I'm easing back into writing this November by doing a pseudo NaNoWriMo! I'm challenging myself to write 500 words a day.

If anyone wants to help, feel free to send me:

Not sure if this was what you had in mind, but my brain fixed on the idea and refused to let go. I also tried out a mixed POV fic, which isn't something I've done often, but enjoyed playing with. Hope you enjoy!

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I fear...

Harry/Draco; Rated T

“I fear you have become obsessed with Draco Malfoy. Again,” Hermione said, over the brim of her teacup. 

Across town, over a shot of firewhiskey, Zabini doled out nearly the very same sentiment. “Harry Potter this, Harry Potter that--You’re completely obsessed with him. Again.”

At the same time, unbeknownst to the one another, Harry and Draco slumped back in their chairs and replied, “It’s not my fault. He’s completely insufferable.”

Their friends were very much over this constant state of existence.

The next morning, Draco did his best to shake Harry Potter out from under his skin. He took the long way around Diagon Alley, so he didn’t have to see Potter’s ridiculously wonderful new Broom and Flying Lesson shop. He avoided the best street carts at his lunch hour, in the off chance that maybe, possibly, Harry would be there too. And while he did, in fact, need to replace his broom oil, he went to a far inferior shop in Hogsmeade instead. 

It wasn’t until Draco was getting ready to apparate from Hogsmeade back to his potions shop in the heart of Diagon Alley, that he came to a horrifying realization: in trying to avoid Harry Potter, he spent the entire day thinking about him.

Earlier that same afternoon, Harry had Hermione’s words echoing in his mind. Over and over, he considered how, at so many different moments in his life, he’d become fixated on Draco. Now, it was because they somehow found themselves shop owners on the same street. But the part of him that seethed heat straight into his veins knew that no matter what, he’d find some excuse to focus on Draco Malfoy.

Enough was enough.

The familiar swoop of apparation hit Draco and Harry at the same time, minds fixed on each other, one suppressing his thoughts, the other newly determined. They arrived at Draco’s potion shop with a simultaneous pop.

“Potter--?”

“Malfoy!”

Draco had to do a double take, afraid that his single-focus had brought him to Harry’s shop instead of his own. But no, instead Harry stood surrounded by cauldrons and vials, looking like he was about to charge off into battle.

So, he looked breathtaking. 

Harry had gathered his courage but now, in front of Draco, catching sight of his famously pale hair and deceivingly soft features, the words froze in his throat.

Brazen, bold, fearless -- he was a Gryffindor and he could get through this.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked, breathless.

“Let’s get a drink,” Harry garbled the words, too fast and voice low, but they were out there, in the open. Fear officially conquered. 

Draco hadn’t expected a lot from his evening, but there was an unsettling certainty in the pit of his stomach that no matter what, his night’s thoughts would orbit around this man. Mine as well go out to dinner with him. What’s the worst that could happen? What was there to fear? A part of him screamed: everything. But he was ambitious enough to grab onto this opportunity with both hands. 

That didn’t mean he had any intention in making it easy for Harry. He did like to see him squirm, after all.

Harry watched as Draco narrowed his eyes, and the expression shouldn't twist behind Harry's groin, but it did. Want mixed with fear, soaked with obsession. But he could tell by Draco’s smirk, he was just as into the idea. “Come on,” Harry pushed. “Say yes, or you're buying.”

Draco barked out a laugh. “That makes no sense at all. You make no sense at all.” Draco pushed past him and walked towards the exit of his potions shop, holding open the door. “You coming?”

Harry rolled his eyes. “You’re going to be insufferable, aren’t you?” he asked with a smile, sliding past the door and onto Diagon Alley’s evening streets. He knew Draco would fall in step at his side.

“I have it on good authority, I can be quite insufferable when it comes to you.”

Harry knocked their shoulders together. It felt like he was on a broomstick, rushing towards the snitch. “I fear you and I have that in common.”

fin

Writing Game!

It's nano month, and I'm like 8k into original fiction, missing all my favorite fiction babes. SO - writing game!

I usually do 3 Words and a Ship but I want to mix it up. Feel free to send in any prompt (or 3 words and a ship, if you prefer) for any of the following ships/fandoms:

MCU:

Star Wars:

Yuri!! on Ice:

Supernatural:

Harry Potter:

Red, White and Royal Blue

Game Changers Series

Feeling Spookily Festive!

Send me "trick" or "treat" and I'll write a short lil ficlet for you!

Trick: horror, angst, dark, smut but dark

Treat: fluffy, humor, family-friendly, smut but cute

Include a ship and fandom or else I pick whatever strikes my fancy.

Thank you for the prompt! I'm so excited to write these two. I switched "movies" to "holovid" to better fit the universe but the rest remain the same. Happy reading!

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“Goodbye…Darth.”

Darth.

