#Jason Isaacs imagine

[luciusbetterwife69]

Hate (Vasili x fem!reader)

Pairing: Vasili (Hotel Mumbai) x fem!reader

Attention!! Porn without plot! / Straight to porn!

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Author's note:

NEW FANFICTION!! Vasili X Reader this time :^ I hope you are fine with me being a little offline- I swear to god I have so much stuff to do...but still: Jason >>>

Also we need to appreciate Vasili more. That boy gets too less attention.. oh, btw..requests are open!! Feel free to ask anything! ^^ <33

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Yn and Vasili. God, how they hated each other…Vasili was one of the most famous man in the Hotel. His bad luck however, got him to share his room with a very special woman. Arrogant. Egoistic. Rich. Spoiled.

It was yn.

They hated each other with passion…so much passion, that they would let all the hate out in a very rough night together. And well, let's just say that “rough nights” happened very often..since Vasili and her got on each other's throats almost every day.

“Vasili, dear~” she called him to her. Never ever would Vasili call her like that- that's what he thought at least. Sometimes he would eventually give in to her even if he absolutely hated that.

Vasili got up from his chair, where he read his magazine earlier. As he walked towards from where the voice came, Vasili found yn laying on the bed of their shared room. Of course she was grinning. Of course it was pissing him off. Of course she knew exactly that.

“Shut up.” Vasili answered, only giving her a pissed look. Even if his face showed an annoyed expression, he perhaps might just wanted to jump on her and ravish that stupid woman who called herself his roommate.

“Make me, bastard.”

Vasili rolled his eyes. How could a woman be so fucking annoying as yn? And what the hell did he do to deserve her as his roommate??

Without spending any more time on listening to her insults or orders, the Russian man got up, sat down on the bed and grabbed both of her legs with his hands. “Shut the hell up now, bratty whore” he said in the usual cold tone that he always had with her.

Then he got rid of his shirt and put both of her legs on each side of his shoulder. The man looked good, that was out of question, but if only there was a little love in the room right now and they wouldn't hate each other that much.

“I hate you, Russian.” Yn said.

Vasili raised an eyebrow, not caring much anyways.

“Say it.”

“No, bastard.”

“Say it.” He said again.

Yn only remained stubborn, not reacting to his order at all. She didnt care what he said anyways, did she?

Vasili rolled his eyes at her stubbornness. He hated that as well. Her incredible stubbornness…how could someone be that annoying and stubborn?

“мудак” She whispered as Vasili unbuckled his belt, still sitting between her legs while they rested on his shoulders.

As he heard the insult she just threw at him, their eyes met for a brief moment. Enough said.

“Oh? So you wanna get it rough, hmm?” It was a whole different thing if she called him any name that meant something bad..or if she called him a russian name. He was a Russian himself. Otherwise than her.

With another swift move he had her legs off his shoulders, now wrapping them around his own waist as he finished unbuckling his belt. Yn responded with a gasp. A reaction that made the Russian grin slightly. He leaned over her and positioned himself.

Vasili was ready. So was she.

With one big thrust and a precise hip move- Vasili managed to push his whole length in, not caring about what the woman beneath him felt like right now.

Before she could dig her fingers in his back and scratch him, Vasili had already pinned her hands down to prevent exactly that.

Yn squeezed Vasilis bigger hand, feeling how his thickness stretched her insides like nothing else did. She hated to love it:

“Shhh, be quiet now, bratty.” The russian accent was practically dripping from his voice.

Vasili knew that she loved it. It turned her on. That was a game they played every single night.

“Hhh….h..hhh” The only reaction coming from the woman was her heavy breathing.

Vasili began to thrust his hips forward. He wasn't going slow, no, not today. Not when he hated her so much. Not when she told him how much she hated him during it. Vasili loved it.

“I hate you, Russian.” Yn brought out, fighing hard to hold the ragging of her breath back as the russian man set a rough pace.

“Well then…hate me harder, bratty. Come on now~” He answered. “You can do better.”

Despite all the slutty, hate-filled cries she gave him, Vasili kept pounding her in that rentlessless, vigorous pace. One hand pressed her hands down, making her squeeze his hand, making yn hate him further. “Now come on…cant you hate me further? Don't you hate me harder, hm? Cmon let it all out~”

“God damn it, I really hate y-...mmmh…hhh” Yn tried to say, failing as her own voice turned a little more hoarse. Vasili was good.

In all the months where they had been on each other's throats, he had found it most enticing when she was at the point where she couldn't speak. When she could say no more words. When she was at his mercy.

Vasili groaned and his hips snapped forward with such force yn could feel his thickness going inside and hitting her wall.

The Russian wanted to hear that he was the most hated person in her world, and still he was getting yn, in bed and willing to have wild and rough sex every single night.

“You know I love when you say that…so tell…tell me how much you hate me bratty.”

“Oh..fuck you, Russian~” Yn cried out, already struggling to keep her eyes open to look at her roommate leaning above her.

Vasili let go of her hand, allowing the woman to wrap her arm around his neck and even reach his shoulder blades with her hands. One hand of hers dug into his hair, causing the man to breathe out for a moment to get used to her grip. With his now free hand, Vasili gripped the bedsheets while still pounding her at a brutal pace.

Everytime he snapped his hips forward, she moaned louder and louder, her voice echoing off the walls. Vasili loved this so much.

“Tell me again~” He hissed slowly, approaching her neck with his mouth.

“God, I-...I hate you so m-much…~” It was a pure struggle to streak for yn at this point. “Hhh…Ngh~” She simply closed her eyes, letting Vasili mark her neck with a bite on her neck. He had marked her.

“That's it bratty…keep moaning. You caught the spirit.”

Vasili moaned as well, snapping his hips forward and not giving any sign to slow down orgo softer. Thrusting. Pounding. Snapping. The russian man really gave no sign of mercy.

They would keep this toxic relationship. It would not work somewhere else, but it did work in this hotel room.

“I hate you…I fucking hate you…I hate your beautiful, sexy body…I hate your smooth skin…I just hate you.”

With every single ‘I hate you’ Vasili thrusted deep into her, certainly hitting the woman’s cervix. He would watch how yn’s eyes rolled back slightly whenever he did that. It was pure satisfaction for him. “I hate you…I hate you so much…my bratty little princess…my slutty, bratty little princess…”

Yn tho, felt herself losing slowly. Not only did she feel herself slowly getting tighter, but Vasili as well. Yn was close. Terribly close.

“God damn you're so tight…” His Russian accent made it so much sweeter.

The woman couldn't answer, her breath hitched and her fingernails surely left marks in the man's skin.“Oh my lord, fuckkk…~” Yn moaned again. Her voice was hoarse and desperate. “Please…I-..ha-”

“Mmh~” Vasili groaned in response, not letting her finish her sentence. “Say my name, bratty. Say my name.”

That was the point where she lost it.

Yn closed her eyes, narrowing her eyebrows and opening her mouth again- only to say nothing and let her breath rag in her throat. She was gasping for air, digging her nails into Vasilis shoulder blades.

The womans hips buckled, lifting her back up from the matress as Vasili gave her one last deep thrust to feel a wave of pleasure.

Before she could moan anything, Vasili had pushed his lips against hers and kept her quiet. In betweeen that deep and angry kiss, yn still moaned a quiet “Vasili~” into his mouth.

After the russian had pulled away, he still remained leaning over her to let his climax run its course. His strong, heavy body covered hers, he panted against yn’s neck as their hearts beat furiously against their both chests.

With a depp breath and a finaly move Vasili pulled out, letting his fluids run out of yn’s still wet cunt. He rolled off her body and laid next to her.

“I hate you, russian bastard…fuck you…” Yn breathed, panting just as much he russian roommate did.

Vasili chuckled. His breath slowly came back to normal. With a still slightly flushed face and a necks covered in sweat, he gave her a sly grin.

“Bratty…” He smirked.

[celestialvoid-fanfiction]

Derek: Did you have a good day?

Isaac: Yes.

Stiles: No.

Isaac, to Stiles: Shut up.

Derek: So, you had a good day?

Isaac: Yes.

Stiles: No.

Isaac, to Stiles: Shut up!

Derek, to Isaac: You were meant to make sure he got some sleep.

Isaac: I made sure he got some sleep.

Stiles: He knocked me unconscious.

Isaac: It’s the same thing!

[sserpente]

The Weight of a Promise

“I want her.” Your heart sank when Gortash pointed at you with his chin. He leaned back, a waitress hurrying toward his table to clear the dirty plates because you were frozen in place, paralysed as if bitten by a Spectator. Hot needles pierced your stomach.

“M-me? But I’m not…I’m not a…”

“Then you shall have her. I’ll have her sent up to you shortly, Lord Gortash. Make yourself comfortable.”

A/N: Just hear me out, okay!

Words: 3721 Warnings: smut, dub-con, prostitute!Reader

Additional NSFW Warnings: CMNF, loss of virginity

“I want her.” Your heart sank when Gortash pointed at you with his chin. He leaned back, a waitress hurrying toward his table to clear the dirty plates because you were frozen in place, paralysed as if bitten by a Spectator. Hot needles pierced your stomach.

“M-me? But I’m not…I’m not a…”

“Then you shall have her. I’ll have her sent up to you shortly, Lord Gortash. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice was shrill, panicked. You turned to face Mamzell Amira glaring at you. It was a warning look, one she was daring you to defy.

“No!”

Gortash raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing on his handsome features. It resulted in Mamzell Amira huffing an awkward laugh, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the kitchen. The chef protested but she paid him no mind.

“Do not embarrass me in front of the Archduke! Have you got any idea how important it is for us to have his support for our establishment?”

