#LET HIM SURVIVE ROUND 1 AT LEAST

[aethon-recs]

40 Tomarrymort Recs for 2024 — Longfic Edition (Part 3)

Part 3 of 2024 recs! See below for a round-up of some of the most engaging multi-chaptered works/longfics that I came across in this ship in 2024 🤍

As with last year, I found each of these fics, in their depiction of the ship, to be a fresh or surprising take on our familiar beloved characters of Harry and Tom|Voldemort, with an emphasis on underrated fics and/or fics that made me think about the ship in some new way. It's amazing to me that even after 20+ years of writing in this ship, there are still so many new themes and tropes and angles to explore. 

Criteria for this list: multi-chaptered, Tomarrymort-centric, with at least 1 update published in 2024. 

Overall, for 2024, I've split up my year-end recs into 3 parts: (1) Completed Multi-Chapter Fics, (2) One-Shots, (3) WIPs. Here’s the link back to Part 1: Completed Multi-Chapter Fics with 30 fics and Part 2: One-Shots with 30 fics. And with these 40 fics, this wraps up 100 recs for Tomarrymort for 2024!

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a cool drink of water by @zolpidem105 (E, 10k, WIP)

Harry Potter, an apprentice at Police Scotland, wakes up to find he’s not in his bed.  "Awake? Excellent. We should get going," Tim?—Tom—says from the side, sounding far, far too alert for what Harry feels is catastrophically early in the morning.

A Simple Request by @shyinsunlight (E, 70k, WIP)

Harry can't sleep because of his neighbours' constant fighting, and he ends up falling asleep at work. Tom Riddle, CEO, is not particularly happy.

Accidents happen by @themothatyourdoor (T, 51k, WIP)

Harry must have been London's first accidental sugar daddy.

And the Living Will Envy the Dead by @k-s-morgan (M, 114k, WIP)

When Tom looks at Harry, he feels nothing. Until he does, and then Harry’s world starts drowning in blood.

Anytime, Anywhere, Always by @moontearpensfic (E, 30k, WIP)

Tom expects to feel victorious at his greatest enemy's confession. Instead, he develops a crush on him.

Auror Potter by @albondiguilla007 (E, 21k, WIP)

Harry Potter is done. He's been in the past for months now, working undercover. Enter Tom Riddle. Impulse control has never been a strong suit of Harry’s, and this mission is proving to be the most difficult one yet.

By Any Means by @corpium (E, 101k, WIP)

Harry Potter will do anything to protect his little brother, whether that means facing the Dursleys' wrath, dogging his brother's footsteps, or taking down the Dark Lord himself. Absolutely anything.

Crush by @chiocchi (T, 4 chapters, WIP)

Tom Riddle doesn't know what it's like to have a crush. So when his heart starts beating fast every time he sees Harry Potter, it can only mean one thing: His instincts are telling him that Harry Potter is a threat that must be eliminated.

Do It Over by @marrythemonstersao3 (T, 57k, WIP)

Harry wakes up on the morning of his eleventh birthday, ready to do things differently this time. He has no grand plans, just the instinct to be close to the man whose soul he shares.

draw me after you (let us run) by @toast-ranger-to-a-stranger (E, 287k, WIP)

“Harry Potter,” comes the soft, sibilant hiss of a voice he has heard in his dreams, in his nightmares, in his waking hours for years. “It seems I have finally caught you.” 

Echoes by @dracomort (M, 4k, WIP)

Across a thousand worlds, Harry and Tom find each other.

Embryo by @cannibalinc (NR, 112k, WIP)

This is Tom’s destiny, a King among men. No—a god. He need only rise to that which is his for the taking… if only one strange boy weren’t so determined to get in his way.

Hole in the Wall by @elddrmot (E, 77k, WIP)

Voldemort survives the final battle and is imprisoned in Azkaban. After a series of unfortunate events, Harry Potter ends up in the cell next to him.

Ills of Murder by @shadow-of-the-eclipse (M, 90k, WIP)

Harry Potter is a time-travelling, furious mess, and he is going to kill the Dark Lord. Like most of his plans, things do not work out. Tom should not be so obsessed with his would-be murderer.

Liquida Tenebris (Remastered) by @dymis (E, 595k, WIP)

When Harry Potter cast his first Cruciatus Curse, he was successful. In doing so, he awoke the darkness in his head. It whispers, and it's never wrong. The darkness is hungry, and won’t be denied.

Moon Rite by @isalisewrites (E, 15k, WIP)

Voldemort learned the truth: Harry was his horcrux. With a sudden offer of a ceasefire, the decades long war could be over - lives saved and protected - if Harry swore to one agreement: a magically binding marriage contract with Voldemort himself.

No Glory by @obsidianpen (E, 313k, WIP)

The Dark Lord divines what Harry Potter is in the Forbidden Forest, and revelations lead to incomprehensible consequences. Lord Voldemort has won... and the dystopia is damning.

Of Kings, of Pawns, and of Men by @ambivalens999 (E, 166k, WIP)

When Harry succumbs to dementors in Little Whinging, the last thing he expects is to wake and find Tom Riddle’s face staring back at him in the mirror. It only goes downhill from there.

of various storms and saints by MaidenMotherCrone (E, 36k, WIP)

“I am the last Lector. I am my people’s very last hope,” Harry bites out through the teeth of his fury. He is done throwing curses and spells. He is reduced to this, divine rage.  And then, Voldemort is there, looming and dark and great and terrible. “And I will stamp it out.”

One Year In Every Ten by @saintsenara (E, 207k, WIP)

A decade after the final battle, just when the wizarding world thinks itself safe, a serial killer emerges, leaving a trail of dead women in his wake. Each of the bodies bears a gruesome message for the Aurors. A message which claims the Dark Lord has risen again.

Reckless Cartography by @meles-merrivale (M, 39k, WIP)

Featuring Harry and Tom attending Hogwarts together and slowly ruining each other’s lives.

Revolution of Configured Stars by @tollingreminiscentbells (E, 162k, WIP)

In another world, Harry Potter was spared. Raised in Lord Voldemort's Britain, he enters his seventh year wanting to keep his head down. But after a chance encounter with ‘Marvolo Gaunt’, it looks like it may not be so simple.

Saint Harry by @alenablack @chaos-bear (E, 70k, WIP)

The moment Harry is struck by the killing curse, it’s not death that awaits him, but ascension. A story of faith, obsession, and the burden of divinity.

Seaforth by @kippipies (M, 10k, WIP)

For as long as he can remember, Harry's had a normal life, looking after a precocious child named Tom on an isolated island. But everything in his normal life is shattered when he finds out a terrible truth: that a powerful leader called Voldemort is after him.

Seeing Sand by @valkyrie-chemist (T, 95k, WIP)

Anticipation bubbled in Tom’s stomach as he imagined fear and shock Harry’s green eyes. Eyes that snapped open the instant Tom's hand touched the frame of the hospital bed. Eyes that burned gold.

some like it hot by @duplicitywrites (E, 12k, WIP)

When Tom Riddle applies for an internship at the Ministry of Magic, he is assigned to the Department of Magical Fire Control and Containment, a department that boasts a very impressive headcount of one: Harry Potter.

Strings of Fate by @solelyseeking (E, 58k, WIP)

“When I touch you,” Tom says, bitterness clinging to every syllable, “I feel whole.” Harry might just be the first interesting thing that Tom has ever encountered.

Stygian by @crowcrowcrowthing (E, 71k, WIP)

There's a book in Voldemort's private library that can explain this kind of magic. The cover is black and shiny and looks like it's breathing. Harry really wants to take a look at chapter three, no matter what it takes.

Tender Reigns Our Night by noumena (M, 103k, WIP)

Sent on a Ministry mission to fight for magic's survival, Harry goes back in time with two simple objectives: find and destroy any existing Horcruxes, and stop Tom Riddle ever evolving into Voldemort. Harry thus finds himself working alongside Riddle at Borgin and Burke's.

The Longing by @aglassroseneverfades (M, 41k, WIP)

What is possibly most damning of all is that Harry is not thinking of his parents right now as he trudges alongside his companions up to Voldemort’s eerie castle. He is thinking instead, as he often does, of a name that burns too brightly on his wrist in the pre-dawn light.

The Runemaster by @kazisstillawake (E, 43k, WIP)

Harry trips on a rock and leaps through time. 1940s Hogwarts is very different from the home he is familiar with. To make matters worse, he is dumped into Slytherin – Riddle’s territory. But it’s hard to be invisible when you’re a novelty, a new student that knows too much for your own good.

the stars, my destination by @milkandmoon-ao3 (E, 47k, WIP)

Harry is sent through time to the relative safety of 1963 and adopted into the Potter family. Now he’s entering his sixth year at Hogwarts in 1976, with a war brewing just outside the school walls. The last thing he needs is to catch the attention of the rising Dark Lord.

The Unintentional Consequences of Prison Reform by @badluck (E, 28k, WIP)

Harry Potter, newly licensed Mind Healer, puts personal history aside to take on his hardest job yet. “Talk to me, please. Give me a chance to make you better.” Lord Voldemort looks downright murderous.

The Word of Your Body by @ictyn (E, 7k, WIP)

“Have you heard from him?” Albus asks. He only means one person when he asks Harry this question. He’s asked it five times in twenty years, and the answer is always the same. The only thing he knows about Tom is that he’s not dead. Harry would know if that happened. He’d feel it beating inside his heart, inside of his very soul.

Timeless by @perhaps-sunlight (E, 3k, WIP)

In which Master of Death Harry Potter time travels to the 1940s, only fixing Tom Riddle isn’t quite what he had in mind.

To the Hilt by @izharmilgram (E, 28k, WIP)

Voldemort had trusted him with the task of bringing Prince Gryffindor under his control, thus securing the future of Gryffindor within their hands. Tom would do so easily—the prince was a mere omega, docile and sweet, easily swayed—and then Gryffindor Kingdom would be folded into the Slytherin Dynasty. He would prove himself undoubtedly useful, and Voldemort would finally let him rule at his side.

Venom or Valor by @lightningant (M, 52k, WIP)

20 years old and unemployed, Harry decides to use a time turner to travel to 1946. But what he finds isn’t the proud, charismatic Dark-Lord-To-Be, but a neurotic 19-year-old Tom Riddle living quietly in the tiny flat that his retail job barely pays for, isolated and addled by chronic illness.

we made universes out of bitten lips and broken hands by @boyneptunee (M, 68k, WIP)

Seer Harry who tries to write his own future, fuck prophesies and mastermind darklords and evil teachers. He will live his life, and he will enjoy it, dammit. Oh, and there's also Tom Riddle.

What In Me Is Dark, Illumine by @telelli-writes (M, 80k, WIP)

There was a new transfer student, Tom observed at the Start-of-Term Feast as he idly twisted the Gaunt ring around his finger. Featuring a schoolboy on the precipice of becoming a monster, a powerful and mysterious newcomer to Hogwarts, and an initial spark of interest that becomes an obsession.

With a resolute heart by Act_Naturally (M, 243k, WIP)

Triwizard Tournament, but Hunger Games: Tom Riddle needs to win to fulfill his plans. Cedric Diggory wants to make his family proud. Hermione wants her friends to survive. Harry wants a lot of things, including Tom Riddle. 

you speak of the devil (like he's not your friend) by @amuria (M, 64k, WIP)

When Harry wakes a seventeen-year-old Tom Riddle from the Gaunt's Ring, it is to a world where his future self has achieved none of their goals except one. Harry is proof that he's a great wizard after all.

*

[kumkaniudaku]

Stay A While

Summary: Terry's back home and trying to make amends with an old friend.

Pairing: Terry Richmond x Black!OC

Word Count: 3,944

Part: 1 of ??

Warnings and Notes: None. This one's a safe for work slow burn. Enjoy.

Drunk minds speak sober thoughts. Or at least Terry hoped that was the case as his thumb hovered over a familiar name in his contact list. A dingey hole in the wall became a haven on the tail end of his journey back to some sense of normalcy. He was down a bike, a truck, and a piece of his heart but continued to press on until fatigue forced him to stop for rest. The owner, a small woman with a big voice noticed his rough appearance as he passed by on foot and invited him inside to duck an incoming storm. She wouldn’t take no for an answer, even when he repeated that he had ground to make up before nightfall.

When she asked if he needed help he politely and foolishly declined all but a glass of brown liquor and access to an outlet. That same whiskey and a sprinkle of Motown-era love songs playing on a rickety jukebox had broken a grown man down enough to reach out to the one person who might still be willing to take him in. Even if only for a night.

Searching for extra courage, Terry took another sip of lukewarm Jack Daniels before tapping his phone screen. The line rang once, twice, and then a third time before a short pause signaled the call had connected. 

The silence on the other him was loud, forcing him to speak up first. 

“Hello?”

Fading voices and shuffling in the background were the only indicators of a presence on the other line, making Terry feel embarrassed for starting a call in the first place. 

He cleared his throat before speaking again. “Hey, look… if now’s not a good time I ca -” 

“Terrence? Did you mean to call me?” 

“I, uh…yeah. I did. I’m sorry. I should’ve -” 

“Are you okay? It’s loud wherever you are. You good? You hurt?” 

“I could tell you if you would give me a chance to answer,” he chuckled. His amusement made her kiss her teeth in annoyance. “I’m okay. I’m a little banged up, but I’ve seen worse. I’m somewhere between Charlotte and home. Stopped in this spot for a drink and somewhere to sleep for the night.” 

“And what does that have to do with me?” 

Terry took another swig of whiskey and sighed. “Nothing, really. I was hoping I could see you, though. You know, when I make it back tomorrow.”

“You staying anywhere when you get here?” 

“Not yet, but I’ll find somewhere. I know how to survive.”

“TJ…,” More silence. Thick. Long. Full of tension and years of baggage that they had yet to discuss. The other voice sighed before answering. “Come on by. I’ll have the back room ready for you. You need toiletries?” 

Terry’s face softened into a near smile at the invitation. “Yes ma’am. A meal would be nice, too.” 

“Okay. I’ll have you something if you can get here before dark tomorrow. Please be safe, Terrence. I mean it.” 

Before he could attempt to extend the conversation, the call ended, leaving her contact photo in full view. Terry allowed a slow grin to spread across his face just as a short text with her address came across the screen. 

“Another round, brother?” 

Terry looked up from his phone to find an expectant expression on the bartender’s face. He shook his head and reached for the wallet in his back pocket. “Nah, but thanks, man. Think I’m gonna close my tab, actually. I gotta see about a bus ticket before it’s too late.” 

“If you heading to her,” the man started, pointing toward Terry’s phone. “you need a cut, man. A lineup. Something. You look like what you been through. If you got $20, I can get you right.” A slight frown and knitted eyebrows in response made the bartender shoot his hands up in surrender. “I don’t want no problems, big dog. I just know what it’s like to see your lady after a hard time. Let me help you.” 

A quick look into the black mirror of his cell phone screen forced Terry to reckon with his appearance. He couldn’t remember his last haircut and his mustache was starting to dwarf his upper lip. He sighed and reached into his back pocket. 

“Extra $10 and you can get the face too?” 

“Extra $20 and I’ll get you where you going myself.” 

------

City noise had long been replaced by suburban quiet by the time Terry’s destination came into view. His friend back at the bar was true to his word and arranged transport that turned a 6-hour journey into 2 hours of UGK on the speakers, a little privacy, and AC on the hottest summer day so far.  

After exchanging pleasantries and cash, Terry stepped out of the cramped Honda onto the smooth driveway pavement. Every house, street sign, and front yard looked exactly as he remembered them, bringing mixed emotions forward.

The short journey to her front step felt arduous for his tired legs, but he persisted until he was mere inches from the front door. He lifted his arms and prepared to knock but stopped short when it swung open unexpectedly. 

