#FOR LEGAL REASONS i do not think they are near the point of shutting down even with the noticeable plummet

[toxicanonymity]

The Contractor. Silence can never be bought, only rented (pt. 6 of 6)

4k / dbf!Joel x f!Reader / pt 1 / master list

STORY MASTER LIST

Warnings/Notes: I8+ some angst, dry (wet?) humping, unsafe PIV SEX (!), legal age gap. Acronyms - RICO is about organized crime. barely edited.

It’s so close.  It’s finally here. His hand slides under your shirt, runs over your back then pulls you closer. He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You want the truth.  You pry your lips away from his, and right away, he latches onto your neck.  “What did my Dad want?” you ask. Between kisses, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”

Joel shows you his phone and your dad is at the gate.  He thinks in silence for a moment. 

“Well, we’re not doing anything,” you offer, but your heart is pounding.  “Don’t let him in.”

“I’ve gotta let him in.  What’s he gonna think if I don’t?”

He rubs his beard and opens his home automation app.  “You’re in the pool house,” he decides.  He turns on a dim light in the pool house.  

“What does he want?” you ask.  

“Hell if I know.  Go through the basement.” 

“No way.” 

“Come on, Trouble.” 

“I’m not going through the tunnel alone.” 

He seems endeared by your fear.  “Do it for us,”  he says with a wink that makes your heart jump.  Then he gets up to take the drinks to the sink. 

“Wait,” you say. 

He freezes. 

“What were you gonna say? Now that I know . . . ?”

“Now that you know, I don’t have to worry about you finding out later and being mad.”

You kind of doubt that’s what he was going to say.  “I’m mad anyway,” you say. 

“Figured.  It’s okay.”

A car door opens and closes.  

“Go,” he whispers. “I’ll come get you when he’s gone.” 

You make it to the pantry stairs just in time.  

-

When your dad comes in, Joel says, “Welcome back.” 

Your dad asks, “Where’s my girl?”  

“Sleepin’ it off in the pool house, I reckon.  Didn’t want her to drive.” 

There’s a long pause and your heart races. 

Your dad says, “Good, good. . .thanks.” 

Damn, Joel is smooth.  He asks your dad, “Somethin’ you didn’t wanna call about?”

“Yeah. . .” 

You’re tempted to stay and hear more, but you’re also afraid of what you might hear.  You creep down the stairs quietly.  You think about going to the theater instead and waiting in one of those recliners.  It’s silly, but you really don’t want to go underground to the pool house.  The tunnel is climate controlled and has automatic lights, but it’s still spooky without windows.  

-

You’re standing near the tunnel entrance trying to work up your nerve when you hear raised voices, and now you can’t resist.  You quietly make your way back toward the stairs to listen.  If no one is going to tell you what’s going on, this is your chance to find out.  It occurs to you there’s no reason for you to go all the way to the pool house except that Joel doesn't want you to hear this.  Otherwise, you could have hidden anywhere and your dad would be none the wiser. 

A cabinet slams shut and Joel demands,  “How many aren’t you tellin’ me about?”

“Not tellin’ you? I just found out!  I’m not in charge, you know that.”  Glasses clink with ice. 

“North of the fuckin’ border again. God damnit,” Joel says. He’s even more heated than he was in the car the other day. 

Your dad asks, “What do I have to do to get you all in on this? Let’s get it done and be done with it.”

“You know what I want.  I want out.”

“You’ll be out.” 

“I want it in writing.” 

Your dad scoffs.  “You want a paper trail now? When the whole point was to keep your charges off paper?” 

“Not the charges, damnit.”

“Then what do you want in writing? You made some bad guys go away in exchange for evidence going away, now we’re square?” 

“It was supposed to be a six month contract.  Here we are, how many renewals later? And I’m still consulting.”  You can picture the air quotes with the way he says it.  

“Still better than 20 years for RICO,” your dad says. 

“Never woulda gotten the max. . . You know what? At least the wiseguys have a code.”

Your dad sharpens his tone.  “Ever wonder what happened to that evidence?”

“FUCK”  A glass shatters. “I’m never gettin’ out. Just say it.”

“This is the last-” 

“Don’t string me along with this one last job bullshit, then the job’s a whole fuckin’ cartel.  Call it what it is.  I’m an asset.  Not a contractor if I don’t got a fuckin’ choice.”

“You’re gonna be out.” 

“You won’t even give me your word.”

“Joel, you have my word.”

“Alright,”  Joel calms down a little.  “And what about you?  You ever think about your daughter in all this? You want her on tiktok seein’ your head roll off one day ‘cause you couldn’t take the loss and retire?”  

“Don’t talk about my daughter.”

There’s a moment of silence, then your dad continues. 

“We’re on the same team, buddy.  I want this over as bad as you do.  C’mon, let’s look at the intel.” 

You’re sick to your stomach.  Whatever this is sounds like it’s about your dad’s ego. What’s new. You shrink back to the tunnel and jog through it so it’s over fast.  

-

You’re laying on the couch in the pool house, and you don’t even want to think about what you just heard.  So you’re replaying the earlier conversation in your head.  The one about your stepmother and  . . . gross.  Something doesn’t sit right about it.  You’re trying to figure out why Joel would have felt guilty for you blackmailing him into sex. 

It hits you that the only reason he’d feel guilty is if it were his doing. . . If he realized you thought you had leverage and saw an opportunity.  Deprive you, make you want it that bad, see if you’d try to twist his arm into it.  And once you got there, game over?  Was he just getting off on having the power all along? Then you ask yourself the real question.  If that’s the case . . . do you wish none of it ever happened?  It’s an easy no.  

So you put that to rest and can’t help but think about what you overheard between Joel and your dad. You want to know how this all happened, but from the way Joel was talking about heads rolling off,  you’re most worried about what he and your dad are up to right now.  You want to hear it from Joel.  You want to know what his real job is.  The truth might be the only thing you want more than to fuck him.  And if he won’t tell you the truth, maybe he doesn’t deserve the latter. 

You’re exhausted from being in the sun all day.  There’s a big, heavy blanket – silky, not exactly cozy.  It’s like a rich guy blanket, probably put there by an interior decorator.  You curl up on the oversized couch and pull it over you.  There’s a bedroom, but you don’t expect this to take as long as it does, so you don’t get in bed.  You stay on the couch.  It feels like Joel is taking forever, but you’re too tired to even look at the time. You take off your shorts and bra, swaddle yourself in the blanket, and drift off. 

-

You don’t hear Joel come in or take off his pants or put his stuff on the table.  You feel cold for a moment when he lifts the blanket, but then he gets under it with you and takes you into his arms, and he’s warm.   

You stir, and Joel whispers, “You wanna get in bed?”  

You shake your head no.  

“It’s right there . . .”

“No,” you manage weakly.  You’re not remembering any of the drama at the moment, just enjoying being in his arms and too sleepy to move.  

“Ok,” he whispers, and kisses you on the head.  You fall back asleep with your head in the crook of his neck. 

. . . 

In the middle of the night, you wake up in his arms with one of his legs hooked over both of yours and his boxers pressed against your panties, which are soaked with arousal, you can feel it.  He’s only somewhat hard, but it’s enough to make you need it, bad.  He smells freshly showered but you can still catch a hint of his sweat, which makes you need it worse.  Your nose brushes his beard as you look up at his face. 

He blinks awake with sleepy eyes.  He presses his lips into yours for a long kiss that starts light, affectionate, closed-mouth, then becomes desperate, invasive. You accept his tongue greedily. He hardens right against your crotch.  His hips roll into yours, and before long, he’s rock hard, and you softly moan “mmm” into his mouth.  

He whispers, “Are you on-” 

“Yeah,” you cut him off.  Then he covers your mouth with his lips again.  Yeah, you’re on birth control, and the question makes you throb as he kisses you.  It’s so close.  It’s finally here. It’s grinding into you right now.  His hand slides under your shirt and runs over your bare back, pulling you closer against him, and he moans softly.  He feels so good, it’s like a dream.  

But the more you wake up, the more your thoughts creep in.  You really, really want the truth.  It dawns on you this might be your best shot at getting it. 

You pry your lips away from his, and right away he latches onto your neck.  

“What did my Dad want?” you ask him. 

Between kisses on your neck, he murmurs, “don’t worry about it.”  

“Tell me what’s going on,” you demand.  

He rolls his arousal into your clit and you bite your lip to suppress a moan while you wait for his answer. 

 “Not now, sugar. . .”

He lifts your shirt swiftly but smoothly and palms a breast, then is hard-on drags down your thigh and you feel a damp spot on his boxers. He takes your nipple into his mouth while he pulls your shirt off, and you help him, despite your reservations.  You need the truth, but you’re aching.  Your body needs to be filled by his. 

“Not now. . . so, when?” you ask. 

“When I’m back,” he sighs.  

“Back from what?”

He doesn’t answer.  He lightly drags his lips over the top curve of your breast, over your shoulder, up your throat, your jaw, to your ear.  

-

His boxers find your drenched panties again and press against you in just the right place.   He’s so stiff, it takes your breath away, and a soft moan falls out of your mouth.  He whispers, “This is all that matters,” and you want him to be right so bad.  He nibbles then sucks your neck right under your ear. He grinds his rock-hard member into you in a slow rhythm at just the right angle.

“This,” he says, looking from your eyes to your mouth and back.  He wraps his arms around you, grinding into you rhythmically.  He kisses you again, and his tongue erases whatever words were on yours.  Blood rushes to your lips with the gentle suction of his own. With his face still on yours, he slowly, carefully takes his boxers off under the blanket. 

You slide your hand down his abdomen and your breath hitches as you graze the light padding of his lower stomach.  You find that small, circular scar and gently caress it.  He flinches, then moves your hand to his cock.  It sends a  bolt of need to your aching clit, but you still have to ask. 

“What’s it from?”

“C’mere,” he says, and latches onto your mouth again as he thrusts into your hand.  

You want his lips on yours forever.  You want nothing more than to just give in and fuck him.  You push yourself up with your arm and he rolls onto his back.  You shrug off the blanket.  He watches you in a trance as you straddle him with his cock still in  your hand.  You thumb his scar again and he says, “you know I served.”  Right.  Of course.  

His stomach rises and falls, and his head tilts slightly as he watches you nestle his naked cock at your drenched, silky underwear, right against your clit.  You roll your hips into him and moan at the friction. 

“Let’s lose these, sugar,” he pants. He hooks his fingers into your underwear and you lift each leg to slowly slip out of them.  

-

You settle back in, then close your eyes, tilt your hips, and use him to pleasure yourself.  You drag along his cock, from your clit to your dripping entrance and back, making his manhood shine with you, and he groans.  Then you lay your hips onto his again and his hips rock against you, with his unfathomably hard cock gliding firmly against your slick.  

He moans and breathes heavily.  “I gotta be inside you, sugar,“ he says as he grinds into you rhythmically.  

“I’ve gotta know the truth,” you reply, but it physically pains you.  

He groans.  “Fuck,” he pants. “What do you wanna know?”

“What you’re up to,” you say as you use your hips to massage yourself with his stiff manhood.  

He takes a deep breath.  “It’s complicated,” he says, and you inwardly acknowledge he’s probably right.  You stop moving and start to back yourself down his thighs.  You bend at the hip and hover over his cock. 

“Are you still in construction?” You stroke him slowly.  

“Still own the business.”  He adjusts his hips under you.  

“But that’s not all you do.”  You bring it almost to your mouth and take a deep whiff of his musk which makes you twitch with need. 

“No,” he quietly admits. 

You think about how to simplify this and get it over with.  You throw caution to the wind and ask,  “Do you kill people?” You thumb the precum beading at his tip.  No immediate answer.  Then, you take his salty tip into your mouth for just a kiss and he groans.  You take it out.

He sighs.  “You really wanna know?” He thrusts into your hand.

You give it another kiss. “Yeah.” 

You slowly crawl back up his body and lay half on him and he rolls toward you so you’re on your side like before.  You hook your top leg over him.  You search his eyes for an answer, but he looks down at your bodies instead.  His large hand engulfs your ass cheek, caresses it with his palm, then gives it a firm squeeze and pulls you hard against him, and your wet pussy meets his stiff cock again.  

“What do you think?” He asks quietly, then buries his nose in your neck and whispers, “Cause you’re prolly right.”  Your heart skips a beat.  You wanted more, but at the same time, it feels like he just told you everything he has to tell - or that’s what you’re trying to believe, for your body’s sake.  You don’t feel anything about what he just said. All you feel is him, and that’s all you want.  

-

He groans as he grinds into you, and his neck vein bulges. He rolls his arousal harder against your slick seam and kisses your neck. “Come on, sugar,” he says.  

You open your mouth but don’t have any words, you can only breathe.  He ruts against you again and you close your eyes with a moan.  You’re throbbing, physically aching, swollen with need, dying to have him.  

“Gotta be inside you now baby,” Joel repeats, smooth and low.  He thrusts hard against your clit, slow, but so hard.  His mouth devours yours, and your nipples harden against his broad chest.  When his stiff member drags back down your clit, he hesitates at your entrance, then puts his hand on your ass, and the tip of his cock is caught by a tilt of your hips.  Tension swells and tightens deep within you. 

He begins to slowly push the firm head of his cock into your tight, wet hole and reads your face.   You have to remind yourself to breathe. Your brow furrows.  You bite your lip and inhale through your nose.  You both adjust your hips so the angle is just right.  He pushes a little more, and the stretch of his girth makes your whole body dizzy and desperate for more.  He pauses and you just barely nod. 

The arm under you pulls you closer with his hand flat on your back while his other hand braces on your leg that’s hooked over him.  Then he pushes his stiff length into you with a grunt that becomes a loud sigh, and you gasp as his thick cock makes room for itself inside you.  He pauses when he’s mostly in, and you look into each other’s eyes.  

“Now fuck me,” you whisper.  

“Yes ma’am,” he growls.  He backs out all but the tip, then plunges into you completely.  Your mouth falls open with a moan as your bodies are finally joined and he bottoms out with a shudder.  

His lips latch onto yours as he retreats, then slams into you again with a grunt.  He buries himself in you, slow and hard, each time somehow better than the last.  Your hips roll into him, and together, you gradually up the tempo.  You kiss sloppily, half your mouths breathing heavily and vocalizing against each other’s cheek. Each exhale is a moan.

His hips roll fluidly against yours and his whole body tells you how bad he’s been wanting this. Every time he fills you up, you could cry from how good it feels.  He opens his mouth wide and puts it on your neck again, gently sucking your delicate skin into his mouth.  He grabs hold of your ass and uses the arm under you to gently put you on your back without fully pulling out.  Your legs wrap around him and he sheathes himself entirely once again.  

You hook your fingers under the bottom hem of his t-shirt and pull it over his head.  He takes in the view of your whole body again before he leans back down.  

“You look so goddamn hot,” he says, looking down at you, thrusting into you. He looks hot, too.  

The moonlight reveals a faint farmer’s tan from the barbecue.  His pecs and triceps are pumped up and flexing as he moves in rhythm.  His hair is messy and perfect.  The silver bits of his beard glisten. 

He leaves space between you and reaches down to thumb your clit, almost putting you over the edge, but you quickly take his hand and pull his body back into yours.  

“About to come?” he asks.  You nod and take a deep breath.  He thrusts into you hard then slowly rocks his hips deep inside you with his neatly trimmed hair grinding into your clit.  The tension bursts inside you and you groan his name as a massive wave of pleasure overwhelms you.  Then another.  You clench around him and your body jerks erratically.  Your nipples go almost painfully hard and drag against him.  

He pushes deeper than you thought possible, balls tightening against your ass, and you gasp and moan. Then he grunts, pulses inside you, and his whole body shudders as you milk his cock.  You keep pulsing as he fills you up with his seed. Your whole body is drunk with him.  When you’re both finished coming, he looks at you, and himself, then you again as he catches his breath.  He strokes your face and says, “god damn.” 

You almost forget you’re two different bodies until he slides out of you, leaving a void your insides try to fill. He lays on his side and takes you in his arms again.  

-

He looks so peaceful.  At the moment, you don’t care if you still don't know what’s going on.  You don’t even care if he manipulated you into wanting this so desperately.  All you care about is whether this is going to happen again, and you’re terrified of finding out it’s not.  You start to worry about him going to do this job. 

After a long silence, you say,  “You don’t wanna do it, do you?”

“Do what?” 

“Whatever you have to go and do.”

The peace evaporates from his face.  He sighs.  “No. . . No, I don’t, sugar.”  He rubs his temples with the thumb and pinky of one massive hand.  

“Then why do it?”

“No choice,” he says. 

“That’s messed up,” you say.  “I mean, not having a choice.”

“Yeah, well, it was my own dumb ass.  Thought I was gettin’ outta somethin’ worse.  Didn’t know what I was gettin’ into.” 

“How do you get out of it now?”

“Finish the job, call it a day, see what happens.” 

“Really?”

“It’s been a long time comin’.” 

A couple seconds after he says it, a little smile tugs at the corner of his mouth.  He doesn’t have to make the joke out loud.  You playfully pinch his cheek. 

“Worth the wait?” he asks with a smirk.  

You shrug, and he says, “I’ll take it.” You can feel your whole face and body glowing.  You don’t need to spell it out.

-

You get pensive thinking about why now, why tonight.  “You weren’t just pissed at my dad, were you?”

He chuckles, then almost seems to panic when he sees you’re serious. “God, no, Trouble. . . “   His heart rate visibly quickens on his neck.  He didn’t even have to ask you what you meant.  He wraps his arms tight around you and kisses your head.  

“So whatever happened to ‘not tonight’?” you ask. 

“Couldn’t help it,” he says.  “Neither could you.”  Well, that’s true.  “Plus, now I don't have to worry ‘bout you findin’ out you didn’t blackmail me.  That woulda broken your sick little heart.”

“Maybe,” you say, still a little paranoid, but you push the thoughts away.  

“I don’t think your dad needs to know about this,” he says.  “That woulda been a sick serve though if I was mad at him,” he chuckles.

“Did you just say sick serve. . . “

“Sick serve,” he whispers in your ear.

“I don’t think that means what you– where do you pick this stuff up, anyway?” 

“Prolly Jesse, he never shuts up.”

“So, Jesse’s-”

Joel puts his thumb on your lips.  “Said too much already,” he says. “ You gotta keep it to yourself, okay?”  You give his thumb a little bite before he takes it away. 

It’s funny, you never had anything over him before, but now you kinda do.  Not that you’ll do anything with it.  Too dangerous. 

“Yeah,” you say.  

After a long silence, you ask, “What are you gonna do when it’s over?”

He sighs and adjusts his arms around you.  “This right here,” he says.  “If you want.”  

You fall asleep in his arms again. 

-

When you wake up, he’s gone.  It’s light outside.  Birds are chirping.  You have a text from him that says “Stay here if you want. Back in a couple days.”   You don’t stay there.  It’s too creepy without him.  You go back to your apartment, but you worry about him a lot and check your phone constantly.  A few days later, you get off work, and when you walk out of the bookstore, he’s parked there, leaning against his truck, ankles crossed, wearing Ray Bans and a t-shirt, jeans as tight as ever, arms tucked under his massive biceps.  

“Here comes trouble” he says as he pushes himself off his truck.  He puts his hands on his hips and lets his pants adjust as he pops out one knee.   

Your lips meet as he wraps his arms around you.  

“All done?” you ask.   

“Let’s celebrate,” he says.  “Got that same suite on the river.  Booked it for the rest of the month, so I reckon I’ll be around.”  

-

Thank you for reading and engaging with this story for all six parts, y'all have been so awesome!

FWIW I see this as a happy ending with ominous undertones lol. I think I will come back to these two in the future (assuming there's still interest now that they've fucked). That's why I didn't blow my whole load in over explaining the subplot in this part. I initially included the sub plot so there would be an interesting basis to come back to them after the main story.

I just started another (darker) dad's best friend story: Left in Lincoln. In addition to smut it's also slow burn horror but no gore. Heed warnings. . .

-

Tags - This story: @jbcalway @daddy-din @angelmenace @silkiers @axshadows @legs0pen4dilfs @fan-fiction-floozy @grnherbs @icuminurbutt @lokanda @not-a-unique-snowflakewflake89 @likeanimagepassingby2 @witchy-jadda @mxtokko @missannwinchester @cannolighost @anxiousankylosaurus @montenegroisr @97cityy @lillyrob @billyloomiswhore4 @cloudroomblog @boysddontcry @blackvelveteen1339 @twsssmlmaa @call-me-doll-facee @str84pedro @ausamocee @skythighs @jasminedragon @leeeesahhh @blushynini @momia2910 

All joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxiousus @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime  @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose 

[mw4n]

Should ¥XX,000,000 Make Fushiguro's Shit Worth It? - ch. 2

༄ synopsis - Being Toji Fushiguro's in-house private solicitor may pay well, but recently you're reconsidering if the pay makes all the stress (read: Toji himself) worth it. At this point, with all the less-than-legal actions Toji commits on the regular, you're practically a certified mob lawyer. [ full synopsis ]

༄ series tags - toji fushiguro x reader; lawyer! reader; no curses; yakuza/organised crime; violence; explicit content; dilf! toji; tags to be added

༄ wc - 5.2k

<< ch. 1 || ch. 3 >>

( う-´)づ︻╦̵̵̿╤── \(˚☐˚”)/

It’s times like these where your brain disobediently begins to wander to relatively unimportant matters, like the chances of someone in the office accessing the printer history and seeing that you’ve freshly printed a document conspicuously labelled ‘CV - final.docx’ under your printing account.

Then, your brain starts to think about the chances of them bringing that up with your boss, and how embarrassing it’ll be if this falls through. 

If it was any other office, you’d say that those chances would be slim - if not flat out impossible. But your mind drifts further towards Usui, whose cubicle is parked right next to the printing room and has been known to snoop in the printer history when he’s bored.

That was how he found out one of your colleagues had been using the printer to print advertisements for their brother’s business: more than 90 flyers. 

Honestly, what kind of hobby is that? Browsing the printer history?

You purse your lips with annoyance at the thought, unaware that the slight movement has caught Fushiguro’s attention.

He pauses from his perusal of your CV - even the manner in how he scans your paper, one handed and casual, seems hot (insert dreamy sigh) - watching you silently over the top of the page. 

Finally, he speaks up.

“Something the issue?” The voice settles around you. The background noise dulls amidst the washing in your ears. 

Any concerns about Usui dematerialise and you snap to attention, not unlike a soldier before their superior.

“Not at all, Mr. Fushiguro. Take your time.” 

He hums, lowering back to your CV. It’s taking him longer than expected, but despite your shitty job, your CV is relatively impressive. It seems he also notices.

“So, Y/N, this is all well and good,” he sets it down, spinning it on the table to face you. He’s conjured a pen from somewhere and is using the back of it to tap at a particular set of words, “but what I want to know is why someone who graduated near top of her class from Kyoto University, excellent marks and sponsored by an international law firm, is doing at your current company and not… there.” 

The pen nib clicks onto paper and circles around the name of the firm. 

Is he even allowed to ask this? 

You stare down at it. It’s just a couple words - it doesn’t even take up that much space on the paper, but it had felt huge for the few months it occupied in your life. 

You’re not surprised he’s asking. If you were on the other side, interviewing a candidate, you would ask too.

The events of last year run through your mind, scenes rapidly unfurling. The sights, smell, sounds flood into you briefly. You resist the urge to withdraw and squeeze your eyes shut, settling for digging your nails into your palms under the table instead.

A scale sits inside your mind, weighing the choices. Either lay low, make up some reason, or be honest and risk… his disdain. 

The thought that he, like the others, would just dismiss you and think of you as another liar, presses against your chest suffocatingly. You can’t put your finger on why it would upset you so much.

So what if he doesn’t believe you? Worst comes to worst, you just go back to your cubicle and continue working. Nothing changes. The world goes on. 

You’re aware that the silence has stretched on a tad longer than it should’ve, yet Fushiguro doesn’t speak.

He leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. (He’s wearing a loose cream sweater this time, of which you suspect is designer. It’s got these irregular and obtrusive stitches at the cuffs and hem, but the rest of the make is constructed so well that those have to be deliberate design.) 

“I… did go to that firm, actually. I received the offer shortly after my undergrad and it was only with their help that I was able to pay for most of law school,” your voice dries up at the next part. You hem, taking a sip of water. “But it was during one of my training days there, right before I was set to graduate, where I ran into some trouble in the firm and… was terminated. Due to the sensitivity of what happened, they settled for just revoking my place and the last tuition payment.”

You weren’t blacklisted, per se, but it didn’t exactly help that the people involved in the ‘trouble’ were pretty well connected. 

He’s not stupid. Judging by how cautiously you’re speaking about it, he knows it would be fruitless to prod any further. 

“Are you not allowed to speak of it?” 

Your face remains stiff, betraying no emotion. “I wouldn’t really want to.”

If he decides to take back his offer because of this, you wouldn’t really blame him per se. You’re not exactly forthcoming with the details, and that could be a risk in itself depending on the job. 

“Hm…” Fushiguro scans the name of the firm on your CV, imprinting it in his memory. Though he’s not the most well-versed in the legal field, being involved in a completely different industry of work, the name feels familiar.

You watch him, almost cautiously. His face is unreadable. 

Your heart sinks. 

-

“Do you have any questions?”

You blink - the only indication of surprise you’ll allow yourself. Have you passed some kind of stage? Successfully, at that? 

