#thank you dark lord this was unexpected

[explodingfurby]

Hello Furblord, how is your day going?

oh hi lord vectre

I have been sick and so I took a day off and i didn’t get anything done 😭 I’m very foggy but overall I had a nice day.

[solxamber]

Kidnapped(?) - Malleus x reader

You were sick of the taxes imposed by the aristocrats in your already poverty stricken village. Your idea of a solution? Kidnap their young master , and make them reduce taxes as the ransom, of course. Only problem is that you went into the wrong manor and kidnapped the wrong young master.

crossposted from my ao3!

It’s far too late for a sane person to be awake, let alone breaking into an aristocratic manor, but here you are, perched atop a wrought iron fence. You inhale deeply, the cool night air doing nothing to calm the wild thudding of your heart. Sure, you’ve trespassed on fancy estates before—who hasn’t?—but this time, you’re aiming high. Really high.

Tonight, you’re going to kidnap the young master.

It sounded less ridiculous in your head, but the village’s plight had pushed you this far. Unfair taxes, people going hungry, all thanks to the greed of the lord’s family holed up in their luxurious estate. Someone needed to stand up for the people. That someone just happened to be you.

You’d never kidnapped anyone before, but how hard could it be? Grab the rich guy, ask for a ransom—specifically, less ridiculous taxes—and stroll away like a hero. Easy.

The manor looms in front of you, all dark windows and dramatic architecture. It's almost too easy to slip past the guards. You start to wonder if they’re just really bad at their jobs or if this is some elaborate setup. Still, you can’t help but smirk. You’re so good at this, it’s almost criminal.

Well, it is criminal. But you know, details.

Inside, the place is eerily quiet. Every shadow seems to be watching you as you slink through the halls, making your way toward the young master’s room. You’ve heard the rumors—aloof, cold, basically allergic to feelings. Intimidating him into compliance? Piece of cake.

After a few minutes of creeping around like a ninja, you find a room with the door slightly ajar. A faint light flickers inside. Jackpot. You steady your breath, grip your very intimidating (okay, slightly makeshift) weapon, and push the door open.

Sitting at a desk, seemingly unfazed by your dramatic entrance, is the young master.

“Ah,” he says, turning slowly to look at you. There’s a glimmer of... curiosity? in his eyes. “A visitor. How... unexpected.”

You blink. This is not going to plan. Where’s the panic? The yelling for help? The appropriate reaction to being ambushed at night?

Determined to salvage the situation, you wave your weapon and try your best "intimidating kidnapper" voice. “You’re coming with me! I’m here to kidnap you, and if you want to see your precious manor again, you’ll lower the village taxes!”

There’s a beat of silence.

The young master raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidnapping me? How... amusing.”

Amusing? You falter. “This isn’t a joke,” you insist, shaking your weapon for emphasis. “I’m serious! Ransom, taxes, starving villagers—ringing any bells?”

Instead of, say, panicking or fleeing, the young master stands up from his chair, all calm and composed, like this is a perfectly normal Tuesday night activity. “Very well. I suppose I should humor you.”

You blink again, utterly at a loss. “Wait... you’re just agreeing to this?”

“Of course.” He tilts his head, giving you a strange, intrigued look. “I’ve never been kidnapped before. It sounds rather... interesting.”

And just like that, he strolls toward the door as if this is his idea. You scramble to follow, wondering what exactly you’ve gotten yourself into.

As you lead him through the estate, you’re still grappling with the bizarre reality of the situation. Here you are, attempting to kidnap someone, and the guy is practically rolling out a red carpet for you.

“You know,” you mutter, glancing over at him, “most people don’t just let themselves be kidnapped. It’s not really how this works.”

He turns to you with a serene smile that’s entirely too pleasant for a hostage. “Why should I resist? You don’t seem the type to harm me.”

You narrow your eyes. Is he flirting? Intentionally or not, this guy’s nerve is off the charts.

“I didn’t catch your name,” he says suddenly, voice smooth as silk.

“I’m not giving my name to my hostage,” you snap back. This is Kidnapping 101.

“Ah, of course.” He nods, clearly amused. “Then I’ll introduce myself instead. I am Malleus Draconia.”

Your stomach drops to the floor. Malleus Draconia. THE Malleus Draconia. The name practically vibrates with power and danger, and you suddenly realize you’ve made a colossal mistake. You haven’t kidnapped the young master of the manor—you’ve kidnapped the prince of the fae.

“Oh no,” you mutter, horror creeping into your voice. “Oh no, oh no, this is bad. This is really bad.”

Malleus watches you with mild amusement, an eyebrow raised. “Why the sudden distress?”

You whirl on him. “You’re Malleus Draconia! I— I wasn’t supposed to kidnap you! This is a mistake—like, a huge mistake. I’ll just let you go and we can pretend this never happened, okay?”

But instead of looking concerned, Malleus just smiles wider, a wicked little gleam in his eyes. “Let me go? But I’m having so much fun.”

You gape at him. “You... want to stay kidnapped?”

“Indeed.” He seems completely unbothered by the sheer absurdity of the situation. “It’s been quite some time since I’ve had such an engaging evening.”

Well. This is officially the weirdest night of your life.

The night only gets stranger when you run into his retainers.

“Young Master!” a voice bellows, and you look up to see a tall, green-haired fae charging toward you, fury in his eyes. “What is going on here?!”

Before you can even explain, Malleus casually steps in. “Ah, Sebek. Allow me to introduce my kidnapper.”

Sebek freezes mid-charge, eyes wide. “Y-Your... kidnapper?!”

Malleus nods with an unnervingly calm smile. “Yes. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Sebek’s brain seems to short-circuit, and he storms off, shouting something about telling Lilia and Silver. You groan, burying your face in your hands. “This is a disaster.”

Malleus, of course, chuckles softly beside you. “On the contrary. I think it’s rather amusing.”

Of course he does.

By the time Lilia and Silver arrive, you’ve already resigned yourself to your fate. At least they’ll make your execution quick, right?

But Lilia just grins mischievously, clearly enjoying the spectacle. “Well, well. This is certainly the most interesting kidnapping I’ve seen in centuries.”

Silver, on the other hand, just raises a brow. “He seems to be enjoying himself.”

Malleus smiles at you, as though being abducted by a random stranger is the highlight of his week. “Quite.”

You’re about to protest when Malleus turns to his retainers with a firm nod. “I’d like to speak to my kidnapper alone.”

Sebek looks like he’s going to explode, but Malleus’s sharp glance shuts him up. Lilia throws you a wink as they all leave, and just like that, you’re alone with the fae prince. Again.

Malleus steps closer, his calm mask slipping just a little. “You know, I’ve grown quite fond of this little adventure.”

You blink up at him. “Are you serious?”

He tilts his head, lips quirking into a smile. “I propose a deal. I’ll help your village with the taxes. In return, you’ll... continue kidnapping me.”

Your jaw drops. “Wait... you want me to keep kidnapping you?”

“Yes. It’s been rather fun.” His eyes twinkle with amusement. “What do you say?”

You sigh, rubbing your temples. “This is the weirdest deal I’ve ever made.”

Malleus grins, entirely too pleased with himself. “Wonderful. Now, shall we shake on it?”

And so, your bizarre, extremely non-traditional kidnapping arrangement begins.

Every few days, it’s the same: you sneak into his manor (more like casually walk in, since he always leaves the window open for you now), and the two of you embark on whatever adventure catches your whimsy. Sometimes it’s sneaking into human markets where Malleus marvels at the mundane—like street food or ridiculous trinkets. Other times, you explore abandoned castles with winding, forgotten hallways that echo with untold stories.

It’s almost normal now, the way he expects you to “abduct” him with little more than a raised eyebrow and a soft chuckle as you half-heartedly demand his presence for another outing. The most feared prince of the fae is now, apparently, your willing partner in crime.

The first time you take him to a local fair, though, you realize just how out of his element he truly is. Malleus spends a good twenty minutes, completely entranced, watching a cotton candy machine.

“Is it... magic?” he asks, his (very pretty) eyes locked onto the swirling pink clouds as the vendor twirls the sugary fluff onto a stick.

You can’t help but laugh, the sound coming out far more amused than you intended. “Nope. Just sugar spun into fluff. You’ve really never seen this before?”

Malleus watches the process with a reverence usually reserved for ancient relics, finally accepting the cotton candy as if it’s some kind of delicate treasure. He takes a cautious bite, his expression lighting up like a child’s.

“Incredible,” he murmurs, his voice filled with awe. “It dissolves on the tongue.”

You bite back another laugh at the sight of this powerful fae prince, someone who commands fear from almost everyone around him, completely taken by spun sugar. “Glad you like it.”

After that, it’s a night of him eagerly trying every strange, sticky fair food he can find, utterly fascinated by things as simple as corn dogs and funnel cake. You can't decide if it’s endearing or a little embarrassing, but either way, you’re having more fun than you’ve had in a long time.

As the weeks pass, the more you look forward to your little "kidnapping" escapades, and that in itself is a whole other problem. Malleus’s wide-eyed curiosity about the human world is... strangely adorable, and while he’s still every bit the regal fae prince, there’s something endearing about the way he asks you questions about everyday things with such genuine interest. He’s surprisingly easy to talk to, his quiet intelligence making for great conversation—when he’s not completely sidetracked by things like human street food.

The more time you spend with him, the harder it becomes to ignore the truth creeping up on you. You’re starting to fall for him. It’s ridiculous, and yet... here you are.

Of course, not everything goes smoothly.

“Human!” Sebek shouts dramatically one afternoon as you and Malleus return from yet another outing. “How dare you abduct the Young Master again!”

You roll your eyes, half-expecting this by now. “Sebek, I’ve told you before. He wants me to kidnap him.”

Sebek bristles, sputtering indignantly, his green hair practically standing on end. “Lies! The Young Master would never allow—”

“Sebek,” Malleus interrupts, his tone calm, but with that unmistakable edge that immediately silences his retainer. “I went willingly. Again.”

Sebek’s jaw drops, looking like someone just told him the sky isn’t blue. “But... Young Master...”

Malleus gives him a slow, deliberate look, his lips curving into a faint, almost predatory smile. “You should try it sometime. You may find it... enlightening. Although,” he turns to you, his voice soft but with an unmistakable possessiveness, “you’ll have to find another human. This one is already mine.”

Your breath hitches as Malleus’s words hang in the air, and you can't help but feel your heart skip a beat. Sebek, meanwhile, looks utterly scandalized, his eyes wide as saucers. Lilia, who has been watching the whole thing with far too much amusement, claps Sebek on the back.

“Don’t look so shocked,” Lilia chuckles. “Let them have their fun.”

Sebek looks like he's about to explode, but instead storms off, muttering something about propriety, while Silver smirks quietly from the sidelines.

One night, after another "kidnapping," you find yourself sitting beside Malleus on a hill overlooking the village, the faint glow of the fair still visible in the distance. The stars hang bright overhead, and there’s a soft stillness between you as the cool air nips at your skin.

Malleus’s voice breaks the quiet, low and thoughtful. “You’ve given me more than I expected.”

You glance at him, curious. “What do you mean?”

He turns to you, his dark eyes holding a depth you hadn’t seen before. “Companionship. I hadn’t realized how much I longed for it until... until you.”

Your heart does something funny at his words, the raw sincerity of them tugging at something deep inside you. Without thinking, you reach out, brushing a stray lock of hair from his face, your fingertips grazing his skin. The air between you seems to still.

“I’ve grown... quite fond of you,” he murmurs, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

You swallow, feeling your pulse quicken. “Malleus, I—”

But before you can find the words, Malleus leans in, his eyes never leaving yours, and you feel the warmth of his hand gently cup your cheek. The world seems to fade away as you both hover there, caught between anticipation and something more.

“I do believe,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your skin as his eyes darken with something you can’t quite name, “that I’m falling for you, my little kidnapper.”

Your heart stutters, and before you know it, you’re closing the space between you, your lips meeting his in a soft, tentative kiss. For a moment, everything else ceases to matter—no fair, no adventures, no strange arrangements. Just the two of you, finally giving in to the pull that’s been drawing you together for weeks.

When you pull back, breathless, Malleus smiles, and it’s the softest, most genuine smile you’ve ever seen from him. “Does this mean,” he says, his voice still low and teasing, “you’ll continue kidnapping me?”

You laugh softly, feeling the warmth of his words settle deep in your chest. “I suppose I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Malleus grins, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “No, I suppose not.”

And honestly? You wouldn’t have it any other way.

This is my first time posting here so i have no idea what i'm doing and the formatting is probably off because i'm on mobile but i'll slowly figure it out.

Masterlist

[writersdrug]

The Good Friend

Chapter 1. A New Hobby

Summary: Johnny regularly checks up on Ghost after he sustained a bullet to the hip on their most recent deployment. It's already too late for him to escape, once he sees what's kept his beloved lieutenant so occupied over the past few days.

Warnings: DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, kidnapping, implied violence, restraining, psychotic behavior, blood, forced to help in kidnapping, obsessive behavior. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE SENSITIVE TO THESE TOPICS. By clicking "Keep Reading" you are consenting to be responsible for the media you consume.

A/N: The people have spoken

Simon on medical leave: a disaster and a headache for the rest of the 141.

There's a daily text along the lines of "Let me know when we get shipped out next." It never mattered how many times Price responded with "You're not joining us for a while. Find a hobby, Simon." He was persistent in coming back to work as soon as possible - shattered hip be damned.

Price had given Soap the job of checking up on the poor brute. "Maybe he misses the usual company." He'd say. "Go see 'im, check in with the muppet."

Soap was a good friend, but there was only so much grumbling he could stomach from Simon. Those "check-ins" would turn into a pity party, with Simon saying "I should be out there, helpin' you lot. Only wastin' away in 'ere. Losin' my head." And it was true - every time Johnny visited, there was an open can of beer on the coffee table, or a glass of whiskey in his hand. The bottle of prescription, opioid pain killers on the kitchen table. Some ill-advised coping mechanism within arm's reach.

It hurt Johnny to see it, it really did. He cared about Simon, missed him, would do anything to get his beloved L.T. back on the team. But he knew the man needed rest and recovery, despite how much it was sending Simon into a spiral. Johnny offered to help clean up his place, but Simon angrily denied the offer. "Don't need a bloody caretaker." He spat.

Just tryin' to be a good friend, Soap wanted to say, but instead he answered with a slam of Simon's front door and a hushed "feckin' bastard."

Johnny was tired of it. When the fuck was this medical leave supposed to end? Apparently, in two weeks ("thank the feckin' lord") -

But, Soap soon discovered, Simon had requested more time off.

Price stated he'd said something about "still not feeling right", which immediately had Soap confused. That old bawbag would've been back in the game the second the bullet was out of his hip, if it wasn't for regulations. It festered in the back of his mind all day: why would Simon do that? What could possibly hold his attention more than the task force? More than Johnny?

There was only one way to find out.

Soap stands in front of Simon's door, knocking loudly against the dark wood. An unexpected visit, which Simon might be frustrated by - but Soap is dying to see what's got his lieutenant so preoccupied. Hopefully, he hasn't fallen into a pit of depression, choosing to drink himself to death, rather than come back to the team.

However, after just a few moments of standing on his porch, Simon answers it rather quickly. And he looks happy. Delighted, even.

"'Bout time, Johnny." Simon says, stepping aside to let him in. "Was wondering if you got lost."

"Was wonderin' if you'd gone crazy." Soap banters back, kicking the door shut behind him. "Cap said ye want more time?"

Simon chuckled quietly, locking the deadbolt behind Soap. He shoves his hands - gloved hands - into his sweatshirt pocket. "Took his advice. Found a hobby."

"Lemme guess: knittin' me a Christmas sweater?"

"You fuckin' wish."

It's good. It makes Soap sigh with relief (internally), seeing Simon in such good spirits. He tosses the pack of blems onto the coffee table and follows Simon into the kitchen. The smell of rubbing alcohol hits him before he sees the counter; bandages, gauze, bloody gauze, hydrogen peroxide, and an open suture kit.

He stops in the doorway to the kitchen, his teeth bared in a wince. "Shite, Ghost- ye reopen tha' bullet wound?" he says, lifting up one of the bloodied pieces of gauze.

"Hm?" Simon turns to face him, then looks at what he's holding. "Oh- nah, I'm fine. Luvie here bumped her head."

Johnny looks up, confused, following Simon's back with his eyes as he makes his way into the dining room - his mind goes blank when he sees the poor, bloodied thing, tied to one of the chairs.

You're staring back at him, hair messed and blood dried against a nasty gash on your forehead. Fabric is stuffed into your mouth, with a strip of duct tape securing it around your head. Your eyes light up with hope as they take Johnny in; you're heaving, poor thing, breaths more like whines as you fight through the delirium of your concussion. Your right ankle is swollen and a nasty shade of purple. Blood all over the chair, your thighs, and now, Johnny finally notices, Simon's hands.

"Dinged 'erself pretty good on my bookcase." Simon says, too calmly, his broad frame standing behind the chair you're strapped into. "Slippery lil' thing, she is."

Simon rips the duct tape off - your voice immediately fills the room, echoing inside Soap's head with your begging and pleading, please please please get me out of here, please help me, he kidnapped me, he's a monster, please-

Johnny has to look away - there's too much noise, too much going on - his eyes trail down the dark hall and into Simon's bedroom. The bookshelf is toppled over, volumes strewn about the floor, a lamp shattered on the ground and casting an eerie angle of light through the room. He hears the sound of his own blood pumping, his chest and throat feel tight, mind racing a million miles a second. Did his LT do this? His Simon?

"Johnny."

He turns back to you. The duct tape is back in place, and now you're weakly thrashing about as much as you can - which really isn't much. Ghost is staring at Soap, one of his hands wrapped around your shoulder, knuckles white with how hard he's gripping you; which is most likely what's making you cry so much.

"Need ya to help stitch 'er up." Simon says, his eyes cold. It's an order. "'Fore she bleeds out on us."

Johnny feels like he's going to vomit. He needs to stop thinking, to stop shaking, and do something. His lieutenant's kidnapped a bloody civilian, for Christ's sake. Why? And what the fuck did he do to her?

"Won't let me touch 'er. Hard to stitch the wound when she's throwin' a fit - damn near stabbed 'er in the eye. I'll hold 'er while you do th' job."

Johnny finally inhales after holding his breath for so long. He stumbles backwards into the kitchen, remembering where the front door is, thinking he should have been in his car and on the phone with the police by now. If he does, though, Simon will be gone forever. Locked up in prison, far away from Soap. How can he save this? How can he save you, and him? "Simon, ye- ye can't be serious, mate-"

"If you walk out tha' fuckin' door I'll kill 'er before you reach it."

That ruffles your feathers. You're whimpering again, screaming against the gag - at him? At Ghost? He freezes where he stands, trying to remember his training. Act first, think later. Do what keeps the most people alive in the moment. That's what Simon had taught him. The same man who was threatening to kill you, ironically, based on what Soap decided to do.

"Get the sutures off the counter." Simon ordered, apparently sensing Soap's inner turmoil. He knows Johnny wouldn't leave you there, not after the threat.

He couldn't.

Soap exhaled heavily through his teeth, forcing his muscles to move. He snatched the suture kit off the counter and stormed back into the living room. He heard Ghost hum in approval as he slapped it down on the table.

"You do it." he said, his voice low and full with grit. "Ye stitch 'er up, I'll help ye take her to the hospital. We come back n' clean up-"

"Shut the fuck up-" Simon growled out to Soap, gripping your chin in his large hand and yanking your head back against his abdomen. "Get to work. Don't let 'er die on me, now."

Die. Die. You had a concussion and a headwound, but you weren't dying - still, he knew that wasn't what Ghost meant. If Soap didn't help, you would die, one way or another. He had to think of this differently, for the time being. He was helping you. He'd take this little by little - first, patch you up. Figure out what the fuck to do with you later; also, how to keep this from ruining Simon's career, because he couldn't leave the task force. Soap wouldn't let that happen.

So, he took the needle and sutures in his hand, and knelt on the floor, between your restrained legs. Ignored the way you screamed and thrashed, only held still by Ghost's meaty paws. Didn't focus on Ghost's satisfied grin. He was doing this to save your life, you'd understand that later. He was doing this to save Simon's career.

Like a good friend.

Next ->

Taglist: @a-sadmilky

Ghost photo credit to @chatskaja

[misc-obeyme]

You were so unexpected. He knew that you were yet another task that Lucifer was pushing off on him for the sake of Lord Diavolo. Only another instance of being used, of being relied on, of being given the job no one else wanted to do.

It was difficult at first. A great demon like him had better things to do than babysit a fragile human like you. But time passed. Things changed. You changed and he changed and everyone else changed, too.

And then one day Mammon looked at you and saw his entire world.

He saw his sun in your eyes and his moon in your smile. His sky in the soft expanse of your skin. His roots in your fingers slotted perfectly with his. Time and tide and thunder and lightning, every part of him and every part of you - it was his everything.

It almost hurt to say it out loud. To admit to this vulnerability. His greatest weakness. It was always you. It would always be you. And in darkness, when you couldn't quite see him, he found he was desperate to whisper his truth into you. Pressing his face against your hair or your neck, his arms around you, feeling your heartbeat thudding against his. When he could just exist there, in the only place he ever felt like he truly belonged.

The Celestial Realm didn't want him. And the Devildom was only home because no place else could be.

Until you.

You saw him for who he was. A demon, a former angel, but more than any of that, you saw a brother, a friend, a lover. You saw the part of him that wanted to have fun, pulling pranks on Lucifer and going out clubbing with Asmo. You saw the part of him that wanted to protect, threatening Levi's bullies and taking the blame for Belphie. You saw the part of him that kept things normal for his family, teasing Satan and gifting things to Beel. And more than anything, you saw him when he was open and raw - when he didn't hide himself behind too much bluster, when he admitted how much his brothers meant to him. How much he loved you.

And maybe it was a little bit dangerous. Mammon knew that when it came to you, it would take so little. That in an instant he could become a demon whose power and rage cracked through the very fabric of existence. The kind of demon he never felt the need to be, the full potential that he let pass by in favor of keeping the peace. It would be nothing if it meant keeping you safe.

Pact or no pact, Mammon knew the truth. And deep down, he was sure you knew it, too.

That Mammon would let that power off its leash and bathe the world in blood, only for you.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

[cressidagrey]

Unknowing

Summary:

“If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her.”

What if… Azriel actually takes Rhys at his word? And does exactly what his High Lord ordered? With unexpected consequences.

This is the Inner Circle finding out about said consequences. Azriel is very good at keeping secrets

Warnings:

(This is a doozy.) Mention of Sex Work, Unexpected Pregnancy, Mention of Faerie Genocide, Mention of Faerie Wings being used as leather, Mention of Sex

Note:

This was a thought experiment that kinda started to grow a life on its own.

(super pretty divider by @saradika-graphics)

Azriel slid into the Dining Room of the River House nearly on the cusp of being late. Mostly because he hadn’t been able to pull himself away from what he had been doing that afternoon. 

Nobody in his situation would have wanted to leave. 

It had involved his wife and the flower field in their backyard… their daughter sleeping peacefully in her willow basket a few paces away, cradled in a bubble of her mother’s magic that would keep her asleep and safe from anything that could happen to her. 

Fed, changed and as happy as a clam to fall into her usual milk-induced coma, he knew that she would only wake up if she wanted more milk. 

Which meant that her parents had some quality time for each other…and they had made the best out of that. 

The result was a little shimmer of magic all over Azriel that he couldn’t get scrubbed away. Not that he had tried particularly hard either. He liked having that proof of his wife’s pleasure all over him. 

His wife, his mate, the mother of his child…his fucking sanity . There were many words he had for Embelia. 

She was the bright spot of his life, untouched by the darkness that leeched around him. A secret he gladly kept.

And if the glimmer of her magic followed him and showed everybody that he was hers…well, then that was the case. Azriel didn’t particularly care what anybody else thought of it. 

Azriel was out of fucks to give, to be honest. Had been, for the better part of two years…ever since that Solstice. 

He was pretty sure that something inside him had splintered apart at Rhys’ order. 

That fucking order had been the reason why he had ever even met Embelia though. He had taken Rhys literally. If you need to fuck someone, go to a pleasure hall and pay for it, but stay away from her. That had been Rhys’ words. 

Her had been Elain. 

Azriel had listened to Rhys. He had followed the order to the fucking letter, giving the High Lord of the Night Court to complain about. He had left Elain alone…who had figured things out with Lucien. Both now happy and ensconced in Day Court, with Helion, Lucien’s actual father. 

And he had gone to that pleasure hall.  He had asked for any female that wasn’t afraid of him…and then Embelia had claimed his hand with hers. And that had been that. 

 Granted, he hadn’t known her name then. For months, all he had known her as had been Blossom. That’s who she had been to him for months . 

Just Blossom. Every Thursday, he had gone to that pleasure hall and paid for her company. 

And then she had gotten pregnant. 

Not quite what either of them expected. 

He hadn’t even bothered with a contraception draught and while she had, apparently it hadn’t stood up to Azriel of all faes. 

He should probably thank the mother on his knees for that . 

But Embelia had told him about the pregnancy and had been very clear from the start that while she wanted the child, she wasn’t going to ask anything of him. Which was simply unacceptable. 

He had grown up a bastard. He was not going to put his child through the same if he had any choice in that matter. 

And he had been a little bit in love with her then already. So taking her from that pleasure hall and making her his wife…moving her into a cottage he found and making a life with her…that had been the easiest decision he had ever made. 

They had just fit together…

She had come to live with him, and had given up her job, though that wasn’t something that bothered her all too much. More than anything she was happy that she no longer needed to do that to keep alive, to make a living…

And he got to hear the story of how she had come to Velaris and to the pleasure hall.  

Embelia was a Floresco Fairie. One of the few survivors of that breed of Lesser Fairies. The rest of her family had been slaughtered in the Spring Court Centuries ago. 

She had escaped and had ended up in Velaris of all places, traumatised and alone. Still half a child to her people, not having a trade or anything of that sort. The natural ability of a Floresco Fairy made it possible for her to grow flowers and life wherever she stood but none of that particularly lent itself to a well-paid job. 

So the pleasure house it had been. With a glamour, of course. 

The first time he had met her, she had left the glamour fall away, showing him a pair of iridescent pink wings sprouting out of her back. 

Even then he had thought that she was the most gorgeous thing he had ever seen. 

That opinion had never changed. If anything…after the birth of their daughter, after the mating bond had snapped for both of them, sometimes between cutting the cord and pressing a kiss to their daughter’s blood-covered head, covered in downy black curls…and he had watched Emmie cradle the baby against her chest, watched her coo to her, not caring one bit about blood and sweat and anything else, because there was their little girl that they had hoped and prayed for…somehow at that point, love seemed such a weak word for what he felt for them both. 

Somehow…somehow they had become the light of his life, the only guide he needed. And he protected that ferociously. 

Maybe even more than was necessary. 

He kept them away from his job and from anything and anybody that may would know him as the terror of the Night Court. 

They were his. His. His . 

The first thing in his long life that was his and his alone . 

And maybe that was too possessive, but…he had never wanted to listen to anybody else’s opinions about his and Embelia’s relationship. 

And everybody would have had their opinions. 

He knew that.

Instead…he had kept them a secret. 

To this day, nobody knew. Not Rhys, not Cassian, not Mor, not Amren…not Feyre or Nesta. 

Though of all people, sometimes he thought that maybe Nesta suspected something. 

But even if she did…that was fine too. 

He had made Embelia his wife, and his mate and the mother of his child and nobody could take her away from him. Nobody but herself, and she was gloriously happy in their little flower-covered cottage, where she was…content to dabble at being a housewife. 

After the life she had, he could understand it. She revelled in the normal, in doing nothing but dote on their daughter and try and cook him dinner, which had started as absolutely disgusting but these days often turned out at least mostly edible…to tend to her garden of flowers, which were all she ate anyway…

To just exist there, in that little slice of paradise they built. 

And instead of being with her…he attended a family dinner at the River House that evening. He would have gladly just stayed at home, made himself dinner, or maybe let Embelia try to feed him, which never quite worked out and then walked their daughter to sleep. 

It would have been perfectly fine to him. To press a kiss to their daughter’s black curls and stroke her iridescent purple sparkling wings that were carefully folded and laid over her back…her heart-shaped mouth would open into a perfect o and she would yawn and he would fall in love all over again. It wouldn’t just be perfectly fine. It would be everything he had ever wanted. 

And then he could lay her in her crib and he could walk the few steps to their bed and crawl into it next to his wife, and she would give him that smile…and he could cocoon both of them in his wings and fall asleep, safe in the knowledge that she would be there the next morning.

Maybe kiss her some more and hear very perfect noise that left her throat and feel her warm body against his, skin like silk and small warm hands that could take him apart in seconds. 