“Knocking when I can hear those heavy feet from a mile away is courteous but unnecessary.” 

He chuckled and rubbed a hand down the back of his head. “Good to see you too, Treece.” 

Patrice greeted him with a half smile as she studied his appearance from toe to head. A few years and a little extra weight had done wonders. She settled on his eyes and softened her gaze. “You look good, TJ. Come in here and cool off.”

Stepping inside her home felt like walking into a time capsule. He’d spent so many after-school days and summer nights here that it felt like his childhood home not too far up the road. Photos from yesteryear lined the walls on the way to the living room where nothing had changed except new furniture and a bigger television on the TV stand. The heat from the oven mixing with a slight chill from the air conditioning unit kept the room comfortable enough to nap if he could settle for more than a few minutes. 

Terry’s eyes drifted from his surroundings to Patrice as she led the way. Long braids covered the back of a high school t-shirt and jean shorts. Her brown skin had become golden under the North Carolina sun, making her glow a little in the morning light. Grown woman weight had settled onto her once thin frame, transforming her into a more of a mini version of her mother than before. All the changes he’d imagined when he had a free second were ions better in person.

Patrice gestured toward the leather recliner in the corner without speaking, inviting him to take a seat and settle in on her way to the stove.

They existed without words for a few minutes while she took fresh biscuits out of the oven and arranged them next to sausage patties and an omelet on one of her good porcelain plates. Terry trained his attention on his shoes, trying and failing to find a way to break the ice. He wanted to apologize. Confess his wrongs and desires in one grand speech designed to erase nearly ten years of absence. But the words wouldn’t form in his throat and the moment came and went. 

Balancing a dinner tray in one hand and orange juice in the other, Patrice carefully made her way to his spot in the living room. Seeing her kind eyes calmed his nerves and set his chest ablaze.

“No more pork for you, right? This is chicken sausage from my Nana and them in the country.” She asked as she sat the tray on his lap. 

He nodded in appreciation. “Yeah. You remembered?” 

“You ain’t been gone that long, TJ. I still know who you are and what you like. That orange juice don’t have pulp in it either.” 

“Thank you,” he said sheepishly before hanging his head to pray. 

“Any time.” 

A re-run of A Different World became the only sound in the room outside of an occasional content sigh from Terry as he tore through his breakfast. Patrice watched in amusement until her broad smile caught his attention. He slowed in embarrassment and returned the stare long enough to induce loud laughter from both of them. 

“I look crazy, huh?” 

“No,” she assured with a sweet smile. “You just look like you're happy to be back home, is all. Fayetteville missed you.” 

“All of Fayetteville or someone specific?” 

“Don’t start, TJ.” 

“I’m only asking a question.” He answered without making eye contact. “You know you’re the only one who still calls me that?” 

“What? TJ? That’s your name.” 

“Yeah, but…you know. It’s not 2010 anymore.” 

Patrice shrugged and settled deeper into the couch. “Considering that’s about the last time I saw you in the flesh, I guess it stuck for me. But, I can call you Terrence if you like.” 

“Nah, TJ’s good. I like it. From you…specifically.” 

The pair exchanged equally bashful looks, both too shy to say anything that would incriminate themselves. Instead, they watched the television in silence and stole looks until a commercial break took away their distraction. 

Without speaking, Terry began to gather dishes and stand, prompting Patrice to rush over before he could move too far. 

“Treece, I can do it.” 

“I know,” she answered in a sing-song voice while sliding the tray from his grasp. “But I haven’t done this for you in a while. Let me love on you a little bit.”

His eyes tracked her every move until she was behind him at the kitchen sink. Boyish nervousness made him twiddle his thumbs until words came rushing out like water from a burst pipe as he sat back down.

“So, how you doing? How you been?” 

“I’ve been okay. Mostly work and no play, you know. Thankful to be out of that classroom for a few weeks and get some peace.” 

“Yeah? Kids driving you crazy?” 

“Baby, the kids, their parents, and my parents are driving me to drink,” she laughed. “I can’t catch a break.” 

“What about your man? He driving you crazy?” 

Patrice scoffed and shook her head. Her mama and his mama talked too much. Terry chewed his bottom lip, hoping he didn’t offend. 

“We…aren’t together anymore. Hard to build a family together when he’s off building one across town.” 

Terry craned his neck around the armchair to make sympathetic eye contact. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know that part. I wouldn’t have said anything.” 

“It’s alright. I gave it to God a long time ago. Maybe I’m not meant to be anybody’s wife yet.”

“Maybe you weren’t meant to be his wife.” 

“Well, it’s not like any suitors are knocking down my door for my hand in marriage.” 

“Probably because you keep swinging it open before anybody gets a chance.” 

Patrice rolled her eyes and flashed her middle finger in Terry’s direction. “Ha-ha. I see you didn’t lose your jokes at Lejeune. Only your ability to keep in touch.” 

Her retort left a shallow cut in Terry’s ego, making him turn his attention back to the television. He knew he’d broken a decades-old promise and that atoning for his sins would take time. But he also knew that, at any moment, Patrice could send him back into the world with nothing more than a full belly and a swift kick in the ass. He had to tread lightly. 

Taking the lull in conversation as his opportunity to lick his wounds in private, Terry stood and gathered his belongings in both hands. Patrice watched him from her spot with an apologetic expression. 

“You don’t have to leave. Got a couple errands to run so it’ll be quiet in here. Take the whole couch if you want.” 

“That’s alright, but thank you. Figure I can make myself useful and cut the yard. Maybe unpack some of this stuff if that’s alright with you. You got a mower?” 

“Yeah, it’s back there,” she answered, gesturing toward the backyard with her head. “Will you be here when I get back?” 

Sensing the hidden motivation behind her question, Terry dropped his bag to the ground and made his way into the kitchen. Cautiously, he leaned down to press a short kiss to Patrice’s forehead before using his index finger to tilt her head upward and meet his eyeline. “Yes. I promise. You don’t need to worry about me.” 

Her eyes fluttered closed for a half second while she nodded her understanding. A wave of relief made the hair on her arms stand at attention but she quickly bit back any urge to engage further. 

“You looked tired when you got in,” Patrice started, turning her back to Terry to conceal her flustered face. “I cleared Junior’s old bed back there. It’s a little small but sturdy. The sheets are fresh. Let me know if you need more blankets. I like it cold at night.” 

“I’ll survive, girl. I’ve slept in worse places than a full-sized bed. Thank you.” 

A split second of hesitation kept their eyes glued to one another until Terry ended the stalemate by backing out of the room and disappearing down the hallway. 

Patrice took his absence as an opportunity to compose herself. Busy hands and racing thoughts fueled a cleaning marathon until tasks that had long fallen to the bottom of her to-do list were crossed off. 

For hours they co-existed without many words exchanged. Occasionally, Patrice would steal glances at Terry while he meticulously tended to the lawn and bushes. When he could, Terry made a point to brush up against her when he walked past and agree with each of her many suggestions. Being in her space was enough for him and he dared not upset the natural harmony. 

By the time dinner rolled around, they had found a groove. A quiet dinner led to an even quieter cleanup shift and quick good nights exchanged after watching Jeopardy together. 

Terry left Patrice to her own devices while he fought to acclimate to such cushy surroundings. Try as he might, he couldn’t get used to the soft mattress below him or the near-frigid temperature in the house. Tossing and turning left him unsatisfied. The walls felt like they were converging. Flashbacks were turning into night sweats. He needed to escape.

Slowly, he slid out of bed and into a pair of slippers Patrice had gifted him earlier in the day. Measured steps help him sneak past her bed bedroom, out of the back door, and down into the backyard without causing a disturbance. 

The early June air was balmy, clinging to the skin beneath his t-shirt. In the distance loud bass from someone’s car speaker vibrated until it was out of earshot. Dogs barked and howled to salute the moon worked in tandem with the faint smell of charcoal cooling from a night of backyard barbecues to remind him that he was far from the trouble of Shelby Springs. 

It’d been a while since he could enjoy the night without being on high alert. The last week was a special kind of hell that he feared he could never shake. The urge to flee was beginning to creep in like the tide, threatening to wash away what little progress he’d made.

After a few deep breaths and mumbled prayer, Terry retreated to a porch swing to rest his weary legs. His shoulders relaxed as soon as his backside met the aged oak and, almost instantly, he felt safe enough to close his eyes. One deep breath turned into another until he was drifting into his first peaceful sleep in weeks. 

Minutes passed like seconds. Thoughts slowed to a halt. His heartbeat regulated. Near bliss was upon him.

Inside, a single lamp flipped on to illuminate Patrice’s path as she searched the house for her guest. His room and bathroom had turned up empty results with almost no sign that he’d been there throughout the day. He wasn’t on the couch or in the kitchen raiding the fridge like she half expected. Worry had all but made her pass out until she heard the slight creak of her swing on the porch, making his head appear and disappear from the window above the sink.

She couldn’t fully open the door before Terry opened one eye and looked in her direction. She froze and he smiled.

“Feet not as heavy as you thought, huh?” 

“Yeah, yeah. If I’d known you trade in a bed for this old thing I wouldn’t have wasted my time on laundry.” 

“Hey, I built this old thing, remember?”

Patrice chuckled at the memory and pointed at the metal chain keeping the swing in place. “Damn near lost a finger behind it, too.”

“Would’ve been worth it knowing you were happy.” Patrice nervously shifted her weight from left to right under Terry’s intense gaze while he took his turn to look her over. Finally noticing her awkwardly standing between the screendoor, he motioned to the spot beside him. “Sit with me for a second.”

Patrice visibly wrestled with her decision but ultimately joined him. They maintained a careful distance, being sure to keep their individual limbs from connecting for fear that the mere sensation would set them ablaze. They played a childish game of cat and mouse until Patrice spoke.

“I was rude earlier,” Patrice confessed while fiddling with the hem of her t-shirt. Terry closed his heavy eyes to cure the burning sensation growing by the minute but acknowledged her statement with a confused grunt. She continued. “I never asked how you were doing. The whole thing about my ex sort of brought up old feelings.” 

He frowned, hurt by her revelation. “You know I wasn’t trying to hurt you, right?” 

“You never are. Same ol’ honorable TJ. Terry, I mean.” 

“TJ for you.” 

Again he popped one eye open and paired it with a grin that disamered Patrice and made her giggle like her high school self. The sound had him resolve that he’d spend his whole life making stupid faces if it meant she’d get some joy from them. 

“You ready to tell me everything I missed or are you content with popping up on my porch? And how long do you plan to be here eating all my food, anyway?” 

“I don’t think you wanna hear that,” he answered in an attempt to dodge the loaded question. Patrice persisted. 

“No, I do. I see the tattoos and the fresh haircut. TJ turned into a man while he was gone. At least let me get to know this new person.” 

“I grew up,” he sighed after some time. “Gained some. Lost a lot. Still trying to pick up the pieces.”

“What’d you lose?” 

“Lately? Money. Family. Shit, my mind.” 

“Why?”

“Mike died.” An abrupt interruption of an already complicated conversation brought forth a long pause. He waited for an interjection but found none, prompting him to offer more details. “He was killed. In jail. I tried to get him out and bring him home but I was too late.” Terry answered without making eye contact. Shame wouldn’t allow him to meet her potential judgment.

Patrice mentally cycled through names and faces until she realized the gravity of Terry’s statement. She reached out to breach their unspoken barrier and grabbed his hand which he accepted with no pushback.

“You wanna talk about it?” 

“Not really,” he answered before squeezing her hand and finally returning her eye contact. “I handled everything. It’s over for now. I’m here with you. We can focus on that.” 

“Even though you keep skipping how long you’ll stay.”

Patrice’s warmth was starting to take a backseat to her cold nature. Old wounds had started to re-open and rebuild a wall they both thought they’d successfully hurdled. Despite her attempt to pull her hand out of his grasp, Terry stayed put. He eyed her for a moment, picking up on a thin veil of tears threatening to form at her water line. 

She watched his normally steely blue-gray eyes soften into something that mirrored the softness he carried when they were kids. She couldn’t find the gumption to look away as he brought her knuckles up to his lips for a set of short kisses before looking back up at her. Pleading. Begging for any indication that she had softened her heart toward him. 

“Treecey, I’m sorry. I don’t know how else to say it. You meant more to me than the way I left and I pray every day for a chance to make it right. We crossed a line that night and I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t handle that like a man should have. I’m sorry until I’m blue in the face.” 

Sincerity was thick in his voice despite his low, even tone. 

Patrice listened without a word. A single tear cascaded down her face despite her valiant attempts to keep her emotions at bay. She swore she’d never cry about Terrence Richmond again. But old habits die hard. 

Terry used his free hand to swipe away that tear and the next one sitting at her lower lash line with the pad of his thumb.

“Say something,” he pleaded. “Anything. Tell me you hate me.” 

“You know I don’t hate you,” she whispered, too choked up to continue without a deep breath. “I…I just feel like you took a piece of me with you, you know? And you never wrote back. You never called. You shut me out like we were never friends. We could’ve gone back to how things were.” 

“I fucked that up.” 

“I’m aware. But that doesn’t mean that I trust you won’t do it again. No matter how much I don’t hate you, I’m not eighteen anymore. My patience is thin. I can’t allow you to turn my world upside down again.” 

“Hand to God I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Yeah. I hope so.” Though she whispered, Patrice’s words sliced through Terry like a hot knife through butter. 

He hung his head in defeat as she pulled her hand from his grasp and made quick work of standing from the bench. Her footsteps retreated past him and to the back door until she paused. 

He looked over his shoulder to find her eyes closed and chin pointed to the sky in contemplative silence. This was it. The final blow. 

She took a deep breath and stared straight ahead. “Stay as long as you want. Junior’s living with his girlfriend now, so nobody’s coming to make you leave. Tomorrow, we can go get you some new clothes. I’m tired of looking at those raggedy t-shirts already.” 

Terry took her jab in stride and gave her a half smile as a sign of compliance. “Yes ma’am. Thank you.” 

“Mhm. Lock the door behind you when you come in.” 

“Good night, Treecey.” His farewell came in an annoyingly sweet voice as a last-ditch effort to drag some loving words from her. Patrice stopped and gave him one more once over and a dismissive eye roll.

He waited for the ghost of a smile that disappeared before he could blink. She shook her head and took a step inside the house.

“Shut up, Terry. Go to bed.” 

Terry hid his amusement until she was out of sight, leaving him alone to grin at how even her rebukes felt like love letters. 

“Shut up,” he repeated to himself as he closed his eyes to doze again. “Hm. I��ll take it.” 

TAGS: @planetblaque

Happy to tag whoever is interested.

[space-mango-company]

Stranger | Chapter 1

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

Summary: The Atreides daughter is sent off to Giedi Prime to marry the Harkonnen heir in an attempt to quell the feuding Great Houses. The bride, however, must prove her grit and earn the respect of her new family if she is to survive her new life. Perhaps she will find that she had more Harkonnen in her than she thought.

TW: none (for now)

Tags: Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!Reader, Arranged Marriage, Eventual Smut (just not in this chapter lmao), No use of y/n, Original Characters, cannon what cannon

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Please bear with me, it has been ages since I've written anything and this is my first ever work of fanfiction. I've never written in the second person before so if you catch any mistakes, especially in verb tenses, please let me know. English is not my first language. Also, this might start out a bit slow but I promise things will pick up soon.

The smell of grass and the crashing waves of Caladan brought you comfort as you stood before the starship that had been rented from the Spacing Guild.

Your brother had insisted on accompanying you to Giedi Prime, but a round trip would have been unnecessarily expensive, even with the vast wealth of your Great House. Besides, it would be foolish to deliver the heir of House Atreides to the home world of their sworn enemies. It was bad enough they had to send you there.

