#quickly made this because it came to me like visions to a prophet

[eloves-writes]

feeling’s mutual

[max verstappen x reader]

desc: max overhears his teammate having some alone time in her driver’s room, and can’t help himself knocking on to see what she’s doing

warnings: swearing, masturbation (f+m), mutual masturbation, implied age gap, dom!max

a/n: this came to me like a prophetic vision. just kidding, except not really bc i wrote this so fast. it’s like 2am and i need to sleep, but i hope you enjoy, requests open as always (!!), comments and reblogs are so so loved and appreciated (just like you!). mwah mwah mwah ily

this work contains mature themes, minors do not interact

——————————————————

the first practice session had been rough; you were new to redbull after getting promoted from f2 mid-season, and you weren’t quite getting used to the car as quick as you’d hoped. pair that with some subpar upgrades and you’d been left in the middle of the time sheet, whilst your teammate had topped the board like always. to make matters worse, your boyfriend, a fellow f2 driver, had dumped you when you moved up and the sexual frustration was started to grate on you too.

luckily, you’d managed to weasel your way out of media commitments and strategy meetings between the two practice sessions and had some time to kill two birds with one stone and attempt to release some tension with your trusty vibrator. it came in a carry case that made it look completely unsuspicious in your handbag, and after a quick check outside your driver’s room to make sure nobody was lingering, you took it out and began to undress from the waist down.

for some reason, the image of your teammate came to mind as you turned the toy to its lowest setting and placed it against you. the way his hand would linger on your waist when he spoke to you, the feeling of him pressed up against your back as he tried to move past you in a crowded garage, your tits on his chest through the fabric of your suits on the rare occasion he hugged you. even his voice, that dutch accent, and the anger in it when he came back to the redbull suite after a bad session.

quickly, waves of pleasure were sent through your body and you turned up the vibrator to the next intensity. god, he could be so insufferable sometimes. complaining about podiums because he didn’t win, moaning about every interview he had to give as if he wasn’t the reigning world champion. and he was older than you, not by too much, but enough that the thought of him fucking you made you wet with a sort of dirty lust you didn’t feel with men your own age. as you started to really feel good, you let out a small, breathy whimper that wouldn’t have been heard by anybody, except that max himself was in his own driver’s room beside yours listening closely, practically with his ear against the wall.

he’d heard a quiet, mechanical whirring as he scrolled through his phone, and thought nothing of it- a common sound to hear at an f1 track. it wasn’t until he really listened, and noticed an accompaniment of heavy female breathing that he realised the direction the sound was coming from; your room. his younger, beautiful teammate who he could never touch, but could perversely rake his eyes over whenever you wore something tight, short, or low cut. admittedly, he felt like a bit of a creep thinking of you in such a way whilst you were doing nothing at all sexual, but this was different. he could listen. and it wasn’t his fault, really, that he could hear you. and it really wasn’t his fault that he could hear you moan his name, and that his legs seemed to be taking him out of his door and towards yours.

you didn’t mean to say it out loud, it had just slipped out, but the sound of it painfully turned you on so you tried it again and found yourself coming closer to the release you’d been craving so badly. you whispered it again, ready to bring yourself over the edge, before being so rudely interrupted by a knock on your door.

“shit,” you whispered, fumbling to turn the vibrator off and find some pants. you’d left some sweatpants on the floor and quickly pulled them up, hopping over to your door. you opened it to be met with the face of the man you’d been fantasising about. your cheeks involuntarily blushed a crimson, ferrari red.

“max!” you started, trying to act normal. how the fuck did you speak to him again? “what’s up?”

that definitely wasn’t it. max smirked, raising an eyebrow to look beyond you and to the sofa you’d been laying on moments before. “just checking you’re ok,” he spoke slowly.

“yeah?” you replied as fast as you could. “why wouldn’t i be ok?”

he chuckled softly. “i … heard something. thin walls.”

your face dropped again. you scrambled for something to say, an explanation, but max beat you to it.

“can i come in?”

you nodded slowly, letting him into your room and closing the door behind him. you felt sheepish, stupid for not keeping yourself quiet. you couldn’t look him in the eye, despite where your mind had been wandering previously.

“did you finish?” he asks, not struggling at all to make eye contact like you were.

you didn’t know what you expected him to say, but it wasn’t that. you stayed silent, trying and failing again to think of a response.

“i asked, y/n,” he repeated himself, “did you finish?”

his expression was not one that you’d seen on him before, and you found yourself shaking your head. “no.”

he took a seat in the chair opposite the sofa. “go on then,” he dared. you looked at him like he’d just asked you to rear end him on the track on sunday. “show me what you were doing. i want to watch.”

stunned into silence once again, your hands operated separately from your brain and pushed your sweatpants to the floor. you lay back down on the sofa, taking up the same position as earlier, and picked up your vibrator that you’d promptly shoved behind a cushion when he’d knocked. he didn’t look away once, his eyes darting from your face to your wet cunt between your open legs. you placed the toy against you once again and switched it back on. it felt so much more intense now, both from how close you’d been before and from max watching you. he didn’t say anything as you started to rhythmically move your hips in response to the vibrations, but slid a hand into his pants to stroke himself in time with your movements.

the orgasm came back to you quickly, and as you moved faster so did max’s hand on his cock.

“say my name, schat, like you did before.”

your eyes flickered over to him before you obliged without the confidence you’d said it with when you were alone.

“no, no. look at me,” he demanded. just the sight of him stroking himself, watching you get yourself off, made you moan his name again, properly.

“good girl, that’s better.”

that earned another moan from you, making you cum and release onto the sofa with a whine of pleasure. max finished himself almost instantly, spilling into his own hand. you passed him a tissue, but he shook his head.

“for your …” you said, confused.

he offered his palm out to you, covered in his release. “clean it up, schat.”

if he wanted to play it that way, you could play too. you held the bottom of his hand, and sat your still wet and naked cunt over his thigh before fixing your eyes on his and licking his cum from his hand.

“that’s cute,” he said sarcastically. “now there’s a wet spot on my jeans, looks like i’ve pissed myself.”

you shrugged your shoulders innocently and hopped off him, pulling your sweatpants on again.

he stood up and stepped towards you, towering over you. he tilted your face up to his, and leaned in. “we’ll see who’s laughing when i make you sit there again tonight. i’m not done with you yet.”

[airplanned]

Silence. 12

Table of Contents....Chapter 1

.

Zelda had always assumed that her nightmares of the approaching Calamity were created from pieces of her fears and imagination.  She was terrified that the Calamity would come and she would fail and the country would fall, and so she dreamed of that happening.  She assumed her subconscious had made the great beast look like a boar because of the rather creepy tapestry in the Sheikah's meeting room.

But if Link was seeing the same thing in his dreams, then it was not a construction.  It was a vision.

The knowledge that she was having prophetic visions did not cheer her, given that she would let her kingdom fall to ruin.  Besides that, it couldn't be a sign of burgeoning sacred power if Link had the visions too.  Maybe it was a warning sent by the Goddess (which would imply she did know who Zelda was and how to reach her!), and maybe a lot of the monks and acolytes had had the same dream and simply found it less upsetting than Link.

Zelda had certainly hardened herself against the nightmares a bit.  At least she no longer woke up crying.

And then the weekly delivery of supplies to the abbey came late.

The abbey didn't require much from the outside world.  They were mostly self-sufficient with the exception of flour and meat that wasn't poultry  (and beef was hardly a necessity). Aside from these food stuffs, they mostly received items like soap and cloth and materials to pursue their artistic endeavors.

This all usually came once a week, carried by a donkey.  

But this week, the donkey moved more quickly, either because of its smaller burden or because the man leading it was so embarrassed that he wanted to leave as quickly as he could.

A small crease formed between the abbot's eyebrows as the man from Gate Town unloaded two bags of flour in front of the kitchen and then lifted his hat enough to bashfully scratch his head.  Only flour.  No fabric or beef from Hateno.  No goldenrod or midnight blue paint from Deya.

"Sorry, sir," the man said.  He always used the unnecessary honorific, and always ducked a little bow.  No one ever corrected him.  "The shipment from over east didn't arrive.  We think monsters got it.  There's been an awful lot of them lately."

Zelda froze in her tending to the mustard greens.  Monsters.  More of them lately.

The colors of Link's painting danced behind her eyes.

She looked up to find the abbot's gaze locked on her, but he looked away quickly, nodding his thanks and understanding to the man and then drawing a triangle in the air before his face, blessing his trip back home.

Zelda quickly went back to the greens, but her mind spun.  The Calamity pressed closer each day and yet she made no progress.  No progress at all.

You are such a failure!  Do you want people to die?  Do you want them to go hungry? Do you want Castletown in flames?

She chopped hard at the greens with her sheers, shnuk shnuck shnuck, berating herself with every clip, with every hammer of failure, failure, failure.

She nearly chopped off a finger when someone grabbed her arm, and then she almost stabbed Link when she whipped around to face him.  He was breathing hard and sweating, his eyes wide with fear that had nothing to do with the sharp blades in her hand and her careless use of them.  In fact, he seemed not to have noticed them at all.

A moment of staring at her, almost without seeing, and he closed his eyes and heaved a breath, his tight shoulders sinking.

Had he run here?  He'd been chopping firewood off in the woods.

She tucked her sheers under her armpit to ask, What happened?!  Had they been attacked?!  Where the monsters here?!

He shook his head, then gripped it with both hands, squeezing his eyes closed and shuddering.

The voices had gotten bad again.

She gave him a sympathetic look, and set down her sheers so she could squeeze both his arms.  (At least it wasn't monsters.)

You came to me?

He hesitated.  You're good.  You make me think that I could be good too.  

She boggled at him, because she was anything but good. The world was going to end because of her.  She was a mess.

He seemed to misunderstand her skepticism, because he explained a little too fast, It's calming to remember that you believe in me.  That you don't think I'm a lost cause.  Because I think you would tell me if I was.

She rolled her eyes at that and pressed one finger to her lips.  She'd taken a vow of charity.

He snorted quietly.  Then he started to rattle off something else that was far too fast and with far more grammar than she could follow and she ended up interrupting him.

He blinked, then collected himself and said simply, Sorry.

What for?

I something you.

What?

In frustration, he looked around, then in excitement picked up a rock, presented it to her, and pointed at it.

She lifted an unimpressed eyebrow.  I'm a rock?

He grabbed his head again in frustration and exasperation.

You're my rock.  My rock.  You are a rock.   Something something rock. Yes?

Her face turned red.  Her fingers stroked over the rock's surface, and she lowered her eyes to look at it.

I'm not a rock.  I'm...

How could any single gesture encapsulate her failure?  Even if she knew the word, it wouldn't be enough.

Such a failure.

His grip on her wrists tightened, and a tear splattered against the stone in her hand.  Even as her vision blurred, she rubbed it away with her thumb.

Link's hands cupped her face.  Lifted her head.  He looked...concerned?  Confused?  Angry?

He brushed the tears from her eyes, then gestured, first with one hand and then with two when he started getting into it and felt he could let go of her face.  You are--then he rattled off a half dozen signs, none of which she followed.  But the enthusiasm she understood.  Even if it was completely misplaced as he apparently sung her praises, she couldn't help the silent laugh that bubbled at the back of her throat.  

She wiped at her eyes, and he dropped his rant to help her.  Brushing her cheeks.  Holding her face.  Looking into her eyes.

The bell rang for prayers, and when he pulled away, he was determined.  He held her hand in his and didn't let go, even as they sat in the pew, even as they began their prayers.

She looked down at their entwined fingers, defiant in the face of her failure, holding fast despite what anyone might think of their friendship.  He held fast.

The rock in her pocket pressed against her leg.

You make me think that I could be good too.

If Link thought she wasn't a lost, then maybe he was right.

Believe him.

But how could she believe him?  He didn't know what he was saying.  

She squeezed his hand tighter, closed her eyes, and focused on her breathing.

.

Chapter 13

[chloeworships]

⚠️

I had a vision of the words

“LETHAL WEAPON”

And then I saw some kind of hand held missile launcher and a solider.

When I visited Washington DC I had the chance to hold one of these rocket launchers and 2 soldiers had to put the launcher on my shoulder. brroooooooo it was HEAVY AS… LOL 😂 I couldn’t believe it. What an experience. I was so inspired I wanted to join the Navy in the spot. I grabbed an application brought it back to Canada and when I told my parents they were like Ha. Never 😞💔😅

In the second vision, I saw at least 20+ soldiers in formation standing beside canons. A General 🎖️dashed a crossed the line and in front of me yelling orders for the troops to shoot. The soldiers were modern day but the canons were from the 1800’s

I believe the LORD is saying someone’s military equipment needs an upgrade OR that someone’s current military equipment is outdated. Can you win a war with these?

I also believe the LORD is telling us the fighting will intensify.

I saw nothing to indicate there would be successful peace talks or a ceasefire… yet.

After this I saw the Archangel Gabriel’s name so I know these visions were shown to me by him.

Third vision:

God showed me a demon then an Angel came out from the Heavens with bows and arrows and started shooting this demon. The Angel was invisible 🫥 All I could see was an outline of its body, wings etc. On the tip of its wing I saw our beautiful Canadian flag 🇨🇦 It was almost like this Angel was wearing a lapel 😂

This was Archangel Uriel. He is protecting our nation. Which I I didn’t know 👀

The Angel looked EXACTLY like this (see images below) but with wings and armour and his hair was wavy like our PM’s. His arrows moved so quickly at the speed of light babes. It was super human speed. I’ve never seen anything like it. I’m not entirely sure because this part of the vision was blurry but it looked as though at the tip of the arrows was FIRE 🔥 Anywho that demon was defeated. I wanted to clap and shout with joy for having seen this victory 🏹

🤩

Maybe someone is wondering if our country will be or is safe and God is saying absolutely. AA Michael protects our nation too, under the covenant God made with Abraham as a county founded on Christian principles however this Angel was Uriel. Canada is a Promiseland 🇨🇦😃

I’m not even gonna lie babes but all of these latest visions on the military indicate to me that something is happening and preparations are being made that only a few are privy to. Something is definitely brewing because Angels only show up when it’s MAJOR.

It’s interesting because God gave me the song 🎶 Unstoppable🎶 by Sia and she talks about putting her arnour on. Then I remembered the scripture where Paul discusses putting on the armour of God. (See the post before this one).

You wouldn’t be putting on armour if you weren’t getting ready to fight yeah? OR at the very least shielding yourself from an assault.

It’s time to prepare babes ⚔️

We need to prepare for this war to escalate but please pray about this. Allow God to speak to you and to speak to the Heads of State.

About Uriel:

I had a prophetic dream almost 2 years about Uriel coming to protect me from these white supremacists who tried to attack my home in the realm. He had fire 🔥 next to him and he said to me in a slithering voice “THE FIRE OF GOD”. I spoke to all about this before.

I decided to google “what Angel has a bow and arrow” and I found this:

Recall God gave us 1 Corinthians 15:51 where Paul says “Listen, I will tell you a MYSTERY”. So what exactly is the definition of Mystery: “something that is difficult or impossible to explain” 👀

PEOPLE OF GOD!!! I am screaming!!!

Uriel is a warrior Angel babes and he was the first Angel I ever encountered. He is very special to me 😇 THIS IS BIG

Please take heed of what the LORD is saying.

PS. I’m also being told that our PM will absolutely protect our interests both domestic and foreign. I don’t even know why there is doubt about this because DUH!!! I’m just kidding, obviously there is plenty of doubt to go around but the answer is YES. We’re good. I, for one, never doubted him and his commitment to our country.

[sea2330]

7/28/2024

I dreamed that I was kidnapped and raped.

twenty years ago

I spent a year beforehand calling myself an atheist, but praying the Lord's prayer and just the Lord's prayer every night, just in case I was wrong about Christianity. i didn't really know that much about it. I had gone to Sunday school for a couple of years when I was little, but aside from that, i pretty much never went to church. I was a Christian in name only. Right before I went to sleep, I was starting to hallucinate and see red eyes staring at me, because I was developing schizophrenia then, but didn't know that at the time. I then became convinced that the eyes I was seeing were demonic, and prayed for God to deliver me from demons. I then went to sleep/had sleep paralysis. In the dream, God picked me up entirely in one hand, and then I saw that I was being carried very quickly towards an ordinary looking rock in the ocean that I thought I would trip on, 1 Peter 2:8 and then shot directly towards annothher place once reaching the rock. I can't remember much about the journey, but I think it was symbolic of how you can only get into Heaven through Jesus Christ, John 14:6, then cornerstone Ephesians 2:20. Then the first thing I remember is standing in this place that was completely white, Revelation 20:11. I then hear something about being in the presence of God, and needing to bow, Romans 14:11 and how great an honor this was, I think. I couldn't see the speaker, I just know the voice came from that place. The first thing I remember was being excited and trying to remember all of the questions I would ask if I ever met God. Yes, I was actually arrogant enough to assume that someda that that would happen, evenn though there was never a good reason for thinking it other than I prayed for it all of the time growing up. I think the first thing I asked was when the second coming was, or the end, or something like that. I kept asking, and God kept refusing to tell me, until eventually he said, "You are not worthy," Mark 13:32. I then got really upset and started talking about my suffering asking why he only came now, after my life at school was in shambles. When I tried asking him about judging other people that I thought had hurt me He didn't answer. He then went on to point out that John the Baptist had suffered, and been beheaded for God. He said something about metal being refined by fire, and in my mind I saw an image of a sword being crafted using fire. 1 Peter 1:7. While I was bowing, I looked behind me and under my arms and saw figures sitting on thrones, and watching Revelation 11:16. I couldn't make them out very well because my vision was incredibly blurry in this dream, and everything was so bright. I had trouble counting, but when I woke up I tried estimating how many I had seen, and I guessed about 18. Near the end of the conversation I asked about being a prophet, because at the time I was delusional and thought I was one, or at least able to see the future even if not by God, and he said, "You are not sent." Jeremiah 23:21. When I asked about the Trinity, I was told something about the body of Christ being made up of many parts, Romans 12:5.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

ruined, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Why is there a mostly shirtless man in your bedroom and why is it Kim Namjoon's, your roommate's, fault? All you want to do is play League of Legends, not be visually attacked by ridiculously attractive Jeon Jungkook as his six friends perform living room karaoke at the top of their very drunk lungs.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; classic Namjoon ripping clothes; you don't have to know how to play LoL, I explain most of it; smut (fem reader, dirty talk, begging, scratching / marking, nipple play, edging / orgasm denial, handjob, (unintentional?) voyeurism, little bit of cum-eating, choking, cowgirl, cock warming); non-idol!BTS – purple-haired, kind-of-a-brat, sub!Jungkook x gamer, noona, dom!reader, ft OT6 being chaotic in the background XD

@yn-the-reader linked me in this and I was already writing about him. a prophet, maybe? XD

--

“WHY ARE YOU SHIRTLESS?”

You died.

Not literally, but also literally.

“Fuck!”

Now you had thirty-seven seconds of gray screen to figure out why the fuck Jeon Jungkook had busted into your bedroom on this cheerful night with his black dress shirt three-quarters of the way unbuttoned, revealing most of his – oh, sweet Satan, very muscular – pecs and the upper half of his abs. He was holding something in his hands, looking helpless and sad, while you were panic buying Liandry's Anguish and experiencing a special form of anguish yourself.

“Noona, um–”

That’s right, because you were in the middle of a League of Legends game, playing Cassiopeia, the Serpent’s Embrace, also known as half-snake lady or the lamia of the champion roster or a mean version of Monster Musume’s Miia (if you know, you know, and if you don’t, be glad you don’t). Your roommate was having friends over after going drinking. All this was fine and dandy with you, because you were going to spend all night wearing headphones and playing League of Legends, therefore ignoring the outside world, until the outside world came to bother you in the form of Kim Namjoon’s – your roommate’s – mostly shirtless friend Jeon Jungkook.

He wasn’t mostly shirtless most of the time, only right now.

“Noona, Namjoon-hyung ripped my shirt…” Jungkook whimpered hesitantly, chewing on his lip. He looked awkward and distraught despite his long dark purple hair giving him a rather fierce, bad-boy look.

Namjoon was a great roommate. He was smart, conversational, and insightful. A chat with him usually led to an enriching, open-minded perspective. He was relatively clean, considerate, communicative, nonjudgmental, fun to be around, and only set the kitchen on fire twice.

The second time was your fault.

You shouldn’t have let Namjoon in the kitchen the second time.

Also, Namjoon with his friends was a wildly chaotic time. All of his friends, especially drunk, were fucking nuts. Normally, they were probably relatively calm people (maybe not Kim Seokjin or Jung Hoseok, they were very excitable), but together they were a mess. You often wondered how they could function as a group.

Currently, however, you were trying to collect your brain cells as you had mere seconds before respawning onto the platform and were forced to play again. Timing in League of Legends was very important. Seconds can mess up wave management of minions and wave mismanagement can lead to game losses if you weren’t careful. The nuances of the game were often ignored by casual players.

You were, in short, a nerd about it.

“Fucking s-shit, what h-happened?” you sputtered out, turning back to your screen, unable to look at mostly shirtless Jungkook because he was MOSTLY SHIRTLESS. Honestly, he had quite nice pecs, and you should not be thinking about that, but it was incredibly distracting, just like how it used to be distracting when Namjoon was shirtless, but several years of living with him made you accustomed to his impressive pectoral muscles, to the point where you could joke about them with him.

But this was not Namjoon – this was his younger friend Jungkook and you had no idea Jungkook was ripped, mostly because you didn’t pay attention to Namjoon’s friends.

There were too many of them and you were too introverted for that.

“I don’t know, he just grabbed my shirt and it ripped and I managed to find all the buttons, but, but…”

Cassiopeia respawned on the platform and you couldn’t ignore the snake lady any longer. You had to play the game because four random people on your team were counting on you and you couldn’t exactly type, sorry, there’s a hot man in my room with his shirt practically off and I don’t know what to do with my life, so you had to suck it up and play the damn game.

Right-clicking and keeping your eyes only on your computer monitor.

Half-listening to that trembling, silvery voice coming up behind you, making your hairs stand on end even though all he was doing was dumping the tiny buttons on your desk.

Oh, fuck me, you thought to yourself.

“Can you repair it? Please? My mom bought me this shirt and Namjoon-hyung said you can sew, so maybe you can sew them back on? Please?”

“Yes, Jungkook, I can, just not right now, I’m in the middle of a game,” you rambled, suddenly trading damage with the enemy Viktor, trying to avoid the laser from the Machine Herald, swearing under your breath as you stutter-stepped and stunned him, poisoning him quickly enough with your abilities to avoid dying. “I will help you, I just – fucking shit, get the fuck away from me Udyr, fuck!”

“Wow, you curse a lot, noona. It’s kind of funny.”

“I – fuck– I mean, sometimes, and what are you guys doing out there? It sounds like a deranged cabaret club,” you remarked, ticking your head towards the direction of your bedroom door.

“Karaoke!” Jungkook replied brightly, still standing behind you, why was he standing behind you, it was freaking you out a little, but Ocean Dragon was being taken and a team fight was about to happen, so you had to ignore it and support your teammates in chasing down the enemy support.

Seokjin hit a high note that was so shrill that you heard it through your headphones.

“… Wow, he’s got some lungs on him.”

“Do you wanna join us, noona?”

“I can’t sing.”

“Neither can we.”

“Pretty sure all of you can sing better than I can, even Yoongi and Namjoon. I’m fucking terrible.”

“I’m not that good.”

You barely survived with thirty hit points after that debacle of a team fight, but your team had the dragon and you all were slowly on your way to victory. You pressed the ‘B’ key to return to base, but kept your eyes on the screen, lest Udyr, the Spirit Walker and serial bear stun-slapping enemy jungler, ran your ass down and killed you.

“Jungkook, your voice is absolutely heavenly. Fucking beautiful. I’m sure every human being on Earth would want to be serenaded by you.”

Silence that you didn’t notice was awkward for him because you were too busy letting out a sigh of relief and building your next item, typing quickly to your teammates. You all were about to set up for vision around Baron Nashor, a large purple worm-dragon monster that when killed provided a significant, sometimes game-ending buff.

“R… really?”

“Yeah, and you’re handsome, gorgeous, and hot as hell too, so the whole damn package,” you responded absentmindedly, realizing the enemy were trying to split-push and trade objectives so you sent some pings to your teammate to take care of that as you accompanied the main group to help clear waves of minions.

Heat.

You heard him shift beside you and suddenly his face was next to yours, watching your screen closely.

Side-step, cast your ultimate, cast your Miasma ability to ground the enemies and prevent them from dashing away, switching between auto-attacking and piercing them with Twin Fang, all in the span of a mild freak-out because why was Jungkook so FUCKING close?

“Wow, you’re so good at League.”

“I’m Diamond rank, so not that good, but definitely better than all seven of you combined.”

“Haha, true, we’re all pretty bad,” Jungkook laughed next to your ear and, oh, shit, is warm breath feathered on your neck, why weren’t you wearing a turtleneck or something and not your self-cropped oversized band t-shirt and slinky black leggings, why weren’t you cocooned in layers of clothes, because you were quickly highly aware of how attractive Namjoon’s friends were.

To top it all off, you were in the middle of a game, so you just had to tolerate it and stay calm for the sake of your teammates and your elo.

“Maybe you could teach us and we’ll teach you something in return.”

“You guys don’t even listen to each other, why would I assume you all would listen to me?”

“I’d listen to you, noona.”

Now your team was doing the Baron dance, skirting in and out of vision, daring the other team to make a move, daring each other to make a mistake so the other could capitalize on it, slowly, slowly, watch the waves, watch the minimap. Careful. You could control the situation if you were calm and not too trigger-happy. Tension in your fingers and tension in your neck because your roommate’s friend was right next to your head, observing your every move.

His violet hair brushed your shoulder.

Soft, delicate strands against your skin.

“You’re more experienced, so you would know what to do.”

Your support snap-engaged a fight and you were immediately in the zone, right clicking rapidly, cycling through your abilities, keeping track of the opponents’ spells, determined not to let any of them get away, following your teammate’s calls and not hesitating, because hesitation as death and loss, and you were so close to winning you could taste it, going after it with passionate vigor and a slow-forming grin, seeing and hearing the in-game announcer declaring, QUADRA KILL.

