#urge to cry in a slightest inconvenience

[sparklerzii]

"periods aren't that bad!!!" exactly!!! frfr

[bachissidehoe]

A love triangle with Nagi & Reo

Nagi just never told you how he felt, feelings would be a hassle. Especially when he considers the thought that you may not return them, and then he has to deal with the hassle of losing you in his life. He’s known you since middle school, where you were the reason he studied hard enough to make it into this school. You let him live his lazy life, give him company when he wants it and leave him alone when he would rather keep to himself. He can’t imagine a better life than one with you.

Reo met Nagi and felt an instant connection. Nagi is not only exactly what he’s been looking for as a soccer player to take their high school team to the top, he’s also everything Reo wants in a partner. Someone who can match him in talent, make him think differently about himself and the world, and someone to fight for. All Reo has ever wanted is to be with someone who doesn’t care about his money, his grades- someone who isn’t trying to use him for personal gain. And Nagi is just perfect, he doesn’t need Reo at all, and Reo can’t imagine anything better than that.

You really didn’t want to fall for Reo, he’s every girl’s dream boy. Hot, smart, athletic, and kind (and rich), he checks every box. But literally everyone wants him, he can get anyone he wants, it was so inconvenient when you found yourself falling for him right along with everyone else. But how could you not? When he takes you by the hand to let you sit front and center at his practices and games, when he thanks you for taking such good care of his “treasure” (your best friend Nagi), when he flashes you a gorgeous smile as his eyes sparkle. You feel special every time he talks to you, looks at you, gives you even the slightest bit of attention. You can’t imagine anything better than someone who makes you feel loved like Reo does.

*****

“I have to tell you-”

“I have to tell you something too.” Reo interrupts you, his expression full of urgency yet slightly relieved, assuming he knows exactly what you’re about to tell him.

Truthfully, you decided it’s finally time to confess to him, it’s been long enough. He should at least know, even if he does reject you.

“Okay, you go.” You smile, urging him to go first. Your heart races, hoping he’ll return your feelings before you even have to deal with the embarrassment of confessing.

“I- I really like Nagi.” Reo says confidently. He’s nervous, but he stands tall. He shouldn’t feel so nervous about feelings like this, he always gets what he wants, after all.

“I- you-” You stutter, the thoughts flooding your brain faster than you can think of a proper response. It makes so much sense, Reo’s “treasure”, the way he’s expressed wanting to take care of Nagi, how he’s started showing up to drive him to school, how he always tries to get alone time with him. It’s so obvious, and you’ve been hogging him away from Nagi, selfishly acting on your feelings instead of trying to help Nagi explore his own.

“Oh, you’re surprised? I thought I was being too obvious.” Reo chuckles.

“No! It makes sense! I just- um-” You pause, trying to find a way to get through the conversation without crying.

“She wanted to tell you that she likes you.”

A familiar voice interrupts the conversation, where you turn to see your snowy-haired best friend poking his head into the empty classroom. Clearly, he was looking for the two of you, showing up at perhaps the worst time.

“Nagi! No- I don’t- um, Reo was just saying-” You try to save it, try to make this less embarrassing, but all you can do is fight back tears.

“Yeah, he was saying he likes me. I know he does.” Nagi pulls his bag straps tight against his shoulders, standing up tall for once. It’s easy to forget how damn tall he is when he’s always slouching. “But I know you like him, and I like you, and that’s all a hassle, so I left it alone.” He sighs.

“Wait-” Reo starts, processing the information. “You like her, she likes me, and I like you? Oh boy.” He scratches behind his head. “Is that what you were going to tell me, y/n?”

You only nod, still trying to process that Nagi basically confessed to you just now. How could you not have seen it?

You look at Nagi, who looks at Reo, who looks at you. Suddenly, Nagi looks different to you, he’s honestly beautiful. You can’t imagine your life without him, and watching him discover a recent passion has been an amazing journey. Nagi looks at Reo, seeing someone who’s helped him grow into a new person, a person he’s starting to like much more than his old self. A life with Reo in it sounds amazing. And Reo looks at you, seeing a beautiful girl who has supported him every day, giggling and laughing with him and encouraging him to chase his dreams. You haven’t used him for a single thing, thinking only of his happiness.

The three of you stand in a triangle as you look between each other. And you can’t help but laugh.

“Yeah.” You smile. “I like you too Nagi. And I do like you, Reo.” You shrug.

“I do like you y/n. And of course, Nagi.” Reo smiles.

“I like you y/n. And I think I do like you too, Reo.” Nagi cracks a light smile.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood. (Part 14)

“N”

“Y-yeah?”

Uzi pulled him into her bedroom, looking so serious he was immediately nervous. Had he been too forward? Holding her like that had been rather obvious…

“What are we going to do!” She yelped throwing up her hands in indignation, sounding so angry, so angry in fact that her tail emerged, hissing.

“Tera. She… She's being! Grah!” Uzi couldn't even form words. Her fists were balled so tightly N could hear the tubing groan under the pressure she was putting them under, her eyelights were squeezed shut and she bared her fangs.

“Uzi…” He stepped forward, arms outstretched towards her.

She whipped around and glared at him with such an intensity that he stopped in his tracks, one of her eye's were crossed out in an “X”. And a low growl escaping her lips.

“Zi…” He repeated, still not going much closer to her. The X fissled out and the growling faded. She looked pained, like it was taking everything out of her to feel this way.

Then she turned away, tail falling silent as she looked down at the floor. N came slightly closer, stepping up behind her.

Only to realize she was trembling.

“What's wrong with this colony…?” She mumbled, sounding so dissapointed, so cold that he immediately felt the urge to apologize, even when he hadn't done anything wrong.

“They… I-” Words died in his throat, he didn't know how to help in this situation. He doubted that there were any words that could.

“They didn't even give her a chance! So what if she overheats? She's a baby! They can't just… just give up at the slightest inconvenience!”

“Uzi.” At his words she turned back at him, tears stained on her digital visor even though she seemed embarrassed of them. As she turned back to staring into the floor.

“What hope did I ever have…? If they do this to a baby?” Her voice cracked, and N caught her on the way down as her legs gave out, holding her incredibly gently. She was fighting sobs, it seemed that Uzi was the type to get so angry she began to cry.

“I'm sorry.” Is all he said, helping her stand back up on her own two feet. Before stepping back, he wasn't sure how thrilled she would be at physical contact while this… riled up and upset.

“You can't apologize for them N…” She said slowly, she was holding herself in her arms and her own tail wrapped around her, tightly, she sighed and turned back, trying to wipe the remnants of her tears away despite the fact they were inside her visor.

“I can't let her grow up without anybody… I just can't, She- I wouldn't ever be able to forgive myself.” She made her way to he desk chair and sat, her hands clasped together almost in prayer, if she'd been even the tiniest bit religious that is.

“Uzi you're 18. You live with your dad. You can't just-” He replied, putting his hand on the chair and looking down at her, he wasn't yelling, but somehow she still flinched away from him.

“I know! I know!”

“I just dont know… what else I can do.” She slumped, defeated, her fingers pinching the bridge of her nose (if she had one) her eyelights closed and her other hand gripping her chair.

There was a few moments of uncomfortable silence, N thought to himself the best course of action, what else could he do?

“I… can adopt her?” He said, uncertain in every way. He could, he was a little older, and he still wasn't sure how great of a father he would be. But, with the lack of other options…

“Wh-what?” Uzi sounded bewildered, looking up at him like he'd just grown a second head, which was fair, he somewhat felt like he had himself.

“I just talked to your dad today, I'll be getting an apartment in the bunker soon. I'd kinda wanted to surprise you with it but…” He smiled warily, trying to convince himself at this point along with her, but he was in the best position out of either of them now… right?

“I couldn't ask you to do that. You'd… that's a lot of responsibility.” She was looking at him now, and it felt very weird have such an adult conversation. He felt older, she looked older.

“I want to.” He began, sounding a little bit more confident about it; before deciding to say something that made it immediately dissolve “Tera is special to me. You are special to me, A-and I don't want either of you to feel like you're nothing.”

He paused, both because he didn't want to give anything away and because he wanted to give her comfort, it was getting frustrating, before he didn't need to think about it, he could just do, no overthinking required.

“You aren't nothing Zi…”

At this she looked away flustered, not expecting how soft his voice went, but that was like N wasn't it? Always thinking about her, about the wellbeing of other people.

“Are you sure?” She asked after a moment, trying to find the answer somewhere inside his visor, his confidence rose again.

“Yes. I'm sure, I'm definitely sure.”

“What about V? And… whatever the fuck is going on with Doll?” She asked, beginning to worry herself over the future, now with the prospect of an infant getting caught in the crossfire.

“Then… I'm the best suited to protect her right? I'm a walking, talking weapon. If Doll comes then I'll make sure she never even thinks about laying a hand on her.” He began, looking at his hands.

“You aren't a weapon N.” She immediately tried to argue, but he didn't let her, not this time.

“I am. But thats okay… I would rather be this way then a normal drone.” He admitted, remembering his powerlessness in the manor, how little control he had. “I can protect the… the people I care about this way.”

He didn't finish that the way he wanted to, with the people I love. But she didn't need to know that yet…

She went silent, looking down in thought, before suddenly she was gripping him, holding around his waist and squeezing with all her strength. It wasn't a small amount either, it had momentarily taken his breath away.

“You… uh. You have me too. To help you.” She stammered out, being unfamiliar with trying to comfort him. But he appreciated it nonetheless, wrapping his arms around her.

“I… I know.” He mumbled, nuzzling into her beanie slightly, he couldn't help it, and he didn't want to let go.

But it didn't seem like she did either, and the hug lasted into several minutes of them enjoying the others touch. He felt the butterflies in his core flutter uncontrollably, hers was too, uncertain smiles neither could see on both of their faces.

Then they pulled apart, neither looking at each other for a moment as they both willed themselves to calm down.

“N are you sure about this? I mean… you're going to be a dad!”

“Yeah…”

That did feel a little weird to think about, N being a dad, being responsible for a little fragile life.

“But… you'll be with me. Right?”

She blushed, violet taking over her face. This one he actually caught, and found the same gold taking over his.

“Yeah.”

---

It took Khan a couple of days to clean out his apartment (apartments, V got one right next door.) But N was vibrating in excitement, an apartment all to himself! That was… something he'd never had before.

Of course it was standard, a tan couch in the living room, a kitchen that looked identical to the one in the Doorman residence, and two bedrooms. Otherwise it was a completly blank slate. Until he filled it with more decorations. And it's other occupant…

That was still weird to think about. Even after the couple of days he'd had to think about it. He was about to become a dad.

He was excited and equally nervous. The sweat appearing on his visor whenever he thought about it too much. But he wasn't going at it alone, Uzi would be there, hopefully he'd learn quickly…

Speaking of, she was at the nursery, picking up the paperwork for him to fill out whitch was contributing to his nerves quite heavily. It would be official soon…

Until then though, he was exploring his apartment, glancing at the TV before heading into the master bedroom, where there was a dresser, and a closet in the corner. Maybe he could put a desk in here? Uzi would need somewhere to work.

That thought made him stop. Uzi had offered to help, not move in with him. They hadn't even discussed that actually, and the more he thought about it, why would she?

They weren't together, he hadn't told her anything about his feelings, still wanting to wait until they figured everything out. But with the introduction of Tera, things were now more complicated.

Maybe…. Maybe he should say something? It was likely she already suspected something at this point, he was incredibly awful about hiding his feelings and that was something he knew. Even if he had been doing a better job than usual.

And if she did suspect something, she didn't seem to be put off by it. She hadn't mentioned anything either, but she had been becoming more flustered recently, that could have easily been just because he'd been… subconsciously complimenting her, either through his words or touches; she'd always been shy about that.

Or she could feel somewhat of the same way about him, he hoped so. Being rejected sucked, but it would suck infinitely more if they didn't hang out anymore, which he was doubting more and more would ever end up happening. It would be awkward for awhile… but they could get through anything.

He… He was going to say something. Not today… he needed to think about it a little bit more, maybe test a little more to see if he could prove to himself she felt that way too. But he was going to say something.

“I got them!” He heard said crush walk into his apartment with a shout. Making his thoughts crash into each other. Right, adoption papers, him becoming a dad. Something entirely different to stress about.

Still he poked his head out of the bedroom. Smiling at her almost instinctually.

“G-great uh…” He trailed off, nerves overcoming him for a moment, he could no longer pretend this wasn't stressing him out greatly.

“I'll help you goober, come here.” She sat at the kitchen table, taking out yet another pen from one of her pockets and setting it next to the rather thick pamphlet of papers in front of her.

He gulped, but sat next to her all the same.

“It's not as overwhelming as it looks, it's just you signing your name like fifty times and some personal information.” She explained, and while he was skimming the first page, he found she was correct.

This document is for the purpose of record keeping. To insure no drone is left recordless or lost and provide insurance to guarantee satisfaction-

Legal jargon he didn't understand, but seemed to go on for several paragraphs, it was very official looking, and did nothing to calm his nerves. Something the drone next to him picked up on.

“Don't read too much of that, it's not a contract. All it's saying is that these will be put in the archives to be forgotten about.” She said, voice bored and a little monotone, but even so she smiled at him.

“Okay, uh, so what should I focus on?”

She flipped through the paperwork until she landed on a place he should sign, and pointed at it with the pen.

“Sign here.” She handed it to him after clicking it, and despite his trembling hand he managed.

Serial Designation N.

“You might need a last name.” She said after a moment, looking up at him.

“I don’t think I have one.” He admitted, he'd never really gone as anything else, and didn't quite know how to fill that part out.

“Elliot?” She suggested, but he almost immediately winced.

“I don't really want that as a last name…”

“Anything else?” She asked, and he thought for a moment before sighing, shaking his head.

“No…”

His signature then became;

S.D-N, Elliot

“Good enough, let's move on.”

They spent some time flipping through the papers, Uzi explaining the important bits to him if she deemed it important for him to know.

“Parent is required to send their child to school until the age of 21, or until child becomes independent.”