"Give them hell," Paul teased as he hugged you goodbye.

You laughed, but you knew his smile didn't quite reach his eyes. He had faith in your strength and ferocity, but he had much less faith in the hospitality of the Harkonnens.

"I'll miss you," you pull away and try to give him a reassuring smile but you, yourself, are not so certain of your fate.

You made your way to your mother, next in line to bid you farewell.

"Remember your training." Lady Jessica held your face and planted a tender kiss on your forehead. She had already given you all the advice she could.

You take her hands in yours and kiss them. "I will," you tell her solemnly.

You finally make it to your father, whose eyes are already welling with tears.

"My darling princess," his voice cracks as he lays a hand on your cheek. The Duke may seem a stoic man to most, but those who truly knew him knew he had a big heart.

Perhaps it is because you are one of those people that you finally feel that weight in your chest that you've been dreading since the signing of your marriage pact. It will be a truly long time before you would see your family again. If you could ever see them at all.

The Duke waves at an attendant who approaches with a silver tray. Leto takes the dagger resting on it and places it in your hands. "To remind you that you will always be an Atreides, that you will always be my daughter."

You let your tears fall as you hold the gift close to your chest.

"Don't cry now," your father pulls you into a hug, hoping to hide his own tears, "or I might never let you go."

You let a laugh slip through the sobs. You knew it was already decided and it is your duty to fulfill. The Sisterhood and the Emperor himself endorsed the match. Nothing could change it now.

The harsh light of Giedi Prime's black sun assaulted your eyes as you made your way down the starship's gangplank. The stark, high-contrast black and white made everything a pain to look at. You were thankful for the veils of your travelling gowns for providing you at least some shade.

You were greeted by House Harkonnen's steward, Jaromir Naggul, and swiftly led into the imposing, Brutalist fortress of their stronghold. You were almost happy to escape the infrared outside.

"Your belongings are being sent to your new quarters as we speak," Jaromir, a lanky but stately man, informs you. "You may change out of your traveling clothes and rest there. The Baron will receive you in the throne room in the afternoon."

You note his accent and the mild contempt in his voice, as if you were an inconvenience.

"This is Iassa," he gestures to one of the servants that had been following you through the halls. "She is your assigned slave. Should you need anything, you may tell her."

The word almost knocks the breath out of you.

Your eyes turn to Iassa in her pale gray robes, and you give her a polite nod. She hastily curtsies in return.

You knew the Harkonnens and even the Emperor kept slaves, but you suppose it never occurred to you that you would be charged with one yourself.

"Of course," Jaromir continues, "any of the servants in the fortress will be at your command, but Iassa will be in waiting for you in particular."

"Of course," you reply coldly.

"You will be staying in the guest wing for now," Jaromir says as he shows you the door to your quarters. "Of course, until your wedding. When you will then be moved to the na-Baron's apartments."

"...of course," you repeat, grateful again for your veils that they hide your dread.

You are silent as Iassa helps you into a black gown for your audience with the baron. It is the fashionable color in the Harkonnen home world. Although there were many other 'fashionable' traits on Giedi Prime, this was the only one you felt comfortable adopting right now. The complete lack of hair in every individual you had seen was certainly unsettling, but you sensed it would be rude to speak about it.

"What is the na-Baron like?" you ask.

Iassa pauses her fastening of your dress, she swallows. "He is a fearsome warrior, my lady," she keeps her gaze averted, "handsome and popular with the people."

Her voice was shaky but she seemed genuine. You only wonder if those words hold the same implications here as they do back home.

You look over to Iassa as she fetches your shoes. It's not difficult to see that she fears you. You cannot help but feel that that is all there is. You are still an off-worlder. An Atreides no less. She harbors no respect for you.

You take care to style your hair in the fashions of Caladan, fastening a falcon-like pin at the back of your head. The symbol of your house. Perhaps it is a risky choice, to be seen as defiant by the baron should he notice, but you could already feel the black sun beginning to drain the life out of you. The thrill of quiet defiance would have to sustain you for now.

Jaromir returns in time to fetch you and you are led to the throne room.

The baron's grotesque floating body looms over you and his subjects. You had never met any of the Harkonnens before but you were sure that was him.

"Welcome to your new home, Lady Atreides," the Baron utters your last name with thinly veiled loathing. "Let me present my nephew, Feyd-Rautha."

A tall muscular young man steps forward. Stately and regal as a Harkonnen could be, he looks over you with condescending eyes.

He certainly looked like a warrior, and you could see how the people of Giedi Prime could find him handsome, but you find yourself wanting to spit in his face.

"Forgive me for not greeting you when you landed, my lady," the na-Baron bows to you. His gravelly voice sends a chill down your spine, "I was preoccupied at the time. I trust you have settled well?"

You curtsy in turn, "I'm sure my lord had important duties to attend to. I am grateful for your hospitality. My rooms are very comfortable."

"Do not find them too comfortable young lady," the Baron calls from afloat his chair, "your wedding celebrations are to begin and you will be sharing rooms with my nephew before long."

Feyd-Rautha smirks at this and you are almost willing to cast decorum aside to slap it off his face.

"Tomorrow, your groom will take part in the arena to demonstrate his prowess as a worthy husband and leader, as per the traditions of our house," the Baron announces. "I'm sure you will make a point to attend."

"I would not miss it, dear Baron."

Chapter Links: [1], [2], [3], [4], [5]

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Lament for the living

Written for round 1 of the @steddiebingo and for the April 2025 round of the @stmonstercalendar

Prompts: Scream and Banshee

Relationship: pre-Steddie

Words: 1,168 [also on AO3]

Rated: T

Tags: Death and mourning; Irish Steve; Ghost Eddie; Canon-adjacent

Notes: I have no idea what this is but it has acquired a plot again.

Steve first learned about the family ghost on the day he saw his grandpa for the last time. Mom had stepped out of the hospital room to talk to one of the nurses and dad was somewhere downstairs, taking an important business call. Steve, eleven years old and still clinging to the childish hope that things would be alright, made smalltalk for a while, telling grandpa about school and girls and the next big game he had coming up.

“Maybe you could come,” he said. “It's still a few weeks from now, so maybe you'll be fine by then. Maybe you-”

His voice cracked, and grandpa took his hand.

“I'll be there,” he promised. “Even if you won't be able to see me.”

Steve sobbed. “Don't say that. You can't give up like that, you can still make it.”

“No, kid,” grandpa shook his head, gaze shifting to the open window, and suddenly Steve realized how very tired he looked. “It's time for me to go, I know it. I've been hearing it call to me for days now.”

Steve blinked the tears from his eyes, head whipping to the window, but there was nothing there. “What are you- … what's calling you?”

Grandpa smiled and leaned closer, the way he always did when letting him in on one of his stories. The ones about ghosts and spirits that mom didn't like.

“The banshee. It's said that all families from the old country have one. They're spirits guiding our souls from this world to the next. When you start to hear their cries, it means that your time has come.”

Steve should've been too old to believe in fairy tales, but something about the words sent a cold shiver down his spine.

Grandpa died some time that night, quicker and more quietly than the doctors had been expecting. Steve was the only one who wasn't surprised.

*

Steve first starts hearing it around the time Barb disappears. He doesn’t recognize it for what it is at first, and he doesn’t think he can be faulted for that. Sixteen is way too early to expect the herald of your imminent death, for one thing. For another, it sounds nothing like he thought it would.

He was imagining screams and shrieks and wails, a sound to make your blood freeze in your veins and your heart go numb with terror. Instead, it's singing.

A low, raspy voice carrying out of the woods behind the house. There aren't any words to the song - none that Steve can make out, at least - and still there's a beauty and sadness to it that makes his heart clench. He assumes it must be one of the neighbors, and it's only when he mentions the song to Nancy and she looks at him like he's crazy, that it slowly starts to dawn on him that what he's hearing is his own lament.

And so, when the demogorgon peels itself from the ceiling in the Byers house, he grabs a nail bat and starts swinging, because if he's going to die, he might as well die doing something worthwhile. It's what he keeps doing in the years after. Fighting off monsters in the junkyard, throwing himself between Billy Hargrove and the kids, turning himself into a human shield again and again and again. He starts losing count of how many times he comes close to the brink of death. Every time he does, the singing fades for a short while. Every time, it isn't too long before it picks back up again, louder and closer than before.

When it wakes him on an early spring night in 1986, it's just outside his window, and he knows every single note by heart.

He's also goddamn annoyed.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Steve mutters, throwing off the covers and stomping over to the window with a bravado that probably only a person who has unexpectedly survived multiple apocalypses can muster. “Excuse me? You? Yes, you! Are we sure this is it this time around, because it's kind of getting really old!”

The singing stops. A pair of dark, startled eyes gawks at him.

Steve gawks back. He isn't quite sure what he imagined the banshee to look like, but he knows it wasn't this. The guy looks almost shockingly normal. Roughly his own age, with a mop of dark curls falling over bony shoulders and full, pink lips that are now lightly parted in surprise. If Steve saw him in the street, he probably wouldn't give him a second look - if it wasn't for the tattered white shroud he's wearing, and the fact that he is ever so slightly translucent.

“What?” the boy asks after a minute or two.

Steve shakes himself, remembering he's supposed to be mad.

“I said,” he repeats, “are we actually sure I'm gonna snuff it this time, because so far all your yammering has done is give me migraines.”

“No,” the boy says. “I mean … why are you-? You shouldn't be able to see me.”

Steve scoffs. “Uh-huh. And you shouldn't be doing this for four years straight, I'm pretty damn sure, so maybe you just suck at your job.”

“Excuse me?” the boy bristles. “I've been doing this for eight-hundred-and-seventy-two years and this is the first time this has happened. It's not my fault. It's…I dunno, this fucking place. The stupid hellhole under this town is messing everything up.”

“Yeah, tell me about-” Steve starts to say, then pauses. “Wait a sec, you know about the Upside Down?”

The boy huffs.

“Oh, I know everything about you, big boy,” he says, leaning closer on his branch and kicking his naked feet. It's a perfectly innocent statement in and by itself, but something about the way he twirls his hair and wags his eyebrows makes Steve's stomach give a funny flutter.

“Except for when I'm going to die, apparently,” he snaps, noticing with a warm surge of satisfaction how the boy's translucent face flushes. For a few moments, the only sound is that of the wind rustling the leaves. Somewhere in the woods, an owl hoots.

“Anyhow,” Steve says. “I'm going back to bed. I'd appreciate it if you wouldn't wake me again, unless it's an actual, life-threatening-”

“Wait!” He turns. The boy's grin has gone a little manic, his eyes a little desperate. “Why don’t you stay a little longer? We could talk- … I mean, maybe I could help figure this out? Not to brag, but I know a lot about supernatural shit.”

Steve hesitates. If the guy is telling the truth and has been doing this for eight-hundred-and-who-knows-how-many years, maybe he does know something that can help them.

He's also probably pretty damn lonely if Steve’s the only person in all that time who's actually been able to see him.

He heaves a long-suffering sigh.

“Fine, whatever. What do you know?”

Befriending the family ghost sure as hell wasn’t on Steve’s agenda for this year, but he's long learned to roll with the unexpected.

More Steddie Bingo

More monster loving

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 2

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, Mentions of drugs, mentions of court

Sunday came and went in a blur of textbooks, highlighters, and coffee that had turned cold by the time I got round to drinking it. I spent the entire day curled up in my apartment, buried in law casebooks and lecture notes, trying to chip away at the mountain of assignments that had built up over the week. Law school had a way of piling things on without warning, and it was tough to stay on top of everything.

But, despite all the reading and studying, my mind kept drifting to Chris. That stupid accidental like on his Instagram post had spun me for a loop, and no matter how much I tried to push it out of my head, it kept creeping back in. The embarrassment was almost unbearable. Why did it bother me so much? I’d accidentally liked posts before, and it never affected me like this. But this was different. This was him.

Chris Sturniolo, the boy who had practically disappeared from my life without a word. He had just faded away, like a distant memory. And now, years later, I was reminded of him, suddenly thinking about him more than I had any right to. Maybe it was the nostalgia, or maybe it was the curiosity of what had happened to him. Either way, I needed to think about what I had in front of me.

By the end of the night, I was no closer to finishing my assignments, but I had at least made some progress. I pushed my laptop aside and let out a sigh, staring at the ceiling of my room. Tomorrow would be a new day, and I had more important things to focus on, like sitting in on a real courtroom session for class. I needed to be sharp and professional, not distracted by old crushes and awkward social media moments.

I passed out somewhere around 1am, and before I knew it, my alarm was going off and I was dressed and heading out the door, ready to make my way to the Boston Municipal Court. The air was crisp, the chill of fall settling in as I walked through the city streets. My nerves were kicking in, not just because of the courtroom experience I was about to witness, but because of the burning feeling that something was about to shift. I couldn't explain it, but I put it down to anxiety about the court case, how I could see someone's life trajectory change in a matter of moments.

I arrived at the courthouse, its towering stone facade looming over me as I approached. It felt both intimidating and exciting, like I was about to step into a new chapter of my life. This courtroom session was an essential part of my course, and would be continuous over this school year - a real life experience to get a feel for how things worked in the legal world. I was supposed to be focused on the case, taking notes, observing the process, everything a future lawyer would need to know.

But as I stepped inside and found a seat toward the back of the courtroom, my thoughts kept drifting. I couldn't shake Chris from my mind. Why now? Why was he coming up in my thoughts so much? We hadn’t spoken in years, and yet here I was, obsessing over an accidental like on his ghostly Instagram account. It didn’t make any sense. I had so much more to worry about, but the memory of him kept pulling me away from the present.

The courtroom slowly filled with people, lawyers and clerks coming in and out, papers shuffling, the judge already seated high above. I forced myself to sit up straighter, grabbing my notepad and pen, determined to focus. This was important. I couldn’t afford to be distracted.

“The court is now in session” the judge’s voice boomed, commanding attention.

I scribbled the date at the top of my notepad, trying to look engaged, but my thoughts wandered again. Stop it Y/n. 

The prosecutor began introducing the case. My pen hovered over the notepad as I half listened, already feeling my focus slip away. Something about possession, conspiracy to sell, it all sounded so dry compared to the whirlwind going on in my head.

But then, the prosecutor said something that yanked me out of my thoughts.

“The defendant, Mr. Nathan Doe-”

My heart nearly stopped.

What?

I blinked, my brain struggling to process what I’d just heard. Nathan Doe? There was no way.

I snapped my head up, my eyes wide as they locked onto the judge. My pulse quickened. Could it really be him? Nate Doe, the guy same guy that was only mentioned just the other night? Chris’s best friend?

I looked around the courtroom, my stomach twisting. It had to be a coincidence, right? But I’ve never met another Nathan Doe.

The judge continued, outlining the charges: too much weed, conspiracy to sell, and smoking in public. It wasn’t the most serious of offences, but still enough to land Nate in front of a judge. And now that I was really listening, I knew, this was him. This was Chris’s Nate, standing trial for a drug charge.

I sat back in my seat, completely thrown off. What were the odds? It felt like the universe was pulling me into something, something I wasn’t prepared for.

The case moved forward quickly. The prosecutor outlined the details. Nate had been caught late at night with a sizable amount of weed on him, enough to raise suspicion of intent to sell. There had been rumours he was involved in something bigger - something connected to the ongoing gang feud between the Crimson Cartel and another gang. But those rumours had been dismissed, simply because they’re hear say. Nate was just a guy caught with too much weed, nothing more.

I let out a breath. At least it wasn’t anything more serious. Nate had messed up, sure, but it didn’t seem like his life was about to be ruined over this.

The judge leaned back, considering the case for a moment. The room was quiet, tension hanging in the air. Then, finally, the judge gave his ruling.

