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littlefireball · 3 months

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ᴄꜱ|ᴀꜱ ᴀ ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ'ꜱ ɢɪꜰᴛ (ᴍ)

ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ! ꜱᴀɴ x ʜᴜᴍᴀɴ! ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 2.2ᴋ

Today is San's 126th birthday, a milestone that you are excited to celebrate together for the first time. As you browse through the boutique, you ponder what gift would truly surprise and delight him.

With his long life and myriad experiences, you find yourself at a loss, wondering if there is anything left that he desires. He has tasted different blood types, found his soulmate, and even shared intimate moments with you. What more could he possibly want?

As you struggle to come up with the perfect gift, you realize that perhaps it's not about fulfilling a desire, but rather about showing your love and appreciation for him.

Memories of the ‘marking’ flood your mind, stirring up a mix of emotions and thoughts. You blush at the sudden rush of impure fantasies, quickly pushing them aside.

You still vividly remember the details of that day, and for some reason, it awakens desires that have been dormant for a while. As you look up, you realize you've unknowingly wandered to the entrance of the restricted zone.

"Um... When did they have these things..." Another impure thought crosses your mind.

"Give myself to him as a gift."

"Ah ah ah! What am I thinking!" You cover your blushing cheeks, feeling the heat radiating from them, and your fingertips start sweating.

Feeling more and more embarrassed, you suddenly notice someone approaching.

"Damn! Why is someone here?" In order to avoid an awkward encounter, you swiftly grab a red piece of clothing and quickly pay before leaving. You haven't even looked at the details of the lingerie, but you assume San will like it since it's red.

Finally, back at home, even though you're alone, you cautiously make your way to the bathroom, ensuring no one can see you. You take out the mysterious lingerie from the packaging.

"Oh my god, what did I buy?!" This lingerie is completely outside of your comfort zone.

"This is more like underwear than lingerie!"

Feeling a mix of reluctance and determination, you reluctantly sift through the lingerie, pondering, "What am I supposed to do with this?"

Despite your initial uncertainty, you find yourself unable to come up with an alternative gift idea.

"Just this once, for his birthday," you concede as you slip into the delicate attire. Avoiding your reflection in the mirror, you keep your gaze lowered as you navigate the unfamiliar garments.

"It does feel quite airy..." you admit, noting the discomfort of the open slit in the panties. Awkwardly crossing your legs and nervously biting your lip, you can't shake off the self-conscious feeling.

To complete the look, you decide to don a sheer red outer robe from the package. The crimson fabric drapes elegantly over your fair skin, accentuating your curves and adding a touch of allure to your appearance. Despite feeling a bit exposed, you can't deny the allure of the outfit.

Still hesitant, you linger in the living room, the cool breeze between your legs adding to your unease with each step. Reminding yourself of the goal to surprise San, you muster up the courage to head into the kitchen and start preparing dinner.

"Maybe I should have changed after cooking," you grumble to yourself as you whip up San's favorite dish, blood wine.

Carefully, you slice open your chest with a knife, extracting a few drops of blood and mixing it with a potent liquor from the fridge to create the unique concoction.

"Okay, done.But this lingerie..." You still can't get used to it. Thus, you decide to put on one of San's shirts, which conveniently reaches your thighs. Sitting on the bed, you anxiously wait for San to return.

"I'm back." The sound of the door opening and San's approaching footsteps quicken your heartbeat, the rhythm echoing in your ears.

San, puzzled by his own racing heart, reaches for the light switch as you gather your courage and step out of the shadows.

"Why haven't you turned it on..." His words trail off as you wrap your arms around his neck, tilting your head to meet his lips with a soft, sweet kiss.

A smile plays on your lips as you wish him a happy birthday, surprising both him and yourself with your boldness.

"Come, I've prepared your favorites," you say, taking his hand and guiding him to the dining table. The candlelight dances around the room, casting a warm glow that highlights the crystal chandelier above, creating a mesmerizing play of light and shadow on the walls.

As he follows you, his gaze lingers on your outfit - a simple white shirt that hints at the red lingerie beneath, a tantalizing sight in the flickering candlelight. A sudden warmth spreads through him, and he swallows hard, feeling a stirring in his lower body.

You offer him the wine glass, a mischievous glint in your eye as you reveal the special blend of your blood with his favorite wine. He raises an eyebrow in surprise, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes, making him look utterly charming.

Curiously, he takes a sniff of the concoction, the sweet metallic scent filling his senses. Unable to resist, he takes a sip, savoring the perfect blend that glides smoothly over his tongue, leaving a tantalizing mix of wine's aroma and a honey-like sweetness.

"Do you like it?" you ask, a playful smile tugging at your lips. He nods in approval, setting the glass down. You snatch the glass from his grasp, his expression a mix of confusion and intrigue.

With a mischievous glint in your eye, you pour the wine over your body, the crimson liquid cascading over your curves and pooling at your feet. The once-white shirt now stained with the vibrant red wine, revealing hints of your skin and alluring pajamas underneath.

You press a finger to his lips, a seductive smile playing on your lips as you raise a thigh and press it between his legs. With narrowed eyes, you whisper, "This is not how you drink wine.”

San pulls you closer, his gaze fixed on your lips as he whispers, "Is it?" Your lips parted eagerly, inviting his kiss.

As your tongues danced in a sweet, sensual rhythm, a trail of saliva lingered between you when you finally broke apart. San's breath grows hot against your skin as he savors the taste of wine and the scent of your arousal.

With a quick flick of his tongue, he traces the contours of your body, his touch igniting a fire within you. Your shirt falls open, revealing the alluring lingerie that accentuates your curves.

San's heart races at the sight of your figure, and he can't resist burying his face in the softness of your breasts.

"I love your lingerie so much," he murmurs, trailing kisses down your chest and exploring every curve with reverence.

His touch sends shivers down your spine, your body responding eagerly to his every caress. As his hands roam lower, he discovers your lack of inhibitions, and his desire surges even more intensely.

"It's open," he confesses, your cheeks flush with embarrassment. A satisfied smile crosses his lips as he delves between your thighs, offering you unbridled pleasure.

His gentle kisses and playful nips elicits a chorus of gasps and moans from you, your body arching in ecstasy. He licks your clit slowly and gently with a steady rhythm. Sucking your sweet juices, he circles your clit with his long fingers.

"San...Ah!" you moan, your words lose in a haze of pleasure as he skillfully guides you to the peak of ecstasy. Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your hands tangling in his hair as you lose yourself in the intoxicating pleasure he bestowed upon you.

“You’re so delicious, just like the blood wine.”

He stands tall, pressing his lips against yours once more before gently guiding you to lie down on the dining table. Your body stretches out on the smooth surface, legs entwined with his, hands caressing his face as your mouths danced in a passionate embrace. Breath mingles between you, creating a shared rhythm of desire.

“Please…” “I have to fuck you now.”

With practice ease, your hands find their way to his pants, releasing the confines around his lower body. His touch grazes your garter, causing your bra to shift and accentuating the curves of your breasts. A soft gasp escapes your lips as he nibbles at your chest, leaving a trail of tingling sensation in his wake.

Straightening his body, he positions himself at your core, seeking permission with a silent gaze. A nod from you and he enters, eliciting a gasp of pleasure as you feel him fill the void within you.

“Ah!! So big!!” You throw your head at the back and moan out.

The sensation is intense, almost overwhelming, yet perfectly satisfying as he moves with a steady rhythm, each thrust igniting a symphony of pleasure between you.

Moans of ecstasy filled the air, mingling with the sound of skin meeting skin in a symphony of desire. His movements grow more urgent, driving deeper and harder, each thrust a symphony of passion and fulfillment.

Your moans escalate, a chorus of pleasure that echoed through the room, mingling with his own primal sounds of lust.

As the intensity peaks, he flips you over, pressing your chest against the table as he enters you from behind. Each new angle, each shift in position, brings a fresh wave of sensation, hitting your sweet spot with precision and driving you to new heights of pleasure.

“So fucking tight, babe.”

His voice, husky with desire, urged you to open your eyes, to meet his gaze in the midst of ecstasy.

Struggling to comply, your vision blurs with pleasure as his touch roams your body, teasing and tantalizing every inch of your skin. His lips find yours once more, a wet and hungry kiss that leaves you breathless, lost in a whirlwind of sensation.

“Gosh!!Fuck!!” You can’t help but swear.

“Such a dirty mouth.”

His hands move to your breasts, caressing and squeezing, sending shivers of delight through you as he plays with your nipples, each touching a promise of more to come.

“Please…I am gonna…cum”

“No you can’t just hold it.”

He flips you over, lifting you effortlessly and carrying you to the sofa. Your position shifts as you straddle him, his back against the sofa.

"Ride me," his voice, a seductive melody that compels you to obey without hesitation. Placing your hands on his shoulders for balance, you begin to move with a slow, tantalizing rhythm. Each bounce sends a shiver of pleasure through you as you feel him deep inside you, his cock pulsing with desire.

As you picked up the pace, the friction between your bodies intensified, the sound of your skin meeting filling the room as both of you moaned in unison.

“Please, san!I can't.”

“Can’t what?”

“Pretty please… let me cum…!”

“Okay, just cum, babe. You did well.”

His primal instincts take over, and he can’t resist sinking his teeth into your chest, a mix of pleasure and pain sending a rush of sensation through you.

“Oh my god!” You reach the peak of ecstasy, climaxing hard on his cock, but he shows no signs of slowing down.

"But I didn't say you could stop," “What…?” You can feel his cock still hard and even become bigger, wondering if it’s an illusion or reality. He pushes forward as a punishment, his tip goes so deep inside as if breaking your limit and causing you a little bit of pain.

“Shit, sannie.”

“Call me this again or I can't hold back.”

Before finishing his words, his fangs found their mark, piercing your skin as a rush of blood flowed between you.

“You know what, darling. Your blood is so sweet, so tasty! I can't get enough of it.”

