#i still remember when i received the news i had such a crazed look in my eyes my family thought there was something seriously wrong

[cursemewithyourkiss]

I'm haunted by the surviving reel of The Dark Angel (1925). The other night I dreamt of it, I think. I keep fantasising about what it might be like and about actually going to Washington just to see it. Going insane.

[rdr2gifs]

Each time Arthur has helped someone without expecting payment (that I can remember) because I’ve seen some weird takes circling around about how Arthur only cares about money/doesn’t help people (yet again)

He helped a city photographer take pictures and acted as his protector because he liked him

He helped a doctor retrieve a stolen wagon full of medicine, he wasn’t even asked to do so, he did it out of his own good will

He wanted to make an old cranky man happy and proposed finding his lost trinkets for him

He helped Deborah MacGuiness find dinosaur bones out of curiosity. He didn’t receive any financial reward for it. Just a few trinkets and he was satisfied

He risked his life for Marko Dragic’s experiments (his main motivation in this mission was again, curiosity)

He rescued a boy being held hostage by the gunsmith in Rhodes

He rescued people from being trafficked and gave them a large sum of money (he could’ve kept it for himself) for a better life

He helped Mr. White and Mr. Black gain freedom and even helped them again after they got themselves into trouble

He rescued Charles Chatenay on at least 3 different occasions

He instantly hurried to retrieve Sister Calderon’s cross even though he has never met her before

In his first encounter with Marjorie and Bertram, he helps to calm Bertram down and is understanding even though Bertram gave him trouble. He even puts the bartender in his place after he speaks about Bertram in a degrading manner

He agreed to help a man get rid of nigh folk occupying his property and after he payed him with only a rat pelt, Arthur didn’t get angry and still asked him if he’d be really fine on his own after knowing he wouldn’t be able to pay

He let a homeless man hug him and listened to what he has to say

He helped to save Jamie from becoming a cult member and stopped him from taking his life

He helped a boy look for his lost dog

He saved an injured man’s life after driving him to a doctor

He helped a woman get rid of a body after she claimed she had to kill the man in self-defence

He donated to the poor and even to build a shelter for war-veterans

He taught Charlotte how to survive on her own

He tried to save a crazed village out of his own good will

He helped a war veteran retrieve his prosthetic leg and helped him hunt

He helped a man look for his lost friend in the snowy mountains

He helped Rain’s Fall retrieve sacred items important to his people

He helped to retrieve stolen medical supplies for the Wapiti tripe

He saved Captain Monroe’s life after hearing he was in danger

He helped Beau and Penelope escape from their terrible families

He has saved many hunters from getting mauled, given many ladies a ride home, saved people from dying of poisoning, helped gather herbs, helped a lost New Yorker find his way to the town, helped save many people’s lives (lady being held hostage in her own house in Lemoyne, folk getting tortured by The Murfees or Lemoyne Raiders etc.)

Let’s not forget the fact that Arthur is a provider for over 20 people. He cannot be running around and risking his life for free for everyone he meets. He needs money. Even so, he has helped all the people above for no reward and out of his own free will. When I see someone say that Arthur is only motivated by money and never helps people otherwise, I just instantly assume they stormed through the story and didn’t pay any attention. The encounters listed above make up the majority of chance encounters/side quests and in almost all of them he is helping people. 80% of these are also pre-diagnosis.

He has a hard time accepting any compliments or gratitude for his good deeds and always downplays himself. Even in the main story he is never thinking about himself and he always puts others first.

“You did not ask for anything, you only gave”

The encounters where he does require payment pale in comparison to those in which he doesn’t, and even so they are very justified as they are often dangerous, time consuming or straight up ridiculous. It’s weird to assume Arthur only helps people for money when he doesn’t want to deliver love letters, interview dangerous people and sneak into heavily guarded properties for free.

[clairdelunelove]

call me

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

genre: fluff! (rescue drabble!)

warnings: slightly suggestive, cursing, mentions of motorcyclist!ghost, protective!ghost

synopsis: the downtime after missions was rarely a time that ghost looked forward to. everyone's aware to leave him alone during this period. that is, until he gets a call from you asking for his help to rescue you from an awkward situation!

a.n. wOW! hi lovelies, it's been a while! I was inspired to write this because something similar happened to me at an anime convention! and yes it was with a mw 2019 jawbone ghost cosplayer hehe (¬‿¬) oh, here's my kofi! and pls enjoy! <3

-

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obsessed with the idea that ghost would drop everything and come running to you if you called him. 

-

the conclusion of an operation was, albeit, a bit bittersweet for ghost. sure, he benefited from the downtime of not being in an environment that constantly triggered his fight or flight response and a small break was necessary for his well-being to avoid pushing past his physical limitations. yet, those were the only beneficial factors he could conjure up. most operators took advantage of the intermission to catch up with friends at pubs or visit family for a couple days– a luxury he never allowed himself to have. thus, he spent the days of rest endlessly secluded. trapped within the barren walls of his flat. choosing to occupy his time thumbing through a nonfiction novel or finishing some exterior maintenance. he referred to his living space as a place to rest his chaos. to ease his hardships into a lasting slumber– that is, until he’d receive intel about a new operation. and his home was an enigma of great strength accompanied with struggle, providing a solitude that ghost was well acquainted with. he preferred it that way. no one reaches out to him during this time of isolation. which is why he doesn’t expect your name to flash on his phone’s screen and it’s even more astounding that he chooses to pick up the call. 

ghost who leans low enough that his leg almost touches the smooth asphalt when he cruises down the road. the sleek, pitch-black motorcycle adapts easily when he wrenches the steel handlebars. after adjusting in his seat, his gloved hands rev to intensify the speed while his mind recalls the conversation he had with you. approximately two minutes ago. the way you quietly pleaded, “could you please come and get me?” and immediately, the lack of context backed with the sticky hoarseness in your voice awakened unease within him. “you hurt?” his instinctive question is followed with a gruff, “who do I need to talk to.” and the sheer seriousness of his threat forces a minor giggle to leave your lips. the sound encourages him to mull over possibilities. where were you? where could you be right now? think, damn it, think. he drags a heavy hand across his face while vaguely remembering the lighthearted conversation you had earlier in the week. a pair of squad members had politely asked about your weekend plans to which you shared that you planned to get some grocery shopping out of the way. a mundane answer that pulled a couple laughs. but now, the rather ordinary task seemed to evolve into a nightmare as he hears you suck in a wobbly breath. “you still in town, sweetheart?” ghost forces his voice steady despite the crazed way he’s tugging on his shoes and shoving away stray papers to retrieve his keys. you instantly respond that you are and he tries not to dwell on the chance that his presence might’ve helped calm your nervousness. compels himself to solve the blatant issue before figuring out why his decision-making is so sudden. why he’s swiftly weaving through traffic in hopes of finding you when he should be relaxing at his flat. but his voice rumbles out of your phone’s speaker when he instructs, “stay put. I’ll come get you.” 

ghost who visibly tenses up when he spots you from the crowd of shoppers. most are occupied in their own business; choosing from a variety of commodities or paying for their groceries at the checkout line. but that’s not what he’s here for. treading through aisles, his appearance manages to raise curiosity from a couple onlookers before they tactfully glance away from the massive man. having one’s identity partially hidden away by layers of clothing while clutching onto a motorcycle helmet tends to facilitate that reaction from the average citizen. it works in his favor. his heavy-lidded eyes scan the room and before long he recognizes a tuft of your hair. he figured his first encounter with you would be under different circumstances, albeit more jovial and perhaps you’d grace him with one of those blinding smiles that you reserve solely for him. however, all he sees is vermillion flooding his vision. you’re backed into a secluded corner of the store by a sleazy man who’s testing his luck. unfortunately for the stranger, ghost was never a believer of good fortune. you venture to put more distance between you and the man but to no avail. he inches closer. “like I said earlier,” you strive to keep your tone of voice stable, “he’s on his way already. I don’t need a ride.” a courageous act but the guy is already responding. a shoddy decision, in ghost’s opinion, because upon hearing the stranger’s crude innuendo, ghost’s nails form crescents within his palms from how fiercely he’s balling his fists. sees you shrink from the words. and he’s a reaper with the sole mission to deliver punishment.

ghost who eases beside you and subtly reaches to touch your shoulder while murmuring, “I’ve got you.” his voice leaves his lips in a soothing drawl that has you inwardly crooning. safety is synonymous with him. always is. initially checks in with you before engaging in conversation with the stranger. you’re top priority. “simon?” his name is a relieved gasp from your plush lips. clearly you weren’t expecting him to step into the situation with hopes of diffusing it. he slowly tilts his head, “told ya I’d come.” mentions it like it’s a common occurrence that he spends his downtime shutting down harassment directed towards you. yet the first observation you make is that he’s dressed rather casually. clad in an ash-colored hoodie and denim jeans that always cause you to wonder whether he has them tailored because of how well they fit his physique. the homey outfit is a sight to behold considering you typically saw him in uniform; you ravished the domestic image. burnt it into your memory for safe keeping. apparently, so does ghost. “you look proper cozy today.” waving a gloved hand, he indicates your casual outfit and the sudden change of topic prompts a small grin to form on your face. which, ultimately, is his entire plan. dragging your eyes to a sudden motion, you watch as he rolls his sleeves up to reveal a swirl of veins and intricately tatted skin. he’s mystifying; everything about him is– which seemingly adds to his appeal and no matter how vigorously you fight against it, you can’t help but feel the inevitable pull. “don’t get any ideas, sweetheart.” of course the comment is meant to scold but the breathy rasp in his voice morphs it into pure sin. he shoots you an inquisitive glance when he regards your heated gaze and wordlessly chastises your behavior with a raise of his dark brows. 

ghost who absolutely resents whenever someone interrupts you. the act itself is rude beyond doubt but it’s especially ignorant when it concerns you. and the tacky stranger had the audacity to do it in front of ghost. from beneath his mask, he clenches his jaw when the other man decides to open his mouth to continue conversing with you. again. ghost shifts, positioning himself between the two of you, and spits out the words, “you’re doing me ‘ead in. do one, will ya?” his tone is level, devoid of any expletives in his question yet his manchester accent is gravelly enough for his words to border a threat. the manifestation of trouble. he pushes up his sleeves for good measure. truth be told, ghost would’ve simply told the other man to ‘piss off.’ perhaps give him the finger. but you were around and he favored appearing posh. 

ghost who basks in the gratifying burn of watching the stranger scurry away from just his words. runs like a scruffy dog getting caught going through a trash bin and he bites back a snicker. but who wouldn’t run from ghost? dressed as the embodiment of shadows and danger. probably his physique too, if he was being honest. towering at six feet and some more. he states, “don’t think the bloke was fond of me.” can’t refrain from the mockery that lines his words. perhaps the possessiveness was corrupting him more than he imagined. he glances at you, paying special regard to the way the corners of your lips curl at his remark, “suppose you’re right. I appreciate you coming, by the way.” isn’t quite sure why you’re thanking him. he’d rush to you whenever you needed him. but he dismisses it with a throaty, “not a problem.” and it dawns on him that the two of you are alone. away from the prying eyes of the task force members. surrounded by the normalcy of civilian life. and the motorcycle gear that he’s adorned with seems obvious that there’s more to him than he lets on. like the fact that he rushed here without a second doubt. there’s a glimmer in your eyes and he’s aware that your mind is racing with possibilities. “I wonder,” there’s a playfulness in your tone as you shift closer to him, “what was lieutenant riley up to before coming to my rescue?”  

ghost who exhibits the duality of man when he’s with you. his voice gets caught in his throat and he promptly answers, “nothin'.” because you’re placing a gentle hand on his forearm. vanquishes him to a robot that can only utter a single word from a single touch. this wasn’t what he was like before; the esteemed protector with a jealous streak. no, he’s reduced to a pining jumble of tenderness for you. even through the layers of clothing he recognizes your warmth and yearns for it. you gaze up at him through your lashes, a telltale sign that his lack of plans served as an invitation to propose more. he knows that look. “you’re quite a secretive man, simon,” you teasingly narrow your eyes, “has anyone ever told you that?” your fingertips trace the swirls of ink on his arm and he desperately tries to fight against the way his eyes drop into a half-lidded stare. your touch always reduces him to a puddle of adoration. “no,” he breathes out and hopes to convey his ardor in irony, “never.” knows you’re grinning at his automatic responses and heat bubbles within him. 

ghost who allows your caress to dip down to his wrist which, conveniently, was the hand that held onto his motorcycle helmet. watches as you draw delicate patterns on the helmet’s shell. recognizes that you’re working up courage. for what, he's not sure. maybe you’ll ask him how long he’s been a motorcyclist. that’s typically the first question that’s settled. but nothing could prepare him for your honeyed voice that asks, “can I ride?” and how you use him as leverage to push up on your tiptoes and pleadingly whisper, “please?” he's pretty certain that you mean getting a ride on his motorcycle. yet, with the way your lips are practically pressing against his neck and how the heat of your breath forces him to stifle a groan of satisfaction, all logic flies out the window. pure, unadulterated hunger for you seizes ghost in an unexplainable grasp. he needs you. wishes he could whisk you away to someplace else. perhaps to his place. gosh, he appreciated the downtime after a mission. “bloody vixen,” he murmurs lowly while slipping the helmet into your hands, “it’s all yours, sweetheart.” on his motorcycle it typically takes 10 minutes flat to get to his place or 7 minutes if he turns a blind eye to the speed limit– which is an act he’s willingly committed before. 

[saltofmercury]

If you're still open to requests, König surprising reader for her/their birthday belatedly because he was on a mission? Maybe he felt sad he couldn't be with the reader on the actuao date so he tries to make it up by sneaking around the day after he comes back!

Breathing in his body wash, two huge arms cradled and roamed your body. Wet lips had devoured yours, as small moans escaped him.

Adjusting himself on the couch, pulling the cozy blanket above your waist, he continued to kiss every inch of your face and neck, as his hands tried to remember the curves of your body.

Making out on the couch before he left was one of the easier goodbyes. He had been killing himself mentally due to the fact that this particular mission could not wait…. And this mission landed on your birthday.

The problem with König in relationships was that he often offered too little towards his partners. He was barely there, he wasn’t present when he was there.

An arrangement had been made before you two had established your relationship— at least it did in his head. He would make you a priority, take this relationship and work on it...meaning he wouldn’t miss any special events.

Until he met you, he pushed aside his issues with commitment and decided to fully commit.

He had been very fortunate to only miss one Christmas, but had been so disappointed in himself the entire trip home because you had opened your gift —that was not wrapped —but still in the shipping box it came in.

Now he was missing your birthday. Of all holidays, he wished it were another Christmas or would even take New Year’s Eve, but not the day you were born.

He pulls away from the kiss for a second, to realize your shirt has been pulled up, as his sweatpants pulled down.

“… I want to take my time.” He says calmly, taking a mental picture of how crazed you look. It’s the look he loves, just before you give into him, submissively letting him have his way with you.

He pauses, feeling so guilty. You would be alone on your birthday.

He looks down, playing with the hem of your shirt.

“Hey I never got to say I’m sorry in advance, for missing your —“

“Oh my god, please don’t apologize.” You interrupt him before he could finish.

You’ve been preparing for when something like this would happen. You could see how guilty he felt when he had received a call and how quiet he got the next two days.

You figured he would be leaving again— he got the same way around Christmas over two years ago.

“Don’t worry about it honestly. I’ve got some things planned, we can always celebrate after.”

He buries himself into your neck, mumbling apologies—

“It’s just not fair”

“I’m going to make it up I promise”

“This is the last thing I wanted”

He can feel himself getting red, embarrassed that of all the jobs he could have, he was good at his. Why couldn’t he be an accountant? Or a software developer?

Why was he good at this?

“Come on…” you egg him on, scratching his back with your nails.

“I need you before you go..” you whisper softly into his ear.

Within seconds, the hardness in his pants has nudged you, bringing the darkness back into his eyes.

*

In the middle of interrogating some man, all he could think about was slitting his throat, dumping the body for the other team, and calling his mission successful. The man needed to be brought in dead or alive anyway.

He was frustrated, ready to beat the shit out of him, then realizing that he had already completed this mission anyway.

He had scheduled a birthday email two days ago to be sent to you. He had also made other arrangements to be sent to you.

Catch the man, write the report, and head home.

However the son of a bitch was making things difficult. It took everything in him to not beat the crap out of him, stalling what could be days closer to being with you.

Tapping out mentally, he had called Horangi over.

*

On the other side of the world, you had slept in. You woke up to a delivery of 3 dozen roses. He was clearly feeling so bad.

You made your morning coffee, indulged in a strawberry tart, read König’s email, and went to a free yoga class.

You came home, showered, went to your massage you booked, did some shopping, then called one of your best friends to have dinner with you.

Everything seemed fine.

Until you got home, you felt the loneliness creeping in. You had managed to distract yourself but it wasn’t the same.

He wasn’t there to wake you up with balloons he had blown up all over the room. Have him sprint from the room to the kitchen with the tart and a candle on it.

He wasn’t there to eagerly take your pajamas off and ask to taste you.

He wasn’t there to hide the piece of jewelry behind his back and then surprise you with it.

You missed his presence, the way he dressed up before taking you to a fancy restaurant and having you try new things.

It was sad. It felt awful.

But you knew this would happen one day. There was no time for a pity party. You tucked your emotions back in, showered, and got ready for bed.

You ended on a good note. He would be home soon anyway.

*

König rushed to the base to pack his things. He caught the easiest flight back, then began to plan out what he could do to make it up to you.

It had been 3 days, but the guilt had really been eating him alive. He pulled out his phone and saw that his flowers had been delivered.

Would dinner be nice? Would taking you on a trip be nice? His mind jumped from different ideas.

The day he arrived, he had arrived around 1am. You heard the gravel crunch outside. Heavy footsteps had pounded down the hallway towards the room.

You had woken up, filled with anxiety. By the time you sat up in bed, he had walked through the door.

“… hi” he whispered against your skin. He had climbed into bed with his uniform. He began to nestle himself into your neck, kissing your collarbone.

You inhaled him, he smelled of gasoline and tobacco.

“Come…” he pulled you out of bed.

You stared up at him, he grabbed your robe and you guided it onto your body.

He pulled you back towards his car. He had left it running outside.

He had already grabbed one of your blankets off the couch, settled you into the car, then pulled the blanket over you.

“Where are we —“ you began, but was cut off with him holding a finger to lips.

“What are you—“ he proceeded to do it again.

By the time you had reached the destination, the sun had peeked a little, he had given the keys to a valet.

He escorted you up the hotel, to a room at the top of the building.

“Ok weirdo, are you going to say anything?”

Turning towards you, he smiled softly. The ink around his eyes had creased, black ink in his waterline.

"I didn't like missing out, so I wanted to make we can celebrate together." He scans the key, opening the door.

The room is covered with decorations, a small breakfast tray set up near the window, showing the sun rise.

There's emotions settling inside of you, you feel like you could tear up.

He holds you, apologizing.

"I didn't mean to make you cry."

You had wiped your tears, laughing.

"I'm just happy you're home."

He cradled your face with his hand, pulling you into a deep kiss.

"I'm happy to be back with you."

[matttgirlies]

Matt & Me🎀

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24

a story heavily based on Priscilla Presley’s Book “Elvis & Me” based in the 1950’s - 1970’s.

fem! reader x singer! matt

disclaimer!! - in no way am i saying matt would ever support or do these kind of things, for the sake of the book certain unethical things do happen at times.

warnings - mentions of cheating

y/nn = your nickname for any confusion🩷

Chapter 13

Matt joined me two weeks later. Little was said on the night of his return. We exchanged forced smiles. Luckily, there were a lot of familiar faces around and this helped disguise the awkwardness of the moment.

After everyone left, Matt and I finally had to face each other. He walked up to me, took my face in his hands, looked into my eyes, and said, “It’s over, y/nn. I swear to you. It’s over.”

I didn’t speak. I just listened carefully as he continued. “I guess I got caught up in a situation that was out of hand from the beginning. She and I come from two different worlds. I don’t like being exploited. I can’t live like that. Don’t get me wrong. She’s a nice girl, but not for me.”

I didn’t want to hear any more. I looked up at him, half-listening to what he was saying and at the same time asking myself how I could go on, knowing that the future would bring only more temptations for him. Love was much more complicated than I had ever imagined.

The silence between the two of us continued until Matt had had enough and said, “Let’s forget it. Forgive me, please.” Then, with that little-boy look that always seemed to capture my heart, he said, using Flip Wilson’s favorite Geraldine line, “I guess the devil made me do it!”

I agreed.

I would be a little more skeptical now.

And there was still one more matter to take care of. I walked into his bathroom, went through his makeup kit, and pulled out a telegram I knew he’d received earlier. It simply read, i just don’t understand—scoobie. It was from Julia Ernst. I knew it. Scoobie was a name she had given herself, he confessed later. That line was also the title of the first hit record she’d recorded in the early sixties. Obviously, Matt had totally disassociated himself from her, cutting off their ties.

“It bothers me knowing it’s there,” I said. I simply tore it to shreds and with total gratification flushed it down the toilet.

“Not too much goes by you, does it, Little One? For such a little girl, you’re a typical woman.” He was laughing. “I guess I’ve got to keep on my toes.”

I returned his smile but thought: No, I’m the one who has to keep on her toes. After the ordeal with Julia Ernst, I still suspected that there were other women.

Occasionally I’d read or hear about Matt romancing his latest leading lady. I’d see press-released pictures of them riding down Sunset Boulevard on his new motorcycle or hear about a new car he’d bought for a young starlet just before they’d started shooting a picture. There was always room for doubt. It was difficult to differentiate between gossip and fact, and I’d get crazed with worry.