You didn’t kill all five of them because someone took the pentakill from you.

You might have cared about that except your ear exploded into clapping as Jungkook excitedly applauded for you, cheering you on, reminding you that a mostly shirtless man was standing right next to you.

Thanks, Namjoon, you thought sarcastically.

“Wow, you played that so well, dodging the Viktor ult and stunning three people like that–”

You felt your cheeks heat at the compliments, busying yourself with your team killing Baron. You didn’t usually have someone commenting on your games. Your eyes flickered to the small buttons on your desk.

Especially not a mostly shirtless guy.

Mostly shirtless hot guy.

Back to screen, seeing your jungler’s typed instructions, suggesting you all to destroy as many structures as you could and then prepare for the next fight for Ocean Dragon Soul and – oh? Your eyebrows raised as the screen abruptly jerked to the enemy base, the nexus inside exploding into shiny gem-like fragments that became the VICTORY banner.

“They surrendered?” you uttered with surprise, clicking on the CONTINUE button. “Why?”

Your eyes flickered to the kill score.

“Oh, thirty-two to nine… maybe that’s why….”

Your team had the nine deaths and the opponent team had thirty-two so, well, maybe that’s why they surrendered the game.

“Aw, that’s no fun,” Jungkook pouted as you clicked on the damage screen. Second most damage. Okay, you could take that. You were a little distracted.

“So, about your problem–”

You spun around to, ack, realize that, yes, Jungkook’s shirt was still flapped wide open to expose his chest like an unwrapped piece of caramel candy. He seemed to realize it too, making a surprised face and yanking the sides closed, as if you hadn’t gotten a damn eyeful already.

“I can resew the buttons back on, but you should borrow a shirt from Namjoon in the meantime,” you managed to say, clearing your throat. “Because I, ah, can’t really sew it when you’re still wearing the shirt.”

“Oh… Oh, right, yeah.”

Then he started yanking his shirt out of his slacks.

UMMMMMMM.

Usually, you didn’t care about this stuff. Men were men. They had chests. But you had things you liked too. Just like how men like tits and ass, you liked well-built pecs and forearms. Actually, you appreciated a nice ass and thighs too. And cute faces. Fuck, you loved a cute face.

“Uh, Jungkook…”

He looked up, questioningly. Big round brown eyes, his violet bangs framing his chiseled jaw, parted pink lips, the small mole underneath his lower lip looking so, so kissable, quivering slightly.

Fuck, Jungkook had a cute face.

His shirt was very open.

Fuck, his lightly tanned skin.

He was hesitating around a button, his deft fingers flexed, ink black tattoos standing out on his knuckles and the back of his hand. Your legs were slightly spread, thighs flush to your gaming chair. Half a second and Jungkook’s eyes flickered back up to your face, pretending he hadn’t been looking.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Are you really just gonna strip in my room and walk out asking Namjoon for a shirt and hope none of the six guys think anything about it?”

His eyes shifted around your room. Bed with black sheets and black velvet duvet. Television with your gaming consoles. Your collection of character figurines from various games. Your black denim jacket hanging on a hook, covered in monotone patches that you had sewn yourself, mostly occult-themed, skeletons, skulls, cats, ghosts, potions, eyeballs, that kind of thing. Back to your desk.

Your legs.

Really staring at your thighs, hips, and crotch.

Up your torso, your hands, your exposed collarbones.

Your face.

Guarding his expression, testing the waters.

“Maybe,” Jungkook said slowly. His eyes darted away and back, teeth catching his lower lip. “I really am hoping you can fix my shirt.”

You watched his face carefully, the flare of darkness in those brown orbs, a hint of naughtiness, dancing with danger. Jungkook had a mischievous streak. You could tell by the way he interacted with his hyungs, listening but talking back, helping them with things but not without a roll of his eyes or a smart remark added, probably because all his friends were older and he was the youngest. He knew he could get away with it.

In short.

Brat.

“What would you like in return, noona?” Jungkook purred, smile dancing on his lips.

Honorifics were supposed to honor you. Show a sign of respect and all that shit.

All I wanted to do was play video games, you grumbled internally. Not suddenly have a thirst fest for one of Namjoon’s best friends. You narrowed your eyes a little, seeing the smirk on that perfectly shaped mouth. He’s not stopping either.

Outside your room, something fell with a loud crash. Probably Namjoon by the depth of that startled yelp. Everyone else started laughing and a very loud, cheerful melody was blasting from the living room television. Nobody was coming to investigate you and Jungkook.

Yet.

“Turn around and ask for a shirt,” you sighed, waving a hand. “Then take off your shirt in the bathroom and then, only then, do you come back and give me your dress shirt.”

You saw Jungkook frown, not expecting that as your answer.

“Oh. Okay.”

He seemed disappointed, lowering his hands.

The silky fabric of the dress shirt slid off his right shoulder, partly revealing his tattoo sleeve and fully revealing his right collarbone and shoulder.

You sucked in a breath, eyes flickering to it. Then his face. Then back to his body. Fuck. Fuckity fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck fuck. Jungkook jumped, startled by the fallen fabric and reached over to grab the fallen collar. Your hand moved faster than you had time to think. You had good reaction time. It was the gaming obsession.

You slapped his hand down.

Jungkook squeaked, head snapping up, purple hair floating around him, gold chain on his neck glittering as he swallowed hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. Strangely, his chain resembled your sterling silver choker that you were wearing right now, except you also wore another necklace with a circular white gold pendant with your zodiac sign.

Not that anyone was ever close enough to inspect it.

“N-Noona?” he breathed, sounding strangely winded.

Shit.

You hadn’t meant to do that. Your body reacted faster than your head.

Shit.

Fuck, he had a nice body. His pecs. Even had a nice dark nipple – well, he probably had two, but you could only see one at the moment – and it all trimmed down to a slim waist and shapely hips. You could tell because of his tailored black slacks. He had been wearing a blazer earlier in the evening too. It was probably on a chair somewhere in the apartment.

Shit.

What did Jungkook need to look so damn good for?

“Where did you guys go to be dressed like that?”

Yes, you were really just going to interrogate him with his shirt dangling off like that.

Jungkook chewed on his lower lip, the tiny mole underneath bouncing up and down as he spoke. “We went to a fancy hotel rooftop bar to celebrate Yoongi-hyung’s award that he won at the music show for producing that song–”

“Ah, right, Namjoon mentioned that earlier today.” Dress code must have been black tie.

Those dark brown eyes found yours, observing you carefully.

“I would have liked to see you there, noona.”

You stopped staring at the tattoos on his bicep and made eye contact. Fuck. Those eyes. Sparkling with deviousness. Trying to see how far he could push your buttons.

“I wonder what kind of dress would you have worn?” he murmured, musing to himself. “I bet you would have looked hotter than any girl there.” Jungkook smiled, playful and boyish. He wasn’t being sleazy about it. Every word was light and honest. “A tight little black dress? Maybe bright red? Short, because you have incredible legs. It would be a crime not to show them off.” He was only complimenting you. His tone wasn’t trying to be suggestive.

Yet.

You didn’t close your legs. You had nothing to be shy about.

Instead, you leaned back in your gaming chair as if it was a throne, resting your left elbow on the armrest and your chin on two fingers, thighs wide open, and your other hand in between them, fingers curled inward to your inner thigh.

Jungkook’s pink lips curved ever higher, ever more roguish.

“Whatever you would have chosen, you would have looked so, so sexy.”

You ticked your head.

“I know.”

Because you did.

Look here, Jeon Jungkook, I’m here minding my own damn business and you’re here inserting yourself into my life, so if you can’t handle me knowing my self-worth, you can fuck right off.

He reached up and tucked a bit of his purple hair behind his right ear, grinning at you.

“You sure you don’t want anything from me?” he asked, a slight flicker of pink tongue between white teeth. “I can give first and then you can decide whether or not you want to help.”

Honestly, those sultry eyes could stop a heart.

You removed your hand from your chin, tapping the air with those two fingers in a dismissive manner.

“Hm.”

Outside, Kim Taehyung and Jung Hoseok were singing a soulful duet and Park Jimin was hooting at inappropriate moments to ruin the atmosphere as much as possible. That raspy, breathless laugh was Min Yoongi, who was probably doubled over on the floor in his expensive suit. Classic genius music producer of the year behavior right there.

Jungkook tucked his hands in his pockets, shirt sleeve falling down, revealing his blacked-out inner elbow. Mountains with a dark sky. It must have hurt, doing something like that. Still, he did it. For aesthetics?

You heard the smirk rather than seeing it, mostly because you were looking at his body.

“I would look so damn good on you, noona.”

Alright.

You closed your eyes slowly and reopened them to look directly into those dangerous, dangerous eyes.

“Lock the door.”

Not really an order. More of a statement. Jungkook could do it or not, you knew. He couldn’t be coerced to do anything. He did things because he wanted to do them. He was nice because he wanted to be nice. He was childish when he wanted to be childish.

And.

Jungkook was obedient when he wanted to be obedient.

He turned around, went to your bedroom door, and locked it.

Well then.

He came back and stood in front of you. A little closer now.

You cocked an eyebrow. “They’re going to come looking for you.”

Jungkook smiled down at you. “I’m sure they will.”

You frowned, lowering your hand to tap the end of the armrest. “They’re going to think I started this.”

“You kind of did.”

Your eyes narrowed sharply. He grinned, taking a step closer.

“Because it’s not my fault you look so good,” Jungkook breathed, voice deepening, leaning down, your expression unchanging, not pulling back but not encouraging anything either. “Not my fault your body is hotter than a summer. Not my fault your confidence is the biggest turn-on I’ve ever had in my life.”

Your thighs were still as open as his shirt.

Jungkook put his knee in between them.

His dress shirt was basically almost completely off his body now, falling off the left shoulder too and dangling off his forearms, exposed collarbones and shoulders, tan skin taut over muscle. A delicious body line, so fucking close to you that you could feel the heat. You still didn’t do anything. You weren’t going to do anything. You didn’t prompt this. You were simply minding your own business commanding a snake lady to victory, not expecting to get seduced by a mischievous bunny-like smile and a tiny black mole under a cute pout.

“I can’t help myself around you.”

You usually didn’t say more to Namjoon’s friends than a mere hello, not wanting to bother them with your presence. They were all men after all. You expected them to want bro time or whatever. Also, you were too busy being obsessed with men that didn’t exist in real life to pursue men that did exist in real life.

At least League of Legends had 3D models so no one could say you lived only the 2D lifestyle.

That didn’t mean that you didn’t partake when the dinner laid themselves out to be eaten. They often had to, because you wouldn’t pay attention otherwise.

Purple hair drifted into your vision, surrounding you in a curtain of violet and dark brown eyes, warm exhale and trembling pink lips, trapping you in Jungkook’s gaze, but you refused to relent, keeping your gaze even. Steady breaths to disguise your racing heart.

You kept your hands closed to prevent him from seeing your shaking fingers.

“Every time I see you, I want you to touch me,” he whispered, trying to hide the edge of nervousness by lowering his voice, enticing you to lean in to hear him better because someone was wiping a damn window in the living room outside your door or was that Kim Seokjin laughing?

There was no difference.

Jungkook’s forehead touched yours and you stopped thinking about Seokjin.

“I just want you to feel me up, rip my clothes off, and fuck me until I can’t think straight. Use me, abuse me, wreck me, ruin me,” he shuddered, definitely thinking about it, and one blink and you spied the obvious tent in his pants.

“Maybe I’m a lazy girl,” you finally said, touching your nose to his, inhaling his breath, a little bit of alcohol, a little bit of fruitiness, and that hint of cologne, fresh, clean, and intense. Something else too. Musk, maybe his pheromones or something like that. Whatever it was smelled fucking delicious, just like you. What did your perfume smell like? Spiced fire blended with addictive sweetness.

You shrugged casually.

“Maybe I’m a pillow princess.”

Jungkook chuckled.

“I can tell you’re not.”

You had to smirk.

Of course, you weren’t.

You closed your thighs around his knee and squeezed, raising to your tiptoes. He gasped softly, shivering at the simple touch of your soft thighs pressing around his muscular leg. It was disturbingly noisy out there, but here it was silent, pared down to your breathing and Jungkook’s breathing, mixing together, blazingly hot, closer, closer, doing the careful dance, daring each other to make the move that was so obviously going to happen.

“What are you gonna say when they ask you where you’ve been all this time?” you whispered, avoiding letting your lips brush against his.

“The truth.”

His tongue flickered out and barely touched your lips.

You didn’t make a sound.

Jungkook moaned, the sound drifting into your throat, and you could taste his desire.

“I tripped and fell into your lap.”

Your lips curved into a smirk.

He kissed you.

His hands on the armrests of your rolling chair, pushing it back into your desk, pressing his lips to yours, inhaling deeply, wanting to breathe you, wanting to taste you, wanting you, shivering as you finally touched him with your hands, but this was you, and your first touch wasn’t going to be wasted on a conventional innocent touch.

Your fingers closed in on his rock-hard erection and stroked him through his pants.

Jungkook moaned your name right in your mouth, eyes half-lidded, his violet hair encircling your face as he rolled his hips into your palm, whining deep in his chest.

“Fuck, yes, noona, play with me…”

You flitted your tongue between his lips and he chased it, begging you for more, and yet you continued to tease, light flicks between those soft pillows, nipping at them, even pushing up his lower lip so the tip of your tongue could draw a small heart around that mole, kissing it, so gentle, so delicate. His entire body shook, your hand palming his hardness through his pants, nails scraping against his balls, caressing all of it, acting like you owned it. Jungkook was certainly humping your hand like you did.

“You only want me because I didn’t want you,” you taunted, not bothering to hide your smirk and your slight disapproval.

“That’s not true,” he panted, attempting to get you to touch his chest, pushing you back into your chair, and yet you kept the fingers of your free hand on the cusp of what he wanted, heat close but no contact, causing him to whimper every time your fingernails barely nicked his skin. “I want you because you’re pretty, gorgeous, and hot as hell.”

Hm, that sounded familiar.

“I want you because I love watching you play your favorite games,” he chuckled, kissing the side of your lips, nose to nose. “I want you because I love that little smirk you make when you do something good. I want you because I love that aggressiveness that comes out and how you seem to lose your filter. Shit, it’s so fucking hot when you’re focused. Makes me wanna see your face when you’re pinning me down and having your way with me. Makes me want to obey you and disobey you at the same time, because I want you to reward me and punish me, I just can’t decide, fuck, you make life so hard for me.”

He punctuated hard by violently humping your hand, rattling your desk with his force.

Outside you heard Namjoon yelling “CANNONBALL” and throwing himself onto that giant gray furry beanbag you paid far too much for about six months ago. It was now a household party favorite, due to its massive size and fluffiness. At the moment, it sounded like a pile of six guys in semi-formal clothing was beginning and, instead of watching this heap of hot dudes being constructed, you were making out with the seventh guy’s face and grabbing his dick.

You’ll take this trade.

You felt Jungkook’s hands groping around, undoing his pants and the zipper, trying to get you to touch more, more, desperate for you to be all over him.

“P-Please… please, I don’t know when they’re going to notice…” he pleaded. “You’re so close, so close, ah, I can’t think, please…”

“Shh…” you soothed. “The door is locked.”

Your fingertips finally touched his chest, not disappointed in the slightest when you touched those delicious-looking pecs. They felt just as nice under your palm, his pounding heart and wanton moan vibrating up your arm.

“Aren’t you a needy little brat trying to distract me from my games, hm?”

Your fingertips hooked over the waistband of his boxer briefs.

“You’re going to have to face the consequences, Jungkook.”

You said his name like a delicious sweet about to be eaten, growl in your throat as you yanked down his underwear, capturing his lips, robbing him of his cries as you clawed down his chest, grasping his cock and pumping him, long, complete strokes from base to tip, curling your fingers around his balls, juggling them with your fingers teasingly as he squirmed and groaned. Your free arm shot around his back, digging your nails into his spine, not letting him get away. His black dress shirt was falling, falling to your floor, his bluish-purple hair in your face and his strong hands on your shoulders, sliding down, kneading your breasts through your clothes, whining that you were still wearing a bra – of course, you were, six dudes were coming over and they didn’t need to see your magnificent nipples on display, although clearly one of them wanted to see – and he was trying to get to the hem of your shirt, but you smacked his hands away, building the pressure and speed, pre-cum leaking between your fingers and adding slickness to lessen the dry friction.

Fuck, you could smell him and he smelled so fucking good.

“Noona, please…” Jungkook gasped, hands on the armrests of your chair, tipping his head back at the pleasure, pants at his fucking knees, chest, crotch, thighs on display. “This is… embarrassing…”

He meant him being mostly naked and you being dressed.

You shrugged, acting indifferent. “Not for me.”

He whimpered at your words, so noticeably dominant despite not using an aggressive or commanding tone. Either that or he was very invested in you jacking him off. You suspected it was a combination of the two, considering how eagerly his cock twitched when you answered.

“What should I do, Jungkook? Should I let you cum? Or should I play with you and stop, make you put your clothes back on and walk out there, desperate to be finished off?” you mused aloud, running your nails up his back, not that hard, but he leaned back into it so they sank into him, wordlessly begging you to do it harder, so you did, setting your jaw and scratching at his back, forcing him back into position. His cock throbbed in your hand, pulsating wildly.

Hm, he really loved it, huh.

“P-Please… wanna cum, please don’t be mean…” he gasped, thrusting his hips into your punishingly tight grip.

“Hm, why does it matter? You’ll just run to the bathroom and finish yourself off anyway, right?”

“Want you to do it, please,” he begged, his long hair curling around his jaw, dark purple locks framing the sharpness, lashes fluttering as you rubbed your thumb against the underside of the head, smearing pre-cum over the slit. “Your hand feels so good, so fucking good, better than I thought, please, I need you to touch me or I can’t get off, please…”

You removed your hand.

Jungkook cried out in denied despair, pitch hiking, the sinful sound clearly audible despite the debaucherously loud ruckus outside your bedroom door that included not one, but two people howling like werewolves for some unknown reason. At this point, you were mildly curious.

But you had a job to do.

He grabbed the front of your shirt, almost sobbing with need. Somehow his violet hair was a mess and you hadn’t even touched it. It cascaded over one of his eyes, an indigo curtain, the other chocolate orb shaking and pupil dilated, black prominent in the dark brown.

“Please don’t–”

You shoved two fingers from your right hand into that pleading mouth and raised your left.

He choked, gagging a little on your fingers.

You stuck your tongue out and licked your palm, slathering it with a thick layer of slick saliva.

Jungkook’s eyes widened at the dirty action and then rolled back into his head as you wrapped your hand around his aching cock once more, now covered in saliva, swiftly and fervently jacking him off, hard, fast, tight, nearly choking his cock, pushing his chin up and his chest to your hungry mouth, tongue and teeth and lips, all over those dark nipples hardening under your persistent touch, heedless to his rising moans, so very obvious now what was happening in your bedroom.

It didn’t bother you at all. Jungkook walked in here and asked you to wreck and ruin him, so you did exactly what he asked you to do, leaving harsh bite marks and slippery saliva all over his soft skin, your perfume rubbing off onto his body, coating his chest in your scent and his pulsating thick length with your spit, and he was so fucking hard that you were impressed, feeling his mouth suck on your fingers desperately and wetly, your name a messy garble above your head.

“Fuck, yes, umpf, oh fuck, I’m so close, so close, gonna cum, goona cum for you…!”

“Jungkook?”

You had no idea who called his name through your door, because the next second Jungkook was pitching forward and shooting his cum up your thigh and chest, thick white strings painting your leggings and band t-shirt, soaking into the fabric and creating a sticky mess on your skin, your head lifting in response to his movement to avoid knocking into him, your fingers sliding out of his lips, strings of saliva snapping as they left, and suddenly Jungkook’s face was in your face, his lips on yours in a passionate kiss, rutting into your hand to increase the sensitivity, shoulders and hips flinching, whimpering gratitude and ecstasy into your mouth, his hands in your hair, kissing you deeper, more ravenously, ignoring the questioning voices, lost in the pleasure of his orgasm.

You heard Namjoon say outside your door, “I think he made his move.”

You asshole, at least warn me, you thought irritably.

“You’re so good… so good, exactly what I need… I knew you would be… fuck…”

You thrust your tongue into his lips once and backed off, chuckling as he whined for more.

“Go ask for a shirt.”

Jungkook shook his head rapidly, violet hair flying everywhere. Your hand was still wrapped around his semi-hard cock, his cum dripping onto your wrist. His ears were turning red.

“I can’t… They know something is going on…” he mumbled, scooting closer to you, as if your body heat could somehow mask the fact that you just jacked him off with six of his friends standing outside your bedroom door whispering.

“Maybe you wanted them to know.”

You squeezed his ass and he trembled, clutching your shoulders.

“Easy way to tell them that you want to be owned by me, right?”

You could tell by the way his eyes were darting around rapidly that the thought crossed his mind more than once.

“Jungkook.”

You said it loud enough for a keen ear to hear it if they were really eavesdropping. You looked up at Jungkook, his eyes immediately fixating on yours because of your tone.

In control, not to be questioned.

“Get on your knees.”

Dead silence outside your bedroom.

“B… but…”

His cheeks flushed pink.

You took his chin and pulled him down to your face, murmuring to that mole under his lips, pecking it daintily, almost innocently, his wispy moan drifting over your nose. Your words were barely above a whisper, only for him.

“You made a mess. Clean it up.”

You stroked Jungkook’s chin with your thumb, your other hand tucking his long hair behind his ear.

“I’ll let you sleep in my bed tonight, so be a good boy for me right now and I’ll let you be a bad boy in bed.”

His head tilted and Jungkook whispered your name into your mouth, drenched with desire.

You smirked, stroking his jaw fondly.

He got to his knees, in between your open thighs, leaning forward, subservient eyes on your face as his pink tongue extended, licking at his own cum staining your clothes, eyes closing at your hand on the top of his head, not directing the movement, but reminding him who was in charge here, reminding him with nails in his scalp that he was going to be fucked until he couldn’t think straight.

Used, abused, wrecked, ruined.

-

“I don’t wanna.”

“We both know you do.”

“But I want to fuck you,” Jungkook protested, speaking softly because everyone was sleeping, or at least it seemed that way, not that either you or Jungkook cared, because you were forcing him to his knees on your bed, pushing his torso back, nails digging into his chest, towering over him, his naked body already covered in your bites and scratches, focused on his inner thighs and chest, none on his neck because that’s where he wanted it the most.

And you knew it.

“Noona, please…”

He said please a lot for someone who did not, in fact, want to be pleased, but tortured.

You grabbed him by the chin, cocking an eyebrow.

His hands were behind him, arms shaking as they held him up, shivering delightfully under your petrifying gaze.

“Please what? Hm? Saying please when you come crawling into my room, begging for dirty things with your friends right outside, saying please when you interrupt me and distract me, jeopardizing my chances to win my game?”

You leaned in close, you knowing you were only crafting a scene, him knowing that you didn’t actually care, but Jungkook wanted to hear the words, wanted you to put that malice in your tone to caress his ears, wanted you to cannibalize his sanity and put him in a different headspace, his cock already responding to it, bobbing in the air, purple-red and achingly hard from multiple orgasms, and he still wanted more.

“Saying please so you can say please when you’re under me, helplessly begging me to let you cum?”

You could hear his whines vibrating under your fingertips, pupils blown wide, lower lip trembling, begging you already, such a needy little thing, those lovely brown eyes full of submission, muscles tense with anticipation, every passing second spiraling him into increased frustration, because instead of doing anything, you were only smirking wider and wider, pushing his head back.

“Well? Tell me if you’re a dirty boy or not. Maybe I’ll do what you want.”

His violet hair cascaded to his shoulder blades, his low moan coursing through your fingertips and the heated air of your bedroom.

“Y… Yes, I’m a d-dirty boy…”

“Noona,” you prompted.

Just because you could.

His lips curved into an open smile, two of your fingers hooked over his lower lip, fingertips rubbing his tongue. Your thumb nail pressed into his mole.

“Noona.”

You ripped the condom open with your teeth, which was not advisable unless you were the kind of person that practiced that for hours on end, spending an obscene amount of money on unused condoms to perfect your technique, because nobody wants a broken condom or lube in their teeth. Why would you want to learn such a thing? You were a stickler for details. A perfectionist in perfecting a perfect display of raw dominance.

You spat out the torn corner onto Jungkook’s chest and he whimpered, unashamedly amazed.

Your left hand removed the condom from the package and your right slid out of his mouth and encircled his neck.

You inspected the condom, lazily turning it to the correct position, fingers pressed to the sides of his neck, leaving plenty of space for his trachea between your thumb and forefinger. You didn’t bother looking at his face. Instead, you spread your legs, poised and naked over him and his throbbing cock.

Your right hand started choking him.

Your left hand started rolling the condom down his thick, hard length.

Your name leaked out of his lips in a thin gurgle, his eyes rolling back into his head.

“Say please, Jungkook.”

A sharp, distinct order.

“P… Please…” he gasped out, chest shuddering.

Your hand tightened around his throat and your pussy clenched around his cock as you forced yourself down on him.

“Oh, fuuuuuuuck…”

You didn’t bother asking if he liked it. His vicious fisting of your sheets and trembling body, cries and cock included, told you everything you needed to know. You only watched the color of his cheeks, knowing there were limits to how long you could choke him. Therefore there was no time to be wasted, already starting your favorite pace, rough and hard, filling yourself with that delicious cock built to take your abuse, jaw set, gripping his throat, blood pounding under your fingertips, slapping hips to crotch, heat sparking though your veins, hotter, hotter, your smirk growing more and more smug, tongue tracing your lips as you witnessed Jungkook’s descent into sin, raising his head so he could watch you bounce on his cock with hazed brown orbs, mouth open, tongue lolling out, circulation thinning, purple hair wild around that cute, distressed face.

You let up the pressure on his neck, dark snicker rumbling in your chest.

“This pussy worth it, brat?”

The rush of missing blood into his brain, the suffocating pleasure of your pulsating walls wrapped around his twitching cock, your authoritative growl and merciless words tearing through him – you saw it all taking over Jungkook, forced to respond honestly from pure instinct because there was no time to compile pretty words or a smart comeback.