He savors your essence, pinning you beneath him as he shifts your legs over his shoulders, thrusting with a primal intensity that bordered on inhuman.

“Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!San-Sannnn!!!!!!Slow…..!!!” He ignores your pleas and continues sprinting. The intense love making finally reaches its climax as San releases inside you before you reach your own peak.

Reluctantly pulling away from your lips, he gazes at you with narrowed eyes, withdrawing from within you. Gasping for air, he rests his forehead against yours, feeling the fatigue spread through your bodies.

"Happy birthday, my San," you weakly whispered. He blinks, a silly smile playing on his lips as he pecks yours, teasing, "Are you my birthday present?" "Of course, aren't I? I summoned all my courage to wear this lingerie, not to mention my heart's blood," you replied.

He smiles indulgently, "Thank you, I love you. But can't you wear this lingerie every day?" Wide-eyed, you pat his chest, "Dream on." He pouts, rubbing against your chest in an attempt to coax you.

"Impossible, I won't be able to leave the bed," you turn away, avoiding his wolfish gaze.

"Oh? Admitting I'm skilled?"

"You... you..." at a loss for words, you glance around in a fluster, giving him a soft smack, "Don't ask questions you already know the answer to."

Pushing his chest, you make a dash for the bathroom. "Where are you going?" He catches up, desires still unfulfilled.

The next day, you struggle to get out of bed, your sore waist making movement difficult.

"Shouldn't have bought that lingerie," you mutter. Despite your words, your body spoke differently as you quietly ordered lingerie online that you knew he would love.

"Why didn't I do this before? Am I foolish?" you chuckle. Looking at the lingerie, erotic thoughts stirred once more.

"Am I becoming addicted?" Blushing, you bury your face in the covers, tossing and turning. Both of your desires remained unfulfilled.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez smut #ateez x female reader #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez oneshot #ateez san

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celestemagnoliathewriter · 9 months

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Knives and the House of Black

You know who loves knives? Members of the Black family, that's who. In my newer writings, I've been exploring knives and what they can do for the Black family. This is based in canon - Bellatrix has her handy dagger, which kills Dobby and wounds Hermione (and who knows who else), and Sirius gifts Harry a knife that can open doors (until the blade is destroyed). Personally I love the idea of the Black family having a love affair with knives.

In my micro fic for the @ladiesofhpfest's mini yesterday in honor of Bellatrix Black Lestrange, I introduced a tradition of Black family witches and wizards getting knives on their 13th birthdays. This tradition came out of the world building I'm doing in my Tedromeda/Remadora AU, Supernova. I've pre-written a good bit of the work, which includes some knife head canons. I'm happy to share them here, and if you're reading Supernova, you'll see how they all fit into the story as it goes on.

HCs for Black family knives:

Knives are goblin-wrought and imbued with a ton of familial magic. Droplets of Black family blood are folded into the silver to create a particular blood magic that prevents Black family members from harming each other with their knives. The blade dulls if it touches another family member.

How related do you have to be? The magic holds with concentration, so once you get past grandparents, it's lethal. E.g. Scorpius Malfoy and Teddy Lupin couldn't hurt each other because their grandmothers were Blacks, but their children could hack each other apart if they wanted to. This also means that Black family members' spouses are fair game - e.g. Bellatrix can play with Rodolphus as much as she likes (and she really likes).

The knives have magic of their own: when they're 13, the knives have the basic Black family magic, but when they turn 17, the knives have gotten to know their owner enough that a new, unique type of magic is revealed. (See below for each of their magics!)

The knife *always* returns to its owner unless its magic is modified or the owner is deceased. If the knife is stolen or lost, it'll come back the next day.

Black family witches wear their knives around their thighs. The holsters are lightweight and barely noticeable. The holster is made of leather and the blade cleans itself within. Black family wizards keep them on their arms or in their pockets. The witches usually get daggers and the wizards usually get pocketknives. Either way, they're self-cleaning so they don't have to worry about dirty blood on their bodies.

The Black family magic can't be taken away, even if someone is disowned.

The knives are long enough to pierce the heart, or can be extended to do so.

The witches' daggers tend to be very ornate looking, with flowers, stars, or other patterns engraved in the handles. They're innocent looking until you're being stabbed and losing consciousness. Yay!

The wizards' knives are handsome and practical-looking. They look like ordinary pocketknives most of the time until you realize that they're about to shank you.

Now, for specific HCs on what the knives can do for each family member when they turn 17 (this is an incomplete list - it's what I have so far for Supernova, which is mostly centered on the Black family witches):

Walburga: her knife BURNS. If she's stabbing you with her dagger, it's going to scorch your skin and make your blood boil. Ouch.

Orion: his pocketknife is Walburga's opposite. It freezes, so imagine getting stabbed in the heart and then having your heart grow cold at the same time. Goodbye life.

Alphard: his pocketknife is a dual-purpose compass. It can give him directions as needed, but also points to what he most desires (think Jack Sparrow's special compass).

Cygnus: his knife temporarily blinds its victim. Not only can he stab you, but you'll be blinded for a hot minute, which makes it hard to escape.

Bellatrix: her knife ALWAYS leaves a mark. She can carve whatever she wants into whoever she wants. That scar is never going away.

Andromeda: her knife doubles as an escape. She can swish it around and create a quick bubble with which she can Apparate away as needed.

Narcissa: her knife changes shape according to her wish. This is useful with potions, but extra useful if she wants to inflict maximum damage on someone by using a serrated blade.

Sirius: his knife is the pocketknife that opens any door. He's clever enough to change the magic on it so he can gift it to Harry, because he's had enough of his family and Harry has more use for it now.

Regulus: his knife becomes invisible to anyone but him. It's an excellent way of being able to sneakily attack someone. You think he's going in for a hug or a handshake and boom, bye-bye life.

Nymphadora/Dora: this is particular to Supernova, my story, as she's being raised under different circumstances. Her dagger will heal her. When she runs her blade against a wound on her body (and her body alone) it will seal itself.

It's all fun, games, and knives, until one of them is fucking you up with their knife and having a fabulous time doing so.

#the black family #nymphadora tonks #regulus black #sirius black #narcissa black #andromeda black #bellatrix black #orion black #cygnus black #alphard black #walburga black #the marauders #marauders era #knives #the black sisters #hp fandom #my headcanons

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sp00kymulderr · 9 months

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part 2 of gift wrapped

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x afab!reader

Warnings: 18+. unprotected p in v, sex toys, cursing, drug mention, dieter continuing to be ridiculous but he just loves you so much. Unedited drivel.

Word Count: 1k

Summary: Dieter has another gift for you

A/N: This one goes out to my darling @chronically-ghosted who is forever encouraging of the bravo brainrot, and in fact often makes it much worse. Love ya, Taylor! Merry Christmas! Comments and reblogs forever appreciated. To follow for fic updates only go to @sp00kyupdates or see taglist details on my masterlist. Header by me. Credit to banner maker.

It wasn’t exactly the Christmas Eve you’d planned.

It was significantly better.

Getting railed by your boyfriend under the sparkling lights of the Christmas tree; room full of the sounds of moans, the slap of skin on skin, the jingling antlers that were now atop his head as he fucked you from behind to the rhythm of Jingle Bell Rock playing in the background.

“Dee...fucking...don’t...stop…” You were crying out, face practically buried against the carpet, his hand softly pressing between your shoulder blades before smoothing down to join his other in gripping your hips tight. All the while, jingle jingle jingle with every shake and shiver and somehow the ridiculous noise is only getting you wetter and closer.

“C-cookie you’re so...ah fuck” Dieter groans behind you, slowing down his movements to press deep and hard into you as he nears his peak, making you reach back and claw his flesh desperately. Your body feels like the Christmas trifle, all jelly and cream, as he pulls you apart in ways only Dieter knows how.

The track changes to something slower and more mellow just as his fingers slide soft from your hip and down over your stomach, before finding their place at your clit. Your whole body shudders in ecstasy and you push back hard on him as you come once more.

Dieter follows moments after, a guttural moan stuttering out of him accented by the bells and more beautiful than any christmas carol. He mutters something breathless about ‘dipping his cookie in his milk’ that you choose to ignore as he leans all the way down and presses a kiss to your back.

Yeah, much better than the evening of family phone calls and Christmas day prep you’d had planned.

You’re both silent for a few moments, catching your breath as the dulcet tones of East 17 play on in the background and the antlers fall off somewhere behind him. Dieter eventually slipping out of you and finding his place next to you on the carpet to bask in the afterglow, and in the illumination of the tree lights.

“Best present ever?” He asks with that confident smile even as you scoff at him.

“Wasn’t on my list. But…best present ever” You grin back, turning on your side to face him and letting your eyes once again wander the glory of your boyfriend laid bare before you. He really is gorgeous, every inch of him.

Dieter props up on his elbow and rests his head on his large palm as he watches you back. Love abounds beneath those deep brown eyes. He chews on his bottom lip for a moment before responding.

“Got you something else. Well, a few things but one you should definitely open tonight” He’s already sitting and reaching over you to the gifts beneath the tree to find the one he meant. Your brow furrows.

“Baby, we’re opening presents tomorrow. You know, when my family gets here” You remind him as you sit yourself up too.

He huffs out a little bit of a laugh that has you suspicious. There’s that mischievous look on his face again, the one he often has when he’s high and has a ‘great idea’ (much as you suspect was how his gift wrapped dick had come about).

“I don’t think you want to open this one in front of your family, cookie” Dieter mutters lowly.

“Oh god” is about all you can return, but you’re not exactly not intrigued. Dieter had always had a unique idea of gift giving. Like that birthday when you’d just started dating and he’d signed you both up for goat yoga at a retreat in Switzerland.

“Come on cookie. Let me spoil you”

He hands you the present. It’s pretty heavy, in a rectangular box and wrapped about as well as he’d wrapped his cock before. You give him one more look of uncertainty, which he returns with a sly wink, before giving in and ripping open the present.

