#freedom from dash hell

[icefang111]

Hey if anyone else wants to revert your dashboard to non-twitter days as I am now finally free:

https://github.com/enchanted-sword/dashboard-unfucker/tree/main

and good old Tampermonkey means I am no longer in hell world!!! Thank you so much enchanted-sword!!!! I can finally use desktop tumblr again, blessed

[breakswater]

jett would wear cloaks

[henryshakesmear]

What the hell is going on in the LGBTQ+ community lately

Maybe I'm too deep into a bubble or maybe I'm only now seeing the weird side of the community, but the amount of biphobia, aro/acephobia, transmedicalism, anti-transmasculinity, lesbians hating on trans lesbians and people who wanna separate the TQ+ from the LGB on my dash lately is incredible.

Why are we infighting at such a critical time

Why do we have to micromanage who's allowed to play with us like we're 5 year olds picking tag teams

None of you are more mature or more palatable to people who hate queer people if you reject parts of the community or modern developments of labels.

It's not in favor of our striving for freedom if you break free from one cage just to impose another upon yourself.

Many of y'all need to take a lesson in fluidity and acceptance. Sit yourselves down in class next to the homophobes and transphobes, because stubborn single-mindedness is not exclusive to people who aren't queer.

[hirayalore]

“unbelievable,” OLIVER WOOD mutters as he spots you and the whole ravenclaw quidditch team already flying around the pitch.

the sun is only about to rise, the fog surrounding the place is just starting to clear, and he’s becoming more annoyed at the fact that not only are your team stealing their time, but even managed to be here earlier than they are.

what makes it worse is that he knows that he’s the first one who reserved it for training since the match between gryffindor and ravenclaw is fast approaching.

not to mention that he does particularly remember reminding you that you better not take over any of the days he intends to let his team practice when he (stupidly) showed you his timetable for classes and quidditch sessions.

“____!” he shouts your name, and upon hearing it from below, you look at him, a smirk automatically making its way on your lips.

“let’s take a short break, everyone!” you instruct your team, flying down then and dropping down right in front of oliver. “good morning, captain wood. fancy seeing you here.”

the formality triggers oliver’s annoyance even more, but for the rest of the gryffindor team who remain standing behind him, it brings them to hide their snickers and amused expressions.

after all, they—and pretty much the whole student body—are quite aware that you and oliver have been dating for almost two years now, and this thing happening right here is just one of your schemes to playfully get on your competitive boyfriend’s nerves.

“____,” oliver says your name again with a sigh this time, voice not daring to go a volume higher now that you’re near despite the situation, “please tell me why the bloody hell are you and your team on this pitch this morning?”

you put on your best innocent expression. “well, we’re training, of course.”

“yes, but i can specifically recall that i booked this pitch for the whole day. so, it’s a great wonder to me why i’m seeing you ravenclaws here.”

“hm, but are you sure you booked it the whole day though? from the schedule that you showed me, it says there that it starts at 9am, which is…” you glance at your wristwatch, “two hours from now. meaning until then—”

“you have the freedom to use the pitch,” oliver deadpans.

you grin. “exactly, my love. you and your team can certainly wait, right? though i’d appreciate it if you don’t hang around here while we’re playing. i might accuse you of stealing our strategy.”

“strategy? didn’t know you had one when we take into account the way you play.”

“well, considering i’ve already won two games against you, maybe apparently not having a strategy might work on gryffindor too.”

“one game was won by default.”

“and the other one?”

“pure luck, of course.”

you laugh, and oliver’s lips twitch, like he’s suppressing to do the same just to commit to the act he’s doing.

“can we head to the great hall first for breakfast, wood?” a weasley twin pipes in amidst your impromptu staring contest with your boyfriend.

oliver glances behind him and nods reluctantly. “fine. the rest of you can go get breakfast. but we meet here at exactly 9am. got it?”

the team says a chorus of yes and proceeds on walking back to the direction of the castle. oliver, however, stays in his spot and raises his eyebrows at you, the mask of annoyance seen on his face a while ago seemingly gone now.

“what?” you ask, still with that teasing grin of yours.

“you promised.”

“i didn’t promise anything.”

“you told me you weren’t going to steal any of my days for quidditch practices.”

“technically, i’m not stealing as it is not your time yet.”

“always such a smartass.”

“that’s what you get for dating a ravenclaw,” you say, mounting your broom before giving him a quick kiss on the mouth and dashing back upwards where your other members are already zooming around.

oliver shakes his head in disbelief. it’s unfair how you can get away with shenanigans that he typically would curse another team for. “i expect the pitch to be empty by 8:55, alright?” he bellows, just so you can hear him from where you’re situated.

“aye, aye, captain!”

gentle reminder: this author loves feedback! let her know your thoughts if you enjoyed reading this fic and you’ll add 100+ points in her writing motivation meter ♡

୭ৎ ࣪ ׅ ⊹ reposted from my other account !

[karlachian]

baldur's gate 3 wyll ravengard grand duke coronation tumblr simulator

🩸 bloodlover

he said WHAT about me

🦴 jonfromshop

i love <3 that we are livign in this day and age of baldurian politics. this is fucking awesome

2,235 notes

🪼 slenderweaver

TWENTY. FOUR.

#AND WHAT WAS I DOING AT TWENTY FOUR. FUCKALL!!!!!

6 notes

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

now why is the coronation happening in the middle of the night. some of us have jobs!

🐦‍⬛ ulderravengard Follow

the new duke consort is kind of like an evil stepmother but for the city

🦴 jonfromshop

AREN'T YOU SUPPOSED TO BE READING OUT THE GREAT LAWS RIGHT NOW LMFAOOOOOOOOOOOO

4,458 notes

🌊 tavalina

very extremely proud of one of my best friends in the whole world wyll ravengard. can't make it to the coronation because of the whole bein g stuck in hell with my wife thing can a sweet mutual please. keep me updated.

🐺 simfolicity Follow

duke consort astarion lastname has clearly micromanaged the whole thing and ulder ravengard and him might be trying to kill each other during the ceremony. wyll is just happy to be there i think

🌊 tavalina

oh okay so business as usual

🏹 highharper

business as usual

49 notes

💋 bladethatthang

why is NO ONE talking about the geopolitical ramifications of the future grand duke being engaged to marry a CLEARLY evil looking mean cunt of an elf. not to MENTION the problematic age gap.

🩸 bloodlover

mad because he's fucking me and not you????????

💋 bladethatthang

i genuinely wish we all had died with the elder brain

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

HERITAGE POST

#bringing this back for coronation day

38,493 notes

🪼 slenderweaver

i;m sorry. wyll ravengard is TWENTY FOUR YEARS OLD? HE SHOULD'VE BEEN AT THE ELFSONG

🛎️ i-live-in-the-dumbwaiter

quite famously he was at the elfsong. like i understand where you're coming from but that was a whole thing. he was very polite about ordering food at 3 in the morrow in the sense that he didn't. do that.

🪼 slenderweaver

oh so now we are fucking doing elfsong pedantics about the TWENTY FOUR YEAR OLD RUNNING OUR CITY.

348 notes

📦 zhentingthatrim Follow

this is so fucking stupid i WANTED to do a coup a mutiny an overthrowing even today during the coronation but no one wants to fucking do revolution anymore. you say can we PLEASE try and kill the new grand duke for trade opportunities and freedom of will. and then they will say well why would i want to do that. wyll ravengard is soooooooooo handsome and sweet and nice. trying to kill him would be RUDE. WE USED TO BE A FUCKING CITY.

🩸 bloodlover

bunk 42, flaming fist barracks, basilisk gate

📦 zhentingthatrim Follow

AYO?????

🔥 florricking Follow

open the door

8,376 notes

✨ princessofhousenightstar

do your required reading you little wretches and understand that i am here fundamentally to talk about wyll where he can't see it. i love the man but sometimes i like to keep things to myself. anyways doesn't he look sooooooo dashing in his coronation outfittttttttt 🥰 i made ittttttt

🪼 slenderweaver

does anyone remember when this was an embroidery blog

🏹 highharper

you are a strange strange little man astarion

#HOW has he not found this blog yet is the question i think

16 notes

🩸 bloodlover

i want ulder ravengard dead

🗡️ bladeoffrontiers

:(

🩸 bloodlover

i want ulder ravengard mildly inconvenienced

🐦‍⬛ ulderravengard Follow

we are literally tumblr mutuals. for your evil and nefarious purposes no doubt.

🪡 tailormadewares Follow

we're all going to fucking die

6,459 notes

🦴 jonfromshop

wh

the grand duke isn't an option because he always sweeps.

[yanderedrabbles]

Yandere sugar daddy made me giggle with him buying me a car 🚗 Cuz I can’t drive…This then led me to think how fucked I am in a relationship with any of your yanderes cuz I’m practically a sitting duck 🦆 What am I going to do if I wanna get away from them? Wait on the side of the road to take a public transport bus? 🚌 Or do I gotta bike my way to freedom? 🚲 😭

Speaking of vehicles though…for the yanderes that this question is appreciable…what’re the cars they drive vs. the dream car or car that you think fits their aesthetic? 🚗

Also who’s ok with me being their cute lil passenger princess? 👑

girl, it's so embarrassing but I can't drive either 😭

Atp, I think we'll need to Uber our way to freedom. Tip the drive 100% in case of damages caused by deranged exes.

Yandere boys and their cars

Yandere! Boyfriend definitely drives a Jeep wrangler. He's a big guy and he needs the extra space. I also see him as the more outdoorsy type, so a Jeep is perfect for all his hiking and climbing gear. He loves his car for the sole reason that you like sitting shotgun in summer, the roof down and your hair blowing in the wind. It makes for a damn pretty sight.

Yandere! State Trooper is assigned one of those State Police Dodge Challengers. All American muscle that thrums up through the seats. If there's ever a car chase or an evading suspect, he's first on the scene. On quiet nights, he'll head to the highway and gun it. V8 engine roaring even louder than the sirens. He's not supposed to, but he likes taking you for a drive now and then. He likes the way you cling to the dash and shake when he blows through the speed limit.

Yandere! Cop is a certified Ford pickup kind of guy. It's got space, it's got power but most importantly, it doesn't stand out. This is Middle America baby, they're everywhere. When he follows you, he knows for a fact you won't notice him. His only customization is the extremely tinted windows. Can't have you seeing his face when he takes all those pictures of you, now can he?

Yandere! Academic Rival has trustfund money to spend and his daddy's whole garage to choose from. For everyday, I can see him driving a BMW or Audi roadster. Sleek, sporty and modern. But on the weekends, when he's driving up the coast to his country house, he's definitely taking something vintage. He has a whole collection of luxury old money convertibles - every single one of them something you expect to see at St. Moritz.

Yandere! Mobster drives a Cadillac Town Sedan. It's got a powerful engine to outrun the pigs and plenty of trunk space to stash smuggled alcohol. He absolutely adores taking you on long drives. Windows open to catch the fresh air, picnic basket on the back seat, your head resting on his shoulder on the way home... What's not to love?

Yandere! Sugar Daddy is new money. And a tech nerd. So I see him mostly driving electric cars, maybe a Porsche Taycan for 'everyday use' (who the hell drives a Porsche like a regular commuter car? Your Croesus rich boyfriend, that's who). And something extra luxurious for weekends and date nights - probably something like the Yangwang U9. He loves messing around with the extra features and plugging the cars into his computer diagnostic system. Surprisingly, he's not that fond of actually driving. He much prefers you do it and let him enjoy the scenery.

Yandere! Werewolf drives a vintage cherry red Mustang. He bought it cheap off an older guy who hated the repairs, and spent all summer working on it. By extension, that meant you spent all summer sprawled across the backseat, thumbing through fashion magazines and listening to golden oldies on the radio. It's got plenty of space and if he was the kinda guy to make a move on a girl at the drive in, this would be the car to do it in.

[godhandler]

Ex-boyfriend Gojo who shows up at your house 5 years later. He looks a bit different now. 

|Souls are laid to rest after the death of the body. As for Gojo Satoru, his soul rests with you. In other words, your terrible ex-boyfriend is having way too much fun haunting you|

|satoru gojo x reader, fluff, lil bitty angst, gojo being gojo, 1400 words, desi-coded reader|

previous series masterlist

Sometimes you wonder if you are a character trapped in a story. Ant in a glacier, you shout and kick but are ultimately powerless, swept along by a narrative you are but a puppet to. It’s nothing new, you’ve felt this way every day for the past almost 30 years; days that keep passing by while you remain where you were.

Your author could have written you a story where you’re a princess and the dashing knight falls in love with you. Or perhaps where you’re a powerful elf magician who conquers the universe. Hell, even a side character in Mob Psycho 100 gets a nicer life than you. 

It only follows that your author is bored and talentless and cruel, because why else would they torment you like this? Why else would the love of your life come back to haunt you?

“... hey, honeycheeks?” Satoru opens an eye. For the past few days since he appeared he’s taken to sleeping (or quietly hovering horizontally) on his side of the bed next to you. “Why are you still up?”

Lately it feels like everything you do is done through you, rather than by you. You have to do something, feel something, assert your freedom of action. Make you feel like a person again. 

You scream for a full 20 seconds before Satoru, aghast, claps a hand (that passes right through you) to your mouth, worried that the neighbours will start banging on the wall, a stray ‘shut the fuck up!’ wafting in through the window. You haven’t slept well since he got here, except, you know, when you passed out. If your current mental state is anything to go, he needs to get you to bed before you lose it completely. 

“No– get off– I have to–are you real, Satoru? Are you? Am I?” 

Satoru’s never been able to hide his thoughts from you, so you can see clear on his face the fear and worry about you. A tinge of pity too. You’re behaving so erratically, so unlike the calm rational lady he remembers you as, one who took all of life’s curveballs in stride. Has he hurt you that much? What does it say about the kind of person Satoru is if his reappearance hurts you more than his disappearance? 

The ghostly form is warm, warm as the sun’s heat on a winter day, and he opens his arms to call you to its warmest core– his heart. You lie back down, pulled into the bedsheets and you shock yourself when you reflexively pull the blankets over both your heads. Like you used to. Like you haven’t forgotten.

Satoru glows too. Gentle light of fireflies and starlight. All humans do, you remember reading in your physics textbook: all heat-emitting bodies emit light energy as well. Satoru is all soul and no body to bar the glow– he lights up your little cave under the blankets. 

“I’m real, my love.” 

Why does it wrap thorns around your insides? Why do the tears burn down your neck, refusing to obey your composure? Why are you losing your grip on everything?

