#the black irises are omega

[coffeeghoulie]

heaven's grief, hell's rain

or 2.5k about Aether's bracelet, Mountain's garden, and Dew's grucifix.

special thank you to @forlorn-crows for helping with the flowers, hope you enjoy <3

title from Just One Yesterday by Fall Out Boy

It's not a decision Aether makes lightly to stay behind. He's tired. He's been working doubles, between serving the band, the papacy, and serving in the infirmary. And, if he's honest, he thinks he's more useful at the Abbey, using his Lucifer-granted gifts to heal. He's always been taking care of his pack, he's good at what he does.

His pack takes it... well enough. Cirrus gracefully takes over his duties, leading the band pack as they get ready for this next tour, taking the two new summons under her wing. She takes his hand, kisses his cheek. Cumulus takes his face in her hands, presses their foreheads together, whispers that she's proud of him. Rain offers him a smile and a handshake, and Swiss kisses him between his horns and draws him into a tight hug. Sunny grins, bright like her namesake, happy someone else from the band pack is staying behind with her.

His mates, on the other hand? He can count on the claws of one hand the number of times he's ever seen Mountain cry. Dew's hands curl into fists, so tight he can smell the blood where his claws pierce his palms.

Dew storms out, the ends of his hair flickering with flame, smoke billowing from his nostrils. He hasn't been this out of control of his element since those first early days, after they knew he was going to survive the transition, barely out of the woods. Mountain follows, his steps uncharacteristically loud. Dew slams the door to his own room shut, and Mountain flees to his greenhouse.

Aether wishes that he could split himself in two, standing there, struck dumb as his mates turn their back on him. He honestly can't blame them. He fidgets with his bracelet, running his fingers along the silver chain, torn between two directions.

He goes to Dew first. Fire is far more volatile than earth, and he was Dew's before Mountain was summoned and joined their pack.

The door, surprisingly, is unlocked. It's dark, curtains drawn tight, and there's a Dew-sized lump underneath the covers. It's dusty in here, Dew spending most of his nights in Aether's oversized bed, big enough for three ghouls.

"Dew? Darling?" Aether breathes, the tension so thick he can almost taste it, the sulfur smoke scent of Dew's distress heavy on his tongue.

Dew sits up, copper eyes shining in the dark. "What are you doing here?"

Aether furrows his brow. "Checking on you, Dewey."

The fire ghoul shakes his head, covering his face with his hands as his shoulders shake. With silent laughter or tears, Aether can't quite tell. "You should have gone to Mount, Aether. I've never seen Juniper that angry."

"Dewey, I'm here," Aether breathes, taking a hesitant step towards the bed. "I'll go to Mounty, but I know you're upset too. Please."

Dew growls under his breath, grumbling as he shifts on the bed. "Don't want to lose you, Aeth," he whispers, pulling the blankets tighter around himself. He clutches the silver grucifix he always wears so tightly his already pale knuckles go white.

"You're not," Aether promises, sitting down next to his mate. He goes to wrap his arm around Dew's waist, but hesitates. "Satanas help me, Dewdrop, you will not lose me."

Dew sniffles, swallowing with a click as he grabs Aether's wrist, starts playing with the silver bracelet. He counts the links like a rosary, rotating the slightly-too-loose jewelry around Aether's wrist, lips moving in a silent prayer. "You promise?" Dew asks, voice small, not tearing his eyes away from the bracelet. Aether doesn't have to pry with his quintessence to know who he's thinking of. He's thinking of them too.

"Cross my heart," Aether says, letting Dew trace his claws along the lines of his palm.

They sit there in silence, Aether pulling Dew carefully against his side, even though the fire ghoul hasn't been fragile in a long time. "Dew," Aether breathes. "I love you so much, you know?"

Dew hums, his broken tail wrapped tight around his own thigh. "I know."

Another long lull of silence. The tension not quite broken. He pulls Dew closer, turns and presses a kiss to the sharp edge of his obsidian horn.

"Go to Mount," Dew breathes after a while. "Junie needs to hear this too."

Aether nods, pressing another kiss to Dew's cheekbone. "I love you, darling. Nothing's gonna change that."

"Love you too," Dew whispers as Aether opens the door. He smiles at his mate, slipping out of his room and heading to the outside door.

It's a long walk down to Mountain's greenhouse, the glass building nestled right at the edge of the forest surrounding the Abbey. The heavy glass door is unlocked, much to Aether's surprise, and he pushes it open slowly, the old hinges creaking as it swings inward.

Mountain doesn't turn to face him when he enters the greenhouse. He plucks the baby spider plants from their vines, moving the seedlings to smaller pots.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, watching the way Mountain's back stiffens. He feels his heart clench as he sees the thorny vines wrapped tight around the base of Mountain's antlers.

"Aether," Mountain says, voice even and bitten back.

"Mount, please," Aether says, taking another step towards his earth ghoul.

"You didn't talk to any of us before making this decision, even though you know it affects all of us," Mountain says, still not turning back to face him. The shears snip, metal on metal, and Aether winces.

"I'm sorry, Mount. I knew-"

"You knew what?" Mountain says, and the worst thing is that there's no anger in his tone. Just cold, still, evenness. "That if we knew that you were gonna stop touring, we'd stay behind too?"

Aether squeezes his eyes shut. They sting in the humid air, or are those just tears? He can't really tell.

"Do you mean to tell me, Aether, that you don't remember what the clergy did to Ifrit when he said no? What they did to Omega, your fucking predecessor? What they did to Zeph?" Mountain's voice cracks, fingers ghosting over a silver striped leaf, the entire vine trembling under his touch.

Aether takes a long breath. The silence is thick, never mind the humidity. "That's why I didn't tell you. I thought that if it were just me, and something happened, even though Papa promised me nothing would happen," Aether stresses, "You two would be safe and away from here. And if I came with, I would crash and burn and they would get rid of me anyways. I'm tired, Mount. I'm sorry."

Mountain turns to face him for the first time, and Aether almost stumbles back a step. Mountain's eyes are red rimmed and puffy, tearstains streaking down into his stubble, lower lip trembling. "Nova," Mountain breathes, so quietly Aether almost thinks he imagines it. "I know you went to Dew first. He'd break if you were gone. If we lost you like we did the rest of our pack. But I need you to know it would break me. I'm your mate too."

Aether can't hold back the keen that he makes when he sees his mate in distress. "They need me in the infirmary, I'm not going anywhere, sweet thing," Aether swears. He starts to twist his bracelet around his wrist, trying to keep himself level. Mountain sets down his shears, tail thrashing behind him, distress rolling off of him in waves like the scent of rotting vegetation.

"You can say that all you want, Aether, but we both know."

"Mountain," Aether says. He runs a hand over his face. "Mount."

"What do you want me to do, nova?" The earth ghoul says, voice wavering like branches in a breeze. "The decision's already been made. You're staying here, while your mates and the rest of our pack leaves. And let's be honest with ourselves. Neither of us know if you'll be here when we come back."

Aether feels something shatter deep in the core of him as he watches Mountain's steady shoulders start to shake. He rushes forward just as Mountain's knees wobble, wrapping his mate up tight in an embrace, guiding his head down into the crook of his neck as he begins to sob.

He rubs his cheek against the velvet coating Mountain's spring antlers, unable to keep his own eyes from watering as he rubs Mountain's back, every muscle tense. For once, he doesn't know what to say. He just holds him, lets him cry.

Eventually, he coaxes Mountain back behind the curtain of hanging vines to his living area, a daybed big enough for the giant and his mates, a small table and chairs tucked next to a basin sink. They sit down on the daybed, their sides pressed flush together. Mountain turns, tucks his face back in the crook of Aether's neck.

"Sweet thing," Aether breathes, praying to the Father Below he can keep his voice level. "What can I do?"

Mountain sniffles, takes a second before he answers, pulling back from Aether's throat. "I miss them, Aeth. I miss them so much."

He's not looking at him, and Aether turns to follow Mountain's line of sight. He's staring almost blankly at the flower garden that blocks off this section of the greenhouse. There's a raised bed underneath one of the rafters, with a dozen hanging baskets that create a curtain of greenery. It's a visual cacophony of colors and shapes, but it's Mountain's pride and joy. Aether knows what this garden means, who each plant represents.

There's hanging baskets of oak-leafed geraniums, dotted with little purple flowers, and ones with fuzzy clusters of edelweiss. Deep purple, almost black irises shoot up from the main bed, petals ruffled and curled at the edges, broken up by bee balm and spider lilies and white and red snapdragons. A trellis of delicate yellow jasmine blossoms stands at the edge of the bed, surrounded by daffodils and catchfly and calla lilies and baby's breath.

But Mountain's eyes are drawn to the hanging cissus discolor vines, the silver striped, deep green leaves. Aether knows exactly who Mountain's thinking of.

"I know, sweet thing," Aether breathes, staring at Mountain's garden. "I miss them too."

Mountain tears his eyes away from Zephyr's plants, snapping to face Aether. "I don't want to miss you, nova," he says, just the slightest growl at the edge of his voice. Aether cups Mountain's cheek, runs his thumb over the prickly, tear-damp stubble there.

"It'll be okay, Mount. I'll be right here with Sunny when you and Dewey come home, promise."

He takes a long, shuddering breath, eyes fluttering shut as he tries to calm himself. "Aether, you and Dew are the only ones of the old pack I have left. Please, nova, you gotta understand."

Aether doesn't respond, just pulls him tight into another tight hug, big hand cradled against the back of his head, guiding his face back to his neck. "I know, Mounty. I know."

They sit there until the sun sinks below the treeline, and eventually, they return to the pack. Aether starts his shifts in the infirmary as his mates start rehearsals with the new ghoul and ghoulette. He has a lot of time to think, intake and discharge paperwork always on his desk, about how best he can soothe his mates with their upcoming departure. He fidgets with his bracelet as he thinks, and he lights up as it hits him. That's it.

He borrows Swiss's utility knife, flipping it open to the needlenose pliers, staring at his bracelet, a little too big for his wrist, how the silver matches the metal of the grucifixes he and his mates wear around their necks.

Aether waits until the night before the pack and Papa are due to leave to act. It takes a little finessing, because while Mountain takes his necklace off when he goes to bed, Dew never stops wearing his, but a little quintosis to put the fire ghoul in a deeper sleep doesn't hurt. He works quickly as his mates grumble in their sleep, subconsciously reacting to the empty space in their bed. Aether sets the necklaces in his nightstand when he's done, muttering under his breath as he struggles to reclasp his bracelet around his wrist one handed, fingers smelling of silver polish and metal.

Once he gets it clasped, he climbs back into bed, holding his mates close as he too sinks into a deep sleep. He's going to miss this, and that's the last thought he has before unconsciousness takes him.

He's woken by Dew scrambling in his arms. "It's- it's not here, I don't- Aeth, Mount, my grucifix-" He paws at his own chest, feeling for something under his oversized shirt that isn't there.

Aether sits up, taking Dew's face in his hands softly as Mountain groans and stretches behind them. "Sorry, love, I took it off while you were asleep. I didn't mean to make you panic, I wanted to do something for you and Mounty before you two head out."

Dew's eyes are still wide, chest heaving as he tries to calm himself down. "Aeth, what do you mean? Where's my grucifix?"

Aether nods, palms up and open as he climbs out from the tangled mess of their limbs. "I have them, they're right here," he says, opening up the drawer of his nightstand, pulling out the two necklaces. Aether sets Mountain's down, turning back to Dew.

"Let me?" Aether asks, avoiding Dew's outstretched hands. Dew takes in a shaking breath, staring up at his mate, and nods. Aether loosens the adjustable cord, slipping it over Dew's head, pulling his sleep-mussed braid through, and sets the freshly-polished grucifix right over his mate's heart.

Dew furrows his brow as Aether pulls away, fingers going to touch the new addition to the necklace; a small ring, plain, unadorned, but the same gleaming silver as the grucifix. "Aeth, is this..."

"Hmm?" Aether asks, grabbing Mountain's and humming as he clasps it around the earth ghoul's neck, his antlers too wide for an adjustable cord like Dew's. He settles the grucifix and a matching ring over his heart as well.

"Your bracelet, nova," Mountain breathes, putting voice to what Dew's unable to.

Aether nods, eyes flickering down to said bracelet. "Thought you might like to have something of mine close to you when you go."

Dew grins, even as his eyes flood with tears, and tackles Aether into a fierce hug. "You're a sappy fucking bastard, Aether," he says, even as his own voice wavers, cheek pressed to Aether's throat.

"Love you too, Dewbug," he says, catching Mountain's equally misty eyes over his shoulder. Mountain has a hand pressed to his chest, pressing the grucifix and ring against his heart. "And I love you, sweet thing."

Mountain grins, standing and wrapping his long arms around both his mates, the three of them soaking in these last moments before inevitably they have to go their separate ways.

Aether's right. Mountain and Dew don't take off their necklaces for a long time, long after they return from tour. They keep that tiny piece of their mate close to them, to where he lives inside of them no matter what happens.

#constantly having feelings trio feelings #did i ignore my wiplist and send this one straight to the top? yeah #anyways #the black irises are omega #the calla lilies are mist #spider lilies are alpha #bee balm is ifrit #aether ghoul #mountain ghoul #dewdrop ghoul #the band ghost #the band ghost fanfiction #dot's writing #aether/mountain/dewdrop #also I wanna see if my Venn diagram of ‘fob songs I’ve titled fics after’ and ‘fob songs I’ve heard live’ will be a circle again lmao

[boundinparchment]

Blasphemous Rumors - V

“Marry me.” He said it with such blasé that you weren’t sure you heard him correctly.  Silence surrounded the two of you and he leaned down and tilted his head, watching you like a specimen under a microscope. “Just for a year.  A marriage of convenience.  Consider it nothing more than a harmless experiment for the sake of curiosity.” Il Dottore/Female reader with established personality.  Slow-ish burn.  Semi-enemies to lovers. On AO3 here. Likes, reblog, and comments appreciated.

