#may cover him in blood yet if im bored enough

[spama]

you gotta believe his wings are SO fluffye,,,

no background version under cut

[blitzyn]

special attention

dottore x m!reader

request : none

Synopsis: Piquing Dottore's interest was something you never expected to achieve during your entire time as a Fatui Agent.

second part | third part

a/n -> omg im so sorry i was gone for so long i didnt know what to write and i was so tired pls forgive me

wc -> 2.2k

cw -> dubious consent, overstimulation, dacryphilia, vibrators, desk sex, slight mirror sex?, semi-public sex, accidental exhibitionism?, anal fingering, anal sex, reader is a fatui agent, reader is a masochist, dottore is a sadist, biting kink, slight blood, rough sex, no aftercare sorry

“You’ve intrigued me.”

Three words you never expected to hear, especially not from your Lord, Dottore. Compliments from him were not easily given unless the person in question had done something that truly garnered his attention - which was an incredibly rare feat. You filed through your memories in search of anything that could answer your question.

Nothing.

So why has he summoned you to his office?

“It is an honor, my Lord,” thoughts ran rampant through your head. “May I ask why I have gained your attention?”

You could hear him rise from his chair and walk over to you. His steps echoed on the cold, marble floor that grew louder upon his approach. He stopped in front of you, his black boots the only thing you could see from your kneeling position. “You’re the most impressive Agent that has worked under me.”

“You have captured and detained countless traitors and secured numerous bases throughout the nation. Not a single person has reclaimed those areas during your stay there,” he counted your achievements. “Yet, all of this has been done with not a crack in that calm facade of yours.”

“I have studied your methods of retaining information, and have been unable to decipher a hint of ulterior motives, or… emotions,” your eyes widened underneath your mask. He was watching you?

You fought the urge to flinch when his hand suddenly found itself on the top of your head to move your hood. “Not a sliver of pent up anger. Grief. Excitement. Nothing.”

“Naturally, this has brought a deal of curiosity to me,” he tightly held onto your hair to force your head back. His other hand removed your mask, revealing your face. “Maintaining a persona such as yours is no easy task, I imagine.”

He tugged on your hair to pull you up from your knee. He shifted himself behind you as soon as you got to your feet. “Of course, there must be some sort of weakness to it. You don’t strike me as heartless.”

His hand moved to your neck, palm resting over your Adam’s apple, feeling it bob when you swallowed. You stared straight ahead, ignoring the way his masked gaze bore into the side of your face. He slid it lower, down to your collarbones and chest. His hand rested on your left pec, smirking to himself upon feeling your racing heartbeat. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to see you lose your composure completely.

He squeezed the muscle and pinched your nipple before sliding it farther down your body. He paused at the waistband of your pants. He noticed that you were no longer focused on the wall, but on his hand instead.

Were you anticipating what he was going to do next? Were you dreading it? What did you feel? The pounding of your heart was an insufficient amount of information.

He covered your cock - already semi-hard. “Oh? Excited, are we?”

He received no reply as he began to gently stroke you through your clothes. He saw your jaw tense, much to his hidden amusement. He was getting there.

To the average eye, it would seem as if you were bored; annoyed even. But he knew better with the way your dick twitched and throbbed from his touch, with the way a small spot of your pre-cum soaked through the fabrics.

He suddenly pulled away, much to your dismay. You dared not to move without his permission.

“Strip,” he demanded. You were still caught off-guard with the command, despite having predicted it. He crossed his arms at your pause. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“Apologies, my Lord,” you said, swiftly undoing all of the buttons and ties in your clothes. Your skin prickled with goosebumps from the cold air of the room, feeling your face heat with embarrassment as he inspected your bare body. He was most drawn to the numerous amounts of scars that littered your flesh. Did you react? ‘Did you scream?’ he thought when he spotted a particularly harsh one.

He placed his hands on your shoulders to guide you closer to his desk, bending you over when you met the edge. His gloved fingers removed the thin piece of underwear that was left on your person. You hid your face in your crossed arms, too humiliated from being completely nude in front of Dottore.

Your eyes shifted when you could no longer feel his presence behind you, watching as he walked behind his desk. He gave you an amused smile as he dug through a drawer, retrieving a small vial and something else before returning back to you.

You curiously looked over your shoulder, trying to figure out what the other item was. He poured about half of the fluid in the vial on his hand, slick noises filling the cold room. He spread your ass apart before pushing the tip of his finger inside you.

You watched intently, slightly wincing in discomfort with the way his finger felt against your walls. You suddenly gasped when it brushed over a spot inside you, tensing up in response.

He suddenly stopped on your prostate, pressing up against it with enough force to render it uncomfortable. He pressed the palm of his other hand on the shaft of your cock, a cold object making it twitch in response.

"Normally, this device would be used to dissolve solids in liquids," he briefly explained. "But I suppose it could be used differently."

You couldn't restrain the moan that left your throat when he activated it, the harsh vibrations traveling all throughout your body. He began moving his finger again, prodding your prostate repeatedly. He added another one to begin a scissoring motion. His other hand gently jerked you off, sliding the device up and down your shaft. You clenched around his fingers when he circled the vibrator on your tip, biting down on your arm to quiet your noises.

Your eyes closed in concentration, focusing on breathing through your nose. The coil in your abdomen tightened with each passing second.

“Fuck,” you whispered to yourself. “I-I’m about to cum, my Lord.”

“Don’t,” Dottore replied. You couldn’t bring yourself to speak, opting to bury your head in your arms. You lightly squirmed on his desk, trying to find something to distract you of your incoming orgasm. You tensed when his hand around your weeping cock tightened considerably to stroke you faster. Your heart dropped when the heat became far too hot for you to bear.

With a strangled squeak, you came, jutting your hips forward. Dottore removed his hands as soon as the first rope of cum spurt from your cock.

“I have never thought I’d ever see the day you’d disregard my order,” he said, pressing himself flush against your backside. You could feel his erection straining through his pants as you rambled apologies.

“Silence,” he demanded. “Though, seeing as you’re not one to disobey me to begin with, I suppose I can let it slide just this once.”

“Thank you, my Lord,” you said through shaky breaths. His hands caressed your hips, smearing your cum and fluids across your skin. He grinded against your ass before flipping you over on the desk, wrapping your legs around his waist. Your eyes widened when you saw your reflection on the ceiling.

“It was used back when I didn’t have a large enough laboratory. I instructed my subordinates, and they watched through the mirror. It’d take too long to remove, so I decided to keep it,” he explained while swiftly undoing his pants. “We find new uses every day, don’t we? How exciting.”

He brought the vial back out and poured the other half of the fluids on his dick. He rubbed it around before pressing the tip against your hole. You intently watched through the mirror as he slid inside, holding onto the tops of your thighs tightly. The stretch he made burned, but - god - if you said it didn’t feel good, you’d be lying.

The pain went straight to your cock as Dottore groaned and mumbled about how tight you were. Every nerve in your body was on fire, shooting sparks of electricity up and down your body. He was about halfway inside when he suddenly slammed the rest into you, forcing a low moan from your throat. He didn’t give you any time to adjust, starting at an overwhelming pace.

He did not waste a second to begin fucking you how he desired, every slap of his hips hard enough to hurt. His desk shook as various papers fluttered onto the floor. You dug your nails into the wood, leaving crescent imprints. You stared at your jolting body, or, more specifically, at his cock moving in and out of you.

Your eyes were half-lidded with steady, low moans - much to his disapproval. Having memorized where the one special spot was from his fingers, he angled his hips a certain way so his dick brushed against it every time he thrust. You tightened your legs around him in response, beginning to release louder whimpers and groans.

One of his hands snaked over your body to your chest, rubbing his thumb over your perked nipple. You clenched tighter around him and let out a choked moan when he suddenly pinched hard.

“Oh, you like it when it hurts?” he noted, adjusting his hold on you to lean forward. You could feel his heavy breath on the junction of your shoulder and neck before he bit down with enough force to draw blood, letting it leak through the sides of his mouth. The burning pain only merged with the onslaught of pleasure, amplifying it to send you crashing into your orgasm. Spurts of cum reached even to your chest.

Your hands tightly held onto Dottore’s shoulders, trembling pitifully. He helped you ride your high until you finally loosened your grip on him. He pulled away, a trail of your crimson blood rolling down his chin. He licked his lips clean and wiped the stream with his thumb to place it in his mouth. He removed his cock from you; much to your confusion.

He was still hard. What was he…?

Oh.

He retrieved the vibrating object from before and activated it. He shoved it as deep inside you as he could go with his fingers before quickly replacing them with his dick. Your back arched, feeling the vibrations reverberate through your entire body. His deep groan was drowned out by your surprisingly whorish moan, feeling him fuck the vibrator deeper than you thought possible.

He resumed his relentless pace, watching you intently. His cock twitched and throbbed with every unrestrained moan you made, using it as motivation to go harder and faster. His hand grabbed your aching dick and stroked alongside his thrusts. You let out a string of curses (that you tried to silence - you hope he didn’t mind) as the added stimulation sent your nerves into overdrive.

It quickly became too much, and, before you knew it, tears flooded your eyes and fell down the sides of your face. It sent an unexpected shock up and down Dottore’s spine that triggered his orgasm, rope after rope of cum dumped into you. His hips spasmed as he engraved the sight to memory. Your walls clenched tightly around him, as if you were milking everything he had to offer.

The vibrator ceased to stop as he slowly pulled out, strings of his cum and lube attached to his pelvis and cock.

“M-My Lord, please,” you sobbed into your hand. “Pl-Please turn it - fuck - off!”

He pressed two fingers inside you with ease, prodding around inside you before humming. “It seems I pushed it too far inside you to reach. You’re going to have to push it out.”

Your stomach dropped. If this wasn’t the most humiliating bullshit you’ve ever heard in your life.

You tilted your head back with a moan, the agonizing build-up to your orgasm was so slow but was the fastest thing you’ve experienced at the same time. You squirmed on the desk as he fixed himself, knowing he was waiting.

You tensed and pushed, but you were unable to get it out of you. You wanted it out, but your body kept it deep inside. With a moan that sounded more like a sob, your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks.

“I can’t,” you cried. “‘M so-sorry.”

With a disappointed huff, he turned the vibrator off with a remote he had elsewhere and pulled the vibrator out. Although he wanted to see you push it out, he was satisfied with finally being able to see something other than your usual facade. He let you get your bearings as you stared at the mirror.

‘Holy fuck,’ you thought through your hazy mind. With a considerable amount of effort, you sat up.

He began picking up the papers that fell before turning to you. “I will grant you a day off tomorrow, but do expect to see me again soon.”

With a tired nod, you said, “Yes, my Lord.”

You put your clothes back on as fast as you could and promptly left his office. A few subordinates idly stood around, some with beet red faces, and others straight up refusing to look at you.

You rolled your eyes, trying to keep your cool when you felt his cum dribbling out of you.

You couldn’t wait to see him again.

cross-posted on ao3

[vampsickle]

first time. ☆ (dmc3 ) dante

☆ tags - fem!reader, soft.., ur both in love fr, 3dante!! baby boy, oral (f!receiving), petnames, mushy gushy, porn with just a LITTLE bit of plot lol.

☆ wc - 2.9k

☆ a/n - anon ur crazy for this and im crazy im not ok ive been wanting to write this for so long. you must’ve read my mind or my messages. tbh 3dante is a filthy virgin and a nervous wreck and i love him! i did my best <3 also not proofread im sowiee

☆ synopsis - after being with dante for about a year, you finally want to take your relationship with him a step further.

You and Dante have been together for about half a year now, meeting at a small restaurant, where he would always order strawberry sundaes. Honestly, you thought it was cute. He was cute. His white hair was so pretty, falling over his eyes, and he always wore that signature crimson coat. Finally you found the courage to talk to him, but what you didn’t realize was that he also had his eye on you. 

Still, Dante is just as infatuated with you as you are with him. Even when he’s away on a mission, just for a few days, you can’t help but yearn for him. The both of you are foolish teenagers in love, maybe making reckless decisions with each other, the biggest decision you made was moving out of your parent’s house to stay with Dante. At first you had felt homesick, not used to being away this long, but Dante always took good care of you. Or— He did the best he could. 

You took care of him as well, always there for him, listening when he explained his past and identity. Dante sharing his blood with the blood of a devil didn’t scare you and you stayed with him through and through. The both of you are practically obsessed with each other, Dante sometimes missing the phone because he’s too busy kissing you or cuddling you, but by cuddling, I mean laying on top of you. 

He hasn’t been home in a few days, leaving you incredibly bored, as you don’t go out much. Even when he���s around, you’re too busy being glued to him. You’re lost in your thoughts when, suddenly, the doors to Devil May Cry swing open, and Dante steps in. Then you notice the stench of blood and guts on him. 

“You must’ve had an exciting time, huh?” you smile at him, trying to ignore the smell of death. 

“Pff— It’s no fun without you, babe.” 

You swoon, blushing a bit at his words, he’s always so casual. Dante walks over to kiss you but you lean back, even if you so desperately want to kiss him, you can no longer ignore the strong smell. He’s aware of the smell too, yet he pouts, pleading silently. 

“Shower first. Kay?” 

“.. Fine.” he grumbles in response, his boots are so heavy, and so loud. He basically drags himself up the stairs— acting so dramatic. All you can do is laugh, waiting to hear the water run, before you make your way to his bedroom. 

Tonight, you wanted to reward him, and.. Maybe take this relationship to the next level. Because— well, heavy kissing and dry humping wasn’t enough anymore. Your face flushes at the thought and you grab his pillow, holding it to your chest. After a good 10 minutes, Dante turns off the water, drying himself off. He shakes his head around as a dog would— then aggressively drying it. 

He yawns and grabs some sweats that were already in the bathroom, along with his boxers. Dante remembers that you bought them for him, covered in small strawberries, and he smiles to himself. 

Returning to his bedroom with the towel slung over his shoulders, he pauses in surprise, his eyes scanning your body. All you were wearing was a long white t-shirt and some pajama shorts. Dante can’t help looking at the exposed skin, hormones raging. 

Diving onto the bed, you almost squeal, bouncing slightly. Dante scoots closer, wrapping his arms around your waist, and shoving his face into your stomach.

“Are you comfy?”

“Mm.” 

A smile creeps onto your face and you run your fingers through his soft but still damp hair. He inhales you a few seconds longer before sitting up on his knees. He’s so much taller than you, even when he’s on his knees next to you, his baby blue eyes meeting your gaze. But your eyes are silently asking him to kiss you. He does.

It’s funny— how soft his lips are. He’s perfect. His skin is softer than yours. Dante’s so pretty. And he’s so warm. You reach up to card your fingers through his hair once again and Dante’s tongue swipes across your lower lip, so you open your mouth a little wider for him. You’ve noticed how he’s always so careful with you, so gentle, like he could break you. Goosebumps erupt over your skin when his tongue feels yours, sucking softly, exploring your mouth. His hand reaches to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel his heartbeat against your chest. 

Then you have to pull away for air, eyes half lidded, and Dante’s looking right at you. His room is dimly lit, but his eyes are always so bright, so intense. You kiss him again, crawling onto his lap, arms wrapping themselves around his neck. His hands rest on your hips, head cocked to the side to deepen the kiss, and you slowly rock your hips on him. Dante blushes, grunting softly, eyes fluttering open slightly. He could kiss you forever, he doesn’t need air. But, you do. When you pull away from him, a string of saliva is connected to both of your lips, and you wipe it away.

“Dante.. I want— To, um..” you trail off, suddenly shying away from his gaze, but he follows you. 

“Me too— I mean- If you mean, uh-“ maybe he answered too fast, but he sits up straighter, nuzzling his nose into your cheek so you don’t see his embarrassed face.

Then the both of you laugh softly together, knowing exactly what the other wants.

“We can take it slow though, baby.. Don’t wanna make you do anything. But— I mean it’d be pretty great to do it with you.” Dante rambles, scratching the back of his head, tilting it like a puppydog. He’s so cute, you think.

“There’s no one else I’d wanna do it with, Dante. It’s only you.”

His heart is racing, it’s so bad that he honestly thinks he’s having a heart attack, but he shakes away the nervousness. He kisses you again to ease his nervousness, your lips are so familiar, and you taste so sweet. You’re better than any strawberry sundae.

You feel lightheaded and so warm. So you pull off your shirt, forgetting you had no bra underneath, and Dante can’t even talk. Maybe he should feel bad for staring at your breasts for so long, his hands gripping the sheets so hard they may just rip. Instead, you gently grab his wrist and you bring it to rest on your chest. Butterflies flutter in your stomach again, feeling embarrassed at how intently he’s staring.

“You.. You can touch me, Dante. ‘s okay,” your voice soothes him, so he nods slowly, gently massaging your breast. Your breathing picks up, your heartbeat is so loud that you’re suddenly insecure that Dante could hear it, and the blood rushes to your ears. 

He’s not doing anything with his other hand and he takes that one to cup your other boob. Both his thumbs brush over your hardened nubs, making circles, and you whimper quietly.

“Can you— ah, can you put.. Your mouth on it.. Please,” god, he can’t believe you’re finally letting him go this far. Actually, he can’t believe he’s going this far either. He’s never even had sex. There was never any time.

But he listens to your request, leaning in close to attach his mouth to your nipple, sucking gently. You moan quietly, sighing in relief, and he continues suckling. He does the same for the other one, shivering at how hot your skin feels, and Dante runs his hands down your sides.

“So pretty.. Can I— Can I take your shorts off?” honestly, you’re so surprised at how shy he sounds. He’s always saying corny one-liners, playfully flirting, and he never hesitates. But now you’ve realized it’s all a facade, keeping up that faux confidence just to intimidate others, so he can feel better. Inhale, then exhale. You can’t deny that you aren’t nervous as well. Instead you take off your shorts for him, now only in some plain underwear, and you kindly ask Dante if he could take off his sweats.

He scrambles up to push them down to his ankles and he kicks them off. Dante’s back on the bed again, cupping your cheek to kiss you, and you feel all the nervousness and hesitance melt away. It’s just you and him. You’re both so desperate for each other, so needy. Dante leans back, gently pulling you back into his chest. He’s massaging your tits once again, enjoying how they feel against his palms, and your neck strains as you attempt to kiss him once more. 

Dante smiles a bit, leaning down to kiss you, his hand trailing down your stomach to the fabric of your underwear. You grip his wrist, whining softly, but you want him to touch you there. 

“I’m gonna make you feel real good baby, I swear it..” 

“Wanna make you feel good too, Dante,” 

You both relish in each other’s embrace, lips locked, now your tongue in his mouth. He tastes like strawberries and smells like vanilla. How does he keep that up? Then you feel his hand slip under your panties, hovering over the heat you emit, gasping softly against your lips. Your hips jerk up slightly, desperate to be touched, for Dante to feel you. He’s swiping his index finger over your slit, feeling more of your wetness leaking onto his finger, and he begins to rub you so sensually. 

“‘s this.. This okay, baby?” he murmurs, still rubbing his hand against your pussy, keeping up the slow movement of his hand.

“Yes— You can go a little faster,” it’s hard for you to even say that. But he wants to hear you. Even if you’re not talking. No one’s touched you down there besides yourself, and god, his hand is so big. But his hand movement is faster now, fingers rubbing in circles, and your legs instinctively squeeze together. Dante feels prideful, that he’s already making you feel so good despite his lack of experience.

But you can feel even better than how you do now. So you gently hold his wrist, then guide him towards your clit, urging him to touch you there. He gets what you need now, keeping that same pace as he rubs your clit in circles, which makes you writhe under him.

“Dante— Oh- I’m going to,” your breaths are fast and short, bucking up against his touch, clinging to him. He moans softly at how wet you feel, and you cum all over his fingers, moaning against his bicep. You gasp softly after as it’s become too much, so you grab him again, whining— quietly telling him to stop.

“Sorry— I- Are you okay, baby? Was it..” 

“No, no, it’s fine..! Dante, that was so good.. I’ve never, ah.. Felt like that before.”

His eyes widen slightly, fireworks exploding in his head, and he can’t help but kissing you again. Giddy over the fact that he made you feel that way. He was the first. 

“Can I touch you now..? Please?” Dante doesn’t say no, rubbing his clothed erection against your thigh, so you shakily pull his cock out from the confines of his boxers. The ones you bought him. He’s big. Well, you figured that he was, not only because he was your boyfriend but because.. Well, he is part devil. So that must be a factor in this. 

His cock is warm against your palm, twitching, and leaking so much pre-come. You apologize to him in your head that you didn’t touch him sooner. But you start to wonder how many times he jerked off thinking about you. It makes you scream inwardly, hoping Dante knows that you’ve also gotten off thinking of him as well. 

“Oh… Baby, touch me more,” he whines, a bit louder than he intended, his head hanging over your shoulder. Now you’re wrapping your hand around him, he’s so thick, the tip is a pretty pink. You pump his cock a few times, setting a steady rhythm, and Dante’s thigh muscles tighten, his breath hot against your ear. 

You’re becoming more and more aroused at how he whines and moans into your hair, repeatedly saying your name, eyes shut so tightly. His jaw is clenched and he’s attempting to match your rhythm as his hips move with your hand.

“Damn—! I’m—“ but he can’t get anymore out, before cumming into your hand, some of it shooting out onto your stomach. You’re surprised that he came so fast, but then you blush, slowly bringing your hand to a stop. It’s amazing how he’s still half hard— he wants to be inside you, and then he won’t ask for anything else.

“Can we still.. Keep going? Please? I wanna be inside you so bad, baby. Waited so long..” he’s rutting against you, as though he were in heat, and you want it too. You’ve been waiting to feel him inside you, but you were always too nervous, backing out at the last second whenever you thought about it.

Dante gently lays you down, quickly opening his nightstand drawer, digging for a condom. 

“Wait—! Um— Prep me first..! It’s gonna hurt more if you just put it in..” 

He was so eager to just push himself inside of you that he hadn’t thought of it. Dante mumbles an apology to you, opening your legs and moving off the bed, onto his knees. You squeak in protest when his tongue is suddenly pressed flat against your pussy. God, you’ve only read about girls getting eaten out, and now here you are, with a beautiful boy between your legs. Dante’s licking you all over, slurping and sucking, he’s so messy. Despite his inexperience, he’s still making you feel good, his mouth suddenly wrapping around your entire pussy. You’re whining and moaning underneath him, grasping the sheets, just to hold something.

He’s moaning against you as well, one hand moving down to stroke himself as he eats you out, tongue inserting itself inside you. You nearly choke on your moan, throwing your head back at the feeling of the muscle inside of you, attempting to push him away with your foot. But you don’t want to push him away. 

