#i am afraid of his wellbeing | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

imrllytootiredforthis · 1 year

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Sub! Bsf lix noticing you getting off in public using your thighs under the table.even if you we're out with your friends,Every time it happens he turns his head away in a flash afraid to that he stared for too long . his ears are red and he gets starts to squirm a bit in his seat . Brushing off his concerned friends' questions about his wellbeing. It's a torture really so the next time you do it he ensures that you're too alone he'd muster all his courage to advance to you in a timid steps makeing you halt your moves before parting your thighs a bit and dropping between them he didn't dare to lift his head while asking with a red face and shaky voice to use his face...use him if you really want it this bad to the point of doing it in public

holy shitttttt

he notices it right away.

he's your best friend after all, of course he would notice.

the way you shift in your seat, the way you can't seem to sit still, the way that your neck is just the slightest bit red.

he notices.

and he peeks under the table, lifting the tablecloth a bit to see. see that the reason you keep moving so much is because of the way that you press your thighs together, rubbing them in a way that his face flushing scarlet.

he quickly looks away, trying to pretend that nothing is wrong but his pokerface is nowhere near as good as yours, turning red from head to toe, and fuck, he can feel himself getting hard now too.

he imagines it over and over, imagines doing something about it, imagines how good you would sound moaning as he whines against you from the fingers tugging his hair.

poor lixie can't help but squirm in the seat.

fuck

he wonders what you'd taste like, how you'd feel on his tongue, how you'd talk him.

maybe you'd call him a dirty little perv, maybe you'd call him a good kitten for you, maybe you'd call him a slut for getting on his knees for you in such a public place-in front of all your friends.

"you good?" he looks up at Chan, who looks back with concerned eyes, "sick? you're all red."

you look at him too now, worried, shifting imperceptibly.

his eyes flash down again,

he wonders how would your thighs feel around his head? soft-yes, so soft.

he loves your thighs, loves whenever you wear shorts around him and he can see your skin, so smooth and pretty, he can't help but want to squeeze them and love them,

he often fantasized about his head between them, he'd die a happy man between your thighs. his lips on them too, kissing and sucking marks onto them, tracing his fingers over them afterward, wondering how they-how you looked so fucking gorgeous, fucking his cock between them.

holy shit, he loves your thighs.

"Felix?"

Chan looks concerned now, as do the others but Chan specifically looks like he's about to pull his handy thermometer out of his bag and check his temperature like the mom he is.

'hmm just what i thought, you're sick, come on we're going home now.'

"I-i'm fine." he spluttered, in no way actually fine now that these thoughts had surfaced, but whatever.

everyone looks at him, unbelieving.

finally, you sigh. "c'mon, if you're sick you shouldn't be out, i'll take you home and we can watch some movies-i'll make you soup or something."

the thought. of being alone with you.

you and him. him and you.

in the dorms.

all alone.

"y'know, yeah, i am feeling a little under the weather,"

you're grabbing your stuff already as the words come out, telling the rest of the boys that you'll see them later and grabbing your best friend before dragging his sick ass out of there.

at the dorms you're not much better.

after he adamantly declines the soup, refusing to let you make him any you sigh and turn on a movie instead.

it plays in the background but he pays attention to none of it.

all he can really pay attention to is the way that your thighs still rub together, looking at the screen but he can tell you're not really watching.

he isn't either to be fair.

but thirty agonizing minutes? (he only knows because of how much time has played on the movie)

of this. of watching you and wishing he could do something. of wanting you to call him over to you and shove his face between your legs. of wanting and wishing and trying to hide how hard he is under the blanket.

he's surely slowly losing his mind. slowly surely losing it to horniness and lust and sinful thoughts. all while you're entirely unaware.

his mouth is nearly watering, his head is spinning, he's aching in his pants.

he needs you so bad.

so slowly he scoots closer to you. you don't seem to notice at first, too engrossed in something that isn't the movie.

you look at him funny. "Lix? what are you doing, lay back down you're si-..."

you trail off as he slinks down to the floor in front of you, looking up at you with doe eyes, searching for an answer. for a command. for anything.

"Lix?"

your voice is a whisper, barely a question as you know enough to read between the lines.

red face. pretty begging eyes looking down in shame. on his knees. hands twitching.

"tell me what you want."

he doesn't say anything, reaching up to rest his hands on your thighs soft and gentle, not doing anything but rubbing, kneading them, starting on the outside but gradually...gradually...

"please?"

he sounds so needy, so desperate, so cute and good and adorable.

"so polite," you finally say, spreading your legs open, just for him. "you gonna be good for me kitty?"

his eyes are fixated, fingers itching to pull down your pants, to do what he's been wanting to all night.

"c-can i?"

"go ahead pretty boy~"

#this is like a mini fic #i might write a pt.2 later on #inbox💌#fangirlnation✧#sub idol #hard thoughts #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #sub stray kids #dom reader #sub felix #felix x reader #felix smut #queued :p #stray kids hard thoughts

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just-a-girl-who-wrytes · 8 months

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Omg I just accidently found your blog and I'm so freaking happy, cause there are not enough writer who writes for Deacon 😭 unfortunately I'm super obsessed with him, with an unhealthy amount of fic ideas in my brain xD so I give it a try and send you one of those, hopefully jot annoying you with this (or with my shitty English, it's not my first language, so I'm sorry).

Well buckle up for my request:

Reader is a new Swat member and instantly everybody loves her, with her bubbly friendly self. She's bonding great with her teammates and especially her and Deacon grow super close (they develop feelings for each other but don't want to tell the each other afraid to ruin their friendship, so their feelings stay hidden). When one day a case goes sideways and it leaves her injured (maybe a concussion or something like that) Deacon blames himself for her injury and the next days he distances himself from her, cause he thinks that it is unhealthy for him to have such deep feelings for her and him constantly worrying for her wellbeing. She notices his change of behavior and she's super sad. He starts to being unfriendly to her and being a little bit of an ass?! Even alerting the other members with his behavior. The whole situation is taking a toll on her and she is starting to effecting not only her poor heart but also her health. (so maybe she falls sick, but keep it from her teammates especially Deacon, cause she thinks that after her injury during a case he thinks of her as not capable or something like that). That is until one day she doesn't show up to work which very uncommon for her, cause she's always on time and the first one at the station. They're all worrried and Hondo tells Deacon that he has to drive to her apartment. Well he tries to refuse and send Stress but Hondo insists, so Deacon drives to her apartment. He finds her suffering from a very high fever..... So maybe with a happy ending like Deacon regrets his shitty behavior, she instantly cries when she recognizes him in her feverish state, asking him why he hates her suddenly, which is now breaking his heart. He cares for her and nurses her back to health, or at first tries to bring her fever down. Later he confesses why he was an asshole.

Soooorry it's so long. There's so pressure for you to write this. Maybe you just want to use some ideas? Well I would be so happy.

Please take care lovely

Here you go, hope you enjoy!

“Nice!” Luca exclaimed as the team watched you send rounds down range from your firearm.

With the increase in officer related shootings, LAPD had decided to provide each team a SWAT medic and you were the newest member of 20 squad.

“Who knew girls can shoot?” You heard Deacon asked. You turned to playfully scowl at him and noticed him wink at you.

“Better watch it, Kay, or I’ll show you just how good I really am.”

You had been a part of the team for just over two months and they were the best guys you had ever worked with in your career. You truly became a part of their family – you had their backs and they had yours. There was one that was different though.

David Kay.

You had noticed him watching you on more than one occasion, stealing winks from you, sharing small, flirtatious smiles. You weren’t sure if your attraction to him was mutual or not, but if you had to guess, you would say yes. However, you didn’t want to complicate anything by dating one of your teammates and you didn’t want to ruin the friendship you had developed with Deacon. You assumed Deacon adopted the same mindset because he never brought it up either.

However, that didn’t mean your flirting with each other fell on blind eyes.

The entire team noticed it and often gave you both shit over it.

You both were in the middle of denying another teasing round of friends with benefits accusations from your teammates when you were dispatched to a school shooting.

The mood immediately sobered up as all of you put on your gear and grabbed your bags and firearms. The ride to the school in Black Betty was quiet minus updates from Hondo.

“Stay liquid, guys,” He told the team as you pulled up on scene.

There were multiple reports of injured children inside of the school.

This call was all yours.

It was going to be your job to go inside and assess each injured child to see how critically injured they were. It was your team’s job to protect you while you did that. You were going in without any knowledge of where the shooter was, but you knew if you had children, you would want someone to go in and save your baby. You swallowed your fear and prepared to do your job.

You got out of the armored truck and took your spot in the middle of your team. You slowed your breathing down to get your heart rate under control and keep your emotions in check.

Deacon made sure that he stayed close to you as you entered the school. He knew his teammates would have your back too, but he felt… differently about you. He cared about you a lot. He had quickly fallen for your smile and your personality. You didn’t let the team’s banter intimidate you one bit from the start. You were quick and witty with your playfulness with them. You were smart as hell when it came to medicine and you had proven to be a solid member of the SWAT team in training exercises and on calls you had run together. He wanted so badly to ask you out to dinner, but he wasn’t willing to change the dynamic of the team by adding a relationship to the mix. However, that didn’t mean he couldn’t be protective over you – whether you noticed it or not.

That was why Deacon had taken it so personally when you were knelt down, applying a tourniquet to a fourth-grade student’s leg and got shot by the hidden gunman. His team covered him while he immediately turned to you to make sure you were okay. The round had struck your vest, but you knew it had broken ribs. The pain you felt in your side was unmistakable. Regardless, you threw your body over the child’s to protect her from the gunfire that ensued. Deacon and Luca dragged you both behind a desk behind a wall in a classroom.

“Are you okay?” Deacon asked without taking his aim from the door way.

“We’ve got to get her out of here.” You ignored his question as you continued to try and stop the little girl’s bleeding.

Your voice was forced and you were breathy.

“I asked if you were okay,” Deacon said angrily.

“I’m fine.” You retorted.

You soon heard Tan’s voice over the radio that the shooter had been neutralized. You didn’t know if there was more than one shooter, but didn’t see any signs of one so far. When you got the clear from Hondo, you radioed for another team to come in and get the girl out and get her to a hospital. Once she was safely removed, you resumed your formation in the middle of the team to continue to clear the school building. Deacon could tell you were injured because you didn’t shoulder your firearm correctly, but he didn’t see any blood so he let it go. He was pissed off at you for not stopping and going to get help yourself, but he was even more pissed off at himself for not seeing the gunman before he shot at you.

It took two hours to clear the rest of the school and stabilize the remaining children. By the time you were done, you were visibly diaphoretic and short of breath. You could hardly manage three words without stopping to catch your breath.

“20-David to command,” Deacon radioed, “We need an EMS unit to our location, we have a team member who needs to be checked out.”

You were in pain, you couldn’t breathe, and you were pissed off that Deacon asked for EMS without consulting you first.

“Why did you do that?!” You managed to asked through clenched teeth. “These children need those paramedics.” You took a few shallow breaths, “Not me! Cancel. Them.”

If looks could kill, your sergeant would be the one who needed a medic unit, not you.

“Officer,” Deacon said sternly, “You look like hell and you cannot breathe.”

You started to open your mouth to cut him off, but he started speaking loudly again.

“Now, I suggest you shut up and listen to your sergeant. I am not the one who takes orders from you.”

His harsh words hit you harder than the bullet hit your ballistic vest and left you just as speechless. David had never been so disrespectful to you. If the paramedics hadn’t arrived to assess you, you would have turned in your badge right there. You knew the rest of the team had noticed as well because they were all silent which pissed you off even more. Where was your support?

The paramedics tried helping you onto the stretcher, but you refused it. Despite not being able to speak for being short of breath. You held onto the stretcher for support and walked to the ambulance. By the time you finally made it outside to the ambulance, you were physically unable to get into the ambulance because you were hurting so bad and so short of breath. The EMS providers finally convinced you to get onto the stretcher and they were able to load you into the truck.

When you arrived to the ER, you were taken to a trauma room due to the fact that you had technically been shot. Your chest x-ray revealed a collapsed lung due to the broken ribs.

The rest of the team finished debriefing before being cleared to leave for the day. Hondo met Deacon in the quiet locker rooms since most of everyone else had already left.

“Deac…” Hondo paused, knowing he needed to tread carefully, “What was up back at the school? I have never heard you speak to anyone like that – especially one of our teammates.”

Deacon slammed his locker shut.

“Hondo, now ain’t the time, brother.”

The lieutenant raised his hands in surrender. “Okay, I won’t press, but I do ask that you consider an apology. It was unwarranted today. We all performed immaculately given the circumstances.”

“No, Hondo. No. We did not all perform immaculately.” His tone was biting.

Deacon walked passed Hondo and left the locker rooms. He left the station and threw his duffel bag in the backseat of his truck. He climbed in, started it, and drove to a nearby lake that off the road and would likely be deserted after dark on a week night. He parked in the dark and slammed his fists against the steering wheel in frustration.

