#i always imagined i would have a wander-filled life not staying in one place too long and seeing the world

[mixtape-racha]

paper rings | bang chan

waking up in australia next to your fiance was better than you ever could have imagined // 18+, minors dni

words: 1.32k // warnings: established relationship, engagement and marriage, reference to trying for a baby, soft dom!chan, sub!fem!reader, slapping (once), unprotected sex

a/n: yeah icl i tried to wrap this up asap because i had no motivation to finish it anymore LMFAOOOO

with the six am sun fluttering through the blinds of the beach house you were staying in, the warmth radiating off of your skin, and your fiance’s chest pressed against your bare back, you truly felt like you were in heaven. it had been approximately 10 hours since chris got down on one knee outside the beautiful sea-front restaurant you were eating at, and you were convinced the smile hadn't left your face since.

feeling him shift behind you, you carefully rolled over to face him, eyes carefully tracing every inch of his face. you truly could look at him forever. “you’re staring again, baby.” he mumbled, eyes blearily opening as he gave you a smile. you shrugged lightly, reaching up to brush his hair out of his face. “can’t help it. you’re so pretty, channie. can’t believe i get to marry you.” at your admission, the tips of his ears flushed red. “oh yeah? well, i can’t believe you want to marry me. you’re so gorgeous, sweetheart. n’all mine, too.”

it may have been the way the sun bounced off his skin, each freckle reflected back to you, or it may have been the overwhelming realization that you were going to spend the rest of your life with him, but you couldn’t help but lean in and plant your lips gently on chan’s. he kissed you back with equal tenderness, his tongue darting across your lower lip, ever so kindly asking for permission to go further.

and of course, you accepted. only a fool wouldn’t allow chris to have his way with them. all you wanted was to stay in this moment, wrapped in his arms forever, craving him always but never quite satisfied. a calloused hand pulled your hips flush against his, no inch of your bodies untouching, as he nipped at your lips, wrapping his other hand through your hair, never quite close enough to you.

a gentle sigh left your lips as he trailed kisses down your jaw, leaving his mark across your throat, and your hands wandered lower to finally give him some of the relief he’d been craving. the heat radiating from your core and turn in your stomach was enough to allow you to move without thinking, chris was already straining against his boxers - the stretch making the material feel so much thinner than it already was. his fingers gently palmed at your core over your panties, your brows furrowed, lower lip caught under your teeth as you tried to suppress a groan.

“you can be noisy, baby, no one’s gonna hear us,” his hand slipped under your underwear, the warmth of your slick across his fingers making him throb. slowly, you slipped your hand below his waistband and began stroking him, thumb paying extra attention to the sensitive head. he breathed a shaky moan into the crook of your neck, other rubbing circles into your hips.

you bucked your hips into his palm, needing more friction than he was currently willing to give you, eliciting a chuckle from him. “more baby? oh, you’re so needy. lucky i don’t make you work for it more.”

in one swift motion, he’d flipped you onto my front, kneeling behind you and running his pretty hands across the expanse of your ass. god damn his obsession with your ass when the place you needed him most was merely inches further forward. “gonna fuck you so good, baby girl. fill you up with my cum, yeah?” the moan you let out at his words was almost embarrassing, but you both knew your ever-present breeding kink would come in handy with the prospect of starting a family.

“please, channie. need it so bad, need you to fuck me so full,” you whimpered, hips pushing back to graze against his boner. “you wouldn’t deny your wife-to-be that, would you?” and if his reaction hadn’t been just what you needed you may have regretted trying to rile him up like that. instead, a large hand came down swiftly on your ass cheek, the blunt force of it forcing you forwards, nearly losing your balance and going face-first into the pillow.

the moan that left you lips was exquisite in chan’s mind, his body moving without much meaning, and ripping your panties down you legs to expose your glistening cunt. taking a breath to compose himself, chan’s demeanor once again changed, the sweet, caring man he was when you made love - rather than just an amazing fuck - reappearing. 

his palms spread your ass, and you could almost feel the way he was looking at your core with such hunger. “god, you’re so perfect. my perfect girl. gonna ruin you soon, but first i need a taste of that gorgeous cunt.”

“no, no chris please. need you inside me right now or i’m gonna go fucking crazy. please, baby, you stretch me out so good i need it.” you whined, words slurring at the amount of want in your voice.

you heard him groan behind you, the kind of groan he only let out when your words affected him much more than he wanted to admit, and you felt him crawling back up the bed. you turned yourself back to face him, absolutely enamored with the way his eyes were looking at you so softly, and heart leaping as he scooped you into his arms.

“my pretty baby, you just wanna be stuffed full, huh? wanna let me hear those pretty moans and watch as you fall apart on my cock?”

you keened, planting wet kisses across his throat. “please, channie. need it so bad.”

unable to hold back any longer, chan spread your legs, running his fingers through your folds. god, you were soaking. he’d be surprised if you weren’t dripping so much we stained the sheets below you.

groaning softly to himself, he pulled your chest closer to his, hiking one of your legs over his hip. this was undeniably your favourite position to fuck in - it was so comfortable, and so intimate that nothing could compare to it when you needed chan to be soft, and slow, and sweet.

he teased his length along your folds, tip catching your clit and causing you both to let out a gasp into each other's mouths, tongues moving lazily against one another. you rolled your hips gently, testing the waters of chan’s patience, before he bit down lightly on your jaw, tongue licking over the mark as soon as he released the skin from his hold.

“please, channie… need you inside, no teasing.” you whined, eyes rolling back as he gave in and pushed his length into your core.

you both took a moment to catch your breath as he bottomed out, the feeling of being full making you feel both so relieved and so at home. its not like you didn’t have a healthy and fulfilling sex life with chan - because you did - but everything he did got you so worked up and desperate it was almost like you needed him to be inside you to function.

pulling you in for a scorching kiss, chan rolling his hips gently, the tip of hs cock kissing that gooey spot inside you just right. you moaned into his mouth, back arching ever so slightly, pushing your chest further into his.

the feeling of his hands on your skin, tongue in your mouth and cock buried inside you was almost too much to bear.

“please move, baby. just wanna make you feel good.” you whispered, one hand grasping chan’s back while the other wrapped itself in his dark curls.

of course, he complied instantly. he’d do anything for you. rocking his hips gently, he connected your lips again, hand rubbing soft circles into your hip.

as he pressed kisses down your neck and to your chest, you caught a gleam of light hitting the stone in your newest ring, and a grin crossed your face.

you’d never been happier.

taglist: join taglist here @pretty-racha @chubbyanarkiss @downtherabbithole01-blog @amara-mars @demetrisscarf @mits-vi

[nickeverdeen]

Could I request an imagine for Nimona with a teen!fem!reader who's Ambrosius' younger sister and looks like Gloreth? Could be platonic or romantic, idc

Despite her heritage, Reader has always felt odd and out of place compared to everyone else, and feels a lot of pressure put on her as the descendant of Gloreth. So she often runs away from the loud parts of the city in order to get away from everything, and one day she meets Nimona.

Reader doesn't feel threatened by Nim at all, in fact, she thinks being a shapeshifter is awesome and cool. Even when other people find out about Nim and tell Reader she's a monster, Reader constantly stays by her side, completely willing to fight for her if that's what it takes.

Thanks

Nimona with a teen!fem!reader who's Ambrosius' younger sister and looks like Gloreth

Warnings: None (I think?)

I’m in advance sorry that it’s not long and slightly short and I really am sorry

———————————————————

The city bustled with life, its streets filled with the echo of laughter, chatter, and the clang of swords from the training grounds. To anyone else, this might have seemed like a vibrant, welcoming place. But for the young girl with Gloreth’s golden hair and Ambrosius’s steel-blue eyes, it often felt suffocating.

You carried a lineage that set you apart from your peers. Being Ambrosius’s younger sister came with its own set of challenges, but it was being Gloreth’s descendant that weighed on you the most. The legacy, the expectations—it all felt like too much sometimes.

On days when the pressure grew unbearable, you would slip away from the academy and head to your secret spot. It was a quiet hill just outside the city, where you could see the horizon stretch far beyond the walls that held you in. It was your sanctuary, a place where you could breathe without the weight of your lineage and expectations pressing down on you.

Today was one of those days. You climbed the familiar path to your hill, feeling the cool breeze brush against your skin. You sat down, drawing your knees to your chest, and let your mind wander.

You were lost in thought when you heard footsteps behind you. Turning quickly, your hand instinctively reaching for the small dagger you kept at your waist, you saw a figure approaching. It was a girl, not much older than yourself, with bright pink hair and a mischievous glint in her eyes.

“Who are you?” You asked, your voice steady despite the surprise

The girl grinned, a wild, almost feral smile that seemed to light up her entire face. “Nimona. And you must be Y/N, Ambrosius’s sister.”

Your hand tightened on your dagger. “How do you know who I am?”

“Oh, everyone knows who you are,” Nimona replied with a casual wave of her hand. “Gloreth’s descendant, the girl with the golden hair. You’re kind of a big deal, you know?”

You sighed, the weight of that statement sinking into you. “Yeah, I know.”

Nimona plopped down beside you, uninvited but not unwelcome. “So, what’s a big deal like you doing all the way out here?”

“Trying to get away from being a big deal,” you admitted, surprising yourself with the honesty in your voice. There was something about Nimona that felt…different. Safe, in a way that you couldn’t quite explain.

Nimona looked at you thoughtfully, her eyes sharp and knowing. “Oh yeah, you gotta reach everyone’s expactations, right? I bet it sucks.”

You turned to look at Nimona, really look at her. There was an energy about her, something wild and untamed, but also a sense of understanding. “You sound like you speak from experience.”

Nimona laughed, a short, sharp sound. “You could say that. I’m kind of a big deal too, in my own way.”

You sat in silence for a while, watching the sun dip lower in the sky. You felt a strange sense of calm wash over you, as if being with Nimona made everything a little bit easier to bear.

“Do you ever feel like you don’t belong?” You asked quietly. Nimona’s smile softened, but it wasn’t sad. “All the time. But I’ve learned to make my own way of coping. You can too”

You looked at Nimona, your heart feeling lighter than it had in a long time. “Maybe you can help me figure out how” Nimona’s eyes sparkled with mischief once more. “Oh, we’ll see what I can do with ya”

As the sun set, casting long shadows over the hill, you both said your goodbye and made your way back home. You felt a sense of hope you hadn’t felt in years. You don’t know what the future held, but with Nimona by your side, you were slightly more ready to face it.

Months passed, and the quiet hill outside the city became more than just a meeting place for you and Nimona - it became a sanctuary where you forged an unlikely friendship. Nimona would show up at odd hours, sometimes with new scars or stories of her latest escapades, and you would listen with rapt attention.

No one knew about Nimona. You kept your meetings a secret, not wanting the attention or the questions that would inevitably come if anyone found out about your mysterious friend with the wild pink hair. It was a risk you weren’t willing to take, not when the hill was the only place where you felt truly free.

But secrets have a way of unraveling, especially when you least expect it.

One evening, as you were preparing to sneak out to meet Nimona after family dinner, Ambrosius caught you by the arm just as you were slipping out the door. His brow furrowed with concern and suspicion.

“Where are you going?” he asked, his voice low and steady. You hesitated for a moment, your mind racing for an excuse. “Just for a walk,” you replied casually and mentally slapped yourself for chosing the most classic excuse, hoping he wouldn’t press further.

Ambrosius’s eyes narrowed. “You’ve been going out a lot lately. Is there something you’re not telling me? If it’s about a boy or a girl you can tell me”

You felt a knot form in your stomach, but you forced yourself to meet his gaze head-on. “I’m fine, Ambrosius. Just…needing some fresh air.”

Ambrosius studied you for a moment longer, his expression unreadable. You held your breath, waiting for him to push the issue further. But after what felt like an eternity, he sighed and released your arm.

“Alright,” he said finally, his voice softening slightly. “Just…be careful, okay?”

You nodded, relief flooding through you. “I will.”

As you slipped away into the cool night air, you hurried to the hill where Nimona was already waiting, her pink hair glowing faintly in the moonlight. You couldn’t help but feel a twinge of guilt for not telling your brother the truth, but you pushed it aside as Nimona greeted you with a mischievous grin.

“Hey there, big deal,” Nimona teased, using the nickname she had given you early on

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Don’t start”

Nimona chuckled, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—a hint of sadness, maybe, or regret. You noticed it, but before you could say anything, Nimona was already launching into a story about her latest encounter with the city guards.

You spent hours together, talking and laughing under the stars. But as you were about to part ways, Nimona made a small slip-up—a mention of Gloreth that caught you off guard.

“Wait,” you interrupted, your brow furrowing in confusion. “How do you know so much about Gloreth’s personal life as a kid?”

Nimona’s smile faltered for just a moment, but then she shrugged nonchalantly. “Oh, you know. Rumors and legends. Everyone’s heard of Gloreth.”

You weren’t convinced, but Nimona quickly changed the subject, and you let it go for the night. You didn’t want to push Nimona away with too many questions, not when your friendship meant so much to both of you.

As you walked back to the academy that night, you couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Nimona than met the eye. But for now, you decided to trust Nimona’s words and focus on the bond you were building — one secret meeting at a time.

As Nimona waited at your usual meeting spot, her thoughts drifted to the times she and you had shared stories, laughter, and secrets under the quiet night sky. It had become a routine she cherished, a rare moment of connection in a world that often felt indifferent to her.

Tonight was no different — or so she thought.

Lost in her thoughts, Nimona didn’t notice the approach of you until a sudden movement behind her made her jump. Instinctively, she shifted into the form of a sleek black cat, her heart pounding in her chest. But as she turned around, ready to explain herself, she found you standing there, wide-eyed but not afraid.

The cat’s form shimmered and Nimona returned to her usual self, her pink hair slightly disheveled from the transformation. She took a hesitant step back, expecting you to recoil in fear or shock, just like everyone else did when they saw her powers in action “Sorry… I didn’t mean to-“

Instead, your face lit up with awe and excitement as you cut her off. “That was amazing!” You exclaimed, unable to contain your enthusiasm and suprise. “You can turn into animals? That’s so cool!”

Nimona blinked, taken aback by your reaction. “You’re not… scared?” she asked cautiously.

You shook your head, a smile spreading across your face. “Why would I be scared? It’s incredible! Can you turn into anything else?”

A wave of relief washed over Nimona as she realized you weren’t like everyone else and that reminded her of Gloreth for a second. You weren’t afraid of Nimona’s abilities; you were fascinated by them. “Yeah,” Nimona replied, her voice tinged with relief and a hint of excitement. “I can turn into lots of things—animals, people, you name it.”

Nimona hesitated for a moment, still cautious despite your acceptance. “You’re not going to… tell anyone, are you?” she asked, her voice softening with vulnerability.

You shook your head adamantly. “Of course not,” you reassured Nimona. “Your secret’s safe with me. Besides, who would believe me anyway?”

Nimona smiled gratefully, a weight lifting off her shoulders. For the first time in a long while, she felt truly understood and accepted.

As days turned into weeks, yours and Nimona’s bond grew stronger with each passing adventure. You reveled in your secret escapades, using Nimona’s shape-shifting abilities for mischief and exploration, always careful to keep your activities hidden from prying eyes.

One sunny afternoon, while you were playfully testing Nimona’s ability to transform into various animals, your brother, Ambrosius, stumbled upon you two. His expression darkened as he watched Nimona shift from a mischievous squirrel to a majestic hawk in the blink of an eye.

“Y/N, what’s going on here?” Ambrosius demanded, his voice tinged with concern and disapproval.

You froze, caught off guard by your brother’s sudden appearance. You glanced nervously at Nimona, who shifted back into her human form, her pink hair tousled and her eyes wide with apprehension.

“This is Nimona,” you began hesitantly, trying to gauge your brother’s reaction. “She’s my friend.”

Ambrosius frowned deeply, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive. “She’s a shape-shifter,” he stated bluntly, his voice low with suspicion. “You know the dangers—”

“But she’s not dangerous!” You interjected passionately, stepping closer to Nimona’s side taking her hand in yours. “She’s just different. And she’s my friend.”

Ambrosius’s expression softened slightly, but he remained wary. “Y/N, you can’t just trust everyone,” he cautioned, glancing around nervously as other passersby started to take notice of Nimona.

Before you could respond, a concerned citizen approached, eyeing Nimona with apprehension. “She’s one of those monsters!” the person exclaimed loudly, drawing the attention of nearby guards which gave Nimona a small flashback and scare.

Panic rippled through the crowd as rumors spread like wildfire. You felt a surge of protectiveness towards Nimona, knowing that Nimona was vulnerable in this moment of scrutiny.

Ignoring the stares and murmurs, you stood firm by Nimona’s side and gave her hand a slight squeeze, your loyalty unwavering. You locked eyes with your brother, silently pleading for understanding. “I trust her,” you stated firmly, your voice unwavering despite the tension thickening the air around you.

Ambrosius hesitated, torn between his concern for your safety and his desire to protect your happiness. “Y/N, you don’t know what its capable of,” he argued, his voice tinged with frustration.

“I do,” you insisted, your gaze never leaving Nimona’s. “I’ve seen who she is, beyond her abilities. She’s kind, she’s brave, and she’s a person not a thing.”

Nimona’s heart swelled with gratitude as she listened to you defend her. She had never known such loyalty and acceptance from anyone before, especially not from someone as important to you as your own brother.

Despite the turmoil and the whispers of fear surrounding them, you remained steadfast in your support of Nimona. You were willing to face the consequences, even if it meant risking your relationship with your brother and losing the approval of others.

As the commotion around you grew louder, you took Nimona’s hand more firmly in yours, offering silent reassurance. Together, you stood united against the tide of misunderstanding and fear, your bond strengthened by adversity and your shared belief in acceptance and friendship.

And in that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty, you both knew that your connection with each other was more than just friendship—it was a testament to the power of loyalty and prehaps something more.

[viviennevermillion]

to love, despite

notes: i know i said i'd go on hiatus but i think i might have underestimated the genshin brainrot and also the support of my readers so you have this now

word count: 2.7k

premise: when wanderer accompanies the traveler to inazuma, he didn't expect himself to fall in love, much less to get his heart broken and face his fourth betrayal. luckily, you're there to lift him up. maybe he wasn't meant to be alone after all....maybe he was just looking in the wrong places

contains: wanderer x gn!reader, wanderer goes through a breakup with unnamed npc, hurt/comfort, blossoming feelings

warnings: mentions of cheating, scara's insecurities

The sun was slowly setting, tinting the horizon in comforting and warm colors. But today, there was a hint of sadness to the end of this day and right now, to Wanderer at least, the hues of red and orange slowly turning to blues and blacks mirrored the way a time of happiness and joy was washed away with the tides of the ocean. The waves crashed against the bow of the ship as it swayed with the way of the water; staying in control of the captain despite the untamed strength of the sea. It was a comforting sound; as if the shores of his former homeland were speaking to him, telling him: “Don’t grieve what’s lost. This too will pass.”

A music box was playing a slow song behind him. He mused one of the sailors must have put it there because they liked the tune. He glanced at the small apparatus, letting out a bitter laugh when he saw the frail ballerina figurine on top of it. What cruel irony life threw his way over and over again.

He looked out onto the docks as the ship set sail; beginning its journey to Port Ormos. Back to the comfort of his new home, back to Nahida who’d sure have some wise words to try and soothe him. Words that would be ultimately met with silence as they wouldn’t reach his non-existent heart in light of the events that had transpired. He heard the sound of the seagulls above the beach and closed his eyes, listening to the workings of the water; imagining how it’d sway him gently to a place where nothing and no one could hurt him.

He never expected himself to fall in love. And especially not in the span of a couple of months. But the one he loved had been like a hurricane of flowers; filling his hair with beautiful cherry blossoms to distract him from the destructive storm that was on the horizon. His lover had been kind; at first. Kind and joyful. Like they’d wash away his sorrows as they danced among the crowd, dragging him into the masses and encouraging him to dance along. The flowery words and the colorful metaphors had blinded him to how shallow humanity was and always would be. How he’d have to expect disappointment before all else.

They had taken his hands into theirs and promised him they’d stay. That they never met anyone quite like him. He remembered the sound of their laughter as it filled the air of spring; a time that was meant for new beginnings. He really thought this was the start of something good. “You’re adorable”, they had chuckled before kissing his cheek and he had blushed, clutching the flowers they gave him in his hands. They had taken him to their favorite places on Narukami Island and he had followed with a smile on his face; pretending like he hadn’t seen them all before. Still, during those carefree days they had seemed much brighter than before. 

He remembered how he had sat with them under a big tree, watching the birds fly freely and the clouds pass by as if nothing ever mattered but what was there in the current moment. The one he loved had been like a gentle melody soothing the pain that still lingered in his mind and making him appreciate the peace and life around him. They had brought some goods they baked for him and told him they’re almost as sweet as him. They had told him they loved him. But sometimes people were  privy to love only for as long as their lover had an ideal of them in their head that they were unwilling to let go of. A fairytale dream that made the Wanderer recoil; knowing it was never truly him they loved. It was an idea of him that was shaped by their mind to fit the desires of their heart; something he’d probably never truly comprehend.

And then he told them what he was. It shouldn’t matter. “It won’t”, the Traveler and you had reassured him. So he took a fearful step towards the unknown. At first it really didn’t matter. Humans were desperate to hold onto their dreams of perfection, after all. Most would find that without their delusions; life would be hardly the happy place they’d convinced themselves of. His former lover had told him that no matter whether he was a puppet or a human; they’d still love him all the same. For he could love too, after all. But sometimes what one loves in others is not the person themselves but what they can provide for their lives. Enrichment, support, fun. And sometimes it was that and that only.

That was what he had realised when he caught them showing their affections to someone else. In that moment, it seemed as if their whole demeanor had shifted. The aura of innocence and gentleness had long since faded and he had come to realize that they were not a rare treasure that existed outside of all the things that had hurt him; they were entangled in that same net of human faults and selfishness as all the other obstacles he had faced throughout his life. As all of them ever would, he thought; his pessimism clouding his mind once more.

“I’m sorry!”, they had called out to him with tears in their eyes, “I was going to talk with you about this, but I didn’t know how!” What are you crying for?, he had wondered. As they went on and on about how they never wanted to break his heart but they didn’t fully understand what it would be like to date a puppet; what it lacked; he grew colder by the minute. What did he lack? Wasn’t this what Nahida and the Traveler had attempted to convince him of? That there was no reason to not call himself a human? That he could have the same experiences as one regardless; love the same and be loved in return. He had fallen in love; with courage and hope in his veins; but the lightning had struck him nonetheless. He remembered the words they’d told him before he left: “I really care about you. And I still treasure you as a friend. But I need someone who…”

They never finished that sentence but Wanderer knew exactly what they were going to say. Someone who is human. I get it. 

If the world was always going to reject his existence, maybe he should go back to rejecting the world in turn. Let the bitterness in his heart numb the pain. Let the anger wash away the sorrows and let the pride clouding his head blow down all that others had built in his life. You’re bigger than this now…, he reminded himself, knowing no anger or hatred would ever make his sorrow disappear. Only time and purpose and love could. 

“Hey”, you began quietly. He hadn’t even noticed you were there; standing next to him now and observing the waves, same as he did. After what had happened, he didn’t feel like spending another day in Inazuma. The Traveler still had some unfinished business here and Wanderer was ready to leave on his own when you had convinced him to follow him back to Sumeru. You never said it but he could see in your eyes how you believed he needed a shoulder to lean on right now. And if he was really, truly honest with himself….then maybe he did.

