#those things exist at the same time and that’s where the tension comes from

[nicollekidman]

daisybilly is just really interesting to me bc they’re two people who could’ve existed collaboratively for decades, bringing forth their most creative and fulfilled artistic selves and really blossoming under the kind of partnership that allows two people to really truly understand each other and in that understanding, create so much beauty. but they’re also two incredible damaged people who feel the pull of the physical more strongly (seemingly) than those around them, and those earthly temptations keep getting between them and dragging them back down… i like the choice to make them explicitly intimate bc i think it puts sex/romance on the same level as drugs/alcohol in that they both are looking for those things to fill parts of themselves they COULD heal with music, and the preoccupation with resisting the temptation they keep inviting is just as destructive and distracting as the act itself… idk it’s very fun. there’s a lot going on with them and i think making them kiss (and hopefully fuck!!!) just makes it sadder and more compelling

[luna-azzurra]

Writing a Morally gray character

Think about their backstory, what shaped them into who they are? What do they believe in? And, most importantly, what pushes them to get out of bed every morning and keep going? These characters aren’t simple good or bad. They’re caught in the middle, in that murky, complicated space between black and white. That’s where they get interesting because they’re constantly wrestling with themselves, trying to figure out the right choice, or if the “right” choice even exists for them.

You need to show this internal battle. Imagine your character being torn between what they believe is morally right and what they actually want. This is where the real drama comes in, it’s like watching them juggle their principles with their desires in real-time. They’ll mess up, and they’ll make decisions that are sometimes questionable, but that’s what makes them human and relatable. One way to really highlight their complexity is by putting them in situations where there’s no clear answer. You know, those moments in life where everything’s kind of a mess, and you’re stuck trying to figure out what the hell you’re supposed to do? Your character should face situations like that. These gray areas create tension because readers won’t know which direction the character will go, and honestly, your character might not know either.

And don’t forget, growth is a huge part of writing a morally gray character. People aren’t static, they change based on what happens to them, and your character should too. Maybe they start off with a strong sense of morality but, over time, that starts to shift. Or maybe they start with shaky ethics and slowly become a better person as they learn from their mistakes. Growth can also go the other way, they could spiral downward, giving in to darker impulses. Either way, they need to evolve, just like people do in real life. That’s what keeps the story fresh and unpredictable. The last thing you want is a character that stays the same the whole way through.

Also, please, no stereotypes. A morally gray character doesn’t have to be a brooding anti-hero with a tragic past (unless that’s your vibe, but even then, switch it up). Give them quirks that make them unique. Maybe they have unexpected motivations, like they’re doing something shady for a cause they genuinely believe in, or they’ve got a weird sense of humor that throws people off. Whatever it is, make sure they feel like an individual, not just a copy-paste character we’ve all seen a million times.

Even when your character makes decisions that aren’t exactly clean-cut or heroic, the reader still needs to understand why. Show their vulnerabilities, why they doubt themselves, why they hesitate, and why they ultimately make the choices they do. It’s all about making them relatable, even when they’re walking that fine line between right and wrong. People might not always agree with them, but they should at least be able to see where they’re coming from.

And remember, every choice your character makes should have consequences. They don’t exist in a bubble. Their decisions should ripple out and affect not only them but the people around them. Maybe they make a selfish decision, and it ends up hurting someone they care about, or they try to do the right thing, and it blows up in their face. One last thing, just because your character lives in that gray area doesn’t mean they don’t have any sense of right or wrong. They might have their own personal code they follow, even if it doesn’t line up with society’s morals. Maybe they justify their actions in a way that makes sense to them, even if other people wouldn’t agree. It’s all about exploring that space where they’re not totally good, but not totally bad either. That’s where things get really interesting.

Think about where your character is going. Is their journey going to push them to become a better version of themselves? Will they fall back into old patterns and never really change? Or will they stay stuck in that moral gray zone, constantly torn between doing what’s right and doing what feels right for them?

[samkerrworshipper]

your moms are here

leah williamson x reader, jordan nobbs x reader, (wobbs as coparents)

part 5 of beautiful girl series pt.1 -> pt.2 -> pt.3 -> pt.4

warnings: if your any bit emotionally unstable this isn’t for u x

You didn’t expect to wake up, let alone wake up warm and in a fraction of the amount of pain you’d been in the last time you’d been conscious enough to feel anything.

Your eyes were still crammed shut, your chest still hurt, your body was still shaking, but you felt better, less like you were dangling on the cliff of life and death, you weren’t sure where you were, or if you were even alive.

Was this they greater beyond?

Was it the warmth of death’s embrace?

You knew it wasn’t, because there was still the dull pain and the tension all over your body. You didn’t believe that life after death was anything, that it was actually some overwhelming cloud of happiness and perfection, but if it did exist, if there was some kind of heaven, this wasn’t it.

You thought about the places you could be, in bed at Matt’s house, in bed at your mom’s house, in bed at some kidnappers house, in bed at rehab.

You quickly eliminated each option, the bed and sheets weren’t the same from your bed or Matt’s, kidnappers didn’t normally concern themselves with comfortability, and in your mind rehab would have more detoxing, screaming, junkies.

Out of pure fear, you tried to crack your eyes open, it wasn’t easy, but with some concentration that made your forehead feel like it was being split open, you managed to slowly crack your right eye open. There was sleep and tears keeping your eyelashes stuck together, which made it far harder then it should have been, the blinding white light directly above your head wasn’t much help either.

You took back what you thought, everything hurt.

From your toenails to the follicles on top of your head, it felt like every single nerve in your body was being plucked and split in half.

Your whole body curled itself up into a ball, it made the shaking a little bit less like your body was being exorcised.

You realised very quickly as your eye became accustomed to the light around you that you were in the last place you possibly wanted to be.

You should have clocked on to it, based on the persistent beeping noise coming from above you and the cords that were connected to your arm.

They’d dropped you off out the front of a fucking hospital.

Or someone had found you and called a ambulance.

Or your moms had taken you to the hospital.

Or you were in some sick twisted dream.

With the rest of the energy that was left in your body you managed to crack open your other eye, it wasn’t easy, but it helped you feel more aware of your surroundings.

It was a surprisingly quiet hospital, or at least by your standards.

You tried to sit up, but it was no use, your body was completely spent, all of the energy felt like it had been completely pulled from your body.

Withdrawals, maybe.

Or the reaction of the opioid with the stimulant.

Those were your best guesses as to how you’d ended up feeling like death.

You didn’t have to wait long to find out, the curtain which was keeping you contained from the rest of the ER was opened up, a nurse waltzing her way over to your bedside.

You couldn’t help but feel a little bit vulnerable, you could hardly move your body and had a lot less control over it then you would have liked.

“Miss dump and run awakens.”

Dump and run.

You couldn’t decide whether or not you were mad with your friends, on one hand, it was smart of them to drop you off at an er. They had no medical knowledge, they were druggies, they didn’t need a dead body on their hands. On the other hand, they’d left you, deserted you, left you for dead.

The nurse moved to your IV and monitor, looking at the different flashing numbers and writing them down on her clipboard, before she looked down and addressed you properly.

“Had a lot of drugs in your system for such a wee thing like yourself. Your friends were smart to drop you here, you would have been as good as dead with that much meth in your system for any longer. I’ve seen a lot of overdoses in my day, you might just take the cake though, darlin’.”

Overdose?

A fucking overdose?

You’d been doing drugs for months now, meth, a smidge of coke, little bits of molly and LSD, a little sprinkle of heroin, opioids a couple of times, plenty of weed. Not once had you ever overdosed, you’d never seen someone overdose, you’d come to think it was urban myth.

You’d hardly taken anything, two shoot ups within a couple of hours of each other, it wasn’t something you’d done before but it also wasn’t exorbitant or something you hadn’t seen other people do.

“Sorry, an overdose?”

You were still shaking, it was less obvious underneath the shitty hospital blanket that was on top of you, but you were still shaking like a leaf in the wind.

“Yup, think you had more meth in your blood stream then blood. The saline should flush it all out until your guardians get here.”

Guardians?

What?

What the actual fuck was this nightmare that you were stuck in.

“Sorry, my guardians?”

The nurse looked back down at her clipboard.

“Ms Williamson and Ms Nobbs? We’re obligated to call emergency contacts in life threatening circumstances and those were the ones that were on your phone, they should be here soon enough.”

You didn’t care that you couldn’t moved, you needed to leave.

“I want to discharge, now.”

The nurse looked at you like you had gone silly, like you were in a psychiatric ward instead of the emergency one.

“You’re underage, and you’d have to sign a waiver saying that you are aware you’re going against doctors orders, a lot of paperwork, and you’d actually have to be strong enough to walk out of here, which I can promise you is not happening any time soon,”

The nurse pointed to the IV bag.

“There’s still another hour or so left on this, until it’s done that dizzines your experiencing and the weakness isn’t going to pass. You’re frighteningly dehydrated and full of methamphetamines.”

Fuck.

You were so fucking fucked.

“Please, I’ll sign whatever forms, just let me leave, please.”

You didn’t know how you planned to leave, considering you weren’t even mobile enough to roll onto your back to look at the nurse properly, eye to eye.

“You get up and walk to my desk where the papers are and you can leave, how’s that sound, sweetheart?”

You want to yell directly into her face and tell her to let you fucking leave. But you don’t, you have a inch of self-respect that prevents you from doing it.

“Please.”

You’ve never liked to beg, you did enough of it during your youth, begging for your mom to not leave you home alone every night, begging for things to get better, begging for your life to get better, and it had. Jordan and Leah had introduced you to a whole new world, a beautiful world, the kind of world you’d read about as a child, they’d given you anything and everything you’d wanted growing up. You’d become gracious, but promised yourself that you’d never beg in the same way that you always had, but when your life had been turned upside down, you’d reverted back to your old ways.

“I have a daughter of my own, y’know, around your age. If she was in your situation all I would care about is her being okay, that’s whats most important.”

You rolled your eyes, you were certain of one things, your moms would be mad, you were surprised they were coming at all, everyone had deserted you, it felt like you had nobody.

“Can i get something for the pain?”

You were intelligent enough to know that the iv was detoxing you at a rapid rate, whilst it was saving your life, it also meant that you were going to be sent into withdrawals a lot faster then you should have. You weren’t going to get your hands on meth, clearly. So you needed a substitute, luckily, you were currently sitting in a hospital which was filled with every single painkiller known to man.

“Good try honey, a part from the fact that your bloodstream and body couldn’t even handle a tylenol at the minute, I’m also not going to give an addict drugs, just hang in honey, the chest pain and muscle cramps should start to pass soon.”

Just as she was finishing, your eyes darted to the emergency room doors, which were now hanging open as your two moms and Lia walked through the doors.

Jordan was dressed in the same sweats she’d been in all morning, her face was red and puffy, eyes bloodshot and still full of tears.

Leah looked more put together, she had a pair of slacks on and a clean shirt, her eyes were as red as Jordan’s but she appeared to have put on more of a brave face.

Your eyes darted everywhere, looking for some kind of escape, or to stop their fast steps that were slowly getting closer to you with every millisecond that passed.

There was no hope for you.

If the drugs hadn’t killed you then your moms would.

Leah managed to cross into your makeshift room first, her eyes flashing across every inch of your body. You expected her to ask the nurse a question, or yell at you, but she didn’t.

She walked straight to your bedside, your nurse moving out of the way, and without you being aware of what was happening, wrapped her arms around your body.

You didn’t hug your moms a lot anymore.

In the start, when you’d started out with them, it had taken a lot of effort from them to make you trust them with that kind of contact, but eventually, you’d become reliant on their hugs, the shoulder pats, the little motherly touches here and there that you’d never gotten as a kid.

When they’d broken up, the hugs and contact had faded, similarly to the love in the house, it was like everything personal, everything that made Leah’s house a home had been drained.

“You’re okay, thank god you’re okay.”

Leah’s body lingered on your own body long enough for Jordan’s arms to wrap around your body on the other side of you.

You hadn’t been hugged by the both of them in over a year, you felt guilty for wishing that this wouldn’t be a one time thing, that you could have this whenever you wanted. That wasn’t your life though, it wasn’t your reality, it wasn’t reality.

You let yourself relax, you knew you’d regret it when the moment ended, it’d make it that much harder to realise you couldn’t have this, but you let yourself enjoy it whilst you had it.

It lasted longer than you’d thought, it was hard, Jordan hugs were addictive. You didn’t get them a lot anymore, occasionally you’d get a hug from Leah, once every blue moon when she wanted one, but it wasn’t like this. It wasn’t body on body, feelings on feelings, love on love.

You didn’t know if you knew what love felt like anymore, over the years it had been distorted, you were certain that love could only be given to a person in transaction. It’s why you’d tried to be perfect, the perfect kid, the perfect student, the perfect player. You’d given up when Jordan had left, it didn’t matter anymore, there wasn’t enough love to be shared around between you and Leah. Love to you, was a privilege, not something that everyone had extra of. You had to earn love, or at keast that;s how you’d always seen it. You’d never been good enough for your own parents, that’s how you’d ended up with Jordan and Leah, from them you’d always craved that love, the love you’d never gotten and you’d been willing to do anything for it, you still were.

“We love you so much chicky, so much.”

You enjoyed the little murmurs, the little whispers in your ears that were so heartfelt and meaningful that you could feel the tears of your moms dripping down each side of your neck.

All good things come to and end, but it didn’t make it any easier.

Leah, unsurprisingly was the first to turn to your nurse.

“They didn’t tell me anything on the phone, just that we needed to come here, she’s okay?”

Your nurse nodded at your mom.

“Yes ma’am, we’re flushing her out right now. She wants to discharge herself, it’s going against medical advice but she’s free to once she’d done with her iv and she’s regained some strength.”

Jordan sat down on the bed next to you, leaving a big enough gap of space that you could still feel her presence but weren’t pressed up against her, she was listening just intently as Leah to the nurse.

“Flushing her out? Of what?”

Fuck.

You’d never ever, in your life, known Leah to not be inquisitive, she needed and wanted answers to everything, but this was worrying you. There were things you kept a secret for a reason.

“Methamphetamines, she had a pretty high amount circulating in her body. I can get the doctor to come and talk to you about it. Her body had built up a decent tolerance, she took it a lot better than you or I would. Apart from that she’s in fairly good condition, although the doctor did have some concerns about some scratches and bruises that seemed consistent with domestic or sexual abuse.”

You watched, in a series of moments, your mothers face fall more and more as the nurse kept speaking. Leah was pretty good at having a poker face, she had to for her job, she also kept a brave face for life though. You’d hardly seen a break in her resolve since her injury but right now, she was keeping nothing hidden. You felt Jordan’s body go rigid behind you as well, you knew shit was about to get real.

You considered strangling yourself with the blanket on top of you, or drowning yourself in the toilet bowl in the adjacent bathroom. It sounded better than the conversation that was about to occur.

“You’re daughter is very lucky, stupid, but lucky. Her friends ditched her at the front door, if they had of been any later she’d be in far worse condition. She was here just quick enough for us to counteract the drugs and stop them from effecting her mental cognition. Her friends shouldn’t have ditched her, or let her get that far gone, but you should be grateful they were at least smart enough to take her somewhere she could get help. I’m going to go find the doctor, he can talk to you about different option you have, and I’ll leave you guys to talk for a little bit, okay?”

Leah nodded, dumbfoundedly, trying her best to smile at the nurse as she made her way towards the exit of your room, closing the curtains and then the door.

Leah pivoted as soon as she was gone, looking down at you with so much horror and pain that you could feel it in your gut.

“Meth, bubba? You’ve been doing meth?”

The sentence hung in the air for a few seconds, filling up all of the space, you hoped that after a couple of seconds that it would disappear, like it had never been said.

“It’s not a big deal.”

You should have chosen your words more precisely, but you were finding it hard to think with all of the drug haze clouding your head.

“Not a big deal? You told me it was the vape, then it was weed, then it was coke and now iut’s fucking meth? There is nothing not big about that bubba. This isn’t just something you can do for fun, this isn’t okay, this is serious. You could die from this. You almost did. You’re 17. 17 year olds aren’t supposed to die. Why bubba? What made you want to do this, not just to yourself but to your life, to everyone. Do you know how scared your mother and I have been. The whole team has been calling up hospitals and roaming the streets looking for you. We’ve been terrified.”

Guilt was one of the best ways to make a person admit they were wrong, you knew it, you’d watched your moms manipulate each other during the break up the same way. They’d use something against the other until it spiralled into a massive fight which would end with someone sleeping at a teammates house or on the couch.

“I’m sorry, okay? Can we just go home? I want to go home.”

Another poor choice in words apparently by the look on Leah’s face.

“No we can’t just go home, we need to talk about this bubba, you overdosed on meth. You have a tolerance for it, which means you’ve been using it for a while. You have bruises and you’re in a hospital bed unable to move. You’re addicted to a drug that I would have thought you’d have absolutely no interest in. You’ve got a disease bubba, you’ve got an addiction and we’re going to work it out, we’ll fix it.”

Similar to being a control freak, Leah was also a person who wanted to fix everything. No problem was big enough for her, apparently your whole life wasn’t either.

“Mom this isn’t a disease, this isn’t like fucking cancer or something. I made a choice, I have it under control, this is my life. I’m choosing to live it this way.”

Your mom looks like she’s about to lose her shit.

“I understand that you think you have this under control and that you think this is the best way to be living your life but it fucking isn’t. I understand you’re struggling, but this isn’t okay, you’re a kid, you can;t be doing this.”

Worst thing you can tell a addict, you can’t take drugs.

Because yes you most certainly can, it’s a free motherfucking country.

“I understand what I’m doing, it doesn’t make me a bad person or any different from your or mama. You don’t like who i am anymore, not since i quit football and stopped being who you wanted me to be, I’ve changed and you have to accept that, this is me mom, this is who I am.”

Leah looked flabbergasted.

“You want me to just nod my head and accept my daughter is a junkie, right? That’s the permission you are seeking, you aren’t going to get it bubba, this isn’t anywhere near okay. This isn’t you, people change, I change, you’re allowed to be different then how you were a couple of years ago. Drugs isn’t how you change yourself, it’s not how you reinvent yourself. You can’t live your whole fucking life like this because guess what, you’ll end up dead. Addiction is a degenerative disease, it is incurable, it is deadly, it’s no fucking different from cancer and you’ve got it. I understand that, you’ve got an addiction, we’ll figure it out. I am not going to enable you to keep abusing a substance that will kill you. You’ve got a death wish and I won’t sit by and allow it to happen. I thought I was cool, I thought it was good of me to be accepting that you’re a teenager and you were going to do stupud stuff, I let you get away with much more than I should have. I’m sorry, I’m sorry that if I gave you to much space that you felt the need to do this, I’m sorry that I wasn’t a good enough parent to see the warning signs, but I won’t let you kill yourself bubba, not when I can stop it from happening.”

Jordan was still silent, as passive as ever, she’d always taken a backseat, the silent enabler.

“You’ve got no fucking idea what I’m going through, I’m sorry I scared you, but I don’t have to explain my actions to you, you understand nothing about what I’m dealing with.”

The first time you sweared in the presence of Leah and Jordan was your second day with them. You didn’t even know what swearing was, you’d just picked up words that had been said as you’d been growing up. You hadn’t hesitated to throw a ‘fuck’ out when you’d stubbed your foot on the kitchen bench as you’d been pouring yourself a glass of water.

You’d known something was wrong though when you’d turned around to sit back down at the table with Leah and Jordan and both of them looked like they’d seen a ghost.

You’d hardly swore after that, to your core, you were a people pleaser, you didn’t like to be in trouble, right now though it was like everything you’d grown up with was exiting your body. You felt like a monster, like a version of yourself you didn’t know and it was hard, it was really fucking hard. You didn’t want to break down, you were scared that if you were vulnerable you’d be taken advantage of again, the same way that you friends had, so you put up your won shields.

“I don’t need to know what you’re going through to know that this isn’t good. We’ll get you into rehab, we’ll get you clean, we’re here for you, right Jords?”

You could feel Jordan nodding from behind you.

“I’m not going to rehab, fuck no.”

Leah was pacing, it was what she did when she was stressed, it was a clear tell.

“So, I’m just supposed to allow you back into my house, knowing that you’ve been hiding an addiction from me for months, trust that my drug addicted child will stay clean on her own account and be willing to go through withdrawals and not give in to her own addiction. Do you think I don’t love you, is that it? Because right now you’re telling me that I am expected to allow my daughter to use drugs, lethal drugs that almsot killed her, under my roof, allow you to live your life as you want it, and leave you alone. As a person who loves you and has loved your for the past 9 years of your life, are you actually hearing what you are saying?”

Love.

It was a curious thing, your mother thought she loved you, or at least she felt like she did. Ut was funny how to you, you felt the exact opposite way.

“So what you’re doing this to show me you love me or something? Reality check, you haven’t given a fucking shit about me in months, it’s all about Lia, all about your knee. I’m not selfish enough to expect that you can focus on me whilst your recovering but don’t try and act like you’ve been loving and caring about me this whole time when you haven’t.”

Leah sits herself down, she can only handle so long on her feet nowadays.

“Maybe you should coem stay with me, come to rehab in Birmingham. Bubba, your mom is still struggling.”

You’re more than shocked to hear Jordan pipe up, it reignites something else in you.

“No you don’t get to have a fucking say. You left me, you don’t text anymore, you don’t call. I’m only your kid when it’s convenient for you, which is about 10 days every year. You don’t even try with me, you washed your hands of me a year ago and you don’t get to come back now. You gave me up.”

Your sick of being the understanding one, sick of being the one everybody could burden with their problems, sick of being the fucking scapegoat in every situation.

“Look kid, i think you need to have some more respect for your mothers.”

Lia.

Fucking Lia and her audacity and her fucking butting into all of your family problems.

“No you don’t get a fucking say, you move in a couple of months ago to support my mom and all of a sudden your my third fucking parent. You’ve got nothing to do with me, You don’t get to have a say in anything, you aren’t apart of this fucking family.”

Leah looked like she was having about 30 wars with herself inside of her head, like she was struggling to figure out which side of her brain she should side with.

“Bubba, we’ve talked about this, you need to be respectful to Lia.”

You were sick of everybody telling you that you had to respect people, that you had to follow fucking rules. They wondered why you’d spiralled.

“No, fuck this, fuck you, fuck jordan, fuck everything. I made a series of decisions, ones that I am happy with, this is how I am living my life.”

Leah took a deep breath, before turning to face you.

It was hard looking at her eye to eye, you were putting her through a lot right now, and a part of you deep down felt bad about it. You didn’t want to make your mom feel in pain, you didn’t want her to suffer, it was the last thing you wanted. Without her, you’d be as good as nothing, you’d have absolutely nothing. But you were lashing out, you were as frantic as your sore chest and pumping heart would let you be.

“Bubba. You don’t seen what’s wrong. I do, Jordan and I are sitting here talking to a girl that we don’t know. This isn’t our daughter, this isn’t the girl we’ve raised. You’re going to go to rehab, you’re going to detox, you’re going to get properly clean and once you are we’ll have this conversation again, see if you have a different perspective.”

You didn’t want to have this conversation when you were clean, you wanted to have it now.

“No. If you gave a shit about me, like you’re acting to, you wouldn’t have fucking broken up in the first place. You wouldn’t have torn my life apart, you wouldn’t have done this to me. You wouldn’t have stopped cring about me, you wouldn’t have stopped loving me. Let me go, let me leave. You fucking did this to me and if you want to make it up to me you’ll let me leave.”

You saw Leah’s face fall to another level.

“I can’t do that bubba.”

You felt like you were spinning out of control, like you were in a car that had just fallen over a cliff, and you were slowly doing flip after flip as the car catapulted towards the rocks at the bottom.

“Mom, just let me leave, let me go, please mom, let me leave, let me fucking leave.”

Leah just shook her head at you.

“Bubba, I know it doesn’t feel like it right now, it might not ever. I know me and your mom breaking up was hard for you, you didn’t deserve that, and I’m sorry for that, but neither of us could handle keeping you in a household without love, and I know it’s different now, I’m so sorry for that, I wish we could go back. But we can’t, me and your mom don’t love each other more, we can’t just love each other. We love you though, we love you more then anything else. We would both pick you above anybody in the world, you’re our beautiful little girl, you’re our girl. You’ll never not be our daughter. We chose you years ago and we would choose you again today, everyday, for the rest of our lives. No matter what you do.”

There are big tears dripping down your moms face, you’ve seen her cry plenty in your life, Leah Williamson is known to be an emotional person, but not like this, not with this much anguish and pain in her face, never like this.

“You don’t love me, you can’t fucking love me, I’m not like either of you. I break people apart, I’m a catalyst, everywhere I go, I tear people a part, I wreck their lives. I wrecked my parents, I wrecked you guys relationship, I wrecked my own life. I’m a fucking semi-truck that bulldozes through peoples lives, just let me leave and you guys can be happy again.”

Leah takes a double take, her fists are white from how hard they are holding onto the arms of the chair she’s sat in. You’re surprised she doesn’t yell back at you, but instead of meeting your aggression with an equal amount, she composes herself.

“Bubba, do you know how much I love you, how much your mama and I love you? If you could take all of the words in the english language, it still wouldn’t be enough to describe how much we love you. And if you could gather all of those words together, it still wouldn’t be enough. What we feel for you is everything. I love you more than everything. You don’t pull people a part, you’ve made your mama and I happier than we ever would have been without you. You light up our lives everyday, I know it doesn’t feel like it, but just seeing you everyday is my biggest achievement, it’s the best part of my day. Seeing you grow up to be the person Jord and I raised will forever be the best part of my life. You didn’t tear us apart, if anything you were what kept us together for so long, because being around you made us both so happy, that all of our problems didn’t matter as much. Eventually it was too much though, it had nothing to do with you, it never will, it never did. You’re the light in our life, you are our whole universe. We just want you to be okay, you don’t have to be who you were, people change, but you need to be okay. You’re not okay right now, there isn’t anything wrong with that, it’s okay to not be okay, but me and your mama will find you help if you don’t seek it our yourself. You need to go to rehab, you can’t live your life like this, it isn’t sustainable. Drugs ruin peoples lives. I don’t need to throw stats at you for you to understand the magnitude of drug related deaths, because that’s how this will end, with you dead. You’ve been through so much bubba, you’re so strong, but you don’t always have to be strong, you’re allowed to break down, you’re allowed to have bad days. But drugs isn’t a way to fix that, it’s not a safe coping mechanism, you can’t rely on drugs to solve every problem that you have. You need to get clean. We love you so much, our beautiful girl.”

