#and i just felt like my insides had been hollowed out. like actual tears sprung to my eyes

[meowmeowmessi]

not to be dramatic but it feels as though a family member of mine died or smth lol

[mitsukui]

make it cream | g.w.

Pairing: George Weasley x female reader.

Summary: George finally tastes a bit of his own medicine ━  a sequel to ‘Good Girl’; if you still haven’t read it, I highly recommend you doing it so, because it’ll make so much more sense! (PART 1! + PART 3!)

Word Count: 2,5k (I know this got a little bit long, but take it as a ‘thank you’ present!)

Warnings: smut! Oral sex (male receiving), masturbation (male receiving), dirty talk, edging, cum play, daddy kink, degratation kink.

Disclaimer: none of the pictures used in the edit below belong to me; I simply put them together.

A/N: the amount of support I got from ‘Good Girl’ was insane, you guys! I could never express how grateful I truly am for each and every one of you. Thank you for all the likes, the reblogs, the messages. I hope you enjoy this sequel as much as you enjoyed the first part. Please, leave me some feedback if you feel like it! My askbox is open for your opinions, thoughts and requests. Thank you so much for your time and attention!  ♡

@gecrgesweasley​ thank you so much for giving me permission to use your idea somehow! ✨

Masterlist!

You had grown a bit tired of it. Enough was enough. It was not like you were unhappy with it; most times, you actually enjoyed it enormously. But now, every single time was the same.

It was high time you dominated George Weasley.

The sensations you felt that night still lurked in your body. Images of his big hands lashing out onto your skin still burned in the back of your mind. The warmth of his saliva on your tongue could still be felt whenever you pressed it against the roof of your mouth. Your legs still trembled slightly when you thought of the overstimulation he put you through after he had fucked your face mercilessly.

That night had been the first of many. Before it, you had never had any complaints about your sex life with your boyfriend. He had always shown himself as a caring and thoughtful partner. But you had been relentlessly suspicious of something within him fighting to make its way to the light.

George’s façade concealed how ravenous he truly was in bed.

And his dominating ways had awoken something in you.

You caught yourself wondering during lunch breaks whether you could make him come undone only with your hands. You visited muggle sex shops after work frequently. You spent long, extra minutes in the shower, pleasuring yourself over the thought of degrading him, exactly like he had done to you so many times before.

All you needed was an opportunity, since you already felt confident enough to try a few things on him. All you needed was an opportunity. And, apparently, all the planets aligned on a Saturday night to lend you a helping hand with that.

As usual, he had decided to work on a few things for Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes in the comfort of his flat, where you tended to spend your weekends at. Midnight was slowly approaching, but he was still going over some numbers and projects he had planned with Fred.

You found him in the kitchen, leaning towards the small squared table. He was still in his uniform, and numerous parchments were spread across the place he was working at. One of his hands supported his chin while the other was used to fiercely scribble new considerations about previously discussed topics.

It was funny how he could turn you on doing the most ridiculous things, such as working. George was a very intelligent man, and whenever he poured his brain out into something, you could feel your knees buckling. The way he would share his and Fred’s projects with you without exception was quite cute, too.

But tonight was not about being cute. Tonight was about torturing him and making him beg.

“It’s late. Almost midnight. Let’s go to bed.” Your voice brought him back to reality, and he offered you a weary smile. In your eyes, the way he threw himself into his passions was beautiful; but, once again, you found yourself secretly desiring to help him relieve all of the stress that existed in his body.

“I’m not tired.” He said in a low voice. “And if I don’t have this ready by tomorrow, Fred is gonna kill me.” As he chuckled, he shook his head to himself.

“Well, he’s not anywhere to be seen here, is he?” You raised your eyebrows playfully. A big difference between the twins was that Fred knew how to disconnect from work when their shift was over. But George was different. He used to go for that extra mile quite often. And to you, that was beautiful, too.  “And I know you’re tired. You know I know you like the back of my hand, right?”

You both stared at each other for a little while in silence before laughing softly. He gave up on pretending he was not tired, because deep down inside he knew you were right, and let his body to sink into the chair. His slender fingers loosened his dark amber tie, and your heart instantly skipped a beat.

“If you don’t want to go to bed, just let me do something for you, then.” You suddenly spat out, unable to control your excitement. The universe was right there, offering you a chance to do what you had been dreaming of for a few weeks. “Please.”

“Damn, princess. You know I go crazy when you beg for something.”

Your teeth were pressed gently onto your lower lip right after you whispered a second plead, and your eyes gained a new devious sparkle to them. The heat between you two was soon to elevate, just like that first night.

George spread his legs a bit and patted his muscular thighs, wordlessly telling you to sit on his lap, which you eagerly complied. You wasted no time in settling your body onto his, and pecking his thin lips once.

You reached out for both of his hands, and you swallowed hard at how big they looked when compared to yours, arousal starting to build up in your loins.

Looking intensely at his eyes, you placed one of his hands around your neck. He was fast to give your skin a delicate squeeze but, somehow, you craved for more. So you took his other hand to your lips.

They wrapped around two of his fingers, and your tongue ran over his skin. His exhaustion made his body more sensible than it usually was, and you felt pleased with yourself as soon as he threw his head back. Husky groans began to leave his lips when you started sucking on his fingers hungrily. You hollowed your cheeks, already moving your head up and down and rocking your hips against his body.

You could feel he was about to switch from groans to real moans, but things could not be that easy for him. You pulled his hand away from his mouth, a string of your saliva still connecting him to you. He sighed heavily due to the frustration that now took over his body.

“You are such a little whore.” He was panting slightly as his eyes fell upon you once again, and there was a light flush on his skin. “Daddy needs to teach you a lesson. Good girls always finish what they started. Open your mouth.”

“No.”

A flash of disbelief splashed across his face and it was almost as if the world had stopped for one or two seconds. He was unsure whether he heard you correctly.

His hands got a grip on your hips, his fingers pressing down onto the soft skin hard enough to leave some bruises there. “I said ‘open your mouth’, princess.”

“And I said ‘no’, Daddy.” A smirk appeared on your lips, adrenaline rushing through your veins faster than blood itself. You tilted your head to the side, and used your fingers to play with his tie and the collar of his shirt. “I’m not taking any orders tonight, Daddy. I’m calling the shots, for a change.”

After that, it did not take long until he was completely undressed in front of you, his hands tied to the back of the chair with his own tie, and his hard cock sprung free, laid on his stomach.

You had barely started teasing him, but he was already whimpering for some mercy. His eyes were closed, his eyebrows furrowed, and he felt like bursting into tears any moment now.

It was fun to be dominated instead of dominating, but it was something he was not used to. He did not know how to control his own instincts that well, and he was suffering. His desire was to cum all over your hands, but you said he could only do that when you allowed him to. Painting your entire body with his own seed was something he loved doing, but being unable to do it whenever he wanted to was causing tiny excruciating  fireworks to explode inside his chest.

Your lips brushed against his left thigh, pampering the freckle-stained area with soft and small kisses. You eyed him while making your way up through his body, your mouth soon reaching his crotch for the first time that night.

He felt the warmth of your lips touching his cock ever so slightly, and returned to whimpering. A delicious wave of desire crashed within your body when you tasted the precum that leaked from his tip. However, you allowed your mouth to be restrained to that area only.

George attempted to buck his hips up to thrust into your mouth, but you immediately leaned back. “Now, don’t be a bad boy, Daddy.” The tip of his cock received a new substitute for pleasure without warning: your fingers.

Loud cries echoed in the kitchen as you ran your fingertips gently over his reddened tip. You were deeply mesmerized by his reactions, yet you wanted more.

“Would you like me to suck your dick, Daddy?” You purred, your voice dripping in lust and excitement over your recently discovered dominance. He nodded vehemently. “Would you like to feel my wet and warm tongue running up and down your shaft?”

Those filthy words were leaving your lips easily, and your nails were scratching his skin lightly. “Can you imagine receiving a sloppy blowjob, Daddy? Tears running down my face as your thick dick hits the back of my throat.” You wrapped your hand around him, and pumped him up and down a few times, your pace being terribly slow.

“My saliva getting mixed with your juices and, then, escaping my lips and dripping down my tits.” Your hand moved in a faster pace, but it was not fast enough for him. His chest started rising and falling, pleasure erupting in his body. “And, finally, your hot seed exploding in my mouth. Can you imagine that, Daddy?”

A giggle slipped out of your lips and went straight to his core. His cock twitched in your hand, and you pretended to be surprised. “Oh! You like that, Daddy?” Up until that moment, you had been enchanted by the sight of his tip disappearing and reappearing in your hands. But you finally looked up at him, and you swore you were in heaven.

George had his eyes closed, a thin layer of sweat covering his forehead. He was tirelessly trying to free his own hands. Even though his lips were apart and trying to say something, nothing was coming out of them.

“You know how much I love to have you in my mouth. You fill me up so well, Daddy! You are so thick, so big, and so veiny.” A little peck was laid on his tip, and his muscles tensed up as he tried again to be freed from the restrains on his wrists.

You finally put an end to his suffering and took all of him at once, his cock indeed hitting the back of your throat. You gagged and tears welled up to your eyes, but you persisted. Pushing your head even further down, you heard him moaning your name.

He was in sheer ecstasy. You carried on sucking him hungrily, and his needy whimpers did not cease. There was something about the way your bodies connected: he fit perfectly into your mouth, and he felt your touch could work wonders on him. Among so many lustful feelings and thoughts, he realized he was hopelessly in love with you.

“I-I’m close, princess.” His back arched a bit, and he groaned loudly. “Don’t stop.”

But you did. You stopped without thinking twice. And he cried out loud, frustration coloring his veins again. George tried to form coherent sentences to express his discontent, but it was difficult to think straight.

“You’re pathetic, Daddy. What do you think people would say if they saw you like that?” His thighs were splattered with delicate kisses like before. His breath was uneven, and he cleared his throat. Your words resonated through your surroundings, but he did not feel embarrassed at all. In fact, he was enjoying this far more than he expected.

“I reckon you are a whore. My whore, Daddy.”

Your fingers danced against his wet tip repeatedly while your other hand gently cupped his balls. His legs trembled violently due to the extra pressure you put onto his sensible tip. He warned you he was close to releasing one more time, but you stopped your movements again.

Your boyfriend mewled shamelessly, sounding like a desperate kitten. It was the second time you were edging him after a long session of teasing, and you could tell he was aching. The veins in his cock were prominent, and his tip was now taken by a dark reddish shade.

“All you have to do is beg, Daddy. I know you can do it.”

“P-Please, princess. Let me cum. I don’t know if I can take it anymore.” The tiredness he had endured all this time became evident on his voice, and you almost felt sorry for him.

He was a hot mess. Sweat dripped from his face, strength no longer existed within him to fight against the wrists restrains, and agony was the only visible feeling on his handsome face.

With a fond smile on your lips, you ordered him to cum for his princess as you pumped his cock in your hands for the last time. When he warned you about his release being close, you let go of his big shaft and watched it as it landed on his stomach.

You whispered dirty nothings as your hands ran up and down his body, and it did not take long for him to feel his orgasm being expelled from his tip. Thick strings of his seed covered the skin on his own stomach.

That was a sight to be proud of.

You moved your body closer to his, at last removing your knees from the cold kitchen floor. Trying to soothe him a bit more, you used your hands to caress the sides of his body that still trembled slightly. Without warning, your tongue collected all of his cum into your mouth. He felt your tongue running up and down, side to side, over his abs, and his torso jolted in overstimulation.

His taste was amazing to you, and you felt incredibly close to him by doing that. You, then, realized you were hopelessly in love with him as well.

With a tad of effort, you finally stood up properly. Your intimate moment had taken its toll on you, too. Knees were sore, legs were weak, and throat was slightly sore.

You leaned down towards his face, and his eyes confessed he could not take any more bit of teasing. Your thumbs stroked his cheek bones, signaling it was really over now. But you still squished his cheeks gently, and his lips opened only for you.

His own cum was soon deposited in his mouth, and he moaned at the new sensation. You brushed your tongue against his lips and, once you were free to talk again, you did. Your voice came out like a hoarse murmur, but George thought it was incredibly sensual.

“Can you swallow it, Daddy?” Your fingers continued on caressing his skin and he nodded weakly, your eyes watching him swallow his own release. “You’re such a good boy.”

“I’m going to fucking destroy you next time, princess.”

“Bring it on, Daddy.”

[wesimpforxiao]

Say My Name and I’ll Be There:  6.4

"What did you mean when you said they didn't escape?"  You had noticed Xiao's eyes never left the bird when he spoke to you, and finally realized the stupid piece of scrap metal was more than a knocking device.  When it had hopped to the other end of the hall you decided to take a shot and ask Xiao again.

"I meant exactly what I said," his eyes finally met yours.

"W-What? But--"  Movement near his legs attracted your attention and you saw that he was drawing letters on the tile's surface with the pad of his finger.  You watched him intently.

"All is not as it seems."

"Hm?"  Your brain hurt just trying to decipher it's meaning.  He gave you a final warning look before facing straight ahead again.

"Food."  A Fatui agent slid your tray beneath the door.  He glanced at the yaksha, but walked away without saying anything else.

You dragged the tray over so that it sat in front of the two of you.  "Would you like to eat something?"

"You know I can't stomach human food."  He pushed the tray over to you.  It was then that he noticed just how hollow your cheeks were, and the way your collarbones stuck out from your chest.  "Eat."

"I'll pass."  You watched his eyes narrow at you.

"Eat."  This time he shifted so he was facing you head-on.  "There's no point in starving yourself here."

"They can't achieve their agenda if I'm dead."

"They already have your blood samples.  They won't care if you die as long as they have me. So eat."

"But you could just break out of here if I die!"  You had only meant the words as a half-joke, but your vision was obscured by tears.  "I-if I die on my own accord, you won't have to worry about hurting me.  That's why you haven't done it, right?  That's why you haven't broken the seal, because you don't want another person's blood on your hands?"

Xiao observed you carefully before releasing a sigh.  His eyes cast downward and landed on his gloves, overturning his hands as he envisioned them coated in the blood of his comrades and enemies alike.  "Do you truly no longer care for your own life?"

"I'd rather die at my own hands than let them kill me."

"What about returning to Qingce Village?  Or seeing the Lantern Rite?"  He raised his gaze to you again.  "You were looking forward to that as far as I remember."

"It's like Childe said," you mumbled.  "There's no future even if we both escape."

"Childe?" His eyes narrowed and his voice was tinged with anger.  "Don't believe the things he's told you.  He's--"

"Why? He's right about this," you choked out.  "Even if we get out, they'll always chase after us...we can't hide forever, and..."  I'll always be chasing after the love of an adeptus.  

"There's no need to fear such things." Xiao eyed you carefully before scooting closer to you so that your knees were touching his.  He gingerly placed a hand at the nape of your neck and pulled you close.  His thumb gently rubbed against your skin.

"Heh," a small chuckle left your lips and caught the adeptus off guard.  

"What?"

"It's just...You did this before."  A warm smile crossed your lips, and Xiao frowned slightly at the myriad expressions you kept making.  He couldn't keep up with your feelings; you switched between them so fast.

You're still this strange after all this torment?  He was about to make the comment when you grabbed the hand that sat atop your neck and brought it forward.  Your gaze dropped as you enveloped his hand with the two of yours, stroking the plate that encased the top of his glove.  

Sooner or later, I'm going to die and it'll probably be in this cursed cell.  But...I can't say I'm ungrateful for the moments I've known Xiao or for his rescuing of me when I was a child.  It's a privilege to know him...but he will forget about me sooner or later, just as Childe said.  But even still, I can't help but...

Your touch was so...gentle.  Soft, even.  Xiao short-circuited and froze as he contemplated the gesture. What was its meaning? No one had ever done this with him before.  It was weird.  Too weird.  "Your body requires nutrition to function.  So eat it."  Xiao abruptly pulled his hand out of your grasp and handed you the tray of food.

When all you did was stare at the tray with a conflicted expression, the yaksha sighed in annoyance and grabbed the spoon.  He scooped up some of the rice and held it out to you.  Your blushing reaction wasn't what he expected.  "T-this is too embarrassing!"  You covered your face with your hands and shook your head.

"If you won't eat, I'll force you to."

"EH?!"  You peeked out from behind your fingers and saw that he was completely serious on doing what he said.  "F-fine."  You took the spoon from his hand and hesitantly brought it to your mouth, mindful that he was intent on watching you until you finished the plate.

........................................................

"Xiao!" You sprung up into a sitting position and gasped for a breath of air.  

"It's been some time since I've seen you awaken from a nightmare."  Xiao scooted a little closer to you and noticed there were tears brimming your eyes.

"I thought I--"  Your cheeks suddenly dampened from the onslaught of tears.  Your throat clenched up as you recalled the horrific dream.

"You're alive and here."

"No," you shook your head.  "I-I thought..."  Your exhausted body gently slid back onto the floor as your eyes fought hard to remain open.  "I thought you..."

I thought I lost you, your tired inner voice reached his ears.  Xiao watched you slide your hand toward him as you fell back asleep, almost as if keeping it near him somehow gave you comfort.  Your eyelids finally closed, and he continued to stare at your outstretched bony hand that rested atop the tile floor.  He's here, thank the archons he's right here, your unconscious thoughts continued to flow into him.  ...right...here...

Xiao wasn't sure how much time passed as he continued to watch you sleep.  His eyes always returned to your hand, following its outlines and grooves, from the tips of your fingers to your wrist.  She's been holding back on praying to me this entire week, yet she holds fear of losing a yaksha?  Xiao furrowed his brows as he contemplated your thoughts.  Why is a human so worried about my wellbeing?  Her and Aether both. He shook his head in an effort to rid his mind of what was probably some sort of human compassion for you.  Humans are difficult to comprehend, he dismissed.