You peered out between the crack in the doors at the back of the cathedral.  Every pew was full.  Breakfast, what little you had of it, churned in your stomach.  Your hairpins were too tight and you fought the urge to fix them. 

The front steps were packed to the brim with common folk shivering in their coats and furs, eager to get a glimpse of you despite the bitter cold.  Why would the inside of the church have been any different?

Everyone seemed accounted for.  You had gone through the guest list extensively; it was far too long for your liking.

And it was far too late to back out now.

The high collar and long lace sleeves of your dress were soft, rather than irritating; you were right to have chosen the shop you worked with.  Your final fitting had induced tears, both of lamentation and awe; you only wished you shared such a moment with anyone other than the Tsaritsa.  Who were you to deny an Archon, after all?

She gifted you the veil that now covered your hair and face, as light as freshly fallen snow.  

Part of you wished, hoped, that perhaps you might catch a familiar shape in the crowd.  But as far as you could see, neither of your parents were present.  As expected.  Your father wouldn’t have been in good shape to attend, at any rate.

All that waited for you was a Harbinger, dressed in white, and the Tsaritsa beyond.

You rehearsed this for the past few days with the Omega Segment acting in its master’s place.  The very act did nothing but weigh on your nerves like your boss weighed his mora.  It was infuriating, actually, that Lord Dottore did not deign to show up to his own rehearsal ceremony.  He had that luxury.  You were required to appear.  After all, you had no copies of yourself to delegate tasks to and you were the only one in the ceremony who would do more than just stand and speak.

Typical Harbinger.  Others suffered while they reaped the benefits of their positions.

Running would get you nowhere except a shallow grave.

You agreed to this.  You gave your word.  And such a position would give you plenty of information to pass on.

The music started, the doors opened, and on beat, you began the long trip down the aisle. 

Your grip on your flowers tightened as you went.  The bouquet in your hands was a monstrous thing, flowers practically spilling out of it in an array of irises, cecilias, glaze lilies, and an overabundance of greenery.  The florist had gotten far too overzealous and you wish you hadn’t been so tired during those meetings.  Around you, the church was sparsely decorated except for the long carpet you walked on.  All eyes were, inevitably, be drawn to you.

 Brides were supposed to smile, you reminded yourself.  You hoped your smile only felt tighter than it looked.

Lord Dottore was dressed in mostly white and, naturally, not without that feathery mechanical thing draped over his shoulder like a mink pelt.  His mask was black with blue accents, different than usual mask he shared with Omega.  The tails of his coat were accented with bright blue, matching his waistcoat, and it even looked as though he repurposed the usual dangling tubes into accessories for his suit jacket.  Across his chest, a red sash, not unlike the Tsaritsa’s, denoting his station and affiliation.  A bright and luminous aquamarine gem was nestled into a pin at the base of his throat, floating above a white cravat. 

Despite the upper half of his face being covered, he did a decent job of appearing enamored: a tilt of the head; a charismatic smirk that passed for charming; a shifting of his weight as he fixed his cuffs.  If you didn’t know any better, you might have believed it yourself.

As you approached, you realized his shirt wasn’t black but a deep blue, almost as deep as the midnight sky back home.

You caught the quickest glance at his sharpened teeth when he attempted to match your smile.  It came off more like a snarl as you passed your flowers to an attendant and took Dottore’s awaiting hands.

You shared his sentiments.  Your feet were already aching and the event had barely begun.

The Tsaritsa spoke of a blur of sentiments that, perhaps in any other situation, would have brought you to tears.  Selflessness (impossible for the man before you), a reciprocity of compromise and challenge (only out of necessity to keep your job), sharing in the accomplishments of another (again, impossible for your future husband) were things that, surely, the crowd collected here knew to be absolute bullshit.  Il Dottore, Second of the Fatui Harbingers, was infamous for his ruthlessness, his lack of humanity, unwavering resolution for knowledge at any cost.

Hell, you even severely compromised on traditions that might have added authenticity.  Normal couples celebrated in Snezhnaya for at least two days; a marriage for a high-ranking military official would have warranted far more.  Back home, it was still common to practice the tradition of ransom for the bride but that required your parents and you caught a muttered remark about the cost of your ring.  Betrothal and Crowning were replaced with a simpler ceremony that would not insult the Tsaritsa while remaining true to Dottore's sentiments towards godhood (absolute bullshit, in his opinion). 

He cared little for ritual.  Ritual was nothing more than unsubstantiated nonsense to explain a world instead of looking closely for answers.  So long as everything was legal, it didn't matter to him otherwise.

In exchange, both of you would instead endure a tour of the main city for photographs before the reception.  Pantalone's idea.  Of course.

Would anyone really believe the two of you were serious about this…

The Tsaritsa did though. 

Didn't she?

You tried not to marvel at Lord Dottore's long fingers when he removed his gloves to exchange vows and rings.

His recitation was, of course, perfect.  If he wasn't a scientist, you were certain he might have been a stage actor in another life.  Dottore's touch lingered as he carefully arranged both of your rings and slid them home, ensuring they nested into one another perfectly. 

Compared to your pair of rings, his appeared plain when you slid it on after affirming your vows in return.  Then again, this union meant nothing and his adornments were always more about his rank and their functionality.  An unassuming band of platinum suited him just fine.

Touching him was less a sparking jolt at the sensation of skin on skin and more akin to a burn, as if thawing one's hands in front of a roaring fire after a day in the tundra.

The Tsaritsa spoke again, giving closing remarks.  You wanted to pull away already but there was little choice in the matter.  Dottore's fingertips were curled into yours, the smallest amount of contact you could get away with already, and it wouldn't take much for him to decide that you weren't playing along.

"…your union will be sealed with a kiss."

Lord Dottore's shoulders squared instantly and you felt the tension run into his fingers, now feeling more like curled claws.  Fuck.  Of all things you had discussed…practiced, even (you stepped on his feet more times than you cared to consider and yet still had your feet).  Had both of you truly forgotten…

The longer neither of you moved, the worse this was going to be.  You felt expectant gazes and heard a soft wave of whispers.  Convincing.  This needed to appear true—

You let go of Dottore's hands and you were thankful that he took the cue to lift the edge of your veil.  Disappointment sunk in your stomach as he kept his head as level as possible, preventing you from sneaking a look up his mask.  You stepped forward to close the distance, cupping his cheek with your left hand before you tilted your head to the side and pressed your lips to his.  Fluid, smooth, natural.

That was your role, you reminded yourself.  It would take both of you to make this work.

His lips were soft, as warm as his hands (warmer, perhaps, you considered).  As human as any other person you kissed before.  You pulled away, catching a glimpse of his ears turning pink, before he ducked down and captured your lips again, finally back on track. 

He turned his head to break the kiss but didn't pull away immediately.

"Quite efficient, Accountant," Lord Dottore whispered.

His words tickled your neck and threatened to send a shiver down your spine.

The closest you would never get to gratitude.

Touring the city was excruciating.  In-between trying to put names to faces and track who was speaking to whom, you waved and smiled from the carriage window, thankful the gray clouds were holding off their inevitable snowfall.  Every stop meant a photo, meant standing too close to your husband, all the while hoping you came off as shy and dutiful rather than stiff and uncomfortable. 

The schedule left little time for breaks.  You managed to nurse a glass of water, fix your makeup, and gather your remaining strength as an attendant bustled your dress before you entered the Palace Ballroom, arm in arm with the Harbinger.

If your husband was a different person, you would have pushed back on his insistence to get the first dance out of the way as soon as you were in the room.  But you agreed with him and it was better to get it over with.

As rehearsed, you took your position, thankful all the while he had slid his gloves back on as soon as you were in the carriage hours ago.  Bad enough you had to be essentially pressed up against him for this.  You would rather eat glass than touch him again, especially if he was going to feel warmer than he truly was.

He smelled more pleasant than you usually experienced.  The lack of viscera and disinfectant helped.  This close, closer than you had been all day as he led exactly on beat, you caught hints of musk, along with sandalwood, mint. 

Dottore pulled you flush against him after spinning you out, angling his head towards the crook of your neck.

"Relax your shoulders," he muttered.  "You're resisting the rhythm and making this harder than necessary.  All that convincing work earlier can be undone quite easily, Accountant."

"Is that a threat, my lord?" you teased, passing off a playful smile.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth but it didn't stay long.  He was quiet in the carriage, professional.  Other than his vows, he barely said a word to you all day.

"For once, not from me."

You schooled your face, instead resting your chin on his shoulder as the mantle's feathers brushed against your cheek.  It was much softer than you expected.

What had you missed?  Other than perhaps appearing, as any person might, a little weary during the tour, you had been nothing but polite and warm during any interactions with guests. 

"Even one as erudite as myself knows to move with the music and the flow of the event.  Stop thinking, Accountant."

You tried to ignore the slight squeeze of his arm around you; it was a little too tight to be assuring.  Focusing on the music, a song you could hum in your sleep by now, you tried to relax your shoulders and hips and follow through with the sway of each step.  The song ended; its final note was cut short by the sharp sound of knives on glass.  You fought a grimace, realizing your guests were goading you to kiss again.

This time, the Harbinger was quicker, stealing your lips as soon as you lifted your head from his shoulder.

"Better," Dottore whispered as he pulled away.  "By the end of this, you might even fool yourself."

You threw him the same smile and demure look as you did in the jewelry store and fixed his cravat to stifle the urge to punch him.

"Are you sure I won't fool you, Lord Harbinger?"

"I'd like to see you try."

The socializing took the longest.  The Harbingers themselves, although never without a quip to throw, were civil enough.  You led most of the conversations once the two of you reached the tables of dignitaries and nobles, Dottore falling back to either have more in-depth discussions or to observe, as he often did.  Eventually, it was just you when he muttered something about getting air and you were determined to get greetings and gratitude off your plate before dinner.

Your head swam as you recalled every single face, every name, every seating arrangement.  It wasn't that different from data, from account numbers, balances.  No one would call you an extrovert by any means but the only thing keeping you going was the very knowledge that Dottore was not going to do it.  Such things were not worth his time.  Without his Segments in normal situations, he was protective of his time; now, it was your turn to fill in the gaps.

It took everything in you not to roll your eyes at yourself.  Your duty was to the people of Snezhnaya and beyond.  Your duty was your family.  This marriage was a means to an end.  You only played your part because if you didn't, the consequences were far, far worse than you wanted to consider. 

You were partway through the final table when you felt a hand on your elbow and you saw everyone at the table straighten considerably, as if they were puppets ready to perform.  Instead of any kind of introduction or pleasantry, however, Dottore turned his attention to you, his hold gentle.

"Dorogáya moya, come eat before your plate gets cold."

You felt your face flush at the use of the term, both at the familiarity and the double meaning.  Over the last few weeks, you learned that he was not a native to Sneznhaya, as you were, but he spoke the language so fluently one would never know.

With a smile, you let yourself be taken to the head table, where the first course of many sat waiting for you.  Your stomach grumbled at the sight of food.  You'd been hungry since before the ceremony.  Now that you looked, you noticed that the wait staff were well into bringing out dishes, carrying trays over their shoulder.

Funny that he would come find you when he left you alone to tackle the ridiculous social obligations of his station.  Then again, Lord Dottore couldn't exactly have you fainting at your own wedding. 

"So, I'm expensive, am I?" you asked, glancing through your peripheral at him as you took a long sip of water.

You half-entertained wine earlier but you needed your faculties and wits about you.  Water was best.

"If time was a currency, yes," Dottore turned his head to you, fork and knife still poised on the plate.  "Surely you can quantify how much of my time could be better spent on almost anything else."

"And surely you know how easily anyone could read into a Harbinger calling his new wife expensive as establishing an amazing matrimonial foundation."

Dottore tilted his head and raised a shoulder, a gesture you always took to mean silent acquiescence.  If you could see his eyes, you imagined his eyebrows would be rather expressive as well.

“I never cared for the opinions of others, especially those who never had to try to improve their life, such as most of our guests who were born into their position.  There is little reason for you to be anything beyond polite.  It is those closest who must be fooled, not the rest of the country.”

“All it would take—” you hissed.

“You’re forgetting who you married, Accountant.” Dottore gave you what anyone else would have called a charming smile. “Unlike you, they fear me.  Now eat.”

He needed you to cooperate but if he thought he was going to spend the next year commanding you around...arrogant, self-important, manipulative ass…

You kept your face neutral as you lifted a utensil, pushing away the thought of driving your fork into his leg.  It was the least he deserved. 

Flavor exploded in your mouth as you took a bite to eat.  Any other time, you might have reacted beyond simply reaching for another forkful from your plate.  The finest thing you tasted in months, years, and just like everything else, it was wasted on this moment.  A moment you would never get back. 

Funny how right he was.

Food helped.  Each of you played the part of doting newlywed, dancing, smiling, laughing.  You only ever heard Lord Dottore chuckle but never outright laugh.  It was almost sweet, how genuine the sound was.  Did he even realize it, you wondered, when the mask slipped and for a moment he appeared almost human?

Of course he did.  Nothing would ever get passed him.

Except you.

If you made it out of this alive.

It was no secret that a Harbinger's station meant a certain quality of life.  Estates of their own, entire wings within the Palace for work and for leisure.  After all, the Cryo Archon only had her Harbingers to dote on, who else would make use of the space, you often wondered.  Staff were well-compensated and taken care of but the stark contrast between your dormitory and living spaces compared to the soaring ceilings and marble pillars and gilded frames turned what little food you managed to keep down.

