#and it leaves him unwilling to pursue you

[guubiiz]

trein...

[persicipen]

𑑛 “A GUARD FOR HIRE” ﾉ MOZE. HONKAI STAR RAIL

fem reader ﾉ words 2.8k ᯽ reader is a high-ranked diplomat. bit proud and bratty. petnames — princess. moze is giving emo aura. quickie. manhandling against the wall. thrill of getting discovered. cumming inside, mentioned protection. one night stand but suggestion to continue the relationship. flirting going both ways! ᯽ ADULT CONTENT ﾉ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ᯽

your diplomatic visit to one of the xianzhou ships is of utmost importance. thus, general feixiao lends her personal guard to ensure your safety. the short stroll in shadows takes an unexpected turn, one that leaves you both smitten.

The light breeze of the docks brings the scent of incense and distant melodies. Your arrival on one of the Xianzhou ships is marked by the swirl of silken banners and the quiet greeting of highest elegance between you and a few other diplomats.

The title of ‘Princess’ is a misnomer, one that clings to you like an unwanted gossip, yet here you stand, poised and ready to fulfill your role.

A figure detaches from the shadows as you step off the polished platform after exchanging pleasantries. Moze, the infamous shadow of the Great General Feixiao of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, moves with the quiet grace of a predator. His greyish features are looming over you like a storm, emphasising the stark contrast of his fuchsia eyes that seem to pierce through your very being. His demeanour is akin to a crow, brooding and enigmatic, a man of both dignity and foreboding.

“Welcome, Princess,” he addresses you with a curt nod, his voice low and devoid of warmth. The title grates on your nerves, but you swallow your irritation, knowing that he is your shield tonight.

“Good evening, indeed it is. Moze, correct? Long time no see…” you reply, striving to match his aloofness. “General Feixiao has entrusted you with my safety.”

He inclines his head again, a gesture that feels more like an acknowledgment of an obligation rather than respect. “Follow me,” he says, turning on his heel without waiting for your response.

You fall into step behind him, the bustling celebration fading as he leads you through a series of narrow passages. The noise of the festival is muffled here, replaced by the distant hum of the ship’s core and the occasional clink of unseen machinery. His presence is both a comfort and a source of unease; his silence is palpable, a constant reminder that one does not receive a prominent place by the general’s side so easily — he must possess many hidden talents, and you’re unsure if you should pursue your curiosity about any of them.

“As per usual, the security here is disappointing. Suspicious patrols are too active tonight,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “We must avoid unnecessary attention.”

You purse your lips, unsatisfied but unwilling to press further. The passageway twists and turns, your guide leading you with an unerring sense of direction until he suddenly halts, raising a hand to signal you to stop. You glance around, finding yourself in a secluded corridor, far from the festival’s epicentre.

His proximity is unsettling, the cold aura he exudes a barrier to the warmth of the celebration you can no longer hear. Yet, there is a confidence in his movements, a silent assurance that he will protect you, even if his loyalty remains as shadowed as his past. Should you even trust him? No, you mustn’t doubt the general’s word. She would not have sent her personal guard to you otherwise.

In a swift movement, Moze pushes you against the wall, eliciting a quiet gasp from your lips. One hand curls around your neck while the other grabs your hip, keeping you still.

“What are you doing?” you let out a silent scream at him, but he covers your mouth with his gloved hand — the awful realisation striking you how large his palm is compared to yours when you try to pull it away, unsuccessfully.

“Shh, patrols.” All he says, barely moving his lips, eyes flickering to the side and head tilted a degree to listen.

“But—”

He moves his hand, cupping your cheeks and chin instead, silencing you with the gesture. His touch feels heavy, inexplicably intimate. “I can’t let them see you.”

Your chest heaves as you struggle to find words to reply, but none come. His neon eyes burn into yours and it feels like the air has turned thicker, heavier, charged with electricity. You see him tense as footsteps echo through the closed street and then all of a sudden, he pulls you closer to him.

“Keep still. I can make us disappear.”

A violent shudder runs through your body at his command, and you immediately feel his thigh pressed between your legs. Is he even aware?

The silence hangs between you, filled only by the hammering of your heart and your harsh breathing. Every sense is attuned to his closeness, the hard press of his chest against yours, the heat emanating from his body, the rough texture of the metal details on his gloves against your skin. His fingers are tight on your chin, ensuring your eyes are fixed on him.

His presence is overwhelming, crushing, yet he seems completely unaffected, scanning the darkness with laser-like focus. How can he be so impassive? Why do you feel this way?

A small eternity passes before he finally relaxes his muscles, eyes gliding to meet yours — for the amount of emotions he shows, which is barely anything, they almost express an apology. “They’re gone.”

“Mhm,” you hum, unable to say anything else. You fear if you open your mouth, he’ll hear how your breathing hitches at his touch, hear the thoughts in your head that were anything but noble, hear your desire and confusion that pools in your core.

“We must move on, Princess. Don’t waste time,” he warns you as he steps back, unexpectedly releasing you from his grasp. Your body immediately misses his closeness, despite how overwhelming it felt. Trembling fingers clutch to his coat involuntarily, before you even notice they move on their own.

But Moze notices, ever vigilant, eyes quickly flashing to your hands, and back up at your face.

He then bows his head as he retrieves your hands away from him, placing them against your sides — almost tenderly. He mutters something unintelligible under his breath, before his brows knit together in a deep frown. “You are my duty. This is no time for idle musings.”

“Hmm… You say that, but do you know what I feel down there?” you whisper, clinging to him closer, the prominent bulge in his pants impossible to hide and easy for you to press after approaching these remaining inches between you two.

He remains still, save for the pulsating twitch beneath your fingers — he is quiet, the rise and fall of his chest slightly uneven, eyes glazed with indecipherable emotion.

A second too long for you to consider him interested, reading yourself to experience the worst shame, but he finally draws you in for a kiss, claiming your lips in a possessive manner, hungrily devouring your mouth like you’re air itself and he’s drowning.

Moze tastes just as you imagined — his tongue smooth, dark and wickedly talented as it glides against yours. The deep growl that reverberates from his chest seems to flow into your mouth, the sound sending an electric current of desire through your body. Your nails claw at his neck, hips desperately rolling against his thigh, searching for any friction you can get. Fuck his military pants and fuck how coarse they feel compared to your silken robes.

A muffled moan escapes your lips as he moves to trail his mouth along your jawline, leaving behind a blazing path of kisses and small nips.

“How far can I—?”

“Until you cum inside. I need to get rid of the stress from this whole delegation…” You could feel him smirking against your skin, but you don’t see it — his gloved fingers wrapping around your neck, making your head spin even more than it already did, but in the most delightful way.

“I assume this much already, but it’s safe, yes?” He suddenly stops, going from possessive to worried so quickly you barely catch up.

“Of course, I wouldn’t risk my career now,” you exhale, long lashes fluttering and lips swollen from his kisses.

You bunch up your expensive robes above your thighs, enough for him to see your glistening cunt, folds puffy with your slick, due to him — that rough fabric of his pants taunting you as a challenge to push you this far. Himself, he works fast on the buckles and belts of his pants, tugging down the parts necessary for his erection to spring free — he must have been aching for release just as much as you did, maybe even more. He gives himself a few pumps, ensuring he’s hard enough before he pulls you back into his embrace, just enough for him to access your entrance and lift you up without delay.

His mouth seeks yours again, this time with more urgency.

“So… Please, give me this honour. Take me. Give me something worth remembering after this night is over,” you mumble between his kisses, eyes wide open in anticipation of what is to happen.

The first thrust makes you weak in the knees, the feeling of his length sliding inside you is indescribable. You thought that his energy and aura were overwhelming before, but now it’s multiplied tenfold. You slip on one of your heels, but he secures you with his forearm under your lifted knee. The sound of your silk robes swishing as he moves against you is like music to your ears.

“Be quiet, Princess. Would you want someone to find us?” His voice is harsh, lips brushing against your earlobe as he whispers to you. As if reading your mind, because a wanton moan was already blooming in your throat, barely swallowed in time.

Your hips ache, both from the impact of being held in the air and how furiously you buck against him. You move in tandem, bodies writhing together, yet moze keeps control over your movements. The weight of his cock is deep and relentless, fucking you into a frenzy, making your eyes roll back as your legs tremble. His gaze burns into yours, all your attention consumed by his presence.

“How are you holding on?” His voice is barely above a whisper, eyes half-lidded and clouded with desire. “Knowing that it could end your career, how are you dealing with it?”

“I… Fuck, I don’t care about it now! You’re so smug about it, shouldn’t you do better if you still have the time to mock an official that pays you for your job?” you reply with a sharp pride, albeit quietly, but enough to send him the message. He seems almost impressed, judging by the smirk he gives you in return.

Fixing the hold he has on you, both of your knees now in the air and all your weight pressed against the wall and in the grip of his muscular arms, there’s no way to escape as he lets you fall on his shaft over and over again, deeper and deeper, his tip kissing your cervix, the movements harsh and quick.

“I can’t keep quiet!” you mewl right into his neck, your resolve faltering as your pleasure grows.

Moze chuckles darkly at your begging, apparently finding it amusing how you tremble and your eyes roll back as he relentlessly pounds into you.

“Look at me, Princess,” he commands. “You’ll cum with my eyes on you.”

His intense gaze holds you captive, like a moth drawn to the flame. Every detail fixed in your mind — his furrowed brow, lips parted as he draws in ragged breaths, neon eyes blazing with lust. Your body is on fire, every nerve tingling with pleasure, your release so close yet out of reach.

In a swift movement, he rolls his hips to angle himself against your sweet spot, a smug grin stretching across his lips as he feels you tighten around him.

“You’re so gorgeous when you’re desperate,” he whispers, leaning forward to trail his tongue along your throat. “If we were not on a mission, i’d have you spread out before me on the silken sheets.”

“Do… not… order… me… around…! Just because I— I’m vulnerable now!” you keep muttering under your breath, half-irritated by his words, half-trying to compose yourself so you wouldn’t moan through your gritted teeth. Your neck is soaked by his kisses and occasional nips that he leaves there as he adjusts his pace, both to match the quiet music of the festival and make sure he hits all the right spots inside you.

It works perfectly. Despite your persistence, a few times you were close to slip out from his grasp and into a loud and shameless moan, but he holds you with an iron grip, coaxing your orgasm out of you with expert precision.

Your muscles tense and your mind goes blank, all your senses honed in on the feeling of moze filling you, completing you. He presses his forehead against yours, gaze fixed on your face as you unravel, a ragged moan slipping past your lips. He curses under his breath, a strained groan that reverberates in your chest. The coil of pleasure within snaps, ecstasy washing over you in a violent wave, sparks dancing before your eyes as you clench around him. You cling to him, fingers tangling in his hair, nails digging into his shoulders, holding onto him like a lifeline.

He stills inside you, the tremors of your orgasm milking his cock, urging him to his release. During that minimal break, your eyes meet through the delirious haze, and you breathe out the quietest “come for me…” that works like a whip on him.

A rush of heat fills you as he cums with a staggered sigh, gloved fingers tightening their hold on your hips as he grinds against you, prolonging both your pleasures until he stills, tip pulsing with his release.

It feels so hot inside you, all you can think about is how you would look with your legs spread, his cum dripping down your thighs. How you would love to let that happen… but it is not an option for now.

But this moment will be forever imprinted in your memory, in the back of your mind. Especially when Moze presses his forehead against yours again, and pants right into your mouth — tousled but not sweaty, his stamina formidable.

“This is a bonus. But I still expect you to pay my wages,” he then smiles.

You huff at his demand, irritated by his assertiveness despite everything. “That is not what I had in mind. You think of me lowly! I would assume to pay you even more now that—”

“I’m not a whore, Princess. I’m fine with the original deal. This is a bonus, like I said. For being endearing.”

It’s a little saddening how quickly he puts you down, not waiting for your answer and adjusting his outfit in seconds. And yet somehow he still makes you feel special, like a prized possession he didn’t want to let go of, an unexpected gift wrapped up in a crumpled bow.

“Right… The deal,” you scoff, slowly but surely finding your ground on the heels. They seem to be like an additional leverage now that he fucked your brains out so thoroughly, you’re impressed how you can keep balance after that.

His cold facade only breaks when you step away from him. You barely notice his eyes flick to your face and then look at your heels, noticing how you seem more balanced than before. “Hmm… Not bad.”

“Is that praise I hear? Oh, do tell me more,” you smirk.

He huffs a little in amusement as you’re yet to realise there’s a drop of cum trickling down your inner leg. And then another one, finally tickling you enough to notice. He cocks an eyebrow, rather pleased about it, but says nothing — not out of sympathy, but because he finds it funny how you blink in confusion and then pick up the corner of your robes, wiping it against your wet entrance.

Your skin tingles where his touch lingered, all too aware of how exposed you feel. You are used to the skimpy dresses that are part of your designated fashion, but Moze stares at you with such intensity it’s like you’re standing naked before him. You push the thought from your mind and will yourself to meet his gaze.

“You should be proud, I’m usually not so easily pleased,” you say, though your voice wavers more than you would like.

A lopsided smirk is the only indication that he heard you as he adjusts his glove, turning his back to you and expecting you to follow. “My only task for tonight is to keep you safe. If you wish for my other services, you would have to convince General Feixiao first to borrow me again.”

You study him closely, wondering if his words are true. Your skin still buzzes with the memory of his touch, though your true responsibility forces you to disguise your feelings.

“Let’s go.”

[tossawary]

I was thinking about Xie Lian being able to snap the Xin Mo sword in half with his bare hands again, and then I thought to myself... "Wait, Xie Lian and Luo Binghe interaction could be really cute, though?"

Like, let's say that Xie Lian, during his time as a wandering trash god, accidentally falls into an interdimensional rift and ends up in the SVSSS world. His luck is bad like that. But while this is weird, sure, it's not that bad! The worlds are pretty similar and he can still make his living! So, Xie Lian wanders along as usual, curiously learning about this new world, picking through trash, occasionally punching demonic beasts to death to rescue awed civilians.

And at some point, Xie Lian runs into a young Luo Binghe while he's living on the streets. Let's say that Xie Lian rolls into town shortly before the death of Binghe's adoptive mother, has a few sweet encounters with this cute and kind child who doesn't have much to spare for a trash collector, and is there to comfort his new young friend when Binghe's adoptive mother passes away. Xie Lian is still there when Binghe gets thrown out onto the streets and he agrees to help the boy travel to Cang Qiong Mountain Sect.

So, Binghe gets to spend a month or two as a trash-collecting god's apprentice! He doesn't know that Xie Lian is a god. He suspects that Xie Lian is just a very powerful rogue cultivator who is living very humbly for some reason. The time isn't entirely pleasant, because life is hard and Binghe is grieving, but Xie Lian understands pain very well and is an excellent companion. He sees Binghe safely to Cang Qiong.

At which point, clingy Binghe does not want to separate from this extremely nice person, but Xie Lian insists on it. He wants Binghe to have a better life. He's worried that his bad luck will somehow spread to this poor boy who reminds him of so many other people he's loved and lost. Xie Lian supervises the confusing entrance exam, while the adult Cang Qiong cultivators desperately try to figure out who this strange person is (Airplane Bro is going "???!!!"), and then leaves wistfully. Binghe will later look back on this particular period of his life very fondly.

Xie Lian can then go in and out of the SVSSS plot as a person pleases! I think it would be very funny if Liu Qingge ended up with an unwilling crush on Xie Lian as well, when they have a spar for some reason and Xie Lian handily SLAMS him into the ground. Xie Lian would probably end up running into Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang somehow, both of whom I think would end up being a little obsessed with him.

I think that the best place to bring Xie Lian and Binghe back together is maybe after Binghe escapes the Endless Abyss. So that Binghe can have a nice cry session on Xie Lian's shoulder. Xie Lian can possibly then introduce Binghe to Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang. Or else generally fumble his way through facilitating Bingqiu actually communicating and being less of a painful mess. Shen Qingqiu (Shen Yuan) is very confused by this character?! Where did he come from??? Who is he??? He's very nice, though, and Shen Qingqiu is feeling maybe a liiiiittle jealous over Binghe.

(I don't know how to handle the System in this AU, but I do like the idea of the System just... not being able to handle Xie Lian. Xie Lian is a god from a different worldbuild. He kind of just breaks everything.)

(If you want to get a little angsty and ghostly, you could have a plotline in which Xie Lian helps the ghost of Shen Jiu somehow. Qijiu resolution?)

Binghe would probably be open to the idea of getting together with Xie Lian as well as Shen Qingqiu. He has a type! He is full of love! But Xie Lian is definitely not interested and is very good at wiggling away from come-ons, so Binghe respectfully doesn't pursue that passing thought / childhood crush, no matter what Tianlang-Jun is saying about threesomes again.