“Parent is required to install the following patches…”

“Parent is required to take thier child for routine hardware checks…”

“Alright, last one, it's where you fill out the parents personal information. Your contact information, your medical history, that kinda thing.” They finally reached the end, and N's processors was so full of information that he didn't think he could take anymore.

“Oh thank Robo-God…”

There were actually two sections to fill out, one for him, where he signed his name again and filled out the blanks with his system contact number, an email (Who the heck still uses e-mail?) And any medical history he deemed important. (Did being able to turn into a weird creepy snake crab count as a medical condition? If it did, he didn't add it.)

And the second section, for a second parent/caregiver in cases of emergencies, of which Uzi looked at for a moment, back up at him before she began to fill it out herself.

It made him stop and stare for a moment, almost in disbelief.

“I said I would help didn't I? Besides, it's just for the doctors in case they can't get ahold of you.” She explained, although she outright refused to look at him again, being focused on filling out her own information.

He slowly went back to doing the same. Trying hard to not read anymore into it. But seeing both their names down… it fueled the heavy weight in his core, that's for sure.

Next ->

[trappedinafantasy37]

🎻💤💛🧐😥 for Daedra pleaseee (Naadja passed her a note asking if she wants to come over yes[ ] or yes [ ])

Yippee! Daedra yapping time! Daedra hands the note back, she would love to come over!

🎻 VIOLIN — does your oc play any instruments? what is their skill level (beginner/intermediate/advanced/virtuoso/etc)?

Daedra does not play any instruments actually. If she really cared to try, she could probably learn how to play something. But she much prefers to listen rather than create.

💤 SLEEPING SIGN — is your oc a light sleeper or a heavy sleeper? how are their sleeping habits?

Daedra is a heavy ass sleeper! Girl could sleep through the apocalypse. She can also fall asleep just about anywhere and under any condition. She doesn't need a bed, she can fall asleep face down in the dirt if she's tired enough. Daedra also never trances. It's based off one of my headcanons that elven Durge's cannot trance based upon some context within the game. So, Daedra being unable to trance has nothing to do with the brain damage, cause she couldn't before the lobotomy.

However, she is prone to nightmares bestowed upon her by dear old daddy Bhaal. When those nightmares happen, she unintentionally harms herself in her sleep by scratching at her skin to the point of bleeding. They are incredibly distressing for her and she doesn't get good sleep on those nights.

💛 YELLOW HEART — how many languages does your oc speak? what language(s) are they learning, if any?

Daedra can speak drowic and common! Drowic was her first language and she didn't feel the need to learn common until she went to the surface after a little kerfuffle she caused in the Underdark that compelled her to leave. Once she has her little lobotomy though, she almost entirely speaks common cause her companions don't understand drowic. That is until Minthara joined the camp and started talking to her in their native tongue. After the lobotomy, code switching in that matter is extraordinary difficult for her, but she keeps up with it to talk to her friends. She finds it refreshing that she doesn't have to work her brain so hard when talking to Minthara. When the two are alone, their conversations are entirely in drowic and is one of the reasons they form a strong bond so quickly.

🧐 FACE WITH MONOCLE — is your oc more logical or emotional?

It generally depends on the situation. If it involves someone she cares about, she applies more emotion than logic to her reasoning. Her desire to resist her urges is solely in emotion. She would be devastated if she ever lost control and hurt the people she cared about.

But if it doesn't involve someone she cares about, it is stone cold logic. She needs a logical and purely mathematical reason to do anything for anyone that she does not care for.

😥 SAD BUT RELIEVED FACE — is your oc prone to getting stressed out, or is it easy for them to keep their cool?

Oh, my babygurl gets stressed out so easily. She is riddled to thr brim with self doubt and self loathing that she doesn't have a lot of confidence in her ability to really do anything. So when something big comes up, she freaks out and tends to run away. She is also a big fucking cry baby and cries over the slightest inconveniences.

[magic-hcs]

Can I have a lil scenario of all my favorite things combined? 👀

Charon + meeting soulmate + ANGST 😈

PS: I absolutely adore your blog, your energy and writing always make my day 🥰

of course you can my dear anon! I loved writing this and accidentally wrote more than I thought I would. I hope you like it!

And Oh god, when i tried to save it to edit it a bit more on a different device it got deleted and i was about to yeet my laptop into space, and rage quit for a while (since I'm still healing from that writing burnout) and cry, luckily search history didn't let me down and I took back everything I just wanted to do in anger and sadness. deadass I copy and pasted everything I edited on a doc before trying anything again. So truly I hope you all enjoy!

Charon: Underfell Papyrus

warnings: angst, no comfort, Charon is rude, instant regret, first words are written on the body, maybe more

Time to cast some magic and see what we'll get!✨

✨✨

Charon: Ever had the feelings of regret becoming so strong it makes you bend your back at the sudden weight that whacks you upside the head and rams into you like a train?

Today had been one hell of a rough day. Despite the urge to scream his frustration to the heavens, he pushes on. He had to go shopping for dinner tonight, Charon refuses to do takeout. Healthy food made by Charon is superior to the sort of grub those order places serve up any day of the week. So to the store Charon goes, feeling like even the slightest inconvenience would set him off. Right when Charon couldn't find a specific ingredient a human walks up to him. you opened your mouth but Charon was faster.

"GET LOST HUMAN" Charon barked in your face. Hoping that you would leave him alone after this. But the reaction that he received from you wasn't you scuttling away in fear, or a face frowned in anger. Instead, it was a face of expected shock and unexpected devastated sadness mixed with resignation. Charon noticed your eyes were close to tears as you avert your gaze. With a sniff you roll your shoulders and straighten your back, as if wanting to push through some unbearable hardship. "Alright," you mumble, sniffing one last time and turning to the aisle they both were next to. "I'll get these myself then..." Right as you reach out your arm to grab at the can standing way too high up for your reach, Charon sees it: There on the inside of your arm where the ink black words spelling out in Charon's font 'GET LOST HUMAN.' And a realization hits Charon immediately after. On his own body, the words you had just uttered to him start to pleasantly tingle. Those words had given hope to Charon to find his soulmate. It was supposed to be wonderful to you too...But it brought you only heartache for so long long. It was supposed to be an incredible unforgettable thing. Now it just makes Charon sick. And it feels as if a train rams into him and slams down upon his back. Charon almost stumbles.

He unwillingly watches you strain your arm trying to reach that stupid can standing so high upon the shelf, watches your face be furrowed at the brows, and your resilient eyes desperately keeping the frustrating tears at the bay, sees the way you clench your jaw, holding in so much, throwing up a wall of pretense nonchalance. Charon begs himself to avert his gaze, begs his body to tear itself from the ground and to turn and never come back, begs for a time machine and redo it all over, begs for something, anything at all.

…

Your frustrated huff and a whispered “Goddammit" unshackled him from the confines of his stupor, making him reach out a hand that halts before even getting far. Mouth open but no noise comes out.

What could be done or said to undo a wrong that had been hurting you every day, an ugly reminder of how you’d never get to have a beautifully romantic fated meeting like how it was supposed to be.

…

The answer is simple; he can’t.

With a small flick of his phalanges the can behind the one you were reaching for gets illuminated by magic, and softly pushes the can in front of it. Inching it slightly over the board, right at the exact moment your fingers reached just below it. You tilted it from its perch, grabbing it just before it could fall. Charon turned away, swallowing down the knot that had formed inside his nonexistent throat.

“My Behavior Was Uncalled For, I Apologize.”

You turned to the voice that spoke up, expecting to see the skeleton man standing next to you. Only to find your eyes meeting a receding back.

Every step was a stab to the soul, clenching his teeth tighter, one would worry they’d crack. Your soft sniffles, the resignation on your face, it burns inside his mind, forcing him to watch it again and again. You didn’t deserve this. You didn’t deserve what has been done to you. What he has done to you.

The deepest part of him, the kindest part of him that he’s been hiding for so long wants to turn around and run to you. It wants to hold you, beg for forgiveness and swear that’ll hell do good, that he won’t ever treat you like that again.

But that would be selfish.

Once outside, Charon leans against the nearest wall and a shuddering breath leaves him. Subtly gripping the fabric of his clothes right above where his aching soul is located. Who would have thought that the pain he experienced the moment he got his trademark scratch mark across his socket would ever be surpassed?

A humorless chuckle leaves Charon. He shakes his head, pushing air past his teeth, forcing himself to be grounded, to get it together. Ignoring the ache he takes a few steps before realizing a big fact.

He had left his basket behind…and there were no groceries at home…and going back there, chancing seeing you again was not something Charon was looking forward to.

…

A big sigh leaves him.

It looks like takeout would have to do today…ugh…

BONUS:

Lounging on the couch, staring at a true crime documentary on tv is Red, scratching a sharp phalange along his teeth. There’s a bored scowl on his face, the constant loud tick tocks of the clock hanging on the wall deepens the frown. A few seconds pass. Red ‘tsks’ and snatches the remote to turn up the volume once more. He throws the remote back on the couch, in reach, as if he knew he would use it again at any moment.

Red started to tap his phalange at the small gap between his golden tooth and the other normal ones. An unconscious snrrk fills the room as Red can already guess what Charon would say when he sees what his older brother is doing.

‘Brother, If You Continue That Horrid Habit Of Yours You’ll End Up With Two Golden Teeth Instead Of One.’

His imaginary brother’s nagging sounds as irritating as the real deal.

Another snort leaves Red. A few seconds pass and this time it’s a huff before red eyelights flit over to the clock.

Two hours and thirty minutes.

It’s taking way too long. Red shakes his head. Stomping the thoughts away. A few minutes later the door clicks open and Red refuses to admit that the phalange that he had been jagging between his teeth slipped from his mouth, and that his shoulders had sagged at the noise of the familiar steps of Charon’s boots.

“lemme guess, couldn’t decide which fuckin’ salad dressing to take this time?” Red snarked over his shoulder, when he got no reply his shoulders bobbed in silent chuckle. Thinking the silence was just Charon refusing to go along with Red’s bicker he continued on. “boss, i swear, they all taste the freakin’ same.”

Still no reply. Red’s grin wavered slightly. “bro?” The steps thud up the stairs and there’s an uncharacteristically quiet click of a door. The once disappeared scowl returns in the shape of a confused and slightly concerned frown.

…

“…what in the fuck?”

Now, there is an unspoken ground rule in this house. A boundary none of them have crossed before.

Never enter the other’s room without the other’s knowledge or permission

Red has been knocking on this door for the last six minutes or so, at first asking in the form of jabs like “are ya cryin’ like a babe in there?” It got no indignant shriek from the other side of the door. So it was time to change tactics.

“do i need ta dust a fucker?” No harrumph of “I Don’t Need You To Do My Dirty Work, Brother. I Am Not Weak.” Or something along the likes. Just absolute silence.

…okaayy…something’s up.

“should i whip some up..?” Red refused to admit that slight worried crack in his voice. There was shuffling in the room, however, not one reply was made. “…bro…?”

….

never enter eachother’s room without permission.

…

’fuck it.’

Red shortcuts inside Charon’s room. Ready to be shouted at. Prepared to dodge some objects being hurled at him. But nothing came. Just this deafening quiet. Red finds Charon siting on his bed, knees tucked to his chest, arms dropped next to his side like a ragdoll having lost its strings keeping its arms alive.

“bro?” There are no tears, no grinding of the teeth, no frown or any indication or trace of any emotion at all. The look in Charon’s sockets terrify Red. Mostly because there is no look. It’s empty, vacant of eyelights, devoid of life. And he’s staring straight through Red, as if he’s not even there.

A chill shoots through Red's spine, making him shiver as if something’s crawling along his back. Red rushes towards his brother. Grabbing him by the shoulders and giving him a shake. “bro?” He shakes some more. “bro, fuck off this ain’t fuckin’ funny.” The voice sounds nothing like Red. It’s desperate. A humorless chuckle that sounds more like a manic cackle filled with nerves fills the room. It sends Red’s soul racing, not realizing it was him making the sound. “charon-“

“…” Everything freezes. Red freezes. It was so quiet.

“what?” Its a gasp that leaves Red. The mumbles start up again. Charon’s head tilts slightly. Red just knows that his brother’s empty sockets are now looking at him. “…messed…ed..”

“what?” Its the only thing Red finds in his current vocabulary. He leans closer towards Charon. “…i messed up, red…”

It’s quiet for a long time. Red swallows. “…wh-what didya mes-mess up, bro?” Red finally asks, nervously stumbling over his words. He watched as Charon tilted his head slightly down towards his collar bone.

the place where the words proudly been tattooed on.

Red’s eyelights shrink. It couldn’t be…

“messed everything up…”

oh. no…

Red felt his non-existent stomach drop. And it kept dropping.

✨✨

✨✨

Thank you for participating in this spell, I hope it was to your satisfaction.

[seokgyuistforu]

intertwined | seokgyu

dokyeom loved mingyu so much that the sun and the moon disappeared from the sky most days, and all there was was him. it was dangerous from the start, and he knew that. don't fall in love with your best friend. don't spend every day with him. don't get so attached to him that there's not enough air in the world to fill your lungs when he's not around. these are all things he told himself over and over again until it was too late. until he did the worst thing he could have possibly done. he fell hopelessly in love with kim mingyu. 

mingyu took longer to fall, but it didn't mean he fell any less hard. his world view shifted the first time his lips met dokyeom's, and he's been in space ever since. he too knew that it was risky to fall in love with him. the heart wants what it wants. just be careful, he would say to himself. the positives outweighed the risks. until one day they didn't. 

"don't fall in love with your best friend". "don't date your bandmate". "don't fuck this up for everyone if you break up."that's what they all would say. 