“I’ve always imagined that you’d come back.” Your whispers slip out before you can help it. “You’d stand on the doorstep with a huge bouquet of red roses and chocolate-covered-strawberries. I’ll open the door, and be so shocked! I’d say, “So you think you can just buy me flowers and I’d forgive you?” and you’d get on your knees and beg me to take you back, or at least let you inside the house. Our house. Then I’d say, “Fine, but you have to leave after tea!” And you don’t. You just never leave. Ha ha–” your suddenly realise what you’re saying, though not enough to regret it. “– I know, it’s cliche, don’t tease me… But I knew you, Satoru. I knew it’d never happen; I knew that you were done with me for good.”

And after a full year, Satoru Gojo’s blueflame eyes wet again with the unbearable weight of the past. 

“But if I knew that you’d come back like this–” you bury your head into Satoru’s unruly cloud of hair. His fingers grasp you tight into his embrace, shoulders heave with every sob that wrecks through his body. He can’t look you in the eye. How could he? He’s done so much wrong, so much that cannot be fixed, left so much unfinished. “–I’d have wanted you to stay away.”

“You gave me some of my best memories.” He weeps. Ghost tears fall that do not wet your bosom. “Some of my best days in life. I– I came back– I couldn’t–” 

He chokes and waits for the uncontrollable hiccups to die down, a tic of his whenever he cries too hard. The first time it happened was when you pushed him down a slide he was a bit scared of, and he kept hiccuping and heaving until his distraught nanny took him to his pediatric doctor. He was 2 then. He would’ve been 29 now. 

His voice steadies enough to talk, chest still shaking as he cries. He can’t help it. He’s given up trying to. “I don’t know much, but this much I can figure out. I’m done for, I’ve passed away. I’m sorry, my love, I tried not to, but I died. I’m sorry. It was a fight and I couldn’t win this time. Don’t worry, it’s over now, my students defeated the terrorist, everyone’s safe, you’re safe, love. Everything will go back to how it was–”

“–it won’t,” you cry. “Not without you.”

“There’s no point mourning the dead, I was loved enough in my life. I mean,” he finally has the courage to look at you, allowing a watery smile. There’s tears even in his teeth. “I got to be loved by you. What more can I ask? And that’s what I figured out, I think. Tell me, love, what do you see when you look at me? What am I wearing?”

“Huh? You look just like the day you left. 5 years ago.” 

“Am I jacked like Musclemon?”

You can’t help but laugh. “No, silly, you look exactly like the day you left. Tall lean muscles, sure, but I won’t call you Musclemon. The chocolate bear hoodie you were wearing, grey sweatpants, the blindfold I gave you.” 

The last one was specially hand-made by you. You had to call in a favour from your blacksmithing friends to create a light-weight lead composite shield, which you then tailored foam and padding to create the most opaque blindfold possible. To help him sleep better at night.   

“That’s now how others see me.”

“Others can see you? Who's ‘others’?”

“No, no, not everyone. Just some people I couldn’t say goodbye to. Get closure properly, you know. As far as I can tell, it’s Suguru, Shoko, the children. They all saw me as how they remembered me.” He said. He’s always loved to explain, despite the fact that he’s crying right now. “I don’t know if this happens to everyone or just me, but at the time of death, your soul goes to wherever they find comfort. Mine was split into a few separate pieces, but those parts are done. I talked enough to everyone, bothered them till they told me to go, ha-ha… Suguru’s waiting for me to leave with him.”

“Suguru’s soul?”

“Yes.”

“Leave where? When?”

“I don’t mind, I’ll go wherever he takes me, I trust him. And I’ll go when you tell me to. When you’re done with me.” He whispers. Secrets beyond the grave that he entrusts with you. “But if you keep me with you, if you don’t tell me to leave, I never will. Not this time.”

You must be imagining it, but Satoru seems to get heavier, even though all he is is a ball of cloud. Almost like he was actually lying tangled with you. Must be your imagination. 

Clearly, neither of you are doing very well, or at least well enough to trust your senses. Come tomorrow morning, the barriers will come up again, the awkwardness of proper social conduct seeping through with the sunlight, childish words will go unsaid. 

“I loved you, Satoru. I love you.” It’s the truth, no point in hiding it. It’s destiny beyond himself that his soul came to you. “But more than that I miss you.”

Maybe if you prayed very, very hard, you could convince your author to write you a better story. 

a/n: reader also sees gojo with the engagement band on his finger she just can't get herself to say it out loud

gojo sees himself as nothing eslse but two glowing blue eyes

geto saw gojo as the 17 year old student he left him as. just to clarify, gojo's soul was "split" or in better words, different versions of his souls talked to his loved ones after his death and those versions have found peace and moved on. since geto is the only one dead in that line-up, in a way, he's waited for a year for him to die and join him. geto was prepared to wait as long as he needed to (he hoped that it would be long). reader's version is the only one that's left unresolved. do you think gojo wants to be resolved/freed?

[anli-rambles]

Alright, since I'm seeing this discourse again on my dash, I'm gonna give my two cents even if no one asked.

I think the thing the "Haytham is a colonizer" crowd fundamentally gets wrong about this is that Haytham is a walking contradiction. That's the whole point of his character. His actions are in complete opposition to his actual core beliefs. Let me explain.

I'm not gonna excuse him working with racists and supporting an ideology that would essentially subjucate the entire human race in the name of arbitrary peace, because that's definitely colonizer mentality and that's inexcusable. Whether or not Haytham believes in the shit he says doesn't matter at the end of the day because the result is the same. That much is clear, and this isn't what I'm trying to justify.

The thing is, this same crowd will happily accuse those of us who like Haytham's character of actively sympathizing with colonizers. There are weirdos in every fandom so I'm not gonna deny that some may do that (in which case I do not claim them), but I can tell you that the majority of us don't. After lurking in this circle for over a year I can confidentally say that an overwhelming majority of us hate every Templar working for him except Shay, Weekes and Gist. The reason we like Haytham is, as I said before, because his core beliefs align with Assassin ideology way more than they do with Templar stuff.

The thing that bothers me the most about the "Haytham is a colonizer" crowd is that they have no interest in digging just a little deeper because if they did, they would see how glaringly obvious it is. Haytham hates the Templars. Everytime one of them does anything that follows Templar ideology, he deludes himself into believing they just "went Rogue" and executes them. He did it with Church. He did it with Braddock. He hated Washington's guts and wanted him dead when the guy embodied Templar ideals far more than anyone in his circle did. He did nothing to stop Ratonhnhaké:ton from killing Biddle even if he was on the Aquila with him at the time.

He had no interest in land expansion - in fact, his goal was to prevent it from happening. Unfortunately, he trusted Johnson with the task, and when the man decided mass execution was the way to go and subsequently got killed by Ratonhnhaké:ton, Haytham felt no empathy for him. In his journal, he even said Johnson asked for it by choosing mass murder of the Haudenosaunee chieftains because they refused to sell their land. His endorsement of Charles Lee is also a complete farce. He admits himself that Charles has very little chances of suplanting Washington because he's "too British" to appeal to the American settlers but that he'd rather work with him over Washington.

Hell, Haytham is the one who tells Ratonhnhaké:ton that Washington is a fraud who only cares about the freedom of white men specifically. He calls him out on it and he's furious. That's why he calls Ratonhnhaké:ton 'naive' - it's because Ratonhnhaké:ton fails to see how the people he works for give no shits about him and his people (and he isn't wrong on that, Ratonhnhaké:ton actually does believe supporting the Revolution will save his people up until then). He's not being patronizing here, his whole rant is in response to Ratonhnhaké:ton telling him Washington fights for freedom and that he was chosen by 'the people', when in reality 'the people' were a bunch of his buddies gathering in a room and going 'yup, Washington's our guy lads, case closed'. Ratonhnhaké:ton even admits that it's Haytham who made him realize this in the loading screen after the Sequence is over.

The whole reason Haytham doesn't defect from the Templar order is because the grooming/brainwashing runs too deep, and admitting that becoming a Templar wasn't his choice would be admitting that he failed to do the one thing his father wanted him to do - to choose for himself. So he deludes himself into believing that no, he did choose this way of life, even if he disagrees with pretty much everything the Templars stand for. And that's why he's easier to sympathize with.

I'll also add that I find it very ironic that Haytham critics aren't as willing to call Achilles out on his own bullshit, because what he does with Ratonhnhaké:ton is very reminiscent of what white people did to the First Nations irl. He barely knows this kid and already decides to use him as a surrogate son to process his grief through. He strips him of his Kanien'kehá:ka identity almost as soon as they meet. I'll never forget his "I'm not even gonna try and pronounce that" after Ratonhnhaké:ton tells him his name.

(Duncan is so right when he tells him later when they meet that he should use his real name. He has no reason to, he already immediately gets clocked as a Native whenever he meets people, Achilles' excuse doesn't work.)

I can't explain how pissed off I was when Ratonhnhaké:ton storms out of the homestead because he knows his people are in danger and Achilles has the absolute AUDACITY to tell him that "his struggles are the colonists' struggle". No the fuck it isn't ? How is threat of genocide and loss of their homeland ANY comparable to the British raising taxes on the colonies ? The worst part is that this mentality isn't just shared by Achilles. Samuel Adams also tells Ratonhnhaké:ton a similar thing when he claims the colonists are "no freer than the slaves". Excuse me ?

I've seen people call Adams out for it but Achilles always gets away with it scot-free when he's the one pushing Ratonhnhaké:ton to work with slave owners like Washington when all they want is to expand westward, burning down Native settlements along the way, and then has the audacity to claim it's in Ratonhnhaké:ton and his people's best interests to do so.

I'd take any Haytham critic a lot more seriously if they were also willing to call Achilles out for his undeniably racist behavior towards Ratonhnhaké:ton, but they don't. Because Achilles is supposed to be 'the good guy'. (And I don't mean to assume, but I think this lack of accountability for Achilles comes from a fundamental misunderstanding / ignorance of (and unfortunately indifference to) Native American issues, which we absolutely need to talk about more.)

What we're not gonna talk about, though, is how Achilles also owns a giant homestead on indigenous land that he lets other colonists settle on. Because of course it doesn't count.

Anyway. Those were my two cents. Do with it what you will.

PS. I think the comparison that was made with Edward also being a colonizer is flawed. While it was very similar at the beginning, with him leaving Wales to work as a privateer for the British Navy, he did a complete 180 later on and set out to work with indigenous people and fight for their freedom too. His mansion was also stolen from a colonizer (as opposed to it being built by him) and when he left the Caribbean to go back home, he gave it back to indigenous people instead of selling it to the highest bidder.

[macsimagines]

Izana, Kisaki + Mikey finding their girlfriend sleeping in one of their shirts, like willingly? 🧡

TW: YANDERE BEHAVIOR, ABUSIVE BEHAVIOR, NEGLECT, MENTION OF KIDNAPPING

Yandere!Izana Kurokawa

It started off with him kind of... not letting you leave his place. You came over for a late night booty call, and instead of demanding you get out of his face he wouldn't let you go that night.

Come the next morning and you wake up before him and you decide to dip before he can wake up and tell you to fuck off. Izana has never been overtly affectionate with you and you don't want to push him too far afterall.

But then you get a call later that day and he sounds...off.

"Hello-," "Just where the fuck are you, Y/N?" "O-oh? I woke up and left?" You tell him and you're so caught off guard by the slight annoyance in his voice what could you have done wrong?

"Why?"

And that throws you completely off. "Wasn't I supposed to?"

He doesn't answer. Just hangs up and you're left wondering what the hell happened, but you just shrug it off as maybe him not liking that one of his possessions left without permission...

The next time you two hookup, its the same thing. He's not trying to let you leave, and so you sleep over naked and just plan on wearing the same clothes you came in tomorrow. Except...

"I want you here when I get back, Y/N." He tells you before he leaves the next morning. And for whatever reason that look in his eyes means not to test him so you just sit around and wait for him all day.

But your clothes are kind of uncomfortable and its getting so laaaate. Izana wouldn't mind you borrowing one of his shirts right?

He really doesn't come back until 1am, and he's very happy you listened like a good girl, and even happier to see you dressed in one of his shirts while you sleep.

Izana thinks that he probably won't have to get your clothes from your old place. You could just use his. Ya. That'll be fine. Its his gift to you, for finally moving in with him where you belong.

Yandere!Kisaki Tetta

You're a true fucking brat. No really, you've somehow become the single biggest pain in the ass he's ever had to deal with. You throw out everything he buys you, you scream and demand your freedom at every turn, you're constantly trying to escape him...

But he loves you, really and truly adores you, and you're not going anywhere now that he's got you locked in his penthouse. He won't make the same mistake, he's going to keep this one alive. You'll just have to learn to love him.

Oh but your latest tantrum has him rethinking it all. You set fire to the apartment, burning all the clothes he bought you in the bathtub and almost getting the cops called.

But he was smart, smoothed over the situation and had you sedated before you could throw an even bigger fit. Honestly, some small part of him doesn't think you're worth the trouble but he comes home the next day and those thoughts are all dashed.

You're laying in one of his silk shirts, bundled into the sheets so sweetly he thinks he can feel his heart actually ache at the sight of you.

You're so precious, and perfect to him. "That was expensive," he'll try to say dismissively, he doesn't want you to think he's forgiven you for your little fit just yet, "I burned all the other ugly stuff you got me. At least your clothes are comfortable." "..."

He won't say anything after that, but he does make a mental note that perhaps the Gucci and the Balenciaga are probably not to your tastes. He should just get you things in the same style as him. Couples matching outfits could be nice.

Yandere!Manjiro Sano

Douchebag does not let you wear clothes he does not approve of. You belong to him and every aspect of your life belongs to him too, even what you wear.

And sometimes it's fine. Sometimes he's not around and you don't have to wear the skimpy dresses and designer shoes that hurt, sometimes you get to be comfortable and just chill out in your pajamas.

But you got too comfortable. He'd been gone for weeks again, because Micky comes and goes as he pleases, so you thought your usual fits would be fine.

Then he returns and for some reason he's pissed. It could be because the cops are on his ass, something didn't go his way or maybe his underlings were pissing him off, but for whatever reason for his rage he's decided he's going to take it out on you.

"What, Y/N? All the money I spend on nice clothes not good enough? You don't like the pretty thing I buy you?" "M-Mikey please-," "Too fuckin' good for the shit I give you?"

You're stripped bare and naked. For days. If you won't wear what he so graciously and lovingly gives you then you don't get to wear anything. And you're just shivering cold for a week straight trying to curl in yourself for any kind of warmth and comfort.

But after seven days of this hell you can't take it anymore. He doesn't even let you have sheets or blankets in your room anymore how the hell are you supposed to survive.

Thankfully, you find one of his discarded sweaters near the bed you two share and through it on without a second thought. You're nauseated because it still smells like him, but you can't bring yourself to take it off and be cold again.