You weren't in charge of auditing the annual operating budget (that was exclusively for the Ninth himself) but you could estimate.  More than what you would make in your lifetime thirty times over, probably.

The walk from the ballroom to the far reaches of the Palace was shared in silence.  Exhaustion was woven into the very layers of your gown and by now face-planting into the bed, makeup and all, sounded like a wonderful idea.  After all, it was not as if anything about this arrangement was normal and Lord Dottore himself expected nothing, he had been quite clear about that from the beginning.

He was impossible to read right now, even for you.  Mouth in a flat line, shoulders back, arms behind him as he walked as if he were simply out for a stroll.  Without the context of a common discussion topic, mostly regarding his funding, you couldn't tell if he was simply bored, exhausted, or annoyed.  All three in a stormy cocktail seemed likely. 

The rooms themselves were as lavish as the rest of the Palace.  Opulent furniture that was dusted but never used filled the sitting room that you walked into, the walls lined with filled bookshelves.  Floor to ceiling windows revealed the usual white landscape and the mountains beyond while projecting your reflection back at you from the illumination of a nearby lamp.  Your bag, the singular container of all of your packed belongings sat on a sofa, as if discarded hastily.

Through a set of double-doors was a second private sitting room and the bedroom, as large as half of your entire dormitory floor.  Dark wood, flowing lines, clearly hand-crafted rather than assembled on a factory line.  Too many pillows on the bed. 

Did he even sleep?

The only details the space was even occupied were the books piled haphazardly on a coffee table, on a bureau, scraps of paper and blueprints scattered but clearly organized in a way that made sense to someone.  A coat strewn across a couch arm.  Mechanical parts and a small set of tools on a table where one might ordinarily hold a private dinner party.

You caught sight of a large closet and beyond it, a washroom, each room with their own set of double-doors to close the space off.  For a man as arrogant as Il Dottore, perhaps even vain (after all, who made clones of themselves if they weren't?), you expected far more clothes and shoes.  His budgets rarely, if ever, accounted for clothing unless it was for a specific occasion but that didn't mean much.  And you doubted he would have made room for your pitiful amount of belongings.

On one side of the closet was a large three-way mirror, the kind you dealt with at the seamstress, complete with a platform.  Obnoxious.  This felt out of place compared to the amount of space in the closet itself.  Unless, of course, he did his own tailoring or a Segment did.  Would explain the lack of receipts and mentions of it for his budget reviews.

You locked eyes with your own reflection and saw where your make-up was thinning, how your hair had finally succumbed to the weight of the product in it.  No matter how hard you tried to keep your eyes open, they seemed to have minds of their own; you were beyond tired at this point.

And the dress was finally taking its toll.  The lace was scratchy and the corset was digging into you.  Without thinking, you finagled your feet and removed your heels without bending over.  You closed your eyes, instantly relieved at the sensation of your heels sinking into the carpet.  The pain was still there but it nice to be on even ground again.

Your eyes snapped open when you felt slight tugging on the buttons of your dress and it took everything in you now to jump, nerves frayed and split.  Dottore looked up from behind you, mask still in place, and you could only presume he was making eye contact.  Harder to determine without facing him.

"Don't tell me you expected to reach every single button yourself, Accountant," he sneered.

"More like I didn't think you would help.  Not without prodding."

Dottore scoffed as he undid the buttons running the length of the dress and loosened the back stays of your corset.  He tugged slightly at your dress' sleeve but not enough to reveal your shoulders.  Never once did you feel the brush of his gloved hands on your skin. 

Dottore stepped back when he finished, your gaze remaining fixed on his mask.

"Polite for a man who stepped foot into my office covered in blood on more than one occasion," you remarked.

You were graced with the wide, vicious smile you knew so well, sharpened teeth gleaming.

"Go wash up, you smell like you wandered through a florist's nightmare."

He nodded his head in the direction of the bath but made no attempt to leave the dressing room.  You held back a grimace as a sound of disgust escaped your lips.

"You have such a charming demeanor, Lord Harbinger."

You gathered up your dress and entered the bathroom before he could remark further, shutting the doors behind you with the resounding clicks of the latch and lock.

The bathroom was tiled and just as ornate as the rest of the rooms: a large vanity with more counterspace than you ever saw in the dorms; a water closet for the toilet; a standalone shower; a tub that stood on its own feet and looked as if it was intended for at least two people, maybe more.  You were beginning to think there was no in-between in the Palace; either everything was utilitarian and functional or overly-decorative and wasteful of resources. 

Here too, you could only see a smattering of personal effects.  Signs the room was occupied but not necessarily used.  Curiously, you picked up a bottle and read the label once, twice, and then again, realizing it was actually some kind of acid and not a mouth rinse solution.  Whoever brought your things over from your dorm had at least been insightful enough to unpack your toiletries and you were thankful you would not risk burning off your scalp to wash your hair.

Just as you were rummaging around for your things, you noticed a bundle wrapped in soft tissue on a chair near the door.  Weird.  Was this for you?

You removed the rest of your jewelry and tugged gently on the lace sleeves, the upper body of the dress coming free without further resistance.  You stepped out of the dress, arranging the pile of tulle and lace neatly nearby before turning your attention back to the small package.

Gently, you pulled apart the paper.  From the pile of cloth, you plucked the top piece and held it up, frowning.  It left little to the imagination.  Same for the other half.  On the bottom was, you presumed, what was meant to be worn over the lingerie, made of the same fabric with a small bow on the back and ruffles on the hems.

To the credit of whoever put it there, it was very fine material.  The kind that was befitting of your newly acquired station.  Lace this soft and sheer was painstaking to make and couldn't be machine-replicated. 

There was no note in the packaging.

Lord Dottore held no expectations, you reminded yourself.  Had a servant put this here?  If so, on whose behalf?

You put the lace back down and ran the shower, adjusting the water as you ran through scenarios in your mind.

Was Dottore testing you?  Could he have only said such a thing to get you to agree?  If he'd changed his mind, it would have been more prudent to tell you.  On the other hand, telling you would allow you to prepare and he wasn't in the habit of allowing anyone, subject or not, to have time to skew results.  Plausible enough.

Or perhaps Pantalone, in his ever-insistent and nosy nature, had this planted here?  Considering the state of your ring situation, this was also viable.  He wasn't above planting evidence, arranging scenarios so they worked in his favor without fail.  From Lord Pantalone's perspective, Dottore acquiring a wife so soon after their deal was struck would have been immediately suspicious and potentially short-sighted, subject to various tests of his own...

Maybe it was neither and a servant or even a Segment thought the notion would be funny.

But it was too expensive for that.  No one paid that much mora on something without a purpose…or at least, most people didn't.  Your boss was, as always, the worst exception.

You stepped into the shower, ridding yourself of your makeup and perfume and the rest of the day's trappings.

As you stepped out of the shower, feeling at least a little more human, your stomach sank.

In your frustration with Dottore, you never grabbed a change of clothes. 

Because your bag was in the sitting room.

Your heart squeezed as you lamented your poor planning.  Really?  At this rate, you would be found out.  How the hell could you possibly think this was going to work when you didn't even grab your things and put them in the closet?

Why hadn't the one responsible for the task done that?  That just made sense!

You could walk out in a towel, go grab your things, and make it even more obvious that you were only doing this because, perhaps, you might get better intel. 

And while Lord Dottore wouldn't care about any of that, was it really necessary to make a show of how much you didn't want to show skin around him?  No. 

He thought well enough of your professionalism.  And part of that would be embracing the role you were supposed to play.  If a servant were to see you not in lingerie as befitting a wedding night, but in drab pajamas…whispers usually spread like wildfire on a good day.

You dried your hair as best you could, freshened up, nestled the lace against your skin.  While you weren't used to the cut of certain things, it wasn't uncomfortable per se.  Altogether, it was quite lovely. 

Another thing wasted on the wretch in the other room.

When you stepped back into the bedroom, you found Lord Dottore laying on the bed, covers pulled back as he scribbled into a book.  Even now, his mask was still present.  His hand stilled and he turned his head to you briefly to acknowledge your presence before he went back to what he was doing.

Steeling yourself, you crossed the room, crawled onto the bed, and straddled him.  He hadn't changed at all, only bothering to remove his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat.  Deftly, you grabbed the book from his hands and tossed it to the floor to force him to look at you.  He was solid and warm beneath you, the same as any other, and you tried not to think of how little separated the two of you, how bare you were under the lace.

Dottore tilted his head, lips pulling into a smirk for a moment before it spreads into a full-toothed grin, his hand reaching for and gripping your thigh.

A leg wrapped around yours and you met the bed quicker than you expected to, soft sheets and a firm mattress under you.  You blinked, Dottore's grinning face above you, never far from reach.  You felt a hand ghost over your side, your breast, your collarbone, before it settled on your neck, caressing your pulse point.  Despite your proximity, you never felt him press against you, not even when he brushed his lips over your cheek, where the faintest scar remained.

"I hardly you know, my dear.  Besides, I already told you that I have no expectations beyond those in public.  Such acts between us are quite unnecessary," he said.

Dottore rubbed his thumb up and down the column of your neck before he angled his head so his lips were near your ear.

"Unless, of course, you're simply needy enough to put yourself in the maw of a wolf so easily for a quick reprieve.  You never struck me as the sort but I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Heat flooded your cheeks at the insinuation but before you could protest, the Harbinger rolled off of you and out of the bed.  He bent down, picked up the book, and made his way to the door to the sitting room.  For a moment, Dottore looked at the leather-bound cover in his hands before he turned his attention back to you.

"There is little need for someone as lovely as you to give more than is asked to a monster such as myself.  We leave at daybreak."

Oh.  Right.  Honeymoon.  He took care of that and you still had no idea where you were even going.

Without another word, the doors shut, leaving you alone in the large bedroom.  Light bled in through the bottom of the doors.  No doubt he would be awake a while longer. 

You clutched at the bedspread, embroidered with silk and stuffed with down.  It gave easily under your hands, as such soft feathers often did, providing nothing substantial to squeeze.  You weren't insulted or even hurt, as many others in your position would have been.  Confused, certainly, but your ego was intact.

Seduction wasn't precisely a skill you practiced.  Numbers told stories in unique variations and patterns and provided more consistency than people.  People were unpredictable.  Il Dottore especially.

You fell asleep, wondering when all of this would come back to bite you.

#fic: blasphemous rumors #dottore #il dottore #dottore x reader #il dottore x reader #female reader #il dottore/female reader #dottore x female reader #marriage of convenience

[boxofbonesfic]

can we get a slight drabble of new hire ari worshiping reader? 😏

nonnies, you’re not the only ones with New Hire on the brain! i hope you all enjoy this little peek behind the curtain 👀

Title: Itch

Pairing: Alpha!Ari Levinson x Naive!Omega!Reader

Summary: You get the feeling you’re needed at home.

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, Alpha!Ari, Smut, Breeding, Dead Dove: Do not eat, MINORS, DNI!, PWP

A/N: i’ve had a few people asking about New Hire. i don’t have a new chapter ready just yet, but i do have this sinful little peek into their daily lives. hope you enjoy!

Your mark itches. 

  The bite is long healed by now, but you feel a sudden heat course through the scar tissue, pins and needles erupting under your skin as you raise a hand to scratch at the raised flesh. It’s enough to surprise you, make you slam hard on your brakes while other cars beep furiously at you. You pull over, swerving into the breakdown lane as you wipe at the cold sweat beading on your forehead.

  Kitten.

  You can feel him in the bond, like a phantom hand on your shoulder. You swipe the back of your hand across your forehead, and wrap your clammy fingers back around the steering wheel and navigate back out into traffic. Ari’s car is in the driveway, and you pull in next to it. Your mark is still flush with heat, prickling uncomfortably as you exit the vehicle. Slowly, you make your way up the steps, fitting your key into the lock. 

  Ari’s scent fills your nostrils as soon as you step over the threshold, pungent and musky. You almost drop your purse as you swallow thickly, fumbling as you try to hang it on one of the many hooks by the door. The air is so thick with the smell of him that you can scarcely make out anything else. Dizzily you drag yourself up the stairs, practically tasting him on the air with every breath you gulp down. 

  You’re barely feeling the bannister under your numb fingertips as you ascend. The frantically beating heart in your chest rises to your throat as you crest the staircase. The heat from your mark is starting to spread, flowing down your arms to tingle in your fingertips. It washes down your back, making you shudder as you stare blearily around. 

  Alpha’s here. Needs me.

  You scratch at the bite mark again. 

  It’s as if there’s a thread in your chest, and it pulls taut with every tentative step toward the bedroom that you take. By the time you reach it, you’re practically drowning in his scent, your pupils wide and dilated. The bedroom door is already open, and you stop short of entering the room as your glassy eyes widen further. 

  Ari’s turned almost completely away from you, the thickly corded muscles of his back bunching and flexing hypnotically as he moves. He doesn’t notice you at first, and remains hunched over the dresser, one hand tensed against the wood as he drags the other down the thickly veined length of his cock. You recognize a pair of your own panties knotted in his fist. He drops his head back as he reaches the base, groaning something that sounds suspiciously like your name. 

  The pieces fall into place with alarming clarity as you run your tongue over your suddenly dry lips. 

  Your mate is in rut. 

  You aren’t prepared for his dark eyes to fall on you as he turns, your breath hitching in your throat. The stormy blue of his irises is almost completely swallowed by black, and you can see sweat beading on his brow and chest. Your face burns with heat, but you are unable to look away from him. A little whimper works it’s way up and out of your tight throat as he speaks. 

  “Kitten.” He doesn’t stop moving, groaning as he presses the thin material of your panties against his throbbing length. “Come.” It isn’t an Alpha command, but you’re already moving clumsily towards him before you have time to register it. Ari yanks you against his heated skin roughly, pressing his face into the side of your throat with a growl. He tosses your panties to the ground before he begins to work at your clothing, tearing the t-shirt up and over your head before tugging at your jeans, snarling. 