3 whole years of bliss. of blurred days and nights, shared beds and clothes, small and big gestures, stolen kisses and hand holds, arguments and make ups. it all finally came crashing down. 

although he's ashamed to admit it, dokyeom lost a part of himself the day it ended. he became so intertwined with the man he gave his heart to that he took half of it when he left. the worst part? he's not even gone. dokyeom sees him. every single day. this was the risk they had been warned about, and now he knows why. each new band schedule is a sharp pain in his lost heart. he wakes up everyday, the side of the bed that used to be warm with mingyu's presence is always empty. sometimes out of habit he still reaches over to him, only to be fully woken up by the harsh feeling of his hand only being met with the cold mattress. 

today he walks into the practice room, baseball cap on and a hood over it, continuing his existence as a zombie. he goes through the motions, just to survive another day. the rest of the members tip toe around them, never knowing what to say. or who to comfort. there's tension all around. his safe space has been tainted. he doesn't talk or joke around like he used to, and it makes for an eerie quiet. he puts all his effort and energy into the dance, hoping to dance until he can't feel anymore. he practices his moves over and over to the point of exhaustion, hoping to at least be good at this one aspect of his life. the formation changes, and he moves to his spot in front of mingyu. vernon messes up the timing on his move, and the music stops. they stand around as he tries to fix it and dokyeom can feel a familiar pair of eyes on the back of his neck. he's still tuned in to him. into every single aspect of the man who used to be his. he doesn't turn around.

"dokyeom" he hears, the voice just as familiar as the stare. he turns ever so slightly, just enough to see past his hood. he doesn't vocalize a response. mingyu meets his eyes for just a brief second before looking back toward the ground.

"your shoe is untied" he says quietly, clearing his throat. dokyeom follows his gaze to his shoe, which is truly untied. he mumbles an 'oh. thanks' before turning back around and kneeling down to tie it. this is how just about every interaction has gone. it went from conversations at 3 am about wedding venues and what type of cake they would want  to "your shoe is untied". dokyeom stands back up, taking in a deep breath and urging himself not to cry. he's been doing that a lot. he cries at the slightest inconvenience. he cries when something reminds him of mingyu. he's waiting for his tears to run out. 

"alright guys lets run through this full out one more time" their choreographer says. dokyeom enters his focus zone, completely blocking out what just happened. he nails every step, keeping up his energy like he never was able to before. on one particularly difficult move, he puts a little too much personality into the footwork and is immediately on the ground. he rolls over, grabbing his knee and pulling it to his chest. he doesn't even understand where its hurting yet, he just knows it is. he grits his teeth and bites his lip, seriously not wanting to cry in front of them all yet again. he hears the music stop, then voices on top of each other all at once asking if he's okay. jeonghan approaches him, bending down to look at him and asks where it hurts. dokyeom's heart starts pounding in his chest and everything starts to sound like its underwater. no no no. not now, he thinks. but he can't stop it once its started. he's having a panic attack. he can't catch his breath no matter how hard he breathes in. all his calming down techniques go out the window as he is still aware of everyone's worried eyes on him. his leg hurts so bad. he just wants to give up. he can't even dance right either. 

his eyes are closed tight when the smell of vanilla and bergamot hits his nose, then a familiar voice manages to pierce through the sound of his heartbeat. 

"hey" the voice prods softly, a softness that has brought him out of these attacks many, many times. "look at me. you're okay". reluctantly, knowing who's going to be there when he looks up, dokyeom opens his eyes. 

it does nothing to calm down his heart when he sees the genuine worry on mingyu's face, and notices how he's taken his hand in his. he rubs soft circles on the top of his hand with his thumb, using the gesture he's learned to keep him grounded in reality and out of his head. this time mingyu doesn't break away from his gaze.

"can you move your leg?" he asks gently, hoping to establish if he needs immediate care. 

he hesitantly moves his arm away from his leg and slowly stretches it out. there's only a dull pain, like he twisted something, but nothing too serious. he nods.

"okay. okay that's good" mingyu says, and everyone else lets out a relieved sigh. they casually back away, knowing all too well that mingyu can handle the panic attack. mingyu guides him towards the wall of the room and makes him sit up, back straight against the wall. he sits criss cross in front of him, placing a gentle hand on his calf. 

"you ready?" he asks, referring to the breathing technique he uses to calm him down. dokyeom nods, still too much in a shock to use any guide of vocalized words. he matches his breaths with mingyu for a minute or two, until the rest of the room comes back and he feels human. he feels nauseous at the sight of mingyu sitting there, worried sick with the ever lasting trace of love written all over his face. his hand has moved up to rest on dokyeom's knee. 

he breaks his silence. "why are you helping me?". he can't hold himself back from asking. 

the last of piece of mingyu's heart that was holding itself together by a thread finally breaks after that question. how doesn't he know that he will never stop loving him? he will be the first one there to help him, and the last one to leave when he's not well. he will never forget all the little things he's learned about him. like how he likes to sleep with a fan on at night even if its freezing, just for the white noise and mingyu has to use an extra blanket just to make it through. like how he can't eat dinner at home without watching a baseball game in the background. like the grounding techniques he needs to calm him down from a panic attack. he can't erase him away, even if he tried. 

"can't you see, kyeom? i'll never stop" he replies, meeting his eyes and truly, for the first time since the breakup, looking back at the soul that has become intertwined with his for the rest of his life. for better or for worse.

[theoreticslut]

"Why do they hate me so much?”

pairing: fred weasley x reader x george weasley (*might change)

requested: no

word count: 3k

warnings: mentions of cheating, SFW

A/N: i’m attempting an enemies to lovers kind of story, but i’m not sure if it’ll really come across as that. if you haven’t noticed i kinda just write and whatever comes out, comes out. As i mentioned above the pairing of the story might change as I’m still working on it. right now its heading in the direction of both the twins, but that’s not how i originally wanted it to go, so we’ll see. I hope you guys like what I have so far, I do want to make this into  a small series so if you have any comments and/or suggestions please let me know - i would love hearing your thoughts! Xx

Taglist: @justmesadgirl @xuckduck @yikesyikesyikes95 @filipi-yes @aestheticwh0r3 @siredkai @matsuno-nadeshiko @msmarklee1213 @immajustreadwritereblog

 ^ let me know if you’d like to be added/removed!

“You pig-headed prats!” You holler, huffing as the infamous weasley twins ‘successfully’ pull off another prank, you as their target yet again.

“Oi, sweetheart. That’s a bit harsh for such a pretty lady.” Fred smirks.

“Shove off, weasley.” You hiss as you push through the two who were standing in front of you.

If you spent another minute near them you feared you’d find yourself in detention for a month. The two redheads had a way of thoroughly getting under your skin.

You’re not entirely sure what you’d done to them, but for the better part of two years now you had been the butt of many of their pranks. You’ve had everything from an itching charm put on your robes to mini fireworks exploding out of your books to the most recent of having your wand tampered with to cover you in slime instead of whatever spell you were trying to cast.

Besides that, the two had been beyond irritating to talk to. You could always find them laughing and joking with others, but they seemed much kinder than they were to you. That’s not to say that they were rude or mean to you in anyway, but their jokes and smart replies were definitely not what you needed after having been pranked.

“Y/n! Ohhh, what happened?” Your friend hermione called as you entered the common room, immediately sensing how pissed you were.

“The twins happened.” You grumble, gritting your teeth.

“I don’t know why they keep pranking you! I’ve talked them multiple times about it and I thought they had finally gotten it through their heads that it wasn’t funny.”

“Don’t worry about it, hermione. I think they were just born bloody annoying. It’s what they do and they know they’re good at it, so why stop? It’s not like we plan to be friends or anything any time soon anyway.” You huff, making your way up to your dorm.

“I know, y/n. I know. Just....let me talk to them again. I’ll make sure they stop. It’s not fair to you. Even harry and Ron get annoyed at them for it.”

“You don’t have to do that, ‘mione. I’ll just...start ignoring them, maybe that’ll get them to stop. They’re not worth my time of day anyway.”

“Alright, y/n. Well, let’s get you cleaned up. You are going to need help getting this out of your hair.”

~.~

“You two need to stop this prank thing against y/n. I’ve told you over and over, it’s not funny anymore. Do you know that it took at least five washings to get that slime out of her hair? Five!”

“Oh stop harping us, hermione. It’s not like we’re hurting her any.” Fred says, dismissing her disapproval.

“You’re not hurting her, but you’re certainly annoying all of us.” Ron says through a mouthful of breakfast.

“Why should we stop? It’s fun and honestly pretty great to get a rise out of her.” George smiles.

“Don’t you think she wonders why she’s being targeted? She is our friend, too, and you hardly prank any of us. Don’t you think she might feel a bit frustrated? Don’t you think she wonders why you two have such a vendetta against her?” Hermione pushes, becoming annoyed herself with them.

“We’ll bring it in a bit, but we’re not stopping. She’s just too easy to prank.” Fred finally offers.

“I wish you would stop completely. It’s honestly not fair to her in the slightest.” Hermione sighs, giving up for the time being.

The twins are stubborn and she knows she better take what they give her for now before they revoke their compromise to bring it back completely.

~.~

You groan to yourself as you listen to Professor Binns drone on about history. This was by far your least favourite class, even more so when you’ve had the week you’ve had.

It started monday when you woke up to a surprise visit from Aunt Flo to which you were very unprepared for. You had been meaning to get some more pads and tampons but had been so busy it had left your mind. Not only did it inconveniently arrive, it was also being a major witch this month. As soon as it hit you felt you were going to be sick. The amount of nausea you felt on top of how crampy and achy you were. You honestly felt like you had been run over by the hogwarts express.

Tuesday you had been surprised by a last minute exam that Snape decided to give out. Normally that wouldn’t be a problem, except this really was not your week and hadn’t been able to remember the potions you were being quizzed on. You had just barely passed when you normally received the higher marks that snape rarely gave out.

Wednesday you had just had a very rough day. Everything you had tried to do backfired and you ended up creating more hassle for the professors and your friends than would normally be expected. You spent the day just feeling completely useless, which continued into thursday.

Then, so far today, you woke up late and forgot your tie which earned a deduction of house points. You had spilled a bunch of ingredients in potions which earned even more deducted house points and complete embarrassment. You felt completely disgusting today even though you’ve showered and still looked put together. And most recently, just after lunch you had found your boyfriend has been cheating on you.

To put it lightly, this was just a really bad day at the end of a very rough week. The only thing you’ve been able to be grateful for is that the twins have seemingly stopped pranking you.

They still made smart remarks that you were trying your best to ignore, but for the time being you haven’t found yourself in the middle of one of their pranks.

You’re not sure why, but at least you haven’t had to deal with them on top of everything else this week.

You had managed to get all the way through to dinner where you sat very tiredly. Hermione knew you’ve been having a rough week as you were roommates, but she wasn’t sure what exactly had been happening. You hadn’t been wanting to talk about it. Harry and Ron, however, could tell you were in no mood for anything else even without knowing you’ve had a rough week.

Unfortunately, the twins did not get the memo that this was not your best week and had decided today was the day they’d prank you after leaving you alone for a couple weeks. 

they had been planning out how to do so for a few days now and were proud of what they had come with. therefore, It came as quite a surprise to the both of them when you broke out crying after setting a smoke bomb to go off when you lifted your fork.

The food had just been revealed to start dinner when you picked up your fork to grab a piece of ham from the platter in front of you.

Before you could realize what happened, the smoke bomb went off, completely covering you in soot and catching the attention of many of the students in the great hall.

Without being able to hold it in, you had started crying as Fred and George were laughing.

“What have I ever done to you? I’ve tried being nice and it always blows up in my face, quite literally right now.” You sigh, choking on your tears as you stand up from the table to leave.

Fred and George stop laughing when they hear you, their smiles dropping when they realize you had been crying. They watch as you hurry off, hoping to Merlin this encounter wasn’t being listened to and watched by everyone.

“Look what you two have done now! I told you to knock it off with all these pranks. You can’t ever listen though, can you Fred. George.” Hermione states, fuming at the red-headed twins as she gets up and follows after you.

“Oh bloody hell.” They both sigh in unison, slumping into the table.

“Bloody hell is right.” Ron says. “You really don’t want Hermione mad at you.”

“We’re not worried about hermione, mate.” Fred says, keeping his eyes on the door that y/n had left through.

“We just wanted to get her to smile.” George sighs sadly.

~.~

“Y/n!” Hermione calls as she catches up with you in the hall back to the common room.

“Please go, hermione.” You sniffle, wiping at your eyes.

“I’m not leaving my best friend out here crying all alone.” She huffs, crossing her arms as she looks at you.

“I know you had a bad week, but what’s happened? It must’ve been real bad if you break out crying like this, y/n.” She says after a minute or two.

“I’m just so tired, ‘mione.” You cry, shrinking into yourself in front of her.

you felt pathetic yet you couldn’t bring yourself to stop crying. you had been hiding it away all week and you just couldn’t do it anymore.

“Tell me what’s happened.” She urges, pulling you into a hug, her heart breaking for you. she cared for her friends more than anything, but it really broke her seeing you so upset. you were usually such a literal ray of sunshine to everyone around you, that it was painful to see you carrying so much pain.

“I’m so tired and achy and nauseous. All because I’m a bloody woman. I’ve been so unfocused that I’ve lost us so many house points. Well, more than I ever have,” you sob as hermione leads you over to a bench by the window.

“I practically failed that exam snape gave us this week and I made such a mess of his ingredients. He was so furious, hermione.” you whisper, your terrified eyes meeting hers as you recall the way he fumed over your mishap.

“I was so embarrassed. I’ve never done that terribly in his class.” you mumble.

“I’ve been nothing but a hassle to everyone around me this week and I just - I feel so bloody disgusting. It’s honestly no surprise I found my boyfriend cheating on me.” You sigh, crying more.

“He did what?!” Hermione gasped, sighing as you cry harder.

“He’s been cheating on me, ‘mione. For like two months at least! I feel so dumb and used. I really liked him, ‘mione, and he just....he just used me!”

“Take a breath, y/n. We don’t need you getting sick.” hermione urges, noticing how you’re choking for air through your sobs.

“A-and now I’m covered in soot all because the twins have something against me. I don’t know what I could have done! Why do they hate me so much?” You cry.

Fred and George frown as they hear you recount your week, having left dinner to come after you and apologize. They truly had no idea. If they did they wouldn’t have set up that smoke bomb.

“We really messed up, Fred.” George sighs, not being able to take his eyes off you as you cry in hermione’s arms.

“Yeah, we have. Come on, let’s go apologize and try to fix this.”

They make their way over to you and hermione who shoots daggers at them.

