#'the moon like a spotlight on the lake'
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have you ranked debut yet 🤔💭
NOPE BUT I WILL NOW∼∼∼∼∼∼
im only me when im with you - something about her voice in this song sounds so different to the others on this album,, like its more gravelly if that makes sense?? idk,, anyway i love this song sm
our song - OURSONGISTHESLAMMINSCREENDOOR,, this song is so country LMAOO (i mean the whole album is but like) this song is so soso cutesie and i love her voice when she says 'and you talk real slow / when its late and your mama dont know'
picture to burn - THE BIRTH OF ANGSTY TAYLOR🙏🏽 i miss the 'i'll tell mine youre gay' line
teardrops on my guitar - ok this is just one of those songs that really is the essence of taylor,, i dont know what it is exactly but even the title alone is so her
tied together with a smile - this song is so depressing actually. specially considering that taylor went through the same situation shes singing about here in the 1989 era :( taylors version will actually put me in the grave
shouldve said no - ICONIC,, specially the mashup with this and bad blood on the rep tour
the outside - this song slaps both with the melody and lyrics,, and i read somewhere that SHE WROTE THIS AT 12 YEARS OLD??? that kinda talent so young is insane actually (same goes for this whole album tbh bc she wrote all of these at age 16 and below)
tim mcgraw - when i think tim mcgraw i think of taylor,, and i think thats so cool (and embarrasing for him tbh). also the fact that this is the first song in her entire discography????????so cool,,,,, also i was barely a sentient being when this was released (i was a few months old) but the intro for some reason gives me such a deep feeling of nostalgia, the country twang and the smooth instrumentals ahhhuihafgsduhgfiluafgwuieljs
cold as you - this is literally the country version of tolerate it,, its the perfect song to be her first ever track 5,, the song writing on here is insane
marys song - god tier storytelling as usual, its a modern day classic ANDDDDD ITS VERY JACINTERCORE,, i <3 friends to lovers
invisible - you belong with me (sad girl country version)
a place in this world - this one makes me feel a similar way that long live does, its so cool to listen to thinking about how far she's come in her career since then and she DID in fact find a place in this world (also this one is so relatable even for normies like us bc i AM LITERALLLLY JUST A GIRL TRYING TO FIND A PLACE IN THIS WORLD. FOR REALS😜)
stay beautiful - this ones such a silly fun one i love it but also what does 'cory's eyes are like a jungle' even MEAN LMAOOOOOOOO????????
a perfectly good heart - okayy everyone is a hater of this song but I AM NOT. its not as well written as the other songs on this album i'll admit, BUT its cute n stuff, and i like the bridge vocals when shes like 'its not unbroken anymore / how do i get it back the way it was befooooooore'
anyway in conclusion, anybody who is a ts debut hater is actually wrong and boring !!!!!!!!! this album is such a teen girl light airy album and it reminds me sm of being 15/16 (i know im BARELY out of that age range but whatever,, let me pretend to be mature) and u know what, i dont like country usually but this SLAPS, whenever i put this album on my british accent is gone and for 50 mins 29 seconds, i am an actual cowgirl. boots n all
#shout out to the lyric:#'the moon like a spotlight on the lake'#bea tag#asks#taylor swift#her fake accent on this album actually kills me LMAOOO#like girl ur from pennsylvania
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well when you think Tim McGraw I hope you think my favorite song
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Fishing in the dark | Arthur Morgan / Reader
Word Count : 1.3k (a little guy)
Summary : You and Arthur have a private evening away from camp on the Dakota River.
Warnings/tags : Cursing, unprotected piv, talk of nudity (both male and female), cursing, reader can swim, s3x in the river, established relationship, set in chapter 3
The Dakota River was now your favorite place to be at sunset. The cool breeze coming off the sparkling water, your body cushioned by the bed of grass. The way the setting sun cast a golden light over everything it touched.
Getting away from the gang for a while had been Arthur’s greatest idea yet. After all that mess in Valentine had led you to Clemens point. Sat on the east coast of Flat Iron lake, near the town of Rhodes. Getting eaten alive by mosquitos while the heat of the Scarlett Meadows sun beat down on you.
And although you thought maybe a room in Rhodes would have been a better way to keep each other company, you couldn’t beat this view.
Arthur stood on the shore, fishing pole in hand. His tall silhouette dark against the golden light, his shadow growing longer on the rocks. What a sight, every subtle flick of his wrist, his bicep tensing and he pulled on the pole. You didn’t even know why he was still fishing so late. He had already caught dinner, which you had prepared over a small fire. While along the shore you had picked some burdock root and common bulrush for camp, knowing that Miss Grimshaw could find some use for the plants. At long last the sun fell below the horizon, a sliver of burnt amber spreading across the sky before being enveloped by a dark blue. The moon slowly rose above you. A beautiful yellow spotlight peeking through the trees.
Arthur stood, still as a statue, as though he was carved of marble. A wicked thought entered your head, slowly you moved to unlace your boots. Pulling them off until you could dig your toes into the grassy floor beneath you. Then you untied the strings to your skirt. Letting the fabric fall, along with your shirt. Leaving you standing in only your chemise, and it wasn’t long before that was discarded as well.
Arthur had heard the slight rustling of fabric behind him, but he was honestly too preoccupied with the pole in his hands. Enjoying the quiet serenity of the river. That was until you ran butt ass naked into it.
“Darlin!” He yelled his eyes widening in shock as your laughter joined the sound of water splashing.
“Come on cowboy!” You called submerged to your waist, your breasts above the water for any passersby to see. Maybe it wasn’t your best idea yet, the freezing water chilling your bones.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He chuckled, unfortunately amused by your actions even though he knew he shouldn’t be.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” You called back, teeth chattering by the sudden drop in temperature.
“It looks like you’re giving anyone that passes through a free peep show.” He called his hand resting on his gun belt as he not so casually adjusted himself. You stepped back further into the dark water until only your shoulders and up were visible.
“When did you become such a prude?” You chided a teasing smile on your lips.
“When someone could lay eyes on my woman.” He said laying down his pole, crossing his arms over his chest. You felt a shiver run down your spine, whether it was from his words or the cold water you couldn’t tell.
“Well get in here and claim your woman before someone else does!” You called, a shit eating grin spreading across your face.
Arthur sighed, looking down as the brim of his hat shielded most of his face from you. Your grin only grew as he unbuckled his gun belt, letting it fall to the ground. He pulled his suspenders off his broad shoulders. He shook his head, his own grin growing on his face as he began to pull off his clothes.
“You’re gonna get it girl.” He warned, his eyes taking on a dark haze. His lips pulling back into a smirk, looking down at you like prey. An electric shock of anticipation ran up your body as he finally pulled off the last layer, his cock springing up against his stomach. He stepped forward, wading into the water. “Jesus!” He yelped, a shiver running through him.
“It’s not that bad!” You called with a laugh.
“Not that-“ He shook his head, “Christ I can’t feel my toes.” He muttered swimming over to you, his arm wrapping around you pulling you close. You wrapped your legs around his waist as you held onto his shoulders
“Hey there.” You grin, watching the water droplets run down his face.
“Howdy.” He muses, you place your hands on his chest, feeling his heart beat against your palm.
“Still cold?” You ask sweetly.
“Very.” He chuckles.
“I think I could warm you up.” You say biting your lip.
“Please do.” He says softly as you lean forward. Your nose bumping against his as you stare him down. He leans forward pressing his lips against yours. His tongue swiping along your lower lip as he pressed you down onto his pelvis. Clenching around nothing as his cock bumped against the nub of your clit, a soft moan leaving your throat.
“I can feel that.” You said softly, biting your lip as you looked into his eyes.
“I’m sure you can.” His chest rumbling as he chuckled. He moved his hand from your waist and reached down between your legs. The tip of his length catching against your entrance. “Think you’re wet enough?” He teases, his teeth glinting in the moonlight as he smirks.
You bite back a rebuttal as he slips inside you with ease, he swallows your gasp as his mouth covers yours. Groaning into your mouth, a deep almost primal noise. One that sends pleasure shooting through your body. You whine as he pulls out slightly, only to press your body down onto his pelvis. His cock rubbing against that spot inside you.
He knows this dance like the back of his hand, how to make you tick, more specifically how to make you scream. The hand that’s not holding your hip with a vice like grip moves up your body, his hands splayed against your stomach. Before reaching up to cup your breast, pinching your nipple.
“Arthur.” You gasp, feeling him rut against you, growling against your neck like a wild animal.
“Feel so good darlin’.” He huffs against your neck, nipping and kissing as he continues his attack on your pussy. His cock thrusting deep strokes against your walls. Your body is buzzing, your toes curling as he brings you closer and closer to your peak. He can feel you flutter around him, his lips quirk up. He moves his hand down to between your legs, rubbing your clit.
You cry out, a pitiful noise as you cum around him. Your nails dig into his shoulders, your brows knit together as your jaw hangs open. He smirks, tilting his head back as a low, shit, leaves his mouth.
His hips start to stutter as he pounds into you, trying to reach his orgasm while you’re still working through yours. He’s quick behind you, his hands holding you so close against him you’re sure you’ll have bruises. He thrusts into you one last time, a choked groan rumbling in his chest. You hold onto him as his dick twitches inside of you. Painting your insides with his seed. You smile up at him lazily, watching his face contort in pleasure.
“Shit darlin’.” He huffs, his chest rising and falling rapidly against your own. The bite of the water is no longer a thought as his warm body presses against yours.
“You warm now, cowboy?” You tease brushing your nose against this neck, pressing a kiss over his pulse point.
“Very.” He chuckles, “But I’d like to get my beautiful girl out of these waters now.” He says grabbing a handful of your ass before throwing you over his shoulder. “I ain’t done with you yet.”
#rdr2#arthur morgan smut#arthur morgan#red dead redemption#red dead redemption 2#dutch van der linde#hosea matthews#john marston#arthur morgan x reader#javier escuella#molly o’shea#mary beth gaskill#tilly jackson#lenny summers#sean macguire#karen jones#kieran duffy#pearson#susan grimshaw#abigail roberts#jack marston#abigail marston#hihomeghere
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A Life Time Ago
Looking out into a sea in the middle of night with the moon shining high above is a sight that takes the air you just breathe in. Sitting there in the silence can be so refreshing, even if you miss the hustle and bustle of Fontaine's city at night. Rather than staying with other people, you like the breath of fresh air, but confrontations are not your strong suit.
Staying in the spotlight is something that isn't for you, nor do you think it ever will. The audience is just watching you and your mistakes would shake anyone to the core. Yet, despite that, you yearn for the chance at romance. While you know it isn't wise to love one of your worshipers, it is hard to find love when almost all of Teyvat are your followers.
Sometimes the followers that you had given blessings to, would stay near your house and it made you uncomfortable. You know it is their way of protecting you but it doesn't change the feeling that someone is watching. Their eyes feel like they are following you even if you change your clothes or take a bath and that you can't breathe without thinking you aren't alone.
It is disturbing to say the least, even if you got a chance to cover windows in your room or getting stronger locks so there can be no more break-ins. It feels like you can't go anywhere without feeling safe enough to do so.
Looking back at the first time when you found yourself in the middle of Teyvat, but you didn't realize where you were. Not until you found a landmark in the distance from where you were. The distance made you realize that you were on uncharted territory. Paimon would never let you get there but you know you see the opening for Storm Terror’s Lair just beyond the lake of water before you.
