#while on the inside his heart is about to explode and his guts are twisted into a million knots

[blue-rose-soul]

How does Heaven react once the news of Alastor being Lucifer's son gets out in The Devil's Bastard AU and the Raised Together/Kid!Alastor branches? They certainly won't be happy that Lucifer has been going to earth in secret. Given Alastor isn't Hellborn I could also see them arguing for him to be killed or sealed in some way. "Nephilim of his sort were wiped out for a reason after all, right?"

Weeping, I started to answer this then accidentally refreshed the page and lost everything I'd typed. Lemme see if I can remember all my thoughts...

Their first major concern would not be Alastor himself. Not that another branch of the Morningstar bloodline isn't cause for alarm, but with Charlie as a precedent and Alastor's carnage restricted to Hell itself, he's a secondary concern to Hell's leadership. Their primary concern surrounds the fact that Lucifer broke the terms of his banishment and left Hell an unknown number of times without them being aware. While they watched him closely in the beginning of Hell, fearing he would attempt to retaliate against Heaven, in the three hundred thousand years since his Fall* they've clearly grown complacent. They're fearful of what kind of evil he may have sown on Earth, or if he's created any more yet undiscovered offspring who may be corrupting mortal souls. Could Lucifer's visits to the living world be the reason Earth is in such a miserable state?

(It's not, but of course they'd like an easy answer, one little problem they can snuff out that will fix everything forever.)

Sera orders Lucifer to meet with her in the Heaven Embassy and she brings along a couple of archangels* as backup to ensure he doesn't try anything. She wants Lucifer on the defensive. Lucifer does have some leverage though thanks to Adam's pettiness. For one, Heaven promising not to touch hellborn wasn't dependent on Lucifer adhering to his banishment. The exterminations came a long, long time after the Fall. Even if it was though, no one in Heaven, least of all Adam, even knew about Lucifer's excursions until after the final extermination. Adam knowingly choosing to target Charlie - not just a random hellborn but Lucifer's daughter who had absolutely zero ill will towards Heaven and only wanted to protect sinners - out of nothing more than malicious spite, gives Lucifer a leg to stand on when it comes to negotiating with Sera. She knew what Adam intended to do because he'd declared his intention to Charlie in front of Heaven's court, but she did nothing to stop him. On top of which, Sera also can't provide any evidence of Lucifer leading humans towards evil acts on Earth because he never did anything like that. Even in the rare cases of cults forming to worship him, they were done independently by humans who had no idea what Lucifer was really like and Lucifer himself had no contact with them. In other words, Sera in breaking her word to Lucifer caused more harm to him and his than Lucifer did to her and hers in breaking his banishment.

In the end, Lucifer is able to get Heaven to back down from trying to imprison him or Alastor. He agrees to increased surveillance - he hasn't gone back to Earth since his meeting with Nicaise anyway - and calls an end to the meeting.

And then as soon as he sets foot through the front doors of the hotel he promptly passes out from the stress overload.

(*Early modern humans started out in Africa approximately 300,000 years ago, so I'm timing Lucifer's Fall to align with that.)

(*I was going to say Michael at first since he seems like a popular Bible character to adapt into Hazbin Hotel fanon, but with him supposedly being the leader of Heaven's armies, I feel like he clashes with Adam as the leader of the exorcists. So now I have this headcanon that after Lucifer's banishment, Michael fell into a depression of his own. He spiraled deeper and deeper until ultimately he retired from his position which was then passed to Adam.)

[skyward-floored]

You’ll do scenes from Incredibles 2 as well? 👀 Ooh

Ok idk if you’ve done this one already (i don’t think you have but forgive me if I forgot) but I’d love to see the scene where Helen tricks Bob so she can put the glasses on him but with Time and Malon? That scene is just evil lol

Gotta hand it to Pixar they did whump and angst very well in their heyday XD

I’d forgotten about that scene!! (...I really need to watch the movie again). And you’re right they really did didn’t they XD I hadn’t done anything for this scene yet, and I got so excited writing it I did basically the whole thing 😂 So... I’m just gonna share the whole thing because, well... it’s fun, hehe.

I used Screenslaver here as a temporary name. I’ll likely change it for the long run, but nothing came to mind so that’s why it is what it is. Those darn hypno goggles...

...

“Malanya’s in trouble.”

Cia’s words rang in Time’s head as he finally reached the ship where Malon was, heart in his throat as he met with up Cia. That was the only information he’d been given over the phone, and if anything had happened to Malon... he’d never forgive himself.

“Fill me in,” Time demanded as he practically ran down the hallway, Cia jogging to keep up with him.

“Well, good news and bad news. We found her,” Cia began, and Time exhaled a little in relief. “She seems physically fine, but she’s had an encounter with the Screenslaver and she’s acting kind of strange.” They reached a large door, and Time’s stomach twisted as Cia opened it. “In here.”

Time walked inside the darkened room, lit only by the light from the hall behind, and a faint blue shine. He blinked as his eyes adjusted, and he looked around, hair standing up on his neck. He didn’t see Malon anywhere.

“Strange how?” he asked, then felt something slam into his cheek.

Time reeled backwards as pain exploded up his face, and he stared in shock at Malon, standing in the shadows with another blunted arrow already strung on her bow.

He leapt out of the way as she shot another arrow at his face, the fletching grazing his chin as he tried to regain his wits.

Malon, what on earth—

Malon put away her bow as he tried to figure out what to do, and began throwing some of the chairs by the wall at him, Time throwing up his arm to block them. He muscled his way towards her, ignoring the wood splintering into pieces around them, and Malon rolled out of his way as he jumped, aiming a series of kicks at him.

Time struggled to avoid her quick attacks, his wife’s moves faster than his own. He finally managed to grab her leg, and shoved her over, grabbing her shoulders and looking into her goggled eyes.

“Malon!” he gasped, trying to figure out what was wrong with her. “Malon, what are you—”

Malon kneed his gut, slipping out of his hold when his grip loosened. Time lunged in an effort to grab her again, but she nimbly twisted herself around, jumping on his back.

Time grabbed at her as she pulled her lasso from her hip, and before he could stop her she’d gotten part of it around his neck.

She pulled and Time choked, struggling to get his hands around the rope or somehow loosen her grip. Malon didn’t budge however, no matter how he struggled, and Time felt his vision start to blur as he struggled to get in any air.

He didn’t notice Cia, still standing in the doorway, put a hand inside her coat.

Malon’s grip loosened just a bit, and Time practically threw her off his back, heaving in a gasp as he somehow managed to grab her again.

“Malon, it’s me!” he shouted in a desperate voice, and her struggling paused, her shoulders lowering as she stared at him.

Time heaved for breath as she looked at him, and all of a sudden she surged forward and kissed him. After a moment of shock, Time returned it, relief making his knees weak.

Behind him, Cia quietly slid a pair of goggles across the floor, the device stopping next to Malon’s foot. Malon hooked the toe of her boot around it, then silently tossed them up, smoothly grabbing them all while she continued to kiss Time.

Then she pulled back and slammed the goggles over his face.

Time’s vision went white, swirling with squares and patterns that he couldn’t identify. Betrayal slammed into him as he recognized the beginnings of his mind being taken over, and he tried desperately to resist the way his thoughts began to blur.

He’d faced mind control before, but not against himself, not in such an intense way that bored into his vision and rapidly overtook his thoughts, twisting and squeezing and pulling him into its depths until all that was left was...

Was...

Malon...

Time stilled as his mind went blank, tension leaving his body.

Cia smiled, walking into the room between him and Malon. She looked at the two of them as they moved to stand at her sides, and her smile grew as she waved for them to follow her.

Both of them silently obeyed.

[remyfire]

❛ you can be rough. i can take it. ❜ - Beejleo!

Subtle Smut Starters I love you indulging me. Bless you :D I am a happy puddle rn

BJ says it for a lot of reasons, really. The anticipation that's gnawing at his bones. How Leo has been looking him over for the past ten seconds like he's a twelve-course meal. The twisting somersaults of his gut, more frantic than any gymnast he's ever seen, leaving him hovering in this space between hunger and nausea. There has to be more than the slow, edging tease that Leo likes to take him through, more than the waiting game they'll fall into when they're sitting on opposite sides of the fraternity house's living room while one by one their brothers trail off to bed. He doesn't know how much more he can take of the chess game. If he doesn't get slammed to the ground like a running back, he's gonna explode.

"You can be rough. I can take it."

But the moment the words slip out of BJ's mouth, Leo's eyes snap to his. He can practically hear them click into place. And as a very familiar smirk wanders its way across Leo's face, BJ's heart takes off.

"What do you think rough is?" Leo asks. His tone dances melodically over the words, brushing over BJ's skin like hot coals. "You think 'cuz you were a jock, you know the meaning of the word? Huh? Mr. Varsity-Track-and-Field?"

"C'mon, I'm not a kid," BJ blurts, then immediately regrets it. It doesn't matter that Leo's only a year or two older than BJ. Somehow he can still make him feel like he's twelve instead of a freshly minted eighteen. Leo chuckles, shaking his head, and it drags BJ until he toes the edge of humiliation. He rolls his eyes as he shoves at Leo's chest.

Leo seizes him by the jaw and slams him against the wall.

"Says the guy who can barely grow a fucking beard. Look at that baby face." As Leo turns him this way and that by the chin, BJ falls straight back into the ocean of desperation. The undertow's too strong. He tightens his grip on Leo's hem, seeking some kind of stability so he won't drown. But when Leo pats him firmly on the cheek—hard enough to sting—BJ's knees almost buckle all the same. "So sweet. So naive."

It's not the first time that BJ's felt the entire galaxy hold its breath for a moment, this suffocating ache in his chest. It's not quite anger. It's a prelude to it. An appetizer. As the air crackles inside his ribs, he waits to see if this is the day the frustration finally grabs hold of him and uses his body to put Leo Bardonaro back in his place. He's starting to think neither of them would mind. But just as he's flirting with the idea, Leo thumbs over BJ's bottom lip and leaves the sensitive skin branded by his touch.

"Then again," Leo purrs, "you are the little slut who got hard during your hazing."

God, what comes next? If BJ pushes for more, will Leo deny him? Leo never seems to need BJ as much as BJ needs him. He can shrug off so much of his own desire if it means that he has BJ miserably hard and wanting. "Leo..." His hand scales his slim waist higher and higher until he palms his ribs. "Please."

Leo tilts his head. "Please what?"

He doesn't fucking know. A creature lives in that crackling chasm right beside his heart, something fitful and hungry, and he's not yet learned the language to describe what it needs to be satisfied. He has to pivot instead. "Listen, if you're so sure I can't handle whatever you've got to give me, why don't you prove it?"

"Oh, I never said you couldn't handle it." Like a spider dangling from a silk thread right above its prey, Leo holds himself still, fingers bruising his jaw, thumb resting gently on his lips, a contradiction in terms. But when BJ catches Leo's thumb between his teeth, something breaks through. Sparks burst from Leo's eyes and shower BJ in heat. "Y'know what they say, Beej, college is all about new experiences."

When Leo yanks him by the jaw, his fingers could slip off BJ's skin and leave him free. They could, at least, if BJ didn't immediately yield to the command, if he didn't let himself be pulled in. Too many things happen in rapid succession—he's twisted around, his arm's pinned behind him, he's shoved, his cheek scrapes the wall—and when Leo exhales hotly against his scalp, BJ throws his head back with a weak groan.

"This isn't rough," Leo murmurs raggedly as he wraps his arm around BJ's shoulders. "Not really. But you're gonna scream for me anyway."

BJ's never been physically restrained, never experienced so much as a facsimile of it, but he finds himself grabbing another fistful of Leo's shirt so he remembers not to escape. He wants it, he wants it, wants to know what it's like to be completely under somebody else's control. Shocky breaths pulse out of BJ arrhythmically while Leo gropes him through his trousers. "Fuck... Y-You're not..." There's no response besides how Leo's other fingers pop open two of BJ's shirt buttons, then slither beneath the fabric and along his undershirt until they find the bare skin stretched taut over his collarbone. "You're not gonna hold back forever, are you?"

An almost soundless chuckle tickles his hair. "Oh, pretty boy, I'm gonna ruin you."

As BJ arches into his touch, he wonders not for the first time how Leo became so confident in handling a man like this. It's more than just a fella who learned how to suck somebody off in a fraternity house. He doesn't fumble as he works at BJ's belt, at his button fly, and when BJ instinctively spasms at the smooth slide of those digits easing inside of his briefs, Leo simply tightens the arm around his shoulders and keeps him right where he wants him. They both know BJ is physically stronger but Leo doesn't seem to be the least bit bothered by it. And sure, maybe he's bluffing about ruining BJ one day—maybe he's figuring it out as they go along too—but with each passing second, BJ doubts it more and more. Someone taught Leo everything that he knows, and for whatever reason, Leo's just as happy to pass it along.

Leo grabs BJ's cock none too gently and gives it such a sharp tug that the drag of skin on skin singes him. "H-Hey, c'mon," BJ mumbles, wincing, his body seizing up as Leo yanks again, again. "At least lemme spit in your—" A white-hot light explodes inside him as Leo sinks his teeth into BJ's throat. "Fuck!" He's shocked he's not spewing blood from his carotid.

The growl rattles straight through his veins, snatching away his capacity for intelligent thought. There's nothing but Leo, just him and the terrifying rush of pleasure-pain that BJ's fighting somehow to make sense of. It's like... Jesus, it's like a savage muscle strain that tears through the fibers in his thigh with jagged fangs when he's got the finish line in his sights, when he has a rival so hot on his heels that he could spit on BJ. When he thrashes like a mouse caught in a cat's jaws, Leo digs his nails into BJ's shoulder, and as he forms the three stabbing points of the most demented scalene triangle, the first endorphins overtake BJ.

Shit, shit, he can't stop now, can't keep himself from trying to fuck into Leo's fist while he whines. BJ gets his free arm flat against the wall, just something to rest on, but the moment he finds it, he's driven to bite it too, muffling the sounds he never planned to make—barely thought he was capable of producing. Something about Leo's instant sweet hum is like praise to him. Satisfaction. It creates a feedback loop where BJ's cock finally dribbles enough slickness that the handjob melts into a glide, smooth as a dream, this fanfare that's supported by the nails scraping welts over his chest and the line of bruises being drawn down his neck and the copper-flavored warning from the thin skin under BJ's tongue, growing and growing, building and building, never fucking ending, how the fuck do people not know this kind of thing is possible? This cocktail of sugar and spice that's turning his Stanford premed brain into nothing but exclamation points?

When Leo lifts his head and sucks in a deep breath, like he's been holding it, he curves his hand around BJ's throat to hold him still, and the press of his thumb against that first raw hickey loops itself around the weight that just barely restricts his ability to inhale, and it's this— It's more than— It's everything. An asteroid slamming into him. Shockwaves straight into his pelvis.

He doesn't realize he's shouting until Leo muffles him with his palm.

He's so overwhelmed by it all that his orgasm is practically an afterthought. It's like it's not even the ultimate endpoint. And that's terrifying in and of itself, really, because what the hell is supposed to come after the wave of pleasure breaks? BJ's still quivering in the wake of it but unable to move. To speak. Is there more pain? Did he do it right? God, he didn't do anything at all, merely stood here and took it. What if that wasn't the correct response?

He's already on the verge of hyperventilating—zero to sixty in half a second flat—when Leo turns him around, pushes him flat against the wall, and...kisses him.

They don't kiss. Leo kisses whoever his flavor of the month is when she's visiting campus. BJ kisses Peggy, of course, because he can't imagine a world in existence where he would ever want to stop kissing Peg, and especially in these treacherously extended stretches of time where they're long-distance while in college. Kisses are for their potential futures, not the temporary cure for loneliness.

And yet Leo's soft lips are brushing over BJ's all the same, tiny movements that ratchet his tension back down inch by inch until he can barely keep himself on his feet. And he never wants it to end.

"C'mere, c'mere," Leo whispers between smooches, trying to coax BJ toward the lumpy bed.

Even through the fog, BJ can feel his hardness digging into his thigh. He knows what that means. Knows what Leo needs too. But when his barely responsive fingers goof up the effort to undo Leo's belt, the amused click of Leo's tongue between his teeth makes BJ scowl. "Lemme do it."

