the same thing to someone else. The urge to laugh overwhelmed you.

Mr Solomons dropped into a squat and placed the gun he’d shot Billy with into Arthur’s hand.

While he was in this position he noticed you under the table.

“Ah, hello there,” he grunted, eyes looking you up and down.

You wanted to swear, or grab the gun from Arthur’s limp hand, or do something very impressive.

He stared at you, waiting for a reply.

“Hi,” you sputtered out. “Is he dead?”

“Oh, nah, that would ruin the fun. You were not supposed to be here tonight.”

“I know.”

“Right. What the fuck am I going to do with you?”

“Let me go?” You suggested. It was worth a try.

He scratched his beard, lost in thought. “Cute, but I think not. That wouldn’t exactly wrap things up nicely, would it?”

A heavy pause lingered in the air. You pulled your knees in even closer, in an instinctual effort to protect yourself.

“Ok. Well! Lads, why don’t you take our guest upstairs?”

“Excuse me? No, no way.”

One of the men grabbed your arm, yanking you to your feet.

“Hey!” You struggled to get your arm free.

Mr Solomons stood up and turned away from you.

“You’re gonna kidnap me and you can’t even look me in the face! Fucking coward!” You shoved the man off but slipped in the blood on the floor, letting him get the advantage.

Another grabbed your other arm and despite your best efforts you couldn’t elbow him off. The near tumble had discombobulated you.

Mr Solomons glanced over his shoulder, as cool as a cucumber. “My good friends the London police are here if you’d prefer to go with them.”

The shock of what he’d said made you forget to fight. “Wait, what?” He didn’t have police on his payroll. Oh, Sabini did, how could you forget?

“Get the fuck off me!” You screamed.

The two men dragged you out the same moment as the doors flung open. A group of police stormed the room.

“Fucking animal came in here with a gun and he shot him in the face!” Mr. Solomons gestured with his cane, ignoring your pleas for help. “And my lads restrained him. Look at him! He’s dead! Is he dead! He’s fucking dead!” His false astonished voice followed you down the hall.

You fought back with all your effort.

“Stop fucking fighting, you’re lucky he didn’t shoot you too!” One of them said.

“Oh, how kind! How generous! Please be sure to thank him for me! Arthur! Arthur!” You didn’t know why you were screaming for him. They were carting him off to jail. Fuck. Would Tommy know? How long would it take for him to find out? “Bastards!”

Going upstairs was the worst part; you managed to slither out of their grip and ran up a few steps before tripping onto your face. They at least had the decency to not laugh.

The upstairs appeared to be some sort of flat. The two assholes threw you into the closest room, probably out of desperation to be free of you.

“What are you going to do with me?” You demanded, although you were scared of the answer.

They exchanged glances. They had let you free but blocked the door.

“Well, we’re not sure. He didn’t really give us instructions.” One said.

“I could give you some instructions. How about you go shove a-“ the threat was enough. Without rhyme or reason you charged at them like a bull.

Before you could spring your attack, they slipped out, locking the door behind themselves.

Slamming your fists on the door, you swore at them, every word imaginable.

Once you exhausted yourself you switched gears. Taking in the room; you noticed a bed shoved against a wall, a large, messy desk, and a small window. The style of the room was at least ten years out of date, and was covered in what looked like ten years of dust. This must be where Mr Solomons slept. For someone who had money he didn’t live like it.

You moved to the one window in the room. Here was a potential escape route. Except for the crowd of men huddled outside smoking. They wore aprons, like the others you saw. There was no way you could get past all of them.

But you could once they left. The only issue was making sure nothing happened to you in between then and now.

Who knew what upsetting plans he had for you? He fucking shot Billy. He could have shot you. Maybe the only reason he did it was because the police were nearby. He could be on his way up here at this very moment.

You needed to block the door. Anything to stall for time.

There was a coat rack in the corner that you used. The large cabinet full of decorative China plates looked easy to push; after a few tense moments of pushing you abandoned it and went for the desk. You investigated your work. The door could still be opened a few inches. Anything more than that would be blocked.

It should be enough. It didn’t feel like it. You were becoming aware of the heavy, dull ache in your muscles. Your ribs hurt from you dropped to the floor and bruises had begun to appear on your arms. You sat down on the creaky bed. If you were trapped in here, you might as well enjoy the “comforts” of this place.

A few hours passed. It had to be the next day already. Your thoughts were with Arthur, wondering if he’d woken up from the bashing yet. And Tommy, if he knew you were being held hostage. He was smart. He’d get you out of this. Unless he’d finally had enough of your antics and disowned you. No, no. Polly, John and Ada wouldn’t let that happen. You were spiraling and tired but too paranoid to sleep. Laying back on the bed, your eyes closed as you strained to listen for any sound. Why in the ever loving fuck had you let Arthur do this? When had he ever done anything smart?

Someone knocked at the door.

“Fuck off.” You said, a conditioned response from years of your cousins barging in on you.

Mr Solomons huffed. “Yes, yes. Listen. I’m not going to shoot you-well, I might if you get on my nerves- I have actually come to the conclusion that you may be quite useful to me.”

You sat up. “What?”

Mr Solomons opened the door, and to your relief, it got stuck on the desk. “Moving my fucking desk around?”

“I doubt I’m any use to you,” you said in your bravest voice. “Tommy will be looking for me. And he will want revenge for your betrayal with Sabini.”

He jiggled the door again. It didn’t budge. “Yeah, exactly. Revenge and all that. And I know he’s fond of you- you were at his house that day- so if I have you, right, as leverage, he’ll be less likely to put a fucking bullet in my head.”

“Did you really put Arthur in prison?”

“Yes, and I’ve just gotten word that Michael...Gray, is it, he’s been locked up too. So Tommy is probably a bit busy at the moment.”

Michael? That was probably a lie. A bluff. Polly would be in shambles.

“So are you going stay in there forever or are you going to come out?” Not taunting. Curious.

“I’ll stay in here.”

“You can come out, I’m not going to fucking hurt ya-“

“I saw you shoot Billy in the fucking head! And nearly kill Arthur!” You barked and flung the nearest object you could find, an empty bottle, at the door.

He cursed and shut the door before the bottle could slam into his head. “Didn’t you listen to a fucking word I said? Tommy Shelby would really come after me then.”

“Fuck the fuck off!” Another bottle flew through the air for good measure. This time the liquid contents splattered on the papers on the desk.

“Fucking hell,” he growled. “Stay in there as long as you want then, yeah?”

Your voice wavered. “He’s gonna come for me! And you’ll be sorry when he does!”

[galaxysessions]

You two are dancing in a snow globe round & round / and he keeps a picture of you in his office downtown…

Amanda looked at her reflection in the cloudy mirror hanging from the interior of her locker door. The pads of her fingers swiped expertly beneath blue eyes, hoping to catch any mascara that had strayed through out her day. She fluffed the hair at the crown of her head, wanting to bring life back to her blonde waves, and in a brief moment of psychosis she contemplated running to Duane Reade to purchase a spray or even a hot tool that could save her. Amanda let out an audible groan - at the horrifying fact that she was becoming her mother, at her disappointment in her subpar hair - and slammed her locker door shut. At least the outfit she had tossed together after her shift was cute: dark jeans and a black top with fluttering sleeves that was just sheer enough to hint at what was underneath. 

She was due at One Hogan Place in 20 minutes.

Sonny had insisted that he owed her dinner. How many dinners had he made for her and the girls? Hundreds, it felt like. How many times had they sat around at bars together after cases? Too many to count. How many empty take-out boxes had they shared? A lifetime’s worth. But this, this was different.

This was a date.

Familiar with the DA’s office, Amanda hoped she wouldn’t run into anyone she knew there. She didn’t want to answer questions about why she was hanging out so late and she was too nervous for small talk. Most of all she didn’t want to have to lie, not tonight. Keeping her head down, she flitted up staircases and down hallways until she was in front of Sonny’s office. She pulled in a deep breath, reminded herself that this man had seen her at her very worst, so her flat hair wouldn’t be the end of the world, then gently knocked on the door. It was cracked open, so she waited a beat before she slipped inside.

Sonny was sitting at his desk, leaned over some paperwork. For the brief moment she was able to, she admired the stretch of his shoulders. When he heard her enter, he looked up. The smile that immediately tugged at his mouth when he met her eyes made Amanda’s heart squeeze in her chest out of overwhelming adoration. “Hi,” she exhaled, somehow both more and less anxious at the sight of him. 

“‘Manda, hey,” Sonny greeted her. He stood up and waved her further into his office, coming out from behind his desk. “Come in, come in.”

“You still working?”

He heaved a sigh, returning a file to its rightful cabinet before turning back to her. “It never ends.”

She perched herself on the edge of his desk as she so often did, setting her purse down on the surface beside her. “Hey, c’mere,” she said when she noticed something: his tie was crooked, collar rumpled, his hair out of place. He had probably had a long day. She reached out a hand to him, nose scrunched as she smiled. “Your tie, you… well, like my grandma used to tell me and Kim after a long day of school, when we’d come home all roughed up: ‘you look like you’ve been shot out of a cannon.’”

Another grin broke across his face as he took a step forward, then stood in front of her, still, obedient. Amanda could feel his warm gaze looking down at her while her manicured fingers reached up to adjust the knot of his tie. “Well, you look beautiful.”

She knew her cheeks were turning pink; God, she hated that. What happened to her poker face? Her eyes flickered up to meet his as her hands drifted up toward his collar. Then she was smiling like a lovestruck teenager, as if no man had ever complimented her before this exact moment. Maybe she just needed to hear it from the right one. “Thanks,” she murmured as she smoothed the fabric of his shirt. She didn’t try to fix his hair - she liked the little strand that had escaped its style.

Sonny was standing so close to her that his legs bumped hers, silently asking her to make room for him. So she did: she parted her knees so she could playfully trap him, lower limbs snaking around his tall figure until her feet hooked loosely around the other side. A huff of laughter escaped Sonny as she felt his warm palms slide up the sides of her thighs to find her waist. Through the thin fabric of her shirt she could feel his thumbs moving back and forth, back and forth, and Amanda suddenly no longer cared about their dinner reservations.

Amanda carefully set the heels of her palms back on the edge of the desk, fingertips dangling. Collarbone prominently displayed, she gave her head a languid shake to move her hair away from her face. She gazed up at Sonny, still caught between her legs, playing against her side. Anticipation was beginning to simmer in the pit of her stomach. “Anything else I can help you with, Counselor?” 

Desire had darkened Sonny’s features and now he appeared mischievous as his eyes flickered over her thighs, her chest, her mouth. “Ah…” he started to answer her, but then he leaned in and kissed her instead of completing his thought. There was nothing gentle or cautious about the way his lips found hers: it stole the air from her lungs and his mouth felt searing hot. Her hands lifted from the desk, one cradling his elbow, another reaching up to his jaw. She loved the prickly feeling of newly formed stubble on his face, a sharp contrast to the softness of his tongue. The long line of his body angled itself closer to hers, and as she leaned back, she felt him let out a rough exhale at the way their forms aligned. 

Amanda had sworn to herself that she would not fuck this up - whatever this was that she was doing with Sonny - by having sex with him too soon, but in that moment she was so dizzy with want that his incredibly nerdy desk blotter was looking hotter and hotter. The hand at his elbow dropped blindly to the shiny metal of his belt buckle. Like a moth drawn to a flame, she couldn’t help but toy with it even though she knew it was a bad idea for more than one reason.

“‘Manda…” Sonny growled her name against her mouth, half in a warning, half in encouragement. One of his hands had wandered up the front of her shirt to ghost over her breast, so whatever he was trying to get her to stop doing, he had rendered his own message ineffective. 

“I won’t,” she breathed against his lips insincerely, fingertips trailing down the line of his fly, teasing, testing, “we won’t…” 

“Mr. Carisi, sorry I’m so late. I’ve got those -“ The voice of a young girl accompanied by the office door swinging open broke them both violently from their heated reveries. They separated from one another like they had been electrocuted: Sonny launched himself backward into his file cabinet, appearing to slam his funny bone in the process. Amanda scrambled off of the desk and on to her two feet, loose paperwork flying, hastily wiping off her mouth with the back of her hand as she stood at attention. The girl looked to be in her early twenties, with unruly curly hair wearing an ill-fitting sweater, but most importantly her eyes were wide in complete confusion. A large manila folder hung from her fingers.

“Lindsey!” Sonny yelped, carding his fingers through his hair. “Lindsey, hi. Hey. I just, you can put those on my desk,” he went on, pointing to the space he and Amanda were just occupying. “Thank you.”

Lindsey cautiously, wordlessly, placed the folder where she was told, then stepped back toward the doorway.

“This is, uh… do you know Rollins? Amanda? Detective Rollins?” Sonny asked Lindsey awkwardly, unnecessarily. His eyes shifted over to Amanda as he explained, “Lindsey is a law school intern here.”

“Nice to meet you,” Amanda offered, arms crossed over her chest to indicate that she was not interested in prolonging this painful interaction.

“Nice to meet you,” the student echoed, tone hollow. Turning away from them both, she let her hand linger on the door handle as she asked, “should I close this?”

“Yeah, please,” Sonny mumbled before his intern disappeared into the hallway.

Alone again in the office, Amanda raised both of her eyebrows and shot him a pointed look.  “Real smooth, Carisi.” Her heart was still pounding against her ribcage, partly because they were almost caught, partly because she didn’t know how Sonny was going to handle something like this. He was so nervous about keeping secrets, whereas Amanda felt like her life had been a series of little untruths for as long as she could remember. She kept her arms crossed like she was protecting herself.