“I am not a prostitute. When you hired me, I insisted it would be to serve food and drinks only, not to spread my legs for your customers. My contract doesn’t say—”

You admired the courage and the sensuality of your colleagues around here. Their life sounded like a never-ending adventure but it was one you were less eager to become a part of. Mamzell Amira was the only one who’d given you a chance. In exchange for your work, you were allowed to take shelter in one of the smaller rooms upstairs and receive three meals a day. You’d signed a contract for it, even.

Waitress, it had said. Not waitress and sex worker.

“I know what your contract says, girl. But this is Lord Enver Gortash out there.”

“Just tell him to pick someone else! You won’t make him pay anyway!”

“He doesn’t want someone else. He wants you.”

“Then tell him I’m not available!” You clenched your fists, anger and panic boiling up inside you.

“I will do no such thing! You either go up there now and make the archduke happy or I’ll kick you out and you’re back out on the streets before you can say ‘sex’!”

“You bitch.”

“Call me what you will. But I will not have you jeopardise my relationship with the very ruler of Baldur’s Gate.”

When he first entered the establishment with a Fist and a Steel Watcher in tow, the whole room went silent. Excitement rippled through your colleagues like electricity, you could tell. They went rigid, giddy, wide smiles spreading on their lips.

Others merely widened their eyes. Lord Enver Gortash at Sharess’ Caress? Unlikely. Outrageous! But then again even archdukes needed some release and fun every now and then, no? Well, you didn’t buy it, scoffing as you collected some empty glasses to bring to the kitchen.

Something was off with this man. His Steel Watch came out of nowhere and the way he made himself out to be the saviour of Baldur’s Gate…it didn’t sit right with you. This man was no selfless hero, one look into his eyes was enough to determine that. Funnily enough, however, no one else seemed to notice. Or perhaps they didn’t want to notice so as long as he protected them from this Absolute cult threatening the city. Either way, it was ridiculous. There were rumours spread by sceptics, even. Dark rumours that he worshipped Bane, the god of tyranny.

So here you were now, in a pickle. Sleep with the man who painted himself as a saint without payment or lose the roof over your head and starve out in the streets. You cursed, storming past Mamzell Amira and fighting the gag forcing its way up your throat when you realised what you were about to do.

“First room to the right. Do not disappoint him!”

It was a fucking walk of shame, it felt like every single person you walked past knew exactly what you were about to do. Some probably envied you. Others must have been relieved they were not in your situation.

Gortash had already made himself comfortable on the large king-size bed when you slipped into the room and locked the door behind you.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he announced.

“Sorry, my lord. There were some…discrepancies.”

He chuckled. “Do you often contradict your employers? I would have expected more eagerness from a pretty thing like you.”

You gnashed your teeth, swallowing down the snarky remark dancing on your tongue. He waited. And waited. And waited.

“I’m not really, um…sure what to do.” Blood bit at your cheeks, embarrassment creeping up your spine. Gods, this was so absurd. Was it really worth it?

Gortash tilted his head. “You have done this before, have you not? Don’t lie to me,” he added.

You sighed. Well, fuck you, Amira.

“No. I haven’t. I’m not a prostitute. Mamzell Amira sold me to you despite her promise I’d only be working here as a waitress.”

“I see.”

Your eyes darted up, seeking compassion in his dark eyes. Perhaps he’d understand, perhaps he’d pick someone else after all and chide the brothel owner for breaching the contract she’d made you sign…but there was none. Only hunger.

“Come here.”

“Did you…did you not hear me?”

“I did. My ears work very well, dear.”

So he didn’t care. And if you refused him now…you could imagine more comfortable things than facing the wrath of a man who built an army of automatons seemingly overnight.

“Take off your dress. Let me see you.”

You obeyed—you didn’t have much choice, after all. It could have been worse, no? Gortash was handsome at least. Duke Ravenguard, as self-righteous as he was, would have been a less appealing option with how old he was compared to Gortash.

You weren’t exactly graceful when you stepped out of your dress, undergarments following quickly. Gortash made no move to undress himself in the meantime, instead watched every single one of your movements like a hawk, amused and greedy, even more so when you pushed yourself to climb on the bed.

Come to think of it…there was not a single man who had ever seen you naked, except for your father maybe when you were still an infant and needed a nappy change. This was new. Different, terrifying considering the circumstances and…exciting?

Fuck, you shouldn’t find this exciting! You didn’t want to do this, you only meant to survive, to…

You couldn’t finish the thought. Gortash leaned forward, pulling you against him. The cool metal of the demonic faces on his armour against your palm was only a small comfort as he rolled you both over and then towered above you with a smirk.

And against all reason, when he leaned down to kiss your lips, your eyes fell shut. Fuck, no!

“You can’t…” You didn’t know much about prostitution but if there was one thing you did know, it was that kissing was usually off-limits.

“Of course I can.” Gortash grabbed your chin, deepening the kiss. It felt…good. Intimate. Almost like he meant it. His tongue slipped into your mouth, battling yours for dominance you gave up far too quickly for your own liking.

You shivered when he pressed himself even closer to you, forcing your legs apart. The metal and the leather dug into your bare skin, your hands wandering, exploring his chest in a frenzy. Your body was…reacting to him in the most delicious ways.

You realised the very moment he freed his hardening length from his leather trousers that you were getting wet. The heat between your legs had you breathing heavily, even more so when you laid eyes on his arousal. Soft black hair framed the base of his erection, his tip red and eager and leaking precum. You were worried for a moment how it would fit with how inexperienced you were. If you tensed up out of nervousness…surely it would hurt.

Gortash released your lips with a deep breath, adjusting himself between your legs. With one hand, he guided himself to your weeping entrance, with the other he stroked your cheek before focusing on your left breast, his thumb teasing your nipple.

“Relax, dear. This is supposed to be pleasurable for us both.” Was it? You very much doubted the archduke cared if you…well, finished. Yet, with how breath-taking being with him felt in this very moment, perhaps he truly did mean his words.

Inch by antagonising inch, he spread you wide open, pushing inside. He went slow, savouring every last moment. His expression was calm, blissful, almost…beautiful.

He stretched you further and further, a light burn spreading between your legs and then…it was over, leaving nothing but pleasure behind. Gortash filled you to the brim, bathing in the sensation and perhaps, letting you get used to his size before he started moving. He withdrew slowly, propped himself up on one elbow and kept kneading your breasts with his free hand, before he plunged himself back in, fucking you in a slow and steady rhythm that had your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Gortash took his sweet time, savouring every single second. Grinding against you, he buried himself inside you as deep as he could, pounding you into the mattress. He was eager for his release, yet when he reached down to where your bodies met to find your clit with an easiness that made you flinch, you couldn’t help but allow a moan to escape your lips.

He chuckled in response, his thrusts getting harder, more uncontrolled. Fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. It felt good. He felt good. His thumb was massaging that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs even better than when you did it, hidden under your blanket at night. And whenever you did it, there was no one watching your every reaction like you were the most desirable woman in Faerûn.

There was amusement too though. It was clear by now he wanted you to come. Not for your sake—but for his. Whether it was to satisfy his ego, to confirm he knew what he was doing in bed or simply because you could only imagine how pleasurable it must have felt for him for your cunt to clench around him, to milk him for all he was worth.

Gortash left you no choice. You climbed higher and higher, unable to escape the bliss he bestowed upon you even if you wanted to. Part of you longed to deny him your pleasure, to not let him win this wicked game of his. But it was no use.

You were coming before a curse could leave your lips. You fell apart beneath him, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning bolt. Your toes curled, your muscles tensed, endorphins clouded your senses. Your moans made him smirk, your contracting pussy made him groan.

He seemed to grow even harder then, his sinful grunts the sexiest sound you had ever heard. He moved slightly, digging his fingers deep into your flesh as he grabbed your hips, surely leaving angry marks that would remind you of this encounter for days to come.

For a moment, he was no longer the fearsome archduke or the self-proclaimed hero of Baldur’s Gate. He was a man enslaved to lust and carnal desire—just as you were a woman of the same affliction. You moaned as he pumped his seed into you, his hard cock twitching and jerking against your walls until eventually…he collapsed on top of you with a satisfied sigh, leaving you both to process the aftermath in silence.

You swallowed as soon as the last waves of pleasure had ebbed away, realisation of what you had just done hitting you square in the face like a painful blow. You rose, shifting forward quickly in an attempt to climb out of bed and retrieve your clothes—to forget this ever happened before it could plant its roots into your mind even though part of you longed to do this again. Not with just anyone—with him.

Gortash chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist, preventing you from leaving. “Are you in a hurry?”

“N-no.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind staying for a while longer.” His fingertips ghosted over your shoulder blade, leaving goose bumps behind in the process.

You should have resisted. Should have wailed, screamed, lashed out. You didn’t. Instead, you let your body relax and…enjoy the intimacy between you.

“Are the rumours true?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Are what rumours true?”

“Are you…a Bane worshipper?”

Silence. Long enough for you to regret your question.

“Bane is a god like any other, dear. And he can lead you to great power. He knows that power demands sacrifice—sacrifices not everyone is willing to make.”

It wasn’t an answer and yet it was. You refrained from another comment. After all, you intended to keep your head after losing your virginity.

He made you talk about yourself after this. Tell him your name, where you were from, where your family was. Light small talk you would have brushed off as mere politeness if it wasn’t Lord Enver Gortash you were conversing with.

You remained careful not to reveal too much about yourself. Trust came a long way and just because he had fucked you into the next year and proved that he was surprisingly good in bed that did not mean you would throw all caution out of the window.