Regaining your mental composure, you sit up straighter, hands folding neatly in your lap and knees pressing against one another. 

“For… you?”

There’s an amused lilt along his lip. The lip, which you notice, has a pale scar in the end. You wonder if that feels different than the rest of his skin. Probably.

“Yes, for me.” Though he’s not smiling, you can feel some smirk-like energy emanating off him. 

“Ah, I was mainly wondering what kind of work you’re involved in. What would I mainly be required to do?” 

You can’t lie, you’re curious on why he’s decided to extend an offer, an extremely generous one at that, to you in the first place, given your relatively limited interaction with him. 

“That…” this time, he’s the one who looks a little troubled. “It’s mainly just small things. Representing me when some clients try to sue my business, or if something happens with Megumi again, I can rest assured knowing that he’ll have someone to contact that knows what they’re doing. Just in case the brat runs into some… problems.”

Your brows furrow. “Typically, Mr. Fushiguro, paying someone to be your exclusive lawyer is quite a big deal-”

He flaps a hand, “if it’s the money you’re worried about, don’t be. I’ll compensate you satisfactorily.”

“I am worried about the money, but not my salary. With all due respect, Mr. Fushiguro, what kind of business do you run that allows you to pay so generously and require a lawyer?” You hesitate before saying this next part, but this interview has been relatively informal from the start and - again, if anything goes wrong, you’ll just go back to your tedious office job again. “And… what made you consider me as a candidate?”

“My business details will be confidential. But I call it that just for tax reasons, it’s essentially just me being a freelancer. As for why you…” Mr. Fushiguro leans back, stroking his chin thoughtfully. “... instinct?”

…

That answer was barely a step up from him saying ‘your looks’, and was hardly reassuring. You don’t get the sense that he’s as generous with details as he is with your future salary though. 

He must see the hesitant expression and deigns to elaborate. Though not much.

“Trust me, and in my line of work, instinct… is the difference between-” he raises a hand, drawing a line high, “-and here.” His hand plummets lower.

Heaven and hell. 

The reminder of your salary makes you swallow the rest of the questions back. No matter what hellish conditions he proposes or how hard he works you or how suspicious this is all beginning to sound… ¥XX,000,000 is a crazy number that lowers any inhibitions. 

An angel on your shoulder pipes up. But… what if he requires you to be on call 24/7? 

The devil on the opposite side smashes the thought with ‘¥XX,000,000’.

What if his personality as a boss ends up to be the absolute worst - worse than your current one! 

¥XX,000,000.

What if his work is… illegal?

You grit your teeth. 

¥XX,000,000!!!!!

That’s one, two, three, four, five, SIX zeroes at the end of that! 

The social media jokes about would you suck your bros dick for 20 dollars runs through your mind. That’s 20 dollars. Imagine this?

"And is the money… legal?” You feel hesitant asking this, worried if that’s an affront to his character.

He raises an eyebrow. “Say, how big of a concern would you say that is for you?”

our shock probably condenses too visibly, judging by the large guffaws that begin belting out of Fushiguro.

As you walk back to the office, your iced coffee barely touched and gripped in your hand (he had been smart to order both your drinks as takeaway, it seems), you feel dazed.

The concrete under your high-heeled pumps feels closer to clouds and a heaviness you hadn’t even known had been weighing on you feels lifted. 

The next steps logically present in front of you. You’ll have to type and present your two weeks notice to your boss, but Fushiguro said you’d be on call starting after this weekend.

That meant for your last week at work, you’d be working for Fushiguro - essentially two jobs at once. He hadn’t been the most forthcoming with details, but you hadn’t either with your past. And it seemed like his requirements weren’t that much.

Besides, it was just him and Megumi. Even though you were just one person, how much work could there be? 

You can’t even help but smugly think to yourself: this might be the easiest ¥XX,000,000 anyone’s ever made. 

(The you in the future can only look back at your naive self and sigh.)

--

The first time Fushiguro employs your services, he only texts you a location pin with four words. (‘My office. One hour.’) The notification catches your attention right as you step into the carriage of a packed train car, along with the rest of the 5PM rush, causing you to pivot directly on the heel and wrestle your way out. Apologising profusely to the others ,you have no choice.

You had just gotten off of work (it was still your last week in your crappy law firm) but Fushiguro had already told you at the informal ‘interview’ of the possibility of being contacted after the weekend. For that salary, you had no complaints of working two jobs for a week.

Judging from this text message and your first texting conversation, you can already feel that Fushiguro has a very identifiable no-nonsense minimalistic style. The lack of detail in his messages makes you want to grit your teeth, but there’s nothing you can do but squeeze into a different train line – enduring the disgruntled puffs and stares from the other sardined-crammed salary dogs eager to get home.

As you persist through the side-eyes from a couple of the older students, you reflect on that location pin. Why does his office location seem familiar?

It’s only when you step off the bus and approach the looming black gate, complete with two robust security cameras, that you realise that his office location is literally just his house.

Or at least, it’s the location that Megumi had you drop him off at a few weeks ago when he had busted his bike AND your car. The car, of which, was still getting serviced.

You had half a mind that the mechanic was an extreme slacker and had already resolved to never go to him again for any issues. Sure, the damage wasn’t small but did it really warrant more than three weeks in the shop?

Maybe you just didn’t know that much about cars.

Keeping your face as impassive as possible, you approach the intercom at the side of the gate and shoot a text to Fushiguro.

I’m here. What floor?

The message blueticks but no notice of him typing shows up. You furrow your brow, your thumbs hovering over the keyboard to follow up, when an abrupt grating noise causes you to jolt a foot in the air.

The black gate slides open a hair – its automatic – and you walk in.

Sidewalk-height embedded floor lamps light up the path to a two-story tall lofty glass lobby and carefully maintained shrubbery and foliage decorate the road in. The road stretches towards an underground carpark, but you just beeline to the lobby.

Everything about this gated community exudes wealth. If you had any doubts of Fushiguro’s ability to follow through with ¥XX,000,000, you don’t now.

Your phone dings again.

45.

You quickly text back asking for what flat, but upon pressing forty-five into the intercom, the lobby door opens automatically as well without having to input the corresponding flat letter.

A thought fills you.

There’s no way…

Indeed, Fushiguro’s apartment occupied the entirety of the forty-fifth floor. At this point, having seen the apartment complex and even how fast the elevator had jetted up all the way, your heart feels dead to the splendour of the rich. Instead you can only wonder what exactly does Fushiguro do?

The apartment door is partially ajar, light spilling into the dim lift-area, but you knock regardless.

A voice–distinctly not Fushiguro–rings out. “Come in.”

It’s Megumi.

You push open the door and the warm light of the setting sun fills your vision: floor to ceiling glass windows, the largest living room you’ve seen in Tokyo yet and a wall-mounted screen of the biggest TV you’ve seen ever depicting a split-screen game of Kirby beating the shit out of Ryu from Streetfighter going ham.

Where the fuck does Fushiguro get his money from?

You had been happy at the sound of ¥XX,000,000 but seeing the wealth is much different than merely hearing about it. The joke he made at the interview – “Say, how big of a concern would you say that (the legality of the money) is for you?” – is beginning to feel less like a joke and more like an omen that your money blinded eyes had missed!

Who jokes like that?

You had even googled Fushiguro online but had found no mention of any rich man with that last name!

Well, that wasn’t true, but the photo that had come up was definitely not the Fushiguro you knew. Some professor who lived randomly in Hokkaido. No one who could plausibly match the scale of the wealth you’re seeing and the name ‘Fushiguro’ had shown up with your research.

You’re apprehensive, but you’ve already walked into the mouth of the tiger. Might as well wander further in. Or however the saying goes.

Was that even a saying?

“Hello,” you slip off your heels, soles crying with relief at the action, and greet Megumi. “Is Fushiguro in?”

Megumi turns around, blinking in acknowledgment of your presence. “Dad…? Ah, he did say you were stopping by. He’s in his office upstairs.”

Up…stairs?

Stairs? In Tokyo?

Comically, you slowly turn to see the wooden spiral staircase that leads to a partial second floor that overlooks the massive downstairs open-space living room and kitchen area you’re in.

“Ack-!” A strangled cry catches your attention as some explosion unfurls on the screen in the corner of your eye.

It’s at this moment that you realise another teenager you know is sitting cross-legged next to Megumi. Tongue sticking out of his mouth in extreme concentration, Itadori’s slamming his thumbs onto the controller.

Your gaze pans to the screen.

“Who’s winning?”

The Kirby is clearly wiping the floor with Ryu.

You were a little surprised that Itadori was better at videogames then Megumi bu-

“Me, of course,” Megumi scoffs, haughtily, stopping your train of thought.

Megumi is Kirby?

You flick back to Megumi’s spiky hair and cold demeanour. Itadori’s sunshine smile. The cute, round and pink Kirby. The macho buff Ryu.

Maybe it does make more sense that Itadori would play a manly-masculine figure like Ryu.

Megumi as Kirby though?

Feeling like your characterisation of him has been momentarily subverted, you can only respond with an empty-headed “ah,” before you pad up the spiral staircase to find the office.

Fushiguro is engrossed on his laptop, an annoyed expression on his face, when you knock.

He skips the pleasantries, not even acknowledging that you’re fifteen minutes early, despite the fact you had literally hauled ass across Tokyo to get here without a car and during the 5PM off-work rush, and gets to it.

“I need you to do something for me,” he sighs, leaning back and pinching his brow. He directs a palm to the chair in front of him, so you naturally take a seat.

You slide a hand into your tote and pull out a small notepad, ready to take notes. “Yes?”

Fushiguro rubs his chin. “I need you to… silence someone for me.”

Your stomach drops.

A beat passes.

You clear your throat. You hadn’t exactly been clear about your employable services, and this… coupled with the wealth and mysteriousness that he’s been engaging… “What, exactly, do you mean by silence?”

Your voice sounds a little pinched. Anyone would in this situation.

He chuckles. That feels like a death knell.

“Literally.” There’s a roaring sound in your head. A million versions of tiny yous scream in panic around your mental scape, upending neurons and dragging their tiny nano-nails down your mycelium-wrapped cells. “There’s this woman that… I’ve had some history with, and she’s been yapping some falsities about me. Shut her up for me.”

You feel like an employed thug.

Shut her up.

Your mental image of yourself shifts from your beautiful, well-put together, but admittedly tired looking body to a broad shouldered, beefy moustached henchman. One wearing a wife-beater and yups ‘yes, boss!’ at every remark.

You look down at your hands. These hands weren’t built for tying the ropes around wailing victims in warehouses! These hands were built for typing on keyboards, gripping iced drinks, and spending hours writing on paper!

The image of the moustached henchman you comes to mind again.

You shudder.

A premonition, perhaps.

“You’ll need to be a little clearer. What do you mean by history with? Who is this woman? What falsities? And what do you mean by shut her up?” The last part comes out sounding near desperate.

Fushiguro looks to the side. At the time, you hadn’t known it, but looking back at it… that was a tell-tale mark that he was embarrassed. Maybe even he hadn’t anticipated that your first job from him was for this.

After a couple more minutes of what could only be described as ‘prodding’, you finally extract the situation from Fushiguro. The most painful prodding of your life. You had never known a client requesting help to be so difficult. Usually, they wanted to provide more details for you to get rid of the problem! None of this looking away, humming, twiddling thumb business.

It’s a hook-up. He’s telling you to get a hook-up to stop pestering him and spreading information about him. The same speechless feeling you had when you had seen the casual display of wealth from his house comes back again.

Does a hook-up really need to be silenced? Is blocking her not enough?

You scratch out that last thought. With your newest data on Fushiguro’s personality (this face-to-face meeting so far) it was unlikely he had her number to begin with.

Whatever.

For the sake of that ¥XX,000,000 you’ll just deal.

“Do.. do you remember her name?”

Trying to get helpful information out of Fushiguro feels like trying to cradle a wiggling cat.

“Nah.” He tosses a grape into his mouth, biting down with a crunch. The bowl of grapes had been produced out of nowhere it seems, suddenly spawning into his hand as he leisurely munches away. With every crunch of the fruit under his pearly-whites, you can hear the number of hours you’ll have to spend searching for this woman ticking up.

Had you really graduated law school for this…

“Do you remember what she looked like?”

He leans back in his office chair at a terrifying angle, thumbing at the scar at his lip absentmindedly. You feel a little ray of hope. He hmms. A sign of him thinking, surely-

“Blonde.”

A couple seconds go by before you realise that’s all the information he’s got (or willing to give you).

You know better than to ask if she had long hair or short. With how hard he had to dig in there – by ‘there’, you mean his head, of course – you were probably lucky to even get blonde from the empty expanse in the end.

You pitied the woman he had so heartlessly forgotten.

Clearly she couldn’t let him go if she was still yapping information, fake or not, about him.

“How long ago was this?”

He pulls up his calendar on his computer, squinting.

“Not sure. Could be a week. Two weeks. Three. A month.”

I can’t believe this man!

You sigh, deciding to put your foot down. This is the first task from him, and you’re fearful that this is going to let a scary precedent build.

“Sir, you do know I’m not a private investigator, right? You might be better off hiring an actual P.I for this.”

Fushiguro narrows his eyes like a cat, the edges of his lips flicking up.

He opens his mouth. A stream of unidentifiable numbers falls out, injecting energy into your brain with every increased digit.

“….!@#(% yen.”

That’s all he says, and that’s all it takes for your bending spine to crack straight. The countless hours calculated to do this job vanish in lieu of a big plastic beam on your face.

“Blonde, you said?” 

Walking past the living room, head full of thoughts, you almost smack straight into another kid. It’s a girl with an adorable bob and flower-clipped into her fringe. She’s wearing the same middle-school uniform as them. Probably another one of Megumi’s playmates.

“Oh- I’m sorry,” you apologise, ceasing from your wailing mental whirlpool of all the hours you’ll have to plug to find this mysterious blonde hook-up.

She stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

You hadn’t bumped into her that hard, had you?

“It’s… okay,” she says, eyes and voice dazed.

“Nobara- where are you?!”

Her docile appearance vanishes as she flares up.

“Shut up, Itadori! You’re the one who can’t even play my Ryu right!”

“You know I main Samus!” Itadori yips back. There’s some hesitancy before he speaks again. “Because she looks good.”  

“You’re so disgusting!” Nobara plants her hands on her hips, calling towards the couch area. From this angle, the tall back of the couch masks the two kids sitting on the carpet. Turning back to you, her ferocious demeanour melts away and now you’re the one dazed at how fast her face changed. She’s too adept. “You’re so pretty. Are you Megumi’s new mom?”

The minor squabbling in the living room fades a little in your ears, along with some colour in your face.

Huh? Megumi’s… mom?

!!!!

Your ears feel like they’re on fire.

How could- wha-

No!!!

“No!!! I just work for Fushiguro!” You rush to clarify, tongue nearly tripping over itself. “I definitely am not Megumi’s new mom! I barely know him!”

She looks unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”

As serious as you can, you set your hands on her tiny shoulders and affix her with a solemn expression. “Serious.”

She purses her lips. “Fine.” A pause. A sly expression. “Are you single?”

“…Pardon?”

Her eyes gleam. “Do you like women?”

“E- Eh?”

 “Nobara, knock it off. You’ll scare her, and she just works for my dad.” It’s Megumi who calls out this time from the living room.

The tiny girl deflates. Her hand grips your pinky finger and shakes it coyingly. “If you’re into women, I know an older girl who I think you should meet. You’re so pretty it’d be a waste not to have you in my life somehow, you know.“

You’re amused that this Nobara girl is trying to matchmake you, having literally just met you a second ago.

“She’s graduated and working already! There’s no way you can pair her with Saori! Saori’s only in high school!” Itadori protests, his voice coming through amidst the Supersmash Bro’s game effects from the impressive speakers.

His cruel reminder of your age shoots you through the heart, but he’s right. You have to agree with him. You can’t have Nobara trying to pair you with a high school student. Hell, even a university student would feel a little weird to you.

It’s less about the age and the difference in maturity from life stages.

“That’s very sweet of you,” you smile, eyes curving, “but I’m afraid I’ll have to say no.”

Nobara shakes her head fast. “Don’t be afraid! Be brave! Say yes!”

This time you laugh and pat her head. “Bye kid, have fun with Megumi and his friend.”

You’re too petty to let Itadori know that you remember his name.

Hmph. That’s what he gets.

…why are you one-sidedly beefing a middle schooler…

As you close the front door and wait for the lift, you can hear the tail end of the trio gossiping about you.

“…so pretty.” That’s Nobara.

“…assistant…” Megumi. You weren't an assistant though.

“…too old for Saori.” That was for sure Itadori.

The last bit makes your eye twitch, but you let it go. Sexual orientation questions aside, high school is way too young for you.

--

Two nights (sort-of) later, you’re hunched over your desk at home when you find her.

Your bangs are pinned back from your face by a fluffy hairband and you’re sporting a sheet mask that you most likely should’ve peeled off ten minutes ago. The only lights in your room is the computer screen (nightshift mode, of course) and the soft penguin night-lamp on your bedside table.

From the hours you’ve spent searching for her (thank goodness your time at your shitty workplace was over, so you didn’t have to be up early tomorrow), you’d long kicked off your fluffy slippers and hitched a leg onto your chair.

Now finally, unlike the four other false leads you had fruitlessly leapt at and had to let go – wasting precious hours – you’re sure that this is the girl.

Yumi Tsukumo.

Blonde. Hooked-up with Fushiguro at her house (the fact that they had hooked up at hers and not Fushiguro’s place isn’t surprising given what little interaction you’ve had about his careless appearing self).

And she was for sure spreading some crazy falsities.

You weren’t exactly sure how Fushiguro had found out. Maybe she had spoken to someone, and it had slowly spread back to him, but judging off her blog alone…

You whistled low.

Small dick? Scroll scroll scroll.

Unimpressive stamina? Scroll scroll scroll scroll.

Rolled over after? You slam your dinky plastic mouse on your mousepad.

Were these actually falsities?

You peel off your sheet mask and trash it decisively. Vindication!!!

Then a reminder that he’s paying you (with suspicious money) and you probably shouldn’t be rejoicing in this pings in your head, and you deflate. But then the pile of empty energy drinks on your desk attracts your attention and you decide to rejoice anyway.  

For all that work just to find this woman and the 2% of help he provided you, maybe you can be exultant for juuuust a couple minutes.

You scroll a little longer on her blog, admittedly some schadenfreude at work, but her privacy settings on all of her her social media has messages turned off. The only way to contact her is most likely in person.

You scrub her digital footprint for her address, a weird expression of uncomfortability on your face. This is your job now.

Now that you have her full government name, it’s significantly easier to find where she works. Honestly, maybe you should be a private investigator.

Satisfied, you note down the address and name onto your notepad and head to your bathroom to brush your teeth, pointedly ignoring the first rays of sunlight beginning to leak through your thin curtains. That was what your sleeping mask was for.

-

It feels a bit stalker-ish to show up at her apartment door, so you settle for appearing at her workplace. It’s a local coffee shop that you’ve never been to, but it’s the kind of place you’d go on a weekend with your friends – all rustic looking and calm.

You cast a glance, longingly, at the chalkboard sign on the street advertising some kind of strawberry shortcake. After what you’re about to do, there’s no way you can come back here anytime soon.

It’s hard to imagine that someone with Yumi Tsukumo’s online footprint works at a cute place like this, so you’re crossing your fingers and hoping you hadn’t gotten the location wrong.

You check your notepad again. You check the maps app on your phone.

Okay… brace.

Dressed in a pantsuit, looking as professional as you can for this, and holding a briefcase that feels red-hot in your hand, you step into the café.

You recognise Tsukumo instantly from her selfies online. The café’s empty, and she’s leaning back on the counter tapping away on her phone. Her jaw mechanically and robotically jolts up and down as she gnashes on what can only be gum.

She looks up at you and sets her phone down, dragging herself to the cashier with a bored expression affixed to her face. The entire café is empty. It’s an odd hour to come.

“What can I get you?”

“Are you Yumi Tsukumo?” You ask politely, nails digging into the briefcase even more.

She raises an eyebrow, the gnashing jaw halts. “Yea, can I help you?”

You’re silent when you serve her a formal cease and desist letter.

Her mouth parts as she takes a moment to read it. You can tell the exact moment when she stumbles onto Fushiguro’s name because her eyes light up in jubilation.

“Oh my god, Toji sent you specially? He remembers me!” She cries out, all excitedly, eyes still scanning the page. “Flowers, chocol…”

You don’t say anything.

Her eyes drag onto the next part and she freezes. The gleeful emotion morphs into confusion and then anger. She slams the paper onto the counter, hand snatching for a coffee cup slated for delivery that no one had collected yet and throws it all over you – outraged.

You really wish you worn a more waterproof shirt instead of one that absorbed coffee so well.

---

next chapter link (to be added)

(probably how Itadori ended up playing Nobara's Ryu instead of his usual main)Nobara: Itadori, why do you like playing Samus so much anyway? Megumi (already knows): ... Itadori: BECAUSE SHE'S TALL AND HAS A NICE BUTT! Nobara: EW! THAT IS UNACCEPTABLE REASONING!

༄ A/N - Please let me know if you think its funny... too long too short... everything... open to all criticism QQ hehe i didn't even think ab making a tag list but more people than expected asked for one so... here! tq for the unexpected support 🙇🙇

i am more active on ao3 so sub there if u guys want email updates etc ~~

༄ taglist - @ejwrsblog @twinky-wink @corvusmorte @gators-aid @theshortmuffin07

[carionto]

Hyperbrake Racing

Everything in Human ships has a manual override. They love automating all processes and reduce any workload to nothing, but also have this compulsive need to be able to take direct control if so desired.

They also have emergency off switches for everything. Yes, including life support. Don't ask, you'll just get a variant of:

"But What If!?"

Obviously, this applies to things you should never under any circumstances shut down preemptively, such as a Hyperspace Jump.

The earliest space-faring civilizations quickly discovered that if a Hyperdrive has a power interruption even for a nano-second your atoms will get dispersed across a few light months. This is why all Hyperdrives have an internal chargeable uninterruptible power supply unit.

Humanity, however, did not allow "Not having any reason whatsoever" to stop them from figuring out a way. Utilizing their ridiculous quantum computer speed and the ability of their fusion reactors to charge a Hyperdrive mid-jump, and with an injection of a disgusting few million lines of hack code that manipulate all related pieces of hardware in just the most nauseating sequences, they created the Hyperbrake.

Also, not a metaphor - braking literally causes Humans to feel nauseous, sometimes throw up, rarely even pass out. Not a single volunteer crew member aboard joint vessels from any of the other Coalition species has dared to "test" what happens to them.

As with nearly all things Humans come across or invent, they will find a use for it should one not occur normally.

_____________________

Near Neptune

Daniel, Samantha, and Nicholas Schreier were three siblings ages 17, 19, and 20, respectively. Today they had "borrowed" their dad's General FordStar mark 980-MZ HaulerHound, a civilian grade transport typically used by small business owners. Dad, however, was an enthusiast, and had modified the "Hound Dog", as he calls it, with a military grade reactor and computer core. He's always been that guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who knows a guy who can get the thing legally enough.

There is a nearby research station that the kids often visit due to their mom working there, but today she was not. Instead, what they are doing, is racing against each other to set the best record. Well, technically the opposite of racing - coming to a halt.

Using the Hyperbrake, they are competing to see who can stop the closest to the stations outer point-defense range without entering it or you automatically lose. After Samantha's turn, they were suddenly contacted by the station. It was Yakovskii, one of mom's colleagues and a frequent guest at dad's barbecues, so they were on sorta good terms. Not by the tone voice coming through the comms rights now though:

"What in the Hell are you thinking!? At first I thought you were just messing around and accidentally did that, but TWICE now!?! I checked the trajectory, if you had stopped a half-second later, you would've ended up mere meters from Neptune's upper atmosphere! Did you account for the possible sudden gravitational pull? Can you maneuver that lumbering ship fast enough to not get pulled down? Not to mention Hyperbraking severely impairs your cognitive abilities for a moment? A moment that you need to be clearheaded for or risk DEATH!?!"

The three siblings could only hang their heads in shame and mutter out some weak apologies. After a moment of silence and reflection, Yakovskii speaks in a warmer tone:

*sigh* "Look, I understand it's a fancy new toy and you want to see what you can do. I get it, I really do. Me and my brother used to play vertical hockey the first time we got our hands on a surplus gravity field generator. But we first figured out how to make sure we didn't break our bones in case it failed. Seriously, never forget to consider your own safety first before you try out new things in a peaceful environment. You're not being chased by pirates or trying to avoid the law or whatever.

Take your time, pick a starting position that's further away and keeps Neptune and any of its moons to the side of the station, then aim for an area of space that only has the outer range of the defenses and empty space ahead from your point of view. And please set the regular Hyperjump destination within Sol, don't just pick a random place. The Hyperbrake sometimes loops in on itself and never executes the brake and can only be reset once out of Hyperspace. You don't want to get stuck in a pointless jump for hours do you?"

After this admonishment, the siblings apologized more energetically and took his advice to heart. They spent the next hour competing until all three were down to single meter differences and kinda got bored, so they docked at the station and hung out with the off-duty staff, played some poker, but then dad barged in and dragged them all home. They were not invited to the barbecue gatherings for two weeks, but only because mom told him to. Personally he was excited about all the data his kids had unknowingly given him with all their jumping and braking, a real stress test for his beautiful Hound Dog.