Your arousal is smeared all over his chin, some of it on his cheeks, and his nose is pressed against your clit. It’s so much at once and you cry out when he inserts one finger inside you. 

“Dante—! Fuck!” he moans in response, gently pumping his finger in and out, before inserting another. 

“Wait— Stop-“ you desperately plead, so Dante pulls away, albeit rather hesitantly.

“You okay, baby? Did I do something wrong?” he’s worried, worried that he hurt you, and scared that you’d get up and leave.

But you simply shake your head, slowly sitting up, trying to control your shaking muscles.

“No— No, it’s not you.. But, I’m ready now, okay? If you kept that up I was going to cum again..”

Dante tilts his head, as though he were asking ‘what’s wrong with that?’, so you answer his question.

“I.. Wanna cum with you. Um, when you’re inside me…” 

If Dante had a dog tail, it’d be wagging. He thinks you’re so romantic. Then he uses his teeth to rip the condom open, pushing you back so you’re resting on his pillows again, and he has room to rest on his knees. The plush bed feels more comfortable on his knees than the floor, anyway. You watch him slowly roll the condom on, sucking in a breath through his teeth as he does so.

“Alright.. I’m gonna put it in now, pretty.”

You take a deep breath in, heart hammering against your chest, and fuck— it hurts when he slowly makes his way in. He’s stretching you out so much and the stretching fucking burns. You swear something broke inside you.

“Dante— Stop,” so he stops. He pauses, only halfway in, eyebrows pinched together in worry. After another deep breath, you nod to him, so he slowly keeps going until he’s fully sheathed inside you. You’re both breathing so heavy and Dante’s leaning over you, his hair brushing against your forehead. He gently kisses you, lip quivering slightly, his breath faltering. 

“Move,” you urge, and Dante begins to rock his hips against you. Your legs wrap around his wide waist, holding onto his wrists, and he uses his fists to keep himself upright. 

“God— You feel so good, baby. Knew you would..” he moans, attempting to keep a steady rhythm, but his hips stutter at times, and then he’ll speed up, then slow down. But he finally finds a good pace to keep, and the pain has fully subsided, instead of pained whines slipping past your kissed swollen lips, it’s only sweet moans. 

Dante carefully pushes himself up, just to watch himself move in and out of you, nearly salivating at the sight. Jesus, he’s already close, and so are you. 

“I— I can’t-“ he stutters out, practically falling over you, just to kiss you again. So deeply, but so sloppy, and the movement of his hips are messy. Dante’s moving fast, moaning into your mouth, as well as swallowing all of your moans.

“Please, baby, cum with— with me,” Dante whines, and you moan loud ‘yes’s’ in response, as well as his name. Over and over. Your overwhelmed with him. All you can feel is him. How you feel so safe, so.. loved. Neither of you tell each other when you’re going to cum, but you both basically cry out together, and he pulls you into a loving kiss again, your arms wrapped around his neck.

Slowly his hips still, panting against your cheek, and you’re gasping quietly— attempting to catch your breath.

“Dante, I—“

“I love you.”

Tears form, you hadn’t been expecting him to say anything like that, so when they start to spill— he kisses them away.

“I love you too. Please.. Stay with me, Dante.”

“I’d never leave you.” 

[isabellitah]

Title : Our Wife

Pairing : Sakusa Kiyoomi x Female!Reader x Miya Atsumu

Warning : blood ig, curse words, attempted rape, torture, and mentions of death

Credits : to the artists regarding the drawings of Sakusa Kiyoomi and Miya Atsumu found on the banner- i saved them from pinterest I think.

Note : do not copy or repost this anywhere else. I do not write Haikyuu!! fics anywhere else.

Y/n Miya-Sakusa was scared. No- scratch that- you were terrified.

You wouldn’t show it to your captors though- your husbands taught you to never show fear- but Jesus Christ- you were terrified not only for yourself but more so for your unborn child- a child you didn’t even know existed until half an hour before you got kidnapped from your own room. For the past hour that you’ve been tied to a chair in the middle of the room, they haven’t touched your body. The same couldn’t be said for your face. Half of your face was covered in slightly dried blood; blood that came a wound you got when they slammed your head against the edge of your beside drawer to knock you unconscious, and a spilt lip that was still bleeding slightly from when they punched you when you spat at the face of the person who demanded your husbands’ locations and the locations of all your warehouses. The thought alone made you scoff- you’re no rat. Unlike whoever the hell gave your home’s location away. Your husbands were going to be so pissed when they find you gone and your shared room thrashed about.

Sitting on the wooden chair was become a pain in the ass. Literally. You couldn’t even escape because of the metal cuffs attached to your wrists, forearms, and ankles and they took your daggers away. You’re stuck and all you can do it wait. Wait for either your husbands to burst through the door or wait for your promised torture session and possible death.

Minutes- hours- who knows how long later, two men in black barged into the room, startling you from your daydream carrying knives with guns in their holsters. Well... looks like your Omi and Tsumu are too late huh...

“Ready, Princess?” thing 1 with an eyepatch said with a smile, showing his yellow teeth, “Boss said we gots to kill ye before yer husbands get here. Ye know, so they barge in ‘ere only to see yer bleeding body. Even better if they get to see yer naked corpse, doncha think?”

“Boss said not to rape her tho-” thing 1 interrupted thing 2, “what boss doesn’t know won’t hurt ‘im. And besides- I wanna leave Miya a surprise for stabbing my eye.”

And just as thing 1 started moving towards you, a scream was heard from outside the door and echoed into the room, sending shivers down things 1 and 2’s spines. You, on the hand, smiled. They’re here... fucking finally.

“What was that?” Thing 2 looked around nervously. Huh- he must be new to the business. Poor guy he won’t make it far at this point. Thing 1 shrugged, “eh who cares? There’s no one we can’t kill.” he boasted. Dumb overconfident pig.

Another scream rang through followed by a shout of terror, “THEY’RE HERE!” that was cut off as a loud gunshot echoed through the walls followed by a series of bangs and clangs. The familiar sound brought you off guard- they brought everyone? You were sure that that clang was from Michinari’s favorite weapon- his metal bat. Where were you and who took you that they felt it necessary to have everyone here? You were brought out of your train of thoughts when you realized that all of a sudden everything and everyone was silent. All you can hear was your own heartbeat.

“Ah fuck it-” thing 1 looked at your form with a crazed look in his eyes that sent shivers down your spine.

“Dude what are you-”

“Well it’s obvious we won’t make it out alive-”

“Wait what?”

“-might as well have fun before we die, ey?”

With that said he closed the gap between you two. You felt your mind blank as tears started forming in your eyes. The moment he ripped Atsumu’s shirt from your person, the tears fell along with the loudest scream you could muster, “OMI! ATS-” you were cut off as thing 1 smacked your cheek with the butt of his gun, “shut up ye lil bitch. Yer not leavin til I get my f-”

Thing 2 was suddenly down- a hole on the side of his head. None of you even heard the door open so that meant Shinsuke was here- well him or Rintarou since they’re the stealthiest in your family.

Thing 1 suddenly stood up straight and placed his hands up with his palms up and blocking your view from whoever was with you two in the room, “hey uhhh I was forced to do this, mates- it- it wasn’t anything personal, yea?” Sat on a wooden chair in just your undergarments and the remnants of one of your husbands’ shirt, you let a small smile appear on your face. They’re here. You and your little bean are safe now.

Rintarou stepped out of the shadows and from his voice you could tell he looked bored, “so... where is she?”

Thing 1 shook his head, having lost his voice the moment his eyes met the bored yet malicious ones of one Suna Rintarou- one of the deadliest assassins of the Inarizaki family, and prayed that the fox wouldn’t notice your bleeding form behind him.

The moment you let out a sob, he pushed thing 1 away and squatted in front of you. And he was not happy with what he saw was done to you-

He saw your bloody and bruised face. He saw your shaking hands and the tears you let flow from your eyes. But what angered him the most was the fact that someone he viewed as his little sister lost the brightness is her eyes.

Any chance the idiot had with reasoning with him was gone.

“Congratulations, idiot. You’ve secured a spot in our personal dungeon.” Rintarou smiled as he heard a sharp thump before the telltale sound of a body hitting the ground, “you didn’t hit him too hard, did you, Shinsuke-san?”

“Not hard enough.”

“Ok- let’s get these off of you before your hubbies come in here,” with that said both men started unlocking the cuffs trapping you onto the chair. After freeing you, you were immediately hit with the feeling of fatigue and let your body fall onto the person closest to you. Shinsuke caught your semi-limp body and immediately became worried but calmed down as he felt your breaths. He arranged your position so that you were laying across his lap, facing the roof of the cell. Rintarou settled himself beside Shinsuke after texting Kiyoomi your location- receiving an immediate reply that they’ll be there as soon as Atsumu is out of his blood haze. Shinsuke brushed his hand through your hair but immediately stopped when you whimpered, “hit- t-table- home.”

The two men exchanged worried glances when you stared up at them with your eyelids slowly closing. Rintarou tapped your cheek, “Y/n-chan, stay awake- how do you feel right now?”

“Aish of all the questions Rin-”

“B-baby...”

“Kiyoomi-san and Tsumu will be he-”

“M-my baby...” their eyes widened as you shakily placed your hand onto your tummy before falling limp in Shinsuke’s arms. He refrained from panicking when he saw your chest still rising and falling in patterns- you probably fainted from exhaustion.

“Holy shi-”

“Y/N!”

The moment the two saw your limp body they assumed the worst- but as Atsumu was about to yell out his rage and sorrow, Osamu appeared from the shadows and hit the back of his head, “she’s breathing, you moron.”

“I knew that, shitface.”

“Who ya callin’ shitface, ya pig?”

“Who ya callin’ a pi-”

“Aran,” Kiyoomi calmly spoke as he turned to face the hitman- ignoring his husband and brother-in-law, “lead the way out- make sure that there will be no delays. We must take Y/n to Motoya immediately- we don’t know the extent of her wounds- however they look... less than favorable as of the moment.”

At the reminder of your current condition, the twins shutted up, “Osamu,”

“Yeah, Omi-san?”

“Bring that thing with us.” was muttered with great disdain while his finger was pointed towards the unconscious thing 1.

And so they left the building covered in blood with neutral faces.

They may not show it but they were livid.

They didn’t miss your tear and blood stained face nor the the fact that your shirt was ripped right down the middle.

They knew what was going to happen to you had they been a second late.

“Hitoshi and Heisuke are already tracking the rats- we’ll have them in the basement by tonight,” informed Kiyoomi’s trustworthy gunsmith, Tsukasa Iizuna.

“They better- only question now is who gets first dibs on the assholes.”

As they settled into the car, Shinsuke told them the news of your latest surprise. He knew that they’d go even more ballistic were they to find out during the check-up from Motoya. But since they were in a closed and moving car with you on their laps, they couldn’t really do much except stiffen and let their rage grow stronger- and he looks forward to seeing what they’ll do to the bastards tonight. Shinsuke, above all things, is a man of honor- and what he hates above all things, are traitors.

“PLEASE! I’M SORRY! PLEA- AHHH” Thing 1 screamed as Kiyoomi dug his dagger deeper into the man’s shoulder- forming a hollow hole of sort.

“Just a little more... I want to see if your bones are clean or if they need to cleansed as well-”

“Omi-omi~ I want my turn !” whined Atsumu as he crossed his arms and pouted at his husband.

Kiyoomi rolled his eyes, “you had your turn five minutes ago when you spilled acid onto his legs- it’s my turn now.” with that said, Kiyoomi ripped his dagger from the man’s flesh without a warning and grabbing a bowl from the prisoner’s ‘meal’, poured the bowl of scalding hot soup into the hollow flesh.

And as the man wailed, the two traitors squirmed in fear as they awaited their turns.

“We don’t usually go to this extent but what can we say...”

“No one messes with our wife.”

please reblog if you liked it hehe 🥺🥰

[omegawolverine]

Braid Me a Home

summary:

"Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.” 

or

A story about the Sleepy Bois being family, told through braids.

word count: 2.5k

warnings: child neglect, hurt/no comfort, canonical character death, implied/referenced mental health issues (like it’s obvious but there isn’t much detail to it), brief blood mentions (ik this fic sounds kinda angsty as hell but its not? imo its light angst)

a/n: first dream smp fic and im ALREADY projecting? christ. anyways. go easy on me pls this is far from my best work i just havent written a fic in like 5 months (more if you dont count the fucking chat fics) mm also i may have posted this like a week ago on ao3 just to test the waters and its already gotten way more comments and kudos than any fic of mine usually gets this early on so hopefully tumblr enjoys it too :]

—

When Wilbur Soot was born, he came out crying, as most babies do. Covered in vernix and blood, he weighed just barely above the seven-pound mark, gasping out sharp cries that only a parent could truly stand, or worse—love. Though he was the second baby born into the family that day, he was fussed over far more than he would ever be again.

Technoblade, on the other hand, had barely made a sound when he came out, a trail of blood smeared across his forehead, almost as if it was meant to be there. He made small noises that were more akin to confused mumbles, weakly grasping at his father’s hair when he was eventually passed on for the second child to be welcomed into the world.

Only when both boys were held in their father’s grasp did Wilbur quiet down, his soft head leaning into his father’s beard as he stared wide eyed at the boy across from him. Though they looked similar enough, Technoblade’s nose was squished further back into his face, appearing almost snout-like to Philza. Of course Wilbur noted this, wiggling until their father somehow managed to get them pressed right up against each other with minimal damage done. Though Techno never stopped squinting like an annoyed old man at Wilbur, he allowed the other to press a fist against his nose, his eyebrows unfurrowing just the slightest bit at the touch.

From that day on, Philza was the father of two twin boys—a loud boy who cried easily, but always calmed down for his older brother, and a rather monotone one, who’s face seemed to be permanently stuck in a scowl, unless said face was being smushed around by the younger. And things worked like that for a while. Not forever, but...a while.

—

Philza taught Wilbur to braid on a hot Monday afternoon.

It had been a rough day for the boy, though Phil hadn’t a clue why. Maybe he had just woken up on the wrong side of the bed? Or maybe he hadn’t slept enough between bedtime and the time Tommy had started crying again, the youngest boy’s crib being right beside his head and all. Though it might’ve seemed cruel from an outsider’s perspective, Wilbur had been the one to ask for it. Something about Tommy being his little brother and how he needed to teach the boy the ways of the world in the same way Techno had taught him—because apparently that was all Techno’s doing now, not Phil’s.

Regardless, Wilbur had been a bit too snippy for Phil’s liking that day, complaining about every little thing they did until finally, the day was over.

Well, as over as it could be with Techno leaving mid foam sword fight, an annoyed shout of ‘I quit!’ leaving his mouth before he snatched up Tommy’s carrier and brought him inside for god knows what reason.

It had only been around four P.M. by that time—too early for dinner, yet too late for Phil to really demand the boy stay outside and continue to entertain himself with a brother who was clearly not entertained himself.

Details aside, Phil isn’t really sure how they got to braiding. He just knows at some point they did and by the end of their outside time, just before the clock struck six, Wilbur had made two thick, messy braids in his hair. They stuck out awkwardly, looking all too similar to Pippi Longstocking’s iconic hairdo for his comfort, but he’d be damned if he took out the braids his son had so happily rushed inside to show his older brother before demanding to do his hair as well. After all, Wilbur didn’t have long enough hair for braids, but Technoblade sure as hell did. It was only at his shoulder blades back then, brunette curls wrapping around his narrow shoulders and thin arms like thick vines.

Wilbur had always enjoyed brushing it out with his fingers and putting cute, handmade clips or flowers in it at random, decorating the waves for his brother who was more than happy to let the boy do as he pleased. Though he would never admit it, Technoblade liked how it felt when Will played with his hair. He was always careful not to tug too hard, prioritizing the comfort of his other half more than the beauty of his work, as he so often referred to it.

So when Will had presented him with the mess that was his first two braids, he wasn’t hesitant at all to let the boy practice on him. Instead, he walked to the couch with a small smile, removing his glasses gently and getting comfortable before his brother plopped down into the space behind him. Long legs draped over long legs with no warning, thighs pressed together as if they were meant to be like that all along—and they might as well have been, for how often they did this.

Phil had watched them from the doorway in content silence, Tommy sitting behind him in a wooden high chair looking bored, but not making a fuss for once. And as he left that doorway to begin dinner, he listened to their muffled conversation and soft bursts of laughter with a small smile on his lips, for he knew things wouldn’t always be this way. They would have to grow up eventually, and when they did, things would change. Phil could only hope it was for the better.

—

When Tommy turns nine, Wilbur teaches him to braid under circumstances not too different from the ones he had learned under himself.

Well. Not too too different.

Philza and Technoblade had been...busy as of late. In the house for three days, out for a week, in for a week, out for three more, over and over and over again. Wilbur had become more like a father to Tommy in recent months than he should’ve been, his fourteenth birthday fast approaching as their father took Techno out for yet another job, one that Wilbur couldn’t come on because he was too fucking weak to do anything Techno could do, too fucking stupid to learn all the techniques Techno did, lacking all the strength and agility his older sibling possessed, like the useless prick he was-

Right. This is about Tommy.

When Tommy was nine, his hair rested gently against his collarbones in the exact same cut and color as their father wore. If Wilbur was a lesser man, he would’ve hated the kid for it, but it wasn’t his fault that he couldn’t see what a selfish git their father truly was yet. All he knew was that their dad was busy a lot and that, for some reason, Techno needed to go with him. Apparently, that was enough for him to keep holding onto the idea that one day, the man would stay longer and maybe, just maybe, show him some of the same care that his older brother did.

If Wilbur was a better man, he would tell Tommy the truth. He would tell him all about the way Philza had called him useless in a fight, forcing him to instead stay home and care for a child while still being one himself. He would mention how Philza had given him no instructions on how to care for a developing child, how he left out key details to parenting on his own as a goddamn thirteen-year-old, yet remembered to tell him things would be better this way because god forbid he does his fucking job as a father for anyone but Technoblade—

Who he missed. He missed Technoblade, his other half, so fucking bad it hurt sometimes—so bad it left him gasping for breath at two A.M., his head pounding in tandem with his uneven heartbeat, lungs burning as his snot and tears soaked into his brother’s cold, cold sheets. And it made him feel fucking pathetic because the truth of the matter was that...Techno had left him behind too. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to hate the older boy, no matter how hard he tried. Couldn’t hate Philza either, if he were to be honest with himself, but it was a lot easier to pretend he did when his father was the one putting them all in this position to begin with.

So, Tommy was nine when he learned how to braid.

Phil had promised him and Techno would be back Tuesday morning.

It was Wednesday afternoon.

Tommy didn’t fucking understand, and as frustrating as it was that the prick decided to take it out on Wilbur, he couldn’t blame him. Who else was he supposed to take this shit out on? Certainly not the man who had yet to return.

Wilbur had started the braid as a way to distract him. It was simple, really—tell him you know something he doesn’t and that he won’t get to know if he doesn’t sit the fuck down and listen.

When he had started tugging the boy’s hair back from his face, his immediate reaction was to jerk away, swatting at the hands that hovered over his shoulders. This only happened once or twice more before he let it happen naturally, his posture stiff as Wilbur ran his fingers through the boy’s hair with practiced ease.

Though it may not have seemed like it, Tommy was significantly more averse to touch than Techno had ever been. The only reason Techno even seemed averse to it was because of his hesitance to initiate, something he and Wilbur had discussed in depth. Rejection was one of the few fears Technoblade truly had and Wilbur held that fact close to his heart, ready to die with it if need be. Tommy, on the other hand? He was very particular about where and when and why someone was touching him, and it had taken Wilbur a long time to get used to that fact. But, he wasn’t about to make his little brother uncomfortable just so he could be happy and, eventually, he learned the ins and outs of how to touch TommyInnit without causing issue.

Pulling a few of the shorter strands towards the front of Tommy’s face loose, Will separated the blonde’s hair into three sections. They were rather small, what with how thin and short his hair was, it just barely being long enough to even have a proper braid in it, but Wilbur knew he could make it work.

“Now, Toms, you gotta listen to me here, because I can’t show you this bit, yeah? Phil and Tech aren’t here, and my hair is too short, so you’ll just have to feel it out for now, but...this is how you braid hair-” Wilbur had said in a soft voice, brushing the pad of his thumb over the boys neck slowly to ease the tension out of his shoulders. The effect was immediate, the boy slouching forward as if he had just noticed he was holding himself so sternly. Smiling softly, Wilbur instructed him on how to weave the strands together, answering questions and pulling lightly at Tommy’s hair so he could feel exactly where everything went. After he was done, Tommy had reached back to feel the bumps in his hair, all his earlier anger seemingly gone as he gave a small smile. And then he tried it himself.

Of course he got a bit of help at first, Wilbur’s larger hands guiding his own with gentle corrections, but after that Tommy worked on it alone, his older brother watching in silence from a patch of grass beside the porch step.

That night, Tommy and Wilbur slept in Techno’s bed, a soft, blue blanket wrapped tightly around them. And if another body woke them up at some point that night, shoving its way into the mess of limbs, their chest pressed right up against the youngest boy’s back, then that was only for them to know.

—

At eleven years old, Tommy takes a pair of scissors to his hair. With flushed cheeks and salty lips, his hands shaking and his eyes foggy, he cuts, cuts, cuts, until he can no longer braid his hair—until he can no longer look like fucking Phil.

Even though Wilbur had once said he hated Tommy’s long hair—hated how similar he and their dad looked—he felt like crying as he ran his fingers through the uneven strands. He didn’t tell his brother this though, instead grabbing his face and planting a wet kiss on his freckled forehead. In a fierce whisper, Wilbur had said, “I’m so fucking proud of you, Tommy. So fucking proud.”

Tommy never forgets the way he felt that day. He doesn’t forget Wilbur’s words either.

—

When Wilbur loses his last life, Technoblade tells Tommy to braid his hair.

It wasn’t a question either, but a demand forced out between gritted teeth, his face red, his nose stuffy and his lashes wet with unshed tears. Still, his words were clear as day.

“Braid my fucking hair, Theseus. Braid it.”

It had sounded like a plea falling from Techno’s chapped lips, blood caked under his nails as he sat in front of Tommy on a tree stump, slowly itching at his wrists.

“Wilbur told me to stop you if you ever started doing that-”

“Wilbur isn’t fucking here. Just...braid, Toms. Braid.”

Tommy sniffled, but did as he was told.

Maybe it was because he was too tired to argue with the only person he even had left. Maybe it was because he could tell Technoblade was mad at their father for the first time in his life, and he knew how bad his first time had felt. Or, maybe, it was just because he knew Techno fucking cared. Nobody else seemed to, but he knew Techno did and...that was enough for him.