Though, you believed that you should get closer to the landmark and you chose to swim across the waters to see the lair with your own eyes. It was mesmerizing to see with your own eyes, even if it was a bit cold. Though it was different, if you remembered correctly there should have been Fatui standing near the gate. Deciding to use the fire nearby to cook something warm, as it has been a good while since eating something warm.
It was a nice change of pace, even if it was a simple egg, it was better than just eating apples or berries. Yet, you couldn't help but wonder why you were there in the first place. That was the time where everything didn’t make sense, and not a day later were you found by the fatui. It was a mess, you had tried to hide but it didn’t help as the geo mage found you and brought you back to the camp. You were terrified at the possibilities of what can happen, after all the fatui are seen as a hostile and violence group of people.
However, once they found out there was a language barrier and that you were just lost, they invited you to sit near the cooking pot. It was shocking to say the least.
You enjoyed it, they even tried to teach you some words. There wasn’t much they could offer but they made it enjoyable for you and if you could you’d thank them.
However, one day they left on a mission, saying they would be back in three days, but they never came back. Not long after that, you saw the Traveler and Paimon, they were walking towards you. With every step they took and got closer the more panicked you became. In a split second, you raised a fire gun that the pyroslinger gave to you to protect yourself, after all the traveler wouldn’t be here without reason, right?
It’s all hard to take in, but the traveler kept walking towards you without faltering for a second. The gun in your hands stayed in the same place, you couldn’t move. Not without knowing that the traveler is really fast and given the situation, they might think you are part of the fatui. Yet, when they stood in front of you and kneeled on one knee, speaking in a language you barely knew words of.
You remember that they slowly guided you to Mondstadt, you regret letting go of the gun, it was probably the only keepsake you would have of your friends.
Now it is probably still there and rusted, the people watching would never let you get hurt and they would deem the gun useless. They would tell you, it is not important and that with monsters around it was probably damaged.
Everything that happened after that was a blur from the journey from the lair to Mondstadt, you were left conflicted about how the traveler reacted on meeting you. Words kept coming from the travelers mouth but you couldn’t understand and choose to shrug or be silent.
Once you had noticed that Mondstadt was just a bridge away, you froze in fear. Turning around with an intent to run away only for someone to hug you so hard you both feel. You could hear the shouts from Paimon and the traveler moving closer to make sure you were alright. Though what caught your attention was the archon on top of you, “Sorry about that, I hope I didn't hurt you too badly.”
You remember the shock of hearing your own language being spoken to you and the hesitation to respond to the god before you. Though, he was there for a while longer, hugging you, saying that he had missed you while ignoring Paimon’s questions. It was awkward for you to understand what was going on.
Even when Venti released you from his hug, he chose to hold your hand whenever he could, he looked happy. Both he and the traveler lead you to Jean, yet once you were in her office you noticed that Jean was not alone. In her office, Lisa, Kaeya and Amber were having a conversation about something, only to pause when they noticed the 4 of you.
They had different reactions to what the traveler said to them all, before Jean had moved closer to you and to kneel before you saying words that you couldn’t understand. Even turning to Venti didn’t help, all you could do was smile awkwardly and realized that the other knights and librarian were kneeling as well.
Once they stood up they began to speak to each other again, leaving you awkwardly standing there. Though, they had turned to you and words left Kaeya’s mouth. You remember standing in fear, pointing to yourself, clueless. In return, he smiled and nodded. The only words that spilled from your mouth after glancing at Venti was, “I don't know.”
Everyone reacted in shock while Venti stood confused, but in the end they had gotten the point across through drawings. They were asking where you wanted to stay and you chose the house that you thought not many people would be. You highly doubt that the owner of the house would stay for very long, and you heard that he could be gone from the house for days at a time. The red haired man wouldn’t bug you and that seemed like a no brainer.
You had just said his name and they sighed of what you had assumed back then was relief. Kaeya had walked to you and guided you to Angel Share with Venti following in suit.
All you could do was follow behind them and take a seat on the chair, watching as Kaeya and Venti talked to Diluc while he was working. If he was shocked, he didn’t show it and he just nodded.
It was a while before Diluc guided you to his home, while you had expected for him to make you walk there. He carried you on his back and didn’t speak to you, while it was awkward you were tired and ended up falling asleep on his shoulder. When you had awoken it was morning and you were embarrassed at what happened last night. You stay at that house for a long while getting close to the man and his head maid taught you the language.
You have been through so much, yet even with it all happened. Staying out in the open with the stars staring back at you is where you feel most peaceful.
#genshin impact#nihil.writes <3#sagau#genshin impact sagau#genshin sagau#self aware genshin#sagau cult au#x reader#sagau x reader
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જ⁀ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓 are you to 𝐌𝐄 ?
To Blade, you were the sun stretching over a vibrant pasture of may flowers that broke like the golden yolk of an egg.
To Blade, you were the twirling winds of summertime as your smile emulated the very warmth of the sun and a dash of charming playfulness which never once failed to lighten the strain of burdens. Naturally flowing away like a stream of water or a feather in the wind.
To Blade, your patience was as steadfast and serene as a lake in still waters, the moon dancing overhead while you planted stars on his scars through tender kisses he did not deserve. Boundless and ever so infinite like your soul.
To Blade, you were both an instrument and it’s player: a sweet melody that echoed in his ears every daunting moment when the whispers of the past clouded his mind. Spotlight gracing your skin as the tunes of a forgotten tenderness swirled up into the air like the steam of tea rising from a cup. Thus, no matter his efforts or restraint, Blade kept finding himself at your front door, and thus, in your arms. Time and time again.
To Blade, each step you graced the ground with brought forth life: a child’s laughter, an old woman’s smile, the scent of honeysuckles. That was all your doing.
And Blade, was forever a shadow of destruction that was doomed to a life as devoid and blank as a starless night. Nevertheless, you were the stars. You littered yourself in his life; setting a subtle twinkle in the abyssal night of his being despite his lifeless form.
You were made of cosmic dust, maple wood and all the collective dreams of the universe. And Blade, who was undone bit by bit, followed you like a shadow looming behind in longing.
It had been so long since another soul touched him without underlying motives. He feared that.
Why did you harbour him in your house absent of fear? Why did your persistence invoke warm sensations? Why did your eyes unfailingly meet his?
Blade was keen on understanding you, yet, he gradually realized there was simply nothing to understand. Truth rolled of your tongue with ease and as for Blade, it got stuck in his throat, dying off. Yes, you were far from perfect, nevertheless, you carried yourself despite every thorn pricking your skin. Carving your way through each cavern; leaving subtle traces of discovery for him to follow.
The feeling swelled in his chest like a disease— and it terrified him. And yet, he could not put a name to it. A name to how his eyes lingered a touch longer than they should or how you rubbed his back. (And for the first time, he did not flinch at your touch or grab you by the arm.)
Thus, when the Astral Express offered you the chance to become a passenger, Blade clenched his fist and held his breath.
It was no wonder they asked you. After all, you were the polar opposite of what a Stellaron Hunter should be. You were amiable, mindful, calm, merciful yet seemingly lighthearted like a child.
Blade told himself that he dared not involve himself. You were a person of your own free will. Thus, you would deal with the consequences. There was no regard for him.
Nevertheless, the urge to tear you away from the conversation thrummed through his vile veins.
However, your reply would be forever ingrained in his sullen memory for the rest of eternity.
"I am honoured that you would consider me Mr. Yang," you articulate kindly, a smile reaching your lips, "But, I'm afraid I must decline."
"Oh? How so?"
You emit a silky chuckle, "If you asked me three years ago, I would have readily agreed," you pause then continue with vibrant eyes, "But, there are people I care for with my own life. It would be my biggest regret to leave them."
Until Blade can learn to fathom the extent of his own emotions, he will continue to linger beside you like a phantom or a shadow. Subconsciously yearning to nestle himself in your warmth, yet, always going through, a mere ghost of an absent lover in your presence.
masterlist
more angst :0 i think most of my blog will be angst lmao. btw this was originally posted on my other account @/mignonne02. i just took it down there. thank you for all the support! it makes me really excited to write more >> (please request btw) especially on my last post (diluc angst for life)
#honkai star rail#hsr x reader#honkai star rail x you#star rail x reader#blade angst#blade x reader#honkai star rail images#honkai star rail angst#writing ᝰ.ᐟ
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But when you think Tim McGraw, I hope you think my favorite song, the one we danced to all night long, the moon like a spotlight on the lake.
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ᴇɴᴛɪᴄɪɴɢʟʏ ᴅᴇᴀᴅʟʏ (Siren!Kazuha x Reader)
Warnings: Some bleeding, reader got attacked beforehand, mentions of death. That's all I think, if there's more, please do tell <3.
Female reader! Happy reading <3
It was pitch black, the night sky staring down at you in amusement as you moved through the trees with caution. Blood running down your sleeve with burn marks littering your skin. The adrenaline pumping through your veins as the memories of your village being invaded and burnt to the ground. Masked men chasing after you, they managed to throw a knife at your arm. Cutting it deep enough to bleed a little.
You huffed, pushing your hair back. The moonlight spilling across the land delicately as a lake came into view. The moon had reflected onto the rippling water as you moved closer. At least you could cleanse yourself from the blood.
You sauntered near the edge of the water, the moonlight far too dim for you to see the glowing eyes watching your every move.
"A human wondering so late at night?" A soft and alluring voice spoke. It was different, it was masculine yet definitely not human.
You flinched backwards, taking several steps back as the creature swam sedately closer. Its fins peeked through the water, a face coming into sight. It was as if his hair was created out of moonlight, gorgeous silvery strands framing his face with a bright stripe of crimson straight down the side. Perhaps the red was a warning to get away. His eyes were the colour of blood, like his fins although they were more faded. His tail was a snowy white, his scales glimmering under the sweet moonlight. Skin as fair as porcelain. He tilted his head as he rested him arms on the land surrounding the body of water, his tail swaying behind him.
He was a ghostly white rose, blooming in a thriving garden of crimson roses. Standing out, the moonshine acting as his spotlight, making his petals shimmer. He was breathtaking.
And he knew it.
Something so ethereal about him. Something so desirable. He saw the way your eyes hungrily took in his appearance, and he chuckled. His laughter like the sweet chiming of ribboned bells. He just seemed so bewitching and so cordial...It was as if your brain rewired, too flooded to think of anything rational as you strongly felt the urge to just come closer.
"One would be a fool to not give in,
Whoever said love was a sin?
If I am what you desire, my dear.
Why don't you come near?"
He hummed lowly yet so melodiously, something so entrancing about his voice.
You listened, or more like your body followed what he ordered. In that moment, you couldn't care less about anything until you came near enough to see his fangs, glinting in the moonlight as he grinned. Only around 7 steps away from the glistening body of water.
Your brain finally snapped out of its mindless trance.
A siren.
You softly gasped, stumbling backwards. The dangerous fairytale creatures with a voice so pretty yet deadly. No wonder you found yourself wanted to linger closer to him, his beauty hypnotising and his voice luring. He must have enchanted you as soon as he spotted you.