Sonny leaned back against the file cabinet as if he was deflating. After what seemed like forever, he let out an exhale, then reached out a hand to her. “So… how about that dinner?”

note - idk just a lil one shot xoxox

[chiwhorei]

who prays for the headsman?

paring: k. kyoutani x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: 3.2k

warnings: size kink, crying, oral (f. receiving), major character death, pseudo-incest, stepcest, violence (not a gorey depiction), stabbing, a mention of blood, medieval beheading, angst okay this is sad you have been warned

a/n: Hello! HQHQ monthly collab time, sinners! I’m super excited to share this with you all, it was truly a work of love. All of the other amazing fantasy collab pieces can be found here!

hymns: murder song (5, 4, 3, 2, 1) - AURORA, the judge - twenty one pilots

“The girl’s mother and I are to be wed with haste,” Kyoutani Kentarou’s father pats his small head, smoothing down the blond locks, “Be sure to make y/n feel comfortable. She isn’t your blood, but she’s your family now, son.”

From the moment his father brought you and your mother home, still wrapped in thick mourning veils and tears, his cross to bare was you.

You needed barely an introduction before melting into the comfort of Kentarou. Wrapping your small hands around his middle and burying your face against his neck. Your stiff black dress crinkles against him. The contact was a magnetic, instantaneous spell. Like moth meeting flame, and Kyoutani would burn for it until the next lifetime. The bubbling, itching hellfire marring his tanned skin for two decades.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces. Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute. There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The virgin light of dawn rouses Kyoutani from a fitful night of sleep, he stretches his arm out to find your form and only catches the empty shell of blankets you’ve left behind. You’re always awake to greet the cresting rays of light as if they need your permission before ascending to greet the rest of the townspeople. You are the end and beginning of each day.

He finds you sat by the stone fireplace, nightdress hanging off of your shoulders and shawl wrapped tightly to keep the winter’s air at bay. You’ve always preferred the springtime. Even so, the smile that turns at the ends of your lips warms his body like the pouring of melted honey. He basks in you for a moment from afar, as close as he ever feels worthy of being.

“How did you sleep?” Your hand reaches out as he moves farther into the cottage’s main room, touching the warmth of his bare chest. Kyoutani pulls you into him, pressing a kiss to your temple and folding your head against the crook of his neck. Your question goes unanswered, as you both already know: there’s never much rest gifted to the headsman.

A tall wisteria tree sits just outside of town. It’s branches are long and decaying. No flowers bloom on a tree the gods have forgotten. But that doesn't deter you from airy footsteps carrying you to it’s base.

“There’s nothing you can do, y/n,” Kyoutani presses, reaching his arms out to ensure you don’t fall, “there’s no fixing rotten roots.”

You scoff, bunching up your skirt at the ends and kneeling at the large trunk.

Where you bound forward without care, your Kentarou is always there to catch you. As you stoop down by the lifeless tree, his stern eyes narrow. You lay your hands against the rough bark, rubbing upwards and back down. All you need is the notion of life. Your eyes shut in concentration, fingers dancing along the coarse texture. It’s there, deep inside, waiting for you to tug at and rouse back to life. You can see it just behind your eyelids, purples and long flora hanging down, surrounding you in it’s beauty.

“H-how did you do that, y/n?” Kyoutani is cemented in shock behind you, where naked, ghoulish limbs once sat are now filled with swaying, violet life.

“I dunno, I get a tingling feeling in my hands. Here,” You pull him down to sit on the ground, pressing your palms to his cheeks. Your touch is like balm on a wound, he closes his eyes and leans in further. His forehead presses against your own. Your hands cradle the sides of his face, thumbs tracing over the soft skin in soothing patterns.

This is wrong, even as a boy no taller than prairie grass; he knows how wrong this feeling is.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?”

Kyoutani’s job isn’t to decide a person's fate, but the blood still soaks his hands all the same. His walk home is always to the beat of heavy, warning footsteps. His figure is looming, shrouded in thick leather and chain medal. The faulted axe hangs by his side, gripped tightly and weighed down with the heavy smell of iron. He counts his sins every night, prays for absolution but still scrubs the blood of strangers off of his arms and wraps you up in them.

“You fucking bastard,” a strangers voice sounds behind Kyoutani like a siren. He hears the rustling of critics followed by the feeling of a stone thrown against his back.

“You murdered my brother. He was a good man and you killed him.” Kyoutani sighs deeply, he knows the blame will fall on him with every swing his blade makes, so any retort is swallowed. There’s never much reason to quabble, as word travels in a small town like water through a sieve.

“I know who you are, Kyoutani Kentarou. Your father was a good man, and your sweet little sister grew up to be quite the-” All reason shatters under Kyoutani’s boot in an instant, feet carrying him in his hecklers’ direction. His clenched fist meeting the man’s eye socket with deadly force, vision blurring and reason fleeting. He shouldn’t be handing out home brewed justice, but there’s no rationale exercised when your name passes through a strangers mouth.

Kyoutani is a strong man, but fighting three against one would be a losing battle no matter what. No matter how noble his intent is, a sharp knife to the stomach is impossible to ignore. The stranger twists the dagger, bringing his face to Kyouatani’s ear.

“Say hi to your dear ole’ dad for me, eh?”

He hears the man’s snide voice against the pounding in his head. He feels cold and far away, falling down a tunnel with no bottom.

“They’ll be coming for you, y/n,” Your lover's voice lilts against your back, but you don’t turn to meet his eyes just yet. Your hands busy themselves against the familiar grooves of bark. The wisteria’s flowers create a sanctuary from the cruelty of the outside world. It’s a sanctuary, but this spot is one of original sin. The first brush of lips sealed fate years ago that will be actualized by daybreak.

“I know, Kenta-” Your soft voice usually calms the blonde man in front of you, but under the plague of circumstance, your words are sharp spikes against his heart.

“Why did you do it then? How could you be so careless? The mark of a witch means only one thing.” Kyoutani’s stern voice cuts you off, holding you in place, “You never think about the consequences of your reckless heart. Look at me, woman.” His body towers over you, broad chest against your back. His hand finds your jaw, pulling it harshly to force eye contact. Darkened brown eyes fall upon your watery ones and his angry facade shatters like pottery in the small space between your two bodies. You sniffle in his hold, fat tears run down your cheeks as you stutter a response.

“I couldn’t let you die, you’re the only family I have left. I- I love you, Kenta.” A sob rips through you, the declaration isn’t a new one, but it’s context is uniquely heartbreaking. Kyoutani pulls you into him immediately, wrapping strong, scarred arms around your shoulders. You cling to him, a piece of history repeating itself as it likes to do, wrapped in each other and the royal purples of wisteria.

Your lips quiver an inch away from his, stained with salty tears. Kyoutani feels the warmth of plush skin dangled in front of him, there’s an urgency rushing through him where he’s usually hesitant. There isn’t much more time. Without consulting the angel on his right shoulder, two large hands cup your face and pull your lips against his own.

Your cries are muffled by the sloppy pull of your own tongue into Kyoutani’s mouth. As his traces over yours with a chorus of nips and licks, his hands fall to your waist to bunch up the fabric against your hips. The action causes your body to press flush to his crotch.

“We have one more night together, Kenta. Please.” Your words don’t need much appraisal, you could ask Kyoutani to pull the skies down with his bare hands and he would tear the blankets off of any gods above without a second thought. One more night.

Kyoutani unwraps himself from around your form to sit down on the spongy grass below. The terrain is soft and forgiving despite its location in the dense forest. He watches you above him, angelically outlined in the soft moonlight. The personification of virtue and goodness glimmering off of you like an aura. The purest beauty to ever exist, and he’s at the helm of it’s destruction.

The sound of your dress pooling at your feet pulls him from mulling over his past transgressions. His eyes follow a line up from said garment to where your bare cunt is nestled between hip bones. His gaze climbs farther, lacerating the memory of every dip and curve so they scar against his heart. He needs to remember everything.

You join him on the soft grass, knees swung on either side of his large thighs. His hands find your hips again, pressing into the flesh as you begin to rock lightly against him. Your movement is disastrous to his resolve, the tension in his body delivers harsh oval bruises against the skin of your ass.

“I love you. I love you. I love you.” Your confessions are accented by kisses against Kyoutani’s cheeks and lips. Your soul, your heart, your everything are each other’s; and tonight is the final assemblage.

Kyoutani’s touch is like scarlet fever against your body, burning in its journey to grope any flesh he could reach. His fingers have to cement this feeling into his fingerprints, after tonight only the phantom pains of you will remain.

“You feel so good Kenta. S-So right.” Your mewls rattle around against his skull, as one palm comes down to meet your heated pussy. The most morally abject sin he’s committed- even counting the heads that roll by his feat every day- is you. But still; he can’t argue the morality of your body writhing naked above him when his cock is already straining angrily against the leather of his pants. His fingers trace down from the hip bone to where your puffy lips sit. It’s amazing how sweet, how soft you are. Where Kyoutani is calloused and harsh, you are smooth and silken. Perfection. Depravity.

As one thick finger proads against your hole, your hips buck with new resolve. You crave more than just fleeting touches and stolen glances. You want him to let go completely, something he’s only done a handful of times. You need him to.

“I’m not made of ceramic Kyoutani. You treat me like a child, but I’m stronger than you seem to believe.” You use your family name for punctuation, but the sentence comes out melted on the edges when he sticks another digit in to join the first.

“Don’t you think I know that, y/n. Fuck. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever known,” a resounding slap meets your ass, jolting you farther against his fingers, “but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t protect you. That’s my job, damnit.” His thumb finds your swollen clit with ease even within his flustered state and presses down, “I failed you.”

You don’t trust your own voice to answer, you know nothing you could say would ease his heart. All you can do is push forward in hopes that one night can make up for the life he’ll have to live without you. Your hands move down to loosen his suffocating pants, wobbly knees digging against the ground as he eases the leather down his legs.

Your hand grabs a hold of his hard cock, stroking from his thick base to reddened tip. The touch is familiar. Something that wracks him with guilt but fills his soul with warmth. It’s always been your touch. Similar to the sparks rendered from striking flint, your touch lights up his every nerve

Kentarou’s fingers move back to work you open for him, your head falls back, causing the fat of your tits to bounce against his chest. His other rough hand comes up to palm your breasts, pinching your hardened nipple and pulling down. You cry out in pleasure at the attention, senses overwhelmed by your lover’s ministrations.

“Please, please do something.” Your voice is desperate against the shell of his ear, pleading for more. More of Kentarou, and naively, for more time.

With a swift, practiced movement, the blonde moves you to lay against the grass. He removes the blood-stained shirt from his chest and kicks off his pants. His body eclipses yours, shielding you from view. You’re surrounded by him, the heady scent of sweat, the sound of the racing heart against his ribcage like a trapped songbird. It’s all Kyoutani, it always has been; your home, your confessional, the safest reprieve and your most vile secret.

Kyoutani’s cock is freed from its confines to slap deftly against his stomach. Your mouth tries to swallow as if filled with dried tea leaves, his size isn’t always the most accommodating. Even so, you lift up on one elbow to curl your fingers around his shaft and groan once again when your pointer finger and thumb don’t meet. Kyoutani opens his mouth to speak but you answer before the words fall.

“Don’t be gentle, Kentarou, ” your dwarfed hand tugs him towards you, creating a dizzying pressure, “I can take it.”

There’s no room for argument in your words, so he dips down to kiss your lips once again. “Let me taste you, y/n. Just one more time.” His eyes hold flames but regard you as softly as possible. You nod in agreement. His lips running down from your neck to your hips, you feel the chapped skin against your own. With each peck, a path of tears follow in tandem. His shaky cries are hidden behind the moans being pulled from your lungs. You don’t acknowledge it, for doing so would just make the wracking pain even worse.

There’s no use speaking of your combined suffering, it’s already dug it’s blade into Kyoutani’s vertebrae.

Once his mouth reaches your wet pussy, there’s nothing left of his conscious. Where guilt usually lies, madness replaces. The first swipe of his tongue is painfully slow, he has to savor this taste, your taste. Your soft, swollen lips are the gods’ manna and he’s been given one last chance to indulge. Kyoutani’s tongue finds your clit and flicks upward, just the way that’s always made you squeal. You’re coating his chin in slick, and nothing else will ever quench his thirst like this again. He could stay in between your legs for the next century, but rips himself away from your dripping cunt.

Your mouth is captured in his again, tongue and cheeks coated in your own arousal. The feeling distracting you from the reddened tip prodding at your tight hole. You suck in a sharp breath as you’re worked open. Every vein and ridge tugs against your snug walls. It hurts, it always does, but there’s nothing that’s ever felt better either. You bite his collarbone in a feeble attempt to keep quiet, nails cresting small shapes against his back as he slides farther and farther in.

“My pretty girl, so perfect for me.” Kyoutani’s hips meet your ass, giving you a moment to acclimate. You’re pulled taut around him, cock dragging against you as he pulls back. He remembers your previous words. I can take it.

His hips slam against you with ferocity. Every expanse of fat on you bounces. Thighs, tits, ass- all moving with the pace he sets. His cock is begging for release with every union of his tip to your cervix. A litany of cries and pleas fill the surrounding air, lilting around to bounce against the drooping flowers.

“Please Kenta, I’m- I’m going to.” Your sentence breaks off at the end but he puts them back together. He coos you, “I know, little one. Let go for me.” He presses two fingers against your clit once more to rub tight circles.

Your toes curl against the grass below you, body locking up as the blood running through your veins is replaced with gooey syrup. Years of tension and shame pull tightly against your body and snap in an instant.

Kyoutani can’t hold off his own orgasm any longer, not with the vice grip you have on him.

Not with the sound of the constable's horses drawing closer to the old wisteria tree.

It’s easier to see the resulting moments in pieces.

Kyoutani’s blade is sharpened meticulously. “A dull axe is worlds more painful.” Even as his heart is being torn from under his breast bone, webs of muscle and tendon snapping like sewing floss the closer he walks to your kneeling form, he remembers his father’s words.

The ringing in his ear drowns out the sound of your sentence being passed, it’s better he doesn't hear the official crimes you are posed with, lest he swings his weapon against the priest instead. He wants to reach out, to untie you and run away, to find a new world. A world where he hears the pattering of little footsteps and sees chubby hands clinging against your apron. A world where he wakes up to your wrinkled cheeks and graying hair.

Shiny, silver blade raised high and gleaming in the light, a sharp swipe of the weapon through the stale air, and finally a thump of weight against the ground below. Still, quiet, and absolute.