Everything hurts, your heart, your head, your body. Your eyes and head aren’t clear, it’s like there is a fuzzy haze covering everything, but you believe what Leah is telling you, she’s telling you the honest truth, and you can’t deny that.

[veritasangel]

ghost like me

⋆ ｡⋆ any pov ୨୧˚ warnings: none {wc: 581}

Simon had always been a cautious man. A life spent in the shadows, dealing with classified missions, trusting no one-at least, not without vetting them first. His work demanded that from him, and that particular aspect of his personality managed to leak into his relationships too. When they did happen, they were casual, uncomplicated, and above all, safe. 

That’s why, after laughing over late night whiskey with you and getting comfortable with one another, he didn't resist the urge to conduct a background check on you.

The two of you weren't official, not even close, but the tension was there. You'd gone to his apartment more than once, and he'd found his way to yours, where things had transpired that were a little more than friendly. It wasn't love, but it was something. Still, Simon was cautious. 

His instincts told him to dig deeper, just to be sure. After all, he needed to know if there was some kind of danger lurking in the air, any threat.

Old habits die hard.

Except this time, what he found-or rather didn't find-un­nerved him.

There was nothing.

No trace of you. No records, no history, nothing to flag. You were a ghost. And that sent a shiver down his spine. He was used to uncovering everything about a person with just a few taps-where they were born, who they knew, where they'd been. 

But you? It's as if you never existed prior to the day he met you.

And Simon didn’t know how to feel about that.

It was a double-edged sword: it made him wary. A clean slate was a warning sign in his world that someone was hiding something, and he wasn't naive enough to think otherwise. He couldn't help but wonder whether you were dangerous, and that idea didn't sit well in his gut. It gnawed at the back of his mind, tugged his focus when you weren't around. He had his doubts, wondering if he should step back, keep a distance and work out who you were before it went any further.

But then there was something else. A flicker of pride. Whoever you were, you were good. Better than most, at any rate and Ghost was impressed, and that said something. Not often he met anyone who could slip under the radar as cleanly as that, leaving not even breadcrumbs to follow. It gave him the feeling that you could be cut from the same cloth as him, a survivor in the dark.

Then, of course, there was that other feeling-the one that snuck up on him anytime he let his defences down with you. The one that made him want to protect you, even when he still knew only half the story. He was angry at how you so easily made him feel that way. 

He didn't like uncertainty. And with you? It was everywhere-your past, your motives, your future together, everything.

Every time you flash that knowing smile, or when he catches those eyes that seem to see far more than he will ever see-the pull comes again. He wanted to keep you close, yet he just couldn’t shake this feeling that perhaps he was already too close.

Simon wasn't sure whether to pull you in or push you away.

You were a mystery, and mysteries weren't safe. Yet, maybe this was what had drawn him to you in the first place.

You were dangerous, much like him. And maybe that wasn't such a bad thing after all.

༄ cod m.list

© veritasangel ↣ 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘴

[perseephoneee]

four times we almost kissed and the one time we did (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: slight blood sharing, mostly frusteration

a/n: unfortunately for my sanity, i have fallen in love with kol. why? i couldn't tell you. the actor drives me up a fucking wall. but the character? i am down for bad. so here ya go. feel free to request more kol or over tvdu characters!!

↳ masterlist ↳  want to be shipped with a fic character?

[1] First meeting

Magic has existed in New Orleans for as long as anyone can remember. The prevalence of voodoo-- NOLA's most giant "tourist trap"-- originated in 1791 with enslaved West Africans who moved to Louisiana to grow a community for as many free people of color. That spirit meant that many of its inhabitants descended from that original society or were drawn here for its magical properties. Your family was one of the latter, a bunch of witches seeking solace in a place that nurtured it. Except with magic came strife, and eventually, other creatures came knocking at the door. Enter the Mikaelsons, New Orlean's resident vampire family that was always at the center of whatever drama was happening. Right now, something involving all those magically oriented. 

You made it a point to stay clear of the fight. Not because you didn't care– you did– but because it wasn't your fight to be had. That's how you stayed alive in this neighborhood; you knew where to stick your nose and when to stay clear. Besides, all the commotion with one of the Harvest girls (Cassie, you believe her name was) and the witch's distaste of vampires meant tensions were high. You could help the community from the background anyway; you didn't need to make yourself known.

At least, that's what you hoped. But things rarely turned out how you wanted, and this was one of those times. Walking through the back streets of NOLA was never an excellent idea, but it was shorter, and you just wanted to get to the metaphysical supply store before it closed. You needed more laurel leaves to create protection charms around your house, especially with the uptake in strife in the recent year. 

Which is how you came upon a witch killing three vampires in the alley.

You wanted to turn on your heel and leave, but the witch noticed you before you could. You didn't recognize him, so you were unsure what coven he belonged to. He was tall enough to probably tower over you, with golden curly hair and a jaw sharp enough to cut your fingers if you touched it. He was unbelievably handsome, and you hated that it caught your breath.

"You shouldn't be here, luv," he crooned, his English accent thick. He sauntered down the alley, coming up to you with narrowed eyes. 

"I don't recognize you," you countered, shifting your weight as you crossed your arms. It's best not to let him know that you're flustered.

"New in town," he smiled, a cocky grin that told you that he absolutely knew the effect he had on women. It left a bad taste in your mouth. "New Orleans is a big city; I'm surprised you would know everyone."

"I know witches," you said, peering up at him. 

"Ah, are you a magical thing yourself?"

"What do you think?" You arched a brow. He stepped closer, reaching up to twirl a piece of your hair around his finger. You recoiled slightly but didn't pull back. Never show fear; that's one thing this town taught you. 

"I think you're a pretty young thing," he hummed. "I'm Kol." He peered at you as if waiting for you to offer your name. You didn't. 

"Not interested," you pulled back from him, letting the hair he had touched fall back in front of your face. He stepped back into your space.

"I don't know, darling," he smiled, leaning closer so his breath fanned your face. It was minty like he had just had an Altoid. "I think you're interested." You hated admitting that this tall, handsome stranger (such a cliche) was right. And you really hated that if you leaned up slightly, you could feel the warmth from his lips. He stepped back, though, hands in his pockets. The same hands that had used magic to wrangle the undead life of the vampires behind him. You took that as a sign to start to leave, walking backward before turning on your heel and ignoring the gaze of the witch behind you. 

"Never got your name!" He chimed. You smiled to yourself.

"Figure it out yourself."

[2] Cemetery watch

Disgruntled. That's how you felt. Chaos had grown over the past weeks, but you didn't see Kol again. A sliver of disappointment, as you did find him cute, but also a relief. You know enough flirtatious bastards to not want to add more to your life.

You weren't thinking about him today, though. You were thinking about your grandmother, who lived in the cemetery right outside your block. A popular cemetery for Wiccan rituals, it made sense for your grandma (the high priestess of your family) to be buried there with heavy praise. 

You were laying a combination of roses, lavender, and rosemary for protection when the hair on your neck stood up. Feeling a presence, you soon turn around, making eye contact with the stranger who approached you. 

Definitely not a witch; his aura was too dark for that. He was tall, with tousled brown hair and eyes that lingered on you for far too long. He was cute, though, even if he was dangerous.

"Hello darling," he purrs, stalking closer. 

"Can I help you?" You sigh, crossing your arms as you peer at him with suspicion. He wears a cocky smile and a look that tells you he would love to have a taste.

"Don't remember me? I'm hurt," he puts a hand on his chest, feigning pain. You look at him closely, but the only recognition is in the pet name. Darling. Not many people called you darling. 

"Kol," you said. "You're shorter." His face had a hint of shock before settling into amusement. 

"That was uncalled for," he laughed, walking closer to you. In closer proximity, you could see that he was, in fact, very handsome, and he was definitely aware of that. 

"I'm reiterating my previous question, can I help you?"

"When my family sent me on this mission to track down the 'wisest witch in the quarter,' I was not expecting you," he looked down at you with gold-flecked eyes. "The beautiful girl who wouldn't give me her name. Except now I know it's Y/N."

"I thought you were a witch," you took a hesitant step back, trying to create space. 

"Temporarily," he sighed. "Now I'm back in my original form of vampire." The way he said it gave you pause, as if he was resigned to the fact but not happy about it. You could relate. If you lost your magic, you would be devastated. 

"You said something about your family?" you coughed, changing the subject. 

"There's someone working against them, and we would prefer if they don't kill us," Kol shoved his hands in his pockets, looking up at the clouds above. "People tend to hate us, Mikaelsons."

"You're a Mikaelson?" you hissed. It was because of the Mikaelsons your home was in constant disaster. "Why should I help you? Any of you?"

"For the most part, we don't want to cause trouble. It just tends to find us. Helping eliminate a threat means fewer problems in the quarter," Kol sighed, stepping closer. His fingers brushed your cheek, delicate as if touching the grass in a meadow. "Also, you'd get to spend time with me."

"Why would I want to spend time with you?" you breathed, voice wavering slightly. Curse your damn hormones for being swayed by a vampire of all creatures. His thumb came under your chin, allowing him to bring your face closer to his. Kol smelled like fresh snow and evergreens, and you knew that if he leaned a little bit closer, you wouldn't stop him. In the process, likely offend the ghost of your grandmother who was probably rolling her eyes at you right now. Before you could offend all the ancestors with your choices, Kol stepped back, resuming his cocky grin and leaving your breath lodged in your throat. Without a second thought of the implications, you made your decision.

"Fine, I'll help you."

[3] Late night spell-casting

Late nights in the Mikaelson compound meant one thing. Coffee, and lots of it. 

You made a deal with the Mikaelsons after you agreed to help them that in exchange for your time, they had to buy you cafe drinks whenever you liked it. Elijah was the most taken aback, but Kol chuckled as if he found you amusing. Still, they found it a small price, not expecting how much you valued your drinks. Most nights, it was coffee, sometimes tea, or even hot cocoa. Quite honestly, you just liked having the power to make them run around. 

You sat at one of their many couches, a book of shadows in your lap and a notepad in your hands as you made quick notes about possible spells that could combat the evil at hand. A couple of ideas swam in your head, but you wanted to exhaust your options before risking anyone else's life with a botched spell. Still, you had been at it for hours and started getting sleepy. You yawned, feeling your eyes close slightly. Thankfully, footsteps alerting you to the presence of one of the originals had you sitting up and shaking off your fatigue. Unfortunately, that original was Kol with your coffee order. 

Kol was precisely what you thought he would be. Flirtatious, cocky, impulsive, and too attractive for his own good. You hated when murderers were cute; it made life confusing. There were moments, though, when the two of you were performing recon or pouring over spell books that you saw a side of him that only showed when his guard wasn't up. He was calmer, more academic, and a lot more unsure of himself. The only thing you hated about seeing that side is it made you like him more. 

"How's my witchling doing?" he chimed, dropping off your coffee and settling beside you on the couch. You told him that being called darling felt ridiculous, so instead, he found a new nickname, which was even worse. 

"The usual, I suppose," you yawned again, leaning your head against the back of the couch. 

"Take a break."

"You realize it's your life on the line, right?" you huffed, turning to look at him. 

"My life will always be in danger, Y/N," Kol hummed, taking your books out of your lap with a minor protest from you. "That's not going to change tonight."

"Don't underestimate me," you grabbed your cup, taking a deep sip and looking at him over the lid. 

"I would never underestimate you," he grabbed your coffee and stole a sip himself, earning a growl from you. "Half the things you say shock and confuse me."

"It's my charm."

"Let's do something fun," Kol stood up, trying to drag you with him. "Research is bloody boring."

"We have two very different ideas of 'fun,' Mikaelson," you curled up into a ball on the couch, peering up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. An idea sparked in your head, and you turned a devilish smile to the brunette. "How about tarot cards?"

You found an old deck in the compound, creating a space on the table in the central area to lay out the spread. Even though having your cards would be better, you thought you could probably make do with these. You gave Kol the cards to shuffle and watched as he spent meticulous time connecting with the cards before handing the deck back to you. You started laying out the cards on the table, forming a cross with four cards separate on the side. You tucked your legs underneath you, curling up on the floor so you were huddled by the table. Kol joined you, his back against the couch as he peered at you straightening up the cards. 

"You realize you're going to flip them over, right?"

"Shut up, Mikaelson," you chimed, finishing your organization. He watched you with a small smile, and you made the effort to ignore his stare. "We'll start with your Present card."

“Boring,” Kol sing-songed. "Tell me my future."

"I have to go in order, to give an accurate reading."

"Darling, the cards are already laid out; you can do whatever you want," Kol leaned closer to you, squinting his eyes in amusement. "I live my life in futures; who cares about the past?"

Sighing, you decided to obey the nosey vampire and flip over his cards for Future and Near Future. The two cards revealed were the Lovers and Ace of Cups, respectively. 

"In your Future is a strong romantic relationship," you start, pointing out the Lovers card featuring two swans intertwined. "This correlates to the Ace of Cups, which signifies new beginnings. Since the Ace of Cups is in your near future, you'll likely encounter someone you'll soon develop a deep, long-lasting relationship with." You turn your eyes to Kol, raising an eyebrow. "Shocking, considering your personality."

"It's not that shocking," Kol quipped, leaning closer to you. "We're here, aren't we?"

His pupils were enlarged as he gazed upon you, and his glance to your lips told you exactly where his mind was. You couldn't deny you weren't thinking the same thing. It didn't help that Kol was dangerous in an enticing way. Ignoring all rational thought, you leaned in closer, nudging his nose with yours. Your heart was beating erratically, and you heard the sharp intake of breath he took. His fingers traced up your arm, each finger leaving goosebumps in their wake. What were you doing?

"How's the research going?" a voice called from the hallway. You scooted away immediately, but Kol stayed where he was. His jaw clenched as he suppressed a growl. Freya appeared, not aware of the situation and probably not caring anyway. 

"I have a few ideas," you coughed, taking a deep breath to calm your beating heart. 

"Great, I'd love to hear them so I can stop having stressful dreams," Freya chuckled, moving over to the couch. You sent Kol a glance as you passed your journal to Freya. The look he gave you told you that what started wasn't over. And the worst part was you didn't want it to be over. 

[4] Injured after a fight

A headache. That's what you were nursing. 

A sharp ringing pierced through your ears, the lights above you blurring into a bad abstract painting. A figure appeared above you, and you slowly registered that it was calling your name. You squinted your eyes, the action causing a splitting pain as the shape of Kol formed in front of you. Worry creased his brows, and blood splattered his face. 

"Y/N, Y/N, can you hear me?" Kol asked, cradling your head. You nodded, grabbing his arms to help pull yourself up. Chaos was erupting around you, and the stifling smell of magic was enough to knock you out again. That's what had happened. It was an ambush, and despite your abilities, you were blasted back into a wall, probably with a concussion and broken bones. It was times like this when you were envious of a vampire's healing skills. "I need to get you out of here."

"They need our help," you grimaced, catching Klaus ripping off someone's arms in the background. Kol caught your gaze and bothered with a slight smirk. 

"I'm sure Nik is fully capable of handling himself. Plus, my other siblings are here, and Freya called Vincent. They won't miss us."

"I'll be fine," you tried to say, but it ended in a wheeze as the effort of sitting up caused pain in your lungs. 

"You will not. Can you stand?" Kol watched you struggle for a second before picking you up. In a normal situation, you would've complained, but considering all you felt was ow ow ow ow ow you thought better than to complain. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as he sped out of the scene and back to the compound. Kol laid you gently on the couch, kneeling before you, biting into his wrist and holding it to your lips. "You need to drink."

"I don't want to be a vampire," you mumbled, brushing a hand across your forehead. Your fingers held blood on them, and you became dizzy with that knowledge.

"I won't let that happen now, drink," Kol insisted, his voice having a hard edge. Considering he was a stubborn bastard, you relented. You hesitantly grabbed his wrist and brought it up to your mouth. The blood slid down your throat cleanly, but you had to suppress the urge to gag anyway since it was blood. You felt your bones click into place, and your headache dull to a memory. You finally looked up, catching Kol's gaze on you. How was it intensely erotic to have someone watch you drink their blood? There must be therapy for issues like this, but you didn't really care. How he looked at you was akin to a predator waiting to devour its next meal. You knew if you let him, he would fulfill every potential vampire fantasy one could have. He touched your cheek, touching your lips where his blood was just a second ago. He pulled away, red coating his fingers, and you suppressed a groan when he sucked the leftover blood. 

"Kol," you whispered, your voice raspy. He sat up at eye level, leaning down as if to kiss you. Of course, things weren't that easy, as his family burst into the compound right at that moment. You wanted to let out a scream of frustration but ended up being caught off guard by Klaus dropping a head by the entryway. 

"Glad to see our little witch is okay," Klaus chimed, looking pretty proud of himself. If Kol were a cartoon character, he'd blow smoke out of his ears. 

"I'm alive," you sighed. Klaus walked over, ignoring his brother's glares, and patted you on the shoulder. That was the closest thing to the affection you were getting from the hybrid. As the rest of the family delved into a conversation about the ambush, you finally got up and looked at the original kneeling on the ground before you. "We'll finish this later," you smiled, pretending to ignore the slight growl that left Kol's mouth as you walked off. 

[5] Evil has passed

"I thought you would've left."

Kol stood in the entryway of his bedroom at the Mikaelson home while you stood (guilty) by his bookshelf. 

"I was returning this book I borrowed from you," you said innocently. Putting the book back on the shelf, you turned to the man before you, trying his best to plaster on a convincing smile. The threat has passed, your job was over, and yet you were melancholy. These people had caused problems throughout your home since they arrived, yet your temporary alliance ending was something of sadness. You were tired of pretending it was for any reason other than Kol. Kol started as an annoying individual who sought to drive you up the wall, but now was someone you saw a kinship with. Your long talks on history and adventures across the globe were moments where you saw his guard fall, and you loved every second of it. It helped that he was pretty to look at. 

"I guess this means goodbye then, doesn't it witchling?" Kol sighed, shoving his hands in his jeans pockets. You could swear he sounded disappointed, but you didn't want to get your hopes up. 

"Depends," you crossed your arms. "I could be persuaded to come back."

"Persuaded?" Kol inquired, that mischievous glint in his eyes telling you he would ensure a way to keep you around. "Any particular reason?"

"If someone wanted me around, I guess," you smiled, a tiny grin but good enough for Kol to stroll towards you until he towered over your figure. 

"I'll give you a good reason," Kol murmured, a devilish smirk on his lips. "Something that we kept getting interrupted for in the past." He cupped your face in his hands, lowering his lips so they were a hairsbreadth from yours. 

"Don't be a tease," you breathed. Letting out a dark chuckle, he pressed his lips to yours. It was surprisingly light, not hungry like his usual personality. He tasted like a fresh snowstorm and an evergreen forest, and you know you could get drunk on that alone. Wrapping your arms around his torso, you brought him closer to you, deepening the kiss and earning a light groan from the vampire. Kol's hands tangled in your hair, one of them going to hold your waist. Every touch of his was coldfire, and you were so glad that you were finally alone to burn in him. He tilted your head back, leaving open-mouthed kisses along your throat that caused you let out a moan. He nipped the junction of your neck and shoulder, kissing over it until he was back at your lips again, leaving a searing kiss. Kol pulled away, glancing at you with eyes abysmal. "What took you so long to do that?" you breathed, a grin covering your face as Kol laughed, kissing the corner of your mouth. 

"You're all mine now," Kol smiled, kissing you again. "Always and forever."

[waltzingwithyourenemyattheball]

PICK A CARD: LOVE NOTES FROM YOUR FUTURE SPOUSE

Top Left: Pile 1 Top Right: Pile 2 Bottom: Pile 3

Disclaimer: This is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave the rest.

You are not allowed to copy my work under any circumstances.

All personal tarot readings are PAID.

Thank you for all letting me read for you, please provide feedback.

Pile 1

‘We would be a wonderful us’  ‘Workplace romance’ ‘I’ll follow you till the end’ ‘I’m always gonna be in love with you’

You might get text like this: 1. Them: You are beautiful, more than you realise. 2. Them: I’ll make you breakfast. 

Your future spouse and you share a similar sense of humour, you both will be teasing and joking a lot. I see they are into philosophy for some of you, definitely a deep thinker either way, their view of life might intrigue you. This person an you will have many conversations, they will be mentally stimulating to you and get you thinking. Definitely some air sign presence (Gemini, Libra, Aquarius). I see rain is significant, maybe you’ll meet that time but it is coming in strong. Either one of you loves to style hair. I am seeing a man braiding a girl’s hair. It’s the little things about your relationship, spending quality time whenever you can, through thick and thin. They only like you and want you to be verbal in expressing your feelings. They really want to get married to you have an unbreakable bond. 

COMMENT 111 TO CLAIM!

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

Pile 2

‘Hopeless romantic with high standards’  ‘Star-crossed lovers’  ‘You look at each other like the two of you have your own language’ ‘One in simping, the other is oblivious’ - literally everyone else sees it. ‘Are we friends? Or are we more?’

They might say these things to you:

1. I am not supposed to be thinking about you.  3. Why won’t you leave my mind?  4. Wherever I look you are there. 5. Them: fight me for the rest of our lives.

Their heart flutters when you are in close proximity to them. Romantic tension and some awkward moments, with stealing glances and shy smiles. You guys will also have a lot of healthy debates where you disagree and argue, but overtime know how to work things through and are respectful. The transition period from friends to lovers is really being given emphasis here, it’s like everyone else sees it, when you two are together, you forget other people exist. Some of you might even know each other since college or some educational institution. Your love is very pure, only wanting the best for them. It is a slow-burn romance, with hands almost touching but didn’t. You guys are each others safe space, giving a sense of security. 

🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

PILE 3

There are many different messages for this group, take it as it resonates. ‘Enemies to lovers’ ‘Friends to lovers’ ‘Workplace romance’ ‘SO THIS IS LOVE’  ‘Cute nicknames’ - even if you find them cringey right now, with the right person I see you turning into a puddle. ‘I feel lovable when you take care of me’ ‘Talk like best friends’ ‘Power couple’  ‘Someday when I say I am going home, it’ll mean I get to see you and that will make all of everything worth it’ Things they might say to you/text you: 1. You are so cute. 2. Do you wanna go driving? Just me and you. 3. We fix it together, because that’s what a relationship is about, going through life together as a team 4. You are so physically and mentally attractive at the same time, that’s why I am so crazy about you. 5. I only pretend I don’t like you. 6. [ angry whisper ] do you even know how cute you are.  One thing is settled, that they definitely find you attractive. It might start out as dislike which will morph into a friendship of sorts leading to a love connection. You guys love to banter. I see a lot of banter. If you read ‘the hating game’ I get those vibes. They find excuses to spend time with you until they are like I am gonna be honest and be more upfront rather than relying on some external factor. One of you is unconventional and the other finds them interesting and the constant need to be in touch, might also be a therapist of some sort, or just have healing energy. 🌙To know more about your future spouse in detail, DM me for a personal tarot reading🌙

-

EL TAROT

[devilishcupid]

THE KING'S PROPOSAL | Namor

☆ premise: centuries since the calling off of your engagement, namor comes back and proposes once more.

☆ pairing: namor x fem!royal!reader

☆ warnings: romantic history between namor and reader, tension between namor and reader

☆ a/n: genuinely down bad for this man. i love him so much🤧

"Be my queen, and I will be your king."

The room was suddenly filled with the laughs of your advisers. Even you found it amusing. Who knew Namor, the Feathered Serpent God, would be in standing in the middle of your throne room right now, proposing an alliance between your kingdom and his through marriage?

After all, not only did your kingdom have a bloody history with Talokan—you and Namor had history yourselves. Centuries ago, you were old flames whose relationship's end nearly caused a civil war between your nations.

"If I may speak, my queen," one of your advisers appealed. Giving your nod of approval, she turned to the Talokanil King. "Attempts to form an alliance didn't work the first time. In fact, it only ended up dividing us further. Why should her majesty accept your proposal a second time?"

Your eyes narrowed at the steely glint in Namor's eyes. "Because if you don't, a time will come where your people will regret not having Talokan by its side."

The room became quiet as tension filled the air. Millions of thoughts ran through your head. What were his intentions? What did Talokan have that your people did not? Was there truth behind his words? Or was he merely bluffing?

Finally, you spoke. "Leave me with him."

Your advisers were about to protest, but your glare silenced them into submitting to your command. Namor's own advisers, Attuma and Namora, followed suit after a nod of approval from their king. With the last person closing the doors shut, it was only you and Namor in the throne room.

You descended from your throne, your footsteps echoing until you stood in front of your former flame. Looking up at him, you said, "This is the first time we've met since the unfortunate calling off of our engagement, and the first thing you do is threaten me under my own roof."

"Whether my words are a threat or an act of good faith will depend on whether or not you accept my proposal for marriage."

"What you just did was asking for my hand in marriage? You've gotten more romantic since we last met, Namor." You remarked, sarcasm dripping from your words.

A low chuckle left his lips in response. "And you're still the same as always, In yakunaj."

Your eye twitched at the term of endearment he used to reserve for you. "If you think you can charm me into marrying you, I assure you it won't work."

"It did the first time." He quipped, an eyebrow raised suggestively.

"Yet it ended disastrously, did it not?" You shot back, before returning back to your former demeanor. "What do you really want, Namor? We don't make contact for years and now you want me to marry you and unite our kingdoms. Why?"

"Talokan has shown itself to Wakanda," Namor revealed, as your eyes widened at the revelation, "and we have formed an alliance that will be of great help when war arrives."

"Strengthening your nation in preparation for battle. So that's why you've come." You concluded, sighing and shaking your head. "Did we not decide that the surface dwellers will end up killing each other anyway? That we will watch those fools burn without us having to light the fire?"