“Yes, noona, yes, I love it, I love it, this brat fucking loves what you do to him…”

You immediately choked him again and slapped your pussy onto his cock like you were whipping him.

His eyes rolled back and a wild moan tore out of his chest, cut off by your hand.

The bed creaked under you, bearing the weight of your roughness.

“I know you love it,” you snarled, leaning in, fucking him into your bed with vigor, straining his knees, so uncomfortable and so comfortable for him at the same time, pain and pleasure, clearly something he craved and loved from how hard he was. “You said you need me to touch you or you can’t get off.”

You knew that couldn’t be true.

Jungkook probably got off hundreds of times thinking about you, otherwise he wouldn’t be so ecstatic about you violently riding his dick right now.

His teeth sank into his swollen lower lip, staring at you through his lashes, his voice a thin whisper laced with insatiable need.

“I can’t cum without you anymore.”

You removed your hand.

Your hips stopped abruptly, fulling sheathing his cock inside you.

“No!”

His shout was so loud and desperate that you had to conceal your surprise, not expecting the frantic ferocity of his tone, nearly an agonized sob as he grabbed your upper arms in a crushing grip, his indigo locks crashing into his high cheekbones, sticking to his sweaty face and sharp jaw. It took everything in you to stay calm, everything to not give in and let him have what he wanted. Maybe it was stubbornness, maybe it was knowing the role you were playing, maybe it was the sadistic side of you, who the fuck knew, but there was only a beat of hesitation, a second of you staring into those beautiful dark brown eyes, so perfect.

Just perfect.

Perfectly wrecked, willing to do anything in this moment for you to continue.

Before he could utter a peep of a plea, you shook out of his grip and seized his head, crashing his lips onto your neck.

Jungkook bit you.

Instant, searing pain, taking out all his sexual frustration on your neck, sucking at the skin, hot tongue lapping, groaning, moaning, half-crying because you didn’t move. You just sat on his dick and forced his mouth onto your neck, gleefully savoring his despair, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to feel the pleasure, his hands and nails digging into your waist, his teeth latched to the side of your throat, his stiff cock shuddering inside you, your tight heat keeping him hard but not letting him cum, repeatedly squeezing the engorged head brutally, driving him insane.

Insane.

You could feel his lips move, but you muffled his words, pushing his head into your neck.

Please.

Deep inhale, his wonderful scent filling your nose.

Please.

Riding the high that was Jungkook’s desire for you, fingers tangled into violet strands.

Please.

He felt so, so good, spoon-feeding the dom in you with his tiny whimpers and distraught sniffles.

“P… Please…”

You pressed your lips to his hair, murmuring his name sweetly.

“Jungkook.”

No quiver to your tone, only serene calm.

“Noona…”

His hands slid up your back as your hips began to rock, slow, so painfully slow, building the frenzy layer by layer, his hardness swelling inside you, his soft lips pressed to his hickey onto your neck, even more turned on because he knew you let him mark you, he knew in this moment you were his and only his, everything he wanted and more, his hips rising to meet yours, deepening your thrusts, matching your force, burying his face into your skin and your scent, wanting nothing more than your command over his body.

You turned his head, tucking his hair behind one ear, speaking dark whispers into that curve.

“You look the best when on your knees for me, Jungkook.”

He shivered, your name falling sloppily from his lips, drunk from your power and lost in his service.

You let go of his head and grabbed his shoulders instead, putting all of your weight onto him, now letting yourself chase it, chase the orgasm that you had been building for yourself all this time, letting yourself feel Jungkook and feel the full force of the pleasure he gave you, because, yes, of course, you served him first before you, even if it didn’t seem like it.

Because when it came down to it, Jungkook came to you, opening himself petal by petal to show you his vulnerable side, testing the waters, hoping, wishing, praying that maybe, just maybe, you were the kind of person that he was expecting, wanting, needing, and you, knowing how difficult that was because, well, you had made it difficult, only focusing on games and not on those longing eyes that watched you whenever you came into his view.

Eyes that you looked into now.

Half-lidded, glazed over, fucked-out, still honest.

His large hands were still on your waist, holding you to him as you rode him with furious slaps, muscles flexed in his chest and arms, tattoos on his right arm tense and taut from holding this position for so long. He looked so good. Felt so good. Had an amazing cock.

And fuck.

Jungkook had a cute face.

You genuinely smiled.

“I’ll take care of everything,” you drawled, injecting your words with conviction and adoration.

That did it.

His lips parted, low groan emitting from his throat as his head tipped back, purple waterfalling onto his back, thrusting up into you and shooting into the condom with fierce jolts, unable to hold back any longer, his entire length flinching uncontrollably, sweet whimpers at his release, feeling sorry that he didn’t let you cum first, but that didn’t matter, because you rode through it, already there, falling, falling, your sigh like laden smoke as your orgasm slammed into you, welcoming the bolts of cruel pulses flying through you, concentrated onto your core, Jungkook’s moans hiking into pitched ecstasy at the convulsing clenches of his oversensitive, overused cock, arms embracing you tightly, hugging you for dear life, chest to chest, pounding heart against yours.

Your fingers tangled into his hair.

His hand fitted around your head.

Lips to lips and you took care of everything, claiming that mouth as yours, holding him up even though you were the one in his lap, your kiss onto that perfect mole under that pretty pout, cherishing every mumble of your name, lowering him onto your pillows, soft kisses in between. You took care of everything, lifting yourself off him, chuckling as he whined, pawing for you to come back, but you rapped his knuckles and calmed him, removing the condom and cleaning him off gently with a towel, soft kisses in between because he wanted the attention, deliberately not closing his eyes until you crawled back into the bed, tucking the covers around you and him, Jungkook immediately turning and yanking you into his chest, nose against your skin.

“Who’s the pillow princess?” you teased, ruffling his long violet locks.

His lips pressed onto your hickey, his mark on you, and he sighed in content, drifting into sleep.

-

In the morning, you found a pile of five guys in the living room sleeping in various positions on the giant gray furry beanbag and the sofa. Jungkook was in your bed, passed out. The last guy, Min Yoongi, was in Kim Namjoon’s room, sleeping on his bed, because he was a smart man and took advantage of a perfectly good bed that five drunk hooligans undoubtedly forgot about.

You chuckled and rubbed your neck as you brushed your teeth, seeing yourself and the large purple hickey Jungkook had made last night in the bathroom mirror.

You went back to your room after retrieving the sewing basket from the living room, spending the morning calmly stitching the small buttons back onto his black dress shirt as the seven guys in your apartment continued to snore away.

Then you went back to playing League of Legends.

Ah, Cassiopeia, I had an eventful evening, but I have returned to you.

-

drabble morning-after hungover breakfast

--

masterpost

[darthkruge]

hello lovely!! i’ve been getting back into star wars lately and i’ve been loving your fics!! and i was wondering if i could make a request?? sort of like,, anakin but he doesn’t turn to the dark side type thing?? like he maybe confesses he’s scared to lose you and you help him through it?? maybe obi wan helps out?? honestly you can take it however you want :)) ty ty

anakin skywalker x reader || rewritten

summary || a rots fix it fic where i take many liberties and give anakin a support system + everyone gets better communication and we think about how it would perhaps end differently

warnings || hella canon divergence, angst w/ a happy ending, some violence (non graphic and not super described)

words || 5.1k (i am legit shocked)

a/n || hello and thank you!! i’m so glad you’ve been loving my fics! this fic was honestly super challenging for me and it ended up being the longest thing i’ve ever written. i made some big changes and lots of smaller ones, but each one was fully intentional. i really, really hope y’all like it <3

main masterlist || anakin masterlist 

gif credit

-----

Anakin awoke with a start, chest heaving and covered in sweat. He was gripping the blankets as he tried to ground himself, frantically looking around as if to discern between reality and the horrid dreamscape his mind created. He whipped his head to the side, visibly relaxing as he saw you staring up at him, a confused look on your face. 

You were no stranger to Anakin’s nightmares but this one seemed unlike any he’d ever had. You slept curled into him and, thus, his jolt caused one of your own. Unsure if he wanted your touch just yet, you reached out to him with the Force. Panic, loss, grief, fear, terror, insecurity. You looked into his eyes, watching as they slowly cleared and he registered your presence. He blinked quickly, trying to clear the tears from his vision and gave you a slight nod. 

Reaching a tentative hand to his shoulder, you suppressed a gasp as you felt him shudder beneath you. You quietly whispered his name and placed a finger under his jaw, guiding his face to yours. You nodded back at him and opened your arms in silent invitation. He crawled into your embrace as you pulled him impossibly close to you, situating yourself against the headboard so you could better wrap yourself around his shaking body. Choked sobs erupted from his lips, each one tearing a hole in your heart. As he finally let himself cry with his face buried into your neck, you held him. By the Maker, you held him. 

He didn’t want to speak just yet and you understood. You’ve always extended the same respect back to him as he gives to you. Tucked into you, Anakin’s fingers squeezed into your flesh, as if trying to remind himself you were solid. You placed a few kisses into his soft hair and onto his forehead, hands running up and down his arms and back. You physically pressed reminders of your love into his skin for hours and, somewhere in the midst of your embrace, he let himself fall into a state of limbo. Unawake, unasleep, umoving, yet feeling everything you had to offer. 

----

When morning came, you reached out once again. The emotions from last night were still evident, just not as strong. Simultaneously, you allowed a small smile to come to you as you felt something new. Warmth, comfort, love. You ran your fingers through Anakin’s hair to pull him to consciousness, needing to see his eyes. Stars, his eyes. While they were absolutely gorgeous, they also always gave him away. You once told him that. “Only for you, my love.” He’d replied. 

“Hi.” He croaked out, meeting your gaze. Your eyes fluttered closed for a second as you took a deep breath in relief. His eyes were clear. You didn’t know how long the shadows would be banished for, but as long as they weren’t constant, you had hope. 

“Hi, baby.” You whispered, allowing yourself to give him another forehead kiss, made easy by your position that you’d somehow remained in throughout the night. You looked at him expectantly and knew he knew what you were asking.

“You… you died,” Anakin started. His eyes were already filling with tears. “It wasn’t clear. There was so much blood. And you kept begging me to help you. You screamed and screamed and screamed and you were in agony and…” 

You took his hand in yours, squeezing his fingers in encouragement to go on.

“I never- I never came for you.” He spit the words out as if they were venomous and shook his head. You could hear the self-hatred in his words, the way he couldn’t grasp the concept of hurting you, ever, and yet how seriously he took this. 

“Hey, hey. Stop, my love.” You said, hoping to pull him out of his spiral. “You would never harm me, Anakin. You would come for me, you always have. That was a horrible dream and I’m so sorry you had to experience it. But it was just a dream, Anakin. It’s not real.” 

He pulled away from you as if he couldn’t stand to feel your gentle touch. “No, no, no! It-” His words were cut off by his uneven breathing, his pulse racing as he relived the nightmare. “It felt like the ones I had about my mother. It felt… prophetic. I’m scared, Y/N, I can’t lose you.” 

You walked over to him, placing your hands on his cheeks and rubbing your thumbs over his cheekbones, hoping to calm him. “You won’t. It takes a lot to kill me, you know? Especially when I have you by my side.” 

Anakin nodded but you could tell he was unconvinced. 

“How about you talk to Obi-Wan about the dreams? He’s always helped you before.” You suggested. 

While normally this would be unthinkable, as it would expose your relationship, Anakin felt himself pulled toward the choice. Inwardly, he admitted that he could definitely use a friend right now. And Obi-Wan had always stood by him. Somehow, he just knew that now would be no different.  

------

Obi-Wan easily swung the door open with the Force before Anakin even had a chance to knock. He knew his former Padawan’s force signature like the back of his hand and had sensed his distress for days. Unbeknownst to Anakin, Obi-Wan had canceled his missions due to this, wanting to stay close for when Anakin eventually came to him for guidance. 

Obi-Wan looked up from his paperwork as he realized Anakin refused to come closer. Huddled behind the door frame, a conflicted and fearful look on his face, Obi-Wan was struck by how similar Anakin looked to the little boy he’d found on Tatooine all those years ago. Many nights, young Anakin would come into Obi-Wan’s room, plagued with nightmares. Just as before, Obi-Wan never turned him away. 

“Something’s troubling you.” 

Anakin sighed, taking a tentative step forward. “You know Master L/N?”

Obi-Wan smiled knowingly, having a sense of where this is going. “Yes, of course. A brilliant strategist, much like yourself.” 

“I…. I’m involved with them, Master.” 

“Involved?” Obi-Wan replied, with a quirked eyebrow.

“Please don’t punish Y/N for this, I know the Council frowns upon relationships. If you need to report it, I understand. But just report me, say they had nothing to do with it. But before you do anything please, Master, listen to what I must tell you. I wouldn’t unless it was absolutely necessary.” Anakin pleaded. 

“Anakin, I know.” 

“Yeah, I mean it truly is necessary-” 

Obi-Wan placed a comforting hand on the younger Jedi’s shoulder. “You misunderstand. I mean, I know.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened with realization before confusion filtered into his gaze. “But we were so careful!” 

“Not as much as you would think,” Obi-Wan said with a slight laugh.

“And you’re not upset?”

He sighed. “Being honest, I was a bit at first. Anakin, you know the rules and you can be so reckless at times! But how could I fault you for your own humanity? And I knew who you were when I met you. I was always aware of your compassion, your capacity for emotions.” Anakin nodded and smiled, but the faraway look in his eye never wavered. 

Clearing his voice, Obi-Wan continued. “Are you alright, Anakin?” 

“No.” The strength of the word shocked them both and caused Anakin to take a moment to compose himself. “They’re dying.”

Panic flashed through Obi-Wan’s expression. “They’re what? What happened? Was it a mission? Do the medics know? Is-” 

“- No, nothing… nothing yet. But it will.” While Obi-Wan didn’t exactly understand, he could tell through Anakin’s tone that his former Padawan believed this with his entire soul. 

“I’ve been having more nightmares.” Anakin said. 

“Like the ones with your mother?” 

Anakin nodded, his gaze muddled as his mind wove through every possibility on how to save you. Coming up with none, he looked up quickly, the lost confusion clear. 

“It’s going to be alright, Anakin. We’re going to do this together.” Obi-Wan offered, trying to comfort his friend. When Anakin nodded this time, his expression had more hope in it. Obi-Wan returned the gesture, tipping his head as Anakin walked out. Before Anakin reached the door, Obi-Wan called his name. 

“Talk to me if you feel troubled. About anything, my friend. And just know… it’s okay to feel afraid. And you’re no less a Jedi because you love them. At least, not in my eyes.” For the first time since he’d walked in the room, Anakin gave a true smile. His former Master inhaled deeply, realizing after hearing those words, Anakin looked more like himself than he had in a long while. 

----- 

A few hours and a Council meeting later, Anakin walked back into your chambers, closing the door with a huff. He wasn’t enraged, per se, but definitely conflicted. You approached him cautiously, heart falling when you saw those familiar clouds back in his eyes. 

“Did Obi-Wan not take it well?”

Anakin shook his head. “It’s not… he was supportive. But the Council has assigned something to me and…” He trailed off and looked at you. Only then did you see his bloodshot, puffy eyes. 

“What did they ask of you, Anakin?” You questioned, coming behind him to gently massage his tense shoulders. 

“I’m needed to spy on the Chancellor. Apparently there’s a Sith Lord somewhere in the Order. They suspect him.” He tried to keep his voice strong, but you could see how torn apart he was by the inflection in his tone. 

You took a breath and tried to process the information. “Will you do it?”

“I don’t know… if the Council tells me I must, then I must. But the Chancellor has only been good to me. I worry about betraying him but I don’t want to let down the Order. I’m not sure how to do this without causing someone harm.” He confessed. 

“They shouldn’t have put you in this position, it’s unfair. And you don’t have to, Ani. I know it feels like you do but you don’t need to bend to each of the Council’s requests. Whatever the fallout, whatever you choose, please know that I’m with you. And so is Obi-Wan. Not that it fixes anything, but at the very least, you’ll always have us.” 

Anakin turned around so he was facing you. “I don’t know what to do.” He whispered, voice laced with hopelessness. 

“Trust yourself. You have a good heart, intelligence, and strong morals. They’ve never failed you before.”

He nodded before leaning into you and your arms instinctively wrapped around him. Your fingertips found their way to his hair, gently weaving through the golden strands. 

“We’ll get through this, yeah?” While it was a question, you both knew you meant it as a statement.

“We’ll get through this.” Anakin echoed. He mumbled the words into your neck where he had buried his face. As if the words could seep into your skin. As if the hope could find its way to your heart and stay there, ever protected, ever true. 

-----

The next day, Anakin found himself in Palpatine’s office. He was wary, guarded. It was evident by the look on his eyes, the way he took a moment before taking another step. It was his training as both a Jedi and a General that allowed him to do this. The careful complexity of planning every move. 

“I heard the Council debating whether or not they should have made you a Master. It seems they do not trust you or value your talent as they should.” Palpatine’s words made Anakin freeze. Rationally, he knew this was wrong. At the very least, Obi-Wan trusts him and so do you. But there was a part of him that felt so validated by the Chancellor’s words that he wanted to hear more. To bask in them, in feeling wanted and appreciated. He hated himself for it. 

“I… I’m not sure what you mean by this.” Anakin attempted not to give himself away any more than he already has. 

“Well, they care about your potential. But they hold you back. They’ll never show you your true power, for they don’t want you to understand. They just wish to use it, no matter your own fate.” 

“I feel cast aside. Like I don’t matter.” Anakin wasn’t even sure why he shared these words. Somehow, in feeling so praised, the doubts just bubbled their way to the surface. He felt like a child in these moments, so painfully fragile. 

“You don’t. Not to them, Anakin. But with me I can teach you your power. I can teach you the ways of the Dark Side. I know of your fears, of those nightmares that plague you. I know about your secret marriage and how close you are to losing it all.” 

Anakin froze, his heart hammering in his chest. His thoughts raced as he tried to piece together the truth from all the lies. The mentions of Darth Plagueis. The Dark Side of the Force. 

“You’re the Sith Lord!” Anakin said, igniting his lightsaber and pointing it at the older man’s chest. 

Palpatine bowed his head slightly, a small smile gracing his lips. “Well done, my boy.” Anakin felt sick as he noted the pride in his tone. And yet that aching part inside him still swelled, ever so slightly.

“Now, don’t do anything rash.” The Chancellor reasoned. “Only the Dark Side can save the one you love.” 

Anakin wanted to do the right thing. He wished to be the one who could stand up and arrest Palpatine without a single ounce of guilt or regret. But as soon as Palpatine mentioned you, it’s like all his logic disappeared. He just wanted to save you, to not fail you as he’d failed his mother. But then he thought back to your words. “Strong morals.” And to his Master’s. “We’ll do this together.”

“I’m turning you into the Council.” 

“Wouldn’t you prefer to kill me?”

“Yes.” Anakin’s remark was forceful and clipped with anger.

“Then do it. Give yourself over to your wrath.”

He felt himself burning with betrayal, with resentment toward both sides. Even so, he could still tell right from wrong, selfless from selfish. And whatever Palpatine was doing… it certainly did not have the will of the people in mind. Without so much as deigning him with another response, Anakin turned and walked out of the room.

“If you turn me in, you’ll never save them!” Anakin tried to will Palpatine’s voice out of his head as he ventured back to the Council chambers. When he arrived back, he decided to slightly alter his plans. While he knew he must face all of them eventually, he wanted to talk to Obi-Wan first. Perhaps his Master could give him guidance, like he did about your nightmares. 

“General Skywalker… are you alright?” Anakin stumbled as he walked right into another figure, too caught up in his own head.

“I’m fine, Master Windu. Thank you- I’m sorry.” Mace looked at the younger Jedi with an unreadable expression. While there was much in his eyes, concern was definitely a part of it. 

“Have you seen Master Kenobi?” Anakin said after a brief pause for composure. 

“He’s supposed to leave for his next mission any moment now. If you hurry, you can probably still catch him.” 

Anakin thanked Master Windu before taking off in a run. No matter how fast his legs carried him, he felt his mind was working even faster, the internal conflict brewing more intently by the second. 

-----

Obi-Wan opened the door as soon as before Anakin could even knock. He looked at Anakin and gestured at a vacant chair, a silent invitation to sit. Anakin shook his head quickly. The younger Jedi’s eyes were scattered and conflicted, as if he’d been shaken to his very core. 

“Palpatine is the Sith Lord.” The words came out rushed, yet clear. As if Anakin needed to get them out as quickly as he could but replayed them in his head until they were all he knew. The intensity showed Obi-Wan that there was no doubt in his friend’s mind. 

Obi-Wan blinked. “Okay.” He stroked his beard, trying to find the words to say. “Are you alright?”

Anakin looked at Obi-Wan in confusion. Certainly there were more important questions his former Master would want to ask than that. 

“I know you and the Chancellor were close. This can’t be easy for you. I just wanted to ask if you were alright.” 

“I’m not sure.” Anakin said after some hesitation. “I don’t really know what to think… Palpatine is evil, right? But he believed in me when no one else did. He saw my potential, allowed me to confide in him. He told me he could show me how to save Y/N. Would someone evil do that?” 

Obi-Wan’s eyes softened as he looked at the painfully conflicted young man in front of him. “Anakin… he was manipulating you. He was isolating you so you had no one to turn to but him. It was a tactic, a ploy. He doesn’t care for you.” Anakin looked so heartbroken that Obi-Wan knew Anakin believed him. “I’m so sorry.” 

“But what about Y/N?” Anakin asked desperately.

Obi-Wan sighed. “Loving someone in the Order isn’t easy. Especially after everything you’ve gone through. And losing someone… it changes the way you love. You fear constantly, wondering when your love will evade you. When it will fall apart, like all the rest. But living like that, loving like that… it leaves no room for growth or peace. And that’s what relationships are for, aren’t they?” His voice was filled with compassion and wisdom. From experience, perhaps? Regardless of the reason, Anakin was reminded that someone did understand him. Despite the circumstances, he felt content. At least a bit. 

“Is there any way to save them?”

“I’m not sure. Let’s focus on Palpatine for now, alright? And we’ll bring Master L/N with us so you know they’re safe.” Obi-Wan wished nothing more than having a set solution to save Y/N. But some things were even out of his grasp. “I know this must be impossible for you, Anakin. I truly am sorry.” 

Anakin nodded. After all, it was true. If there was anything to describe the impending threat of losing another person he loved, impossible summed up the process. “I know. You’re doing all you can. Thank you, Master. And yes, I would like to bring them with us.” 

Obi-Wan clasped a hand to Anakin’s shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze as they met each other with a smile. “I’ll send them a message right now.”

----

You gasped when you received Obi-Wan’s message with the details of the Supreme Chancellor’s truth. Your heart cried for Anakin, knowing the betrayal must be breaking him. All you could do was wish that with Obi-Wan’s help, the two of you could support Anakin until he felt like he could breathe again. And you had faith in him. You always had faith in him. 

Grabbing your cloak, you jogged to Obi-Wan’s quarters. As soon as you opened the door, you ran to Anakin and hugged him to you, needing to feel his presence. Somehow, you knew he needed it, too. 

“Ready?” Anakin and Obi-Wan gave you nods of confirmation and you gave a tentative smile. “Alright. Let’s do this.” 

-----

Anakin entered Palpatine’s chambers first. For once, he felt sure of himself. He finally knew what he had to do. His gaze shifted to you, making sure you were alright. You placed a hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb up and down to reassure him. He inhaled. Exhaled. And ignited his saber. 

“I knew you’d come back, Skywalker. I knew you’d join me.” 

“Think again.” Obi-Wan responded as you and him walked into the chambers. Pure, unfiltered rage flickered through Palpatine’s eyes in response.

“Anakin, they’re trying to corrupt you. They’re trying to keep your power. Come with me, boy, and I’ll teach you all you wish to know. I’ll teach you how to save them.” He said, pointing a pale finger toward your face. 

You let out a sharp breath as you suddenly understood Anakin’s conflict. Of course Palpatine was using you as a bargaining chip. Using Anakin’s fear of abandonment, of losing his loved ones against him. It was disgusting, even for a Sith. 

“I… you can’t possibly know how to do that. It’s impossible!” 

“Not on the Dark Side. Look… Obi-Wan has turned them against you. He’s the cause of this! I’m sure he didn’t even pose a solution to saving Y/N. It’s because he doesn’t care about you, not like I do.” 

The shadows returned to Anakin’s eyes as his gaze switched between Obi-Wan and Palpatine. He couldn’t even bring himself to look at you, to see the pain in your eyes as he struggled with a choice that for others would be so simple. He hated himself for being weak but he truly couldn’t fathom losing you. 

Obi-Wan stepped forward, backing Palpatine against the wall and pointing his lightsaber at Palpatine’s throat. Anakin stepped back, too frozen to move, and unconsciously placed himself between them and you.

“It’s over, Chancellor. Don’t make this more difficult than it already is.” Obi-Wan said.

Palpatine shot lightning from his hands, causing Obi-Wan to deflect the matter with his lightsaber, redirecting it to Palpatine himself. As Palpatine shook from the force of his own blast, he once again called to Anakin.

“If you let him kill me, dear boy, Y/N will die. If you don’t try to save them, you will be the cause of their death.” 

Anakin’s eyes widened, those words hitting him right in the chest. He moved forward, pointing his lightsaber at Obi-Wan but refusing to make the final cut to end his life. Obi-Wan looked like he wanted to speak but the effort of holding of Palpatine’s lightning rendered him useless. It was Obi-Wan, after all. His former Master, his friend. The one person who he trusted with the secret of his marriage. He couldn’t kill him, right? He faltered, stepping slightly back. 

“Ani,” You said, your voice calm as you tried to reason with him. “Ani if you do this, you can’t come back from it. I know you don’t want to lose me and if you kill Obi-Wan, you will, regardless of the fate of my life. You aren’t too far gone, yet. You haven’t done anything irredeemable. Remember who you are, my love.” 

Anakin heard your words and looked at your face. You. He wanted to do good by you, to do good by all of them. He wanted to make his mother proud, make himself feel like leaving her for the Jedi Order meant something. And then his gaze filtered over to his friend. Obi-Wan stood tall against the force of Palpatine’s lightning, reminding Anakin of his friend’s strength. It was something Anakin wanted to emulate, too. 