The box is unassuming, sleek matte black with no notable information on it. When you open the box though, it’s not what you expect. Maybe you should have known.

“So…are all my presents gonna be dick themed?” You laugh, as you pull a silicone dildo from the box.

“Just the really good ones” Dieter smirks back, still watching you like a hawk as if waiting for you to realise something.

You examine the thing for a moment, taking in the features of the realistic looking thing before the other shoe drops.

“Oh. Oh my god. This is…”

It’s a near perfect silicone copy of his cock. Shape and ridges and that slight curve, girth and length. It’s practically exact.

“Mine” Dieter nods with a proud look as you hold the thing in your palms and look between it and the real one.

“Not one of those cheap kits either. Got a buddy who runs this sex toy business, real high end quality shit” He continues enthusiastically as you continue to stare at the toy. It feels good in your hands. It’d definitely feel good inside you and he knows you know it with the way he’s watching you.

Fuck, he’s got you horny again.

“So you got your friend to make a dildo of your own dick, just for me?” You ask softly.

“Yeah” He answers, rubbing his neck in sudden uncertainty as if he’s just realised you might not like it. “You know…since I’m away a lot with the filming schedule so tight. It’s-”

It’s really kind of oddly sweet. His way of taking care of your needs in those times he can’t be there. You do like his cock a lot, after all.

“I love it” You smile, practically jumping in to his lap to kiss him.

Dieter’s joy returns tenfold as he kisses you back passionately and excitedly. It’s a gesture of love, in his own way, and that you see it that way too just cements how meant for each other you are.

“Merry Christmas, cookie” He mumbles against your lips, pulling back to continue “You wanna try it out?” with a wiggle of his brows.

“Fuck yes I do” You respond immediately and with enthusiasm.

“Good” He reaches into a bag to grab something.

Ah, a bottle of lube. Christmas cookie flavour, of course.

“Because I’ve got an idea or two”

#Dieter bravo x reader #Dieter bravo x you #Dieter Bravo smut #pedro pascal characters #pedrostories #this was a slapdash attempt because I had about an hour to write it all so ignore the many many mistakes #also ignore how ugly the header is I was rushing

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cottoncandyafterdark · 5 months

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Hyoga SFW Alphabet

Tags: SFW, fluff, headcanons, alphabet meme

Warnings: None

Notes: Originally posted on ao3 here

A: Affection (How affectionate are they with a s/o?)

Not very, at least when it comes to physical affection. He's particularly against public displays of affection, but you might be able to get a little more out of him in private. Normally the most you'll get from him is an arm around your shoulders, or a similar possessive gesture just so everyone around knows you're taken.

B: Breath (What can their s/o do to take their breath away)

Show off what you're good at. He's particularly impressed by combat abilities, but he'll appreciate any talents you have that could be useful.

C: Cuddle (Do they cuddle? If they do, how and when do they cuddle?)

It depends heavily on his mood. He won't shove you away or anything, but a lot of the time trying to cuddle Hyoga is like trying to cuddle a brick wall. However, sometimes, while falling asleep, or after sex, or if he's just alone with you in a really good mood, he'll put an arm around you and hold you close to him.

D: Dream (What do they dream of doing with their s/o?)

When you became an important part of his life, he essentially inserted you into the dreams he already had. He wants to lead a new world where only the worthy will have the privilege of surviving, and he thinks you not only deserve to be part of that world, he wants you to stay by his side, rule with him, and experience all the perks that come with being the lover of the man in charge.

E: Effort (How much effort do they put into a relationship?)

More than you notice or realize. He doesn't call attention to the effort he puts into the relationship so it can easily be overlooked.

F: Fear (What do they do if their s/o is scared? How do they handle it?)

Are you scared because a person or some other living thing is threatening you? He'll kill it. He's not as good at helping you deal with more abstract or irrational fears. He'll help get you away from whatever's scaring you or distract you from it, but he'll be a little disappointed that you'd let something scare you that can't actually hurt you.

G: Gifts (What type of gifts do they give their s/o? Do they want a gift in return?)

Hyoga isn't too big on gift-giving, but he will give you gifts on special occasions, like if it's your birthday or something. He goes for practical gifts, things you can actually use and might need, like winter clothes or some kind of tool that would help make your hobby or job a little easier. He doesn't see any point to gifts with purely aesthetic value like flowers or gemstones.

H: Hugs (Do they hug their s/o? How often?)

He tolerates being hugged by you, and you alone. Anyone else who tries would be lucky to leave with both their arms intact, but you're special to him so you get to hug him. That doesn't guarantee that he'll hug you back, though.

I: Intimacy (How romantic are they? Do they have problems with intimacy?)

He's not romantic in the traditional sense. The closest he'll get to that is when he kisses you. His kisses aren't loving, exactly, but they are deep, and passionate.

J: Jealous (Do they get jealous? How do they act when jealous?)

Don't try to make Hyoga jealous if you want the other person/people involved to leave alive. He's very possessive and doesn't take kindly in the least bit to the idea of someone trying to take you from him. He might also remind you of who you belong to in a more, intimate manner later on, but this is an SFW chapter we can't go into that here.

K: Kiss (Are they a good kisser? Do they like to kiss? How often do they try to kiss you?)

His kisses are rare, but surprisingly passionate when they do happen. I think his petrification scars would also add a unique twist, they'd definitely affect the way his lips feel against yours.

L: Love (When do they say they love you? How often do they say it? Do they prefer to say it or show it?)

He never says "I love you" out loud. And I don't mean rarely, I mean never. He does show it in his own way, though you kind of have to read between the lines- any time he acts jealous or protective of you, or when he lets you hug him, or even the way he just wants to be near you sometimes- in his head, those little things do more to tell you how he feels than any words ever could.

M: Marriage (Do they want to get married? If so, what kind of ceremony?)

He's not opposed to marriage, but you'll have to be the one to bring it up. He's not really interested in a ceremony or reception though, he'd far prefer whatever the stone world equivalent of a courthouse wedding would be. Either that, or he'll just start calling you his spouse. I mean, who's going to argue with him?

O: Out of the Ordinary (What’s something they don’t normally do for/with their s/o?)

If you can't tell by now, he's not too keen on acting overly affectionate, or doing anything that would make him seem soft or vulnerable, especially in front of other people. He shows his love for you in his own ways that don't involve any of those things, and he just needs you to accept that.

P: Playful (Are they playful in a relationship? If so, how do they play around/mess with their s/o?)

Hyoga will joke around with you some, but his sense of humor is dark enough that you may or may not always recognize them as jokes. If your sense of humor is dark enough to match his, though, oh boy, he will be happy to joke with you more than anyone else even thought he was capable of.

Q: Questions (Do they ask their s/o their opinion on things? Do they share theirs?)

If it's relevant to some field of expertise of yours, sure, he'll ask your opinion on something. Otherwise you'll need to speak for yourself without him prompting you. I can't say he'll always take your thoughts into consideration, but he will appreciate you being willing to stand up for yourself.

R: Random (How spontaneous is their relationship? Do they do things on the spot or plan ahead?)

He actually plans pretty far ahead for most things- he wants to do everything properly, after all, he needs time to prepare. Not that you'd know that. He doesn't tell you about his plans ahead of time so it ends up feeling very spontaneous.

S: Sleep (How do they sleep with their s/o?)

It takes him a while to be comfortable sleeping next to you, though not as long as you might expect (he's pretty confident that even if you did try to attack him in his sleep or something, he'd wake up in time to stop you doing any lasting harm). Once he is, though, he'll sometimes put an arm around you and hold you while you both fall asleep. He also thinks it's cute if you lay your head on his chest like you're using him as a pillow.

T: Trust (How much do they trust their s/o?)

His trust is as hard to gain as it is easy to lose. He's going to need to be really convinced that you don't have any ulterior motives or conflicting loyalties before he can really put his trust in you, and he's definitely still got a plan for if you ever do decide to betray him.

U: Unique (What makes them unique as a s/o?)

His possessiveness towards you and willingness to use violence against other people (but not you- he'll never hurt you) is a rather unique combo. One that could potentially lead to people getting hurt, but certainly a Unique combo.

V: Vulnerable (How long until they can be vulnerable around their s/o? What are they like in this state?)

Hyoga? Vulnerable? Yeah that's gonna be a hard no. You'll see him vulnerable when he's dead.

W: Wild Card (Random domestic headcanon)

He's very protective of you, and hates the idea of you getting hurt. But for that very reason, if you don't already have any combat skills, he's going to want to teach you to fight at some point. He doesn't want you to throw yourself into fights you don't need to, but he knows he can't always be around to protect you so he wants you to be able to defend yourself.

X: X-Ray (What would they do if their s/o got injured?)

If you were injured by another person, that person would have to die immediately. He would take care of you while you recovered, too, and it would really shine through how much he cares about you while he does; for all he tries to play it cool, it's easy to tell he cannot stand the thought of losing you.

Y: Yuck (Do they have any pet peeves about their s/o? Are there any habits that might bother their s/o?)

Hyoga likes for things to be done properly. So, if you're sloppy or unhygienic he will be very annoyed. You might get annoyed with him if you're particularly opposed to violence or something like that.

Z: Zeal (Are they passionate as a s/o? Do they want or like passion?)

He often outwardly acts cold in his relationships, but he has a lot more passion for you than he shows. If he's openly accepted you as his romantic partner, then chances are his feelings run deep- deeper than he'd like to admit. He might not always show it, but he'd do just about anything to keep from losing you. I think that counts as passion.

#dcst #dr stone #dr stone x reader #dr stone headcanons #dr stone hyoga #dcst hyoga #hyoga x reader

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flagbridge · 5 months

Text

PoTOmer 2024/5784 Masterpost

From April 23 -June 11, I am posting 49 days of POTO content to mark the Omer, except on Shabbat.