He scoffed at your words. "That would be true, if they hadn't gotten stronger. I wouldn't had revealed my people's existence to Wakanda if the surface world hadn't threatened Talokan's safety."

Namor leaned into you, one hand gently taking your chin between his thumb and forefinger, while the other rested on your waist. "And I wouldn't be here if your safety hadn't been threatened as well."

You gulped, your chest heaving as you stared at him. The two of you were completely silent, save for the sounds of your breathing, neither of you breaking eye contact.

You caught yourself leaning closer to his face, and you immediately pulled away from his grasp. You turned your back to him, cheeks tinged red from how close you were to kissing him. Even after all these years, he still had the same effect on you.

"I won't accept your offer. Not now, at least." You said after composing yourself. You turned around to face him once more. "I'll consider your proposal, but I can't promise my nation's compliance."

"Then I'll leave you to deliberate, your majesty." Namor handed you a large shell, which you recognized as a Talokanil communication device. "Tell me of your decision as soon as you have made it."

You nodded, and Namor headed towards the exit. He stopped in his tracks when he reached the doors, making you raise an eyebrow. "What is it, Namor?"

"I was right. You haven't changed one bit."

"What made you reach that conclusion?"

"It's been years yet making you fall for me still is no hardship."

[morning-star-joy]

tarnished but so grand (Regency!Joel x F!Reader)

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, Regency AU

Premise (by @dreamofpeppermints): tommy and maria lead a jovial existence in the countryside, but the appearance of tommy’s brother causes a stir in society with the dark rumors swirling around his reputation, some due to his standoffish demeanor and some due to the mysterious parentage of his rambunctious young ward miss williams

Warnings: Inferences to sexual tension/lust, forbidden relationship vibes, age gap (Joel early 50s, Reader late 20s)

A/N: Ty em for enabling my regency!Joel idea and giving me muse to write what was never supposed to be written (how dare you give me this brain rot ilysm)

Wordcount: 817

Mr. Miller was very much off-limits.

Nevermind the fact that the mysterious appearance of the man was followed by a cacophony of rumors at his heels—most of which revolved around the young woman who quite literally stayed on said heels.

No, it wasn’t the daunting whispers that surrounded the stoic gentleman—if he could ever be regarded as such, given his standoffish, abruptly gruff nature if anybody dared to approach him for fruitless conversation he wouldn’t bother contributing to—that made him unapproachable.

Nor was it even the questions of parentage of the girl in his care—an illegitimate daughter, perhaps? Mr. Miller had disappeared from the town for near-on twenty years, so to suddenly show up at his younger brother’s doorstep with a ward who had just recently come of age sowed many doubts of his reputation through the nosy neighbors of this small section of society that resided in the countryside.

None of these things, not even the man’s apparent lack of concern for court, were what branded Mr. Miller as being very, very unavailable.

What labeled him as being somebody you should stay far, far away from, was how he looked at you.

The first time you felt the heavy weight of Mr. Miller’s dark gaze was from across a crowded room.

To nobody’s surprise, the surly man had come into the habit of keeping himself as far away from the happenings of court as he could, holding up the wall from where he loitered at the edge of irritatingly extravagant rooms.

You were much of the same opinion as he—the only reason you attended these events was for the benefit of your younger sister and her closest friend, the two girls having just officially joined society, with stars in their eyes and high hopes of whirlwind romances that you were determined not to let them be swept away in.

Standing on the sidelines on the opposite side of the room, you felt the intensity of his eyes before you even saw them, eliciting a sensation of trembling unease that settled deep into your bones and rattled you completely.

And when you couldn’t resist any longer, giving up on ignoring whoever was staring at you so intently and lifting your gaze to meet their eyes—

Oh.

Your eyes met dark brown, a color so dark it was nearly black from this distance. It greatly suited his dour demeanor, enhancing the way you had caught mere glimpses of him scanning ballrooms with a severely furrowed brow, lips downturned in distaste at the frivolity of society.

But now those eyes were settled on you, watching you, completely picking you apart in a way that was not borderline scandalous, but still somehow entirely indecent.

It was a look that made your chest tighten, breath catching in your throat as you steadied your grip on the glass in your hand. 

Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you knew you should look away.

Best to play the ingénue; flutter your eyelashes and glance away to show submission, subsequently turning away his cold judgment and maybe finding the interest of another, suitable member of the court to distract you from how Mr. Miller made you feel from his eyes alone.

But that flare of a stubborn streak reared its ugly head inside of you, and you straightened, squaring your shoulders back as you met his gaze straight-on.

Your eyes didn’t waver, your own lips pulling down into the smallest of frowns as you refused to be the first to look away, not wanting to lose this battle that he had picked by staring at you so.

But he didn’t back down either. 

No, Mr. Miller simply raised the glass in his hand, taking a long sip from the dark wine before lowering it from his lips, giving you a glimpse of his tongue swiping along them to collect the last drops of the sweet drink—because you knew it was sweet, you had been drinking the same wine from your own glass and oh, no.

Heat like you had never felt before surged through you then, coursing in your veins and setting you ablaze, but you still refused to be the one to back down.

And so you witnessed that Mr. Miller’s deeply furrowed brow was not, in fact, permanently fixed on his face when he arched one of those dark eyebrows towards you and—

A trembling sigh escaped your lips as you suddenly felt that heat pool somewhere else; aching, throbbing, and you quickly looked away, eyes scanning the room for something, anything else to occupy your mind as you felt your heart hammer against your ribcage.

You knew then that what made Mr. Miller truly dangerous, what made him somebody that you would have to fight tooth and nail to stay away from, was how much you wanted him.

No, not even that.

It was how much he wanted you.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fear Of The Known

Lucifer x Fem!Angel!Reader

|Chapter Thirteen|

The room fell silent, a thick tension filled the room as everyone looked to each other. No one knew how to respond to this, no one knew what to say. For Heaven's sake, they hardly believed it!

"A sinner? A sinner made it into Heaven?" God mutters. "Who?"

"His name is Sir. Pentious, your Heavenly Grace."

Y/n failed to hold back her gasp. Sir. Pentious? The very same who was killed in the recent extermination. The one Charlie had allowed into her hotel for the chance to be redeemed? He made it into Heaven...

The hotel, Charlie's plan, it works...

"Y/n?" Michael looks to her. "Is something wrong?" All eyes were on her now.

Y/n couldn't have been happier for Charlie. But then again, she felt not everyone would feel the same. She swallowed a lump in her throat before speaking.

"I...I did see a future where Princess Morningstar's redemption plan would work. H-However, it was a very rare possibility. This has never happened before. For a demon to enter Heaven's gate, with a clean soul. I-It's unheard of! It's impossible! I..." Y/n didn't know what to say.

Michael looked to God. "What shall we do about this?"

God took a moment to think before finally coming to a conclusion. "I would like to speak with this...Sir. Pentious, personally. Then, I will decide if further action is needed."

"You are excused." God waves his hand at the angel in the doorway.

The angel bowed their head before swiftly leaving the room.

"Y/n." God looks to her.

Y/n jumped slightly before straightening up and spoke as calmly as she could. "Yes?"

"What will become of this? That sinner, is he to be trusted?" Everyone else was wondering the exact same thing. Never since the beginning of Heaven and Hell's creation, had a demon ever pass Heaven's gates.

No demon has even gotten the chance to gaze upon the gates. And now, one has passed divine judgment. He was a demon no more. He was an angel.

Y/n closed her eyes and looked into the future. She saw Sir. Pentious doing his best to adjust to his new life. He would of course be sadden by the absence of his friends.

But he would adjust eventually. He would begin a new life here, as an angel.

However, those who knew of his past sins would not be as accepting as those who were blissfully unaware. They would not trust him. And one, would tear away his wings. Not to send him back to the pits of Hell, but to erase him from existence all together.

Lute.

Y/n knew it. There was no way Lute would ever let go of her hatred of demons.

Y/n could not let Lute kill Sir. Pentious. Not after all the hard work Charlie has done. Besides from that, Sir. Pentious obviously earned his place in Heaven.

Lute had no right to take that away from him.

And as long as Y/n could help it, Lute would never get the chance.

"Sir. Pentious will not cause any problems. However, it might be for the best to keep Lute away from him. If she were to see him, it will enrage her. She will stop at nothing to kill Sir. Pentious."

"So, Lute can't let go of her aggression either?" Michael sighed. "I'm not surprised."

"How exactly are we going keep Lute away from him? She's bound to figure out eventually." Asked Leo.

"I propose we keep Sir. Pentious away from the public eye." Said Galim. "At least, until we are sure Lute will adjust to a a new life, free from violence. Perhaps in time, she will move on and forgive."

"So be it." God nods. "Thank you all for your time, dismissed."

Michael walked Y/n home after the meeting. "I still can't believe it." Michael says. "A sinner made it into Heaven. In all my years of existence, I'd never thought I'd see the day." He looked over to Y/n, who was smiling.

"I can't believe it either. But, I'm glad it did happen. Charlie's plan really does work. A sinner can be redeemed after all." Y/n couldn't wait to tell Charlie. She'll be over the moon to know.

"It certainly is...something." Michael mutters. Y/n looks to him, her smile faltering. "You don't seem very thrilled."

"It's not that." Michael shakes his head. "It's just...Odd. Hell was created for those who did evil deeds in life. It was suppose to be forever, an eternal punishment. But for that one sinner, it seems it was only a temporary punishment."

"He's not a sinner anymore. He's proved himself worthy of his angel wings. I saw it all happen." Said Y/n. "In my visions, I mean." She quickly added. "I saw him defending his friends from the exorcists. Risking his own life, so that the people he cared about could have a chance to see another day."

Y/n's smile returned. "If that isn't a reason enough to be accepted in Heaven, then I don't know what is."

Michael smiled a bit. "Yeah. It seems that Sir. Pentious isn't so bad after all. But, I still think we should keep an eye on him. Just in case."

The two arrived at Y/n's home. Before the parted, they wished each other good night.

Y/n walked inside of her home. She couldn't wait until tonight. Y/n knew it was risky going back to Hell so soon. But she just couldn't wait any longer to tell Charlie the news.

So, she would wait until later tonight.

When night finally fell upon Heaven, Y/n excitedly hurried to her bedroom and opened a portal back to Hell.

This time she made sure to open it to Lucifer's castle. Y/n entered the portal and stepped into the long corridor of the castle's entry. She called out Lucifer's name as she made her way deeper into the castle.

Eventually she passed that same room again, the one filled to the brim with piles upon piles of ducks. The door was open just enough for her to hear the sounds of tinkering.

Y/n peaked her head in and saw Lucifer hunched over a workbench. She knocked at the door softly, as not to startle him. However, she ended up doing the complete opposite.

"Ah!" Lucifer yelped, accidently tossing up the duck he had in his hand. He turned his attention to the door just in time for it to come back down on his head, a light "squeak" coming from the duck as it did so.

"Sorry! Sorry! I didn't mean to scare you!" Y/n apologized as she opened the door further. Lucifer put a hand to his chest with a wheeze. "Jeeze Y/n, you...y-you're back!" Lucifer stood, his once shaken demeanor, now bright and cheerful.

Y/n giggle as you approached him. "I'm back." She smiles. "And I have wonderful news!"

"Oh really? What is it?" Lucifer asks.

"Charlie's hotel, her plan for redeeming sinners, it works!" Y/n tells him, slightly bouncing on her heels. Lucifer's jaw nearly met the floor. "I-It does!? How do you know?"

"Sir. Pentious, the one who died defending the hotel, he made it into Heaven!"

"That's..." Lucifer was at a loss for words. "T-That's amazing! I knew my little girl could do it!"

"I can't wait to tell her!" Y/n cheers. Then Y/n's eyes caught sight of a clock on a near by wall. "Goodness, is it that late already?" It was nearly midnight. "I suppose I should wait until the morning." She laughs softly.

Lucifer looked at the clock as well. "Hm. Guess so. You think you can make it? You look really excited." He smirks.

"I'm just so happy for her." Y/n tells him. "She really wanted this, she worked so hard, and now, her dreams are coming true." Lucifer's smile soften. "I'm happy for her too. She really does deserve this. She deserves all the good life has to offer."

"Are you two getting along?" Y/n asks. Lucifer nods. "Yeah. And boy am I glad for it. I missed my little girl. In fact, I decided to move into the hotel, so we can be even closer."

"Really?" Y/n asks. "Yep. I have almost everything ready to be moved over. I'll officially moved in tomorrow. But uh, I have to admit. I'm little...nervous about this whole thing."

Y/n glanced over at a settee couch at the other side of the room. She held out her hand, Lucifer didn't hesitate to take it. "What has you so nervous?" Y/n asks as she guides him to the chair, clearing off a few ducks before sitting down.

"Well...It's been years since me and Charlie have really connected. Actually, we haven't quite been a real family for a long time. Even before Lilith...left." Lucifer says, eyes downcast. "Sure, we had good times, but, as the years went by...I became more and more distant. I wasn't even sure I was doing it until it was too late to try and fix things."

Y/n stayed quiet as Lucifer spoke, her heart breaking at the sound of sadness in his voice.

"Lilith leaving...that's what really broke me I guess. I never left this castle, I barely spoke to my daughter, I became an absolute wreck. I completely ruined my relationship with the only family I had left." Lucifer eyes glossed over with tears.

"B-But...now that Charlie is back in my life, now that we have the chance to start over and be a family again. I just don't want to mess it up, I want to be the father she deserves. And not some pathetic old looser who wastes his life away."

Y/n put her hand on his, her other reaching for Lucifer's face, gently turning his head up to look at her. "Lucifer. You're going to do just fine. I know you will, you have nothing to worry about." She says softly.

"Heh, your future vision tell you that?" Lucifer weakly laughs. Y/n shakes her head. "No. I don't need to look into the future to know that you will be alright. The fact that you want to make a change for your daughter is telling enough. You're going to do great."

Lucifer felt a few tears roll down his cheeks, he reached for Y/n and pulled her into close in an embrace. "I hope so..."

Y/n pats his back. "I know so." She whispers.

The two pulled away after a moment, Y/n looked back to the workbench. "What were you working on this time?" She asks. Lucifer shrugs. "Ah, nothing ground breaking. Just the usual."

"The usual is pretty good if you ask me." Y/n says as she picks up a duck by her foot. She holds it up, looking over it as she speaks. "I still have the one you gave me. I'm considering it my good luck charm from now on."

Lucifer raises an eyebrow. "A good luck charm?"

"Yes. It was good luck I found my way to you after all these years." Y/n says, her gaze on the duck in her hand softening. "I'm going to treasure it forever. I don't think I'll ever look at a duck again without thinking of you. Such a fitting animal, a duck. They're so cute, funny..." Y/n glances at Lucifer. "Precious."

"You talk about it like it's something spectacular." Lucifer mutters, a little flustered by her praise.

"It is." Said Y/n, putting down the duck to focus solely on him. "Lucifer, you may not believe it to be true, but you have done and can still do amazing things. I don't think you've lost your ability to create things beyond anyone's wildest imagination. I mean, you had a part in rebuilding your daughter's hotel. And it looks even better than before!"

"Y/n..."

"I mean it Lucifer. Even all this..." Y/n motions her hand to the ducks around the room. "Is telling of how imaginative you can be. You've hit a wall, sure. But you'll overcome it. Because the Lucifer I know, wouldn't let anything or anyone stop him from reaching his goals."

Lucifer was left speechless, he just stared at Y/n for a brief moment before turning his gaze away from her. "Maybe before, but...I'm not the same as I was then. That was so long ago, before I fell from Heaven, before I was trapped here and forced to watch as my gift to humanity go to waste."

Lucifer's eyes shut tightly, a slight angered expression in his features. "Seeing those sinners use that gift for the worst, day after day, for thousands and thousands of years...Hell has ruined me for the worst. I'm not the same Lucifer you knew when we were young."

"Can you honestly look at me, and say I haven't changed?" His eyes opened, only to reveal deep red eyes looking into her own. Y/n once remembered a time he had the most beautiful sapphire eyes that twinkled when the light hit them just right.

"I can." Y/n says simply.

But ruby eyes were just as beautiful, and they shined just as bright.

"Hell has changed you physically, yes." Y/n's hands find his once again, she held them tightly but gently. "You may take on as many forms as you can, but it's still you. In your heart, you are still the fantastic dreamer I knew from day one."

"Y-You really believe that?" Lucifer's voice cracked. Y/n moves one hand to his cheek, pulling him in until her forehead meets his gently, her eyes coming to a close. "I know that." She tells him.

Lucifer eyes fluttered close as well, his shoulders went limp. "Y/n...I don't know how I lived as long as I have without you."

A pained smile grew on Y/n's face. "You could say the same for me."

Y/n would have given anything to see him just one more time, even if for a second. It killed her to know he was gone, but it hurt worse to know, that even thought he was right here...

He was still so far away.

And Lucifer felt the exact same way for her. Here you were, right in front of him, and yet, it would not last. Soon you would be gone, back in Heaven where you belonged.

Worlds apart, the two would yearn for each other's presence each and very miniscule moment of their lives.

But right now, he had her. And he would make the most of it.

"Do you have somewhere to be tomorrow?" Lucifer asks, backing away from her slightly. Y/n shakes her head. "No, there isn't any meetings in the morning. Why do you ask?"

"Well I...wait. Meetings?" Lucifer asks.

"Oh uh, yeah. I'm apart of God's council now." Y/n laughs lightly. Lucifer's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Yeah, I'm sure that's what I looked like when I was asked to join." Y/n mutters. "Anyway, what were you asking?"

"O-Oh uh, just wondering if you wanted to stay the night. It's late and you're more than welcomed here. I-I mean, I know it would take nothing to just portal back to Heaven b-but I-"

"Lucifer?"

"Y-Yes?"

Y/n's smile soften. "I'd love to."

Tags-

@bloody-delusion-expert

@simbalioness

@annybah

@alientee

@yourmom132

@voxrei

@hotbabe1999

@yui-onnero

@divineknightmare

@just-a-simpe

@animecrazy76

[hyperfixated-gvf]

Stroke Me

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Reader | Rated Explicit | Words: 6.3k

Warnings: Language, smut, handjobs, edging, oral sex (m. receiving), fingering, unprotected sex, m. sub kinda

Summary: Danny comes home from tour with a newfound kink and finally gets the chance to try it out with you.

Author's Note: Uhh...so, about a month and a half after I said I would have this to you guys...ta da?