“Nathan Doe, you are hereby ordered to make a charitable donation of $2,000 and to complete 50 hours of community service. Additionally, you are expected to refrain from any drug related activities for the next 12 months. Any violation of this order will result in harsher consequences.”

I sat there in stunned silence as the courtroom began to stir, people packing up their papers and preparing to leave. Nate had gotten off pretty lightly, all things considered. No jail time, no heavy fines, just a slap on the wrist and some community service. He’d been lucky.

The judge adjourned the court, and I stood, gathering my things. I was still processing everything when I saw it.

The back of a head, messy brown hair standing out among the sea of people leaving the courtroom.

Chris.

I blinked, certain I was imagining it, but there was no mistaking it. The same messy brown hair, slightly longer than I remembered, and the familiar dishevelled style. He was standing just a few rows ahead of me, getting up to leave as casually as if this were just another day for him.

My heart pounded against my chest, my mind racing to process the sight. He was here.

The courtroom felt like it had shrunk in size, the walls closing in as my vision narrowed on him. Chris, the boy who had vanished from my life all those years ago, was standing a few feet away. Older now, but still unmistakably him. He was taller, more solid, but the sight of him sent a jolt of electricity through me. How could this be happening? The rush of memories collided with the reality of the moment, the image of him, a person I never thought I’d see again, suddenly appear back into my life.

And my god, he was still just as good looking. Maybe even more so. His face had matured, the angles sharper, and there was a quiet intensity in the way he carried himself now. Gone was the boyish charm, replaced by something darker, more serious.

I swallowed hard, my hands trembling slightly as I tried to keep it together. I wanted the ground to swallow me whole. What were the odds? First Nate, now Chris? My mind raced, panic setting in.

Should I say something? Should I call out to him? No what the fuck would I be doing yelling in a court room. Oh my god he definitely knows I was stalking him too. Maybe I should just avoid him.

The idea made my stomach churn, the second hand embarrassment from the accidental Instagram like still fresh in my mind. my mind screamed. I’d tried to play it cool, but there was no undoing that little heart popping up on his post. Maybe he hadn’t noticed?

God, I hoped not.

Just avoid him. 

That seemed like the best idea right now. Avoid him and get out of here before I did something stupid or said something even worse. But as much as I told myself to leave, my feet wouldn’t listen. My eyes were locked on him, glued to the sight of him moving through the aisle, his head slightly lowered as he tucked his hands into his jacket pockets.

I tried to snap out of it, to move, but the weight of my thoughts held me back. It was like seeing a ghost, someone I had long thought was buried in the past. But here he was, alive and real, and my heart didn’t know how to handle it.

As he neared the doors of the courtroom, my body finally kicked into gear. I shuffled down the aisle, clutching my things tightly and keeping my gaze low, hoping I could sneak out without running into him. Just keep your head down, Y/n.

I had just made it into the hallway when I felt a presence beside me. My heart skipped a beat as I glanced sideways, and there he was. Chris.

No, no, no.

His eyes caught mine before I could look away. Shit.

“Y/n?” His voice was deeper than I remembered, and it sent a shiver down my spine.

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo

[fave-fight]

ROUND 1, MATCH 41

NO MAGIC, POWERS, WEAPONS, OR ADDITIONAL HELP FROM OTHERS

L Lawliet:

“He's got some sick capoeira shit, kicked Light in the face once. It's such a cool & unusual fighting style I dont think anyone will have a strategy for it. ”

“He knows capoeira and is good at it, and is surprisingly good at taking a hit to the face. Also, I love him, that counts for something, right?”

A horse:

“*David Attenborough voice*  Ah! Here we see the noble horse. Truly one of nature's least survivable animals. This pathetic specimen cannot handle the breakage of it's legs, because it is too intellectually limited to avoid using the damaged appendage. In a fight with virtually any other animal the impressive strength that a stallion may demonstrate is immediately made secondary to the limited survivability of a horse.  Horses are not good fighters. I don't like horses. They will lose many many fights.  Thank you for coming to my (David H Attenborough's) TED Talk.”

“i saw this on the spreadsheet and thought it was funny so i'm supporting it with a vote. let's get a horse in this fight”

“Have you tried fighting a horse? Shit's scary :(”

[sulfies]

IF I Lead (PT2)

Part 1 here

At least The stars looked the same… one common thing the apocalypse and the medieval times had together was the lack of light pollution.

One of the rare things he could let himself enjoy guilt-free.

He had gone into the town in the morning and walked around discreetly.

It was a lot… all the noise and people assaulted his senses but he needed to get the Vanice and to get there he needed to make money. Not only so he could arrive there but also survive once he did. 

If he guessed the timeline right, he had a couple of years till the apple arrived in Italy, which gave him a long time to plan and get his bearings. It was both a blessing and a curse. The thought of having to wait all that time made his skin itch.

He would find a temporary job in Monteriggioni for the time being, till he got his pocket money and no longer.

He could join the mercenaries,

he really didn't like the idea of being a sword for hire but they were paid relatively well and he could fight and with many of them in town he could be forgotten in the numbers unlike becoming a tradesman and people remembering his face. The less bonds he made with the village folk, the better.

They also hired almost anyone and always needed numbers, he could pass off as a seasoned fighter and most likely they would take him in.

He turned to his side, a small shiver crept up to his body. The guard tower didn't really break the winds of the chill night air and he only had his hoodie as a blanket. He had survived worse so he would make do.

Shutting his eyes Desmond tried to make himself fall asleep. He had a lot to do tomorrow, who knew he would be job-hunting again in his lifetime.

—-----------

As dawn broke over the valley Desmond scaled his tower down, he was leaving his backpack behind in the tower since it seemed like no one was going in it for their rounds. 

Walking around the town he was willing himself to stay calm, he had his two-day freak-out but now it was time to focus.

He made his way up the village and to the side street where he remembered the barracks to be.

He came across the two-story building covered in lumbar with some workers outside, it seemed like Ezio had already begun repairs on it.

Desmond took a deep breath before shaking his hands out. God, when did he become so scared of basic conversations…

Licking his lips he walked closer to the building giving some nods to the workers he passed. 

A young man, standing right outside the door leaning on the frame to the side, noticed him.

In a dismissive attitude, the man spoke to him, 

“What's your business here grandpa?” 

Desmond scoffed but put on a small fake grin. He needed to charm them for a way in.

“Missus said I had to get off my ass so was coming to see if you folk got any need for additional men, or is there now an age limit to holding a weapon?”

The man shook his head, turned to his friend with a shit-eating grin “Oh a forward one isn't he?” He turned back to Desmond “We don't just accept any old fart off the street you know?”

“I should hope not, or it would be bad news for the village's safety. Anything I need to prove I can show it to a man that needs the proof, just tell me who and where.”

The young man looked him up and down a bit then sent his friend a look. Leaning away from the frame he turned to the door.

“I'll ask inside but don't get your hopes up if all you can do is to hold a sword.”

Desmond hummed as the man went in.

His friend was eyeing him now.

 “Lost your old job and the miss booted you?”

Desmond chuckled “Could say so, some had promised a job to me but it fell through and now my lovely warden demands coins.” He looked sheepishly to the side. 

The friend smiled knowingly “You guys moved here then?”

Desmond shook his head “Nah, just me. She doesn't like leaving her mother's side, except to come to fetch my purse of course. Left her back in Venice as I get a footing here”

Men his age were usually married in this time period, a fake backstory would come in handy for him too when it was time to go to Venice and if his ‘wife’ was never here… no one could talk about how they had never seen her. It wasn't too uncommon for men to leave their wives back to find work anyway.

They exchanged more small talk till the door opened and the young man returned, head signalling him to come in.

“He said he will take a look at you.”

Desmond walked in after him taking in the scene. He never got to see the inside of his place in the Animus. Construction was mostly on the outside but there were a few people also inside doing some work, mostly replacing some beams and floors.

Some mercenaries were practicing light moves on dummies to the side but most of them were around the tables to the left chatting and… ofcourse drinking.

He got led through another door at the other end of the hall that opened up to a smaller room with a handful of people inside. They were of higher rank than the people in the main room, he assumed. Their clothes were a bit nicer, faces more hardened.

“Iulio tells me you wish to join us?” One of the men steps up to him, short hair with a small scar across his cheek, his gaze judging his form. 

“Marsilio”

The man holds his hand out and Desmond shakes it. “Dominico” It was close enough to his name that he could get himself to respond to it if called out.

“Isn't it a bit late for a career change?”

Desmond chuckles “I’m not new to fighting, worked as a guard on the outskirts of Florance in my youth. Know how to hold a sword and use it too.”

Marsillio taps on his lip, mirroring where Desmond’s scar would be. “A gift from that time then?” Desmond nods “Good, seeing battle puts you above some of the new recruits… but I can't just accept anyone that walks through the door can I?”

Desmond wanted to sigh, maybe he should just steal some money from the Villa.

“You know basic forms?” “Si, and more”

A small hum of approval. 

The man looked him over with more intent, clearly trying to see if his body was built for the job, and a part of Desmond would take offence if he was denied. He was fit for his age, not a bodybuilder but he had been using the same muscles the same way since his 20s.

“Alright, God knows we can always use more men but you can join as a temporary recruit, no pay till you prove you won't throw your back out when you are swinging a sword.”

Desmond held back a scowl, he knew they were basically hazing him at this point but he had to bear it and play this game. “Good with me, but you better not wait for me to die from age to pay me my due.”

Marsillio let out a laugh and placed a slap on his back “Hah! It depends if you can pull your weight”

Desmond gritted his teeth, he could feel a headache coming in.

“I want you here first thing in the morning by the first bell, you will join the training with the recruits, your previous experience doesn't mean shit to me till you show it”

He nodded “Understandable, Thank you, Sir”

“Bah just call me my name, we are the same age likely” 

“All right Marsillio, I'll be here by dawn”

—------------

The training was… barely worth Desmond's time to be honest. He had gotten there before the bell and the group of ten made their way up to the ring below the villa. They ran some laps in the clearing nearby and were now swinging their swords at nothing. It was busy work mostly. Probably meant to bore the unwilled ones so they quit early.

Monteriggioni had not seen combat in a while and it shoved on everyone's skill. Mercenaries weren't meant to be masters of battle but they could have some more discipline. Mario really paid them all these years for nothing.

Desmond sighed and twirled his blade. It wasn't Marsillio seeing over them today but he recognized the man from the day before, he had the same uniform and was in the back room too so he must have some reputation and a rank as well. But not much since he was stuck having to teach the new members.

“Take a short rest people, then pair up, I want to see some hand-to-hand in the ring after!”

Now that was more fun. Desmond rested the sword on his shoulder as he wiped his brow. He didn't know anybody so he didn't bother to find a pair, whoever was the last pick would be with him and he didn't want nor have a need to make small talk.

“Dominico.” Desmond tore his eyes away to look at his senior. The man walked over to him throwing a waterskin, which he gladly accepted with a raised brow.

“You were not lying about the fact that you know your basics.”

He took a sip of water, refreshing himself. “I have no need to lie about that but I understand the skepticism” since he had lied about everything else.

“Mmhm. Paulo tells me your wife is back in Venice?” Ah, that must be Iulio’s friend.

“Si, ser…”

“Names Vincesco” Desmond repeats the name back. 

“What did you need?” “Ah nothing, came to introduce myself, most of the young ones are too bothersome to make talk with, too prideful for how little they know.”

Desmond hummed in agreement. “They have yet to see real combat, it is expected.”

“That is true, we are in peaceful times”

Both watched the bickering novices. Some lying on the grass, some showing each other around rather than resting.

It was somewhat nice to see them carefree. The small amount of youth back in his compound rarely had time to have fun, they had to do their tasks to survive not live…

“I'll tell you what, show me your skills in the ring today and I'll see if I can put in a word with Marsillio and the rest to get you out of this drag”

Desmond turned to Vincesco with a slight surprise, that would help a lot actually. “I was that impressive at swinging my sword left to right?”

The man chuckles “Nah, hard to make the mundane look good. But I can see from your footwork you know your stuff, we need more battle-ready men and I need fewer kids to babysit.”

“I appriciate that Vincesco…”

“Dont thank me yet, If one of them wipes you into the ground I won't have anything to tell at all” 

Desmond shook his head. He would like to see them try.

[foundtherightwords]

Fallen Empires - Chapter 13

Pairing: Geta x OFC

Summary: Having done the unthinkable to secure his throne, Emperor Geta rules with ruthlessness and paranoia. Now, after escaping an assassination attempt, a badly injured Geta is saved by Daphne, a young widow, who takes him back to her remote village without knowing his true identity. As Daphne nurses the former emperor back to health, attraction blooms between them, and Geta discovers a soft side he didn't know he possessed. But can their love survive his thirst for revenge and his desire to reclaim power?

Chapter warnings: mentions of war and death, non-explicit sex

Chapter word count: 3.6k

Prologue + Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12

Chapter 13

In the days following the end of the war with Parthia, Daphne's hut lost some of its quiet and isolation. Even on the top of the hill, Geta could hear wagons rattling their way back and forth across the border as trade resumed, and see soldiers of the auxiliaries, some riding donkeys and mules, but most on foot, making their way home, crowding the little path that wound its way through the hills. Geta watched them and wondered. Who were they coming home to? Did their families know they were on their way? Were they eager for the homecoming or dreading it, not knowing what they would find at the end of the long, weary journey?

And he thought of himself. He, too, must face his own homecoming soon. He didn't like to think of it. For one thing, he didn't know how Julia Maesa would receive him. She had never been that affectionate toward either of her nephews, busy as she was with her own family and ambitions. And he didn't know Hemesos well. It was more his mother's home than his. Where was his home, then? Rome? No, he had never felt quite at home there. The Severan had always been looked down upon by the Senate as a family of provincial upstarts. So why was he risking life and limbs to return to a place that never wanted him?

Daphne came out of the hut, cutting off his train of thought. "I may be a little later than usual," she told Geta while putting her medicine bags on Midas's back. "A few people were struck down with swamp fever, and I have to visit them all."

"I'll keep dinner waiting," Geta said, giving her hand a brief squeeze as she went past him. She smiled at him. She had been smiling at him a lot more lately, after they started sleeping in the same bed, yet no matter how many times he saw her smile, his heart never failed to leap and thump with joy at the sight of it. At least when he left, he would have the memory of those smiles with him.

Daphne took Midas's bridle and slowly made her way down the hill.

"And don't let Vulcan into the house!" she said over her shoulder.

"I won't," Geta said. He winked at Vulcan, now fully healed but still with a limp in his hind leg, as Daphne had predicted. Ever since his recovery, the little goat had been sticking close to Geta.

Geta watched until Daphne had rounded the large boulder hiding the path and vanished from sight. Then he turned back toward the hut, thinking of ways to fill his time until she returned.

A scream went up from the path.

"Daphne!" Geta shouted, jumping down the path two steps at a time. He ran around the boulder and saw Daphne and the donkey standing halfway down the hill, seemingly unharmed. But they weren't alone. Daphne had her arms around a man. A young man, with dark hair and dark eyes, dressed in the dusty garbs of a returning soldier.

At the sight of this man, Geta's heart dropped like a lead. Could it be—? It couldn't, could it? After eight years? But the gods worked in mysterious ways. Wasn't his own survival proof of that?

Noticing movements at the top of the path, the other man looked up from the embrace, and a frown—of surprise? Or dismay?—appeared on his face as he set eyes on Geta.

"Who is that?" the man asked.

Daphne lifted her face from the man's shoulder and wiped a quick hand across her tear-stained face. Following the man's eyes, she saw Geta as well, and a flush crept over her cheeks.

"His name is Romulus," she said. "He's a soldier and—he was wounded. So he's staying with me for a bit."