Follow POTOMER for the posts.

(Gif of @lilykerhoas is from @or-what-you-will and @hyperfixatra January 2024 (2) video)

Day 49: PHANART-Phantom Returns to Broadway (as a Lego)

Day 48: PHANFIC-No Vows, POTO Queer Week 2024

Day 47: PHANART-Journey to the Lair made with Legos

Day 46: (No Post, Shabbat)

Day 45: PHANFIC-Mes Amicales Pensees (Young R/C)

Day 44: GIFSET-West End '23-'24 Phantoms having a mental breakdown during AIAOY.

Day 43: PHANFIC-Phantom of the Capitol Crack AU Idea

Day 42: GIFSET- Jon Robyns & Lily Kerhoas, West End 2024

Day 41: PHANFIC-Sangfroid, a Raoul Navy POTO Dark Week Fic

Day 40: AUDIO-Connor Ewing Phantom Debut Full Audio Gift

DAY 39 (no post, Shabbat)

Day 38: GIFSET-Jon Robyns unique acting choice

Day 37: PHANART: POTO Lego Figurines (Again)

Day 36: GIFSET-NEW BOOT (Jon/Lily/Mikey)

Day 35: GIFSET-MOTN Goodness (Jon/Lily)

Day 34: GIFSET-The Boatride

Day 33: (Lag B’Omer Special): PHANFIC All Vows FINALE

Day 32: (No post, Shabbat)

Day 31: PHANFIC- All Vows Finale Teaser

Day 30: LIVE SHOW-POTO Vienna Goes Wrong

Day 29: COSPLAY-Meg Giry

Day 28: PHANART-POTO Lego Figurines!

Day 27: HEADCANON-My Raoul is a Composite Character

Day 26: PHANART-Erik x Mirrorbride

Day 25: (no post, Shabbat)

Day 24: GIFSET-Random POTO Broadway Phantom Gifs

Day 23: PHOTOSET/HEADCANON-La Sorelli in ALW

Day 22: VIDEO-Moisten the Lad

Day 21: PHOTOSET- POTO Uganda

Day 20: PHANART: Erik and his Violin

Day 19: FANFIC - All Vows Chapter 39

Day 18: (no post, Shabbat)

Day 17: PHANART- Various crack posts and inside jokes illustrated by @bonzlydoo

Day 16: PHOTOSET-Joe-Griffiths Brown feeding the people what they want as Raoul

Day 15: HEADCANON/Raoul Navy Uniform Musings

Day 14: GIFSET-Ethan Freeman bows to the monkey.

DAY 13: LEROUX: HAPPY BIRTHDAY GASTON LEROUX (Ethan Freeman Reads Leroux)

Day 12: FANFIC: All Vows Chapter 38: my longfic that will be concluding at the end of May.

Day 11: (no post, Shabbat)

Day 10: FANFIC: All Vows Chapter 10 (Catch Up)

Day 9: ADAPTATION: Ghost of Zariya Hollow

Day 8: HEADCANON: Christine's Swedish Accent

Day 7: COSPLAY Hannibal Slave Girl Bodice Construction

Day 6: GIFSET: Raouls who make choices appreciation post

Day 5: PHIC UPDATE: All Vows Chapter 37! (And a bonus gif of Lily and Jon)

Day 4: (No post, Shabbat)

Day 3: GIFSET: Cape Twirl Comparison, Current West End Phantoms ('23-'24)

Day 2: BRAINWORM: "Ne Me Touchez Pas"

Day 1: GIFSET Robyns/Kerhoas: The Kiss

#POTOMER #jon robyns #lily kerhoas #gifset #phantom of the opera #poto

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darkdemeter · 9 days

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Hi idk if I sent this request your way,if so feel feee to ignore it.

But could you write a death x reader but the reader is an oldest sibling too? Maybe their (3) younger siblings are in Haven with the makers while their big sibling travels with death for supplies.

I was thinking that the reader could be a foil to death,they have an excelent relationshipp with their siblings, their younger siblings always try to act all tough when Deaths around to "make sure he doesnt hurt their big sibling"(its harmless though).

And ive always hc Strife being the second oldest,and its clear him and death "hate" eachother(or at least dont get along). So maybe the reader has more affinity with the sibling that follows them in the birth order.

Maybe during their travels the reader swaps "sibling advice" with Death(more Like they talk and he listens. I dont think he'd Open up much about his relationship with his siblings). I think the reader would be like "talk to them like adults,dont underestimate them,sometimes you gotta accept they need to get hurt to learn a lesson" that kind of stuff.

And I think the reader would also share how it kind of felt like their childhood was taken away from them and replaced with the duty to take care of their siblings (and that they would still accept taking care of them,they just wished they had more time to experience their childhood). just sharing those kinds of stories to Bond with Death.

Maybe after the supply run they return and Death watches from afar as the reader and their siblings are just chaotic forces of nature and play around and give the makers a stress ulcer lmao. Maybe he gets a little sentimental and hey maybe he puts the reader's advice to the test (with strife or with any of his siblings really)

Also,one more bit of info: Death has confirmed hes the eldest but thats about it, And the reader's siblings are all close in age to the reader,just a 4-5 year gap. (I imagine the reader being in their 20s)

(Pd: I wanted to request this since its heavily based some Real life experiences of mine as an older sibling! And the idea has been going around in my head like a DVD screensaver.)

As always take your time! Your writing's amazing!!!! Have a nice day!!!

THE BONDS BETWEEN KIN

◤✘DARKSIDERS REQUESTS | CATALOGUE Death x GN Reader

NOTES ↳ Firstly, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JER!! Wishing you the best day and I hope this makes for a well waited gift! 🎉 I agree so much with the hc that Strife is the second oldest (or that he and Fury have this sort of opposite twin energy?) Writing this was actually a unique go because *LORE DROP! Demeter here, I am the youngest of my siblings. WARNINGS❕ ↳ a mixed concoction of fluff and angst — some profanity — Death is a bit grumpy at the start — we got a wholesome ending! — I think that’s it?

✎ 4.9k ────────────────────────

Everything moves together in sync with each other. Hammers and mallets pound posts and pieces into place, platforms rise and lower at the controlled helm of a steady rope. Crafts are honed and day by day a further stretch of home is made. Humans engage and tidy and work, doing what they must and can for each other; for survival. And that’s what you must do with the pale rider.

He stands idle by Haven’s entrance like an outcast, back set against the old and creaking oak that overlooks a jungle of branching pathways. To those around Haven, he is walking trouble; he is Death after all. So when nobody goes out of their way to greet him or offer him a piece of hospitality, he returns the favour by not batting an eye their way. Most of them keep away. Most of them shrink away in fear of him.

Most…

The flicker of burning amber slims finely into a narrowed glare as he watches you from that darkened corner of Haven. His hands tense against the cold skin of his arms that are squarely crossed over his chest, huffing and tsking his tongue to himself as he waits for you.

Things haven’t been the same for any of you since the apocalypse, so you do what you must for what remains of your family, keeping them safe and well supplied. You can’t bear to see them go hungry or cold, you can never settle with the heartbreaking thought of them going without a place to lay down their heads out of risk of being compromised. You never could, now that you think of it.

They understand why you must go, you’re one of the stronger and healthier humans who can hold themselves well enough in a fight or two. It still didn’t make the going away part any easier. Not since your parents died.

“Alright, I’m off.” Your announcement only bears furrowed brows and sunken frowns. They fear that this time you won’t come back.

“Do you really have to go?” Your youngest sibling cannot hide the slight tremble in their voice. Despite their old enough age to know how this new world works around them, therein lies the terrible and voided feeling of abandonment.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

You know Death has this habit of watching you, you feel it even now, the way his piercing eyes bear a weight that almost forces your body to be pushed forward. You notice it too whenever you’re with your siblings, silent and watchful of how you play and mess around, how you coddle them like newborns whenever they’re in fear and how attentive you are to their wounds, troubles and failings. Not so much like him. With his siblings, he is coarse and ruthless, very rarely shedding that toughened exterior to be kinder. It’s how he was raised to be. And so, it’s only natural for him to continue to be that way.

In comparison, you hold your ground when scolding your siblings when they do something wrong or dangerous, but nevertheless you temper your strict lectures with a level of care and love. You tell them to not go outside after dark because it’s dangerous and you don’t want them getting hurt. You correct them if their sense of play converts into discord. You don’t spit venomous judgment and tell them how it must be done, you guide and show them how it can be done. You’re a mender of broken things, a leader to lost and hopelessly wandering ones.

You keep balance within the confines of your family, and Death keeps balance on the outskirts. Out of reach from you. Sometimes he feels like he envies the way you and your siblings get along. But that’s not right, it’s not envy. He can’t explain it, not even to himself. It’s just this insecure feeling that he’s done everything wrong by his brothers, that their so-called brotherhood is naught by an empty shell of petty lies, spite and disagreeable alliance.

And Strife… he scoffs to himself at the mere thought and pictured recollection of that sibling. He thought Fury’s relationship with him and their brothers was a demon stirred nest. His estranged kinship with Strife was an entire beast all its own. The two of them always butt heads, caught in a state of arguing with no hope of a middle ground, even when there are options. The two can never seem to be on the same page.

It’s one of the many sad reasons he admits is why he seeks solitude rather than the companionship of his kin; the very and actual last of his kind.

Sighing, he pushes himself off the tree’s wall and stares sharply in your direction. There you are, still attending your younger ones with gracious and overbearing care. You spoil them with lavish affection, grabbing each one and embracing them tightly and peppering them with a treasure trove of kisses that they can miss you by.

The youngest is given a tad more than the others. The baby of your little clan, much like War is of his own.

Death stalks over with a harrowing crunch under each step, it’s noticeable like a literal announcement that the reaper has come for your soul. An ice cold chill runs down your spine and pricks along your skin with goosebumps.