“I got you one of those little mocktails they sell next to the captain’s booth”, you handed him the drink that had been poured into an empty ajilenakh nut, “I made sure they didn’t put any dango in it.” He thanked you and drank a bit of it. It wasn’t as bad as he had expected it to, even though it was a little bit sweeter than what he’d normally drink. 

For a while, the two of you remained quiet. The constant sound of the ocean was enough to not make it awkward. “I’m sorry”, you then said quietly, “you didn’t deserve this to happen to you.” “I know”, he replied and closed his eyes, clutching his anemo vision for support over his chest where his heart should be, “but it keeps happening anyway.” 

At least for now he wasn’t completely alone. He had Nahida, the Traveler and you. Even Paimon. You were his friends. For how long will they remain your friends, though?, that bitter voice in his head spoke once more. But over the past year, he had grown more familiar and comfortable with you and he had listened to your stories about the life you led and the people you’ve met throughout it. It had made him realize that while his feelings of estrangement as a puppet were unique ones; ones no one in this world might as well fully be able to comprehend; there were many humans out there who had struggled with loneliness and abandonment and it had left them as scarred as he had been. 

“Such is the way of mankind”, you insisted, holding your hand out into the wind as if you could touch it. Little did he know you had grown to love the wind a little more ever since he received his vision, because it reminded you of him. He didn’t know that you had fallen for him long since, watching him fall in love with another and drift further away from you. And now he was hurting because of it. And in a way, that made you even more sad but just as determined to ease his mind and soothe the pain in his heart; one which may not be inside him but which you were nonetheless sure he had. 

“Some of us seem to find our place in this world as easily as it is to breathe”, you began, looking at him with a gentle expression, “but I’ve found many of those never reach true happiness. They just settle. But for a lot of us that’s never enough. We get swept away by the waves of conflict and abandonment; relentlessly clawing our way up the next cliff and hoping that this time no one will push us off.” He didn’t dare look at you for a while when you placed your hand on top of his but he had to admit he found comfort in the subtle touch. Maybe he was just clinging onto a hint of affection after having been abandoned; desperate to feel cared for; but in this moment that didn’t matter to him.

“Isn’t that a little pathetic?”, he mocked your words with a bitter voice. “It is, truly”, you nodded your head, “we err for as long as we live. But it’s the only way we ever reach our happiness. It’s in our nature to, even in the face of all obstacles, have at least a little bit of hope in us. We all do. Even the ones who claim to have none. And one day that hope may be rewarded. I’ve seen it happen time and time again. It can happen to you. I think that’s worth being a little bit pathetic for.” You chuckled and he thought about your words.

“They looked so happy”, he then said after a while, remembering when he had met his former lover once again with their new partner as they were taking a stroll near the port. He remembered how he’d heard them giggle and tease each other. How they’d referred to jokes he didn’t understand and call each other nicknames that made him cringe. The familiar feeling of shock and disbelief was spreading in his body again and he looked at his shaking fingers. “Do you think they’re happier without me?”, he asked quietly.

“Probably”, you shrugged calmly and he let out a laugh at the absurdity of the situation. Hadn’t you come here in a silly attempt to cheer him up?

“But what matters is not the people we have our best times with, but the ones who stay with us through our worst. Because then we know that when we share happiness with them; one day we’ll be able to look back at those memories and feel satisfied. What’s the point of having the most fun of your life, if who you shared it with will be gone in a year or two because they moved on to the next thrill? What will be left of it but emptiness? What’s the point, but to learn what’s truly of value in this life?”, you gave him an encouraging smile and squeezed his hand, “I know you would have given them all that and been there for them when they needed it most. If they weren’t able to see that, that’s their loss.”

The Wanderer noticed how the Inazuman islands had now disappeared completely from view and he felt a breeze of wind blow through his hair as his tears poured down his cheeks and his facade of bitterness cracked as he allowed himself to say the words that had been stuck on his tongue for all this time. “I’m hardly a loss”, he croaked out with a shaky voice before he started sobbing.

You remained silent, instantly pulling him into your embrace and letting him cry into your shoulder. He clutched the fabric on your back with his fists as you put a hand on the back of his head and gently ran it through his soft hair. 

“That’s not true”, you whispered, not wanting to overwhelm him with new information but also wishing he knew just how much he meant to you. That you wanted to stay by his side and love him the way he deserved, come what may. For now, you chose to try and convey that with your loving embrace, holding him for as long as he needed you to. 

“You’re a wonderful person and I’m glad to be your friend”, you whispered, tightening your hold on him, “you have as much the potential as anyone to make someone else happy and to be happy yourself. It may be hard to believe right now, but I promise you, you just have to hold on a little bit longer.” Many had told him that. But there was a sincerity in your voice and in the way you hugged him that he couldn't help but feel like there was more to it than just empty promises. Were you perhaps talking about yourself? 

What a silly thought, he brushed it off but it still gave him that familiar spark of hope. When he had been abandoned once again, he asked himself if anyone would ever truly love him. And maybe, the answer to that question would be you. Right now, he could hardly say you’d be in love with each other one day. But there was something. Like a sprout growing in the harshest desert. And something inside him couldn’t wait to see what it would become if he only had a little courage.

So he hugged you back gently, resting his head on your shoulder and smiling for the first time in days. This didn’t go unnoticed by you. “Are you feeling a little better?”, you wrapped an arm around his shoulder as you watched the sun set and stars appear in the sky. “Yeah”, he admitted, switching sides on the ship and looking in the direction of Sumeru, “and maybe I can afford to be a little pathetic.” “Oh trust me, you already did that”, you teased him and winked at him, “remember that time you called yourself the ‘Everlasting Lord of Arcane Wisdom’? That was pretty embarrassing.” He cringed at your words but it brought out a laugh through the tears. “Don’t remind me.”

You looked peacefully at the horizon, taking his hand in yours again to indicate you’d stay here to support him. “Relentlessness is one of the most defining traits of humanity”, you said with a gentle smile, “to persevere even in the face of adversity. To thrive in even the harshest environments and succeed despite the failures of the past and against the expectations of others. To suffer and lose, and to love, despite.”

notes: i listened to the sad fairy tail ost while writing this sbdbsndjsjdjs. i've had this idea for a while but the motivation to write it just hit me over the head today. hope you liked it. ❤️

[sorcerous-caress]

Picture this:

An adventuring party that consists of all non-human party members. They’re all capable at their respective classes but they also often but heads with each other over the most ridiculous of things. The only thing that keeps them from falling apart really is their leader and party mediator who makes sires no goes too far. They all admire their leader but the thing that bothers them is… well they have no idea what they look like other than their general silhouette. Their leader is never seen without having their entire body covered and they alway have a mask on too.

The others have bets over what their leader is ranging from fey to changling to demigod. Someone suggested maybe human before they all laughed at that suggestion after all their leader went up against owlbears like they were nothing there was no way.

After some time, the party goes looking for their leader cause dinner was ready at their camp. They catch their leader, by a small lake, in the middle of disrobing only to reveal a human who was practically the walking definition of the word ‘PRETTY’.

The human leader goes about bathing themself without care while the rest of the party secretly watches them lather and rub over every curve of their body. The party members’ heads now all filled with images of their leader’s naked body, their human leader’s naked body.

Their leader who they have also told repeatedly in passing how much they’d love to fuck a human like they were sex doll. There was no way they could ever tell their leader that they knew. Who knows that they’d do, leave? Hell no. Better to make the leader become the team’s new secret maturbation material then have them leave.

-🦑anon

We must have been part of the same hivemind in a past life anon, this is fucking delicious.

Especially the last part. No like I adore the idea that humans are discussed amongst other races when they think no human is nearby.

Maybe they're even respectful to humans when they're in human cities and act totally normal, but on the road when it's just them with each other, they start making inappropriate comments.

The tieflings mentioning how they'd love to fuck a human stupid, it doesn't even seen that hard to do with their already small brains.

The half-orc comment on how the human race are practically just fleshlights as they are, making them even more useless and stupid would just ruin the fun of hearing them beg for more.

You, the cloaked human leader, just walk silently amidst the group as the conversation spirals.

The two elves in the back are quietly having their own hushed conversion amongst themselves. At first, you think they're not even paying attention to the conversation, but then some of their words slip louder than other and you hear bits and pieces.

How one human can never be enough, you need at least 3 or 4 to fully be satisfied. It's too sad that humans get too emotional and jealous to allow themselves to be shared like how they were meant to be. The other elf agrees and adds how important it is to train that stubbornness out of them, make them docile and submissive, a collar and some fitting clothes really do wonders in showing them their rightful place.

And those people are your team who you've been leading for a long while now, the "heros" that most human cities celebrated and sang praises about. You wonder if they always thought this way, had these conversations when out of earshot.

You attempt not to draw attention to yourself, let them talk it out. Your dwarf companion, who you've been secretly looking up to for a while, nudges you and asks why are you so quiet.

You say you're just...not used to conversations like these before.

He stops, looks at you still, then laughs.

Saying he fully understands, he too was very repressed during his stay in a human city. How such a tease these humans tend to be without being aware of it, how each time one wandered into his smith shop and curiously admired his handworks, he imagined bending them over the counter and letting them keep the forged weapon as a gift.

You just nod.

The dragonborn leans closer to you, their big arm wrapping around your covered shoulders as they whispered against your mask as if sharing a little secret.

Calling you leader, promising to take you to a very lovely pleasure house that has the most beautiful of humans. It's a spot they frequent and the humans there know how to take two or more people at the same time, they can be surprisingly flexible even with their full and slutty bodies.

The conversation trails off there as the githyanki in the party barks at them to stop bothering their leader and wasting time, that they should be on gaurd since they are travelling through the woods.

"Besides," the Githyanki says, "you can't be sure that no humans are around here"

"Relax, the closest human settlement is days away." The gnome finally speaks as they put their map away.

"And their kind is known to stray and wander far," The Githyanki replies, "I can still smell their filthy scent, it's fogging my mind and making me more agitated. How can a whole race just walk around smelling like they're begging to be bred."

You force yourself to keep walking, to not give out any hint or even a twitch.

But yeah, you get the idea, just absolutely the most filthy locker room talk. The more time the leader spends with the party, the more your companions open up about their filthy fantasies about humanity.

How tight they feel, how smooth their insides are. Both the Tiefling and dragonborn remark how they love the feeling of their soft insides against the ridges and pumps on their cocks. how the scales brush against the human insides with each move and plunge.

The drow women comments on how their men make much more fun toys than drow men, how they're so full of themselves and their big egos that she loves breaking. Riding them until their cute little penis starts hurting then making the human eat out their own cum out of her.

Maybe one high elf secretly admits to liking being dominated by humans. How they get lost in their own head a lot, humiliating the elf and holding their arms behind their back as they fuck them. How they taunt the elf for lusting after the humankind and how disappointed Corellon must be in them.

The dwarf admits that he likes to be gentle, rewarding with the cute humans and praising them. Teaching them all the ways they can please him and how to suck him off like an eager puppy. Remarking how humans tend to be the most fast of learners.

Suddenly standing up, your moving cuts the conversation around the campfire short.

You say that you're going to have a bath in the nearby lake, wishing them a nice mean and leaving immediately.

Unaware to the fact it was the githyanki's turn to scout the area around the campfire. Oblivious to how the drow guy followed after you in the shadows when no one was paying attention.

[belit0]

Hello 😏 can I request primal play? “Run. If I catch you, I fuck you.” With IzuTobi? And if it’s not too much trouble either in a separate post or this same one, the same prompt but with indra

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSS, I LITERALLY LOVE THIS SO MUCH

(this is a combined post, Tobiizu and Indra x reader, separately)

Please, TobiIzu lovers, let me know what u think about this one cause I really liked it🛐👀💕

Tobirama x Izuna

"You have three days. Run, flee, hide. If I catch you, I'll fuck you wherever you are, no matter if there are people present or not." Tobirama's words bounce off every wall of his mind, exhilarating and terrifying in equal parts. Izuna eats his rice leisurely, watching the owner of the tavern he managed to find as a refuge wander back and forth. There is not much work to be done as the place is a proper shithole, but he moves as if he had to attend to 500 people at the same time.

72 hours is a huge advantage, considering the rules include the impossibility for the Senju to use his Hiraishin. If he wants to catch him, he will have to move like a normal ninja, ignoring the possibility of teleporting with his seals.

Izuna is convinced of having done a good job, putting between them at least a good few kilometers of distance and having used every hour of advantage in his favor, without wasting a second to get as far away from him as possible.

It all started as a stupid fight between the two, arguing about the past, particularly that time Izuna almost lost his life. They debated who of the two was faster before the albino developed his stupid technique, both claiming to have been superior to the other.

The decantation of this conflict ended in a terrifying bet, where Tobirama proposes to hunt down the Uchiha before seven days have passed. Giving him three days to escape felt like a joke, but he secretly appreciated it.

As the time limit he had to flee expired, he decided to set up his hideout in a lost village in the middle of nowhere, non-existent on the map, far from any popular road. He spent a good amount of hours covering any kind of trail he might have left, hiding his chakra so as not to be detected.

The Uchiha believes he has done an excellent job, relaxing and enjoying a plate of hot food from the decaying shelter he found. Everything seems to have gone perfectly, and he must stay there until the end of the bet, safe and secure.

On the fourth day, Izuna gets bored and decides to explore, finding a lake where he can take a bath in the open air and soak up sun. Life is sweet and easy without the constant nagging and fighting of his enemy, but damn he misses the bastard. He can even picture how Tobirama would fuck him against the rocks, half-body submerged in water, and his mind flies. He only returns to the shelter to masturbate with that idea in mind, not wanting to dirty the place with his business.

The fifth day is filled with uncertainty, the moment he calculated Tobirama would be nearby. He planted false evidence in the opposite direction, carefully planned footsteps and speed marks strewn along other roads, seeking to throw him off and waste his time. His strategy is flawless, and he figures he has found a way to make him swallow dust.

The Senju will lose.

The sixth day dawns with pure peace and the taste of being close to victory palpable in his mouth, imagining how he will rub in his enemy's face his uselessness for tracking and how bad his sensory skills are.

Tobirama turned out to be much ado about nothing, empty threats.

Izuna goes back to sitting at the same table he always occupies to eat, greeting the old man who runs the business of that destroyed place as if a close friend and devouring the food placed in front of him. He looks out the window as he finishes plate after plate, anxious to go back and laugh in the Senju's face.

He leans back in his chair when he feels like his belly is going to explode, and thinks he's crazy when he hears the old man talking to another customer. Since he arrived, he has never seen another person stop there, not even enter through the door, travelers having no idea of the place's existence.

Their conversation happens behind his back, and he listens intently without turning around. "Always wonderful meals from this place, one could expect nothing less from you." A deep male voice speaks calmly, complimenting the poor old man's services.

The person speaks as if a frequent visitor to the place, and that is what makes Izuna understand the seriousness of the matter. No one knows this site, no one can find it on the map because it literally does not exist, and there are no villages nearby.

"Lord Senju...you make this old man feel special, you are welcome here any time you please."

He has been found.

It takes not even a second for him to get up and run, violently opening the door and quickly moving deeper into the forest. It can't be, there's no way he's found a lost, non-existent spot and not fallen for any of his traps.

There is absolutely no way Tobirama could have read his strategy and discovered his plan so easily, without even announcing himself when finding him. How long has he been there? Was he waiting for Izuna to notice it on his own? Wasn't he intending to act?

He has no time to think as he jumps from branch to branch, suddenly agitated and with the urgent need to flee. Breathing hard only because of the surprise of the situation, he is desperate to get away from the place and make him lose trail of him.

Food rises and falls in his throat as he uses all his strength and runs, focusing on making his legs move to their maximum capacity. He swallows a few times to avoid having to stop to vomit, unable to waste time.

He has to run.

If he really sets his mind to it, he can manage to disappear, mislead him with quick strategies, and just move. Hell, he might even resort to hiding under his brother's skirt if he really wants to win, tempted by the need not to hurt his own ego.

Izuna feels how his enemy follows close behind him, too near for his liking, and hurries even faster. His legs burn from the effort and sweat runs down his forehead, but he has no time to stop. He'll have to struggle for a few hours to outrun him, figure out where to turn and which way to go-

BOOM!

The Uchiha unexpectedly falls to the ground, a sharp blow to the throat that robs all the air from his lungs and doesn't let him breathe. He writhes in the dirt and leaves, clutching his neck and feeling himself suffocating, struggling to get oxygen into his body.

What the actual fuck? Tobirama was behind him, how can this be?

As soon as he manages to open his throat again he violently coughs, almost vomiting (again) in the process, unable to focus his attention on understanding what happened. There were no obstacles in front of him, no high branches, why is he suddenly on the ground?

"I thought you'd be better at this, after the way you filled your mouth talking bullshit." His rival speaks with a teasing tone, mocking and towering his form with arms crossed. He looks at him calmly, smirk adorning the corner of his lips, taunting.

He can't find the strength to reply with sarcasm, still worried about being able to breathe normally, but he'd tell him to fuck off if he could.

A second Senju joins the meeting, a perfect clone that looks at him with the same condescension as the original Tobirama, and the Uchiha understands what his strategy was. The albino hid in the route he assumed Izuna would use as an escape path, years of knowledge gained from war and combat giving him clear information on what his enemy would do once aware of the danger, and sent his copy to make him run straight into him.

He simply had to hide and wait, let him sprint directly towards his arms.

Fucking cheating bastard.

"You said I couldn't use my Hiraishin, but you didn't say anything about other techniques." One of the two Tobiramas towering in front of him flips him over on the ground, pulling down his pants and exposing his ass to the air. The original hovers down on top of him and whispers in his ear "you'll take me twice today, just for being a pain in the ass." He can feel his erection against his bare skin, and the moment the Senju rises up and spits out his hand.

The rest is history.

Indra x Reader

An hour is not enough time when talking about being chased by Indra Otsutsuki himself, but he was kind enough to only walk in order to hunt her down. He will not hurry or rush the pace to capture her, only striding.

(Y/N) runs away as fast as she can, but nothing seems to provide space between her predator and her. She looks back and sees him moving calmly, straight in her direction. It is terrifying and distressing, unable to understand how it is possible that even when she runs as fast as she can, nothing manages to give her an advantage, to get away.

He didn't give her much time, an ever impatient man desperate to get what he wants, and the exhaustion the girl feels from having spent the last 60 minutes rushing is real.  People stare at her passing by quizzically, wondering what she's doing and where she's going in such a hurry.

The Uchiha compound is large, spacious, but she can't find anywhere suitable to hide. Indra knows every nook and cranny of each part of his own territory, completely internalized with the place he built, leaving her with no options.

They have been in this insane game for quite a while, and Indra seems to rejoice every time he seizes her in his hands only to allow her to try running away again.

She simply devotes all her effort to maintaining a high pace, forcing her legs to keep moving, not letting her intensity or guard down. (Y/n) is convinced she will manage to lose him if she keeps up her rhythm, ignoring the fact she had her time to escape, yet Indra caught up with her in a matter of minutes.

He didn't reveal what would happen if he captured her, but the malice with which he implied it would be in her best interest not to fall into his hands filled her with a terrible urgency, desperate to get away, save herself.

When she looks back, Indra is only a few steps away, smirking with anticipation for whatever it is he has in store. It looks as if he might touch her just by stretching out his arm, but he just keeps on making her run.

The horror of being hunted by such a determined and cruel person creates deep emptiness in her stomach, her body giving up and slowing down little by little. She doesn't want to be caught, she doesn't want to face the consequences of it, but her legs scream for a break and her feet can no longer stand the effort.

In tears, she decides to slow down, and feels the exact moment when the Otsutsuki towers behind her, waiting for her to turn and face him. "You have failed." Is all she hears before a hand closes over her mouth and she senses the man's chest against her back, a choked scream on his skin, and pure panic in her veins.

The scene suddenly changes, a moment of movement that seems unreal, vision blurring in her eyes and quickly adjusting again. The setting changes completely, and now she finds herself in a room, facing a bed. "Three times I've allowed you to run away, three times I've captured you. It's now time for me to collect my reward."

She is pushed mercilessly to the mattress, while Indra looks at her with satisfaction and derision as he takes off his robe. "I mentioned running behooves you, yet instead you dismissed my warning as a game. Now, on to the business at hand."

[littlestarabove]

One Master of Death

➼ pairing: Harry Potter x reader

➼ summary: This drabble illustrates your years with Harry and his friends all leading up to the present… and what a dark present it is.

➼ word count: 13.9k (this is too long to be considered a drabble… oops)

➼ what to expect: “I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.”

➼ additional warnings: angst, character death, deathly hallows part 1 spoilers, almost graphic injuries (if you squint, i don’t like blood either)

➼ talk to my characters!

➼ IF YOU HAVE SEEN THIS SOMEWHERE ELSE, it was posted to a different blog, also owned by ME, so it's still my original work

You never thought it would come to this.

Things didn’t turn out the way you expected them to, and certainly didn’t fall in line with your previous years at Hogwarts had gone.

All your life, being a witch had been a dream. Magic was absolutely fascinating to you. When you received your invitation to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, you weren’t shocked, scared, or even nervous. You were ecstatic. You’d always known there was magical presence within your life, though your Muggle parents always chalked it up to your over-active imagination. You couldn’t find any other way to explain the strange occurrences when you were sad, angry, scared, or even happy. Objects levitated, valuables shattered, and other unexplainable things happened with your emotions that not even the best doctors could understand.

You could finally tell your family “I told you so,” when your letter came in the mail- well, rather by screech owl. Next thing you knew, after converting all of your allowance to galleons, you were on your way to Diagon Alley.

Now, this place was your dream. Every where you looked, magic inhabited every nook and cranny. You didn’t even know where to start. Of course, you had your list of school supplies, but you weren’t paying it any mind as your head ran ramped with thoughts about where to begin. You hadn’t even arrived at Hogwarts and you were planning out the next seven years of your academic career with extreme detail.

You were wandering aimlessly when you saw her- through the musty window The Magical Menagerie inside of a golden cage- your future companion and confidant. She was the most majestic creature you’d ever seen, and you wanted nothing more than for her to be yours.

You walked out of The Magical Menagerie with your very own screech owl, who you later decided to call Maggie. There was no particular reasoning as to why you picked that name- it just seemed fitting.

Your wand ceremony was probably something you would remember for the remainder of your life. It was one of the most magical and ethereal events you’d experienced in your entire life. The wand that settled on you was made of reed wood, 15 inches long, with a core of dragon heartstring. Mr. Ollivander specified that you were destined for a dramatic, adventured-filled life, but also warned you of the dangers that lied ahead of you.

Whatever that meant. You didn’t take him seriously. You were 11.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

You want to say you met Hermione Granger due to the fact that you’re both amazing people adept with social skills and the ability to integrate with other witches and wizards, but that would be a big, fat lie.

You met her when you both stayed in the library after hours, which resulted in the two of you being locked in for the night until someone came to open it up in the early hours of the morning.

Which wasn’t for a long time.

It was your second year at Hogwarts, and this mistake was understandable… for a first year. Had you been 11, you wouldn’t have been so hard on yourself. But, no, you were at the grand age of 12 years old, you should know better.