Tears filled his eyes as he mentally kicked himself in the ass for missing the shooter that injured you today. He didn’t fight the tears as they spilled down his cheeks. What had gotten into him? Why were you different? Why was he so upset? Why did you getting injured bother him so badly? You were okay and you were expected to make a full recovery according to Hicks. Where along the line had he developed feelings and why was he so afraid of talking to you about them?

You spent 6 days in the hospital, 4 of those with a chest tube before being discharged home. During your entire hospital stay, Deacon had not been by to see you once despite daily visits from the rest of your teammates. It made you mad, but most of all, it hurt your feelings. You really liked you sergeant – or you thought that you did. His actions since you had been injured spoke louder than any words that could have been said.

Luca and Chris were there to take you home and help you get settled. They carried your bags in and Chris helped you unpack your things while Luca cooked supper for the three of you. Chris helped you remove your bra so you could put on a loose, comfy t-shirt. Being the only females on the squad left you two comfortable around each other.

“That is one hell of a bruise, babe.” She said as she looked at your black and purple side.

You had to agree – the entire left side of your torso was bruised. It looked awful. Thankfully, the doctors had been able to help manage your pain with narcotics.

“I’m glad it finally looks worse than it feels… Which is saying a lot because it still hurts like hell.”

You slipped on a pair of sleep shorts and made your way back into your kitchen with Chris.

You took a pain pill and joined your teammates in your living room to eat the spaghetti that Luca made.

“Thank you so much for taking care of me guys,” You said several hours later as you walked Luca and Chris to your door.

“That’s what we’re here for, love,” Luca said, pulling you into a gentle hug.

You kissed his cheek, “Supper was delicious, Dom. Thank you times a million.”

He returned the kiss to your cheek and Chris pulled you in for a hug.

“Call us if you need anything?”

You smiled at her after the hug, “You know I will.”

You settled onto your couch with a glass of wine. You knew the alcohol and narcotic wasn’t the smartest elixir, however, you needed to mask more than your physical pain.

You couldn’t get Deacon off your mind and your heart had yet to stop hurting. Your emotional pain screamed much louder than your physical pain.

“Dammit!” You heard through clouded consciousness. “What the fuck?”

You felt yourself being picked up and carried to your bed. You recognized a familiar cologne but quickly disregarded the scent and winced at the pain in your ribs before drifting back off to sleep.

You woke up the next morning nearly in tears again as you entered a coughing spell. You managed to get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen where your pain pills were, but you were scared shitless by a man sitting at your kitchen table. As soon as your heart began racing with fear, the fear subsided, realizing that it was Deacon sitting inside of your home.

“Jesus Christ! What the fuck, David?” You held your chest with one hand and braced your broken ribs with the other.

He didn’t answer you.

You ignored his silence and took your morning pain medication.

“Ya know… I said the same thing last night when I came over and found you unconscious on your couch. So, I can also say, what the fuck? What were you thinking?” Deacon’s voice grew steadily louder as he stood up and turned to you. “Pain pills and alcohol?”

You were angry. “Something to make this shit stop hurting,” You spat as you snatched up the side of your shirt to reveal your black and blue torso.

You could tell the extent of your injuries caught Deacon off guard. His facial expression softened and he didn’t respond.

You let go of your shirt, letting it fall back down to your waist and continued fixing yourself a glass of water to take your pain pill with. You took your medicine and continued to ignore your sergeant as you turned your back to him to get the milk out of your refrigerator to fix yourself a bowl of cereal. His hand stopped yours mid-air reaching for your cabinet. He gently held your wrist with one hand and you felt the edge of your shirt being lifted again. He let go of your hand, staring at the bruising that covered you. You could sense his demeanor soften.

There was a long silence as he took in your injuries.

“I’m so sorry…” He whispered.

The tone in his voice felt like a hug to your soul.

“Deacon-” You turned around to face him.

“No, listen to me,” he interrupted you. “This…” He grazed his fingertip down your side, “is all my fault.”

The confusion was written all over your face.

“I should have seen that bastard before he ever had a chance at you.”

You began shaking your head but you weren’t quite sure what to say.

“You’ve been an asshole to me ever since it happened, David, what the hell has changed now?” You were beginning to grow angry again.

“Look, I am so, so sorry.” His voice was gentle. “I should have stopped that guy before he shot you. I shouldn’t have snapped at you like I did. I should have visited you in the hospital. You are a teammate and I failed you, but I really should have told you from the get-go that I have developed feelings for you.” He didn’t take a breath the entire time he spoke so you struggled to follow him, but his last sentence hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Excuse me?”

“Ever since you have been on the team with us, you have become more than just a teammate to me. Truthfully, I have liked you from the day that I met you and my attraction to you has only grown every single day. I like you so much more than just as a teammate. I would dare say that I am falling in love with you.” He slowly reached up to cradle your face with his hand, hesitant, wondering if you would allow him to touch you.

You did.

“I am so, so sorry that I have treated you so poorly this week – so wrong. It had nothing to do with you and everything to do with the fact that I hate myself for not being able to protect you like I should have. I’ve been so afraid to let you know how I feel about you. I’m sorry I was more afraid of affecting the team than I was giving you the honesty that you deserve. Please, please forgive me.”

He looked into your eyes as he nervously chewed on his bottom lip.

“Deacon…” You said quietly, leaning into his hand caressing your jaw.

He took a deep breath and continued, “If you don’t feel the same way, I understand, but I came over here last night to apologize and tell you all of this. When I found you passed out on the couch, barely responsive, it frustrated me. So, I stayed here last night to make sure you were okay. Please don’t be mad.”

Silence fell between you while you considered how to respond. Given the emotions that you had worked through over the past week, going from feelings for your partner, to physical and emotional hurt, to anger towards David for not visiting, texting or calling, resentment towards yourself for having feelings towards David despite how cruel he had been to you with his absence while you had been hospitalized, you struggled to find any words.

Deacon watched you suffer through a week’s worth of feelings as he watched your eyes. You took a deep breath.

He decided that you were taken too long to respond and if he didn’t act now, he never would.

He leaned down and softly pressed his lips on yours.

You instinctively closed your eyes and allowed David to kiss you. When you didn’t pull away, he parted his lips just enough to run his tongue tenderly along your bottom lip. You opened your lips, allowing him to kiss you deeper. You began to return the kiss when David went to place his hands on your waist, forgetting about your injuries. You stopped kissing him and winced.

“God, I’m so sorry,” he said.

“It’s okay.” You whispered, your voice shaky.

Deacon noticed the tears that trickled down your cheeks.

He wiped them away with his thumbs and began apologizing to you again.

You interrupted him with another kiss. You reached up and intertwined your fingers behind his head, softly rubbing his neck with your fingertips. He moaned quietly into the kiss. He grabbed your arm and squeezed it, needing to touch you, but being mindful of your injuries. You enjoyed the feeling of his tall, muscular body, towering over yours. You felt protected.

“Deacon?”

He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing a stand of hair behind your ear, “Mmhmm?”

“I love you.”

"I love you too."

#christina alonso #david kay #dominic luca #hondo harrelson #imagine #jay harrington #jim street #swat #swat cbs #david deacon kay #Deacon #David deacon kay #deacon x reader #deacon fanfic #deacon kay x reader #swat officer #love #swat x reader #swat imagines

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opencommunion · 6 months

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July 2014

Gaza-based writer Hedaya Shamun writes — although her writing rituals have disappeared — about the world she sees around her in the first and second nights of “Operation Protective Edge.”

"You all slaughtered Gaza, you all reaped from her heart and you shut your doors and ears in her face. You saw that she is a black spot on your beautiful lives and she has become a burden on your hearts and wellbeing. Before the aggression all of you contributed to her disappointment and you perceived the nourishment of the small children as begging. You said what had not been said about her, but every time she would remind you that she is greater than calling you out on your sins. For who among us is sinless, O gentlemen? But she is a rose whose delightful fragrance wafted with the sea of blood that restored your senses and your love and perhaps your hatred. Some have expressed this hatred and some retreated and some turned a blind eye and some unsheathed their strength to extract her nectar with the hissing of the Israeli warplanes.

... How will we return to life its splendor after the bodies of the young are stolen? He carries his body in his hands and needs no coffin. His hands have become a coffin for his child shrouded in white cloth. He walks with his head high and his tears flowing. But he is lucky that he is still alive to pay his child the last honors. Entire families were buried in their homes and no one remained to pay them these last honors. It is so simple. In this civilized world of international rights and conventions and the right to life and the right to housing and the right to education and the right of expression, these rights are not for Palestinians but for someone else…

Who really cares about women running in prayer clothes, the ones at hand when they escaped from the black hatred descending upon them from the top of a rocket shattering her dreams and making them a morsel appropriate for suffering and oppression and pain. She carries a child; she carries a bloody heart; she carries pain. She forgets an elderly person and she forgets her own heart in the corner of the house. She is afraid to look back so that she does not see her loved ones imbued with their blood. She runs and keeps running without end because if she stops she will never run again.

There are no spaces for life. No place to return. All of Gaza bids farewell to herself every night and congratulates those who remain alive the morning of another day. They inspect their bodies then run their hands over the living. They close their eyes then open them, and once again call the members of their families one by one…so that the memory of their names does not fail and their spirits do not disappear. Who cries for whom? The unlucky are left alone to survive without a family as it was martyred in its entirety.

... A bloody night in Rafah. The shelling has not stopped nor did it go silent. I write a word and I am delirious with words. Where do we live? And why this abominable silence towards our death? Is our death that cheap? Do our lives mean anything to anyone? Is it enough that you cry, shed tears, and that a choking in the heart come upon you? You are the hope to scream loudly against Israeli murder and terrorism. You are the hope to translate the sufferings of these people and their lives that disappeared in a push of a button by a pilot playing frivolously in his warplane like a spoiled child does with an expensive toy. He kills, destroys, and takes revenge on the children of Palestine.

A bloody night. This is my account of just one night. Would you bear another night?"

#palestine

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chaotic-iguana · 9 months

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hello, hi. you don’t know me but i know who u are KAMSK JK hi kali.

if you’re still doing these, i’d like to request a little SFW joel blurb of:

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.”

tysm, *bows*

hello, hi. wow i wonder who found my askbox (hi bee hru babe) i am doing these? its i mean it was supposed to be a 400 followers celebration but im on 500 now so lets keep it rolling. I LOVE THE BLURB. love u thank u for the bow ahfdkjfhsdhf no outbreak au, husband! joel universe because its been too long. wordcount: 0.28k

masterlist.

Care | husband! joel x reader

You swear you loved your husband, but you just wanted to murder him sometimes. Only sometimes.

See - it was cute, that he loved you this much and he wasn’t afraid of showing it. In its own way, adorable too, the fact that he was this worried about your wellbeing.

But on the other fucking hand, you were mildly injured. Mildly. And being bounced bridal-style in his arms as he carried you from the kitchen to the couch. What a long, arduous journey. Thank god you had your knight in shining armor.

“Please put me down, it’s just a sprained ankle.” Joel huffed, ignoring you. You raised a brow at him, reaching hand up to flick his nose. He just shook his head and continued carrying you into the living room.

“I can see that, sweetheart. ‘S besides the point. Y’gotta rest and ice that so you can be back on your feet ‘s soon as damn possible, y’ know?” Seeing you roll your eyes, he reached down to plant a kiss on your head.

“Jus’ let me take care of you sometimes, honey.” You snorted, reaching your arms out for him from the couch. He acquiesced, settling his large frame over you, lying in your lap with his head against your stomach.

“Don’t need taking care of, dumbo.” His head shot up, eyes giving you a look so incredulous you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’m not the one who slipped on Sarah’s very obvious toy truck, dumbo.” The sound of a word that stupid coming from his mouth - drawled out in his playful tone - just made you laugh harder.

Just wait till he got a sore back. You’d fucking carry him everywhere too. See how he likes it.

hello loves, as always - thank you for reading. comment your thoughts or find me on ao3. stay hydrated and have a great day! taglist (message to be taken off): @imherefordeanandbones, @theywhowriteandknowthings, @josephquinnswhore, @millerscoffee, @nostalxgic, @sscorpiiio, @pedrosaidsheispunk, @breakfastatjoels, @its-nebuleuse, @sofiparallel, @mandoisapunk, @bastardmandennis, @pawnshopblues22, @evyiione, @amanitacowboy, @party-hearses. divider by @reveriesources.

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swallowerofdharma · 2 months

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Yashiro’s Cruel God part one

Disclaimer: this post contains a detailed and straightforward analysis of chapter 25. Doumeki isn’t the villain, if you were worried about that. Actually I must apologize because I wanted to talk about him too, but as usual I started this meta with Yashiro and got carried away. This is also why I am dividing it in parts to avoid having a very very long post. So other parts will hopefully follow to fully elaborate the premise I made. Thank you for understanding. And please take care of your wellbeing, if mentioning Yashiro’s stepfather upset you, maybe skip this one.