Each of your siblings are torn from that tight and warm embrace you supply them with, a halo that hovers over them all protectively, and they each visibly tense up. If he didn’t find your stern eyes in that moment, he would have questioned why they all puffed up like a murder of fat crows. But he bites his tongue, he bites down the passionate stir of sarcastic aggression.

“Are you finished?” he questions instead. His tone has a harsher bite to it then he cared to let on.

“Yeah, just… give me a second.” It’s a second more you ask for. Surely the reaper can spare you that. He rolls his eyes, a fiery haze lacking direct and knowing pupils that flow about in the carved out sockets of his mask like wild fireflies.

Knowingly, you direct your gaze to your siblings. You see through their toughened charade easily because you know them — each of them an open chapter within a book. They mean to hide their worries and carry on as if your going away doesn’t leave them haunting around Haven as ghosts that float anxiously until you inevitably return. As if something to prove to Death, they hold their heads a little higher and furrow their brows a bit harder with determination.

“We’ll get to work on those tasks for you,” says your middle sibling, the youngest nodding in agreement. You huff quietly to yourself. “Alright. Take care of them now. Stay out of trouble and be sure to help out the Makers when they need it. I mean it.”

The rise of your brows makes it fundamentally clear that you will not hear another tale of your siblings running amuck rather than helping the Makers.

“I’ll keep them in check for you,” assures your second oldest sibling.

Your nearance in age makes it easy for you both to converse often and come together for the better. That’s what Death has come to understand. You pat their shoulder with a smile, proudly fond of their commitment to ensure things run smoothly in your absence.

You turn to Death, daring to meet the soul-shuddering cold of his gaze and gruffly, he saunters off with you not far behind. A chorus of voices familiar call after you in bidding you goodbyes and reminders to stay safe.

Out of all the survivors in your little enclave, you’re really the only one that embraces Death’s skulking presence, his quiet and brooding nature that leaves him on the looming outskirts as he remains watchful and vigilant. His trips are usually short and few in between his other priorities, to what accomplishments you have little idea, but your company is at least familiar to him. Still, you can be subjected to the brutality of his cold shoulder.

“So what has your scythes in a twist this time?” you ask, your eyes highly observant of your surroundings. He only grumbles in response. The voided silence is only occasionally disturbed by a drawled caw that circles from above, Dust languidly surfing through the air.

“I’d wage a penny for your thoughts, but you don’t strike me as the gambling type.” He’s scouring some corner of the area, sifting through a bundle of half splintered and damaged crates in search of supplies.

Years ago, this exact spot was a graveyard of a small and docile park, smothered ankle-deep in ash and decay. Now, the trickling resurgence of growth sprouts freshly, the sunlight dances in soft haloing rays through the crackling rubble. Flowers are beginning to bloom. Much like Humanity in a way, the world itself is slowly finding its footing again in this changed world.

You wander over to him after dragging a sorted amount of supplies that you already found. The sun would be setting soon and it was best to remain close in numbers.

“C’mon,” you chide with a wistful breath of air and you join him at his side. “I know that burdened look when I see it. Out with it, Horseman.”

“It’s nothing that concerns you.” Your lips purse sharply, brow slightly raised higher than the other, a pure visage of ‘Oh really’ on your face.

He continues to ignore the idea of looking at you and instead focuses his search on the crates before him. A Horseman reduced to a lower task, he’s almost brought into the far past of his youthful days, a time where he saw worlds conquered and thousands slaughtered.

However, he only had himself to blame for offering to go with you, noting how despite your skills, you wouldn’t last out here by yourself. Not without him.

Shaking his head with a short tut jabbing in his throat that pulls tight on his vocal cords, he catches movement out of the corner of his eyes. You walk forward until you situate yourself against a fallen structure, half sitting on it and cross your arms. It’s not too long after that Death’s feathery companion lands beside you with a throaty warble, bristling his feathers into a puff.

He cranes his neck and the flaming core of his stare meets yours, intentionally ignoring the lazy bird that chirps a velvety purr while you absently pet a finger along his back. He sees that same look you give your siblings when you’ve caught them in a lie.

The amount of times he’s given Strife that same pressing look and still, he never yields any similar results that you do.

Death sighs to the wind that carries it up in the air to be discarded and forgotten much like his many attempts to reconcile and temper his brothers. Every turn had been for nothing in the end.

“Your siblings giving you trouble, Death?”

You sound sincere and it almost visibly shakes him. So genuine in your knowing, in your concerned question. His chin falls with a steep incline that you read as an affirmative nod. Yes, you know just which brother in particular that Death’s mind is tormented by, leaving him bitter and lonesome.

“My younger siblings do things that drive me crazy at times. There’s times where we fight, there are days where it’s hard to juggle the roles. I want to give them a promising world yet I have to also be realistic. I always let them know that my intentions for them are sincere. That I want what is best and most safe for them.”

Death is silent. He can hear the inaudible but…

“But… there are times where I have to stand on the sidelines and let them do their thing. I have to watch them fall so I know they can get back up on their own feet. Because when I’m not around, I want to know they’re going to be okay without me.”

“And yet you coddle them to no end,” he remarks. You hear the rasped judgment in his tone and you chuckle to suppress the thin layer of tears coating your eyes.

“I do,” you admit with a nod, “I do, yes. What I’m trying to say is that it’s not easy being the oldest, okay? I know what it’s like. All the responsibility shoved on the shoulders, made to be the lookout, the judge, jury and executioner. To be gentle yet stern and understand when and what was necessary.”

Death stands to his full height after he moves a few crates aside, possibly littered with some supplies you can take back to Haven.

“I have noticed… you treat them more like soldiers than anything. Especially Strife.”

“I do not—”

Your lashes beat fast at the sudden defense he fronts and he catches himself, eyes thinning into a glare. Either way, you know you have him there. And he knows it too. He joins you, leaning against the structure while crossing his arms and undoubtedly scowling under his mask.

“You try to hold them back from their capabilities and mold them into compliance. More than anything after everything that’s happened, they need a brother. I think you’ll find that if you talk to them, really talk to them, that you can find common ground. A stable union.”

He turns his head in your direction but doesn’t exactly meet you. His raven locks fall over the white contrast of a bone and placid visage, the dimming orange of sun emits a glowing aura around him and the wind gently breathes through his hair.

He almost looks thoughtful, heavily seated in an internal channel that studies your words like ancient scriptures.

Perhaps humans did have a shred of intellect. His shoulders jump as a low and gravelly note comes from his throat, it sounds almost like a dry chuckle. It still brings a hopeful smile to your face that he’s found something useful in your advice.

“How exactly did it all fall on you to look after them?”

It’s a loaded gun more than a question, so heavy with a leaded tale of many days that seemed uncertain and scary. Your body slumps forward a little, lips pulled in to sink your teeth into them. “My parents weren’t around a whole lot, they were kept busy working longer hours each week to bring in enough money. My dad’s job had him travelling a lot anyway and…” You pause, rolling your tongue over your teeth.

“Meanwhile, I was left to look after my siblings. I was the one who made them dinner, got them washed and ready for bed and checked if they brushed their teeth. Some nights the power went out and I’d have the flashlight pointed at the ceiling to make shadow puppets. Kept them from getting scared of the dark.”

You swallow thickly. “I did… everything I could for my little bear cubs. I’d get into the shittiest of scraps with kids who shoved them around. I’d sneak out of school during lunch period to make sure they were doing alright in their yard.”

It’s a flurry of memories that come back to you. A series of events cataloged into your mind, to remember the good and the bad, how much worse things could have been, but also something else.

“Do you blame your parents for it?”

Immediately you shake your head. Out of necessity or because you truly don’t blame them. “No. I love those kids with everything I have. However… I paid the price by giving up my own childhood for it. Instead of typical teenage sneak outs or going out on dates, I stayed home on the couch helping the kids with their homework or heating up enough popcorn so we could all huddle up together and watch a movie. I taught myself how to ride a bike so then I could teach them how. I was never really taught by my parents when they were around. They would just vaguely explain it to me, then go about their own thing.”

Instead of a soul shredded and marred into something heinously bitter, you stiffened your upper lip and rolled with the punches. In the forced haste of time that hurried you to grow up, you saddled up with the responsibilities that were your parents, not yours.

The bottom lids of his eyes flinch, a minute action but heavily betraying his thoughts as you both stare at one another.

He’s almost… bothered by your story. As though he finds it unfair.

You shrug with your brows rolling with a lax coil as you shove off that small grief. “But it is what it is. I didn’t get the chance to experience what my childhood could have been. It would have been nice, I would have liked to enjoy it while I had it, but I’d trade it all a hundred times over if it meant they grew up knowing they were loved and appreciated, that everything they did was acknowledged.”

You have to take a break before the bubbling writhe of tears come undone. Clearing your throat, your fingers pluck the frayed rips in your pants, annoyed at the little imperfections that those rips represent. But then you smile. You remember those fights started on the sidewalk as a bully gave your youngest the roughest shoulder they could muster. You’d knock noses, bust lips and pack bruises if it all meant that your siblings knew you always had their backs.

Sighing shakily, calmed, you continue, “That’s what being human — and older sibling — is about. You’d give anything for them, to see them safe, see them smile and to see the world at their fingertips.”

“You’ve raised them well. I cannot see any other doing the task better than you have.” Your brows bevel in the center, a smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “Thanks, Death.”

He can take your response any way he likes, but you’re glad that you had someone to unload the burden to. Someone who can in some way relate. You and Death have much in difference but you see many other alignments that match up. Almost two sides of the same coin that flips round and round in constant motion. A never ending cycle, a duty never entirely complete.

With a glance towards the setting sun, you push yourself up on your two feet, disturbing Dust’s placement that sends him flying to the winds, and you begin to sift through Death’s collected supplies. “Just talk to him like a brother, Death. Because in the end all you have is each other. And when shit hits the fan, you need them on the sidelines of the ring.”