That’s what your tween brain thought, at least. You used to look back on this memory with Hermione and laugh.

Speak of the devil, this is how you got to know the brilliant witch, through forced socialization behind the locked doors of the dimly lit library.

“Guess we’re stuck here, huh?” you were the first to speak. Hermione looked up at you and nodded.

“Guess we are.” She pouted.

“I’m Y/N L/N.” You stuck your hand out for Hermione to shake, which she did, politely.

“I’m Hermione Granger.” She smiled brightly, to which you returned.

“So… how did you end up in here past closing?” you asked cautiously.

“I simply lost track of time, I was looking for something.” Hermione explained vaguely, the both of you seated hopelessly in front of the doors to the exit. You sighed deeply.

“I fell asleep on my book.” you admitted. Hermione giggled, which pulled a laugh of your own through your throat.

“The boys are never going to let me live this one down.” Hermione sighed with a hopeless grin. You tilted your head at her.

“The boys?” you questioned curiously. Hermione smiled sheepishly. “My friends, Harry and Ron. They’re going to tease me about this endlessly.” Hermione chuckled.

“Harry? As in, Harry Potter?” you questioned, to which Hermione confirmed with a nod. “I’ve seen him around, but never here.”

Hermione snorted and shook her head. “That’s because I don’t think they’ve ever set foot in the library.” she snickered.

“That’s a shame, I love it in here. It’s where I belong.” You joked, beaming.

“I practically live in here, how come I’ve never seen you before?” Hermione inquired with confusion. Your cheeks turned a dull shade of red as you ducked your head.

“I sit near the back, it’s quieter back there.” You explained nervously.

“Ah, that would be why. I sit near the front.” Hermione giggled.

Next thing you knew, the two of you were chatting and sharing life stories while playing with the cards with a pack that you had buried in one of your robe pockets.

“What are you actually doing stuck here, Hermione?” you raised an eyebrow as you adjusted your hand of cards. Hermione sighed in defeat.

“I guess I could tell you. I’m looking for a recipe for polyjuice potion.” she admitted as she scanned her remaining cards.

“Wow, that’s quite complicated, I hear. I’m impressed. What do you need it for?”

“We’re trying to figure out who the heir of Slytherin is, and we need the potion to sneak into their common room undetected.” Hermione explained thoroughly.

“Oh, that rumor with the horrid message written in blood on the wall? I thought it was all an elaborate prank, but then the professors began to worry, so I knew it was serious.” You clarified with a grimace.

“We think it’s Malfoy.” Hermione announced. You snorted. “Doesn’t everyone? Malfoy is the perfect git to be the heir to a Muggle hating wizard.” you grumbled.

Hermione laughed. “Ron and Harry would like you, you’re funny and you hate Malfoy. That’s two things they look for in a person.” Hermione joked with a hint of seriousness.

“I think I would like them as well.” you smiled with a polite undertone.

Hermione looked at her cards and groaned. “I fold.” She placed her cards face down. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“I thought we were playing go-fish?”

The two of you burst into a fit a laughter. That was the night that began a lasting friendship between two extraordinary witches.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ Hermione determinedly strode towards the library with Ron and Harry in tow.

“Hermione, why are we in such a rush?” Ron whined as he struggled to keep up with her fast pace. Hermione huffed.

“I’ve got a friend keeping the book we need safe. We’re already late meeting her there.” Hermione explained in exasperation.

The trio burst through the doors to the library and Hermione began to scan the crowd when she remembered something important.

“She sits near the back, come on.” Hermione waved urgently as she began her path to the back of the library.

She peeked into every row with the hope of finding you sitting alone with the book you’d promised to find in your free time. Much to Hermione’s surprise, you weren’t as close to the back as she had originally thought. She found you in no time.

“There you are! I was beginning to worry.” You noticed them as they came barreling down towards you, all with heavy breathing.

“Sorry. Lost track of time.” Hermione apologized. You shook your head.

“No worries. I’ve got the book here.” You shook the book in your hand to indicate your findings.

Harry and Ron stood utterly confused behind Hermione as she took a seat without hesitation.

“Who are you?” Ron asked quite bluntly. Hermione groaned.

“Must you be so direct?” Hermione gestured to you. “Harry, Ron, this is Y/N. Y/N, this Harry, and that’s Ron.” Hermione pointed to each boy respectively. You beamed widely at them.

“Pleasure to meet you both.” neither of them replied, only stared at you.

“Warm welcome.” you chuckled awkwardly. Hermione noticed your distress and hurried to confront the boys.

“Be polite. She’s helping us.” Hermione gestured violently for them to sit. They both did as they were told.

You tried your best to ignore the fact that Hermione might as well have promised that you would be well-liked by her friends. You chewed on the inside of your cheek nervously as you presented Hermione with the book you’d promised her.

In the dark nook, you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione huddled around the book entitled “Moste Potente Potions.” The spotted pages were littered with disturbing illustrations.

You flipped to your book mark and dragged your finger under the sub title.

“Here it is: ’The Polyjuice Potion. Properly brewed, the Polyjuice Potion allows the drinker to transform himself temporarily into the physical form of another’…” You read directly from the text, trailing off as you reached the end of the important information.

“You mean, Harry and I drink some of this stuff and we turn into Crabbe and Goyle?” Ron leaned forward to clarify his suspicions.

“Yes.” Hermione assured. Ron beamed widely.

“Wicked! Malfoy’ll tell us anything!” Ron exclaimed excitedly.

“Exactly. But, it’s tricky. I’ve never seen a more complicated potion. Lacewing flies, leeches, fluxweed. And, of course, we’ll need a bit of whoever we want to change into too.” Hermione worried her bottom lip as she read over the ingredients for the overly complicated and advanced potion.

“Hang on now. I’m drinking nothing with Crabbe’s toenails in it.” Ron grumbled with a grimace.

“How long will it take to make?” Harry leaned forward over Ron’s shoulder to take a more intricate peek at the instructions.

“It looks like a month.” you scanned over the pages carefully.

“A month? But if Malfoy is the heir of Slytherin… he could attack half the Muggle-borns in the school by then.” Harry cautioned. Hermione shivered.

“As if people like us need more reason to be targeted by Malfoy.” You placed your chin in the palm of your hand with a pout.

Hermione beamed. “You’re a Muggle-born as well? I knew we were going to be great friends.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry and Ron made their exit from their library as you and Hermione remained seated to further study the potion to better learn the ins and outs.

Ron pulled Harry aside with a worried expression. “I don’t think Y/N being in our group is a good idea. We do not need another Hermione to nag us about every little thing.” Ron was practically livid. Harry shrugged.

“I dunno. I think it would be nice to have another girl around. Someone… to keep Hermione occupied.” Harry’s lie wasn’t the most clever, but he figured it was enough to throw Ron off his scent. Quite frankly, the prospect of having another girl join their group made Harry quite flustered, especially due to the fact that you’re probably one of the prettiest 12-year-olds he’d ever seen. But, of course, it didn’t take much to convince Ron otherwise.

“You’re right. That would be a big weight off our own shoulders.” Ron agreed. Harry smiled in spite of his lie.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Third Year

Silence. A room of shadows. While those around him slumbered, Harry lied awake, unable to sleep. Finally, he turned to his cupboard, took out the Marauder’s Map, and whispered,

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good.”

The crooked corridors and serpentine passageways of Hogwarts radiated across the parchment, then… a tiny dot caught Harry’s eye. He frowned. It read: “Peter Pettigrew.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry moved down a dark corridor, map in hand, wand aglow. In the paintings he passed, the subjects snored softly.

Harry’s and Peter’s figures on the map drew closer and closer.

Harry squinted toward the end of the corridor. Down at the map. Pettigrew moved quickly down the adjoining corridor. Twenty yards away. Ten. Only seconds away…

Wand trembling in his hand, Harry glanced from the map to the dark corridor ahead, again and again. Then… as the two dots were about to collide… he looked slowly up, turned the corner, heart in his chest… and met-

You?

“Oh! Harry!” You exclaim as you nearly rammed right into Harry.

Harry blinked, startled, then glanced down at the map. Pettigrew had moved past him, but your figure stood adjacent to his. Odd, how hadn’t he noticed that before?

“Y/N. What are you doing down here?” Harry raised an eyebrow in question. You were quick to explain yourself.

“Hermione wanted to conduct some research on werewolves… can’t imagine why… but she mentioned something about it being far too late for her, so I went instead.” You gestured to all the rolls of parchment in your arms- your diligent notes.

“I was just on my way back… hold on, what are you doing up at this hour, Harry?” you redirected the conversation onto Harry. He froze.

“Um… well…” Harry glanced down at the map, flustered, and back up to you.

“Is that the Marauder’s Map? The Weasley twins mentioned that they gave it to you.” You pointed at the map in curiosity. Harry’s expression turned confused, but, yet again, you were quick to clarify.

“I was helping them set up a prank… they needed to know the precise angle a… certain bucket had to be placed at on the top of a… certain professor’s door.” you grinned sheepishly rocking on your heels. Harry smiled softly.

“I was just… looking for someone. I think the map is mistaken… says Peter Pettigrew is heading… that way.” Harry pointed in the direction he’d come from. You follow his finger.

“Pettigrew? Hermione mentioned he was dead.” You shrugged. Harry mimicked your actions.

“Well, what are we waiting for? Let’s follow it.” you gestured in the direction that Harry had pointed to. Confused but excited, Harry turns on his heel to follow you, casting his wand along the walls.

“Watch it there, boy!”

You and Harry jumped. But it was only an old man in a painting, scowling in the glare of Harry’s wand light. On the map, Pettigrew continued to move away. Harry made to follow, with you in tow, then stopped, hearing footsteps. The wand’s spot danced across the parchment, and found another dot. Approaching fast: Severus Snape.

“Put it away!” You hissed urgently. Harry fumbled to put the tip of his wand on the map. “Mischief managed!” He stashed the map away, extinguishing his wand, and turned… into the harsh glare of Snape’s wand.

“Potter.” Snape sneered. Snape moved his wand slightly to the left and illuminated you, grinning sheepishly.

“L/N.” He grumbled.

“What’re you two doing wandering the corridors at night?” Snape questioned.

“We were… we were sleepwalking…”

A sneer curdled the corner of Snape’s lips.

“How extraordinarily like your father you are, Potter. He, too, was exceedingly arrogant. Strutting about the castle-”

“My dad didn’t strut. Nor do I. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d appreciate you lowering your wand.” Harry straightened and nodded towards Snape’s wand, aimed directly to his face and nearly blinding him.

Snape eyed Harry coldly, containing himself. He lowered his wand.

“Turn out… your pockets, the both of you.” Snape demanded.

You nor Harry moved, Harry’s eyes still boring into Snape.

“Turn out your pockets!”

Finally, the both of you obliged. You turned up with nothing but your scrolls. But, seeing the map, Snape’s eyes glittered.

“And this. What might it be?” He asked.

“Spare bit of parchment…” You came up with hastily. Your mind worked quickly when it came to confrontation, it was one of your skills.

“Really…” Snape poised his wand over the map. “Reveal your secrets!”

To both of your horror, words began to appear. Snape studied you both, a sadistic half-smile on his lips. He turned the map your way.

“Read it.” Snape ordered.

“Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs… offer their compliments to Professor Snape… and…” Harry glanced up at professor Snape after reading the rest, unsure.

“Go on.” Snape urged. You leaned over Harry’s shoulder and snorted.

“And request that he keep his abnormally large nose out of other people’s business.” You snickered, your eyes locked with Snape’s.

Snape’s smile drooped. “Why you insolent little-”

“Professor?”

Snape turned to see Professor Lupin standing in the shadows.

“Well, well. Lupin. Out for a little walk in the moonlight, are we?” Snape sneered.

“Harry? Y/N? You all right?”

“That remains to be seen. I’ve just now confiscated a rather curious artifact from Mr. Potter and Miss L/N. Take a look, Lupin. This is supposed to be your area of expertise.” Snape snatched the parchment from Harry’s grip and presented it to Lupin. Lupin took the parchment, which now displayed a rather unflattering caricature of Snape and a pair of potions.

“Clearly, it’s full of dark magic.” Snape continued.

“I seriously doubt that, Severus. it looks to me as if it merely insults anyone who tries to read it. It suspect it’s a Zonko product. Nevertheless, I shall pursue any hidden qualities it may possess. As you say, it’s my area of expertise. Come, Harry, Y/N.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

The two of you walked aside a fuming Lupin, who gripped the map fiercely.

“I don’t know how this map came to be in your possessions, Harry, Y/N, but I’m astounded that you didn’t turn it in immediately. Especially you, Miss L/N. For all that time you spend with Granger, I would have expected her behavior to rub off on you in some way.” Lupin fumed. You hung your head. Lupin directed his next comment to Harry.

“Harry, did you ever stop to think that this- in the hands of Sirius Black- is a map to-”

Lupin stops when he realizes that he and Harry were not alone, and stops himself from going any further. Harry waved his hands in defense. “Don’t worry, Professor… she knows… about Sirius.” Harry was referring to the information Hermione had entrusted you with recently- About Harry’s relation to Sirius and the plot against him.

You nodded in confirmation. Lupin sighed with an expression of relief.

“A map to you?” he finished. Harry walked alongside silently, you hot on his heels. Lupin could barely contain his anger.

“Your father didn’t set much store by rules either. But he and your mother did give their lives to save yours. Gambling their sacrifice by walking about the castle unprotected, with a killer on the loose, strikes me as a poor way to repay them. I won’t cover for you again, Harry.”

Lupin entered his office, tossed the map on his desk, and began to sort through some papers. You and Harry lingered briefly in the doorway. You absently eyed the waxing moon that glimmered beyond the window, then stared to turn away.

“Professor. Just so you know, I don’t think the map always works. Earlier, it showed someone in the castle. Someone I know to be dead.” You directed your attention to Lupin, away from the moon.

“And who was that, Y/N?” He was only half-listening.

“Peter Pettigrew.” Harry finished.

Lupin hesitated ever-so-slightly, then returned to his papers.

“Very well. I’d like you to return to your dormitories now. Oh, and don’t take any detours.”

As you and Harry looked back, Lupin tapped the map. “If you do, I’ll know.” Lupin smirked slightly.

You and Harry rounded the corner and set on the path back to the Gryffindor common room.

The moment you’re out of sight of Lupin’s office, your burst into a fit of giggles, catching Harry by surprise.

“That was amazing. When you spend all of your time with Hermione, you never almost get caught like that! Oh, it was exhilarating.” you sighed happily, turning to Harry.

“I… never would have thought that you liked things of the sort.” Harry nervously scratched the nape of his neck as the two of you neared the common room.

“There’s a lot you’ll have to learn about me, Harry. I’ll see you later?” You murmured the password to the common room and stepped inside, Harry not far behind. You moved to disappear up the stairs to the girls’ dormitories when Harry stopped you.

“Have breakfast with us tomorrow.” he blurted. It was enough to stop you in your tracks and to make you turn to face him.

“Hm. I suppose I could. I’ll see you there, Potter.” you disappeared around the staircase.

Harry smiled to himself, his heart pitter-pattering in his chest as he stared off in the direction you disappeared in.

Oh dear, was he in trouble now.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Fourth Year

It was almost as if your fourth year (so far) had gone by in a blur. You arrived at school, got a new, suspiciously shady professor, and all of a sudden, Harry as a contestant in the infamous Triwizard Tournament. You were worried because of what the tournament was infamous for- severe injury and competition to the death.

You, Hermione, Ron, and Harry were sat in the Great Hall, scowling at the latest addition of the Daily Prophet. Hermione had been made out to look like she was after two famous wizards- Viktor Krum and Harry. She was livid, but you all managed to distract her for a limited period of time.

“Parcel for you, Mr. Weasley.” a small boy approached the table and presented Ron with a particularly large parcel.

“Ah, thank you, Nigel.”

The boy stared in jittery awe at Harry.

“Not now, Nigel.” Ron urged Nigel off.

As Nigel stumbled off, you, Harry, and Hermione eyed Ron. He shrugged.

“I told him I’d get him Harry’s autograph. Hey look. Mum’s sent me something… Mum’s sent me a dress.”

Harry watched Ron lift a lace-trimmed gown from the box.

“Does match your eyes. Is there a bonnet? Ah- hah!” Harry pulled a matching little collar from the box and tossed it at Ron. You giggled from beside Harry, not-so-subtly drinking a sip of pumpkin juice to hide it.

“Nose down, Harry.” Ron grumbled. He moved to Ginny hopefully. “Hey, Ginny. This must be for you.”

Ginny grimaced at the manky old thing. “I’m not wearing that. It’s ghastly.” She gasped as she laid eyes on it.

Hermione, back of her hand pressed to her mouth, suppressed a laugh.

“What are you on about?” Ron grumbled.

“They’re not for Ginny. They’re for you. Dress robes.” Hermione clarified with a smile.

“Dress robes? For what?” Ron panicked.

Professor McGonagall seemed to appear out of no where, making herself known by answering Ron’s question. “The Yule Ball. Which, if you don’t mind, I’d like to speak to you about, Potter.”

Harry nodded as he let McGonagall pull him off to the side to speak to him privately.

“The Yule Ball, Professor?” Harry questioned as they were out of earshot from his friends.

“It’s traditional during the Triwizard Tournament for the host school to put on a Christmas ball. It is also traditional for the three Champions- or in this case four- to be the first to dance.”

Harry cocked his head, as if he had water in his ear.

“Dance? With a girl?” His voice shook slightly with the question.

“Traditionally with a young lady, yes. Why don’t you take…” McGonagall searched the area where Harry’s friends sat for a suitable date. Her eyes settled on you and she smiled.

“Miss L/N? You’ve been spending an awful lot of time with her, recently. And she’s a lovely girl. A lot like your friend, Miss Granger.” McGonagall beamed as she gestured to you.

Harry followed her line of sight as his eyes settled on you as well. You sat in your seat quietly, sipping absentmindedly on your goblet of pumpkin juice as you watch Hermione and Ron converse heatedly about the condition of his ancient dress robes.

You open your mouth and make some kind of remark, which Harry can’t hear, but it caused Hermione to laugh whole-heartedly, which Ron soon joined in reluctantly, and even Ginny snickered to herself.

Harry beamed unconsciously. “She is lovely, isn’t she?” He sighed. McGonagall’s smile widened but Harry quickly caught himself.

“Oh, um, I mean, I could… ask Y/N. As friends, of course.” He added hastily. McGonagall’s smile slightly faltered but she continued nonetheless.

“I leave that decision up to you, Potter. But know this: the House of Godric Gryffindor has a reputation as long as it is illustrious. It demands and receives the respect of the entire wizard world. No house has produced more witches and wizards of consequence. You stand upon the shoulders of giants, Potter. Shame yourself and you shame all who came before you.”

Just then, a commotion was heard. Turning, McGonagall watched Seamus pelt Dean Thomas with a custard pie.

McGonagall’s face dropped.

So much for honoring the house of Gryffindor.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

The entire rank and file of Godric Gryffindor’s current roster- girls on one side, boys on the other, stood before a fierce McGonagall in what you could only conclude as some sort of dance class.

“You have to get a grip! Your behavior barely rises to the level of the common toadstool! I WILL NOT HAVE IT!”

The students exchanged nervous glances.

“Now. To dance is to let the body…” McGonagall took a deep breath as demonstration, “… breathe. Inside every girl a secret swan slumbers, longing to burst free and take flight. Inside each boy, a lordly lion, prepared to prance.” McGonagall illustrated.

“Something may be about to burst out of Eloise Midgen, but I don’t think it’s a swan.” Ron snickered.

“Mr. Weasley.”

“Yes?” Ron jumped and yelled his response, surprised to have been caught.

“Would you join me, please?” McGonagall glared intensely.

Ron glanced about in a panic, then slumped forward like a man heading to the gallows.

“Now then, if you will, put your left hand on my waist…”

“Where?!”

“My waist, Mr. Weasley.”

Grudgingly, Ron obeyed. As Fred and George whistle, Ron raised his right hand in a rude rejoinder when McGonagall closed her hand over his just in the nick of time.

“That’s right, extend your arm… and, Mr. Filch, if you would…”

Filch dropped the needle onto an old record player and a musty waltz filled the courtyard. Instantly, Neville smiled, bobbing his head, as if transported by the music.

“And one and two…” McGonagall kept the tempo skillfully.

“Oi!” Harry leaned back to Fred and George, who leaned forward to accommodate his height.

“Never going to let him forget this, are you?” Harry grinned. Fred and George shook their heads.

“Never. ” They replied incredibly in sync.

“Everyone! Come together…” McGonagall urged as she continued her waltz with a reluctant Ron.

The music swelled as the girls and boys nervously crossed the divide and began to pair off.

You shuffled anxiously through the crowd, watching as it seemed that every girl had a partner save for you.

You could feel your anxiety begin to spike and your self-esteem drop to an all-time low when-

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing over here all alone?”

You spun around quickly at the familiar voice and found the teasing face of Harry Potter standing before you. You sighed in relief.

“Oh, um… just observing, I guess.” You replied unconvincingly.

“Don’t observe. Come dance. I need practice.” Harry took your hand and led you to the floor.

Harry placed his his over your rib-cage while you placed your hands on his shoulder and in his other hand. You giggled.

“Harry, your hand goes on my waist, dear.” you mimicked McGonagall the best you could. Harry snorted with a faint flush dusting the apples of his cheeks in the most flattering way.

“I know.” He scoffed. You rolled your eyes and removed your hand from his shoulder to encase it over his wrist and pushed it down on to your lower waist.

“You do need practice, Potter.” you moved your feet according to the music as Harry clumsily attempted to mimic you. He did end up stepping quite harshly on your toes, however.

“Ow!” You gasped, removing your hands from him to hop on one foot.

“Sorry! I’m just… extremely uncoordinated.” Harry groaned at himself. You dusted off your now unpolished uniform shoe and waved him off assuringly.

“That’s what this class is for. Just follow my lead.” You nodded down to your feet and Harry followed your eyes.

“One, two, three… one, two, three…” You began softly as you moved slowly to accommodate Harry’s speed.

“How do you know so much about dancing?” Harry asked without taking his eyes from both of your feet.

“My parents are Muggles, I attended cotillion as a child.” you reminded with a smile. Harry looked up at you, realizing your faces were in very close proximity.

“Well… um… lucky me, I guess.” He chucked nervously. You beamed brightly at him, resulting in his heart jumping into his throat and being unable to keep himself quiet.

“Would you teach me how to dance?” He blurted instinctively. Your mind blanked for a moment as you were making sure you heard him correctly.

“I just… McGonagall told me not to embarrass Gryffindor and I thought that I should take some lessons from someone with dancing experience…” Harry avoided eye contact with you. Your heart sank into your stomach. Why on earth did you think he was going to ask you to be his date? You’re only friends.

“Oh, um… right, yeah. Sure. I’ll teach you a few things.” You tried to keep your voice from shaking, but the disappointment was clearly present.

Harry grinned half-heartedly. “Great.”

If only the both of you knew how much the other’s heart was sinking down into the depths of hopelessness.

You were beginning to think Gryffindor, known for courage, was not the house for you. You wondered what was going through the sorting hat’s mind when he placed you.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

After a few days of unsuccessfully acquiring a Yule Ball date, Harry made his way to the Owlery, which stood like a stranded scarecrow in a sea of white. Suddenly, an owl fluttered forth and Harry halted. Footsteps sounded and a figure descended the Owlery’s snow-laden stairs, flickering in and our of view. Seconds later, a girl appeared.