As long as someone else cared—as long as it was fucking Technoblade—that was enough for him.

Just as Tommy had finished the braid, curling his finger around the light pink tail that tied the whole thing off, Techno yanked it forward. Before he could even register that the hair had left his hand, the older boy had taken an axe to the top of it, letting the rest of his hair fall around his face in uneven curls. Though it was a good ten minutes of work wasted, Tommy couldn’t say a damn thing as he watched Techno pocket the braid, muttering a thank you and heading in the direction of Wilbur’s unofficial grave.

In that moment, he felt relief for the first time in a long while.

—

Wilbur Soot was born covered in vernix and blood, weighing just barely above the seven-pound mark, and he came into the world much like he left it. Everyone had heard his cries—even if they weren’t there, even if they didn’t know him well—they had saw the way he spiraled, desperate and afraid and paranoid, searching for help, but never receiving enough.

And though he was the second child born, he left the world first, returning in a yellow sweater with a small braid tucked behind his ear. He didn’t really know why he had one, but he remembered braiding Techno’s hair and he remembered teaching Tommy how to do his own and he remembered, he remembered, he remembered the braids.

[ancientwastedlores]

Undone by “Darling”

REQUEST (from @november-solarstorms​): Celebrating another year of this earth being braced by Tom Hiddleston's presence! Lol. Might I make a prompt request? I feel as though it would be interesting to read from Loki's POV to explore the dynamics between him and a human female who is just as intelligent as he. She has a sharp wit and even sharper tongue. Her sarcastic and clever nature enable her to out-banter Tony Stark, the king of snark himself (may he rest in peace). But she is also just as flirtatious and salacious. She never blushes, never falters, and is incredibly clever. You can decide the nature of their encounter. Really im just in it for a good game of cat and mouse.

A/N: Okay, I had SO MUCH FUN writing this!! And yeah, this will run a bit longer than my usual fics lol. Also, there IS a Loki POV, just keep reading thaaanks <3

WARNINGS: none. 

WORD COUNT: 1,932

____________________________________________________________________

Undone by “Darling” 

17 hours and 6 white chocolate mochas later, it was finally ready - an upgraded version of Corvus Glaive’s glaive, this one spec-ed out to your fancies and requirements. It was a beast, and definitely not something Nick Fury would ever let you play around with, even if you made it. 

Satisfied with your work, you remove your safety goggles and grin at Stark, who is working on his own weapon he scavenged from the Black Order. 

‘I’m done!’ you say triumphantly, causing him to look up and groan.  ‘How did you finish before me!?’ he lowers his glasses and looks at your weapon.  ‘I’m smarter’ you say.   ‘I went to MIT’  ‘And I didn’t, yet here we are, both in the same lab’. 

He shakes his head, not unlike a petulant child, causing you to laugh. 

‘How far along are you?’ you ask.  ‘Still running diagnostics’.  ‘Still!?’  ‘Have you seen the size of his hammer?’ he gestures to Cull Obsidian’s chain hammer on his work table, but the innuendo doesn’t escape you and you grin at him. He facepalms. ‘Y/n, for god’s sake...’  ‘You’re just tired, or you’d appreciate the joke too’. 

You stretch your weary body and let out a deep breath. You’d test the weapon out tomorrow, but for now, you need a nap. 

‘Take a load off, Stark. Hammer’ll be there tomorrow’.  ‘Oh, you’d like that wouldn’t you...’ he puts his goggles back on and get to work. 

xx

Loki’s POV: 

Humans are surprising, but I always knew that. I never thought them boring, even if my brother says I do. Humans are of so little power but such incredible resilience that it’s frankly astonishing. I am inclined to believe that sometimes resilience is just stupidity... in most cases, I am right. But that’s not to say I haven’t come across some truly brave people. 

Take the Avengers Tower, for example. 

Just in here, you have Y/n, a brave soldier with the mind of an intergalactic scavenger, and I do mean that as a compliment. She’s awfully clever, she can build better than Stark, and has a track record of finishing every mission to perfection and before time. And then you have the Super Soldier Steve Rogers, a big muscled, big hearted idiot who often mistakes challenging our enemies for bravery and morality. 

The two couldn’t be more different, but they get along like siblings. Not siblings like Thor and I... better adjusted, perhaps. 

They sit in front of me, talking about some mission while they play Chess. Her moves are quick but calculated, his take more time because he’s more interested in telling his story than playing the game. 

‘...so there I am, no weapons, no shield, bang in the middle of the Serpent Citadel...’ 

He’s a good storyteller, I’ll give him that. But not as good as Y/n. She paints quite a picture, full of delicious gory details and horribly dark jokes. 

‘Steve, you have to pay attention, you’re losing’ she says.  ‘Yeah, I don’t actually know how to play chess, I just wanted you to listen to my story’. 

She looks up at him, almost offended. ‘STEVE...’  ‘Cool, I’m gonna go wrap Stark into a game of Battleships and tell him about my fight with Copperhead’. 

She laughs as he leaves the room, and she puts the chess pieces away. 

‘We could play?’ I ask her.  ‘Is the God in a mood to lose?’  ‘Over confidence isn’t attractive in anybody’. ‘Oh darling, neither is telling someone what is and isn’t attractive’. 

She’s never called me that before, and in the context it should seem cutting, but it isn’t. ‘Darling?’  ‘Problem?’  ‘It’s quite a term of endearment to set someone straight’. 

She says nothing. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ I tease her. She only smiles and continues putting the pieces away neatly. Stark’s chess set is gold and black, all individually carved pieces. The pawns are all Iron Man suits, but that’s to be expected. She handles them with the care Stark would. 

‘I mean...’ I continue, ‘honestly, if someone heard, they’d never let you live it down’. 

And she carries on, unbothered. 

‘Y/n!’  ‘Oh dear, look at you come completely undone with just one term of endearment’ she comments, shutting the chess set. ‘Whatever would happen if I held your hand?’ 

The very thought of it seemed to drain my brain of blood. I unwillingly glanced at her hands, working the lock mechanism of the box, her blue veins prominent. 

‘Cat got your tongue?’ she asked. 

I stood up, the human emotion of embarrassment becoming too familiar for me. ‘I’ll have to see you at lunch’.  ‘Sure, darling’. 

Oh, I hate how she’s enjoying this. 

----------

The next day, Y/n booked a training room to test out the Glaive, and Stark had a rusty but working chain hammer. Steve insists on trying it out anyway, and now our breakfast is being spent on discouraging him from doing that. 

‘Guys... if nothing else, I’ll still have my shield. Let me test it out!’  ‘Y/n’s glaive cuts through Vibranium, you know that, right?’ Stark says.  ‘Y/n wouldn’t do that’. ‘Oh yes she would’ Y/n says nonchalantly as she sinks her teeth into a bacon and egg sandwich. 

As she does, the yolk runs down her fingers. She makes a sound at the inconvenience and sets the sandwich down, then grabs a napkin. I’m hardly ever crude, but the energy it took not to take her hand and lick off the yolk myself could burn every star in the galaxy. 

Captain America scrunches his nose at her remark, severely offended. 

‘In any case, that shield barely covers your giant body. It will force Stark to make you a new one’.  ‘What do you care about his giant body’ Stark says.  ‘It’s America’s ass, Tony’ she takes a sip of her iced coffee. Steve blushes, and Tony rolls his eyes. 

----------

The training facility is magic, of course, somewhere between a mirror dimension and Wanda’s reality powers creating a safe cocoon inside the building so no one can be harmed. Y/n hardly trusted anybody to fight with her except Thor, but given the nature of Corvus’ Glaive, she knew magic would be required. 

And so she called me. 

After getting into my battle armour, I stepped into the facility, equipped with my sceptre and the teachings of the witches of Asgard. 

She whistles as I walk in. ‘Trying to distract me from killing you?’  ‘Are you?’ I ask. She’s dressed in a black bodysuit, details of purple in her belt and weapon harnesses.  ‘Why yes, I am. Glad you noticed’. 

The glaive is on the floor, and she stomps her foot on one part of it so it swivels up and neatly places itself in her hand. She smiles. 

‘Try to keep up. I’m not just looking for eye candy in a training partner, darling’ she says, getting into battle stance. 

With nothing left to say for the second time this week, I aim the sceptre at her and the stone at the end glows. 

She charges and I shoot at her, but she spins the glaive and creates a shield which absorbs the energy. 

She continues to charge at me. I shoot again, and again the glaive takes the hit. Not a scratch on her. 

Once she comes closer, she simply places the flat end of the weapon against my chest, sending me hurtling back into a wall. 

She spins the glaive and laughs. 

‘Compliments of Wakanda. It absorbs any hits and charges up with kinetic energy’. 

I get up on my feet. This is far from over. I create multiple illusions to surround her, all of them brandishing knives, Chitauri tech, and sceptres. 

‘Damn, suddenly my whole evening has opened up’ she says, looking around.

Even my clones look around at each other puzzled. 

‘Come on then, who’s up?’ she spins the glaive around. ‘One at a time or all at once, baby’. 

They charge at her, and I expected her to fight them off at once... instead she plants the staff on the ground and ducks, and a semi-circle shell grows from the top of the staff, down to the floor... like a mini fortress, completely impenetrable. It could, no doubt, continue to take hits and build up kinetic energy, so I call off the clones. 

She gets up and retracts the shell. ‘Nanotech’ she grins at me. ‘The whole shell sits in a disk. It can withstand bombs and even a moon’.  ‘Is there any tech you haven’t adopted?’  ‘I’m an intergalactic scavenger, aren’t I?’ 

I stare at her, horrified. Can she read minds? 

‘Maybe I can. Or maybe I heard you tell Stark when he was complaining about me finishing my weapon first’. 

Silence. 

‘Also, darling, you’re awfully predictable in your fighting’. 

She picks up every trick and tech she sees, so beating her is less about weapons and more about cunning. 

No problem. Cunning is my specialty. 

‘Ready now?’ she asks.  ‘Mhm’. 

She takes a deep breath to ready herself, her eyes shutting slightly. Once they open back up, she stares in shock. 

In my Jotun form, I give her my most menacing smile.

She cocks her head to the side, studying my icy blue skin. 

The illusion I cast of myself approaches behind her, dagger in hand. Once it’s close enough and I can almost taste my victory, she raises the glaive and in one swift motion, sticks it into its abdomen. 

The illusion disappears into green light. 

‘Cute’ she remarks. She points the glaive at me. ‘What else you got for me?’  I shift back to my Asgardian form and sigh. ‘You win’. 

Y/n laughs and lowers her weapon. ‘Oh darling, I won the second you walked in wearing all that leather’. She winks at me, then walks out of the facility. I feel a blush creep to my face, much against my will. 

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

‘Maybe you should stick to your guns, Tony’ Y/n says, ‘Fancy suits is it for you, chain hammers may be overshooting it’.  ‘Is that what they taught you in the back alley you learnt ironmongery from?’  ‘Yes! Do you want their number, I’m sure they’ll have a spot on the waiting list for you’. 

Ah. Y/n’s relationship with Stark seemed more like mine with Thor. While they banter, Steve and Natasha tear up from laughing. I wouldn’t go so far as to call this domestic, but it certainly is comfortable. 

‘Come on, the glaive can’t be that good, right Loki?’ Stark asks. 

The company looks at me expectantly. ‘To say her weapon isn’t good enough means to insult your own tech, Stark. Everything about it is founded on your theories’. 

‘So technically, it’s my brain that made the glaive so cool’ he tells Y/n.  ‘Yeah, you could say that. The glaive comes from the same mind that manufactured Captain America’s dinner plate’. 

Steve doesn’t find that one funny, but Natasha does, sending her into peals of laughter. 

‘Oh whatever’ Tony huffs. ‘I’m going back to the lab’. 

He stands up and Y/n grabs his arm. ‘Aww Tony, I’m just kidding!’ she pats his hand, ‘Look, you’re a brilliant inventor, we all have our slow days’. 

He sighs and nods, and holds her hand. ‘Thanks... I guess I’m just not in my element, you know?’  ‘Yeah...’ she keeps patting his hand. 

And the feeling of domesticity creeps in. We really are all a family. Y/n smiles encouragingly at Tony, and Tony seems more relaxed. 

‘So, you want me to get you the number of that ironmongery, or...?’  ‘OH FOR...’ he snatches his arm away and storms out of the room, with Steve and Nat losing it all over again. 

___________________________________________________________

Ah this was so fun!!!!!!!! I hope you guys liked it <3 

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[ccelinewritess]

the distance between us

pairing- draco malfoy x reader

word count- 9.7k

summary- the first time draco uses the muggle post system, it goes so terribly wrong, and a letter falls into the hands of a girl who was never supposed to see it, a muggle at that.

warnings- curse words, ptsd, anxiety/ panic attacks, depression mention of death, murder, blood and burns aswell as insomia, seperation anxiety (?) and my grammar.if these may trigger you, i suggested not reading.

a/n- this took me a while to get out, sry abt that. the reader was set to live in a canadian town called kelowna, british columbia. it takes place in readers grade 11/12 and dracos 6/7 year. i hope it’s not to self inserted, and you guys can enjoy and relate to it. big thank you to @dracodear for the help on this, love you! also thanks to everyone who left owl name suggestions, all were awesome and i ended up going with @winnsmills suggestion ‘noctua’ ! tumblrs been acting weird, so i hope it lets me post the whole thing. letters are in italics. also please note, this is off the movies timeline! i tried to fit in as many details as possible but some didn’t make it.

-

the town was widespread. wineries and mountains everywhere, the okanagan lake splitting it down the middle, reconnecting the cities halves by a bridge. little snow and tons of rain. jeep wranglers in every colour roaring around into unholy hours of the night, bustling with life yet all to lonely at times. but hey, that’s kelowna for you.

rain was running down the windows of y/ns most boring class, last period biology. she knew she should be paying attention. she had a high gpa to maintain, and couldn’t afford to fail another class besides french. the last five minutes of blabbering ended after what felt like a year.

‘you are dismissed, ill see you all monday, have a good weekend’ and with that everyone rose, heading to the parking lot as fast as possible in an attemp to dodge traffic. despite pouring rain, the air was hot, and on the ride home y/ns mind raced over every single assignment she had to complete over the next two days, while her hands tapped the steering wheel.

‘english essay, math review, history paper, business management graph’ she muttered under her breath. the town was busy, many students often blew off class to go shopping, or hit a movie, or smoke weed, the possibilities were endless. her house was cool compared to outside, and empty. no one was home, not that it was a surprise to the girl, people weren’t usually home, siblings gone to university, and parents working absurd amounts.

something caught her eye on the counter, an envelope, an ordinary seeming one, but absolutely covered in small pictured stamps with ‘england’ underneath each one. eighteen of them, all different. she knew shouldn’t open it, so she didn’t. at first. but it was irresistible. there was a return address written in the smallest writing she’d ever seen. wogshell, no, wiltshire? she took it to her room, and locked the door before ripping it open. she didn’t want the one time she had something intresting going on to be interrupted by whoever might show up.

her mouth fell open at every line of the same scroll. who was snape? why was this draco boy sending him a letter? he didn’t need his help to kill who? what the fuck was an unbreakable vow and why shouldn’t snape sign it? why was his mum going to see snape? who was the dark lord and why did he pick draco for a task? what kind of name is dumbledore?

what she already knew was confirmed- this letter was most definetly not for her. but newly- she opened a letter from a potential murderer or maybe it was a prank, a sick prank if it was one.

so instead she crafted up quite the response, whoever wrote this was either hysterical or in distress, and needed some sort of company- she thought, atleast.

-

it had been thirteen days, why wasn’t the letter back yet? the owl still couldn’t fly even about the house without damaging itself further. maybe using the muggle post system was a mistake. but better have it land into the hands of a muggle, who would likely throw it out, than a wizard who would know a death eater would soon be wondering around hogwarts.

as if on que, the door bell rang and echoed through the empty manor. on the porch sat an envelope, with only one stamp, his name in the middle and another he didn’t recognize in the corner. shit, this couldn’t be good. his eye caught the stamp. canada? fuck, this was supposed to go to cokeworth not bloody canada. no one was home so he opened it right there in the foyer.

hello, draco.

i am not snape- nor do i know who snape is. i am also very unfimilar with some of the vocabulary you used. dark lord? unbreakable vow? you seem to have quite the situation going on, if i read correctly. im not exactly stupid, but i do know that this letter was most definitely not supposed to be in my possession. i didn’t know who to send it to, id send it back to you, but you probably don’t want a copy of your own letter. i also know you likely have enough on your plate, but if you’d like someone to talk to im only half a world away, have no sort of schedule and am a good listener, well reader in this case. good luck with whatever task you’ve mentioned. p.s. you had about seventeen stamps to many, first time sending a letter? unfortunate fate, huh ? what kind of name is snape and what the heck is a dumbledore? i suppose it’s none of my business, knowing you likely won’t respond, but if you do i wrote my address on the front. have a good day/ night/ whatever time it is wherever you are.

y/n l/n

tears were welling in dracos eyes, he was floored, in a good and bad way. his task was already going downhill. the letter he sent snape had fallen into the hands of a muggle, who did not throw the letter away, but responded. and snape was likely going to bine himself into the task through the unbreakable vow, which draco was more than able to complete. he wouldn’t have been chosen if he wasn’t, right?

not only had she responded, she offered him help, well distant company, to a stranger who obviously had quite a few problems and she clearly had no regard for her own safety. he couldn’t tell her about the wizarding world. not that he could tell her about anything, she could be lying. he had a task to focus on, he couldn’t write her back.

and that was true- at the time. he had no intent of writing the girl back. and yet he found himself reading the 201 words over and over, running his hands across the paper, expecting them to fade away as he wiped. counting and recounting. he surely couldn’t talk to any of the twats at hogwarts, maybe a stranger could help numb the pain. and as long as he didn’t tell anyone- she couldn’t get hurt, she was to far.

draco was packed for hogwarts, the response at the bottom of the trunk, underneath his clothes. he’d just have to get to the damn school, then he could write all he wanted- without his parents knowledge or ridicule. his mind jumbled together what he was going to say while his friends rambled on. the train pulled up to the castle after dreadful hours and he could barely sit still during the opening feast. his thoughts did falter though, when dumbledore gave his speech, he felt guilty- the shame of his family weighing on his shoulders. he looked around, all his classmates staring in adoration at a man who would be dead ten months from now, and they were sitting in the same room as his killer.

the singular room was nice, he knew it wasn’t for lounge, but for plots of death.

before he began he started making promises to himself. if i get behind on the plan ill won’t write, if snape notices anything about it, ill stop. the list went on and on.

he couldn’t put his pen down, the words continued to fly out the end, was he oversharing?

dear y/n

my deepest apologies that my last letter found it’s way to you. im sure you didn’t expect whatever you may have perceived from it. honestly, i don’t know how it arrived all the way over there. im almost positive you have better things to do than listen to my problems, and i know you had no control over the fact it arrived, but i ask you to please not share this information with anyone. i am unsure if i will take up your offer of amity, if you were serious that is. im at school now, so if you’d like to respond, not that you have to- you can send letters back with my owl, it’ll be faster (and i won’t have to worry about stamps- thanks for the tip by the way)

draco malfoy 

and with that noctua was off into the night, and he could only hope that it would make it to her.

-

droll was running down y/ns chin and she was caught in a dream. suddenly a vigorous tapping on the window pulled her into consciousness, the sight of owl knocking her backwards in a scare. a crash sounded, if the tapping didn’t wake anyone up, that surely did. she almost considered just trying to ignore it, until she noticed a letter tied to its neck and reluctantly opened the window. she’d never seen an owl in real life before, but was aware from school that they weren’t exactly the kindest of creatures. this one just perched on the window while she removed the new enevelope, no stamps in sight. just a neatly printed address, and his in the corner.

from the new letter she learned even more- this wasn’t a prank, draco was a real person, was still in school, and whatever the first misplaced letter contained was true. he had some sort of task and didnt want help, but that was all. so with what she could, she wrote another response. it took an hour and she wasn’t exactly sure what she had written by mid morning.

draco

you’d be quite suprised actually, it gets lonely over here. i still haven’t exactly deciphered your original note, so if you would like to help me understand i think i’d be ready. and no worries about me, my lips are sealed. what is an unbreakable vow, im curious? you go to boarding school? and owls, really? what the hell is up with that? im pretty sure it’s illegal to own one here, but we are countries away, so perhaps it’s different all the way over there. send whatever you want. i do not- by the way- have anything better to do in the slightest.

y/n

-

he continued to write throughout the month of september, which bled into october before he knew it. he was avoiding questions about the task, just wanting someone to talk to. it wasn’t easy, she was curious, which draco couldn’t exactly be mad at her for that since he continued to write her, accepting the distant friendship that was forming.

he was learning a lot about her aswell. besides french, which he informed her he spoke fluently numerous times, she was a very good student. she was single, he didn’t remember how that came up but made a note in his mind- he couldn’t date her, nor did he know enough about her to be properly involved.

she read a lot of books, sappy romances mostly, couldn’t cook anything deemed edible by anyone, and her favourite colour was green, he smirked when reading that for the first time. she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her future, just not a doctor like her parents wanted.

-

y/n was sitting in english as her teacher reviewed about univeristy application requirements. only next year they would be getting accepted and denied from their dream schools. she’d spent years dreaming of it, university, and yet somehow a boy half way around the was racing through her mind. she felt horrible about it, the small crush. it was incredibly selfish, falling for a boy with so much going on, he certainly didn’t need her as anything more than a friend to talk to, but he was good with his words, and making her feel important too. her dismissal came and so did a classmate, approaching confident and cocky.