Binghe ends up using the (tamed? broken?) Xin Mo sword to send Xie Lian (his "gege") back to Xie Lian's own world. (Or Mobei-Jun could maybe do it?) Xie Lian has been gone for years and wants to see how his world is doing. Binghe tearfully promises to visit him regularly and to come get him WHENEVER HE WANTS. Xie Lian pats his head and agrees to stay in touch.

So, then Xie Lian tumbles out back into his own world and into the start of the plot of TGCF. And at any point in the plot of TGCF, he's now able to summon a heavenly demon from another dimension (with a super powerful sword that can move mountains?) who would absolutely be willing to fight all of heaven for him.

Xie Lian generally isn't going to do this, because he doesn't want to involve Binghe in his problems, even though Binghe is CHEWING THE WALLS with the desire to help him in return. However, Xie Lian does really like to go out with Binghe and Shen Qingqiu (and sometimes people like Airplane Bro and Mobei-Jun and Liu Qingge as well) to nice restaurants every other week or so. "So, what's new?" "Oh, I've ascended to heaven again and it's a little troublesome, ha ha. How are you?"

Hua Cheng is... nonplussed. On one hand, he's a little jealous. On the other hand, FINALLY, people can recognize that Xie Lian is the best person in the world. Luo Binghe has GOOD TASTE and is just some well-meaning kid whom Xie Lian likes a lot and who rightly thinks heaven sucks. Hua Cheng is determinedly shaking Luo Binghe's hand and giving him advice from a Ghost King to a future Demon Emperor.

(Tianlang-Jun CANNOT be allowed into Ghost City. He will NOT leave. I think that Hua Cheng is strong enough to throw him out if necessary, but Tianlang-Jun and Zhuzhi-Lang would just keep slipping back in somehow. Permanently banned from the gambling tables no matter what he offers, but Tianlang-Jun is still allowed to hang out at the Ghost City playhouse because he quickly becomes the favorite audience member of all of the ghost actors. He has AWFUL taste. Yin Yu hates this guy.)

(Also, I do think that Xie Lian would not really like the Xin Mo sword at all. E'ming is a beautiful baby boy made from and by Hua Cheng, who is Xie Lian's favorite person in the world who has never done anything wrong ever. Xin Mo is some random blade that destroys Luo Binghe's mental health and turns him into the worst version of himself! Xie Lian could and possibly should snap that possession sword like a twig.)

[ir-abelas-vhenan]

Something Something Yeah It's Still Solavellan Hours (Mythal is kind of here, too)

I've seen a few very beautifully articulated posts talking about the conflicted responses players are finding themselves having in regards to the decision by writers* to have Solas' atonement route possible because of his conversation with one of the remaining fragments of Mythal.

(*honestly I hesitate to put the weight of bigger game events on their shoulders because of how much I know bigger players in the company were involved, so when you read 'writers' know I just mean whoever had final say on plot)

I love reading where people are at on this, and having now breathed, re-played the scene, cried, read some more theories, and then played the scene again enough times I think I'm now able to figure out where I'm at.

TLDR: in my humble opinion, the conversation Solas has with Mythal doesn't bring him any actual closure at all. It is only the version of the atonement ending that has Lavellan in which he is actually set upon a road to redemption.

This, like everything else where I lose my mind, will be long. I tried to restrain myself and here we are, unhinged as ever.

I was unhappy at first that Mythal's incredibly brief conversation with Solas where she releases him from her service seemed to be what finally allowed him to make a decision based on his wants and not hers. My concern stemmed mostly from the fact that a lot of us are trying to be active participants in a society that recognizes patterns of abuse and seeks to establish channels through which individuals can pursue healing without the approval, consent, or demise of their abuser.

But the more I look at the scene, the more I wonder what would have happened in a world where Veilguard got just a little more time in development. Could we have gotten a scene that more elegantly conveys the theme that we cannot heal every part of our loved ones, much as we might like to?

In an imperfect world it isn't always up to us how someone finds closure, which really sucks when you'd like to ensure a loved one finds it in a way that preserves their dignity and limits exposure to the individuals who have harmed them.

And while it could be left there, I'd like to actually push back on the idea that Mythal is in any way responsible for "healing" Solas in this moment.

I went on a different tirade a few days ago about how at the end of Inquisition, Mythal says words to Solas that on their surface seem well-intentioned or placating, but they actually just serve to further bind him in guilt and a position of servitude. In Veilguard's finale, she still does not take accountability for exactly how much of a role she played in the pain that Solas, a man others have revered and feared as a god, has gone through as he cowers, actually cowers before her.

Mythal's interaction with Solas conveys exactly two things to him as far as I am concerned (I'm going to botch these quotes but my laptop is dying so please accept some paraphrase as I rush to finish this before I go cry about this analysis to my uncaring dog):

"The terrible things we did, we did together." You are forever tied to me.

"I release you from my service." But what am I releasing you to?

Because up until Lavellan joins the fray here, all I take away from the physical and unwilling emotional cues Solas gives in this scene (he is a master in trickery, for goodness' sake, the thought of so many witnesses seeing him unable to hide behind a mask has to leave him feeling anguished on top of everything else) is that Mythal has once again reminded him of everything he did in her name and telling him that all that's left for him is to go back to the fade prison and, as he as always done, endure the crushing weight of his failures alone.

To me, in my interpretation, the Solas that hears this from Mythal with no Lavellan intervention may choose to willingly step down from his original plan (and yeah, that's gonna do some damage) but he is certainly not free of his past. He's going to be reminded of it every time he turns a corner and finds more blight to try and soothe, and even the moments that he rests will be filled with more manifestations of his regret. He says it himself: where he's going? It's terrible.

Enter Lavellan. Yeah, he couldn't bring himself to listen to her at her first plea (but like damn how many times are we going to have to watch her give a heartfelt speech only for him to be like 'something something beautiful elven rejection'). But I know that you know that our clever icon knows better than to take what Solas says at face value. She tells Rook plainly that he's absolute dogshit at lies of the heart, and she says it with her whole chest.

Lavellan sees the way his shoulders slump (in resignation yes, but you can't convince me there's not a little bit of relief there, too), she hears the agony in the "vhenan" that escapes his lips (which, don't even get me started on the fact that it's been like nine years and he has no hesitation at all calling her his heart, it just spills out of him). It is not the sound of a man delighting in the steps he's about to take. They're certainly not steps he does not dislike that lead to a destination he enjoys.

And then she watches Mythal (who I can't imagine she feels any sort of fondness or respect for) pull some weird nonsense on her love one final time, and she knows it's her moment to shine.

Mythal, I would argue, pushes Solas down one more time, shames him into seeking atonement, into once again being alone.

It is the romanced Lavellan that kneels so that he cannot fail to meet her eyes. It is she who invokes their connection, not to remind him of his failures but to reaffirm his greatest strength: their love and their love alone is inevitable. Not the consequences of his past, not the regret he thinks will consume him as he seeks to mend what has been broken. It has only ever been them.

"There is no fate but the love we share". We are forever tied together.

"There is no fate but the love we share." *I* am releasing you from everything else save for this love.

Put colloquially: get absolutely fucking wrecked, Mythal.

Body language comparison to chase up the dialogue one, anyone? The way Solas shrinks before Mythal as opposed to him walking off into the fade with Lavellan at his side and standing tall, and he does not flinch when she lifts a hand to his shoulder?

Ultimately, Mythal is a part of the atonement endings no matter what. But it is only Lavellan that refuses to let him walk alone. It is only Lavellan that guarantees that his dinan'shiral ends not in a prison of regret, but a place of promise.

Mythal bends Solas until he breaks one last time. Lavellan takes each piece, claims it as hers, and uses them to build the beginnings of a future.

[redeemingvillains]

sweet disaster - draco malfoy

pairing: draco x f!reader

summary: you and draco are inseparable friends, but deeper feelings come to light when you're asked on a date with someone who is determined to take advantage of you.

words: 7.3k

warnings: reader is put under the influence unknowingly; unwanted advances and affection (nothing more than kissing).

You were snuggled into the edge of the largest couch in the Slytherin common room closest to the fireplace as it crackled. The warmth was welcome against the damp cold that lingered in the dungeons this time of year. You were covered in a quilted blanket reading against the soft light, but you found your attention wavering between the book in your lap and the boy next to you on the couch.

Draco Malfoy had been your closest friend for several years now. First year you had fallen into a fast and easy friendship, clicking right from the very start. You were like two halves of a whole, complimentary in ways other people didn’t quite understand. You could finish each other’s sentences, anticipate each other’s feelings, make each other laugh, even at the most nonsensical things that befuddled your other friends. You had a casual intimacy, your head resting on his shoulder, or wearing his jumpers when you were cold, him always adamant about having the seat next to you whether in class, in the Great Hall, or tonight in your respective spots on the couch.

In many ways your relationship intimidated those around you, who simply assumed that you were dating, though in reality you had never crossed that line. You didn’t even see Draco that way, truthfully… at first. But the more time that passed, and the older you had gotten, you found yourself more and more attracted to him. You were distracted, suddenly, by the way his grey eyes glinted like the cloudy night sky, the way his muscular frame filled out his suit jacket, the way he smelled, like leather and expensive cologne, and the warmth that radiated from him whenever you were pressed close together like you were right now. 

You’d lost count of the number of times you had nearly let slip how you felt, only to bite your tongue at the last minute, too afraid of rejection and of ruining the relationship you already had. But that didn’t stop you from daydreaming about twining your fingers into his or feeling his lips pressed softly against your own. You ran your fingers absentmindedly over your lips now, lost in that same thought as you stared at him when your daydream burst like a bubble as Pansy Parkinson sauntered into the common room, leaned over the couch and flung her arms around Draco.

“Pans” he acknowledged, his eyes never leaving his book as she pressed kisses to his cheek. The whole scene turned your stomach, disappointment, hurt and jealousy roiling in equal measures.

Their relationship was a new development over the last few weeks. He had never said anything to you about her, then all of a sudden she was following him around, hanging off of him, kissing him. You squeezed your eyes shut to keep them from welling up. You had been completely blindsided by their relationship and the pain in your heart felt like a fresh wound every day. What made her worth pursuing, but not you? What made her so much more attractive to him? Your mind raced with your own insecurities as you closed your book and stood to leave, unwilling and unable to sit and watch the two of them.

“You’re leaving?” Draco asked, surprised at your abrupt movements, at the lack of warmth he felt as you left his side.

“I’m going to get something to eat, good luck at practice” you said, forcing a smile on your face as you exited the common room as quickly as possible before your tears overflowed.

Draco’s eyes followed you the entire way out of the room. He was disappointed that you never wanted to hang out anymore. He missed you, but he couldn’t figure out how to tell you. Even when you were next to him, it felt like a chasm had opened up that he wasn’t able to cross. He was trying to work it out in his head as Pansy chattered in his ear… It couldn’t be Pansy, could it? He knew you weren’t her biggest fan, but did she really bother you that much? And if so, why hadn’t you said anything? It wasn’t like things were serious with Pansy. Truthfully, he didn’t even know why he had agreed to be with her in the first place. His head swirled as he stood up, pulling away from her.

“I’ve got to get to practice” he said dismissively amidst her whines of protest as he stormed out of the room.

You had absolutely no appetite, but you made your way to the Great Hall anyway, knowing most everyone would be eating dinner and hopeful your friends could help you take your mind off of things. You were nearly there when you heard someone shout your name. You turned to see Cormac McLaggen of all people waving and jogging over to you. You were in the same year and had a few classes together, but the rivalry between your houses and between him and Draco was no secret as competing captains of their quidditch teams.

“Cormac” you said cooly as he approached you.

“Y/N, you’re looking beautiful as ever” he cooed, ever the flirt. You rolled your eyes in response.

“What can I do for you?” you asked, eager to move this conversation along.

“You can go out with me tomorrow night” he said, point blank.

You couldn’t suppress the laughter that came out of your mouth. “And why would I ever do that?” you replied mockingly.

His cheeks blushed and he managed to look bashful for a moment, which caught you off guard.

“Because I fancy you. Have for a while, but I always thought you and Malfoy….” he trailed off. “Now that he’s with Pansy, I thought I’d have a shot. I know we don’t know each other that well, but I’d like to get to know you, if you’d give me a chance?”

You truly could not believe the words coming out of his mouth. You had always written him off as a flirt, well aware of the trail of girls he left in his wake, but he sounded so genuine, so sincere, and just the mention of Pansy’s name had your stomach churning again and your heart beating in your chest. If Draco didn’t see you that way, then why cling to something that was never going to happen? Not to mention a small part of you reveled at the idea of Draco hearing that you were going on a date with Cormac. You knew he’d be furious.

“Fine” you agreed.

“Yeah?” Cormac said, the surprise and joy written clear across his face.

“Sure” you shrugged, a smirk on your face.

Draco was deep in his own head, trying to work out how to make things right with you, while simultaneously trying to focus on his plan for practice as he suited up in the locker room. They’d agreed to share the pitch with the Gryffindors for the evening, both teams eager to get in as much practice as possible before the Quidditch Cup and he gritted his teeth as he listened to the annoying chatter of the opposing team nearby, namely McLaggen, with his obnoxious drawl, going on about whatever girl he had managed to sack that week. Draco was just about to tune him out when he heard something that made his breath catch in his lungs.

“That’s right boys, I’m taking Y/L/N out tomorrow night. Now accepting bets on how long it will take to get her in bed. Ten galleons says we leave after one drink!” Their side of the room howled with laughter and eager cheers and jaunts.

Draco’s side of the room began to spin.

You were going out with McLaggen? Since when? And of all people, why him? Suddenly his uniform felt too tight around his neck, like he couldn’t breathe. He tugged at his collar and found that his hands were shaking. He was furious. Furious at the way McLaggen was talking about you, like you were any other girl. His mind raced with mental images of you two snuggled in a booth at the Three Broomsticks, walking hand in hand down the corridors, you wearing a jersey with his name on it and he felt a wave of nausea wash over him. No, he definitely didn’t want you going out with McLaggen. But, the more he thought about it, he realized he didn’t want you going out with anyone…

You were right that spending time with friends at dinner had been a welcome distraction and you felt calmer as you trailed your way back to the common room. You were about to go to your room to study a bit before bed when the door flung open behind you and Draco marched in, his eyes scanning the room wildly before landing on you. You had never seen him this angry before, and certainly never at you as he grasped your arm firmly and pulled you into the corridor, away from the prying eyes and whispers of your fellow housemates.

“Ouch – Draco – that hurts! Let go of me! What’s the matter with you?” you demanded as you tried unsuccessfully to wiggle out of his strong grasp.

“Is this some kind of joke to you?” he asked. “Because it’s not funny in the slightest.”

“What are you talking about?” you asked, genuinely confused.

“McLaggen” he said, breathing heavily, “you and McLaggen.”

Oh, you realized. News travels fast.

You pulled out of his grasp and straightened up, meeting his burning gaze with your own.

“Not sure what difference it makes to you who I choose to go on a date with” you said smartly.

Draco let out an aggravated sigh and ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. Of course it made a difference to him. It made a massive difference to him, he realized, but he couldn’t coherently say what he wanted to say through the white-hot anger he felt pulsing through his blood, through the mental images of you with McLaggen that had plagued him all night.

“McLaggen, really?” was the only response he was able to muster.

“Oh, piss off, Draco!” you said. He didn’t have the right to be angry. He didn’t have a say in the matter. He was the one with a girlfriend to begin with.

Realizing what a mess he was making of the situation, Draco tried desperately to backpedal, to see if he could change your mind, to buy himself some time to figure all of this out.

“Look, he’s not a good guy. I heard him talking about you in the locker room, the things he was saying–”

You held up a hand in response, silencing him. “Just stop, Draco. You don’t get to do this” you said as you brushed passed him, back into the common room, leaving him alone in the corridor as he cradled his head in his hands.

You eyed yourself in the mirror the next evening, taking in your stylish sweater, short skirt, tights and heeled boots. It felt nice to be wanted, to be seen by someone, even if it wasn’t the person you wanted it to be. You felt a familiar ache in your chest as you thought briefly of Draco and how deeply you wished you were getting ready for a date with him instead. But you quickly dismissed the thought as you remembered every painful moment you’d watched him and Pansy; instead, you grabbed your coat and headed to the common room.

You tried to make your way quickly to the door when you realized Draco and nearly all of your friends were there. You could feel Draco’s eyes on you like a hex, could feel the weight of his stare, distinct from everyone else’s and you hazarded a glance his way against your better judgement. His arms were crossed and he had an angry scowl on his face. You met his eyes and amidst the palpable anger, for just a moment, you thought you could see a sparkle, a glint that said stay here, with me, please don’t do this. It nearly pulled you back in, but you turned away quickly, unwilling to acknowledge how those eyes, how this boy made you feel.