18+ / MINORS DNI

~~~

The domestic bliss of ‘just home from tour’ was one of the only good things about Danny being gone for so long, so often. Sure, you were grateful that he was doing what he loved with people he loved. Yes, it was cool that he got to see the world and then play for more people who loved him.

But when you were stuck at home at night, unable to call him because of time differences and so, so lonely, you found yourself thinking of days and nights exactly like this one.

You had both woken with the sun, no alarms, and had breakfast in your pajamas. After that? You’d put on a record and cleaned the house up a bit, then spent the rest of the day doing nothing at all, with nowhere to be, no one to talk to about band stuff, and no distractions from simply existing in the same space again. 

Now, showered and ready for bed again, Danny approached you from behind as you were shutting a dresser drawer, his strong arms tightening around you as he gently swayed you to an inaudible rhythm. Smiling as you overlaid your hands with his, you willfully relaxed back, turning your head into him to take a deep breath. “Hey, handsome.”

This part of existing in the same space again was another blessing. On most of those lonely nights, you simply wished for him to be there to hold you, for his weight to create the familiar dip in the mattress that, when absent, made you feel like you were sleeping off-kilter. But on some nights…just being in the same time zone to hear his voice rumble through the line and talk you through your loneliness would have been enough.

“Hello, beautiful,” he murmured in your ear, holding you flush against him. 

You were so close that you felt the slight tension in his abdomen that he held when he was a little nervous about something. Squeezing him where you held his forearms, you craned your head to look at him softly. “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t hesitate before nodding. “Yeah…yeah, I was just– I was wondering if maybe you’d be up to try something a little different tonight.”

Already assuming that he meant in bed, all of the filthy possibilities that sprang up in your mind dried your throat out and redistributed the wetness to another part of your body. Nodding enthusiastically, you turned around, cupping Danny’s jaw in your hands as you smiled and teased, “Of course, baby. But, I have to know…my dirty boy didn’t make the TSA agents rummage through chains and whips, did he?”

Danny rolled his eyes playfully, clicking his tongue as he answered, “Damn, you caught me. I knew the rattling in my suitcase would give me away when I got home.”

You laughed and leaned in to kiss him, your lips lingering much longer than you had intended them to. By the time you took them back, Danny’s wide palms were already splayed against your back and inching underneath your pajama top, which you had been fully aware would be taken off immediately when you’d slipped it on, but the act of undressing each other in these early homestay days never got old. “Well, with the way I attacked you as soon as you’d set foot in the doorframe, you could have had a siren going off in there and I wouldn’t have noticed.”

Danny nipped at your cheekbone and led you back towards the bed. “It’s an attack I’ll never grow tired of, believe me.”

Letting Danny scoot you both up towards the bed frame, you trailed a fingertip through the thatch of chest hair he’d been growing, thinking about moving to straddle him fully but deciding the muscle of his thigh was a very nice pressure point for you. “Well, if it’s not chains and whips, what is this new thing, then? You’ve got my full attention.”

“Um…” Danny seemed to grow bashful for a second, and he fiddled with the waistband of your sleep shorts to avoid looking at you. “It’s just something that I– I dunno, found out that I really like this past tour.”

You raised your brows, running through anything glaringly obvious but coming up with nothing, because you’d already watched him jerk himself off (many times, with the help of FaceTime for when you were several states away from each other), and you knew he hadn’t cheated on you. The only other thought that came to mind was anal play, and while the two of you had discussed it before, it wasn’t something he would have begun to experiment with on his own.

“You’ve stumped me.”

Danny put his hand to your hips and used his tour muscle to drag your center up the meat of his thigh and then off. “I’ll show you,” he decided. “Come on– clothes off.”

Giggling at his inability to voice his newfound kink, you did as he said, taking off your own clothes this time and biting your lip when you found Danny laid bare before you after your shirt was gone. The man was far too pretty for his own good, and every time he allowed you to see him like this, you fell more in love. 

“My god, you’re sexy,” you whistled appreciatively, and Danny cracked a grin as he pawed your ass.

“Takes one to know one.” Both of you huffed out a laugh at your cheesy banter, but you soon fell serious as Danny took himself in hand, captivating your full attention. After a few seconds, he met your eyes briefly. “You wanna come and get me wet, pretty baby?” he sighed, his words firmly setting the mood as he tilted his head back to rest on the headboard and he tugged his cock slowly, still dry and frictious. 

“Anything for you.” Instead of reaching for the lube in the nightstand drawer, you stroked the creases of his hips and centered yourself so that you had a bird’s-eye view of his movement before allowing some saliva to drip down.

Bullseye.

Danny hummed gratefully and worked it under his palm, stroking himself to full-mast quickly. Waiting for further direction, you let him touch himself quietly, the slicker sounds of his precum introduced soon after he worked up a firm tug, the skin of his cock pulling with each stroke of his hand. 

“This is what I did,” he said tightly, one leg twitching as he picked up his pace. You began to wonder what this new thing was, but even just watching while he was within your reach was enough to make you reach down and stick your thumb out so that you could grind your clit against it subtly, not wanting to distract Danny from whatever he wanted to do. “Every night, Y/N, I couldn’t help but think about you. I thought I’d be blind by the end of tour.”

You let out a breathless chuckle, trying not to imagine your boyfriend masturbating furiously over the tour bus toilet under the guise of a nightly piss so that the others wouldn’t have to hear anything. He’d admitted before that all four boys knew in the back of their heads that the others were doing the five-finger shuffle on the bus every so often – if only because they themselves were, too – but they’d all chosen to invest in higher-quality privacy curtains that blocked out more noise and had agreed early on that the bluetooth speaker playing sleep sounds stayed on all night for courtesy’s sake.

“Well, we already know that it’s true when they say your other senses heighten when one is taken away. Imagine the fun we could have if you did,” you rasped, unable to keep your eyes off the way his tip peeked through the hole at the top of his fist, his head wet and shiny. In no world were blowjobs the most enticing thing in the world, but Danny somehow made your mouth water every time like a Pavlovian dog.

At this point, you were getting ready to push his hand aside and have your way with him, not willing to wait until he recovered, because that was the direction he was aiming for– at least, from what his body was telling you– but as soon as you decided ‘too much, I need to touch,’ Danny abruptly let himself go and flattened his palm out on the mattress as his toes curled and thighs flexed.

“Oh god,” he hissed, voice cracking as his eyes fluttered closed. The way his dick was jumping said that just a little bit more would have pushed him over the edge, and you were only too happy to get him there. You’d have to specify later what was so new about this, but right now, you had laser focus on your boyfriend’s hard cock, honing in and intending to hear him cry out your name. But, as your hand was reaching for him, Danny peeled his eyes open and caught your wrist, preventing you from obtaining your prize. “No! Wait, wait, if you touch me, I’ll cum.”

You cocked a brow at him and hesitantly shuffled forward. “Yeah, I know. Did…you want to cum inside of me or something?” That could have been what he was talking about, since it was something you’d only just begun letting him do more now that you were on a new form of birth control.

But he shook his head again, even as his dick twitched at the offer. “No. I don’t…want to cum yet. I actually wanna do it again.”

Finally, it clicked, and you could have kicked yourself for being so oblivious. Edging. He’d figured out that he liked to edge himself on tour.

You met his eyes, heavy with his lust and now with yours as well, and you knew that he could see the understanding. With a big breath at your silent, encouraging nod, Danny took himself back in hand and started to pump once more.

“Here, let me make it a little easier.” As you leaned forward as you had before, you slid your hands further up his thighs, so close to his groin that his right hand hit your wrist on every downstroke. 

He groaned as your spit hit the head of his cock again. “Thanks, baby,” he croaked.

While you were sorely tempted to join him and begin touching yourself, you wanted this to be about him, since Danny obviously had an idea of how he wanted the night to go down. So, you stayed glued to him, but let him direct the scene, which was all entirely fine by you. That meant you were free to appreciate him – the way he blinked rapidly in an attempt to keep his eyes open, the way he took in sharp breaths when he began climbing up the ledge again, the scrunch of his knee, as if his entire body was trying to protect itself from the impending denial.

It was less abrupt this time. Danny didn’t seem to be at his peak when he stopped stroking himself, but he gulped and fixed you with his eyes, pupils so dark and dilated that you felt the call of the void to fall into them and never come out. “Want a turn?” he rumbled, voice deep and gritty with arousal.

“Hell yes,” you answered quickly, moving in to kiss him fervently before scooting in closer and placing a hand high on his thigh, scraping lightly with your nails and watching him shudder beneath your touch. “I’ve done this enough that I have faith in my ability to know when you’re close,” you told him with a small smile as you laid out your plan for Danny’s approval. You wanted him to have the greatest edging experience of his life, if that was what he wanted – he deserved everything, and you were willing to spoil him often because he did the same to you. “But do you still want to be the one to tell me when to stop? Think you can handle that?”

Danny groaned lowly, squeezing his eyes shut to ward off any premature notions his body might have entertained at the thought that this was real and happening and it was you doing it instead of himself. At least, that’s what you assumed, because you were feeling the exact same way.

“Yeah, I think I can do that,” he agreed breathlessly. “You can go ahead and start touching me; I’m good for now.” 

God, that was an understatement. He was phenomenal. Hard and thick in your hand when you gave him one last kiss and then wrapped your fingers around him, his pronounced ridge glided along your palm as you stroked him – up, down, up, twist, thumb across his slit. Danny looked so serene as you pumped his cock in your hand, his fingers flexing against the sheets and his ragged breaths the only indicators that you were jerking him off until you leaned closer to him, running your fingers up his midsection and chest lovingly.

You hummed, feeling warm skin, tense muscle, and eventually goosebumps as you stroked across his shoulder and down his arm. The double, rather paradoxical sensations sent Danny’s hips careening in your touch, the tip of his dick peeking from the space in your fist, which was drying out at an alarming rate, and with such a dry mouth as you had, you didn’t have much spit left to give. 

“Baby,” you said softly, loosening up your grip, “I’m gonna grab the lube, okay?” 

Danny nodded, watching you stretch to the nightstand drawer to retrieve the tube you two kept there. As you slicked your fist up with the substance, he lazily ran his thumb up his cock, stroking lightly just underneath the head. 

You tilted your head as you used one hand to stabilize yourself and help get you back to your spot at his side, where he took his hand away so that you could give him a quick stroke up to coat his skin. “How did you figure out you like this?” you asked softly, a small quirk of your lips playing at the corners of your mouth as he reacted to your subtle start – a harder, faster pace than you’d previously been stroking him with.

Danny’s jaw twitched, but you watched as he consciously relaxed most of his body. “I told you – felt like I was jerking off more nights than not, and then, one night, I just…didn’t want to stop thinking about you. Every night that I thought about you while I got myself off, I didn’t want to stop,” he sighed, gently rolling his hips into you again. With the way his dick kept twitching and leaking every so often, you were anticipating his breathy, ‘stop,’ any second now. “Just when I thought I was getting to the good part of the fantasy, you’d do something even better, and I didn’t want it to end.” His voice was strained and his words were fast, as if he were trying to squeeze them out before a timer went off and his window to tell you evaporated.

Keeping the pace up, you bent down to roll your tongue over his nipple before looking up at him. “Am I doing ‘fantasy me’ justice?”

Instead of using his words, Danny’s stomach clenched and he shot up, tightly grabbing your wrist and halting all movement as his face screwed up and he fought with his own body not to fuck into your hand again. “Yes! Yes, I– shit–shit, I was…that was close,” he said tightly, trying to reign himself in. 

You knew that, and you’d have taken him across the finish line if he hadn’t backtracked right at the last moment.

Once your hand was a safe distance away from him, Danny flopped back onto the pillows and blew out a shaky breath. “I don’t think I have enough imagination to think up a fantasy that could be better than having you here,” he said, taking your non-lubed up hand in his.

You snorted gently, blushing in the low light of the lamps, but still affectionately said, “You big cheeseball.”

Mesmerized with the way his stomach tensed and his chest heaved with his little chuckle, you put your mouth to his skin and hummed all the way up his throat, finally able to mark it up without him texting you that the makeup team harumphed at him again because of it. Danny quickly pulled your mouth to his, drinking from you desperately, and fumbled for your hand, wrapping his around when he found it, and brought both of you back to his cock, apparently already rearing to be touched once more. 

“Together this time,” he murmured against your lips. 

To you, there was no losing, no matter which way you did it. But this way, you still felt the warm, velvety skin of his dick in your hand along with his own firm palm guiding you up and down again all while trading wet, hot, open-mouthed kisses and listening to Danny’s breath hitch and catch. It was an interesting change – it faintly registered in your foggy mind that feeling Danny’s own pace and rhythm was a learning opportunity, but you were far too distracted to actually learn anything.

Even under his complementary grip, you had your free will to do anything you wanted, and you took advantage of that after a few minutes, tightening your grip and making his thighs contract unconsciously as you pulled at him for one rough stroke.

“God, baby,” he hissed between clenched teeth, brows pulled in and eyes shut tight at your rough handling of precious goods. “Oh fuck…fuck, Y/N, you gotta warn me next time.”

“Mm. I know you can take it, don’t lie to me,” you teased. You had an intimate knowledge of Danny’s kinks and limits, including that he liked it just a tad bit rough sometimes, and you highly suspected the only reason he was chastising you was because he didn’t want the game to be over quite yet.

He let out what was more of a wheeze as you kept pumping your hand up and down his cock, still steadily leaking as he got closer. You switched to a flat-handed rub that allowed your fingertips to trace and tickle the sensitive skin of his balls, and he was soon squirming and kicking, pushing shakily at your hand. “Stop! I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna– I’m…” his babble petered out into a low, tortured groan as you gave him reprieve from your touch, and he was left with nothing.

“Do you want to keep going?” you asked softly, wanting to check in on how he was feeling. He looked painfully hard right now, and you’d never seen his cock move so much on its own, jumping around on his stomach and leaving sticky trails of lube and precum that dotted the neat line of hair there. The rest of his body was rather shiny, as well, a light sheen of sweat reflecting dully in the lamplight and making him glow beautifully. 

This was hot – so hot – but the last thing you wanted to do was push him past his limits. Sadism wasn’t something you were particularly keen on, and the way his hand shook slightly as he groped for any part of your body that he could reach sure began to feel like it. You were hungry for his release – salivating over it now that it was being denied.

Danny finally caught your forearm, and stroked his thumb across it just to feel your skin under his. “Fuck, yes. This is the hottest thing and I’m not quite done with it yet,” he promised, both to you and himself. “Slowly now.” At his command, you returned your hand to his dick, but you only glided down his shaft once before he tensed and flinched away. “Wait–” You stopped in your tracks and shifted your eyes from your hand to his eyes, brows raised expectantly. He sluggishly blinked his own open and sheepishly huffed, “My bad, I…wasn’t as ready as I thought I was.”

His admission made you clench, mind wandering to what would have happened if you would have kept stroking him once, twice, three more times before you registered his time-out – the way his eyes would have scrunched shut, and his tongue would have peeked out from between his teeth, and his hips would have bucked, your name on his lips between each desperate, choked moan as he came, hot and viscous, across your hand and himself because he couldn’t stop it–

“Okay, I think I’m ready this time. Slow. Very slow.”

Realizing that you’d been staring blankly at his lips while you got ahead of yourself, Danny’s words shook you out of the daydream, returning you to the present where Danny was waiting for you to lavish him with attention again.

“Like this?” you asked demurely, teasingly dragging your fingertips up his shaft at a snail’s pace. Danny’s expression twitched, and you could feel a twitch from his dick that echoed it. “This slow enough? Light enough? Come on, Danny, tell me how you want it,” you implored, wanting him to lose it – you wanted him to grip your hand and keep it there as he fucked into your fist to completion, wanted him to bat it out of the way so that he could sloppily finish himself off, wanted him to beg you to bring him past his peak or take it forcefully.

Danny took a deep, grounding breath, and recollected himself despite your instigations, though, and met your heavy gaze with his own. How he was coherent at this point, you weren’t sure – had it been you in his situation, you were certain that you’d have been begging for release before this point, but…perhaps that was a hypothesis to be explored later.

“You want me to tell you? I thought you said you’d know,” he answered languidly, still fighting to retain his composure just as he was fighting to retain his pleasure. “But I can, if that’s what you want.” He hummed and wrapped his hand around the back of your neck, tugging you down for another deep kiss before lowly murmuring into your ear, “God knows you’ve entertained me enough tonight. Don’t move your hand until I tell you to, this time. You can have your power back after that, you megalomaniac.”

The tables had flipped so suddenly, but it didn’t stop you from wiggling down to place a quick kiss on his sternum, looking up at him from behind your lashes and saying, “You go on tour with the Kiszkas and come back a thesaurus, huh?”

Danny quirked his lips up lightly, but he wasn’t about to let the moment fade. “Worry about that later; wrap that pretty little fist around me now, Y/N. I can only take so much teasing.”

His double-entendre would have made you laugh if you weren’t busy doing what he said, wondering if he would really let you take over completely the next time. All you had to do was edge him once more, and then you might have a shot at your prize. “My apologies,” you murmured, “let me make it up to you.”

Danny settled back into the cushions and watched you wait. “Thank you,” he said, cheek present even under the thick layer of gritty lust and desire. “Now be a good girl and stroke me.” 

“Of course, rockstar.” You gave him one pump up to the tip of his cock, and then a twist back down, but that was all. Danny’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Stroke.”

Again, the same way. You saw his hips twitch and gave him another stroke without prompt, but he peeked his eyes open to glare at you, so you swallowed your smile and let your hand rest loose at his base. 

“Stroke.” This time, you revisited that proclivity for a bit of rough treatment, and squeezed a bit harder when your fist enclosed his tip, and he grunted as you backed off and went back down to sit and wait. “Again, Y/N– just like that...uh-huh.” 

His pleasure came out in a hiccup as you gave him another tight stroke and then squeezed lightly at his base, feeling his balls contract against your pinkie. 

“Stroke.” 

His voice was constricted, and you could tell he wanted more. It must have been hell, creeping along like he was and only getting one stroke at a time – it certainly made you reconsider whether sadism and masochism had a place in your bedroom if Danny really liked it this much. His face was scrunched up in pleasure and desperation as you gave him another stroke, and as you brought your hand back down his shaft, he bucked up into your grasp and stilled as another bead of precum appeared at his tip.

You thought that would be it, but apparently, Danny was looking to push his boundaries this time. “Stroke.”

Half-expecting him to erupt in your hand, you did as you were told, and Danny just about nearly whimpered at your touch .

“Stop,” he said, his voice not as strong this time and quivering slightly at the end. 

It wouldn’t be long now. Each time, his recovery period had been getting longer and the time your hand actually spent on his dick, shorter. He was approaching his orgasm faster and faster, as if his body was revolting against the treatment and attempting to overthrow his wishes, and you were confident that he would willingly go over the edge this time.

His heart was nearly beating out of his chest when you placed your palm to it a minute later, and you knocked your forehead against his, as sweaty as he was. “About done, or do you wanna take it further?” He swallowed harshly and hesitated, and your own heartbeat picked up in excitement. 

“Couple more.”

You kissed him and began dragging your body down his. “I’m gonna use my mouth this time. Do you think you can handle that, baby?”

Danny chased your lips and watched heavily as you settled between his legs, adoration shining in his gaze. “I can handle you. Give me your worst.”

With a smirk at his challenge, you gently pulled the skin of his balls between your lips, laving your tongue over the area before letting it pop out. You followed the move with a quick shot upwards, sucking your boyfriend’s cock down in one fell swoop.

Danny hissed above you, big hand coming to rest on the back of your head as you bobbed, fast and mercilessly. “Fuck me, I knew I shouldn’t have – ah– said that,” he grunted, gently taking your head between his palms in a silent request. You slowed to a stop, acquiescing to his desire, and he braced himself on the bed before gently fucking himself into your mouth, breathing heavily and letting a stream of curses and praises tumble from his mouth with every exhale.

“Goddamn, baby– you’re so, so good to me. Such a good girl for me and– ah…got the best fucking mouth I’ve ever had–” He twitched violently between your lips, so hard it engaged your gag reflex, and he quickly pulled you off of him.

Your eyes were still watering as you watched him clutch his spit-shined erection in his hand with a vice grip, trying to simulate a cock-ring to not allow himself to cum just yet – but he had to be close to breaking.

“Jesus Christ, Danny,” you panted, leaning over his groin to avoid hitting anything too volatile. You took his other hand and shoved it between your legs, pressing his fingers through the mess there without regard to how his body would react. He groaned shakily and tightened his grip on his cock even more, sinking two fingers into you since they were already there. “Your resolve is unreal.”

He looked at you with hooded, hazy eyes, distractedly glancing down to where he was drawing out explicitly wet noises from you. “Not anymore. Take me all the way, baby.”

Your chest swelled with euphoria with his permission and you kissed him, dragging your tongue across his for a second before pulling away. “I was starting to think that I was going to spontaneously finish before you would let yourself cum..”

“Yeah?” Danny asked, crooking his fingers inside of you to make sure you knew that if you were going to cum, it wouldn’t be spontaneous. “You need some lovin’ too, pretty baby, don’t ya?” He bit his lip and guided his hand with you when you straddled his legs so that they could remain tucking inside, not knowing what you were going to finish him off with. “What about this? Think you might wanna be next?” His words were lazy and he was leaving off parts of his sentences in favor of taking deep breaths.

Your teeth clamped together to hold back a rather embarrassing mewl as his thumb danced around your clit lightly, tickling it just enough to have your hips chasing after his touch but not enough to give you any real relief. It just pushed you higher, made you wetter, and gave you more reason to make Danny cum within an inch of his sanity now.

Gripping his wrist and pulling away from his torturous touch, you guided it up to his mouth where he slipped his two fingers between his lips. “Like it?” Danny gazed expectantly at you as he sucked harshly on your digits, making sure they were all clean when you pulled them away. “God, rockstar, I can’t believe we never tried this sooner.”

Danny’s cock twitched against his stomach, and you had to stop yourself from answering its call. Looking back to Danny’s face, he had his gaze fixated on you, eyelids fluttering yet trained on you still. “You or me?”

“Both,” you answered lowly. “I think you’d have fun torturing me like this.”

Danny closed his eyes and let out a breathy grunt, deep from the back of his throat. “Then that makes two of us.”

That, however, was a discussion for another night. Right now, you had a different mission, and you slid your hand down the expanse of his heaving chest and stomach, your thumb grazing the line of his oblique that led down to your prize before taking him lightly in hand and rubbing a thumb just underneath the head to watch him tense up and squirm. “How do you wanna cum, Danny? This is your night.”

He wasted no time in answering, having already known what he wanted. “I want you to choose. Surprise me.”

You bit your lip, mulling over the options you had at hand. Quite literally, since Danny had gingerly relinquished his cock to your mercy. You could watch him as you brought him to the edge with your hand but, this time, take him over. Or, you could pin his hips to the bed and tell him not to move this time while you tasted his relief. Maybe he’d appreciate being nestled between your lips, helping you grind on him like you were teenagers until he made a mess all over your belly and his.

You wanted to do it all. God, you wanted to, but the last remaining option was just too damn tempting with how your body wept to be filled. “It might be fun,” you murmured, mostly to yourself as you slid up into his lap and listened to Danny gasp as your wet cunt finally came into contact with his dick, “wouldn’t take much at all, actually, to line you up, slide you in nice and slow, snug and safe inside of me, if only for a second…”

“Y/N,” Danny bleated, his cock quickly becoming wetter with his precum, a sure sign of impending release. He never said anything else, though, and you wondered if he knew whether he was begging for release or begging you to not to make him cum just like this, sitting so close to your body, where he desperately wanted to take his relief.

“I could watch you fall apart like that,” you said, snapping your fingers as you gripped the base of his dick in your hand. Your pinky was able to reach down and stroke the side of his balls, and you swallowed heavily, another wave of arousal making you even wetter as you felt just how firm and heavy they were. 

He was so damn close, and holding the power was once again making you reconsider your thoughts on sadism of the pleasurable kind.

Just to heighten the anticipation, you lifted your leg over one of his and took your weight off of his hips, instead opting to press your core to the meat of his thigh and begin to ride it like you would his cock. Immediately, his hand found your hip, pushing and pulling in tandem to get you a better rhythm. “I could straddle you,” you whispered in his ear, finding pleasure in the friction to your clit. “Get you nice and wet, then warm you up. And you could cum inside me. Do you want to cum like that?”

Danny let out a broken moan. “Yes, Y/N, please. I can’t– my brain is barely functioning right now, I need to cum.”

Just talking about it made your pussy ache. Like a phantom with Danny’s cock had come up behind you, you could practically feel the stretch, the shared warmth between the two of you, the dull pressure of your walls attempting to close around him and keep him there forever.

You fished for his hand on your hip and led it down to where you were furiously getting off on your previous choice of skin and placed his fingers just where you needed them, using him to climb up to your own peak while holding Danny steady in your hand. You did want to cum together. But you were going to need a little bit of help to get as close as you knew he was.

“Atta girl,” Danny praised, voice shaky and soft, yet uncomplaining about his own denial. “Use me however you want to. Just– fuck, baby, just make me cum with you.”

“Close your eyes, then,” you huffed, becoming out of breath from the work you were putting in. After months away, physical sex was much more tiring than using your toys, but you and Danny were training hard to increase your stamina. Hard and often, these days.

He did as you asked, and right as you felt like everything balled up inside of you was going to explode, you made good on your words and threw your other leg over him, not giving any warning before you sank down on him and continued your ride with just as much intensity, pace unfaltering even as he cried out in surprise and fucked up into you. 

Danny’s eyes flew open, and you whined pitifully as his body took over at the sudden constriction of heat and wetness, bruising your hips in his grip and using his planted feet to crush your hips together each time you came down. 

“Oh god, oh god, oh god– fuck!” he yelled, head thrown back into the pillows as his back arched and he held you down with all of the strength left in his body, making sure you wouldn’t get away as he pumped himself once more into you. 

You felt it all – the warmth flooding into your body, each burst seeming like it would never end; you’d be just as happy watching Danny’s face contort as it was forever, but your own orgasm took precedence over keeping your eyes open enough to see the show. “Danny, Danny–” His name was cut off by mewls and yips and a case of the shakes that slapped your thighs against his as your muscles contracted and milked Danny for all he was worth.

When all was said and done, and you were still poised on locked elbows looming over Danny as he soothingly ran his hands over the curves of your hips and waist and belly as you both caught your breath in relative silence, breathing soft nothings into the space between you.

“I love you.”

“So good to me.”

“You’re incredible.”

“I’m so glad you’re home so that we could do that in person,” you whispered into his neck, having finally lowered yourself for more skin contact.

Danny tightened his arms, wrapped and tangled like tentacles around you. “I’m glad that I am, too,” he whispered back into your hair. “It’s my favorite place to be. Right here.”

You giggled. “Inside of me?”

His lips curved up against your temple and one of his hands reached down to grope your ass, unintentionally pushing you against him where he was still buried. “I mean…that too. Let me be romantic, will you?”

Sighing contentedly, you brought your hand up to the back of his head, gently rubbing a spot at the base of his skull that you knew made him purr like a kitten. You just wanted your hands on him, keeping him within your reach now that you could have him there. 

“Alright, alright.” Knowing that he needed it too, you shifted to allow your hand to join your other at the back of his head, gazing lovingly down at him. He had hooded eyes, belying his sleepiness, but it didn’t stop him from smiling up at you softly, humming when you gave him an eskimo kiss before resting your forehead against his. “You’re my favorite place, too, you know,” you said, just in case he needed to be reminded again. “And I’m really, really, glad that you’re home.”

~~~

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[perfectsunlight]

01 ⸺ MASTER MANIPULATOR

warnings: mildly suggestive, manipulation, anger issues, trust issues, toxic behavior, insecurity within a relationship, controlling relationship, lisa and y/n are js horrible for each other basically...

word count: 5.1k

part of the series: LOGICAL

​​when two people are like fire and gasoline, it's best to keep them apart. but logic never applied to y/n and lisa's relationship.

if y/n was fire, lisa was gasoline. 

their relationship was a constant battle of intense emotions, a dangerous dance between fiery passion and explosive reactions. when they clashed, things got ugly very quickly.

yet, amid the chaos, there was an undeniable magnetism that kept pulling them back together. 

their love was a dangerous addiction, and both of the girls had been hooked.

lisa manobal was both the bane of y/n kim’s existence, and the love of her life. because loving lisa meant loving contradiction, she was a puzzle of contrasting pieces.

one moment she could be the most loving and sincere person, and then the next turn incredibly cold and angry. there were many nights where the girl spent hours in screaming contests with her girlfriend, only to end up falling asleep on her chest afterwards.

at this point in the relationship, y/n knew better than to distinguish the two as different people. 

she understood that the girl she loved encompassed both the best and worst aspects of her life. and lisa would say the same things about y/n, as well.

“were you arguing with y/n last night?”

the blonde asked, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as lisa threw her practice shirt over her head. she mentally cursed coach kim for making monday conditioning practice at 5 in the morning. the superstar sighed at the mention of her girlfriend’s name, already feeling the irritation brewing in her once again.

“yeah. i was.”

jeon somi knew better than anyone that the two lovers were always arguing. she had even come home to the apartment to witness lisa and her girlfriend involved in a heated argument. it usually ended either one of two ways. 

and both of those ways left her with no sleep. however this time the point guard wasn’t at the dorm this time, which made it worse. 

“you two aren’t good for each other, you know.” somi mumbled, pointing a chopstick at her friend. the basketball star turned her head and scoffed at the center. “yeah? and does aeri know about you kissing chaeyoung? because i can easily let her know.”

lisa's sharp retort hung in the air, and the taller girl physically recoiled, her eyes widening in surprise and fear. the threat was clear, and the tension in the room escalated. it was early, the sun still asleep and the sky still dark. 

but even in the darkened room, somi could see the intensity swirling in her roommate's eyes.

somi's lips pressed into a thin line, her fingers nervously tracing the rim of her coffee cup. she had touched a nerve, and it was evident in the way the other girl’s jaw clenched and her shoulders stiffened. 

the mention of her infidelity was still a sensitive subject for her, even if it happened well over a month ago.

“you don't have to bring aeri into this,” somi said, her voice barely above a whisper, attempting to maintain her composure despite the storm brewing in her chest. “we're talking about you and y/n, and how i can’t sleep because you’re arguing over the phone at midnight.”

ygu’s most venomous let out a sarcastic chuckle, taking a sip of her water before pulling the team’s jacket on. “then sleep at aeri’s. you should know by now that i’m not breaking up with her.” she said flatly, checking her hair in the hallway mirror. “besides,”

lisa met somi's eyes in the mirror, her own gaze challenging. “i don't need a lecture from someone who cheated on their girlfriend. i would never cheat on y/n,” she retorted, her voice laced with dragged out vowels and pointed shade. she swung her bag over her shoulder before walking towards the front door.

“now hurry up. i don’t want to be late because of you.”

“you look exhausted. did you even sleep?”

“yeri unnie, i don’t want to do this right now.” y/n said flatly, tightening her laces as she spoke. the locker room was empty, save it be for the two cousins. yeri took a seat next to her, staring at her with a pointed gaze. 

silence followed from the younger girl as she tried to just ignore her cousin’s questioning. she was too tired to deal with this, especially since they had conditioning in a few minutes. 

yeri leaned back against the concrete wall, letting out an audible exhale before speaking once more. 

“it was lisa again, wasn’t it?”

y/n's fingers faltered for just a half second, but it was enough for the eldest to notice it. it was all the confirmation she needed.

"what was it this time?" yeri asked, lazily draping an arm over her cousin.

y/n shot yeri a sharp glance, her patience wearing thin. “unnie, seriously, not now,” she snapped, her tone laced with irritation. she resumed tying her laces, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than the conversation she didn't want to have.

she removed her arm from y/n's shoulder but fixed her with an unyielding stare. “you can't keep avoiding it, y/n. this has been going on for months, and you're clearly not okay.”

rolling her eyes, y/n huffed out a frustrated breath. “do you think i enjoy this? do you think i like going to bed every night with a knot in my stomach, wondering if we're going to wake up still together?” she scoffed and glanced at the older girl for a brief moment, “and what do you want me to do? wave a magic wand and fix everything? i'm tired, okay? so, please, spare me the interrogation right now.”

yeri didn’t have time to come up with a response before her aunt and coach walked into the locker room. “yerim, your socks are inside out.” coach taeyeon pointed out as she threw away the last bit of her apple in the nearby trash can. 

“aw man, again?”

y/n shook off the rest of her drowsiness as she rose from the bench and moved towards the door, but not before her mother stopped her with a hand on her shoulder. the young girl turned to look up, watching as coach taeyeon’s eyes scanned her face briefly. “you didn’t sleep last night.” she observed out loud, raising an eyebrow at her daughter. the brunette forced a tired smile, attempting to brush off her mother's concern. “i was just studying late, it's nothing,” she replied with a small nod.

as if on cue, the muffled voices of jeon somi and the last girl y/n wanted to see were heard from down the hall. 

kim taeyeon's gaze remained sharp as she narrowed her eyes slightly. “stop waiting until the night before to study. i need you at your best on the court. we have a game next week.”

y/n quickly nodded before moving past her mother, not being able to deal with standing in the same room as her girlfriend at the moment. it was bad enough that they had argued the night before, but there was also no point in talking to lisa when she was most likely still irritated.

“on the baseline.” coach irene called out, her voice echoing off the walls of ygu’s gymnasium.

the command pulled y/n from her thoughts, and she quickly jogged towards the baseline, her mind shifting gears from personal issues to the grueling conditioning ahead. coach irene bae, a no-nonsense woman with a reputation for pushing her players to their limits, scanned the team with a stern expression.

“good morning, vipers.” coach kim called out. “good morning, coach.” was the team’s reply, the crisp echo of the unified response filled the gymnasium, setting the tone for the intense training session that lay ahead. “i’d like to start off by stating the obvious,” coach taeyeon walked slowly with her arms behind her back, scanning each of her players one by one.

