#but yeah these weeks have been all about tying some loose ends so it's time for me to make this blog running again

[ddollipop]

I DIG MY NAILS IN DYNAMITE. . . ! — ( MOIRA O'DEORAIN. )

#. synopsis! — if moira’s going to be forced to work the clinic, she’s going to do things her way: no matter how unconventional her methods may be. (malicious fucking compliance) .

#. contains! — f!reader , explicitly nsfw content , lesbian smut, female on female, dirty talk , slight begging , implied age difference , slight power imbalance , subtle medical setting , oral sex , cunnilingus , fingering , dom!moira , sub!reader , nipple sucking , some wall action , one-sided stimulation , giving preference (moira) , slight praise , sex in the workplace , finger sucking , sort of revenge sex .

#. word count! — 5.1k .

The clinical wing is hardly any of Moira’s responsibility. It wasn’t her idea, she had no intention of utilizing it herself, and the fact that she was being forced to work it alone for no less than ten hours a week was something akin to infuriating. If she didn’t already loathe Angela Ziegler and her fluffed up ideals about peace and prosperity, —she certainly did now. Because this was cutting into her time, and if there was one thing Moira couldn’t stand more than working with incompetent people: it was squandering her waking hours on fruitlessness. It was always the same things over and over and over again. You’d think a building full of well-educated men and women of science would have a better understanding of their own petty ailments by now, but no. . . 

Every slim bout of nausea, every headache onset, every tiny papercut, it seemed, was good enough a reason to come crying to her. And she’d had enough. It’s not to say that you were any more or less annoying than anyone else who’d stopped by that day, but there was something so nerve grinding about your presence, about the way you glanced around the white-walled exam room, that set Moira off.

“What’s wrong with you, exactly?” She questioned, —though it was painfully clear she was only asking out of obligation and was none too pleased to be doing so.

Her stern, uncaring expression almost had you forgetting the lie you’d cooked up while sitting there alone for a good ten minutes.

“I’ve got um. . . A headache and I’m feeling a little dizzy,” you reply.

She notices how uncertain you sound of it, and her eyes narrow at you, regarding you suspiciously.

“Is that a question or a statement?” She asks bluntly, mincing no words in the process.

“A statement,” you answer, tacking on a soft apology that she doesn't care enough about to acknowledge.

“How long has this been going on?” 

“A few hours, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

You’re really starting to wish you could just sink into the exam table and disappear. Even more than that, you’re cursing Doctor Ziegler for putting you up to this, —for deciding that you were just innocent looking enough to play a fools game with this woman before you. You’re certain now that the extra pay is hardly worth putting yourself through this just to see if Moira is really taking her position in the clinic seriously.

“A few hours,” you repeat, dropping the rest; but you know it’s already too late.

She’s annoyed with you. She’s sick of it here in this tiny room, and all she wants to do is put a stop to this ridiculousness and make use of her time her way. . . Which gets the cogs turning in her mind. If she has to be here, Moira’s going to make the most of it, —and what better way than to indulge herself in the sweetest little patient that’s set foot in here all day? It’ll be a bit before her clinic hours are up for now, and she’d much rather spend that time tying up some of her own loose ends than playing into Angela’s surprisingly spiteful hands.

“It’s a bit warm in here, no?” She says suddenly, straightening her back and standing to her full height as she shrugs off her lab coat.

“Uh. . . Yeah? A little, I guess,” you reply uncertainly, trying your best not to stare as she drapes the shed garment over the back of a chair and masterfully unbuttons the top of her white dress shirt.

The fabric is loose, and it sits against her pale skin like silken sheets atop a mattress. For all Moira is known for being: —cruel, sarcastic, brilliant, blunt— you can’t help but wonder why attractive doesn’t tend to make the shortlist. It’s far from the first time something like that has ever crossed your mind, of course, having worked in her vicinity for several months now, but it is the first time you’ve ever felt your insides twist themselves into pretzels at the sight of her.