The man, still frowning, looked from Geta, poised at the top of the path as if frozen in place, to Daphne, whose eyes were fixed on the ground while her flush deepened. The silence stretched on unbearably.

Then Daphne, remembering herself, said, "Romulus, this is my brother, Attikos."

With that, the tension slid off of Geta like water off a duck's back. Her brother. Of course. Daphne had often mentioned Attikos. The middle one, who was in the army. How silly of him to forget that. Now that he was looking at them more closely and calmly, Geta could see the resemblance between brother and sister, not so much in appearance—Attikos favored their father, with a square jaw and blunt nose, as opposed to Daphne's more delicate features—but in their facial expressions and the way they carried themselves, which spoke of a closeness and a familiarity that were utterly unknown to him. He watched the two of them, feeling strangely envious of their easy rapport. He found himself thinking of Caracalla, and as always, guilt gnawed at his insides.

Attikos also relaxed. He came up the path and clasped hands with Geta. "You were in Parthia? Nisibis?" he asked.

Geta nodded warily. It was easier than explaining everything. Daphne seemed to realize the need to distract Attikos as well, for she quickly chimed in, "My apologies for screaming just then. But this one"—here she slapped her brother on the shoulder—"had the brilliant idea to hide behind a boulder and jump out at me. He was lucky I didn't stick him with my knife!"

"Sorry, sis," said Attikos with a grin. "Just wanted to surprise you. You should be honored that I made a detour to see you first—"

"You mean you haven't seen Ma and Mikkos?" Daphne exclaimed. "Then what are you still doing here? Come, come! I'll walk down with you." She steered her brother down the path, telling Geta over her shoulder as she went, "Don't wait for me."

But Attikos held Daphne back. "I have something to tell you," he said, throwing an uncertain glance at Geta.

Daphne noticed her brother's look and waved her hand. "Don't worry, you can trust him," she said, and added, by way of explanation, "I do." This last sentence was directed at Geta with another one of her smiles, and his heart fluttered.

"All right." Attikos put his hand into a pouch at his belt and drew out something, which he put into Daphne's palm. It was a silver ring, so tarnished that it appeared almost black, but Geta could still make out the design of a lover's knot on it. A betrothal ring.

Upon seeing it, Daphne went deathly pale. Her hand froze as if the ring had been an arrow shot through her palm, and she looked up at Attikos with a silent question in her wide-open eyes.

"During my last day at the garrison, a new troop came in to relieve us," Attikos began. "One of them, a Judean, was very excited when he learned I'm from Osroene." He paused, looking closely at his sister. "Daphne, he was in Caledonia. He knew Galen."

Daphne said nothing. She sat down on the stone step of the path, her fingers curled around the ring protectively, while still gazing at her brother with that mute, beseeching look that tore at Geta's heart. Attikos sat down next to her, while Geta remained standing behind them, unnoticed, unwanted, not knowing what to do.

"The Judean said Galen gave him this ring before he—before he died," Attikos continued. "To make sure it's returned to you. The Judean said he's sorry it's taken so long, but he's been moved from garrison to garrison this past eight years and never had a chance to make it to Osroene."

Daphne looked down at the ring. "Did the Judean tell you what happened to him, to Galen?" she asked. Her voice was quiet, emotionless.

Attikos gave Geta a brief look, apparently seeking a fellow soldier's advice. Receiving only Geta's carefully blank gaze in return, Attikos looked back at his sister and decided he knew her better, after all. "There was an ambush," he said. "Galen took an arrow in the back. He hung on for four days, but they couldn't save him."

Geta wanted to shout at the younger man and tell him to stop, because Daphne's whole body was shaking, from the hand clutching at the ring to her shoulders, to even the knot of hair on the nape of her neck, as though she was in great pain. But he could only stand there, watching helplessly. An ambush? There had been so many ambushes in Caledonia. Had Geta himself led this particular charge? Had he brought Daphne's husband to his death?

A tear fell from Daphne's face to the dusty ground. Geta moved toward her, but Attikos, being closer, was already patting her shoulder awkwardly. "I'm sorry, sis," he said.

Daphne took a few shuddering gulps, then she straightened up and wiped her face with the end of her stole. "No, don't be," she said. "You brought Galen's memento back to me, and for that I'm thankful. And I'm thankful that you're home safe." She got to her feet and slipped the ring into her pouch. "Now, let's take you to Ma. She'll be overjoyed."

She seemed to have completely forgotten Geta. With a quick nod at Geta, Attikos followed her down the path. Geta watched them go, feeling empty and useless. Daphne would find comfort with her family now, and he had no part in it.

Vulcan, who was frolicking with his brother in the shades, came ambling over, rubbing his head against Geta's hand. Geta stroked the goat's head and gave him a rueful smile. At least here was a creature who still loved him, even if that love could be bought with a handful of hay and grains and some head scratches.

***

Daphne didn't return until late in the evening. Geta heard her coming up the path, but when he came out to meet her, he only saw Midas, already free of bridle and saddlebags, placidly eating his evening meal by the haystack. It took Geta another moment to find Daphne, who was sitting on a stone overlooking the fragrant herbs of the garden, their scent heady after a long day of baking under the sun. She just sat there, doing nothing.

"Daphne?" Geta called, coming to sit next to her. She made no indication of knowing he was there and continued gazing toward the distance, as dusk painted the hills around them a rich shade of purple like an Imperial robe. Her unnatural frozen state frightened him. He must do something to bring her out of it, before it swallowed her up. Reaching out a hand, he touched her cheek with the back of his fingers. Much to his relief, her skin was cool, not cold nor feverish, yet his touch did not rouse her. "My sweet laurel," he said softly. He had never used that term of endearment in her hearing, only in his thoughts—somehow he felt rather embarrassed about it, having never called anyone in his life by a pet name—but now he repeated it. "My sweet laurel. Is something the matter, carissima?" he asked.

Finally, drawn either by the sound of his voice or by his words, Daphne took a deep breath, like one coming out of a dream, and turned to him. The moon was coming up, and under that gray, dim light, she was pale, so pale, and so sad, too. She had always carried herself with calmness and dignity, and it grieved Geta to see such a look of loss and pain on her face. Yet she still smiled at him, though it was only a ghost of her usual smile. "No, nothing is the matter," she said. "I just want some air."

"How are your patients?" he asked, wishing to distract her.

"They are on the mend."

"And have you eaten? I saved some porridge for you."

"Thank you, but I've eaten with my mother and brothers."

"Some wine, then." He went into the hut and brought back an amphora and two beakers. Anything to keep her mind off the ring and her husband's death.

Daphne took the beaker he handed her and drained it in one gulp. The wine seemed to fortify her, and she said, with more focus, "I'm sorry that Attikos saw you today. Rest assured, he won't spill the secret to anyone."

"I'm not worried about that," said Geta, and he truly wasn't. "What about you? Are you alright?"

"Yes. Why would I not be?" She glanced at her hand, and Geta saw, with a jolt, that she was now wearing the ring. The tarnished silver shone dully under the moonlight. "Galen saved up for a whole year to buy me this," she said. "I gave it to him when he left for Caledonia and made him promise to bring it back to me—" Her voice cracked. Geta didn't want to hear this, didn't want to know how much she'd loved another man, didn't want to see her in such pain. But it seemed Daphne only wanted to talk, no matter to whom—it made no difference to her if it was Geta, the goats, or that indifferent moon above. So Geta swallowed his pride and listened.

"When they first brought me the news," she continued, after clearing her throat, "I'd hoped there would be a following message saying it was all a terrible mistake. Caledonia is so far away, and mistakes like that do happen. Sometimes I think I'm still waiting for that second message."

"But—" Geta began, not knowing what he was going to say.

"I suppose you think it's silly," Daphne snapped, with the same defiant lift of her chin when she told him about her work as an abortionist. Then she lowered her head again. "When it's someone you love, you never stop hoping, despite everything telling you otherwise," she said.

"You miss him," he said jealously.

"I do," she admitted. "Though sometimes I'm afraid I'm forgetting him. He's been gone for nearly ten years, almost as long as I've known him. We were married for only three days before he left for Caledonia. I almost followed him to the camps, you know? But my father found out and put a stop to it."

It made Geta's head spin to think that he and Daphne could have crossed paths in Caledonia. But of course, he wouldn't have spared her another glance then, focused as he had been on proving his worth as the heir to the throne, waiting for his father to die so he could seize power. She wouldn't have looked at him either, being married to another man. And after her husband was killed, she might have stayed there, working as a healer at the garrison, and Geta never would have met her at all. The Fates, it seemed, had a way of throwing people together.

"I think what I miss the most is what we could have had," Daphne continued. "We could have had three children running around by now. Our oldest would take the goats out on the hills, while I stay home with the younger ones, and when the sun goes down, we would all come out to meet my husband as he returns from the field with the oxen..." She turned away to hide her eyes.

"Why don't you remarry?"

"And put my life in the hands of another man?" She shook her head. "No. After Galen, I cannot trust anyone enough for that. My father may be bad, but at least I know him. As long as he has a steady supply of wine, he will leave me alone to do my work." She looked around the garden under the moonlight. "It does get terribly lonely at times though." She tried to smile in self-mockery, but her lips trembled. A sob escaped her, and tears streamed down her face.

Without thinking, Geta drew her head onto his shoulder and wrapped his other arm around her. She sat there in his embrace, weeping as though her tears would never end, as though the tears she had put away in the past eight years were now flowing all at once, and she finally allowed herself to grieve for her husband. Geta ran his fingers through her hair, trying to quiet her trembling. He found himself getting angry with her brother for bringing the ring back, angry with the Judean man for holding on to the ring for so long and denying her the certainty to mourn, and angry with the ghost of her dead husband for haunting her, just as Geta's own ghosts were haunting him.

It was a long time before Daphne's sobs and shudders ceased, though her tears were still hot on his chest. Reaching out, he brushed those tears away from her cheeks. For a moment, he sat looking at them, glistening on his fingers like pearls under the moon. He was no stranger to women's tears—the shocked and suppressed tears of his mother when his brother died in her arms, the hysterical tears of the wives and daughters of his brother's supporters when he ordered their exile, the seductive, false tears of the women he bedded. None of them had touched him. So why, he wondered, these tears should move him so? He brought his hand to his lips. It tasted salty, like all tears, like his own tears, if he'd ever cried. He must have, mustn't he, when he was a child? He no longer remembered. It was such a long time ago.

"I can't imagine you staying at home waiting for any man," he told her, half-joking. "More likely you would follow him into the field and tell him he is plowing it wrong."

A choked laugh escaped Daphne's throat, followed by a tentative smile that rose from behind her tears, like the sun coming out after the rain. Smiling back, Geta leaned over, and, still cupping her face in his hand, brushed his lips over her wet cheeks, trying to take away her pain, her grief, her loneliness. His lips strayed to her mouth, and she opened it with a little sigh that sounded almost expectant.

The moment that sigh floated across his lips, he knew what to do. Slowly, ever so slowly, he touched his lips to hers in the gentlest of kisses, a kiss that he'd never given to anyone, not even to the statue of Minerva at whose feet he prayed for victory. Her lips were soft and tasted of tears. Then he pulled back and sought Daphne's eyes.

Miraculously, her tears had dried. She was gazing at him with a mixture of wonder and tenderness, such tenderness that it went right through him, squeezing his heart in a gentle grip.

"Was that a kiss?" she asked.

"... Yes."

"I thought you didn't like kissing."

"I didn't realize how nice it was," he said, which was the truth. And because it was so nice indeed, he brought his lips to hers again. Now that he'd gotten past the tears, he discovered that she also tasted sweet, and it wasn't just because of the wine they'd just drunk. It was her taste, of herbs and honey and wildflower, more intoxicating than all the wines of Campania. What a fool he'd been! How could he have thought that kissing would sully his mouth? What could be more noble and sacred than this? He pressed her close, fingers twisted into her hair, draining that sweetness from her mouth, couldn't get enough of it. As he bit down on her lip, hard enough to draw blood, she let out a startled cry and pulled away. He chased after her mouth, but she placed a hand on his chest, pushing him back.

"What?" he snapped, annoyed, like a child who just had his sweet snatched from his hand.

"You don't have to be in such a hurry," she said, smiling indulgently. "I'm not going anywhere."

She sank down on the grass, dry and yellow from the summer heat, drawing him down with her. And there, under the moon, with the fragrant herbs and flowers all around them, she kissed him back, softly but thoroughly, her lips and tongue at once gently pleasing and wickedly teasing. She showed him all the ways she liked to be kissed, and he, in turn, learned all the ways he liked to kiss her, until he could feel nothing else but her and his own growing desire.

She trailed her mouth down his jaw and placed a kiss on the side of his neck, making him shiver with anticipation. And then, lifting his tunic up, she kissed her way down his chest and his torso, as she had done before, only now with more confidence in knowing he would not push her away. And he could never think to push her away again, could never think anything else, not with her mouth moving over him in a way that made his mind go blank, like a wax tablet being scraped clean, nothing there but her kisses. Had he once thought she was not particularly good at bed-sport? What ignorance! She was merely learning, discovering him with her body, her hands, and now her mouth, her touches becoming surer, more confident as they went on. And because she was so sure, there was no hesitance in him either. When she finally took him into her, he didn't pull back. He gave her everything that he was, everything that he had ever been, and everything that he would ever be, so that he emerged from the waves of ecstasy fresh as if he'd just taken a dip in the River Lethe. Before her, there had been nothing, and afterward, there was nothing else but her.

Chapter 14

Taglist: @sheneedsrocknroll92, @justnobodynothingmore, @barcelonaloverf1life, @myotakureprieve, @flawssy-227, @itsrainingbisexualfrogs, @deliciousfestsalad (if you want to be tagged or removed, let me know!)

[justmystical]

The Forgotten- 1

Pairing: Lucifer x Butterfly!fem!reader

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel x Star vs the forces of evil

Warnings: Pre-season of Hazbin hotel, Alternative Universe

Two | Navigation

(Name) Butterfly is the Second Princess of Mewni and the Younger Sister of Queen Eclipsa.She has long red hair ,light Turquoise eyes and red round shaped marks on her cheeks.

Being the second Princess she didn't experience using her Family Relic,the Magic wand of the Butterflies that was pass down to generations to generations. Ofcourse she already knew from the beginning she wouldn't wield it. However her late Mother Queen Solaria the Monster Carver requested that she would given a replica of the family wand.

When her Mother was alive she would always want to protect her two daughters,so when she reigned Mewni she requested to the Embodiment of the Magic Book of there family to make a replica for her Protection.Just when her sister turned fourteen she received it.

She was thankfull for her mother's gift even though it was the last gift she ever received from her.

When she touched her wand it turned to a key like wand.She also found out that she can turn it to a necklace,she expect what would happen next...

She was mourning her mother's death and wanted someone to comfort her, suddenly her tears fell from her eyes to her wand and it lit up.

That surprised her very much and watched as the one ascend through the air and watch it transforms to a cat?!

This was the best thing that happened to her in weeks after her mother's death, a cat that was loyal to her and comforted her in hours mourning. It felt she felt and she decided to name her KeeKee.

Timeskip

You were currently having breakfast with your sister and her husband, yeah you never did like Shastacan or what's his name. You see him as rude and so full of himself,so you really don't how your sister survives him. If you were her you would rather feed yourself to monsters.

"So n/n how's your lesson with Glossaryck been going?"Your sister Eclipsa asked you, you stopped eating and looked at your sister "well, to be completely honest sister?poor Glossaryck is having a hard time"i giggled and Eclipse joined in"my,my sister don't give him a hard time"

You saluted and she laughed again, You and Your sister were always close but sometimes you feel like she hiding something from you.

As Breakfasts came to an end, you said goodbye to my sister and well except for Shastacan.