There’s no escaping the headman’s blade.

The wisteria tree is the beginning and end. Long, purple flowers sealing fate. Kyoutani pulls reluctant feet to the tree's base, his forehead pressing against the bark. He turns around and slides down to sit against the trunk. His hands roam against the texture of the grass beneath him. He remembers the spindly branches and decaying wood from years ago when he closes his eyes, he remembers your hands clawing back it’s life from the lowest level of hell.

When his eyes open again, they are met with yours. Soft, beautiful, and achingly familiar. You smile, lips turning upwards and teeth peaking out slightly. Your hand reaches out to cup his face, a dull crackle of warmth reaches his skin where forest fires use to smolder. It’s not the same, but it’s you. He knows it’s you somehow. Whether it be a cruel trick from the gods or his brain succumbing to madness. It’s still you. Your warmth is surrounding him again, and it feels almost right.

“Do you feel it, Kenta?” Your voice is warped and echoes like a hollow drum, he can’t help the tears falling in thick streams. It’s you. He reaches out to touch you, but his hands remain empty and cold. You disappear in a second, your face vanishing from where he swore he could almost feel your lips against his own.

You leave him once again and take the bright flowers of wisteria with you.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[msmarvelouswinchester]

Better Than Fiction

Summary - What happens when Dean catches you reading a very inappropriate piece of writing?

Pairing - Dean x Reader, Sam x Reader (platonic)

Warning - Fluff, Angst, Crack, Smut (the four horsemen are in this fic), unprotected sex 18+, kissing, swearing, fanfiction, a bit of ogling Dean.

Word count - 2.6k

Square filled - Smut ( @anyfandomgoesbingo )

A/N - This is my submission to @evilskank-inthemegacoven's Bingo challenge. This is also my second submission to @supernatural-jackles' Biweekly challenge. Prompts are in bold (2 prompts used)

I wrote this crack fic because I was going through a terrible writer's block and I had to write something different from what I usually write. Hope you like this!

Thanks to @miss-nerd95 for beta'ing this! <3

You gasped loudly as he threw you over the bed, pupils blown with lust as he drank you in. You had never seen such hunger in his eyes. He was hungry and he made that clear as he ripped off your blouse in one swift motion leaving you just in your shorts.

All of your rational thoughts flew out of the window as he started leaving kisses down your body. His hands massaged one of your breasts as his mouth latched onto another, eliciting a deep moan from your mouth as his tongue flicked your hardened nipple.

You knew this was bad but you were taken by the piece of writing like a moth drawn towards the flame. You had put your hands in the fire, willingly, and now you were going to get burned by it, but you couldn't stop yourself from reading the next lines.

“De-” you whimpered as he let go of your nipples and started to work on your pants. His hands brushed your clothed core as he murmured, “Mhm, so wet for me already. How long have you been thinkin’ ‘bout me, sweetheart?” Dean ripped your panties and let out a low growl, making you shiver in anticipation.

“Long enough.” You purred. He pulled at your panties as he captured your lips in a passionate kiss. His teeth grazed your lower lips, drawing out a low moan out of you.

A small whimper left your lips as you looked around the empty bunker, thanking your luck that Sam and Dean were both out to pick up some supplies. You contemplated whether to move your reading to your bedroom or stay at the War Room table surrounded by piles of lore books.

You didn't even know how you ended up on this fansite because all this time you clearly had no idea that fans from all over the world were writing certain stories involving the Winchester based on the books by Carver Edlund. You were supposed to be researching for new cases, not read some erotic piece of writing about Dean Winchester, your best friend, but you somehow opened this site and you did come across a really sensual story, and ever since you started reading it, you couldn't stop. So there was no turning back now.

You let out a little sigh as you read on, knowing very well your panties were now ruined.

“God, you're so beautiful,” he whispered into your ears. He licked his lips, his eyes raking over your naked form.

“And you're overdressed,” you whined tugging at his jeans.

“Someone's a little too eager,” he smirked and pulled his shirt over his head, throwing it on the floor. You could see his growing excitement strain against the material of his jeans. Your hands reached out to palm the very noticeable bulge but he quickly swatted your hand away.

“Tonight is not about me, it's about you, sweetheart.” He smirked.

“Mhm,” you nodded, unable to form a coherent sentence. You threw your head back as you cried out in ecstasy when Dean put a finger inside you. He pumped twice before adding another. Your eyes fluttered shut as he curled his fingers in you, the tips brushing against your g-spot repeatedly, the action drawing out a loud moan from you. You could feel yourself edging towards the climax as Dean kept on repeating the motion.

You bit down on your lip, trying to stop your own moan that was threatening to leave your mouth. Your free hand gripped your thigh tightly, nails digging into your skin through your jeans as you felt your face on fire.

“Fuck,” you cursed as he pulled out his fingers just before you could come. He had a devilish smirk on his face and you wanted nothing more than to wipe it off. He quickly opened the button on his jeans before pushing it down along with his boxers, his hard length springing free. You watched him as he took his cock in his hands, pumping himself twice before rubbing up and down his length, the tip of his length beaded with precum.

“Are you going to fuck me tonight?” You were getting annoyed with his teasing.

“Such a needy little thing, aren't you?” Dean pressed his lips onto yours in a chaste kiss before lining himself in front of your entrance. You sucked in a deep breath as he pushed himself in you. He-

You slammed your laptop shut as you heard the boys coming down the stairs. So lost in the story, you didn't even hear the boys closing the door of the bunker.

“Honey, we're home!” Dean teased, as he rounded the corner of the stairs and stood across the table. “You okay?” He narrowed his eyes at you as he placed the pack of beer on the table.

“Y-yeah. I'm great. Awesome. Amazing. Fantastic,” you blurted out and mentally slapped yourself - like that was totally going to help you and not raise any suspicion.

You looked at Dean with hooded eyes, feeling like you were seeing him in a new light. Were his eyes always this beautiful shade of green? Your eyes travelled downwards as you gulped at the sight of his jeans hanging low on his hips.

“Y/N?” You jumped at the voice of Sam.

“W-what?”

“Are you okay? You look a little flushed,” he asked with worries in his eyes.

“Stop asking me if I'm okay!” You exclaimed.

“Okay,” Dean raised up his hands in defence. Grabbing your laptop from the table, you stood up and turned on your heels to go to your room.

It had been three days since you had read the story about Dean, which you had eventually completed reading once you were alone in your bedroom. Three days since you had spent every spare minute you had to look up more of those writings about Dean. But now, you regretted it because every time you crossed paths with him, you wanted nothing but to rip his clothes off and jump his bones. You cursed Chuck for writing about the lives of the Winchesters and publishing it, giving way to the inspirations for these fanfictions. Your feelings toward him had intensified and you couldn't even form a complete sentence without stuttering while talking to him.

Even though Dean was indifferent to the change in your actions, Sam had quickly caught on to it but you had kept your mouth tightly shut, though you didn't know how long you would be able to control yourself around him - especially after tonight.

As you laid in the bed of a rundown motel room, you picked up a pillow to cover your ears, trying to drown out the voices coming from Dean's room. The banging of the headboard against the paper thin wall and the loud moans of the girl made you wonder if sex with Dean was really as good as you read in the stories. You looked over to the other bed in the room and saw Sam’s chest rise and fall accompanied by heavy breathing, indicating he was in deep sleep but Dean's low grunts and moans from the other room made it impossible for you to get any sleep that night.

“Morning,” Dean strolled into your room the next morning, with a stupid ‘I got laid’ look on his face. You glanced at him while sipping your coffee but refrained from saying anything.

“Next time, stay at another motel if you decide to bring home a girl,” Sam grumbled at his brother.

“So this is what it is all about? I swear you both are so uptight. You just need to get laid,” he smirked, taking a seat at the table across you.

You looked at him again but didn't say anything. You knew it was stupid to be angry at him. He was a man with needs and it was not like you had said anything to him about your crush.

“What's the matter with you?” Dean asked. You ignored his question as you grabbed your FBI clothes before marching off into the bathroom. Closing the door behind you, you let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't think straight with Dean Winchester looking like a freaking Vogue model in a suit. You took your sweet time to put on your clothes before leaving the bathroom.

“Y/N,” Dean said the moment you entered the room. You didn't even bother to look at him. “You can't ignore me forever.”

“I'm not ignoring you,” you finally spoke, “I'm just not talking to you.”

“Why? What did I do, sweetheart?”

“I'm not your sweetheart, Dean Winchester,” you snapped, surprising him.

“Easy there tiger,” he joked before slipping into his work persona, “So what do we have?” Dean picked up your laptop and logged into it before you could say anything. Your eyes widened in horror and embarrassment as you saw Dean’s face scrunch up, his eyes moving swiftly over the laptop screen.

“I had no idea you were into fifty shades, Y/N,” he chuckled.

“What?”

“This. You were reading porn.” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Oh Y/N. I was so wrong abo-” He suddenly stopped mid sentence as the playfulness left his face. “What is this?” Dean frowned.

“I….I don't-” You stammered. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to find out.

“Dean?” Sam called out to his brother, noticing his change in expression. The older Winchester shoved the laptop towards his brother, all the while glaring at the electronic device.

“What the hell?” Sam exclaimed as he took a look at the screen. “Y/N. Tell me you weren't-”

“She clearly was.” You winced at how Dean spit out those words.

“I can explain. I just came across-”

“Don't.” Dean snapped and stormed out of the room.

The hunt was a success and right now you and the Winchesters were celebrating the success in a bar. You rolled your eyes as you saw Dean flirting with a blonde so you knew you weren't going to get any sleep tonight either but what bothered you the most was that Dean had barely spoken any words to you since he found out about the stories.

“Hey are you okay?” Sam asked as you sat there at the counter nursing a glass of drink.

“Y-yeah I'm fine,” you whispered.

“Talk to me. You know your secrets are always safe with me,” he smiled.

“What's left to say? I came across a story. It was an erotic piece of writing with, uh-Dean, and I read it. Now I can't look at him without thinking that I invaded his privacy. I know it's all fiction but I read porn about my best friend. Everytime I see him, I am reminded of how he flicks his tongue-”

“Y/N! Too much information,” Sam groaned.

“Sorry.”

“What you did is wrong but you can't turn back time, can you?”

“No but what am I supposed to do?”

“Get laid. Relieve some of that tension.” Sam shrugged, making you glare at him.

“I love your brother, Sam who is over there flirting with that blonde, not talking to me. I-I can't do this. It's better if I just pack up my bags and permanently move to Antarctica.” You muttered.

“Y/N, be realistic. Talk to him or find someone to scratch your itch.” Sam said, getting out of his seat before walking away from you. You flagged the bartender for another round when you noticed a man slide into the seat next to you.

“Hey gorgeous. What is a pretty little thing like you doing all alone here?” You wanted to puke as soon as you heard the man speak. He placed a hand on yours, making your shudder.

“Hey,” you said, trying to use some of Sam’s advice and it was only for one night.

“Want to get out of here?” You fought the urge to roll your eyes at the man’s straightforwardness, he could have at least bought you a drink.

“Uhm-” you played along.

“Come on baby. You and I are gonna have an amazing night with your pussy wrapped around my cock-” and that was the final strike. You were ready to get out of the bar but not with that man.

“No thanks, I have a boyfriend,” you mumbled before finishing your drink and storming out of the bar, unbeknownst to the fact that Dean was watching the whole interaction, the woman beside him long forgotten.

Seeing you storm out of the bar, peaked his curiosity. He was never good with feelings so when he caught you fantasizing about him, it took him entirely by surprise. He had stormed out of that room because if he had stayed one more second, he would have taken you right then and there. After that incident, he couldn't get you out of his mind and that was making him uncomfortable because it was getting impossible for him to continue walking around with a hard on.

Three harsh knocks on the door of the motel room interrupted your solo drinking session. Annoyed, you went to the door only for Dean to push it open and get in quickly

“Dean? What are-” your words were cut off by him loudly closing the door behind him. “Look I'm sorry, Dean. I know you can't even probably look at me. I am so sorry-”

“Why did you read about me?”

“What?”

“Why did you read about me? Why not read about Sam?” He raised his eyebrows at you.

“I-I….well. It's-I don't exactly have a reason-”

“Y/N.” He cocked his head.

“Fine. I like you. I like Sam too but he is like a brother to me and you're you. I-” you stopped rambling when you heard him scoff lightly.

“Then what's the matter with you?”

“Huh?” Now you were utterly confused.

“One moment you say that you like me and the next you are flirting with a sleazy bastard at the bar,” he huffed.

“You saw that?”

“Of course I did.”

“I thought you were angry at me because I literally read porn about you. You stormed out of that room.” You fiddled with the hem of your shirt as you whispered the words to him.

“I was angry but not at you. I don't like Chuck’s books but I kinda feel proud that you read porn about me,” you looked up at Dean and saw him smirking, “I was angry at myself because all this goddamn time I kept thinking you didn't feel the same.”

“What?”

“You have read about what fake-me can do, wanna see what the real me can?” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“W-what?” At this question, Dean leaned in, cupping your cheek as he captured your lips in a kiss. Your hands travelled all the way to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. His tongue swept across your lips, making you whimper. You both stumbled back to the bed, his lips still on yours. You only separated for a few seconds when you two quickly undressed.

“Dean!” You cried out as you felt yourself coming undone, followed by a guttural groan from Dean as he spilled inside you, coating your walls with his seed. He panted, dropping his head in the crook of your neck as you both came down from the high. Raising his head, Dean looked at you with a fond expression on his face as he pulled out of you, rolling to the other side of the bed.

“Whoever said it was very wrong. Reality is so much better than fiction,” you giggled, looking at the man lying beside you. He turned his body to pull you closer, pecking your lips.

“I can't argue with you on that. Now no more reading about me, okay?” You nodded a stupid grin on your face.

“I got the real deal.”

“So you're not moving to Antarctica, are you? ‘Cause I would love to call you mine and I'm not good at long distance stuff,” Dean smirked.

“No, Winchester. I am not going anywhere because I would love to be called yours. Also remind me to kill Sam in the morning.” You huffed, making Dean burst out in fits of laughter.