You just snuggle into the fabric and finally find enough warmth and comfort to sleep that night. When Mikey comes home and sees you he realizes he's no longer angry. In fact, he's more than pleased.

"You just wanted to wear my clothes this whole time? That's fine. We'll share a wardrobe."

[safarigirlsp]

Forbidden

Hogwarts Professor Jacques Le Gris x Reader

Word Count: 8.4k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Aggressive and Dominant Jacques. Chasing. Implied Age Gap. Student/Professor Dynamics. Professor/Professor Dynamics. Everyone is over 18, as All Readers Must Be.

AO3 Link

Author’s Note: Based on a special request for a sexy Christmas party with Professor Le Gris from my beautiful friend @kyloremus ! She does the absolute best edits around and keeps me absolutely rabid! Edits by her, of course!

More Hogwarts Professor Jacques fics for anyone hooked:

Where There’s Smoke, There’s Fire

Dashing Through The Snow

I Put A Spell On You

A Duel to Remember

Fog hung heavily in the winter air, snaking through the cobblestone streets and the serpentine twists of Diagon Alley. Fat snowflakes danced lazily down from swirling carbon clouds and the cobblestones were icy and slick beneath the fresh powder snow. Shop windows glowed with a kaleidoscope of lights and buttered rum and spiced wine could be scented on the frosted air. Christmas Eve was a glittering evening, the kind filled with beauty and wonder and promise. A gust of wind blew down the alley toward you, twirling a flurry of snow up from the ground. You pulled your coat tighter around your body and trotted toward your destination a few businesses ahead.

Ducking inside the welcoming doors of the Leaky Cauldron, you were instantly enveloped by warmth and the smell of drinks and fried food. The bar was more crowded than you had ever seen it, packed to standing room only with patrons out for Christmas Eve. Festive music, a mix of cherry and clubby, almost made you want to dance as you weaved your way through the crowd. The edges of the bar were obscured in that murky shadow that liked to linger on the sidelines, like wallflower shades watching from the wings. You could see figures of people sitting in the shadows, but couldn’t make out any discerning features. You could almost feel a pair of eyes on you, watching you from the shadows.

A wave from the crowded bar caught your eye. A group of four people pressed together at the bar, two couples, waiting for you. Your friends. It wasn’t uncommon for you to be the third wheel in your group, still single after your closest friends had paired up with men during their school years and shortly thereafter. Zelda was now married and Dina, more protective of her freedom, was with a man she had been dating for years. It was easy to see that the man who was supposed to meet you tonight was absent. You expected to hear whatever excuse he had for that from your friends. It was no bother, really. Blind dates were always something of a disaster.

Zelda waved at you more animatedly, fitting for your bubbly blonde friend. Beside her Dina, a stately brunette, must have told their men to clear some space for you because both men moved to the edge of the bar under the guise of having some conversation amongst themselves.

“I can’t believe Gaston stood you up!” Zelda huffed indignantly when you joined them, referring to your absentee blind date. “What an asshole! I wouldn’t have thought it of him.”

“It’s best for the assholes to weed themselves out early,” you said nonchalantly. It was hardly an upset. You were beginning a new job soon anyway, one that would have you sequestered away from the world for most of the year. Starting a relationship now was impractical.

“I agree,” Dina added. “At least you hadn’t invested any energy in him or wasted any time. Besides, now if we see him out and about, we have every reason to be as nasty as possible to him, which is always fun.”

“To hell with him,” you said and took the beer the bartender slid in front of you. The three of you raised your glasses and clinked them together to a round of, “Merry Christmas!”

“There’s more to celebrate on top of the holidays,” Dina said with a coy smile.

“Yes!” Zelda added excitedly. She clinked your glass again with too much vigor, spilling beer over both your hands. “Cheers to the newest professor at Hogwarts!”

Elation and slight embarrassment rushed through you at her toast. You were proud and excited, and still a bit in disbelief that you had secured such a coveted position. After all, it hadn’t been too long ago that you had graduated from Hogwarts yourself.

“To the new History of Magic Professor!” Dina added and took a drink. “Leave it to you to make that class interesting at last. I must admit I’m shocked the Headmaster liked your pitch.”

“Not nearly as shocked as I am.” A wide grin spread across your lips. “I figured that since I had no real chance of getting the job anyway, I might as well shoot my shot and lay all my aspirations out on the table. In my wildest dreams, I never suspected the Headmaster would actually want a course that teaches both the history of magic and the added practice of the arcane spells we lost to history.”

“Another toast! To no lost limbs or dismembered students in your first term!” Zelda teased.

“At least, to no one I like,” you laughed.

“Just think,” Dina mused with a rosy blush on her cheeks. “Now you’ll be on equal standing with our old professors.”

“Ooo, yes!” Zelda said conspiratorially. “Maybe it’s best you’re going into this job single.”

Nearly every teenage girl at Hogwarts had a crush on one professor or other. You and your friends were no exception. It didn’t help matters that several professors were men in their prime, in their thirties and forties, at the peak of their attractiveness. Zelda had charmed her journal to explode with pink hearts whenever she wrote a certain name in its pages. The hearts smelled like roses and would flutter around her like butterflies. Of course, the name belonged to their charms professor, a dashing man with chic mahogany hair, masculine chest hair that peeked through the buttons in his shirt, and eyes as richly green as the forest after a rain. Dina had been so enamored of their quidditch coach, a tall athlete with golden hair, sky blue eyes and a movie-star smile, that she engineered a few nasty falls from her broom just so he would rush to rescue her and carry her to the hospital wing in his burly arms.

It was undeniable that both professors were attractive, but your interest had never been piqued by nerds or jocks. Bad boys appealed to you, or rather, tall, dark and handsome men. Byronic men with a hint of darkness who would be right at home in a gothic Victorian novel. The sort of man who exuded danger and vigor, the kind who had a predatory presence and a devil-may-care glint in his eye. The kind of man who, when he looked at you, he looked ravenously, leaving you wondering if he was going to steal you away to a dark tower or ravage you against the wall at the ball where you could be discovered at any moment.

As schoolgirls, the three of you spent countless hours in the library and common room discussing your favorite literary men, debating which men were the best. Fortunately, there was never any competition between you for your favorites. Zelda could have gallant Mr. Darcy and Gatsby and Atticus Finch. Dina could claim lively Cpt. Wentworth and Beowulf and Jean Valjean. So long as they left roguish Mr. Rochester and Heathcliff and Edmund Dantes for you. The dark antiheroes and villains who you weren’t really supposed to love. The forbidden kind of man. Prince Charming was so boring compared to the Beast, and what prissy prince could eat you better than the Big Bad Wolf? Naturally, the literary epitome of this was Count Dracula, but until he crossed oceans of time to find you, you were left with a sadly more mortal selection of men.

And if there was ever a man who epitomized tall, dark, handsome, and Byronic, it was Jacques Le Gris. When he stalked down the halls, he looked as if he were roaming his family’s century’s old gothic mansion. When he strolled across the grounds in the evening, it was easy to picture him roaming a Scottish moor. Adding to this imagery was the fact that he often undid the top two buttons of his shirt when taking his evening stroll, revealing the thick cleft of his chest. You thought you were suffering a heart attack one morning when you saw him running shirtless near the lake through the mist before dawn.

In coffee and in men, your tastes ran dark, robust, and strong. It was the Head of Slytherin House and Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor who had captivated you from the moment you first saw him. The year he came to Hogwarts as the new defense against the dark arts professor was your last year in school, and despite the number of candles on your birthday cake, there was nothing childish about you at seventeen. The memory of that first day was still as vivid in your mind as the present moment you were living. Professor Le Gris all but storming down the hall in his long purposeful stride, unruly ebony hair dusting his impossibly broad shoulders, his cape swirling in his wake as though it were a living thing. Heat flooded you at the mere memory. Some girls had their sexual awakening in some bumbling experiment with a pimpled teenage boy under the quidditch stands. For you, it was imagining Professor Le Gris’s huge hands running over your body, gripping you so hard in his passion that the bruises he left lingered for days; his long hair falling around his face in sweaty tendrils as he looked down at you, caged beneath his enormous body, running your hands over his broad back and feeling his muscles flex with every thrust into you.

Memories of your darkest fantasies flooded your mind with an almost dizzying intensity. It was unsettling, you had never experienced such vivid, intrusive visions. The feeling of Professor Le Gris’s hands on your body felt as real as the wooden bar you leaned against. The sound of him growling your name in your ear rang deeper than the cheery music in the bar. The rich masculine scent of him overrode the smells around you, and the taste of beer on your tongue was overshadowed by the taste of his skin and arousal.

“Hello?” Zelda snapped her fingers in front of your nose playfully. “Were you listening at all? I asked if you still have a crush on our old defense against the dark arts professor?”

“Oh, Professor Le Gris?” you feigned ignorance, hoping your friends didn’t see the way your pupils had dilated at the thought of him. “I haven’t thought of him in years.”

“Perhaps you can seduce Professor Le Gris and put in a good word for me with Professor Wren and we can have an awkward double date together,” Zelda laughed. “Best we not tell my husband.”

You rolled your eyes and took a drink in an attempt to open your throat back up, since it had closed at the thought of him.

“You’re not a student anymore,” Dina said suggestively. “And rumor has it Professor Le Gris is newly single again after some tawdry fling with one of those jezebels teaching at Beauxbatons. You’re rather lucky, you know? I was devastated to hear that Coach Baldr had married.” She nodded toward her boyfriend at the end of the bar and snickered. “Poor Albert has no clue how precarious a position he has. I would leave him in a moment if that Norse god wanted to take me to Valhalla.”

“Speaking of rumors,” Zelda said, lowering her voice to the quiet tone they once used to gossip in the library. “I still wonder if Le Gris is a werewolf. He has the look, doesn’t he? Those amber eyes, all that bushy hair, and those teeth. The way he looks at you a little too intensely. Can’t you just picture him howling at the moon?”

“My money is still on him being an animagi,” Dina argued. “I agree that he would be a wolf though, like his patronus is. A big black wolf with yellow eyes.”

Unbidden, the image came to you of a big black wolf chasing after you as you ran through a misty forest. Your heart pounded in your ears, almost as loud as the wolf thundering behind you. You inhaled sharply as the wolf lunged at you, sinking his teeth into your neck, pleasurably painful. Your wide eyes shot up as if the bite was real. And met a pair of amber eyes across the room, watching you from a shadowy corner of the bar.

Shock froze you in place, made your muscles seize as though it was Medusa’s eyes you had looked into and been instantly turned to stone. It was lucky actually. Otherwise, you would surely have dropped your beer and made a much more outward spectacle. As it was, you managed to keep a modicum of decorum and show no obvious displays of surprise. Or arousal, even as old fantasies again played in your mind like a song on repeat. You met those eyes steadily, eyes you hadn’t seen in person since your last day as a student at Hogwarts.

Professor Jacques Le Gris watched you intently. The way a wolf watches a fox frolicking unaware. Even the way he leaned casually back in his chair, one long leg crossed over the other, was lupine. A predator at ease, waiting for the opportune moment to seize his prey. Though he reclined in his chair, he still dwarfed the small round table for two. He was dressed all in black, the way you had most often seen him. Only tonight, his jacket was off and his sleeves rolled up to expose muscular forearms. His cravat was undone, the tails hanging down on either side of his shirt, framing the vee of chest that was exposed by the top two open buttons. He looked every bit the swarthy rake, a bodice-ripping libertine straight out of a Victorian penny dreadful. A half-smoked cigar was pinched between his index and middle fingers, a tendril of smoke spiraling from its glowing end toward the ceiling as he casually circled the rim of his glass with his forefinger. His eyes had a fiery glint to match the cigar.

Instantly, you wondered how long he had been there. How long he had been watching you. If he had heard you. Judging by the level of his drink and the length of his cigar, he had been there some time before you arrived. His plush lips twitched in a lopsided smirk as he raised his glass to them, watching you over the rim as he took a drink. Another image intruded into your thoughts. Professor Le Gris striding down one of the many long, dark hallways of Hogwarts. He was behind you, stalking you. And of course he caught you. Grabbing your shoulder, he roughly turned you around and pushed you back against the nearest wall. He crowded against you, towered over you. His hips pinned you to the wall and his arms caged you in, his huge hands planted on either side of your head. He leaned in, his lips hot on your neck, his teeth grazing your skin. Every part of him was huge and hard; his thick chest under your hands, his iron fingers gripping you, his massive cock digging into you through his pants. The thought was too real, utterly taking command of your mind, and your body responded. A deep throb rocked through your core along with a melting heat, dripping through you slowly and deliberately like candle wax.

“I need some air,” you told your friends. They looked at you concerned, so you added convincingly. “It’s nothing. Really. It’s just stuffy in here with the Christmas party crowd. You know how I hate being packed in with the unwashed masses.”

You pushed through the crowded bar and all but bolted outside, hoping the cool winter air would have a chilling effect on your rampant imagination. Outside, you walked briskly, feeling the icy snowflakes land on your cheeks. And the way they steamed on your hotly flushed skin. Thankfully, there were few people outside on Christmas Eve. They were all either home with family or inside at a party like the Leaky Cauldron. Diagon Alley itself was nearly vacant, the shops darkened. Darker still and more vacant was Knockturn Alley. You were counting on it as you rounded the corner into the literal darker alley and trotted past a few darkened storefronts.

In the privacy of a shadowy doorway you leaned against the locked door and let out a heavy breath. You sounded lewd even to your own ears. The overhand of the doorway blocked the snow from falling on you and your skin felt instantly hot again. Another image flooded your mind, and you began to wonder if this was what madness felt like. This vision was different than any you had ever had before, but just as vivid. In your mind’s eye you saw Professor Le Gris standing shirtless in a gothic bedchamber with tall arched windows and a grand king bed, perhaps his chambers at Hogwarts or his home, wherever that was. In that omniscient way you know the thoughts of every character in dreams, you knew the thoughts that plagued him. How he had been consumed by the desire for a particular woman for years. A forbidden woman. Jacques would never seduce a student, fuck a student. No matter how beautiful and enticing, and blatantly responsible for his wolfish hunger you were. In nearly forty years, he had never been so captivated. So enchanted. So cursed.

Clear as a florid memory, you saw Jacques lean against the wall, pressing his head to the cool stone. Here, in private, he could imagine all the things he could never do in reality. Like fuck his favorite student. He knew how wrong it was even to think such disturbing things. The thought made him grin to himself, an indulgent, devilishly handsome grin. He pictured your luscious body. He wondered how sweet you smell. He imagined how delicious you taste. When he focused hard enough, he could feel the tight hot squeeze of you around his cock when he fucked his fist. Stroking his cock, he imagined thrusting into you, over and over and over, feeling you strain and flutter when he stretched you around him. The way he groaned was absolutely filthy when he came, imagining he was filling you until it was leaking out of you. He all but banged his forehead on the stone wall when he finally rested his head there, his hair falling around his face in a disheveled ebony curtain, his bare chest heaving and glistening with sweat.