“you’ve gotten lazy.” 

the gymnasium fell into a heavy silence as coach taeyeon's words hung in the air. every pair of eyes, including y/n's, were fixated on their coach. the atmosphere was thick with anticipation; the vipers were used to tough love, but there was something different in coach taeyeon's voice this time, a mix of disappointment and determination. 

“we were the champions last year, but that doesn't mean we can rest,” coach kim continued, her gaze unwavering. “complacency has no place in this team. if you're not giving your all, you're giving nothing.”

coach irene, standing beside the head coach, added her voice to the conversation. “a chain is only as strong as its weakest link. see to it that our team has none.”

“it’s 5 in the morning. if she starts with suicides, i’m hanging myself in her office.” yena muttered next to her. y/n bit back a small laugh at her roommate’s comment, looking down quickly at her shoes to make sure irene wouldn’t see her laughing.

“alright, ladies, you know the drill. let's start with suicides. and i want to see speed!” coach irene barked, shaking the drowsiness from the other players. 

the whistle blew, and the players exploded into motion. the rhythmic pounding of sneakers against the gym floor resonated in the air, blending with the sounds of heavy breathing and the occasional encouraging shout from a teammate. y/n focused on her breathing, on the steady beat of her heart, allowing the repetitive motion to clear her mind.

y/n's muscles protested with each stride, but she pushed through the pain, knowing that stopping wasn’t an option. despite the sounds from the pounding of her feet and the thumping of her heart, y/n could only focus on the pair of eyes locking with hers with every touch on the line.

seulgi and lisa were captains, meaning they always stood next to each other towards the front of the line. with every downward touch to the line, y/n could see lisa clearly. 

in the midst of exhaustion, y/n's mind wandered back to their conversation in the locker room. the challenges with lisa, the late-night arguments, and the strain it put on their relationship – all of it seemed distant. they both knew better than to bring their issues to the court. 

here, they were not lovers. they were just teammates.

eventually, the suicides ended. yuqi was standing with her arms over her head, yeri was hunched over, yujin and somi were both leaning against each other, and both hanni and rei were laying down on their backs. 

“if i get arthritis at 30 i’m blaming coach bae.” yena muttered under her breath as she took a seat on the floor next to y/n. the other girl snickered, catching the attention of both of their coaches. 

“y/n, yena. you two still have energy, clearly. down, plank for 5.”

yena groaned, y/n sighing in defeat as the two got into position. the only sound was the faint shuffling of sneakers as the rest of the team recovered from the suicides. y/n shot a quick glance at her roommate, who was already grimacing. the strain of the exercise was evident on both their faces, but y/n was determined not to let her arms give out before the countdown ended.

the five minutes felt like 5 hours, but eventually the suffering came to an end. “y/n, up.”

“what about me?!” yena called out, looking up at coach irene with an incredulous look. irene raised an eyebrow at yena's comment, her lips twitching in a half-smile. 

“what was that about you hanging yourself in my office?” 

yena groaned dramatically but didn't argue further, knowing when it was best to relent. 

y/n staggered to her feet, her arms and legs feeling like jelly after the intense workout. she moved to the nearby bench, wiping the sweat from her brow with the front of her sleeve. from behind, the point guard felt a familiar hand on the back of her wrist. 

she didn't need to turn around to know it was lisa. 

the point guard felt a water bottle slip into her hand without another word, and just like that lisa’s touch was gone.

y/n took a long swig from the water bottle, feeling the cool liquid replenishing her parched throat. the taste was familiar; it was lisa's preferred brand. even though there were no words exchanged, the simple gesture spoke volumes. it was a testament to their unspoken understanding, that sometimes they didn't always need words.

sometimes y/n thinks lisa is better at that fact.

conditioning continued on for another hour, and needless to say everyone was on the verge of either throwing up or passing out. especially yena, who was perhaps on her 5th punishment plank of the practice.

once the players retired to the locker room for showers, y/n took a seat next to her cousin once again. yeri slung an arm around the younger girl.

y/n leaned into yeri's comforting embrace, feeling the soreness in her muscles gradually ebbing away. the locker room was alive with a symphony of laughter, groans, and the hiss of water hitting the floor as the players showered off the day's intensity.

“can you believe she’s planking again?” y/n said, her voice a mix of exhaustion and triumph. yeri chuckled, her arm tightening around her cousin. “she’ll get us in trouble if she mouths off in a game.”  

the point guard nodded in agreement, a small smile playing on her lips. yena’s rebellious spirit was both endearing and worrisome. while it added a touch of humor to their intense training sessions, it was also a trait that could potentially lead to trouble during crucial moments in a game.

she glanced at the way seulgi and irene were talking in a corner of the locker room. there was rumor that the senior captain and assistant coach had something going on between them for some time now, but y/n would never ask her mother about it.

“do you think they’re dating? or just hooking up?” yeri whispered, eyeing the two in the corner as well. y/n leaned in closer to yeri, her voice barely above a whisper. the rumors about seulgi and coach irene had been circulating for a while, and the mystery surrounding their relationship had piqued the curiosity of the entire team. “i have no idea,” y/n admitted, her gaze fixed on the pair. “they're both incredibly private about their personal lives.”

the older girl nodded as she stood, yawning as she stretched her arms. “are you spending the night with yuqi and i again?” she asked. y/n hummed for a moment before answering. “i’ll let you know. we haven’t talked since last night…” 

yeri gave her a knowing look, but decided on not saying anything. y/n waved her cousin goodbye before making her way to one of the open showers. almost all of the team was gone by now, or about to leave. thankfully, this meant y/n could shower a bit longer without interruptions.

the warm water hit across her skin, as the steam curled around her, y/n closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of respite. the shower had always been her sanctuary, a place where she could let go of the world, if only for a little while. 

even after, the young girl was lost in her thoughts. she placed her clothes inside the team backpack before she felt a familiar set of hands around her waist.

y/n leaned back slightly, allowing lisa to wrap her arms around her, her grip gentle yet reassuring. “rough day,” lisa murmured, her voice soft against her girlfriend’s ear. y/n nodded, appreciating the comfort the basketball star brought. 

“yeah, but we made it through.”

lisa pressed a small kiss to the back of y/n's head, inhaling the scent of the shampoo on her head. “we always do,” she mumbled.

“i’m still mad at you.” the shorter girl muttered, back still pressed against her lover. lisa let out a soft sigh, her fingers gently tracing patterns on y/n's waist. “i don't see why you're so upset, babe. she's just a friend.” 

y/n pulled away slightly, turning to face lisa with a serious expression. “i still don’t like how you’re always talking to her. you tell her everything too.”

a small scoff escaped the taller girl’s lips, “am i not allowed to tell my friends about my life? or my problems?”

y/n's frustration simmered beneath the surface. “it's not about you sharing your life, lisa. it's about the way you're sharing it with her. it feels...intimate. and you already know how i feel about her.”

the star rolled her eyes before quickly being replaced by a defensive edge. “she's just a friend, y/n. you're blowing this out of proportion.”

y/n's jaw clenched, her patience wearing thin. “it's not just about her. it's about us. i need to know that i can trust you, completely.”

lisa sighed, running a hand over her face as she let go of her girlfriend’s waist completely. she took a glance towards the office, making sure neither coach irene or coach taeyeon were still around at the moment. the athlete turned around to face her girlfriend once again.

“trust? you know i trust you. but you're always so suspicious. i can't talk to anyone without you assuming the worst.”

y/n shook her head, her voice determined. “it's not suspicion, it's concern. i've seen the way she acts around you. i've seen the way you respond to her messages.”

lisa's eyes narrowed, her tone sharpening. “so now you're monitoring my messages? that's a breach of my privacy.”

“so what?” y/n snapped, pointing a finger at her girlfriend. “i have every right.”

ygu’s most venomous scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “right? you don't get to invade my privacy and then claim you're right. that's not how this is going to work.”

y/n's face contorted with anger, her fists clenching at her sides. “you're the one who's making this relationship impossible. i can't trust you, lisa. you've broken my trust over and over again. i tell you that i don’t like it when you do something, then you promise me you’ll stop, and then i catch you still doing it!”

lisa's eyes flashed with irritation. “oh, don't play the victim here. you're not innocent in this, y/n. your jealousy and constant need for control are suffocating.”

the room seemed to vibrate with their mutual resentment, toxic energy swirling between them. y/n's voice rose, laced with frustration and hurt. “i'm not suffocating you. i just want a relationship built on trust and respect. is that too much to ask?”

“trust and respect? you don't even trust me to have a conversation with someone without assuming the worst. that's not trust, that's paranoia.” the taller girl shot a piercing gaze to the point guard.

y/n's face flushed with anger, her voice sharp. “i'm not paranoid, stop making it sound like i’m batshit crazy. i'm just tired of your lies and secrets. if you can't be honest with me, then maybe we shouldn't be together.”

lisa's eyes turned icy, her voice cutting like a knife. “oh, you’re not going anywhere.”

“what do you mean, i'm not going anywhere?” y/n asked, her voice quivering despite her attempts to sound strong.

the taller girl’s lips curled into a small smile, a cruel glint in her eyes. “you think you can just walk away? after all we've been through? you're mine, y/n. you don't get to leave.”

the point guard rolled her eyes and swung her backpack over her shoulders. “i’m tired of talking to you.” she huffed, moving to walk out of the locker room.

the shooting guard’s smile faded, replaced by a growing anger. she swiftly moved to block y/n's path, her tall frame imposing and intimidating. “we're not finished here.”

y/n glared at lisa, her anger simmering just beneath the surface. “yes. we are.” she spat as she pushed past her girlfriend, ignoring the way the locker sounded when it collided with the taller girl’s fist. that was definitely going to leave a new dent.

“you’re up late.”

y/n looked up from her desk to see yena leaning in the doorway. the point guard gave her a half smile, “couldn’t sleep. i’m just journaling now.” she shifted in her chair to face her roommate better. “did you get back from yuri’s?”

yena nodded, her eyes scanning the appearance of her closest friend. “yeah, just got back. she made some weird concoction, but it surprisingly tasted good. also,” she leaned closer and chuckled softly. “you’re wearing my sweater?”

y/n glanced down at the oversized sweater she had draped over her shoulders. “oh, yeah,” she said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “i hope you don't mind. it was on my bed and i got cold. plus, i need to wash all my stuff.” 

yena waved off her concern, a playful glint in her eyes. “nah, you’re good. besides, i have like ten more of those in my closet, so feel free to borrow them whenever you want.” 

she perched on the edge of y/n's desk, her expression turning more serious. “but seriously, what's going on, y/n? you've seemed really off lately.” y/n hesitated for a moment before deciding to confide in her friend.

“you already know what i’m going to say.” she chuckled as she closed her journal and slid it back into its place on her shelf.

yena's expression turned into a knowing frown, her eyes filled with concern. “do you want to talk about it? or do you want to do something to take your mind off of it?”

“hm,” she rubbed the back of her own neck before giving her a small smile. “i think i’d like a distraction.”

“a legal one or–”

“yes, a legal one, choi yena.”

the other athlete chuckled, her laughter carrying a hint of mischief. “hey, i just had to make sure! wouldn't want to accidentally involve you in any late-night heists or anything.” she winked playfully, her lighthearted demeanor bringing a small smile to y/n's lips. 

“you would drag me into something like that,” y/n replied, the tension in her shoulders easing ever so slightly. “can we bring yuqi with us?”

yena grinned mischievously. “oh, absolutely. with yuqi's height, we'll be unstoppable.”

“...you better be implying something legal. we have a game soon.” y/n threw a pen at her roommate as she stood up.

“who said coaches have to know?” she called out over her shoulder, grabbing the keys to her car from the counter. y/n glanced up from putting her shoes on, furrowing her brows with a chuckle. “yena…are you forgetting who my mom is?”

“damn. you’re right.”

“where are you?”

y/n looked up into the sky, ignoring the way her face was freezing from the winter air. she watched her breath dance as she exhaled through her nose before replying. “with yena and yuqi. why?”

“i miss you. come over.”

the point guard looked over at her friends in the distance, watching as they ate their fries on the curb. y/n had told them her mother called, excusing herself from them for a moment.

of course, she was lying about who had called. and she was sure they knew that too.

“i’m still mad at you, lisa.” she whispered just loud enough for her girlfriend to hear.

“i know. but just come over. please.” 

there was a light pause, and y/n could feel the refusal on the tip of her tongue. until lisa spoke the next words that changed her mind.

“we don’t have to talk.”

y/n couldn’t remember what bullshit excuse she gave yena and yuqi. she couldn’t remember how long it took her to get from her dorm to lisa’s. it was all just morphed into one blur.

but one thing was for sure. she’d always remember the familiar burn on her skin whenever her girlfriend touched her.

“somi’s sleeping at aeri’s tonight,” lisa whispered into her girlfriend’s ear as she pulled the point guard into her lap.

y/n felt her heart race as lisa's warm breath brushed against her ear. the familiar scent of her girlfriend's perfume mingled with the subtle aroma of the room, creating an intoxicating atmosphere. despite her earlier resolve, y/n found herself succumbing to the magnetic pull between them.

the basketball star's arms wrapped around y/n, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them. it was as if the two came to a silent agreement, ignoring the troubles and complications that clouded their relationship at that moment.

“we have a scrimmage tomorrow.” the brunette whispered back as a small warning, already feeling lisa’s hands trailing up her back.

her hands moved in a slow, deliberate manner, tracing patterns on y/n's back as she leaned in, her lips barely brushing against her girlfriend's earlobe. 

“i know,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, sending shivers down y/n's spine. “but we have tonight.”

y/n closed her eyes, succumbing to the sensations that coursed through her body. it was a dangerous game they played, skirting the edges of their relationship's complexities, yet in that moment, it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

the room seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a dance of longing and desire. for a brief moment, y/n allowed herself to forget about the arguments, the suspicions, and the doubts. all that mattered was the here and now, and the way y/n knew that this version of her girlfriend wasn’t the one punching lockers.

as lisa's lips found her neck, y/n let out a soft sigh, her fingers tangling in her girlfriend's hair. it was a temporary escape, and they both knew it. but neither of them cared. 

“let me kiss you,” lisa whispered, hands resting on the back of y/n’s bra. she could feel the way her girlfriend’s fingers caressed the clasp. “i’ll be gentle…”

the logical part of her brain screamed at her to stop, to resist the pull of lisa's lips and the promises whispered in the quiet of the night. but the ache in her heart, the need for connection and reassurance, drowned out the voices of caution.

y/n needed this kind of reassurance. that no matter what happened between them, she would always be the one in her girlfriend’s bed at the end of the day.

she nodded, a barely perceptible movement, granting permission for lisa to bridge the distance between them. the basketball star's lips met y/n's with a tenderness that belied the storm within both of them. 

lisa's hands cradled y/n's face gently, as if she held something infinitely precious. her kisses were soft and feather-light, tracing a path along y/n's lips. she’d spent countless nights with the young point guard like this.

every part of y/n was memorized by lisa. just like every part of lisa was memorized by y/n.

y/n slipped a finger on the waistband of her girlfriend’s sweatpants, not moving further, but just resting there. “we have a scrimmage tomorrow,” lisa whispered, reciting y/n’s own protest from earlier. 

“shut up.” y/n mumbled, her touch traveling further as her fingers traced the contours of lisa's abdomen, mapping the familiar terrain of her girlfriend's body. lisa smirked, her lips curving into a playful smile. 

lisa moved one of her hands away from her lover’s back and instead intertwined their fingers. the smaller girl glanced at her girlfriend’s knuckles with a small pout, seeing the small bruises forming around from lisa’s burst of anger earlier.

she was reminded of the reason for their heated argument of the past two days. y/n narrowed her eyes slightly, pushing lisa onto her back as she straddled her waist by shifting her position.

“do you think im pretty?” y/n whispered, looking into the eyes of the girl she had loved for the past two years. she could feel the jealousy creeping up in her chest. she hated the way she argued with her girlfriend. she hated how insecure she felt in her own relationship.

and she hated park chaeyoung for being the reason why.

lisa’s hand unclasped the back of y/n’s bra, watching it fall from underneath her shirt as she answered.

“you’re very pretty, princess.”

feeling the weight of her own insecurity, y/n leaned down, capturing lisa's lips in a hungry kiss. it was a desperate attempt to drown out the doubts that plagued her, a way to seek solace in the tangible affection between them. lisa responded eagerly, her hands sliding up y/n's back, pulling her closer, their bodies molding together in the familiar dance of desire.

but despite the intensity of their kiss, a shadow of doubt still lingered in y/n's heart. she broke the kiss, her breaths uneven, her eyes searching lisa's face for reassurance while the girl’s hands slipped into her shorts.

“promise me, lisa,” she pleaded, her voice wavering. she didn’t know if it was from her own worries, or from the way lisa was touching her. “promise me that there's nothing between you and chaeyoung.”

lalisa’s expression softened with understanding, her free hand gently tracing the contours of y/n's face. “kim y/n, you're the only one i want,” she said, her voice filled with sincerity. 

“there's nothing between chaeyoung and me, i promise.” she added, already sliding the point guard’s underwear to the side. y/n's heart wavered, torn between her lingering doubts and the intoxicating desire lisa stirred within her. 

she was desperate to believe in her girlfriend, to drown out the uncertainties that clouded her mind. 

and the fiery passion in lisa's eyes, and the way she touched her, were persuasive arguments that spoke louder than words.

“i love you,” the basketball star muttered against y/n’s lips, already making her fingers at home in the only part of her girlfriend that no one else could ever have. immediately, y/n replied with a soft moan, attaching her lips to lisa’s in a shallow kiss. it was a reminder to lisa, that it was only in moments like this where her girlfriend truly felt reassured.

even if she knew that they’d be yelling at each other again by the end of the week, she didn’t care. y/n kim was hers, and she always would be.

“i love you too.”

TAGLIST ⸺ ✭ @silantryoo @rosiehrs @niniwhiskers @cwpiqwon @jisooftme @1luvkarina @scarfac3 @santasbitch @lisas-earlobe @wallfl9wer @aerihiltonn @unforgivenangel

OPEN!! comment below the masterlist to be added.

[annmarcus63]

I've always love the idea of game Geralt x series Jaskier.

Here's an idea. While training, Ciri's powers went out of control sending Game!Geralt to the Series!The witcher universe. Game Geralt meets Jaskier and Geralt. The pair agree to help him get to Kaer Morhen, since when Ciri comes looking for him, she would look there first.  Here's a soulmate story, a thread with two ends. Geralt doesn't want him, but someone else might.

"Are there ....soulmates...in your world?" They are sitting in front of a small bonfire where a boar leg is getting cooked. The sunset shimmer has blue and purple shades that rain on them. The Geralt from another universe (Jaskier calls him BeardGeralt and BeardGeralt likes it cause it sounds like bear, like a...pet name) tilts his head towards him, showing he has his entire attention.

"I don’t think so."

“Oh” BeardGeralt smiles, his handsome face lighting with barely concealed fondness that shows every time they talk in private. His Geralt, the real Geralt, is currently brushing off Roach trying to appear as if he's not listening to their conversation. "Disappointed, are you?" Jaskier snorts.

"No really. Actually I'm relieved my counterpart doesn't have one, it wouldn't be fair, to me I mean."

"Then you'll be glad to know he's goddamn miserable. Couldn't catch a single fly." Jaskier's face lights up like a child on their name day. "Egotistical and malicious. You share those with Dandelion" adds BeardGeralt without a trace of judgment or anger, only amusement.

"But more handsome" says Jaskier with a wink, BeardGeralt gives him an appreciative look, a slight smile hidden under his beard. Jaskier has been feeling this tension between them. Not entirely sexual per se but more, something mysterious that's calling them. He has always flirt with his Geralt but he has never responded, has never been interested, but It's not the same with BeardGeralt and it feels nice, to be wanted for once, for more than a quick fuck. He must also admit that it is nice to hold the interest of one Geralt, even if it's not his, his soulmate. It shows him in a way that destiny wasn't wrong with them, that Jaskier could have been wanted by his soulmate, at least in another universe. That they could have been happy together. 

"He's happy. He's with Priscilla" BeardGeralt says calmly, looking at the fire briefly. Jaskier tries to remember if he has known a Priscilla, he hasn't.

“Bastard” Jaskier throws his arms in the air in melodramatic surrender. He's not upset, not really, he's glad his duplicate from this other universe in which soulmates don’t exist is happy, but that doesn't make him any less of a lucky bastard. After all his biggest competition has always been himself, this Dandelion is him, so, yeah it feels like a competition. One that Jaskier is losing. 

Jaskier is so immersed in his own reasoning that he gets caught up when BeardGeralt asks in a cautious voice "Where's yours?"

"My what?"

“Soulmate” And that's the thing, isn't it? He has a soulmate and a mark on his forearm to prove it and that soulmate is, in fact, a few meters from them tending to his horse.

There must be something in his expression, a dull compliance that has woven, somehow, on his heart (and people says the eyes are the windows of the heart), because the other Geralt dawns on the fact that Geralt from this world is Jaskier's soulmate. 

And suddenly his Geralt is there, in front of them whelling the leg above the fire "It's burning" he growls looking up and meeting BeardGeralt’s eyes. Cat-like eyes, they both have beautiful eyes, they're the same and so unique at the same time, apart from each other. His Geralt is younger, he has a soul of one who still hasn't found how to live with pain and self-hatred. BeardGeralt is older, the kind of good wine older, he has a soul of one who has learned to live with all of it, he’s wiser and is full of quiet regret.

The witchers are speaking with their eyes, two predators speaking the same language. They stop the staring contest after a few seconds. The other Geralt doesn't ask again and Jaskier is relieved. Later, when the moon is glowing in the sky and they're trying to sleep, Jaskier thinks of how warm BeardGeralt feels next to him, it's cold so they're sleeping close to each other and wonders what it would be to be loved by him.

I'm posting this here again with small changes

If you want to read more let me know

love u

[blueraineshadows]

Blood Bound Part Five

Sebastian Sallow 🔺️ F!MC 🔺️Leander Prewett

Sebastian heads into the unknown to break MC out of Azkaban. MC struggles to adjust to the outside world. Leander descends deep underneath London to scope out the illegal duelling ring.

15k words. Tags: NSFW / threat / blood / violence / angst / unresolved sexual tension / torture / organised crime / PTSD / anxiety

Chapter Master List and AO3

Mutuals taglist at the end 💖✨️

Five: The Prince, the Villain, and the Maiden Fair

Sebastian 

Looking at the map Black Dahlia had made one last time, Sebastian was fairly confident that he could find his way through the corridors of Azkaban towards MC's cell. The hum of anticipation throbbed through him as he folded the parchment, tucked it into his jacket pocket, and touched his fingers to the blood amulet. Clenching his jaw, he glanced across to where Rosier stood waiting, dressed all in black like him, a serious expression on his pretty face. 

He was going to get MC. This time, when he arrived at the cell door, she would be real and not a phantom in a memory. 

“I'm ready when you are, mate,” Rosier said, holding out his hand. 

Sebastian nodded, reaching out to grasp Rosier along his lower arm, and Rosier grasped him the same way. Their eyes met, an acknowledgement passing between them that they were about to travel into a highly dangerous and horrific place, breaking Wizarding law to bring out a convicted prisoner. 

“Let's go,” Sebastian said firmly, his stomach twisting viciously as he visualised the reception chamber from the memory and Disapparated them both with a crack.

The first thing that struck Sebastian was the chilling oppressiveness, his stomach catching up from the long distance Apparition as he stumbled into existence inside the Auror reception chamber, Rosier catching his breath beside him. As his eyes swung about the room, recognising it from the pensieve memory, he shivered at the utter desolation and icy chill that crept up his neck.

“Well, this is nice,” Rosier huffed, ruffling his hair as he gazed around. “I love what they have done with the place.”

Throwing Rosier a dark look, Sebastian stepped up to the signing in book on the counter, his finger brushing over the column of entries written by Prewett. He had been here nearly every day for the last few weeks, the last entry only yesterday. Adrenaline was pulsing through Sebastian, his hands curling into fists as he turned his gaze towards the door that led into the prison proper.

“Have your wand at the ready,” he said quietly, slipping his own out. “Those Dementors will likely be on us straight away.”

“Have you ever come up against one before?”

Sebastian swallowed as he looked at his partner in crime and shook his head. “No, but I’ve practised the Patronus charm plenty enough,” he said, gripping the handle of his wand tightly. “I hope you have, too.”

Rosier’s blue eyes darkened with a memory, and his gaze flicked down. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m up against. Dementors came for my father. I was just a kid, but I’ll never forget it.”

The leaden ball of grief that Sebastian carried in his own chest tugged sharply as he took in the shadows on Rosier’s face. He knew what it was like to lose a parent so young. He nodded and turned his gaze back towards the door, lifting to pat his hand against Rosier’s back in a gesture of understanding.

“We get to the cell, get MC out, and then we get the fuck out of this place. Alright?”

“This girl better be worth it, mate. That’s all I can say,” Rosier said, readying himself.

Sebastian felt his throat constrict, his eyes hardening. “Trust me. She is worth it.”

The frigid weight of despair grew heavier as they walked swiftly down the corridor, the fire sconces casting flickering shadows in their wake as they approached MC’s wing, the distant mournful screams of those trapped here making Sebastian’s heart thud rapidly beneath his ribs. Trying to shut out the sounds became almost impossible as they entered the colossal prison wing, barred cell doors offering unsettling glimpses into life here that he tried to avert his eyes from. 

Above their heads swooped the tattered robes of the guards, the chilling rattle of their death breaths spurring Sebastian on quicker, his own breathing harsh and tight as two Dementors broke free from their pack and rushed downwards towards him and Rosier.

“Expecto Patronum!” Rosier cast, his arm thrust upwards, a burst of white erupting from his wand in a swelling arc. The Dementors hesitated, retreating back towards the high ceiling, their shifting shapes being swallowed in the darkness beyond.

“It’s not much further,” Sebastian muttered, already looking forward to getting out of here. He held the back of his hand against his nose, breathing through his mouth to avoid the stench of abandoned humans. The true horror of Azkaban was laid bare as his boots scraped against the dark stone, eyes checking the numbers above the doors until he came to the one he needed, and he slowed his step.

