#after sunken gardens

[drmeek]

where the guava pastry was

[beloveds-embrace]

Omg the dukedom sick reader was amazing. I'm so addicted I just love the thought that they are now realizing how far the relationship with the reader has gone. Will the reader recover? If they do, will the wound (is it on the leg?) be a constant reminder (if its something noticeable, like limp when they walk?) to the guys of what they did.

I really like the fact you put Kyle's perspective in there, how do you think the rest of the guys will react to the reader. Idk I just image a pale, malnourished person. Their face having dark circles around the eyes and just a somewhat sunken in face because of the fact they weren't eating.

How do you think the guys will try and make it up to the reader? I feel as if after that experience of being left in their room to rot, basically, they would want to be outside more, not in the manor. I see John having like a HUGE conservatory or greenhouse of plants that he used to visit just not anymore and just has his workers take care of all that with a courtyard.

I'm sorry for putting a lot

- 🐸

@nes-kopi Thanks to all of you!! I combined the answer to these all together because they are pretty much in the same wavelength, i hope no one mind 😔 linking still doesn’t work otherwise i would be linking the masterlist ueueueueue dukedom masterlist au first part

The manor was eerily quiet, but not the kind of quiet that soothed. It was oppressive, heavy, pressing against you like a weight you can’t shake. The warmth of the fire in your chambers, the softness of the freshly laundered sheets, the smell of fresh flowers arranged by the maids who now came by regularly- it all felt like a mockery. A sharp contrast to the months of cold, desolate silence that had left you here: numb, broken, and hollow.

The room was silent, save for the faint creak of wood under your weight as you shifted on the bed. The prosthetic, heavy and foreign, rested against the edge, and you stared at it with a detached sort of hatred. It wasn’t the prosthetic itself; it was what it symbolized- what you had lost, what they had taken from you without even trying.

Your body ached constantly, even after so long spent under the doctors’ care.

Your heart ached more.

The warmth of the room now- the fire, the clean sheets, the gentle glow of the afternoon sun streaming through the newly opened curtains- did nothing to thaw the frost that has made itself a home in your chest.

They were trying now. Oh, they were trying. Even if they couldn’t bring themselves to look at you in the eye anymore, though you weren’t surprised; you look… horrific. You’ve been avoiding the mirror on purpose for a good while now.

You aren’t sure what is worse; the way they ignored you before or the way they hover now.

Every step you took was a struggle. The prosthetic leg strapped to your stump was heavy and awkward, the chafing unbearable at times. Its mere existence, its mere need, alone was enough to make you balk more often than not.

But you refused their help.

When Simon silently appeared at your side during your attempts to navigate the stairs, you waved him off. When Johnny offered his arm to steady you as you crossed the garden, you shook your head. When Kyle insisted on helping you carry things, you snapped at him to leave you be. You were trying to not rot away again, yet they were making it incredibly bothersome.

And John… John lingered the most, his piercing gaze trailing after you like a shadow. His voice was softer than you’d ever heard it, his every word laced with regret. A tone never, in your entire life, aimed at you.

You wondered if he was sincere. You wondered if it even mattered if he was.

“Let me help you, Duchess.” he said one morning, watching as you struggled to tighten the straps of your prosthetic. You have not called for any help from the maids or anyone even if they lingered, and you weren’t about to ask help from him of all people.

König would’ve helped-

“I don’t need your help.” you bit out sharply, your fingers trembling as they worked against the stubborn leather. You refuse to depend on him, especially for this. Why would you trust him, or any of them, after everything?

His jaw tightened, and he knelt before you, his large hands carefully prying yours away. “Please,” he said, his voice cracking. For once, he wasn’t a presence larger than life. “Let me. Just this once.”

Your instinct was to pull away, to snarl that it was too little, too late. But the exhaustion won. You sat back in the chair, your arms limp at your sides, and let him finish securing the straps. You wished you could feel anything except for the numbness and misery that has been clouding you for so long, but you couldn’t.

His hands were gentle, his fingers brushing against your skin with a reverence that made your chest ache.

Why did it take this much for them to care?-

They tried, in their own ways, to make amends.

Johnny started bringing meals directly to you, ones that catered to your preferences. He’d sit quietly at the edge of the room, cracking jokes or humming soft tunes, never leaving until you’d taken at least a few bites. The plates are always so well-decorated, the food so well cooked, not a single spot burnt or undercooked.

Kyle began organizing the staff, ensuring your chambers were kept warm and your belongings were arranged just how you liked them. He even replaced the stiff linens with softer ones and left books on your bedside table that he thought you might enjoy. You touched none of them.

Simon never said much, but his presence was almost constant. He became your silent sentinel, appearing whenever you struggled, watching over you from a distance. He didn’t speak often, but his eyes held a kind of quiet guilt that spoke louder than words but you decided that just this once, you’ll defean your ears.

And John…

John was everywhere. He lingered outside your door at night, the faint creak of the floorboards betraying his pacing. He watched you with an intensity that made your skin crawl, not out of fear but because you couldn’t reconcile this man with the one who had left you to rot. You had nothing to say to him. You barely had the strength to refuse his help attempts already.

The days blurred together, each one a series of numb moments punctuated by pain. The servants were more attentive now even without Kyle, but you couldn’t bear their pitying looks. The maids still whispered, though the words had changed:

Poor thing. How awful.

You avoided them all.

The manor felt smaller somehow, its walls closing in no matter where you went. You found solace in the gardens- when the weather allowed and you had the strength to navigate the terrain. The cold didn’t bother you anymore; it was the one constant, a reminder that you were still alive, still breathing. Unfortunately.

They watched from the windows sometimes, their gazes following as you limped across the grounds. You didn’t acknowledge them.

Something in you broke when the doctor told you you had to stop those trips for now, for your own health. Like the miserable thing you are, he didn’t even say it to you- but to John. Told him not to let you dilly dally around.

That very same night, after you’d spent hours pushing yourself to the brink- trying to walk farther, faster, to prove you could, even as the prosthetic left your stump raw and aching anew- you collapsed into bed, trembling with exhaustion.

You thought you were alone.

The tears came before you could stop them, hot and bitter as they slid down your cheeks. Pain radiated through your leg, your shoulders, your back. But worse was the weight in your chest- the overwhelming suffocation of it all.

You buried your face in your pillow, trying to muffle the sobs that wracked your body. You didn’t hear the door creak open, didn’t see John standing there, frozen in the doorway.

He stayed there, his fists clenched at his sides, listening to your muffled weeping. His chest ached with the knowledge that this was his doing; that every single tear, every shuddering breath, was because of him and the others.

When your cries finally quieted, exhaustion lulling you to a peace-less sleep, he stepped back, closing the door as silently as he’d opened it.

Several days later, he personally led you outside.

You didn’t ask where you were going; you didn’t have the energy. When the massive glass conservatory came into view, you stopped, your breath catching in your throat. Were those… your favorite flower as well?

“I had this built for you,” John said, his voice low, hesitant. “I thought… after everything, you might want a place of your own. Somewhere to breathe.” Somewhere you can stay and walk around in.

The conservatory was beautiful, filled with lush greenery, colorful flowers, and a gentle bubbling fountain at its center. The glass walls let in streams of sunlight, and the air inside was warm and fragrant. This must’ve been in the process for a while now.

You stepped inside, your prosthetic clinking softly against the stone floor, yet you didn’t hear it. The beauty of the place was overwhelming, almost unbearably so.

“This doesn’t fix anything,” you said, your voice trembling. It didn’t, truthfully. It didn’t bring your leg back, it didn’t wash away the dark cloud clinging to you. It didn’t wash away the pain.

“I know,” John murmured, his gaze fixed on the ground. His shoulders were slumped. “But it’s a start. You deserve something… beautiful. Better. The gardens brought you peace, and I can hope that this does the same.”

You turned to find Johnny, Simon, and Kyle standing behind him, their expressions a mixture of hope and guilt.

“We’ll keep trying,” Kyle added softly.

You stared at them, your chest tight, the weight of your pain and exhaustion threatening to crush you.

“I don’t know if I can forgive you.” you whispered.

“We don’t expect you to,” Simon’s voice was quiet. “But we’re not going anywhere. We’ll be here for you regardless.”

“…don’t expect this to change anything.”

John’s voice was so painfully soft, but you didn’t notice. You were limping towards the flowers, gait uneven but determined. “I don’t.”

That night, as you lay in bed staring at the ceiling, the memory of the conservatory lingered. It was a reminder of what could have been—of what you might have had if they had tried sooner.

You still didn’t trust them.

But part of you, the part that still remembered what hope felt like, wanted to.

[fellow-fandom-fruitifier]

Imagine if ghosts reverted to their death state on the anniversary of their deaths, but I'm making it worse for Edwin in particular.

So I feel like Charles would struggle with it, obviously, but he also met Edwin when he was actively dying so, after a handful of years, he doesn't mind if Edwin -- only Edwin -- sees. They just sit down for the day and read till he can slip into his orb form in a facsimile of rest.

But then we got Edwin. This man will yap and yap about capital H Hell but God Forbid he actually TALK about his trauma. 'Charles mustn't be exposed to that!' is his fav excuse but c'mon. Be. So. Fr. He just doesn't want Charles to think of him differently.

There are days where Edwin hops off to the library or something and gets lost in books for days, it's not new. Ghosts have shit perception of time. So when Edwin disappears to the "library", Charles thinks nothing of it. He just goes to do some of his own shit -- concert, ghost cricket, idk -- and very impatiently waits for Edwin to be done. (They have a deal that he can come drag Edwin away after the 48 hour mark if he's not home by then.)

Another thing is, Edwin hasn't explicitly stated what day he died, so Charles has no idea. It doesn't occur to him that he's never seen Edwin's death anniversary till he's telling Crystal they'll be closed in a week for his, and she asks when Edwin's is.

And he just. Doesn't know.

So Crystal ushers him through her vanity because god forbid these boys have self initiated confrontation. And now Edwin is being cornered and he reluctantly reveals what he's been doing. Aka lying and spending his most vulnerable days in an abandoned garden or something. Charles is fucking Gobsmacked™️ and they talk, etc.

Anyways, Edwin's death anniversary is a month or two away from Charles' so they wait, both anxious as hell but Charles is being Charles and coping by helping Edwin instead.💀💀 (Edwin confronts him because PUT THEM BOTH ON BLAST‼️‼️🗣️🗣️)

On the day, Edwin's form changes little by little. Rubbed in rashes around his wrists and the corners of his lips, paler, sunken eyes, and bursted blood vessels looking like freckles. Charles spends the whole night reassuring Edwin and layering him in love and I'm such a sucker for love confessions so you KNOW they gotta have a moment like:

"I'm proper gone on you, aren't I?" Charles whispers into Edwin's hairline, sounding utterly smitten.

"Even like this?" Edwin asks. Equally quiet and wholly insecure, something Charles will spend the rest of his afterlife rectifying the same way Edwin has for him.

"Especially like this."

[dervampireprince]

taking care of astarion after cazador's death no smut, just comfort /// gender-neutral reader/tav

after cazador's deminse, after the spawn leave, once it's just you and your companions again, astarion doesn't speak. it's as if he's in a daze. you're torn between giving him space and leaving him on his own, and wondering if he really needs to not be alone right now.

he's still covered in blood, you'd given him a shirt he pulled on over his head, the grime on his skin soaked through and left it sticking to his skin, it was over his face, in his hair. he didn't make any move to wipe any of it away.

the trek out of the castle, out of the dark, seemed so long. you wondered how he was still standing, how he was dragging his legs. you stay by his side, but did not touch him, you make no move to grab his hand, to sooth him. you hoped walking at his side, matching his pace, conveyed enough. you were here. and you weren't going to touch him until he said it was alright.

you only had one plan you cared about when you finally reached the inn. the others talked amongst themselves, one by one their eyes lingering on astarion, apologising, telling him he did the right thing, that they were proud of him. you watched them start to retreat up to their rooms as you spoke with innkeeper.

once done with your conversation, key in hand, astarion still stood at the foot of the stairs.

"were you waiting for me?" you asked. he opened his mouth to speak, his eyes drifted down, he paused. "i want to take you somewhere. and i know you're tired, i promise it's to help you rest."

he nodded, still mute, you reached out to take his hand, stopped yourself, and instead beckon him to follow you.

you wound through the inn, existing out into a small garden, and entering the building on the other side, guiding astarion through the main door and down the corridors until you found the door that fits the key the innkeeper gave you.

inside was a small, private bath, sunken into the ground like a hot spring. it's nothing that fancy, but it's quiet, and fits it's purpose. you press the key into his hand, carefully.