‘hey, l/n’ he said, a smirk on his face

‘oh, uh hey, will’

‘what are doing tonight?’ her mind went blank, any excuse, come on, say something

‘i have plans’ wow real specific, great job, y/n

‘like what’

‘fish funeral, real important stuff, my family is just devastated’ her voice was clearly sarcastic and that was all before she walked right out. no she didn’t exactly have plans, but waiting for dracos owl provided much more company than any date could have. the sight of dracos owl flying towards the pre-opened window was somewhat relieving, she didn’t know why, just the fact that he had not failed yet, and was still out there was nice. she hadn’t had this much company. since last year at least, when her supposed best friend started ghosting her because of some petty shit.

thankfully noctua ad gotten quite good at being discreet when delivering the letters. of all the things on y/ns junior year bucket list, explaining to her parents that she had befriended a british boy with an owl who flyed into her room while her neighbours had a clear view, wasn’t one. she also began keeping a bowl of water under her bed for the owl to drink when it arrived, knowing it couldn’t have been easy travelling back and forth.

y/n

im not fully sure you want to know the depth, yet you seem to want me to corrupt you with my villain with a task baggage. i suppose it couldn’t hurt if i told you about the unbreakable vow. it’s like a promise or a bond, but if you break it then you die. if you can stomach that i may be able to tell you more. how far away do you reckon we are?

draco

-

draco wasn’t falling behind too far, but his first attemp had failed, and panic attacks were taking up most his time. he never had any, at least not this bad until this year. at least once a day he would start sweating, no matter how cold he was, unable to control his breathing or tears, feeling like the walls were caving in upon him.

that is, besides writing y/n as much as he could. apparently she was being honest, she had no schedule of any sort besides going to school. he hated to say, but he was becoming attached, he didn’t exactly know how either, but everytime he recieved a letter a small weight was lifted from his shoulders, even just when he read it.

noctua was doing the weekly, almost daily round at breakfast with the other owls and draco watched with anticipation as a letter dropped on his lap and owl on his shoulder. he tried to conceal the letter into his robes but pansy had taken matters into her own hands. likely jealous that she’d spent collectively around six hours with him the whole year, and he never talked to her like he used to.

‘ou draco whats this’ twirling the envelope between her hands. the letter had no name, no stamp, only a small heart drawing in the corner.

‘hands off parkinson’ he said while taking the letter back. ‘a letter from my mother, if you must know’ he said knowing that neither his mother or father had written him anything, despite having all the time to do so.

he got up and left the second he was done, not wanting to draw snapes suspicion about who could possibly be more important than working on this task.

he rushed to his room, desperate for more of her words. he tried to picture her voice in his head, but had to remind himself she wasn’t british nor was she from southern america.

draco,

so you just die if you break the promise? intresting. it’s not as hard to stomach as you seem to think, very unique tradition i suppose. you are not a villain draco, you haven’t told me much about it but your to good of a person to have picked any of this for yourself. i calculated when we you were home, seven thousand three hundred something, i don’t know where your fancy boarding school where you have owls for pets is, so it may be further. im ready whenever you are.

y/n

her letter was relieving for him aswell, even in the slightest it helped, but she deserved some sort of answer for helping him take his mind off the task for a couple minutes. he could tell if she wasn’t scared off already, this would do it.

y/n

if you are sure, here it is. dumbledore is my headmaster, the dark lord is a very powerful wizard, and snape is my professor. if i don’t kill dumbledore before july, he will kill me and my family, if i can’t complete the task, snape will kill him under terms of an unbreakable vow. im not a very good villain that’s for sure, my first attemp failed, and my classmate is out cold. i understand if you dont want to write to me anymore, just don’t tell anyone about this, please.

dm.

-

the only words to describe the feeling that overwhelmed her senses as she read were devastation and shock. tears pooled in her eyes as she tried to imagine herself with that much responsibility to wildhold until july. another detail that caught her eye, wizard? what did he mean by wizard? is that the word for dictator in england? certainly he wasn’t talking about the wizards she read about in storybooks as a child. her hand shook slightly and she debated mentioning it.

draco

you’re silly if you think i’d stop writing you. you need company now more than ever. please don’t hold things back from your letters, you deserve someone to talk to. that is quite the situation, im sorry if i pushed you, you do have enough on your shoulders and i want to help you as much as i can. i hate to ask, but you mentioned ‘wizards’ and i am a bit confused.

all my love

yn

-

initially, draco went into shock. he knew he was probably oversharing, but didn’t expect to slip up in that way. he begrudgingly admitted; knowing that if this went badly he would likely be banished from the wizarding world, which didn’t seem like such a horrible punishment to him anymore. and yet she was fascinated, by the coins he sent her, the subjects he learned- which she compared to her own much less exciting ones, and everything he told her about it. he could now talk to her about much more, since both his secrets were now out in the open to her. he told her about the about the houses, and they both agreed she would probably be in hufflepuff, well he thought so, her kind and accepting nature, and she didn’t know enough to disagree. and for the first time in the long time he was seeing things differently, completely diminishing the rude behaviour he often displayed towards the house.

she even sent him a picture, the first time he ever saw her face. a large smile spread across her beautiful features, she seemed to be laughing. eyes glistening in the sun even prettier than he could have imagined. he slept with it under his pillow, and could stare at the still image for hours. no it didn’t move around, but he couldnt care less. he only had one picture of himself in his possession and he was young, about four. she was facinated by the moving image, his blonde hair and attitude shining right through. he would owl his mother for a more recent one, but didn’t want to explain why.

the letters were helping him, but the task wasn’t advancing. his second attempt had failed, he was caught sneaking into slughorns party, and harry was onto him. they were also causing him doubt. say they did get the cabinet fixed, he couldn’t see himself killing dumbledore anymore, the more he talked to her he realized he couldn’t be a killer, as cold as he was to some people, but he had to, didnt he?

most importantly every letter she sent gave him a sense of hope. that the second this is over he could move. away from voldemort, and potter, his parents even, england in whole. perhaps not to canada, but it could be a change, half way across the world with the girl who was helping him stay alive through his letters. he just needed to stay alive long enough too see her.

the seasons changed around draco, but his room stayed the same. hot from mysterious potions, for himself and some for dumbledore, he had not had much hope after the wine, though. it was lonely, not that he’d like y/n here, he’d much rather be there, all the way across the world.

-

may came in a blur, and finals were creeping up. one week y/n sat at her desk, every night, waiting for a letter that didn’t come. on the fifth letterless day she cried. not exactly knowing why, it wasn’t her that had much of a reason to cry, but dracos company had filled her lonely life up with light of its own, leaving it darker than it was before she saw the first letter. she was silly to be so attached and silly to expect him to reciprocate the feelings she had proclaimed in the last one she sent, and should have expected him to stop eventually. so she continued on with school, finding it a bit easier to concentrate now that a draco sized whole was missing from her brain, and her heart aswell.

the next week, though, a letter came, very appreciated by y/n as the whole other universe, british boy forgetting thing wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

y/n

im sorry for not writing, the classmate i mentioned all those months ago woke from the curse, and the potter twat hexed me with a spell id never heard of before. i would have tried to contact with you but i couldn’t exactly trust what my brain was planning on writing, and the cuts are still a bit sore. the cabinets fixed, but even if everything works out okay i won’t be writing very much at all. i’ll be home in july, but the manor will be infested with death eaters and i can’t let you get hurt. thank you for everything l/n.

draco

it stung a little, knowing that the empty feeling the girl just experienced would be more frequent, he didn’t mention anything about what she had said, and that this could be the last time she ever heard from him if he didn’t kill dumbledore. in hindsight, practically telling her she loved him in a letter wasn’t what he needed, she knew that.

-

he left out the fact that he the spell put a him in a huge emotinal draught. he was exhausted constantly, crying even more than before. the cuts were sore, so he wasn’t holding everything back.

the last month of school came and went all to fast for dracos liking, and death eaters now roamed around the castle, causing havoc where ever they could. his trunk had been shurken so small it looked like a small muggle toy he put into his pocket easily. the dark mark that was stretched across his left arm was now hanging in the gray sky, and the headmaster was no where to be seen. he paced anxiously around a vacant corridor until he heard a pop in the astronomy tower. he didn’t think people could apparate into hogwarts, it would have made his job much easier.

‘harry, get snape, i need snape now’ he seemed exhausted, maybe this wouldn’t be as hard

‘sir im going to sit you down okay, and then ill go get madam pomf-‘

‘severus, harry, I need severus now, go get him and talk to no one else’ he said in a shallow yet somewhat urgent and angry tone.

draco waited for footsteps to disappear, before whipping the door open with his wand already ready.

‘oh hello, draco, nice to see you on this fine evening’ he said nonchalantly, leaning his weight against the wall.

‘EXPELLIARMUS’ draco boomed, successfully disarming the man without counter attempts before glancing around to see a second broom

‘who else is here?’ he said sounding confident but feeling the opposite

‘i could ask you the same question, acting alone are you? you don’t seem supported’

‘no, there are death eaters in your school tonight, and i got them here’ he snarked ‘they’ll be up, any minute now, their fighting down below. i’ve got a job to do’

‘well done boy, if you don’t mind me asking a few questions, before you get on with it, im very intrested’ was he kidding? he knew draco was about to kill him right? wanting to stall, and not fully wanting to kill him he nodded his head yes.

‘you seem scared to act until they join you

‘im not scared, you should be scared’ he snarled, unable to contain the fear in his voice any longer any longer

‘oh draco’ he sighed ‘while we wait for your friends arrive, care to explain how you smuggled them in here? i never imagined it possible, especially not by a student’

‘i had to mend the broken cabinet that no ones used for years, there’s another one in borgin and burkes. montague got stuck in told everyone stories about it, how he could sometimes hear what was going on in the shop and sometimes hear hogwarts like a passage, and i was the only one who discovered what it meant. not even borgin, not you either, i did it right under your nose, you didn’t realize anything’ he said

‘you are right, i didn’t know that. i do- on the other hand, know that you aren’t a killer’

he raised his wand a little higher, feeling wheezy and as though his legs would give in any second

‘how you know that, I’ve done despicable things, you wouldn’t even be able to fathom’

it was dumbledore’s time to pause, glancing up at the sky and looking around the room before continuing

‘draco i know you almost killed katie bell and ron weasley. you’ve been trying to kill me all year, forgive me for saying this, but they’ve been very feeble attempts. to be honest ive wondered wheather your heart has truly been in it’

‘it has, and if you knew why didnt you stop me’

‘snape has been watching over you on my orders’

‘ it’s not on your orders, he promised my mother-‘

‘ofcourse he would tell you that, but it happens to be that i trust professor snape’

‘your losing it then, he’s a double agent, he isn’t working for you- he’s been trying to get in on the action all year, helping me and all. doesn’t matter now- he probably doesn’t even know they are here yet, he will wake up tomorrow and no longer be the dark lords favourite, he will be nothing compare to me’ confidence was building within him

‘very gratifying, we all like being recognized for our hard work, but, draco?im standing here wandless and weak, unable to defend myself, and you have not made any move to kill me, dont blame me for believing you will not, but let’s discuss your options’

‘my options’ he laughed ‘im standing here with a wand, about to kill you’

‘oh dear boy, if you were going to kill me you would have when you disarmed me, not stayed for a little chat’

‘i haven’t got any options, don’t you understand, i have to kill you, or he will kill me’

‘okay, if you don’t want to join the order with your mother where we could protect you, i only have one more question’

‘better hurry, theyre on their way’ he almost laughed which was quickly replaced when Dumbledore said his next words.

‘who is y/n l/n’ at that a tear fell down dracos face, and he lowered his wand almost completely

‘i-i don’t know who that is, odd l-last words’ he stuttered

‘draco dont play dumb now, not after we discovered you are very intelligent. we left some of the security measures from last year that Umbridge enabled, and I couldn’t help but notice hundreds of letters flowing to and from her. i looked into student files, ilvermornies too, nothing, id never heard the name, a muggle i presumed. but of all the things, that had me the most confused. i couldn’t figure out why you would be contacting her, so i did some meddling’

‘WHAT DID YOU DO’

‘fiesty all the sudden, are you? i felt bad after opening this, it seemed very personal, and i probably should given it too you sooner, but i was a bit preoccupied double checking my drinks and all’ dumbledore said handing him the letter.

draco

how is the cabinet coming? it’s raining even more here than usual, all day and night. and don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. you are just a kid, you shouldn’t be forced to be a hero. you are protecting so many people right now, but i don’t need any. you have given my life enough light in the last few months than i ever recall, and im so thankful that letter came to me. i wish you were here with me right now, but i know you can’t be, so just stay alive, okay?

y/n

more tears fell, he hated being so weak at the mention of her, crying before he completed the blessing his father and bellatrix considered the task to be.

‘she’s right, draco, you deserve another chance’

he was speechless, and could tell Dumbledore knew he found his weakness.

‘i always pictured you and pansy, never in a million years imagined you to be in a relationship with a muggle’

‘no matter who does it, your about to be killed, and im not here to discuss my love life am i?’

‘so you do love her?’ before draco could even think he heard a door open and raised his wand, hiding the letter faster than he had ever moved.

‘shut up, they will kill her’ he said quietly and desperately

in walked fenrir greyback, yaxley, and bellatrix. they made banter of their own, but her words replayed. he couldn’t do it.

‘go on draco’ his aunt whispered into his ear, making him shiver.

‘DO IT, DO IT BOY’ she yelled, in a high pitched and annoying voice

he felt a strong arm over his chest, pushing him aside, and he saw the whoosh of snapes robes and an already pleading dumbledore

‘severus, please’

‘AVADA KEDAVRA’ snape shouted, a green flash producing from the end of his wand, hitting the old man square in the chest. draco rushed over to the edge, watching him fall. it was a long way down.

-

the rain had sudsided, sunlight leaking into her room during the day. watching the sky at night, failing to find constellations he described many times to her. her wardrobe was mostly untouched, remaining in pyjamas most of the week. the odd time she did leave, she saw her old friends walking and laughing out her car window. eating and socializing felt like a chore, and she hadn’t communicated with the boy since may. he could be dead, she didn’t know. there was no death on the ‘muggle’ news, and draco wasn’t on the top wanted list, not that he likely would be on the television all the way over here. he could be fine, in wiltshire, going to dinner parties and holding balls. or maybe, he too, was sitting in his room staring at the ceiling for days on end. she had now hung the picture of a young draco by her desk, not needing to worry about anyone seeing. her siblings were once again home, but out living their lives so much that it still felt like they were gone. for the first time she noticed his scroll on the back.

‘i was four when this was taken i believe, my hair is very similar, i was quite sassy, im sure that shows without explanation.’ she blushed while reading, it was true. his hands were on his hips whipping his head around.

-

every day was a surprise around malfoy manor. not the kind of surprise draco liked. not the feeling of butterflies in his stomach when he read y/ns letters, those were replaced by a pit as they were summoned around the large table in the dining room. the first one he attended was horrible, watching his muggle studies teacher being hung above their heads, pleading for the help of severus as she died. he bit his tongue in an attempt to avoid raging about about every comment surrounding muggle culture. each one tore his heart, as he imagined the girl all those kilometres away, the girl he had no contact with, but he looked at her picture as much as possible, and hoped one day he could make her smile again like she did in the image.

-

senior year was here, and y/n schedule picked up once again. her timetable was full, maybe it was best, a distraction, after a whole summer of thinking alone in her room. draco was on her mind at night, no matter how hard she tried to forget. she’d made friends with her creative promotions partner, logan. he was certainly not intrested in her in anyway besides friends, but company after all this time was enjoyable, just in the hour of class

-

draco had little privacy, with death eaters in every hallway, conversing with eachother. wherever he went someone was there, until he finally got sick of it and began going to the garden bench. with a book, sometimes, giving some of the sappy love stories y/n mentioned a try or even the poetry books she sent with noctua awhile back, they were okay, but his heart hurt at the feeling of relation in every line. he could only read one or two poems at a time, without tears forming in his green orbs.

sometimes he went with a pen and a notebook. he wrote about everything. the smell of the plants around him, the feeling in his chest when the dark lord called for a meeting. most of the notebook, though, was filled with poems of his own. and letters he had no intention of sending for her own safety. she wasn’t in harms way, though, other followers were preoccupied with ruining weddings and other things they considered fun. he blabbered on for pages, about how he missed seeing noctua fluttering towards him at breakfast. how he rereads the letter that dumbledore gave him the night he died. how she listened to him rant on and on, giving her support no matter how evil he felt. how he found love where it wasn’t supposed to be.

snow was falling once again, he had to dress in layers, making it hard to write often, the plants started dying as cold settled over and his mother no longer babied him like she used to before the death eaters began inhabiting the mansion. he couldn’t keep himself company any longer and gave into the pressure he put on himself. as long as they were careful, she’d be in no destruction- he prayed as he wrote what seemed to be an appropriate response after all this time.

-

like it had been decades, she flinched at the noise of the owl on the window, carrying a much larger scroll that he’d ever sent before, some parts scratched out and written above. his writing was much less tidy than she remembered, like the letters on the page were anxious for her reaction.

love,

after all this time, im sorry you are just now hearing from me. you have ever single right to be annoyed with me, after you listened to me for months, helping me emotionally in ways i never be able to repay you for. you do not need to forgive me, or write me back. i just wanted to keep you safe. but i needed to tell you everything before it might actually be to late. you’ve probably moved on and forgotten about me, like you should, but i guess im saying that i am alive. i didn’t kill him either. snape did. i thought i was going to be able to, but he started talking about you. he gave me a letter from you that he had already opened, the words repeated in my head over and over. you talked about how i deserved another chance, and how you wish I’d was there with you. right before he died he asked me if i loved you. i knew the answer but didn’t have time to say it. ive read your poetry books, they aren’t as bad as i once thought, i can’t read to many at once. i try to forget what dumbledore said that night, and that night altogether. but one day i read ‘that’s how you know you love someone, i guess. when you cant experience anything without wishing the other person was there to see it too.’ when i sit in the garden i imagine you smelling the flowers, myself picking one and putting it behind your ear. when i go on walks i imagine your hand in mine. youre in my dreams. my never ending thought. i remember the way i felt when we started talking a lot, and how I felt when we didn’t get a chance. you listened to me when no one else offered. not even my parents. i hope your doing okay, and smiling and laughing. i don’t care if we talk about absolutely nothing, i just want to talk to you. i know that’s unfair to you after all ive weighed on you. but i guess that’s all, i love you. draco ♡

well this certainly didn’t get him off her mind. she didn’t need to either. ofcourse she was going to write him back, but she needed time to think about her response. she missed the next day of school, and his owl was comfortably standing on her desk, nibbling away at the water and crumbs. she took an hour long shower, multiple naps, raided her fridge, and had to email the school pretending to be her mum, excusing her for the day. before she even knew what she was going to write, she began on a new piece of paper. she’d have thought longer, but was sure draco would be convinced she stole noctua out of anger.

draco,

wow. i don’t really know what to say. i knew you weren’t a killer, and i meant what i said about you deserving more chances. i will admit i was angry, and a bit confused. i sent that letter with high hopes. i don’t know what i was hoping for at the time, i was being incredibly selfish. but couldn’t help myself feel pained when you didn’t mention it in the next letter when you said harry hexed you. i know we can’t be together, especially not right now, but i love you too. i wish more than anything you were here with me right now, and it was you i’d be graduating with half a year from now. i wish you were in the passenger seat of my car while i drive through the city. i wish you could point out the constellations in the sky. i usually can’t read to many poems either, they get me thinking to much. im ready to write again if you are.

y/n

-

draco hadn’t felt more joy in a long time. around seven months. she loved him, and that was enough happiness for a life time. he just needed to stay alive.

they continued to stay in touch, almost as if they never stopped talking, entertaining eachother as much as possible, masking their separate misery and the distance between them. he could get time away from the reality that was his life for a while, he thought, until snatchers brought the trio he spent so long bickering with to the manor.

a very distorted looking harry fell before him, his hair tightly gripped by bellatrix.

‘well, is it him’ he knew it was harry. and yet a part of him couldn’t bring himself to letting the boy get killed.

‘i can’t be sure’ he lied

‘draco, look closely son’ lucius said loudly, getting a grip on the back of dracos neck before leaning in and whispering.

‘if we are the ones that hand potter to the dark lord, all will be f-forgiven. a-all will go back to how it was’

his father and the and a snatcher quickly got into an arguement. lucius was yelling something about the manor before narcissa calmed him with a hiss.

‘don’t be shy, sweetie come here take a closer look’

draco was know level with him. the scar was still visible on his forehead, and swollen eyes staring back at him, hopeless.

‘what’s wrong with his face’ draco said

‘yes what is wrong with the boys face’ a shrill voice repeated

‘he was like that when we got him, something he picked up in the forest i reckon’

bellatrix walked away, laughing away at something. the blonde boys eyes were still on harry, before he felt a tap on his shoulder. bellatrix began acting out, yelling about a sword, putting ropes around snatchers neck from the end of her wand. sword now in her hand she walked over to ronald weasley, grabbing his collar and demanding that the boys be put in the cellar.

a different draco would have gladly watched a mudblood be tortured by his aunt. but he flinched at every scream of hermione, unable to watch he went to the next room, resisting tears as he thought of the girl he fell for enduring the same. she had moved onto the goblin- ridiculing it about who got into her vault- and hermiones screams were now gone.

‘youre lucky, goblin, the same won’t go for this one’ he heard footsteps

‘like hell it wont’ he heard ron yell, followed by the expelliarmus and what must have been harry stupefying his father. draco rushed in, now dueling a more normal looking harry, until their attention caught on bellatrix, a knife to grangers throat. they dropped there wands, and he did as instructed, picking them up. lucius was summoning the dark lord when they heard a tittering on the ceiling, and the chandlier crashing. it all moved so fast and harry was now wrestling draco for his wand back. he tried, but harry had already pried it out of his cold and shaky hands.

‘STUPID ELF. THAT COULD HAVE KILLED ME’

‘dobby never meant to kill. dobby only meant to maim or seriously injure’ the house elf squeaked, and draco had never resisted a chuckle so hard.

‘HOW DARE YOU TAKE A WITCHES WAND. HOW DARE YOU DEFY YOUR MASTERS’

‘dobby has no master, dobby is a free elf, and he has come to save Harry Potter and his friends.’ and with that they apparated out, not without bella throwing a knife into the mix.

-

meanwhile, y/n was receiving letters of her own. not from draco either. letters from the schools she applied to. so far everything was good, except for princeton, but she didn’t have the highest expectations. she was accepted to the university of british columbia, seattle university, even ucla. she only had one letter left, and the large stuffed yellow envelope sat in her hands. she wasn’t sure about it- would she even be able to go to the univeristy of london? it was far, but draco was there, well closer to there atleast. accepted- it read. it was an option, and she still had weeks to think about it.

-

draco was very hesitant to write after the incident at the manor, the screams of Hermione, and the terrifying looking potter still vivid in his brain and nightmares. he often woke from sleep in a sweat, yet freezing cold. whispers of the war around his house also haunted his mind and soul. he’d walk to the window and look up at the the stars, they were under the same sky, at least. eventually he had to write her, it had been half a month and he couldn’t leave her hanging alone again.

y/n

love, im sorry for being hesitant, but there is going to be a war. i hate to leave you contact-less, but i need you to be safe now more than ever. i couldn’t live with myself if you got hurt. potter and his friends were brought here to the manor, it didn’t last long- they escaped within the hour and a half. with that doped elf, and a goblin too. if you don’t hear from me again, remember i love you. and always will.

draco

of all the letters y/n had recieved, from draco in all, that was probably the most displeasing. a war? like with tanks and bombs? tears were shedding down her face as she wrote the shortest response yet. knowing he most definitely didn’t have time to listen to her talk about schools, and how she got accepted to london, but her parents deemed it to far, ubc would have to do, she’d find her way to him eventually, if they were meant to be.

draco

stay safe, i love you.

yn.