"It would be a shame to leave without a taste." His voice lilted with flirtatiousness and heavy enchantment. He tilted his head as he asked with a mischievous grin. "Isn't that what you desire?"
Soft tunes emitting from him, and you felt the need to comply, to hear his voice even closer. His voice became louder, and you took a step forward, locking eyes with his. The clear murderous intent in them told you to run but his voice was just so soothing and his face so mystically pretty. It felt like your mind was spiked with poisonous sweetness as you took another step forward.
Then another.
And another until you were only a step away from the lake. It purled menacingly at your arrival.
He hummed. "Quite the strong one, you are. I have never witnessed a human snap out of my enchantment."
You tilted your head, your mind foggy as you heard him speak. His siren song was deafening, and you only groaned in response. Your eyes fell shut as you felt like you were floating, only to be met with the cold water encasing your body whole. You let out a scream, only for it to be devoured by the merciless water as you flailed. Your brain had begun to shut down quicker, flooding with honeyed enchantments.
Black dots began to dance in your blurry vision, teasing you as you began to close your eyes. The sardonic taste of death sent your mind into spirals. A pair of arms wrapped around your body, bringing it closer to theirs as it brought you to the surface. You coughed out the water, wheezing as you clutched the person's body with all of your strength.
"I had forgotten how fragile humans were." The person holding you speaks and it's none other than the siren himself. "Perhaps my siren song was too strong."
You look at him blearily as he speaks to you, or more like himself. He looks down at you in his arms. He hasn't meant to flood your brain as much as he did, to make you fall into the water. But he didn't have any intentions of letting you live either. This situation intrigued him, his pure instinct kicking in to stop you from drowning. He was going to drown you anyway but now he has you in his arms, blinking up at him.
He took in your appearance, how the strands of your hair complimented your face so prettily even when drenched and how your eyes fluttered at him so adorably yet so blankly. Like you were still recovering from his voice charming your mind.
He usually never felt attracted to any of his prey, his desire to feast upon human flesh was always so elevated. Yet you were somewhat pretty for a human, a little adorable too.
Alarmed at the sight of your potential killer, you squirmed in his grasp. He only smiled down at you, humming a low tune and you fell into an enchanted trance yet again. Though it wasn't as powerful and mind fogging, it only played some tricks on your mind to cease your movement.
"Ah, I have never quite met such a feisty human like yourself." He spoke softly, though this time his voice was devoid of any enchantment. "Nor have I met another as entrancing as you are."
You flushed at his flustering words; unsureness clear in your eyes as you look at him.
"Are you not supposed to...lure me and kill me?" You ask, rather bluntly as you cleared your throat.
Even if he seemed taken aback, he didn't show it and only smiled sweetly at you. You couldn't deny how sublime he looked up closely.
"I could but that would not be as pleasurable. It would be a waste of such a pretty face." He said before adding. " Although I am sure your blood is nothing short of divine."
You look at him, incredulously as you hold your tongue to not say anything stupid.
He chuckled, bringing his hand to stroke your hair. It was strange, the feeling of the powerful creature treating you so carefully after nearly ending your life. "You intrigue me, human. Why don't we make a fair deal? I will spare your little life in exchange for your company."
You look at him, not convinced. "How...do you not know I won't escape?"
The corners of his lips tugged into a small smirk at your question. Hints of wickedness seeping though. "What makes you think I will not hunt you down, dove? I have feasted on your kind for years and none of them have ever escaped from my grasp. I have my ways."
Your lips parted slightly, taking in a slow breath. "So, you are willingly letting me live for my company?"
Your fingers twitched as you regained sense in your limbs, but you didn't dare move.
"It does get quite lonely." He says, light sorrow tainting his voice as he drags a long, sharp nail down the side of your face. A little more pressure is all it takes to draw blood. You shiver at the feeling.
"Do we have a deal, dove?" He asks, his expression quickly altering as he looks down at you with a grin, his fangs almost daring you to say no.
You slowly nod and he chuckles, knowing that you'd agree anyway. "Allow me to seal our deal."
"Okay." You say rather softly, unsure of how he was going to.
He smiled enticingly, keeping you in suspense as he tilted your chin upwards. He captured your lips in a kiss, his other hand beneath your back to keep you afloat. It was brief, unexpected yet enchanting. Everything about him was just so glamorous.
You slid an arm around his shoulder, hand caressing his neck. He smiles into the kiss at the feeling. He slipped his tongue into your mouth, and you followed only for his fangs to lightly prick your tongue. He pulled away as you lightly hissed at the sudden pain. Thankfully, it didn't last long.
He licks his fangs, as if he were savouring the sapid taste of your blood. He lets go of your chin to tuck a few strands of hair behind your ear as he whispers lowly, charmingly even.
"Our bond is sealed."
#genshin#genshin impact#mihoyo#hoyoverse#genshin x reader#genshin x you#genshin x y/n#kazuha#kaedahara kazuha#kazuha x y/n#kazuha x reader#kazuha x you#kazuha genshin impact#kazuha genshin#fanfic#genshin fanfiction#female reader
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Her ways of loving you
Her ways of loving you.
Wednesday Addams x fem! Reader
Letting you sleep on her shoulder.
“Red carnation means love, while yellow carnation means rejection. Now, can anyone tell me—“
You blinked slowly, too drowsy to focus on your class. With all your assignments, you were not able to get any sleep last night— and the caffeine you consumed was not helping at all.
You yawned, straightening your back, trying to wake yourself up. But it was no use— your eyelid just got heavier and heavier as minutes passed by, and you knew you couldn’t stay awake for long.
With thirty minutes left in class, your head flopped onto your girlfriend’s shoulder— you passed out in less than a second.
Wednesday went stiff by your sudden touch— furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. She snapped her head towards you, only to be greeted by the view of you sleeping— eyes closed, soft breathing ticking her nose. She stared at your sleeping form for longer than necessary, before focusing back to class.
She ignored the looks her classmates gave her the whole session.
2. Walking with you, shoulders brushing against each other.
“—and Enid, she nearly threw her phone in the lake! She was like—“ Giggles rang through the hallway as you laughed at the memory. “Enid is so funny. No wonder she’s so popular!”
Wednesday only hummed in reply, watching you talk excitedly. You turned to look at her, grinning softly.
“Anyway, how was your day?” You asked, “I haven’t seen you at all today. Having different classes can be a real pain sometimes.”
“Horrible.” Came a reply, making you chuckle. “You always say that. Some originality, please?” You teased, before looking up to the sky.
The sky was dark, but studded with shimmering stars. The moonlight shone over you and your lover, like a giant spotlight on a stage.
“Huh.” You let out, “It's a full moon.”
Wednesday’s eyes followed yours, before tracing back to your face.
“Beautiful, hm?” You sighed out, admiring the view.
The raven haired girl only brought herself closer to you— shoulders brushing— in response.
3. Her writing time, with your playlists
“—I never knew— you could hold moonlight in your hands, ‘Till the night I held you—“
You were on your girlfriend’s bed, flipping through the pages of your book. The familiar melody rang in the room, making you hum to the tune.
“These lyrics are going to make me throw up.” Wednesday said monotonously without stopping her typing. You laughed, closing your book and putting it away on the nightstand beside you.
“Imagine that it’s me singing the lyrics. Maybe it’ll help.” You smiled jokingly, “Although I could never beat Ariana’s singing, she’s too good.” You gushed, lying down to face the ceiling.
A moment passed before your girlfriend’s voice interrupted the comfortable silence.
“It still makes me nauseous.”
“However, it made the song less agonizing to listen to.”
4. Being with you when you cry
You curled up into a ball against the wall, unable to contain the cries that threatened to slip past your lips.
You wiped your tears with the back of your hand, but the tears kept coming, and coming, and coming..
You flinched when you heard someone approaching. You could tell it was your lover by the sound of her footsteps.
You felt her sit down beside you, her eyes straight ahead, without saying anything at all.
The two of you sat there until you were too tired to cry, until your hot tears dried up, unmoving throughout the whole process.
“..thank you.” You whispered with your hoarse voice, finally turning your head to face the raven haired girl.
She met your eyes, and looked at you with her signature blank expression.
But you knew the difference. Her eyes were softer. Her body wasn't as stiff as usual, and most importantly, she didn’t pull away when you reached for her hand.
Although only the tip of your hand was touching the other’s, you could feel what she was trying to say.
‘I love you.’
And you loved her too.
-
this probably doesn’t make sense since I wrote this in an hour at 3am!! Forgive me for being so cheesy I hate this.
Also the song mentioned in this is <moonlight> by Ariana grande!
#Wednesday Addams x reader#wednesday Addams x you#wednesday addams#wednesday x you#wednesday x reader#jenna Ortega x reader
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Immortalized Muses
Authors Word: Woo, ok, this took me easily two months to write.
This came to life after having a dream about Rafayel and I attending an art exhibition and him begging me to be in a picture with him after I refused. (Basically this is a glorified retelling of the dream tbh haha)
This is my first time displaying my writings on this account so I hope you all enjoy
- Mikaela 🤍🪽
Warnings/Themes: Mutual Pining, swearing/profanity, non-established relationship (they're friends/employer & employee), Rafayel throwing hints like confetti, mild smut(??), mentions of sexual tones of voice, mentions of alcohol/being tipsy and/or drunk, banter banter, Rafayel is a princess (big surprise)
Please let me know if I missed any themes
Tags: Rafayel x MC (MC is they/them so it can apply to any gender)
"Why do you keep disappearing?"
With a jump, y/n turned towards the intrusion of their solace.
"Rafayel..." With sheepish welcome, they bowed their head looking at their reflection in their drink, knowing that they'd wandered off again and left Rafayel alone at the after party for the exhibition, "Sorry, I just needed some air..."
He made a grunt of recognition and came to stand beside them, leaning his elbows on the intricate steel woven fence around the balcony, overlooking a calm rippling lake, decorated with trees and local habitations to be spotlighted by the gentle moon hung in the night sky, speckled with stars like diamonds on velvet to bounce off his sun kissed skin and lavender locks, "I thought you'd gone home."
Looking down into their drink they swished it around the glass, ice knocking against the crystal and straw poised between their index and middle finger, eager for another sip, "No, I wouldn't do that."
"Overwhelmed?"
They nodded in reply, "I just needed to take a break."
Rafayel's eyebrows creased, a pout working its way onto his charming features, "The reporters were taking pictures downstairs, I couldn't see you anywhere and had to make this perilous journey to find you."
They deadpanned, pursing their lips as Rafayel started his theatrics.
"For all I know you could've been swooped up by some criminal who'd gate crashed the party!"
"Aren't I supposed to be your bodyguard?" - they sipped their drink with a snide snort - "What do you pay me for if not to look after your safety and my own?"
He genuinely pouted now, shooting y/n a half hearted glare, "Oh, you know what I mean."
They smiled, genuinely knowing exactly what he meant.
"That lonely, hmm?"
Rafayel looked away, leaning back from the railing to stand tall, ears burning red, arms crossed as he kicked his heel out and spun away from y/n to saunter off with a huff, "Just come back downstairs already."
°°°°
Smoothing the silk of their outfit, y/n took a deep breath, their shoes clacking against the grandiose marble floors.
They felt a little out of place in such an outfit but Rafayel always insisted. Y/n had no choice when the ornate crisp white outfit made of silk and chiffon was laid on their bed, pearl accessories and details lined with tints of pastel blues.