"i can leave, if you'd like. and you can take all the time you need... or, if you'd rather, i can stay and help you wash. and that's all we'll be doing. i'd be touching you, but it wouldn't be sexual. and if you're not comfortable with that, it's okay," you twisted your head to try and catch his gaze. "would you like me to stay or go? i won't be offended or upset, the choice is yours, and if you'd rather i go i'll be waiting for you upstairs."

he still didn't speak, you wondered if his screams and cries earlier have made his voice hoarse, or if he just can't bring himself too. your hand hovered by his cheek, not touching, but trying to guide his head to turn towards yours, and when he finally does there's wetness in his eyes, the blood high on his cheekbones becoming smudged.

"would you like me to stay?"

his teeth sank into his lip, if they drew blood you'd be unable to tell. he nodded his head.

"would you like to undress yourself, or do you want me to help?"

you saw him shudder, and he stepped back and as he started to remove his clothes you did the same with yours. you wade into the bath, sinking down and sigh as the water washes over your tired muscles.

you turned, and reached out a hand towards him. he took it.

he's silent as you reached into the small basket at the side of the bath, lathering soap in your hands and getting to work, starting with his hands, kneading around his nails, up his arms, his torso, his face.

he's silent as you nudged him to move, knelt up behind him, asked him to tilt his head back, poured water over his head, felt him start to relax as he closed his eyes, running your hands through his hair, feeling as though it's the most intimate action you've ever done with him, despite the multiple nights of passion.

he's still silent when you exited the baths, annoyed that you can't just roll under clean sheets but have to redress yourselves, as you hesitated to follow him into your room, ready to bunk with one of the others, but he took your hand, and then you're both silent as you undress again, crawl under the sheets, letting him reach for you this time, now that he's ready, taking him in your arms, cradling his head to your chest, fingers playing with his hair.

you don't imagine the soft "thank you" that fell from his lips as you both drifted off to sleep.

[b14augrana]

Kiss of Strife

Football has always been your safe haven, but your home life gradually starts to manifest in different ways away from home, which doesn’t go unnoticed by your captain

Alexia Putellas x teen!reader

masterlist

Warnings: this story contains depictions of family issues associated with emotional unavailability and forms of abuse. read at your own discretion

A/N: an alexia x teen!reader angst fic was requested so here it is!! i decided this will be multiple parts as well so i hope you enjoy this chapter and the rest of this little series

(i wrote this pretty late at night and it isnt proofread so please excuse any mistakes regarding the tense, grammar etcetc)

Everything is perfect.

You’re scoring goals for your club and bagging assists. Your name is no longer a strange string of consonants and vowels but a recognisable word within the community of Cataluña, and it is only because of an ambition you dedicated the rest of your life to pursuing.

That’s just in the face of football though.

At home, there is a drought. The four walls of a family house are meant to behave like a dam which stores love and affection in the place of water, but your house is devoid of that.

Your house fosters a bitterness that doesn’t go hand in hand with anything along the lines of love and affection. The drawings on the fridge, created by a 5-year-old you, have faded over time, the ink being nothing more than splotches in some areas — a testament to the lack of care and attention your efforts received.

Relationships are barely surviving on simple greetings and empty ‘I love yous’. You crave something that is dangerous to want, but in your heart burns a desire to get the hell out.

Your lullaby is the faint yelling from the living room as you shut your eyes and focus on the gradually increasing volume of both voices, contradicting each other and trying to stab each other with no blade.

Your little sister crawls into your bed, her body flush against yours, another little arm wrapped around hers. Beneath your covers, there is warmth. Beneath your grip, there is safety.

During the school holidays, a child is supposed to savour every waking moment they spend at home and appreciate every day of it. You find yourself asking God why that isn’t the case, as you walk to practise with your sister’s hand in yours.

She sits on the sidelines picking grass as you train with your teammates, dreading the inevitable passing of minutes as you practise skill after skill. When you retreat to the bench for a quick water break, she runs up to you, bunches of chamomiles clutched in her hands that she begs to insert between the weaving of your braid.

From the day of your first training with the team, Alexia was drawn to you. She blamed it on her captain instincts, seeing as you’re the youngest on the team and therefore has the most potential, but now it’s gone beyond her captaincy. She’s known you for months, almost a full year now. She isn’t just your captain anymore.

She isn’t aware of the reality of your home life beyond the telltale signs such as the slightly sunken skin below your eyes or the bruises that taint your skin and are allegedly caused by your ‘clumsiness’. She knows there is something more to the extra effort you constantly put into training and games — she doesn’t know yet that it’s the pent up anger, sadness and fear manifesting in more productive forms.

You pour your heart and soul into the movement of the ball, in hopes that you can pursue your dreams of running away from what is restricting you from pursuing even greater dreams, an actual dream.

School starts back up for your sister. Things have been looking up for you, a huge burden off your shoulders. The house hasn’t shaken with another argument for a while and for once you get to know what silence is while you sleep, really sleep.

With every passing day, you find your memories with your father to resemble a garden; you can’t have a garden without flowers, just like how you can’t have memories of him without doing anything with him. When you were young, your garden was comparable to a rainforest, a new species in every corner, a kaleidoscope of beauty..

Until there was no more new species to plant and nurture, and the ones that already existed were getting neglected because all that you receive when you look at them are sour memories of what once was — the gardener you used to be, how rich the soil was, how steadily the flowers grew and how proud you were of your garden.

Your garden is dead now. It has gotten to the point where he doesn’t care about planting new flowers or watering the plants that already exist, leaving them to die of thirst. He’s absent and his emotional unavailability killed your flowers.

The little girl in you that wanted nothing else but love from her parents, loved that garden with her whole heart. She would’ve done anything she could to plant one more flower, she would’ve used the last drop of water in a drought to water her plants.

Alexia noticed something different about you today. The way you bounced around rather than the usual trudge… you had actual, sleep-induced energy.

Your sister also isn't with you. Alexia later asks you about it while you two are getting water and she learns that your sister is at school, and there is a smile on your face that she didn’t even realise had been absent for days until she saw it again.

Alexia has always been nice to you. The others treat you like a teammate, but she treats you like a friend. It feels like a special privilege, knowing ‘La Reina’ personally. She’s obviously a pillar in women’s football but to you, she’s much more.

She harbours a soft spot for you in her heart that becomes evident when she asks you if you need a ride home, and who are you to turn down such an offer when the ache in your legs is close to becoming unbearable?

“You’re talented, chica,” the woman says as you slink into the passenger seat of her car. “I haven’t had the chance to say it, but there hasn’t been a player like you for quite a bit.”

Her praise is so much more than just a couple of words from your captain. Though you smile and say a shy thank you, your heart races because you’ve just been called talented by one of the best players in the world, and there is no feeling greater than that. It gives you a tiny sliver of hope for a brighter future than what you’re already living, and for a moment, escaping your four walls seems possible.

The joy you experienced during the whole car ride is short lived once her car pulls into your driveway. Perhaps she can see the way your expression drops and your demeanour falls, because her hand finds your shoulder and squeezes it in a way that comforts you. “Do you want me to walk you to the door?” she asks, and though you really wish she could, you shake your head for the better.

There’s a slight frown on her face before she nods and drops her hand. You think about the possibility of her knowing that there’s something going on behind the closed doors of your home, and a big part of you hopes so, but no words besides a ‘gracías’ and ‘adios’ manage to find their way out of your mouth despite the pleas for help and support bubbling in your throat as you shut the door of her car.

When you reach the patio, the door opens to bombard you with the raucous of an argument happening around the corner of the hallway.

Your limbs are barely functioning and your eyes are struggling to stay open which is an obvious sign of the exhaustion soaring through your body, hence why you skip right past seeing your parents and beeline towards your sister’s room.

For as long as you can remember, arguments have been a consistent part of evenings spent in your household. Sometimes violence finds itself becoming the last resort, leaving you stuck to bear the brunt of a heavy hand. It’s what happens when two sides of the same coin try to work out — two negatives can’t make a positive, it’s impossible for them to get along and there is never a last word. That’s the unfortunate reality of your parents’ relationship.

You sink into the soft mattress of your sister’s bed and beckon her from the desk to lay beside you. She flips her paper over and abandons the seat to run over to you, her little body falling into your embrace. When she asks you what they’re talking about this time, you tell your sister that they’re just having a little disagreement, and if she sleeps it off, it’ll go away. It’s a promise, you say, before you proceed to tell her all about your training and your teammates. It’s her favourite thing, and she says it’s better than a bedtime story.

In no time, little exhales slip past her mouth as her eyes flutter shut, and you roll her off your body, tucking her into the butterfly printed duvet. With tentative steps across the hardwood, you find yourself at her desk and your fingers ghost over the piece of paper as you squint to read it in the dimness of her nightlight.

‘Mi papá hermana guapa

My sister is strong. She plays fútbol and she is good at it. My sister takes care of me and takes me to her pracktise, I like going with my sister. She helps me sleep and when I am with my sister, I am not scared. I am proud of m–…’

And the rest trails off. The body remains incomplete, but there’s one last sentence at the bottom of the page.

‘Amo a mi hermana.’

You place it back on her desk as you fail to combat the tears flooding your waterline. ‘She must’ve been instructed to write a poem by her teacher… for Father’s Day’, you think to yourself. Turning away so you don’t ruin her writing with your tears, you wiped them with the back of your Barça jacket sleeve and flipped the page around before making a dead silent exit. The house was completely still beside the low noise of talking from the TV and light snoring.

Your tears are not because of happiness. No, they stream down your face because it’s then that you realise something, and it opens up a whole new portal of questions.

As the streak of silence is broken and you’re forced to fall asleep to the low humming noise from the living room and a restless mind, you wonder what twisted realm of anger and bitterness your father lives in that forbids him from showing the smallest signs of love to his kids.

But, you already know the answer to that question, deep down. Instead, you wonder if you’ll see Alexia tomorrow, stretching in her usual spot, and you wonder if she’ll look up and smile at you again and invite you over.

You hope that’s what will happen. You pray for it.

[yanderefarm]

Now I need us “pretending” to forget about Emil, only to actully forget about it him.

Like, as a punishment we lock him in the basement and forget about him as a joke, send a maid down there once a day to feed him, but then we genuinely forget about with him, because we didn’t realize how much work Emil does.

He gets feed once a day from a maid, but that’s the only interaction he has. (Need some more angst before it gets fluffy🙏🙏)

part 3 of this & 2

i don't know why i love this series so much i want to break emil so bad. i have so much fun writing pathetic emil whump.

cw;; domestic abuse, drugging, unsanitary, manipulation, dehumanization

things had been relatively peaceful since starting the divorce process. a process you had paid the information guild to purposely obstruct and delay while also leaking all the information about. at this point you met the guild master more than your own husband, in spite of emil's attempts. every day you would wake up to find some kind of expensive gift and your maids would inform you that emil was there to see you, to which you would dismiss both. but emil kept trying.

he wasn't even being drugged anymore but the effects had clearly taken their toll on his mind. according to the servants of the main house he wasn't doing his work, he would spend all his time wandering or sitting like he was the living dead, and they even heard him crying. your name and even mention of the queen title had been all but banned by his advisors in an attempt to get him to pull himself together. he wasn't.

the first time you saw him in 6 months was shortly after a meeting with the guild master discussing your next steps to take over the kingdom. you had decided with everything squared away you would go out for a walk by the fountain.

the moon was the only light on the usually vibrant garden, casting it in a somber darkness. the air was cold and heavy with the chilling change of seasons on the horizon so you were wrapped in a shawl. it was the perfect night to find him. your husband was standing on the bridge overlooking the fountain, he was staring down into the water longingly. you could see from his reflection in the water his eyes were sunken and there were bags under them, his hair was messy and uncombed, and he was paler than normal. he looked sickly and the cold blank look in his eyes didn't help.

he didn't even seem to notice as you approached when usually he would be on high alert or draw his sword. or he did notice.

"if you're going to kill me please make it quick." he must have thought you were some kind of assassin but more notably his voice was so soft and weak unlike anything you'd ever heard from him.

"i have no intention of killing you." your voice made his head shoot up with all the speed his weakened state could allow.

fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. "(y/n)..? are you... real..?"

he stumbled towards you his feet struggling to carry him. you reached out and caught his surprisingly light body.

"you're re-"

"what's wrong with you? do you think dying will make things better?"

he flinched and his head fell to the ground.

"i thought you would break eventually and just admit you were wrong. but you'd rather die, hm?"

"i- you- i tried-"

"i don't want your excuses, emil."

he swallowed hard as tears began falling freely from his eyes. he opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. you couldn't help but take some kind of pity on the poor man, your hand running under his chin and forcing him to look back at your face.