She’s so tall, and even without the height, her personality alone commands the space she physically takes up. Moira is the kind of woman who doesn’t ask for what she desires, but simply demands it, and there’s something very stirring about that in a way you can’t quite seem to put your finger on.

“You guess, do you?” She raises an eyebrow, throwing you a blank glance.

Her hands come down to grip the edge of the exam table, the crinkly paper shuffling under the new pressure. She’s close enough now that you can feel her breath ghost against you, and somehow, her unchanging expression feels ten times more spine-tingling now that she’s less far away.

“Is there anything you’re certain of, y/n?” She questions, —and heaven help you, the way she says your name has your thighs itching to squeeze together where you sit.

“I-I. . .” You stutter pitifully, lost for words now that she's this close, eyes ghosting around her face, then around the room, just hoping to avoid her gaze.

“You. . .?” She prompts in a surprisingly gentle tone, removing one hand from the exam table to grab your face.

It's not a violent gesture, nor much of an unwelcome one, as her thumb sits on one cheek and four fingers press against the other. She steadies your head with the grasp, forcing the direction straight ahead, and your eyes naturally follow in suit. Moira can feel the way you swallow, watching as your throat moves to push the saliva down, and something akin to dangerous blossoms within her.

“You're a pretty girl,” she tells you. 

Somehow, the tone she uses when she says it makes it feel less like a compliment and more like a statement of fact.

“It's too bad you're such a quiet thing. I'm sure under the right circumstances, your voice is quite sweet.”

Anything you could have thought to say in reply seems to all but die on your tongue or lodge in your throat. A shiver creeps up your spine, tingling under your skin, scattering goosebumps all across your body.

“Do you have any idea how tiring this is?” She asks, standing to her full height again, clarifying quickly: “Working in this clinic? When I, of all people, should be doing something of actual substance. Forgive me if your headache isn't as interesting to me as my own endeavors, —but you must realize how pathetic it is to come crawling to me about something so minute.”

Finally, you work up the nerve to speak back again.

“I'm sure it must be frustrating,” you answer. “I'm sorry to have inconvenienced you, Doctor, I just. . .”

I didn't have much of a say in the matter. 

She sighs. 

“Did nobody ever teach you how to finish your sentences?” She asks, sounding rather incredulous. “Either out with it, or let me put your mouth to some proper use.”

You're not really sure what that's supposed to mean, but it's not as if you have much to say at the moment anyway. Anything you could have mustered up has gone out the window, drained like a pin-pricked egg.

A smirk tugs on her lips at your silence.

“Open,” she directs, a folded index finger sneaking under your chin and a thumb dragging your bottom lip down a bit.

In the moment, you hardly register the command, but somehow you manage to blink yourself back to reality fast enough to part your lips without her having to ask again. (Though asking wasn't really what she'd even done in the first place.) 

“Good,” Moira hums, appearing all too pleased with herself, “it seems you’re capable of following directions.”

Having acknowledged that much, she sneaks that thumb up, letting it pass your lips and nudge at your tongue, feeling the warm wetness of your mouth. You feel yourself burning up, and Moira presses in until the pointed middle knuckle of her thumb is barely ghosting below your cupid's bow.

“Close,” she demands, —and you do, suckling on the heat of her hand, eyes scaling up to her face.

She seems much too delighted by this, albeit in a subdued sense of the word. There’s always been an air of cockiness about her, but this really took the cake and ran with it, like she was so proud to have suckered you in even this deep. It’s then that you’re forced to question whether this is some kind of sick joke, or if she’s truly just that bored here in the clinical wing. It’s obviously not her favorite place to be, but doing all of this on the clock to make the time pass by faster is a little bit of a stretch, even for someone like her.

Moira glides her thumb to and fro, watching the way your lips move with her, still clasped around her digit so beautifully. She thinks to herself that you really are just such a pretty girl.

“Aren’t you just a sweet, obedient thing?” She muses, finally letting her lips curve upward completely.

You hum instinctively, and she can feel the vibration as it resonates from the back of your throat.