After you’d gotten dressed again, you accompanied him downstairs where he was met by a smiling Mamzell Amira behind the counter by the entrance.

“I hope you had a good time, Lord Gortash?”

“A very good time indeed. Now…how much do I owe you for the time of this lovely flower of yours?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes even though part of you rejoiced. It was ridiculous just how much you enjoyed his attention and affection despite your suspicion and your fucked-up situation. Besides, his wordplay regarding your virginity did not go amiss. Mamzell Amira perchance hadn’t even been aware of your inexperience.

“Lord Gortash, please…you owe nothing at all. We are glad that you enjoyed your time here—and I hope we will see you again very soon.”

Your face fell. You had expected something like this. It hurt nonetheless. You had given your virginity to this man…and it wasn’t even worth a single gold piece.

Gortash smirked. “We shall see. I am a busy man.”

“Oh, busy men especially should take a rest every now and then. Enjoy your evening, Lord Gortash.”

The archduke nodded, shooting a final glance in your direction before he strutted off like he owned the place. Mamzell Amira’s eyes found yours.

“Thank you,” she said.

You walked away from her without a response.

Dunk the plate, wash it, dry it, stack it. Everything went back to normal in the following weeks. Except it didn’t. Nothing was back to normal. You’d lost your trust in Mamzell Amira, in your colleagues…and you’d lost what you’d been meaning to keep for someone special.

Gortash was special, there was no denying that. But the love of your life? Hardly. Amira didn’t mention again what you had done for her but she also didn’t ask you to do it again with another customer. After a few days, it almost felt like it never happened. Like it was all a dream. A nightmare—or a very twisted and yet exciting sex dream. Perhaps until today.

“Mamzell Amira wishes to speak to you.” It was one of the drow who stuck their head through the gap in the door with a sweet smile. You sighed, dried your hands quickly and abandoned the dirty plates in the sink.

The shit-eating grin on her face when you approached the counter was unsettling, to say the least.

“You will not believe the news I have.”

Your heart sank. Was Gortash coming back? Did he want…you…again?

“I’m shivering with anticipation,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice like venom.

“Watch your tongue, girl. Now. Lord Gortash has requested you to join him in Wyrm’s Rock. I can hardly blame him. The man is busy—that way, it won’t be necessary for him to make the journey.”

“What in the hells is that supposed to mean?”

Mamzell Amira rolled her eyes. “It means you are to pack your things. You will be staying with the archduke from today on.”

“You…you have no right to do that. I am not your slave. I am a contracted waitress!”

“I may not. But Lord Gortash certainly does. Now pack your things. There is a Steel Watcher outside waiting to escort you.”

You clenched your fists. “And if I refuse?”

Mamzell Amira narrowed her eyes. “Refuse and I will not take you back. I can only imagine the consequences you will face if you tell Lord Gortash you are not interested in his generous offer.”

“Generous?” You shrieked.

“Lord Gortash is requesting your presence at Wyrm’s Rock.” The Steel Watcher spoke your name, repeating the order over and over again. It didn’t quite fit through the door but its robotic voice could be heard a little too well regardless.

Fuck. Mamzell Amira had a point, of course. You would lose regardless of what option you chose. And if Lord Gortash truly did worship Bane as you suspected…you bit your lower lip. Starvation, hypothermia or death by the archduke, one that would never see the light of day…none of these options sounded very appealing to you.

And against all reason…you had enjoyed his company. His touch, his lips, his skilled fingers…his cock…

“Fine. I’ll go get my things.”

Mamzell Amira nodded.

“Lord Gortash is requesting your presence at Wyrm’s Rock” was the last thing you heard as you made your way upstairs and grabbed the other dress you owned, along with a small leather bag containing three gold pieces.

There were no goodbyes, no hugs, no “take care and good luck”. Most of the sex workers were busy with customers and Mamzell Amira, quite apparently, couldn’t give less of a fuck whether she’d just condemned you to the hells.

You followed the Steel Watcher feeling like you were being escorted to your execution, across the massive bridge, past stone walls, curious Fists and citizens and eventually, up a narrow set of stairs leading to Gortash’s office and private chambers.

The Steel Watcher closed the door behind you—heavy wooden doors you knew without trying you’d be unable to open all by yourself.

There he was, smirking at you from his luscious armchair. Your name rolled off his tongue almost pleasantly as he greeted you. You were supposed to bow so you knew, yet your limbs and spine refused to move even an inch. You clutched your bag tighter.

“Was I being unclear? I asked you to take all of your belongings with you. I have no intention of sending you back anytime soon.”

“That’s, um…” You cleared your throat, cursing your embarrassment. “…that’s all I own. My lord.”

“That? Is all you own?” He eyed the bundled-up garments in your hand. Surely you looked as pathetic as you felt.

“Are you telling me you own only two dresses?”

It was a hand-me-down from one of the prostitutes who no longer fit in it. Hence, it was a lot more revealing than you would have liked. The one you wore was plain, the fabric stained and worn-out toward the bottom.

“Yes.”

“Hmm…we shall rectify that. I’ll have someone sent to Figaro to retrieve some. As my concubine, you should look the part.”

You blinked. “What did you say?”

Gortash’s eyes met yours, amusement glistening in his.

“C-Concubine?”

“Why else did you think I’d send for you? To discuss political matters?” He chuckled. You weren’t quite sure why but it had you seethe.

“Mamzell Amira made quite a generous offer,” he explained.

“Which is?”

“You. In exchange for a lowered tax rate for the brothel.”

“T-that’s it? She…she didn’t even ask for payment for me?”

Gortash tilted his head and chuckled yet again. “Did you think you’d fetch a hefty sum? She did tell me she picked you up from the streets. Clearly, she must have thought your loss wouldn’t affect her business much.”

He might as well have reached for a dagger and plunged it deep into your heart. Tears pricked at your eyes, worsening your sight. You blinked them away frantically, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

“Now, now…surely Mamzell Amira had only your best interests in mind when she sold you off. After all, I live a very wealthy life here in Wyrm’s Rock. First, we can get you some nice jewellery to wear.”

“I don’t care about jewellery.”

“Then what do you care about?”

“Bodily autonomy,” you murmured.

“What was that?” When you didn’t repeat yourself, he continued. “You are free to go if that is what you’re implying. But I think we both know what your alternative is.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not? A shame.” Only he did not sound regretful at all.

“You expect me to let you fuck me whenever you please but you won’t pay me because I was a gift from the brothel! Are you even listening to yourself?”

“You are getting paid. You’ll have a bed, warm meals, clean garments…and my protection on top of that.”

“So I am nothing more than a slave in a golden cage.”

“If that is what you would like to call it, then by all means. I have business to tend to now. When I return, I expect you to have bathed. And—do throw away those hideous dresses.”

He moved toward the door but before he left, he turned around again.

“I will treat you well, dear. I can promise you that.”

“How much weight does a promise hold these days? The previous one got me into this situation in the first place.”

“I am a man of my word. I have no reason to lie to you. All I ask in return is that you behave. You can do that, hmm?”

He smirked, his expression playful. He left before you could utter another word.

Fine. You’d play his game. And may the gods help you, you will win.

Part II

[gurlbesimpin]

How would Karl Heisenberg and Lucius Malfoy treat a daughter? Separately ofc

Good question!

-I'm thinking a Pansy Parkinson type girl.

-Spoiled but adored (from both Cissy and Lucius)

-Most likely a Slytherin

-They'd be unhappy with Ravenclaw, but could come to terms with it. But Gryffindor or Hufflepuff? Nope. Never in a million years.

-She'd be just as bratty as Draco (if not more)

-Definitely a "Daddy's girl"

-strict house rules tho

-Lucius and Cissy may not show affection in public, but in the books it's often shown that they do love draco unconditionally. So the same would apply to their daughter.

-Named after an ancestor or constellation

-She'd be a little miss perfect (and also a bitch)

-think Minister's daughter type thing

-has so much jewelry it's ridiculous

-definitely was taught ladylike manners by Cissy

-for some reason I'd think she'd specialize in herbology and jinxes

-in public Cissy is the more hands on parent to her, but in private Lucius and Cissy dote on her like draco

-she has Cissy's looks and lucius' attitude

-bellatrix would adore her niece

-one word. Princess

-he may not seem to be the sweetest man, but when he has a daughter his inner dad comes out

-he'd make her toys

-he's the kind of dad to throw their kid up in the air and catch them

-rules? Idk what that means

-if she showed interest in his profession, he'd sit her down and talk for hours about engineering

-would call her "pumpkin" sometimes

-i can see her hopping on his tummy because he's so soft (he pretends to be annoyed but he finds it adorable)

-named whatever the first thing comes to mind

-hopefully not named Soldat Kind

-he doesn't like pink, but if she does, suddenly half the factory is pink

-would adopt a cat for her

-tells her stories from his life (the family friendly versions of them tho)

-would call himself a certified girl dad

[lightgaswaterelectricityrent]

what if I said I thought we could make it work

[redhandedjill2000]

"A hero would sacrifice you to save the world... but a villain would sacrifice the world to save you."

[simp-ly-writes]

The City (original)

Pairing: Enver Gortash x afab!Reader, Wyll Ravengard x afab!Reader

Summary: You and Enver had grown up together, houses just down the road. Everything was a competition between you both before realizing it was easier to fight alongside one another. Yet as you both age, Gortash forces you away and you find yourself falling into the arms of another.

Warnings: 4200 words, spoilers for bg3 story. Mentions of underage drinking and marriage. Depictions of kissing and children facing blood, gore, abuse, bullying, and anxiety. Overall Angst with moments of Fluff!