Understanding his choice, Anakin took a step forward to position the blade toward Palpatine’s chest. His hand was shaking, movements unsure, eyes glossed over with immeasurable pain. But before he could make contact, you swiftly moved in front of him and killed Palpatine instead. Obi-Wan was thrust backward as the lightning ceased, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. 

“Why would you do that?” Anakin asked as he looked at you. 

“I didn’t want you to have to kill your friend. No matter what he turned out to be.” You said as you shifted on the balls of your feet. The weight of Palpatine’s death now weighed on your soul, as do those of every life you’ve ever ended. You could bear it and you knew Anakin was strong enough to do so, as well. You just didn’t want him to have to. 

Anakin nodded and whispered a thank you back to you. You just smiled, the love for him clear in your expression. Anakin turned around, walking to his friend and extending a hand for him. 

“I never doubted you.” Obi-Wan said simply as he met Anakin’s guilty eyes. 

“I should have made the choice to believe you earlier. I shouldn’t have let him get to me. I’m sorry, Master.” 

“Look at me, Anakin. We all struggle with our morals. We struggle and we’re unsure and we pray and hope to land on the right decision. And you did. You have nothing to apologize for.” Looking at your and Anakin’s arms around each other, Obi-Wan made one last decision. “How about the two of you retire for the evening? I’ll debrief with the Council, you’ve been through enough.” 

Once again, Anakin was struck by the older Jedi’s strength and selflessness. He nodded, as did you, before he accompanied you back to your quarters. 

----

You kept one arm around Anakin’s waist the entire way home, mirroring his that was around your shoulders. You couldn’t bear to separate, not after the events of the past few days. Seeing Anakin so torn up inside, it was eating away at you. Knowing you couldn’t save him was one of the hardest things you’ve ever had to deal with. 

Now, Palpatine was finally gone. There was no more threat to the Jedi Order, the Force once again balanced. But both of you still understood the one solution that hadn't been found: how to save you. It made everything easier, that you chose to kill the Chancellor. Anakin refused to voice the doubts in his head, wondering if he actually would have gone through with it knowing he would lose his chance at saving you. 

The air was melancholic surrounding you both. Heavy. Neither of you knew what to say, words failing in a moment that was so conflicted it almost overwhelmed you. But your heart warmed as you saw Anakin scamper in front of you to open and hold the door for you. You loved him so much, for doing the little things even in moments like these. It gave you hope.

You were okay with death, so long as it only affected you. When you joined the Jedi, you had to make your peace with it. But after you fell in love everything changed. You didn’t want Anakin to go through the pain of losing you. He’d been so open with you about, well, everything. Especially his past. He’d gone through so much, felt such raw pain and loss, you didn’t want to add to that. 

Taking his hands in yours, you looked into his blue eyes. 

“I don’t want you to die.” He whispered, the desperate, deflated tone making your heart break. “I won’t.” You wished to say, but you knew you couldn’t. 

“I don’t want to die, either.” You chose these words instead, relying on their honesty. 

“Palpatine could have saved you.” Anakin said after a beat. 

You sighed. “You don’t know that.” You stated, knowing it wouldn’t change how he felt. 

“Neither do you!” 

“But at what cost? At the cost of losing your soul? Anakin, you would have had to join the Sith! That’s no longer you! You’re good and you couldn’t have saved me if you were there, don’t you see that?” You pleaded. You wished he would see your logic, the truth behind your words. How even though he thought otherwise, he made the right decision. 

“What good is saving the Order if you won’t be a part of it?”

“What good is saving my life if I wouldn’t have you to live it with?” You countered. 

Anakin let out an exhausted breath before pulling you into him, hugging you. The fighting was too much and, frankly, he didn’t want to argue. Not with you, not ever. You both let out a humorless chuckle as you leaned into each other. 

“I love you.” His tone conveyed it all. 

“I love you.” You replied, your voice muffled from being pressed into his robes. 

“Can we sleep? I don’t want to face this right now. Can we just put this aside, if just for a moment? Can I lay with you and can you hold me and can we just have each other?” You questioned breathlessly.

“I would like nothing more, my love.” He smiled slightly and pressed a kiss to your head as he added the words of endearment, wanting you to understand he wasn’t upset with you. You already knew that, though. You were in love with Anakin Skywalker. Of course you’d argue from time to time. But at the end of the day, you were two hopelessly in love Jedi just trying to save each other. 

Crawling into bed, sleep came for the both of you quickly. You were holding him and he was holding you, tangled together as you nestled his warm embrace. He tucked his face into your neck as you did so and savored the feel of you next to him. Safe. 

Drifting off, Anakin tried to fight the pull of sleep, knowing he’d just suffer from another nightmare like he had every day since the first one. One where you’d die and he could do nothing to stop it. Amidst these tumultuous thoughts, his breathing evened, lulling him under. 

You were in the grass, a flower crown atop your head. Anakin was leaning against a small house. It was quaint but beautiful. Small, not outwardly flashy, but full of love and meaning. Looking around, he smiled as he saw green vines crawling up the sides of the house, a garden of your favorite flowers out front. You always had a soft spot for that. 

We are on Naboo, he realized. It was peaceful. It was the dream you always talked of together. Anakin’s breath caught as he felt the certainty of this dream. It felt just like his nightmares, except this one left him content. He didn’t want to entertain the thought for too long, afraid of jinxing it. But he knew it was prophetic. He wasn’t sure how he changed his fate, what exactly gave him this future. Something inside him just knew that when he wakes up the next morning, all will be okay. He felt infinitely lighter as he understood the threat was gone. 

When you looked up and saw him, you raced toward him and jumped into his arms. Anakin stumbled but caught you, breathing in your scent as you kissed the side of his neck. As he held you, his thoughts slightly wandered. But he was grounded by your presence, reminding him that you were safe and he was okay. With you, he was finally, completely, home.

-----

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[bitsandbobsofwriting]

A rogue Druid’s “please join us” speech to Merlin triggers a few things:

Gwaine tries to commit regicide, Leon confronts his (understandable) fear of Dragons, and Merlin has a full on mental breakdown.

The knights are left to pick up the pieces and all of them consider following Gwaine’s lead.

ANGSTY ANGSTY 

TW: Blood, death, nightmares. Physical and verbal abuse. A very brief implication of potential suicide/self harm.

Everyone notices the sudden changes within the group, it would be hard not to notice.

No one has any clue what happened though.

One day, everything is fine. If they think back, they realise Merlin had seemed a little... nervous? Maybe? But other than that, everything was fine, normal.

But the next day? From then until now, a month later? Everything was different.

Arthur seemed much angrier. He flew off the handle over the smallest mistakes, he worked the knights so hard in training that at least three of them had to go to Gaius for treatment everyday, and he didn’t seem like he planned on letting up any time soon. He snapped at everyone, even Gwen and Gaius, which was unheard of.

Merlin seemed... quieter. The knights, Gwen, and Gaius barely saw him, but when they did, he flinched at even the slightest noise; his eyes constantly darted around, looking for a way to escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

They were worried, but Arthur was so constantly furious that no one dared bring it up with him, and the one time they tried to ask Merlin, he came up with some ridiculous excuse and ran away. They thought they had barely seen him before, but after that they didn’t see him at all for at least four days.

They also noticed how both of their worrying moods seemed ten times worse when they were with each other. Even just being in the same room, made Arthur angrier, and Merlin... they didn’t want to think it but... more scared.

After three weeks of this, they gathered together, and put into place their emergency plan. Leon would speak directly to Arthur, and Lancelot would speak directly to Merlin.

Of all of them, they were the most trusted by each target, and were the most likely to get answers, and the least likely to get a bad reaction if answers were refused.

They were... pretty wrong. Merlin reacted in the same way as he had to the group two and a half weeks ago. Which is odd, because he normally tells Lancelot everything, and not only did he not tell him, he lied and came up with excuses.

Leon was much worse for wear. He showed up a while after Lancelot, pale and miserable. Arthur had just yelled at him a bunch and assigned him extra patrols.

A few days later, they were all still struggling with what to do when Arthur informed them of a quest that was to be undertaken. They were... nervous, to say the least. Going on any sort of dangerous trip with Arthur in this state was bound to go badly, but they could hardly refuse, and they definitely couldn’t bring up the issue again.

So they resigned themselves to it. Gwen wished them luck, and made sure to give Merlin an extra tight hug before they left, and Gaius slipped a few extra medical supplies in each of the knights packs, just in case.

Apparently, patrols of Camelot Knights kept going missing. Whole groups of soldiers, in one very specific area near the border, were just not coming back.

Arthur could hardly justify sending more patrols out, so despite his foul mood, and his desperation to stay away from everyone, he took himself, his five best knights, and his manservant.

Elyan could’ve sworn he heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of “As if I’d leave you here unsupervised.”, to Merlin, the tone far less jesting that it might’ve been a month ago, but he kept it to himself. They were travelling and camping together, there would hardly be an opportunity to share without Arthur and Merlin there.

And like they were all expecting, the trip was hell.

Awkward silences that not even Gwaine could fill, Merlin looking close to tears the whole time, and Arthur constantly looking like he’s considering extreme violence.

Merlin even rides at the back of the group (unheard of), doesn’t complain even once about anything (even more unheard of), and the few times he does speak, he addresses all of them by their titles (down-right panic inducing).

They, of course, realise it had been a trap far too late, and before they even had time to shout and draw their swords, the camp fades around them.

~

When they wake an indiscernible amount of time later, they have been stripped of armour and weapons, and have been shackled.

They appear to be in a circular, one-room hut, the knights spaced equally and chained to the wall. Their cloaks remain, but any chainmail or armour they had been equipped with was gone, leaving them in the thin clothes they wore underneath, completely unprotected.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, looking very confused. Once he noticed the knights stirring, he tried to take a step towards them, but frowned when he realised he couldn’t get within a arm’s reach of them.

Once the knights came around fully, they realised that whilst Merlin couldn’t move all that much, they couldn’t speak.

Arthur looks to Merlin with fury written all over his face, and pulls violently on his chains. Merlin flinches back and gasps out:

“This has nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Before the rest of the knights have time to change their expressions to one of confusion, a man walks through the door. Everyone’s gazes turn to him quickly, and they take in his appearance.

He looked like a Druid... but not quite right, like he hadn’t actually been to a camp in a while. He wore neutral colours, browns and greens, but despite his calm demeanour and gentle face, he looked a little crazed.

Where Druids stand calmly and walk softly, this man rushed in and fiddled with his hands, eyes darting around the room at everyone’s faces.

When Merlin goes to demand he introduce himself, the Druid holds a hand up, silencing him (no magic, just a gesture), and begins to speak:

“Who I am, does not matter. But I do know who you are, Emrys. I shall explain it your friends first, so they don’t get too lost.-”

The Druid smiles sadly, and turns to the knights, all of whom (apart from Lancelot) stare on in confusion at the melancholy resignation on the Druid’s face, and the dread on Merlin’s. Still unable to speak, and with very limited movement, they reluctantly resign themselves to listening to whatever speech the villain of the week had come up with.

“-Emrys has been being seen in prophetic visions for centuries. Whilst Uther Pendragon was destined to start the purge, Emrys, or as you know him: Merlin, is destined to stop it. He is said to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past present and future. He can bend the very elements of the world, bring down armies, turn cities to ash with a flick of his wrist. But destiny also foretold of The Once and Future King. Most have accepted that Arthur Pendragon, is said king.-”

Merlin was stiff but panicky during the Druid’s explanation, having realised that for whatever reason, he didn’t have access to his magic right now.

He could feel it buzzing under his skin, but every time he tried to pull it forward, it abandoned him, burrowing deep into his soul and hiding.

Merlin was tense and angry, angry that the chance to tell his friends the truth himself had been taken away, but his statue-like stillness is broken as he frowns and flinches slightly at the thinly veiled disgust in the sorcerer’s voice as he says Arthur’s name.

The Knights look confused, and very much shocked, their gazes flickering between the Druid and Merlin, but he refuses to meet their eyes.

“-Together, Emrys and the Forever King are destined to bring harmony and peace to the world, to restore magic’s place alongside the non magic, to inspire compassion, and stop the unjust genocide that Uther started.-”

Arthur and Leon shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of the late King and his sins, but are more focused on the other shocking revelations. The other knights (again, bar Lancelot, who is staring at Merlin apologetically) seem invested in the story, though they’re clearly confused.

Arthur was made aware of Merlin’s magic a few weeks ago, but despite Merlin’s choice to tell him willingly, he had reacted badly, and in his rage, hadn’t allowed Merlin to explain himself. The other knights were, of course, unaware of this, though they quickly put two and two together.

Despite Merlin’s best efforts, Arthur had stayed in the dark about the whole Emrys-prophecy-destiny thing.

The Druid gives each knight a short assessing gaze, seemingly to make sure they were paying attention.

He turns his attention back to Merlin, who is trying very hard to keep his expression blank (and failing) as he listens:

-”And how long have you waited, my friend, for Arthur to play his part in destiny. Ten years, of having the prophecies shoved down your throat by idealists, being told that you have no choice but to serve a man who would see your head on a spike should he know who you truly are. Ten years in the service of a man who has caused you nothing but pain, given you nothing but nightmares.-”

Merlin flinches and looks away. Every magic user in, or even near Camelot shares the same nightmares, all caused by the Pendragon Reign. There’s no need for a discussion about it, no need for a denial. 

“-His father ripped your family apart. He himself stood at the grave of your best friend and told you he was evil, he himself killed the woman you loved-”

Arthur frowns in confusion at this. Merlin had never been in love. But he quickly doubts himself when he hears Merlin gasp quietly, and looks to him to see a tear slip down his cheek. 

Fury flashes quickly across Lancelot’s face, obviously knowing the story, but he covers it quickly, and no one is the wiser to the anger slowly growing in his chest at what this so-called Druid was putting his friend through.

The Druid speaks his next words quietly, though still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as he lifts a soft hand and gently wipes away Merlin’s tear:

“-I know what you see when you close your eyes. I know why you are so exhausted. But do they? Have you told them?-”

The Druid nods his head in the direction of the knights, but doesn’t break eye contact with Merlin, who sniffles slightly before looking to the floor in shame. 

“-Of the smoke and flames that you choke on when you sleep? You dream of pyres built just for you, built by the people you care most about. Even when you are awake, every second you have your eyes closed, every time you blink, you are forced to picture your so-called King with a sword at your throat, as if the scene were painted onto the back of your eyelids.-”

His voice had risen as he spoke and he had begun to pace, anger growing at the pain his Lord had gone through. He practically spits the word “King”, like just saying it disgusts him. 

Merlin remains quiet, but he has a steady stream of tears down his face as he looks back at the Druid with despair. The knights watch on in anguish as they see the way he is suffering. 

Arthur stops feeling angry and confused, and starts to feel a little guilty. Not that he would let it show; he stares on blankly.

Everyone wanted desperately to believe that the Druid was lying, manipulating them, that Merlin would deny it. But he didn’t. And that told them all they needed to know.

The Druid stopped his pacing, coming to a stand still in front of Merlin and cupping one of his cheeks softly with his hand. The knights pretend not to see Merlin lean into it slightly as his tears continue to fall.

The Druid begins again, speaking softly once more:

“-Were those fears unfounded? Were those nightmares irrational? I see the terror in your eyes. I see how petrified of your King you are.-”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath and glances quickly to Arthur, before looking back at the man in front of him.

The King is taken aback, and the knights are furious at the flash of fear on Merlin’s face when his gaze had momentarily met Arthur’s.

“-What did he do, when he found out? When you bared your soul and gave him nothing but honesty, and undeserved apologies. What did he do?-”

Merlin lets out his first audible sob, and the Knights pull at their chains slightly, desperate to comfort their friend. Arthur slumps back, remembering his actions as if they were mere hours ago.

One of Merlin’s hands lifted to cover his mouth as he chokes back a second sob, but the other lifts subconsciously to tug at the scarf around his neck.

The Druid lets a single tear escape his eye as he waves his hand gently, the scarf disappearing with the gentle golden glow of his eyes.

Merlin seems too distraught to notice; and moves both hands to clamp tightly over his mouth as tears stream down his face. His shoulders hunch, but not enough for any of the knights to miss what the Druid had clearly been trying to expose; a thin, barely healed scar along the base of his throat. As if a sword had been pressed there.

The Druid’s eyes lose focus slightly and he frowns as he ghosts a finger over the scar, seemingly asking the next question to himself:

“-Nightmares on the back of your eyelids, or visions of the future, hmm?-”

His eyes refocus, and he cards a hand through Merlin’s hair, trying to calm the man’s heartache as the knights stare on in horror. 

Arthur resists the urge to look towards his knights, not wanting to see the disgusted glares he knows they’re sending his way.

The Druid pauses for a moment in his speech, waiting for Merlin to calm slightly before he quietly continued:

“-And what has he done since then? Has he allowed explanation? Has he seen the error of his ways and tried to understand? Or has he called you a liar, and a traitor. Has he called you a monster, whilst demanding that you continue to serve him?-”

Merlin’s breathing grows deeper as he struggles to control his sobs. He lowers his hands to be clenched at his sides, shaking, as the Druid softly places his hands on his shoulders.

His next words are spoken even quieter, though the knights can still hear him and the deadly anger that’s barely concealed in the man’s tone:

“-Has he laid hands on you, and called you a beast, while you cowered in fear, knowing that if you defended yourself he would see himself proven right?-”

Merlin let’s out loud, gasping sobs once more as the Druid’s hands travel softly down, from his shoulders to his wrists. There, he looks down, sorrow on his face as he carefully lifts Merlin’s sleeves, bunching them around his elbows.

The knights decide then and there they are going to protect Merlin no matter what, no matter from whom, as they each see the handprint shaped bruises littering Merlin’s arms.

“-He has hurt you, over and over and over-”

As he speaks, the Druid hovers his hands over the bruises, his eyes glowing softly golden as they heal.

“-And you despair, believing yourself worthless-”

Merlin flinches, and his sobbing grows more intense as his face is taken in soft hands.

“-waiting on a Golden Age that he refuses to bring. He is cruel, and unjust, how many more times must he hurt you? How many more of our people will the Pendragon line slaughter, out of misguided hatred? How much more sleep must you lose? How many more nightmares must you endure? You have stood loyally by his side for a decade, and had to stand and watch as he continued his father’s legacy, forced to believe it was destiny.-”

The Druid says “destiny” as if he hates the taste of the word in his mouth, the bloodshed of the past almost thirty years clearly having made him lose faith in the prophecies.

Merlin’s breathing has calmed slightly, and the knights aren’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened, as the Druid desperately continues, clutching Merlin’s hands in his own:

“-Too many lives have been lost, too much innocent blood spilt. Haven’t you yourself been forced to kill your own people to protect this False King from the consequences of his own actions?-”

The knights think too soon as Merlin’s breathing and sobs grow erratic once more. The manservant almost falls to the floor, his eyes clenched desperately shut, and only the Druids hands on his shoulders keeping him upright:

“-I was young, and naïve once. I too, believed in Arthur Pendragon, I believed in the prophecies, I believed he would a great king and a good man-”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s as he gently says:

“-but he is not. He has failed you, and failed our people.-”

The Druid steps back, but still holds Merlin’s shoulder tightly as he gives him a pleading look.

The knights know what’s coming before it is said, and with the anguish and desperation and grief on their friend’s face? After they learned what their benevolent King had done? Well... they wouldn’t have blamed Merlin for saying yes.

“-I ask you to join me, Emrys. I know it’s difficult, to give up on a man you gave so much of yourself to, but there is too much Uther in him. It’s time, and you know this, to rewrite destiny. Dig your own path, liberate your own people, bring magic and compassion and harmony back to the world yourself.-”

Merlin, though distraught, still looks doubtful, and the knights hold their breath as the Druid continues, becoming more and more furious at their inability to speak. 

All of them have tears in their eyes, if not falling already, even Arthur, though he has remained still and blank through the tears.

“-I know the flames you fear, the sword’s edge, the gallows’ drop, the axe’s fall. Do not let our kin continue to fear those things, do not stand by, waiting for the Pendragon tyrant to change, and allowing sacrifices to be made in the mean time.-”

Merlin’s sobbing begins again, and the Druid kisses him softly on the forehead before kneeling to the floor, gripping Merlin’s hands and looking up at him desperately:

"-You are Emrys, Lord of the Druids, and Conduit for all magic of this world. Not some servant that an entitled brat can toss around and treat lesser than the dirt he walks on. You are my King, our King. Not him.-”

He stands again and grips Merlin’s arms tightly, most likely leaving more bruises in place of the ones he had healed.

Merlin doesn’t notice the pain, but shakes his head stutteringly, still crying.

“-Do not let your people lose you to Arthur, as Arthur lost himself to Uther. To give up on him is painful, but the screams of your kin, burning for their gifts, echoing in your skull day and night?-”

The Druid’s hands move up to grip the sides of Merlin’s head, and he shakes him ever so slightly, his tone frantic and pleading:

“-That is worse. That is pain he will never understand, and certainly never care for. Join me, please my Lord I beg you, for our people.”

One of the Druid’s hands slides lower, to softly cup Merlin’s cheek again, but the other drops entirely.

The knights have never resented being magically gagged more than in this moment. They could do nothing but watch on in horror as the man summons a dagger behind his back.

The Druid is clearly waiting on his response, and Merlin is too distraught to notice the consequences of a wrong answer, tears flowing quickly down his face and ugly sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

Arthur watches in terror, knowing that this was his fault, that every shitty, selfish decision he had ever made had to led to this point. And the knights knew it too.

All they can do is pray to every deity they know the name of, that Arthur has done enough damage for Merlin to say yes. And oh, what a terrible thing to pray for.

The Druid softly strokes Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb as the Warlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up, meeting the gaze of the man opposite him before croaking:

“I... I can’t. Arthur is a good man, I have faith that he will-”

Before he can finish his sentence, the dagger is thrust up into his chest, his words stuttering to a stop and his red-rimmed eyes growing wide at the sudden, agonising pain spreading throughout his body.

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights pulling roughly at their chains, but he pays them no mind as blood gurgles up his throat and he frowns, struggling to hear what the Druid was whispering in his ear:

“Then you have forsaken your people, and so I shall forsake you. Traitor.”

With that, Merlin is dropped roughly to the floor, dagger still imbedded in his chest as he lands on his side. Blood spills from both his mouth and the wound, eyes unfocused but heavy as the tears continue to overflow.

The knights are silently screaming, thrashing against their chains as their friend chokes, but Merlin ignores them in favour of smiling gently at the soft feeling of nothing, growing outwards from his chest.

He frowns once more, as though remembering something, and his eyes go glassy as two words escape from his mouth, barely a whisper:

“I’m... sorry...”

An apology to whom, no one knows, but with those last words his body goes completely still, the pool of blood still expanding beneath him, and his eyes unseeingly staring just to the left of The King.

No one in the room can tear their eyes from Merlin’s pale corpse, face now a mess of tears and blood.

The Druid looks down at him with an odd mix of contempt, and genuine sorrow. He had obviously waited long enough that his resentment of Arthur had bled into his feelings for his so-called saviour, but still grieved for what could have been.

The Knights look at him in horror, all understanding that they had never been lucky, they had just had Merlin. He had never asked for thanks, or recognition, or reward. He had kept them all safe, at great expense to himself, and now he was dead.

Lancelot seems the... calmest, though he still cries like the rest of them. He had, in theory, known of the pain Merlin was in, but had he known it was plaguing him to this extent... well perhaps he wouldn’t have been so loyal to Arthur.

Arthur himself stares at Merlin with nothing but terror and agonising grief. He had done this. If he had just let Merlin explain, if he had just given him five minutes, instead of bruises and nightmares and fear, then he would still be alive. 

If he hadn’t been so selfish and cruel, perhaps hundreds of people, just like Merlin, just as scared and innocent as Merlin, would also be alive. 

Merlin had spent his entire time in Camelot trying to convince Arthur that he wasn’t his father... and Arthur had gone and proven him wrong at every turn. And even then Merlin still had faith, still called him a good man.

The silencing spell still has hold over the knights, so they cry and scream and thrash soundlessly as the Druid finally rips his gaze from the body at his feet.

He steps carefully around Merlin to stand in front of Arthur. The sorrow clears from his face, leaving only contempt and rage left to be directed at the man in front of him. Arthur does not look up, keeping his tear stained face focused on the floor, even as the Druid begins to speak:

“You see what you have done, Arthur Pendragon? You think magic is the thing that corrupts, but it is not. It is you. Emrys was meant to be a saviour, a God, a guiding light to help our people to safety, but you tainted him, reduced him to nothing more than a sad, scared boy, and then reduced him further, to a corpse. My hands are clean of blood Pendragon, but yours?? Oh, yours are drenched in it.”

Arthur slowly lifts his distraught gaze to the Druid, but quickly widens his eyes at what he sees.

Merlin stands behind the Druid, eyes glowing golden, tears once more streaming down his face as he grips the handle of the dagger, still buried in his chest.

The bloodstains grow even larger as he grimaces slightly and pulls it free, before wordlessly forcing it through the Druid’s back.

The man lets out a sudden gasp, and looks down to see just the tip of the blade poking out where his heart should be. He gargles something, words that no one can make out, before Merlin pulls the dagger out again, and his body crumples to the floor.

The knights and Arthur can feel the silencing spell release them, but none of them make even a noise as they stare in shock at their tormented, but very much alive, friend.

Merlin drops the dagger from his hand and it lands with a splash in the mixing puddles of blood, before he himself falls harshly to his knees.

The others finally break out of their stupor, once again pulling towards their friend. Their cries and shouts of his name can be heard by everyone but him as he leans forward, placing his forehead against that of the lifeless Druid.

His cries grow erratic again as he whispers apology after apology, and every heart breaks even more at the sight before them.

They know why he apologises, they know why he grieves, even over a man who had tried to... had succeeded in killing him. The death of yet another of his own kind who was sick of waiting, who was rightfully angry, was not something to be celebrated.

They had thought, at the beginning of this, that they would get through whatever the Druid threw at them, they always did. But this, the brokenness of one of their dearest friends, was not something that looks fixable.