“Oh?” She cocks her head to the side, raising a single eyebrow, “was that meant to be defiant? Or perhaps just a correction, —that you’re only this malleable for me?”

She loves the way you look so dazed by every word she speaks, like you’re trying to interpret a foreign language. You’re so mystified by her very presence this close up, as if you can’t decide if she’s real or not.

Eventually, Moira decides she’s had enough and utters “open” again, to which you comply quickly, letting her thumb make its way out from between your lips. Ever the inquisitive woman, she rubs her thumb against her index finger, tapping them together, letting your leftover saliva string between them.

“Y/n,” she murmurs, turning that duel-colored stare directly on you so intently, “—don’t play so coy. There comes a time when every woman must stop begging for the things she desires, and I’m tired of your eyes begging for what your mouth refuses to ask of me.”

Your lips part now, brain convinced you have a solid idea of what you’re supposed to be requesting of her. Though your head is still swimming and a part of you just knows you’re better off leaving things here, as they are, you’re only human. . . So you let your shaky hands come up to grasp at the fabric of her partially unbuttoned shirt, and you pull her inward, not once, but twice, until her face is so close to yours that you’re practically sharing the same breath.

There’s a pause when you don’t make the final move to kiss her, half expecting that she’d have taken over by now, but she offers a low chuckle and snakes a hand up her torso, grasping at your own. It’s gentle for a moment —but only for a moment— before she forces your grip away in a single motion, the other hand wrapping around your free wrist, and pinning either of your hands down against the examination table.

“Go on,” she presses, “stop being so polite. Take what it is we both know you want. Do lions ask nicely before they tear their prey apart?”

You wonder which one you’re supposed to be in this scenario, —the lion or the prey. With the way she’s staring at you, you get the feeling it’s the latter. . .

Closer, closer, you lean, until Moira’s mouth is barely touching your own in a sort of off-handed, almost kiss that isn’t quite coming to fruition. Your neck is craned as far as your body will allow, and you feel the little tuft of amused breath that passes her nostrils ghost against your skin.

“You really are just incredibly novel, did you know that?” She asks, pressure increasing on your pinned down wrists as she finally goes in for the kill.

Her lips are surprisingly soft, and slightly sticky from the remnants of her off-orange lipstick. Even the way she kisses you commands a certain level of respect, and you hope to honor that by keeping up, letting your body react naturally to any and all of her ministrations. When her tongue slips into your mouth, you hardly startle at the feeling, letting her lick and taste as she pleases. The way she does so is like she can’t get enough, —and it crosses your mind very briefly that you may be the first person she’s come on to in quite a while.

Her job is demanding, and overwhelmingly isolating, after all. ..

Having stained your lips enough, both with her bruising kisses and the tangerine-ajacent cosmetics on her mouth, she pulls away for the briefest of moments, only to descend upon your neck like it was glazen with sugar. You can’t help the little gasp that escapes you, or the soft moan that follows, —or the way your hand reaches up to bury the fingers in those fiery strands of hair now that hers are no longer pinning yours down.

“Moira,” you hiss lightly, “—ah.”

Under any other circumstances, you’d have never uttered her name so plainly in lieu of her title, but with the way she was wearing you thin and prying you open with such apparent ease, you doubted she’d care much if you stepped over a line previously drawn in the sand. As far as you could tell, you were already lost at sea anyhow. 

It’s not much of anything, but you feel her smirk against your skin, then murmur: “She does speak.”

You’re on fire, inside and out, burning up so badly you fear there’ll be nothing left but ashes by the time she’s finished with you. Silently, you think it might be best for you to put a stop to this before it ends up going too far; before each of you are drowning so deep there’s no way to break the surface. Your lips part, ready to put an end to it all, —knowing you should. . . But you can’t. Not when she looks you over like you really are just her prey for the taking, for the feasting, the devouring.

“Darling,” she murmurs, tracing the back of her finger down your cheek, caressing you softly, “don’t be so shy. Learn to take what you want without pleading.”

Even then, it’s less of a suggestion and more of a subtle demand.

