Author's Note: I'm back! And happily accepting requests, so please send your ideas in! Still writing for HP, but I absolutely abhor and do not stand by JK Rowling. Anything I write in this fandom is done for the community we have built despite her best efforts.
Content: Nudity, references to sex, arranged marriages
“Must you leave so soon?”
The question was posed so quietly, you wouldn’t have caught it at all if you hadn’t been waiting for it. It was a formality, at this point.
“Lucius…” Equally soft, pleading.
You and Lucius had repeated this conversation so many times, you could probably recite the entire exchange without his help. You refrained only because you enjoyed the sound of his voice.
“No, I mean it this time. Stay.” He pushed himself up on one arm, silky blonde hair spilling over his shoulders. Merlin, you were weak.
Your brow furrowed. That wasn’t in the script. The two of you fell into bed together, you dozed in his arms for a bit, he pretended to ask you to stay, and then you went home. Pureblood life meant not getting to spend real time with your lovers, and the always in demand Lucius Malfoy was no different.
You shifted, his sheets brushing pleasantly over your bare skin as you turned to regard him.
“Lucius?” Urgent this time, though no less hushed. He held your gaze, jaw set stubbornly.
“Just stay.” The ‘please’ was unspoken, but you could see it in the lines of his face, in the way his eyes dropped to the bed as he spoke, in the way his hands twitched as if he wanted to reach for you. Your chest grew tight as you realized that he was serious, the unspoken consequences weighing against your desire.
“You know it isn’t that simple.” You reached out, brushing the tips of your fingers against his cheek. He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch without shame or hesitation. He was such a different man with you. Still proud, still stubborn, but soft. Affectionate. There were no sharp edges with you.
“But what if it could be?” He asked after a pause. If you knew Lucius less, you might have thought that he was fantasizing. What if, indeed? Knowing him as you did, though, you knew there was something to the question. You worried your bottom lip between your teeth, trying to work out the trap.
Loving Lucius Malfoy was no easy feat, and the past two years had not been kind to either of you with both of your parents constantly watching every moment to make sure you didn’t ruin your marriage prospects. What if it could be simple? No more sneaking around, no more lying to your parents about parties, no more spinning tales to your friends about dates gone sour that you didn’t bother actually attend, no more spoofing floo addresses… No more watching pureblood families parade their marriageable daughters in front of Lucius at every holiday.
“Could it be?” The words were past your lips before you could swallow them, betrayed by your own hopeless romanticism.
A smile curled the edge of Lucius’s lips: He had you. He twisted in his position, reaching for the drawer of his bedside table. You couldn’t help but to admire the lines of his body as he moved, the memories of your earlier entanglement still warming your body.
Those thoughts chilled the instance he handed you a familiar roll of parchment. The heavy wax seal hanging loosely from your side could only be your father’s.
“What’s this?” You asked, running your thumb over the family crest. Lucius shook his head.
“Read it.”
Your hands trembled as you unrolled the letter, the parchment fragrant and familiar in your hands.
To The Esteemed Young Mr. Lucius Abraxas Malfoy,
Send my regards to your mother and father. Abraxas has reached out to me separately and I am overjoyed to inform you that I would like to officially accept your request to court my daughter. I look forward to your official declaration at her debut next month, and your father and I shall be working out the details of a betrothal…
The words blurred on the page.
“You requested…”
“Naturally. I wasn’t going to let Mulciber or Zabini bid for your hand.” He scoffed.
You didn’t realize you were crying until you laughed, the sound choked and watery. You reached blindly for Lucius and he met you half way, pulling you across the bed into his warm embrace.
“But I thought… The Black family?”
“Abraxas thought so as well. Unlike him to be so short-sighted.” Lucius smoothed your hair and pressed a kiss to your temple, “It took some talking, but I showed him the prospects of an alliance with your family were more appealing than whatever handshake deal he made with Black.”
You shook your head, disinterested in the business side of a pureblood betrothal. The only thing that mattered was Lucius.
“So I can…”
“Stay.” Lucius said, a soft smile playing across his lips as he leaned in to kiss you sweetly, and then again, and again to reassure you. You nestled your face into the crook of his neck, pressing small kisses where your mouth rested.
[Credit to imaginestuffandthangs for the header and the original imagine]
Title: Bedside Manner
Pairing: Frank Castle x Reader
Word Count: 812
A/N: Y’all I love Frank Castle so much. The Punisher is probably my favorite Marvel show, but it is SO painful for me to watch because his character is just,,, so heavy. Please send in your requests! My asks are open!!
“I can’t go in there!” You frowned as you approached the nurse’s stand. Two of your coworkers were standing over the duty roster, clearly arguing over a room. You sighed, knowing that this meant you would be asked for a trade. You wondered if it was the handsy old man in 4C or the violent woman in 4A. You weren’t sure which you were hoping for.
One of the nurses heard you coming and turned, her eyes lighting up as you walked over to fill out the log.
“Can we swa-“
“Yeah of course, which room is it?” You asked, not bothering to look up from what you were writing.
“Frank Castle, 4G.” She lowered her voice, as if the patient would some how hear her from all the way down the hall. The name sounded familiar.
“That Punisher guy?” You asked, frowning. From what you had heard, he had been a model patient ever since he realized where he was. That didn’t seem so terrible.
“Yeah! Did you hear what he did to that guy’s face?” The other nurse asked, whispering conspiratorially. You nodded.
“Yeah, but did you hear what he did to deserve it?” You asked. You picked up the new clipboard, not bothering to wait for a response. The other two nurses returned to their gossip, relieved to be free of the patient.
You knocked on the door to 4G before opening it. The patient was… not exactly what you were anticipating.