Your date went as predictably as you could have imagined. Revenge had felt sweet as you thought back to Draco’s reaction to your date, but now you were certainly paying the price. Gone was the bashful, blushing Cormac that had asked you out and in front of you was the self-flattering egotistical boy you had heard so much about. He bragged about himself relentlessly and he laid it on thick, inching closer to you every minute as you wiggled further and further away.

Your first butterbeer went down without any effort, proving to be a sweet distraction and a clear obstacle in front of your lips, which Cormac continually eyed.

“Another?” he asked eagerly, as you set down your empty glass.

“Sure” you said, smiling, looking forward to a moment of peace as he walked back to the bar, though he returned all too quickly.

“Here you are, beautiful” he said cheesily as he took a big gulp of his own.

You reached for the mug, happy to drown in the sweet liquid, but the first sip you took tasted awful: bitter and metallic, like the batch had gone bad.

“Gosh – I think something’s wrong with this” you said as you set the drink down, wincing.

“No, no I asked for another shot in it. It’s just stronger than you’re used to” Cormac said, winking as he pushed the drink back towards you.

Well, thank Merlin for that I suppose you thought as you choked down another sip and he renewed his efforts of bragging and flirting. Before long you felt a fog settle over your mind like a thick blanket. You felt yourself zoning in and out on his words, your thoughts wandering aimlessly.

“Gotta take a piss” he said abruptly, bringing you back to reality as he stood up. You looked down at your near-full drink and tried to think of a way to end this miserable date. You saw a large potted plant beside you, and took the opportunity to dump your drink there, hoping that Cormac would think you’d finished it and take the hint that it was time to leave.

Sure enough, he registered your empty glass immediately. “Whoa! I’ve got to catch up!” he said, as he chugged the last of his.

“I think I’d like to head back, if that’s alright with you?” you asked.

“Of course!” he said eagerly, rushing to help you out of the booth and wrap an arm around you possessively. You tried to create some distance between you but upon standing you realized the foggy feeling in your brain had wound its way to each of your limbs, making you sway slightly, so you relented and leaned into his strong frame.

You walked in silence for a while, your feet crunching on the frost on the ground. It was dark now and the street was illuminated only by the ambient light from the storefronts. Suddenly, Cormac surprised you by pulling you close to him in a small alleyway. He began kissing your neck, his lips working their way to the spot beneath your ear. “So beautiful” he murmured against your skin. “Never thought I’d see the day Malfoy’s girl took up an interest in me, but you are a slithery little minx aren’t you?”

His words, his lips, his everything felt so wrong and you struggled, scraping against his chest, trying to push his weight off of you fruitlessly; each of your limbs felt heavy and clumsy, uncoordinated.

“Sstop, Cormac” you managed weakly.

“What’s that?” he muttered, his hot breath making you feel feverish, flu-like.

“Sstop!” you said more forcefullyas you moved to push him off of you.

“What’s gotten into you?” he asked angrily, pulling back.

“M’going backt’castle” you slurred, stumbling slightly as you made for the main road.

“No! Come back!” he said, reaching for you and grasping the back of your jacket strongly, nearly knocking you to the ground. “You can’t come out, dressed like that, then spend all night making eyes at me just to shut me down.”

“Leggo of me!” you said, your voice rising. You wiggled out of your jacket, leaving him empty handed as you forged forward into the cold. A few people walked by, muttering and eyeing Cormac suspiciously, keeping him grounded in place.

The walk back to the castle felt like it took years, like one of those dreams where you’re running but no matter how fast you move your legs you don’t make any progress. It was undeniably cold as thick snowflakes began to fall from the sky and gather at your feet. You could feel the cold on the outside of your body, but your insides were hot, like you could feel the blood running through your veins slowly, weighing down your movements, your thoughts. You could have cried when you finally reached the castle doors nearest the astronomy tower. You were shivering violently, you were uncomfortable and you were desperately confused.

If anyone would have asked, Draco would have said he was reading. He’d even brought a book with him as an alibi, though it remained unopened in his lap as he sat in the window in the astronomy tower, hoping to catch a glimpse of you and McLaggen headed back from your date.

He didn’t know why he was so determined to put himself through the punishment of seeing you with him, perhaps because he knew had to see it with his own eyes to believe it, to believe you were truly happy with him, truly enjoying yourself. He thought about how beautiful you had looked tonight, your short skirt, your rosy cheeks, and he felt his heart squeeze as he ran his hands through his hair in frustration for the thousandth time, permanently mussing his normally slicked back locks. He let his head fall back against the cold stone wall when he saw erratic movement out of the corner of his eye and leaned forward in the window to get a better glimpse. Even between the thick, heavy snowfall and the dim light he could tell it was you, could see the color of your hair and your outfit and when he realized you were alone he was on his feet and moving before he knew what he was going to say. He dashed through the door and into the gathering snow.

“Y/N!” he called as he approached you.

You were hunched over hugging your arms to your body and he realized, suddenly, that you weren’t wearing your jacket. Merlin he was going to kill McLaggen.

“What’s wrong, where’s your jacket?” he asked, frantically, pulling off his own suit jacket to wrap around your shoulders.

You looked up at him and blinked slowly, searching his face like you were trying to figure out who he was, like you’d never seen him before.

“Y/N?” he asked again, as his heart began to quicken its pace with concern. “Are you okay?”

You looked confused at his question and as you stared at him, he took the opportunity to examine you properly. Your pupils were dilated wide and he could tell you were breathing heavily and shivering at the same time. He pressed a hand to your forehead and could feel you burning up despite the freezing temperature.

“Come on, let’s get you inside, alright?” he placed an arm around you gently and you melted into his embrace as he guided you up the stairs and into an empty classroom.

“What’s gone on, then? You’re all sorts of out of it. Where’s McLaggen?” he asked.

You shook your head in reply but didn’t offer more than that as your eyes fell to the floor.

“What were you drinking?” he tried.

“Butterbeers” you whispered.

This is helpless, he thought, yet he couldn’t ignore the feeling deep in chest that something wasn't right. He knew you better than anyone, better sometimes than he knew himself, and it wasn’t like you to go out and get drunk with a lad you hardly knew, and it wasn’t like you to wander around aimlessly without a jacket in the middle of winter, something was definitely wrong.  

“Tasted funny” you murmured quietly, pulling Draco out of his thoughts.

“What?” he said, wanting to make sure he’d heard you right.

“Tasted bad, so I didn’t drink all of it.”

Draco’s heartbeat thudded harder. He had read about a potion that was circulating around bars in London, intended to disorient and take advantage of people. This couldn’t possibly be it… McLaggen wouldn’t…. would he? Draco tried frantically to remember what he’d read as you swayed precariously on your feet and he caught you just in time, pulling you into his chest, too worried about you to enjoy the sensation of you pressed against him. He remembered the potion had a distinct taste, which made it difficult to mask. Sour? Tart? Bitter? Licorice, that was it. It tasted like black licorice.

“What did it taste like?” he prompted. “Your butterbeer, did it taste like something?” he asked, praying he was wrong.

“So gross” you murmured into his chest before you turned your head to face him as he looked down at you.

“Please, darling, try to think, did it remind you of something? A food? A candy maybe?” he tried.

“Yeah” you said quietly, thoughtfully. “Bertie Botts – what’s the ones we always pick out? The black ones?”

Fuck he thought.

“Licorice” he said sullenly.

“Licorice” you agreed.

His mind raced. He was going to kill him. He was going to bloody murder McLaggen with his bare hands. He was in utter disbelief that he would do something like this, to you, the most important person in Draco's life. As he thought about it, he pulled you further into his arms and you let out a contented sigh.

He needed to focus on getting you better. While it didn’t have long term harmful effects, he knew this potion was wreaking havoc on your body. From what he remembered the effects came in two stages, the first being disorientation, sluggishness and confusion and the second being a complete loss of inhibitions, making the drinker say and do whatever was on their mind, whatever their heart desired. It was no secret that Draco was good at potions, and he was hopeful he might be able to spare you the rest of the symptoms if they hadn’t set in yet.

“C’mon then” he said, urging you towards the door. You could barely stand on your own, nearly sinking to the floor again. Without wasting a moment, Draco scooped you into his arms, bridal style, one arm around your back, the other under your legs, your head resting in the crook of his neck as he carried you back to the common room.

He moved quickly, his mind working in overdrive thinking of the ingredients he needed for the remedy. You stirred in his arms, winding your own around his neck and pulling yourself closer into him. Your proximity sent a small shiver down his spine and he unconsciously gripped you tighter.

You murmured something against his neck, your breath tingling his skin.

“Hm?” he asked, struggling to understand you.

“Smell so good, you always smell so good, Draco” you said.

He smiled to himself and let out a small laugh, blushing. “Thank you” he whispered quietly.

You giggled back and he was glad to see that you were still conscious and coherent.

You wound your fingers into the hair at the base of his neck and nuzzled into the tender spot just below his ear. He all but dropped you when he felt your warm lips against his skin, pressing kisses to his neck. He was grateful you were near the dungeons, nearly to his room, unsure how much longer he could be steady on his feet.

He tried to wiggle away, his mind and his body fighting each other in their reactions. He knew this was wrong, knew you had no idea what you were doing, but your lips were absolutely sinful against his skin, warm and wet and he couldn’t deny that the sensation stirred a reaction in every inch of his body, especially as you worked your way across his jaw, towards his lips.

He fumbled with the doorknob to his room and quickly ushered you both inside, kicking the door closed behind him as he set you down on your feet. Though he’d let go of your legs, you clung to his neck and pressed your body into his, your face inches from his. He swallowed deeply as he looked at you – you were very much coherent now, your cheeks a rosy red and your eyes, though still dilated, shimmered at him. You bit your bottom lip seductively as your eyes trailed to his lips and you leaned forward.

For half a second, he considered it. You were right there in front of him, the subject of his every waking thought for the last two days, and frankly for the last three years if he was honest, and you wanted him, that much was clear. He imagined sinking his lips to yours, feeling their wet warmth pressed against him, the velvet taste of your tongue.

He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, using every ounce of strength he had left to pull away from you. You let out a small groan that should not have affected him the way it did as he grasped your hips firmly and walked you to the bed.

“You don’t want to kiss me?” you asked, the pout on your face nearly bringing him to his knees.

“Not like this, not tonight” he managed, his voice husky as he kept his eyes averted from yours. “Sit” he said, gesturing to the bed.

You relented and he made his way over to a small cabinet in his room, pulling out the ingredients he needed to right this unbelievable situation.

“It’s because of Pansy, isn’t it?” you said behind him.

He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face, trying to find the words to say in response.

“I think she’s terrible, Draco. I hate seeing the two of you together.”

He hazarded a glance in your direction, shocked at the truth of your words. You were laying back on his bed, eyes tracing the ceiling as you spoke. This was a conversation that needed to happen, he had loads he needed to say to you, but not like this. He remained silent as he sped up his efforts, mixing the ingredients in front of him; he was grateful that you remained silent for a while.

He had nearly finished when he heard shuffling behind him. He turned to see that you had pulled off your boots and you were pulling your sweater over your head.

Merlin you were going to be the death of him.

“Whoa whoa” he said, running to your side and trying to get you to stop just as your sweater hit the floor, leaving you in a dark lace bralette that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. He peeled his eyes away, searching for a shirt, a towel, a hoodie, anything he could to cover you, finding one of his hoodies on a nearby chair just as you grabbed his wrist, pulling yourself into his arms again.

“Should be me and you, Draco” you muttered against his lips. You ran your hands up his chest and then ran one palm slowly downward, across his ribs, his stomach, his belt until his hand shot out and grasped yours firmly. His heart was beating so hard in his chest, he was having trouble breathing. He swallowed deeply before taking your face firmly in his hands, as much to get your attention as to keep himself from kissing you.

“Please listen to me. I’m begging you. You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“But you’re not okay, you drank something you shouldn’t have and you have to focus on getting better, alright? Then we can talk about… all of this.”

You looked confused and more than a little disappointed, a pout set against your lips again, but your eyes traced his face, met his own and it was like a deeper part of you understood that he was trying to protect you.

“Okay” you sighed, relenting as you took the hoodie and pulled it over your head.

“Drink this” he said, offering the remedy he had made.

You eyed him warily but took the cup he offered you, sniffing it before taking a sip.

“Tastes good” you said, smiling at him, and he felt the first sense of relief since he’d found you that night as you finished the rest eagerly.

His eyes could have been deceiving him, but he swore he could see your pupils return to normal size as you blinked slowly.

“M’tired” you murmured. “Can I sleep?” you asked, glancing at his bed.

“Of course” he said, without hesitation as he helped you crawl under the sheets. You were out in a matter of minutes and he sunk into the couch next to his bed, exhausted, as he looked at you, trying to comprehend what the hell had just happened.

It had to have been the potion. But the potion didn’t make people say or do things they didn’t mean… it removed their inhibitions, allowed them to relax and pursue the deepest desires of their hearts, things they wouldn’t say or do otherwise. Was that it then? You were really attracted to him all this time? He thought about how long he had agonized over telling you how he felt, how he didn’t want to ruin your friendship and never felt any inclination that you saw him that way. It had driven him mad and was ultimately the reason he had agreed to start dating Pansy, hoping to distract himself from something he never thought possible.

He sighed, leaning his head back against the couch and running his hands over his face.

There was no way he was going to be able to sleep tonight, between wanting to make sure you were okay and reliving over and over and over again the way you looked at him, the desire in your eyes, the pout on your lips and your hot breath against his neck. He pulled off his shirt and pulled on a pair of sweatpants as he settled into the couch, thinking what a perfect vision you were in his bed, your hair splayed out on the pillow, wearing his sweatshirt, your chest gently rising and falling.

Your first thought was that you felt like you were on a cloud. You were immensely comfortable and you burrowed further into the sheets that were soft and silky and warm. You sighed deeply, breathing in a familiar scent that made you smile. You rested a moment longer before your brain slowly came to life; these sheets weren’t your sheets, and that smell was… Draco?

Your eyes fluttered open slowly as you tried to take in your surroundings. You were in a large four poster bed in a sea of emerald sheets; Draco’s room you thought. You looked down at your outfit, an oversized Slytherin sweatshirt you knew well; Draco’s sweatshirt. You looked to the other side of the bed and found it empty and you were surprised at how disappointed that made you feel. You stirred and turned to see Draco’s sleeping figure splayed over the small couch in his room, his frame much too large for it, making you smile. You let your eyes wander over his sleeping form, shirtless with a pair of sweatpants slung low on his hips. You looked around the room to see various articles of both of your clothing strewn on the floor. Oh god you thought. Did we…? You frantically tried to remember the night before and felt a sharp ache behind your eyes.

“Ahh” you said in pain as you sat up and rubbed your eyes, seeking relief.

The noise stirred Draco out of his sleep. It took him a moment to register the scene in front of him, you, in his bed, wearing his sweatshirt, him on the couch, and it all came back to him. You were hunched over and rubbing your eyes, your face squeezed in pain and he pulled himself quickly to his feet, making his way over to you and sitting on the bed next to you.

“Are you alright?” he asked, placing a hand gingerly on the side of your head.

You dropped your hands at the feeling of his. You had always been close, but this felt like a new level of intimacy as you met his eyes and saw them clouded with concern for you. His hand moved to cup your face, his thumb tracing your cheek tenderly.

“I’m f-fine” you managed, your skin warming under his touch as you desperately tried to piece together what had happened between the Draco that had scowled at you on the way to your date and the Draco in front of you. It was like a massive black hole existed where your memories should be.

He registered the look of confusion on your face.

“Do you remember... last night?” he asked, pulling his hand back. You wanted so desperately to remember, to understand what had him looking at you like that, his closeness and affection.

You closed your eyes, forcing yourself to try but were only met with the same sharp ache behind your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I can’t… I don’t…” you trailed off and it was silent for a moment. “Draco, did we…?” you let the question linger unfinished as you met his gaze.

His eyes widened, panicked. “No! No. I promise you. Nothing of the sort” he said, trying to reassure you. He smiled at you and you registered an uncanny pink in his cheeks as bobbed his head from side to side “…Despite your very best and most persistent efforts to the contrary.”

Now it was your turn to blush as you covered your mouth with your hands.

“WHAT?” you asked, astonished, humiliated. “Draco, I am so sorry, I—” you paused. What was there to be sorry for? The truth had clearly come out and the way he was smiling at you made you think he wasn’t unhappy to hear it. He wasn’t angry, he wasn’t confused, he wasn’t demanding an explanation. In fact, he was looking at you in a way you had only dreamed of, his eyes full of tenderness as they traced your hair, your face.

“You have absolutely nothing to apologize for” he said quickly, his signature smile on his face.