[originalaccountname]

In your Murase Lives AU (given what you’ve posted lately about him and N), even if he was probably bedridden during the rest of SB, how do you think Murase reacted to his brother, who he contacted to try getting help against Verlaine, actively hurting Chuuya and making the situation go from bad to apocalyptic in the end?

I've talked a little about it forever ago, but I think Murase should have had enough information to know something was up with N, and maybe even with Chuuya. He could have been missing one piece of evidence, refused to think it through, or tried to reason it was a thing of the past (much like he was doing himself).

The logic comes from two facts: N was the one to give Murase a job near the original Arahabaki lab, and N and Murase were still talking during the events of SB.

Chuuya deduced that Murase's brother must have been a scientist working on project Arahabaki from knowing this brother was the one to get Murase a job as a security guard for a high-security research lab near what would become Suribachi city, and this brother having been dead on paper for 14 years. From Murase's point of view, his researcher brother found him a job where he worked, and one day, that place blew up in a monumental way. N survived, the war ended, and he started working at a different lab. It might have been at that point that N's life was erased, if it wasn't already the case.

When Verlaine showed up, Murase called N and said that things were happening "exactly as N had said". N had warned Murase of a(nother) gravity manipulator appearing soon, but didn't tell him who he was to Chuuya. The fact that Murase said it was "another one!" about Verlaine's ability does mean he knew about Chuuya's powers, just not the how and why since he asked who Verlaine was to Chuuya.

The probable situation is that the brothers kept in touch, and Murase, who started keeping an eye on the overpowered member of the Sheep gang (for fear of him ending up in the wrong place), talked about him to N. N then kept his mouth shut about the boy, while at some point mentioning Verlaine's existence. Verlaine did know about the brothers since he made the effort to wiretap Murase's phone to find N, so it's reasonable that N knew about Verlaine's intentions in turn.

Maybe Murase could have connected the dots between Chuuya's ability, the Suribachi incident, the fact this boy was living in that same place, and the fact his brother's work was so secret it required him to kill a child to "protect" it. Maybe he had an inkling. Or maybe he never questioned it! That's up for debate.

That got away from me, but to actually answer your question: I think that would be a difficult grieving process. I think he'd go through denial and bargaining phases. I think he'd try to reconcile his own crimes made while trying to survive with what N is doing, but be met with N's utter lack of remorse and doing the same things again without the apocalyptic context of a war.

That's also how we end up with my ADA!Chuuya AU, because after all that, I'm sure he'd double down on dragging Chuuya out of the mafia to get a better life in the light. He'd be carrying double the guilt. I chose to make Chuuya accept it after the DHC, but there's a version out there where Murase never managed to drag him out but is still around, or one where he played his cards right to force Chuuya out of there by any (mostly legal) means necessary.

[squibflower]

More on Sigma since yall ate up the last post tysm guys (*´꒳`*)

Anyways as I was saying Sigma has done some shit that proves he’s not a UwU baby and here I’ll explain to you more. 

Sigma, unlike the rest of the DOA doesn’t want to just jump to violence, that’s not his thing since he knows his ability really isn’t meant for combat. Though he will still do it as seen multiple times. It also never once says he regret hurting/killing multiple innocent civilians. “Oh but Dazai said he didn’t see Sigma as a terrorist at all 🥺🥺 therefore-“ nope. Shut up 😍. Compared to Gogol and Fyodor, Sigma is not a terrorist. He hasn’t done nearly as much as they have, but he still is. Now I’d like to bring attention to the fact that the casino is actually Sigma’s REWARD for the use of his skill. Therefore, due to his part being over in the plan as Dazai said, he had no reason to fight on the frontlines. Yet he still did it to protect the casino, which was being used for terrorism and stuff. Hmmmm…. If he was an UwU innocent baby why would he do this? It’s because he’s not please shut up I’m actually losing in from people acting like that. Just note this past section is only from the first few pages of the 18th novel. We’re no where near close to being done!! Remember when The hunting dogs asked him to shut down that casino? Here is his reaction to that:

I personally don’t think this is how any UwU baby would act… idk just my thoughts. He literally yelled at them, didn’t even try to politely explain why he wouldn’t do that he just told them to fuck off. Now we have Tachihara and Teruko walking along just doing their job (stop hating Teruko for doing her job it makes me so mad) and just getting stabbed by a random civilian. Here we see Sigma, literally making stuff up as he’s using people as literal weapons whilst knowing damn well you’re not supposed to do that. He literally uses the fact that as police Teruko and Tachihara can’t hurt them as a way of ENCOURAGING people to harm literal government figures. He had no hesitation to do that to people, unlike when he hesitated to use the plane on the casino, showing that at this point he is valuing a CASINO over HUMAN LIVES (B-but the casino is his home 🥺, ok and? Would you manipulate innocent people into literal weapons to protect your house? I don’t think so) It’s important to note that this is the only thing Sigma really owns, so he is defending it in a state of panic. It still gives him no right to do such things though. No I’m not trying to make Sigma sound like a bad person he’s my favorite bad character and it physically hurts to see all the mischaracterization I cry myself to sleep bc ppl r like this. As Fyodor said: “You won’t find a scarier thing in the world than a common man who is desperate” and we know that bc sigma said “If it’s for the casino I’ll do anything” here’s a little reminder:

Now yeah he was having a little breakdown about it, like who wouldn’t. Can someone not show emotion without being called UwU soft? Seriously? If you were in that situation I bet you’d want to spring outta that room crying too. And yet here we are, he’s still using on and you know how? He’s shooting at Teruko with big ass guns. I don’t think owning those is legal in the slightest. 

(Pardon the fact its in Russian I got this off of Pinterest) 

This is not legal. Firing these is not legal. And here is the most important part. The sonic gun and this is gonna be in bold bc it’s one of my leading points He showed no hesitation to kill Teruko in one of the most painful ways for a hunting dog to be killed. He forced her to puncture her eardrums as a last result of survival, as he says “This is all apart of the plan” showing that he planed ahead of time to try and kill a hunting dog. This is not something someone who is innocent would do in the slightest. He is well prepared to kill someone without regret. He decided to save a casino instead of his self, and attempted to take Teruko down with him. 

And then we get to the part when he gets saved by Atsushi. He says he didn’t mean to stab the chief. Ok fine he didn’t mean to do that, but he still did it even if he regretted it. Can people not show regret for their actions? Goddamn ok. Also the way he spoke to Gogol- that’s not innocent at all he was downright hating on him. “I hate dealing with this decay member the most” bro even was like: Why didn’t you die man. In no way in his speech does he act soft at all I can’t see how you people got that. Maybe it was from his confused reaction? Or something. And just know this it only the 18th novel I’ve covered so far. I’ll do more in a later part :3 but anyways thanks for reading this I hope both sides of ur pillow are cold and I hope this helped you understand sigma better!! 

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

why do the people who age up fictional characters get hate but the writers who are legal and share smut with real life minors dont get any hate at all

Hi Anon, this is going to go on for a while. Sorry, sorta.

I'm going to answer this as best I can and I hope you find some closure or at the very least, some part of something you were looking for.

The long and short of it is, I don't know.

I think maybe because the stuff on the internet is so much more easily accessible is one of the main reasons (we) fanfic writers are such direct targets. Sure, I know books are everywhere, too. Though, don't stores card for stuff like that? I haven't purchased a paper copy of anything for so long that I don't know what the protocol is. And I look well over 18+ so maybe they just don't bother carding people who look it.

There are plenty of books out there that are not appropriate for anyone under the age of 18. Possibly - depending on one's beliefs - for people over the age of 18.

That's not for me to decide, though.

What I DO MAKE SURE TO DO is label each piece of writing I do that is not for a younger audience and put in my bio that what I write is not for the consumption of anyone under 18. I believe my exact words were "This shit show is 18+. You've been warned." Something like that.

"18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 18+"

I put a second 18+ in case the first one was missed.

I think it's just a matter of access. The internet is, for all intents and purposes, free, once you have an opening to it you can get damn near anything you really want to see on it without parental consent. Unless you have parents who have put a block on this dumpster fire. In which case, you should make a mental note to thank them when you're grown and see just what the Christ is going on out here sometimes, lol. If you're in a bookstore and you want to buy a copy of Playboy, you're going to be shut down from your attempt if you're ... oh, say 15? 16? Either that or heavily carded/ID'd. And if you don't provide verifiable proof of your age, they should turn you away.

I'm not saying that because this stuff is so easy to get to that it's ok by any means for any minor to read. I wish that everyone who isn't of legal age (here or wherever they reside) would heed the warnings. They're there for a reason.

Now, I'm going to touch on aging up characters. I'm guilty of not always putting that I aged up whoever I was writing about if they needed to be. But THEY'RE FAKE. They're lines. They're art. They're paper, basically. Ink and paper. So I don't understand how someone can go from blasting an actual pedo to getting on here and saying that fanfic writers are just as bad. It pisses me off, if I'm being honest. The comparison is quite a stretch, I think. Because while I am not that faithful about documenting that I aged up characters, in my head, they're no younger than 21-40. And that's probably why I don't say I am aging them up because I just don't see them as minors. I've noticed that male characters in anime often look considerably older than they are. Maybe that's because they're the hero of the day or whatever. And I don't write about female characters. Not because I hate them, but I really just don't have any interest in doing that.

The vast majority of us all make it a point to say that the character(s) we write about are of legal age to partake in such ... activities. I don't know. I went through a phase where I felt like absolute shit about myself because of some of the stuff I read about people (on HERE - other writers) comparing someone who abuses an actual minor to a writer that talks about getting down and dirty with a 17 yr old superhero (again, they don't exist). But when I came to the conclusion (very shortly after reading those opinions) that I would never never never ever ever ever do anything so fucking disgusting, I got over it.

There are miles between reality and fiction. If someone else can't separate the two, maybe they're the ones who need the help?

The whole premise of that world, the anime world, is the impossible. Is it not? And I'm not saying in any capacity is it ok to look at someone and assume just because they look older that it must be ok to engage with them. IT'S NOT.

I hope this offered you some clarity, Anon. And I apologize for going off. I guess your question was a good one to make me think so much.

~ S

[imaginedreamwrite]

Lion’s Den: Part 7

Steely grey eyes framed by thick, dark lashes that matched the inky black hair cut close to his scalp, and a speckle of facial hair dusting his chin and cheeks had been the focal point that you had been transfixed by. When it had been time to move your attention, you had gazed at his crooked nose that was a byproduct of a bad break that had never been fixed.

“Bronx,” you addressed the alpha that had been assigned to be your keeper, the nickname a placeholder for the legal name he had not given to you, “I need to leave.”

“You can’t leave.” The answer was the same, the typical response from a man who was meant to keep you locked down tight for your safety. “Bosses orders.”

“Queens,” you directed your attention to the other alpha, the other guard that had been by your side nearly every moment of the day, “can you be reasonable?”

The other alpha was much like Bronx in the manner of his appearance, with short-cropped hair and lighter eyes that were neither blue nor green, an odd mix akin to stork clouds thick and heavy with rain. His nose was straighter than Bronx’s, though there was a scar that had run across the bridge near his nostrils that was healed and fading. He stood shorter than Bronx, a few inches of difference between the two however he was no less intimidating in size or broad width.

And yet, both were smaller than Steve and Bucky. Both alphas who were meant to be guarding you were still not as tall or broad as the two alphas that had claimed you.

“You think we wanna be on the side of their anger?”

Queens scoffed and rolled his shoulders back, a glimmer of pain surging through him as his right shoulder had dropped back down. “You’re supposed to sit tight-“

“Am I an animal? Do I look like a puppy on a leash?” You squared your shoulders and puffed your chest, mirroring the stance they had taken as your teeth ground together. “Sit tight?”

“Mr. Barnes and Mr. Rogers-“ Bronx had started speaking, firing a single and weaponized glare toward Queens that had the smaller of the two clamping his mouth shut as the hierarchy of alphas was established.

“I don’t give a damn if they’re fucking on the moon, I am losing my damn mind! I have been holed up here for longer than I should have been-“ you raised a protest and grit your teeth, watching the two alphas become physically distended with the manner of which you were speaking to them, and the knowledge that if they should talk back to you, they would face the ire of their bosses.

“What do you want?” Queens had slid his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow, attempting to soothe you and your rising, tumultuous emotions.

“I want to leave, Queens! I want to go outside and feel natural light and be able to talk to people without having two gargantuan watching me all the time!” The way you had handled yourself and the rising aggression in your voice had been more than warranted. It was innate and reasonable, that you were feeling overwhelmed and passive-aggressive about the situation you were in.

“Bosses said-“ Bronx had started once more, digging in his heels when you felt the bubbling overflow of your sharp cry, the first strike of the chisel against stone, carving out your loneliness and desperation.

“I hate this,” your bottom lip trembled and you slid your feet back on the hardwood floors, your arms snaking around your middle, “I’m so God-damned overwhelmed and no one is telling me anything! I’m stuck here in this place like I have no option to leave because I don’t.”

A beat of stale silence had passed, a moment of brief and uneventful quietude that had only featured one distinct sound. You had tightened your grip on yourself, your fingers twisting the material of your shirt in tight coils as you drew your attention away from Bronx and Queens, casting your gaze on the flawless windows to your left.

The city looked beautiful from this height and yet you couldn’t allow yourself to wander too close to the glass to gaze out at the city below, the fear of heights and of falling to your doom had been an ever-present thought, even if the spectacular view of the sunsets and city skyline beckoned you to.

“Fuck,” Bronx cursed under his breath, his steely grey eyes speculating about you as you hugged yourself, as you had silently stewed in your misery, “I’m not getting my ass kicked because of you.”

You had flit your gaze back toward him ready to remark with a snarky reply when he had shoved his hand into his pocket and yanked out his phone. He had tapped quickly on the device, holding it against his ear as the phone rang loud enough for you to hear, though you were unsure of who he was possibly speaking to.

“You need something? Chocolate? A bottle of wine?” Queens had suggested lightly; comically soft.

“What?” Your eyebrows had furrowed and your lip had continued trembling despite the few tears that had fallen and slipped down your cheeks being the only ones.

“Food..?” Queens motioned to the kitchen behind them with his thumb, his odd contrast between intimidating and aloof goofiness unconventional. “Do you…want some..?”

“I want to go out.” You had mirrored your previous statement with enunciation. “I am overwhelmed and I want to have a moment of peace-“

“We’re leaving.” Bronx had cut you off, he had ended the back and forth between you and Queens with a quick clap to Queen’s shoulder as he started dragging him toward the door. “Miss L/N, if you would please follow us-“

“What is going on?” You followed tentatively, unsure of what had happened in the span of a phone call, curious about what quick change could have made your desire to leave become a reality. “What the hell changed in a single phone call?”

“We’re going out,” Bronx answered shortly, opening the door for you to step out, with him stepping behind you. “Didn’t you want to go out?”

“I wanted to leave,” you countered and reached up toward the collar, brushing your fingertips against the velour, “I don’t want to feel like a prisoner.”

“We’re leaving now, you’re going out.” Queen’s offered the obvious as he stepped onto the elevator and you hesitantly followed after him.

“Okay..? But now I’m even more confused. I was banned from leaving..?” You glanced from Bronx to Queens, the two alphas caging you in between them as the elevator started descending, and with each floor, it had passed, your question had remained unanswered.

You were left in the dark by the sudden emergence from the penthouse you were made to stay in, made to follow them as they had stepped off the elevator and escorted you through the lobby. As the door had been opened by another alpha in a suit, Queens had angled himself to your right, shielding you entirely from view.

“Get inside.” Bronx had instructed less than pleasant, with the kind of desperate urgency that made you listen without argument.

You had climbed inside the SUV and had moved to the driver’s side, firstly noting the part of the door where the lock should have been was flush with the seamless leather. There was no conceivable lock that you could access and even the handle itself was nearly indistinguishable.

“If someone tries to break the window and open the door, it’s impossible.” Queens had spoken from the front, looking back at you as he shifted in the passenger’s seat, leaning to the left to be able to see you. “One of the many safety measures-“

“I couldn’t get out.” You countered side-eyeing Bronx. “I mean I couldn’t possibly-“

The steely eyes alpha had leaned over and reached for the handle, fingers picking at a small latch and yanking, the handle becoming more visible against the leather side. When he had shown you the handle, he had pressed it in to hide it once more than leaned back against his seat.

You had glanced out the window at the passing city scenery, keeping your hands folded in your lap as the driver had navigated the busy city. The vehicle was moving throughout the city, idle talk between Queens and the driver the only conversation carried in the vehicle as you watched the streets in passing, your mind wandering to the animosity you had suffered at the hands of your sister and her mate.

It was a motion that had created a cavernous divide between you and her, one that seemed to be permanent and unable to be patched or bridged over. She had chosen an alpha who was no better for her than heroin was to an addict, the resulting high and fixed need was present with both. Your sister was addicted to him, she was unable to lose him; unwilling to choose someone over her mate. Not even you, had mattered, not in comparison to Marcus and his vile, toxic grasp on her. She was chained to him, barred from the rest of the world by his mark and his claim, destined to bring her to ruin through unyielding possession for the sake of having someone to screw.

“There are too many people in the world like Marcus,” Bronx had broken the silence between you two, his tone of voice oddly gently as he spoke and drew your attention away from the window toward him, “too many alphas who have twisted what it means to be a good alpha and not just because you were born into it.”

You hadn’t commented on his statement, choosing to remain silent. Instead, you had rest your hand against your stomach and pressed lightly, both the bruises and the pain from Marcus’ attack had faded and dissipated, and there was minimal bruising around your neck which had been covered by the collar. It was as if the entire event had been something of a fever dream and you were now waking to the aftermath with confusion and wonderment about how you had gotten here.

“We’re here.” The driver had announced when the vehicle had pulled up to a curb in front of a brick and mortar corner building with sleek and eclectic fairy-lights hanging above bistro sets arranged in the designated patio section outside the main entrance.

“There’s no one here.” You commented while leaning forward and looking out the rear passengers' side window noting the lack of people outside on the patio, or inside the ethereal restaurant. “This is where we’re going?”

“Come on, Y/N. Don’t you trust us?” Queen’s had opened the door for Bronx to get out first, and after you had followed along, you were once again flanked and shielded as you were escorted toward the front door of the building, the eery quietude of the place was nearly chilling.

“You want me to answer that honestly?” You questioned as you stepped through the door, and been transported to a place that seemed so unfit for Manhattan and the concrete jungle of NYC.

The restaurant inside was beautiful and so full of life and greenery, the aesthetic of the dining experience seemed to be focused on nature outside of the big city. There were three living walls with thick and climbing ivy clinging to the wall in such great numbers that you could barely see the underlying structural wall beneath. The lights hanging above the tables were transfixed with hanging foliage and flowers that draped below the matching green fixtures they had hung too. There was an array of flowers somehow growing under a skylight and a wall, the pleasant and vibrant colours stealing your breath and your attention as you weaved in and out of tables to approach the breathtaking features.

When you approached, you had stretched out your hand and rested your fingertips against the soft petals, stroking the velvet beneath your thumb and index finger.

You had dropped your hand to your side when you heard the approach of footsteps, and the scent that had pilfered your senses was eagerly coiling around you like fine mist. Your heart had fluttered simultaneously with the butterflies in your stomach, a clear contrast between your sense of irritation with being locked in their penthouse.

“Sweetheart, you made it,” Bucky had stopped a few feet from you with his hands shoved into his pockets, drawing your attention from the living wall to himself.

You had turned your head and studied Bucky as he stood a few feet from you. The dark grey suit pants he had worn had drawn attention to the thickness of his thighs, continued through to the firm and broad build of his abdomen and chest that seemed so impeccable when tucked underneath a deep red shirt with the top few buttons undone, the sliver of one of his tattoos appearing beneath the collar under Steve’s mark on his neck.

“My jailers granted me temporary freedom.” You commented, reeling in your emotional and physical reaction to his scent and his appearance. “I think I only get an hour.”

“The collar looks good on you,” Bucky had chimed with praise as he trapped his bottom lip between his teeth and inhaled sharply, clearly just as transfixed by you as you were him.

“Do you give all your prisoners these? Or just the ones you wanna fuck?” You hissed at him as he approached with his lip trapped between his teeth, your irritation and reignited anger directed toward him had only grown when he laughed so lightly and airily.

“Come on, honey. You’re hungry — Steve and I want to talk to you.” Bucky had motioned to the space behind him with a tilt of his head and the boyish charm that seemed so out of place for a man like him.

“You tell me I can’t leave and then you bring me here and expect me to be complacent and happy to see you?” Your eyes narrowed as passed by him, only listening because you knew that he could have just as easily thrown you over his shoulder and been done with it.

“Seething anger or orgasmic bliss, wouldn’t change how God damn beautiful you are.” Bucky had followed behind you as you began walking, shamelessly flirting with you in such a casual manner despite your radiating vexation with him. “Isn’t she beautiful, Stevie? Firecracker omega-“

“Why am I here? Why did you bring me here when you told me that I wasn’t allowed to leave? What kind of bullshit is that?” Your anger had become fixated on Steve and his blue-green eyes, the colours shifting as he stared between you and Bucky, equally just as gorgeous as the latter.

“Why don’t you sit down-“

“I don’t want to sit down! I don’t want to do anything until you give me some kind of explanation why I can’t leave! Why I can’t go out and do things! Why can’t I start finding my place? Why would you think it would be okay to save my ass and then confine me to a cage like an animal! Do I look like a puppy to you?!” You were unleashing every ounce of unbridled rage upon them as if they weren’t the most dangerous men in the city, as if they hadn’t owned nearly everything and everyone in some manner. You were screaming at them as if they weren’t two of the most intimidating and powerful alphas you had come across.

“You would make a cute puppy. Or a bunny. Some little fuzzy ears and a soft little cottontail plug-“ Bucky had slipped past you, narrowly missing your balled fist flying toward his shoulder, and yet you had some kind of vindication when he had approached Steve and was immediately grasped around the throat.

“You’re always such a fucking brat, Buck. You can’t keep your mouth shut for five minutes.” Steve’s eyes darkened and his jaw had clenched in a fine line between lust and need for control.

“Thought you liked it wide open, Steve?” Bucky was unrelenting with his flirtations, his eyes drawn back toward you as he licked his lips. “Wouldn’t you like to see it? A little bunny trapped between wolves?”

“Sit down before I fuck you stupid.” Steve had affectionately growled deep in his throat as he let Bucky go before he looked your way and ran his fingers through his blonde hair.

“You’re right. And we’re sorry, we shouldn’t have constrained you to the house.” Steve had rolled his shoulders back, and in a moment had shifted back to the intimidating and imposing mafia boss he always had been. “You were there for your safety, doll.”

“My safety? Are you serious? I appreciate you giving me a place to stay after Marcus had…that was appreciated but then you tell me that I can’t leave, and you give me this collar. I know what the collar is, I know what the implications are but what the hell is going on?” You grit your teeth and looked back and forth between Bucky and Steve, both of them now revelling in the gravity of your anger and annoyance.

“Marcus had…arranged for you to be taken as some kind of payment. Six other omegas had been taken and sold on the black market, or something like it. Marcus had been in the talks with another alpha of another ‘family’ and had arranged-“

“He sold me out? Like I was nothing?”

“He put a target on your back and a large one. We’re in the process of finding out who he had talked to and what kind of threat is coming your way.” Steve had remained neutral in the manner of speaking, addressing you in the manner of professionalism if for no other reason than to combat the powerful anger rippling beneath that state of control.

“We should have told you earlier and we shouldn’t have restricted you from leaving the house. We overstepped our boundaries and we are sorry.”

“You’re damn right you overstepped your boundaries. I have a right to live without being trapped.” You huffed and crossed your arms over your chest, averting your eyes. “I’m going back to work. And I want to be able to come and go as I want. No restrictions.”

“Are you trying to negotiate?” Bucky questioned that flirtatiousness back in full force. “Cute little omega. Come closer and tell daddy everything you want-“

“Bucky, shut up.” Steve had once again cut him off, the warning growl as playful as it was charged with sexual tension.

“I wasn’t finished making demands.” You had squared your jaw as you shift your weight from foot to foot. “If you expect me to be in this relationship then I get to have some pull too.”

“Of course you do, baby. Sit down, order wine and some food. Tell us what you want.” Steve suggested, and you had only headed after a minute of silence, making a note to yourself to hold your ground.

[gotnofucks]

His Responsibility

Pairing: dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: When you’re pregnant and scared, Andy decides he will take the responsibility, whether you want it or not.

Words: 3.4k

Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, breeding kink, pregnancy, age gap (reader is in 20s), 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my slightly late entry for @just-one-ordinary-fangirl​ 1000 followers challenge. Congratulations Lucy, you beautiful, absolutely breathtaking soul. I love you so much! The prompt has been bolded.

The crook of your elbow still throbbed as you drove away from the labs, having just given a blood sample. Jacob was supposed to be with you but like every other time, he had bailed out. Seeing no other option, you changed your path and turned towards the Barber house, hoping to find answers there.

You hesitated a moment before getting out and ringing the bell, nervously twisting the hem of your t-shirt. Sweat and tears were threatening to spill over and you hastily blinked while wiping at your hairline, ringing the bell again. You straighten once the door was swung open, coming face to face with Andy Barber.

His mouth opened in surprise, eyes taking in your bothered appearance. Softly saying your name in question, he moved aside to let you in, frowning at you.