Premise: not a matter of perfection but of balance

This person I followed reblogged the Declarations of healthy adulthood by David Richo in big big font and - having only one thought on my mind apparently - I read all that text in Yashiro’s POV. I actually don’t think that this is a perfect model or anything, and I am generally skeptical of self help books (I only assume this is something like it), but why not use this as an example, while considering something that I find interesting about Yashiro and Doumeki? During the discussion about the latest chapter, I said something along the lines of Doumeki representing young love, while Yashiro’s approach has been more mature, and I meant it thinking about Yashiro being aware and cautious about hurting others [and being intentional when he does, since he put a bullet in Doumeki’s leg] and being quite self reliant, and yes I know that he is also afraid of being hurt/loved! in previous posts here, I have mentioned that Yashiro’s acceptance of his past is only-in-part denial or downplaying of trauma, because it has been also a strategy and an impressive sign of his maturity and determination to live in the present. Isn’t it exceptional that Yashiro doesn’t seem all that resentful of his parents? That he openly says that he doesn’t blame others? We have to confront his words always mindful of the fact that he usually is an unreliable narrator, but in many instances he says the truth or half truths and his demeanor confirmed that he did some of what David Richo proposes: I accept full responsibility for the shape my life has taken; I accept that I may never feel I am receiving - or have received - all the attention I seek; One by one, I drop every expectation of people and things; I let go of blame, regret, vengeance, and the infantile desire to punish those who hurt or reject me; No one can or needs to bail me out. I am not entitled to be taken care of by anyone or anything, I let go of control without losing control.

I thought that it was very interesting to consider the Yashiro/Doumeki dynamics from different angles, like older/younger, or even realist/romantic, for example. The point of this experiment isn’t to make a comparison of merit nor to talk about a character in better light than another. Maybe those differences need to be confronted or balanced: for example the realist maybe needs some of the romantic’s idealism to soar and not be stuck on the ground. Yoneda-san might be onto something so human and amazing here. An important clarification is due before saying anything else. As characters that are written as full human beings, with their complexity and contradictions, Yashiro and Doumeki can’t be put neatly into the opposite categories I proposed. The story is much more dynamic, so I ask you to take a further step and put those opposites at the ends of a spectrum and to move our characters freely in both directions. Yashiro tends toward being effectively the older and more realistic one but he has traits that make him move down towards the other end too, even to the extreme of being childish. Consider for example these other statements, from the Declarations of healthy adulthood: I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts; When change and growth scare me, I still choose them. I may act with fear, but never because of it; I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me; If people knew me as I really am, they would love me for being human like them. These points clearly demonstrate Yashiro’s unresolved problems, where he is stuck if you want, and why probably nobody believed me when I pointed at him as being mature (eh, he has his moments tho, you can’t deny that).

I challenge everyone to consider that those four points in particular are quite challenging for most people in general, but particularly so for someone who has fear/betrayal as the foundational principle in their childhood instead of a normal amount even a scarse amount of parental love/safety. And I want to underline childhood here, not teenage years or later.

I need never fear my own truth, powers, fantasies wishes, thoughts, sexuality, dreams, or ghosts. Yashiro here is a mix of contradictions, because he outwardly seems to own those things, even making them a point of his persona, but most of those things are based on the lies he told himself, or his stepfather told him: see this other point

I am still safe when I cease following the rules my parents (or others) set for me. Isn’t this statement extremely helpful to understand Yashiro’s situation? To feel safe he had to build his personality according to the rules of the one who had all the power over him and had already taken away any sense of security from him. This is probably one of those things that can be hard to understand when you have never been there. Most notably, not only in the manga this has been pointed out, but it has been pointed out by Yashiro himself. He is self conscious of this, he knows that he lied to himself as a child, that he had to, and he is constantly choosing to continue lying because that is still the only foundation he has. There was no familial love, no other relative safety. Letting go of the lies actually means going to pieces and breaking down.

This isn’t different from what happens to people who are tortured. Yashiro’s father completely took away any sense of security and safety. The aggravating circumstances were that Yashiro as a child didn’t have any other point of reference or knowledge to understand what was happening with his body and in that state of mind what his father told him had to be the only truth possible. Parents who abuse their children most often don’t even realize what they are doing to its full extent. That’s the immense cruelty of these types of situations. The rules are lies, but the lies are rules to follow to be safe:

You like it when it hurts, right? If it doesn’t hurt, I can’t get into it.

What happened in chapter 25: why now?

Yashiro didn’t want to have sex with Doumeki and said so repeatedly. Doumeki has grown on him, behind liking his physical appearance or using him as a substitute for Kageyama: Yashiro truly liked this person and he liked that Doumeki was impotent. Thanks to that, Yashiro grew comfortable around Doumeki and with comfort and safety comes familiarity. When Yashiro discovered that the impotence was gone, he was angry and terrified. They had become too close and now the premise has changed and Yashiro couldn’t trust Doumeki or himself anymore. I won’t analyze here the scene in the shower but I’ll skip to the point. Doumeki only understood that his love was required, that he was wanted and stopped thinking. He acted passionately like any young person who had a normal foundation in love would. He didn’t understand anything that Yashiro asked or why there were mixed signals and what it all meant. He pushed and hurt and broke without being aware of what he was doing.

And Yashiro was trapped in a situation he had tried to escape from his all life: with a person who felt familiar, a person he loved and relied on, in the safety of a home, who wanted sex and was going to do what he wanted regardless of what Yashiro had to say. Yashiro desperately tried to control what was happening through usual patterns, making it hurt, asking Doumeki to do from behind, detaching the sex from his emotions, but he couldn’t and for the first time in his life sex was different from what he knew, because while Yashiro had loved his stepfather, his father didn’t love him and he didn’t treat him like Doumeki did. And every lies built around his father’s abuse came to the surface. Including the fact that his father never loved him. Doumeki broke him indeed because he broke through the lies/rules upon which Yashiro had intentionally built his entire personality/safety. And he wasn’t ready for it, he specifically said he didn’t want it, he had known all along, he already knew when men before Doumeki tried to make love to him and when he built a strategy to specifically avoid being confronted with those lies/rules. He didn’t love those men. He did love Doumeki though. But once again Yashiro didn’t have a choice. And he was physically hurt and recovering after being shot and knowing his life was in danger outside of that room. He had just discovered that Doumeki lied about being impotent the previous time he touched him in the car and before that. It was probably the worst timing possible for making love. At some point Yashiro grew resigned and even reciprocated a little, reaching for Doumeki, caressing his face, and he even reassured him before he fell asleep. There were words that Doumeki said that Yoneda didn’t disclose fully, choosing instead to immediately took us in the flashback with Yashiro. I think it is probable that what Doumeki said was something that Yashiro’s father had said and that we are going to confront before the end of the manga. I personally want to know these words more than what Yashiro said while an airplane passed by and Doumeki was unconscious. Morbid maybe on my part.

I have stated that I am not going to make Doumeki a villain here. The point of this analysis is just to see where Doumeki was in terms of maturity. To be continued…

#saezuru tori wa habatakanai #saezuru analysis #yashiro #doumeki chikara #yashiro x doumeki #yoneda kou #eri reads saezuru

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multi-fandom-imagine · 2 years

Text

Not that drunk || Daemon Targaryen ||

A/n: I am doing it!! Based off this. Writing this before I head into work { I got three hours }

Also this is a crack fic, Daemon is obviously gonna be out of character here.

You couldn’t help but feel giddy, you were finally were married to the man you loved. You were finally married to Daemon Targaryen. You would have never thought that a girl like you would, some commoner marrying a Prince. Shifting in your seat you noticed the man sipping on his wine. You weren’t quite sure how much he drank but you couldn’t help but find the expression on his face rather adorable.

“Careful love, you might fall asleep before he get the chance to even consummate our wedding.” You teased though the man let out a scoff. A slow smile forming on his face though it looked more of a smirk to you as he grasped your hand gently on his.

“You we’re not saying that a few nights ago love when you were screaming my name.”

Rolling your eyes you let the man kiss your hand before you pulled away. “I will be right back…please do not get yourself into any trouble Daemon.”

You weren’t gone that long, truly you just wanted to speak to Rhaenyra, you just did not think the man, your husband would be this intoxicated. Stepping close you watched as Daemon stumbled towards you. The expression would have been adorable if you were not concerned about your husband's wellbeing.

“Daemon are you alright?”

Blinking a few times, Daemon grasped your hand then pulled you too his chest. You felt his breath fan across your neck as the man gave it a small muzzle. “You are so beautiful, now tell me Y/n…do you have the attention of anyone.”

Blinking a few times you tried to register what Daemon had just said to you. Did he just ask if you were single, did he not know that you two were married or was he just that drunk?

Giving him a smile you placed your hand on his cheek. “I am afraid I am Daemon.” You teased though you never thought it would turn in a different direction.

You weren’t quite sure what made his lip trembled and you could have sworn you noticed something in the man’s eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

Though it did not take long for you to feel the extra on your body.Harwin quickly rushing to your side taking the now unconscious man from your arms. “I will take him to your chambers my lady.”

A sigh left your lips as you tipped your head to the man. “Thank you.”

This was going to be an interesting morning, just we’re not sure how to explain this to your husband but luckily you did not have to.

•

When Daemon first awoke he expected for you to be naked by his side not Rhaenyra standing in the doorway. Wincing a scowl formed on his face as he did his best to push away the pounding in his head.

“Why are you here and where is Y/n?”

“She is taking care of Caraxe, though I must admit that seeing you intoxicated was rather a funny site.”

Scowling he turned his head away. “I was not that drunk last night.”

Raising her brows, Rhaenyra crossed her arms over her chest. “You were flirting with y/n.”

“She is my wife, I am allowed to flirt with her.” Daemon said threw his teeth, at the moment all he wanted to do was to see you.

“You had asked her if she was single, and then you cried then passed out in your arms when she said she was.”

Narrowing his eyes he tried to see if the young woman was lying though seeing the rather pleased look on her face he moved the sheets off quickly changing, not caring that his shirt was barley covering his chest.

“Where are you going?!” Rhaenyra called out to him.

“I am going to make up for my failed wedding night!”

#drabbles #drabble #daemon targaryen x you #daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen #house of dragons x you #house of dragons x reader #house of dragons #house of the dragons x reader #house of the dragons #house of the dragon x y/n #house of the dragon x you #house of the dragon #game of thrones x y/n #game of thrones x you #game of thrones x reader #games of thrones #crack fic

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starlightshadowsworld · 3 months

Text

Bsd but Atsushi is a lot more aware, a lot more wary. And all the Agency want is to give him a home.

"Welcome to the Armed Detective Agency."

Atsushi shakes his head "No thanks." He's tired, too tired to deal with this right now. "I'm afraid I don't follow" says Fukuzawa, frowning and he wasn't the only one.

Dazai looks confused and Kunikida concerned.

"Listen, you guys seem nice and I'll pay you back for the meal" at that Atsushi briefly looks at Kunikida before looking back at Fukuzawa.

"But you don't want me." He says it so definitely, like no one could ever argue otherwise. "And why, would we not? You passed our exam" Says Fukuzawa and Atsushi shakes his head again.

He's slouching and keeping his head low, all in an effort to make himself smaller.

"You want the tiger, and no offence but that's stupid." Says Atsushi bluntly.

"The tiger is not your friend, not your ally. It's a wild and uncontrolled beast. You seem like a kind man who's surrounded himself by good people. You don't want this, it'll only spell despair got you all."

Fukuzawa is suprised to hear such, hatred in Atsushi's voice. Dazai knew Atsushi had a poor self image, but even this level of vitriol takes him by suprise.

As does the empty look in his eyes. When he'd met Atsushi he saw a bright light, one that's nowhere to be found.

"My ability can help others to keep control over theirs, and you've already seen Dazai's at work. Your ability will not cause us or yourself harm." Atsushi seems confused at that last part, and that breaks Fukuzawa's heart.

Why does a child look so confused at the idea of his own wellbeing being taken into account?

"I left one cage and I won't let you put me in another.." Says Atsushi, a growl in his voice. But it only betrays his fear. "The tiger doesn't like to be contained, and neither do I."

Atsushi shakes his head "and I didn't even know this was for an entrance exam." Dazai doesn't really want to pull the other card, it is underhanded but Atsushi needs to understand he's in danger.

"Atsushi, a bounty has been put on your head. The Port Mafia and other criminal organisations will be after you. The Agency can keep you safe from harm."

To Dazai's suprise Atsushi just shrugs. "And? What you think this is news to me? The Headmaster would tell me everytime I messed up he'd sell me to the highest bidder."

At that the entire Agency goes still with rage.

"I appreciate your help, but I'm good. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to go before it gets dark." Says Atsushi, turning to leave.

"Atsushi, you said earlier we want the tiger. But what if we want you. You did pass after all, you seem like you'd be good here." Says Dazai.

Once again, Atsushi suprises him by laughing. It's harsh, cold and almost sarcastic. "We're serious" Says Fukuzawa, coming to back Dazai up. Atsushi looks at them for one of the few times during this meeting.

His eyes may be empty and cold, but they only show just how in pain he is.

"Don't lie to me. You want the tiger, it's the whole reason you guys were looking for me." Says Atsushi and Dazai nods "that's true, but circumstances change."

His voice becomes softer, gentle like he's talking to a scared animal, a scared child. "Is it so werid that we might actually like you and want you around?"