There in the snowy alley, you watched it all happen in your mind’s eye as though it were your own memory. No, less like a memory and more like watching it happen through a window, like a voyeur. Your friend’s statement flashed in your mind. An exciting, enticing thought.

I am no longer a student.

As you felt a slick heat ruining your panties, you sobered for a moment. Just long enough for one lucid thought that was both thrilling and frightening. You remembered another rumor about Professor Le Gris. He was rumored to be a master of occlumency and legilimency. A legilimens could access another’s mind, see their thoughts and feel their feelings. No one could keep any secrets from a legilimens. Not only could a man with such a skill read your thoughts, he could influence them. He could plant any thought, any feeling, any image into your head as though it was your own. He could make you fantasize about him and remember your most forbidden desires. He could make you see what he felt for you, what he always had. He could make all those thoughts and feelings boil to the surface of your mind, make your desires simmer. He could even make you drip for him, almost on command.

“I’ve known your secrets for some time,” his voice sounded from the alley corner. Real this time, deep and hoarse with desire of his own. Jacques Le Gris leaned against the brick wall of the shop whose doorway you had hidden in. “The way you wanted me to corner you in the halls, pin you there against the wall where you couldn’t escape. Take whatever I want.” His pose was casual, his shoulder leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankle. But his eyes were the opposite, watching you with a burning intensity that all but crackled through the air. “Now, you know my secret, too.” His voice was a growl when he added, “I’ve always wanted you. To ruin you for any other man. To make you mine and keep you all to myself.” He pushed away from the wall and stalked toward you in that predatory way of his. “And now, there’s not a damn thing stopping me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you lied, a feeble attempt to cling to some dignity. A thought flitted through your mind – he was prostrating himself before you. In his own way, he was making himself just as exposed as you were. He was pursuing you, taking the greater risk.

“Don’t you, now?” he teased in a gravelly voice. “I’ll never believe you didn’t know how you tormented me. Seeing you in those little skirts, thinking about those fumble-fucking schoolboys laying their clumsy hands on you. Knowing how much more a man could give you. What I could give you.”

“And what exactly is it that you could give me?” You tilted your chin up defiantly to add, “Professor?”

“Knowledge.” He walked to you until he stood so close that you could feel the heat radiating off him, grinning wickedly at the way his proximity affected you. “Regardless of what else I may be, I’m a very good professor. There is a loophole in the Hogwarts Code of Conduct that you might find interesting. Relevant.” He placed his hand on the door next to your head and leaned in close, his body only inches from yours. “Would you like to learn it?”

“If it saves me the time reading through the Code myself,” you tried to sound nonchalant, certain you failed. In fact, you did need to read those exact Codes before assuming your role as a new professor, but you had until the start of term to do it.

“Still a procrastinator through and through,” Jacques tisked you and leaned closer, his entire forearm now resting on the door next to your head, his face very close to yours. “You should know that relations between fellow Hogwarts professors are forbidden. A fireable offense.” He dropped his head and brought his prominent nose near your neck, and you thought he was going to kiss you there. Instead, he inhaled deeply through his nose, savoring the scent of you like some exotic perfume he had long been denied. “But forbidden only when the relationship postdates the beginning of a professor’s tenure.”

His words seemed to echo in your thoughts, needing a moment to take root. Looking up, you met his eyes. Eyes that glimmered like gold in the snowy night. “Relationships that predate the beginning of a professor’s term are allowed?”

“Clever girl,” Jacques said, his lips still near your neck, his breath steaming hot on your skin. “You always were a quick study. The very best and brightest. Did you think I only wanted you for that luscious ass?”

You tried to detect a note of sarcasm, but found none. You took a steadying breath and put a tentative hand on his chest. It was hard as granite beneath your hand. Jacques placed his free hand over yours, trapping your hand over his heart. You fixed your eyes on his, watching for a flicker of doubt when you asked, “What is it you want with me, Professor? Exactly?”

“Everything,” he growled the single word. It was more than an affirmation. His eyes told you it was a promise.

“We shouldn’t waste a moment, then,” you told him confidently. Fortune favors the bold, as they say.

“You read my mind.” He smiled genuinely, one of the very few you had ever seen on his lips. His toothy smile could have looked gawky, but right now, he was the most handsome man you had ever seen. His chest rose and fell under your hand as he leaned in to kiss you. Before his lips consummated your first kiss, he whispered, “My name is Jacques, not ‘professor.’”

“I’ll save professor for when I want you to teach me something, then,” you made your voice as seductive as possible now that you had decided on your course of action. It was easy now that you were confident he felt the same, that he desired you as fiercely as you did him. You eased your hips toward him, arching your back away from the door. Your lips were already parted when they met his, eager to finally taste the man you had dreamed of for so long.

The taste of him when he kissed you, the feel of him when his powerful body pressed against you, the strength of his hands on you was so much better than anything your imagination had ever conjured. It must have been the same for Jacques because he groaned into your mouth, his free hand dropped to your waist and he pulled you against him almost brutally. You wanted to feel every inch of your body pressed to his. Lifting a leg, you hooked it over his hip and wrapped your arms around his neck, using your entire body to pull him closer. His hand caressed your thigh from your knee up to your ass then squeezed you there. It would be so easy for him to hoist you up off the ground, for you to wrap your legs around him, for him to fuck you right now against the lonely door in Knockturn Alley, while snowflakes gathered in your hair.

“I know what you want. I’ve seen your fantasies,” Jacques purred, pulling back from your lips just enough to speak. “I know them so well they might as well be my own. Tell me which is your favorite and it will no longer be just a fantasy. I’ll enact it for you right now, down to every last detail.”

“Isn’t that what we’re doing already?” you teased. You were on fire from his touch and you ached with desire. Thinking of him as you had been was its own kind of foreplay, and now it was torment to prolong it. He was hard and his cock rubbed against you through both your clothing, teasing you erotically in the perfect place. But then, he knew right where your perfect places were. And dear god, he was huge.

“This is too tame for your fantasies,” he laughed darkly. “Tell me your favorite. Although, I think I know it.” He kissed your neck, teasing your skin with his teeth and a light nip. “You want to run from me, pretend you have a chance of escaping. You want me to chase you down, catch you, rip your clothes off and fuck you like an animal. Or is that what the girls call being ravaged these days?” He pressed more weight against you, almost crushing you against the door, but the feel of his body and his weight was wonderful. “You’d pound your fists on my chest and tell me to stop, but you wouldn’t mean a word of it. You want me to take from you what has always been forbidden to give me.” Pulling back just enough to let you breathe, he brought his hand to your throat. His hand easily circled your neck, making you feel small and vulnerable, trapped in his grip. He squeezed. Gently, just enough for you to feel how easy it would be for him to truly take whatever he wanted. His voice sounded dangerous when he told you, “I can do that.”

“Yes,” you said at once without even taking a moment to think. This is what you had wanted for as long as you could remember wanting anything from a man. And Jacques Le Gris was offering to give it to. “I want our first night together to be like a fantasy. But I have a counteroffer.” He kissed you before you could make it, leaving you breathless when he pulled away. You took a breath and finished, “I say we play out my favorite fantasy first and your favorite second.” You cocked an eyebrow at him in a challenge. “If you’re game.”

“Darling, I was born game and I intend to go out that way.” When Jacques grinned at you now, sideways and wicked, the wolf practically jumped out of him. You knew he was telling the truth, that he shared your desires in full. That he wanted you just as desperately as you did him, and that he possibly had for just as long.

“Wait, I can’t just run off.” You stalled him with your hand on his chest. “What will my friends think?”

“What do you want them to think?” He slyly tapped a finger to his temple, his message clear.

“It’s enough for them to think I went home with a handsome man and not to worry about me,” you said coyly. “And it had better be true.”

“So long as you think me handsome, it’s true.” His grin widened and he pushed your arms back up around his neck. “Hold on tight.”

You knew what he was about to do before he did it and asked, “Where are you taking me?”

“The perfect place to give you what you want,” he laughed, a throaty rumbling laugh, and held you so tight you couldn’t have escaped his arms if you wanted.

Suddenly, the world blurred around you and spun as if you stood at the center of a cyclone. Your stomach swooped with the unnerving feeling of falling and a boom like thunder rang in your ears. When the world stopped spinning, your head took another moment to catch up. You swayed against Jacques in what could rightly be described as a swoon. For a few seconds, his hard body against you felt like the only solid thing in the world. He held you as you regained your balance and composure, his arms comforting and secure.

You were no longer in Knockturn Alley, or the city at all. You were surrounded by thick pine trees with snow drifting lazily down around you and leaving a light blanket on the ground. The light was diffused softly from the light of the bright full moon filtered through a thin layer of cloud. It looked like a dream and you wondered if Jacques could possibly be such a powerful legilimens that he could be crafting this world all inside your head. But you knew this was real, and you knew precisely where he had apparated with you. Although it had been years, you had been here many times before.

You shook your head at him fondly, appreciating his humor in the moment. He had taken you to the Forbidden Forest.

Jacques was game indeed. He fully intended to give you exactly what you had always wanted– a man of action instead of those of lesser fortitude who hid behind pretty words. Now that the onus was on you to accept his offer, you found it difficult to keep from trembling with nerves. He was so big, so powerful, so predatory. It was more than a little intimidating to think of him chasing you, catching you, manhandling you. It was almost frightening. But then, that was the point, wasn’t it? It was always a fine line between fear and excitement, between a fright and a thrill.

“What shall it be, beautiful?” Jacques asked. The devious bastard had probably read your mind again. Or your trepidation was that plainly written on your face. “Do you want me to play naughty or nice with you?”

“You brought me here,” you said with as much conviction as you could, making up your mind. “Carpe nocturne.”

“I’ll seize something alright.” Jacques sucked his teeth and bared his canines in a wolfish grin. Moonlight glinted off his teeth and glazed his black hair with silver, giving him a wild look. A beast, at home in these woods. He lowered his chin and fixed his lupine eyes on you, looking ravenous and dangerous. His voice rumbled through you when you told you, “I’ll give you ten seconds to run before I hunt you down and sink my teeth into that delicious ass of yours.”

“Ten seconds, huh?” you teased as you took a few tentative steps away from him deeper into the woods, exaggerating the sway of your hips seductively.

“One.” He cut off your flouncing, deadly serious, and took an ominous step toward you. He rolled one sleeve back up to his elbow where it had slipped down, somehow making that gesture look aggressive.

Smiling, you began lightly trotting through the dense trees. The forest glittered all around you in white snow, silver moonlight, and deep pine trees. The air was crisply-scented and cool, but your skin was so flushed the chill was welcome.

“Two,” he huffed behind you. “Better run a lot faster than that.”

Deciding on a path through the trees, you quickly picked up speed as adrenaline flooded your bloodstream. The idea of the chase, of running from a looming hunter, was exhilarating. You found a small game trail snaking through the forest, a pristine white laceration between the snowy trees, narrower than a footpath. The trees themselves reached their twisted branches out to you, as if to offer their help to hide you from the beast at your heels. A light mist lingered in the forest, dancing around your knees and swirling in your wake as you ran ahead.

You felt it when Jacques gave chase. You couldn’t see him now through the trees and brush that separated you, you certainly couldn’t hear him, but you felt him somehow like an electric shudder through your body, raising the hairs on the back of your neck. It was as if the forest itself felt him too, the atmosphere changing around you now that you were actively being hunted. 

A thick pine tree was close ahead of you, its lush low-hanging branches inviting you near, offering you a place to hide from your pursuer. Ducking under its branches, you pressed your back to the trunk on the opposite side of the trail. Snow dusted down on you from the branches you rustled, pleasantly cool on your skin. The fragrant smell of pine and sap surrounded you as you breathed heavily through your nose, trying to slow the hammering in your chest.

Snap.

The sound of a breaking branch reverberated through the trees, making your entire body jolt. You strained your ears to divulge more sounds, but there were none to be heard. The silence around you was so complete it was oppressive after the sounds of your running. It seemed as though the forest itself had gone quiet, and the snow offered more insulation on top of it. The trees surrounding you had become an audience waiting with bated breath to see if you would make your escape. Or if you would fall victim to the hunter at your heels. 

Surely, Jacques could have caught up to you by now. You expected him to charge past your hiding spot behind the pine tree only seconds after you and run ahead down the game trail. 

Slowly and as quietly as you could, you turned to look around the trunk of the tree that shielded you, daring to breach the side of the tree with only one eye as you checked your backtrail. Nothing. No big bad man in sight. Even the fog had settled again.

You returned your back to the tree and rested your head back against it, still scanning the trail. As you returned to face front, you caught movement from the corner of your eye. You snapped your head around to meet Jacques’s unnerving eyes and hulking body looming right at your shoulder. You almost jumped out of your skin as a pathetic yelp left your throat. Jacques growled as his arm shot around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. He wasted no time in sinking his teeth into your neck in a biting kiss, ensuring he left a bruise to mark the presence of his lips. 

“Jacques!” You jumped away from him, fueled by reflexes alone. Jacques let you. You took a moment to steady yourself, filling your lungs with air too slowly for your spinning head and rubbing the fresh mark on your neck. It stung, but sensually so.

“I’ll only count to five this time.” Jacques told you as he stepped toward you with a hint of menace and a devilish grin curling his lips.

Hungry lust radiated off Jacques in waves, so thick you could feel it on the air like a spectral presence. And it was all for you. He indeed thrilled you and also frightened you just a little, just enough for that rush of adrenaline to make you giddy. He certainly knew what he was doing, playing this little game of yours, or he had read your desires as clearly as a script and played his role to perfection. Sweat shone on his chest through the open vee in his shirt, a blush tinting his chest and neck. He looked voracious, driven mad by his desire. Jacques awakened the animal part of your brain that civilized society had tried for millennia to tame away, the part of you that wanted to be captured, taken, and utterly ravaged. Jacques was enjoying this even more, his huge chest heaving from the thrill of the hunt. You could see how it sparked a primal urge deep inside of him, probably even more poignant that it did in you. You could also see the evidence of his aching arousal tenting his pants. You were no better off. You had been melting inside all night, it seemed.

Backing away from him, you took a few deep breaths as you prepared to run again, unable to rein your pulse back down from a gallop. He registered your excitement and winked at you, enjoying your game. Laughing, you bounded away then skipped into a run that carried you further along the trail and deeper into the welcoming mystery of the woods.