A/N: I know Gortash is not a good man, but this is a work of fiction. Hope you all enjoy! :)

Masterlist | Taglist Request | un-edited.

Mere children when you and Gortash first met. Living above the bookstore your family owned just down the street- taking in used books and (often stolen) trinkets you would pickpocket in the bustling lower city streets.

When your small hands were not fiddling through other's pockets or handbags you were found in the stores bay-window, reading with your head leaning against the glass. Your mother shouting at you for smudging the storefront windows once again as she shooed you away and back up the stairs that creaked and groaned with each step you took.

Yet, when the next morning arose, the sun kissed your face through the cracks in the roof-work. You were forced with a bag on your back, what little food your parents could scrape together from last night's dinner for lunch and a heavy weight of books that never got sold as you were pushed to follow a line of other children making their way up to the school placed on the grounds of the church.

The sun was beating down on your neck, your hair a frazzled mess. Huffing through your next steps and almost slipping back down at a loose stone, you fell backwards, eyes closed in a brace for the tumble to come yet it never came. Instead you found you and a few other of your future classmates in a pile, the line snapped before the others walked around you all.

A girl with flowing red hair blushed whipped her head over to you, her hair swatting you in the face- her gaze settling your bone into stone then ash. Standing back up she kicked a piece of that loose stone into your face, you instantly felt the stinging, a train of blood escaping down your cheek to your chin and onto your shirt.

You watched as she walked away, tears fresh in your eyes, palms burning from the fall as small pebbles make imprints on your hands. You picked up a stone, hands shaking in revenge before a book was dropped in your lap. Looking up, a boy with deep set eyes, full cheeks, and a head covered in black hair stared down at you, nose turned upwards as he took in your state.

"Pick yourself up now, you will get the whole class in trouble if you start things," he said, hands placed behind his back- grasping another book of yours. Turning on his heel he ran back up to join the line as you brushed off your pants and resituated your bag on your shoulders. She started it, you replied in your head, knowing that all your peers were out of ear-shot.

--

You would later realize you were missing a book as you made your way home after your first few days of school. You had vocalized to your parents how much you detested the building that almost killed a child when the door sealed shut to the cellar underneath- filled to the brim with rats carrying disease. Or how that red-haired girl would not stop tormenting you and most of all, from all your readings- the school had refused to allow you to move up grades as you were stuck repeating what you had already known.

Yet your parents had none of it. "You are most fortunate to be given a formal education, I was never given such opportunities at your age," your mother reprimanded you. Your father is swatting the back of your head, hoping to rearrange your thoughts.

Hands shaking and no dinner to be served that night, you made your way out onto the streets- hoping to steal a fortune. Or in reality, a slice of bread to keep yourself for the night. Your bag feeling light as you snuck through the dim alleyways as the red sky painted the wet cobblestone's beneath your feet.

Shivering as a gust comes from underneath a vent you wait atop of to strike on a travelling couple in the towns-square, you keep your other eye trained on the flaming fists marching around to clear the streets for the evening. Their demands ringing in your ears, your eyes trained and hands readied, you are almost un-noticing that a smaller set of hands reach once more into your bag, exchanging the book earlier for the newest stock in your bag.

Sending a kick backwards, you hear a hiss as the body falls to the floor, the metal cover of the vent coming undone as officers come dashing at the sound. You glare down through the emerging darkness, eyes catching a familiar pair of brown that level your look. His eyes snap over your shoulder as he is quick to stand. The hurried footsteps near as you freeze in panic, knees gone straight before you are flung forwards as his hand intertwines with your own.

He runs as you follow, through the alleyways, down by the sea and up towards your houses. You both pant, climbing over the fence, you offer him a hand as the clanging of metal armour haunts your face, eyes widened in fear as he takes your help, you both falling over into the bushes below.

The thorns prickle at your features, cut through the skin on your arms and by your ankles as the laboured breaths and heavy footsteps carry past the garden. Looking over to your side, you find your classmate already looking at you, his hand covers over his mouth as you move to do the same. Eyes crinkling in relief, in a laugh that never comes to be before your parents are shouting your name from inside the house.

You both pick yourselves up, your hand open as he helps himself up. Yet you wiggle your fingers still, head tilted in a silent demand as he rolls his eyes with a huff, throwing both books into your arms before turning his shoulder to you. "Thank you," you tease out lighting, holding out a smile as adrenaline still pumps through your ears like a drum-beat.

"I will get them back," he states, refusing to look you in the eyes. His shoulders stiff as if to reassure his iron will. "Mhm," you hum out, bumping his shoulder with your own before darting off inside. He watches you run away, climbing up the veins and to the second story before hoping back over the fence and down the street.

A voice tickles his ears, a whisper to get those books back, to show you not to tease him. They end as the door rings, singling his return to a silent home- his parents dead asleep as he locks the cobblers door behind him and retreats to his covers for the night.

--

The next day, you pack an extra book in your bag from your stack underneath your bed. Your parents come to apologize for the prior night, money and sustenance toying with their minds and actions they state as you think nothing of it and accept it without another thought. Mind already focused on getting to the school as your parents wonder where this new desire to go came from.

You are careful to step around the loose rocks of the path. Legs sore from the uphill climb as the church bell rings for the new hour. You pick up your pace, the teacher already yelling at a student as they are forced to the back blackboard, a series of lines already being written as you keep your head down and find a seat near the back.

--

By the time lunch break signals as you are without food for the afternoon. The extra time has you realizing the lack of a certain raven-haired boy you ran through the alleyways with, your clothes still stinking of the sewer gasses as you wince at how close you both were to getting caught. Your bag is still heavy with the books... you check to make sure, a surprise you find when rocks and a torn page from one of the books greets you. Scratched into the sheet with a piece of charcoal smudged against its surface is the following note, I would get them back - E. G.

His words tease you, remind you, just like you did to him. You smile, a shake of your head as your mind wanders of when he could have gathered them. Your imagination runs wild as you fail to realize your fantasy has become reality as he sits beside you silently in the grass.

You open and close your mouth, trying to start multiple conversations. He never continues without simple yes or no answers before the bell rings and you are being called inside once more. A student screams from the basement as your spine coils, shoulders falling forward as you threaten to spill your last meal. The boy shoves you through the doorway as you turn to glare back at him. Merely shrugging he picks a seat behind you, giving your chair a kick for good measure as you go to sit.

You turn around, hands raised as he leans back in his chair, eyes gleaming with joy at your outburst as the teacher orders you to your seat. Sighing and flipping open your journal, you start your recall once more and you both would soon discover your second clash with one another. Seeing who could get their work done the most accurately and quickest.

Pens flying across the page and flipped onto the next with a swish. You both stood up at the same time, chairs screeching against the wood, a speedy walk up towards the teachers desk where you tapped your foot anxiously for a score. A grin arising in the other's defeat, stepping on his foot for good measure he threatened you to rethink your choices and before you knew it, you were racing your way back home as his shouts only encouraged your smiles and laughs all the way back home.

--

By the end of the week, you would come to know more about this fellow thief and classmate of yours as your nightly steals were now hangouts for the two of you- bags heavy with various golds and collectables from wizards to warriors alike.

Your parents praised you, business had never been better as your spoils came with gold and sales. One night, you both were not so lucky- having to escape to the lower city sewers below. Fighting off enemies and gang members to the best of your abilities. Your friend had gotten stabbed in the hand, taking his arm around your shoulder, and as much of his weight you could take- you carried him back home and dressed his hand with what little cloth and fresh water you could find.

You cursed the man that had done this to him- making a mission of finding and dealing the same back. You told him so, as the raven-haired boy shook his head at you. So enraptured in your anger you didn't pay mind to the boy's cries of pain when you gripped his bloody hand so tight. He flung you off him, you landed to the ground with an echoing thud as he heaved up and down.

"Apologies," you spoke out lightly, picking yourself back up. The boy nodded once, accepting your apology before you got back to work. Doing your best from what little you remember from health class. As the sun threatened to wake the city once more, you both leaned against the wall of his parents shoe store, watching as the sun kissed every gleaming tile of the roof.

"My name is Enver," he said softly, as if worried about ruining this moment. You look at him, placing your head on his shoulder- your body tired and yet you both had school to attend in a mere couple of hours. "(name)," you replied, checking on his hand once more before allowing your eyes to close.

--

In the coming months, you and Enver would become inseparable. Taking seats beside one another in class, inviting the other over for dinner by using the money you had both stolen to eat on the rooftops together. You both felt on top of the world in moments like that.

Enver would eventually show you to the basement of his house, albeit with a cold exterior that had you second guessing if you should follow but he insisted nonetheless. Your breath hitched as you looked around the room in awe. Various gadgets and tinkerings were found littered over the shelves alongside the machinery for the store. You looked at Enver with bright eyes, jumping up and down in wonder as he talked you through the designs he had made.

"My parents hate it, but they know it's one of the few things that allows my mind to settle," he explained, taking your hand in his. "Is this why you force me to steal from the factories?" you ask, picking up a small robot that fires to life, its blue eyes staring into your own as its hands twist and turn in circles.

"I never FORCE you to steal, you were already doing that on your own," he teases as you turn to stick your tongue out to him. "Speaking of which- we should get started soon, the streets are starting to empty," Enver comments, looking out the singular small window. You nod your head, putting down the robot that watches as you both leave up the ladder.

--

In the coming years, you and Enver only grew closer to one another. So much so that your parents forced you away from him, sending you away to a better school as your stealing had allowed your family to move up within society. You refused, yelled and kicked to no end yet they were unrelenting on making sure you both were distanced. "We cannot have you ruining yourself when we are better than them," your father explained in the carriage as you pressed your face against the glass, remembering back to your last moments together.