Then Rafayel would insist on doing make-up for y/n, his skills on a paintbrush transferring to an array of beauty brushes.
Y/n always came out looking like the multiple zeros on a check he'd get for one of his paintings and they always felt their heart beat a little fast when they noted how much time and care Rafayel put into dressing them up to be the prized Belle of the Ball.
"Ah, there you are!" Rafayel greeted them, wrapping an arm around their shoulder and whispering a quick 'Help me!' in their ear.
Y/n chuckled but it soon died in their throat as they heard the business man drone on about monetary prospects of Rafayel's studio.
His arm was retrieved to his side and he showed utmost interest in the poor fool as he droned on, gums flapping like a pig at a troph, greed seeping into their every word and not a care for the art that Rafayel poured his blood, sweat and pearlescent tears into that was displayed around the exhibition like an ornate frame to the arrogant masses.
Y/n even swore they saw Rafayel's eyes twitch once or twice and couldn't tell if it was from the other mans ignorance, Rafayel's affinity with boredom or if their little rest bite from the party before was still grating on him.
They deemed it well to stay put and endure the rest of the night and took a sip of their drink, eyeing the bar like an old lover already.
"Hey, get me a red wine?" Rafayel whispered in their ear, goosebumps flooding their skin, "I fucking need it."
They looked at him from the corner of their eyes and nodded, seeing the ever present smirk and surety displayed in his eyes, behind it was waves of exhaustion and desperation.
He wanted nothing more than for this night to end, just as much as y/n did. They pitied the poor artist.
With a curt nod, they excused themselves to the drink bar, "Old fashioned and a wine."
"Top or bottom shelf?"
They looked over their shoulder as another business man slung his arm over Rafayel's shoulders, laughing boisterously as Rafayel visibly stiffened, his white knuckled fists slipping into his pockets to disguise his annoyance and crafting a smile on his face.
"The one that'll have the highest alcohol percentage." - They snuck a glance at him again, his jaw now visibly tensed, his smile becoming a grimace - "Stat."
°°°°
As the money hungry ladder climbers of the night slowly dispersed to their ubers and chauffeurs alike home, Thomas, Rafayel and themself got to winding down the night. Close friends, family and beneficiaries hung back for group pictures and y/n stuck to the side, nibbling on some fancy hors d'oeuvres.
Rafayel's aunt pulled him in for a selfie, pinching his cheeks as he weakly protested with a groan and y/n couldn't help but giggle when Thomas threw himself into the mix enveloping them both from behind in a hug to join the picture.
There wasn't a sober soul in the venue, that was for damn sure.
Y/n couldn't help the smile creeping onto their face at the pleasant scene of Rafayel - despite his eagerness to leave - visibly loosening up and finally enjoying himself with his people, not the riff raff with obese wallets and closed minds.
Looking up from the empty glass, y/n saw Rafayel's gaze over his shoulder at them.
They raised a brow, wondering why Rafayel was staring at them.
Maybe he was tired and wanted to be escorted home?
They'd get their answer, as Rafayel slipped from Thomas' and his Aunts embrace to stride over and stand against the wall beside Y/n.
"Having fun?" They asked.
"I guess," Rafayel sighed, "Just really fucked."
Y/n could tell, since Rafayel's pleasantries and ability to save face had flown out the window with his language and demeanor.
They dusted their curled finger against his cheek, his dark under eyes starting to show through the concealer he'd applied before the event.
He sighed, his bunched shoulders dropping slightly as he closed his eyes, basking in the gentle and tender touch they gave him, his fists loosened, going slack in his pockets as he revealed in the touch.
"We'll get you back to your home soon," Y/n spoke, retrieving their hand away, pressing their watch as a holographic monitor buzzed to life, "It's nearly one in the morning, Gods...."
They called for a ride to take him back to his place and the other guests were doing the same to head to their own respective abodes.
"Rafayel!" His Aunt called and waved him over and he stiffened, "Come over here, we're taking one last picture."
They leant against the wall as Rafayel began to stride over to meet the group of people. He stopped, turning to them and placed out his hand in offering to join.
"Pass." Y/n held their open palm up in front of him, "I'm not someone who should be in such a picture, I'm just your bodyguard."
He turned fully to speak to them, eyebrows creased and lips pursed, "Nonsense, come."
They shook their head, an apologetic smile on their face, "No, no...you go, I'll keep an eye out for-"
"Quit being stubborn," Rafayel quipped, his tone more rough than usual with his fatigue and waning patience, "I want you in the picture, so you'll be in the picture."
Deciding to skip their words of protest they turned on their heel to go stand outside and wait for the ride. Their plan fell short as Rafayel grabbed their arm, his hold strong enough that they couldn't break free but gentle enough as to not hurt them, "Stay..."
Y/n tilted their head, irritation spiking as they looked over their shoulder with pursed lips and a raised brow. They decided to play on his ego, hoping their bargaining chip would shake the painter off, "Beg then."
A look of shock splashed across his features like paint across a canvas. His lips parted, looking for a comeback but instead he let go of their arm.
Y/n thought they were free, going to turn on their heel until his arm snaked around their shoulders, fingers dusting their slightly exposed collarbone with strands of hair interwoven through his fingertips. He lent down, his face to the side of theirs as his other hand tucked their hair behind their ear, his lips dusting against the shell of their ear as he whispered in a low hum, "Please..."
They felt a jolt through their body, their breath hitched to flee their mouth in a squeak.
Rafayel continued his assault of words against their ear, sending electric currents through their veins to rise as a bright crimson blush on their cheeks. His tone was reminiscent of a whine closing in on whimpering.
"Please, Y/n....Please stay, please don't walk away, stay for me? Please darling, I really want you, I really really need you, please I need you beside me-"
With what energy they could muster between their hitched breathing and trembling limbs they pushed the artist off them and stormed towards the group of people readying themselves for the picture.
"Fine! Gods, Rafayel..." Y/n groaned and stood fixing their hair to the side of the group.
They could feel Rafayel's smug, triumphant smirk burning into the back of their skull and they tried not to bristle with frustration that Rafayel got his way.
As Thomas set the timer everyone huddled in and around the artist. Rafayel pulled Y/n flush by his side, his arm around their waist, fingers gripping into the plush flesh of their clothed hip. He leant down as the timer counted down to whisper once more in their ear.
"Art is meant to be witnessed...Do you really think I wouldn't pose with my favorite art piece?"
Y/n blush and Rafayels smug smile of victory were immortalized within that photograph forever.
Y/n blamed it on the alcohol.
Rafayel always held a knowing smirk as to the real reason.
#love and deepspace#rafayel#love and deepspace rafayel#rafayel love and deepspace#love & deepspace#rafayel girlie#lads rafayel#mc love and deepspace#mc x rafayel#one shot#drabble#love and deepspace drabbles#love and deepspace oneshot
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The one we danced to all night long, the moon like a spotlight on the lake...
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How each Moon Signs chill during rainy season 💫
Aries Moon Sign: Aries moon sign individuals are full of energy and enthusiasm. During the rainy season, they would love to go out and enjoy the rain. They would take a long drive in the rain or go for a walk in the park with their friends.
Taurus Moon Sign: Taurus moon sign individuals love to stay indoors and enjoy their own company. During the rainy season, they would love to curl up with a good book, sip on a hot cup of tea or coffee, and enjoy the pleasant weather.
Gemini Moon Sign: Gemini moon sign individuals are social butterflies and love to be around people. During the rainy season, they would love to host a get-together with their friends or family at their home and enjoy the rain together.
Cancer Moon Sign: Cancer moon sign individuals are emotional and sensitive. During the rainy season, they would love to spend time with their family and close friends. They would cook delicious food together, watch movies, or just simply sit and chat with each other.
Leo Moon Sign: Leo moon sign individuals love to be in the spotlight. During the rainy season, they would love to organize a party or an event and invite all their friends and family to enjoy the rain with them.
Virgo Moon Sign: Virgo moon sign individuals are perfectionists and love to stay organized. During the rainy season, they would love to declutter their home and organize their belongings. They would also love to indulge in some self-care activities like a relaxing spa session or a yoga class.
Libra Moon Sign: Libra moon sign individuals love to maintain harmony and balance in their lives. During the rainy season, they would love to spend time with their loved ones and maintain peaceful relationships.
Scorpio Moon Sign: Scorpio moon sign individuals are passionate and intense. During the rainy season, they would love to indulge in some creative or artistic pursuits like writing, painting, or playing music.
Sagittarius Moon Sign: Sagittarius moon sign individuals love to travel and explore new places. During the rainy season, they would love to go on a short trip to a hill station or a place with scenic beauty to enjoy the rain.
Capricorn Moon Sign: Capricorn moon sign individuals are practical and hardworking. During the rainy season, they would love to complete their pending tasks and focus on their work. They would also love to take up a new skill or hobby.
Aquarius Moon Sign: Aquarius moon sign individuals are innovative and unconventional. During the rainy season, they would love to explore new ideas and experiment with their creativity. They would also love to spend time with like-minded people and discuss their ideas.
Pisces Moon Sign: Pisces moon sign individuals are dreamy and imaginative. During the rainy season, they would love to indulge in some creative pursuits like writing, photography, or dancing. They would also love to spend time by the water, like at the beach or a lake, to enjoy the rain and the beauty of nature.
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#astroworld#astro observations#astro community#astroblr#astrology#tarot reading#astroloji#vedic astrology#advertising#astro notes
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like a moth to the flame, part II
Pairing: monster!Din Djarin x female!reader
Rating: E, 18+
Word Count: 7.9k
Warnings: monster!Din, dark!Din, stalking, predatory/obsessive/possessive behavior, creepy shit, hunting and gore, blood, masturbation, size kink + references to reader being small but only relative to monster!Din who’s like 7ft tall and massive, smutty monsterfucking thoughts
Notes: HAPPY HALLOWEEKEND, MY BELOVED MONSTERFUCKERS! Thank you to @ezrasbirdie and @dincrypt for the help! xx
Part I | Masterlist
YOU
It’s one of those summer nights that feels like a sun-baked, scorching noon. The air is hot and heavy and completely still. Even lying in bed completely naked, blankets tossed off and scrunched up below your feet, you’re sweating. All the windows in your room are thrown wide, the drawn curtains unmoved by even a hint of a breeze, the crickets outside chirping rapid and relentless in the heat.
You’ve been tossing and turning for hours.
It doesn’t help that the Mandalorian’s smoke-dark growl of your name has been playing on repeat in your head. You’ve only heard the actual thing three times, but the sound—the tone, the inflection, the cadence—is seared there. And it plays.
Again and again.
It’s been happening a lot lately—forcing its way into your mind like a mantra, especially at night when you’re trying to sleep. Usually, making yourself come helps. But you’ve already done that tonight—while you unapologetically imagined those big gloved hands on your body. Sometimes distracting yourself in other ways tires you out, but you’re too restless to read, too overheated to want to get up and do anything else.
Plus, you’re too busy ruminating on the fact that tomorrow is Saturday yet again, and it will likely be as much of a disappointment as the last few.
