* FAIRY / TALES !

THE FAIRY. chipped nail polish. glitter highlight. tall trees with smooth bark. tangled hair. the taste of cinnamon sugar. talking too loud and too fast. overgrown flowers in your hair. crumbling buildings reclaimed by nature. flirting. walking home at 3am with no coat. platonic hand-holding. blowing smoke out of your nose. dragonfly wings. chaotic good. freckles. fairy rings. secret meetings. gender nonconformity. leather. smudged eyeliner. forbidden fruit.

THE REAPER. computer errors. a shiver down your spine. haunting beauty. hard liquor. crowns of thorns. shadowed alleyways. decaying plant matter. shattered mirrors and broken glass. corrupted memories. stopped clocks. the scent of stale cigarettes. tattered black hoodies. walking your friends home. the crescent moon. the sea. a graveyard on a foggy day. cold rings on cold fingers. absolution. looking out the window of an airplane. soft kisses.

THE WITCH. graffiti. pretending to know what you’re doing. worn paperback books. growing up too fast. parsley, sage, rosemary, and thyme. lace and combat boots. moth wings. candles on every surface. a weathered deck of cards. turning the music up. fireflies in jars. calloused fingers. drawing on your skin. sunlight filtering through clouds. petrichor. a dying rose in a jar. wearing a crystal pendant. illusions and spells. black cats. mint gum. chapped lips. dirt under your fingernails. the cycle of life and death.

THE WOLF. murders of crows. frost-bitten leaves. wolves howling at midnight. knocking on your door. leaving food out for stray animals. the twang of an acoustic guitar. honey. tiny red buds on trees. claw marks on the walls. golden eyes. slightly too long stubble. sharp canines. soft, thick fur. hunger. a small cottage in the middle of the woods. knitted fingerless gloves. sleeping on the forest floor. always finding your way back home.

@aefintyr​ :   have a drink with me.

𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝚒𝚜   𝚊   𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏   𝚊𝚝   𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛   𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 .   [ better   not   let   him   in ! ]   GROWL ,   SCRATCH ,   &   HOWL !   the   beast’s   claws   are   slick   with   blood ,   maw   gaping ,   hot   &   slavering .   [ 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊   𝖜𝖆𝖘   𝖆   𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑 ,   𝖆𝖓𝖉   𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊   𝖜𝖆𝖘   𝖆   𝖜𝖔𝖑𝖋 . ]   &   here   is   a   man ,   &   the   man   smiles   a   horrible   smile ,   a   terrible   smile ,   &   stares   at   the   girl   with   hungry   eyes .   ❛ a   butterbeer ,   then . ❜   lock   up   your   daughters ,   lock   your   doors .   𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭   𝐢𝐧𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐞   𝐭𝐡𝐞   𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟   𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 .   but   the   door   is   open ,   &   the   hearth   is   warm .   she   beckons   for   him   to   cross   the   threshold ,   welcomes   him   with   open   [ … ]   arms .   𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎   𝚒𝚜   𝚊   𝚠𝚘𝚕𝚏   𝚊𝚝   𝚢𝚘𝚞𝚛   𝚍𝚘𝚘𝚛 :   there   is   a   wolf   in   your   bed ,   panting ,   drooling ,   never   satisfied .   ❛ –––––– or   should   we   skip   straight   to   the   fucking ? ❜  

meme   /   accepting

If the offer is both an alcoholic olive branch of sorts and an excuse to thoroughly disturb her brother with the knowledge of inviting Fenrir Greyback into their home, then who can blame her for trying to kill two birds with one stone?

It's certainly easier than killing a wolf.

But that doesn't mean it's not without its risks or consequences. The consequence of letting a man like Fenrir Greyback in is the man himself, alongside all of the fraught tension hanging in the air between them, sexual or otherwise.

Of course, he cuts through it like a knife.

She goes still, discarding the quip she was about to make. He said this isn’t a game, but what else could it be? It takes her a moment to wipe the surprise from her face and then she turns, cocking her head at his burning eyes and his smile.

STEEL

A ruler of steel leads their people with strength and determination. They are renowned throughout the lands for their dedication to their people and their high levels of ambition. They have opponents, and many whisper about their ruthlessness. However, it cannot be denied that a ruler of steel cares for their people and their kingdom, and aims to always rule them with strength and with success.

he   charges   through   the   woods ,   like   he’s   been   preparing   for   this   all   his   life      this   is   a   game   ——   predator   and   prey ,   and   she   is   the   prey ,   and   he   can   smell   her .   so   close .   oh ,   so   delicious .   i   do   love   the   softness   of   the   skin .   soft   skin   and   soft   moonlight .   without   thinking ,   without   warning ,   he   lets   out   another   howl ,   lets   it   ring   in   the   air   as   he   leaps ,   claws   outstretched ,   reaching   for   her :   reaching   for   his   prize .   finally ,   after   all   this   time ,   after   all   this   teasing   ——   he   might   have   her   for   his   own ,   not   squirming   under   him   but   between   his   claws ,   shredded   to   pieces   and   bleeding   out   between   his   teeth .   oh ,   what   he   wouldn’t   give   to   taste   her . 

and   then   he’s   falling ,   paralyzed ,   his   legs   no   longer   pounding   the   forest   floor ,   claws   no   longer   ripping   through   empty   air ,   but   frozen ,   locked   in   place ,   and   his   body   hits   the   ground   with   a   thud .   he   growls ,   the   sound   of   a   forest   raging ,   the   sound   of   a   curse   biting   back ,   and   turns   his   eyes ,   the   only   part   of   him   that   will   still   move ,   onto   the   retreating   figure   of   alecto   carrow .   bloodshot ,   angry   ——   hungry .   he   growls ,   again .   there’s   no   howl ,   no   whine .   just   a   snarl ,   all   animal .   her   magic   might   have   bound   him   for   a   moment ,   but   she   cannot   hold   this   spell   forever ,   and   if   he   wasn’t   angry   before ,   he   is   now .