But no. Rhys had ordered him. Like he was sometimes prone to be doing these days. Maybe because he didn’t know how Azriel spent his free time and clearly him being a loose cannon was way more believable than anything else. 

Oh well. Azriel wasn’t in the mood to clear that up. 

If anything he was in a brooding mood, wanting to go back to his afternoon in the flower field. 

“For cauldron’s sake,” Cassian complained, just as he started to violently sneeze. Multiple times. “Did you roll around in a flower field or something?” his brother demanded and Azriel was amused besides himself. 

“Yes,” he agreed drily, taking his seat next to Cassian who just glared at him and then grumbled under his breath, swapping seats with Nesta because otherwise he was probably not going to stop sneezing. 

“The Lord of Bloodshed taken to his knees by some flower pollen,” Amren drawled from across the table and Cassian glared at her. 

Nesta just snorted in amusement. 

Rhys and Feyre appeared at that moment and at least the discussion of flower fields was tabled for the moment. 

Which was just as well. 

Azriel mentally wondered if he could get away with skipping dessert if he cited some headache or something. He could get dessert at home. It promised to be much better than anything that would be served at the table anyway. 

Or maybe that was just going to make Rhys think that he was on the brink of some sort of breakdown even more than he already was. Who knew? 

Was it worth the mental berating that it promised to give him? All under the guise of worrying about him or checking in on him? 

Azriel had his own opinion about that these days. 

He couldn’t help but flinch as Nesta suddenly reached out to touch his hair. 

“What are you doing?” he asked her drily as Nesta pulled back her hand, Embelia’s glimmer sticking to it. 

“You have…glitter in your hair,” Nesta gave back. “What did you do?” she asked him with a grin. “Is that some kind of fashion choice now?” 

“It’s not glitter,” he gave back. It wasn’t. It was the flakes that Embelia’s wings shook loose when she trembled. It did look like glitter though. Sparkling, catching the sunlight…gorgeous, like every inch of her. 

“Az, I don’t know if you are ready to hear it, but it definitely looks like glitter,” Nesta told him with a snort. “Don’t worry, it suits you,” she said graciously, biting back a laugh. 

Mor was watching the whole thing. “It’s not glitter,” she finally said, mustering his hair with far too much interest. Azriel forced himself not to twitch under the assessing gaze of her brown eyes. Once upon a time, he would have given nearly everything to have her look at him like that, but nowadays…there was nothing there anymore. He would always lover her but sometimes during centuries of yearning for her it had settled into a deep and abiding friendship. Into loyalty. No longer the bright burning of desire, of…anything like that.  “Though I would really like to know where you found a Floresco Fairy to talk into your bed, Az,“ she said with a wink. 

Azriel didn’t react. 

“A what?” Feyre asked, curiosity piqued. 

“Floresco Fairy,“ Mor repeated. “They used to live in the Spring Court…centuries ago.”

“They don’t anymore?” Feyre wondered and the conversation around the table dropped. 

“Tamlin’s father had them slaughtered and used their wings for leather,“ Azriel said, his voice forcefully even. It was even more horrific than it sounded like. A whole breed of faeries was killed off because of their wings. Floresco Faeries had never been violent or a fighting breed. They kept to themselves, raising their families and growing their flowers and their crops…and then it had been ripped apart into a bloodbath. 

Embelia had been right in the middle of that. She had escaped, her youngest sister in tow…who had later succumbed to her injuries and all Emmie had been able to do was to bury her into the icy ground in Winter Court. She hadn’t outright said it but Azriel had known that for years she had wished to bury herself right there alongside her sister. 

Feyre just stared at him, blue eyes wide. “That’s horrible,“ she whispered, swallowing. 

“Yes,“ he agreed. It was. 

Horrific. 

“Not all died, a few escaped,” Mor said, trying to make it seem less horrific than it had been. “It happened a very long time ago. But still, they are quite rare. Where did you find her?” She asked Azriel, clearly trying to find something else to talk about.

He wasn’t stupid enough to lie to Morrigan, whose gift was Truth. 

“Today? At home.” He answered honestly. 

“Home?” Mor repeated, sounding amused beside herself. 

“Is she the same one you bought that solstice gift for?” Nesta piped up. 

He had asked her for advice, more out of desperation than anything else. She had been quite helpful though. 

He hadn’t been anted to ask Mor for obvious reasons, Armen would have probably bitten off his head and Feyre…well then Rhys would have known. But Nesta? Nesta had listened to him when he had asked politely and had then told him that if she liked him, she would like whatever he would buy her.

Not that useful but oh well. 

So he just nodded. 

“Which one did you end up picking?” Nesta asked him, curious. 

“I just bought both,” he admitted with a shrug. 

A hair comb that Emmie still wore nearly every day, silver and pink stones intertwined, keeping blush hair pulled back from her face and a pair of earrings that she also wore sometimes. 

She liked things like that, even when she never seemed to spend much money on them. And he liked buying her stuff like that because then she wore it and had that pleased little smile on her face, content and happy…

“Lucky girl,” Nesta told him with a secret smile, elbowing his ribs and he bit back down a smile for himself. 

“Az got a girlfriend?” Cassian asked, sounding shocked. 

“I do not,” he disagreed with a roll of his eyes. He didn’t have a girlfriend. He had a wife. Very different. 

“So you just buy…What did he buy, Nesta?” Cassian asked. 

“He was waffling between a jewel-encrusted hair comb or a pair of lovely earrings. Apparently, he got her both,” Nesta answered her mate with a sigh. “You should take some advice from him,” she told him drily, making Cassian roll his eyes. 

“So if you don’t have a girlfriend, you just buy hair combs and jewellery for any female you come across?” His brother asked him drily. 

He just shook his head, not saying a single word. His shadows tightened in response, crawling closer to him from where they had skittered away. 

They liked Embelia, though they had taken a special liking to his daughter, tendrils oftentimes coming to play with her or checking on her through the night. With Emmie they kept a respectful distance, though they liked to hide and play with her, like they basked in her pure presence.

It wouldn’t surprise him all too much if that’s what they did. 

“Flower and Bud are safe” they whispered at that moment, even when he hadn’t asked. 

Right. Safe. 

“Leave him to it, Cassian. Though maybe next time wash off the glimmer. Or don’t have one of your amorous adventures before you show up to dinner,” Rhys drawled. 

It shouldn’t have upset him like that. It shouldn’t have. 

It was harmless. Mostly at least, but Azriel couldn’t help but feel the icy rage burn bright in his chest at Rhysand’s words. At his brother’s words. 

He didn’t have many good things in his life but he had Emmie and he was not going to let anybody take her away from him. He was not. 

That was simply unacceptable. 

“If you try to forbid me from bedding my wife, Rhysand, we are going to have a problem,” Azriel snapped back icily. 

A real problem, because he was not willing to give up Embelia under any circumstances. Not her and also not the pleasure they shared. 

He regretted his words instantly. One could have heard a pin drop in the Dining Room of the River House at that moment because this was the last thing anybody had expected. 

The last thing. 

He had kept his wife and his daughter hidden and he had been completely content with that because it had kept them safe and secure and he hadn’t wanted to listen to anybody trying to talk him out of it or telling him it was a bad idea. 

It was his fucking choice and he had never regretted it once. 

“Your wife ,” Amren was the first that recovered. “Your wife?!”

“Yes.”

His wife. His daughter. His family. 

The family he claimed. They were his. 

“You don’t have a girlfriend but you have a wife ?” Mor repeated. 

He just nodded. 

“You got married. When?” she continued asking him and he met her gaze. 

“About a year ago,” he answered. It had been just the two of them…and well, the babe slumbering in Emmie’s womb, but that was the whole reason for the wedding in the first place, right? 

“You didn’t even invite us to the wedding!” Cassian complained, having suddenly recovered his ability to talk. “You got married and you didn’t tell us?” 

Clearly. 

“And you never thought that that was something we may want to know, Azriel?” Rhys asked, his voice icy but Azirel met the gaze of violet eyes with his own.

“If you believe it or not, I can just about manage my personal relationships or my amorous adventures without the input of you, High Lord,” he drawled. 

There had been no reason to tell anybody. Least of all Rhys. 

“That was not what that was about and you know it,” his brother hissed at him, but Azriel just shrugged.  

Maybe it wasn’t. Maybe it was. 

Maybe it had really just been a political worry for Rhys, but that didn’t mean that what he had done, hadn’t hurt…didn’t mean that he hadn’t pulled rank with Azriel in a way he had only done so very rarely. 

Rhys had gotten what he had wanted in the end. Elain and Lucien had figured it out…Day and Night were closer than ever. 

And Azriel…well, he was still pissed off about what had gone down in Rhys’ office that Solstice. Fucking furious, to be honest.   Even after Embelia had come into his life…even after she had married him. Even after the mating bond had snapped. He loved his wife, but he was still fucking furious about being treated like that. 

Furious and hurt. 

And maybe that had played into his decision as well. 

There was no reason to tell Rhys what happened. No reason whatsoever. 

Rhys must have caught that thought because the shimmer of night started to swirl around him, but Azriel wasn’t scared. He just raised a single eyebrow in question. 

“No reason?” Rhys questioned harshly. “You are the Spymaster of this fucking court, Azriel! You don’t think that maybe I should know who you are cohabiting with? Who you share a bed with? Who you married? How long did you even know this female before you married her?”

“A few months,” he answered drily. “What do you think I talk about when I am with her? Bring up the secrets of the Night Court as Pillow Talk? Oh, I tortured a couple of faes from Hewn City this afternoon, oh, harder, love? ” He questioned with a roll of his eyes.

Feyre choked out a laugh.

Rhys did not find it amusing. 

“Where did you even meet her?” he demanded. 

“Why, Rhys, I just followed your orders. You told me to go to a pleasure hall so I did,” he shot back. He had followed that order to the fucking letter. 

“So she’s a whore,” Rhys said and Azriel just looked at him. 

Embelia wasn’t ashamed of what she had been. Quite frankly, neither was he. She had done what she needed to do to survive. He was never going to give her the fault for that. The fault was on Spring for slaughtering her family and on the Night Court that they hadn’t given better support so that she would have never gotten into a situation like this where that was the only way out. 

But Embelia? She had been a whore. It was a simple fact. And she wore that proudly.  

“She was. Yes,” he agreed and he could see it on Rhys’ face what he thought about that. 

“You ordered Azriel to go to a pleasure hall?” Cassian asked. “Why?” he demanded. 

“Because he fancied himself in love with Elain of all faes and I couldn’t have him bring our court to the brink of war because he couldn’t keep it in his pants!” Rhys growled. “So I told him to go to a pleasure hall and pay for it to get it out of his system.”

“Rhys!” Mor snapped, shock colouring her voice

“Clearly, I was right, because your infatuation didn’t last long after you were told no. How long did it take you until you were in that pleasure hall?” Rhys demanded. “A Day? A week?”

“Around 6 months,” he answered, his voice even. “After it became obvious that Elain was going to give in to Lucien…Once it became obvious that she wasn’t interested in me. Then I started visiting the Pleasure Hall. I married my wife 4 months later.” 

“By the mother, Azriel, did all your good sense leave you?” Rhys asked him, shaking his head.  “What were you thinking?”  he demanded. 

“That I love her,” Azriel said calmly. “I love her,” he repeated. 

“Wow, she must have really been worth the money you spend on her,” Rhys drawled. 

She had been. Every gold coin. Every fucking clipped copper he paid for her company. Everything had been worth it, just for Embelia’s company.  

He didn’t even react to it. He had heard worse. But he could feel his rage grow with ever fucking word Rhys uttered. 

“She is worth more than you will ever understand,”  Azriel said quietly, his voice laced with steel.

Rhys glared at him. And then he said something so utterly inappropriate that the rage exploded. 

“So that’s what you needed all the time? Some pretty female that opens her legs and suddenly she leads you around by your prick?”

It felt like somebody had sucked all the air out of that room. 

Azriel’s blood boiled with anger and hurt, seething inside,  his control barely keeping the darkness at bay.

He wanted to kill Rhys at that moment. He couldn’t remember ever being this angry before. 

Having their relationship reduced to that…

Embelia’s face appeared in his mind, her smile, her laughter, the warmth of her touch. 

His sanity. 

He had made his choices, and he would stand by them. No one, not even Rhys, could make him regret loving Embelia.

“You can say whatever you want about me, but you say a single thing about my wife or my child and I’ll rip out your fucking throat, and don’t think for one moment that I won’t,” he snapped back harshly. “And yes, for the record, she was worth every fucking clipped copper, I spent on her. She was worth everything. I wanted to marry her. I asked her. I made that choice. She has done absolutely nothing but love me .” 

“You got a kid too?!” Cassian piped up. “Az?” he asked and Azriel ground his teeth.

“Yes,” he bit out. 

“How old?” Cassian asked quietly. 

“3 months tomorrow,” Azriel answered honestly. Cassian stared at him, hazel eyes harsh. 

“Boy or Girl?”

“Girl.”

“I got a niece and you haven’t told me?!” Cassian demanded. “How dare you! I owe her three months' worth of gifts and cuddles!”

“Cassian!” Nesta said sharply and Cassian started pouting. 

“Are you sure that the kid is yours?” Rhys drawled. 

He didn’t even bother to answer that question. 

“Where are you going?” Rhys demanded as he stood. 

“Home,” he gave back clippedly. “I’d rather walk my daughter to sleep than listen to you insult her mother and ask if she’s actually my daughter.” His voice was dripping with disdain. “Like there ever were any questions about it. She got her mother’s wings and my colouring.”

***

Nobody followed him home. Which was a good thing because Azriel wasn’t in a particularly forgiving mood at the moment. He was still furious. Utterly furious. 

Even as he walked through the door of the cottage… right until he saw Embelia sit in the living room, in that overstuffed armchair and nurse their daughter. She looked up as he entered, smiling.

And suddenly, every bit of anger just went up in smoke, because he couldn’t care less. 

Not when his mate was sitting there nursing his daughter, and it was so easy to just cross the room and drop to his knees before her, to let her reach out for him and run a hand over his hair and jaw and he leaned into her touch, breathing in the smell of earth and home and love. 

Home. He was home, he was with her and that was all he cared about. He stared at his daughter, happily drinking…dark eyes closed in concentration, one pudgy little fist pressing against Embelia’s breast, clearly making sure that her source of milk was going nowhere and he pressed a kiss to her downy soft hair, breathing in the combination of scents of himself and Emmie that clung to her. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” Embelia asked him softly and he just shook his head. No. No, he didn’t want to talk about it. He just wanted to be with his girls. He just wanted to…He just wanted to be right there. 

“You are the best things that ever happened to me,” he whispered hoarsely. 

A gift from the mother herself, and he still wondered every fucking day how he deserved both of them. 

Emmie ran a hand through his curls, staying quiet, as their daughter stopped drinking and he reached out to take her. 

Embelia happily relinquished her hold on her, but not before pressing a kiss to his cheek, and a soft touch to their daughter’s wings…iridescent black. 

Her wings. His colouring. 

No question about it. 

He walked her to sleep like he always did when he could be there, pressing her little body tight to his chest, a scarred hand holding her as carefully as she was made out of spun gold. 

Emmie had laughed at him at the start, at how carefully he held her, telling him that she was a baby and would survive it if he kissed and cuddled her. Still, he had been terrified of hurting her. 

She was so small, and his hands were so big and broad and scarred and…

But sometime during the last few weeks, he had realised that his daughter…his daughter would never look at his hands as anything other than the hands that had held her and comforted her. She would grow up with these scars…she probably wouldn’t even notice them. 

They would just be a fact of life to her. 

So he walked her, the slow swaying circles around their living room that he always made to calm her as much as him, as Embelia tidied around the living room, got ready for bed, and made herself comfortable for the night. 

He could hear the bath running as he felt the touch against his mind. It wasn’t Rhys. 

It was Feyre.

He was surprised enough that he let her slide in, just a little bit, and he knew that she caught a glimpse of the baby in his arms as he felt the surprise register. 

“She’s beautiful.” It was nearly a coo in which she said that, much to his amusement and pleasure, taking in the iridescent wings that lay folded over her back. 

“She got it from her mother.”

It was the truth. Embelia was the most beautiful fae he had ever laid eyes on. The kind of beauty wars were fought over, that brought males trembling to their knees…Azriel easily admitted that he also met that particular criteria. 

“You missed a knockdown drag-out fight between Rhys and Cassian…And then Mor and Nesta decided that they should also get a word in.”

That was not what he had expected, to be quite honest. 

He had half expected that he was going to end up taking his wife and his daughter and find someplace else for them to live. 

“Amren stopped them from levelling the city,” Feyre said drily. It should have amused him, but it didn’t. Not really. 

“You should have come to me after that solstice, I would have told Rhys that he was being ridiculous,” Feyre told him drily. “I’ll deal with him. I promise.”

“It’s fine,” he waved her off. It was fine. 

Right now at least. He never could stay angry when he got to be home when he got to hold his daughter. How could he be angry when he got to hold her? 

He didn’t want to be angry when he held her…He just wanted to breathe in her scent and feel every bit of tension bleed out of him.

A snuffling sound came from his daughter, then a heart belch…and her little body relaxed against his, clearly on her way to the land of dreams. 

“No, it’s not, he should have never done that,” Feyre cut him off. “Or talk to you like that for that matter. Neither on Solstice nor today.  I’ll make sure he understands that. It won’t happen again. You can expect an apology tomorrow.” 

Now he was amused. It bled all over Feyre, who just huffed. “What, do you doubt that I can make him apologise?” she challenged him. 

“Of course not, High Lady,” he promised her. If anybody could get Rhys to weaken in his stance, then it would be his mate. And that was exactly why he had never told Feyre, never wanted to bring her into a position where she was in disagreement with her mate. 

“So congrats on that wedding,” Feyre said suddenly. “We owe you a gift or two, I think…Who knows what Mor is gonna come up with…” He could just hold back the snort at that but could feel Feyre’s amusement leech all over his mind. “Can I…” she trailed off, unsure for a moment. “May I see her?” she asked, curious and delighted for him all the same. He could feel that. 

He pushed a memory at her, from that afternoon…of his wife and his daughter in that spring sun, in that flower field,  their wings glittering and fluttering, Embelia’s pink hair falling to her waist in soft waves and curls, their daughter with his dark hair and her wings, curled up in her mother’s arms, grinning gummily at her…Happiness was oozing from every second of that screenshot. 

“You are beyond lucky,” Feyre said quietly. 

“I know.”

He knew that with every fibre of his being. 

“What’s her name?” Feyre wondered. “She’s beautiful.” 

She was. Gorgeous in fact. And that wasn’t just coloured by the fact that she was his wife and his mate…but she was gorgeous. 

“Embelia,” he answered Feyre. “Family calls her Emmie though.” He called her that, some of her friends did as well. It was what she was most comfortable with. 

“And your daughter’s? What’s her name?” Feyre asked. 

It had taken them months to settle on a name, and then finally, it had been so easy. 

“Aster.”

“A Star and a Flower,” Feyre realised with some amusement. 

“Embelia thought it was just fair.” 

[bamsywrites]

And Comes Dawn pt iii

Pairing: Sauron/Halbrand x Reader, more ships/love triangles to come, though, so stay tuned.

Summary: the deciver has decided he must get rid of you until a stranger reignites his curiosity in an unexpected way.

Word count: 2k

Notes: let me know if you wanna be tagged. I was not expecting this many people to like this fic. Thank you so much for the feed back, I read every comment and reblog multiple times. Keep any and all feedback coming. I'm super invested in this series and have so many plans that I'm so excited to write.

Tags/warning: male masturbation, nothing super explicit but sauron has some pretty unhealthy kinks, slow burn, saurons post nut clarity is murder plotting, sauron being sauron. galadriel finally shows up, cliffhanger

Series Masterlist

“She does nothing but sit there, day in and day out. Our rations are wasted on her!” 

“All of us sit and do nothing because there is fucking nothing to do.”

Halbrand and the older man were fighting again. Halbrand had become annoyed that the other had declared himself the de facto leader of the raft, and his anger exploded when it was proclaimed you had not 'earned' your rations. He had obviously found it absolutely insane and when you made no sound or protest, he took it upon himself to make it known how insane it was. 

“I am the leader here. I have organized the rations, I have kept order, and I have directed where we go.” The other man seemed offended. He had proven himself to be rather arrogant, and you held no surprise that he would suggest such a thing or believe that he was the leader of the raft.

“Oh great Lord of the Raft. How difficult your job must be. Deciding if we die a little to the west or a little to the east.” Halbrand rolled his eyes as he spoke. 

“Be sarcastic all you want. She's lucky we don't throw her in.” 

The air stilled and a dark shadow passed over Halbrands face, his jaw clenched and in a moment he had grabbed the other by their shirt, “The moment you do that is the moment I feed you and every single person on this raft to the wyrm.” Their faces merely inches apart,  Halbrands voice was cold, full of hatred, and it sent a chill over everyone on the raft. The older man stared up at him with fear, a fear so palpable and intense that it was as if he was looking into the eyes of the great foe himself. 

“Halbrand,” you spoke softly, fingers gently wrapping around his wrist and moving him away. “This is not what I wish.”

He turned to look at you and his gaze softened,tongue peaking out to wet his lips. The air flowed again, and the darkness lifted, “You wish to starve? Because that's his wish, that's his plan. He wants to make our supply of food last longer by taking the very little portion you have. He knows you would never say anything to him, and you can not ask me to sit back and watch you starve, sweet one.” His eyes searched your face as he spoke with such earnest conviction. 

“I do not wish for you to murder in my name,” you replied in a passionate whisper. 

Halbrand nodded, sighing softly, “Then I will not,” he leaned closer to you, so his lips were next to your ear, and you could feel his hot breath on your skin. Your breath caught in your voice as he whispered softly, “Know that I would, though. If you only asked, I would burn this raft and everyone on it to keep you safe.” 

He pulled away and pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head as you stood speechless. The butterflies in your stomach exploded. This was new. Your interactions had been purely platonic until this point. He never presented himself as someone more than a friend, and you had been content with that. Yet you enjoyed the feeling of his lips on your forehead and greatly missed them when they were gone. 

The talk of murdering everyone else was one you didn't wish to dwell on. Perhaps it was hyperbolic. Perhaps said in anger. Either way, those were thoughts for another time. Now, you would embrace the shivers and butterflies. 

“Well, your highness, she will be eating today and I will ensure it,” Halbrand gave the man a pointed look and the other simply nodded, his eyes still swimming as if he'd seen some great horror but you were too fixated on the ghost of Halbrands kiss that lingered on your forehead to pay it much mind. 

~

He'd taken the deception too far when he placed that kiss upon your head. He regretted it the moment he did it. The taste of your skin stained his lips, and it was all he could think of. Your skin felt unbelievably soft and he could just imagine what your lips would taste like, your tongue, your cunt. 

Your cunt. The thought of it had been all consuming. Warm and wet. Soft and velvety. He ached to feel it, to taste it, to take it. The thoughts had led to his current position, standing at the edge of the raft with his cock in his fist. This act felt below him but the thoughts wouldn't leave his mind and he needed some relief from them. From the thoughts of you. 

Thoughts of your cunt. 

Warm and wet. Soft and velvet. 

His eyes fluttered, and his breath caught in his throat. He hated every second of this. He had no control. Ever since you looked up at him with those eyes of yours, eyes he wanted to make weep as you choked on his cock. He breathed a soft curse as he imagined your sweet, innocent eyes looking up at him with your lips wrapped around his cock. His thumb collected the precum from his tip and worked it around his shaft, the soft wet sounds filling the night. 

Would you be inexperienced?  Had someone claimed you before? You were his and his alone, his precious sweet one. The thought of someone else having you first filled him with such rage. He would drench his hands in their blood and paint your body with it as he fucked you. His hands around your neck, squeezing enough to feel your life thrumming underneath his fingers. 

You were his and his alone. No one else could touch you, no other lips taste you, no other cock take you. He'd burn all of Middle Earth to ensure it, torture any man who dared look at you. He'd carve his name into your flesh, lick the blood off your skin. A growl escaped his lips, the thought of his name scared into your soft skin. His hand tightened around his cock and his movements increased in speed. 

His breathing got more ragged as he got closer to his peak,  your name tumbling past his lips in a choked whisper. He could almost imagine you whining and whimpering his name, his real name.  That was what sent him over, the visual of you impaled on his cock and desperately calling his name. He groaned loudly, his seed shooting into the water. 

Breathing heavily, his eyes closed. Almost immediately, the cacophony of thoughts entered his mind. That had been a brief reprieve, but now his existential crisis continued. What was his purpose? Who was he now that his master was dead? Power and control, how could he have both without sacrificing the other?  

And then your smiling face flashed through his mind, the sound of your laugh...-

This couldn't continue. No amount of curiosity was worth this loss of control. He was a god, but his mind as of late had been reminiscent of a teenage boy. Thoughts may plague him, but he would forget you within the age. He needed you gone, dead. The longer you stayed alive, the longer these damn lustful thoughts would plague him and be his undoing. He was slowly losing his sanity because of you. 

The problem was he couldn't do it. He tried mere minutes before giving into these urges, but as he looked at your sleeping face, he couldn't bring himself to push you in and under the waves. In thousands of years, no one had been able to still his blade or stay his hand with such ease. He couldn't look at you and take your life. He could not be the one to do it, that thought alone proving to be more a reason for your death. Weakness was not something he would tolerate. 

His mind called out to wyrm, calling it to their location. If he couldn't do it, he'd give the task to something else. By nightfall tomorrow, you'd be gone. You'd be at the bottom of the sea or in the belly of the beast. By nightfall, he'd have his mind back. 

Why did the thought of your death fill him with such dread?

~

He wouldn't even look at you. You'd greeted him in the morning, and he ignored you. You sat next to him, and he moved to the other side of the raft. You watched as his eyes bore into planks of the raft. You wet your lips and pulled it between your teeth. He was your first friend in a very long time, and now you had lost him for reasons that escaped you.  You were utterly alone, lost at sea, and you struggled to find hope here. All you could do is close your eyes and remind yourself that falling into despair would do nothing more than make the situation worse and more hopeless.

You watched the clouds pass in the sky, counting them, and your fingers tapped away at the wood. Every few moments, you had to blink away the tears that had started welling in your eyes as you thought of losing another person you cared for. Suddenly, you sat up as you heard what you thought was a voice in the air. You squinted as your eyes examined the fog.

“There's a voice on the water.” You spoke quietly. 

Almost instantly, bickering broke amongst the others. To save her or not. You shook your head, “We're not leaving her to starve and die!” 

One of the others pulled her up and gave her water as you grabbed her a chunk of bread and looked for a piece of cloth or something that could bring the stranger some warmth. The bickering continued as you searched and returned with a piece of bread.

“Suppose you'll be sharing your rations?” the old man asked. 

You couldn't help the roll of your eyes, “Damn the rations,” you kneeled and handed the stranger the bread. “It's not much, but it's something. Are you hurt?” 

Before she could answer, one of the others asked, “What are you doing out here?”  

The stranger took the bread, “I was separated from my ship.” 

You looked at her with empathy. Of course, you could understand. She looked over at you as if to answer your question next, but she stopped, her eyes examining your face as if she knew you but was unable to place how. It made you uncomfortable, made your heart still. Has your past caught up with you all the way out here? 

“She doesn't look dangerous,” the other woman spoke.

“Looks can be deceiving,” Halbrand spoke, and you were about to protest when you saw the point to her ears. Your blood ran cold, and you moved back from her. 

“Remove your hand from me, sir,” the stranger spoke, her attention returning to you. “I know your face.”

You quickly stood up and stepped back. This could not be happening. Not here. Not now. Perhaps the elf could save you, or perhaps she would convince the others to throw you into the sea. The sins of your father would never stop chasing you, it seemed. 

~

“I know your face."

His head snapped your direction at this revelation. What did that mean? How would an elf know you? He watched your reaction, the fear and shame passing over your face confirming that there was a story there. He cursed silently.

All day, he avoided looking at you. All day, he had convinced himself that you were nothing more than a naive human, that the warmth he felt had to be in relation to this new form getting used to the world around him. There was nothing special about you. Nothing at all. He repeated it over and over, though he never really believed it. He could sense the darkness and calamity swimming through the ocean towards them, the beast he had called, and he had convinced himself that your death would solve his internal struggle. 

But now, this damn elf had reignited the curiosity with vigor. It felt as if an inferno burnt through him. He had to know more. He knew when the wyrm came, he would be unable to leave you to death. You were the most curious thing, and it was infuriating. 