Each week, you wait hopefully. You watch him enter the market street—even if you aren’t actively looking for him (which you always are), how could you not immediately notice his blinding glint in the morning sun?—and anticipation draws up tight in your stomach. You tell yourself that you’ll be ready this time. You’ll actually speak to him; you won’t just ogle the devastating spread of his shoulders or think about what he smells like. You won’t be distracted by the gentle but significant weight of his large hand on your cheek if he ever decides to touch you again. No, you’re determined to make a connection with him. He asked what you liked. He asked where you were going. You want to know what he likes, where he’s going.
Except…he hasn’t stopped at your kiosk again.
Instead, every week, you watch him effortlessly part the crowd, moving down the busy street with purpose. He turns his helmet to look at you as his long, decisive strides take him past. You meet his spotlight gaze, and you get a…perfunctory nod. But that’s it. He never stops, never comes near enough to even exchange a verbal greeting. The fact that you get a subtle jerk of his helmet while he never acknowledges anyone else doesn’t soothe the sting of his avoidance.
You want more than this.
And it’s driving you crazy.
A bead of sweat drips down your temple. You sit up in bed and decide you’ve had enough.
Fuck this.
The lake is so close, and the moon outside your window is paperwhite bright.
You climb out of bed to throw on a light dress and pull on your socks and boots, sliding your sheathed blade into the space between your ankle and the leather. The little fawn is tucked in a tight circle in her basket by the foot of your bed, fast asleep. You decide not to disturb her—you don’t want to have to worry about losing her in the dark or protecting her from hungry things if she follows you.
Keeping her wasn’t your initial intention, but she seems to have imprinted on you. You were hoping to help her heal and let her go, and instead you have a dappled nut-brown shadow. After only a few days, you knew that keeping her temporarily was never an option. She’s a baby—old enough to be weaned but young enough to still be unsteady on her skinny little legs—and she’d never have survived alone, even without the injury. So during the day, she trails behind you as you go about your work, sifting through the undergrowth to nibble at the softest shoots as you harvest or prune or fertilize or weed. And at night, she curls into that same tight circle, her dark nose tucked against the white bandage on her healing ankle. She’s sleeping soundly tonight, her tiny belly moving almost imperceptibly as she breathes slowly and deeply.
You decided to call her Luna because when she looks up at you with her big, bright eyes, you think the inky depths could contain a night sky of their own.
You toss a flashlight and a towel into a bag, sling it over your shoulder, and you’re out the door. Outside, the air is just as stifling and oppressive. Not a single leaf or blade of grass is stirring. You don’t really need the flashlight. The moon illuminates the landscape, and even if it didn’t, you know your gardens and orchards and the nearby forest by heart. Your feet follow a familiar path through your vegetable patch, down a row of cherry trees, and into the woods. After a few minutes of picking your way through the ferns, the trees open up onto the lake.
Moonlight paints the glassy surface in long, luxurious strokes of silver. The water looks black and deep, though you know it’s not. You skirt the edge until you reach the most inviting stretch of pebbled shoreline and slip out of your dress, shoving your things into a pile on a boulder. You step over the smooth rocks with bare feet, careful as they shift underfoot, until the water laps against your toes. You splash your way toward the deeper water, falling forward into its inviting embrace, reveling in the instant relief.
You swim laps in the moonlight until you’re satisfied to simply float. You let yourself drift and enjoy the cool.
You’re not thinking about the Mandalorian.
You’re not thinking about what it would be like to remove his armor, piece by piece, and coax him into the water with you.
Would he ever let you? Would he ever trust someone else with that power?
A branch snaps somewhere in the forest, the loud sound jolting you out of your reverie, and you right yourself immediately in the water, looking to the place where the sound came from.
You hold still and strain to hear anything else.
Something is definitely moving; a black shape shifts in the shadows between the trees for a moment then stops. You can’t make out any details, its silhouette obscured by the darkness, but you can tell it’s large. And all you can think about is how long it would take to swim to the shore and reach the boulder where you left your things. And your vibroblade.
Fear slips a new filter over your surroundings. The grasping dark around you is hungry now. You start to paddle your way to the shore as quietly as you can, your gaze still fixed on that spot in the trees.
Panic churns hot in your stomach when an even worse sound rends the silence. There’s a low, rumbling growl, an even louder snarl, and then what might be the scuffling of clawed feet on the forest floor—no, you’re sure of it.
You freeze for a second, treading water again, feeling intolerably vulnerable. There are two indiscernible shapes moving in the shadows now, the larger one approaching the smaller until they’re a few feet apart.
A standoff.
You're almost to the shore, and whatever is out there seems occupied for the time being, so you force yourself to swim the rest of the way toward the shallows as quickly and quietly as you can and hurry out of the water, painfully aware of your naked body. You snatch up your dress to pull it over you and grip your blade, shoving your feet back into your boots.
The whole time, you keep your eyes on the place amidst the dark trees where you witnessed what looked like the start of the skirmish.
It’s silent.
All is silent.
All is still.
Then, for a moment, a strange, dull glow emanates from amidst the trees…but when you blink, it’s gone. It’s over so fast that you’re not sure if you imagined the light and the familiar shine of silver that reflected it. But when you blink again, the shape is imprinted on your eyelids—you can see the negative space around that imposing silhouette.
It’s him. He’s here.
Like you conjured him straight out of your fantasy.
Some combination of confusion and excitement and apprehension whirls around in your stomach.
Why is he here?
What else is out there?
What if your eyes are playing tricks on you in the dark?
What if it isn’t him?
What if it is…and he isn’t as harmless as you want him to be?
It’s too much—too risky, too overwhelming. Your blade still clutched in your hand, you back up slowly, only turning when you reach the place you’d cut through the forest on the way to the lake.
Then, you turn and run.
***
The questions eat at you for the rest of the night. The sky outside your window lightens from midnight blue to cobalt until a smudge of rose gold breaks across the horizon. The rising sun brings a reluctant morning breeze.
Was it him?
You’ve decided one thing by the time you get up, dress, gather your things, and head into town for the Saturday market: enough is enough.
You’re tired of waiting for him, and you have to know.
Was it a crazy coincidence that you ended up in the same place at the same time?
Was he watching you?
Was he even there?
You’re determined to find out.
You decide to catch him on his way to the market. It means you have to stick a Be back in 10 minutes! sign on your stall in the middle of the first morning rush. But he always shows up around 10:30, half an hour after the market opens. So you help the first group of customers as quickly as you can—you have to hurry Terek, your regular who always lingers to remind you he could date anyone in town he wants but isn’t, through his usual string of slightly intrusive small talk—then slip away when there happens to be a few-second lull, setting out your sign and zipping off toward the entrance to town.
The Mandalorian shows up right on time, like clockwork. He’s coming through the stone archway that marks the entrance to town just as you’re coming down the side street that intersects the main one.
You fall into step beside him, lengthening your strides to keep up with his gait.
He doesn’t startle. He isn’t surprised. As far as you can tell, at least.
You realize that’s what you want from him—it’s the bare minimum of what you want from him. A break in his composure. You’re desperate to get something from him—a reaction he can’t hide behind his beskar. Something he can’t choke back.
You want to know him.
“Hi,” you offer, looking up at his helmet, which is still trained forward.
“Hello,” he says, inclining his head to nod in your direction without actually looking at you.
You walk in silence for a moment, waiting to see if he’s going to say anything else. He doesn’t. He just continues stalking down the street, his gloved hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. His pace seems to flag just the tiniest bit, though—as if he’s noticed that it’s hard for you to keep up with him.
You want to ask him about last night, but just the thought makes you clam up. It would be a ridiculous accusation if he wasn’t there.
You decide to take a different tack.
“So you hated the peaches.”
He swings his helmet down to look at you, betraying a little surprise. “No?”
You smile up at him, pleased. “Well, you never came back, so I had to assume that meant you didn’t like them.”
“There are other places that sell produce,” he points out, his calm composure returned, visor pointed forward.
“Not ones that sell better fruit than I do.”
“Oh yeah?”
You can detect the slightest hint of amusement in his voice.
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
He’s teasing you.
“Of course, I’m sure,” you say.
“How?”
You scoff and peer up at him again, and he’s looking down at you. “I mean, do you disagree?”
“No.”
“So you agree.”
He bows his head slightly. “I do.”
“Okay, so then why go somewhere else?”
“None of the other vendors harass me about the quality of their fruit.”
You crack a wide smile and look up at him. “You just made a joke.”
He hums in a noncommittal way.
You can’t help but wonder if he’s actually looking straight ahead, where his helmet is staunchly pointed, or if he’s watching you from the corner of his eye. Something tells you it’s the latter.
As soon as the market street comes into view, Mando stops in his tracks, turns toward you, and as if he just realized, asks: “Shouldn’t you be at your stand right now?”
“Of course,” you say, looking up at him with another bright smile, “that’s where we’re going right now.”
It feels so fucking good to have his full attention, even just for a moment, his body squarely facing yours, his black visor fixed on your face. It feels like stepping outside into the warm embrace of the spring sun after an especially cold winter, like you can finally thaw. You wonder how rare it is in a context other than a fight—how often he actually engages this directly with another person outside of violence.
He looks down at you, completely still but for the rhythmic expansion and contraction of his chest. What would it feel like to rest your head there? To feel the steady rise and fall of his beskar plate against your cheek? To be constantly reassured that there is a beating heart under all that metal? To know that it endures.
You stand there, drinking him in, and an uncomfortable truth unfurls in your mind: you hope he was at the lake for you. You hope he followed you there. You have to suppress a shiver when you think about him watching you from the trees. You hope he saw all of you.
It’s fucked but it’s true: what should scare you, what would scare you about anyone else, makes him all the more alluring.
“Come on,” you beckon, jerking your head toward your stand. “I have something for you.”
He cocks his head in question but turns to follow when you don’t explain.
DIN
He watches the hypnotizing sway of your hips as you head up the market street, staying close in your wake. His presence parts the crowd, and he likes keeping everyone at a safe distance. He likes the illusion of having you to himself. Watching and protecting you without anyone else knowing is one thing—having you know, having others know is something else all together. It feels good. Too good.
Like a claim and a warning.
Din shoves the thought away.
He watches you and wonders if you know. If you saw him at the lake.
You’d say something if you did? Right?
When he wandered his way to your house last night, you weren’t there. The windows were all open, the sheer curtains drawn, but the only detectable heat signature was the tiny snug fawn sleeping at the end of your bed.
You were always there at night.
You had been there every single time he’d shown up.
Until last night.
Panic had slid into his stomach like molten metal as he’d gotten closer to your house than he ever had before—close enough to stand by your open bedroom window and look down at your empty bed through a gap in the curtains. If he’d reached out, he could have touched your rumpled sheets. He thought about slipping his glove off to see if they were warm, if you were there recently. He didn’t.
He didn’t know why that felt too invasive after all the shit he’d already done, but he honored the arbitrary boundary.
All he knew was that it was midnight, and you were gone. There was no sign of a struggle. Your front door looked secure. And you wouldn’t leave permanently with the fawn still inside. The fact that you did plan to leave for good rankles at the back of his mind all the time these days, but it couldn’t be that. Not yet.
Maybe you were with someone.
A growl rumbled through his chest. He didn’t like that idea one bit.
Throwing caution to the wind, he had eased his helmet up and off his head and taken in a lungful of balmy air. He could smell you. It confirmed his suspicion that you weren’t home but told him that you had been recently…and you’d left.