Merlin finally sits up again and he sobs louder, still deaf and blind to those around him. Lancelot has just enough time to yell at the others to cover their eyes, as a gut-wrenching scream escapes the Warlock.

They’re almost blinded, even with their eyes tightly shut and their arms thrown up. The scream is the loudest, and most anguished they’ve ever heard, and the force in which Merlin releases his magic completely eviscerates the hut they had been chained in.

Each of them is thrown violently backwards, and their chains crumble to the floor with the rest of the building as they try to find purchase on the ground. None of them are hurt too badly, and they’re grateful for the fact that even in this state, Merlin’s magic seems incapable of really causing them any damage.

The scream ends, and the knights look up to see Merlin sat in the middle of the crater he had created, staring blankly into the middle distance. Tears still stream down his face, but he doesn’t move and he makes no sound, just kneels there with his blood soaked hands on his lap, palms towards the sky.

It takes a few moments for the knights to regain their senses, but once they do, all hell breaks loose.

Gwaine immediately gets to his feet and makes a rush towards Arthur, fully intending on throttling him, screaming obscenities as he went, but Percival and Elyan jump forward, grabbing an arm each and dragging him away as he curses the King and the Sky and the Gods.

As much as Percival and Elyan were not impartial to killing Arthur right now, Merlin was the priority, and as much as he may have deserved it, Merlin would never forgive them if they hurt the King.

Arthur seems to be unaware of the attempt on his life made by one of his most trusted knights, and just stares blankly at an equally blank Merlin.

Lancelot and Leon make a bee-line for the Warlock, but stop just short of touching him, not knowing how he would react. 

Leon nods gently at Lancelot, clearly having picked up that this knight had already known at least part of the story. Lancelot returns his nod, before moving forward slowly. The body of the Druid lays untouched at Merlin’s knees, and the knight removes his cloak, laying it over him, before reaching a slow hand towards Merlin’s shoulder.

He finally makes contact after a little hesitation, whispering his name as gently and as comfortingly as he is able with tears still leaking from his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t react at all to Lancelot’s touch, not even when he takes his bloody hand, or shakes his shoulder slightly; just sits and stares and cries.

Leon gulps before reaching forward himself. He grabs the dagger from besides Merlin and tosses it behind him (he didn’t like to think about that action too much. He has no idea what state his friend is in right now, best to not have any sharp instruments within his reach when he came to.) before lifting his hand to wipe away the man’s tears.

Arthur stares upon all of this in horror from his position sprawled on the floor a few metres away.

Elyan and Percival have just about managed to calm Gwaine, and they begin making their way to Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin, but before they get even halfway there, Arthur finally speaks.

His voice breaks, and is barely audible, but everyone hears him nonetheless as he murmurs:

“I did this...”

Gwaine makes another run at him, regaining his anger, and Percival and Elyan just about manage to grab him before he commits regicide.

Lancelot and Leon look up at him sharply, but when Lancelot lowers his gaze and continues to try and rouse Merlin, Leon holds the King’s gaze, and says strongly:

“Yes. Yes you did, My Lord.”

Arthur’s face crumbles even more, and Leon glares at him with venom for a few more seconds, before giving Lancelot a soft pat on the back, and walking towards the other three.

He mumbles a few harsh things that only Gwaine can hear, who responds at first with more anger, but then resignation. The First Knight gives the man a pat on the back and nods knowingly at Elyan and Percival. No one, not even Gwaine, pretends to miss the meaning of “be ready to catch him again” in the gesture.

Arthur stays in his position on the floor as the four of them walk softly towards Merlin and Lancelot, but before they get there, everyone’s gazes are drawn to the shadow in the sky, getting closer and closer.

It moves with an alarming place, and their anger at Arthur is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles up and screams:

“DRAGON!!”

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Arthur rush forward to stand between the beast and the other three. They have no armour or weapons, but like hell were they just going to let it get to them.

Lancelot looks up to see the white, horse sized beast land heavily in front of The King, his eyes widen and he jumps up, rushing forward to push between the others.

Leon moves to hold a still unresponsive Merlin behind his back protectively, but frowns in confusion when Lancelot yells at Arthur (who had been about to run at the beast):

“NO! No don’t hurt her! She’s Merlin’s, don’t hurt her!”

Everyone looks at him in confusion and fear as he slowly approaches the Dragon, she had been growling lowly at first, but seemed to perk up when she saw Lancelot.

Lancelot gives her a small smile, and holds his hand out, allowing her to come to him, before quietly saying:

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Aithusa. Merlin is over here.”

He turns back towards the others, and calmly, but forcefully says:

“Move. She needs to see him.”

Gwaine nods after a moment, trusting Lancelot, and moves out of the way. Arthur goes to argue, but Elyan and Percival roughly shove him to the side, clearing a path to Merlin and Leon for Lancelot and the new, slightly terrifying, arrival.

Leon looks up fearfully, still in front of Merlin protectively. He stares at the Dragon for a few moments, breathing deeply, before looking up at Lancelot. Lancelot gives him a weak smile, and a nod before saying quietly:

“He’s a Dragon-Lord. She can help him, it’s ok.”

Leon gulps, before nodding, and stepping out of the way. He doesn’t move too far, obviously still affected by his last encounter with a Dragon, and watches with unconcealed suspicion as Aithusa prances around Lancelot at his nod.

The others crowd closer as well, looking on in confusion, awe, suspicion, as Aithusa slowly approaches Merlin.

She lays down at his side, gently pressing her head onto Merlin’s hands, still in his lap. Her mouth opens and Leon gasps as she blows a gentle mist up into his face. Merlin’s back straightens and the knights can see his eyes come back into focus as he blinks.

They all stare with bated breath as he gulps, and begins to notice his surroundings; looking in fear at the crater around him.

Merlin is broken from his growing panic as Aithusa chirps softly from his lap, and his head whips down, only now noticing her.

The knights let out a collective breath as he smiles, very slightly and very briefly, but still; after what they had just seen him go through they would take anything. He leans his head down, and wraps his arms around the creature. She chirps once again, louder this time, as she uses her tail to push away the forgotten Druid’s corpse. 

She curls her body around Merlin protectively, and he collapses even further into the semi-embrace she’s giving him. The knights smile slightly, relieved that Merlin seems responsive, and safe, before they take slow steps towards the two of them.

She whips her head up quickly and growls at them, digging her front claws into the ground. They take in sudden breaths and stop moving, wary, but she stops growling when she looks to Lancelot.

The others stare on in shock and confusion as she tilts her head slightly, and Lancelot nods as he quietly says:

“They’re friends, it’s ok.”

The creature seems to nod, and the others follow behind Lancelot as he begins moving towards Merlin again.

He crouches down, and gives Aithusa a well-received scratch on the chin, before he gently places a hand between Merlin’s shoulder-blades.

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and finally Leon follow suit, sitting carefully next to the Dragon, but unlike Lancelot, they don’t touch her, or Merlin. She may seem safe and loving and on their side, but she was still a Dragon.

Arthur moves a little slower, not sure if he’s welcome (he’s not) but when he gets within five feet of the group huddled on the floor, Aithusa lifts her head and growls again.

Elyan and Percival are shocked at the sudden movement, but Gwaine smirks, and Leon nods his head approvingly (though he’s still understandably... nervous). Lancelot looks back at a shocked and still tear-stricken Arthur, and speaks. His voice is quiet, but his tone is vicious:

“They have a mental link; she sees what he sees. It might be best, Your Majesty, for you to stay away.”

He doesn’t bother to watch Arthur’s reaction; he turns back and begins carding a soft hand through Merlin’s hair. He flinches only slightly before relaxing under the soft ministrations, and Aithusa gives Lancelot an affectionate lick on the arm.

The other knights do see the way that Arthur flinches, before he gives a shaky nod and takes a few steps back. He goes to say something, but the tears in his eyes overflow, and he turns to walk away.

Gwaine’s smirk grows slightly before he drops it entirely and turns back to the others, no longer caring what Arthur got up to. He is the first of the knights, other than Lancelot, to be brave enough to reach a hand forward and stroke Aithusa gently.

Elyan and Percival hesitatingly follow his lead, and Aithusa chirps happily at the attention. Leon’s gaze follows Arthur as he walks towards the horses.

They were far away, well out of the way of Merlin’s blast, but even with the distance Leon could see they were shaken. Thankfully they had been tied to the trees, otherwise he’s certain they would have bolted.

Leon finds it only slightly surprising that he feels no sympathy for the King. There’s only so much you can forgive a man for. When Arthur finally reaches the horses and begins untacking them, he looks away, back to Aithusa and Merlin.

Everyone can tell that Camelot’s First Knight is still rather shaken at the presence of the Dragon, but when Merlin looks up slightly to see him still sat there, unwilling to leave him, his heart swells a little.

Leon meets his gaze and gulps, but returns Merlin’s shaky smile.

The other knights smile as well, glad that Merlin was feeling at least a little better, and Percival speaks quietly, not wanting to spook him (or the Dragon):

“Hey, there’s our lucky charm.”

The other knights give him questioning looks but Merlin just chuckles slightly, before sitting up properly, and focusing his attention on running his fingers over Aithusa’s scales, picking out grass and mud.

Percival looks indignant before replying, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:

“What? You honestly thought that tree branches only fell if there was a fight happening, and then only fell on the enemies?? The rock-falls? The fires even when it was pouring with rain?? The miraculous solutions to end-of-the-world type problems?? Come on, guys.”

The others look taken aback at that, but Lancelot just smiles knowingly. They all look to Merlin, who has managed to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he just shrugs slightly.

The rest of them, bar Leon, let out small huffs of laughter, and continue to stroke Aithusa, knowing that Merlin almost certainly isn’t ready for an actual conversation yet.

Merlin looks at Leon’s pale form assessingly, before a look of realisation crosses his face. The knight is tense, and staring at Aithusa’s sharp teeth with worry, but his gaze is quickly drawn to Merlin when he reaches a shaky hand towards him.

Merlin gives him an understanding smile, and crooks his fingers, encouraging the curly-haired knight to take his hand. Leon does so, and his breath hitches as Merlin lowers their intertwined hand to rest on the top of Aithusa’s head.

Leon lets out a slow breath as he feels Elyan’s supportive hand on his back, but relaxes fully when he sees the sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. Anything to make their Warlock happy in this moment. And forever, probably.

Gwaine looks at Leon out of the corner of his eye, and says lowly:

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to try and kill him if I look at him again, so what’s the King up to?”

Merlin tenses slightly, but Leon squeezes his hand and he relaxes again. Lancelot raises and eyebrow and before Leon can reply, he says:

“What, no princess?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes before gruffly saying:

“Princess was an affectionate nickname, and I’m not feeling all that affectionate towards him right now.”

The others nod knowingly, turning their attention back to Merlin and Aithusa. Leon leaves his hand in Merlin’s, but looks at Gwaine before saying lowly:

“He went to deal with the horses. Now we know we no longer need a quick get-away, they need untacking and feeding and watering. They were pretty spooked by... they were pretty spooked.”

Leon looks back at Merlin when his hand gets squeezed, to see him frowning slightly. Leon catches his eye and gives him a small smile, but Merlin just gets teary-eyed again, before sniffing and muttering:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to I just... I’m sorry.”

Only a single tear has time to fall before Lancelot has his hand on Merlin’s shoulder again (comfortingly), and Elyan has his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder (forcefully). Leon shakes his head softly, and responds in a gentle voice:

“You don’t have anything to apologise for Merlin, we are the ones who should be sorry, for not being able to protect you.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and he goes to retort, but Gwaine beats him to it, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice:

“From the so-called Druid and from him. We should have done better.”

Leon can feel Merlin’s hand begin to shake, so he squeezes it once more as Merlin shakes his head and speaks, his voice sounding stronger already:

“It’s not his fault. He was just shaken and scared and I should have-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw, struggling to keep control of his rage, but Elyan grips his shoulder tighter in warning, and replies in his stead, interrupting Merlin:

“There’s no excuse Merlin. All of us have been attacked by magic, but equally, all of us have been attacked by swords. I mean look at Leon, giving Dragons a second chance after what happened. I would perhaps understand brief anger, but there is no way to justify laying his hands on you in such a way that leaves bruises, and certainly no justification for putting a blade to your throat.”

Merlin frowns, and looks like he wants to argue, but once again, a knight beats him to it, Lancelot this time:

“No, Merls. We know how much he means to you. But what he did was wrong, there’s no rationalisation. We all know that you’ve already forgiven him, and that’s why we can’t yet. Probably not for a while.”

Merlin sighs, looking pained, and Leon uses his other hand to tilt his chin up:

“Not to say that we won’t ever forgive him. But someone has to be angry at him for what he’s done, and Lord knows you aren’t gonna do it. Consider us your stand-ins.”

Merlin smiles slightly, and Leon considers that a win, returning the smile and nodding slightly to himself, before looking back down at the Dragon, now seemingly asleep, and purring, on Merlin’s lap.

Elyan releases the death grip on Gwaine’s shoulder, when the now much calmer knight, with a smile on his face, says:

“So... you have a Dragon??”

Merlin chuckles fondly, before looking to him and saying quietly:

“Yeah. Her name is Aithusa. I’m surprised she came alone, Kilgharrah usually doesn’t like it when she runs off.”

Lancelot winces slightly as the other knights look shocked, before Percival says:

“Kil-what-now? There’s another one??”

Merlin grimaces slightly, before looking to Leon worriedly and tightening the grip on his hand:

“Uhh... yeah. Kilgharrah is the name of the Dragon that... attacked Camelot a few years ago.-”

Leon straightens his back and gulps, but doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s, nodding at him to continue:

“-I didn’t have control over him until right at the end. I told him to leave and never come back, unless I called him-”

Lancelot makes a noise of realisation as he nods, and interrupts Merlin:

“That’s probably why Aithusa came alone. You didn’t call for her, and technically we’re still within Camelot’s borders. He couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Poor sod is probably clomping around at the edge of the border freaking out.”

Merlin looks to Lancelot and nods, satisfied to feel Leon relax a bit, before looking back to the First Knight apologetically:

“-He does feel really bad at that. He just wanted to get back at Uther for the whole... genocide thing I guess. But that’s no excuse. I just didn’t want to be the one to be responsible for killing the last Dragon, even if Kilgharrah personally might’ve deserved it at the time. That was all before Aithusa came along.”

Everyone nods in understanding, before focussing their attention back on Aithusa. She really was like a giant puppy, even if they had to be wary to avoid her claws as she twitched in her sleep.

Merlin sighs, looking forlorn once again as he realises how exhausted he is, knowing that they’re going to have to get up and make camp at some point. 

He can cope with an awkward, tense silence between him and Arthur easily enough, that’s what the last few weeks had consisted of. But an awkward and tense silence between everyone? Elyan and Percival inwardly fuming? Gwaine outwardly fuming? Leon and Lancelot being all protective? He’s not sure he can deal with that.

At Merlin’s sigh, Lancelot tilts his head to catch his eye. His brow creases as he says softly:

“What is it, Merls?”

Merlin looks up, still squeezing Leon’s hand, before quietly replying:

“Nothing, I’m just tired. We have to re-make camp at some point and I’m not sure if I can deal with everyone being so...”

He waves his free hand around loosely, and Lancelot huffs out a laugh, before kicking Gwaine, getting everyone’s attention:

“We have to go make camp. But Merlin is exhausted, and doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit tonight, so we’re all going to have to play nice for the time being.”

Gwaine growls, and quickly retorts:

“Like hell am I gonna treat him with-”

Lancelot kicks him again, harder this time, and Elyan replaces the harsh hand on his shoulder before forcefully saying:

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arthur deserves. Merlin needs peace and quiet, and that’s what we’re going to give him.”

Gwaine grumbles, but begrudgingly nods, and Merlin gives him a grateful smile. 

The knights all stand up, and Merlin shakes Aithusa awake, giving a small chuckle when she stretches like a cat.

Once she takes her weight off of his lap, Merlin follows the knights to stand, almost falling over at the weakness in his legs. Leon and Lancelot catch an arm each, steadying him as he shuts his eyes tightly, willing the dizziness away.

He feels a hand wipe the hair from his forehead, and opens his eyes slowly to see Percival checking him over with an assessing gaze:

“I’m fine, just tired, a little dizzy.”

Lancelot nods in understanding, humming slightly:

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you haven’t done anything this big in a while, and I doubt you’ve slept well in the last few weeks.”

Merlin gives him a sheepish look as he shakes his head, but it’s Elyan’s questioning gaze that Lancelot responds to:

“I found out by accident when I first met him. Our Warlock isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

He says it with a small smirk as he looks back down to Merlin, who’s looking indignant:

“Hey! I managed to keep everyone else from finding out.”

Gwaine looks guilty as he raises his arm quietly:

“Actually uh... I knew. I mean not about the whole Emrys, prophecy thing. But the magic stuff, yeah.”

Merlin looks at him, shocked. The other knights share his expression for just a moment before they laugh at the look on Merlin’s face:

“How?!”

Gwaine puts his arm down and laughs again:

“Mate... we met in the middle of a tavern fight, in which shit started literally flying about the moment you joined in.-”

He shrugged, before casually continuing:

“-I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. Until then, it wasn’t my secret to know. You also have me to thank for backing you up every time The Prick asked if I saw you at the tavern.”

Merlin laughed and nodded his thanks, before looking over to where said Prick was setting up camp, a few metres beyond the edge of the crater.

His face fell slightly and the others follow his gaze, tensing slightly in anger when they saw what he was looking at. Merlin takes his arms from Leon and Lancelot, finally feeling steady on his feet, before quietly saying:

“Come on, we might as well get this over with. I’m starving, and tired, and Aithusa will get bored if we don’t start entertaining her.”

Everyone turns around to see Aithusa (now she was sure that her Lord was ok), prancing about in the crater; chasing birds and digging holes.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and everyone else chuckles slightly. Gwaine pushes Lancelot out of the way and takes Merlin’s hand, beginning to walk determinedly towards camp. Everyone catches up quickly, Leon taking Merlin’s other hand when the man had reached out to grab his cape.

Gwaine looks down at Merlin, seeing how nervous he is, and says:

“So. How long until she’s big enough to be ridden? I want you to take me flying, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckles, and looks back to see Aithusa happily trailing them:

“Not for a while. Dragons grow slow, so it’ll be another few years at least. Plus she’s got some issues with bone growth that we’re still trying to fix. She’ll be fine in the long run, but her development is taking a lot longer than normal. She still can’t speak.”

Everyone stops at that, and Merlin’s arms get yanked back when he continued walking. He turns to see Leon giving him an incredulous look:

“Dragons can speak?!”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, before laughing and tugging them forwards again:

“Yeah. I forget that Uther basically erased all knowledge on Dragons, but they’re just as intelligent as we are. Kilgharrah would like to think that they’re more intelligent, but he’s always been a cryptic, egotistical bastard.-”

The others follow his pace and nod, but the mood darkens as they almost reach the camp. Merlin continues faintly, but quickly:

“I’ll tell you everything I know when... when we get back.”

Leon squeezes his hand, knowing that he was about to say “if”, assuring him that “when” is the right word.

Arthur looks up at the group and gulps from his place next to the fire. He straightens up, the anxiety showing clearly on his face, but before anyone can say anything, Aithusa jumps in between him.

He falls back at the sudden movement and she begins to growl; he widens his eyes as she stalks slowly towards him.

Gwaine smirks again, the others managing to keep their faces blank, but Merlin looks shocked, before he jumps forward and puts a hand on the Dragon’s back:

“Aithusa no. He’s a... friend. It’s ok, he’s-”

Arthur jumps to his feet and interrupts him:

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll... go... sit over there.”

He gestures behind him, and walks quickly away from the fire, sitting just within the fire’s light, the evening dimming around them.

Aithusa tilts her head, snaps her jaws at him once more before completely changing disposition. She begins bouncing around the fire, chirping happily and playfully trying to catch floating embers in her claws.

Merlin smiles slightly and the other knights (bar Gwaine, who is glaring very pointedly at Arthur) chuckle at her antics, before they all sit in a semi circle on the opposite side of the fire to Arthur, Merlin in the middle.

The Warlock is once again wedged protectively between Leon and Gwaine, and he fiddles softly with Leon’s cape in his lap as he stares fondly at Aithusa.

Elyan moves to the packs, unloading food and water and cooking pots. Merlin gets up to help, but Gwaine pulls him back down by the hand and holds on firmly as he says:

“You’ve been through enough. We can put up with Elyan’s shitty cooking for a couple nights.”

Merlin tries to pull away with a “But I can-” but Leon grabs his other hand, holding him down and interrupting:

“Absolutely not. You said yourself that you’re tired. If Elyan needs help, he can ask one of us.”

Merlin huffs sulkily and Leon laughs, stroking the back of his hand protectively.

Leon had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and whilst they had virtually nothing to do with each other the first few years, they were still friendly acquaintances, even then. Leon knew full well that it was Merlin who would have a hot meal left in his room after a late patrol, and Merlin always appreciated how Leon kept as many weapons in the armoury in as good nick as possible, so Merlin didn’t have to deal with it.

Besides, even before they knew each other’s names, Leon always found Merlin’s reactions to Arthur’s stupidity funny. He could hardly say it out loud, being the Perfect Knight and all, but he always thought it was a good thing that Arthur had someone at his side keeping him humble, and calling him out in ways no one else would.

Of course they had gotten much closer over the years, as did all of the knights, thanks to Merlin. Currently, Leon was feeling just a tinge of regret at being so grateful for Merlin’s presence at Arthur’s side; he had never really thought about how difficult being that man’s babysitter would be, especially now he knew Merlin had magic. And some sort of destiny.

Time passes fairly quickly whilst Elyan cooks, the others taking to heart what Lancelot had said and trying to keep a quiet, but easy conversation going.

They ask Merlin various questions about Aithusa, Kilgharrah, the Druids, the weird name that he had been called. He answered them all easily enough, but they notice the way he hesitates when they ask about his magic specifically or the prophecies, so they steer clear of those topics.

They’ll definitely want to know the whole story eventually, and they’re practically buzzing with desperation to ask Merlin to show them something magical, but they know that now is not the time.

Dinner is finally served, and despite Gwaine’s statement, it wasn’t actually that bad. Mainly because every time Elyan went to add something to the pot, he would look back desperately at Merlin, and took into account the shakes and nods of his head with a grateful smile.

He did struggle to cover the scowl on his face when he delivered Arthur’s bowl to him, replying to The King’s quiet “thank you, Elyan” with an even quieter “don’t mention it” .

Dinner was eaten quickly and in silence. They hadn’t been unconscious for long, and hour or two at most, but they had all worked up an understandable appetite, Merlin especially. He would never ask for seconds, but knowing that, Elyan gave him an extra big serving without a word.

They entertained themselves after dinner by throwing the last scraps of meat to Aithusa, watching her jump and flip and fly about the camp. Merlin had objected at first, but gave in when he saw the small grin on Leon’s face, and heard the way the others were laughing. The City was only a few days ride away, they could always hunt on the way back.

It didn’t take long for her to tire out and curl up at Merlin’s feet to sleep. Like Merlin had mentioned, Aithusa was developing slowly, and she normally couldn’t fly very far; it must’ve taken a huge amount of energy and effort for her to get all the way here. But like the Knights, she was very protective, and there was no way she could not check on her Lord, after she and Kilgharrah had felt the anguish he was in.

As Kilgharrah once again crosses Merlin’s mind, he sighs, and makes mental note to call him in the morning, when he had more energy.

Merlin is distracted from his thoughts when the camp goes silent all of a sudden, and Gwaine reaches over to squeeze his hand. He looks up in worry, to see that Arthur had stood, and walked a little closer, though he made sure to stay the other side of the fire.

Merlin tenses slightly. He tries not to let it show, but he can knows that he failed when he feels Leon’s hand firmly in the middle of his back. Hidden from the others, but a silent reassurance.

Arthur gulps, obviously nervous, but he meets Merlin’s gaze, flinching at the slight fear in his eyes:

“Merlin, I know nothing I say will-”

He’s interrupted by Gwaine growling and standing suddenly, stepping in front of Merlin protectively, but it’s Lancelot’s harsh words that cut him off fully:

“Not tonight, Arthur. We’re all tired and angry so just... not tonight.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, and blinks away tears before nodding:

“Yes, I... I understand.”

With that, he sniffles slightly before taking a step back. He looks to the floor as he mumbles something about checking the perimeter, before slowly walking away from the camp, into the night.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and relaxes slightly as Leon runs his hand over his back. Gwaine stares after Arthur for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not to follow him (and presumably, kick his ass). Merlin reaching up to take his hand and pull him back down makes his mind up, and he settles back into his seat, Merlin’s small hand clasped between his two larger ones.

Percival speaking up breaks the tense silence:

“It’s late and Lance is right, we’re all tired. If we want to make quick work of the journey home, and have time to hunt, then we should get some sleep.”

Murmurs of agreement float up around the group, and Gwaine, voice still tense and angry, says:

“I’ll take first-”

But he’s quickly interrupted by Elyan, softly laughing:

“Absolutely not, Gwaine. If you’re left alone we’ll all wake to find the King dead in the morning.”

Gwaine raises a challenging eyebrow, not denying anything, and Elyan huffs, Percival muttering:

“Fine. But I’m taking it with you so you don’t get a chance to smother him.”

Gwaine gives a sarcastic looking smile, before ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly and walking towards the fire. He adds another log, grabs his bedroll, and settles down against a tree, Percival sitting at his side.

Everyone else gathers their rolls, and whilst normally they spread out, they all seem rather desperate to stay as close to Merlin as possible.

Normally he would complain, they all snore, and Merlin is definitely expecting nightmares tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to send them away, and to be perfectly honest, he's certain that they would just move back the moment he closed his eyes anyway.

The Warlock finds himself tucked under Lancelot’s arm, with Leon a respectful distance away on his other side, though still within arm’s reach. Elyan settles somewhere below his feet, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin finds himself fully relaxed. 

Aithusa sleepily moves from her spot by Merlin’s feet, to curl up with Gwaine and Percival, and Merlin smiles at the thought that she not only trusts his friends in general, but trusts them enough to leave Merlin in their care. Dragons are protective and possessive creatures, and that trust speaks volumes.

Merlin is still a little miserable, and he almost resents himself for still being scared of Arthur despite his obvious regret, but... with all that happened... well. You can’t really blame him.