"you're so pathetic... this is what the terrible tyrant becomes?"

you ran your thumb along his bottom lip before you leaned in close enough to feel his ragged breath against your lips.

"give up your pathetic life. give everything to me. everything ends when you give it to me."

he tried to lean forward enough to catch your lips but you kept out of his reach. instead of letting him kiss you, you pulled away from him completely. you stood up straight and pulled your arms away from his body causing the pathetic man to drop onto his knees. his body hit the cobble like you'd dropped a corpse but you decided not to care, choosing to turn away instead.

you started to walk away when you heard scratching and clawing at the stone under your feet.

"-ing please. please!" his voice clearly strained to try get your attention.

you stopped in your tracks waiting for him to speak but instead you heard more clawing and shuffling. eventually you felt his head bump into your leg like a cat greeting its owner. his bloody hands grabbed your leg and he held onto you as tight as he could while rubbing his head against your leg.

"emil. let me go."

"please take it... please take everything..."

"let me go."

"you want everything its yours. please."

"emil."

you finally dared to look down at him. he was so pathetic, his tears and blood were staining your pants. you let out a heavy sigh and reached down, your hand running through his tangled mess of hair.

"if you mean that then tomorrow concede your kingdom to me."

his peachy pink eyes looked up at you.

"do you understand?"

he nodded.

"then let go. you're getting me dirty."

he hesitated but he slowly let go of your leg.

———

of course your husband came through. he did as you ordered him, meaning you ascended to the title of king ahead of your schedule. while it certainly had its benefits it did leave a few things unfinished specifically on the guild master's end. so after everything settled into place you used your new found power to help staple in the final touches.

your husband who had been so happy to have you next to him again the past few months had to resume the drugs just so your hard work wouldn't completely slip away. he was still walking around like a corpse just a better maintained one. but no one seemed to have the time to pay much mind in the chaos of making you king. no one had the time to wonder where he went near the end of the chaos as you took over. and it was only when it was too late did his advisors even notice he wasn't anywhere to be found in the castle. you had to reassure them that he was currently tucked away from the public receiving the utmost medical care for his poor condition.

you ran a hand through your hair as you descended the dungeon steps, you were currently complaining to your maid about all the tedious parts of your job. there was an undeniable smile on your face though, the pride of having the most powerful kingdom in your hands made even the tedium valuable. your smile only widened twisting into a sick smirk as your torch caught onto the dirty form of your caged husband. he was on his knees clinging to the bars of his cell with tearful dead eyes.

"how long has it been, emil...?"

you walked over and crouched in front of him, he immediately went to push his head against your hand.

"your highness it's been 6 months since your last visit." your maid hung the torch nearby.

"really...? it's been over a year since i started this..."

your maid set about preparing emil's food while you pet him gently.

"i didn't mean to forget you down here."

the poor man didn't even seem to realize as he rubbed his head against your hand.

"oh emil... to think it only took a little over a year to break the mad king. to take everything away from you. to trap you in a little cage like you did my family."

the maid returned with some fresh water and a bowl of porridge. you pulled away from emil as she gave him his food. you watched his pathetic eyes look up at you desperately and you cocked your head to the side.

"your highness he's asking permission to eat."

your eyes lit up as you looked over at your maid. "oh my goodness!! you're incredible! i remember telling you i wanted to train him but to think you really went the extra mile..."

"thank you, sir. it's an absolute honor to break the man who destroyed my home."

your smile didn't fade as you looked down at the pleading former tyrant. "go ahead. but you can't use your hands."

emil hesitated before he finally shoved his face down into the bowl, eating like a pig with slop. it was a disgusting but amusing site, you and your maid had a good laugh at his expense.

once he was done you decided to give him a reward for good behavior. you crouched down in front of him and gently cleaned the mess off his face with a warm wash cloth. it was the closest thing he'd had to a real bath in the past 6 months. he was sobbing as he leaned into your hands.

it didn't last as long as he'd liked and you pulled away again.

"continue training him. id like to parade him around eventually so we should work with that goal in mind."

"you'll have his complete obedience. he won't even think to breathe without your permission."

"wonderful." you ran a hand down through his tangled mess of hair. "... I'll give you a budget so you can properly turn this area into the perfect training facility and our private friend can help you with the details."

"i look forward to it, your highness."

"i do too. when we're done with you you'll finally tell me you love me. you'll thank me for all of this, emi."

all you got was a whimper in response. you left your precious husband down in the dungeon, a forgotten and disgraced king.

[ashprince-of-bel-air]

Little Dove: Part 5

I'm trying to work up properly to some smut because we all know secretly that's where this story is going. I just want to have some fun writing first haha

Part Four , Part Six

The current gossip amongst the Roman population was of a young middle class woman with whom the Emperor had become so infatuated with, so much so that he broke societal protacall to protect her, her beauty so great he insulted one of the highest ranking families in the senate.

The days that followed that particular banquet were a blur to you, only truly remembering that night, ever so clearly in your mind. After Caracalla threw Marcus to he floor and claimed you as his you were not allowed to leave his side, his hand never left your waist, feeling the soft strokes of his thumb on your hip through your sheer gown. The senators stared but in intrigue, you were indeed beautiful but why would the Emperor claim you publicly and not just make you a concubine? Your father was furious at first, watching you struggle against Marcus, thinking that his entire life's work would be erased due to a disobedient daughter. That was until he saw you with the emperor, he knew he could use this to gain favour and climb higher than he had ever dare dreamed before.

Your father's villa had become your prison these past few days, word having spread of who you were. The first time you went into the market you were joined by men and women alike, trying to grant you gifts to gain your favour. After that visit your father put a stop to your wandering, he wanted you where he could see you, to make sure you remained untouched and unspoilt for the emperor as he made his secret preparations to ship you off to the palace.

The villa's garden and pool is where you now spent your time, tending to the flowers and swirling petals in the cool sunken pool, day dreaming the days away now that you could not leave the house. It was a shock when the palace guards came for you, ushering you away from the villa and into the royal carriage once again. You tried to call out to your father and understand what was happening, only briefly did he approach you, to kiss your forehead and utter a single sentence. "Make the Emperor happy." His smile was sinister and calculated as you were pulled away, watching him fade into the distance.

After being placed into the carriage you were treat comfortably, offered fine wine and food. It did not take long for you to figure out what was happening, your father was shipping you away to the Emperor, at who's request you were unsure, your father was not a man to pass up an opportunity when he saw one, and you had become a prize opportunity for him to scale the ladder of the senate. Senators were now taking notice of the father of the girl whom the Emperor had claimed for his own, and he would take advantage of this.

The palace was quiet when you finally arrived, the opulence of the banquets you had attended were no longer present, yet it did not make it looks any less regal. You witnessed as servants carried trunks full of your belongings to what would become your new home, a room that rivaled even the size of your father's villa. It was stocked with finery and a library of tomes you could not wait to devour, you had never imagined to experience such luxury in your life.

As you settled into your new home, taking in the giant bed, silk sheets and plush duck feather pillows you were overwhelmed, this was more than you could imagine. Caracalla stood at the doorway watching you, entranced by your beauty and the wonder you displayed in the room he chose for you, happy that you seemed so enraptured with everything in it. He walked over to you with a smirk as your back was towards him, looking through all the old tomes you could now read to yourself.

A small surprised yelp escaped your mouth as you felt his hands on your hips and his lips against your neck, pulling you towards his body once again, another blush forming on your cheeks as you felt his body press against yours once more. Caracalla's words were like silk upon your neck, his lips gently tracing over your skin as he spoke. "I trust everything is to your liking Little Dove, I had the room specially made for you" His lips found their way up your neck slowly, you arched your neck involuntarily so that you could feel more of his affection.

"You honour me, My Emperor" Your voice was barely a whisper, breathless by Caracalla's actions, yet you persisted, not wanting to be rude to your new provider. You felt him chuckle against your skin, kissing your neck and smiling once more before saying a phrase you would forever commit to memory, one that almost brought you to your knees.

"Although I may be Emperor, you will be my Goddess, and I aim to revere you as such." That phrase took your breath away, the silent moan that reverberated in your chest made Caracalla chuckle once again, his hands squeezing your hips affectionately now.

Caracalla's hands nudged your waist, encouraging you to turn and face him now, wanting to speak to you and look deep into your eyes. He lifted your chin so you could face him properly once again, he found it ever so endearing that you were this shy in front of him, yet so bold Infront of the old senators, loving how you could be so feisty yet so demure at the same time, such a mystery. "Not tonight though my Dove, I want you to be settled. You are to become mine and I want you to be happy here first" His lips were soft upon your own this time, not like at the banquet, this time your heart fluttered, eager to know more of him and learn more of his body.

Caracalla bid you goodbye for now, allowing you to acquaint yourself with your new home, taking in all the opulence before you. As you saw him leave it made your heart sink, you knew he had official business to attend to but you wanted him with you, day dreaming once again about your next encounter.

[mistressmxggot]

Chapter 5- ✰ When I Picture You ✰

"𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗵𝗮𝗱 𝗯𝗲𝗲𝗻 𝘄𝗿𝗼𝗻𝗴. 𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲𝗻'𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗽𝘂𝗿𝗴𝗮𝘁𝗼𝗿𝘆, 𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝗻 𝗛𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗶𝘁 𝗱𝗲𝗳𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗹𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗹𝗱 𝗴𝗲𝘁 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝘀𝗲."

Tags: Physical assault, imprisonment, manipulation

~The next day started that same as yesterday, you were scared, angry, and frustrated. Staying in bed for a while seemed like a good idea. You didn't want to get up, and you didnt want to face her.

The sound of knocking felt like a boulder hitting you in the head.

"What."

Quiet followed. The door peeked open, a woman's head poking in. She opened the door wider, slowly creeping into the room.

"Ms Medarda has sent me to assist you."

If you never had to hear that goddamn name again, you'd be beyond happy and content. The woman's steps grew closer,  her face coming into view. She was cute, a pair of square glasses sat on her button nose with a head of short, brown curls surrounding her round face. She smiled, placing a glass of water on the drawer to the right of you. You reluctantly sat up.

"When you have finished your breakfast, I will show you around."

You eyed her. What was Ambessa's angle with this girl? There was always something with her. She seemed nice enough.

"What's your name?"

She smiled. "My name is Vivian, but you may call me Viv."

You returned the smile and got out of bed.

"I will leave you to any private buisness. Please find me outside when you are finished."

With that she left the room, gently closing the door. Leaving this room felt like walking into another dimension. Out there, you were always on edge, waiting for Ambessa's next move. You were hungry, and you couldn't hide in here forever.

After finishing your hygiene and getting dressed, you met Vivian outside your door. On the walk to the dining room, you were constantly searching for Ambessa. Thank goodness she was elsewhere.

Vivian happily ate breakfast with you. She was good company, and she wasn't terrifying like Ambessa and Rictus were. When you both finished breakfast, she dragged you through the entire place. You saw Ambessa once, speaking to some person of importance. She gave you one glance, and nothing else.

The place was beautiful, but huge. You had to have seen ever item in existence in this place. You saw the throne room, the training area, multiple living areas and a dancing area with multiple poles. Had she made that for you? You wondered. There were only a couple rooms you couldn't go in. Her offices and two locked rooms. You didn't want to know what was behind those doors. It was none of your buisness, and you wanted to keep it that way. The library was by far your favorite. There were more books than any person needed, rows and rows of multiple genres. Lounge areas sat in different parts of the room. It seemed bigger than the entire Last Drop, maybe two of it combined. It was a brown room, sunken in and cozy. Reading every book possible in this room was the goal. The library was definitely the best room in the house.

A pause for lunch and more discovery before dinner. You saw her gardens, a large backyard that seemed to go for miles. Plants and flowers of every kind and of course multiple servants tending to them. The entire structure reflected Ms Medarda.

She was there at dinner with you. It passed by silent, and then she was gone again. You had fallen asleep that night thinking about her. You were always thinking about her.

This place wasn't too bad. You came to the library often, always getting caught in books. You read books about dragons and ways of war. You read classics and dramas. Viv was fun to be around. She was nice and a person of comfort. There was still a disconnect. There seemed to be alot of things she couldn't tell you. You understood, she was still Ambessa's servant.

You only saw Ambessa during dinner, which was usually silent. You had spoken a couple times. She would ask you if you were alright and if you were going to paint anytime soon. She actually genuinely seemed interested. Days passed, but night was always spent thinking. When night time came around, you had time to think about alot, unfortunately. She didn't force you to do anything you didn't want to do. She just...kept you. It confused you. What did she want?