"No one wants me" Says Atsushi, his words hollow and borderline emotionless. "Not my parents not the Orphanage and definitely not you." He looks out the window, like he's reminiscing.

"I bring nothing but misfortune onto others. It's who I am, everyone wants the tiger but not me. Fyodor wants the tiger, the Guild or rather Fitzgerald wants the tiger, Shibusawa wanted the tiger. Everyone wants the tiger."

Atsushi looks Dazai dead in the eye.

"So do you. I can see it in your eyes. Don't lie to me, you all might be too nice to say it. But no ones ever wanted me, and that won't start now." And as those as his parting words, Atsushi leaves.

Fukuzawa raises a hand "let him go" he says. "But President, we can't let him just..." Says Kunikida and Fukuzawa nods. "I know, but all we'll now is scare him off. He has no reason to trust us, that is something we'll have to earn."

He's right but if still hurts to watch Atsushi run off.

Dazai can't help but be reminded of another thinks of another kid, now years older. One with dark red hair and piercing blue eyes full of distrust and anger.

Everyone wanted him for one thing too, a gift he couldn't quite control.

Dazai wants Atsushi to join, of course he does. Does he have a plan to put together a new Soukoko, of course he does

But does Dazai also see a hurt, terrified kid and want to help him? Yes. A kid who believes he's better off dead but wants nothing more than to live.

The President was right, they needed to gain Atsushi's trust. To show him that he was cared for, not simply for the beast underneath his skin.

Dazai knew he'd already gotten attached, so had Kunikida and everyone else who'd met the kid.

Maybe they all saw themselves in this lost boy.

And hopefully they could bring him back home.

#long post #atsushi nakajima #bsd atsushi #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #fukuzawa yukichi #bsd fukuzawa #bsd kunikida #bungou stray dogs #bsd #bsd chuuya #The Wary Weretiger

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bludazey · 3 months

Text

Goodnight Socialite

(Ascendant Astarion x Tav) AU

Summary:

His head tilts down, his lips barely brushing the shell of her ear. “You know, if half the men in our court knew even a fraction of what you do, they would run the other way.”

“They would run hoping you wouldn’t catch them. We are not the same, my lord.”

Chapter 1: Chase Me

She holds on to her father’s arm as she is escorted briskly down the main hall of Ancunin manor, glittering blue skirts brushing the exquisite crimson carpets.

“Year after year, and he still hasn’t gotten rid of these tasteless canvases,” her father mutters beneath his breath. “Lord Cazador was a grim man, and it seems so is his usurper.”

The paintings that fly past them are vague renditions of desolate homes, with skeleton trees, and dim skies. They embody the kind of art that drags you to consequential depths if you stare for long enough.

“Lord Ancunin has always had a taste for the macabre,” she murmurs.

“You speak like you know the man.”

“I only know what I hear, father.”

“And what do you hear, Anastasia?” He turns his face sharply to her as she is dragged down the hall, closer, and closer to the ballroom. “Is he as kind, and understanding as he makes himself out to be in court? Is there nothing wicked beneath those eyes that gleam so uncannily crimson?”

Even the thought of those red eyes inching down her skin sends a shiver up her spine. “I hear nothing damning from the ladies.”

“The ladies.” A harsh, singular laugh. “Since when do you keep up with Baldur’s Gate gossip?”

“I must, father,” she insists, partially running to catch up with his long strides. “You drag me from city to city, and I mustn’t be left without conversation to hold.”

At last, they arrive before two guards flanking the large entry doors. Armed with golden greatswords, they bow their heads in unison.

Her father smiles at both of them, and apologetically, says, “We are late, I am afraid.”

In practiced synchrony, the guards simply reach to the ornate door handles and pull. Already, Anastasia can hear the sweeping of music, unmuted, flowing openly down the hall.

Her father tugs her forward, nodding to the guards as they enter that famed ballroom.

As always, there is too much happening at once. Tucked away in the far corner, the orchestra plays a gentle tune, coaxing the many guests to sway to an uppity rhythm. There are servants snaking around large skirts, and drunken gentlemen engaged in endless loud conversation. There are silver platters being waved around constantly, the servants doling out wine, and hors d’oeuvres to whoever will look them in the eye.

Her father immediately recognizes a few men ahead, and words are exchanged—quick assurances of wellbeing, and promises to chat. But Anastasia insistently pulls him away, for everyone must pay their respects to the host before indulging in the festivities.

It is custom, after all.

And so, Anastasia leads her father through the crowd of people, and finally, they reach the dais towards the back of the ballroom. Atop it is a singular, cushioned throne upon which the man of the manor gazes down to the rest of the party.

Astarion Ancunin looks regal, donned in a fitted dark jacket with glimpses of silver thread. His silver hair is tousled back, and as he lifts a welcome hand towards them, that is when Anastasia catches the glittering of a dozen rings on those dexterous fingers. She approaches, tightly clasping her father’s forearm.

The moment she feels her father dip for a bow, she lowers into a slow curtsy. She is perfectly practiced, and poised, and knows with utter delight that her cleavage spills daringly over her corset.

And if he’s looking at her, she wouldn’t know. Her eyes are lowered, and trained appropriately a few paces ahead.

“Please, rise,” comes that voice—so familiar and intimate. “Welcome back, Lord and little Lady Curtis.”

“A pleasure, as always, my lord,” Anastasia breathes, and straightens, letting her lashes flutter up, only to find that their host is more interested in her father.

Lord Ancunin continues, “I have heard your travels have been arduous as of late. The road from Waterdeep to the Gate has been swarming with raiders.”

“Arduous, indeed,” her father says, clasping his hands behind him. “There must be an agreement between the two cities to cleanse the raiders, if only to ease the trading routes.”

Lord Ancunin shifts, considering. “You are staying for the Council meeting in two days. It is something to discuss further.” His attention briefly shifts to Anastasia. “But this is not an appropriate discussion for tonight. I hope you enjoy the Gala, and leave the business for the court.”

Her father smiles tightly beside her. “Galas are nothing but court business, Astarion. Come, Ana.”

Anastasia is pulled to the side, but she catches that distinct flicker within Lord Ancunin’s eyes as they sweep down her neck, her chest, and then lower, to the curve of her waist. And then, as quickly as they fell, they snap back up to her face.

Momentarily, those crimson eyes gleam with mischief. It warms her more than she would ever admit.

“Don’t let me bore you with work. Go. Enjoy the gathering.” Her father gestures an uncaring hand towards the long table pushed to the side with refreshments. “We won’t be here for too long.”

She pauses. “Not too long, father?”

“We have made our appearance, and that is all that matters.” He glances briefly back at Lord Ancunin, who is engaged with another greeting. “I do not wish to be associated too long with a man who is known to keep secrets from the court.”

Ana masks her surprise well. “Secrets?”

A yank on her arm, and she’s pulled closer to him. His breath is sharp against her ear as he hisses, “There is something undoubtedly dark about Lord Ancunin, and I do not wish to parade you around him any longer.”

It is then that Lord Ancunin’s gaze unassumingly flits over to her from the dais. Anastasia feels the way his attention burns on her when she looks away. “What have you heard, father?”

“Suspicions.” He grabs a drink from a tray as a servant scurries by. “Speculations.”

“Enough to warrant a trial, or an accusation?”

Her father’s eyes narrow on her, and she can sense the belittlement from his expression alone. “You always want to know too much about matters that do not concern you.” He places a hand on her shoulder and turns her to face the many dancing couples at the center of the ballroom. “But what does concern you is Lord Atticus, and Lord Beckett. Both quite interested in a courtship that I daresay would finally settle you down.”

Her eyes roll in spite, but he does not see it. He has already turned to another gentleman, shaking his hand in greeting.

Smoothing a hand over her skirts, she makes her way to the other end of the ballroom, where she had indeed caught sight of Lord Atticus—a longtime friend of her father’s. But before she can take another step towards him, she feels a presence behind her.

It is instinctual, at this point, to lean into that feeling that warns her of imminent danger. It is a feeling she has learned to chase.

To admire.

To desire.

“Your father tires of my Galas.”

She smiles softly before turning around towards the voice that chills her very bones. With the practice of many years, she instinctively clasps her hands before her waist, and bows her head. “My lord.”

Lord Ancunin watches her for a quick moment before taking a step closer. “You ladies of the court are bred to be so… submissive, aren’t you?”

Her answer is quick. “I am bred to be married off to the highest bidder.” She doesn’t lift her gaze. “And most that bid are men of the dominant nature.”

“Opposites attract.”

That is when she looks up. “Precisely.”

He extends an arm, and upturns his hand in offering. “Anastasia Curtis. Shall I anger your father, and ask you for a dance?”

She does not give her hand. “I did not know you danced, my lord.”

He steps closer, and it is perhaps the closest he has ever gotten to her in public. “I host these damned things every year, my dear. I might as well participate.”

Ana still does not give her hand.

And the lord merely smiles. “You would refuse your host, Lady Curtis?”

She does not dare glance behind him, where she knows her two future suitors could very well be watching. “You will scare away my prospects.”

He still refuses to withdraw his offering, hand upturned before her. “Since when have you cared about that?”

Aware of every single movement, she at last places a gloved hand inside of his, and lets him twirl her into an embrace. Slowly, he begins to move in a gentle rhythm, gliding past couple after couple.

Close enough to his ear, she whispers quickly, “This is not part of our game.”

“No?”

She does not look at him, and instead fixes her flustered gaze over his shoulder. “You must not interfere with my life outside of this place.”

“What is your concern?” He regards her with his head bent low. “Chatter? Gossip?”

“Yes,” she says indignantly. “Every glance, every dance—it is all observed, and relayed to the correct circles at the earliest convenience.”

“How terribly tedious, to be a lady of the court.”

She makes a sound in assent, relaxing just a touch in his embrace. “And you aren’t helping, my lord.”

He hums, and twirls her once, only to draw her closer. “I simply do not wish to see you play with others when you have come here to play with me.”

Her mouth dries at the intensity of his intonation, and surely, he can feel her heart fluttering like a trapped bird. “I don’t have a choice in the matter.”

“Well, you choose to be here, don’t you?” His eyes dart from her face, to the entry. “And in less than an hour, you will choose to leave through those doors in favor of my halls. And you will choose to be prey on his wondrous night.”

She swallows, following his gaze. “I do not think one chooses to be prey.”

Something unrecognizable flashes in those striking eyes. “You are afraid.”

“With you, I am always afraid.” Her smile is gentle on her lips. “But it is also why I choose to be here.”

His head tilts down, his lips barely brushing the shell of her ear. “You know, half the men in our court would run the other way if they knew even a fraction of what you do.”

“They would run hoping you wouldn’t catch them. We are not the same, my lord.”

He examines her face, and those wicked eyes do not leave hers when he asks, “Do you wish to please me, Anastasia?”

The smile on her face drops briefly at the sensuality of his tone.

He stares at her lips. “Do you wish to play a game with me?”

She looks away, hoping desperately that no one is watching too closely. “Must you ask me every year?”

“Yes.”

She lets her eyes roam the room. “You already know my answer.”

The gentle tune fades to a standstill as a round of applause takes over the room, indicating the very end of the dance. Lord Ancunin’s hand slips from her waist as he takes a small step back. He bends forward, and grabs her hand, placing a simple kiss upon its back.

And even through her glove, she can feel the brush of his mouth. “Leave this ballroom at once.”

When he straightens, her eyes flash to the doors, heart hammering in her chest. “My lord?”

“If your answer is yes, then I ask you to run, Anastasia.” With a pull, she is tugged close until his breath plumes over her cheek. “Run, and by the gods, do not let me catch you.”

Masterlist

AO3

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #ascended astarion #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 tav #bg3 #ascension #fanfic #fanfiction #astarion fanfic

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the-crimson · 8 months

Text

I am once again thinking of the special guest bbh theory and why the federation absolutely refuses to touch him and I remembered the one time the federation punished him: when ElQuackity kidnapped Dapper.

This is a bit of an unhinged crack theory but follow me for a minute XD

The federation is scared of bbh. They invited him to the island for unknown reasons presumably because of what he is/what he’s done but they know how dangerous he is and are afraid of pushing him too far.

Then comes ElQuackity who kidnaps Bad’s son which is the worst possible thing anyone could do. ElQuackity is a federation agent but the federation can deny culpability to his actions completely. My theory is that the federation helped ElQuackity kidnap Dapper as a risk assessment, to see what Bad’s reaction would be in a somewhat controlled environment. In the moment Bad was mostly just shocked and silently furious and focusing on Dapper’s wellbeing. It was days later when Bad let a smidge of his fury loose by exploding Quackity’s pyramid. It is very rare for players to destroy other’s builds on this server (Roier didn’t know the school/daycare was Bad’s build) but Bad put so many mines on Quackity’s pyramid that they are still going off to this day. The entire situation was comedic at the time but you could tell Bad was keeping himself on such a tight leash through it all.