Death hums, a steep sound that reverberates in his chest and rumbles in his throat. He straightens his posture and his eyes follow you closely, watching you with the keen intent of a hawk. And he nods. Not the sort of evasive or dismissive bob of his head, but an actual bow of his chin that then rose up. Your lips grow wide into a grin.

“Now, shall we get this stuff back to Haven?”

Your name is shouted in burstful happiness, relief trailed in whimpers as your youngest sibling runs to you. The other two keep their pace cool as they approach, aware of the pale rider’s presence next to you while you both unload the cargo of supplies.

Placing down a crate, you replace its company with that of your eager little bear that engulfs you boldly that it knocks the wind from you a little. You huff out a short laugh. “Hey, I wasn’t that long. I promised I’d be back.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay.”

“See that you’re both in one piece,” remarks your middle sibling, earning a soft jabbing elbow to their rib by the other.

“Yes, we’re both alright.” You glance to Death then. “Thanks for helping me out with the supply run. Should do it again sometime.”

Death had found the actual events of going through supplies mundane, funnily enough he thought he would die from how boring it was. No, it was the nature of your little talk that kept his mind occupied.

“Try not to run out of supplies so soon,” he retorts dryly and you chuckle. “We’ll try but more humans are being found by the day. Maybe we’ll need some extra hands onboard soon enough?”

Death’s lips curl into a slight sneer to what you allude to behind the mere suggestion. His eyes roll far around in his skull and he shoves his shoulders down, releasing the tension from them as he moves swiftly to spin on his heel.

“Be seeing you around, Horseman,” you coo over your shoulder, your attention becoming a stolen relic by your thieving siblings.

He stands at Haven’s inviting gateway and stops in his retreating advance. Something compels him to linger in the shadows of the tree’s abode, a place he finds so hostile and uninviting to his very existence, but among it all there’s you. You always offer a greeting nod of your head, a direct line of contact with his eyes as you acknowledge him. Your eyes don’t shakily follow him like he’s a phantom to be watched and feared, you embrace the gloom and grim of his company.

You won’t admit it anytime soon, but you always have this sense of anticipation. And when he’s not around, you find yourself missing him.

Death hides in the now blackened corner where he stood earlier that day, his eyes flaring and dimming depending on his concentrated intrigue as he watches you. You and your siblings organise your collected haul into piles.

“What’s this? What’s this thing do?”

“You know what that is, you cheeky little thing,” you chuckle as your little siblings begin their cycle of mischief.

“Huh, look at this. It looks just like you.” You gasp at the second oldest, mouth agape that cannot portray anything but that insulted fun. “Oh really?” You quip before you both engage in a small scuffle.

You become entangled in playful headlocks and knocking the other back with reserved and non-lethal blows.

Before Death’s eyes, all four of you are causing the type of trouble you had warned them about before you left. Between the mockery of fights, you hold them tight to you and ruffle their hair affectionately. When Ulthane marches over, his eyes bearing the fearsome darkness of a scolding glare, he begins to bark and roar with fuming irate. Your siblings had gotten up to no good, and what you once warned them about, you now indulged in their mischievous plots.

A small stone Ulthane kept in the back and higher stacked crates to indeed keep mischievous and curious humans out of reach from, was now the prized toy of a game of Maker-in-the-middle. Instead of throwing high given his advantage there, you duck low and keep your throws to the sides.

Laughter fills the air around you as you play around, getting a little too rambunctious but otherwise it's all an exchange of kinship, a bond strengthened over the years. Death wonders if you allow yourself these luxuries now to make up for your lost childhood, and maybe you did, but it lights a feeling in his chest that it almost swells with an unknown fire.

By the time he finally moves to take his leave, he lets out a slip of a chuckle, gentle and tenderly adoring. Out of all the humans, Death holds a more softer regard for you.

Strife doesn’t bother in entertaining his older brother’s arrival, his gaze set on the distant view of Haven from this afar camp that he refers to as The Exiled Point. A fitting title he named in spite of Death and their recent confrontation with each other.

He doesn’t pay any mind to the thunderous fall of steady footfall moving towards him. Strife is far too engrossed at his post, keeping watch here, no longer hindered by the need to wear the robes of his disguise in order to fit in around the humans. The closest he ever felt to belonging somewhere.

“Strife.” The gunslinging Nephilim only scoffs with a venomous whistle flowing against his masked tongue.

“You gonna tell me to pack up and leave again?”

The kinship is strained between them. Ever since that distasteful argument, the two have grown further apart, barely sparing the other so much as a shouldering glance. No hint of remorse, no intent to mend their breaking brotherhood.

“That’s not why I came up here.”

“Then what is your business here, Brother?”

Death’s head falls slowly forward and his shoulders sag down. He tries to think about how you’d react, what you would do in this situation. What would you do?

“I… wanted to see you.”

Strife cocks his head to the side, body jostling with a sharp and jagged laugh that hints at his still writhing anger. “Well, you’ve seen me! So you should be on your way. I dunno, go and see the humans, go out and protect the balance. After all, what help could I be? I’ll just be a danger to everything.”

Death raises his foot to rest it atop the cut down stump beside Strife, the moonlit winds bellowing the flowing scarves and waisted tabards of the brothers’ armour. Both set their sights to the faint glow of Haven’s lights. A soft beacon in the foggy distance.

“What I said to you was unfair.”

Strife clicks his tongue that runs over the sharpened tips of his fangs. “Still doesn’t change what you said. You don’t get it, man. When I was down there with the humans, I felt—”

Strife feels his heart rap hard against his chest. Within the blaring glow of flittering gold, tears shimmer. He wanted to yell, he wanted to cuss and roar at Death to mount up and ride away, to never come near him again. He wanted what he had seen the humans have with his own brothers; but he couldn’t.

Death shakes his head, voice sullen. “At the time, I thought I was doing what was necessary. What was safe for the humans. But I see now that I didn’t make the right choice. I treat you like a soldier, I talk to you with scorn and hatred because it’s all I’ve known. But first and foremost, you are my brother, Strife.”

With a loud, bellowing sigh that forcibly drags Strife forward to slump in his posture as he sits on a perched rock, he takes a moment to reflect. It hadn’t been fair at all that day with that fight.

They were both ready to kill each other if the Makers, War and Fury hadn’t intervened. If you hadn’t stepped in to keep the brothers from ripping each other apart. You didn’t agree with Death’s decision then, after all, you had gotten on well with Jones. With Strife.

But Death was the eldest, the leader of the fabled Horsemen. Who was Strife, the second eldest, to fight and argue? Who was he to disobey an order?

��I’m sorry, Strife.”

It sends a volting freeze through Strife’s entire being, his muscles tense and his unresting spirit freezes. It feels like his heart has stopped beating.

Not once has Death ever been sorry. The only time he ever expressed a shred of guilt and remorse was for their fallen brethren, for Absalom…

Strife finally shifts to look to his side, meeting Death’s eyes. A steadfast silence passes between them that slowly begins to mend the wounds of their drifting apart. His golden eyes dart and waver behind the visor, his lips tugged and twisted into confused sneers and parted, forgotten sentences.

“I cannot take back what I’ve said. I cannot promise to coddle you like a newborn, but I wish for our brotherhood to become stronger. I want the bond between us to become so powerful that it will take more than a mere disagreement to tear us apart. You — and War and Fury — are my kin. Because in the end you three are all I have.”

Both are settled into silence again, listening to the low howl of the wind’s carrying gusto. Their sights retrain their focus on Haven, as if the kindle in which they both knew that was you, brought them together. A far off thank you that you won’t know of until you see them again.

A small, genuine and high-spirited laughter burns in Strife’s chest, soon joined by Death.

“So am I still in exile?”

Death curls his fingers into a tight fist and much like he’d seen between you and your siblings, he punches into Strife’s shoulder. “You never were. You always had a place to belong with us.”

As time goes by in a passing of shaded midnight, moon gliding slowly through the sky, two brothers that watch over Haven become three and then four with Dust finally perching himself comfortably on Death’s shoulder. Each of them embrace the cool winds at their backs, basking in the quiet contentment of their renewed bonds. And all because one human had the answer all along that finally united the four Horsemen not as soldiers, but as a true brotherhood.

#STRIFE SEPTEMBER #headlinesxcomics publishing #happyfic hour #gn reader #darksiders fanfiction #darksiders #darksiders x reader #darksiders death x reader #darksiders 2 #darksiders death

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mahekmarcon · 1 year

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sunenjoyswriting · 9 months

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A very twisted Christmas.

Writers note: “I’m not gonna reupload my AO3 fics here”, I say, before reuploading an AO3 fic here. Anyways more Yuune yippee!! This is one of my longer fics (it’s not even 1k words…)

Possible warnings: Angst for two lines. I think that’s it…?

It was Yuune's first Christmas. He didn't have high expectations for it, nor were his expectations low... They didn't have any expectations. They didn't know what's it be like, [[PLAYER]] never once has mentioned it and the rest of the main cast hasn't either.

But it was definitely a unique experience.

Just like the usual routine, the first thing [[PLAYER]] did after waking up was turn on their phone and open up Twisted Wonderland. They had gotten used to the weird occurrences that happened (which were just Yuune changing the code for fun and giving [[PLAYER]] messages), but was pleasantly surprised at the immediate change that definitely hasn't intended by Disney...

A, slightly glitchy, textbox was the first thing to pop up on screen. It simply said;

"Happy holidays from Yuune~ I wonder what presents ill get! Hm... If you get a new phone, I think this game should be the first thing you get on it!!"

Then the usual thingy happened, and [[PLAYER]] took no note of the text box. They had gotten greeted by this "Yuune" quite the few times by now. They were usually on holidays, examples include:

"Happy halloween, I'm dressing up as one of the ghosts in ramshackle~! Trick or treat~ Gimme candy! Now!!" On halloween ([[PLAYER]] put a piece of candy next to their phone later that day after trick or treating to "give" it to Yuune), and "Happy birthday, [[PLAYER]]!! I wonder if the day you installed twisted wonderland is my birthday or if we share one..." On their birthday ([[PLAYER]] made note of the question Yuune had asked, sometimes wondering that themselves...)