-

draco now stood at snapes new office, dozens of corpses on the floor, pooled in blood. the dark lord speaking parsel tounge to nagini. no one needed to speak it to know that the man was infuriated about something potter had done.

-

the information he left was lacking, was he serious? what did wizarding wars even look like? her graduation date was set, June 6th, but it all seemed irrelevant, suddenly picking out a dress didn’t seem as fun as she thought, same with getting portraits taken. should she have said more?

-

next thing he knew the protection spell was countered and he apparated in, grabbing zabani and goyle by the collar. rushing them into a corridor and waited for the door of the room of requirement to completely vanish before approaching himself. they successfully found harry, opening a box carefully before finally drawing attention to themselves.

‘well well, what brings you here, potter’ draco said, softly, much to his surprise as he meant it to sound snarky and rude

‘i could ask you the same’

‘i believe you have something of mine, and id like it back’ was he becoming… kind?

‘whats wrong with the one you have?’ harry replied

‘it’s my mothers, powerful but different, doesn’t fully understand me, im sure you know the feeling’

‘why didn’t you tell her. bellatrix? you knew it was me, and you didn’t tell her’ he wasn’t exactly sure what to say, nor did he know. harry really didn’t have anything to do with his feelings for y/n, maybe he should have just turned in him when he had the chance, it would all be over if he had.

‘don’t be a wuss draco, just do it now’ goyle whispered in his ear, making him chill the same way bellatrix did on the astronomy tower, almost a year ago.

‘expelliarmus’ hermione half shouted, causing narcissas want to fly out of dracos hands and run the other way.

‘avada kedavra’ goyle missed and weaslebee started chasing after them, yelling something about his girlfriend. turning back around after goyle unsuccessfully casted the fiendfyre curse.

fear was making his body almost rattle as he desperately climbed bookcases in an attemp to outrun the flames. he watched goyle fall, into the orange. yes, he was a complete and utter twat, but wasn’t a half bad friend during dracos bullying peek. his foot slipped, now just his hands were keeping him up, and he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold on. in the distance he saw the three, zooming off to safety in the distance, leaving them their to die. not that he blamed them, after anything he did to them, he would have probably left himself there aswell.

but potter was flying towards him, arm out-stretched, grabbing onto his own and hoisting himself on the broom. had he already died? must not have, because the heat had finally caughten up. feeling as though he was going to pass out, he gripped tighter onto harry, maintaining his position on the broom. so much for staying safe. the second they made it out, they crashed onto the ground. he wanted to thank harry, but found himself running off instead.

explosions and hexes were being sent everywhere. people dying left and right. giants and trolls and spiders helping, he found himself in the slytherin common room. partially because he wanted to say goodbye, as he never wished to return to the building again once he had the choice. and partially as he was now aware of a large burn on his arm, and he felt a need to put off fighting until absolutely necessary. he entered through the portrait, for the last time. it felt like an aquarium, looking out upon the lake filled windows, merpeople and the giant squid often zooming by. he sat down upon the sofa, where he spent countless hours avoiding homework, plotting against potter and swimming in lust of his pure-blood status that now felt like a curse. he went up to his dorm, where he did very similar things. he wondered as to what he would be doing if he was a muggle right now. picking out a suit for graduation, buying a corsage for his date, but he wasn’t, so he best get going. running his hands along the furniture before leaving, not looking back.

the noise in the entrance courtyard had completely been diminished and draco found his way into the crowd of students pooling in. death eaters swarmed towards them at a painfully slow place, his mother and father near the head of the group. he noticed hagrid, towering above them, carrying what could only have been harrys corpse.

he watched carefully as they approached, trying to wedge himself inbetween and behind other students.

‘harry potter is dead’ voldemort paused ‘from now on, you put your faith in me’ silence fell over the hundreds of people who were know gathered. he swished his robes and turned backwards facing his followers

‘HARRY POTTER IS DEAD’ obnoxious and deafening cackles erupted

‘and now is the time to declare yourselves. come to our side, or die’ even more silence fell.

‘draco’ his father hissed before repeating ‘draco’

he felt eyes fall all over him, gazing expectantly. tears ran down his face.

don’t talk like that, saying you don’t have a future. you do draco, you deserve another chance and infinite amounts of them. was this what she meant? he’d been looking for another chance, maybe this was it.

he shook his head no, and noticed his father had fallen a shade of pale he didn’t know existed.

‘Draco, DRACO’ he yelled, clearly enranged, but before he could continue - a movement shifted in hagrids arms, and harry fell out. in a heartbeat draco threw his wand to the scar faced boy. he caught it, looking grateful as he could while casting some sort of spell at nagini. death eaters were disappearing into the air- including lucius, narcissa being dragged with him.

draco didn’t know what to do with himself, he was wandless and he couldn’t fight, unless he wanted to engage in an actual physical duel, which he didn’t. he found himself in the great hall, asking professor sprout if she needed help patching those up, she pulled him into a hug, unexpectantly. he never recalled such contact or connection with a professor. he spent the rest of the battle helping healing wounds with dittany, and caring for those left in the wake. it was a nice distraction from the fact he would most definitely be disowned, left a family-less orphan at 17.

-

y/n couldn’t blame him for not writing, he clearly stated that it might be the last time. but every night she cried until she couldn’t cry anymore, or until she fell asleep. how could she like him so much? they’d never even met. she didnt really need to see him to know him, his letters told him enough about him. and she could only hope- that if he managed through his six year without killing his headmaster, he could make it through the war.

-

he delayed going back to the manor for as long as possible, until he decided to apparate directly into his room. he considered packing his things up, but realized no one was home. he was thankful, he don’t think he would ever be able to fully confront his parents again. he fell asleep in his bed, and slept for 48 hours straight. he slept through very vivid dreams, ones of y/n being tortured the same way as Hermione, ones of the dark lord coming alive once again and killing his mother because of his choices. he couldn’t bring himself to sleep again purposefully, no matter how exhausted he was. the days weren’t much better, his mind raced at unbelievable paces. he saw the dead bodies laying around the great hall, the unrecoverable ones. maybe he should have just fallen into the fire, surely that would have been easier. he was slowly becoming thinner, and always needed multiple blankets to even stay at a somewhat warm temperature, his heart beat faster than normal. he often felt pains in his neck, and his eyes were almost always puffy from crying. he spent so much time in bed he almost didn’t hear his owl flutter onto his nightstand mid afternoon, a small package tied loosely around his neck.

he opened it to see a letter, muggle candies and a worn book. suddenly he felt more awake, and be shot up a little to fast then he should have, sitting on the edge of his bed.

draco.

i don’t know where you are, or if youre alive, if youre reading this now. i hope this doesn’t arrive at a bad time. but your 18 now, so happy birthday. if you are seeing this, i still love you. i think about you all the time. i hope you are okay, and safe. in case you don’t end up writing me back, i just thought I’d give you some random information to keep you company and away from your mind. i graduate tomorrow. i look at your picture everyday. I remember what you once told me about following my dreams, so instead of medicine, im going to study literature and business next year. im staying in kelowna aswell for now, hoping maybe you’ll be able to visit someday. im sure you’d like it. my favourite colour is still green. i don’t know what else to say.

always here to listen if you’d like to talk. yn.

was it actually his birthday? had it already been a month since the war? it felt like a year but the visions played over and over like it was yesterday. it took him awhile before it clicked. the war was over, Voldemort was dead and there was no one to stop him from seeing her. he completely disregarded the lightheaded feeling he got when he stood up to fast- and rushed to his wardrobe. it took him a bit longer than he thought to pack up all his clothes, including the thousands of letters he kept hidden in a large drawer. the trunk was a bit heavier than he may have thought, and he ended up needing to take a car, in fear that he may not be able to apparate successfully to the airport without injuring himself. he quickly found out that muggle travelling was harder than he thought, and security and customs were also apparently a thing that all people needed to get through.

he wrapped himself in his cloak and didn’t get a drop of sleep the whole plane ride. it was nighttime when they flew over montreal, and then toronto. the sun rose as they crossed through winnipeg, regina, and calgary. he didn’t know this himself ofcourse, but he aggressively hit the map on the screen in front of him, desperate to know where he was. he only got an hour of half decent sleep before he felt rattling of the plane landing, and he gripped tightly onto the arm rests. he struggled for half an hour before he even got sight of his luggage on the moving thing that went round and round. compared to London, kelownas airport was very small and easy to navigate. the air outside was hot, making draco feel even more self concious about his clothing choices.

-

y/n put her hair back into a twist with a clip taking a suprising amount of effort to make sure it looked okay. her makeup was natural looking, nothing crazy but she looked gorgeous none the less. she slipped into her black romper, some canadians didn’t wear their fancy dresses to convocation, only something simple to go with the cap and gown. she arrived at the ceremony, seeing everyone, with excited smiles and laughs, conversing amongst themselves. and every memory came rushing back. they sat in rows on a stage, listening to the heartfelt and extremely cheesy speech the staff made every single year. she’d never noticed how many kids were in her age group until they were being called up one by one.

‘alex can’

‘ruth lee’

and the list went on and on until finally

‘y/n l/n’ the moment had come, and she shook everyone’s hand, receiving her diploma and flipping her caps tassel to the left. ‘y/n is staying around next year, and attending the university of british columbia okanogan, good luck l/n’ her principal said and claps continued like they had and the rest of the list finished sooner, or seemed to go by faster, she wasn’t sure. 

-

draco had never had to find a taxi by himself, but once he did he gave the driver the only place he knew, the address he saw on the top corner of her first response almost two years ago.

-

y/n pulled away from the school grounds, watching them disappear in her rear view mirror. it was hot with a breeze, but she smiled the whole way home. she’d done it, made it through every assignment and class, dealt with attention hungry bitches, and crappy teachers. the next door was truly opening. pulling up to her house, and closing her car door as she hopped out, she watched her feet carry her up to the house. turning the corner, she saw him, sitting there on her steps, a present wrapped horribly in his hands, looking very out of place in his black cloak. she stopped in her own steps and he hesitantly stood up, before she launched herself into his arms breathing in his cologne, finally together after all this time.

[namesmox]

The Lucky Batch ☘️

For context visit here

“Are you sure about this?” Turning to the togruta beside him, Skip nodded. He’s avoided this like the blue shadow virus, but he decided he needed to do this. Kenhla gave him a small smile. “Would you rather us stay on the ship or come with you?”. “Jackal, can you come with me? General, may you please stay on the ship and make sure the others are ok?” “Of course, Skip. If you need me, just comm in, ok?” Nodding, the clones exchanged brief goodbyes with their general and began walking towards the city. The natives immediately recognized their armor, and some ran over to say hello. Skip let Jackal do the talking. Being back here hurt enough. He didn’t need to have a breakdown in the middle of a street. The duo began their small trek towards the building that held the cursed memories, stopping right outside. It had been turned into a memorial, while most would have shrugged and gone on with their day, Skip froze. Jackal, noticing his brother’s distress and guilt, wrapped his flesh arm around him. “Hey, everything is ok. There’s no fighting going on here. Breathe with me.” Drawing a shaky breath, he stepped over the threshold and into the void of memories that plagued his dreams.

The last time he was in this room, the walls echo his screams of agony, the metallic smell of blood filled his nose, his eyes blurry as his vod dragged him from the lifeless body of the only friend he ever had. The back wall was now missing, allowing the sunlight to illuminate the sight before the two clones. An apparent grave was in the center of the room decorated with flowers and small trinkets. Skip turned to his brother. “May I have a moment alone, please?” The other nodded, exiting the room. “I’ll be outside if you need me.”. Turning back towards the grave, he kneeled and pulled a candle from his back pocket. His fingers brushed the hilt of the knife, and he couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. The knife was cold in his hand. The beskar blade reflected his broken face stained with tear tracks. Ripping his gaze from the knife, he dropped it to the ground and turned his attention to lighting the candle. Placing it at the foot of the grave, Skip closed his eyes, trying his hardest to take deep breaths. “Hey Jaylen. I’ve missed you.” If he concentrated hard enough, he could still hear him laughing and feel him wrap his arms around him in a tight embrace. Keeping his eyes closed, he continued, “How’s everything held up when I’ve been gone? Glad I’m here to spice things up. You never find life boring.” A smile slowly grew over his lips as he talked to the ghost of his fallen friend. He talked about the happy memories, laughing about the fond times they spent together. Frowning, at the sad memories. He gave his heart to Jaylens ghost, a friend, a brother.

Time meant nothing to Skip. He didn’t know how long he’d stayed there, and he didn’t care. By the time he opened his eyes, night had fallen over the city, and the tear stains had dried. He bent down, touching his forehead to the ground.

“Gar cuyir Ner vod. Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum bal im Ni ceta…”

You are my brother. I love you, and I’m sorry.

The walk back to the ship held a comfortable silence between Jackal and Skip. One was proud that his brother faced the root of his guilt and nightmares, and the latter was happy he made the closest thing to amends he could achieve. Before entering the ship they had yet to name, Jackal reached out, placing a hand on his brother’s back. “I’m proud of you. You know that, right? Sure it takes guts to shoot down droids in the sky but what you did was a different kind of bravery. I’ve never been more proud of you, little brother.” He continued onto the ship, allowing Skip to process what he said. ‘I might not ever fully heal, but I have my family, and that’s all I need.’

An empty room met Skip as he walked aboard, knowing Kenhla or Jackal had ushered everyone out so he could have space. Stepping inside the gunner’s nest, he was met with two things—a bowl of chocolate icing with chips and a card covered in stickers. Sitting down, he pulled the bowl into his lap and opened the card, and nearly cried all over again. Each of his brothers and the two padawans had written a small message saying they were there for him and how much they loved him.

Maybe, just maybe, he would be able to become whole once more...

@monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @just-another-dreamerr @lavenderstaars @the-lucky-batch @maygalodon

[mystilotls]

Tokyo Soul AU: Chapter one

Song: Cabinet Man

Tw: Implied gore, implied death, violence, shipping

This is for the peeps who don’t watch TS, these chapters are for the plot of this au.

also PLEASEEEEEEE send me asks ( @ask-mystis-aus ) im opening an “ask the characters event with drawn reactions so-

Enjoy, (no grammar check, we fail like men)

Long ago in a dimension where time doesn’t exist, where every up is a down, Where space is irrelevant, and when Cthulhu ruled with his army of demons, inflicting terror and darkness to all.

However, there was one soldier in the army that seemed more powerful than the rest.

This demon went by many names but to mere mortals, he was referred to as Necro. 

Necro could manipulate all, even the dead, Necro could summon anyone or anything at will, Necro possesses all knowledge of any dimension he sets foot in, and most importantly, it is dangerous to make a deal with him. For if you shake his hand, the consequences could be dire.

Demons found Necro’s powers to be too catastrophic and after a long war between them, Necro, and Cthulhu, the demons of the realms were victorious.  

Cthulhu was banished to R’lyeh where he built up the once fallen empire he had.

As for Necro?

Necro was trapped in a spellbook, and to add insult to injury, his prison was labeled as the “Necronomicon”. The Necronomicon was banished to a far void, where it was rare for anyone to even find it.

 Even when the Necronomicon was found, He is forced to share his wisdom of the dimensions he has traveled to and or harmed. He watches as wars break and mass genocide all from trying to obtain him.

 He loves watching but he vows, one day, someone will free him and he will return. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That’s the book we need!” a voice had exclaimed, it seemed to have belonged to a young man with an accent that is different from his colleagues 

Necro had gotten up from the corner he normally sat in, at first spending unbearable moments with nothing but dribbling fools constantly grabbing your cell and splattering blood of their former friends on you can get irritating, but since there was nobody to bother him, he often learned to meditate and ignore his surroundings.

Until now. 

However, these mortals seem like a change of pace for once. Necro crawled over to where the seeing eye is and looks out to see a bag of flesh grabbing his cover, he tries to remember what lifeform this was and had come to the conclusion that these were creatures from the Earth dimension. Necro never was able to take over this world but he heard stories that the smartest creatures...humans were just as if not more as primitive than the other idiots he had slaughtered like the sacks of meat they are.

These humans seemed like no exception.

Necro looked back and thought this was too easy, none of these fools know what the Necronomicon truly is.  All the easy to watch as they destroy themselves. Just a simple compliment or a simple suggestion and he already knows there is going to be delicious anarchy everywhere. 

Necro watched as he was being held by the obvious animal hybrid of a human and a long-eared rat humans call rabbits.  Necro could easily tell behind the dirty rabbit beanie this mortal calls a disguise.  

“It called the Necronomicon” “good eye, genius” Necro mumbled hearing the echo of the freak holding his book and wonders Since he looks like a freak in his dimension, would he be an easy pawn and not clash with his army.  He eventually got his attention drawn to the young man from before. 

“Oh no, no! No, I’m out” Necro watches from the seeing eye and grins wickedly. This human is smart enough to know his left from his right yet dumb enough to fall for all types of manipulation

He is perfect.

~ Necro groaned listening to them babble on about nothing that interests him. He then chuckled when his “friends” started to insult him. This is just too easy. He had been talking to the rabbit hybrid but his insults were to no avail. Meanwhile the blond, the rabbit had broken him so much that a simple insult or a compliment could make him all his. 

“As ugly as a wart too,” Necro said, loud enough for all of them to hear and he got the blond’s attention. Great, now to add gas to this unstable fire.  

He tries to hide his grin as the rabbit hands over the Necronomicon to the blond. This pawn seemed easier to control since the rabbit is too broken and too wrapped up in his own fantasies, it would just be a waste of time. 

  Necro was grabbed out of his thoughts when he was spat on by the blond. 

“Well that was a bit unnecessary” Necro mumbled

~

 “This is too boring and such a waste of time to try and get out of this damn book,” Necro thought as he just laid in the void. If only he had his actual body, then he could just watch as Cthulhu’s armies could mow down all these useless souls. Watching as they beg for mercy but then vaporate mid-sentence, at least then it would be a little fun. 

He got up and floated around in a sitting position. He thought it was time to try something different

“Take out the nurse. End him” Necro whispered in the blond’s ear. He saw the rabbit’s ears perk up and walk to the other young male.

“The Necronomicon wants us to kill Dr. Nurse, dude!” 

“And you want to listen to a TALKING BOOk” 

Necro sucked air through his teeth, he may not listen to him now but he soon will. He looked through the seeing eye and saw 

Cthulhu, in the body of some sort of walking creature that apparently lives in their water, all he knows is that this animal shouldn’t be walking on land.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian held the Necronomicon during his date with Silly. It was more of a peer pressure date (he liked Silly in a sisterly way) but he was confused. He thought he was with Taurtis.

 Taurtis comes to his bed every night for cuddles and Tuesdays are a day when they can be all alone, but was Taurtis just using him to relieve tension, just his constant play toy for him to use while he goes dating other girls? 

Taurtis keeps claiming that he is just taking the girl out for a date so she can help him “get his hair back” but the half-shaved head works for Taurtis. However, he is growing his hair back and that’s all that matters.  

Suddenly, this cursed book ripped him away from his thoughts. The Necronomicon had been whispering to Sam yet Grian was the one to have to listen. While Sam went to go get Jorje from Mr. Chupa, Grian looked and saw many shadows of arms grab for Grian’s. They wrapped around him before reaching for his face, cupping his cheek before grabbing for his throat.  His eyes went white as he gasped for air.

Grian screamed before tripping and falling to the floor, panting heavily. Silly had rushed to help him up. He looked at his hands to see the shadows gone and all of the students and Mr. Chupa stare at him in confusion. 

“Grian, are you oka-?” Silly’s gentle question of worry was interrupted when Grian got up and ran upstairs, Silly could see him with eyes of fear and worry. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Grian ran into a bathroom stall before slamming the door. He threw the Necronomicon and opened it to see the undecipherable font which is on every page. He growled before ripping the pages right out of the book, ignoring all the pained grunts from the disembodied voice. Using the sound of torn paper to encourage him. 

“Why do you do this, why do you put up with what you do. Cthulhu told me you wanted to go home, that’s not what you really want. I may be a book but I can read you like an open one. You just want respect, You just want to be loved, You want to be wan-”

“SHUT UP!” Grian screamed as he threw the damaged book on the floor, huffing as he glared into the seeing eye which he couldn’t tell if it winked or blinked. 

“I’m not just a book you know” Grian gasped as he heard a whisper right in his ear, nobody was behind him but he could feel a weight on his shoulders as if someone was trying to be comforting. It sent shivers through him as he shook it off. 

“I can give you respect, I can make people listen to you, I can help you get all the power you deserve” Grian pushed against the door. His eyes wide as he tries to get his bearings straight. This isn’t the weirdest thing by a longshot but something about this made him uneasy. He looked down to the seeing eye and saw red. 

“All you need to do is-”

SMASH

Grian stomped on the eye of the book and kept stepping on the cover. He heard a chuckle and soon laughter 

“Well, thats all I need, Thanks for the invite~”

A dark mass appeared from the seeing eye before it rushed into Grian’s lungs. He fell and hit his head on the bathroom floor, passing out.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Taurtis was starting to be concerned about Grian, he just stopped talking for the rest of the day, he wouldn’t even look at them or let go of the Necronomicon. Taurtis waited for Grian to come out of the bathroom so they could cuddle, he sleeps better on a bed than a mat but he feels more comfortable with another human next to him

Meanwhile, Grian looked at his hands before looking in the mirror, seeing his reflection gaining red pupils and sharp, dagger teeth

“Ah, It feels great to have a body again” Grian chuckled before hearing the bathroom door knock.

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

if i was in the 5th holy grail war as a master.... fuck no.

If I was in the 5th holy grail war, I'd probably be screwed no matter who I summon.

I have daydreamed about this for years. I think all the servants have a possibility to get along really well with many different types of masters; and great teamwork can overcome any sorts of issues.

However, this post is made by me, solely for me. So in this case, all information amassed in this post only applies to me! :)

reasons why i'd be screwed:

- Seiba requires shitload of mana and you have to cook your entire house stock to feed her. Also it a lil bit hard to get to know Seiba which i understand, as she has the decorum of a king. One must treat her with the respect and honor that she deserves. She's an absolute powerhouse so she deserves a powerhouse for a master as well in my opinion!! I think that I would struggle to bond with her because I'd be very worried about overstepping my boundaries, and that I would not be able to sustain her either. So that's a not very good match at all.