You had heard noises coming from her room tonight. Surprisingly, these were the first noises you heard this past week and a half. You'd thought that she would be fucking like a rabbit. Covering your head with the pillow, you tried not to make out any words or sounds coming from the other room. She was so nasty. The warmth around around your head soon soothed you to sleep.

You woke up the next day, once again a glass of water left for you. You were annoyed today, not exactly sure why. Everything tipped off your attitude and you especially didn't want to see Ambessa. Viv was the only thing that calmed you down. She told you that Ambessa wanted you to buy something for yourself. You initially scoffed, but you wanted to get supplies for painting. She gave you some money and the two of you went to the town.

The town was nice. People were friendly, but your mind was elsewhere. All you seemed to think about was Ambessa. It didn't matter how many times Viv pulled you out of your thoughts to focus on something else. Your mind always drifted back to her.

The two of you returned a little before dinner. You passed Ambessa on the way to your room.

"What did you purchase?"

You looked up at her. "Just some art supplies."

"Is that all? No clothing or a personal item for you?"

"I didnt want to spend it all. I mean it was alot of money."

She let out a laugh.

"I suppose."

With a smile and a hm, she left you. That annoyed you. She was annoying. What did she mean I suppose? Was that not alot of money? You were just relieved she had gone. Her presence took so much energy from you.

You knew you had to talk to her and figure something out. Maybe you could offer her something. You needed to find a way home.

With a frustrated sigh, you returned to your room. Curled into the fetal position, you lay in your bed. Thoughts wandered to places you didn't want them too. You couldn't exactly figure out if you missed the brothel. You should miss it. You should miss Malik. You shouldn't be enjoying the things she gave to you. She was infuriating and so intelligent and intoxicating.

Stop it.

She was terrible and you hated her. You didn't.

This was purgatory. You wanted to hate her. You should. You should hate her and everything here. To be fair, life at the brothel wasn't great. Malik was...Malik. Zaun was your home. You assumed that's were you belonged. It didn't matter you had to sell your body and deal with Malik's abuse. Zaun was your home. Zaun was your-

"Supper is ready."

You heard Vivian's voice. A grimace crossed your face.

"Not hungry."

Vivian uncomfortably shifted on her feet. "Please. Ms Medarda awaits you."

You growled at her. "Viv.. Seriously please go away."

The door softly shut, leaving you alone again. You forced your mind to drift elsewhere. Maybe you should just leave, Malik would have to understand. Your eyes began to get heavy. They shot back open when you heard those heavy footsteps approaching your room. There was no knocking, you heard her just bust through the door. Anxiety covered your body.

"Why are you refusing to eat?"

You stayed under the covers.

"Not hungry."

She sighed loudly. "Come eat supper."

"I said I'm not hungry. Get out."

Her footsteps approached the bed. You quickly pulled the blanket off, shooting out of bed.

"Get away from me!"

She gave you a confused but stern look.

"You will eat. Address your feelings later."

Your eyebrows knotted in anger. She was beyond infuriating.

"I don't want to eat. I want to go home. Ask Malik to come get me or take me back. Something. Anything!"

She kept watching you. With wide strides, she approached. You backed up, hitting the drawer behind you. She grabbed you arm, pulling you aggressively towards her.

"What are you doing?!"

The pad of her thumb ran over the faded bruises on your arm. She sighed.

"Everything I have given you.." Her eyes met yours. "Everything I could give you, yet you still want to return to him."

Shame sat deep in you. "You don't know anything about me!" You yelled back at her, snatching your arm out of her grip. She let you.

Before you could think, your stomach and face were pressed into the bed. Ambessa bend her hard body over yours, forcing you further into the soft blankets. Her left hand pushed on your nape, her right binding yours behind your back. She leaned her head down to yours, lips brushing against your ear. Your face stuck to the furs, sweat clinging to your skin. Her hand started at the base of your scalp, working it's way down your spine. You shivered, cowering further into the bed. Ambessa tutted, letting out an exaggerated sigh.

"I think I know what your feeling. I am feeling it too. I know what you want, as do you."

You struggled under her hold, face red. "What are you talking about?! Get off of me!"

Your entire body was on edge, breath picking up. This was awful, your body responding in ways you didn't want it to.

"Get off! Get off!"

She pulled back. You layed there, your wet face still buried in the blankets.

"Come eat. I won't tell you again."

She began to make her way towards the door. You stood up. You were so angry, your entire body hot. You couldn't think. You weren't thinking. There was a half full glass of water still on the dresser.

Don't do this.

You grabbed the glass of water, launching it at her back. You had only realized what you had done when you heard the sharp shatter of the glass hitting the floor.

This was it. You were done. You thought about Malik and the brothel. About Viv and that amazing salad you had the first week. You thought about your father, God rest him. You thought about your apartment and that stray cat you saved from starving.

She would surely kill you for this. Would she give you a proper burial? Or would she throw your cold body into a ditch for wolves to eat at you? Your mouth became dry as you watched her slowly turn. First she had a blank face. Shock? Disbelief? You couldn't tell. Anger lit up in her eyes and you think you peed a little bit.

"I'm so sorry I didn't- I wasn't-"

She made her way towards you, faster than you wanted her to.

"Please I-"

Her hand grabbed your neck, the other pulling at you hair. You screamed, trying to kick and push away from her. She dragged you through the hallway.

"Rictus open the door!"

You panted, watching as she dragged you towards one of the forbidden doors. Oh god.  Rictus followed, holding a pair of keys. He opened the door, a long dark staircase waiting for you. You didn't want to know what was down there. She pulled you down the stairs. The blood drained out of your face. There, in a long hallway, were multiple cells. Rictus unlocked one, opening the door for Ambessa. She threw you in, your body sliding across the floor. She entered and grabbed your hair again, bringing her face close you yours.

"Perhaps I've been to lenient with you girl. So ungrateful. Should I just take what I want?"

You cried out. "Please no I'm sorry!"

She pushed your haed into the ground, standing up and swiftly leaving the cell. You heard the door slam shut and the sound of it locking you in. Her heavy footsteps dissapearing.

You lie there, tears burning your vision. Sobs echoed threw the cell. All the things she said ran through your head. She was wrong. She was just trying to manipulate you. She was wrong. Your sobs began to quiet, your eyes getting heavy. You were exhausted. Mentally and emotionally. Of course the cold, hard floor wasn't comfortable, but you were so tired. You didn't want to think about her anymore, you couldn't. You just wanted to sleep.

You were at the brothel. Her muscular body approached you, hips swaying seductively. Her lips were parted. Her heavy, lustful eyes never left yours.

"Show me."

Her thick voice rung in your ears. You obeyed, slowly slipping off your bra. She smiled, her eyes dropping to your breasts.

"So beautiful. Proceed."

You let out a weak whimper, slowly spreading your knees apart. Her eyes trailed down to your soaked cunt. Your white underwear now all see-through. She leaned down, running her large hands over your knees, then down your thighs. She gently pushed them together. You looked at her with pleading eyes. Ambessa slowly pulled down your underwear, tossing them to the side. Her breathing stopped as she spread your knees apart. Your entire face was red and hot, the warmth of her hands sending tingles to your groin. Your breath hitched in your throat. She leaned her head down, her eyes never leaving yours. You could feel wetness on your cheeks. This was more than you ever thought it would be. Her energy was too much, your body responding to ever part of her. You gasped as her gorgeous mouth met your cunt. She watched your head fall back. Her thick tongue petting your slit before sucking your clit into her mouth. You groaned loudly, thighs closing around her head. She didn't seem to mind. You could feel your orgasm climbing quickly, breath becoming sporadic. She sucked harder, moaning into your cunt. You moaned loudly, your climax taking over your entire body. She lifted her head, staring into your eyes. You two just looked at eachother for a while. Your face was wet and flush. "Come to me little lamb." You blinked at her.

Your eyes opened, back sore from the hard floor.

"Oh my god."

Your dream came back to you. Shame and regret bit at you. Looking down, you spread your thighs. Stickiness clung to your skin. You just had a wet fucking dream about Ambessa fucking Medarda after being thrown into a cold fucking jail cell. You had been wrong. You weren't in purgatory, you were in Hell and it definitely could get worse.~

You. Always. Masterlist

This chapter whooped my ass but it was fun to write 😭 Merry Christmas.

Lmk to be added.

Taglist: @maaaaaaaaaaari , @ivorydevil , @trizxyp , @ambessaswifey , @randomstuffthatdontmakesense , @simplyxwwww , @last-dropsevi

[little-diable]

DIABLE. I feel your lack of inspiration deep within my soul as I, too, have been struggling.

That being said, I'm back on my Cillian Murphy bullshit and would love to see some domestic Tommy, maybe after a really long day of blood and gore he comes home to a plush world of softness and love and consideration and he can turn it all off.

My darling, thank you for sending this in, it definitely inspired me! I hope you enjoy this little drabble. <3

Summary: Tommy will always do what his wife asks of him, especially when he needs a few calm moments himself.

Warnings: nothing, just nudity, full on fluff and fun

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x fem!reader (about 800 words)

Somewhat of a follow up Drabble

It was a mild August evening, a day that had been too hot for (y/n)’s liking which had passed all too slowly. Perhaps it had been the fault of all the running around she had done – whatever it was, the second the kids had been put to sleep, she had told their staff to leave for the night, desperate for a few hours of silence.

The second she had been left alone, (y/n) had hurried outside, shoes long forgotten as she dragged the old, ceramic tub through the garden. Sweat had pooled on her forehead, forming pearly drops that dripped down to the ground, but she had been determined, set on cooling off while watching the sunset.

She had run back and forth to fill the tub, arms and legs begging her to slow down and rest for a minute or two. But (y/n) hadn’t stopped moving until the tub had been filled to her liking. And with a satisfied grin glued to her lips, she had shuffled out of her dress, underwear following moments later.

Her squeals had echoed through the evening as she had sunken into the cold water, unable to stop her laughter from clawing through her. She had been grateful that nobody else was around, they surely would have called her a hysteric madwoman, calling the doctors on her for the childish glee the cold water had shot through her veins.

(Y/n) was too focused on the sunset to hear the call of her name, she was also too distracted to pick up on the confused expression tugging on Tommy’s features as he spotted her through the windows. With a cigarette between his lips, he slowly stepped outside, undoing the buttons of his jacket as he moved closer.

“What a nice view to come home to, eh?” She jerked in surprise as Tommy spoke up, forcing her wide eyes towards her grinning husband. Tommy’s gaze wandered down her throat, watching the water drops stick to her soft skin. The water was clear enough to expose every inch of her body, leaving Tommy groaning as he dipped his head down to kiss her. “Tell me, how did that tub end up right here?”

“Well, what do you think? I doubt the faeries miraculously carried it over here.” A deep rumble of laughter vibrated through Tommy, momentarily reminded of the stories he had read to their children the night prior, feeding their obsession with faeries and mystical creatures. “Will you just stand there or join me like a good husband would?”

Tommy watched her for another moment before he threw his cigarette to the ground and began to shrug out of his clothes, exposing his body inch by inch. (Y/n) pulled her knees to her chest to make room behind herself, grinning in excitement as he began to step into the tub.

“Fucking hell, do you want me to freeze my cock off?” His curses left her giggling, eyes sparkling with mischief. But Tommy kept on moving with curses rolling off his tongue, till he finally got into a seated position. He pulled her against his chest with a hum, pressing a kiss to her cold cheek. 

“How was your day?” (Y/n) murmured her words, eyes closed, head resting against Tommy’s shoulder. He interlaced his fingers with hers, letting his thumb run over the back of her hand with slow movements. 

“Exhausting, sometimes I wonder if I’m still made for this life. I’m getting old, eh?” She froze in his grasp, let her eyes shoot open and slowly turned towards him. Her eyes wandered over Tommy’s exhausted features, instantly able to pick up on the hurt flushing through him, the anger he couldn’t shake, and the greedy desperation he had never been able to feed well enough. 

(Y/n) cupped his cheek, she pressed a kiss to his lips before she began to speak up, “You’re anything but old, dear husband of mine. And trust me, if I’d feel like you’re getting old, I’d instantly sell you to the faeries.” 

Loud laughter rumbled through him, a sound so carefree, (y/n) hadn’t heard it in a long time. And with a widening grin stuck to her lips, (y/n) pressed another kiss to Tommy's lips, knowing that their evening together was just about to get exciting.

[snippychicke]

Poppy Seeds -- Part One

As you may have guessed, I fell into a new hyper fixation. Poppy's Playtime of all things. >.<

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

I know right now we have no idea who or what Ollie is, but I decided to go with the assumption he is just a kid and not the Prototype as some theorists are assuming. This will likely be debunked in chapter four, but I'm running with it until then.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

One: Home

Your hands gripped the steering wheel tight as your old truck climbed up the steep incline. It hadn't liked the rough road on a good day, let alone with Kissy and Dogday in the back trying to drag it down. Now it whined and complained, the wheels occasionally skidding on the gravel. Ollie clutched to Poppy tightly next to you, his sunken eyes wide with fear. Poppy, to her credit, looked confident that everything would be okay.