Your eyes opened slightly to look at him, and he noticed.  You weren't awake, but your eyes glowed nevertheless as his inner turmoil somehow found its way into the depths of your mind. 'Perhaps you face and accept what is in your heart...and you will understand the meaning of my words.' Zhongli's advice was brought to the forefront of Xiao's mind as he watched your eyelids close again.

I hate this, the yaksha grumbled to himself.  A small sigh left his lips, and his gaze fell to your outstretched hand once more.  He had a feeling that this past week would have a lasting effect on you, and you probably wouldn't be the same person after the two of you escape this hell.  Something inside you was slowly breaking; he felt the despair and desperation in your daily prayers to him.  It reminded him of himself so many centuries ago.

'You best be sure to share them before they fall on the ears of an early grave.'  The yaksha rolled his eyes as he remembered another one of Zhongli's lines.  But...he's not wrong.  His agreement with the archon's words was already a big enough struggle; he couldn't imagine actually acknowledging and accepting his own feelings.  He continued to watch you, his expression hardening as he fell deeper into his thoughts.  Human minds are fragile.  She could break and come out stronger; she could break and become like me, or...she'll shatter completely.  My feelings may not reach her if the latter happens.

After thinking this and continuing the internal struggle for a bit longer, he finally placed his hand beside yours, fingertips barely touching fingertips.

..........................................

Xiao glared at the handcuffs that restrained him when he caught sight of the exact same seal that prevented him from breaking out of his cell.  The harbingers must've done a lot of research in order to obtain him.  He was forced to walk behind you after being blindfolded.

Unlike him, you were allowed to see where you were walking.  Apparently Dottore had thought of you more as a pest than a serious threat.  Not that you were offended, though; you were a pest without a vision.  Fighting was useless, and your only chance of escape was crushed in the damned Tsaritsa's hands.  Now that Xiao was here, it was your priority to get him to escape while he could.

'Out there, you will not survive.' Childe's words ringed in your ears much like a mosquito.

Speaking of which, here was the man himself, in the middle of Dottore's arena and accompanied by another harbinger you had seen in the Tsaritsa's throne room several days ago.  He was much shorter than Childe, more around your and Xiao's height.  He wore a strange outfit too, with the likes of an umbrella for a hat and shorts of all things in a literal winter wonderland.  You had the guts to stifle a laugh, and he glared harshly at you.

"You're walking just fine after being injected so much," Dottore held a strange grin and nodded to himself.  "Just as the Tsaritsa thought; healing abilities would be drastically increased along with the lifespan of the human in question.  Interesting.  Now then!"  He clapped his hands and signaled for the guards to halt your and Xiao's movements.  They finally removed the cloth from around his eyes.

"This here is the sixth harbinger, Scaramouche," greeted Childe.  Even he seemed to find amusement in his co-worker's height, a rare glint of joy in his eyes that quickly darkened when Scaramouche caught onto the glee in his voice.

"He will be in charge of testing your fighting capabilities," Dottore answered your confused expression with a thin smile.

"Fighting capabilities?"  The guard unclasped the cuffs around your wrists.  "I don't--"

"Another lie!" Dottore rolled his eyes and scoffed.  "Childe reported you fight much like this yaksha, correct?"  The harbinger nodded in confirmation.  "Now I sincerely doubt an amateur such as yourself would be able to wield a lance so proficiently when all you were learning to wield was a sword."  He nodded to Scaramouche.

"I'll break her in," he spoke almost to himself, and tossed you a metal staff that hung from a rack of weapons to the left of the arena.

The guards escorted Xiao to the right of the room, and Childe joined him.  He leaned down slightly and placed a firm grip on the yaksha's shoulder.  "My orders are to kill you if you try anything."

I sincerely doubt you could, Xiao thought to himself as he watched you catch the staff.  Your worried inward voice reached his ears, and he met your gaze without nodding.  This is...wrong, he watched Scaramouche assume a fighting stance.

"Fight me," the harbinger ordered.

Xiao?  Your eyes met the yaksha's, and much to your dismay, his expression was unreadable.  You didn't want to fight anyone if it were for the sake of this sickening research.  Your stare fell to the metal in your hands as you absently stroked it.

"Are you deaf, or just stupid?" The harbinger spat out.  "Follow my orders."

You dared to look up at the harbinger and in an act of defiance, struck one end of the metal polearm onto the tile floor.  The ringing accentuated your now-glowing eyes.  "No."

"'No?'"  A light scoff escaped his curled lips.  

Childe's grip on Xiao's shoulder tightened immensely.  "She's made quite the mistake this time," he whistled.  Even the guards tightened their hold on the yaksha in preparation for what's to come.

"No," you repeated in a firm tone.  Your irises shone brighter.  "I don't want to."

"You don't want to?" Something snapped in the harbinger, and he threw himself at you with a catalyst in his hand.  A bolt of electricity hit the staff as you attempted to block his advance, and it instantly jarred your bones.

"Urk!"  Your back collided into the back wall of the arena.  Your body fell to its knees, your limbs violently twitching from his attack.  Xiao was also struggling a bit, but he breathed through the pain.  After all, he could handle more pain than your mortal body ever could.  "Hah.."  You started to get up even though your legs shook like jelly.

"I didn't say you could get up!" Scaramouche landed a hard kick to your stomach, and your head hit the wall again.  When you caught a glimpse of his face, it terrified you.  His eyes were pure malice, pure insanity.  They were cruel, and much more than Childe's ever were. The disregard for human life was on par with Dottore's.  Scaramouche yanked you to your feet by the collar of your shirt and slammed you into the wall again with a hand at your throat.  "When I give you an order, you follow it. Now do what you're told."

He backed off of you and let you pick the staff up again.  You wiped the blood away from the corner of your mouth and snuck a gaze at Xiao, remembering that he was feeling the exact pain you were.  Do I fight him? Your eyes wavered with conflict as you glanced back and forth between the harbinger and the yaksha.

This feels wrong, Xiao's conflicted thoughts plagued his decision of answering your question with a nod or  shake of the head.  I can't ask her to fight like this, but I can't ask that she avoid it either.  Both conclude with us battered and beaten--wait.  His brows furrowed at you.  Is she...trying to protect me?  Again?  A yaksha, who's known nothing but pain and death and can come out unscathed?  She's prioritizing me over her mortal self?  

Your gaze had long since removed itself from the yaksha, and you eyed the harbinger carefully while you twirled the polearm in your hands.  This man intentionally chose a pure metal object as my weapon so he could just electrocute me whenever he wanted.  Your shoulders shrunk back at this as you realized the true intents behind this 'exercise.'  One, to torture.  Two, to see if they can make you snap and prove their theories right.

You sure as hell weren't going to let them push you around if it was going to hurt Xiao.

................................

Coming up:  Attempted escape.  A couple more Xiao x reader moments ;)

[80s4life]

Until We Meet Again”

Word Count: 1,353

Status: Not Requested!

A/N: This is completely off from the movie, like, it has nothing to do with the story line. It was just a little something when I got in my feels. I might make a part 2 depending on the hype and whether or not this was actually like lol.

Fandom: The Expendables 2010-2014

Relationship: Tool x Reader

Summary: When the reader has an unexpected turn of events, they realize all the things they’ve never done, and some of the things they should’ve done. Will they make it out or will they never get the chance?

Warnings: angst, regrets, blood, assumed death, Reader is shot, blood loss, violence mentioned, language, VERY SAD (I warned you)

Taglist: @snapessecretdiary ( @one-boring-person​ cuz u love expendables)

Masterlist Expendables Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits to @hellofagirl​}

People say that, when death happens, your life flashes before your eyes, giving you a slideshow of all the good, the bad, and the downright dirty. Usually, when this happens, regrets and prideful moments occur, making you either want to keep time the way it is or change it in some way, making you burn inside. It is also common for you to die peacefully, surrounded by the ones you love, whether it be of old age or other natural causes. All the people you want, there and supporting you throughout your final hurrah.

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the case for you, you were not one of those people to die of natural causes or simply old age. You weren’t even surrounded by any of the people you loved. You were just a nobody, someone that was used at other people’s expense, used to kill and terminate any threats and rescue what’s stolen or held unlawfully. 

Hence your group’s name, The Expendables. Highly trained mercenaries, veterans, and weapons experts used to do as you do best.

You were on a mission with them when your worst nightmare occurred, it being thoughtfully planned and kinks worked out days prior, giving you preparation as multiple other missions had time and time again. Just like any of the jobs you took with the team.

The objective was to take down a newly popular mafia, not unusual to you, the mafia not being too strong or big of a family just yet. However, when finally on the battlefield, you, along with the rest of the team; Barney Ross, Lee Christmas, Hale Caesar, Gunnar Jensen, Toll Road, and Yin Yang, had noticed just how wrong the mission truly was.

It was a set-up, one put in place by your highly unidentified employers, sent to tear your one-of-a-kind, intelligent family apart from what it was. You weren’t very fond to your past enemies, taking them out, ruining their plans, and destroying what could’ve been years of work to put together. This had led to many menacing opponents.

Barney, your leader, had sprung to action quickly, splitting us off and protecting us, being the amazing leader he was. Something you never got to fully acknowledge at times, sometimes being so pissed, you didn’t care if you had threatened his superiority or level of expertise. Hurting his feelings immensely.

The mission had gone fairly well for a while, working hand-in-hand with one another, tag-teaming with your brothers at separate times, given your unexpected predicament and disadvantage.

This was until you had managed to unknowingly cut yourself far from the group of mercenaries, having to run from a silent assailant wielding knives. Running underneath an archway, scared and exhausted, you felt your legs, abdomen, and lungs burn as the only missions in mind now were to get to safety and come home to the one you love undeterred. 

Only time would tell if these were going to be successfully accomplished.

You duck and weave through crates and buildings, running through a small town, but quickly run out of options as you draw yourself into a massive clearing. You scream over the comms, turning your mic on, asking for help, anyone, anything.

But they were too far away, rushing as fast as they could, wanting none other than to be at your side, fighting off anything that were to threaten you. You were their sister, whether it be blood or in arms, you were family and connected as one.

You spin on your heels, looking for a way out, but find nothing. Nothing to protect you or hide away in.  Nothing to just get you out. Accepting your fate, you decide this is it, facing your pursuer now, hands above your head in an attempt of surrender. The surrender goes unanswered though, unaccepted, your attacker pulling a gun from his waist band, shooting you square in the chest, not giving you a chance. 

Walking now, the killer comes to your side, body encased in a pool of blood, seeping into your clothing. Deciding his job is done, he lowers his gun, looking you in the eyes before disappearing into the distance, concluding that a slow death was the best revenge. 

All you do is lay there, unmoving, your mic still on and blaring with the voices of your team, concern and anger lacing their tones. You do not answer however, motivating Yin Yang to track your location from his keypad, Caesar and Toll deciding that bullets weren’t enough anymore, throwing grenades and bombs instead, killing the multiples. Barney, Lee, and Gunnar finishing the last of the survivors off, the full team hurrying to get to you from all different directions.

Gunnar is the first to find you, pumping his long legs harder now as he fears the worst, knowing this situation is a close two-end street, your chances slimming by the minute. Lee and Barney file in a moment later, followed by Toll, Yin Yang, and soon, Caesar. 

All you can do is stare, lovingly, regrettably, and solemnly all at once, knowing there is so much to say but not enough time to do so. So you told them, as quickly as physically possible, the blood now rushing into your lungs and mouth. You told them what you loved most, what you had regretted saying or doing, knowing the full effect of the past now.

And, when the pain gets to its worst factor, you turn to face Barney, him knowing you the most. “The pink book,” you choke out, Barney knowing exactly what you were referring to, “Give it to Tool for me, will ya’? There’s so much I haven’t told him, and just about everything should be in there.”

“Yeah,” Barney answers, his voice fading now, tears in his eyes, “Yeah, I’ll give it to him. I know what ya’ want, and I’ll send the message. You’ve always had a better way of speakin’ than me, and I think he’d like if you came back home in one piece, Kid. Just focus on stayin’ awake for me for now though, okay?” The last of his sentence comes out choked, tears now pouring from his eyes. Tears pooling from all of the men now, knowing that your fate is nearing its end.

“I love you guys...Always know that okay? Keep it with ya’,” I say, my body now feeling immensely lighter than any high could’ve.

“Yer not dyin’ on us Y/N...Ya’ can’t!” Gunnar yells, his emotional defense kicking in as his way of coping. “Yer supposed to be here always-”

All you can do is watch, tears of your own flowing in waves down the corners of yours eyes, rounding my eye cheek bones, slipping down towards my ears, and falling in delicate puddles. They’re all falling apart, and there’s nothing anyone can do to help it. Instead, you weakly motion your hands, grabbing one of Barney’s and Gunnar’s, the rest motioning to either hold onto one another or a limb of your body, such as your knees or legs.

As your vision starts to fade, and the familiar faces of your family dim and disappear, the last face you see is one that wasn’t there. One who will never know what would’ve happened until the group returns home, your body being held within their own arms. Tool. The most talented, artistic, and loving man of my dreams, will never know the full extent of your passion for him. And now, as darkness overcomes you, your last final regret lies on him, your last tears shedding from your eyes. Closing them, seeing the darkness, and feeling the last bit of your being being lifted, no longer seeing or feeling anything. Just black.

Whoever said death was a pleasant goodbye never really understood all of what leaves with the hollow body of a once joyful, full of life person. The regrets, stories, love, and connections staying remnant within them and never truly leaving even when they are no longer visible. For even as they part, the people who knew them now are haunted and reminded of a person no one will ever see again. Never have the beauty of knowing just like they had.

That is, until they part ways as well. 

Until then, it is just a bittersweet goodbye.

[bang-fantansies]

Sasaeng BTS Profiles: Yoongi Edition

Warning: Heavy mentions/implications of suicide, mentions/implications of overdosing on medication, insomnia, unhealthy behaviour, obsessive behaviour, poor mental health, self-denefse killing, homelessness, nightmares, mention/implications of side-character being drunk, death, blood, gore, destruction of evidence, crime, profanity.

I did my best to include any triggering topics mentioned in this post, but if you see any more potentially sensitive topics I may have missed, please let me know!

This does not represent Bangtan as people or a business, nor does it represent anyone/anything associated with them. This is purely fictional and was made for entertainment purposes only; not to slander anyone or any company.

Mental Stability: 3/10

2:50 AM.

As was the same battle every night, Yoongi lay in bed, the whole world sleeping apart from him. He couldn’t help it, of course - believe me, he would if he could - and this was what made the thoughts in his head run wild.

Each thought had a voice, all unique to their varying degrees of uselessness, yet the message they chanted was identical.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they cried. They’d grown louder over the years as Yoongi’s insomnia worsened, and in spite of their efforts to help their master, they did the complete opposite.

That dream - red and monstrous - drowned out any measure of volume the voices could hope to muster. 

The sound of a man gargling with his own blood made Yoongi feel as if he was suffocating, and more often than not he’d jolt up in bed, forced to replay the events of his early adult years.

Before finding his current residence, Yoongi had been forced onto the streets by unjust circumstances, leading to a great deal of situations he’d rather keep buried beneath the layers of his memory.

One such situation involved another homeless man - drunk, Yoongi had assumed - competing with Yoongi for a bottle of liquor he had scored.

Yoongi’s only use for such a thing was to sell it off and use the money to find a cheap room and a meal. But his opponent had refused to accept such nonsense.

“Such fine wine shouldn’t go to waste!” Yoongi could still hear him say, voice ringing in his ears.

“And it won’t if you just let me pass, you stupid old prick.”

In short, the drunkard had taken Yoongi’s tone very personally and caused his own demise by making a haphazard attempt on the younger’s life, resulting in having the bottle of wine he oh-so desired slammed into the side of his head, shattering and giving Yoongi a sharp enough tool to puncture his throat with. 

Yoongi fled the scene not long after, keeping the remains of the bottle to hand until he could destroy the evidence later on.

Nowadays, while he was far from sleeping rough, he hardly slept at all for fear of his actions whispering cruel and dark remarks into his ear.

As it would for most, this took its toll on Yoongi’s health; physical, emotional, and mental.

The pressure had proven to be too much for him to handle, and on this night, he had decided he’d had enough.

On his computer desk stood a bottle, a proud shade of orange with its contents revealed in a cluster of black ink, made to resemble actual handwriting, written across a label stuck to its front - the only semblance of privacy Yoongi was allowed. Its white cap was ajar, and though no scent came from within, Yoongi could practically smell the prescription enticing him to a snack.

And under normal circumstances, he would have declined as he had many a time before. 

But these were no longer normal circumstances.

Yoongi rose from beneath the bed sheets, any semblance of humanity he’s once held having burnt out alongside his will to continue.

He knew what it meant to live - to love the act of being human - but he was no longer human. He most similarly resembled a shell; cold, hollow, and filled with the shadows of his own mind.

And so he had made his decision. Despite his lethargy shackling him to the bed, he made a reach for the bottle, popping off the cap and peering inside.

A glass of water sat on his bedside table, bubbles sticking to the water-covered walls as a result of disuse.

Yoongi counted the pills, assuming that the amount he was left with would be enough.

At this point, he figured that if he was to find no rest in life, he would surely find it in whatever lay beyond his broken, mortal body.

In these last moments, Yoongi granted himself his last comfort.

He brought his laptop beside him and searched his favourite artist on YouTube.

He only had a few artists in his arsenal that he could dispense at family dinners or reunions he’d been invited to.

he never was an adept conversationalist: even at friends’ parties where a guest he didn’t know would be obligated to talk to him on account of appeasing the birthday girl or boy.

For a second, Yoongi faltered.

His mind backtracked to the joy he’d felt with his friends, and in turn the joy he had granted them.

Was he really going through with this...?

A stab of doubt was all it would take to make Yoongi withdraw from his initial intentions, and he cut the tie with said doubt immediately, pushing his friends to the back of his mind.

He was exhausted - tired of helping and appealing to others; now it was time to take care of himself.