Cho.

“Harry.” Cho acknowledged.

“Cho.”

They stood awkwardly for a moment. Cho gestured all around. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” She questioned quietly. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, splendid.” he replied.

He glanced away, face hidden from Cho, and grimaced, mouthing ‘splendid’ in miserable mortification.

“Well, watch yourself on the stairs. A bit icy at the top.” Cho informed bashfully as she intended to make her leave.

“Okay. Thanks.” But as she smiled and turned, Harry pressed further. “Cho!”

He said this so forcefully, she nearly stumbled stopping. “Yes?”

“I just wondered if, maybe, you… wannagoballwime?”

“Sorry… I didn’t catch that?”

Harry collected himself with a deep inhale and repeated his question, “I wondered if you’d like to… to… go to the ball with me?”

Cho’s face fell grimly. “Oh. Harry. I’m sorry. But someone’s already asked me and I’ve said I’ll go. With him.”

“Oh. Well, good. I mean… okay. No problem.” Harry looked away, flexing his fingers within his mittens. Cho chewed her lip, frowning, then turned away. As she went, Harry exhaled, shaking his head, when-

“Harry?”

He looked up and saw her staring him straight in the eye.

“I really am… sorry.” She turned then, and Harry watched her dash back toward the distant castle, filling his footprints with her own.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

“Hermione! You’ll never believe what happened!” you rushed quickly to Hermione’s side the moment you entered the common room and found her in one of the comfortable arm chairs. She silently urged you to finish your statement.

“Dean Thomas asked me to the ball.” You bit your lip in excitement and Hermione beamed. “Congratulations! I knew you’d find a date in no time.” Hermione grinned.

From a distance, Harry could hear every word. His heart sank into his stomach. You were plan A, of course, but plan B ended up unfolding before he could stop himself. Now you weren’t a plan at all.

Suddenly, Ron tripped through the portrait hole, staggered across the room, and collapsed into a chair. He looked shell-shocked. Ginny, who’d accompanied him, fought hard to suppress a smile.

“What happened to you?” Harry asked curiously.

“He’s just asked out Fleur Delacour.” Ginny answered quickly.

“What?!”

“What’s she say?” Harry added before Hermione’s shock could be voiced further.

“No, of course.” Hermione guessed. But, in a pleat of doubt, “She did say no…?”

Ron shook his head.

“She said yes?!”

“Of course not! I don’t know what got into me. There she was… walking by… you know how I like it when they walk… and I couldn’t help it… it just sort of… slipped out.”

“Actually, he sort of screamed at her. It was a bit frightening.” Ginny grimaced.

“So what’d you do then?” Harry pushed.

“What else? I ran for it. I’m not cut out for this, Harry.” Ron groaned tiredly.

As they were all conversing, the Patil twins strode by, arm in arm with each other. They each glance at each other and in unison, “Hi Harry.” and they were gone as quickly as they had appeared.

Harry murmurs a half-hearted greeting before doing a double take in the direction they’d strode off in.

“Don’t worry. I think I’ve got an idea…”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

“Hello, boys.” The Patil twins greeted in unison.

Parvati and Padma, doubly delightful in shocking pink and bright turquoise respectively, waited below for their dates.

“Don’t you look… dashing.” Parvati’s eyes raked over Ron’s robes as she took Harry’s arm. Padma stared in open horror. Just then, McGonagall appeared, looking a bit flustered.

“There you are, Potter!” McGonagall called as she urgently made her way through the crowd to Harry and Ron.

“You and Miss Patil will wait here and enter with the other champions. Weasley…” she faltered, goggling at Ron’s robes, then collected herself.

“… you and Miss Patil may proceed inside, to the Great Hall.” she ushered them to the entrance.

“C'mon then.” As Ron dragged Padma off, she looked back desperately to her sister. Parvati just shook her head.

“We have a cousin who dresses like that.”

Just then, a gust of win stirred in the air and the Durmstrang and Beauxbaton students filed inside. As Fleur Delacour appeared, her silk wrap flew free, fluttering like a dove into the air, leading Harry’s eye to… Cho, who arrived hand in hand with Cedric Diggory.

“Omigod. She looks… Beautiful.” Parvati mumbled in disbelief.

Harry nodded glumly, staring at Cho, then realized Parvati was looking not at Cho, but a girl in blue robes.

Her hair was twisted in an elegant but messy knot with glittering butterfly barrettes littered amongst her locks to enhance the mystical facade, swan’s neck shining. She was simply ethereal. She was…

You.

“I know I’m late! Couldn’t figure out the button on the back of my dress.” You turned to demonstrate the intricate backing of your dress.

Harry remained speechless as you turned back around to face him with a wide smile. “You look handsome, my friend.” You slightly played with the collar of his dress robe, but Harry still didn’t utter a word.

“Close your mouth, Harry. We’re not a codfish.” You quoted one of your favorite Disney movies.

When he still didn’t reply, your teasing smile faltered for a worried expression. “Seriously, Harry. What’s wrong? Is my makeup smudged?” you patted your face to ensure that nothing was wrong.

“Oh! Nothing’s wrong… you just look…” Harry was quite unable to finish his sentence and you frowned.

“Is it that bad?” You looked down at your dress with your heart thumping in your chest.

“No, not at all. Quite the opposite actually… you’re stunning.” Harry’s eyes scanned you up and down. The smile returned to your features.

“Thank you… Hermione helped, of course.” You giggled bashfully.

“Well… erm, Dean is.. waiting for me so… I better go. I’m sure you’ll be expected to dance first.” You chewed the inside of your cheek anxiously, and Harry nodded.

“Right, yeah, you go. Have fun. I’ll see you later.” Harry’s arm was taken by Parvati. You nodded as well.

“See you.” You turned to disappear into the crowd to find your date. Harry watched you go longingly. Parvati smiled to herself, but said nothing nonetheless.

A path of light spilled from the Entrance Hall, revealing a darkened hall glimmering with icicles and mistletoe. The house tables had vanished, replaced by dozens of smaller ones, each glowing with lantern light around a central dance floor. Flitwick conducted a string quartet.

As the champions entered, applause arose. Fleur led the way, on the arms of a stunned-looking Ravenclaw boy (Roger Davies), while Harry and Parvati entered last, Parvati waving like a beauty queen. Harry scanned the room for Ron and found him, staring open-mouthed at Hermione as she passed with Krum.

“Is that Hermione Granger? With Viktor Krum?” Padma Patil was in shock.

“No. Absolutely not.” Ron denied with the curt shake of his head.

As the champions reached the dance floor, Flitwick’s baton froze in mid-air- bringing the hall to a hush.

“Take my waist.” Parvati urged forcefully when Harry didn’t move.

“Huh? Oh… right.” Harry places his hand on her waist and took her hand when Flitwick’s baton dropped and the waltz began.

“Go. Now!”

More out of fear than anything else, Harry took a step and then another. The music swelled. Fleur swept past, rigid as a queen. Next was Cho, dark eyes glimmering as they briefly met Harry’s own. Finally, Hermione- adrift in Krum’s strong arms- shot Harry a goofy, excited grin.

Dumbledore led McGonagall from the Tall Table and, with a short bow, swept her onto the floor, where they danced formally, beautifully. Quickly, the remainder of the staff paired off and joined them. Even Madame Maxime yielded to Hagrid and his horrible suit, though she casted her eyes askance while in his arms. Only Moody remained on the sidelines, eye whirling madly in time to the waltz.

Finally, the students converged, led by Neville, who glided like Astaire, much to the astonishment of his date- Ginny Weasley. Lost in the crush, Harry felt less self-conscious about his own clumsy feet and actually managed to smile.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Later in the evening, a jagged razor burn of guitars, courtesy of the Weird Sisters, shattered the calm as the dance floor was now a mosh pit, hopping with bodies.

Fred’s hand reached up and snapped off one of the icicles and slipped it down the back of Angelina’s robes and she squealed, darting after him, passing Hermione and Krum. Hermione yelled above the din.

“Her-my-oh-nee!”

“Herm… own… ninny?”

She started to correct him, then shrugged. “Close enough.”

Harry and Ron sat watching grimly from the sidelines, while Padma and Parvati sat on opposite sides of them, arms crossed in aggravation. Ron eyed Krum lethally.

“Ruddy pumpkinhead, isn’t he?” he grumbled.

Harry’s eyes shifted from yours and Dean’s gyrating figures.

“Well, I don’t think it was the books that had him going to the library.”

A handsome Durmstrang boy approached Parvati, who looked ready to put a gun to her head.

“May I haff your arm?”

“Arm. Leg. I’m yours.” Parvati exited eagerly, following the boy at his heels.

Harry watched as Hermione pulled you from the crowd and your date, both with beautiful smiles as you approached the boys. Hermione dropped into Parvati’s vacant chair, flush from dancing. You stood awfully close to Harry, causing him to tense.

“Whew! Hot, isn’t it? Viktor and Dean have gone to get drinks. Care to join us?” Hermione asked cheerfully.

“No, we would not care to join you and… Viktor.” Ron spat his name like venom, and Hermione’s smile disappeared along with your own.

“What’s got your wand in a knot?” Hermione seemed offended.

“He’s from Durmstrang! You’re fraternizing with the enemy!” Ron accused loudly. You scoffed.

“The enemy? Who was it wanting his autograph? Besides, the whole point of the Tournament is international magical cooperation. To make friends.” Hermione clarified angrily.

“I think he’s got a bit more than friendship in mind.” Ron grumbled to himself. Your mouth dropped open.

“What are you suggesting?” your voice had dropped an octave, indicating your aggravation.

Harry spun around to face you, and instead of voicing his jealousy, voiced his frustration.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? With Dean as well. You’re friends with Margaret Stone, aren’t you? That’s who Dean’s really after. Heard him talking about it the other day.” Harry huffed and sat back in his seat with crossed arms.

It wasn’t a total lie; Harry had heard Dean talking about Margaret Stone, but it wasn’t the other day. It was about a year ago.

You stood taken aback by Harry’s words. Not once had you heard him speak in this tone of voice, especially to you.

“W-… what do you mean?” You could feel your voice wavering as Hermione looked up at you.

“Y/N. He doesn’t mean it.” She urged. Harry stood.

“Well, of course I meant it! You’re easy enough to go out with and get closer to Stone without a second glance from anyone. Thought you were smarter than that. Aren’t you supposed to be like Hermione?” Harry’s arms remained crossed as he glared at you with fury.

But he quickly regretted his words when he watched as your eyes welled up with tears, threatening to spill over as you bit your bottom lip to keep from quivering.

“Y/N?”

You turned to see Dean with two drinks in hand, looking confused between you and Harry. “What’s going on?”

You choked on a sob that threatened to rip through your throat and dashed off, brushing past Dean on your way. Hermione glared at both Ron and Harry before jumping up to chase after you. “Y/N! That’s not true!” She called after you.

Dean spared Harry and confused glance before turning off in the same direction to follow you.

“Are you going to ask me to dance or not?” Padma asked Ron as she sulked.

“No.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As Ron and Harry exited, after the fiasco with Hermione, Ron broke off by himself in a rage. Harry found himself alone, Parvati no where to be found, not that he cared at all where she was.

He rounded the corner out of the Great Hall and found you, leaning against a wall and dabbing under your eyes so as to keep your tears from ruining your makeup.

The two of you make eye contact and you froze.

“Y/N-”

“No, don’t touch me.” you jerked away from his grip like you’d been burnt with a ragged breath, avoiding eye contact with him.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I didn’t mean it like that…” Harry began slowly, gauging your reaction.

“Harry, you humiliated me in front of Ron and his date, your date, and Hermione, and might as well have embarrassed me in front of Dean.” You moved to cover your face with your hand to hide your expression.

Though Harry knows what he’d done, the thought still made his heart wrench. He’d made you cry, and he never wanted to be the cause of that, not now, not ever.

“That’s… not what I meant to do.” Harry sighed in spite of himself.

You looked away from dabbing under your eyes and up at Harry, watching as his face filled with genuine concern.

“What did you mean, then?” you sniffled, averting your eyes to the ground as you gripped your heels in your hand.

Harry was taken aback at your question. You were giving him a chance to explain himself. He wasn’t daft enough to waste this opportunity.

“I was just frustrated, and I wanted to look out for you… I didn’t want you to get hurt.” Harry’s shoulders slouched as he began to explain himself. You slowly gained the courage to glance up at him as he spoke.

You exhaled deeply, “Dean was overrated, anyway…” you sniffled again, a small smile spreading across your face.

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed with confusion. You sighed exaggeratedly and threw yourself at Harry and wrapped your arms around his neck, your cheek pressed against his shoulder.

Harry grunted and stumbled back from the impact, his arms wrapping themselves around your form. He let out a breath he didn’t know had been stuck in his throat at your action, but smiled nonetheless.

“This whole night has been a disaster. Take me home, Harry.” you buried your face into his robe as you let your eyes relax and your tired brain rest.

“Oh, um, okay…” Harry gave a brief stroke to your slightly more messy, but still gracefully decorated hair.

“But you’ve gotta help me out, here.” Harry chuckled as he attempted to lift you. You groaned and secured your arms more tightly around his neck and jumped, allowing Harry’s arm to fold under your legs and hoist you up, bridal style.

He managed to bring you the rest of the way to the common room, but you somehow managed to fall asleep on the journey. Harry chuckled to himself when he noticed you’d gone limp and your jaw had fallen slack.

Through that disaster of a night, Harry learned that all friends fight, but the ones who stayed true were the ones that persisted.

He only hoped that his friendship with you would be a result of persistence.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Fifth Year

Harry quietly dismissed the weekly gathering of Dumbledore’s Army for the Christmas holiday. The progress they’d made was impeccable, incredible, and some might dare say, unfathomable.

Though, the tragic death of Cedric Diggory in the past year at Hogwarts had taken a tole on every student, especially one student in particular; Cho Chang.

She remained in the classroom, staring longingly at a cut-out clipping of Cedric’s portrait when he’d participated in the Triwizard Tournament that was taped to a musty mirror.

Harry approached her from behind, cautious so as to not startle her.

“Are you alright?” He asked carefully, keeping his voice as level as he could.

“I heard Umbridge gave you a rough time the other day.” He continued when he knew he had her attention.

“Yeah, I’m okay.” Cho glanced down at her scaring hand, matching many other trouble makers in the school.

“Anyways, it was worth it.” Her gaze returned to Cedric’s, the moving picture smiled back at them as if it knew they were watching it.

“It’s just… it’s just, learning all this… makes me wonder, whether he’d known it.” Cho observed the room carefully with a longing expression. Harry was quick to assure her.

“Cedric- Cedric did know this stuff. He was really good. It’s just… Voldemort was better.” Harry decided on.

Cho cast her eyes down to the floor, then back up at Harry. “You’re a really good teacher, Harry.” In response, Harry smiled shortly.

“I’ve never been able to stun anything before.” Cho grinned cheekily

A faint rustling came from above the two, causing Cho to look up curiously. What she spotted was mistletoe, curiously growing from the ceiling above them with haste.

“Mistletoe.” Cho whispered quietly. Harry was still fascinated by the plant’s growth above them.

His eyes returned to Cho’s face, but couldn’t think of anything worth saying. “Probably full of Nargles, though.” He blurted.

“What are Nargles?” Cho asked with confusion. Harry shrugged.

“No idea.” They wasted no more time and brought themselves together to seal the silence in a tender kiss. Harry’s first, it happened to be.

“Sorry to barge in, but I forgot my-”

You stopped dead in your tracks when you found the couple snogging in the middle of the practice room. You found yourself speechless as your heart shattered into thousands of pieces at the sight.

Harry and Cho separated immediately when they both acknowledged your presence. “Oh… Y/N.” Harry scratched the nape of his neck and avoided eye contact with you.

“Dear Merlin, I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” you were quick in putting up a facade of nonchalance as you frantically searched for the tie you’d recently shed when practicing spells with the group.

“It’s alright… no harm done.” Harry threw a worried glance in Cho’s direction as you find your tie.

“This was all I came for. Again, I apologize for the disturbance- I’ll be going now- Oh!” in your haste to back away, you’d knocked yourself into the wall near the entrance. You laughed nervously and rubbed the back of your head to soothe it.

“My bad, wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m leaving now.” You spun around on your heel and rounded the corner quickly, sprinting down the hallway and back to the common room as quickly as you could carry yourself.

As both Harry and Cho watched you disappear, Harry let out a long sigh. Cho turned to him. “Was that Y/N L/N?” she asked curiously. As Harry began to pack his things, he nodded.

“Yeah… it was.” Harry nodded towards the entrance as he stowed his wand away. Cho nodded grimly.

“She seemed upset.” Cho acknowledged as she watched Harry move about the room.

“Did she?” Harry questioned. Although, he had noticed your odd behavior but thought nothing of it.

“Yes, quite jealous, actually.” Cho hummed in thought.

Harry pondered that a moment. Jealous? You? Of him? Impossible.

“Yeah, right.” Harry scoffed. Though he didn’t mean anything by it, of course.

“I always thought you liked her.” Cho carefully worded her statement as she watched Harry’s back tense.

“I guess.” Harry shrugged shortly. His tone was becoming curt and short.

“Then… why are you here with me? Not going after her?” Cho gestures to the entrance to the classroom. Harry follows her gesture with his eyes and contemplated this a moment.

The next thing he knew, he’d thrown his bag over his shoulder and quickly departed with a “thank you” thrown in Cho’s direction as he hurried away.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Sixth Year

Harry peered through ripples of an imperfect windowpane in the Weasley’s Burrow, studying the others down below. A floorboard creaked. He turned and watched you emerge into the light, in a robe, twisting your wet hair into a towel.

“Everyone gone to bed?” You asked nonchalantly as you approached Harry.

“Soon.” Harry nodded.

“I don’t sleep these days. So I wash my hair. Silly, right?” you giggled at yourself, folding the towel over your arm

Harry just stared at you, the air prickling with silence. You eyed him knowingly.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” You grinned sweetly.

Down below, Lupin continued to peer into the reeds. His pupils contracted.

“Sweetheart…” Tonks approached him.

“There’s someone out there. I can smell him. There’s more than one-”

“Suddenly, throughout the reeds, torches blazed.

Back on the second floor, the rippled window behind Harry blushed with light. Your eyes shifted from Harry to the trees beyond.

"Oh my god…”

Harry turned, his breath fogging the windowpane as, far below, flames snuck out of the reeds and slithered toward the house. Bellatrix emerged, peering up through the darkness toward Harry’s silhouette, a mad grin on her face. As she shrieked eerily, his eyes flashed with hatred.

Harry burst through the front door, wand draw, and pelted toward Bellatrix. She grinned, turned, and vanished into the reeds.

“Harry, no!” Arthur Weasley called urgently as he disappeared into the reeds.

Flames raced up the porch steps and climbed the walls of the house. Lupin drew his wand and raced after Harry.

“Remus!” Tonks called.

Ron, Fred, and George appeared and joined Arthur as he dashed toward the smoking marsh. Arthur glanced back as you emerged.

“Y/N, stay with Molly!”

Without hesitation, you raced for the reeds.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry careened through the marsh, reeds flashing past, then spied Bellatrix. She grinned, looking like a crazed wood nymph, then flitted off, her laughter mocking him. As he pursued, fire snaked through the reeds toward him.

Fred, George, Ron, and Arthur fanned out, running full-out, their feet kicking up sparks as shadows splintered throughout the reeds. It was like chasing ghosts.

You raced through the reeds, (h/c) hair gleaming.

Bellatrix lead Harry on, grinning madly.

You came dashing to a halt, chest heaving as you peered into the smoking marsh. A huge figure quivered through a veil of smoke. You eyes shifted, saw Bellatrix racing forward through the reeds, then shifted back as the veil of smoke evaporated and revealed… Greyback.

Bellatrix made an odd, clicking noise, like a signal, and Greyback edged forward, sweeping away reeds in front of him and revealing…

… Harry as he pelted forward.

“No, Harry! It’s a trap!”

Harry faltered, looking toward your voice and spied Greyback. Bellatrix stopped dead, wheeled in her tracks, and seeing you, shrieked with rage. Raising her wand, she fired a bolt of red light which exploded in a shower of sparks around you. You shrieked and ducked, but fired back and wheeled away, flashing through the reeds and coming face to face with-

Greyback, sharp teeth glittering.

“Don’t you smell clean.”

Your breath caught in your throat as you stared up at him in pure terror.

Just then, a bolt of blue burst off Greyback’s back and he turned, seeing Harry standing several yards off. As Greyback gave a chase, you pelted after, both of your breaths shortening until…

Greyback rushed into a clearing, panting, glancing about.

Just then, twin bolts of light blasted from opposite sides of the clearing and Greyback was lifted in the air and slammed to the ground. As he regained his feet, he looked into the reeds and saw you and Harry, wands poised. He grinned… when Bellatrix’s odd, clicking signal carried through the night once again. Turning away, he disappeared.

You and Harry slowly stepped out of the reeds and stared at each other wordlessly. You let out a whimper and threw yourself at Harry, wrapping your arms around his middle in relief. He immediately reciprocated, his arms flying to hold you steady and stroke through your hair. It oddly reminded you of your experience at the Yule Ball, your mind flashing back to when you threw yourself at Harry after hearing his side of the story. You breathed a shaky sigh into his chest and Harry rested his chin atop your head.

Then… Ron, Fred, George, Arthur, and Lupin came thrashing into the clearing and stopped. All around them, the reeds smoked, the flames dying. Across the marsh, Bellatrix’s cackle rose briefly on the air- then all was quiet.

“You’re lucky you two weren’t killed.”

Hermione. Who else?

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Present…

This all brings you to today.

How did you end up sitting in Xenophilius Lovegood’s home, reading a children’s tail about the Deathly Hallows in the middle of what was supposed to be your seventh year at Hogwarts? You’ll never know.

You’ve all just finished listening to Hermione read from the Tales of the Beedle Bard children’s book of wizarding fairytales.

Xenophilius Lovegood stares out out the window. The sun has nearly vanished over the lip of the hill.

“Well, there you are. Those are the Deathly Hallows.”

Harry glances around the room, still confused.

“Sorry… I still don’t really understand.” He shrugs.

Lovegood turns and, taking quill and parchment, draws a straight vertical line…

“The Elder Wand…”

… then adds a circle on top of the line…

“The Resurrection Stone.”

… then encloses both in a triangle.

“The Cloak of Invisibility. Together… they make the Deathly Hallows. Together… they make one master of Death.”

The four of you stare at the symbol in disbelief.

“Mr. Lovegood, does the Peverell family have anything to do with the Deathly Hallows?” You asked curiously. You noticed Ron, Harry, and Hermione staring at you in curiosity.

“That was the name of the grave with the mark on it in Godric’s Hollow. Ignotus Peverell.” You clarified with detail.

“Ignotus and his brothers Cadmus and Antioch are thought to be the original owners of the Hallows and therefore the inspiration for the story.” Lovegood’s focus abruptly wavered, sadness in his eyes, then blinks, eyeing the tea kettle.

“Ah, but your tea’s grown cold. Excuse me, I’ll be right back.” Lovegood heads downstairs with the tea kettle in hand.