The trail narrowed and became overgrown as the forest closed in around you. Deeper inside the forest, the woods grew wilder, much as the man chasing you was growing wilder with every pursuing step. You knew he was closing in on you swiftly. You slowed enough to look behind you. You were just in time to see Jacques lowering his massive body as he lunged at you with a growl. His shoulder connected with your waist as his strong arms gripped you, tackling you to the ground beneath him. He was careful with you. He’d never actually tackle you with his full force or risk hurting you. His arm hit the ground hard beneath you, cushioning your body when you met the cold wet snow. His heavy body covered you with enough weight to pin you but not quite enough to crush you. 

Laying on your back beneath his sweaty body, your arms flew around him. One hand fisted harshly into his damp hair and one hand dug sharp nails into his muscular shoulder, earning a groan in response. Jacques crashed his lips down against yours in a hard, desperate kiss, his hot tongue twining with yours, stealing the breath from your lungs. He kissed you hungrily, licking into your mouth and catching your lips between his teeth. He brought an enormous hand to your neck, again wrapping around your throat easily, squeezing just enough to make your pulse quicken and pound against his palm, adding to the effect of being captured.

“Do you like making me chase after you?” he asked into your mouth. “You must, since you’ve teased me for years. The torment was almost more than I could stand. Do you know how hard it was for me to resist taking what I know you wanted to give me?”

“I like being chased,” you whispered back. Feeling his weight press down upon you as you kissed, your legs fell open to invite him to settle between them. “But I like being caught by you even more.”

A low moan rumbled in his chest and he grinned against your mouth. The hand at your neck smoothed down to your breast, kneading you and making you gasp. 

Moving his hand lower, Jacques’s fingers dipped inside your pants, inside your panties, discovering how hot and wet you were already. You were powerless to resist succumbing to him, your body not allowing you to maintain any coy pretenses. Jacques’s mouth moved down to your neck as he plunged two thick fingers into you, curling them firmly against that spot he knew could make you scream. His fingers worked you into a frenzy as his teeth and lips attended to your neck and throat. He began rutting against you, his cock digging into the back of his own hand, which was still making you writhe on his fingers. Even that light movement caused your body to shift on the ground. The snow beneath you had melted, the ground now soupy under your back.

“This is about to get messy if you want me to take you here, fuck you on the ground like an animal,” he said huskily, pulling back from your lips. “Do you want that? The beast from your fantasy? Or I can show you what I’ve always fantasized about doing to you instead. It’s much simpler, I’m afraid.” He kissed you again. “But you’ll like it.”

“You’ve already proven better than my fantasies,” you said, running your hands over the breadth of his back. “I trust your judgment.”

“Hold on,” he told you as he pulled his fingers from you. He collapsed on you and gripped you in a strong bear hug, but you barely had time to feel the heavy weight of him.

The ground fell away beneath you and you squeezed your eyes shut as your stomach swooped in that familiar way. Thunder boomed around you and the whole world seemed to shake from it. The cool air whisked away from you, replaced by a welcoming warmth. The snow and ice of the forest was replaced by the golden glow of a fire dancing inside a marble fireplace. The sky above you was replaced by an arched cathedral ceiling, and the ground beneath you exchanged for crisp sheets on a king bed. The only things that remained from the forest were the silver moonlight peeking in through the tall, arched windows, and Jacques above you, grinning down at you, the feeling of his powerful body covering you. He traced hot kisses down your throat and chest as he rose back off the bed to roughly shrug off his shirt and work his belt free.

The sight of him shirtless was breathtaking, you felt yourself growing wetter just from that sight alone. His chest was glorious. You had never seen a chest so thick and expansive. His shoulders were absurdly broad and made even more impressive by his fit abdomen. The taper of his waist, the lines of muscle along his hips, even the trail of hair descending from his navel, all worked in conjunction to practically drag your eyes down toward his cock. After pulling your shirt off, you centered yourself on the bed and arched your back seductively. Jacques reached for your pants and yanked them the rest of the way off, tossing them aside as he stood over you at the side of the bed. His eyes glistened like whiskey on ice as his gaze caressed your body.

“As many times as I’ve imagined you like this, you’re better,” he said reverently in a voice that was all smoke and gravel.

You watched the muscles in his arms flex as he undid his belt and pants. Without taking his eyes from you, he unceremoniously shoved his pants down, stepping out of them quickly. Towering above you, standing totally naked, he palmed his enormous erection and let you admire the sight of him, the cocky bastard, watching you with his molten gaze. You expected Jacques to have a nice cock, as big as he was everywhere else. You had imagined it embarrassingly often, but the sight of him still made your breath hitch. It was practically monstrous, and deliciously thick. He would have injured you as a schoolgirl, and you couldn’t be entirely certain he wouldn’t now. Another bit of danger he offered. There would be a limit to how rough he could be with you, and you were thankful that he was seasoned enough to know it.

“If you can’t handle me, tell me now.” Of course, he couldn’t resist teasing you.

In response, you held his eyes firmly as you reached to undo your bra, slinging it across the room to be lost with your other discarded clothing. You raised one eyebrow at him, meeting his challenge. Jacques walked to the edge of the bed, pausing briefly to absorb the sight of you as you lay spread before him, the best Christmas gift he had ever received, before he lowered himself to the mattress and crawled over your body.

Eagerly, your legs spread for him again and he settled between them. Jacques caged you in with his impressive arms on either side of your body as he bent over you, a predator over his prey, and kissed at your navel. His kisses were open mouthed and he lavished you with his tongue. He trailed his mouth down until he placed a wet kiss at the top of your pussy, still covered by the lace of your thong. Bringing a hand down to the thin line of fabric at your hip, he yanked it roughly, ripping your thong away from you and tearing it apart with one motion. His aggressive lust had you aching with the need to be filled. Jacques paused and just admired you, the way you glistened with desire. He lowered himself, wanting to kiss you there, taste you, make you cum on his tongue. But you stopped him.

“The first time you make me cum, I want it to be with your cock,” you told him huskily. “I want to feel you inside of me when I cum.”

Jacques grinned up at you before trailing his nose and lips slowly back up the center of your body as he crawled up into position above you. He paused to inhale deeply at your throat, taking in the scent of you and exhaling in a low heady groan. He kissed you passionately and deep. His taste was smokey and lush, making you shiver. His weight was resting on you now, pushing you down into the mattress. You could feel the muscles in his back and shoulders tense and flex under your hands as he moved, and his heavy chest pressed against yours, a sharp contrast to his soft lips. The unduly thick head of his cock nudged into you, teasing at your entrance. When you bucked your hips against him, he plunged into you in one fluid stroke. He rolled his hips against you gently, giving you time to adjust to his size. Your nails raked his back as a pornographic moan escaped your lips at the pleasure of being so completely full of him. Jacques’s mouth returned to diligently kiss you as the rolling of his hips became shallow thrusts. When your hips started moving to meet his own in time with his thrusts, he began thrusting into you more passionately.

Jacques propped himself up with his hands on either side of your head. Groaning again at an unabashed volume, he pulled back and slammed his entire length into you. It skirted the line of painful pleasure, but he felt so good. He saw your features rendered beautifully distraught by pleasure and kept that angle and rhythm that he knew was driving you in exactly the direction you wanted. You fluttered and tightened around him, your orgasm imminent. Jacques could feel it. Losing control himself, he fucked you harder, pistoning into you roughly. His whole body tensed when he felt the pulsing orgasm surge through you, shooting through him like a current of pleasure connected the two of you. Jacques’s thrusts grew erratic, his shoulders and arms quivered, and he came moments after you on a deep thrust. You reached to his thick, damp hair, tangling your fingers in it and pulling him down to settle over you. He looked down at you adoringly then kissed you lovingly. Though it was unspoken, the emotion was unmistakable.

After lavishing you slowly and indulgently, he rolled onto his back and pulled you down against his enormous chest. Wrapping the arm beneath you around your waist tightly, he held you in something between a cuddle and a bear hug and caressed you with his free hand. His huge body was hot beneath you, his arms radiating warmth around you, and his lips searing as they gently kissed along your hairline. The man was an absolute fever dream. He could keep you in an erotic stupor for hours if he wanted.

“Where are we?” you asked lazily, drunk on the rush he had given you.

“Normandy,” he purred, his hands gentle and warm on your skin. “My home, precisely speaking.”

“This looks like the inside of a castle,” you said of the bedroom with its stone walls and arched windows.

“You could call it that.” He smirked. “Regardless of the descriptor, it will accommodate us well until the start of term.” He brought his fingers under your chin, tipping your face up to look at him. “Provided you’ll accept my invitation to stay with me until then.”

“I’ll need a change of clothes,” you laughed.

“Not for what I have planned,” he laughed too, and rolled back over you again.

Briefly you wondered at the stir you would cause when the pair of you returned to Hogwarts in January. Together. Gossip spread through those enchanted halls like wildfire and you knew a professorial couple would be a source of it for a long time to come. You had no time to dwell on the thought now. Jacques demanded all of your attention elsewhere.

************************************************************************

© safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some bewitching beauties 🖤

@babbushka @mrs-gucci @mrs-zimmerman @gabesprincess @maybe-your-left @rynwritesstuff @candycanes19 @caillea @cas-backwards-tie @queeniebee @mythrielofsolitude @ghoulian13 @icarusinthesea @reyloaddict55 @heartlight-starlight @clydesfavoritegirl @celiholland @reveluving @reylokisses @queen-of-elves @kyloremus @looking4mymagicshop @lumberjack00fantasies

[ghostinyrmachine]

what fresh hells

first chapter of my first fic. pls enjoy!

AO3

________

Raphael x F!Tav

word count: 908(ish)

sfw (for now👀)

Narrowly surviving the final showdown at the House of Hope, Tav finds herself on the wrong side of the portal back to Baldur's Gate. While her companions escaped with the Orphic Hammer, Tav is left behind in Avernus with the devil she knows all too well.

________

His clawed hand closing around your wrist was the last thing you’d felt before the portal closed, the only way out of Avernus now severed, completely and resolutely. It had taken all your companions’ might to escape the House of Hope in one piece. Hope herself, though, hadn’t been so lucky. And now, it seemed, neither were you. Just as the view of your friends, safe on the other side of the veil, flickered out of existence, the cambion had pulled you away. Inches from freedom, close enough to feel the portal’s rippling surface vanish from your fingertips, you were caught.

The cavernous entryway, once clamoring with swords and lightning, suddenly fell silent. Raphael’s voice no longer echoed off the walls, booming in your ears as you and your party scraped and clawed their way back to the diabolist’s office. Now, just the pounding of your heart in your ears, the adrenaline still awash over you as you stared at the spot that was supposed to be the last step towards defeating the Absolute. The charred corpses of Yurgir and the lesser cambions strewn across the marble floor. Even Hope, looking up at you with eyes glazed in death, had no words left for you.

It had felt like time slowed the moment you saw Raphael waiting for you in the foyer, but this, this stillness was different. There was nothing magical or fabricated about it. The resoluteness of the moment was overwhelming, the failure undeniable. Your little adventure had finally come to an end. Snared in the devil’s trap that had been laid for you who knows how long ago.

You hadn’t wanted to steal the hammer, not necessarily. You hadn’t meant to anger the devil whose deals you’d managed to circumvent thus far. You were so near to defeating the Elder Brain, the Netherstones all within your possession and the last of your party’s business in Baldur’s Gate almost complete.

But after rescuing Lae’zel from Orin, you felt you owed it to her to free Orpheus. Maybe afford her the same freedom each of you had sought throughout your shared journey. It was the last step, a simple task. Infiltrating the Nine Hells had been much easier than you’d thought. From there, it had all seemed so straightforward. “Find the key. Take the hammer. Smash my chains.”

And yet, here you stood. Beaten and bloodied, further away from salvation than you’d ever been. Lae’zel and the party had escaped with the hammer, sure, but you had been left behind.

“Little mouse…”

The sudden rumble of Raphael’s voice a thunderclap, awakening you from the frozen state of shock you’d fell into for those milliseconds that lasted eons.

“It seems the claw has finally come down.”

Snapped back into reality, you struggled against his grip, eyes locked on Hope’s demented expression as you collected enough of your mind to plot an escape. You could get out of this. Somehow, some way, you could still make a run for it. Maybe back to the room of mirrors that you’d passed as you dashed down the hallway. Or Korilla, where had Korilla gone? She must have followed your companions through the portal or cast some teleportation spell like she and her master had done so many times before. Straining against the white-hot talons encircling your wrist, you wracked your brain for anything that might deliver you back in Baldur’s Gate.

Raphael tutted, “Ah, ah, ah, Tav, it is well and truly over.” Overpowering you easily, he swung your body towards him, clutching your other wrist just as strongly as the first. Holding your helpless hands against his chest, he glared down at you as you yanked against his ever-tightening grip.

The fire in his eyes burning hotter than you’d ever seen, even when Hope sacrificed herself to reopen the portal, and he beamed at you with the fury and desperation of a man who had had very nearly perished. The lacerations and burns covering his body proved you and your friends had put up a hell of a fight, perhaps bringing him closer to death than he’d ever been. Every resource at his disposal still wasn’t enough to kill your band of heroes; the only thing he had to show for himself was the thrashing body of a mortal, only defeated by a last-minute, desperate swipe of frustration.

In fact, even as you struggled against him, you detected a hint of shock under his wrath. It appeared he was almost as surprised as you that you hadn’t crossed the portal’s threshold. His taunting, so second-nature to him, barely concealed the awe he felt at having secured this small triumph. The features of his infernal face betrayed him, his grimace replacing what should have been the knowing smirk of someone always three steps ahead.

You paused, fully absorbed in the flurry of emotion he was experiencing, taken aback that he was somehow just as confused as you were.

“Well, you have made quite the mess of things, haven’t you?”

His expression shifted too quickly for you to delve any further into his mind; the plastered, devilish smile you’d come to loathe reappearing instantaneously.

Before you could open your mouth to protest, he released his grip on you, just long enough to snap.

Suddenly, you found yourself back in the boudoir you’d ransacked just hours ago. Your wrists raised in front of you, you stood motionless, alone yet alive somewhere in Avernus.

[diana-bluewolf]

It’s the fanfic I wrote about in the previous post

—------------------------------

Word count: ~4500

Warnings: passive suicidal ideation (don’t ask me how I ended up here with a funny comic as a base); m/m; not proofread.

English is not my first language - sorry for the mistakes!  

Additional tags: Ominis/M!MC, hurt-comfort, demisexual MC, SFW

Summary: Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

—------------------------------

When I feel so alone out here And freedom means I am lost When every day seems a slow-motion suicide You reignite my lust for life Lust for Life Song by Poets of the Fall

"Guess who's back!" 

Sebastian raised his head from the book he was reading on his bed to find Chris at the doorway to their dorm. 