Darth.

The name reverberated through the ceaseless torrent of thoughts that surged through Darth Vader's mind inside the silence of the bacta tank.

Anakin Skywalker had haunted him. A ghost of a war general, The Hero With No Fear, a padawan, a master, a former slave—Anakin Skywalker the famous Jedi.

Darth Vader lived a nightmare in the overwhelming sensory deprivation of the tank. He saw every moment that one person had called him Anakin, from their first meeting to the day he had left him to die on Mustafar. It was a holovid stream he couldn’t escape: a young boy with fear in his eyes and hope in his heart, shaking hands with his soon-to-be master; a young man recently knighted, knocking shoulders with his brother-in-arms; a war general with a fierce and possessive desire to protect his greatest attachment.

In all the galaxy, only one person still breathing had continued to call him Anakin. 

Anakin

Anakin.

“You were my brother, Anakin. I loved you.”

~~~~

Across the universe, in the deepest caves of Tatooine, Obi-Wan’s eyes snapped open. 

Through a long-neglected, battered, and burnt Force bond, he heard the whispers from a man he had thought was dead, learned had lived, then mourned anew. The voice in the bond was more familiar than any, absent the modulating mask. 

Following the voice through the bond, Obi-Wan sensed its owner’s tumultuous thoughts. Amidst his mourning, he sensed a questioning from the thought’s owner, one that the owner had believed to be buried, long dead like Anakin himself.

The questioning sparked the smallest of embers, a miniscule glow—light in the darkness. With the final loss of a name, a transformation took hold in the owner. In the acknowledgement of loss, flickering flames grew, breathing life into something new: the unyielding will to fight.

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If anyone else is interested, check out my Writing Game!

I loved getting the opportunity to write these two! Thanks so much, anon :-*

----- Alex

“The situation remains unfathomable, sweetheart, as to why we find ourselves sneaking out of the city under the cover of darkness.” 

Alex had been with Henry for almost two years, and he knew he’d never get over the way his accent intensified the most when he was mildly annoyed. 

“You’ll see, baby,” was the only answer Alex provided, and it did nothing to loosen Henry’s pouting lips. At the next red light, Alex leaned over to the passenger seat of Henry’s Jaguar and briefly kissed the pout. “Where’s your sense of adventure?” he asked, pulling back to focus on the road again.

“I left it behind at the office, atop my desk. I recall seeing it last buried under a stack of documents advocating for LGBT homeless shelters across the American midwest.”

“Shelters that were approved this morning,” Alex reminded. “Which is why we’re getting away from the city for the weekend. We’re celebrating.”

Henry’s pout twisted into a little smirk which, for Alex, felt like a huge victory. He reached over and ran his fingers through the soft hair at the nape of Henry’s neck. 

Relaxing under Alex’s touch, Henry breathed away the last of his workday stresses. “Only you would organize surprises that involve us slipping past the Secret Service and PPOs.”

Alex turned to give Henry a quick wink. “It’s my specialty.”

~~~

Henry

At half past midnight, Alex skillfully rolled Henry’s Jaguar over the hillside. The first time Alex had asked to drive the car, Henry had scoffed an, “Absolutely not.” Now, Henry saw merit in having Alex behind the wheel. Firstly, he looked absolutely marvelous maneuvering the vehicle around curves, hand gripping the wheel with confidence. Secondly, Henry could look out the window and take in the stars. Away from the city lights, he could lean out the window and admire the sparkling constellation of Orion. 

As if reading his mind, Alex said, “See, getting away has its perks.” He sounded as smug as ever, as he veered off the highway and down a gravel path. 

Henry hummed in agreement. He’d missed the stars. 

It wasn’t until the car rolled to a stop that Henry realized they were parked in front of a magnificent set of red and ivory stables. Even in the moonlit darkness, Henry could make out the ornate trim adorning the rooftop. 

“Horses,” Henry breathed, a mixture of awe and appreciation and affection flowing through the single word. He turned to Alex. “But it's quite late; surely, the horses will be sleeping and--”

Alex pointed to the cottage on the side of the stables that had previously gone unnoticed. It was draped in vine and just as ornate as the stables. “I rented that for us, for the weekend. All we’ll do is ride and sleep, and ride and fuck, and ride and--”

Henry had more self-control than most, and he certainly did not launch himself across the car to passionately make out with his boyfriend, but only just. This infuriatingly special man always surprised him. As if to prove Henry’s point, when Alex broke away from their kiss, he sent Henry a wicked smile that went straight to his cock and whispered into the Jaguar’s darkness, “I even got fitted for my own riding gear. Crop and all.”

Henry’s throat made an ungodly noise at the mental image. “The death of me, I swear--”

Alex beamed. “With kneepads!”

“--And it’s an extraordinary way to go.”

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If anyone else is interested, check out my Writing Game!