From the tiny speaker in his laptop came the sound of solace: his favourite track from his idol.

He lay back, pill bottle and water placed on his bedside table as he basked in his last melody.

Through the duration of the song, Yoongi’s unease had worn away - eroded by the tides of his own resolution.

The song eventually clambered to a fading finish. Yoongi knew what came next.

He sat up and tipped the contents of the bottle onto the table, a hill of oddly-coloured tablets forming.

He threw the bottle somewhere behind him, hearing it land in a hidden corner of the room.

Pale hands scooped the pills up like candy, bringing them to Yoongi’s lips.

And like a saving grace emerging through a storm, a miracle unfolded.

A soft sound played beside him; the sound of angel wings and promises of a better future.

Yoongi didn’t so much as falter as he did pause, lending his ear to the tune.

It played notes from an instrument Yoongi didn’t even think existed - a soft twinkling stalked by a voice he had yet to have heard on his musical voyages through Soundcloud and YouTube.

For a second - just a second - the doubt that had made such a ruckus to enter had now slithered through the back door of Yoongi’s mind.

What was this music?

Reluctant, he lowered his hand to his side, though held tightly on to the pills.

Turning the screen to face him, he came face-to-face with someone other than his idol.

Her eyes looked a soft shade of (e/c) in the no-doubt filtered lighting of the video, though the sincerity she held within them was far from fabricated.

The background was crystalline - faux crystal props - oversized and oversaturated. They were littered around the studio in which the woman sang, and beneath a purple hue she sat on a stool, an air of comfort radiating from her.

As to what she was singing, Yoongi had no idea.

He let the music play for a moment, considering his options.

What harm would it do him to listen to something new? It wasn’t as if he’d be able to after he was gone, anyway.

Lying back down, Yoongi stared at the ceiling, the lack of light or patterns making it easier for him to focus solely on the music.

His fatigue embraced him like a long-lost mother, shrouding him in a warmth unmatched by that of any real person.

The singer’s soft humming filled the desolate room. And if Yoongi wasn’t mistaken, he could feel his eyelids growing heavy.

He forced a bitter smile, doubtful that his mind would actually allow him any such solace as sleep.

To humour his weary self one last time, Yoongi shut his eyes, sighing deeply and sinking into the mattress.

*

The next time Yoongi opened his eyes, his room was still dark. And as if it had never left to begin with, his bitter smile returned.

I knew it, he thought. Though the victory of beating his already hell-level expectations filled his overflowing spirit with grief, disguised and diluted by the anger that had slipped into the mix so long ago.

Sitting up, Yoongi lent his ear to the room once more.

He could hear the soft hum of the woman’s song no longer, and it was in this second that he realised he didn’t remember actually hearing the song end.

It was on one minute, and off the next.

Suspicious, Yoongi glanced at his half-lidded laptop, faced with a blackened screen as the device had switched itself off.

With a push of the power button, the power returned, and in a blast of light the screen sprung to life.

Through the tips of his fringe, Yoongi checked the time.

11:15 AM.

He recoiled.

That couldn’t be right - surely.

Logging in, he noted how his battery was running low, despite having been fully charged before he lay down.

The screen gave way to the last application he’s been using, and clear as day the same starry-eyed woman with the voice of velvet was on-screen, though the video she was in had long since ended.

Yoongi checked the time again, pulling his fringe back so as not to trick himself a second time.

11:16 stared back at him, steadfast and unwavering in its absolution.

Yoongi’s eyebrows raised in a sense of alarm.

He rose from the bed, tearing his curtains open.

A cityscape greeted him, and the sun waved from its fixture in the sky. It was daytime.

Yoongi stumbled back, carding a hand through his hair.

There was absolutely no way he’d-

...Had he actually managed to get to sleep?

Yoongi checked his phone, watch, and alarm clock; no-one dared deceive him of date nor time.

He was willing (and already considering) to accept the idea that he’d time-traveled; the concept of having a decent night’s sleep was as foreign as a language to him.

Nevertheless, he hadn’t the time to dawdle in such a concept, though he made absolute certain to when he was at work.

*

His colleagues seemed to notice a change in Yoongi’s behaviour.

Though he was often dazed into bouts of silence by his exhaustion, this quietude was new. Different.

A few co-workers commented on how he looked much livelier. And more alive, he felt.

In spite of this, the constant what-ifs of the morning had followed him - clung to him like a cologne.

What if...what if he was actually dead?

He considered this, deciding against his theory.

If he was dead and this was indeed Heaven, he should be receiving a lot more good fortune for all the shit he had to deal with in his life.

No, this was neither Hesven nor Hell. Or Purgatory.

Yoongi also considered that he was in a coma, but that didn’t add up, either.

He tested to see if he was comatose. Nothing.

He was still trapped in his same-old reality. But at least he could think clearly now.

*

By the time he got home, his body yearned for the sweet release of music, and he sought the comfort of his favourite artist - as he usually did on days as long as this.

Shoving his bedroom door open, he grumbled at the brightness the room held for a change.

He’d forgotten to shut his curtains before he left.

In the dwindling light of the afternoon sun, he saw the pills scattered across his duvet, the sole remnants of his almost-actions.

He cringed, forcing them to the back of his mind.

He could acknowledge the gravity of his decision later. Right now, his head was filled with the phantom melodies longing for a vessel.

Yoongi has attained the good sense to charge his laptop, and as he switched it on, he was greeted with the same lady who had pulled him to sleep the night before.

Or, Yoongi supposed, who had just happened to be playing on the night he was finally able to sleep without the nightmare scaring him awake.

Such wonderment remained at the back of his mind as he went about his business.

Through his own music, the whisper of the lady’s tune plagued him. So much so that, after a good three hours of composing, Yoongi found himself eyeing the tab he’d left open from before.

Having returned home from work later, his body was weighted with the day’s contrivances and stresses, as well as its successes and joys.

Emotionally, Yoongi had given all he had to offer, which, if he was to admit it to himself, was far more than he usually did.

He considered that it was more than likely it wasn’t just the song that had sent him to sleep.

On the contrary, he believed that a multitude of factors had to have been at play in such a miracle.

He wished to replicate the conditions of the night before: he kept his room dark and a glass of water on his bedside. He packed his pills away and placed them on his bedside, too, taking care not to lose any in case their service was required again.

He set the woman’s song up, lying in bed and playing it.

The creeping horror of the notion of never obtaining such a quality of sleep again was the only odd variable in this equation, and though it quietly consumed Yoongi’s thoughts, the hum of the song muffled it.

The song was no longer than 4 minutes, though the eternity that stretched between Yoongi and his voyage to the fabled land of dreams made it impossible to tell how long it had been.

He was not yet familiar enough with the song to place a time on the segment he was experiencing.

His concerns faded as he simply let himself be.

If it works, it works, he told himself.

The next thing Yoongi remembered was hearing a bird chirping nearby his window.

He cracked an eye open.

Much like the night before, his room remained in a state of quiet disarray, though only noticeable to the trained eye.

His laptop lay near his side, screen dark and lifeless.

Yoongi checked through a crack in the curtains. And sure as anything, the sun had risen once again.

*

Over the next couple of weeks, Yoongi researched the song, its creator, and whether it was really the secret to staving off his insomnia.

He had discovered that the creator’s name was (Y/N) - a popular artist who had fans far and wide, as well as domestically.

He found more of her particular songs - the ones that she hummed.

He tested both the original and these humming bird songs (as he called them), and to his delight, the humming birds worked.

Yoongi would go to sleep and wake up at reasonable times, rather than the odd dips in and out of consciousness he would try to induce on his own terms.

It was just your music that soothed him so, and from the day he uncovered this, he vowed to be your loyal follower.

Though, with any influential fan can blossom obsession, and as Yoongi became ever more eneamoured with your gossamer vocals, he feared the day that your songs would no longer support his sleep.

Or, God forbid, you stopped singing.

He often fretted over such a premature worry, though he couldn’t deny how it had all but devoured his thoughts.

Months into his expedition into your music, he decided to finally take action to ensure that your voice would never die - never fade with age, accident or abuse.

No, he would preserve it like the fine wine he had failed to so many years ago - to be sipped and savoured for eternities to come.

Sasaeng Masterlist

[alittlewhump]

Unbidden - Act 1, chapter 7

Masterlist | Previous | Next

Content warnings: death mention

Morgan was surprised to return to consciousness. He hadn't expected that to happen again. He was lying in a rough bed, covered by thin sheets. His eyes wouldn't quite focus, but sunlight was shining through a window and giving everything a golden cast. It smelled familiar, like healing herbs - maybe Akara's cabin? Someone must have arrived just in time to save them from Andariel's clutches. His efforts certainly hadn't bought enough time for an enthralment to wear off. He made to sit up, but the pain that lanced through his arm cut that plan short. He cried out before he could stop himself, biting down on his lip to muffle the sound. Even that hurt more than it should have.

The priestess appeared beside the bed. "Finally back with the living, are you? Good. We've been worried. Drink this." She pressed a cup to his lips. He hadn't realized how thirsty he'd been, but he gulped back the water quickly. The cool liquid soothed his raw throat a little. It still hurt to swallow, probably to speak as well.

He risked a soft "Thank you," barely more than a whisper. It felt like his throat was lined with sand, and he grimaced.

"Just rest, hero." Hero? The confusion must have been plain on his face. The expression of concern had been out of character, but this was much stranger. Akara gave him a sympathetic, slightly worried look. "Don't you-"

Blaise burst into the small room at top volume. "You're finally awake! The great hero rises at last! I've been telling everyone how you defeated Andariel and saved us all. They'll be so glad to see you've pulled through!" She was making an unusual amount of eye contact. This was a cue, then. Despite the confusion of the situation, Morgan found himself relaxing a little. It was good to see her alive and well, although she continued to baffle him. Why would she lie about what had happened?

"It would be a treat to hear the tale from your point of view for a change," Akara murmured. Blaise's smile froze. She was, Morgan realized, banking on him playing along with the version of events she'd laid out. He'd already told her he didn't lie, so why would she involve him this way?

"I, ah..." He cleared his throat and regretted it instantly, wincing. "I'm afraid I... don't remember that," he said carefully. It wasn't a lie - he couldn't remember what had never happened.

Akara clicked her tongue. "I've seen this happen before. Poisons can wreak havoc on the memory. It's a shame." Blaise looked relieved. "Anyway, now that you've made it through the worst of it, I can get out and replenish my stock." She was already slipping a cloak over her shoulders. "Blaise, you'll keep an eye on him, hm?" It was not a question, and she did not wait for a response before leaving.

Blaise watched the door until the sound of footsteps faded away, then she turned on Morgan with a ferociously angry expression. "You're a complete fucking idiot and I don't care if you don't remember any of it. I'll sum it up for you: you decided to just jump up on Andariel like she wasn't going to destroy you in one second. Then - of course - she did. We're both fucking lucky that I managed to shake her stupid demon mind control and put a whole quiver of arrows through her ugly skull. Now tell me what in fuck's sake you were thinking when that seemed like a good idea to you."

Her sudden switch from cheerful to enraged was confusing and overwhelming. "You were enthralled, I had to try something," he blurted. He didn't know what she wanted to hear, but evidently it wasn't that.

"You should have tried going back for some fucking help! That's what any person with a brain in their idiot head would have done!"

That hadn't even occurred to Morgan. Given the prevailing attitude toward his brotherhood, asking for help from others was not usually an option. He would have rejected the idea anyway - it would have spelled her doom, which would have been an unacceptable outcome, especially when the likelihood of receiving help from the others was so low. They'd both managed to survive somehow, so why was she so upset? Maybe if he just explained. "As a follower of Rathma, my sworn-"

"Your sworn duty is to maintain the Balance. I know. I've heard your little speech. What does that have to do with anything?"

"The forces of darkness are gathering. I must do what I can to hinder evil and preserve good." Blaise just kept staring. Was that not enough explanation? Time to take it down to basic facts, then. "You're a good person, Blaise."

He was not expecting the series of emotions that crossed her face, most of which he couldn't identify. She settled on anger, which was recognizable but still confusing. He was also not expecting the slap that stung suddenly across his cheek. He winced. She was fast.

"What about now, huh? Do you still think I'm good?" Blaise's voice was low and dangerous. Morgan's eyes narrowed, searching her face for anything that would make sense of this. He found nothing. Why was she reacting so strongly to such a simple observation? Maybe - oh. Cain had mentioned Andariel's influence extending to emotional anguish as well, not just physical. That... well, that might explain this volatility but it wouldn't help him navigate it. He wasn't going to lie to her. It wouldn't matter anyway, since it felt like neither answer was going to be correct.

"Yes."

Another slap, harder than the last one. Morgan bit back a yelp. She had managed to hit the exact same spot, and he could already feel it beginning to swell.

"How about now?" Her voice trembled with anger. This was going nowhere.

"The answer -" here he flinched, closing his eyes in anticipation of the next strike. "- will continue to be yes, no matter how many times you hit me." Nothing. Maybe he'd gotten through. He opened his eyes hesitantly, only to be met with another slap. He made a soft grunt of pain, despite himself.

"You're a fool," Blaise spat. So she didn't believe his assessment. This could definitely be solved with more explanation. He just had to choose his words carefully. His cheek throbbed.

"I have spent enough time around you," he began slowly, looking at a spot on the wall. It felt safer than making eye contact. "To observe that you are loyal, brave, kind, and fair." He didn't dare risk looking over at her, so instead he continued. "I am an outsider with... few social graces. I keep company with the dead. You were ordered to escort me on an unpleasant and dangerous quest, which nearly got you killed." He paused to swallow, grimacing. His throat burned painfully, but he wasn't finished. "All things considered, it is reasonable for you to hate me. That does not change your nature."

Something else was beginning to occur to him. Blaise wasn't saying anything, so he forged ahead despite the discomfort. "And yet, despite all the trouble I've caused you, you still went to the effort of bringing me back here. To your healer. It would have been easier to leave me. Where I fell."

She snorted at that. So at least she had been listening. "And what do you suppose I would have told everyone then, huh?"

Morgan turned his head to look at her again, searching for some sign - was this a trick question? What was the answer supposed to be? He decided to go with the factual. "That I died. You don't mark the passing of outsiders here."

That earned him another scoff. At least it wasn't a blow. "Yeah, that would go over great. 'Hey, everyone! We defeated Andariel! Where's Morgan, you ask? Oh, he died in battle and I just left his corpse down there in the monastery.'"

A deep-seated emotion coiled around his ribs, squeezed like a snake. That wasn't what happened at all. Wasn't what would have happened. All the pieces of it were wrong. He could feel himself scowling, a visceral reaction to the feeling in his chest.

"See? That wouldn't be right," Blaise said.

"No. Not in battle," he spat. Ridiculous. It hadn't been a battle. He'd barely put up a fight at all. "He died a coward," he corrected, half snarling. "Screaming. Writhing. Helpless. Like a worm on a hook." He wished the poison had taken his memory as Akara had suggested. Instead, he remembered each terrible second with crystal clarity.

Tears had sprung to his eyes. Apparently he was also feeling the emotional effects of Andariel's influence. Recognizing that didn't help. He drew a shaky breath and raised his hands to wipe away the tears. A searing pain shot through his injured arm as he moved it and he choked back a cry, pressing the limb back against his side where it hadn't hurt so badly. He scrubbed at his eyes with his good hand, but when his fingers brushed the spot on his cheek where Blaise's hand had connected, he made another soft sound of pain. Gods above, why did everything have to hurt so much? The anger and frustration and embarrassment all boiled over suddenly, without warning. An animal sound bubbled up from inside him, a growl that opened up into almost a howl before being overtaken by violent coughing. That hurt too, of course.

Strong hands gripped Morgan's shoulders, sat him upright and rubbed his back as the coughing fit subsided. Shame burned hot across his face. He was supposed to be able to control his emotions, but evidently he hadn't completed his training as well as he'd thought. To lose his composure so completely, then get treated like this - like a child! By someone who barely even tolerated his presence, probably compelled by pity. He closed his eyes and lay back, wishing he could just disappear.

Blaise spoke softly now. "You're not a coward, you know. You were actually really good down there." A hollow feeling settled over Morgan. Now he was definitely being pitied. This was worse than the anger, harder to accept. People were often angry at him, and he was at peace with that. But this... this made him feel so small, and he hated it.

"Don't," he rasped.

"What?"

"You don't have to... soothe my pride." His lip curled. "I know what I am." Weak. Pathetic. A burden. "I will leave as soon as I am well enough. It should be easy to avoid me until then." That ought to please her, the promise of seeing him gone. He was certainly looking forward to being alone so he could work on regaining his emotional control.

"Listen, Morgan." Blaise's voice was quiet, serious. She sighed. "I don't hate you."

That... no, that didn't make any sense. Most people disliked members of his Order on principle, and she had more reason than most to hate him. Morgan opened his eyes to peer suspiciously at the woman seated beside him. He couldn't read her expression. Was this a joke? Sarcasm? Did she really mean it? A long moment passed in silence. He broke it with the barest whisper, "Why?"

"You saved my life, idiot. You almost died trying, I thought - Anyway, I didn't hate you before that either. I wouldn't say I like you, exactly... I mean, you're... not normal. But it's obvious you're trying to do what's right, and I respect that." She made a face like she'd tasted something sour. "I haven't been... I mean, I know I've treated you - fuck, and just now..." She trailed off, ran a hand through her hair, and tried again. "Look, I'm sorry I hit you. I shouldn't have done that. I just don't... why would you say... why would you think I'm a good person? I've never even been nice to you."

"You don't have to be nice to me to be a good person," he explained tiredly. Nice was surface-level, easy for people to fake. Besides that, impartiality was a central tenet of Rathma's teachings. It was essential to the Balance. Personal feelings and experiences could not be permitted to colour a priest's judgment. Removing oneself from the equation had to be second nature. Being treated nicely, or not, had nothing to do with it.