Who were you? 

previous next

[lazyjellyfish300]

by the moon 🐺

Synopsis: the story of you, the daughter of a village baker and how you came to fall for the mysterious Atsuya Kusakabe who harbors a dark secret that plagues him every full moon. One problem: you're betrothed to Naoya Zenin who you do not love. 🌕

Banner/divider cred: @/saradika-graphics

Words: 9.3k (I can't believe it either tbh)

CW: x FEMALE! READER, MINORS DNI, SMUT, P IN V, LOSS OF VIRGINITY, MASTURBATION, CUNNILINGUS, SUI IDEATION MENTION, PET NAMES(PRINCESS, SWEETHEART, ETC) SOME HISTORICAL MISOGYNISTIC ATTITUDES, DARK CONTENT, DUB CON, POSSIBLE NON CON JUST IN CASE, IT'S NOT TOO CRAZY BUT PLSSSSS TAKE CARE IF YOU'RE SENSITIVE. INFIDELITY , BITING, WEREWOLF! KUSAKABE, KNOTTING, BREEDING, PREGNANCY, ROUGH SEX, SPIT, CUM, CREAMPIE, NAOYA SUCKS, ABUSIVE RELATIONSHIP WITH NAOYA, CONTROLLING BEHAVIOR, NEAR DROWNING, VIOLENCE, GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OF BLOOD, DOMESTIC VIOLENCE, ANGST, FLUFF, NON GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF KILLING ANIMALS

A/N: for the amazing Monster Mash event hosted by the incredible @nanamiscocksleeve . Thank you sooooo much for having me!! 💕💕 HAPPY SPOOKY SEASON! 🎃👻 And ty to @actuallysaiyan for being my source of inspiration for my first go round writing werewolf smut. 💕😩

Snow in October was rare, yet the quiet beginnings of the unexpected snowfall began to dust the ground, the shimmery white blaring against the deep orange and green of the forest.

You tugged your blanket tighter around you as though you could sense the bitter chill directly through the frosted window of your new manor house, its unforgiving walls causing your mind to wander far off elsewhere during this same time of year, five years ago...

He was the first and only man you ever loved, and the way you met him was entirely by accident.

The riverside village you grew up in was quaint, surrounded by trees with the innumerable evergreens of the deep forest just on the outskirts.

Despite its charmed exterior, its inhabitants were gossipy, prone to mob mentality, and rather superstitious. One stray rumor quickly added kindling to the fire of another like a domino effect, leaving the poor victim scorched and shunned. And although you knew better, something about you always yearned for something greater outside the small minds of your town, the daughter of a mere baker.

Day after day, smoke and chatter filled the small streets as merchants hustled for a living. Farmers ushered livestock, fish were gutted, and business carried on as usual. Preparations were well underway for winter's timely arrival as the village made haste to meet this year's quota to avoid famine.

A large chunk would go to House Zenin, led by Naobito, the ruling Lord of the region who lived on the other side of the mountains. An early frost like this caused winter's kill to afflict the vast river and the population of fish, putting many livelihoods in jeopardy.

This unsettling pressure was tangible in your interactions with the locals, including your father who was more short tempered than usual as the orders for bread came in quicker than he could fulfill.

So, you did what you do best which is run away into the forest despite numerous warnings and disapproving nods from your neighbors not to wander off, especially during the heart of October when the full harvest moon's appearance would happen like clockwork. This would could give way for a completely new problem that plauged nightmares and local legends:

Lycanthropes.

This year in particular coincided with a blue moon.

The issue of a werewolf had not haunted the village in hundreds of years. Though, with this blue moon on the horizon, it only fanned the flames of unrest, villagers insisting the Gods must be angry due to this year's scarcity and were sending a werewolf as penance for their grievances.

However, some took this opportunity to indulge in the fascination behind the supernatural and trade old stories around the fire during the harvest festivities, hearty drunken laughs echoing from the bitter ale.

You supposed, as you thought to yourself as you sauntered through the expanse of the forest floor along the twig laden paths, that coming face to face with a werewolf wouldn't be all that terrifying.

Who's to say those beasts weren't capable of feelings or just as fearful of humans as they were of them? You thought it thrilling to run underneath the moon and be chased by such a creature. A creature that ran on two legs like a man with claws and sharp teeth, big and strong. Easily overpowering you. Something oddly alluring about the primality, the taboo behind the uncertainty of what he'd do to you when he caught you. You, his helpless prey he'd rip out every corner of the forest that concealed your sweet, sweet scent away from him...

But all of these things, you surmised, would land you directly in the village looney bin had anyone else accessed your thoughts.

As you wander, you don't realize you're being watched until your observer makes himself known.

"Village is that way, miss."

You whirl around, eyes widened when you're greeted with the stern gaze of a young man who was weathered and rugged like someone much older, eyes a shade of brown that competed with the intensity of the bark of trees that surrounded you. Bushy brows that almost met in the middle, dark spiky hair, and a sharp jawline that framed his handsome face.

"I'm sorry -I'm..." You hesitate. The first rule not to wander in the forest, already broken, soon to break the second of not speaking to strangers as well.

"I'm not looking for the village..."

Atsuya Kusakabe tilts his head. You were like a lost fawn. A dead one if your survival skills and sense of judgement were truly as poor as his prior observations of you led him to believe.

"Do I know you?" You prod, eyes searching his face attempting to jog your memory. "Wait, I think I know you..."

Kusakabe looks away, trudging silently towards his cottage that was tucked further down the path, towing a wooden cart with fishing tools and you stumbling behind him.

"You're...are you....you're the Kusakabe boy?"

You had heard rumors of the scorned family, who, many years ago were banished after the mother was thought to be a witch. The fate of her young son remained unknown, until now.

Your eyes catch a glimpse of one particularly long scar that adorned his forearm. He takes notice and unfurls his sleeve down in response.

"Ya really shouldn't be out here. If ya turn back now, you'll be home before sunset." He shoots an annoyed look at you when he realizes he won't be rid of you so easily. "Seriously, you're not concerned about your safety at all?"

"I am, I just—"

"Jus' what?"

You shrug. "I like being in the forest. It's better in here than it is out there."

"Really, a girl who likes being in the woods?" Kusakabe's eyes narrow as you approach the small cottage together.

"Yeah. I mean it's not so far fetched. My dad's insufferable. The villagers are annoying. The girls my age want nothing to do with me and the boys my age are all painfully rude and arrogant. It's much better in here where I can be alone."

"Well, get used to it, princess. In here is no place for someone like you."

"Someone like me?"

"Yes, you. You're delicate." His eyes briefly appraise you again.

"I'm not made of glass."

"Oh really?"

"Really."

Kusakabe scoffs. "You're one of those proper girls. Ya know the ones that spend all their time reading books? The pretty ones that always get married off to some rich bastard Lord an' have a bunch of babies."

You couldn't help but remain stuck on the fact that he called you pretty as he turned his back to you, stowing the cart in a shed adjacent to his cottage.

"Well, you're wrong about that. I'm not getting married to any Lord." You straighten up.

"Right, we'll see about that." Kusakabe leans boredly against the shed.

Silence persists for a moment and you try to think of a way to prolong this encounter.

"You're a fisherman?"

"Ya."

"Where do you fish? I've never seen you at the river." You lean on your hip, eyes trained on his.

"I don't go to that river." Kusakabe folds his arms.

"Why?"

He clears his throat, his family history flashing briefly in his mind. "For reasons..." The pause in his voice contains an indiscernible pain behind it. "I go to the lake on the other side of the forest."

"There's a lake?" Your curiosity is piqued.

"Ya? Ya never seen it?"

"Well, maybe you can show me one day?"

"Not a chance, miss." A smile tugs at his lips after thinking for a moment longer. "Okay.... Maybe. But I wouldn't be doing all this for free."

You think carefully. "How about some bread? And in exchange you show me the lake and the ins and outs of the forest I don't know about."

Kusakabe's stomach inevitably grumbles. It had been so long since he tasted bread, having been exiled from the village so long ago. Such things were a luxury to him. He can't help but agree.

"Deal." He notices the sun beginning to dip in the sky. "But seriously, get going, princess. Night's just gonna get darker." He reaches for a lantern that sits on the gate in front of the cottage. "I'll walk with ya."

You walk together, chatting the whole way while he silently listened, fighting to disguise the faint ghost of amusement on his face as you incessantly speak, recounting stories from your childhood, what you ate yesterday, your theories on how the universe came to exist while he escorts you to the forest's edge.

"Well, here ya are, miss. Have a g'night."

"Goodnight, Atsuya."

He smiles, his name was warm when it fell from your lips. His first pleasant interaction with someone his age for the first time in years. He can't shake you from his thoughts that night as he wanders away in silence.

And so, this became a routine. Every afternoon after your studies, you'd run off into the woods until sunset, winding and finding your way back to Kusakabe, greeting him cheerfully with a biscuit or roll. Talking for hours and hours about everything and anything, this blossoming friendship between you two. He couldn't place it, but something about the promise of you jovially running down the path to see him every day became his motivation to let his feet hit the floor in the mornings.

Your father begins to notice, becoming more cold and harsh than usual.

"I don't know what you're up to, but it needs to stop, missy, you hear me?" He scolds you one evening.

"Winter is coming and you're off galavanting in the woods like usual. If you put half as much effort into lazing off as you did making yourself more suitable for marriage, then perhaps we wouldn't find ourselves on the brink of bankruptcy."

You went to bed that night with tears in your eyes, relentlessly tossing and turning as sleep evaded you. Marriage wasn't for you. Or at least your father's idea of it. Loveless and transactional, selling you off to the highest bidder.

You got up in a rush and promptly put on your cloak, off to the woods once again to see Kusakabe despite your better judgement.

Unknown to you, your father hired a group of young men from the village watch guard to keep an eye on you. You despised them and their leader just so happened to be Naoya Zenin, son of the renowned Lord Naobito.

You heard rumors that you were one of the prime choices among the young ladies in the village to be his bethrothed, but everything about him made your skin crawl.

He was rich and handsome on the outside, but the ugly innards of his heart overrode those two things completely. Callous and cruel with a particular sadistic liking for torture, you vowed to stay as far away from him as distance would allow.

The feeling that Kusakabe gave you compared to him was night and day.

Naoya snickered from his tent as he watched your candle disappear into a clearing, nodding for two of his accomplices to follow.

"Let's see where the little brat is off to this time."

"If we're lucky, we'll get to watch her get eaten by something."

Naoya chuckled darkly, "Now, that's no way to talk about my future bride." A smirk painting his loathsome face as he watched you scurry into the night.

-----

"Kusa!"

Kusakabe jolts awake inside his small cottage, heart pounding in his chest when he sees a small flame outside his window, answering you with a wave of disbelief mixed with excitement.

"Hey! The hell're ya doing out here..?"

"I had to see you."

Kusakabe nods and immediately brings you inside, glancing cautiously in both directions. The darkened silence of the forest putting him at ease as he closed the door behind him.

"My father's driving me crazy..." You sigh as you strip your cloak off, landing in a heap beside the modest fireplace and planting yourself onto the rocking chair beside it.

Kusakabe realizes this is the first time the entirety of your beauty became revealed to him, the shadows from the fire painting an air about you that was rather bewitching. No sooner does the thought enter his mind than he banishes it completely.

"Tell me 'bout it."

"He wants me to get married." You tell him with a sigh. "He doesn't care if I'm happy or not. I feel like my whole life is being decided for me and it's so, so unfair..."

Your lip trembles and Kusakabe has to resist the urge to pull you into his arms. The surgence of his feelings he had been in denial about for some time making themselves apparent at last when he lays eyes on your precious tears.

"Hey..."

Your soul flares alight when he crouches down next to you, a supportive hand resting on your thigh. You twitch slightly and Kusakabe waits, thinking perhaps he was too forward, but then you do something that surprises him and you collapse into his chest entirely with a broken sob.

"Kusa...Kusa...hold me..."

Kusakabe raises his hands in surprise but then melts completely as he pulls you into his lap and into a protective carry against his chest.

It was only now that you realized how truly strong he was. He sets you gently down on his bed just on the other side of the room, rocking you back and forth, his brow furrowing as he squeezed you a little tighter.

"M'here, m'here.... m'holding you angel, I've got ya..s'okay....s'okay..."

Your quiet cries dissolve into hiccups as you stare over Kusakabe's shoulder, calmness starting to settle in, realizing being wrapped up in his arms was where you wanted to be all the time.

"Shh..." Kusakabe closed his eyes, relishing the feeling of holding you at last. Warmth traded between you both with every passing moment.

He pulls away for a moment, keeping both of his large hands on your arms, running them up and down slowly and searching your face before he brings a careful hand to your face. The right, followed by the left as he gently swipes at the wetness under your eyes.

A loud hiccup exits your chest and he can't help but smile at the adorable sound.

"Feel a little better now, sweetheart?"

"I *hic* ....sort of..." You sniffle.

"Hey, s'alright..." He murmurs. You notice his lips part a little bit as he takes in your features, an irresistible warmth that starts to creep up between you two that made the air undeniably foggy.

He whispers your name, "...tell me somethin'.."

"Yes?" You straighten your back. "Yes, Atsuya?"

He hesitates, then abruptly decides to take the leap. "You...ya like me, right?"

You give him a mildly confused look.."Of course I like you.."

"No, goddamn it, I mean..." He chuckles and looks at the floor in tired defeat. "Sorry, princess. Language. I mean..." He lifts his brown eyes with a sigh, boring into your own. The softest manner he has looked at you dead on the entire time you've known him.

"I mean..." He says gently. "I mean do ya like me, princess? Do ya feel somethin special f'me?"

You have forgotten how to breathe, but this feeling of being breathless was not one you would come to regret. The heat in your face becoming very noticeable to you the longer you gazed at his beauty. This remarkable young man you didn't realize you were in love with until he had the courage to say it out loud.

"If ya do...I mean, like I do for you, then...then you could stay here." He straightens up, the initial fear of confession over with and a fire lit under him as he continued. "I would take care of ya. I could be a good husband to ya, princess. Wouldn't let anything happen to ya.. keep ya safe..."

He brings his face even closer. "And I'd love you for all of my days..." He cups your cheeks. "I'd even ask your father's permission. So what if he hates me. Couldn't live knowin that I didn't at least try for ya."

"Atsuya..."

He sighs, closing his eyes as he gently kisses your forehead. "Please..." Before he carefully presses it against his own, bringing both of your clutched hands to his chest. "Please, tell me ya do, I—"

But he can't speak for the face of a goddess is staring back at him as you blindly lean forward and capture his parted lips in a delicate first kiss.

His hands automatically pull you even closer to him, clutching you against his chest like salvation as he kissed you tenderly in that small cottage in front of the cackling fire.

----

The group of men look nervously at Naoya beside them in the bushes outside, who's watching the whole thing and keeping eerily silent. But they don't have to guess to know he's absolutely seething.

"My...my Lord...." one of them steps cautiously closer before Nayoa snarls and knocks him aside, snatching the torch away from him and striding towards the cottage in a blackout fury, aiming it at the roof.

"My Lord, wait!!!" One of the guard's eyes goes wide when the moon outside begins to peek through the cloud cover.

Inside, Kusakabe's head jerks up in alarm, pulling you closer to his chest when he hears a yell outside his window, cursing when a flicker of moonlight begins to leak through the windows.

Oh no...

He gravely underestimated how soon the phases would arrive on the calendar. The sclera of his eyes begin to darken, before they become bloodshot, his eyes becoming intense and golden.

"Kusa...?" You look up at him in worry, horror painting your face as you see the distressing look on his face, his face twisting into something sinister.

"Princess, listen..." He fights to keep his voice gentle, it's still the one you know, the one that belongs to your darling beloved. You cling to him in worry.

"Atsuya, what is happening...?"

"Ya need to go—"

You yelp as he hastily sweeps you into his arms, running with you towards the back door, the smell of smoke telling you the cottage was on fire.

Suddenly, his whole body feels alarmingly hot, your eyes widening terror when purple and green veins begin to darken under his skin, the muscley sinew bulging, the sickening sound of flesh tightening and nauseating crackle of bones being broken. The veins in his neck throb as patches of thick hair begin to sprout all along his face and arms, his elongating claws pricking and drawing blood which you scream in pain as they knick your skin before he shoves you out into the harsh cold of the night.

"Run..." He chokes out. The last trace of the real Atsuya you fell in love with before he slams the door closed.

You stare in utter disbelief at the cottage, the burst of orange from the fire and shattering glass pulling you out of your state of shock.

"Kusa..." You murmur, darting towards the front of the cottage, utter dread settling over your entire body when you see Naoya and his group of men, throwing rocks and more lit torches on horseback, taunting and yelling in diabolical glee.

"NAOYA...STOP!! PLEASE!!"

You sprint towards where he's standing, laughing at the misfortune. "Don't hurt him!!!"

He sneers at the sight of you. "Get back, you whore. Toji, restrain her."

You yell in protest as the dark man's strong hands lock you against his chest as you kick and squeal to no avail, heart sinking and crying out in anguish when the roof of the cottage collapses, setting the surrounding trees on fire in uncontrolled blaze while the men cheered.

"Atsuya..." You feel a tangible pain of inconceivable heartbreak with a sear in your chest unlike anything you've ever experienced as you could only assume that poor boy was dead. All because of you.

"You...you FUCKING BASTARD!!!!" The grip Toji has on you has loosened just momentarily for you to barrel straight at Naoya, attacking his face, his arms, chest, torso, anywhere you could reach as you tore and ferociously clawed at him like a madwoman.

His anger turns on like a deadly switch as he growls loudly and seizes your arms while you cry out in a mixture of grief, fear, and pain as he overpowers you swiftly and knocks you to the ground, only before his assault began to worsen in a feral rage as he struck you repeatedly in the face.

Before he can strike you again, you shut your eyes as your consciousness teetered on the edge before a blood curdling scream rattles your bones. You open your foggy eyes, the group of men slowly backing away and turning to run away in fear. You weren't sure what you saw, but it could not be anything other than the largest wolf you've ever seen.

Only it wasn't quite a wolf. It stood on its two hind legs, towering ovover a shrieking Naoya as it mauled him relentlessly, the unmistakable squelch of breaking flesh and fleeting drips of blood staining the forest floor.

You hear the yells of men behind you rallying together, charging the beast. He turned his head, yellow eyes and teeth coated in foaming saliva and broken chunks of Naoya's flesh as he snarled wildly at them with the face of your deepest nightmare before you lost consciousness.

-----

That was five autumns ago. You felt tears brim with longing as you gazed out of the window of your lonely bedroom. The harsh bitter cold of outside seemed more compassionate than the firelit halls of your new home as you were slowly ripped out of your daydreams and faced the reality of being betrothed to a man you did not love.

"Woman, look at me when I am speaking to you."

You turn slowly, eyes sullen with defeat as you look up at the scowling face of Naoya, which was now deeply scarred from that fateful night you were just recollecting.

"Yes, my Lord."

"It's about time you addressed me with some respect." He tsks. "You were off in the woods again last night. If you come home at an unreasonable hour again, I will revoke your permission to ride in the evenings altogether. Have I made myself clear?"

Oh, last night.

You usually took your rides in the afternoons. But as the wedding drew near, the haunting of Kusakabe's memory became more unbearable. So, you started taking them at night, riding horseback to the forest's edge under that old tree you and him would lay under all those years ago just overlooking the vast lake, hoping that the moonlight would somehow bring him back to you.

This miserable existence as the forced betrothed to this disdainful man had caused you to check out entirely. Not caring if the hour was late and he found you out. Sometimes, you dared to think death would more kind if the Gods would not let you be with the man you truly loved.

Maybe that night he really did perish and you were chasing a ghost after all this time.

"Yes, my Lord."

He leans over you with gritted teeth. "You will do well to learn your place. We've only days until our wedding and you will honor me. Is that clear?"

When he sees that faraway expression in your eyes, he boils underneath with jealousy. The look of a woman whose heart lies somewhere else.

"That thing is dead. Do you not remember, foolish girl? I killed it this harvest. Its head now rots on a spike outside these very walls."

You did remember. How could you forget the revenge tour Naoya set out on as soon as he healed from the werewolf attack? Scouring the forest with his men and hunting packs of wolves to near extinction you were sure.

He would do everything within his power to make absolute certain that Atsuya wouldn't live to hurt him or steal what rightfully belonged to him ever again, dashing all of your deadened hopes that he would come back for you.

But, when Naoya paraded his last kill in the streets you felt in your heart that it was not really the head of your lost love.

Naoya would sooner switch places with the beast and put his own head on display before he would ever admit it, but, deep down, part of him trembled in fear that Kusakabe still lived and would come for revenge of his own.

Naoya brings you to his eye level. "That so-called love of yours is not coming back. He's dead."

You tremble and you feel your blood run cold as it seems he relishes in your fear and his dominance over you.

"You will give and submit yourself to me fully, whether you want to or not." Naoya's yellow eyes flicker away from you before one last warning. Tears finally spill out of yours with the deafening sound of the oak door slamming shut.

----

The ground breezes past you at the speed of light as you descend deeper and deeper into the forest, the wind biting your cheeks. Thoughts of Kusakabe fills your head as the salty tears blur your vision causing you to momentarily lose your balance, hands tightening the reins as you encourage your horse, faster and faster, akin to your boiling frustration that you knew wouldn't last much longer.

You tread even farther than you've gone before and chart your course to the other side of the vast lake, now putting yourself with more than a few hours journey away from the village. Not that you'd be returning.

When you arrive at the lake overlook, you bring your horse to a halt, breathing out slowly as the peaceful sight of the dark water grounded you. A distant rumble of thunder echoes throughout the valley and the winds pick up, gently sloshing the waves. Determined, you get down, shedding your cloak and boots, walking to the edge of the black sand, as you take in the oranges, reds, and greens of the autumn drenched forest around it and the ashen clouds hanging overhead painting the world almost a grey blue. How fitting to be surrounded by heaven one final time.

You rock back and forth on your toes lightly to settle your mind. You think of him, of Atsuya Kusakabe. Using his face and the distant memory of his rough voice to slowly guide you to fight off the piercing cold of the water around your ankles, then your shins, thighs, and torso.

Living together in your happy place away from where anyone could touch you as your frantic breaths stilled from the chill and you floated on your back on the mild current. Not giving a damn if he was a werewolf or not. Living freely without shame in love. Maybe raising up a family of your own. Belly swollen with his pups. Dreaming of their little faces that bore a mixture of you and him.

All of this, the fleeting enchantment of the forest, the biting murky tides pulling you further and further from the shore, and Atsuya Kusakabe's name uttered from your lips as you close your eyes, unaware of a looming wave before it swallowed you in one gulp.

----

The soothing heat radiating from a small cackling fireplace greets you as you slowly open your eyes. You're groggy, cold, fingers pruny, and damp hair. Your nose and throat feel on fire and your chest aches. A cough rattles from deep inside and you sit up quickly, heaving as you bend over, discovering you're clad in a long sleeved nightgown with several quilts wrapped around you. You feel dizzy and a numb pounding in your head makes itself known.

"Hey, careful. Don't move too quickly all at once, princess."

You whip your head at the voice which you surely thought was from the grave.

"Atsuya....?"

Those oakey brown eyes were just as deep as the day you met him. He stood there, rugged and tall. The years had weathered his appearance even more, but certainly not in a bad way. His hands were more calloused, gruff complexion more tanned with the evidence of working regularly in the sun and crafting his survival in the rough terrain, unshaven stubble along his square jaw. A man.

You stared at him as though he was made of glass. A facade of fog and smoke. You reached out to touch him and he brought his hand to meet your own. "Yeah, it's me..." The wrinkles by his eyes more apparent as he bestows you a caring smile, guiding a small wooden bowl into your palm. "Here, drink this. It'll help with any pain you're experiencing."

Your bewildered expression remained, still unsure if you were dreaming, dead, or somewhere in between. Finally, you look down at the soup with a reluctant approach.

"S'perfectly safe, princess." Kusakabe reassures. "It's chicken broth."

That pet name shudders through you and you recognize it really is him. You rise up quickly and throw your arms around him, almost spilling the broth.

"Jesus!" Atsuya tenses, sets down the bowl, then relaxes as he greets your hug with his own, one of his hands gently holding the back of your neck as he allowed his face to become buried in your hair.

"I thought you were dead..." You whisper as a tear leaks out of your eye followed quickly by another.

He grips you tighter in response. "I missed ya too, beautiful..."

"How...how did you come to live here? What happened that night? The last night that I saw you?" You pull away for a moment and look into his eyes, running your palms over his cheeks. "Why didn't you come back...?"

Atsuya sighs deeply, leaning into your touch and gently removing your hands from his cheeks, enveloping them in his own. "I wanted to..." He closes his eyes momentarily then opens them, his expression more serious. "But first of all, why'd ya come out here by yourself...? The hell were ya doin' on the lake during a storm like that?" His voice is stern but it trembles at his last question.

You take a step back, caught off guard by his question. "I..." You turn away from him completely. "It's..." You hesitate, trying to stop tears welling in your eyes. "I don't really know. I was upset and I just needed to get away..couldn't bear it anymore. Just wanted to feel something." You bring a shaky hand to your face to swipe at the increasing wetness. "Part of me thought you were dead. I was grieving that. But I don't understand why you didn't at least come back to say goodbye. Letting me think the worst when you were here this whole time."

His heart shatters, his guilt the consequence of his cowardice. But he knew he was only trying to watch out for you, as well as himself. He had no desire to worsen relations between him and the village that cast him out.

Even worse if they obtained knowledge of his true secret. One that he was hoping you didn't fully piece together that fateful night. He couldn't love you if he were a dead man after all.

"I heard 'bout the engagement." He said solemnly. Silence drags the moments between you until it's indiscernible how much as passed. He looks at you, trying to muster up a little more lightness to the conversation and change the subject slightly. "Decided ta be somebody's wife after all, huh princess?"

You huff out a little air. "Was hardly my choice." You cross the room back to the chair he sat you in, bringing the quilts back over you and cupping your hands around the warm broth. Kusakabe takes the stool in front of you. "Lord Naoya Zenin can choose any woman he wants for his bride. The wedding is in three days."

A bolt of jealousy courses through Atsuya followed shortly after with a seethe of silent anger at the mention of your fiance. Not realizing it was to him. "Oh..." He clears his throat, trying and failing to disguise his obvious disdain. "Didn't know that..." He looks at you. "Well, congrats, princess. Hope you're happy with him...."

You look at him with that obvious look of love that said the opposite, but you realize you'll have to fake it until you make it. "Thanks, Kusa."

He knows you well enough to know when you're putting on a facade, but right now, he just wants it to feel like old times again when you and him could speak for hours.

"Well, how's palace life, princess? Now that you're a real life princess?"

You giggle, looking down. "Hardly a princess. A Lady, if we're being technical. The beds are nice and the food is better but nobody warns you how boring the Lord's council meetings are."

"Oh?" Atsuya smirks and leans forward on his elbows, making himself more comfortable. His forearms and generous biceps you notice flex slightly as he props his chin on his fists. "Tell me all 'bout it."

And several hours have now escaped as you chatted away by the low fire. You updated him on life as a soon to be member of the ruling class, telling him all about your education, music, teaching him a few phrases in Latin and other local dialects you picked up from your time as a pupil. You discuss again your theories on everything and he soaks all of it up like water to a parched man.

Now it seems like the passage of five years has become irrelevant as this reconnection between you both made it feel like you never left. Darkness is now fully descended upon the forest. You look out the window, realizing Naoya surely would be on his way, scouring the forest when your horse wandered back to the manor without its rider. You could only imagine the the unforgiving consequences he would inflict on you this time for your defiance.

Atsuya senses the shift in your energy, like there was unrest in your soul that was troubling you. He hesitates but then asks quickly without thinking too deeply about it.

"Are ya really happy with him, princess?"

"Hmm? Oh I'm. Well I'm..." You clear your throat before taking a distracting sip of your broth.

"I spared my father and I from the streets. My happiness and personal satisfaction really come secondary to all of that."

Kusakabe's thick eyebrows raise at this new maturity and attitude in you, but he waited as you continued.

"...In addition our land will have a new Lady to rule alongside her Lord and provide him with successors. It is vital to the Zenin clan."

He looks at you, longing brimming in his expression. "But you're not in love with him?"

Alarmed he could apparently read your mind, your lips part. For a moment as you gaze at one another, the space between you feels very thin. Just like it did that night five years ago when you felt the warmth of his lips for the first time.

But, the fear of being branded a whore for dabbling with someone other than your betrothed before your wedding kept you silent.

"Is he good to ya?" Atsuya asks softly. "Does he make ya feel like I could?"

"He...takes care of me, yes."

"But he puts his hands on ya."

You blink rapidly in defense, resisting the urge to cry again. "M-many lords do when it comes to their lady. It's within their right."

"Yeah, but that don't make it right..." Kusakabe says a little irritably.

"Perhaps I should go."