Feedback is highly appreciated!

[gwynrielendgame]

Sad nessian part 3

Nyx pov

This is not a super popular fanfic of mine but I had this written (truly it is not edited) but I hate leaving anyone hanging so this is for you! @haepaw

Nyx loved pissing off his father. Even at the young age of 137 (young in fae years) Nyx found any excuse to disobey his father, including participating in underground fighting rings. He wouldn't lie, he also liked the boost to his ego his undefeated title gave him, but mostly he did it because his father told him not too.

"Remind me why I come to this again? Mom would kick all of our asses if she knew about this." Velaris grumbled from her seat next to them. Nyx's two younger sisters came to these fights with him. They always said it was because they didn't want him hurting himself, but he thought part of them wanted to disobey their father as well.

"Mom won't find out." Violet rolled her purple eyes- the only one to receive that trait from their father. "And because we can't let him get killed. It would be terrible for the night court's image."

They all sat side by side on a bench, waiting for the next fight to begin. Nyx was fighting someone new tonight and he was excited about it. He was tired of easily defeating the same fighters every week. He began to wrap his hands while his oldest sister, Velaris, continued to ramble.

"I'm a terrible liar." She groaned. "One look from Azriel and I'll jabber like a canary. I cannot believe I have managed to keep it a secret this long. I have to avoid everyone for at least a day after. Ugh why must you be on a mission to piss off dad at least every five seconds. Could you not try getting along for moth-" Thankfully Velaris was cut off by the announcer. Nyx jumped to his feet, hopping from one foot to the other as his fight was about to start. He began walking to the ring when Violet called out.

"Good luck."

"I don't need it." He sent her a cocky smile before stepping on the mat. He cracked his neck then looked at his opponent. It was a female- Illyrian by the looks of her wings. He was surprised to find they were not clipped. As much as his father tried to put a stop to the outdated practice, most females found themselves being clipped at some point anyways. She was beautiful, almost looked familiar to him. He felt as though he knew her, but at the same time knew he didn't. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a way that showed off her sharp cheekbones while her large eyes were hazel- a typical Illyrian trait. He was trying not to seem thrown off by the pretty female, however, that was much easier said than done. He had only fought one other female and she closely resembled a troll, so her looks had not played much of a factor. The female sent him a wicked smile before tapping both wrists. Illyrian armor began to cover every inch of her as seven, red siphons appeared. Nyx finally let his astonishment show. Not a single Illyrian female was awarded siphons. So how did she get seven of them?

"Where did you get those?" He narrowed his eyes at her. She didn't appear as thief's normally do. She also didn't appear to be a female to participate in an underground fighting ring, so perhaps his radar was off.

"I didn't steal them if that is what you are insinuating." That same coy smile graced her lips. Her voice was low for a females, but once again it sounded almost familiar to Nyx.

"Fight." The announcer sounded off, and the female was instantly a whirlwind of movement. Before Nyx could even reacted, she slammed her fist into his face.

"Fuck." After that stunningly powerful punch, Nyx focused himself into fight mode. He found it hard to keep up with the raven-haired female though. She was using a blend of fighting skills that Nyx was unfamiliar with, and he felt as though he was playing the game of catch-up the entire fight. He was always one step behind her.

"Come on, Nyx! That was pathetic." The oldest brother rolled his eyes at the shout that could only have come from Violet. It was not until the female back-handed Nyx that he realized she was toying with him. His face burned with embarrassment.

"Fucking fight. No need to go easy on me." He grunted as he spit blood from his mouth. The female- he realized he did not listen when the announcer said her name- laughed. She was bruised up pretty badly herself, but Nyx knew it was nothing compared to how he looked. Her siphons flared brightly.

"Aww. Poor High lord's son. Has anyone ever fought you with all their strength?" She stuck out her bottom lip in a pout to continue to tease the male. It struck a chord with him though. He was tired of being babied. He was the oldest son of the two most powerful fae in Pyrinthian and heir to the night court-dammit. He suddenly realized why he liked this fight so much though, she had gone harder on him than anyone else ever had- except for his dead cousin. It fueled him to fight harder. He threw out a fist that connected with her temple. She was definitely seeing stars from the way she stumbled. He guessed she was not expecting that. It had Nyx snickering. She returned with a few well placed jabs that the male knew would be sore in the morning.

"You look Familiar. Do I know you?" Nyx found himself saying as they circled one another. They were both breathing heavy at this point.

"No. Might know my sister though." She threw a kick that connected with Nyx's head. His body splayed out on the ground as he groaned. She did not let up. She sent punch after punch to his face while locking his arms down with her legs. He knew the knockout punch was coming, and so did she because her mouth was by his ear as she whispered.

"Tell Rhysand that Amara sends her regards." His eyes did not even have time to widen before she knocked him out. His last thought revolved around Amara.

Amara was dead and had been for 37 years.

+

When Nyx finally came too, his sisters pounced on him instantly.

"Oh thank the cauldron! I had no idea what we were going to tell mom and dad if you did not wake up within the next thirty minutes." Velaris practically screeched. He realized then that he was in his room, laying in his bed. Both Velaris and Violet were sitting on the end of it staring him down.

"What happened?" He groaned. Last thing he remembered was the mystery female telling him something about his dead cousin. Violet snorted.

"You lost dumbass. Velaris and I had to fly you to the house of wind by ourselves after you refused to wake up. She knocked you out cold." That would explain why his head was pounding. Fuck, she destroyed him.

"Yeah and you are heavy as shit." Velaris felt the need to chip in. He rolled his eyes before sitting up.

"Did either of you manage to catch her name?" It was impossible for her to be Amara. He remembered what Amara looked like and it was not that. Though, now that he thought about it, he realized why she looked so familiar. She looked similar to Amara. Perhaps a sister? Not impossible, but severely unlikely. His aunt Nesta struggled to conceive any children the entire time he knew her.

"I think it was Elle something? They did not announce it like normal, but I overheard someone call her that." Velaris answered while beginning to look over his injuries, her blue-grey eyes a mask of concern. Nothing seemed to hurt quite as bad as his head.

"I think I could sleep for three hundred years." He muttered.

"Good thing we have dinner at the house in thirty minutes." Violet chirped up. She was looking way too perky for someone who just watched their brother get the shit beat out of him.

"There's no way I'm going to that." He fell back in his bed and pulled the covers over his face once Velaris was done with his exam.

"Too bad." Violet replied in a sing-song voice. "Mom said she had something important to share with us and I am putting money down that she is pregnant again." Velaris groaned.

"She better not be. I am much too young to be taking care of their child while they galavant off to gods knows where." The oldest of the high lord's daughters had always taken on a motherly role. Even though, Nyx was five years her senior, she found herself babysitting both Nyx and Violet more often than not growing up.

"You better get your ass up, so Velaris can cover those bruises with makeup- wouldn't want to keep mother waiting." The younger sister strolled out of the bedroom, her purple dress sashaying behind her.

+

Nyx did not know how to broach the conversation about Amara. There was no sly or subtle way to insert it into the conversation. He did not want to discuss it at all, however, he felt this was too important to keep from his parents. They all sat around the dinner table while discussing very unimportant matters. Mor and Velaris were squabbling excitedly about something, Gwyn and Azriel were discussing daggers with Violet, and Feyre and Rhysand were murmuring quietly amongst each other. Only Nyx remained silent. That was enough to catch his mother's attention apparently.

"What troubles you, Nyx?" Feyre's eyes brimmed with concern for her oldest son. He was hardly ever quiet, usually deciding to pick a fight with his father.

"There is no way Amara could be alive right?" He spit out. The silence the befell the room was deafening. His mother's concerned look turned to a sharp one- almost a glare while his father ground his teeth together. Both his sisters gave him a look. A look to say shut up before it is too late. Mor finally spoke up after almost five minutes of silence.

"Amara is dead. I saw Koschei kill her myself. We all did." He looked toward the beautiful female. Unshed tears glistened in her eyes.

"Why do you ask, son?" His mother responded in a defeated tone. He did not mean to cause all of this, but apparently time had not lessened the pain of her death.

"I met a female." He started. Both his sisters' eyes widened as though they thought he was going to out all of them. They clearly did not need to add underground fighting rings to the list of things that will piss off mom and dad tonight. He also did not miss the look that Gwyn and Azriel shared. "She said to tell you," he gave his father a pointed look. "That Amara sends her regards." His father's eyes narrowed as he scrutinized his son. Rhysand wanted to make sure this was not another ploy to piss him off.

"What was her name?" Feyre interrupted her mate before he could say anything. Nyx began to shift in his seat uncomfortably. Clearly he should have kept his mouth shut.

"Elle something? I did not catch all of it. She looked like Amara. I mean she looks different than her, but similar enough that maybe they are sisters?" Nyx suggested. He watched as his mother and father shared a meaningful look.

"Who is Amara?" Violet had the courage to ask. She was much braver than Nyx. If their positions were switched, he would have kept his mouth shut. He always forgot that Violet was born the year after Amara died. While Velaris was only five years younger than him, Violet was one hundred and one years his junior. She was practically an infant in fae years at only thirty six years old. Technically, fae reached full maturity at twenty-five years, but when you live an immortal life, thirty-six seems young.

"Your cousin." Feyre whispered. Nyx's attention was caught by Azriel's shadows that were clearly hard at work. They were moving around much more than they had been earlier, indicating they were on a mission for information.

"I did not know Aunt Elain had another child." Violet offered to ease the tension. It only seemed to make it worse though.

"She does not." Their mother began. She finally set her silverware down and pushed her plate away. As if she knew that she would be unable to eat anything else for the rest of the night. Her voice was filled with such sorrow and regret that Nyx wished he never brought it up. If only to avoid hearing his mother sound that way. "I have another sister, Nesta. She is mated to Cassian, who I am sure you have seen pictures of around the house. She struggled to have children and when Amara died, it destroyed her. She blamed all of us and denounced us as family. We have not heard from her since."

"Do not leave out why she blames you." Gwyn snapped. It was the first she had said since Amara had been brought up. She was clenching her knife tightly. A stray shadow wrapped around her wrist causing the mates to have some sort of silent conversation.

"She blames all of us because of me." Rhysand finally admitted. Not even Nyx knew the whole story and Amara was his best friend at the time. Nyx sat at the edge of his seat, anxious to finally hear what happened to his cousin.

"I sent Amara on a mission she was not prepared for. She was captured by Koschei and killed in front of Nesta and Cassian, killed in front of all of us." His father's voice was tense- for obvious reasons, but he could see the hurt behind his eyes. Nyx could see the pain his father felt about the role he played in Amara's demise. "Your mother and I thought Amara was immortal- more so than the rest of us anyways. Nesta had great power that was passed to Amara and it manifested in such a powerful way that we assumed she was more immune to death. We were wrong. Nesta was a dangerous female with unknown power. She had threatened to take your life, Nyx, in retribution for the role I played. Cassian, himself, threatened to kill me. However, when the opportunity presented itself, the mates left and have yet to return. I suppose Nesta being pregnant at the time would explain why neither of them have sought revenge after all this time."  Rhysand let out a long, contemplative sigh at the end of his explanation. Nyx was more than a little shocked to discover his favorite Aunt had threatened to kill him. He was devastated by her disappearance especially since no one would explain why they left. He found it hard to believe that his uncle Cassian would allow his mate to do something so drastic, but perhaps grief makes monsters of us all.

"Befriend the female, Nyx." His father suddenly demanded. His tone changing from one of grief and regret to his commanding High Lord voice. Nyx found it grating. "Many fae learned of Amara's demise. Someone could be trying to trick us. Best to keep the enemy close, yes?" Rhysand lifted an eyebrow at his son. The entire table knew that Nyx could not disobey the High Lord command. They also knew he would try his damnedest to piss off his father.

"And what if she is Nesta and Cassian's daughter? What then?" Nyx held his breathe as his father contemplated.

"Then we kidnap her and hope the couple will hear us out before killing the entire city of Velaris."

[feralphoenix]

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

sup hollow knight fandom, i’m back with the picante takes again after having Noticed A Thing.

as with my previous essays i’ll put this guy up on dreamwidth later for accessibility purposes, since my layout text may be too small for high-res pc users. i will attach that in a reblog at a later point.

CONTENT WARNINGS FOR TONIGHT’S PROGRAM: This essay discusses canon-typical body horror and bodily boundary violations, with some side mentions of colonialism.

all game screencaps are mine. the screencap of the wiki is from the “developer notes” (style guide) section of the “cut content” page.

ALSO: if youre from a christian cultural upbringing (whether currently practicing, agnostic/secular, or atheist now), understand that some of what i’m discussing here may challenge you. if thinking thru the implications of this particular part of hollow knight worldbuilding/lore is distressing for you, PLEASE only approach this essay when youre in a safe mindset & open to listening, and ask the help of a therapist or anti-racism teacher/mentor to help you process your thoughts & feelings. just like keep in mind that youre listening to an ethnoreligiously marginalized person and please be respectful here or wherever else youre discussing this dang essay, ty

HOWMST BELL THE CAT? - A treatise on one aspect of how the Pale King sealed the Radiance

We understand more or less how the Pale King’s plan was supposed to work. Stuff Radiance into a no-thoughts-head-empty and silent Pure Vessel to trap, isolate, and silence her, both putting an end to the Infection and killing her for good. Stick that vessel in the Black Egg, which harnesses Void BS to both keep the vessel alive indefinitely and to cover Hallownest (and its neighbors) in a time-defying stasis so that the Pale King could successfully hoard his favorite shiny FOREVER, threatened by nothing. Then put a seal on the Black Egg to prevent anyone from getting inside and harming said vessel while it’s strung up and helpless. And THEN, put protective seals on the anchors (the Dreamers) to the Black Egg seal to protect them from any external harm: The stasis means the Dreamers won't die of old age or starvation.

All in all, a pretty foolproof plan!