By the time you reached the cabin nestled high above the valley, it was close to midnight. It was a sizable two story home, complete with a barn, garage, and even a chicken coop. Thick forest surrounded the homestead, assuring complete privacy. A year ago your grandparents had moved into an assisted living community in town, leaving the whole place to you. The rest of the family had not been happy but in your defense you would come out every school break growing up to help them out.

And then, after you left Playtime Co, you had moved in under the guise of getting your life sorted out. Your grandparents never asked why it was taking you a decade to figure it out. Which you were glad, because you didn't know how you would have answered them.

Ollie’s fear eased into wonder as he looked at the flock of sheep you had in the pens up front. You were just thankful they were still there, looking rather healthy despite the fact you had been unexpectedly gone for a week or so.

When you had received the letter and VHS about the old Playtime Co you had interned 10 years ago while in college, you thought you would be gone for a few days at most considering it was a few hours away. You prepped your home as best as you could for being gone that long-- giving extra water and feed to the animals, setting the sprinklers for your garden on a timer-- but had little hopes of your own survival let alone that of your animals after being dragged deep into hell.

You didn’t bother with the detached garage, but pulled up right next to the porch. You were exhausted, and you could only imagine everyone else was as well. The truck seemed all too happy to shut off with a rough sound. You looked over at Ollie, who was still looking at everything in wonder, though Poppy was carefully extracting herself from his grip. “You okay there kiddo?”

He looked back at you, “This is where you live?” he asked instead, voice full of awe. “It looks like it's from a fairytale book!”

It really wasn't, it's a typical farm for this part of the country. Hardly one of the fanciest or beautiful, just simple and sturdy.

“Let's get inside and get settled for the night,” you offer instead of remarking. “I should have the stuff for some sandwiches at least.”

“Sand…witches?” Ollie repeated, sounding confused.

“Meat and bread,” Poppy answered, unbuckling the boy. “Sometimes with ketchup, mustard, mayo, cheese.”

“So, food? I like food!”

Your heart ached. You knew the boy had been raised in the factory, hidden away and protected from the Prototype or hungry ‘toys’. The fact he had was a miracle enough--especially considering how small and thin he was. He had to be ten at the youngest, but barely looked as if he was half that age.

The passenger door opened, which considering how much trouble Kissy had with her hands, was surprising. Yet the pink creature reached in and pulled both Ollie and Poppy out of the truck.

Dogday waited for you as you exited the truck, your legs shaky from the long ride. However, his attention wasn't on you but the dark sky above. It was a new moon, meaning the Milky Way arched overhead with dozens of stars. A glance over to Kissy and the others showed they too were amazed by the stars--you could hear Poppy trying to explain all of it to Ollie quietly.

“It's beautiful, isn't it?” You said as you stepped closer to Dogday.

“Yeah,” he whispered. “I-I’ve never seen the night sky like this.”

“Well, now you can see it every night,” you said, shouldering his arm lightly. “Best place for meteor showers too.”

Dogday tore his gaze away and looked down at you. “Are you sure we can stay here, angel?”

“Of course. As long as you want, even if it's forever.” Granted, you didn't know where else they would go, especially Dogday and Kissy. But you didn't want to assume anything either, or make them feel trapped.

His hand found yours, so giant compared to yours but soft and warm. “Forever it is then.”

You felt your cheeks warm against the chilly night air as you laughed self-consciously. “Right, you might wanna sleep on that kind of decision, ‘Day.”

Two: Sleep

You woke slowly, feeling warm and cozy. Something soft was surrounding you, with the faintest hint of vanilla. At first you thought maybe you were wrapped up in a thick blanket, but when you opened your eyes to matted brown fur you realized it was Dogday instead, his arms wrapped around you and holding you close as if you were the toy. You could feel him breathe softly, each inhale and exhale caressing your skin softly.

(You didn't want to think about the amalgamation of organic and inorganic parts inside of him. You saw enough when you helped attach his legs to leave you with nightmares.)

For once, Dogday looked relaxed. Dark eyes closed and his smile softened. You couldn’t resist running your fingers along his face. He had been one of the few you had instantly trusted in that hell. One of the few that never even seemed to think about harming you.

Poppy had used you for her own means, not giving you a real choice ever since you released her. Kissy Missy had always been kind but you had soon realized that her partnership with Poppy may have played a part in it. And of course there was Ollie, though it took a while for you to trust the faceless voice on the phone, especially after you learned that the Prototype could mimic voices and Ollie had a very… peculiar way of phrasing things.

Yet Dogday… he had raised his head, and saw you as someone special as soon as his gaze met yours. Begged you to leave him behind and to run when the miniature Critters started to swarm. Actively fought to defend and protect you despite missing the lower half of his body at first.

And ever since, had refused to leave your side. While everyone else did their part, he determinedly stuck with you. Even last night after everyone finished eating and all anyone could think about was sleep. Kissy happily cuddled Poppy and Ollie in her arms as she climbed up the stairs to claim a bedroom. You expected Dogday to follow suit…

“Hey, uh, angel?” Dogday said softly, sounding rather shy. He had stuck around to help you clean up, though all that consisted of was a few plates, cups, and butter knives. Though the number of sandwiches consumed had emptied out all the bread, lunchmeat, cheese, as well as peanut butter and jelly in your pantry.

“Yeah?” You were getting used to the nickname, though you still felt as if it was undeserved the way he said it. As if you truly were an angel from heaven, sent to save.

“... Could I sleep with you?”

His question surprised you, and you almost dropped the cup you had been washing. Thankfully he quickly grabbed it before it could fall very far. “Sleep…with me?”

Granted those last two… days? You weren't sure, but you and him had found safe spots to watch out for each other while the other slept. It was the only time during the whole ‘adventure’ you managed to sleep. Wrapped up in his arms, feeling him breathe, listening to his heartbeat. It reminded you weren't alone anymore.

“I… don't want to be alone,” he continued, drying off the cup and placing it on the shelf. “Even if I know you and the others are nearby, I…”

Your surprise shifted into sympathy and understanding. Kissy, Poppy, and Ollie were together… and now that you thought about it, being alone right now did not fill you with any sort of ease.

“Yeah. I mean, if you don't mind cuddling close. My bed is barely big enough for two normal-sized people, let alone one me and one… well, Dogday.”

His smile widened. “With you? Never.”

Dogday shifted in his sleep, turning his head to nuzzle into your hand before his eyes slowly opened. His smile widened slightly, and you heard more than saw his tail thump against the bed which in turn made you smile wider as well. “Morning,” you greeted softly.

“Good morning, angel,” he said just as softly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Best sleep in a long time,” you admitted with a slight laugh. Trying to sleep in the factory had been a scary experience. Finding small places to hide long enough to close your eyes. Waking and jumping at every little sound. Plagued by endless nightmares.

And you had been there for just a few days, a week at most.

“What about you?” you asked. Him and the others had lived in that hell for a decade. You didn't startle awake from him lashing out at nightmares. Which you had seen him do a few times before at the factory. You had held him in your laps as best you could, reassuring him he was okay as he broke down.

He leaned closer, nuzzling your cheek slightly. “Next to you, how could I not?”

You laughed between his flirty words and his fur tickling your skin. “You're such a flirt!”

Three: Morning After

“It's so bright outside!” Ollie gasped as he looked out the window while you worked on breakfast. Thankfully none of the eggs had spoiled, nor had any milk, meaning you were whipping up a full course of scrambled eggs and pancakes-- as well as cooking the few boxes of frozen sausages you had found in the freezer.

Dogday was currently watching them like a hawk, occasionally licking his lips as he moved them around in the skillet.

“Actually. That's cloudy. See how the sky is gray. Not blue?” Poppy pointed out, also gazing out the window. “On sunny days, it's a bright vibrant blue, and even brighter.”

“Really?” The boy looked up to you to confirm the doll's words, and you nodded your head. To think he had never seen the sky before. To be unable to tell a sunny day from a cloudy one.

“It actually looks like it could rain,” you pointed out. “Maybe we should hold off on a bath until after you have fun in the mud.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “I thought if you get caught in the rain, you'll get sick?”

“Psh, no. At least, not as long as you can dry off and warm up afterwards. It'll also give me time to look through stuff down in the basement. I think there should be some old hand me downs that should fit you.”

“A good bath can do wonders.” Poppy hopped down from the windowsill and into Kissy's hand before the giant monster also gently corralled Ollie to the table where the food was waiting. “It's been such a long time.”

“Er, excuse me for being intrusive…” you set down a towering plate of pancakes before sitting yourself. “But can you guys get wet?”

“We may not be flesh and bone anymore, but we can still enjoy a good shower,” Dogday answered as he set the plate of sausage links in front of you. “Or even a swim.”

“Why is the water white?” Ollie interrupted, looking oddly at the glass of milk Kissy poured in front of him. “I've never seen it that color before.”

“It’s milk,” Poppy answered. “You used to love it when you were a baby and we had access to some.”

Ollie sniffed suspiciously before taking a drink… and then nearly gulping the entire glass in one go. You took the opportunity of everyone chuckling at the boy to split the sausage between the others. Kissy noticed first and clapped excitedly, her mit-like hands muffling the sound.

“Angel,” Dogday sighed, though you weren't sure he was touched or exasperated. Or maybe both.

“Shh, I saw the way you were eyeing them. I can always buy more when I go to town.”

He was silent for a while before taking a bite of the sausage, savoring it unlike Kissy who had all but inhaled hers. Ollie was following Kissy’s example with the banquet of food, while Poppy was benign as dainty as could be, cutting everything into tiny bites, even for her smaller size.

You couldn’t help but savor your own food, feeling rather happy and optimistic about the future.

[justasecretflower]

Dating Gyutaro before he became a demon🤍

You look lost, visit my garden?

- You’re his reason for life, you and his younger sister.

- you met him while he was limping back to his house after he had went out because his mother had brought a customer over.

- his little sister was with him, ume.

- also, he tried running away at first..

· · ────── ꒰ঌ·✦·໒꒱ ────── · ·—————

I carefully walked slowly through the street, it was a chilly autumn night in the streets of Japan, the breeze swaying in between strands of my h/c hair, a quiet night, just me and the slight wind, snug kimono and contentment overflowing me. Suddenly, a man and a little girl appear before me, he looked around 20, with a girl attached to his hip. I took in the man and his sisters general appearance. The man was skin and bones, and wore a brown torn up kimono, his hair was black and scruffy, tied into a bun, and I was pretty sure I could smell him all 10 feet away. The little girl had white hair and also looked like she was deprived of food and water. A pang of hurt swelled up inside of me seeing they’re starvation so obvious with their sunken torsos and rib cages showing, a surge of compassion came right after as I gained the courage to speak up. “Hey, what’s your name? I’m y/n” I said softly, while tapping his bony shoulder. His head snaps towards me, his dull blue eyes blown out and red shot. I couldn’t even get a word in before he just..ran away.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

- it would take you a couple tries to get his trust, you gave him and his sister food, stitched up some of his torn clothes, a bunch of stuff.

- eventually, he let you in slowly, but just because it took him a long time to trust you, don’t think it took him a long time to fall in love with you..

- he fell first, and harder.

- he calls you his “sun-ray” while talking about you.

- when he goes to sleep he thinks about how much better you deserve while he tears up. You don’t need a burden like him, he was convinced.

- he feels like he shouldn’t even look at you, with him being so ugly, unclean, dirty.

- yet when you grab his cheeks and look into his eyes he just melts into your touch and hesitantly starts kissing your hands.

- he will bow down and kiss your feet no question if you ask ..

- when he sees you with ume he almost cries every time. Seeing his sister be so loved by some he so loves..

- his lips are chapped, so it’s not pleasant to kiss but he puts all of his love into his kisses you barely notice his chapped lips.

- he is forever grateful and SO in love with you.

- sometimes he just breaks down because he can’t pay for a proper wedding to marry you.

- his sister ADORES you. You guys brush each others hair, look at pretty kimonos together, it’s so fun :(.

- he’s always at your home despite feelings horrible about it. The first time he came over he didn’t move an inch from the front door for about 10 minutes because he kept saying he was too dirty to walk in your home.

- sometimes, he’ll lay his head on your thighs and just look at you with so much love you nearly pass out. He’s so in love with you it’s crazy, and it’s SO noticeable.

- his love language is words of affirmation. Please call him pretty even if he doesn’t believe it.