"No." Kusakabe insists, a little harshly at first, then resumes his gentle tone. "S'well past dark now, princess. You're on the other side of the lake. Ya wouldn't reach home til an hour before dawn."

The knowledge he bears of the creatures of the night eats at the back of his mind. "Ya don't know what's lurking out there. Trust me, you're much safer here til the morning."

"No, Kusa please? I'll be alright..." Exhaustion from your near drowning has overwhelmed your body at this point, your eyelids fight to stay open but your fear of your fiance's wrath is still very present in your mind.

"Really, I don't want Naoya to come looking for me out here. I don't want him to hurt you again. I fear what he'll do if he finds out I came here..I can't put you in that kind of danger again, Kusa."

He scoffs. "Your stupid fiancee can't hurt me, princess. And he won't hurt ya. I won't let him, sweetheart."

"Kusa..."

Kusakabe pauses then trembles. His body on fire. He's sensing the changes that are taking place in the clouds in the night sky outside the window. He needs to get you asleep. Now. As soon as possible for your own safety.

He knows it's selfish to keep you here but he doesn't care. Fate brought you back to him and he'd be damned if he let it take you away from him again. Especially to someone as evil as Naoya. The slowly appearing moonlight outside is working against him and he must act quickly

"L-look, princess. Just sleep here til the morning alright? We'll figure somethin out." He looks anxiously at the window then back at you as he manages a coaxing look. "C'mon, let's get ya to bed."

Before you can say otherwise he brings you to his chest, the firmness and warmth of his body all the persuasion you needed to just let him take care of you.

He takes you into another room in his new cottage which is noticeably nicer than his old one, setting you on the bed with a gentle creak and bringing the covers under your chin. The exhaustion works itself quickly into your system and your eyelids become overpowered immediately.

"Kusa, you aren't gonna sleep too?"

Kusakabe smiles, leaning a hand on your forehead. "Course I will, princess. M'just makin sure you fall asleep first."

The moon juts from behind the clouds even more and he swallows nervously. "If ya wake up and notice I'm not here, I'm probably just out getting wood for the fire, okay? Don't panic and whatever ya do, just go back to sleep, alright sweetheart? Promise?"

"Mmmm... mhmmm....." But you're already in dreamland.

He eyes you tenderly one more time, standing up slowly and walking towards the bedroom door, shutting it gently before he crosses swiftly to the threshold. He almost sprints outside before he disappears into the bushes with a pained cry shortly followed by snarls and a haunting howl that rattled through the evergreens.

------

Hours later, a breeze from the wind in the dead of night brushes the cracked window in Kusakabe's bedroom open ever so slightly causing you to slowly rouse from your deep slumber.

The comfort of being where you longed to be for all these years at last rendered you particularly safe and content, so much that the faintest ember of desire began to tingle between your thighs.

You bit your lip, unable to resist the allure brought on by the lingering haze of sleep and the scent of Kusakabe that was everywhere in your surroundings, in his bed.

Your hand slowly snakes down your body, softly gripping your breasts and tweaking your nipples on the way down as you arch your back. You sigh and dig the crown of your head into his pillow, rolling your clit. The air is disturbed quietly by your little pants, your eyes prying open as the arousal gently leaks into a gradual flood. You notice your lover is gone, but remembering his words, you stay where you are. The way your aching pussy is begging for your attention more and more and the smell of him on the pillows immersing you like the real thing is too good not to follow through.

"Atsuya....oh, fuck....fuck me so good, Atsuya..."

You've done this many times, envisioning him so often fucking you for the first time. Only honorable young women kept their virginities intact, reserving them for their wedding nights. According to plan you'd be forced to give yours to Naoya, but you still dreamed of Kusakabe anyway.

Hopeful that one day Atsuya would be the one to make you cum with a shudder of his name. The first man to roam his eyes all over your naked body. Thinking about the sweet agonizing stretch of his cock that quickly bowed to sinful deliciousness while you moaned to make yourself all his.

His pretty drunk little cock slut who was just an innocent virgin before now underneath him in his bed, stretching herself all out on his thick cock who belonged to him and him only. His pussy to cum in and breed.

Your fingers could only take you so far. You moaned sweetly, gathering the pearly slick and working it into your clit, back in, and out.

"Kusa...mmmfuck I love your cock so much....so much, baby..."

You lock down that heavenly spot, shutting your eyes as you see his face so clear as day above you in your mind, his parted lips and sweaty face as he fucked you with everything he had. His heavy, sweaty cock so long and thick and veiny. Fuckkkkk, his hairy body and chest. Picturing him raising your legs and folding you up while his cock had you creaming all around the base as he hit that deep spot inside over and over with filthy precision before you finally snapped and cried out with your glossy juices permanently staining his sheets.

-----

The sweet, sweet honeyed scent of your pussy hits Kusakabe like a train. Immediate sex pollen as it winds its way into his enhanced nostrils and settles deep in his core, his aching werewolf cock and balls swelling with his seed.

Must breed. Must have you tonight. Make you pregnant by the morning so your piece of shit fiance can't have you. Ruin you permanently for anyone else because when a werewolf finds his mate, only death could stand in the way of what destiny declared to be all his.

The moonlight continued to flood the floor of the forest as he sped past the trees in a blacked out lustful haze. Your pussy: wet, silky and soaked in slick the forefront of his mind.

You scream as he bursts into the bedroom, gathering the sheets all around and clawing your way up the headboard at the sight of the nightmare with yellow eyes.

You tremble and shake as cold sweat pops up on your forehead, your poor heart about to give out as it absolutely pounds in your chest, echoing in your eardrums. Absolutely expecting this moment to be your last on Earth before Atsuya would come back to find your mangled bloody body and guts strewn all over his bed like a horror scene.

But, the beast is calm. He edges towards you slowly, a clawed hand reaching out as you felt his warm leathery palm lock around the meat of your calf as you softly whimper.

"P-please....please..."

In one fell swoop, he drags you to the edge of the bed, spreading you wide open, claws like scissors as they shred your nightgown completely. You yelp as the cold air hits your naked body, leaving your nipples pointed and bumpy. You squirm to get away only before he immediately dives into the glistening mess that was still sticky between your thighs. You cry out from the stimulation that hits you like a rock. His rough, hot breath against you, you hear him groan as his large oversized tongue flattens against your clit, recognizing the low tone of your sweet Atsuya.

"Kusa...?" You whisper.

He grunts almost to say yes, too drunk off the immediate taste of your free flowing nectar he had only dreamed and fucked his fist full of cum to for all those years.

"Ffuck...Kusa? Kusa.....ohhhh..." You stared down at him between your legs with wide eyes and jaw open in shock. God, this shouldn't feel that fucking good. This was hundreds of times better than your fingers.

But why, why was your brain firing up your arousal even so as this fearsome thing stared up at you?

He was so hairy and wolflike but his body bore resemblance to a man. Buff and strong and solid as a rock. It intrigued you, it enthralled you. It felt wrong but God the way he was eating your pussy like he had been long deprived, this feeling of utter euphoria felt so fucking right.

If this was what real sex felt like then you'd let him fuck you all the time.

You go slack and grind against the large meaty wet muscle in his mouth sighing breathlessly as he stroked you with it again and again.

"S'right, baby...give yourself to me..." He rasps in between generous licks.

"Atsuya..."

"Fuck, I dreamed of this....fucked my fist s'many goddamn times to this..." He grunts, his claws knicking the insides of your thighs, making you cry slightly in pain.

"S'okay, s'okay... you'll be strong f'me, won't ya, princess?" He lifts his head from your pussy and licks all along the tiny puncture marks, his wolfy drool oddly soothing as he relishes the sweet metallic taste of your blood. "Gonna breed you once you're ready f'me..."

"Atsuya....oh, God..." You run your fingers in his hair and hold on for dear life as he dives right back in. "Kusa...Kusa, r-right there...right there, baby please!!"

His low growls and thick poky hair on his chin tickle your inner thighs as he plunges his tongue even deeper, your tight little hole loosening up for him under all his heavenly treatment. His tongue could almost pass for three of your fingers on its own, gasping as you feel yourself bloom open around him, silky walls coaxing his tongue deeper as he fucked you with it, determined to wring out your second orgasm tonight and his first with you all into his insatiable mouth.

"Don't stop, please don't stop...Kusa, baby..." You tremble and gasp, thighs trembling around his wolfy ears. He pulls away, and you see his monstrous face in all his glory clearly through the moonlight for the first time, sharp canines and the fur around his chiseled chin all drenched and covered in your shiny slick.

"My Atsuya..."

"My beautiful mate..." He whispers, locking your legs around his waist. Between the v lines covered in dark brownish auburn fur, you see his pulsating cock and the biggest breeder balls you've ever seen, the size making you simultaneously tremble and drool. "You're ready to take me..."

"Kusa, please I've never done this..." Your lovely eyes meet his ravenous ones. A swell to his ego rises and his eyes darken, confirming his suspicion that no man had you before. And none ever would except him.

"Oh don't worry, you'll take me, darlin. Trust me, jus' relax..."

The bulbous, swollen tip rubs at your folds. You coo sweetly at this and he decides to tease it a little again, eager to stuff you but realizing he likes it when you get all whiny and desperate when you gush around his cock.

"Yeah? Feel good?" He mutters gruffly, drool dripping down his fangs as he glides his cock in between your loose dripping lips, his throbbing shaft now coated in a new shine of your dribbling juices as he moves and strokes it up and down, the veins of his girth softly nuzzling and prodding at your puffy wet clit with every careful swipe.

"So good...Kusa...so good, baby....mmmm I love it so much..." You moan as you begin to squeeze and knead your breasts.

You're getting greedy. He realizes he needs to do it now, needs to bury his cock deep inside you if he wants this to work and get you pregnant. Wafts of your evident ovulation and heat inhaling through his nose as he begins to push his cock against your entrance.

You mewl and whine as you feel him absolutely stretch you out to new limits. He draws his hips slowly back, letting the back and forth motion spread the built up slick around his cock to act as lube.

"Kusa, I c-can't...so big...you're too big..."

He brings the rough pad of his thumb to your clit, some sweet relief shooting up your spine like electricity and arching your back again allowing him to push his cock even farther inside your deep pussy.

He chuckles. "Haah, really, princess? Lookit how much of me's inside your pretty pussy already..."

He smirks wickedly as he brings a clawed hand to an emerging bulge in your belly, which you realize with eyes widening is the outline of his cock, a feeling of ecstasy sparking between your thighs again when he harshly presses on it, pressure going to your clit which makes you drip around him even more again.

"There..." He licks his lips as a wolfish grin slowly spreads across his face when his meaty cock is nice and fully sheathed inside your squishy cunt, an experimental thrust of his hips elicting breathy pleas from you.

He thrusts deeply, and picks a rapid pace. Every movement intentional, deliberate and intense. Not an inch of him spared from you as he really lets you feel him, stuffs you nice and full with every mouthwatering ridge, vein, dimple and curve of his wolfy cock.

"So warm n'tight.... Shit.... n' it's all f'me..." He growls possessively. "Tell me you're mine. M'the only one that's gonna fuck this pussy, breed ya with my pups n' these...." He cups your breasts, flicking your nipples, the sharp edge of his claws poking your perky buds ever so lightly. "These will be nice n full of milk, my milk...."

"Fuck, I'm all yours, sweetheart... Just wanna give you babies..." You sputter as you feel yourself go dumb on his cock. "Please fuck me, ruin me so nobody can have me, Atsuya..."

"Fuck..."

He snarls and his grip on your thighs is near bruising before he folds them up, now slamming ferally into you in mating press, his heavy balls smacking against your anus. The depth you found him inside you at this angle really put you to the test. But, you were determined to take him, determined to let him make you a mommy and breed you full so Naoya couldn't have you. Be his pretty little cum dump and fill you, fuck you and love you anytime he wanted.

God, you would let him do anything to you.

"M'gonna...m'gonna..." You feel like you're about to see heaven as he pummels into you even faster, shooting thick spurts of cum inside your virgin womb. He bites down on your shoulder and you scream then sigh as you feel his cock twitching madly inside you as his balls emptied. The volume of his cum was so excessive that it leaked out in gobs of creamy silver white, running down your pussy in filthy trails and staining both your pubes with the sticky substance.

Atsuya sloppily licks your shoulder where he bit as he jolts intermittently a few times, making sure what amount of his cum did land inside you went deep enough, his seed surely working quickly already to make you pregnant.

"Mine...mine, mine, mine mine....all fuckin' mine..." The mantra works him up, gets him excited as he begins to pump inside you again.

"Kusa..." You groan from the building ache, but bite your lip and lay your head back on the pillow when he brings his thumb right back to your clit, activating that tried and true spot he discovered earlier.

Something strange happens. You feel his cock harshly throb inside, pulsating against your walls in a way that almost felt like he was vibrating inside you.

"Baby....that-fuck..." You grit your teeth as the sensation spreads like a shockwave against your body. "Kusa...?"

He smirks, moving his long fingers up and down your ribs, sliding underneath your back and gripping the plush of your ass, using it to firmly shove you down on his cock, causing the lewd mixture of cum, saliva, slick, and blood to squelch out of you a little bit with a dirty wet plap.

You cry out and he captures your chin in his fingers, forcing you to look at him. The head of his cock swells immensely, making you feel impossibly full like you're going to be split open. Your eyes widen in horror as you claw at his arms. He nearly crushes you against his chest, grunting as he moves a little bit inside you to provide you with more friction to ease the ache.

"S'okay...s'okay, s'okay. Let it happen baby, fuck just let it happen, gonna make you mine for good, now. Fuck jus, jus, relax, baby, yeah?" He spits on your clit, the area where you're connected an almost unrecognizable sopping mess covered in both your fluids. He rubs your clit again, which works to loosen you up a bit again, however it's bordering on overstimulation.

Sensing your discomfort, he sucks on your breasts, giving you deep, slow thrusts into the practically ocean of cum inside you as the knot nears completion in its formation, doing what he can to distract you from the ache.

He was taking care of you, his beautiful new mate. This had to happen for the ritual to be complete. You were the first human he had ever knotted in, and he wanted to savor every moment since you would be his last.

You sob, nearly passing out from the overwhelming mixture of pleasure, pain, and elation unlike anything you've ever processed in your life. You go limp in his arms, and he runs a hand, bigger than your face over your cheek, smiling when you blink up at him in a daze through your lovely lashes.

"Did so good, my darlin', so good..." He kisses your sweat covered forehead and looks down, attempting to withdraw his cock from the cum plug he built up around your connected bodies, but it remained cemented in place, the knotting complete.

"Atsuya....my love..." You coo weakly.

Warmth floods him from the inside as he pulls you into a loving kiss.

"You're mine now for good, princess..."

----

Your horse was found wandering in distress in the woods the next morning. Naoya set his men out on a blind hunt in fury, determined to find you and drag you home where you would be whipped to unconsciousness, and then Atsuya made an example out of and executed publicly in the streets.

However, he never found such luck. Your soaked cloak and discarded boots were found floating in the lake and his discouraged men called off the search when they believed you were long buried in a watery grave.

----

Months later in the dead of winter, you hugged and stroked your swelling belly, calling your sweet Atsuya over to put a hand over yours where you could feel his two pups kicking inside you.

You looked at him with love stricken eyes as he prepared you some vegetable soup. This was bliss. Tucked in your little cottage deep in the woods far away where nobody could hurt you. Spending your days doing what you loved and taking care of your little dwelling, then being doted on and adored and loved and fucked in the evenings by your werewolf husband.

Rumors had reached you that Naoya never did take a bride, having been murdered in the streets by his own men when they became fed up with his self serving ways. Either way, it didn't matter, but this piece of knowledge that your abuser met his well deserved fate eased any remaining unrest in your soul.

This permitted you to continue in your sphere of eternity in those darkened woods with Atsuya Kusakabe by your side.

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hii!!! Your blog is literally so perfect. Love it.

Could you recommend some more angsty fics where either Derek or Stiles is really insecure and has low self esteem? Happy ending only, if that’s alright. I really appreciate it!

Aw thanks anon! There's already an insecure!stiles tag so I focused on insecure!derek.

The (Tell-Tale) Heart Doesn’t Lie by novemberhush

(1/1 I 100 I General I Sterek)

After a little gentle teasing unexpectedly hits a nerve with Derek Stiles is quick to reassure him that he knows there’s more to the handsome werewolf than just being really, really, really ridiculously good-looking.

I Know the Pieces Fit by shealynn88

(1/1 I 2,700 I Teen)

“Stiles?”

It’s Derek’s voice, quiet in the dark with the low hum of the pack behind him.

Derek's the hardest one for Stiles to understand. Sometimes he thinks…but then it becomes clear, it’s not like that. Derek tolerates him. Appreciates his loyalty, at least. The way Stiles appreciates the brave hiss of a kitten. Cute. Admirable. But not equal.

And Dwell Beneath My Shadow by lielabell

(1/1 I 8,695 I Mature)

Derek is not stupid. He gets why Stiles puts up with him. It's clear every time Stiles looks at him, the spicy scent of lust and arousal Stiles's body can't help but put off. It doesn’t surprise him. Not at all. Derek knows what he looks like, knows that his face and his body are more than enough to compensate for his shitty personality. Stiles wants him more than he is annoyed by him. Nothing more, nothing less. It's not anything to be amazed over, nothing to write home about. Stiles isn't the first-- and most likely won't be the last-- hormone soaked teen who has panted over Derek.

Cliche by adult_disneyprincess (orphan_account)

(2/2 I 9,305 I Teen)

It’s cliché as shit, Stiles thinks. The nerd in love with the punk. He figures he wouldn’t want Derek Hale so much if he didn’t have those fucking tattoos everywhere, didn’t give a shit what people thought about him, and didn’t wear those stupid leather jackets. They’re not the same jacket either, Stiles has counted at least four different ones that the resident punk owns

Cross a Canyon (with a broken limb) by theroguesgambit 

(1/1 I 18,010 I Teen)

“You never graduated,” Stiles says, just to say it. To test it out in the open air. That's... huh.

--

Stiles spends his senior year battling troll-gremlins, taking on an unexpected tutoring job, and definitely not falling for a certain sourwolf (even though everyone else seems to think he is).

Defying Convention by rororowyourboat

(13/13 I 24,331 I Teen)

Stiles is a newly certified fully-trained Spark, and he's on the market to chose a werewolf pack to act as Emissary for. The biggest problem? Almost every pack in North America wants him, and he's supposed to choose a pack at the 3-day conference. But how's he supposed to get to know any of the likely candidates when they're just being so damn polite and respectful?

Derek and his sisters are at the conference with bleak hopes: their pack was decimated by hunters years ago and their caustic attitudes have turned away most potential applicants.

Rarity by peanutbutter4lyfe

(8/8 I 29,837 I Explicit)

Derek let's the guys throw a party for Stiles' 18th at his loft and instantly regrets it. During the party Derek starts acting strangely, his senses going wild. He reads the signs and thinks Scott is his mate. It drives him crazy when Scott doesn't feel the same, until he figures it out... with a little help from Peter.

Thanks for Thumper, But I Prefer Cheeseburgers by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 58,399 I Teen)

The wolf’s head whipped around so fast, Stiles felt like he was watching The Exorcist.

Stiles wondered if he could just stand still enough to make the wolf think he was a tree. A very bright red and jean-clad tree. He doubted it, but one could hope.

He knew it was a lost cause when the wolf turned fully, lips pulled back from its sharp teeth—so very sharp, good fucking Lord!—and began walking towards Stiles.

“I didn’t see anything!” Stiles shouted, both hands out in front of himself and sweat instantly breaking out across his skin. “I swear to you! I didn’t see anything! I didn’t see anything! I won’t tell anyone! I won’t! I’ll keep this to myself, until the day I die! I promise! I promise!”

You're stronger than you know by Littleredridinghunter

(15/15 I 234,195 I Not Rated)

Stiles survives his encounter with Gerard and his goons, but it isn't easy.

The pack are letting him down again, his dad is not speaking to him, his life is just generally falling apart.

Until he has to get a bronze dagger to kill a siren and his whole world gets flipped on it's head!

My summaries are rubbish but I hope you'll still give it a chance!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

upon his grace 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, power dynamics, cheating, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are called to court after the end of the civil war, but find yourself facing many challenges, expected and not. (fantasy medieval au)

Characters: king!Steve Rogers

Note: bro, Idk how I start at point A and get to fucking outer space. Also happy bday to Steverino.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The gardens of Astra Castle are unlike any you’ve seen before. Certainly, you’ve never been to a royal castle previously. Your father’s own hold is modest, still bearing the wooden foundation, whereas the rich lords have poured mortar and built in stone. 

So, it is a great honour to be among the noble women chosen to serve the queen. Most unexpected. As a daughter of a lower house, it is rather unusual, but it comes with the newly set writ tabled at the end of the uprising. That is how your father tells it anyhow. 

King Steven is as newly crowned as he is newlywed. After a lengthy revolt against the previous king, the land has settled, and upon his victory, the new ruler promises the expansion of prosperity to all. The very precedence of his war rested on the greed of the former court and its covetous lords. 

To those who took up his mantle, he has made good his word. To the commoners, he has sent bread and ale, livestock and alms; to the nobles, he has granted titles and lands. You were of the same doubt as your father, however, you expected to be forgotten in the disarray. 

Yet, you were not. You’re there with several other ladies. A set of blond twins borne of a duke and duchess, the sole heir of a widowed countess, and several earl’s daughters such as yourself. Unlike them, you do not wear satin or silk, not muslin either. You have only the dyed linen your mother attempted to enhance with some embroidery around the cuffs and collar. 

“Marcia and Marigold,” the twins introduce themselves as you cluster together in the gardens, grooms and servants bustling around carriages and chests. “Lady Calliope,” they call out the countess’ daughter, “we met prior, yes? Your mother is near Estrela.” 

“She is,” Calliope answers in her stern manner, herself seeming a widow in her black dress. The shimmery fabric makes up for its single tone. 

“Ameri, Dorida, and... Selene,” they point to the other girls, themselves clothed in scarlet, rose, and azure respectively. “We know the earls, your fathers. They gathered at our father’s hold for the battle near Caffre.” 

The twins take turns speak so that sometimes you cannot track whose lips are moving. It is even that they trade off in the middle of sentences. You find yourself almost as lost by their words as your new surroundings. 

“And you...” The twins turn their jade eyes upon you. It is there you have found the only difference in them; they have the same heights, the same hair, the same gowns even, but there is a sliver of grey through Marcia’s green iris. “We haven’t figured who you are.” 

“My father is an earl. In Woodsdam.” 

“Woodsdam,” they echo in unison and share a look. They are perplexed. 

“A minor house,” Calliope provides. “a farmer more than a noble, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“We have vast lands and we tend to them, yes,” you assure. You expect their condescension. Your father warned you for it but he bid that you keep your chin up. The king has given him a mission of his own and so you will represent the family for the time. “We keep our people well and we fed the king’s troops when they marched." 

“Mm, sounds very... common,” Marigold grins and her sister snorts into her hand. 

“We know many lords like us, yes. They work hard amidst their vassals. It keeps the lands strong so that we may better serve the crown,” you return evenly.  

Your mother helped you prepare. She coached you to keep your manners and your spine. The latter is much more difficult as you face these ladies and their bobbles with only a ribbon in your hair and a pair of patched gloves. 

“Woodsdam? I think I rode through it once on the way to my grandfather’s summer castle,” Ameri tuts, “it was little more than a swamp.” 

“It must’ve been the spring rains, perhaps, lady,” you offer. 

“Summer house,” she enunciates, “one travels there in the summer.” 

Your cheek twitches at her barbed retort. Very well. You are not used to their sharpness. Their chittering has thus far centered on gossip and the cost of their new caps. 

“A wonder the pauper’s daughter received an invite. Are you certain you can read, lady?” Dorida snipes and looks to the twins for approval. You notice how they all tend to do so. 

“It was sent to my father, Lord Eldon,” your voice quavers. You are not so strong as your mother bid you to be.  

They cackle at your meek response, “the precious maiden of Woodsdam.” 

You put your head down as the activity all around threatens to swallow you up. You wish the ground would rent and you would fall right through. All your excitement has dissipated to a sludge in your veins. You touch your cheek as you try not to show your embarrassment. 

“The Lord of Woodsdam,” a deep voice startles you as boots approach from behind, “is that what I heard?” 

You stiffen up as the ladies before you hush and blink, almost in tandem. They curtsey as their faces wash over in shock and you turn to face the newcomer. A man in a deep blue vest over black sleeves and grey breeches. He wears belt of gold and a circlet across his brow in a similar hue. It is that which betrays his statues. 

You lower your eyes and mimic the other women, mortified to be faced with new king so informally. You would not think him wandering out in the yard. Still, he has vowed to be unlike the former leige. That he would be of the people. 

“King Steven, your majesty,” the others titter in a messy chant and you murmur your own propriety as you back away. You find yourself still to the shoulder of the king as the other ladies give no room for you to join. 

The vision of him stains your mind. He is tall, with dark blond tresses that extend past his neck, and blue eyes which put his own attire to shame. He has a jaw which looks etched in stone and a bearing which matches his rank. He is tall and broad and a finely built knight. 

“It is an honour,” Marcia says most boldly. 

“You may rise,” he allows in a breezy timbre. “I did hear my wife would receive new ladies. Young ladies.” 

“Your majesty,” the murmur rolls across each lip. 

“It is much needed. We have so many established ladies at court and yet we need to think of the future. Of the next generation,” he declares as he emphasizes his words with his large hand. You watch his garnet ring to keep from so brazenly looking him in the face. 

“Certainly, your majesty,” Marcia and Marigold chime in unision. 

“And don’t worry for there are many young lords as well,” the king laughs galely at the quip which makes the ladies, yourself included, blush. “Ah, then, Woodsdam I believe we were speaking of...” 

You blink and glance at the other ladies. They are cowed, unsure if they were overheard in their derision. You hope as much as they that they were not. It is rather unflattering. 

“My father, Lord Eldon,” you explain, “your majesty.” 

“You? You are the young lady of Woodsdam I heard so much of.” 

“You did? Er, your majesty,” you curtsey apologetically; unnecessarily. 

“Certainly, I did. Your father was a great assistance in me holding counsel with the lower lords. He is very patient. “When not about his duty, he spoke of you oft. Though what matters are more important than family?” 

“Yes, your majesty,” you can’t help a smile, “my father is a very kind man.” 

“Kind and courageous. I’m certain you’ve inherited as much,” the king praises, “and these other ladies. The twins who belong to Mawsley, the Countess of Clovers daughter, and the three earls daughters from the White Plains.” 

The ladies each bow their heads as he proclaims them by their forebearers’ titles. You watch from aside, feeling even more out-of-place. The king recites them all proudly as he extends a finger for each. 

“Allow me myself to extend a welcome to Astra. When you are sorted, my wife shall receive you all and have you acquainted with the grounds. I hope you enjoy them, we’ve had the gardeners at work day and night,” he pronounces, “for now, I must be off, for a king has many obligations and not so much time.” 

He bows and turns on his heel, marching off with his shoulder straight and head high. He walks as a soldier does, not some lord. You’ve seen the difference before, more recently in the aftermath of battle. A soldier is more akin to a farmer, much as your father, whereas a Lord tends to keep his steps tight. 

“Wow, oh my,” Dorida fans herself, “he is rather handsome.” 

“Oh yes,” Marcia and Marigold say, the latter forging ahead, “we met him at our father’s castle. He is ever so charming.” 

“Hm, and the queen would love to hear it, I’m certain,” Calliope intones brusquely. 

“The queen is not here,” Ameri sneers, “so what does it matter? Besides, is it so wrong to state a truth?” 

“He is very elegant,” Selene agrees. 

“Much too kind, as well,” Marigold snips, “Woodsdam? He speaks as if it more than some paltry farmhouse.” 

“You’d never even heard of it,” Calliope remarks. 

“And how had you, hm? You seem the bookish type. Perhaps you should leave the maps to the men. What good will a river or road do for a widow’s welp?” 

“Needn’t be cruel,” Calliope rebuffs. 

“Pity if this is the lot they send,” Marcia shakes her head as the sisters share another cryptic look. 

You keep to yourself. That is all you can do. It is better to watch and learn than to leap and land wherever you might. Your mother always said so and she was your best teacher. 

“Right, there must be some maid who might show us to our rooms,” Marigold stands on her toes and waves at each passing servant. “I tire of the sunlight and boorish company.” 

👑

You have two trunks awaiting you in your chambers. Not as the other ladies who had at least a dozen each. Less humble than your lunger are the rooms themselves.

There is an antechamber hung with tapestries showing wildlife and flora, a table set for two and cushioned bench by the window. The bedroom is draped in similar hangings with a four-post bed and a grand hearth. A desk, another bench, a woven carpet, and fine accouterments on square tables. And a closet for the commode as well and a pot in the far corner of the bedchamber. 