Before I started traveling with Matt on a permanent basis, I discovered notes and cards tucked away on a shelf in his closet, notes that read, “I had a wonderful time, Honey, thanks for the evening.” Or, “When are we going to get together again? It’s been two days, and I miss you.” When I voiced my suspicions, he denied everything and accused me of “imagining things.” He told me I was ridiculous for believing the gossip columnists. Yet I couldn’t help remembering that he’d told me the same thing when I’d asked him about Julia Ernst.

If I really challenged him, I always ran the risk of his threatening to send me home to my parents. He knew this tactic always worked. The first time it happened, he was filming Spinout and we were talking about his costar, Shelley Fabares. I suggested going to the set and meeting her.

“It’d be a good idea if you didn’t,” he said.

“Why not? I’m not doing anything. I could come and have lunch with you.”

I’d obviously said the wrong thing. He shot me a menacing look and said quietly, “That’s it, woman! I don’t want to hear another word.”

It was foolish of me, but I didn’t ignored his warning. “Well,” I persisted, “is there something you’re hiding that you don’t want me to see?” He flew into a rage.

“I don’t have a goddamn thing to hide. You’re getting a little too aggressive and demanding. It might be a good idea if you visited your parents for a while.”

Shocked, I yelled, “Well I’m not going!”

“I think you should. In fact, I’ll help you.” He walked over to my closet and proceeded to throw every piece of clothing I had on the floor, hangers included, along with my suitcase on top of the clothes.

“All right, woman. Start packing!”

I couldn’t believe this overreaction. It was one of four things: He was innocent, or I had made him feel guilty, or he was guilty, and I’d made him feel even more so, or it was simply his ongoing disgust with the inane plot of the film and he’d chosen me as a target for his anger.

Sobbing, I started to pack as he turned and strode out of the room. Moments later I heard him yelling for Nate to make a reservation. “Get her on the next flight out. She’s going back to her parents.” There was a finality in his voice that I had never heard before. Hysterical, I began folding my clothes as he continued yelling in the other room. I packed slowly, stunned by the blowup.

When he came back into the room, I felt humiliated. I continued folding clothes, sobbing uncontrollably. “You’re too goddamn demanding,” he said, staring at me in silence. “Hurry up. It’s time to go.”

I got up slowly and started toward the door. Just as I reached it, I felt his hand on my shoulder, turning me around, and then, miraculously, I was in his arms, and he was holding me tight.

“Now do you understand?” As he spoke, I was sobbing against his shoulder. “Do you see that you need this? You need someone to take you right to this point and put you in your place.”

I was relieved and happy to be back in his arms. Anything he’d have said would’ve made sense to me in that moment. What I didn’t realize until later was that this was Matt’s technique of keeping me under control.

Excerpt from: "Elvis and Me" by Priscilla Beaulieu Presley. Scribd.

This material may be protected by copyright.

a/n - sorry for the short chapter i just needed to get one out!! ill double post tonight🎀

[whumpsday]

Me and my hunting partner just got back from duty, and my partner is injured.

I make Kane close the wound. He doesn't get to lick it directly, though, he might get a mouthful of blood. While holding him with an iron grip in his hair, I make him spit in my hand, then rub it on the wound to close it.

Then we lock Kane back up and leave.

liked this one so much i wrote a whole 700 word thing about it. enjoy!

Chronological masterlist / Writing order masterlist / Drabbles tag

content: vampire whumpee, starvation, begging, multiple whumpers, burns, magical healing, saliva, bloody injury described through the rose-tinted lens of a very hungry vampire

-

Kane always smelled the hunters coming before he saw them, but he usually heard them even before that. The sweet scent of human blood, flowing plentifully through their veins, hidden just under soft skin he would never get to break. In the beginning, he used to throw himself at the bars in a hunger-crazed frenzy, burning himself in the process. He'd learned enough self-control to avoid that, by now.

Today was different. He smelled blood first, before he even heard them. The scent was sharper, less muffled than when sealed behind human flesh, though distant enough for him not to fly into hysterics.

Someone was bleeding, and they were getting closer.

Kane picked himself up from where he sat huddled in the corner and placed himself near the door, kneeling respectfully. It was likely that they were just going to taunt him again, mock him for how he'd never receive food again by waving blood out of reach until he cried. But there was always a chance.

With time to prepare himself mentally, he dug his nails into his thighs and coached himself to stay sane. He wouldn't jump at the bars and burn himself, he wouldn't. He would kneel here, beg for food, and hope for the best.

He gritted his teeth as the hunters started making their way down the stairs, mouth watering at the tantalizing, unmistakable fragrance of fresh blood. He was so hungry. He would do anything for just a little bit.

The hunters hobbled down the stairs, one supporting the other. The injured hunter's jeans sported a slash in one leg, a shallow yet long gash running across it. The wound oozed blood, the finest ambrosia Kane could imagine. It glistened under fluorescent lights: a deep, rich, savory red, dripping from the hunter's thigh and saturating the fabric of his jeans. Its aroma permeated the room: it was everywhere, it was everything, he needed it more than he'd ever needed anything else in his entire life.

Kane pounced toward the source of it, his mind blank of anything other than the overpowering need for food, only to yelp and recoil back when his front lit up with pain- he'd leapt at the bars, again.

The uninjured hunter chuckled lightly. "Looks like the parasite thinks you're its new snack, eh, buddy?"

His hunting partner rolled his eyes. "Just get on with it before the guys try to make me go to the fuckin' ER. I don't want to deal with that shit."

After gently setting his peer on the floor in the hall outside Kane's cell, the uninjured hunter unlocked the door, quickly shutting it behind him as he entered. "Good news! You get to be useful today."

Kane fought to retain his rationality, whimpering as he looked up at the hunter. It took every ounce of effort he had in him not to pounce again, and he wasn't sure how long he'd be able to manage it, but the painful lines singed into his skin helped him stay grounded. "P-please. Please sir, I need it. Please?"

The hunter tangled his fingers in Kane's hair and gripped it tight, forcing his head still. "Tsk-tsk. You don't get blood, remember? Don't worry, you can still be useful." He held his other hand out, wearing a sturdy leather glove. "Spit."

Kane sobbed. "Please, please, I'll be so good, please let me lick the wound closed! I can help!" he cried.

The hunter rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't be able to prevent yourself from biting if you tried. Spit."

The worst part was Kane knew the hunter was right.

He had no trouble providing ample saliva to close the wound, his mouth watering excessively with the smell of food surrounding his starved body. The healing properties would wear off mere minutes after leaving him, but the injured hunter was right there. Kane wished it would wear off immediately, just so he'd have an excuse to get some blood in him. Even the smallest bit.

The hunter released his hair, mockingly patting him on the cheek. "Good leech."

Kane watched with ravenous, desperate eyes as the hunter applied vampire saliva to the wound, the delectable blood clotting to stop any excess from being lost.

The scent did not leave, even as the hunters returned upstairs. The injured hunter had spilled a small amount of blood in the hall without even noticing. Kane would do anything to have it. He would take any punishment if he could earn the opportunity to lick it up. He would die for it in a heartbeat. He would beg, but there was no one to beg to.

He amassed many more burns that night, fruitlessly throwing himself at the bars between sobs

-

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[writingsofhubris-a]

a new mercy a new grace

[AO3] Rating: E WC: 4.3k  Tags: Falling In Love, Blood and Injury, Introspection, Hand Jobs, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Intimacy Fandom: The Outer Worlds Ship: Vicar max/OMC Disc: I sorta fell in love with another old man, my bad anyway, speculation into Max's thoughts as an unexpected man suddenly appeared in Max's life, offering him a hand and an escape.

He still remembered the year he received his first tossball stick. It had been a warm year, the bite in the air was stronger than it normally would be. Max had stayed inside as much as he could, unwilling to bite the acid that had combined to mix in their air. 

Finding the respirators on a dead body has just been luck, and he still remembered the open, crazed eyes that had long turned cloudy. His parents could do with this bon, a small gift to help with the ghastly smells of the warehouse. 

That was the first time Max had questioned what his role in this world was. 

Would his eyes hold that same, glassy look? Would his life fall to a cold stillness, forgotten outside the strong walls he was born behind? 

Max saw the dead eyes reflected in the people in his town. The metal rusted randomly, indicative of the holes of faith in those around him, proof of the plan continuing on with the monotony of the heavy falls of shoes against corrugated metal, lines as employees would clock in a few minutes earlier. 

“Wouldn’t want to get that minute docked again. They stack with how many times you’ve been late, and wouldn’t you know, they don’t go away.” The words and regulations were familiar to Max. He’d long since learned what was to be expected of him. 

When he would run his father an extra coat during the day, anything extra to protect him from the sparks of the welding equipment, Max could see the worn holes in the laborer's souls. Young as he was, Max could only see happiness in the pews of the order; when he could sit and listen to the whispers of those around him, he felt the answers he was searching for, just outside of his grasp. 

He was fifteen, and already the corporations were eager to sink their claws into his soul. He'd have to sign a contract soon, if he would have any hope of life. 

The vicar walked by in blue robes, sound in his steps. He was consoling someone over a concern they'd been mulling over. He recalled how bright his mother’s eyes sparkled in the night when she would return home after a hard day’s work. 

“You must remember the Grand Architect knows what you are best suited for. You must trust in his teachings…” The ruined voice, too many years of acid in the air, rang between the steel walls of the commune. Max closed his eyes, and held tight to that voice that he’d grown so familiar with over his short life. 

The architect… perhaps he’d find some truth there in the arms of the creator. Perhaps that joy that he saw in his mother’s eyes, the calm that his father held, would proliferate him in the order of scientific inquiry. 

Perhaps his part of the Plan would at last be shown to him, given a taste of his part to play in the tapestry that was life. 

It started in the pit of his stomach; crawling into his guts and staining his blood. Anger, sure and unmistakable. Rage that corroded worse than a Raptidon acid, the very marrow of his bones shook. And the edges of his vision held pink. 

"If you pay enough bits, no one on the board is going to go looking.  Anything you want…” Max tried to allow his mind to settle down, to ignore the words as he so often did. The despicable things that had been admitted to within these walls, how could he have been put here with these monsters? For daring to -

He cut that thought off. He wasn’t safe in this changing room, he wasn’t safe in his mind, by the law, he had to hold onto the Plan that had been predetermined. Everything was perfectly in place. Every action had a reaction, every time the pendulum swung, the balls would be thrown from one player to another. 

Max didn’t realize the transition between locker room and field. He just felt the blood pumping through his veins, trying to evacuate his ire and rage. Max could feel that irritation, the heft of the tossball stick in his hands. The callouses over the months had well built up,. he could feel how well the tossball stick felt in his hands. The ball was caught in the little basket, his turn for focus as he discombobulated the others,  avoiding his combatants��� attention until he had well and properly distracted those watching him. He was the only focus the other team could see; qnd in the slightest motion of his hand, he kept their attention whilst hiding the handoff of the ball.

By the time they’d scored, Maximillian had already fell into the feeling of catching a ball in the net of his stick. 

When he felt the heft of his tossball stick suddenly digging into a mouth, a jaw that was now well demolished, Max almost stilled. This was right, this was the plan. The Architect knew what it was that he was here for, and the illicit discussions the man had been providing only made the bile threaten to leave his lips. 

The net was red now, the edge of the hoop pressed against the man’s throat. He was nearly already dead. 

Maximillian felt the shock of a stun baton, and he was down on the floor, the disgusting degenerate to be taken to medical bay, and Max once again punished. The plan was snapping him back to where he should be; what he should be doing. 

His father’s eyes flashed through his memory. Calm, looking up from his work, meeting Max’s eyes. He found his peace in his work. 

Why hadn’t Max?

They listened to him. Max found his flock, as unexpected as it was. Those incarcerated as he; a family was found in his teachings, teachings he had once poured his heart into. He had more than enough desire to impress that which he knew fully into these poor lost souls. Those who had turned their back to the plan once again listened to reason, understood what they were, who they were. They listened to his guidance, as that woman once had when he was a child. The men surrounding Max in this damnable place heard his voice radiating out from his cell. The guards simply ignored his words, allowing the message to drift from his bars to their helmets, and no further. No talk of escape, no radical preaching, Maximilian was helping their charges keep quiet, and manageable.

The Vicar helped them understand their transgressions against the architect, against the board. They repentant, and spoke with the guards about their wrongful transactions. Few found their way out of tartarus before their sentences were up. Perhaps they’d find solace when they left. 

She’d been amicable to his message, at long last. Miss Holcomb seemed to find some sense of understanding, standing next to this stranger that was new not just to this land, but clearly more. 

What a stranger he was; quiet and commanding. Strong, he looked like he would be able to help the vicar on his quest. He just hoped he’d see Miss Holcomb again, alive as opposed to dead. 

He leant back in his chair, looking at the modest decorations he had gathered in the room. He could hear those in the church, praying to themselves about the Architect. Perhaps their roles would be changed, but they did not understand the momentous toll that would take on the rest of them. Perhaps there could be some form of upward movement for a few; moving to Byzantium perhaps, or if they were lucky, ascending up a business like a ladder. But it was unlikely, Max was well aware of that. Most of these people would smell saltuna, and have little else to refresh themselves with their entire lives. It was just the word of the Architect that could provide them with any kind of security. 

He didn’t know what that security really felt like. He took on the concerns and fears of those living in this shithole, and held onto them instead. Those fears became his, and allowed each of the members of the community to find their work. 

At least until he found that damn journal. Reginald was stupid, but he wasn't stupid enough to lie that blatantly. He was certain there was a book in that abandoned outpost, so long as someone could find it for him. 

But the cold dead eyes that had attacked him before still rang behind his eyes. He didn't have the bits to purchase enough protection to keep him safe, he had to wait; hopefully for this very man. 

Those cold, dead eyes looked up at him. Blood drifted from the tossball stick, the edge embedded into skull. He tugged the handle, and felt white matter spill into the basket at the end. He shook off the decayed brain to look up at his crewmates. Felix, his captain, both were alive and safe. Both were okay. This wasn’t the blow that would take them, the sudden uncertainty of this life that he was settling deeply into. 

He felt useful; scripted in a way he'd been searching for. The scenes were unexpected, the settings Moreso. 

A marauder was a maurder was a marauder. Max knew how to swing his tossball stick in just the rich arch to deal the most damage. Pulling the trigger to his rifle could pull forth jubilant cries, seeing the crazed bodies drop lent to success with celebrated, approved and looted, liqueurs.

Max trotted up to his captain, putting his stick back in its holder. That anger that had landed itself deep in his chest was at last freed in a constructive outlet. He’d always held his own in fights against his fellow man, but finally holding his own against creatures that long since relinquished their humanity was refreshing. 

Viktor’s gaze met Max’s, and Max felt a small smile on his lips, hidden from view by the helmet. 

“Think we’ll see a mantiqueen?” Felix’s jubilation was indicative of his bravery, his excitement… his naivety. 

“By the law, I hope not.” 

He jerked up from his bed. Taking a deep gasp of air, Max could hear the engines firing softing, ADA taking control of their course well enough. 

Those damn eyes. 

Cold, dead, crazed. The figure in his doorway shifted, leaning against the frame. His captain, standing and blocking out the light, dressed down in casual clothes. It didn’t stop the bulk of a bandage around his arm, a bullet graze that has caught them unawares. Scabbed-over broken lip, hair no longer smoothed back over his head. 

“Max.” 

“Captain.” He stepped into the bunk, and pressed the button to close his door again.

“Nyoka heard a shout.” 

“I’m sorry, I’ll..” 

“What’s wrong?” His captain was at the foot of his bed, sitting down and looking him in the eyes. Red eyes, irises still holding proof of his slumber. 

“I’m alright, captain.” 

“Don’t lie to me.”

"Are you accusing-”

“Yes I am. What’s wrong?” For not the first time, Max found himself quiet with the rage flaring in his chest. 

Those red eyes, full of determination and promise, staring into his soul. "Tell me how to help, Vicar."

The rage flooded once again, and despite his age, he flung himself into the captain. Both bodies flew across the small room, a thump as hundreds of pounds of muscle hit the floor. The wrists he had in his hands struggled, trying to get free. 

The captain stilled when he felt lips pushing against his, the Vicars teeth suddenly biting down on his lip. His moan stilled them both. Max didn't allow it to be for long, instead just shoving his hips down against Viktors. Lengths ground against each other, teeth painfully hit the others. Flares of pain ment nothing. Not the metal under Max's knees that ground against his patella, the strain of an old stab awakening, the sudden tight grip of the Captain's hand on his hip. 

He realized he'd let go of that hand to grab at his Captain’s throat, keeping his face still. 

That speed he so often forgot about from the Captain reared it's head at last. Max found himself turned over on the floor of his cabin, a leg hitched around his Captains hips, his hand on the Captains throat, and his hand now being pinned as his just was. 

Viktor didn't need him to explain any further. Max could have deluded himself into thinking Viktor wasn't interested, if it wasn't for their hips, pressing and grinding together. 

The hard metal ground into Max's shoulder blade, but he just pushed his hand harder against his captain's neck. Another moan from Viktor, and Max once again stole a kiss, his teeth grabbing the scabbed over cut, blood falling into Max's mouth. 

Max felt absurdly empty, the passion ripping through him needing an escape. Viktor’s thrusts were hard and rhythmic, and Max ached for him to fulfill his role in this tryst, to allow Max to fully release the tension built inside, the anger that wanted to pour between them. 

“By the law,” Max hissed out, his hand tightening on Viktors throat. He felt Viktors cock jump, only to grind deliciously hard against his body. 

“If this is what you need, Vicar,” Viktor took a messy breath, hips stilling as his hand moved between them. “I expect you to ask, not attack.” Viktors hand slipped under his waistband, sealing his hand around Max's shaft. Max couldn't help his hips canting into the first touch from another human in years, couldn't help the spurt of cum that spilled when Viktors thumb brushed over the head of his cock. He ruined his underwear, tension draining from his body. Vik’s thrusts slowed, then stilled with his own groan. Viktor took his hand back, looking at the cum that clung to his digits. Without missing a moment, his tongue darted out to taste the bitter liquid. 

“Fuck.” Max’s hand moved from Viktor’s throat, settling on his shoulder, allowing their breathing to normalize again. 

Viktor’s fingers moved back to his own lips, but this time he felt the blood on his chin. Sitting back on his haunches, he used the hem of his shirt to dab at the blood, waiting for it to finish bleeding. 

“Maybe we should go hunting together. Get the lay of the land, do some scouting together.” Another dab, and he was satisfied with how much his lip had slowed down bleeding. 

“I’d like that, Captain.” Max’s eyes were locked onto the tip of his banner, the OSI logo glinting in the recirculated air. 

The strong arm around Max's waist pulled him back into the bed. A deep voice reverberating against his back. 

"Dreams?"

"Memories." A kiss from rough lips pressed to the nape of his neck. 

The stars lit the room just enough; the lit planets threw hues over their bodies. Max turned around, looking into his captain's eyes. A wide hand moved to curl around his jaw, amazingly tilting his head only slightly into the comfort. 

Max thought about how this was the happiness that his parents had chosen. They had fought through worse, they had fought though monsters of another type. He was the second generation born on these terraformed planets, long away from the life of his forefathers. Max and Viktor quite entirely came from two different worlds, yet found themselves well suited for the other. 

"What kind?” Without asking, without prompting, Viktor took Max into his chest, allowed Max’s arms to wrap around his body, forced him into the understanding of waking from dark dreams. 

“Ones I’d thought were lost.” 

“Not willingly.” Viktor’s hazarded guess stilled Max; his words found his lips after just a moment, not willing to let the words misunderstand him. 

“Not unwillingly. Both; memories that didn’t serve my purpose then, or now.” 

“And what’s your purpose now?”

“Hacking for you, if it’s on a terminal or a tossball stick.” That rumbled laugh was calming. Max could fall asleep to that more often than not, he decided. 

“How about sleeping?” 

“Perhaps.” But his eyes once again closed, letting the memories of cold eyes, not dead nor living, fade from the recesses of his mind. 

The hand on his hip was warm, rough. He could feel where the callous was from the trigger of a gun. Then, it slid forward, cupping his balls, a shock of contact. Viktor was breathing too strongly to be asleep, even without a word spoken yet. 

From his balls, the hand slipped up his half hard shaft, pressing the top against his stomach, simply idly stroking him to hardness. A kiss was pressed to Max’s neck, a moment of softness in the darkness of the cabin. Viktor’s hand formed a loose circle around his dick, sliding up and down in the most teasing way. Max let his head fall back, to rest against Viktor’s for just a moment. 

This wasn’t what he’d been expecting. Max didn’t lend himself well to surprises, but as the fingers wrapped around his half hard cock, he was finding himself caring less and less. The spontaneity was a kindness Max didn’t realize he needed. The teasing, the pleasure, the sudden flicking of Viktor’s calloused thumb against his cockhead, all was new each time. 

Viktor’s hand moved up, palm resting in front of Max’s lips. 

“Lick my palm, Max.” A smear of saliva on his palm, and Max took Vik’s finger into his lips for just a moment. A suck, a promise for another time. 

This time, both of Vik’s hands went under his waistband, one hand to Max’s balls, and the other back to the shaft. Saliva smoothing his actions, Viktor started to stroke his cock. He wasn’t hurrying this along, he wasn’t allowing anything to speed him along, Viktor simply was enjoying teasing Max and bringing soft moans from him. 

His hips were pushing back against Vik’s, feeling his hard on grinding against his ass. He started to reach behind to take Vik in hand, offering just a bit of pleasure. Vik’s hand wrapped around Max's wrist, stilling his action. 