In all honesty, I think Bad is more afraid of what he is capable of then the federation. He keeps himself on such an incredibly tight leash it’s insane. Through ElQuackity’s kidnapping of Dapper, they learned a lot. Bad doesn’t retaliate blindly. He doesn’t succumb to mindless rage. He waits. He plots. When he destroyed Quackity’s pyramid he was indeed provoked but it was still incredibly tactical. He played ElQuackity’s game, he twisted ElQuackity’s words and put him on the defensive and had ElQ backtracking and scrambling to regain control of the situation. This whole situation was played for laughs but it proved to the federation that if they push Bad, he will retaliate but on his own terms. He will not be goaded into doing what the federation wants. He will wait. He will plan. And when he is ready he’ll make everything come crumbling down.

#qsmp #crimson speaks #badboyhalo #special guest theory #crack theory #it’s so interesting that that the only time the federation has touched him #was due to elquackity #someone who could give the fed plosives deniability #plausible*

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astravv · 5 months

Text

one of your girls pt. 3 || alhaitham x stripper! reader || multipart series

hi, here’s part 3 to one of your girls <3 I decided that I’m going to add a playlist before some of my fics, so here’s my small playlist for one of your girls.

- one of the girls - the weeknd

- i’m a slave 4 u - britney spears

- drunk in love - the weeknd remix

- agora hills - doja cat

- the color violet - tory lanez

- little bit - lykke li

〘♡ 〙〘♡ 〙〘♡ 〙

i opened the door to my locker at work, tossing my bag and lunch into the small compartment. a blonde girl i’ve never seen before gives me a weird look as she shoves a small reese’s cup in her mouth.

i give her a stank look back, kind of like a “really” look, then head out of the dressing room and into the hallway where work really starts.

if my plan works out right, i’ll be making bank tonight. hopefully some other dancers don’t ruin it for me.

i get up on the stage, walking down the runaway to a small pit where a pole is. i bite my lip a bit, hoping to god that i don’t fuck this up.

my hand makes contact with the pole and i softly grasp it and swing myself around it, then pushing my chest into the pole so my ass can be more visible. i’m scanning the crowd, not for my favorite customers, but for alhaitham.

for some reason, i really just want him to examine every part of the dance, how i freshly shaved my legs last night so they’re shiny and smooth. the way i wore his favorite lingerie that he’d always compliment me in. he said i suited red. it brought my face out.

i manage to spot him, at the bar, watching me as he takes a shot of some sort of vodka. i make sure to make my hips sway a certain way he likes.

i’m making sure that he knows i’m not over last night, and i’m really trying to piss him off.

i can feel his eyes on me, i know there at least a hundred eyes on me, it’s a busy night. but i only care about his.

then my favorite song came on. the britney spears song that is so popular. i’m a slave for you, or whatever. it just gives me more confidence, i do some more swaying and swinging on the pole, not letting my eyes off the gray-haired man at the bar.

he sighs, and slams his shot glass down. he gets up and heads to the back, probably to his office to groan.

good thing, because my turn is up. i quickly collect all the money i had made, which was a lot, since there was lots of men watching. i figured i did pretty good. as soon as i hopped off stage, a man came up to me, looking me up and down.

“can i get a private dance, baby?” he grins.

“maybe,” i wink, “if your lucky.”

“aww, don’t do me like that, babydoll.” he leans in closer to me.

“and your not lucky tonight, i’m afraid.” i tease.

his eyes shoot at me and he backs off like he was extremely offended that i turned him down.

“okay, bitch, didn’t want that dance anyways.” he spits on the floor next to me and walks off angrily. i roll my eyes, ignoring that guy.

i head towards the back and nervously walk to alhaitham’s office, across from the dressing room.

i open the door, and i’m met with alhaitham at his desk, that one blonde girl who was rudely shoving her mouth in the dressing room on his lap. his hand is on the small of her back, holding her so perfectly.

when our eyes meet, she quickly pounces up off of him.

“the hell?” i gave him and the blonde an ugly look, she pushes through me to get out of the room and head back to work. “you’re a man whore.”

“am i really?” alhaitham smirks. “purposefully getting to me out there, huh?”

“so you settle with some trashy blonde bitch?” i rebut.

“no.” he replies, looking off the side. “listen, y/n, i’m sorry about yesterday and what i said. i just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“because i make you the most money, i heard it all yesterday, alhaitham.” i groan, folding my arms.

“no, because i care about you and your wellbeing.” he scoffs. “sadly.”

when i hear that come out of his mouth, i can’t help but raise an eyebrow and laugh loudly.

“what a funny joke!” i laugh.

“i’m being serious.” his smile is gone and i can tell he’s got that weird serious face on. it’s like the business just came out of him.

“oh.” i shut up and go completely silent.

“how about i treat you to dinner tonight?” he questions. i look at him and the wall behind him, trying to think of an answer.

“what do i get out of it?” i answer.

“a free dinner.” he nods, smiling a little bit. “would there be something else you’d want?” i put my hands on my waist and walk over to his desk.

“anything?”

“anything.”

“i want a big shopping trip to the mall where you buy me whatever i like, then i want a dinner at one of those fondue restaurants, after that, i want you to take me to a relaxing hot spring, but it be completely rented so it’s just me and you.” i smile widely.

“why just me and you?” he asks, looking into my eyes.

“why not, private, right?” i let out a small chuckle.

“you’re funny, but you’re on. i’ll pick you up at 10 in the morning.” he agrees. “now get out of my office.”

“alright then,” i turn around and walk out of his office, holding onto the door and looking back at alhaitham. “no trashy blondes before our date, i’ll know.”

then i shut the door. i have a big smile on my face as i head back to work. the whole night i’m just thinking about tomorrow where i’ll be spoiled by alhaitham, my own boss. giving me the shopping spree of my dreams.

how insane.

i make sure everything is perfect with my outfit and my makeup. i touch it up a bit in the mirror, tugging a bit at the sleeves of the nice sweater i put on. i slipped my shoes on when I heard a knock at my door.

i head over and open it, to see a very handsome alhaitham standing on the other side.

“good morning, y/n.” he greets.

“good morning, alhaitham.” i nod, I walk back into my house and grab my small purse, looking at his face and giving him a big grin.

“let’s go to the car, shall we?” he grabs my hand and walks me to the elevator to go the ground floor to go to his car. alhaitham has a really nice car. it’s a very new black bmw.

the elevator ride down is slow it feels like, and we keep looking at each other then looking at the door. the awkwardness doesn’t seem to go away.

“how was your morning?” alhaitham breaks the awkward silence.

“it was really nice actually. i took the time to get ready, so it felt great.” i reply.

“just to see me?” he teases, butting his elbow into me.

“no, you’re not that lucky.” i laugh.

“boo.”

the elevator finally opens and we both walk out, i notice i’m actually leading him to his car and not him. once we get to his car, he gives me a weird glance.

“how did you know this was my car?” he questions, walking to the passenger door and opening it for me.

“weird hunch.” i blow it off, setting myself down in the nice, sleek car. he shakes his head and shuts the door, walking over the driver side and gets himself in and situated. he turns on the car and we start our drive to the mall.

he slides his hand on my thigh, looking at me almost for approval. i give him a small smile.

the day starts out great, we go to lots of shops and he carries all my bags like a gentleman. it’s nice, having him by my side. i guess something i wanted for awhile, but never asked for. i think he wanted this too, but excluding that i’m spending his money.

dinner is wonderful, we talk about our interests and our lives growing up. we feel almost perfect for each other. i even start to let myself fall a little for the man.

we end the day at the hot springs. all to ourselves. when we get there, we head to the cubby area where we can get changed into our bathing suits.

“shit..” i mumble, i cross my legs and look down at the ground, i watch alhaitham grab his swimming trunks out of his bag. “i forgot a bikini.”

“oh, damn..” he murmurs. “we could skinny dip?”

“are you sure?” i whisper. “do you think they’re watching?”

he shakes his head as he watches me take my outfit off, leaving me in my underwear and bra.

“will you turn around?” i roll my eyes at him.

“sorry, my bad,” he murmurs and flips himself around, wishing he could just turn around and look at me in my birthday suit.

when he hears me get into the water, he takes the rest of his clothes off and hops in too, i try to not peak at him naked either, but i do notice he is very nicely toned.

i look over at alhaitham, his face so calm even though he’s in this awkward situation.

“do you think we are made for each other?” i ask, straight up. “i mean, do you even like me?”

“of course i like you, y/n.” he replies, grabbing my thigh. “what made you think i didn’t?”

“you’re my boss.” i reply, “and I’m not sure, i just had a weird feeling you didn’t.”

“if i didn’t like you, would i be doing all this?” alhaitham asks.

“well i did sorta demand it.” i laugh softly.

“you’re right,” he chuckles, “but seriously.”

he leans in and presses his lips onto mine, it feels nice. this feels nice. it feels right.

his lips press harder, and his hand pushes further up my thigh. my arms wrap around his neck, pushing my body closer into his. our lips disconnect and i let out a soft sigh as he presses his hand between my legs, rubbing my clit harshly.

my mouth is agape and he watches every movement of my face. he kisses my cheek as he slips two fingers inside me, quickly pushing them in and out, hitting the good spots, that earns more moans out of me.

“alhaitham..” i moan out.

“you’re a good girl.” he praises, biting my earlobe, leaving small kisses down my neck too. moans spill out of my lips. alhaitham smirks a bit, his eyes look deeply into mine, like he’s having a staring contest with me.

he pulls his fingers out of me, grabbing my hips and pulling me out of the hot spring. he gets on his knees and puts his face between my thighs, licking slowly at my slit. my wet hands slide into his hair, pulling and tugging at it. he groans a little at the contact.

his tongue enters me, going in and out at a rapid pace.

“alhaitham…” i cry out, my legs closing in on his head.

he pulls his tongue out of me and starts sucking on my clit, licking every bit of it and causing me to arch my back. he bites it a little, sending a shiver through my body. once he’s done torturing me as he eats me out, he gets up, and taps his dick against my entrance.

precum pours out of his slit, he licks his thumb and wipes it off. he spits onto his dick and rubs in the wetness all over it, causing him to bite his lip. he’s so handsome when he does that. he looks up at me and smiles.

“are you ready?” he asks. “is this okay?”

“yes, please just make me feel good already, i’ve been waiting long enough.” i cry out.

“you are right..” he smirks. his hand pushes his cock into me, sliding it in and out of my sopping wet cunt. a load moan comes out of my mouth as i grab onto alhaitham’s arms.

“oh.. alhaitham..” i cry out again, clenching my teeth together harshly. “keep going..”

he thrusts into me at a faster rate, watching his dick go in and out of the hole. he smiles at then throws his head back in pleasure.

“you feel so good, y/n.” alhaitham praises. “good for me.”

his groans carry on as he goes harder and deeper inside me, causing me to get louder as well. we were already in a public place and i was trying to be as quiet as possible, seems like that didn’t work out.

alhaitham grabs me, and throw me on my stomach, pulling my ass in the arm as he enters me again, slamming his dick right into my cunt.

his grunts get faster and heavier as he goes in and out and a very fast state.

“y/n..” he cries out, as i feel him fill me up with his cum.

my eyes widen and i shoot a look back at alhaitham, this feeling was new, and weird, i didn’t know he came inside me. was he wearing a condom? did it break? or is he just stupid?

i pull myself off of him and see whitish, clear liquid goop out from my thighs.

“you finished in me? you asshole!” i yell.

“why not, you’re mine anyways.” he laughs.

“whatever, you bitch.”

#alhaitham #alhaitham x reader #x reader #genshin #genshin impact #genshin x reader #sumeru #genshin smut

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ghostofthemost141 · 6 months

Text

Serene

Chapter 2

Ch.1. Ch.2. Ch.3. Ch.4. Ch.5. Ch.6. Ch.7.

Pairing: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Reader

Word Count: 2,200

About: You're on vacation to the beach and you think you're about to die when you're caught in a riptide until an unlikely hero comes to your rescue. Precisely a Scottish man that bores a tail.

!Warnings!: Hint to Assault but nothing graphic

Italics means Third Person POV

Everyone figured that with your most recent incident, you would avoid the ocean at all costs. Or hell even be scared to touch water in general. But imagine everyone’s faces when you told them you were going out for a nightwalk to said beach that you nearly drowned in. Gem and Pixie were the most surprised and even feared for your mental wellbeing when you told them that as you were getting your coat on.

“Dove, are you okay?” Gem asked me.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” I ask, feeling very confused.

“You nearly died and now you’re going to go take a walk at the beach you nearly died at?” Pixie frantically asked, getting close to me.

“We figured you would be afraid of water at this point.” Gem added.

“Nope. I am perfectly fine.” I say, trying to reassure them but they weren’t buying it.

“Why do you want to go?” Gem asked me.

Little did they know that you were off to go search for your savior from the other day. There has to be a reason for all of this. Why would Johnny show himself to you? It was tearing you up on the inside and you had to know before you would leave your vacation home and be a five hour drive away from the beach. Not that a five hour drive drive would bother you, but it was a burning question you needed to know now.

“I think I lost my sunglasses in the sand. I want to go look for them.” You lied, feeling said sunglasses in my pocket but I was trying not to make it obvious.

Both Gem and Pixie looked at each other with concern and back to me, as if I was delusional.

“I’ll be back.” I mumbled, hurrying out the front door and slamming it behind me.