  “Off.”

  He grows impatient as you try to wiggle out of the snug denim, snatching you up by the waist and depositing you onto the mattress. He snatches the jeans down your legs, pressing his cheek to the skin of your bare thigh. You whine a little as he mouths at the already sopping mess of your cunt through your panties. 

  “Needed you,” he groans. The sharp points of his canines leave raised trails as he drags them across your sensitive skin. You’re dizzy, drunk on his scent. Your head is spinning as you reach for him, tangling your fingers in his sandy hair as he laps at you. You yelp as he rips your panties off, the ruined elastic snapping sharply against your skin. Ari drinks from you like a man possessed, his curling his arms around your thighs to keep you anchored to the mattress—and to him. 

  You aren’t in heat, but for all the sense in your head at the moment you might as well be. Ari flicks at your clit with his tongue, catching it between his teeth and pulling before releasing it. You keen, thrashing in his grip. Ari doesn’t let up, lashing at your oversensitive clit with his tongue until you wail, thighs trembling as you cum. 

  “Taste sweet,” he mumbles against your folds, and you feel his lips curve against you as you shudder. “So good.” The words are barely out of his mouth before he’s re-attaching his mouth to your sloppy, sticky cunt. 

  “God, Ari,” his name is a breathy plea on your lips, one he responds to by slowly uncurling his arms from around your trembling thighs. His soft lips leave goosebumps in their wake as he works his way up your body. You taste yourself on his lips as he claims your own, his tongue sliding sensually against yours. Ari’s skin is fever hot to the touch, and he shudders with pleasure as you shyly reach between your bodies to graze your fingers against his leaking cock. 

  His breath ghosts across your cheek, and you relish the burn of his stubble as he drags his teeth down your throat, towards your mark. 

  “My perfect little mate,” he murmurs, his voice so low you’re not entirely sure the words were meant for your ears. Your breath hitches when he nips you, catching your skin between his sharp teeth. “Soft and sweet and mine.”  The words end in a growl. Ari runs his tongue across the perfect ring of teeth marks lining your shoulder, and as they slide home like keys into a lock, your pussy clenches hard around nothing. Ari’s hips buck into your hand, and he shudders a little as you run your thumb across the head of his cock. 

  You stare up at him, the room spinning when he pulls away, his lips tinged pink from reaffirming the mark. His cock slides wetly against you and your hips buck without your permission. Ari is gone with rut, his eyes dark and glassy as he pumps his cock in his fist, staring down at you. The base is already thick, his knot half-exposed—a testament to just how far gone he is. 

  His entry drives the breath from your lungs and forces you a few inches up the mattress. You keen, and Ari throws his head back with a groan. He’s already thick, so thick it leaves you aching every time, but with the addition of his knot, you’re choking on air with every thrust. 

  “Needed this,” he repeats, the words almost lost in the bestial growl. You don’t even think he’s talking to you anymore, unaware of the words leaving his lips as he drives into you like a man possessed. “Need you, Kitten,” he rasps. “Need to feel you on my knot, gonna split you open with it—”

  It’s as though you’re drowning, fingernails digging hard into Ari’s back as he ruts into you. The stretch and burn of his knot in your cunt is practically sinful, drawing fresh tears from your eyes as you gasp. You can feel the instincts in your hindbrain pressing up to the surface, the bestial thing residing there crowing with joy as Ari’s cock spears you open over and over again. 

  You cum with a pathetic mewl, arching your hips up toward Ari. He bares his teeth as you tighten around him, your walls milking his cock. There’s no respite for you from the dizzying pleasure, though, as Ari lifts your thigh, pressing your knee to your chest so he can sink in deeper. 

  “My Omega.” Ari snarls possessively, his fingers digging hard into your hip and thigh. “My Omega, my Omega, mine,” he repeats the words deliriously, his eyes locked on the bruised mating mark on your throat. You’re strung out from the pleasure, your limbs shaking and overtaxed, and still you can feel that taut string in your chest pulling tight again as he works you towards your third orgasm of the evening. 

  “A-Ari, Ari I, I can’t,” you whine pathetically. “I can’t cum again—”

  He leans down to drag his lips across yours, tasting the salt of your pleased tears with his tongue. 

  “You can, Kitten,” he rasps, his eyes flashing. “It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s okay—” His thrusts shorten as you wail, your cunt squeezing around him while your eyes roll. Wet, sticky warmth bathes your throbbing and overtaxed cunt, while Ari’s knot swells inside of you, locking him in place as he pants over you, sweaty hair falling across his eyes. 

  He curls over you, dropping to the mattress and taking you with him, rolling onto his back. Slowly, his breath begins to even out, and he releases your hip from the iron grip he’d held it in. You try to move, but Ari bares his teeth in warning before nuzzling against your mark. 

  “Welcome back, Kitten,” he says hoarsely, his hands moving reverently over your back. “I missed you.” 

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans characters #chris evans smut #chris evans imagine #cevans fandom #cevans smut #cevans imagine #ari levinson #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut #ari levinson drabble #ari levinson imagine #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x y/n #alpha!ari levinson x you #alpha!ari levinson #alpha!ari levinson x omega!reader #alpha!ari #alpha!ari x omega!reader #a/b/o dynamics #alpha/beta/omega au #a/b/o au #new hire fic #boxofbonesfic

[deep-fried-egg]

I need you for the oxytocin

This fic includes: g!p, a/b/o, alpha! Billie, Omega! R, r was a little hesitant at first, cockwarming, rut/heat cycles

SMUT BELOW THE CUT

Sometimes being the assistant of a big musician has it's perks! for one you get to meet a famous person and two... you might be able to help them through a very poorly timed rut.

That's actually what happened tonight. I'm pretty nervous since I'll be helping out the most beautiful woman I have ever met. she's got light blue eyes with a darker shade of blue around the edges of her irises. also she recently dyed the roots of her hair bright red! it looks amazing on her.

I can't stop thinking about her either. She is so beautiful and so talented. I'm so lucky to be allowed to be her assistant!

I had to stop her from going out on stage though. I mean she was going to go into rut SOON. I could smell it on her. and she had an extremely long set! I didn't want her to go into rut on stage and embarrass herself. plus I'm sure there is tons of omegas in the crowd that would go crazy if they smelled her going into rut. I just couldn't let her go out there.

I couldn't betray her like that! not after all of there years working together . It was too late for me to turn back. I had already made the decision to go up to her and tell her to stop.

"Hey Billie I- what are you doing?" I had definitely come into her dressing room at the worst time possible. she was grinding up against the handheld mic.

I guess she hadn't realized that I had walked in yet, so I waited for her to smell my presence. then when I noticed she did, I took a small step back. hoping to hide behind the door to give her some space to finish.

As soon as I took a step back she spoke up.

"I can feel you staring. quit it and help me out. aren't you supposed to be my assistant?" The alpha's voice had gotten deeper, more seductive, more... sexual.

She eventually decided to ignore me and started to grind down again, But now she was making a lot more noise than before.

I think the audience wanted to hear her, they must've been really excited. but it didn't seem to matter to her anymore.

"Billie!" I yelled, "What do you think you're doing!?" I grabbed her by the shoulder and tried to move her away from the mic. she shrugged me off.

"Do you not want to help me? do you want me to ask someone else to do it?"

"Fuck it." I replied. I wasn't going to lose this opportunity to touch THE Billie Eilish. So I moved closer to her and grabbed the handheld microphone she was holding and set it on the counter the alpha was sitting on right in front of the big mirror Billie had in her dressing room.

I took my other hand and cupped Billie's cheek. the alpha's face lit up even more. her skin was soft and warm. it felt amazing to be touching her like this.

she put one hand on my hip and brought the other down to her black and white shorts and pulled them down and off without hesitation. she then started to touch her hard cock through her boxers, looking away from me so she can pay attention to her throbbing dick.

I watched as she rubbed her hand over her shaft and slowly started to stroke it.

after a few seconds she paused so she could slip her boxers off too. then she turned back to me with those ocean eyes of hers. she still had one of her hands gripping my hip tightly, she needed something to ground her to reality while she was in this rut. or perhaps it was just another form of control. I couldn't tell. all I could tell was that the scent of her arousal was overpowering me, filling every cell of my body. it was like the air was thick with lust, sex, and raw animal instincts. it was intoxicating.

"Y'know what? I want you to cockwarm me. let me sit down in my chair." Billie said and pushed herself off the table towards her chair where she sat. I immediately followed suit. she looked up at me through her eyelashes, trying to read the look on my face. I just stared right back at her with my mouth agape. it was like I couldn't take my eyes off her.

I quickly regained my composure and undressed so I could slip her twitching dick inside of me. she groaned and ran her hands over my now bare hips making me flinch from how cold her rings felt against my skin.

I placed one hand on the back of her head and I wrapped my other arm around her waist pulling her into me and burying my nose in the crook of her neck. I gripped the back of her

Chicago Bulls jersey and inhaled deeply. She had to go on stage in about 30 minutes so things had to speed up. I knew that she would just take her suppressants after this so I need to enjoy this while it lasts.

"Could you do my hair for me? I don't know what style to do." Billie asked, pulling my head from her neck, "I always end up doing something weird."

"Sure." I answered, reaching around her to grab the elastics she had on the desk behind her. It'll be hard to focus with the way her dick is throbbing inside of me. she leaned back on the chair as I began to put her hair into two messy little buns on each side of her head.

Billie sat patiently as I tied them off. it took me a bit longer than usual, mainly because Billies huge dick inside of me was distracting me from the task at hand.

Billie softly trusted her hips up, pushing her dick deeper into me. I stopped tying the buns and slid my hands over her thighs, gently rubbing

she moaned "Oh, oh, I'm getting close baby. you feel good." she purred.

It seems like shes trying to mess me up at this point. does she want her hair to look bad? or is she just enjoying her current predicament?

Billie continued to buck her hips up, trying to make my job even harder for me. she's clearly trying to distract me. Its working.

Suddenly I felt billies knot slide out, pressing right against my pussy as she tried to shove it inside of me. we didn't have enough time to wait for her knot to go down though! I mean we only have 25 minutes until she needs to go onstage and perform. I didn't have enough time to tell her that though. as soon as I opened my mouth to ask her to not knot me she did the one thing I didn't want her to do. she fucking knotted me.

I felt all of her cum filling me up, going straight into my womb.

Is it too late to tell her that I'm not on birth control...?

#eggsub thoughts #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish x y/n #billie eilish x you #billie eilish #celebrity x reader #celebrity #hot celebs #celebs #celebrities #musician x reader #musician #singer #music #omegaverse #omega #alpha #beta #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish smut #billie eilish lyrics #billie eilish oxytocin #oxytocin #oxytocin billie eilish

[wrathofrats]

Adding onto me and @divine-misfortunes delta lore bc we had a conversation that led to this fic and the entire thing destroyed me so I hope it destroys everyone else too

To understand this fic please see this and this, this fic acts as somewhat of a third installment. I’m so proud of this one honestly I’m loving this little series

Pebble visits delta after Terzo dies, omega confronts him afterwards.

Wc: 2k

Rating: teen

Warnings for: hurt no comfort, light descriptions of bodily damage/harm, major character death, implied upcoming character death, complex morality (no one is in the wrong or right), its angst yall and its sad.

Pebble twirls the key in his hands before putting it in the lock. He debates the entire time. Argues with himself through every click of the pins if he should be visiting delta again. He does this everytime, mulls the situation over in his mind until the idea feels like it’s been pureed into mush. Ultimately as the door handle turns, pebble always decides he has to.

Terzo died a couple months ago. Murdered in cold blood while the ghouls were left to fend for themselves as the church scrambled. None of them handled it well, the worst of it leading to pebble barely leaving him room for a month, let alone to make the visit to see delta.

Part of him hopes there won’t be anything there when he opens the door. Hopes that delta succumbed and his suffering is over for his own sake. He was locked in this room ages ago after an attack. Pebble tries not to blame delta for it, his own mind and body are trying to kill him, honestly he doesn’t think he knew any better. But it was for everyone’s safety, they didn’t want to risk it happening again. The other selfish half of him hopes for the worst so he won’t have to hear delta talk about their beloved papa.

Terzo used to make the visit with pebble. Deltas blind and unwavering obedience made Terzo happy, if not feeling ever guilty about what happened to him. He partially blames himself, thought delta has always insisted he shouldn’t.

Their eyes never meet. Terzo can’t stand to see the deathly color of his irises. The visits only last a couple minutes simply to make delta happy even if they end up making the other two wildly uncomfortable. Pebble winces whenever delta asks if he’s allowed to be let out yet, if omega found a solution. He doesn’t notice both of them sharing a knowing look, a solemn expression on their faces.

The sight of delta gets worse as time passes. The color in his eyes eternally fading into a soulless black, parts of his skin unnaturally stretched to cover the bone that juts out, pebble sometimes wonders if it’s even painful to him anymore. If the quintessence that shreds his humanity affects his ability to feel it eat at him or if it’s taken even that away from him also.

“You came back” delta beams, standing from his desk to greet pebble.

A small lamp illuminates the room in a warm yellow hue. It’s the only light he’s given besides the overhead fluorescent bulb that had been wired into the ceiling. There’s no windows for natural sunlight, only bright blinding white like he’s on some kind of display, or the old lamp pebble brought him. Dust particles float through the dingy light, pebble wonders the last time anything has been properly cleaned up there.

“Yeah, sorry, been hectic around the abbey” pebble mumbles into deltas shoulder.

“I thought you had gone and forgotten about me”

It’s a dry attempt at humor but the guilt makes pebbles stomach churn. He knows he hasn’t been back in a while, weeks, a month or more at most.