"Oh, you were away?" teased Sebastian, grinning and arching his eyebrow. Ominis, who was resting on a small couch next to the fireplace, rolled his eyes and tilted his head towards Chris, smiling.

It was Friday evening. The lessons had recently ended, and the only thing keeping the students indoors was the spring rain outside. Besides, the N.E.W.T.s were approaching, so there was no time to relax.

“Aww, it’s so nice to be missed,” said Chris theatrically as he threw his shabby case on the floor next to his bed and shot Sebastian a smirk. The green-eyed boy was soaking wet after walking in the rain and took out his wand to dry himself, but instead came over to Sebastian and shook his head like a dog, spraying his friend with water.

Sebastian laughed and tried to kick Chris away, but he dodged, smirking.

“Well, I have to admit,” Sebastian said, watching Chris casting the drying spell on himself, ”it was a bit problematic to maintain the same level of chaos in the castle for the last two weeks. But I did my be –”

“Two weeks and four days,” objected Ominis hastily.  

Chris blinked in surprise and then beamed at the blond, who now was pursing his lips as if he said something wrong. Apart from that, Ominis looked just as collected and neat as usual, but something was off. Apparently, Chris got lost in his thoughts while watching Ominis because he didn't hear Sebastian asking him a question.

"Sorry, what did you say?" Chris returned to reality, realising that Sebastian was staring at him with a strange expression.

Sebastian suddenly clicked his tongue and exclaimed, "Blimey, look at the time! I've got to dash." He shut his book and jumped off the bed, heading towards the door.

"Wha – Why?" Chris furrowed, puzzled by his friend's sudden haste. 

"No time to explain – an urgent matter!" exclaimed Sebastian. As he ran past Chris, he tripped over and crashed into the other boy, shoving him towards the couch where Ominis was sitting. "My bad, guys! See you later!" And with that, he disappeared in the doorway.

Chris lost balance and landed atop shocked Ominis. He only managed to fling out his hand and prop it against the wall behind the couch to prevent himself from smashing into the blind boy at full speed. 

Ominis twitched and breathed out madly, “What the hell are you –“ trying to feel the intruder with his hands to understand what had happened. 

“It’s my knee,” commented Chris quietly when Ominis’s hand grasped the mentioned part of his body. 

“Sorry, I have no idea what gave Sebastian the impression I needed some flying practice,” uttered Chris. He attempted to stand up but froze halfway, looking at Ominis under him, their faces barely an inch apart.

Ominis, who could feel Chris’s breath on his lips, forced himself to speak through clenched teeth, "Oh, I will organise some flying practice for him later."

From the Astronomy tower.

An urgent matter. Of course, Sebastian did it on purpose. He was the only one who knew. 

_________

It had happened the night before.

A thud had pulled Sebastian out of his dream, and he had found Ominis on the floor on all fours, tangled in his blanket and groping around with trembling hands for his wand.

“Hey,” Sebastian kneeled beside his best friend, “I’m here, buddy. What has happened?” He found Ominis’s wand on the floor and pressed it into the blind boy’s palm. “Looking for this?” 

Ominis grasped the wand and sat on the floor, leaning heavily on his bed. 

“What has happened?” repeated the question Sebastian. “Was it a nightmare?”

Ominis, throwing his head backwards, only nodded slightly, his lips pursed.

“I thought they were gone,” said Sebastian, sitting on the floor next to Omins and realising it had been a long time since something like this had happened. 

“I thought so, too,” Ominis finally uttered, “but…it’s just…I guess it’s a…”

Sebastian waited for his usually composed and eloquent friend to find the right words in the silence of their dorm. 

“Him,” Ominis finally managed to say as if his throat was squeezed. 

_________

If someone at the start of his fifth year had told Ominis how much his opinion about Chris Mongrel would change, he would have offered them to visit St Mungo, just in case, to check their mental state. The new student had been just a class clown with a finger in every pie, not to mention that he had seemed to keep pulling Sebastian into dangerous activities.  

The Neophyte. It was what Ominis used to call that new show-off because the Heir of Slytherin was irritated by the new boy’s real name, pronounced by Sebatian too often. The new fifth year was manipulative, could lie with the most sincere expression and was the last person Ominis could think good of.

Nevertheless, of all people, it was Chris who eventually turned into the only source of warmth that could at least slightly dispel the cold of Dark Magic that Ominis found himself surrounded by - the cold of Sebastian’s despair. It was Chris who made great efforts to save Ominis’s friendship with Sebastian despite all the pressure he had on his shoulders due to the goblin rebellion. It was Chris who was there for him when Ominis needed it most, and if not for him, Ominis probably would have done another thing he would regret forever - turning Sebastian in. 

But then…Then Professor Fig died.

Chris became withdrawn and indifferent to anything around him, barely communicating with anyone. Even when he did, he was rude and obnoxious. By the start of their sixth year, Chris pushed away everyone. They didn’t talk for months. The only thing he paid attention to was lessons and schoolwork. Chris became an even more brilliant student than before. The teachers loved him. The students kept away. 

Some tried to bully him, but it looked like Chris just waited for this. His revenge was cruel enough to get him expelled. But the Hero of Hogwarts could make an innocent face when needed, and since he was the teachers’ favourite, he got away with everything.

Meanwhile, Ominis struggled with nightmares more than usual after the events of the fifth year. The scream of the muggle that he tortures with Crucio… this time followed by Avada Kedavra spell cast by him. Anne cries after burying Solomon, but this time, she blames Ominis for helping Sebastian find the relic. Sebastian killed his uncle, but this time, Ominis meets his best friend in Azkaban after turning him in. Chris disappears from the hospital wing in the turmoil after the fight for Hogwarts, but this time is found dead later. 

Ominis often couldn't fall asleep, and since being trapped with his thoughts in the night silence of their dorm was unbearable, he came to the common room after lights out. Chris seemed to deal with the same, so they often encountered each other there.  

The brunet usually would leave to sneak out of the castle without saying a word. As Ominis found out later, at best, Chris would sleep, curling up beside his "little" pet, Misha the Wolf, in the Forbidden Forest, because it was giving him the illusion of not being alone. At worst, he would indulge in that habit. The one that made Ominis feel cold inside. The habit of chasing for the opportunity to die. 

No, Chris didn't actually try to kill himself on purpose. But he never endeavoured to keep his life safe either. The boy simply didn't care. Whenever there was an opportunity to risk his life – Merlin knew how Chris managed to find them, whether it be killing a poorly trained troll or wandering into a cave full of Acromantulas just to find a thing of sentimental value for one of the nearby villagers – he would go for it eagerly. 

It lasted until the middle of their sixth year, when one night, Ominis found Chris bleeding in the Undercroft. The brunet didn’t want to go to the hospital; he had no Wiggenweld potions left and was generally too weak to care for himself. Ominis knew some basic healing spells – he had to learn them because of his idiot of a friend (for both of them, actually). 

Ominic treated the other boy’s wounds, clenching his teeth in silence. When he finished and was about to leave without saying a word, he heard that indifferent voice with a hint of mockery. The first words Chris had told him in the last half year.

"Thank you, Dr Gaunt. I'm looking forward to the next appointment."

Here, the author doubts whether it would be offensive to present Ominis’s answer as it was to the noble ears of the reader. So here is the censored version:

"Your life belongs to you, and I can't make you treat your belongings as I want, so I just ask you – No, I beg you – Keep. It. Safe. You lost someone you hold dear. I understand that. But you know what? You are not the only one here who came through this. And now you're endangering the life of another person I care about - and you don't even give me a chance to help him! You did so much to save my friendship with Sebastian. Why don't you even try to save ours?!" 

As mentioned above, it didn't sound like that exactly. It was pronounced in a mad voice and with a couple or two eloquent curses that were odd to hear from Ominis. Chris also didn't yet know that it was possible to beg someone for something by grabbing that someone by the collar and slamming them into a wall. 

Ominis had no idea how or why, but it seemed to have an effect. The next night, when they came across in the common room, Chris suddenly said “Hi” before leaving. Despite them being alone, Ominis wasn’t even sure it was addressed to him. The other night, they exchanged a couple of awkward words. The next night, they had a little meaningless conversation about a book Ominis was reading to distract himself. The night after, Chris suddenly offered to read aloud to Ominis. 

The next time, Chris suddenly stopped reading and put away the book to apologise for being a jerk all that time. That brought a string of heated discussions when slipping to blaming or resentment alternated with climbing the steep mountain of understanding each other.

Not every night was smooth. Too much had happened. Too much they both closed their hearts. But none of them stopped coming to the common room after lights out. 

Eventually, they rebuilt the wall they set up between each other into a cosy little house, in which both of them felt comfortable and knew where to put their shoes so that they wouldn't irritate the other one or which plaid to choose to cover the housemate when he was cold. It was the house they didn't want to leave, the house they could call home. In fact, it was the only place both of them could call home.

Chris became softer with others, too, and even though he still remained true to himself with most of them, being detached and manipulative, there was another side of him that only Ominis knew. The Chris, who was selfless, caring and reliable. Some might say he was too caring, as annoyingly overprotective as one can be. 

But for Ominis, it was an oasis he could immerse himself in and dissolve his unsettling thoughts. Floating in the void of his blindness and being raised in a family where the threat could come from any direction, Ominis perceived the world as precarious, to say the least. The price for this was his nightmares. 

Ominis used to hate nights, but now he couldn’t wait for when he and Chris would meet alone, following their unspoken tradition. He loved their conversations or just the silence they shared when they were too tired to talk, and he especially found pleasure in hearing the other’s voice, which was reading to him, quite deep and low for the owner’s age – the voice that soothed Ominis and filled him with warmth, the voice that made him feel safe.

First, Ominis began to fall asleep easier. Then, his nightmares started to fade until they dissolved almost completely. And then, in their seventh year, he found himself having new dreams. These were… good. Too good, but also causing concerns – dreams that were inappropriate towards a friend. 

Ominis wasn’t ashamed of them and cherished this new feeling that had bloomed in the soil, soaked with guilt, grief and fear. However, the boy was not going to reveal his secret and risk what he obtained, especially since Chris had never shown interest in a romantic relationship with anyone. 

Little did Ominis know how Chris’s absence would impact him. The longer the other was away, the more often Ominis woke up terrified because the old nightmares were returning. Last night seemed to be the last straw, so when Sebastian asked him what was happening to him, Ominis couldn’t stand it anymore. He needed to get all the emotions boiling in him off his chest. All the time, he wanted to tell Chris the truth, but was afraid. The way he missed the voice he loved so badly. 

He had told Sebastian the truth. 

He had fallen in love with their friend. 

The friend whose presence had made his nightmares disappear.   

_________

Ominis had made Sebastian swear he wouldn't tell Chris anything. But Sebastian wouldn't be Sebastian if he hadn't found a loophole in his promise. Why would he wait for his friends to take the first step towards each other if he could just throw one into another? It was a much more efficient way to shorten distances than steps, wasn't it?

If Ominis' thoughts weren't occupied by his current predicament and the panic growing in him because of Chris's proximity, he would be mad at Sebastian. Or should he thank him? How else could Ominis get a chance to become closer to the one who, although attentive in general, was absolutely oblivious when it came to romantic feelings? And thinking about it – really, how? Like this, by accident? That wasn't right.  

But Chris was so close. His warmth. His weight, pressing Ominis into the couch. His smell – the mixture of ink, pine and …was it Wiggenweld potion? 

Just like before. 

Did Chris need it again recently? Ominis hoped it had stayed in the past. 

Perhaps this concerning thought was the only thing keeping him from pulling Chris closer and reducing the little distance between them to nothing. In fact, Ominis knew that he had to push Chris away but hoped that Chris would be the one to get off the couch (and, well, him) first. For some reason, the brunet didn't hurry to do it.

Meanwhile, Chris used the opportunity to look at Ominis closer. The blond's face was crimson now, but it wasn't that that bothered Chris – just a normal human reaction to a violation of personal space. Chris had difficulties understanding what personal space is. Of course, it's better to keep away from people as much as possible – it's simply easier this way. But if you already interact with them – what's wrong if you stand too close to someone? 

But it mattered to others, and Ominis, Chris did know, valued his personal space even more than people usually did. Chris would have stepped away immediately if not for a detail that caught his attention – the dark circles under Ominis’s eyes. 

Just like before. 

When Chris had left half a month ago, he had thought Omnis would finally have an opportunity to rest from him. Deep down, he was always afraid – what if Ominis was spending so much time with him out of sheer politeness or, worse, pity? 

In his fifth year, Chris had been sure that if people were “kind” to him, it was just because they needed something from him. Why had Sebastian been so friendly with him when he had arrived at Hogwarts? Obviously, because of ancient magic, which could potentially be a key to healing Anne. All this nonsense about “friendship” was just a convention, a game played as long as it was beneficial, a fairytale to fantasise about. 

But then there was Ominis, who didn’t conform to the idea that friendship was a mere cooperation. For some reason, he cared for Sebastian no matter what, despite all the disadvantages. And then Chris began to doubt. What if friendship really existed as it was described in books? At least in rare cases? Inside, he always wanted to believe in it, but his rational side made fun of his naivety. But what if he did find a proof? 

It became important for Chris to save the friendship between the two Slytherins at all costs because if it fell, so would all his childish hopes that he, too, could be someone’s friend one day. 

Who was he to Ominis? Chris didn't lie to himself – of course, he was just a convenient tool to handle Sebastian. Anyway, he idolised Ominis like a magizoologist would worship a unique fantastic beast they had just discovered. 

And then Fig died. 

Sitting there, somewhere under Hogwarts, alone, absolutely alone as usual, next to the body of the only person closest to the notion of family Chris had ever had, the boy got mad at himself. 

Why is he so obsessed with others? Why does he still hope so desperately to obtain the illusion of family? To find a magical creature named ‘friend’ from fairytales? Why does he keep hurting himself with shards of shattered hope when he can just be alone and not care about anyone?

Sink or swim. It was always his motto in the orphanage. He was alone, and he always would be. Why did he suddenly start to hope for something else in Hogwarts? Stupid, he was so stupid. It was time to accept it and grow up. 

He had never valued his life. But after Fig had died, Chris started to hate that he was alive and often sneaked out of the castle in the hope that a particular goblin, troll or poacher would become the last.

Too bad he was good at surviving. 

Until that time in the Undercroft. Chris was finally so close to ending this meaningless turmoil. And then Ominis intervened. Of course, The Saint and Noble one had to heal The Loser to be even more perfect. 

But when Ominis was pressing him against the wall and kept yelling at him, Chris realised that the blond wasn't mad because of Chris's disdainful and arrogant attitude. The words that Ominis was spitting into his face weren't the words Chris had expected to hear. 