“Y/n, we’re sorry. We-“

“Would you two get out of here? You’re some of the last people she wants to see right now.” Hermione states, knowing that the twins are beyond sorry and just want to make sure you’re all right, but taking your emotional needs as her priority.

she knew that they had a bit of a crush on you even though they had never said a thing on the topic. it wasn’t hard to miss, however, when she noticed how often they’d stare at you from across the room, smiling dumbly to themselves and zoning out. it was quite adorable, actually, but she did wonder how they ever thought pranking you was the way to your heart.

“We didn’t know you’ve had such a bad week.” Fred sighs, ignoring hermione.

You start crying harder at the mention of your week. You just wanted it to end. you wanted to curl up in your bed, tucked tightly into the blankets and listen to some comforting sad songs while you cry.

“Fred, George, go back to dinner. I’m taking y/n to our room. She needs to be left alone for awhile.” hermione orders, helping you to stand even though you don’t want to. all your energy has been drained from your body so even lifting an arm to wipe at your tears felt like it was the most difficult task in the world.

The twins sigh, but nod, knowing it’s the truth. Having them around wouldn’t help anything, but they felt so guilty. they just wanted you to understand that they don’t hate you, but rather the complete opposite.

They had never wanted to upset you when they started pranking you. In fact they both saw you as a friend and had a bit of a crush on you that they couldn’t understand. Sure you were beautiful, beyond kind, and a little bit of a fireball, but you were just a girl. neither of them were quite sure when they had started feeling and thinking it, but even though they tried to tell themselves that you were, they knew deep down you weren’t just some girl.

They really aren’t the greatest with their feelings though, especially when their beyond confused with them, and decided pranking you was the best way to show that they liked you. They never prank you to be mean, they just want to make you laugh and see you smile.

~.~

Hermione had gotten you into bed after having you shower and change into some comfy clothes.

She had left to go get herself some dinner and promised she’d be back soon to see how you were holding up.

You had told her not to worry about bringing anything back for you. Instead you were just going to curl up and go to sleep.

You heard a knock on your door and sighed. You didn’t really want to talk to anyone, even hermione. You hummed out however to notify the person on the other side of the door that you were listening.

You hear your door creak open a bit and hear some footsteps enter.

“Y/n? Uh, Fred and I brought you some dinner. Hermione said you didn’t want anything, but you can’t just not eat.” You hear George say, cautiously stepping over to your bed. his voice was filled with concern which you thought odd, but couldn’t care enough to think about too long.

You hear Fred shut the door but you don’t bother looking at either of them. You’re far too numb to care at this moment.

“Y/n?” George asks after not getting a response. he didn’t think you were sleeping, but he wasn’t sure.

“Thanks. Just, set it on my trunk. Or my night table. I’m not really hungry right now.” You mumble, still not bothering to look at either of them.

“H-how are you holding up?” Fred asks, fidgeting in his place.

“Why do you care? You’ve never cared before. Either of you.”

Both the twins sigh, looking at the other with guilt written all over their faces. they’re well aware how they come across to you, but it was truly a complete misunderstanding.

“We know we made you the target of our pranks more often than not, but we weren’t trying to be mean. We just, we really wanted to make you smile. Make you laugh.” Fred sighs.

“Did quite a job at it, huh?” You ask, still staring straight ahead. You don’t have the energy to turn to look at them. And truthfully, you didn’t really want to.

“We-we’re sorry. We had no idea how bad of a week you’ve had. We, uh, we heard you tell hermione everything.” George states, rubbing the back of his neck.

“It doesn’t matter that it was this week.” you deadpan, “It’s the fact that I’ve never once enjoyed your pranks on me. It was pretty obvious, so why would you continue?” You ask, getting a bit irritated at the two twins.

“Well, uh. I-I don’t know. We’re dumb.” Fred answers.

“No, you’re not. You both are so brilliant that I’ve been jealous of you at times, but you just don’t care about school. You’d rather use all your brilliance on tormenting poor classmates or make a girl cry than apply yourselves to classes.”

You knew you weren’t being fair, but you were fed up with everything. You wanted to be left alone. you couldn’t handle socializing, much less able to handle these two trying to make up for what they’d done for years only after you broke down crying.

“No, we never wanted to make you cry. Merlin we feel so guilty that we did.” Fred tries to argue, but is promptly cut off.

“So you really don’t care, do you? You’re just trying to make yourselves feel better.” You say, finally looking over at them, a fire blazing behind your eyes. Both of them look like deer caught in headlights, not sure whether to stay put or run and in which direction if they did.

You watch as Fred gulps nervously as George opens and closes his mouth trying to find the words to not make things worse.

Even though they can’t meet your eyes, mainly because they’re scared of the anger within them, they notice just how awful you look. Not in the sense that you’re unattractive, because Merlin even now you were gorgeous, but awful in the sense of how absolutely heartbroken you look. It truly looks like your soul has been ripped from your body and your heart crushed to pieces.

Your eyes are bloodshot and puffy, your nose red from blowing it into the rough tissues on your bedside table, tear tracks etched into your cheeks almost looking like spilled ink that had run across a piece of parchment.

They can see how tired you are, and how much sadness you’re still holding in. They wish more than anything that they could comfort you, but you were making it very clear that you didn’t want them here.

“Can you please just go? I don’t really feel like keeping company.” You sigh, turning back away from them.

They both nod, even though you can’t see them. Turning to walk away, they stop to look over your form once again. They’ve never seen you so heartbroken and it scared them. You had been a light in their lives, happiness radiating from inside you  constantly spreading warm that reached deep into their souls. it hurt seeing that light extinguished.

“We’re really sorry, y/n. For everything.” George sighs, him and fred leaving you to yourself.

[luna-the-moth]

The Birth of Satan (SFW)

Hello hello lovelies! I felt the strong urge to write some Satan angst, so why not illustrate the fall, Lilith’s death, and Satan’s birth?

CW: Blood Word count: 1.3k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Staring at his previously snow-white wings, Lucifer felt a shiver of fear run up his spine, as the voice that had been plaguing his mind for eons had finally silenced.

He was used to it shrieking, furious at even the slightest inconvenience. Whenever Michael had belittled him, or Mammon had stolen Raphael's feathers, he would hear an ear-splitting voice, screech and attempt to claw it's way out of his head.

However, Lucifer had never reached that tipping point. Always reigning in his fury, his feelings of being slighted. Repressing, over and over, plastering that infuriating smirk on his face, permanently. Until now.

Watching Lilith's body fall in slow motion, Lucifer paused from his duel with Raphael, giving the other seraphim a chance to drive his spear into the future demon's torso. Yelling out in pain, Lucifer ripped it out of his body, a guttural noise of pain reverberating from his chest.

Before the angel of healing could respond, Lucifer dove through the clouds, wings spiraling down, rushing in a torpedo of blinding wings. He had to reach her, he couldn't fail her, not after everything they've been through. Not after betraying their Father, performing one of the most outrageous and traitorous actions an angel could commit.

Falling in love with a human

He could see her, limbs twisting, blood-stained wings beginning to burn, brighter than all the stars combined. She was dying, he realized. Dying for such a trivial thing. Although Lucifer hadn't seen the appeal in humans, he couldn't deny the stars in his sister's eyes when she talked about humans, the happiest she'd ever been.

How could he deny his sister of her happiness?

But now, as she plummeted into the Devildom's ground, a crater left in wake, Lucifer would've done anything to have changed his mind. To stop her from visiting the human world, even if it meant she would loathe him for the rest of their eternal lives.

Abruptly changing his flight course, Lucifer had realized too late that he was about to crash down as well. He went rolling into the dirt, wings splaying out in unnatural angles, twisting, fading into ash.

But not even moments later, he forced himself up, wings ached and burned in excruciating pain. He could see it in his peripheral vision, falling around him. Snow white feathers fading into black, corrupted with sin. Among them, the Demon Prince and his butler, stood in the far off corners of his vision, watching.

Of course, this was mere entertainment for them, he thought bitterly. This was nothing but a game, a chessboard. As he and his brothers were knocked away by their king, they were relinquished to the Devildom, unwanted, and thrown away as scraps.

Chuckling scornfully at his predicament, Lucifer hauled himself to his feet. Barely being able to stand, he staggered his way over to his sister.

With a flicker of hope, he saw her chest rise and fall, albeit weakly, but still, she was alive. Throwing caution to the wind, Lucifer painfully fluttered his wings, attempting to fly to her. However, all it succeeded in, was cause numbing pain in his back.

Finally kneeling over Lilith's body, Lucifer carefully picked her up, tears gathering in her eyes. She looked fragile, like a porcelain doll. Cracked and thrown away, nothing more than a discarded pawn.

Her wings, twisted and mangled, were already starting to fade away. With her breathing starting to turn ragged, she let out a weak chuckle, and uttered one last wish.

"Hey Luci.....? Don't....let them....fall....too....okay?"

Looking up at her brother with adoring eyes, Lilith let out one last chuckle, cheerfulness still ever-present in her eyes. With a peaceful smile gracing her blood-stained lips, Lilith breathed her last breath, body turning limp.

"No....this can't be real. Lilith, it's not your time yet, please come back, I'm begging you!" 

Tears falling freely from his face, Lucifer sobbed brokenly, tears carving their temporary scars on his face. After all he's done, and everything he's fought for, she still died. So this is what Simeon had meant when he had said no one comes out of war a victor.

Lucifer had known this fact intimately, watching humans go through the same, repetitive, heartbreaking process. Time and time again, wars and battles would be fought, but in the end, no one truly came out victorious.

Yet Lucifer had never thought the war would come to this. He thought there was still a chance, that she could live. He had anticipated losing the war, yet he had led his brethren against his own kind, choosing love, and loyalty.

Lucifer gently set down his sister's body, with one last kiss on her forehead. Seeing her body, disgraced and bloodied, had been the tip of the iceberg. Everything was red, no green, as Lucifer screamed in agony, a broken war cry.

He couldn't fight the voice inside of his mind anymore, no. It had overtaken him, rage, and pure wrath taking over his instincts. All of his composure, his masks, crumbled and let out the monster underneath. Twisting his form, he tore out his wings in a fit of rage.

Feathers flying throughout his vision, Lucifer cast the wings to the side, watching as the pure feathers had darkened into black, a sign of his sin. The heavens were cruel, and always were. Yet Lucifer had never experienced it's full fury and viciousness until now.

Clutching his head between his hands, Lucifer finally had a moment of peace. For eons, his mind had been plagued with wrath, always taunting him from the back of his mind. Now, he felt himself, with no one else influencing his decisions.

However, Lucifer's grief was far from spent.

No, fate couldn't let this man have a single moment of peace, could it?

Behind him, where his wings once lay, was a black and green mass. Writhing and erratically moving, it started taking on a form. Twitching and lumping itself together, if gradually started taking on a solid form.

A unicorn, Lucifer realized with a startle. With black, skeletal armor, and a fiery green mane, it reared it's head and whinnied loudly. It's horn, a deep obsidian, carved with emerald, glinted in the Devildom moonlight.

This wasn't like any creature Lucifer had seen before. In his entire lifetime, Lucifer had never seen something as volatile, furious, and absolutely magnificent as this.

The unicorns in the Celestial Realm had been tame, calm, and soothing creatures, renowned for their medicinal abilities.

Yet this one looked at him with absolute disgust, an intense hatred burning in it's furious green eyes. Or, what he thought were eyes. In the eye sockets of the beast, were bright green flames, which Lucifer assumed were eyes, as they narrowed and behaved like his own.

With a taunting gleam in it's eye, the beast wordlessly stood before Lucifer, who was already broken and bloody. Prideful and arrogant, the beast stood proudly, brandishing it’s strength compared to Lucifer’s.

It's own creator who had hosted it for years. Even so, the beast resented him, for keeping it in the corners of his mind, always repressing and quieting it's voice.

Whirlwinds of flame surrounding the unicorn, it's form took yet another shape. One more...human. No, human would be far too generous. Demonic was a more suitable word.

Horn splitting into two, twisting themselves to frame the humanoid head, the beast had started to hone itself, refining it's outward appearance. Blond locks replacing the fiery green mane, hooves morphing into hands and feet, it gradually took the form of one of the Devildom's strongest demons.

Yet, the beast couldn't help but add a finishing touch to it's form, just to mock Lucifer. With one last flourish, a boa of black feathers appeared, draping his neck, a final mark of rebellion against his creator.

Flashing a nasty grin towards the fallen angel, Satan jeered at him, seeing the all-powerful Lucifer Morningstar, broken and grieving. It was almost laughable, at how weak and pathetic his previous host looked.

With a smile full of spite, he spat out a venomous statement, filled with loathing and hate.

“Hello, Lucifer. Did you have a nice fall?"

[merakiaes]

Pussy Whipped - Oscar “Spooky” Diaz

Pairing: Oscar “Spooky” Diaz x reader

Requested: Yes. 

Prompts: None. 

Warnings/notes: I lacked good ideas for dialogue in this one so this is shit, I’m sorry😂 Not proofread so sorry in advance for any possible mistakes. Translations for the Spanish bits are at the end. 

Wordcount: 2420

Summary: Mother nature pays you an early visit and Oscar treats you like the princess you are even though his Santos are watching. 

The weather was thriving outside, the air a perfect temperature and the sun shining down on all of Freridge. Yet, on this particular Saturday morning, you were absolutely miserable.

It was eleven o’clock and Oscar had been up for God knows how many hours already, while you had refused to leave your bed when the alarm had urged you to get up and get on with your day.

You’d had a lot planned for the day; chores like cleaning the house and switching out the broken lightbulb in the bathroom, and errands like going to the mall to get Cesar a new pair of shoes and go grocery shopping.

But no, as usual, mother nature chose the most inconvenient of times to pay you her monthly visit, never taking your planned cycle into much consideration.

With Oscar being in charge of Los Santos, he was always an early riser and you rarely woke up next to him, so in any other case, you didn’t mind.

But when you woke up this morning to a cold, empty bed, you had grown sad and started crying, and because of this realized pretty much instantly what was going on, even before the intense pains started.

But the cramps weren’t far behind, stopping you from getting out of bed any more than to go put in a tampon. After that, you had buried yourself under the mountain of blankets Oscar so stubbornly insisted that you slept with and cried even more because of the fact that they smelled like him and he wasn’t there to hold you.