"That's for later, stupid." A harder yank makes BJ give up his mission, instead trailing after Leo like a puppy. "I gotta check you out first."

"When later?" BJ demands through a slurring tongue.

"When I say so. Christ." Leo drags BJ onto the bed with him. "You're so precious when you're stubborn." He bullies the pillow so he can sit against the wall, then lets BJ collapse bonelessly on his chest.

As much as BJ wants to get his hands on Leo—see this through to the end—he has to admit that his whole body is shimmering anywhere that they're touching. He seems to have full license to nuzzle the soft, fine material of Leo's shirt and paw at it all he wants as long as he lets Leo forcibly tip his head to the side so he can examine BJ's throat, then pull back his neckline and thumb near the welts he left there.

Either seconds or hours later, Leo finally sighs. "All right, you'll live. Didn't break the skin anywhere."

BJ absently puzzles through whether that's a good thing or not. "You could've."

"Oh, I will, Beej. Trust me." Long fingers slide through BJ's hair and fill his head with cotton. "I know you can take it."

Maybe one day, BJ will figure out why those words are somehow sweeter than any adulation he's ever received. But right now they make him grin and bury his face in Leo's neck where nothing exists but Leo and the gentle scratches he's leaving on BJ's scalp.

[paracosm-draw]

Promptober Day 18 - Cheating ☄️

Tags : hurt/no comfort, I'm sorry for this one

I'm doing a roadtrip this week-end so I'm not sure I'm be able to post something but I will try my best 🫶🏻

~

Obi-Wan was almost trembling with impatience, blood rushing through his veins in the same way as before a battle, heart racing in anticipation. 

Externally, the only thing betraying his eagerness was the way his fingers curled and uncurled on the table in front of him, contrasting with the impassivity of his face. 

Biting his tongue, he forces himself not to ask for the fifth time when they were going to land on Coruscant, exactly. He knows there’s not long to wait because he can see the planet through the windshield of the ship but it's still too long. 

To distract himself, he thinks about his next step when he will finally be free from his duty, meaning after attending the mission debrief, submitting his report and meeting with the Council. He wishes he could skip all that to go directly to the interesting part. To the part he was obsessing over for more than two weeks now. The one making his guts twist in excitation and apprehension right now. 

It still takes half an hour for the ship to land on the authorized platform, and two more hours for Obi-Wan to be released from his obligations. 

When he's finally done with his Jedi responsabilities, he goes directly to his quarters to take a shower and change his dirty clothes. He gives his beard a little trim while he’s at it, puts some moisturizing cream on his dry skin and styles his hair with a bit of product, just enough to make them fall like he wants them to. He hesitates when his eyes fall on his bottle of cologne, wondering if it’s too much, too obvious. But then he decides than smelling good was never going to be too much so he spreads a tiny bit under his jaw and in the inside of his wrists before checking himself in the mirror. 

The first thing that strikes him is the way he seems to glow, almost embarassingly so. His cheeks wear a faint blush, lips curled in a smile he can’t seem to help, eyes clearer than ever. He doesn’t look like he’s back from a month and a half long mission, he rather looks like an enamored teenager ready to go on his first date. Maybe that’s what he is right now, even though he’s far from being a teenager anymore. 

It’s been a while since he felt like that, buzzing all day with a pleasant energy that makes his stomach flutter and his steps lighter. He catches himself daydreaming in the middle of meetings or smiling for no reason when memories swirl back to the edges of his consciousness. 

Well, not for no reason. 

The reason has deep blue eyes and thick eyelashes, bronzed skin and golden curls and the simple fact of thinking about him makes Obi-Wan’s heart beat faster.

“You’re ridiculous.” He chuckles to his reflection, not without fondness. “Look at yourself.” 

It doesn’t take a lot of time to choose an outfit as he doesn’t own a lot of clothes. He decides on comfortable but fitting soft brown pants and a beige turtleneck he knows suits him well. The idea of putting effort into the way he’s dressing makes him blush slightly.

For months now, his clothes were either practical or tactical, worn for a specific purpose most of the time and related with his survival. Nobody had the luxury of dressing up in times of war so putting on nice clothes for a specific occasion felt… special. 

Anakin already told him he liked the way he dressed on the rare occasions they saw each other in clothes other than their Jedi apparel or general armors. 

His mind wanders to him then, to his precious golden boy and the way he came to him two weeks ago in the middle of the night, all clumsy touches and hesitant words, his warmth surrounding him as he indulged Obi-Wan’s older and most shameful desires. 

At the moment he felt like his heart was gonna explode with the strength of his long-since repressed feelings, and two weeks later, as he prepares to go see him again, it still feels the same. 

Anakin doesn't know he’s here. It's supposed to be a surprise. 

The young man had to come back to Coruscant earlier by demand of the Chancellor, leaving Obi-Wan on the front line with a heart full of delight and a head full of questions. And now he's back to confront all of them. 

On his way to Anakin’s quarters, Obi-Wan wonders if the boy will be as delighted to see him as he is. If he will hold him and kiss him and touch him like he did in the middle of all the horrors, shielding him from reality with the warmth of his skin and the softness of his mouth. 

Obi-Wan cannot wait to press his lips against that mouth again. He’s been waiting for years, drowning in guilt and pining in the shadows, questioning his faith and morals during endless nights, but always ready to fall at the second Anakin would lay his eyes on him and consider him as more than his Master. 

He knows it’s wrong, but nothing matters when Anakin lays his body on his and holds him like he wants to crawl inside of his chest, when his fingers pluck pleasure from the depths of him, when his teeth sink into his flesh to make him his. These are the only moments Obi-Wan truly feels alive. 

He's turning at the angle of Anakin’s corridor when he sees two figures at the end of it, speaking quietly in front of his door. Slowing down, Obi-Wan recognizes Naboo’s splendor in Senator Amidala’s complicated dress before he can see her face. 

Anakin is leaning towards her, his back to Obi-Wan, completely invading her personal space which doesn’t seem to bother her at all. On the contrary, she lifts her arms to cradle Anakin’s face with a warm smile, whispering something he can't hear from where he is. 

Something twists in Obi-Wan’s guts. It’s not the way they’re supposed to act with each other. There’s something wrong. Their closeness is...  inappropriate. Intimate. 

Anakin laughs then, a soft, carefree little thing that makes Obi-Wan’s heart clench painfully when he realizes he doesn’t know when was the last time he heard him laugh at all. He doesn’t know how to react, body frozen in the semi-obscurity of the corridor, feeling like he's watching something he’s not supposed to see. 

Then Senator Amidala slides her fingers in Anakin’s curls and the boy bends reverently to her touch. When their lips join, Obi-Wan feels like he’s being pierced all the way through his heart by a lightsaber. 

The pain is indescribable, matching the intensity of his hope and feelings, all of them crumbling to ashes right in front of his eyes. He can't breath, suddenly. 

He's about to turn back when he hears a voice calling after him. A soft, feminine voice he knows, coming from a person he used to cherish as a friend. 

“Obi-Wan ? What a surprise ! Anakin told me you were supposed to come back next week.” 

The Jedi blinks and swallows difficultly around the lump forming in his throat. He has to summon all of his self-control to force his legs to obey and carry him to them when he only wants to run away in the opposite direction. 

“Yeah.” He manages to smile, heart beating painfully into his chest. “It’s a surprise for me too.” 

He can’t help but notice that they split away, returning to a reasonable distance from each other even though both of their cheeks were still faintly flushed pink. He can't find the strength to look at Anakin and it seems that the boy is not able to look at him either. There’s an awkward tension emanating from him in the Force, a mix of fear and shame that confirms Obi-Wan that he knew perfectly what he was doing. 

“I’m glad you’re home safe.” Padme smiles gently at him, oblivious of the storm raging inside of his mind and of the agony of his bleeding heart. “I was just about to propose a diner, would you like to join ?” 

“I can’t.” Obi-Wan answers more sharply than intended. “I- I still have my report to fill and I'm quite exhausted but thank you for asking.” 

He can feel that Anakin doesn't believe a single word coming from his mouth but he stays silent. Obi-Wan dares him to intervene. 

“I understand.” Padme says kindly. “I hope you'll get to have a restorative rest, Master Kenobi.” 

“Thank you.” Obi-Wan manages despite his tight throat. “I’m going to leave you now. Have a nice evening.” 

Without waiting for an answer he turns on his heels and makes his way back to his quarters, heart beating madly into his ears, vision darkening on the corners. 

None of this makes sense. 

Two weeks ago he was nestled into Anakin’s warm and promising embrace, sharing secrets and sweet nothings and now… Now he realizes that all of it was a lie. 

He doesn’t understand why Anakin would play with him like that. Why he would come to him to abandon him later with such cruelty. 

“Obi-Wan ! Obi-Wan, wait !” 

Quick footsteps echoe behind him when Obi-Wan is almost to his door. He feels his chest tighten even more and keeps his eyes on the ground. 

“Please… I- I can explain.” 

Obi-Wan stops in front of his door, feeling Anakin’s warmth hovering behind his back, close enough to burn. 

“Why would I listen to a single word you say ?” He asks quietly, pulling his card out to unlock his door. 

“I- Can we- Can we talk inside ?” Anakin whispers. 

“I don't think so.” Obi-Wan replies, still refusing to look at him. “If you have something to tell me, do it now.” 

Anakin swallows audibly, staying where he is behind Obi-Wan’s back. The older Jedi can feel his emotions coming in waves through their bond ; he snaps it shut. 

“I… Listen, it’s- It’s complicated.” Anakin sighs. “Padme and I, we’re…” 

“I understood that part by myself.” Obi-Wan interrupts him curtly. 

“That’s not…” Anakin lets out a frustrated sound. “We’re married.” 

Obi-Wan didn’t think he could fall any lower but apparently Anakin is full of surprises. What was another rule to break when he was already defiling everything he was supposed to believe in ? 

“Great.” He breathes out. “I guess we don’t have anything to discuss, then.” 

“Wait, please…” Anakin pleads, reaching out to grab his wrist. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

Tearing his hand out of Anakin’s hold, Obi-Wan unlock his door and rushes in without letting him the time to do anything. When the door closes, he presses his back again, slowly sliding to the floor with the sensation of suffocating. 

He can still feel Anakin on the other side. A part of him wants him gone and the other, desperate one…  The other one is the one he has to kill in order to survive this. 

Unless Anakin already did it for him. 

[loopielupie]

Whumptober Day 6 - Recording

Passing through a GN barrier is something Lockon has mostly grown used to, but there is sometimes just a little bit strange or, maybe, miraculous, about seeing nothing but forest and then suddenly, out of nowhere, the threshold is crossed and his gundam is just there. Today, the sight of Dynames isn’t as alluring as the forest around him, but Lockon climbs its bent leg dutifully anyway and pops the cockpit open, a greeting for Haro dying on his lips when the little robot bounces in its spot, already speaking before Lockon’s even set foot inside:

“Lockon. Message. Lockon. Message.”

“Hello to you too, Haro buddy,” he chuckles, dropping into the seat and taking note of the flashing message icon on his loadout. “What’s-”

“Message. Hurry. Message. Hurry.” Haro interrupts him and he stops, something souring in his stomach. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Haro was…anxious. He clicks on the message and an audio file opens. Initially there’s nothing but steady breathing filling the cockpit and a quiet hiss, maybe…is it, wind? Rain?

That sourness in his stomach twists into a gut instinct and he knows who’s going to speak before he even says anything.

“Being followed…”

Setsuna.

“Two, maybe three. Going to try and lose them.”

Stomach dropping, Lockon yanks his phone from his pocket and calls him, swiping his bangs back from his face as it starts to ring. And then keeps ringing. The message has gone quiet again but Lockon keeps one ear on it while his other is occupied with the still unconnected call.

“C’mon, c’mon. Pick up the phone, Setsuna.”

Five rings. His knee starts bouncing agitatedly on the sixth; Setsuna never takes this long to answer.

You’ve reached Kamal Ma-”

Lockon hangs up with a frustrated noise and reaches for the comms panel. He hasn’t reached the end of the recording yet but he knows it’s not going to end well. He’s already late to this, he can’t afford any more wasted time. Compressing the recording, he attaches it alongside a quick coded message and asks Haro to send it off to the Ptolemy. He hits play on Setsuna’s message again; listening to the sounds of breathing and footsteps mixed with the occasional vehicle or bystander in the background.

“Definitely 3; all men. Average height, all HRL.”

He startles at Setsuna’s sudden interjection and how normal his tone is while Lockon can feel a lump constricting his own throat as the recording returns to background noise. He watches the time tick up on the screen for an agonising 6 minutes when suddenly there’s a quiet gasp and the footsteps get louder and faster: running, Setsuna must be running. That realisation sends fear through Lockon even before Setsuna speaks again:

“Got turned around. In an emptier part of town now, near the Industrial park by the river.”

Lockon’s heart drops. It’s not surprising that Setsuna might get lost in a place he’s never been to. He tries not to think about what that delay may have cost them, cost him.

“C’mon, Setsuna,” Lockon whispers, jaw clenched tightly as he fists the material of his civilian trousers. His heart is in his throat now but drops into his shoes at a sudden winded grunt.

“What do you want? Why are you chasing me?”

Lockon knows the fear in Setsuna’s voice is acting, he’s seen the kid lay it on to get out of situations before, but it doesn’t stop the rush of nausea. If his pursuers answer, Lockon doesn’t hear it and suddenly the recording explodes with crackles, shouts and curses overlaid with the telltale sounds of a scuffle. A harsh voice far too close to the comms unit spits something venomous about a “princess” that Lockon can’t make out but what does come through clearly is Setsuna’s sharp cry of pain and the sound of something heavy hitting the ground.

“Shit,” Lockon spits into the ensuing quiet, listening to the murmur of conversation before everything cuts off with an abrupt crack and a burst of static.

Lockon swallows thickly, his own breathing loud in the small space of his cockpit. He throws it open for air and slumps back in his seat, scrubbing aching, trembling fingers down his face.

“Shit.”

[whatsonmedia]

Wednesday Wisdom:Top 5 Best Norman Mailer Books

Wednesday Wisdom celebrates Norman Mailer’s birthday on January 31 by delving into his top 5 best books. “The Naked and the Dead” exposes the raw reality of World War II, while “The Armies of the Night” navigates the chaos of the 1967 anti-war march. “An American Dream” offers a dark exploration of success, “The Fight” thrusts you into the boxing ring, and “The Executioner’s Song” unveils the twisted mind of a murderer. These powerful narratives redefine literature, challenging readers to confront humanity’s darkest corners.

The Naked and the Dead

Norman Mailer’s “The Naked and the Dead” plunges into World War II, stripping soldiers bare. No heroes, just men like you and me. Fear, exhaustion, and death cling to them like sweat. They fight on a Pacific island, jungle a suffocating enemy. Brutal battles shatter minds, brotherhood blooms in blood. Mailer doesn’t flinch, showing war’s raw ugliness and heartbreaking humanity. It’s a gut punch, forcing you to face what men become when stripped naked by battle. Read it, but be warned: It’s a powerful, unforgettable journey.

The Armies of the Night

“The Armies of the Night” is a wild ride through the 1967 anti-war march on Washington. Mailer throws himself headfirst into the chaos, mixing personal doubts with vivid portraits of hippies, politicians, and cops. He’s not afraid to ruffle feathers, questioning everyone from war protestors to himself. It’s messy, opinionated, and honest. You won’t agree with everything, but you’ll be glued to the page as Mailer wrestles with the soul of America in a time of upheaval. It’s history as a rollercoaster, leaving you breathless and maybe a little changed.

 An American Dream

 Mailer’s “American Dream” takes you on a wild ride with Stephen Rojack, a war hero turned TV star with a dark side. He’s got money, fame, women, but nothing satisfies him. Driven by rage and booze, he spirals through murder, paranoia, and existential crises. Prepare for shocking twists, mind-bending metaphors, and a brutal look at the dark side of the American dream. It’s not for everyone, but if you like gritty, disturbing reads, buckle up!