As Lovegood exits, Ron speaks. “Let’s get out of here once he’s back. I’m not touching this stuff, hot or cold.” Ron grimaced at his cup of half-empty tea. You nodded in agreement.

“Which one would you choose if you could? Of the Deathly Hallows?” Harry asks the group, lost in thought.

“It’s obvious, isn’t it?” Hermione glances around.

All four of your speak at once:

“The Wand.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Cloak.”

“The Stone.”

You all glance at each other, amused. You and Hermione share a look, knowingly. You’d each picked the cloak for a reason.

“You’re supposed to say the Cloak, but who wants to spend all day being invisible? Dead boring if you ask me. But an unbeatable wand!” Ron grinned.

“Its owner grew drunk with power and was murdered.” Hermione raises an eyebrow at Ron accusingly.

“Yeah, but imagine what a short wicked life you’d lead.” Ron counters.

Hermione rolls her eyes. “Why the Stone, Harry?” she directs her question to Harry now.

“Well, you could bring people back, couldn’t you? Mad-Eye. Dumbledore. Sirius. Anybody.” Harry shrugged.

“But according to the story, they don’t want to come back. It’s all rubbish, anyway. There’s no such thing as the Deathly Hallows.” Hermione’s counter is gentle.

“But I have one. The Invisibility Cloak my father left me.” Harry reminds quickly.

“There have always been Cloaks-”

“Not like Harry’s. I’ve seen a fair few. Dad used to bring home the ones the Ministry confiscated from petty thieves and the like. They always got holes or tears. Harry’s is different. It’s perfect.” Ron explains before Hermione can finish.

“And I think I’ve actually held the Resurrection Stone in my hands, that night in Dumbledore’s office when he showed me the ring he’d destroyed, the Horcrux. It had a symbol on it. Now I think it was the mark of the Hallows.

The four of you stand silently when Lovegood returns.

"Mr. Lovegood. Thank you, sir-”

“You forgot the water.” Ron points to the tea kettle.

“The water?” Lovegood inquires.

“For the tea.” Ron raises an eyebrow as if it were obvious.

“Did, didn’t I? How silly of me?” Lovegood breaks out into a nervous smile.

“No matter, sir. We really ought to be go-”

“No, you mustn’t!” Lovegood panics, his hands searching for any type of purchase on any surface he can find.

“Sir?” Harry questions.

“You’re my only hope. They were angry, you see, about what I’d been writing, so they took her. They took my Luna…” Lovegood’s eyes find Harry with malicious intent. “But it’s really you they want…”

“Who took her, sir?” You try gently.

Hermione eyes the print press. A copy of the Quibbler lies stuck under a roller. She reaches out and pulls it free, the ink streaking over the cover, over Harry’s face and the blazing headline: UNDESIRABLE NUMBER #1.

“Him. Surely you call him You-Know-Who. But his real name is of course… Voldemort.”

As if on cue, instantly, out the window, figures on broomsticks appeared in the sky, getting directly toward the house. As you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione hit the floor, ropes of light ricochet off the windowsill. The printing press explodes, raining Quibblers everywhere, like a flock of doves, smoking with flames. Lovegood waves madly from the window.

“Stop! I’ve got him-”

Lovegood is blasted off his feet by a stunning spell so great the chain around his neck flies across the room and settles at your feet. You glance down, watching the symbol of the Deathly Hallows dissolve like mercury, then looked up, seeing Lovegood streak out the door.

“Ron, Harry, Y/n! Take my hand!”

You, Harry, and Ron begin to crawl on your knees toward Hermione when another volley of spells ricochet about the room and- ping!- strike the Gurdyroot teapot. As Hermione watches, it flies into the air, tumbling end over end toward the Erumpent Horn. Harry’s hand closes on hers, then Ron’s, you reach out and…

… the teapot strikes the Erumpent Horn.

There is a colossal explosion. The second floor of the black cylinder ruptures. Quibblers belch into the air like confetti as Lovegood narrowly escapes and the Death Eaters are engulfed and you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione…

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ … tumble and roll to your feet, barely visible in the darkness.

“That treacherous old bleeder! Is there no one we can trust?!” Ron grumbles as he dusts himself off.

“They’ve kidnapped Luna because he supported Harry. He was just desperate.” You explain softly.

Ron says nothing, then spits, clearing the grit from his teeth and peers toward the river. Unlike the raging force it was the last time you were here, it is a little more than a trickle now. The trees are eerily quiet.

“I’ll do the enchantments.”

Ron takes out his wand… when you raise your hand, stopping him. You eyes rise. Your breath catches. Ron, Harry, and Hermione look. Clinging to the branches of the trees above, almost as if part of the trees themselves, are…

Snatchers.

A wand blooms above and illuminates the face of Scabior. Your red scarf, now faded and filthy, dangles from his neck. He presses it to his grimy nose, inhales, and grins.

“Hello, beautiful.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡ The four of you dash through the trees.

You flicker through the trees, swift as the wind, as Scabior pursues you.

Harry slashes through the river, looks up, and sees a Snatcher leap across the divide from one tree to another.

Ron pounds through thick brush, over a fallen tree.

Hermione expertly avoids sticks and stones covering the forest floor, her focus unwavering.

The forest grows more dense, the shadows thicken. Spells splinter through the trees, ropes of light lace the night.

Hermione stumbles, but regains her footing and finds herself in a clearing. You come along not long after, glancing at her with panic. Another figure pelts towards the two of you: Harry.

You all freeze briefly, then the clearing explodes with light as spells ricochet. They hit the ground. You hear the snatchers closing in.

You look to Harry. The tip of your wand glows and your face blooms in the darkness, looking mildly demonic. You reach out, strip his glasses from his face, then point your wand… at him. A burst of white light strikes him in the eyes. As your wand goes dark…

… he is flying toward a fortress, gliding around the high walls, up to the topmost window of the highest tower. He passes through the window- little more than a slit- and…

…finds a skeletal figure lying beneath a ragged blanket. The figure stirs, looks up, and grins with broken teeth. It is the young man- the thief- grown old. Grindelwald.

“Ah, Tom, I thought you would come one day. But surely you must know I no longer have what you seek.”

A shadow- Voldemort’s- falls across Grindelwald.

“If not you, then who?”

“You’re so innocent, Tom. Like a schoolboy. There’s so much you don’t understand.”

“Tell me, Grindelwald. Tell me where to find it! Tell me who possesses it! The name, Grindelwald! The name!”

“Can’t you guess, Tom? It lies within him, of course. Buried within the earth. It is he who possesses it, even in death. Your old friend and mine… Dumbledore.”

Harry blinks and in a swollen blur, peers at you and whispers quickly.

“They exist. The Hallows.”

You and Hermione look at him expectantly. He nods, his face shrouded in shadow, barely visible.

“But he only wants the one, the last one. That’s what he’s been looking for.”

“What are you saying?”

“He knows where it is, You-Know-Who. He’ll have it by the end of the night. He’s found the Elder Wand.”

As you and Hermione stare in stunned disbelief, figures emerge from the trees. Ron is shoved to the ground next to them. Scabior strips you, Hermione, and Harry of your wands.

“Don’t touch her!” Harry exclaims urgently. A fist hits Harry hard. It’s Greyback.

“Stop it!” You gasp desperately.

“Your boyfriend’ll get worse than that if he doesn’t behave, lovely.” Scabior grins misshapenly.

Scabior paints your face with light then casts it on Harry. Harry peers up, his eyes swollen to slits, his face horribly misshapen.

“What happened to you, ugly?” Scabior grimaces.

Harry’s hand finds his face, feeling the lumps.

“What’s your name?”

“Dudley. Vernon Dudley.” Harry blurts quickly.

“Check the list. And you, ginger?”

“Stan Shunpike.” Ron grumbles.

“Like 'ell you are. We know skinny Stan. Try again.” Scabior scoffs.

Greyback, his boot to Ron’s neck, presses harder.

“Weasley… Barney Weasley.” Ron makes up the name on the spot.

“Weasley, eh? Wouldn’t be related to that blood traitor Arthur Weasley, would you?”

“Piss off! Arthur Weasley’s ten times the wizard you are!” Ron struggles.

“Worth ten times you if I can find him. Wasn’t you that tipped him off, was it?” Scabior growls. Ron stays mute. Scabior turns to Hermione.

“You?” He asks quickly.

“Penelope Clearwater. Half-blood.” Hermione struggles in the snatcher’s grip.

Scabior turns to you with a sickly sweet grin.

“How 'bout you, lovely? What do they call you…?”

You jerk away from his finger under your chin and glare.

“Lavender. Brown. Pure blood.” you whisper quietly.

Scabior strokes the nape of your neck, then takes your hair in hand, sniffing it. You groan at his proximity.

“You smell like vanilla, Lavender. I think you’re going to be my favorite.” He grins.

“There’s no Vernon Dudely on 'ere.” A snatcher waves a book in the air.

Reluctantly, Scabior turns from you to Harry.

“Hear that, ugly? The list says you’re lying. How come you don’t want us to know who you are? Hm?”

“The list is wrong. I told you who I am-”

Scabior puts a finger to his lips, silencing Harry, his wand probing Harry’s face more closely.

“Change of plans, boys. We won’t be taking this lot to the Ministry.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Scabior and the others escort you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione past the yew hedges of the Malfoy Manor. You eye the white peacock, looking like a ghostly lawn ornament. Harry whispers to you.

“What did you put on me?” He inquires.

“A Stinging Jinx.” You inform quietly.

“How long will it last?”

“Not long.”

Harry glances down and sees his glasses cupped in your palm. As he slips them into his pocket, the group suddenly slows. Up ahead, on the other side of the gate, Bellatrix, Lucius, and Narcissa approach. Scabior grabs Harry’s arm and pushes his face up to the iron bars.

Bellatrix steps close. “Show me.”

Scabior reaches out his dirty fingers and pushes Harry’s hair roughly off his forehead.

Bellatrix shines her wand. Despite the swelling, one intriguing feature can be seen: a scar, in the shape of a lightning bolt. Bellatrix studies it long and hard… then smiles.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

As Bellatrix leads the procession inside, she speaks to Narcissa.

“Get Draco.”

Narcissa eyes her sister briefly, warily, then strides off, toward the brightly-lit room ahead, where her husband Lucius stands, cradling a nearly-empty wine glass.

“Why Draco?” Lucius inquires. Narcissa passes her husband without a word.

“Just sit back and watch, Lucius. Hm? Pour yourself another glass of wine.” As she passes, she flicks her finger off the rim of his glass.

Bellatrix turns, eyeing you, Harry, Ron, and Hermione.

“Where’d you find them?” She begins.

“In the North Forest.” Scabior answers.

Wormtail quietly enters the room. As Harry eyes him, Bellatrix pauses, studying his scar again.

“Lovely scarf, Scabior. Though I’m not sure it’s your color.” Bellatrix teases.

“It’s not mine.”

“You don’t say.” Her eyes slide, catching him looking to you.

“Fancy her, do you, Scabior? Can’t say I blame you. Maybe we’ll work out a little reward for you, hm? That is, assuming all is as it appears. Ah, Draco. Come here, darling.”

From the shadows at the far end of the room, Draco separates from Narcissa and steps cautiously forward.

“My friends here say they’ve got Harry Potter. Seeing as he’s an old school chum of yours, I thought you could confirm the fact for us.”

Draco stares at Harry.

“Well…?” Bellatrix urges.

“I can’t… I can’t be sure.” Draco grimaces. Lucius steps forward, wine glass sloshing.

“Look close, Draco. If we’re the ones who hand Potter over to the Dark Lord, everything will be forgiven. Do you understand-”

“Now, we won’t be forgetting who actually caught him, I hope, Mr. Malfoy?” Scabior reminds, quietly menacing.

“Of course not.” Bellatrix’s eyes harden. “Narcissa. Tend to your husband.”

Lucius staggers back nervously next to his wife.

“Don’t be shy, sweetheart. Get up nice and close.” Bellatrix nudges Draco forward until he’s only inches from Harry.

“What’s wrong with his face?” Draco grimaces as he gets a closer look at Harry.

“Yes, what is wrong with his face, Scabior?” Bellatrix cranes her neck to look up at the snatchers.

“He came to us that way. I reckon he picked it up in the forest.” Scabior shrugged.

“Or ran into a Stinging Jinx.”

You feel your heart clench as you cast your eyes downward. Bellatrix notices your destress and her eyes flash, stepping up close to you.

“Was it you, dearie? Give me her wand. We’ll see what the last spell was.”

You’re alarmed as the Snatcher steps forward.

“What is that?” Bellatrix’s tone is quietly murderous. She pushes past Scabior and Greyback and steps before another Snatcher.

Your beaded purse dangles from one hand. In the other, he holds… the Sword of Gryffindor.

“It was in her bag when we searched her. Reckon it’s mine now.”

Bang! Quick as lightning, Bellatrix stuns the Snatcher and catches the sword as he drops. Scabior wheels.

“Are you mad?!” Bang! Bellatrix drops Scabior to his knees before his wand escapes his cloak. He bellows in fury.

“How dare you! Release me, woman!”

Bellatrix stares at him, eyes full of fire, then flicks her wand as he slumps forward, wincing.

“Go. GO!”

Scabior eyes her resentfully, then exits with Greyback an the others. Bellatrix turns.

“Wormtail. Put these three in the cellar. I want to have a little conversation with this one. Girl to girl.”

“No!” Hermione steps forward and covers your body with her own, staring Bellatrix down with confidence. Bellatrix merely smirks.

“Fine. Put the boys in the cellar, then. We’ll have a girl talk.”

As Wormtail jerks them away, Harry’s eyes flash with panic and meet yours. You mouth, “It’s okay.”

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Wormtail prods Harry and Ron down a steep flight of stairs and slams the door. Ron throws himself against it and turns to Harry.

“Harry! What’re we going to do? We can’t just leave them alone with her!”

“Ron…? Harry…?”

Harry peers into the small, shadow space below and senses movement.

“Luna…?” ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Bellatrix twirls a silver dagger in her fingers.

“This sword is meant to be in my vault at Gringotts. How did you get it?” Bellatrix pins you to the floor as Hermione lays motionless beside you, watching helplessly.

You draw in a shaky, sobbing breath as you try to regain your composure as you cry out. “I didn’t take it!” You exclaim desperately.

“Liar!” Bellatrix moves to your arm and slices open the skin in a rhythmic fashion, carving a word out of your skin. You let out a scream in agony and struggle in her grip, shrieking as your skin burns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Harry eyes Ollivander cautiously, when Bellatrix’s voice echoes through the vent.

“I’m going to ask you once again: what else did you and your friends take from my vault?!”

Harry’s heart nearly shatters when he hears your sobbing response.

“I told you! I don’t know what you’re talking-” you scream in pain. Harry slams his fist against the wall and turns.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Hermione whimpers as she watches Bellatrix’s use of the Cruciatus curse on you for answers. You let our a piercing wail of anguish as she strikes you again.

“Stop it, please.” Hermione lets out a gentle sob and whisper as she watches you struggle to keep sane.

♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡        ♡

Quickly, cautiously, Harry and Ron, now brandishing Wormtail’s wand, pad toward the main room as Dobby, the newest arrival, slips off in another direction. As Ron steps past the lifeless Snatcher without a glance, Harry hesitates and glances down.

Something flutters weakly in the Snatcher’s pocket. The tip of a golden wing. Harry crouches and looks; it’s the Snitch.

“Sss.”

Harry looks up and sees Ron gesturing for him. Quickly, he takes the Snitch and slips it into his pocket.

Harry joins Ron as the watch Bellatrix, who comes into view, towering over Griphook, who holds the sword, studying it. You lie at Bellatrix’s feet. Seeing you, Harry begins to lurch forward. Ron restrains him.

“Well?”

“I left Gringotts employ many weeks ago, but when I was last in your vault, the sword was there.”

Hermione studies the two and then watches as a strand of Bellatrix’s hair drifts free and, as if in a dream, floats through the air…

“Perhaps it just walked out on its own then.”

“There is no place safer than Gringotts, Madam Lestrange.”

… and catches on Hermione’s shirt.

“Liar! You can’t deceive me!” Bellatrix slashes the dagger across Griphook’s cheek and a deep gash opens. He barely flinches, the hint of a smile on his lips. Bellatrix looks mildly unnerved by his reaction.

“Consider yourself lucky, Goblin. The same won’t be said for this one.” Bellatrix poises the dagger over you and pushes your limp body with her pointed heel. You whimper at the contact to your sore body and flip over at her command.

“Like hell!”

Bellatrix wheeled, seeing Harry pelting forward.

“Expelliarmus!”

Bellatrix’s dangling wand shoots free and tumbles end over end, right into Harry’s hand.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius Malfoy drops instantly, his wine glass shattering in a burgundy bloom on the hearth. Narcissa and Draco draw their wands. Jets of light spray across the room.

Hermione had been snatched up by Ron at this point, but no one was able to get to you.

“Stop or she dies!”

Harry, Ron, and Hermione freeze and see you leaning limply against Bellatrix, the dagger at your throat.

“Drop your wands.” Bellatrix commands.

Harry stands rigidly, staring balefully at Bellatrix. She presses the dagger into your neck enough for a small cut.

“Ah!” you exclaim painfully.

“I said drop them!”

“All right!” Harry grunts angrily.

Ron flings away Wormtail’s wand, Harry drops Bellatrix’s.

“Pick them up, Draco. Now! Well, well, look what we have here. Harry Potter. All bright, shiny and new again. Just in time for the Dark Lord.”

Harry glances in the mirror opposite and sees that the stinging jinx is wearing off.

“Call him, Draco.”

Draco hesitates. But Lucius doesn’t, pulling up his sleeve and touching his finger to the Dark Mark on his forearm. Harry’s scar constricts and he grimaces in agony. Bellatrix cackles maniacally, her knife pressed against the tender flesh of your neck. A bead of blood bubbles on the blade and then… and grinding noise in heard. Harry glances up and sees the chandelier begin to tremble. As the tinkle of glass fills the room, Bellatrix stares directly upward, watching as…

… the chandelier bursts free of the ceiling and plummets. Bellatrix bolts and you stagger clear, falling into Harry’s arms. His arms immediately reciprocate and you fall into that familiar memory once again. Your body is sore and limp, but there’s no where you would rather be than in his arms at this moment.

Griphook grabs the sword as glass explodes in razor-sharp slivers, Draco screams and covers his bloody face. Harry wrests the blood-soaked wands from his hands after transferring you to Ron and Hermione and, wheeling, points all three at Lucius.

“Stupefy!”

Lucius flies off his feet and drops in a heap.

“You dirty little monkey! You could have killed me!”

Harry turns and sees Bellatrix raging at Dobby. The elf stands fearlessly across from her, defiant.

“Dobby never meant to kill. Dobby only meant to maim… or seriously injure.

"For God’s sake, Cissy, you’ve got a wand! Use it!”

Narcissa hesitates. Crack!- Dobby waves his little fist and Narcissa’s wand flies from her hand.

“How dare you take a witch’s wand! How dare you defy your masters!”

“Dobby has no master! Dobby is a free elf, and Dobby has come to save Harry Potter and his friends!”

Harry tosses Ron and wand, grabs your beaded bag, and joins the others in the center of the room.

“Give the Dark Lord our regards.” You call out weakly with a cheeky smile.

Harry almost smiles back at you. You always have to have the last word.

His hand closes on Dobby’s and the drawing room begins to spin. Bellatrix’s face twists into an ugly blur. Her arm rises, dagger in hand. There is a flash of silver. Then all goes black for a long time.

Then…

… with a great WHOOSH, Harry and the others tumble onto solid earth and hear the crash of waves.

As Harry staggers to his feet as the stars whirl above him. He sees he is on a cliff overlooking a dark sea.

Ron holds Hermione gently. Tears sting her eyes.

You feel a sharp pain in your stomach and your breath hitches.

You can already begin to feel life leaving your body as you become numb to the pain.

“It’s all right, Hermione. You’re safe. We’re all safe.” Harry begins to assure as he searches for you.

She doesn’t respond, nor Ron. Then Harry realizes they are looking past him, even Dobby and Griphook, the sword hanging limply in his hand.

Harry turns.

You stand alone, a queer smile on your face, hand resting just below your chest, the hilt of Bellatrix’s dagger protruding between your fingers.

Hermione opens her mouth and lets out a blood-curdling scream at the sight of you. She covers her mouth with one hand and tears spill from her eyes as Ron holds her tightly.

“Y/N… no…”

As Harry rushes to you, you crumple in his arms, your eyes rolling up to the stars.

“It’s okay… here… just hold on, Y/N. I’ll fix you- Hermione- her bag- Essence of Dittany- something… Hermione! Help me!”

Harry is desperate now as he watches you become more and more lifeless in his arms. He can’t watch you go now, not like this. Not when they are so incredibly close.

Hermione merely stands, tears streaking her cheeks.

“Don’t worry about me, Harry.” You manage. Harry’s face contorts in a sob.

“No, but I have to worry about you! You’re dying! Please… help.” Harry searches frantically for anything.

“I would say something witty… but my mind is blank.” you manage a chuckle as you reach up to grip Harry’s arm. Harry yanks your hand and brings it up to his cheek and nuzzles himself against your palm with closed eyes.

“Hey, look at me.” You stroke his cheek the best you can manage. Harry opens his eyes and stares down into your paling eyes, his own flooding with tears.

“You’re gonna be alright, I promise.” you whisper gently.

“I never meant for you to get caught up in all of this. I promise.” Harry draws in a shaky breath and squints his eyes shut.

It has to be a dream, he’s going to wake up any moment to you shaking him awake in the tent and telling him it was just another one of his nightmares.

But when he opens his eyes, you’re still lying limp in his arms, the dagger in your body and the life leaving your eyes.

“I wanted to, Harry. It was all worth it. For you.” Your smile is sad as you watch the emotional pain that wrenches his heart.

“Please don’t leave me… I’m in love with you…” Harry sobs desperately.

You can’t tell if it’s the dagger in your chest, or if your heart palpitates from his words. That was all you ever wanted to hear. Those words from him and him alone.

“I’m in love with you too, you twat.” you giggle. Harry’s frown twitches into a sad smile for only a moment, before he regains his awareness of the weight of the situation.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” he sniffles pathetically.

“Me too.” Your hand on his cheek begins to grow numb and limp, if it weren’t for Harry gripping it to his face.

You use your last burst of strength and wind your hand around his neck and tug him down to your level, pressing your lips to his in your first and final kiss. Harry wastes no time and reciprocates, only separating from you when he needs air to breathe, but keeps the proximity between your faces.

“Take care of them for me, yeah?” You whisper as your eyes become hooded.

“W-what? No! Y/N, please! We’re going to fix you, I promise, I’ll-”

But he stops himself when he notices that your eyes have fluttered shut and your hand falls limp around his neck. He’s close enough to your face to feel your breathing has stopped and your body has gone mostly cold.

“I’m so sorry.” Harry cradles your head against his neck and lets out heart-wrenching sobs unabashedly.

Hermione hides her face in Ron’s neck as she cries, and Ron sheds tears as he watches his best friend cradle your limp body.

They never thought it would come to this.

[sp00kymulderr]

apogee

The Mandalorian x Reader

Warnings: None. A kiss, if you can call it that. Pining.