You and Enver were having lunch, taking the afternoon to skip classes to fit amongst his tinkerings. You ruffled through your bag, reading through his diagram while building a smaller piece to an automatic press. In the clashing of metal, and your laughter as a contraption exploded in his face, sending his hair flying upwards. His parents came crashing down, horror gracing their eyes as they practically threw you out of their house.

"It is you!" his mother spat in your face, "you who has corrupted my boy's mind!" You violently shook your head, tears welling in your eyes as you struggled to come up with words to protest. Anger started to surge as Gortash stood their solid and unmoving beside his father. His face set in stone as he blankly stared through you. Was he ever my friend? you question to yourself, unknowing to the inner turmoil that was coursing through his veins.

It is better this way, Gortash thinks to himself, watching as you leave and bracing for the punch from his father that sends his head reeling back into the live wires and sharp metals beneath. He twists in pain, holding out a sob before standing himself back up. "You are to leave this evening boy, your mother and I can have you no longer."

--

You find yourself back in the carriage, still a ways to go as your mother reaches forward, you do your best not to flinch away. Her face flashes of Envers' mother for a brief moment. "They were jealous to see your family living a better life," your mother explained, rubbing circles onto the back of your hand as you started to pick at your new clothes.

You knew otherwise, you knew something else had to be happening. Your little active mind searched and wandered endlessly. Combing through every memory and moment with precision yet you always came back empty handed. Why leave so suddenly and with such cruelty? You belittle yourself, and soon those happy memories of you two together as children became tainted in your growing anger for not understanding why he casted you aside.

So, in the upper city you made new friends, found new work and games to play with words instead of knives and fists. Becoming lost in the words of your parents explaining that this was the life you all were deserving of- that you worked so hard towards. You allowed yourself to become lost with the yards of fabric skirts, false smiles and rumours galore.

You kept your grades up, kept your head raised as you walked past the distasteful looks that graced you and into the sights of a boy your age named Wyll. He saw much of himself and his family's history instilled in you as he listened to gossip about you down the halls and city streets. He offered you a chair at his table when coming back home for breaks.

You unloaded your secrets and stories onto one another during your pre-teen years. He allowed you to unload your cooped-up energy from your past fighting life to train with one another. Sword-fighting and forgetting to attend class with each spar. His father, Duke Ravengard even takes you underneath his wing.

--

As you got older, your school-years ending in a few months time you and Wyll had started courting one another formally. Your parents were anxious, watching as you would come home bruised and tired as you explained the training you both were undertaking- your parents worried that you were trying to turn back to your past self. Yet you assured them, holding Wylls hand in your own, "I fight nobelly now- I have no reason why not to," you explain, Wyll nodding along- agreeing with your statement.

Soon you both were dancing at every ball together, once, twice, sneaking a thrice against the judgement of polite society. Your hand on his shoulder, his on your waist pulling you closer. Eyes shining as the music hummed out, partners around you both bowing as you quickly remember to do the same. Wyll laughed, dipping low as your heads knocked against one another, a blush coating your cheeks as you swore underneath your breath.

Wyll now gripped your arm up to a stand, leading you both outside to laugh fully together. Your stomach twisting and hurting from how hard you were laughing before those tingles became a burning passion in seeing his arms flexing in his uniform as he gripped the banister of the balcony to support himself. The way his eyes crinkled in your direction- a toothy smile he reserved only for you.

"I love you," you blurted out, eyes wide as you covered your mouth- surprised that you admitted to such things. You had only been friends for a few years, lovers a few months and were still considered children to some degree- emerging into your young adult years yet when he paused his laughter, caught his breath and took your hand into his own. Leaning down to press his forehead against your own, "I love you too." Your mind cleared of shaggy black hair and sunrises to take in Wyll’s lips against your own.

Your hands gripped his forearms, pulling the man closer to yourself. His hand tipped your head upwards to deepen the kiss, another placed on your waist as you both walked backwards. Your back hitting the banister. He caged you in between his arms, your skin on fire as your nails dug themselves into the material as your lungs burned from air.

Pulling away, Wyll's cheeks are flushed. He appears breathless, his eyes widened in shock for his own actions as he slowly turns his head back to the ballroom. "We shouldn't have done that," Wyll says in a low voice. Your heart burns, mind still foggy as you take in what just happened. Swallowing the growing lump in your throat, you croak out a why?, setting yourself back upright. "Your standings in society-"

"Wyll," you state his name softy, hands moving up his arms to his shoulders and then his head as you pull his gaze back to you, "I am already an outcast- is that not why we found one another in the first place?"

Wyll pulls you into a hug, relaxing into your arms as you rub up and down his back. Looking over his shoulder you see Duke Ravengard looking at you both, he raises a glass and a smile towards you as you nod your head in reply. Watching as he turns to your parents, a few words exchanged as you hold pleading eyes towards them. Your mother mouths a later as you turn back to your lover- he presses a kiss to your cheek.

Pulling away, you both return to the event arm in arm, walking towards your families while grabbing some drinks and food along the way. "You are both to wed after you return from university," your father demands, eyes glaring at the boy on your arm as Ravengard claps a hand on your fathers shoulder. "They will make a brilliant pair, they have fight in them- leaders, no- protectors of this city they will be," he says with such certainty, clinking your glasses together you feel a great sense of anxious as you claim to be feeling tired, Wyll escorting you toward your carriage with one last kiss to your forehead before sending a few words of warning to your driver, demanding to return you home safely.

--

While you were getting high off of high society life, Enver found himself the servant to a devil, Raphael to be specific. His parents were at their wits ends, trying to keep up with their sons changing behaviour as soon as they casted you away.

They thought their son to be a horrid creature of need and hate, too clever for his own good but all became worse as you were not near. He stopped attending school, he had already known everything they could have taught them and more. So his parents sold him off and that's how he found himself the messenger of hell itself.

He grew up fighting demons and devils-spawn, tussling in flames and charming those to fall from the world above. He stalked and schemed for his masters, served them as his bones were broken, skin bruised in permanent shades of purple and blue.

He struggled to find sleep amongst the pain, often passing out in the hallowed halls in the House of Hope only to be criticized for his lack of appearances when he awoke once more. Yet as he received more and more jobs on the mainlands, he rediscovered the sewers and lower city life he was forced to leave behind. He explored those factories you both used to infiltrate in your youth and the rooftops you would share cheese and what little bread you could find with one another.

Enver wondered often about you, the life you were living- if you had ended up living. Some part of him grew jealous- bitter that you managed to leave, to have a better family than him when you did all the same actions. He regretted sending you away, forcing you to leave him when you could have joined his suffering, maybe eased it in some way. Yet when his imagination fired of you bleeding and begging towards him, your eyes as he stood there cold and silently demanding you away. He felt what little food he received striking its way up his throat, his stomach curling into itself as he gripped at his hair.

Was this another form of torture? Enver asked himself, stumbling back into the House of Hope, his letter bag filled with various contracts as he dropped his bag on the Devils desk, falling to his knees for his hour of punishment. His mind flashes with memories of you, he feels your head on his shoulder, feels his hand in your own before screams cut through his years, settling him solid and falling forwards into the tired floors.

He hears your voice, asking for him to get up, to run with you as his hand bleeds. He can feel the various holes in himself opening up to the blades that continuously crave into his skin, sending his system into a state of shock- his head light by the pool of blood he chokes in. Your voice becomes louder, screaming, your hands reach out in the darkness that threatens to consume his sights. Your feet kick and scrape against the floor, you cough and then silence.

Silence fills Gortash's remaining days in hell, I will get out, he assured himself albeit quietly as he still wondered if the devils could read his every waking thought. He could not stand another moment of being under someone's boot, of someone speaking him into another depth of this world, of his mind, - no he would get his revenge- he would rule his future. 

[jasonisaacs]

“Hook!”

[swins94-blog]

Don't get lost

This is my first trying draw disney villain,captain hook has charming in various works, that's why I will love him.

By the way, this painting has some plot of my personal imagination:

A sad look at a friend's funeral，He still can't believe the fact that his friend is gone, which means he has one less drinking buddy.

in funeral, he said this word to his best friend:Any plain color does not suit you, and you are more compatible with red, like the Manjosa war red the earth, farewell ,my dear N.

And then,he walked off into the sunset without looking back.(end)

[lyledebeast]

Some lingering questions I have about Rosemary's Baby (2014) a week later:

Do Roman and Margaux fuck?

Are they using the Woodhouses to spice up their sex life? Is shopping/cooking/schmoozing for the Woodhouses foreplay for them?

Why aren't there 20 additional scenes showing that???

[imyourbratzdoll]

Warnings and Reminders - Please do not plagiarise, copy, repost/republish, adapt, or translate any of my work on any social media platforms, apps, or third-party sites. The only platforms I post my work on are: Tumblr and Wattpad. I do not own any character of any franchise (Marvel etc.) All my works are fiction and may be dark or triggering content: READ ALL WARNINGS BEFORE PROCEEDING.

♡ 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇 ➳ 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕 ❥ 𝒔𝒎𝒖𝒕 ❦ 𝒅𝒂𝒓𝒌

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

𝐋𝐮𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲

೫˚🖤❀ *ૢ🥀೫˚🌑

[pavus]

look, i used to be a stickler for canon and canon ages, but i honestly don't care what gortash's implied age is in-game. to me, there's no way that man isn't at least forty.

[sserpente]

The Weight of a Promise - Part II

Synopsis: One month has passed since you reluctantly became Lord Gortash's concubine. You ought to hate him--yet your heart seems to disagree.