You felt irritated now, seeing how your friends were reacting to your action. You know it was out of concern, considering your recent near death experience, but you would at least think your best friends would be supportive. This was the first time they showed some kind of concern since your incident and well frankly, you expected more out of both of them. But no matter. There was only one person you wanted to see. You started your car, put it in reverse, and drove out of the parking lot of y’alls condo, heading straight for the beach. Ever since that day, about a week ago, Johnny’s bright blue eyes have basically haunted your dreams. Everytime you close your eyes, you would see Johnny’s face, beaming a kind smile at you in the water. And you couldn’t forget about that tail of his. That dark, blue scaly tail. You wanted to run your hands over it, just make sure that it was in fact real. Just seeing it that day didn’t make you believe it. You had to feel it, touch it with your hands. Just the thought of you doing that had your foot pressing down on the pedal, nearly causing you to break the speed limit. Your heart raced as you parked your car near where Johnny resurrected you at. You didn’t even think you would see him and yet here you are, determined to make it happen. You stepped out of your car. You anticipated it to be dark outside, considering there are no street lights on a beach, so you brought your strobe light, making sure it was turtle safe for the many turtles you had already seen during your stay here. You started your venter down the sand, lighting your way and making sure you were treading lightly to avoid stepping on any creatures. You took notice of a familiar bolder that was there on that fateful day. That bolder is the reason nobody saw Johnny. Nobody but you. You passed the boulder immediately, taking notice of something shiny in the sand. It was small but reflected a blue hue when your flashlight reflected it. You bent down and grabbed it. It was a scale. And you knew who it belonged to. Who else would have scales with a dark blue color?

“Are you there?” I called out, scanning the water and near me.

Nothing. And yet you kept rubbing your thumb over the scale, hoping what you saw that day was real. That Johnny was real and not a near death hallucination.

“I don’t want any trouble, I promise, I just..”

You paused. You didn’t really know why you were here. What was the point of you coming here? You should’ve just let it go and went on with your life. But you couldn’t. No. You just couldn’t.

“I want to see that you are real. I won’t tell, I promise. Please, Johnny.”

You call out to him, hoping to hear a recurring splashing in the water or a flop into the sand but nothing. Nothing happened. It was then that you felt stupid, standing out here on the beach in the pitch dark, flashing your stroble light around looking for something that doesn’t even exist.

“Whatever.” I mumbled, feeling the stupidity settle in.

You turned and started walking back to your car. Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid-

“What in the bloody Jesus are you doin’ out ‘ere?”

You whipped around, shining your light towards where you heard the voice. And there he was. In all of his handsome glory. Propped up on the boulder was Johnny. You felt stunned, frozen in place seeing Johnny there, confirming that he was indeed real.

“I uh..” I stuttered, feeling the shock slowly wear off, “I wanted to thank you. For saving my life.”

“I mean I wasn’t gonna let ya drown.” Johnny smirked, sitting upright on top of the boulder, his tail resting gracefully over the side.

“I-I know..I just couldn’t believe you were real. That you are real.” I say, catching glances at his tail.

“You’re the first person to know about meh.”

“Why’s that?” I ask, stepping closer to him, as if his eyes were hypnotizing me to do that.

“Just intuition is all.” Johnny said, eyeing me.

I smiled back, trying not to make it awkward with my noticeable staring but I frankly couldn’t help it.

“How long have you been around here for?” I asked, sitting down next to him.

“A long time, lass.”

“Have you always been a mermaid?” I ask, immediately feeling bad as I felt I was being invasive, “s-sorry.”

Johnny wasn’t offended nor annoyed by your questions. He has never had someone ask of him and get to know him like this. He also felt something he hasn’t felt in a long time from another human. Trust.

“It’s alright, but no. I was once human.” Johnny admitted, looking at me with those bright blue eyes of his. .

He took the opportunity to admire you. It was as if everything about you was perfect, your flowy hair, your beautiful colored eyes, your shiny skin, even with the spotlight pointed towards y’all, he could tell how beautiful you are. It made his heart race.

“You were turned into a mermaid?” I asked, with so much curiosity.

“Yea’. I was a kid and I was in the water and ended up drowning.” Johnny started.

“Oh.” I said.

“But I was saved, just like I saved you, by another mermaid. He was my age. Since then we have traveled far and wide over the world, settling here for the last couple of years.”

“Are you and the boy still friends?” I ask, hearing the existence of yet another mermaid.

“Bloody hell yes. We do just about everythin’ together. He would be pissed off if he knew what I was doing right now.” Johnny jokes, but I instantly felt bad.

“Oh, should I go then?”

“No, lass. I was only kiddin’. I don’t care what that bloody idiot thinks.” Johnny jokes once again, this time making you laugh.

You were completely smitten with Johnny, even though this was only your second time seeing him. He was handsome, and very fit for a mermaid.

“I don’t mean to be ‘like that’, but if you’re a mermaid then how do you stay so fit?”

“Oh I see.” Johnny smirked upon hearing my question.

Johnny raised his outside arm up and flexed his muscles, making a deep blush form on your face.

“You like that, Dove?” Johnny half joked, flexing some more.

“Stop that.” I shoved him jokingly to make him stop.

Johnny just laughed in response, knowing damn well he did it to make me flustered.

“Are you always this flirty with every woman you meet?”

“Nah, just ones that are actually nice to me.” Johnny commented softly.

“People were mean to you?” I ask, returning the same tone.

Johnny held his head down.

“Oh I’m sorry I didn’t mean-”

“No, no it’s alright, lass.” Johnny reassured you with a beaming smile.

He knew you didn’t mean anything bad about your question. You were just curious, which is something he wasn’t used to.

“You see, if I need to come up to the surface, I can turn into a human. I just have to be out of the water for a certain amount of time. And well, I have met some gals, not now a while ago, and of course they want me to come back to their house and..they take me shirt off and see..” Johnny paused, looking down.

I knew what he was referring to. His gills on his sides. I could connect that even though he turns human, his gills don’t go away.

“They get disgusted, not even scared, and run away, all while cussin’ me out. For something I can’t control. I try and stop them ya know? But they keep pushin’ and pushin’ me and then they see me gills and that’s the end of that.” Johnny added.

“That’s their fault, Johnny. Not yours. They pushed your boundaries, even when you told them no. Besides, even if you told them no because of your gills, they should’ve listened to you when you told them no.” I sternly said, only to get my point across.

Johnny felt his heart racing hearing you say those words to him. You were indeed the first human he has ever met to actually be this nice and kind to you. In the back of his head, he felt you had to be nice to him due to the fact that he did save your life but he knew this was out of genuineness.

“Thank you, Dove. You’re the first person I have ever told that.” Johnny confessed.

“I’ll keep it in me heart.” I said with my best Scottish accent, making Johnny laugh.

Johnny knew he could trust you, he just could feel it in his heart that he could trust you.

“I best be going.” Johnny said.

“Oh, leaving already?”

“Yeah before my lad gets concerned on where I’m at.” Johnny said, “do you live around here?”

“No, I live about five hours West.”

“Towards Louisiana?”

“Yep. We are vacationing here and are leaving tomorrow.” You answer.

Johnny pursed his lips for a second before turning back to you.

“In New Orleens?”

“You got it.” I nod.

Johnny chuckled, leaning in close to you.

“I’ll just have to come up there then. When are you bound to be back?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow night.”

Johnny stared at you, sending chills down your spine and you couldn’t help but feel your heart start racing. Johnny then leaned in and connected his lips onto your temple. His lips remained there for a full three seconds before pulling away with a ‘smooch’ noise. You didn’t understand why he did that, but you liked it.

“I’ll see ya den, Dove.” Johnny said as he lifted himself up with his arms and launched himself off the boulder, and into the water, making a splash of water land on you.

“AH! You dick!” You cursed jokingly, hearing the Scot’s laugh.

“Sorry, bonnie.”

“You’re fine.” I laughed, seeing Johnny’s head bobbing out of the water.

I didn’t want him to leave but I knew he had to. His blue eyes pierced into mine, feeling my heart race rapidly.

“When do you want me to meet you?” Johnny asked.

“As soon as possible.” You wink at him.

“Meet me there in two days, same time as tonight.”

You made note of that in your mind.

“I’ll see you then, Johnny.”

“See you then, Dove.”

And with that Johnny dove under the water, his big tail rising up and splashing back into the water and he was gone. You were left alone with the sound of the calm waves crashing into the sand and boulder that was next to you. You were enhanced by Johnny and for a very good reason. Not only was he a mythical creature that your eight year old self would have been gleaming for, but he was also very charming, handsome and kind. Kinder than most men you have met in your lifetime. You left the beach and started your drive back to your condo, already super excited to see Johnny again back in your hometown.

TO BE CONTINUED..

#cod #callofduty #call of duty #cod modern warfare #ghostofthemost141 #cod x reader #modern warfare x reader #johnny soap mactavish x reader #johnny soap mctavish x reader #johnny soap mactavish #johnny soap mctavish x you #cod soap #soap x reader #serene series #simon ghost riley #john price #phillip graves #cod mwii #mw2

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turbulentscrawl · 6 months

Text

Identity(V) Headcanons: Andrew Kreiss

This one is not a request, just the next in line for my general HCs! As usual, if you like my stuff, feel free to shoot me a request.

-Andrew is a very hot-and-cold person. Mostly cold. …Like 85% cold. But it’s hard to blame him when life’s given him nothing to really have faith in. Once upon a time he still believed that good people existed, but his faith just waned and waned, and that’s long been relegated to fantasy. It’s incredibly difficult to breach his hardened emotional walls now.

-He made a conscious decision to not care about others’ wellbeing years ago so he’s largely indifferent to happenings that don’t involve himself. He’s not interested in looking out for or helping people, defending or comforting them. He does his share of good when he puts them in the ground, and that ought to be enough. And if he takes them out again later…well, if souls are real they’re surely long gone, right?

-Everyone knows he’s got a nasty mouth, right? Andrew was rarely spoken to kindly when he was growing up, and he learned to take those words and turn them back on people to keep them away. If he was always going to be accused of being cursed or demonic or whathaveyou, why should he bother with decorum? He cusses regularly and has called people every cruel name under the sun at some point. The worst of it is reserved for retaliation against people who start talking shit first.

-Andrew is not a weak man. He’s tall and athletic, and he’s adept with a heavy-duty shovel. That is to say, he’s more than capable of defending himself. He strongly prefers to avoid physical confrontation, but he has spent years throwing around bodies and I can assure you it really makes no difference to him whether they still draw breath.

-When he does get along with someone, the old habits die hard. Andrew spends a lot of conversation time still tripping over his own tongue, rephrasing harsh things he says out of instinct to try and be gentler, and then getting visibly angry with himself. (He is also not great at hiding his emotions.) He’s constantly afraid that he’s going to run off the good things he has and be back to square one.

-In an effort to…make up for? Cover up? those snaps he can’t hold back, Andrew sometimes rambles for long stretches. These don’t happen in front of groups, but during one-on-one time with his loved ones. He’ll get onto some topic he’s familiar with (or not, if he’s desperate enough) and just run his mouth off like he’s trying to lure you away from a trap with a treat. He’s not above shoving an actual apology treat at people either, if one is available.

-While not always the best at communicating his thoughts, Andrew is very philosophical under the surface. He’s had a lot of alone time to think over the years, and he’s analyzed every angle he could come up with to rationalize and understand his lot. He would really enjoy having a friend or partner who is up for those deep, 2-am conversations about the meaning of life and the universe. His own views lean towards the despondent, but he’d like to hear something more optimistic too.

-Even when close with someone, Andrew doesn’t initiate many conversations. Unlike some of the other introverts in the manor, this isn’t because he’d rather be left alone but because he secretly likes when they seek him out. You coming to him is a very simple reminder that his company is enjoyable and desired.

-The best Love Language for Andrew is probably Quality Time. He would like any of them if it came from someone he genuinely learned to love and trust, but Quality Time is what you’d need to reach that cherished place in his heart. Andrew acts prickly as a defense mechanism, and he needs someone who’s willing to endure his snappiness and show him they wouldn’t prefer to spend their time and energy on someone else.

-Andrew is the type to admire things silently. He gives compliments very sparingly, so when he does give them you know he really means it.

-He is plagued by back and shoulder pains. It’s mostly from his profession, standing hunched over for hours on end, and it’s affected even his resting posture now. He doesn’t just curl in on himself as an anxiety thing, he is sore. Can the Baron please invite a chiropractor next? A masseuse? …Yoga instructor?

-He’s mostly nocturnal at this point. (The manor’s scheduling has messed that up, though.) It’s not just sun-sensitivity, but that he usually worked after sundown when people wouldn’t be around the graveyard to see him.

-He loves a good homecooked meal! The best foods are the ones prepared by someone who loves you, so he’d choose a mediocre dish at home to the fanciest restaurants in the world.

#idv x reader #identity v #identity v x reader #andrew kreiss #idv gravekeeper #andrew kreiss x reader #turbulentscrawl

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crowwritesaway · 1 month

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Yandere General x Female Reader x Yandere Emperor Pt. 3

The emperor was sitting in his chair. His cousin was sitting on the side along with other guests. Her ladies were standing by her side. The emperor appeared to be grumpy. Y/N was still not here.

