#what a foul lie

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

y'all i promise i was GOING to brainrot about moth but then genshin dropped the teaser for the Arlecchino animated short and now my head is full of nothing but Father

[pensiveant]

i don't think therapy will ever actually help me personally because i'm chronically incapable of opening up and deeply embarrassed that i'm struggling at all, let alone the ways in which i'm struggling which is a whole different can of worms. every professional i've ever seen, i just realize after the fact that i'm straight up lying and bullshitting them because i've been in We Can't Let People Know We Sit mode but emotionally/mentally my whole life. and the worst part is that they actually buy it and it's up to me to hold myself accountable for this because nobody else seems willing/capable (i'm not letting them) to call me out on my bullshit. and like. that's hell of a task.

[thisblogisforprivatenotes]

Reading about fucking conservative freaks using "judeo-christian values" to justify their bigoted policies towards queer kids in the education system

[riverswater]

Thing is fanfiction made me think that getting psychological help was gonna be easy. Instead irl I spent one year telling a paid therapist how much I wanted to off myself and she never even blinked.

[phosphorusab]

I cannot fucking believe that there are people “no angel-ing” Nex Benedict because they poured water on these random girls who had been harassing them (and had been harassing them prior, despite not knowing them). If it had been their cishet kids who were being bullied, they wouldn’t have a problem if their kids poured water on someone. And now there’s psychos saying Nex deserved to get beaten for responding to being antagonized.

This always happens, a queer person isn’t a ‘perfect victim’, it’s okay for them to die. And even if they were perfect victim, it’s still somehow acceptable. This happens to every marginalized person who snaps one day due to abuse, and gets killed.

And the excuses only get more and more stupid. “Oh they were no angel, they poured water on somebody”. Yeah, after being bullied for a year straight every school day. It’s almost like every human has their limit of fucks to give and shit to take.

I hate all of you ‘no angel’ people even more than I hate people regurgitating misinformation about how Nex died, based off of what the corrupt school and the fucking bastard cops (who are allowed to lie) say. Even the cops suspect foul play. Listen to the 911 call, that’s a head injury. Dozens of people who’ve had experiences with someone getting a head injury and dying later on will tell you that.

[peelingstickers]

tried learning to knit today that might actually be my villain origin

[play-now-my-lord]

it's interesting to me that torture just works to us, as a literary device. It's everywhere in movies and stories and whatnot, from big-budget dramas to little grindhouse short stories. It fits neatly into the requirements of plot: character doesn't want to offer information, Gets Tortured, has to offer information.

the issue with this is that it isn't how it works.

torture is a display of power. It fouls interrogation, this is known; a person being tortured will tell you whatever you want to hear to make it stop, which is more often than not a lie, made up on the spot, or if the truth an incomplete and useless version of it. It isn't generally done for information's sake anyway, but as a form of what the ancient Greeks called hybris, the violent exhibition of your power over another person.

This is, every once in a great while, done right in fiction, but it's a challenge to write vs. the idea that it's a shortcut to one character revealing plot-critical information to another. Pretty much every form of torture works this way, even the ones that are legally permissible. Psychological torment or physical discomfort also produce an animalistic desire to escape harm and foul interrogation. The forms of torture the cops can do? The cops do it not to gain information (or if they think it will, they're lying to themselves) but because it makes them feel powerful.

There's probably a master's thesis in it for somebody studying the rise of torture as a plot device since the beginning of the war on terror and the contemporaneous development of the Broken Windows theory of policing. I'm not really aware of any similar level of disconnect between what Works in fiction and what happens in real life!

[softandwigglybones]

I have a good and healthy relationship with the internet

[moechies]

step daddy toji ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .

“m-m sorry daddy.!”

“yeah you fuckin’ are.”

he grasps at your hair with an unforgiving grip, your face inches away from his evident bulge.

“you’d be sorry if you knew what was right for ya.”

he tugs at his cotton sweats, heavy cock springing up and slapping your cheek upon release. he guides the tip of his sloppy cock head towards your lips, spreading his pearlescent pre all over your puffy, glossed up lips.

he pulls you further back once you try to take him in your mouth, eagerly panting at the sight.

“stupid brats like you don’t get their daddy’s cock, sweetie.”

he shifts his hand over his cock head, slow but tight strokes to his shaft. he groans at the feeling, but can only imagine how much tighter your hand would be, how much tighter your cunt would be.

“d-daddy—“

“shiiit..”

“daddy..!”

he glances down at you, eyes perceiving something you aren’t used to. he looks at you like you’re bothering him, almost like he hates you.

“whaddya want, brat? yer ruinin’ it for me.”

your quivering lips sulk just a bit, eyes brimming with tears at his foul words.

“wait— d-don’t cum without me, daddy, please?”

oh you’re sweet.

your eyes as sweet as a puppy’s begging for treats, hand pawing at his thigh for a sense of affirmation.

but he only laughs, and you feel your face grow warm.

“don’t cum without you ? why, you think you deserve it?”

“i-i do! don’t lie, daddy.!”

“shit sweetheart, you’re really startin’ to piss me off.”

[cattordi]

a/n hi i have explanation as to why i was gone for so long please don’t sue me. i wrote this after watching saltburn and watching 2037633 felix edits. but i honestly forgot how to write so im getting back into it. don’t judge :P

summary it’s 2006 and you’re an american who recently decided to study overseas in england at oxford and there’s one person who just won’t leave you alone

pairings felix catton x american!reader

warnings smut, orgasm control, begging, foul language, creampie/breeding, overstimulation, slight choking, oral sex, not proofread, smoking cigarettes(not reader), unprotected sex, fluff, angst, name calling, daddy kink, praise, 18+ MINORS DNI

chips or crisps?

“can i just get a vodka martini?” you ask the bartender. he nods and quickly scurries off to make your drink.

england is not what you expect it to me. it’s nice. nicer than america in your opinion but the people were something.

one person you just couldn’t shake stood in all his glory across the pub. “he’s gorgeous right?” a redheaded girl says as she walks from his direction towards you.

“uh no not really” you lie. no one in their right mind could think that felix catton was unattractive. he’s 6’5, has a gorgeous smile, and a very very hot body. the only thing about him that bothered you was how he teased you. m

you didn’t know if it was because you liked him or what. “no one thinks felix is unattractive. felix doesn’t even think felix is unattractive.” the redhead continues saying.

“um do i know you?” you ask as the bartender slides your drink across the bar and you had him 4 pounds. “oou an american. i’m annabel” she says.

“hm.” you say and turn to look in felix’s direction again. hes now looking over at the bar where you and annabel are. first hes staring at annabel and then his eyes wander over to you; catching your gaze. you quickly look away not wanting to hold eye contact but for some reason your eyes wander right back to him.

he’s now smiling at you goofily because you got caught staring.

you roll your eyes and turn back facing the bar. annabel walks away after getting her drinks and now you’re officially by yourself again.

just the way you liked it.

you finish off your drink and quickly get a new one.

times passes and more people start filing into the pub; which calls for more drinks. “chips or crisps?” you hear next to you and you already know who it is.

“what do you want felix?” you groan and throw your head back.

the way your mouth is open and your neck is exposed makes felix feel a way inside. “is it chips or crisps?”

“felix i swear-“ you begin but he cuts you off. “you swear what love?” he begins and you finally look at him, “you’re you’re slap me? you’ve done that before.”

“what is your fascination with me?” you snap and he looks so amused.

“that,” he says a points at me, “what you just did is my fascination with you love.” furrowing your eyebrows he continues, “the way i get you all riled up without even touching you.” he says and his mouth is next to your ear at the point.

the smell of bourbon wraps around your head and into your nose. “you’re drunk.” you say and he chuckles.

“i’m not. lighten up y/n, you know i like teasing you.”

you can’t really tell if he’s lying so you just stop talking hoping he goes away after he gets his drinks.

newsflash: he doesn’t.

“y/n?” he says.

“what could you want now felix?”

“talk to me, love.”

“don’t call me that.. and no.”

“you just spoke to me.”

you don’t speak this time and he chuckles, “this little game we’re playing,” he begins and gestures between the two of you,” is lovely.” his accent warms you inside.

“i’m leaving.” you groan and push off your chair. you quickly gather your purse and coat before walking out; all while not even glancing at felix.

the cold england air hits you like a truck as you step outside. “it’s awfully cold.” felix says.

you jump at the unexpected sound of his voice. “felix what the hell are you doing?”

“don’t be foolish y/n. it’s 10 at night. i’m walking you back to your dorm.”

“i don’t need you to walk me back.” you say and he shrugs, “i didn’t ask you that did i?”

“whatever.” you begin walking and you can hear felix walking behind you.

after about 5 minutes of walking he finally speaks, “so y/n why don’t you like me?”

you ignore him but he won’t take that for an answer, “y/n answer the bloody question.”

you still don’t answer.

“for fucks sake,m y/n.” he says and he sounds upset. “whatever.” is all you hear before a hand wraps around your wrist pulling you between a small alley.

“felix let go.” you groan in annoyance that he won’t just leave you alone. but behind your little act, you want him to bother you; in more ways than others.

“stop acting like i don’t exist.” he begins as he gets close to your ear, “stop acting like i don’t have an effect on you.”

“you don’t.” you whisper and that pisses him off more.

“y/n,” he scoffs and you feel yourself beginning to get wet,”you act the way you do because you know, everything i do makes you feel good.”

if only he knew how true that statement was.

you shake your head, looking up at him. “listen, im not like every other girl who bows down to you. you can’t think i’m just gonna give out.”

“and why wouldn’t you love? i see the effect i have on you. i try to be so nice to you love.. and you push me away.” he begins as his hand slides into your mini skirt. “i bet you’re soaking for me.”

you refuse to make eye contact so you look down at his chest. “look at me love.” you shake your head now causing him to grab you by your jaw. “i said look at me.”

you whimper quietly at the feeling of his hand now touching the wet spot of your panties. felix’s eyes soften at your sound, “do i make you this wet love?”

after a few seconds, you finally give into all the feelings. so you nod your head but this doesn’t satisfy him, “words.”

“yes.”

“good girl. now,” he begins before pulling his hands out of your panties; causing you to whimper again at the lost of touch, “let’s go to my dorm. i’m not taking you in a bloody alley, darling.”

with that, he grabs your hand and begins walking quickly in the direction of the dorms. you can’t help but notice how big his hand is compared to yours.. and how long his legs are. one of his steps is 3 of yours.

after another 30 seconds of walking he stops. “you walk awfully slow love.”

“well sorry i’m not-“ you begin but yelp as your feet leave the ground and felix throws you over his shoulder. “felix put me down!” you groan.

“darling we are like 3 minutes away. just let me carry you.” he says and smacks your butt. the stinging feeling after keeps you quiet.

those three minutes pass so quickly you don’t even realize he’s walked the stair of his dorm and is now unlocking the door.

slowly, felix sets you down and points to the bed. “take your skirt off.”

you hum in response before pulling your skirt down. he’s watching you intently with his arms crossed. his button up shirt is unbuttoned halfway down; revealing his sculpted chest.

“now your,” he begins and points at your panties. as you slide them off the moon shines on your glistening folds and a low groan comes out of him.

as you discard of you panties, felix walks over and stands between your legs. “look at me.” you do as he says, “is this what you want?”

felix begins squatting down slowly. “do you want to be mine y/n?” he ask when he’s parellel with your pussy. his hot breath sends shivers up your spine. “hm y/n? answer me love.”

his hands wrap around your thighs. “yes felix.. that’s what i want.” you moan out as he begins kissing your inner thigh.