“I—” you start, but swallow just as quickly.

Sucking in a breath, you let your hands do the talking, gracing the flushed skin of her neck, then ghosting just above her sharp collar bones that peak out from her unbuttoned blouse. Before you have the wherewithal to tell yourself to stop, your shaky fingers begin fiddling with the rest of the clasps, going further down until you see the top of her bra (a simple, black garment, in true Moira fashion.) There’s something so stunning about the way colors lie against her, as if melding into her flesh, bending to her will.

She doesn’t stop you from unfastening the buttons, revealing more of her as you continue downward. She’s got no complaints to utter, no reservations present in her body language, and she sheds the top entirely when the last one has come undone. Moira takes a step back, tossing her shirt onto the small countertop, one of the sleeves dangling over into the sink. You take her fleeting absence from your body as an opportunity to admire her, —the sharp, almost jagged edges she carries around like swords. She’s so tall and slender, so striking in the way she moves as if everything is calculated and she doesn’t doubt for a moment that the world is ready to mold to her every wish and whim.

“Something to say?” She cocks a brow, tone smooth and almost melodic, that hint of an Irish accent clinging to every word.

Your mouth still feels dry, but you force yourself to say what’s on your mind, —even at the risk of coming across like some lovesick schoolgirl.

“I just think you’re pretty,” you answer.

Her lips quirk into another smirk at the compliment, and she runs a hand through her hair, letting you admire the motion.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” she replies.

It didn’t feel kind when you said it, really. . . It just felt true.

“Come,” she beckons, coaxing you off the exam table and closer to the wall, pressing your back against it.

It’s cold to the touch, but it does little to quench the fire still roaring in your guts. What’s more, you’re not entirely sure you want it to stop now anyway. From the corner of your eye, you can see one of Moira’s lengthy arms reach out to tap the middle of the doorknob with a long-nailed finger, popping the lock into place. You assume that signifies a sealed deal of sorts. . . That there’s no going back now; and heaven knows you’re not trying to.

Moira’s hands find their way to your waist, pressing firmly for a bit as she kisses you again; albeit somewhat slower and more intimately than before. It feels more like the kind of kiss you’d give a lover to show affection than one you’d throw at a midday fling. There’s little time to dwell on the thought, however, as she snakes herself between your thighs, dancing over the fabric of your dress pants.

Your breathing hitches a little at the feeling, your skin heating up, and Moira grins to herself before letting her fingers trail upward and curl inward, grabbing at your sweater. Untucking it from your pants, the elder woman pulls it up, looks to you for approval, then finishes the job as she yanks it over your head and tosses it back onto the examination table. The crinkly paper shuffles for a moment, and the sound is almost thunderous over the duet of breaths and heartbeats across the room.

She murmurs something about how lovely you are that you don’t quite catch, —but the real compliment comes from the way her eyes trace across your body, soaking up every inch so earnestly.

When you reach behind her slim back, fiddling with the clasp of her bra, she gives a hum of amusement.

“Eager one, aren’t you?” She asks, voice dripping with the only kind of condescension that tastes so sweet.

“I can’t help it,” you breathe quickly, almost in embarrassment, but still lacking the humility it would have otherwise carried.

You manage to tear the clasp open and the straps on her shoulders slump off. Moira readily tugs them down and sheds the last garment on her upper half, letting your eyes rake over the slight curve of her breasts. They’re not large by any means, but they suit her body so nicely, sitting perfectly on her chest with pinkish nipples you can’t help but think about clasping your mouth around.

She seems pleasantly surprised when you make the first move to do just that, even placing a long-nailed hand on the back of your head, guiding you to her body. As you offer a lick to the left one with the flat of your saliva-laden tongue, she lets out a soft breath, stroking your hair softly as if to encourage you to keep going. You do as she silently asks, parting your lips again and taking her in your mouth, suckling on one, then giving the same attention to the other. She seems to like the way you swirl your tongue, so you do it again, and again, and again, until Moira decides that this just isn’t suiting her fancy any longer.