“Don't. Just sing a hymn for me, Vicar.” Vik twisted his hand just so around Max's cock, a deep groan falling from Max's cheat. “Just like that. Just perfect.” Viktor took the moment to grind against Max's ass, falling into a duet of a hymn sung to an uncaring creator. 

Those eyes were mindless. They were unseeing, crazed with a lust to a drug that couldn’t be substituted. Screams of babbled gibberish still rang in his mind, cold and not simply inhuman; unhuman in a way that forced his skin to turn to gooseflesh, the nape of his neck rise, a twist in his gut. 

“Captain, on your left!” A raise of his gun, a sight quickly leveled, and the recoil of his gun was stopped by the armor on his shoulder. God damn, he would feel that, but the gun that had been trained from far above fell the stories down. He saw the barrel bend as it hit the ground, the clang waking something much higher on the cliffs. Max just didn’t want it to find him before it forgot about him. 

Vik swung around to his left, the rifle in his hands level to nearly touch the forehead of a marauder. One swift bullet, and once again the Captain was safe. Once more, Viktor was alright. He looked around the ruins, seeing nothing of consequence. A light job, and he was looking at the other man, scanning up and down his armor for any noticeable signs of cracks. Already, Viktor was scanning ahead, looking for the next threat. If they hadn’t been ambushed so many times, Max might even have thought he was paranoid. They both knew better, on this rock. 

Max’s eyes landed on Felix, pulling his tossball stick from the dead maurader’s head. An eyeball, not mindless, not cold, nothing more than a broken sphere, fell from the net and onto the ground. Max looked back at the two other men, regrouping again.

“This planet reeks of death.” Max’s observation was unthinking, and it was all the worse that he had grown familiar with the stench himself. 

“Perhaps Phineas and Adelaide will be able to use this for the next few years.” 

“Morbid, and practical as always, Captain.” 

“We need to get back to the Unreliable. You fellas ready?” 

“Ready when you are, boss.” 

The shower was always cold, and didn’t clean as deeply as one could hope. But Parvarti had just worked with Ada to redirect the water near the engine, and for the first time, there was hot, recycled water on the Unreliable. The shampoo was worked into a lather in Viktor’s hair, scrubbing the green curls into a faint lather. It was relaxing, feeling his worn body pressed against a similar one. 

“Lean forward,” Max instructed. Viktor used his hands against the wall to lower himself into the stream, keeping his feet in the same spot as before. He pushed back after a moment, standing up smoothly on his feet. Max was almost distracted by the muscles flexing, stretching under Viktor’s skin.

There was red under Viktor’s nails. He could see it over the man’s shoulders, spread against the wall as he was. 

“Let me clean your hands.” 

“My…”

“Hands.” He turned around, looking at Max with a bemused smile. 

"Planning something, are we?" Those strong hands moved to slide from Max's hips up to his waist, nothing more than a teasing motion. 

"You still have Raptidon blood under your nails. It's acidic enough to eat through your skin if we let it sit only a few more hours."

"Right. No, I knew that." Soap, a scrap of fabric as the rag, and Max started to clean each finger. He allowed Vik's free hand on his hip, until he let go. Vik, shocking as always, turned them around, pressing his chest against Max's back. The dirty hand was looped under Max's arm, and settled into his; fingers lacing for a moment, knuckles rubbed against each other. Max could feel the mishealed bone on Viktors left hand; pinky and ring shattered days before Ellie had joined the crew. Too late to set the joints, but she had offered to dare break and set the fingers. 

Viktor had quickly changed the topic back to the distress call, and who would be joining. 

Max ran the rag over each finger, rubbing under the nail. 

"I think they're clean," Viktor softly broke in. He looked closer, opened his eyes to what was once again in front of him. Each finger was cleaned, a little red from Max’s scrubbing. Viktors hand moved to rest on Max's lower stomach, pulling him back against his captain. 

"Ruminating?" Max softly laughed, and nodded. 

"Yes, you caught me." He felt a kiss press to the worn skin of his shoulder, the thick bristles of Viktors beard scratching him. The water turned off quite suddenly, and Ada's familiar voice chimed into the bathroom. 

“Though I can create an unlimited amount of water, three crewmates have been loitering in the kitchen. Felix is about to start a revolt.” One more kiss from Viktor's lips, and a towel was thrown at Max. 

“So who's the oldest?”

“I am.” Max and the captboth spoke at the same time. 

“Max, I'm older than you.” The Captain's eyebrow raised, wrinkles punctuating his point. 

“But we look about the same age.” 

“Hibernation pods really do something for wrinkles.” Max's confusion cleared up, realizing his mistake. 

“The hope.” 

“How old are you, Captain?” Nyoka walked up, Purpleberry Crunch in a bowl in her hand. 

“119, at my last count. My final year of being a teen.” 

“Meaning you were born in… 2236?” 

“And the only one of us from Earth.” There was a best of silence before Felix spoke up.

“does that make us aliens to you?” 

“Technically.” 

“Whoa.”

His call was too late this time. The crunch of his captain's leg disintegrated into shards in his leg. It would be too much for him to take care of with a supplement, Max could tell. Yet somehow, he was able to swing the scythe in his hands up and pull through the muscled neck of the primal standing on the shattered leg. Head half decapitated, alkalized blood spilling mere inches from Viktor’s skin. 

The large head tipped forward, and Max only barely managed to throw his weight against the shoulder of the now dead beast. The carcass fell to the side, and he was on his knees next to the captain. So much for watching the man’s back. 

“Captain, are you alright?” Heavy breathing, and Viktor sat up minutely. The shock of pain through his leg made him grimace, and he at last looked at his Vicar. 

“I need you to listen carefully to my instructions, and get me back to Ellie as fast as you can. Do you understand?” The order was given, and Max allowed himself to wall off those pesky emotions, emboldened from the temporary fear of losing Viktor. 

“Yes, Captain.” 

“Good. I need a splint immediately.” 

Everyone was on the Groundbreaker. Felix and Parvarti needed to talk with Gladys over the book club, Ellie and Nyoka to drink and catch up with a few people. Everyone was gone, other than Vik and Max. The captain’s bed was comfier than his. Not by virtue of a better mattress, though there were some extra blankets. 

The bed smelled like Viktor. Sweat and metallic blood, but an earthiness unlike anything Max had ever smelt. The smell of terraformed planets held that smell, bit it was never as strong as it was in Viktors pillow. Max's arm wrapped around the thin pillow, taking a deep breath. He could smell the spectrum black that had been on Viks tongue last night, the celebration that had been hosted for another job done well. 

Where the captain had gone, Maximillian wasn’t sure. The world was in flux, in a status that Max wasn’t entirely sure he could understand. He didn't know what tomorrow would hold, what the random chips would fall and survive into the next day. It scared him, the future more faceted than the supposed technicality that was the BOLT-52. 

[anastasiareadsnwrites]

Money, Money, Money Part I (Margaret "Peggy" Sykes x Obsessed!Female! Customer) Part I, Part II

Authors note: Thank you for requesting, love. I am too ensure that this one-shot or possibly series is to your liking. I still haven't made any Masterlists to any of the fandom or fore so on the MAIN Masterlist. Which is to take some time as of the moment.

Original anon ask

Summary:Peggy has a new customer and her new customer is absolutely obsessed with the woman, lustfully and adoringly.Taking the advantage of your upper hand you can't help but adore the woman who is at your mercy. With a small twist.

Warning(s): Obsessed reader, Guns, knives, fighting, lustful thoughts, smut**, Oral sex (Peggy!Receiving), Fingering (Peggy!Receiving), whips, paddles, hair pulling, etc....

The MAIN Masterlist

'ding'

The bell on the front door rang out as you entered the shop. The place was definitely what you imagined it to be. Chill and the lights low enough for you to see and look at the items.

"Good day." A lady with orange hair said as she looked at you. "My sister will be with you shortly." She gave a fake smile and rolled her eyes as you turned and looked at the items on the wall.

"Peg!" Bet yelled. You turned to look at her when she glanced at you. You recognized the redhead from somewhere but it didn't click in your head. So you just simply put it aside for the time being.

"What!" Another voice you recognized too well which caused you to give a big grin as you looked at the paddles. 'Didn't move to far I see' You thought as you ran your hand over one of the paddles.

"You have a customer." Bet said loud enough for the both of you to hear. The beads that hit each other in small sounds. "Hello, love." Peg smiled at you as you turned and looked at the woman wearing a suit in the color green. You grinned and gave a little chuckle.

"Hello. I've just heard about your business, dear." You turned and gestured to the whole place. "Oh, well isn't that lovely." Peggy walked behind the counter, smiled, and gave the redhead a glare for rolling her eyes.

"I'm sorry. My sister here isn't fond of working behind the counter."

"Shut it you." The woman looked at the both of you before mumbling something and walking out of the shop.

"Sorry about her." Peggy said as she heard the door slam. That's where you knew about the redhead. She was Peg's little sister. Former best friend. Now Bet was your best friend during and after high school, which was no biggie to you. But she got involved with Lord Harwood.

Your father.

Your mother never told him that she was pregnant with his child, she basically kept you away from him. Sending you away like you weren't supposed to be born. Your mother was cruel. Never giving you the attention you needed, no goodbyes when you were sent away. And that's how you met Bet in high school. She was unhinged of course. But you both protected each other.

She was sassy, of course, well who from the Sykes family wasn't sassy? The rumor that they were manics was popular at the time. But when you first saw Margaret, it was like you finally saw color in your world again. Ever since then you were obsessed with the woman. You kept tabs on her, where she moved, what she did, and today you had the right plan to confront her.

"Oh, It's no bother. Say are you still working for Lord Harwood." You gave a smile and picked up a paddle that was hanging off the wall in front of you. Glancing at the woman with the paddle in your hand, you noticed the smile that graced her face disappeared.

"What's your name?" She asked as she glanced at the black and brown paddle that you held in your hand. You lifted your hand, black nails running through your h/c hair. "Oh, I'm sorry you don't remember me." You chuckled as you walked forward.

"The name's Y/n Harwood." Your smile was crazed as you gazed at her body a little too longingly. You would love to see what she was wearing underneath all the clothes. Would she be wearing something suitable for your liking? What of your liking anyways. You would rather have her wearing nothing at all.

You stood at the other side of the glass counter where you could see her more clearly. The way her breathing was a little bit rigid.

"Y/n?" She tested your name as she slowly reached to her right for something behind the counter. "Your Bet's friend, am I right?" She asked and gave a fake smile.

"Yes, pretty much. But I haven't had contact with her ever since she started working for my father." You hissed the last part.

"Lord Harwood?" She questioned.

"Yes, Lord fucking Harwood." You sighed, slumping your shoulders and looking a different way, dazed for a bit.

The sound of a gun clicking caught your attention. Quickly you looked back at the woman who held a gun right in your face. Wide eye'd you took a step back. "Peg, I wouldn't dream of hurting you." You faked a theatrical gasp. Putting your hand on your chest, looking at her with a hurt expression.

"How would I know that, love?" She questioned quirking a brow at you and tilting her head.

You grinned from ear to ear- "I guess your right"- quickly and swiftly you drew the paddle you had in your hand and hit the gun from her hands causing her to gasp. She tried to move from behind the counter toward the front of the shop which made you run behind her and pull her by her hair which caused her to groan and gasp.

You coiled and wrapped her long black hair into your hand and pulled more causing her to recoil and lift her head back to relieve the ache in her scalp.

"Now we can do this the hard way or the easy way." You sighed, relaxing as you smelled her perfume that laced her personal space. As you licked your lips and whispered in her ear - "So which is it?"-just as you tugged on her hair again, she quickly turned. Knife in hand. Where could she get a knife from?

This was her shop anyways, so it didn't surprise you. What surprised you was when she lunged and she cut your cheek toward your upper lip.

"You bloody cheek." You licked your lip and rolled your eyes. "I believe it's the hard way then" You tilted your head to the right.

"You've overcome your stay." Peg glared at you.

"Don't be daft now Margaret. We both know I have the high hand here." You wiped the blood from your cheek and sucked your fingers clean. You could see the blush rushing to her cheeks causing you to chuckle.

"You wanna taste?" You laughed as she looked away. You took the chance and grabbed her wrist twisting her arm behind her back causing her to cry out at the pain. She dropped the knife at your shoes and you slowly pushed her toward the couch and you pushed her down onto it.

Swiftly she turned around, trying to catch her breath. You both stared at one another. Blue into e/c eyes. Your breathing and hers seemed to grow into sync.

"Fuckery" She said under her breath as she crashed her lips into yours. You grinned into the kiss as she whimpered as she tasted your blood on your lips. The kiss hurt because of the cut she made but that wasn't going to stop you.

You both started stripping one another of your clothes to see the body underneath. Peg wasn't able to get any of your clothes off as you forced her hands above her head and you excessively sucked at her neck. Her blouse and shirt that was tucked into her skirt were discarded somewhere on the floor. Her black lacy bra made her breasts more appealing to you.

Slowly you pulled her skirt up toward her hips to met her matching underwear. "Fucking fantastic." You groaned into her neck. You made your way down her chest, kissing and nipping her skin. You eventually let go of her hands as you made your way down her stomach. Your hands found her thighs and she moaned softly.

"Stop teasing" She whimpered which made you chuckled wholeheartedly into her skin. Your hands found the fabric of her underwear and slowly pulled on it and let it go which snapped against her hip.

"Of course, ma'am." You grinned as you were down in her lap. Her hands found their way into your hair as she gripped and scratched your scalp.

"Just leave it to me." You pulled the fabric down her thighs to her ankles. You noticed the garter belt she wore and the very much matching garter belt and stocking she wore. You kissed her inner thighs that caused her to groan.

You made your way toward her aching core, with small touches and licks to her outer lips, she bucked her hips into your face. You chuckled as you watched the woman submit to you.

"Please" She whispered. You almost missed it due to hearing your heart pound in your ear.

Obeying her needs, you lapped at her entrance and used your fingers to enter her. She whined as you curled your fingers against the spongy area. With quick and small strokes, Peggy was a whimpering and moaning mess underneath you. Your tongue lapped at her clit which caused her pull on your hair and her thighs to twitch every now and then.

You would look up now and then to notice that she bit her lip from letting any noise escape her beautiful mouth. Slowly she reached her peak with her back arching, thighs crushing your head, and a rather loud moan that you were sure the entire street heard.

Peg let out a content sigh and smiled tiredly at you.

"I believe I owe you some money." You said as you pulled out the few hundreds from your pocket. That tired smile turned into a frown as you got up and kissed her roughly. You threw the money at her and fixed yourself up, not bothering to help the lady with her clothes.

"I'm not a whore. Y/n" Peg said venom dripping from her voice. "Oh believe me, I know, next time we'll see what comes out from your pretty little mouth." You laughed as you ran your fingers through your hair shaking out any tangles the other woman may have caused.

"You daft bitch." Peg growled as she fixed her skirt and put on her dress shirt and blouse.

You walked out smiling to yourself.

"I believe I owe you more then I thought,"

"Bloody hell you do." You laughed as you looked at the red head.

"Until we meet again Bet." You acknowledged her as you continued to walk down the street. Surely you wouldn't be going far. You still had unfinished business with Margaret 'Peggy' Sykes.

[starryserenade]

Myth and Magic Ch. 19: The Eye

Fic Description: When Tir Na nÓg--the fabled land of the fae--falls to a dark power, the destinies of two young mice are set in motion. As each struggle to make their way in an ever-darkening world, they must learn to trust one another, or risk forever losing that which they hold most dear.

Chapter Description: The party encounters new friends, and receives discouraging news. Time is running short, and hasty decisions must be made.

Links:

AO3

Prologue

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter: Coming Soon

~~~~

Minnie could hardly hear the others, though she knew they were arguing around her in panicked voices and desperate whispers. They were scared, and their fear drifted off of them into her own pounding chest, as if she needed any more of it. She was still cradling Mickey, who had quieted only for exhaustion but still writhed in her arms, blinking as if in a daze. His feathers fluffed and then flattened back and forth with no rhyme or reason, and a strange cooing bubbled from his beak every now and then, almost musical in sound. She wished more than anything he could just change back, certain that if she could only see his face she’d know just how to help, how to soothe the crazed look in his eyes.  

It was Clarabelle who approached Minnie first, kneeling beside her with a gentle touch to her shoulder to let her know she was there. “If y’ask me, darlin’, this is a siren’s work,” she explained.”

“But then…” Minnie started quietly, never tearing her eyes away from the little creature in her arms. “Why was he the only one..?”

“Well, you’ve got to remember, he’s not a mouse just now. He’s got the hearin’ of an owl, which is…well, it’s plenty different than ours, that’s for certain.”

“…knew that eejit’s mistake would cost us!” Daisy’s voice gradually pierced through the fog of Minnie’s fear, and she turned to look her way. The duck was arguing vehemently with Morgana, her cheeks a fiery red. “I just knew it!”

“Enough!” Morgana snapped, in a rare bout of fury. “There is more to this than you know! We still don’t know for sure what’s happened, but as it stands, his warning may have saved us all. You’d do well to thank him when he wakes!”

“ Thank him?! I-!”

“Daisy…” This time it was Minnie who spoke, her voice weak and broken. Daisy’s dislike of Mickey hadn’t gone unnoticed by her, but she’d hoped it would fade. Her friend had always been temperamental, prone to outbursts and strong opinions. Sometimes that was good. Other times it was…well, Minnie was tired. And scared. And presently, all she desperately wanted was for her friend to shut her beak and help . Her eyes must have said that in some sort of way, because when Daisy whipped her head around to finally, actually take a look at Minnie – and the bundle of feathers in her arms – she paled, and swallowed roughly, like she’d just now become aware of herself.  

She opened her bill, and then for once couldn’t seem to find the words. But that was all right. Silence was all Minnie needed, if that was what it took to keep the insults at bay. She simply couldn’t stand to hear them anymore, not with him in this state.

Morgana cast one last pointed look at Daisy, and then quietly made her way over to Minnie. She knelt beside her and smiled gently. “He’ll be all right, you know. It’s just a bit of spellsong, and he got himself away from the worst of it. Takes a strong faerie to do that much.”

Mickey squirmed uncomfortably in Minnie’s grip, and let out such a horribly pitiful sound that the tears she’d been holding back nearly burst through. “How do I help him?”

“Well-”

“Here.” The sound of another voice startled Minnie, but she looked up to find Daisy beside her, something lying in her outstretched palm. Minnie recognized it as a ribbon she’d been wearing in her feathers only moments prior.  She wouldn’t make eye contact with Minnie, seemed too ashamed to try. “Use this. Spend enough time around sirens and you learn how to block out their tune.”

It was an apology, the best way Daisy knew how to make one, and Minnie knew this. As she took hold of the gift, she squeezed her friend’s palm, got her to look back, and smiled. “ Thank you .” 

Daisy shifted under her stare – she never was good at this sort of thing – but then managed to smile back, and nod briskly. “Ha, what are friends for?”

Minnie laughed softly and turned back to Mickey, managing to calm him enough to tie the ribbon around his head, covering his ears. She kept brushing her fingertips through the feathers that lined his face and eventually he relaxed, slowly blinking up at her with those wide, full eyes that seemed to grow richer with every moment.  

“You’re all right,” Minnie breathed, relief flooding every bone in her body as she watched him settle. “You did wonderfully. Thank you for coming back to us.” He chirped weakly in reply and nestled into the crook of her arm. Even without his normal features, she could tell he was exhausted, and she wondered how much longer he’d have to maintain the facade. She couldn’t quite tell if it was helping or hurting him to stay this way. “Do you think you can try to change back?” she whispered, and he twisted a bit. “It’s alright if you ca-”

But he interrupted her with a short, tired screech, and had already begun to try to wriggle out of her grip. This was a whole ordeal in and of itself, full of sloppy wingbeats and a flurry of downy feathers as he tried to clamber out of her lap and onto the ground. Minnie was almost thankful for the brief moment of chaos – it was so Mickey that it left no room for doubt that he was now entirely back with her…in mind and spirit at least.

He stumbled dizzily on the earth once he’d finally landed himself there, and Minnie had to offer her arm to lean on more than once to keep him from falling over. When he’d finally steadied, shaking the dust from his feathers, he looked up at her and tilted his head as if to say, ‘now what?’

Obviously she had no clue, and they both turned to Morgana. 

“I truly am sorry for urging you into this so quickly,” the faerie spoke softly, setting her focus on Mickey. “I was worried we would not have time later on…but, ah, I’ll do my best to help you n-”

A chilling howl sounded throughout the forest and even with his hearing impaired, Mickey jumped and let out a screech before fluttering back up to Minnie’s shoulder. The other faeries and Morgana didn’t seem quite so afraid, Minnie noted, though an air of intense concern fell over them. There was something like recognition in the way they stood and looked towards the sound as if, whether foreboding or not, the source itself was of no danger to them.

The pulsing light of the foliage shuddered, and a brighter glow appeared in the shadows beyond, accompanied by the sound of…well, Minnie wasn’t quite sure what it was. Something like words…maybe? But garbled, wheezy, and completely indistinguishable, like whoever was speaking them (shouting, really) was trying to talk with a mouth full of something that was far too hot.

Beside her, Daisy drew in a breath and grinned, even as the rest of the mortal visitors tensed.  

“SLOWDOWNYACRAZYMUTT!” the voice came screaming through as the foliage parted and an enormous dog burst into the clearing, an infuriated rider on its back. The other members of the party yelped and gathered up their skirts (or, children, in the case of Goofy) as it came screeching to a halt. Before the grumbling rider had even a moment to gather themselves, they had been tackled from their place by Daisy who, to Minnie’s unparalleled shock, was kissing the person all over, even as he tried to scramble to his feet. 

“DONALD!!” 

Minnie wasn’t quite sure what to focus on–the dog who now sat panting at the center of them all, looking rather proud and silly all at once with its head held high, tongue hanging lazily out its mouth – or Daisy and her… lover , she assumed?  She realized now with a pang of guilt she hadn’t exactly asked her friend much about what she’d gotten up to in her absence – no wonder she’d not taken to Mickey as quickly as Minnie would’ve liked. 

On her shoulder, Mickey seemed just as uncertain as she was, feathered head swiveling back and forth between the two very chaotic situations playing out before them. He piped a baffled chirp into her ear, but all Minnie could do was giggle softly and continue to watch. “Don’t ask me,” she whispered. “Daisy’s completely unpredictable.”

By now, Daisy had ceased her smooching just long enough to go through an inevitable mood swing, and now she was sitting red-faced and pouting just beside the dazed duck. “I was worried SICK,” she scolded him angrily. “I sent word to you days ago and not a single whisper back!”

“But I DI-”

“DAYS, Donald!” she screeched, and now she was crying, as he sat uncomfortably beside her. 

“But I tried t-!” 

“WHAT WAS I SUPPOSED TO THINK?!”

And Minnie slowly came to realize that, if Daisy had sent word days ago, there almost certainly wouldn’t have been time for him to reply before they’d started off on their escape from the castle.  She had a feeling Daisy knew that too, but if she knew her friend, she was enjoying every second that Donald took to try to soothe her tantrum. Though she had half a mind to interject, she allowed Daisy just a moment more (only fair she should be rewarded for her earlier reconciliation) before speaking up. Then she piped in, an air of amusement in her tone. Whoever this Donald was, she knew she was rescuing him. 

“Oh, Daisy! Who’s your friend?” 

Sure enough, Daisy ceased her tears almost immediately and got a huge grin on her face. She grabbed Donald’s hand and yanked him to his feet, rather against his will, and Minnie saw then, with a bit of surprise, that he was a faerie too. He was wearing a simple cloak –as simple as you could get for faerie clothing, which still meant it was interwoven with all sorts of leaflike textures. There was a bluish hue to his attire that matched his wings, and he might have looked regal if the expression on his face wasn’t something of constant anxiety.   He looked a little familiar, she thought for a moment, but then the feeling passed. 

“Minnie! I never told you, did I?! This is Donald! (Say hi, Donald).” The rumpled faerie lifted a wary hand to wave hello, before he was altogether interrupted by Daisy who leapt in front of him and started rambling away. “We met before, don’t you remember? Back when  ______”

And then strangely, Minnie couldn’t hear a thing. Mickey also tilted his head and then looked at her, rubbing up against Minnie’s shoulder as if to shift the ribbon around his ears. Then he lifted his head and seemed confused as ever, which is exactly how Minnie felt. Daisy’s bill was still moving (boy, was it), and no one else seemed at all shaken by the sudden lack of sound it produced.  “Daisy, I’m so sorry, but I can’t hear a word you’re saying,” Minnie said at last, with a shy little laugh. “Can you speak a little louder?”

Everyone looked at her strangely then, and she felt a bit embarrassed, but Daisy was so caught up in her story she didn’t seem to mind. “Huh? Oh, sure! AND THEN______”

Minnie caught the first part just fine but then once again, the words seemed to vanish into thin air. Morgana seemed to catch her look – and Mickey’s – and raised a hand to stop Daisy from moving on.  “That’s enough, Daisy, thank you,” she chuckled, even as the duck glared at her. “We’ll have plenty of time to catch up later, but-” she knelt beside the dog, which had begun to whine beside her, and lent it a scratch beneath its chin. It wagged its tail happily. Mickey seemed to shrink back and released a wary chitter, eyes locked on the creature, and Minnie cast him a worried look, distracted by his anxiety as Morgana spoke. “Dear Pluto here wouldn’t have brought you here for nothing, Donald, and I have the nagging feeling it has something to do with our own worries, too. Is there trouble at the Haven?”

“Trouble’s an understatement!” Donald burst out, though it took Minnie a few moments to decipher his words. “TheWellspringdriedupandtheSidheattackedandthepixieshavebeen capturedandtherestareallcaughtupwiththesirensan-!”

“Slower, please, Donald.”

“The Haven has fallen!”

The faeries all drew back at that, and even Daisy’s eyes widened with fear. Morgana ran a hand through her feathers.

Everyone stared at her expectantly then, and it was as if the whole world was holding its breath. Then Morgana closed her eyes and balled up her fists, as if she’d just decided something wholly unpleasant. “I thought it was close but…” She sighed heavily. “Mickey. Minnie. I need to speak with you.”

Mickey and Minnie exchanged glances. The others looked at one another – all but Donald who just seemed lost. “Who? The bird?” 

Mickey screeched, and Donald covered his ears, looking very much as though he was about to give him a piece of his mind for that. But then Clarice darted over and whispered something in his ear, and he stopped dead in his tracks.

 “Changeling?” Minnie heard him whisper back, and the next look he cast Mickey’s way was one of strange respect. She wondered at that, as they followed Morgana a short distance away from the others. Pluto padded close behind, Mickey tossing wary glances his way all the while.

“You seem oddly terrified of this little creature, Mickey,” Morgana commented when they’d stopped somewhere just out of earshot of the group. Minnie giggled a bit at that and prodded him playfully. She was a firm believer that a bit of humor could soften any situation, and she had a feeling the next conversation was going to be anything but easy.

“Oh, he just doesn’t know a good boy when he sees one,” she laughed, and Mickey might have been frustrated if he hadn’t been soothed by Minnie’s scratches around his neck. “And after this sweet, little pup saved us, too!”

The comment seemed to trouble Morgana, even as Minnie knelt down to plant some pats on Pluto’s head. Mickey was frustrated then, but only because her attention had been taken from him. He clicked his beak, and jumped to her head to keep his distance from the dog. 

“You’ve met before?”

“Oh, yes! Mortimer was after us, and little – Pluto, right? – well, Pluto here led them away from us.”

“Ah,” Morgana breathed a sigh of relief then, and Minnie assumed whatever she’d been afraid of had been negated by her explanation. “Yes, that…makes sense. One of his roles is to protect travelers from the Sidhe and their allies.” 

“See!” Minnie laughed again, and held up an arm as she stood so that Mickey could jump back on it. Once he did, she poked him on the beak, giggling at the indignant squawk that escaped him. “Not scary at all! He’s just an innocent little puppy, that’s all. Nothing like how you described.”

Pluto panted happily beside her, puffed up by her praises.  They had stopped beneath a particularly luminescent mushroom and his white fur, tinged with a golden hue shimmered in the glow of the forest. 

Morgana froze.

“How…how did he describe him?” 

A fog had settled around them, the best indicator they had that night had finally fallen, and its wisps threaded around Minnie’s ankles in a soothing stream of mist. Minnie was so preoccupied with how the colors danced in its wake, that she didn’t catch the apprehension in her words. Mickey had gone silent, watching Morgana with even wider eyes. He had caught the tone. 

“Oh, it was from so far away at the time…I’m sure that was it,” Minnie giggled. “Something about a…a wolf? Isn’t that what you said, Mickey?” She laughed again, thinking it altogether ridiculous.

“With black fur?”

When Minnie looked up at Morgana, she was staring back at her with an expression she didn’t like. All at once, Pluto had begun to slink back, and Minnie’s smile faltered. “Y-Well…yes…” she breathed, that grin still gracing her lips but ever fading. “How did you know?”

Morgana didn’t reply at first. Her eyes were locked on Mickey, and Minnie could have sworn she saw her hands begin to reach for her heart, like something had just pierced her soul. “ Oh, child… ” she breathed, looking broken in a way Minnie didn’t think was possible for someone like her. But then she shook her head and it was gone, all but the smallest trace of something like sorrow. "Well..." she finally answered, only after swallowing hard. “You said it was from so far away,” she chuckled, though any humor seemed far detached from the sound. “It only makes sense he would have seen something like a silhouette. Silly mistake is all.”

Mickey nestled up against Minnie’s neck and she felt a shudder pulse through him. Suddenly, she didn’t feel like laughing at all. A suffocating silence settled over all of them, and the breeze at her heels felt more like ice, even in spite of the ever-warming air. 

“What did you need to talk to us about?” she asked at last, desperate to be rid of the feeling. 

The silence persisted even then, as Morgana stared off into the distance. She seemed to be debating something, like whatever she’d been so sure of asking had been thrown into disarray. Finally, she swallowed and released a decisive breath. “What do you both know of the Great Dragons, Fand and Lir?”

Minnie bit her lip, thinking back to the old faerie stories she’d grown up with. She’d known Fand to be a ruler or…protector of sorts of the faeries. And Lir, of course, was a grand hero to the mortals. Or had been once. 

“Only a little bu-”

Before she’d finished, Mickey had perked up and screeched, then seemed to forget he was speaking Owl at all and kept going, ruffling his feathers when he got too worked up and batting his wings to clear the tension of his words. Only they weren’t words, and Minnie couldn’t understand a thing, no matter how many times he looked at her as if he was expecting some grand epiphone or reaction. 

“Mickey, I can’t…Mickey, please…Mickey…”

Morgana clapped twice abruptly, and Mickey stopped mid-sqawk, tilting his head to stare at her. 

“What’s he saying?”

“He’s met one of them before, not too long ago.”

Minnie gasped and looked at him, then frowned. “You met a dragon and didn’t tell me?”

He looked down at his talons, and released a pitiful chirp. 

“There wasn’t time,” Morgana translated. “It was back at the castle, from what he says…”

And then she explained everything he’d seen and been told. About the witch, Magica, and the origin of the Sidhe. The ancient heroes and the Dragons’ egg – and their promise, that two souls would rise to restore its magic when it had weakened. And as her story went on, Minnie began to recognize just what Morgana herself was trying to say, however impossible it seemed. 

“You think it’s us,” Minnie whispered at last. “Don’t you? You think we’re the ones meant to restore the Egg.” 

“I wasn’t certain at first,” Morgana answered thoughtfully. “Rest assured, the other sirens and I came to your rescue at Daisy’s request, and I knew nothing of your powers. But a mortal granted life and magic in Lir’s domain? And Mickey – never mind Fand’s own blessing – I’ve not seen magic like yours from even the most skilled of faeries.” 

He ruffled his feathers then, and lifted his head proudly. 

“But if that’s true…” Minnie fiddled with the fabric of her dress. “What do we do now? Why can’t the dragons help us? What does this have to do with the Haven? And why-?” She thought about asking about her conflicting memories, but it seemed pointless now. Whether they’d been enemies long ago or not, it was clear she and Mickey were meant to be here together. Nothing could convince her otherwise now, she was certain of it.

“The Dragons…are no more,” Morgana answered gravely. Mickey’s demeanor fell at her words, and Minnie stroked a feather. She realized then what he must have seen, and why he’d neglected to mention it to her so far. “Without their power, the Egg’s magic is fading faster than ever. When it runs out, Magica will be free… and the worlds will die.”

As if to prove a point, a rush of hot wind swept across the forest, and the glow of the foliage dimmed. Morgana drew in a sharp breath and pursed her lips. She seemed sad then, a flickering sense of regret in her eyes and in the words she spoke. “None of this was meant to happen this way. I knew the Dragons, and they’d always hoped to help each of you grow before lending you their last bit of power. Magica’s interference made that impossible, but fate drew you to them regardless.”

She looked straight at Minnie then, and softened her voice. “I saw what happened during our escape, princess. That wicked king removed magic for a time, and it interrupted the spell keeping you alive. I knew then what you had to be. Lir’s magic flows through you, the power of the sea and all the memories its waters hold.

“And you, Mickey,” she continued. “There’s a light in your heart that’s undeniable, like that of the sun and stars. Fand had a presence among faeries like no other, and I felt that the moment you arrived. She imparted a gift upon you, I’m sure of it.”

Mickey leapt off Minnie’s shoulder and screeched. Morgana opened her beak to explain, but Minnie didn’t need a translation to know what he was saying. She felt it too. 

“He wants to help,” she breathed. “People are in danger – my people and his …all of yours. If we were meant to do this, tell us how and we will.” 

Morgana breathed another deep sigh, and Minnie saw that broken expression return to her, watched as it encompassed her whole demeanor. “Child…don’t make the mistake of thinking this story’s already been written. You may see yourselves the heroes, but heroes can fall. Are you prepared to shoulder the cost of this fight?”

A quiet breath escaped Minnie’s lips, but she felt a passion like no other roaring in her heart. She’d made the mistake of running away from her fears once before, and her people had suffered for it. Now she had the chance to save them from their fate, to right her wrongs. Even her own life was hardly too high a price to pay for that.

A quick glance at Mickey revealed a similar resolve, and he shifted his wings behind him as one might adjust their shoulders to stand up tall. Then he beat them once and let out a screech, and Minnie watched as those speckles drifted off his feathers to surround him in a whirlwind of magic. Whatever apprehension she’d been feeling melted away as she came to realize what was happening. When the dust had settled, he stood in front of her again. Not as the wide-eyed creature all swathed in feathers. But as Mickey. Just Mickey. Her Mickey.

She rushed to him and he swept her up in his arms, laughing all the while. In the moment he gently helped her back to the earth, when the tips of her toes had brushed against the grass and his hand still held her strong at her back, he took a moment to nuzzle against her cheek. A gentle whisper tickled her fur.

“Y’really think we can do this, huh?”

“As long as I’m with you, I think we can do anything .”

[folkloreguk]

French Class [2]

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this part! I’m excited to put out more parts soon!

genre: optional bias (m) x reader (f), smut, oral (f receiving), car sex, dirty talk, college!au, nerd!reader, fuckboy!bias

words: 4.4 k

✽series masterlist✽

taglist (lmk if u wanna be added!): @lovely-ateez

“And then he asked me if I would wear his tie around my neck while he- Hello? Earth to Y/N? Are you there?” Your roommate, Chohee, waved her hand in front of your face from across the table. You had occupied the seats in the back of the Chinese restaurant, in a niche where you were mostly hidden from other customers. Turns out, for all the spicy stories she had in store – as always – that had been a great idea.

“I swear your thoughts have been all over the place lately. Are you sure you have nothing to talk about?” She twirled a strand of her dyed pink hair around her fingers while she mustered you suspiciously.

“I’m sorry, I zoned out. It’s nothing, I’m just tired. I’ve been studying day and night. Looks like you’re the only one with the stories today. Just start again from the part where he got the whipped cream from the fridge,” you said.

“We went over that part five minutes ago! Have you paid any attention?” Chohee shook her head with a grin. Then she began her bedroom-adventure story from the beginning, because she knew as well as you, she loved talking about it.

Truth was, you had one hell of a story to tell. And no, you had not been paying attention. Not because you were tired. Not because you had studying on your mind. But because one hundred percent of your focus was currently directed at the boy only a few tables from yours. You only saw the back of his head, but there was no doubt about his identity. The mop of hair was unmistakable. Plus, he was in his famous black leather jacket. There was no mistaking this piece of clothing. It was decorated with white splatters of acrylic paint and had his name written messily across the top of his back. You could just about make out the tips of the letters as he leaned back comfortably, legs spread on his chair, chatting to his friend.

Chohee had no idea about the grip the person behind her had on you. She was your closest friend, and yet you hadn’t broken the news to her: You were hooking up (and not just once) with the so-called “hottest guy on campus”. AT least those had been her words when she had first told you about him. Lately you had to admit, you were starting to agree. It wasn’t like you wanted to keep secrets from her. In fact, on many occasions you had almost crumbled and told her the full story. Had she not been such a chatterbox, and did she not love gossiping as much as she did, you swore she would already know about your little arrangement with him.

She was aware of this much: You and him were casual friends. Study buddies, one would say. You had subtly passed over the little details of your friendship. How grocery store visits sometimes turned into visits to his dorm because of a simple text of his, or how you had sneaked out on more than one occasion in the middle of the night because he had told you his dormmates weren’t home. It wasn’t weird to Chohee that you brushed over the particularities of your “one-night-stands” when you returned in the mornings. You had never been as big on sharing as she was.

Maybe you wanted to keep things to yourself out of fear what people would say, too. You couldn’t care less whether people knew you were sleeping around. But everyone knew him, or so it seemed. Girls wanted him. Boys wanted to be him. All you desired was his friendship and some fun. You had no interest in being known on campus or having people you’ve never met giving you the side-eye over having sex with an oh-so-special boy. One day you would tell Chohee all about it. You weren’t technically lying. Just not sharing the entire story.

“Remember how I said H/N was the hottest guy ever?” Chohee suddenly said. The sound of his name made your head snap back to reality.

“Oh, now you’re listening, I see. All it takes is for me to mention your new bestie,” she teased. “You shouldn’t get too attached to him. I have a feeling that girls are interchangeable to him, either way. Anyway, I’ve decided I find his friend Korain much more attractive, since I’ve been hooking up with him.”