- Gilgamesh would just fucking kill me if he loses interest or sees my actions as a betrayal. No thanks dude- I want a friendship! Anyway he'd obliterate me, once growing bored. He is a weapon of mass destruction and a really interesting guy- but the price of being able to witness his sexy golden ass is way too high a risk to take. At some point he'll probably make me feel an urge to snap at him (im not good with gilgamesh types because of how dominant he is).

I love his character but definitely would not get along with him, and that's the truth of the matter. I wouldn't be able to hold my tongue around him when he insults me, and that could lead to my imminent demise.

- Archer seems to work better with certain types of people than others and can be very tough to get to know- despite being a great co-worker. This could cause major issues down the line because some sort of 'bond' is necessary to develop in order to get along well enough with him. And plot points mean that he could go renegade for the sake of his own "wish". But he can cook though, and can be very helpful even if he is snarky sometimes. Oh my god...cooking free food! I personally love Archer's salty ass, and adore how he is still such a helpful character despite being so jaded due to the destruction of his dreams. However, I have no clue if I'd get along with him well enough to survive the grail war.

ALSO I SWEAR ARCHER IS LIKE ONLY SUMMONABLE CUZ OF CERTAIN PLOT POINTS-

OH WHO GIVES A SHIT!!! ARCHER DOESNT NEED PLOT TO BE SUMMONED IN MY DAYDREAMS!!!

- Lancer is ok, especially with the efficient noble phantasm, and easygoing personality. However I think he works very well with a strong strategist mage. Like a "I take front u take back"/ "you scratch my back, I'll scratch yours" kinda fighting tag team....err id run away from the frontlines. Not a good match for warrior reasons. XDD He's pretty alright to talk to and overall quite amicable- though however if he thinks the master isn't covering bases well enough he will cover for their gaps by himself; which is helpful yet a little awkward in terms of teamwork. But he definitely is an underdog seeing how well he lasts even when Kirei wasn't even looking after him properly.

I am not sure if I'd get along well enough with the guy, a lot of my ideals may clash with his because I am extremely different to him personality-wise. (opposites tbh) Also I adore him greatly but nah, I just cannot see it.

- Rider... I love her but I am not sure. Look at her with Shinji. i dont even wanna fucking think about that

She does her best with a mage who she has the desire to protect, and a mage who at LEAST can provide enough for her so that she's not harvesting all the souls in Fuyuki and sucking blood to survive. err dat not me XDD However she is a great ally if you can get along with her or at least form some sort of agreement. SHE NEED STRONG MANA MASTER!!!! Also, her master needs to be somebody she feels an affinity towards. If not, Medusa can slip to the other side. The main thing that kept Medusa all together (even when dealing with shinji) was legitimately her desire to do right by Sakura. So, although she's a wonderful character I feel like I'd only know how it'd be if it actually happened XD

- Caster. I like Caster a lot but it seems that she just runs the show! We would have too many disagreements, she may transform me into a magic tool (oh god no) I think its also very hard to tell whether Caster will get along or not. What made Souichirou special were the circumstances and how they came to an agreement on how to work together. They formed a great deal as a pairing, and thanks to their personalities meshing well together; things worked out between them. However her abilities as a magus are astounding and stellar and her battle plans are incredibly well thought out. She is one to watch out for.

I think I would not be the best of masters for Medea because although I respect her and am aware that she is not all bad, some of her strategies are too ruthless and deadly for my liking.

- Berserker is too berserk for me...i don't want to perish by his hands or feet for that matter. Bitch he'd just STOMP STOMP my ass!!! NO THANK YOU! I'd be dead in seconds if I'm with him.

- However, ASSASSIN(s) are perfect for people with low mana, can be great friends and can get the job done if you make great strategies with them-however they can easily lose out to the big ass op shit of some of the other participants. Hassan is very amicable and helpful, however he was summoned under very unusual circumstances and only regained a full personality in Heaven's Feel after attacking two other servants. As for Kojibro.... I have no clue how that would work but hot damn he is also an incredible underdog.

- No, Avenger would just be a massive mindfuck id be too traumatized we are a very very VERY bad match. dude makes me shit my pants sometimes, however i do think he's a brilliant character. but i swear he'd just kill me- like splinter me- with his hatred beasts, all whilst pointing out truths that make me feel despair.

AKA HE WOULD BE ABLE TO GET SO EASILY UNDER MY SKIN!

Also Bazett made excellent use of him due to her great stratagems. I don't possess that skill, so as a pair we'd be extremely weak.

Conclusion: If I wrote a fate series HGW fanfic with me in it, it'd definitely become a crackfic or a tragedy. OR BOTH.

[tt205]

You have a crush on WANG?![1/?]

WANG YIBO × READER HAPPY POTTER AU!

Request: could you do Yibo x You au? The houses don't matter , something cliche like "yibo cool guy and sweet girl " where yibo realizes he really likes her , something like that . [ I dont have your permission to put your name here but if you want me to I will upload your name in another post for the credits ]

WARNINGS: none just my bad English and maybe a kiss or two nothing too much .. pretty fluffy pretty cute ~ somewhat relatable I could say

Classmates to lovers

It was your 6th year in Hogwarts when you first started realizing your feelings for Wang Yibo , a young witcher from Slytherin.

You always did think of him as someone cute and lovable , but his somehow frigid image made you keep your feelings low for him .

You shared a couple of classes together and even thought he'd never talked to you , apart from greeting you , you had a familiarity among each other.

Two weeks have passed since the day you first threw your eyes on him in a different way & now you can't take him out of your mind.

Staring at his handsome face made your heart skipping a beat .

You rested your head on your right hand looking towards him without shame . "Ahh" you sighed making Hermione shake you out of your lovey-dovey dreamland

" What on the bloody hell are you doing y/n? Stop staring on Wang and pay attention to the lesson !" She half whispered half yelled to you making professor Snape glare at you two .

You bowed your head apologizing as you straightened in your seat, gaining your composure.

------------->

Soon enough the bell rang and the next second you where out of the boring classroom.

Looking down to your things you realized you left your book back

"Stay here for a moment Mione I'm heading back in , I'll be quick " you told her before increasing your pace through the hallways.

Not paying attention to your surroundings you entered the door only to come in contact with a strong torso.

You looked upwords to the person in front of you only to meet with the eyes of your heart shaker Wang Yibo.

"Are you ok ? " he asked , lowering his head to your height

"I'm so sorry , I'll be careful next time" you bowed your head avoiding his eyes , your cheeks turning a deep shade of red as you made your way in grabbing your book and running your way out .

You rushed to the garden , meeting Hermione which was talking with Draco and Harry.

"You wont believe what happened!" You shouted to them , your breath unstable from all the running.

The three of them turned to you giving you a knowledgeable look while opening their 'circle' for you to enter .

You sat there hiding your head in your hands the embarrassing moment flashing in your head again and again .

"I bumped onto Wang Yibo" you said in a low tone regretting the moment you left your book in class

" What's the big deal with that Y/n ?" Harry asked concerned " he looks like a good guy " he continued.

"She has a crush on him you dumbo!" Hermione slapped him on the shoulder.

Draco's eye widened "you like WANG YIBO?" he screamed making Mione shut his mouth with a quick spell .

'Mmmmmm!' Draco complained but no one pitied him ... all of sudden you heard quick footsteps coming to your spot and turning around you saw Ron with a stuffed mouth full of candies and a bag full of them in one hand too.

"SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A CRUSH ON WANG Y/N" he asked , some syllables muffled in between .

"Where did you hear that Ron Weasley?" You asked panicking ,

"Em .. I guess the whole school knows is it now thanks to this screaming crackhead" he answered pointing to Draco .

" MALFOY IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS AND FEED YOU TO A DRAGON !" you shouted falling back to the floor not caring about how dusty your cloak will be after this .

----------------->

Days passed by with you skipping the classes you had with Yibo , too embarrassed to meet him now that half and more of the students number knew your feelings towards him .

Some of the Slytherin's members teased you about it at first but Draco was there to cut it short .. it was the least he could do as an apology .

You were so frustrated and sad you didn't have the energy to even go have breakfast , just attending some classes , studying and then straight to sleep .

Someone would say that this wasn't a big deal but having your parents working at the ministry of magic and his been death eaters , it wasn't ideal .. if your parents knew about your feelings towards him you were dead .

Today is Saturday < a good day to go have a butter beer > said Hermione.

You didn't want to go there too tired to even pick up your wand but they dragged you there .

And here you are sitting in one of the 'Three Brooms ' table with your stupid friends in each side of yours .

Half an hour has passed since you arrived here and the 5 of you have ate a bunch of things while chatting about the week that passed and other random information. You feel someone behind you and at the same time Draco sits up to greet him .

"Hey Wang what's up?" He asks and your blood freezes. You grab Hermione's hand under the table and she gives you a reassuring smile , motioning for you to greed him and that's what you do .

Yibo shakes your hand before hugging you slightly "may I have a brief moment with you y/n?" He whispers in your ear and he is close , the smell of his cologne feeling your lungs making you lightheaded along with a sweet smile he gives you .

You nod your head moving off your seat and smoothing your clothes on the go , breath stuck in your throat.

He moves a hand behind your lower back moving you in the hallway that leads in the toilets. "I -i " he begins but cuts himself in between something bothering him "Would you like ehm- would you like to go on a date with me ?"

He asks his voice cracking a little in the middle of the sentence, ears blushing a bit as he moves a hand on the back of his neck rubbing the area from the tension .

Your eyes widen first but you are quick to hide your surprise with a brief " yes " as an answer taking him by surprise too "really?" He asks and you repeat your words only to be awarded by another smile of his .

------------->

Almost a week passed since then and today came along with a date that you could only dream of .

You can't even believe that you are sitting in front of him , eyes filled with joy and excitement, the rustic decor of Madam Puddifoot's cafe adding to the romance overwhelmed moment .

He is holding your hand and your heart can't stop skipping beats at the sight of him .

You know it's wrong to be with him but still you like him .

Laughter and smiles is filling your time together but both of you know you have to return back in Hogwarts.

You will have to take the last carriage to return back and you dont have much time .

He opens the door for you and you step out of the small shop leaving back its warmth .

Cold air hits your face the next second and you close your eyes sifting more in your long thick coat moving your hands in your pockets in an attempt to keep them warm .

The sky is paint in the darkest shade of blue signaling that you must hurry up .

You reach for Yibo but he is quicker moving his arms around your shoulders keeping you close .

A soft kiss on top of your head is all it takes to move the negative thoughts off your head , walking through the snow covered streets of Hogsmaede.

---------->

The way back seems long as your eyes feel heavier leaning onto Yibo's shoulder.

The carriage's interior is cold , the snow outside making the perfect fairytale scene.

You feel Yibo's hand touching yours an taking it in his grasp.

You feel his eyes on you and you look up meeting them , the look peaceful.

He suddenly leans closer and your lips momentarily touch .

You kiss back moving your body closer to his , he moves a hand behind your neck keeping you still and the whole room seems spinning as the temperature rises .

Both of your eyes are closed , lips occupied but you feel like talking through the kiss .

After a good moment you both pull back regaining your breaths and both of you are starring in each others eyes again.

"I know that this is rushed to ask and may seem childish but , will you be my girlfriend? " he begins and you blush hard " I've been thinking about asking you out months ago but j was afraid of been rejected.. knowing that you have feelings for me -thanks to Draco- was the thing that motivated me . If you think I'm rush--"

" I do ! I do wanna be your girlfriend" you rushed it out in one breath giggling in the end.

"if you regret something I can wait I promise!" He continues getting shy after a moment or so ..

"Dont make me take my words back !" You whisper in his ear , only to be drugged in a tight hug .

" I can't say I love you yet cause it's really rushed and both of us know it , but what I can say for sure is that I've never liked someone more like you y/n ... give me some time and I'll love you the same way " he adds kissing your hand and looking at you with those piercing eyes of his that can melt the coldest heart , and can tame the most untamed soul ~~~

[ofgoodmenarchive]

The second in a series of drabbles exploring my Blood Mage!Dorian.

Spring Thaw

Perhaps he was getting ahead of himself.

No- he was definitely getting ahead of himself.

At the very least, Dorian shouldn't have discarded the Venatori's equipment so impulsively. It was possible- even likely- the Herald would be immune to his charms. If no attraction existed between them to start with, then he'd forsaken his current, sole employment for nothing.

Introducing himself was also a complex matter. His subject of fixation was more often than not swarmed by Chantry puppets- Inquisition puppets, whatever.

Either way, they'd be wary of something like him.

  Which would be perfectly sensible, if we're being honest...

For days he stalked them through the Hinterlands, camping out of sight- preferably at high vantage points. On this occasion he'd discovered a homely cave dug into a cliff, with an ideal view of the Inquisition camp. They'd organised around a half-crumbled tower, wrangling full command of the King's Road at this end.

It took time to accomplish- Dorian had spectated most of the work. The Templar-Mage conflict was their main concern- by now almost completely eliminated. Still there was plenty of trouble to be had, Dorian knew.

  Are they even aware of the Venatori yet?

Indeed for now they mostly focused on the resident lyrium-smugglers. To be fair, they were a nuisance- and had not enough sense to leave the Inquisition unmolested.

In his shadowing he concluded a few things, at least.

For one, the Herald was a mage with an affinity for ice. Admittedly Dorian felt stupid for not realising on their first encounter. That sword of light channelled the man's will, swaying him towards close combat. Odd for a mage- so Dorian didn't berate himself much for failing to notice.

Secondly, the man was Spirit-bound. To what sort of spirit and for what purpose, Dorian couldn't guess. He'd only concluded this due to a chance look at his weapon- a summoning circle was inscribed into the hilt. An insanely reckless thing to attempt- unless your will and the spirit's could work in perfect unison.

  We have something in common, at least!

Though Dorian was positive none regarded him as an Abomination.

Lastly, the Herald was unaccustomed to such close work with humans. Dorian rarely overheard conversation but frequently witnessed him seeming lost, needing elaboration on what appeared self-evident.

Overall he was somewhat peculiar, even for an elf.

  “You know...” Dorian mused while building a small fire for the night. “I'm already feeling chipper. It's probably a trick of the mind, since there's potential for a meal...but wouldn't it be funny if my desire was feeding into itself?”

An unamused grumble responded and he frowned at his shadow- slumped morosely against the cave entrance, like a wrung out towel.

  “Yes, yes, I know that's not how it works.” Dorian rebuffed, scowling. “I'm just saying I don't mind all this creeping around! Or I don't mind it yet...give it a while, I suppose...”

  The Herald of Andraste...

  …probably also does not speak to himself.

  “Well I'm not speaking to myself, am I?!” He countered, huffing. “I'm speaking to you!- And you're being especially bratty today!”

Desire slouched down the cliff-wall until it was almost flat.

Dorian spluttered with laughter.

  “You're like a cat, you know!? An ominous, perverted cat.”

The creature bubbled sadly, giving no answer.

Rolling his eyes, Dorian would have returned to working on the fire- except Desire's head emerged from it's puddle, leering down the slope.

  “Hrm...?” He followed it's gaze, squinting. “Something happening down there...?”

A tall figure wandering from camp, accompanied by a much shorter one- the Herald and his dwarf ally.

  “Where are they wandering off to on their own...?” He frowned at his shadow. “Should they really be doing that?”

Desire shrugged, shoulders casting ripples along it's spooled form.

  “For some reason...” Dorian swiped his staff from nearby. “I don't like it. Let's make sure nothing bothers them, yes?”

Maker forbid the elf get himself killed- it would be a waste of his whole week!

The pair strode upon the King's Road, moonlight leading their path and their path leading Dorian- always close behind but not too close. Eventually they paused at a road-marker, muttered between themselves and appeared to wait.

  Are they missing one of their people, or something..?

Regardless of the situation, whatever was meant to occur, didn't. Exchanging anxious stares, the duo walked further along, ignorant to Dorian's presence as he slunk from shadow to shadow.

Within minutes all heard the same thuggish shouting- accented in Ferelden, somewhere amidst an outcrop of limestone. Sprinting forward, the Herald and his companion hunched behind cover, in frantic discussion.

Wanting a full perspective, Dorian climbed ledges as stealthily as possible. Once he had an ideal view, he sat and assessed.

Lyrium-smugglers again, of course. Carta, perhaps? No one Dorian had ties with, whoever they were. More than a dozen- with enough heavies in their ranks to pose serious threat to a miniscule party.

A party of two, for example, would likely be obliterated.

Dorian could see why there was discourse between the Herald and his friend. An Inquisition scout knelt among the group, bleeding and mid-interrogation.

  So they did lose someone...

Now the Herald wished to attempt rescue and his companion reasonably disagreed. Even out of earshot, Dorian could tell who was winning- through pure stubbornness alone.

Glancing behind, he spotted that looming, bratty shadow of his.

  “I hope you're ready to actually work for your meal.”

Not a second passed after his speech before all erupted into chaos. The Herald careened through the group, carried along paves of ice. Flailing and visibly irritated, the dwarf scrambled onto a high-point, where he could launch arrows from some elaborate crossbow.

Skidding from his perch, Dorian leapt into the fray.

Blood had already touched ground- that didn't bode well for anything near him. The grinning skull of his staff raised high, he willed every drop of lost life into himself. It swirled around him in crimson ribbons- he hadn't even channelled a form before people screamed.

  “MALEFICAR!”

Earning a wild, blood-crazed laugh from him as he barrelled forth, slicing enemies with their own pain- weaponised. Anyone struck deep enough and lacking proper resistance became crazed, attacking all in their proximity.

It had been a while since he'd stretched his abilities for combat- quite invigorating, really! Not to mention all the blood- a fair snack, though not his usual preference. Licking some from his fingers, Dorian launched into another attack and found himself brushing passed blizzard.

Swivelling to face it, he bore his teeth in a personable manner.

Winter-touched eyes regarded him quizzically, then vanished into battle.

Moments later and it was done- together with the scout, their enemy was reduced to a pile of corpses.

Inhaling, Dorian glimpsed the dwarf and recruit in breathless conversation. Elsewhere stood the Herald- sheathing his weapon, sighing with relief.

  Talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk-talk.

  Maker, stop it! Yes, I see.

This was the closest opportunity he was chance to get.

Awkwardly, uncharacteristically- Dorian hesitated.

  TALK-TALK-TALK-T

  I SAID STOP THAT! I'M GOING!

Mustering composure, he sauntered that direction, beaming.

  “Greetings, friend!”

The Herald blinked from wiping stained hands, eyes widening a second later.

  “...Who are you?” He mumbled, automatically hunching to Dorian's level- as he'd witnessed many times.

  “Me?”  He laughed airily- had to restrain more when the elf flinched. “My name is Dorian Pavus...and you would be the Herald of Andraste, no?”

Much hesitation from this so-called Herald- the poor man's eyes darted as if seeking attendance, white complexion reddening. Effortless traits for human eyes to see- and then there were aspects only Dorian would see. A quickened pulse, hitched breath, heightened temperature...

  Well, that answers that question...

  But...I really didn't intend to give the poor fool a heart-attack.

He hadn't even exercised his will in any fashion- just introduced himself! The Herald's clan must have been terribly isolationist, if that's all it took to fluster him.

  “That...is what they say...” He managed after a long pause, brow furrowing. “...Have you been following me, Dorian Pavus?”

  Oh, I like that.

  So formal.

  “Only for your own protection, my darling Herald!” He chuckled warmly, gestured to their fallen opponents. “As you can so clearly see.”

Another drawn out silence, pale features struggling to stay that way and failing- pink had spread to his neck.

  “You are from Tevinter.” He observed clumsily.

Dorian's head tilted.

  “Nothing gets passed you, does it?”

The Herald didn't seem to know how to respond, grasping air dumbly and again searching around for aid. Deciding to provide such aid, Dorian inquired;

  “Since I gave you my name- may I have yours?”

Though fidgeting, he offered;

  “Lavellan.”

  “That would be a last name, no?”

  “I do not tend to give my first.”

  “You don't 'tend to'...” He smiled, shamelessly familiar. “So you might make an exception?”

Something about this caught the elf off guard- absolutely flushed. He merely stared as though Dorian proposed he strip to his undergarments.

  “Uhh...hey, there.” The dwarf ambled to them before Lavellan could recover.

  “Ah, hello!” Determined to make a good impression, Dorian stuck out his hand. “Dorian Pavus! Pleased to make your acquaintance!”

The Dwarf relented to a light shake, inspecting him doubtfully.

  “Varric Tethras- pleased to make yours..” He knit his brow, glanced between the two men. “...I guess.”

All the while Lavellan was statuesque, face crimson and attention flying everywhere.

  “...You okay, Lord Heraldness?”

  “I...am fine- I am fine.” He practically squeaked. “I think...Cassandra will wish us back at camp...right now...im...immediately.”

Incapable of restraining himself, Dorian roared with mirth and hoped it didn't sound unkind.

  “We'll talk soon, my dear Herald.” He bid farewell with more obvious warmth. Lavellan swiftly fled- half-marching, half-scurrying, Varric at his heels.

-–

Dirt and blood raced beneath his feet. Evallan Lavellan fought to correct the hue of his face.

  “...Are you okay?” Varric- barely audible above the sound of his heartbeat.

  “I am fine!”  He snapped, shrill. “I just...was not prepared for...for that.”

Varric's expression scrunched inwards, perplexed.

  “Prepared for what?”

Speech died on Evallan's tongue, frowning helplessly at his companion. He barely had the words in his own language, how could he explain with the vocabulary they both shared?

All the human mages he'd encountered- they were so reserved, tame.

He couldn't imagine any human to carry themselves so shamelessly- draped in blood and bone, cackling and grinning through danger. Formidable yet exercising flawless control- so at ease in his nature.

And Mythal have mercy- Those eyes- deadly flares of red and gold.

  Absolutely wild.

  He must be mad.

  “...Oh, Maker's breath, Herald...” Evallan became aware he'd been glaring into space. “Don't worry- I won't tell anyone you took one look at the weirdo-'Vint-blood-mage and turned into a tomato.”

He flushed every shade of red imaginable, snapping-

  “I said I was not prepared!”

  “I wasn't prepared either!” Varric chortled. “And I do not look like you do right now!”

Groaning, Evallan sped his pace, wishing for nothing more than to hide in his tent and scream until humiliation subsided.