Blaise was making that sour face again, and Morgan didn't have the energy for any further explanation. He didn't feel like he had the energy for anything. Everything hurt and he was feeling a lot of emotions, most of which he was not at all comfortable with. He closed his eyes again. "I need to rest." He paused. "Thank you. For saving my life." No response came. That was fine. Silence was easy. So was slipping back into unconsciousness.

[ohdearhiddles]

SUMMARY: What are you supposed to do when love doesn’t end in war? What do you do when love ends because it was just... meant to?

TITLE: Beginning/End

WORD COUNT: 1665

AUTHOR NOTES/WARNINGS: Hi hello!! Here be a chilly/winter angsty shot because I’m in the mood. I’ve been so very absent lately - my apologies!!! I’m going to try to be more active at least for the next month or so before classes start up again at the beginning of February! Thank you for being patient and lovely with me :) x (AO3 Link)

When a moment comes around where goosebumps appear, scattering across your skin like a road map for the invisible blade your lover takes to your body, you never expect it. You never expected it.

His hands held firm at your shoulders, looking into your eyes with his baby blues. His gaze seemed to speak to you, a foreign language that you once thought you understood, a language you shared. But perhaps this language wasn’t yours to claim, or perhaps you failed to learn it properly. He leaned forward, pressing a delicate kiss to your cheek before turning and walking out the door.

His touch lingered as your eyes follow the dim silhouette of Tom’s car as he disappears down the street. Your chest aches, weights falling into the empty spaces he had left hollow within you. A moment passed, maybe two, or maybe it was three, but you didn’t move. You kept your eyes glued to the street, hoping to see his car come speeding down the road again, running to tell you that it was all a misunderstanding — that it was all going to be alright.

But you knew he wouldn’t. So, you closed your eyes and sat by the window, wondering how long it would take for the past to be buried beneath new memories, buried so deep you would no longer yearn for it to all come back to you.

*****

The day Tom broke the news there was a chill in the air, and you couldn’t quite decide if it was from the snow falling from the sky or if it was from the atmosphere that only the two of you could feel.

There, in the midst of all the anxiety and turmoil spreading across the globe like an infectious disease, you fell apart. The tears sprung into action, your heartbeat hammered within the confines of your chest as Tom said the words you had dreaded to hear. There was a moment of silence as it sunk in, tears blurring your vision as you attempted to find the strength to take a step back from the man you thought you understood better than anyone else.

His eyes were filled with a sorrow you couldn’t comprehend, and you wondered briefly if he understood what was happening. You wondered if he understood that he was the one leaving you and not the other way around. For a moment, you felt mocked by his expression; it was like the pain in his eyes mocked the pain burrowed in your soul, and you had to resist the urge to call him out in spite of the situation.

Your eyes shut, pulling yourself away from his grasp. Tom’s hands dropped to his sides as he whispered your name. His voice was strained, an indication that you weren’t the only one hurting, but there was a spark of rage already ignited within you, blinding you to the sound of his voice and the mutual distraught you shared over the situation.

“Please try to understand,” he said, and you opened your eyes, a set glare fixed in his direction. Tom took a step forward, reaching out to try to touch you again, to comfort you, but you followed in his stead, taking a step backward to stay just out of his reach. Any touch would feel like a stab to the heart.

“Understand what?” You asked, but you were certain it was more spiteful a tone than you had ever used with the man before you. “Everything was fine, we were fine, what is there to understand here?”

His mouth opened and shut, your voice cutting him off before he could even get another word in.

“This is you, Tom,” your voice wavered. “Ending things here — this is all you. This is your doing, you running away. This isn’t me.”

Moments passed before he finally spoke again. The voice in your head told you that you weren’t making sense. But blind fury is a dangerous thing, and when faced with a single moment that could end a beautiful, yet tragic, love story, blind fury has the ability to ruin you.

“You’re right,” he spoke softly. “But do you want to spend our lives with everything being ‘fine,’ or would you rather find someone that makes you feel like your love is something to celebrate?” His voice shook as his shoulders slumped in defeat. “We fit well together.”

“We do,” you stated, voice firm as you attempted to keep composure, tears vanishing as all the fury began to fill in the void spots within you.

“But,” he tried to speak.

“But nothing.”

“But just because we fit well together does not mean that we are meant for one another. We can compromise easily, we enjoy the same things, we dislike the same things.” You opened your mouth to speak, but he continued to speak regardless. “Aren’t you afraid of staying the same? Being stagnant with the rest of our lives ahead of us? We’ve been together for two years and we’ve never gone on the vacations we wanted to, we never tried the restaurants that opened up down the street, we never tried trying the recipes we found, or...” he trailed off.

“We’re routine,” he inhaled deeply as he spoke, looking into your eyes. “And we always said we hated routine.”

Something within you stilled as he spoke. He had a point. Of course he did; he always did. The fire burning in your chest seemed to dim to a soft ember glow, fueling you just enough to keep the anger barely there. But without the harsh blazing fire of rage, there was no light to illuminate what wasn’t there. There was no enemy here. No one had done anything wrong.

You didn’t speak; instead, you pondered. The sense of familiarity that you found with him had felt safe for the longest time, but if you know what is going on in your lover’s head so easily, what is there left to discover? If you like the same things, when would you try something new? You wondered briefly about when you two had become everything you said you wouldn’t be.

“We did,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat. “We did say that, didn’t we?”

Tom sighed, running a hand through his hair in distress. “We did.”

“And there’s nothing we can do to fix it?” You asked, pleading with your eyes that there was something that you could do to fix this. He didn’t answer. “Tom?”

“There’s nothing to fix,” he spoke after a long pause, and you could have sworn that his voice had cracked. “We’re not broken.”

You felt hatred surface within you then. Not for him, though. You could never bring yourself to hate him, you knew that. You just hated that he was right. There was nothing to fix, nothing had broken. It was the fact that there was nothing to break that became the issue.

*****

You stood from your seat as the sun set in the horizon, turning the skies a darker blue. It had been hours, and something inside you kept trying to convince your mind that Tom would come walking in at any moment with his, “Babe, I’m home,” and award-winning smile. Part of you wished for it, wished to turn back time so that you could have done things differently, done anything differently. Anything to change this.

*****

“Move in with me,” Tom sighed contently, leaning his chin on your shoulder as you stood in his kitchen making breakfast. His hands rested on your hips for a moment, his bare chest flush against you as he began to pepper kisses against your jawline. “We could wake up like this every morning,” he whispered hotly into your ear.

You turned in his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck as you smiled. “I think you’ll need to convince me on that one.”

His eyebrows furrowed at your words, not entirely certain of what you meant. Seconds later, a suggestive grin appeared on his face, the grip on your hips tightening as he leaned forward to capture your lips with his own. If only he had known how little convincing was actually needed in order to make you say yes.

*****

You sat at the edge of the bed you once shared with him, feeling the lump form in your throat. There was never a day where you had felt lonely crawling into this bed, whether it be the presence of Tom’s body or his calming voice through the phone when he was gone for filming, you had never gone to sleep feeling so alone. As you leaned your head against the pillow he had claimed as his own, the tears began to fall.

Every once of strength you had to keep yourself together seemed to surrender to the sadness, to the inevitable realization that you would never share this bed with him again. He wasn’t yours to sleep next to anymore, to greet at the door, to call when the tears began to fall. Sooner or later, he’d be someone else’s, and you would be nothing more than a woman that missed him.

As the sadness and tearful cries attempted to pull you into a deep slumber, you whispered the words you couldn’t bring yourself to say when he left.

“Goodbye,” you cried, already missing the moments where goodbye didn’t have to be so permanent.

*****

“I’m Tom,” the beautiful stranger said, reaching his hand out to take yours in a gentle handshake. His eyes shone brightly in the light of the sun, and part of you wanted to compliment them. A smile adorned his face, a smile that would bore its imprint within your mind for far longer than you would have liked it to.

This was a beginning; a beautiful wonderful beginning and you had the most wonderful feeling growing within your soul that you were going to end up loving this man forever.

If only you had known.

“It’s nice to meet you, Tom.”

[angstyaches]

Please Please Please could you maybe do the next part of that Felix "drinking blood and getting a tummy ache" fic??? I'm just craving tears and fluff and tummy rubs and just 🥺🥺🥺and you are also so talented omg

Aagghh, I promised this so long ago, anon, I’m so sorry! I was reluctant because I thought I had to write emeto into it and Felix would be so ashamed and guilty and I couldn’t bring myself to do it (Fee’s already got quite an angsty storyline coming up), but your request was perfect.

CW: accidental stuffing/overdoing, drinking blood, mention of a dead animal, guilt and worry (but it turns out okay), nausea, stomach ache, mention of emeto (no actual emeto)

Continued from this fic.

__

“Fee? How are you doing, boo?”

The haze of something between sleepiness and drunkenness was thick as Felix looked up at his talking pillow, Elliott, from the taller boy’s lap. He took a moment to let his hammering heart calm down from the fear of whatever he’d been dreaming about, and admired the wide curves of Elliott’s jawline from below, and the soft smile it was offering.

Remembering the events of the afternoon made something like an anchor sink in Felix’s gut, a metaphor that here was quite appropriate. He wasn’t exactly sure how much a typical anchor weighed, but the weight in his belly must have been at least somewhat comparable.

Then, in a flurry of panic, Felix realised that they were both in the back of Ryan’s car without seatbelts.

He pulled himself forward, feeling Elliott’s hand rest on his back to help ease him up, but the movement was still way too strenuous for his full, aching stomach. Felix whimpered, feeling as though something with giant feet had just tried to use his belly as a trampoline.

“Fee.” Elliott rested his hands on Felix’s shoulders. “Boo, take it easy.”

“Seatbelts.” Felix’s voice was thick and heavy. “We have to put on – put on seatbelts.”

“We’re sitting in the driveway,” Elliott half-laughed. “We’ve been home for about an hour, but I didn’t want to wake you in case you felt sick.”

Felix felt a flash of gratitude amidst the pain radiating from his gut, and turned his body slowly in the seat so that he could face his boyfriend.

“Thank you, darling.”

Elliott gave a tight smile and nodded, as though agreeing that he should be thanked. “My legs are very numb.”

“Sorry. Ugh…” Felix mumbled, easing his back into the seat and running his hands carefully over the swell his belly had made beneath his green, loose-knit jumper. He heard Elliott getting out of the other side of the car, but closed his eyes quickly after.

His senses were tingling with acute awareness, probably heightened by whatever chemicals were produced in a vampire’s body during a hunt. He wasn’t used to feeling like this, to noticing the rhythm of his own heartbeat, the whistling rush of air in his throat and lungs, the volume of liquid in his stomach rocking back and forth like it had its own tidal pull.

He also remembered it all way too vividly, with too much colour and saturation; he remembered getting caught up in thirst and lust and the need to try to impress Elliott by being on the same level as him. He remembered feeling the creature’s meat between his teeth as he sucked the blood from its veins, though it was still pulsing so quickly that it probably would have filled his mouth quickly even if he hadn’t sucked. It had been so fresh, so freshly-delivered from the condition of being alive.

Felix winced as tears sprung to his eyes, partially from the ache in his belly and partially from the memory. It was like all of the nausea and regret of waking up with a hangover.

He opened his eyes again as Elliott slowly opened the car door.

“Come on, Fee,” Elliott coaxed as he offered Felix his arms. His voice was soft, like he was trying to soothe a frightened dog.

Felix took the help with a little pout, leaning his weight against Elliott’s chest when he could. He whimpered when he felt strong arms close around his back, careful not to pin him to tightly.

“Oh, my gosh,” Felix groaned. “Elli, I drank too much. I drank so much –”

“Sssshhh, no, no, no, you’re fine,” Elliott whispered.

“No, I’m not, I – I’m weak, Elli.” The sob that shook Felix’s frame was dry and gentle, like all of his muscles were conscious of the swell of pain in his gut, and knew that sudden, harsh movements would make everything so much worse. “I can’t do a single thing I set my mind to.”

“What are you going on about, boo?”

“I’m just so weak...”

“Come on, crazy, we’re getting you inside.” Elliott’s sigh made his chest rise and fall in front of Felix’s face. “You can take another nap if you want, and I’m sure Ryan has something you can take if it hurts too much. How does that sound?”

Felix ran a hand over his sore belly, shuddering at the oppressive warmth radiating out from it. His stomach was churning in an optimistic attempt to be productive; it hadn’t accepted the fact that it was futile just yet, even if Felix had.

A wet belch rumbled up, tying a knot in his oesophagus somewhere along the way. Felix promptly pressed his fingers a little harder against his stomach to coax up one more burst of air, this one sounding hollow as it made its way up.

“There you go,” Elliott chuckled, rubbing a hand across Felix’s back before attempting to direct him towards the front door. “Does that feel better?”

“No? I hate this so much,” Felix whimpered, lips trembling miserably as he allowed himself to be led. He still held onto his belly, as though afraid of what it would do if it was left to its own devices.

“I know you do,” Elliott assured him. “You’re doing really well, though. Let’s just get you inside.”

He held Felix up as best he could until they made it inside the front door. Felix sensed his boyfriend hesitating in the hallway by the foot of the stairs, as though considering whether their bed would be a better option.

Felix peered up at Elliott from behind drooping eyelids.

“The front room is fine, darling,” he groaned. “I can’t walk upstairs right now. No chance.”

Elliott scanned Felix’s eyes very carefully while holding him in place. “How about a bathroom?”

The trembling in Felix’s lips still hadn’t subsided, and was even creeping into his jaw and making his teeth rattle a bit. There was no doubt that he would probably empty his stomach of every last drop if he was given a toilet to lean over, and his tummy even gave a pleading whine at the thought.

“N-no, I – I don’t want to be sick.”

Elliott’s eyes stopped searching Felix’s, and began to cross over his pale face instead. “You mightn’t have much of a say in that, Fee.”

“I’ll be fine, darling, I promise.” Felix gulped, his throat bobbing ominously. “I just want to lie down. It hurts so much.”

The sofa in the front room was a dark shade of beige. Everything in this room was styled to look a little earthier than the rest of the house. The absence of pure white walls was an instinct relief, but it was nothing compared to sinking down into the cushions and curling up.

“Oh – ow,” Felix whined, unfurling his legs to stop the pinching cramp that gripped his belly. He rolled halfway onto his back so that his stomach wasn’t being pressed into the sofa either.

“That’s it; I’m going to get Ryan,” Elliott decided.

“N-no, darling, don’t.” Felix took hold of Elliott’s hand, drawing it to his chest before holding it gently against his belly. “Please, I just need you to be here with me.”

“What if something’s wrong –?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” Felix let out a shaky laugh between gasps of discomfort. He could feel how pale he face must have been, along with a ripple of cold sweat that broke out across his forehead and shoulders. “You know me, Elli. I just like to complain.”

Looking unconvinced, Elliott turned his hand over so that his palm rested against Felix’s stomach, just as the unsettled thing let out a growl. Felix felt the grumble begin in the swollen point beneath his ribs before it bubbled down and tapered out somewhere just above his belly button.

“Look like you’re not the only one complaining,” Elliott pointed out, smoothing his hand over Felix’s belly with the slightest amount of pressure.

Felix hummed under his breath, all too aware of the sensation of digestion once again trying to take place inside his stomach walls. He could feel a shift in his throat, a quickening of his heartbeat. A shaky hand went to his mouth, hovering uneasily, but there wasn’t even any air trying to escape.

He shivered without warning.

“Are you okay?”

“Mmm – yeah,” Felix mumbled thickly. His throat bobbed with another nauseous gulp. “I’m getting there.”

Elliott’s frown deepened as he kneaded his hand softly over Felix’s abdomen. He paused to redirect his hand whenever a gurgle was emitted from an unexpected area, doing his best to seek out the most uncomfortable points without pushing too hard on anything.

“I know you’re hung up on this,” he said after hearing a growl that travelled halfway up Felix’s chest, “but there’s really nothing to be ashamed about, if you feel sick –”

“’M okay.”

“Okay.” Elliott’s lips were pulled into a thin, resigned smile. “How the hell can you say you’re weak, hmm? You drank almost as much as I did, and you’ve got a much smaller – you know.” He patted Felix’s belly very gently. “Capacity.”

A shaky sigh left Felix’s lips. “My capacity is still very achy.”

“I’m not doubting that at all. Just try to relax. I’ve got you. Okay?”

“Mmhmm. Okay.”

He didn’t know if it was the relief of finally being home, or the gentle press of Elliott’s hand, but the gurgling in Felix’s tummy eventually didn’t feel (or sound) quite so angry anymore. In its calmed state, it swirled and bubbled with the motion of Elliott’s hand, continuing to do so even when Felix’s drifted into a light, if somewhat twitchy, sleep. He smiled semi-consciously at the sensation of Elliott’s lips pressing gently against his cheek.

[ladyhallen]

Growing Flowers for the Sunrise

Content Warnings: chronic pain, talks of death, terminal illness

Harry woke to pain.

He didn’t scream, but took a deep stabilizing breath. He was used to the lightning slivers that seemed to live in his veins. But whenever he was doing nothing, it seemed to intensify until sleeping was the last thing in his mind. Muggle medicine was a good friend to him these days.

Another breath and Harry finally placed his feet on the floor, moving through the shivery cold that intensified with every step.

Moping would get nothing done and he was absolutely tired of lying in bed - in pain - all day.

“Winky,” he called. “Breakfast.”

The house-elf popped in, took one look at his face, and popped back out. Breakfast involved a lot of healthy food, along with Willow Bark Tea that he was starting to taste in his dreams.

“Agenda for today?” he asked his frustrated healer.

Daphne Greengrass huffed irritably, hands moving gently along his shoulders and testing his muscles with wandless magic. “Nothing too strenuous. You’re too tired from the last treatment, but Granger’s theory is actually bearing fruit.”

That was very concerning. Harry would have cried if he wasn’t so tired of being in pain.