You lost track of how long you laid there and just sulked, feeling sorry for yourself and craving everything you didn’t have in the house, but the second you heard people entering the house, followed shortly by Oscar’s voice cutting through the previously silent air, you defied the painful cramps radiating all through your abdomen and left the safety of your bed. 

It was with sulking and begrudging steps that you made your way out of your shared bedroom and headed straight for the living room.

With each step you took, the voices now speaking freely became louder, and you realized only then that your head was throbbing in sync with your uterus, making you cringe silently to yourself.

But you pushed on, desperate to be near Oscar in all your self-pitiful glory and entered the living room only seconds later.

You spotted Oscar where he was sitting in the couch instantly and when feeling your eyes on him, he looked up to meet your gaze.

The smile that had been stretched across his lips prior to your entrance faltered ever so slightly at the sight of the state you were in; hair thrown into a properly messy messy-bun, eyes bloodshot, cheeks streaky with dried tears and your body still dressed in your sleeping attire consisting of a pair of leggings and one of his very oversized t-shirts.

You were always one to start your day early. Not as early as him, but still early. You didn’t like to stay in your pajamas, so when you did, something wasn’t right.

“¿Qué pasa?” He asked you as you approached him at the couch, passing a few other Santos sitting on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Your lips automatically pulled into a small pout at his question, starting to feel your emotions getting the better of you again.

“I’m dying.” You answered in a small voice, looking down at him.

He wasted no time in shuffling further back into his seat and opening his arms, nodding his head lightly. “Come here, mami.”

You didn’t have to be told twice, sitting down in his lap and feeling a rush of calmness go through your body the second his arms wrapped around you. Getting comfortable, you leaned your back against his chest.

Sad Eyes, who was sitting next to Oscar, wordlessly accepted your legs over his knees while taking a sip out of the beer he was holding in his hand.

Meanwhile, the other three Santos who were present looked on with amused expressions as their fearless leader pressed a kiss to the top of your head and started rubbing your arms in a soothing manner.

“You going soft on us, Spooky?” One of them asked, but before Oscar even got the chance to reply, you flashed a fierce glare at him.

“Shut it, Manuel.” You snapped, snuggling further into Oscar’s chest.

Manuel whistled, smirking at you. “Damn. You on your monthlies?” He laughed at his own joke, but the others didn’t join in, having known you for longer and knowing exactly what was up.

“Yes, I am on my period.” You confirmed with hard eyes. “No, that does not mean that my anger is irrational.”

Oscar pressed a kiss to the side of your neck from behind you, clasping his hands in front of your chest. “Calm down.” He mumbled into your skin, pressing another kiss to the spot between your neck and shoulder. “Flow came early this month, huh.”

“Mhm.” You hummed, his affections calming you down immediately. “It’s ridiculous. I shouldn’t be punished for not being pregnant.” You complained to yourself, scoffing lightly.

“Psh, how bad can it be? So what you got cramps.” Manuel dropped yet another comment, shaking his head.

This time, you only closed your eyes and took a deep breath through your nose, focusing on Oscar’s soft touches in order to not blow up right then and there.

Instead, the Santo next to him slapped him across the chest, giving him a look of disbelief. “Dawg, do you have a death wish or something?” He asked. “You don’t question chicas when they’re on their flow. Rule one.”

“I’m just sayin’, homie. It can’t-“

“How about you let me stab you in the stomach a hundred times?” You interrupted him, opening your eyes and raising an eyebrow at him. “And then make you walk around like everything is fine while you bleed from your privates?”

His nose scrunched up in disgust at your words, his previously teasing attitude dropping. “Keep those bloody details to yourself. That shit’s disgusting.”

Your eyebrows shot up even further at that. “Well, that’s pathetic.” You chuckled. “What’s really disgusting is that men are still grossed out about girls getting their periods in the twenty-first century. I’m sure your mother was praying to get hers but she got you instead. Tragic.”

Oscar’s chest shook with laughter behind you, the other Santos joining in while Manuel looked sheepish.

“She got you there, ese.” Sad Eyes spoke up for the first time at that, shaking his head with an amused smirk crossed over his features. “You know, there’s a reason Spooky’s got a ruca and you don’t.”

“Yeah, and this is it.” You agreed with a snort, before looking at your boyfriend’s right-hand man with gratitude. “Thank you, Sad Eyes.”

He gave you a nod, face still amused. “I got you, Lady Spooky.” He chuckled, but Manuel wasn’t half as amused, glaring around at you.

“Why you ganging up on me?” He asked, offended, and one of the Santos immediately delivered a slap to the back of his head.

“Because you’re stupid.” He answered, and while the two continued to bicker back and forth, you turned to look at Oscar behind you.

His face was pulled into a similar expression as Sad Eyes’; one of pure amusement as he quietly watched the scene unfold. But his face turned sincere when he averted his gaze to meet yours, eyes turning soft.  

“You need anything?” He asked, and you wasted no time in nodding, giving him your best puppy-dog eyes even though you knew for a fact that it wasn’t necessary to get what you wanted.

“Can you go get my heating pad?” You asked, touching his face with your hand lightly. “And an Advil, too.”

He stared into your eyes for a long moment, taking in every feature of your face, before slowly nodding his head.

At this point, the bickering stopped and all of the Santos were watching you with amused expressions.

“Check this out, this is where Spooky’s manhood dies.” One of them, this time not Manuel, remarked, causing all of them to laugh.

Oscar’s face broke into an equally as playful smirk as he moved his attention from you to his homies, raising his eyebrows at them. “You know how it is, compa.” He joined in, shrugging his shoulders. “I gotta treat my future baby mama good.”

He rubbed your arms for a moment longer, before starting to stand up.

Naturally, since you were sitting in his lap, you were stood up with him and instantly felt your stomach pull together in pain. You managed to ignore it and raised an eyebrow at your boyfriend instead.

“You planning to put a baby in me, Diaz?” You asked teasingly, and he smirked down at you, wrapping his arms around you.

“You know it, mamas.” He fired back without missing a beat, leaning his face closer to yours while caressing your butt shamelessly. “With my smarts and your looks, our babies will conquer the world.”

“Are you insinuating that I’m not smart?” You questioned, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course not, mi amor. The smartest person I know.” He was quick to defend himself and pressed a kiss to your lips before you could say anything else.

You smiled into it, neither of you caring in the slightest that his Santos were watching you with different expressions. At this point, they were all used to Spooky’s soft spot for you. Or well, everyone but Manuel was, him being fairly new.

But luckily, he was smart enough to understand not to point it out anymore, with the way the others were averting their gazes and minding their own.

Breaking apart from the kiss, you shared a final look before Oscar wordlessly walked into the kitchen to bid to your wishes, while you got back into the couch.

This time, you laid down flat on your back, your head resting on the armrest and Sad Eyes once again accepting your legs over his knees without as much as a single complaint.

The man in question started conversing with the other Santos while Oscar was busying himself in the kitchen and meanwhile, you just laid there in silence, listening in to the conversation at hand with an arm draped over your eyes in an attempt to block out the sunlight streaming in through the window for the sake of your throbbing head.

Five minutes later, the conversation happening around you quietened down and another second later, you felt a prod against your arm. 

Removing said arm from over your eyes, you caught sight of Oscar now standing above you, holding your heating pad in one hand and a glass of water in the other.

A smile instantly graced your features and you wasted no time in pulling yourself into a sitting position, pulling your legs up to your chest.

“Thank you, baby.” You thanked him, gratefully accepting the glass of water along with the pill he had been holding in his hand behind it.

You swallowed the pill with a few sips of the water and handed the glass back to him, trading it for the heating pad that you wasted no time in placing at the bottom of your stomach.

You let out a sigh of relief at the feeling of the heat and Oscar raised an amused eyebrow. “Better?” He questioned and you nodded, wrapping your arms around your legs and leaning your cheek on your knees.

“Much.” You smiled, and he smiled back before heading back into the kitchen with the glass.

Only a few seconds later, he walked back into the living room with his phone in his hand, raising it slightly in a signal to his Santos.

“Got a text. Let’s dip.” He told them and they didn’t need to be told twice, all of them beginning to stand up from their respective seats.

Oscar’s face was much colder now, almost completely free of emotion, but as he walked over to you, his eyes still went soft at the sight of you.

You offered him a soft smile, taking his hand in yours once he reached you by the couch. “Can you go by the store when you get back?” You asked. “The fridge is empty and I’m hungry. And I’m all out of tampons.”

He nodded his head simply, squeezing your hand. “Te apoyo, cariño.”

Sad Eyes was the last one out of his seat beside you, shaking his head and chuckling, watching his best friend basically turn into a pile of mush at one simple touch from you.

“She’s got your cojones locked up tight, compa.” He teased, and you watched as Oscar’s playful attitude returned at the comment.

“Cállate.” He chuckled, looking at him, before turning back to you. “I'll get you some of that chocolate you like, too.”

He used his thumb to caress your knuckles and you smiled at the feeling, feeling your body grow warm at his affection. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you, mi amor.” His hand dropped yours, instead reaching out to touch your chin. “Go lay down. I’ll be back soon.”

You nodded, still smiling softly, but instantly raised an eyebrow when his hand left your chin and he turned to walk away.

“Hey, where are you going?�� You asked, giving him a smirk when he turned back to look at you. “Forgot something.” You pointed to your lips, raising your head from your knees and straightening your neck to give him better access.

He chuckled at you as you started making kissing noises, but nonetheless leaned down to press a quick kiss to your pouting lips. “I love you.”

“Love you, too, baby.” You smiled and leaned your head back on your knees, now content and allowing him to walk away from you.

“Pussy whipped bitch.” Sad Eyes wasted no time in commenting once he reached him in the doorway of the front door, and Oscar, in turn, wasted no time in playfully shoving his chest.

“You looking to scrap, cabrón?” He asked, shoving him again. “I’ll give it to you.”

Sad Eyes stumbled into the wall behind him at the sudden force but he quickly regained his composure, starting to play-fight back. 

You shook your head as they exited the house and let the door shut behind them, listening to their Spanish bickering until the sound of Oscar’s Impala starting and driving away filled your ears, only then speaking fondly to yourself.

“Idiots.”

Translations (I’m not a native Spanish speaker so this might not be a hundred percent accurate):

¿Qué pasa? – What’s wrong? Te apoyo, cariño – I got you, baby

[yandere-daydreams]

Yandere demon x demon, let's not neglect our hell pals

tw - mentions of death/violence, mentions of blood, implied imprisonment, emotional manipulation, emotional abuse.

It’s only valid if there’s an extreme power imbalance between you and your demonic pursuer. You’re new to this, new to death, whereas they were born, raised, and taught in the deepest depths of hell, trained to use the teeth and claws and awful, awful urges you’re so scared by for what they’re meant to be used for. It doesn’t help that you’re not exactly coping well with the sudden change, either. They don’t know how someone so innocent ended up in such a grim state, honestly, not when you’re so hesitant to draw blood, so reluctant to fight back when they try to provoke a less-than-moral reaction out of you, but they’re not one to complain. They know what’s going on in that sick, freshly twisted little brain of yours, and they know how difficult it is to resist. They know how the smell of carnage makes your mouth wander, they know how easy it is to let your temper flare at the slightest inconvenience, and they know how impossible it is to fight it off, to push it down until there’s nothing but bitter rage and resentment for the state you’ve been reduced to. Until there’s nothing but impulse, thoughtless and careless and so, so adorable. 

They’ve always wanted their own pet, all wide eyes and mindless hunger and the willingness to bite the hand that feeds you, if only because you want something to bite. They’ll run their hands through your hair as you tear into all the meal they so generous caught for you, kissing your forehead as you snap and growl and sob while telling you what a good job you’re doing, asking you how good it feels to give in to all those dark urges. They don’t mind holding you while you cry, afterward, and they’re more than willing to confirm all those nasty things you think about yourself. You’re a monster, now. They are too, they suppose, but this is about you, not them. Don’t try to change the subject.

You’re a monster, so it’s only fitting that you behave like one.

[hwajin]

#! — [ 20:25 ] Hwang Hyunjin

— gn!reader tho use of "princess" as nickname // sfw // not my pics

You stormed into your apartment, slamming the door wide open while throwing your shoes into the corner of your entrance hall. Your bag made its’ way into the kitchen flying onto the table, you quickly stepped into the living room to fall down on the couch.

Exhausted was an understatement to how you were feeling in this moment. Work was driving you insane, your “friends” there sitting on your last nerve the past few days. You were angry at everyone and everything, you didn’t want to see, let alone talk to anybody. You didn’t know what you wanted, tears of anger building up in your eyes, the urge to scream your lungs out hit you intensly. Your habit of not being able to control your emotions well was taking hold of you once again, and you weren’t able to hold the angry tears back that now streamed down your eyes. It made you angrier that even the slightest inconvenience had the power to turn you into the crying mess you were right now, but it was impossible trying to contain calm.

The light steps you heard coming down the stairs behind you made you flinch in confusion, not knowing anyone was home already. But those featherly-like footsteps you heard made your heart flutter in excitement immediately. Not long after you felt warm arms tighten around your upper body from behind, a comforting smell surrounding your whole as you melted under Hyunjin’s touch. You felt him lean over to you so his head was on the same level as yours now, his blonde, messy hair tickling your cheeks slightly. You could feel his warm breath on the place between your neck and shoulder, and you couldn’t help but shiver at the contact. Hyunjin turned his head to give you a kiss on your cheek, noticing that it was covered in tears.

“Princess, what is it?”, he asked, the nickname he was using since the start of your relationship still keeping you breathless. He walked around the couch quickly to sit down next to you, pulling you into his warm and secure embrace fast. You didn’t answer him, the only thing you were able to do was sigh as he started stroking your hair in simultaneous movements. The tears that were streaming down your cheeks just a second ago disappeared, the only thing you could focus on was Hyunjin now. All the thoughts keeping your head busy before vanished due to his presence, your anger long forgotten.