“Are you okay?” He asked, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to start bawling. Everything about your life was spiraling out of your control and you needed to talk before things went worse. Before you could speak however, you heard footsteps behind you and saw Jacob come down the stairs, looking outraged at seeing you in his house.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” He rudely snapped and your eyes narrowed. What had ever possessed you to date this bastard?

“Jacob!” Andy scolded, “that’s no way to talk to your girlfriend.”

You scoffed as Jacob rolled his eyes. You’d broken up nearly a month ago, and while he’d been desperate to have you back at first, now he only went about telling anyone who’d listen what a sanctimonious bitch you were.

“We broke up dad.” Jacob said. “What are you doing here? You didn’t really think I’ll take you back, did you?”

Your fingers curled into a fist, a sneer curling on your lips as you glared at him. You wouldn’t touch this piece of shit with a ten feet pole.

“Take me back? I broke up with you, asswipe.” You snapped. “And anyway, I am not here for you. I need to speak with Mr. Barber.”

Jacob’s eyes narrowed suspiciously while Andy’s frown deepened, his gaze questioningly fixed on you.

“What about?” Jacob asked, crossing his arms across his chest. You noted with wry amusement how pathetic he looked next to his father who was watching your interaction with displeasure. Andy and you and had always gotten along well, and even before you broke up, you often wondered how such a man raised a dick like Jacob.

“None of your fucking business. Mr. Barber, can we please talk?” You asked, addressing Andy. He motioned you towards the direction of his study and you made your way there, trying not to pay attention to Jacob’s protests as he and Andy argued. You sat in Andy’s study, wiping your sweaty hands on your pants. You were scared, angry and humiliated but Andy was your last hope.

He came in a couple minutes later, shutting the door after him and taking the seat across from you. Andy looked at you kindly, giving you a small smile that reminded you of how often he had sided with you over his son in previous arguments. You could talk to him. He would understand.

“Please, don’t judge me.” You pleaded and saw him roll his eyes. After everything that you knew happened to their family, Andy Barber is the last person who’d ever judge anyone.

“Don’t insult me by saying that.” He chided. “You can talk to me freely.”

You took a deep breath before reaching inside your bag and pulling out the pregnancy test. Two pink lines glared back at you, and once you passed it on to Andy, his eyes widened. He looked from the small stick to you, twice, blinking in surprise.

“Jacob?” He asked and you nodded.

You’d told him you missed your period last week and got a positive result but he neither answered your texts nor call you back. After three days of silence, you’d finally managed to get him to agree to accompany you for a blood test, but he had been a no show today as well.

“I don’t know what to do.” You admitted, shoulders slumping down in defeat. A baby didn’t fit any of your current plans and you were shit scared of how your parents would react. It didn’t help that the father of the baby didn’t look like someone who would help you shoulder the responsibility.

“Does he know?” Andy asked, rolling the stick in his hands. His voice had gone hard, but you knew it was mostly directed at his careless son than you.

“I told him. He was supposed to come with me to the hospital today. I waited for over an hour.” You said. You jumped when Andy’s hand slammed against the table suddenly, body leaned forward as he fixed you with a terribly furious gaze.

“Hospital?” He questioned, gaze accusing and you reeled back, raising your hand. You understood what he was implying, and though he didn’t have any say in it, you didn’t comment on his reaction.

“I went for a formal blood test. Sometimes these tests can be faulty.” You explained and watched Andy slump back in his chair, rubbing tiredly at his eyes. There was silence until he sighed deeply, folding his hands and leaning his elbows on the table.

“I am sorry.” He apologized. “About myself and my son. He’s a nasty piece of shit.”

You cracked a small smile, sharing an amused look with Andy until you started chuckling. That chuckle turned to a laugh, and your body vibrated as you lost all control. You laughed, you laughed until it turned into a sob and then a wail, helpless cries leaving your mouth with seemingly no end. Tears made their way down your eyes and into your open mouth, coating your tongue in bitter saltiness and you were suddenly in Andy’s arm, cradled to his chest where he held you tight.

He rocked your sobbing body slowly, patting your back and head as you wet his shirt with your snot and tears. Your helplessness and fear about what the future held had you snapping, and you let out your sorrows in the arms of the man who sired the reason for all your problems.

You may have cried for a few minutes or hours, you didn’t know. But Andy didn’t push you away, holding you until the last of your sniffles disappeared and you were able to breath normally. Mortified, your cheeks burning with heat and humiliation you raised your head from his chest to meet his eyes, watery gaze meeting a kind and concerned one.

“I am so sorry.” You whispered, embarrassed at having lost control like this.

A rough hand wiped at the wet tear tracks on your face, gentle and soft as he finally turned your chin up again.

“Don’t be. You deserve a breakdown.” Andy said, smiling softly at you. He slowly moved away and took his own seat, passing you a glass of water and not speaking until you’d taken a few sips. “Who else knows?”

“Just you for now. My parents…they aren’t exactly going to be supportive about this.” You answered, looking down. Your conservative family will either have you disowned or in an arranged marriage within a week.

When Andy spoke your name, you saw him conflicted. The lines in his forehead were deepened, unsure as to what to say to you.

“Do you want me to talk to Jacob? Because I assure you, he’ll take the responsibility. I’ll make him do it.” He promised you.

“At this point, I think my life would be better off without him. I am just here to discuss options with you.” You said and Andy frowned again.

“You wanna get rid of it?” He gruffly questioned, jaw clenched. You held in your frustration, allowing him to have his own opinions.

“No” You said, “I just wanna know my rights. I want to know that my position at the university and work will not be compromised. I want to know about child support and the laws that protect me. I need advice Mr. Barber. If I will bring a life into this world, I want to be prepared for it. I may have made a lot of bad decisions, but I refuse to be a bad mother.”

Andy looked at you as if looking at you for the first time. You saw him process your words until he slowly nodded, not looking away from you.

“I’ll help you. Give me a few days, I’ll compile all that you need.”

You were just about to sleep when you heard the knocking. Putting a robe over your t-shirt and shorts you went to answer the door, surprised when it was Andy. It had been three days since your talk, and you were to pick your blood reports the following morning.

“Mr. Barber” You greeted, letting him in. Why was he here so late?

“We need to talk.” Andy said, taking a seat on your couch. You bit your lip as you sat near him, wondering what had him looking so serious.

“I spoke to Jacob. He refused to take any responsibility. I am sorry I raised a jackass who won’t step in.” Andy said and you pursed your lips, not in the least bit surprised. You’d already gathered that Jacob was a fucking jerk, and you’d rather your kid have no dad than a deadbeat one.

“You don’t need to apologize Mr. Barber, it is not your fault.” You assured Andy.

“Please, call me Andy. I want you to know that if Jake won’t step in, I will. I will take care of you.” Andy promised and you blinked before shaking your head.

“I – Andy, that’s really sweet of you. But outside of legal advice I don’t need any help. I am a strong woman. I can take care of myself and my kid. Also, no offense, but I don’t want my kid too close to his father’s side and then have them wonder why dad doesn’t love them.” You said.

Andy regarded you slowly, a hand rubbing his beard before he rested back against the couch.

“No.” He said firmly.

“No?” You asked, confused. What did he mean no?

“Don’t ever say anything like that ever again. That child, they are a Barber. You’re not taking them away from me.” Andy said, fixing you with his deep blue eyes. You mouth parted in shock, a hazy sort of disbelief clouding your vision.

“Excuse me?” You sputtered, looking at him as if he’d lost his mind.

“That child will not grow up without a father. If Jake won’t claim them, I will. They have my blood in their veins too.” Andy said.

He was speaking, but he made no sense. You looked at him, not taking in a word he said. The only thing you focused on was how Andy had inched closer to you, sitting right next to you until your thighs touched. You blinked before quickly getting up to move away when Andy grabbed your hand and pulled you down beside him again.

“Andy! Let me go!” You cried, hitting against his shoulder. He didn’t move away, instead, he placed his other hand on your tummy, gently feeling.

“This is my kid inside you now. No one will know it’s Jake’s. I am your baby daddy.” Andy announced and before you knew it, his lips had enveloped yours, kissing you deep and hard. You struggled in his hold, panic making you trash as tears ran down your face. You pushed until Andy pulled away, holding you tight by your waist.

“Please, let me go.” You sobbed, uncomprehending of how things had gotten so out of hand.

“No. We will make sure this kid is mine. After tonight, no one will doubt their parentage.” He said and stood up, pulling your resisting body with him towards your bedroom. He more or less dragged you inside, locking the door and throwing you on your bed.

You crawled away from him, clutching your robe tight in fear as he came closer. His blue eyes had gotten darker, and you couldn’t look away as he unbuttoned his shirt.

“Please, don’t do this. Why are you doing this?” You begged, body trembling as he came closer. You shifted away but Andy dragged you back by your ankle, holding your body down with his weight as his hands came to remove your clothes.

“I’m making our relationship legit. I am giving myself a new chance at family with a perfect mother who will raise a good kid with me.” He said, kissing you again. Your robe slipped away, and Andy’s hands went under your t-shirt, racing up to cup your tits. He groaned in your mouth, tasting you and your tears as you weakly protested.

“No. You can’t do this.” You said, crying harder when his lips went from your jaw to your neck, kissing sweetly. His beard scratched against your skin, hands pinned underneath his massive body as he vowed to claim you and your kid.

“I can. I can do this, and you can’t stop me.” He whispered hotly in your ear, fighting your t-shirt off your wiggling body. Your bare chest met cold air, and soon enough your nipples were enveloped with the warmth of Andy’s mouth. He suckled gently, then harder, biting then soothing the sting with his tongue.

“These tits now belong to me.” He said, moving over to lavish is attention to the other breast before dipping lower to pepper kisses over your stomach. “Don’t worry little one, daddy is here. You’ll always have a father in me.”

You grew tired as your limbs hurt, your pathetic hits doing nothing to Andy. He seemed not to notice your cries or pleas, his nose nudging against your covered mound. You made one last effort to fight, kicking out your legs to push him away but Andy caught them, turning you on your side and delivering a sharp slap to your backside that had you gasping in pain and shock.

“Don’t be a fucking brat. You have to be a good mother to our child. You need to learn obedience to teach obedience.” He scolded you, pulling down your shorts and panties in a quick move. You sagged helplessly, not fighting anymore as Andy stripped off his own clothes. Any other day you would have appreciated how good he looked for a man his age, but now all you registered was how huge and strong he was, how easily he could overpower you.

He pulled your legs apart, baring your pussy to his hungry eyes. To your mortification, your folds were wet with slick, the curls on your mound glistening with the evidence of your arousal. You hid your face in embarrassment, unable to watch as Andy placed a kiss on the hood of your clit.

“Beautiful” He said breathlessly. “Absolutely gorgeous. Jacob never deserved you. He wouldn’t know how to handle a girl like you.”

With the first contact of his tongue, you bit your lip to stifle your moans. No man had eaten you with such passion before, as if you were a feast prepared for a man starved for years. Andy took his time exploring your pussy, opening you up like a flower before nudging his tongue in every fold, every crevice of you. He slurped and sucked, using his lips and tongue and teeth with such precision that you didn’t realize you were howling openly in the air now.

He eased one finger inside your entrance, lips pulling at your hard nub in a way that shot tingles up your spine. You fisted the bedsheet, twisting this way and that, unknowingly thrusting your pelvis in Andy’s face who could feel you were close.

“Let go darling,” He urged, “let go for me. Cum!”

You snapped, your back arching as you spilled around his finger that was clamped tightly in your velvet heat, his mouth greedily collecting all the moisture with relish. Pleasure left you lethargic and you didn’t react as Andy crawled up your body, kissing you while he coated his huge tool in your juices.

“Andy” You softly whispered, falling into a daze as he entered you slowly. Your still pulsing channel was snug against his cock, the hair at his base rubbing deliciously against your clit. He was way larger than his son and you felt full in a way you had never before.

“Your pussy belongs to me. You belong to me from now.” He promised, moving in and out of you at an agonizingly slow pace. He made your feel every ridge of his cock that rubbed against your spongy walls, he had you giving a high pitch screech every time he hit bottom. The mattress under you bounced with the movements of your body and your hands found themselves around Andy’s neck.

“I just want to be a good mother. I didn’t ask you for this.” You said, unable to keep your moans inside as he went faster.

“You need a strong man who will give you a family. Our kid will grow in a house of love. I will love you both and so will you.”

You tensed as he teased your clit, twiddling it with his thumb as he hit harder and deeper. His eyes were fixed at your entrance, watching enthralled as he went in and out of your body. The sounds of slapping skin and squelching fluid that dribbled down from your cunt to the bedsheet echoed around the room, and soon, you were falling again. You came with Andy’s name on your lips, both a curse and a prayer as you felt him groan and twitch inside you.

His warm cum painted your walls, marking you as his. He stayed in for sometime, holding you possessively close to his sweaty body until you were sure you smelt like him. He pulled out, appreciating how him cum flowed out of your abused hole and he smiled. Softly kissing your forehead, he gathered you in his arms and pulled a sheet over your slightly trembling frame, soothing you with gentle caresses.

“I knew it the moment he brought you home to meet me for the first time. You were too good for him. He never loved you right, never treated you like the princess you were. But now I’ve got you. You’ll wake up to coffee and breakfast and lazy kisses in bed, you’ll come home to a comfortable house and a dick that will give you a show of heaven. I’ll love you like you deserve to be loved. With reverence and devotion.”

He left you, coming back to clean the mess between your legs gently. He fed you himself, wiping every tear with a kiss until you stopped crying all together. Looking at him, the man who had violated your trust and body with equal parts of force and love, you wondered for a moment how drastically your life would change now.

You did not want him to accompany you inside, but he did. He snatched your report from your hand, keeping a hold over your waist until you went back to the car. Sitting beside you on the driver’s side, he tore open the envelope and pulled out your blood report, falling backward with a long sigh.

“What? What is it?” You asked, quickly taking it from his hands and reading. The paper crinkled as your fingers dug in it, tears of pain building in your eyes.

Negative

Not pregnant

It had all been for nothing. You didn’t have the Barber’s heir inside you and last night Andy had taken you by force for nothing. You crushed the report, wiping at your eyes and found his gaze on you.

“You fucked me for nothing.” You spat acidly, frustration and pain clawing at your heart. “I am not pregnant. And I am going.”

Before you had ever turned to open the door, Andy was pulling you roughly to himself, hauling your struggling body over his lap.

“You’re not going anywhere darling. You’re mine now. I’m not pathetic like my son. Unlike him, I will put a baby in you.” He growled in your ear, kissing a hot trail against your neck. You shook your head, looking at him in disbelief.

“But – but I’m not pregnant.” You said again, hoping he’ll understand.

“I know baby” He cooed, “but soon enough, you will be. Let’s go home and make it happen.”

[buckyodinson]

Relief (Mobius x f!Reader)

Summary: You and Mobius encounter a flower with an interesting side effect.

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: 18+, smut, sex pollen

A/N: I’m still not quite sure whether I can actually do smut justice lmao (and I never thought I’d ever write a sex pollen fic), but I saw a post by @send-me-to-valhalla​ and I’m very much in my Mobius feels right now, and this just kinda happened?

When you stepped through a timedoor to a new time and place, all you could do was admire what you saw, never touching anything where possible. Even something as seemingly innocent as picking a flower could potentially cause the Sacred Timeline to collapse. On this occasion, even just being near a particular flower would prove to have significant consequences. Unbeknownst to the pair of you, this particular flower had given off a fine mist that surrounded you, seeping into your pores while you were none the wiser.

You’d pointed the flower out to Mobius, claiming the shimmering silver hue of it’s petals matched his hair. He leaned closer to the flower and turned to you with a smirk, “I’m prettier though, right?”

You tilted your head and hummed in mock thought, looking between him and the flower and raising your eyebrows, “If you say so.”

“Oof, right in the heart.” He held a hand against his chest dramatically as he stood back to full height and carried on walking.

You follow him in silence, looking for any signs of the variant you were hunting. Your TemPads were scanning for any remnants of the variant, but had yet to pick anything up.

After a few more minutes of wandering around, your TemPad beeped, and you looked down at it, sighing. 

“There’s no variant energy anywhere. This one’s another dead end.” you shut your TemPad and put it in your pocket while Mobius fiddled with his until a timedoor opened in front of you. He gave you a quick nod before walking through.

You took one last look around you, admiring the beauty of nature before stepping into the timedoor and going back to the normalcy of the TVA headquarters.

The odd feeling crept upon you slowly. The first thing you noticed was little pinpricks of heat dancing across your skin. You ignored it, figuring it was your body acclimating from the difference in temperature between the humid rainforest and the brisk air of the TVA.

As you and Mobius got back to your desks, he shucked off his blazer and put it on the back of his chair before sitting down and rolling up his sleeves. Unusual, you thought. In all your time knowing Mobius, you don’t think you’ve ever seen him without his blazer. You certainly weren’t complaining though. You’d always harboured a little bit of a crush on your silver-haired (and silver-tongued) partner.

You also find yourself taking your blazer off and draping it over your chair soon after. There must be a problem with the air conditioning, you tell yourself as you try to focus on the paperwork on your desk, and not the man in front of you.

At some point, he’d abandoned his tie and undone the first few buttons on his shirt. You couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him, and the little bit of his chest that was now exposed. You were getting increasingly hot, and before long you’d removed your own tie, unbuttoning your shirt a little and rolling your sleeves up, matching the look Mobius was sporting.

Were you really getting this hot and bothered over a glimpse of Mobius’ chest? It’s been a while, you think, trying to convince yourself that’s the reason you’re acting like this. You force yourself to look back down at your work, trying desperately to focus, shifting in your seat every now and then and clenching your thighs together as thoughts of Mobius flew through your mind. You thought you were doing an okay job at managing it, but with all your fidgeting, you’d roused your partner’s attention.

“You good?” he drawled, and you looked up at him, immediately regretting it. Mobius looked disheveled, but in that super attractive way that shouldn’t be legal. He had a glow about him, and his hair was a bit messed up, likely from him raking his hands through it. He also had a particularly adorable blush painting his cheeks, and you felt your own cheeks heat up at the sight.

“I don’t know, I just feel strange...” you sighed, wiping your forehead and noting how hot it felt.

He thought for a second before standing up, “I’m gonna go grab a Josta, you want one?”

“Yeah, sure. I might take a stroll down to medbay, check if I’ve got a fever or something?”

“Meet ya back here?” he smiled and you nodded, both going your separate ways.

You find yourself speed-walking to the medbay, and thankfully there’s nobody else waiting so you scan your card and wait for someone to come get you.

A doctor appeared in one of the doorways, motioning you into his small examination room.

“What seems to be the problem?” he asked monotonously.

“I... uh, I’ve been feeling off since coming back from a timedoor trip.”

“When and where did you go?” he asks, fingers at the ready of his computer.

“Uhhh, 2044, the Ionesc rainforest on Jaxyx 5.”

The sound of the computer keys tapping is almost deafening as you wait for him to say something.

“Did you touch any wildlife while you were there?”

“No.”

“Did you let any wildlife touch you?”

“No.”

“Do you recognise this plant?” He turns the screen and shows you the silver flower from earlier.

“Yes, we came across it.”

He hums and looks back at the screen before questioning you, “We?”

“Myself and Agent Mobius.”

“Please walk through the scanner.” He speaks abruptly and gestures to the machine over to your right.

You get up and walk through it before returning to your seat.

“It’s as I thought. The flower secreted a pollen that can have some... stimulating effects on those it comes into contact with.”

“Stimulating?”

“An increase in libido.” he says plainly.

“...okay. And how do I stop it? Is there like, a pill or a shot you can give me?”

“Unfortunately, there is no stopping it once it is in your system. It is only a matter of alleviation before it runs it’s course.”

You’re almost scared to ask, “Okay, and how do I do that?” 

“Self-gratification will aid slightly, though the presence of another will work better to alleviate the discomfort you’ll soon start to feel.” You feel your face heat up at the doctor’s suggestion. 

He doesn’t give you time to question him, “Will you fetch Agent Mobius and send him to me, please? Once you’ve done that, head home and find a way to work through it that suits you best.”

“O-okay.” you leave and head back to your desk.

You find Mobius sat at his desk, looking extremely uncomfortable, but he puts on a smile once he notices you approaching, “You doing alright?” he grimaces.

“I’ve.. uh... I’ve been sent home to rest, get over this thing. The doctor told me to get you to go get checked too, just in case you picked it up.”

“What is it?”

“Uhh, I think it’s better if the doc explains it to you.” you feel yourself blushing at the thought of what’s happening to the pair of you.

“Well, uh, okay then. I’ll catch you around?” he offers as he starts to walk away.

“Yep!” you struggle to get out once you notice the bulge in his trousers.

You scramble to sort your desk out before you go home, looking at Mobius’ desk while you consider a thought. The doctor all but said that getting fucked was gonna make you feel better than getting yourself off. And since the both of you were afflicted, it made sense to ask Mobius. Right? You told yourself yes, it made sense. But you didn’t want to embarrass yourself by asking him straight up, in case he rejected the idea. So you grabbed his notepad he’d left on his desk and scribbled a note on it before rushing off to your apartment.

Mobius was beet red as he made his way back to his desk after his visit with the doctor, deep in thought about what to do now. He noticed you’d tidied your desk, but he also clocked something was amiss with his own desk as he approached it. His notepad. You’d written in it. He’d recognise your handwriting a mile away. Why had you written in his notepad? His eyes widened as he read your note. After a brief pause to consider, he found himself grabbing his things and heading in the direction of your apartment.

Mo,

I’m sure the doc told you the best way to get through this is together.

Swing by if you’re comfortable (you know the code to my place). Ignore if not.

Y/N

You got home and immediately took a cold shower in the hopes it would do something to alleviate the pain that was starting to kick in, but it did nothing. You took some painkillers too, but still nothing. Arriving at the conclusion that Mobius wasn’t coming, you had undressed and were getting ready to get in bed and get yourself off when you heard your front door beep and open.

You heard the familiar drawl of your name echo through your apartment, and you almost moaned in relief at the thought of Mobius being here to help, “Here!” you strangled out.

You’d barely covered yourself in your sheets when Mobius appeared in the doorway of your bedroom. He looked even more discheveled than earlier, and his trousers looked even more strained than they had been earlier. You clenched your thighs together at the sight of him. You knew it was wrong, he was likely in just as much pain as you, but fuck if the sight of him wasn’t glorious. He looked like a deer in headlights, just staring at you, breathing heavily.

“I... I-uh, wh-” he stuttered.

“Just get over here Mo.” you sighed, and he didn’t have to be told twice.

He dropped his blazer and toed off his shoes before almost lunging onto the bed and crowding you.

“Are you sure you want this, sweetheart?” he drawls as he looks down at you, using all the restraint he has not to just kiss you immediately.

“Yes,” you moan in reply and pull his face down so you can kiss him. He groans and kisses you back ferociously, fumbling with a hand to undo his shirt.

He pulls back from you and sits up to unbutton it the rest of the way, and you sit up to help him with his trousers. The sheet falls away from you, exposing your chest to Mobius, and it takes everything in him not to jump right back on you. But he muscles through the need and stands up to shuck off the rest of his clothes before crawling back over you. The sight of his hardened cock has you sighing and clenching around nothing.

He slants his lips against yours again as his hands make their way to your breasts. He swallows your moans and reciprocates with equally wanton groans and grunts. He can’t help but bite down on your lip when he feels your hand wrap around his cock, and it only makes your grip around him tighten as you stroke him.

He pulls away and mumbles against your lips, “Fuck, darlin’. So good.”

Soon enough, he grabs your hand and moves it away, lining himself up with your entrance and pushing into you after one more glance up at you. He slides in easily and he almost collapses on top of you once he bottoms out. The feeling is overwhelming for the both of you. Him simply being inside you already brings a huge relief to the both of you, and you spend a minute just laying there and catching your breaths.

The pain slowly starts to creep back though, and you grasp at Mobius, pulling his face back to yours, “Please, Mo. Move.” you all but sob and he pulls almost all the way out of you before slamming back in. You grab a fistful of his hair and tug on it as you capture his lips once more. He groans into the kiss and you can’t help but smile.

He sets a relentless pace, and you can feel the pain slowly start to slip away as he pounds into you mercilessly. You’re almost delirious, and he’s mumbling incoherently against the skin of your neck, but you manage to make out an ‘sorry’ among the nonsense. You remind yourself to question that when he’s not fucking you anymore.

Mobius snakes a hand down your body, bringing his thumb to your clit and pressing it harshly, pulling a lewd moan from the back of your throat, “Oh God, Mo... please.”

“Please what, sugar?” you can feel his grin against your cheek as he presses a soft kiss there.

“Don’t stop. You feel so good.”

“Don’t plan on it, sweetheart.” Somehow he picks up his pace, and his thumb presses more insistently against your clit and it tips you over the edge. Your mouth opens in a silent scream as relief washes over you, and you clench around Mobius.

He grunts at the feeling and his pace falters as he spills inside you, capturing your lips again and kissing you with all the strength he has. He lazily pushes into you a couple more times, riding out your highs before coming to a stop and rolling you both over so he was laying on his back and you were on top of him.

The ache wasn’t completely gone, and you could feel Mobius was still hard inside you, and you wondered if you’d have to go for another round to alleviate the effects of the pollen even more. But for now, you were content to just lay there with Mobius and bask in the afterglow.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” he murmured, and you pushed yourself weakly up onto your elbows so you could look down at him.