[daedriclorde]

Im so impressed with what you wrote for the ask i sent before, that I've come back for seconds 😅😂 take your time with this, no need to rush to write it. 8,11,20,30 sincerely, a new fangirl 😂

I AM SO SORRY IT TOOK THIS LONG

I split this into two different fics. The first is for Assassination and Meeting; the second is for Willpower and Temple. If you don’t know, Aerisif and Kjolti are the same person, just different names for different stages of my Dragonborn’s life!

Assassination; Meeting

The Bannered Mare had few patrons remaining at this hour. The large fire in the center of the hall burned perpetually, though only Rexus and a handful of others were gathered around it. Kjolti entered silently and unseen. The unrest that the appearance of a Dark Brotherhood assassin in Whiterun would cause could jeopardize her meeting. And what a meeting it shall be.

Moving within the rich shadows that flickered around the tavern, Kjolti slid next to Rexus, and almost imperceptibly, coughed. Rexus nearly jumped out of his skin and turned to look at the assassin, who gaped at her.

“Well I’ll be damned. We heard you were dead! Motierre’s in the back room, if you’ve got business.” Kjolti said nothing, but nodded and returned to the shadows. She slunk across the tavern to the room she had been in once before. The doors were easy enough to open and close in equal silence. Motierre sat in the dark, only a small candle by the bed illuminating the room. He had not even noticed Kjolti enter, such was her skill at stealth. She stood, choosing to be seen.

“Ah! You’re back!” Motierre exclaimed with equal parts joy and terror.

“Titus Mede II lies dead.” Kjolti’s voice was solemn and low.

“I know! I know! I received the news not moments ago! Ha HA! This is glorious! My friend, you may not realize it, but you have served the Empire, indeed, all of Tamriel, in ways you cannot possibly imagine.” Greed had replaced terror in Motierre’s visage. Kjolti did not like that.

“Ah, but you care little for politics, am I right? You want money! And money you shall have!” Motierre’s face was twisted with cruelty. “Your payment waits for you at a dead drop. It is inside an urn, in the very chamber where we first met, in Volunruud. Now please, go. Collect your money, and let us never look upon one another again. Our business, thank the gods, is concluded.” There was clear disgust in his tone. 

How amusing, thought Kjolti. How much he despises me, my brethren, and yet, he is indebted to us. 

“Your payment awaits. And don’t worry, I’m not stupid enough to betray you.”

Kjolti spoke up once more, her voice soft and dark. “Actually, Motierre, there is one more thing.”

He appeared disgruntled. “And what might that be?”

“Just a favor…for an honorable man.” Hidden beneath her cowl, Kjolti grinned a sinister smile. 

“You assassins and your riddles. It really does get very annoying, you know. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

Kjolti politely inclined her head, already feeling the Blade of Woe itch for blood. She turned to the door and opened it, but slunk into the shadows and closed the doors again without leaving the room, but giving the impression she had. The assassin was too well suited for the shadows, too masterful a killer to be seen in the dim light of the small room. Motierre hummed happily to himself, no doubt already envisioning himself upon the Ruby Throne. 

What a fool.

Kjolti slipped unseen to Motierre’s flank. She withdrew the Blade of Woe from its sheath, poised it over Motierre’s neck, and whispered to him.

“Hail. Sithis.”

She relished the look of fear in his eyes as she opened his neck. 

Willpower; Temple; 

They had been completely blindsided by the attack. The road was dark, the moon providing little light. Foolishly, they had ignored the rumors. They knew it had been unwise to travel at night, but they had their wisdom stripped from them, drunk on mead and victory.

The heist had been a complete success; the mark had been absent from their home that evening. Brynjolf, always better with the lockpicks than Aerisif, had unlocked the door for them in a heartbeat. Aerisif had sunk into the shadows, as no one could the way she did, and slipped through the house without a sound.

The trunk did not disappoint. It was teeming with gold and precious gems, family heirlooms and rare books. It was an excellent haul.

And so they celebrated. They didn’t dare so much as look at each other until they were outside the city walls, but once they had left range of the guards, they exploded with giddy pride. 

But their celebrations were quickly dampened. A figure sprung on them from the darkness, eyes glowing red. Sinister necrotic magic emanated from their hands. The vampire rumors were indeed true.

Brynjolf unsheathed the sword he usually carried in a flash, and Aerisif’s daggers were drawn with equal speed. The vampire’s dark magic struck them both, draining them of their life force. Brynjolf charged the monster, and Aerisif’s daggers whirled. 

By bad luck, Aerisif had been closer to the vampire when it emerged from the trees. It bore down on her first, with magic and fang. It seemed not to notice the gashes Aerisif opened in its’ chest, but continued to lunge forward with disturbing speed. Aerisif lashed out with steel in her hands and her eyes, but her energy was draining. The vampire was upon her. 

Brynjolf watched with horror as it bit of her neck, its malevolent fangs breaking into her skin. He used this distraction to plunge his blade through the vampire’s chest, and watched with satisfaction as the monster crumbled. Aerisif slumped.

“Woah, woah, stay with me, lass,” he said as he grabbed her by the shoulders.

“That was…that was dumb of us,” Aerisif whispered. Her face was pale. “Do you have a cure disease potion? I think I sold my last one to Tonilia.”

“Aye, I’ve got one,” Brynjolf helped Aerisif to the ground so he could rummage through his pack. He grabbed the small glass vial and handed it to Aerisif.

She held up the bottle, squinting in the dim light. “This is just a minor healing potion, Brynjolf.”

He frowned. “No, it should be a cure disease potion. That’s what the man I stole it from was saying, at least.”

She shook her head. “It’s the wrong shade of red. Cure disease potions are darker, from the charred skeever hide.”

“Blast it,” Brynjolf cursed. He spat on the body of the vampire. “We have to get you to a temple, then.”

Aerisif was poorly hiding her fear. “But…we’re in the middle of nowhere, Brynjolf. It will be days until we get back to Riften. We don’t have…I don’t have a lot of time.”

“Then we’re going to have to be quick about it. Can you walk?”

Aerisif nodded faintly. Brynjolf extended a hand, which Aerisif took. She was grateful for the lack of moonlight, as it hid the flush that came to her cheeks from his touch.

The pair of thieves took off, much more cautiously this time. They moved at a slower pace, but hardly stopped. Long rests were out of the question; short naps were the better choice. 

The first day since her bite passed, and they hadn’t covered nearly enough ground. Mid afternoon on the second day, they came across a lone farm. The farmer was nowhere in sight. Aerisif was looking paler and frailer, though she would not admit it. 

“Stay here,” Brynjolf ordered.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Just stay here.”

“Answer me, or I’ll follow.”

“Gods, Aerisif. I’m going to steal a horse for us to ride. We have to keep moving, and we aren’t going to make it on foot.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No, lass. Normally I’d be grateful for your help, but, and no offense, right now your footfalls are as loud as a troll’s. Stay here.”

Aerisif opened her mouth to protest, but then closed it, to Brynjolf’s surprise. He had expected to have to go round and round with her.

“Fine. But don’t get caught.”

Brynjolf laughed as he walked away. “Get caught,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Like I would get caught.”

“Bastard is gonna get us both killed,” muttered Aerisif as Brynjolf walked away. But internally, against her better judgement, her heart fluttered.

With shocking ease, Brynjolf returned a few moments later with a gray mare who eyed them both with suspicion. She was munching on an apple, which Aerisif assumed Brynjolf stole to appease the mare.

“Up you go,” Brynjolf said as he lifted Aerisif into the saddle.

“What the—I can do it myself!” Aerisif argued weakly.

“No, you can’t. Let’s go.” He mounted the horse behind her and wrapped his arms around her. He was grateful she couldn’t see his cheeks turn a light rosy color. 

“What, no lewd comments? No off-color quips?”

Brynjolf grinned. “Why, if that was what you were waiting for, lass, you should have said so.” He chuckled and leaned forward, whispering in her ear. “Don’t worry lass, that’s just my sword hilt pressing into the small of your back.”

Aerisif laughed. “That’s the Brynjolf I know.” The laughter seemed to exhaust her. 

Brynjolf frowned. “Hold on tight. We’ve got to go.”

Now on horseback, the two made considerably better time. They rode nonstop through the rest of the day and night. The third day dawned, and still they were far from Riften. 

Aerisif’s condition was worsening. She wouldn’t admit to it, not even with her dying breath, which Brynjolf feared he would witness. As the sun grew hotter on the third day, Aerisif was squinting and covering her eyes. Hours later, she was leaning forward in the saddle, draped across the mare’s neck. 

“Stay with me, lass.” Brynjolf held the reins in one hand and wrapped the other around Aerisif’s waist. He was worried she would fall out of the saddle. 

Dusk fell, and Brynjolf was worried. Aerisif was barely awake, often hallucinating. 

“Maybe Mercer will be happy to have a vampire in the Guild,” she muttered sleepily. “I’ll be that much stronger at night.”

“I highly doubt that lass. Don’t worry. We’ll get you to the temple.”

Night fell. Aerisif was catatonic. Both were sore and tired from nearly a day and a half in the saddle. Brynjolf continued to push the mare, despite her indignation. Aerisif grew cold in Brynjolf’s arms. He had heard that those inflicted with the bite of a vampire died before undergoing their transformation. He urged the horse onward.

Finally, Riften came into sight. Brynjolf breathed a tense sigh of relief, but it was fragile. Without knowing exactly when she had been bitten, it was hard to tell how much time was left. The crescent moon was rising in the sky. Brynjolf dug his heels into the mare once more. The horse was foaming at the mouth from the exertion. 

Arriving at the gates, Brynjolf leaped off and gently pulled Aerisif from the saddle. She slumped into his arms, unresponsive. Swiftly, he scooped her up into his arms, relishing the feeling.

“Stay with me, lass. Don’t fade away. You’re too strong.”

Brynjolf ordered the guards to open the gates with such command they didn’t even try to shake him down. He moved as fast as he could, trying not to jostle Aerisif. The streets of Riften were empty at this hour. He knew he was almost out of time.

“Maramal!” He roared at the temple doors. “Dinya! Open up!” Not daring to release Aerisif from his arms, he used his foot to kick the door. “Let us in!”

Moments later, a sleepy eyed Dinya opened the door. “What do you want, Brynjolf? This better not be a ruse.” Suspicion filled her sleepy eyes.

“She’s been bitten by a vampire. Nearly three days past. Please, you have to help her.”

“Come in, come in,” the priestess ushered him inside. “Set her here,” Dinya instructed.

Brynjolf gently lay her down before the shrine. Aerisif’s eyes had started to gently glow. Dinya knelt before her, praying to Mara. Brynjolf heard her speak but did not listen to the words. His focus was on Aerisif. Dinya placed her hands on Aerisif brow, and prayed more. Brynjolf held his breath.

Divine magic swirled around Aerisif. The color returned to her skin, and the ominous glow vanished from her eyes. She blinked and sat up, confused.

“We made it?” she asked Brynjolf.

He grinned. “You’ve got too much willpower to fade away. You’re far too stubborn. You’re cured, lass.” He heaved a sigh of relief, ignoring the sparks shooting off in his chest. 

[psychobhyun]

E R O T I C  T H O U G H T S

Foreword: Joining a book club may seem boring. But you’re not really bored when there’s an eye candy named Park Chanyeol to look at every afternoon. Who knows what your relationship would grow into?

Warnings: university!au, size kink, phone sex, daddy kink, squirting, degradation, semi-public sex, breathplay, spitting

Genre: fluff, smut

On the first day of university, your eyes were fixated on a certain person standing all the way on the other side of the room. He was towering above everyone else, which is an interesting sight to see. He also had ruffled silver hair and a black hoodie on with a random band name written on the front. 

“He’s cute, you should talk to him,” your friend said with a playful nudge to your shoulder. You smirked at her. “When the time comes,” you replied. As much as you needed to pay attention to the first-day speech, you couldn’t take your eyes off of the tall guy. “When the time comes, you’ll be coming too,” she joked. 

You let out a heartful laugh that was loud enough to turn heads. Apparently loud enough to make the guy you’ve been eyeing on to look back at you. You jumped in your position and avoided his eyes, feeling so embarrassed your cheeks grew hot. “He’s laughing at you, idiot,” your friend pointed out. 

“Fuck, you serious?” you said with a nervous chuckle. Hiding your eyes behind your hand, you look at the silver-haired guy. The tiny eye contact you made with him caused you to squeak. You rolled your eyes when your friend poked you, telling you how adorable you looked all shy like this. 

After the speech ended, you made your way out of the big conference room. Since it was a tight squeeze, you couldn’t really see who was pushing you in every direction. God dammit these people, you thought. Being your height, you were barely noticeable in any crowd. Halfway through the entrance, you lost your friend. 

“She’s there,” a deep voice said from beside you. When you turned your head to the source, you realized it was the guy you have a tiny crush on. He must be a giant. You had to look up at him. You were barely the same height as his shoulder? If you looked straight ahead, you were as tall as his chest. 

“Y-yeah, thanks,” you mumbled quietly. Where the fuck did your voice go? This guy has done the bare minimum but he’s already messing your train of thought already. “See you around, cutie,” the stranger said to you one more time. You tripped over someone else’s shoe after he called you cutie. 

Two months went by quite fast. You had a few more friends, you enjoyed your classes, and the lecturers were mostly nice (Maybe because it was only the first semester. They’d reveal their true colors soon enough). The only thing you haven’t done yet is joining a club. 

Your best friend joined a swimming club and as much as you loved being wet (get it?), you sucked at swimming. There is one activity you very much enjoy though. And it was reading. So you thought it was fitting to join a book club. There, you could share what you read or discuss a book with the other members. 

It’ll be fun. Totally fun.

And it was. The first thing you saw when you stepped in the room was the silver-haired guy. But his hair wasn’t silver anymore. It was red now. You didn’t even realize he was waving at you, patting the seat beside him. He seemed giddy to see you. You couldn’t hide the smile on your face. 

“Park Chanyeol,” he said as he offered you his hand. You took it and winced when you realized it was humid. “S-sorry, I’m nervous around cute girls.” You rolled your eyes and inhaled nervously. You introduced yourself and looked away because you were feeling shy yourself. You sat on the empty seat he gave you and focused on the person talking in the circle in front of you. 

The guy introduced himself as Kim Junmyeon, the one that started the club. He was two years ahead of you. He continues telling the new members how the club came to be, which bored the hell out of you. You glance at Chanyeol and saw him typing something on his phone.

What do I need to do to get your number, cutie it said. You held in a tiny giggle and take Chanyeol’s phone out of his hands. Tell the Junmyeon guy you need to fart outside, you typed underneath his message. He shot you a dirty look and stand up, doing exactly what you told him to do. 

You bite your lip as Chanyeol bows down and excused himself to fart outside to Junmyeon. You laugh at the way he runs outside. His flaming red hair bobs up and down as he scurried away. Reminds you of flaming hot Cheetos. You shake your head in disbelief when he sits down beside you again, a dumb look plastered on his face. 

He unlocks his phone and hands you the device. You typed your number in his contacts list and wrote it as ‘cutie’ with a heart emoji beside it. You winked at him cheekily as you give him his phone back. You can see him doing a fist pump when you really gave him your phone number.

A couple of weeks later, you grew closer to Chanyeol. You texted with him almost every night and seeing the good night and good morning messages from him always warmed you up. It never fails to bring a smile to your face and you never forget to tell Chanyeol about it. 

However, not all of your texts with him are innocent. Sometimes he’d ask you what you’re wearing. Then he got bolder. He asked you if you’d ever let him kiss you, even though he knew the answer. A million times yes. The only time it got a bit more intimate was when you sent him a pic of your outfit before you went clubbing with your friends. 

Chanyeol hated the fact that he couldn’t protect you. He didn’t want anyone else’s hands touching you, cause he’d punch whoever tried to. But he couldn’t do anything about it. And it frustrated him a lot. 

You surprised him when you sent him a racy pic of yourself in the club’s toilet. You flaunted your obvious cleavage, bending over a bit to tease him. It sent blood straight to his dick. He palmed his growing bulge through his sweatpants and imagined his hands were yours instead. 

You called him later that night, still drunk, but sober enough to realize all the naughty stuff you’re saying to him. “I’m so wet right now,” you say with a deep sigh. You rubbed your clit slowly, enjoying the light touches of your hand. “You are? Who made you wet, cutie?” 

You gasped when you dipped a single finger into your pussy, your wetness immediately coating it. “You, Daddy,” you replied. Chanyeol tried not to react to what you called him. But it sent his ego through the roof. “But Daddy didn’t do anything, baby? How are you wet?”

You whined as you started to finger fuck yourself. “I grinded against a guy and imagined it was you, Daddy. I thought about taking your cock in front of everyone in the club,” you managed to say even though you were breathless. You put the phone on loudspeaker and played with your nipples, twisting and pulling with two of your fingers still deep inside you. 

“You want me to fuck you in public, baby?” Chanyeol rasps to the phone. “But you’re mine. I don’t like sharing what I own.” You moaned when Chanyeol said you were his. You loved the feeling of being owned by someone. It made your pussy clench in excitement. 

“Are you going to come, baby?” Chanyeol asks when he hears your moans getting higher in pitch. “Y-yeah, Daddy,” You purposely push your fingers against your g-spot while you rub your clit, trying to reach a euphoric orgasm with Chanyeol at the end of the line. 

“Come for Daddy, baby. You make me so proud,” Chanyeol says in his deep voice, encouraging an even harder orgasm for you. You loved the sound of his familiar voice. “Daddy!” You came with a scream, still rubbing circles on your clit as you squirt all over your mattress. 

“Let’s discuss the poet I assigned everyone to read,” Junmyeon says, standing in the middle of the circle again. He picked the person next to you to start, going anti-clockwise. Which means you’re going to be the last person to talk about your poem. And you chose one that was far from innocent. 

As the others talked about the poems they’ve read, your eyes focused on Chanyeol. He was wearing a fitted black shirt. It made his muscles much more prominent than his usual outfit would. Your mouth watered at the sight of him, supporting his chin with his right hand as the other held his other thigh. He looks back at you, licking his lips slowly as you crossed your legs. Your skirt lifts up a bit, revealing more than what is decent skin. 

When it was Chanyeol’s turn, he stood up and cleared his throat. He looked at you for a bit, a teasing sparkle evident on his pupils. “The title of the poem I have chosen is Open Invitation,” he starts. “I’ll read it now, okay?” 

You have such a pretty mouth.

To feed it only with kisses

would be a wasted opportunity

Your jaw dropped. The whole time Chanyeol read his short poem, he was gazing deeply into your eyes. You didn’t even blink as he said each word. You were awestruck not only by the poem of his choice but also by the sincerity lingering in his voice. The depth of what the poem meant to him..... it made you quiver. 

“Any particular reason why you wanted to choose that one, Chanyeol?” Junmyeon asked with a slight blush on his cheeks. It made you giggle how easily affected Junmyeon is. You put your focus on Chanyeol back, waiting for his answer. “The piece had no bullshit. It was straightforward, like me. When I know what I want, I work hard until I get it.”

You quirk an eyebrow at Chanyeol’s reply to Junmyeon. He looked flustered, so he moved on to the next person as fast as he could. The time passes by quickly and it was your turn. You gulped as you prepared yourself. Yours was longer than Chanyeol, but it was not less erotic. In fact, it was the exact opposite. 

“Last but certainly not least,” Junmyeon says as his eyes lands on you. You shoot him a small smile and stand up, fixing the skirt that was only covering half of your thighs. Chanyeol squints at the thought of fucking you half-dressed. You give a lot for him to imagine, yet so little at the same time. 

“The title of the poem I have chosen is Bitter Sweet Love.” You notice the slight change in Chanyeol’s posture. It was a bit tenser than before. Maybe it’s because he knew what the poem was about. Which makes it easier for you to tease him. Use your voice and Chanyeol’s hard exterior would crack. It excited you. You wanted to see what Chanyeol would look like if he’s the one begging to touch you. 

To slap you, is to touch you.

Scream for mercy. Beg for more.

To bite you, is to kiss you.

Tied and tethered, on the floor.

To loath you, is to love you.

Pretty princess. Dirty whore. 

It was Junmyeon’s jaw’s turn to drop. You were known in the club for being an innocent angel. But Chanyeol knew you were far from that ever since you called him Daddy over the phone call a few nights ago. You bit the inside of your cheeks, scared yet anticipating the reaction from the others. Especially Chanyeol, your true target. 

“Any particular reason you wanted to-,” Junmyeon says but you immediately cut him off. You couldn’t handle it anymore. “I loved the sensuality of the poem. Like night and day, sex can be both dangerous, filled with primal desire, but sex can also be an intimate and full of warmth.” 

You were about to open your mouth to continue but Junmyeon took a glance at his watch and decided to dismiss today’s club a bit earlier. You huffed an annoyed sigh. You wanted to drive Chanyeol to the point of insanity. The intense sexual tension between the two of you was messing up your clear thoughts. 

“Make sure to lock the room,” Junmyeon says as he hands you the keys. Like he knows what’s about to happen once everyone leaves and the only people left are you and Chanyeol. The keychain’s chimes echoes in the now empty room. Chanyeol was still sitting on his chair and hasn’t moved an inch. 

“Chanyeol? Are you planning to stay the night?” You joked, sitting beside him. He ignores you. “Daddy?” You say this time. Chanyeol’s breath hitches. “Did you like the poem I read today?” Chanyeol side looks you. He balls his hands into fists. His self-control is close to nothing. 

“I read it and thought of you, Daddy.” Chanyeol fixes his eyes on you. He puts his thumb on your bottom lip, pulling it down before letting it snap back into its original place. You take it inside your mouth, sucking on it as if it was his cock. Chanyeol doesn’t break his gaze on you the whole time you do it. 

“Fuck me on this table, Daddy,” you said in a high-pitched voice, emphasizing the word Daddy. Chanyeol groans. He holds you by the throat and pushes all his belongings that were on the table. It falls down and makes loud noises, but the two of you could care less. You wanted him inside you and he wanted to be inside you. 

“Good girls beg to be fucked, dirty whore,” he barks. He presses on your throat a bit harder and your hands out of instinct held his arm. You could feel the protruding veins on his skin. Using his other hand, Chanyeol rips open the buttons on your shirt. He puts his unoccupied hand on your breast as soon as it was on display. 

“What were you thinking, slut? Did you get off thinking about Daddy fucking you tied up? Fucking that useless pussy of yours until you beg for mercy because of overstimulation? That’s what you want, isn’t? Pathetic slut. I am disappointed, you know? You talked about your lewd thoughts in front of everyone.”

You gasp and whine as you listened to all the nasty names Chanyeol calls you. He lets go of your neck and pushes your skirt up, hands already hitting your ass twice. “I wish you could see how red your ass is already, baby.” You whimpered when he hit you directly on your pussy. It made your clit pulse with need. 