He’s got a gaggle of very protective knights around him, one of which he can vaguely hear trying to persuade another to commit regicide when no one was looking.

He has time to huff out a small laugh as Lancelot pulls him closer, before he drifts off; much quicker than he thought he would. He was comforted by the warmth behind him, the presence at his feet, the guardians watching over him, and the hand reaching towards him in the dark, just about close enough to lay fingers over Merlin’s heartbeat.

No nightmares plague him that night, and he doesn’t even wake to the warning growls sent Arthur’s way when he eventually returned to camp.

The next few days, hell, the next few months would probably be difficult, but he finds himself not as anxious now he knows he won’t have to face it alone.

~

THE END

I don’t think I’ll write a part two to this, but if someone wants to extend it, feel free, same as normal: credit and tag me :)

I’ve had the whole speech written out in full in my phone notes for like two months, but only recently got round to actually turning it into anything. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I wanted to write something hella angsty so....

I’m fairly certain whatever I write next will be the dead opposite of this (FLUFF fluff) but honestly who knows.

Let me know if there’s anything specific you want my thoughts on :)

[prismadog]

Found Family AU character facts/background (part 7)

well, folks, we've made it to the last one of these posts - minus the upcoming master post. these just seem to get longer and longer, or maybe it's just because the past two have been about siblings? idk, all I know is that I'm a bit tired of writing these atm.

this last one should - SHOULD be shorter, but we'll see. this one will feature our last two characters - Mr. there's-no-such-thing-as-a-demon Joel Smallishbeans and good ol' Copper Dad Pixlriffs.

*did you know that Mesoglea is a word? I didn't until I kept trying to type "Mezalea" and my computer kept wanting to change it. Mesoglea is a gelatinous substance between the endoderm and ectoderm of sponges or cnidarians, or something. there's your word of the day and it's all thanks to the red squiggly line that appears every time I type "Mezalea"

*edit: guess what? y'all get two of these in one day because I felt like writing this last one! [technically, it's already Saturday but to me, the next day doesn't start until the sun comes up so yeah...two in one day! whoo!] the master post will be tomorrow sometime but idk when.

Joel

Joel is the only child to the Mezalean King and Queen, and was less born to them and more born from the Mother Tree - they couldn't have children so they begged the Mother Tree for an heir, She granted them a child who they raised as their own.

he was often alone growing up, never really played with the other children, but he wasn't lonely - so he and others would say - because he had his terracotta clones. he built many of them with his own two hands and the Mother Tree gave them life. he was raised as a prince and often went to the Gathering of the Empires with his father.

he got on well enough with the other children but kept mostly to himself - that is until he met the princess of the Ocean Empire. he noticed the other noble children seemed afraid of her so he took it upon himself to befriend her - plus, she was so different from the humans/clones around him, she was interesting with her pink hair and pearlescent skin and unnaturally blue eyes.

they would meet at the Gathering and spend the whole time together talking about their kingdoms and their hobbies - Joel was really into building and playing pranks on people, Lizzie was into raising axolotls and has a brother who she looks after. the short meetings weren't enough and Joel talked to his parents about visits with the Ocean Empire - it only makes sense since the two empires boarder each other. unknown at that moment, the Oceanic rulers proposed the same thing to the Mezalean rulers.

visits began between the two kingdoms and Joel found himself in love quickly enough - he loved Lizzie, he loved her little brother, he loved the Ocean Empire itself. but he kept his feelings to himself for fear of rejection, that is until he was about 16 when Lizzie came to him with talk of marriage - their parents had been discussing it but didn't want to force their children into it. he and Lizzie talked it over then went to their parents together and promised a future wedding, he also promised that Jimmy could be his best man.

life was peaceful, there were plenty of long visits between kingdoms, him and Jimmy often got into trouble - then the King of the Ocean Empire was killed. Joel tried to be there for her but found travel between kingdoms difficult due to the ongoing storms surrounding the Ocean Empire, he still managed to write Lizzie and once was able to visit - though getting back was just as difficult as getting in.

then several months later the storms stopped and Lizzie wrote to him about her taking the throne - she had said the Queen returned to the sea, though, he didn't really understand what that meant. he returned to the Ocean Empire and was there for Lizzie's coronation. he started visiting regularly for a time and each visit seemed to last longer than the one before it - he was there so often that Jimmy suggested he just move in. he did, with both his parents' and Lizzie's permission.

two years after that, he asked Lizzie to marry him and she said yes. they had two ceremonies, a proper land-dweller one in Mezalea, and another smaller Oceanic ceremony. being King now to the Ocean Empire meant he was basically a trophy husband but he didn't mind, he was happy as long as he was at Lizzie's side. if there was a Gathering, he or Jimmy would go with her, though usually Jimmy stayed home to watch over the kingdom - but he made sure to bring him plenty of stories and food from the Gathering.

Joel received word from his parents that an illness had struck Mezalea and the King and Queen had caught it. he returned home immediately to help where he could, Lizzie often sent aid to him, as did the kingdom's ally Pixandria - he had hardly ever spoken to the Copper King but he was glad for the aid. his parents unfortunately didn't survive and he lost a good number of civilians to the illness. but it was cured, with the help of the Mother Tree and magic from the Crystal Cliffs, and he became King of Mezalea.

with the illness cured, visits started up again between Mezalea and the Ocean Empire, though there was a lot more time spent apart than together but he and Lizzie made it work. Jimmy sent messages and gifts between the couple, often getting some for himself, until of course Jimmy became of age and wanted to travel the world.

Joel and Lizzie saw Jimmy off - it never ceased to amaze him how his two best friends could turn into giant sea creatures that could wipe out a fleet of ships. they managed visits on their own and sometimes he got letters from Jimmy. the letters stopped for a time and Lizzie grew worried, worried enough that storms nearly threatened the kingdom - but then Jimmy finally wrote them again and things were okay, he was in a swamp settlement and the people were taking care of him.

he and Lizzie went out right away to see him and found him at home in the swamp amongst a bunch of fish-human hybrids. he watched as Lizzie lectured her brother then babied him, then helped set Jimmy up as the ruler of the swamp settlement - the Cod Empire. they left Jimmy sometime later but saw him again at the next Gathering.

Jimmy got on well enough with the other rulers, despite the cod head he wore, though Joel noticed some rulers picking on him. he helped Jimmy from time to time, just so his brother wouldn't be alone, but didn't worry too much since Lizzie wasn't worrying - she was extremely protective of Jimmy but if she wasn't stepping in, then there was no need to worry.

Joel had met many of the rulers when he was a child so he knew pretty much everyone there. the only ones he hadn't met before was Count fWhip of the Grimlands, Wizard Gem of the Crystal Cliffs, and King Joey of the Lost Empire. Gem was all right for a mage, he ended up becoming frenemies with fWhip due to the teasing of Jimmy, and Joey was just weird so he didn't really talk to him unless need be. he got to know Pix a bit more when Pix decided to ally himself with Lizzie and Jimmy, and he started calling the man "Copper Dad" since his main trade was copper.

Pixl

Pixl was found by a pair of miners in a cave beneath the sands and was taken back to a large desert village, nobody really knew where he had come from, only that he was gifted with visions of death - of those around him and of rulers of the kingdoms outside of the desert. the villagers thought him odd and a bad omen, at first anyway, because he always knew who would die next and would light a candle for them when they passed.

they accepted him after a time, once they realized that he wasn't actually the cause - he would preach to them about Lady Death sometimes and how she would care for their loved ones. everyone in the village had a hand in raising him, as well as raising other children which was their way - it takes a village to raise a child.

Pixl learned how to farm and mine and care for animals, and he learned to build. his first build, guided by his visions, was the Vigil - it stood tall in the center of the village and was home to 12 different colored candles - only two of which were lit - one for Elfking Scott of Rivendell and one for Queen Katherine of the Flower Fields. the rest remained untouched. these flames never went out and the villagers often questioned him about them - he told them that there will be 12 mighty rulers that would change the world, for better or worse he didn't know.

over the years, he continued building up the village, he watched over the Vigil as Prophet of Death, and started working with copper and trading it for other goods. the people began to go to him for help and looked up to him as a leader, they named him the Copper King - a new candle was lit for himself when he was crowned, something he hadn't known would happen.

he continued leading his people and made a few alliances with other kingdoms - with Queen Katherine and the King of Mezalea. there wasn't a lot of contact between the kingdoms other than the Gathering, of which, he never failed to go to. over the years, he watched rulers age and die and watched their heirs take over. it took a long time for him to meet the children who would one day have their candles lit.

the next candle to be lit was for Pearl of Smallholding, though, he didn't know who she was at the time, he didn't even meet her until many years later. the next few happen fairly quickly - Queen Lizzie of the Ocean Empire, King Joel of Mezalea, and a couple years later Dwarf King Sausage of Mythland - these three he had watch grow up through the Gatherings. shortly after Mythland, Wizard Gem took over as the ruler of the Crystal Cliffs - he had known the previous Wizard and through them, knew of their protégé. a year after Gem was her twin brother, Count fWhip of the Grimlands - a new kingdom that managed to rise up from its own sort of desert. a few years later was King Joey of the Lost Empire and Codfather Jimmy of the Cod Empire - Joey's kingdom had once been named Maztec but had been in hiding for so long that it lost its name. due to his alliance with Joel, Pix decided it best to ally himself with Lizzie and Jimmy as well, somewhat through association but mostly because he liked them.

one candle remains unlit and no matter how much Pixl prays, the answers as to why remain a mystery. he still watches over the Vigil and keeps a count of each rulers' deaths - for some reason, the 11 rulers are allowed to revive themselves every time they die. he finds this odd as well, and a bit concerning.

[whatifxwereyou]

Ashes Chapter 15: Same Old Story

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Pairing: Liu Kang x Reader

Summary: Some history for Y/N and some brotherly love from Cole.

A/N: when you so busy writing smut that you forget to update the story so you can get to the smut lmao. enjoy, fellow nerds.

First Chapter << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

You were uncomfortable talking about personal things, particularly your history, but Cole deserved answers and he was a patient listener. Being a father, you weren’t really surprised by that. “When I was a kid, like… nine I want to say? Honestly my childhood is pretty blurry. Feels like another life.” You cleared your throat. “Anyway, yeah, around then I fell ill. I had these… fits, for lack of a better word. I didn’t understand what they meant at the time because I was well, nine. No one else understood them either. As an adult I know that I was experiencing prophetic visions. Honestly, they weren’t really prophetic then, I guess. That’s a word Raiden uses a lot for them. Back then they were rarely of future events. It was more like gaining deep insight into the lives of others. I could touch someone or something that someone else had touched and I would disappear. I’d see a glimpse of their history or their present. I was too young to interpret it.”

“Like touch telepathy? I’ve seen television shows about that concept. This stuff is hard for me to wrap my mind around. Too much like fiction.”

“I suppose that’s a good thing to call it. When I saw things, I would also black out. And have a fit. Like a seizure, I suppose. And when that was happening, I would often say things about what I was seeing or hurt myself. It frightened people. My parents took me out of town and I stayed with my grandmother. I was homeschooled after that. My parents saw it as an embarrassment if I recall.” You laughed at the idea of that now. That life was so far behind you that it didn’t matter how stressful it had been. Back then it had felt like the end of the world but as an adult, it was a distant memory. Those experiences had made you different and strange but they had also made you unique and special. You had embraced the things that had separated you from normality since then.

“Well, that’s awful.”

“Oh, no, no pity. It’s fine, really. That was world’s ago.” You waved off his disapproval of a parent being embarrassed by their child for things they couldn’t control. Cole really was a good guy. “I stopped having the visions at around twelve and while I was weak from being so sick, I fought to be normal afterward. My dad ran a dojo and so I grew strong again. I focused on martial arts. It was something that helped me find strength and determination back then.” You smiled at the memory. You’d always had a fondness for it in your heart. That was one of the first things you and Kung Lao had bonded over. Your father had taught Wing Chun and that was what Kung Lao specialized in. “With time my father could no longer teach at the dojo so he moved in with my older sister. I took over the dojo and then opened a shop in the old storage space to make extra money. I had every intention of moving away. I would never be more than a weirdo or a witch there. It was too small a town.”

“Did you ever get to?”

“I mean, I’m here now. That’s a long story though. I’m trying to keep this brief.” You chuckled. “We can talk about that stuff another day.” That was a more casual and personal conversation. This was personal but definitely not casual. If you didn’t have to share these parts of your life then you never would have. Much of it was still too raw. But Cole Young was curious about your past and you were curious about his. It was nice having another friend who wasn’t Liu Kang. You really did get along with him and his family.

“Fair enough.”

“About five years ago I was still doing the same. There had been a robbery across the street and the thugs came into my shop afterward. And, well, I’m not the type to roll over and be robbed.”

“I’d say not.”

“It escalated. There was a man who came in to pick up herbs I had imported for him every month who came in after. He ended up helping me out. Unfortunately, or fortunately depending on how you look at it, I killed one of those would-be robbers. He’d been trying to kill me so… I have come to terms with that. That’s how I got the dragon mark.” You pointed to your back. Yours was on your lower back on your left side. “The man who helped me was Liu Kang. I knew him then and he was kind enough to help me deal with the fallout at the time. It took ages for him to convince me to that there was any truth to any of this… Mortal Kombat and arcana nonsense. It’s kind of embarrassing looking back at it.” And the story was far more complicated too. You’d been attracted to Liu Kang from very early on. “I guess that’s why I’m so patient with Johnny. It’s easy for us to know what’s the truth but when you spend your whole life believing that fairytales are made with computers and science? It’s difficult to believe anything else.”

“Yeah, I get that. Not everyone had Sub Zero rushing them into the truth.” He joked. That was true enough. But Johnny Cage had had his come-to-jesus moment that afternoon you were pretty sure. You hadn’t had a moment like that in the beginning. Just Liu Kang’s word and his arcana.

“Liu showed me his arcana but I thought it was a trick. He was very persistent at the time. Tried to talk me into leaving everything I had ever known for what I thought was a trick. I was scared, I’m not too proud to admit that. The part of me that wanted to leave home and never look back had grown smaller over the years. I’d become complacent. I’d grown comfortable being known as a witch and honestly, the next generation of people in town hadn’t treated me so terribly. The kids even thought it was funny that everyone thought I was a witch. But then… I found my arcana.”

“The ink?”

“Yeah, it’s pretty and under control now but in the beginning, it was a nightmare. The first time I used it had been on accident. I nearly destroyed my store. Then I fell and had a fit and I was suddenly seeing things again. Those things I saw didn’t make any sense. None of it. I saw flashes of people and places I didn’t recognize. The best way that I can describe it is… nonsense. It didn’t mean anything.” You sighed heavily. Those moments had been terrifying. “The second time had been even worse. If Liu hadn’t been basically stalking me then someone would have gotten seriously hurt. I’d hurt him but he’d been tough enough to handle it. I felt terrible about it. By then I’d more than grown fond of him.” You didn’t want to get into the details but it hadn’t exactly been difficult to fall into Liu Kang’s arms and it hadn’t taken very long either.

“There’s a lot of history there, huh?”

“Yes. Focus.” You wanted to get this story over as quickly as you could. “After that I decided to go with him. It wasn’t worth the risk of hurting people in town with something I didn’t understand. I didn���t want to leave but I was glad that I did afterward. Raiden’s Temple was where I had needed to be for what came next. It was awful at first. The ink and the visions made me sick. I had little to no control over any of it. Raiden helped me. He could unravel what I saw even if it was just spaghetti to me. My visions helped him. At least he said that they did. Liu helped me get control over my arcana. There I met Kung Lao and I was happy. About a year later the visions stopped altogether and I was stronger than I’d ever been.”

“And now you’re having them again? Out of nowhere?” Cole didn’t sound terribly concerned. He had handled all of this very well. It was nice not to be taken too seriously or looked at like you were about to fracture. You didn’t think the visions were out of nowhere. In fact, you thought that the visions were likely triggered by Kung Lao’s death. Trauma did funny things to people. The things that happened to you were a little funnier than most.

“I confess that I didn’t realize I was having them at first.” You shrugged. It was difficult to explain but it seemed as though, at some point, Cole had abandoned his disbelief and had embraced chaos. “They were more like nightmares. It was difficult to decipher what was guilt and grief and what wasn’t. It wasn’t until the other night on the roof that I even considered they were visions. Well, that and I feel terrible. I haven’t felt this terrible since the last time I had them.” You were a little embarrassed to admit that. If you’d been honest about what you were feeling from the beginning then maybe you could have done things differently. You just hated being weak. It was a hot button for you.

“And that was when you saw what happened this afternoon?”

“Kind of? I saw the beach and a wave of corpses coming for us. Does that count?” You tried to joke. Cole tilted his head as if to consider if it counted or not.

“It does at least explain why you were extra creepy this morning.”

“Implying that I’m always a little creepy.”

“The ink is a little creepy, I decided.”

“I guess that’s fair.”

“But you’re okay? This morning was wild.”

Did you not seem okay? You supposed that you were feeling out of it after seeing Kung Lao’s death. You definitely weren’t feeling yourself but you thought that you’d hidden it pretty well. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“You sound a little morose.” Cole looked to the door like he had somewhere else to be. He probably did. He had a family and all that. “I can’t say we know each other very well but whatever happened back there must have hit hard… and I mean… you were so different at the end of it.”

“I’m fine, Cole.” You reassured him with a forced smile. You were a little morose. That was a good word for what you were feeling. You wanted to sleep for the rest of the week until you had to go back to China.

“Ally, Emily, and I are going to go grab dinner. You’re welcome to join us. You could probably use some food.”

“No, no. Thank you but I think that I have encroached upon your family time enough this week.”

“We really don’t mind. You’re good company. Allison asked if you were joining us, even.”

“Really, Cole. I appreciate the offer but I’m not up to it. My social battery is completely drained.” You offered a weary smile. It was nice to be wanted. “I’m going to rest.”

“You’re just… so off. I feel bad leaving you alone.” Cole pulled his phone from his coat pocket. “I’m considering asking if Ally wants to grab food and then bring Emily here to watch a movie with you.”

“It’s okay, Cole. I need the time alone, I think. Besides, I’m allowed to be a little under the weather after that.” You smiled even so. You didn’t want him to pity you. You didn’t need that. You really would be okay. That morning had been difficult but you weren’t prepared to say the real reasons why. You were a mixture of angry and hurt but you’d trudge through it.

“Yeah…”

“Hey, look, you don’t need to feel responsible for me just because of what happened with Kung Lao.” You would happily absolve him of any guilt he felt in that regards. He was guilty of nothing but being a good man.

“What?” Cole was genuinely surprised and you internally winced at how you’d miscalculated. You’d read the whole situation wrong and instantly regretted your words.

“I thought you might be feeling some misplaced guilt about it. I don’t want that for you.”

“Oh. Maybe that was why I approached you on the street that day but I think we’re past that. We’re friends now. Am I wrong about that?”

“Not at all. It’s been lovely getting to know you and your family. I really mean that, I’m not just saying it. You’ve managed to get me a little out of my head which is nice. And you like my jokes which I appreciate. I’m sorry about the way that came off. I wasn’t trying to diminish our friendship. I just didn’t want you to carry around that guilt, either.”

“That goes for you too.”

“It’s been a hard day. I’m not coming across the way that I mean to. Let’s say lost in translation.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. Your English is pretty good so I’m not sure that excuse works, but I’ll let it slide.”

“I know, I know… I’m being cold without meaning to. Like you said, I’m a little morose right now. I do this thing when my feelings are difficult to process where I kind of shut off and… I can come off as cruel without meaning to. Honestly, even in Chinese it doesn’t sound much better.” You couldn’t help but laugh at yourself. “I’m sorry.”

“No need. Today was a reality check. It scared me too. And you’re clearly going through something. I wanted to help, is all. Sometimes when I get too far into my head things snowball and become an avalanche.”

“I appreciate that.” You kicked your shoes off next to the bed and laughed. You had no plans of going anywhere else for the rest of the day. “I used to have Kung Lao to keep that from happening. I appreciate you trying to help but you can go get food with your family and enjoy your afternoon. I’m exhausted. I’ll probably nap or meditate on what happened today.” What you really meant was that you would do whatever it took to get it out of your head. You were going to try and forget the awful things you’d seen today. You weren’t sure you could forget it. His death was burned into your mind’s eye. It would haunt you for the rest of your life.

“I will but before I go, I wanted to talk to you quickly about Liu.”

“I would very much prefer if you didn’t.” You scrunched up your face in distaste.

“I know that I’ve been teasing you about it.” He laughed and you rolled your eyes. “But is everything okay with that? I know, I know… it’s not my business, you’ve said it a dozen times now. It’s clearly complicated. You don’t owe me any details but if you need help with it then say the word. I’m happy to help.” Was Cole Young offering to be your wingman? Or was he offering to beat up Liu Kang? Either scenario was kind of hilarious.

“I’m obviously defensive about it. I’m sure that it’s hilarious from the outside looking in but Liu and I have more history than I care to explain. I’m not ready to get into it with anyone. Not you and definitely not with Liu, either.”

“But that’s okay?”

“Yeah, it will be. I’m a pretty tough lady.”

“On a scale of one to ten just how supportive do you need me to be?”

“No scale. Just be yourself, Cole. You’re doing fine.”

“Even teasing you?”

“I’ve had worse teasing, trust me. I dated Kung Lao for years. Besides, it kind of lessens the frustration of it. Sometimes I get too serious and scary in my head. The joking grounds me a little.”

“Good to know.” Cole patted you on the back. It was nice having a friend to talk to. A friend that wasn’t Liu Kang. Not that you didn’t enjoy Liu Kang, things were just too complex between you right now. There was so much hurt and grief that you weren’t sure how things would pan out or if they would ever be fixable. And Cole was a good man. You enjoyed talking to Allison too and Emily had taken a shine to you. You hadn’t had the opportunity to be around kids in years and you were good with them at most ages. That was part of why you’d enjoyed running the dojo.

There was a knock at your door. You made to get up to answer it.

“I’ll get it. I’m on my way out anyway.” Cole stood and so you sat back down. You wouldn’t argue with him. Cole opened the door and there was Liu Kang, which was no surprise to you. You’d been expecting him to show up at some point. Who else would it have been, anyway? You were pretty sure that you’d rubbed Sonya and Jax the wrong way with all your talk of kidnapping. Cole stared Liu Kang down instead of greeting him and you tried not to laugh.

“Hello Cole.” Liu bowed his head politely in greeting. “I was hoping that I could speak with Y/N for a few minutes. Is she here? Did I come to the wrong room?” Liu peered around him and made eye contact with you. You offered him a curt wave.

“That’s up to her.”

You tried very hard not to laugh at the look of confusion on Liu’s face. He was bewildered.

“Of course it is.”

“You can come in, Liu.” You stopped that conversation before it got any weirder. Cole meant well, but wow.

“I was just leaving.” Cole clasped Liu on the shoulder as if to wish him good luck and then left, closing the door behind him after Liu had stepped past him. Liu watched the door close and then turned back to you. His expression was priceless. You’d have to thank Cole for that later.

Next Chapter >>

[thelastspeecher]

A New Inconvenience

Wrote some more for the Marriage of Convenience AU.  Enjoy.

—————————————————————————————— 

              Ford walked through the front door.  He smiled at the already familiar sight of Stan playing with Orion and Iris in the living room.

              “Hello, my dears,” he cooed, kneeling by his children. Orion and Iris promptly latched onto him, embracing him as tightly as their tiny arms could manage.  “Did you have a good day with Uncle Stan?”

              “Miss Dada,” Orion mumbled.  Ford kissed the top of his son’s head.

              “I missed you as well.”

              “Uncy Stan took good care of ‘em, don’t worry,” Stan said breezily.  Ford scowled at him.  “What?”

              “How many times must I tell you to stop using improper language?”

              “I didn’t swear!”

              “No, you just completely butchered a word.”

              “You act like me calling myself Uncy Stan is gonna permanently screw up the way they talk or something,” Stan scoffed.  Iris tugged on Ford’s shirt.  Glad for the distraction, Ford smiled at his daughter.

              “Yes, Iris?”

              “Mama sad.”

              “…Pardon?”

              “Oh, yeah,” Stan said, nodding.  “Angie came in a bit ago, looking pretty upset.” Ford’s blood ran cold.

              “She had a doctor appointment today,” he said quietly.  Stan’s eyes widened.

              “Shi- shoot.  Maybe she just hates the doc?”

              “No.  She’s very upbeat after doctor’s appointments.”  Ford rose to his feet.  “I’m going to speak with your mother, continue playing with Uncle Stan.” Orion and Iris looked disappointed, but toddled back to Stan.

              Ford strode quickly down the hall, past the twins’ nursery and the guest room Stan had officially moved into, until he arrived at the room he shared with Angie.  The door was ajar.  Ford slowly opened it.  Angie sat on their bed.  To his relief, she didn’t seem particularly distressed, the way he’d imagine she would if she got bad news from the doctor.  She looked more conflicted, as though she hadn’t decided her feelings.

              “Angie?” he said tentatively.  Angie looked up.  She managed a weak smile.

              “Stanford.”

              “Stan told me you seemed upset after your doctor’s appointment.”  Ford crossed over to the bed and sat next to his wife.  “Is everything all right?”

              “Depends on how you define it.”

              “Angie, please don’t beat around the bush.”

              “Remember what we were doin’ ‘fore Stan showed up?” Angie asked, ignoring Ford’s request.  “How we were plannin’ to add more to our fam’ly?”

              “Yes.  But we stopped after Stan arrived.”

              “Well.  It didn’t make much of a dif’rence.”

              “Oh.  Oh, no.” Ford’s heart sunk.  “No.  You’re-”

              “I’m pregnant.”

              “We were only trying for a week!”

              “That’s all it takes, sometimes.”  Angie was maddeningly calm, but then again, she wanted a big family.  Ford pushed back the reminder that, before Stan showed up, he had also wanted a third child, hoping that having another baby would improve his marriage like the twins had.  “All I can say is I hope it ain’t twins again.  I love Orion ‘n Iris, but carryin’ two babies at once is rough.”

              “How could this have happened?” Ford moaned, putting his head in his hands.

              “You know.  You were there.”