The Fight

“The Fight” throws you into the ring with Cassius Clay (later Muhammad Ali) – not just the champ, but a young man fighting for respect in a racist America. Mailer’s words crackle with energy, like punches landing. You sweat with Clay in training, feel the fear and fury before the big fight. No fancy footwork, just raw emotion and power. It’s a story about beating the odds, both inside and outside the ring. Not just a boxing match, but a battle for the soul of a nation.

The Executioner’s Song

Norman Mailer’s “The Executioner’s Song” takes you inside the twisted mind of Gary Gilmore, the first man executed in America after a decade. It’s not a pretty journey. Mailer avoids fancy words, mimicking Gilmore’s rough voice, telling the story through interviews and flashbacks. You feel the ache of his lost dreams, the anger that explodes into murder. But Gilmore’s not a hero, just a flawed man drawn to violence. Mailer doesn’t judge, just lays bare the brutal truth. It’s a tough read, but unforgettable. Makes you question justice, free will, and what it means to choose death. Not for the faint of heart, but a powerful look at a dark chapter in American history.

[ayekittyk4t]

would you end your night with me? | echoes of silence

♱ Desc: On a cold winter night, a argument between you and your loving boyfriend occurs. Storming out in anger, he leaves you looking for him in the dark of the evening and in the arms of his best friend.

♱ Pairing: Ken “Draken” Ryuuguji x AFAB Reader, Manjiro “Mikey” Sano x AFAB Reader

♱ Content Warnings: Unestablished relationship (with draken), cheating, unprotected sex, petnames, unwanted marking, lots of crying, cream-pie, manhandling (?), mentions of vomiting but not actually, timeskip! ken & mikey

♱ Word Count: 1630

a/n so excited to post the first fic of my weeknd collection! i will be releasing more one shots and even short series. all will some how correlate to lyrics to my favorite songs by the weeknd:)))) echoes of silence is the first! hope u enjoy.

wattpad | ao3

It was wrong.

Every breath, movement, word. All of it was wrong. Heart aching with each second spent without him and in the warmth of another man. To lay in bed with another man, then come home and do the same with him. Let another man touch you in ways only your boyfriend should. And with all he’s given and provided you, you couldn’t help but chase for more. All the love you were showered with. An endless cascade of affection, and you sink your fangs into another man. A man he called his friend.

You were a terrible person.

Mikey gave you all you ever wanted in life. He was the perfect boyfriend that you wished for since your youth. One that’d constantly reassure you that his love for you exists through verbally and physically, even give you every materialistic thing in the world because that’s how much love he has for you. Putting in the time for you with his busy work life too, and protecting you from all the harm it could cause you, You were loved and cared for, what else was there that you needed? A picture perfect relationship every couple wished to have. He put all the effort he could into you, and after every hardship and mountain he’d climb for his love, you found yourself caught in the worst outcome of them all.

It was all so sudden. An argument leading to Mikey storming out the front door, leaving you in tears and a heaving chest. You couldn’t recall what the argument was about, but it’d been something to really set him off. Missed call after another, you searched for him in the cold night. Brisk air nipped your skin as you stood on the steps of your last location in the search for your boyfriend, his best friend's house.

A bell jingled above you when the door swung open. Ken peered down to you, clad in a white tee and basketball shorts. He stared deep into your sad, puffy eyes. Asking for your boyfriend, he responded with telling you he didn’t know where Mikey had gone. A loud sigh left your wet lips, thanking him for his help, you turned to leave. His heart throbbed for you, a pounding hitting his chest and his consonance telling him to offer you comfort. Inviting you inside to escape the frost of the cool winter evening, he’d expected nothing from your interaction. But the unexpected seemed to always occur for him.

A warm hand on your cheek, wiping hot tears and comforting you while you expressed your feelings about the fight. Pulling him into a hug, Ken didn’t expect you to plant a kiss on his lips, nor did he believe he’d ever return that sweet, sweet kiss back. Kisses lead to touches, touches lead to sex. Not once did the thought of your boyfriend at home slip past your mind. Not when Ken’s rough hands roamed every inch of your body, deep thrusts hitting the softest spots inside you, lips never leaving yours.

That was until you returned home.

Seeing Mikey sleeping on the couch sent swords through your heart. Your lungs felt full, close to exploding in your body. Stomach churning from the repulsion of your own stupid actions. Disgusting bile rose up your throat. You swallowed hard when he twisted and turned in his sleep, realizing you didn’t have the guts to ever confess your adultery. And maybe it was worse than just saying the truth now and then, but with the little morals you had left, you crawled and laid on his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He hummed at your words, the vibration of it sending shivers down your spine and causing the hairs on your skin to stand. The regret and dread of your mistake clawed into your skin. Ripping and tearing, leaving you shaking and reaching for the scraps you had left. There was none, just bone, muscles and tissue. Cartilage leaving you from falling apart.

“Don’t apologize,” Mikey smoothes the wrinkles on your top. The ones made by your lustful act minutes ago, “Don’t you fuckin’ apologize when Im the one who left you here alone. I won’t ever, ever pull that shit again. I promise you that, Baby.” He pulls your face close to his, hands cupping and messages your skin, “I fuckin’ love you.”

Cheeks peppered in kisses, and body tight in his grasp, you continued to lay in the pools of your regret. You’re drowning in it, gasping for air and getting absolutely nothing.

“I love you too, Mikey.”

You were a coward.

-

None of it was ever supposed to happen.

The first time was a mistake, a tear in your relationship with Mikey ripped its way between you two because of it. Even without the knowledge of your unfaithfulness, a distance was formed between the two of you. A sea between two islands that you personally made because of the guilt you felt from sleeping with Ken. And the distance caused the arguments, Mikey leaving you alone in tears like he did before and promised he wouldn’t do it again.

With the continued cycle between you and Mikey, a new one between you and Ken grew.

One time turned into two, two turned into three. Almost after every bump in your relationship with Mikey, you’d call Ken, and run into his arms, finding that comfort he wrapped you in that one winter evening. And even after every night full of sex and unkept promises of telling you’re boyfriend of your infedelity, you’d wander back to Mikey. Embracing him in the longest and tightest hugs you’d ever given and person, and apologize. You’d apologize weeping this time, staining his shirt with your tears, and the same conversation from before would repeat.

It was a never ending revolution. The lies flourished after another, weight on your shoulders started to sink you into the ground. This couldn’t continue anymore.

“Stay.” Ken let’s out softly with a breathy chuckle, looking up at your body as your bounce on his cock. He worshiped you, wanting to give you his all and all the world could offer. There was no need for that when Mikey already did all of it.

His big hands settle at your hips when you continue your assault, freshly manicured fingernails digging into his skin, face in the crook of his neck. You suck his skin, leaving deep purple bruises into his fair skin. His length filled you in a different ways your boyfriends did. His hands were scarred and rugged on your virgin skin.

Your actions make him yearn to do the same to you. But as much as he wanted to, he knew that he couldn’t kiss every inch of your perfect and untouched skin like he wanted to. His marks would claim you as his. No one else’s. And in moments like the ones where your cunt worked wonders on his throbbing cock, he wanted you as his and only his for eternity. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t possible, wishing into the stars that maybe he was wrong.

Whimpers turn into melodies in his ears when you pull him into a kiss. Your hands are in his hair, keeping his lips close to yours. Teeth clash and tongues message each other. Indigo and deep magenta flowers bloom underneath the pads of his fingers as he moves your hips faster on his cock. Your walls are squeezing him in the most breathtaking way possible.

“K-ken.” You moan out his name, “Close. ‘m so close.” Words slurring and mumbling while your lips still graze his.

“Fuck,” There’s a pause between his deep growl, “Let help you out, Doll.”

You're nodding your head when he throws you onto your back. He attacks your cunt while cold sheets soothe your muscles. Ken rises to watch the sight below him, hands on the small of your back, lifting your hips to meet his. Your tits bounce with every harsh thrust into your pussy. As you reach the peak of your night, he feels you leaking and tightening with every move.

Moans and cries leave your mouth when his cock hits your sensitive g-spot. A symphony finds his ears when you finally gush around his length. Your cum dripping and making a mess onto your thighs and Kens stomach.

He’s close too, bringing his head between your bouncing breasts and kisses the valley. You’re lost while coming down, but when his hot tongue wraps around your nipple and tugs, you squirm in his grasp.

“K-ken!” You’re too weak to shout, but it’s your best attempt to do so. He couldn’t leave bites on you, you just wouldn’t let him. And when marks rises to the surface of your skin, you give up squirming and accept it.

“Stay.” He stumbles over his words, “Just stay for the night.” His confession leaves tears welling in your waterline, body limp and sore from the sex. Spurts of hot cum fill your cunt when Ken finally reaches his peak. He thrusts his cum into your cunt, watching the white ring grow around his cock. Twitching when he’s finally satisfied, he licks his lips. “End your night with me.”

Ken's dark hair tickles your cheeks as he hovers over you, his large hands soothing your thighs and arms. A wet trail of saliva on your breast is left by him as he abandons it to meet your eyes. The spot where he marked you burns then cools down with air hitting it. Onyx eyes meet yours, thumb playing with your bottom lip. A smile tattoos onto his lips looking down at you while his chest rises from his post orgasm bliss.

The end to this cycle started now.

“Mikey and I are getting married.”

[ameliora-j]

before i fell // dm x reader

words: 2.8k

warnings: angst, talk of a breakup, mention of loss of virginity, mention of not eating, mention of not sleeping, pansy is kinda ooc and so is draco, the slytherins are assholes

a/n: i used a lot of olivia rodrigo lyrics bc i listened to SOUR while writing lol. lmk if i should add other warnings and happy reading babies!

you would be cliche and say that you fell in love the way that you fall asleep. slowly and then all at once. but you couldn’t because you didn’t. it wasn’t a john green novel and you weren’t hazel grace lancaster. falling in love wasn’t simple, and that description of it truly… didn’t describe anything. falling in love was more complicated than that. there were more layers to it than that. falling in love was rather… quick and unexpected. unexpected like snow in the middle of march. or rain when there’s not a cloud in sight. quick like waiting months for an event and finally when the time comes, it feels like you blinked and then it was over.

falling in love with draco malfoy was all of these things and more. falling in love with draco malfoy brought upon more layers than that. falling in love with draco malfoy brought pain. not just any kind of pain, no… horrible, heart wrenching, gut twisting pain. pain that began by bubbling itself in your chest right at the center of your heart, then slowly but surely worked it’s way outwards. encapsulating your entire body and making every inch of your body ache. pain like when you get attached to a character and the author kills them off. pain like when you finish your favorite book and you realize that you’re not truly in that universe and none of that actually happened. pain like when you’re two hours, fifteen minutes, and twelve seconds into avengers: infinity war and peter parker says “mr. stark, i don’t feel so good.” pain that you’ve never felt. pain that can’t be described. pain that you felt for days. pain.

you thought it was strange when the platinum blonde slytherin sought you out. he came to you one day while you sat silently at the black lake. you were alone, but only because you liked to be. you had friends of course, many actually, but you chose to be alone. the black lake was your place of solace. then along came draco. he sat beside you, a good distance away, but his presence was known. you looked to him for an explanation but he offered none. just smiled at you and turned to his notes, so you did the same. the second time he came, he sat closer, but still in silence. the third time is when he struck up conversation.

“yln, yeah?” he questioned.

“yn, actually. but yes, yn yln. and you’re draco malfoy?” you asked.

“i am,” he smirked at your knowledge of his name and then you returned to your studying. after that, the two of you talked every time he came and sat with you. short discussions about the weather or the potions assignment. you don’t know when, but soon they became longer. discussions of your day and your family. your interests and how you got your name. how you loved the rain and the stars and how you loved hogwarts, but you often missed home. draco knew you inside and out and you knew him—and before long, you called the tall, skinny blonde your boyfriend.

you walked the halls of hogwarts together, hand in hand. draco walked haughtily with a hard scowl and you with a bright smile. while you walked cheerfully and waved to your friends and to first years while draco glared at anyone who dared look at the two of you. he took you to parties in the slytherin common room and you wore his jersey proudly at quidditch games, even when he played against your house. he bought you lavish gifts at all of your trips to hogsmeade and he showered you in kisses, praise, and affection. you were whole heartedly smitten with the sole heir to the malfoy fortune.

it was one fateful day in the common room when your heart absolutely exploded. that was the day you knew that you fell in love with draco malfoy. you had been a thing for about two, going on three, months. you were sitting in the slytherin common room, reading in silence when he asked. you were pressed against his chest and he pressed a soft kiss to your head. “‘ve been meaning to ask you something,” he murmured gently. this caused you to close the book and turn your full attention to him. “want you to wear this,” he said, holding out a ring. “it’s the malfoy family crest.”

your stomach and your heart exploded into billions of butterflies and you launched yourself forward, straight into his chest. millions of emotions overcame you as you squeezed his neck as tight as possible. you nodded into his neck as a few stray tears fell. he kissed your head repeatedly as he slid the ring onto your finger before pressing his lips to your’s gently. you giggled excitedly as you stared down at the ring on your finger. “do you like it?” he asked you.

“i love it, dray. i love you. thank you s’much,” you confessed for the first time as you cuddled back into his chest. you don’t know what it was that made the blonde boy seek you out, but you’re glad he did. if only you knew the true nature of his intentions. but alas, you were oblivious.

it was the beginning of the school year, on the train to hogwarts. in the compartment of what was labeled as “the slytherin squad.” there sat theo nott, pansy parkinson, blaise zabini, and—your now boyfriend—draco malfoy.

they were all sitting around, taking the piss out of draco for all of his past failed relationships when it was brought up. “i’ll bet malfoy couldn’t get a girl to fall in love with him if he paid her,” theo spoke.

“i’ll take that bet,” draco countered.

“alright. but we get to pick the girl,” blaise decided.

“what?” pansy asked as theo began to look around the compartment. it was a few minutes before he found the victim. it was then that your fate was sealed. there, sitting in the back corner, head tucked deep into a copy of the fault in our stars, was you. you. awkward and quiet. you with seemingly no friends. poor little unsuspecting you.

“that one,” nott smirked evilly.

“what the weirdo?!” draco exclaimed incredulously. “no way!”

“so then you forfeit?” blaise asked, causing draco to release a frustrated exhale.

“alright i’ll do it,” he rolled his eyes.

“then we give you five months. make yn yln fall in love with you in five months and we’ll do your homework for the rest of the year,” theo posed.

“and if i don’t?” draco asked.

“and when you don’t… thennn,” blaise taunted as he searched for a deal that was fair.

“then we get two hundred galleons each and you have to apologize to potter for making his life hell,” theo smirked. draco scoffed at this and rolled his eyes, but nodded nonetheless.

“and what are my conditions?” he raised an eyebrow.

“she has to say it first. you can do anything you want or need to get her to say it, but you cannot say ‘i love you’ first,” blaise spoke.

“this doesn’t seem fair to yn,” pansy piped in.

“shut your mouth parkinson. no one asked your opinion,” theo growled with a roll of his eyes. but it was too late. there was absolutely nothing the girl could do to get the three to change their minds. she just had to sit idly by and watch draco malfoy break your heart as she said nothing. she wished that she could stop it, but their minds were made up. and the three of them were very stubborn.

it was a few days after draco gave you his ring when your bubble came crashing down. you were walking to meet draco at your spot at the black lake when blaise and theo intercepted you. you knew who they were, of course you did. they were your boyfriend’s best friends, however why they were currently speaking to you, you had no idea.

they told you it would be quick. that they just wanted to show you something in the slytherin common room and left little room for argument, so you had no choice but to follow them there. they sat you on the couch and began to discuss your relationship with draco. you were very confused and had no idea why you were here. “so… draco hasn’t told you?” blaise mocked a gasp of shock.

“no?” you raised a soft eyebrow as you stared on. this made theo smirk evilly as he pulled up a projector and pointed his wand at it. a picture appeared, it looked like a memory. “what’s this?” you asked before the boys urged you to ‘shh.’ you sunk further into the couch as you idly watched on.

you truly weren’t paying attention untill you heard the voice of your boyfriend. the words he spoke stung. you were soft. emotional. the way he spoke about you absolutely crushed you. it would crush anyone, but it shattered you especially. “she’s so fucking weird!” “i’ll take that bet.”