Pebble doesn’t mean to be away for so long. The weight of being the only ghoul who acts like delta is even still alive is almost too heavy to bear for him sometimes. He doesn’t think he’s even heard Delta's name spoken in months. The rest of the ghouls think he’s dangerous, or too far gone that he’s not worth the time. The burden to make up that energy falls onto pebble, eating him alive.

It’s always long stretches of weeks where he can’t bear to see him, or times where he should probably just bring a pillow and blanket up there since he practically lives in the room.

Neither feel good

“I could never forget about you sea glass” pebble finally says, stepping away from the embrace.

“Sea glass?” Delta gives him a confused look that makes pebbles chest ache.

“Yeah, just a nickname, do you like it?”

He really shouldn’t have expected him to remember, the small shred of hope that delta even remembered that pebble hasn’t seen him in a while soon fizzled out at the reality that delta doesn’t remember most things anymore.

“Its nice” he smiles. “Has papa fallen ill? He hasn’t come to see me in a while”

The question is innocent but it puts daggers in pebbles chest. It makes him feel sick to his stomach. He could avoid the question entirely and hope by the time the topic is changed he will have already forgotten about the passing thought, but he knows that delta will always come back to this question, even if he can avoid it for the time being.

He never told delta what happened. It would absolutely break the last bit of him that’s still in there and he doesn’t know if he can lose what he has left of his friend.

“He did a little bit ago, maybe you just forgot again” pebble mumbles to avoid the situation entirely. It’s always the debate to tell him old stories as if they happened yesterday, and praying he loses himself enough that Terzo would never come up again. He’s honestly not sure he will even remember if he decided to tell him. Doesn’t think either of them deserve the pain to speak of it. It’s not worth it if it will only be temporary.

It’s late when he returns to the ghoul wings. He walks alone in the dark and carries his jacket despite the cold. A static numb feeling from seeing his friend still in his decaying state combated by the wind that feels like needles poking into his skin.

The common room is warm and still lit when he walks in, the smell of artificial cheese making him cringe from his stomach still not being settled.

Omega stands to steer pebble into the kitchen before he can make a beeline for his room. A look of tired worry lighting up a bit when he sees pebble walk in after the long night. It’s bitter sweet, they may not be on good terms but omega still cares about him.

Pebble doesn’t want to admit that he’s starving when omega sets the bowl of Mac and cheese in front of him. Clearly not left from the dinner he missed, no, omega made it afterwards knowing pebble would be back and the steam coming from it only makes a knot form in his throat.

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” omega asks, sitting across from him.

He doesn’t know where to begin with that answer

His instinctual reaction is to get angry, shove the bowl away and spit something along the lines of “well no one else will fucking do anything for him” but the longer he sits with the bitter words they just die, too exhausted to want to fight like he usually would in this situation.

He doesn’t want to blame his mates for not putting themselves through what he does. The horrific scenario of watching your friend be ripped apart at the seams, slowly dying in front of you isn’t something he would wish on anyone. Another part of him just desperately wants someone else to care. Pebble doesn't like to think about it too much because the internal debate gnaws at his heart and makes him resent more than he wants to.

After more than a couple seconds pebble realizes he hasn’t answered omega who is staring at him concerned, and honestly he doesn’t know if he can choke out an excuse without tears.

“Pebble.. I’m worried about you”

“I don’t need to be worried about” pebble bites back, voice pitching as he wrinkles his nose in an attempt to stave off his crying.

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself” omega reasons. He sounds soft, as if trying to soothe the ghoul on the brink of a breakdown in front of him. Hoping the words will bring him back down.

“What else am I supposed to do? Leave him like the rest of you?!” Pebble nearly wails.

Omega expected that kind of answer. Pebbles said it to him more times than he can count. Blaming him for leaving delta and not helping him even after he’s insisted there’s nothing he can do beyond what he has, or blaming him for not visiting even though it makes him sick. He can never come up with an excuse that sounds reasonable to his conscience, no matter how much the words carve into him.

He also blames himself, and maybe a sick part of him just wants to hear pebble berate him to quell the ache in his bones that he’s done something terribly wrong, to hear it from someone else so it’s not just an absent thought he can ignore.

Honestly maybe that’s why he stayed up. He loves pebble, would do anything for the younger ghoul but a part of him feels like he needs to care for pebble to make up for the way everyone abandoned delta. He wants to prove himself, wants the acknowledgement from the ghoul that hates him most that he’s not actually evil.

Omega tries to respond rationally, all things considered.

“He’s not well pebble, what if he did something to you?”

“After what happened he’s not the one i'm worried about omega.” Pebble grits. Fork abandoned on the table, eyes low to dissipate the tears.

Some sick selfish part of pebble latches onto the thought. He almost wishes delta would hurt him so he would have an excuse to stop seeing him without the guilt eating him alive. A motif in his brain of hoping for the worst of his friend partially to end deltas suffering, partially to end his own.

Omega thinks the same in his own awful corner of his mind. Just one incident to prove he’s not a monster and that no one goes up there for a reason. For delta to hurt pebble enough to scare him and have him running back to ask omega to heal him and admit he was wrong.

It’s mostly to help his own guilt, and he knows that.

The words feel like a sticky residue in his mouth as omega tries to conjure a response.

“I didn’t do it pebble. You know that.” He focuses his gaze down, as if even he doesn’t believe the words he’s saying. He didn’t do it, he’s right about that. But it’s hard to not convince himself there was something he could’ve done.

“You dont do a lot of things don’t you?”

“That’s not-“

“I’m going to go to bed. Goodnight omega”

Pebble rushes out of the room without another bite. The tears flow freely down his face with a choked sob while his emotions all flood out at once. Omega doesn’t get up. He sits in the dingy yellow light of the kitchen and watches the dust particles float through it. He wonders when the last time the kitchen has been properly cleaned.

#ohhhh I really hope you guys like this #I’ve been so insanely excited to post it #wrath’s ghost lore #the band ghost #ghost #nameless ghouls #ghost bc #fanfic #wrath writes #delta ghoul #pebble ghoul #omega ghoul

[kingsofeverything]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51661387/chapters/130594462

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by. InsightfulInsomniac

Loved this.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/42772812/chapters/107450907

Black Raspberries and Butterscotch by, MushroomMushroom28

Thus was amazing, wish they had other fics

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52029235/chapters/131576455

Wither & Bloom by. The_Dizzy_Pixie

Love all their works, this is the most recent.

All the love,

Sam<3

thanks, sam!

Desperation Was My Sanctuary by InsightfulInsomniac

As a PhD student and transplant to New York City, Louis is struggling for both money and companionship. His roommate, Zayn, introduces him to a friend who is involved in New York City's sugar bowl. Reluctantly, he signs up for a sugaring app knowing he’s probably the least conventional sugar baby on the market. If he can find a sugar daddy who will pay his bills without asking him to sacrifice his own preferences and boundaries, he might just be willing to earn a bit of extra cash by faking a relationship with a millionaire. At the age of 35, Harry’s spent his entire adult life devoted to his career as a fashion designer. With his label, Eroda, steady and flourishing, he finally has time to settle down. When he reflects on his adult life, he realizes that he’s never been in a relationship and therefore feels behind. Shy and insecure in his inexperience, he turns to a sugaring app to manufacture a “test relationship” on his terms. Turns out, they’re both looking for something unconventional. A smutty, non-traditional strangers-to-lovers story about finding yourself, friendship, safety, sexual discovery, and an unexpected collision with tender, profound love.

Black Raspberries and Butterscotch by MushroomMushroom28

Harry felt tears line his eyes. He’d waited so long for this. So fucking long- Louis slammed into him, nearly knocking them both over. “Hazza,” he whispered, completely out of breath, arms vice-like around Harry’s body. “Lou.” Harry gave in to the tears, letting them fall onto Louis’s shirt. “Lou, I’m here.” “You’re here.” Louis sniffled and pulled back to look at Harry. “You’re really here.” They both broke into blinding smiles. Harry took Louis in, looking almost exactly as he did four years ago, but with just a little more life experience behind his eyes. Those blue irises were as piercing as ever, none of his portraits having ever done him justice. His hair was wild as always, sticking up however it pleased. Harry laughed. It was good to be home. (OR What happens when two best friends, late to present as their secondary genders, finally spend a summer together after four years apart?)

Wither & Bloom by The_Dizzy_Pixie

No one knows that legendary Harry Styles is an omega. The record label, the fans, and even his family have no idea, leading to a very isolated and very lonely life for Harry. He knows it's for the best. Otherwise, he'd never have the career he wanted and he contents himself in the knowledge that he's not the only one. But when Harry injures his voice during a performance, his manager hires a new vocal coach to help put him to rights. Cue Louis Tomlinson, the sweetest, sexiest, kindest alpha in the world, stepped right out of Harry's dizziest daydreams. While Louis tries to figure out why there's something so incredibly un-alpha-like about 'Alpha-King of Pop' Harry Styles, Harry is busy trying to control his omega's undeniable urge to throw himself at the object of his infatuation. Amid an accidental misgendering, getting slick in public, tour bus snuggles with awkward boners, and unprovoked drops, Harry will have to choose whether he wants to keep living a lie for the sake of remaining in the spotlight or if he'll sacrifice everything to be with the man he loves... Assuming Louis ever comes back.

SEND ME YOUR FAVORITE FICS FROM 2023

#to read #28th appreciation

[edenalienbunny]

You are in AlienBunny’s world now!!!

Welcome to the world of me!! One and only AlienBunny called Eden! You don’t know what an alien bunny is? Well I’ll tell ya!! I’m an alien and bunny hybrid silly!! I have horns and scales a long tail and blue skin, I have blacked out eyes too, with sharp irises like a cat! Then my bunny side is my long lopped ears and the fluffy part of my tail where the tails of real bunny’s are!(⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

I am an omega AlienBunny if you wanted to know….

So you know what I look like but you don’t know anything about me! I am 22 years old, I am a Demi-boy, I’m also a femboy, my pronouns are he/him and xe/xim! I am autistic! I have 4 special interests they are anime, video games, omegaverse and BL manga! Please ask me about what my favourite anime and video games are, I’ll give you a hint , my favourite video games are all Japanese! ✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

I like to draw! My favourite things to draw is fanart from my favourite anime and video games, and ocs! I also like drawing myself, AlienBunny! If you want me to draw anything for you, 1 it’ll have to be humanoid, and 2 you’ll have to pay me! Hit me up on Discord or you can message on here i think?

I am making my own comic inspired by manga (along with things like Avatar and Final Fantasy 7). It is called Ae’kna and it has aliens!! It will be uploaded onto GlobalComix and NamiComi!

Other Socials:

Instagram: sunnmoonartt

TikTok: edensunnmoon

BlueSky: edensunnmoon

Also Discord is alien_bunnys_world if you want to connect with me!

#alienkin #otherkin #alien comic #anime #manga #trans femboy #omegaverse #demi boy #trans boy #trans ftm #transmasc #transgender #intro post #introduction #AlienBunny #alienbunny’s world #alien #alien bunny #bunnykin

[jjungkooksthighs]

Duh-🥺🙊🙈😏🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️😆

-anon who asked for coc couple playing tag!

This turned out being longer than I expected....So it's now a drabble!

Pairing: alpha jungkook x omega reader

Genre: smut, fluff and angst, abo/werewolf,  fantasy

Rating: 18+/nsfw

Word Count: 1.2k

The sun’s golden rays trickle under the canopy of the woodland whilst its boughs whisper silently to each other.

It is quiet here. And you, with your pants and uneven breaths, are likely going to be found if you can’t get your breathing under control.

“You can run,” calls your alpha, his voice carried to you by the wind, “but you can’t hide. Not from me, omega.”

Your heart races as his words bound forth to you and you press your back against the rough bark of the tree as if doing so will conceal you from him.

You’d been running for the last half hour without pause after teasing your alpha and daring to say he wouldn’t be able to capture you in the forest even if he tried.

The words had hardly left you before the mischievous gleam in his eyes had shone in the waning sunlight and he did not say another word before his bones began to shift, his form contorting until a four legged creature black as night began to prowl around you.

You’d thought it was funny at first, but there was a challenge in the way he circled you. In the way he kept licking his lips as if he were ready to pounce on you.

“I can hear you, little one,” your alpha taunts, “ You’re tired, aren’t you? Was it too much for you to take being mounted over and over again this morning? Too much exercise for those little lungs of yours?”

You bite down on your tongue to keep from whining, but you can do little to halt the instinctual rubbing of your thighs against each other as the memory of him bending you over the table, the bed and the couch flips through your mind like an erotic picture book.

The crunch of grass beneath feet grows louder as he nears you.

“Come on, my love,” he muses, “Come to me. You know that I always get what I want. And what I want from you when I win,” his tone dips, “is for that mouth of yours to be filled of me while you look at me and think about what happens when nonsense runs loose from those pretty lips of yours.”

You inhale and exhale in attempt to take a breath deep enough to drown out the submission that your aching bones are begging for. It’s almost enough to distract you from the way that slick soon scampers down your thigh.

“Mmm, I can smell you,” his chuckle is dark as the shadow that passes over your form as his nude, muscled figure steps forth from around a tree. “You want me, don’t you? Surrender to me now and I will allow you to fuck yourself after you’ve sucked me dry. Or,” his irises scintillate as he takes another step forward, “don’t. See what happens when you want to try to be defiant, little one, though I’m sure you will like that, too, you absolute masochist.”

You don’t bother trying to cover your bare form from him since the dress you’d worn earlier, much like his own clothes, was a mess of shredded threads you’d both left in your wake when you’d each shifted into your wolfly body.

After all, he has seen all of you many, many times.