- he tells you how beautiful you are, how lucky he is to end up with you, how talented you are, almost daily.

- well, I hope nothing goes wrong :).

Demon slayer reqs open.

Tags

[enbysanavi]

RE:V lords and Mother Miranda with a ghoul reader

Alcina Dimitrescu

There was always something off about you.

You never seemed to tire after long hours of work at her castle, you never shied away from cleaning duty in the dungeon like the others and most importantly you seemed to never bleed.

As a vampire that was one of the first things she noticed about you but never thought to bring it up.

She noticed your lack of heartbeat and lack of smell that usually came with the maids.

Normally she would just leave it alone because you did your job well and did tasks that nobody else wanted to do.

One night when everything was winding down for the evening, she heard the sound of a window breaking.

Usually she would summon her daughters to deal with the intruder but due to it being a colder winter she opted to do it herself.

When she got down to the kitchen she was surprised to see that the intruder’s chest had caved in and his cheeks were sunken. It was like all the air was sucked out of him and he was left as a husk.

She was even more surprised to see you there with an expression similar to a child who got caught stealing cookies.

You had small almost see through horns poking out from your hair. Your skin had turned to a pale grey and you had claws.

“Well, this is a surprise turn of events but not an unexpected one.”

You two had a long chat about what exactly you were.

You explained that you were an air ghoul and escaped from hell to enjoy life on the mortal side of the earth.

She asked if you were happy with serving her and you said yes. After all you got fed human food, were surrounded by humans and got to be in the presence of other unearthly creatures.

You also said that you sucked the air from the intruder because he scared you when you were trying to get a midnight snack.

She sighs and realised that you may be just as much of a handful as her daughters

Karl Heisenberg

Heisenberg smelled smoke when he entered the factory. It wasn’t an uncommon smell but he smelled it more that usual.

When he found you sitting with some of his creations with your arm on fire and marshmallows dangling above the flame he does a double take.

“What. The. Fuck???”

He is so confused.

From what he knew you were just a normal human and yet you were roasting marshmallows off of a flame that covered your entire arm.

You wave at him before tossing a roasted marshmallow at his head.

He catches it and eats it

He shoes away his creations before sitting on a crate in front of you with a bewildered expression.

He asks for an explanation and you tell him your a fire ghoul but just wanna chill up on earth for a bit.

Bewilderment is replaced with excitement.

You bet he wants to figure out a way to combine his powers and yours for an ultimate power up.

Heisenberg is a man of many talents and one of those talents is causing mayhem against Mother Miranda.

“Just think: flaming metal! It would be great!”

You go along with it because of course! This man wants to cause chaos and what else are you supposed to do up on the surface?

Donna Beneviento

Angie had finally convinced Donna to hire a new gardener.

After the last gardener died she was hesitant to allow anyone else close to her again but the plants were growing too much and she could barely keep up.

You had been on the earth for a few months now and decided that staying close to your element would be the best plan so seeing that add for a gardener was a blessing.

When you first met Donna and Angie you were taken to their uniqueness and enjoyed working for the two.

Angie was seen around you more than Donna but that didn’t mean you couldn’t sense her.

She walked on the very ground that you started to tame and once the earth around her mansion was yours, nobody could sneak up on you.

Donna truely figured out something was different about you when you purposely stepped out of Donna’s way when she was supposed to be invisible to your eyes.

Donna kept a closer eye on you through her dolls. Often gifting you one in return for your hard work.

Through the eyes of her dolls was when she first saw you.

Your green skin and brown ram-like horns that curled around your face. The way that the ground moulded and changed to your will was terrifying and interesting to Donna.

She hesitantly started to show herself to your non-green and horned form whenever you would tend to the garden in front of her house.

The conversations would be pretty one sided but as time went on Donna spoke more and more to you, eventually asking about the green skin and horns.

You confess that you’re not human and in fact an earth ghoul that just wanted to become more in touch with your element.

Donna couldn’t help but feel better that your reasoning was so pure.

She offered for you to stay in your natural form if it was more comfortable for you and reassured you than nobody would see you like that if you didn’t want them to.

You felt comforted by Donna’s presence and openness about your natural appearance and you only hopped she felt the same when she showed you her scar.

Angie loved to sit on your shoulders and hold onto your horns, always saying how she could ride the mighty ram into battle.

Salvatore Moreau

It starts small when he notices that someone else is in his waters.

He and his fish are usually the only thing that swim in the village since the villagers are too scared to.

When he spots blue skin in murky green water he gets excited at the idea of a new friend.

Spotting the blue skinned creature was easier than catching you because you were much smaller than he was.

You didn’t have a tail like he did but you could see much clearly under water and evade his capture.

It wasn’t like he wanted to hurt you, he just wanted to meet you and meet someone else who has an affinity for water.

Slowly but surely he was able to coax you out of your hiding spot and onto the shore. He was curious on how someone that looked human could crept for the blue skin and small silver horns, found it’s way into his territory.

You explained that you wanted to see the ocean but only got this far and that you were at water ghoul.

He excitedly told you that there were other lakes around the village that he could take you to.

When you confessed that you only liked his lake because there weren’t any people except for him and his fish he tried to make the water as enjoyable as possible for you.

Mother Miranda

Since you first came to the village she knew you weren’t human. You looked human and ate human food but there was just a strange aura around you.

You weren’t disturbing any of her plans or experiments so she left you alone for the time being.

When you sat on top of her chapel just to get a better look at the stars, she confronted you.

She landed beside you and asked not so calmly why you were on her chapel.

You explained that you leaned no harm and just wanted to see the stars better. After all the village didn’t have the best views.

You were much more calm than anyone else.

Mother Miranda just sighed and offered to show you better spots to see the stars that weren’t on her roof.

She showed you a few places and even varied you to the top of Lady Dimitrescu’s castle because what could Alcina do? It wasn’t like she was going to say no to Miranda.

It became a little tradition for Miranda to meet you at night and watch the night sky with you.

When you confessed to being not human she said she already knew but didn’t know what you were.

You said you were a quintessence ghoul and simply wanted to see the sky.

She was impressed to see a ghoul out in the real world and asked if you could help her with her experiments.

Since you had a lot of free time in the day you agreed.

[paulyenvol6]

Bound by Flame (Chapter 5)

Contains: dominant and manipulative Daemon, captivity

Wordcount: ~2.65k

Masterlist of this story

When her eyes snapped open the next morning there was a moment of confusion.

For a brief second Maera didn't know where she was and what had happened but then everything came back to her and the girl would've preferred to stay in the dark about the day before.

It wasn't a nightmare after all. It was her reality from now on and Maera wished she could suffocate herself with her pillow. Although she had slept for many hours she still felt tired and exhausted and so she didn't even think about getting up.

Soon Daemon woke up and stretched his limbs while yawning loudly. Then he drew his attention to his wife and looked into her cold and sad eyes.

"Good morrow. I think something to eat would be appropriate now, right?"

He didn't receive an answer which Daemon noted but he didn't come at her for it. The rogue prince climbed off the bed and got dressed in new robes while Maera found a gown on one of the shelfs. Someone must have brought it to the room while she had slept, a thought that scared even though she thought that the most dangerous person at Dragonstone was probably already sharing her bed.

She glanced over her shoulder, not sure whether she would be granted the chance to dress herself in peace but Daemon didn't give the impression that he would leave her alone any time soon. With shaking hands she pulled the dress over her naked body. It was a simple plain day dress. Nothing too special or glamorous but she didn't mind at all.

Once she was done and turned around she saw that Daemon's eyes had been fixed on her and a cold shiver ran down her spine. Her uncle suddenly took her hand and pulled her with him towards the door.

The breakfast was a quick affair with Maera sitting next to Daemon, her head lowered while chewing on a slice of bread. A friend of her uncle, Ser Ryden, a gold cloak, was seated next to Daemon and fortunately the two of the chatted the whole time so Maera could zone out and sink into sadness again. She had glanced in the mirror before and had noticed deep shadows under her eyes and truthfully she felt exactly like that.

The bread in her mouth was hard and tasted like nothing but Maera wasn't sure if it was actually that horrible or if she merely couldn't enjoy anything on this terrible morning. She sat in silence, had her eyes focused on her plate in front of her and then she was brought back to the present moment when Daemon rested his gaze on her.

"Maera.", he spoke, knowing well that she hadn't followed the friends' previous conversation and she slightly turned to him.

"What?", she hissed, not able to hide her dissatisfaction. He ignored it though.

"Ryden and I are gonna go hunting. We'll be back in the noon and then we can eat together. In the meantime you can go to the library or to the stables or in the gardens. Whatever you'd like to do."

She pushed her chin forward and sulked at him.

"Don't act like I have a choice."

He scoffed and put a hand on her shoulder. "Here at Dragonstone you can do as you like."

Maera turned her attention to the bread in front of her so Daemon let go of her. But instead of leaving, as she had expected him to, he cleared his throat.

"Ryden, leave us please. I'll meet you in front of the castle."

When the sound of the door slamming shut filled the room Daemon observed his niece who had sunken down in her chair and lifted her chin with his finger.

"I think I'll have to make a few things clear, little one.", he started with a low but sharp voice.

"You will stop this sulking now. I'm your husband and though you don't like this union, it is your duty to not only provide me an heir but also to follow my commands and be respectful towards me, does that silly mind of yours understand that? I don't wish to see this stubbornness, this pout on your lips and you refusing everything I tell you to do."

Daemon leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs.

"Furthermore… Now that we are already speaking about it, you are not to talk to any male servants or knights, Maera. You are not to go anywhere without asking me for my permission. You will not do anything that I haven't allowed you to do, is that clear?"

She nodded. Not because she was in agreement with Daemon's words but because she couldn't bare another of his lectures. That seemed to be all that he wanted though because he got off his chair.

"I'll be back soon. I've commanded a servant to prepare a bath for you by the way."

Maera didn't even twitch nor did her eyes follow him as Daemon left the room and even once he was gone, the girl spent another 10 minutes sitting in silence.