He followed the delicate, lingering traces of you, retreading your path across your vegetable patch, down one of the lines of the cherry orchard, and into the forest. He followed the hints of you that clung to the curving ferns and low-hanging tree branches, the ones that had skimmed your legs as you’d walked, until he found you at the lake.
Alone and vulnerable.
Din watched from the cover of the trees as you made quiet ripples on the surface of the dark water, your bare shoulders just visible enough to tell him you weren’t wearing anything at all. That knowledge made his armor feel heavy. Tight and suffocating. You shouldn’t have been out there—alone and far away from him—like that.
He watched you swim, free and happy, and he wanted to strip off his beskar and join you, to splash into that black water and capture you, hold you against his chest and kiss your cold-water lips breathless. He wanted to scoop you up and carry you out of there.
He thought about warming you up, about laying you out on the moss-covered edge of the forest under that perfect spilt-silver moonlight and licking the beads of water from your skin until your shivering ceased and he could feel—and taste—the heat of your blood pumping through your veins.
He’d slide his tongue over the dips and rises of your body until you begged and whined, your grasping fingers tangled in his wet hair, your back arching, and he’d growled: What is it, sweet thing? Tell me what you need. And he’d wait until you were so desperate that you said it aloud, spelled your need out in words for him and told him to drag his mouth down—
Din’s spine had stiffened then, the hairs on the back of his neck standing at attention as he realized yes, you were vulnerable, but no, you were not alone out there. He had picked up the scent of something else—something close, prowling the forest edge on the opposite side of the small lake.
This one wasn’t a fawn. He could tell right away.
It smelled territorial and hungry—warm-blooded and predatory. A hunter. And it was stalking you, pacing back and forth as it waited for you to emerge from the water, circling the end of the lake where you’d stowed your belongings on a rock. Din didn’t have to wait long for the creature to notice him. A breeze stirred lazily through the trees, and the distant orange shape stopped its patrol to stare in his direction. When Din flipped off the thermal readout on his helmet, he could just barely make out the two yellow pinprick eyes gleaming through the black curtain of night.
And when he lifted his helmet just a little and breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the night air again, he could detect others not far off. The pack, ready to come when called.
He didn’t give the thing the chance to come to him or to call for reinforcements. He wouldn’t risk wasting any time when it was closer to you than he was, when he wasn’t sure when you’d decide it was time to go home and walk right into its trap. Din made his way quickly and silently through the forest, the dark saber in hand, a brutal satisfaction roiling in his chest. The idea of killing this thing for you was pleasing to him. For once, the hilt in his grip didn’t feel unnaturally heavy. It felt right—balanced and poised for action. It wanted blood.
The creature met him halfway, waiting for him between two wide tree trunks.
They assessed each other for a moment.
It stood on four legs, with thick, dark fur, hackles raised in warning and pointed ears pinned back. It was tall, looming over the undergrowth, its head almost as high as Din’s chest. Definitely an apex predator, the top of whatever food chain existed on this planet. Its viciously clawed feet looked the perfect size and shape to make the gouges he’d seen in the ground and the tree trunks.
The beast growled, its snarling lip revealing a jagged set of white fangs, and without intending to, completely on instinct, Din answered. The sound tore out of his chest like thunder, as he automatically fell into his defensive stance, feet spread wide and muscles tensed for a fight.
Right away, he knew you’d heard it.
It was loud. The sound had carried.
He wanted to look at you, to assess your reaction, but he kept his gaze trained on the creature before him. He knew you were in the middle of the lake. He had time before you could get close enough to see either of them.
But..if he slaughtered this thing like he wanted to—like his salivating mouth was begging him to do—he would risk drawing your attention even more than he already had, would risk completely exposing himself. He needed to take care of this quickly and quietly. So he gritted his teeth and forced himself to silently scare it away instead, flicking the activation on the hilt of the saber. It hummed to life, and Din dragged it back and forth in a quick motion, slashing the dark air with the lightning-struck blade. The beast hesitated immediately, the beam of light reflected in its blown pupils as it fell backward a few steps.
Din pushed his advantage, surging forward and letting out another growl—this one much lower. A subtle, seething warning.
It was enough.
As soon as the creature turned-tail and raced away from him, Din retracted the blade and turned back to the lake.
And there you were.
You were standing at the edge of the lapping water, wearing a white dress that clung to your wet skin, staring at the place illuminated mere seconds ago by the saber. Staring at him. There was no way you could make him out from that far away though, not when he was under the dense cover of trees.
Right?
If he could see every tiny detail of your body limned in moonlight—down to the pert attention of your nipples through the damp fabric—then he had to admit that you might have been able to make out the general shape of him in the dull glow of the saber. But he couldn’t be sure. His eyesight was excellent, better than the average human now.
He waited, remaining completely still, and watched as you backed your way toward the forest, turned, and broke into a run. Din let out the breath he was holding. After a moment, he followed, lagging behind to ensure you made it home safely. He didn’t leave until he heard the click of your front door lock.
Now, he watches you walk down the market street in front of him, and he wants to ask.
And he can’t, of course. He won’t.
But he wants to.
You slip around the back of your kiosk and smile brightly up at him when he settles his gloved hands on the counter in front of you.
“What can I get for you?”
“You said you have something for me.”
You smile again and drop a pint of shiny red cherries in front of him.
Of course.
Sweet and ripe and perfect.
“Thank you.”
“Need anything else?” you ask.
He nods and looks around, starting to gather his weekly staples. You watch him as he does; he can feel your gaze fixed on his helmet. He works quickly; he needs to get out of here, needs to put more distance between your body and his, more than just this wooden countertop—one that would splinter so easily if he put any weight on it. He looks down at the pile of produce he’s gathered, reaches into his belt for credits, and holds them out to you, hurrying the transaction along.
You ignore the proffered credits and reach for the pint.
You select a perfect polished-garnet cherry from the top of his box and bring it up to your mouth, the thin stem caught between your fingertips when you pop it between your lips. Din’s helmet follows, like the cherry itself is a magnet for beskar. You know you have him—Din can tell you know—so you make a show of trapping it between the white lines of your teeth and biting it slowly, piercing the flesh until berry-red juice bleeds freely, staining your teeth and seeping onto your lower lip.
Din is standing, outstretched hand frozen in midair, transfixed. The air is thick with what neither of you will say but both of you know.
This is spiraling.
You watch his visor, eyes dark, as you dip your fingers into your mouth to pucker your lips and suck the fruit away from the pit, making a soft, borderline obscene sound that he feels in his cock.
You’re doing this on purpose. You know. You know you’ve trapped him.
Does this mean you know he’s been following you? That he wants you?
How much do you know?
You make it all even worse when you swipe up the lingering drop of juice from your bottom lip with your thumb and flick your pink tongue out to lap it up. Slowly.
The glint in your eye and quirk of your lips when you swallow tells him you absolutely know what you’re doing to him. You’re teasing him. Testing him. Torturing him. And having fun while doing it.
He likes it just as much as he hates it—likes that you’re doing it for him, hates that he can’t do anything about it.
Most of all, he’s mad at himself. You feel like you’ve figured him out—because you have figured him out—and you’re comfortable enough to push him. He should have been more careful, less friendly. He shouldn’t have let this get so far out of his hands.
The fire of this burgeoning obsession is just a fraction of what it could become if you know how to stoke it. It will devour you both if he doesn’t snuff it out now. What started as a spark will rage and burn if he lets it—if you learn to feed it so generously.
Din slaps his credits on the counter and shoves his purchases into the bag slung over his shoulder, pointedly looking anywhere but your face.
You shouldn’t feel safe enough to tease him.
You have no idea what he’s capable of.
So he swallows back his thanks and leaves without a word. He doesn’t turn around as he stalks away, even though he’s desperate to see the look on your face—to rush back and soothe you if you seem hurt, to be furious and bitterly satisfied if you don’t.
Instead, he angles his helmet toward the ground and lets his feet follow the familiar path to his house, to the dead part of the forest where he can be alone.
***
Din grits his teeth and steps through the drill again, his muscles straining against the reluctance of the blade in his grip.
The quiet of this place was supposed to help him clear his mind, to settle his thoughts, to allow him to make a plan. Instead, it’s starting to sit heavy on his shoulders and ring in his ears. Oppressive and ever-present and irritating. The perfect silence of the forest isn’t peaceful when he can’t focus.
And it seems like he can never focus these days.
There’s always something vying for his attention: Grogu, his covert, his constant hunger…you.
Right now, thoughts of Grogu are winning.
Is he happy? Is he safe? Are they feeding him enough?
Din knows he won’t get the answers to those questions for a long time. He is unwilling to let himself visit the kid—no matter how much he wants to—until he feels like he has a handle on whatever is scratching so incessantly at the inside of his skull. Until he knows for sure he isn’t dangerous.
So he tries not to dwell on the kid, which means his thoughts wander to other things.
…to you.
A droplet of wine-dark nectar on the perfect bow of your lips.
A white dress, almost translucent with moisture, clinging to the secret curves and planes of your wet body.
All of you, your familiar silhouette, edged in the soft halo of moonlight.
Din finds himself taking breaks from his drills to roam for miles, thinking and seeking…something. Anything but the burden of silence. He walks until he can hear life. The titter of birds and the rustle of leaves in the wind.
And when he can stand it, he picks up the dark saber again, and forces his way through the drill.
Ehn.
Solus.
T’ad.
The blade is still fighting him. Or he’s fighting it?
He can still hear the crackle and drag of the saber against the metal grating of that catwalk. He can still hear her words.
You are too weak to fight the dark saber. It will win if you fight against it. You cannot control it with your strength.
What the Armorer had tried to explain to him then has not become any clearer in the months since. He thought something had clicked into place the other night—hoped that meant he was making progress—but all he knows now is since that shining moment of its cooperation by the lake, the saber has been just as heavy and unyielding as ever. He thinks back to the Armorer’s exact words, trying to parse them for the thousandth time.
Your body is strong.
But your mind is distracted.
She wasn’t wrong about that. And that’s still true now. The part that doesn’t make sense to him is why that matters. Why is an inanimate object dissatisfied with his concentration?
Why does his state of mind have any bearing on the behavior of a stupid fucking laser sword?
Din does sense some fuzzy, amorphous presence on the edges of his mind when the dark saber is humming in his hand, though. It’s the blade itself, he thinks. It brushes against his consciousness faintly, like a spiderweb he can’t see in the dark. But when he flips the proverbial lights on and tries to grasp it in his hands, there’s nothing there. Even the spider herself has skittered beyond the ring of gold.
I am focused, he had insisted. He had lied.
The blade says otherwise. The Armorer had seen right through him.
It doesn’t make sense.
None of it makes sense.
Din had been so tempted to ask the Armorer more about the saber, as they ran through those impossible drills, to ask if she had any real idea what was happening to him. To ask if the dreams and the pain were normal.
He might have. If they were truly alone.
But Paz was there. Watching, listening, waiting in the wings.
Paz had waited until he’d witnessed Din struggle with the blade. He’d waited until he’d felt confident enough to stroll in and challenge him. Classic Paz—only willing to bluster and provoke when his victory was all but assured. It had made Din’s entire body sing with defiance. In that moment, he’d have done anything to keep the saber from Paz’s hands.
He did.