“Okay…” you said, trying to feel out this new situation. “Are you going to tell me what happened? And why I don’t remember anything?”

His smile faded and he looked away from you. You could see his Adam’s apple bob as he took a deep breath, silent for a while.

“Draco… you’re freaking me out” you said, your voice wavering as panic rose in your chest. “W-why don’t I remember anything?”

The pain and fear in your voice squeezed his heart. “Hey, it’s alright, you’re okay, come here” he said, pulling you into his chest. You curled into him, letting your heart beat against his, like it was the most natural thing in the world, your body seeming to remember something you couldn’t as it instantly relaxed.

“I don’t want to upset you, but you need to know the truth” he murmured against your hair. You pulled back to look at him, but he didn’t let you fully out of his grasp, his arms remaining circled around you as he took a deep breath.

“McLaggen – Cormac. You went out with him. From what I can gather you were at the Three Broomsticks and had a few drinks, a few butterbeers, but he put something in them. I’d read about it, it’s a potion that’s meant to…” he grimaced. “It’s meant to take advantage of someone, to make them confused and then drop their inhibitions. It’s said to taste awful, like—”

“Licorice” you said, a memory bubbling to the surface at the tart taste on your tongue, the greedy look in Cormac’s eyes as he encroached on your personal space. Your stomach roiled at the recollection and you scrunched your face in pain, the memories coming fast like flashes of a movie in your mind: you dumping your drink in the plant, Cormac pulling you into the alleyway, his lips, the weight of his body on you. You were breathing heavily and didn’t realize that you were crying until you felt warm wetness on your cheeks.

“No, no, no” Draco muttered as he pulled you back into his arms. “M’sorry. I’m so sorry. Please tell me he didn’t hurt you, didn’t take advantage of you, please. I’ll kill him. I’ll fucking kill him.”

He let you cry as the weight of what could have been washed over you, rubbing circles into your back, murmuring calmly against your hair. “You’re safe now, it’s okay. I swear on my life I will never let anything like that happen to you, ever again.”

Soon your cries turned to ragged breaths. “It’s not your fault, Draco. You couldn’t have known, neither of us could.”

“I should have known, I told you I heard the way he was talking about you, like it was such a sure thing you were going to hook up with him.” You could feel Draco physically tense as he talked about it, every muscle taut. “I let my anger cloud my judgement. I was furious at the way he was talking about you, furious that you’d agreed to go out with him.”

You pulled back to look at him, wiping the remaining tears from your cheeks. “Yeah, I gathered as much when you berated me” you said, shooting him a glare.

“I-I shouldn’t have done that. I mean, I meant it, but not in the way it came out. I wasn’t mad at you for going out with McLaggen. I was mad at you for going out with… anyone… anyone that wasn’t me…” he said, letting the truth linger in the air.

“W-what?” you said, your heart beating wildly in your chest.

He smiled shyly and rubbed the back of his neck. “I’ve fancied you for… a long time, but I didn’t want to ruin what we already had. You’re so important to me and I realized I would take having you in my life as a friend over not having you in my life at all should my feelings not be reciprocated.”

“But you’re literally dating Pansy!?” you replied, overwhelmed, exasperated.

“Was” he said.

“What?” you replied.

“Was dating Pansy. The minute I realized what a fuck up I’d been, I broke up with her. Yesterday, actually, just before you left for your date.”

You pouted at that and the familiar look of frustration on your face made him smile as he relived the same look on your face from the night before.

“Well, I obviously didn’t know that” you said, blushing deeply.

“Obviously” he agreed.

Your eyes fell to your lap and he reached over to tangle his fingers in yours reassuringly. You took them hesitantly at first, then eagerly, the warmth from his palm sending warmth to the rest of your body as well as you smiled, blushing.

You looked up to find Draco already staring at you, his eyes sizzling with warmth as they met yours before flitting, nearly imperceptibly to your lips and suddenly you were awash with another flood of memories from the night before.

You and Draco, just centimeters apart, him breathing heavily as he glanced at your lips.

The feeling of his taut chest underneath your fingers, your palm running over his abs.

His hands firm but tender on your cheeks. His words…“You are absolutely beautiful, Y/N, breathtaking. And I would truly love nothing more than to have my way with you right now. Really. You have… no idea.”

Curling into his bed, surrounded by his scent, and warm lips against your temple as he pulled the sheets around you.

“I-I remember” you said quietly.

His eyebrows quirked up accompanying a surprised look on his face.

“And?” he said, treading carefully, not wanting to get his hopes up that last night was more than just a side effect of a potion.

“And...” you started, blushing deeply and tucking a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, squeezing his hand as you met his eyes, shrugging bashfully, “I meant it, Draco, all of it. Not the way I imagined telling you, but gosh I’ve fancied you too, for a long time.”

He reached out with his free hand and pressed it to your forehead.

“What are you doing?” you giggled.

“Need to make sure you’re not still talking jibberish. You’re feeling okay? You mean it?” he said, moving his hand to various parts of your temple.

You reached up to pull his hand off of you. “I mean it, Draco” you said, smiling as he looked at you and laughed before the familiar look of desire crossed over his face again.

“Then please, for the love of Slytherin, can I kiss you?” he asked, his voice barely louder than a whisper; his boldness and sincerity setting your body alight.

You nodded, smiling widely.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you as his hand moved to cup your face locking you into him. Your body moved automatically, gravitating to him as his lips hovered over yours, ghosting them, tickling them with the barest touch of his own, savoring the anticipation of the satisfaction to come, the way you had wound your arms around his neck, the way you were breathing erratically against him, reveling in your desire before relenting. He kissed you sweetly, softly but deeply, with a passion that electrified every inch of your body. He pushed you backwards gently, laying you in the feathery softness of his bed as he rested his body comfortably atop you, tracing your bottom lip with his tongue, as you opened up to him immediately. Your kisses were like a dance you both already knew the steps to, effortless, beautiful, natural, your bodies so in tune to each other as your tongues tangled and he grasped you firmly against him.

He pulled away to look at you, breathing heavily and you couldn’t help the whine that escaped your lips at the lack of contact. Never wanting to disappoint you again, he pressed his lips to yours and you wound your hands into his hair, trying to pull him impossibly closer. You could feel him smiling against you as he pulled back again.

“Wait, wait” he said, pressing a kiss to your pout.

“What is it Draco?” you asked, breathless and impatient, his name on your kiss-swollen lips stealing his heart.

“Be mine?” he asked.

“It’s taken you long enough to realize it, but I’ve always been yours, Draco” you replied.

He hung his head in regret before meeting your eyes. “Trust me when I tell you--” he said, pressing a quick, warm kiss to your lips.

“I’m going to spend--” a deeper kiss.

“Every day” deeper still.

“Making it up to you” he said, sinking into you in earnest.

[kirain]

Just a little Emmrich fic based on @timethehobo's beautiful art here. Had me feeling angsty. 😅

Vae pushed open the heavy oak door to Emmrich's study, the hinges creaking slightly in protest. The room was as she expected: cluttered yet strangely orderly, filled with the faint scent of parchment and pipe smoke. Shelves packed with ancient tomes, scrolls, and artifacts lined the walls, and to the right of it all stood his desk, a chaotic mosaic of notes, quills, and half-finished experiments.

"Emmrich?" She glanced around but found no sign of him. "He must have stepped out."

The old book in her hands felt heavy as she crossed the room and carefully placed it on the desk, smoothing her fingers over its cracked leather binding. It had caught her eye in Dock Town, and she immediately remembered Emmrich's passing mention of wanting to read it.

Satisfied, she turned to leave, but a sudden, eerie green light flared behind her.

"Well, well," a snide, feminine voice drawled, its tone dripping with venom. "If it isn't Volkarin's little paramour."

Vae froze, a feeling of nausea churning in her gut. Slowly, she turned back to face Johanna's skull. The cursed object sat atop its ornate pedestal, its hollow eye sockets somehow teeming with malice.

"Hezenkoss," Vae said flatly, unwilling to give her any more attention than necessary.

"How cold," The skull cackled, the sound sharp and grating. "I was just starting to enjoy the quiet, then in comes the professor's pet. What did you bring him, hmm? Chocolates? Cheese? Some other fatuous notion of romance?"

Ignoring her jab, Vae headed for the door. "Just a book he wanted. Goodbye, Hezenkoss."

"How amusing. I can assure you, he's already read it," she scoffed. "That absentminded fool could never keep track of what he's consumed. He'd open a book, read the first page, then suddenly realise he'd read it years ago."

Vae paused, her hand lingering over the door knob. Against her better judgement, she sighed and walked to the desk, leaning against it and facing the skull.

"What was he like when he was younger?" she asked.

There was a brief silence, as if Hezenkoss hadn't expected the question. Then, her voice took on a grudging edge. "An idealist. A bleeding heart. A coward."

Vae frowned. "You were friends for years. You must have admired something about him."

"His intelligence," the half-lich admitted, begrudgingly. "And his magical prowess, but that's all. Both became the reason I despise him—he never utilized either one, wasting his potential. We could have ruled Nevarra, brought every neighbouring kingdom to their knees, but he preferred to play nanny to wayward spirits and shortsighted students. Pah!"

Vae's eyes narrowed. "I don't believe you. You don't stay friends with someone for decades without seeing something worthwhile in them."

"As I just said. He was a useful duck to bounce ideas off of, but he never did appreciate my vision."

"Your vision?" Vae crossed her arms, her brow furrowing. "Your vision killed innocent people. Turned spirits into abominations."

"Sacrifices are necessary to achieve greatness," she spat. "I'm no hypocrite. As you can see, I made the ultimate sacrifice. Volkarin will do the same, should he pursue lichdom."

"It's different if it's yourself," Vae argued. "But not when you force it on others. That's not a 'sacrifice', it's just murder."

"No difference, same outcome."

Vae flinched, disgust welling in her eyes. "I can't imagine Emmrich ever being friends with someone like you," she said, her tone ruthless. "Which means, at some point, you must've changed. I just can't help but wonder if it was before you became a lich or after."

"Lichdom doesn't change anyone's personality, morals, or thoughts. I'm the same person I always was," she asserted. "If you want the truth, the old man's too trusting. Too softhearted. He wants to befriend everyone, even if it means adjusting his own interests to suit their needs. I'm sure you've seen it."

Vae swallowed, thinking back to all the times Emmrich went out of his way to ensure his colleagues' comfort at the cost of his own. Hiding his skulls, refraining from discussing necromancy in front of Taash, choking down one of Harding's ham sandwiches, afraid he'd insult her if he didn't try it—and then all the times he fussed over Vae herself.

"He's kind," she countered, though she knew it was sometimes to a fault. "He said you were, too. Once."

"Pah! You mistake kindness for naivety. I was young, with no concept of reality." She groaned, as if cursing her former self. "I grew out of that. Volkarin didn't. Beneath his grey hair and wrinkled skin, he's still a child at heart, always seeing individuals over the collective."

Vae shook her head. "Do you feel any guilt at all for what you've done to him?"

The skull chuckled, a bitter, humourless sound. "Guilt? For what? He impeded my plans. I did nothing to him."

"You had him on a hit list."

"Yes, because I knew that bleeding heart would never stand for my glorious uprising. Better to crush him, and that ridiculous pile of bones he drags around, than risk his interference. It wasn't personal, you see? Just collateral."

Vae's jaw clenched, her hands balling into fists. "You have no idea how lucky you are to have that 'bleeding heart' in your life. The rest of the Mourn Watch wanted to seal your skull in a tomb, alone, for eternity. But he fought to become your caretaker, because he couldn't stand the thought of you rotting in solitude. Even after everything, he pitied you."

Silence fell over the study, save for the faint crackle of energy within the skull. Hezenkoss said nothing, but her glow dimmed slightly.

Vae huffed and rose to her feet. "He's taking your betrayal harder than he lets on. You should be grateful for his kindness."

The half-lich grumbled, a note of frustration in her voice. "I was never loyal to him. There was no betrayal.”

"Yes, there was," Vae's temper flared. "You could always go to him, always talk to him. You were friends. He cherished that, cherished you, but you threw it all away—and for what? A broken existence? Eternal imprisonment? Loss of all feeling? You'll never be able to walk again, smell again, enjoy someone's touch on your skin. You had it all, but now it's gone. Was it worth it?"

For a long while, Hezenkoss said nothing, Vae's eyes boring into her sockets. Then, with a soft, almost incredulous hiss, she said, "I will escape."

"Maybe," Vae nodded. "But if you do, know this: I will never let you hurt him again."

Hezenkoss' laughter rang out as Vae moved towards the door. "You won't have to worry about that, darling. The decrepit old fool probably only has a few years left anyway!"

Vae tensed but didn't look back. Gritting her teeth, she wrenched the door open—and froze. Emmrich stood in the hallway, his expression a mixture of shock and pain, the weight of the overheard conversation hanging heavy in the air.

"Emmrich," Vae whispered, stepping into the hall and closing the door behind her. "How long have you been—?"

"We were friends once," he whimpered, his eyes drifting to the floor, "...weren't we?"

Vae reached out, her fingers brushing against his cheek. He was so hurt, and it killed her to see. Without another word, she pulled him into a hug, her arms wrapping tightly around him. Almost immediately he melted in her embrace, burying his face in her shoulder, his hands trembling.

"I'm sorry," she murmured.

He didn't respond, but the way he clung to her spoke volumes.

[artdcnaldson]

UGH ok twist my arm i guess!!!! as a little treat!!!! dr donaldson <3

so gynecologist art, yall, doctor donaldson. cat and i were in the dms TRUST. so art decides that he should probably have a backup plan, just in case tennis doesnt work out after college. he doesnt expect to actually need it because his tennis is going great, hes on track to go pro very soon. but JUST in case, he decides to use his good grades to study some kind of medicine. initially he had thought some kind of sports medicine, if nothing else then it would be good knowledge for himself down the line.

but after his grandma passes (not of a stroke) and he hears his family discussing how if only her gynecologist had paid better attention and taken her serious she might have lived longer (idk anything about medicine but probably some kind of cancer yknow?). anyway he sees that a his motivation and picks gynecology as his field. patrick absolutely teases him to death over it, "you're gonna be a pussy doctor? what so you just get to look at naked chicks all day? i'd quit tennis for that too". again he's not really expecting to need it, so he doesnt take it too hard. but he's kind of obviously the only guy in the course, and the girls all think he's kind of weird for wanting to pursue a field of medicine that isnt relevant to him. but after him telling the story about his grandmother they all coo and comfort him that its okey and they understand.

he does well in all his classes because he does truly find it interesting and wants to do his best to help women. but as he's getting ready to go pro, he has an accident on the court, as he's going to return a long ball he twists his ankle and takes a bad fall. his recovery is good, but his ankle will never be as it was before, and his chances of the big tennis dream slowly dies. and ultimately he's just unwilling to spend his life as a struggling tennis player, when he could be making a real difference.

now that he has his own practice he likes to tell that story to his new patients, especially the ones who seem tense with the fact that he's a man, who will be examining their most private area. it does well to ease their minds. hes been doing this for many years now, he enjoys the work, and the women who come to him are happy with his work. his patients are typically slightly older women, as they're not as phased by a male gynecologist, whereas most younger women arent as comfortable with the idea. he doesnt mind that, in fact he understands perfectly. honestly hes grateful for it, he fears the day he might have a patient whos just a bit too attractive and he'll have to struggle to keep his cool.

that day unfortunately comes sooner than he had hoped. its your first appointment with him after having him recommended by a friend, you had contacted him and told him how you were very unhappy with your current doctor and wanted to try something else. not having had a male doctor before, except like your dentist, youre very nervous for the appointment. not knowing what to expect from it, or how seriously he will take your issues. out of nervous habit youve gotten ready for the appointment as if it were a date rather than a clinical exam. showered, shaved, cute panties, hair and makeup done. its all totally unnecessary, but the moment you see him for the first time you thank the divine for looking your absolute best. GOD hes so hot. far too hot to be a doctor. lets just say that he wears scrubs because theyre so sexy, and they truly are criminally flattering on him. he sits on his chair, typing away as youre lead into the room by an assistant. as soon as he looks up and asks you to have a seat with him, you both know youre screwed. the tension is immediately noticeable as you discuss your reason for coming in, just a routine check because your last doctor wouldnt do it thorough enough and didnt listen enough to your issues.

he leaves the room while you strip off and leave your clothes in a neat little pile, panties clearly on top in the hope that he'll see them and think theyre cute. and he does, in fact his eyes keep fluttering to them as hes getting ready for the exam. he has to adjust his chair a little lower in the hopes that you cant see that he's getting hard. meanwhile youre going from soaking to sopping wet as you watch him put on the latex gloves, snapping them against his wrist.