‘s all you were. all you ever were. just a stupid belt. another notch in his belt. it was that moment that draco had barged into the common room. but by then, it was already too late. the tears had already sprung to your eyes and you were preparing for a torrential downpour as you heard his voice. “i’m out!” he announced breathlessly. he froze in his run as his eyes fell on you and what was playing on the projector currently. “bunny…” he whispered softly as his hand touched your shoulder, but you quickly jerked away as if his hand had burned you on contact.

“don’t call me that. don’t touch me,” you demanded as the tears began to fall. “that’s all i was? a bet?” an involuntary whimper sounded from the depths of your throat. “i feel so stupid.” you shook your head.

“no, bunny please listen to me,” you didn’t allow the boy to finish as you wrapped your arms tightly around yourself.

“don’t call me that!” you demanded. “in fact don’t call me at all. don’t… don’t talk to me draco. ever again. i can’t believe i fell for your stupid joke. i feel so… i feel like an idiot,” you spoke. you shook your head, hastily wiping at your eyes untill you saw stars. it was then that you decided to walk away.

“YN STOP!” draco yelled. “LISTEN to me,” he demanded.

“NO!” you shouted as you turned to face him finally. “godric draco, i wish you would’ve thought this through before i went and fell in love with you,” you sniffled as you wiped your snot on your sweater sleeve.

“yn please just let me explain. please listen to me, please,” he begged.

“i feel like you betrayed me,” you shook your head. “i told you everything. you were my everything. draco i loved you. i actually loved you. i thought you loved me too but i guess you’re just a really good actor,” you sniffled once more. “i hate you draco. i really fucking hate you. i don’t want to hear your bullshit explanation because i know that you’ll never feel sorry for the way i’m hurting right now.”

“it was a bet!” draco shouted as you walked away, hand on the door knob. you scoffed as you muttered a sarcastic, ‘no shit.’ “that’s how it started yes, but then i got to know you. i figured out who you were. i learned that your favorite color is yfc and that you prefer night over day because you love the stars and that your favorite star is scorpius and you would name your son after that star one day. i learned that you love to read and you love when it storms but you're afraid of the thunder. you only dance when you’re drunk and you giggle when you’re nervous and i love that giggle. with everything in me i do. your favorite book is yfb and you choose to be alone but you let everyone be your friend. you’re gorgeous. inside and out and while it may have started as a bet, somewhere along the lines i fell in love with you so yn please. please don’t leave,” he whispered the last part as his voice came out broken.

you took a deep breath in before you began to speak. “you couldn’t have cared less about someone who loved you more. i’d say you broke my heart but you broke much more than that,” you shook your head as you furiously wiped at your eyes again. “i gave you my all draco. you were my first everything. i gave you my virginity for merlin’s sake. all to find out that i was just some stupid bet,” you scoffed.

“yn please believe me when i say that you’re so much more than that,” he begged again. “i came to tell them that they won. that i wanted out because i fell in love with you too!”

“it doesn’t matter if you don’t see me as a bet any longer. the fact is that you did. i’m worth so so much more than that.” your breaths were ragged as you spoke. “i really wish that you had thought this through before i went and fell in love with you.” you repeated with a small sniffle. “don’t you think i loved you too much to be used and discarded? don’t you think i loved you too much to think i deserve nothing?” you were openly sobbing at this point.

“yn please believe me when i tell you how sorry i am…” he spoke softly.

“don’t tell me you’re sorry. feel sorry for yourself. because someday i’ll be everything to somebody else,” with this you turned away from him. you hastily opened the door and practically ran out of the common room and away from him.

at that moment you decided to forget about it. draco, and the bet, and love, and everything. like in the vampire diaries, you decided to turn your emotions off. you laid in your dorm crying for hours before you made that decision, however. your dorm mates checked on you often, but you never offered more than merely a half hearted shrug, letting them know that you were still alive, but barely breathing. you skipped classes and meals. you were a mere shell of yourself. it was about two weeks before you could face draco again. and even then you couldn’t truly. you went into the great hall and found “the slytherin squad” sans draco.

pansy looked at you sympathetically while theo and blaise basked in the glow of their new victory. you pulled the ring off carelessly as you stopped in front of them, hair disheveled and uniform askew. you had dark bags under your eyes from the lack of sleep you’d gotten in the past fourteen days and your eyes were rimmed red with the weight of your emotions. “c’you just give this back to malfoy,” you murmured half-heartedly as you dropped the ring on the table in front of the three. just speaking his name brought you pain.

your shoulders were sunken in defeat and you were but a shell of your usual cheerful self. you don’t even know when the last time you saw daylight or had fresh air was. “wait yln,” pansy called hesitantly. you turned to face her, still staring down at your mary janes as you pulled and twisted your fingers untill you heard your knuckles pop. “you… you really love him, don’t you?”

you just shrugged your right shoulder as you used the heel of your palm to wipe the snot from your rapidly reddening nose. “i was just some stupid bet,” you replied as tears begin to spill rapidly over your waterline.

“if it’s any consolation… it was those two bozos’ idea,” pansy told you as she pointed to blaise and theo.

“doesn’t matter,” you murmured. “he’s still a traitor,” you answered as you walked away, forgetting all about the slytherin prince and his stupid friends. forgetting all about how he hit you with a train of his “love.” forgetting all about how for three months he was your everything. forgetting all about how he wrote to his mum about you and you wrote to your parents about him. forgetting all about draco malfoy. the platinum blonde boy with stormy grey eyes who had a long story buried beneath his haughty exterior. the boy who you called your first. your first kiss. your first time. your first love. forgetting all about the boy that made you fall in love just to tell you it was all a bet.

attempting to revert back to how you were before you fell.

add yourself to my taglist :)

nani’s 100 followers celebration

taglist: @hellounicorn @mollysolo @i-love-scott-mccall @veela-essence

[littlefreya]

Of Henry and his characters, who's more likely to say 'I love you' first or not too.

When will he tell you that he loves you...

Warning: RPF, 18+, loads of fluff, slight smut, mention of some adult situations, mentions of blood, mentions of alcohol.

A/N: Ok, following list of which says it first and when. The Henry one is somewhat of a personal fantasy of mine. Sorry for the sap. The Mike story is inspired by “You’re The Worst”

Henry

Your fingers still caress the door handle, eyes lowered to the floor while he stands behind you with his hand holding the door shut. The heat of his body wafts over you, both making your thigh quake in tension and threatening to draw you into the wall of his torso torso. 

But you can't, even now with a tingle enkindling in your chest and the twists and turns woving in your gut, you can’t make that move until you'll know for sure.

"If you'll leave now... I don't know if I'll have the guts to say this..." He breathes behind you with his timbre dropping smoothly like a stroke on a velvet sheet.

"Say what, Henry?..." you ask not daring to turn.

Time thickens and slow down, Henry’s breath is shallow against your neck and while he lingers in silence every cell in your body begins to burn. That’s when his hand finds your jaw and with a thumb pressed to the tip of your chin, he makes you turn around and look into his eyes.

“I can’t do this anymore, I won’t.” His gaze is a cold shade of blue, washed away from the glee you are so familiar with. “I don’t want to be friends.”

You know what’s next to come, you can feel it in the heart of yours as it rumbles in your chest about to explode and still you prefer being dumb, out of the cruel fear that this a delirium of some kind. 

"Ok,” is all that follows from your lips and then...

There are no more words.

No air left in the room.

Because his mouth capture yours, stealing a long overdue kiss that makes you see every colour in the world behind the darkness of your shut eyes. You hum into his mouth, at least that’s what you think the 

When he breaks away, the world is different and then it’s the blue of his eyes again. Not letting go, he licks your taste off his lips and then murmurs those three words: “I love you.”

Clark

After everything you’ve been through together, it didn’t take the world to burn or some new threat to make him realise that he couldn’t live without you. Seeing you stand in the kitchen, struggling with a jar of peanut butter you fought so desperately to open on your own while he could have done that for you all he could think of is how he didn’t knew anything about anything before he met you.

“I love you,” Clark blurted out and scratched the back of his neck nervously.

You froze, giving him the dumbest look with the jar pressed between your breast and your hands holding the lid awkwardly. You wanted to say it back, when a loud pop echoed in the kitchen as the lid became loose.   

Syverson

You wonder why you keep letting him in, especially in his current state; drunk out of his wits with his shirt sticky with whiskey-drenched sweat. This friends-with-benefits thing was a bad idea to begin with, you knew you had feelings for Sy and for some stupid reason you hoped this will help you get over it but you just kept falling harder and harder and Syverson, not caring about anything other than getting his dick wet, kept appearing at your doorstep knowing he can have you whenever he wants.

‘This is the last time... now just listen to what he has to say and kick him out.’ you chant inside your head.

“Speak.” You fold your arms together and crook an eyebrow.

Syverson’s eyes round with guilt. He massages his torn knuckles painfully and then offers an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, I got jealous, I thought he had a thing for you.” 

“Since when do you care? We are not even together.”

His eyes suddenly become watery and without taking another breath he steps toward you. Instinctively you raise your hand in the air with protest, “don’t!” 

“But I love you.” Sy drawls and pouts, his shoulders slumping at once. 

You stare in shock, that same chant in your head that tried to convince you to kick him out now goes ‘I love you, I love you, I love you too.’ But you bite your tongue and fight off that foolish smile that threatens to spread between your cheeks.

“Bed. Now. We’ll talk about this in the morning.”

Sy grins like an idiot. Closing the distance between you, he wraps his arms around you and then squeezes your ass.

“I am not going to have sex with you when you’re drunk!” you warn, feeling him hardening against your belly.

“Of course you won’t,” he provokes.

“Sy, I meant it!!!”

“Can I at least eat your pussy then?...”

Mike

“Oh fuck me...” you groan, holding your head between your palms. “I am never drinking again...”

Sitting right next to you on the stoney steps outside the sorority house, Mike says nothing but just smiles, looking sated despite having to drag your drunk ass out of that party last night.

You feel your belly drop as the fear that you did something wrong suddenly seeps in. 

“Wait! Did I do something I’d regret?...” 

“Nope,” he chimes, pressing his lips into a thin line, “I mean... you did throw up in my car.”

“Oh no!” you whine, and immediately cover your mouth. 

Mike chuckles and shakes his head. “It’s okay, you’re not the first one to throw up inside Betty... but you are the first person to confess their feelings to me while I cleaned vomit from their hair...”

‘Fuck!’  

Stilling in shock,you look away but from the corner of your eye you can see his lips twitching into a smirk.

“I love you too.” 

Walter

His sweat trickles onto your face, splashing onto your lips, against your tongue where you can taste him briny and heady on your tongue. 

Swallow. 

It’s the only thing you can do while he thrusts into your already-sore, clamping cunt, taking you hard while he is trying to fuck the demons and the shadows away.

Never mind the pain. 

You come either way, your body addicted to brutal pummel of his cock against your core, sucking him deeper inside you until it feels as if you’re a shared entity.  A schism made whole again.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” he grunts, feeling you clench around his swollen cock, he snaps his hands around your wrists and pins them above your head and with a shout he falls apart. 

“I love you so fucking much.”

August

Fresh blood paints his hands. It’s on his shirt and forehead too. Not his blood, neither yours and still you can’t help the tears that follow. 

Somehow you always knew - this man will be the end of you. All the secrecy, the closed door and the dark gleam that danced upon his eyes. 

But you enjoyed this ride far too much to ask to stop.

“Angel...” he finally speaks, the knife he used to kill the other agent still in his fist. “Don’t be afraid.”

You shake your head, pushing yourself hard against the wall as if wishing to become one with the concrete. August ignores the obvious tentacles of terrors that clutches your heart and with one strides his body is pressed into yours.

“Don’t kill me!” You beg.

“Sh...” he whispers, attempting to calm you down. There is something almost euphoric in this fear, in the air that drains from your brain while his bloody fingers caress your trembling face, and gently taint your skin.

Fuck. You still love him. 

August rakes you with his eyes, his fingers now pinching your chin as he holds you in his gaze.

“My angel, how can I ever hurt you? I just killed for you. I will burn this world to a cinder if you’d ask.”

He leans in, marking your forehead with a lingering kiss and then wraps you in his arms, letting you sob away your fear until finally you melt into his embrace and accept him for what he is.

“It’s you and me against the world, princess.”

[bt-writing]

Stress Relief

(ModernAU!Kazuha x gn!Reader)

A/N: ahh it feels so good finally getting this posted. i dropped the piece i was originally working on so i’m glad this brought my motivation back. this is my first shot at modernAU! super fluffy and comforting. everyone, make sure you take care of yourself, especially at this time of the year!

warnings: none

SFW

word count: 1.7k

summary: When you’re about to crack from stress, there’s only one person who is able to put your mind at ease.

"I give up! I can't do this anymore."

Beyond frustrated, you slammed your textbook shut. You had been mindlessly staring at its contents for the last few minutes; the now meaningless words definitely would have turned your dull headache into a throbbing migraine if you continued.

After spending the entire day studying, your brain had finally burnt out and forced you away from the monotonous walls of text. The rational part of you knew that nothing would get done if you weren't focused. Even so, you couldn't help but feel like you were wasting precious time by taking a break. It made you anxious and only added to your stress.

A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you rubbed your temples. How much time had you spent studying in the first place? Could you even afford to take a break? Similar thoughts pounded in your head, but you were surprised to see the sun setting through the window. The golden light that filtered into the room gave you your answer.

In the middle of standing from your seat at the dining table, a soft knock echoed from your apartment's front door.

"Coming," you called. Your voice was weak due to not being used all day.

Upon opening the door, you were met with the troubled face of your boyfriend. Kazuha's lips formed a slight pout as he looked you up and down, examining your condition.

"Are you okay, (Y/N)? I was getting worried," he frowned, his voice laced with gentle concern. "You haven't answered your phone all day."

You stepped aside, nonverbally inviting him into your apartment. Kazuha shuffled over to your kitchen while you scanned the room for your phone. It was left abandoned, partially hidden underneath a cushion so as to not be a distraction while you worked.

"Ah, yeah—I'm okay. I've just had my face stuffed inside these stupid textbooks since this morning. I feel like my head is about to explode." Picking up your phone, you saw Kazuha's two missed calls and fourteen text messages from throughout the day, along with the various other notifications left unanswered. Guilt settled in your gut. "I'm sorry, Kazuha... I didn't mean to worry you."

While you were distracted on your phone, Kazuha snuck up behind you and trapped you in his arms. Soft lips placed a kiss on your temple, then disappeared as he moved his chin to rest on your shoulder.

"I understand, love. As long as you are safe, I can rest easy," he consoled. You twisted your body in Kazuha's hold to face him directly. His scarlet irises contained nothing but love as he gave you a tender smile and tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. "Your dedication is something I greatly admire about you, you know."

Whenever Kazuha spoke to you, it was almost guaranteed to be something tooth-achingly sweet. Adoration and affection dripped from his words like acid and melted your heart. A comforting warmth grew from your chest and spread through your body, alleviating every knot of tension you carried. Kazuha never failed to make you feel as though your hard work was worth it in the end.

His compliment caused your cheeks to heat slightly. "Mm, careful now. All that sweet talk might go to my head," you joked. Kazuha shared your goofy smile and leaned in to kiss your lips, only to divert and peck your nose instead. Now, you were the one left pouting while he wore a teasing grin.

"Well, we wouldn't want that to happen, would we?" Kazuha ruffled your hair and pulled away from the loose hug, making his way back to your small apartment kitchen. "Are you hungry at all?"

You hadn't noticed the weak pangs of hunger coming from your stomach until his question forced you to acknowledge them.

"I guess I am... I haven't eaten much all day, actually. I've been so busy with other things." You heard a sigh and the rustle of a plastic bag from the kitchen.

"I figured as much. I brought some takeout from your favorite place on the way here." The smell of food wafting through the room made your mouth water. "We can watch a movie while we eat, if you want. Is there anything that's caught your eye recently?"

Ah, so Kazuha really was an angel. There was no other reasonable explanation for the godsend who you called your boyfriend.

This time, it was you who hugged your partner from behind while he prepared the food. "Thank you, Kazuha," you said, burying your face in between his shoulder blades. "You always treat me so good... I'll never know what I did to deserve you." His upper body vibrated as he hummed in response. You knew it was his way of accepting your words, even if he didn't completely agree with them.