“well before we start.. call me daddy.” he lips your pussy in between words, “and you only cum when i say so. understood?”

you whimper lightly, “yes daddy.”

you’d never called a guy daddy before but it got you off more than you expected.

“well then,” with that felix’s mouth attacks your folds and clit causing your back to arch in pleasure.

your hands find his hair as he continues licking up and down your slit; ever so often he’ll hum and the feeling it gives almost pushes you over the edge.

“can i cum please daddy?” you ask and he hums something that sounds like a no. “please, please i want to cum.”

the begging and humming goes on for another minute or so until felix stops. “what happened?” you ask breathlessly.

“you tasted delicious darling, but i don’t want you to cum until i’m in you.”

he quickly pecks you on the lips before rolling you onto your stomach. you can’t see what he’s doing but his shadow cast on the wall as he stands.

you hear his belt being undone and soon his hand cupping your ass. “god, you’re perfect darling” he groans as his hand slides down; his accent is music to your ears.

“thank you..” you moan as he moves his dick between your wet folds. “thank you what?”

his hand wraps around your throat, “say it y/n.” the way your name rolls off his lips makes you feel so good. “thank you daddy.”

“good girl.” with that he slides in. you couldn’t see how big it was but you could definitely feel it. you moan in pleasurable pain as he stretches you.

doggystyle wasn’t always your first choice of positions because after a lot bit it was too much. every thrust would hit your cervix and begin hurting but with felix: it felt good.

“so- damned- tight.” he says and thrust harder in between words. you dig your face into the comforter moaning.

his hand snakes around your body to the front and begins rubbing your clit in small agonizingly pleasing circles. “felix-“

a sharp smack hits your ass, “that’s not my name y/n.”his hips continue to smack into you as he fucks you senselessly. “what’s my name?”

“fuck i need to cum.” you moan and he smacks your ass again, before grabbing you by the neck and pulling you up towards his chest continuing to fuck you. the new position caused him to hit your g spot in more ways than before. “what’s my name?” he ask through gritted teeth.

you’d never felt this kind of pleasure with anyone before. “can i please cum, daddy?”

“that’s what i like to hear.. but no.” his hand continues massage your swollen bud as he breathes heavily on your neck; fucking you maliciously. “god, do you feel god. all wet for me.. letting me fuck you to no avail like daddys slut.”

“please can i come daddy? please.. you feel so good.” you moan,

he pushes you back onto the bed, holding your by the neck; keeping you in place. “please daddy can i cum?” the feeling of release deepens so much and you can’t take it.

“i can’t take it.” you say through pleasured cries. the way he rubs your clit and hits your g spot repeatedly overstimulates you.

“yes you can and you will y/n.” he begins, “you’re mine now. all mine. no one could fuck you like i do. don’t you agree?”

you nod while whimpering out hushed “yes daddy”’s

“good. do you want to cum?”

“yes, yes please.”

“beg. and make sure it’s loud. i want everyone in this dorm to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock.”

“please daddy. please can i come? i want to make you feel good.” you plead and you have to admit: you can be louder.

“that’s not loud enough darling.” he says and stops rubbing your clit. the lost of friction causes you to whimper. “louder.”

“please daddy. i need to come. please, i can’t take it anymore.” you grab the sheets of his bed and grip them tight as an anchor as he fucks you.

“louder y/n, you’re almost there.” he groans. you can tell he’s getting close as well. his grip on your hips has tightened and you can feel his shaft pulsing slightly against your walls.

his fingers touch your clit again and you moan loudly, “oh my gosh, can i please cum daddy? you feel so good in me. i want to cum all on your dick.”

this time you’re so loud he’s even threatened to cover your mouth. “cum love. milk my cock like i know you’ve wanted too since we met”

at the sound of his permission, you release your orgasm. white flashes take over your vision as you release what felix has took his time to build up.

he continues to fuck you through your orgasm causing more pleasure. moaning loudly, you arch your back towards him. “holy hell, you’re so tight around me.”

he groans and pushes your hips into the bed. his thrust begin to slow and become sputtered movements. “you were made for me y/n.. so perfect.” he groans as releases hot white spurts that coat your walls.

the way he talks to you turns you on even more as you come down from your high. he continues to fuck you slowly as his cum drips out of you and onto your clit.

“fuck y/n..” he moans softly as he pulls out slowly. you continue laying down trying to catch your breath as he stands.

you hear things being more behind you but you’re too weak to turn your head and look. after a few seconds, you feel felix straddling you. “roll over.”

you do as he says to reveal he’s holding a cloth. “open your legs for me..”

slowly, you open your legs to reveal your swollen sex. “you did so good love.”

felix squats lowly and begins wiping you up. “thank you.”

smiling at you he continues,”but you know.. you never answered my question.”

“hm?”

“chips or crisps?”

[maxverstappendefender]

won gold // mv1 smau

description: olympic snowboarder!gf x mv1 (max being a complete simp for someone that doesn’t even know him)

a/n: this had me blushing ngl. requests are open at the moment too! or just come talk to me, would love to talk to you all! all pics from pinterest, i don’t own any

masterlist

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 208,571 others

youruser: competing in the olympics deserves a good sleep. thank you all sm for the love and happy to bring home gold

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olympics: 🥇

user1: GOLD BABYYYY

scottyjames31: proud of you lady

↳ youruser: miss you scotty!

danielricciardo: W for the best snowboarder ever

↳ scottyjames31: 😧

↳ youruser: 😬😬

user2: her beauty should be illegal

↳ user3: and her talent

maxverstappen1: bravo yn!!

maxverstappen1: you’re so pretty wth

↳ danielricciardo: oh brother

↳ landonorris: i second what danny said

↳ charles_leclerc: nurse he’s out again

user4: will max ever stop simping for yn?

↳ user5: most likely not

liked by landonorris, danielricciardo, and 916,837 others

maxverstappen1: snowboarding, sleeping, and winning to finish off the season

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landonorris: this looks quite familiar to a post of someone i know

user6: oh he’s down bad for yn

↳ user7: aren’t we all?

redbullracing: why are we last in this post?

↳ maxverstappen1: more important things

danielricciardo: that picture was taken .2 seconds before you got up and fell on your face

↳ maxverstappen1: that’s a lie

↳ user8: not daniel airing out max’s business

user9: since when has max been a snowboarder

↳ user10: since he started crushing on yn

↳ user11: he’s been simping so hard for ages for her and she doesn’t even know he exists lol

liked by scottyjames31, maxverstappen1, and 319,639 others

youruser: little photo shoot before closing ceremony to the olympics 🖤

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user12: has anyone checked on max verstappen?

↳ maxverstappen1: he’s dead

maxverstappen1: do you need a dog? or a cat? or a fish?

↳ carlossainz55: get up man.

user13: my pulse is gone

user14: had a heart attack and died today

user15: one chance yn, please

maxverstappen1: 🤤🤤

↳ landonorris: what the hell man

liked by maxverstappen1, olympics, and 184,914 others

youruser: after party complete. see you in 4 years @/olympics

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maxverstappen1: FIRST

redbullracing: oh what’s that last slide?

↳ user16: not admin being just as down bad as max is

scottyjames31: no invite?

↳ youruser: you are literally in another continent rn

maxverstappen1: damn, the team i race for is in that last slide. that’s like fate

↳ user17: i need someone obsessed with me the way max is with yn

user18: okay ms olympic gold medalist

// max’s phone //

//

liked by scottyjames31, maxverstappen1, and 218,347 others

youruser: scotty took a spill, someone call life alert

tagged: scottyjames31

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scottyjames31: foul caption

user19: the best snowboarding friendship

maxverstappen1: need a new snowboarding partner?

↳ charles_leclerc: you snowboarding? lol. have the ambulance on speed dial

↳ landonorris: have to agree with charles here mate

↳ carlossainz55: you would need more than life alert if you went snowboarding

↳ redbullracing: admin does not approve of any potential injury sports during this winter break 👍

user20: the day max gets a date with yn is the day the world will be right again

↳ user21: world hunger, poverty, and homelessness would be solved

↳ maxverstappen1: im trying people. can’t rush perfection

liked by maxverstappen1, danielricciardo, and 216,385 others

youruser: now why is twitter blaming me for world hunger?

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user22: yn could solve world hunger and she chooses not to smh

user23: solve world hunger by going on a date with max verstappen? absolute no brainer

↳ youruser: unfortunately one date will not solve words hunger 👍

↳ maxverstappen1: what about two dates?

landonorris: i’ll pay you to go on a date with someone i know. he’s a little off in the head but he’s insufferable about this crush

↳ danielricciardo: damn, you too?

↳ user24: imagine max talking about yn to his friends and she barely even knows who he is 😂

user25: love a good sunset moment

liked by landonorris, youruser, and 746,913 others

maxverstappen1: twitter doesn’t exist anymore, it’s x now

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user26: YN IN THE LIKES

↳ user27: war is over

danielricciardo: this post looks oddly familiar

↳ landonorris: selfie + sunset + heart on snowboard

↳ youruser: i should sue for copyright

user28: not max copying the entire style of yn’s last instagram post

redbullracing: no INJURY PRONE sports.

↳ user29: the things max does for a crush

user30: not max’s caption relating to yn’s last caption

↳ user31: baby, the entire post is pretty much copy and paste but max’s version

liked by danielricciardo, youruser, and 923,658 others

maxverstappen1: found me a snowboarding girlfriend 🙃 i couldn’t rush perfection

tagged: youruser

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danielricciardo: WOOP WOOP 🎉

↳ landonorris: no more simping!!

user32: OH MY GOD.

user33: when he picks up a whole sport for her 😫

redbullracing: admin does not approve of the sport but approves of the girl

↳ youruser: thanks admin 🫶

user34: max is the definition of never back down

↳ user35: never give up!

user36: he played the long game

↳ maxverstappen1: and won gold

youruser: love my (extremely amateur) snowboarding boyfriend 🫶

liked by youruser, landonorris, and 827,046 others

maxverstappen1: girlfriend appreciation post now that i can talk about her as my girlfriend

tagged: youruser

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youruser: much love bby

redbullracing: okay mr. brand ambassador

user37: is your girlfriend single?

landonorris: i feel sick. why do you have to be in love and happy?

user38: do you need a third?

danielricciardo: everyone say thank you daniel

↳ scottyjames31: no. everyone say thank you scotty

user39: the dates haven’t solved world hunger yet but we’re close, i can feel it!

↳ user40: i love this stupid joke

liked by maxverstappen1, scottyjames31, and 382,156 others

youruser: boyfriend appreciation post. love you dork

tagged: maxverstappen1

redbullracing: welcome to the family yn!

maxverstappen1: ‘boyfriend’ ahsdkejehe

↳ user41: that would be me if yn was my girlfriend too

user42: max’s manifesting actually worked

scottyjames31: cute

user43: WHEN. WILL. IT. BE. MY. TURN.

↳ user44: real.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

not to be gay or anything but when im dysphoric i tbink about ajax calling me his good boy for one (1) second and it magically disappears does mothman lore say anything about how he acquired these powers

-🦀

yes according to this book that has all the mothman info right here it says that as a bonus Foul Legacy bestows the power of banishing all and any dysphoric thoughts because he loves you so so much <333 (now he is wrapping you into a warm hug, because one of his great talents is comfort and adoring you and- oh, well you're trapped in his arms now, better get comfy :DDD

[p1nkshield]

Jason: (stubs toe) AH GAH F*CK THIS TABLE

Dick: Jay Language! You should be ashamed!

Jason: You. You taught me these words man.