Din shakes his head, letting the saber zip closed. He can’t relive the rest of that right now.
After an hour of continuous drilling, his head is pounding, and his body is sore. The trees ringed around him are scored by deep lacerations, some of which are still flickering orange and red as they smolder. The ground, too, is torn up from the places the blade dragged against the hard-packed dirt. The air smells like wildfire.
He makes the long, slow walk back home. He limps inside and rips off his armor and his clothes, letting it all fall into a heap, before stepping into a scalding shower. The hot spray feels soothing on his tight, overworked muscles, so he stands under it until it starts to run cold.
When he emerges, toweling himself dry, he can’t bring himself to put his armor back on right away—even his soft underlay or his flight suit. He looks at the pile, knowing he needs to put it all on anyway, and he balks. It’s so rare that he spends any time without it anymore. It’s not safe without it. He’s not safe without it.
Being trapped in a beskar prison when his body is aching to change is more painful than anything he’s ever felt before—but it works.
But, right now, his sore body and pounding head are screaming for reprieve, so he pulls on some loose sleep pants and sits on his bed, back straight against the headboard and lets himself be unweighted.
He’ll relax for a little while, just a few minutes, and then he’ll put everything back on.
It’s a mistake.
***
Din wakes up, completely splayed out on his bed, lying face-down.
Before he even opens his eyes, he knows two things:
One, he’s changed.
He can tell by how heavily he’s sinking into the give of his feather mattress, by the fact that he’s too long for his bed, his feet hanging off the end. His once-loose pants are tight across his hips, stretched taut over his quads. Each inhale through his nose brings with it a bevy of nuanced information: a hundred different scents of the house and the forest outside, each of which he can untangle and identify. Copper pipes. Old, dry cedar wood. Moths. The apple on his kitchen counter. Pine needles. Dusk.
The twin spots on his head, just behind his temples, are throbbing. He flexes his clawed hands, and his sharp, half-moon nails catch on the fabric of his blanket. He stretches out his wings, extending them until he can sense complete darkness close over him, even through his closed eyelids.
And the second thing he knows? He’s ravenous.
He’s vibrating with hunger—the type of need that won’t be ignored is singing through him, making his jaw ache and his palms itch. He doesn’t even entertain the idea of changing back before he finds something to eat. He’s in the perfect form to hunt like this. Why deny it?
He’s not sure he could change back if he tried, but he doesn’t want to think too hard about that. He doesn’t think too hard about anything aside from his base instincts—food, water, sex, sleep—when he’s like this. It’s like his rational mind is muffled, buried too deep to hear, and his hindbrain is brought fully online. The animal in him is awake. And in charge.
Din hauls himself out of bed and pushes his way out of the creaky front door. He doesn’t even need his helmet or its night-vision setting. It doesn’t fit when he’s like this anyways. And he’s so sure that no one could ever catch him off guard like this, sneak up on him and see his face, that there is no risk whatsoever to his Creed.
The forest outside smells like possibility. Like snuffling midnight scavengers and rich, damp soil, and searching vines. It smells like life.
They’re not close—all the things that make his mouth water—but his sense of smell is so acute when he’s like this. He can pick up the faintest whiff of a beating heart within a several mile radius. Hot blood calls to him, drawing him in like gravity.
He stalks through the tall trees, silent as he moves through the shadows, and something else—something aside from the base allure of a pulse—beckons him. His clawed feet are ignoring the siren call of a sure kill in favor of a familiar path, one he’s tread almost every night. The monster inside him isn’t bothered by this, though. In fact, that growling, snarling beast in his chest seems to be sated just by the fact that he’s moving closer to you. It doesn’t make sense.
Maybe this hunger he’s feeling isn’t all physical.
The forest lightens around him slowly. Distant stars blink in the coal-black sky visible through the ever-thinning canopy above him.
He passes a myriad of small game, things too insignificant to warrant his attention. A rabbit isn’t worth his time. He needs to sink his fangs into something substantial tonight, something that will twitch and struggle bodily when he severs its carotid artery with his canines. Something he has to hold down with his own weight while it thrashes.
Not yet, though.
First, he needs to see you. He needs to be sure you’re okay.
It’s become almost too easy to watch you when he’s himself—and when he’s like this? It’s laughably easy. There are no barriers for him—nothing he can’t sense, no creature he can’t kill.
Stalking has been his job for decades. He perfected the art of hunting when he was chasing bounties. He’s always been a hunter by profession, and now he is one for pleasure. And by physical design.
He hovers on the edge of the trees, lurking in the dark safety of the shadows, when your cottage comes into view. It looks so tiny tonight, like something from a fairytale, nestled in a little hollow amidst the encroaching forest and orchards and gardens, like it could be swallowed by green in the blink of an eye. Your bedroom window is half open, and no lights are on anywhere in your house. It’s hours before dawn.
He takes a deep inhale, filling his lungs, and amidst the tangle of scents he can pick out several distinct things: you, which is a scent he has yet to name, something like rain and lavender and sunshine; the warmth of the fawn and some other little things that scurry in the night; and of course, all the richness of the orchards. Fruits and flowers, pollen and honey, vegetables and wriggling worms.
The moon is shrouded by thick clouds tonight, so Din lets himself get a little closer to your house than he usually would. He steps through your yard and hugs the gnarled oak that stands sentinel outside your window.
Your curtains are not completely drawn. He can see you through the small gap, fast asleep in your bed, the tiny fawn curled up in the crook of your bent knees. That makes him smile. You look serene and comfortable. Safe.
A warm contentment settles in his chest. Despite his ever-present physical hunger, he almost feels sated. Standing here, watching you, he feels still.
He wants to stay.
But, eventually, he forces himself to pull away and do a perfunctory circuit of your property, his usual perimeter check. All clear.
Satisfied, he finally moves toward something that will slake the gnawing hunger in his gut. The farther he gets from you, the more acute the feeling becomes.
He stalks through the woods with purpose. He doesn’t just know what he wants; he knows which he wants. He wants the thing he didn’t get to kill that night by the lake.
He wants the one that wanted you.
It’s easy enough to find the pack, to follow their pungent scent all the way to the place where the flat ground of the forest buckles and rises into rolling hills. They’re grouped loosely around the mouth of a wide cave, asleep. Even in the dark, he identifies the one he wants right away—it’s the biggest of the group, its fur the color of pitch, swallowing the wan light of the moon. Din is too hungry to enjoy the long, satisfying fight that would inevitably involve all these creatures if he woke even a single one. He’d get the bloody brawl he truly wants—he’d get that brutal satisfaction that comes with barely walking away with his life—but he’s waited too long.
Plus, he can’t eat all of them at once. It’s smarter to pace himself.
So he moves through the group silently and snaps his target’s neck before it even detects his presence. He’s gone, the limp body of his still-warm kill slung over his shoulder, before the rest of them even wake. He listens to their far-off mournful howls as he makes his way back home, content in the knowledge that there is one less thing in the night that poses a threat to your safety.
He’s already looking forward to picking the rest of the pack off one by one, slowly, until they’re gone. He’ll savor each one. For as long as he can, for as long as you’re here, he’ll clean out the forest of anything that could hurt you.
Another idea occurs to him halfway home, and he changes course one last time, heading back to you. Some innate part of him knows what to do. He sets down his kill and walks the wide perimeter of your property one more time. He slashes his blood-wet claws across random tree trunks, carving through the rough bark almost as easily as the dark saber would. He rustles through the underbrush, ensuring his natural musk will cling to the leaves.
A warning. A claim.
He doesn’t know how he knows it will work, but he does.
He marks his territory in blood, and then he shoulders the carcass again, turning for home.
***
None of the beast remains by the time Din gets home. He has left a scattered trail of shredded hide and cracked bones and ribboned viscera in his wake—a path no creature would want to follow—and eaten the rest. His hands and forearms and face are sticky and tight with drying blood, his claws encrusted with it.
He closes his front door behind him, and the old house shakes with the impact. He doesn’t have control of his strength like this; it seems like he’s always misjudging it and leaving things broken.
Right now, he doesn’t care.
He strips off his pants and pushes his way into his bathroom, into the shower, turning it up to a scalding heat. Now that his hunger is sated, he can only think of one thing again.
You.
Din’s resolve is paper thin, his self control a single fraying thread, when he’s like this. He doesn’t even bother working up a sense of guilt when he steps into the shower and wraps his hand around himself.
He has to keep his wings folded tightly against his back to fit in the small tiled alcove. His head looms higher than the shower head, so he bows slightly to feel the hot spray on the crown of his head. He lets it rush through his tousled hair and run down his forehead, his brow, his cheeks and jaw.
The water picks up traces of the tacky blood drying on his face and races faint red lines down his throat and chest. Steam fills the confined space, and Din closes his eyes, bracing one hand against the slippery wall in front of him, as his other works himself with a tight stroke.
He thinks about how you looked tonight, safe in your bedroom, your features soft and sweet in sleep.
For a thing so much smaller than he is, you spread out in your bed a surprising amount, your limbs splayed and relaxed, fingers tangled in rumbled sheets. He thinks about what it would be like to gather you up, to feel you stir molasses-slow from sleep, and wrap himself around you, to pull you on top of him and hold your weight on his chest, your thighs bracketing his hips.
He can hear the drowsy, contented noises you’d make as you roused to find him under you, the gentle smile that would pull on your lips as your eyes fluttered open, the way your hands would start to wander his shoulders, his arms, his chest—the pass of your fingertips leisurely, then exploratory, then greedy.
He thinks about how easy it would be to wrap an arm around your waist and flip you both, to hold himself over you, ducking his head to graze his teeth over your fluttering pulse. He’d be able to taste the iron tang of your blood, even through the thin layer of your skin, if he slipped his long tongue out to tease you. He thinks about how you’d look trapped under his huge body. How you’re his perfect opposite—soft and good and sweet—and that’s everything he wants.
You’re not just sweet, though, and he likes that. He thinks about that knowing look you gave him at the market, a challenge in your darkened eyes, framed by fanned lashes. You’d wear that same expression if he let himself want what he wants, if he let you see how mad you drive him.
You’d be thrilled to watch him unravel over you. He can picture so perfectly how you’d smile up at his black eyes in invitation. In encouragement. Your small hand would slip down to stroke his throbbing erection, where it rested heavy against your inner thigh.
Din tightens his grip and moves his hand faster. His cock is slick with water and diluted blood running in rivulets down his forearms.
He’s bigger like this. Bigger everywhere. He thinks about how small your hands would look wrapped around him, how easy it would be to slip two of his fingertips under the edge of your panties and snag his claws in the threads of the thin fabric, tearing them away from your body. He’d brush the torn scrap out of the way and retract his claws to slip just the pad of one finger into the slit of your sex, rubbing gently against your clit.
How long would it take for him to work you open, he wonders, petting and licking and biting and coaxing, until you were dripping and ready to take him? He wonders if you actually could.
If you’d want to.
He imagines what your lips would look like forming the words, “Please, fuck me.”
The water running down the drain is still a pale, bloody pink when Din comes over his own clenched fist in a series of hot pulses. He growls his way through it, his abdominal muscles tensing and hips stuttering forward, jaw clenched and lip pulled up in a low snarl. The hand he’s leaning on contracts reflexively in pleasure, and he cuts a series of short, deep scratches in the white tiled wall, silver claws gouging easily into stone.