              “Why are you taking this so well?” Ford snapped. Angie crossed her legs, tilting her head thoughtfully.

              “Well, I figure, can’t do much ‘bout it now. Stressin’ will only make things more difficult on me and the baby.”

              Yes.  Stress was the source of some of her complications with the twins.  Ford closed his eyes, terror suddenly surging through him.  Angie’s first pregnancy had been difficult for them both.  It might make me a coward, but I don’t know if I can do that again.

              “Stanford?”  A hand was gently placed on Ford’s back.  “Talk to me.”

              “I…”  Ford stood up.  “I think I need to go for a walk and clear my head.”

              “All right.”  Angie continued to be infuriatingly level-headed.  “But durin’ this walk, please don’t grab one of yer cigarettes that ya think ya keep hidden so well from me.  I can barely tolerate that smoke smell when I’m not pregnant.”

              “I recall.”  Ford frowned at her.  “You knew I picked up smoking again?”

              “Oh, darlin’, yer not nearly as sneaky as ya think ya are,” Angie said with a smile.  Ford managed a small smile of his own.  He leaned over to kiss Angie on the cheek.

              “I’ll be back shortly.  And I won’t smell of cigarette smoke.”

              “Thank you, dear.”  Ford left the bedroom and headed for the front door.  Before he could leave the house, however, Stan, still supervising the children in the living room, spoke up.

              “What’s going on, Sixer?”

              “Oh.  Well…” Ford looked over at his twin. Stan was uncharacteristically nervous.

              But then again, he’s quite fond of Angie.  Who wouldn’t be?

              “Angie’s fine.  She just got some unexpected news.  I’m going to go on a walk.  I’ll be back in about ten minutes.”

              “Oh.  Okay. Uh, have a good walk, I guess.”

              “I’ll do my best.”  Ford walked outside, down the front steps, and began to make his way down the street.  He hadn’t even gotten a block away, however, when there was a shout behind him.

              “Hey, Ford, wait up!”  Ford looked over his shoulder.  Stan had left the house as well and was jogging to catch up with him. “Figured you could use a walking buddy,” Stan said once he was by Ford’s side.

              “The children-”

              “Angie said she was gonna watch ‘em.”  Stan cocked his head curiously.  “You seem pretty high-strung right now.  What’s going on?”

              “I…”  Ford sighed. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and began to walk again.  Stan began to walk as well.  “Angie’s pregnant.”

              “Oh.”  Stan blinked. “Okay.  Not what I was expecting.  But why are you in the same boat as me?  I thought you said that the only reason you and Angie knock boots is to have kids.”

              “You showed up, resulting in us ceasing our…conception attempts after only a week.”

              “Ford, it only takes one time.”

              “I know!” Ford burst out.

              “Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Stan said soothingly. He put his arm around Ford’s shoulders. “Do you not want another kid?”

              “I honestly don’t know, Stanley.”

              “You clearly wanted one at some point.”

              “I…”  Ford’s head drooped.  “I didn’t. Not really.”

              “Then why the hell were you trying to have one?”

              “…I don’t want to tell you.”

              “C’mon.  I’m not gonna judge you.  You have the authority to kick me outta your guest room.”

              “I thought it would benefit my marriage,” Ford mumbled.  Stan came to a sudden stop, staring at Ford.  Ford stopped as well.  “What?”

              “You- you wanted to have another kid because your marriage was on the rocks?” Stan whispered.

              “Well, to be fair, the conclusion was rooted in evidence.  Angie and I struggled a lot our first year of marriage, but when Orion and Iris were born, our relationship became much better.”  Ford shrugged.  “Recently, we started arguing over minor matters, becoming frustrated, even sleeping in separate beds.  I merely decided to revisit a potential solution that I knew worked.”

              “Stanford, you decided to have a baby just to save your relationship.  That’s- that’s fucked up.”

              “What happened to not judging me?”

              “I said that ‘cause I didn’t think you’d do something so damn stupid!  You wanted to make another human being.  Because you were fighting with your wife.”

              “What’s done is done, Stanley,” Ford snapped.  “I can’t reverse it.”  He could feel hot shame pulsing through his body.  Until Stan had pointed it out, he hadn’t considered how careless the decision to have another child was.

              He’s right.

              “I mean…”  Stan rubbed the back of his neck.  He looked away awkwardly.  “It’s early enough that if you want, you could reverse the baby.”

              “You- you mean Angie terminating the pregnancy.”

              “…Yeah.”

              “Even if I wanted to do that, which I don’t, Angie never would.  She’s not against others doing that, but she personally won’t.”  The issue had come up when Angie was pregnant with Orion and Iris. The doctor voiced some concern over Angie’s low weight and nutrient levels, and suggested they reduce the twins to a singleton.  Ford had to stop Angie from slapping the doctor.

              “Fine.  What about adoption?” Stan suggested.  “I bet there are a lot of people out there who would love to have a smart, cute kid. I know I would.”

              “Give up my child?”  Ford thought back to the day that Orion and Iris were born.  The surge of love and happiness at seeing their extra fingers and toes.  How thrilled he’d been to see the distinctive birthmark on Orion’s back that resulted in his name.  Running his fingers through Iris’s bright red hair for the first time.

              If I gave up my child, I’d give that up, too. Like a prophetic vision, images came to Ford’s mind.  A newborn girl with Angie’s nose and his eyes, wispy brown hair, and a laugh that could melt the stoniest of hearts.  Tears sprang to Ford’s eyes.  I can’t even stand the idea of missing out on my third child’s life. When the day comes, I’d never be able to place her or him for adoption.

              “No,” Ford said finally.  He shook his head.  “No, I can’t do that.”

              “Sounds like you made up your mind, then,” Stan said.

              “Heh.”  Ford managed a small smile.  “I suppose I did.”  He looked at Stan.  “Thank you, Stanley.”

              “Hey, I’m here to help you and Angie out,” Stan said with a shrug.  “This is just part of that.”  He grinned. “And if I get a new niece or nephew outta this, I’m not gonna complain.”

              “Even though, as the live-in nanny, you’ll be responsible for her or his care once Angie and I run out of parental leave.”

              “Eh, I can handle it,” Stan said confidently. Ford raised an eyebrow.

              “Newborns are very different from toddlers, you know.”

              “Angie can show me the ropes before I ever get left alone with the kid.”  Ford bristled instinctively.

              “Angie and I split responsibilities evenly. Just because she’s a woman, I won’t be saddling her with the majority of childcare.”

              “Whoa, I didn’t mean it like that!” Stan said, holding his hands up in defeat.  “I just- Angie’s- Angie’s pretty great.  And- and maternity leave is longer than paternity leave anyways, right?  She’ll probably be spending more time at home than you.”

              “Yes, she will have more time off than I,” Ford confirmed.  Stan nodded.

              “Yeah, that’s what I was getting at.”  Stan cleared his throat.  “Anyways, uh, we should probably get back.  Orion and Iris get fussy around this time.”  Ford nodded.

              “That sounds like a good idea.”  He and Stan turned around and began to walk back home. “Angie and I will have to come up with some names.”

              “Easy.  Stanley.”

              “What if it’s a girl?” Ford asked, genuinely concerned about what Stan would say.  The answer was immediate.

              “Staniella.”

              “And you claim Orion is bad.”

[samedmunds]

My litany thoughts on 1999 cult classic strategy video game Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri

Alpha Centauri is a game of the early Civilization variety from the EA golden age and ranks very highly in my top ten. While you probably heard of it if you were playing video games around the turn of the century, I've found members of my age cohort to be tragically unfamiliar with this masterpiece.

Alpha Centauri is an unofficial sequel to Civilization II, a game where the only way to way to win is either completely eliminate all competitors to the last city or, rather more easily, send a spaceship loaded with colonists to the title star system. Shortly after leaving home, the ship loses contact with Earth, which would make sense to a player of Civilization II where the bonuses to science and trade from democracies evaporate when technology ends, upon which point all the AIs revolt and become militant fundamentalist theocracies and climate change rapidly destroys the planet, leaving the player with an endgame that is literally 1984. Either way, when the already strained ship arrives at the Alpha Centauri system an unknown partisan assassinates the captain of the UNS Unity and the population fractures into seven opposing factions before firing the colony pods and exploring an inconveniently hostile planet.

The player starts here, in typical Civ fashion: a scout, settler, and absolutely no technology to speak of. That isn't to say you are a bunch of primitives, all your units start out with some approximation to modern guns and judging by the amazing quotes and wonder videos your society is well beyond the 21st century--more on the story later. The gameplay is incredibly well-balanced in spite of its age and quirks (with the exception of the freight-train progression of Yang). Rapid early expansion as the bountiful Peacekeepers may leave you at serious risk to the relentlessly martial Spartans, who are in turn threatened by the uber-specialized technocratic University--but be careful to underestimate the backwards Lord's Believers, their probe teams will just as quickly rob you of your gains. The Morganites can afford to sparsely defend their home if they're willing to pay off their aggressors, but they'll struggle expand over great swaths of territory without irking civil unrest drone riots from corruption. Meanwhile the Gaian Acolytes can harness the permanently-dangerous mindworms to great effect from the beginning of the game. Yang just... builds. And keeps building, and next thing you know he's conquered the Peacekeepers and turned Miriam into nothing more than a puppet and where are all these cruise missiles are coming from?

In short, the strategic design of this game is nothing less than a work of art, but that isn't to say it doesn't have its anachronisms. The User Interface has taken its inspiration from early versions of Microsoft Word and it rapidly pays off to know the hotkeys. The wonder videos are resolution locked and can sometimes cause problems depending on your display configuration. The unit creation system is simultaneously wonderful and horrendous. It allows me to create special long-range nerve gas bombers that eradicate cities shortly before orbitally-dropping specially-trained garrisons to quash all resistance. On the other hand, if you do not accept the cumbersome slew of computer-generated options, keeping your new weapons systems up to date with your latest technology (especially when playing as Zakharov) rapidly becomes a chore.

That said, there are a variety of features in the game that I think deserve to make a reappearance in the Civ Games. The pick-your-government system is incredibly balanced and fun to roleplay. You can't get away with crimes against humanity when solar storms hit in Civilization VI, nor can you weaponise climate change to flood your rivals cities, or strategically terraform to alter weather patterns and deny your neighbors arable land. At the bare minimum, we should be given the option to nerve staple rebelling cities when our control runs out!

All that said, there is also the story to contend with. One is at first tempted to think that a 4x strategy game with a marked emphasis on replayability would necessarily have a tacked-on story, if one at all. After all, the point is for the player to create it through their actions, not have it spoonfed to them. The majority of what you learn about your world that isn't printed in numbers and small pictures on the mapscreen is through blurbs that accompany each discovered technology or new building. The aforementioned wonders even have their adorable early-CG renderings, sometimes mixed in with some experimental film footage. There are occasional interludes that describe the mindworms and machinations of Planet, but the bulk of the wordage comes from epigrams of the faction leaders and the occasional bit of Nietzsche or Plato. It's so good that I can't help but stop and listen to CEO Nbwadibuke Morgan ramble on about supply chain economics or Sister Miriam's apocalyptic warnings every single time. Take some examples.

Proper care and education for our children remains a cornerstone of our entire colonization effort. Children not only shape our future; they determine in many ways our present. Men and women work harder knowing their children are safe and close at hand, and never forget that, with children present, parents will defend their home to the death!

--Col. Corazon Santiago, "Planet: A Survivalist's Guide"

Or perhaps, a more on the nose one:

"The Academician's private residences shall remain off-limits to the Genetic Inspectors. We possess no retroviral capability, we are not researching retroviral engineering, and we shall not allow this Council to violate faction privileges in the name of this ridiculous witch hunt!

--Fedor Petrov, Vice Provost for University Affairs Accompanies the Retroviral Engineering technology

The game often doesn't directly tell you what Retroviral engineering is, nor does it labor to explain just what having someone nerve stapled means, or the precise function of the Recycling Tanks, but through its quotation it beautifully circumlocutes the world you are shaping--and being shaped by. It really never pulls any of its punches, even if its just on Organic Superlube--great stuff--and I still catch muself quoting it regularly.

Ursula LeGuin once wrote

"Science fiction is often described, and even defined, as extrapolative. The science fiction writer is supposed to take a trend or phenomenon of the here-and-now, purify and intensify it for dramatic effect, and extend it into the future. 'If this goes on, this is what will happen.' [...] This may explain why many people who read science fiction describe it as 'escapist,' but when questioned further, admit they do not read it because 'it's so depressing.'"

Alpha Centauri is absolutely extrapolative fiction and very firmly rooted in the 1990s and I love it. It was released in the Aaron Sorkin TV, pre-9/11 days where the word Internet was more often than not followed by the words, "is like an information superhighway" and it absolutely no efforts are made to cover it up. The main factions are a cross-section of the New Millenium's hopes and anxieties. A New Russia that went a very different path before Putin took over, a cheerful clan of ruthless Western capitalists hellbent on putting Morganvision on every network set, a group of vaguely Scottish free-love peaceniks hellbent on defending the most-of-the-time incredibly hostile environment. There's the Second-Amendment preaching Spartans or the optimistically-influential UN which, judging by its naming scheme for its bases, seems to dedicate entire cities to bureaucratic agencies. The All-American Christian fundamentalists don't entirely butt heads with the frighteningly powerful Human-Hive (if your country calls their cities names like "Huddling of the People" and "Paradise Swarming" you might not be the good guys). The expansion also brings in more dynamic characters like the Information Wants to be Free! data angels Brian Reynolds very clearly came up with after watching Swordfish and Hackers back to back or the Nautilus Pirates who have no right to be as fun as they are.

The visions of the future are at once both anachronistic and prophetic; while elements may come off as cheese, I see it as a sort of window to the past, a way to examine what was once (and sometimes still is) on our mind. All in all, I give Sid Meier's Alpha Centauri 4 out of 5 stars and a definite all-time favorite, warts and all. You can pick it and its expansion up for $6 on Gog.com and play it through a built-in emulator that works for most systems. If you're willing to brave a dated interface and an older-fashioned gameplay style, I would definitely recommend it.

[damonsvftie]

𝒜𝓁𝓌𝒶𝓎𝓈 𝒷𝑒𝑒𝓃 𝓎𝑜𝓊

Draco Malfoy x reader

MASTERLIST☁️

Warnings: self doubt and I think that’s pretty much it

Note: this is 3.7k+ words. Also if you have any feedback let me know as I’m always trying to improve!¡ also h/n means house name also ngl im kinda proud of this 🖐😌✨

Summary: Draco unexpectedly breaks up with y/n and moves on with his life and now dates Astoria Greengrass but y/n still wants an explanation to why he suddenly dumped her leaving her heart broken but do things ever go back to what they were?

He was slipping out of my hands. I was losing him. I was losing myself. I was losing everything I had ever wanted.

My love for a certain platinum blonde haired boy was unconditional. His voice was delicate and soothing and was certainly music to my ears. His touch made me melt into his beautiful pale and creamy skin while he would caress me tightly but all of it was gone. Everything I had ever wished for was crumbling before me.

Draco Malfoy was no longer with me. After all we had been through it felt like nothing was no longer worth it and it hurt me to see him walking through the corridors with Astoria Greengrass clutching onto him. She was always with him, clinging onto his arm, feeding him in the great hall and now she even had access to his dorm. He promised me no one else would take my spot but at this point I assumed it was all a lie.

—

“You know what? I’m not even mad he ended things with you because he doesn’t deserve you y/n,” mentioned Hermione while you looked across the great hall towards Draco who had Greengrass sat beside him giggling .Me and Hermione had become best friends since our arrival at Hogwarts and she had always stuck by me through thick and thin. Our friendship was an unbreakable bond and i had always shared my thoughts and feelings to her and trusted her more than anyone else.

“Surely I wasn’t deserving enough for him-,” you whispered softly as you played with the plate of ravioli in front of you,piercing thousands of holes into it every now and then.

—

When he left me, he gave no explanation for the sudden breakup. Everything just shattered and I had remembered pleading him while tugging on his arm for clarification while drops of tears streamed down my face. He couldn’t face me, he couldn’t even muster the courage to look into my eyes and tell me he no longer loved me. He harshly moved away from my grasp and walked away leaving me all alone at the top of the astronomy tower. What seemed to hurt me the most was how he confessed his love for me after the Yule ball had ended and now he had dumped me in the same exact spot . Was I not good enough for him? Was he deserving of someone else? I wanted him badly to come running back to me telling me it was a joke of some sort. I wanted to wake up and pretend everything that had happened was just a nightmare but it was real. He was really gone.

—

The next day after lunch I made my way to my favourite tree. I would normally

sit by it and read the muggle stories I owned or just catch up on some work. I held precious memories here. I remember the first time me and Draco actually spoke to one another it was under the same exact tree only except after a few days I would read him stories like Alice in Wonderland or Jekyll and Hyde which he would thoroughly enjoy by sitting in one of the trees branches while munching onto an apple listening to the words that would come out of my mouth. He never really understood my thirst for reading muggle books. When I had first read them to him he was acting as if it was some sort of crime but once the stories got into depth he eased a bit and understood why I adored reading and it was all because I could get lost into my own imagination.

When I had reached the tree I couldn’t seem to believe my eyes. Under the tree laid Astoria’s head on Draco’s lap as he hesitantly stroked her hair almost looking a bit uncomfortable. I felt my eyes starting to well up and my vision instantly turned blurry. A pain in my chest made it seem as if my heart had been torn into millions of pieces. I stood there slightly trembling and took a step back. To my surprise my foot crunched under a pile of twigs and branches disturbing the two as Draco and his girlfriend looked up at me. He pushed Greengrass of him and scrambled up as if he were about to say something but Astoria tugged on his arm while glaring at me darkly and I decided to run back to my dorm. He really had replaced me.

—

“You should talk to him,” explained Hermione.I had told her everything from the way he made me feel and how uneasy I would feel whenever Astoria would be beside him. “If I’m being honest he really did downgrade,” added Ron while he took a bite out of his sandwich.

“I-i can’t, I just know he’ll try to avoid me,” i mumbled.

“You really think that? Weren’t you the one who said that he pushed Greengrass off him when he saw you?” Mentioned Harry sarcastically as he put the daily prophet down.

“But that doesn’t mean he wants to talk to me, I bet he doesn’t even care about my existence,” I groaned while i glanced at all three of them while Harry had a smug expression painted across his face.”let’s test that theory shall we?” .You knew he had some type of plan.

__

“Malfoy, theres a letter that’s addressed to you,” spoke Crabbe as he took the letter between the beautiful white owl’s beak. Draco snatched the letter out of his hand and opened it:

Malfoy,

Meet me at the astronomy tower tonight at 12. This is extremely important, it’s about y/l/n. Her life is in danger.

Harry,

Draco read the letter, while his thoughts circled his head.His two minions, Crabbe and Goyle, tried peering over him to take a look at what was written.His heart started beating at a quicker pace and he was worried sick about you.He hastily shoved the letter back into it’s envelope.”What does it say Malfoy?” Asked Goyle curiously.

“It’s none of your business,” he snapped back.He didn’t want to put you into any type of danger because he still cared. He couldn’t bear seeing you hurt because he still loved you. However not everything was what it seemed.

—

“Harry I don’t want to start any trouble-,” I muttered before getting cut off.

“Come on y/n, tonight we’ll find out if he’s still in love with you,” interrupted Ron.

Hermione placed her hand on mine, almost as if she was trying to reassure me that everything would be okay. Harry’s owl came swooping through the gryffindor common rooms half open window as Hedwig plopped himself onto his owners shoulder while Harry stroked its feathers.

“He’s got the letter, now we just have to see if he turns up,” explained Harry as he looked at me flashing me a confident smile. I returned one back but something inside me made my stomach churn. What if Draco didn’t turn up. What if he didn’t really care about me and what if he was happy with Astoria. I had so many questions.

__

The clock striked twelve, and I cautiously made my way to the astronomy tower making sure no one saw me out of bed after curfew. I was still in my h/n uniform shivering as I had left my robe in the common room. Once I got there I gazed at the stars hoping that Draco would come. I still wanted him to care for me, to love me but as time ticked by I stood there reconsidering everything. I had made a fool out of myself by showing up, I should have known better. He had moved on and I should have too. I was about to leave when I heard a familiar voice. “What are you doing here?” Questioned Draco. I had turned around to see him although he was a few metres away from me. I couldn’t quite make out his expressions. “I thought I was here to meet Potter not you,” he snarled. If I was being honest his words cut me deep leaving a wound that wouldn’t ever be healed. He really seemed as if he didn’t want to see me but I still had hope.

He turned around and almost started walking away but I had stopped him. “ if you didn’t care about me you wouldn’t have showed up,” my voice slightly broke towards the end. Ever so slowly I had made my way towards him hesitantly placing my hand on his shoulder. He glanced back at me not fully turning but his expression seemed to ease down a bit. “ Draco, I know it was wrong but I just wanted to talk-,” I felt my eyes tearing up but I quickly wiped them away.

“There’s nothing to talk about,” he answered back.

“Yes there is, why did you dump me? Do you realise how much it hurts to see you and Greengrass in the hallways! do you realise what you put me thr-,” I started to raise my voice while I vented at him before he cut me off.

“What I put you through?! I had no choice y/n. Don’t you think it didn’t hurt me when I left you?!” He had never spoken to me like that before.

“I just want my answers Draco, why? Why did you do this? Why did you end ‘us’?,” I whispered as I tried fighting back my tears but I couldn’t. He turned around now facing me completely. He seemed nervous as if he didn’t know how to break the news to me but he knew he had to, he knew he couldn’t keep me in the dark like that.

“Because... because I’m marrying Astoria,”

I covered my mouth with my hand trying to muffle my cries that tried to escape, stumbling backwards from him. He had never seen me so devastated and it really showed. I could tell he wanted to comfort me but he couldn’t. It would have been wrong.

My sobs started to get worse and Draco had noticed. “Y/n I need you to calm down.. please,”. The tone in his voice was soft like butter and I couldn’t help but listen to him. Hesitantly I pulled him in for a tight hug I could tell from his body language that he didn’t expect me to do that. He didn’t hug me back although it felt like his hand was hovering against my back almost as if he wanted to but couldn’t. I pulled away from him patting my tears dry while I shivered in the cold. I could have sworn that the tension in the air could have been cut with a knife. The next thing I knew, Draco took of his slytherin robe and covered me with it to stop me from shaking. “ I thought maybe you would need it,” he stammered. I crossed my arms looking down at the ground.

“Why are you marrying her?” I questioned while I furrowed my brows together.

“It isn’t my choice y/n, my father wants me to marry her because she’s a pureblood,” he responded while he looked at you with blurry eyes. You knew that his parents wouldn’t have ever approved of you, well mostly Lucius. He had despised you since the day you walked into the Malfoy Manor after finding out you were a mudblood.

“You should have told me, we could have worked this out, we could have done som-,”

“THERES NOTHING WE CAN DO ABOUT IT!” He sneered as he quickly scuttled away leaving me alone at the top of the tower.

__

The winter break was here and you were returning home for the holidays.

Every night since my return at home i couldn’t help but think about him. I started to become restless and i wished for the holidays to come to an end quickly so that I could see him again but what was the point? He was happy with Astoria and I would eventually move on from him sooner or later but I still had faith.

__

When the Winter breaks had ended we were returned back to Hogwarts.

I remember when I had reached my dorm I started unpacking all my luggage when I found Draco’s robe inside my suitcase. I clutched onto it tightly while running my hand over the soft fabric inhaling his sweet scent that consisted of citrus and mint. Everything felt wrong. I had to give his robe back to him although he would have bought a new one but I still had to. I no longer meant anything to him.

—

The first class of the new semester was defense against the dark arts which was taught by Umbridge. Everyone seemed to loathe her apart from a bunch of kids who became a part of her clan. Unsuprisingly Malfoy was one of them.

I couldn’t help but stare across the room at him. He was just so beautiful. His prominent, sharp jawline could have easily cut whoever’s fingers glided across it and his magnificent blonde hair had grown a tiny bit compared to last year. I had sat there just admiring him from a distance when he seemed to notice when he had turned around to talk to Goyle. Our eyes had met until I pulled away quickly. I couldn’t do that to him since everything was over but I still yearned for him.

—

“I’m so sorry y/n, we didn’t expect Malfoy to react like that,” explained Hermione when you had told the trio everything that had happened before the winter break.

“I can’t believe he’s marrying her, out of all people he chooses Greengrass,” muttered Ron while he took a sip out of his cup.

“It’s not his choice Ron,” I mumbled under my breath just loud enough for him to hear .

“Are you going to give him his robe back?” Questioned Harry while he glanced at me with a weak smile.

“I suppose so, it doesn’t belong to me anymore,” I sighed while letting a shaky breathe out.

I could see from across the great hall, that he was staring at me until I had noticed. He quickly shifted his attention to Astoria while she rested her head on his shoulder. She was starting to infuriate me.

—

We were going to Hogsmeade today and unfortunately Harry couldn’t come because he couldn’t get permission to go on the trip or I could have hung out with him there. “Harry I’ll get you something from there,” I mentioned kindly with a small smile across my face. He simply nodded with a small smile and then left.

I thought it would be best if I left Ron and Hermione alone since I didn’t want to be the 3rd wheel besides I wanted to explore Hogsmeade alone and get all the heavy feelings of my chest and for once be carefree.

Once I had finished exploring all of Hogsmeade I decided to go to Honydukes to buy some candy for Harry since I knew he absolutely loved lemon Sherbets and well I had promised him I would bring him something back.

I went into the shop searching around for lemon sherbets and looking at the different types of candies in the glass jars until I saw Draco. Obviously he was with Astoria. My heart did a quick jump in my chest and I just froze. “What is she doing here?” Groaned Astoria. Draco just stared at me and then looked towards the ground. I could feel my hands starting to become clammy and a few drops of tears spilled down my face. “I see you EVERYWHERE, don’t you realise that things have ended between you and Draco? He’s MINE not YOURS,” sneered Greengrass. I quickly sprinted my way out of the shop while Draco was going to run after me but she had pulled him back from doing so.

—

The next day in the great hall, I hid my head in my hands silently wheeping trying not to cause a commotion while Hermione rubbed my back in circles. “You should have stuck with us,” spoke Hermione while Ron nodded along agreeing with her.