He lets his eyes rove up and down your body and devours you under that deliciously hungry gaze and you really can’t help it when your legs brush against one another as if doing so will give you any relief along the apex between your thighs.

“Your silence will not do, omega,” He digs his toes into the earth and then the soils of the forest floor are being sprayed around him like a dark army as his fingers shoot out until they are splayed against the bark of the tree next your head. “Answer me. Be a good girl for me and stop with this naughty nonsense that you know will only get you punished.”

You really try not to get lost in those deep eyes of his. You really do.

But at the edge of them, something prods you. Dares you to rebel.

And you want to find out what waits for you if you tug on the bait he’s dangled before you.

You part your lips so that he can watch while you lift your tongue and drag it slowly along one of your canines before it is swept along the others bordering it. Once it has arced over the sharpest of your teeth, that’s when he groans.

That’s when you know he’s so enraptured with you now that you could use that to distract him and win.

You blink innocently up at him and make a show of running your hands down your neck as you implore, “I just got so parched, alpha… you made me run so fast and I wanted to go to the creek and lap at that warm, wet,” you meekly tug your lower lip under your teeth, “water.”

“To hell with that, omega,” his fingers clamp down into the bark and then its cracking between his fingers, “Stop lying to me. You can lie all you want, but your body is being very fucking honest right now,” his leg burrows between yours and you make a purring sound entirely beyond your control whilst he growls as your slick coats his flesh. “And right now, you want to be pounded. You desire to be ravaged.”

His pupils dilate when you contract your sex while he pushes the thick, corded muscles coiling around his thigh against you.

It takes everything you have not to start rutting atop him.

You trap the moan that wants to release itself from you in your throat, your hands sliding up his sweat-covered chest as you say, “What if I enjoy the sight of you running in desperation after me? What if I like how ruthless you are to get what you want?” You lift your chin in defiance, your hands rising along his shoulders before they settle on his biceps as you whisper, “You want me, alpha? Come and get me.”

With that, you use the leverage you have on his arms to lift yourself up and off him only to plant one of your feet on his stomach and push him. Hard.

Hard enough to land on his backside in a mess of flailing limbs and ligaments.

You don’t look back before you start sprinting for the maze of trees around you. You do not shift this time. He’ll hear the cracks of your bones if you do.

The browns and greens of the forest are but streaks in your vision as you run until the sun has slumbered and the moon has awoken, your much smaller lungs giving out on you once your legs can carry you no more and you collapse on the moss-covered ground.

Before you, a small creek laden with stone brims with crystalline water in a circular pool that is fed from the river up ahead. Greenery surrounds this place in its vines, shrubs and bushes that hide it from the world.

No one knew of its existence. You would be safe here.

Or so you thought.

There’s a deep, dangerous laugh that promises nothing but sin, your skin pebbling at its sound before golden orbs flicker in the dark.

“Looks like you lose, omega,” he emerges from the thicket with inhuman speed and is upon you in an instant. Your hands are both caught in one of his as he slams them down onto the ground, his other pressed against your abdomen so that you can’t squirm away.

Not that you would even do that, though. And he knows it.

"I'll let you get close to finishing for me, but you won't be allowed to cum yet. Not before I put my cock in your mouth and you get me even harder for you," His fingers fall between your legs, his hand cupping your sex as he husks, "And when you think you can't take it anymore, I'll breed you until you can only whine and whimper for me. Until you're begging for me to stop filling you with my pups."

You moan at the thought.

He grins tellingly, “I hope you are prepared for the consequences of your actions, little one,” he lowers his mouth between the valley of your breasts only for a long, hot tongue to lick up and between them and you can’t stop yourself from arching into him as he promises, “Because there won’t be a single creature from here to the ends of the earth that won’t hear you with how many times I am going to fuck you right here."

#coc asks #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bts smut #alpha!jungkook

[feralghxuls]

Vengeance Is His

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Omega/Rain

Tags: Gillplay, Biting, Monstrous Ghouls (briefly), Rain has venomous teef, Consensual but not safe (Due to the venom), Dom Omega, Sub Rain, Whipping, Muzzles, Blood, Mention of consensual non-consent, Mind Chatter, No Negotiation, Pre-Established Boundaries

Words: 5,648

Summary: Omega plays with Rain's gills and pushes his luck. Rain bites him, but he's a brat about it and gets muzzled and his ass whipped for it.

Omega gives him a break, drawing all three fingers back out, skimming slowly along the full length of Rain's gills and listening to the soft, shuddering sigh it pulls from him, before Omega dips them back in, movements steady and gentle. They have to be; he’s walking a very fine line between pleasure and real pain. Rain currently seems to be firmly on the side of pleasure, if the little sounds he’s giving Omega are any indication, or the way his eyes are hooded and a little hazy, his fangs pressing lightly into his bottom lip.

Inspired by @endopyre's art of muzzled Rain and their piece featuring gillplay

I'm going to bite you.

Omega pauses, the tips of his fingers grazing the soft skin of Rain's throat, barely an inch from the edge of his gills, eyes locked on them. He glances to Rain's face, finding him already watching, expression precisely neutral. 

I can make it feel good, if you'll let me, Omega says, the slight flutter of Rain's gills flaring sending a small thrill through him. Three long slits on each side of his neck, resting open for now, the translucent, fragile skin extending over them a little more prominent than usual. The result of his annual elemental recharge; in a day or two, he'll have fully absorbed the extra energy and his gills will return to their normal state, tightly closed unless he needs them. 

Rain lets out a tiny, tense sigh and repeats himself, wariness edging into his voice. I'm going to bite you. And it's not going to be in my control.

A memory flashes through Omega's mind, a different ghoul, a different set of gills, his fingers dipping carefully into them, a soft breath of a moan, and then– 

I know it won't be. Yes or no? he asks, gaze steady on Rain's as his fingertips trace slow, invisible patterns against his skin, resisting the urge to edge closer to his gills. Not yet. Not until he has an answer. Anticipation starts to build hot and heavy in his veins as he watches Rain close his eyes. He could very well say no. Omega would respect that, of course. He'll hide his disappointment; this has been on his mind for months, and his fingers and spine tingle with want. He’s been biding his time, patiently awaiting the summer solstice, for Rain to return from the spring in the mountains, to have his best chance at this. Now it’s here in front of him. But the fact remains that he could still say no. 

He distracts himself from the wait by idly counting the luminescent white-blue freckles dotted across Rain's nose and cheekbones, bright against the soft grey of his face. There are more of them scattered across his skin than usual; the excess of raw elemental energy after a recharge ritual tends to bring hints of a ghoul's true form to their body. For Rain, it's the glowing patterns of his skin, white freckles dusted over his shoulders and across his knuckles and fingers; the lines of white spots twisting down along both sides of his back and the front of his torso; the soft spines that extend from each of his vertebrae and along the undersides of his forearms, extending past his elbows.

His eyes open again, his irises shine a little brighter than before and draw Omega out of his thoughts. Or perhaps it only seems that way after he’d had them closed. Either way, he's immediately drawn in as always, by the deep black of his round pupils, by the luminescent blue, by his long eyelashes, several shades lighter than usual, a dusty pale blue-grey framing his eyes. Beautiful. 

Fine.

Read the rest on Ao3!

#dorito.txt #dorito writes #dorito fics #the band ghost #ghost bc #the band ghost fanfiction #omega ghoul #rain ghoul

[blouisparadise]

Here are some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of August. We really hope you enjoy this list and that you give these fics a lot of love. Happy reading!

1) Baby Blue | Not Rated | 929 words

Louis rides Harry in a baby blue skirt.

2) Office Rendezvous | Not Rated | 1250 words

Louis surprises Harry at work because he knows his partner is stressed, Harry shows him just how grateful he is.

3) Little Things | Not Rated | 1576 words

Louis is very insecure about his body and looks, so Harry shows him just how perfect he really is.

4) Right Tease | Explicit | 1727 words

"Louis buckled himself up, about to make a snooty comment when he was cut off by Zayn's lips against his own. His surprise only lasted so long, baby blues shutting closed and lips parting to let Zayn's tongue in because this was his Alpha how could he not? He pulled away with a hum after a few long seconds, licking his lips and savouring the taste of his mate.

"What was that for huh?" The lil Omega questioned, fingers grazing Zayn's recently shaven jaw before moving to curl a long strand of dark brown hair."

5) Little Black Dress | Not Rated | 1973 words

Based on the song ‘Little Black Dress’ by One Direction

6) Only You Have The Answer To My Problems | Teen & Up | 2356 words

Liam and louis are dating,they can't find louis prostate so they go to Doctor Harry styles for help. Stuff happens.

7) Nebula | Explicit | 2575 words

Louis is alone at home. When he sees a shooting star, he makes a wish for his life to change. What he doesn't expect is the visit of some kind of alien incubus to service him.

8) Stand Still While I Paint a Picture in My Mind (Capture This Moment and Hold It Close) | Mature | 2954 words

Harry gets horny at work and calls his wife, Louis, for some relief.

9) Sun And Summer Wind | Explicit | 3954 words

Note: The main pairing is Louis/Oscar Isaac.

Louis and Oscar, Guatemala, archaeology, and (something like) dancing.

10) It Wouldn't Be Make-Believe | Explicit | 4251 words

It's been a few months since Harry left to focus on his career. Louis misses him every day, but especially tonight. Something is burning inside him, and what happens should come as a surprise, but it just fits them like a glove.

11) Shouldn't Have Said It | Explicit | 4941 words

Louis and Harry fight about something stupid because that’s what they do. And then they make up because that’s also what they do.

12) Can I Bite Your Tongue Like My Bad Habit? | Explicit | 5570 words

The hooters boy Louis fic where its Harrys 21st brithday and he gets cake in more ways than one.

13) In Doses At Night | Explicit | 6019 words

Harry eyes are trained on the slight crevice of Louis’ chest bathed in a purple hue, the darker colour of his nipples peeking out from behind the bralette.

A firm index finger and thumb grasp at his chin, pulling him from the daze, to make eye contact with Louis. Glittery eyeshadow amplifies the dazzling sparkle of the boy’s thin irises and blown pupils that are more prominent with intricately smudged liner. He’s the fuel for every wet dream Harry will have, as well as something to tie him over until their next time.

“Eyes on me,” he commands.

Swallowing, Harry nods as much as he can with his head gripped. The fingers drop from his face to hold both sides of Harry’s neck, Louis then, ironically, stuffs his shining chest in Harry’s face as he moves his legs to straddle the man’s lap.

In the brief moment of contact, Harry’s nose pressing into Louis’ left peck and dragging up towards the column of his throat, he breathes in deeply. Vanilla and cinnamon tingle his nostrils and coat the back of his saliva-filled mouth on the way down to his lungs where it sits above the arousal in his gut.

14) I'll Love You Endlessly | Not Rated | 6136 words

‘How was that darling?’ Harry asks.

‘Wonderful... It was wonderful...” Louis whispers, not seeming to be able to raise his voice more. He leans back in bed, grinning up at Harry.

15) Hold Me Tight | Not Rated | 8530 words

He collects plenty of money, and struts off the stage eventually, walking among his clients, half hoping for someone not too ugly to take him for the night so he can buy that new fur coat he saw the other day.

As he walks among the tables in the shadows, he spots an attractive man in his mid twenties. Short painted nails, a light blue suit that shows enough of his form to see he is strong. He is the guy. Louis circles around a couple more tables, and makes his way over to the man.

16) L'Amour De Ma Vie | General Aufiances | 8829 words

One where they meet at an impromptu ball in Paris during pre valentine’s week and things that happen after that are unplanned but meant to be.

17) Good Panic | Explicit | 14517 words

Louis is an Omega student studying botany at uni. He suffers from a disease trigger by the SFG (Soulmate Finder Gene). This is a disease that makes his scent strong, and alluring to all Alphas, but makes everyone, Alphas and Omegas alike, smell absolutely rancid. Everyone except for his Soulmate.

For three years he has used scent soothers, and neutralizers to keep himself safe. Even though the majority of the population deems him ungrateful of such a “blessing”. Who wouldn’t want to find their Soulmate. Right? No matter what the cost.

18) My Baby Honey | Explicit | 22508 words

The au in which Louis’ got a bad past, trust issues and is cold towards Harry who’s a bit weird but overall a genius.

19) The Kissing Booth | Not Rated | 28557 words

High school student Louis Tomlinson finds himself face-to-face with his long-term crush when he signs up to run a kissing booth at the spring carnival.

What happens when the crush just so happens to be his best friends older brother, Harry Styles.

20) Lust For Life | Explicit | 32708 words

The 1970s au where the pressure of being an aging starlet begins to weigh heavy on Harry's heart before he meets Louis.

21) Wishful Thinking | Explicit | 52627 words

"Well I have no escort with me, Mr.Tomlinson I'm asking you to be my fake date to my parent's ranch." Louis starts laughing at that, he clutches his hips because it's so goddamn funny but then when he realises Harry's not joking he looks up,

"You're not serious are you?"

22) How Many Times Will It Take (To Get This Right) | Explicit | 150303 words

Louis and Harry used to be good friends (and casual fuck buddies), until Harry's music career took off and he left for a world tour. Louis disappeared from his life after that and for the next four years Harry mourns the loss of his friend (and his lover) until fate brings them back together, and Harry's life turns upside down...again.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#bottom louis #top harry #larry #fiic recs #monthly fic recs

[mrxcreepypastamadness]

For: @toxic-and-the-gang

Mario's Madness V2 muses!