he can tell that you're tense, but as its your first appointment with a male gynecologist, he assumes thats the reason, and not the fact that youre mortifyingly wet. he tries to calm your nerves by telling you what he'll be doing, he sits right in front of you on his chair and tells you how first he'll examine externally, just checking for anything irregular. then an internal exam with the same purpose, and then finally a physical exam where he will just have to feel your tummy as well as your pelvis to ensure everything is as it should be. totally routine stuff, nothing out of the ordinary, if anything hes far more attentive and careful to make sure youre comfortable. but the way hes saying it, his voice and the way he's looking at you has you clenching your thighs shut and trying to keep yourself from making a puddle on the table.

as he gathers his tools he asks you to place your legs in the stirrups, he sees you struggling a little to get your right leg properly in place, he gently grabs your leg and helps you place it properly. goosebumps cover you leg as he pulls his hand away again. you can feel how wet you are as youre not totally exposed to him, dripping wet, youve been less wet when hooking up with people. this is just from interacting with him briefly, really its embarrassing. hes so sweet asking if everythings alright, and if he can do anything to help you relax. and after squeezing your eyes shut and holding your breath for a second you finally get out that you just feel like youre really wet, and youre not youre not sure why, this doesnt usually happen. hes so sweet, trying to reassure you, telling you its perfectly normal. its a natural response from your body, if anything its a sign that youre healthy!

hes not lying, he really does mean what hes saying, it is good and it is normal. but hes never seen anyone be quite this wet during an appointment in his office. youre soaked, its practically dripping onto the table and forming a puddle. if he was sporting a semi under the table he might have referred you to a different doctor. but youre so pretty he cant help himself.

he really does try his best to stay professional and not let his attraction crack through and distract from his work. but fuck youre so tight around his latex covered fingers when hes doing the exam. and you only squeeze down tighter when he tries to reassure you, tell you youre doing good. its making it hard for him to focus on the task at hand. it takes everything in him to keep his hands from drifting and moving to find those sweet spots inside of you. he doesnt have to deprive himself for long tho as he accidentally brushed against your gspot. his cheeks turn bright pink as he hears a tiny moan escape your lips. and youd been so good at keeping them in the whole time too. but this one couldnt be contained. he stays good, doesnt say anything, just carries on with his work. but he almost lets out a moan of his own as he sees the ring of cream gathered around his gloved fingers.

he takes his work very seriously and he doesnt take the idea of losing his medical license due to malpractice lightly, so he wouldnt be just giving in to his urges. his resolve breaking doent come lightly, its a big deal to him. he goes home that day and jerks off in the shower while thinking about you, he knows exactly what your pussy looks like, what it feels like, how soaking wet you got for him. he cums again in his bed and humps his mattress while dreaming about you. he wakes up and decided he needs to see you again. asks his assistant to set up another appointment with you. when he asks what for, he stutters and says something about needing to do some tests just to be sure of something. hes lying, obviously, but he needs to see you again. he cant stop thinking about your tight little cunt...

-🐞

ladybug your mind amazes me... <3

He can't risk medical malpractice, and he really is a good doctor, he loves his work, he wants to help people. And he's really never, ever reacted this way to a patient before, but god, he can't get you out of his mind.

So maybe he schedules a follow up for a week later. Maybe his heart is racing and his palms sweat when he walks into the examination room and sees you in the little fabric gown, hands in your lap, worrying your lip between your teeth.

He feels like a nervous teenager on a first date, not a fucking healthcare professional.

He listens to you speak about your concerns, walks through your test results from the week prior. Everything looks good, he says. Nothing felt abnormal, your body is working just how it's supposed to. Do you have any questions for me?

You shake your head, sweet and shy, aching for an excuse to get his hands on you again, but running low on things you can ask for.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

Hello!! Love your writing!! If the Yandere Outlaw's darling ever escapes from him somehow (probably after some time), do you think he would pursue them or leave them be? Would he kidnap someone else??

Thank you kindly for writing in, my Sweet ! It brings me boundless joy to know that you enjoy my works ^^

To answer your question, if — and that’s a monumental if — you managed to escape the Outlaw, he is entirely unwilling to let you go.

Be it a day, a month, years after your escape, Yandere! Outlaw will scour the Earth until he finds you. Sure, he may kidnap the odd person here and there who bears your likeness to…satisfy his needs, but they never hold a candle to you. Your face, your smile — fleeting as it may have been in his presence — your wit; everything that made you, you, cannot be replicated. And the Outlaw knows this.

This is what makes him one of the deadliest yanderes you can encounter in the wild; he is relentless. Restless in your absence, feral when you’re near. You’re the only person who’s ever made Yandere! Outlaw feel. And that is what keeps him hot on your tail, no matter how far you flee.

Masterlist Yandere AI Masterlist Masterpost

AO3 Wattpad

[gor3-hound]

meant to be yours

ft. leon kennedy x fem!reader

cw: 18+ content, dead dove, unwilling cannibalism - reciever doesn't know! self-mutilation. obsessive, creepy, delusional reader. no real sex but masturbation n fantasies. very little smut and also a lil vomit.

a/n: idk why, but i... could not get this out of my head. been writing this the past few hours n it's now 1am... all i'm gonna say is read at your own discretion

word count: 1.9k words

There wasn't much good in your life. Not really. You'd never been one to talk much. No family, no friends. You spent most of your life working, dropping out of school, and saving money from a young age in order to pursue your one true passion - baking.

Opening up your own shop was hard. You went hungry most nights in order to skim a little cash from your dead-end job to be able to afford the down payment. But it worked. You had your own bakery, and business was booming.

For once in your life, you felt happy.

The day Leon came into the bakery for the first time changed everything. A festering desire found its way into your mind, an itch that wouldn't leave. He was your soul mate, you knew it. He was the sweetest thing you'd ever seen. So pure and untouched.

He made your skin crawl. You needed to be closer to him, to corrupt him in a way that no one would ever come close to you. You needed to be his, mind, body and soul. His smile made you nauseous. How many others had received that same smile?

No. You had to have him in a way no one else could.

You started experimenting. Simple things, really. Your love for him was all consuming, and you're sure in time he'd come to understand how much you worshipped him. He'd be appreciative of all you'd done for him once he found out.

It made it all worth it as you carved into your flesh for the first time. Your teeth clamped down on an old leather belt of yours to stiffle your screams, a piece of fabric tied tight around your thigh to slow the bleeding as you cut chunks of your flesh out.

The pain almost made you pass out, but you wouldn't let your weakness get in the way of showing devotion to Leon. You swallowed your bile as it rose up your throat, blinked past the blurriness of your tears.

You did your best to treat the wounds efficiently after. YouTube can only teach you so much, and your hands wouldn't stop shaking, so you couldn't wrap the bandage as tight as you should have. But that was okay. You couldn't go to the hospital, couldn't risk someone stopping your plan.

You swallowed some painkillers and went to bed, content with the knowledge that tomorrow was Saturday. That meant Leon would be coming. You had something really special for him.

You wake up with a hop in your step the next morning despite the excruciating pain you were in. You down more painkillers and pop the pack in your pocket, although it does little to dull your pain.

You grind the carefully harvested flesh down. You had already made the dough which had expanded nicely. This would have to be your best work, after all. You carefully lay out the necessary ingredients, combining them before placing the filling neatly into the dough.

You gather up the edges of the disc you'd made, folding them over the seasoned flesh and tucking them in to form a nice ball. You smile at yourself, feeling like you deserved a pat on the back. Once the egg wash is on, you place them into the oven and glance at the clock.

Perfect timing.

You smile and set up the rest of the bakery for opening. Once the buns are cooked, you take them out and place them in the back. You greet all the customers as friendly as always despite the burning in your thigh and the obsession making itself known in the forefront of your brain.

The closer it gets to Leon's usual entrance time, the more antsy you get. You can't keep still, shifting your weight between your feet as it becomes increasingly more difficult not to snap at every customer that walks in. They were all wasting your time.

Your eyes flick over to the clock on your wall constantly. The quiet ticking makes your eyes twitch and keeps your nerves on edge. You want to rip the clock from the wall and-

“Hey.” Your head snaps to the door. A smile makes its way to your face as you relax. Finally. You lean on the counter, your gaze trailing Leon's face appreciatively.

“Leon. Hi.” You breathe out, all the tension seeping out of your muscles. He makes all the pain you endured worth it, just to see his smile. “The usual?”

He nods softly, and you get to work packing his order. He likes to treat himself to a slice of cake and a pastry at the end of the week. It's the cutest thing ever to you, and you always like to throw in an extra little snack. On the house, of course.

“Hey, I tried something new today. Saved some for my favourite customer. Want to try it?” The festering in your mind returns tenfold. You didn't know what you'd do if he didn't accept. Your mind was screaming at you, wanting nothing more than to see him eat your flesh. To become one with you.

Please. Your mind supplies, your breathing growing shallow as you wait for his reply. The seconds feel like they stretch into hours, your nails digging into your palms and leaving little crescent shaped marks in the flesh.

“Sure! What did you make?” He asks, sweet as ever. The air you suck in after that satisfies your whole body, like the first breath of air after you'd been drowning. Your lungs stop burning, your mind stops screaming.

“I'm trying out some more savoury stuff. Trying to broaden my horizons, you know?” You say with a chuckle, stepping back to retrieve the tray. “I made some pork buns. Saved them just for you. They're all yours, if you like them.”

He lets out a laugh himself, eyes examining the food in front of him. “You're too good to me. These look amazing.”

Take one. Please. Just one.

“Ah, it's nothing.” You say causally, your eyes locked on his hands as they reach out for one of the buns. Your heart beats faster, feeling like it's about to break free past the cage of your ribs. “You're an officer. Just giving back.”

“Oh, is that what it is?” He says with an amused smile, finally picking up one of them.

Yesyesyesyes. Just a little longer.

It takes every ounce of willpower in you not to make a noise as he takes a bite. It's even harder to keep a neutral expression as he chews it, his eyes widening slightly. He swallows the bite, looks at you and grins. You lean forward, watching with morbid curiosity as his Adam's apple bobs, picturing the chunks of your flesh sliding down his throat.

“Wow! These are, like… really good. You should definitely start selling them.” He compliments, taking another bite. You watch him finish up the bun with increasing interest, your eyes practically sparkling with joy and your pussy throbbing with need.

“That's, um…” Your words come out shaky, so you clear your throat and try again. “Thank you. That means a lot. I'm really glad you liked it.”

“Did you need anything else today? Or is that all?” You ask politely, your hands idly brushing the edge of the counter - desperate for something, anything to ground you as you wait for his response. The anticipation was enough to drive you mad with desire, but you had to stay composed.

If only Leon could understand how much you truly wanted him. How much you needed him to see you, to really see you, not just look at you. What you'd do for him to touch you. Consume you. Become one with you.

“No, no. I think that's it.” He says with a head tilt, not looking unlike a puppy in that moment. You want to keep him in a little room, safe from the cruelty in the world. Maybe a cute little display case you dust off every day.

“Alright, no problem, then.” You say as you start to ring up his order, telling him the price and taking the money. “Let me just wrap these up, and you can be on your way.”

With practised ease, you quickly wrapped the ordered items in paper, making sure the wrapping is secure. Once done, you carefully place them into a brown paper bag, double checking everything was intact. Reaching out, you held it out towards Leon, a kind smile on your face as you tried to ignore the aggressive beating of your heart. Your hand shook slightly, yearning for contact. For just a tiny moment of skin on skin. "Here you go.”

“Thank you so much! I'll see you next week.” He tells you as he reaches for the bag, his fingers brushing yours lightly as he takes it, getting ready to leave the bakery.

"Have a wonderful day." You reply, your voice breaking slightly as you watch him walk away. Your eyes follow his form disappearing down the street until he was out of sight before you let out a ragged breath, collapsing against the counter. Today had been... too close. Too much contact. You needed to calm down.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Your mind wanders for the rest of the day, thinking about how satisfying it would be when you were finally his. You'd get him to accept your gifts with open arms. How could he not love you when he'd realised how much you'd sacrificed for him?

You wanted him to dip his tongue in your wounds, to thank you properly for the pain you'd sustained for him. You'd worship every inch of his body, give everything you'd had to him.

Oh, how good it would feel when he sunk his cock into you for the first time. You'd be perfect for him, open up so easily for him. You'd take every inch without complaint, let him fuck you as often as he wanted.

Maybe he'd sink his teeth directly into your neck when he realised how much he craved your flesh. You'd make him crave another taste. The thought made you shiver, arousal pooling into the gusset of your panties, making the fabric stick to you.

You closed up early to return to your apartment. You find your bed instantly, flopping down and stripping within seconds. You shove two fingers deep into your cunt as you pictured Leon fucking you. The sloppy wet noises fill your room as your moans echo off the empty walls.

Your free hand shifts to the wound on your thigh, and you press down harshly. You scream in pain, nausea hitting you instantly at the agonising pain. It's enough to make you cum, your pussy gushing around your fingers. You lean over the edge of the bed, throwing up onto the hardwood floor. You'd deal with it later.

You curl up into a ball, breathing heavily through tears and mucus as the burning sensation worsens. You can barely breathe through the acrid scent assaulting your senses. It was all worth it. You'd tear every muscle fibre of your body apart to show your reverence to Leon. No one can love him like you can.

You wouldn't be content until he devoured you whole. Not until your souls became intertwined and you were sure you'd plague his thoughts like he had plagued yours. His teeth would sink deep into the flesh of your still beating heart, and only then would he understand the extent to which you adored him.

His innocent appearance meant nothing when he could ruin you so completely with one simple look. One touch. One smile.

He already had.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hi, hope you're having a good day/afternoon/evening. Do you write stuff about Hellboy? If yes, could you plesase do gn!verytall!reader x Nuada, where he takes a dislike on them, but somehow catches feelings, but he can't and will not accept that and reader don't know why they're locked in their dungeons and just wait for their death. Nuada has a goal: eliminate all humans. However, he doesn't know if he should include reader. If you're not into Hellboy, forget I asked anything. I like your prompts by the way.

What’s up with me and liking these kinds of characters…I guess we’ll never know. 🦦

It probably wasn’t your smartest move in separating from the group to pursue a lead in finding prince Nuada on your own because whatever delusion you were riding on at the time that made you think that you stood a chance at besting him. A man who’s movements were as fast, swift and as fluid as a cold breeze.

It might as well be considered a death sentence to fight Nuada on your own. Something you should’ve taken into consideration for as soon after your brief one sided fight, which had Nuada dominating for most of it. But instead of delivering the killing blow with his lance, Nuada had decided to take you as a prisoner and had you flung into one of his dungeons until you friends come to retrieve you or for death to greet you first; So while you waited for either outcome, you began trying to find creative ways as to entertain yourself.

Meanwhile Nuada was finding himself to be at odds with himself over his resolve but mostly over you, a pathetic, greedy, hollow human being. No better then the others in his eyes and yet Nuada found his feelings of resentment, anger and anguish he held towards the human race, having dwindled the moment your eyes met his as he held his lance closely to your throat. Nuada knew that he could’ve finished you off like he had done to countless others but why were you the one to make him falter, to question his resolve, his purpose and cast an ember of warmth within his heart?

What made you so special in comparison to the others, whom he had so easily had snuffed the lives from? Why was it that throughout your fight did he not take full advantage of your openings, your weaknesses then and there? Nuada was given so many golden opportunities to rid himself of yet another filthy human, but something deep down inside was telling him to not bring you any more harm than he already had. Naturally Nuada assumed it was some magical trickery that you possessed in order to mess with his mind, however it was documented that you had no such gifted ability like Liz; You were just an ordinary human like any other who thought they couldn’t do no wrong, while simultaneously standing by and doing nothing to bring about change in the nature of your people.

This only proved to piss and confuse Nuada even more. You were rotting in his dungeons and yet you still manage to haunt his mind like a ghost. Hell he could visualise you so vividly and so real within his own head, making sure to get every feature of yours right, that he could almost reach out and actually touch you and be able to feel the warmth of your skin against his fingertips, feeling your muscles move beneath his touch, followed by your sharp inhale at the unsuspecting contact from him.

You distracted Nuada from what he felt was most important, form what he set out to do and he wasn’t one to leave any unfinished business, not when he was close to achieving his ultimate goal in eradicating all mankind, so much so that he could practically taste it on his tongue. However there was a slight problem with that, for if he were to eradicate all humans, that would naturally include you in that; The one human who had made a home within his unwilling heart and he didn’t know what to make of it because once again he was heavily conflicted, for his heart had grown to find some semblance of enjoyment within your company, much to his dismay.

‘How could I have allowed myself to become so weak!’ Nuada hissed to himself as his once relaxed hands became fists within a blink of an eye. ‘My head and heart have both betrayed me with their conjoined weakness towards that..human.’ He adds bitterly, adamant in even uttering the word human. It felt both vile and wrong to Nuada in naming those who’s inherent greed and corruption had put him in his current position; He felt as though he was doing a disservice to his own people for feeling any kind of way towards the enemy, and yet his heart couldn’t help but become more and more intrigued by you.