You removed your necklace and let transform into a cat " hewo Keekee"you said in a baby voice and she rubbed her head on your hand.

"should we visit another dimension?i think Glossaryck is going with sister today"You told her" and i may have stolen a portal scissor , don't tell anyone okay"

You went to your room to change into something comfortable, you put on a cloak and gotten everything you need ready.

Keekee transforms back into a key necklace as you put the hood of the cloak on. You cut the air to open a portal.

Earth

You visited here multiple times cause you a curious Princess.

Here it was so different from Mewni,its very interesting to say the least.

You explored more around and Keekee already transformed earlier as she guide you through the paths,she was given to you like she was your babysitter as some people joke.

You were to busy looking around you didn't noticed Keekee to be distracted to something.When you finally noticed you ran try to find your beloved pet.

"Keekee?where are you girl?" You shouted and looked around until you saw her in the hands of a blonde short man with a top hat he was sitting down by a tree.

It looked like Keekee was comforting him like she comforted you..

You walked closer to get a glimpse of the man he had the most beautiful face you ever seen and you were shocked to see he had similar marks on the cheeks like yours.

"hello?"you said which made the man jumped in surprise.

He looked at you and you remove your hood"hi?"he replied voice hoarse.

Was he crying?

Keekee saw you and rubbed herself on your leg"oh is this your cat?"you nodded.

"well I didn't know sorry..."

"it's alright,it seemed like you needed it..."you said"can i sit down with you?"he looked confused but nodded.

"hasn't anyone told you about stranger danger?"he asked and i laughed.

"well i like danger and it looks like you could use someone to talk to...my cat doesn't usually comfort any other people... she's like a detector for people who need a little help" you trailed off looking at Keekee.

"how can you be sure i need someone?"

"well,Keekee does and i trust my feline companion"

He laughed and it was like music to your ears.

"I'm (Name) by the way , what's yours?"

He froze and looked hesitant in telling you his name.

"it's umm.."

You looked at him with a confused face

"it's Lucifer..."he fully expect for you to run away.

But you didn't and smiled.

"nice to meet you Lucifer"

Lucifer yet again had to suffer his punishment. Only seeing the bad of his doings, he was summoned by a bunch of people devoted to him. They had sacrificed a lamb , baby lamb.

He can't endure this.. he only want people to have freedom and this is the consequences he got.

He teleported out out of that part of the forest and sat by a trying to maintain his breathing.

He sobbed for this retched cursed upon him.

Until he heard a meowing and saw a cat walking towards him at first he was scared to harm this little creature.

But It seems like it wasn't scared of him and for awhile it comforted him.

"KeeKee!"

He heard a luring voice but didn't moved an inch.

Until the girl greeted him,he was hesitant in interacting with this girl.

For some reason this girl is giving a source of good energy, not only that she was also gorgeous.

At the end he thought she would ran away from his name. But for some reason this girl seem confused at my hesitantion

How odd...

A/n: i know Keekee is the embodiment of the hotel but for the sake of this story and it's an alternative universe

[candycandy00]

Finding Love in a Zombie Apocalypse - A JJK Interactive Romance Fanfic Round 3

Read the details about this event here!

Round 1 | Round 2

During a zombie apocalypse, you meet a group of seven handsome men. Which one will you choose to be your survival/romantic partner?

Vote for the man you want to be eliminated! The man with the most votes will not be killed off in the story, but he will be removed from all future polls and his branching story will be closed off!

Reminder: Vote for the man you DO NOT want to survive with! You are voting someone OUT!

After this round, every man voted out will not have his part posted!

In the previous round, Man #4, Toji, was voted out!

Dividers by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more!

As the zombie horde begins flooding into the store, slowed only by the narrow opening of a single floor to ceiling window, you and the other survivors flee toward the back entrance of the store. 

As you run, you trip on a discarded can of food, your foot flying out from under you. With a cry of alarm, you hit the floor. Looking up, you realize the others didn’t notice. In the chaos, they didn’t even hear you scream.

Man #1: Choso

You yell for help, but you don’t think anyone can hear you over the moans of the zombies and the called out directions of the men at the front of the pack. But as you watch their backs as they get further away, you see one of them turn around. 

It’s Choso! He sees you struggling to stand up in your panic, and runs back for you. He hurriedly pulls you to your feet. Up ahead, the others seem to have noticed that something’s wrong, so they’ve slowed or stopped to look back. 

The two of you run toward the rest of the group, but a zombie grabs at Choso’s loose fitting shirt. You run over and try to help him pull free, but he simply twists around and knocks the zombie’s rotting hand away in some sort of martial arts move. 

“I didn’t know you could do that!” you yell over the chaos as you both continue running. 

“I can’t die here! I have to make it to the next town,” he says back. “My little brother Yuji is waiting for me!”

Ah, so that’s who it was. You admire his dedication, and you hope from the bottom of your heart that he can get to his brother and protect him. But in the meantime, the two of you dodge grabbing zombies as you run to catch up with the others. 

It isn’t lost on you that, despite his desperation to reach his brother, he still risked his life to come back for you.

Man #2: Sukuna

As you and Choso rejoin the group, you notice a couple of unhappy looks being thrown your way, even though most of the men seem relieved that you’re okay. You ignore them, running along beside them. 

It doesn’t take long for you to realize you’re slowing them down. They’re all taller than you, with longer legs and more stamina, so they’re outpacing you quickly. Most of them seem to have slowed to let you keep up, but at least one has run ahead and another, Sukuna, is grumbling complaints under his breath. 

Finally he moves closer to you and picks you up, slinging you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. 

You yelp in surprise, and in return he gives your ass a light smack. “You can’t keep up, princess,” he says in a mocking tone, picking up speed and running as fast as the others despite the added weight. 

You’re not sure how to respond to his rough treatment, but ultimately you’re thankful that he’s getting you out of danger. “Uh, thanks,” you say, hoping he can hear you. 

His hand is gripping the backs of your thighs, holding you in place. “Don’t mention it,” he replies. He really doesn’t seem scared or worried at all, as if this highly dangerous situation is simply entertainment to break up his boredom. It’s a bit worrying, but at the same time, you feel safe in his grasp. 

When the group finally reaches the back loading area, he sits you down, and quickly turns to shut the door and hold it in place with his massive body while the others decide on the best strategy of getting out.

Man #3: Geto Suguru

Three of the men are standing in a cluster, hurriedly planning out the next move. Geto, Nanami, and Higuruma seem to be the “brains” of this group, each bringing up rapid fire ideas and discussing them quickly and efficiently. But in the end, it’s Geto who decides on which strategy to use. Clearly, he’s the one they defer to. 

He turns to face everyone else and says, “We’ll open the loading gate and slip out as quietly as possible. There are several trucks parked outside, and chances are high that we can get at least one of them started. We’ll split up and check the trucks for keys.”

Everyone nods and agrees to the plan. Choso climbs up and looks out the window you and Higuruma looked through earlier. “There’s only around twenty out here,” he calls. 

Geto look over the group. “Split into groups of two. One person watches while the other searches. Be careful and be quiet.”

Everyone nods and begins pairing up. Geto approaches Gojo, and you realize you often see the two of them together. They must be friends. 

While the others are preparing, you step over to speak to him. “What do you think our chances are?”

He’s wearing a complicated expression. “Good, I hope. Otherwise I’ve just doomed us all.”

You wish he didn’t take responsibility for everything, because it seems to be wearing him down.

Man #4: Fushiguro Toji

The only person who hasn’t paired up yet is Toji, probably because he’s been very vocal about wanting to ditch everyone else. But you’d rather be with him than alone so you approach him. 

“Guess it’s you and me,” you say. 

He shrugs, then says, “Stick close to me. I won’t let you get bitten.”

You’re not sure how much you trust him, but he certainly looks strong enough to fend off a lot of zombies. So you hover close behind him as Geto opens the back loading door. As it slowly rises, making a sound that seems way too loud, a few zombies begin crawling in. Sukuna is at the front, paired with Choso. The two of them are taking out zombies more quickly than the corpses can come in. 

Behind them, Nanami and Higuruma are standing ready to take care of any that slip through. Next are you and Toji, with Gojo behind you waiting for Geto to join him once the gate is open enough for everyone to run through. 

Finally it’s high enough, and the whole group hurries out into the back parking lot. All the pairs scatter toward the huge trucks parked out there, and you start toward one of them yourself before you feel Toji’s hand on your arm, stopping you. 

“My car is parked out front. I can make it.”

You look at him in shock. “You’re ditching us?!”

His expression softens somewhat. “Look, I have a kid. Last I heard, he was still in the city with some relatives. I have to get back there and get him out.”

Oh. That certainly explains a lot. You can’t say you blame him for breaking off from the group in this case. 

“You can come with me if you want,” he says. “Hide nearby. I’ll get my car and pull around here. If you’re still here, I’ll pick you up, but if you’re not, I’ll assume you went with them.” And with that, he runs toward the front of the store, knocking down zombies as he goes.

Man #5: Higuruma Hiromi

You stand there kind of stunned, not sure what to think about Toji’s offer. You’re so distracted that you don’t notice the zombie approaching until it’s right on you! 

You yelp in alarm, dodging its grasp and slipping around behind it. You have your crowbar tucked into your backpack, sticking out for easy access. You grab it and swing, hitting it in the head. It falls down but doesn’t die, suddenly grabbing your ankle and biting! Thankfully, the duck tape Higuruma helped you apply seems to have blocked the bite. 

The zombie is holding on tight despite you trying to kick it off, and two more are coming closer. Out of nowhere, a steel bat swings down and smashes the zombie’s head. You look up to see Higuruma. 

“Geto got a truck started,” he says, taking your hand and pulling you along. “Let’s go!”

A small group of zombies stands in your way, looking in all directions. You notice the sound of an engine running. That must be what they’re looking for. Higuruma ducks behind a car, pulling you with him. 

“Can we go around?” you ask, trying to see how many there are and the easiest path to avoid them.

“We won’t need to,” he says, surprisingly calm. Higuruma pulls something out of his bag, a can of soda. You wonder what he plans to do with it for a second before he throws it, hitting a car several yards away and triggering a blaring alarm. 

The zombies begin shambling toward the car, and after they’ve left, the two of you come out from behind the car. “That was amazing,” you tell him. 

He looks a little embarrassed but he smiles faintly. “I had a car like that once. I remembered how loud the alarm was.”  Then he takes your hand again. “Come on!”

Man #6: Gojo Satoru

As you and Higuruma near the truck Geto got started, you hear the sounds of a scuffle. You arrive to find Gojo fighting off a small horde of zombies. He’s wielding the biggest wrench you’ve ever seen, and he’s eerily silent as he mows down the zombies with shocking ease. There’s a ferocity you didn’t expect from the cheerful, easy going man you met in the store. 

Is this really the same guy? 

His blue eyes seem to be gleaming as zombie blood flies through the air, splattering his clothes. It’s almost as if… he’s feral. 

You stand there for a moment, not sure if you should jump in to help or not. He doesn’t seem like he needs any assistance, but to not do anything while someone else is fighting seems wrong. You start forward, but Higuruma stops you. 

“Best to just leave him be. In that state he might accidentally attack you.”

This surprises you, but you can sort of see how that could happen. He’s swinging the wrench around wildly, at anything that moves near him. Finally the last of the zombies around him go down, and he’s left standing above a pile of bodies, panting. He looks up, and for a brief moment he looks terrifying, but then he smiles at you. 

“Oh, hey, you guys made it,” he says, his voice back to its cheerful usual tone. Then he blinks. “Where’s Toji?”

“Uh, he said he wanted to go to the front and get his car,” you say. 

Higuruma sighs beside you. “That idiot. There’s no way he’ll make it.”

Gojo laughs in a friendly way. “I don’t know about that. He’s unstoppable when he’s determined!”

You stare at him, thinking he looked pretty unstoppable himself just a moment ago. But Gojo smiles brightly at you. It’s the kind of smile that makes you feel like everything will be okay. “Come on, Suguru is waiting in the truck!”

Man #7: Nanami Kento

“Wait, where’s Nanami?” you ask, turning to Higuruma. 

“He found some supplies in the back of the truck we searched. I grabbed as many as I could but he was getting more. He told me to go ahead.”

Just then you spot him in the distance, running toward you, his bag looking heavy and bloated at his side. He motions toward the truck as he calls out, “Get in! I’m right behind you!”

The others begin climbing in, including Choso and Sukuna who just arrived. Apparently they trust that Nanami will make it, but you’re not so sure. There’s a crowd of zombies following after him. 

As you watch, a few of them get close enough to grab at Nanami. He whirls around, chopping the rotted hands off with a huge meat cleaver, then continues running. But that few seconds of time he lost comes back to bite him immediately. Three more zombies have gotten close enough to reach him. 

Without giving it another thought, you clench your crowbar and run toward him. You knock one away from him while he deals with the other two. 

“I told you to get in the truck,” he says sternly, not at all happy that you came back for him. But there’s deep concern laced through his tone. He doesn’t want you to endanger yourself for him. 

“I’m not leaving you behind,” you say as the two of you run toward the truck. 

He kicks a zombie out of the way and brings his cleaver down on another. “And I’m not letting you get hurt trying to help me!”

With the path cleared, you both pick up speed to reach the truck, where the others are waiting. The trailer portion is open in the back, and you can see Sukuna, Choso, and Higuruma inside. Gojo and Geto must be in the cab. 

Nanami climbs into the trailer, then extends his hand to you. “Come on,” he says, and the kindness in his eyes puts you at ease.

Tag List:

@tadabzzzbee @babysoo-meu @atomicweaselpaperapricot

[noiriarti]

Inappropriate: Armitage Hux x Reader - Ch. 1

TW: nsfw stuff, mentions of Brendol Hux being an abusive father, mentions of canon-typical violence, mentions of masturbation and sex.

Summary: Hux has to travel to Starkiller Base to check on construction. His favorite lieutenant comes with him, but these horrible, terribly inappropriate thoughts just won't stop.

[Ch. 1], Ch. 2, Ch. 3, Ch. 4

Hux knew he had chosen the wrong career when he packed for the transport. Maybe if he was a radar technician, or a trooper, or some kind of farmer, this wouldn't be happening. He would be trapped on a transport with that stupid child, Ren, for over a full day. As if he wasn't capable enough to check in on the progress of Starkiller Base's construction on his own. As if Ren could do anything but swing a lightsaber. But, when Snoke said to go, what was he supposed to do? Complain like a child that he couldn't stand that long near Ren? Tell Snoke the idea of bringing a liability like Ren to the barely-wired Base was a bad idea? So, he went. But he didn't have to be happy about it.

Fuming, he finished packing two more crisp uniforms, his datapad, and a coat for the journey. He also counted the rotations until his retirement--12,045, to be exact, if he managed to survive that long--and wondered if there was any way he could kill Ren in his sleep, if the bastard even slept. By the time he had gotten to the Finalizer's hangar, he had decided poison would be best, and that he'd move to some penthouse in Coruscant, get 5 cats, and become some miserly old curmudgeon once he was done working.

The hangar was one of his favorite places, following the bridge, because it housed so much controlled chaos. Just like his precious bridge, it was carefully managed, teeming with droids and techs, always working, always awake. He liked the brightness of the lights in both places, keeping him up through the night cycles, always working away at his datapad. At least Mitaka would be on the mission, he figured, and he was tolerable. And punctual, he noted as he walked around their transport, given that he could see a pair of boots under the nose of the ship. As he rounded the front, he came face-to-face not with Mitaka, but with you.