The emperor waved at one of his subordinates to come over. He bowed before the Emperor. “Where is she?” The subordinate looked conflicted. He was afraid to give the wrong answer. He wanted to keep his head attached so he thought carefully before answering. “Lady Y/N is running errands.” The emperor sighed. He waved off the subordinate. Running errands. For who?

Meanwhile, Y/N was outside the palace. She was at a shop to get a remedy for her adoptive mom. She was sick. The coughs were persistent so Y/N left without concern of living notice. She simply left because when it came to the wellbeing of her adoptive family…nothing mattered except them.

“This will surely stop the coughing.” You put the money on the counter. “Thanks.” You left the shop. You quickly walked through the crowd. There were tables set in the town. Each table selled different jewels, fruit, knitted dolls, and other goods. “Miss, would you like one?” “Look at this fresh cut fruit!!? “The finest silk has arrived!!? She heard them yell. She politely shook her head. Her face was covered by a bandana mask. They knew she had to be someone important from the clothes she was wearing. It had the royal symbol. A dragon.

The emperor was annoyed by the talk. “A toast to the emperor.” Everyone lifted their cups. The emperor nodded. He picked up his cup. “Where’s Y/N? Did she upset you?” His cousin asked, snickering when she thought of you.

The emperor placed his cup down. He stared at his cousin with pure disdain. Has she not learned to disrespect Y/N? It seems like the last punishment wasn’t enough? “There’s nothing she can do to disappoint me.” His cousin nervously glanced down at her lap. “Tell me, cousin. Is there anything you want to tell me?” He gave her permission to tell him anything about his Y/N. This is something she always did when Y/N was not in sight. She looked up from her lap. She cleared her throat. “No. I’m sure you gave Y/N to go outside the palace.” The emperor clenched his hands into fists. I did not know that. He smiled. “Is that all?” He asked, pushing down his rage. He refused to let her get the satisfaction of knowing something he didn’t. She opened and closed her mouth.

“Announcing the presence of Y/N!!” You walked in. The emperor turned his head as soon as he heard your name. You coldly glanced around the room. You bowed your head, greeting the emperor. The emperor smiled. This was a smile of happiness. “Greetings. I hope I’m not upsetting anyone with my sudden presence.” You sneakily glanced at his cousin. She was glaring at you. She’s clearly talking about me. She scoffed inwardly.

“Of course not. Come, take a seat beside me.” The emperor stood up. He waited for you to sit before sitting down. “Bring her a plate.” He ordered the closest maid to serve you, which happened to be his cousin’s maid. You made eye contact with your adopted sister and smiled at her. She smiled back. She was a maid at the palace so she was standing by the wall.

“She only serves me.” His cousin said, making the room go silent. Everyone turned to look at her. You rolled your eyes. The Emperor tilted his head. “And who are you?’ She never learns. “I’m your cousin.” The Emperor nodded. “And who am I?” His cousin frowned. “You're the emperor.” You tapped your fingers on your thigh.

“Exactly. I’m the Emperor. I get to say who serves me. I have the ultimate authority here. Not you.” You looked ahead. I’d rather train in the fighting ground than sit here. “Announcing the arrival of the General.” Fuck. Did I summon him? I was just playing. I don’t want to train. You looked over at the entrance. The General was staring at you. He crossed an arm and bow before the Emperor.

“Saluting the Emperor.” He straightened up. “I thought you were on a mission.” The Emperor asked, furrowing his eyebrows. “Yes. I just arrived from that mission. I finished early. It was successful.” The Emperor nodded. “Take a seat.” You glanced at the empty spot. He would be sitting below you. A plate was placed in front of you. “Thank you.” The maid ignored you and quickly left to stand beside the Emperor’s cousin.

“Now that everyone is here. You can continue.” The Emperor said, gathering the attention of everyone. You picked up the fork and ate. He scooted closer to your side. You chewed your food. Who knew he would still be clingy? I thought it would go away as he got older. “Is it good?” You hummed. “It’s good.” He felt an unexplainable joy and peace. There’s nothing better than having Y/N beside me. I wonder how she would react if I made her my Empress.

The General looked at you both. What is this? First, that Prince from another nation. Now the Emperor. He held a serious face. He did his best to hide his jealousy. What gives him the right to be so close to Y/N? He saw the happiness sparkle in the Emperor. The cold Emperor who’s destroyed Empires smiling. He won’t get Y/N. If I have to start a war to take Y/N, I will. I’m sure I can arrange other missions. The General smirked. He can enjoy this moment. I’ll be the one with Y/N as my bride.

Stay around for more of Yandere General x Female Reader x Yandere Emperor

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Writing Commissions/Requests Open

#yandere oc #yandere male #yandere general x reader #yandere male x reader #yandere male x you #yandere male oc #x plus size reader #tw yandere #tw obsessive behavior #tw possessive behavior #yandere emperor x reader #yandere x reader #yandere series #yandere writing #yandere x you #yandere x female reader #yandere x y/n

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confused-pyramid · 1 year

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Better Not to Give

pairing: draco malfoy x fem!reader

summary: It's your sixth year at Hogwarts and Draco has been acting different. The more he pushes you away, the more you try to hold on, but at what cost?

word count: 4.7k

warnings: SMUT (p in v, fingering), slight hair pulling, marking, Draco is a death eater, angst, drinking

a/n: I wrote this hoping it would be a one-shot, but now I'm potentially seeing a part two during/after the war...

He looks terrible when you glance up at him from across the Great Hall. Harry is buttering his toast next to you and you furtively lift your head to get a better look at Draco by the Slytherin table.

He's picking at his food and you wish you could say this is a new development, but he hasn't been himself all year. Your brows knit with worry as he drops his fork and dips his head down, as though the weight of it has tired him out. You never thought you'd be saying this, but you have found yourself missing his arrogance and elitist snipes ever since the turn in his demeanor.

Before your family denounced their ancestral connections to the ideology of blood purity, you had been a part of the Sacred 28, and that meant being a welcome dinner guest at the Malfoys' throughout your childhood. You and Draco hadn't always gotten along, but it never grew into anything more than silly insults or fruitless rivalries.

Draco stands up from his table suddenly, and your feet push into the ground, almost by instinct. Before you have a chance to follow his movements, he rushes out of the hall, his head dipping down as his robe swishes in his wake.

"Hey, you alright?" Hermione asks as your foot taps the floor impatiently.

"Yeah," you answer, your eyes still trained on where he disappeared out the doors. "I'll be right back."

You take your time walking past the tables, but when you're out of sight of your friends, you hasten your pace, practically running until you spot him at the end of the hallway.

"Draco," you call out after him, but he either doesn't hear you or he chooses not to slow his footsteps.

When you reach him, you grab his shoulder, trying to stop his movements, but he flinches under your touch, pulling back quickly.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, your breaths coming out in small pants. "I just wanted to see if everything was okay."

Draco reaches up to grab the back of his neck.

Okay? he thinks to himself with something that sounds almost like a laugh. Nothing will ever be okay again.

But he doesn't say that.

"I'm fine," he says shortly, his eyes glancing around like he's afraid you're being watched. By who?

You don't know how to respond to something that is so obviously a lie, but you press on anyway. "You haven't been yourself since the summer."

He makes a small noise and it takes you a moment to realize it's supposed to be a scoff. "Maybe this is who I actually am."

This time it's you who wants to scoff, because if there's anything you can be certain of, it's that you know Draco Malfoy, through and through. You knew him when he was still the little boy trying to beat his own personal speed on his tiny broom and when he helped you steal a doll from a toy shop because your mother wouldn't buy it for you. But you also knew him when he got a slap to the face for talking back to his father and when he cried himself to sleep for a week because he disappointed his family at his first quidditch match.

Even when his family turned you away, you knew he hadn't. You knew that although you were supposed to be on opposite sides of an impending war, at least a part of him still cared about you. You also knew that you cared about him too.

"Am I really supposed to believe that?"

He just shrugs and it makes you want to scream. "I don't really care what you believe anymore."

He doesn't spare you a second glance before turning around and stalking away.

~~~

The winter chill hits its peak and you start to see less and less of Draco. Your friends don't understand your interest in his wellbeing but they also don't know the history you share. You would trust them with your life, but this was Draco's life and that was something else entirely.

The last snow of the year hits on a weekend trip to Hogsmeade, and you join Harry, Ron, and Hermione as they make their way down the small cobblestone road.

"I need a new broom," Ron complains, gazing wistfully into every shop you pass. "I also need a new wand."

Harry pats him on the back, shooting him an amused look and you can't help the laugh that bubbles up inside of you.

When you finally reach Three Broomsticks, Ron's complaints finally become achievable.

"A warm butterbeer sounds brilliant right now," he remarks, his eyes lighting up.

"That can be easily arranged," Hermione smiles, linking her arm through his as she pulls him into the shop.

Having never been a fan of butterbeer, you hang back, letting them all ahead of you. "You three go ahead. I'll grab a drink and come meet you here."

White flakes dance across your vision as you traipse down the street, your gloved hands burrowing deeper into your pockets as the cold stings your skin.

You're considering where to sit down when you see a telltale flash of blond through the windows of the Hog's Head. Draco's pale hair is stark against the black of his robes and a shiver runs through you as you watch him lean over his steaming mug.

The rush of warmth you expect when you push open the doors doesn't arrive, but it's still more temperate than the icy chill outside, so you cast off your gloves and take a seat beside him.

"I'll get a glass of mead," you tell the owner as you lean back in your rickety wooden chair.

Draco doesn't seem surprised when you turn to face him, but his eyes flash with a mix of amusement and anticipation. "I should've known you'd be a mead person. You were the only kid I knew who didn't like pumpkin juice."

You flash him a guarded smile and his eyes catch on the maroon flush that colors your cheeks. He had seen you through the window before you walked in, and when you opened the doors, he told himself it was a bad idea, especially with everything going on in his life, but he couldn't help but stay. He could never help himself when you were involved.

"I'm honestly not sure why I ordered one," you tell him, your eyes turning sad. "Maybe it's still on my mind after Ron was poisoned with a bottle of mead last week."

Draco shrinks back slightly, but you catch the movement before he can shake it off. He wasn't trying to hurt Ron when he sent Slughorn that bottle, but he also couldn't deny that Weasley wasn't someone he would've mourned.

But you would've cared. And in another life, that would have been enough to make him care too.

He's surprised when you reach forward to grab his hand, and he can tell that it wasn't something you had planned to do. You blush again, and he wishes that he could pull your body against his and shield you from the cold and whatever else is coming across the horizon, but that isn't something he gets to do anymore. Not since he made his choice.

"Do you remember when we were kids?" you ask suddenly, jerking him back to reality. "How we would sneak into my parents' shed and steal their brooms to practice while they were sleeping."

That's not what you really want to ask him, but a few childhood memories couldn't cause the damage you were afraid of causing if you dug any deeper.

You had such a crush on him when you first came to Hogwarts. The arrogant little boy who always got what he wanted. Everyone cast him away as a lost cause, but they didn't know what was underneath...what made him the way he was. The memories were at the edge of your subconscious and you could feel how close they were to teetering off into the void, especially with who he had become in the last year.

Draco, on the other hand, can remember everything from that time. He remembers the little girl who was too smart for her own good and how you always knew what he was thinking about, even before the thought entered his mind. He remembers your bushy pigtails and the way you always made your bed in the morning, just because it was something your mother taught you to do. He wonders if you still do.

"I suppose," he finally replies, seeing your fingers go slack against his palm. He can feel the disappointment emanating from you, but a little disappointment would never hurt as much as what was coming. What he was bringing in.

Your fingers slip down his hand and he relishes your touch, even though your skin is still icy from the snow, but when your hand reaches his sleeve, he jerks back.

You flinch too, more out of surprise than anything else, but he pulls his hands away and under the table too fast for you to notice anything awry. "Draco, what's wrong?"

"We aren't children anymore," he snarls, and it's like you can see the walls being built before your very eyes. The fortress that you always believed you had to keys to shuts right in front of you and his eyes glaze over without an ounce of recollection. "Whatever you think we are, you're wrong."

He stands up, his robes enveloping him like a dark cloud, and before you have a chance to respond, the door is swinging shut behind him.

~~~

When you open the door to Three Broomsticks, the atmosphere is much warmer than the Hog's Head. Laughter echoes around the pub and you feel a smile pull at your lips even after Draco's abrupt departure.

"Over here!" Ron's voice calls from behind the small staircase, and you follow it to find the trio with three butterbeers sitting in front of them.

"Anyway, as I was saying," Harry continues, motioning for you to take the seat next to him. "The Katie Bell incident and your poisoning have to be connected."

He had been on this train of suspicion for a while, but with each new event, he was getting more and more reckless with his theories.

"Harry, I'm not so sure-" Hermione starts, but he cuts her off, lifting his hand from the table as he gesticulates intensely.

"Both the cursed necklace and the poisoned mead were gifts from an unknown source," he emphasizes, looking at each of you intently, "and I think that source is Malfoy."