“Good girl,” she mumbles, even when she’s pushing you away and tugging your bra off with ease.

This time, she doesn’t bother tossing the article of clothing onto the exam table behind her, she simply lets it hit the ground to join her own. Thankfully, the sanitation of the labs, and subsequently the clinical wing, has always been solid as can be.

With a clawed hand, she covers your mouth and keeps your head pinned back against the wall, ducking down to repay the favor. She takes her time reaching your breasts, but it’s hard to mind when she’s busy sucking love bites in a trail down your neck and upper chest. She bites your shoulder, feels you moan against her palm, then does it again to draw the sound from your throat once more.

When she finally takes a single nipple between her teeth, the sensation alone has you seeing stars. Her mouth is so wet and warm, so surprisingly inviting, and she’s so skilled with every little flick. Her free hand works what her mouth doesn’t, careful not to scratch or jab you with her nails. She stays attached for much longer than she allowed you to be, and it crosses your mind that Moira may not be much into the whole receiving end of things. Whatever the case, she looks too pretty like this, with her mouth leaving the rest of her faint lipstick around your nipples and on the column of your neck, for you to think too much of it (or be disappointed by it.)

You really couldn’t tell if all this passion and fervor was born of spite against Angela for setting this clinic up in the first place and making Moira work in it, the general frustration of being away from her own endeavors for so long today, the pent up ardor releasing after a dry spell, —or maybe some mixture of all of that and then some. Whatever the case, Moira wasn’t skimping on a single detail, and you were going to be the last person on the face of the planet to complain about that.

As she unbuttoned your pants and began to tug them down, allowing them to cling around your thighs, you were quick to take over and shed your own clothing at her silent demand. You were thankful you’d worn open-toed heels that day, knowing it wouldn’t have been as sexy if you’d had to have taken the time to slip your socks off during this little process. Moira doesn’t make any moves to mimic you, instead resigning herself to watching and holding herself back from touching.

When everything’s shed, you unconsciously cover yourself with your arms a bit, not necessarily to hide away from her gaze, but out of little more than whatever few shreds of humility you have left.

“Don’t be bashful,” she says firmly, grasping each of your wrists and planting your arms at your sides.

The transition back to the table feels like a blur, —a rush of so much at once that your mind goes a little foggy and the sound of that damn crinkly paper being pushed back to the top, along with the stray clothes, hardly registers above the ache in your core and the coolness of the floor beneath your bare feet. She instructs you to sit, and you do, and when she tells you to come closer to the edge and spread your legs, you do that as well.

“You’re so obedient,” she comments with a half-smile, trailing a finger down the barren skin of your inner thigh, sending shivers across your skin. “We could use more employees like you around here.”

A part of you can’t help but hope, in the moment, that those people never come around, that they never land positions in the lab, just so this endeavor can be your burden to carry alone. This side of Moira is still intimidating, but there’s a softness to be found in the way she looks at you, the way she mumbles little compliments against your skin, —the way she treats you like you’re made of something fragile.

She parts your lips with two of her long fingers, taking a moment to admire the way arousal has slicked your folds up so beautifully. It’s been a while since she’s seen firsthand the impact she can have on a woman, and your wetness strokes her ego more than it probably should have.

The moment the flat of her tongue pressed against you, your toes curled inward and your head fell back, a few breathy moans making your chest stutter. Through half-lidded eyes, you could only watch in bliss as Moira glanced up at you, her mouth suctioned around your needy little cunt, feeling every twitch and licking up every bit of juice.

“Oh my God,” you huff, reaching forward with one hand to grasp at Moira’s hair.

She seems to like the way you vocalize, and the way you grab at her like it’s something natural, even when it really isn’t. Her tongue works in circles, then lines, then a million other shapes and directions in a single moment, and you feel your body quiver from the tension.