Dick: (now sweating a little bit) Such foul language and now lies? You lie on the name of your older brother? I don’t know what I did wrong! Timber have you ever ever heard me curse?

Tim: …no?

Dick: exactly! You wound me Jacey!

Jason: you literally would party all the time and you once told this very table the exact same thing I just said!

Tim: … okay the joke was funny before but now you’re taking it a bit too far Jason.

Jason: WHAT? ME!?

Later he found a Polaroid of a younger Dick Grayson clothes in disarray, holding a bottle of tequila and dancing amongst several other people. Said photo has a note on the back that read “hope to see you again soon” next to a deep red kiss mark.

Jason: SEE I WASN’T LYING LOOK!

Tim: …This is really good photoshop! I thought you didn’t want to learn! But seriously can you drop this? You’re asking me to believe that the guy who calls me timbits did drugs. Its not gonna work.

Dick: (mouthing behind Tim) no one will ever believe you >:)

[felibrary]

you could have anyone you want - aventurine

synopsis: sometimes you can't help but wonder why aventurine chose you, out of all people, as his lover. 

pairing: aventurine x reader | fluff with vv light angst, hurt/comfort, mention of habits such as peeling of skin and biting your nails | wc: 674 ; drabble

a/n: i feel like this is a bit choppy, sorry in advance </3

“aventurine, why’d you choose me as your lover?” 

you glance over to where aventurine currently is. his right arm is loosely draped over the back of the velvety arm chair as he swipes through his inbox, archiving old mails and then tending to the newly received ones before shooting you a look of concern. 

“how’d you think of that now?” he laughs quietly and the corners of his mouth slightly quirk up at your question. did he not make it obvious enough, that you’re the only one for him? the thought makes him flinch, if there is one thing aventurine would never want it’s you feeling unworthy.

“and.” he hesitates. his breath is slightly ragged, as he starts to pick at the skin of his digits on his left hand - a habit he does when he’s nervous. the loose skin bothers him, he wants to rip it off fiercely. it hurts, but what hurts more, is seeing you anxious - it makes his heart ache.

he gulps before reluctantly elaborating. “is it bothering you?” his words are draped in utter solicitude and his eyebrows are furrowed as he bites the insides of his lips firmly while studying your face for any signs of uncertainty. “like profoundly bothering you?” he asks softly.

the insides of his lips are bleeding and he can feel the bitter taste of iron seeping into his mouth. the thin layer of skin above his finely trimmed nails is gone, he peeled it off. he no longer needs to bite his nails though, neither when he was nervous or in times of need, when he was starving. it’s impolite and viewed as disgusting. (he can still remember the earthy and foul taste of dirt that was covered beneath the nail beds - somewhat nostalgic; somewhat awful.) 

but does it really matter when it comes to you? (has any pain ever mattered when it came to you?” - no.”)

“no, it's just curiosity.” you lie through gritted teeth as you try to maintain a somewhat felicitous expression, forcing an awkward smile that falters at the corner of your mouth, onto your face.

“there’s nothing that i detest more than lying. you know that.” he reminds you bitterly. (lies are unfulfilled promises, vows that weren’t ever kept, empty words.) he gets up to where you’re at, comfortably lying your back against the headboard and softly stroking one of the critters the two of you recently adopted. the small critter only purrs in response to your tender touches, nestling against your body as you continue to pet it.

the mattress slightly dips as aventurine sets his hand, followed by his body, down. “please, tell me what’s wrong.” he pleads as he holds out his hand, placing it near your hand, not going further than touching your fingertips. (he’ll let you decide if you want to hold onto his hand - if you give him permission to touch your delicate body.)

don't lie to me, please.

“aventurine it’s just that.” your voice slightly breaks. “it’s just that i don’t feel worthy of being your love - worthy of your love and adoration, in general.” you admit in a hushed tone as you slowly snake your hand towards his, intertwining the two of them. instantly, almost by habit aventurine quickly laces your fingers together, tightly entwining your hand with his.  

“what makes you think that?” belittling or invalidating your feelings is the least he’d want to do, so he carefully squeezed your hand, not once or twice but thrice. it’s become a small pattern the both of you do when the other is nervous, telling them that they’re here. it’s a sign of reassurance.

“you could have anyone you want.” your admission is no louder than a whisper and aventurine needs to make sure that he’s not hearing the wrong things. 

him being able to have his way with anyone he’d want? isn’t it quite the contrary? you’re everything aventurine isn’t, everything he admires in a person - everything he’d wish to be.

“that's funny. i’ve always thought the same about you.” 

azul azul AZUL!!!! @azullumi something dedicated to (y)our lovely honey blonde uhm guy!! yeah... haha... ANYWAY. in the past month you've helped me a lot in my writing but also like mental/developing journey as a teenager. the words you tell me, the experiences you recall (like you being in the hospital - LIKE WHAT), the warm vibe you give off - they make me feel at ease, they make me feel seen and understood, they make me smile. i think i often tell you (in those notes) the same things, but they're utmost important for me to mention because i just want you to know how special you're to me and not just your words. you, yourself are very special to me. i'm very very fond of you, just so you know. i often think to myself "oh azul would like this." "azul would laugh so hard at this." etc. but i also often think about you and your words, i get so happy when i see your messages popping up on my screen i try to answer them asap because who knows when you'll be gone?!??! (NOT IN A DEAD KIND OF SENSE BUT OMFG MAKE UR DISCORD STATUS ON, STOP BEING ON INVISIBLE.) i often recall your words and the advice you give me, it makes me smile but another thing that also makes me smile is your smile. i'm pretty sure i've already told you this once but your smile is so bright, so bright it rivals the rays of sunshine that light upon us. perhaps you're my sun, my blessing that came along the way and makes the cold and hard days easier for me. melting the snow that hid me from the many things unbeknownst to me and revealing yourself to me. just you. whom else do i need? /j/lh. i love you a lot user azullumi <3

© VYNICITY 2024. stealing, copying, translating, reposting my works on other platforms or feeding them to ai is not permitted.

[milswrites]

At the end of the night

~ Azriel X Fem Illyrian!Reader

Based on this request

Summary: They say you never forget your first love. So how could Azriel move on when you were never far from his mind?

Warnings: Gross men, intoxication, injury, blood, talks of wing clipping, talks of Azriel’s past, smut 18+ mdni (p in v), angst, fluff, the whole shebang.

Word count: 8.7k

'Tell me the story about how the sun loved the moon so much that he dies every night to let her breathe, and in return, she reflects his love.'

The hour was late.

Far too late for a young woman such as yourself to be walking through the shadowed streets of Windhaven unaccompanied. The waning moon lost amongst the clouds as you moved under the cover of darkness.

You had no true destination in mind. Rather, your aimless wandering was done on account of you trying to pass the hours until you were able to return home once more. The lurking dangers of Windhaven appeared much more appealing than whatever bacchic activities were currently taking place at your home.

Night becoming your only friend as you spent all your time within its company.

It was now common practice, keeping yourself occupied whilst your father drank himself to oblivion alongside his barbarous friends. Your home no longer habitable, as with each day that passed it began to resemble a dreary tavern more and more.

Yet the streets themselves were just as an unpleasant place to be.

Even in the darkest hours of the night, the camp was still teeming with life. From lousy drunkards to irreputable whores, it seemed as though everybody was searching for some relief tonight. All seeking an escape from what was the hellish day-to-day of Windhaven.

It was therefore no surprise that your presence didn’t go unnoticed as you worked your way through the miserable throng. The sight of a young woman such as yourself, alone and unaccompanied during the midnight hours, was enough to capture the unwanted attention of a nearby group of intoxicated Illyrians.

They moved quickly.

One moment laughing amongst themselves as they stumbled along the uneven paving, and the next, they had you surrounded. Eyes ravenous and smiles sinister, they approached like a predator closing in on its prey.

The male closest to you hungrily trailed his tongue across his lips, taking a sweeping glance of your tense form before speaking, “Not lost are you sweetheart?”

The putrid scent of his foul breath was enough to make your wings curl in distaste, nose twitching with disgust as you replied curtly, “No, I’m just looking for my friend that’s all.”

You attempted to sidestep the male in order to continue on you way. Having provided them the false knowledge that someone was waiting for you, you hoped that would be enough to keep the group of inebriated males at bay.

Yet luck was not on your side tonight.

The firm grip of a calloused hand shooting out to meet your arm as the male who first spoke held you in place. “A friend?” he scoffed, knowing smile growing across his face as he made a show of checking his surroundings, lips pouting with faux disappointment as his eyes turned back to you, “I don’t see any friends.”

“Hence the looking” you spat, tearing your arm from his tight grasp as your wild eyes fluttered about in search of an exit route between the ever-nearing group of males.

Dauntingly, the largest of the warriors took a slow step towards you, wicked features half-lost to the shadows as he approached.

“You don’t need to lie sweetheart” he simpered, attempting to bring his hand to rest on your shoulder as you stumbled away from his touch. Flaring your wings in an attempt to appear more intimidating. But your action meant nothing to the male who continued to advance, “We’ll keep you company darling. What kind of gentlemen would we be if we left a pretty girl like you all alone in a place like this?”

Words lost to the rising panic growing in your chest, your gaze continued to fly around in desperation. Begging stare lost upon the disinterested faces of the passer-byers who wanted no part in the troublesome scene brewing.

In one final act of hope, you raised your fists. Ready to make a stand as you ignored the shaking of your wings and trembling of your knees. Yet your courage was wasted, sadistic laughs spilling from their lips as the males continued to move in closer, unphased by your valiant act of bravery.

But then darkness approached.

Lanterns extinguishing as the shadows crawled in.

With the light gone, the menacing grins plastered on your tormentors faces dropped, bodies tense as the dark silhouette of foreboding wings slowly crept towards them. Braced to flee as the stranger began to speak with a deadly air of calm.

“She’s not alone, she’s with me.”

~~~

You’d never had a friend before.

Windhaven had always been a place of strained alliances and disgruntled kinship. It was the last location you’d expect to see anything beautiful bloom amongst the weeds.

And yet, ever since that fateful day when the shadowsinger had swooped in to rescue you before delivering you safely home, you couldn’t quite shake the feeling that perhaps the two of you were meant to be more than amicable acquaintances.

Azriel must have shared that feeling. The male having come to find you the next day, and the day after that. Which is why it was no surprise that it didn’t take long for the two of you to become inseparable.

Those somber nights spent walking around the camp with only yourself for company were now far behind you. Rather, the young male sought you out at the end of each workday, whisking you away from your home before your father had even the chance to pick up a bottle.

It was during these nights, where the two of you would sit and talk for hours. Your conversation acting as an escape from the cruel reality of your lives. Each story told and laugh shared working to make the pair of you forget exactly what was waiting for you back at the camp.

Sometimes, the two of you didn���t even talk at all. Simply being within each other’s presence was soon enough for the two of you to be content. You never thought about your troubled father or uncertain future when you were with Azriel, you didn’t need to.

Not when being with him made you forget.

Therefore, it was no wonder that between your riveting conversations and lingering touches, you found yourself pondering exactly what your relationship with Azriel was.

That perhaps the feeling which had sparked inside of you upon your first meeting wasn’t just the need for friendship, but the desire for something greater.

And so for the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to dream.

~~~

Cassian’s frenzied appearance at your door was the last thing you had expected to see in the early hours of the morning. His chest heaving with the effort of catching his breath long enough to be able to get the words out.

“It’s. Az.”

He needn’t say another word, your feet already working to carry you away from your home as Cassian’s exhausted voice called out from behind, “The training rings, he’s at the training rings!”