Your eyes snap to his and you quickly look down at the table before you give anything away. You remember how Draco flinched at the mention of Ron's ordeal, and you want to shake the thought away, but you can't.

It feels like a betrayal to ever consider this notion, but the change in his mood this year did strike you as foreboding.

Maybe Harry was right. Maybe the person you grew up with and cared for and loved wasn't who you thought he was.

~~~

You don't see Draco for a few days after your disastrous Hogsmeade encounter, but it's not for lack of looking. Any suspicions you have about his wrongdoings this year are unfounded, and you aren't about to pin something on him without proof. Besides, you know him and you know he lashes out when he's in pain, and if this world had taught you anything, it was that someone pushing you away meant you just had to hold onto them tighter.

That time comes the following evening when you see Draco rushing into an abandoned bathroom on the second floor, his hair a mess and his shirt sticking to his skin.

Your friends have made it clear that they thought your interest in him was another symptom of your desire to fix everything, and with Harry hot on his trail with one theory or another, you were finding it hard to be around them all the time.

Draco is pressed up against the sink when you push the door open, his small sobs echoing around the room. Despair floods you with ice and you rush forward, desperate to do something.

His skin looks paler than you have ever seen it, and when your hand comes forward to glide up his back, his skin feels clammy and cold.

"Please," you whisper, wishing he would share something with you. Anything. "Please let me help you. Whatever your family is doing to you can't go on forever."

You know that even if Harry was right and Draco really was twisted up in something dark, the source always went back to one place: his family. You grew up with a family that protected you, so if nothing else, you at least knew what love wasn't supposed to look like.

Nevertheless, it's the wrong thing to say, and he freezes, his breath slowing down instantly. He doesn't question your intentions, because if there's one thing he knows about you, it's that you're good, but Snape's words from earlier are still painted across his eyelids.

"I made the unbreakable vow."

He had been chosen for this. The Dark Lord had chosen him, but even after he proved himself time and time again, they didn't believe he could do it.

"I don't want your help," he says, but instead of a sneer, it comes out more like a gasp. "Don't you understand? There's no out for me."

He can see you struggling to understand, but he can't afford to be more than vague. His family is relying on him. They are counting on him to do what his father couldn't, and he won't let them down. Not like they had.

So maybe he isn't a killer, but maybe he isn't what you think either.

You can feel the anguish in his words, and your throat thickens with tears threatening to escape. "There has to be something I can do."

"There isn't." He cuts you off forcefully, and you see the finality shining in his eyes as he turns to face the mirror again, his hands gripping the edge of the sink.

The mark on his wrist stings harshly in his skin and he looks down as you stalk out of the bathroom. It's supposed to feel right and he knows he's been chosen for something so much greater than himself, but he also can't help but feel like he didn't get to choose.

You are much too good for him, and he can already feel himself corroding you with each whisper of his breath and glance of his fingers.

You grew up together and even when your families' ideas tried to tear you both apart, something had made him hold on. If he's fully honest with himself, he'll call it what it is.

He loves you.

But he can't admit it. He can't, because that would mean admitting that he's not sure. That the doctrine his father spent 16 years pounding into his skull didn't take, and above all, that the mark carved into his wrist was a mistake.

He splashes water on his face, but his skin still burns like he's been branded.

~~~

"You're quiet today," Harry observes at breakfast a few weeks later. "What's going on with you?"

You shake your head, taking a small bite of your toast. "Nothing. I'm just getting a bit behind in school."

"I can help, if you'd like," Hermione offers, squeezing your arm.

"I've got it covered," you smile at her, leaning against her shoulder, "but thank you."

Her bouncy waves tickle your cheek and you can't help but think about all the times Draco insulted and threatened your friends. How was it fair to keep giving him second and third and fourth chances when he never even gave them one?

Something pulls at the corner of your vision and you look up to see him walking into the Great Hall, a flighty look in his eyes. Harry follows your line of sight and makes an irritated noise. "He has some nerve showing his face here. I overheard him talking to Snape the other day and I think he's up to something. Something bad."

You feared just as much, but you weren't about to give Harry any more ammunition.

Your eyes glide across his features, glancing over his disheveled hair and wide eyes. He still looks beautiful, even in this state, but you force yourself to look away. Whatever feelings you had - or have - for him don't matter anymore.

Breakfast ends quietly and you spend the day catching up on some essays you've been assigned before the end of term. The air outside had started to warm again, and even though the night brings a slight chill, the snow was fully gone and the plants were starting to revive themselves.

When your eyes start to hurt from staring at parchment all day, you make your way to the Astronomy tower for some fresh air, and are pleased to find it empty. Everyone was likely cramming in some last-minute studying or sleeping before exams arrived.

Night falls quickly and soon the stars start to peek out across the clear sky. You try to identify the constellations, but you were never very good at that kind of thing.

"Orion," a voice mutters from behind you, and you spin around to see Draco, partially shrouded by the surrounding darkness. His dark suit blends into the night sky and you only get a good look at him once he approaches you, his arms resting on the railing beside yours.

"Thanks," you breathe, turning back to the view before you. You haven't gotten over your last interaction - at least that's what you've told yourself - and you don't want to make this easy for him. He may not owe the world anything right now, but he owes you the respect of an apology.

"I'm sorry about before," he says shortly and you almost laugh. You wish you could pin his ability to practically read your mind on your time together when you were young, but this was something else entirely. Something real and lasting and above all, futile.

You nod, finally chancing a look at him. There's no breeze tonight, so his hair stays flat, and you lift your hand to push a stray piece behind his ear.

Your fingers are warm against his skin and he does everything in his power to stay still, even as his body urges him to run for the hills. He doesn't deserve you, but you don't deserve his baggage either. He can't keep pushing you down in the hope that you will stay away from the chaos he brings with him wherever he goes.

"My mother taught me all of the constellations," he whispers suddenly, his grip on the railing tightening as he dives back into his memories. "She said our family was tied to the stars and that I had to know about our history if I was to learn from their mistakes."

You know bits and pieces of this story, but you can tell that he needs to say it, so you let him.

"I hated it," he says, and you can sense the tinge of sentimentality staining his words. "I didn't want to look up at the sky, because after everything my father did to me, I didn't ever want to feel small again."

"Draco," you whisper, struggling to find the right words to help him. To bring back the mischievous, naïve boy who didn't know what this kind of pain felt like. "Hurting people will never make you the bigger man."

His face contorts and you feel the sting of tears in your chest. "Don't you think I know that? I don't give a damn about anything anymore, I just want my family to get out of this bloody cycle. I just want to feel safe for once!"

His words slice you open and you grasp his shoulder, pulling him down into a hug that surprises the both of you. His body envelopes you, bringing you warmth, even as his touch sends a shiver down your spine.

You see the battle being fought inside his mind, you can almost hear the clang of weapons when he opens his mouth to speak. The boy whose father turned away when he was hurt and pushed him further when he tried to hold back.

You don't have any illusions about being able to save him from himself, but you also know that if you can make him feel safe for just a moment, it may be enough.

"I'm here with you," you whisper against his neck. "I'm always going to be with you."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a gasp and a groan and suddenly his lips are on yours. He turns you around, away from the railing, and brings his hands up to your face, his fingers tangling in your hair. He can taste the unspoken words between your lips, and he wishes he lived in a world where you could say them, and he could accept, but he doesn't.

So instead he settles for this. For one night where he can pretend he isn't a Malfoy and that he doesn't have the responsibilities he has been given. One night where you look at him and see the boy you once loved, and not a problem that needs to be fixed.

You slide your hands up his back, gasping against his mouth as he tugs on your hair just hard enough for it to sting. You can feel his hands make their way down your spine, and when his fingers glide over each ridge, it's like he's trying to memorize every divot of your body.

Draco was not the kind of boy who did things without a purpose. He had a reason when he bought the Slytherin team new brooms, just as he did when he joined Umbridge's student army. Tonight was no different. You could feel the finality in each of his touches, as though he was trying to fit every experience and emotion into one moment.

He brings his hands down to the hem of your sweater, lifting it up and over your head in one motion. A small breeze floats across your skin, scattering goosebumps in its wake. When he returns his lips to your neck and laves over your pulse, the shiver that runs through you isn't from the cold.

Your fingers make quick work of the buttons on his shirt, but when you move to cast it away, he grabs your hands and brings them down with a slight shake of his head. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your jaw, but when he bares his teeth, nipping at the junction where you neck meets your collarbone, your knees start to buckle.

Draco uses your momentum to lean you down on the ground, quickly tearing his jacket off and laying it under your head. Your body, laid out before him, is open for the taking, and he has to grit his teeth to keep his pants from tightening too fast. He makes quick work of your skirt, and when his cold fingers slide over your entrance, you shudder under him, before grasping his neck and bringing him down to kiss you again.

He enters you slowly, his lithe fingers taking their time as you gasp against his mouth. Your hips jump as he adds another finger, and the only sounds you hear are the deepening of your breaths and the twinkling of the wind chimes hung across the Astronomy tower.

Draco grips onto your waist, using his positioning to press you farther into the hard ground as you shudder beneath him. His fingers dig into your soft skin, relishing every sigh and touch you afford him. He knows he would take anything you would give him now, and he does.

When his thumb finds your clit, you are practically shaking, and a few more quick thrusts are all it takes to make you buck forward, your thighs tightening as moans spill from your lips.

He comes down for another searing kiss, swallowing your gasps as your aftershocks abate. You look so beautiful sprawled out in front of him, your eyes blissful and your mouth and neck splotched pink from his teeth.

"Draco," you whisper, sitting up and undoing the buttons of his pants. "I want this- I want you, please."

His skin is flushed and he looks ethereal with his shirt hanging over his shoulders. When his pants come off, he bends over you again, leaning you back slowly. His eyes don't leave yours as he enters you, taking his time until he bottoms out.

Your mouth parts with a silent cry and he pushes in again, unable to take his eyes off the divot between your eyebrows as pleasure overtakes you. You have always been beautiful and he closes his eyes for a moment, unable to believe he gets to have you like this.

He presses his lips to your throat, trying to put everything he can't say into the touch of your skin. I love you, I love you, I love you.

His thrusts hasten and he drags his teeth down your neck, fulfilling his primal urge to mark you in some way that's so much more pure and raw than the mark defiling his skin.

Your gasps get louder before suddenly you're tumbling over the edge. It's not long before you're taking him with you, and he presses his palm into the ground beside you to keep his body from falling onto yours.

You feel incredible around him, and for a moment he almost forgets about the brand piercing his wrist, turning him into someone he's not.

When you both come down, you smile at him sweetly, reaching up to smooth down the side of his messy hair.

He has to resist the urge to bend down and steal another kiss when a bell rings loudly and fear punctures his brain, blurring his vision momentarily.

They're coming.

"You have to get out of here," he hisses, grabbing your sweater and pressing it into your hands. "Now, go, please."

"Draco, you're scaring me," you say, tugging your sweater and skirt on as he buttons his shirt, murmuring something you can't hear under his breath. "Please just tell me what's happening."

"I need you to leave!" he yells and his voice sounds like a shard of broken glass. Sharp, cutting.

You aren't moving fast enough and he has to get you out of here before they arrive. Before the plan went into motion.

His wrist starts to burn even more, and he winces, grabbing it in a futile attempt to hold them off. It's the wrong move, because you catch his motions immediately, seizing his hand and yanking his sleeve back.

The mark is like a sickness and you blanch, recoiling away from him with a disgust he never thought he would see from you.

"I can't- I, I can't believe-" you stammer, your hands coming up to cover your mouth as nausea rolls through you. "How could you?"

He closes his eyes, unable to stand the hatred brewing in your eyes, no matter how much he deserves it. "It's over for me. I made my choice."

Maybe your friends were right. Maybe you really were a sucker for lost causes. Because even with the black stain of the Death Eaters staring you in the face, a small part of you screams out from under the rubble of your destroyed future together, begging you to search for a reason. An explanation.

"You didn't have a choice, Draco," you whisper, hardly able to get the words out.

He doesn't know whether to be proud or heartbroken that you are still trying to look for some good in him, but with the other Death Eaters only moments away from showing up, he can't have you here with him.

"I had a choice," he sneers, throwing as much bitterness and malice into his words as he can muster. "I had a choice, and I chose them."

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off, pulling his wand out of his back pocket. "Don't waste your breath. Nothing you say ever meant anything to me anyway."

Tears sting your eyes and you back away from him, feeling an unfamiliar hatred coursing through your veins. He turns away from you and you scramble to the staircase, tripping over the stairs as your eyes blur under the moonlight.

You are almost at the bottom when you hear the loud crack of an apparation, followed by a high-pitched cackle. When you turn back one last time, you see Draco raising his wand, and as Dumbledore comes into view, you push on, trying to get away from whatever is coming next.

The school feels eerily silent when you make it outside. The wind seems to have quieted down and the birds have stopped their chirping. It's only when Hermione calls out your name that you rush forward and see the aftermath of what must have happened after you left.

You look up instinctually, and when the railing of the Astronomy tower is empty, the tears flooding your eyes finally break free.

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