“Work, huh?”, he asked with a calming voice, the voice you would never get tired of listen to. You just nodded your head, to tired to speak. Hyunjin understood your actions perfectly, knowing exactly what you needed in moments like this. He placed his arms on your shoulders to pull you away for a quick moment, only to give you a sweet, passionate kiss. It felt like seconds before he disconnected his lips from yours, making you let out a quiet whine due to the loss of touch. He chuckled at your pouting face, placing both his palms on your cheeks to make you look him into the eyes.

“It’s alright now, I’m here.”, he said, placing a kiss on your nose. You scrunched up your face out of a reflex, earning a sweet eye smile from Hyunjin. He tapped on his laps to signal you to sit down on them, you taking the offer with open hands. You climbed up onto him, wrapping around him like a koala. His familiar warmth washed a wave of tiredness over you, your eyes closing heavily at the cozy feeling surrounding you. You felt Hyunjin’s arms reaching for something before you felt a warm blanket over you, his arms wrapped around you tightly adding to the comforting feeling you felt internally. You placed your head on Hyunjin’s chest, hearing his steady heartbeat which almost made you drift off to sleep. The last thing you sensed was the soft ‘I love you’ that Hyunjin whispered into your ear before you fell asleep in his arms. 

[maandags]

can i have something with draco malfoy and plants

the Forbidden Forest is quiet this time of night.

granted, the Forbidden Forest is quiet pretty much always, which is mainly due to the fact that it’s — surprisingly — forbidden for students to roam and wander. for good reason, too; the man-eating spiders and the morally questionable centaurs that, among others, make up its population aren’t known to be particularly friendly towards Hogwart’s students.

this, like all the warnings your friends have bombarded you with to try and keep you from entering the Forest, did not deter you in the slightest. in fact, it just made you want to explore its woods more. and so that’s why, at twelve whole years of age, you first set foot in the Forbidden Forest. now, you only went maybe 50 feet into the Forest that first time, giggling to yourself, adrenaline coursing through your veins, hand gripping your wand — looking over your shoulder every couple of minutes to make sure the school grounds weren’t out of sight — but it was enough to give you a taste, show you the smallest of flickers of the life brewing deep inside the forest, and it left you addicted straight away.

now, four years later, your little excursions to the Forest are never more than a few days apart. you know its paths, know its flora and fauna, know every square inch of it like the back of your hand. you’re not scared anymore of going.

nevertheless, the first few steps are always a thrill. it’s the tangible change in atmosphere, the soft bed of grass beneath your feet making way for a layer of dead leaves and branches and rocks where the tiniest of creatures wriggle about. it’s not fully dark yet, so you walk slower than you usually would, allowing yourself to look around and try and recognise as many plants and beasts as possible. (another reason why you didn’t really want to stop your visits to the forest: your Herbology and Care of Magical Creatures marks have never been higher.)

after an hour or so, as you trudge deeper into the forest, the surroundings start to grow more visibly magical in nature. trees look blurred when you try to look at them directly. big leaves shift unnaturally in completely still air. sparkly birds let out trills that sound a little too human. a swarm of small, yellow-and-blue songbirds fly over. one of them swoops down and lands briefly on your outstretched arm, and you pet it, resisting the urge to bury your fingers in the fluffy plumage, knowing full well that instead of flesh and bones these birds are made of some sort of bluish-black goop that a) smells absolutely rank, b) along with sticky and very quick-hardening seems to be vaguely acidic in nature and c) is a major bitch to wash out of clothing.

the bird flies at your side for a while, trilling in response to your soft whistles, the tip of its wing tickling your cheek every other minute. you spot a few pixies, who respond to your cheery wave with a string of hoots and screeches, a cluster of three-feet-tall mushrooms pulsing with a harsh pink light, and a slow-moving cloud of gold mist, which you give a wide berth, holding your breath for good measure.

then an arrow whizzes past your ear, and your hand flies up with a gasp. your fingers come away red with blood.

you spin on your heel, hand pressed up to the side of your head, and narrow your eyes at the centaur standing ten feet away from you. ”haha, Brin. very funny.”

he levels an unimpressed stare at you. ”you know you’re not supposed to be here, Y/N.”

”you’ve been telling me that for four years now.”

”and you’ve been ignoring it for four years.”

”indeed I have.” you spin around, yanking the arrow from the tree it landed in. ”can I keep this?”

Brin glares at you. you roll your eyes but hand the arrow back to him. ”you’re no fun. that arrow has my blood on it, I should be legally allowed to keep it.”

Brin shakes his head, turning around and starting to walk back the way he’d (supposedly) come. ”I can’t even begin to explain how flawed that logic is.”

you snicker, hurrying after him. Brin might be a little stuck up, but he’s also one of the few friends you have in the Forest, and even then you don’t see him that much. ”so. how’ve things been here?”

Brin briefly glances up at the sky, and you immediately regret asking, already steeling yourself for an incomprehensible monologue about stars and the positions of planets and whatnot. if you were better in at astronomy, you probably would have been able to understand some of it, but you’re shit at astronomy, so it’s mostly gibberish to you.

but all Brin says is, ”things are stirring.”

you raise a brow. ”things?”

”are stirring, yes.”

”stirring.”

”yes.”

”the things.”

he looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. ”I really don’t know what more you want from me, Y/N.”

you look back up at him, unflinching. ”literally anything else. ‘things are stirring’ is all I got out of you, and that’s not much to go on.”

Brin sighs, short and sharp. ”I shouldn’t have mentioned anything. forget about it. it’s not something you should concern yourself with.”

you pretend to gag. ”you sound like Bane.”

Brin opens his mouth, about to object, but stops dead, narrowing his eyes and throwing out an arm to stop you. his tail swishes from side to side and he stands still, head cocked, listening intently.

for all your joking around, you immediately shut your mouth, the tension gripping Brin all of a sudden leaking into your body as well. it’s all fun and games until a centaur gets genuinely nervous, and in those situations it’s best to watch the aforementioned centaur and do what they do. your hand slowly creeps towards your robe’s breast pocket, where your wand is stored, but you don’t pull it out yet.

Brin’s eyes flick to you, irritation flashing in them. ”someone’s here.”

you pause, not sure if this is an inconvenience or a Bad Thing. ”um. elaborate, please?”

Brin takes a deep breath. ”one of yours.”

as if on cue, the silence is split by a blood-curdling scream.

your head snaps towards where the sound came from, but it’s too dark and too far away to see. ”shit,” you mutter under your breath, before summoning a globule of light to hover in front of you and taking off in the direction of the scream.

one of you. did that mean another human? a wizard? a Hogwarts student? but no, it couldn’t be — no Hogwarts student would be insane enough to venture this far into the Forbidden Forest this late into the night.

as you follow the strangled cries of panic and yelps of pain, you start to get a dim visual of what happened, and you curse again.

Devil’s Snare. the little shits are everywhere, their roots creeping along the forest floor and waiting for any living thing to stumble across them. you’ve since learned to look out for them, jump over them and walk just fast enough to avoid getting entangled, having had a few close calls yourself.

this Snare is a particularly nasty one. old, gauging by its height and the thickness of the vines sprouting from its core. strong. fucking hell. you stop just out of reach, sending a few more globules of light to surround it as to get a better view of what the exact fuck is going on.

the person is almost completely covered in vines at this point. struggling, crying out in fear and pain, gasping for breath. the vines, of course, only tangle further around his body. after a bit of heated internal debate, you begrudgingly admit that if you’re going to help this guy, you’ll need to get closer. so you do, careful not to get too close just yet. the light you’d sent up is not enough to make the Snare let go of its prey, but it is enough to (mostly) prevent any stray vines from grabbing hold of your ankles.

”stay still!” you shout, kicking a vine away and shooting three more lights to hover around the trapped guy.

he does not stay still. in fact, he doesn’t look like he heard you at all.

in the meantime, the smaller vines have taken more of an interest in you as you approach, and you growl, muttering a spell under your breath. a straight blade of white-hot flame sprouts from your wand, and as you calmly swing it in a wide arc, the light and the heat makes the plant recoil. as you pick your way through the branches and vines, getting ever closer to the guy, whose struggling is starting to get weaker, you cup your hands around your mouth, almost singing your eyebrows with your sword of fire in the process, and repeat, ”STAY FUCKING STILL!”

”what?”

”STAY STILL. I can’t help you unless you stay still!”

a faint groan sounds, and the figure stops struggling for a split second, but the vines tighten around him and out of reflex his arms shoot out, trying to fight the pressure off his chest.

”oh my god, I cannot believe I’m doing this,” you pant, closing the rest of the distance between you with a couple big leaps, landing smack in the middle of the biggest and nastiest vines, and that’s when you discover that the biggest and nastiest vines also have spikes, because the vine that immediately wraps around your calf digs its spikes into your flesh and you cry out.

a hand flails in front of your face. you grab the wrist to which it is attached. a plan forms in your mind — a crazy plan, an insane plan that just might be the death of both you and the unknown guy. but it’s the plan you have, and thus the plan you’re going with.

with your fiery blade you cut through a few of the vines that cross the guy’s chest — and then you put your wand away, extinguishing the fire and quickly stuffing your wand in your breast pocket.

”what are you doing?” he asks, and that’s when it clicks. the indignant tone he still manages to have even though he’s being crushed to death; the curl of his lip you can’t make out in the fray but can picture perfectly in your head.

you reel back, though it’s not as dramatic as you’d have liked it to be, because a thick vine has already snaked across your back (but that’s okay, that’s part of the plan, it’s okay, it’s fine) and you only manage to be pushed back into his chest with an oof.

you wrangle free, pulling back just enough to be able to make out his face. ”Malfoy?”

recognition flashes in his eyes — nothing more than two specks in the darkness — and he says quietly, ”Y/N.”

”fucking — ow —” spikes dig into the back of your thigh — ”the fuck are you doing here?”

”I think we have other things to worry about right now,” he says faintly, grunting as he’s pushed closer to you.

you scrunch up your nose but concede, promising yourself that you’ll question him later — if you even get out of this alive. ”if I die right now, Malfoy — for you — I will come back to life so I can murder you myself.”

he purses his lips, but nods, as if to say, ”that’s fair.” it is. it is fair. little shit.

you take a breath, steeling yourself, then dive down into the tangle of writhing vines at your feet, ignoring Malfoy’s shout of your name above you.

this is where it gets gross, and where you might lose a hand. one hand comes up to your chest and yanks out your wand, and the other searches beneath you — vines, vines, spikes (ow), more vines, a single leaf, and then, finally, the disgustingly soggy pulsing heart of the plant. you give a triumphant ”AHA!” then stick your wand into the core with a squelch that makes you gag, pull out your hand and shout the sword of fire spell. the flaming blade cuts through the heart. the vines shudder — convulse — and then go limp, and you shrug them off, staggering away, gagging, tripping twice before falling against a tree and retching, a hand pressed against your stomach, taking deep breaths, trying to blink the black spots away.

as soon as you feel like you can shout without throwing up, you march up to Malfoy, who looks about as good as you feel, tear out your wand and stick it under his chin and yell, ”WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?”

you expect him to yell back. that’s how the two of you have always functioned: you shout something, he yells something back. he yells something, you shout back.

but he doesn’t. he just stands there, looking deflated and shaky and frankly on the verge of tears. ”thank you, Y/N.”

it catches you off-guard. you pretend it doesn’t. Malfoy never thanks anyone. ”no, fuck you. answer my goddamn question. what are you doing here?”

”I was following you, all right? I know you’ve been going into the Forest for ages, and I wanted to know what you got up to. that’s it.”

you scoff. ”right. you were just following me. that’s not creepy at all.”

”listen, Y/N. I don’t know what else you want from me.” he sounds tired and defeated and it makes you angry, because it’s so Not Malfoy that it’s unsettling, and the last thing you need right now is ‘unsettling’.

you throw your hands up into the air and start stomping away. ”I don’t know! I don’t fucking know. just — ugh!” you kick a dead tree stump, out of which comes charging a single fat gnome, waving a small stick and shouting an incomprehensible string of what are without a doubt profanities you’ve never even heard of.

”Y/N.”

”what?!”

”you’re bleeding.”

you stop walking, dropping your face in your hands and bursting into tears.

ten seconds. that’s all you allow yourself. ten seconds until you’ve got to get yourself together; ten seconds to scream and cry and sob your heart out. ten seconds, and then you take a deep, deep breath, wipe your cheeks and say, ”right,” and start walking again.

for a moment you don’t hear anything, and you think Malfoy is going to stay behind — but then he sighs and jogs a few steps to catch up to you. you walk in silence for a long time. the only words you say is when you quietly warn him not to step too close to a certain rock, or not to touch a certain flower.

when you absent-mindedly pull a leaf off a green plant and press it to your nose, inhaling deeply, he looks to you in alarm. you roll your eyes. ”it’s mint.” you inhale again, letting your eyes flit closed. ”it’s comforting.”

a little bit later, and there’s a faint rustling to your right. Malfoy sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth; you rub a tired hand to your eyes. ”I was almost thinking you’d just left.”

Brin purses his lips, picking you up and wordlessly depositing you onto his back. you let your head drop against his back. ”thank you, Brin.”

”I would have helped you.”

”I had it under control.”

”I know.” he extends a hand towards Malfoy, who looks at it for a split second, then his gaze flits to you; you give a small nod, and a half second later he’s sat behind you, hands carefully resting on your hips.

”you…” your voice falters. ”you don’t have to do this, you know. Bane… and Magorian… surely they don’t approve of this.”

”they won’t know,” Brin says quietly. the forest around you slowly shifts back into a more peaceful atmosphere. the songbirds return. moonlight starts to filter through the foliage, and you take a breath you hadn’t realised you’d been needing.

a few hundred feet before the edge of the Forest, Brin stops. ”this is as far as I go.”

Malfoy slides off his back, then holds a hand for you to take, and you do, because you’re tired and wobbly and unsure whether your legs will hold your weight.

”thank you,” Malfoy says. you cast him a sideways glance. that’s the second time he’s thanked someone tonight, which is two times more than you thought he was capable of.

you nod curtly. Brin bows his head, then levels his gaze at you. ”I hope I don’t see you again, Y/N.”

you give him a lopsided grin. ”no promises.” and for the first time, something like a smile peeks through the centaur’s serious facade.

the last trek back onto school grounds is uneventful, bar the fact that the adrenaline has now completely worn off, and you start to feel sore all over, and you realise that your left leg — calf and thigh — is indeed bleeding. a lot. you have scratches on your arms and a nasty one on your cheek as well, and you’re covered in muck and grey slime. you probably look like something straight out of a Muggle zombie apocalypse film.