You ran, feet aching and heart pounding, until you finally reached your destination. Feet dragging to a halt as your wide eyes witnessed the spine-chilling scene before you.

A bloodied Azriel, eye swollen and jaw bruised, was being torn from an equally mutilated male. Eyes savage and tongue bitter as he continued to shout unintelligible nonsense at the grounded Illyrian. Rhysand’s face turning red with the effort it was taking to restrain his hysterical friend.

“Az?” you uttered lowly, mouth parting in disbelief as you took in his manic state. Heart plunging as your eyes dropped to the weeping cuts on his blood-stained fists.

Ears pricking at your voice, Azriel’s head snapped towards you, body slacking in Rhysand’s hold as he noticed your arrival. Dark brows knitting together in shame as he shrank under your disappointed stare.

Mustering the strength to pull himself from Rhysand’s crushing grip, Azriel broke away from his friend. Casting one last lethal look towards the crumpled warrior at his feet before stalking away. Walking straight past you without so much as a glance in your direction.

“Males” you huffed with a shake of your head, struggling to tear your gaze from the macabre scene before you in order to chase after your friend.

It didn’t take you long to find him.

Azriel having predictably fled to the spot where you spent most of your time together. Retreating to the small clearing tucked deep within the forest surrounding Windhaven. No doubt needing a space far from prying eyes to clear his tempestuous thoughts.

You made to clear your throat as you approached, cautious not to startle an adrenaline-spiked Illyrian. Yet Azriel beat you to it.

“I’m not going to apologize” his gravelly voice cut through the silence of your surroundings, hazel eyes failing to meet your own as you closed the distance between you, “that bastard got what was coming to him.”

Lowering yourself to the leaf-littered ground in order to sit by his side, you took a deep breath before moving to rest your head against his tense shoulder. A soft sigh escaping from your lips before you spoke, “Are you alright? . . . Your hands -”

“Have seen worse” Azriel replied, lips twitching with the bare-bones of a smile in response to your concern, “I’m fine, truly.”

Yet his harrowed eyes told you otherwise.

Azriel’s gaze cold and absent as he stared at the forest floor.

“Why?” you simply asked, face a picture of confusion as you tried to make sense of what could have been said to elicit such a reaction from the shadowsinger.

“You wouldn’t understand” he said dismissively, shrugging as he started to pick at the laces of his boots in avoidance.

“Try me” you answered, hand moving to stop his anxious action, pulling his own into your lap to assess the damage that had been done. Hoping that if your eyes were occupied elsewhere, the male might find it easier to speak.

An hour may have passed, or perhaps only minutes, yet when Azriel finally spoke his voice commanded your attention, “He said I was unworthy of being an Illyrian.”

“That’s it?” you question, brows drawing together as you failed to understand how Azriel would let some simple little remark get under his skin in the way it had, “That’s all he said?”

Azriel released a shaky sigh, knuckles turning white underneath the caked blood as he elaborated. “I didn’t -” Azriel paused to allow a harsh exhale, “I didn’t grow up Illyrian.”

You were unable to stop the way in which your eyes left Azriel’s hand in order to flicker to his face in surprise. He had never spoken about his past before. You had always surmised that it wasn’t pretty, his scars had told you that much. But for the sake of his privacy you had never pressed him further.

Yet here he was, offering you a piece of his dark and twisted past.

“I spent most of my childhood in a cage. I couldn’t train, or fly. I didn't even have the luxury of space to spread my wings. And then . . .”

Your grip on Azriel's hand tightens as he struggled to find the words, your consoling touch giving him the strength he needed to continue, “And then my brothers thought it would be funny to test the true extent of an Illyrian’s healing gifts.”

The frigid nature of his fingers in your palm told you all you needed to know about that. Heart sinking and nausea growing as your gaze fell to the scarred contours of his hands, sickened that anyone would do that to a child – to their family.

“Then I was dumped here. Wings weak and hands frail," Azriel's frown of anger morphing into one of shame as he spoke, "and I felt . . . Useless. Eleven years old and I already knew that I was a lesser Illyrian than everybody else. All because I was never even given a chance at life.”

You wanted to speak, to comfort the male and tell him that he wasn’t the same little boy who had found himself stranded in Windhaven all those years ago, yet Azriel’s sharp inhale told you he wasn’t quite done.

“I could barely even hold a sword at training. It took years for my tendons to grow used to the strain. Even now I still have days where I struggle to even move them. . . But I worked too damn hard for anyone to tell me that I am any less of an Illyrian than they are.”

Azriel’s eyes were now swimming with tears, the male sniffling slightly as he finished what he had to say, “And when he told me that today . . . I was back to being that scared eleven-year-old boy with no friends. And I just felt worthless.”

"Never be ashamed of the things that make us” you reason, thumb moving to lightly caress the back of his scarred hand, "That's what determines a person's worth. Not their skill or ability. . . It's how hard a person fights to survive that tells you the most about them."

The shame washes from Azriel’s face, colour returning to his cheeks at your words. Soon your eyes were watering alongside his own as you gently brought your hand to meet the curve of his cheek, a soft smile gracing your lips as you spoke, “You’re not alone Az. Not anymore. You are one of the best things that has ever happened to me, and I won’t allow you to think you’re any less than that.”

Azriel stills, the tension in his shoulders easing as his grateful eyes moved to meet your own, "How is it. . . that you always know exactly what to say to make me feel better?"

You blush at the intensity of his thankful stare, ears burning red as you attempted to casually shrug away the male’s question, "Call it intuition."

Seeking to shift the male's attention from yourself, you hopped to your feet. Dusting yourself off as you offered out your hand for Azriel to take, "Come on trouble, let's go get you fixed up. I don't really think red is your colour."

And as the two of you walked back to camp, Azriel’s face now sore and aching as the adrenaline ebbed away, he wondered if he would ever have the courage to tell you that it wasn't being an Illyrian he was called unworthy of, but your love.

~~~

Spring had finally arrived at Windhaven.

The harsh conditions of winter had subsided, and the once icy camp had now thawed enough to reveal the frozen ground beneath. The shoots of new life, which had managed to outlast the chill of the dark months, now sprang forth in order to grow.

And for the Illyrian recruits, the changing of the seasons could only mean one thing.

The Blood Rite would soon commence.

All of Azriel's time had been given over to preparing for the upcoming ceremony. Hour after hour being spent in the training ring, perfecting his form, and building his strength. Whatever fleeting time you were able to have together was spent planning strategies and developing his survival skills.

You didn't mind, any time spent with Azriel was time well spent. You could even say that it was nice, witnessing the male in his element. The determination which coursed through his eyes whenever he spoke of the Blood Rite was enough to bring a proud smile to your lips.

Yet as the start of the ceremony loomed ever closer, you found yourself worrying more and more about Azriel’s well-being.

It’s not that you didn’t trust Azriel’s skill, but rather the fact that you didn’t trust the other males who would no doubt take great pleasure in besting the notorious shadowsinger.

Their leering sneers told you enough; Azriel was going to have to watch his back if he was planning on making it to Ramiel in one piece.

You did the best you could to help him, acquiring special ointments to massage into his aching hands with the hope of soothing his muscles for when the time came that he'd need to use his sword. You'd even taken to slipping various forms of mild poison into the food of the other males, praying that the toxins would keep their strength at bay long enough for Azriel to succeed.

But no amount of preparation worked to ease your anxiety as the day finally arrived. Your brow creased with worry as you stood in the square where the novice-warriors were beginning to gather, patiently waiting for Azriel to arrive in order to bid him farewell.

His confident smile, one of which he had no doubt worn for you, did nothing to sate your rising panic as he approached. Not even the soothing warmth of his comforting embrace brought you any joy. Rather, the action managed to bring tears to your eyes as you looked up to your friend in hapless despair, "Aren't I the one who's supposed to be doing the comforting?"

"You being here is enough for that" Azriel said lowly, hazel eyes squeezed tightly closed as he did his best to commit the feel of your body in his arms to memory. Not letting you part from his crushing hold until the camp leader had shouted the call for them to make their leave.

"Be safe" you choked through your tears as Azriel pulled away. His faux smile long forgotten as his expression turned into one of worry. Whether it was worry for your well-being or his own safety in the coming week, you did not know.

Azriel placed a parting kiss onto your forehead, hand lightly brushing against yours before he reluctantly began to walk away. "Always" he answered, hazel eyes never straying from you as he made his exit.

"Goodbye!" you called out after him, attempting to stretch an encouraging smile across your lips for his sake, your hand waving wildly as Azriel lifted his own to do the same. But then all of a sudden he stopped, body stiffening as though he had been struck by lightning.

Face drawn blank as he stared back at you.

"Az, what? -"

It took five steps for him to close the distance between you. Five swift steps for you to take in his dark, feral eyes. Five steps to wonder exactly what he was doing before his lips fell onto yours.

You had imagined this, the feel of his lips against yours, his tender hands wrapped around your curves as Azriel pulled you in closer.

But no dream could ever compare to the real thing.

To the feel of Azriel's soft lips molding against your own like they were made for each other. The heated desperation of the kiss working to steal your breath and weaken your knees. Each passionate swipe of his tongue and the salacious tug of your lip between his teeth, working to tell you everything that had until this moment remained unspoken.

And yet it was over all too soon.

Azriel pulling away upon the final call from his superiors, a heated breath of relief escaping from his swollen lips as he pulled away from you for the last time.

Finally turning to face his future, Azriel uttered, "No goodbyes."

This time when Azriel walked away, you allowed yourself to truly smile, eyes full of love as you enthusiastically waved goodbye until he was well out of sight.

The tears that fell, now ones of happiness as you watched the male head towards what he had worked so hard for. Heart full as you knew you needn't to be worried any longer.

Not when you knew Azriel had something worth fighting for – someone worth fighting for.

You.

Yet that feeling didn't last for long, all thoughts pulled from the shadowsinger as a heavy hand fell onto your shoulder.

Alarmed eyes shooting to the perpetrator, widening further still as they fell onto the gaunt face of your father. Eyes hollow and lips downturned as he ominously warned, "It's time girl."

~~~

It was dark when Azriel returned.

Having emerged from the rite victorious, the fortunate victors now arrived back into Windhaven to celebrate. Grins stretched across their lips as they walked towards the blazing fire where the rest of their evening was to be spent in merry enjoyment.

Yet there was no smile on the shadowsinger's face, not as he craned his neck to look past the crowd of well-wishers. Shadows aiding in his hunt by swimming through the pools of surrounding people, searching for the one face their master so longed to see.

Hoping to see the familiar smile which had carried him through the trials.

He needn't search far.

The sound of hurried footsteps filling his ears before a body collided with his own. His arms instinctively wrapping around your waist in order to pull you in closer, nose settling into the crook of your neck as he inhaled your sweet scent for the first time in a week.

"Gods, I missed you" he cried hoarsely, pulling back from the hug so as to be able to see your face again. Beaming as he brought a hand to cup your cheek, failing to notice the way in which your smile didn't quite meet your eyes. Adrenaline still rampant in his veins from the rite, Azriel wasted no time in bringing his lips to meet your own.

Where your first kiss had been rushed and desperate, this was one was slower, softer. Azriel taking his time with sweeping his lips over yours, savoring the moment in which you began to kiss him back. His worn hands working to slowly explore the length of your body as your lips danced together.

"Do you want to get out of here?" you whispered against his lips; words being met with the pearlescent grin of the shadowsinger.

Providing you with no answer, Azriel grabbed onto your hand before eagerly tugging you in the direction of his home. Too lost within his lovestruck haze to notice your unbalanced stumbles as you breathlessly trailed behind him.