You stood holding Kazuha in comfortable silence, relishing the feeling of his muscles slightly flexing whenever he moved his arms. His body heat drew you in closer and closer until he wiggled out of your grasp, making a teasingly unimpressed face at the way you 'couldn't even wait until the food was ready to cuddle.'

---

You sighed contently, curling deeper into Kazuha's chest. The light from the television flashed through the room and illuminated your lover's handsome face with cool blues and magentas. It was a calm night; the lack of clouds allowed the vibrant moonlight to stream through the curtains.

The steady beating of Kazuha's heart nearly lulled you to sleep. His eyes were hazy as they watched the t.v. screen, as if his mind was somewhere else entirely. This wasn't an unusual expression for Kazuha by any means. His aloof and easygoing nature was one of the most endearing things about him, but the list went on and on. You loved the way he would offhandedly recite poems while you walked through the park, and the way he always brought an extra umbrella to class for you when he knew it was about to rain, and the way he managed to fall asleep practically anywhere at any time.

But you especially loved moments like these, where it felt as though it was just you and Kazuha, alone and ignorant to the rest of the world. The gentle sighs from his breathing were barely audible over the t.v.'s low volume, yet you could hear them clearly all the same. It was only with him that you felt completely at peace; every stressor in your mind was hushed by his presence.

You figured Kazuha could sense your attention was focused on him when he broke his red eyes away from the t.v. and looked down towards you.

"Is something wrong?"

You chewed the inside of your cheek before speaking your worries aloud.

"Are you happy with me, Kazuha?"

Kazuha's eyebrows raised, evidently surprised by your question. It was a bit unfair of you to ask something like that out of the blue, but you knew better than to lie to him. Once Kazuha thought you were upset, he would always try to comfort you until you opened up about whatever problem was on your mind. You didn't want to make him any more concerned for you than you already had.

"Of course I am, love." He cupped your face with his hand soothingly. "Did something happen to make you think otherwise?"

"No, nothing happened. It's just that... I'm really happy with you. You're so sensitive to my needs, sometimes I think you even know me better than I know myself," you laughed softly. "But, if I don't make you feel the same way... If you aren't happy, I don't want you to waste your time on me—worrying or anything like that. I doubt today will be the last time I disappear for a bit. I won't be able to spend as much time with you anymore, so I'm scared that I'll make you frustrated, or you won't be satisfied being in a relationship with me anymore." You hid your face in his chest, unable to hold such intimate eye contact with Kazuha at the moment. "I don't want you to feel lonely."

You held your breath. There was a short moment of silence before you heard Kazuha chuckle. It was your turn to look up at him in surprise.

"Lonely?" He smiled affectionately. "Don't you know who you're talking to, love? Even if a day passes where I don't see your face, the fact that I can call you mine fills my heart with more than enough joy. There is no room left for loneliness."

You groaned out a weak complaint, scooting your body up in order to bury your nose in the crook of his neck. "But still," you whined, "I'll be really busy with my studies."

Kazuha huffed at your stubbornness. "Aren't you forgetting? It's not as though we won't be able to see each other at all, and I don't expect you to drop your work just to spend time with me. I am here only to support you, not to cause you more stress than needed," he cooed. Kazuha's fingers combed through your hair as he spoke. You had to stop yourself from moaning out at the feeling. "Unless, you don't want to be with me anymore? I wouldn't want to distract-"

"No!" You shot up, looking him directly in the face. "That's not what I want at all! It was just-"

Kazuha abruptly silenced you with his lips. Your breath was taken away as you temporarily froze in shock, processing his actions before kissing him back just as passionately. The kiss told you everything you needed to know—that there was no point in worrying for Kazuha, that he would get by just fine with some more alone time than usual. He was a bit of a wanderer and was always able to adjust to the flow of things. He never got high-strung over stuff that didn't go his way. Kazuha was always patient and understanding with you, no matter what happened. You knew you were the luckiest person in the world to have the chance to stay by his side.

As your lungs began to feel tight, Kazuha broke the kiss and pulled a few inches away from your face. You stared at each other, lightly panting, before Kazuha parted his lips to speak.

"Good," he smiled, "because leaving wasn't really an option, anyways."

[xlonelysoulxx]

Being a Mermaid and Jacob’s Imprint Would Include... {2}

{gif isn’t mine}

xxxxx

You had disappeared for a whole month. You had only sent Leah a few messages after the incident, to give a sign of life and reassure the pack... which hadn’t helped matters when Jacob found out. "WHY didn't you tell me?!” “You acted like a f*cking jerk, why should I have?" The tension was so overwhelming, to the point where the other wolves must have come between them that day. Leah wanted to protect her friend, and Jacob wanted to get his imprint back. But he couldn't.

xxxxx

You hadn’t planned to come back, not so soon... this is what you had entrusted to the pretty wolf. You wanted to get some distance... away from Forks, from La Push... and from Jacob. You couldn't take it anymore. It was already hard that he treated you so coldly ‘cause he loved one another, but seeing him tear himself apart with his brothers... because of you? It was too much. It had gone way too far.

xxxxx

Grudge and worry kept growing among the wolves even when Jacob were gone, wandering god knows where near the Canadian border. Guilt and pain had kept twisting him from the inside ever since, and hearing the thoughts of his pack... especially when it came to you, had become torture. Even Jared, who had felt at fault at first, only felt annoyance now. Jacob was a ball of nerves ready to explode at any moment, while he was the one who had behaved badly in the first place. Fuck... he could have hurt you?! All because he had let himself be overcome by his emotions, emotions that he wasn’t yet ready to assume out loud.

xxxxx

The feeling of lack linked to the imprint was so strong that it sometimes prevented you from breathing, but that wasn't the worst. It was at that moment... that you realized how much you were in love with Jacob Black.

xxxxx

Even the pull of the bond wasn't as strong as the crack forged in your heart. A gash already wide open over the past few weeks (consciously or not) by the constant presence of Isabella Swan - hunted by Victoria - and now gaping as you left the Quileute... and Jacob, behind you. It was clear, the difference between these feelings - as if your heart and your guts were going in two distinct directions. How stupid you were... as if fate wasn't cruel enough like that.

xxxxx

You were quite surprised to see Alice and Jasper appear at your workplace one morning, a small neighborhood library near Port Angeles. It was brand new, no one knew about it. No one except Alice. Obviously... What were they doing there? You weren't particularly close to the Cullens, but you liked the lil’ brunette quite a bit. Did something happen? Did he... no, Leah would have warned you. Right..?

xxxxx

“He's stupidly stubborn, and guilty. But he's fine... for now.” You no longer understood anything, since when did Alice appreciate Jacob? She didn’t. But she couldn't control her visions. Time was running out. An army was approaching, Bella was once again the center of attention... and the future had darkened. The two clans who called themselves enemies had decided to unite reluctantly, to protect her - but what was your role in this story?

xxxxx

“Don't get me wrong, Alice... I don't wish Bella any harm.” You were boiling from the inside, but Bella wasn't the reason of your pain... Jacob was. You had no animosity towards the young girl, the shapeshifter was mature enough to make his own choices. It was between you and him, and yet. “But you came here for nothing.” You didn't look her in the eye anymore, busy sorting through the same books over and over in your hands. You couldn't believe she had come here just for this. She wanted you to come back to him, so he could come back to her... come back to Bella. To protect her.

xxxxx

Jasper hadn't moved from his place since their arrival, standing proudly straight behind his beloved. He could easily sense your anger, mixed with pain and incomprehension... and just like that, your eyes met his for a long second. “You should listen to her, Y/N.” You could feel a wave of appeasement sweep over you, immediately glaring at the vampire. "And you shouldn’t try to manipulate my emotions, Jasper."

xxxxx

“He won't survive it, Y/N... I saw it.” You could feel your blood running cold through your veins. What was she talking about?? Jacob was actually back in Forks, for more than a week now. But he was a freaking mess. He made sure to stay away from the pack, irritable... unpredictable, and more closed than ever. Quite the opposite of who he really was. You could feel your heart skipping a beat... Alice had glimpsed the impending confrontation, and the outcome had been fatal for the brown wolf.

xxxxx

No, no, no... it couldn't happen. It. Couldn't. The information was too much to handle as you began to hyperventilate like an idiot in the store, Jasper immediately moving to your side. You couldn't let him get killed all this because he was distracted by the whole "imprint thing”, no... you could never forgive yourself for it. You would leave your pride aside without any hesitation for him, everything for him... no matter the welcome you would receive in return.

xxxxx

The car ride was terribly quiet. The battle would take place in three days, so there was no time to waste. Your boss had been accommodating enough to give you your afternoon (he seemed to be pleased by your work, good for you) and this is where you were now... on the road back to Forks, sitting in the back of Alice's car. She had insisted on taking you there given your emotional state, and you were silently grateful for that. You could feel the anguish mounting as you approached the Quileute reserve, unconsciously wriggling in your seat.

xxxxx

“Stop the car.” The air was too thick to breathe, and you felt like you were drowning... there was only one way to fix it. You were close enough now, you could join the reserve on your own... but not right away. You quickly thanked the couple before slamming the door, taking the path to the forest under the worried gaze of the petite brunette. You ran, unable to stop before reaching the impressive cliff... not thinking twice before jumping.

xxxxx

You felt like you could finally breathe again as the icy water came in contact with your hot skin. You haven't been back to the ocean since the incident, and you had missed it - terribly. You could feel a pinch in your stomach as you rose to the surface, quickly looking up as your eyes instantly fell on the huge brown wolf that stood high on the rocks. Jacob. He was there... how?

xxxxx

You dived again after an endless exchange of glances, taking longer than necessary to reach the shore. A part of you feared your reunion, while the other was just relieved and excited to see him again. Jacob had reached the beach at an impressive speed, the shapeshifter dressed warmer than usual while a large jacket and boots complemented the usual shorts specific to all Quileutes. His heart was pounding as he observed the surface, impatiently waiting to see you reappear. Were you even going to do it..? He couldn't believe you were really there.

xxxxx

And you did. Your feet sank into the wet sand as you left the sweet comfort offered by the waves, your long hair sticking to your skin like a second skin. You were completely exposed as the cold wind whipped through your entire body, Jacob's eyes never leaving yours as he took off his jacket… wasting no time wrapping it around you. The distance between you was ridiculously thin now, the silence heavy and comfortable at the same time. There was no room for shyness here, it was Jacob. And despite everything that had happened you had full confidence in him.

xxxxx

None of you dared to speak first... almost like it's going to shatter the present moment, and bring bad memories to the surface. “I was afraid I had hurt you.” He finally confessed, almost shamefully. Start at the beginning, yeah... it was good. “I'm sorry I disappeared... I just panicked.” You answered briefly, but he cut you off almost immediately.“You don't have to feel sorry for anything, Y/N. I should. For everything.”  He really was. He wanted to tell you how sorry he was, how much he had missed you... and how much he loved you. But he didn't have the right. Not now, and maybe never. But repeating it to you, showing you how sorry he was and how much he regretted the way he had treated you... seemed like a good start. He wanted to be the best imprint for you... a friend, a protector. If you wanted him to be. He didn't want to be separated from you like that anymore. Never again.

xxxxx

You could hear the sincerity in his voice, the erratic changes in his breathing… and the heat radiating from his body which was enveloping you like a soft blanket. He meant every word. You were sure of it. And it was, indeed, a good start... yes. It was like a silent acceptance, like a secret language between the two of you... your throat tightening a bit before you wrapped your arms around him.

xxxxx

Jacob automatically tightens his embrace around you, selfishly accepting the gesture of affection you both needed so badly. He trapped your body against his, resting his chin against the top of your head as you stood on your tiptoes... inhaling his scent. There he was, alive and safe in your arms... and that was all that mattered right now. And you were going to make sure that it stays that way, no matter what.

xxxxx

But fate wasn't so lenient, you should have known that... it didn't rest only in your hands. Cruel reality exploded in your face that day, Jacob's scream echoing through the entire clearing at the same time as the sound of his ribs being broken by the newborn vampire. It all happened so fast. Leah had found herself trapped in the deadly embrace of one of them, Jacob had intervened... and now he was writhing in pain on the ground.

xxxxx

You had joined him in a few strides, stumbling alongside him as your heartbeat echoed through your ears. Carlisle stood by your side, examining the extent of the damage before the other members of the pack arrived in turn. His voice was twisted in pain as he tried to pronounce your name, squeezing your hand in his before the other wolves surrounded him to pick him up - Paul reluctantly pulling you away from your imprint. Tears filled your eyes, so much so that you hadn't even seen Bella arrive… the obvious horror on her face. How could this have happened? You thought you could change Alice's vision, you really believed you could... but you obviously failed. Literally.

[ladyartemesia]

The Terms

◐ PART III of THE ALPHA ◐

◐ Part I ◐ Part II ◐ Series Masterlist ◐

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Jimin x Omega Reader

Rating: Mature (for this installment)

Warnings: ABO sexual dynamics including discussion of scenting, marking, mating, and claiming. Violence and discussion of violence relating to ritual combat. Jin’s pheromones need their own warning. Yoonji and Yunli are not the same person.

Word Count: 2300

Author’s Note: As promised, this chapter is twice as long as the previous two and a lot of what people have been speculating about in the asks is discussed in this chapter... along with a few surprises...

“Luna rex provocatione means ‘the moon king’s challenge.’ It is never invoked lightly as its consequences are grave indeed... If an alpha believes that he is the true Alpha and the goddess has placed another in his path as a test of worthiness and dedication to the pack, then he will acknowledge his acceptance of this test by declaring luna rex provocatione. Once the challenge has been set forth only the death of the Luna’s first mate or the total surrender of the challenger can satisfy it...”

Text of the traditional speech given by a chief elder to begin a luna rex provocatione ritual [7th century]

“I know you won’t understand, but this isn’t personal-”

Jimin offered his rival an overtly feigned smile.

“You plan to kill me and claim my mate. Which part of that could I possibly take personally?”

Tae snorted somewhere in the background and Yoongi elbowed him hard.

Tradition dictated that both alphas meet with their second-in-commands in the chief elder’s chambers to discuss the terms of combat.

Namjoon brought Min Yoongi and Jimin had somehow ended up with Taehyung.

He didn’t remember actually agreeing to make Tae his second...

It just sort of happened somewhere between calming his hysterical mother and quickly reading up on archaic pack law.

The chief elder coughed uncomfortably. Goddess, this ascension was supposed to be easy. He never in a million moons thought he’d be in this position.

The last chief elder who oversaw a luna rex provocatione ritual had immortalized it in his journal as “the single most horrific moment of my life,” describing in detail the Luna howling in torment at the loss of her mate and the victor collapsing over the corpse of his foe in misery and guilt.

As in the past, the outcome of this conflict was already decided by fate...

Pain and regret weighed heavily on the older man as he considered the younger of the two alphas.

Park Jimin was going to die violently and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Because Kim Namjoon issued the challenge, his opponent will decide combat form. Your choices are human form, half-shifted, and wolf-form. After your choice is declared, Namjoon may add a minor alteration if he so desires. Park Jimin, please declare form.”

“Human,” he answered softly - and every single occupant of the room recoiled in response.

It was bad enough to witness a fight in wolf form or half-shifted... but to engage in ritual combat as a human-

It would be brutal - even psychologically disturbing - without the benefit of a wolf’s hide to mask the savagery.

Namjoon’s eyes widened in shock, but he recovered quickly.

“I request teeth and claws.”

Not quite a half-shift. Teeth and claws allowed for attacks using lengthened canines and claws.

It could make a kill slightly more... humane.

Jimin nodded and the elder pressed his seal over the first of the terms.

The were no windows in the small, stuffy chamber and between the heavy ceremonial garb and the nearly twenty braided praesidium bracelets wrapped around his wrists, Jimin felt as if the blood in his veins was literally coming to a boil.

Though he dared not remove them to relieve his discomfort.

Each bracelet represented a prayer to the goddess. They were given as protection to a loved one before a great trial.

His mother had not stopped making them since the ascension. She’d torn apart her most expensive dress and spent hours twisting the fabric strips into intricate traditional braids while she prayed...