If only your mother and father could see this. They would be just as amazed. You can’t help but admire all of it. To touch the curtains as you approach the window and stare off at the afternoon sky. The gardens are a medley of hues; petals and thorns; leaves and dirt. It’s all so wonderful, you can still hardly believe it. 

Seems those other ladies can’t either. You can’t help but think of their words anon. They said so outrightly what you doubted inwardly. You don’t belong here. It must be so clear to them. 

You lean on the ledge and peer down into the garden pathways. It is almost a labyrinth with how intricately they’ve laid out the hedges. You lower yourself down to your elbows and cross your arms as you sigh. 

Your eyes are drawn from the swaying roses to the dark speck that appears below. You squint at first. From the second floor, it is harder to discern. It is the glimmer of gold in his hair and the defined gait that gives away the king. For an instant, you believe you might be dreaming. 

He walks along one path and to the next. There is another with him. A man with darker hair and a stauncher figure. They speak and stop just as they enter a circled walkway centered by a large vase of flowers. The other man talks, though you can hear neither, and the king rubs his chin. 

You should turn away. They might think you an eavesdropper. Oh, too late! You don’t dare move as the king tilts his head. You wouldn’t want to pique his attention. You cannot tell if he has spotted you. Not until he raises a hand and waves. The other man stops and looks to follow the gesture. 

You stand up straight but before you can flee in horror, you recall yourself. It is improper to turn your back to the king. You lift your hand and return the wave. He dips his head and turns to clap his companion’s shoulder, pointing him onward. 

Oh, you hope he is not unhappy. If you pray, perhaps he will not have recognised you. You needn’t an enemy of the king as well. 

[sweet-s0rr0w]

Vintage Drarry Fics

Thought I'd put together a list of some of the old Drarry 'classics' of my teenage years, for anyone interested. All posted between 2001-2006, compiled using my (bad) memory, a lot of googling, fanlore.org and numerous different LJ rec accounts (including the incredible @capiturecs). I checked as best I could, but if anyone knows of any fics that their author doesn't want to be shared, please let me know and I will of course remove.

Please also note that these fics are of their era, when attitudes may have been different, and they may not all be grammatically perfect. I haven't reread all, as my own tastes have changed, but most importantly do note that they may not be tagged - don't blame me when, for example, Harry dies tragically on a rooftop at sunrise...

Hogwarts Era (mostly 5th-7th year)

A Thousand Beautiful Things by Duinn Fionn/geoviki (M, 105k)

Draco Malfoy struggles with changed fortunes, shifted alliances, an ugly war, and an unusual spell, with the help of a concerned professor, an insightful house-elf, and an unexpected Gryffindor friend.

All Bets Are Off by Allegra (R, 53k)

I am SICK of Good-little-innocent!Harry...Enter Playboy!Harry and his Overinflated Ego, a challenge, a bet, a couple of Really Cunning Plans - and there you have it, "Forty days and forty nights", Hogwarts style. Mayhem ensues! 

Angels and Devils by beren (E, 52k)

Harry defeated Voldemort and his act of heroism is famous throughout the wizarding world. He's trying to finish his final year at Hogwarts in peace, but, thanks to the method he chose to destroy The Dark Lord, something peculiar is happening to him, something he never would have expected. It's all rather embarrassing and making his life very complicated.

Artful Facade by Sky Sorceress (T, 66k)

Sometimes you fly too close to the sun and lose your wings. With sixth year approaching, the danger Harry seeks can be found only in the form of Draco Malfoy. What follows is a twist in the line between hatred, love, and need.

Beautiful World by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 70k)

Harry finds out he's going to die on his 16th birthday. He embarks on a journey of self-destructive behaviour and drags Draco along for the ride. 

Beneath You by Cinnamon/Lissadiane (M, 113k)

Draco had no idea that the repercussions of stealing Potter's journal and shoving it down the back of his trousers would be so extreme.

Bond by AnnaFugazzi (M, 173k)

It seems 95% of H/D writers feel compelled to write a "Harry And Draco Are Forced To Be Together By Something Beyond Their Control And Then Unlikely Stuff Happens That Leads To Twoo Wuv" story. Count me among the 95% ;)

Checkmate by Naadi Moonfeather (T, 245k)

Draco has the perfect plan to get Harry Potter and challenges him to a game of Dare Chess. But is it love, or betrayal, he has in mind?

The Cicatrix Cycle by Ivy Blossom (NC-17, long!)

Three parts: Origins, Haven, Belong

Draco In Darkness by Plumeria (T, 41k)

Following an accident in his seventh year, Draco loses his eyesight. After Harry elbows his way into Draco's dark world, both boys find themselves in a strange new friendship, and they each learn new ways to see each other … and themselves.

Eclipse by PhoenixSong/Mijan (T, 287k)

"You're dead, Potter... I'm going to make you pay..." Draco swore his revenge on Harry for Lucius's imprisonment, and Harry all but laughed at him. But Draco is planning more than schoolyard pranks this time. The old rivalry turns deadly when Draco abducts Harry for Voldemort. It's the perfect plan, guaranteeing revenge, power, and prestige, all in one blow. But, when Draco's world turns upside down, the fight to save himself and Harry begins, and the battle will take them both through hell and back. If they come back. 

Friend Like Me by Lady Vader (M, 11k)

Draco's rendition of the love story that never was.

How Harry Potter Got His Groove Back by Durendal/Eleveninches (R, 12k)

Snape tries to hang himself, Draco enters an alternate reality, and Harry Gets a Clue. Humor, SLASH, naughty language, and other Evil Things. Harry/Draco, Snape/James/Lucius.

Irresistible Poison by Rhysenn (PG-13, 124k)

Under the influence of a love potion, Draco learns that poison doesn't always bring death -- there are other ways to suffer and live. Chemical emotion runs feverish as Harry and Draco discover the intoxication of love.

Lettered by pir8fancier (M, 7.8k)

Harry has a secret penpal, whose identity is as plain as the nose on his face. Except he's not wearing his glasses.

Love Under Will by Aja (R, 116k)

In their 5th year, Harry and Draco choose to be with one another; but the story--and the battle-- is just beginning...

playing the game, living the lie by Abaddon (R, 159k)

Set in Sixth Year, both the wizarding and Muggle worlds are threatened as Voldemort plans a final revenge. Past, present and future collide as all must consider where their loyalties lie; who they are, and who they want to be. Amidst it all, Harry and Draco begin a dangerous journey of understanding. Is it possible to leave everything you thought you were behind?

Resolution by Frances Potter (R, 322k)

When you've spent six years fighting evil, all you really want is a quiet time. But when your name is Harry Potter the chances of that are very slim. A series of vignettes chronicling Harry's final six months at Hogwarts. Exams, friends, lovers, Quidditch, the war and Draco all conspire to make the year end seem a very long way away.

Seamus is Seamus and You are Yourself by Ari Munami (PG-13, 31k)

Harry goes through some er... changes in his Sixth Year and everyone, including Draco Malfoy, sits up and takes notice.

Snakes and Lions by GatewayGirl (M, 139k)

When Ron and Hermione get together, they notice only each other. A nightmare prompts Harry to return alone to the empty Chamber of Secrets, and leads to a new look at an old enemy. Harry enjoys the company, but with Bellatrix Lestrange actively hunting him, how far can he trust a Death Eater's son?

Something Impossible by epicylical/Cassandra Claire (PG, 6.4k)

As punishment for an act of vandalism, Draco is forced to perform three tasks to win Harry's forgiveness - only they don't turn out to be exactly the kind of tasks he'd been expecting. With wet shirtless Draco, paint-covered Harry, and Proust-reading Goyle.

Transformation by amalin (E, 98k)

In Harry's sixth year at Hogwarts, he must face the consequences of the attack on the Department of Mysteries and the effects of Voldemort's return. And in doing so, he finds that even your enemies can teach you valuable lessons—about the world, and about yourself.

Walking the Line by SilentAuror (E, 179k)

Sixth year is over and Draco Malfoy is on the run. The war is on and an unwanted assignment is forced upon him by the only people he trusts - and a one-time arch-enemy just may be out to kill him.

Post-Hogwarts

Adagio in G Minor by furiosity (NC-17, 18k)

Seven years after Hogwarts and the war, life continues in the wizarding world. Draco Malfoy is rich, bored, and slightly jaded. Harry Potter is famous, busy, and somewhat disillusioned. They've not seen each other since school ended. What would happen if they were to cross paths again? What if it involved music?

Big Dick, Come Quick [PDF] by Calanthe (NC-17, 204k)

Draco’s got a theory. About sex. And after much searching for the right candidate, it appears that only Harry Potter, his life long enemy, can help him test it out.

Draco's Escort Service by Cheryl Dyson/dysonrules (15, 12k)

Draco's job is to escort travelers through the dangerous, war-torn countryside. Harry Potter is forced to hire him, but his destination isn't quite what Draco expected.

Left My Heart by Emma Grant (E, 85k)

Auror Draco Malfoy has disappeared, and Harry Potter has been sent to San Francisco to find him. 

Malfoy, P.I. by Nancy (R, 60k)

"I'm Draco Malfoy, private investigator. I've seen a lot--I mean a lot, and I'm like sweet seventeen a lot. I thought I'd seen it all, until a pair of green eyes stepped into my office." A noir AU set in L.A. where passion and magic collide. Slashy and sexy.

Queen of Hearts by scoradh (E, 65k)

A spectre is haunting Harry - the responsibility of his destiny. It looms over his future and, more importantly, over the future of his friends. Harry is determined to exorcise this spectre for the greater good, but on the way, he enters into a few unholy alliances.

Tissue of Silver by fearlessdiva (R, 76k)

A love story concerning possessed furniture, black silk pyjamas, courtroom drama, premonitions of doom, assassination attempts, Death Eater yoga, absinthe, bare feet and a sensible werewolf.

Tomorrow, and Tomorrow, and Tomorrow by November Snowflake (M, 58k)

When the long-missing Draco Malfoy turns up at a Ministry field hospital with amnesia, bitter Auror Harry Potter must confront the shadows of their shared past to shed light on a potentially deadly mystery.

Transfigurations by Resonant (E, 71k)

Five years after Voldemort's defeat, Harry returns to England to help re-open Hogwarts.

[idkyetxoxo]

Harwin Strong - A Whisper of Worth

Summary - During her brother's name day celebration, she escapes the court's gossip and encounters a charming Lord, sparking intense jealousy in Harwin. Following her to a secluded field, Harwin passionately asserts her worth deepening their bond beneath the stars.

Pairing - Harwin Strong x Targaryen reader

Warnings - Sexual content (smut!)

Word count - 2238

Masterlist for Harwin • House of the Dragon General Masterlist.

I sat on a chair, a goblet of wine in my hand, surrounded by the ladies of the court who were eagerly sharing gossip and news, both real and imagined.

Their chatter was a relentless drone that seemed to sap every bit of my patience. I sipped the wine, but it felt like a poor remedy for the emptiness gnawing at me. 

The thought of the evening stretching endlessly before me made me wish I could vanish from this scene altogether.

Suddenly, I stood up, startling a few nearby courtiers. I plastered on a wide smile and excused myself, making my way outside where most of the men were occupied with various activities.

It was my brother Aegon's name day. Rhaenyra had cleverly evaded the festivities by feigning illness, despite our father's insistence on her presence. I regretted not doing the same.

As I aimlessly kicked a small pebble, a hand on my shoulder made me jump.

"Princess, I apologize. I did not mean to startle you," said a lord whose face I only vaguely recognized. I laughed lightly, placing a hand over my heart before waving off my surprise.

"It is quite alright, my lord. I was lost in thought," I replied. He smiled warmly at me, a young man with dark hair, piercing dark eyes, a slight tan, and an incredibly chiselled jaw.

"Arryn Blackwood, Princess," he introduced himself, placing a soft kiss on my hand.

I glanced around, my eyes briefly meeting my father's as he played with Aegon, then locking onto another pair of eyes, those of Harwin Strong, who watched me intently. I frowned slightly, shaking off the weight of his gaze and turning my attention back to Arryn.

"You seemed rather bored, Princess. Is something not to your liking?" Arryn asked, a small laugh escaping his lips.

"I had hoped my displeasure wasn't so apparent," I admitted, chuckling softly. Arryn laughed along with me, his charm easing some of my earlier irritation.

We continued to talk, his lightheartedness a welcome distraction. Yet, I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched, Harwin's eyes never straying far from me. He was undoubtedly jealous, though he tried to hide it. 

After all, he knew me better than anyone, and the sight of me engaging with another man was more than he could bear.

"Perhaps it is something I can remedy," Arryn shamelessly flirted, his voice dripping with charm. 

I contemplated shutting him down or playing along, deciding that the latter sounded far more entertaining. Besides, I thrilled at the sensation of jealousy emanating from the pair of eyes glued to us.

"You are quite bold, Lord Blackwood," I said, placing my hand briefly on his arm. He responded with a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck, clearly taken aback by my unexpected reaction.

"I apologize, Princess. It is not often I am graced with the pleasure of speaking to such a beautiful lady," he said, his eyes sincere. A slight blush tinged my cheeks, and I smiled, enjoying the flattery.

"You are too kind," I replied, thanking him with a warm smile. 

We continued our playful banter, exchanging flirtatious comments and subtle touches. The courtly atmosphere seemed to fade away, replaced by the excitement of our interaction.

As our conversation flowed, my eyes drifted towards Harwin again. He stood rigid, clutching a dagger in his hand, his knuckles white from the pressure. The intensity of his gaze was palpable, a mixture of frustration and longing that only added to the thrill of the moment.

"Lord Blackwood, it has been a pleasure, but I must bid you farewell for now," I said, gently withdrawing my arm from his.

"The pleasure has been all mine, Princess. Until we meet again," Arryn said, bowing slightly as he kissed my hand once more.

I turned and walked towards the stables, feeling Harwin's eyes follow me the entire way. I mounted a horse with ease, casting a final glance back to see Harwin standing rigid, his expression a storm of emotions.

The ride provided a welcome escape. The wind in my hair and the open space around me offered a sense of freedom and exhilaration. I pushed my horse into a gallop, heading towards a large, empty field.

As I reached the field, I slowed my pace, letting the horse trot leisurely. 

The vast expanse of the field stretched out before me, a sea of green under the setting sun. I dismounted and walked a little way, feeling the soft grass under my feet and breathing in the fresh, crisp air.

Sitting down on the grass, I gazed up at the sky, watching the clouds drift lazily. The field, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, seemed like a world apart.

The sound of approaching hooves made me look behind myself. As expected, Harwin rode up and came to a stop next to me.

"Ser Harwin," I greeted nonchalantly.

"Princess," he replied, dismounting his horse with ease. He stood over me, his presence imposing.

"You seem angry," I said with a teasing smile, biting my lip. He exhaled sharply, his frustration evident.

"Maybe I am," he admitted, his voice tight. I smiled, leaning back on my elbows and stretching my legs out in front of me, savouring his reaction.

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees beside me, and I gasped quietly. With effortless movements, he straddled me, his hands pushing my elbows back, forcing me to lay flat in the grass.

"Don't toy with men who aren't worth your time," he said, brushing a strand of hair out of my face. His touch was surprisingly gentle despite the intensity of his words.

"Why not?" I whispered, my voice barely audible as he cupped my face in his hands.

"Because you are worth so much more," he said softly, his eyes locked onto mine. I smiled, a mix of defiance and anticipation.

He leaned down, capturing my lips in a searing kiss. His tongue danced with mine, exploring and claiming with a fervour that took my breath away. His hands threaded through my hair, holding me close as if he feared I might slip away.

The kiss deepened, becoming more urgent and demanding. I responded with equal passion, my hands reaching up to grasp his shoulders, pulling him closer. 

Harwin pulled back slightly, his breath ragged. "You drive me mad, you know that?" he murmured, his forehead resting against mine.

"Good," I replied with a mischievous grin, my fingers tracing the contours of his face. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

He chuckled, a sound that sent shivers down my spine. "You're insufferable," he said, but there was a softness in his eyes that belied his words.

"And yet, here you are," I pointed out, my voice teasing.

"Indeed," he said, his tone turning serious. "Because no matter how much you frustrate me, I can not will myself to stay away from you."

I looked up at him, my heart swelling with a mix of emotions, desire, affection, and a deep-seated connection that words couldn't fully capture. 

"Then don't," I whispered, my voice full of invitation and promise.

He kissed me again, slower this time, savouring the moment. As his lips moved against mine, I felt a sense of certainty settle over me. 

He began removing his clothing slowly, a tantalizingly deliberate pace that made my pulse quicken. His eyes never left mine, a smile playing on his lips as each garment fell away. The sight of his bare skin caused a warm flush to spread across my cheeks.

His hands moved to untie the laces of my dress next. He gently peeled away the layers, the cool air of the empty field brushing against my exposed skin.

"So this is what I'm worth?" I asked, my voice a mix of curiosity and teasing challenge as he laid me back onto the soft grass. His fingers trailed down my body, sending shivers through me as they tickled my skin.

"No," he replied, parting my legs with an ease that left me breathless. I lifted my head in confusion, my gaze searching his for an explanation.

"Your worth isn't imaginable, Princess," he said, his voice a husky whisper. His fingers teased my entrance, eliciting a gasp from me.

Harwin's touch was both tender and commanding, a contradiction that drove me wild. He knew exactly how to coax the most exquisite reactions from me, his fingers worked their magic with practised skill. 

My breath hitched, and I felt my body respond to his every movement, arching towards him, craving more.

"You deserve nothing less than complete devotion," he murmured, his lips trailing soft kisses along my inner thighs, each one sending jolts of pleasure through me. "And I intend to give you just that."

I moaned softly, my hands tangling in his hair as he continued.

Harwin's mouth found its way to my core, his tongue exploring and teasing with a skill that left me trembling. My hips moved of their own accord, seeking more of the exquisite pleasure he offered. His hands gripped my thighs, holding me steady as he worked, his eyes flicking up to watch my reactions with a satisfied gleam.

"Harwin," I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He paused, looking up at me with a grin that was equal parts mischief and adoration. "Yes, Princess?"

"Don't stop," I managed to say, my words laced with desperation and need.

He chuckled softly, the sound vibrating through me. "As you wish."

With renewed focus, he continued his attentions, his tongue and fingers driving me to the brink of madness. My moans grew louder, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable crescendo. And then, with a final, skilful flick of his tongue, I shattered, the waves of my climax crashing over me in a torrent of bliss.

As I lay there, panting and spent, Harwin crawled up my body, his expression one of pure satisfaction. He kissed me deeply. 

"You see, Princess," he whispered against my mouth, "your worth is beyond measure. And I will spend every moment proving that to you."

I smiled up at him, my heart full of affection and gratitude. "Then don't stop," I whispered back, my fingers tracing patterns on his skin. "Prove it to me, again and again."

Harwin's eyes darkened with desire as he positioned himself above me, his gaze locked onto mine. Slowly, he pressed himself against my entrance, his movements deliberate and sensual. 

He entered me with exquisite slowness, a low groan escaping his lips as he did. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and connection that left me gasping. Harwin moved with deliberate care, each thrust slow and measured, his eyes never leaving mine.

"Feel that?" he whispered, his voice a husky murmur in my ear. "Every inch of you belongs to me."

I nodded, unable to form coherent words, my body responding to his every movement. He continued his slow, sensual rhythm, each thrust deep and purposeful, driving me closer to the edge once more. 

My hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and relax beneath my fingers, the heat of his skin against mine.

Harwin's mouth found my neck, placing gentle kisses along my collarbone, his breath hot and ragged. His hands explored my body, caressing and teasing in ways that made my pulse race. 

The connection between us was intense, a bond that felt unbreakable in that moment.

"You are everything," he murmured, his lips brushing against my ear. "And I will spend my life showing you just how much you mean to me."

With each slow, sensual thrust, he drove us both higher, the pleasure building to a fever pitch. The world around us ceased to exist, replaced by the raw, intimate connection we shared. My moans mixed with his groans, a symphony of desire that echoed in the empty field.

As the tension built within me once more, I clung to Harwin, my nails digging into his back. He increased his pace slightly, the rhythm still measured but with an added urgency that drove me wild. I felt the familiar coil of pleasure tightening within me, each thrust pushing me closer to the edge.

"Harwin," I breathed my voice a desperate plea.

He responded with a deep, lingering kiss, his tongue exploring mine with the same slow intensity as his movements. The kiss was a promise, a declaration of the depths of his feelings for me. 

As he broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against mine, his breath mingling with mine.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice filled with emotion.

With a final, powerful thrust, he sent me over the edge, my climax crashing over me with a force that left me trembling. Harwin followed soon after, a deep groan escaping his lips as he found his own release. 

We held each other tightly, our bodies entwined, the aftershocks of pleasure rippling through us.

We lay there in the grass, the cool night air a stark contrast to the heat between us. Harwin's arms wrapped around me, holding me close as we caught our breath. The stars above us shone brightly, a silent witness to the profound connection we had shared.

"Don't ever forget your worth, Princess," Harwin said softly, his fingers gently tracing patterns on my back. "You are everything to me."

"I won't," I replied, my voice filled with contentment. "As long as you're here to remind me."

We stayed like that for a while, basking in the afterglow of our lovemaking, the world around us forgotten. In that moment, under the vast expanse of the night sky, we were simply two souls entwined, bound by love and desire.

A/n - giggling because wdym 'you deserve nothing less than complete devotion' like WDYM by that..

[callsigns-haze]

Bad Idea, right???

Pairing: Azriel x reader Warning: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and emotional turmoil SMUT. Summary: After a frantic search, Cassian and his companions discover YN and Azriel's hidden rendezvous, realizing that love finds a way even in the most unexpected of places.

Part 2

YN stood at the edge of the bustling Night Court party, observing the revelry with a sense of detachment. As a female soldier in Cassian's armies, she was more accustomed to the clang of swords and the heat of battle than the swirl of music and laughter that filled the extravagant hall.

Rhysand, the High Lord of the Night Court, was engrossed in conversation with his mate, Feyre, their love evident in the intimate way they danced together. YN admired their bond from afar, but she couldn't shake the feeling of being out of place amidst the festivities.

"YN," Cassian's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she turned to face him, grateful for the familiar presence of her commander. "Still not a fan of these parties, huh?"

YN shrugged, a wry smile playing on her lips. "You know me, Cassian. I prefer action to idle chatter."

Cassian chuckled, understanding glinting in his eyes. "I can't argue with that. Speaking of action, we need to discuss the upcoming mission. Let's find somewhere quieter to talk."

As they moved away from the crowded dance floor, YN's gaze inadvertently drifted to the shadows where Azriel, the mysterious spymaster of the Night Court, stood observing the festivities with his customary silent vigilance. There was something captivating about him, something she couldn't quite put into words.

Cassian followed her gaze and grinned knowingly. "Ah, I see you've noticed Azriel. Careful, YN. He's not one to be trifled with."

YN tore her gaze away, feeling a flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks. "I wasn't... I mean, it's not like that."

Cassian raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing in his eyes. "Sure, YN. Whatever you say."

They found a secluded alcove where they could discuss the details of the upcoming mission in relative privacy. As they delved into strategy and logistics, YN couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. Glancing around discreetly, she caught Azriel's dark gaze lingering on her for a moment before he turned away, disappearing into the shadows once more.

Despite her best efforts to focus on the task at hand, YN found her thoughts drifting back to Azriel. There was a magnetic pull between them, a connection she couldn't ignore. But she pushed the thought aside, knowing that their respective roles in the Night Court's hierarchy made any sort of personal entanglement impossible.

As the night wore on and the party continued in full swing, YN excused herself from Cassian's company, citing exhaustion from the day's training exercises. Making her way through the throngs of revelers, she found herself drawn once again to the shadows where Azriel lingered.

"Mind if I join you?" she asked, stepping into the darkness beside him.

Azriel regarded her with his trademark unreadable expression before inclining his head in silent invitation. They stood in companionable silence, watching the festivities unfold in the distance.

"Thank you for the dance," Azriel said suddenly, his voice soft but carrying a weight of unspoken meaning.

YN's heart skipped a beat, surprised by his unexpected words. "I didn't realize you were watching."

Azriel shrugged, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. "I always watch."

There was a vulnerability in his admission that took YN by surprise, a glimpse beneath the stoic facade he presented to the world. In that moment, she felt a spark of connection between them, a shared understanding born of their experiences as warriors in a world plagued by darkness.

As the music swirled around them, YN and Azriel found themselves drawn into a tentative dance, their movements graceful yet tentative, as if testing the waters of this newfound connection.

Azriel led with a steady hand, guiding YN through the steps of the dance with a quiet confidence that belied the shadows that clung to him like a second skin. As they moved together, they exchanged light conversation, a rare moment of respite amidst the chaos of their respective duties.

"How is it to work as Cassian's right hand?" Azriel asked, his voice soft but tinged with genuine curiosity.

YN smiled, the warmth of his gaze melting away the walls she had built around herself. "It's... challenging, to say the least. Cassian has a way of pushing you to your limits, of always expecting the best from you. But he's also fiercely loyal and protective of those under his command. I couldn't ask for a better leader."

Azriel nodded thoughtfully, his eyes betraying a hint of admiration. "He speaks highly of you. Says you're one of the best soldiers he's ever trained."

A flush of pride warmed YN's cheeks at the unexpected praise. "Coming from Cassian, that means a lot."

"And what about you?" YN asked, turning the conversation back to Azriel. "How is it to be a High Lord's spy? I imagine it comes with its own set of challenges."

Azriel's expression grew solemn, the weight of his responsibilities evident in the depths of his dark eyes. "It's a lonely existence, living in the shadows, always watching, always listening. But it's necessary. Someone has to keep an eye on the darker corners of our world, to ensure that Prythian remains safe from those who would seek to destroy it."

YN reached out, a gentle touch against his arm, a silent gesture of understanding. "You're not alone, Azriel. Not as long as you have allies who are willing to stand by your side."

For a moment, they danced in silence, the music a soft melody in the background as they lost themselves in the rhythm of each other's presence. In that moment, amidst the swirling dance of light and shadow, YN and Azriel found a fleeting sense of peace, a respite from the chaos of their world.

And though they knew that their duties would soon call them back to the harsh realities of their respective roles, for now, they allowed themselves to simply be, to exist in this fragile moment of connection that bound them together in ways they could not yet comprehend.

As YN and Azriel continued their dance, their movements growing more fluid and effortless with each passing moment, they were unaware of the watchful eyes that observed them from afar.

Rhysand and Feyre approached Cassian with matching expressions of concern etched on their faces. Cassian greeted them with a nod, his attention momentarily diverted from the dance unfolding before him.

"Something seems off about YN and Azriel," Rhysand remarked, his voice low but laced with a hint of unease. "Have you noticed?"

Cassian furrowed his brow, tearing his gaze away from YN and Azriel to focus on his High Lord and his mate. "What do you mean?"

Feyre glanced over at YN and Azriel, her eyes narrowing slightly as she observed their interaction. "They're dancing. Talking. It's... unusual."

Rhysand's gaze darkened, a flicker of concern passing through his eyes. "Azriel doesn't dance. And YN rarely attends these parties. Something must be going on."

Cassian's expression hardened, a protective instinct rising within him as he watched YN and Azriel move together with an intimacy that seemed out of place amidst the opulent surroundings of the Night Court. "I'll keep an eye on them. Make sure everything's alright."

Rhysand, Feyre, and Cassian exchanged puzzled glances as they realized that YN and Azriel had vanished from their sight. A sense of unease settled over them, the unanswered questions lingering in the air like a silent accusation.

"Where do you think they went?" Feyre asked, her voice tight with concern.

Cassian's jaw clenched, his instincts screaming at him to find YN and ensure her safety. "I don't know, but we need to find them. Something doesn't feel right."

Rhysand nodded in agreement, his expression grave as he surveyed the bustling crowd around them. "Spread out. Look for any sign of them. We can't afford to let them wander off unattended."

With a shared sense of urgency, they dispersed into the throng of partygoers, their eyes scanning the room for any trace of the missing pair.

Meanwhile, in the quiet seclusion of Azriel's private room, YN and Azriel found themselves alone at last, the noise of the party fading into the distance as they closed the door behind them.

Azriel turned to face YN, his gaze intense as he searched her eyes for any sign of hesitation. "Are you sure about this?"

YN met his gaze with unwavering determination, her heart pounding in her chest as she took a step closer to him. "I've never been more sure of anything in my life."

Without another word, Azriel closed the distance between them, his lips meeting hers in a fierce and passionate kiss that left them both breathless. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of them entwined in a tangle of desire and longing.