You sigh sweet and secret as you watch the Mandalorian from across the room, illuminated by the white bright morning sun coming through the open loading door meeting his shining armour, highlighting him in your vision so that even when you close your eyes you see his strong form.

Your Mandalorian.

No, you shake yourself out of the reverie. Not your Mandalorian, only yours in the charcoal dark when you sleep soundly and your mind fills with the imagined caress of his tender affection. In the night you can imagine he is yours, wants to be. You mellow at the thought of those dreams, let your mind wander just for a second.

He’s never been cold with you, not once. When he plucked you from nowhere and offered you to work on his ship and help care for the kid, you’d been certain he would be a brutish warrior and nothing more. You could not have been more wrong. He was quiet, kind, warm under all that harsh steel.

And he offered you a place, a purpose. Asked you to stay even when your initial agreement was up, said he couldn’t imagine being on the ship without you any more. Of course, he only meant that he liked how you kept the kid entertained and quiet and were helpfully domestic when he needed it. But you still let your heart flutter and dance at his words because in some way he was saying he needed you.

You want him to need you in every way.

It isn’t in him though, isn’t something you dare to think he’s aware of. He isn’t consumed with the thought of lifting his helmet and pressing his lips to yours. Of holding you close and kissing you until you’re breathless. He can’t be.

So you don’t let yourself think about it either. Try, at least.

But here it is again now, deep and woeful in you, as you watch him do nothing more than work on a broken panel before you set off for the next destination of this never-ending adventure your life with him had become. Everything is quiet, the child sleeps soundly and all there is is the rising and falling of your breath as you toy with the necklace you wear – the one he bought you when he saw you eyeing it at the market, a token of his appreciation he had said. When he had put it on you, in your fantasy his fingers grazed your neck with clear intent, and he sighed like he was thinking of kissing your soft skin.

“You’re quiet today” he comments, pulling you out of the rewritten memory. His voice is gravelly, slightly tinny through the modulator, but it’s comforting.

“Sorry” you reply, “just daydreaming I guess”

It sounds too much like thinking about kissing you to you. Too obvious in your voice that the thoughts are romantic and you’re drowning in them. But if he picks up on it, he doesn’t say a thing, nods with a slight chuckle at your dazed state. For a minute you two just look at each other, you smile at him, always content in his presence, and somehow you think he smiles back at you under the helmet.

“Could you help me with this, if you’re not too busy daydreaming?” he asks, now you can hear the hint of that smile in his voice. It makes you laugh, happy, as you move to stand besides him.

He shows you what he needs you to do, just hold down a small loose wire while he fixes it in place. You have to lean so close to him that you your heartbeat picks up again as that unbearable urge to touch him, kiss him, seeps back into you like a fog that covers every logical thought. If he didn’t have on the armour, if he ever let you see his face, you could lean in and discover exactly what it felt like to have your lips on his. You could bask in him like you’ve always wanted to. You have never wanted anything in the way you want to kiss this man and it’s going to break you.

When you both move at the same time, you shifting in your stance as he leans in to work, your cheek presses against the side of the helmet, where his is underneath it. The cool beskar on your face doesn’t even register because it’s his reaction that makes you balk as you stutter out an apology.

You hadn’t even touched him, not really, but you could swear there was the smallest sound of that sigh again through the modulator. Like he can feel you, so close, soft breath amplified, like he wants you close and even if it’s just in your imagination like before, your heart might burst at the simple sound.

You’re frozen in time, almost. Stuck. There’s the desperate cloying in you to do something.

And then, like everything else around you is forgotten, his gloved hand grazes against yours and slowly covers it. The tingling warmth extending from your hand up your arm and straight in to your soul.

Maybe you’re dreaming. Maybe you’re delusional.

Either way, you cannot stop the way the unbearable desire makes you turn your head, makes you brush your own soft lips against the same place on the cold metal covering his face. His hand grips yours tighter. You feel the aching longing in you begin to dissipate, just slightly but it’s like you’re allowed to breathe again.

The Mandalorian whimpers beautifully at the soft contact that isn’t really even true contact. He feels it, feels something, you can tell. You are closer than you’ve ever been and finally you find some sense of understanding. His words, his actions becoming clear to you in a hazy bloom that makes you catch your breath.

Perhaps he is your Mandalorian

[tortoisesshells]

Perspective Flip for the last fic you were really excited about and didn't get to talk about enough!

This is a little bit of a cheat - it's a Perspective Flip of something that hasn't happened yet in Customs (and, frankly, I'm not sure I'm ever getting there at the rate I've been writing) and it's ... not that upbeat, for a wedding. I suppose that has something to do with the whole "there's a war on" "there's that whole murder thing" and "no magic bullet for personal problems"?

Decades ago, when Boston was a different place, no man would sell or give a parcel so that the Church of England might set foot on good Puritan land – this, Nellie told herself, such flowers as could be found in October in hand, hesitating on Tremont Street the morning of her second marriage. This was why the King’s Chapel had had to be built on what public land could be peaceably given – and, however querulous the dead of this plot had been in life, they were in no position to contest old Governor Andros’s decree of a half-century past. If there was a world beyond this one, Nellie had sometimes thought old Winthrop must have been enraged to share his eternal rest with what he'd crossed an ocean to escape, but nothing had ever stayed the same in Boston –

An object lesson. Nellie Treat could not remain as she was, either.

She did not think about walking through the dead towards her new life – just as she could not think that she had walked past the new Granary and the burying ground and fixed her gaze on the dirty street rather than look for Samuel’s headstone – that she would have to halt and apologize for what she was about to do, that she had gone on as his widow as long as she could. She had gritted her teeth and walked along with her family attending, and tell herself that these were no particularly bad omens. Aunt and Uncle Bendish had been married here, at King's Chapel, and gone on to live happily and prosperously.

She breathed deeply, bracing herself. Aunt B put her hand under her elbow, and quietly called her name, and when Nellie swore it was only the expected kind of nerves, kissed her cheek and wished her happiness. Polly and Sam, ambivalent about the idea of a step-father at the best of times, followed behind the Bendishes like ducklings in a stream – it was not painless, but as she had reasoned over the past three weeks, all other options were worse.

Inside – but Nellie hesitated here a moment, too –

Inside, King’s Chapel was better attended than she would have expected – whether it was Commodore Norrington’s prominence, or the curiosity of her neighbors that had filled the pews, she couldn’t say. Certainly at least one gossip had accidentally let slip within her family’s hearing that some suspected Nellie had gotten herself in the family way – that stung, but as Newport has said much the same thing about her marriage to Samuel Treat, she at least had old habits of equanimity to fall back on. She tried to imagine that her doubts underfoot as she walked to her place before the altar, as easily crushed as maggots and other insects – smiled up at James, splendidly dressed and fitting in this place, as much as she feared she was not – and breathed a calm, deliberate sigh. He is my partner – she told herself – this is safety.

He took her hand. The rector read the ceremony. Her mind wandered. It was not as it had been, thirteen or fourteen years before. There was more pomp to the Church of England’s service, she noted idly – some shade of her life to come; she had little idea what James Norrington was thinking, as he had done what he always did when under scrutiny – gone still and impassive as a statue. Samuel, she remembered, had winked at her when the minister had not been looking at them – a badly need buoy to a girl of nineteen who had been shaking in her mended petticoats. Her new dress, the finest thing she had ever owned, felt more like armor than anything else – she wondered, vaguely, if James felt the same way about his ridiculously ornamented coat. She had been assuming so – but, Lord, wearing his pride as armor seemed a dangerous business.

When it was over, Nellie wrung the nerves from her hands before she trusted herself to sign the license – and then, legally and in the eyes of God, Elinor Coggeshall Treat ceased to exist.

[agcntmobius]

POST S2 FINALE DRABBLE

everybody moved on i... i stayed there

he knew that this was how things had to be. what loki had done, the selfless move he made... mobius knew that it was what had to be in order to save, well... everything. them, the tva, the timelines... the multiverse.

but that didn't mean that he had to like it, did it? that didn't mean that he had to feel okay with the way that things were now afterwards.

it was ironic, wasn't it? that now, the tva was thriving, everyone had felt that wash of relief and gratitude to loki for what he had done, for them, for all of them, and yet mobius didn't feel like he'd left that spot behind that door... looking through the window at loki as he offered that gut-wrenching smile that mobius had known meant that it would be the last time he saw him. didn't feel like he'd left that spot behind the bigger window, watching as loki took hold of all of the timelines and breathed life into them, watching as he disappeared with them and left in his place that tree formed of the brances...

it felt selfish, but as he'd wandered through the tva, as he'd sat at his desk that had not long since been occupied by someone else too... it didn't feel right anymore. it didn't feel like home anymore.

he'd always thought that the tva was home, but the time that loki had spend there with him, that was what had really felt like home. before? he'd just been... playing the part. oblivious to the true bigger picture of things, manipulated and moulded to be what he was. but loki? loki had opened his eyes and had filled everything with colour. he'd lit a spark and offered it to him, and the time that they'd spent together? whether it was the adventure and adrenaline of missions, or simply just loki's company while sat together in the canteen or at his desk... he missed that now. he'd grown so fond of it and now it was gone.

and now... now that loki had taken on the burden of protecting the timelines, the burden that mobius felt as though he was left with was missing him. it felt as though there was such a huge gap now. as though there was an empty space beside him that nothing or no one else would be able to fill.

now he was stood on the timeline, looking out towards a house that's his, well, a version of him anyway. one that new nothing other than a life with his kids and his job. and it looked wonderful, it did... he hadn't been lying when he'd said to sylvie that it was the best house on the block, because he imagined it truly was. and yes, he knew he could just go back... that this was his life at one point, and that he had every right to go back to it, but... as good as it seemed, he knew that he'd still feel as though something was missing. he knew he would still feel that empty space. he'd still know.

so he stayed stood there. even after sylvie had left through her time door. an uncomfortable sort of middle-ground. watching the life that he could have, while still longing for the one he knew he couldn't have. how long would he stay here? he didn't know. maybe he'd stay like this forever, just holding on to some sort of false hope that somehow, things might end up different.

and he couldn't help but wonder, could loki see him? could loki see anything of the timelines? was there some way that despite loki being alone now, he could still see everything he did it for?

they expected me to find somewhere, some perspective, but i sat and stared... ...right where you left me

[slashingdisneypasta]

Ok ok ok. Fairytale/Toon Bandits AU!!! Omg I love it so much. We have to talk about it more ^^ I'm with you in that I don't know which I like more; them staying as bandits or becoming corrupt knights when Doom takes over (there is plenty of potential for power imbalance dynamics for the latter though 👀)

Feel free to ignore this if you wany of course ^^ but I have to offer you how I imagine Shiny and Poppy would be in the Fairytale AU.

Shiny was a character who was never destined for anything greater than cleaning tables and filling ale mugs. She was never written for anything more than providing exposition to some heroic knight that stopped by her tavern before going off to save their princess. And Shiny was one of those fables that didn't know anything about how fairytales worked, or that there was some 'greater force' that chose your destiny.

Until one day, some mysterious wizard came wandering through her inn. It wasn't uncommon to see magical characters around these parts, and Shiny actually enjoyed having them around; they always had something worthwhile to pawn off. But then after some drinks, he started rambling on about 'fairytales' and how everyone has their own fate. At first Shiny thought he was just talking nonsense, until she pickpocketed a mysterious book from his satchel.

She found all sorts of stories, and even some people she recognized as past customers. This was all so entertaining! Until she reached her own story... Which was hardly even a paragraph in the middle of some other person's tale; some rich married baron whom she was supposed to flirt with for his cash, but he proves his loyalty to his wife and gives her nothing... That's it. Shiny was nothing but a foot note in someone else's life.

It wasn't that she was pushed to the side so easily that made her angry; why should she care about some rich asshole and whether or not he would cheat on his wife for her? But rather, it was the fact that there was nothing for her. This force had made all these grand destinies for all these people, and she was just meant to be eye candy to drunkards and refill ale mugs?? That was her 'destiny'!? So, Shiny made a decision that night. If she was designed an utter crap pile for a life, then she would go out and make her own story.

Breaking the rules, Shiny left the tavern the next night and set out on her own. Using her skills of seduction and slight of hand to slip through towns. She honestly hadn't known what she wanted to do. But she knew she didn't want to rot away in one place. She picked up more skills along her travels, and became a sort of traveling entertainer. She would go town to town, singing and dancing about all the sights she had seen and people she met. But she never lost her thieving trickster side, and has gotten in trouble numerous of times.

Perhaps she has ran into the dreaded weasel bandits a handful of times on her travels? Being one of the few people who managed to escape them with all, if not most, of her valuables and her life. She has many stories, especially of the amourous green one. And maybe, she runs into them again, only this time they are on the side of the law and are ordered to arrest her.

(So basically, girl pulled a Freida. Minus the whole 'taking over the kingdom' thing XD)

~

Poppy was born into a high class family, though they didn't have too much influence. Her parents were considered Lord and Lady at most. They wanted to climb the social ladder, and saw their daughter as nothing more than their ticket. From etiquette to education, they did their best to make Poppy the perfect wife for any prince or knight. As was her story was written as.

Her whole life, she had been taught she was meant to be nothing but perfection, and anything less wouldn't be tolerated. She was never treated like a daughter, just a tool. Despite the luck of being in a wealthy family, Poppy felt alone, and just wanted to make someone happy. Then, she met a peasent boy named Henry; a charming fox who easily got to her with false words of endearment. Poppy had planned on introducing him to her parents. Until she found out they were going to marry her off to a Duke she never met by the name of Ben. That was when she decided to finally take her life into her own hands.

Looking back, she realized she should have seen his betrayal coming when he convinced her to steal some of her families riches to take with them. But she had been so in love with Henry, she would have done anything for him. She could only see him outside of rose tinted glasses after he took all the money and ditched her the second he got the chance.

Abandoned and heartbroken though, she knew she couldn't return to her parents. She didn't want to live under their thumb again- assuming they hadn't disowned her straight away for stealing from them. So, despite her fear of what could be out here, Poppy set off on her own.

She learned some things, met new faces, and even briefly stayed with a huntsman named Moony. But eventually, Poppy made it to the kingdom that someday Doom would take over. She applied for a job as a chambermaid in the castle, and that became the place she could finally settle down and call home. Ever since then, she has refused to use her family's name O'Hare when introducing herself, and tries to forget her upper-class heritage. All she wants is to start anew.

She is afraid of people finding out her true identity as the runaway lady. Someone might try to take her back to her family and intended betrothed in hopes of a reward. Maybe the weasel bandits have heard of this wanted woman and have kept an eye out for her for easy cash? Or maybe, if they're the guards for the new king, Poppy would have to work in close proximity to them? In a position that's beneath them no less? (*cough power imbalance cough*)

And that's their stories! They both were destined for different stories, and they both created their own lives ^^ I hope you liked reading these!

(Also, I forgot to add Shiny to the Dragon Patrol ask, so I'll just put it here so I don't add an additional ask to your inbox. I'm not sure if Shiny would be a BAMF tavern keeper that is one of the few people who will go toe to toe with the dragons, or if she's a dragoness who visits the dragon patrol sometimes, takes a liking to princess Poppy... Ngl my heart wants to go for lesbian dragon, but what do you think?)

(there is plenty of potential for power imbalance dynamics for the latter though 👀 Exactly (; Haha XDD

Ahh, I love this AU too!! We DO need to talk about it more!!

And- y e s ! I loved reading these!! Shiny pulling a wholesome Frieda is perfect 👌 I'm so happy and excited for her, I love this story so much!! Like, I would watch the h e l l out of this movie about this grog wench woman, err, 'finding' this mystical book and having a laugh about it until she realises its real... she's just supposed to be some short-lived temptation for a loyal husband??!... And then going fuck that and travelling!! She is an aesthetic!!

And Poppy <3<3<3 I love that her story isn't as Fantastical i guess, but she turns out happy ^^ Its simple, she wins, she breaks free and she gets to live on her own terms now. Oh, its the DREAM!

LESBIAN DRAGON SHINY AND A PRINCESS POPPY YES!! I definitely like that one best!! XD Imagine Shiny getting possessive of her when it comes to the other dragons (The Toon Patrol), and taking her away but its okay because she treats her nicer- gentler- and Poppy's quite happy to stay with her. She has reservations ingrained in her still as, you know, this is a dragon (You cant have a relationship with a dragon!?? Can you!? No, its impossible and its... weird-) but there are these feelings she's struggling to fight. How long will it take her to let the beautiful terrifying dragon make her her mate?

[secondjulia]

Thy Fearful Symmetry Chapter 11 (END!)

Rating: Explicit Ao3 link

Dream felt Hob slip almost immediately into the Dreaming. His arms went lax and heavy around Dream, and his chest moved with the long, slow breaths of deepest sleep.

Dream listened to the rhythm of his lover's strong but spent body and reveled in the feeling of satiety and safety. Then, to his surprise, Dream's own physical form slipped into sleep.

It was a paradoxically alien feeling to enter his own realm in this way. Dream had very rarely stayed in the waking long enough for his body to require — let alone actually enter — a sleep cycle. He might have panicked if he hadn't looked down from the edge of the Dreaming and seen his own body wrapped gently in Hob's arms. 

For a long moment, he just stood and watched.

Dream had taken so little care of this form. Essential as it was for his labors in the waking world, it'd always felt like a burden. A concession to his function. Something he would have often done without if the laws of the universe allowed him to do so without shirking his responsibilities. The hungers and needs of the body had always been just a shameful accessory to bear in the waking world — appetites too vast and horrifying to ever fully share with his dreamers, awake or asleep. Things he needed to hide even from himself.

But Hob's insatiable lust for life had somehow expanded to include Dream. The vast, hungry King of the Dreaming and Lord of the Nightmare Realms was barely a match for the voracious Hob Gadling. Dream's heart — the huge core of his being and his realm — filled with love as he looked down at the two tangled forms, his human body and his human lover. A part of him yearned to stay and feel the weight of arms around him and the rise and fall of Hob's chest. But Hob was in Dream's own realm now, and it was Dream's turn to care for his partner as Hob had so ardently cared for him.

In two steps, he was in Fiddler's Green, the lush grass soft between his bare toes. The Dreaming was no longer the chaotic broken thing it had been after Dream's imprisonment. Rather, it was now the perfectly chaotic place it was supposed to be. But even within the chaos, Hob's presence tugged at Dream as strong and persistent as ever. Indeed, as strong and persistent as Hob always was, whichever world he wandered in.

Dream's feet quickly found a familiar path. Up ahead was the White Horse Tavern, lit with the electric lights of the New Inn. Inside, a shadow of himself sat across from Hob at a crude wooden table. As Dream approached, Hob looked from one form of Dream to the other.

"Huh. There's never been two of you before," he said.

"There is only one of me," Dream said. His shadow wavered then vanished, and Dream took his seat. "This is my realm. You cultivate pieces of it for yourself, but it is all me. 

Though he had long struggled to reveal even the smallest truths about himself, the words came easily now.

"Your realm," Hob echoed. "I'm asleep, aren't I?"

"Yes."

"So none of this is real."

"It is all real," Dream reminded him. "And I am its king."

It was not only easy to let the truth flow to Hob, it felt right. Hob had opened his arms and accepted all of Dream, had glutted himself on Dream's whole wild being, even before knowing a single thing about him. Even before Death had herded Dream into the White Horse Tavern, Hob had been a creature of dreams, his imaginings large enough to swallow all life had to offer. Dream had no fear now in giving him everything... Continued on Ao3

[demonsandco]

Smut Alphabet - Lucifer

All the letters for Luci have been answered now, so here's a post compiling them all together!

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

When he’s the one in charge, Luci acts like the king of aftercare. As much as he loves seeing his partner fall apart, he always makes sure to put them back together in the end. His go to thing is running a hot bath for his partner, letting him clean them up while also giving him a reason to hold them close and relax for once. After the bath, he’s pretty much at their beck and call, willing to run out and get them anything they need until they're ready to go to bed. It’s one of the only times when Luci won’t put up a fight about going to bed at a decent hour, instead opting to snuggle under the covers and pulling his partner close to his chest.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For a long while, Lucifer’s favorite parts of him were his wings, but now they carry too many memories for him to view them with the same light. Now, his favorite body part would be his hands. He has long fingers and a firm grip, perfect for grabbing his partner’s wrists with one hand and pinning them down.

When it comes to his partner, Lucifer’s favorite body part of theirs is their neck. It’s such a vulnerable part of their body and it’s his favorite place to leave marks. It’s a trust thing for him, as well as something that makes him feel powerful. Knowing that he could kill them in a second with his sharp teeth pressed to their throat, yet they trust him not to hurt them excites him to no end.

(cont under the cut)

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Lucifer cums a pretty average amount, but he can do so quite a few times in a row. His favorite place to cum is in his S/O’s mouth or on their face. Marking them in such a way feeds into his pride, and he can’t help but admire how wonderful they look covered on his seed. He would never force them to swallow it when he does this, but if they choose to, he is left feeling awed and even hornier than before.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Lucifer is more than prepared to take this secret to his grave, but he has, on more than one occasion, fantasised about having a pact master use their pact with him during sex, with consent of course. It’s the idea of trusting his partner to the point where he puts his life in their hands and gives them complete control that gets to him. He’d be able to just lay back and stop thinking for once, while they use him however they see fit, without him needing to make a single decision. If his actual S/O ever suggests something like that, he’d be overjoyed internally, but he plays it off as simply playing along with their idea. He refuses to let anyone know how much he enjoys the thought because of how embarrassing he finds it.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Lucifer has quite a bit of experience, but only when it comes to sex involving BDSM dynamics. He doesn’t mind hooking up with someone if he has the option to have complete control for the night. The type of sex he’s used to is very much lacking in emotional connection. He’s left feeling a bit unsure of himself when it comes to more vanilla sex, being the submissive one, or just sex that involves emotions. He knows what he likes and he’s very skilled in the physical aspect, it just takes him a bit of time to get into the flow of things with a partner that he actually cares about. Especially when emotions are involved. He desperately wants his partner to know how much they mean to him, but he’s not quite sure how to translate his emotions into actions from the very start.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Lucifer’s favorite position is surprisingly vanilla in nature. Call him old fashioned or cliché, but he’s very fond of the missionary position. It doesn’t matter to him who’s on the top and who’s on the bottom, he’s fine with filling either role. He enjoys the closeness that it offers, pressing his chest against his partner’s and feeling each time they take a breath. Plus it offers so much versatility! He’s in the perfect place to kiss his partner as much as he wants, but he can also bury his face in their neck, leaving kisses and love bites, while also muffling his moans.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Lucifer very much prefers to take things seriously. He likes keeping the mood sensual and heated, and goofiness gets in the way of that. Some playfulness or teasing is perfectly fine, and even encouraged by him, but outright humor or jokes is something he’d rather avoid. If his partner insists on being humorous, he’d see it as them being bratty, and won’t hesitate to gag or punish them if they don’t listen to his warnings. It makes for a very easy way to rile him up, if that’s what they’re looking to do. His only focus in the moment is their pleasure (or pain) and his behavior reflects that.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

As with anything to do with his appearance, Lucifer takes meticulous care of his body hair. He constantly keeps it trimmed and short, even if he doesn’t have a partner who would be seeing it at the time. He’s prideful of how he looks and puts a lot of time into looking well put together in all aspects, even if no one will see it. He has a nice amount of body hair in general, though, his pubes leading up into a thin happy trail and a light dusting of hair over his chest. It’s all black in colour, just like the base of his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Surprisingly, Lucifer is very intimate in the moment. He considers sex itself to be an intimate and romantic activity. He needs to trust his partner quite a bit to feel comfortable letting them see him in such a potentially vulnerable position and that really shows. Even if he’s acting rough and dominating, he still can’t help but let a bit of softness and love seep into his words and actions. It’s one of the only times where he can voice his emotions easily, without his pride getting in the way.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Despite having a very high libido, Lucifer rarely takes the time to take care of his needs. He usually puts it off in favor of working, until he suddenly realises just how long it's been, and how needy he feels. It leaves him feeling so pent up and tense, not to mention unbearably sensitive, but getting himself off just doesn’t leave him feeling satisfied enough to be worth the time. He would much rather get off with a partner than on his own, and he’s willing to stay all worked up until then.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

This comes as a surprise to no one, but Lucifer loves bondage. Having his partner tied, watching them wiggle helplessly, unable to escape his touch, never fails to excite him and make his heart race. However, not only does Lucifer enjoy tying up his partner, he also loves to be the one getting tied up. The feel of tight ropes biting into his skin as he squirms under their gaze sends blood rushing straight to his dick. Especially when he thinks about how much trust he’s putting in them. He’s leaving himself open and helpless, yet he knows that they’ll never do anything he genuinely dislikes, just as he would never do that to them

On a similar note, Lucifer is also very fond of temperature play, especially when combined with bondage or even sensory deprivation. He likes the subtle blend of pain and pleasure that comes with it, alongside the anticipation of not knowing which will come next. He could spend hours teasing his partner like this, watching their reactions and listening to their cries. Of course, he’ll also let them return the favor, tying him up and teasing his senses with ice cubes and hot wax. He’ll hold in his reactions for as long as possible, and it’s hard to break him, but if they know where to target, they’ll have him begging soon enough. The span of his back, as well as his thighs are extra sensitive and dripping wax across his spine while sliding some ice over his inner thighs will leave him desperate and begging in no time.