This greeting wasn't particularly special in any way (except for the lack of a specific holiday, but that really didn't make a big difference), so [[PLAYER]] just ignored it.

So, [[PLAYER]] just did their usual grinding (with, surprisingly, no interruption from Yuune.), and left the game a little quicker then usual, to go and celebrate Christmas!

With Yuune... Well, I have genuinely no idea how they celebrate Christmas in Twisted Wonderland. So unfortunately, you just have to assume it went like in the game (with more added mischief from Yuune!)

Presents Yuune got include:

A tablet from Idia (oh god Yuune is gonna turn into an iPad kid/j), A crocheted bat from Lilia (I believe Lilia crochets and I will stand by this), A full size gargoyle from Malleus (that was a pain to get into Ramshackle...), and more that I don't feel like adding because its not important.

Honestly, after the whole celebration was over... Most of the rest of the day was spent in ignihyde, just like most days for him... It wasnt too bad, though! The tablet was pretty nice to play with, and since it was so high tech... It could do practically anything!! It was a pretty nice day for Yuune.

Only at the end of the day when Yuune was about to (attempt to) sleep, did [[PLAYER]] return to Twisted Wonderland.

And the first thing Yuune noticed was that their room definitely had... More items! A lot more items...!!

Most notably, A new phone. With the TWST transfer data screen on it... Looks like Yuune managed to predict what one of their gifts would be.

"I wonder if the glitches will be transferred to my new phone..." [[PLAYER]] muttered to themselves, quickly pulling up the screen with the TWST transfer stuff on their old phone.

Yuune's mood made a complete switch at that comment... Will he also be transferred, or... Will he be stuck without [[PLAYER]]...?

Well, only one way to find out!

[[PLAYER]] quickly transferred the data to their new phone, reloading the game to quickly start up playing Twisted Wonderland again.

And, it seems the "glitches" also got transferred, because the first thing to pop up was a glitchy textbox.

"Woah... The screen is so much bigger! I can see you in higher quality, as well!!" Was what text the textbox had, clearly from Yuune.

~The End~

and a very twisted holidays to you~

#tell me if you can notice the one change I made!!#writing blog #TWST #twisted wonderland #TWST reverse self-aware AU #reverse self aware au

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impala-dreamer · 1 year

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A Wish Come True

A Doctor Who Story

~Rose wakes up to a very unique and lovely surprise...~

The Doctor x Rose Tyler

1,198 Words

Warnings: Fluff!

A/N: My first ever DW fic. A birthday gift for the one and only @mariekoukie6661. Only for you, my dear. <33

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist ~ Patreon ~ Published Works

"So… I believe this is where you, uh, make a wish..."

The Doctor swallowed hard and looked down at his blonde companion. Rose was still reeling from the surprise and a little more than sleepy.

She'd woken up to a nearly pitch black control room; the usually glowing orbs were dim, the panels seemingly switched off. The air was cool, but nowhere as cold as the icy breath of space. She shivered and rubbed her hands vigorously against the backs of her arms.

"Blimey, it's cold in here, 'innt?"

There was no answer, not even the echo of her own voice bouncing off the magically cavernous room.

"Doctor?"

She stood and felt her way to the controls, blindly searching for a switch to bring the lights up. She really had no idea where it could be, but if she pushed enough buttons, something usually happened.

"Oh, come on! Where are you?"

The flick of a lighter hit her ears and a tiny flame appeared to her left.

In the glow, she saw dark brown eyes and the long lines of a beautiful face that she'd come to know better than her own.

The Doctor lit a small yellow candle and she could make out that it was smushed into a chocolate frosted cupcake. He smiled a brilliant smile, all teeth and glee.

Surprised, Rose rubbed at her eyes and smiled in return.

"What's all this?" She asked, hoping the blush burning her cheeks was hidden in the shadows.

He beamed and held out the treat.

"Happy Birthday, Rose."

Pink lips curled into a smile that nearly took his breath away. Two hearts beat fast and she took a step closer, pursed her lips and blew out the candle. She laughed a little and he couldn’t stop staring. She was beautiful and innocent and fierce, nothing he’d ever encountered before. And best of all- she was with him no matter what.

He cleared his throat and tore his gaze from her stunning brown eyes.

"So… I believe this is where you, uh, make a wish..."

“Brushing up on Earth customs?” she teased.

The Doctor laughed gently. “I do know some things.”

With dramatic flare, Rose took a deep breath and screwed her eyes shut. She held her breath for what seemed like forever and then let it slowly out in a quiet whistle.

When she opened her eyes, he was there, handsome and intriguing. Sometimes, she almost forgot that he was something like a million years old and not even human, but it didn’t really matter to her. He was who he was, and he was perfect.

Rose reached for the cupcake and her fingers brushed lightly over his. There was a spark there, and surely they both felt it, but neither made mention. They each looked away, shy and a little embarrassed.

Rose fiddled with the paper wrapper and The Doctor tucked his hands into the pockets of his blue pinstripe slacks.

The tension was as thick as the cake frosting and Rose took a taste, licking a bit of chocolate from her thumb.

“Doctor?”

He turned back to her. “Yes?”

“Why’ve you got all the lights and heat off?”

His brow creased a little, momentarily confused.

“Oh!” Answers and mischief lit a smile across his face. “All the better to see your present,” he replied.

With a quick snap of his fingers, the T.A.R.D.I.S. doors opened and Rose looked out into the black ink of space. A trillion stars shown like faerie lights, twinkling and dancing across the sky just for her. In the distance, a planet turned, bright pinks and reds swirling through the marble.

Rose gasped at the sight and stepped up to the very edge of the doorway. She peered out and smiled in awe.

“Where are we?”

The Doctor crossed his ankles and leaned against the blue wood. He shoved his left hand back in his pocket as his right tugged at his ear.

“Rhodestria Nine on the cusp of the Belovean Galaxy.”

Rose nodded, pretending to understand where she was and just how far from home they had traveled. “And… when are we?” She lifted an eyebrow, always curious to know all the details.

He grinned.

“On Earth, it is the twenty-seventh of April, in the year 2987.”

She bit her lip, recognizing the date.

“Rose Tyler,” The Doctor said, turning to look at her head-on, “it is your one thousandth birthday on a planet one thousand light years away from your home, and in about one thousand seconds, the triple suns of the Belovean Galaxy will rise over Rhodestria Nine right about… there.” He leaned close, nearly pressing his cheek against hers, and pointed towards the right side of the planet.

She tried to follow his finger but her eyes were drawn to the faint stubble on his jaw. She took a breath and his warmth flooded her senses. He was air and fire, dirt and water all mixed together in a strangely familiar scent that always made her feel at home.

He felt her stare and looked her way, smiling as heat rushed to his cheeks. “Oh, and-” He smirked. “In the local tongue, Rhodestria means ‘Rose’. Named for the swirling colors of the atmosphere.”

Her heart swelled. “You did all this for me?”

The Doctor’s eyes flickered down from her eyes to her lips and back again. “Of course.” His voice dropped to a mere whisper. “I’d do anything for you.”

Breath caught in her throat and she closed her eyes slowly. Her body moved without thought, leaning in closer to him than she’d ever dared. He mirrored her, dipping his chin, leaning down into her.

They stopped short, narrowly missing a kiss that would change everything between them forever.

Awkward laughs floated around them.

The Doctor scratched at the back of his head and then cleared his throat. “So, what’d you wish for?”

Rose chewed her lip. “Can’t tell you. If I tell, it won’t come true.” She took another taste of the frosting, licking it slowly off her index finger. She knew his eyes were fixed upon her, but she couldn’t help the flirtatious gesture.

He leaned in and threw his arm around her shoulders.

They sighed, secret smiles hidden as they watched the triple suns rise over the planet in the distance. Sunrise bathed the rosy planet in gold and The Doctor pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“I hope you get your wish,” he whispered, “whatever it is.”

Rose closed her eyes and let her head fall back against his shoulder. If she listened hard, she could hear two hearts beating steadily for her. Maybe a kiss was far away, maybe it would never come. Maybe he didn’t feel the same, she couldn’t know. But it didn’t matter in the end; he was incredible and fun, curious and dangerous, and she was lucky enough to get to tag along. He was everything she’d ever dreamt of and she hadn't even known.

He pulled her close, cuddling up against her.

Rose sighed and looked off into the warm glow, content and in love.

“I think I already have…”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

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#doctor who fanfiction #the doctor x rose #ten x rose #fluff

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satansapostle6 · 3 months

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Lovers and Liars | Draco Malfoy

Draco Malfoy and Theodore Nott, both determined and resourceful from reputable houses, find themselves at odds in the name of love.

Warning: Mature themes/language. Violence. Sexual content.

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-One: Legacies

Months had gone by, and Draco and Lorelei were still tense as they watched the Second Wizarding War unfolding before their eyes. Draco knew that the time for getting ahold of the prophecy regarding the Dark Lord was coming closer and closer. Draco could hardly admit it, but he was anxious to learn how his father and the other Death Eaters would go about baiting Harry into stealing the prophecy.

Draco and Lorelei had both been uneasy after returning to Hogwarts for their second semester. But still, the two of them had found ways to maintain their sanity even as chaos between Hogwarts and Dolores Umbridge ensued. Draco, much to Lorelei’s disdain, had joined Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad, which took away from much of his time with Lorelei. Draco felt that that was the only downside to being in Umbridge’s good graces.