Outside it had started to rain and so the only sound was the raindrops slamming against the window. For some reason it gave her a little comfort. She almost felt as if the gods weren't indifferent to what had happened. They hadn't been able to stop Daemon from committing these crimes but perhaps they were weeping for her at least? Giving her the least amount of courtesy by pitying her?

~~~~~~~~~~

Two hours later the rain had stopped so Maera decided to go outside.

The past hours had been painful and long. She had spent half of it in the library and despite being a passionate reader at that moment she couldn't concentrate on the letters in front of her words and wasn't able to enter that alternative world her book described.

So afterwards she had strolled around the castle but that turned out to be boring as well. All she knew was that she wouldn't take that bath her uncle had suggested because Maera was determined not to do anything that came from his mind.

And then when the sky finally cleared at last and little sun rays peaked from behind the clouds, Maera left the castle and started by circling the masonry. The grass was still wet, she could smell the scent of rain and musk and it was as though the rain had washed away the grime of the world, leaving the place pure and innocent and in its natural essence.

It was refreshing and Maera greedily inhaled the cold air. Being out here was definitely more exciting and healthy for her boiling head than the heaviness of the castle ceilings and soon the girl felt a little more like a human being again. To her misfortune the peace outside the castle walls additionally seemed to force her thoughts to drift to her current situation and Maera couldn't stop her head from thinking about what would happen now.

Her chest tightened because when she looked ahead into her future all she could see was the devil that was Daemon. She was his wife by law and there was nothing she could do about it. If her life wasn't so dear to her she would simply drown herself in the sea. But Maera would fight. She would fight for her freedom and her dignity, though she didn't know how to do that at this moment. On this island Daemon would control her every steps and she was clearly physically inferior to him. Maybe they would some day visit the capital and Maera would then be able to escape from him…?

But who knew what her uncle had in mind and what if he would never let her leave Dragonstone again? But if she could some day get to King's Landing, perhaps her father's guards would protect her from him and fight Daemon when he would intend to take her back to Dragonstone.

Her father… she hadn't even had much time to think about him. Maera asked herself what he was doing right now and how he had reacted when he had found out. She just hoped if he knew about their marriage (which most likely was the case), he didn't assume that she did it willingly. She could only hope that her father had enough trust in her to know that Maera would've never disobeyed her father's wish to marry her to Ser Brandeth and ran off with her uncle.

Thinking of Viserys brought tears to Maera's eyes and she wished for nothing more than his presence. He would be able to handle it, seven hells. He would take her in his arms, embrace her with his warmth and shout at Daemon for what he had done. But would he be able to annul this marriage? That Maera didn't know but she knew that either way, her father would find a way. She wasn't blind to his slight mistrust towards his brother and found that the king most likely wasn't a great supporter of this match in any case.

Even if Daemon hadn't taken her against her will but it had been her wish to wed him, her father would've probably forbidden it. Maera missed him terribly at this moment. And also Aegon and Julvra and even the familiar lords of the small council that often dined with their family. What would she give for any of those people to be here right now…

She felt a breeze on her skin and the salitness of the air on her tongue. Though the rain had stopped the weather was still stirred up as if the trouble had come to an end but it was clear that an even bigger storm would follow. More and more distance grew between the girl and the castle and then Maera was by the beach and she heard the waves crashing down and against the mossy rocks and cliffs that diffused a mouldy smell.

There was a boat dangling by the beach and for a few minutes Maera didn't even really notice its existence until it hit her like a stroke.

A boat.

Gods be damned, how was it possible that she had been staring at it for the last 5 minutes and not realize what she could use it for?

A boat.

A way of fleeing from this place.

Maera hasted to the wooden boat and didn't care about her shoes and feet getting wet as she was wading through the shallow water.

She heard her own heartbeat in her ears and felt so nervous while the boat came closer to her. She could almost touch it now.

But then suddenly she heard a sound behind her and stumbled around. Her heart sank into her legs and the shock made her freeze in her motion.

Daemon, like the devil himself, had approached her on his horse and now that he was in front of her he climbed off it and his face had never looked colder and angrier, a fact that frightened Maera of what was going to happen now.

"You little – "

He swifly walked towards her and then roughly grabbed her upper arm with his iron grip. Maera cried out in pain but knew that every chance of fleeing had just vanished. Daemon dragged his niece with him while cursing sharply.

"Stupid little slut. You think you can escape from me? You can't and you won't. When I came back I saw that you were gone and the servants told me that you had gone on a walk. So I rode out to find you and what awaits me?" He chuckled.

"You trying to flee from me with a fucking boat. From me, your husband. Did I give you any kind of permission? Something I forgot about?"

They were standing in front of his horse now and with one movement Daemon heaved her up so she was sitting on the horse. She tried to squirm from his grip but he quickly mounted the horse as well so he was seated behind his niece and wrapped an arm around her center. While guiding his horse back to the castle Daemon suddenly yanked her hair back, a motion that made his niece whince in pain.

"I think you've not yet understood how this is gonna work, Maera. How dare you trying to leave Dragonstone in secret? Are you so eager to anger me?"

Her eyes flashed and she was still determined not to show any signs of weaknes or regret so the girl continued to hold her chin high while shifting in the saddle in order to get away from his hands.

"Maera!", he hissed and delivered a soft smack to her cheek.

"Fuck you.", she grunted which earned her another slap, a little more forceful than the last one.

That was enough to make her sob and she restlessly squirmed and tried to push him away.

"Do you think this makes me happy, mhm? Having to punish you all the time in order to tame you?", Daemon growled in her ear. "How am I supposed to protect you if you flee from me? How am I supposed to take care of you if you don't fucking trust me?"

They were back at the castle now and Daemon swiftly jumped off his horse and was fast to roughly pull his niece to the ground as well. He was still furious, his eyes glaring at her while he once again dragged her with him inside the castle walls.

"You're leaving me no choice, sweet niece.", he whispered to her while pulling the sobbing girl through the corridors. "If you can't be obedient I have to punish you and make you obedient."

There were in front of their chambers now and Daemon pushed the door open. He shoved his niece inside and towards one of the chairs which made her stumble and she almost fell to the ground. She could barely take hold of the backrest of one of the chairs which stopped her from falling. Maera had no choice but to sit down and look up to her uncle who towered over her. His hand wrapped around her chin which forced her glossy eyes to stay on him as he grinded his teeth.

"Did you really think you'd be able to outsmart me?", her uncle hissed. "Did you really think I'd just let you get away? It won't save you, little pet. Nothing will. You belong by my side and you should better start accepting it."

His hand tightened. "You're mine. You've always been mine, but now nothing will stop me from claiming what's mine because you're my wife."

He finally let go of her and dropped her head almost as if he was disgusted by her. Daemon then slowly walked back and forth in the room without taking his eyes off her.

"Perhaps I've been too hasty and thought I could trust you too early. Right now you're a little beast that refuses to be tamed. But I will succeed, I'm certain. No matter what it takes, I'm sure I'll have my good little kitten soon."

He then stopped and sighed at her. "You will regret this, sweetling. Because I find that I have no other option than to lock you into our chambers."

Maera's face slumped in despair and she begged him with her eyes.

"Please no, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to – "

"Spare me, little girl. This is your punishment. I hope you will learn from it. Do something like this again and the it will only get worse for you."

She wanted to intervene, say something else to convince him not to force her to stay in their chambers but Daemon didn't pay any further attention to her.

He just walked to the door and before Maera was able to run and follow him, it had closed and she heard a key turn in the locket.

~~~~~~~~~~

Taglist:

@smashee0789 @classicsimpforaaronwarner @hangmanscoming @ninihrtss @coffeebooksrain18 @aleemendoza2425-blog

[godihatethiswebsite]

Mourning Doves

✽Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x f!reader

Johnny provides you with some comfort after your favorite hockey team loses

Main Masterlist ✽ Ao3

This is a little drabble I wrote for me and @ohbo-ohno after we both suffered grievous losses in the Stanley Cup playoffs tonight. I know we're supposed to be in mourning, but the brain bunnies demanded comfort so I stayed up late and wrote it myself ❤️

Also I'm biased so it's our favorite Scotsman

"I'm going to die."

"Yer not goin' tae die."

"Bury me in the garden underneath the willow tree."

"Ye havnae gone there since ya ran into that spiderweb last summer."

"The spider can have my carcass."

"Now yer jus' being a numpty."

Your face was still buried in the pillow from where you put it fifteen minutes ago, the rest of your body sprawled out on your stomach with your right arm and leg dangling off the couch like a limp ragdoll. He'd returned home to find you like this after a late night spent with the team, expecting to find you asleep by the time he got home from the bar since it was now well after midnight. Instead, he's greeted with the sight of your theatrics to having watched your favorite hockey team - the Denver Brown Bears - defeated in double overtime by the Austin Tigers.

Johnny located the remote you must've tossed in your grief and turned the TV off, setting it on the coffee table before kneeling down next to your form, running his knuckles up and down your hanging limb. "There now, hen. Dunnae fret. Ye'll get 'em next year, ah'm sure of it."

Turning your head to the side, he finally got to see the sunken expression marring your beautiful face; bloodshot eyes overflowing with tears, face flushed and splotchy from crying. You'd tried to put on a brave facade with your earlier banter, but it was obvious now that you were struggling. This was more than just a minor upset - his girl was genuinely hurting.

His brows furrowed and heart dropped in his chest to see you so devastated. He knew how much this had meant to you, the unbridled joy and excitement he'd seen you display the past few weeks as your team made it into the playoffs had only endeared him to you even more. Oh sure, he'd ribbed you for it playfully whenever he saw you curled up in the living room wearing the Bears goalie's jersey animatedly cheering on your team and throwing popcorn at a bad call, but truthfully he'd loved getting to see you so spirited, especially knowing the rough patch you'd been going through lately. Hockey had been a good distraction and it was a shame the season had to end like this for you.

He brushed a loose strand of hair from your face, damped by the moisture and sticking to your skin before moving it back behind your ear. The quiet broken whimper as he touched your cheek had him reacting on instinct, rolling you onto your side so that he could lift you up into his arms, cradling you to his chest as your hand fisted his shirt like a child would seeking comfort. What tears had slowed over time began anew now that you had him here, needing his steadiness and warmth to ground you from the onslaught of emotions pulling you down below the waves. He kept his voice soft and tone reassuring, letting you seek solace in his familiar embrace.

"Shhhh... s'alright, mo chridhe. Ah'm here. Ah've got ye..."

Carrying you down the hall, he carefully toed the bedroom door open, slipping inside the darkened room before closing it behind him with his heel. He stepped over the wrinkled clothes on the floor as he made his way over to the bed, never stopping his comforting noises as you continued to hiccup out tears, ruining his shirt with wetness from where your face stayed pressed against his collarbone.

Johnny perched himself on the edge of the bed, settling you more comfortably in his lap as the arm that had been tucked under your knees moved to rub circles into your back. He let you get all your emotions out, content to just hold you safe until the worst of it had passed. It tore at his insides to see you so depressed, wishing it was a problem he could get his hands on instead of feeling so useless for you. He'd never been very good at sitting idly by, the beast under his skin itching for a fight he could walk away bloodied from. If it wasn't for the baser need to be here for you, there's a good chance he'd be on his phone right now trying to convince the lads to take a day trip down to Austin with him for some retribution for making his girl weep.

But no. Putting his fists into an entire hockey team wouldn't change the outcome of tonight. Johnny knew you simply had to let time take it's course and eventually make it easier for you to move on past your grief.

Once your cries had quieted and tears lessened, he'd gently maneuvered you off his lap and onto the mattress, pressing a firm kiss to the crown of your head before walking over to the dresser and rooting around for something more comfortable to wear. He ignored the quiet sniffles behind him as he worked quickly to rid himself of his clothes, changing into a pair of sweats and an old army shirt before joining you back by the bed. You let him tug the Bears jersey up over your head, keeping your arms raised as he replaced it with one of his soft shirts you often loved to steal from him, dragging your pants off your legs before pulling back the comforter and motioning you to climb in.

Once you got situated in your spot, Johnny curled up right next to you and pulled you back into his hold, head resting on his chest as your limbs tangled together under the sheets. He made sure you were tucked in all nice and snuggly, heart fluttering at the familiar sensation of you nuzzling your face into him and breathing in his scent. You were still upset at the loss, but it was easier to deal with wrapped up in your lover's arms.

There weren't many problems that being with Johnny couldn't fix; he was your pillar, your rock, the one thing in this world that could find you in the darkest of depths and drag you from it's clutches up towards the surface. He radiated pure light in a way that even after all this time together still left you in total awe. He liked to say he wasn't a good man - that you deserved someone made of softer materials with less blood on their hands - but he didn't understand it no matter how hard you tried to explain.

You didn't need soft. You needed someone made of iron and shattered teeth that could fight back your inner demons. Someone with scarred knuckles and split lips who knew how to mend the tattered edges of your soul because they already had the experience stitching themselves back together with needle and thread.

So on nights like tonight when you couldn't fight your own battles...

"I really wanted them to win..."

"Ah ken, love. Ah ken. But jus' think how hard they fought fer ye. Dinnae go down easy that's fer damn sure. Be proud of yer boys, love. It's cuz of bonny lasses like yerself that they had the support and strength to get as far as they did. They'll come back swingin' - and when they do, they'll naught ask fer a better fan cheerin' them on."

...you knew you had someone right there beside you to throw the first punch and shield your body with his own.

And if you ever asked him to, he'd glady show those Tigers what happens when they encounter a pack of wolves

[ouiouimochi]

Once upon a dream

pairing/s: soshiro hoshina x reader

genre/s: fluff, romance, strangers (?) to lovers

wc: 1.9k

warning/s: use of honorifics, oonga boonga words, no beta we die like men, unintentional hoshino (hoshina fan from kaiju relax) slander, me and my unnecessary comments >:)), okay hoshina might be ooc-,

note/s: reader wears glasses and is a romantic, so like this was yet again done in different days and times so there could be inconsistencies, inspired by my dream and today’s art class funnily enough

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“—no doubt that I’d be brought back to you”

You had awakened yet again with a fuzzy feeling, quickly followed by emptiness when reality had sunken in. Every time leaving you with the want of just staying in your whimsical dreamscape— something deep down whispering for you to remain in the state of slumber forever in hopes to never ever be separated from the man in your dreams.

You didn't know him at all— a complete stranger that brought out a sense of familiarity. You can vividly remember every damndest detail from the events that took place and could easily recall everything from start to finish but not the man’s identity for some reason. You could remember his frame, silhouette, voice, and hair… but his face remained blank in your memories despite the frequency of these rendezvous.

Unable to keep to your own thoughts, you wrote the paragraphs that did more than encapsulate your feelings. With words, you built up the most enchanting castle made out of daydreams, blooming gardens of vivid emotions, a blanket of twinkling stars that held each and every wish you had— everything that one can describe straight out from fantasy. Your readers felt themselves be whisked away into the rabbit hole of your phantasms, indistinguishably blurring the line between reality and dreams.

Now, you've already made yourself a bit well-known despite being an anonymous writer under the pen name of Somni Vespera. Your alias encompassing the content of your writing— dreamy, surreal, whimsical… as if straight out of a fantasy. A modern day Salvador Dali with the pen. And this work in particular blew up quite quickly after release, greatly worrying you in regards to your anonymity, but you were able to thankfully keep your identity hidden.