A/N: When inspiration strikes…you gotta strike back! Took a bit longer than I expected but here we go! :D

You can read Part I here!

Words: 2523 Warnings: violence, blood, mentions of prostitution, concubine!Reader

“Good morning, dear. I take it you’ve had sweet dreams?”

You stirred, eyes flying open. You were warm, and comfortable. Cosy. Your head was resting on Gortash’s naked chest, his right arm pressing you close against his body. You had gotten so used to his presence and the intimacy between you that you didn’t even flinch away when his fingertips ghosted over your bare shoulder but instead…took relish in it.

“Morning…”

One whole month. You had been keeping an eye on the calendar on Gortash’s desk. You were surprised, to say the least. Part of you had suspected he would grow tired of you after a few days and move on to the next whore he’d be given for free. Perhaps one that would throw herself at him.

Alas, as much as you hated to admit it, you had begun to enjoy his company. Enver Gortash was as insufferable as he was megalomaniacal. But he was charming, too. No wonder the city gladly accepted him as its hero and saviour.

His mask was perfect. You very much doubted he truly did have a heart for the homeless and the poor though. Only yesterday had you overheard him talk about increasing the tax rates for small businesses for more profit to put into his Steel Watch. Now that you spent so much time with him, you would have believed his chivalry too had you not known the truth. A good man did not keep concubines, not like this. A good man did not have rumours spread about him worshipping one of the dead three.

And yet, despite everything, part of you was growing…grateful. He’d kept his promise. Thanks to him, you barely remembered what hunger was now. He had gotten you so many dresses you could never decide what to wear and every night, you shared his bed, warm and comfortable, nestled underneath his soft sheets.

The sex was phenomenal, of course. Just like the very first time he had claimed you, you would be lying if you insisted it wasn’t a pleasurable experience for you. Only it was empty, meaningless. Why else would he keep you around if not for a wet hole to fuck when he was overcome with lust?

The more time you were forced to spend with him, the more you realised that you wanted him to like you for more than your body. To know that you were more than an object for him to play with and entertain himself with and to convince yourself and your stupid feelings that he was not the villain you took him for. To soothe your own conscience.

It could be Stockholm Syndrome, you thought, chewing on your lower lip. But then again, he had told you that you were free to go the very day you arrived, made it seem like it had been your own choice to become a slave to his most carnal desires in exchange for your basic human needs to be met.

The mornings all started the same. You and Gortash had breakfast together, after that he tended to his archduke business and you remained in bed for a while longer, reading the books he owned. He’d call you over at some point, eager for your company—or your body.

As of right now, he was finished with his duties for the day. After a rich lunch, he’d insisted on taking a walk with you by the sea near Wyrm’s Rock to take his mind off things, a Steel Watcher always in close vicinity to protect him.

“You are not focusing at all, are you, dear? Could you at least put in a little bit of effort? Make it a challenge for me!”

You blinked. You’d been staring at the lance board for what must have been several minutes with your knees tucked and your chin resting between them. Gortash had insisted you played with him tonight. Only you had no idea how.

“I don’t know how to play,” you admitted.

Amusement flashed over Gortash’s handsome face. “You don’t know how to play lance board? Truly?”

You shook your head.

He took a deep breath. “Well, in that case…it is rather simple. There are six pieces in the game that—”

“Why did you increase the tax rates?” You couldn’t help it. The question left your lips before you could stop yourself. You were curious.

Gortash paused, momentary surprise marking his features. “And since when exactly, pray tell, do I discuss political matters with my concubine?”

“It’s just a question. I overheard you passing the bill.”

“You mean you were eavesdropping.”

You frowned. “You knew I was right there.”

“Ah, yes.” He chuckled. But then, nothing.

“So?”

“Protection is expensive, my dear. My Steel Watch requires constant maintenance. Maintenance that requires materials. Materials that cost money.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“Pardon me?”

“I’ve seen the documents. You have two vaults at the Counting House. Two vaults that are bulging with gold.” You’d caught a glimpse at the numbers, black ink on a fresh roll of parchment one morning while he’d made you keep his cock warm for him at his desk. You swallowed. “If you truly had the city’s best interest at heart you would be reaching into your own pockets to help out. That is true charity.”

Gortash raised an eyebrow. He appeared amused, if anything. “I am giving the citizens of Baldur’s Gate a purpose. By contributing in the form of taxes, they are contributing to keeping the city and themselves safe. And unlike my own fortunes, tax money is in constant circulation.”

You scoffed. “If that’s what you need to tell yourself.”

“I will not have you criticize my rule, my dear. Were you a lady or an adviser of mine, I could have your head for this without anyone batting an eyelash.”

Too far. You swallowed. So much for trying to convince yourself he was not a villain. “I apologise.”

“Good. Now, as I said. There are six types of pieces in the game. The first—”

Gortash was interrupted yet again. This time, however, by an airborne knife knocking the piece he pointed to straight to the ground where it shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Playing with your whore instead of working? You disappoint me, lordling.”

Gortash stiffened visibly. “Orin.”

Your eyes widened when you turned to face the unwanted visitor. She was as pale as the moon itself, with white creamy eyes piercing your soul. And her clothes…where they made of…skin? She staggered closer on bare feet, retrieving her dagger.

“You’ll find I have made much progress with our operation. But unlike you, I am a man of true entertainment. Uninterrupted murder is not up my alley.”

You blinked. Murder? What in the hells was he talking about?

“You are losing your focus, lordling. Do you need a reminder?”

Before you had processed what was happening, Orin grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled you flush against her. The smell of rotten meat and blood filled your nostrils, the blade of her dagger pressing into your skin. Her hands were ice-cold.

You gasped for air, paralysed. You willed your legs to kick her, your fingers to scratch her, your head to shatter her chin…but your body did not obey. Fear wrapped its icy claws around you, preventing you from taking action.

One wrong movement…and you would die. Your eyes found Gortash’s, yours pleading, begging. Surely, he would not let her harm you, surely, he would care if you lived after having shared the bed with him so many times…

“Now don’t be ridiculous, Orin. She’s my concubine. The only thing you will accomplish by killing her is making a mess of my office. I can always get a new one at the snap of my fingers.”

Your face fell, heart skipping several beats in a row. Not because of your fear now—but because it broke. Your lips parted. Was that truly how he felt after you’d spread your legs for him, listened to his sorrows, and kept him company? He’d promised to treat you well. Discarding you to the first bloodthirsty killer—whoever this Orin was—would break that promise after all.

“Well…then you won’t mind if I slit her throat? Bathe in her sweet blood and feast on her intestines? Would you still like to fuck her then, lordling?”

For just a second, you believed to catch a glimpse of actual panic glistening in his dark eyes. It was a fleeting moment, quickly replaced by a mask of steel.

“Orin, no, stop it!”

The woman laughed, the stench of stale blood almost making you gag as she pressed the blade even further against your delicate skin until you could feel a slight burn and something warm and sticky running down your throat.

“Orin!” You had not imagined it. There was panic swinging in his voice too now.

With a start, she removed her dagger from your throat and pushed you. You landed on your hands and knees on the hard stone floor, a pained cry escaping your lips due to the impact.

“With Ketheric Thorm dead, you should be on your guard, lordling. Because right now, your little plan is falling apart. And I am so very eager to spill blood in your chambers.”

“Control yourself, Orin. Ketheric’s death is a temporary setback. Once the Netherstone is back in our possession, we have nothing to fear and everything will go according to plan.”

You felt pathetic, cowering on the cold floor and listening to the conversation. You only understood half of what they were saying. Netherstones? What plan? And who was Ketheric Thorm?

“I will gut you if not, Gortash.” She disappeared in a mist of black and red as if her flesh erupted into a million pieces before evaporating.

Only now did you realise how heavily you were breathing. Gortash bent down, one of his hands resting on your shoulder.

“Are you alright?”

“No! No, I’m not alright!” you exclaimed, biting back a sob.

“You would have let her kill me!”

“I would not.”

“Yes! That’s what you said!” Another sob, one you were unable to hold back. You were trembling. You could feel a small trickle of blood running down your cleavage right between your breasts.

Gortash grabbed a hold of your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Showing her I care for you would have been showing her weakness and that I cannot afford. I apologise you were caught between the lines.”

Care.

“How am I supposed to believe that? Am I not a means to an end? You keep acting like I should be grateful you took me in and gave me a roof over my head in exchange for sex and now I almost…” You did not dare finish the thought. Died.

“You stupid girl. Do you truly think I would keep just any woman around my private quarters where I conduct important city business? Do you think I would share my private bed with just any prostitute?”

“I…I…” You hesitated. He was not wrong.

“I am not the kind of man to pursue, my dear. I learned the hard way you simply have to take what you want in life. I liked you. So I had you brought here.”

“Why didn’t you just say so? Why must everything you do be a power trip?”

“A power trip? Exercising dominance is crucial to survive in this world. I want you here, by my side. Is that not enough? What else do you want me to tell you?”

He helped you up, retrieving a cloth from the cupboard next to a wash bowl. The gentleness with which he wiped at your throat and your chest to clean the blood off of you surprised you so much yet another sob escaped you.

“I…I want you to tell me…you care about me? I’m not just a whore you can easily replace?”

“I don’t want any of the other whores. I wanted you. And I still do. I have no reason to lie to you, my dear. And you care about me too. I can see it in your eyes. You like the things we do together. Am I right?”

You nodded, unable to utter words for a moment.

“I hate myself for it.”

“Oh? And why is that, my dear?”

“You’re not a good person, Gortash. I can see that. I can feel it with every fibre of my being.”

“But…?”