“That I have too much magic?” he asked. “It needs to get out?”

Daphne nodded, prodding at his collarbone and his ribs with gentle fingers. “I have no idea what magic was going on while you were dueling with You-Know-Who, Potter. But you are practically bursting from it. You need to let it out.”

.

.

Hermione’s theory was the Theory of Conquest. No one had actually fulfilled a prophecy in a few decades, but each and every one of those who fulfilled it died in a couple of days. Her theory was that something was given to each person at the end of those prophecies.

It said something about Harry’s pain threshold given that he had survived for two months in constant pain.

Magic being the obvious choice was hindsight.

How to expend magic faster than it replenished was the problem.

Annoyingly enough, that was a problem unique to him.

.

.

The Department of Mysteries had a love-hate relationship with Harry.

Oh, they loved him for the challenge he presented, of helping an international hero stay alive and all the troubles that came with it.

They also hated him every time a suggested solution was rejected.

It would be hilarious if he wasn’t dying slowly with too much magic. Harry’s humor had developed a sort of morbid cast to it that made Hermione uncomfortable and Ron smirk unwillingly.

The solutions presented were weird though, ranging from a magic siphoning lotion, to a generator-like machine that needed magic to run.

The latter was the closest thing to a solution Harry had ever had and he actually spent the whole day lounging on the machine, having his magic sucked off and feeling more relaxed in months. (It didn’t last, the machine overloaded with too much magic. The inventor didn’t account for what would happen to all the magic after it got sucked off.)

They still used the MagGen when he had a particularly bad day, with Hermione on the team that modified it and made it better each time, it went from only one day use to a three day use.

Harry hoped Hermione would find a portable solution soon, because being attached to the hip to the MagGen was great, but he wanted to be able to go to Diagon Alley without feeling a thousand needles lodging in his feet every step he took.

.

.

Harry woke to the scent of flowers.

“Neville? What time is it?” he mumbled blearily.

Neville helped Harry sit up, the scent of damp earth and various green things clinging to him intensified for a moment.

“Just past lunch,” Neville answered. He patted Harry on the shoulder gently and presented his potted flower, along with a floating tray of food.

“I thought belladonna’s were poisonous?” he asked. The berries on the potted plant were the distinctive ones of atropa belladonna. The color was memorable.

Neville tucked the edges of the blanket around him better. “If you use too much, then it’s poisonous. It’s actually medicinal.”

Harry tried to wriggle free and gave up under a minute. “Neville, I need to eat. I need my hands to eat.”

The herbologist ignored him, grabbing the floating tray and looking, for all intents and purposes, like he was going to spoon-feed Harry.

“Neville, no!” Harry said, renewing his struggle against his blankets and succeeding in getting an arm free. “I’ll eat, I’ll eat.”

Harry ignored Neville’s self-satisfied smirk to at least retain a semblance of dignity. The herbologist was very good at wrestling misbehaving plants and it seemed to apply to ill wizards too.

.

The answer came to everyone when Harry woke up to his bedside covered in a riot of flowers, having slept a full eight hours without pain.

The only thing different was the belladonna that Neville had left on his table and it had gone through an accelerated growth overnight.

.

“Of course!” Hermione exclaimed, examining the plant. Whatever feedback she was getting was making her so excited that her hair was forming a cloud around her.

“Plants absorb magic from wizards and emit clean magic. They’re part of the reason why the greenhouse effect hasn’t actually killed off everyone, you know?” Hermione said, expression rapt as she stared at the belladonna. “Magical plants work, but I think it would work better with non-magical plants as well.”

Plants were his answer.

Harry called his lawyers and Neville Longbottom immediately.

.

Harry bought an entire mountain and commissioned Neville to help him.

They took long walks around the mountain as Harry’s strength started to return and he got more and more optimistic. He got very good at making hammocks as he spontaneously slept and did not feel any pain.

It was amazing and Neville’s smiles were golden as he did his best to harvest plants so that Harry could have space to do his crazy magical plant growth.

Herbology was a very specific trade and soon, they had enough profit to sell the magical plants to the wizarding world and the mundane plants to the muggle world. Neville had teams and shifts to work the mountain overnight.

Harry’s magic expanded but at the same time, the plants absorbed enough of the replenished magic that Harry felt safe holding his own Holly wand. It didn’t felt like a single spell would tear it apart and Harry actually cried holding the familiar wood.

“Of course,” Hermione said after two weeks of careful observation. “This isn’t a permanent solution. You are not stuck in your mountain, Harry. I’m working with Saint Mungo’s for a temporary pill suppressant? It would allow you to leave your mountain for three days.”

“I don’t actually find it bad?” Harry volunteered. Daphne huffed as he moved his shoulders. With an apologetic shrug, he went still as she poked him with her wand again. “I mean, I might need to build a house here eventually. I can’t sleep on hammocks forever.”

“You’ve been sleeping outdoors in hammocks!!!” Hermione shrieked. “You’re going to catch a cold and die! I’ve not been working my arse off just for you to die of a cold!”

Harry cringed but listened to the lecture with a smile. Hermione hadn’t felt comfortable saying the d-word near him. That she could meant that she must have felt better.

Before both witches could leave, Harry caught her hand and said, “Hermione. Thank you.”

Thank you seemed too small of a word to encompass everything she’d done for him. But Hermione understood.

Hermione teared up. “Oh, Harry. You’re welcome.”

.

.

Ron visited whenever he could spare time from the jokeshop.

Harry, who knew how insanely busy the jokeshop could get, was just grateful that Ron could spare him two hours.

“It’s still crazy that you own a mountain now, mate,” Ron said. The stress lines in his face had faded away when he saw Harry stand up and walk to him without a cane. “I mean, wasn’t it crazy expensive?”

“Well,” Harry mused. Fame was no longer a sore point for Ron, being a sort of war hero himself. But money… ”Remember during the war when we found those horcruxes in the items from the founders? Well, turns out, most of them were goblin made and the goblins were grateful to have them back.”

Ron looked concerned. “Harry. Didn’t we destroy Gringotts and let loose their guardian dragon? And weren’t those items destroyed beyond repair?”

Harry smiled. “Well. It turns out; it’s not the item that’s important, but the metal. Goblin metal is incredibly valuable and I just gave them three pieces full of it.”

“Hence, the mountain,” Ron said, nodding.

“Hence, the mountain,” Harry agreed. “And that I and all my descendants would stay as far away as possible from Gringotts.”

They walked a couple more feet and Ron looked up at the crazy height that the trees were reaching.

“Where are you living, mate? Mum did ask me and I don’t see a house,” Ron asked. “Not outdoors? Camping is all well and good, but I’d have thought you’d be done with it after what happened.”

Harry remembered Hermione’s shriek of outrage and shuddered involuntarily. “Nah. I’m talking to the architects and the herbologists about making a tree house.”

Ron smiled. “That sounds crazy. On these trees?” he gestured to the absolutely humongous trees that had sprung up after Harry settled in the mountain. “Wouldn’t they keep growing?”

“Ah, no,” Harry rummaged through his trousers for a piece of parchment and a quill. He flattened them on a flat rock and sketched out the idea. “What I was thinking was this. I’d take five trees, hollow out the insides some, the central one would have a hidden staircase and then I’d just have a bunch of houses up there in the five different trees, but they’re actually different parts of the house.”

Ron laughed a little. “That’s crazy. It sounds like you. That house sounds big, Harry.”

Harry’s smile didn’t die, but only because he pasted it on through sheer force of will. “Well, you’re gonna visit, aren’t you? You and Hermione?”

“Of course I will!” Ron exclaimed. His watch chimed an alarm. “Ah, shit. I have to go back to London. Your place is great, and you look better, Harry. I’ll tell mum so she can stop worrying about you.”

They embraced, Ron left and Harry sat on his rock and cried.

.

.

Neville had become a sort of therapist to Harry, which probably wasn’t healthy because Neville wasn’t a licensed therapist and Harry’s issues needed an entire team of them to deal.

Still, the herbologist, who had accidentally found the solution to saving Harry’s life, didn’t complain and visited every time he could spare.

“I feel like I’m going to die,” Harry confessed to his friend. “And I’m just here on borrowed time.”

“Harry,” Neville said quietly. “Is the pain back?”

Harry munched at the muffins and swallowed, feeling like he was eating concrete. “No. But, I can feel it at the back of my mind. It’s there. It’s waiting for me to slip up. To make a mistake. And it’s going to be back, harder, stronger and more painful than ever. That…this relief is temporary.”

Neville looked pained. “You’re not getting better, are you?” he whispered.

Harry set down the muffin and clasped his hands, wishing, idly, for tea or something stronger. “It’s been months, Nev. How much magic did Voldemort have? How much magic do I have? It’s not good for one body to hold two people’s magic. It’s just…not possible.”

“You will stabilize,” Neville whispered. He got up, rounded the little table, and engulfed Harry in a hug. “I’ll not stop. Me and Hermione, we’re working on it.”

Harry clung to his dearest friend and swallowed his sobs. He wouldn’t cry. If he did, he would never stop.

.

.

Luna, who had fled the country as soon as the war was over, hadn’t seen Harry since that fateful day in Hogwarts. She returned after a furious letter exchange with her father and visited Harry immediately afterwards.

Her protuberant eyes grew even wider when she saw him.

“Oh, Harry,” Luna whispered. “You’re…”

She hugged him.

Harry felt the tears stuck in his throat struggle to get out. He swallowed them down and hugged her back.

“You look great, Luna,” he told her sincerely.

Her dirty blonde hair had darkened to burnished gold under intense sunlight in the African desert and her skin was smattered with freckles and cheeks were sunburned. She looked alive.

“You look tired,” Luna said. “But you are standing upright. Tell me everything.”

Harry absolutely didn’t want to, but Luna, like Neville, was one of those people used to wrangling difficult things. Magical plants for Neville and magical animals for Luna. This translated well for Harry.

“Ah, it’s been a difficult few months, Luna,” he told her with a smile. “It’s nice to be able to see you.”

Her pale fingers tightened around his. “And it is nice to see you. Would you like some tea? I found some really nice herbal blends in Africa.”

Helplessly, Harry allowed her to feed him truly terrible herbal tea, until he cracked and told her everything just to stop the tea.

“You have too much magic,” Luna mutters. “It’s not that simple. You have incompatible surplus of magic.”

That’s the first time Harry had ever heard that about his condition. It was also the first time he had felt that much hope.

“Do you want to talk to Hermione?” he asked her.

Luna made a face. “Ah. For you, I will.”

Harry remembered belatedly that Luna and Hermione didn’t get along very well regarding magical theory even if both of them would kill for the other.

“I cannot ask for better friends,” Harry said, kissing her forehead gently.

Luna beamed.

.

.

Even with four people working on it, Harry didn’t get better. But he didn’t get worst either.

“We’ve stabilized it,” Neville told Harry. “You’re alright, Harry. You’re alright.”

It didn’t seem to sink in, until a year later, when Harry was cooking for a small group of his friends, who had their own guestrooms in his treehouse and he didn’t feel that bone deep pain hiding. That he hadn’t been feeling that pain for a while.

Harry dropped the spatula and had to grab the kitchen counter in a hurry.

“Harry!” Ron cried out, getting out of his chair and running to him. “What hurts?” he asked.

Hermione and George rushed in a beat later, wands out and alert. Neville looked terrible. Ginny’s hands were over her mouth.

“I’m alright. I’m fine,” he gasped. “I just realized. I’m happy.”

They all crowded around him and gave hugs and pats. Harry choked on tears.

“It’s alright,” he hiccupped.

“You are,” Hermione soothed. “You are.”

“I’m alive,” he said, almost a question.

“You are,” Ron said, hands on Harry’s shoulders. “You’re alive.”

It took a while but finally, Harry believed that he was.

.

.

Please tell me if I’ve written anything offensive for people who have chronic pain and I will do better.

[justthishumanheart]

I read about a man once who was eating cherries He would pop them whole in his mouth They were so perfectly ripe and so deeply red and purple They were so sweet, but mixed with a strong, sassy, willful tanginess For to know and appreciate sweetness, one has to be acquainted with bitterness That bitterness danced in stilettos on his tongue We all love a bit of pain with our pleasure, don’t we?

He loved eating them whole because of the cherry stone He liked the contrast between the delicious flesh and the hard stone at the center After tearing the flesh from the stone, he would let it move around in his mouth It was still pleasant to taste, and for some reason he liked to put it between his molars And bite down Never hard enough to break either his teeth Or the stone But it felt good to strain against it To flex his jaw muscles The roughness felt good on his tongue

He reached for another One caught his eye It was smaller than the others The only one that still had the stem attached He picked it up Put the stem between his teeth Ripping it out felt so satisfying for some reason He pulled the cherry away Keeping it held between his thumb and middle finger As he used his tongue to pull the cherry stem into his mouth

He remembered being younger He had finally had the courage to ask his crush on a date He was so excited to be with her She made him so happy and excited She ordered a milkshake And when the waiter brought it out It had a cherry on top She pulled it off and offered it to him But he didn’t like cherries then And he refused She laughed And smiled That smile The smile that made his heart skip That made him want to make promises he knew he could never keep But that didn’t stop him from wanting and eventually making those promises There were so many things that the smile hinted at He wanted to know them They were still secret to him But he longed to know so badly And he knew how Eve must have felt To want to know the secret So badly that she was willing to die for it He felt the same

She held the cherry stem between her fingers And looked at him with a very playful look And said that her aunt had told her That anyone who could tie a knot with a cherry stem With just their tongue Was an incredible kisser He flushed at the word He hadn’t ever kissed a girl He wanted to so badly But he was so nervous that he wouldn’t be good at it She reached out the cherry stem to him A challenge An invitation? Deep breath ‘Time to prove yourself’, he thought He wanted to show her that he could be an amazing kisser And so he popped the stem into his mouth and quickly got to work

As he moved the stem around his mouth Attempting to create a circle on one end That he could push the other through He began to wonder what it was about these movements Of his tongue and his mouth That made one a good kisser Because it seemed to him that he couldn’t stop salivating Every time he would move the stem around His mouth would fill with saliva He wondered if his kisses would be too wet

He was making good progress on the knot It actually seemed to be pretty easy And she was smiling at him the whole time She was so short He loved that about her She made him feel so big Big enough that he could take care of her And hold her Almost envelop her He dreamed of her enveloping him Every night Hell every moment of every day He wanted her to adore him In every way a person could be adored

At last he had it! He had figured out how to get his teeth involved And pulled the end through with his tongue as his teeth held on to the other end He smiled widely and parted his lips And laughed as she saw the stem in a knot between his teeth He felt so happy and accomplished And encouraged that he could be a good kisser The courage he needed

There was the stone Still in his mouth Drawing saliva into his mouth Just like the stem had He laughed to himself Moved the stone between his molars And started pressing hard He felt so much like that stone All the pressures and stresses and worries and responsibilities They surrounded him They made him feel small and insecure They made him feel like he was being crushed slowly by the weight of it all He remembered years ago that he used to love that pressure Withstanding it made him feel strong And capable He felt it drew things out of him that were important He felt it taught him about himself and his potential But after so many years he had become hardened Like the stone in his mouth Between his molars And that pressure was getting to him He was so tired And stressed And it was affecting his ability to love And be creative And feel alive and at peace and…and himself He didn’t feel himself anymore

There was a crack Oh shit Did he break a tooth?

He spit the stone out and tried to clear his mouth of the debris To see the damage he had done But his teeth were intact It was just the stone He was surprised to find a nut inside He never knew that cherry stones had a nut inside them Just always figured that the stone itself was the seed He picked up the nut and looked at it closely It reminded him of a pistachio He loved pistachios They made him think of his dad He missed Dad so dearly - so acutely He felt like it frustrated everyone how much it affected him His dad dying Hell, it was bad enough that he even frustrated himself He tossed the nut into his mouth ‘Not too bad’, he thought to himself He had no idea about these nuts He tried two more

The thing with cherry nuts is They contain a compound called amygdalin Which breaks down into hydrogen cyanide when ingested The man had just ingested enough cyanide to kill him He told his wife he was feeling funny And she rushed him to the ER The doctors had the antidote, gave it to him, and he recovered just fine ’They tasted really nice. Kinda stupid, really. No one’s ever come in with it. But I did.’

I look out my window The cherry trees are blossoming now I have felt so dead for months So dark and hollow I don’t know where this darkness came from But it has been nearly unbearable I have struggled with all that I am to survive it But those trees, in their constant push skyward Are trying to communicate to me To tell me nature’s endless power That no matter how dark And hollow And empty you get You can never hold back spring

And spring has also sprung in my mind I felt it when I saw her I will always love Neruda for those lines ‘I want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.’ God I wish I had written that It almost pains me that I hadn’t Because there you are Unfolding before me Slowly and luxuriantly So captivating My eyes have been so thirsty for the sight of you Of your hills and valleys You are full of so many things One of them is certainly cherries And when I look outside my window And see my cherry tree I feel a pang inside my heart and ask myself ‘Why are not cherries made of thee.’

Because I wish to do to you what that foolish man did with the cherry

[moonchildsaurora]

La Valse de L’éternité

✤ prince!Seonghwa x fem!reader ✤ genre: royal!AU // bittersweet (of fluff to angst) ✤ t/w: sfw, slight mentions of death might need some tissues for the end?, rated PG  ✤ count: 1.8k+

a/n - sorry this is late, but coming out of my hermit cave to finally write an actual one-shot for @daybreakx writing challenge #3. What started out as a mini scenario turned into a mini story instead, and now I just need to lie on the floor for a week (guess that’s what happens when you dive back right into writing after years of hiatus). I hope you guys enjoy it and please feel free to give feedback 💙  

“Hello my love.”

The timbre of his voice weaved in harmony with the orchestral symphony that filled the magnificent ballroom.

“Well don’t you look dashing, my prince.”