...except that the Dreamers are still vulnerable to having their minds breached with the moths’ magic... and the Pale King failed to take into account that his Pure Vessel was a person actually and the amount of toxic stress his training/upbringing put on them made them REALLY POORLY SUITED FOR THEIR JOB... and also that killing 99% of his million children and turning the Abyss into a landfill for baby corpses would take enough of an emotional toll on his wife and #1 enabler the White Lady that she would walk out on him, ensuring he’d only ever have one shot at this whole deal...

Basically it’s the sort of plan that an emotionally constipated, low-empathy sort of guy who pours all his points into INT and has a big fat zero for WIS might think is foolproof. It has big holes in it that the Pale King did not consider to be big holes until he got owned by the various consequences of his actions and fell down said big holes, making the shocked pikachu face all the while. Rip in die, my guy.

Anyway, there’s a lot of incidental information scattered about the game that gives us more insight into the stages of TPK’s plan. Looking at Monomon’s notes in the Archive suggests that she was probably involved in designing the Black Egg; the hidden room in the Weavers’ den points to their being the ones to blueprint the Dreamer seal; the White Palace’s hidden rooms reveal both TPK’s morbid fascination with the Void and his mea culpa wrt his motives and the Path of Pain is certainly suggestive of a lot of things. The White Lady tells us straight out that she walked out on the Pale King because she wanted no part in a second vessel batch, but how TPK didn’t handle that is only revealed via map design and some incidental dialogue from the Old Stag.

This stuff presents us with, if not a full picture, then at least a decent connect-the-dots of certain aspects of crater politics and Pale Court drama at the time, and how exactly TPK’s plan came together.

But there is still one glaring question that these cookie crumbs do not provide us an answer to:

Who shall bell the cat?

How did TPK et al manage to stuff Radiance into Hollow in the first place?

This is the subject of a lot of memes and jokes within the fandom because it's so absurd. Radiance fuckin hates that dude! She’s probably gonna be pretty wary of him considering how he stole her people in the first place! And considering the anti-colonialism slant of the writing - beyond the general sympathetic view Team Cherry gives of each indigenous bug society, Seer makes it very clear that Radiance has very good reason to take violent action against Hallownest - the answer is probably not something like “she’s just that stupid” or “she rolled a crit fail”.

Well... I have an idea of how TPK managed to get Radiance in there. It raises about as many questions as it answers, mind, but it may be someplace to start.

[desc: the hollow knight's entry in the hunter’s journal. top text/ghost’s comment reads: “Fully grown Vessel, carrying the plague’s heart within its body.” bottom text/hunter’s comment says: “The old King of Hallownest... he must have been desperate to save his crumbling little world. The sacrifices he imposed on others... all for nothing.”]

Here we have Hollow’s bestiary entry. Most of what we’re concerned with here is the top text, which says the seal has literally trapped Radiance inside their body. (First of all, ew, TPK.)

We already knew Radiance is literally actually inside Hollow, though: The Infection is leaking out of their body, and to get to fight Radiance, Ghost has to go traipsing into their sibling’s mind. So what’s significant about that here?

[desc: screencap of the outside of the black egg temple, post-infected crossroads. there are large infection blobs in the foreground and background, connected to each other by veins that come from inside the temple.]

The infection blobs are weird and get weirder if you kill enough Lightseeds for the Hunter to tell you their origin story, i.e. that the literal actual sun has been having a very long bad day and cried a lot, and some of the liquid coalesced into living flesh, and some of that living flesh took on a mind of its own to become Lightseeds. (Hollow Knight is a WILD place.)

Lightseeds are Radiance’s accidental children and share a lot of her traits: They are harmless creatures that try to avoid conflict if possible but if pushed will get creative and find ways to fight regardless of their physical limitations. (For the Lightseeds this involves hiding inside Broken Vessel’s corpse and puppeting it around to try to stab you.) They even have her same distinctive yell. And according to the Hunter, they’re born from the infection blobs. These enemies only ever appear in the Ancient Basin, which both Radiance and the Void have ransacked, and in the Infected Crossroads.

The infection blobs are connected to and sort of a weird extension of Radiance because the Infection itself is sort of a weird extension of Radiance. In the game’s internal style guide Team Cherry explains that the Infection started as an accident, not her original intention but what happened when Hallownest tried to block her out.

[desc: screencap from the wiki of style notes attached to seer that describe a sketch of radiance’s finalized backstory. text reads: “The moth tribe were (perhaps) descended from Radiance. However, the King convinced them somehow to seal Radiance away. I guess so he could rule Hallownest with his singular vision, as a god/monarch with no other gods. The moths sealed Radiance away by forgetting about her. Hallownest was born and flourished. However, the memory of Radiance lingered (eg [sic] the statue at hallownest’s crown) and soon she began to reappear in dreams and starting [sic] exerting influence. The King and the bugs of Hallownest resisted this memory/power and it started to manifest as the Infection. Thus the first attempt to seal Radiance failed, and the King had to try another method - the Vessel.” emphasis mine.]

Some fans have posited the blobs as deposits of pupa juice, but given Team Cherry's description of the Infection’s origins I don’t know how likely that is. Since the Void also sticks its squamous tentacles into things via veiny looking things and the Nightmare’s Heart has similar veiny nonsense in the Nightmare Realm, I wonder if it isn’t just a Meddly God Shit thing in general.

Whatever the case, the blobs are very much connected to/a part of Radiance.

And when you’re hanging around them, you will notice two things: They pulse like they’re part of a circulatory system, and you can hear Radiance's heartbeat emanating from them.

[desc: screencap of the game’s title screen with the infected menu theme in use: a glowing orange ball at the center of a lot of black tendony webbing.]

Let’s also think of the Infected menu theme, which you unlock after getting either of the endings where Ghost takes over from Hollow and absorbs Radiance out of them. Ghost is infected and then sealed inside the Black Egg in Hollow's place. It’s suggested by the animation’s staging that Radiance briefly struggles to get out of Ghost after absorbed but is ultimately stuck in them, at which point the seal is reestablished.

If you haven’t used the Infected menu theme yourself, the... interesting thing about it is that it moves organically. The light ball expands and contracts - y’know, sort of like a living organ - and so does the black webby stuff around it.

Also, Radiance’s heartbeat is included in the theme's ambiance.

[desc: hollow’s bestiary entry again]

To cut to the chase, this part of Hollow’s bestiary entry that says “the plague’s heart”? I don’t think that’s just Ghost/Team Cherry being poetic. I think there’s a good chance it’s LITERAL.

I think TPK is the sort of person who could cram a native woman’s literal living beating heart inside his own child’s body so they can use it as... say, a focus to absorb and trap her mind/spirit inside their body, too. Mr. No Cost Too Great is capable of a lot in the name of keeping other people’s claws off his Big Shiny kingdom. This is kind of his whole brand.

But also, like, yuck.

This fits the worldbuilding too; generally speaking Hollow Knight is Body Horror City. Also there’s the case of Grimm: While he and Radiance are loose counterparts at best with WILDLY disparate outlooks and ethoses, his existence serves as precedent that a Higher Being’s heart specifically can be separate from the rest of them.

As I said before, though, this DOES raise as many questions as it answers. If this is another piece in the puzzle of how TPK belled the cat, we’re now left wondering how he got Radiance’s heart to use as Hollow's focus to begin with.

We know he has access to the Dream Realm because that’s ultimately where he hid when Hollow’s seal failed, but who did he send to do the stealing and how did they get away with it? (TPK certainly wouldn’t have gone; his own life’s the one cost too great for him to willingly pay.) Was Radiance’s heart separate from her like the Nightmare’s Heart, or was it a part of her body? (I think the latter is more likely just from her personality; Grimm’s hidden heart makes sense because of how he keeps even his own servants at arm’s length emotionally, whereas Radiance is all heart all the time. I think this makes more sense with their equal opposites schtick too. But this would make for a WAY riskier mission.)

I can imagine all kinds of possibilities. None of them are definitive, but the thing they have in common is that they are all Awful... and how on-brand that is for Hollow Knight as a whole is, maybe, the most persuasive argument for It’s Literally Actually Her Real Physical Heart there could be.

[nosebleedclub]

The Dark Suburb

((Posting again because the original post on June 11th, 2017 6:09pm is no longer available due to me deleting and re-making this blog.))

This is a compilation post of Nosebleed Club prompts from 2015-16 revolving around the concept of “the dark suburb.” 

Family Melodrama

something is wearing your mother

oh god his intestines strung up on the christmas tree

your dog’s body all over the house

banging on cellar doors

a creaking sound in your dead sister’s bedroom

warriors with spears and shields painted on the dining room ceiling of a violent family’s mansion

a woman in an expensive coat and an expensive car headed to her nephew’s funeral

coming home to a completely alien mother

getting a doberman on christmas morning that won’t let you leave the house

the reason your parents fled the city to live in the suburbs

summers in palermo where your father was looking for something

mother’s breakdown in the supermarket

the supernatural car you and your twin got for your 16th birthday

parents strangely and deeply interested in the boyfriend you brought home

a mom urging her son to quit basketball; she senses something is not right

all the holes - dozens of them - your mother dug in your backyard

grandparents hiding the reason your parents are away during your winter holiday break

your best friend doesn’t want to go to your house anymore

grandpa’s ghost followed us into the new house

dad hates her bc she killed her twin in the womb and then her mother

Do I Love You?

your boyfriend’s basketball shorts, his boy-aroma, his ghost between your legs when you watch the video of his last game

girls kissing in a gas station convenience store and a third recording them on snapchat

the boy you like drawing flowers on your ap biology practice test when you switch tests with him to grade

walking across a supermarket parking lot by yourself thinking of a boy you love

red mouth

girlfriend scrubbing the blood off her arms in the bathtub

in a tiny white house in florida, sitting on a beer-can-covered counter, legs spread apart, a boy between them

in a drug-induced haze i left home for his semi truck

he never fucked me without his ski mask on

a girl and a girl and claw marks on the door“don’t ever take me back”

The Occult

the incantation that annihilated a whole suburb

a body that drags other bodies into an oven

the witches gathering in the red lake

inhuman sacrifice

dogs gathered at the edge of town refusing to cross the boundary to the outside

a 10 year old girl with memories of a serial killing spree that occurred when her parents were children

white shirts hanging on branches all over the woods

the town of three-eyed children

arrows raining down on a soccer field

feeding time

mysterious scratch marks on your back

a fairy ring in the field where your sister disappeared

Crimes

just throw it in the back

snap!

we found the body but not the head

clearing in the forest where police found a blessed severed head

jar of baby teeth as evidence

children dressed as angels at the crime scene

seeing a face you thought you buried ten years ago at the supermarket

half a fraternity frozen under a lake

fbi agents rolling into a tiny town in appalachia

a severed arm among the hydrangeas

young men howling on the bridge one year after the murder

police cars prowling through your neighborhood, one after another - watching this from your bedroom window

Teen Dream

getting whipped by a towel in the locker room

best friend making the varsity tennis team

taking a shot of vodka in the bathroom after second period

boy gets a boner during gym class

“i’ll be like helicase i’ll unzip them genes (jeans)”

drunkenly reciting the quadratic equation

fear-mongering homecoming queen

track star died in a car accident

dead bodies photography club

“sorry i fucked up here’s some ice cream” “i’m lactose intolerant you douche”

article about demonic possession in the school newspaper

last pool party before summer ends & her hand on your thigh in your dad’s sports car

the first day back from summer vacation & someone in your friend group brings the whole #squad starbucks

a bonfire, lana del rey & drake blasting, the moon

weekend road trips to the ocean

walking around on the track alone, contemplating some philosophical concept you read about on tumblr the night before

coming out to someone completely random - a junior varsity basketball player

the last homecoming dance

lying on the track at your high school after sunset

getting picked up really early in the morning to go on a spontaneous weekend road trip

the sunday after the homecoming dance where you’re kinda tired kinda still energetic from the night before

inside a fast food restaurant drinking milkshakes eating fries until it closes

chill basement party where there’s white balloons gold confetti / glitter two girls who love each other kissing

sitting in the backseat your parents occupying the front of the car you look out the window you see the rural countryside crawl by

pool pizza party at night simple pleasures like that

on the bleachers during a powderpuff football game

sweating so much you might as well have been swimming it would be embarrassing but all the other boys are sweaty too

lost in the suburbs at like 5am and the world is still pale blue

lost in the city at 5pm the sun sinks its head behind skyscrapers

fights on the lawn of an all boys private school

applying makeup the morning after a breakup

huge friend group made up of oracles + boys’ swim team + legendary heroes + valedictorian

aesthetic blogging on a sunday afternoon just chillin in your bedroom

feeling like you could be something big if you work hard enough at it

getting psychoanalyzed by your teachers and parents and extended family

school bathroom pale blue tiles

a dream with damien hirst-esque elements

sleepover at your friend’s villa and you’re the only one awake

looking out at a black sea from your dead cousin’s bedroom window, seeing a light in the distance

funeral mass

chill that runs down your friends’ spines when you enter the classroom the morning after they tried to kill you

the sickness that spreads through the high school

sometimes i was a body in a dump sometimes i was a saint

he said he’d snapchat my burning body to all his friends

my body was evidence she was trying to get rid of

poison disguised as an eighteen year old

a world war between us

$$$

first: “super rich kids” by frank ocean

fast cars flecked with blood

girls who know you won’t be prosecuted if you’re young and rich and pretty enough

snapchat of a boy with red eyes and a glass of dom perignon with the text IS MY LIFE FUCKING REAL

snapchat of a girl’s dad’s black amex with the words MONEY CAN’T BUY HAPPINESS BUT IT GETS CLOSE

taking your middle-class friends out to nice restaurants but knowing they’re with you mainly for the money

“dude i know you’re only a year older than me but sometimes i think of you as my sugar daddy”

traveling to punta del este to find yourself but losing yourself instead

identifying heavily with the versace logo

an imperial bedroom and all one feels is the weight of all that empty space

“even my funeral has to be luxurious”

Hometown Visions

three dead owls on the side of the road

trees bare, houses barren

lanterns lit up on the dirt road at night

moths in a forgotten shed

a dusty old attic filled with dead rats and flies

seeing half your face in a splintered mirror. washing machine making dangerous sounds

midwest: watching a tornado funnel form from a window that won’t shut all the way

grass in the yard growing tall

girls carrying stray cats home

a cellar door swinging open and a man you never wanted to see ever again stepping through it, into the light

snake skins and insect carapaces organized on a torn mattress

a lovely place god abandoned

bat-filled house at the end of the street

a girl crawling out of a burning car

birds in jars

Hide & Seek

not being able to find anyone in a dark forest because they actually left you and it was just a cruel prank

person seeking you is something much worse than what you thought they were

being trapped in your hiding space & no one can find you no matter how loud you call for help

hiding in your friend’s house and finding evidence of a vile crime their parents committed

finding half of your friend

[mummybear]

The Babysitter

This Is Day Four Of Roleplay May 

Words: 4763

Warnings: Smut (Obviously), Oral Male And Female Receiving (Sharing Is Caring And All), 

Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader, Mentions On “The Wife”, Mentions Of The Kids And Some Random Ex Boyfriend. Think that’s it really.