”you know the forest well,” Malfoy says as you step out of it.

you’re too tired to argue. ”yeah,” you reply simply. ”I love it.”

”you’ll be going back?” there’s a slightly incredulous hint to his voice, like he doesn’t quite believe it himself — you almost died. how could you possibly want to go back to such a place?

but the truth is that you do. you do want to go back. because the forest has been more of a home to you than Hogwarts has ever been. because you love its trees and its bushes and its weird magic plants and its pixies and centaurs and birds of enchantment. you love everything about it. even the near-death experiences. that’s what makes it fun.

”I will,” you say. ”I will be going back, Malfoy.” it sounds a little too much like a challenge. it sounds like you’re saying; try and stop me. I dare you.

he merely nods. he’s taken out his wand and cast a simple light spell, and the glowing tip of the wand sways as he walks. in the light, his eyes reflect gold. ”good.”

your eyebrows shoot up with the speed of a thousand Firebolts. ”excuse me?”

he grins; a boyish, sharp grin, that makes your stomach do a very irrelevant flip. ”I would have been disappointed if you didn’t.”

[sablesides-writing-corner]

For the bad things happen bingo, maybe stitches or painful wound cleaning with Roman and Logan/Patton? Roman being the one hurt, please?

Roman was supposed to be the hero of the story. He was supposed to swoop in and save the day and get kisses from his admiring boyfriends.

Not be stuck with his leg caught between a set of boulders, face bruised and battered, blood running down his body.

He wasnt even sure who he was supposed to be fighting at this point, he'd been outmatched by at least ten opponents by now.

Gods he must look pathetic. What would Logan and Patton think if they could see their prince now.

Patton, who fell apart at the slightest inconvenience, who needed help opening jam jars and water bottles, alone in a castle waiting for his prince to come home.

And Logan, smart and quick witted but oh so awful at close-combat, what was to happen if the castle fell and Roman wasnt there to keep him safe.

Roman wrenched his leg out from its hold, biting his lip to keep from screaming. He dragged his sword out from its sheath and let out a low guttural growl as he charged down his opponents.

And as always, the prince emerged victorious; that is, before collapsing onto the ground, his sides ached and he felt as though something was trying to claw it's way out of him. He dragged himself the rest of the way, just barely fighting the urge to scale the castle himself.

Instead, he accepted help from the two guards stationed at the door.

"Oh my!-" Patton's voice was the first to cry out at Roman's condition.

"Roman what have you been up to? Surely you havent been fighting all night have you?" Logan said as he rushed over with a medical kit.

"I have to! I have to keep you and Patton safe!" Roman said.

"Well a right good job you'll be doing if you're dead. And what of your heirs then. What a good father you'll be six feet in a ditch hm." Logan snapped as he began unpacking. Roman seemed caught off guard for a few seconds before he noticed that Logan's midsection seemed a bit larger than it usually was.

"Logan-" Roman was cut off by a rag being stuffed in his mouth.

"We'll discuss it later. We havent got any anesthesia for you so you'll just have to hold still and try to keep the screaming to a minimum. Patton can stitch you up after I clean up all the blood." Logan said, Roman inhaled sharply as he felt something cold sting his skin.

He tried his best to swallow the pain, Patton was a fairly good nurse, once he finished you could hardly tell Roman had been in a fight at all.

"Now no more going out and fending off threats, we have guards for that. You'll be right here with me and Patton whether you like it or not." Logan said.

"But I-" Patton held a finger to Roman's mouth before he could finish the sentence.

"No buts, just cuddles, you've earned them," Patton said.

And so they did, Roman in the center, with Logan under one arm and Patton under another, and the thought of fighting battles or wars far behind them.

----------------------------------------------

Tag list:

@nova-xx

@softestpatton

@meowthefluffy

@a-deceit-salad

@nerosdayinhell

@curmisery

@willowaudreykeyes

@frawkeye

@the-sad-strawberry

[cagestark]

Introduction to Ink//3

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Chapter Four

Bucky doesn’t know how he didn’t see this coming. If luck was all he had, he’d have nothing. Some greater force keeps drawing them back into each other’s orbit, except with his pants down and his hand around his cock is the most inconvenient place for those orbits to cross.

“Oh my god,” Toni says, her voice guttural and pulled from someplace deep in her chest. One hand is pressed between her breasts, startled, like she’s trying to hold her heart in place. Despite stumbling onto a very private moment, she doesn’t look away. Her entire gaze is focused on his cock even as he hastily shoves it back into his boxers and tries to tug up his jeans around his slim hips. 

Over one of her slim arms is his jacket which she had walked away with. 

“I thought you were just going to wait until it went away,” she says. “I didn’t know you—why’d you stop?”

“What the hell do you mean, why’d I stop?” 

She steps out of the treeline teetering between confident and timid: chin up but shoulders stiff. “Keep going.” 

“It’s not exactly a collaboration—” 

“I’m not collaborating. Consider me a, an audience.” 

“What?”

Sounding more like a question than a statement, she says: “I want to watch you.”

Bucky lets out a long trembling breath, head thudding back against the tree trunk helplessly, eyes shut so he doesn’t have to see her determined expression. Why is he being tested this way? Is this Heaven or Hell, because he can’t tell the difference. 

“In what world,” he asks, slitting his eyes open. “Would jerkin’ off in front of you not count as taking advantage of you? It’s like—indecent exposure!”

Like a shark with blood, she must be able to smell the weakness in the air around him because she uses it to creep a step closer, her eyes locked on the dark bulge visible beneath his open jeans. Her gaze has weight, pinning him in place and making his cock jerk, the poor bastard. It feels all the worse to be tucked away and neglected when just a moment ago he’d been chasing a quickly approaching orgasm. 

“I’ll stay right here,” she says, pointing to a soft spot of grass almost a dozen feet away. “How can you take advantage of me all the way over here?” 

Bucky shakes his head. But he makes no move to button up his jeans. 

“Bucky.” A jolt goes down his spine to settle in his cock; it’s the first time he’s ever heard his name come from her mouth, and he wants to hear it again. Wants to pull it from her throat and chest, wants to hear it shouted and groaned and whispered and whined. “I, I really want to watch you touch yourself.” 

“You’re fucking dangerous,” he mutters. The arousal makes his head fuzzy until it’s hard to think about anything else. He closes his eyes to take several steadying breaths. With a hand that trembles the slightest bit, he points. “You stay over there. The whole time.”

“Yes,” Toni hisses, maybe an answer to his demand, maybe just a victorious oath. 

“Further back. Further. That’s—fine.” 

Toni spreads out his jacket and kneels, leaning back until she is seated on her heels. Her skirt pools around her, dark and floaty, turning her into a forest nymph. Albeit, one that can’t seem to get comfortable if the way she shifts says anything. She’s wet, he remembers, cock twitching. He’d bet that she feels like liquid heat if he could slip his hands up her skirt and shift her soaked panties aside. Touch her where she’s never been touched by anyone else before. Take her clit between his fingers, hold her thighs apart and show her no mercy. 

“Come on,” she says with breathless eagerness. “Take it out, I want to see it again."

“I swear to god Toni, if you try and come over here—” 

“I won’t,” she promises. It’s the clearest her eyes have been seen she first stumbled across him in the trees. “You said not to. No means no, right?” 

He lets out a long breath. “Right.” 

Reaching down, he drags the waistband of his boxers away and down until they rest with his jeans beneath his balls. Once he starts, he knows that he won’t be able to stop. 

“This...isn’t going to take long,” he admits. Bucky’s chin drops towards his chest as he finally wraps his hand around himself again. He’s slick and hot in his grip, working himself with long, slow strokes, wringing beads of cum from the head. It’s so good that it almost hurts having been kept so close to the edge for this long. With nothing else to look at, he lets his eyes settle on her. 

Toni looks entranced. Feverish, her hands fisted in her skirt and her eyes glued to where his hand rhythmically strips his cock. For a moment, he thinks that she’s swaying drunkenly, but then he realizes that she’s tilted her pelvis, unconsciously seeking friction on her cunt.

“You don’t have any clue what you’re doin’ to me,” he says through his teeth. 

Her eyes don’t even leave his cock. “Tell me.” 

“Driving me to distraction all night,” he admits. “Making me so goddamn conflicted. Part of me wants to push you back into the grass and bury my face between your legs, tease you like you were teasing me. Keep you right there on the edge for as long as I wanted, until you’re crying because you need it so bad. I could do it. I’m, how’d you say it? Practiced.” 

A sound slips from her throat, something high and breathy and destroyed. “Keep going,” she says, chest heaving from rapid breaths. 

Bucky is helpless to obey. He licks his lips.

“Another part of me thinks that you’d like being in charge. You like power, don’t you honey? The power you’ve got over me. You want me to lay back and be good for you, let you use me? You could get off that way, just dragging your clit back ‘n forth against my cock. Afterward, you would get to decide whether I cum or not, if I get mine or if you leave me aching all night just because you want to. Just because you can.” 

She groans his name. 

Gasping, he takes his hand from his cock to keep from shooting his load. His cock bobs in the night air, beads of cum dripping from the head until he almost thinks that he’s cum anyway, ruined it for himself. But the pressure in his balls remains and a single loose stroke drives the pressure higher.

Maybe he should draw it out, he thinks, seek to make himself look impressive to her. But then his eyes drift back to her. 

Toni has laid herself back in the grass, propped up on one elbow. Dark hair pools on the ground, her face tipped up towards the trees, mouth parted. Her other tanned hand has disappeared beneath the waistband of her skirt. The fabric is tugged down far enough to bare a palm’s worth of flat midriff to his hungry eyes, but it’s hardly what has his attention. Being covered, he can only see the shape of her hand and the muted movements it makes, but there is no doubt what she’s doing. 

Bucky has just enough foresight to sink his teeth into his knuckles and stifle the noise that tears free from his chest as his balls tighten. He cums before he even manages a second stroke, seed spurting onto the grass as he resumes his prior pace. His eyes are open but unseeing, hand squeezing tight as he fucks into the ring his fingers make, milking every last drop from himself. By the time his vision returns, his legs are shaking, throat raw, the taste of blood in his mouth. 

“Fuck,” Toni cries. She barely sounds like herself. Gone is the low melodic voice she’s lulled him with all night; instead she sounds the way his own throat feels, her chest heaving in a way that makes him want to coax it up underneath her arms so that he can taste every inch of her burning skin. “Bucky please touch me—”

He drops to his knees, wiping cum onto the grass before wrenching up his pants to fasten them.

“Please, will you help me, please—” 

He crawls that last stretch of distance until he’s close enough to breathe in the faint smell of her expensive perfume, the scent of smoke—and beer.

“I’m so close—” 

His hands shake with the urge to reach out and touch her, but—

“I can’t,” he says. “I can’t, honey, you’ve got to do it yourself.” 

“No-o,” she moans. Her knees rise until the soles of her feet are flat on the ground, skirt pulled down by gravity until both of her slim, tanned legs are revealed. The pooled skirt covers her uppermost thighs and hides the movement of her hand, but now she has the leverage to move her hips in shallow thrusts, and that imagery nearly wrecks him. “I can’t. I can’t.” 

“You can, come on, focus. Lay back—there, good. Tease your nipples, it will help.” His mouth goes dry at the easy way she obeys without any snarky comebacks, laying back in the grass and shoving a hand up her soft cotton top. Teasing her tits because he told her too. God, if he hadn’t cum already, he’d be blowing his load now. 

Her eyes are closed tight, forehead creased in concentration. 

“Fuck me,” Bucky murmurs brokenly. “You’re so fucking beautiful you know that? Dirty, too. Touching yourself like this where anyone could see you, where I can see you—” 

She gives a stuttered laugh, thighs shaking around her own hand: “Hypocrite.” 

“At least I know I’m dirty,” he says. “You didn’t even know the depths of your own depravity before tonight, did you honey? Now you’re getting a clue, but I bet you’re just scrapin’ the surface. It’s an itch you’ll always be reaching to scratch, trust me.”

“Might help if I had an extra set of hands,” she says through her teeth. 

“If that’s what you need, then you won’t cum at all,” says Bucky. “But I’d bet—” 

“Hello!”

The voice echoes in the space around them, bouncing off the trees. Both of their heads turn, twin expressions of horror on their faces. Beneath the screech of crickets and cicadas comes the sound of someone picking their way through the trees with slow, careful steps.

“No, no, no,” Toni groans lowly. 

“It’s Wanda,” Bucky mutters. “Jesus, where’s my fucking shirt?” 

A hand, warm from where it was cupping her own breast, reaches out and wraps around his wrist with surprising strength. Toni looks up at him with wide, frantic eyes, lips red and bitten raw. “But I’m close, I—” 

“You want Wanda to help you with that?” Bucky asks. “Because she’s going to be here any moment.” 

Toni lets her head fall back to thud against the soft grass, the picture of frustration and dejection. He goes to rise again but her fingers tighten, pulling him back to her side. Some complex emotion is playing out across her pretty face, and he can’t follow it. For a moment he thinks something is on the tip of her tongue, but then something is on the tip of his. 

Sliding her hand from the waistband of her skirt, he gets the brief glimpse of her fingers glistening wet before she smears them across his mouth, his lips parting on instinct as the taste of her bursts on his tongue, mostly tasteless with a hint of musk that has him groaning, his mouth chasing her hand even as she pulls away. 

“Get your shirt,” she says. 

He tugs it into place just as Wanda breaks through the treeline, eyeing them with suspicion that is quickly dissolved. 

“Nat says she’s ready to play the reigning champ,” Wanda says. “I’m supposed to escort you back. Toni, are you alright?”

“Fine,” she mutters, standing on shaky legs. She picks up Bucky’s jacket and hands it to him as she passes, the flush still high in her cheeks, eyes refusing to make contact with him. Walking past either of them, she tracks her way through the woods with loud, careless steps. 

Wanda blinks at him. “Something I said?” she whispers.