The hand that held your own was as gentle as the adoring gaze he had on you. “The night has only just begun and already you’re enticing me with such flattery.” Before bowing slightly, full lips gracing the back of your hand peppering the surface with soft kisses.

“Were my own words back then so profound that you just had to re-use them?” you replied with a teasing counter-attack and a chaste peck on his cheek.

“In all honesty though, you’d put Aphrodite to shame.”

“And you accuse me of using flattery, have you no shame Seonghwa?”

Pulling you flush against his chest by your waist, “For you I’d risk dignity and all,” he murmured and took a moment to lean his forehead against yours. Then and there, you both allowed yourselves to get lost in each other.  

Only when the sounds of strings and woodwinds along with echoes of conversations from below floated back up to your ears did Seonghwa prompt, “Shall we?”     

This wasn’t the first time he guided you down the Grand Staircase and still, the view never cease to leave you in awe. Stoic marble columns stood tall with regal history carved into them, holding up the masterpiece of a ceiling above where the paintings were witnesses to the happenings on the white gold marble floors. Crystal chandeliers and torchères bathed the room with a delicate glow.

You noticed the balustrades were adorned with lush flower arrangements of varying colours. The last time you saw such extravagant decorations was for your royal engagement to Seonghwa.

The floral aroma was prominent and filled your senses pleasantly. Yet there was a faint underlying scent that seemed slightly out of place. 

Before you could put any further thought into it, an announcement was made to alert the guests of your presence. Already parting a way to the centre of the ballroom, Seonghwa and you turned to greet them as you both walked by.

Oddly enough there weren’t any familiar faces amongst the crowd. “Were our parents not attending the ball tonight?”

“They are probably at the tables already, discussing plans for our ceremony which will most likely be sprung upon us by tomorrow morning. You know how exuberant my mother is when it comes to weddings.”      

A soft laugh left your lips at the sweet reminder; in exactly two weeks you’d be walking down a very different kind of aisle. Your eyes glanced down at the blue sapphire that sits proudly on your ring finger. The same shade of blue that your gown of fine chiffon silk was made in and the trims that complemented Seonghwa’s royal ivory suit. 

“Will you do me the honour of having this dance with me, milady?”

Sheer willpower prevented you from rolling your eyes at his youthful playfulness, after all it’s a charming point of his. Instead deciding to indulge your prince by playing along.

With a dramatic curtsy, you accepted.

The maestro gave two loud taps of his baton and a new waltz begun.

Seonghwa and you glided across the floor, letting your feet step in duet with the melody. You’ve felt like you have heard this tune before, but once again your mind cannot seem to settle on a precise answer.

Don’t go looking, please.

“Pardon?”

“Something the matter, love?” asked Seonghwa, brows slightly furrowing at your sudden question.

“Oh, I thought you said something just then.”

Spinning out and coming back in to Seonghwa’s arms, the skirt of your gown billowing effortlessly as it followed your movement. You tilted your head slightly as you looked up to Seonghwa, awaiting for a reply.

“Are you sure you weren’t eavesdropping on our guests?”

“How dare-!”

Another spin and with a careful dip, he bent forward to kiss on the hollow of your neck. “I know, I was jesting.”     

You shivered with delight and brought a hand up to caress the side of his face. Naturally, Seonghwa turned towards your touch. Eyes closing with content and letting a subtle nuzzle into the palm of your hand. Not minding one bit that his arms’ strength was being tested for holding you securely in that dip.

“You are awfully affectionate tonight,” you said in a hushed tone.

“Can’t a prince openly cherish his beloved in front of others?”

When he brought you back up, your hand reached up further to brush his dark fringe out of his eyes. Smiling tenderly back at him, you continued on with the dance.

It wasn’t until your priority shifted to those decadent couverture truffles sitting so innocently on one of many banquet stands that you managed to convince Seonghwa to take a break.   

You could hear him chuckling behind as you hurriedly led him over, not wanting to miss out on your favourite treats.

“I’ll be right back, there’s been talk that the new batch of spring wine goes exceptionally well with sweets. Please try to save some for me!” he said giving your hand a light squeeze before walking off.

“No promises!”      

Making sure that you picked a few of the strawberry truffles, just for him, you couldn’t help but sneak a bite first. What you didn’t expect was the harsh taste of ash to hit the back of your throat. It drew out a coughing fit, causing you to drop the plate.

The scent from before wafted back with vengeance. Smoke. That was what clashed with the comforting florals and now, it stung overwhelmingly.  

You desperately tried to speak but the coughs were relentless. Did any of the guests nearby even notice your distress?

Seonghwa, you needed him.   

Come back, come back.

Trying not to fall into further panic, you blindingly reached out to grab onto anything to help get your bearings. Your arms painfully knocked against cold marble. Turning to look, you were faced with one of the exquisite torchère. It wasn’t the sculptured maiden that your eyes were drawn to, but rather the candles she held up.

The air around you started to feel suffocating and the candles’ flickering flames beckoned an uneasiness from the depths of your mind. A sudden flash came across your vision, causing you to wince and shut your eyes tight.

Your Highness, you can’t–    

Let me go through!

That voice, you know that voice. But why does he sound like that?  

–it’s too dangerous! You’d suffocate from the smoke…

A searing pain cut through your entire being.   

I will not abandon–

–still in there! I have to save–

The fire would’ve kil–

Anguish. Pure raw anguish. It hurt, to hear Seonghwa screaming your name over and over with such hopelessness. You forced your eyes to open with a gasp, acutely aware of how hot your surroundings had become. What had been small flames before, now was an inferno blazing all around. The stairs were burnt ruins and the flowers were no more.

A nightmare – this all had to be a nightmare. “Seonghwa!” your voice cracking as you called out for him, feet stumbling away from the scorching heat.

“Seonghwa, where are y– “ 

Arms encircled and turned you around with haste. “Look at me, I’m right here, look…” fingers brushing away tears that you didn’t know were falling until now.

“W-What’s happening? Why…I don’t understand”

Seonghwa’s presence have always been a safe haven, a constant calm. The moment he held your trembling frame close, it eased the chaos both inside and out that little bit more. You could still feel the firestorm against your back but he didn’t allow your eyes to waver from him. There were conflicting emotions running across him as he looked right at you; as if you would disappear if he were to even blink.

The way he spoke your name next crushed your heart. Your head was tucked into the crook of his neck and all you could hear was the same repeated phrase against your ear.

“Sorry, I’m so sorry. Please forgive me.”

You tried to move your arms to wrap around him, wanting nothing more than to comfort your dearest prince and cry out that there was nothing to forgive him about. So many questions left unanswered.

“Seonghwa, my dear Seonghwa, what is going on?”

His grip tightened around you, a deep breath drawn in and then exhaled. Holding your face with his hands, he pressed his forehead against yours just like before. “Always remember…” he said so softly, for these words were only for you to hear.

“…no matter how many lifetimes we have, even if they were short-lived, I will love you and will never stop loving you.”

Coldness came, spreading throughout from the inside. Your mind coming unhinged as fractured memories poured in all at once. Memories that weren’t meant to be remembered, for now you know that Seonghwa had lost you before. To burning smoke and ash.

“You are my eternity.”

He brought your lips together and all you felt was the touch of his sweet warmth before the darkness claimed you in the inevitable fall.

Each step you took echoed the hallways, your velvet slipper-clad feet sprinted across the granite marble floor whilst you fiddled to secure the blue sapphire on your finger. Cursing under your breath, thankfully your mother wasn’t around to tell you off, for waking up late. You had plans with your betrothed today, starting with your morning garden walk that you’ve never once missed. It was a special routine between you both, before duty called.  

As you rushed down the first flight of the Grand Staircase, you almost missed the figure standing in the middle of the landing. Dressed in your favourite colour shade, he was faced in the opposite direction. From your viewpoint you couldn’t really see what he was doing or whether he was simply awaiting for your arrival and checking his watch.

“Seonghwa, I’m so sorry for my tardiness, my prince!” your heart beating a tad faster as you approached him.

Had you paid closer attention, you might have noticed how rigid his body went for a split second upon hearing your voice or how swiftly he brought his hand up to wipe away stray tears from his eyes. In blissful ignorance, you knew not of the way he clutched the pieces of himself together. Silently begging that perhaps this time, you will remain for a while longer in this sanctuary that he’s created for you.

The mark that engraved over where his heart was, a symbol of what he willingly gave just so your soul wouldn’t have to drift through limbo alone, stayed hidden. 

Turning around to greet you with a genuine smile and adoration, he held out his hands for you to take so he could once again guide you down those same stairs.

“Hello my love.”

[minchanslut]

Lesson Learned

Pairing: Bang Chan, Lee Minho, Seo Changbin x f!Reader

Word count: 3k

Includes sexual themes, such as: degrading, overstimulation, oral, praise kink, slight orgasm denial, dirty talk, idk dude there’s a lot

While hanging out with your friends on what was supposed to be a chill Saturday night, you ended up spouting some drunk criticism that they had not particularly taken too well. And now, a week later, you found yourself before three men whose egos had been bruised and were itching to teach you a lesson. You wanted to say that it was an honest mistake, that you were just talking crazy as a side effect from all the alcohol in your system at the time, but you couldn’t. Seeing as you had reinforced your statement a few days prior, this time while sober, there was no way they’d let you off the hook. It was also too late to play it off as a joke as they were determined to teach you a lesson. 

It all started after you had hurt their pride by accusing them of being “A bad fuck.”

This was of course a baseless accusation. You had never slept with any of the three guys in front of you. You just somehow believed that they wouldn’t exactly be the best in bed. Once those words had left your mouth they all began shouting and denying it in unison. This resulted in a brief debate in which they attempted to defend themselves, and you refusing to be convinced otherwise. It was then that Chan brought up what he described as the perfect solution, a simple and straightforward one at that. You were going to sleep with them. It was the only way that you could find out who was right, at least so he claimed. You drunkenly agreed, not thinking they’d actually go along with it, after all, they were just as intoxicated as you. Your assumption was proven wrong when you were boldly approached by Chan a few days later, asking if you were still on board. You hesitated and he noticed. He used this to his advantage to get you agitated. Knowing that you did not like to be toyed with and always needing to get the last laugh. You ended up agreeing, thinking that you refuse to lose to the likes of him, not realising that was exactly what he wanted. 

Fast forward to the following Saturday night and you were sitting on your bed, mouth agape as you tried to understand what was going on. You were aware that you had agreed to sleep with them, but you assumed that it’d be one at a time. You were only expecting to see Chan, so the presence of Minho and Changbin was not something you were prepared for. When you questioned them about it Minho spoke up, explaining that since you were so sure they’d all be very disappointing, it was only fair that they got to, quote unquote, team up. You felt your cheeks begin to heat up. You had to admit that you found the idea of all three of them taking you at the same time very arousing, but you weren’t ready to tell them that just yet. Instead you only scoffed, saying that it didn’t matter to you if you had to deal with all three of them. 

“It’ll probably just be three times as disappointing.” 

Your words definitely got their blood boiling. You smirked, leaning back on your elbows as you cocked your eyebrow before speaking. 

“So, which one of you actually has the balls to make the first move.”

Chan, bold as ever, was the first one to react. He approached you as he discarded his shirt, nestling himself between your thighs. One arm supporting his weight beside your head and the other trailing up your body, the silk fabric of your babydoll being the only thing keeping his warmth separated from yours. Soon after his hand was on your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. You captured his digit in your mouth, sucking harshly as you maintained eye contact. Chan hissed as you released this thumb from your lips with a loud pop. 

“You seem eager to have a cock in your mouth.” you can’t recall ever hearing Chan speak in such a seductive manner. The gentle touch of his hand on your face was replaced with a much rougher one, almost as if to force you to look at only him. “Who would you like to suck off first?” 

He asked before stepping away, giving you the opportunity to make a choice. You scanned over each of them and noticed that Changbin in particular seemed like he was struggling. He was looking at you with hungry eyes, his bulge prominent through his tight jeans. You needn’t say much for him to understand you, a quick glance was more than enough. You crawled over to the foot of the bed on all fours, stopping right before him as he met you halfway. He was surprisingly quiet, not speaking a word as he unbuckled his belt and tossed his jeans to the side. You started planting wet kisses on his length through the thin fabric, your hands playing with the band of his boxers. You also took the liberty of kissing up his navel before directing your attention back to his erection. Once you finally pulled his underwear down, his dick quickly sprung up, slapping against his lower abdomen. He finally spoke, seemingly have grown tired of your slow and steady approach. 

“Fuck, just do something already.” 

No further instructions were needed as you wrapped your lips around his cock, sucking harshly on the head and hollowing your cheeks as you went lower. You had little trouble deep throating him, his overall length not being anything you couldn’t handle. Still, you found it challenging to keep up a rhythmic pace. His cock was thick and veiny and it made your mouth feel incredibly full. Your fingers dug into the skin of his waist as tears formed along your eyes. You noticed that Minho had taken a seat on a chair beside the bed and was eyeing you with a smug look plastered on his face, occasionally palming himself through his pants. Chan, however, was nowhere to be seen. You tried not to let your mind wander too far and focussed on the task at hand. Changbin decided to take control, coiling his hand into your tresses and keeping you still. He removed his length from your mouth, placing the tip on your lower lip signaling you to stick out your tongue. He slapped his dick on the wet muscle before nearly ramming back into your mouth. He wasted no time building up speed, his hips snapping rapidly as his hands tangled into your hair further.

“You like having my cock in your mouth, hm?”

If it wasn’t for the overwhelming sensation you were currently feeling, you’d have rolled your eyes at him. He couldn’t possibly be expecting you to respond. Chan, on the other hand, did. He had seated himself behind you some time ago and was waiting for an opportunity to remind you of his presence. You suddenly felt a harsh stinging sensation on your rear, and heard Chan speak from behind you. 

“He asked you a question, babygirl.”

You could only whimper in response. You could still feel Chan’s hands roaming around your lower frame, muttering something along the lines of “such a pretty ass” before spanking you once more. One hand continued resting on your ass, kneading the skin as the other pushed the flimsy fabric of your dress up and began pulling your panties out of the way. He groaned at the sight of your glistening folds, pushing your legs apart and delving his tongue into your wet pussy. The sudden action made you jerk forward to which Chan retaliated by holding your hips in place. He licked and sucked on your heat loudly, repeatedly telling you how sweet you taste, the vibrations of his voice sending tingles up your spine. Now mostly focused on the pleasure you were receiving, you briefly forgot about Changbin. Whose own climax was drawing closer thanks to the help of your moans which vibrated around his dick. He pulled out, tugging on his dick repeatedly as he instructed you to open your mouth. You complied, but struggled to keep your mouth open as Chan was still devouring your pussy. Thankfully it didn’t take Changbin much longer before he finally came, strings of his hot cum landing on your tongue and face. He collected whatever he could on his thumb, transferring it onto your tongue. You looked up at him with teary eyes and saw him smile. 

“I didn’t take you for such a cumslut, but what’s the fun in knowing what to expect, right?” he said with a wink.  

You had a remark on the tip of your tongue, but it was quickly forgotten when Chan pushed two fingers inside of you, his plump lips wrapped around your clit. Instead of a sassy comment leaving your mouth like you had hoped, all that came out was a somewhat high pitched moan followed by several curse words. You felt your toes curl, your hands clutching onto the bed sheets as you felt your orgasm approaching. The other two eyed you from a distance, the quiet room only being filled with the sound of your wet cunt and your occasional moans. Minho caught your attention, at some point having fully undressed himself and was now stroking himself to the sight of you getting your pussy ate. Quite frankly, you’d be lying if you said the view alone wasn’t enough to make you cum. Minho must have caught on, leaning forward a bit he looked at you and asked. “Are you close, kitten? Can you cum for us?”

You wanted to hold off a bit longer, purely to be defiant. But you were betrayed by your own body, cumming almost as soon as he spoke. You heard Chan sigh, lapping up your juices then kissing up your spine. He gave you one last kiss on your shoulder before praising you with “Good girl.” 

You tiredly plopped down onto the mattress, only to be disturbed by Minho’s voice. 

“We’re not done yet, kitten. It’s my turn now.”

He signaled you to roll over onto your back. Once you did, he quickly grabbed both your legs, pulling you closer to him and only leaving your upper body resting on the mattress. He ran his index finger up and down your slit, making you squirm from the slight oversensitivity. Minho, who had been quiet for most of the time, seemed to have finally gotten his voice back.  

“Do you think you can handle me, kitten?” 

Too prideful to even respond, you opted to simply avoid his gaze to which he replied with a simple “Okay.”

Compared to Changbin, Minho’s dick was longer but had less girth. Still, you found yourself admiring his stiff member. The few veins that ran down the length and the glistening reddened tip all making you want him even more. He pulled you closer, one arm hooked underneath your leg and the other gliding his cock up and down your folds. He tugged the flimsy fabric of your panties off and slid into you with ease, and chuckled. 

“How are you already so wet, are you that excited for me to fuck this tight pussy?”