“Is this it?” Rosier asked quietly.

A rasping chuckle sounded from the darkness, and Sebastian glanced to the opposite side of the corridor, the gnarled hands of an old crone grasping the iron bars of her door. His nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of her, repulsed by the gaping maw of her mouth and the filth of the ragged prison garb she wore. This one had been here a long time and was still clinging to mortality by a thread of madness.

“Merlin’s bollocks,” Rosier hissed, flinching back. He visibly shivered, and the woman cackled even louder. “That ain’t her, is it?”

“Don’t be a twat,” Sebastian scowled, grabbing Rosier by the front of his coat and shuffling him away from the crone and towards MC’s door. 

He was impatient to see her, desperate to get her out of here, his guilt making the oppression feel thicker than it had any right to be. With his heart in his mouth, he stepped up to the cold iron bars of her door and peered into the gloom, his eyes sweeping the cell. A slight crease formed on his brow as there appeared to be no sign of her.

“MC,” he whispered, taking hold of a bar of the door and gasping as it swung on its hinges. It was unlocked. 

Stomach plummeting, icy fear prickling the back of his neck, he yanked the door open and stepped into the cell, calling her name louder, but the room was empty. It was impossible. Panic gripped his throat, and he darted back out to check the cell number again, certain it was the right place. Tugging out the piece of parchment, he double-checked the details, his chest so tight his breathing sounded too loud to his own ears. He was in the right place.

“What’s going on?” Rosier asked, his eyes glancing up and down the corridor nervously, his throat bobbing.

“She should be here!” Sebastian said, returning to the cell as though MC would have appeared in the seconds he had been gone, but the room remained stubbornly empty.  A bucket and a mug stood on the floor, and on a stone ledge, next to a dirty blanket, was a small glass potion bottle, the stopper discarded beside it. “Where is she?”

Rosier shrugged, glancing around the cell himself, the cold squalor of it making his cheeks paler than usual. “Are you sure this is the right place?”

“Yes,” Sebastian snapped, his fingers wrinkling the parchment as he felt his fear shift into fury. His cheeks flushed with it, eyes so dark they glittered as he strode out of the cell. “If that bitch, Black Dahlia, has tricked us, then she is going to die a very slow and painful death.”

Rosier was close on his heels, worry creasing his brow as he glanced up at the gathering interest above their heads. “Seb, we need to hurry up,” he muttered. “We need to get out of here.”

Grabbing at his hair in frustration, Sebastian realised that he couldn’t even search the prison in case she had been moved to a different cell. It made him almost choke. MC could be anywhere in this vast tomb of horror, and he had neither the time or the resources to hunt for her.

Fear and fury twisted together and he felt like screaming, the burn of it choking up his throat as he swung his arm out, wand lighting up and blasting a huge ball of fire down the corridor in his rage. The prisoners screamed and yelled, the clanging sound of tin cups on bars filling the air and the rasping, maddening cackle of the crone in her cell.

Ignoring Rosier’s attempts to calm him down, Sebastian rounded on the scrawny hag, his eyes narrowing. She stared at him through the bars, her eyes lit with gleeful madness.

“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” she crooned, wheezing with delight, her withered frame shaking with mirth. “All these pretty boys after the maiden fair.”

Sebastian stalked towards her, his wand up. The old bitch didn’t even flinch, her eyes pale and glowing with mischief as she eyed him. “Where is the girl from the cell opposite?” He demanded.

Her toothless grin was hideous, and his fingers flexed on his wand, his rage searing through his blood. MC had been within his grasp, and now she had been plucked out of thin air. Gone. 

“Tell me!” He yelled. “Where did she go?”

“Bloody hell, mate, easy,” Rosier said, stepping up beside him. “How is she going to know? She’s fucking insane. Look at her.”

The hag tittered, her gnarled fingers clutching excitedly at her bars. “Every maiden fair must have a prince to rescue her,” she rambled. She began to sway, her smile almost idiotic. “But, princes and men can be fickle. He left her, made her scream like he’d torn her heart asunder.”

“What does that mean?” Sebastian demanded, his breaths now shuddering into his lungs. “Who left her?” 

She went quiet, her eyes sly as she peered through the bars, her mouth curving into a wicked grin. “This one is jealous. Perhaps he is the villain here. He wants her for himself, but the prince came and took her away.”

Prewett’s name written in the book flashed up behind Sebastian’s eyes. Along with the memory from the pensieve and the sound of Prewett’s name on MC’s lips with that desperate look in her sunken gaze. Teeth clenching so tight it hurt, Sebastian’s fury seemed to flicker in front of his eyes. The very thought of Leander Prewett whisking MC away from under his nose like a knight on a white horse made his blood boil. That wasn’t how things were meant to be.

Why would he take MC out of here? It didn't make sense. 

This pathetic witch and her fairy tale taunts were too much, his jealous temper flaring in a white, hot spark that fizzed down his arm as he thrust his wand towards her. Her eyes screamed of madness, and it curdled his blood, the need to expel the horror made the curse burst from his lips.

“Crucio!”

Her howls of pain filled his ears, her skeletal face grotesque as she reeled back from the door, clattering to the floor like a bag of bones as red sparks flickered in the darkness. He waited for the satisfaction to come, but it didn't. The sight of the wretch bucking and screaming did nothing to ease his horror or his fury. Inflicting agony on this pathetic creature wouldn't bring MC back here, and yet he held the curse on her, trying to syphon out his pain. 

Those he loved kept being stolen from him, and he wasn't sure how many more times he could take it. 

“Bloody hell!” Rosier grabbed him, trying to pull Sebastian’s wand arm back. “What are you doing?”

Sebastian had lost sense of what was going on around him, his fury so thick and hot that he shoved Rosier back, slamming his hand against cold iron with a scream of rage. “Who took her? Where is MC?”

Gasping and drooling, the old crone trembled and clawed at the stone floor, her eyes rolling as she made guttural moans of pain despite the curse no longer holding her. Sebastian’s lip was curled in disgust, his eyes blazing whilst his heart seemed to squeeze behind his ribs. It felt like it had been drained bloodless. How could MC not be in her cell? How could she have left this place without him knowing about it? 

A cold thought entered his head, wiping out his fury in an instant, and he stilled, eyes horror struck as he glanced back at MC’s cell.

Was she dead? 

Immediate denial slammed through him, but he bent forward, unable to draw breath as the possibility refused to be quieted. He winced as his knees hit the hard stone, all colour draining from his face as he shook his head. Desperate now, he grabbed the bars of the hag’s door, his breathing shallow.

“Did she walk out of here?” He asked, his voice switching to pleading now. “Please, tell me she walked out. She can’t be…no. She isn’t dead. I would know.”

His hand fumbled into his pocket, fingers caressing over the bloodstone amulet, seeking reassurance. Surely, if MC were to be dead, the stone would cease to hold true to the pact. It would shatter into pieces, no longer useful or functional. Much like his heart if he ever lost her.

The hag turned her head, her bloodshot eyes fixing on him with a stare that made him feel even colder, goosebumps shivering along his arms and up his neck. Her mouth worked as she tried to speak, her chin slick with drool and blood where she had smashed her face when she fell. To Sebastian’s horror, she began to laugh. A rasping, gurgling chuckle that escalated into screeching howls of mad cackling, her head thrown back as she clutched at her wasted midriff.

Strong hands gripped him under his arms, hefting him upwards. “For fuck sake, Sallow. Get up!” Rosier berated, pulling Sebastian up to his feet. “We’ve got to run. Now!”

Recoiling from the mad wretch in her cell, Sebastian forced himself to look up, his eyes widening at the gathered mass of Dementors circling above them. “Shit,” he muttered.

“Come on,” Rosier said, pulling on his arm, his wand raised upwards. “Run, for Merlin’s sake!”

They ran, boots thudding on the stone as the other cells passed by in a blur, their breaths beginning to mist from the spreading ice of the Dementors presence. Wraiths began to swoop downwards, and the terrifying rattle of their breathing sounded loud in their ears. Sebastian saw the door to the Auror’s chambers and grabbed Rosier by the arm, hauling him towards it. He felt the brush of tattered robes ghost near his ear, and he ducked, turning swiftly on the spot and jabbing his wand upwards.

With a fierce glare on his face, he allowed his mind to fill with memories of better days, soft dreamy images of his friends at school, Anne running through the fields in Feldcroft with her hair wild about her rosy cheeks. He thought of nights secreted away in the Undercroft with a good book and even better company, summers with his parents sailing on the lochs, and the addictive taste of kisses with the girl who had stolen his soul at the sweet age of sixteen. 

Better times, happier times, before the darkness had come to claim him. 

“Expecto Patronum!”

The spell burst from his wand with such force he had to clamp two hands around it to hold it steady, the brilliant swell of white light filling the corridor and pressing the Dementors back. As the black wraiths spiralled upwards and away, chased by the white phantom of a leaping fox, Sebastian began to step backwards into the doorway. Rosier watched his Patronus charm with a look of awe on his face, the light of the magic reflecting in his blue eyes.

Slamming the door of the reception chamber open, Sebastian came to a stop before the long counter, bracing his hands against it whilst he caught his breath. Rosier gasped beside him, shaking his head as he planted his hands on his thighs.

“Get us out of here,” he panted. “I am done.”

Sebastian nodded, his gaze catching on the wooden boards hung on the wall opposite him, all the prisoner numbers and their images on display. Eyes moving swiftly, he came to where MC’s prisoner board should have been in the order of cell numbers, and his stomach turned to lead. The board was missing. A blank space with just an iron peg jutting from the stone. She really was gone. 

Dragging the heavy signing-in book towards him, he looked at the last two entries for her prisoner number. Harrington and Prewett, and then Prewett again yesterday. If anyone knew where she was, it was going to be Leander. His eyes narrowed in thought. It was time to have a little chat with Andrew Larson. He needed to get to Leander and fast. 

Taking hold of Rosier’s arm, he nodded and then Disapparated them out, his feet landing on the wooden floorboards of the small room in the Black Rose that he shared with Rosier. With a flick of his wand, he lit the lamp, pushing back the darkness, craving some warmth and normality after the dark oppression of the prison. Slumping in relief and defeat, Sebastian sat down hard on the edge of the bed, his head in his hands. How had it gone so horribly wrong?

Rookwood was going to be furious. They had risked their necks going into that prison, and they had come out empty-handed. Solomon had always said he would amount to nothing, and no doubt would side with Ominis and Anne over his choice of companions lately, but to fuck up at something like this. Solomon would be laughing from his grave, no doubt. 

“I always knew you would end up a failure, boy.” 

Shuddering at the darker memories of his childhood struggles, Sebastian shoved them away, his insecurities starting to eat into him. His fury now dissipated, Sebastian felt the ball of grief in his chest swell, and he swallowed through it, rubbing his face at the loss of MC all over again.

“What the fuck was that all about back there, Seb?” Rosier asked, still getting his breath back. “You cast Crucio on that crone, and for what? She was crazy, talking about a load of rubbish. Why get so mad?” 

Sebastian glanced up at Rosier, once again lamenting his need to keep the man at arms length. When people knew too much, they became a liability, and he rather liked Leo. Losing his temper back at the prison had revealed his hand, and he mulled over his words as he looked up at his camp mate. 

“It was fucked up,” he admitted, shaking his head. “I will be lucky if Rookwood doesn't torture my own arse the same way for failing.” 

Rosier studied him, slowly taking a seat on the twin bed opposite Sebastian, drumming his fingers on the faded bedspread. 

“This girl, this MC. Just what, exactly, does she mean to you, Seb?” He asked, drawing his lower lip into his mouth thoughtfully. “You lost your shit when you realised she was gone, and when you mentioned her being dead, you were as white as a sheet. How would you know if she was dead? What's going on? There's more to this, isn't there?” 

Sebastian pressed his fingers to his lips, eyeing Rosier with a sinking realisation that he had definitely revealed too much. He had managed to deflect his questions in the Leaky Cauldron, but Rosier was as smart as a whip, and Sebastian wouldn't be able to fool him for long. With a sigh, he let his hands drop between his thighs, his expression one of defeated exhaustion as he looked at Rosier. He was tired, so very tired of feeling alone.

“She means something to me,” he confessed. “I thought I was going to get her back tonight, and yet her cell was empty. After four long years of waiting, I feel like I just lost her all over again.” 

Rosier closed his eyes and nodded, glancing down at his booted feet for a moment before speaking. “Does Rookwood know?” 

“He probably suspects,” Sebastian admitted. “I've never openly talked about it, only that I know her.” 

“And Lulu?” Rosier lifted his gaze to Sebastian, his eyebrows lifted in enquiry about the beautiful witch. 

Sebastian groaned and shook his head. “She hasn't heard a thing from me about MC, so if she knows anything, it's whatever her father has told her.” 

“Merlin’s beard, Seb. You walk a tight line, don't you?” Rosier smirked. “I've always had the feeling you've got deep secrets. But, I never realised just how close to the edge you walked with Rookwood. Withholding information, fucking his daughter on the sly…are you trying to get yourself killed?”  

Sebastian matched Rosier’s smirk and shrugged. “What's life without a little adventure?” 

“You're a slippery bastard, Sallow,” Rosier huffed, shaking his head. He pushed his fingers through his blonde hair and smiled. “I won't say anything about your prisoner girl. I have to say, though, I'm rather looking forward to meeting her. All this excitement surrounding her, she sounds like fun.” 

Sebastian narrowed his eyes. “You'll be keeping your hands to yourself, Rosier,” he warned. “Not only do I know where they've been, it would be a shame to hex them. They are rather useful in a scrap.” 

Rosier laughed, falling back onto his bed and holding his hands up. “I swear to all gods known to man, I won't make a play for her.” 

“Then I guess we can remain friends,” Sebastian smirked, laying back on his own bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling.

A quiet settled over the room as both men processed the last hour or so, shadows of darker memories trying to creep into Sebastian’s thoughts, the echo of the old crones screams pressing on his conscience. 

“MC means that much to you, and yet wasn't she serving time for doing your uncle in?” Rosier asked, turning to look at him.

Sebastian worried at his lower lip, keeping his gaze fixed upwards as he thought about Solomon and his cruel mouth, his swinging fists, and unforgiving eyes. 

“My uncle was a mean bastard,” Sebastian said flatly. “MC was the only one who really understood.” 

She had understood, and she remained at his side. She had bled for him, lied for him, and she had spent four years in that chilling nightmare of a place for him. Seeing the reality of Azkaban and remembering the image of her in that pensieve memory, the leaden ball in his chest that held his guilt and grief seemed to spread into every fibre of his being. Had he really done enough to help her? Her sacrifices were huge in comparison to his efforts to save her, and it weighed heavily on him, his fingers caressing the scar on his palm. 

That old hag had called him a villain of MC's story, and Sebastian had retaliated by hitting her with the Cruciatus curse. A curse he had cast on MC in the Scriptorium in order to save himself. Maybe he was the villain of her life, and the thought was not a comfortable one. Next to him, Prewett would be a knight in shining armour, a prince coming to save the maiden fair. 

“So, she killed him for you?” Rosier asked. The question hung heavy in the air, rather close to the bone in truth. She didn't take Solomon down, but she took the fall. She did it for him. 

“I owe her everything, Leo,” Sebastian said with a sigh. “I've got to find her. Whatever it takes.” 

“Then we find her,” Rosier said with finality. “What's the plan? Are we still going to track this Auror down that you knew?” 

“That's top of the list,” Sebastian said, determination darkening his gaze. “Prewett knows where she is. His name was in that prison ledger, inked by his own fucking hand, and that nasty crone pretty much told us that MC left with a man. It was him. I know it was.” 

“Then that's what we'll do. As long as Rookwood doesn't kill us first.” 

Sebastian threw Rosier a smirk as he adjusted the lumpy pillow under his head. “I'd like to see him try. He talks a big game, but I reckon I could take him easily enough. He'd be too scared to get his gentleman's coat dirty in a real fight. That's why he has men like Carrow around to do the hard work.” 

Rosier chuckled. “Do you reckon you could take Carrow?” 

Sebastian’s grin split his face, his eyes gleaming at the thought. “You're looking at a duelling champion here, mate. I take great pleasure in bringing down bastards like Carrow. I took Prewett down a few times during the duelling matches we used to fight. He might have passed the Auror Program, but I could still take him on.” 

The villain against the white knight. He had never wanted to be a villain. He wanted to be the one MC needed. He would rather be her white knight than bring any more darkness into her life. The shadows of their secrets probably made that impossible, so if he had to, he would take on the darker role. He knew that he would do whatever it took to get her back, especially now, no matter how dark. 

For once, Sebastian wanted the villain to win the maiden fair, his chest aching at the absence of MC. They could rewrite the trope. Together. She should have been here with him tonight, beside him, where he could hold her close. Whether for her comfort or his own, he wasn't sure who needed it more. 

MC

Everything was so clean and bright that her eyes burned in their sockets, her trembling fingers shielding them from the glare of the real world. There were no screams here, no sobbing and wailing, no banging of cups against cold iron. There was just peaceful quietness, the soft sound of the breeze outside the window, and the distant chirp of a bird singing their joy. A fire crackled in the hearth, filling the room with warmth that felt like an inferno compared to the cold stone of Azkaban, and yet still MC shivered.

The room she stood in was charming. A picture-perfect image of a country cottage, with an inglenook fireplace and a bowl of fruit on the table. There was a high backed armchair near the fire, similar to those found in the common room, and a settee with deep cushions. Leander had called it a safe house, and she wondered how true that was. It did look soft and warm, inviting, and yet she stood there almost recoiling from it all. 

She felt out of place, fractured, like she had wandered into someone else's dreams, and she did not belong. The soft rug beneath her filthy feet was a strange sensation, her toes curling experimentally into what felt like a guilty pleasure. Eyes brimming with tears from the overwhelming emotions swarming in her chest, MC looked up at the man standing next to her, his fingers slipping from her elbow where he had held her to Apparate. 

How strange to look at Leander now and be wary of his proximity, and yet she also craved for him to be close, to stand right beside her so that he could hold her up should her wobbling knees buckle. It was dangerous to be so dependent on a person. She used to pride herself on being able to stand against whatever life threw at her, but her eyes were drawn to the tall Auror who had whisked her out of captivity, fearing that he might vanish at any moment and leave her lost and alone. Feeling this fragile had her slamming her walls up out of habit, but there were no Dementors here.

She was no longer in Azkaban. She was free. 

The sight of Leander at her cell door after the way he had left her had set her pulse flying, hardly daring to believe he was really there after the way he had said goodbye to her, leaving her screaming for him at her cell door. When he had placed the release parchment into her hands, she had stared at the inked words, trying to make sense of this new turnaround to events. Her cold demand to Harrington in the questioning chamber had earned her freedom, her answers enough to revoke charges and reduce her sentence. The details of the probation seemed like child’s play compared to the horror one faced within the walls of that prison, and she had signed the papers immediately, ignoring the offer of twenty four hours to think about it. What was there to think about? Why stay another day in that hell when she could be free?

Now, though, now that she was out of the dark walls of oppressive cold, she felt the urge to seek out more darkness. It was as though the light would burn her, expose her, and leave her vulnerable. Would her mental walls of protection work out here? Who were her enemies now that she had escaped the malice of the Dementors?

How at ease Leander looked in these lovely surroundings, how neat his clothes, his pretty copper hair shining in the sunlight filtering through the window. Tall, with wide shoulders and slim hips, long graceful fingers, his pale skin sprinkled with dozens of freckles. He stood with confidence, sure of his place in the world, and she envied him. Where did she fit now?

“A Healer will be along shortly to take a look at you. Make sure you are alright,” he said with a soft smile. “There are clean clothes for you in the bedroom and a bath so that you can get cleaned up. The store cupboard is stocked so you won’t go hungry. Would you like me to make you something?”

MC stared at him, her arms wrapped around her midriff as she trembled on the pretty rug, feeling like the ground had been ripped out from under her feet. In the last 24 hours she had been strapped into a chair and questioned, and then he had left her, leaving her sobbing on her cell floor thinking she would be alone in the dark again, and then the appearance of the strange woman in the hooded cloak that had made her question her sanity. 

Now, she was here, with him. He had pulled her out of that darkness, bringing her to an image of domestic bliss. His calmness grated on the frayed edges of her nerves. The choking maelstrom of emotions in her chest seemed to fizz through her veins, and she clenched her hands into fists, her face contorting into fury. The smile slipped from his lips as she glared at him.

“Give me my wand,” she hissed, her eyes glowing with fire. “I don’t care about the stocked cupboard and your bath, I just want my wand.” 

Leander paled, licking his lips as he moved towards her, his hands out. “Your wand isn’t here. It’s still in secure lock up at the Ministry,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, MC.”

Finally, she moved, backing up away from him. Her eyes darted to the side as she sought an exit route, the over stimulation making her mind scream for quiet darkness. “Save your apologies,” she spat, her adrenaline making her shakes become more pronounced as she skirted the settee. His hands reached out again, and she flinched away. “Don’t touch me!”

If he touched her, she would crumble, and she was barely holding up the walls of her defences as it was. It was all so surreal, so outlandish and wrong. She needed her wand. She needed security.  

“Okay, I’m sorry. I won’t touch you,” he said, holding his hands up. “But you need to calm down. You are safe here. I won’t let anything happen to you, and this house is warded so nobody can get in or out without permission.”

“So, I am just as much a prisoner here as in Azkaban?” She screeched, her eyes becoming wider, filled with desperate panic. The notion that this might be a trap entered her head, and now she couldn’t shake it, her heart hammering so fast she thought she might pass out. “I can’t do this. I need to get out.”

In her haste to escape, she bumped her leg against a side table, making the lamp there wobble precariously. She stumbled, catching herself on the arm of the settee. She pulsed with the need to flee, to run, to hide. Never would she have imagined that she would miss her cell, but right now, it was the only sanctuary she could think of, encased in the dark walls.

“Where are you going?” He asked, hurrying around the back of the settee to cut her off.

“Away from you,” she ground out, reaching to grab a cushion from the settee, the soft plushness of it a shock to her hands. The urge to squeeze it was almost like an ache, but she ignored it, heaving the cushion towards Leander’s head as she scrambled in the opposite direction to him.

Of course, he caught it, tossing it aside as he hurried after her. Her feet thudded across the wooden floor towards a door, her hands grabbing for the handle, but she was infuriatingly weak, and he caught up to her easily. To his credit, he didn’t touch her. He just slammed his hands against the door to prevent her from opening it, his body towering over hers and effectively pinning her against the wood.

“Please, don’t run from me,” he said, an edge to his voice. “I would never hurt you, MC. I meant it when I said that.”

Panting, her trembling frame pressed up against the door, she refused to look up at him. She kept her gaze fixed on her hands wrapped around the door handle. Her legs were shaking so badly she feared she would fall, her ears roared with her pulse and she felt the tell tale sting of tears behind her eyes.

“You lied,” she rasped. The walls around the cavern in her chest cracked, a whimper leaving her lips as she sagged against the door, her fingers bone white with her grip around the handle. “You left me.”

Leander’s hands slid slowly from the door, and he backed up, her eyes blinking up towards him and catching the look of devastation on his face, his soft lips parted. He shook his head in denial, his gaze one of sad regret. “You will never know how hard it was to walk away from you like that.”

MC squeezed her eyes shut, unable to bear that softness, that look on his face that sent tendrils of warmth around her ribs, seeking a way in. She couldn’t let him in, not again. He had walked away, and left her feeling so hollow. Her pride was a broken thing, her head was spinning with a thousand thoughts, and there was still too much light in the room.

Sucking in a shuddering breath, she twisted the door handle and pulled the door open to reveal the well stocked food larder. The irony was not lost on her as she stared at tins of food, a basket of bread sat on a shelf, and herbs were hanging from hooks along the far wall. She huffed a laugh of disbelief at the sight, a cracked chuckle that quickly shifted into tears that scalded her cheeks as they leaked from her eyes.

“MC…”

“I don’t know how to do this,” she sobbed, bringing her hands to her face. 

Gentle hands on her shoulders had her turning on the spot, the firmness of his chest pressed against her cheek as his arms enveloped her, holding her in an embrace that dissolved the rest of her defences. Her fingers curled into his waistcoat, her tears leaking into the snowy whiteness of his shirt as she breathed in his scent, something that was becoming so familiar to her. 

“You won’t be doing this alone,” he assured her, his hands sliding up the length of her spine until he was cupping the back of her head. “I’m your probation Auror, remember? And I think we both know that this has become more than just a job to me, MC. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

The ancient power that slumbered in her veins meant that she didn’t really need anyone to protect her. If anything, she was more dangerous than the worst of the Ashwinders once she had a wand in her hand. But, for now, she let Leander hold her and tell her that she would be safe. He took her hand and led her to another door, opening it to reveal a bedroom beyond. He paused in the doorway and nodded for her to go in.

“I’ll let you get yourself sorted out,” he said, his hand lingering on hers before he stepped back. “I’ll be right out here if you need anything. Alright?”

Backing into the room, she stared up at him. The risks he had taken, the kindness he had shown, it was more than any other Auror would have done for her. It was true. This was more than just another assigned job for him. Again, she was reminded of how dangerous it was to become close to him. How addictive his warmth was becoming, and whilst craving just that, she was also wary of it.

As the door clicked shut, her hands and forehead pressed against it, a stifled moan of grief tried to escape her lips. She didn’t even know what she was grieving for, but she felt so empty, so heavy and yet faded, like she would drift away into nothing.

Turning, she gazed around a bedroom, just as cosy and warm as the main room. There was a double bed made up with white sheets and thick blankets, and a vase of flowers sat on the bedside table beside a stack of books. Light bathed the space through a window that looked out across fields, the gentle roll of hills in the distance. She had no idea where she was. She could be anywhere. 

Gasping in her breaths, she hurried to the window and gripped the floral curtains, yanking them closed to block out the light. The room darkened, but it wasn’t enough. Tight panic gripped her chest again, and she dived for a shadowed corner beside a wardrobe, drawing up her knees and wrapping her arms tightly around her legs. Shivering and gasping, she pressed her forehead to her knees and bit back her scream, tears flooding her eyes.