"Az, where are you going? I thought we were going to celebrate!" Cassian's voice yelled after his retreating figure. Rhysand grabbed onto his brother's arm as he tugged him in the direction of the fire, a knowing smirk upon his lips as he answered, "I think he is celebrating Cas."

You were a flurry of limbs and giggles as you entered Azriel's home. Lips finding each other's once more as the pair of you became lost to your primal urges. The overwhelming need to be close to one another after only a week apart was almost too much to bear.

Sighs of intoxicated pleasure slipped from your mouth as Azriel began to trail his burning lips along the expanse of your neck. The male smirking as he slowly grazed his sharp teeth across your sensitive skin.

Needing more, Azriel moved to press your back against the wall in order to close the distance between you. Leaning in to seal your lips together once more until he was stopped by the painful cry which rang from your mouth.

It took seconds for the lust in the shadowsinger's dark eyes to fade.

Azriel's once sultry gaze growing panicked as his face contorted into a picture of horror. The amber glow of the faelight finally permissing him to see what the darkness of the night had hidden.

"Your wings!"

A shaky breath fell from Azriel's lips, hazel eyes swimming with tears as they raked over the scarred membrane of your clipped wings. Teeth bared as a low growl rumbled in his chest, "I'm going to kill him."

Fists trembling with rage, Azriel made to leave. Exhaustion after his trialing week long forgotten as the desire for revenge took an inescapable hold of him.

Yet your hands chased after him, holding onto Azriel's wrists in desperation as you looked up the male with begging eyes, "Stay. Please."

Shaking with the effort it was taking to stay put, Azriel sighed as he glances back to your wings. Jaw clenching as he cursed, "I should never have left."

Heart twinging at his self-placed blame, you pulled your lips into a sad smile, hand coming to rest against his quivering cheek, "You had to go Az, and I'm so proud of you for doing so."

A cry of protest slipped from his mouth, Azriel's eyes squeezing shut as he pressed his cheek further into your comforting hand. Voice breaking as he spoke, "They wouldn't have touched you if I was here."

"It was bound to happen eventually" you truthfully stated, "At least I was fortunate enough to keep mine, others aren't so lucky."

Azriel inhaled sharply, pulling you into a soft hug, careful not to disturb your fragile wings, "That doesn't make this any less right."

"No" you agreed, nuzzling deeper into Azriel's chest. His familiar scent a welcoming reminder that you were safe. No one could hurt you again, not whilst you were in Azriel’s arms. Content to stay in his embrace forever, you spoke, "But I have you, and that's all I need for now."

"I'll get you out of here" Azriel promised, loosening his hold on you just enough to allow his serious eyes to meet your own, "I don't know when. Or where we'll go. But I'll get you out. We’ll never have to see this damn camp again.”

"Together?" you asked, needing reassurance that you wouldn't have to face your uncertain future alone.

"Together" Azriel smiled.

~~~

"Stop peeking!" Azriel chided, unable to stop the smile of contentment which spread across his lips as you giggled at the sensation of his warm breath tickling the skin of your neck.

"I'm not!" you promised, chuckling as Azriel's palm moved to better cover your lightly closed eyes.

The shadowsinger hummed in disagreement, his free hand coming to curl around your stomach. Pulling you closer into his chest as he led you deeper into the forest.

"You're going to make me fall" you warned with a laugh, stumbling as Azriel's legs bumped against your own. The male's arms moving to hold you tighter still, soft lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "So long as you're in my arms, I will never let you fall."

Thankful that Azriel couldn't see your rising blush, you allowed him to walk you towards whatever surprise he had planned. Satisfied the shadowsinger would keep you safe, you tightly squeezed your eyes shut.

Putting your trust into the males loving hands.

You needn't walk much further, Azriel gently pulling you to a stop as the warmth of the evening breeze began to kiss your cheeks. The heat of the setting sun working to banish the chill that had settled in your bones as you moved through the shadowed forest.

"Ok angel," Azriel purred, the hand covering your face moving to your shoulder as he placed a swift kiss upon your temple, "take a look."

Your eyes fluttered open, squinting as the amber glow of the evening flooded into your vision. Heart pleasantly aching at the view that greeted you once your gaze came into focus.

"It's beautiful Az" you softly gasped, mouth parting in awe as you took in the picturesque scene before you. The slowly setting sun, inching ever closer towards the horizon. The ghostly silhouette of the towering mountains in the distance. The woolen blanket, carefully laid across the ground before you.

"It is" Azriel answered, tender eyes never leaving your delicate features.

Reluctantly tearing your gaze from the breathtaking view, you turned back to Azriel with a crease between your brows, "But why? . . . I've not forgotten something important have I?"

"No, not at all. I just wanted to do something nice for you" Azriel reassured. His hands moving to gently cup your cheeks in order to pull your loving eyes to meet his own. But you didn't fail to miss the rising pool of sadness which swam amongst his affectionate gaze.

"What is it?" you asked, your once peaceful expression now morphing into one of worry, "What's wrong?"

A low sigh fell from the male's lips, Azriel's forehead gingerly coming to rest against yours, "I've been given my orders, the High Lord asked for me himself. . . I am to leave tomorrow."

Your heart sank, mouth growing dry upon the realization that this would be your last night together for a while. But this was what Azriel had always dreamed of, having a purpose. Having worth. And so you would not allow yourself to be selfish and ruin that dream.

"T-that's great Az" you exclaimed, forcing a proud smile onto your lips, "You've worked so hard for this."

"But you-" Azriel contested, ever the selfless Illyrian.

"Will still be here when you return" you reassured him, moving to place a sweet kiss onto his forehead.

Azriel's eyes softly closed at your gesture, a shaky breath drawing from his lips before he quietly spoke, your heart aching at his solemn words, "I just wish we had more time."

"We have time now" you soothed, blinking away your tears before taking Azriel's hand into your own, gently pulling him towards the waiting blanket, "Let this night be our forever."

There, wrapped in Azriel's embrace, the two of you sat and talked as though you had all the time in the world. Because there, sat within the comfort of his arms, the fading amber of the setting sun before you, it felt as though you did.

"Azriel?" you quietly ask once the conversation had dwindled into a peaceful silence.

"Hmm?" he replied, hazel eyes sweeping over your face in question. His hand moving to lovingly tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

"Kiss me."

Wordlessly, Azriel brought his thumb to slowly brush across your lip. Hooded gaze growing dark as a radiant smile crossed his face. Leaning in to huskily whisper in your ear, "How lucky I am, to have been blessed by an angel as beautiful as you."

And then his lips crashed to yours.

It was a heated battle of tongues and teeth. Azriel biting back a groan at the softness of your lips as they worked against his own. Your intoxicating scent delectably filling his senses until Azriel's thoughts were consumed only by you.

Moving to sit in his lap, you desperately pulled at the top of his leathers. Azriel aiding you in removing the item before your warm hands instantly moved to explore the vast expanse of his muscular chest. Mouth coming back to meet his own as you playfully nipped at the shadowsinger's lips, eliciting a soft whimper from the male who found himself entirely at your mercy.

Skirt bunching at your hips, you broke the kiss to slip your dress from your body. Nipples pebbling as the cool evening air hit your breasts. Azriel's hands froze, hovering over the curves of your waist, lustful gaze turning hesitant as his touch shied from your unblemished skin.

Seeking to quell his hesitance, you brought your hands to meet his own, lightly kissing the scarred flesh before whispering a soft truth, "You're perfect, Az." Hips moving to grind against his hardening member as you reiterated, "Every last inch of you is perfect."

Slowly, you raised Azriel's tense hands to rest against your breasts, the supple skin working to ease his trembling until the dark cloud of desire pooled in his eyes once more. His once stiff fingers relaxing as they began to work your breasts, the male smiling softly as cries of pleasure began to spill from your lips.

Unable to help the way your hips were bucking in desperation, you moved to unlace Azriel's pants as his swollen lips came to gently suck the sensitive skin of your neck, tongue working to trail over each of the purple marks left behind. A low groan escaping from his mouth as you pulled his aching cock from his leathers, twitching as you moved to wrap your hand around his length.

Azriel's hands flew to your waist as he made to flip you over. However, unwilling to hand over your control so easily, your firm hands moved to keep him beneath you. The smoky tendrils of his shadows creeping in to hold their master in place.

Eyebrows knitting together in protest, Azriel made to argue. Yet your teasing words beat him to it, "Poor Illyrian baby." Hand coming to rest on the center of his chest, you languidly rolled your hips against his leaking cock, "Relax, Azriel. Let me take care of you."

Moaning at the sound of his name on your lips, Azriel settled with placing his hands on your hips. The shadowsinger lifting you up in order to allow the head of his cock to slip between your soaking folds.

Inhaling deeply, you lower yourself onto him. Your soft whimper meeting Azriel's guttural cry as you sunk until he was fully sheathed inside of you. Allowing you the time to adjust, Azriel placed sweet kisses along your collarbones. Whispers of how perfect your heat felt wrapped around his cock tumbled from his lips, distracting you from the twinge of pain which had risen from the unfamiliar stretch.

Only when the ache had subsided, and your desire for more had become all too overwhelming, did you then move your hands to Azriel's shoulders. Clutching onto the shadowsinger for support as you began to move. Slowly raising your hips before sinking back down onto his cock once more.

It didn't take the two of you long to find a pleasurable rhythm.

Azriel's bruising grip on your waist working to pull your body down in time to meet his forceful thrusts. Incoherent mumblings of pleasure slipping from your lips as Azriel fucked you with a brutal pace.

It was only when you were nearing your high, and you wanted Azriel to ride the wave of pleasure alongside you, did you stretch your hand out to rake a teasing finger along the sensitive membrane of his wing. Azriel's cock pulsating inside of you as the male stilled, a strangled shout falling from his mouth at your action.

Pleased with the male's reaction, you repeated the motion, nail brushing against his twitching wings once more. A low growl rumbled in Azriel's chest, eyes blown black as he moved to flip the two of you over. Your own wings stretching out in order to allow you to comfortably lie on your back.

Azriel's cock never leaving your heat for a moment as he continued his unforgiving pace. Stars blurring your vision as his relentless pounding pulled you nearer and nearer to completion.

And then the wave crashed over you, vision turning white as a scream of pleasure tore from your lips. Azriel continuing his merciless thrusts as he chased after his own high, hands falling to your hips to try and steady your spasming body.

It wasn’t long after that Azriel followed suit, thrusts faltering as he came with a hoarse groan. The male exhaling a soft sigh of satisfaction as he withdrew himself from your core, arms caging your body as he rolled over in order to pull you on top of his chest.

Panting, Azriel raised a hand to brush the stray wisps of hair from your face. Eyes blowing wide with realization as he found himself unable to stop the words which fell from his lips next, "I love you."

Your breath caught in your throat, teary gaze looking to Azriel as your lips parted wordlessly. You had waited years for this, to hear the words you thought you would never be fortunate enough to hear. And now the moment had come you found yourself utterly incapable of expressing the undying devotion you felt for the male in front of you.

"I love you" Azriel repeated, unphased by your lack of an immediate answer, "I always have, from that very first day. All it took was one look and I knew you were it for me."

Tears welling in his hazel eyes, Azriel takes in a shaky breath before he continues, "I love you like the sun loves the moon. So much so that I would die every night, so only to let you breathe."

A sob escaped from your lips, your hand moving to rest against Azriel's cheek in order to allow your thumb to gently catch each falling tear. "Shadows" you corrected with a small smile, Azriel's expression morphing into one of confusion, "I love you like the sun loves the shadows. That I would give up my light, so only to see you dance."

Softly, you brought your lips to his. And even with the smallest of kisses, you were able to show the eternal nature of your love.

"I don't want to go" Azriel weakly cried, his words bringing you back to the unfair reality you had been dealt.

It was your turn to lovingly brush his dark hair back, matching tears falling down your own cheeks as you answered, "It's not forever. We'll see each other again."

"I'll come say goodbye tomorrow morning" he promised, sorrowful voice cracking as he spoke.

"No goodbyes, Az" you said with a bittersweet smile, moving to rest your head against his chest in order to savor your remaining time together.

As you watched the night crawl in, and the warm hues of the day had long since melted into the inky darkness; you wondered if the sun yearns for the comfort of night. In the same way you yearned for the comfort of his shadows.