His pace was slow, but he made sure to go as deep as he could. Your heels dug into the small of his back as you felt your eyes roll to the back of your head. You felt the bed dip and saw Changbin kneeling beside you. He started kissing down your neck, his hands squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipples through your clothes. His mouth felt rough on your skin, as if he had every intention on marking you up as much as he could. All the while Minho began fucking into you faster. His grip on your waist felt unbelievably tight and would likely cause bruises to be seen the following day. Changbin kissed all the way up to your ear, stopping to whisper how much he’d like to fuck your mouth again. He sat up and rested each of his knees beside your head. He angled himself forward so that his dick could easily slip into your mouth as he supported himself on his elbows. He slowly started thrusting, gravity helping you take all of him so well. You felt Minho’s speed begin to slow down and figured he must be growing tired of the demanding position - it was actually because Changbin was spreading his ass in his face - but that didn’t stop him from stimulating your clit. You also opted to take matters into your own hands, somewhat literally, and reached up to cup Changbin’s balls. You toyed and fondled them as he continued to fuck himself with your mouth. Minho had changed position slightly, your legs now resting on his shoulders, allowing him to reach your sweet spot with much ease. Chan was keeping himself busy with his phone, pacing around the room recording the other two males having their way with you. Despite Minho having a head start, Changbin was the first to climax. He groaned loudly as he spilled his seed down your throat. You continued to suck, cleaning him off before he pulled away from the growing sensitivity. The moment he pulled away Minho dropped your legs and leaned forward, his chest pressed against yours as he began fucking you at an incredible pace. Your hands found themselves woven into his hair and your teeth sunken into his skin. The headboard banged against the wall and the room filled with moans. You were so close, the sensation of being filled to the brim felt like ecstasy. And then it was all gone, you suddenly felt empty. Looking up you saw that Minho had pulled out, and was now standing up straight and jerking himself off. You muttered a barely audible “What the fuck.” that still managed to catch his attention. He asked you what was wrong, seemingly unbothered by the almost hateful look you were giving him. Not long after, he came all over your stomach and chest, looking down at his work proudly. You took this as a chance to ask what the hell that was all about. 

“I was so close!” you exclaimed. 

“I know, but I only let good girls cum.”

He walked away unapologetically, satisfied with his revenge. You heard Chan chuckle. Now only in his boxers he made his way to the bed, resting himself against the pillows and the headboard.  

“That’s so cruel, Minho. Come here, babygirl. I’ll let you cum as many times as you’d like.”

He patted his lap and you weakly crawled over to him, settling yourself on top of his constrained erection. He ran his hands up your sides and finally ridded you of the dark red babydoll, immediately capturing one of your nipples between his lips. His hands started guiding your hips, your throbbing clit rubbing against his clothed member. As he sucked on one breast, his hand reached up to grope the other. If your eyes hadn’t been screwed shut from the pleasure, you’d have noticed that he never once took his eyes off you. He halted your movements and instructed you to turn around. 

“I want to see that pretty ass of yours bounce while I fuck you, and” he leaned forward, resting his chin on your shoulder his hand pointing at Changbin and Minho “show them how it’s really done.”

You lifted yourself up for a moment allowing him to remove his boxers before he guided you onto his dick. You immediately noticed that Chan had more girth than Minho, feeling him stretch you out as you slid down his cock. He allowed you to adjust, telling you that you could move whenever you were ready. You slowly began winding your hips, moving them in a circular motion and building up a rhythm. Chan had his hands resting on your hips and ass, kneading the flesh and even landing a few spanks when you’d least expect it. Every so often he would lean in and place a kiss on your shoulder, and give you some slight praise. “You’re taking me so well, good girl.” “That’s it, don’t stop.” “Fuck, you’re so tight, you feel so good.”

Despite your legs growing tired, his words encouraged you to go faster. His breathing became erratic and you could feel his dick twitching inside you, signaling that he was close. You pushed two fingers into your mouth, coating them with your saliva and reached down to rub your clit. All while Minho and Changbin watched you in awe. Chan pushed you forward so that you were once again on all fours. He rammed into you, the sudden roughness and speed almost making you scream. One of his hands held onto your waist while the other replaced your own that was rubbing your clit. His movements were a lot more faltering and his voice got deeper, though he could barely form complete sentences. He wasn’t saying any more than two or three words at a time, but you were still able to make them out. 

“So close.” “Gonna fill you up” “My tight pussy.”

It wasn’t long before you found yourself unraveling, face buried in the covers to muffle your moans as you came. That didn’t stop him though. Your legs started shaking, twitching as he took you passed your orgasm. His hand still rubbing your throbbing clit, his dick stretching you out. You felt as if your head was spinning and yet you could still hear him when he instructed you to cum again. As you reached your second orgasm, you felt him spill inside of you. His seed coating your insides, making you whimper as you felt it drip down your leg. 

You collapsed onto the bed before Chan could even completely pull out. Your breathing was ragged but with some effort you managed to finally speak words that essentially admitted your defeat. 

“That was amazing.”

The room was silent until Changbin decided to ask you a question. 

“Okay, but who was the best?”

[dungeonofimaginesandheadcanons]

If you dont mind, I'm gonna spam you guys with Hakuryuu requests, I just love that boy so much I'm sorry >.

 asklhasdhf, forgive me! I was trying to write for this for so long but couldn’t fine the brain cells needed to write xS Hope you enjoy it.

Time was a very odd thing to consider. Never did you think that it would bring you to where you are now, that’s for sure.

You had known Hakuryuu the whole of his life. You knew him as the third prince of Kou before the fire that almost took his whole family. You were that constant person with him that helped him get through after his uncle and cousins took the place his father and brothers had. You had known his hatred for his mother—something he had confided in you—and how he wanted nothing more than to avenge his family. You had never been in agreement on that matter. Though you wanted her to pay for her part in the fires, you didn’t want hatred to fill his heart.

Hatred you couldn’t hope to cure. Not with the precious little thing that was growing inside of you—the little bit that grew out of the love you had for him and one that you hoped he still had for you. But in this frenzy and with Judar by his side with both anger and hatred corroding him, you didn’t know what to do. You just knew that staying wasn’t an option. 

So you left. It turned out to be the hardest decision you ever made. You didn’t leave a note, nor did you bother talking. He wasn’t the Hakuryuu you knew anymore. You could only hope that the precious boy and caring man you came to know would surface once he realized how what he was doing would only hurt one person.

You escaped to Kina before the civil war engulfed everything, hiding from were you originated rather easily. The island was quite friendly. King Takeruhiko was kind to you as well despite you being pretty sure that he figured out you were from Kou the instant he laid eyes on you. He didn’t bother asking questions. He instructed his people to give you a warm welcome; you supposed that as part of the Seven Seas Alliance, they were honor bound to take in refugees too. 

It was after you settled into your new home that would eventually house two that you heard from the Kinans about what became of the civil war. Hakuryuu had won and as punishment his brother, Kouen, would be executed. The others exiled, and his sister Kougyoku pardoned. Your heart ached knowing deep down that this would only leave his heart hollow. The hatred he harbored for so many years finally had done what you had fought so hard to avoid. It left him utterly alone.

You wanted to run to him. To assure him that, despite what he had done and that you didn’t agree with how he had approach things, that you still loved him. Hakuryuu would hear you out after all. He always did. And you would have had it not been for the child growing in you. After witnessing what he’d been capable of when overtaken like that, you couldn’t chance it. Not with the child.

So you kept your distance for three long years.

Until the day one rogue magi found you. Aladdin, now much older than the young magi you once knew, came to you out of the blue, you couldn’t believe it. He had been missing the past three years according to rumors along with a young Fanalis, Miss Morgiana, and Hakuryuu. That tad bit didn’t hit you until Aladdin mentioned that they would be staying in Kina and help it escape the reign that would come down on the world after Sinbad formed the International Alliance. Curiously enough, he had heard about you from Hakuryuu himself from the many stories he would tell them. 

After hearing of what became of Hakuryuu you breathed a sigh relief. He had undone the cycle of hatred on his own. He liberated his heart of it all. 

“He always spoke fondly of you,” he told you kindly. “And about how much he regretted never searching for you after you left Kou. Which is why I searched for you here when Uncle Takeru told me about a young Kou citizen that fled to his island before the civil war was waged. If you’d like, I would like for you to meet Hakuryuu again. The two of you.”

But now, given the chance to finally, finally meet him again, you faltered. Looking over to your little boy, just three years of age, playing about the expand of your home, you faltered. Questions rushed through your head like crazy. Would he be mad? Would he accept you? Would he love him?

Aladdin—bless his soul and kind heart—calmed all your worries.

“I’m sure he will love to see you again and meet him.”

You don’t know how those simple words convinced you, but they did. 

Aladdin took you to the palace and left you both in an empty room that the king had provided. There you waited and waited and waited until finally the door opened once more, this time to let in the one person you had loved the whole of your life.

You couldn’t believe how much he had changed in the span of three years and just how much he hadn’t at all. Almost instantly after recognizing you, without missing a beat, he rushed towards you and held you closely. It shocked you, honestly, to be taken so suddenly but when you felt his arms around you, the distinct smell of him, his warm breath against your cheek, you broke down crying. Despite having imagined this reunion so many times you never thought that the first thing you would do would be to cry. But you did, not out of sadness but from joy. Holding him closer for a moment longer, he finally separated from you long enough to take in your expression before pressing his lips against yours. You fell in tandem, rejoicing at how this still felt the same even after so many years.  

“No, mama, no!”

You sprung back at the hands of your little boy pulling you back. Both of you stood surprised at the little boy, a spitting image of his father, pouting and red-faced at the attention that his mother was getting from the strange man. 

He was as mad as Hakuryuu was confused. You decided this was as good a time as any to explain. Picking him, you cradled your boy in your arms and tried to explain one rather simple thing to the both of them at once. 

“It’s alright, my love. You see, this man is your papa.”

“My papa?”

“I’m his what?”

“You're his father, Ryuu.” Tears welled up again in yours eyes as you turned to Hakuryuu and smiled. “Yuu’s our son.”

[mysticm3ss]

let’s be forever [zen x fem!reader]

based on Normal Ending 2 of the April Fools DLC and also the reset theory. my interpretation of Zen’s POV during the final visual novel. enjoy~

Warnings: like one swear word. also angst but with a happy-ish ending.

Words: 1.5k

“I hope you’re not making a sad face. I’m smiling.”

It was only a half-lie, yet the words tasted bitter on Zen’s tongue. Though his lip was curled in a half-smile, the salty tears staining his cheeks and the sobs building in his throat far outweighed the acceptance he had so struggled to find.

He’d never see her.

Not her smile, her eyes, the blush in her cheeks...

The thought was more painful than a knife to the chest, but he kept a happy face. He couldn’t let her know that he was breaking apart, not now. He had to stay strong for her; had to be a rock for his princess to depend on. 

“At first, I couldn’t stand the fact that you’re in another dimension, but now I’m okay with it.”

His voice was thick with tears, and he hoped she wouldn’t notice. He would never be okay with this; never be okay knowing that he could never hold her in his arms, kiss away her tears, run his fingers along her skin.

Zen closed his eyes, hand clenching into a fist at his side. His nails dug into his palm, and the refreshing pain jerked him back to clarity. 

He could not accept this. He would not accept this.

“I know that the feelings we have towards each other can’t be trapped in any dimension. That lets me endure… all the waiting I have to do.”

Waiting.

Yes, there would be waiting; the plan slowly forming in the back of his mind could certainly never come to fruition overnight. 

But Zen would wait forever for her. Decades upon decades, centuries upon centuries, millennia upon millennia. 

He could wait. Yes, he could handle that. The only thing he could not handle was the mere notion of letting her go. Not now, not after she’d revealed that her feelings were as pure as his own, even if her answers had been predetermined. 

He would not give up.

“I love you, MC. Let’s be forever.”

He closed the app on his phone, and finally, Zen broke.

His chest heaved with painful sobs that burned his throat and stung behind his eyes. Tears marred the fair skin of his cheeks, and his hands fisted in his hair, knotting in the pale strands as he slid down the wall of his apartment. Knees to his chest, he pressed his face into his thighs, the fabric of his pants soaking up his sorrow and muffling the pitiful cries that fled his lips.

What would she say to me, right now? He half wondered. Would she hold me? Whisper comforting words? No, I should be the one comforting her… she must be hurting, too…

The very notion had another sob gasping from his throat.

“Jagiya…” he whispered, the words swallowed by his knees. “I’m coming for you. I promise.”

Zen didn’t move from his place on the floor until the clock struck midnight. Slowly, he raised his head, eyes red and puffy, cheeks tight with dried tears. 

Dammit, pull yourself together, his mind hissed. Hyun set his jaw, and sat up a little straighter, neck held high as he dared to look at his empty apartment. The empty space on the couch in which he’d longed to cuddle up with her, the empty kitchen he’d use to cook for her...

He swallowed, releasing a shaky sigh, and nodded once to himself as he tugged his phone from his pocket.

There was only one person who might believe him--one person who had dropped hint after hint in the chat room, hints that he had never quite grasped until now. One person who might actually be capable of helping.

He dialled. Held the phone up to his ear, listened as it rang. Once. Twice.

Hyun was bracing himself for the voicemail when finally-

“Zen, what the hell? It’s like, midnight.”

“Seven?” 

Zen winced at the croak of his voice and cleared his throat.

“...Zen? Are you… okay?”

Zen closed his eyes, cheeks flushing. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Listen… do you ever feel like… like something’s off? As though… maybe… we’ve done this before?”

Seven took a long moment before responding.

“What do you mean?” His tone was careful, and Zen licked his lips nervously.

“I mean… MC. Do you ever think that maybe… she’s… not exactly… here?”

A beat of silence.

“So you worked it out, huh?”

Zen’s stomach dropped. There was no pretending that this was a dream anymore, no locking away this torment in the back of his mind in the hopes that it was all just a painful misunderstanding, the ghost of a nightmare that haunted his quiet moments and taunted his sanity.

No, this was real.

“Y-yeah,” Zen managed. “How long have you known?”

“A while,” Seven murmured, and Zen’s insides twisted at the pain hidden in the redhead’s voice. Eventually, the agent forced a laugh that didn’t quite hit as genuine.

“So, at least now we can bond over our heartbreak, right?” he chuckled dryly. “And Yoosung thinks he has it bad in the love department… At least he doesn’t remember… none of them do…”

Zen had never heard humour drop from someone’s voice so quickly.

“Seven… I need your help.”

“What~? My help~?!” Seven gasped dramatically, upping his energy in typical 707-fashion; anything to repress the pain, to bury it beneath laughter and pretend that it wasn’t eating him up inside. Zen thought he understood Seven a little better, now.

He took a deep breath.

“I need you to help me… get to her. Get to her world. Or… or if that fails… see if we can bring her here. With her permission, obviously.” Zen held his breath, waiting for his friend to beat down his idea; to tell him that it was impossible, that he shouldn’t even entertain the insane notion.

“Even if it’s not forever,” Zen tacked on. “I just… I need to meet her. To… tell her thank you.”

Seven was still quiet, and Zen’s gut churned anxiously. His jaw began to ache, and he noticed he’d been clenching his teeth. He loosened, closing his eyes and focussing on his breathing--breathing that stopped at Seven’s next words.

“Okay. Okay. Let’s try.”

There it was--that flutter in his chest, the hint of brightness in his eyes, the bounce that slowly sprung back to his step:

Hope.

__________

It wasn’t until eight months later that he got the phone call.

Zen groaned, rolling over in his bed, hand fumbling for his cell as his bleary eyes barely registered the time stamped on his digital clock.

4:06am.

“Dude, what the fuck? Do you know what time it is?” he grumbled, voice thick with sleep as he pried his eyes open, stifling a yawn as he pressed himself upright. Zen stretched his neck, then his arms, holding his bicep over his face to muffle another yawn.

“I-I think I’m close, Zen.”

Seven’s voice was urgent, brimming with excitement, and Zen straightened immediately. Any lingering traces of sleep snapped away as Zen’s heart leapt to his throat.

“I’ll be right there.”

The night air whipped against Zen’s face, his hair flying out behind him as he broke god-knew how many traffic laws until he finally parked his motorcycle before Seven’s bunker. He’d spent night after tireless night here the past few months--at first, things seemed futile. But when they managed to hack into the other dimension’s version of the internet, Zen finally dared to hope that this could actually work.

He could see her--at least once.

Zen bypassed the Arabic security with relative ease; he’d come here often enough in the past few months to memorise the few phrases he’d needed to. He shoved open the door with his shoulder, hollow footsteps echoing on the floor as he barely kept himself from sprinting to the monitor room.

Seven’s amber eyes were bright, though they were weighed down by heavy bags and framed by sallow skin that hadn’t seen the sunlight (or sleep, for that matter) in at least a few days. Zen’s heart hammered frantically against his ribs, and he took a sharp breath.

Ordinarily, he was sure Seven would have given him shit--he was still in his pyjamas, for Christ’s sake--but at the moment, the two of them were too focussed on the monitors flashing with code, anticipation brewing in their shallow breaths and the hasty typing of Seven’s shaking fingers.

The two fell into a determined silence, broken only by the sharp orders the hacker fed to Zen, who followed them to the letter.

And then, Seven stopped typing, eyes wide in disbelief as they found Zen’s.

“It-it’s done. Any minute n-”

He was cut off by a flash of blue-green light bleeding from the monitor between them. Zen squinted, eyes closing against the harsh glare. As the brightness eased, he finally blinked, eyes adjusting to the newfound darkness. All he could hear was his heart thrumming in his ears, all he could feel was the burning of his lungs as he held his breath in anticipation.

His sight finally adjusted, and he felt all tension drain from his body, replaced by sweet, vitalising relief.

Hyun took a deep breath, and although his mouth was drier than cotton, the most beautiful word he knew found itself spilling from his lips;

“...MC?”

__________

hope u enjoyed, please reblog/comment if u did! xx let me know if u want a part 2, i have a few ideas!

[thatesqcrush]

Mr. In Between, Ch. 5

Rafael Barba x Reader. Rafael Barba x Olivia Benson. Prompt inspired by @sweetsummertime99​: “ I was watching friends and it was the episode where Ross writes the pro/con list for Rachel and Emily. I’d like to see if someone would write the same kind of scenario not with a waitress but other attributes. Rafael Barba x Female Reader where Rafael writes the list and the reader finds it. Possibly comparing to Olivia?” CW: Smut. So much smut. Language. NSFW. AN: Sorry for the delay. Work has been bonkers and the fam jam has been under the weather (myself included - I sprained my ankle). My poor muse took a beating and needed a break. 