Maybe she wasn’t as free as she first thought. The darkness still held her in its grip, and Leander could only do so much to hold her shadows at bay. 

….*....

Stomach hollow with hunger, and her eyes tight and raw from tears, MC sat on the seat before the dressing table and stared at her reflection. The girl who stared back was a stranger. In the dim light of the room, her pale skin looked ghostly, drawn tight over the jut of her bones. Her hair was long and lifeless, but it was her eyes that chilled her the most. She recognised them as her own, but the haunted darkness that dwelled in them spoke of loneliness and loss. The girl she once knew was long gone. 

She looked down at her hands, her fingers so pink and clean, the skin puckered like dried fruit from soaking in warm bath water for so long. It had taken three baths to get her clean. The first left the water so black she'd climbed out almost straight away. By the third, she had just sunk under the warmth of the rose scented water, waiting for the comforting feeling to seep into her bones, but it didn't.

After the fire of her tantrum earlier, she now felt numb. She had cried until her chest had hurt, rocking back and forth, her fingers tracing constantly over the scar on her palm. At last, her memories could flood her mind, no longer at risk from being sucked away by the Dementors kiss. Her longing to look upon Sebastian one more time was joined by the fear that he wouldn't even know her, that he had moved on with his life and she was just some girl he used to know. 

There was no one else in the world to wait for her. She had no family, and she was sure her friends from Hogwarts would want nothing to do with a murderer. Sebastian was the only one who knew her truth. Closing her eyes, she tried to picture him, the boy she knew. 

Sighing softly, she shook her head and looked into the mirror again. No longer a child, she was a woman, and Sebastian would be a man. No doubt he looked different now, perhaps taller and stronger, like Leander. She imagined he was just as handsome, though. Four years was a long time, and she wondered if he had found love with someone new. 

Could she blame him if he had? The years stolen from them stretched out like a lifetime. Surely, he would be a different person now, just as she didn’t recognise the girl staring back at her in the looking glass. 

Pushing the thought aside before she began to cry again, she stood, smoothing her hands down the front of the pale blue blouse she had chosen from the wardrobe. She couldn't deny the simple pleasure of clean clothes, although she had left the corset where she had found it and chose trousers instead of a skirt. She'd never been one for airs and graces, and she wasn't about to start now. 

Moving towards the door, she pressed her ear against it, her brow furrowing slightly at the soft sound of voices coming from the main room on the other side. Slowly, she turned the handle and opened the door, peering out.

At the table sat Leander, a teapot and cups laid out before him, and in a chair adjacent to him sat a beautiful, dark-haired woman. MC’s eyes narrowed as she studied this woman, recognising her as the Auror from Leander’s memory in the pensieve. She had suggested that Leander make her talk by implying that Sebastian was in a relationship with Rookwood’s daughter.

Her mouth tightened with instant dislike. She watched as they talked together, the woman reaching out to touch her hand to Leander’s arm. His cheeks flushed pink, his gaze rather bashful as this simpering bitch fluttered her dark lashes at him. MC’s stomach coiled tightly and she swung the door open wider, stepping out into the room to reveal herself. Leander glanced up, his eyes widening as they swept over her.

“MC…wow…you look…Do you feel better?” He stuttered, getting to his feet. He reached for another cup and placed it before the empty chair on his other side. “Let me pour you some tea. Come, join us. I would like you to meet my colleague, Odessa McKinnon. She will be taking some of the watches here with you, starting with later on this evening.” 

MC moved closer as Leander poured tea from the pot, slipping into the chair that Leander hurried to hold out for her whilst keeping her suspicious gaze on McKinnon. Leander tucked her chair in, his fingers grazing her shoulder as he moved to return to his own chair. Cleaner than she had been in years, and feeling slightly more human now that she was dressed in proper clothes, MC felt her spine stiffen as McKinnon gave her the once over.

“It’s lovely to finally meet you, MC,” she purred, one beautifully shaped eyebrow arching slightly as she lifted her tea cup. “I have heard so much about you, all your notorious deeds and wonderful magic. I have to admit, I have been rather intrigued.”

“You’re here to watch me tonight?” MC asked, her voice flat calm. She turned the saucer holding her teacup on the table top, relieved that her fingers did not tremble as she did so, her eyes cold and blank as she stared at the smug woman. “Aren’t you concerned that I might try to kill you?”

Leander hissed air through his teeth in a gasp. McKinnon didn’t move a muscle, but there was a subtle flare in her eyes as she put down her cup. “Out of prison a mere few hours and you’re already risking being thrown back inside,” she tutted. “I didn’t take you for a fool, MC.”

“But you take me for a murderer, correct? I have previous experience in that department. The man whom I thought to be Rookwood disappeared into a cloud of ash by my hands. They would have a hard time proving I did anything to you without a body as evidence,” MC said coolly. Her eyes glittered with cold malice as she lifted her cup and took a sip, the hot liquid washing over her tongue and making it tingle, the flavour blooming inside her mouth after years of tepid water. 

Leander rubbed his hand against the back of his neck, his eyes disapproving as he glanced her way, but she only smiled as she returned her cup to its saucer. McKinnon flicked an uneasy frown in Leander's direction and shifted in her chair. “You haven’t tried to hurt Prewett, so your heart can’t be that cold, love,” she said, tilting her head. “If you are trying to scare me, it won’t work. I’ve seen much nastier dark wizards than you.”

“I shall take that as a challenge, then,” MC said with a smirk. She slid her eyes towards a rather awkward looking Leander, and her gaze softened. “Besides, why would I want to hurt Leander? I rather like him. You, on the other hand...”

MC's eyes hardened again on those last words, the instant dislike she had for this Auror setting her teeth on edge. She would need to ensure that her defences were on full alert around this one, there was a gleam in her eyes that MC did not like, a smug assurance that took some of the edge off her beauty. If only she could have her wand.

McKinnon shifted in her seat again, perhaps not as smug as she was trying to portray as she leant her elbow on the table top, her hand supporting her chin. “Luckily, I enjoy a challenge, too,” she said, her eyes becoming devious slits. “Speaking of challenges. Your old flame, Sebastian Sallow, is rather handy with a wand, isn’t he? He put up quite the fight when I tracked him down in Glasgow. Quite the handsome devil, too. I can see why you liked him.”

MC stiffened, her fingers twitching to grip against the table top at the mention of Sebastian’s name. McKinnon’s smile was far too arrogant, too knowing. 

“Rookwood’s daughter seems to think so as well. Quite the striking pair they make when they fight,” McKinnon continued.

Leander sighed and shook his head. “Perhaps we should keep the conversation to more relevant topics, ladies,” he suggested.

“How is Sebastian not relevant?” McKinnon asked, shifting her gaze to Leander. “He is in deep with Rookwood, and MC needs to be prepared.”

Trying to keep her temper was difficult considering the violent swing of her emotions today, but MC did her best to sit still and keep her mouth clamped tightly shut. She knew what this bitch was doing. She was trying to bait her, to wind her up and make her show her hand, and MC didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of succeeding. This is what McKinnon had suggested Leander do to her, her snide comments revealed in Leander's pensieve memory, but he hadn’t done it. 

Her hands came together, her fingers touching against the scar on her palm, a reminder that Sebastian would never turn his back on her. He couldn’t. Just like she could never turn her back on him. As difficult as it was to think of him being with Rookwood’s daughter, if that is what he wanted, then what could she do? The very thought of him touching another woman made her stomach twist, sadness engulfing the dark space in her chest at the loss of what could have been, but she would never allow McKinnon the satisfaction of knowing that. No matter how harshly it scraped along her deepest fears. 

“I am well aware of how Sebastian fights. We used to train together,” MC said, shrugging her shoulders as if she was not concerned. “When the time comes for me to track down the Ashwinders, I can’t see it being a problem. Like you said, I have such wonderful magic available at my fingertips, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

“Now, that is a showdown I would pay good galleons to see,” McKinnon said. Her sly smirk swung towards Leander. “Perhaps the idea of sending her into the pits is a good one, after all.” 

“What pits?” MC asked, glancing between them. 

McKinnon chuckled and got to her feet, taking her robe from the back of her chair to put on. Leander stood too, always the gentleman, stepping forward to help her with her robe. MC watched them both, noticing the flirty gleam in McKinnon's eyes as she smiled at Leander when she thanked him. 

“I'm sure Prewett will fill you in on all the details regarding the pits,” she said, pulling on a pair of black leather gloves. Her smug smile lifted her lips. “I have some errands to run, so I shall say goodbye for now. I will return for my watch duty later.” 

“I can't wait,” MC muttered, rolling her eyes. 

Leander walked her towards the door that led outside, MC watching through narrowed eyes as McKinnon touched her hand to his arm again. 

“I will see you later,” she said, leaning in a little, her voice low and intimate. “And I shall tell Harrington that you will meet him as suggested.”

Leander nodded, that delicate blush staining his cheeks again. “Thank you, Odessa.” 

Watching the exchange, MC realised she hadn't given much thought to what Leander's personal life might be like. She had only seen him as the Auror in his visits, with glimpses of the boy she remembered from their short time together at school. For the first time, she wondered what he liked, the kind of books he read, or what his favourite food was. 

Did he have a lover? Watching him with McKinnon, she didn't think they were that close, but perhaps the suggestion of something more being possible lingered in their glances and smiles. The idea was oddly repulsive, and MC's mouth tightened with disapproval as she sat back in the chair and folded her arms. 

Leander returned to the table and began to gather up the teacups after McKinnon had left. MC watched him, her gaze following him as he took the cups to the sink under the window. 

“What are the pits?” She asked.

He turned to face her, brushing his hands together. “There is an illegal duelling club that takes place in the new London underground train tunnels. Rookwood is involved, and his Ashwinders take part in fights for money.”

Her eyebrows shot up with interest. “So, it's like a bigger, more dangerous version of Crossed Wands?” 

Leander huffed a laugh and came back to the table and picked up the teapot. “Definitely more dangerous. People die down there,” he said pointedly. He held up the teapot. “Would you like some more?” 

MC nodded and slid her cup forward to be refilled. “That delightful colleague of yours suggested I would be sent to these illegal duelling fights. Why is that?” 

Leander bit his lip. “That hasn't been agreed upon yet. We need to do some more investigating first before we even consider sending you down there. It could be a good way to infiltrate you into the gang.” 

“Does Sebastian duel there?” 

Leander slowly put down the teapot and placed his hands on the back of his chair. She could see the reluctance in his eyes, but she needed to know, almost holding her breath as she waited. 

“I can't say for sure that he does, but it is likely he will be there,” he said. He met her eyes. “Would you be alright with that? I don't want to place you in situations that might be difficult.” 

Whilst her pulse raced, MC once again maintained a cool approach, shrugging her shoulders as she picked up her tea. “I can handle myself. I wouldn't make a very good spy for you if I couldn't. I will be fine.” 

Leander pulled back his chair and sat down facing her. He placed a hand on the table top near hers but didn't touch her. 

“I meant it when I said I didn't want to hurt you, and that includes placing you in dangerous situations. I know you can handle yourself, but that doesn't mean I won't be concerned. Harrington and I are going to check these duelling pits out later and see what they are like,” he said. “McKinnon will be here while I am gone, and I will tell you what I can once I return. Nothing will be finalised until I speak with you first.” 

It was so very hard to maintain that cold exterior when he looked at her like that, his eyes so open and earnest, but she kept her face still as she returned his gaze. She tried to imagine him in a highly dangerous situation, tried to picture the transition from soft hearted Lee to a fighting Auror, and it wasn't easy. 

Her hand shifted on the table top, her little finger brushing up against the warmth of his hand. 

“Be careful while you're gone,” she said quietly. Her lips twitched ever so slightly. “Don't leave me alone with that smug bitch for too long. I'd rather not risk being sent back to Azkaban, but I won't rule out the desire to slap her irritatingly perfect face.”  

He looked down to where she was touching him, and she saw his throat work as he swallowed. “I will only be there a few hours, and then I will come back. I promise. Try and get some sleep. McKinnon isn't so bad once you get to know her. We trained together.” 

MC stared into his eyes, the air feeling heavy between them. “She fancies you,” she murmured and watched as a deep flush coloured his freckled cheeks. 

“We are just colleagues,” he assured her, touching his fingers to his tie to straighten it. “She is naturally flirtatious. She does it with everyone, not just me.” 

“Would you like it to be just you she flirts with? The way she looked at you makes me think you are in with a chance there.”

“I’m not sure if that’s entirely appropriate,” he gulped.

Leander cleared his throat, his fingers now fiddling with his tie, rearranging it and ensuring it was tucked neatly into his waistcoat. His flush now darkened his neck, and his gaze skipped away from her as he stood.

MC felt a genuine smile twitch at her lips, seeing the awkward, flustered boy from their youth as he tried to calm his fluster. She reached out and took hold of his hand, her thumb sweeping over the softness of his palm.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to tease you, Lee,” she said gently before letting her gaze dip to their joined hands. It was surprising how just that brief and gentle contact could bring such comfort. Reluctantly, she let him go. “Besides, your personal life is none of my business. Forgive me.”

The look that they shared lingered, the moment feeling heavy and poised in the silence of the room. MC felt the hair rise on the back of her neck, a deep ache swelling within her to feel like she belonged somewhere, the black cavern in her chest warping with a loneliness that stole her breath.

“Let me fix you something to eat,” Leander said, breaking the strange tension in the room. “You must be hungry. I could make you a sandwich?”

MC blinked, nodding quickly as she compressed the confusing ache within her, masking it with her walls of cold stone. She was hungry. Although, when Leander placed down the plate onto the table before her, she stared at the cheese sandwich and wondered how she would ever be able to swallow it over the tightness in her throat. 

The first bite filled her mouth with stinging surprise, all the texture and flavour so strange against her tongue as she chewed. It had been so long since she had eaten normal food, and as she took more mouthfuls, she began to chew faster. Her stomach gnawed with ravenous hunger, and she ate the entire sandwich, her belly rumbling and squeaking at the new contents she had thrown into it. Immediately, she felt very full, her hand rubbing over her stomach carefully as she groaned.

“It’s probably best to start with small meals until your stomach gets used to eating again,” Leander said, smiling at her like a proud parent across the table. “You will be eating roast dinners before you know it.”

“Thank you,” she said, meeting his gaze, and she didn’t just mean for the sandwich.

He nodded, a knock at the door breaking the moment before it could become loaded again like before. They both turned to look towards the door, and Leander stood. “Ah, that will be the Healer,” he said. “Perfect timing.”

As Leander went to open the door and greet the Healer, MC remained at the table, her belly full and her body feeling clean from head to toes. Although the future stretched out huge and uncertain before her, for the first time since her feet landed on the perfectly swept floors of this house, she thought maybe she could do this after all. 

Sebastian

Keeping a lid on his own rage was increasingly difficult as those around him spoke with raised voices, the private room at the back of The Black Rose pub filled with Rookwood’s closest henchmen. Sebastian and Rosier stood near the wall, watching as all hell broke loose, each man having his own piece to say on what they thought the Ministry was up to.

“Since when is a prisoner released without some kind of announcement in the Daily Prophet,” Carrow said, his eyes narrow and suspicious. “Especially a high profile prisoner such as this girl. It was all over the front page when she was convicted and sent to Azkaban. I don’t like it.”

Rookwood sat at the head of the table rubbing his chin slowly, his face in deep thought, his eyes shifting towards Sebastian with a dark look. “This had better not be a trick, Sallow,” he said darkly. “You didn’t get her out and hide her somewhere, did you?”

Sebastian clenched his fists, his face darkening at the suggestion. Rosier tapped his fingers against his elbow, his blue eyes flashing with a warning to be careful.

“You can take the very memory from my head if you doubt me so much,” Sebastian offered, straightening his spine. “Believe me, I’m just as pissed off as you are. We risked our necks going into that place. If anyone is up to trickery, it’s that bitch, Black Dahlia.”

Rookwood hummed thoughtfully, his gaze sliding back to Carrow. “Any word from our little whisperer?”

“Not a thing,” Carrow said, his mouth tight. 

Sebastian’s top lip curled with his disgust and fury. There was no love lost when it came to Black Dahlia where he was concerned, but his patience was wearing dangerously thin, his hand lingering near his wand in its holster. He folded his arms and leant against the wall, chewing at his lower lip in frustration, his head drifting into a darker place as he considered painful ways of making her talk.

At the table beside Rookwood sat his daughter, Luella, her blonde curls held up in a twist, loose strands breaking free to hang around her face. She was sitting quietly, taking in the words spoken by those around her, but her gaze kept drifting over towards Sebastian. Her blue eyes were lit with a familiar gleam as they passed over him, lingering on his mouth and wandering downwards over his body with a hunger that had once stirred him. 

She had arrived yesterday, curious and eager to meet the escaped prisoner, but had walked into the angry fallout of MC being missing. Last night, Sebastian had dodged her questions, soaking his innards in shots of whiskey to try and drown out the deep ache in his chest. When her hands had wandered, her lips soft against his ear, he had been tempted, but eventually spurned her advances outside his bedroom door. His bleary gaze had wandered over her hair, her eyes, the shape of her mouth, and it was all wrong. She wasn’t MC. 

Here, in the meeting room, he was careful to avoid holding her gaze for too long. He needed to keep his distance from her, his main focus now being the seeking out of Leander Prewett and tracking down MC. 

He had managed to corner Larson this morning, coercing him into a side alley near Gringotts Bank, and he’d asked him about Prewett. Larson hadn’t changed much since school, but he had surprised Sebastian with a steely determination not to be pushed around. Sebastian had changed tactics swiftly, using his silver tongue to suggest that he just wanted to talk to Prewett, that he had information that could prove useful. He had sent the blonde Ravenclaw off with assurances that his message would be passed on. 

Rookwood stood up, adjusting his long gentleman’s coat, his eyes softening briefly as he glanced Luella’s way. He cast his eyes around the room, his eyes lit with a devilish gleam. “Let’s not fret, ladies and gentlemen. We’ll get to the truth of it in due course,” he said, his gaze landing on Sebastian. “Sallow is already chasing a lead within the Ministry, and once Black Dahlia shows her face, her lips had better start moving. For now, let us enjoy some entertainment. There are fights to bet on in the pits, and whores to slake our lusts. I say we adjourn to the tunnels and start the night early.”

A rousing murmur of agreement went up around the room, and Rosier grinned beside Sebastian. “I’m up for that,” he said, pulling a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket and tucking one between his lips. He held the packet out to Sebastian, but he waved him off. “Are you coming, Sallow?”

Sebastian turned his gaze from Luella and considered Rosier’s question, his fingers caressing along the handle of his wand. “Actually, I could do with a damned good scrap,” he said thoughtfully, the burn of his frustration like an itch in his veins. “A few fast duels ought to satiate the hunger.”

“Or you could put Lulu out of her misery,” Rosier smirked, shaking his head. “Honestly, the eye fucking is becoming too obvious. I’m surprised Daddy Rookwood hasn’t picked up on it yet.”

Sebastian huffed and began to walk towards the door, following the others as they filed out of the room. Rosier joined him, and Sebastian leaned in to speak quietly. “I’m done with all that,” he muttered. “I’ve got bigger things to worry about. If you want to hit her up, go for it. Maybe she will leave me alone once you’ve got your hands on her.”

Rosier looked doubtful. “Lulu has always been picky with her men. She’s only got eyes for you, mate. But, you know me, I’ll give any ride a go.”

Sebastian’s mouth spread into a grin as he looked towards his friend, slinging an arm about his shoulders as they entered the bar of The Black Rose. “I do know you,” he said, ruffling Rosier’s dark, blonde hair. “And I appreciate your enthusiasm for life. Come on, let’s get down into those pits and inflict some damage. My wand is thirsty for some action.”

Leander

Despite it being the evening, the Auror office was just as busy, some at their desks whilst others were having meetings or gathering files for cases. Leander made his way through the desk cubicles, heading for his own to check if the file containing the gathered evidence for the duelling pits was there. He always liked to refresh his thoughts on the most recent information before heading out for field work. Knowledge was power, and going down into those tunnels was risky enough without knowing plenty of details.

His desk was as neat as he had left it, his files stored in a perfect pile in his tray. He flicked through them quickly, frowning slightly as he couldn’t find the one he was looking for. He glanced over at the untidy chaos of McKinnon’s desk and sighed, moving over to begin checking her scattered folders, but it wasn’t there either. Harrington’s desk turned up nothing, and so he headed towards the researcher's room in the hope it was there rather than being back in the archives.

The team of researchers that worked for the British Auror Office were methodical fact checkers, gathering and storing any evidence attained by Aurors and ensuring it was all filed correctly. They were also rather good at picking out patterns in evidence, and they were often an invaluable asset in solving cases. If Leander hadn’t managed to pass the tough Auror program, he had thought to become a researcher as a backup career. It was the pursuit of justice without the field work and fighting, all from the comfort of a desk inside the sanctuary of the Ministry. 

As Leander walked down the hall towards the research offices, his head was filled with thoughts of MC. The knowledge that she was safely tucked away in the safe house, warm and comfortable, made some of the tension ease from his shoulders. Seeing her out of that dark and cold prison had brought a lump to his throat, especially when she had stepped out of the bedroom dressed in clean clothes, her hair soft about her face, her skin still slightly pink from her bath. He had been glad that McKinnon had been there to stop him from immediately going to her, his fingers aching to brush against the lines of her cheek, the pull of her stronger than ever despite his effort to hold back.

This case was so big, and she was a key part of it, he could not afford to mess this up. He had to be so careful, but one look at her big, haunted eyes was enough to make that soft part of himself that he hid so carefully behind his ribs, swell to a chest tightening bloom. It was a lesson in restraint to keep his hands to himself, to keep his thoughts on the job and not constantly on her. When she had brushed her finger up against his hand earlier, her lips uttering a soft plea for him to be careful whilst he was gone, it had taken all of his strength to behave like a gentleman. 

Entering the research office, he cleared his throat and adjusted his tie, striding past the girl on the reception desk with a polite nod as he made his way towards Larson’s desk. If anyone ought to know where the file was, it would be him. Andrew was indeed at his desk despite the later hour, his head bent over a thick stack of parchment, his fingers pushed into the soft wave of his blonde hair as he supported himself on the desk.

“Good evening, Andrew,” he said, coming to a stop beside him. “That’s quite the stack of bedtime reading you have there.”

Andrew looked up, blinking slowly as he separated his thoughts from his reading material, his lips curving into a smile. “Good evening, Lee. How are you?”

Andrew turned in his chair, pushing the parchment away from him to give Leander his full attention. His facial features had clung to the softness he’d had as a boy, the gentleness still there in his brown eyes, combined with a bright intelligence that Leander had always appreciated. He had known Andrew for a long time and took pleasure in working with him here at the Ministry. He felt privileged to call him a friend.

“I’m well, thank you,” Leander said with a nod. “I was hoping you would still be here. I’m looking for the file on the underground duelling pit in London. I wanted to read up a bit before going down there to have a scout around.”

Andrew’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re going down there? Has there been a new development on the Rookwood case?”

Leander gave a rueful twist of his lips. “You could say that, yes, although I am not at liberty to say much yet. You wouldn’t happen to know where it is, would you?”

Andrew bit his lip and glanced towards his pile of files on his desk, reaching across to pull one out and hold it up. “Actually, I have it right here,” he said, giving Leander a hesitant look. “I er…I swiped it from your desk earlier today while you were out. I wanted to read up on it myself.”

“Oh? Any particular reason?” 

“Yes. Our old school buddy, Sebastian Sallow,” Andrew said with a sigh. He looked up at Leander, a worried gleam in his eyes. “Would you say that was a good reason?”

Leander frowned and reached for a nearby chair, dragging it closer so he could sit. “That depends. What makes you interested in Sallow all of a sudden?”

“He cornered me this morning in Diagon Alley,” Andrew said, rubbing his hand across his mouth, a slight blush staining his cheeks. Leander’s eyes bulged, his lips parting in surprise. “I won’t lie to you, Lee. I wondered what the bloody hell he was going to do. He had his wand out, and I was never all that great at the hand to hand spell casting. That was always your thing, and Sallow is like a coiled serpent with a wand in his hand.”

“What did he want?”

Andrew winced, his eyes becoming grave. “He wants you, mate. He was demanding to know where he could find you. He said he had information that might prove useful to you. I didn’t tell him anything, only that I would pass on the message.”

Leander swore under his breath and put his hands to his face, closing his eyes as old insecurities began to bubble up inside of him. He was twelve years old again, and Sallow was casting Glacius under his feet to make him slip on the stairs, his twin giggling behind him as she clung on to Gaunt’s arm. 

It had always been silly pranks, and Leander had gotten his own back a few times with some help from Garreth, but Sebastian always liked to have the upper hand. He always had to be smarter, faster, his cocky smirk plastered over his handsome face. And now he was looking for him. It could only be about one thing. It had to be something to do with MC. Leander blew air through his lips and gripped his thighs, shaking his head. He wasn’t a scrawny twelve year old anymore. He was a graduated Auror, and he could hold his own. 

“What else did he say?” Leander asked, licking his lips.

“He said you might catch him in the Black Rose,” Andrew said, frowning slightly. “That is a nefarious pub, make no mistake. I wouldn’t go in there unprepared, Lee.”

Leander nodded and pinched his lips thoughtfully. “He was spotted there recently by another Auror, so it’s no surprise to hear that’s where to find him. Leave it with me, Andrew. I’ll see if I can’t track him down and find out what he wants.”

“Just be careful, alright?” Andrew said, his expression grim. “It can’t be anything good.”

Leander nodded, a tight-lipped smile on his lips as he moved to stand. He touched a hand to Andrew’s shoulder as he said goodbye, leaving the office with the file in hand, fairly certain that he knew exactly what Sebastian wanted, but he wasn’t about to give it to him.

For all Sebastian knew, she was tucked away inside Azkaban, far out of his reach. That’s the way it needed to stay until she was strong enough to step out into the world again and take on the likes of the Ashwinders. If Sebastian was hoping to get information out of him in order to aid a prison break, then he was very much mistaken. 

….*....