“If i were there I-“ Harry started but got cut off when Hermione silently shook her head slowly, almost telling him to stop rambling on.”i-i need to go.. I’ll be back,” I stuttered.

I went to my dorm and grabbed Draco’s old robe and hurried back into the great hall. I was striding towards him furiously while everyones attention was drawn on me. The next thing I knew Astoria and him both looked at me astonished as I threw his robe in his face.”thought this belonged to you,” i whispered while my voice cracked and off I stormed back to my dorm.

I could hear everyone in the great hall talking about the commotion I had just caused while I ran through the corridoors.

—

The next day was a ordinary Monday, Draco had promised to meet Astoria at lunch and then they would supposedly spend some time together. Lunch was intimidating for me. The buzz about all the drama that had happened yesterday was still news to everyone. People gave me sly looks from across the hall and others were concerned or confused.

Draco would give me small glances then look away just in case I saw. In my heart I still felt as if he wanted me but I wasn’t so sure. It had been a long period of time and it felt as if the 2 were starting to become closer than ever.

—

After lunch Astoria and Draco were walking the hogwarts grounds. She practically forced him to drape his robe around her. Greengrass was very touchy and there were moments that made him uncomfortable and he would slightly move out of her grasp.

“I don’t understand why y/l/n always has to come between us,” she muttered. Draco stopped walking and looked her in the eye.

“I don’t understand why you hate her so much, what has she ever done to you?” He snarled. Certainly Astoria never expected Draco to ever defend you like that, after all what were you to him?

“Draco, what are you saying?” She questioned while her cheeks turned a tint of red in embarrassment. He took a few steps towards her until the gap between them closed. He seemed agitated while he clenched his fists tightly.

“I’ve never wanted to marry you,” he snapped. Astorias heart started beating rapidly at this point he was scaring her.”Its never been you, it’s always been her,” he sneered as he snatched his cloak away from her body leaving her shivering in the snow.

—

I was at the top of the astronomy tower, lunch had just finished but since it was still winter season the sky has turned dark in the evening. I looked up at the sky admiring the beautiful colours above. This was my favourite spot to relax. A place for me to escape all of my worries and concerns. Everything that had been happening felt like a nightmare that wouldn’t stop haunting me. If I was being honest I had wished that Draco would be beside me, vibing into the moment like we use to but all of that was gone. I started to shiver slightly as I was only in my uniform and I had again left my robe inside thinking that I would be in all day. Turns out I was wrong after all.

Suddenly someone covered me with their robe. It smelt familiar, like mint and citrus fruit and it’s aroma was sweet with a hint of bitterness. “Thought this belonged to you,” uttered the voice softly under its breath. I slowly turned around to face the person when I saw Draco stood behind me.

To my surprise he gave me tight hug lifting me off the ground since he’s way taller than I am. The hug was different. He didn’t seem to hesitate and it seemed confident like he thoroughly wanted to. He held me there almost cradling me until I slightly wriggled out of his grasp. “Malfoy What is wrong with y-,”. He immediately went in for a kiss. It wasn’t anything extra just a peck on the lips until I pulled away from him. “Draco we can’t do this,” I spoke while my cheeks blushed.

“why can’t we?,” he asked while he pulled me back moving me closer towards him. He was acting totally weird as if he suddenly forgot that he was going to be marrying Astoria. “I think you’ve forgot that your marrying Greengrass,” I sighed after letting a deep breathe out. He seemed to loosen his grip and that managed to create a one metre distance between the two of us. He scratched the back of his head while I crossed my arms trying to avoid eye contact.

“Yeah um.. about that, I don’t want to marry her,” he spoke.

“What do you mean?” I asked hastily.

“Look I know after all that we’ve been through it was wrong for me to leave you like that with any sort of explanation and i just want you to know I’m- im sorry. I don’t care what my father has to say about the two of us. it’s never been her... it’s always been you,” he confessed. I stared into his beautiful eyes and I could tell he really meant what he said. The same Draco Malfoy has apologised for everything he had done and he was even ready to fight against his own father. On my tiptoes I caressed his alluring face with both of my hands as I pulled him down a bit until our lips grazed against each other. The next thing I knew his lips were on mine while one of my hands found their way to his head, softly tugging on the bottom of his platinum blonde hair while his arm slithered across my waist pulling me closer to him till no space was left between us. Pulling away panting slightly I smiled widely. Everything had gone back to what it was and I couldn’t have been more elated. “It’s always been you,” he whispered.

[sidehugsnsideblogs]

FCSU #47 The Trial

AN: I'm sorry if the trial part sounds inaccurate, I have no idea how trials work, I haven't been part of one since my parent's custody battle like 28 years ago.

Penny was working on a late night project when she heard a knock on the door. She opened it to find Becca Dawn standing there in her townie clothes. "You're here" she cried, "come in, is there anything I can get you?" Becca opened her mouth to say she just wanted to lie down but as the stepped inside her vision tunneled and she collapsed. Penny turned round and tried to catch her but she fell forward the hit the ground.

"What is going on?" Penny asked as Becca Dawn regained consciousness. She confided to her sister that she might be pregnant and listed her symptoms, her stomach often felt like it was full of lava, and occasionally she vomited small amounts of blood. She was confused because her cycle hadn't even had a chance to be late. "That doesn't really sound like morning sickness to me. I'm making you a doctor's appointment for tomorrow. We're getting to the bottom of this."

Becca Dawn's first visit to a real doctor was daunting but went well overall. He ordered bloodwork and didn't make her take off her clothes like Royce said townie doctors did. "Well you aren't pregnant." He said coming back into the room with the results. He asked her questions about her diet and lifestyle. Becca Dawn tried to be honest without giving away that she was a child bride. He eventually came to the conclusion that she was suffering from an ulcer induced by stress and poor nutrition. He prescribed some medication to coat her stomach lining so she could heal. Penny cooked her healthy meals to ease her stomach. With time and a proper diet, Becca began to recover.

Though her physical trauma healed she still bore psychic scars from her life in a cult. Penny tried to take her younger sister shopping for a new wardrobe several times but she kept retreating into the comfort of her prairie dresses. She did allow her sister to give her a haircut though. Penny did her best to support Becca Dawn, her own experience with deprogramming had been muddied by substance abuse and she had no intention of exposing her baby sister to the dark side of mainstream society.

Becca Dawn wanted to adjust slowly, starting by reading banned books, going on the internet and watching television. Penny even went back to her natural hair colour in solidarity with her sister. Penny wondered if she would have a better time adjusting if she made some friends so she introduced Becca Dawn to Yuki Behr, Candy's little sister. They got on well which brought Penny some hope.

Meanwhile, Royce's trial began and progressed quickly. The prosecution was doing their best to keep him from being released. They knew he'd disappear the second he had the chance. He spoke to Rachel as often as allowed and urged her to invite the faithful to attend his trial; as long as they were adults, of course. He wanted his people to witness a miracle: not only would he be found not guilty but Lord would change the jury's hearts and they would see fit to strike down the law making polygamy illegal. Even Rachel had trouble buying into this claim but she put on her best face as she spun the story for the elders.

Greyson Caliente presented his case, he was supported by decades worth of paperwork and witnesses showing that the FCSU owned businesses dodged taxes, denied wages to employees and forced minors to work long hours in the hot sun with no water. Royce, representing himself, argued that the employees "donated" their time and money back into the church and produced several affidavits from FCSU men to support this. He claimed that churches are exempt from paying taxes, including businesses owned by the church.

The jury went into deliberations. Only taking one day to think about it. When they returned for the final verdict Royce, Elden and many of their sons and brothers were sitting on the edge of their seats, waiting for the Prophet's predictions to come true. This is the moment of vindication. This verdict would change everything. Everyone watched the jury file back into the courtroom. "We the jury find the defendant, Royce Leroy Culton guilty on the charge of tax evasion." They also found him guilty of wage theft and profiting off child labour. The FCSU men in the audience broke down in tears wailing "Uncle Royce!" This wasn't supposed to happen.

Royce was sentenced to five years in prison and the Fundamental Church of Spiritual Unity must pay 3 million dollars in back taxes. Royce was led away back to prison and this followers slunk out of the courthouse back to their trucks. Isaac sat in the back row, trembling from head to toe. He was tearing down his family's empire brick by brick. He drove home plagued by guilt. Teresa greeted him at the door, she could read his face like a book. They betrayed you, not vice versa. What you're doing is making life better for the low ranking members. Remember how much control they exerted. That's what you're fighting." He hugged her and felt so incredibly grateful for his wife and soul mate.

Royce paced furiously around his cell. Clearly there were infiltrators in his flock, damaging his peoples' faith. He begged the Lord to show him the faces of his enemies so he could remove them. He awoke the next morning with a group of ten men he felt were the greatest threats to his power. And two women he just didn't like. He came up with some additional rules for the faithful; further restrictions on food (no meat, no spices, no added sugar) mandatory prayer sessions to set him free three times daily, no physical contact between male and female siblings (apart from girls caring for their baby and toddler brothers) He packaged up the letter, along with the list and sent it to Rachel. Then he sat back in his cell to stew.

[merakiaes]

Alright - Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman

Pairing: Jose “Sad Eyes” Guzman x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None.

Warnings/notes: Since Sad Eyes’ first name isn’t mentioned in the show, I’m stealing the one @spookysmujer​ and @youare-mysonshine​ came up with for him for their co-written story ‘Todo Cambio’. Go check it out! NOT PROOFREAD, so I apologize in advance for any possible mistakes, and translations for the Spanish bits can be found at the end. I hope you like it and let me know what you think, it’s my first time writing for Sad Eyes xx

Wordcount: 2397

Summary: Sad Eyes takes care of you after you’ve been jumped and beaten by Prophets. 

“Ow. Not so hard.” You hissed through your teeth, your entire body wincing when the alcohol-soaked rag was pressed down onto the open cut in your eyebrow.

Sad Eyes barely batted an eye to your complaints, his face wiped free of every emotion but anger as he kept cleaning you up with slow, careful movements.

The hand that wasn’t holding the rag was holding on to your chin to hold your face in place, his touch soft, almost as if he thought that you would break if he held you with any more pressure.

But still, the feeling of the rag pressing against the open scrapes and cuts on your face was the most painful thing you’d ever felt, having you constantly wincing out of his touch which in turn only added fuel to his burning irritation.

“I need to clean it or it’ll get infected.” He replied flatly, his voice low in his throat.

He heaved an annoyed sigh when you winced out of his touch again, reaching his hand back out to grab your shin, this time more determined. 

“You’re pressing too hard.” You winced again, tears burning your eyes.

Still, you kept watching him through your blurry vision, knowing that his body standing in front of you where you were seated on top of the kitchen counter was the only thing keeping you from falling down in all your dizzy glory.

Those Prophets had really done a number on you, four full-grown men with biceps the size of your thighs having jumped you, a twenty-year-old girl, guilty of nothing but being recognized as a Santo’s ruca when walking through the street.

Of course, one of them had been Latrelle, him having been the one to spot you out. He had been causing a lot of trouble for Los Santos lately, Cesar in particular. 

You held the youngest Diaz boy very dear to your heart and if you hadn’t hated those Prophets before, you sure did now that they had done him dirty like that.

So, of course, you just had to be your stupid old self and open your big, stupid mouth, basically inviting them to show off their dominance.

You didn’t know what ‘manly’ was in their eyes, but four guys ganging up on one girl half their size was not how you would define it. 

Either way, they beat you to the curb in an attempt to get you to give up a Santos safe-house, going in confident that you would throw the Santos under the bus for your own survival’s sake, but they were quickly proven wrong.

You were barely holding on to your life at the end of it and hadn’t Oscar, Jose and the Santos shown up when they did, you were sure you would have died.

You would never forget the look on Jose’s face when he came over to you where you laid on the ground, barely even able to hold your eyes open at that point. He was talking to you, yelling, but you couldn’t hear a word, your ears ringing.

His eyes had grown more panicked than they had already been when you guessed he realized you were slipping away from him, you remember the faint feeling of his hand slapping against your cheek and seeing Oscar rush up behind him.

The last thing you remembered was them lifting you up and carrying you towards the Impala while the other Santos beat down the Prophets, and then everything had turned black.

You woke up again when you were being carried back out of the car and at that point, you had gotten back your sense of hearing back and was a lot less out of it. 

Your thoughts weren’t completely coherent but you were still able to lazily sass your boyfriend and his best friend back when they scolded you for being stupid.

Something you knew neither of them had appreciated very much, especially not Jose.

You were pulled out of your thoughts and back to reality with another wince when he pressed the rag down again, his voice reaching your ears shortly after.

“I’m barely touching you.” He said in a flat voice, and true to his words, he carefully wiped the rag around the cut again. “You brought this on yourself. I told you to stay inside until I got back.”

You closed your eyes, sighing out through your nose and holding on to the edge of the counter as a sudden wave of dizziness hit you. “This again?” You questioned. “The fridge was empty and I was hungry. I just needed to go to the store.”

“I could’ve given you a ride.” He pressed down harder on your face as the anger got the best of him, the stinging sensation forcing your eyes open again.

You met his angry gaze with one of your own, glaring fiercely at him. “You weren’t picking up your phone. What was I supposed to do? Starve?”

Removing the rag away from your face and bringing his hands down to the counter, he stared at you. “You could have waited another hour.” He pointed out and you rolled your eyes, instantly regretting it as the bruises around them screamed in protest.

“How was I supposed to know you would have been done an hour from then?” You asked him, and watched as something flickered behind his brown eyes.

“The human body can go for three weeks without food.” He fired back, taking a threatening step closer to you.

“You know how I know that?” He raised his eyebrows, moving his face closer to you, to which you held your breath nervously. “Because you’re the one who told me.”

He shook his head, his gaze so strict you wanted nothing more than to look away. But you couldn’t. “You’re not taking this seriously. You could’ve died.”

Your eyebrows furrowed together at the sight of his eyes closing and his head falling down, his back moving up and down with violent breaths.

More than anything, you just wanted to tell him he was right and that you were sorry; that it wouldn’t happen again. One side of your mind was screaming at you to do just this, to put an end to the suffering he was obviously experiencing right now.

Bur admitting out loud that he was right would also mean admitting you were wrong, and that’s something the other side of your mind wasn’t on board with. You were just stubborn like that; a flaw that had caused problems in your relationship more time than you could remember.

“But I didn’t, did I?” You asked before you could stop yourself, your stubbornness getting the best of you.

You plastered on a smile, eyes softening and hands leaving the counter to take his face in yours, forcing him to look up at you as you continued. “My knight in shining armor turned up and saved me, like you always do.”

Your thumbs rubbed small circles on the line of his jaw and his eyes fell shut at the feeling, but it did nothing to calm his mind, his head beginning to shake furiously.

“Stop.” His voice was silent, low, as he got lost in your touch for just a brief moment. But he quickly pulled himself back together, opening his eyes and moving his hands up to stop yours “No hagas eso. This is serious.”

“I’m fine.” You tried to convince him again, dropping your hands from his face again and looking to the side, avoiding his pointed glare.

You knew you deserved the scolding you were currently getting, but you felt like a child being scolded by her parent and it made your defensiveness rise to the max out of pure instinct.

And he knew you like he knew the back of his own hand, knowing exactly how you were functioned, what you were thinking, what you were trying to do and why.

“Stop trying to run away from the consequences of your actions. Stop trying to make the situation less serious than it is.” He kept scolding you, trying to search out your eyes.

When you kept avoiding his gaze, he reached out and caught your chin in between his fingers again, forcing your face to the front so that he could look you in the eyes. 

“Are you listening to me?” He questioned, and out of pure instinct, you glared, turning defensive again.

“Yeah, I’m listening, Jose.” You snapped back. “How can I not when you keep getting up in my face?”

“You could have died, (Y/N)!” He finally snapped, the sudden change of volume of his voice causing you to jump where you sat, your heart following your body’s example behind your chest.

Your eyes widened and the speed of your heartbeat picked up significantly as his demeanor changed in less than a second, his face now pulled into a near murderous glare as he continued to yell. 

“Did you even stop to think about how it would affect me if something happened to you?! No, you never do! Porque eres un orgulloso, y no escuchas!”

You swallowed back the lump growing in your throat at the sight of tears now spilling down his cheeks, your own eyes beginning to sting at the sight.

It was absolutely terrifying, the kind of deep suffering the happiest looking people were able to hide inside themselves.

You had never seen him cry in the years you had been together and now that you had, the guilt that you had been pushing back this entire time suddenly came rushing back, like a flood going through your entire body, coming out on top of the pride you had previously allowed to control your words and actions.

“I’m sorry.” You were finally able to apologize, your voice small and barely even audible.

Your lower lip quivered and tears were building up in your eyes at a frequent pace as the fear from what had happened not even an hour ago came rushing back to you, having been pushed back by the adrenaline in the heat of the moment.

Only then did allow yourself to realize how serious the situation really was, but as you watched your boyfriend raise his hands to his head and breath heavily in an attempt to control his emotions, and failing miserably, you couldn’t even bring yourself to process your own fear.

All you could focus on was him, your arms automatically shooting out to catch his biceps in your hands.

“Hey, hey, I’m sorry, alright?” You said again, your voice now a bit louder. “I should’ve listened to you, but I’m fine. Thanks to you.”

He closed his eyes, still refusing to look at you and staying rooted to his spot when you tried pulling him back to you. “Yeah.” He agreed, his voice now lowered again. “But you wouldn’t have been if we hadn’t turned up when we did.”

You frowned, nodding and looking down into the floorboards. “I know. I’m sorry.” You admitted, your own tears finally spilling over the edge.

Sad Eyes’ head turned back to you, his glare going soft at the sight of you. He sighed deeply, pulling his hands over his face before turning back to you and stepping back in between your legs.

“I’m sorry I yelled at you.” He apologized calmly, raising his hands up to your cheeks. “You scared the shit out of me.” He breathed out, pressing a long kiss to your forehead while squeezing his eyes shut.

Your body instantly turned warmed at the small touch of affection, your hands coming up to grab at his wrists. “I know. I’m sorry.” You repeated silently, sounding like a record stuck on repeat at this point.

But he didn’t seem to care, moving his arms open and nodding at you. “Ven aquí. Let me hold you.”

You didn’t need to be told twice, inching yourself further out on the counter and leaning into his arms, letting his long arms wrap around you securely. 

He felt warm and familiar, solid and safe. You wanted to cling to his shirt, bury your face into the warm curve of his neck and never let go, instantly relaxing at the feeling of his body held tightly against yours.

But you knew that it was more for his sake than yours. Seeing you beaten up really scared him, you knew, and it would be a long time before he would forgive himself for letting that happen to you – even if it hadn’t even been remotely his fault.

Feeling a small drop fall on top of your head, you raised your face from his chest to look at him, wasting no time in taking his face in your hands and wiping his eyes free of the tears. 

“Please don’t cry.” You whispered.

He looked back at you, face blank but eyes holding more sadness and conflict than you’d ever seen him experience before. “I almost lost you.” He replied.

His voice was harsh, and your eyebrows creased together as your thumb swiped across his cheek again. “I know what you’re thinking and it’s not your fault.”

His eyes fell closed again and his head leaned down, his forehead suddenly pressing against yours. “You’re the only thing keeping me sane in all this Santo madness, I don’t know what I’d do without you, mi amor.”

His hands gripped at your waist desperately and you held his face in your hands just as affectionately. 

“I’m not going anywhere, papi.” Your head shook, rubbing your foreheads together. “I promise I’ll listen to you next time.”

Another breath left his nose, but this time out of relief. “I’m holding you to that, princesa.” He opened his eyes, squeezing your waist and pressing his forehead harder against yours.

“Te amo.” He spoke then, in that perfect Spanish accent that you loved so much and never failed to make your face light up in a smile; not even now when your face was bruised beyond recognition.

“I love you, too.” You whispered back, and then you leaned in and pressed your lips to his in a kiss, pouring all of you into that one single moment to let him know you were alright.

 Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

No hagas eso – don’t do that

Porque eres un orgulloso, y no escuchas – because you’re selfish, and you don’t listen

Ven aquí – come here

[electronictimetravelmoose]

Chapter 3, The Attack

Series Masterlist: The Prophet and the Angel

Pairing: Michael x Prophet!Reader

Warnings: none

Wordcount: ~1.4k

--------------------------

Time passed like it always does, bright green trees slowly turned colourful browns and reds and soon enough almost half a year had passed since ‘the second incident' as you called it. It still bothered you sometimes, thoughts swirling around who may have helped you that day and if he was really watching you, but those thoughts were pushed to the back of your head most times. You knew thinking about it too much would make you paranoid again. It was probably just one of your neighbors. That idea came to your mind three months after and since then you just accepted that as a reasonable answer to what happened, but still... Something deep inside you just didn't believe it as you would have liked it too. A small sighed escaped your lips as you sat in the last lesson of your day, staring out of the big clear window of the classroom. It was a usual Thursday religion class. Talking about God, Jesus and the Angels as you often did lately. It was actually a quite interesting topic if you thought about it in detail. Especially interesting were the different types of angels there are, normal Angels, Seraphim, Grigori, Archangels... The latest one always gives you goosebumps when you were thinking or talking about the subject. They are the most powerful and dangerous of all of the angels and certainly heaven's most terrifying weapons, as angels are indeed described as Warriors of God. Your thoughts were now swirling around the topic of the archangels. There were four archangels in total. Michael, the prince of heaven, a protector and defender of the faith, the first archangel there was. Lucifer, the lightbringer, also known as the morningstar, the first angel that fell and Satan. Raphael, the healer and the angel of truth. And the last one... Gabriel, the messenger, the strength of God, the youngest of the four. If they worked together no one could stop them, you thought, probably not even God himself. Before you could think about anything else the bell rang, pulling you out of your thoughts. Packing up your stuff didn't take long and soon enough you were out of school heading to the bus stop with your best friend, Belle. She was walking beside you, talking about the new girl in her english class who she thought was extremely cute. You really tried to listen to what she was saying but you couldn’t focus on the words coming out of her mouth. The Nightmares were getting worse again and the blackouts were increasing by the week. It didn’t make sense anymore but then again it didn’t since the beginning. You couldn’t help but sigh and try to focus back on your friend. “...and then she asked me if I wanted to hang out with her this weekend! Can you believe that? I was so nervous but I tried to play it cool and said ‘sure’ and now we will be hanging out on Saturday!” The words coming out of Belle’s mouth were like a never ending waterfall. “Jesus Belle breath” ,you sighed, “I am happy that you can spend time with your new crush but you can’t do that if you choke on your own words.” You gave her a tired smile. The last time she had a crush it didn’t end so well and you were really hoping it would finally work out for her. “You’re right. I mean it’s not even a date, we are just hanging out. It’s totally normal.” You nodded and the both of you stepped onto the bus that was waiting at the bus stop. You took a seat near the front and continued to talk. “What about you? Is there someone catching your eye?” Belle was wiggling with her eyebrows and you let out a mix between a laugh and a groan.  “Besides the boys haunting my dreams, no, there is no one.” “Boring.” You let out a snort and rolled your eyes. Belle was the only one who knew about your nightmares and the things that have happened over the course of the last few months. You knew she would never judge you for the things you see that probably aren’t even real and you were true. She didn’t, she actually believed you. Especially after you told her the story with your sister and the vision you had beforehand. “Is it getting worse?” The only answer you gave her was a nod. Belle already saw how tired you were that morning and she had given you a pitiful look because of it. She always wished she knew how to help you but there was nothing she could do. The lack of sleep, the nightmare and the stress of your last school year were all resting heavily on your shoulders and only time would tell how long you were going to stand the pressure. Tiredly you rested your head on her shoulder and closed your eyes, focussing on the noises around you to keep you awake and away from the bloodshed. “Hey your mom and brother aren’t home over the weekend right? I could come over tomorrow after school and we could make a movie marathon! We haven’t done that in ages!” Even without looking you knew Belle was beaming, not only because of her suggestion but because she knew it always made you feel better. You smiled softly and nodded. “Yeah I’d like that.” Back at home you were once again alone. You dropped your backpack on the kitchen table and began rummaging through the fridge in search of something to eat. You took out the leftovers of the lasagne your mother had made the previous day for dinner. You took a piece of it and put it on a plate and which you heated in the microwave. You yawned and looked up at the clock hanging over the door frame, 2:14pm. You were thinking about what to do before your mom came home when the ring of the doorbell pulled you out of it. You walked out into the hall and over to the front door. You didn’t even think about looking through the peephole before opening the door as your mind was way too clouded with the lack of sleep to even notice if an elephant was in the room with you or not. “Yeah?” You asked as you looked at the person in front of you. It was a man in his late 40s with blond hair that was slowly graying who seemed to be wearing a really expensive suit. You immediately noted that he didn’t seem to fit in with the neighborhood but he could be visiting someone. A few moments passed in which the guy didn’t say anything. “Can I help you?” “Are you (Y/N) (Y/L/N)?” The man’s voice sounded weird to you but you couldn’t pinpoint how so and you leaned slightly back. You cautiously took a step back and looked closely at him. Something was off about him, but what? “I am, why are you asking?” After that sentence left your mouth everything happened too fast for you to comprehend. Maybe your alarm bells should have rung earlier but a sudden wave of dread washed over you and you tried to slam the door shut in the man’s face. In the last second he put his foot between the door and the frame, blocking it from closing.  Your body and mind were suddenly wide awake and filled with adrenaline. He pushed the door back open and you stumbled a few steps back before your survival instinct kicked in and you bolted for the knife block in your kitchen. The man followed right behind, angrily muttering under his breath as he reached for you, you just took a hold of the biggest knife of the bunch. You whirled around and slammed the knife to the hilt into his chest. You breathed heavily and a wave of shock washed over you. I just stabbed someone! You let go of the knife which was still sunken into the man's chest and took a few steps back. The shock was replaced very quickly with a sense of fear you have never felt before. Without even flinching the man grabbed the hilt and slowly pulled the knife out while holding eye contact you the whole time. He pointed the knife and you and his eyes turned completely black. Oh no… “You shouldn’t have done that little girl. I was tasked to bring you in alive but he didn’t say anything about you being unharmed.” The moment he was about to stab you a white blinding light and high pitched noise filled the kitchen.

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Tagging: @satans-bae-and-queen, @hippogreif-joana