Would it be weird to correct her? To promise her, when you had more time and weren’t so distracted, you would lay the truth on her? He isn’t like that at all, you wanted to say. Yes, he liked female attention. But that didn’t make him a bad guy. Would it sound crazed to explain how he knew how you took your coffee, and how he sent you pictures of your favorite animals before your exams to take some of the nerves away? Or how he reported that it took him exactly 1,012 steps to get to your dorm from his place? Multiple times you had tried to count the distance yourself, but you never seemed to have enough focus to make it. Something always caught you off guard. You had doubted his credibility, but he swore he wasn’t bluffing.

Speaking of his friend Korain – who was at this very Chinese restaurant with H/N – he was suddenly making eye contact with you. Before you could slide lower into your seat like a frightened animal, he had grinned at you. Oh no. Prompted by his friend’s smile in your direction, H/N now turned his head. You were thankful Chohee was still deep in her explanation on why she had changed her opinions on the two very boys only a few tables away. If only she knew.

H/N’s eyes caught yours and a smirk plastered on his face. You assumed the tiny smile you sent him would do, but no. The two young men had collected their things and were getting ready to leave. The exit was the opposite direction, and yet H/N took the long way there. His stride was that of a model as he approached your table.

“Y/N,” he said, voice sweet like sugar candy and his smile charming like famous artwork. “You wanna hang at the library later?”

Chohee was now eyeing him as if she was your bodyguard and he was an obsessed fan who had crossed into your personal space. All you could think of was how you wanted him as your dessert. Now. But you had an exam coming up in a few days. So, his invitation fit just right.

“I’ll be there.” You smiled politely. He gave you a raised eyebrow, but then nodded, said goodbye, spun around and followed his friend out of the restaurant. When you looked at Chohee, she was already giving you eyes that asked a billion questions at once. Fantastic. Now you’d have to explain that “hang at the library” was not some sort of codeword for sex, but you had – against all odds – convinced the local prince of fuckboys that studying wasn’t such an atrocious idea after all. But fate saved you before you could begin your clarification.

“Oh no! Where has the time gone? I have to get to my afternoon lecture!” Chohee exclaimed, quickly gathering her purse and jacket. “My professor will curse me if I’m late again!”

And with that, she scrambled up from the table. “Don’t think you’re getting off easy just because I have to go! I demand a good story when I get home!”

You knew she was just being dramatic, and should you decide to keep everything to yourself for another month, she wouldn’t be mad. And yet, the urge to tell her crept up on you as you watched her hurry out of the door while waving one last time. Your morning classes had been the only appointment in your calendar for the day. So, with nothing else to do, you fished for your phone to message him for a time to meet at the library.

~

“What were you being so weird for earlier?” he asked as he plopped down on the wooden chair across from you. His books slammed on the table, and you flinched a little. Boys.

“Thanks for reminding me why I chose to sit in the group project area today. Could you be any louder in a library?” you said. “And thank god we’re the only ones here.”

“Thanks for reminding me that you’re still great at avoiding questions,” he returned.

“I just didn’t want my friend to ask questions.”

“So you talked to me like a five year old would respond to their kindergarten teacher? Are you embarrassed to be seen with me? The guy with the reputation?”

“No, I’m not. Wait? What? And what kind of reputation would that be, if I may ask? The you-only-sleep-with-a-girl-once-reputation?”

“You should know the nastiest rumors mostly prove to be false. I was thinking of something more delightful. Like a gives-the-best-head-on-campus-kind of reputation.”

You snorted. “And who is going to do the research to prove that?”

“Why don’t you look around and report back to me?” he smirked.

“No thanks. I’m already hooking up with a guy who’s more than a handful.”

He faked taking offence in your words with a theatrical gasp. “Is that so? The girl I’m hooking up with isn’t much better. Always asks to hang at the library like she doesn’t beg me to fuck her the second we get out of there.”

“Let me remind you that you were the one who suggested this place today,” you said. “I was ready to jump into your bed and you had to stall time like this.”

“Are you for real? What are we still doing here, then?” he asked, and you tilted your head with a suggestive grin that mirrored his.

15 minutes later:

“Who the fuck stores five umbrellas in their car?” You kicked another one off the backseat you were lying on. Your bra was exposed beneath your shirt which he had pushed up on your chest and was now attacking the exposed skin with hungry kisses.

“That’s what you get for not getting it on in the library,” he muttered against your skin without looking up.

“We’d be asking to get suspended from there by doing that,” you said. “And I cherish my library very much.”

He only made a snickering noise and shook his head before he went to take off his shirt – and promptly hit his head on the car roof. “Ow! This sucks. I can barely move.”

“That’s what you get for not waiting until we’re at your place,” you teased him with his own words. But judging by the prominent bulge in his pants, you supposed you didn’t want him driving anywhere. Not with naughty things on his mind, and with you next to him to only make him hornier. Your eyes fell on the dark purple spots on his abdomen, and you grinned.

“Wow. Someone must have worked hard to make that stomach even prettier,” you said.

“Yeah, you would know all about that, wouldn’t you?” He bent down to your ear and his husky tone sent cold shivers up your spine. Of course, you knew. You were the one who bit and sucked the hickeys into his skin two days ago, after all. His hands palming your boobs through your bra drew out a desperate sigh from you.

“Let’s play a game. What do you say?” he asked.

“What kind of game would that be?” Your interest was roused. He was lost in thought for a moment, hands slowly running up and down your exposed legs. Luckily, you had opted for a skirt today. All he’d had to do was to push it up to your belly and get rid of your underwear after your short but very steamy make-out session on the backseat. The cool air on your exposed core was only magnifying your impatience.

“Whoever comes first, loses.” You couldn’t suppress a chuckle at his idea, and he eyed you with indignation. “You don’t like it?”

“Everyone knows women take longer to orgasm than men do,” you said. “Are you trying to dig your own grave or what?”

“That’s why I’ll have a head start,” he announced. His hands circled the skin close to your core, creeping up your thighs slowly.

“And what’s the prize for winning?”

“The loser owes the winner a favor.”

“Too vague. I don’t trust you with that.”

“I don’t trust you, she says as she waits for me to fuck her in my car,” he mocked.

“I don’t trust your crazy ideas,” you clarified. “What about this? The winner pays for the loser’s next meal when we eat together.”

“Deal.” He slid his fingers over your pussy, and you crumbled into a whining mess within seconds. No matter how much your head denied it, he really was the best. He caught your clit between his digits and your eyes rolled to the back of your head for a moment.

“Shit, you only turn me on more if you’re going to moan like that.” He lowered his head and spit on your center, and the laughter that had been bubbling in your throat died in an instant. His fingers rubbed your nub fast and spread his saliva – without doubt his attempt at tipping you closer to the edge before he had even begun to fuck you.

“Too bad you find me so hot,” you said, and let out a purposely dramatic whimper, followed by his name in your best fake-porn-voice. His smile had something wholesome, as if he was admiring his friend making silly jokes, but also a glint of playfulness. You knew had been a mask when he bit his lip and exhaled slowly. With ease, he slid his middle finger into you. As he curled it against your sweet spot, he bent down to suck on your clit and your back arched at the sudden pleasure.

“Too bad you’re going to lose,” he said, and then continued his antics. Had he continued this way for another few minutes, his words wouldn’t have been so far from the truth. But you had other plans.

“Are you going to fuck me now?” you asked. “That’s enough of your head start.”

“I only just tasted you. Why would it be called a head start, if you’re going to stop me two minutes into giving you head?” he asked and you would’ve slapped his shoulder, had he been close enough. Instead, you closed your eyes for a few seconds. He was the competitive one here, and you didn’t mind enjoying yourself for now. Sighing in temporary defeat, your head fell back onto the seat. The sun was shining its last rays through the car window. They caught in his curled eyelashes and on his skin, coloring him golden.

“That’s a good girl,” he said, arm snaking around your thigh. He held on to you, but it wasn’t as if you could have moved away from him. Your head was right by the car door. His lips around your clit paired with his finger steadily rubbing against your sweet spot inside of you made you feel like floating. His free hand touched your leg gently, caressing your skin as if he wasn’t also simultaneously pushing you to the urge to yell out his name in pleasure. You tangled your fingers in his soft hair, as if you needed to do so to keep him in place. But something in the back of your mind still had a desire for winning. Trying to collect the last bits of your dwindling sanity, you hatched a plan. Good on you – you knew just what rode him into madness.

“I- I need you to fuck me, please,” you begged, making sure to add an extra layer of tragedy to your voice. “Please, I want it so bad.”

He looked up at you, a dark glint in his eyes. Of course, he did. All was going according to plan. It wasn’t like you had known him all your life, but you were perfectly aware of one thing. He could never resist your dirty talking and begging.

“Please?” you bat your eyelashes ever so longingly at him.

“Is that so?” He was now straightening up. His black pupils were dilated, and he was looking at you with the expectation of a loyal puppy waiting for his treat. You grabbed the front hem of his pants and pulled him towards you. In a moment, you had unzipped the material for him.

“I want you to fuck me like you did the first time we met. At the party,” you said. “Do you ever think about it, too?”

“Fuck, of course I do,” he said. Faster than you could register, he was ripping a condom wrapper and sliding it onto his free length. His cock stood angry and hard against his stomach. Perhaps your dramatic words weren’t so far-fetched. You couldn’t wait for him.

“Then do it, please,” you said. “Right now, this pussy is all yours. Use it the way it should be used.”

He muttered a swear under his breath and you knew he was in the palm of your hand. His hot breath fanned your neck as he bent over you, cock aligned with your exposed core. For a moment his length slid through your wetness, and he groaned at the warmth that was about to engulf him.

“I’m so fucking wet,” you moaned. “And all for you.”

You would have been lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the exaggerated show you were putting on for him as much as he did. Although, you weren’t sure whether you were allowed to call it exaggeration, at all. Your walls clenched around nothing as the tip of his cock touched your juices and he eyed you like he could’ve eaten you up right then and there.

When he finally entered you, he instantly sighed. His eyes were shut tightly as he dealt with the impact of feeling you around his shaft. A small spark of triumph went through you. That was, until he pushed your legs up and snapped his hips against yours. A sharp, sudden burst of pleasure shot through you and the coil in your stomach tightened all at once. You suspected your plan was backfiring slightly. Your words not only appealed to him and his famished mind and body. They also got to your head, and there you were, barely able to contain yourself under a load of blind hunger.

“You want me to fuck you senseless, huh?” he asked. His words went straight to your core. Nonetheless, you had a goal to work towards and you weren’t set on giving up.

“Yes, oh my god,” you whimpered. “That’s all I’m asking for. Please, I know you can. You always fuck me so well.”

In response, he rammed his body into yours so abruptly, you gave off a noise of surprise and pleasure at the same time. He bent his upper body over yours to support himself. His hands lay flat on the seat on both sides of your head. His thrusts made your legs shake now and then, when his cock hit that one spot inside of you. It was causing you to see entire galaxies on the inside of your eyelids. When you blinked up at him, the sun had disappeared beyond the horizon. Darkness had always suit him better than the golden sunset, either way. The muscles in his arms flexed and his eyebrows furrowed, and for a moment you called victory yours. But you couldn’t be sure for longer than a moment.

Because from one second to another he straightened up and slowed his thrusts. The gradualness had something equally as striking. He dragged his cock through your scarlet walls and his fingers found your clit. You drew out a ragged breath and cursed him for regaining the upper hand. Yet, you quickly abandoned the thought of defeat. When you allowed yourself to feel the pleasure, every last thought vanished at last. You moaned and whimpered helplessly. Without overthinking, you wrapped your hand around his wrist. He shot you a confused smirk.

“Too much, baby?” he said. “Think you won’t be able to handle it? A shame. It would really be too bad if you lost. You were doing so well up to now.”

You swallowed, hard. His patronizing voice tugged at your nerves and yet you loved when he spoke to you this way during sex. And he was aware of it – hence his knowing grin.

“Don’t stop moving,” you asked him to keep up his thrusts. “It’s not fair, otherwise.”

“Oh no. I would never dare break the rules,” he said.

He did as you said, and it only made things more mind-consuming for you. You were again reminded of the small tornado raging in the pit of your belly, threatening to consume you all over. It was only a matter of time. But what he could do, you could do better.

“Do you like fucking me in my skirt?” you taunted him, blinking ever so sweetly. Your eyes were dripping honey as you put on your most innocent gaze. “Am I pretty like this?”

“You’re the prettiest,” he muttered, biting his lip as if he was stopping a thousand moans from spilling out. “So. Fucking. Hot.”

“If I wear this skirt to class tomorrow, and you see me in the halls, will you think of this moment?” you asked. His fingers on your clit were shaky and moving unevenly. You might have been digging your own grave along with his. You didn’t care. Too many lectures you had wasted, barely able to concentrate because of the boy on top of you.

“Definitely. You weren’t wearing that earlier, at the restaurant,” he said. You wondered how many people had ever seen him this way – utterly breathless, all his cool vaporizing at once.

“Good observation,” you said, but you were struggling with your words as much as he was unable to keep calm. What was meant to sound lazy and seductive had morphed into a whimper and small sighs. “I wasn’t. I- I put it on just for you.”

He cursed again and abandoned all his remaining self-control. His grip on you was iron-tight and you clenched your fists. Oh, how you wished you could have buried your head into a pillow, or better even, the crook of a neck. Instead, you moaned his name almost soundlessly and searched for his dark eyes.

“Say my name again,” he demanded, like it was his last request on earth. So, you obeyed, only because you would have done anything for him right now, if it meant that he would keep fucking you that way.

“Oh my- my god,” you moaned. “Please don’t stop, fuck-“

“You look so hot right now, baby,” he groaned. “Shit- I could come just looking at you.”

“Then do it,” you said. Challengingly, you both smirked at each other. It lasted only the blink of an eye. You felt your insides twist before you could have prevented it. And all of a sudden, you crashed. Your intense orgasm erupted, and it took you several seconds to realize it, but then you heard it. His high-pitched moans, quiet and curse-stricken, could only mean one thing. You weren’t the only one, and therefore not the first to reach your high. A content smile spread on your face as his messy thrusts went on for a short while and you bathed in the remaining moments of bliss.

Silence set in as you both kept still to catch your breaths. You worried he would pin the loss on you, nonetheless, and inwardly braced yourself for his accusations. But to your surprise, he only laughed and collapsed on top of you. His breath tickled your neck slightly.

“We’ll be splitting the bill, I suppose?” he said. He straightened up to look you in the eyes playfully.

“Looks like it,” you said. You guessed his fighting spirit had been appeased and his energy had been spent on better things than arguing with you. You never minded it.

~

“Did you have a nice study session? Does the library lady assume you’re homeless and actually living there, yet?” Chohee teased as you entered your shared kitchen. She was typing on her phone but looked up when you only laughed.

“Is that a hickey?” she asked, and you knew you were done for. “What exactly is it you were studying? H/N’s body?”

“I guess I should tell you. Sooner or later, you’ll know,” you relented.

“Tell me what? Oh my god. Are you guys dating? Are you dating H/N?”

“No! You know I have no time for a boyfriend,” you said. “But…we’ve been hooking up.”

“Damn girl,” she said. “What do you have on him that he keeps coming back?”

“Excuse me? Am I really that boring of a company?”

“No. You’re the best company I could ever ask for, obviously,” she said, smiling at you. “But you remember his reputation. He sleeps with the same girl only once.”

“It’s just a stupid rumor,” you said. “Besides, we’re not just hooking up. He’s my friend. You already knew that.”

“Friend, huh?” Chohee asked. “Alright. So, you’re telling me he can hang out with you without trying to get it on?”

“He can, actually. And let me tell you, he’s cool. And pretty funny, too,” you said. She raised her eyebrows at you. “We’ve set some rules. We hook up, but also hang out as friends. Neither is allowed to be upset when the other turns down sex. We can both hook up with anyone else, still. No jealousy, no attachments. Just a good time.”

“Alright,” Chohee nodded. “If you’re so close, do you think you could introduce me to some of his friends sometime?”

You laughed, nodding. Chohee and H/N had quite some things in common, you realized then. Maybe that’s why you liked the two of them so much.

“Let’s see how long that lasts, then. Don’t wrap him too tightly around your finger, or he might trip and fall,” she winked. It was your turn to raise your eyebrow. Whatever she might have been insinuating – you had zero plans of making it reality. (Yet.)

[hogwartsfirebolt]

Desvelo (or: The Case of Subject A1534: Harry James Potter)

Draco turned on the recorder as soon as he walked into the lab. Two of his colleagues stood by the main table, fastening the unconscious subject’s limbs, and a third one handed him his notes, which he took without looking up as he unbuttoned the cuffs of his shirt and rolled up his sleeves.

There was a hum of magic around the body, keeping it safe, keeping it still. He forced himself not to think too hard about who it belonged to.

“What’s the status?” he asked the room at large, approaching the table.

“Alive, under a magically induced coma to prevent strain to the core. We haven’t identified the curse,” replied Zeller, holding her hands over the subject’s head to hold the charm. Draco nodded at her, turned his face towards the recorder and spoke clearly.

“This is Draco Malfoy, code DM17008512, head of the Dark Arts BioStudies division, reporting from Level 9, on the 25th of June, 2008.” He walked around the exam table, lowered Zeller’s charms and replaced them with his own, finding the subject’s vitals with his magical awareness. “Subject A1534, Harry James Potter, is alive, kept under a magical coma. Slight bradycardia, as expected, blood pressure of 110/60, core unstable at 250 joules and climbing by the second.”

The manic energy of Harry’s magic zinged his forearms, crazed, looking for an outlet. Draco felt it around his fingers, underneath his nails. He clenched his teeth.

“This is Rose Zeller,” she picked up as he fell silent, “code RZ19003276, member of the Dark Arts BioStudies division, reporting from Level 9 on the 25th of June, 2008. Subject Harry James Potter arrived unconscious in the emergency department of St Mungo’s Hospital in the early hours of the 24th of June, 2008, and was referred to the Dark Arts Biostudies division that very morning, after the medics failed to identify the curse responsible for his condition.”

Draco knew all that, and yet it made his hackles rise once again to remember what the medics had said, the call he’d received the previous day, informing him of his new subject. He looked at Harry’s prone form now, the easy rise and fall of his chest as the coma imitated sleep, the peaceful drop of his eyelids, and had to will himself not to think as he ran his hands down the tan neck, the long clavicles. This was just a subject, he told himself. Nothing was different. He cleared his throat, “Curse entry identified over second rib, at midclavicular line on the right side. Trifocal, seeming to suggest a curse of the Imperial family. No exit mark apparent upon inspection.”

He took his hands off the body, clasping them together so he could pretend they weren’t shaking, and retracted his magic, pulling it free of the magnet of Harry’s. It was quiet, only the static hum of the spells keeping Harry unconscious broke the silence of the insular room. His soft breaths. The occasional brush of Zeller’s pen against paper. Draco tried not to stare, and couldn’t. There was so much brown naked skin on display, so much history, that no matter how hard he attempted to root himself to the present, he found himself falling into memories of that body, of those hands, of years of watching. Years of wanting.

“No exit mark apparent upon inspection,” he repeated. Made up his mind. “Impossible to reach further conclusions until the subject is woken up. Zeller, Nott, rennervate him. I shall stabilize his core.”

It was a testament to how far he’d come that neither of them thought to argue. They moved, one of them standing at each of Harry’s sides, and Draco stayed near his head, reaching towards his core with his magic, coaxing it into stillness, easing it from the entropy the curse had unleashed.

“Rennervate,” Zeller and Nott whispered in unison.

Harry’s core cells shook against Draco’s hold, fought the intrusion for a moment, but he held on, and soon enough Harry’s eyes popped open, frantic, his body immediately battling the restraints, thrashing, attempting to free his arms and legs, to flee. But still Draco held on, and at last, when Harry looked up and their eyes met, he stopped struggling, as sudden as a bucket of water dousing a fire.

“Potter,” Draco muttered through clenched teeth, as he reined in Harry’s core cells. “You need to tell us what they hit you with.”

He felt Zeller’s magic join his own, take some of the brunt of Harry’s magic, lift a bit of weight off his shoulders. His breaths came more easily.

“W-what?” Harry asked, still confused, still looking at Draco, only at Draco.

“You’re in the Department of Mysteries,” Draco said, “you were attacked. Do you remember what they hit you with?”

“I don’t— what? Department of— Do I know you?”

“Boss, his core is nearing 300 joules,” Nott said. “We need to put him down again.”

But Draco barely heard him. “You don’t remember me?”

Harry blinked, confused, tried to stand up, shook his wrists against his restraints when he found he couldn’t. “No. I was hit?”

“Yes, with a curse. Did you have the chance to hear what it was?” Zeller asked when Draco, stunned into silence, didn’t continue the interrogation.

“A curse? I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Harry said. “Did you kidnap me? I — what’s happening?”

“Boss, core at 325”

“You’re the boss?” Harry asked Draco, looking right into his eyes once again. “I thought… you feel familiar but I don’t really—?”

“Boss, 350.”

“Mr Potter,” Rose said, “We really need you to...”

“Potter?” Harry asked.

Draco felt faint.

“360”

“Am I—?” Harry didn’t look away from Draco, his eyes pleading.

“380”

“Put him down,” Draco said.

Nott did.

The silence that followed ringed in Draco’s ears. They were all quiet, stunned into it. Harry lay unconscious on the table once again. Draco could still hear his pained confusion.

“Subject appears to suffer from severe amnesia,” he said at last. “Recording over.”

-

They’d kissed once.

It could almost have been passed off as an accident, brief and light as it was.

To Draco, it counted.

It had been four years before, the night Harry graduated from the Auror Academy. Him and the other 24 graduates had piled up into a bar and made a big deal of it, gotten drunk out of their minds. Draco’s presence had been a mere coincidence, his getting drunk a very conscious decision once he’d seen the boisterous, red-coated lot.

His memories were confusing, the images blurring into each other as the night progressed in increasingly drunker increments, but he remembered stumbling into the bathroom and finding Harry there, broad shoulders free of his coat, with Ron weeping into his arm and saying, “I just love you so much, you’re my best friend I love you sooo—“ and Harry patting his shoulder and saying, “I know, I know, I love you too.” He remembered, somehow, ending up at their table. Doing shots with them. A confusing few minutes on the dance floor. He remembered standing outside the bar in the rain and then, right there, the kiss. He couldn’t remember what had led up to it, but the fact of it had sobered him up immediately, and he remembered it, crystal clear, himself leaning against the wall, wet from the rain, and Harry, a long line of heat along his side, their lips pressed together. He remembered pushing for more, and then Harry pulling back. Harry saying, “Oh god.”