“What for?”

“I feel like I’ve used you.” he rubs at his temple, avoiding eye contact with you.

“Mo, don’t be stupid. We both needed to do this. I don’t feel used at all. I feel great, frankly.” you chuckle and move to sit up, careful to keep him inside you.

His tone remains defeated, despite the little groan at your movement, “It’s just... I feel like I’ve ruined things. This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

“What do you mean?” you rub his stomach softly, admiring the little bit of a belly he had.

“I love you, Y/N. And now, because I couldn’t recognise a stupid sex flower, I’ve ruined my chance to show you that properly, and I feel so stu-”

You grab his face and kiss him with all your might, only pulling away when you needed to breathe, “I love you too, Mo. Since my first day as your partner.”

“Really?” the small smile that pulled on his lips was adorable and you couldn’t help but steal another kiss from him.

“Yes, really. You haven’t ruined anything. As uncomfortable as that flower has made me, at least it finally got us together. Otherwise we’d have probably both danced around our feelings for the rest of time.” you smirk, and he chuckles.

“Yeah, you’re probably right.”

“Once we’re over this, how about you take me out for dinner?” you raise an eyebrow cheekily.

“Sounds like a date.” he replies.

“I love you, Mobius M. Mobius.” you smile down at him as you press a chaste kiss to his lips.

“For all time?” he counters, pulling you even closer.

“Always.” you beam.

You and Mobius ended up going for another few rounds that night, though you’re pretty sure the second round cleared up the effects of the pollen. But where would the fun be in stopping, right?

[wooahaes]

white carnations

pairing: non-idol!hyunsuk x gn!reader

prompt: ... your first love from here

word count: 1k~

warnings: n/a

daisy’s notes: i feel like i’m getting back into a rhythm rn and this one isnt great but also. it do be a lil soft.

Hyunsuk didn’t know that you’d been relistening to that same goddamn voice message when he knocked on your door, white carnations in hand. Even though it was legal for him to, he rarely would drink. Jihoon had roped him into that, and for some reason drunk him thought it was a good idea to leave you the sappiest goddamn message about how he was still in love with you despite it being almost two years since the two of you broke up. You were his first love, and he missed you. Seeing you on campus was easy, most days: you still smiled at him because you two were still on good terms. On the worst, he missed holding your hand. Teasing you over the way you looked at him, or the way you’d reach for his hand instinctively when he fell into step beside you (what if it had been Jihoon? Or Yoshinori? Would you hold their hands, or do you have a spidey-sense just for him?), or the way you always trusted him to have an extra stick of lip balm on hand in the flavor that you liked most (what if he didn’t? Hm? What if he decided not to?). He missed the cozy moments, too, where you’d hold him tight when everything was getting too stressful. The way you’d lay everything out with him and were happy to help him tackle things one by one, working on your own work in a peaceful quiet next to him.

He had spilled everything, only for Yoshi to have pulled his phone away from him in an attempt to spare him from embarrassing himself any further. It hadn’t worked, and Hyunsuk later forgot he ever sent that message, but it was the thought that counts.

He didn’t, however, expect you to reach out to him about a week after that night. To ask him if he wanted to go out again, just to test the waters and see if the two of you still felt something for one another.

(The other thing he didn’t know was that you knew exactly how you felt: you just needed to see if that was a drunk Hyunsuk spilling real feelings or if he was just bullshitting you).

“And I still love you”, seemed to play on repeat in your head as you answered the door, coming face to face with Hyunsuk who immediately smiled that goddamn cute smile that would make you melt in an instant, saying your name in that equally cute tone like you had lit up his world just by existing. Judging by the message he had left you, you did.

“I brought you flowers,” he said, looking down at the white carnations in his hands. “Do you like them?”

You simply nodded, taking them from him. “Let me put these in some water and then we can go, okay?”

It’d been an excuse to leave him out in the hallway, giving you a minute to shut the door and immediately bury your face in your free hand. Shit, he was still cute and sweet. Why did the two of you break up again? Wasn’t it some stupid petty thing? You thought back on it while you were keeping to your word, finding something to keep the flowers in and a place to keep them. Something about him hesitating to take the first move sometimes? That you were happy to initiate things, but sometimes you wish he’d do a little more? He seemed to leap at opportunities when it came to everything relating to music production, but he still seemed to hesitate with you.

When you opened the door, stepping out, you were surprised when he immediately offered out his hand for you to take.

“There’s a new cafe that opened up off campus,” he started once you accepted his hand, squeezing yours tight, “they have really good coffee. I was thinking we could go, and then I could show you this store near it that looked like something you liked...”

As he rambled on, you felt a sense of comfort in just being in his presence again. The message seemed to gnaw at the back of your mind the more you listened to him talk, and he noticed the way you had squeezed his hand tight at one point, more preoccupied with your thoughts than what he’d been saying.

“What’s wrong?”

You looked him in the eyes. “Do you still love me?”

Surprisingly, he nodded. “I don’t think I stopped.” He squeezed your hand. “Do you?”

You nodded. Of course you still loved him, at least a little. “You were the first person I loved,” you admitted, “and.. I’d like it if you were my last.”

His smile fell as he watched you, your name tumbling out of his mouth in a quiet whisper. He dragged his thumb across the back of your hand. “We’re going to have to try really hard.”

There was a part of you scared to say it, but you finally nodded after a moment. “I’m ready to do it.”

“Are you?” He swung your arms a little, “Good.” Hyunsuk’s shoulder bumped into your own as he swayed toward you, “I needed you in the stands. Junkyu isn’t as good of a good luck charm.”

“I’ll going to tell him that,” you teased. “And then you can deal with him pouting.”

“He’ll be fine,” he leaned forward, pressing a quick peck against your cheek before immediately blushing. “Ah... Sorry. You’re cute,” he giggled, “I missed you.”

He certainly was one to talk, but you’d call him on it later. You just fell into a comfortable pace with him, letting him guide you out of your apartment building and onto the street to take the bus wherever the two of you wanted.

“Hyunsuk?”

“Hm?”

“I love you,” you said,. “Just so you know.”

He smiled wider, squeezing your hand hard in that way he always did when he was completely overcome with happiness. Sometimes he’d hide his face, letting out the tiniest little noise that either you or his friends would tease him for, but this time he seemed to own it. “I love you, too.”

[not-me-simping-for-blasty]

Welcome Home - Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki’s back from a mission, hardly through the door and already acting strange. it’d be a lot easier to figure out if he wasn’t so- well, himself.

—/—

Bakugou likes to pretend. Pretend that he’s tough, that he’s mean, that he’s prickly all the way through. And he might be, to others, but you’re not exactly others to him.

He loves you, and for Katsuki, love has always been something that weakens him. He needs it, you think, because he’s plenty strong already. So maybe it’s a good thing he goes so molten soft for you.

You think he’s softest now- when he’s just come back from a mission away, freshly showered and ready for sleep. He’ll creep up behind you, catching your around your middle. Searching fingers find the dip of your waist, settling there as he pulls you back against his chest. Katsuki doesn’t even really greet you, but that’s okay- he’ll place a feather-light kiss under your jaw and it’s always more than enough.

“Food’s almost ready.” You say lightly, leaning back against him. “Should be just a few more minutes, yeah?”

“No.”

“No- what? Aren’t you hungry?”

“No. Tired.”

“Okay.” You nod, turning in his arms. You’ve got your hands against his chest, and Bakugou pulls you forward even more, away from the hot stove behind you. “You should probably eat before you sleep though. Get your strength back, you know?”

“No. Ate earlier, ‘m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.” He grumbles, very obviously annoyed. “I’m fuckin’ sure.”

You recoil a bit at his tone- but Katsuki doesn’t let you get very far. He keeps you trapped against his chest, one hand leaving your waist to turn the oven off. Whatever’s up with him clearly has him upset- you can see it in the crease of his eyebrow, the way his nostrils flare like a bull.

His moods are always unpredictable, but this behavior is even more so. Usually he’s pretty tame when he gets back home from a mission, he never really snaps. Not like he is now.

You try to give him some space, but he seems bothered by that too. Bakugou turns you back around, crowding you against the cooling stove. He’s all heavy weight and heat, solid against your shoulders and refusing to move. He drops his forehead into your skin, nuzzling at the junction where your shoulder meets your neck.

“Are you alright?” You ask hesitantly, raising a hand up to card through his hair. Bakugou melts into you at that, and it only worries you more. “Everything go okay?”

“Mhm.”

He’s noncommittal, voice hardly more than a grumble. You feel his eyes flutter against your skin, and he pulls you even further into him. Your practically draped in this hulking, mass of a man, breathing in the very air that leaves his mouth.

“Really that tired, huh?” You try again, scratching idly at his scalp. “I’ll finish the food, and wrap it up. Don’t worry about it, you can just go to bed.”

“No. Leave it.”

“I’m not just gonna leave it. It’ll get all gross sitting out overnight.”

“Jesus fuck,” He huffs once more, and you don’t have to see it to know he’s rolling his eyes. “I said fuckin’ leave it. So fuckin’ leave it!”

Your eyes widen- because you know he did not just speak to you that way.

Bakugou must regret it too, because then he’s hugging you tighter, ghosting his hands up and down your sides. “Didn’t mean it.” He says. “I’m just tired. Shouldn’t have snapped. Leave the food, I’ll clean it up later.”

You’re still a little annoyed, but you’re long past picking fights over his tone. He was just surly- and you still loved him in spite of it.

“Yeah- okay. It’s fine.” You agree. “You wanna take a nap then?”

He nods against your skin, but doesn’t really move. If anything he gathers you closer, hanging his head over your shoulder.

“Don’t sleep here.” You giggle, dropping a kiss to his hairline. “C’mon- I’ve gotta go clean up a bit first, and then we’ll go get in bed.”

“‘m already clean.”

“I didn’t say you. I said me. I’ve gotta get clean.”

He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck, dragging his nose against the soft skin. “Smell fine to me.” He says.

“I didn’t- did you just sniff me?”

He just shrugs, and you can feel it against your back.

“Jesus, what’d they do to you, huh? Tired you out so much that you became a different person?” You laugh, turning in his arms. Bakugou lets you, settling his hands on the small of your back. “You’re never this soft.”

He seizes, squeezing your sides. “Shut up.”

“I legally can’t.”

“You can, and you fuckin’ should.”

“Hey- play nice or you’re going to bed by yourself.”

Bakugou doesn’t seem all too pleased by your joke, his strong arms tightening around you. When you look up at him, he’s glowering, jaw set and eyes squinted.

“Calm down, grumpy.” You smile fondly, patting his chest. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Well- not right now, anyways. I missed you too much.”

You hardly see his face go red before he’s hunching over, hiding in your neck. You can feel the heat rising in his cheeks, but you don’t comment. Bakugou already knows he’s done for just as much as you do.

“Wanted to come home.” He says. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Shoulda picked a different job then. Hero.”

He scoffs. “World would go to shit without me.”

“Yeah- it would, wouldn’t it?”

You feel his smile against your neck. Another second passes and then you’re gently pushing him off, brushing past to start towards the bedroom. Katsuki follows you, like a shadow, the entire way- hardly even a breath of space between you. Even when you start into the bathroom, grabbing at your face wash, he’s there too. He leans against the counter, holding a towel.

“So helpful.” You tease, turning on the sink. “Maybe you should go away more often.”

“‘m always helpful.”

“Mhm. Sure you are.”

You start your routine, working through the steps, and he just watches. Usually he’s in bed at this point, but for whatever reason, tonight Katsuki is choosing to stay instead. He stays and he stands- rooted in place just a few inches away, red eyes watching you intently through the mirror. Whatever had him so bent out of shape earlier apparently still has him arrested. If you didn’t know any better you’d even say that he was being clingy.

You motion for the towel, and Bakugou just does this funny little half-smirk. He pushes off the counter, nearing, standing just behind you and- he drops the towel. Over your head.

“Jerk.” You fuss, swiping the towel away. “I knew you were suspicious! Standing there- being suspiciously calm!”

He smiles, eyes crinkling in the corners. “Calm down, you baby. ‘s a towel. Not like I dropped a fuckin’ building on your head.”

“No, but you would.”

Bakugou shrugs.

“No! No! Get out. Get out of my bathroom right now.” You playfully scold, glaring at him through the mirror. He’s standing behind you now, just inches away. “And to think I told you I missed you. I take it back. I totally take it back.”

“No you don’t.”

“I do!”

“You don’t.” He says confidently, arms wrapping around your waist. “Already said it, dumbass. Can’t take that shit back now.”

“You are an ass, you know that?”

“Mhm.”

“No- you’re not supposed to agree!” You laugh, lightly elbowing him away. “Now, c’mon, let me go. Gotta brush my teeth still.”

“So brush them. Dunno why the hell you’re makin’ it my fuckin’ problem.”

“I’m making it your problem because you’re the one hanging off me like an overgrown toddler.”

Bakugou rolls his eyes, stepping back for a moment. He reaches for your toothpaste and toothbrush, one hand leaving your hip while the other stays.

“Here.” He says. “Everthing you need. Stop fuckin’ complaining and brush your damn teeth already.”

You catch his gaze in the mirror, but Bakugou really doesn’t seem to be relenting. He stands his ground, hardly an inch of space between his chest and your back. He looked ridiculous- you wondered just what the hell was wrong with him that night.

“Fine- have it your way.” You relent, turning on the sink once more. “But only because it’s been two weeks since you were last here to pull this shit. Not happening again, got it?”

He just smirks. Bakugou know’s he’s won. He always does.

You brush your teeth, and he hardly moves. He stands with his arms wrapped around you, holds your hair back when you lean down to rinse around your mouth. It’s almost nice- until he’s flicking water at you.

“Are you- are you being serious right now?” You glare at him. “I thought you were tired.”

“Yeah. I am.“ He starts, a slow smirk spreading across his face. It’s a look you knows means trouble of the exceedingly childish variety. “Tired of your shit.” 

“Bakugou Katsuki! What the hell has gotten into you?” 

He rolls his eyes, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He tightens his arms around your waist, averting his eyes. “Haven’t been around.” Bakugou says. “Had to save all this energy up. Couldn’t resist- ‘s not my fault.” 

“Is that- are you trying to tell me that you missed me?” 

“Is that what I fuckin’ said?”

“Well, no, not in those exact words. But don’t worry, I get what you mean. And it’s a little cute.” Then you spin in his arms, leaning back against the counter. You bring a hand up, flicking his forehead before he can dodge. “But try that water shit with me again, and I promise you’ll leave this bathroom drenched.” 

“You makin’ threats now? Hah?”

 “Absolutely. Think I got a little bolder while you were gone. Shouldn’t have left me alone for so long!”

Your joke doesn’t seem to land- at least not the way you want it to. His eyes squint, just a bit, just minutely, but you see it. Then he’s shaking his head, dropping his hands to the counter to cage you in against him.

“Didn’t- I wouldn’t-” He starts, before swearing under his breath. Bakugou takes a deep breath. “I don’t like bein’ gone all the time. Wouldn’t if I didn’t fuckin’ have to. If there was another way I’d-”

“I know. I know you would.” You place a hand on his chest, and he just looks thankful that you’ve been merciful. That you don’t make him say the words. “I was just joking. I’d never hold that against you, you know. It doesn’t matter to me that you have to go, just that you always come back to me.”

He just breathes deep, trying his best to meet your eyes. Bakugou never really was good at eye contact, always trying his best to hide from what he feels. You try your best not to let him though- you don’t want to leave him with any doubt about where he stood with you. Where he’d always stand with you, if you had anything to say about it.

Katsuki pats your head then, ruffling your hair while he bites his knuckle. He’s embarrassed, awfully so, but he’s trying his best yet again. “Don’t- you can’t just say shit like that.” He grumbles, but then he’s turning around, pulling you gently by the arm towards the bedroom. “I’ll always come back. You really think I’d let any of those idiot villains kill me?” 

“Nope. Not a chance. You’d strike ‘em dead.”

“That’s my girl.” He smirks. “Course I would.” 

He waits patiently while you change into comfier shorts, throwing one of his own sweatshirts toward you when he sees you start for the closet. You think it’s always a little cute- the way Bakugou, no matter how much he denies it, definitely has a thing for you wearing his clothes. Not that you’re complaining much, though.

When you finally slip under the covers, he is not far behind. You’re about to ask him what he wants, but he makes it very clear- by choosing to lie directly on top of you.

“You know,” You laugh a little, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear. “It’s almost like you actually did miss me. You’re being awfully clingy tonight.”

“No- that’s stupid. Stop being dumb- that’s- don’t say that shit to me again.” He mumbles, digging his face further into your collarbone. You can feel his lips against your skin- the way his cheeks are puffed into a pout. “That word is fuckin’ banned.”

“You can’t ban a word.”

“The hell do you think you’re talkin’ to? ‘Course I can.”

“You really cant.”

“I can. Shut up.”

You only laugh a little bit, trying not to squeak when he hugs you tighter. Your sides have always been ticklish, and Bakugou knows this- as it is now, he’s tapping his fingers just under your ribs. Like he’s daring you to keep defying him. Knowing him, he probably is.

Bakugou grunts, grabbing at one of your hands. He catches you around your wrist, dropping your hand into his hair. You both know what he wants but you can’t help yourself from teasing him again.

“See?” You laugh, but start dragging your nails against his scalp anyways. “You’re just proving my point. You’re clingy.”

“I’m not.”

“So, what, you just wouldn’t care if I got up right now?”

“Nope. Get up. Leave. Now.”

You shake your head, but you decide to play anyways. You always do when it comes to him.

He’s got you trapped under him, a solid weight against your torso. Still, you try your best to wriggle out, pressing against his chest with all your might. But, solid muscle doesn’t exactly budge easy and you’re going nowhere fast.

“Let me up!” You laugh, pressing against his chest once more. “I thought you said you didn’t care!”

“I don’t. Idiot.”

“Mhm, then why are you keeping me trapped here, huh?”

“‘m not.” He smirks, hands falling back to your waist. Bakugou presses his thumbs into your sides, smirking when you start to squirm. “Not my fault you’re too weak to get up.”

“You’re a dick, you know that?”

“Nah- you love me.”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that spills from you then. He’s right- no matter how much your pride would like to say otherwise.

Bakugou seems to know he’s right too. You can see it in the curve of his smile, the way his eyes are two shades lighter than they normally are. Nobody would ever believe you, but when he’s like this, with you, you swear Bakugou could outshine the sun.

“Say it, dumbass.”

“Say what?” You laugh, scrunching your nose up playfully. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Yes you do. Stop playin’ dumb.”

“I’m not playing anything. I’ll say it if you say it.”

“The hell am I supposed to say?”

You just laugh, brushing the blonde hair back from his eyes. Bakugou blushes at the gesture, but he doesn’t push your hand away. If anything he pressed forward. Until you get the message once more, and start dragging your fingers through his hair.

“I’m not gonna say it. Dumbass.”

“I thought you didn’t know what you were supposed to say?”

“Shut the hell up.” He flusters, voice pinched and embarrassed. “I’m not- ‘m not sayin’ it, alright?”

“I know, I know, god forbid you admit that you actually missed me, right?”

“Exactly.”

“You’re not- don’t agree!” You laugh, lightly tugging on his hair in warning. “This is the part where you’re supposed to say how lonely you were, and how much you missed me, and how I’m such an important and vital part of your life.”

You finish with a dreamy sigh, playing up the theatrics for nothing other than you’re own enjoyment. All your met with is silence. Pure silence and then-

“Yeah fuckin’ right- ‘m not saying that stupid shit.”

You tug on his hair. For real this time. Not much, but just enough to get him to jump a little. Just enough so you could giggle, shushing him with your hands rubbing down his back.

“Fine, well I guess if you won’t say that either,” You start, smiling coyly. “Then I guess I definitely won’t tell you that I love you. Because you wouldn’t care- obviously.”

“No- that’s- that’s different. You can say that. I’m allowing you to. Why do you always gotta make everything so damn difficult, hah?”

“Because- nice boys get to hear nice things, and you’ve never been anything short of the devil incarnate-“

“Hey!”

“What, gonna tell me I’m wrong?” You smile fondly down at him. “Besides, I thought you were tired. No exhausted person I’ve ever known argues this much.”

“I’m tired- not falling asleep. There’s a fuckin’ difference. I just wanted to lay down.” 

His face is red, but you hardly even get to see if before Katsuki is hiding once more. Still, even if the execution was lacking, the sentiment still makes you love him all over again. 

“And you are wrong.” He starts again. “‘m nice to you all the time!”

“Yeah. When I force you to be.”

“That’s- you’re not right.”

“I am. Say one nice thing to me. Right now, c’mon. Prove me wrong.”

You’re egging his on now, challenge dripping from your voice. It’s the sort of badgering that always works with him, and it seems to be working now too. He sits up, hovering above you and braced on his elbows. 

“Fine. I-” He struggles for a moment, face going a violent shade of red. “I-I missed you. Happy?”

Truthfully, it does make you happy. Happier than anything else, but you didn’t plan to let him off easy. Not this time. With Katsuki, there’s only so much mercy to go around.

“Oh- you missed me?” You tease. “The Bakugou Katsuki missed little old me? Fascinatin-“

He squeezes your sides, driving his thumbs into your hips until you’re squirming and giggling. “Shut up. Dumbass! This is why ‘m never nice to you!”

You want to respond, but his hands are at your sides, poking and prodding and tickling you into submission. It’s the worst kind of torture, one that feels entirely brutal, but then you look up at him. He doesn’t smile often- not as much as you always wished he would anyways, but he is now. Bakugou is grinning like mad, all sharp teeth and loud laughter. Eventually he stops, letting you catch you breath, but he’s still smiling. You’d love to say something, but you don’t. You know he’d wipe the smile right off his face if you did.

“Fine fine, I’ll- I’ll be quiet now. You win.” You say, a hand on your chest as you catch your breath. “I do have just a few last things to say though.”

“Jesus christ. What now?”

“I love you.” You smile. “And I missed you. And I’m so glad you’re home.”

He smiles changes then, from wide and unrelenting to something tiny and tight lipped. You think you’ve made a mistake, but then his eyes crinkle up. His eyes crinkle up and his cheeks pink, and you think he’s so beautiful then that it hurts. 

Bakugou Katsuki is rough and tumble, but when you melt him down, he really is softer than anything.

--/---

n e wayz,,, soft katsu n shit-head katsu are best katsu,,, i said what i said

alsoooooo lmaooo i took a break but im back now!!! 

[beomglocks]

sleepover ; c.sb

summary : it's time to figure out where to sleep for the night. part 3 of dilf soob chronicles. send ask for more hehehe <3

pairing : dilf neighbor!soobin x (legal)!reader

warnings & other : smut, oral-fem receiving, threesome(?), some fingering, requested, DON'T read if you're uncomfortable with age gaps, daddy kink, (i just got out of having this kink but it was requested so why not), dirty talk, some beomgyu (no incest), slight possessiveness, this ones for the dilf soob shooters, a bit of somnophilia, soobin possible brat tamer moment, idk lol , semi proof read

w/c : ~3000 (long for no reason)

“alright funs over kids,” soobin yawns as if he wasn’t just trying to finger you a half hour ago. beomgyu rolls his eyes as he stretches and you just look at the man beside you in bewilderment.

“kids?” you ask. you raise your eyebrow at him. it’s only about 1am which wasn’t too late for you. that and the fact that you feel like you were left bothered when soobin didn’t finish what he started earlier. you figure beomgyu wouldn’t be tired at this time either but soobin on the other hand-

you had to hold back a remark about him suddenly being so fatherly when it seemed like he was ok with fucking you right in front of his son earlier.

“yes kids,” he smirks. you hate that he’s teasing you right now. that was the thing about mr. choi that drew you in every time. one thing you had learned from being around mr. choi was that this man was a tease. perhaps it was because you were used to being around people your age who were much more straightforward with their advances but either way it made you want to do more and more.

you push those thoughts to the back of your brain for when the moment arises and hold back the urge to roll your eyes in front of his face. is this what beomgyu is used to?

“daddy’s taking his kids to bed, isn’t this fun,” he offhandedly says as he jokes with his son while you sit and wait for further instructions on where to sleep. maybe he thought you wouldn’t hear him but what- did he just refer to himself as daddy? you didn’t know that hearing him say that would have such an effect on you.

if you didn’t know whether or not you had a daddy kink well this moment just confirmed it. what would it take to make him refer to himself like that again?

“daddy?” you blurt without thinking. shit- beomgyu wouldn’t think that’s weird right? you were just reiterating what was said. you could play it off as being confused as to why his “playful father” was talking to his clearly grown son in such a way.

soobin pauses and takes a while to turn to you. perhaps hearing you say that affected him too. daddy? saying it himself wasn’t such a big deal because he didn’t think much of it but coming from your lips made him want to hear it more. he could get used to that sound.

“yeah...” soobin thinks out loud to himself for a moment. he could make use of this. you think your heart or something else pounds at the way soobin is looking at you right now. he looks like he has plans to eat you out right then and there but you can tell he’s holding himself back.

“yeah, daddy’s gonna take his kids to bed,” his reiterates with emphasis on the word daddy and bed. “is that ok with you y/n?”

you nod silently, suddenly giddy at the thought of finally being alone with mr. choi uninterrupted for sure this time.