Pairings: Jensen Ackles x Reader

A/N: Right so I just wanna say this is my first ever Jensen Fic, so please be gentle. Also nothing is meant against anyone in the Fic, it is simply Fanfiction in which this is the idea :) Cheating, Hair Pulling,  Squirting, Angry Sex Biting, Begging, Orgasm Denial.... I mean honestly the list goes on.....

Summery: Being the babysitter for the Ackles family had been nothing but a pleasure, but when Jensen comes home from work in a bad mood the reader finds out just how much her boss loves her short skirts and despises her ex boyfriend showing up at his house.

The front door slams open and you can’t help but flinch where you sit on the couch, the sound echoing through the large halls of the house. There was only one person it could be, with the kids’ mother being away on business. However, Mr. Ackles hadn’t been in the best of moods when he’d left for work this morning. Now you thought about it, he’d been in a terrible mood for days. 

Luckily the kids were in bed, fast asleep. So you only hoped that he hadn’t woken them up. 

Slipping out of the living room, you head towards the front door, where you find him kicking off his boots and hanging up his coat. He doesn’t speak, so neither do you, deciding it might be best that way.

The thing about Jensen Ackles was the type of man he was. There was no getting away from it, not even for the babysitter of his kids. He was tall, strong and just god damn gorgeous. With the most incredible heart and personality. A laugh that never failed to make you smile, not to mention the fact he had the greenest eyes you’d ever seen. 

However, there was also the other side of him. A side that not many people had the chance to see, you had seen it once, a long time ago. But tonight, tonight was different.

You quickly make your way into the kitchen, feeling his eyes on your back as you walk away from him. But you know it’s best to stay out of his way, especially when he’s like this. Mr. Ackles was definitely still pissed off, maybe even more so than he had been this morning. That much you could tell from his body language alone. 

You busied yourself with making him a coffee, hoping that he wouldn’t snap at you. You were seriously beginning to get worried that he knew about your visitor a few nights ago.

“Where are the kids?” he asks suddenly, his voice much louder than you’d expected, which makes you jump, even more so when he leans over you, taking the coffee you’d made him. Your entire body stiffens until he steps back, you’re not sure he’d ever been that close before and you could definitely smell the alcohol lingering on his breath as it ghosted across your cheek. Then again you didn’t hate it at all.

“T-They’re in bed Mr. Ackles. Sir” you tell him half stuttering your reply, ignoring how close he’s still standing, you try and find something to keep you busy on the counter.

“Turn around and look at me Y/N” he demands in a firm tone that leaves no room for argument. 

You turn to face him, but you can’t look him in the eyes, so instead you focus on his chest as you fiddle with the hem of your t-shirt. Swallowing hard, you grip your t-shirt tighter, when his arms fold over his broad chest. 

Sensing he’s getting impatient you finally look up, meeting his eyes and god he looks so good. He’d been on several interviews and photo shoots today. He had dark jeans on, a dark blue suit jacket and a blue shirt and tie, he practically oozes authority and commands attention.

“Is everything okay?” you ask him quietly, your voice just barely above a whisper.

Jensen rubs his hand across his face, gently scratching at the stubble along his jaw as the muscle beneath clenches. He takes another step towards you, nerves get the better of you and you step back. Which causes your back to bump into the cupboard behind you. Placing his hand beside your head on the cupboard, focusing his intense gaze back on you. 

“Do you really think that I don’t have cameras all over my house Y/N? Inside and out. That I don’t see everything you do? Everyone you invite over” his voice is that much quieter as he leans in closer, but you can still tell that he’s beyond angry.

And fuck he knows, it’s the only reason he would be bringing this up right now. 

“Mr. Ackles, please just let me explain. I don’t know how much you were able to see, but please I-” he cuts you off with a shake of his head, you stop talking immediately, clamping your mouth closed as you wait for him to say something.

“How about you just keep your pretty little mouth shut darlin’. You know, try being a good girl for a change, if you can manage that” his tone of voice is really beginning to do something to you, even if he’s snapping at you. But with the things he’s saying, it’s starting to make you feel things that you shouldn’t, want things that you’re not allowed.

You watch as his finger hooks into the top of his tie, roughly pulling it loose and pops the top button. Chewing your lip you give a small nod as your wordless reply. Finally, you can’t take anymore and look away from him, focusing back on your feet. His eyes are far too intense and you feel like a moth being drawn to flame.

“Good. Now since you do know how to listen. Tell me, who was the guy you were kissing in the back yard the other day?”

He still hasn’t raised his voice, yet somehow, that only un-nerves you that much more. Fiddling with your hands you swallow the lump in your throat, your nerves over losing your job are beginning to get to you. Opening and closing your mouth a few times, you wonder if your reason will be enough to calm him down and stop him firing you. 

Suddenly his large hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look up at him again. Your mouth is so dry, he holds you there with his hand and his darkened green eyes.

“You better answer me, Y/N” he demands, his voice substantially louder and firmer than before.

Licking your lips you try to get your breathing under control, gripping your skirt tightly.

“I uh, I’m s-sorry Mr. Ackles. He followed me t-to work, I broke up with him m-months ago. He just won’t take no for an answer. I swear to you, I-I was just trying to get him to leave,” you reply quickly, your voice wavering and shaking the entire time.

“Why’d you break up with him, Y/N?” Jensen asks, a slight smile curving at the edge of his lips as he releases your jaw, letting his fingers just barely brush down the column of your throat. 

The question takes you by complete surprise. What strikes you even more is the look in his eyes and you can’t look away. “I don’t understand. Why do you want to k-” your voice cuts out with a surprised gasp, right as Jensen straightens up so he’s looking down at you even more than before, pressing his body that much closer to yours.

“Don’t tell me. I’ll guess” his tone is completely cocky. “He didn’t hit the right spots huh? Wasn’t he man enough for you baby girl?” he smirks when the quietest breathy moan slips past your lips, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Your skin is tingling all over, the heat is quickly pooling between your thighs and you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to. You’re currently losing the fight with your common sense, you know this is all kinds of wrong. You just don’t have it in you to care. He’s like the drug you just can’t get enough of.

“Something like that” you reply just barely above a whisper.

“You need a real man to show you just how to control this perfect body. Someone who can make you scream, make you beg for more,” his husky whisper just loud enough for you to hear, as his fingers trace the smooth skin peeking out just above your skirt.

Without even realising it you lean into his touch, dragging your teeth over your bottom lip, feeling the throbbing between your legs increasing with his every word. Begging yourself not to let that word slip past your lips. You’re so turned on right now, it’s taking everything you have to hold yourself back, but the submissive in you needs him to make the first move. Swallowing hard you nod,“I do. Need it so bad, but you’re married” the second the last words slip past your lips you swallow hard, clearly your conscience has got the best of you.

He licks his lips seemingly biting his tongue as he bends down eye level with you, that intense green eyed gaze focused back on you.

“Oh don’t worry about her. I’ve been told by a good source, she’s got her hands very full this weekend, with her friend or co-worker. We haven’t fucked in months” he tells you honestly, trying to keep his voice calm, but you can hear the anger behind his words.

You reach out and give his shoulder a gentle squeeze without even thinking, “I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that” you tell him as calmly, dropping your hand back at your side when he shrugs.

“Forget about it, I am” he assures you, giving you that panty dropping wink. “Now that’s out of the way, where were we?” he asks seductively, his eyes flicking down to your lips then back up to focus on your eyes.

“I think that’s probably up to you, Mr. Ackles” you reply playfully, biting back your smirk when he chuckles in reply.

“You really think you can handle me baby girl?” he asks with a grin, ducking down a little lower, resting a hand beside your head, while the other one pushes your hair off your shoulders.

You shake your head, licking your lips, finally letting your eyes drop to his pink plump lips.

“No. But I know you can handle me. Keep me under control, make me beg for more” you tell him practically moaning the last word. You suck in a breath when he leans in close, the tip of his nose brushing your cheek.

“Oh I know just what you need darlin’. Thank fuck, because I am sick and tired of pretending that I don’t want you on your knees, begging for my cock” he practically growls. You cry out as his hand fists in your hair, roughly tugging your head back. “Ah ah ah, be a good girl. Keep it down, don’t make daddy gag the babysitter” he groans hearing your desperate whimper, knowing he’d hit a button with that one. 

His lips roughly press against yours, wrapping his free arm around your waist when your legs threaten to give way beneath you. Grabbing at his suit jacket you pull his body closer as his tongue runs across your lips. 

Your tongue quickly meets his, stoking the fire building between your legs when he takes complete control. Pulling away suddenly, he drags those perfect white teeth over your bottom lip. You breathlessly look up at him with hooded eyes, he looks right back at you, with a look in his eyes like he’s about to devour you.

Jensen’s fingers tighten in your hair as soft lips and sharp teeth make their way down your neck, pausing every now and then to suck marks into your skin. You cling to his jacket as his hand drags slowly up the back of your thigh, slipping beneath your skirt he grabs your ass roughly, unable to stop the roll of your hips as he pulls you closer.

His raspy voice is in your ear again, those soft lips caressing you.

“I bet you wear these little skirts just to tease me don’t you? Dirty girl. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much shorter they are when it’s just me around” 

He releases your hair and drops his hand from your body, taking your small hand in his much larger one, you follow him as he leads you into the living room. 

Closing the door he locks it, the baby monitor on the side remains quiet as he leads you into the middle of the room. You swallow hard as this gorgeous giant of a man looms over you, fingers pushing beneath your thin t-shirt. Pushing the material up your body, his big warm hands that never leave your skin. You lift your arms as he tugs the t-shirt over your head.

“Jensen please, I want your cock” you moan as those long fingers drag over your rib cage teasingly.

His chuckle is low and deep, tongue pressed to the back of his teeth. You suddenly realise that’s the first time you’ve ever used his first name, he doesn’t seem to mind, in fact it seems to have the opposite effect..

“Oh, do you baby. Then be a good girl, get on your knees. Beg for it” the second those husky words leave his plump lips you drop down onto your knees at his feet. Staring up at him like he was the only thing in the universe, resting your hands on his strong thighs. The massive bulge in his jeans practically makes your mouth water. Jensen takes off his suit jacket and tosses it over the arm of the chair, before his darkened green eyes settle back on you once more.

“I’ll be a good girl, please Mr Ackles. Fuck my mouth, just wanna make you feel good.” You beg the older man above you, rolling your hips down into nothing.

You wait on baited breath as Jensen tugs open his belt without a word, you sit up higher on your knees, licking your lips when he pops the button open and pulls down the zip. His thumbs tuck in the sides of his jeans and boxers, he pushes them down to his knees with a few rough shoves. 

Allowing his cock to spring free. You can’t help but suck in a breath and lean in closer when he wraps his long fingers around his thick length, you’re moaning please all over again. He pumps his cock up and down with a firm grasp and you can feel your slick starting to leak through your panties, he’s even bigger than you’d first imagined.

“Look at you, my cock hungry little slut. So fuckin’ perfect. Open up baby girl” he practically growls, tapping the swollen tip against your parted lips. 

You do as you’re told, his words shooting straight to your throbbing pussy. Your mouth open and tongue waiting, you moan as soon as the tip touches your tongue, pre-come leaking freely the heady taste as you close your lips around him. Jensen groans above you, his hands fisting at both sides of your hair, wrapping the thick tresses around his hands.

Swirling your tongue around the swollen tip, you feel his grip tightening, taking him further into your mouth, your tongue dragging along the underside, following that thick throbbing vein.

You whimper when he tugs harshly and thrusts his hips.

“Look at me” he grunts thrusting again, you gag a little but manage to control it, looking up and locking your eyes on those dark green almost black eyes. “So fucking good for me” he moans when you hollow your cheeks and try to relax your throat.

Your fingers dig into your thighs when he thrusts again, forcing himself further down your throat , the noise he makes is so fucking sexy, you loose his eye contact when he throws his head back and moans your name. You can feel the heat rising across your skin, clenching your thighs you can feel the coil in your stomach tightening. 

Your moaning around him as he starts a steady rhythm, hips snapping against your face, saliva mixed with his pre-come leaking from the sides of your lips. You’re so close to coming, with the noises he’s making, the feel of him deep down your throat, hands fisting in your hair. You gasp when he finally pulls out of your mouth and throat, gulping down air as he fists his cock at the base.

“Was that okay?” you ask as innocently as possible, your voice hoarse and breathy.

He grabs your arm, hauling you up off the floor, his hands are tight on your arms as he pulls you into a bruising kiss. His lips leave yours all too quickly. You stumble back with a smirk, seeing that devilish look on his face as he stalks towards you. Jensen shoves you gently, until the back of your legs connect with the sofa and you fall back onto it, looking up at him expectantly from beneath your eyelashes.

He remains quiet as he unbuttons his shirt and drops it to the floor, revealing that perfect tanned freckled skin that’s hidden beneath. You lick your lips as he gets closer, he’s fucking gorgeous. The last thing to go is the tie which is dropped by your foot.

“You know damn well that was more than okay, nearly came down your throat” he half chuckles when you have to bite back a grin. However, that quickly turns into a moan when the front of your plaid skirt flicks up.