As they surrendered to the heat of their passion, they knew that their union was forbidden, that their love could never be openly acknowledged in the unforgiving world of the fae. But in the darkness of Azriel's private room, they were free to be themselves, free to love each other without fear or judgment.

As Azriel pushed YN gently onto the soft mattress, a rush of anticipation coursed through both of them. The air between them crackled with desire, the weight of their forbidden love hanging heavy in the quiet room.

With practiced hands, Azriel deftly removed YN's corset, his touch sending shivers down her spine as the fabric fell away, leaving her exposed and vulnerable beneath his gaze. His eyes roamed over her body, tracing the curve of her hips and the swell of her breasts with a hunger that mirrored her own.

"You're beautiful," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "More beautiful than I could ever have imagined."

YN's breath caught in her throat at his words, a flush of heat spreading across her cheeks as she met his intense gaze. The weight of his admiration washed over her, filling her with a heady sense of power and desire.

But as Azriel's hands began to explore her body with a gentle urgency, YN grew impatient for his touch, the ache between her thighs becoming almost unbearable.

"Please," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breathless plea. "I need you."

With a low growl of desire, Azriel gave in to her request, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss that left them both gasping for air. As their bodies entwined in a passionate embrace, they surrendered to the heat of their desire, losing themselves in the ecstasy of each other's touch.

Azriel's lips trailed lower, leaving a trail of fire in their wake as they caressed YN's shoulders and neck. His touch was electrifying, igniting a hunger within her that she had never known before. With each kiss, each gentle nip of his teeth, he sent waves of pleasure coursing through her body.

As his lips descended further, Azriel's fingers began to toy with YN's nipples, eliciting a soft gasp of pleasure from her lips. His touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers tracing delicate circles around her sensitive peaks, coaxing them to stiffen beneath his touch.

YN arched her back in response, offering herself up to him with a fervor that matched his own. The ache between her thighs grew more intense with each passing moment, aching for the release that only Azriel could give her.

With a low growl of desire, Azriel continued his descent, his lips blazing a trail of fire across her skin as he kissed lower and lower. His fingers continued to toy with her nipples, teasing and tormenting her until she thought she might lose her mind with longing.

And then, finally, his lips found their destination, trailing lower and lower until he reached the apex of her thighs. With a reverence that bordered on worship, he pressed his lips to her most intimate place, his tongue teasing and tasting her with a hunger that matched her own.

YN cried out in ecstasy as Azriel's tongue danced over her folds, sending bolts of pleasure shooting through her body. His fingers continued to toy with her nipples, driving her closer and closer to the edge of oblivion with each passing moment.

In that moment, as Azriel worshipped her body with a passion that bordered on divine, YN knew that she had found paradise in his arms. And as the flames of desire consumed them both, they surrendered to the ecstasy of their passion, lost in a world of sensation and pleasure that was all their own.

As Azriel delved deeper into her, YN's moans grew louder, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls of the quiet room. She arched her back, pressing herself closer to him, her fingers tangling in his hair as she urged him on.

"Azriel," she gasped, her voice raw with need. "Yes, like that... don't stop."

Azriel's tongue flicked and teased her sensitive flesh, his fingers matching the rhythm of his movements as he drove her closer and closer to the edge of ecstasy. He lost himself in the taste and scent of her, his senses overwhelmed by the heady intoxication of her desire.

With each flick of his tongue, each thrust of his fingers, YN felt herself spiraling higher and higher, teetering on the brink of release. She clung to him desperately, her body trembling with the force of her need as she chased the elusive peak of pleasure that hovered just out of reach.

And then, with a cry that bordered on desperation, YN shattered into a million pieces, her entire body convulsing with the force of her release. Azriel continued to pleasure her through the waves of ecstasy, prolonging her pleasure until she thought she might lose her mind with the intensity of it all.

As YN slowly came down from the dizzying heights of pleasure, she felt Azriel withdraw from her, leaving her feeling strangely empty and bereft. She blinked, her vision still hazy with the remnants of her orgasm, and when she looked down, she couldn't help but gasp in surprise at the sight before her.

Azriel's length was impressive, to say the least, standing proud and unyielding between them. YN's eyes widened at the sight, her cheeks flushing with a mixture of embarrassment and desire as she took in the size of him.

Azriel chuckled softly at her reaction, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched her gaze linger on him. "Like what you see?"

YN tore her gaze away, feeling a blush creeping up her cheeks at being caught staring. "I... I've never seen anything like it before."

Azriel's grin widened, a teasing glint in his eyes as he leaned closer to her. "Is that so? You're drooling, you know."

YN's cheeks grew even hotter at his playful taunt, and she quickly wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, mortified at her own lack of control.

"I am not!" she protested, though her embarrassment only seemed to amuse Azriel even more.

"Sure you're not," he teased, his voice dripping with mock innocence. "But don't worry, love. I promise I'll take good care of you."

As he spoke, Azriel leaned in closer, his lips brushing against hers in a tender kiss that sent sparks flying through YN's veins. In that moment, any lingering embarrassment was forgotten, replaced by a hunger that burned hotter than ever before.

As Azriel slipped into her, YN felt a powerful stretch unlike anything she had ever experienced before. A sharp intake of breath escaped her lips as she felt him filling her completely, her body adjusting to accommodate his size. The sensation was intense, overwhelming, and she couldn't help but cry out, a mixture of pleasure and discomfort echoing in her voice.

Azriel paused, concern flickering in his eyes as he saw the tears welling up in YN's eyes. He cooed softly, his voice filled with tenderness as he brushed away the tears with his thumb.

"Shh, love, it's okay," he whispered, his lips pressing gentle kisses against her forehead. "I've got you. Just relax and breathe."

YN nodded, trying to focus on the reassuring warmth of Azriel's touch as she willed herself to relax. With each shallow breath, she felt herself beginning to adjust to the sensation of him inside her, the discomfort slowly giving way to a burgeoning sense of pleasure.

Sensing her readiness, Azriel began to move, his thrusts slow and steady as he explored the depths of her desire. With each movement, he delved deeper, pushing her to new heights of ecstasy with each powerful thrust.

As YN surrendered to the pleasure coursing through her veins, she felt a sense of liberation unlike anything she had ever known before. In Azriel's arms, she felt safe, cherished, and desired in ways she had never thought possible.

And as they moved together in perfect harmony, lost in the rhythm of their shared passion, YN knew that she had found something truly special in Azriel. Something worth holding onto, no matter where their desires may lead them.

As their bodies moved together in a symphony of passion, YN felt herself teetering on the edge of ecstasy once again. Each thrust of Azriel's hips sent bolts of pleasure shooting through her, igniting a fire within her that threatened to consume her whole.

"Azriel," she moaned, her voice a breathless plea as she neared the pinnacle of her desire. "Oh gods, Azriel, I'm close."

Azriel's movements grew more urgent, his own desire burning brightly in his eyes as he chased his own release alongside hers. He leaned in closer, his lips finding hers in a searing kiss that stole her breath away.

"Come for me, YN," he whispered against her lips, his voice raw with need. "Let go, love. I've got you."

With one final, powerful thrust, YN felt herself shatter into a million pieces, her entire body convulsing with the force of her release. She cried out Azriel's name like a prayer, her voice echoing off the walls of the quiet room as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.

Azriel followed soon after, his own release washing over him like a tidal wave as he buried himself deep inside her, his body trembling with the intensity of his desire.

For a timeless moment, they lay wrapped in each other's arms, lost in the blissful aftermath of their passion. And as they drifted back to reality, their hearts still pounding in their chests, they knew that they had found something truly special in each other.

In the quiet intimacy of Azriel's private room, amidst the shadows of the Night Court, YN and Azriel had discovered a love that transcended the boundaries of duty and destiny. And as they lay tangled together in the aftermath of their passion, they knew that no matter what the future held, their love would endure, eternal and unbreakable.

---

Outside Azriel's room, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre continued their frantic search for YN and Azriel, their concern growing with each passing moment. Rhysand attempted to reach out to them telepathically, but his efforts were met with silence, adding to their growing sense of unease.

"They're not answering," Rhysand said, his voice tight with worry. "I can't sense them anywhere in the palace."

Cassian's jaw clenched, his instincts screaming at him to find YN and ensure her safety. "We need to keep looking. They can't have gone far."

But just as they were about to continue their search, a familiar voice cut through the tension like a knife.

"Looking for someone?"

They turned to see Mor standing in the hallway, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. Cassian's expression darkened as he realized the implications of her words.

"What do you know, Mor?" he demanded, his voice betraying his frustration.

Mor laughed, a musical sound that grated on Cassian's nerves. "Oh, nothing much. Just that I saw Azriel and his lover sneaking off into his private room a little while ago."

Cassian's eyes widened in disbelief, his mind racing as he processed Mor's words. "His lover? You mean YN?"

Mor nodded, her grin widening at the realization that she had caught them in the act. "That's the one. Looks like they found a way to entertain themselves without us after all."

Rhysand exchanged a knowing glance with Cassian and Feyre, a sense of relief washing over them at the knowledge that YN and Azriel were safe, if not a little indisposed.

"Well, I suppose we can give them some privacy," Rhysand said, his voice tinged with amusement. "They've earned it."

With that, they turned and made their way back down the hallway, leaving YN and Azriel to their own devices in the quiet seclusion of Azriel's private room. And though they may not have found them where they expected, they knew that wherever YN and Azriel were, they were together, lost in the depths of their shared passion and desire.

As Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre made their way back through the halls of the Night Court, a mixture of emotions swirled within them. Cassian's initial frustration gave way to relief knowing that YN was safe, albeit in a situation he hadn't anticipated. Rhysand's amusement lingered, tempered by a sense of understanding and respect for the bond between YN and Azriel. Feyre, ever perceptive, offered a knowing smile, her own experiences with passion and desire coloring her reaction.

Once they were out of earshot, Rhysand turned to Cassian and Feyre, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Well, it seems our concern was unwarranted. YN and Azriel have found their own way of... entertaining themselves."

Cassian couldn't help but chuckle, the tension of their search dissipating in the wake of Mor's revelation. "I suppose we should have known better. Those two are always full of surprises, and hate parties."

Feyre nodded in agreement, her lips quirking into a knowing smile. "The bond finds a way, even in the most unexpected places."

With a shared sense of understanding, they continued on their way, their footsteps echoing through the empty halls of the Night Court. And though they may not have found YN and Azriel where they expected, they knew that their bond was strong enough to weather any storm, to overcome any obstacle that stood in their way.

As they returned to the festivities, their minds filled with thoughts of love and desire, Cassian, Rhysand, and Feyre couldn't help but feel a sense of warmth and happiness for YN and Azriel. For in a world filled with darkness and uncertainty, they had found a beacon of light in each other's arms, a love that would endure for all eternity.

-----

As YN and Azriel lay entwined in the quiet intimacy of Azriel's private room, they revealed in the aftermath of their passion, their bodies still humming with the echoes of their shared ecstasy.

Azriel brushed a stray lock of hair away from YN's face, his touch gentle as he traced the curve of her cheek with his fingertips. "Are you alright?" he asked softly, concern flickering in his eyes.

YN nodded, a contented smile playing on her lips as she snuggled closer to him, reveling in the warmth of his embrace. "I'm more than alright. I've never felt better."

Azriel's lips curved into a tender smile as he pressed a gentle kiss against her forehead. "Good. You deserve nothing less than absolute happiness."

In that moment, as they lay wrapped in each other's arms, YN felt a sense of peace wash over her, a feeling of contentment unlike anything she had ever known before. With Azriel by her side, she felt invincible, ready to face whatever challenges the future may hold.

But even as they basked in the glow of their newfound love, they knew that their time together was fleeting, that the realities of their world would soon come crashing back down upon them. Duty and responsibility beckoned, pulling them back into the harsh light of day where their love would remain a secret, hidden away from prying eyes.

Yet, for now, in the quiet sanctuary of Azriel's private room, they allowed themselves to simply be, to exist in this fragile moment of connection that bound them together in ways they could not yet comprehend.

And as they drifted off to sleep, their bodies entwined in a tangle of limbs and hearts beating as one, they knew that no matter what the future held, their love would endure, eternal and unbreakable, a beacon of hope in a world consumed by shadows.

Tagging some:

@callsign-magnolia

@kmc1989

@hardballoonlove

@senawashere

@hookslove1592

@marvel-molly

[mswyrr]

why did president snow laugh as he died?

imo because katniss proved dr gaul and him wrong in the end. and he loved it. how wonderful, to be wrong and know the future will be better. what a wonderful way to be destroyed, how epic. knowing that justice doesn't sleep forever, that it does actually exist, that lucy gray was right and some things are "written in the stars," even if it is killing you - it means the world isn't the shithole you convinced yourself it was.

his granddaughter isn't going to be forced into her own Games or tortured or etc. there is life after him and it's better and good for it. good for katniss for refusing the darkness and fear and paranoia and survival-justifies-anything that consumed him. even though it tempted her.

imo i see them as very similar people as teens - and 80something him keeping his word to never lie to katniss is what was left of the boy who cared so much about being "honorable" (like katniss cares about "owing" and being honorable). and that one single solitary spot of light left in him is katniss' dark side telling her the truth nobody else will - about coin, about what is coming. and she uses that to set panem free from what his descent into darkness made it and what coin would make it. and he's glad to be wrong. it's freeing.

as poet jack gilbert put it "If the locomotive of the Lord runs us down,/ we should give thanks that the end has magnitude."

or to quote the kind of folk songs collins references throughout THG:

Well, you may throw your rock, and hide your hand Workin' in the dark against your fellow man But as sure as God made black and white What's done in the dark will be brought to the light

You can run on for a long time Run on for a long time Run on for a long time Sooner or later, God'll cut you down Sooner or later, God'll cut you down

if fate/god/lucy gray's ghost sends an angel to cut him down, well -- how marvelous that is, how strange and unexpected after a lifetime of believing heinous bullshit is all there is, all people can ever aspire to. and the end had magnitude.

[this meta is inspired by @lonelyroommp3's lovely video of Donald Sutherland's comments on snow's pov on katniss]

[thewulf]

Am I Wrong? || Aragorn

Summary: Request: Could you write something about (fem)reader who's part of the fellowship and really close to Strider? When they split up to find Frodo after Boromir blows the horn, reader goes with Merry and Pippin and gets separated from Strider.... Read Rest Here

A/N: Picking up when the group reunites in Isengard after Treebeard/Hobbits/Reader sack the place :) This is really sweet and fluffy, thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !!

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 2.7k +

TW: General LOTR triggers, anxiety, fear, kidnapping, orcs,

Aragorn followed behind Gandalf as he led the small group to Isengard to deal with the dark Wizard himself. What he wasn’t expecting was to run into another part of the Fellowship after so being separated for so long.

He heard the Hobbits before he saw you standing there, radiant as ever, “I feel like I’m back at the Green Dragon after a hard day’s work.” Pippen spoke with his pipe happily placed in his mouth relieved the events of Isengard were over more than anything.

Merry spoke next, “Only, you’ve never done a hard day’s work.” That’s when he heard your bubbly laughter in response to the usual joking hobbits who were clearly very inebriated. You on the other hand seemed totally in control of the situation.

Aragorn’s heart pounded in his chest as he spotted you standing with your side facing him chatting happily with the two Hobbits that stole you away from him. You were alive. Somehow more beautiful than he ever remembered you being. His eyes scanned up and down your figure making sure they truly weren’t deceiving him. You were here in Isengard. Merry and Pippen too.

Merry stood, almost falling over, shouting at them with rosy, red cheeks, “Welcome my Lords, to Isengard!” You turned with the biggest smile on your face. Once your eyes landed on Aragorn’s you couldn’t take them away. Your smile grew as his mouth dropped in shock seeing you standing there alive and well. He couldn’t track you. He thought the worst of it. He knew right then that he had to tell you. He loved you. So deeply. He never knew if he was going to see you again, he thought the worst of the Orcs after not being able to find your tracks with the Hobbits.

“Y/N.” He spoke before nearly shoving the Hobbits away from where you were standing. He needed to be right next to you. Your smile turned to one of focus as you took him in after too long apart. Truly, you knew you loved him too. You wished to never spend another night away from your Strider. He was your home and comfort. He became your person without you even knowing it.

Without another word you through your arms around him tightly, bringing him in for an unexpected embrace. Unafraid of all the glances and knowing smiles from the fellowship and other men around you. You couldn’t seem to care about that right now, you’d deal with the embarrassment later, “Strider. What are you doing here?”

Before he could answer you Gimli shouted from behind the reunion, “You young rascals! A merry hunt you’ve led us on… and now we find you feasting and… and smoking!”

After dropping your arms from around his neck, you stepped around your missed companion taking offense to his words, “They’ve earned it Gimli!” You only smiled bigger once you felt Striders hand resting on the small of your back. He had always been protective of you but never so forward with it. The two of you had pined from afar but never acted on it as that would be seen as improper. But that was then. That was before he had feared the worst. You were alive. Breathing right in front of him with the most precious blush sitting on your cheeks. Yeah, he knew it was over for him. He needed you and was tired of trying to hide it.

Merry cheered with his pipe after you spoke and before Pippen tuned in, “We are sitting on a field of victory enjoying a few well-earned comforts.” He giggled in his non-sober state, “The salted pork is particularly good.” Pippen added for good measure knowing it would get under his dwarf friend’s skin.

You nodded along with them giggling yourself, “It is indeed.” You saw the gleam in Striders eye like he was trying not to laugh at the situation they had found themselves in. The plan certainly wasn’t running into the three of you while in an inebriated state. Aragorn knew you well and currently you were particularly giggly, a sign you’d partaken in some of their endeavors even if you tried to deny it.

The Hobbits waved their friends into Isengard, “We’re under orders from Treebeard who’s taken over management of Isengard.” Merry led the group in leaving Strider standing next to you holding onto the reigns of his horse. After the two of you shared a few moments just staring at the other he finally decided to speak to you. Neither of you were willing to follow the group at that moment. The two of you had a reunion to attend to before dealing with Saruman.

“I thought you were dead.” He admitted to you. Aragorn couldn’t meet your eyes as you just looked at him with a bit of bemusement forming along your tapered smile.

You tisked at him shaking your head, “You think so little of me Strider, no?” A growing smirk was playing at your lips as you studied his downtrodden expression.

His eyes finally looked into yours again, “Never, you know this. But I… I could not find your tracks along the Hobbits…”

“You did not think I would cover my tracks?” You eyebrows rose, challenging him now, “I thought you have always said I learned from the best?” Referring to him, naturally.

He let out a lengthy laugh. The tension in his shoulders released seeing you as the same person he thought he lost only a few weeks prior. Even though it had only been a few weeks he knew he could never part from you for that long again. He was a fool and only he came to realize that once you had slipped through his fingertips after getting taken by the Orcs. You didn’t hear his yell for you as he watched you fight. But even you, one of the best Rangers he knew, couldn’t overcome so many of them all at once. And just as he saw you, you had vanished in front of him along with the Hobbits. He had never felt such a failure before seeing you disappear with the creatures you had detested for as long as you’ve been alive.

“I should have never doubted you.” He spoke with that twinkle in his eye. He adored you, through and through. A slow gulp overtook him as he studied you. He always knew you were beautiful, ever since you met him all those years ago. But now, after it took him losing you to realize that he was in love with you, he understood just how stunning you truly were.

You nodded with that confidence he had adored in you, “Aye. Thought you would have learned by now Master Strider.” Tossing him a wink even you did not know where this overly friendly attitude towards your partner was coming from. That’s all he was and could ever be, just a partner in work.

He bowed his head with a similar smirk gracing his face, “Indeed. Forgive me, Y/N. But I was terrified. I thought I had lost you. My thought process was… less than rational.” When his eyes met yours once more a sad smile parted his lips. It hit you that he truly thought he might have actually lost you. Thinking of what you would do had you thought you lost him had you in an instant fit of tears. There would be no rationality in your actions had you thought of Strider dying.

His striking blue eyes sent a familiar shiver down your spine. You gave him a quick nod, “I will always forgive you, my king.”

Strider let out that familiar laugh that you had adored so much. The one that sent a shiver though your body, “It wounds me that you mock me so easily, my Y/N.”

You couldn’t stop your fluttering heart at his words, my Y/N, “I would never do such thing, you are my king, no?” You rose your eyebrows in curiosity. Sure, the news that he was the heir of Isildur took you by surprise. It didn’t shock you completely though. There was always something about him that felt so other worldly. When Legolas let true of his identify at the Council of Elrond it all sort of made sense. You’d been Rangers together for nearly thirty years, both of you being Dunedin it made sense to pair the two of you together early on in your ventures. He had never told you of his true heritage throughout all that time together. While it stung when you learned you understood why he had done so.

“I see you have not lost your tongue.” He avoided your question.

You smiled knowing his usually ways of dodging, “Would you rather they take it?”

But a quick shake of the head let you know he was simply playing, “Never. Your wit is but my favorite thing about you.”

Letting out a feigned gasp you shook your head, “I should be so offended Aragorn.”

“What do you mean?” He looked surprised by your reaction unsure if you were simply messing with him or being completely serious.

“Do you find me that unattractive?” You asked a little too bluntly knowing that you were surly crossing that invisible line the two of you had danced around for far too long.

A fiery blush rose to his cheeks letting you know you had finally gotten the better of him, “Oh no. Never. No. I did not mean it like that. Please…”

You stopped his incoherent rambling with a stifled giggle, “I tease.”

Shaking his head slowly he knew he likely looked a fool standing in front of you. He couldn’t hide it though as all of his emotions came forward seeing you there alive and well. He had begun the process of mourning your death, thinking he’d never see you again. He knew he wanted to tell you exactly how he felt, right here. He wanted to waste no more time. He came to the striking realization that even no matter skilled you or he was life in middle earth was very hostile and unforgiving. The chance of death was high and even higher now that the two of you had joined the Fellowship.

“You are fortunate I care for you very deeply.” He chose his words carefully, hopeful you would pick up on his true meaning.

“Oh?” You heard his words a little surprised. There was not much he could say that took you by surprise but this was one of them that did. He had never so much admitted he cared for you at all let alone deeply in your time together. Strider was very kind to you but the two of you shared a working relationship at most. You weren’t out here letting your tightly bound feelings out and he certainly wasn’t either.

His confidence grew seeing the color rise to your cheeks at his words. You were thinking and hard at it apparently, “That cannot be all you have to say.” He stepped forward knowing that he had the upper hand on you for once. He could never seem to catch you off guard until this very moment.

You sucked in a breath not having a clue where this seemingly innocent interaction was heading. Turning around you spotted the rest of The Fellowship talking to Treebeard far off in the distance. You spun back finding him standing much, much closer than he was before. Eyes widening your head was not making sense of what was actually happening, “I was not expecting you to say that.” It was you deflecting this time which drew an arrogant smirk on the man standing far closer than you were used to. How did he smell so good? Surely he hadn’t bathed in a while. How did Strider do it? Make your mind fuzzier than ever.

He had to look down to meet his eyes with yours, “I never want to spend a day away from you again.”

If your cheeks were not already aflame with realization they were flooding with color now, “You do not?”

It was he who had the courage to make the first move on you after seeing how easily you reacted under his words. He took his hands and brushed away a streak of dirt across your cheek slowly sending your already racing heart into another frenzy, “No, never. These last few weeks have been the worst in my life. Never do I wish to part from you again. If that is what you wish for too.” Ever the man you fell in love with, he left the decision up to you.

It was your turn to be courageous now, “I wish the same.”

His devilish smirk turned into a smile of utmost joy. A smile you so rarely saw on the man. For you knew you didn’t wish to separate from him ever again either. Nearly every moment you were away you thought of him. You thought what he would do in your situation and tried your hardest to stay positive. If it were not for the Hobbits you may have stayed to fight with the Rohirrim when they had saved you from the clutches of the orcs who had you running for days on end. But you knew Strider would save them before fighting on his own, the Hobbits would never survive Gondor on their own. In a way he had saved your life countless times even when he was not there. Strider stayed with you always. You loved him always.

It was then that he realized he had nothing to lose. The way you had looked at him told him exactly what he wanted to know. You had loved him just as dearly as he loved you, “Can I tell you something?”

A nod came from you, “Anything.”

It was now or never and he wasn’t planning on missing his chance, “I love you.”

You could not help the way your mouth dropped at that, “You what?”

“I love you.” He said again with more confidence. He loved you and he couldn’t keep it from you anymore. Strider also knew that things would never go back to normal after this quest. His true identity was revealed. Things would change. As much as he longed to go back to the simple life of patrolling the woods with you he knew that’d never be in his cards any longer. And if his life was going to change he wanted to bring the one thing that brought him comfort along for the journey as well. If he were to be king he wanted you to be his queen. No, needed you to be his queen. For a majority of his success came from you being there with him helping and guiding him.

“You love me?” You asked more to yourself than to him. When he placed his hands on your shoulders with a gentle touch you knew you were a goner. The look in his eyes was like nothing like you had seen from him, “Why me? We’ve been partners for over thirty years and… where is this coming from?”

He stopped your racing mind by running his thumb along your lower lip, ever the intimate action sending your speeding heard into overdrive, “I’ve always known. But losing you… thinking you died. It all but made me realize how daft it is to hide it away when I can tell you outright when clearly you feel the same. Am I wrong?” He smiled as he held the back of your head in his hand so gently.

“No. Certainly not wrong.” You spoke in a soft whisper. When he smiled even brighter than you had truly ever seen you had to tell him too. You’d all but implied the same feelings but you needed to let it out too, “I love you too.”

The next moments felt like a blur. He pulled you close before whispering in your ear, “The next time the nosy prince of Mirkwood is not watching I will give you a proper kiss, my lady.” It was the first time he’d called you that in all your time knowing him. A rush of warmth was felt throughout your body. It felt… right. Like you were meant to be at his side.

Once he released you from the hold he had you in you turned your head over your shoulder spotting the blonde-haired elf sitting on his horse paying much more attention to the two of you rather than whatever tale Treebeard was telling the new group.

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you over the absurdity of the situation. Of all the things you thought could happen today confessing your love to the man who had you enraptured ever since you met him was the last thing you thought possible. Yet here you were. Avoiding the ever-clear eyes of your elven friend, “Damn elves.”

He nodded in agreement, “Come on, hop on.” He led you to his horse where he got you situated before he got on behind you. Slowly, he led you back to the group. You caught Legolas’ side eye knowing the he had to have heard a majority of the conversation if he wanted too. And knowing him, he wanted too.

When Strider’s horse stopped he made sure to keep his hand on you, uncaring of the curious stares from the rest of the group. He loved you. They knew it. Why should he have to hide it any further? Finally, it felt like something in this journey made sense. All he had to do now was keep you safe and destroy the ring. Simple, right?

Lord Of The Rings Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works please fill out the form here: Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @illisea @il0vebeingdelulu @shiftingtomydrs

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiyah! could I request Donna with a reader who has a really ratty old stuffed animal that they’re super attached to that Donna is a little (very) jealous of? maybe during a crisis Donna tears it apart and reader is inconsolable for days and won’t even speak to her, until one day Donna very carefully repairs that stuffed animal for reader again. love some angst with a happy ending!

Yesss!!!! Thank you for your request!!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))))

A childhood friend

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff, Donna being Donna, Donna's POV

Word count: 7,770

Summary: How can I be jealous of a teddy bear...?

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

I would never have imagined that I was waiting for someone, that in the darkness of my bedroom, loneliness wasn’t my only company.

After so many years of loneliness, of so much crying, horror… Finally I wasn’t alone and I would never be alone again.

My life is of no interest to anyone, it never was. Maybe I could have the feeling that I really left the young and crazy Donna Beneviento to become someone important, so ��lady” preceded my name and I would feel special.

No, that didn’t work. I will always thank the Black Gods, Mother Miranda, for having been chosen for a cause that I am still not sure of. I became a Lord, someone to be feared. Yes, that sounded much better than: the crazy and sick doll woman.

But thinking that something in my life would change after my transformation was only part of an illusion, a desire of my subconscious to abandon my loneliness.

Yes, I had power. I could do things I would never have imagined. Causing fear and suffering to those people who one day messed with me was a fun pastime, but it didn't last too long.

Power brings fear, and fear brings loneliness.

It's not that I wanted to suddenly find myself surrounded by people who begged to serve me, as my sister did. No, that false desire to share my life with someone was the only bit of sanity left in my sick mind.

No, I didn't need anyone. I had everything without having anything.

Thanks to Mother Miranda's gift I was able to give life to my partner Angie, my only friend, the only one who, even without existing, was by my side all those years. A miracle from the Black Gods, a gift I can never thank enough for.

But after years and years of thinking that perhaps loneliness would always be my condemnation, that, simply because I was born into my family, having spent my childhood, my life in that sinister village, I would no longer have the right to be a normal person.

You appeared as a coincidence, as something that shouldn’t be there and at the same time had to exist; a beautiful, perfect girl, daughter of the village weaver.