Oh, fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. As was usual when it came to you, he was done for. You had served under him for two years as a Lieutenant, his best strategist even with his rose-colored glasses off. You two worked closely together, which had been just about killing him. These feelings, these stupid stupid thoughts, would nestle in his brain every time he let his guard down. What if he just brushed your hands together, working late one night on the bridge? What would it be like to kiss you? What would it feel like to have your nails down his-- he stopped himself. That was completely inappropriate. And something he would think about a lot more later. With that thought firmly lodged in his head, he just had to act like a human being long enough for Mitaka to arrive, then he could wash it away in the refresher.

"General!" You broke the silence with a smile and a wave. He had asked you to stop saluting when you saw him, partially because you saw each other so often, but mainly because it reminded him of the fact that he was your commanding officer, and that his little crush was inappropriate. So, so, inappropriate.

"Lieutenant," he said, pausing. Small talk. Small talk. Right. "What brings you to the hangar?" he asked. Real smooth, dumbass.

"I'm coming with you on the mission to Starkiller, sir. You requested a Lieutenant come along, and Mitaka is in the medbay for...injuries, so I'm filling in," you replied. It didn't need to be said that the injuries were caused by Kylo Ren. That was the only cause of injuries in the bridge, anyway.

Normally, he would be thrilled to have you replace Mitaka. You were much more enjoyable to be around, and you weren't one of the people who regularly faced Ren's wrath, so it worked out for him. Except for the fact that he would be spending twenty-four hours, there and back, with you. He could feel the blush climbing up his neck, and he tried to defuse it. You had been a couple of years below him in the Academy, you had been on plenty of missions with him, and you had worked late into the night right beside him plenty of times. He knew you. He wouldn't do anything stupid, like thinking about your time in the Academy, when he helped you study for exams in the library and he imagined what it would be like to make out against one of the shelves--he stopped himself again. This was really getting out of hand, and if he kept going down that road he'd get hard in the middle of the hangar.

"I hope Mitaka recovers well, and that his injuries are not severe. He is a good Lieutenant," he said, mentally kicking himself. What the hell was wrong with him?

"Yeah, Dopheld is pretty okay, just some scrapes. It was... avoidable." Despite your careful language, he knew what you were telling him. You had both harbored a dislike of Ren ever since he joined the Order, but, since he entered your orbits, both of you took issue with him. You, more because he hurt your colleagues. Hux, for obvious reasons. Regardless, you were both united in your general dislike of the Commander. 

The pilot stepped out of the ship, telling both of you that you could get on. He gestured for you to go first, out of some semblance of politeness. He kept his eyes pointedly on the back of your head and not your ass as he walked. Back. Of. The. Head. Your hair--he thought about your hair when it was loose, back in social events at the Academy or during balls, and how he had wondered what it would be like to run his fingers through it, or tuck it behind your ear, or pull it--stars, he definitely needed a shower at this point.

As you entered the ship, he was unpleasantly surprised by how cramped it was, and the pilot showed you to your rooms. His was pretty standard fare: a bed, a refresher, a nightstand. At least it's not shared, he thought. He nodded at the pilot and set his bag down, taking off his coat and unceremoniously flopping it onto a nearby chair. He fished out his datapad and sent you a brief comm.

"Shall we meet in the lounge at 1800 for a briefing on the Base? We can also get dinner, if you would like." He typed the last part hurriedly, sending it before he could think better of it. That was normal, right? For work, right? He had 45 minutes to go cool off before he saw you again. Or, stars forbid, Ren.

Ren still hadn't made it onto the ship, and takeoff was in five minutes. Hux smiled to himself. Maybe there was hope that this mission could be fun after all. He was still, rather embarrassingly, flustered from your previous encounter. He shed his uniform quickly, getting to the refresher and turning on the water as cold as it would go. The ship started under his feet, engines whirring and coming to life as it prepared for takeoff. Hux braced himself against the walls of the shower, smiling even wider. 

Ren hadn't made it. There was just you and him, working on the ship for a full rotation. His brain immediately thought of ways to spend the time that were less than savory. Against the wall, for one. On the floor, on the bed. Maybe in the refresher? He leaned his forehead against the shower wall, willing those thoughts away as he felt himself harden. His hand instinctively went to his cock, and he drew in a halting breath. Not now.

This was going to be a hard, hard twenty-four hours.

AN: this has been banging around in my head for a while. man i love my armitage nice and awkward and pining. let me know what you think!!

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han is an honorable man

I can't believe that I'm making yet another post pointing out the obvious but every time I go into a Youtube comment section I'm starting to question whether me and the rest of the Mortal Kombat fandom have even played the same game.

1. He shows opponents mercy

Sub-Zero: You want peace? Let us be. Liu Kang: The Lin Kuei's sins aren't easily forgiven.

Sub-Zero: Surrender and Shao will show mercy. Mileena: If you believe that, you're a fool.

Sub-Zero: Walk away while you can. Raiden: I'll never give up, never surrender.

Sub-Zero: I won't hold back, Brother. Scorpion: Do your worst.

Sub-Zero: We have no cause for dispute. Kitana: You aided Shao's attempt to steal the throne!

These dialogues honestly speak for themselves already, they don't even need explaining. Compare that to actual villains like General Shao who sends Reiko after Bi-Han to kill him simply because he "doesn't like loose ends" even after Bi-Han saved him or Shang Tsung who killed Reptile's family out of nothing but sheer cruelty.

The fact that Bi-Han is willing to let people walk away from a fight, that he gives them a chance to walk away alive, speaks volumes about his personality. He warns his opponents in his intros and even during his end of round taunts ("Flee now and live."), he tries to solve things peacefully and without violence if possible. He's not bloodthirsty, malicious or eager to kill anyone, but will do so if given no other choice.

Despite Bi-Han's flaws, a man willing to show an opponent mercy is an honorable man. SPOILERS AHEAD: May I again remind you that Kuai Liang is not willing to show a defeated and dying Bi-Han mercy when he gets turned into Noob against his will? Not only that, but Kuai Liang wouldn't have hesitated to kill Frost who is probably around Hanzo's age at his own wedding if Harumi hadn't stepped in to save her. Harumi had to beg Kuai Liang to show someone mercy, while Bi-Han grants it without a second thought. Like it or not, at least in that one aspect, Bi-Han is the better man.

I don't know why some people think of him as this aggressive guy going around trying to pick fights with everyone when all he wants is to be left alone? It's wild to me how people think he's the problem here.

2. He respects/admires their fighting skills

Sub-Zero: You will surely test my might. Ashrah: I will overwhelm it, Sub-Zero.

Sub-Zero: This fight I will long remember. General Shao: Who says you will survive it?

Sub-Zero: I'm pleased to fight Outworld's foremost mage. Rain: Will it also please you to lose?

Sub-Zero: I hear your skills are formidable. Li Mei: As are those of all who have been Umgadi.

Can we also talk about how respectful Bi-Han is towards his opponents? He compliments them on their skills as opposed to Kuai Liang who even talks down to his own allies. Yes, Bi-Han is arrogant, but he can still acknowledge other people's strengths and respect them, even if they are his foes.

3. He admits when he's wrong

Sub-Zero: I was wrong to trust you. General Shao: Yes, Earthrealmer. You were.

Sub-Zero: I wasn't aware of Shang Tsung's experiments. Liu Kang: Had you known, would your choice have been different?

Sub-Zero: Your mother's death is regrettable. Kitana: I consider you complicit, Bi-Han.

You can say what you want about him, but he certainly takes responsibility for his actions and even shows regret over some of them. Bi-Han might not be the most compassionate character, but he does express some sympathy towards others. Compare that to Kuai Liang who tells Havik it's his own fault that his face was burned off as if he had nothing to do with it. Yes, Bi-Han doesn't show much sympathy towards Baraka for his condition, but neither does Kuai Liang. Why Kuai Liang is still considered the more honorable brother regardless of that and his very obvious ableism, is beyond me.

Bi-Han's good traits are all too often overlooked. I don't know if it's because people don't pay attention to intros, but it's so easy to see he's not a bad person deep down. It's just the media comprehension skills of most MK fans that are seriously lacking.

[aviradasa]

Okay- let’s try this again😭

The boys with a reader that’s like Ginger, I see Ginger had a pretty dominant woman.. like- have you seen how she was in the car scene? I feel like the boys would have a run for their money.

But the genuine ask is how they would help reader prepare for her turning? The way they realize she’s turning/the full moon coming is when streaks of the traders hair starts turning white, and she gets snappy with everyone.

Hey, pookie! I got extremely carried away, so now you're getting a mini series of this cause I'm obsessed, so here's part 1!! Readers gonna be going through it next chapter though 🤣

you again for helping me make the banner. Love you sm and part two should be out in a day or two! I hope you enjoy. Also your spacing thing did work i just didn't do it right the first time 🤣🖤

Tlb x gingersnaps! Reader

Pt 2

My masterlist

Life in Santa Carla was already strange enough. Between the weirdos,the assholes and the druggies, it was already the most least popular place anybody normal would wanna be.

But after moving Here 2 years ago you found out that all of that was just the tip of the iceberg.

“ guys i really don't think this is a smart idea. For me at least.” I plead with the boys that were currently leading Me deep into the woods.

“No trust us. you will be completely fine, we won't let anything happen to you.” Marko assures as he strolls alongside me while Paul drags me by the wrist.

“Yeah! We do this all the time don't even worry about it for a second.” Paul adds on as we exit the woods into a clearing that opens Up revealing a really creepy abandon house, run down and overgrown After being left for so long.

“See there it is. told you we knew a spot And this one doesn't have David up our ass.” Paul Jokes as he climbs the porch steps, jumping over a huge hole in the wood, so he can get over to the window and hop through.

“Ta-da, and i live.” He says sarcastically as Marko climbs up next offering me a hand over the hole.

“Dumbass, you're both immortal. You'll would survive either way.” I roll my eyes as I crawl through the window taking in the room we landed in.

“ this place is creepy as fuck. Yall sure this isn't just a plan to get me away to murder me?” I joke,which results in Marko Side eyeing the hell out of me.

“We wouldn't even bother taking you this far out if we were gonna kill you. Plus you would have been dead like 2 years ago.” He replies which makes me have to stop and think for a moment about a comeback response which I give up on finding and just let him have His moment.

“Whatever dude.” I say as we split Off into different directions to Explore opposite parts of the house. I make my way towards the kitchen towards the back of the house.

The floorboards creak with every step any of us take and its not long before I hear Rythmatic footsteps going upstairs followed by a crash and Marko yelling “FUCK” accompanied by Paul cackling.

I don't bother asking if they are alright as I know the answer already.

In the kitchen I spot an arrey of objects scattered about. Everything was left behind from what it looks like and with one peek Into the maggot and mold filled fridge I'm proven very right.

As I shut the fridge Door I see a shadow move past quickly in the next doorway making me jump before rolling my eyes once again.

“Really. don't play with me. I'm not gonna fall for whatever it is your pulling here.” I groan in an unamused tone as I make my way over to the room where the shadow ran by. Finding myself in the dining room.

I quickly notice a bunch of mannequins set up at the table to look like they are eating whatever It was that used to be on those plates.

“ aren't those things freaky lookin?” A voice says from behind me making me jump and whip around to see it was just Paul who i hit in the shoulder.

“Don't fuckin do that holy shit. What are you doing in here sneaking round?” I ask him.

“Uh I just got in here. i followed you after Marko went through the stairs. He's checking out the 2nd floor now to see if some stuff we left is still here.” He answers with a grin moving past me to walk further into the room.

“ what you seeing things already? I though you said you were sober when we left?” He teases as he flips a hat off of a nearby mannequin and snatches the wig off of another, placing it on his head.

“What do you think should I go purple?” He asks as he strikes a stupid pose.

“Ooo I keep this look i could be a member of the holograms all i would need is a goddamn leotard and some pink makeup.” He jokes Once more before I snatched the wig off his head and put it back on the mannequin.

“ Oh god don't.” I say with a laugh at the thought shaking my head in false disappointment.

“ you are an actual idiot.” I tell him earning a Snicker. But just then I see that shadow rush past behind Paul and into another doorway which looks like it leads to a celler.

“ look! There it goes again! There's something in here. Like actually something just ran down there.” I point as I rush past him to peer down the steps to try and see anything.

“ what the fuck are you going on about.” He says as he approaches the celler only getting a few feet away before studdenly stopping, grabbing me by the arm and yanking me back.

“ oh fuck that, we gotta get out of here Right now.” He tells me suddenly serious As Marko come around the corner.

“ Hey we need to go i just found-” he starts before Paul Cuts him off as he drags me past him. “ Yeah we know just saw it run to the basement.” He explains as Marko tails behind us.

“Wait what the hell dude what the fuck was that? ” I ask confused as I'm not used to seeing these guys rushing to get away from anything really.

“ thats a werewolf. One of the few things on this planet that can kill us and you.” Marko replies As he looks behind us as we run to the window jumping out as quick as possible

“Werewolves, what the hell do you mean werewolves? I thought they arent real?” I asked suddenly, a lot more freaked out. I was cool Finding out vampires existed. And i was fine when learning about witches. But now werewolves? What's next mermaids?

“ girl. Let me try to ask this as nicely as possible and I'm sorry I'm gonna sound like a total dick but. Are you fuckin kidding me?” Paul asks in a sassy and almost dumbfounded manner as we Start sprinting across the field surrounding the house. Trying to make it to the woods.

" oh fucking can it you know damn well-" Before I can finish answer we hear a snarl and I'm pushed to the ground as I hear shouting and what sounds Like the boys fighting a wild animal.

I stand up as fast as I can to see Paul with this Ugly dog looking creature on top of him.

I stand there wanting to help but unsure how to and at some point while i was frozen in fear the creature got tossed off by marko, Its spine colliding with a tree trunk, a sickening crunch being heard as it slumped to the ground.

But it didnt take long for the beast to recover as i got back up and shook off the throw, and thats when i managed to get a good look at it.

Its fur was ratty and sparse across leathery looking skin. It's ribcage was showing and it's eyes burned A bright yellow under the shine of the moonlight as bared it's teeth with Saliva dripping from its mouth.

Just then I hear Marko yell at me to run and meet them back by the motorcycles and I quickly take that order and start hauling ass into the woods trying to stick on the path we originally came from.

As I run and stumble over rocks,tree roots and other things lining the forest floor I stop to catch my breath for a moment thinking I've gotten far enough away.

That is when I realized At some point I had gotten turned around and now I find myself in unfamiliar territory.

I frantically look around trying to spot anything familiar but to no avail. Only zeroing my sights on two yellow lights in the distance.

“Oh thank god.” I breath out. Thinking in my adrenaline high brain that maybe those may be headlights Or reflective markers to someone's property, so I head towards them.

Once I get closer under the light of the moon my eyes are able to dial in right and I make a horrible discovery,

Those weren't lights at all. They were eyes.

A growl rips through the air as the creature jumps on me grabbing hold of shoulder, ripping at the flesh as I scream.

Blood pours out of the wound soaking my cloaths and spurting onto my face as I try to fight against the creature getting it to release my shoulder only for it to latch onto my arm, raking it's claws down my chest while it's back claws Dig into my calf.

I manage to ise my other knee to jab it in the stomach so it let go while I use my good arm to grab a stick. Thinking fast i Stab the lycanthrope in the ear before crawling out from under it.

A deafening whine comes from the werewolf as it scratches and paws at its ear trying to get the stick out of its flesh.

But i dont look back,

I continue to crawl away using a tree to stand myself up, the blood loss making me feel dizzy as I do so and I stumble back to the ground.

Deciding to then maneuver myself between the tree and a nearby rock to hide, knowing I wouldn't be getting much farther in my condition.

I hear the snapping of twigs and branches as the werewolf approaches. Hearing it take deep breaths to try and catch my scent.

I can't see it though as my vision begins to fade and I feel myself losing consciousness.