Jimin’s fingers sought them out for comfort as the miserable parade of ritual legalities marched past the two hour mark.

Many agreements (like Jimin’s insistence that his mother not be allowed to attend the fight and Namjoon’s pledge to financially support the Park family in the event of their alpha’s death) were settled quickly, however the sheer number of details to be solidified was overwhelming.

“I think it best if we adjourn for a short recess,” the chief elder sighed wearily and Taehyung nearly ran Yoongi over in his desperate scramble to finally use a restroom.

Jimin turned to leave, but a hand on his elbow drew him back.

“I want you to know, I did this for you as much as for the rest of them.”

His tone was low and carefully respectful, but Jimin’s wolf snapped irritably at the elder alpha’s presumption.

“What an... interesting statement to make.”

He pointedly removed Namjoon’s hand from his arm with calculated nonchalance.

“No one expected you to be chosen... Jungkook, or even Hoseok, would have been an understandable alternative, but you’ve never taken being an alpha seriously-”

“According to you,” Jimin fired back, finally allowing his voice to harden in cold fury. “I have always known and valued what I am. I simply never felt called to your version of it.”

Namjoon tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Park Jimin might not look particularly dangerous ... but for the first time, the Kim alpha considered that he may have underestimated his opponent.

“Either way - the pack does not trust you. They are not confident in your ability to lead them,”his hands fisted reflexively at his side as he considered the weight of his next words, “...but if you beat me, they will never question your strength.”

Jimin’s hands tightened into fists.

Namjoon might be an overconfident windbag, but he had a point.

He faced an uphill battle to subdue a restless pack as well as increased threats from rival clans looking to expand their own power and territory.

The challenge was a chance to establish his claim.

Or die trying.

“You think rather highly of yourself,” he chuckled and Namjoon bristled indignantly.

“I have devoted my life to the pack. I have never questioned my duty to them.” He leaned forward a bit, holding the younger alpha’s gaze with purpose. “That is why I will not hesitate to kill you.”

“And what of the Luna?” Jimin wondered in mock contemplation. “Do you think she will take kindly to the loss of her mate if you win?”

Namjoon’s jaw clenched. The Luna was clearly a sore subject.

“If I win, then you were never really her mate were you? Your entire existence boils down to nothing more than a sacred test in my destined path.”

Silence stretched heavily as the two alphas regarded one another with open hostility.

“I will fight you till the last shred of life is ripped from my body,” Jimin snarled.

A shiver ran down Namjoon’s spine, though he was far from intimidated.

“At least now you sound like an alpha,” he scoffed.

Then he was gone.

Jimin waited till the sound of the older man’s footsteps faded before slamming his fist into the table.

He needed air and to be alone with his thoughts for moment before he could civilly resume the endless negotiations.

Unfortunately, the only place offering both of those things was a cluttered balcony near the back of the building.

The room traditionally designated for luna rex provocatione proceedings had been used as a storage closet for at least the last hundred years (and therefore needed to be hastily cleared after Namjoon’s inconvenient declaration). Consequently, the room’s former contents (piles of toys from this season’s charity drive) were now strewn haphazardly across the narrow outdoor space like debris from a brightly colored bomb.

Jimin carefully navigated his way to the balcony’s wooden rail and lifted his eyes to the moon.

“Please,” he begged softly “... send me a sign.”

“If he did not hate me before, he surely does now,” you sighed, staring morosely at the lights flickering in the old chamber building. Somewhere within the bowels of that archaic fire hazard, your mate of less than twenty-four hours was negotiating a nightmare.

“This is not your fault, Luna-“

“Isn’t it?” you snapped. “That’s who I am. I’m the Luna, if I could just accept another mate without someone getting their throat ripped out, then none of this would be necessary.”

Jin sqeezed your hand sympathetically.

The council placed you under guard in a small cottage across from the elder’s chambers in order to prevent the alphas from having any contact with you. Since then you kept a constant vigil from its rickety porch, hoping to catch a glimpse of the young man whose life you had ruined.

“Would you do it then - if you could?... Would you accept another mate to spare the Park alpha?”

Bitter tears burned at the corner of your eyes.

“Yes,” you whispered, “...I think I’d do almost anything to save him.”

Comfortable silence settled between you for several minutes - until a small flutter of movement drew your gaze to the chamber balcony.

Then he walked out.

And just the sight of him was enough to slam your heart up into your throat.

Jimin...

Jin quickly turned to your guard and unleashed a wave of pheromones that would have knocked out a grizzly bear. The guard whined and abandoned her post to follow him inside without a second thought, leaving you conveniently alone.

Male omegas are a rare and dangerous breed, you observed wryly, before retuning your attention to the man across the path.

A painful ache twisted hungrily in your gut as you watched him tilt his face to the sky. Somehow the relentless beauty of his features was even more captivating in the moonlight...

Suddenly a strong breeze braided though the air around you, playing with the loose strands of your hair and carrying your scent away from the small cottage and up to the balcony where the young alpha sought solace.

Jimin’s eyes shot open as the rich, unforgettable essence of you exploded over his senses. His gaze immediately locked with yours, cutting through the distance and darkness with an intensity that left you reeling.

You could not see his face at the ascension - instead the blindfold left you burning with curiosity as your mind conjured a thousand variations of how he might have looked on you in that moment...

Yet every last one of them fell short.

You could never have imagined the naked longing - the fierce desire - that burned boldly in his regard.

A strange, desperate frustration overtook you.

He was too far away - and Namjoon was going to take him from you before you could touch him again - before you could breathe him in again-

The cruel wind continued to pull your fragrance toward Jimin like an erotic incense, yet it offered you no such gift in return. You could not discern his scent and you wanted to - needed to - with a voracity that was almost blinding.

Please...

A mournful whimper tore from your lips and Jimin’s body reacted instantly to your distress.

Suddenly he was digging through the piles of mismatched trinkets and toys on the balcony, tossing aside all manner of discarded treasures till he finally found what he was searching for.

“Jimin-hyung! Where are you? Chief elder wishes to resume-”

Jimin glanced toward door as his fingers worked frantically over the object his hands.

“I’m on my way!”

His eyes found yours one last time, then he drew back-

A muted thwack echoed a few inches from your shoulder as whatever Jimin threw embedded itself into one of the porch beams.

Your fingers trembled with anticipation as you reached forward to retrieve (what appeared to be) a pointed metal dart - probably from a wall-mounted Darts game someone donated...

A length of braided cloth was tied tightly to the shaft and you recognized it immediately as a praesidium bracelet.

Soothing waves of Jimin’s scent drifted up from the fabric where it had rubbed repeatedly against the glands in his wrist.

Your body calmed instantly. Cold desperation gave way to the soft warmth of tenderness.

He knew.

He knew what you needed and he found a way to send it to you.

Your hand closed tightly over the bracelet as you crumpled to your knees and sobbed.

A gentle knock sounded at Namjoon’s door and a familiar figure slipped inside.

“...Yunli?”

Namjoon blinked for several moments in confusion before closing his evening read to approach her.

“Yunli... why - what are you doing here? It’s late - the ritual set to begin at sunrise.” He glanced at the door behind her, “Is Yoongi with you?”

She shook her head.

“My brother doesn’t know I’m here.”

Namjoon’s eyes widened as he considered all the ways his best friend’s younger sister sneaking into his house (in the middle of the night no less) could go horribly wrong.

“Ah. Well... that’s ...not good,” he mumbled, running his hand over his face. “Are-um - are you here to wish me luck for tomorrow?”

He reached for a glass of water to soothe his suddenly dry throat.

“No. Frankly I hope Park Jimin beats you to a bloody pulp.”

Water sprayed comically out of Namjoon’s mouth as he began to cough violently.

“What?!” *wheeze* “Why?!”

She offered him a sad smile.

“You know why, Kim Namjoon.”

He did know why.

Yunli had loved him (or believed she loved him) since she was a little girl.

He sighed heavily.

“Yunli, we’ve been over this-”

“One week. The change comes to me in one week-”

“You’re Yoongi’s sister-”

“I’ll be twenty years old, and for the last time I’m not your sister-”

“Goddess above, Yunli!” he shouted, “You’re just a child!”

Yunli’s hands gripped the collar of his shirt and yanked him down to her level.

“I am not a child!” she growled.

Then her mouth was on his and every single thought he ever had disappeared.

There was only her.

Heat poured through him like heavy syrup as his senses surrendered one by one. His arms wrapped around her without the slightest hesitation, as if their sole purpose was draw her in.

Sweet... Oh goddess, she’s sweet.

Yunli whined needily and a possessive growl rumbled from his chest in response.

Then she was pulling back - wrenching herself away from him with an anguished sob.

Bitter tears flowed freely down her impossibly beautiful face and Namjoon - who spent the majority of his life barely acknowledging his heart - suddenly felt it shatter.

“You should have waited for me,” she whispered.

“Yunli-I-” he tried calling out to her, but it was no use.

She was already gone.

“Are you sure you have everything you need?”

Jimin offered his second a distracted smile and nodded. His room looked the same as it did the morning of the ascension, yet his entire life was different...

“You were great today, Taehyung. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tae felt his chest swell with pride. He didn’t want to think about what sunrise might bring, but he was determined to serve his old friend well.

For as long as he could.

“I don’t know about that,” he chuckled, recalling that he fell asleep on his feet for three entire terms before anyone noticed. “You’re a surprisingly ruthless negotiator. I barely contributed.”

“I wasn’t alone though...” Jimin whispered, “and when Namjoon first issued the challenge... I thought I might be.”

Taehyung gulped, pushing back the oppressive sorrow settling in his gut in favor of some levity.

“You - uh - you actually missed the wildest part of the whole day.”

“...I did?”

“Yeah it was bizarre. Did you notice the table was different after our break?”

Jimin shrugged. His thoughts had been... elsewhere at that point.

“We couldn’t find you at first, so you missed the whole ordeal but - when we all came back to the room, that big oak table was split in half.”

Hello my precious readers! If you would like to be added to the taglist, let me know in the comments.

(If you are already on the taglist, I will automatically tag you in all future chapters, you do not need to ask to be tagged again.)

Please please please PLEASE let me know what you think! This chapter was HARD and I genuinely aganized over it. Your feedback and support are what kept me pushing though. Truly. I would love to hear from you! I treasure every word of feedback like diamonds.

End Note: Yoonji was mentioned earlier in the story. She is Yoongi and Yunli’s cousin. Yunli and Yoonji are separate characters.

[arts-and-drafts]

Linger (Hermit Tommy AU)

(A discussion about scars. This one has been in the bucket for a long time, and it's finally done! Enjoy!!)

TW: Permanent injury, bodily harm, scars, overdose mention

-

Tommy's in pain.

The hermits mistook his ever tense posture for wariness, his pinched expression seeming only a front to those Tommy distrusted. They hope it will ease with time, and they are patient.

They turn out to be right. Slowly, Tommy gets used to them, relaxes, smiles more and yells less.

But he's still tense, and his face still twists occasionally in what the hermits start to realize is hurt rather than intimidation after completing simple tasks like lifting shulker boxes.

It's False who notices Tommy's not right handed.

He's a damn good fighter, as dirty as his shots are and as rough his technique is. Tommy fights like his life depends on it, and in that situation there's no room for fancy footwork or skillful swordplay. But looking impressive is not a requirement for being good at PVP, and the scuffed up teenager is a prime example of that.

Tommy's scars are evidence that he just encountered someone better.

Besides his crude offensive, False notices he's also clumsy. Tommy always draws his weapon with his left, and yes, he switches to his right as soon as it's in his hand, but as sporadic as Tommy likes to be, that doesn't add up.

False sees him get jumped by a creeper, once, and in the miniscule time alloted to attack, Tommy drew and swung with his left. Instinctually.

False then sees him grimace when the creeper explodes, and he drops his weapon to knead his left shoulder. That is when it clicks.

"Tom." False tries to sound casual on break from sparring with the kid the next day, watching him carefully from her periphery while she feigns busying herself with her water bottle.

Tommy grunts in acknowledgment, and False takes a breath.

"How come you always switch to your right when you're fighting?" She treads carefully. Tommy doesn't like it when the hermits pry, and he definitely doesn't like it when they're as observant of him as False is.

Thankfully, it doesn't look like Tommy reads into the question too much. "I'm right handed." He says simply, and False knows it's a lie, but his nonchalance would absolutely fool her if she didn't know the truth.

Now is when False would normally nod, and change the subject. But Tommy's hurting, and a part of her just can't let that go.

"See, you're not." False says lightly, abandoning all pretense. Tommy tenses next to her, more than he already is.

"You draw with your left. You wouldn't do that if you were right handed. Why don't you fight like that?" False asks. She doesn't grill him on how he got hurt, or why he hides it. She's being risky enough as is with her flat-out asking, and she's not certain she'll get an answer from the kid if she pushes any further.

Tommy swallows, and his left hand flexes unconsciously. "It, uh. Hurts." Tommy says. False waits patiently.

"I got hit. There. By a Wither, y'know." Tommy continues, and False finally feels a different emotion than calm worry. Sympathy and slight horror twist in her chest, and she's thankful she doesn't need to speak so Tommy can keep talking.

But he doesn't talk, and instead pulls off his shirt in the most difficult way possible since he moves his left arm as little as he can. False's eyes widen as blackened skin is revealed, spreading over the poor kid's entire left shoulderblade and down his arm and chest, dangerously close to his heart. If False were to touch it, she'd know the skin would be cold and dead, barely hanging on to Tommy's body anymore.

False lets out a horrified breath instead, feeling as if the wind got knocked out of her lungs.

There is no cure for being withered, if you don't have milk on hand directly after a hit. Those marks stay with you for life.

But Tommy is 16. Tommy has barely started his life, and he's already bearing an injury that will last with him until the end of his time. False feels bile rise in her throat. Whether it's cause of grief or anger, she can't tell. All she knows is that Withers aren't made on accident. There is a story here.

A story she has no right to know.

"Gods, Tommy, I'm--I'm sorry." False utters helplessly, because she just doesn't know what else to say. Tommy stiffens.

"Not your fault." He says curtly, his words edged with a familiar tone of sharpness that he takes when he feels someone is taking pity on him. False scrambles to save the situation.

"Scar's had some run ins with a Wither. Impulse, too." False comments, and pretends not to see Tommy's face flicker in surprise.

"I'm sure they have some tips, if you're interested." False continues, holding back the desperation she feels with every drop of willpower she possesses to not scare Tommy off. "You'd be a much better fighter if you could use both hands." She adds gently, and a wave of relief crashes over her as Tommy's eyes light up with recognition of opportunity.

Tommy utters an eerily mischievous laugh that False can't help but smile at. "Ohhh-ho, I'm gonna be so fuckin' powerful--they call me dual blade Innit!! I'm gonna dual blade your ass!"

False laughs out loud at that, the icy horror in her chest loosening for only a moment. "Void help us." She comments sarcastically. "Go on then, see Scar first. He's got magic crystals that I hear are good to help pain."

Tommy's face flickers, so quickly that False barely sees it before it's gone. But the expression was bare exhaustion, a kind of weariness that False has never really seen before.

False could guess that Tommy's been in pain for most of his life. No wonder he's tired. No wonder he nearly overdosed on gapples for the absorption they provided when exposed to the hermit's infinite supply. No wonder he doesn't move quickly unless he has to.

Several things click into place as Tommy pulls his shirt back over his head, and the conclusion leaves a lead weight in False's gut.

It's not her business to know what happened to this boy barely old enough to attend MCC that gave him lifetimes of scars both inside and out. She knows her fellow hermits who have been her friends for years have secrets they will never share, and she's made her peace with that a long time ago. For Tommy, it's no different.

But as False watches him gingerly make his way down from the top of her base to the portal, she just wants to know why that fate was seemingly a deserving one for a child to bear.

END.