Unsurprisingly, the Avatar of Pride has a huge praise kink. Lucifer craves praise from his partner, enjoying the feeling of pride coursing through his body when his partner tells him how good he feels and how well behaved he is. He strives to please them as much as he can, and the validation that he’s a good boy sends pleasure coursing through him. Of course, Lucifer also gets pleasure out of giving his partner praise, too, when he’s the one in charge. He wants them to know how proud he is of them when they’re being good.

On the opposite hand, Lucifer gets a weird amount of pleasure out of being humiliated. He isn’t fond of humiliating his S/O, being humiliated? Having a mere human exert that much power over him? It excites him to no end and he can’t explain why. If they treat him like he’s a lesser being, spit in his mouth, step on his cock, anything like that, Lucifer finds himself cumming so embarrassingly quick. He has to be in a specific headspace to enjoy it, but when he is, having his pride crushed in such a way feels like such a thrill.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Lucifer is a very private man and refuses to risk being caught in the act. The riskiest he’ll get is his office, but more often than not, it’s going to take place in his room. He prefers to take his time with his partner anyway, and that's much easier to accomplish on a comfortable bed, rather than somewhere else. He has more than enough self control to avoid doing anything too sensual outside of his room, where he feels safe.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He’ll never admit it, but seeing his s/o acting bold or taking charge never fails to excite him. It makes his mind wander and Lucifer can’t help but imagine them acting that way towards him, disregarding his rank and power and taking control of him. He’s almost ashamed of having such fantasies, but that just serves to excite him further.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Exhibitionism of any level is a big no for Lucifer. He has a hard enough time showing regular affection in public, and anything even remotely sexual in nature crosses his limits. He considers what he shares with his partner to be very personal and vulnerable and he refuses to have anyone else see him in such a state. He’s also not fond of anyone having a chance to see his partner in a disheveled state. In his mind, their body and reactions are for his eyes only. No one else even comes close to deserving to see them like that.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Lucifer very much prefers giving oral over receiving, and he’s damn good at it, too. He loves the amount of power it gives him, allowing him to control exactly how much pleasure he’s giving his partner. He knows exactly how to use his mouth to get specific responses from them. He’s also a quick learner and adapts to his partner’s preferences very fast.

While Lucifer doesn’t hate being on the receiving end, it takes some time for him to be open to the idea. Letting his partner have so much control over his pleasure leaves him feeling vulnerable and he has a harder time controlling his reactions. It takes every ounce of control he has not to grab the back of their head and set the pace himself, but he finds that it’s more worth it in the end to give them complete control.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Lucifer’s pace heavily depends on the mood of the night. If both he and his partner are stressed and need some relief, he’s more than happy to go hard and rough. He does enjoy taking his time, though, and if his schedule allows it, he’d much rather keep things sensual and slow. Intimacy is a very important part of sex for him, and a fast pace feels like it brings things to an end too quickly for him to fully enjoy it all the time, but he still likes the roughness of it. Regardless of who’s in control of the pace, he enjoys it best when there’s a healthy balance, starting out hard and fast, before gradually slowing down and letting some romance seep in, only to speed up once again as he and his partner get close to finishing.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Lucifer is a very busy demon, meaning that sometimes all he has time for is a quickie, but that doesn’t mean he likes them. When he’s with his partner, he wants to be able to take his time with them, keep a slow and sensual pace, but he often can’t find the time for it. He always thinks a quickie would be better than nothing, but they often just leave him feeling even more pent up and desperate.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Lucifer isn’t the most open person when it comes to experimentation. Mostly because he’s already had experience with many kinks throughout his long life, and he feels that he’s got a very good idea of what he’s into. There are very few things his partner could suggest that he either isn’t completely against or that he hasn’t already tried. If they do manage to find something that he’s unsure of yet, he’s more than happy to try it out for them, as long as it’s in a controlled environment. His partner has a much higher chance of getting him to experience something new if he’s the submissive one for the night. Chances are he’ll end up enjoying it, even if he was a bit unsure at first. He thrives off of pleasing his s/o and they’ll quickly find that he has very few limits.

Lucifer is very fond of everything being safe and controlled, regardless of who is in charge for the night. He outright refuses to do anything he’d consider obscene anywhere that someone else could walk into. He wants anything that happens to stay between him and his partner, and his not a fan of risking that in any way.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Lucifer has quite a lot of stamina, when he's not exhausted and overworked, at least. He's not exaggerating when he says he'll keep his partner busy all night long. He can take a few more rounds than the average human, but they last for ages. He's skilled at holding off his own orgasms, capable of making his partner cum on his cock a couple times at least, before finally letting go himself. He uses this to his advantage often, wanting to make sure he completely satisfies them before reaching his own peak.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Lucifer has a rather impressive collection of toys, or perhaps tools would be more accurate. He doesn't own anything like dildos or vibrators, but he has everything from different styles of restraints, to paddles, to whips. He has no qualms using some of the… less extreme tools in his collection on his partner, and he's not opposed to adding some more commonly seen sex toys to the mix, as well. If they show interest, he's more than happy to switch roles and lend them his tools, but he greatly prefers the feel of his partner's body, rather than a plastic toy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Lucifer is a huge fan of teasing his partner, but he’s very easily swayed by begging. He could genuinely spend hours teasing them and finding new ways to make them react, but as soon as they beg him for more, he loses all semblance of patience and control. Hearing his partner beg feeds straight into his pride, and he’s always weak when it comes to their wants and needs.

Lucifer himself is rather fun to tease as well. It may not be his favorite thing, but he enjoys it from time to time. It takes a lot of practice and patience to actually break him, though, but it’s more than worth it in the end. What’s better than seeing the Avatar of Pride crying and groveling, pleading for his partner to let him cum?

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Lucifer purposefully keeps himself quiet, doing his best to avoid making any sort of embarrassing noises. It works pretty well for him at first, the most that’s coming out of his mouth being soft gasps or groans from behind his clenched teeth, but the closer he gets, the less controlled his voice becomes, letting sweet, delicate moans slip out. He’s still not the type of person to be extra loud or talkative, but it’s not uncommon to hear soft words of praise in between the whiny noises he can’t seem to silence anymore.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Despite the sadistic and domineering persona he puts on, most of the time, Lucifer actually prefers to be the submissive one. He spends every waking moment of his life feeling like he needs to be in control and trying to take care of everything, that what he really craves is to just lay back and have someone else take the reins. It takes a huge amount of trust for Lucifer to admit this, but once he does, he’s willing to let his partner do whatever they want to him.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Lucifer's dick is an impressive sight, but isn't too intimidating. He has a lot of length, more than the average human, and just enough girth to provide a stretch, without requiring extensive prepping. His skin flushes easily, making his a cock a pretty pink colour when he's hard. The thing that stands out the most, though, is that he has piercings down there. There's three to be exact, all lined up on the underside of his cock, forming a Jacob's ladder. They match the nipple piercings that he also keeps hidden under his clothes.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Lucifer’s sex drive is pretty high compared to the average human, but it really isn’t very high for a demon. He’s always so pent up, however, that you’d never be able to tell that. He’s always busy, and when he does have time to spend with his S/O, he wants to do something romantic with them first, constantly pushing aside his need in favor of something else. By the time he’s finally alone and in the mood with them, he's so desperate and sensitive that he comes across as constantly horny, when he’s actually just denying himself until he can’t handle it anymore.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Lucifer has a horrible sleep schedule and struggles to get some rest even when he’s tired. The chances of him falling asleep before his partner are extremely low, even if they wore him out. Even if he doesn’t have any work he feels pressured to finish, chances are that once he finishes taking care of his partner, he’s still going to stay up. He’ll stay in bed if they ask him to, but he’ll find something to read or put on some soft music to keep him busy for a few hours, until he finally feels like he can rest.

[anlian-aishang]

Hi, I am writing again because last time I probably did not read the regulations, I hope that this time I will not do the same 🙃can I have a story where levi is the reader's private trainer until they end up falling in love with each other.if that's wrong then sorry but apparently something is not going my way.

Hi, anon! Thanks for the request. I hope you enjoy <3

Word count: 1400 Tags: levi x reader, canonverse, gn!reader

Levi was always the first to chastise others - advice so broad such as living a life without regret or as tangible as getting a good night’s sleep before a big day. 2 AM, staring at your ceiling, overthinking as you often did, you recognized that you were defying both orders at once. The night before the expedition: loathing your decision to join the Scouts over the Garrison - believing yourself to be far out of your league, and theorizing over the thoughts of your captain - having heard his origin story and knowing him to be an insomniac, you wondered if the guidance he gave was not because his subordinates needed to hear it, but because their leader himself did.

Snores of your bunkmates droned louder. The moon shined brighter. Signs you often found comforting, tonight, they were the opposite. You wondered, upon your return, if you would still have those roommates, if they would have still have their breaths. By this time tomorrow, would they be sleeping on their loft beds or six feet underground? Glowing stars and pale moonlight were mocking - the sky would only brighten before they dulled - and reinforced your inner pessimist: you wouldn’t get any sleep even if you wanted to. 

Beneath that heavy blanket, pre-expedition adrenaline heightened all your senses, scattered all your thoughts. Over your resting roommates, you heard creaking wood and assumed it must have been his footsteps. Even brighter than the moon was the flame that flickered, which must have been his lantern. The weight that tomorrow carried gave your present body an impossible lightness, one that lifted you out of bed and down the halls, so silent, not even he could hear you.

// // //

It was a question unique to him, one he had faced for years, yet had never made out an answer to. Was he ready? 

Not ready for the expedition nor the tasks embedded within it, but if he was ready to go. Not if his gear was shined up nor his uniform set out, but if he was ready to go beyond. Not beyond the walls, but beyond this world, to a place he had never been, but where all his loved ones were waiting. Was he ready?

All those who had gone before him - Farlan, Isabel, the Squad named after him, the woman who birthed him, the man who raised him - it always choked him up and often drew a tear, how ready he was to see them again. At the times that grief gripped its tightest, he would answer in a heartbeat: yes, he was ready. 

But at times more liberating - when he felt life surge through his veins, when he freed a comrade from the hands of titans, when his subordinates threw their punches and learned the tactics he taught -

Interrupting his thoughts, in walked his most recent reminder: no, he was not ready to go just yet.

// // //

Searching for the source of that light, following the waves of those sounds, in the throes of your exhaustion, there was a speed to your steps. Indeed, had you been more awake, you would have been more logical and less adventurous - staying in bed rather than wandering the barracks. 

Thankfully, you pathed the latter.

Every now and then, you wondered if you were dreaming. The wind howling through cracked panes, the tosses and turns past walls too thin, such details guaranteed your consciousness. Too vivid to be imagined. 

But when you found that candle at its brightest, when you laid eyes on the hidden figure, you doubted yourself again. Shadows on the cupboards were disproportionate to his actual height. The uneven breaths that filled the space were so opposite to the calm you knew him to have. Still, that particular hold of his teacup and the sharp dip in volume between bangs and undercut put only one name to mind.

“Captain?” You blinked twice and rubbed tired eyes. It really was you. “What are you doing here?”

Startled, he showed no signs. A slow sip of his tea, by his fingertips on the rim, he lowered the cup back to his hip, “Should be asking you that.”

An eye contact hardly met. Past late-night darkness, sleepwalken haze, his silver managed to find you. In just that sliver of a stare, a flood of exchange. 

The rumors were true, he was an insomniac. At the same time, they were false, he was not the heartless hardass so many made him out to be. Dark circles under his eyes painted a different picture, one of a leader worried for his followers, but not for his own survival. White-knuckle hold of that ceramic, his nails bitten, proved that you had been fooled in thinking his cool to be perpetual. Within that mug, the tea had turned cold. On the unseen end of that lightning-fast combat was a mind parsing through thought after agonizing thought. Just the fact that he was here, pacing the commons, turned your world upside down. Not careless, careful. Not selfish, selfless. Not Captain Levi, just -

“Levi,” the first time you had called him by name. The way his brows neutralized, the steel that melted soft, you recognized that he did not mind.

“I’m just -” you looked to your toes, no - back to him, before returning that eye contact, “- unsure about tomorrow.”

And in that meeting, he obtained an understanding similar to the epiphany you had just had for him. Always so bubbly you were. Smiling so hard, his own cheeks hurt. Looking after everyone so frantically, he felt compelled to look after you. Perfect perfect perfect 100% of the time, he believed that behind closed doors, you had to break.

It was not behind closed doors that he found you, but here - in the most open space within the walls - a cafeteria that could seat hundreds. And though it was only him there, he could not think of a setting more public. What an unlikely environment to see a side of you so hidden. Beneath that beautification was the true you: tainted with doubts and fears, less likeable, more lovable. Upon reveal, such was how you felt about him.

Levi moaned, “Yeah,” a light sigh, barely audible, “I feel the same.”

At those words, your heart skipped beats, hairs stood on end - you prayed he would not notice as, in your head, his voice rang on repeat. 

I feel the same.

I feel the same.

I feel the same.

The alcoholic low of his voice. The high his presence sent you on. The do-or-die of tomorrow. Be it fate, fuck it. Whatever this was, it took hold of your hand as it took hold of his. Movements as if not your own, you were more startled than Levi. In your warm caress, though he felt a course of chills, it was impossible not to feel safe. Fingers intertwined. Palms pressed together. He was at home, the first time he had felt that in a while. Levi recalled that abhorrent, the female, the throes of hunger, the injection to his chest, a long while. 

Your lips twitched just that inch further, his teeth were quick to snatch them. In that kiss, you once again exceeded each other’s expectations. 

The first time you stood before him, you thought you would remember it forever. His short stature seemed to tower. Obsidian locks cast shadows over his face, a chilling complement to his dark voice. You thought you would remember it forever, but in this moment, it was beyond your comprehension. His vulnerability. His touch. His affection. Vanished was that first impression, forever replaced by these ones, coming by the second, by his tongue around yours.

To the bitter of his black tea, he had always refused sugar, but finally - he had discovered a sweetener he liked - yours the only one he could tolerate. Taste after taste, he was learning to crave it.

Not that intimidating leader. Not that flawless sweetheart. You knew that your worlds would turn upside down tomorrow, but you did not expect this upheaval to precede it the night before.

“Wh-” shaky breaths tickled your mouth, Levi simmered with hesitation. “What the hell are we doing?”

At any other time, you would have caught yourself, but for now, your head was spinning - too busy catching up to stop. Your voice was light in a mix of playfulness and flirtation, tossing his words back to him, “Devoting our hearts.” 

“Tch… stupid brat.” Levi exhaled a single laugh before giving you his lips again.

// masterlist //

[red-letter-imagines]

heyy there!! can you do another part of the “reaction when you suck on their tongue but with Mikey, Rindou and mitsuya?

You have no idea how happy I am that my work's so well-received! So there's been more than one request for a part 2, but for different characters. This little dove, however, is the first one so I'll be doing this, then the other characters in later parts, alright? Alright.

Now *cracks knuckles* let's begin!

Reaction When You Suck on Their Tongue Part 2 (Sano Manjiro, Haitani Rindou & Mitsuya Takashi)

Sano "Mikey" Manjiro: (Bonten! Mikey)

You sure you don't need a chaser with that? Sanzu snickers from across you, pupils already blown wide from the pills he'd taken half an hour ago. The pure vodka sears your esophagus, a pool of liquid fire in your abdomen. Tears are springing up your eyes and you wince. Truly, it had been a horrible idea on your side to make bets with Sanzu, of all people. That man has had every drug imaginable enter his system and three overdoses later, is still standing. You should've known better than to order Spirytus, but Sanzu has a way of getting under anyone's skin, especially yours.

He knew you had more than several bones to pick with him after he coaxed Mikey into accepting a million-dollar drug deal with some shady Western cartel. Throughout Bonten's history, it was one of the more careless business trades you'd ever gone through, one that put Mikey in a precarious position. The cartel demanded Mikey's audience for the deal to be done, and while Sanzu reassured you that nothing would happen to their "King", that never stopped you from worrying your head off.

A part of you wanted the drugs and alcohol put him into a coma; you just had to hold your liquor until then. Yet this poisonous bastard is still standing, while you barely have the confidence to stand up straight. He's fucking crazy.

You eye the remaining shot glass. It's rim and ridges bounce the bright glow of the chandeliers above you, its crystal clear contents an elegant deception to those unaware. You suck air through your nose and grab it. Before you could down the last drink of your life, a slender hand slides to your shoulder.

You turn to face Mikey's lilac-rimmed gaze, the darkness swimming within sucking you in like a vacuum. Once he sees the flares of red across your cheeks and down your neck, his lips curl a little. Mikey hates alcohol with a passion; he told you early on that he abhorred its bitterness and how it hazed your mind.

Instantly, you cave under his disappointment, and none-too-gracefully drop your shot glass back on the counter. You barely had time to utter his name before he cups your cheek and kisses you. It's gentle, caring yet the pressure of his pecks stamp his dominance into your very soul.

He plunges his tongue into your booze-laced cavern, and you eagerly latch onto it like a hungry pup. He tasted of red bean paste, its sweetness a balm to your burning senses. He keeps a hand on your neck while you have your fill, biting your lower lip when you part.

You're panting, eyes glazed with wanton need. He strokes a thumb under your ear, and you smile.

You could drink all the alcohol you wanted, but nothing could make you drunker than Sano Manjiro's affection.

Haitani Rindou:

You frown to yourself as you waited outside the heavy steel gates of Roppongi's juvenile detention center. It's been six months since the Haitani brothers had been arrested because of Tenjiku. Along with the other Heavenly King named Mucho, they also scored a reduced sentence, and today will be their first taste of freedom in half a year.

You'd been forced to stay behind when the battle happened; Rindou told you that he didn't want to have to look after you while fighting. A cover-up for his worry, of course. The younger Haitani isn't known for being as emotionally apt as his older brother, yet somehow that rigidness of his is one of the things you love most about him. To this day, Ran still loves to give you both shit for it.

Rindou knew that you'd be pissed beyond belief once you got the news; he promised not to leave you alone again like last time. You didn't come to his trial nor see him when he got permitted for visitations. Ran is in a different cell, and he had nothing but time.

Of course, other than being absolutely furious with him, there were other reasons you couldn't come see your bone breaker of a boyfriend. With them detained, no one is left to defend their title as the Kings of Roppongi. No one except you, that is.

You're quite the force of nature yourself, even before meeting Ran and Rindou. Roppongi had been your stomping grounds since you were ten, and when they started making a name for themselves you refused to submit. Thinking back, it was quite a comical scene: a scruffy-looking little girl baring her teeth at two brothers who'd basically killed a man not too long ago. Despite how ruthless they truly are, they never stooped so low as to hit a girl, much less gang up on one to prove a point. Instead you became friends, and later on fell in love with the younger Haitani, and he with you. Together you ruled over Roppongi, and the rest is history.

So while your man stared at white walls in the slammer, you splattered blood across brick walls as warnings to those who thought they could conquer the city. All on your own, you reigned over Roppongi the entirety of their sentence, and now it's time for the kings to reclaim their throne.

You hear them before you see them; Ran's whimsical tones against Rindou's monotone rebuttals. They're wearing casual clothes instead of the jumpsuits, Ran's hair is in braids as always, but Rindou...

The extra inches of hair does something to you. It flowed around his face like a lion's mane, faded blue streaks shining in the noon sun. He's wearing contacts instead of his frames, and his jaw is sharper than you ever remembered it. Fresh out of prison, and he looks every bit the king of carnage you adore.

Licking your lips, you saunter over to them. The clacking of your heels turn their heads, and they smirk at you. You could see Rindou tense for a split second before reigning himself back in. Once you get close enough, you rear a hand back and slam it against his cheek hard.

Then you grab him by the collar and smooch him right in front of the jail gates. His recovery is quick, and he pulls you close in a vice-grip. You press a thumb down his chin and take his tongue right from his mouth. The light graze of your teeth against the flat of it earns a growl from Rindou. You left me again, you fucking asshole you hiss as you pull away. You doubted he really heard you though, because he dived right to your neck after your liplock. You sigh, meeting eyes with a disgusted Ran.

This man is going to be the death of you one day.

Mitsuya Takashi:

Throughout your relationship, Mitsuya is nothing but gentle. It almost gave you whiplash how different he is when he's with you and when he's with Toman. He's more than happy to bash some scumbag's face in, yet he couldn't look you in the eye if he shows up to school bruised the next day. You're one of the reasons he got so good at dodging blows in the first place-all of this just to keep you from remembering just how dangerously he lives.

His carefulness translated through his affections, most of all. He didn't hold you, he cradled you. When he kissed you, you could practically feel the repressed passion just burning beneath the surface. He treats you as if you were a dandelion on a windy day.

And while you thought his unspoken sentiments are nothing short of chivalrous and sweet, you also found it quite stupid. You knew what you were getting into when he sheepishly confessed, knew about him being a captain of Toman's second division. So naturally, you'd braced yourself for all sorts of chaos. Plus, only having to witness one side of him irked something inside of you that you couldn't quite explain. You'd made it perfectly clear that you loved him, bruises and all. Yet when he looked at you with such adoring lavender eyes, you couldn't bear to chide him for wanting to treasure you.

So, you decided to show him through other means.

You're waiting for him to finish inside the sewing club room. He's finishing the hemline of a kimono-a birthday present he's preparing for Draken early on. His eyelids hang low, but his gaze is as intense as ever. Nothing is said between the two of you, but you can't help staring at his pursed lips, now bitten red from his habit when focusing. You internally proclaimed your love for him yet again, unable to stop yourself from wandering over to his hunched form.