Then, the night dissolved in his mind and the next thing he remembered was waking up the following morning, hungover.

He’d not seen Harry for weeks after that, and when they’d finally met again at an interdepartmental meeting, Harry had given him a mere nod, eyes sliding right past him. As if nothing had happened. Perhaps, to him, it hadn’t. But to Draco, it counted.

-

“What’s the plan now, boss?” Nott asked him, droplets of sweat high on his brow from maintaining the charm keeping Harry down.

Draco took a deep breath. “We got some information. Find all references to amnesia linked to a curse of the Imperial class on the records.”

“On it.” Zeller said.

Harry lay unconscious once again, incongruous in the calmness of his induced sleep. A tamed lion. Draco reached forward, removed his glasses, folded the temples carefully. Then, he ran his knuckles along the dark, freckled cheekbones.

“I’m going to talk to The Professor,” he said. His colleagues hummed their assent.

The Professor’s office stood right at the end of Level 9, a door you might not see if it didn’t feel like being seen, in a corridor that, at times, didn’t exist at all. Fitting for the head of the department of mysteries.

The door opened for him before he knocked, which told him he was expected. When he walked inside, Hermione Granger stood beside her desk, two books in her hands.

“Professor,” Draco said. “You heard the recording.”

“Yes,” she replied, fingers quick on the pages of one of the books she held. “I want nothing more than to go see him myself, but I have to meet the minister right now. I did find these, I hope they help,” she handed Draco the books, one of them open to a specific page. Her level, browned eyed gaze was harsh on him. “The only reason I’m not storming your lab is that I know you’re capable. Take care of him.”

“I will.”

She nodded. “Do whatever it takes to bring him back.” He would.

Back in his lab, Draco sat on top of his desk and paged through the books Hermione had given him. The first one, the one she had handed him open, was on mind magic.

The dissolution of memories following an attack with dark magic, the title read at the top of the page.

A clear marker of mind magic is its lightness. Schuester and Neels classify the magical particles that travel through neurons as a follow-up to their natural action potential into two large groups: permalight and everblue. The permalight particles possess an immutable quality that ensures their stability, whereas everblue particles, in charge of the pathways pertaining to memory, when disturbed by specific dark curses (especially those dealing with the proceedings of the magical center in the medulla oblongata) become overactive, releasing an increased amount of energy that forces the magical core into a state of overcompensation. Cases with magical cores that reach up to 500 joules have been documented, and the main consequence is a loss of the overactive everblue particles and the resultant dissolution of memories.

“Found it,” Draco said, marking the page down and putting the book aside before reaching for the second one. “Nott, give me a rundown of the state of his everblue particles.”

“Got it,” Nott replied. After a couple seconds, he added, surprised, “the everblue particles are… going haywire, just frantic, it’s hard to say. They’re definitely more active than they should be.”

“Attempt to stabilize, give me a second,” Draco opened the second book. It was a Mind Potions manual. He paged through it, looking, looking, until he found what he was looking for. “McKinney, get me a silver cauldron.”

“There’s an antidote?” Zeller asked.

Draco nodded. “It will take a few hours to brew, but if I’m right, he should be out of here by tomorrow morning.”

“Baseline?” McKinney asked.

“Memory potion. Get me one as well, I’ll modify as needed.”

In a second, they were all working again. Draco went to the supply closet and picked out the ingredients carefully, one finger over the page that held the instructions. If he did it right, Harry would be back the next day. That was all that mattered. That was all he cared about.

“You need help?” McKinney asked him when he took the cauldron from her. He didn’t, not really, but one look at Harry lying on the exam table and at the clock on the wall had him nodding.

He would bring him back, and he would do it as soon as possible.

“Yes. Chop the staghorn.” He got the fire going, crushed the neem leaves, squeezed the valerian root. Together, he and McKinney completed the ingredient list, and Draco added them to the cauldron one by one, paying attention to the scent of the fumes, the color of the smoke. Once he had a royal blue potion, he turned the fire down.

“It needs to simmer for two hours. After that, I’ll need your help to wake him up and make him drink it.”

Mckinney cringed. Draco nodded, sympathetic. He wasn’t keen on forcing Harry, either.

“Will he have his memories back, boss?”

“The important ones, right away. He should remember the rest in the next few days.”

“Everything he remembered before?”

Draco nodded. “If I did it right, yes.” He was looking at the clock, at the slow tick of the thin hand marking the seconds. “You should all go grab lunch, I will need you sharp. I can guard the subject.”

They all recognized it as the order it was and, after taking off their aprons and offering to bring him coffee once they returned, they left him alone. The room was eerily silent in their wake. Draco brought a stool next to the exam table and sat there, right beside Harry. His hand, wide and open, lay next to his body. Draco swallowed, brought his hand up and ran the tips of his fingers down Harry’s palm.

Would he remember, Draco wondered.

He supposed it didn’t really matter.

-

When he’d mentioned the graduation party, over a year after it happened, Harry had simply stared at him blankly.

“You were there?” And then, sheepish, “Oh, man, I was so drunk I don’t remember a single thing. I’m sorry, did I do something embarrassing? Do you have embarrassing stories about me?”

Draco laughed it off, relayed the story of a weepy Ron in the bathroom of the bar, and Harry laughed along.

They’d become friends by then, were already past the tentative first drinks, well into the stage of inside jokes, of shared meals. And now Draco knew that Harry didn’t remember.

For a while, he willed himself to forget. Once he realized it was impossible, he resigned himself to living with his one-sided crush. Harry’s friendship was already so much more than he could’ve ever hoped for, his hyper-distilled attention heady enough as it was. It was enough.

-

“Ready?” Draco asked, holding the vial between his fingers. Zeller, Nott and McKinney stood at Harry’s sides. He waited for their nod before giving the order, “Now.”

“Rennervate.”

Once again, Harry woke up fighting, struggling with his binds before even becoming fully conscious. This time, though, Draco was right there, a hand to Harry’s sweaty nape, the short hair at the back of his head.

“Hey, it’s okay. Harry, wake up.”

Harry did, his eyes overtaken by his pupils for a couple seconds before adjusting to the bright lights of the lab. He looked at Draco, right at him as he had before, just as confused. “What’s happening?”

“You lost your memories,” Draco whispered, disarmed by the absolute trust in Harry’s eyes. “We can help you, but you have to drink this. Will you?”

He showed him the vial. Harry eyed it, swallowed. “Yeah, okay.”

Draco breathed out, relieved. “Here, I’ll help you.” He tipped Harry’s head back, brought the vial close to his lips. “It tastes good, I promise. I made it specially for you.”

Harry nodded, didn’t look away from him for a second as he swallowed, and soon enough, the vial was empty.

The potion acted immediately. The monitors beeped as Harry’s pulse skyrocketed, his breath quickening, but his core began to regain stability, the number climbing down from 400. His hand shot forward, clung to Draco’s arm, and Draco let him, watched him ride the waves of memories.

At last, Harry’s eyes fell closed, a faint sheen of sweat covering his forehead. The monitors showed his core at 80 joules.

“What’s your name?” Draco asked softly, gently.

“Harry James Potter,” Harry whispered, eyes still closed. He brought a hand up, covered his eyelids.

“Do you know what they hit you with?”

“Desvelo”

Unveiling.

Draco nodded at Zeller. She nodded back, took off her apron and walked out of the lab, to investigate previous uses of the curse on their records. Draco turned back to Harry.

“Do you know who I am?”

Harry stayed still for a moment, then nodded, a slight jerk of his chin. He didn’t say anything.

“How are you feeling, Harry?”

“My head really hurts.”

Draco moved his sweaty hair away from his forehead, still gentle, still speaking low. “Do you want a painkiller?”

Harry nodded.

“Nott, bring me ibuprofen, 650 milligrams,” he didn’t turn to see if Nott had listened, instead ran his fingers through Harry’s hair once again. “Anything else?”

He saw Harry’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Yes. Back when— On the day of my graduation I—“

“Oh god, no,” Draco said quickly, hands stilling in Harry’s hair. “You don’t have to say anything. Please, just… you need to rest.”

“I do. But… we’ll talk about it later?”

Draco took a deep breath. “Yes. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Good.”

This is my gift to the amazing, lovely @onbeinganangel for the Wheel of Drarry Mini Exchange. Mari, you are the absolute loveliest and just, omg, give all of us on the server so much every single day, with your time and encouragement. It was a joy to get to write for you. I really hope you like it!! Infinite thanks to @moonstruckwytch for betaing this for me ❤️

[jschlattsbabydoll]

Ocean Away (Chishiya Shuntaro X Reader)

Plot:

After Chishiya has left you in a game, you understood his true nature. You decided to leave the beach with the approval of your uncles.

 A/N: Hello! So I’m back.

I just want to let you all know, that Yes… I know that this might be a too much off a stretch, since Hatter and Aguni is your uncles.

And yes, I kinda hurried making the story, because I have a lot of errands for tomorrow and later, I would be asking for a rest day shift, because, I need extra money, and I need to pay bills… I hate adult life.

 BTW, I found this Inspiration towards the song, “OCEAN AWAY by Loreen.”

You can listen to the song and I’ll leave a link to the song.

 Anyways, If I have any lapses or mistakes on the story, please let me know! I’ll be happy to receive criticisms in my story, I would know where to improve more.

 Thank you so much and please enjoy! 😊

   xoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxoxo

Ocean away Part 2

  “Can I make a request, Uncle Hatter?”

 The man looked at you, “What do you request?”

 “Can you hide me away from the beach?” you said, as you looked at him, you sat on one of the chairs that are inside the royal room, “I need to run away from someone.”

 Hatter looked at you, “What’s going on?”

 You smiled, but tears fell down your face, “I didn’t know that heartbreak felt this way.”

The man in front of you went near you, knelt down and held your hand gently, “I just want to get away. The games are stressing me out and I can’t get this feeling get in the way of what our plans are, Uncle.” You breathe out,

 “I should be strong like mom was like back in the real world, but I’m not her, I’m weak. “, you cried out, and Hatter hugged you, his tear fell as he heard you talk about your mom.

 Hatter, Aguni and your mom had been best of friends since they were in high school, She would take you whenever she would visit Hatter’s shop and Aguni would be there and you four would have lots of fun. Talking about dreams and happiness.

 But your mom died due to a heart attack, and your two uncles have decided to take you with them. But, suddenly in your high school years, they disappeared like a bubble and people around them had no clue on where they might have gone to.

 Just when you have graduated college, went you entered the borderlands and heard of the beach. You saw them again and got reunited with them again.

 They given you a high number of place in the beach, so that when the time comes you could easily come back to the real world and be reunited with them again.

 “I won’t betray you and uncle Aguni. You can know where I am hiding, and I promise to still give you all the cards that I would win. I won’t betray the utopia that you have brought to us.”

As Hatter removed the hug from you, “I will settle the plans Agni-chan. Are you sure about this?” he asked,

 “Yes I am.” You said that you wiped the tears out your face,

 “You’re not weak, my dear. Sometimes we just need some air to breathe in so that we can learn to properly function again.” He said, as he helped you wipe your tears, “I know that your mom is so proud of you up there. And Agni and I would keep you safe and happy.”

 You hugged your uncle again, “I love you, Uncle Hatter. I’m sorry for the bother that I became.”

  After a while, Aguni and Hatter has spoken about the plans of you hiding somewhere in Tokyo. Aguni has suggested that it should be done after a game that they would play, so that they can drive you to a hiding spot secretly.

 “We can hide you tomorrow, Hatter and I can join the game since our visas are running out.” Aguni has told you, and you nodded.

 “Just incase that you need some help, I will give you a walkie talkie. Just give a beep and we will be there. We would be giving you some supplies while we hide you out.”

 “Thank you, Uncle Aguni and Uncle Hatter.” You said,

 After Hatter has left the room, you and your Uncle Aguni was left in the royal room,

 “I told you not to be acquainted with people here in the beach. People here won’t take relationships seriously, especially that we in this type of crisis. People will use you for their advantage and for their satisfaction, just to get out of this world.” He scolded you, but you did not respond. He did in fact told you not to fall in love in the borderlands, but you were just too hard headed.

 “and knowing Chishiya, he’s using you for his gain. He’s not that clever, and I know he has plans… I’ve known him before you entered the borderlands, he’s manipulative. He had used too many others inside the beach… I don’t know why he’s still keeping Kuina… but, I know that Kuina is smart.” He said, then he looked at you, “I’m not saying that you’re not smart, you’re smart, my child. But it’s just Chishiya has got you into his hands.”

 “Have you told uncle Hatter? About chishiya, I mean?” You asked,

 “No… no I haven’t. I won’t tell him. He’s….” he closed his eyes, “He’s too far gone…Do you remember when he found out that people were hiding card from him…”

 Definitely… You remember was your uncle has done… dead bodies in a room, he’s still kicking and punching one of them, no life on the person’s eye. Your Uncle Aguni went in front of you to shield you.

 “Agni-chan…. Y/n… I found that they have been hiding card from.” He said in crazed eyes, “We will be setting a new rule… ‘Death to the traitors.’”  

 Still the memories haunt you to this day… You nodded to your Uncle…

 “I don’t want him to go that route…” He admitted

 “I don’t want him too either.” You said sadly,

 “If he founds out that it was Chishiya … And that he has manipulated you, I don’t know what he can do… Or Chishiya can do. Especially that they are both executives.”

 You’ve seen Chishiya in games… He has no mercy, no feelings that all. When he told you that he loves you, you didn’t feel anything in his confession, but smirked when you told him that you loved him too.

 When you were with him in a Five diamonds game, he was ready to sacrifice you. He left you when you needed him. But after all of that, you still come to him like his pet. You wouldn’t have survived at all if Arisu didn’t came, saving you from being drowning.

 “So, you’re telling the whole beach that I’m dead, Uncle?”

 “Yes.”

 You breathe in and out, you stood up from where you were sat down.

 “I’m going to bed, uncle Aguni.”

 “Please be careful, My child.” He said, you looked at him, and you smiled, “Thank you, Uncle, say good night as well to Uncle Hatter for me…”

 “I will.” He said, and you turned your back, and left the room,

 As you went to towards that room that you were staying in, you saw Chishiya waiting on your doorstep, he slowly looked at you and grinned, you walked towards him,

 “Hm… Had a talk with your uncles…” he asked,

 “Yeah. They just asked me if I was still alright or good.” You said, you avoided looking into his eyes, “Something is bothering you. Tell me, what did your uncles tell you?”

 “Nothing… They just told me not to be acquainted with somebody here from the beach.”

 “And?” he pushed more, he caught me by the eye,

 “We will play the games tomorrow… I will be going with them.” You said,

 Chishiya looked at you in the eyes, trying to look for more answers, “You have a lot of days in your visa. Why bother playing the games together with your uncles.”

 “I want to join them by tomorrow. Not every day I could spend time with my father figures.”

 Chishiya looked away from, “Hm.” He just only replied.

 Feeling tired with the conversation, you decided to enter your room, he followed you in as soon as the door closed, you faced him again, “What would you do if I suddenly got lost or suddenly disappeared.”

 Chishiya didn’t reply immediately, but smirked when he thought about the answer, “Why would you suddenly disappear?”

 “I don’t know. You know that a lot of things could happen here in the borderlands.”

 “hm…” He just said, as he went towards your bed, and sat there. His hands went to his side, and tapped on the bed to signal that you should sit with him,

 You followed his instructions, but after sitting down, you let yourself fall into the bed, you closed your eyes and you felt the bed hit your back, you opened your eyes and you saw Chishiya on top of you looking directly at your eyes,

 “Don’t leave me.” He said, as he slowly went down to press his body towards yours, he went ahead and placed his lips to your, his tongue asking for entrance, you let him enter. As your mouths asked for dominance, he took both of your hands on the top of your head,

 He let go of the kiss and went straight to you neck and left kisses.

 “I won’t… “, You lied,

 “I love you.”

 “I love you too.”

.

.

.

.

.

Ocean Away Part 2

[brat-tamer69]

Dead Branches and New Leaves

♡ Summary: Levi’s relationship with his son Eren reaches a new low, and Y/N is there to confront Levi in an effort to rebuild. Very much inspired by this picture and in response to this request.

Part Two TBA

♡ Notable Tags: AU, Married, Parenting, Levi x Fem!Reader, Broken family, daddy issues, argument, angst and over 3k words holy shit!

❥ Disclaimer: Levi and his actions in this are not intended to be perceived as anything other than him being emotionally unavailable. He lost his temper and it is acknowledged numerous times that he is remorseful. I would like to emphasize that he is not emotionally or verbally abusive but this content may be upsetting to some readers. Please use your own discretion if you are sensitive to the topics.

♡ Send requests here!

Levi’s head instinctively whipped around to face the house’s front entrance when the screen gritted against the doorframe’s track. If he was not mistaken, his son would come bounding into the house from the front yard to ask for yet another snack. And Levi would once again shave down a carrot and before handing it over so it could be crunched down in seconds. How the kid had the energy to take off and put on his rain boots so many times in such quick succession, Levi didn’t know. But Eren did thankfully understand that if not for that talent, his dad would rip him a new one for tracking mud onto the freshly mopped tile.

As if summoned by thought alone, the percussive pattern of little feet hitting the floors echoed, and the urgency in it suggested that he was running. Levi pressed his lips together and closed his eyes, trying to cling onto what felt like the last second of peace he might have since Eren was running.

“Dad! Dad!” the toddler addressed him shrilly.

“What is it, runt?” Levi sighed and rotated in his spot in front of the stove to face his son.

“I was playing outside, and- and there was a big boom in the sky! And- And I wasn’t scared at all,” he added matter-of-factly. “But there was a little kitty outside, and I think him was scared.”

Levi stared down at the boy, bemused by how he managed to squirm and point every which way during a ten-second-long story. He then shifted his gaze back in the direction of the screen door, praying that Eren had possessed enough sense to close it behind him on the way in as the heavy rain had been accompanied by wind all morning. Levi had bargained with Y/N to support his stance of keeping Eren indoors but, in exercise of her wonderful parenting strategy, she insisted it would be better for him to play outside and get used to the daunting nature of thunderstorms.

Well, it’s working, Levi noted as he circled around the “big boom” Eren pointedly mentioned he wasn’t scared of. Still, his concerns were loyal to the furry little pest that seemed to be taking shelter in his front yard. “It’s ‘he was scared’,” Levi corrected. “And that’s too bad. Maybe he’ll run off somewhere safe on his own.”

Eren deflated, his shoulders and his volume falling while the size of his eyes grew. “But what if he can’t, Dad? What if the rain gets him sick?”

“Then the rain gets him sick,” Levi shrugged. “Not everything is meant to survive in this kind of weather, Eren. Besides, he might already be sick if he’s out there hanging around our house.”

An indiscernible emotion flashed across Eren’s face and disappeared just as quickly Levi picked up on it. But before he could engage, Eren was sprinting away and to the front yard again.

“Whatever,” he mumbled to the likes of himself. One thing he’d learned since become a father was that the less he knew, the better. If Eren did do something drastic like fall into a puddle of mud or befriend a sickly cat, he would scale the mountain of mishap once he approached it. For now, he had his focus on finishing dinner just as he promised his wife he would, and that was all he had the mental energy to do.

Perhaps one too many moments passed where Levi worked on simmering his kimchi nabe in the quiet, the slightly gentler rain being the only noise in the background. As he replaced the lid to the pot, he seemed to simultaneously sink back into reality. The thunder had finally ebbed. Y/N was still working on hemming some of Eren’s new clothes…

And Eren. The damn toddler that was notorious for popping up for snacks and attention hadn’t reappeared once in the past twenty minutes. The thought made Levi’s mouth dry and his throat swell faster than they would if he’d have swallowed a handful of cotton rounds. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered. A clenched fist still equipped with a ladle, Levi set a brisk stride toward the front yard where, if his nonexistent god had any mercy, Eren would still be playing in the rain.

During the walk, the rain, the shuffle of his house slippers against the tile, and every other noise slowly faded. All he had in his ears was the vivid imaginary scream of his wife as she found out her son went missing under his watch. And the image of Eren with teary eyes burdened by fear was not any kinder to his growing panic.

“Shit–” he spat.

“Momma said that’s a curse.”

Levi looked down at the origin of the voice, the relief he felt in seeing Eren standing in front of him in perfectly healthy condition lasting but a second. It was instantly replaced by rage. As the panic drained from his body, every inch of him became ignited by disgust, disappointment, grief and a slew of other emotions he was too angry to even process. The blankness in his mind caused by the adrenaline rush was being filled in by the stench of the sopping wet stray cat being held out in front of him. “Eren…” he seethed in a low voice. “What the hell is that?”

Eren chewed his lower lip in hesitation. Levi almost wrenched when the boy had the gall to hoist the rancid being up higher, as if his father wanted to inspect it. “It’s the kitty! See?” he answered in earnest. “It’s the kitty I told you about! I told him to go find a new house so he doesn’t get sick, but he didn’t want to! And his tummy is bleeding, too!”

A soaking wet, bloody, feral cat. Levi didn’t know if he should give in to the hysterical, exasperated laughter bubbling in the depths of his stomach or if falling to his knees and sobbing would free him from the chaos he felt. Helpless to his anger toward his own child, all he could do was touch his hand to his face in a feeble display of his emotion. The outwardly endless consequences to Eren bringing a bleeding cat inside the house started to appear in his mind one by one, each adding to the pressure he felt building underneath his temples.

“Daddy?” Eren squeaked.

Levi was so distracted by his inner turmoil that he hadn’t even realized the minutes of silence that passed between them. “Go put it outside and wash your hands. Now.”

By the particular tone of voice his father used, Eren knew better than than to disobey him—even a single casual command from Levi would normally be enough to move him. But after trading glances between his dad and the injured cat, Eren shook his head.

Levi was in disbelief. He could feel his heart racing with every ounce of searing blood it sent through his veins. His hand trembled as it gradually fell from his face to reveal a nearly crazed expression, his eyes opened as wide as they could go but his brows furrowed impossibly low over them. “Did you just shake your head at me, boy?”

“Uh, well, the- the kitty is scared and has blood on him,” Eren gulped. “H-He can’t stay outsi–”

“Put it outside. And the next time I have to repeat myself, I’ll put you and the damn cat out.”

A small gasp escaped Eren’s quivering lips, but he swallowed it quickly before tucking the cat underneath his arm and escaping out the front door in a flash. Levi sucked in a shuddered breath, only now noticing the thick, brown splatters of mud and the droplets of red that created a trail to the yard and soiled his previously spotless tile.