AN2: Tomorrow I am going to see Seared, so hopefully I will have some fun pics to share. Tags: @obsessionprofessional​ @madpanda75 @ottosuricato @delia26 @dreila03 @sass-and-suspenders @glimmerglittergirl @melsquared79 @mommakat32 @garturbo @southern-magnolia @niyashell​ @tropes-and-tales​ @imjustreallynosy​ @whyissvuruiningmylovelife​ @sweetsummertime99​ @evee87​ @scarletsoldierrr​ @kscarlett1​ @cesarofangirl78​ @redlipstickandplaid​ - anyone else just ask.

Your lips crashed against Rafael’s as his hands skimmed the outside of your thighs. His hands made their to your derrière and he squeezed, before trailing back up and under your cream colored sweater. Rafael nimbly undid the back clasp of your bra and explored the softness of your breasts. You let out a small sigh as his fingertips tweaked your nipples, causing them to harden even more. You could feel Rafael’s erection pressing up against you and you ground against his lap. Rafael broke away from your lips to suck on the hollow of your neck. You gasped as he nipped your skin, marking you. Rafael ran his tongue over the bruised skin to soothe it.  You pulled away to grab the hem of your sweater and deftly removed it in one fell swoop. Your bra soon followed, landing in a heap with your sweater on the floor. Rafael’s mouth was immediately on your exposed flesh. He squeezed your breasts together and swirled his tongue over them. His teeth gently grazed one nipple, then the other, causing you to shudder. You wrapped your arms around Rafael’s neck, and leaned over him, as he continued his oral fixation on your breasts. The ache that had developed between your legs had grown and your panties were were starting to soak with your desire. “Your tits are amazing,” Rafael groaned appreciatively before mouthing them once more. His touch and tongue on you was driving you crazy. You pulled away once more, your hands pulling at the hem of Rafael’s sweater, encouraging him to remove it. Rafael nodded and removed his sweater and undershirt altogether. You ran your hands over his chest, and then up to his shoulders, and then back down his arms, squeezing his biceps. Rafael pulled you tightly against him, so that you were chest to chest. Your foreheads were pressed against each others and you could hear his unsteady breathing in your ear. “Bedroom, now,” you panted. Rafael nodded. You squeaked as he stood, lifting you up on the way. You wrapped your legs around his hips, your arms around his neck as he brought you over to his bedroom. Rafael set you down gently onto the floor. You kicked off your booties and quickly removed your jeans, leaving you clad in just your lace underwear. Rafael stared at you with quiet intensity, taking in your near-nude form. For a split second, you could have sworn you heard him growl. “Fuck.” “Isn’t that the plan?” you teased, hopping onto the bed. Rafael chuckled low, as he kicked off his own shoes and unzipped his pants, stepping out of them. You felt the bed dip with his weight he joined you on the bed. Rafael kissed you once more as he lowered you onto the mattress. As your tongues dueled, Rafael’s hand made its way down your chest, to your stomach, to the apex of your thighs. Instinctively you parted your legs for him. You moaned as you felt his fingers push the thin material of your underwear aside and slip along your folds, teasing. “So wet,” Rafael purred appreciatively. You brought his mouth back down to yours, and Rafael used the opportunity to slip two fingers inside of you. The kiss broke as you gasped at the intrusion. Rafael slowly stroked you, his thumb rubbing slow haphazard circles on your clit. You could feel your arousal dripping down your thighs as he continued his ministrations. Rafael dipped his head to your breasts once more, mouthing a globe as he continued to finger fuck you. His tongue flicked back and forth over a nipple. “Don’t stop,” you moaned. “Oh God.” Rafael moved up and pressed a small kiss to the edge of your mouth. “Never,” he promised. As the familiar coil in your belly grew, Rafael inserted another finger, stretching you in the most delightful way. You groaned again, as you grasped the sheet, nearly balling the fabric in your hands. Rafael’s speed increased as he continued to finger fuck you; at one point he took the opportunity to scissor his fingers. You writhed against his hand, as pleasure seared your body. “Come for me,” Rafael purred in your ear. Your body stiffened as you your orgasm cascaded over you, Rafael’s name escaping your lips. Rafael continued to pump his fingers through your orgasm, before slowly coming to a stop. He made a big show of licking fingers before kissing you once more. You could taste yourself on his tongue, and you pulled him closer. Rafael shifted his body so that his body covered yours. Rafael pulled away once more, so he could sit on his haunches and remove his boxers. Rafael’s cock sprung free; pre-cum leaked from the head. Rafael jerked himself over you, his eyes were heavy lidded with lust. “I have to ask,” Rafael began. “Are you sure about this?” Propping up onto your elbows, you nodded. “Never more sure.” And with that, you sat fully up and pushed Rafael onto the bed. The bed creaked as he landed onto his back. You positioned yourself so that you were in between his legs and took his cock into your mouth. The feel of your warm mouth on his cock, caused him to hiss in appreciation. “God, you’re such a good cock sucker,” Rafael groaned as he sat on his elbows watching his erection slip in and out of your lips. You hollowed your cheeks bobbing faster, enjoying how thick and heavy his cock was in your mouth. You relished in the salty taste of his pre-cum. You relaxed your jaw and took him deeper, triggering your gag reflex. You took a deep inhalation, pushing past the reflex. Your eyes watered but you ignored it, focusing on the task at hand. Rafael’s hands tangled in your hair, guiding you. “Fuck your mouth is so good, amor,” he purred. You ran you tongue down his length and back up, swirling over the head of his cock. You pointed your tongue and flicked it on the underside of the head, where it met the shaft, before taking him fully once more in your mouth. You could feel Rafael’s thighs shake, a sure sign he was close to coming.  You sat fully up once more, taking a breather. You spat onto your hand and gave Rafael a couple of strokes, enjoying the sight beneath you. Rafael pulled you up to him, kissing you hard, tasting himself on you. He rolled you, so this time you were on your back. Rafael lowered himself onto your body increase more and instinctively, you wrapped one leg around his hip. You reached down and held your panties to the side. Rafael pressed the head of his cock into your soaking cunt, and then slid into you slowly, inch by inch. You groaned as he stretched you; you almost forgot how well endowed and thick his cock was. You felt wonderfully full; there was a slight burn mixed with pleasure. You gripped his biceps and bit your lip, your eyes fluttering shut. With a snap of his hips, Rafael bottomed out and fully sunk into you. “Don’t move,” Rafael half-groaned, half whispered. “I know,” you whispered in response. “I need a minute too.” The reunion of your bodies was almost too much - it felt as if every nerve ending was exploding like tiny fireworks. You realized in that moment, despite all the one night stands you had, no one felt as good as Rafael - no one made you feel as complete as he did. After a beat, Rafael began to thrust - slowly at first, but soon enough the tempo quickened; the obscene sound skin hitting skin and moans of pleasure filled the bedroom. Drops of wetness hit your face and what you thought were beads of sweat rolling off of Rafael, were actually tears. You reached up to cup Rafael’s face. “Rafi—,” you began but he cut you off. “I’m so sorry,” Rafael cried, nearly collapsing onto you. His body shook, wracked with sobs. You froze initially, taken aback by surprise. You then bear-hugged Rafael, wrapping your legs and arms tightly around him. “I forgive you,” you whispered into his ear. “Rafael, I forgive you.” You knew you needed to say it out loud for the both of you. Rafael lifted his head from the crook of your neck and stared at you. His green eyes were wet with tears. “I mean it,” you replied, stroking his cheek. “I forgive you. I'm yours.” “And I, you,” Rafael replied softly with a smile. You both kissed and for awhile you stayed like that - a lazy makeout session. You both enjoyed the simple reunion. Rafael’s erection softened somewhat earlier and as you two shifted, you could feel him slip out. Rafael felt embarrassed, and he began to apologize. “I’m sor-“ he began but you pressed a finger to his lips. You shook your head and pushed Rafael off of you, so that he was flat on his back once more. You gently gave him a few strokes before moving to straddle him. You languidly rubbed your wet pussy against his length, soaking his cock with your juices. You continued rubbing yourself against his length feeling him harden beneath you. Rafael groaned as he watched your soaking cunt slide repeatedly over his cock. “If you keep that up, I am going to cum,” Rafael warned. Smirking, you shifted and rotated, so that your ass was to him. Rafael hummed appreciatively at your ass. Adjusting your legs, so that they sat on the inside of his thighs, you guided his cock back into you. You both moaned once more, as you began to set the tempo. You rode his cock from behind, relishing the full feeling once more. Rafael gave your ass a good smack and you groaned at the sting. Your tempo quickened and Rafael places his hands on your hips guiding you over and over onto his cock. Watching his cock slide in and out of you from behind turned Rafael on more than he could even imagine. “You look so good with my cock in your pussy,” Rafael grunted. “Fuck, fuck, fu-ck,” you whined. Looking behind, you slowed your thrusts, rolling your hips, teasingly. Rafael took the opportunity to smack your ass hard, leaving an imprint of his hand on your skin. Rafael sucked on his finger, thoroughly wetting it with his saliva before touching your puckered rosebud. Rafael fingered your asshole, gently probing before slipping a finger in. You cried out in pleasure and leaned forward more, still rocking slowly on his cock. Rafael used his free hand to smack your ass once more as you continued to fuck him. “Come for me,” Rafael commanded. You reached down and furiously rubbed your clit.  As you were already at the precipice, it didn’t take long for you to come undone. You shouted his name repeatedly as Rafael continued to thrust, deeper and harder. Feeling your walls flutter against his cock, Rafael stiffened and with a roar, he came, shouting your name with his release. You slumped forward, completely spent. Neither one of you moved. Finally, you slipped off Rafael’s cock and moved to snuggle with him. “That was amazing,” you sighed. Rafael’s chest rose and fell heavily, as he tried to catch his breath. You hummed as you listened to the rapid beat of his heart.

Rafael pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You’re amazing. I love you.” You tilted your head up and placed a small kiss on the underside of his jaw. Sleep befell the two of you quickly, wrapped in each other’s embrace. TBC...

[radamazard]

The Face of Love

My second piece for @theninozine

It was a blast participating and getting to contribute to something with so many talented artist and writers! ❤️

—————————————————

There were many things on Earth that Adrien had loved at first sight. His mother and her warm, gentle smiles. Romantic Comedy movies and how they always ended happily and well, despite all the hurt that happened throughout the films. Ladybug, and how she bravely pushed passed her fears and insecurities to be the beautiful, ass kicking bad ass she was.

Yet none of these had lasted. His mother? Missing for years. Rom Coms? A lie that could never be his reality. Ladybug? A brilliant and wonderfully close friend still. A best friend! But… perhaps his love for her had been immature, had boarded on praise and idolment.

And none of them had been able to be there once his father had kicked him unceremoniously to the curb after one too many fights and some particularly sharp words had been exchanged. But you know who had been?

Nino.

Nino, with his eyes like liquid amber, flecked with the most glistening of gold.

Nino, with a smile so genuine that it crinkled at the edges, and a laugh so full that it often left him heaving and making those silly, cute little gasps.

Nino, with his hands as soft as his heart was big, who cupped Adrien’s cheeks and whispered that he’d never be alone.

His first guy friend, who’d stuck by his side since they day they’d met as awkward, lonely teens. Who now, at eighteen, held his hand and gently tugged him into his apartment. There were no words as he brought in Adrien’s bags and sat them in his bedroom, and none were needed as Nino pulled the blond into his arms, letting him weep upon his shoulder.

“You don’t gotta tell me what’s up, Dri,” Nino told him, with the same tenderness as his embrace that held his best friend close. “But you’re free to stay here for as long as you need, ‘kay? Heck, you’re free to stay here forever if you want!”

Nino’s laugh, that bubbled and cracked in ways that he’d once playfully teased him for, left Adrien feeling warmer than he had in a long time.

——————

“He said WHAT?” Nino cried out, looking just about ready to leap from his sixth floor window and tear out Gabriel’s throat out. And if it wasn’t for how tight Adrien was gripping his hand, he may very well have attempted it. “That bastard! Who the fuck talks to their son like that? Like seriously, fuck him, dude! You were right to chew him out!”

Adrien hadn’t felt like he had. At least, part of him hadn’t. Another part was near delirious with giddy joy for having finally fully stood his ground, for having refused to hold back and letting his father know just how he felt. Of course it had cost him a hom-

No. Not a home. Homes were meant to be warm and safe and where you felt free to be yourself. And that mansion? That wasn’t home. No, home was…

Forest green flickered up to Nino’s ranting face, filled with such a righteous fury, mixed with a great care and compassion for his disowned best bro.

Home. Home was like… like Nino.

Home was on the brunet’s beat up old couch, with the cherry tart stains from last New Year’s, courtesy of some very awfully excellent puns on his part. Where they’d laughed and snored and cried.

Home was by Nino’s side, as they huddled together in a big old blanket and watched crappy horror movies.

Home was in Nino’s arms, holding him tight in joy or sorrow, always knowing he was safe and accepted and oh so loved.

“Ya know what, Dri? Fuck it! This is your home now! Sure, it’s only got one bed, but hey, it ain’t the first time we’ve snuggled down together. If you want your own I’m sure I can work something out. Maybe clear out my studio, I’ve been meaning to pair down anyway…”

Adrien felt his heart simultaneously warm and skip a single, fluttering beat.

———————

“Seriously, man, it’s fine! It’s about time I got to be the one to spoil your ass anyway,” Nino insisted with a grin, as he held out the lopsided ice cream cone for Adrien to take. Which he did, albeit with a look akin to tentative guilt.

“I know, it’s just… you’re already doing so much for me. I can’t pay any rent or help with the bills or groceries…” Adrien trailed off, dropping his gaze to his shuffling feet. “I’m already enough of a burden on you, I don’t wa-“

Chocolate ice cream was smashed to his lips before he could even hope to finish talking, and even if he were to try, Nino’s sudden serious gaze was enough to keep him quiet.

“You are NOT a burden bro, okay? Don’t you think that for even a second!”

“Bu-“

“No buts!” Nino cut in, so sharp that Adrien near flinched. Yet seconds later that harsh edge was gone, leaving behind a gentle pleading that left his breath hitching. “You’re never a burden to me. Ever. Okay? Not now, not in the future, not even when you’re being a total bratty brat who need a swift soda to the face. I freakin’ love you, Adrien, and Plagg will crave Kraft Singles before I regret having you with me for even a second. You got that?”

It wasn’t the tears that glistened, nor the trembling smile that clued Adrien in to just how he was feeling.

No. It was how the cold hollowness that had dug it’s way deep within his soul, something he’d grown hauntingly used to, now sprung to life with a roaring fire… A love that blazed like none before, making him feel blinder than he thought possible.

How had Adrien never noticed just what he’d had by his side, just WHO he had by his side? Just how blinded by his own fantasies and expectations had he been?

Because falling for Nino wasn’t like in the movies. It wasn’t a spectacular moment of fireworks and gentle sighs as the sun framed his love’s smiling face. No. It was quiet and familiar and comfortable, but new at the same time. Like an old sweater that was now a favourite to wear.

And in that moment, with Nino wiping away his tears without a lick of judgement, Adrien couldn’t imagine a person he’d rather be beside.

———————

Honestly he wished there was more he could do.

Nino deserved sculptures of flowers, declarations written in the sky! The most fancy of chocolates and candle lit dinners at beautifully romantic restaurants.

Yet all he could afford with the remains of his scrounged savings was a derpy turtle plush and a bouquet of flowers on sale. At the very least they were sunflowers though, the one bloom he knew Nino had a certain fondness for. But still, in Adrien’s eyes he deserved so much BETTER.

Maybe though, just maybe… it would be enough.

Maybe he could be enough.

So with a swallowed breath Adrien readied himself, standing right by the door as it swung upon, revealing a shocked Nino, exhausted from a long day at the radio station.

“I, uh… There someone you’re tryin’ to surprise, Dri?” Nino chuckled, a certain nervous energy just barely noted. “Trust you to try to woo someone the hella classically cute way. So, who’s the special girl? Or guy?” There was a hint of hope there, that drove Adrien to feel bolder, to attempt to channel his inner alley cat.

“Only the cutest guy around~”

“Cutest guy, huh? So you’re surprising yourself then?”

When since had Nino became one SMOOTH motherfucker? Not that he’d let that deter him!

“Nope. It’s a guy who’s cuter actually than me. I know, I know, surprising, huh? But it’s true. He’s cuter than me… both inside and out. Really though, it’s his kind heart that won me over. So loyal and supportive. So willing to do everything he can to make his friends smile, to bring them what joy he can.”

Oh how wonderful it was to watch Nino switch from amused to hopeful to near holding his breath, unable to keep his cheeks from blazing like the sun above.

“He… He sounds like a real catch, huh? Must be one hell of a guy to get such a glowing report, my dude,” Nino muttered, feigning his glasses were smudged just to give him an excuse to clean them. To not have to look Adrien in the eye just in case he was wrong.

“Oh yeah. You’re definitely one hell of a guy, Nino,” Adrien whispered, pressing is megar gifts into the blushing man’s hands. “And maybe… maybe you wanna be my guy? Like, romantically. You know, like a boyfriend and all…”

The anxiety that flittered through him was awful, as Adrien watched Nino silently admire the flowers and chuckle at the wonky eyed turtle. Carefully they joined his keys on the door side table, before he finally lifted his gaze to meet Adrien’s nervous eyes.

“I’d have to be freakin’ nuts to say no to an offer like that,” Nino replied, with a chuckle so warm that Adrien finally felt free to release his breath. Not that he had time to steady it, as Nino swooped right on in, until their foreheads just barely touched. “Nothing would make me happier than to ‘be your guy’, you ridiculous ass dorkasaurous!”

Oh how freeing it felt to laugh, especially when that laugh was against Nino’s lips, a kiss that was more giggles and smiles than anything Hollywood.

Adrien wouldn’t have traded it for the most perfect kiss in the world.

For nothing could be better than this.

Than Nino’s giddy giggles snorts, making his glasses fog and slide down his nose as he stole kiss after kiss in all his beautifully dorky glory.

To Adrien, THAT was the face of true love.