Had things played out a little differently just what would your relationship with him be? His heart would wonder aloud.

They’re a human, you fool! There will never be a relationship between them and us, for we’d only end with a knife within our backs. Nuada’s mind would reply, not wanting to ever show an ounce of weakness towards the enemy, not when he was so fucking close to finishing it.

It was within your human nature to be cruel, to lack empathy, kindness and compassion and yet Nuada felt an uncertainty in whether or not he wanted you dead with the rest of humanity. Would it be considered hypocrisy if he were to keep you alive while everyone else is dead? Maybe but he would deal with the consequences of his actions for a later date.

For now he had to confront you about how you’ve made him feel recently.

[daisystwistedgarden]

a/n: heavily inspired by "i look in people's windows"-- aka, my fav holiday song atp

riddle rosehearts looks in people's windows.

the thick layer of snow covering sage's island is a leaden blanket upon the sounds of the evening, making the already half-empty street seem more barren than he expected. his boots crunch with each step as he trots along the sidewalk alone. puffs of his breath curl from his lips in the frigid air. each breath fogs up his glasses-- his first winter with them, after his dormmates scolded him for stubbornly refusing to acknowledge how his vision had started to fail him-- and he wipes at them, resigned to a half-blurry walk back to campus.

the island is quiet. most everyone is home for winter break. tonight is christmas eve. not even the staff remain on the island, leaving a smattering of students with no plans to linger in the dorms. riddle holds his head high as he volunteers to stay and do his rounds to make sure everyone left is safe over the break-- maybe if he keeps his eyes forward, he can avoid the sideways glances from his peers who know why he's alone for the holiday.

it all happened so fast. something welled up inside of him one evening, like a cancer or poison or hope, a defiance in which he confronted his mother about his dreams to pursue law. it was the first time he found himself wholly unreasonable when talking to his mother, unwilling to hear her try to force him to pursue whatever life plan she'd laid out in front of him. rebellion was satisfying. a weight had been lifted off of his chest as he was finally true to himself, his desires for the future.

he was cut off by his mother before the sun rose.

his first holiday alone feels hollow. it was to be expected, he supposed, but the awkward shame doesn't stop gathering in his throat just because he knew it was coming. the pitying glances feel like flames licking at his heels. he hates this feeling. the holidays had never been all that enjoyable growing up-- stiff, unemotional, just like the rest of his upbringing-- but at least he had a home to return to then.

christmas lights twinkle from houses lining the street on his way back to campus. the strawberry tart in his bag was a small treat to make the holiday special, but it felt heavy and awkward in the paper bag tucked under his arm, like a white flag of surrender. dessert for one. a signal that someone will wake up alone, celebrate alone, as the year draws to a close.

riddle's eyes catch movement in an open window. the curtains are pulled back, revealing a group gathering around a dining table. all at once, the heartache of the past few months begins to hit.

you went home. your home. some foreign land he'd never heard of, completely removed from twisted wonderland. he hears your voice when he's alone, the quivers and catches as your said your goodbyes on a loop as he makes tea or studies in the library. you disappeared into the mirror. alone. never to be heard from again. he watched his underclassmen put on a brave face, thinking to himself about how pitiful they looked with glossy eyes and twisted grimaces-- hypocritical, knowing he must look the same.

you're a staple in his thoughts. the magicless prefect, back in their magicless world, reunited with friends and family after you were whisked away into an unfamiliar world. are you happy? healthy? do you miss the life you had? in his fantasies, you yearn to return to the way things were, to wake up one morning in your bedroom in ramshackle and trot across campus with that same aloof look he'd come to recognize you for. you'd be home.

the group around the table continues with their lighthearted chatter trapped behind the icy window pane. riddle's heart thumps against his chest. he doesn't even realize he has stilled where he stands, staring hard into a stranger's home like some deranged weirdo.

what if it was possible to see you again?

he grasps at the thought so hard that the tart in hand is unknowingly squished in a moment of fervor. his mind projects the image of you on these strangers. maybe you'd come into view with a wine glass in hand, laughing over some joke he can't hear and enjoying the smell of dinner cooking in someone's oven nearby. a christmas party in full swing, yet you'd peer outside, fuzzy from the liquor and missing someone, to spot a familiar redhead just outside with foggy glasses and the most intense stare you've ever seen.

what if your eyes looked up and met his one more time?

a/n two: happy holidays to anyone who might be on their own this christmas. may your day be peaceful and full of little joys that make the day special in its own way <3

[zekepng]

𝐂𝐀𝐓 & 𝐌𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

Being unleashed into the forest with a murder chasing you, you have the choice of fighting or flying. Fighting was always his favourite, yet the chase was always yours because you knew what would happen once he caught you.

Ghost face one shot, (TW) - knifeplay, punishment, spanking, fingering, rough sex, explicit content

Ao3 Link

Author's note: I wrote this for fun, so apologies for it being very short

The ominous forest stretches out as far as the eye can see. Lost and disoriented, the darkness obscures any sense of direction, leaving you feeling vulnerable and uncertain. 

A sense of anticipation fills the air as the sound of footsteps reverberates through the dense forest, abruptly ceasing.

You feel the impact of your body against the coarse bark of the tree, trying to catch your breath as silently as possible. Trembling with fear, you raise your hand to your mouth, unsure of how to evade the clutches of a murderer. 

Little did he know, the pursuit was always your favourite. 

Amidst the barren tree branches, a faint light beckons, while the resounding thud of sturdy boots draws nearer with each passing moment. With each step getting closer, you can feel your heart racing, as if it's ready to burst out of your chest. 

Even though you're both alone in the forest, the sound of heavy breathing can be heard right away making you question whether it’s him or not. 

You remain completely still, except for your eyes, as you vigilantly observe the area to your right. You notice a shiny metallic object that grabs your attention. Without hesitation, you swiftly emerge from your hiding spot behind the tree and deliver a swift strike to his shin with your right foot. 

The unexpected events take him by surprise, evident in his physical reactions. As he drops to one knee, he thrusts his right hand forward, trying to catch you with the knife. You quickly shift your body, causing you to lose your balance and fall backwards. 

You let out a deep grunt as you collapse onto the ground, giving him the opening he's been anticipating. An overwhelming sense of fear engulfs you like a raging inferno, compelling you to desperately claw at the earth and hastily retreat from the figure, who swiftly rises to his feet. 

His imposing presence looms over you, seemingly increasing in height with each passing moment. As he mindlessly wields the knife in his hand, you rely on your only defence—your legs. 

You vigorously kick and flail your legs, desperately trying to push him aside. 

Your right leg somehow manages to rise up and knock the knife out of his hand, sending it soaring into the abyss. Seizing the moment, you rely on your own strength to rise from the ground. As you do, his outstretched arm attempts to pull you closer, but you manage to evade his grasp. 

Confronted by the man who has relentlessly pursued you through the dense forest, you cautiously retreat, unwilling to divert your gaze from him. The mask covering his face has small stains and marks that could be dirt or blood. 

His gaze fixates on you as he carefully observes your expression, finding delight in the fear that seems to be overwhelming you. 

Out of nowhere, he lifts both of his hands up beside him, as if he's almost surrendering. The mysterious figure dons thick black gloves, concealing their true identity as they cautiously lower their fingers. 

You appear perplexed as you observe his fingers steadily falling. You maintain your composure as you cautiously retreat from the man, who suddenly quickens his pace by lowering his fingers. 

He raises a solitary finger, holding it up briefly. He keeps fixating on you, and it's hard not to notice the immense delight it's giving him. 

Out of nowhere, the finger descends, and he unveils something hidden behind his back with his right hand. As he retrieves the object from behind him, he tilts his head in a seemingly taunting manner, leaving you perplexed until another knife materialises in his hand. 

"Run," his voice commands, famous and familiar. 

You quicken your steps, your eyes wide with anticipation, as the man behind you resumes his pursuit, turning the chase into a thrilling game of cat and mouse. 

As soon as you catch sight of him hurrying his steps, you swiftly pivot your body and set your sights on the flickering light in the distance—a captivating new goal. 

You can't help but notice the metallic taste that fills your mouth, causing you to wonder if all that running is taking a toll on your body. The speed at which your feet transport you is truly remarkable. You would have given up a while ago but you were determined to beat your record. 

With each heavy footfall on the unforgiving terrain, a deep tremor reverberates through your being. The sight of an old house, illuminated by flickering light, brings a wave of emotion, almost bringing tears to your eyes. 

The house appears even more menacing than the thing that is pursuing you in the forest. 

As you glance behind you, you desperately hope that he isn't as near as you fear. However, your heart sinks as you catch sight of a gleaming blade hurtling towards you. 

In a matter of seconds, you swiftly manoeuvre your body to evade any potential harm from the menacing blade. Simultaneously, you hold onto hope that the door ahead of you is accessible. 

You instinctively hurl yourself against the door, propelling your body forward. As the door swings open, it nearly propels you into the house, revealing a surprisingly well-decorated interior that stands in stark contrast to the dilapidated exterior. 

In just a matter of moments, your gaze lands upon the staircase situated to your right. You quickly hurry towards the stairs without considering a plan. 

Upon reaching the fifth step, an intense sensation grips your left leg, forcefully dragging you downward. 

You feel a sudden impact as your body collides with the unforgiving stairs, leaving you breathless. The strong exclamation "fuck!" Bursts from your mouth in a rough grunt as you sense yourself being pulled down the steps. 

An intense and noticeable pain spreads through your entire body, as if it originates from deep within your veins. 

He releases his grip on your foot and grabs your thigh while twisting your shoulder to guide your body to turn over. You struggle against his grasp, but in the midst of the struggle, he brandishes a knife, aiming to strike. 

The sharp blade grazes your cheek, leaving behind a vivid crimson mark. 

You vigorously strike him with your hands while wiggling your legs free of his grasp. The male pulls you further down towards him, leaving you trapped beneath him and before he has the chance to do anything else to you, you bring your knee towards your chest and throw it into his stomach. 

With a heavy grunt, he gets choked up and releases his grip on you. You shove the male away from you and watch as he trips down the few short stairs, giving you time to climb up the remainder. 

“You’re going to regret that, bitch,” you hear him call out from below but you don’t waste a second. 

Three doors catch your attention as you reach the top of the stairs, each one identical to the other. You run towards the furthest one and pray there will be a way to escape somehow. 

As you slam the door behind you, an object stops it from closing. Looking down to the ground, you notice his foot is wedged between the gaps, preventing you from shutting him out. You grunt and huff as you try to force him out. 

Suddenly, using all of his weight, he knocks the door wide open, sending you flying back. Your body smashes against a dresser, causing everything to slide off. Without seeing his face, you can tell from his body language that a large smirk is evident on his features because he knows he has you. 

He lunges towards you, blocking your exit. As you go to protect yourself by raising your fist towards him, he harshly wraps his digits around your exposed skin and slams you against the wall using all his force. A wince escapes your lips while you try to calm yourself down. 

“Caught you,” his heavy tone whispers like smooth butter. With no warning, he trails his knife along your exposed thigh, inching higher and higher but stopping just before your thong. “You’re getting faster,” he praises. 

He presses his knife against your clothed clit, causing your breath to hitch because he’s teasing you the way he knows you like it, “but not fast enough.”

"You cheated," you accuse, breathless. Struggling against his hold on your hands, you refuse to give in as he strengthens his grasp. "You knew I was going to run into here.” you declare.

He inclines his head as he uses his knee to gently widen the space between your legs. "You had the option to continue running, but instead, you chose the simpler path." Every nerve in your body tingles as his voice resonates, while the blade gently glides over your skin.

Your head moves in a cautious manner, aware of the sharp object tracing your face.

"And due to your actions, I’m going to have to punish you like the slut you are.” His demeanour undergoes a complete transformation, leading to a shift in his tone. Suddenly, without warning, he forcefully hurls your body away from the wall and onto the floor.

Caught off guard, a grunt escapes your lips as you hit the chilly ground. You can't help but notice the imposing figure before you, starting from his sturdy boots and moving up to his mysterious mask, making you feel a lump in your throat.

Gradually, he approaches you, observing your every move as though you were a defenceless creature.

"Get on your knees," he orders as he halts in front of you.

You gaze at him for a few moments, your heart pounding in your chest, uncertain of his next move. Out of nowhere, his sizable hand grabs onto your hair, making you flinch as he lifts you up from the ground until you're on your knees.

With a firm hold on your hair, he leans in closer to your face. “You better start fucking listening, otherwise I won’t be happy.”

In an instant, he releases his hold on your head and begins to unbuckle his trousers. Even though you've been in this situation countless times, a wave of nerves still washes over you.

As he removes his trousers, you are met with the noticeable shape in his boxers. He seizes the band and yanks it down, allowing his thick cock to spring free. 

Innocently, you stare up at him, feeling a wave of nervousness wash over you.

His cock appears larger than you recall. The tip is a bubblegum pink with two prominent veins running down the base, seemingly twitching at you, eager to be savoured.

As you look into his eyes, you gently grasp his cock and move in to kiss his tip. You tantalise him by gently swirling your wet tongue around his tip and along his slit, eliciting a deep grunt from his mouth.

As you focus on him, you withdraw and watch as the saliva from your lips falls into your hand. You caress his cock, lubricating it with saliva, and then proceed to take him into your mouth.

A sharp hiss escapes his lips as you once again sense his large hand grabbing onto your hair. He forces your head forward, making his tip reach the back of your throat.

Your eyes widen as you gag with his cock in your mouth. His head tilts back, as he treats you like a puppet, controlling your movements as you struggle. Your face glistens with saliva; tears well up in your eyes as he reaches the back of your throat, yet you remain fixated on him.

He stares down at you as you perform the intimate act. “Look at you, sucking my cock like the whore you are."

He moves your head away from his cock, giving you a moment to catch your breath before thrusting it back into your mouth. The room fills with gags and grunts as he rocks your head faster, signalling his closeness.

"Fuck," he grunts softly as he keeps thrusting into your mouth. He manipulates your head as if you're a puppet controlled by his desires.

He relentlessly mistreats your mouth while muttering curses under his breath. You sense his throbbing cock pulsating in your mouth and with one last thrust, your mouth starts to fill with a heated fluid that shows no sign of stopping.

You try to swallow it, but there's just too much coming out.

He withdraws his cock from your lips, and as he does, some of his release begins to trickle out, flowing down your chin.

“You’re such a fucking mess,” he remarks, running his thumb along your chin to gather the spilled fluid. Suddenly, he pushes his thumb into your mouth, ensuring not a drop is wasted.

He removes his hands from his gloves and tosses them aside. As he walks behind you, he tightly grips your hair strands and pulls you back. Whimpers escape your lips, fueling his excitement.

Suddenly, your body is forcefully pulled towards the bed, but he halts just before you make contact. He abandons you on the floor as he settles into the bed. “Stand up and strip,” he orders.

Gradually, you rise from the ground and position yourself a couple of metres away from him. Feelings of excitement and anticipation surge through you as you begin to remove your top. Tossing the fabric to the side of the room, you then lower your skirt to the floor.

Even with the mask concealing his face, you sense his gaze absorbing every detail of your form.

As you step out of your skirt, you nervously wait for his next words, "everything."

You reach behind yourself to unhook your bra, letting it slip off your arms and land on the floor. Sensations of exposure and vulnerability wash over you as you slide your thong down your legs until it falls to the ground.

“Get down on all fours,” he orders, making your eyebrows furrow together in confusion.

"Wha-" you begin to say, but he swiftly tilts his head at you—a clear warning.

Biting your tongue, you carefully lower yourself to the ground. You kneel and place your hands in front of you, seeking reassurance from him. You notice a slight nod, indicating his desires.

He commands, "“Crawl to me.” His deep and alluring voice whispers those words, “And when you reach me, you’re going to climb onto my lap.” 

You find yourself engulfed in a whirlwind of uncertainty, unable to even consider protesting against him. Following orders, you begin to move towards the man, his attention never leaving you.

Fortunately, the proximity isn't far, but you proceed cautiously, suspecting it might have aroused him.

You grasp his thighs and then climb onto his lap with your exposed body. With your arms around his shoulders, you straddle his lap, anticipating his next move.

He moves in closer to your ear and softly murmurs, "Good girl."

As the two words escape his lips, you’re met with a bundle of pleasure, taking you by surprise. His thumb gently caresses your sensitive clit in a circular motion as his fingers explore your inner folds, whispering, "You're always so wet for me."

All at once, his fingers slide into your wet pussy, prompting you to clutch his shoulders and bite your lower lip, nearly breaking the skin.