“where will y/n sleep?” beomgyu asks. “i think i have the inflatable bed still in my-“

soobin cuts his son off with a click of his tongue. “i can’t have two adolescents of opposite genders sleeping in the same room together, that’s controversial.”

you subtly raise your eyebrow at him. essentially your entire relationship, if you could even call it that, was controversial. however, you were interested to see how he would play this off. it’s clear soobin wants you to himself tonight.

beomgyu almost looks like he wants to speak up to shut down the mere idea of you both fooling around alone but mr. choi continues.

“i can’t just leave y/n alone on the couch in the living room, that’s not safe. since there really are no other spare rooms i guess she’ll have to sleep in my room?”

this was true. soobin thought ahead to a plethora of different excuses as to get you in his room without coming off as suspicious. he remembered that thankfully all of the junk they had during the move was shoved into various spare rooms around the house with no space or option of clearing out a room for guests.

“i will sleep on the couch,” soobin annouces valiantly. beomgyu takes a moment to process this and takes you a bit of time too.

you thought soobin would make some lame excuse about having you sleep on the floor in his room or something to have to you near him so you’re left dumbfounded and somewhat frustrated at his thought process. he’s gonna leave me alone in his room? wasn’t the point for us to fuck?

“that sounds fair,” beomgyu concludes. he doesn’t think much of it because why would he. his father is sleeping on the couch and his neighbor is sleeping soundly in a different room. no need to get suspicious.

“well, have a good night,” beomgyu gives both of you a tight lipped smile, mainly aiming it at you and you return it kindly. i sure will.

beomgyu strides off to his room, leaving you and his father in the living room. “my beds quite comfortable but let me know if you need anything else,” he says, setting up the couch as his makeshift bed.

you look down at it. yeah, he’s definitely taller than the couch so it will be a bitch for him to sleep on that throughout the night. “i need you,” you shyly mumble. you hear him laugh a bit and look up.

he’s still wearing his work clothes except the white collared shirt has some buttons popped off and his pants have become wrinkled and baggy from wear.

you move closer to him and start to unbutton his shirt for him so that he gets comfortable. he looks between both your eyes and smiles. you almost tiptoe to reach his mouth but steps away for a minute.

“ill meet you there,” he says as he starts to set up the couch for himself. you hold back a frustrated sigh and soobin raises his brow at you. typical teen behavior.

“i’ll be asleep before you even get to the door,” you mumble impatiently. “i’ll surprise you then,” he says. “don’t be a brat.”

you roll your eyes, walking away from him to head to where you’ll be sleeping which is his room. he watches you walk away with a shake of his head. what will he do with you?

in the meantime, he sets up the living space to make it look like he was sleeping for a while in case beomgyu walks downstairs or something. he would make it look like he was sleeping and woke up to get something from his room, simple.

he didn’t even know why he felt the need to sneak around his son. he was an adult and could do what he wanted essentially. he sucks his teeth trying to not think too hard about it at the moment.

once he’s done, soobin knocks on his bedroom door lightly. while waiting for you to answer he looks around the hall. he can faintly see beomgyu's light still turned on and wonders for a moment what he could still be doing awake.

he doesn’t have time to ponder on it because all he wants is you right now. he narrows his eyes back at his door when a couple of minutes pass with no sign from you.

why is he even knocking, it’s his room after all? did he need an excuse to be here? that was the point of having you take his room instead so that he wouldn’t need an excuse to be near you because it was his room.

he opens the door slowly and peeks his head in. he’s surprised to see you sprawled out on his bed, not waiting for him but instead fast asleep. he thought you were bluffing about being asleep before he got there.

he fully steps in, eyebrows raised at the scene.

soobin closes the door lightly, contemplating whether or not to lock it, he opts for leaving it unlocked. the lights are off except for a nightlight by the bed that he uses when he can’t sleep and decides to pop open a book to read.

the glow of the light hits your skin in a way that makes you glow despite the darkness of the rest of the room. he can’t take it, if he does nothing now he won’t be in a good mood for the rest of the time that you’re here. now is your guys' only chance.

he places a knee at the foot of the bed, cringing at the squeak of the springs, fearing they might wake you up prematurely. he pauses and waits to see if you’ve awoken but sighs when you simply turn your head over.

“y/n~” he sing songs lightly. his fingers dance around your body as gently as possible. his eyes widen when he realizes you’ve put on a spare worn work shirt of his over your braless chest. “y/n~” he calls again. “why are you wearing this huh?” he plays with the mismatched buttons, popping them off one at a time leaving you topless and exposed.

you shiver when the cold air of the room hits your chest but try to shuffle yourself deeper into the warm sheets. “are you gonna wake up baby?” he shakes you but you only groan in response.

“you should wake up...you’re getting a little too wet to stay asleep for long, what will daddy do?” he hums while rubbing your panties. he visibly looks bored, as if he’s waiting for you to wake up so he takes it upon himself to speed up your waking up process.

he slides of your underwear with ease and tosses them aside. lazily he runs his two fingers up and down your folds a couple times before pushing them in you slowly to get adjusted to a slow pace.

he sighs at the warmth and the quiet wet sounds coming from you. “please wake up,” he half pleads. at that moment, you unconsciously clench around him and he bites his lip looking up at your face. your eyebrows are furrowed but you’re still asleep from what he can see.

do you think you’re having a wet dream? soobin rolls his eyes. if you would wake up you would see that it’s, in fact, real. “baby you should wake up before i start to...” he removes his fingers before he leans down and places his lips where his fingers were. tongue stroking your clit and simultaneously going in and out of your pussy skillfully, he starts to get a little too into it when you moan quietly from your "dream”. he allows himself to moan into your pussy, gripping your thigh harshly.

“at this rate..” he stops for a moment to catch his breath and breathes heavily on your sensitive skin. “you won’t need my cock,” he chuckles to himself, licking his lips of your cum.

he suddenly feels his pink hair being grabbed and when he looks up from below you, he sees your eyes are slightly parted. “no~” you whine softly, referring to his recent comment.

he says nothing witty to this, only happy to have you conscious again. maybe you planned this or maybe you really were tired, he doesn’t care anymore. “no?” he asks as he gets himself ready, positioning & aligning his cock with your entrance.

“did you know that somewhere during the end of the movie your skirt had risen up? did you do that on purpose to catch my son's attention or was that a sign? where you so needy that you wanted to give me a sign to fuck you right there? maybe you didn’t want my cock maybe you wanted beomgyu hm?” he pushes himself into you and you grab his arm for support. ok. he’s bigger than you thought.

your still half asleep mind can barely comprehend what he's saying either. is he jealous? you didn't realize your skirt came up but now you're curious to know if beomgyu was watching you instead of the screen.

soobin had gotten you ready while you were asleep and you thought you knew what to expect when you saw his cock but you weren’t expecting it to take time for you to adjust his size. you think you hear soobin mutter the word "tight" but you’re too busy trying not to die.

he goes slow at first, mumbling words under his breath in frustration. "you would open your legs for anyone that even resembles me in the slightest, that’s just what a slut you are." he rocks his hips forward expectantly and it leaves you stunned for a moment. "you would take my cock from behind while choking on beomgyu's how does that sound? maybe we could make it happen? but then again that wouldn’t satisfy someone like you, huh," he taunts when you whine. you want him to shut up so badly but at the same time, it only made your pussy throb against him at the thought. now that he placed the image of a threesome in your mind, you couldn’t shake it. it was wrong, so wrong on so many levels so why did it turn you on? you weren’t even attracted to beomgyu in that way! maybe you really were a whore just wanting to be filled up even if it meant with soobin plus his own spawn.

"shh, do you hear that?" he covers your mouth his cum drenched fingers, cutting off whatever sound you might produce from slowing down. at first, you don’t hear anything other than soobin's heavy breaths in your ear. after a moment, the faint sound of grunting hits your ears. it takes you a while to figure out what that sound is and where it could be coming from but when you recognize the low sounds your eyes widen as they stare back into soobin’s smug expression.

“they grow up so fast~," he sing songs. "see what happens when you tease? he probably caught a glimpse of your panties when your skirt rode up and he’s going just off that, poor kid." he frowns, he rocks his hips teasingly. you squeeze your eyes shut, there's too much tension right now. "i wonder how he would feel if he found out his dad was fucking his neighbor?" he bucks his hips up into you and thankfully his hand is still covering your mouth or you would’ve moaned loud enough for beomgyu to hear.

“daddy please," you beg, albeit a bit muffled. "please what slut?" "please fuck me please" you whine pathetically. you try to move your hips to gain some kind of friction but he stops you. "aren’t you afraid beomgyu might hear? it would be bad if he found out what we were doing right now."

you can feel your throbbing pussy going numb with soobin’s cock just sitting there inside you so you have to be quick witted and play with his ego. even though he was a grown man and father he was still just a man. "daddy please,” you moan. if you fuck me beomgyu won't disturb us after he hears how good you make me feel? and if he does he’ll just have to watch and see how it’s do-”

short gasps of air leave your throat as it’s all you manage as he sporadically slams himself deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot repeatedly. "stop thinking about beomgyu", you think he says. you’re not sure and you don’t care because at this point you’re too dazed to form a single thought. you for sure aren’t thinking about beomgyu, not with dick like this in you.

you think you hear beomgyu's pained gasp and chants of your name get louder but it could just be soobin. no, those breaths sound further away and deeper. you want to cry thinking about how beomgyu's deep voice would mix with soobin's lighter one. you can only imagine soobin’s grunts in your right ear as beomgyu whines in your left. it almost overstimulates you.

maybe beomgyu thinks both of you are asleep or perhaps you all are being so loud that no one can hear each other but you’re almost certain beomgyu is being painfully loud and obvious right now, as are you both.

soobin doesn't even try to hold back anymore as he leans up from his hovering position over you to hang his head back and full on moan when you clench around him for the last time. he pulls out and comes all over your stomach and chest, staining a bit of his shirt that you were wearing. you shudder at the feeling of being empty so suddenly.

"go back to sleep," he says, brushing his hand over your sweaty face. "don't worry, i'll clean you up and stay for a little while after."

the next morning is awkward, to say the least. seemingly all three of you wake up around the same time, soobin being the first one up to make breakfast for all of you. as you and beomgyu walk down the stairs together, beomgyu doesn’t bring up how he saw his father earlier walk out of his room after explicitly stating he would sleep on the couch or how he masturbated to you loud enough that he's sure you heard.

you’re only slightly at ease the beomgyu doesn’t mention anything about the sound levels of last night or the limp in your step.

you don’t remember much but you think it got to a point where you and soobin didn’t care much about how loud you were being and you were sure beomgyu heard.

you wanted to face palm at how this all turned out.

[whumpurr]

Adrien and Sawdust part 1

cw: pet whump (and everything that comes with that), whump recovery, past whump, emeto, disordered eating, unreliable narrator, 'it' as a pronoun

part 2

--

Adrien didn’t know what possessed him to show up to that sale. Maybe his house was finally too big for him, with it’s cold, empty, dark corridors and uninhabited bedrooms. He knew that he wasn’t looking for any sort of uncouth company, and he wasn’t searching for something to keep his bed warm. The days had blurred together enough that he’d decided to find something to space them apart, to mark each day from the next and to make life interesting again.

And he wanted to help someone.

So he wound up getting in his truck and driving away from his house, the skyscrapers of his fencing fading off into the rest of the woods that surrounded it as he put the wheels to the dirt and headed out.

Adrien was shocked to see that there were only a handful of cars and trucks pulled up to the sale. It was a lot less formal than he had expected as well. He had anticipated more of an auction type setting, in a building with rows of chairs and someone bringing the pets up to the stage to parade them around. He wasn’t too experienced in the matter, but he wasn’t thinking that it would just be the equivalent of a yard sale. The pets are mostly in cages, arranged haphazardly in the mud and grass. Some of the pets are curious, scarred fingers picking at fallen leaves or pebbles that they can reach through the bars of their dog cages. The pets that were not left in cages were either standing or kneeling down in the dirt. There were maybe eight pets, give or take. Adrien couldn’t account for ones he might not be able to see past people’s cars, boxes, and empty crate kennels.

The air had a little bite to it. Adrien was in a heavier jacket- not a full on winter coat- but the majority of the pets were dressed in tattered t-shirts and shorts, kneeling on the hard cage floor or on the cold ground. Adrien couldn’t help but feel his gut wrench as he looked on while people did their deals, talking to some of the ones Adrien could only assume were the sellers. People in simple black polo shirts, scattered about the scene, talking to customers who came in their casual clothes. It really was no big event to many of these people, but for Adrien, this was something he would likely only see this one time.

Welp.

Time to pick one.

Adrien shoved his fists into his jacket’s pockets, trying to look comfortable and blend in with the other patrons. He had been stuck at the entrance just staring for long enough to see a good number of the pets get snatched up by other customers. Adopters? Future owners? He didn’t know what the right word for it was. As dirty as this all felt, leaving a bad taste in Adrien’s mouth, he had only found the event through an ad on his social media. The fact that it would be pushed so casually made him feel even worse about being here.

He approached a cage that had a seller standing near it. The cage had been looked over and passed by a good number of times by the other patrons, and that piqued Adrien’s curiosity, as uncomfortable as he was.

“So,” He cleared his throat, glancing at the opaque plastic dog crate and the worker, “What’s wrong with this one?” He pointed his chin to the crate, trying to sound as gruff and uncaring as he thinks everyone in this event does. The worker looked down at a small clipboard they were carrying.

“This one was a rescue from a previous owner.” The worker stated. Right, rescue. Adrien remembered that the people running this whole even claimed they were ‘rescuers’ of pets. That being said, Adrien still recalled having seen a couple articles exposing them for being viciously cruel to pets while they were in their care.

“Right… And that’s an issue because?” Adrien pushed. The seller looked at him, first like he was stupid, but then with a sense of respect.

“That could mean the previous owner could want them back, at some point.” They put a hand on their hip, “Either you’re dumb or you’ve got a maximum security prison for a house. Speaking of, the old owner was arrested. Something about a dog fighting ring, and the pet’s here now. Got surrendered to us by the cops, they even gave us all it’s shit.” With that, they pointed a finger to a dirty blue duffel bag set next to the crate. “You want it or not?”

A quick look around the venue let Adrien know that most of the pets had been bought already. He hadn’t even gotten to look at this one, but he knew that if he waited much longer, it’d be snatched out from under him.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll take it.” He extended a hand and the paperwork was shoved into it. Listed were places to sign his name, and fill out his information, legally putting the pet under his name. He got to work on signing it. “How- how much is it?”

“Forty five bucks.” The worker said, nonchalant. Adrien’s seen dogs sell for more, much more. He pulled out his wallet and took out forty five in cash, putting it on top of the clipboard as he handed it back. “Thanks. Need someone to help put it in your ride?” The seller must have been asking as a courtesy, they looked like they already knew the answer as they looked up and down Adrien’s muscular body.

“No, thanks.” Adrien picked up the duffel bag first, putting it in the car before returning to grab the pet. Warily, he held onto the handle at the top with two hands, preparing to heave it up. With one solid pull, he almost sent himself flying backwards as the crate weighed maybe a third of what he was expecting. As he stumbled, he heard a small gasp from inside the crate.

Hurriedly walking over to his truck with long, striding steps, he put the crate down on the back seats, pressed against the back of the passenger seat. The metal grate of the front door was facing him as he peered into the dark cavern behind it.

In the cage was a small person, a pet, as he had expected. It had long, matted, brown hair, and deep brown eyes that stared wide at Adrien before diverting. The pet had on at least a shirt, from what Adrien could see. It was cramped in the crate, but even so, the pet pressed itself against the back wall to get away from Adrien.

“Okay,” Adrien sighed out, “I can see that this is all scary for you.” He shut the side door as softly as he could and got in the driver’s seat, turning the car on and turning the heat up. “I’m gonna take you home now. Might be a bit of a rough drive over the dirt, road’s not paved.” He didn’t know if he was talking to himself or to the pet. He didn’t know if the pet could even understand him, or if his voice was possibly freaking it out even more. He drove with the radio off, not wanting to spook the pet.

The drive home felt like it stretched on for ages, but Adrien was eventually greeted by the metal of the gate that surrounded his house, rising up like a series of spears from the earth, glinting in the sunlight that cut through the tree canopy. The worker wasn’t wrong when she assumed he must have some pretty extreme security around his house. He’d had an issue with a stalker before, and with the help of some heavy fencing, a handful of cameras, and some other measures, he intended not to repeat that experience.

The truck came to a stop in front of the house, having cleared the long driveway. Adrien shut off the car, hopped out, unlocked and propped open the front door of the home. He once again brought in the pet’s duffle bag first, then returning for the massive- but light- plastic crate. As he moved it, he could feel the pet trembling so hard that it rattled the cage.

“Shh, shh, you’re okay. I’m just taking you inside. It’s nice and warm in there.”

The cage was put down with a soft thud, Adrien leaving it in the entrance hallway, just before the hall opened out to the kitchen and living room. He undid the latch on the cage’s door, swinging it open.

“You can come out now. You’re safe.” He said in a soft voice. The pet simply trembled, eyes squeezing shut and backing up more against the back of the cage. Adrien took a few steps back, sitting cross legged a little ways away from the pet’s cage. The creature inside it shivered, keeping itself as far into the kennel as it could. Adrien couldn’t even get a good look at it.

“You must be hungry.” He sighed, standing up and taking the few steps he needed to to get into the kitchen. “I’ve got something, here.” He pulled out a box of colorful, fruity, sugary cereal, pouring some out into a bowl and sticking a spoon in it. Next, he went to the fridge,

“Do you drink m- ah.” He quickly came to realize that the pet probably wasn’t going to speak. Rather than risk it, he shut the fridge and set the bowl of dry cereal down in front of the cage, backing up again. A few minutes of frustrating stillness later, Adrien chose to give the pet some space, standing and moving out of the foyer and going into the living room.

“You can come out. That cereal is for you, I hope you like it.” He sat himself down on the sofa. ‘Would it- they? Would they be more comfortable with some background noise?’ Adrien wondered. He took up the television remote from the coffee table and put on a random channel, some kind of reality show. The volume was low, but it was enough for a soft chatting to fill the quiet. Adrien tried to keep himself busy with his phone, scrolling through social media, but he couldn’t stop himself from glancing back at the cage every now and again.

Slowly, gradually, Adrien managed to keep his attention focused on his little device, knowing that if the pet finally did decide to look out of the cage and caught him looking back, it would most certainly panic and retreat again. The room was relatively quiet, save for the sound of the television.

The pair of people on the show were speaking to one another. One man and one woman, and at their feet was a black dog. Adrien wasn’t really listening to what they were saying, but the dog barked. The only reason that that sound suddenly caught Adrien’s attention is because he heard it be repeated.

From behind him.

A dog’s bark came from behind him in the house, from the direction of the foyer. It was almost identical to the one on the television, and as soon as Adrien heard it, the very next thing he heard was a thunk and a rattling from the cage as he assumed that the pet must have moved too quickly or lurched back and hit its back or its head on the ceiling of the crate. Adrien spun around, throwing an arm over the back of the sofa to look back at the crate.

Back in the foyer, Adrien tried to not look too obvious as he stared as the pet inched out of the crate. It kept it’s head low, ever so slowly creeping out of the crate. He watched as he saw pale skin littered with marks and bruises, and light brown eyes, and long, matted brown hair that’d gone too long without care. Around its neck was a bright red collar with a golden tag. The pet’s skin was stretched tight over his body, the raised ridges of bones showing easily.

The pet was dirty, old mud caked on its body, smears of something all over its body, Adrien didn’t know if it was blood or more dirt. Despite that, there was something strange. Sat atop its head in pristine condition was a pair of fake dog ears on a hairband. They looked awfully realistic, but Adrien could see the black band that they were attached to. As the pet fully left the cage to investigate the food, Adrien could see something else, too. Its shorts were filthy and ill fitting, but around its waist through the beltloops of the shorts was a long piece of string. Hanging from it, over the pet’s rear, was a short, fake dog tail, again in perfectly clean condition.

Looking down to the pet’s hands, he saw that they were balled up. Over the small fists was layer after layer of duct tape, dirty and loose from sweat. If the pet wanted them off, Adrien’s certain it could easily pull them off with its teeth, but it makes no move to do so.

The pet lowered its- his, Adrien could see that now- head to the small ceramic bowl filled with colorful cereal. He sniffed it, then quickly pulled away, making a repulsed face. Immediately after his rejection of the food, his eyes went wide and he looked at Adrien, then instantly looked down, trembling.

“Hey, hey,” Adrien lowered the volume on the television and got up, going to the pet and kneeling down. The pet drew back, lowering his head down to the floor, forehead pressing against the wood. “You’re, ah, do you speak?”

“Wruf!” The pet let out another eerily realistic dog bark, though he kept his head on the floor.

“No, no, like… Words? English?” Adrien was kind of at the end of his rope, not quite sure what he should do. “And uh, you can sit up.”

The pet sat back on his legs. Adrien caught sight of the golden tag hanging from the red collar. ‘Sawdust’, it read.

“Sawdust? Is that your name?” Adrien asked. He wanted to reach out and hold the dangling tag so he could make sure he read that right, but he was certain that if he tried that, the pet would get even more scared. The pet glanced over to the side, nodding its head. “Okay, you understand me at least. Can you speak with words?”

--

“Y- Saw- Uh…” Sawdust stammered out, voice rough and looking as though he was on the verge of tears. “Sawd- dust can speak, sir.” He wanted to know why his new master would want his pet speaking to him, but he knew better than to question his owner.

“Okay, good, good. That’s good.” Master sighed, dragging a hand down his face. “Is there something wrong with the food?”

What little color was in Sawdust’s face immediately drained as he went pale. He couldn’t let his master think that he was ungrateful, lest he took away the food altogether. Sawdust looked down at the bowl of rainbow colored cereal.

“N-no, no, Master, thank you for the food.” Sawdust dropped back down onto his paws and knees, lowering his head and chest to the floor. He sniffed at the bowl again. It smelled sickly sweet, sugary unlike any dog food he’d been given, but the sound it made when it was poured and moved did sound like dog food. Hard. Crunchy. That was familiar at least. Maybe it was dog food after all?

“There’s a spoon in there,” Master spoke, his deep voice rattling Sawdust’s bones. “You can use that if you want.”

Sawdust’s breath caught in his throat. Was Master mocking him? Pets can’t use things like that, especially Sawdust with his paws. Was Master testing him? Sawdust hiccupped and swallowed down a whine, not wanting Master to see how upset he was. Instead, he buried his face in the bowl of dry, colorful dog food. He squeezed his eyes shut and tried to ignore how fruity it smelled, it smelled like things dogs weren’t allowed to have. He took some into his mouth. It crunched, but it was far easier to eat than dog food. It wasn’t as hard, it didn’t hurt his wounded mouth to chew.

Sawdust trembled. Did Master want him to be sick? That must be it. He hiccupped, tears threatening to roll down his cheeks as his stomach turned. He chewed and swallowed as quickly as he could, resorting to panting and breathing through his mouth to try to not taste the cereal as much. He took another bite.

He gagged.

“Buddy? Sawdust?” Master called. Master’s voice was soft, but Sawdust knew that he was faking it. Sawdust swallowed the bite in his mouth. This wasn’t dog food. He couldn’t eat this. Dogs can’t eat people food. His mouth was filling with saliva that he tried to swallow down, but his body wouldn’t let him. He panted, drool dripping down onto the floor as he pulled away from his Master. Goosebumps erupted across his body and he shivered, body rejecting the people food. With a heavy heave, he turned away from his master and threw up onto the hardwood floor.

[ziltoidcoffee]

Would Terry ask Mr. Miyagi's permission to marry Daniel? Would the first time they interact since kk3 be as awkward as I think it would be

(A+ prompt. I love this idea so much. 💙 Idk if below is what you wanted, but I was trying to think of how Terry would without being deceitful again.)

When Terry arrives at Little Trees, the store is still open despite the late hour. The doors are still wide open, inviting customers inside, and the old man is still at work, rearranging a group of pots near the window. His head is tipped down, focused on what he’s doing, and Terry wonders briefly if he will have to make noise to get his attention. But then Mr. Miyagi looks up from his collection of bonsai to gaze at Terry from across the room.

There’s no shock in his eyes, offering only a black, unreadable stare, and Terry thinks for a minute that the old man has forgotten him. He is rather old after all. Maybe he’s already senile. Then Mr. Miyagi tells him, “Daniel-san not here. Out with friends,” and his voice is as calm and collected as ever.

“I know,” Terry responds because he always knows where Daniel is. He hasn't let the boy out of his sight since they first met. Even after he betrayed him, before they got together, Terry still had someone follow him around.

It was initially because he was looking for Daniel’s weakness, some way to get back at him, but then his monitoring became watching and looking out for him. And maybe he was also a little paranoid. But anyone in his position would be afraid of someone stealing Daniel away. The kid was too perfect, too good for him. Still, Terry was selfish. He wanted him all for himself, whether he deserved Daniel or not.

He’d make that clear today with Mr. Miyagi. It’s the entire reason for his visit. Not that his answer even matters. Terry would do whatever he wanted anyway. He just knows Daniel would appreciate his asking, and there’s nothing better than a pleased boyfriend—soon-to-be fiance. Plus, Terry needs to know if he should prepare for battle. Mr. Miyagi took down John once. He is a formidable opponent, and no good soldier attacks without first knowing what’s on the other side. Daniel is worth fighting for, after all.

“Then why here?” Mr. Miyagi asks as he moves across the store, and there’s not even an ounce of concern in his stride.