Story Mode (Part 2)

1st Muse (New):

Omega

Aliases: Tanooki.EXE

Relatives:

• Ultra M (creator)

• LG (Creation)

• W4R (Creation)

• YOSH (Creation)

Occupation: Minion

Status: Active

Species: Unknown

Gender: Male

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Black

Created by:

• Nintendo (Original Mario)

• Sandi (Creator)

• Marco Antonio (Co-owner)

Appears in:

• Friday Night Funkin': Mario's Madness

Debut:

• Friday Night Funkin': Mario's Madness

About: Omega is an EXE based on Tanooki Mario created by Sandi and co-owned by Marco Antonio. He was created by Ultra M to distract BF. He appears in Act 2 of the song "All-Stars".

2nd Muse (New):

LG

Relatives:

• Omega (Creator)

• W4R (Ally)

• YOSH (Ally)

Occupation: Minion

Species: Unknown

Subspecies: Human

Gender: Male

Eye Color: Black

Hair Color: Black

About: LG is a minor antagonist in All-Stars. He is a minion of Omega, created to distract Boyfriend while Ultra M killed Girlfriend.

3rd Muse (New):

W4R

Relatives:

• Omega (Creator)

• LG (Ally)

• YOSH (Ally)

Occupation: Minion

Species: Unknown

Subspecies: Human

Gender: Male

Eye Color: Black with white irises

Hair Color: Black

About: W4R is a minor antagonist in All-Stars. He is a minion of Omega, created to distract Boyfriend while Ultra M killed Girlfriend.

4th Muse (New):

YOSH

Relatives:

• Omega (Creator)

• LG (Ally)

• W4R (Ally)

Occupation: Minion

Species: Unknown

Subspecies: Yoshi

Gender: Male

Eye Color: Black with white irises

Hair Color Black

About: YOSH is a minor antagonist in All-Stars. He is a minion of Omega, created to distract Boyfriend while Ultra M killed Girlfriend.

#mario's madness #friday night funkin #creepypasta #story mode #mushroom kingdom #all-stars #finale

[bagelwizard]

pen emoji for patch :DD (if u wanna!!)

alright. *takes off weighted hello kitty friendship bracelets and grins* time to stop holding back... >:) -Patch wears (almost) exclusively black and white except for like, minor little decorations such as the bow in her hair.

-She is a funeral director. the silliest of them all. but will also gladly give you oddly specific tips on the 10 most efficient ways to hide a body AAA

-She learned how to make her glowing irises just completely disappear somehow and it consistently freaks everyone out helpp-

-She's constantly watching stuff like those disney princess movies and goes outside and tries to sing to the animals but just ends up scaring them off and getting disappointed because she's TERRIBLE at singing😭😭😭

-Her room is full of toys and dolls that she all made herself (she probably has heartfelt conversations with them and makes them kiss11!!1)

-she puts salt. in her tea. cleo learned this the hard way and had to experience it firsthand and this is why they don't have lunch together anymore. whether or not she does this merely out of spite is currently unknown

-dark mind's takeover ravaged her home and left her pretty much just a homeless feral little kid that survived off of sheer will and dumb luck for years. her allies have kinda shown her how to be normal again (though she's still omega silly) despite still feeling lonely and unwanted inside

-she is very touchy and gives surprisingly strong hugs for such a tiny kid lmao

-a little thing i'm gonna be writing is going to give some more info on her (and her friends!!!) and perhaps give 'em all some character development so do look out for that when i inevitably release it

that's all for this post lmao (but do keep the asks coming if yall want!!11!)

#thanks for the asks as usual #kirby #bagel's silly inbox

[sister-marshmallow]

Life Eternal

Chapter five: Secondo

Cardinal Copia x Original Female Character

News spreads quickly about my attack on the Cardinal. Although some ghouls seemed wary of me at first, they quickly accepted the fact I was remorseful, that I truly had no control of the matter. Dewdrop was the one to convince the rest of Copia’s ghouls that I wasn’t a bad person, that even the Cardinal himself didn’t blame me. He explained how I was when he first met me, explained how they can't really blame me for the way that Lucifer made me.

It’s kind of him to come to my defence, though I do not wish for it. Deep down I wish for punishment, even if I fear it. It is well deserved, I caused harm. I want to see the Cardinal, express how truly sorry I am, see that he is in fact recovered as the others say. I have so much to ask him also, yet Omega has insisted I talk to Secondo first. Apparently he was the leader of the church not long ago, before Terzo, his brother. This man also apparently has a ‘stick up his ass’ if I am to believe Dewdrop. I am not entirely sure of the meaning of this but I assume it to be negative.

The new rule of course is that Omega is to escort me everywhere. Thankfully my death has taken away the need to use the bathroom or this would be a far more awkward arrangement. As with this rule, Omega is now escorting me back down those halls. There is no evidence of what happened merely a day before, no stain on the carpet, not even a scuff to the wall. But I know.

Anxiety builds within my stomach, Omega’s hand placed on the small of my back as we walk. “Are you sure he won’t be really angry with me?” I ask for what must’ve been the thousandth time.

“He can be a bit grumpy, but he’s asked to meet with you for a reason.” He sighs, stopping to face me. Each hand placed onto my shoulders, leaning down so I can look into his vermillion irises. “Just be polite and I will be right outside the door if anything happens.”

A smile tugs to my lips. “Thank you, Omega,” I speak with sincerity, arms reaching out to envelop him in a hug. The man is much larger than I, hands barely managing to connect at his back. He remains stunned for a second, his own arms coming to wrap around my body moments later. A gentle purr comes from his throat, unexpected to the ghoul himself, yet he does not feel entirely embarrassed, just comfortable. We pull away from the embrace, he nods at me once more before he knocks on the oaken door in front of us. An accented ‘enter’ follows a second later. Omega opens the door for me, I walk in cautiously before it is shut behind me.

The man before me is, well, intimidating. Dressed clad in black as many others I have met are. Again his face is painted like a skull, however there is something about the roughness of it, his sour look, the way his eyes bore into me. It sends a shiver up my spine.

“Welcome to my office, young one. And to the church of emeritus.” His voice is dark, it resonates throughout the large room. His accent is similar to the others I have heard, much like Copia’s- Italian? “I apologise that you have awoken during my idiotic brother’s reign instead of mine, but thankfully that allows me time to educate and research you.”

He doesn’t seem angry, no, not at all in fact. “Thank you for choosing to see me sir. I know I have caused a great many troubles so far but I can assure you that thanks to Omega, I will not be a danger to anyone.”

He waves his hand dismissively. “Fret not. It was expected. And at least it was the Cardinal, he did not seem to mind.” Secondo gestures to the chair in front of him, permitting me to sit. It's an expensive chair, well made. Cushy, what I can only assume to be velvet, like that of a lord’s chair. He waits for me to get comfortable, fingers lacing together as he peers at me. “Now, how much have you been told of this church, Avelina?”

“I know very little, Papa. I know you worship the one below, that the ghouls are demons, that your brother Terzo is the leader. But I am afraid that is all I am aware of. I must apologise again for the circumstances that caused this meeting to be, I am deeply regretful of my actions.”

His lips pull to a sharp line, not a frown, not a smile- neutral. “As I said, fret not. You already have better manners than my brother. And after all, I cannot be bitter against someone the Dark One favours.”

My expression softens, relieved. Although his looks may be intimidating, he seems to be at least a reasonable man. “Thank you so much for your forgiveness, Papa.” I look down at my hands, fiddling with them on my lap. “It is not easy to adjust to this new lifestyle. The urges that consume me make it even more difficult.”

“That is understandable. I have studied for many years the legends around vampires, and of you specifically. How you require blood to survive, your skin is pale, how your eyes darken, how you will be unable to touch the light of God.” He rambles but I catch onto the last phrase.

“The light of God?” I question.

“Sunlight. You cannot be caught in it now. It will burn you up like hell fire.” He speaks so nonchalantly. What can he possibly mean that I cannot touch sunlight? Am I restricted now to the night? How can he know this?

“That- that cannot be true.”

“Dare you test it?” He goads devilishly, leaning back in his chair to grasp the curtain behind him. I nod slowly, standing from my chair to approach the window. He pulls the long drapes towards himself just enough for a small ray of sunshine to peak out from the black curtains. Cautiously, I stick out my finger, moving it into the light. At first nothing, just a feeling of warmth. But then suddenly an audible sizzling appears, my finger catching alight like tinder. I pull it away quickly, blowing to put out the flame. My jaw hangs loose as I look at Secondo, his eyes are wide in what looks like excitement.

“I can never go out in the day again…” I finally realise the gravity of this, I can never see the sun again. I can never go for a stroll in the forest and watch how the golden rays are cast through the trees. I settle back down into the chair, watching as my scorched finger heals itself.

“The night shall be your day. What can be done in the day that cannot be done at night?”

“Um-”

“Exactly!” He clicks his fingers. “Our Father in Hell has blessed you with this new life, you shall live it to the fullest, even with its constraints.”

I suppose most having the choice of either being dead or not be able to touch sunlight would choose the latter option. For me, it is something I will learn to accept. Had I the choice of a normal death, with my family, with a soul? I would take that any day. That is not an option now for me, should I choose to die in the sun, I do not know what would happen to me. Would I remain to rot in Hell? Or do soulless beings just cease to exist. I break from my spiral, looking back at Papa. “Is there anything else I should be aware of?”

He closes one eye, thinking for a second. “Not so vital as to bore you with right now, there are far more important matters.” Matters more important than me understanding the basics of my being? “Like educating you properly.” He leans forward, his voice dropping just above a whisper. “Terzo’s knowledge of this church is poor though his love for sin is great. I assume you will not be tempted by this…”

“Tempted by what?”

He almost smiles, a triumphant look in his eyes. “The fact you are so innocent to his inclinations gives me hope.” Although I am unsure of the meaning, seeing Secondo smile fills me with a sort of pride. The same feeling as when you get a baby to sleep that cries for everyone else, when a cat favours you etcetera. “Now, I hope you don’t mind but I am quite interested in studying you. You have quite the story. Would you mind perhaps disclosing how you were able to make a deal with the Olde one?”

And so I tell him my tale. How I found that ancient tome in the church library and it brought me to dream of Him. How I saw the Cardinal within those dreams and accidentally sold my soul. That I wished to die but was brought out of hiding by a figure in black. And eventually how I committed a massacre and was sealed within my coffin.

“Have you had any more of these dreams?” He leans over the desk towards me, eagerly waiting for my reply.

“Yes, only the other night.”

“Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “Your presence is turning out to be much more interesting than anticipated. We must meet again soon. For now,” he turns to his side, picking up a stack of books before dumping them onto the desk, a plume of dust emitting from them as he does so, “please study these texts. They will give you wider context on how we worship Him. I’m sure Omega will assist you with the Latin translations.”

I nod, standing before picking up the books. “Thank you, Papa.” He gets up, opening the door for me, nodding towards Omega who stands outside. Well, at least I now have something to entertain myself.

——

“Ah Cardinal!” Papa beams, flamboyantly waving for the skittish man to take a seat.

“Hello, Papa.” Copia replies, pulling out the chair and sitting down. The last thing he wanted to do today was meet with Terzo. He wished to rest, to catch up on his paperwork but no, Papa must insist on seeing him. He did not even have the courtesy to visit the poor injured Cardinal in his own office, instead making the tired Clergyman walk down the hall to him.

“How are you feeling? I see the wound is healing nicely.” He grins, pointing at Copia’s neck. There isn’t much evidence of what happened yesterday, only two small scars. The healing was quick, extremely quick. Yet the loss of blood has still taken a toll on the old man, he finds himself lethargic and craving some hot coffee.

“Yes Papa, I am uh… feeling much better today.” He replies curtly, wishing for the meeting to be over before it starts.

“It must have been so overwhelming for you,” Terzo begins, “having a beautiful woman all over you. Shame she was a little bitey, eh? Though maybe you enjoy that.”

Classic Terzo, sexualising everything. It cannot be denied that Copia felt excitement from a beautiful woman pinning him against the wall. And especially a girl he had found beautiful for a very, very long time. But Terzo needs to realise that there are more sins than just lust. Copia lets out a deep sigh, his arms folding over his chest. “She didn’t mean any harm. It was all an accident.”

Terzo chuckles, why is the Cardinal so serious all the time. He must spend so long doing paperwork that he doesn’t have time for the joys that being in the church provides. If he wanted he could have a sister every night, yet he chooses to stay in solitude with his rats. “I have to say Cardinal, had I been in your shoes I would’ve bit back. Only fair to give her a little nibble, eh?” He waves his hand jokingly, holding back a snicker when he sees the Cardinals glare. “At least it was a bella ragazza, ah? And you knew her, sì?”

“We were…acquainted in life.”

“You can be my wingman then, ah?”

Copia grits his teeth. “Papa. I don’t think that is appropriate.”

“Oh Cardinal! Don’t be such a prude ah, that's the word, eh? What better way to serve Asmodeus than to pleasure his greatest creation?” Terzo’s white teeth gleam as his smiles.

“She’s not- she's not like that! Times were different back then, very different. I doubt she’d even consider it unless she was married.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure, Cardinal.” He replies in a sing-song voice. “That may have gone out the window when she sold her soul.”

——

These books are long and tedious. However the information inside is very important. Omega sits beside me, chipping in every so often when I get stuck on a word, explaining the deeper meanings of rituals and stories from his life in Hell. We must’ve been here for hours, maybe 3, maybe 10. Time is one thing I have noticed to have no comprehension of. Sure my body gets tired but not in the same way it did in life. Now it is more of an active decision to sleep, to give my mind a break.

I’m so engrossed in the book that I don't notice many of the ghouls walking by and leaving. “Omega, you coming with?” Dewdrop shouts from across the room, standing with his weight shifted so one hip sticks out to the side.

“No, I better not leave her alone.” He replies, not even looking up from the book.

“Whatever, your loss!”

I look up to the ghoul sitting beside me, we are alone now in the den. “Where are they going?”