~~~

Azriel's absence took a toll on you.

Your joy-filled days once spent in his company were now long forgotten as the mundane reality of life without the shadowsinger had finally come to pass.

It was as though Azriel had taken all the warmth with him when he left. The absent presence of his comforting embrace allowing the bitter chill of Windhaven to permanently settle into the marrow of your bones.

The arrival of each new month a cruel reminder that you had been left behind. Spite festering within your heart upon realization that your fate, alongside that of every other female's here, was forever bound to the camp.

Yet the dark clouds brewing overhead signaled a change in the wind.

War was coming to Prythian.

Whispers of skirmishes arising between the faeries and the mortals travelled like wildfire throughout the camp. All eyes warily looking up to the approaching storm which was steadily growing above the shadowed mountains of Illyria.

It was the males who left first, called to action by their High Lord.

You watched them leave through your frosted window, wondering if Azriel would be waiting for them at their final destination. Pondering what life would have in store for them now that they were free from the burdensome shackles of the prisonous camp. Ultimately knowing that they would fare no better in the future that awaited them at the frontlines.

The next sign that the war had finally arrived was the diminishing supplies. Even miles away from the nearest frontier, the conflict didn't leave Windhaven untouched.

Wartime Illyria was not a place for luxuries. Materials were growing scarce and food even more so, all your valuable recourses having been sent to the warriors in the mortal lands. Your father growing increasingly insufferable as his forced sobriety from the rationed drinks plagued him like an unquenchable thirst.

And then a stranger arrived at your camp.

A male from Dawn, skilled in the art of medicine, seeking aid in healing the countless victims left wounded from the violet acts of war.

Unsurprisingly, the hostile inhabitants of Windhaven all turned their noses up at his cry for help, unwilling to risk their lives on the battlefield for the sake of another's. Yet to you, the call for aid was a blessing. An invitation for you to do the one thing you've always wanted to.

Leave.

So for once in your life you allowed yourself to be selfish.

You didn't think about whether Azriel would return for you - far too many years had passed for you to still think that was a possibility. You didn't even think about your hopeless father, who without your help would surely succumb to his toxic lifestyle.

You only thought about the little girl who used to dream of seeing the world. Bright-eyed and unbroken as she spent her days wishing for someone to come and save her from the iron cage she called her home.

But no one was coming for you, you understood that now.

And so, longing to make a name for yourself in a kinder world, you answered the call.

Walking away from Windhaven without so much as a glance at the life you were leaving behind.

~~~

Azriel was dreaming again.

Dreaming of you.

Of moonlit encounters and sun-kissed embraces.

Glowing smiles and heated kisses.

And at the center of it all, you.

Yet when he wakes the sheets are cold and bare.

But the ghost of you never strays far from Azriel's mind.

~~~

His mornings always started the same.

Azriel rudely torn from his sweetened dreams by the coming of a new day. Chest unnaturally empty as he gathered the will to crawl out from the security of his sheets.

A stranger in his own home, he drifts downstairs.

Spending breakfast alongside the beaming faces of his brothers and their equally contented mates. The shadowsinger a silent observer of their animated conversations, only ever sparing a grunt of acknowledgement whenever the discussion turned his way.

Their gleeful smiles a glaring reminder to Azriel that he still hadn't found the missing piece of his soul. Tender heart aching as he longed to find the same overwhelming sense of happiness that his family shared around him. Unaware of his brother's concerned stares as they watched him slowly turn into a shell of the male he used to be.

Their worry growing, as with each passing day Azriel became more and more like one of his shadows.

Silent and unyielding.

Yet Azriel found himself helpless when it came to fighting the crushing feeling that he was to forever remain alone. Unable to sit there and watch his friends fall in love without wondering why the cauldron hadn't dealt him the same blessed fate.

Your haunting presence never failing to return to the forefront of his mind as Azriel feared that his first love was also bound to be his last.

~~~

Wallowing seemed to be Azriel's new favourite past time.

Even in the company of his friends and family, the shadowsinger failed to ever truly let the lines of his smile meet his eyes. Mind numb and heart aching, Azriel's increasingly glum attitude did not make for the most pleasant of companies.

Yet, unable to sit around as her friend slowly became half the male he used to be, Feyre decided that she wouldn't allow the Illyrian to pull away without putting up a fight. Adamant that the Azriel she used to know was simply hidden away, the Lady of Night wondered if perhaps the soothing touch of a woman was all that the male needed in order for his depressive episode to lift.

And so, having ignored Rhysand's warnings that trying to force love onto the shadowsinger would be a bad idea, Feyre began her master plan.

She started small.

Testing the waters by suggesting to Azriel that it would be nice for him to step into Velaris's dating scene. Casually mentioning that a friend of hers was looking for a partner and she thought the pair of them would be well-matched.

Much to her dismay, her efforts were met with no result, Azriel's gruff reply being a crude remark that if her friend were so desperate for a partner then she may have better luck searching in a brothel.

However, not one to give up so easily, Feyre persisted.

Each passing day bringing about new opportunities for her to share the news of a potential love interest that she believes the male should indulge in.

In the beginning, Azriel found amusement in Feyre periodically showing up at his door. He'd even feign interest as the female listed off the attributes of yet another young maiden she claimed would be perfect for him. Smiling along encouragingly as she spoke before ultimately shutting his door in her face.

But what the male hadn't predicted, was just how far Feyre would go in order to secure the happiness of her friend.

Determined that Azriel would find love so only he tried, the High Lady had neglected to tell the shadowsinger about his evening plans until the hour of his date was already upon him.

Feyre merrily bouncing on her heels as she broke the news to the male, excitable grin plastered across her lips as she waited in bated anticipation for Azriel's appreciative reaction.

But it never came.

Instead, Azriel's face turned deathly pale as his eyes briefly flickered over to the young woman standing besides Feyre, a shy smile gracing her face as she waited for the shadowsinger to greet her.

"What is this?" Azriel asked roughly. Taking the time to swallow the rising storm of anger which had settled on his tongue, the male well aware that Feyre's friend was just an innocent victim in the Lady of Night's game.

"This is your date, Az" Feyre said encouragingly, "It's time to put yourself out there."

The thundering whispers of his shadows were impossible to ignore.

Not her, they cried into his ears. Not her.

Azriel willed himself a stretched smile, chest tight and breathing difficult as he turned to Feyre's friend, "I apologize miss, my High Lady has chosen to lead you here under false pretenses, I'm not looking for a partner. Please allow me to walk you home."

Feyre's face fell in dejection, lips parted in surprise as her bewildered gaze fell upon Azriel's unrevealing expression, "But . . . I thought-"

"You thought wrong," Azriel interjected, hurt shining through his furious stare, "We'll discuss you and your thoughts once I've taken your friend home."

Feyre was still there upon Azriel's return, her face a picture of fury as the male walked through the door, "What was that?"

"What was that?" Azriel scoffed, his booming voice echoing against the hollow walls of the house's entryway, "What the fuck were you thinking Feyre?"

The female shrunk under Azriel's burning gaze, ears turning red with embarrassment as she quietly answered, "I was just trying to help. . . I thought you wanted to find love."

"I had love!" Azriel shouted in response. His outburst enough to have gathered Rhysand's attention as the High Lord winnowed into the room, rushing towards his teary mate's side.

"I had love" Azriel repeated lowly, voice cracking as he spoke, "And look how well that turned out for me."

"That's not Feyre's fault Az" Rhysand answered in defense of his mate, tone calm and steady as he worked to ebb away his brother's rising anger, "She didn't know."

"No, she didn't" Azriel replied solemnly, accusatory stare turning to the High Lord, "But you did and yet you still let her do it. . . But it's fine! Let's all play with Azriel's heart because we need some entertainment."

Rhysand's mouth dropped open, failing to find an answer that his brother deserves to hear. A cold laugh of disbelief fell from Azriel's lips, the male shaking his head as he began to walk away, "You know why I can't move on Rhys. Why I never will."

It was in that moment, whilst Rhysand watched Azriel's retreating figure, did the male then realize what all this was about. That it wasn't love that Azriel had been searching for all these years; it was you.

~~~

He came at night.

The firelight cowering in his presence.

Its amber flames licking at the darkness which had arrived alongside him. Those familiar violet eyes twinkling through the shadows as your High Lord slowly stepped into the light.

"My, my" Rhysand crooned, lips pulling into a cheshire smile, "You are a difficult woman to find."

"Rhys?" you ask in disbelief, resisting the urge to pinch yourself. Afraid of waking up from whatever strange dream your mind had conjured, "What are you doing here?"