“What happened? Where’s Eren?” Y/N’s soft voice questioned as she paced into the kitchen. “I heard you raise your voice. What’s going on?”

The worry in his wife’s shaky words gave way to her equal distress if not for the hand gently laid over her heart. It was enough to draw the ire from Levi’s body. Like the bright red leaving the eye of a cooling stove, anger steadily seeped from parts of him he wasn’t even aware were tensed. His set jaw unclenched, he lowered his shoulders and his fingers loosened from their intense hold on the ladle.

“Eren,” Levi replied to his wife in a breath at long last.

“Eren what?” she urged, her pupils growing.

“Eren’s fine. He just brought a fucking dying cat into our house.”

Confusion distorted Y/N’s features while her eyes moved frantically across Levi’s face in search for some sort of unspoken answer. When she didn’t receive it, she whirled around with a small huff then grabbed a fistful of her skirts and hurried to the front yard.

By her reaction itself, Levi knew he was finished. Y/N’s kindness knew no bounds in even the most stressful situation. In circumstances where his own instinct would be to react first, his wife was guided by the purest ethics; she would comfort, ask questions then gather herself enough to find a solution. But her consideration skipped him this time, and it was because she was livid with him. Levi could tell that much.

Bending at the knee to retrieve the cleaning supplies from the cabinets, he expelled a wearied sigh. He figured there was no better way to postpone is annoyance with the situation than by losing himself in the pleasures of cleaning on his hands and knees. He forced himself to focus on the acrid scent of chemicals burning his nostrils instead of the gut-wrenching sobs he could hear once his wife opened the front door. He tried to remember which solution was best to polish the ivory colored tile, but god damn it, he couldn’t think when he saw Eren’s little body, defeated and dripping wet, shuffling down the hall. His knuckles blanched as he all but strangled the cloth, putting all his upper body strength into scrubbing away what little remained of the muddy footprints.

Y/N watched Levi in silence for a brief period, absorbing how pathetic he looked down on the floor, frantically erasing the nonexistent spots while his son cried himself to sleep in the other room. She didn’t know what possessed her, but her nails were starting to dig into her palms in effect of how hard she was trying to contain it. If not for the pitiful picture of her baby boy standing outside, wailing over the corpse of a cat, she might have been frightened; she had never felt this way about Levi. But today was different—for everyone.

Levi released his rag and sat back on his heels when the shadow of his wife fell over him. At the same time, a coldness that he was far from feeling fell over his eyes. He could only hope it would protect him even a little bit.

“What the hell did you do?” Y/N demanded of him through her teeth, her voice faulted by an emotional tremolo.

He rose to face her and swiped his palms over his apron. “I did what any parent would do if their kid brought in a dying cat from outside. I told him to put the vermin back where he found it and wash his hands.”

“You cursed at him,” she sneered. “And you threatened to put him out of the house if he didn’t listen to you. It’s raining!”

He tried to keep his voice leveled though his need to emphasize his point superseded the attempt. “Well, if he listened to me the first time, I wouldn’t have cursed. And he’s a smart kid– He knows I wasn’t going to put him out.”

Already jaded by the argument, Levi mentally readied himself for Y/N’s rebuttal. But it didn’t come. Instead, her open hand flashed across his line of peripheral vision, and if it weren’t for his unique reflexes, it would have left a bright red print on his left cheek. Overwhelmed by the sequence of events, Levi’s defenses fell. By putting his energy in holding his wife’s wrist tightly, just mere inches away from his face, he’d lost his composure. His mouth went dry as it fell slightly agape and his eyebrows were pressed upwards together in sheer astonishment.

“Y/N–”

“You bastard!” she cried, her tears leaking through her voice as well as onto her face. “Do you have any idea how scared and alone he felt, watching that cat die in the rain?! And to make things worse, you were punishing him for your selfish ass obsession with keeping the house clean!”

Levi’s eyes darted past his distraught wife and landed on Eren’s bedroom door, paranoid that his mother’s shrieks might wake him. “It wasn’t like that.”

Y/N shook her wrist in his hold defiantly. “Then explain it to me! Explain to me what the hell you wanted to do! What, were you scared of telling him he couldn’t keep it?”

“No, I wasn’t!” he growled back. “The first thing I told him to do was let the damn thing go. It was a dying cat, Y/N! That thing could have given him or any one of us all kinds of diseases with its filthy fur in seconds! What if it had bit him or scratched him?”

Y/N met her husband’s eyes squarely and stared into them for an unwavering minute. His volume had fallen off marginally by the end of his question. Her eyes narrowed as his softened. She caught him. Letting out a mirthless laugh, she finally ripped her wrist from his grip. “You didn’t even check if it did, so why are you bringing that up as if you actually care?” she whispered.

Shit. “He would have told me it did,” he answered then swallowed, not quite convinced of his answer himself.

“Don’t you get it? He doesn’t want to tell you anything, Levi. And he wouldn’t ever if he had the choice.” He braced himself as he noticed her hands balled at either side of her waist. “You’re so goddamn bent on policing him that you forget to parent him, and you’re nothing but an authoritarian that feeds him. Our son has the biggest heart, and by the way you treat him, he would never know that he got any of it from you because you act just like your father figure, not his.”

Levi prided himself on his steel-like aplomb. But if anyone could melt steel, it was Y/N and any selection of words that came from her heart. Often times, they were sweet—almost cloying as he felt he never deserved her praise. This time, they were filled with venom and provided a sensation no different than someone plunging a blade between his lungs. In fact, each of his breaths in following were shaky at best.

Y/N knew that Levi hated being likened to the weasel of a man that raised him almost as much as he hated the man himself. Still, she pressed on, resolved to defend Eren and put an end to the struggles he had with his dad. “You’re silent,” she pointed out. “Because you know it’s true. I’ve tried so many times to get you to understand, to be more gentle with Eren, and you just aren’t. Today would have been the perfect opportunity for you to bond with him. But you didn’t. You couldn’t even treat him like he was worth something. You didn’t reason with him. You didn’t listen, you didn’t explain the why’s or even make sure he wasn’t being hurt by what was happening. You just cursed at a child– My child for having empathy. And you let him sit out in the rain, grieving and crying alone.”

Nausea washed over Levi as the color drained from his face. He felt as though someone had tied an anchor to his lungs and allowed them to dangle precariously in his chest. Tears sprung to his eyes when he realized that the way Y/N described the evening’s events were simply how it happened for Eren. While Levi had been driven by his compulsion toward cleanliness, Eren was acting on his innocence. The child wasn’t hardened by and consequently numb to death like his father was. Eren only saw an injured animal, retrieved it then looked to his dad for help. And Levi had sent him away, practically abandoning him. Even if it was just for the moment that he’d lost his temper, the impact on Eren was irrevocable.

He started to fix his lips to apologize, but he knew the words would be insultingly inadequate given the circumstance. “What do you want me to do, Y/N?” he asked thickly.

By the time his words were out, it seemed an eternity had passed and Y/N already had most of her back to him. What he could see of her face was a perfect and painfully personal illustration of disillusionment. “I want you to stay here, with Eren.”

“What?” Levi felt his own voice sounded like a distant echo in the room.

“I can’t stand to look at you, to be perfectly honest. And you hurt Eren more than you’ll ever know. You need to fix this—all of it while he’s young or you’ll never have the relationship with him that I always wanted for the both of you.”

Y/N turned to walk away again, but in this instance, it felt more final. It was why Levi threw his hand out toward her as if it had any power to halt her from such a distance. “Now you stop right there,” he ground out, masking his misery with a roughness. “You can’t just leave after the shit you’ve said. So where the hell do you think you’re going?”

She paused, providing truth in her earlier statement by keeping her eyes trained on one of the pristinely cleaned tiles. “I’m going to say goodbye to Eren then going to my mom’s house. And if he’s not attached to you by the time I get back, then you can set up a new living arrangement with her.”

[kikyan]

Izaya Ending

His ending is here along with the smut! MDI after the cut! ALSO I RLLY HAD TO HAVE A FRIEND HELP ME WITH THE SMUT CUZ I WAS SO EMBARRASED TO WRITE IT ALL OMFG-

TW: Dub-con! Degration! Name calling! Oral Sex (both giving and receiving)! Collar! Choking! Vaginal Sex/Penetration! Think that’s it if not lmk!

ALSO I RLLY USED THE MOST WATTPAD BASIC ASS LANGUAGE FOR THIS SMUT THIS IS HOW YOU KNOW THIS SHIT WAS WRITTEN YEARS AGO

PART ONE

“Oh? It seems he even has the Dollars searching for you!” 

“ Izaya, please I apologize for anything that I did that caused you to do this, but I need to get back to Shizuo!” 

“ And do what? Apologize for my actions and say everything is fine? You truly are different than other humans (Y/N)! Besides, does Shizu-chan know?” 

“ K-know what?” 

“You can drop the act. I know who you are (Y/N) or should I sa-?!” 

“ Izaya, I won’t ask you again. Please, I apologize for what I said or did but I must return to my fiance.” 

“ I can’t do that (Y/N). You thought you had me fool, no you thought you had the whole world fooled, but unlike Shizu-chan, I know the real you. You are far too unique, too precious to be in the hands of that brute, that damned monster!” 

“ IZAYAAAAAA! GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE AND GIVE ME MY DAMN FIANCE!” 

“ Speak of the Devil, he really did arrive, didn’t he? (Y/N) it’s better if you stay, wait no- I want you to see God punish his worthless creation, than have his Goddess forgive him and the cycle continues!” 

Grabbing her arm, (Y/N) was dragged to the door where Shizuo lay in waiting/ Shizuo’s eyes lit up with hope as (Y/N) arrived, quickly scanning her to ensure that she was not harmed by Izaya. 

“ This is low, even for you Izaya. What the hell do you want anyway?” 

“ I want (Y/N) of course! How rude of you to keep her from society, from me! She is too perfect, in fact, she is perfection! I can’t stand you of all people, a damn monster near her!” 

“ If I am a monster, what the hell does that make you?” 

“ That hurt Shizu-chan, but I’m sure my goddess, (Y/N) would forgive you nonetheless!” 

Grabbing a stop sign Shizuo prepared to swing at Izaya before seeing (Y/N) duck down. 

‘This is too dangerous for (Y/N)! I have to lead him away. . .’ 

“ You see (Y/N)! This monster swung at you! I told you, he would only hurt you! Stay with me, my Goddess!” 

Taking his knife out, he swung it at Shizuo cutting him horizontally across his chest. As Shizuo remained unfazed he swung the sign hitting Izaya as well sending him flying back inside the apartment complex. As Izaya got up and grabbed the knife and (Y/N), before placing the knife under (Y/N)’s throat causing her to panic slightly. 

“ (Y/N)! Izaya you damned bastard! Let her go, that’s low. . .” 

“ It’s fine! Besides, my Goddess is so forgiving, I'm sure she will let this slide! In fact, I feel as if instead of the way I initially thought, it was you Shizuo who used (Y/N)!” 

Catching him off guard Shizuo looked down from (Y/N) with a hurtful expression as he pondered if he did truly use her as Izaya said. 

“ Kid. . . ding. . .!” 

With that Izaya took this time to spin (Y/N) from his hold and bolted to Shizuo, knife ready and a gun to end this beast’s life. As Shizuo looked up he failed to notice the blade approaching fast, approaching close to his eye until it did, leading to Izaya stabbing Shizuo in the eye causing him to crouch down in pain and hold his eye that was bleeding profusely. Izaya held the gun on his forehead before looking down with insanity filled eyes and a smile to top off the look. 

“ Shizuo, let’s ask (Y/N) if she forgives you for using her?” 

Turning to the side he was met with (Y/N) sobbing as she looked at him straight in the eyes before blurting out, “ Izaya, please! Leave Shizuo alone! He did nothing wrong! I’ll do whatever you want me to do just please leave him b-!?” 

“ Oh but (Y/N), you already are. He did nothing wrong? That sounds like forgiveness! Now Shizuo, any last words?” 

Turning slightly noticing he lost the battle and that Izaya won, he mumbled a small “ I love you (Y/N), forgive me” before having his life taken away as well as his fiance. 

“ SHIZUO!” 

(Y/N) ran to catch his body as she sobbed louder before clutching his arm, the one that held his engagement ring. Looking at his corpse (Y/N) continued saying “I FORGIVE YOU I’M SORRY PLEASE, PLEASE COME BACK!” 

“ Heh. . . hehe, ha, haha, HAHAHAAHAHAHA! THIS IS SPLENDID! THIS IS GREAT! THAT DAMNED MONSTER IS GONE! MY GODDESS IS MINE AND MINE ONLY NOW! HEY (Y/N), YOU FORGIVE ME, RIGHT? I MEAN, ON THE BRIGHT SIDE NOW THERE ISN’T A SHIZUO TO EDGE ON, RIGHT?” 

“ . . . I-I-I-I-I. . . I f-forgive y-you. . . I forgive you Izaya. . .” 

“ SEE I KNEW IT! ISN’T MY GODDESS WONDERFUL? NO MATTER THE CRIME SHE WILL ALWAYS FORGIVE! OH (Y/N) YOU TRULY ARE SPECIAL AND ONE OF A KIND!” 

Crouching down to hug (Y/N) from behind, Izaya smiled before speaking. 

“ Indeed (Y/N), you truly are special! Who would have guessed in a million years that I would meet the one who changed me! The one who became my goddess, the one who made me see humanity in a new light!” 

“ I-I-Izaya. . . why me. . .? 

“ Why you ask? Simple, it’s because . . . yOu’Re My FaVoRiTe HuMaN~” 

Standing on the rooftop Izaya was speaking with a female in pigtails as he began to tell her that she wasn’t really planning on killing herself and that she had one or two secrets that she didn’t tell anyone, so if her parents had one. . . what was the big deal? 

“ All humans lie, hide things, no one really makes it through this life being completely honest. Everyone's the same, no exceptions! Well, that is what I thought until I met (Y/N) (l/n) but I’ll let her do the rest from here on out. What you choose to do is on you in the end so choose carefully~!” 

Walking out to the edge with the girl (Y/N) looks and stares at the blood splatter as she turns to her and says, “ we humans will commit the worst of crimes, murder, robbery, rape, you name it. Though, the biggest crime any human can commit and go about not knowing is lying to yourself and making a mistake thinking it will solve the issue. Do not fear, I am not judging you I just want you to know, no matter what you choose to do tonight, I forgive you and I assure you, a second chance is waiting for you all! So please, on the bright side, you now know what is happening and now you know what you can do to change it!” 

The girl began to sob as she clutched onto (Y/N) sobbing and pouring her heart out with her smiling as she looked at the girl. After some time she finally left and (Y/N) looked up to the moon before hearing Izaya speak once again before hugging her and smiling. 

“ Who would have known, so tell me is this you speaking (Y/N)? Or is it Saika?” 

“ You can rest assure it’s me Izaya, but please don’t mention Saika.” 

“ I never imagined someone as happy and cheerful as you to wield Saika, more importantly, go through something as traumatic as you have. Oh well, that’s life I guess! I’ll be waiting by the door whenever you wish to leave my Goddess. . .” 

“ Alright. . .” 

As (Y/N) stared at the moon and then the red blood splatter she began to recall that memory, that small memory that started it all. 

~ 

In a small room all alone lived a young girl in her ‘timeout punishment’ as they called it. It was actually isolation, for three days the young girl hasn’t eaten and was barely drinking enough water to stay alive, but who was she to complain? Looking out she saw several children walking around and playing and it began to sadden the young girl as she could not join them for a small game of tag. Her mother was most likely with some other man and so was her father. As they argued and took out their stress out on other people, such as their daughter (Y/N), they failed to realize the young girl apologize for everything. 

Blood stained the nice mats and floors as two bodies lay on top of each other with wounds in their stomachs causing their entrails to leap out. 

“ I’m sorry mother and father! I apologize, if I wasn’t so weak then this never would have happened. On the bright side, I have freedom now! I also heard that I can play with the neighborhood kids too! Ah, don’t look at me like that mom! I know that I caused you so much pain, but you did too! I know for a fact that I should have done so much more but it’s fine mother! Father was upset when I defied the orders but then again father always got mad!  I ended up reading a book on how to make friends and it said that I should try to make them happy and if I make them sad to apologize! I love people mom and dad! I’m scared they won’t like me or worse hate me! Which is why I need to make them happy, which is why I need to be happy!  I don’t know when they are sad so I will just apologize if I do something you would disapprove of mom, dad!” 

~ 

Looking down from the moon (Y/N) smiled before turning to face Izaya and walking side by side. He too was hurt and didn’t know how else to cope so it was fine! Besides, you’ve made so many friends so any sacrifice that was paid was rightfully paid! After all, you were his goddess and he treated you like one! You’ve made so many friends so it’s been working right! Well whatever, just remember that (Y/N) is afraid of people hating her and never wanting her, so treat a friend right before you start to see not only you fall but they themselves. 

“ What are you thinking about (Y/N)?” 

“ Nothing much Izaya, c’mon let’s go home if that’s all. I still have dinner to make!” 

“Indeed, so what are we making?” 

“ well, what’s your favorite meal?” 

“Well, what was Shizu-chan’s favorite meal?” 

“ Well. . . if you want we can make that. . .” 

“ Then it’s settled! Hey (Y/N). . . you don’t hold it against me for killing Shizu-chan do you?” 

(Y/N) turned to look at Izaya who held the same crazed expression as he did when he pulled the trigger. Shaking her head (Y/N) looked up to smile at Izaya before mouthing, ‘I forgive you Iza-chan!” 

Smiling at the nickname he approached the girl standing before him as he grabbed her by the waist before kissing her softly. Soon after the kiss turned heated as his tongue found its way next to the girls as their tongues entwined together. Feeling the need to breathe, they separated as their only connection was the string of saliva that hung from both of their lips.  

" You are just so forgiving and unpredictable. . . It's exciting to see what our dear (Y/N)-chan will do when faced with a predicament but I think it's more exciting to see how much you of all people can hold on, can withstand before you break! Don't worry my Goddess, because you have me to help you!" 

"Thank you Iza-chan! I appreciate that you will make me happy as much as I make you happy!" 

Grabbing the (h/c) haired female, Izaya began to walk downstairs with his goddess in hand as his mind raced and began to wonder, how far would your relationship with Shizuo last, that is if he was still alive? Well, whatever the case was, Izaya wasn't going to lose to Shizuo so with a sadistic, yet smug grin, he turned to the female he held in his hand and said, 

"(Y/N) - Chan. . . How does a baby sound to you?" 

Pushing Y/N onto the bed, Izaya began to remove his jacket. Pressing kisses onto her neck, mumbling to himself about how this child would be absolutely perfect.

"I-Iza. . .?" 

"Shh. . . (Y/N) - Chan~ don't worry~ The pain you will experience will only make you stronger, our baby will be the summit of all of humanity. Our child will be born to be the perfect mix of our best qualities.”

"Iza. . . I-I. . . If you want a baby then I'll give you one, I'll give birth to our baby. . ." 

" Perfect~ Just to make sure that monster hasn't tainted you, he didn't touch you did he?" 

"No. . . We decided to wait till marriage. . . But it's fine Iza! I mean the one I love is well. . . you isn't it?" 

Not liking the response the young girl gave him Izaya smirked before turning to a straight face filled with anger and lust. 

"That's perfect!~ That means I'll be your first right (Y/N)-chan?"

“O-Of course! You’ll be my very first Iza!”

"That's perfect! (Y/N), you should do more than love me, you should worship you me like your God, your savior, and your salvation. So until then, until I know I have your life, love, admiration, and belief, you are just a lowly human that doesn't deserve my attention."

"Iza! I'm sorry for what I said, but I hope you still know I love y-!?" 

"Apologizing isn't enough (Y/N) - Chan!~ You need to show me you mean it! Show me your love, your faith, show me who you belong to, lowly human. . . " 

" W-w-what should I do?" 

"Well. . . That's up to you to decide! I'm sure Shizuo asked you to do something naughty before right~" 

"W-w-well t-t-that's-!?"

" So you aren't denying it! Well, I guess I'll have you so the same but show more devotion to me! Show me your love!" 

Understanding what he meant (Y/N) turned to the side before nodding and proceeded to get off the bed getting on the floor before nearing Izaya again. 

Izaya began to smirk seeing how submissive (Y/N) was acting and decided to edge her on more.

"Let's make a bet (Y/N) chan~" 

"A bet?" 

(Y/N) tilted her head slightly adding to her "cute" factor causing Izaya to smirk seeing how he was about to taint his Goddess before that monster did. 

"Yes! Let's see. . . Oh! I know! If you can show me your faith by simply being a little naughty then I'll reward you! If not, you'll get punished!" 

"P-p-punished?!" 

(Y/N) scared expression causing Izaya to harden upon her expression. 

"After all, a lowly human like you has to be punished already for doubting in your God! Now (Y/N) - Chan, let's start!" 

(Y/N) began to near Izaya's jeans and nervously began to unbuckle them before turning away with red dusting her facial features. 

"Aww is a sinner embarrassed to face her punishment? Her God?" 

Nodding slowly, (Y/N) began to turn around to face Izaya who was smirking as he saw the young girl timidly stare at his erect member. 

(Y/N) began to fumble with his boxers as she blushed before thinking about the previous time she did something like this. It was late afternoon, Shizuo and (Y/N) had a mini drinking competition which lead to some intense moments. As soon as her mind came back to her she realized that Izaya's member was exposed and she was staring at it. 

A small chuckle brought her out of her daze before she remembered that she needed to do this, to avoid punishment, she didn't mind doing what she was going to do, but if she didn't do well, she was going to be punished and she feared that a lot more. 

(Y/N) began to near his member and placed a small kiss upon the tip causing Izaya to shift a little as he stared at the female below him as she nervously wrapped her lips about his member, begin to slowly suck on it. 

Izaya tilted his head back as he tried to silence his moans. His Goddess was tempting him, in fact, he had to restrain himself from taking her then and there. 

"A-a-ah. . . (Y/N)-c-chan. . . ~"  

Letting small moans escape his mouth he looked down to see the young female, she was red from embarrassment and small tears slipping from her eyes as she continued to tease the young male. 

As the female began to suck a little harder, Izaya bit his lip but it was futile as he huffed a little before letting out soft moans. 

"(Y/N) - chan!~ I-I-I a-a-ahh~" 

Letting his lust get the best of him he grabbed (Y/N)'s hair and pushed her mouth further in causing her to choke a little and to deep throat him. Getting used to his length was difficult for the young girl as she was trying to match the speed of his forcefulness and her own. 

Izaya was shaking a little as he began to chuckle as he stared deep into the girl’s eyes before whispering and grunting a little in response. 

"S-so (Y/N)-chan. . No more like a lowly human. . . Do you believe that was enough? Are you going to finish and follow through with your punishment?" 

(Y/N) continued to suck on his member before hearing more smaller grunts indicating he was close and he was. Izaya was blushing as he continued biting his lip, although this degrading was a big turn on for him and hopefully his "lowly human" he couldn't conceal his excitement as he let one more moan out before releasing inside the girl’s mouth. 

"Swallow." 

(Y/N), already a step ahead, began to swallow the male’s cum making sure to get any leftovers around her mouth. 

"Good job, but I still didn't feel your devotion, your faith in your actions. Nonetheless, I did feel pleasure, so I'll reward you my lowly human~" 

Izaya began to reach for a collar of some sort before showing it off to (Y/N). As she soon understood the message she allowed him to place it on her, she made sure her hair wasn't a bother as she allowed Izaya to gently place it around her neck. Soon after it was placed Izaya noticed how the collar had a circular ring piece in the center and as he smirked he allowed his fingers to wrap around the ring before yanking it causing (Y/N) to jerk forward and meeting his hungry gaze. 

"You were so good, but not good enough. . . Out of my utter kindness as your God. . . I'll pleasure you as well lowly human." 