“Oh boy, you sure look like shit.” Okay, so it wasn’t the most professional thing you could have said, but the patient really did look like shit. His face was cut up and bruised, the skin underneath one eye darker than the leather strap on your watch. To his credit, he laughed, a grin pulling up the left side of his mouth.
“Yeah?” He asked, looking up at you, bemused.
“Yeah.” You answered. “Let me guess, I should see the other guy?” You asked, busying yourself with checking his IV drips. That one got another laugh out of him. When you turned back to him, he was watching you, that lopsided grin still on his face. He might be cute, under all the cuts and bruises.
“Nah, this one’s all on me, I’m afraid.” He admitted sheepishly. You clicked your tongue, checking the various pieces of equipment connected to him.
“They pay you more to talk to me?” The question came out of nowhere, and it took you a moment to realize that it was directed at you, despite the fact that you were the only person in the room.
“Huh?” You paused, pen centimeters away from his chart. He made a vague gesture to indicate the hospital staff.
“The other nurses are all scared of the Big Bad Punisher. How’d they get you to talk?” He asked. You raised your eyebrows.
“You find away to get them to pay me for anything extra and I’ll give you a cut. Way I see it, you’re not very scary all confined to a hospital bed, looking like someone kicked your ass.” You answered. You scribbled down his vitals on his chart and hung the clipboard at the foot of the hospital bed.
He laughed, really laughed that time, clutching his side as the movement strained his broken ribs. It took him a moment to catch his breath and then he was looking at you like you were some kind of present, just for him.
“You are really something.” He said, shaking his head, “You don’t watch the news?” You knew what he was asking. Don’t you know what I’ve done? You shrugged.
“I watch it plenty.” I know why you did it.
The silence stretched long between you. You should have left already. You needed to eat lunch eventually, and he wasn’t supposed to be your patient anyway. Still, there was something in his face that told you that you had said exactly what he didn’t know he needed to hear. He swallowed, his eyes never leaving your face.
Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it because he just smiled softly and leaned back into his bed. Oh fuck. If anyone had told you that a smile from the Punisher would make you weak at the knees while you were working, you might have punched them. That, though, that smile was something you didn’t think a man with his history could muster anymore.
“Try to come by and insult me some more. Keep me humble.” He said, winking with his less-injured eye. You laughed, rolling your eyes at him as you stepped towards the door.
“Oh, of course. Wouldn’t want you getting a big head, might irritate the lacerations.” You felt warm as you left the room, wondering how many rules about bedside manner you had managed to violate, and how much you actually cared.
A girl went alone into a deep dark wood. Vampires and other terrible monsters were known to haunt those woods, but the flowers that grew at the center of the forest were the only cure for her mother’s illness.
As she was going, suddenly a tall bloodless man appeared before her. He wore a long black cloak and a wide-brimmed hat. His eyes were vividly red. She tried to run, but he caught her in an instant in a grip like steel. Her struggling was useless, and his cold hand was covering her mouth, preventing her scream.
His seductive voice was in her ear. “Stop struggling,” he said. “I won’t hurt you.”
Eventually she stopped struggling. He did not let her go yet. “There are many things in this forest that will hurt you. When I let you go, you must not run.”
She nodded her head into his clutching hand. He let her go, and she did not run. She found his voice mysteriously soothing. It made her want to stay near him.
He led her in a trance back to his manor house in the misty deep of the woods. He kept her mesmerized with his serene voice and his ruby red eyes, and he fed on her blood every night.
One night she woke up and the vampire was gone, and the trance had worn off. She seemed to wake as if from a dream. Terrified, fearing for life and despairing over her mother’s health, she fled into the woods.
She became lost, and large hulking things were creeping after her in the dark. Something jumped out at her, a terrible monster, part dog, part hawk, part spider. It would have devoured her, but she was rescued by the vampire. She wept with relief when he swept her into his cold arms. At least he had been devouring her slowly. She returned to the manor with him, falling again into her laconic trance.
But she had changed, she had remembered her errand. She was melancholy now, and often wept, “Mother, mother.” The vampire found it very distracting.
“Why do you cry for your mother so?” he demanded. She told him of her mother’s illness and of the curing flowers in the center of the forest.
“A simple matter,” he said. “Stay here and do not leave.”
He vanished before her eyes. She did not try to leave the house again. She waited in the luxurious bedroom for him to return. He seemed gone a long time, until she began to feel lonely and afraid.
Then suddenly he was in the room with her again. He took her into his cold arms, placed her in his lap, and nuzzled into her neck, preparing to bite her.
Between mouthfuls, with his voice in her ear, he told her how he had mesmerized her mother and made her eat the medicinal flowers, how he had stayed and watched, hidden, for three days to make sure she was improving, before erasing her memory and leaving.
The girl didn’t believe him. Offended to be doubted, the vampire enchanted one of the mirrors to reflect, not his bedroom, but her mother’s sitting room. The girl saw her mother looking healthy in the mirror. But she couldn’t believe that either, she said. It could all be an illusion.
The vampire was growing exasperated. He took the girl out of the forest, back to the town where she was born, back to the house of her mother so she could see for herself that the woman was well.
“Let me go to her,” she begged. “She’ll worry about me. She’ll wonder where I am.” The girl could not be consoled. The vampire let her go. She went to her mother and the two had a tender and tearful reunion.
The girl and her mother lived happily for a while. But the girl felt perversely lonely for the vampire. Sometimes she missed his cold touch and the ache of his fangs in her neck. Her mother saw her daughter’s pining. “Daughter,” she said, “I am well now and still young yet. You don’t have to take care of me anymore. Disappear into the woods again if you want.”
The girl went back into the forest to search for her vampire. It was very dark, and she was afraid, but it wasn’t long before he found her. She thought he would be angry with her, but he was welcoming, seductive and hungering for her. He took her back to his home to feed.