Din leaves himself four lines of evidence, stark proof of his own lack of self control, something for him to stare at tomorrow when the painful clarity of reality returns to him.
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Author Spotlight: Bam Stroker
Today, we're bringing you a special musical guest post from Bam Stroker, author of the current club read Rusalka. Read on to learn more about the music that inspired this erotic retelling of the slavic rusalka myth!
When you think of a lady in a lake, what comes to mind? For me, it’s the haunting trickster of the Rusalka!
Rusalka/Rusalki folklore exists in a pretty far reach, and the folklore for them is fascinating. Most folks will call them the “slavic mermaid”, but that’s not quite right. These ladies do not have fish tails! They hold a history much closer to nixie and nymphs, tied to the land. Until later in time they became associated with women who met their untimely deaths. Usually, by their own doing after losing the love of a man. Where they would then become haunting spirits that would seduce, trick, and drag anyone who dared come by their dwellings to a watery grave.
I first heard about them through the song Rusalka, Rusalka/ Wild Rushes by the Decemberists. When I listened to it, I was absolutely possessed to write a story where a woman runs to the lady of the lake, and instead of death finds love. It’s a setup we all know so well by now, of the historical lesbian gets hitched to a man and runs away to escape it all. And there have been plenty of historical lesbian stories where that escape is usually of the death variety.
Rusalka is a love letter to the complex history of Rusalki, and the stories we have been told about lesbians in history. For once, they both get a fairytale happy ending.
Music is a huge inspiration to me as a writer, especially of the folk variety, and while writing Rusalka I had many different songs on loop throughout the process. The first one is that Decemberists song:
Rusalka, Rusalka / Wild Rushes
While reading the story, music is very present with Sasha singing to the lady of the lake, earning the loving nickname of “Handsome songbird” from her smitten monster. One of the songs hinted at is from the opera Rusalka by Antonín Dvořák. For any Hans Christian Anderson fans out there, you’ll notice the plot of it is very familiar.
Song to the Moon - Rusalka Opera by Antonín Dvořák
Rusalka: “Song to the Moon”
When it comes to folk songs about Rusalki, Kitka’s The Rusalka Cycle: Songs Between Worlds album truly is an amazing inspiration. I’m still on the hunt for Rusalka folk songs, so if you happen to know of any I would be so excited to hear them. In the meantime, here’s a song to set the mood of Sasha’s mad dash to the lake at the start of the story.
To the Lake - Kitka
As far as other music, the songs I had on loop while writing were folk songs from different areas of the region. Le Mystère des Voix Bulgares, volume III, from The Bulgarian State Television Female Choir has got to be the most on loop music of them all though. I can almost hear them in my sleep at this point!
Here are some of those below:
Svatba (The Wedding) - Bulgarian State Television Female Choir
Solo Gousli - Stars of St. Petersburg
Kukułeczka - Mazowsze
Two Guitars - Andreyev Balalaika Ensemble
Echo of the steppes - Ukrainian Bandurist Ensemble
Whether you want to talk about monster folklore, monster fuckery, or have any monster folk songs recs, you can find Bam Stroker on their tumblr! Or if you’d like to peruse their erotic tomes, you can find them on itchio ✨💀✨
#wlw books#booklr#lgbt books#book recs#sapphic books#diverse books#fantasy#paranormal#rusalka#bam stroker#music
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The Swan and the Crow
Part 1
Donnie was feeling pretty good about himself. The last few days had been good days. He found his theory board, listened to the messages on his bracelet and every day he had managed to recognise his brothers. He even remembered bits and pieces from the the last three days for sure, maybe from a little further back.
The only real downside was that Leo hadn’t visited in that time. Donnie knew that for certain because on the first day he could remember things, Raph had asked if Leo had been over to visit yet. Mikey had asked the second day and April had asked on the third day. Something was wrong with Leo and Donnie hadn’t found the courage to ask what.
“Evening, Donnie!” Raph was cheerful as always when he came through the doorway. Something was wrong, though. He was tense and his smile was forced. “How are you?”
“Hi Raph.” Donnie wandered one to the water’s edge. He wasn’t even in the mood for dancing with how worried Raph seemed to be. “What’s wrong? You seem upset.”
Raph’s smile wobbled, then he sighed and rubbed his head. “Raph is not okay,” he admitted. “Has Leo been around to see you? You remember who he is, right?”
“My twin,” Donnie nodded. Well, now was as good a time as any. “I can remember most of the last few days, actually. Things are… clearer. And you guys have all been asking about Leo. What’s happened?”
Raph’s face lit up with hope, then it dropped and he sighed, rubbing his face. “Leo’s been missing for the last few days. No one’s seen him and his tracker is offline.” Donnie froze. Leo was missing? And they couldn’t use the internal trackers to find him? “We had hoped he was with you, or that he’d come to see you.”
“How long has he been gone?” Donnie asked after a moment. This couldn’t be happening. Donnie needed to help find his brother as quickly as possible, but he couldn’t leave his Lake for longer than a few hours and he still wasn’t totally familiar with the set up of his tech. God, he was going to be so useless here!
“Three days.” Exactly when Donnie’s memories started sticking around better. Oh no.
“Hey Raph. Hey Donnie.” Mikey appeared nearby, peering around Raph with a worried expression. “I’m guessing Raph told you about Leo?” Donnie nodded and Mikey sighed. “Barry and I can’t even find him with magic. It’s like he’s just… gone.”
A gentle fog rolled over the Lake, pale and beautiful in the moonlight. But the moon, which had so often felt like a spotlight to Donnie’s dances and performances, seemed to be focused elsewhere. Music seemed to start from nowhere, a soft melody that compelled Donnie back to the center of the lake. Something was coming.
“Donnie? Donnie, what’s wrong?” Mikey asked, rushing to the edge of the lake. Donnie felt the music swirl around his youngest brother. It didn’t touch him, though, he couldn’t hear it. That didn’t mean Donnie was the only person who could hear the music.
“There’s another dancer.” Even if Donnie’s voice was soft, he knew it carried.
“Another dancer? Who? I thought you were the Lake Guardian!” Raph cried. Donnie could feel his biggest brother on the water’s edge. Normally that would annoy him, no one was allowed in the lake without his permission, but with the fog rolling across the water’s surface Donnie couldn’t find it in himself to care.
“They’re not from the Lake. They’re from the Forest.” The Forest was dangerous, full of evil magic that wanted the power Donnie was there to protect. One of the forces must have found a willing victim. “They’re the reason I’m the Guardian. I need to protect my Lake from them.”
“Othello!” A powerful voice called from the fog. No. No he couldn’t have— there was no way— “You have something that my father wants.” Leo walked out from the fog, en pointe and in a black tutu made of black feathers. His was more revealing than Donnie’s, with an open bodice and highlights of red littered throughout. Leo’s skin was darker and his stripes now ended with small spirals where before they were sharp. “I’m here to get it from you so we can bring you home once and for all.” Leo’s voice was off. He didn’t sound like himself. And his expression was cold and distant, haughty almost. There was no familiar, comforting blue mask on his face, only a single black feather pinned the the back of his head.
Leo had allied himself with the Crow. And that meant that Donnie had no choice. He had to fight his brother.
@tangledinink @dryad-druid
Part 3
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you are quietly organizing a weekend away with some close friends at a rented lake side cabin. For environmental reasons you all choose to arrive in separate cars, and as Fred pulls up you remark, "looks like everyone's here now! Time for the real fun to begin"! Peter, standing behind you on the deck, lets out a grunt and looks confused. Paul, who was inside but has very well trained ears pops out of the kitchen door. "All? what about Chugs? isn't Chugs coming?" Paul asks, while Peter and Fred look at you like perplexed pups.
He speaks again, "Chugs always comes to the weekend getaways with the guys! Didn't you invite Chugs?" You knew this was coming, you had planned your piece but you still weren't ready for what suddenly felt like way to bright a spotlight. "Ch-Chugs isn't c--coming" you manage to stammer out "i didn't.... want him to, okay?"
"Why?" Peter asks, genuinely confused. Fred rolls his eyes and Paul turns his head. "WHy?" your voice begins to rise "WHY?" you start to feel the anger boiling in you again "Because LAST time we had CHUGS with US" you are screaming now "HE DRANK THE ENTIRE FUCKING LAKE, THE WHOLE THING, IN ONE GO, ON THE FIRST AFTERNOON." your heart is racing "I DIDNT GET TO GO SWIMMING EVEN ONCE. NOT A SINGLE FUCKING TIME, THATS WHY" you can feel the blood flowing to your face, feel how red you've gotten thinking about it all again.
You're three friends just stare at you, time seeming to stand still. No wind rustles the leaves in the trees, no birds sit on the branches singing for their mates. in this moment the four of you are perfectly alone, perfectly in tableau, waiting for someone, anyone to speak. Finally, an exhalation, Fred had been holding his breath since he stepped out of the car because he couldn't remember if air was still breathable in the country side or if it was more like the moon. He gasps for air, laboriously at first, but it quickly steadies out as he realizes the air is lovely and the breeze is divine.
He looks at you and speaks "I don't think that's really your call. Badlands Chugs is a friend of all of ours, its not like, up to you to decide whether he gets to spend time with us, besides you knew he had to film that weekend and you wouldn't give him any of your 2 liters so what else was he going to even do? that was a dick move man, for real".
Fred, now walking towards the cabin pushes past you on the stairs you were standing on the whole time and goes up to Peter and Paul. For the rest of the weekend you are ignored by your once close good friends. Sure they would acknowledge when you spoke to them directly, or asked for life saving first aid advice, but overall, the spark of friendship, the comradery wasn't there. The love you had between you and your friends was gone.
After the weekend you started texting them all less and less. You weren't sure if it was just because their responses were getting shorter and shorter if you felt like you just had less and less to say. You still saw Badlands Chugs around sometimes, He never did find out about the weekend you went up to the cabin without him, so he still treated you pretty well. But you knew what you did, you knew the wool you pulled over his eyes wouldn't stay there for ever. So you drifted away from him too, the last friend you had. The last person you felt like really wanted anything to do with you. All because you didn't want Badlands Chugs to drink another lake again.
You are the asshole.
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The stars glittered like tiny crystals in the sky as the moon cast its ethereal glow across the enchanted lake, casting a spotlight upon a solitary figure clothed in a white feathered dress dancing along its surface. Her feet glided across the water as if she was floating on air in a dance that arose from the depths of her soul. For it was only through this nightly ritual that she felt just a small taste of freedom... Freedom that she had lost many moons ago under the same starlight that now taunted her through the lake's prison bars. She was a bird locked in a cage with no hope of escape. Though a small part of her wondered if perhaps some day, freedom might find her?
After several days of pouring my heart and soul into this piece, it's finally finished! It isn't perfect. But if I want to have any hope of finishing Sonictober on time I can't work on it forever. I just have to make notes for next time so I can continue to improve. I combined the prompts Starlight, Locked, and Lake for this. I took a lot of inspiration from Swan Lake and the official Sonic Channel art of Shadow and Maria for the rendering, atmosphere, and colors!
#sonictober 2023#sonictober#amy rose#amy rose fanart#sonic fandom#sonic art#sonic the hedgehog#sonic#sonic fanart#fanart
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