As gentle whimpers try to break free from your lips, his fingers delve further into you. You move your hips against his, breathing heavily. "P-please..."

“Do you want another finger, baby?” He asks while curving his two thick fingers against your walls.

You nod eagerly, aware that speaking will reduce you to a whimpering wreck.

Without a second thought, he slides two additional fingers into you. Your fingers grip his shoulders tightly as you let out a moan of ecstasy, causing him to savour every moment, “H-holy fuck,” 

He softly murmurs, "I wish you could see yourself dripping down my hand, you slut," almost pushing you to the brink.

“Fuck me,” you exclaim as you keep grinding your hips against him. "P-please..." Your words fade into a soft sound of pleasure as you try to communicate.

"P-please fuck me," you finally manage to plead.

With a single fluid motion, he withdraws his fingers from you and pulls you close as he rises to his feet. He swiftly repositions you on the bed, facing you downward with your ass facing him.

A sudden jolt of pain reverberates through your body when his hand makes contact with your ass. Sensations intensify as he glides his cock between your folds, making you nearly plead for more.

As you open your mouth to speak, a sudden, intense, choked up moan flees from your throat as his thick cock enters your tight pussy. With his head tilting back, he murmurs, "I forgot how tight you are,"

You grip the comforter tightly as you sense him thrusting into you. He quickly increases his speed, building up tension inside you, leading to muffled moans escaping your lips.

“You love my cock fucking your tight pussy, don’t you?” His voice is tense as he poses the question, and when you struggle to reply, he smacks your ass and then forcefully pulls your hair to lift your head.

You nod with tears in your eyes and whisper, "Yes, yes, I do."

“Because you’re my fucking slut,” he grunts as he intensifies his movements inside you. 

[hyperfixatedoncrimminalminds]

Spencer Reid x Autistic son reader

So sorry for taking so long to write this oneshot!

Requested by : Larri6ox

Request: Spencer is a dad to a 14 year old boy he is autistic and someone was stalking Spencer and yn one day after school he gets kidnapped Spencer was spiraling and the team searched for yn while that was going on yn was tied to a pole beaten and tasered it took the team 4 days to find yn Spencer ripped to the ropes off yn while the rest took down the unsub yn clung to his dad crying and overwhelmed he couldn't even speak Spencer comforted yn as the paramedics fixed him up yn slept in Spencer's arms when they got home yn was to scared to sleep by himself around 3 am yn woke up screaming from a nightmare Spencer woke up and held yn to comfort him yn was muttering about an accident Spencer got the hint that yn wet himself Spencer calms him down and helps yn get cleaned up they slept on the couch watching Tom and Jerry.

This is a long request, hope you like it.

Third person pov...

In the twilight's embrace, as the city buzzed with activity, a sinister plot unfolded, targeting an innocent youth named Y/N.

Y/N Reid was walking home from school when he found himself the unwilling target of a sinister stalker. Unbeknownst to him, a shadowy figure had been pursuing Special Agent Spencer Reid's beloved child, leaving Y/N vulnerable.

On that fateful day, as Y/N strolled home along the familiar path, a sudden chill ran down his spine.

A figure emerged from the darkness, his movements purposeful and menacing. Y/N's heart pounded with fear as he realized he was being followed.

Panic consumed him as he broke into a desperate run, his small legs carrying him as fast as he could.

But the unsub, his relentless pursuer, was closing in. The air grew thick with terror as Y/N's cries for help went unanswered. "Help me! Please!" He cries though knowone could hear him.

In a secluded alleyway, the unsub lay in wait. With a swift and ruthless move, he snatched Y/N and disappeared into the night.

Spencer, at his wits' end with worry, spiraled into a desperate search. The BAU team rallied around him, leaving no stone unturned.

Bound and helpless, he was tethered to a desolate pole, his body wracked with pain from relentless beatings and electric shocks. The cruel tormentors lingered nearby, their twisted minds devising further atrocities.

The unsub laughed as the boys screamed echoes through the dark warehouse.

The piercing screams of the taser echoed through the desolate space, leaving his body battered and broken. Fear gnawed at his soul as he endured unimaginable pain.

Y/N thought of his dad, he thought how he wouldn't give up on him, he knew he would save him he had too.

For days, the BAU searched tirelessly, their hearts heavy with each passing hour, Y/Ns absence tugged at their very souls. Especially Spencer, the man had forgot to sleep, eat.

He never left the bullpen he his only thought was Y/N, he had to find his son, then finally on the fourth day, a breakthrough emerged from the darkness. A tip led them to the warehouse where the H/C boy was being held captive.

With lightning speed, Spencer raced through the labyrinthine corridors, his determination fueled by the desperate hope of finding his child alive. As he burst into the warehouse, a sight met his eyes that sent shivers down his spine.

A pipe stood in the middle of the dark room, the smell was awful filled with sweat and dried blood. His eyes filled with anger. "Y/N!" He yells racing over to the likp body.

"Don't be dead don't be dead" he muttered as he neared the limp body of his Son.

Y/N was tied to the pole, his body bruised and battered, hung helpless from the pole. Spencer's heart shattered as he ripped the ropes from his son's frail body.

The boy fell limply into his Dad's arms, Spencer quickly covered the boy and held him tightly. "Shush shush its okay Baby, I'm here I'm here " he mumbled in the H/C hair dried blood stuck to the strands.

He held his son in his arms, the boy shaking as if it was winter, the agent could tell his was overwhelmed and didn't push him to talk only happy that he was alive.

As the boy was cut from his bonds the rest of the team swiftly apprehended the unsub, their rage a palpable force in the air.

Spencer held his precious boy close, offering him a safe haven from the nightmare he had endured, he continued to carry the boy out of the warehahouse and outside where the paramedics were waiting, they had been called before hand.

As they worked Spencer held his son, the boy had found solace in the gentle presence of his protector, grateful he was safe and finally not being hurt.

The warmth of his dad's arms and the gentle sway of their bodies brought a sense of serenity amidst the turmoil, he fell into the light sleep.

Back at home, it took Spencer a few hours to get the boy to sleep, Y/N had been on edge and awake for four days straight, but once he was asleep it was almost 1am, Spencer kept the door open slightly so he would hear if the boy had a nightmare.

The man situated himself in the living room, on the sofa he sat with a book in his hands, hearing any sounds that came from his son's room, he was ready to leap up and go to his son if he needed.

Hours later he awoke with a scream of pure anguish, A nightmare had gripped him, his body jerking and his voice filled with anguish as he whispered of an accident.

Tangled in his sheets he attempted to run but couldn't, bejng stuck reminded him of the ropes.

After hearing the scream Spencer had leaped from the sofa throwing his book away he ran to his Son room, throwing the door open he saw the boy was stuck, the covers had wrapped around his ankle.

Seeing the problem Spencer quickly unwrapped the blanket trapping the boy, leg now free Y/N woke up fully.

Looking around breathing heavy. "Daddy!" He cries hands out reaching for his Dad, Spencer quickly sat down next to the boy and pulled him into his arms.

"It's okay N/N, it's me its Dad" at that Y/N relaxed and slumped into the man's arms, Spencer rubbed his back before pulling the boy into his arms, appealing enought pressure that made Y/N feel safe.

After a few minutes Spencer tried to get Y/N to release him but the boy wouldn't budge. "Y/N, is something wrong?" He whispers, the boy nods his head. He mutters something into his Dad's shoudler.

The young Dr is confused before he sees the wet ost where his son was sleeping, he then realises, comforting the boy he clean up the remnants of his nightmare, changing his soiled clothes and tending to his shaken body.

Once he was done Y/N still wouldn't let go of him, realising he was still scared Spencer took him to the living room. He also grabbed numerous pillows and soft blankets for them and set them on the sofa.

As they settled back on the couch, Reid held Y/N close, his heart aching with both love and protectiveness, he put on Y/Ns favourite cartoon Tom and Jerry.

Together, they drifted off to sleep on the couch, Spencer laying his back to the arm of the sofa, on top rest his son tucked into his chest breathing normal, no longer shaking from the nightmare, the animated antics of Tom and Jerry providing a soothing backdrop to their weary minds.

The end!

Finished hoped you liked this oneshot so sorry for the wait, as usual sorry for any grammar and Spelling mistakes!

Requests are open!

Word count : 1365

[parkjayist]

ESSENCE OF ROMANCE: FLOUR(sour) START - CHPT. 1

sum park jongseong is in denial, but the truth is undeniable: he's hit a dead end. how can he maintain his title as a world renowned chemist if he can't even advance his own research? meanwhile, you, an aspiring chemist, have faced constant belittlement from your male colleagues as you pursue your own groundbreaking research in isolation. when jongseong finds you conducting experiments in HIS own lab, he's enraged. he's enveloped in fury when he realizes that you two are trying to research the same topic. yet, buried beneath his rage lies a deep sense of desperation, and he's willing to do anything to finally finish his research he's been putting off for so many years. perhaps you're the missing piece in his research (and life).

pairing chemist!park jongseong x female chemist!reader

genre written series, slowburn, angst, fluff, " enemies " to lovers, coworkers au, 1960s au, smarty pants x smarty pants

warnings misogyny, stereotypes, awkwardness, some basic chemistry explanations in dialogue, irrational behavior, arguing

an hii! first chapter and they're already fighting!! i'm planning to make the 2nd chapter a little longer. tysm for all the support on this series so far!! i hope to hear your feedback/thoughts on it throughout the process of this series :D

wc 1.8k SERIES MASTERLIST

park jongseong always despised when people barged into his lab. the quiet whispers of his name and the staring of his coworkers burned into his chest. his lab was a sanctuary, a haven where he could indulge in his experiments without the intrusion of others. so when he discovered a stranger trespassing amidst his equipment, his irritation surged like an overheated bunsen burner.

“what the hell do you think you’re doing in my lab?” 

"um, it's not what you think," you stuttered, your nerves evident as you spoke in shaky voice.

jongseong's brow furrowed in annoyance. "then what, pray tell, is it?" he snapped, his impatience seeping through. “the one day i accidentally leave my lab open, a random secretary comes in. who knows, what if you blew something up?” he sighed, throwing his hands up in exasperation. 

inconceivable hypocrisy, you thought. what’s truly unsafe is his negligence, leaving random items around in his lab …

"look, i'm not a secretary," you retorted, frustration evident in your tone. "my name is (___  ___), i'm a chemist, just like you. and i certainly didn't come in here to blow anything up. i needed materials for my own research."

jongseong's brow furrowed further, skepticism etched across his features. "sure you are," he scoffed, his impatience palpable. "trying to save face now, are we? well, regardless of who you are, you shouldn't be in here. you could have put yourself and this entire laboratory in danger!"

with that, jongseong turned on his heel and stormed out of the lab, leaving you to fume in his wake. you let out an exasperated huff. men nowadays, you mused to yourself. so ignorant and unwilling to listen to anyone but themselves.

as you cleaned up your lab space, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of resentment towards jongseong. after all, it wasn't your fault that he had left his lab unlocked, nor was it fair for him to place the blame squarely on your shoulders. nevermind that – you’d have to deal with him another day.

the following day, park jongseong was sought out to the main secretary yu jimin, determined to rectify the intrusion which had thrown a wrench into his research. as soon as jimin saw jongseong walk over – she immediately got up, opening her mouth to greet him when he interrupted her. 

“you need to keep your secretaries out of my lab,” he demanded, his tone tinged with irritation. “one of them, miss … miss (___), was in there last night without my permission.”

jimin arched an eyebrow, seemingly unimpressed with jongseong’s sudden burst of anger. “oh, miss (___) isn’t a secretary, she’s a lab technician. although she likes to call herself a chemist…” she trailed off with a shrug. 

jongseong stood there in silence for a few seconds as his cheeks burned with embarrassment. “oh .... well, um … that’s good to know,” he mumbled, his pride wounded by his rash actions.

at lunchtime, you quickly got out your lunch and your notebook. today’s lunch was a freshly baked croissant with two egg tarts. you took a bite out of the egg tart– crispy yet soft in the inside, you noted. you quickly wrote your thoughts down into your notebooks, taking another bite of the tart. you hummed happily, satisfied with the hard work you put into baking these yesterday. suddenly, you hear a chair in front of you being pulled back, the noise of someone dragging it grating your ears. any remnants of contentment from your meal dissipated instantly, replaced by a surge of tension. he looked at you sheepishly as you tilted your head sideways as if to ask for him to speak. 

his expression suddenly turned contrite, and he took a deep breath before saying, “i think i owe you an apology. i’m sorry for the way i snapped at you last night – i was just stressed and caught off guard. if you couldn’t tell from everyone whispering around, i haven’t been able to do much in the lab,” he looked down at his arms, ashamed of his past actions. 

you glanced at him, your gaze meeting his before you felt the need to quickly remove your eyes from him. “oh, okay,” you replied nonchalantly, your tone betraying little emotion.

jongseong blinked at you, unsure of how to proceed. finally taking a seat, he couldn’t help but notice the tantalizing aroma wafting from your lunch. he felt his stomach grumble, a reminder of his own neglected meal. 

“wow, that looks really good,” he remarked, his eyes lingering on the croissant. 

you looked up, a faint smile playing on your lips. “thanks,” your tone softening slightly. “i made it myself.”

you pulled off a small chunk of the croissant, holding it out on your palm for jongseong to take. he stared at it before waving his hands telling you to eat it yourself. 

“i possibly couldn’t,” he said, “you should eat your own lunch.”

however, you were not convinced and continued to hold it out for him. "i insist," you replied, holding it out to him once more.

eventually, he gave into the aroma of the food, taking it and quickly shoving it into his mouth. his eyebrows shot up in surprise as he nodded furiously, unspoken approval of your baking. you noticed how his eyes sparkled with satisfaction, almost letting out a chuckle at his childlike behavior. 

“this is– this is amazing,” he exclaimed, his words slightly muffled. 

“well, it’s all thanks to chemistry,” you explained, a spark of enthusiasm igniting within you. “the role of chemicals and molecules in baking is extremely important,” you leaned in closer, eager to share your knowledge. “take flour, for instance. it's not just a simple ingredient; the complex network of proteins and starches interact in fascinating ways during the baking process. that’s how you can create this croissant right here.” 

jongseong leaned forward, intrigued. "proteins and starches? how do they affect the final product?"

"well," you began, "the proteins in flour, specifically gluten, provide structure to baked goods. when you mix flour with water and knead it, you activate the gluten strands, forming a strong, elastic dough. this elasticity gives bread its chewy texture and allows it to rise during baking." 

as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice jongseong's genuine interest, his eyes alight with curiosity. no one has ever been this interested in listening to you – other than your brother. encouraged by his engagement, you continued to talk more about your dishes, even handing him your egg tart to prove the science of cooking. 

jongseong nodded along, his curiosity piqued. "i never realized there was so much science behind baking," he admitted, a hint of awe in his voice.

"it's fascinating, isn't it?" you replied, a smile gracing your lips. "the chemistry of cooking is just as intricate as any lab experiment. it's about understanding the underlying principles and applying them in creative ways."

amidst the lingering silence, jongseong's unexpected question caught you off guard. "so, i was wondering…  what were you trying to research?" he asked, his tone sincere but tinged with careful curiosity. 

you arched an eyebrow, wary of his sudden interest. "what's it to you?" you replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into your voice.

jongseong's expression became more timid as he explained, "well, i believe you're a capable chemist, and i could use some help with my own research."

a suddenly surge of anger welled up within you, hot and fierce. had your lively discussion with jongseong been nothing more than a calculated maneuver to lower your defenses? was he merely seeking to extract valuable research information from you, only to claim it as his own? you should’ve known, from all your experiences trying to make friends, that everyone was bound to try to use you. they never saw you as a companion. 

“miss (___)....?” he waved a hand in front of you, eyebrows furrowed with worry. 

"you've never even seen me in the lab," you pointed out, a touch of frustration coloring your words. "you thought i was just a secretary, not a scientist. how do i know you're not just trying to take advantage of me?"

jongseong's brow furrowed, his confusion evident. "no, why would i do that?" he protested, genuine surprise in his voice.

"are you serious right now?" you snapped, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "why would you suddenly want my help in the lab? just to swoop in and take credit for my work?"

jongseong's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "no, that's not it at all," he protested, his tone pleading. "i genuinely believe we could work well together, and i want to give you the credit you deserve."

you paused, considering his words for a moment before relenting. "okay, fine," you sighed, "i’'m studying abiogenesis."

jongseong's eyes narrowed as a spark of suspicion ignited within him. "abiogenesis? that's what i'm researching too," he stated, his voice tinged with accusation. "did you go into my lab trying to steal my research? is that why you were in there?"

his words hit you like a slap in the face, igniting a firestorm of anger within you. he was so kind a few seconds ago, and now he's accusing you of trying to steal research from him. how dare he insinuate such a thing? the audacity of his accusation sent a surge of indignation coursing through your veins.

with a mixture of disbelief and frustration, you shot back, "are you serious right now? do you honestly believe i would stoop so low as to steal your research? that's absurd and insulting!"

your voice rose with each word, echoing off the sterile walls of the lunch room. everyone around you turned their heads, curious at the sudden burst of sound. you felt eyes burning at the back of your head, yet you could care less. all you could think about was beating park jongseong up.