Ominis was desperate. For some reason, he was really afraid for Chris and valued his life more than Chris himself ever did – not for something, but in spite of everything, as if Chris were someone like Sebastian to him.

After Ominis had left, his words echoed in Chris's ears for a long time as he slid down the wall onto the dirty floor of the Undercroft. The person Ominis cared about? Their friendship? Could it be that Chris had been Ominis's friend all that time? The thought was totally new and shocking for him.

It was hard to believe in it. 

Impossible. 

But doesn’t rage often work like Veritaserum? And Ominis had been mad. He had been so mad that Chris feared that if he had said a word, Ominis would have killed him on the spot and become even madder.

When Hope, the dying creature with broken wings inside of Chris, tried to draw attention to itself, the boy became irritated that he wanted to listen to it again instead of kicking it away. But this new theory was worth investigating. What was he losing? 

Starting to speak with Ominis again was one of the hardest things he had ever done (and he had defeated Ranrok). What if he understood it all wrong and would just impose himself on the blind boy? What if their last interaction had at last destroyed whatever they had had? What if Ominis would just push him away, laughing? But the experiment should be continued. 

The results exceeded Chris’s wildest expectations. Ominis not only accepted him as if nothing had happened and gave him enough time to gather himself together to apologise. For some miraculous reason, Chris felt that Ominis needed his mere presence – not something from him – even when they just sat together next to the fireplace, listening to the quiet song of fire. 

Following the sink-or-swim motto, Chris wasn't used to caring for someone. But now he was ready to give anything at all, only to see Ominis smiling, to make him happy. And every time Chris succeeded, he couldn't be happier himself. He almost forgot that itching desire to find an excuse to risk his life. 

But when he was away, the old doubts began to haunt him. Why would someone so perfect as Ominis want to be around someone like Chris, whose life was just a mess? The guy without a past, broken present, and a future, whose arrival he was endangering. 

The more time he spent away from Ominis, the louder the voice in his head pushed him to do something stupid until it finally got the better of him. 

The incident with ashwinders only cost him one Wiggenweld potion. 

But it was enough to bring back memories of Ominis beating some sense into him in the Undercroft.

No matter what, Ominis wanted him safe. 

Chris had read that “I’d die for you” thing in some books. It didn’t make any sense to him because it didn’t sound like a big deal. He’d die for himself. But when he thought about Ominis’s words echoing around the Undercroft, he realised that for the moon-eyed boy he was ready to make a much more labour-consuming sacrifice. 

He’d live for him.

So Chris had made sure the last incident had been really the last one. 

Anyway, he had missed Ominis deeply, so seeing him today was a relief. But Merlin - the blond looked so tired. 

“You didn’t sleep well recently”, Chris said quietly, slowly running his right thumb under Ominis’s left eye.

That voice, the voice Ominis loved and missed so much, sounded so gentle, so concerned, and so…close. The touch felt like an electric jolt. Ominis’s head was spinning, the heart pounding in his ears and racing so fast, forcing his breathing to quicken, but it was a trap because he inhaled more of Chris’s smell now, and that was the end of Ominis’s composure. 

He reached out his hand and lowered it on Chris’s back of the head. Someone stop him! He ran his fingers through the short strands. That wasn't right! Clinging to the last echoes of reason, Ominis whispered, pulling Chris closer, “Aren’t you going to stand up? Someone might see us and jump to conclus –” 

The door flung open, revealing one of their housemates, a boy with jet-black hair and chocolate eyes, holding a book.

“Hey Ominis, you – ” he broke off. The short pause was followed by a flow of frantic “Sorry!” and the sound of rapidly fading footsteps.

Chris jumped off the couch and glanced at the retreating intruder. That was an impressive running speed, he had to admit. Perhaps they scared the boy even more than he did them. “Like this?” he asked, amused.

“Precisely like this,” Ominis sounded bitter. The warmth, the smell, the weight – everything disappeared, leaving him with his heart beating wildly. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and interlocking his fingers tightly. 

Chris tilted his head, watching the blond. Was Ominis so upset because that boy misinterpreted what he saw? The brunet wouldn’t care about it, but Ominis looked frustrated, which was something to care about. Chris had to fix it. 

”I…I will go and try to find him. Explain that it was a mistake,” he said, trying not to imagine what it would look like. 

Hi buddy! It wasn’t what you think it was. I fell on him. What? No, I normally don’t fall on people like this, so yeah, you’re safe. Chris shook his head. Maybe he would need to come up with a lie that would sound more plausible than the truth. But it was the problem of the future Chris.

“Right,” Ominis simply brought out. Chris was about to leave but suddenly stopped.

“Imissdyu,” he blurted, turning to the couch but averting his minty eyes from the boy on it, even though Ominis couldn't see him.

”I beg your pardon?” Ominis was baffled. If he didn’t know any better, he just heard, “I missed you.” But, of course, he knew better. Phineas Black would sooner smile at students heartily than Chris Mongrel would speak about feelings. 

"I…" It was Chris's turn to grow red even more intensively than Ominis a couple of minutes before. He knew the words were correct – he had read in books about people saying them to each other in similar circumstances, but Chris couldn't bring himself to repeat them. 

"Please, don't make me say it again. You heard it right."

After a short pause, he added, suddenly interested in the stone pattern on the floor, "Can I read to you tonight? I mean, as usual." Then, he would ask why Ominis didn't sleep well.

"I hoped you'd ask this," the blind boy finally smiled. Then, he would ask what made Chris drink the Wiggenweld potion.

“See you later then,” beamed Chris, relieved. He finally looked at the moon-eyed boy and was about to head out when Ominis’s voice stopped him.

“Chris?”

“Mhm?” 

“I missed you, too.” Only Ominis could smile like that – like the warm light of the lamppost sparkling on the snow. “Hear you later.”

“I…khm…yeah…Gotta go.” Chris made a few steps backwards toward the way out, still watching Omins, then turned around and crashed into a doorpost. “They… have to make the doors wider,” he said, leaving.

Ominis chuckled softly, listening to Chris’s fading footsteps. Then, a wave of panic washed over him again as he realised that mere minutes ago he could have ruined everything, succumbing to temptation. He rubbed his face with his palms, exhaling audibly. What was he thinking about? 

But now, everything was right. And tonight he will sleep better. Thank Merlin, the point of no return had not been reached. Or should he say thanks to the student that had broken into their dorm? 

Perhaps that guy will have another visitor today. 

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

The song from the epigraph. I wrote Chris's part while listening to it.

[hwanchaesong]

↗🏢 Entering 3rd floor: One more and two more. Losing and winning. Bets and money thrown away like rags but nothing matters when the prize is on his lap. 🌌

🎧: Chase Atlantic - Obsessive

wc: 1.3k

genre & warnings: fluff, angst, suggestive, chaebol au, cursing, a game of poker (inaccurate representation), themes of luxury and higher society, a steamy kiss, mentions of marriage etc etc

a/n: this is a part of The Paradise Hotel series. if y'all want, you can read the other album inspired fics of other groups here.

Heart racing faster every time a second ticks away in the vintage wooden clock displayed in the corner of the luxurious room. 

The smoke that some bystanders blow somehow makes it harder for you to breathe, and maybe, you should’ve cut off the wine while you had the chance because it is now making your head dizzy.

Your eyes traveled to the dashing, well-dressed man seated in front of you, a hand on his chin like he’s thinking of something deep. His own orbs are focused on the table, more precisely, at the laid flop cards. 

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his feigned contemplation, rationality is not a trait of his, but rather his enemy. Impulsivity and arrogance are his friends, which is about to show themselves when the male makes eye contact with you, a devilish smirk on his glossy lips. 

“To make this dull game interesting,” he mutters confidently, his hands going over the plethora of purple and yellow chips, “let's raise the stakes.”

Multiple gasps were heard, the people who are watching the ongoing match of poker are in awe at the bold move. Surely, gambling a whopping 10,000 dollars is not a joke. You’re either crazy or poised, no in-between. 

The thing is, Beomgyu still has more money to bet, but the amount that he waged is all that you have.

You squint your eyes at him when he motioned for you to make your move. Oh, he’s playing a damning game, but you are a lioness yourself. Backing down from a challenge is not the right way to end your night. 

“I’ll take you on that.” you said, sliding your remaining chips in the middle of the table, "Call. All in."

The tension is palpable which can only be cut off with a saw, and you can’t help but regret meeting this vexing man in such a place.

It was supposed to be your getaway from the busy training life that you live in, being an heir for one of the largest corporations of the country isn’t exactly ideal, like what everyone says.

“You are one lucky child!”

“I wish I’m living the life you have.”

Fuck all that. Where’s the luck? And how dare they think that being born in an extravagant family equates to a happy one. 

You are nothing but a tool for them to make their company larger, bigger, and be the number one. A trophy that they can show around. Intelligent, beautiful, and manners as elegant as a swan, the perfect daughter that can make anyone swoon. 

But you despise the mask that you have to put on every time you face the crowd, you hate the attention from the onlookers who did nothing but to judge and gossip.

You wanted freedom, true happiness, a flash of dopamine.. those things you get in a thrilling match of poker.

You learned the game when you were 13. Out of your mind and going crazy from learning how to play the damn violin, then your music teacher suggested a fun activity that he'll let you enjoy during your free time.

That was when you discovered your hidden talent in.. well, gambling.

That was also when you discovered Choi fucking Beomgyu.

You've actually heard about him. Another one of those fortunate heirs but unlike you, he's rather conceited and selfish; that is according to the gossip.

And hell, he's good at playing poker. The only person who has defeated you, and you hated that with passion.

He looks like an idiot, handsome yes, but still an idiot in your eyes, and it annoys you to no end that this dimwit actually has enough brains to do mind games and do math.

So, here you are, provoked to actually accept a round of poker after he went and spouted how scared you were of him.

Instead of enjoying champagne and steak in the large yacht, you are sitting with your pride and a camouflaged bet on the line, praying to the gods out there to let you win this time.

Beomgyu checked his whole cards, clapping his hands afterwards and relaxing his figure on the sofa. Legs crossed and arms draped over the sofa back.

"Not too late to fold, darling." he utters, eyeing you like a hawk.

You scoffed, returning his sentiments, "No thanks, but you are free to do so."

He shrugged your comments, kind of telling you to 'suit yourself', opting to focus on the game when the dealer began to drop the turn and the river.

Your hand is shaky, staring at the pot while you recheck your cards at hand. It's good. Amazingly excellent. Luck and statistics are on your side.

Beomgyu must be bluffing that confident countenance.

"Miss and sir, it's time to show your hands." the dealer says, and you did the honor of showing yours first.

"Straight flush." you smirk at Beomgyu's surprised expression, but then your joy plummeted when he revealed his hand.

"Royal flush, baby."

The crowd roared, a seismic thrill from the close match of poker.

You close your eyes, gritting your teeth in anger, stopping yourself from cursing or doing anything remotely ungraceful. You just lost a game, you're not going to humiliate yourself further.

"I am getting all this... later." Beomgyu smiles wickedly, ushering the guards to make everyone in the room to leave and give you two privacy.

It is a public space, but his family's power and influence are not to be messed with. Thus, he must be obeyed at all costs.

Rushing footsteps are heard, then silence follows after the door has been shut.

You now opened your eyes, meeting his in a heated stare before asking for his demands, "What do you want? I'm telling you though, I'm not giving you any of my games anymore. Spare that."

"You are getting engaged, right?"

His question astounded you. Does the news really spread that fast?

"Who are you getting engaged with?" he resumed his interrogation, not moving an inch in his manspreading position that he assumed in the process of his inquiries.

"Heeseung. Lee Heeseung. Well, that's what I heard." you answered, avoiding eye contact with him.

You were shocked when he laughed aloud, peering at him incredulously, "What is your problem?"

"Lee Heeseung, that's low." he snickers, amused at the thought of you marrying his mortal nemesis, "Yeah, no. You're marrying me instead."

His declaration is a bomb, dropped on you suddenly and you are not quite sure on how to react but laugh awkwardly.

He is a man of impulsive decisions and foolishness, but this is way too far. A sick prank that he's brewing in order to entertain himself in his playground.

"I- Beomgyu. Do you hear yourself? Have you finally gone mad?" you asked, standing up from your seat, not willing to humor his bullshit anymore.

He wasn't speaking and you took that as your cue to remove yourself in this.. uncomfortable discussion.

"It was nice playing with you, get some rest while you're at it. Yeah?" you gave him a tight-lipped smile, proceeding to step away from the room but as you passed by him, you were forcefully pulled towards him.

You didn't have the chance to process the situation. One moment you're on your feet, then the next you're seated on his lap, his lips on yours while he holds you close to your body.

What's weird though, is that you didn't resist the kiss, you enjoy it.

You liked the way his lips molded into yours, nibbling on your lower lip and biting it rather harshly before licking the incoming bruise away. Pulling away from you to mumble against your lips.

"That bambi boy sucks, you should know better that I am far superior than him. Besides," he laid you down the cushions of the sofa, his electrifying fingers trailing on your sides, "you lost to me. Don't you want to play more rounds of poker with me until you're able to win at least a round?"

You let out an offended wheeze, your arms wrapping around his shoulders, "Choi Beomgyu," you whisper his name, your digits playing with the hair on the back of his neck, "Less talk, more action."

taglist:

@hyunjinheartbreakprince @lun4kazumii @once27 @purrplegyuu @yawnzsof @baeksofty @shakalakaboomboo

[theallianceofcelestials]

I have two questions (I hope that’s ok)

are you going to continue the witching hour series? It’s one of my favorites by you

If you can, can I have a drable of lunar and bloodmoon being cute together (in the witching hour universe if you can)

Dw, it's fine.

Yepp, WH will be continued, I just need to finish up the second oneshot which'll be a sequel

"Lunar look out!"

He startles at the shout, barely whipping around in time to see a scared boar dashing towards him. It's side is bleeding.

Lunar can't help it, he screams

But just as the creature decides he's an easy target, it rapidly stops. He looks at it weirdly, unsure what just happened. But then-

"Bloodmoon, what did you two do?!"

He winces in sympathy at his big brothers, who're really in it now. Mom sounds preeetty angry

"We were trying to draw it! Not our fault a random hunter can't aim to his his life!"

They glare at the ground, and Lunar can swear he's never seen them this angry. They look genuenly upset by this.

So the witch sighs, approaching the animal and taking what seems to be an arrow out. It limps of after that.

"But did you start chasing it?"

They redden even more than they already are, and Lunar realises they weren't just running after it to stop it from getting here, but actively chasing it.

"Bloodmoon what the hell!?"

"It was fuuuuuuuuun!"

It's been a while since he's seen them whine like this, but right now, right after they've steered an angry and scared animal in his direction, he feels rage bubbling up.

"I'm going to absolutely drown you in the lake!"