“Gotta taste that pretty pussy baby girl” he rasps, kicking off his jeans.

You cry out when he tugs your ankles so that your ass is hanging almost off of the sofa. He presses a finger to those plump lips of his before he drops to his knees, making quick work of pulling your panties off, throwing them over his shoulder. You go push down your skirt but he stops you. Unyielding grip on your wrist. 

“No. That stays on darlin’. You wore it to wind me up, so now you can leave it on” he tells you as he licks up one of your inner thighs, groaning when your slick hits his tongue. “Walking around like a dirty school girl, now you can fucking act like one”

You whimper as he roughly suckles at your inner thigh, dragging his teeth across the skin, before moving higher and doing the same.

“I’m s-sorry, please I-” you’re cut off when his tongue moves through your slick folds, you slam a hand over your mouth as he groans into your pussy, that thick perfect tongue pushing inside you. You roll your hips into his face and he slaps your thigh, but that just shoots straight to your throbbing pussy as two thick fingers circle your clit.

You do it again, begging for more behind your hand. This time however he isn’t so forgiving. When he  pulls his face away you whine a pathetic apology, which quickly turns into a scream of pleasure and pain as he slaps your pussy lightly, three times in a row.

“You don’t get to fuck my face baby, you’re not in charge here. Take what you’re fucking given, am I clear” he growls, pushing your legs up and making you hold them back. 

You nod quickly, nails digging into your legs, feeling two of his thick fingers circling your opening. 

“Yes Jensen. I’ll be good. Fuck please” you beg, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head when pushes those fingers inside you slowly. 

“Fuck baby girl, such a tight little pussy” he moans lowering his lips again, so his breath ghosts over your clit. You can’t arch against him like you want to, you just have to lay back and take it. His tongue flicks out and you can’t help but whine freely, with no hand to hold in your noises now.

 “Only ever been with one guy and your cock twice as big” you pant trying to catch your breath. Your voice comes out a little more worried than you’d have liked it to.

“Don’t worry baby, gonna make you come so hard. This little pussy is gonna fit my cock like a god damned glove by the time I'm done with you” the last part of his promise is muffled as his lips close around your clit, tongue flicking back and forth over the bundle of nerves in time with the rough fast movements of his fingers.

You quickly feel your orgasm approaching, like a freight train hurtling down the track. Your pussy flutters around his fingers as he curls them, repeatedly stroking at that spot that makes your legs shake and your head fuzzy. 

“Fuck, I’m gonna-” you cut yourself off as your orgasm hits hard, your body goes tense beneath him, but he doesn’t stop or slow down.

“Fucking give it to me baby girl, you can do it. I can feel it” he commands before returning his lips and tongue to your clit, applying a little extra pressure with his fingers on every thrust.

You look down at him, eyes lidded barely able to keep them open, he’s watching you when your eyes meet, dark green eyes locked on your face. Your thighs shake and all you can do is gasp for air and cling to your own legs, your stomach burns and you feel like every nerve ending is sparking at once. Jensen groans into you when a wet squelching sound fills the room. 

“Oh! Oh god!” you scream, dropping your legs back onto his shoulders as your body arches uncontrollably, your hand flying to cover your mouth, the other grabs the top of his head trying to push him away, as your entire body shudders. He doesn’t budge, but he does slowly remove his fingers, licking his way down your thighs following the lines of your slick.

“Fuck that was so hot baby, don’t tell me I’ve broken you already” Jensen grins, winking when he finally pulls your legs from his shoulders and stands. All you can do is smile back, whimpering when you move at the sensitivity between your legs.

He holds out his hand for you, which you take gratefully. He pulls harder than you’d expected, so that you’re crushed against his chest, gripping your hair he pulls your lips to his. You run your hands over his chest as your tongues slide perfectly against one another, making sure you touch everything you’ve never touched but always wanted to. 

Your ass bumps into the side of the sofa and Jensen stops, suddenly pulling away from your lips, you barely have time to catch the smirk on those plump lips. He spins you quickly so your back is pressed against his solid chest, hand wrapping around your throat gently as his lips press to your ear. 

“You still want my cock baby? Still want me to fuck you until you can’t walk” he asks deep and husky voice, washing over you like a hot shower, as his fingers flex around your throat.

“Fuck yes. Want you to fucking ruin me, Mr. Ackles” 

That seems to be the last straw, with a growl he pushes you forward roughly, until you fall over the arm of the sofa. He kicks your legs apart and takes hold of his cock, running it through your wet pussy, hearing you mewl beneath him, pushing back against him. He pauses when the head of his cock presses against your opening.

“Is this what you want baby?” he asks in a gravelly voice making you shiver.

“God yes! Please!” you whimper into the cushion under your face.

“Spread those cheeks for me baby, let me see you” he asks, breathing out slowly when he slips inside you a little further. “Wanna see every time my cock slips inside that tight little pussy” he growls pushing in another inch, you comply immediately, reaching back you grip your ass, spreading your cheeks for him, the curve of your back pushing you closer to him.

Suddenly his hips snap forward, filling you completely luckily your drawn out moan is completely muffled by the sofa cushion. Your nails dig into your ass cheeks as he pulls out almost all the way and roughly thrusts himself back inside, pushing the sofa forward with the force.

“Oh fuck! Look at you. All mine” he grunts possessively, repeating the action a little quicker again and again, your hands slip from your ass and push underneath you, holding yourself up.

“Put your fucking hands back Y/N” Jensen demands slapping your ass roughly, as the other fists in your skirt, pulling you back against him,

“I-I can’t” you cry out again as he slams forward, hips slapping hard and bruising against your ass.

“Fine” there’s a pause as he stills behind you. Bending down awkwardly, he grabs his discarded tie, roughly yanking your arms back from under you, he pulls your wrists together resting them on your ass. Tightly securing the tie around them, he tugs making sure it’s tight enough. “There. Get out of that” he grunts through that dark chuckle, picking his pace up, until your mouth drops open in a silent scream.

His thrusts are brutal and unforgiving and you’ve never felt more in heaven in your life.

“J-Jensen, I’m gonna c-” he cuts you off with another harsh slap to your ass.

“No. You’re gonna hold it baby girl, you’ll wait until I tell you. Call it punishment for movin’ your hands” he snaps with another powerful slap to your ass. 

You gasp through a moan, feeling your walls clenching every time he pulls you back onto his cock, while he continues fucking into your tight wet heat. Your head is spinning, pussy throbbing around his thick length, feeling every ridge against your inner walls. 

Your nails are digging harshly into your palms, as he continues to rail into you at an inhuman pace that has your legs shaking. Jensen grips onto his tie forcing your body off of the sofa, you’re trying so hard to hold back your orgasm, but you can feel that familiar feeling from earlier, heating back up in your stomach and you know you couldn’t stop it even if you wanted to.

“Jensen. I’m gonna do it again! Please, I can’t stop it” you scream, clamping your mouth shut, biting into your lip harshly to try keep your noise down.

Jensen whimpers as your walls clamp down around his cock violently, his balls draw up and he has to grit his teeth.

“Do it, my dirty little slut. Fuckin’ squirt for me baby” 

Your mouth drops open in a silent scream, feeling Jensen’s come fill you full, even leaking down your thighs. With sweat soaking your skin, your orgasm hits so powerful that it forces Jensen's cock from inside you. You’re practically sobbing when it stops, shaking violently you faintly feel him undoing your wrists before he pulls you back against his chest, those strong arms wrapped around your body holding you up. Your head drops back onto his shoulder as he gently sucks and licks at your neck, teeth softly scraping over your skin. 

“I gotcha baby, you’re okay” he murmurs against your skin, his voice like honey.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you’re something else Mr. Ackles” you giggle as he turns you in his arms to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. Finally pushing your fingers into his thick hair when he kisses you, both of you capturing each other's moans. The easy eager slide of his tongue against yours is just what you need, he pulls away with a gentle sigh brushing his fingers through your hair.

“You have no idea how much I needed that baby girl, you were fucking perfect” he winks with that panty dropping smile.

“You have no idea, Jensen. You were even better than I thought you’d be” You giggle at the look on his face. “Yes I’ve thought about it” you confirm, gently slapping his chest when he wiggles those eyebrows at you.

“Me too, a lot” he chuckles when you blush.

“So, I guess I should get going” you smile, swallowing the nerves and the worry of this being awkward as well as the fact you may have lost your job. On the account of you fucking your boss.

“Oh no you don’t. We have a lot to talk about young lady, specifically earlier” he pauses watching the confusion crossing your face. “So, you like the sound of daddy gagging the babysitter, yeah?” he grins when your blush turns from pink to red and you shift awkwardly. Jensen presses just under your chin getting you to meet his eyes again.

Biting your lip you nod. “Say it.” he tells you rough hand gripping your ass beneath your skirt.

“Yes daddy” you breathe out just above a whisper. 

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[philliamwrites]

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

Fandom: The Case Study of Vanitas (Mochizuki Jun)

Pairing: Noé/Vanitas

Tags: #vanitas pines for noé, #implied/referenced past rape/non-con, #implied/referenced past childe abuse, #blood and unjury, #angst and feels, #forehead kisses

Words: 3.7k

Summary: Vanitas can’t sleep so he does the only other thing he’s good at besides curing vampires from the curse: harass Noé. It escalates royally and doesn’t end good. No one is surprised.

La Belle Dame Sans Merci

   Moonlight casts slim, silver lines on Noé’s face.

  Sitting on the windowsill, Vanitas can see the slow and steady rise of Noé’s chest, a constant rhythm speaking of life. How he has survived until today is still a wonder to Vanitas. Only a few feet separate him from the sleeping, defenceless body—a body he knows all too well capable of pulling tense like a bowstring when ready to strike; an animal equipped with lethal tools to hunt and destroy. But Noé is a paradox of black and white, a pacifist at heart that opens up too easily, too quick. Why else would he be interested in someone like Vanitas?

    Their conversation at the top of the bell tower is still ringing all too clear in his head, a memory he’d rather strip from his mind and drop in the deepest part of a vicious, dark sea. Noé is dangerous, because unbeknown to himself, he has worked a strange magic on Vanitas, pulling at invisible chains curling around his neck however Noé pleases. If Vanitas didn’t know better, he’d call it Fate, but she has abandoned him long ago to suddenly return like a sullen lover and beg him for companionship.

    “Louis,” Noé murmurs, drawing back Vanitas’s attention, and no, he isn’t jealous, not in the slightest. He just wants to reach inside Noé’s mouth and rip that name out of him. He hates that even though Noé is easy to read like an open book, it turns out its pages are filled with enigmas Vanitas is unable to solve.

    A little huff escapes him as he slides down the windowsill, his feet landing eerily quiet on the floor. Watching Noé snore undisturbed, he’s quite sure he’s met what must be the worst vampire of his kind. What else explains his utter lack of awareness of danger? Vanitas imagines slipping right next to him and sliding a dagger across his throat or put the barrel right above his heart, pulling the trigger.

    He’s so easy, Vanitas thinks, barely holding back a scoff. In so many ways.

    Noé shifts, and Vanitas stops, only noticing then he’s already crossed the room and has almost reached Noé’s bedside. And that’s another thing he can’t stand about Noé: He makes Vanitas do things impulsively, barely spending another thought if what he’s about to do is beneficial or utterly disastrous—no matter that, in most cases he is already moving, already talking, and it’s so aggravating that 80 percent of what he’s saying in a sentence starts or ends with Noé’s name on his lips. Like a blessing, like a prayer. Vanitas doesn’t pray, not anymore. He’s stopped long ago, and no God, Saint or Martyr’s promise of benediction would be enough for a reward to make him resume.

    So they punish him, and surely Noé is just another part of what they hold in store for him. Another explanation isn’t possible, because why of all nights in which he has visited Noé, this time he wakes up, his warning only a little hum before Vanitas is met with a sleepy face and white hair adorably ruffled.

    No, not adorable, he tells himself. Terrible. Annoying.

    “Vanitas?” Noé’s voice is rough on the edges and thick with sleep. “You can’t sleep?”

    Vanitas feels challenged to say, “No, watching people sleep is one of my many exotic hobbies!” but he’s tired and sort of really desperate for some form of rest, so defeated, he admits, “No, I can’t.”

    Noé considers him with more regard, and Vanitas wonders what he thinks, watching him stand in his room, barefoot and with deep shadows under his eyes. Just the previous day, he'd commented that Vanitas wasn’t looking well at all, and he'd asked if they should rest for a while. Vanitas had pressed on even harder, refusing Noé another good look at his battered form.

    The silence stretches before them like a lazy beast, unmoving but still ready to pounce any second. Eventually, Noé offers with a carefully even voice, “Do you want to know what always helped me falling asleep when I was a child?”

    Vanitas scoffs. “No, I really don’t.”

    “Good,” Noé says, either not noticing or ignoring Vanitas rolling his eyes. “Whenever I couldn’t fall asleep, I’d go to Domi’s room and climb into her bed. Knowing someone was beside me helped, and I can sleep much better with someone warm next to me.”

    “My, do I look like a ten year old boy, barely able to fend for myself that I need to share my bed with someone?” Vanitas cocks his head to the side, squinting at Noé from under his black lashes. “And who would want to lie next to a rough sleeper like you, ending up as a body pillow for your serving!”

    Noé arches a slim, white eyebrow and lifts his blanket. Vanitas stares at him for a moment, then moves towards him like a moth to the flame and crawls under the sheets, settling right next to the other boy. “What a splendid idea!” no one says, because it isn’t.

    Noé is a furnace beside him. Whatever space Vanitas tries to bring between them, he immediately bridges, pressing his arm against Vanitas’s.

    “Dominique is going to kill me if she hears about this,” he murmurs into the darkness, ignoring how Noé’s calf feels against his bare ankle. “If you so much as mention it to her, I will haunt you down and slay you.”

    Noé hums as he turns around to face him, snuggling into the blanket. Vanitas tries to lie as still as possible. He imagines he is a rock at the bottom of a vast sea where he’s been for hundreds of years and will remain for another hundreds of years. It works until he feels Noé’s warm breath ghost over his cheek and in his imagination, Vanitas sees the rock carried away with the water current.