"I-Iza. . . I-I-I l-love y-yo-?!" 

"THROUGH ACTION! NOT WORDS, ACTION!" 

Izaya grabbed the collar and dragged you to the bed, not before turning and witnessing your red face, you were being slightly choked due to the tightness of the collar, small tears from the previous event and the biggest turn on, you were drooling a bit and it was so cute, like a little ahegao face. 

" You look so fucking hot, are you tempting me? Do you wish to seduce me and make me forget your crimes? Well, that won't work human, but that doesn't mean I can't play with you~" 

"I-Izaya w-what are you doin- a-a-ahh~" 

Small moans escaped from the girl’s mouth as Izaya began to kiss her, his tongue entering her mouth and slowly melting together with hers causing ultimate bliss. Halfway during the kiss, Izaya's hands wandered downwards to the girl’s jeans before he unbuckled them and proceeded to pull them down causing the girl to gasp. 

"Izaya! W-wait!?" 

" I believe you mean God~" 

(Y/N)'s jeans were removed as Izaya's fingers began to near her clothed womanhood. As he massaged your clit through your (f/c) underwear he smirked as he saw his goddess bright red and soft moans and mewling sounds as he made her feel pleasure. Soon after his fingers made it inside and he massaged her womanhood with much ease and it drove poor (Y/N) crazy. 

"I-Izaya. . ." 

" I think you mean God my lowly human!~" 

"G-God. . . I-I f-feel strange. . ." 

" Not yet! Don't tell me that's all! Well, I guess I better start!" 

Izaya neared (Y/N) womanhood as his tongue went to meet her clit and massaged it ever so gently. Making sure she could experience everything he made sure to hold onto her thighs before sucking and nibbling lightly against the bundle of nerves. Causing her back to arch, (Y/N) moaned in pleasure before Izaya began to change not only where he was attacking but the speed. He slid his tongue up and down one last time before he used his tongue to plunge into (Y/N) womanhood. His tongue went in and out of you as you moaned loudly, it was driving you over the edge. Soon after he stopped before getting up and returning back to his position, straddling you but he replaced his tongue with his finger gaining more access. To start off "soft" he allowed two fingers to access the girl plunging them in and out at a small pace before adding another and going faster causing the girl to moan and turn to face her God. 

" I-I-I f-feel f-funny. . ." 

" It's only a matter of time, my dear human." 

(Y/N) began to feel a knot in her abdomen, it was getting more intense and tight with each time his fingers went inside of her. As she was reaching the point of no return he began to speed up as (Y/N) let out one more moan before her body trembled as her eyes slightly rolled back as her juices sprayed everywhere especially on Izaya's fingers. Izaya smirked before seductively removing his finger from inside of (Y/N) and licked them before smiling softly. He leaned down to whisper, 

"That was amazing! You taste so sweet I can't get enough of it!~ but. . . I think it's time we moved onto the main event don't you think, my lowly human, my little slut. . ." 

It was only at this point that (Y/N) noticed the mirror facing the bed. It was a large, floor mirror that gave the observer a good view of the bed. It hadn’t been there before meaning one thing: Izaya had bought it just for this event.

“Ah, I see you’ve noticed it, finally! The perfect instrument for this night of trial! It’s there to test you, you see. . .”

Izaya’s hands snaked around (Y/N) to the back of her shirt. From there, he pulled one of the straps holding her shirt up, letting the tie unravel. 

“You didn’t really think that our fun, little night would end here, did you? I said we were gonna have a main event; an event with a special little treat for you, my lowly slut. Take it all off, we shouldn’t waste any time!”

(Y/N) sat up in shock. Izaya was being too candid, too forward. The darkness of the room led to Izaya’s face having dark shadows. The look made him too lustful and brought a familiar knot to (Y/N)’s abdomen.

Leaning in, Izaya whispered, “Hurry up.”

With shaking hands, (Y/N) brought her hands to her top and took it off in one swoop. The air suddenly surrounded her and she felt ever colder. The easy part was over, but now came the bra. She had been dying to take it off ever since they arrived home, but she couldn’t have expected that it would be in this situation. 

She could feel her face flushing red as she undid the hooks behind her back. She couldn’t bear to face Izaya, but she could still feel his lustful gaze directed towards her. She could feel him surveying every part of her body in arousal.

When she finally slipped the garment off, her body may have been cold but she could still feel the heat pouring between her legs. The air enveloped her body and made her nipples harden up. They perked up even more when Izaya brought his face closer to her.

“No matter what, I want you to look at me. It’s the very least a whore like you can do during this. If you can prove yourself through this, then you’ll get through this next trial~”

Without breaking his gaze, Izaya began to descend upon her chest. Taking one bud into his mouth, he began to swirl his tongue around it. His other hand pinched the remaining nipple and worked together to create a rhythm. Popping it out of his mouth, he bit into the skin around (Y/N)’s chest before moving on to the opposite bud. The sensation made her mind cloud and her mouth threatened to let moans escape. Every part of her body was on fire.

“Mmm. . . Is this pleasurable for you? Are you enjoying it? Don’t forget, my little bitch, that you have to prove your love for me. How devoted are you really?”

“Izaya, I-”

“How many times do I have to say this, (Y/N), only through your actions. Hm. . . Maybe a little punishment will help set you straight?”

Izaya kneeled up from the bed, pulling (Y/N)’s collar with it. The collar constricted around her neck, bringing a wave of euphoria as she was choked for those few seconds as he filled the two of them, leading to Y/N being on top of Izaya. 

“Don’t think this is how we end it. Just for now, you’re nothing more than a slave with a hole. If you ever want to be anything more, prove it.”

Staring at him for a few seconds, (Y/N) was in disbelief of what she was hearing. Did Izaya really believe that, that she was just a warm hole for him? And she already sucked him off, what more did she have to prove?”

“Well go on, prove your devotion to your god, to your complete master.”

(Y/N) knew what she had to do. Her whole body was shaking as she lifted herself on top of Izaya. She could feel her cunt getting wetter by the second, almost soaking Izaya’s midsection. She couldn’t believe that she was doing this with Izaya, much less how obedient she was. It was her first time, she should be hesitant! Maybe she had been secretly wanting this for so long?

Once she was in position, she began to lower herself onto Izaya’s member before being stopped by Izaya.

“Ah, ah, ah, did you think that this is your only punishment? No, no, no! Turn around, (Y/N), face the mirror. If you dare to look away for even a split second, your god will make sure you get disciplined.”

(Y/N) found it good to not upset Izaya. That would be an adventure for another time. Hesitantly, (Y/N) turned around to look at herself in the mirror. When she saw herself, she couldn’t believe the state of her appearance. (Y/N) looked like an arousing mess. Her hair was messy, but it looked artistic in a way. Her hairs were jumbled up and her lips were swollen. Her chest was flushed, riddled with hickeys and as hard as ever. 

“Remember what I said~”

Filled with determination, (Y/N) rose onto her Izaya and steadied herself. She lowered herself onto Izaya’s member, sliding it in with ease. It hurt a lot at the start, but the pain went away and was quickly replaced with arousal. (Y/N) felt like a crab, looking at herself in the mirror. It was uncomfortable to watch, but she didn’t dare disobey Izaya. 

She started moving up and down, watching as her breasts bounced along with her body. Izaya laid below her, helping her along by holding her waist. His fingers dug into her sides, making her squirm around. If only she could see him, what face would he be making?

The room was echoing the moans of both (Y/N) and Izaya. He stayed silent, except for his grunts and the occasional moan. That, along with the sight of such a lewd image right before her eyes, made the knot in her stomach grow and grow. 

The wet claps grew within the room, along with Izaya’s heightened pace. Now, his nails dug into her sides but she didn’t dare comment on it. (Y/N) was too distracted by the intensity of her senses. Her hair started to stick onto her face and she found herself moving into Izaya’s thrusts. Her arms were burning from the position, she kept trying to adjust herself into a better position. 

Izaya’s hands briefly left her waist to play with her breasts some more, before returning to add some much-needed support. The clapping now was wetter, almost sounding empty and echoey. (Y/N)’s abdomen could feel herself tightening around Izaya, but the position just wasn’t enough. Lifting herself up more, she raised her heels and put all her balance on the balls of her feet. The position was just enough and to add more friction, pounding Izaya in further. 

She lowered her hand to play with her clit before her own hand was replaced by Izaya. He said nothing as he played with her folds, rubbing and tugging at it with ways that sent (Y/N) into a frenzy. Her legs twitched and shook, threatening to compromise her position. 

Soon, the passion was more than (Y/N) could withstand. She came all over Izaya, feeling the liquid flow out of her. Her vision blurred and she could feel chills wash over her body. Between her legs, it felt as if everything was pulsating and her heart was ringing in her ears. Izaya followed shortly afterwards, removing himself from her insides and letting her fall onto her side.

His arm snaked around (Y/N) once more, pulling her closer.

“Guess what, my sweet (Y/N). You passed!  You managed to catch my attention through that amazing performance! What do you think?”

(Y/N) had no thought within her mind. The pulsating still hadn’t gone away and the fluid between her legs still felt sticky. If there was one thing she knew, it was that this baby would certainly end up interesting.

[cherienymphe]

What about a dark Joker? or is that redundant?

(Yes I would fuck Jared’s joker. No I do not take criticism 🥰)

You’re a villain in Gotham doing petty crimes here and there when you aren’t working, but you’re no Riddler or no Catwoman and certainly no Joker.

The clown king himself has never even heard of you until you get in his way one night while he’s trying to blow up a bank

You nearly ruin the whole thing, but he sees you as nothing more than a harmless fly so he orders his goons to stand down when they ready themselves to shoot at you

You’re long gone anyway so it would have done no good

You’re hardly a threat and you’re hardly competition. Until you almost ruin his plans to kidnap the mayor. Or the one to break a buddy out of Arkham. You do unintentionally prevent him from robbing a bank truck that was transporting money and now he’s mad

He’s rarely ever genuinely mad about anything. The worst anyone can be on the receiving end of is his indifference because then your life is nothing to him. Nothing valuable

So the next time you cross paths, he’s expecting it, and it isn’t long before he has you in a harsh grip, stolen money long forgotten as you begin to fight back

He thinks you’re trying to steal his thunder. Or even worse...a crazed fan. With a scoff, you tell him to get over himself and reveal that because you like to keep a low profile, you like to make your hits when he does because no one will pay any attention to you with him around

It makes sense. But he still doesn’t like it. Before he can kill you though, Batman swoops in just in time and you escape much to the Joker’s chagrin

Remember how I mentioned work? Yeah, when you aren’t stealing from the rich, you’re taking their money on the stripper pole

No one is more surprised than you to see the Joker waltz into the club, his posse mirroring his steps, and they make quite the intimidating team

You do your best to keep your head down and face turned away, but he recognizes you almost instantly. You blamed your hair

He requests a private room with you, and it’s not like you have a valid reason to refuse, so you swallow down your disdain and fear and do as your boss says

To your surprise, the Joker doesn’t plan to put a bullet in your head as soon as you’re alone. You know this because he’s too busy fisting his hand into your hair while his mouth covers yours

It happens so quickly and you’re not even sure how, but you find yourself moaning into the seat of the couch while he pins your chest down, thrusting into you while you’re arched against him

He’s righting himself as soon as he comes, and you’re still catching your breath when the door slams shut behind him

This quickly becomes a thing. You piss him off while he’s trying to pull off some heist, and he takes it out on you at your club. You’re not one to complain. He fucks you so good that your head spins and hey, he isn’t trying to kill you anymore

It’s just sex...to you

You’re unaware that you’re one of his toys. One of his little gadgets, and he doesn’t like for other people to touch his things

You’re doing your job, dancing on a customer when you suddenly find yourself covered in blood

Screams are filling the club as the place empties, but you’re frozen in shock. After all, you do petty crimes. You steal from the rich. You don’t kill people, but the Joker does, and he tells you he’ll happily do it again

With the club empty of everyone but him, yourself, and his goons, he roughly fucks you right there next to the stage, still covered in the blood of the man he’d just shot

You stay in your house for a long time after that. You take a break from your ‘eat the rich’ crusade. You avoid the Joker like the plague, but when things lull, the clown realizes that he hasn’t seen his little thief in quite some time

It takes almost nothing for him to find you, and he damn near gives you a heart attack when you return home from grocery shopping

You tell him that you’re done stealing for a while, but more importantly, you’re done with him for good

He laughs in your face. Cackles in that way that the police and citizens of Gotham fear

His hands are on you, tearing at your clothes, and he slyly remarks that all of your bruises have healed so he’ll have to make new ones

He fucks you against every surface of your apartment that he can think of, the sound of slapping skin and breaking furniture filling the space

When he’s done, you’re a limp mess, lazily sprawled along your torn sheets, panting as he gently trails his favorite knife down your trembling leg

He goes on some tangent about how adorable you think you are to think you could just hide away from him, tell him that what you have is over like you ever had a choice

He slips some gaudy diamond necklace around your bruised throat, more expensive than anything you’d ever stolen

His red lips brush along your cheek, green hair tickling your face as he comments on how pretty you look with his marks on you. He pulls away with promises of return, telling you to never pull anything like that again or he’d really have to hurt you

You believe him

[stillebesat]

Beneath the Moon -Part 1

December Drabbles Day 18  Sanders Sides: Logan, Roman Blurb: After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. Fic Type: Werewolf!AU Overall Fic Warnings: Bite Wound -Semi-Detailed, Dog Attack Mention, Injuries, War Talk, Fighting Talk, Death/Dying Talk Taglist in Reblog.  

“A werewolf.” 

Logan swallowed, fiddling with the loosely wrapped bandage on his hand as he kept his eyes firmly on Roman’s ankles. “I told you.” He said. “It isn’t logical.” 

“Hence why you came to me because I’m…what was that phrase you used the last time we…talked?” 

Logan ran his uninjured hand through his hair as he ducked his head. Why had he ever thought, after how they’d left things off, that Roman would actually help him? The unhealing bite wound had to be infected and addling his brains despite the numerous doctors visits and medications he’d been on this past month that would prove otherwise. 

“I believe I called you a ‘pompous prick of a prince stuck in a permanent delusional daydream.’” He whispered.

Roman snorted, uncrossing his legs as he leaned forward like a hawk about to snatch up his prey. “Trust the Brain to remember such a phrase after what? Fifteen years, Lo.” 

This was a mistake. Logan made a noncommittal sound as he hunched his shoulders. But he’d seen Roman and just---reacted, instinctively trusting that he would be able to help. 

After all the research he’d done, after all the signs he’d been experiencing. Logan needed someone to tell him he wasn’t crazy. And Roman...Roman had always been the one most likely to believe in the fantastical, the impossible, the...supernatural. “It’s what I’m good at.” He said, closing his eyes, again fidgeting with the bandage. “Remembering things.” 

He’d been teased constantly for his memory all throughout school. Been called Sherlock or Brain so often that half their graduating class didn’t know his actual name. 

Which made the fact that he couldn’t remember the fever filled two days after he’d received this...this bite...from that black dog--wolf?...more concerning.  

And after a month’s long session of ‘research’ into his wound, his further symptoms, and the circumstances around his bite and the dog--wolf that had bitten him…had led him to the only explanation that fit the entire experience. 

He’d been bitten by a werewolf. 

And if...IF this was true, his research pointed to the strong possibility that in under an hour, when the full moon rose, Logan would forcibly be changed from man to wolf. 

He didn’t want to believe it. 

But all the signs pointed to it. His sudden allergy to silver. Cats no longer liking him. An increase in appetite, especially for red meat--which Logan had historically disliked the taste of. His eyesight inexplicably improving to the point where he no longer needed to wear his glasses. His sense of smell and hearing randomly becoming overwhelming to the point he could barely function only to return to normal a split second later. And most importantly, the fact that the bite wound on his hand would not heal, which a very dusty book from the library had stated would not vanish until after the first full moon after the bite occurred---all pointed to him being a werewolf.

 But it wasn’t like Logan could just tell anyone about this theory of his. About what he thought could happen tonight.

After all, werewolves shouldn’t exist. 

To confide to anyone that he thought that they did and that he could become one tonight because he’d been bitten by a dog that looked like a wolf--

“And you thought...that I was still this...delusional Prince?” Roman asked, raising an eyebrow, his amber eyes glittering. “Willing to go along with any make-believe or fantasy adventure that comes my way at the drop of a hat?” 

Logan could feel the heat rising to his cheeks and hated himself for it. Of course it was crazy to expect that Roman of all people would believe him. 

In retrospect he probably was the worst choice Logan could have made when choosing to confide in someone. After all, they had been, for all intents and purposes, enemies for the past fifteen years. 

Yet Logan had momentarily forgotten that little fact. Had only remembered his childhood friend who had lived and breathed adventure growing up and would probably be the one most likely to believe him when he saw him pull into his driveway. 

A Child’s fantasy was a lot different from an Adult’s though.

And Roman...Roman had gone from wanting to be an Actor in high school to choosing to serve three tours overseas in the War and coming back a decorated hero. Someone who had seen the darker side of being a modern day knight in shining armor and yet had chosen to embrace that reality anyways. 

Even sitting, Roman commanded the room. He was all confidence, a lion lounging on his throne, claws only sheathed because there was no need to use them...yet. 

And if things went…badly. It was all too likely that he would use those warrior skills and shoot Logan the moment he...he changed. After all, Roman was now trained to see threats and take care of them.

Werewolves were historically, in their lore, always a threat. A danger to society.

Logan squeezed his eyes shut, conscious of how his heart rate had picked up. 

Mistake. Mistake! MISTAKE!

He had under an hour to get to a place where he could potentially shift in safety. Where he could test his theory of what he was and how he would change without endangering himself or any people who might be around and here he was talking to his high school enemy like he expected Roman to take him in like a lost injured puppy.

Logan pushed to his feet, bringing his bandaged hand to his chest protectively. “My apologies, Roman.” He said, unable to look up from the ground to properly face him. Roman probably was staring at him like he was a crazed loon after his sudden appearance on his doorstep and the ludicrous story he’d just told. “I shouldn’t have intruded in such a manner.” He turned for the door. “I’ll see myself out.”

He’d been so desperate to find someone, anyone to humor him. Someone he could trust. To help him test out his theory. To make sure that IF he changed. If something went wrong. That--that if he--he became a crazed bloodthirsty beast, there would be someone there to take care of it--keep him safe from hurting others. 

Or…if nothing happened. Which Logan desperately wanted to believe. That nothing would happen. That the moon would rise and he would just be standing there, perfectly fine and definitely embarrassed to have indulged in such a fancy...that someone would keep his momentary lapse in judgement quiet--

He highly doubted that Roman would keep this particular visit quiet. What sane person would? Logan probably looked like a crazed lunatic, showing up out of the blue in an old NASA t-shirt and worn jeans, spouting off theories on how he could be a new-made werewolf going to change for the first time tonight--Roman should have called the police as soon as he opened his mouth.

Logan would have, had their positions been switched. 

He tensed, breath hitching as Roman caught his wrist in an iron grip before he’d taken three steps, conscious of the fact that his childhood friend probably now knew twelve different ways to incapacitate him before he could blink.  

“You didn’t show me the bite wound.” Roman said, voice soft. “How can you tell me such a fantastical story and expect me to believe you if you don’t show me your key piece of proof?” 

Logan bit his bottom lip, daring to glance at his childhood friend, gauging how serious he was about seeing the injury. 

“Well?” Roman held out his hand, palm up towards Logan. “It’s not like I haven’t seen my fair share of battle wounds, Lo. I doubt your little bite will compare.”

That was true. Roman had seen battle. War. People dead and dying.

Logan steeled himself, he’d been careful about who touched his injured hand, not sure what the wound would do should it come in contact with another. “It’s not a little bite.” He said, reluctantly holding it out to him.  

He raised an eyebrow, a small smirk playing on his lips. “I’ll be the judge of that.” 

Logan looked away as Roman unraveled the bandage. His feet shifted in place as he glanced at the clock on the mantle, watching the second hand tick its way closer to the full moon’s rising. 

It was odd...Roman had never needed proof before. He’d been the sort to take people at their word and go harring off at the slightest hint of an adventure.

Obviously he had changed far more after high school than Logan had anticipated. It was--

Roman whistled as the last of the bandages fell to the ground. “This...happened a month ago?” He asked, turning Logan’s hand over studying the bite that formed a large crescent shape from his middle finger down to his wrist. 

“Twenty-eight days.” He corrected, wincing as Roman gently poked the wound. He’d been attacked on the last night of last month’s full moon cycle. 

“It looks--”

“Fresh?” Besides the visible lack of blood coming from the wound, it looked like it could have happened only minutes ago.

“Horrible.” Roman frowned. “I’ve seen men take sharpenal to their hands and this--just a bit more pressure and you could have lost your thumb and two fingers--”

Logan winced, his stomach twisting. “I know--I didn’t.” It had been a close thing though. He could have lost half his hand if the wolf had dug its teeth just half an inch deeper into his flesh and pulled, it was a miracle he could still use his fingers at all. Another inconsistency really, with normal dog bites. His hand still worked perfectly despite the large wound maring half of the surface that should have destroyed his tendons and muscles.

“And you’ve tried--”

“Everything short of surgery.” And with his hand able to function normally, no Doctor was willing to try that just yet, not after a single month. “Nothing heals it.” 

Roman hummed. “An unhealing wound.” He mumbled, looking up. He frowned, raising a hand to Logan’s chin, turning his head this way and that as he peered into his eyes. “Did you always have a golden tint to your irises?” He asked, trailing his fingers down to press gently against the side of Logan’s throat, where the pulse of his heart frantically pounded against Roman’s warm fingers.

Logan swallowed, feeling the color draining from his face. Golden tint? “No.” He whispered. “They’ve always been green. You know that.” 

Roman clicked his tongue, abruptly pulling away from him and crossing his arms. “Okay. Say, hypothetically, I don’t think you’re crazy.”

Logan blinked at the sudden change in tone. “You don’t?” He asked, not quite believing he was hearing this as pulling his hand back to his chest. It would be pointless to try and rebandage it with the moon so close to rising.

“Hypothetically.” Roman stressed, giving him a tight smile. “If you are going to turn into this--” He waved a hand around. “Werewolf creature. What exactly did you want my help for? Cus I highly doubt you’re thinking something stupid like true love’s kiss will work in this particular scenario of yours that you’ve set up.”

To Be Continued.  Part 2