Terry at least thought the old man would question his presence, considering the last time they saw each other. He doubts Mr. Miyagi approves of their relationship despite Daniel’s assurance that he doesn't care.

“I’m here to speak with you, alone,” Terry explains. “About Daniel.”

Mr. Miyagi finally shows some emotion, his eyebrows rising. “Daniel-san okay?”

Terry nods. “He’s fine,” he says; then after a pause, “More than. We are very happy.”

“I know,” Mr. Miyagi echoes his words back to him, and Terry is a little smug.

Daniel is such a chatterbox. He probably brags about Terry all day. It’s only fair when he has to listen to Daniel talk about Mr. Miyagi. Sometimes he even gets a little jealous of how often the old man comes up. But Terry gets to kiss those lips shut, and that’s worth enduring some ranting.

“Good. Then you should know I plan to stick around for a long time,” Terry tells him with a shrug, acting like he doesn’t care what the old man thinks.

But he feels his lips tug up in a smile when Mr. Miyagi nods and says, “If that what he want.”

What Daniel wants is irrelevant, Terry wants to argue. Only because he plans to convince the boy to marry him even if he has to ask several times. At least it would be a fun challenge. But he’s almost certain Daniel will say yes. Even if it’s not legal yet, Terry’s aware of the boy’s desire for a family, and marriage is the logical first step. Kids can wait a bit. He’s not that crazy. They’re still young, or at least Daniel is.

Terry crosses his arms over his chest. “Then you approve?” he asks.

Mr. Miyagi stares at him. “I only want Daniel-san to be happy.”

So does Terry. The old man is missing the point. “And if marriage makes him happy?” he asks.

A heartbeat of silence passes, and Terry’s heart pounds in his chest, something he wishes he could stifle. But his body can’t ignore his subconscious need for Mr. Miyagi’s approval. He doesn’t care what the old man thinks, but Daniel would likely never marry him if his “best friend” disapproves.

Finally, with a sigh, Mr. Miyagi picks up a bonsai in a blue wooden box and walks around the counter to hold the plant out to him. “If Terry-san makes Daniel-san happy, then Mr. Miyagi approve.”

Terry can't help but go still, shocked by the turn of events. But finally, he declares, "I will," and accepts the plant.

Mr. Miyagi smiles. "No tell Daniel-san you here."

Terry grins back. Maybe the old man is an ally and not the enemy he feared.

[dylansslutt]

firecracker: jj maybank

summary: your kie’s cousin, informed of it all, you meet the infamous jj maybank and lets say things were heated from the start

you walked onto john b boat as kie held a cooler in her hand. you sat down softly, pushing your sunglasses down.

“who wants a ‘juice box?” kie giggled, amused with her code name. you reached forward, yanking the drink out her hand.

“thank you.” you winked, cracking the drink open.

You’ve been here for about 2 weeks, usually coming down any break from school you got. Summer air surrounded the group as they began off.

You glance over at jj. He was very cute but highly irritated you. Dude thought he was cool cause he got in trouble, and fucked loads of girls.

For some reason you two did not click, can’t even stand being near each other. They tend to believe the other wasn’t there while they were around.

“JJ.” You call out, his attention now falling onto you. “I will throw you $10 to smoke with me, my head hurts.”

He shook his head, “no.”

You sat up with a glare, “what the fuck? I just offered you more for shitty ass weed, then what it cost. And you tell me no?”

“Yeah, and it’s not shitty! Thank you, I get it from my cousin. If you ever actually smoked it, you’d understand why it’s called cripple.” His eyes glaring back at you.

“Just fucking roll a joint! I’ll give you $20 fucking dollars.” You leaned down towards your bag, trying to receive the $20.

As soon as you pulled it out jj snatched it. “Fine. Only 1 though.”

You flip him the bird. Of course pulls this shit and takes $20 from me. I’m not like kie, my parents are not fucking rich with a restaurant business. I don’t have fancy shit, I work at her dads place.

My parents are on drugs which is why I’m down here for the summer. Cheaper for them to get the pills if they don’t have to raise me for a few months.

Fingers snapped I’m front of your face. “What you already high?” His annoying voice questioned.

You roll your eyes, “no I was thinking. Shut up.”

You grappes thé nicely rolled joint, you would never tell him but his weed is actually good.

You lit the joint and lay back, John b starting up a conversation.

Agatha really fucked up the place. You glance around at the group as they laugh at one of jj jokes.

In all honesty, jj was cute. Real cute, but was a asshole. Nevertheless, he managed to always have a girl under his arm.

Your head was still hurting but the weed helped. You passed off the joint to kie, her inhaling the smoke.

You looked up catching jj’s eye. You held your gaze, not letting him think he can just out state you. Everything always felt like a competition.

He finally looked away, you mentally declaring that as check 1.

—

Tonight John b and jj decided to throw a bonfire. Leading you to be sitting on a log, Jean shorts with a crop top on. You looked really fucking good.

Your hair was braided, fly always blowing with the wind. You were drinking with Pope and kie and a few tourons. You glance over seeing Sarah across the beach.

“Holy shit! Kie, look who it is.” I point her out.

She walks towards John b. “What the hell is she doing here?”

You giggle a little, “fucking looks.” You muttered.

Your cup was now empty. You started walking over towards the keg when someone calls your name.

“Is that y/n?” Your eyes found the horrible rafe Cameron. Every time you came down some how you ran into him, and let’s just say the guys fucking persistent.

“Oh yay, rafe.” Sarcasm dripped from your tongue. If auras are real, his was fucking black. Negative vibes all the way.

“How you been? You look good.” His eyes raked up and down your body. You step back as he takes a step closer.

“What? Don’t act like I haven’t seen you.” He spat.

You and him had a drunken make out, once when you were 15. Technically could be legally trouble because he was 18.

“Oh shut the hell up. That was one time, too long ago. You didn’t even see shit.” You pointed at him.

He laughed, he swayed for a second catching himself.

“You’re drunk. Leave me the hell alone.” You walk off turning back to the keg. You locked eyes with jj, him giving tou a confused glance. You roll your eyes, pulling a finger gun before you were pulled back.

“DONT sit here and disrespect me. You don’t live here, all your little buddies. Fucking felons, I can end yours and their lives. You understand.” His grip tightened.

You try pulling out of his grasp, “let me go!”

“I asked you a question.”

“She answered it.” A voice rang behind you. Rafe looking behind you.

“You heard her. She said “let me go.” JJ called out. Rafe let you go making you stumble back towards jj.

His hand found your lower back. “It’s alright, pogue. I got you next time.” His eyes stared into yours before he stumbled off.

“You alright?” JJ asked from behind me. You glanced back nodding, “he always does this everytime I get here. I guess he doesn’t like being rejected.”

You glance down at your arm, bruises forming. “Persistent motherfucker.” You wince as you touch it.

“If he tries to fuck with you again, let me know. I’ll handle his ass. Wouldn’t be the fucking first.” You glance up to his eyes.

You gave a small smile, “thanks. Not gonna lie I was a little scared back there.” You confessed.

He scanned your face, “guys that do that shit, are pussies.” He joked.

You laughed, “I think I need another beer.”

He pushed his cup towards you. “I just filled it. Go ahead.”

You thanked him. It went quiet for a second before you spoke.

“Why are you all of a sudden being nice to me?”

He shrugged, “ I don’t know. I can be a dick sometimes.”

“Sometimes?”

“A lot of times.” He confessed.

“Well don’t start being a dick again. I kinda like the nicer you.”

He laughed at that. “I think I might.”

“Might?” You pushed him jokingly.

“Okay’ okay! I will.” He surrendered.

[missdawnandherdusk]

Love Story

Draco X Reader

Request: @dracofeltonmalfoy​: your heart breaks at seventeen when you realize that Draco doesn’t love you enough to not marry his betrothed, Astoria. It’s years later and though you’re still hesitant and bitter about what occurred, you still answer the call that Ginny makes to you to help Draco. 

A/n: Look at me posting!! And during midterm week no less!! Thank you so much for this request! (I promise I’m getting to the rest of them). And can I say that I am in love with grown up Draco? Like yes ma’am I’ll take them all. Maturity is attractive. Let me know what you think! I love y’all so much. 

“You don’t understand,” Draco paced the small room. “I have to marry her,”

“Sure,” I spat. “Marry Astoria. I don’t give a damn anymore Malfoy,” I hadn’t used his last name in such a malice tone in years. I could see the effect that it had on him, his face fell.

“Don’t say that,” He begged softly, “Please, I love you,”

“But not enough,” I raised an eyebrow at him. “What happened to everything that we planned? All of the things you promised me? Where did that Draco go?” My voice became thick with tears. “No, you’re so paranoid about your reputation... I’m not waiting around for you to figure out who you want or who you want to follow. I don’t care.” A heavy silence and I had decided. “Have a nice life, Draco.”

“Y/n,” He called as I stood to leave.

“No,” I snapped. “Just... no. I deserve more than this.” 

“I know,” He confessed in a small voice.

That was the last time I spoke to Draco Malfoy in years. At first, I was okay with it. I felt free. I had moved on, found someone new that made what he did to me hurt a bit less. It wasn’t the same, nor what I felt when I was with Draco, but it was enough for the moment. He didn’t last long, and my heart still waited for Draco on some nights, but I had grown up. I had grown confident. I was independent. I didn’t need anyone to tell me they loved me because I loved me. And that was enough. I had healed from having to walk away or face being cut off forever.

I assumed that Draco was happy. His union with Astoria was in the paper. The invitation I received was burned. Why he’d think to invite me left me aggravated and loathing him more than before. But that night I was weak. I cried for Draco Malfoy that night. I almost went. But I refrained. I knew nothing would change even if I did go, so I’d rather be left wondering than left crushed.

The next time I saw Draco’s name in the paper, it was splashed across the front page. A scandal that Skeeter couldn’t wait to publish and get her hands on. Astoria Malfoy caught in an affair with Blaise Zabini. I saw Draco’s stoic face, and though the image moved, and the small child in his arms squirmed, he remained static. I threw the paper down because though it was just a photograph, his eyes still bore into mine, in the same pleading look that he gave me before I left him. I wonder if he knew that I see the photo.

I wonder if he knew that I still loved him even after all these years.

And I had no intention of crossing paths with him. Though I thought about it. A lot. And maybe I had actually written the letter before I burned it... but I decided that no. I was not interfering with his life.

I just never thought that he’d interfere with mine. Well, Harry interfered with my life. Well, Ginny did.

Ginny and I got lunch every once in a while, to catch up along with Hermione. Now that our Hogwarts days and the war was over, an amity fell between the three of us. And it was nice to see some old faces that didn’t cause my heart to rabbit trail into painful memories.

It was a phone call that I had gotten that interfered with my quaint Friday night. 

“Are you in town?” Ginny’s voice sounded strained and frantic.

“Yes, why?” I set down my book, standing.

“Can you come over? We... have a situation...” She voiced.

“What sort of situation?” I pressed, going looking for my shoes and cloak. “Harry just did a spell wrong and now he can’t speak English situation or Ron and Harry tried to do something stupid on their brooms and need medical attention sort of situation?” I teased lightly.

“It relates more to the former...” Ginny sounded almost hesitant to give me details. Her voice was suddenly far from the receiver and muffled. “No, Scorpius, put that down! Harry! No don’t encourage him!” That caught my attention.

“Ginny, what in Merlin’s name!?” I demanded.

“Please just get over here, you were better than we were at potions,”

“Ginny,” I baited.

“Thank you!” Was all she got out and I heard a crash before the line disconnected.

Utterly shocked and standing in deafening silence I let out a frustrated growl. After grabbing my carpet bag of miscellaneous counter curses, antidotes, and talismans I took the Floo network to the Potter’s.

And the sight before me was something that I would not have ever imagined. Draco was slung over Harry’s shoulder, looking intoxicated and completely out of it. Nothing like the cold refined man that I knew him to be. Then Scorpius was running around with Albus all trying to be corralled by James and Ginny while Lily laughed in the background, sitting on the counters.

Deciding that Harry could help with the children more than I could, I rushed to his side and took Draco off his hands, supporting him.

“What’s wrong with him?” I bit out, watching as Harry scooped up Albus as Ginny swooped in and caught Scorpius.

“Nothing, well, he’s been drugged but we’re sure it should wear off in a few hours.” Harry appeased, almost nonchalant.

“Drugged?” I demanded, leading Draco to a well-loved recliner.

“I’m finnnnne,” Draco slurred, his fine blond hair hanging into his eyes in a complete mess. “You have such pretty eyes Y/n,” Draco’s head lulled back against the recliner back as his half- opened eyes gazed into mine.

“Yeah, okay,” I smiled sweetly and gave an alarming look to Ginny—Harry having disappeared into the house with the three other children. “You’ve got to be bloody joking,” I hissed, nearing her.

“I know! Harry was filming him. You should have heard him on the way over. Wouldn’t shut up about you.”

“Get him upstairs.” I begged, exasperated and rubbing my face. “I’m going to find Harry.”

“What? Why?” Ginny’s eyebrows furrowed as she set Scorpius down now that he was calmed with the lack of the other children.

“Because no one makes fun of Draco!” I shouted, not realizing the depth of my words, or how much I sounded like I did back at Hogwarts... when Draco loved me.

Ginny and I both seemed to grasp this as I went red and sighed, going to find Harry. After throwing his phone out the third-floor window, I headed back down a level to where Ginny had taken Draco to a spare room. I found Draco asleep in the bed and Ginny leaning against the doorjamb.

“He’s still asking for you,” Ginny muttered. “He wants to know where the ‘fairest maiden has gone and when will she return’” She raised an eyebrow at me.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groaned, distressed. “How am I supposed to deal with him like this?”

“You probably know better than any of us.” Ginny pointed out. “Isn’t there a counter curse? Or something that you have or know?”

“In all my years I’ve seen nothing close to this. It’s like he’s drunk and on Veritaserum and Amorentia and believe me there is no legal potion out there with that sort of affect.”

“So... what do we do with him?” She asked.

“Wait it out? That’s all I know to do.” I paused. “I’ll stick around and make sure he doesn’t start to die or anything... but I can’t fix him,”

Ginny nodded and gave me a pity look. “Are you going to be okay?”

“That is not the question to ask right now,” I muttered, shrugging off my cloak. “Go on up to Harry and your little ones. Make sure Scorpius is alright, I’ll look after him,”

“If you need anything,” She baited.

“I’ll call,” I smiled.

Alone in the room, I sighed and stared at him before heading to the edge of the bed and sitting gently on the edge.

“Draco?” I asked softly, trying to hide the hurt that sparked in my chest. 

“Y/n, my fair maiden,” He slurred, trying to get up.

“No, no, you need to lie down,” I scolded, pushing him back down, pressing my hand to his forehead—he didn’t have a fever.

“As my lady commands.” He mumbled, causing me to withdraw my touch.

“Don’t.” I inhaled sharply. “You need to sleep Draco. You need to get better.”

“I’m already better with you here,” A dopey smile crossed his face.

“Oh my god Draco!” I snapped, standing, pacing the small room. “Stop saying things like that! You don’t mean them, and I don’t want to hear it!”

When I didn’t get a response from him, I looked over and he was fast asleep at an awkward angle. Sighing, I brushed the stray strands of silky hair from his face and slowly righted him, taking off his shoes and socks positioning him in the center of the bed. After I laid a blanket over him, I sat in the lone chair that was in his room and taking my book from my bag, started again.

It neared eleven at night, and he still hadn’t woken back up. My book finished, I sighed again and stood, stretching. Leaving his room, I saw Harry nodding off in his chair downstairs, Scorpius in his arms, also asleep.

“To bed with you,” I smiled, helping him up.

“Draco?”

“Still asleep.” I informed. “I’m gonna change and I’ll be back to watch him.” 

_______________________

Draco blinked, his head pounding, trying to keep up with the blurred image around him. The first thing he noticed was the blanket over him and his shoes were gone and that you were asleep in the chair next to his bed and this bed was most certainly not his—neither were you for that matter. His memory was fuzzy, and he didn’t remember much, and he didn’t like not remembering.

In an attempt to get up, he woke you, not sure why some part of him cared. He didn’t ask to be taken care of like a child. He processed that he was at the Potter’s for some godforsaken reason, and that you were next to him. Some part of him wished he was just having a really awful nightmare.

“Draco?” You asked sleepily.

Who else would it be?

“Yes,” He spoke quietly.

“Are you... you again?” You mumbled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He snapped, defensive that you were there, or anywhere near him. The nightmare continued.

“You were drugged... were acting weird for a while... I had to throw Harry’s phone out a window.” Your words made some sense... except the last part.

“Why would you do that?” He mused, enjoying your half-asleep state.

“He recorded you... was making fun of you... wasn’t right...” You stretched and rubbed your face yawning.

“I see,” There was a pang in his heart at your words. Something reminiscent in them. Maybe this wasn’t a nightmare after all.

You nodded and stood, staggering slightly. “How long have you been there?”

“What time is it?” You asked weakly. 

“Five in the morning,”

“Mhmm... twelve hours? Finished my book.” You gestured vaguely and yawned again. “M’gonna head back home.”

You started to walk towards the door and almost fell. He was there to catch you though. Your hands clutched at his shirt, running the fabric through your fingertips.

“Okay, yeah. You’re going to stay right here,” Draco muttered. “Because I am not dragging you down those stairs or back home.”

“I’m fine, I’ll get Ginny to take me home,” You yawned gesturing vaguely, your eyes still didn’t open all the way.

“No, you’re not. You’re sleep deprived, and whereas I can handle it, you can’t.” However long he had been asleep—twelve hours apparently—had given him enough rest to be completely awake and alert.

“You’re bossy.”

He chuckled at your sleep ridden words and moved you to his bed, tucking you under the blanket he had been under. You smiled and inhaled them deeply, relaxing instantly. He wondered why you thought of him as a reason to relax.

When he got up to leave, your eyes opened partly.

“Where are you going? You need to rest more. You were drugged.” 

“I’ve dealt with worse drugs Y/n,”

“Mmm I don’t think you’ve ever been like that. I’ve seen you high and drunk and that was... something else.” You mumbled. “Please rest Draco. Stay with me and sleep.”

Your words were like daggers to his heart. Were you aware that you were saying them? Surely you couldn’t be, because surely you wouldn’t ever mean them. It had been too long since you ever murmured those words.

“Am I not allowed to find to where my son has gone?” He mused, knowing you’d let him go for that and then be too far into sleep to notice that he didn’t come back.

You hummed in agreement he supposed. Just as he went to close the door, he heard you jumbled words again.

“Why would you say that?” There was hurt and confusion in your tone. “Why would you...?”

Not knowing whatever that was about, Draco closed the door softly behind him and sighed. He felt disgusting. He wanted nothing more than a warm bath and some fresh clothes and for Merlin’s sake a comb. But those things would have to wait, because bright blue eyes blinked up in the early morning as they always did.

“Good morning my little birdie,” Draco smiled, pulling Scorpius into his arms. “Quite a change of scenery here isn’t it?” He mused, to a nodding giggling Scorpius.

“Draco, you’re awake,” The tired voice belonged to Ginny, who sounded surprised even in her weary state.

“I am,” A quiet pause. “Thank you... I’m not quite sure what happened last night but...”

“Do you have any memory at all?” Ginny asked, taking out a jar of applesauce, setting a bowl and spoon for Scorpius.

“I... no. I was at the Gala, next thing I know, I wake up and Y/n is asking if I’m me again,” Draco thanked her and began to spoon feed Scorpius the apple puree.

“Are you, you?” Ginny asked, leaning against the counter before setting off to brew a pot of coffee.

“Quite,” He clipped. “What does that even mean? What happened last night?”

Unbridled terror set in Draco’s chest as Ginny recounted the night back to him. The only thing that kept him from breaking something was the toddler in his arms, clinging to him.

“I... I was asking for Y/n?” Draco asked, his voice shaking.

“Honey, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say even intoxicated and drugged, you knew she’d be there for you,” Ginny raised her eyebrow at him. “You wanna explain that?”

Draco shot her a cold look and went back to aiding Scorpius eat. Maybe that had been why you asked why he would say something like that... and that was a valid and honest question: why would he? He had gotten over you. That was that. He moved on.

Not that he loved Astoria. No, he could never see her as more than someone who drove you away from him. And perhaps that was the reason behind her affair. Maybe it was because she knew that he didn’t love her, and she didn’t love him. Some part of him wished that she had just been honest with him... then it wouldn’t be such gossip in the Wizarding World. They could have divorced and gone on their own ways. But perhaps not. The marriage was arranged. It would take more than a divorce to end it. Perhaps the scandal was for the best after all.

“Thank you for your hospitality, but I’m afraid I have to go,” Draco said softly. 

“Draco,” Ginny chided. “You can’t just leave her here,”

“I can do as I please,” Draco snapped harshly before remembering himself. “Thank you, once more,”

Draco only hesitated when he went to fetch his shoes from the spare room, and caught sight of you sleeping soundly, a soft smile on your face. Something in his chest distorted a bit more.

_________________________

I woke in the late morning, semi remembering why I was at Ginny’s, then it all came flooding back. I didn’t even have to ask where Draco had gone because I knew he had gone. I knew he’d leave at the first chance he’d get.

Apologizing and thanking Ginny, I headed back home to shower and don clean clothes. Ginny gave me a worried look and said to call if I needed anything. I assured her I was fine and wasn’t going to have an emotional breakdown. Crying while I showered meant nothing.

I was fine.

Monday at work, Harry found me in the staff room fixing a cup of tea.

“You’re going to have to talk to him eventually,” Harry nudged my shoulder as we stood at the mini coffee bar, not even having to specify who he thought I should speak to.

“I’m not gonna follow him around like a lost puppy Harry, I’m done with that.” I shifted the weight on my feet. “He’s grown, he can handle himself,”

“Well I get that, but you can... act human at least. You’re shutting him out completely.” Harry pointed out. “And I don’t think either of you want that,”

“I wouldn’t know what he wanted,” I sighed in vain. “It’s not that easy Harry,” I pressed, cradling my mug in my hands. “I haven’t worried about him before, why should I now?”

“Because when he was drugged all he could do was ask for you and you dropped everything to make sure he was alright and slept in a chair for a night to keep an eye on him?” Harry raised an eyebrow.

“And maybe it was the drug and maybe I’m a decent person,” I refuted.

“All I’m saying I’ve been his work partner for a better half of five years and I’ve never seen him like this. He’s shutting everyone else out since the affair... everyone but you,” Harry’s green eyes reaffirmed his words.

I stared at my tea and didn’t say a word. I didn’t want to believe Harry’s words. I didn’t want to entertain the idea that maybe there was something left between Draco and I. But no matter how much I didn’t want to, I still thought about it all day during work, despite my best efforts.

How fitting it was that it was raining as I stepped onto the London street. Typical of London, no doubt, but it seemed as a sign all the same. Going to cast a shielding charm I froze when I saw in my peripheral pale skin and near white hair. I tried not to pay him any mind, but it seemed that whatever intentions I had were stopped by the words Harry had said earlier. My eyes wandered out to the city streets as rain started to fall slightly harder.

“Y/n?” Draco called my attention, his use of my name barely having any life in it.

“Yes?” I tore my attention away from the view.

“It’s raining,”

“Stellar observation,” I commented, remembering my shielding charm, creating an umbrella over me.

“Perhaps you would like to get out of it?” His voice was hesitant. “I suppose I do owe you for Friday night,”

That caught my attention and I finally turned to look at him. His was reserved, guarded. Yet there was something in his eyes that he couldn’t hide. A hope. A wish. A fantasy that I had written myself out of.

“You don’t owe me anything,” I finally whispered.

A sad sort of smile played at his lips. His eyes still didn’t leave mine as if we were transfixed on another, the stars wishing us to remain connected.

Screw the stars.

“Have a nice evening,” I ushered out before Apparating back home.

It was that night that I gave in. For the first time in almost ten years I gave in. There was a small fabric box tucked into my closet, collecting dust. Green and black with silver engravings. Tears streaming down my face, I sat on my bedroom floor and opened it.

It was every letter he wrote me. I should have burned them long ago, but I never did.

~

My Dearest, Y/n,

In the midst of this darkness, you are the only light I need. I’d face a world full of demons for the sake of you, my angel. I know it is dark now, and this path isn’t ideal, but I will fight for you, I will fight with you. Stand by my side my dearest angel. Be the fairytale maiden in this narrative and let me be your hero. I’ll never leave you, my love. And when morning light comes, I shall be in your arms again and my world will be complete.

Look after my heart, I’ve left it with you, 

Your Draco

~

My Beloved, Y/n,

Do you know what my paradise would be? You and me, away from it all. Free and able to love and live freely. Rainy days and warm cups of tea. Even without a fire to keep us warm, the warmth of your smile will keep me from freezing even on the coldest night. And though it may be nothing more than you reading a book or watching the sun rise, you’d be my goddess, the reason I existed, the one that I praised and prayed to each morning and evening. My paradise would be you and I, in a heaven of our own when I could worship you in every way, in every language known to man.

Your Draco

~

My Darling, Y/n,

How this summer grows longer with every day that passes. I wish that I weren’t away in Paris having to accompany my parents. I’d much rather be in your arms. And each night I watch the stars and the moon, knowing that you are doing the same. We are watching the same moon after all, no matter how far apart we are. That gives me more hope that you are true, and not a dream that I’ve let run wild.