[asweetprologue]

deep in the coffin of your chest

Octoberfest 13: Possession (whumptober #15)

Something was wrong. Jaskier knew it instantly, in the way a deer knows when it’s been spotted by a wolf, the way a field mouse feels in the shadow of a hawk. Jaskier was sitting on the other side of the charcoal circle they’d drawn up, finishing the second to last of the runes. It looked like yrden, mostly, just a more permanent trap. Geralt had wanted to snare the wraith for easier dispatch, knowing that the fight would be harder without a talisman to burn. Jaskier helped as much as he was able, looking carefully over the lines Geralt had sketched out in his notebook before moving to fill in the runes on the floor. The smooth marble of the mausoleum accepted the marks easily, neat little lines of soot almost hidden from view. The air was still, the smell of damp stone and faint decay hanging around them. Geralt had finished his own side and looked over the work with a satisfied hum, and then something in his posture had changed. 

He looked the same, was the thing. Nothing had changed. There were no flickering lights, no rush of wind, nothing to indicate that a malevolent force had arrived. But the way Geralt was holding his head was suddenly a little off, his expression when he looked up at Jaskier just a bit too flat. Something wasn’t right. Jaskier had barely one more line to do before the circle was complete, but he hesitated. 

��Geralt?” he said, unsure. “Are you alright?”

It was like a switch being flipped. For a moment, everything was still, Geralt’s face utterly emotionless. And then, in the blink of an eye, rage unlike anything Jaskier had ever seen stole over his features and a growl filled the room. It rumbled through the room like thunder, echoing through the alcoves and into the vaulted ceiling above them. 

Jaskier dropped the charcoal. It clattered softly to the ground near his knee. 

“Geralt, what’s wrong? What -” Jaskier didn’t have time to finish, because Geralt was standing with all the fluid grace of a seasoned witcher and stalking towards him. Jaskier scrambled to his feet, heart pounding. He’d never felt scared of Geralt before, but something about the slow prowl towards him made the long lost prey part of his brain scream run run run! Geralt’s pupils were wide, black entirely swallowing up the lovely gold, and he looked angry. Jaskier turned, seized by a sudden panic, but Geralt closed the distance too quickly. The witcher slammed into him, shoving Jaskier back against the wall hard enough to knock the wind out of him. He floundered for breath as Geralt stepped towards him again, unable to get his bearings before fingers were grabbing his forehead and slamming his head back into the stone wall of the crypt. 

Jaskier’s vision swam. Spots danced in front of his eyes as pain exploded from the back of his skull, instantly making his stomach lurch. He gasped, reeling at the shock of the blow and the betrayal. Geralt would never hurt him. He wouldn’t. But whatever this was, it wasn’t Geralt. Jaskier could tell, squinting at him through watering eyes. Geralt would never look at him with such hatred. “Geralt, snap out of it!” 

There was a blow to his gut, not as hard as Jaskier knew Geralt could deliver but hard enough that he could hear the faint groan of his ribs. It bowled him over, one hand going to cradle his abused stomach while the other blindly reached for Geralt’s shoulder. Seeking support even when it was he who’d dealt the blow. It was a mistake; Geralt grabbed his arm and twisted, tackling Jaskier to the ground. He couldn’t keep his injured head from banging against the floor again, and the repeat impact made Jaskier’s vision go black for a long moment. Huge, warm hands were pinning him down, an ongoing growl reverberating through the chamber. 

Jaskier lashed out, blindly reaching to try and slap Geralt’s face or knee him out of the way. It must have come as a surprise, because both blows landed and the growl stopped with a startled huff of breath. Jaskier blinked his eyes open in time to see the witcher flinch back a bit, fury twisting his features. Seeing an opening, Jaskier tried to wriggle away. His head was swimming, but he tried his best to struggle free of Geralt’s grasp. Whatever was possessing him couldn’t do this. It couldn’t be allowed to use Geralt against him. 

It didn’t matter. Geralt recovered easily and grabbed Jaskier by the leg, pulling him back into place with a snarl. Jaskier met his eyes, looking for any recognition, but was met with hateful indifference. It hurt worse than any of the blows Geralt had rained down on his body, cutting through his chest like a blade. Geralt looked at him with impersonal vehemence, and Jaskier felt despair flood through him. Whatever had Geralt, it had him completely. Jaskier felt hot breath over his jugular as Geralt leaned down, violence in every line of the body above him. He choked on a sob. This was more powerful than either of them. Jaskier was going to die. And if he escaped with his own life, Geralt would be devastated. 

Jaskier's hands came up to clutch at Geralt's back, holding him close even as his body screamed for him to try and fight. His heart was pounding so hard he thought it might burst in his chest. He'd never felt fear like this - Geralt's sharp teeth were inches from Jaskier's neck, ready to tear him open at any moment. Jaskier felt a tear slip down over his cheek, falling back towards his hair. Geralt's entire body was drawn tight above him, shaking. 

"It's okay," Jaskier gasped. He raised a hand to card it desperately through Geralt's hair, his thumb barely brushing over his clenched jaw. "It's okay, Geralt, it's okay. I forgive you. It's not your fault, I forgive you, okay? It's okay. I love you - i-it's okay, I love you, I love you." He was crying, but he tried to put all of his trust in Geralt into the words. Geralt was going to tear himself apart over this, Jaskier knew, and it was almost worse than the fact that he was going to die. 

Geralt's clenched teeth pressed against Jaskier's neck, his lips pulled back in a silent snarl. One quick move and it would be over, Jaskier’s blood spilling across the floor and Geralt’s tongue. His fist slammed down next to Jaskier's head, shaking the ground. 

"It's alright," Jaskier said softly. He leaned his forehead against Geralt's temple, a parody of a lover's embrace. "I love you, Geralt. It's okay."

Geralt shuddered against him, a whine leaving him. He was fighting it, Jaskier realized, pushing back against the thing boiling his blood. It was a moment. A chance. 

The charcoal was still on the floor, inches from his face. 

His only advantage was surprise. Using the hand in Geralt’s hair, Jaskier suddenly pulled as hard as he could, at the same time twisting to shove Geralt’s knee out with his foot. It was a trick Geralt himself had taught him, one only managed successfully in the past because the witcher had allowed it. But this wasn’t Geralt, and the thing inside of the body above him wasn’t ready for it. Too distracted in a silent battle of wills, Geralt tumbled to the side.

Into the circle.

Jaskier scrambled for the charcoal just as Geralt began rising back up on his knees, none of the hesitance present in his face. He - it, whatever was playing host to Geralt’s body right now - was furious, absolute rage contorting his features. It was utterly inhuman. Jaskier threw himself at the edge of the circle, towards his last final rune, just as Geralt lunged forward. One line, a gentle curve, and a tiny dash off the end.

Jaskier held perfectly still, on his hands and knees before the circle. There was a sudden shift in the air, like the pressure change when walking up a mountain, and then Geralt gasped. Jaskier looked up just in time to see a half solidified form stutter out of Geralt’s body, peeling off of him in fits and starts. Geralt staggered when it was done, fumbling a few feet outside of the circle. The thing within lunged for him, but was stopped at the edge with an angry howl. It was no true color, barely there at all, more of a density in the air and a presence before them. So hateful. 

Geralt drew his sword, untouched throughout their own scuffle. It was a simple fight, which Jaskier watched from his slumped position on the marble tiles. Within a moment the creature was gone, dissipating into ash. 

Not a second later Geralt was beside him, sword flung to the side. An arm wrapped around his shoulders, holding him in place, and another came up to cradle the back of his head. Jaskier winced at the throb there, flinching away from the hand. 

Geralt released him immediately, his expression pained. Jaskier swayed towards him without the extra support, catching himself on Geralt’s chest with one wide spread hand. “Sorry,” he said, still feeling woozy. “Hit my head. That didn’t seem like a wraith.”

“Demon,” Geralt said. He reached out again, more hesitantly now, and cupped Jaskier’s jaw. Their eyes met, and Jaskier was relieved to see familiar liquid gold staring back at him. Geralt’s eyebrows were creased in worry, guilt making his features tight. Jaskier spared one brief moment to be intensely glad that he hadn’t died. For both their sake. “You’re hurt,” Geralt said. And then, more quietly, “I hurt you.”

Jaskier huffed, even though the movement hurt his ribs. Definitely bruised. “None of that,” he said, tapping Geralt’s chest. “You didn’t do this. You know that.”

“I could see it. I couldn’t stop. It was so angry, it wanted to hurt you so badly. Why didn’t you fight back?” Geralt asked. He sounded wounded, his other hand coming up to hold Jaskier’s face in his palms. Searching his gaze for answers. “You just… gave up. You said -”

“I said I love you,” Jaskier finished for him, bringing one hand up to curl around Geralt’s wrist. He skimmed his thumb over the pulse point there, soothing. “It’s okay. I didn’t want you to feel guilty.”

“Guilty,” Geral repeated, his voice breaking. “Jaskier, I couldn’t - If you -”

“I know,” Jaskier said. He turned his head just slightly to press a kiss to Geralt’s palm. The movement made his head swim, but Geralt inhaled sharply at the soft brush of lips, so it was well worth it. “I know, darling. I’d never blame you.”

Geralt made a choked sound, and then Jaskier was being pulled into a gentle hug, mindful of his injuries. Geralt tucked him in close, pressing his nose into Jaskier’s throat in an echo of his earlier position. This time, Jaskier had never felt so safe. “I’m sorry,” he rasped out, pressing the words into Jaskier’s skin. “I couldn’t bear to lose you. You must know, that I - You -”

“I do. It’s okay. I know,” Jaskier said. He brushed his fingers gently through Geralt’s hair, trying to sooth the guilty, fearful man before him. Who he loved so dearly. “I love you. I’m not going anywhere.”

Geralt hummed and Jaskier felt the press of slightly chapped lips at his jaw before Geralt pulled back. “Good,” he said, eyes over bright. He glanced over Jaskier’s features and frowned. “Shit. We should get you to a healer.”

“Ah, I’ve had worse after a night of hard drinking,” Jaskier said, offering Geralt a grin. “You aren’t all that tough, at the end of the day.”

Geralt frowned back at him, not rising to the joke. “I was holding it back,” he said absently, moving to run his fingers lightly through Jaskier’s hair. There was a sizable bump there, but Jaskier hadn’t been lying - this wouldn’t be his first knock on the head, nor likely his last. “You’re going to have a concussion.” 

“Good thing I’ve got you to take care of me,” Jaskier said, feeling woozy and bruised but somehow still warm and relieved. They were both alive. That was all he could ask for, at the end of it all. 

He expected to receive an eye roll and a dismissive hum at his remark. Instead Geralt just looked at him with an expression that made Jaskier ache in a too-pleasant way, deep in his chest, before he leaned in to press their lips together so, so gently. “You do,” Geralt mumbled, tipping their foreheads together. “You do.”

[sevendeadlymorons]

Hello! I don't really see many guys who play Obey Me so it's actually kinda interesting to see that. I hope no one has been rude to you.

If you are open to requests- how about one where the MC isn't afraid to pact command the brothers when they want something? Be it a change in their behavior for a bit or for them to do something for them 😏

Hey! Thanks for the concern, everyone has been lovely on here so far, so I’m hoping it’ll stay that way, haha!

But anyway, that sounds like it’ll be fun to write 😏 I haven’t written anything In a while, so excuse the poor writing :)

MC Controls the Demon Boys with Their Pacts

NSFW // Sexual Language

———————————————————

MC has been wanting to be able to use their pacts on the brothers for a little while now. So one day, they decide to pay Solomon a visit...

———————————————————

Lucifer

MC decides today is the day. The day when they finally make Lucifer kneel at their feet. They walk up to Lucifers room and knock on the door, anticipation running through their veins. The door swings open and there stands the one and only avatar of Pride. It was quite late at night so he looked exhausted and quite ready to collapse none the less.

“Ah. MC. What are you doing here so late at night?” He smirked. Looking at him smile like that made their stomach twist into knots and they felt they couldn’t hold back more longer.

“May I come in?” They ask innocently, flashing him a smile and stepping closer inside.

“I don’t see why not..” Lucifer moves to the side to let them in and they smirk at him as they go past, running the plan over in their head to make sure it’s flawless. Lucifer turns round to shut the door but as soon as he does, he feels MC’s hand rub over his shoulder. They could feel him slightly stiffen at the meer touch of them. They lick their lips and lean up towards his ear...

“Lucifer. Lock the door. Now” They whispered seductively in his ear. Visible chills ran down his spine as a subtle click came from the door. Perfect...

“What do you think you’re doing, MC?” He said in a cold but also seductive way, turning around to put his face close to theirs. MC shrugs playfully and wraps their arms around his neck pulling him closer.

“How about you go sit on the bed for me...?” They purr, so close to his lips that they could feel his hot breath against their skin. He obeys his order and walks over to the bed with MC in tow. He pulls them in by the waist but MC pushes him down and straddles him. “I’m in charge tonight, Lucifer..” They plant kisses all down his neck, tangling their hand in his hair and tugging at his clothes. Silent groans escape his throat as he lays motionless underneath MC. They begin to unbutton his shirt as arousal pools in the pit of their stomach. They kiss down towards his navel, looking up at him with lewd eyes. They start meddling with his belt, tugging at it desperately, their eyes not leaving his. A tent building up inside his trousers, and desperation and desire burning in his eyes.

“Please, Master... Keep going”

Mammon

MC was watching Mammon on the floor of their room, most likely selling something he stole from around the house. He looked so happy at something, which made them curious. MC didn’t really plan to do this today but they suppose it was a good moment...

They hopped off the bed and joined him on the floor, startling him slightly, but more or less not the reaction they were looking for. They huffed and playfully rolled on top of Mammon.

“Ey, MC, what do ya think you’re doin’?!” Attempting to wriggle his way out from underneath her, a light pink blush spreading across his cheeks.

“Mammon. Stay!” They spoke harshly, causing him to stop in a halt. MC felt an overwhelming feeling of power rush over them when they stared down at Mammon’s face, so shocked and vulnerable. They wanted more... “Kiss me”

Mammon’s body shot up, crashing into MC’s lips. They instinctively closed their eyes and pressed into the kiss harder, desperate for his touch and the taste of his lips. They ran a hand through his hair, gripping and pulling at it, a growl escaping his lips as his arms wrapped tightly around their waist, pulling them in. MC broke away from the kiss to explore his neck and collar bones. They kissed and sucked every inch, covering him in lovely red bruises, his mouth wide open with moans leaving his throat. MC could feel his heart racing inside his chest, like it was close to exploding, the faint pink blush that was previously covering his face was now replaced with a bright red tint and lustful eyes, like a predator reading to pounce on it’s prey.

They could feel Mammon gradually taking over them, leaning greedily into the kiss, pushing them further back so that he’s almost straddling them. Their name escapes from his lips in a lazy moan as his hands begin to wander underneath their clothes...

“Master... Please... Give me another order”

Levi

Levi had invited MC over for a game night, and was currently sat on the floor, game controller in hand, presumably on the last level on his game. It was somewhat exciting seeing him in his zone. His fingers quick at the buttons and his tongue slightly peeking out of his lips. Unfortunately, it did mean not much attention was on them. They planned to change that...

Usually at this time, Levi was pretty distracted and not really in touch with the world around him, which gave them a perfect opportunity to sneak behind him. MC crawled around to where Levi was sitting and put their hands around his waist, resting their head in the crevice of his neck. Levi continued to play his game so MC decided to test how long it wound take him to notice. They creeped their hands down towards the hem of his shirt, and fingered their way inside, towards his stomach. They felt him jump in surprise and swing his head back to face her

“MC—?!” They cut him off with a kiss, no longer able to resist. The outline of his muscles underneath his shirt, alleviating their desires and overpowering them with lust. They reached a hand towards his jaw, cradling it, pushing his face closer towards them to delve deeper into the kiss. They felt his body go limp from their touch and felt a hand gently touch their hip.

“Levi. Turn and face me.” He didn’t hesitate in obeying his masters orders, and was quickly facing MC, pushing deeper into the kiss, sloppy kisses and tongue included. His hands were placed either side of MC’s thighs and he was already on his knees, leaning over them. For a quick second, for the first time ever, they saw a glance of deep desire and arousement in his eyes. Burning passion as his cheeks grew red and he wandering hands explored more of their body. They wanted more, they wanted him to envelop her body in a tight embrace as he touched them in more erotic places...