Bloodmoon growls at him, optics flashing in rage

"Not if we get to you first brother! What can you even do against me and my other?"

"You boys are ridiculous, and I have to see this. Wait until I finish my potion then you can extract your bloody revenge"

So, like every sane person, they wait for their mom to finish while they throw sticks at each other behind his back.

"Alright, grab your swimming clothes and let's go"

It says a lot how he's already in his own. It's clear he doesn't trust them right now to actually avoid drowning the other

Lunar doesn't wait, and with a cheeky flick of a hand sends a small wave right at his brothers. They squawk in indignation, but can't avoid getting drenched

He bursts out laughing, only to yelp as Bloodmoon pounces on him, pressing him under the water. But with some tickling, he gets freed.

They continue on like that, splashing the other with water, occasionally he'll send another wave their way, and then they'll retaliate by dunking him under the surface, and he'll have to wrestle for his freedom.

It's fun! He's laughing even when his head is under water, and the twins aren't any better.

And when they finally decide to get out, their mom surprises them with lunch! It's amazing!

And if they spend the rest of the day by the lakeside, then who cares?

[tkthrilla-writes]

Oh Way Down We Go

An Alastor x Host!Reader that is set in the early days of their contract making, set while reader is in college

______________________________________________________________

“The fucking audacity! I swear if there is even a God- somewhere! Anywhere!” she shouted and screamed, her hands holding tight onto the bars, “Get me out of here!” she continued to yell out in her jail cell.

“Shut up already!” the police officer just outside her cell barked back, having had enough of her tantrums.

“I don’t even know what the hell happened and why I am here! Just let me go!”

“Not until your papers have been processed missy!”

And with a sigh of exasperation, she hit her head against the bars, “great,” she wallowed out, “now my future is ruined.”

“It’s your own fault for being at the crime scene and not cooperating!”

“But I didn’t do anything! I don’t remember anything,” she continued to bang her head on the bars a couple more times before giving up and heading over to the semi clean corner of the jail cell that did not smell or stink of piss. Leaning her back against the wall, and sliding down to sit on the floor in exasperation.

She wasn’t sure how long she had stayed there, could’ve been minutes or hours, people passing by giving her smug looks as if she was the guilty one and she wasn’t getting away with it. All she knew is that this situation revolved around a murder, while she did have an idea as to who committed the murder, she was telling the truth on not know what happened.  It’s not like she was awake or anything during the whole thing, and quite frankly, when Alastor takes over their body, he really takes over! While she does get an inkling as to what is happening, unlike Alastor who is there in the back of her head while she is in control, it’s as if she is in a deep sleep.

So you can imagine her ‘waking up’ in the middle of the street to police cars surrounding her, and cops pointing their guns at her while two people tried to drag her away and stuff her into the car! Her head was probably bruised because she was sure one of them knocked her head into the car door! And don’t get started on how they treated her in the interrogation room, literally only screaming and shouting right at her face for a murder that had just happened, five blocks away. She wasn’t anywhere near the scene of the crime! But no, she was the only one closest to the crime scene! It had to be her!

To top it all off, it was supposed to be her day today, and all she wanted to do was stay in and study! But nooooo, Alastor had to be a smartass and take over for the day, despite him know they have an exam in a couple weeks!

Why was she surrounded by idiots and assholes? All this demon was doing was making her life miserable, more so than it already was. With how badly he treats her, like a toy! Did she sell her soul to him? Sure she did. But he was supposed to help make her life better, not ruin it by sending her to prison!

At this point it started to feel like an eternity with how long and how board she had started to get. Till finally a cop showed up and actually started to open the cell, “Come on! You’re being bailed out!”

“Uh ok,” she said, pretty sure she looked dumb and stupid at the notion of her scrambling to get up from the floor, till she questioned, “by who?”

“By me,” a tall and tanned figure appeared in a white dress shirt and brown trousers to match. He wore only what she could describe as a very annoyed smile, his eyes showing no interest whatsoever, as if he would rather be doing anything else and be elsewhere rather than here. Which the feeling was mutual. “Come along… darling…” he held his smile, although that sounded a lot like a sneer. Ok now this guy was about to get on her nerves, but she wasn’t about to push her luck and miss a chance of freedom.

Dashing behind the tall gentleman while being sure to stick her tongue out at the cop, out of pettiness and extreme annoyance. Something the cop visibly reacted to what only could be described as the Beifong look of insult – you know the one.

The two kept silent as they both walked past the office booths full of police personnel, till they reached the reception area full of either visitors or people waiting to be transferred to a different department, more cops filtering in and out of the crowd while they we just two normal people walking out a building… well, almost normal.

The moment they had pasted the main door to go outside, down a couple of stairs, the ever so kind gentleman started to spazz for a second or two, “Uh you ok?” the human who had just got out what could be a prison sentence spoke up.

“Never better!” the gentleman replied annoyance becoming more evident the more his head started to twitch and bend to what should not have been humanly possible.

“Great! Now who are you and why’d you bail me out?! As far as I know I never made a call!” and so the tirade began, the frustration of today and what essentially could ruin an entire life still weighing down heavily.

“Must you be so dense darling?” darling having the main emphasis sounded quite condescending and quite frankly insulting, as the strangers smile started to grow even more annoyed.

“OI nobody calls me darling you creep, now come on answer my question!”

“Really? Nobody!” the man how just fizzled out into thin air, leaving the “darling” in question heavily confused, only finally clicking in a second later when a wave of immense exhaustion came crashing in, nearly knocking her down the stairs as her knees started to buckle. Luckily she caught herself just in time before taking a nasty fall to the head. Great! First jail time with a record and now a whopping hospital bill, what a great way to end the day!

“Al….” she sneered. 

“Darling….” He sneered back.

“Since when could you come out of my body and look human you demon?”

“Since those of are the rules of contracts with mortal denizens who are ALIVE,” he placed great emphasis on the word alive, “only able to do so for a few minutes at a time and takes great energy to make it work.”

“And now we are both exhausted and have a don’t know how long walk back home! Something that could’ve been avoided if you didn’t take over today!” Starting to walk down the stairs and struggling to march over to the bus stop that was thankfully conveniently placed infront of the police station.

“Excuse you! Where is my ‘thank you?! I’m the one who got you out!”

“Right after you murdered someone and put me in there in the first place!”

“First of all I unfortunately take no credit in that, although the circumstances were quite humorous! Second, you should be thanking me for erasing records of your involvement and getting you out!”

“Wait you did what?”

“I will not repeat myself dear,” the hmpf in his speech could be heard at the end, making the dear host of the demon just be startled in confusion, climbing up the bus that had arrived and would take them hopefully close to home, paying for the ticket fare.

“Why?” she finally asked after a couple of seconds of silence hung in the air, having finally sat down on something relatively padded and resting for a bit. The exhaustion of Alastor entering her body after he took his human form was weighing more than heavy on her nearly making her pass out on her seat. Only thing that kept her awake was the conversation they were semi-having and the fact that this part of town was not familiar to her so she needed to be aware and pay attention to her surroundings outside of the bus.

“Well I did maul it over after the lad insulted the way we dressed, however there were witnesses and it was broad daylight. Oh the irony of someone else getting to murder him!”

“No I mean, why? As in why erase my records and get me out?”

“Well it would do me no good in having my host behind bars where we would be unable to roam free and cause chaos and madness.”

The pause was evident between the two, leaving them hung in silence. The sun shining bright creating shadows to pass by on the humans face, the tiredness kicking in and making her lean on the bus window. The vibrations from that were making the emerging headache bearable.

“Doesn’t change the fact that it was supposed to be my turn today. Why’d you take over I thought you said you had more important business to take over than make sure a human is peak condition and fit for hurting others,” the sadness hung heavy in what they said, especially after they thought this whole taking over randomly fiasco was over and they finally settled on a schedule.

“I was but business finished early, thought I’d drop by and take over after you mauled at those books of yours for hours. A nice stroll would’ve done you some good!”

“Stroll or hunt for victims?”

“…. Failure,” Alastor retorted, feeling both insulted and called out on his other agendas.

“Dead,” she countered, making a face as she realised she said that out loud of the mental conversation that they were having.

“How dare you?!” he cried in offence.

“I dare,” she retorted, removing her head from the window, the vibrations becoming too much and starting to make said headache get worse.

 Alasator let out a Tsk at the sweet and daring audacity his darling host had.

“Thank you.”

“For what exactly?”

“I aint saying anything else! If anything you still owe me!” continuing on with their back and forth banter and shenanigans till they arrived home.

“Speaking of which,” his host started as soon as they returned back into the cramped-up dorm, it was just a small room with a bed, desk and bathroom, but it was cosy enough for one person – well… one person and their radio demon, who turned on the radio amidst the messy pile of books on the desk to fill the background with classic 1920’s music, “I thought you agreed on that schedule, thought I was finally going to have today, or do we need to fight again before we settle it,” the curtain on the window closed as clothes started to be flung all over the place, the human now more than ready to take a long shower to get rid of the smell of rotting hopes, crushed dreams and prison sweat.

“Honestly my dear how lowly do you think of me in this arrangement?”

“Just answer the question Al,” the exasperation could be heard with every word, now entering the bathroom and stopping to look into the mirror to see the dishevelled hair, bloodshot eyes, and dark circles getting darker if that was possible. Plus it was easier to talk to someone who is in your head when you can at least see another person.

“I do not know what to tell you or what it is you wisht o hear, this is my body after all, and you do not do a very good job at taking care of it –“

“You mean my body!”

“My contract, my host, my rules. Therefore, my body! You take these humanly affairs and books too seriously! It is good to pursue knowledge, I do encourage that! But what I do not encourage is this body of MINE to be in poor shape when it gets down to hell!” he continued, wispy and shadowed antlers starting to appear in the mirror, perfectly placed up on the head nearly like a thorny crown, radio static starting to fill the air and drown out the music playing in the background.

“Charming,” she says breaking eye contact with the person in the mirror in favour of getting in the shower. At least she can somewhat count on him to take care of her and get her out of prison before going straight to hell.

[what-have-i-unleashed]

so.... the murder player trio from this post a while ago.... i want to write something about them so here it goes...

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:11 PM]: OMG GUYSSSSSS!! 🖤🖤🖤 70d4y k1ll_sans 74lk3d 70 m3 ⁉️⁉️ m3 ‼️‼️ h3 n071c3d m3 😮😮😮 my 50n 15 641n1n6 53n713nc3 17'5 50 c00l 1 f33l l1k3 1 c4n d13 h4ppy n0w 💥💥

SugarWoe

[6:17 PM]: oh my god. mimi, PLEASE. i'm too old for this.

DASH1002

[6:20 PM]: what the fuck am i reading

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:21 PM]: h3h3 😁😁😁 1'm ju57 7ry1n6 0u7 4 n3w 7yp1n6 57yl3. d035n'7 17 l00k c00l?? 🥰🥰

SugarWoe

[6:23 PM]: mimi. i'm begging you. as a friend and your elder. stop this please.

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:24 PM]: y0u ju57 w4n7 70 k1ll my 51lly 5mh 😒😒😒

DASH1002

[6:24 PM]: mimi i cannot tell what you're saying i'm using text-to-speech to listen to you guys right now what the hell is h three h three beaming face with smiling eyes emoji

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:25 PM]: fine!! no more cool leet speak... for now anyway. only because dash is too busy to look at our chat right now smh 😒😒😒

SugarWoe

[6:25 PM]: thank you mimi. anyway, what were you saying?

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:26 PM]: oh right!!

[6:28 PM]: okay soooo. y’all HAVE to hear about what happened in my game today. it was WILD. i was just doing a casual run with k1ll_sans. vibing, wrecking NPCs, blah blah blah you know the drill. and out of nowhere, he turned to look at me and started to talk to me aaaaaaa 👀💥⁉️⁉️

[6: 29 PM]: it was so cool you HAD to be there!! i didn't program that in! he did it on his own! k1ll_sans is a creepypasta character confirmed yayyyy!!! 💗💖❤️‍🔥

DASH1002

[6:38 PM]: are you sure your game just didn't glitch because it sounds like one to me

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:46 PM]: dash, you’re so boring 😤😤😤 this isn’t just a bug!! he’s LEARNING. like, evolving past what i coded him to do. something big gonna happen 🖤🖤🖤

SugarWoe

[6:51 PM]: you know, mimi? this is the point in a creepypasta story where you definitely should be throwing away that copy of the game. it will haunt you.

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:52 PM]: sugar not you too 💔💔💔 why am i friends with two killjoys 😔😔

SugarWoe

[6:53 PM]: i'm a killjoy for pointing out an obvious horror trope?

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:53 PM]: YOU ARE!!

[6:54 PM]: k1ll_sans is not gonna crawl out of my screen and murder me. he’s like, my little cyber-child! he loves me 🖤

DASH1002

[6:56PM]: famous last words

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[6:56 PM]: and even if he did kill me for all the torture i put him through, i'd still forgive him 😁😁😁

[6:56 PM]: DASH 💔💔💔💔💔💔💔

[6:57 PM]: you're such a hater 😒😒😒 at least sugar will get me. do you, sugar???

SugarWoe

[7:02 PM]: oh, absolutely. i love the idea of your little gremlin of a creation gaining sentience just to talk to you about nothing at all.

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:03 PM]: (i'd ignore that last jab) THANK YOU. finally!! someone with taste!!!!

SugarWoe

[7:05 PM]: but also, if he starts asking you about things like “freedom” or “the nature of humanity,” maybe… unplug your PC for a bit.

DASH1002

[7:06 PM]: yeah before he jumps at you through the screen with his edgelord knife

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:09 PM]: he’d never!! 😡😡 😡 he’s my baby!

SugarWoe

[7:13 PM]: i think dash meant that you should be careful about potential malwares. nothing to worry about, i hope.

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:15 PM]: awww thanks for the concern, sugar 🖤🖤🖤 this is why you're my favorite non-gaymer friend 🥰🥰

SugarWoe

[7:16 PM]: i love you too mimi!

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:16 PM]: love you even more 💖💖💖💖

DASH1002

[7:20 PM]: sorry to interrupt the heartfelt love confessions but i'm gonna stream the game now if you guys wanna see me kick sans' bony ass again

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:21 PM]: hope you lose for the 67th time, detestable dash 👎👎👎

SugarWoe

[7:21 PM]: mimi... be nice...

xXx_ki11er_mimi_xXx

[7:22 PM]: ack sorry sweetheart (since apparently we're a thing now according to dash smh)

SugarWoe

[7:23 PM]: oh in that case you should call me sugar then :)

DASH1002

[7:23 PM]: enough flirting i'm playing the game now

SugarWoe

[7:24 PM]: sorry dash! i'm in the stream now!