Were you really a coincidence? It was becoming more and more difficult for me to see it that way.

You had something I needed. You had fabrics for my dolls. At first it was unexpected. The Duke simply didn’t have what I was looking for. When I saw you… When I saw you I knew that I would never buy fabrics from that greedy merchant again.

I preferred to see you, to see your innocent smile, the lack of trembling in your body when I was near. You were different, you didn’t fear me, or you didn’t show it.

That was much more than I had in my entire life, someone who smiled at me, who didn't run away from me, who didn't beg for mercy. It was sudden, my heart started to move strangely, to pound when I got close to you. Yes, I never had the chance to experience that thing called love, so it took me a while to be sure that it was what I felt for you.

Longings, sighs, smiles… All those changes, those involuntary actions of my body were like a disease, one that I did like to have, for which there was only one cure: You.

After a while trying to put my feelings back together, assuming that I really loved you, that I visited you only to contemplate your smile, I dared to tell you what I felt.

I wanted you to guide me. I wanted you to tell me what those sighs meant, those smiles that you were unable to see through my black veil. I explained everything to you, with fear, fearing that you would think I was just stupid, a poor crazy woman who didn't even dare to talk to people.

Your smile grew bigger and bigger and then… Then you confirmed it for me. Those butterflies in my stomach, my mind ravaged by your beauty, the sighs, the desire to see you… It was love.

I wasn't surprised by your timid explanation but... When I lowered my head, ready to run away, so as not to hear your rejection, so as not to hear that I was just a monster, then you did it. Without fearing the consequences of your audacity you lifted my black veil. You didn't uncover my face, just a little bit of it, just enough for your lips to rest on mine.

A kiss, the first of my life but not the last, a kiss from those tender, brave lips that didn't flinch, that didn't hesitate... The best kiss.

You also felt something for me. Your body was sick in the same way, it was sick of love...

Explaining how little by little the kisses became routine, how my caresses became more and more emboldened by your skin would be too boring. Everything we lived always had an end, a bitter one, the moment when you had to go back home.

Desperate, being selfish and possessive, one of those nights I begged you not to leave ever again, to stay with me. You, always surprising me, said yes.

And that, that was the first night in which our bodies could embrace each other eternally, in which the warmth of your body remained in mine.

“Okay, I'm done,” you said when your usual clothes disappeared to give way to a nightgown, the clothes that would accompany you every night. “Donna?”

“Oh, yes,” I said, shaking my head, leaving that journey through my memories, that explanation I needed to know that you were real, that you did exist. “Come,” I said, patting the mattress affectionately.

“Wait, wait, something is missing,” you said suddenly, searching for something among your suitcases. “That's it...”

I blinked several times when I saw you with something in your arms, it looked like a teddy bear, or at least, it once was.

“What's that?” I asked pointing at that ratty animal as you got into bed next to me.

“It's Percy,” you said with an innocent smile, showing me the teddy bear and moving one of its paws comically. “Hello, hello”

“Percy?” I asked again with a frown, taking the bear in my hands.

The condition of that plush was terrible. It was missing an eye and the seams seemed to want to tear. The passage of time was evident in the old bear, it reminded me of Angie.

“Mm,” you murmured as I continued to look at that worn teddy bear. “I've had it since I was very young, it's important to me, you know, like a friend.”

“A friend…” I whispered with an inevitably unpleasant grimace.

 I hate broken toys.

“Yes, I've been sleeping with him for as long as I can remember, he's always been with me, you know...” you commented, sighing and looking at the gestures I made on the animal, trying to recompose one of his arms.

“You haven't taken good care of it,” I murmured, looking at you out of the corner of my eye. “It's destroyed.”

You simply shrugged your shoulders.

“Yes, well... I've always taken him with me on my adventures,” you said with a nostalgic tone. “Time passes for everything, but for me he's still the same.”

“The same? (Y/N), it's missing an eye,” I said with a mocking smile.

I wasn't used to joking, I didn't even know how to do that, I always failed and that time, you didn't even bother to fake a smile, you just crossed your arms.

“You are missing an eye too and I love you,” you said with a dangerous whisper, one that indicated to me that you weren't joking.

I looked at you quickly, offended by your comment. You weren't careful, (Y/N), you didn't know how dangerous it was to joke about my horrible appearance.

Well, maybe you did, because your face immediately changed and you bit your lip, placing a hand on my shoulder.

“Um, Donna, don't take it the wrong way... I, I meant it as a joke,” you stammered, with a reassuring tone.

I just nodded, taking one last look at that horrible bear and leaving it on the nightstand.

“Oh, no, no, wait,” you said climbing up my body and reaching out to grab the teddy bear. “Be careful, Donna.”

“Careful? Perché? I haven't done anything,” I said confused while you got off my body again, with that animal in your arms.

“Don't leave Percy anywhere, he’s fragile and... Well, besides, I already told you that I always slept with him so...” you said, placing the bow tie on that teddy bear, making me frown even more.

“Is the bear going to sleep here? In the bed?” I asked in a dark tone.

I didn't know why I acted that way, but I did, I had the need to do it, as if I myself considered that the bear was exceeding the limits of confidence.

“Yes... It's just that... Well, it may seem silly to you but... I continue, I continue sleeping with him,” you confessed a bit embarrassed, placing the bear delicately under the sheets, in a position that seemed horrible to me, between the two of us. “That way he could protect me.”

Ignoring the gesture of putting that plush to sleep with us, I laughed pleasantly, shaking my head and taking your hand.

“Come on, tesoro… You don't need it anymore, I'll protect you,” I said, moving the bear away from the bed.

You gasped, snatching it from my hands with a nervous, almost scared gesture.

“Um, I'm, I'm sorry Donna but I need it,” you said, looking away. “Well, unless… It's a problem for you… Be more careful, please…”

I blinked several times, trying to listen to your words over and over again and to interpret your serious expression as you returned the animal to that privileged place.

A part of me asked for tranquility, calm. The bear wasn’t something strange. I slept with my dolls, with Angie. I should know how important it could be for a person.

 The other part of my head, the one corrupted by hate, jealousy and madness, did nothing but scream at me to get that pathetic bear away from the place my body should occupy.

“Um, it's not a problem,” I said in a small voice, with an expression that surely didn’t show the intention of those words.

Does she prefer to sleep with that bear? How stupid you are, Donna…

“Taci!” I said out loud, startling you with the abruptness of my words.

Again I wasn’t careful. I let the voices in my head sound real, cloud my senses. Luckily, it was only for a moment, until your soft and reassuring hand rested on my cheek again.

“Honey, I didn't say anything,” you said with a nervous smile, with that tone you used when the shadows stalked me.

I was stupid to think that way, to believe that the pathetic bear could replace me. I wish I weren't condemned to madness, to imagine that, around every corner, there was a threat that sought to take you away from me.

“I'm sorry,” I said, rubbing my eye and kissing the back of your hand.

“Relax, I know the move has been stressful for you but...” you said, taking your hand away and lying down on the bed, guiding me to do the same. “I'm here with you now, my love...”

Your whispers, your words of love always served to soften my sharp soul. The day you were gone... I wouldn't want to continue living. Not even eternal life would be a gift. It would be a constant condemnation, a time in which your loss would never disappear from my wounded heart.

“Certo,” I whispered, forcing a smile, reaching out my hand to remind the softness of your skin, to remind myself that I wasn't living in a dream.

You laughed softly, like every time my imperfect hands touched your perfection. Not even the fact that my hand touched that teddy bear stopped me from enjoying your hand, getting a little closer to kiss your lips slowly.

“Careful, be careful, darling,” you said amused, harassed by the tickling my lips did on your skin. “Percy.”

I moved away as my smile faded, letting your hands leave me to take the plush out from under my body and position it again, ready to sleep.

“I'm sorry,” I whispered with a fake voice, glancing sideways at that one-eyed bear, one that seemed to enjoy its victory. At least that's what my mind interpreted.

It was our first night together, and the joy in my heart hid those irrational jealousies for a moment. Having your body sleeping next to mine, your deep, calm breathing reaching my ears like a lullaby... That was unbeatable, even with that disgusting Percy separating us.

I could barely sleep that night.

I couldn't sleep because I had you by my side, because my mind traveled from joy to sadness, then to fear, the fear as always irrational and almost psychotic. I thought when I dared to close my eye, I would lose you forever.

That didn't happen. I dared to sleep, to test my worries, and I won. Well, almost...

When the morning cold shook my body, forcing it to wake up, the first thing I did was to reach out my hand to you. You weren't there. The warmth of your body had abandoned me.

I quickly turned on the light and confirmed my fears. You weren't there, (Y/N), you were gone. My breathing became dangerously labored and my eye traveled all over the room until I lowered my head.

Of course, Percy was still there, looking at me with its one eye, mocking me. It wasn't what I expected to see when I woke up but at least... At least I knew that you weren't gone, you would never go without that filthy teddy bear.

Nervous because of that cold look, because of that bear's sinister shadow, I turned its head, its body, preventing it from continuing to laugh at me, even though it really wasn't.

“Good morning!” A high-pitched squeal made me stir.

Small, familiar footsteps walked towards the bed, jumping on top of it; my friend, my companion, my Angie.

“Don't shout, Angie...” I murmured, shaking my head. “Where's (Y/N)?” I asked curiously.

The doll laughed amused, climbing onto my lap.

“I think she's taking a shower,” she commented thoughtfully. “Did you sleep well?”

“No,” I said in a cold voice, briefly looking at the bear.

“Of course, of course, your conscience did its work,” Angie said with a haughty voice that made me frown.

“My conscience?” I asked, running a hand through my hair, constantly looking at the door, wanting for you to appear.

“Yes, silly Donna…” the doll said, putting a wooden finger on my nose. “I'm sure you felt guilty for having kicked me out of the room.”

“Oh, Angie…” I sighed, understanding the reason for that attitude. “We've already talked about it, you can't sleep with us. You disturb us.”

“Silly!” my doll shrieked. “That's unfair.”

“Angie, taci,” I said with a darker tone. “You have to accept that (Y/N) now lives with us, so do me a favor and behave, will you?”

“I can't behave with the silly girl who forced me to sleep in the office,” Angie protested, crossing her arms and letting herself fall on the mattress. “It's very cold there, Donna.”

“Stop complaining, you can't feel the cold,” I commented, shaking my head, refocusing my gaze on that bear and sighing.

The doll growled, mockingly imitating my posture until she noticed where my eye was pointing, until she noticed that strange presence on the bed

-Ohhh - she murmured curiously, cautiously approaching that teddy bear. -What is this filthy bear?

“It's Percy,” I said in a small voice, frowning and looking away. “It's (Y/N)’s.”

“Percy? Hello, hello Percy…” the doll said, shaking the bear's paw as if she was really greeting it.

I looked at her and couldn't help but smile at that scene. Angie was a demon, but sometimes she managed to look adorable. I don't know what would have become of me without her.

“Hey, you dirty bear! I'm talking to you!” the puppet said abruptly, indignant at not getting an answer.

I laughed amused, picking up the puppet in my arms and sitting her on my lap, fixing her messy hair affectionately.

“Ti voglio bene, Angie,” I whispered with my soul a bit calmer.

“Oh, cheesy Donna,” she protested, removing my hands from her face. “Hey, that bear is rude, he didn't greet me.”

I laughed again, leaving the doll alone.

“He doesn't talk, Angie, he's not like you,” I explained while the puppet examined the bear again with curiosity, shaking it comically.

“Che palle,” she complained. “Wait, wait, wait,” she said, as if she had just realized something. “I can't believe it Donna…”

“Mm?” I muttered, watching the door again in case you appeared.

“So, I, the wonderful Angie, the supreme Angie can't sleep here with you and that pile of dirt that looks like a bear can, right?” she protested, with an indignant pose, not leaving the poor bear alone.

I rolled my eye and sighed, relaxing my face again, turning it slightly dark.

“(Y/N) needs to sleep with it,” I explained looking down, remembering the conversation from the day before, those irrational thoughts that talked about stupid jealousy. “It's like... A talisman for her, or something like that.”

“How old is she, 5?” the doll mocked, laughing evilly. “Isn't she old enough for teddy bears?”

I sighed again, shaking my head.

“I can't judge her, Angie, until she came I slept with you,” I said in a low voice, taking the opportunity to remind myself that there was no problem with Percy.

“It's not the same, I can talk, and move, and be the best friend ever,” Angie said proudly, pointing at herself and sitting next to the stuffed animal. “Oh, look, look, he's missing an eye, like you...”

“Should I find that funny?” I said offended, crossing my arms. “It's (Y/N)'s teddy bear and she sleeps with it, that's all, there's no problem with it.”

“Are you talking to me or to yourself?” Angie asked, comically moving the bear's weak limbs.

I looked at her with a furious sigh, not having an answer for that accusation.

“I…” I stammered confused, but before I could try to defend myself, the footsteps on the wood indicated to me that, finally, you had returned. “Oh, (Y/N)…” I sighed with a smile as you leaned in to kiss me.

“Have you missed me, darling?” you asked laughing, surely due to my usual shower of kisses, a desperate one that tried hard to mark your skin. “Donna…” you said, pushing me away amused, kissing me for the last time and sitting next to me.

“I hope you slept well,” I said, forgetting for a moment about my dark thoughts, dazzled by your smile. “Have you been comfortable?”

“Oh yes, of course,” you said, nodding sincerely. “Besides, I already knew this bed…” you whispered in my ear, making the heat of my body move to my cheeks.

“Ugh!” Angie complained, interrupting unpleasantly. “Oh, my love, darling, give me a kiss, mooch, mooch, mooch…” the doll mocked, pretending to kiss Percy, something that made your smile disappear immediately.

“Hey! Don't touch him!” you screamed, moving nervously to snatch Angie's toy. “Don't touch him!”

“Ahhh!” Angie shrieked, fleeing from the unhinged fury of your words, hiding behind of me.

“(Y/N),” I said with a surprised look. I'd never heard you scream like that, I'd never seen you get that nervous. “Cal-calmati, amore mio…”

“It's not a toy, Angie, it's not for you to play with,” you said nervously, checking if my doll had caused havoc on that damn teddy bear.

“How dare you to yell at me?” Angie asked, peeking comically, pointing at you with her finger. “Say something, Donna, defend me.”

I should have, Angie was right.

“Behave, Angie, please…” I whispered, not sure that was what I meant. You looked at me gratefully, frowning, still holding Percy.

“Donna, you traitor …” the doll hissed moving away from me and getting off the bed. “I will get my revenge! You will pay dearly for your insolence! You and that filthy bear!” she shrieked before leaving the room, saying words that weren’t especially nice.

You shuddered, hugging Percy tightly, an image that my mind distorted horribly, making it not to look cute, but dangerous.

“Donna… She threatened me,” you said in a soft voice, getting a little closer to me with a scared look. “Angie won't hurt me, right?”

“Of course she won’t, tesoro,” I said, trying to reassure you with a sweet hug, with a soft kiss on your cheek. “Don't pay attention to her...”

“And Percy?” you asked nervously, moving away from my kisses, from my comfort, and hugging that stupid animal tighter.

I sighed discreetly, shaking my head and drawing your body towards mine again.

“No, tesoro, she won’t hurt Percy either,” I said reluctantly, trying not to make my passivity so obvious.

Luckily you were too preoccupied with the bear to notice the apathy of my words.

That's how our coexistence began, in a strange but satisfactory way. After all, you didn't leave, you stayed with me.

I tried to forget about that bear, I tried to pretend that it didn't accompany us every night, that you hugged it instead of my body. Meditating in the solitude of my workshop, I came to the conclusion that there was no danger in you finding refuge in a childhood companion.

Yes, I stopped thinking about it, or at least I tried. You were so perfect… Seeing you every day, being able to kiss you whenever I wanted, being able to tell you at any time that I loved you, that you were my whole life, was a better gift than the second chance Miranda gave me.

Always so cheerful, so happy, sitting next to me while we read, on my lap whenever I worked on my dolls… I spent all my time with you, all the time I could. The kisses, the caresses, the hugs… Those divine gifts were my new routine. I couldn’t say I got used to it, because I could never do that.

Getting used to it would be trivializing your presence. It would be provoking your kisses to stop causing me that incredible emotion, to stop worsening of my favorite disease, my love for you.

But, although everything was perfect, although the days passed with my body in yours, with my lips adoring yours, there came a time when I began to feel a strange discomfort.

It was like a sensation that made our loneliness, our intimacy disappear. It was like when Angie was around, like when kisses couldn't be diverted into passion. The feeling of being watched got worse as the days went by and, even though I tried to ignore it, I really tried, I couldn't do it.

That bear, that damn bear was always with us. It didn't matter what we were doing. Eating, sleeping, making love, walking... That damn Percy always accompanied us, silently, with that disgusting eye laughing at me.

Living with you was wonderful, but... Yes, I hated that bear.

Your arms hugged it every night, that piece of cotton and fabric had the privilege of feeling your warm body, separating it from mine. It could be an exaggeration, a jealousy that made no sense at all, but… If I couldn't hug you at night, why Percy could? Was he more important than me?

Maybe I was indeed exaggerating. Maybe my mental problems made me see that filthy bear as an enemy and not as one of my lifeless dolls.

Openly admitting that I was jealous of Percy wouldn’t be good for us, I knew it and that's why I decided to pretend that I didn't care about the affection you gave him, that I didn't care about the kisses you gave to that battered fabric, those caresses so different from the ones you gave me.

But time only proved me right, it only fed my darkness. My lap was no longer a place for you, yours was now the bear's favorite place.

It seemed to me that you were distancing yourself, that you gave him much more than you gave me. It could simply be that I didn't pay much attention to you when I made my dolls, I even came to think that it was some kind of revenge for something I didn't know I had done.

I tried, I really tried, but I couldn't take it anymore, not that night.

The kisses were hot, wet. The panting began to fill the bedroom with lust. My heart was beating fast, my hands were traveling over your body. I was in paradise.

“Donna,” you moaned amused by my caresses on your neck, by the way my hands climbed up your legs, ready to touch you, to make you mine, to love you madly…

I laughed, biting your earlobe, moving your body so it rested below mine while my lips began to go down your neck. My mistake was not letting myself get carried away by the voices in my head, by those voices that I began to ignore.

No, the problem was much simpler, I opened my eye.

On top of your bedside table was that filthy bear, the damn Percy. He was always there, always next to you, almost closer to you than me. Maybe that's why I wanted to make love to you desperately that night.

I stopped, catching my breath, staring into that lifeless eye, feeling intimidated, watched, as if that Percy hated me, as if he was capable of feeling the same jealousy as me.

“(Y/N)…” I sighed, sitting up a bit, relaxing the movement of my caresses.

“Donna, why are you stopping? Are you okay?” you asked curiously, running a hand through my hair. I nodded with a frown, looking away from that bear. “Come here, my love…”

Your tender words brought back the desire of my lips kiss yours, but it only lasted a moment, until my stupid eye opened again.

“Mm, no, (Y/N),” I said, moving away again, shaking my head.

You looked at me curiously, with a strange look.

“What's wrong?” you asked with a soft, understanding voice.

You were so perfect…

“It's just that… I, I can't,” I stammered, looking back at that disgusting bear. “It makes me, it makes me nervous,” I said in a low voice, pointing at the teddy bear with my head.

“You mean Percy? Oh, Donna, it's just a teddy bear,” you said amused, pulling my face back to your lips. I pulled away roughly, determined that you would listen to me.

“Can you take it away from there?” I asked, with a cold look. “I can't concentrate.”

“Don't pay attention to him, I promise he won't say anything,” you whispered seductively, silencing my protests with another one of your tender kisses. Not even the softness of your lips could comfort me.

“No, t-take it away from there, tesoro, please,” I asked more nervously, with a frown.

It was a kind request, (Y/N). I don't know why you had to refuse.

“Don't be silly, Donna, just don't look at him,” you said, with a slightly more relaxed look, trying to divert my face from your table. “Don't be childish...”

“Childish?” I asked offended, mouth agape. “Come on, (Y/N), don't be stubborn. Put it down for a moment...”

I reached out my hand to fulfill my wish, but yours stopped me.

“Stop talking nonsense and come here, forget about Percy,” you said with an impatient voice.

Nothing I say is nonsense, (Y/N)

I tried to let myself go again, but I was too nervous.

“Cazzo...” I growled, watched by that lifeless eye, oppressed by the pressure of that smiling expression that would surely laugh victoriously for having won. “Cazzo!” I shrieked, moving to hit the stuffed animal, to throw it to the floor in an unpleasant way.

“What are you doing? Have you gone crazy?” you asked startled, pushing me to get off your body, desperately throwing yourself to the floor to pick up your teddy bear. “Oh, nothing happened to it, right?”

“I can't believe it, (Y/N),” I hissed nervously, shaking my head. “Leave that stupid bear on the floor and come here.”

“It's not stupid,” you said with a look that pierced my chest. “I already told you that it's going to get dirty on the floor.”

“But... You, you...” I murmured, unable to say a word, controlling my increasingly sharp nerves. “Porca puttana...” I hissed, getting up from the bed.

“Where are you going, darling?” you asked, confused by my abrupt attitude. “My love, uh… Why did you do that? You know how important it is to me…”

“You know what, (Y/N)?” I said, turning quickly before walking out the door. Your eyes looked at me scared, terrified. I didn't know what to say, I didn't know what I wanted to say, but I knew it wasn't anything good. “I, I'm going to the workshop.”

My cowardice was useful for once. I wanted to tell you so many things… I wanted to talk to you about my absurd jealousy, about my fear about that scruffy stuffed animal taking my place but… I couldn't do it, you would hate me for it and that only meant my fears made sense, that the bear was much more important than me.

I would have to calm down, my hands were shaking. That time I managed to avoid the crisis, but I didn't know how much longer I could bear it.

The next day started like any other, a romantic breakfast, your body on my lap again while I worked… It seemed like that tense moment had caused you to realize what my concern was.

But the reality was very different. That bear was still with us all the time, even closer to you, as if you wanted to protect it from another one of my slaps. You hugged it, held it close to your body. It was even closer than me.

“You know? I've been thinking…” you murmured while we ate. My gaze shifted from Percy, accompanying us, as always, and went to your beautiful eyes.

I nodded with a slightly forced smile, one that stayed alive in the light of your smile.

“Tell me what you've been thinking, tesoro…” I sighed romantically, something that made you smile in the same way

“Mm, I thought we could go for a walk in the woods, it's a really nice day,” you said with that soft tone, with that shy smile.

“Yes, a walk!” Angie exclaimed, startling us both.

“Um, no, just me and Donna,” you corrected in a slightly abrupt but amused manner.

“I want to go too, I want to go too!” the doll protested, tugging hard at my black dress, making me almost choke on my wine.

“Angie, cazzo, lasciami…” I protested, pulling the garment away from her wooden claws. “No, you're not coming.”

“Oh, Donna said a bad word,” Angie mocked, in an exaggerated manner. I shook my head, rolling my eye and smiling at you amusedly.

That smile faded when I saw you look at the bear and shrug. It made me so nervous when you looked at it…

“What did you say? A bad word?” you asked curiously.

“Oh, well, Angie's right, you better not learn those ugly words, sweetheart…” I said, dismissing my outburst with a wave of my hand.

“Donna, silly, mean Donna, I want to go for a walk, I want to go!” the doll shouted again, causing me to sigh tiredly.

“I said no,” I said firmly with a stern tone. “You stay here watching Percy, mm?”

“What?” you asked, startled by my innocent words. “Oh, no, no, Percy is coming with me.”

“That's it, choose the filthy bear over me,” Angie whispered, with her hands on her hips. “Donna, tell her something!”

“Angie… Can we eat in peace?” you asked again, clasping your hands together in a pleading manner.

My gaze darkened again and the hand holding my wine glass began to tremble. I couldn't believe it, I just couldn't believe it.

What was supposed to be a liberating step, without stuffed animals or dolls, was nothing but a continuation of that horrible routine in which Percy was always present.

My hand squeezed the glass so hard that it broke, causing you to moan in surprise.

“Uh, wow, you're strong, huh, honey?” you joked, removing the two glass parts from my hands. “Wait, I'm going to throw this so you don't cut yourself. Percy, keep an eye on her.”

The anger could no longer stay inside me.

“Don't go, (Y/N),” I said, getting up from the table and getting in your way.

“Oh, do you want something from the kitchen?” you asked innocently, emptying the broken glass’ wine into yours.

“No,” I said abruptly, with my teeth clenched, with my fist wanting to break more glasses. “The bear is not coming with us.”

“What? Oh, um, why not?” you stammered, putting the crystals in a basket and looking at me confused. “Of course it’s coming.”

“Of course it’s not. The bear is staying,” I hissed, breathing more and more heavily.

“No, the bear is coming with us,” you said with a fake, nervous smile, as if I was saying something crazy. I wasn't, I was right. “What's wrong with you?”

Your words only increased my nerves. I couldn't stand it anymore. The madness was starting to make me lose control.

“What's wrong with me, huh?!” I screamed furiously, unhinged, letting out that contained rage, that stupid and absurd jealousy. “Qual è il tuo problema!?”

“D-Donna, you know I don't understand Italian,” you whispered cautiously, backing away slowly. “What's wrong with you? You're, you're very nervous…”

“How long are you going to keep laughing at me?” I asked in a lower tone, but just as dangerous. “Tell me, have you decided to make fun of me until I can't take it anymore?”

“What are you talking about? Oh, honey, you're losing your mind again… I'll go get your medicine,” you said nervously, passing by me. A bad idea, since my hand grabbed your arm tightly, pushing you back with a furious gasp.

“Yes, I'm losing my mind… Because of you!” I shrieked, clenching my fists tightly and approaching your side of the table, where that stupid Percy was resting. “I'm fed up, (Y/N)! I’m Fed up!”

“Donna, you're scaring me…” you stammered, grabbing the bear to hug it, to take refuge in it, instead of me. That was the last straw.

“Oh…” I growled furiously, snatching it away from you roughly.

“Hey! Give it back to me!” you shrieked nervously while trying to reach it, something impossible, since I was holding it above my head and you… You weren't exactly the tallest girl in the village… “Donna!”

“No! What's wrong, (Y/N)? If you love this stupid bear that much, what are you doing with me?”

“What?” you asked confused, jumping uselessly to reach your partner. “Donna, stop…. Donna!”

“Basta!” I screamed with more anger, pushing you roughly. “I'm sick of this filthy bear! Sick of you loving him more than me!”

“What the fuck are you saying?” you asked, furious, giving up and shaking your head. “Have you gone completely crazy? I knew you were jealous, Donna, really, I knew you were possessive but to be jealous of my teddy bear… It's too much, even for someone like you.”

“If you don't want me to be jealous, stop putting this stinky thing in my bed, stop hugging him at night!” I shouted, shaking Percy in my hand, noticing how the weak stitching on its arm slowly unraveled.

“I don't think you're the best person to accuse me of that. What about Angie?” you asked, pointing at the puppet, who pointed at herself and shook her head.

“Hey, don't involve me!” the doll protested.

“She's alive, (Y/N), this fucking bear is not, he will never be, he will never love you like I do!”

“You're going crazy. You must relax, give Percy back to me and go with your stupid dolls,” you said in a calm tone, getting a little closer to me. “When you get over that stupid craziness, we can talk calmly.”

I narrowed my eye, still breathing furiously as you extended your hand towards mine.

“Come on, Donna, be a good girl and give it back to me,” you said, with a demanding tone that ended up driving me crazy.

I growled, lowering the stuffed animal to your height but immediately removing it from your grip.

“Do you want me to give it back to you?” I asked with a dark look that was surely terrifying.

You nodded, you didn't seem moved.

“Come on, Donna, give it to me,” you said with an impatient gesture.

“Cazzo!” I screamed, grabbing the bear with both hands and doing the worst thing I could do, ripping it, pulling at those weak seams to tear it in half, to tear apart your most precious possession and throw it to the floor with a grunt. “Here is il tuo orsacchiotto di merda!”

“Donna!” you screamed, exchanging pride for the deepest sadness. “No, no, no!”

Screaming, you bent down to pick up the remains of the animal, bursting into tears that tore my soul apart completely. My madness didn't allow me to pity you, not even for a second. I thought I had triumphed.

“Why…?” you sobbed, trying to put the bear back together in a pathetic way. The cotton was sticking out of the tear and one of the arms didn't fit anymore. “Percy…”

I just looked at you, my gaze still dark.

“Donna,” you sobbed, hugging the parts of the teddy bear. “You are a monster,” you whispered, staring me straight in the eye, tears running down your cheeks.

You didn’t say anything else, not even that terrible insult made me stir until you ran out up the stairs and locked yourself in the guest room among horrible cries.