Just as he looks up from the sewing machine, you dive in with a kiss that, even you had to admit, is a little too intense to be this sudden. Yet you couldn't help it; even the simplest things he did could turn you into quite the sap.

He doesn't fail to reciprocate it, though. His lips, a little rough and a bit wet, switch from caressing your top and bottom lip each time you return to each other. Somehow, it ended up with you sandwiched between him and his desk, thighs on either side of his hips. His hands never stay in one place, smoothing down your uniform and rubbing your back. He never strays too far down your waist, and that tang of frustration sours your sweet little moment yet again.

Bracing one hand on his shoulder and the other on his jaw, you grind down hard against him. His mouth drops open in a barely contained moan, and you close your lips around his tongue. The noise he made when you licked at it could've put BL voice actors to shame. His fingers rake against the sides of your hips, jolting you out of your sultry scenario and into a bout of giggles. And while you sit there steaming in your embarrassment at ruining such a delicious moment, he simply gapes at what just happened, his face stained a pretty crimson.

Well, that was awkward...but you wouldn't have had it any other way.

[moonlit-reveriee]

NSFW Alphabet

ft. technoblade

concept: a collection of my own personal nsfw headcanons for techno, one for each letter of the alphabet

@saturnsstufff ‘s discord saw it first ;)

A = Aftercare 

I like the idea that techno actually gets very clingy after sex. He’ll get up and grab a glass of water or a towel if either of you need it, but if he’s able to, he’ll stay glued to your side the whole time. Even if he won’t admit it, he needs to have that intimacy after sex. He loves the feeling of your body pressed against his as you both cool down. Usually, his hands will be absentmindedly drawing patterns over your skin

B = Body part 

Kind of an oddly specific one, but he loves your shoulders. He loves to casually rest his chin on them as he holds you from behind, and bury his face in the crook of your neck as he presses heated kisses on your pulse point. He also considers the way a person carries their shoulders to be an indication of their strength, and how could he see anything but strength in you.

He hadn’t put much thought into his own body before meeting you. He’s learned to love parts of himself because of you. Particularly his scars. They way you gently run your fingers across the rough surface of them, in both intimate and casual settings, made him crave the touch. Now when he looks at them, he thinks of your hands moving across his skin

C = Cum 

Fun fact: pigs have 30 minute orgasms

Early on in your sexual relationship, he was very embarrassed by just how much of it there always was. But once you started praising him for it, that became a very different story. He started to take pride in how well he could completely fill you up without even trying

D = Dirty Secret 

He would probably never admit it to you, but it’s become a habit of his to think about the last time he had sex with you during battles. He starts to make sure you two always have sex the night before a big fight, so his mind can wander back to it during the haze of battle. He’s not sure if it’s a coping mechanism or what but it certainly helps

E = Experience 

You are his first ever sexual partner, but somehow he just.... already knows what he’s doing?? He’s very nervous and considerate the first time, but he does everything perfectly. Once you tell him that, he’s very happy and secretly a bit proud of himself

F = Favourite Position 

He loooves to have you in his lap. Either facing him, back to chest, it doesn’t matter. He’ll do everything with you in his lap. Cockwarming, fingering, thigh riding, anything you and him are physically able to do in that position

G = Goofy 

He’s usually a bit more on the serious side. Sometimes the two of you will quip at each other during foreplay, but once he gets going, it’s all business. In the moment, he likes to treat is as something special (doesn’t mean he won’t tease you about things after the fact)

H = Hair 

He likes to keep himself clean-shaven most of the time. When he’s relaxed and doesn’t have to go to any public events for a long period of time, he’ll let a small amount of stubble grow on his chin. You can always tell when he slacks off on it, cause the stubble on his face brushes roughly against your skin as he kisses down your body...

he doesn’t really shave much below the neck, but he keeps it clean and trims occasionally

I = Intimacy 

He’s surprisingly romantic when he wants to be. It’s definitely a side of him only you’re allowed to see. Alone together in his bed, he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you as he slowly draws you to your climax. Even when he’s speaking the most lewd and naughty things to you, he somehow makes them sound affectionate and full of love

J = Jack Off 

He loves to watch you masturbate. The first time was a complete accident. He came home late one night to find you curled up with his blankets, breathing heavily as you massaged yourself over your underwear. It wasn’t long before you noticed him in the doorway and jumped, worthlessly attempting to hide what you were doing. He wasn’t sure if it was the blush on your face or the fact that the blanket you chose to cover yourself in was his cape but something urged him to sit on the edge of the bed, still in his armor, and ask you to continue. It was beautiful to simply sit there and watch

K = Kink 

He’s a little bit possessive. He loves to mark you in subtle ways so you always remember that you’re his. Especially if you’re going on a trip without him. He’ll drape you in gold jewelry and leave a hickey just out of sight on your neck for good measure. The part that he loves the most about it though, is that you know exactly what he’s doing and show off his signs of possession with pride

L = Location 

He prefers to keep most of your sexual acts to the area in and around his cottage. Other than in bed, he loves to press you up against a wall. Sometimes you two get distracted while tending to the farms and end up heatedly making out in the snow. One time, you decide you wanted to lay out some blankets on the floor and do it right in front of the fireplace. He adored the way the firelight danced across your skin. (He’s thought about taking you down to the syndicate room and laying you out across the table. But he came to the unfortunate conclusion that during meetings, he’d never be able to look anyone straight in the eyes ever again. So he’s shelved that idea for the time being. Maybe once the group has disbanded...)

M = Motivation

He loves to be praised by you. During regular day-to-day life, he doesn’t like to accept any compliments from you, usually just brushing them off or responding with a joke. But when you two are alone together and intimate, he drinks that shit up. How can he not believe it when you look up and him with lidded eyes and tell him just how good he makes you feel. Just moaning against his lips as he kisses you is enough to keep him going for a while

N = NO 

He will never do anything that involves seeing your own blood. It sets off the voices too much. One day, you randomly got a nosebleed while cooking dinner together. He could smell it before he even saw it. When the voices recognized the deep red color dripping down your face, they wouldn’t stop chanting. He tried to help you clean up, but it became too much to ignore. He had to go out back and slaughter at least a dozen zombies before they shut up. And even then, he was left with a pounding headache. You were extra gentle and sweet with him when you cuddled up in bed together that night

O = Oral 

If you’re on the receiving end, be prepared for him to be down there a looooong time. Once he gets his mouth on you, it’s hard for him to pull away. He loves your smell and taste too much. He tries not to get too carried away, but there was one time he made you come 5 times in a row with just his mouth. He was very thorough with his aftercare that night.

He isn’t the one receiving very often. He only really likes it when he’s tired. He loves to sit back in a chair and watch you gently suck him of on your knees in front of him, one hand gently weaving it’s way through your hair

P = Pace 

I always imagine him on the slower side. He likes to savor every moment, making sure that every thrust or movement of his hand is intentional and perfectly placed. He takes time to watch you carefully to make sure you’re getting exactly what you need. He’ll go harder before he goes faster

Q = Quickie 

As much as he loves to treasure your intimate time together, there are times where he just needs it. Every once and awhile, he’ll be desperate for it and quickly have you against the wall before heading out to run some errands. Sometimes he’ll pull you in, make you cum, and head out the door without saying a single word. He usually feels the need to make up for it when he returns, but you’ve assured him many times that you love sex with him at any pace

R = Risk 

Since he’s still fairly inexperienced despite his skills, he’s not super adventurous himself. More often than not, you’re the one bringing new ideas to the relationship. He’s willing to try the new things you suggest. You’ve had a discussion about your limits, and you both understand what goes too far for each other

S = Stamina 

He can go multiple times in a row if he wants to, and for a long time. He lowkey loves it when you tire out before him, and you let him keep going while you lie there sleepily in his arms

T = Toy 

He doesn’t own any sex toys, but he likes to make sex toys out of everyday objects (as long as they’re safe and properly cleaned of course). He likes the idea of never being able to look at that object the same way again, especially if it’s something either of you use around the house frequently. He would get his hands on some actual toys if you wanted him to. If toys are involved, he prefers them to be used on you, not on him

U = Unfair 

He likes to randomly tease you during moments that are absolutely not sexual. Maybe you’re brushing out his hair, complaining about the knots in it. He’ll suddenly respond with “that’s not what you told me in the bedroom last night” leaving you to sit there in shock while he laughs. Or he’ll quote things you said to him during sex completely deadpan and watch as the blush rises to your cheeks

V = Volume 

He’s not extremely loud. When he is loud though, he growls. You’ll be able to feels his chest vibrating when you lean into him. Sometimes you can even feel the vibrations through his lips as he pleasures you with his mouth, which is an absolutely crazy and wonderful feeling.

During very domestic moments, he likes to talk a lot during sex. If he comes home from working all day, and he’s missing you greatly, he loves to tell you all about his day while his cock gently rocks inside of you

W = Wild Card 

This part is definitely just gonna be me fulfilling one of my personal kinks, but I love the idea of techno going through a heat since he’s part piglin. Maybe it only happens like once a year, but when it’s that time, his senses are kicked into high gear and he’s desperate for you. The two of you have a routine for it by now. You prepare the bedroom by gathering every blanket in the house, and prepping a week’s worth of food & water that can be eaten quickly during the moments when techno’s haze of arousal drops. Once he feels it start to set in, he locks the bedroom door and allows his senses to become completely enveloped by you

X = X-Ray 

I like to believe that a lot of the hybrid races are PACKING. It’s one of the many things he’s nervous about on your first time, but seeing the way your able to take him so well every time is such a turn on

Y = Yearning 

Both you and him can be too tired to have sex at times, but if he’s able to have you, he’ll take everything he can get. He loves to take care of you if you’ve had a long day, and he knows you’ll do the same for him

Z = ZZZ 

If it’s nighttime sex, he can pass out as soon as aftercare is over. But if it’s morning or midday, he can have sex and go about the rest of his day no problem. Since his orgasms are so long, he likes to make you cum more often than he does, and watching you cum invigorates him

[smutophile]

Crime & Punishment (Steve Rogers x Reader)

Summary: Your CEO catches you in the office late at night watching naughty videos and decides to show you just how naughty girls are punished.

Warnings: Dub con, spanking, masturbation

Word count: 3k

You sat at your desk and watched the sun start to set on another dreary New York Friday. The rest of the staff on your level had left almost over an hour ago but you had agreed to be the one to stay behind to assist the West Coast should any problems arise. The pro was getting to start work later but the obvious con was sitting alone in an office building late at night whilst the rest of your co-workers started their weekend.

It didn't bother you so much. You lived alone - you worked alone. You were used to being alone. The night shift in the office was quiet. California very rarely ever called you with problems at this time of night. It was peaceful. You’d do what you always do when you had quiet time. You pulled out your phone and escaped into your fantasy world that would always stay just that - a fantasy.

You read your dirty stories, your smut. You looked around to make sure you really were alone. Nobody wandered down to your level at this time of night. You hadn’t seen your boss in weeks - he only showed up when something was wrong so the less you saw of him the better. Although - he wasn’t so hard on the eyes. Steve Rogers - CEO. Young for a CEO but such a babe. Strong muscular build with a beard that just screams daddy. It was no wonder when you read your stories, the dark mysterious man always morphed into a familiar face in your mind. The things you would love that man to do to you.

Lost in your daydream you kept scrolling, not paying attention to the world around you. Lost in your own fantasies. You failed to notice footsteps approaching your desk. Failed to notice the figure looming behind you. Watching as you scrolled through videos of naughty schoolgirls having their bottoms turned a nice shade of pink.

“You know - watching porn on work time is punishable by immediate termination”

The boding voice made you jump out of your seat, your phone falling out of your hands and straight to Mr Rogers’ feet.

“I didnt..I wasn’t...i’m sorry” You stuttered...desperately trying to grab the phone from the ground and stop the video that was playing. It was too late. Your boss had the phone in his hands and could see all too well what you had been doing.

“Are you going to try to tell me this was an accident? You just stumbled across this website and accidentally watched this video?” He spoke so smoothly with a smirk adorning his face.

You were silent. What could you say? You had just been caught red handed by the very person you had been fantasizing about.

He turned your phone off and placed it on the desk next to you. You kept your eyes down and twisted your fingers in your hands. You stared at the ground and prayed that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. This was the most humiliating moment of your life. It couldn't get any worse.

“I could fire you…” He paused. Another smirk lining his face. “Or we could come up with another punishment to fit the crime”

“Anything...please. I need this job” Your voice was shaky. But you were confident. If he was willing to give you another chance you would take it.

“Oh sweetheart, you shouldn't go making deals with the devil. You are bound to get burnt”

He closed the gap between you and lifted your chin to meet his eyes.

“Bend over the desk”

You hesitated. Had you heard him correctly? He couldn't be serious. You searched his eyes to see if he was joking.

“Or you can pack your things and leave and never return. Which will it be?”

He crossed his arms. His face was hard to read. This man was strong and intimidating but this was coercion. Was he really capable of this?

The fear was evident in your body language but deep down there was a part of you that was secretly excited by the prospect of what was to come.

You moved slowly but efficiently. You laid your body over the desk and stretched your arms out in front of you. You could no longer see Steve but you could feel him. He ran his fingers down your spine. Your body was scared - the hairs on your arms standing up. But your mind - your mind was racing with all the possibilities of what was about to happen.

Steve placed his hands at the base of your skirt and lifted it slowly to reveal your white cotton panties. Your cheeks reddened with embarrassment. Of course you hadn't thought to put on sexy lacy underwear. Nobody would see them. He rolled the skirt all the way up to your waist and left it there with your ass on display.

“Hmmmm - what to do with you?” He questioned. You’d never heard him so satisfied. You only ever heard him barking orders or demanding answers. This was a completely different voice. A voice which quite literally sent shivers down your spine.

“Have you ever been spanked before?” You could hear him rolling up the sleeves on his dress shirt. Running his fingers over your underwear.

“No” You shook your head. You had imagined it in your head over and over again but you could never voice your fantasies out loud.

He quickly pulled your ponytail sharply - snapping your head up off the desk.

“No - what?” He spoke forcibly. Now your body was terrified. Your legs shaking and sweat started forming on your forehead.

“No...sir?” You phrased it as more of a question than a statement. Not sure exactly what he was looking for but desperate to please him.

He released your hair and gently pushed your face back down onto the desk. Apparently that was the right answer.

“I think ten smacks with my hand will be a good start. You don’t need to count”

He walked around to the side to give himself the room that he needed. Your heart was beating so fast and so loud you were almost certain he could hear it.

The first smack took you by surprise. A lard thud on your right butt cheek. The surprise of the hit shocked you more than the pain did. It wasn't so bad. You could take 10 of these. Especially with your underwear on to protect you. You were at least grateful for that small mercy.

He didn't wait very long for the next smack. This one hurt a little more. You let out the breath you had been holding but still didn't speak a word. You tried hard to keep your mouth closed throughout the next few hits but the pain was increasing. His delicate hands crashing down on your ass in quick succession alternating from left to right. You could feel tears filling in your eyes. From pain or humiliation you weren't sure.

At about smack number 5 you let out your first yelp. What you thought would come out as a cry of pain sounded more like a moan of pleasure. The spanking hurt and Steve was not holding back. He barely waited between each hit and showed no sign of slowing down. You were not enjoying this. You couldn't. This was supposed to hurt but you felt your body betraying you. Or was your mind betraying your body?

At smack number 10 you finally let the tears spill over from your eyes but still keeping your mouth closed. It quivered but you wouldn't dare speak or let him hear you. You could feel him rub his hand over your bottom in a surprising show of kindness. He gently ran his hand up your back and flicked the hair out of your face and to one side.

“That's a good girl. Take a deep breath for me now” His words were like music to your ears. You had no idea how much you wanted to please him. How much you wanted him to be happy with you. You followed his instructions and took a big gulp of air. You kept your body laying over the desk - too scared to move or do anything that could upset him.

“You did so well for your first time. Lets see if you liked what I did to you”

Your tears were almost gone now. Your shock and fear were replaced by a whole new range of emotions. Excitement...lust.

He dipped his fingers into your panties and dragged them down to your feet. He helped you lift up to your feet one by one and placed the panties in his pocket. He kicked your feet apart and forced your body to spread itself on display.

“Oh my - you certainly did enjoy your spanking”

You buried your face into the desk and curled your fingers in embarrassment. You wanted to tell yourself you didn't enjoy what he was doing to you. The pain was intense but you couldn't hide the juices leaking out of your pussy and graciously down your thighs. You were beyond wet. You were dripping.

Steve ran a finger through your slit and the moan that escaped your lips could not be controlled. He held his glistening fingers up to the light and inspected your arousal.

Your body was on fire. The spanking had left your behind burning but your pussy was throbbing. Your clit felt electric and you tried desperately to get the much needed friction on it to give you a spark.

Steve could see you rubbing your cunt against the desk desperately like a dog on heat. You were past the point of caring now. Humiliation had taken a back seat now and the driver was your absolute need to orgasm. There was no other thought - you had never needed to get off more than at this very moment.

Steve dipped his fingers back to your slit and ran them up towards your clit eliciting yet another guttural moan from your lips. His touch felt like a live wire had just been connected to your pussy and you were being electrocuted.

He removed his finger after just a brush against your clit and watched you try desperately for more. More friction...more anything. You needed more.

“Get up on the desk. On your hands and knees” He ordered. That was the voice you were used to. The one that always got what he wanted. Nobody questioned him when he demanded something and this wasn’t a question. It was an order. Who were you to disobey?

You complied instantaneously. Keeping your head forward and lifting your body up onto the table on full display for Steve to see. He pushed your shoulders down so that you were on your elbows but still keeping your ass in the air. Your body shivered in anticipation.

You could still feel the heat on your ass from your spanking. It felt as though welts might appear in the shape of his hand prints. That thought got you even more excited. A temporary reminder of what had happened tonight. That this was real.

Steve placed an object in your hand. It was small - cylindrical shaped. Almost like a tube of lipstick. Except - he flicked a switch on the object and you instantly knew what this was. The vibrations ran all down your arm. It was tiny but powerful. A bullet vibrator. He had this in his pocket? You’d have to come back to that thought later. Right now all you knew is that you were naked from the waist down, horny as fuck and you had a vibrator in your hands.

“I want to see you cum” He stated matter of factly. How you wished you could see his face right now. But then again, your boss is looking at your ass and pussy on full display right now. Maybe not being able to look him in the eyes is a good thing.

You took the bullet in your hand and slipped it straight down to your clit. The sensation made you jolt immediately and almost threw you off balance. Steve was still there, his hands on your hips instantaneously to steady you. You got back to work and placed the vibrator back on that sensitive bundle of nerves. It wouldn’t take long for you to get off like this. It would be embarrassingly quick.

SMACK. You heard the smack before you felt the familiar burn of the hit on your ass.

“Ow...fuck” You were not prepared for that. Of course he wasn't going to make this easy for you. Your hand holding the vibrator had slipped back onto the desk to steady yourself from the new onslaught.

“Put that back on your clit now” His voice was low but menacing. Your need to please him...to obey him was back. Your body quickly following his command before your brain could even comprehend what you were doing.

The sting from his hit had faded slightly but the burn remained. The fire was spreading to your cunt and whilst the spanking had put a small delay in your orgasm, it still wouldn't take long. The fight between pain and pleasure in your mind was confusing but pleasure was winning. It always would.

“9 more smacks and then you can cum. Don’t you dare cum before i’ve hit you 10 times” That made things a little more complicated. His voice was threatening. You couldn’t let him down. Not now.

You placed the bullet back on your clit and your body shook with excitement. You were more prepared for the next hit but you were not prepared for the reaction your body would have to the pain. As if on cue, you could feel that familiar sensation in your body. Your orgasm was quickly building. The next two hits came in quick succession. Your legs started to quiver. Your head started to shake back and forth. No no no no. It was happening too fast.

He kept spanking, switching between each butt cheek and alternating where he hit. You barely noticed the pain - instead focusing on how many slaps were landing on your sore behind.

“Please...PLEASE…” You were begging. Desperately. That was the only word you could say right now. Unable to form sentences. Your brain was unable to function right now as your pussy was in charge and nothing else in the world mattered. The sensation had moved from your belly down to your clit and was going to explode any second now. You counted. Nine...Ten...and then - nothing. You were floating...as if there was nothing around you. No desk...no office...just darkness. And then as if you had fallen straight back to earth - your orgasm ripped into you. The feeling took over you as if you had been hit by a freight train. Your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm and your pussy clenched in on itself as it rode out the shockwaves with the rest of your body.

You dropped the bullet onto the desk and curled yourself into a ball. Your body still shaking from the aftershock of the most intense orgasm you had ever had in your life. Your breathing was staggered...almost to the point of hyperventilating. ‘As your senses slowly started coming back to you, you could feel Steve’s hands rubbing your ass. Smoothing away the pain.

The reality of what you had just done was starting to sink in. An overwhelming sense of dread taking over your body. Your body was now choosing between fight and flight and running away seemed like the best option right now. You snapped your head up to look at the culprit behind these feelings and your body followed quickly after. You stood up off the desk and peeled your skirt back down to give yourself a tiny bit of dignity back.

You slammed your laptop shut and slid it straight into your bag. You grabbed your phone and handbag and swung around to get out of here as quickly as possible.

“Hey hey hey...wait…” His voice was calm, soothing almost. His arms out as they tried to stop you from your escape. Trying to placate you and reason with you. You were beyond reasoning right now.

The tears were back and you could feel a sob building in the back of your throat.

“I can’t….I have to go” You managed to squeak out without sobbing. You started to head for the elevator before his hands were on you again.

“Please...just stop. Let’s talk about this” He was always the voice of reason. A smart business man like him...he knew how to get his way.

“No...i just...I have to go” Your quivering lip giving away your emotion that you were trying to keep bubbled inside of you. You swerved from his grasp and pressed the button on the elevator. He kept his distance from you sensing your fear. You got in and pressed the button for the lobby and kept your head down. Not able to look at him. You didn't want to see his face. His pity. You just needed to get out.

Your trip home was a blur. Somehow you put one foot in front of the other and found yourself in your apartment. Alone. Confused. Angry. A shower would wash away the shame that was enveloping your body. You stripped away your clothes only vaguely registering the fact that you were still missing your underwear.

Once the steam had started to rise from the shower indicating that the water was indeed scolding hot - you slowly placed your head under the spray and let the cascade wash away your tears. You ran your hands through your hair and ran it down your body until they landed on your butt. There was that reminder. That physical painful reminder of the shameful slutty act you had done. The guilt washed over you like a slap in the face.

You allowed yourself to be spanked...by your boss and you masturbated yourself to a mind blowing orgasm...in front of your boss. You consented to this. When you allowed yourself time to think about the severity of what you had done you realized with absolute certainty that you had enjoyed it. You loved it. You craved it. It was everything you had ever wanted and more.

After an eternity, you left the sanctum of your shower and dressed in your pajamas. You grabbed your phone and switched it back on. Nobody would be looking for you. There would be no messages. Except there was. A few missed calls and a text. From an unknown number.

Please let me know that you got home ok.

Your fingers hovered over the phone. Before you could reply a calendar invite popped up.

Meeting. 8pm. Monday night. Steve Rogers office.

Accept or Decline?