Leander met Harrington in Monument Street, London, the area reasonably quiet after the setting of the sun. The gas lamps had been lit, casting an eerie glow through the beginnings of a lingering mist that left a damp feeling on one’s clothing. The distant sound of carriages on the main road heading towards London Bridge could be heard as he walked alongside Harrington, past the colossal tower of a monument dedicated to all that was lost in the Great Fire of London in the 1600s, giving the road its name. 

“The file said the entrance to the duelling pit was down in the underground tunnel just along from the platform,” Leander said, pulling his collar up a little higher against the chill on the back of his neck. Autumn was beginning to sink its teeth into the weather. “Hopefully the station will be quiet at this time of the evening.”

“Magical folk have been vanishing into the underbelly of London long before the Muggles started sending their fancy new trains down there,” Harrington said. “London has many secrets, and some of the chambers underneath her are ancient. We won’t have any trouble accessing the tunnels. It will be further along that we will have to be more careful. My snitch said there are enchantments in place to avoid the duelling pits being discovered.”

“Nothing a cheeky Revelio won’t show us, I’m sure,” Leander said with a small smile.

They turned into King William Street and headed for the entrance to the Metropolitan Underground railway station of the same name, slipping through the doors in a swirl of mist and began to descend the spiralling iron stairwell into the depths.

“How is our new house guest faring?” Harrington asked as they reached the bottom, the air musty and damp, the only light coming from flickering lamps spaced out along the tiny platform.

“She is looking a lot better after a bath and something to eat, and the Healer said she was physically well despite everything. She has a box full of potions and elixirs to take to build her back to strength,” Leander said, scanning the station’s platform to find it empty. A crease appeared between his brows as he thought of MC. “I’m not so sure about her mental state. That might take a bit more work.”

“All we need her to do is give us enough to bring Rookwood to his knees,” Harrington said, his face grim. “We need to lure the spider out of his cave, and then we can shred his little web of criminals. That’s the main goal here.”

Leander bit his lip against the thoughts sliding across his mind. Harrington wasn’t wrong. That was the goal, but MC deserved more than that. At least, he thought so.

They jumped down off the platform onto the tracks below, the circular maw of the tunnel's mouth gaping before them. A stale breeze was coming from it, the tracks disappearing off into the blackness as though leading them down into the hells. Harrington slipped out his wand and stepped into the tunnel, his Lumos spell guiding their way until they came to the hidden door in the brick wall, marked by runes.

“Be on your guard, Prewett,” Harrington muttered. “We could end up running into anyone down here.”

An iron ladder led them down into a tunnel that had a swift running stream bubbling along the bottom of it, a stone pathway following the gushing water into further darkness. They walked for some time, listening for the sound of boot steps, Harrington casting Revelio at intervals until they came across a charmed barrier invisible to the naked eye. Leander tugged at his collar, feeling the oppressive weight of an entire city above his head as Harrington cleared the barrier, and they continued on.

Eventually, they began to hear the distorted echo of raised voices coming along the tunnel, the anticipation building in Leander’s chest as they drew nearer. Keeping to the shadows, they moved towards the light, the flicker and flash of spells reflecting off the walls in shades of red and white. 

Leander wasn't sure what he had been expecting of the pit, the name itself bringing forth images of dark, filthy holes with those duelling battling it out amongst a rabble of a crowd. The crowd part was mostly true. However, they were spaced around an arena that made Leander think of Roman gladiator fighting rings. The staggered levels of the spectators gave them an excellent view into an oval shaped arena with a stone floor covered in wood shavings. 

The chamber itself was not dark, nor filthy, the curved arches in the ceiling giving it a classical building feel, the stone work almost attractive, and around the walls were fire sconces that lit up the space with a golden glow. As for the gathered crowd, there was a mixed bunch of witches and wizards, from the poor to the rich. A careful glance around the space revealed that these duels attracted a variety of people, and a lot of them, too. 

The place was heaving, the air thick with excitement and the smokey scent of spell casting, the chill of the tunnels exchanged for the warmth of many bodies in close proximity. 

“Merlin’s beard, look at this lot,” Harrington said, his eyes casting an experienced eye over the crowd. His gaze narrowed as he looked in the direction of what could only be described as a spectators box. “Well, well, who do we have here?” 

There in the box sat Marvolo Gaunt, Amos Carrow, Luella Rookwood, and what looked suspiciously like one of the Minister of Magic’s official aides. No wonder these pits were allowed to continue if they had high up Ministry workers in their audience. 

“No sign of Rookwood,” Leander muttered near Harrington’s ear. “What about Sallow? I can't see him either.” 

“Try looking lower down in the gutter where he belongs,” Harrington sneered.

Leander looked downwards into the fighting arena itself, and his eyes widened. There he was. Sebastian Sallow. The sleeves were rolled up on his black shirt, the collar open, his freckled skin glistening with sweat, and his wild mop of hair damp at his temples. Flushed and breathing hard, he was duelling against a bare chested man with a skinhead, his face set with intense concentration. 

Andrew had compared him to a coiled serpent when he held a wand, and Leander could see that Sebastian still held a masterful prowess when it came to fighting. He moved with lithe skill, the barest flick of his wrist wielding quick spell work that his opponent could barely keep up with. He was no longer a scrawny teenager, his body more thickset, the muscle in his forearm defined. He looked strong, his neck solid and his chest broad, and yet he moved with the sharpness and cunning of a fox. 

The bald man was flagging, and Sebastian showed no mercy as he backed him up against the wooden railing at the edge of the fight floor, the crowd leaning forward to jeer and shout. Sebastian wielded with a flourish, the Diffindo cutting through the other man's flesh with horrifying precision, the scarlet of his blood seeping from his wounds at a frightening pace. The crowd gasped and then cheered as he collapsed to the floor, a duelling referee stepping into the oval to lift Sebastian’s arm into the air as the victor. 

“Savages, the lot of them,” Harrington hissed, his gaze narrowed in disgust. “It's a shame we don't have any backup. We could raid this circus and nab ourselves a pretty collection of scumbags here.” 

Looking at the way the crowd was baying for blood, the punters getting their bet winnings as Carrow and Gaunt looked on with smug looks on their cold faces, Leander felt his stomach twist. The thought of bringing MC here made him feel nauseated, the danger and savageness making him think that this was not the best way forward. He wished he could keep her inside the safe house forever, no matter how unrealistic that sounded. 

“Come on, I've seen enough,” Harrington said, nudging Leander’s arm. “Let's get out of here before we are spotted.” 

Leander hesitated, watching as Luella Rookwood smiled down at Sebastian, clapping her hands. The way she looked at Sallow certainly gave some credence to McKinnon’s suggestion that there was something between the two. Clenching his hands into fists, Leander dragged his eyes away and began to make his way back through the crowd, heading for the tunnel they entered through. 

A shout went up to his left, and then a bloom of purple sparks erupted into the air above their heads. There was a millisecond of utter silence before utter chaos erupted in the chamber. The crowd surged as people made a run for the tunnels, some falling and becoming trampled underfoot, the snap and whirl of Apparition coming from all sides as those who were able to make a quick exit. 

Leander had his wand in hand, stumbling and shoving with the tide of people as he tried to work out what was happening. Harrington was lost in the chaos, and Leander swallowed down the flutter of panic that erupted in his chest, and he pulled on his Auror training. Maintaining a manner of calm, he fought his way through to the edge of the chamber, keeping a wary eye on everyone. 

A glance to the spectator box revealed it to be empty, Carrow and Gaunt making a swift exit. He spotted Luella hurrying down the steps towards the pit floor, her mouth shouting something that looked suspiciously like Sebastian’s name, but he couldn't be sure over the noise and chaos. He needed to find Harrington and get out of here. 

Pushing back through the crowd, he looked for signs of his partner, having to block spells that were being cast across the heads of people as scrapping began to break out. Leander fired off a few spells of his own, diving behind a stack of storage crates at the entrance of a rather large tunnel to avoid a blasting curse. 

As the crowd thinned, Leander moved back towards the chamber, scanning the space for Harrington. The scrape of boots on stone behind him made him spin about, his wand held out ready, his heart leaping madly as his gaze met with a pair of blazing, brown eyes. 

Sebastian stood a fair few paces before him, his wand held up towards Leander, a gleam in his gaze that could almost be described as feral satisfaction. Sebastian took a slow step to the right, and Leander counter stepped, keeping his wand arm aimed, steady, and true. 

Despite the heightened danger of the situation, Leander felt as though they could be sixteen again, preparing to face off in a round of Crossed Wands. Time slipped into insignificance as he stared Sebastian down. Sixteen or twenty-one, it would appear they were fated to always be rivals. 

“I should have known to find you here, Sallow,” he said, his voice surprisingly steady despite the mad rush of his pulse. “It's all a little predictable, though, isn't it? Another unsanctioned duelling club. I thought you might have outgrown all that by now.” 

Sebastian smirked, his feet creeping closer. Leander maintained a decent distance, his eyes quick and wary as they manoeuvred in the entrance of the tunnel. 

“You're not so unpredictable yourself, Prewett. Here you are, coming to wreck all the fun with rules and self-righteousness,” Sebastian said, shaking his head slowly. “I guess some things just don't change.” 

A flick of his wrist and a quick cast hit the stone in front of Leander’s boot. The slightest flinch flickered across his face, but he didn't move. Sebastian’s eyebrows went up a notch. 

“How about it, Prewett? Do you fancy a round for old times' sake?” 

“It will only end with your wrists in chains and a cell, Sallow,” Leander said, his face hardening. “I hear Azkaban is rather cruel this time of year. I guess you will fit right in.” 

Sebastian’s eyes narrowed, and his mouth tightened. “You would know,” he hissed, striking hard and fast. 

Leander threw up a Protego shield and cast back, both of them assuming duelling stances and falling into a furious back and forth of spells. Sebastian was fierce despite having only just fought in the ring, but Leander was no longer a schoolboy either, his body fit and strong from gruelling training and hours of practice. He gave it everything and even began to push Sebastian further back into the tunnel, shadows darkening their movements and making the spells light up their faces with an eerie glow. 

Sebastian’s comment toyed at the back of Leander’s thoughts as they fired spells into the dark. What did he mean? Blocking another swift curse, he used one of Sebastian’s old tricks against him and cast Glacius across the floor. Sebastian’s boots slid on the ice, and he swore viciously as he slammed into the tunnel wall, his wand clattering to the ground. 

Leander was on him instantly, grabbing the front of his shirt, breathing hard as he shoved him against the wall. “I hear you've been looking for me, Sallow. What could you possibly have to say that I would find interesting?” 

Sebastian growled and tried to shove back, kicking out with his legs in frustration. They struggled, Sebastian swinging a fist towards his face and catching him hard above his eye. Leander grunted at the impact, blinking in shock as his mind spun, but he shook it off and managed to grab Sebastian's wrist and slam him back against the wall. He pinned his arm up to block any more swings, his other hand fisting into his shirt. 

As Sebastian’s hand splayed open at the impact against the brick, Leander caught sight of a long, thin red scar slashed across his palm, a complete match to the one MC had across hers. Leander stared at it, his cheeks draining of colour as he remembered the blood pact between her and Sallow. 

Sebastian’s head twisted, looking to see what Leander was staring at, his gaze narrowing as he studied Leander's face carefully.

“What's got you all spooked?” He asked and wiggled the fingers on his left hand, his breath panting through his lips. “It's only a scar.”

Leander met his eyes, his grip tightening on the infuriating man against the wall. “I know exactly what it is,” he hissed. 

Sebastian’s smugness faltered fleetingly, his throat working as he swallowed. A cold, determined look entered his gaze, and his voice came through gritted teeth. 

“Where is she, Prewett?” 

Leander stilled, his eyes locked in a battle of wills with his old rival, a dull throb beginning around his eye where Sebastian had punched him. “Who?” 

“Don't fuck with me,” Sebastian said, trying to jerk his arms free, but Leander pushed harder against him. “You know who I'm talking about. Where is she?” 

The first cold trickle of fear slid down Leander’s spine at the demand, the suggestion that Sebastian knew she had been released. Leander stuck to the lie. “She is in Azkaban. You know that.” 

Sebastian huffed a cold, humourless laugh. “You and I both know that's not true, Prewett. Naughty boy, you shouldn't tell lies. MC is not in her cell, and I want to know where she is. You can't keep her from me, not for long.”

Leander wanted to rip the smugness from Sebastian’s face, his own fear and bitterness making his blood run cold. How could Sebastian know that MC wasn't in her cell? How was that even possible? His eyes flicked up towards the scar on Sebastian’s palm as he wondered if somehow the pact could tell him. But then, that would mean he could locate her if she moved. So, no, that wasn't it. His mind raced, the obvious possibility being one he didn't want to admit, the very idea threatening the honour of the British Auror Office. 

Sebastian’s grin was slow and knowing. “You thought you were being so clever, didn't you? You thought you could sneak her out, and nobody would know. What's the plan, Prewett? Are you hoping to keep her all for yourself?” 

Leander felt his cheeks burn with a flush, and he could no longer bear the close proximity of him. He let Sebastian go and stepped back, swiping his hand across his face as he swallowed hard. 

“I'm not sure what it is you think you know, but you're wrong,” he said, shaking his head. “I'm not sneaking anyone anywhere.”

“Liar!” Sebastian hissed, his fists slamming against his thighs, his eyes wild. “You took her out of there, I know you did! Tell me where she is! You might as well, because if not today, I will find out, and I will come for her. She's mine, Prewett.” 

“You think your stupid blood pact makes her yours?” He scoffed, gesturing towards his left hand. “MC has her own mind, Sallow. She might not be able to betray you, but that doesn't mean you own her. She can choose to go and be with whoever she wants.” 

Sebastian’s face hardened. “Is that right?” 

“Yes it is,” he said, nodding. “MC will always have a choice.” 

“I suppose you have hopes that she will choose you,” Sebastian said, his eyes narrowing. “Her prince in shining armour who rescued her from the tower.” 

He knew. Sebastian knew MC was out. But how? 

Footsteps echoed in the tunnel, and they both turned to see Harrington approaching with his wand held up. He fixed his stern eyes on Sebastian, a slow smile appearing on his mouth. 

“Look who we have here,” he said. “Mr Sallow. Oh, I've been looking forward to seeing you again.” 

Sebastian threw another glance towards Leander, his eyes determined. “I won't give up.” 

“Don't you dare…” Harrington snarled, a spell bursting from his wand. But, he was too late. 

Sebastian made a dive for his wand and disappeared with a sharp crack, a swirl of black giving way to nothing as Harrington’s spell hit the wall with a flare of white light. 

Leander hung his head, his fingers gripping tightly to his wand as his mind raced, the adrenaline from the fight draining from him. Harrington came up beside him and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“Don't worry, lad,” he said. “We'll get him.”

Leander lifted his head to look at Harrington, his heart sinking at what he had to say. The thought of it filling him with such disappointment even though such a thing wasn't unheard of. 

“He knew, Harrington,” he said softly. “He knew MC was out of Azkaban and that I was the one who took her. I think…I think we might have a snitch on the team.” 

Harrington glanced towards where Sebastian had been standing only seconds ago, his mouth tightening with fury. “Shit,” he muttered, turning away. His voice lifted into a yell that echoed down the tunnel. “Shit!” 

This could compromise the whole operation. It could alert Rookwood to the idea that MC was siding with Aurors, and Leander felt the bitter sting of frustration in his bones. 

Harrington rubbed his chin in thought, his gaze catching on Leander’s face. “Bloody hell, that's going to give you a shiner come tomorrow,” he said, stepping closer. “You could do with seeing a Healer.”

Leander touched his fingers carefully to his eyebrow, the dull throb making him wince as he felt warm, sticky blood from the split skin there. “I will live,” he sighed. 

“Get yourself cleaned up, and then we need to check on McKinnon,” Harrington said. “If there is a snitch, then the safe house could be compromised.” 

Leander's stomach plummeted. He'd left MC there after promising he wouldn't let anything happen to her. “I'll go,” he said firmly. “I'll go right now.” 

“You need to see a Healer,” Harrington repeated, pointing at his head. 

“I'm fine,” Leander insisted. “Besides, MC is my responsibility. It should be me that goes.” 

Harrington gave him a long look and then sighed. “Your soft heart is going to get you in trouble one of these days, lad. Fine. Go to the safe house, but don't take any chances. Pack a bag and get MC out of there. Take her somewhere nobody else would even think of looking, and send me a coded owl once you're safe. Understand?” 

Leander nodded, his adrenaline beginning to kick in again. “What are you going to do?” 

Harrington gave him a meaningful look. “I'm going to turn Seeker and hunt out this bloody snitch.” 

Leander nodded, gripping tightly to his wand as he pictured the safe house in his mind, and Disapparated out of the dark tunnel. 

To be continued...

Huge thanks, as always, to @eternalremorse and @slytherin-paramour for their support with this fic 💜

Odessa McKinnon is an OC used with the kind permission of @ellivenollivander

Taglist: @evaslytherpuff @writing-intheundercroft @marketfreshfics @loving-him-was-red13

[trans-axolotl]

okay making a separate post bc i don't really want to get into any drama but like.

idk. intersex is such a broad umbrella term!! there's many ways we have overlap in our experiences. all of us are impacted by intersexism. all of us are impacted by compulsory dyadism.

it's true that there are many of us who don't fit into dyadic ideas about cisness or transness. like, for example idk if i would ever call myself ftm. like i was assigned nothing at birth for about a week and then eventually assigned female at birth and then i went through a testosterone based puberty naturally and then was put on estrogen and anti-androgens and started growing a chest and then went on testosterone got top surgery and then and then and then. anyway its like i am an intersex trans man but im not female to male, im not a dyadic trans man, i don't resonate with endosex transition timelines whatever whatever whatever. but my identity as trans is important to me, whatever.

i know many intersex people who don't see themselves as either cis or trans and just identify as intersex. i know many trans intersex people who it's complicated. i know many cis intersex people who identify as cis but it's complicated. so i don't feel like i would ever say like "oh all cis intersex people experience this thing" or "all cis intersex people have this social location etc etc etc" "All cis intersex people don't experience this kind of discrimination."

but at the same time i am SO tired of seeing ppl make umbrella statements that are like "this thing applies to all trans intersex people" "this thing applies to all cis intersex people" and especially when it comes to saying that all cis intersex people don't sometimes have cis privilege in certain contexts or that cis intersex people can't be transphobic.

bc idk after studying the past 30 years of american intersex activism for my thesis one of the things that CONSISTENTLY jumps out to me is the tension between queer intersex community, and medicalized intersex community that is almost exclusively cis. like so many of the dsd organizations, throughout their past 15 years, have EXPLICTLY made comments disparaging other intersex organizations, calling them too militant, saying that they're ruining the intersex community because they ally with trans people like. all this transphobic bullshit. the dsd organizations today still use very gendered language, let radfems do fucking whatever in their organizations, advocate for surgery and so much other bullshit. like that actively harms trans intersex people especially in a situation where we have such limited resources. there are SO few resources for our specific diagnoses. like if i need medical information for my specific variation, if i need information on like, medication routines, genetic testing, complications, comorbidities, etc etc etc, i HAVE to go to a transphobic organization to get those resources. because there is literally not another diagnosis specific organization that exists! it's the only one! and it means that there are so many more barriers to me accessing the resources, community, and care that i need. because of transphobic intersex people. like. thats an example of how some cis intersex people really cling to their cisness, try to weaponize their cis privilege, and actively cause intracommunity discrimination. you know?

like. idk. i just think that we need to be realistic! in terms of intersex intracommunity things, there absolutely is a lot of transphobia! not from everyone, not saying that every intersex person is either cis or trans, with the understanding that every cis intersex persons experience is still shaped by compulsory dyadism and that shapes how we're viewed as our "real" gender or ways that society thinks we "fail" at our gender but just.

im tired! im tired.

[raw-diggity-dog]

rd in rut and he's usually so laid back and friendly and sweet and a bit shy and awkward but when rut hits him he's almost a different person

the rest of the server knows when its coming because he starts getting snappy and short tempered over the littlest things, possessive and even a bit mean. theres a visible tension bubbling under his increasingly thin facade of affablity, and at nights he starts prowling the perimiter of his base. hes looking for a mate, trying to pick up the scent of someone in heat, but there's no others like him on the server and even as he scents the air and howls he knows there'll be no answer.

some ruts he stays in his base and his friends help him out as best as they can. in the days at it's peak he wakes up hazy and desperate, mounting and fucking anything halfway decent he can get his claws on - pillows, bundled blankets, a used labcoat doc handed to him the other day with eyebrows pointedly raised. someone, usually doc or cleo, will bring him food and water (he always forgets to store those...some alpha he is) and if hes not too far gone he'll let one of them hold him, stroking him and squeezing his knot until he comes and comes and comes with a choked-back snarl and watering eyes. theyre not like him, but they help him as best they can, and he's grateful for their patience and their love.

but some ruts hit him too hard and too fast, and he can feel it spreading through his brain like ink in water, until all he is is a beast who cannot be reasoned with, and those are the ruts he spends off the server.

the hermits are like any other player; they can jump between open worlds easily as long as they know where it is. when the ruts are especially bad, he'll widen his hunt from just his territory to across as many servers as it takes to find a receptive mate. its exhausting but his body urges him onwards, flickering in and out of world after world, scenting the air, eyes yellow and frenzied. when he catches the scent of a heat, the hunt begins in earnest, and hes following it through snowy taiga, through swamps and marshes, tracking the owner over sand dunes and mountains until he finds them curled in a nest with their human thoughts as slow and honey-thick as his own. instinct overtakes them both and without even learning their name he'll lick his eager new mate open and fuck them over and over, knot them full again and again until they're babbling and clawing at his back. the days pass in a haze of sensations, sleeping and waking and pounding his mate into a drooling mess and sleeping again.

by the time the rut calms, theyre both exhausted and filthy, and as his clarity returns he'll apologise and introduce himself. it gets a bit awkward once theyre both back to being more or less themselves again, and ren isn't the smoothest guy at the best of times. they almost never stay in touch afterwards and he tells himself that's a good thing.

back on his home server he washes away the past few days dirt, digs around in his shulkers for cleanish clothes, makes himself a cup of tea and a sandwich. the other hermits will send 'welcome back's and tactfully avoid asking where he was. doc might drop by, or cleo, and make some dirty jokes for ren to get mock indignant over. he'll return to the habits and patterns of being a civilised member of a server. he'll go back to being sweet and approachable ren. he'll pack his memories of what he did during rut neatly away in the back of his mind and pretend that part of him doesnt exist. he's just the same awkward, silly puppy everyone knows and loves.

[stateofdreaming14]

I lost the post but I saw someone say that Uraraka not ending up with izuku made a majority of her arc somewhat useless and I pretty much disagree bc imo the ending is the answer that completes her arc

The thing is that people didn't pay attention to her full arc because they assumed they already knew where it was leading. That she (like any main girl in a shonin story) would become strong through her admiration of the MC and they would end up together in the end. But, I think most people (even myself at some points) forget the greater picture of mha. Bc mha is a show that sets up many shonin tropes to purposely subvert them. (Like bakugou being the typical MC type but being the rival instead. Or the typical 'rival turns on mc' arc except he doesn't). And that more than anything makes me think that, contrary to what some may believe, uraraka's arc was planned to be this way from the beginning and the general audience just hadn't realized it.

Now let's talk about her arc bc it is interesting to me especially in the way it feeds into a greater story among all of the characters in the show. Of course, the ways she fits into the shonin love interest character arc is obvious. She starts of stronger than izuku power wise but it is clear that he has some deeper well of motivation/determination helping him defeat the odds that she can learn from. Watching izuku defeats the odds inspires her in a way that drives her to become stronger and it causes her affection for him to grow. Everyone seems to think she has a crush on him and the thought of it makes her blush. But, the subversion comes in the form of her main villain, toga.

You see, the main purpose of a villain is to drive the conflict with their heroes. They do this by opposing/exposing some fundamental belief/flaw of the hero. This creates narrative tension and drives the direction of the conflict. Usually the hero overcoming the villain (and how they overcome them) shows a deeper meaning to the arc of the story. Of course, toga is a character who literally tries to become people claiming she has a crush on them. Toga tries to define the battle as between two girls who have a crush on the same guy, but it's obvious that toga doesn't really love izuku at all. She doesn't seem to understand love at all. She sees love and the desire to become someone as one and the same with no differences. She can't understand the difference between admiration/hero worship and romantic love. This the main conflict becomes one of defining love and admiration. I would say that, in typical mha fashion, there isn't a black and white answer to the question either.

Uraraka's answer to toga isn't to defeat her (thus narratively declaring her the moral victor as well) it's to say that toga looks like she needed saving. She confirms that she primarily admires izuku by choosing the most izuku-esque answer there is. Saving those that need saving, even the villains (and playing into the greater lesson of the meaning of heroes and villains in the process). Then toga does the sad mans parade which adds another layer to the conflict. Because it shows her finally displaying a truer (if platonic) love, but this love coexists with the admiration/desire to become. Thus it confirms that the two emotions could exist together. They could have stopped it there and still left open the possible potential for izuocha, but instead this segues into the final layer (which I adore). It is a confirmation that there is admiration between toga and uraraka. And uraraka acknowledges that there is potential for true love there as well if only they were given time to let it grow.

The way that this arc defines admiration and love in a way that plays into the greater story of the meaning of heroes and villains in their society can have its own essays, but as a bkdk shipper myself I think the way it affects their story is the most interesting. Bc the story draws clear parallels between uraraka/toga and bkdk. Mainly in the way each (katsuki and toga) die for their sweeter half while holding items that remind them of the other. But also in uraraka's lament that perhaps if she had known toga as children perhaps things could have ended differently. This parallels how bkdk as childhood friends DID get a better ending. They admired each other, and, because they were given the time and opportunities, that admiration was able to become a love that made them both stronger.

Something something ochotoga (idk their ship name sorry) is the tragic Yuri mirror to bkdk's happy yaoi love story. Their what could have been is bkdk's reality and personally I would love some fics exploring uraraka's mixed feelings about this (especially when bkdk get together bc of course she wants her bestie to be happy but also tragic gay yearning can't be stopped).