I try to move my body but my limbs refuse and I am stuck only able to listen as what I presume to be my death approach. In those last moments though I can't help but wonder if the boys were ok.

“wake up. Wake the fuck up! I know your still alive i can hear that your heart is beating. So wake up!” I hear as I'm shook awake by a bloody Paul wild looking paul.

My eyes shoot open and my hands clutch onto the sleeve of his jacket like a lifeline as I sit up way my eyes darting around looking at everything in sight as try to gain my barings.

“ woah ok slow down. Your ok. Your alive. Just take a second.” I hear markos voice from what sounds like above me. He's probably perched on the rock that I'm hidden next to.

“ How? How the fuck am I alive?” I ask voice raspy and hoarse feeling like I haven't had a drink in years.

“good question. We were just about to ask you the same thing.” Paul Responds to you.

[skullhorn59]

Clouded Sensations

A/N: my first Hazbin Hotel Fanfic! this is going to be multi chaptered! and definitely smut >:), but this part is more a small sneak peak into what I'm planning rather than an actual chapter. if you wanna request anything, go for it! Tags are going to get added progressively!

Pairings: Valentino x Fem!Reader Legend: ❲☆❳ - flashback, 『♡』 = change of scenes Warnings/Promises: Valentino, Manipulation, Drugs (his smoke/saliva), flirting, alcohol, smoking

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

Minors DNI 🚨🚔

Valentino is sitting comfortably on the leather seat in the booth of one of his many clubs throughout Hell. beside him are two demons, employees of his, Dia and Summer. the two girls sit on the pimps lap as he takes a long drap of his cigarette and blows out it's red smoke. the other two Vee's are sitting in the same booth, but don't pay very much attention.

You are at the bar, just another demon trying to make a living, without being put too much into the spotlight. you never wanted to be noticed by the Vee's, at least not more than necessary. yeah - just trying to survive. from time to time, you get out from the bar to bring out drinks to guests, giving them a friendly smile if they give you a tip.

as you're ordered to bring another round of drinks to the Vee's booth, you can't shake the feeling of being watched. you pick up the tray of glasses before you make your way over, already so self-conscious about yourself that you walk very stiff. you have never been the type of demon for revealing clothes, not even as you were alive. everything you own covered you good, and you always wear black, helping you blend in better - or so you thought.

as you put the glasses down, Vox regards you with a glance, and Velvette ignores you completely. relieved, you turn to leave, but then you notice the Moth Demons grin. it looks almost predatory.

you turn to leave, but your wrist is quickly grabbed by one of his hands, his skin is cool to the touch. he nearly purrs as he begins speaking. "Why don't you stay and join us, Cariño?"

you feel your face heat up, and you try to keep your voice from shaking as you answer the Overlord.

"I'm sorry, Sir, but I have work to do. and besides, I'm not very fond of shar-.." your voice breaks, and you have to clear your throat before finishing your sentence, "... sharing."

you free your wrist from his grip, and hastily hurry away, into the safety of the bar. Fuck! you denied THE Valentino! for as much as you knew about him, he killed sinners for less! before panic could settle in, you take a deep breath and continue your work, trying to avoid any gazes towards the booth.

but Valentino wasn't going to give up this easily. he watches you from across the room, his eyes tracing your every movement. after a while, he stands up and with a flick of one of his wrists, gestures the two female demons to leave. he then saunters over to the bar, leaning against it casually. "Whats your poison?", he asks with a charming grin, letting his eyes roam over the array of bottles behind the counter.

as you look up from the glass you were cleaning, you freeze for a moment. no way he came here for you, right? ... Right??? you keep yourself calm and pretend not to give a single care in the world as you lower your gaze back to the glass, keeping your movements steady and casual, your voice calm as you respond.

"I'm a lightweight. a few glasses of a good Vodka Cola mix, and I'm done for. although," you tilt your head, lost in thought for a moment, your heart pounding against your chest in both fear and unwanted desire, "I've never had any hangovers. not even as I was alive. and I never have memory loss either. it's kinda cool." oh God, you have to stop telling so many details!! you're practically serving him your weaknesses on a silver platter!

The Moth Demon regards you a toothy smirk, his gold tooth reflecting the light off of it. "you have good taste, Cariño. I'll invite you on a couple of glasses.~", his voice is practically dripping with venomous honey.

you raise an eyebrow at him, but begin preparing two glasses with the mix. "you know, I'm still working my shift, so I'm not too keen on getting drunk just now." - "I know Conchita, don't worry your pretty little head about it.~" he leans forward on his elbows, his lower pair of arms resting on his hips as he grabs the glass you just finished pouring. the Overlord downs it in one gulp, before setting the glass down. as he notices your stare, he licks his lips seductively.

wait, is Valentino flirting with you?? Holy fuck. this is suuuuch a dangerous game you're playing. if you make a mistake, you're as good as dead. but at this point, you can't just stop. rather drunk at work than dead, right?...

"Right.", you say out loud, raising your own glass to your lips. you notice how his gaze lingers on you, he practically undresses you with his eyes alone. you catch yourself staring at his eyes with half lidded eyes, slowly downing your own glasses contents. May Lucifer help you, you're a lost cause...

A/N: I hope you enjoyed this snipped, leave a comment if you wanna be added to the taglist, and I'll add you right away!~ and hey, if you got any suggestions/ideas, please do tell! I'm all ears! :)

─❲♡❳▷Hazbin Masterlist ─❲♡❳▷Main List

[jennilah]

a very dumb deep dive

gather round, i saw a few people say they want to crawl into the head of someone who had trouble telling Hoffman and Strahm apart upon first viewing. I offer mine for the picking because i think ive identified, at least in MY personal experience, the various elements that came together that formed the ultimate confusion

if this is not relatable nor informative, i hope it is at least a little silly. this is all in good fun and obviously the difference between them is clear as day to me now

this will be longer than it should be.

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER ONE...

I do not remember character names. Not until they are recurring, or I've rewatched a film a few times. Sometimes it will take me an entire 12-21 episode season length for me to know characters by name in a show. I've seen some Saw films more than 6 times now and I still don't know everyone in the traps 🤷‍♀️

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER TWO..

at the time of watching Saw IV for the first time, the madness has not yet set in for Hoffman and Strahm for me. In fact, I didn't like either of them. I wasn't looking at them with my deranged eyes yet.

Without my crazy brain activated, sometimes I'll get face blindness between people who have similar enough hair and stuff. I'll use clothes as an identifier if I can

Meaning, I didn't notice anything like face details, mannerisms, body shapes- to me, it was one dark haired white guy in a suit and another dark haired white guy in a suit who both worked in law enforcement.

uh oh

PRECURSOR POINT NUMBER THREE..

in a very elaborate plot like this with many interwoven stories being told, especially with police procedure, has a lot of details that get lost on me upon first watch because I simply easily misunderstand what is happening. I zone out on stuff like legal talk because I don't know that world at all, and the more general plot information to absorb, the more I forget.

"But [character] SAYS..!" oh, I'm aware! If you pay attention and can remember character names, everything is pretty clear in this movie!

so between all three points, you see where I'm starting to go with this.

THAT BRINGS US TO..

Saw IV. let me describe to you what I believe my thought process was to the best of my memory.

This guy shows up. as far as I knew, this was the first time I've met this character. I forgot he was in Saw III because he was only in it for a second and I definitely don't remember him among the sea of other characters.

ok. sure. new detective because the others are dead. got it 👌

next time we see him is a few minutes later, now in this lighting. I don't have his features memorized yet. I'm pretty sure I put it together that it was the same guy as before, and I see he's in a new outfit.

keep in mind he is not at all referred to with a NAME yet, until Perez shows up and introduces all three of them at the same time

here comes "Strahm," as he was quickly introduced in practically the same breath, from the FBI. and he looks like this.

I mentally go "ok FBI guy in the suit" because my occasional bout of face blindness is activating rn. The problems are on the horizon for me

I survived that scene, but the scene right after? I'm doomed.

Major Confusion #1:

this treacherous interrogation footage, ft Hoffman's ass and slutty, slutty suspenders (but I did NOT give him even a second glance here yet. genuinely.)

I'm 100% sure I just didn't know who I was looking at in this footage at all just because of the outfit change

and then the boys are back in town. and they're BOTH WEARING THIS...

This was mean. this was fucked. I was doomed. My brain is already churning trying to keep up with what the footage was, now there's two dark haired white men in dark suits. Who was who again? I think the guy who just turned off the TV was the new detective. The guy who was talking to the Swat guy before. Yeah....

Major Confusion #2:

Next time we see them, Strahm and Perez are watching the interrogation footage. They quickly start talking Jigsaw stuff and my mind is already working overtime figuring out what information is and isn't important to hold on to.

Hoffman says hello for like 1 minute and then fucks off.

My brain is going "ok.. that footage was an old interrogation... mhm..."

this is the information my brain has decided to retain from that scene for later.

Major Confusion #3

this dark haired white guy in a suit got kidnapped idfk. the shots are all very short and he's enshrouded in shadow or SUPER close-up, and I don't know to recognize him by his lips yet. clearly Im more focused on his hair color and suit, so this could be fuckin anyone

Perez said something about officers being in danger earlier, I think I thought maybe it was irony and the cocky FBI guy was the one who got kidnapped instead? i dont know.

then after the first test of Rigg's game, you see Perez and Strahm again for a SECOND. I def didn't pay them much attention. My mind is elsewhere- the insanity of the previous scene

Major Confusion #4:

then FINALLY... we see Hoffman again in the slut chair

and what have we learned about me so far?

let me sum up my logic for you

Now, if only I was certain on their names..

I'm not going to go over every single scene, but I guarantee you, the confusion was fully set in by this point. That detective from the beginning either really just went home, or he was working with Perez. Or maybe it's the FBI guy and someone else is in the chair? No idea.

My brain retained that one slightly misguided bit of information from the interrogation footage and thought This Guy, Whoever This Guy Is, was interrogating Jill a second time. (Wrong.)

there was no memory of the guy's big ass in that footage or anything. that was also way the fuck in the intro and there was a LOT more that happened between then and now in the movie to remember now. and people really don't say each other's names that often.

Yeah there's also that flashback footage showing The Guy In the Chair and Rigg back in the day, but I was too far gone. That was simply the story of how That Guy and Art Blanc knew each other.

and boy does Chair Guy not do much for the rest of the movie, so there was not much more info about his identity that I could try to work out. Maybe he was just some new random guy meant to die in someone else's game because he is kind of a dirty cop?

Pretty sure I was resigned to the fact that I was watching completely utterly confused by the third act.

then fucking JEFF DENLON shows up and i remember either mentally or physically throwing my hands up like "ok now i REALLY dont know whats going on"

I remember I was still excited by the thrill of it, just completely lost as to who was who and what the fuck was going on.

as Eric Matthews was yelling "WHO'S COMING THROUGH THAT DOOR?" i remember going "I DONT KNOW, MAN!!!!!!"

The Grand Clear-up:

THE REVEAL.

Through the power of the Hello Zepp reveal montage, I finally understood "OHHHH YOU'RE THE DETECTIVE FROM THE BEGINNING!!!"

i had other confusions that i eventually worked out, but I went into Saw V much more clear on who was who. There was Hoffman the evil detective, and Strahm the jerk FBI guy (who I then softened up to throughout V, no longer thinking he was a jerk)

and, if I couldn't physically tell who was on screen because I still struggled a little bit with that... I looked for Strahm's bandage :)

and thats my story lmao...

anyway finding out just how many other people mixed them up or confused them or couldn't tell them apart makes me feel so validated thank u. i understand u

[iamnmbr3]

Hi it's me!🙋‍♀️

My roman empires these days:

■ the way Harry describes Draco's clothes in yule ball is one thing but funnier thing is when Harry thinks he looks like a vicar i love it lmao(idk is it considered as good or bad, compliment or...???)

■ in GOF Ron is the first one who notices Hermione's teeth length have changed, not Harry..guess whose details Harry notices 24*7? (skin colour, mood, height, etc)

■ Harry lied to MLE for Draco(at least talked in passive voice so it wasn't obvious who did those things) so why should Draco need a trial?! I think these two are impossible together, either MLE knows nothing about Draco's deeds and there's no trial or they know everything and there is a trial for him..idk did i miss something..

1) I don't think Harry meant it as a compliment. But also, it's notable that he's looking. What's up with that Harry? Draco also has opinions on Harry's clothes too - in one of the books he makes derogatory comments about Harry's Christmas jumper. They are both really out there like 'wow i hate that guy so much. and he has a terrible fashion sense. want to hear my detailed opinions on every outfit he's ever worn?' (Their friends must be so Tired TM).

2) Lol omg yeah good catch! Ron immediately notices when a tiny detail about Hermione, the person he has complicated and growing romantic feelings for, changes. Because he's hyper aware of her and what she looks like. Similarly, Harry catalogues every detail about Draco and immediately notices tiny differences - like his skin tone changing a bit in book 6 - before anyone else does. Hm... Wonder what could be up there...

3) Post book 7 a lot more information about Draco's crimes would be available. Draco would probably be rounded up as a known Death Eater. He's got the Dark Mark and other Death Eaters who were captured would have named him (especially given how hated his family became). From an outsider POV the fact that Voldemort was using the Manor as a base and was keeping prisoners there makes it look like Draco and his family were high up, favored members of the inner circle (and the postwar wizarding world would be unlikely to be sympathetic to "no actually he mistreated us too. we didn't even want him in our house. no really"). Draco would be seen as being complicit in the kidnappings, imprisonment, torture and murders that took place in his house. And to be fair, he was, however unhappily and unwillingly, complicit in all that. He was one of the jailers holding people prisoner there (albeit a minor one and quite possibly something of a prisoner himself in his own house, possibly even without the ability to release people even if he had wanted to). Survivors of that experience would be able to name him as responsible.

If any of the other Death Eaters who were on the Astronomy Tower survived and were captured they would also be able to name him as responsible for at least some of the events that occurred there (Harry's probably out there like 'nope. they're definitely lying. You're really going to believe the Carrows over me?' lolol /hj).

He also used Unforgivables on fellow Death Eaters on Voldemort's orders - probably there were other incidents like the Rowle incident that Harry witnessed - which some of his surviving fellows could reveal. Probably most wizards would not be receptive to the "no I swear I didn't want to do it. I was forced." argument. Except of course, Harry can actually provide evidence this is true due to his mental connection to Voldemort.

Therefore, I imagine he'd be on trial for aiding and abetting the Death Eaters, an illegal paramilitary organization, multiple counts of imprisonment and kidnapping, providing aid and material comfort and support to the wanted criminal Lord Voldemort (by being complicit in letting him use his house as a base), multiple counts of the use of Unforgivables for torture, accessory to murder (all the prisoners who were killed in his house), possibly some sort of insurrection charge (because they'd probably assume he actively fought on the side of the Death Eaters at the Battle of Hogwarts), possibly a generalized count of crimes against Muggleborns due to his involvement with the Death Eaters, AND if someone spilled the beans on the Astronomy Tower incident - one count of using the Imperius curse on Madam Rosmerta, multiple counts of attempted murder, and one count of accessory to the murder of Albus Dumbledore.

So yeah. Not looking great for him. Now there's a lot of important context around these charges. A lot of this context is information ONLY Harry can provide or verify. So Harry's testimony would be critical in proving that Draco didn't do some of these things or was coerced and in proving that he had a change of heart.

In fact, given the likely postwar climate and Draco's last name and seeming heavy involvement as a diehard Death Eater loyalist who was so favored by Voldemort that he was granted the rare honor of a Dark Mark while still in school, I take the fact that Draco isn't rotting in prison postwar (and apparently didn't do any prison time at all according to supplemental material) as incontrovertible evidence that Harry spoke for him at his trial. Which delights my drarry heart.