“Wet already? You’re shameless.” Chanyeol unzips his jeans and pulls it all the way down, getting rid of his shirt as well. He bends you over the table and pulls apart your ass cheeks, spitting directly on your pussy and using his hand to spread it around. “No need for foreplay, baby. I’ll fuck you with your own wetness and my spit.” 

You screamed when the delicious burn from Chanyeol’s cock stretching you open. He pistons his cock in and out of you at a fast pace, making your tits bounce. He doesn’t forget to hit your ass in the middle of it all, knowing how much you loved the pain. 

“Can’t wait to make all your dirty fantasies a reality, baby. I’ll make you a whore for my cock and my cock only.” You look back at Chanyeol, holding his gaze. “Yes, Daddy. Show me whose holes are these!” Chanyeol smirks and wraps an arm around your neck, pulling your back so they press against your chest. “Show me what I’m good for, Daddy.” 

Chanyeol pulls out and tells you to kneel on the floor. Tugging on his cock, he watches the way you stick your tongue out, ready to take his semen inside your mouth. He comes in one long spurt, making a mess on your face because of his bad aim. Or did he do it on purpose? 

“I’ll make sure to come in your mouth next time, baby. But for now, enjoy my warm come covering your face. You love everything I give you, right?” 

You nod as a reply. Chanyeol chuckles deep in his throat. “Daddy knows you well.” 

[laurazepamwrites]

The Chemicals between us ~Ch.8

 The Orca landed with a bump on the outskirts of a dense forest not far from Bryansk. The landing jerked Junkrat awake and his nose wrinkled from the strong smell of coffee brewing.

 ‘Fuck is that?’ He asked groggily, using Roadhogs frame as leverage to sit up straighter, his long limbs cracked as he stretched.

 ‘That's the smell of four o’clock in the morning princess.’ McCree replied. ‘Want some? Might not get another chance for a while.’

 ‘Ta.’ Junkrat stood up and gave Roadhog a slight kick awake and got a curse for doing so. McCree handed him a mug as Morrison came down from the cockpit. ‘I want everyone prepared to move out soon, make sure you all have your communicators on and make sure they work. If they don't and you get caught out you’ll be on your own. Everyone move your own weapons from the cargo hold, once done we head to the compound. Genji and Zarya will meet us outside the perimeter.’

 Ana placed her empty teacup down. ‘I will scout ahead and keep watch for signs of danger. Plans can go wrong and I want to see trouble before it happens.’

 Morrison nodded in agreement. ‘Go ahead, be careful and contact when you reach the meeting point.’ Ana gave him a quick salute and headed down to the cargo hold.

 ‘Is Athena good to go?’ Morrison asked Winston.

 The large Gorilla looked up from his computer and adjusted his glasses. ‘As well as can be but we won't know for certain until we hit Talons cyber defences.’ Morrison grunted and looked towards the Junkers. ‘Are you ready for this?’

 Junkrat giggled ‘Fucking born ready mate.’ as Roadhog gave a slight nod of his head. Morrison frowned ‘Final warning Fawkes..if you do anything to jeopardize-’

 ‘Yeah I know, I’m dead and there's plenty here to do the deed. Just fucking chill alrite mate? Me n Hog will play our part no worries.’ Morrison narrowed his eyes and studied the junkers before placing the mask of Soldier 76 upon his face, the red visor shone a sinister red. From one of the windows he glanced Ana heading into the forest. ‘Everyone get ready’ He said ‘We move out in 10 minutes.’

  The walk through the forest was slow going and none too easy with the dim light and dense trees making it difficult for Hana to maneuver her Mech, often resorting to taking a longer path to find a clearing big enough. The suggestion of demolishing a path or shooting through the trees was quickly shut down. Junkrat tread carefully over thick roots protruding from the ground and lightly jumped in the tracks made by the large Mech as Hana was once again forced to find an alternate route, he took a deep breath in and revelled in the new smells and freshness of the air. Fuck it felt good to be in the open. Hana grinned at him from her Mech.

 ‘Hey having fun?’

 ‘Too right! Forgot what trees look like.’

 Hana rolled her eyes and laughed ‘You can see trees from the cliff at base.’

 ‘Yeah but not these..’ Junkrat gestured vaguely ‘Spiky ones? Got a funny smell.’

 ‘Pines.’

 They continued walking and trudging through the forest, Junkrat glancing so often towards the group and particularly Roadhog just to make sure he was still there. He got a pang of anxiety when a dense group of trees blocked his view and he lost sight of him. What in that time Morrison shot him? Or Talon where secretly following them? The sudden thought made him glance behind him and scan his surroundings..really should of left some traps. He breathed a sigh of relief when the trees cleared slightly and he found Roadhog, he had barely heard Hana speaking to him.

 ‘Huh?’

 ‘I asked if you are okay?’

 ‘Err..yeah. Yeah im great! Why wouldn't I be! Not long till I get to blow shit up!’ He gave her grin to reassure her and himself. Hana gave him a sceptical look, yet to her credit and his relief she let it slide and returned the smile. ‘Thanks for keeping me company.’

 ‘No worries, gives me more time to be out here before we go back to the lock up!’

 ‘Theres gotta be something you like there.’

 ‘Oh sure, regular grub, running water annnd now I get me own workshop!’

 ‘ Ahem!’  

 ‘ Yeah sure you and Lu are alright I guess.’

 Hana giggled and stuck her tongue out at him. ‘You're a jerk but youre alright, hey look! There's a clearing, lets catch up!’

 Roadhog watched as Junkrat and Dva approached them, not speaking until Junkrat was once at his side. ‘All good?’

 ‘Yep, all good.’

 ‘Not gonna do anything stupid I hope.’

 ‘If I do its by accident.’

 Roadhog grunted ‘Don't be impulsive.’

 Junkrat laughed ‘When have you known me to have any control over that.’

 ‘Mean it Rat..be smart about this.’

 Junkrat scoffed at him and rolled his eyes as Morrison signalled that they were close to the first point. Sure enough in the distance stood Ana, Zayra and Genji waiting on them.

 ‘Are we clear?’ Morrison asked on approach.

 ‘As Well as can be, time is now against us though. The first patrol is in less than thirty minutes.’ Said Genji, glancing towards the large Mech.

 ‘Hey its not my fault the stupid trees were so close together!’ snapped Hana, rather defensively.

 ‘Still think its bad idea to have those two here.’ Grunted Zarya nodding towards the Junkers.

 Junkrat scoffed ‘Really? Pick your fucking time to have a moan ya fucking pink Juggernaut!’

 Zarya laughed ‘Oh ho! Those brave words from someone I can snap in two with my little finger.’

 Roadhog stepped forward ‘Try it.’

   Morrison jumped in as Zarya stepped forward to the challenge. ‘Back down!’ Morrison barked at Roadhog and turned to face Zarya, ‘This is neither the time or place. That goes for everyone. I will not have childish bickering when we need to depend on each other in the field. Am I clear?’

 Zarya's lip curled in contempt but she nodded in agreement then Morrison looked to the Junkers. ‘Oi I didnt fucking start it!’ Junkrat protested looking offended. Roadhog gave him a shove and muttered something, ‘Fine fucking crystal alright!?’

 Convinced the matter was at rest for now Morrison continued. ‘Team A get ready, once our target hits our marker we strike. Winston, Torbjorn, prepare your equipment, once that patrol is eliminated we advance on the gate then it's down to you to get us in. Everyone else know their positions and objectives?’ There was a collective murmur of confirmation ‘Good, then let's begin.’

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

 Dimitri Ivanov took the last drag of his cigarette and tossed it, the smoke drifting lazily into the early morning air. He heard the command to move and he snorted and spat on the ground. He fucking hated mornings. He was a military man during the Omnic crisis and fought in many battles, a well seasoned soldier with a large count of dead omnics to his name just like his comrades. Dead and alive. He had new comrades now, him and four other surviving men and women from his old unit. After the war their government had hardly given them anything to live off, their homes had been destroyed and like thousands upon thousands of others they had nowhere to go, no living to make. Until one day he was approached by a man, a man with an opportunity which promised work and security. An opportunity that promised a better world for everyone. A world built for the strong by the strong and he was proud to serve, proud to serve Talon.

 The patrols around the compound was easy work if but boring. He had been stationed here for a month now and the most exciting thing to happen was a stray dog getting too close to the fence. At Least it confirmed the turrets worked. The only people they saw where the trucks entering and leaving and the drop ship that came last week. He trudged along with his patrol and slung his gun back over his shoulder, reached into his pocket pulling out a cigarette and lighting it, his nearest comrade nudging him as he did so. Dimitri shrugged his arm away and took a large inhale of smoke.

 ‘What problem?’ He said, smoke exhaling through his nose. ‘Nothing out here but us and birds. Relax Anatoly my friend..nothing to shoot at us out here-’

 He turned in confusion as his comrade suddenly disappeared from his side and slumped to the ground. The rest of the patrol stopped and came to his aid. ‘He sick?’ One asked. They took his dark balaclava off his face, only then realising that his throat had been sliced open.

 The patrol leader shouted orders as Dimitri struggled to reach for the gun across his back and frantically scanned the dense forest, he felt a rush of wind behind him and heard the thud of another body falling, someone fired wildly at nothing. He barely lifted his gun as he felt a hard slap to his chest, followed by another, the cigarete dropped from his mouth, smoke and blood trailing past his lips. He fell hard to the ground and the last thing he heard was the sound of bullets hitting their targets. The patrol was dead before they even realised what was happening.

 Morrison surveyed the surrounding area waiting for a sign of the compound being alerted to the attack, a moment passed with only the sound of birds in the trees, convinced the first wave was successful he signalled for Team B to advance to their position. Winston and Torbjorn led the way and found a vantage point just below the crest of a hill overlooking the compound giving them high ground and cover. They both quickly got to work setting up a field computer as Ana scoped out the area with her Rifle. ‘Four turret droids on the gate’ She relayed back to Winston. He nodded and quickly typed on a small keyboard, lines of code flashed across the monitor in front of him as Torbjorn adjusted a signal booster. ‘If Athena can’t get in I modded this enough to send a pulse through every droid in this place..will only last a minute or so but may give us a much needed window.’ He said as he worked.

 ‘We might not need to use it..      hmm    that's odd.’ Said Winston, his brow frowning at the screen.

 ‘Is there a problem?’ Asked Jack, coming to inspect the monitor.

 ‘I'm not sure Commander, I’m in their system but..’

 ‘What is it?’

 ‘It was too easy, almost like I was let in. I’m familiar with Talons cyber security but this is..well a child could have accessed it.’ Winston gave a slight cough ‘A..er..very smart one atleast.’

 Torbjorn laughed ‘Well surely that's half our job done?’

 ‘Maybe what they have inside is not worth the protection?’ Offered McCree.

 ‘It’s enough to have guards, turrets and officials. It's important.’ Stated Ana ���But Winston is right Jack, this could be a trap.’

 ‘If it was a trap the perimeter guard would have been prepared for us. Talon are arrogant, they don't expect an assault. Winston, shut down those turrets.’

 Winston looked toward Ana who gave a slight nod despite the frown on her face, sighing he continued typing on the keyboard as Ana looked through her scope. ‘And..that should do it’ He said looking up.

 Everyone waited and looked to Ana as she surveyed the gate, she smirked slightly as sure enough one turret slowly stopped moving, followed by another and another until each one had stopped.

 ‘Have they noticed?’ Asked Genji.

 Ana looked back and smiled, ‘None the wiser.’

 ‘Accessing perimeter turrets now.’ Said Winston, tapping further instructions to Athena ‘And..we are in! Perimeter and gate security disabled Commander, Captain.’

 Jack cocked his weapon and turnt to his team ‘Everyone in position and remember your roles! Advance!’

[hardyimagines]

Part 1 — SOLD!

———

may I ask you to write Something about a girl who is sold to alfie (by her father, boyfriend or else) to repay a debt, the girl is terrified by him the whole story, and he won’t soften because of her, he is as harsh and tough as in the show.

Part 2      Part 3

———

The bounds tied around your wrists were securely knotted in an impossible to escape manner. It was rope. Braided strands tied so tightly around your flesh that the sharp wiry strands that stuck out in multiple places were embedded deep within your skin leaving you to wince each time the leash-like material was yanked on. The alley you were being pulled through was dark and silent apart from the quiet thudding that echoed throughout the small space as you were led along the pavement and toward an abandoned building in the decreasing distance. The exterior was gray and rundown. Windows were cracked in some places, others were completely shattered and gone. The stars that twinkled above were too beautiful for the angry world below to be able to look up at and enjoy. Your gaze was pulled away from the night’s sky when you were pulled forward and indoors at an even harsher speed.

Eli, your boyfriend, stood in front of you with no regret in his orbs. His eyes were so dark brown they looked almost black. His gaze was infused with worry and a little bit of hope, but no regret and he offered no explanation as he cradled the opposite end of the rope. You’d been fast asleep in bed and then all of a sudden hauled up and off of the warm, comfy mattress and jerked into the cold streets. Eli hadn’t even bothered to grab a coat for you, he’d merely led you outdoors in your nightgown. Neither of you looked to each other. Your heart ached with betrayal and his heart ached with hopeful relief.

Months ago, before he’d met you, he’d made the poor mistake of screwing over a few gangsters. That term wasn’t used lightly. These were criminals, dangerous men who wouldn’t hesitate before taking illegal actions to settle debts. Eli had been trying his hardest to earn back money to pay back said gangsters, but there were too many of them and he was running out of time. When he’d seen you, so beautiful and pure and willing to converse with him, a complete stranger, he’d decided you’d be the perfect pay off. Or at least brief pay off. He’d approached and within a week you’d fallen for him. A charming smile and smooth words were all it took for you to become attracted to the man you hated so much in that moment. This was the second time you’d been used to settle a form of payment, only the first time you’d been given away had been by your beloved father. He only had one child, you, and he, without hesitation, had sold you to a bloke about four years ago when you were in your later teens. It had been the worst months of your life. It was a time that was infused with cheap meals and stomach aches. An uncomfortable environment to sleep and an impossible environment to get clean in. The water stunk which meant you felt filthy even when you bathed. The man who’d purchased you had used you as nothing more than a punching bag, something to let his anger out on. You worried for nights that his physical abuse would turn sexual, but it never did. Now, you found yourself in the same situation. Being sold as an object was a way to make a woman feel small and useful in such a horrible manner. The door in the corner opened with a loud moan, an irritating sound which made you want to clasp your hands over your ears until it was finished. The ties on your wrists made that impossible though, so you stood with your shoulders squared and your head forward. Despite your strong, sturdy stance, the tremble in your bottom lip and closed eyes gave away the fear that welled up inside you. No man blamed you. They wouldn’t want to be sold to a gent either. Especially not the one sauntering into the room. Alfie Solomons, a gangster in Camden Town, had been threatening him for months. Men could be seen lurking over his shoulders, revolvers in hand as they silently warned Eli that if he didn’t pay Alfie back for all the money he’d taken then it would be his life at stake. The cold room grew even colder when a foreign voice flooded the entire building. It was deep, hoarse and gruff. The accent was thick, definitely cockney, and he dropped a swear word into his sentence after almost every other word.

“Fuckin’ hell, mate. You could not have picked a fucking shittier place, right, to have this little fucking meeting.” Alfie Solomons made his way along the room and toward the pair of you. You didn’t dare look though, your hearing was enough aid to see what you didn’t want to. It sounded like he had men with him, no doubt accompanying him in this meeting to ensure that Eli didn’t try and pull anything. “Right, mate, so, I’m here, ain’t I? Talk.” Alfie came to a stop about three feet away. His hands sunk into his deep pockets, fingers lazily tracing the chains he had tucked away inside his slacks. His blue eyes ran along the length of Eli, a brief inspection to see if there was an outline of a weapon. He didn’t see one. All he saw was the rope the boy held. Following the length of it which led to you, he cocked a slow brow.

“Alfie.” Eli finally spoke. “This is Y/N. My gift to you. I don’t have the money. But I will. But im giving you her — for free. I need more time so I figured I’d pay you the only way I can.”

Dried tears stained your cheeks leaving a sticky trail from your eyes all the way down to your jaw. The dress you wore was thin and the straps barely hid your goosebump-covered flesh. Your nipples were hardened and visible through the cloth. You felt naked and vulnerable beneath the men’s stares and yet, you still didn’t open your eyes in order to face the man in front of you. Hearing his voice was enough.

The previous time you’d been sold it had been horrible. You’d been silent throughout the sale and you’d figured he’d be sweet to you since you weren’t disobedient. That wasn’t the case. No matter how good. How sweet. How obeying and willing you were to listen to his every command, he rewarded you with beatings until he was bored of you. He hadn’t sold you to anyone else, he’d merely told you to go away and you’d listened with a wide smile. You’d left your old town and moved to Camden which didn’t seem to be the best choice right now.

Alfie was still staring you down. You were very pretty. You held your head high, a sign of confidence and bravery. He didn’t care about the tears, nor did he care about the way you shut your eyes. You should’ve been cowering away and then he wouldn’t have dared take you with him. He’d never taken a woman as payment before, but he supposed there was a first time for everything. Brushing his thumb along his bottom lip, he took another step forward.

“Right, mate, take the ropes off her, yeah, she’s not a fucking dog and I can’t have my girl, innit,” He waited for a nod from Eli before continuing. “to be injured.” Eli scrambled toward you. He wasn’t mumbling apologies or asking if you were okay. He roughly pulled the ties from your hands before rolling the bound up into a ball and shoving it into his pocket. Alfie smirked slowly as you lowered your arms. “Right, boys.” He snapped his fingers. Your eyes opened at the sound of Eli’s sharp wince. The men who’d accompanied Alfie were suddenly hammering their fists into Eli’s face. His stomach, ribs, back, legs, whatever they could hit, they did. You tore your eyes away from the scene when the man who stood in front of you nudged your leg with his cane. “Lass.” You finally looked up at him. The very bravery he’d seen in your stance shimmered just as noticeably in your gaze. It was watery and tears continued to brew in your big eyes, but it was there and it made a little bubble of pride form in his chest. His tongue slid over his lips before in one swift movement, he gripped your forearm and pulled you toward him. “You get in the car, right, and don’t move a muscle. Just sit fucking still and wait until I’m ready to go.” As you stared up at him, your pink lips pressed together, twitching downward. This man was too hard to read. But his name was far too familiar and that alone made you bob your head with an obedient nod before moving toward the car. You’d do anything to get away from his heated gaze and into some sort of warmth.

Said warmth didn’t last too long. The men outside the car piled in shortly after Alfie had told you to go. Your boyfriend’s body was left limp on the cement, blood staining his features. Nose, broken. Lips, cracked and split. He looked unrecognizable as you peered out the window and toward his unmoving form. He wasn’t dead, you noted, when you saw his back twitch with his ragged inhale. The sound of the car door slamming drew your focus away from that man and instead to the one at your side. Alfie. You’d made a mental note when you’d first heard his name. The backseat wasn’t too spacious, so the second he got comfy, grumbling incoherently, his knee bumped yours, cane situated between his thighs. Everything seemed to be an unspoken agreement. Alfie went silent and the driver took off. You watched him from your peripheral, attempting not to quiver as much as you desperately wanted to. That brave facade you’d had would need to stick with you for some time. Being weak wasn’t admirable — and to the rare one’s who might show you some pity well, he didn’t seem like the type.

—

The car was cold, despite all the body warmth it held. Being with strangers, going to an unknown place, being sold as if you weren’t a human being — it simply sucked all that happiness out of your body and left you feeling like a block of ice. No pumping heart or position emotions. No soul. Just a body. A body with a blank face and empty eyes. You’d rather be dead than suffer through abuse again.

The car came to a jolting stop. You extended your arm to catch yourself, effectively preventing your face from slamming into the back of the passenger seat. Alfie climbed out, cane meeting the pavement first and then his feet followed. You were stiff in your seat. You remembered from your original purchaser to wait for instructions. Wait until you were told what to do. But Alfie didn’t ever say ‘get out’, he just stood and waited. It was common sense.

You piled out of the car and shyly made your way around. No other man looked at you apart from him and that was probably wise on their part. An owner didn’t enjoy his belongings being ogled. The space between the two of you grew smaller and smaller as you approached him, only coming to a stop when you reached a few inches from him. Rules would surely be explained at some point in time, but you felt, as he stared at you with a look of hesitance in his gaze, that he’d never done this before. He pinched the sleeve of your dress and drew you toward him before twisting around and leading you into the tall establishment behind him.

Again. No one looked toward you. Not even as you were hauled down a long corridor and toward a flight of stairs. Working men didn’t stray from their task and even people who needed to speak to Alfie, they only looked at him. No greetings or introductions, just silence. Alfie opened the door to his office before instructing you with grumbled and hand gestures to go to the corner. He seemed a bit on edge, like he had something to handle. But it didn’t matter to you. Stuck alone with him, that was when most men like him — men who accepted women as a form of payment — were weakest. Men like that enjoyed being powerful in front of an audience, not in privacy. So you took a chance and you begged for some leniency.

“Sir.. please have mercy on me.” You whispered breathily. “I’ve been sold before and I.. I don’t think I can take going through what I had to previously.” Alfie was rummaging through a drawer as you spoke, blue eyes taking over his cluttered belongings. Your mouth opened though and the words that spewed from your lips were instantly regretted. He looked at you, spectacles low on the bridge of his nose as he stared, unwaveringly.

You realized in that moment that power radiated off of him. Alone or in a group, he wasn’t fearful. He was the owner. He was in charge. He was not to be messed with. A man, one like your last owner, would have chortled at your words. Kept his distance. Brushed you off. Alfie, you could tell as he stepped around his desk, ceasing his task for the moment, was a virgin to having a woman. There was nothing in his gaze but authority.

“Mercy?” His harsh chuckle shook the room as it left his chest. The sound was deep and overpowering, a sound that made you quiver on the spot. “Mercy,” he laughed a little softer now before approaching you. His wide palm opened completely before lifting to your cheeks. He squeezed the flesh that resided there closing his hand around your face so that your lips pushed together. You closed your eyes, afraid of the gangster that stood before you. “You and I, pet, we’re going to have a lot of fun.” He whispered lowly. His hot breaths danced across the flesh of your cheeks before tickling your ear. Wringing your hands together in front of you, you silently pleaded for the man you’d just been sold to to be kind. To be gentle. To be nothing like the last man you’d been given to. “Mercy is a pathetic thing to beg for, pet.“

———————————————————————

Part 2     Part 3

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