“But…”

He threw the cloth away and cupped your face, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I wouldn’t have stayed if I didn’t…”

He smirked. He understood.

“I will have some servants fetched to run you a hot bath. I have some business to attend to. Then I will join you.”

“Gortash?”

“No.” He lifted a hand, a thoughtful expression decorating his handsome features for a moment. “I want you to call me by my first name when we’re in private. Enver.”

You frowned, lips parting in shock. The archduke of Baldur’s Gate wanted you to…call him by his first name?

“Enver.” You tasted the name on your tongue. It felt strange and yet…oddly familiar.

“That’s better.”

“Who is Orin? And don’t even think about telling me it doesn’t concern me given she just almost killed me.”

Gortash sighed. “She is…the Chosen of Bhaal, the god of murder and a reluctant ally of mine.”

Your eyes widened, shock rippling through you. Bhaal? The god of murder? One of the dead three?

“And who is…was…Ketheric Thorm?”

“The Chosen of Myrkul, a general who ruled over the Shadow Cursed Lands. Another reluctant ally.” Myrkul. He too was one of the dead three. The rumours you had heard about Gortash… Could that possibly mean…

“Go-…Enver…what deity do you worship?”

He smiled at you wickedly. “You have a sharp mind indeed, my dear. You might just be able to best me in a game of lance board in time.”

“Tell me what deity you worship.”

“You already know, do you not? You have asked me before, when we first met. And I am indeed, my dear, the Chosen of Bane. I will lead this city to glory.”

You took a step back, shock spreading in your veins like spiked vines. “What is this plan? What are the Netherstones?”

“That’s enough questions for now. Go and rest. The servants will be with you shortly.” He strode off, yet before he wrapped his hands around the doorknob, he turned his head and said, “Let me say it again: You belong by my side now, my dear. You have my protection. You have nothing to fear from me—or Orin, I will make sure of that. You might not agree with my methods but you cannot fight your own heart. You can trust me.”

With that, he was gone. Another promise. One that the growing butterflies in your stomach hoped he would never break. You belong by my side now, my dear.

You could leave, he had said a month ago. You should leave. Instead, you found yourself heading over to the wooden tub get rid of your now bloody dress.

[just-a-sleepy-idiot]

Dr Heinrich Volmer Imagine: Him taking a liking in you

Content/Warnings: Major Spoilers, Female!Reader, Virgin!Reader, Age gap, Reader having a wet dream, Somnoph1lia so Dub-con, Fingering, Slightly innocence kink, Reader is of a noble blood line, No Hannah in this version

You were the newest addition to the hospital, and when he first gazed upon you in the hallway he thought you must be visiting. You were a young woman, no, a Lady. Something about the way you looked around and spoke so softly reminded him of the nobles during his times without the stiffness and superficial elegance.

One might think that you were normal, a tad bit too young to be coming here, but otherwise normal. He couldn't disagree more. Maybe that should have been his first sign that you were destined to cross his path.

He chose to introduce himself to you directly, politely asking who you were visiting all the way up here. You smiled gently, with an unfounded kindness that pierced him as you returned his gaze.

You told him that you were send here because you felt unwell and that you were send here by your relatives to recover. His smile froze for a second, the thought of seeing that young, pretty face of you decay in the way all of his patients ended up.. was displeasing.

You introduced yourself as well to him now and if only he had known that the sound of your name would haunt him for days to come.

Every time he looked through patient lists from then on his eyes would always dart towards your name without his intent, lingering there and feeling tempted to mouth the syllables.

It was taunting to feel this way, especially since he was incredibly aware of your progressing infection. Every treatment, every glass of water you were handed guided you further towards death.

Especially when he would see you in the hallways afterwards, passing each other by accident when he paused to ask about your wellbeing, knowing very well how you must be feeling at this day and rate.

You were touched by his concern, because he clearly didn't just briefly check in with you. He insisted you'd tell him your full state of mind and how you've been settling in so far. Suggesting you'd take a seat and take your time filling him in on all the details he guided you to a more secluded bench outside in the sun.

He marveled at the way you closed your eyes and bathed in the sun, stretching yourself towards the light like a flower.

You told him about how you were feeling a little unstable health wise, but that you were glad to be here and thankful to be taken care of. You praised him for repurposing this beautiful place to help others and gently put a hand on his arm before retrieving it with a hint of youthful embarrassment at the touch. He was enamored and mortified at the same time. He couldn't let you decay like this.

It was the same day when he asked the staff to take you to his office and welcomed you with much more delight than he would have wanted. He gifted you a bottle with 'Vitamins', saying that you should regularly take a drop in order to get the optimal health results.

You thanked him for his gift and expressed that you were surprised but moved that he went out of his way to make sure you were well.

"But.. even when I do start to feel better, I wouldn't want to miss our conversations. I enjoy talking to you Doctor Volmer.."

You blushed, visibly conflicted with want and shame over your behavior. It made his heart beat faster. You.. you were something special. You made him inhale deeply, feeling his eyes flutter as he tried to contain his desire to close the remaining distance and taste your lips with his.

"I have made a decision. From now on I will assign myself to personally take care of your needs. If you have any issues, or no issues at all please feel free to approach me."

You widened your eyes and looked up at him with that innocence and wonder, it drove him absolutely crazy.

"You.. would do that? For me? I.. cannot thank you enough!"

He smiled mildly and observed you for a moment, not bothering to say anything as he just looked at you.

"Of course. Now, I held off your sleeping schedule long enough. Please go to bed and rest."

That night he assigned his staff to research about you. To find out your origins. Because something told him that you might be an equal, a pure being in a world full of superficial ambitions and chaos.

After he dedicated himself to being your personal Doctor he didn't miss upon any opportunity to come closer to you. He always asked to be let alone with you the moment you requested a check up of any sort. You took the vitamins but to not make it suspicious you were still exposed to the hydro therapy. That significantly slowed down the sickness but it didn't fully protect you from it either, so you did need some assistance at times.

Doctor Volmer subtly used these times alone with you to ask you about yourself. One time he couldn't help himself and used your stomach ache to ask you if you had any sexual partners in the last time. You blushed and adverted your gaze, saying no you didn't. He lifted his gaze in return to look at you, for a moment you were silent before you explained that you were a virgin.

The smallest smile briefly graced his lips, his eyes lighting up for a moment. He paused in his breath involuntarily as well for a moment. Oh how.. delightful, how delicious that made the images that passed through his mind now and then.

He had imagined your reaction if he were to abuse your trust in him and to just touch you during his examinations. How flustered you'd get, asking him what he was doing only for him to reassure you that it was all part of the treatment. You would moan and quiver and you wouldn't know what was happening to you..

The fact that you were a virgin only made it better. Oh how much he would like to spread those legs and delve in between them to taste that innocence himself..

He assured you that there was no need to be ashamed, and that you would surely cherish the moment even more since you waited. He knew he sounded like he was berating you since he was much older than you, but the truth was that was thinking of himself as your first time. It was more like was trying to comfort you for what he hoped was to come.

Doctor Volmer didn't make any plans on seducing you, he didn't even plan on sparing you from his treatment yet he couldn't help but.. delay it. Because he was conflicted and frankly he didn't know what to do with you.

You confused him, you captured him and if you didn't have such a clear reaction to him he would think that you'd think him too old for a young Lady such as yourself. But clearly you weren't averse to him as well.

These conflicting thoughts and feelings were resolved though, when his staff reported on your heritage as he instructed them to do. And his feeling turned out to be right.. you were pure after all. You were the last member of a fellow noble family that used to be close to his.

You were.. perfect. You were perfect even genetically.

He had to have you.

Of course he couldn't go and tell you the news, as much as he wanted to. But he couldn't help but pay you a visit anyways. You would be sleeping by now but.. he needed to see you. He would officially start courting you now.

He didn't knock before coming into your room. He spotted your sleeping form on the bed fast asleep, yet there was something that seemed to disturb your sleep even before he stepped in.

Volmer stepped closer with a frown as he saw your distressed face, your chest rising quickly with heavy breaths leaving your lips. Should he wake you? He was about to release you from what seemed to be a bad dream when a soft moan erupted from you. It was quiet but he couldn't unhear it.

The man took a seat on your bed and curiously looked down upon you, questioning wether he interpreted that moan right. Another sigh came from you, so yearning that it tied him in. Caught his breath in excitement when he realized what was going on.

You were having a sexual dream..

"Mh.. Doctor.. Doctor Vol..mer.."

He wet his lips, his piercing blue eyes filling with a newfound possessiveness. You were dreaming about him! You were desiring him, in more ways than he initially expected. What did you imagine he was doing to you?

His eyes trailed down to your nightgown before his fingers slightly grazed over your breasts. It made you quiver a little but you arched your back a little as if leaning into the sensation. That made him chuckle darkly. Oh Darling.. you were so starved for this kind of touch, you were so responsive right away.

He gently groped your breast before rubbing your nipple over the fabric of your nightgown, feeling them becoming hard. If it wouldn't wake you up he would rip it apart to look at all of you. He growled in frustration at the discipline he had to hold up right now to not to exactly that.

He pushed your blanket aside and placed his hand on your leg now, slowly pushing up the nightgown over your thighs. Your skin was soft and warm. He reached further under the hem now to come in contact with your clothed crotch. You shook a little, his eyes shooting up but seeing that you haven't woken up yet. He used two fingers to slide through your clothed folds, feeling you up and registering that you were already a bit wet from your dream. He smirked.

Volmer then pushed his hand under your panties and almost groaned when he felt how soft and warm and wet you were.. you were so inviting that he felt himself becoming aroused. He briefly closed his eyes before feeling you up before he found what he was looking for.