He lets out a breath, eyes turning to look at mine. “They’re going to the concert. Papa is performing his new album tonight.” He answers, almost bored.

“Concert? Album?” More words I do not understand. Why do these modern times have to be so…modern.

“The Papas, they perform uh music. You know what that is right? Good. They use it to try and get new converts to the church. Whoever are Papa’s ghouls play instruments for him in the band.” So this music is a sort of propaganda, a way of turning the masses to worship Satan. The thought of it does interest me, as does the idea of modern music. I myself did love to sing as I would shear the sheep or water the gardens.

Omega is one of Papa’s ghouls, is he not needed for this performance? “Do you not play in this band?”

“I do,” he sighs, “But I asked another ghoul to sub in for me tonight.”

I frown. “You do not have to stay. The door is locked, I cannot leave. You are Papa’s ghoul, you should be there with them.”

“No…it's much more important to help you with your Latin. I can perform whenever.”

Another few hours go by before my mind aches for rest. We both fall asleep, books still in our laps. When the others arrive back from the concert they laugh at the scene before them, but eventually also join the pile to slumber.

#cardinal copia #cardinal copia x oc #cardinal copia x reader #ghost band x oc #ghost band x reader #papa emeritus iv #terzo #era iii ghouls #era iv ghouls #ghost band

[winterapocalypse]

Winter Apocalypse chapter 36

the Dayne sisters

Beric noticed the necromancy department next to the one where the two of them were, and being dead himself, went to peek. Two women, one adult and one teenager, were discussing some device for stitching bodies together, and a bone saw.

"Now that Jon has returned to the castle…"

"You say he'll notice?"

"No, they're all busy thinking about the game."

They both had hair as black as night and very long. The older one, who turned to look at Beric, must have been a teacher there at Winter Hogwarts. Her skin was white as alabaster and cold as ice, and beneath heavy layers of mascara and black glitter eyeshadow, two dazzling purple irises glittered. Her dress was as purple as her beautiful eyes were translucent against her very white skin, and she smiled at Beric, as if aware that he was coming. The girl next to her, similar to her but with less mystical features, dressed in the Gryffindor uniform and knee-length pleated skirt made of a material similar to her sister's elegant dress, however, seemed more surprised.

"Beric? You are alive!?… huh…?" she grumbled, decidedly confused. Even Beric didn't know what to say.

Was he alive?

The woman was examining him carefully, with every movement she made, and Beric felt more and more embarrassed and pressured. Fortunately, pushing the full cart, Aston intervened.

He placed his strong hand on his shoulder, pulling him closer protectively.

"Prof Ashara Dayne and Allyria, 'morning. Are you preparing to see your brother again?"

Beric remembered all of a sudden. Of course! She was Ashara Dayne, the sister of the great Arthur Dayne, on the InterContinental Quidditch team that would soon come to Winter Hogwarts, and that other one was her younger sister, who she was in her senior year. The two's expressions changed, and if Allyria seemed truly nervous, Ashara bared her teeth beneath her smile covered in dark purple lipstick.

"Miss Royce, what a surprise to see you here. I saw your little brother out and about, I suspected you were there too, keeping an eye on him. Ever since the incident in Runes class the other day, you haven't taken your eyes off him, huh? "

Aston nodded, but Beric could feel the nervousness in her gaze, always hidden under her big glasses, so he saw nothing.

"We'll leave you to your romantic little stroll. Allyria, you won't be jealous, huh?"

Ashara giggled and Allyria just feigned hysterical laughter. "You and Allyria were in a romantic relationship, Beric, several months ago. But then you broke up. Surely you don't remember it, after the bad… hit on the head you took."

Ashara cut it short and said goodbye to the two students because she had to hurry up for her lesson at school, clutching the shopping basket in one hand. Inside were several dismembered body parts.

"She is the necromancy professor of recent years." Aston explained to Beric, this time taking his arm first and dragging him away.

"She definitely knows how you died. In fact, maybe you're actually her experiment." Aston continued in a low voice, speaking close to Beric's ear, which Beric could feel increasingly red with embarrassment and fear.

They went to the checkouts and left Omega Mart, heading towards the pub where they were supposed to meet up with the others. Aston walked in the middle, with one arm around Beric's thin, contracted shoulders and his fist tightly around the wrist of her younger brother Dennis, who was looking forward to getting drunk at the pub, which Aston was allowing him for the first time to visit.

All the other guys from the gang were in the pub.

Sheamus and Cesaro greeted their friend vigorously, leaning on the counter and dressed almost the same, long black coat and dark sunglasses and military trousers, except for Cesaro's sweatshirt and Sheamus' white tank top topped with suspenders.

The Slytherin boys were arguing as usual at their large table at the back of the dive. Dennis freed himself from his sister's grip, heading to the counter together with the two boys who were best friends with his sister, who he had known since he was little.

Aston placed the black crystal ball on the table, next to a bunch of black keys with fiery red reflections in the shape of a snake and a skull of some strange animal inlaid with green gems.

"The present for Emily, from me and Denny and Beric." Aston said, sitting at the table, next to a young, blond Gryffindor with a split and still bloody lower lip, and above all without shoes.

Beric obviously sat down next to her.

"What if Emily joins us now that we're planning her surprise birthday party in a few weeks?" Renly asked, smoothing her midnight-black braid.

Emily's boyfriend, who that day sported a subtle, complex geometric design on her neck and forehead, slightly denied it. "She won't come. Now you start your necromancy lesson with Professor Dayne, she will be busy for a couple of hours."

"Where are Randy and the new one, the Greyjoy?" another blonde haired boy asked, pulling his oddly shaped sunglasses over his head.

Eddie, who was pushing himself back, swinging on the back legs of the chair, began speaking in his heavy Sothoryosi accent. "Strange that they aren't there. Theon would never miss something involving Emily!"

Jeff and his brother, sitting next to each other, shot a death glare in unison at Eddie who had started laughing out loud, followed by everyone else.

But the lack of them was truly strange.

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

#winter apocalypse #aston royce #Beric Dondarrion #dennis royce #sheamus #cesaro hersy #renly baratheon #jeff hardy #eddie guerrero

[oh-three]

Send me headcanons and tell me about your pet for the sleepover asks

Headcanons:

Cobb Vanth has never left Tatooine before.

Din Djarin is touch-starved.

Boba Fett is overly friendly with those he's closest to and randomly bear-hugs them if he's not seen them in a long time. (In the Mandoverse era)

Fives & Wrecker would be chaotic besties.

Young Tech forbiddingly studied a lot of things behind the instructors' backs. The Kaminoans gave up trying to train him out of it.

Omega actually was being trained as a medical assistant to Nala Se, and helped perform many different surgical operations.

Tech also has extensive medical knowledge, having had some extra medical training on top of everything else. (Still, he froze when one of their own was gravely injured for the first time.)

Tech often overextends himself to the point of passing out.

The Bad Batch would visit Cut's family when on leave.

Surface Pau’ans have a naming ritual for their young two-hundred and ten days after birth (six months, they just keep track by the day since full moons don’t work with there being nine of them)

Pau'an features darken with age, becoming more of the gray-white than the pristine white of youth. And their eyes, the irises gradually turn from gray to black.

My pets:

Brandy- the sole dog of the house. She's a cross between a Border Collie and a Black Lab, and almost nine and a half years old. We got her when she was a puppy, one of my mom's friends rescuing her from the home of someone who didn't know how to care for her. (We had another dog named Hardy, he was ten or eleven when he passed in 2020- there was a big change in Brandy's behavior after losing him, because he'd always been here with her)

Clyde- second oldest cat and the one we've had the longest. We got him and his sister from a foster home when they were kittens. She ended up having heart problems and having to be put down before reaching a year of age, and he's doing very well. He's overweight, always has been, but dieting only helps so much. He's twelve, now, and lost a tooth the other week.

Sassy- our oldest cat and the one we've had second longest. She was around three years old when we got her from the shelter, who had got her off of empty land off of the housing areas here. It's taken years to coach the aggressiveness out of her, and she still starts fights with Clyde despite going on thirteen herself.

GrayD- we got him from the same shelter we got Sassy at. Wouldn't stop meowing from the other side of the glass, and my youngest brother decided that's the one we were getting. He has a brother, and we saw him online again last year looking for a new home. Had the same name, coloring and shared GrayD's fur-length (they were kittens when we first saw them). I'm glad it's GrayD that we chose, though, because he has more personality than any other cat I've met. They're turning seven this year.

Rocket- got him from a different shelter, picked out again by my youngest brother. (My other brother picked Sassy out, and I'd picked out Sabrina, who'd passed after less than a year of having her in 2020). His original name was Jansky, and my dad hated it. He's named for his love for running around, and because he does kinda resemble Rocket the Racoon in his facial features. He's the only cat that we haven't declawed, so I still do get scratches by him a bit (he chose me as his favorite person). He's our quietest cat, doesn't meow much- and it's still quite high pitched despite him going on two this year. I carry him around on my shoulder, and he likes to rub his face on the corner of my glasses. My cat bestie.

Top image: Brandy

Bottom image, left to right: GrayD, Clyde (back), Rocket, Sassy

#thanks for the tag #star wars headcanons #personal

[iricathel]

-> A n a t o m y 🧠

Body

The body of a Noctua does not have a great difference as far as a human is concerned, but there are characteristics that distinguish them from both these and other clans: Elongated ears that end in a point (resembling elves) that allow them to easily catch sound waves and resonances with greater distance, even being able to identify the location of the nucleus; claws up to 14 cm long that can be contracted and folded at the whim of the Noctua; foldout wings that allow them to fly whenever they want; strong jaw with two pairs of fangs; and a developed vision. (Most of those features were already discussed in the overview)

In this section we are going to focus more on temperature dispersion due to the importance of the circulation that exists in certain areas. I will put a drawing simulating an infrared filter so that it is easy to understand.

Infrared signals cold colors to areas where body heat is lacking, however, warm colors are used to indicate a proportion of heat in the area:

-> Navy blue: It is a color that indicates an absolute negligence of heat and we can see it in areas such as the fingers and toes, ankles, elbows and the tips of the ears. These are areas where there is no great special use for circulation to reach them, in addition to the fact that the absence of warm temperatures on the fingers allows the Noctuas to work easily in extreme low temperatures.

-> Blue: There is a lack of temperature and it is in the contour of the whole body since again, there is nothing that needs a circulation.

-> Baby Blue: The scarcity is maintained but the temperature is no longer so remarkably cold. The color is distributed along the inner contour of the body and the extremities such as the forearms and calves of the legs. A little blood is distributed in these areas to be able to move them with agility and if there is a threat, the brain sends an increase in heat to be able to react to the danger either to attack or to flee.

-> Green: It already indicates a warm temperature but is still close to cold, you can see more inside the body, face, neck, arms, shoulders and quadriceps. These areas serve as a bridge to bring blood faster to cold areas if needed, in addition to serving as a first layer of warmth to protect vital organs.

-> Yellow: It's already a pretty nice warm balmy temperature. It can be found on the upper back of the head, nose, eyes, and cheeks, as well as surrounding the vital organ area. Its function is to be the second layer of heat to protect the most necessary parts, however, the warmth in the face is to allow its correct functioning such as breathing and eye mobility.

-> Red: The temperature is completely warm. It can be seen on the chest, abdomen and pelvic floor; It works as a third layer of heat but also protects vital organs such as the lungs, heart, stomach, liver, pancreas, intestine, kidneys and bladder.

-> White: It is an arid temperature (hot). Its function is to protect the two essential organs for Noctuas: the heart and the reproductive system.

As for their wings, there is a dredging of yellow, green and baby blue from the back to the tips.

(Thank you Zazu for offering your body)

Eyes

They are very easy to understand, these eyes are like a mix between Tokyo Ghoul and Kakegurui.

It was already mentioned that in the Owl Clan (except for the first members) there are only colored eyes as: Gold, brown, black and green (the latter being only present in the Royal family). But there are also certain individuals who may have a black sclera, or a completely black eye.

There are three phases in the clan: Omega Phase, Beta Phase and Alpha Phase, although there is also a variant that is the Delta Phase.

-> Omega Phase: They are the eyes is their natural state.

-> Beta Phase: The irises take on a green color due to the adrenaline pumping in their blood, whether from euphoria, sadness or anger. They are an indicative of strong dose of emotions.

-> Alpha Phase: The green hue of the iris turns a bright neon, and the pupil constricts to form a narrow diamond. This phase is already an alert of excess adrenaline in the blood, either due to anger or euphoria. In this phase it becomes difficult to manage emotions, even coming close to the total elimination of sanity, since they are no longer in control of their instincts and reactions.

-> Delta Phase: The last phase and the least common in the clan since a high knowledge of magic is needed and complete loss of mind control. It is also called the Primal Phase. The irises remain as the Alpha Phase but this time they have their own green glow that can even be reflected, around the eye, the thin veins injected with adrenaline become noticeable, turning them neon green and depending on the individual, sparks or green smoke/flame may come from the eyes. If it doesn't go back to normal, there's a danger of going blind or dying from overload.

In the clan they call the eyes with black sclera 'Yeti Eyes' while those that are completely black are called 'Nixes'.

The eyes of the Avenel family naturally remain in the Beta Phase as an initial state.

Skull

There is not much to detail here. The two pairs of fangs can be seen in the upper part of the jaw, while in the lower part there is only one pair of canines.

This structure is developed in such a way that the Noctuas are able to: Pierce the flesh to drink the blood; rip flesh, skin and ligaments to be able to devour them; and obviously the molars to be able to chew and grind the food.

The bites are strong, it can have a power of up to 5,000 PSI.

'Side note: The race of the Owl clan will biologically be called Noctuas.

#my art #damn my realistic style only works on the eyes #owl clan lore #owl clan