“Oh, Donna, Donna…” Angie sighed, coming closer when she saw the white on my knuckles disappear and I began to realize.

“Oh… What, what have I done?” I said, as if I had just woken up from a nightmare, running a trembling hand over my forehead, looking at a piece of cotton on the floor. “No…”

“Donna, my friend…” Angie sighed, hands on hips. “…You screwed it up.”

Angie was right.

My absurd jealousy, my sick mind forced me to break Percy, to take away your childhood friend. I hated myself, I screamed, I yelled, but none of that could ease my conscience nor heal my mistake.

You stopped talking to me, almost looking at me. You didn't even sleep with me. I had lost you.

But it wasn't a quick loss, you didn't abandon me completely. You were still in my house, you hadn't left me. What was initially a relief became the worst of my tortures. I could see you, but not have you. I could hear you, but not talk to you, I could look at your lips, but I couldn't kiss them.

I tried, I tried by all means to apologize, to beg you to forgive me, but it wasn't enough, it never would be.

“(Y/N),” I said when, as always, you sat down to eat with me. Your gaze was cold, annoyed, it seemed like you really hated me. My voice was soft, sad, apologizing with every word I said. It was of no use.

You didn't look at me or greet me. You just poured yourself a glass of water.

“L-look, I, I made lasagna… It, it's your favorite dish,” I said shyly, serving her a perfect piece that she reluctantly accepted.

“Do you expect me to thank you?” you asked, ignoring my gaze again. At least it was the first time in days that I heard you speak.

“(Y/N), per favore… Listen to me…” I said nervously, with a trembling voice and a tear in my eye.

“I don't want to listen to you,” you said in a gruff voice, dragging the chair. “If you don't leave, I'll go to my room.”

“Forgive me, I beg you, I'm, I'm suffering, tesoro, you don't know how much I am…” I said in a more pathetic tone, reaching out my hand to touch yours. You stood up with a cold look, without a smile, without the sparkle in your eyes.

“What do you know about suffering? You have no fucking idea about people's feelings, Donna. I'm going to my room, I'm not hungry,” you growled, getting up from the chair and walking back to the stairs.

“(Y/N)…” I sobbed when I lost sight of you, resting my forehead on my hand, letting the tear I was holding fall onto the table.

As if saying your name summoned you, you approached again, hurriedly, picking up your plate of food with an embarrassed look, making a proud gesture as you took that lasagna to your room.

A strange smile formed on my face as I shook my head. At least you were still enjoying my food.

“Is everything okay?” Angie asked, climbing onto my lap.

“No, it's not okay at all,” I said hoarsely, pouring myself some wine. “I'm losing her, Angie…”

“Well, you've broken her childhood teddy bear and hurt her feelings, you can't be surprised by her reaction,” the doll said. She was right.

“I don't know what I can do… I'm desperate,” I murmured, playing with my food. “I'll lose her forever, because of me.”

“You gain nothing by regretting it, silly Donna, do something,”  Angie said, guiding my face so I looked at her.

“What? I've apologized in every possible way, I've begged her and… It, it didn't help,” I explained while the doll listened to me, pretending boredom.

“If you think that by saying sorry you're going to fix things up, you're more stupid than you look, Donna,” she said, making me growl furiously, pushing her off my lap.

“Angie…” I hissed dangerously while a word stuck in my mind: fix. “Oh, wait… I think I got it…”

“What, Donna? What are you thinking?”

“Come, I need your help.”

The solution came to my head like a fresh breeze. Yes, it was true that saying sorry was absurd, that it wouldn't fix anything but… That only happened when there was nothing to fix. Fixing my mistakes wasn't something abstract, metaphorical. I could fix everything, really fix it. If I wanted to get you back, I should fix Percy.

With Angie's unmatched help, and with you not seeming upset with my doll, I managed to distract you so I could go up to your new room and get back what was left of Percy.

I spent two days in the workshop, without eating, without sleeping, searching for every piece of fabric, recomposing every part of that damn bear. If it had to be with us so I could enjoy your love, so be it.

Two new eyes, a restored bow tie, reinforced seams, clean and soft fabric, a rebuilt smile, he looked brand new.

“Well, there you are…” I murmured, running a hand over my forehead, yawning from exhaustion. “Welcome back, Percy. What do you think, Angie?”

“Oh…” the doll murmured. “It's amazing, Donna, I'm sure (Y/N) is going to love it.”

“Either that or she'll hate me forever… Is she upstairs?”

The doll nodded.

Slowly, I went up the elevator, with the animal hidden behind my back, walking slowly towards you, who seemed nervous, looking under the furniture, at least until you saw me.

“You! You crazy nutcase! What have you done with Percy?” you shouted at me, pushing me by the shoulders. I didn't move, I just shook my head. “It wasn't in its place... You threw it in the trash, right?”

“No,” I whispered with a hoarse voice, trying to keep my composure despite your angry pushes.

“Yeah, right, stop pretending, Donna. I'm sure you've gotten rid of it, how long do you plan to make me suffer?” you asked, pushing me harder and harder. “Talk, you crazy bitch! Tell me where Percy is!”

I didn't answer, no matter how much my heart hurt from your insults. I simply moved the bear from my back, holding it with both hands and showing it to you, who immediately froze, blinking several times.

“What…? Percy?” you asked confused, shyly taking the restored teddy bear. “What…?”

“Hello, (Y/N),” –I said without moving my lips, pretending to be the animal. You looked at me out of the corner of your eye and shook your head.

“It's, it's incredible… It's, it's like I remember it when my parents… Gods… What have you done?” you asked, looking at the clean bow tie, running a finger over its two now perfect eyes. The smile was starting to appear on your face.

“Donna fixed me up. She put a lot of effort into it. Look at me, I finally have two eyes,” Percy said again while I looked at you with a sad expression.

“I see…” you laughed with a sincere smile. “Look at the seams… It’s, it’s perfect…”

“Donna loves you so much. She’s tried so hard to fix me up to make you happy. She didn’t want to hurt you. She was just being silly, were you, Donna?” Percy said.

 I nodded slowly.

You shook your head and laughed amused, leaving the bear on a table and walking towards me, cupping my face in your hands.

“Donna, my love…” you whispered, with tears in your eyes. “Honey…”

“I’m so sorry, (Y/N), I didn’t mean to make you suffer… I, I just…”

You interrupted me the best way you knew, with one of your tender kisses, one that almost made me cry, one that you hadn’t given me in too long.

“I behaved like a fool too,” you said, playing with my hands. “I know the whole Percy thing was hard for you, Donna, but… Don’t, don’t worry, we’ll both make an effort to be a bit better, okay? I love you so much, my love…”

“I love you, (Y/N)…”

[claymoresword]

I Choose Her | Chp: 20

Hermione Granger x Slytherin Fem!Reader

Summary: You are the daughter of two known death eaters from one of the oldest and richest families in the wizarding world. Are you truly prepared to give up everything you know for Hermione Granger?

Pairing: Hermione x Reader

Wordcount: 4.3k

Warnings: y/n & draco, character death, violence, general heavy themes, fluff, y/n & hermione are endgame , events follow canon (in theory)

Note: here it is.. the final chapter ! (technically it's not over yet since we still have the epilogue, which i will try my best to get out within the next week, fingers crossed)

i also want to thank you guys so much for being here. whether you just found this fic recently or you've been here since the beginning, i hope you know i appreciate your support so much. it's the reason we even got to this point! i'm truly going to miss writing this story, more than you know. especially considering it has been apart of my life for over a year now, which is crazy! but anyway, love you guys, i hope you enjoy this one :)

Taglist: @gvrsto @aweidlich @xxsekhmet @arielj @poppyflower-22 @scarleigh1989 @smut-religiously777 @cocoyeehaw @blackbirdv98 @arcturusseer @iamcapitalgbicorn8287 @lonewalker17 @karasonromanoff @httphayn @bigbadsofty07 @cherryflavoredcoke @dumpsapphic @idontwannabehereatm @js-a-writer @baylegend6 @puta1 @t-wylia @raven-ss @unexpected-character @brocoliisscared @aki-ham @theheartwants-what-itwants

Hours since the Dark Lord and his followers had officially retreated. 

The sun was now steadily taking its position in the sky, illuminating the mortal world. Heedlessly enforcing the illusion that tragedy no longer looms over Hogwarts and all wizard-kind. 

That is, of course, as further as one could possibly get from the truth.

The atmosphere amidst the Great Hall unfailingly reminds everyone of a suffocating reality. It is thick with grief. Cold, dark and devoid of life– much like the dead that lay within it.

Hermione has yet to leave your side since you found a space to sit amongst the rubble. She continues to cling to you like a lifeline. Harry has been gone for hours, and Hermione, with a bit of coaxing, has finally stopped crying.

Ginny however remained hysterical– till her father was forced to subdue her with a Laxo charm. Still its effects wear off too quickly, and Ginny is far too vulnerable to justify repeated use. So her parents have settled with putting her to sleep instead.

She rests her head on Ron’s shoulder, blind and deaf to the destruction around her, even if only for a short while.

“Are you alright?” A foolish question, but Hermione, ever sweet and gentle, doesn't berate you for it. She nods, wordlessly slipping her arm around you before nestling her face into the crook of your neck. 

Hermione desperately seeks an escape through you and there is nothing more you wish to do than to give her just that. You want to be her helm in a sea of catastrophe, as much as she is yours.

Nothing matters anymore, only her. 

As you slip a comforting arm around your girlfriend, you take a scan of the hall, quickly regretting your decision to do so as you divert your eyes away from the row of corpses laid across the floor. 

It is then you spot a familiar face that causes your stomach twists even more, you are overcome with the sudden urge to wretch.

Draco appears just as pale and miserable as he approaches you. Gingerly taking a seat, cautious not to interrupt your embrace with Hermione. For what feels like an eternity, neither of you speak.

“I thought you left the castle with the rest of them.” You find yourself muttering, surprising Draco and especially yourself.

Hermione lifts her head, once she realizes you were not speaking to her. 

She takes notice of the platinum haired man next to you, and you feel her tense within your hold. Hermione’s expression visibly hardens, and you recognize that it would be smart to continue putting yourself in between her and Draco for the time being. 

“No, I– I couldn’t. My parents.. they were looking for me, but I– I hid.” Your best friend remarks, he is unable to keep eye contact with you. 

Guilt is ever corrosive, and it was consuming him alive. You see it in the very way Draco carries himself– so far removed from the person he once was.

Much like yourself.

It seems as though Draco is entirely expecting you to push some blame onto him. As if the destruction here today was caused solely by him. Though things are hardly as simple as that– besides, there is little reward in kicking a man when he is already down.

“At least you refused them. I know it isn’t easy.” You state. A feeble attempt to uplift him.

“Doing the right thing rarely ever is.” Hermione chimes in, as she puts her head on your shoulder once more. Her demeanor has softened, and in any regular instance, this might even fill you with joy.

“Does it even matter now? It’s too late.” Draco wallows, and a part of you wants to contend his statement, but that would also mean lying to him.

“And my mother and father– I’ve disappointed them.” He adds and now you let out a humorless chuckle. 

“We have that in common. Mine certainly aren’t going to acknowledge me as their daughter now.” You say, and your best friend almost seems comforted by the notion.

“Mine either.” Hermione quips plainly, her attempt at lighthearted banter only shatters you. 

You turn to place a lingering kiss against her forehead. Hermione accepts it as a faint smile plays on her lips, one reserved only for you.

‘As long as we stay together it'll be fine.’ You remind yourself for the dozenth time.

Draco sighs.

“There was no point to any of this.. it's all gone to shit.” He utters, exasperated, and Hermione nods in agreement.

Another chuckle slips out of you, this time from true amusement. Possibly from exhaustion or simply just a reaction to the ludicrous position you have all found yourselves in. You are sitting in what was once the Great Hall; the safest and warmest place in all of Hogwarts is now reduced to nothing but dust, piles of stone and death. 

You ought to be studying for your end of year exams, yet instead, you have been battling Death Eaters. 

People you considered friends have attempted to harm you more than once, and now it is not even certain if you would survive long enough to see nightfall.

Despite herself, Hermione begins to laugh with you. Draco only scoffs at this, he averts his gaze but you manage to catch the smile threatening to form on his face.

The moment does not last much longer as a noise in the distance abruptly steals your attention. The air in Hogwarts is no longer desolate, it has been awoken once more, and you quickly find out why.

Neville is first to rise off the floor, swiftly walking out into the courtyard. Students and teachers, reluctant but curious, follow suit. 

You leave Draco behind as you move through the crowd, Hermione quickly falls in next to you and Ron settles a few paces behind. 

Your worst fear is realized. 

They have returned, to finish what they started. 

A large army of Death Eaters approaches Hogwarts, the Dark Lord leads them at the front of the brigade. As they get closer, you notice Hagrid towering over the rest, he walks with something large in his arms.

Your face falls in horror once you make out exactly what it was he was carrying. Harry Potter, limp and lifeless. 

Hagrid held him as though he weighed no more than a feather. It is a devastating sight, but you can’t seem to look away. 

You feel the sudden urge to pinch yourself, to force yourself awake.

You are trapped in a grim nightmare, Harry cannot be dead. 

“No.” Ron utters your thoughts out loud.

Hermione is reduced to soft sobs as she turns away in distress, you feel compelled to pull her in for an embrace once more.

“Who is that, Hagrid’s carrying?” Ginny’s voice echoes through the courtyard. She is awake, only to be struck in the face with atrocity.

“Neville, who is that?” She calls, much louder and desperate.

“Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord responds to her question with glee.

“No– no!” Ginny cries, but she is quickly silenced with a wave of Voldermort’s hand, he forces her to the ground.

“Silence! You stupid girl.” He bellows as Arthur frantically helps his daughter back on her feet, dragging her as far from the enemy as possible.

“Harry Potter is dead, from this day forth, you put your faith in me.” Voldermort claims and he is only met with a stunned silence.

"Harry Potter is dead!” The Dark Lord declares again in celebration turning to his followers. He laughs, maniacal and bone chilling. Death eaters soon join in, a roar of erroneous joy.

Blind rage gives Hermione the strength to finally look upon Voldermort, you release her from your grip, but maintain close proximity.

“And now is the time to declare yourself. Come forward and join us, or die.” Voldermort states, his arms outstretched– a forced gesture of welcome.

Once again, you can all only afford to stare at him in disbelief.

“Draco!” Lucius calls for his son angrily, and you only realize then that you’ve entirely lost sight of your best friend.

The crowd parts slightly, and you finally spot him at the other side of the courtyard, standing amongst Seamus, George and Dean.

“Draco.” Narcissa coaxes her son in a far gentler manner, but the distress and worry within her gaze is plain for you to see.

Draco stares at his parents for a prolonged moment and then turns to look towards you. Your breath hitches in your throat, the weight of the world is on his shoulders and he means to share the burden with you.

You manage to shake your head at him, signifying disapproval, but it seems he was not looking for advice, it was merely a look of remorse. He was just apologizing for something he was about to do.

Your shoulders slump in disappointment when Draco tears his gaze away from your own, he limps towards his parents, slowly, as if in a trance. 

“Well done, Draco, well done.” The Dark Lord embraces him stiffly for all to see, your jaw tightens when his stare lands on you.

Any fear you felt in that moment has been overshadowed by plain hot resentment.

“Y/n!” Your own father calls for you the same way, you can still feel the weight of everyone’s stare upon you as you refuse to budge.

“Y/n, come here, now.” Your mother warns, but it does nothing to convince you, if anything it has the opposite effect.

You feel Hermione’s hand slip into your own, motivating a streak of confidence.

“I am fine right where I am, mother.” You remark plainly, and you catch the way Voldermort clenches his pale gray hand into a fist for an instant before composing himself.

“Well, I must admit, y/n, I am very disappointed in you. I have no doubt your parents feel the same.” He states, and it works to gain a rise out of you.

However before you can retaliate with something reckless, Voldermort raises his wand to point it at you. “Crucio.”

The next thing you recall is the ground coming up to meet you, and trying to break your fall. A blinding pain that travels from your arm to the rest of your body.

Hermione is crouched over you as you continue to seize on the ground in sheer agony. 

“Stop it! Please, stop!” Your girlfriend's pleas fall on deaf ears.

You faintly hear Voldermort’s mocking laughter amidst your own gripes of pain. Certain you are about to faint, you clench your eyes tightly, but then, it all stops. 

Air violently floods your lungs, you feel the ground again, this time you recognize that you are laying firmly on top of it. You feel Hermione’s desperate hands clutching your body.

The Dark Lord looks upon horrified faces– he is using you as a warning. “I will say it again. Join us, else you will suffer a worse fate that y/n. So I invite you to step forward now.”

Hermione begins to help you back on your feet, but not before kissing your temple. She smoothes out your disheveled hair, a frantic effort to soothe you, or perhaps herself.

“Please tell me you're alright.” She pleads, an anguished whisper. You ignore the sharp pain still pulsating throughout your body to give Hermione some peace of mind.

“I am, I'll be fine.” You reply, taking her arm to resume your place.

Neville slips past you then, this sudden gesture is followed by a wave of gasps. 

You observed as he limped through the crowd and towards Voldermort, your brows furrowed in confusion.

Not Neville. Not him of all people. 

“I must say, I hoped for better.” Voldermort hurls the jibe, brusque and overconfident. The roar of laughter that comes from his followers only causes your scowl to deepen, it is a jarring noise, deeply unsettling.

“And who might you be, young man?” The Dark Lord asks, feigned geniality.

“Neville Longbottom.” Neville admits only for the laughter to come again. 

You shift your weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Hermione mistakes it for a sign you may collapse again so she moves closer, allowing you to lean on her; this only makes you want to weep. 

This isn't right. It was never supposed to happen like this.

“Well, Neville I am sure we can find you a place in our ranks–”

“–I'd like to say something!” Neville's voice bullies over Voldermort’s.

From the looks of it, this would nearly cost him his life, as Voldermort lifts his wand, almost like a reflex but he lowers it just as quickly.

With an air of composure, he responds, but his pretense is waning.

“Well, Neville, I am sure we are all fascinated to hear what you have to say.” Voldermort’s smile only makes him appear even more displeasing to the eye.

“It doesn't matter that Harry's gone.” Neville announces, and you instinctively look to the man in Hagrid’s arms.

This can't be the end.

Only half a heartbeat until you avert your gaze again.

“Stand down, Neville!” Seamus possesses enough gumption to warn his friend, but Neville brushes him off.

“People die everyday!” He insists.

“Friends, family..” Neville trails off.

Again, you feel compelled to keep Hermione close as you notice the way she has been pursing her lips to fight back more tears.

Ron can't seem to pull his eyes away from Hagrid, and his dead best friend.

“Yeah, we lost Harry tonight, but he's still with us, in here.” Neville continues, gesturing loosely to his chest, just above where his heart is.“So is Fred, Remus, and Tonks, all of them.”

“They didn't die in vain!” Neville shouts with a newfound confidence.

“But you will, because you're wrong!”

He challenges the Dark Lord, bold and open, and it makes you wince.

“Harry's heart did beat for us, for all of us!” He continues.

“So it's not over!” Neville exclaims, and the old hat he had been holding droops to the floor. Within it is revealed an unmistakable relic: the sword of Gryffindor.

He unsheathes the steel for all to see.

Then just as suddenly, the unthinkable happens. 

Harry slips out of Hagrid's hold, his body collapses to the ground, but he is not dead, he braces his hands on the ground before rising.

Harry Potter, alive.

“Merlin's beard..” You gape, and Hermione grasps your shoulder, then she laughs, shock and pure relief.

Harry sprints past the Dark Lord, quick, like a cat. He attempts to fish out Draco’s wand from his pocket but it slides past his fingers.

Harry isn't given the opportunity to retrieve it as he is forced to dodge the mania of curses being hurled his way. 

There is only chaos in the courtyard now as Death Eaters begin to disapparate by the dozen, abandoning their leader. 

Everyone else, desperately seeking shelter, out of the courtyard, back into the castle or elsewhere, anywhere away from harm. 

“Come on, we have to go.” Hermione drags you with her, but you turn back for a moment to watch as Draco bravely pushes past the chaos, picking up his wand, unbelievably, he tosses it back to Harry. 

“Potter!” Your best friend shouts just before you lose sight of him in the crowd. Although Harry catches the wand just in time.

“Confringo!” The Chosen One exclaims, Nagini writhes violently as the curse injures her.

The snake. You have to kill the snake.

Harry shares the sentiment as you get to the castle's doors, he falls in next to you, Ron and Hermione. “We need to kill the snake, I'll lure him into the castle.”

You merely nod in response, Harry continues to deflect the curses being hurled at the four of you.

“You'll need this.” Hermione says, retrieving the Basilisk fang from her bag.

The Dark Lord is rapidly inching closer now, fury has become him– yet he has never seemed so meek, utterly powerless.

He is losing, if he has not lost already.

Nagini is all he has left.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

You anticipate it, but Hermione shoves you out of the way just in time as a mass of rubble comes crashing down from above.

You stumble, before coughing out a lung full of dust, squinting as it obstructs your vision. Hermione’s grip on your arm is the only thing tethering you to the present.

Harry bumps into you, just as disoriented. He has lost sight of Ron and worst of all, he can't see Voldermort. 

Another large crash causes you all to flinch, it didn't take long at all for the Dark Lord to find you once again.

Harry throws another curse, powerful enough that he loses his balance, the Basilisk fang unluckily slips out of his pocket, bouncing off the stairs and to the flat ground in front of you.

You reach for it, but before you can retrieve the object, the tooth disintegrates right before your eyes. 

“What–” You aren't given the chance to despair as Harry reminds you of an alternative.

“I’ll keep distracting him. Find Neville, he has the sword. Kill that snake.” He states, the sound of curses violently clashing masks his words, the Dark Lord remains oblivious to your plan, for now.

 “Let's try the Great Hall.” Hermione suggests.

“If we can even get there.” You quip, actively trying to work out a way through the rubble.

You follow after Hermione, and soon, Harry disappears through the thick wall of smoke and dust, purposefully luring Voldermort towards the Astronomy Tower.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

“Here, this way.” Hermione says as she steps through an opening and further down a flight of stairs.

Just when you both think you are out of danger, a noise stops you dead in your tracks.

You spot the large snake coiling around the bannister before slithering across a pile of bricks towards you.

Its hiss sends a shiver down your spine as you reach for your wand.

Hermione on the other hand, acts on pure instinct. Grabbing a piece of stone, she aims it at the snake.

It successfully clips Nagini on the side of her head, but this only succeeds in agitating the beast.

“Oh.” Hermione utters as the snake recoils, ready to attack.

You both lift your wands in preparation but the snake is hit again, this time by a larger curse that disorients it.

“Go on, I'm right behind you.” Ron emerges, 

pushing the both of you to continue on your search for the sword.

You only manage to get to the bottom of the stairs before Ron can be heard groaning in pain.

The snake had managed to trap him in its grasp, it was coiled around his body, an unsettling sight as it attempted to strangle the life out of him.

“Ron!” Hermione exclaims, chasing back up the stairs without a moment's thought.

“Stupefy!” She exclaimed, and the snake loosens its grip on Ron just enough for him to wretch free.

Hermione drags him to his feet and you can only watch in horror as the snake attempts to come at the both of them now.

“Incendio!” She tries again but the fire fizzles out as soon as it touches the beast, as if the snake was made of ice.

It is your turn to sprint up the stairs but the snake whips its head around, baring its fangs at you as warning. You halt abruptly, forced to keep a distance, grasping your wand tightly. 

Hermione shares a pleading look.

It is useless. There are three of you against Nagini, and yet you were helpless without the sword.

This is not going to work. The snake won't die. Distracting it will only mean seriously harming or even killing one of you.

Your mind reels, you frantically scan your surroundings, looking for a solution. 

Then, you are graced with a miracle. Neville appears behind you, barrelling up the stairs, panting, his face caked in dirt and dried blood. He has the sword of Gryffindor in hand.

Hermione let's out another scream that snatches your attention, the snake has attempted to come at them again, and again, Ron has now resulted in shielding your girlfriend with his own body.

You have to kill it now.

As you take another step, Nagini shifts her point of attack, now preparing to lunge towards you.

“Y/n– here!” With only seconds to spare, Neville tosses the steel in your direction. You quickly drop your wand before you manage to catch the sword by the hilt, still unaccustomed to its weight, you grasp it with two hands.

Just like handling a beater's bat, you swing it, firm and hard, slicing the beast across its body mid-air.

There is no blood, instead the snake explodes into a rain of thin black ash, it is unlike anything you have ever seen before. It is all you can look at as you let the point of the sword fall by your feet.

For a while all you can hear is the clang of metal hitting the ground and a faint ringing in your ears, muffled by the sound of your own heavy breathing. 

Neville's touch on your shoulder snaps you out of a trance. “It's over, it's done.” 

Enough sense returns to you as you shift your gaze towards Hermione. Her expression mirrors your own.

The four of you are miraculously alive, and the snake is dead.

═══════════════════════════════════════════

In the aftermath, it did not take much convincing for you to agree to join Hermione, Harry and Ron for a walk along the bridge.

Thankful for fresh air, the afternoon sun was also a welcomed feeling upon your skin, for the first time in days, it felt like you could breathe.

As Hermione struts ahead, you manage to grab ahold of her arm, forcibly tugging her closer to your own body. 

She then lets out a noise in surprise once you capture her lips with your own, but she melts into the kiss just as quickly, your hand slips to the small of her back as she opens her mouth wider to welcome your tongue.

You continue like that without care for a while, until Ron deliberately interrupts your moment by verbalizing his thoughts.

“Bloody hell, give it a rest, you two.” He remarks, but his tone lacks its usual malice as he clears a path by kicking away pieces of rubble. 

You grimace as you feel Hermione pull away from embarrassment.

“Fuck off, Weasley.” You retaliate, and for reasons unbeknownst to you, the sound of Ron's laughter makes you smile.

You part Hermione’s hair away from her neck, tilting your head slightly to leave a trail of open mouthed kisses along her neck.

She smells like sweat– but, in truth, it has never been an unpleasant scent to you. Nothing about Hermione was ever unpleasant.

Even now, sleep deprived and unwashed, she was perfect.

You notice the way Hermione trembles at the sensation of your warm mouth upon her flesh.

It only works to entice you further, but before you can kiss her again, Hermione displays some semblance of self control. 

She braces her hands on your chest, shoving you lightly. “Not here.”

With a pout you meet her gaze and she only rolls her eyes at that, before rewarding you with a quick peck on the lips. 

“We both could use a bath later.” Hermione mutters suggestively, running her fingers through your hair.

A smirk tugs on your lips at that, but before you can retort with something clever, Hermione's gaze shifts to Harry.

The Chosen One stood at the edge of the bridge, where there was once a bannister, now just a stump of concrete and marble.

Harry is observing the wand in his hand as Hermione addresses him. “How come it didn't work for him, The Elder Wand?”

“It answered to somebody else.” Harry replies, turning to look at the three of you.

“When he killed Snape, he thought the wand would become his. but the thing is, the wand never belonged to Snape.”

“It was Draco, who disarmed Dumbledore on the Astronomy Tower, from that moment on, the wand answered him.” Harry explains, looking down to inspect it once more.

“Until, the other night, when I disarmed Draco at Malfoy Manor.” He continues and your eyes widen at the realization.

“So that means–” You gape, and Hermione turns to you in disbelief.

Harry nods. “It's mine.” He states, nonchalant as ever.

“What should we do with it?” Ron inquires, and Hermione merely grimaces.

“We?” She scolds.

“Ron's right, I mean, that's the Elder Wand. Most powerful in the world, with that, you'd be invisible.” You remark in support, now Hermione directs her scowl towards you, and you shrug innocently.

Although your expression twists once your gaze flits to Harry once again, he grunts as he struggles to break the wood in half.

You advanced forward to intervene, but it was too late. The wand snaps in two, like a twig. 

Harry turns around, chucking pieces of the most powerful wand in existence off the edge of the bridge.

You chase after it as far as your eyes can see before it disappears, forever.

“What the fuck–” Ron mutters under his breath in shared disbelief, yet Hermione only watches the both of you with amusement.

Then she grabs you by the collar, dragging you away from the ledge.

You are forced to follow as she falls in next to Harry, strolling back to the castle. 

Resisting the urge to confront Harry about what he had just done, you drape an arm across Hermione's shoulder, she welcomes it, intertwining your hands as you walked.

“I'm starving.” Ron remarks, trailing behind you. An effort to shift to a different, much simpler topic of conversation. 

“So am I.” Hermione replies.

“Yeah.. reckon The Three Broomsticks are still open?” You joke, and Harry is first to laugh, followed by your girlfriend and eventually, Ron.

You allow yourself a smile, it is one of relief. You relish in a careless joy you once thought you'd never get to experience again.