In certain writing forums and communities,

readridreed882: Somni’s latest work is just *chef’s kiss*

ehEEhEE: God, how does somni do it???

1gorjusgojo: i gotta wonder where they’d been getting these ideas from though… they just feel so unreal

paragraph_palace: Unreal yeah, but fleetingly romantic

meepysheep: do they have a muse???

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As a fan of literature itself, your works did not pass by the radar of Soshiro Hoshina— if anything, someone can say he was a fan. His eyes continued to scan lines and lines of your latest writing again and again to make sure he wasn't imagining it. He was troubled with how your storytelling beyond perfectly emulated the feelings, sentiments, and experiences he had the past few months. He observed the parallels between his own dreamscape encounters and your paragraphs— a multitude of them utterly aligned.

The man wanted to contact the author to get answers to his questions, to confirm his suspicions. However, it seems impossible to do so when the said writer themself chose to stay hidden, so he can only be disappointed and settle to conclude that it was just one big coincidence.

But deep down, his heart yearned— doubting that it was just a coincidence no matter how irrational it made him seem. The ever so calm and collected vice captain of the Third Division found himself haunted by the same feeling every slumbering and waking moments.

and he never wanted it to stop.

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The sound of a tinkling bell echoes throughout the quaint cafe as you open the door. Your senses were greeted by the refreshing smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries, eyes soothed by the muted and minimalistic visuals of the interior. There was quite a bit of a line so you also queued yourself up, your eyes bringing itself up to the big menu behind the counter. However, something caught your attention first— an oh so familiar hairstyle that you've well memorized. The more you stared, the more you immediately doubted it was the mystery man in your dreams.

However, there was an itch telling you that maybe it was him despite confidently saying it can't be him. You were stuck observing this male, any outsider would’ve immediately noticed the intensity of your gaze if they do as much as take a glimpse. The man takes his place at the front of the line to get his order taken, your ears strained to try listening for his voice but unsuccessful in doing so. You waited for a while until he started to move, he turned around.

Who could blame you for immediately displaying an expression of disappointment? You really tried to hold back a grimace but failed— hopefully no one was watching you at the moment. The man who had the exact same hairstyle as the man in your dreams… looked like a man in his late 30’s. Now, you were quite the judge at times, and you criticized even yourself, but you wanted to facepalm at your stupidity. Okay fine, the man in your dream was faceless, but oh lord— he was not the one.

There were plenty of differences aside from… the face… like the height, build, and silhouette keep telling yourself that jk. You were right the first time, it was just the stupid little daydreamer in you wanting it to be him.

You might write the greatest and unrealistic of fantasies— but you admit you need to keep your delulu delusions in check.

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Kafka and Kikoru were people on a mission: to snap a photo of Vice Captain Hoshina with his eyes open. Now, the young blond didn't even know how she got dragged into this, but thanks to the old man— here she was. She thought of how stupid this was, how utterly dumb and absolutely brain-numbing it was… but she also thought how fun it'd be.

Scratch that, it was entirely idiotic of a notion to try and get the vice captain to open his eyes with the strategies Kafka came up with. Here they were in a cafe with yet another plan curated by the older male from Operations Manager Okonogi’s suggestion.

“This is stupid, we've tried a lot already!” she finally snapped, wanting to just leave the camera to the older male.

“Relax! This was from Okonogi-san who knew the Vice Captain for quite a while already…” even the ravenette sounded unsure of himself as he tried to convince the younger female.

Kikoru becomes irked, making the older male turn around to completely bicker with him. They were both unaware of their surroundings as their vice captain only amusedly watched on but unable to hear their conversation. The blonde becomes too preoccupied with arguing with the ravenette that it becomes too late for her to notice she was pushing the older male to bump into an unsuspecting person.

You fall forward and onto the tiled floor when an unexpected force collides with your back. You were not mad— if anything you were worried about the heat of every onlooker’s gaze on your fallen form. You couldn't see very well when your glasses also fell off— you were beyond embarrassed trying to pat around the ground for it.

“Here.” A voice with a soothing timbre echoed into your ears. The sound alone sends a subtle shiver down your spine with how comforting it was— just like the one you hear in your dreams. A hand offered itself in front of your face so you placed yours tentatively on top. The person then hoisted you up back on your feet as you patted yourself down for any dust. The person held out an object in your direction for you to take— it was your glasses.

Your head shot up to look at the slightly blurry figure of a male in front of you— a familiar one. You blink to try and discern more details before deciding to slip on your frames. While everything finally cleared, your eyes immediately locked into the rich burgundy orbs perfectly situated on a finely sculpted face framed by the recognizable hairstyle.

Time and reality paused and ceased to exist at that specific moment. A flash of recognition passed by both of your dumbstruck expressions as a magnetizing force seemed to pull you closer to each other— to fit into the other’s final piece. Despite only having met him now and not wanting to assume, you were sure that it was him this time around— your mysterious dream guy. It seemed like he recognized you too.

“I'm sorry… but have we met before?” your voice managed to find itself to question this male with the most captivating presence.

Hoshina blinked but did not break his gaze from yours, his eyes crinkled a bit in mirth with a charming smile on his lips.

“I don't think so but I believe yer' the woman of my dreams” fuckign screaming atm his accent managed to leak out. Literally—days and nights, no matter how short. When he closed his eyes, he was always greeted by the loveliest sights and treated to the most wonderful of experiences his reality couldn't offer. The weirdest was he vividly remembers every little detail without fail after awakening— the feeling of the rain, the freshly cut blades of grass, the soft hands holding his own, the smile that gave him indescribable warmth. Every waking moment entailed being filled with emotions he was sure he wouldn't feel in his entire life due to the nature of his job. but here he was, feeling the exact same fondness as he was faced with the oh so familiar stranger he made memories with in what he thought were just fantasies.

You bit your lip, trying to stop the smile creeping up your lips. Wanting to confirm, you started uttering the promise that remained constant in all of your dreams,

“When the blossoms are shed to start anew…” you tried to remain steady in your locked gazes, crossing your fingers to allow fate to give its blessings. A few moments beat by, your heart thumping in your ears as this man’s mouth opened slightly in surprise. Your hope started to diminish with every ticking second, until he uttered the very words you wanted to hear.

“..no doubt that I’d be brought back to you”

Your heart was about to burst with how quickly it pumped blood into flushing your cheeks with a healthy glow when you smiled so earnestly at the technically still a stranger man. He reciprocates, your enthusiasm was quite contagious.

“Soshiro Hoshina, m’ lady” he gently took one of your hands to bring it up to his lips, a giggle escaping your own pair. Everything was practically falling into place even if it seemed strange to an outsider's perspective.

“(Y/n) (L/n),” you switched your hands’ position to rest his on top of yours before kissing the back of it, responding in kind to his earlier gesture, “Great to meet you.”

I tried

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Unbeknownst to you two, Kikoru and Kafka were just gawking the whole time. Both of them wanted to profusely apologize immediately after realizing what they’d done, but their vice captain beat them into offering the fallen person help. Everything got stuck at the back of their throats as they witnessed everything, absolutely stunned. The young blonde blushing at watching something that felt… intimate.

But they unfortunately completely missed out on the opportunity to snap the picture for the mission. Guess the Tachikawa Base would be welcoming two new additions of people with the vice captain’s bowl cut.

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taglist bbs: @ryescapades (mwa for helping me decide), @justwinginglife, @iamjellyfish,

notes: funny how I initially wrote it like they remained on the floor the whole time this shit happened until I had to revise it, yes welcome to delulu where the outside world just doesn't exist anymore ehe (⁠ㆁ⁠ω⁠ㆁ⁠). also feel dumb for only discovering the thing that makes the font size smaller just now *facepalm*

[suugarbabe]

d.r. x reader

prompt: heyy is it possible to request a draco malfoy fic where the reader and draco are like childhood best friends and smth happens (with his parents of something) and the reader sorta comforts him? and he realises how much the reader means to him? thank youu

an: I cannot find the person who requested this, it was in a comment of another post so i hope you find it

You could read Draco’s emotions like the palm of your hand; it was one of the perks of knowing him since before you could even walk. Others always viewed Draco as cold and icy, but you knew it was all just a facade to please his father. 

Draco was your soulmate, not romantically, but platonically. Some would call you twin flames. He knew all your deepest secrets, and you his. These were often shared in your ‘hiding space’ in Draco’s family’s back garden because it was the one space neither Lucius or your father would go to look for either of you. 

When you were both eleven, Draco has fallen down the back steps of Malfoy manor, harshly scraping his knees and tearing the new trousers his parents had just gotten him. Tears welled in his eyes as he anxiously spoke of how disappointed his father would be in him and how he would call him weak. You had calmed him down with a tight hug, something he grew used to with you, before using your wand to heal his cuts and mend his trousers. 

When you had gotten your first heartbreak in year two, Draco held on to you in the Slytherin common room while you sobbed, sending Mattheo and Theo off to deal with the tosser that had broken you to pieces. He hated seeing you so emotionally destroyed, fuming as he rubbed soothing circles on your back before you fell asleep in his arms after finished crying. 

The two of you were always there for each other, no matter how big or little the circumstance. So when he walked into the common room with sunken eyes and slouching shoulders, you knew immediately something was wrong. 

He had come to join the others where they were seated. Giving small nods to those that acknowledged his presence. When he finally met eyes with you, your eyebrows were knitted. He did his best to keep his face stoic, but still you looked quickly to the hall leading toward the dorm before raising your eyebrows, indicating to Draco to meet you in his dorm. 

There was no point in refusing or fighting it, Draco knew this. If he were to try and avoid talking to you he’d likely find himself in a binding spell and being levitated to where you desired much like in year three when he tried to act like ‘one of the lads’. 

So that was why he found himself immediately following you down the hall, head hung low and hands in his pockets. When you reached his door you held it open, ushering him in first before you closed it, placing a locking charm on it for privacy. 

Draco stood in the middle of the room, still in the same position. You walked over to his bed, toeing off your shoes and climbing up on the four poster and laying down, head on the pillows. You opened your arms wide and spread your legs so you looked kind of like a starfish. 

“Dray,” you called his name, causing his head to look up in your general direction. When he saw your position he immediately walked over, shedding his jacket and kicking off his shoes before climbing up. He crawled in between your legs until his head was even with your sternum. 

He slowly let his body weight fall on top of you, wrapping his arms around your waist. You ran your fingers through his hair, lightly scratching his scalp before running your hand down his back as far as you can reach and back, rubbing his shoulders absentmindedly as well. 

You could feel him physically relax on top of you and after a few moments you decided to finally ask him the cause of his stress. “Wanna tell me what’s got you in such a sour mood?” your tone was slightly teasing, wanting to keep the ease that you were developing. 

“I always appear in a sour mood, darling. That’s just my face,” you smiled at his cheeky response, glad that he was feeling at least a little bit better to make a joke. You gave his scalp another quick scratch, silently indicating for him to keep talking and tell you the real reason he appeared so grumpy. 

 With a deep sigh, Draco started to explain to you what was going on, “It’s my father. I know I should be used to the amount of pressure he puts on me for everything, but with everything in our world getting more intense, I think he’s getting reprimanded more and taking it out on me. Mom tries to help, tries to tell me not to take it personally but you’ve heard how he talks to me.” 

He wrapped his arms around you tighter and you wrapped your arms lightly around his shoulders, holding him closer to your body. “You are so much more than what he tries to say about you, Dray. You are so smart, smarter than I’ll ever really tell you,” you teased, earning a small chuckle from Draco, “you’re also incredibly loyal, very cunning and sometimes even funnier than Theo, but don’t tell him I said that.” 

“I’m definitely going to tell him you said that,” Draco turned his head, chin resting on your stomach as his face formed a smirk. You pinched his cheek as you giggled at him causing him to tickle your side. You squirmed under him and he popped himself up on his knees, using both hands now to tickle up and down your sides. 

“D-Draco, stop,” you giggled, “can’t breathe.” He sat back on his hunches as you pushed yourself up to a sitting position, “You’re the absolute worst Draco Malfoy.” The smile on your face didn’t match up with your teasing words. 

“Interesting, that’s not what you were saying a moment ago. You were basically the president of the Draco Malfoy fan club,” his teasing smirk only made you smile wider. You slyly placed your hand behind you, grabbing hold of the edge of his pillow. Draco continued to speak, only to be cut off by you swinging the pillow and hitting his shoulder. 

“Oh, darling, big mistake,” Draco reached over your shoulder grabbing the other pillow to get his revenge. But you didn’t care, you were just happy to see the smile back on his face.