"What I should have done centuries ago. . ." Rhysand answered, his charming smile failing to hide the worry which danced in his telling eyes, "I'm taking you home."

~~~

Azriel had grown up listening to the tales of men who claimed to have seen the Mother.

Their stories full of mighty wonder as they spoke of a being so perfect that her beauty alone was enough to drive even the strongest of males to the brink of insanity.

He had never believed them of course. Having laughed at their foggy eyes and lovesick expressions, believing their drunken words to have been no more than what they were. Fairytales.

But there you were.

Smile just as warm as he remembered, features just as soft.

Standing there in ethereal beauty as you waited for the shadowsinger to approach. Yet all Azriel could do was stare, wordless mouth parted in shock as the realization dawned on him that this was the closest he would ever get to seeing the Mother herself.

Azriel's hand flew to his chest. Never having imagined that after all this time your beauty would still have the power to disarm him just as it had done the day you first met. Unable to stop the cry of joy which fell from his lips as his dormant heart sparked to life. Eyes closing in relief as he felt the familiar comfort of its rhythmic pounding once more.

His love reborn as your two souls reunited once more.

"Hi Az" you beam, hand coming to rest against his tear-stained cheek, your voice coaxing the trembling male to open his hazel eyes, "I've missed you."

Stunned speechless, all Azriel could do was cry.

Weeping as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders, the two of you sinking to the floor as he fell into the comfort of your loving embrace. The recognizable scent of your sweet aroma finally spurring his words into existence, "I came back for you."

You inhaled sharply at his words, pulling away from the hug in order to meet his sincere gaze. "After the war" he explained, stumbling over his words in an attempt to get them out, "I wanted to bring you to Velaris. . . But you weren't there. They told me that you were gone, that you were never coming back."

Hushing the male you moved his head to rest against your chest, running your fingers through his dark hair in attempt to calm him. Your own tears running down your face at the realization that Azriel had come back for you.

That he hadn't forgotten you.

"I'm here now" you promised softly, gently placing a kiss atop of the shadowsinger's head, "And I'm not going anywhere-"

You barely managed to get the words out before Azriel's lips crashed onto yours. Whimpering at the familiar sensation of his soft lips against your own. Five hundred years, that's how long you had yearned for this. For his mouth, his touch, his warmth.

Azriel pulled away, lifting his hands to your face in order to wipe away the stay tears which remained. "I love you" he blurted, hazel eyes sparking with life as he said the words, "cauldron I love you."

An overjoyed laugh tumbled from your lips, your tender smile wide as you listened to what Azriel had to say.

"No more waiting" Azriel begged, "I've already wasted five hundred years that should have been spent by your side. But not anymore. . . I'll spend the next five hundred years telling you just how much I love you. . . So long as you still want me that is, if there isn't anyone else."

"Want you?" you asked in surprise, "I'm already yours Az, I always have been. So just as they were the first, let your lips be the last to ever kiss mine. Because you're it for me Az, there is no one else."

You didn't need to ask again, Azriel bringing his lips to meet yours once more. Taking his time to pour all of his love into the action before pulling away to whisper a promise against your parted lips, "I'll never leave you again, not as long as I live."

"I won't let you" you answer, pulling the male into another crushing hug, "I'm never letting go of you again."

It was there, wrapped within your embrace on the floor of his home, that Azriel finally allowed himself to believe that everything was going be ok. Because how could it not be when his happiness had finally returned. The shadowsinger safe with the knowledge that at the end of the night, the sun will rise.

[bi-writes]

mercenary!ghost is dead inside. he wonders what it leaves behind on his pretty little bunny.

notes about reader: as always, reader is curvy and ghost knows exactly what he wants to do with all that ass

more mercenary!ghost (part 2/?)

word count: 5k

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, pet names (luv, pet, bunny + rabbit, puppy), dark!ghost, mean!ghost, toxic!ghost, ghost is thicc, mentions of violence and gore + murder and extortion, mw3 spoilers, mentions of ghost's canon trauma, tw smoking, innocence kink, corruption kink, size kink (reader described as much smaller, manhandled easily), suggestive touching and oral (fem!receiving), cumplay, mentions of dubcon but relationship/dynamics are consensual, simon "i eat pussy like a god" riley

his phone is ringing. it surprises him, the sound of it. it's not familiar, to hear it ring, to see a name on the screen of it and recognize it.

there was no one left to call. not until now.

he adjusts his hold on his rifle, slipping an earbud into his ear.

"'ello?"

"almost back yet?" it's you. rattling your cage.

"'m busy."

"i know--" he clicks his tongue when you say this, annoyed. "but you're not back yet."

"i'll be back when i'm back."

"yeah, but when is that?"

brat.

"'s this how it's gonna be? botherin' me when 'm out?"

"uh huh. so when are you gonna be back?"

"when 'm back."

you huff at that, and ghost snarls a bit under the mask, adjusting the scope and peering through it. there is movement, and he focuses. then your soft voice sounds again, "are you with someone else?"

there's a grunt, and then a firm, "no." and it is the truth, and you know it is, because he doesn't care enough to lie to you. you sigh on the other end, staring up at the ceiling with a wobbly bottom lip.

"we done 'ere?" he asks after a long pause. you sniffle, closing your eyes.

"take me with you next time."

he hangs up before he answers. needy little puppy he has, he knows this. he isn't unfamiliar with this kind of dynamic. it wasn't unlike the job he used to have--a lieutenant, a man in charge, in command of other needy puppies that needed to be put in their place. he wonders often if johnny would have liked you, but you are enough trouble as it is on your own.

a pet dies and another is bought; whatever ghost is, he outlives them.

he attracts them, he thinks. the ones who ache to belong. from the first moment he met you, he knows that is why he felt his blood run a little warmer at the sight of you--it is something in your eyes, something he recognizes, something that he knows tastes so fucking good. there is predator, and there is prey, and then there is the in-between. the purgatory of those who have no idea who they are. they must be shown. they have to be taught, and if they fall into the wrong hands, they are mangled and chewed through.

he wonders for a moment if maybe his mother was one of them. then he remembers that it doesn't matter what she was, because his father had black running through his veins. the same black that simon thinks he sees in the mirror--and sometimes it bleeds onto his face, he swears it's there, hiding underneath the eye-black he paints on himself.

when he was younger, he used to hide from his reflection because of it. the rot of the other half that he was made of, it terrified him. he feared being consumed by it. he was afraid of letting it show, he was afraid of scaring other people.

but when he crawled himself out of his early grave and buried the good half of himself, he didn't flinch in the mirror any longer. he let himself linger there, and when he swiped the black against his pale skin for the first time, he remembers thinking that maybe it had always been there. that he doesn't recognize himself without it because this is what i am, something made of ash, something that shouldn't be here, the remnants of something that touched a flame too hot and swallowed something foul. rancid.

and maybe that is what he's been doing since then--maybe that is what the hollow place is that he feels inside, maybe it's the half that he buried that he wishes so fucking badly to hold onto because it's the only thing that distracted him from feeling like the thing that he truly is. and maybe that is why he died again when johnny did; it was too late to realize that the hollowness is back, and it is deeper, and it hurts now, fuck, take it back, take it away--

and maybe that is why he hates you in some way. because the space is gone. it is filled again; and you fit so perfectly there, and it will happen again, and he has no idea how many more times he can lose the redeemable half of him until there is nothing left to redeem.

but black still runs in his veins, and he is selfish, and he will hold onto it until it's gone. he doesn't care. he is a thing, he is not real, and it doesn't matter to him if he will die again when you do, because while he has you, he will drink what you give him. salvation, redemption, painting his blood red, whatever the fuck it is that you are meant to give him, he will take it, and he will devour it, and he doesn't care what he leaves behind.

he wants it. it's selfish, it's cruel, but he wants it. everything he touches fades away; if he was something real, he would cut you off. but he isn't, and he doesn't care, and he's curious to know what the stain of himself will look like on you.

beautiful you. such a pretty girl. soft like a bunny, glittering eyes--if he was a poet, he might say they are filled with starlight. but ghost is a predator; the shine of you only makes his mouth water.

you were his the moment he saw you for the very first time. he was not inclined to ask your permission, but it wouldn't have mattered--he knew as soon as your eyes met, really met, that he had you. hook, line, and sinker--there it is, there she is, what she really is inside. there is a light there inside of you, he could see it.

he is going to snuff it out. he doesn't know why, but he will, because he wants to. he has an urge to kill something, and he thinks whatever it is that swims in you will do just fine. he knows, somehow, that you will look beautiful covered in it--in the tears when he breaks, when he tears, when he destroys, you will look beautiful, and he won't stop until he takes all of it. he knows, too, he doesn't know how he knows but he knows, that you will let him.

he crossed another name off his list today. he watched them on a lonely rooftop all morning, and it rained. he watched them move back and forth, between doorways, answering phone calls. he doesn't ask questions, so he wonders occasionally what it is they did to warrant a visit from him.

they could've stolen. maybe they betrayed; that is a popular motivation. lovers' quarrels--he knows what it is to die for love, but dying for love at the wrong end of his rifle isn't in marriage vows. maybe they were in the wrong place at the wrong time; maybe they saw what they shouldn't have, and it was enough for a visit from their guardian angel.

sometimes he thinks that what he does is at their mercy; because if he didn't do it, if he didn't make it so quick, so easy, they would suffer. at least this way, by his hand, they would never know. he brings comfort. ease.

it is the same with you, it has to be. he closes his fist and bangs on the outside of your door. the wood rattles under the force, and when you open the door, the look that you give him only solidifies his assumption. if it wasn't him keeping you, then it would be someone else. someone else would look into those eyes, and they would take from you, but they wouldn't be like him. he takes, and he will take, but you won't know that you are empty until it's too late.

that is merciful, isn't it? this kind of love is forgiving, right? the kind that shields, the white lies that protect, that blindfold that hides--this is humane. he is a thing, a predator, yes, but he isn't like the others.

right?

you step aside, and he has to maneuver his shoulders to make it past the narrow doorway. as you close the door, your eyes linger. he wears a dark rain jacket over a long sleeve, dark cargo pants tucked into heavy boots. he wears a holster on one meaty thigh, but it only holds a small pack there. his balaclava is plain, hiding all but his dark eyes, and the hood of his jacket casts a long shadow over him. the gloves he wears are of a utility variety--he worked today. if you ask him, he will say yes, but he will not tell you anything else.

sometimes, you aren't sure if he just doesn't care or if he is trying to protect you from some ugly truth. but then you remember that there are no ugly truths with ghost; the truth is as it is, nothing more and nothing less, and if he hides it from you, it is because you simply don't need to know.

you lock the door behind you, leaning against it. he moves through your apartment with ease. he has been here before, but it feels as if he has always been here. he knows how to rattle the balcony door to get the lock to free, and you don't remember showing him how to unlatch it. you busy yourself with putting the kettle to boil as you see him light a match, a cigarette between two gloved fingers.

it's a nasty vice. it blackens the lungs, shrinks the organ, addicts the user. but it tastes good. and it feels good. and it isn't what will kill him, because this isn't real.

you come outside, a mug of tea in your hand, and you set it down beside him. he flicks ash off the cigarette, spreading his legs wide as he sits there, watching the street below. it's quiet because it's raining, and while the balcony is covered, it wets the toes of his boots.

he looks so good. he spreads himself out in the chair, taking up so much space, and his hand that doesn't hold the cigarette is spread out along his thigh, running absentmindedly down the material of his pants. it's hard to describe the breadth of him--ghost is just big. his hands, the height of him, the space that you can tuck yourself into his chest. he could curl you around his arm, wrap you up with both of them, trap you there. you don't hate the thought of that, the idea of him keeping you there like that. you think about the width of his hand, how it might look with the black of his glove spread out across your throat, holding you there, keeping you there.

you think about what it would be like to be under his mercy. his control. to feel the press of those fingers against the hollow of your throat, knowing he could crush your windpipe with just one perfectly placed squeeze. he would know where to touch. he would know where to tug just right to cut the air off.

it's too bad you didn't know you already belonged to him.

"can i have some?"

you nod to the cigarette burning in his hand. his eyes flicker up to look at you for a moment before he adjusts in the chair. he shrugs finally.

"'f you want."

you put a hand on his shoulder, lowering yourself to sit on his lap. you wear nothing except for a loose shirt, one that covers you to your thighs, but when you sit, it rides up. he takes the weight of you easily, not looking strained in the slightest, one arm supporting the thickness of your thighs with a firm grasp.

you lean forward a little, into him, and he brings the cigarette to your lips. you wrap your lips around it, taking a breath. you want to revel in that fact that you're putting your lips around something his own have touched, and then you start to cough.