"but you just admitted you're studying abiogenesis," jongseong countered, his tone defensive yet tinged with uncertainty.

you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "so what? just because we're both studying the same thing doesn't mean i'm out to steal your work. if anything, i could help you with your research, but clearly, that's not what you want."

your frustration boiled over, your words laced with an edge of sarcasm. "congratulations, jongseong, you've managed to push away the one person who could have helped you."

as you packed up your lunch, you pushed your chair back with a sharp screech, shooting him a glare before briskly walking away.

jongseong slumped in his seat, weariness etched into every line of his features. his brow furrowed in frustration, annoyance simmering beneath the surface as he replayed the confrontation with you in his mind. the weight of his desperation hung heavy in the air as he realized just how close he had come to securing someone to assist with his research.

next.

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

tagged: @sophiko22 @minseongsworld @enha-stars

[bitchinbarzal]

Definitely argument while Mama is pregers 🥺😭

Jack had past flings and girlfriends, you knew that.

He pursued you, he begged you to go out with him in the beginning and you made it so clear to him that his dating history made you uncomfortable and unwilling to go out with him.

He promised you that he wouldn’t hurt you, not like that.

Which is why you were left confused when Jack’s iPad kept dinging in the middle of the night while he was away on a roadie.

Your sleep was already disturbed due to the almost eight month old baby you were growing so the noise was less than impressive.

“Shut up” you grumbled, rolling out of the bed and into the living room where the iPad lay.

You pulled the iPad out of the charger and the screen lights up, you look at the notifications all from instagram.

messages from a @laurenkaytee

hey I’m the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

yes that’s me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn’t drink much tho?

yeah babies will do that… BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you’re always welcome in cali 😘

aha, well here’s my number ***-****-*** when you need it

You felt sick. You couldn’t even see his replies, but he was obviously replying.

Tears were in your eyes and tears our hands were shaking with the iPad in your grip.

The tears angrily fell down your face and you felt the baby kick you

Your hand gingerly pressed onto the skin of your bump “I’m okay Stevie, I’m ok babygirl”

You didn’t go back to sleep that night, sitting on the couch and watching re-runs of sitcoms.

It wasn’t until you heard the front door unlock the next morning that you realised time had passed.

“Hey sexy lady! I’m home!”

You didn’t even flinch. Didn’t turn around.

“y/n? Babe? Did you hear me?” He frowns, walking to the couch and you don’t move.

Jack reaches out and touches you, you flinch “don’t touch me”

“What’s up with you? Why didn’t you answer me?”

He then notices the red rims around your eyes

“Baby, have you slept?”

You croak out “No”

“Why not? Stevie girl been keeping you up?”

“No, her dad”

He frowns “What?”

“You, your stupid iPad and your stupid messages to stupid models!”

He’s taken aback “What?!”

You look right into his eyes and choke out “If you want to go fuck models in California, don’t leave your instagram logged in on your iPad in New Jersey”

He’s shaking his head, confused “Fuck — what?”

Standing up you scoff “Just leave me alone Jack, I’m so tired and I can’t be bothered with this”

He watches you struggle to get up and waddle off to your bedroom, finally laying down after not sleeping.

Jack uses that time to grab his aforementioned iPad. He clicks it on and looks through the notifications, scrolling until he lands on instagram

His mouth drops open in an O shape and he hums in understanding

“that girl of mine, always getting herself all worked up” he mumbles and heads off to your room.

He slips in past the door and into your bed, you’re asleep and he knows it’s because you’re exhausted from your mind moving at a million miles a minute.

He gets under the blanket and pulls you into his arms, fingers carding through your hair. You have a frown etched into your features even in your sleep.

“Oh pretty girl, I wish I could take all of your stress”

You groan, tossing and turning. Jack’s hands reach around your back and press into your sore point.

You all but moan in relief, the change in pressure waking you up “J-Jack”

“I’m here princess, is it sore?”

You nod, wincing in pain and before long you remember you’re mad at him and attempt to push him away

“No, no baby don’t do that-“

“Jack get off me! I told you-“

He shushes you “Listen to me, let me show you!”

One hand is still on your back and the other now grabs his phone and pulls up his Instagram DM’s, tilting the phone for you to see

hey I'm the one you spoke to at the bar tonight? I think lol I found you from your friend!

hey, you’re shots of sambucca girl right? you didn’t look to good when we left. hope you’re ok?

yes that's me! those shots were such a bad idea you didn't drink much tho?

yeah we’re in LA for work plus my girlfriend is pregnant with our first baby back home in jersey so I’m not a party animal as I once was.

yeah babies will do that... BORING! well if you ever want a break from that life hit me up! you're always welcome in cali

appreciate it but I won’t be doing that. hope you got home safe.

aha, well here's my number *******-*** when you need it

You look up at him, pouting

“I’m so sorry J… I feel like an idiot”

“You are an idiot. My idiot! I love You, I love stevie and I’m not going anywhere” he says and kisses the tip of your nose “Now turn over and I’ll hold the bump so you can get some sleep”

[literatecowboy]

The King With No Name

2. An Unwilling Bride

Part 3 is here!

Read part 1 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: I wasn't sure if anyone asked to be added to the taglist for this one so I didn't do one, but I'm willing to do one if people want to be notified when new parts go up Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

-----

You got up early the next morning and tucked food from the kitchen away and into a sack before heading down to the stables and hurriedly saddling your horse. At this hour, you were the only one down there, so you were bound to dodge König’s…strange method of courtship. Before the sun even rose you were riding away from the castle, your horse huffing in protest as you plodded quietly across the cobblestones and out the gate. 

Despite your best efforts though, König had seen you leaving through the window, having been up all night, unable to sleep with thoughts of you clouding his mind. He had spun your hunting knife between his fingers, caressing the grip and imagining how small your hand was compared to his. The blade was sharp - the small nick at the base of his throat he had gotten last night was enough to prove that. 

As he watched you disappear onto the plains he laid back down on his bed and sighed softly, running the flat end of the blade against his lips and kissing it. He would return it to you later. 

He dined with your family and the gathered nobility eagerly at breakfast that morning and suggested getting away for a while with a hunt. Your father, though too frail to go himself, urged Lord Henry and Lord Ferdinand to go with König and they set off on their horses after they had eaten. The two lords talked as they rode, following König as he, unbeknownst to them, tracked your horse’s hoofprints across the plains and towards the forest. 

“I’d like to ask the King for Princess Lydia’s hand in marriage sometime soon. I’ve been courting her for some time and I just cannot wait longer - she is the love of my life and I must begin my life with her.” Lord Henry admitted dreamily, a smile warming his features. 

“You’re a lucky man, Henry, that the woman you love loves you in return. To wish to court someone only to be treated like a friend…it is a pain like no other.” Ferdinand admitted, palming an identical charm to the one he had given you in his pocket. It was quiet for a moment. 

“Sir, have you gotten to know Princess Sadie very well yet?” Ferdinand asked, calling out to König. 

“No,” he stated plainly. “I have eyes only for the other one.” Henry stiffened. 

“You seek to marry Lydia?” he asked incredulously, his face paling. 

“No,” König said plainly. It was Ferdinand’s turn to stiffen, and Henry looked shocked. 

The sound of approaching hooves and voices startled you from where you lay against a tree reading and snacking from the food you’d packed earlier. You sat up as you recognized the voices, and when you heard König speak, your heart began to race. 

“Hello, maus.” he bid you as he slid from his horse and strode towards you. You stood and backed away, watching him warily. You were unarmed - your bow was tied to your horse’s saddle as she grazed feet away. 

“Did you follow me?” you growled, glancing behind him at Ferdinand and Henry. 

“You traitor.” you snapped coldly at Ferdinand. 

“I wished only to return your knife to you from when you lent it to me last night, but you scampered away before the sun rose.”

Ferdinand’s face went red, but he said nothing as he slid from his horse. Henry remained mounted, still looking shocked as he looked from you to König, to Ferdinand as he advanced upon you. 

“I thought I told you to leave me alone.” you quipped, snatching the blade back from him and jamming it back into its sheath.

“No, you merely asked me to get out,” he said plainly. 

“What’s going on? He came to see you last night?” Ferdinand demanded, stepping between you and König. 

“I am merely doing as your father asked - I am choosing a bride from his daughters,” König said softly. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a wilting flower, holding it out gently. Ferdinand snatched it from him and König scowled, his eyes hardening. 

“She’s not interested in you. She’s off limits,” Ferdinand growled, throwing it down. 

“I can fight my own battles, Ferdinand. You’re the one who led him here.” you snapped angrily, bending down to gather your things from the grass. König knelt to help you and you snatched your book from his grasp, finding your horse and tucking your things away. 

“But I didn’t–”

“Ferdinand, just leave me alone. All of you leave me alone.” you snapped, climbing onto your horse and riding away back toward the castle. König was quick to follow. His large, black stallion was much quicker than your little tan mare so he caught up quickly, slowing his pace once he was beside you. You glared over at him as you rode, scowling. 

“What do you want now?” you snapped, urging your horse on. 

“I want to get to know you, maus. You are enchanting - I must know more of you.” he urged, his horse keeping pace with yours. 

“My life is none of your business,” you grumbled. König sat up straighter in the saddle. 

“Tonight, I intend to tell your father that I have chosen you as my bride. We will be married before the next sunset, liebeling,” he said sternly. You huffed. 

“My father will not agree to this,” you said firmly, looking away from him. “You must marry Sadie. I am not for sale.”

Henry and Ferdinand rode together a distance behind you, Ferdinand stewing in his anger. 

“He can’t do this, Henry. I’ve got to figure out a way to stop him from taking her away. She’s supposed to marry me!” he cried, watching as his love and the man determined to marry her rode closer to the castle. Henry shrugged. 

“Who knows if it’ll even happen? There’s still time before the wedding is set to take place. He has time to change his mind.”

—

König did not change his mind. 

That night at dinner he announced to your father his choice: he would marry you the following day and whisk you away back to Caldera to be his queen. Your father had shocked everyone at the table by accepting the arrangement. 

You stood, seething in your parent’s chambers later that evening, glaring your father down as your mother tried to placate you.

“How dare you pledge my hand to another without my permission? After the destiny you raised me to achieve? I thought that you expected me to rule after you passed as the queen of this place! I will not abandon the people that I have grown to love!” you shouted, slamming your fist down on the dresser as your father sat by the fireplace. 

“This game of yours has grown as old as me, daughter. I was mistaken to allow you so much freedom when you were a girl, and I was mistaken to believe you would be capable of holding power after my death. It is time for you to learn your place in this world. You will marry König and you will return with him to his homeland. My word is final. He said. 

“Darling, it won’t be that bad. König is a strong man. He will take good care of you.” your mother said, attempting to soothe you. 

“I need no protector! My job was to be your protector! What has come over you? Have you not forgotten his reputation? The thousands he’s slain, the cities he’s burned, the kings he’s buried for his own sake? You are dooming me to a life of misery and slavery and violence!” you shrieked, folding your arms across your chest. 

“That is enough–”

“You will send me away from my home, into the arms of a violent king, all for what? Money? An alliance? You are weak, father. Pathetic. Who will rule after you? Without me, your legacy will crumble.” you spat. 

“Lord Henry or Lord Ferdinand will be my successor. They are capable, proper men, and I trust them to use the power that comes with the crown wisely–”

“Damn you to hell, father. And damn you too for allowing this.” you thrust your finger at your mother and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind you. 

Your sisters were in the hall when you emerged from the bedroom, standing quietly, no doubt having heard the whole exchange. Lydia looked at you pityingly and Sadie just glared at you coldly. 

“It will be alright, sister…” Lydia murmured, embracing you gently as tears flowed down your cheeks and you choked out a sob. Sadie said nothing, only scowled and turned on her heel, storming down the hall and towards her bedroom. You gently pried yourself away from Lydia, taking her hands. 

“I will return to you and Sadie. I will not leave you behind,” you murmured, trying your best to stifle your crying. She nodded, tears beginning to flow down her cheeks. 

“Tell Sadie I’m sorry. That I love her very much - I never meant for this to happen,” you said softly. 

“She’ll be okay,” Lydia murmured, squeezing your hands gently before turning to head to her bed chamber, the door shutting quietly behind her. 

You stood quietly in the hallway for a moment, tears rolling down your cheeks as you strained to hear anything in the silence. Sadie cried quietly in her room down the hall and sadness tore through your heart. 

You made your way slowly down the stairs and outside into the courtyard, doing your best to memorize every last detail of the castle you once believed would be yours to rule. As you made your way outside and into the garden, footsteps sounded behind you and you looked over your shoulder. As Ferdinand approached you you sighed, slumping your shoulders in defeat. 

“You’ve taken my crown, Ferdinand. Is that what you wanted?” you asked after a moment, sitting down on a marble bench and looking at the trees while they blew gently in the wind. Ferdinand sat down beside you and sighed. 

“No,” he said after a moment.

“It’s between you and Henry now. Did my father tell you already?” you asked. Ferdinand sighed. 

“He spoke to us before dinner. So…yes,” he admitted. You swallowed thickly. 

“Then I might have to face you on the battlefield someday because I will not let my people go so easily,” you said coldly. Ferdinand stiffened. 

“Or you could marry me,” he said, turning to look at you slowly. 

“I have no say in what happens to me any longer. I suppose I never did actually,” you said stiffly. 

“Your father said no. I’ve asked. I wanted to spare you…this. But we can still do it.” Ferdinand admitted with a sigh. 

“So this was his plan all along,” you murmured. It was quiet for several minutes. Ferdinand shifted suddenly and knelt before you on the garden path, taking your hands. 

“I have to confess something to you. For years I’ve–”

“Maus?” König’s voice split through the night air as he rounded the corner and approached where you were sitting his brow furrowing. Ferdinand rose sharply, turning and walking away without another word, König glaring after him.

“Maus, it’s cold outside. Come in,” he said, offering you his hand as he reached you. You rose without his help and turned away, striding back down the path and toward the castle. He followed dutifully, ghosting his hand across your back as he guided you inside. 

“I can walk myself from here,” you muttered as you stepped inside, pulling away from König and heading up the staircase toward your room. 

“May I come in with you, maus?” he asked, ignoring your plea and following you to your door, standing in the doorway as you entered. 

“No. Go away,” you said tiredly, too exhausted and crushed to fight. Tears leaked from the corners of your eyes and he reached out with one large hand to brush them away gently. 

“Gute nacht, maus,” he murmured before pulling away and leaving you alone in the dark.

—

The next morning you slept in, unwilling to budge from bed until the sun came up. The churchbells were ringing and you could hear bustling in the halls. Eventually, you were roused from your bed and forced to get up. Your mother forced you to bathe and supervised you as two maids stuffed you into a dress intended for one of your sisters. The three of you were about the same size, though, so to your chagrin, the wedding was not delayed to fix the dress. 

Heeled shoes you struggled to walk in were pushed onto your feet and your hair was made up. Before you could blink you were ushered downstairs and into a waiting carriage. Your mother and father entered shortly after and climbed in across from you, neither meeting your eyes. 

Once you reached the church you were assisted out and onto the cobblestone streets. Your father took up your arm and the doors were opened by two guards. 

Music drifted out of the church in a sickening melody and your father practically had to drag you forward. Your feet felt like cement bricks as you entered the church and felt the eyes of all upon you. You refused to look forward - knowing König was standing there, dressed sharply in ornamented armor. 

Ferdinand stood in the crowd and your eyes locked with his. Sorrow clouded his features as you passed him by, tearing your gaze away from his and focusing your eyes back on the ground. When you reached the altar, König and your father exchanged words you couldn’t hear. Your hand was placed into his and you stepped up the short stairs, finding your place in front of the priest. 

You could not force yourself to smile. You kept your eyes firmly fixed on König’s shoulder as he squeezed your hands and looked down on you, radiating warmth. The ceremony flew by in a blur, and you were so distracted that you had to be prompted to say “I do” twice before you realized you needed to say something. 

“I do,” you mumbled after a second, looking at the floor. The priest continued, but you couldn’t drag your focus away from his words no matter how hard you tried. 

“And do you, König, swear to love and protect this woman from now until the end of your life, through sickness and in health?”

“I do.”

The world blurred again and the priest kept prattling on. And then König was pulling you close to him, lifting his hood–

Soft lips found yours, kissing you gently. He cradled the back of your head with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist. You did not kiss back.