So, the time that Lorelei and Draco did get to spend together was treated as even more eventful than before. For the first time in weeks, Lorelei was finally able to plan a real date with her boyfriend, one that didn’t take place in the classroom, or in the Great Hall for breakfast, lunch, or dinner. Lorelei had been able to secure the Astronomy tower for their date that night, having paid Crabbe five Galleons to stand watch so that no one dared interrupt them, including Filch or Umbridge.

That night, Draco was all hers. Lorelei was determined to give her boyfriend the best birthday he could ever ask for; another night under the stars with the girl whose skin shone as bright and gentle as moonlight.

“June fifth,” Draco Malfoy smiled, holding a glass of elf-made wine Lorelei had enlisted Goyle to swipe from the kitchens. “You remembered.”

“I always do,” Lorelei slowly glanced down at his soft lips, chuckling as he leaned in for a kiss.

“This really is the best birthday present I ever could’ve asked for,” Draco sighed, admiring her custom-made emerald green dress. “You are truly a vision.”

“Well, thank you for noticing,” Lorelei said with pleasure, “But this isn’t the gift.”

He raised an eyebrow curiously. “There’s more?”

“Of course there’s more,” she confirmed, reaching into the picnic basket she’d prepared. “Happy sixteenth birthday… Draco Lucius Malfoy.”

Draco looked up at her mischievously, unsure of what to expect. The year before, a few weeks after his birthday, Lorelei had gotten him Quidditch tickets so that he could attend a game with his father. Draco had no idea how, but he had a feeling that this year, she’d somehow find a way to top that gift. Ready to find out how, he took the carefully wrapped box from her.

“Thank you, my love,” he said cordially as he slowly tore through the silver wrapping paper.

Even though that was the whole point, Draco still felt almost guilty about tearing the wrapping paper, which Lorelei had obviously worked so hard at folding perfectly at the edges. The silver wrapping paper with beautiful black designs across it was elegant and delicate, just like her. Draco carefully unwrapped the box and opened it, amazed by what was inside.

It was a beautiful silver pocket watch, unique in the striking snake carved into the front of it.

“Do you know what that is?” Lorelei asked softly, as he just looked up at her for a moment before trying to place it.

It took a moment for Draco to realize why the pocket watch looked so familiar.

“Wait. I know what this is,” he said, a shocked expression on his face, “How did you even get ahold of it?”

“My mother knows a collector,” Lorelei explained.

“Well. I don’t know what collector could’ve ever come across the pocket watch of the best Quidditch player to ever live, but whoever he is, I could kiss him!” Draco exclaimed, still in shock.

“Is he really the best?” Lorelei wondered.

“I’m not having this argument again,” Draco said, staring at the watch in awe.

“Fair enough. Look inside,” she suggested.

Perfectly willing, Draco flipped open the pocket watch, noticing the small engraving on the inside. He read it with care, seeing the message written for him in the silver clear as day.

“To My Prince”

Draco looked up at her with a proud smile, unable to voice all of his feelings.

“So it can truly be yours,” Lorelei said quietly, unsure of what reaction she’d be getting.

“You are… the best thing to ever happen to me,” he declared with finality.

“Happy birthday, Draco,” she responded, chuckling at the surreal happiness she felt. “I love you.”

“I love you more than anything,” he realized.

Treasuring the perfect gift she’d gotten him, he set it aside carefully as he sat closer to her, arm around her protectively as they sat together, watching the night sky.

“Shooting star,” Lorelei observed, “Make a wish.”

Draco paused for a moment, before looking back at her.

“I made my wish,” he whispered.

“Was it for more of this?” Lorelei asked him. “Because that’s what mine was.”

Draco said nothing, smiling as he went in for a perfect kiss.

*****

“Lorelei… I may have lied to you,” Draco began, as they sat in the Slytherin common room together.

Knowing Draco, this could have been leading anywhere.

“About what?” Lorelei questioned.

Draco grinned, reaching into his pocket. “I may have saved one final Christmas gift for you. I was waiting for the right time to give it to you,” he announced.

“Draco, it’s June! You already got me three!” Lorelei teased.

“No, two of those were for your birthday,” he reminded her.

“Most people just combine them into one single gift for the year,” she pointed out, reminding him that her birthday had just passed on the eighteenth.

“Well. Unfortunately, I’m not most people,” he sighed, offering up the mysterious little black box.

Lorelei finally allowed her charmed smile to shine through, accepting the spontaneous gift as he watched her readily.

“You’re right. You’re not,” she grinned, “I really am dating the soon-to-be most powerful man in the world.”

“Keep talking like that, and we’ll have to go to bed early,” he warned her.

Lorelei hardly felt the need to stifle her excited giggle as she unfolded the black parchment inside the box, revealing one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry she’d ever seen in her life.

“Draco!” she shouted, unsure of what reaction was even appropriate.

Lorelei had opened her present to find a ring inside, but clearly not just any ring. It was an exquisite ring with what could only be described as a giant stone on it, a stone that she had realized could only be a diamond. Lorelei had no idea how to even react, even despite all the lavish gifts Draco had ever gotten her.

“This is truly the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen!” she cried, immediately trying it on for size.

“That’s not just any ring,” Draco told her thoughtfully, “It’s much more than that.”

“How do you mean?” Lorelei wondered, smiling as the ring fit perfectly on her right ring finger.

“I had to unlock a vault for this one,” he explained, looking at the ring on her finger. “It belonged to my grandmother. Viola Malfoy.”

At this, Lorelei looked up at him in shock, understanding for the first time what the gift had truly meant.

“Your grandmother’s wedding ring? You mean the family ring?” Lorelei asked with uncertainty.

“The very same,” Draco nodded.

“But… Your mother never even got this ring,” she reasoned.

“She never wanted it. She saved it, for me,” he explained. “She wanted her son to be able to be married with it. In fact, she’s glad I asked for it.”

“Draco,” Lorelei said after a moment, “You’re not…?”

“Asking you to marry me now?” he deduced. “No, of course not, I just… I just thought you should know that you’re the one I want to give this ring to, someday.”

Lorelei studied him as she happily returned the ring.

“Do you know what today is?” he asked her.

“June twelfth?” she asked tentatively.

“Two weeks before the one-year anniversary of our first kiss,” Draco recited.

“You remember?” Lorelei said in awe.

“Of course I do,” he nodded. “In two weeks, we’ll have been together for one year. And I don’t want to stop there.”

Lorelei couldn’t have thought of anything better as she sat with him, enjoying their time together.

“This ring will be in my family forever,” he said as he returned it to its box, “And so will you. If you want to be.”

“I think I do,” she nodded, a smile on her face.

“Good,” Draco decided, relieved that everything had gone as planned. “I think I like the idea of having my life planned out… Just not quite in the way my parents do,” he admitted.

“You don’t have to judge yourself the way they would,” Lorelei thought as she spoke, “I find I’m the happiest with myself when I think about things the way I want to.”

“You’re right,” Draco admitted, “I just… I don’t know. A part of me feels if they’ve given me everything, the least I can do is do what they want me to with it all,” he expressed.

“That’s not the only choice you have,” Lorelei said.

“What else is there?” he asked curiously.

“You can always just walk away,” she pointed out with simplicity. “Just say no, and jog on.”

Draco looked at her in surprise. He never in a million years would have put those words in Lorelei Morrigan’s mouth.

“Could you?” he asked her.

She considered his question for a moment.

“If I had a good enough reason to,” she nodded. “Yes.”

The thought struck Draco as he took a moment for himself.

“Can I ask you something?” he said out of the blue.

“Anything,” she nodded.

“Would you walk away for me?” he asked.

“Would you ever ask me to?”

“That’s not the question.”

Lorelei paused as she contemplated thoughtfully, letting the idea stew before she trusted her instincts.

“I would,” she answered, leading him to a second question.

“Can I tell you something?” he asked nervously.

“Anything,” she promised.

Draco frowned, not comforted by the response as she tried to find a way not to completely ruin the beautiful serenity of her current disposition.

“I… almost had to decide whether I wanted to walk away,” he said slowly, “For you…”

“For me?” Lorelei questioned, a wrinkle in her brow.

She didn’t want to say it, but her first thought was simply ‘But, I’m a Pureblood’.

“Yes,” Draco nodded slowly, gathering the courage, “You know, at first, in the very beginning… my father wasn’t completely sold on us.”

“‘Sold on us’?” Lorelei picked at the phrasing.

“Yes, he, erm… Didn’t know if he felt you were reputable enough,” he explained further.

“Why?” Lorelei wondered, trying not to sound too critical. “I’m a Morrigan.”

“Yes, and he did say that that was quite impressive… But he was a bit disappointed, at first, that you weren’t, you know… Sacred Twenty-Eight,” Draco Malfoy provided diplomatically.

“Oh.”

It was a quiet, and matter of fact ‘oh’. But still, Draco felt guilty.

“But, he came around fairly quickly,” Draco assured her, “I mean… Considering you’re descended from the Ravenclaws, and such, it wasn’t a hard sell.”

“It’s not certain we’re descended from them,” Lorelei reminded him.

“No, it is,” Draco said.

She sighed exhaustedly. “Perhaps you’re right.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore,” he reassured her, “My father likes you now. We have his support now.”

“As much as you and Pansy did?” Lorelei rai

The mention of her made Draco grimace.

“I’ll admit, Father was way too attached to that prospect,” he noted, “You know… I think he was one of the few people who found her personality inspiring instead of repulsive.”

“I’ll say,” Lorelei scoffed.

Draco had the most sympathy for the insult.

“Well, at any rate,” she digressed, “I am glad he’s decided I’m worthy of ‘carrying on his bloodline’, or whatever.”

“You’re more than,” Draco replied with confidence, “If I had to procreate with anyone else, I think I’d cut everything off entirely.”

Lorelei couldn’t help but laugh at his dramatic tendencies. Seeing her uplifting smile made Draco laugh at his own joke as well, the two of them more in harmony than ever.

Chapter Twenty-Two

#draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #hpdm #hp fanfic #hp #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x you #tom felton

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