the air burns. you turn your head to the side and wheeze; you hear a condescending chuckle, and you go warm with embarrassment. but his hand rubs small circles into your back, coaxing the smoke out of your lungs. you take in a few strong breaths to clear the smoke, and then you look away from him.

"not a smoker, eh?"

"that was...my first time."

when your head turns back to face him shyly, he tilts his head to the side. you cannot see any of his expression, but you imagine he's curious. the way his eyes look you up and down tell you that much.

"wot, you saw me do it, 'n ya think y'can take it?"

you don't respond, just keep your eyes on his. your fingers move, spreading across the solidity of his chest, and you rest them there. you lean in a little more, your face only a few mere inches from his own, and it gives you an opportunity to examine him so close.

his mask is weathered, the skull mouth painted along the mouth a little faded and messy with wear. he smells like cigarettes and earth, wet soil and ash and something warm. the eye-black that is smeared across his eyes fades out at the edges, and the paleness of his skin peeks out a little. you know the black covers the tiredness under his eyes, the lines that must be set in his face from how much he frowns. he has blonde lashes and dark eyes, and what intrigues you the most is that you can see the jagged edge of a healed scar peeking out from under the fabric that hides him.

he frowns, and you see the furrowing of the skin underneath. you meet his eyes again, and it feels surreal to see him in this much detail. you don't think this is a common occurrence; you have a feeling that anyone that has ever gotten this close to him did not live to talk about it the next day.

he has never told you, but you know death follows him. you have never seen what war has done to him, you can't see the rough skin and the patches where skin has been shredded or torn off, but you know, sitting so close to him, that he leaves bodies behind him and terrifies the ones that approach.

you wonder if you should be afraid, but then you remember that if he wanted to kill you, he would have done it by now. he does not want to kill you.

he wants to eat you.

you have asked him once what he does for work. he said he used to work for the military, but he didn't say anymore. when you asked what he did now, he said he was an independent contractor.

a contractor for what, you did not get the answer to. just that he was his own boss now, and no one told him what to do anymore.

"what did you do today?" you ask him finally, reaching up timidly and slipping a thumb down the line of his strong jaw.

"work."

"and how was it?"

he does not answer, and your eyes flicker back up to his, studying his reaction. he doesn't give one, just eyes the line of your throat as you swallow hard.

"a good pay day then?" you ask, and he hums at that. you smile a little, reaching up with both hands and cupping his masked cheeks gently. "must be good at what you do."

his face flickers a bit at that. he sniffs, looking to the side before back at you, shrugging those broad shoulders of his. one of his big hands comes up and slips up the shirt you wear, gripping your ass firm.

"good at other things, too," is all he says, and you smooth one of your thumbs down the row of painted teeth along the mouth of the mask. his breath comes out warm under your thumb.

"like killing people?"

his hand stiffens against you, and he glares up at you. a huff of a breath comes out, and you tense a little. he flicks the cigarette onto the ground, reaching up with that hand and gripping you around the jaw. your face fits nicely in his hand, and you might enjoy it if it wasn't so aggressive, the way he touched you. he shakes you a little, bringing you close enough that you can feel the wetness of his snarl against your lips.

"that wot y'think i am? some kind o'murderer?" he spits. "think 'm some kind o'fuckin' killer?"

a wave of tears prick the sides of your eyes, and you grip his wrist tight, trying to keep the pressure off of you.

"i know what you do," you whisper. "i know what you do, it's pretty obvious."

"yeah? 'n ya think it's a good idea to fuckin' talk t'me this way? ask me questions you don't want the answers to?"

you narrow your eyes, and you stare back at him, matching the intensity of his own. this makes him laugh; there is no humor in his laugh, but he laughs, and he rattles your whole head as he brings you close enough that your lips brush against the fabric of his mask.

"oh...you want me to tell ya...want me to spill all my bloody secrets..." he growls. you let out a whine when he brings you even closer, smashing your lips against the front of his mask. you choke out a whimper, and you swear you feel his tongue trying to find yours through the barrier. "think y'can handle the lot like me, bunny, and you can't. blood on m'ledger would fuckin' drown you."

and it is the truth, he knows it is, and he wouldn't lie to you because he just doesn't fucking care enough to think up a lie. he didn't serve so many years, he didn't give so much time to what he thought was righteous to come home and paint war as a pretty picture to civilians like you. war is blood, war is loss, war is what takes and takes and takes from a man, until they are things. until they come home and realize they have no idea what they were fighting for when they seem the same dirty streets they left behind.

when their brothers still get killed. when their families still come apart. when their lovers betray them, when they break their hearts--when they realize they are glorified weapons for the politicians that don't care about them, that send them away to die, that refuse to support them when they come home without the goodness that they left with.

he gave his entire life up for this. they took his family, they took the only half of him that mattered, and what was it for? nothing waits for him at home. there is no one in his bed, there is no one to call, there was no money in the bank.

there is only the memories that manifest into nightmares, and the blue sky that reminds him of blue eyes. the blue eyes that he could not save, the blue eyes that haunt him, that ask him, desperately--let the bonnie lass go, LT. you cannae save'er.

but he is a lieutenant, and he was a sergeant, and he didn't take fucking orders from anyone anymore anyways.

you are his, and you look so pretty in that cage. pretty enough to eat. pretty enough to take away. pretty enough to poison, because he thinks maybe this is the only way to make himself feel better.

he wants to see your blood run just as black as his own. misery loves company, they say, and it would please him, the selfish thing that he is, to see you just as ugly inside as he is.

"but you want it," he says, and your eyes flick back to meet his. you don't smile, but your gaze doesn't falter. you just stare back at him, and he laughs again, because he sees something he recognizes there. something inhuman, something a little feral. it is inside you.

and he wants it out.

he stands, leaning over you. you're forced to walk backwards, and he doesn't stop until you're back inside. he closes the balcony door behind him, putting a hand on your chest before forcing you backwards with a firm push. the back of your knees hit the couch, and you squeak as you fall back against it.

you almost think he's going to pounce on you. rip your panties to fabric shreds, spread you wide, and fuck you into the cushions. you think he's going to take from you, because that is what predators do, but you're almost taken back by the sight of him lowering to his knees.

he's kneeling. this behemoth of a thing kneels in front of you, and you yelp with a start when he grips you by the back of your knees and yanks you forward, manhandling you until he has your legs tossed over his shoulders. he grunts as he pushes the shirt up to expose your cotton panties, a soft red pair that you know he will ruin when he's done with you.

your back arches as he buries the front of his mask against your cunt, taking a deep breath through the mask. it's filthy, the way he takes in the scent of you, and if you were sane, you would push him away, the nasty thing he is. but you don't--the gesture floods your insides with need, and you squirm in his grip.

"stay still, little rabbit," he says, but it's a demand. he moves one hand further up your thighs, and you whimper softly when his thumb squishes the slit of you through your panties. his eyes brighten when he notices the fabric darkening as soon as he does this, a growing wet spot dampening your underwear. "look at 'er...drippin'...you hungry, luv?"

"uh...ngghhh..."

"oh, fer fuck's sake, haven't even got m'mouth on ya, and y'can't speak already?"

he laughs, because he is mean, because he is a thing that just wants and takes, and what he wants is between your thighs, and you are easy. you want to be more of a challenge; you want to make him work for it, but his eyes flicker up to meet your own, and there is nothing you can do. there is something said whenever your eyes are on each other--you have no idea what it is, but it tames him, and it keeps you.

"he woulda loved you," he says suddenly. you frown, opening your mouth to say something, to ask who he is, but his index finger pulls your panties aside, and he buries his masked face into the wet seam of your pretty pussy.

you cry out at the feeling, your thighs closing around his head instinctively. your back bows even further, a taut, imaginary string being pulled inside of you, and ghost laughs again, because you're so warm and cute and needy. he pushes his face further into you, nuzzling his nose into the place where he knows your clit is, and he draws the most delicious moans out of you. he smiles under the mask when one of your shaking hands grips the back of his head, pushing him deeper, his mask soaking with the slick of you.

he continues the torture for a time unknown. your brain isn't working; you have no concept of time. all you can think about is the way your legs shake and the grip your hands have on the back of his head as you grind your hips up into him. your eyes flutter open and closed, and you push your shirt up a little so he can see your nipples harden with how much everything aches for him.

it feels so good. he grunts, and then a low groan leaves him when you maneuver his head, shoving his nose up against your clit again and slanting your hips up and into him. you're getting off on this--fucking the front of his mask to feel something, to feel this thing you have been chasing for your entire life.

you saw it in him the first time you met him. the knowing when your eyes met for the first time--whatever it is that you have been chasing for your entire life, it is in him, and you need it.

the thing that poets chase. the rush that a high brings. the missing half of you, the warmth of a love you've never had, the shape of something in your cunt that you know he can fill.

you think you might faint when you feel his tongue finally. you can't see his face; he hides it with a wet mask, but his tongue is inside of you now, and you can't help the crying moans that leave you as he laps at your folds like a thirsty dog. maybe he is thirsty--you can hear the lewd, deep swallowing sounds he makes as he tightens his grip on your thighs and bobs his head in time with your stuttering, pleasure-chasing hips.

he drinks. he drinks you insane. his tongue suckles at your clit, then lets it go with a filthy pop to swirl inside your tightening cunt and eat the pretty bunny he has been thinking about far too much. when he works, before he sleeps, in the shower, in the mirror as he covers the scars of him that he never wants to share anymore. the taste of you is enough to distract him--here, between your thighs, your sweetness in his mouth and your moans filling his ears, he doesn't think about anything else. it's impossible. he has been chasing the void for a long time, and all he had to do was eat a pretty girl to get to it?

he knows it now, has decided it already. your cunt is redemption, and he will lose himself in it to make it reality.

"ghost! please!"

your cries shatter his resolve. he folds you in half as he leans over you now, his hands sliding up your soft stomach before he grips the weight of your breasts in his rough hands and squeezes firmly. you whine, cry, moan, beg--you beg for more, for him to please, please, please--! it feels so good, i want it! i want you, i want it all, i want--i want--what does she want?

me? the thing? what isn't real? because ghost knows that if he gives in, it is over. he signs something away, and he has done this before, and suddenly he is afraid.

when he did this before, he was left something else. he is afraid of what will happen the next time. what will happen to him, what might become of him, because what he is now terrifies his reflection, and he has no idea what it'll do.

"please! please! please!"

but you're crying, and you taste so good. and as he laves into the prettiest pussy he's ever had, the sweetest, he remembers why he is here. he isn't here because he loves you. he isn't here because he cares, he isn't here because it is good.

he is here because whatever he is needs a new host, and you are what it wants. soft, pretty, naïve--you have let it inside, and now he will eat and chew and bite until he sucks something out of you.

maybe the good. maybe blood. but it doesn't matter.

he slides his hands back down, using both thumbs to spread your folds apart, and he pulls back to look at you. you're a sloppy mess, your little hole puckering and pulsing, your clit a throbbing bud that begs him to stop teasing. he looks up at where you're a whimpering, crying thing, tears sliding down your puffy cheeks, and he snarls before he leans down and spits right on your clit, watching it drip into your cunt and swirl between what seeps from you.

"say it."

"nnh...huh?"

"say who you belong to."

when you take a moment to answer, he leans down and licks a fat stripe over your clit, making you sob. you reach down, cupping the underside of his jaw. it's bare, and your soft hands glide over the scarred skin there. it is the first time he doesn't flinch.

"you--you!"

"say it."

"b-belong to you..."

the moonlight is blue when he makes you come. his lips wrap around your clit and suckle soft, and when he knows you're coming, he opens his mouth, hinging a strong jaw so he can swallow what drips from you and take in mouthfuls of it. there is a glare over you, a blue light that shines over your sweaty, shivering body, and ghost nearly bites.

as if the blue eyes he can't keep out of his head, the blue eyes that follow him everywhere he goes, are mocking him for taking the thing he knows he shouldn't have. he's telling him to leave you. that there's still time to let you go. that what he has in his hands, what he has at his mercy, is too soft and too pretty and too gentle to be touched by what he will bring to her doorstep.

you sit up on your elbows, half-lidded, face wet with your tears. ghost almost believes the blue that washes over you, but then his eyes meet yours, and it is over. you're smiling.

this is acceptance. because you know what he is. you know what he does. the gun on him is real. the black in his eyes isn't a trick of the light. the poison spreading in his veins isn't just a sickness, it is a cancer, and this will kill him, and it is contagious.

you cup his face, bringing him up, letting him crowd the space between your legs as he leans over you.

he would care. he wants to care. and when he kisses you, sealing your fate, he remembers, suddenly. the blue moonlight is gone.

and this isn't real.