Alecto breathes out a laugh, half out of relief, half out of triumph; all hysterical.

It’s a satisfying sight to see him immobile on the ground, trapped inside his own body for the moment. Better than some of the reactions she’s managed to taunt or tease out of him. He may growl all he likes but she has the upper hand right now, and she intends to take full advantage of it. She stands straighter now, more sure. Surely he didn’t expect her to just roll over, did he? 

“You know, I must admit, Greyback,” Alecto says, still a little breathless, lips pulling up into a half-smile. “You look much better like this. It’s a good look.”

She still points her wand at the wolf, lowering it ever so slightly. His gaze is furious but she meets it all the same. The teeth were the problem. Sure, being clawed to death by a gigantic beast didn’t sound like much fun and Alecto didn’t intend to die here tonight, in the middle of nowhere. But she also didn’t intend to turn into a werewolf tonight, not if she could help it. No matter how much Greyback would enjoy it, wolf or no wolf. A choice, then.

Wait and try to incapacitate him again; rinse and repeat until the sun comes up. Or run, as fast she can, until the spell wears off and Alecto has to defend herself again.

“I play dirty, you know that. I think you like it, sometimes,” she starts, not sure if he can understand her or not. It’s not important. “But I also play to win.” Game or no game, she’s not about to lose now. Her whole life has been about winning, whether scraps of her father’s love or Wizard’s chess; whether breaking a person’s mind or climbing the Ministry’s ladder.

a     grin    lights     up     his    features ,     but     when    a     wolf     smiles ,     it’s    never     out     of     joy .    it’s     in     the    moment     he     knows    he’s     about     to    sink     his     teeth    into     warm ,     bloody    flesh .     ‘ your     daddy’s    got     nothing     on    me . ’     it’s     whispered ,     like    a     the     restrained     breath    of     a     lover    moments     before     the    release .     ‘ but     i    think     you     are     desperate . ’     his    breath     is     hot ,    her     skin     so    soft ;     he     can     smell    her ,     every     bit    of     her :     her    fear ,     her     lust .     she    thinks     he     would    like     nothing     more    than     to     fuck    her :     she’s     right    about     that     ——    every     part     of    him     aches     for    her ;     he     is    a     man ,     after    all     ( he     is    a     beast ,     after    all )     &     there    is     no     instinct     more    pervasive .     but     after    all     they     have    been     through     together ,     after    everything     ——     she    is     a     witch    &     a     pureblood ,     but    what     does     that    mean ,     all     told ?     even    in     the     dark    lord’s     world ,     he    could     tear     her    limb     from     limb ,    tear     all     of    them     apart ,     leave    a     trail     of    blood     &     vengeance     streaked     across    this     world     like    a     black     curse    before     anyone     could    stop     him .     &     what    does     it     all    mean ,     then ,     voldemort ?     no    spell     can     reawaken     the    dead .     he’d     feed    on     the     corpses    of     the     dark    lord’s     followers     before    anyone     had     a    chance     to     stop    him ,     devour     them    all     ——     if     he    wanted     to .     as    it     is ,     he’d    rather     bide     his    time .     wait     for    their     victory     ——    their     joint     victory .     his    breath     is     short ,    sharp ,     excited .     his    teeth     are     bared ,    close     enough     to    nip     her     skin    ——     &     he    does ,     teeth     grazing    her     ear .          ‘ don’t     play    coy     now ,     girly . ’     she    knows     who    he     is ,     &     what    he     is .     there    is     only     so    long     they     can    scuffle     before     one    gives     in ,     &    he     is     sure    it     will     not    be     him .

Her smirk falters then falls entirely.

It's an effort to stay still, forcing herself to ignore the pressure of his teeth scraping against her skin and his voice rumbling low directly into her ear. Alecto manages it, of course she does, but it's still an effort. Her gaze drifts past his shoulder, fixed on a point somewhere off in the distance; pointedly not looking at him. She swallows back a shiver. Her fingers are still wrapped around his wrist, nails still digging in, but it hasn't deterred him in the slightest.

"Oh, Greyback," she says, light and even, "But I'm not the only one playing here, am I?"

It's hardly a new reaction, but it hasn't been taken quite this far before. And despite herself, she's still intrigued, still wants more. Always more, always wanting. The ashes of her fury minutes ago leaves a bitter aftertaste in her mouth, before she remembered better. Alecto still doesn't trust herself around him, still doesn't trust him, but trust is hardly a factor at the moment. Not when she's got a wolf breathing down her neck. Not when she's still right here.

"You can think what you like, it still doesn't mean it's true." She lets go of his wrist then, her hand falling to her side. He's closer than he's ever been, and that’s saying something. “Or real.”

She won't give him the satisfaction. That's not what this game is about, and even if it was she still wouldn't. Because to admit that she's desperate is to give something up, and leverage is all she has over him. He can’t be controlled. And unlike Lestrange or Yaxley, she doesn’t intend to get herself killed or worse trying. Alecto finally turns to face him and her eyes deliberately trail over every inch of his filthy, bloody, savage body. The fear in her veins is a faint hum.