    “She won’t bother,” Noé says. “Like I said, we used to do that all the time as kids. Me, Domi and—” The sudden silence feels like the air sucked out of the room so no sound can travel. Vanitas can feel his shoulders tense, his breath caught somewhere on the way from his lungs to his mouth.

    Don’t say Louis, don’t say Louis, he thinks.

    “And Louis,” Noé finishes quietly, another breath on Vanitas’s skin.

    “Then we must be talking about a different Dominique,” Vanitas says, not indulging at all in the boy that’s written in blood on Noé’s tongue and hands. “But then again, you are her favourite thing, and she would do anything for you. Do me one favour, would you? Don’t invite me to your wedding.”

    Noé makes a strange, curious sound, and draws his knees up to his chest. Vanitas tries to accommodate by moving further towards the edge but half of his body is already hanging off, barely covered by the blanket. He shivers and turns to his side, now facing Noé and notices too late what a terrible idea that is with only a few inches separating their faces. His eyes shift from Noé’s ears to his cheekbones and focus on where his lashes throw dark shadows on his skin.

    “Wedding?” Noé blinks up at him. “Me and Domi? What makes you think that we would marry?”

    “What makes you think you won’t?”

    “Dominique is like a sister to me.” Noé hums another little, low note, leaning his head forward. Vanitas leans back. “No, she is the sister I always wished for. I love her as family.”

    “Why, go and break her heart like that.” Vanitas sighs, faking a concerned huff. Either the soft fabric just under the tip of his fingers is his own coat or Noé’s pyjama, and he doesn’t dare moving to find out. “Or maybe you’re actually naive enough to believe she feels the same way.”

    “Why wouldn’t she?” He can practically hear the other boy frowning. “I’m certain she too loves me as a brother. And should she ever decide to marry, I’ll surely be sad, but it doesn’t matter as long as she’s happy. I just know she’ll be a beautiful bride.”

    Vanitas rolls his eyes, unable to believe such gullibility and there’s nothing he wants to do more than claw his way into Noé’s heart and see what makes him tick like that, what mechanics work to produce such a strange specimen like him. But before he can give back a snark remark, Noé suddenly asks, “What about you?”

    “Oh, I would make a lovely bride, thank you for asking.”

    “No, I mean marriage,” Noé says after a poorly restrained chuckle. “Are you considering to marry Jeanne?”

    Vanitas’s mouth forms a little ‘o’ before he barks out a laugh. “What in Heaven’s sake makes you think that?” he says, pressing one hand against his forehead because surely whatever Noé comes up with now will give him the headache that’s asserted itself within him since their first encounter.

    Noé is quiet for a moment, then whispers, “Because you love her.”

    Vanitas stops laughing. The headache doesn’t come, it’s dulled by the strange tone in Noé’s voice, one he fails to identify. It’s like grabbing mist, the whitish mystery clearly visible but slipping through his fingers.

    “That is a very strong assumption,” he starts slowly, hearing the edge in his own voice. “But tell me, Noé, do you see me as someone who is capable of loving?” Noé’s breath hitches, his answer clear to Vanitas before even spoken, so quickly, and with a voice dark and hard, like late-winter ice, he adds, “A vampire of all things?”

    Noé’s breath hitches again, this time sounding like a knife stabbed into his side. It does something funny to Vanitas, makes his heart jump a little out of tact, and he feels a smile slowly forming his lips into a crooked line. His hand sneaks up from under the blanket and reaches to grab a white lock, playing a contrast of black and white between his gloved fingers.

    “I don’t love, Noé,” he whispers, pushing his cheek into the pillow that smells of Noé. “Not you, not Jeanne. Not humans, and certainly not vampires. I only consume those of value to my cause.” Like you. Like Jeanne and that boy she holds so dear.

    Noé seems to understand, but he doesn’t pull away from Vanitas’s touch, which speaks volumes of whatever this connection between them is. No, he slightly turns his head, nuzzling into Vanitas’s hand, and with a shudder Vanitas realises how vulnerable the inside of his wrist is just inches away from Noé’s mouth and those hidden teeth that can easily rip apart his skin.

    In this short moment he begs to whatever deities currently punishing him that he would bite him. Because then everything would easily fall into place, and he could kill Noé without second thought; without remorse.

    Silver lines return to Noé’s face, and Vanitas blinks up at the window, at the narrow slit showing the moon emerging behind thick clouds, making Noé look like a piece torn out of the night sky: silver and black.

    “Ah, but it seems there is someone else who adores you,” he says, his voice rising to a playful, ironic tint. He nods his chin towards the moon, and Noé turns around and away from Vanitas’s hand, blinking into the soft light. Just for a split second, his fingers twitch—toward Noé’s throat, his cheek, his lips?—but he already pulls it back under the blanket, still feeling exactly where Noé has touched him even through the thick fabric of his glove.

    “La lune?” Noé turns back to Vanitas, brows drawn together.

    “Yes, the very one. But I don’t recommend giving into it. You can only go so far on a roof after all before you reach the end.”

    “What are you talking about?”

    “You don’t know the story? About the man falling in love with the moon. He climbed up to a roof to reach her, but well. I think you can imagine the end of that.”

    “It sounds like the moon is a harsh mistress,” Noé says slowly, surprising Vanitas in joining his antics, even following his train of thought. “La belle dame sans merci,” he whispers. “Then you two aren’t so different.”

    Vanitas raises an eyebrow. “Beg your pardon?”

    “Just as distant,” he says, shifting away from Vanitas for the first time. Good, Vanitas should think. Stay away from me. But instead he goes rigid and demands, Don’t go. “Just as out of reach.”

    “Thank you, I try to keep things interesting,” Vanitas says, his voice hollow.

    Noé surprises him (there it is again, being surprised when Vanitas has sworn that he’ll never underestimate another person ever again) by giving a soft chuckle. “But that makes me want to get closer to you even more, Vanitas.”

    His mouth goes dry. His brain tries to follow up with whatever might rebuilt the wall between them, brick by brick, but instead his mind betrays him and takes over his mouth, babbling, “Did you know Alain Chartier wrote the poem about the merciless belle dame? It’s a little tacky to my taste, but then again, I wouldn’t beg anyone for their adoration. It’s a silly concept, the dialogue between the Lover and the Lady, I mean why would anyone ride out to enjoy a party, only to languish at the feet of—”

    Noé groans. He stops the onslaught of words by slapping a hand on Vanitas’s mouth. The sudden silence stretches into uncomfortable territory until Vanitas can’t bear it anymore. He stares at Noé out from the corner of his eyes, and parts his lips to drag his tongue over Noé’s fingers. Noé flinches, and looks back at him with wide eyes. What usually did the trick to gross people out (Dante for example was fairly familiar with this concept and never failed to meet Vanitas’s expectations to draw away quickly) doesn’t work on Noé. He remains transfixed on Vanitas’s face as if all secrets of the universe display on his features, and Vanitas starts to questions his action. Suddenly, Noé shifts. He props himself on one elbow and leans over him, casting a long shadow over his upper body.

    Just then, Vanitas realises what a dangerous situation he’s in. Up until this moment, he thought Noé to be shy, but that isn’t right at all. Noé is quiet resolve, and steadfast loyalty, he is the very silence ready to pounce and turn peace into havoc. It’s evident in how he watches Vanitas behind half closed eyes, those ruby mirrors considering him with an unreadable expression. His heart picks up, and before he can ascertain if this is a game he can win, he answers with sultry eyes himself, and mouths “Kiss me” against Noé’s skin.

    It’s just out of curiosity, he tells himself. He wants to rile Noé up a little, see how far he can go and where he draws the line. Maybe Noé won’t do a thing and play the blushing maiden Vanitas imagines him to be. They both know it’s a dare Noé will lose because he respects Vanitas’s boundaries too much, and that little victory satisfies him already enough to smile into Noé’s hand triumphantly.

    Noé considers him with a blank expression before his eyes slowly drift to his hand where it’s still secured over Vanitas’s mouth. Something changes in his eyes, they grow soft, and Vanitas immediately regrets what he’s done because he can’t bear the warmth in them, the unspoken promise of whatever Noé is willing to give him. He thinks about squirming out of the boy's touch, but he’s started moving his hand already, settling on Vanitas’s eyes. His heart stops. Rotten memories claw at the edge of his mind, hungry hyenas demanding blood and misery that this kind of darkness brings. Before he can lash out and push Noé away, soft moon light illuminates the darkness behind his closed eyes again, and he takes a deep, shaky breath, only now noticing that he’s stopped breathing. His eyes snap open, locking with Noé’s as he brushes black bangs out of Vanitas’s face. The moon shines a halo around Noé when he leans down and kisses his forehead.

    It’s perfect.

    Vanitas hates it.

    He doesn’t move.

    Noé’s lips are surprisingly soft. So is his smell, a faint fragrance of sandalwood with the sharp tint of clove and something coppery hidden under the layers, and there’s nothing better to describe it than home. The realisation cuts him in a sharp, painful flash, one that robs him of the air he’s only just now regained. Noé is careful that no other part of their bodies is touching, and it’s the last act of kindness that pushes something in him into a bottomless, black hole.

    His fingers splay on Noé’s chest as he pushes him away, staring up into a slightly flushed face. The blushing maiden. Despite everything, it makes Vanitas smile.

    “You live dangerous, my friend,” he murmurs, playing with a shirt button close to Noé’s collarbones. “But I will condone it this once. It seems I forgot one gets burned when playing with fire.”

    Noé leans back, one hand beside Vanitas’s head carrying his weight, contemplating. Vanitas already knows whatever he’s going to say, it won’t be good.

    “I never thought of you as someone who would yield to anything,” Noé says eventually. “Not even fire.” And quieter, he adds, “Ignis aurom probat.” Fire tests gold.

    A shudder ripples through Vanitas’s body, stealing his control and causing him to laugh involuntarily because he doesn’t see himself as pure as gold, and Noé is so much more than a simple fire. Noé is a searing blaze, devastating cities and forests and leaving ashes of their self, allowing them to rebuild and regrow and turn away from an unwanted past. Vanitas would gladly sell his soul for such an opportunity, but he’s shackled by the shadow of a little boy half his height with a sweet voice and eyes the fairest blue even the sky envies.

    “You’re quite the charmer, but you do know what they say about gold, don’t you?”

    Noé hesitates, shifting a little, and even Vanitas with the little imagination that he has, can quite clearly picture how the muscles must shift beneath Noé’s dark skin on his back. He closes his eyes and breathes through his mouth. “Gold gives to the ugliest thing a certain charming air, For that without it were else a miserable affair.”

    Noé pales. “I didn’t mean—”

    “Shhh.” Vanitas smiles a smile Lucifer must have worn just seconds before God banished him from Heaven. His eyes don’t leave Noé for a second when he lifts a finger and presses it against Noé’s lips.

    “I know, you didn’t mean to.” He rolls his eyes, voice in a mocking tone imitating what Noé was going to say because he’s easily predictable. “And you would never hurt me. But that makes us different. Because I will gladly hurt you if you let me.” He follows the soft curve of Noé’s lower lip with the tip of his finger until he reaches the corner of his mouth. There he curls his finger inside and pulls one side into a crooked smile. A sharp tooth grazes his skin, not quiet enough to break it, but a shiver travels down his back nonetheless.

    Noé pulls Vanitas’s hand away from his face, looking down at him like he’s a strange animal he’s never seen before. A dull sadness settles over his eyes, but it’s too quick for Vanitas to really acknowledge.

    “Not gold then,” Noé concludes with resolution in his voice. “But quicksilver.” And with that, he places Vanitas’s hand carefully back on his chest, and retreats to his side of the bed, laying down so Vanitas is faced with his broad back, his body completely turned towards the moon.

    Vanitas blinks, stretching out one hand to follow the curve of Noé’s spine in the air with a finger, imagining what it would feel like to curl against this strong body and hold onto something what won’t break under his touch. He stays like that until he hears calm, deep breathing. Only then he lifts that same finger that’s been inside Noé’s mouth to his lips and sucks slowly until his mind talks him into believing it’s actually Noé he tastes.

    I don’t love, he repeats over and over in his head until his eyes fall close and he drifts into a dreamless sleep.

    The next morning starts just like Vanitas has always feared a morning sleeping beside another body would go. Waking up slowly to a woman’s voice in the far distance, he’s still walking on this slim line between sleeping and waking, a coma really, when his conscience registers a heavy arm around his waist and warm breath in his neck. His body locks up into one painful, tense muscle; all desperate instinct and frightened awareness because No, I don’t want Doctor to touch me, and he starts frantically scrabbling for the dagger below his pillow only to find nothing. Vanitas feels punched back to when he’s eleven and caged under Moreau’s heavy, naked body, a choked whimper like a wounded animal leaving his mouth. The arm moves, allowing the tiniest leeway. Vanitas doesn’t think. He swings his arm as hard as he can and hears the satisfying crack of a bone breaking. The man beside him gives a surprised shout, and Vanitas jumps to his feet, ready to break more than bones as the door crashes open at the same time, a woman storming inside.

    “Noé?” Dominique cries, taking in how he's bent forward on the bed, holding his face. It doesn’t stop the blood dripping all over the white sheets, and Vanitas grows cold when her sharp eyes land on him, a furious hate boiling inside them. “What have you done, human?” she hisses, reaching Noé’s hunched form within few steps.

    Vanitas is lost for words, a quite frequent reaction whenever he’s in Noé’s proximity. But it isn’t like anything he’ll say can excuse or save him from Dominique’s wrath, so he just stands there, dumbfounded, and watches her valuate the graveness of Noé’s broken nose, wondering if the man who’s fallen off the roof in the pursuit of his love lost as much blood as Noé right now and if that was worthwhile, or if he’d have rather poisoned himself with quicksilver.

    Not that it matters.

    Both end in a painful, slow death.

I saw pale kings and princes too, Pale warriors, death-pale were they all; They cried—‘La Belle Dame sans Merci Thee hath in thrall!’

[John Keats]