[agoodgoddamnshot]

Maelstrom - Hannibal/Will [Alpha/Omega (G)]

Twitter Prompt: A/O!Verse & Baby!Graham-Lecter

The silence is deafening. Out in the halls, he can pick out muffled conversations and announcements echoed overhead. They pulse against his ears. Hospital ward sounds that fade into the background as he strains to hear Will. The screams cut deeper than any knife ever will. Every lash across his skin dug deeper and deeper with every fumbled step he was dragged away.

He fought. Of course he did. No sane Alpha would ever part with their mate, unless something, or someone, interfered.

The metal and plastic and rubber sitting in his mouth are almost suffocating. The scent of it alone, mixed with the sting of disinfectant in the halls, coats the roof of his mouth and turns his nose. The harness digs into his skin and his teeth gnaw against the bit.

His hands are free; trembling and fidgeting with everything but the harness’ buckle sitting at the back of his head. Some small sliver of logic whispers to him that it’s just for a moment, for the safety of others, and the safety of his mate while they work on him.

And the logic cowers as whatever primal, vocal part of his being snarls and stalks. Whatever that sane part of him can whisper against the shell of his ear, it will always be chased away by the same part of him that sends him into ruts and leaves his reason at the door.

So he paces, and listens. All the while his jaw flexes against the bit caught between his teeth and a harness keeping his mouth shut.

He’s away from his mate.

And his mate is in distress.

And the silence stretching out over him is too much—

“Doctor Lecter?”

His pacing falters. He reels around, looking to one of the many doors that stand between him and Will’s side. A nurse steps through the door, a hand clasped tightly around the handle, ready to pull it shut if the alpha inside the room lashes out. A security team is probably waiting outside in the hall, ready to intervene again if needs be.

That logical, sane part of him rears its head. Settle.

The nurse squares her shoulders. A brave woman, facing down a distressed Alpha separated from his labouring mate. Then again, she probably can’t smell the scents souring the air inside the room.

“Your husband is ready to see you,” she says, a small smile ghosting her lips. She takes a step inside. Brave woman, not only facing down an enraged Alpha, but a hunter. A maelstrom of thought swirls around; plans to hunt those who kept him from Will, other assurances that what he’s feeling is just hormones, and that Will is fine because of those said people—

The nurse lifts her hands, gesturing to the muzzle holding his jaw shut. “I can take it off of you now,” she explains, “just as long as you agree that your walk from here to your husband’s room is a peaceful one.”

There’s definitely a team waiting outside in the hall. Hannibal’s ears twitch at the sound of people shuffling around outside. Their footfalls are too heavy to belong to scrub-clad nurses and doctors.

Maroon eyes regard the nurse for a moment – a colour made all the more deeper by the swirling emotions and hormones flooding him. It started the very moment when he surfaced, his nose wrinkling at a change in scent. He’s known Will long enough to know what he smells like, no matter what state he’s in. The usual scent changed; it soured and twinged with something that had sleep washing off of him as he nudged his mate awake.

It was time.

Hannibal’s jaw flexes. He eventually nods.

The nurse is slow with her movements, not unlike approaching a wild animal. And maybe, at one point during their evolution, that might have been the case. No matter how many generations pass through the aeons, something primal will always remain. And he’s gone much of his life ignoring it, pushing it to the side because it was a great inconvenience.

Then Will broke down those walls and let his feral nature loose, engulfing the both of them.

A low growl clambers up his throat when the nurse slips behind him. His hands clench into fists by his side at her fingers deftly unlatching the buckle. At the slightest hint of give from the muzzle, Hannibal reaches up. The nurse backs off as he wrenches the godforsaken thing off, clamping down on the urge to fling it across the room and charge for his mate.

He shifts his jaw, letting the ache slowly work its way out. The harness sits heavily in his hand. The rubber bit is imprinted with teeth marks, impressions left behind from just wanting to gnaw at something to take the edge off. Every primal, deep-set part of him screamed to claw and bite and roar. Maybe all those aeons ago, held up in a cave somewhere, when it would have been just the two of them, he could have fought off wayward intruders.

But nowadays, he understands the measures taken by hospitals to keep their staff alive and in one piece. They had the same thing in John Hopkins. Sometimes the Alphas of families hearing unfortunate news turned feral.

He turns to the nurse, a small courteous smile ghosting his lips. “Thank you,” he rumbles. His voice will be changed, altered to be a pitch recognisable by their baby. And the thought of it has his blood beginning to curdle again. He wants to see them. And Will.

The nurse lifts her chin. “Come with me,” she says, already leading them out of the room.

He winces at the sharp, bright light out in the hall. The noise is almost too much; staff and visitors chattering among themselves, the distant cry of other labouring women and omegas. He catches the inside of his cheek between his teeth. Will.

They can’t weave through the halls quick enough. It’s a typical labour ward – painted dust pastels and with overtly friendly and calm-speaking midwives and nurses who drift between rooms. A few of them glance at the alpha being escorted by one of their own, and a small army of security guards trailing behind them. But no one looks surprised. Or even bothered. The speed in which guards flooded Will’s room and clamped his alpha’s jaw shut to stop him from lashing out only tells him that this is a regular occurrence.

At the sight of Will’s room door, his heart leaps to his throat. He has to stop himself from rushing past the nurse and bursting in himself.

The nurse stops just outside of the room, peering in the opened door and greeting who Hannibal can only presume to be a colleague. She gives a firm nod to whoever is inside before turning back to him. “Alright, you can go in.” The silent threat lingers. But behave, or we’ll take you away again.

The second he steps into the room, his hackles fall. A familiar scent twinged with sweetness coats the roof of his mouth and settles on his tongue. He takes a breath of it, letting it bloom through him like sunlight warming a room.

A gentle thrill calls for him. Hannibal’s eyes dart to the bed. Amid machines and monitors and IV stands is his mate, propped up against pillows, guarding a white bundle against his chest. Hannibal’s feet carry him over. He practically falls into Will’s side, a gentle rumble rattling out of his throat to mix with his mate’s own sounds. A nurse and midwife still remain in the room, strategically keeping themselves as far away from the mated pair and their new pup as they can. Eventually, they leave the room with muffled footfalls and the softest of clicks when the door shuts behind them.  

A tired, worn-out smile tugs the corners of Will’s lips. “What was all of that about, doctor?” a light huff of a laugh slips out of him. A tiny whelp escapes the bundle in his arms; one snapping Will’s attention back, earning a small thrill out of his throat.

Hannibal hums, utterly lost of where to look. “I may have let instincts get the better of me. I apologise, darling.” His gaze eventually settles on the small, clenched fist that wiggles free of the bundle of blankets. One of Will’s hands, pinned with a cannula, gently pries the blanket away. A small, red face peers out. Still wincing at being hauled from a quiet, safe place into a world such as this; but Hannibal’s breath catches in his throat at how rounded their cheeks are, their pursed lips and squinting eyes. Even the faintest of sand-coloured wisps dusting the crown of their head.

He’s aware of Will’s eyes on him, blearily watching him for anything to slip through that impenetrable wall he shields himself with. But the omega knows all too well that he’s chipped enough of those bricks years ago to have that wall crumbling and cascading down. A new pup is the last blow, sending dust and debris to the wind. He swallows against the lump trying to lodge in his throat.

Will’s smile only grows when their pup reaches out and nabs one of his fingers. They’re so small, barely wrapping around his fingertip. “A girl,” he whispers, suddenly mindful of the quiet that has fallen over the room. Monitors whirl and beep occasionally, but it’s a world different to when they arrived. Pain wracking through Will’s body as labour moved on without him. Growls, snarls, shouts flung down the hall. It was chaos. Will brings the pup closer to his chest, letting her forehead rest against his bare skin.

Hannibal watches, perched by the side of Will’s bed. He looks beautiful; bleary-eyed with shadows clinging to the hollows of his face, sweat-coated curls sticking to his forehead. A show of strength and resilience to bring their child into this world, by himself. Hannibal’s stomach sours at the thought of not being there. The first cry to pierce through the room should have graced his ears too. He should have been there to soothe and gentle and encourage. Those who kept him away rattle through his mind. Faint glances at nametags and a general knowledge of how hospitals and their rotas work—

“Hannibal.”

The Alpha glances to his mate. Any ounce of tiredness that plagued his mate is gone. Or at least, pushed behind hardened blue eyes. Will lifts his chin, challenging. “Don’t blame yourself or others,” he says firmly, the words almost slurring together in a growl.

“Forgive me, my darling,” he dusts a kiss to Will’s temple. “I am only now coming out of the storm.”

Will hums, letting his head fall forward and rest against Hannibal’s. The air sweetens with plumes of Will’s scent drifting around. His usual smell is intoxicating. When he can, Hannibal sets his noise to the join of Will’s neck and shoulder, or to the hollow of his throat. Most nights, curled around each other and sweat beading along skin, Hannibal can’t sleep unless his lungs are full of his mate’s scent.

And it’s all the more sweeter now that a pup is here. She’s a tiny thing, swallowed completely in a swaddling blanket and gentled against Will’s chest. Tired, cut-off whines slip out from between her lips; calls matched by her mother cooing back, gentling, assuring her that she’s safe and they’re here for her.

There’s an unspoken agreement between the two of them. It wasn’t ideal, the pup’s birth. It had been challenging from the moment Will caught the change in his scent. Mornings spent curled around a toilet bowl, gagging at every dairy product under the sun. Swollen ankles and sore feet that found a permanent home on Hannibal’s lap, with the Alpha’s fingers dutifully coaxing out every tense and painful muscle.

But instincts are instincts, and this is their first pup. Their first. Whether any more appear, that will be up to Will. Hannibal didn’t think he could have any, being the age he is. And Will isn’t that free from concern either; a body littered with scars and worn out from illness. But here is a pup, healthy and squirming and scowling at the sheer noise of the world and trying to burrow her way into her mother’s chest to escape it all.

“I don’t want to see any of those nurses or midwives on our table,” Will rumbles, just teetering on the edge of slipping asleep, “do you understand?”

A small huff of a laugh escapes Hannibal. He makes a noise in the back of his throat. “Understood.”

The explanation sits between them. The people who brought him away are the same ones that brought their child into the world; the same people who made sure that Will weathered labour and birth and came out of it unscathed. And despite scenting the tang of blood in the air, his mate’s heart still thumps steadily in his chest, and his eyes are as quick as ever.

Something does linger on the tip of his tongue, peering out between his lips. A mother’s eye looks down at their pup, finally settling in for a short rest as she gets her bearings on the world.

Hannibal purrs. A gentle encouragement. They’re alone now and as soon as Will’s body is able, they’ll slip away with their pup and go back to hiding. But for now, it’s just the two of them. And thorned words and death wishes can be aired. The corner of Will’s lip twitches. “If you’re desperate for a hunt,” he murmurs, dusting his fingertip on the button of their daughter’s nose, “if you want to bring a feast to our table to welcome her into the world, there was a matron who came in to see what all the fuss was about.”

Hannibal’s purr vibrates through the air. While he can be cruel and violent in his own right, Will is even more so. And he suspects being a mother will only hone that urge to snarl and draw blood. The doctor hums. “Oh?”

Something wicked flashes in Will’s eyes. “Alphas have no place in a labour ward; especially ones that cannot control themselves.” He doesn’t distort his voice, knowing that the pup in his arms might just cry at his own normal soothe slipping away.

A low rumbling growl claws up Hannibal’s throat. He manages to catch it behind his teeth, but Will’s shoulders shake in a tired laugh. He nudges his nose against his Alpha’s. “I’ll be out of action for a while,” he lulls, “because your daughter saw fit to not enter this world without a fight.” Will’s lips part, a flash of fangs catches Hannibal’s eye. They’re close, but not close enough to catch Hannibal’s lip as he leans forward for a kiss. Will nudges him back, just so. A wounded sort of noise crawls up Hannibal’s throat. “Will you hunt for me, husband? For our daughter?”

He’ll line their table with whatever they need. Their home, wherever it may be, will be flooded with food and gold and warmth. A deep-set primal urge coils tightly in his stomach. One that sets his blood ablaze and has his throat rumbling. Will has a talent for igniting his blood, careful with plying with just the right words and glances.

The world outside their room, outside this hospital bed, all seems to slip away. Hannibal’s throat bobs. “I will give you everything and more, my love.” He glances down at their pup, nestled in Will's arms. Reaching out, he lets the pup nab and hold on to his finger. Warmth blooms through him. He swallows through a lump in his throat. "Both of you."

[faedawayyy]

STEREOTYPING YOUR CHARACTERS ON THE BIG 6 I GAVE THEM

sylvia - maternal, nurturing and caring on the outside, praying for your downfall, ready to sell you to satan and rolling her eyes at your problems on the inside. 

lottie - a whimsical, creative, head-in-the-clouds type on the outside, who hides knives in her paint pots and is ready to stab you in the back on the inside. 

pippa - bold, passionate, energetic and fun-loving on the outside, crying at the slightest inconvenience on the inside.

kai - avant-garde, light academia and creative on the outside, pretentious literary snob with a hero complex on the inside. 

dixie - beautiful, seductive and driven on the outside, a coffin of female rage and jealousy on the inside. 

whitney - adventurous, particular and extroverted on the outside, looking for a million ways to cut you off before you get too attached on the inside. 

avery - popular, aesthetic and creative on the outside, is stalking on all of your  social media accounts on the inside.  

jay - successful, charismatic and charming on the outside, is a premature burnout with too much anxiety on the inside. 

nicolai - a rebellious, mysterious heat-throb on the outside, is crying and resisting the urge to purchase a comfort blanket on the inside. 

maddie - a dreamy, loving pixie on the outside, psychoanalysing everything you say so she can use it against you in the future on the inside. 

ally - adventure-loving, glittering mermaid on the outside, a self-destructive mess with no sense of commitment on the inside. 

youi - accomplished, precise and aesthetic on the outside, a raging control freak with a god-complex, silently judging you on the inside. 

bianca - flirtatious, confident and charming on the outside, forever self-loathing and constantly critiquing themselves on the inside.

daisy - happy, friendly and warm on the outside, romanticises every interaction with a stranger and plans 17 fictional weddings per day on the inside.