And just as the night that I could not see the moon because of the clouds, I know that even now, though I do not see you, I know you are still there and that you still love me. You are my moon, my darling. You are my stars, my night sky. You hold every bit of majesty and wonder as they do.

I shall be back soon my love, 

Your Draco

~

Though the pile of unread letters was still tall, my vision was blurred by tears and heart wrenching sobs that broke from my chest. Hugging my knees and hiding my face in my arms, I wept. For the first time in years, I let myself mourn Draco Malfoy. For the love that I had for him. For the love that we shared. For the boy I knew in Hogwarts and for the man I resented. For the Draco Malfoy that called to me while drugged and inebriated. For the Draco Malfoy who had tried to make amends. For the Draco Malfoy I had turned down.

I mourned the girl in the mirror as well. For her broken jaded heart. For the years she spent alone and in denial. I mourned the girl who would still do anything for him if he’d only ask. I mourned the girl who was tired of trying to be strong on her own. I mourned the girl who craved companionship even though she was confident in herself.

I cried for the lovers in the letters. I held them close to my chest and cried. Tears dripped off of my cheeks and onto the faded aged parchment. Senseless words left my lips as I tried to rationalize these emotions. As I tried to make sense of this feeling—something that I had neglected for too long.

The hour was late as my fire burned lower and lower in my hearth. I sat curled up under a blanket on the floor with a mug of tea. Watching the flames, I let myself reminisce about the past. About Draco. About what could have been. A small smile lingered on my lips as gentle tears fell occasionally.

The rest of the week, I didn’t run into Draco. Not that I sought him out. Or that our departments ever crossed. Or that I cared.

I did however run into a former Malfoy in Diagon Alley a week after having to babysit Draco. 

“Astoria,” my voice was calm and gentle as rage lurked beneath.

“Y/n,” she seemed almost happy to see me as she came forward to hug me. My cold step back stopped her, her eyes finding my judgemental gaze. Her demeanor changed. 

“Of all the people I know, I thought you’d understand,” her voice was guarded and hurt.

“Thought I’d understand?” I nearly gasped, surprised at my anger towards her. “I know Draco like I know my own mind. I hope you’re happy because you’ll never find someone that trusting and kind again.” Our glares combatted another as tension grew between us.

“You walked out on him same as I did.” She accused. “Who do you think had to pick him up from that?” Her words were sharp as I took a breath in.

“I walked away because he had to marry you!” I snarled. “I’d never walk out on him if I had another choice!” We were starting to draw attention of passersby. I didn’t really care. “I chose his happiness over mine,”

“Oh really?” She didn’t seem convinced.

“I chose your happiness over mine, even.” I realized. “He had to get married. He had to marry rich. A pureblood. Someone his parents approved of. He desperately wanted their approval...” my voice fell as the memories came flooding back. “That made him happy back then, doing what he thought was right...”

“You should be thanking me then!” Astoria exasperated. “I gave him his happiness!”

“Are you serious?” I demanded. “You broke his heart! You left him with a child alone! You publicly humiliated him! In clearing your name from the Malfoy’s you’ve ruined his life! And you think he’s happy now!?”

“How about we ask him?” She countered; her gaze fixed on someone in the distance.

I whirled around, meeting curious jaded blue eyes as he strolled down the lane. 

“Draco,” The soft gasp left my lips.

“What’s the meaning of this?” His voice was calm despite the firmness it held as he addressed me, not Astoria.

“Nothing,” I answered softly. “It’s nothing,”

“Sure, defend his honor and call it nothing,” Astoria sneered.

“You don’t get to talk,” I snapped, turning back to her. “You’ve done enough.”

“Y/n,” Draco chided softly, taking a place beside me. “I can handle this,”

“Draco,” I argued, looking up at him only to be silenced by a steady pleasing gaze from his eyes.

“Astoria,” He finally greeted, and I could see his guard go up. There was a warning in his single word and something passed between them.

“Draco,” She nodded then turned to leave without another word. He went to leave as well, and I caught his arm.

“Draco, hang on,” I called.

As he faced me, a sadness lingered in his eyes. I wondered about Harry’s words and how he was shutting everyone out. Everyone but me.

“If that offer is still open...” I tested. “I’d love to get out of the rain with you,”

Calculations ran through his eyes and I could see each one. For a moment I thought my request was a lost cause. That he was about to turn me down as I turned him down not a few days ago. Our eyes locked and the stars seemed to draw us back together. Now... now I felt something different. Something new in my heart towards Draco. It wasn’t what it had been before, but something morphed, changed, unyielding.

“Alright,” He nodded with a sigh.

“If you don’t want to... you don’t owe me anything Draco,” I rushed out, taking a small step back.

“Publicly defending my honor might count for something,” He mused softly. “Shall we?”

“I think I mentioned tea,” A soft chuckle left my lips as we entered Florean Fortescue Ice Cream Parlor.

“This is a favorite of Scorpius’,” Draco murmured. “I’ve grown accustomed to it...” He paused. “You used to like it as well,” A small smirk lingered on his face. “Has that changed?”

“No,” I admitted, flushing a bit pink.

“Butter pecan, waffle cone?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Waffle bowl,” I amended. “I’m not a child,”

“Oh, I’m sure,” He let out a soft laugh and ordered for the two of us. He hadn’t changed either, he still chose mint chocolate chip in a sugar cone.

“So, where’s Scorpius, he’s not old enough for Hogwarts, is he?” I asked as we sat at a small table outside.

“Merlin, no,” Draco chuckled. “He’ll be six in January, and at the moment he’s with my mother. She watches him while I’m away at work,” He said in a matter-of-fact tone.

“How’s he doing with—um...” I asked timidly,

Draco’s smile sobered as his gaze dropped to the table to the used napkins that had gotten the stickiness off of our hands and left colorful wrappings from the cones.

“Or not,” I whispered. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. It wasn’t my place,”

“Still the apologetic I see,” A sad sort of smile hit his lips. “And he’s taking it hard... harder than I am, I think. I knew she didn’t love me... I don’t think he ever understood it all...”

“I’m so sorry,” I offered.

He shot me an amused look.

“I mean it,” I insisted. “It’s not fair for either of you...” 

“Thank you,” Genuine gratitude held in his voice.

“Oi, Malfoy! Lunch ended twenty minutes ago!”

I heard a familiar voice and turned to see Harry walk into the small shop. As soon as Harry saw me sitting across from Draco, his demeanor changed and a grin grew on his face as if to say: ‘I told you so,’ but to which one of us I wasn’t sure.

“Hi Y/n,” Harry said cheerfully.

“Not a word, Potter,” Draco and I said simultaneously before catching the other’s gaze. Harry and I began to laugh, and I heard the gentle sound of Draco’s true laughter—something he rarely did, even when I knew him, but I cherished the sound all the same.

“I’m glad you two got to catch up, I am, but Draco, Mulligan has my arse because you’re missing,” Harry air-quoted the last word.

Sighing, Draco stood. “Y/n,” Was all he said as a goodbye before he and Harry set off.

I sat and stared at the empty space he left for a while, wondering what was going on between us. Was something going on between us? My heart said yes but my mind said no. I had forfeited the right to have anything with him. I walked away.

But still I wondered.

The next morning my phone kept chiming. Again, and again it wouldn’t stop with notifications and calls. I groaned and grabbed it off my beside table and squinted at it. A lot of the notifications were from friends and people I rarely talked too. One of them was from Ginny. I opened that one.

“How was your date?” It read and showed a picture of Draco and me at the ice cream parlor yesterday. We looked happy. The headline read:

Malfoy Moving On? Head Auror Caught with Old Classmate Sweetheart After Scandal

Then it dawned on me. This made the news. National news.

Scrolling through my phone, I found a number that I had but never called before. I had gotten it from Harry and Ginny long ago for emergences if Harry got injured on a case. I don’t think he knows I have it.

“Hello? Auror Malfoy,” A slightly tired voice answered, and it drew a smile on my lips before I remembered why I called.

“Draco,” I began, not knowing how to start this conversation.

“Y/n? How did you get my number?” In his weariness his tone was a lot harsher and blunt. His words stung.

“Harry gave it to me in case I needed it if something went wrong on one of your cases,” I explained softly. “I can delete it if you want... I was just wondering if you’ve seen this morning’s paper yet,”

“I have not,” He replied.

“Oh,” Anxiety grew in my chest. “Call me when you do?” I squeaked out. “Or don’t. Yeah, bye,” I quickly hung up and screamed at the ceiling, throwing my phone across the room. “Stupid Draco Malfoy!” I shouted at no one. Staring at the ceiling I wasn’t aware of how long I sat there.

Then my phone started ringing across the room. Of course, it was Draco.

“Hello?” I answered timidly.

“When can you be at the Manor? We need to talk,” Nothing scared me more than those four words.

“I—uh... half an hour?” I fumbled for words. “Draco—” The line disconnected. “Draco!” I yelled in frustration.

My body trembled as I got ready, knowing that that last time we had “talked” had ended our relationship and set us on different paths. I hoped to the stars that that wouldn’t happen again. I... I liked having Draco in my life. I wanted to be there for him, because according to Harry, I was the only one he would let in. Then there was the matter of whatever happened the night he was wasted and calling for me.

Taking the Floo network, I stepped into Malfoy Manor—a place I hadn’t been in over ten years. Draco was waiting for me in the grand foyer, appearing quite unkept, his hair a rumpled mess and his dress shirt still untucked, the tie hanging loosely around his neck.

“Hello,” I offered softly.

He hummed a greeting and motioned for me to follow him. I thought that I was going to throw up with the amount of anxiety bubbling in my stomach. I didn’t like this at all.

Leading me into the grand kitchen he nodded to the island bar where two mugs of tea had been set out. My heart panged as I looked at the warm liquid that held the right hue of creaminess and I wondered if Draco remembered how I took my tea after all this time.

“I’m having Mulligan and Granger take care of it,” was all he said as he took a careful sip of his tea, his gaze fixed upon the newspaper on the counter before us.

“Take care of it?” I pressed, frowning.

“The photos. The newspapers.” He filled in.

“No, I get that,” I almost rolled my eyes, “But why? It’s just gossip...” 

“Why?” Draco almost snapped. I looked to my tea ashamed. He took a breath. 

“Do you regret it? Yesterday?” I barely spoke.

“Why would I?” He acted if I were the insane one here, “We went out. We enjoyed each other’s company. It was fine.”

“Then why would you tell Mulligan to— “

“I didn’t.” He stopped me. “He told me he was doing it. He was supposed to have stopped it from ever happening.”

“You knew. You knew this was going to happen,”

“Yes, or something like it, and I tried to stop it. The press has been... unforgiving of my name and business as of late and I didn’t want to drag anyone else into it,”

I nodded and looked down till I heard him sigh.

“Especially not you,” He tacked on.

“What?” My sleep deprived brain was trying to catch up.

Draco pursed his lips and stared at the photo of us smiling at another on the front page.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that I have forfeited the right to ask anything of you or hope to include you into my life in any way,” Melancholy riddled his words and my heart fell as I yearned to reach out for him.

“So, you’ve been avoiding me?” I didn’t understand the frustration I felt. “I... You—God above Draco.” I hissed. “Why don’t you let my make that choice myself? I forfeited that right just as much as you did,”

“I don’t see how,”

“I walked away from you... I made that choice.” 

“But did you have a choice?” Draco countered softly.

I didn’t have a response for that. Not a good one that I could defend well. Sure, I could claim I did and that I made the choice... but back then, our hands were tied. There was fear and war and uncertainty, and perhaps I didn’t have a choice after all.

He spoke before I had the chance to form a sound argument.

“As you know work with Harry as well.”

“Yes,” I acknowledged.

“And that a week ago Friday was a bit of a disaster for the both of us,”

“Wouldn’t be one of my least favorite nights, but a disaster... sure.” I drawled, raising an eyebrow. He ignored my taunt and pressed on.

“Harry suggested that I take you out to make it up to you. Hence the invitation that one day and then our date yesterday,” His explanation made me pause.

“That was a date?” I asked, anxiety growing in my chest of where this could go.

“I mean... it fit all the perimeters of a date.” He was testing the waters as much as I was.

I let out a short laugh.

“I suppose it did,” I nodded to the paper in front of us.

“He also said that perhaps I shouldn’t have to be inebriated to figure out and express my emotions toward you—or anyone for that matter,” He tacked on, a mumbled mess.

“I... you—”

“You asked me why I would say something like what I said,” Draco gave, pressing on, not giving me a moment to process. “I doubt you remember it—you were half awake—but... No matter how much I’ve lost the right and privilege, I want you in my life, Y/n. Apart of it, if you’re willing,”

They talked about time freezing around you and how everything comes into focus. And that there are moments when all of the heartache and pain will one day count for something, and perhaps this was it. This was that moment. That point that I could make all of the pain and tears mean something beautiful. Something not quite new, but no longer old and forgotten.

“I... I want you in my life too,” I whispered the confession. “It’s... it’s really nice... to have you back,” My gaze dropped to the counter and the tea in my hands as guilt pierced through me.

“Can... can you ever forgive me? For all the hurt and pain I’ve caused you? Have I done too much that there’s no hope?”

“I... I never blamed you.” I admitted. “Or if I did, I don’t now. But Draco, we’re both different people now. I... I need your patience. Because as much as I want to say yes, I... I don’t know. I don’t know what hurts are going to come back up or what scars might reopen... If you’re willing to deal with that...”

“If you’re willing to deal with the rumors and gossip and stuffy life that I lead... I’ll wait a thousand lifetimes for you to be ready again,”

________________________

The kindness and forgiveness in your eyes brought him back. Way back. To the Yule Ball when you had been introduced to him. It was a dance of formalities and posture. He knew that you were a bit of a flirt, but after spending time with you, he could see that your bright over-friendly personality earned you such a reputation.

When Draco was younger, when he was at Hogwarts, when you were by his side, he thought he knew three things that would never change.

The first was that he was a Malfoy. He had to marry rich, marry whoever his parents picked out for him. There was no debate about that. It was the way things were. Keep the pureblood line going and the wealth in the family, if not expound upon it. He was the only son of his parents and it was his duty to carry the name on, carry it higher. He was a Malfoy.

The second was that as soon as he saw your face, that all changed. There was no one quite like you. He had never met anyone who matched him heart and mind and yet somehow you were kind and gentle at the same time. Your intelligent eyes that made him forget his name. He knew there would never be a day that he didn’t love you. That freedom you gave. He loved you.

And thirdly: he was betrothed to Astoria Greengrass.

That was about a decade ago. Now, only one of those things held true. Blinking away the memories and thoughts, he met your intelligent determined eyes once more. Everything came crashing down around him. The truth.

Draco didn’t have to marry rich. He had and the girl he married had an affair with another man and he was free from the obligation. He was no longer engaged to Astoria. He no longer had to entertain her listless petty stories or her frivolous shallow needs. He had a son. That kept the family name going, that kept the pureblood line alive.

But Draco still loved you.

And God damn him if he wouldn’t find every way to express that to you.

Maybe that was the reason behind his further actions. It was the reasoning behind why he reached out to you, stroking your face softly as he did long ago. He caressed your cheek as if it were precious marble, a sculpture given to him by the gods.

And for the first time in ten years, Draco didn’t have to fantasize what it would be like to kiss you again. He didn’t have to desperately cling to how your lips felt against his. He didn’t have to deny how much he missed you.

Frozen under his touch, Draco worried that perhaps this was something he should regret. That he should stop. That he should deny still.

But your hand came up slowly, not to push him away but to hold him close as he held you, cradling his face as if he were the most precious thing to you. Your fingers curled into his hair, causing the butterflies in his chest to set flight. Your soft sounds were met with his steady purrs.

His tongue danced with yours in a forgotten waltz. Even after all this time you still tasted the same: sweet, alluring, and faintly like chai.

But you pulled away all too soon for his liking.

“You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Malfoy,” A smile curled on your lips.

“‘Til death do we part,” He jested lightly, earning a slight giggle from you as you pulled away and rebalanced yourself on the barstool.

“So... are we doing this? Like actually doing this?” You asked, fear lurking in your voice.

“I will do everything I can to make this right. To do this properly. To give you what you deserve,” He couldn’t quite understand why you laughed this time.

“I know you love your rules and traditions, but Draco I don’t need any of that and I don’t want any of that. I just want you. To get to know you again. To get to know Scorpius. I want my friend back,”

The desperate plea in your voice mirrored in your eyes and maybe he understood you a bit better and maybe himself, because he wanted that as well. He wanted you in his life. Woven into it. And possibly the first step to having that, was to get to know you again.

So, he would wait. He would learn. And he would love you till his dying day. 

“That would be enough,” Draco smiled softly and took your hand into his.

A few months of dates and quiet nights and lunches together in the break room and the rumors in the papers seemed to fade and the shock value seemed to wane to others. But Draco was still amazed that you decided to stay by his side. That you let him back into your narrative. That you completely adored Scorpius more than his own mother ever did.

As you crouched beside Scorpius and a peacock on the Manor grounds as the three of you took an evening stroll, the smile you gave him made him believe that the past ten years were nothing but a terrible dream. A trial to prove that he had earned this reward.

Though you had asked for patience, it turned out that he needed some as well. Draco had no idea how deep seeded the betrayal from Astoria and his supposed best friend affected him. There were times that he grew angrier than he meant to. There were times he was harsher than he wanted to be. There were times he was more distant than he needed to be. There were times that he was more reckless than he should be.

And there were times when something lingered in your eyes that he didn’t quite enjoy. Fear, or hesitancy. There were new boundaries that you had, and he had learned to respect. You weren’t the same girl he knew at Hogwarts. You were independent, confident, self-made, but still kind and gentle. You didn’t depend on him for everything. You didn’t lean into every touch. You didn’t smile at every jest. His perspective of you changed, and he loved every change made.

A weekend when Scorpius had gone to his parent’s house in Paris for a weekend was the night that Draco truly felt alone for the first time in a long time—since you had been back in his life. As the hour grew later, he paced his study, debating on going to see you, knowing well you’d still be awake.

As the ghosts of his past came to life and overpowered your gentle voice in his mind, Draco was decided. Drawing his wand, he apparated straight to you.

“What in Merlin’s name!?” You demanded, wand drawn, looking frantic, only relaxing when you saw that it was him.

“I... couldn’t sleep. Everything is...” His voice was small, like a frightened child.

You lowered your wand as he stood in the doorway of your bedroom. Running a hand through your hair you sighed softly. He knew he was asking a lot—too much even. It had been a boundary of yours. You weren’t ready to sleep with him—innocently, not sensually—yet.

“Well, come on then,” You smiled softy, sliding over in your bed. “Just like old times,” His memory flickered back to the sleepless nights in the dorms at Hogwarts behind drawn drapes.

“This isn’t me trying—” Draco started, not wanting to push your boundary. He’d sleep on the couch for Merlin’s sake. He just wanted to be near someone who cared for him.

“I know,” You replied softly, reading him like an open book, as you were always able to. 

“And I don’t—”

You rose from your bed, going over to him.

“Still trust me?” You whispered, your hands running up his arms, earning a shudder from him.

Draco nodded; his gaze transfixed on you. He knew what the question meant. It had been a routine of yours at Hogwarts. When he couldn’t seem to get a grip on the day and came to you at night, you were always there to care for him.

And you were there now.

Slowly you unbuttoned his shirt, leaving it to the floor. Going over to your dresser, you pulled out one a shirt that he recognized as his and placed it in his hands. He gripped the fabric tightly.

“You kept this?” His eyebrow furrowed.

A shrug left your shoulders as you neared your dresser again, opening another drawer. “Cotton or fleece?” The question was soft.

“Cotton,”

“I have flannel?” You offered, pulling out a pair of plaid sweats.

“That’ll do,” Draco smiled as you handed him the pants; he gripped them tightly as well.

“You’re safe,” You encouraged, stroking his cheek. “No one’s going to hurt you. No one expects anything of you. You’re alright here... You’re with me,”

“You knew I was coming,” It wasn’t an accusation.

“Eventually, yes. You hate nights alone.” The warmth of your eyes was intoxicating. 

“I prefer it when you’re here,” He admitted.

“Then go change and we can get some sleep, yeah?”

That night had been quiet. It had taken some time, but eventually you laid in his arms, holding onto him as he held onto you. Silent tears fell for the both of you—of fear and acceptance and a new beginning. A step forward.

..........

Draco paced the floor, keeping a close watch to his temper as you arrived, looking confused and worried. And with the scarce information that he gave to you, it was well placed. Without a word—fearing that it might not be a kind one— he led you into the den, to where Scorpius was sitting on the couch, looking guilty and repentant.

“Scorpius,” Draco’s voice was concise and controlled. “Would you care to explain exactly what you told me to Miss Y/n?”

Some anger leaked through. A gentle hand on his shoulder reminded him to find calmness. A gentle smile on your face appeased and welcomed Scorpius as he began to speak.

“I... well... mother left. And papa had these letters... I found them and...I didn’t know who she was... but I thought—” the young boy stammered. “Father always has potions on hand down in his study... I thought that—if I just... he could be happy again,” Scorpius’ voice broke as he started to cry.

Your face crumpled softly, and Draco could see that you yearned to reach out to Scorpius and gather him into your arms but you refrained.

“So, you’re the one who drugged Draco,” You understood his son’s words, not nearly as upset as Draco had been because something else held your attention. “You kept my letters?” You seemed baffled. “All this time?”

Draco scoffed and his face remained stoic, but his cheeks tinged pink, affirming what you had said. And possibly it was the right thing to call you over to deal with this because with calmness and kindness that he never could find, you reprimanded Scorpius.

“Do you understand how dangerous that was?” You scolded. “Potions are not something to be played with or mixed. You could have really hurt your father.”

“I know,” Scorpius cried out, tears falling. “But—he... I thought I could get some answers. Find out who he loved—”

Your eyes met his with wonder and curiosity. There was no escaping that one. Draco wasn’t sure he wanted to avoid it.

“Okay,” Draco pinched the bridge of his nose, his face folded into a pained expression. “We’ll talk about this later young man, now go start your studies.”

“Yes sir,” Scorpius nodded and disappeared into the house.

“Draco don’t be hard on him,” You pleaded, reaching out to him. “He’s just a kid,”

“I know,” Draco sighed, taking your hands. “That’s why I called you. I knew you’d handle it better than I ever could.”

“I’m not his mother, Draco,” You reminded him softly. “I don’t have authority here,”

Draco held his tongue before he really did ask you to be Scorpius’ mother but Merlin he wanted to. And maybe you could see that in his eyes because you looked down, flushing.

“He does seem truly sorry,” You changed the topic quickly before something was confessed after all.

“I think so,” Draco looked to the door from Scorpius had exited. Sighing softly, a hopeless chuckle left his lips. “As livid I am that he got into my stuff, and that I was drugged by a six- year-old, it brought me back to you,”

“I suppose it did,” You smiled. “As long as he promises to keep from your stuff, and to come to talk to you instead of taking matters into his own hands... I don’t see any harm.”

Draco nodded and pulled you into his arms, finding comfort in your solace and steady compassion.

“So...” You drawled, pulling away from him. “You kept my letters?” A mischievous smirk fell upon your face as you raised an eyebrow at him.

“Yes,” He admitted, defeated. “I know, I know. It’s wrong and—” You burst out laughing, causing him to pause.

“I kept yours too,” Beaming at him, you reached up and stroked his cheek. “Granted I didn’t read them until again the day we got caught in the rain...”

Draco chuckled softly and drew you in for a kiss, marveled that you were even standing in front of him.

______________________________

There was a day that Draco did ask me. Another four words that made my heart soar and want to scream from the rooftops that he was truly mine. It had taken some time, make no mistake. It was redefining what it meant to be married and figuring out what it meant to marry for love and not advantage, but we made it. There was love, patience, and a strong foundation.

“Ginny, I can’t do this,” I whispered, tearing my eyes away from the mirror. “I... I’m not a wife... I—”

“Hush,” She ordered and fixed a hair that was out of place. “You’re the perfect one for him,” 

“But... me? Getting married? I can’t.”

“You love him, don’t you?” She tested, and I nodded, not trusting my voice. “And you can’t see a day without him in your future?” I nodded again, fighting back tears.

Ginny’s face softened. “I know,” She took my hand. “It’s a lot and it’s scary sometimes, but you deserve this. You deserve a happily ever after with a man who is willing to do what it takes to give it to you,”

I looked down at the floral lace of my dress, blinking away the moisture in my eyes. 

“Maybe you’re right...” I murmured.

“Of course, I am,” She smiled and picked up my bouquet, offering it to me.

Cannon in D began, and the door opened. My veil hid the water in my eyes and the fear on my face. Fears that faded when I saw him at the end of the aisle. He looked just as nervous as I did. It made me smile. It was so like him to be nervous about this. I almost laughed.

I took Harry’s elbow and inhaled deeply.

“You look beautiful,” He murmured.

“Thank you,” I mumbled back as we made our way down the aisle.

Harry placed my hand into Draco’s, and I felt secure. I felt safe and sure of my future. My eyes darted to Scorpius who I had seen grown up the past couple of years. He waved to me and I giggled before turning back to Draco.

There were tears in his eyes as he beamed down at me, our vows exchanged, and rings placed. 

“Don’t you cry,” I scolded quietly. “Because then I’ll start crying,”

“I’ve waited so long for this day,” He defended. “I’m allowed to cry,”

I laughed as my husband leaned down and pressed his lips to mine, sealing our promise to each other.

.

masterlist

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more like this:

beautifully beastly

together in paris

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