“Levi. Stay.” A low whimper formed in his throat as he was forced off them, looking hurt and confused. MC proceeded to crawl up to Levi and place multiple kisses all over his neck, occasionally nibbling his collar bone to hear him groan in pleasure. Their hands wandered over his sweats, tugging and palming at them, causing his breathing to hitch and his face to burn up, his obvious arousal clearly showing. They giggled at his reaction as they licked over a bite mark, causing his head to lean back and moan their name deep in his throat.

“Master, I need you, now...”

Satan

It was quite late at night. MC was having no luck sleeping, so decided to wander around the house a little bit. As they walked past the library, they noticed a lamp was on. They weren’t exactly allowed up past this hour, so they peeked around the corner to check who it is. And there sat Satan, book in hand, tea by his side and a small red lamp dimly lighting the room around him.

MC didn’t plan on going to sleep any time soon, so decided to join Satan for a little while. They silently walked behind him where the couch was sitting and gently wrapped their arms around his neck, hands draped down towards his stomach. His body tensed up but relaxed when he turned around and saw MC, a silent purr leaving his lips from the sudden touch.

“MC? What are you doing up? Can’t sleep?” He asked, grabbing hold of one of MC’s hands and stroking it lightly, a small smile creeping onto his lips at the warmth of it. Just this small amount of affection made MC’s stomach flutter and they were finding it difficult to contain themself. Being alone at night made their situation worsen. “Would you like to join me?” Offering out a book from the pile that sat next to him. MC didn’t answer, their eyes were glued to the gently smile plastered on his lips.

A sudden urge came over them and they leaned down towards his ear, so close, they were positive he could feel their breath on his skin. “Satan. Put the book down.” He quickly obeys his order, placing his book on his knees, MC’s hands still wandering over his stomach and breath radiating across his skin. They reward him with kisses plastering across his neck, turning to his ear to nibble on and sucking the red marks they leave behind. Satan was a flustered mess at this point and was getting riled up by the second. They could feel him squeezing their fingers in arousal and groaning at each mark they leave.

They walk in front of Satan who desperately grabs and claws at their hips to try and get them as close to him as possible, desperation and desire burning in their eyes. A slight ping of wrath as he drags them towards him onto their lap to envelop into a deep passionate kiss. He was rough, and they were both panting seconds into the kiss, breaking away every few moments to take a breather before continuing, even deeper than the last.

Satan was grinding into the kiss now, his arousal obvious in his trousers, poking at them, making the pool in their gut grow larger by the second. “Take off your shirt. Now.” A commanding growl escaped MC’s lips as they felt the never fading smirk on his lips spread wider. Satan breaks the kiss to pull off his shirt, but is immediately back into it as soon as it’s off him, the shirt flung across the floor. MC traces their finger over his abs and grips on tightly to his shoulder, as low moans escape each others lips.

“So... What next, Master?”

Asmo

Asmo had decided that today was a good day to pamper eachother. Just the two of them alone. And honestly, he’s probably more excited about it than they are. You two are sat on the bed together talking about whatever gossip Asmo could think up, because let’s face it, he hears it all, when they had an idea that was sure to make the Avatar of Lust falls to his knees..

Asmo had forgotten about the world around him and just kept on talking about things that MC didn’t exactly understand.. so they decided to spice things up and a bit and make things much more exciting. MC smirks at Asmo as they crawl their way over to him and place a hand right on his thigh.

“Oh, MC, how dirty of you!” He smirks in obvious enjoyment at their sudden move, ready to lean in for a kiss.

“Asmo. Stay.” They weren’t going to let him get what he wants that easily. Asmo stares in disappointment as he obeys his command. MC leans forward towards his neck, pulling down his shirt slightly and licks from his chest, up towards his jaw. A shiver runs up his spine as his body expresses how much this excites him. His hands are already slivering it’s way towards their lower back to tug them closer to his body, his eyes blazing with more lust than usual. He knew what he wanted and he wanted it now...

MC’s hands explored his body, using their finger tips to tickle certain sensitive places. He groans in pleasure as his hands grip tighter to your clothes, desperate for you to relieve him of his heightened arousal. They place 2 fingers underneath his chin as he desperately leans forward to engage in a kiss.

“Kiss me. Now.” Asmo lunges forward and he doesn’t hold back. He’s rough, lewd with desire and a longing to be touched more. Moans escape their lips as his hands trail over their body, discovering new erotic and sensual places. You should know better than to tease the Avatar of Lust...

“Do you like it when I touch you there, Master?”

Beel

MC was staring at the ceiling when they suddenly felt quite hungry. They thought they’d just quickly go downstairs to grab something to eat and then come back up, easy. But as they head down the stairs, muffled clashing noises could be heard in the kitchen. It wasn’t unusual to be heard in this house, especially with Beel around, so when they turned the corner to see none other than Beel helping himself to the fridge, they weren’t exactly surprised and instead snook up behind him to give him a hug.

He let out a sound of surprise at the sudden touch, and looked down to see MC squeezing at his waist. He gave them a sweet smile and offered them a bit of food. “You hungry too? There’s not much left, but I’ll happily share what’s left with you.” He grinned at them and continued to eat. They sighed as they realised they weren’t going to get much of a reaction out of him this way.

They swiftly let go of his waist and looked up at the tall man before them. “Beel. Stop and look at me. Now.” His body obeyed the order he was given and spun around to face them, so MC grabbed his shirt, and pulled him down into a kiss. Beel dazedly stared at them for a few seconds, once again surprised by the sudden affection, before eventually closing his eyes and pressing into the kiss, deepening it. MC’s hands moved from his shirt to his neck as their hands ran through his messy, orange hair, gripping at it suddenly, making him groan against their lips. “Beel. Lift me onto the counter” His hands quickly lifted them up and harshly placed them onto the counter, never once breaking the kiss. It was filled with passion and both their eyes were lust filled, both wanting more. MC’s hands trailed underneath Beel’s shirt, and towards his back, clawing at it slightly.

Beel started to explore MC’s body, making them moan onto his lips as his fingers ran over sensitive areas, sending chills down their spine and arousal form between their legs. He nibbled on their lip, occasionally breaking the kiss to bite down on their neck. His eyes looked so lewd as he stared at MC, begging for permission to go further.

“Master... I want to taste more of you...”

Belphie

It was a peaceful night with Belphie. He’d asked them to stay and sleep with him, which, of course, they agreed to. But they had to get up because they were hungry. So now here they are, standing in the doorway of the attic, Belphie’s soft snores echoing around the room, the sounds of his breathing and the way his chest rose and fell so soothing to them. They couldn’t get enough of it. They walked over to where he was laying. He was cuddled up in several blankets, his arms tightly wrapped around his favourite pillow. MC was going to just get into bed and go to sleep, but they had other plans..

MC places a hand on Belphie’s shoulder and gently shakes him, no reaction. Didn’t surprise them really. MC eventually decides to crawl onto the bed and sit on top of him. They stare down at him, still sleeping softly, completely oblivious. It’s somewhat cute when they think about it. He actually always talks about being woken up by his true loves kiss so... MC licks their lips and leans down towards Belphie’s ear, giving it soft kisses and licking down towards his jaw. He stirs in his sleep and groans, grasping at their waist. They wiggle their hips playfully and chuckle to themself, once again leaning down towards his ear

“Belphie. Wake up. Now” His eyes bleakly open to MC sitting on top of him, a wet sensation along his jaw line. A smirk creeps across his lips as he looks them up and down, not saying a word. He leans forward to kiss them, but MC only pushes him back down again. “Stay, boy.” The heat from their breath tickles his neck and he obeys willingly, but bucks his hips against them smugly, causing them to gasp. They lean down and cock an eyebrow at him before going back to his neck, running their hand through his hair whilst the other runs up and down his leg. He groans and places his hand on their lower back, pulling them forwards slightly.

They move their hand towards his chin and pull it up so he’s looking at them. They tease him for a bit before slowly connecting their lips together, tongues entwining seconds later. Belphie was desperate for any type of touch, every moment that MC touched him, made him want to lose control. MC felt him become erect underneath their crotch, Belphie often grinding his hips into them to get some sort of friction. He moans against their lips from meer touches from them, he was overcome with clear lust and was waiting on his Masters orders on what he should do next.

“Keep going, just like that, Master...”

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Veritaserum Prompt Fic (Part 8)

(Do you ever just stare at something until you hate it? I've definitely done that with the chapter. Oof. You can read the nsfw, extended cut on AO3. Also, this is part 8, so if you haven't read the other parts, you might want to start over on AO3.)

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"I don't like this," Harry hissed at Hermione as he watched the aurors at the Ministry putting Draco in handcuffs.

She sighed, "I know you don't."

"They don't have to do that," he said, "He's not going to run." Draco's face twisted in pain as they wrenched his arms, "Careful," he growled, stepping toward them. "You don't have to hurt him-"

"Harry-" Hermione interrupted.

But Draco beat her to the punch, "It's alright," he said, his eyes holding Harry's. "It's alright," he added softly with a nod before the Aurors shoved him toward the doors where the holding cells were.

Instinctively he took a step to follow but Hermione grabbed his elbow, "Harry," she said in exasperation.

"I don't trust them," he said, turning around to glower at her. "I shouldn't have brought him-"

"Harry," she snapped, "Listen to me," she took his elbow and led him over to the side of the room. "You have no idea what I had to do to get us here, to get them to agree to giving him a trial at all, let alone to get them to give him a trial when he was a fugitive."

"But-"

"I have every precaution in place," she continued, "I have a solid case, and I have stellar record in the court."

"It's not you I don't trust," he protested, "it's the Ministry-"

(Read more below the cut)

She shook her head, "I know. But this is the only way and we both know it." He frowned and she continued, "You need to stop being irrational about this. I know that Draco Malfoy has always gotten under your skin and made you ignore your better judgement but you have to stop listening to him-"

"He's the reason we're here," he said bluntly. "I wanted to stay but he insisted I bring him back. If I hadn't listened to him we'd be eating lunch on the beach and I'd be ordering lemon trees,” he told her, heart twisting painfully at the thought.

She blinked at him then whispered, "Oh, Harry," in that soft, pitying way of hers like she'd just realized exactly what this was about. "You're in love with him."

He nodded miserably.

Hermione sighed and took his hand, "We're going to win."

"I hope you're right."

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They were not going to win.

Harry could feel it in his gut, he could see it on the faces of the members of the Wizengamot as they heard testimonies, as they heard the cases both for and against Draco.

And Draco knew it, too. He sat next to Hermione, back ramrod straight, face carefully blank but Harry could see it in his eyes. The defeat, the acceptance.

When the speaker stood to read the sentencing, Harry's body coiled itself like a spring.

He read the list of charges against Draco and after each he pronounced, "We find the defendant, Draco Lucius Malfoy guilty."

Hermione sat with her jaw dropped in outrage and Harry wished that he could have been even half as surprised as she was at the outcome.

"For these crimes," the speaker continued, "The court sentences Draco Lucius Malfoy to a life sentence in Azkaban prison."

The court room erupted into a flurry of movement, cameras clicking and people talking as they made notes, the aurors started toward Draco and Harry knew he only had a matter of seconds before it was too late.

He stood and vaulted himself over the gate that kept the people watching the trial from those conducting it.

"Oy!" one of the aurors shouted at him but he ignored them and sprinted over to Draco.

"Harry-" Draco started.

"Do you trust me?" Harry asked.

"Of course,” he said without hesitation. “What-" Draco began but that was all he got out before Harry was grasping his elbow and apparating them out of the Ministry. The wards around the court room and ministry itself cracked and shattered like glass as he broke through them, imagining wrapping Draco in extra shields of protection as he did.

When he landed on the beach he was breathless, his body felt battered and sore but they weren't in that court anymore and the relief of being home was sharp and sweet.

"What did you do?" Draco gasped as he dropped to his knees next to him. "Are you alright?" he asked, voice tinged with panic. "Harry."

"Fine," he nodded. "Just winded."

"Then," Draco shoved him, "what. did. you. do?"

"What I had to," he panted, letting his head drop back in the sand as he tried to catch his breath and waited for the pain to subside. "I couldn't let them," he broke off, shaking his head and drawing in another breath, wincing as his rib cage expanded painfully.

"You-" Draco shook his head, "You complete and utter idiot! Take me back! You have to take me back," he said, looking around desperately.

"Never!" Harry protested, standing on wobbly legs. "I told you it wasn't fair. I told you they weren't going to give you a fair trial."

"Harry," the other man repeated, voice shaking as he reached out a trembling hand, "You can't."

"I can," he argued. "I literally just did."

"You have to take me back," Draco begged. "They'll never stop looking for me, they'll burn everything to the ground until they find me."

"They'll never find us here," he replied. "And if they do," he shrugged, "We'll go somewhere else. Hell, I'll start building it now and we'll have a place to take vacations."

"Do you hear yourself?" Draco asked, throwing his hands in the air. "Circe, Harry," he cursed. "What were you thinking?"

He stormed up toward the house knowing that Draco would follow, "What was I thinking? That I couldn't let you spend the rest of your life trapped in a dark, dingy cell with dementors sucking up any shred of joy you might ever think to feel!" Harry slammed the door open, "I was thinking that I couldn't imagine you trapped away from the sunlight, not when I've seen the way you soak up the sun on the beach. I was thinking that I couldn't let all of your gifts go to waste while you rotted away in a cell!" he hollered as he made his way to the bathroom and pulled out a pepper-up potion.

Draco was silent but Harry could feel the weight of Draco's eyes on him as he swallowed the pepper-up potion and ran himself a glass of water. Finally Draco said, "It's not that I'm not grateful, Harry. Salazar knows that I don't want to spend the rest of my life in Azkaban."

"Then why-"

"Think about it!" he exclaimed. "What kind of life are you giving yourself?"

"Don't I get a choice?" Harry asked, taking a step closer to him, "What about what I want?"

Draco shook his head, "You can't possibly want this! You are letting your compulsive need to save people ruin your life. Again."

The words sliced through Harry's core, gutting him. "That's not fair," he whispered.

"Life isn't fair!" he argued. "You know that better than most people. And you can't possibly want to spend the rest of your life away from your family and friends, away from the world you gave up everything to save."

"It's my choice," he replied stubbornly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't want you to play the martyr for me." Draco tugged at his hair in frustration, "I'm telling you that I'm not worth it!"

"I'm in love with you!" Harry finally shouted, all of the fear and adrenaline that he'd kept bottled up inside all morning exploded out of him.

The other man stared at him blankly for a long moment. "What?"

"I am in love with you," he said again.

He shook his head, "You stubborn, wonderful, perfect idiot," he whispered before he threw himself at Harry.

Their bodies and mouths crashed against one another, sharp teeth and tongues, and Harry clenched his fingers in Draco's shirt to drag him even closer. "Draco," he groaned into his mouth as his hands sought more of him, grasping desperately, tugging Draco's shirt from where it was tucked in his trousers so his fingers could slide along the smooth skin of Draco's back.

"Harry," he whimpered, like his name was a prayer. He tipped his head back and Harry's fingers dug into the flesh on his back as his lips and teeth covered Draco's jaw and neck. He arched into Harry, his fingers sliding into his hair as he held him close.

"Please," Harry begged into the soft, warm skin of Draco's neck.

Draco nodded, "Yes. Circe, yes. Harry," he breathed again and surely Harry had never heard his name before this moment because it had never sounded like that. It had never sounded like wonder, and desire, and acceptance before.

"There's no going back from this," Harry said, drawing back to search Draco's face. "You're mine from here on out," he said.

"And you're mine," Draco whispered, brushing his hand over Harry's cheek, thumb rubbing his temple.

"Yours," he promised, relief surging through him at the thought of belonging to the other man. "Yours," he whispered again, cupping Draco's face and kissing him softly, tenderly; pouring out all of the fear of loss, all of the longing, all of the things he'd kept trapped inside.

Draco drew back far enough to let them breathe and look at one another, "I hear you," he whispered.

A chill ran through Harry's entire body as he allowed the facade he'd built to protect himself dissolve, slipping off until there wasn't anything left. Willing Draco to see him, to know him.

"Harry," Draco breathed, his eyes searching for a long moment, "Mine," he whispered again, somehow still uncertain.

"Yours," he vowed, "From now until forever."

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(If you enjoy smut and are 18+, you can read the rest of this chapter on AO3. If not, feel free to stop here! You won't miss any plot.)