He gently stroked over your clit, earning another moan from you as you pushed your head to the side with a frown. He couldn't help but chuckle again, enjoying your reactions so much already.. he then continued to circle your bud and gently pushing against it. It made your legs quiver.

But what he was incredibly tempted to do.. what he was so curious about was what he aimed for next. Your entrance. You were a virgin so he might not come far.. but oh to be the first to do this to you..

Volmer pushed in two fingers and immediately felt your walls tightening around you. It made his own arousal grow visibly as he imagined himself inside of you like that. God.. how much he just wanted to climb on top of you and take you right there. Hiking your legs up and sinking himself into you.

You moaned so softly, full of such innocence that made it even better. You didn't know this feeling yet you didn't want what you thought to be a dream to end.

He started pushing his thick fingers into you before retreating slightly and building up a rhythm in which he pushed himself in and out of you again.

Your breath picked up and he hungrily watched your reaction before-

"Ah! M..hh what.."

You woke up, but he didn't bother to stop, drinking in your facial expression as your gaze fell down and you witnessed him fucking his fingers into you.

You were shocked but that couldn't stop your arousal as your gaze darted back to him with the biggest blush he had yet seen on your face.

"D-Doctor Volmer what.. are you doing?"

He smirked and started touching your clit simultaneously, making your eyes widen as your lips quivered trying to withhold a sweet moan that escaped anyways.

"I came to check on you but you were dreaming.. and I know you were dreaming of me so I decided to make it come true Darling."

The petname flustered you and your eyes fluttered as you were both so shocked yet taken away by this overwhelming feeling.

"B-But.."

He enjoyed himself so much, seeing you stutter and making a little effort to cover yourself even though he was pounding his fingers into your pussy. So cute.

"Just let me take care of you hmm?" He hummed and climbed over you, fingers not leaving their place or stopping in their tracks as he attacked your neck with kisses. He felt you clenching around him and groaned against your skin before gently biting your shoulder once, quickly returning to kisses as he trailed down your neck.

"D-Doctor Volmer.." He hummed darkly and groped your breast with his free hand, "Yes.. say my name.. what is it Dearie?"

"I feel like.. I'm.."

He knew what you were going to say regardless of your incapability to finish your sentence. So he pounded into you more heavily, taunting your oncoming release with the way he circled over your clit.

Your legs spread involuntarily, much to his delight, and you grabbed onto his shirt when you felt your orgasm wash over you. You buried your head in his shoulder when you came undone and released the sweetest moan into his ear.

He smiled as he drew back to look at you, retreating his hands from your body, but not without gently trailing over your waist and thigh.

"You feel amazing love."

You looked up at him with the upmost embarrassment and swallowed hard. That was when your eyes fell downwards, noticing an equally hard thing in his pants.

"Don't worry about that. We'll take time before I will do this to you." He spoke with a certainty, as if he was absolutely sure that this was going to take place.

He picked up your hand and kissed the back of it as he climbed off you. You sat up at the same time and watched in awe as his blue eyes captivated you.

"I'll leave you be now. We will see each other tomorrow."

With that he shot you a last look before straightening his jacket and leaving the room...

What was going to happen with you? And was going to happen between you two?

To be continued? Comment if you liked it!! (;-;)

[haldirs-melda]

‘Did you fuck him? Severus.’ Regaining composure, he spoke dangerously quietly, ‘I will know if you’re lying. You look so pathetic when you lie.’

The jealousy is dripping from Lucius! Chapter 21 now uploaded to Ruby Red.

WATTPAD

AO3

[madhatterbri]

Welcome Home | L.M.

GIF not mine.

Summary: An (OC) Weasley has a child with Lucius. She comes back to the wizarding world much to Arthur's dismay.

"This isn't smart. He will know you are back, Isobel, if he doesn't know it already," Arthur Weasley hissed at his younger sister. The siblings were currently fighting in her home. The warm welcoming dinner he had at his home was a sharp different than the current mood. Her older brother was worried for her safety. He had every right to be. The witch was playing with fire and was going to get burned the longer she stayed.

He peered out the window cautiously. Two witches walked past the window chatting about the various events happening in the wizarding world. Otherwise, the sidewalk was empty as normal. Arthur sighed and checked down the sidewalk once more. Not a single soul appeared. He closed the curtains roughly. "And Finn looks exactly like that awful son of his except for the red hair. There is no doubt he could easily spot him tomorrow while they are getting their school supplies."

"Can't ever get rid of that red hair," Isobel joked and ran her fingers through her hair. She was proud her son did not have blonde-white hair. The way Arthur glared at her made her realize he was not joking with her. She cleared her throat. "It's going to be fine. He hasn't seen me yet. More importantly, his wife and the other Blacks haven't seen me yet. Finn will go to Hogwarts and he'll be protected,"

Despite her brother's fears, she was happy to be home. Finn, her eleven-year-old son, deserved to be with his family. He had many cousins that he was just being able to hang out with. She always felt safe at Hogwarts. Finn would no doubt be safe under the protection of the Headmaster Albus Dumbledore. Isobel was a skilled witch. She could take care of herself.

"You think this is the time for a laugh? He has power in the Ministry. Some would say he has power over the Minister himself. One wrong move and he will trump up charges to send you to Azkaban without so much as a trial," he warned. "And that boy of yours will be raised by the Malfoys. I refuse to ever let my nephew be raised by such vile people just because my sister isn't thinking,"

Isobel rubbed her fingers on her temples. He was giving her a headache. There was no way he would allow her to be thrown in Azkaban. Arthur was always protective and that clouded his thinking especially when it came to Isobel.

"I think you are over exaggerating just a little. We are going to meet Gilderoy Lockhart at Flourish and Blotts, get school supplies for the kids, and go home," she assured him. Isobel walked to her fireplace. Soft taps on the top of the fireplace signaled it was time for him to go home. Arthur followed behind her. "Go home. Be with your wife, your kids, and your nephew. I'll see you tomorrow. Please tell my son I love him,"

"I know I can't talk some sense into you. You have always been so stubborn," he sighed in defeat. "Luckily, I am going to be there as well,"

"Nothing can hurt me with you there, brother. Have a good night," she bid him farewell and hugged him. He grabbed powder from a jar at the side of the fireplace and stepped into the fireplace. A long frown appeared on his face. Worry and fear of what was going to come evident in his face. Nothing good ever came from crossing the Malfoys. He announced his home and he was suddenly engulfed in green flames. Once the green flames died down, he was gone.

The next morning was a rush for Isobel. She woke up late, like usual, and had to rush to get to Diagon Alley. Her family must have been waiting for her by now. Upon getting ready, she stepped into the fireplace and called out Diagon Alley. The floo transportation was the best way to travel. The speed of getting from one place to another was unmatched except for apparition. Once she arrived in Diagon Alley, she quickly found her family. They were practically the only group of redheads around.

The late woman walked into Flourish and Blotts. She saw her nephews, Fred and George, along with her son waiting around the corner. The three of them couldn't care less about the likes of Gilderoy Lockhart. They were looking into a book.

"Finally, mum. I told them I should have gone to the house to make sure you were awake," Finn smiled and hugged her. Isobel rolled her eyes and kissed the top of his head.

"Hey, Fred, where is your dad? I feel like if I don't meet up with him in the next ten minutes he is going to kill me,"

"He is not Fred, I am," the other twin, Fred, spoke while looking up from the book.

"Honestly woman you call yourself our aunt," George tutted.

"I'm sorry, but your father, where is he?" She asked more urgently. The twins pointed to her brother talking to a man and woman. Isobel excused herself and made her way through the crowd to meet with her brother. Several of the members of the crowd didn't want to move for her. They felt like she was skipping to see Lockhart quicker. Finally, she started pushing past people and apologizing after. Once she made it to Arthur, he introduced her to the parents of one of his son's friends.

The friend's parents were charming. Arthur, of course, led the conversation with witty jokes about the wizarding world. Her heart swelled at seeing two muggles love their child enough to learn about their world. There were many parents before that would disown them. An uneasy feeling suddenly took hold of her like she was being watched. Out of the corner of her eye, a tall man with white-blonde hair could be seen. A slight panic coarsed through her body. Finn was across the shop with his cousins. The two were so close and she silently prayed that Lucius wouldn't recognize his other son. Her heart started to race and her face grew red. There was no way she could have been foolish enough to not bring Finn with her.

Arthur looked at Isobel. She seemed to have stopped engaging in conversation with them. Her outward appearance showed of someone that was panicking. He observed Lucius and his family speaking at the entrance. He excused himself from the others and made his way towards them. It was his duty to protect his children and nephew from that evil man.

After what felt like an eternity, Lucis left the store along with the copycat version of his son. Her heart rate started to come back down. She excused herself from the crowd and walked to her family.

"Percy, Fred, George, take Finn to get his school supplies. Let me know if anything comes up," he instructed. "Once you have finished meet me back at the Burrow,"

The four boys took off talking about the showdown that just went on with Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy.

"Arthur, I-"

"Go home, Isobel. We will talk later," he instructed her.

Isobel walked away from her family quickly. There was no more argument coming out of her. Her brother was right. She should have never ventured out where Lucius could be. Tears pricked her eyes. He would surely take their son away. Suddenly, a rough hand grabbed her arm and moved her towards a brick wall in a dark alley. Her back pressed against the wall. A cold, silver snake head pressed against the bottom of her chin. Her head slowly raised to meet the eyes of one Lucius Malfoy. His gaze had an evil glint like a predator would their prey.

"So the rumors are true," he spoke. His other hand caressed her cheek. "You have come back,"