A part of you feels pathetic, but it really can’t be helped that she’s already pushed you to the edge. Weeks of work had given you little time to yourself, and what time you had managed had been spent sleeping, eating, or trying to catch up on things you enjoyed in your personal life. Taking care of your more intimate needs just hadn’t really entered the equation as of late, but now all of that build-up was really showing its true colors (and so quickly at that.)

“I—” you suck in a breath, “I’m gonna cum—”

And she reaches around from the top, her arm hooked under your left thigh, pressing the pad of her thumb ever so carefully against your swollen clit.

You toss your head back and bite your lip nearly hard enough to draw blood. Your free hand grasps for one of your breasts, pinching a nipple between your fingers, letting her drive that stake in so fucking deep that you can feel your insides melting away into ecstasy. Her thumb massaging your clit, her tongue swirling around just below, and the utter depravity of having sex with your boss’s most disgruntled co-worker leaves you cumming on her face, muscles releasing all their tension and melding away into this fantasy world with her.

Oh, but she’s not done, —because of course she’s not. The quiver in your thighs isn’t steady enough, and she hasn’t felt you clench around her fingers, hasn’t felt you tug on her hair hard enough to rip some of the strands from her scalp, hasn’t quite had her fill of you just yet.

Moira brings her hand to her mouth, tearing the middle two nails off with her teeth and spitting them onto the ground beside the examination table. That’s probably a lot hotter than it should be right now, but there’s something about the way she tugs them off so effortlessly, grasping them between her canines, that has your core sopping at the sight of it.

“Just lay back,” she requests.

You do, without question, and you hear her offer up a low chuckle that resonates from the back of her throat.

“You’d just do anything I asked of you, wouldn’t you?” She asks, amusement clinging to every word.

“Yeah, probably,” you reply breathily, —and perhaps a bit too honestly.

But she likes that.

Moira pushes your thighs apart like they’re less so parts of your body and more so obstacles getting in the way of what she wants. She stands to her full height for a moment or two, but her back curves downward and she lowers herself over top of you as she flips her hand palm-side up and sinks those two de-nailed fingers inside your cunt. Your accumulated wetness allows for such an easy entrance, and she pauses for a moment at the hilt of her hand to relish in the way your walls thrub around her digits, almost pulsating, begging for more.

If there’s ever been something Moira has been happy to comply with, —it was this. She lets you adjust, but just barely so, and then pulls back a bit, letting the friction elicit a few soft moans from you.

“Fuck,” you whimper, eyes rolling back a bit, cunt clenching around Moira’s lengthy fingers, the ones she knows how to work so well inside you.

It once again seems like every move she makes is calculated and precise, evoking something so primal inside you, unleashing some kind of desirous beast that just can’t get enough of her.

And there you are on this uncomfortable exam table in this God forsaken clinical wing that neither you nor Moira have ever been very fond of, bare back pressed against the weirdly textured leather, dripping and convulsing around the lecherous fingers of the same woman you’ve heard nothing but complaints about from your boss since you first began working under her. You’re sure that if Doctor Ziegler could see you now, she’d have you fired on the spot, —and something about that makes this so much fucking hotter.

You’re whimpering at every touch, so vulnerable for her eyes only. She prods at every inch of your insides she can touch, moving her fingers in time with every little noise that’s ripped from your throat, leaving you moaning like a slut in heat; and the cycle continues until your body has just had more than enough.

“Moira, I—” a breath cuts you off, nails scraping against that odd-feeling leather beneath you. “Please don’t stop, please don’t stop, holy shit—”

She doesn’t stop. She wouldn’t even dream of it when you’re begging like that, when the pretty pussy she’s hammering out with two fingers is just begging for every ounce of her desire and attention.

The knot inside you unravels, and she basks in the way you spasm around her digits, back arching up off the table. Moira lets you ride it out before slipping out, drawing a few lines up and down your glistening slit before pulling her hand away and reaching for the paper towl dispenser that hangs on the wall. She pats her hand dry and silently collects the clothes strewn about the room.

It takes a moment for you to get your bearings, but you manage to redress without making a fool of yourself.

“A word of advice,” Moira finally speaks, “you’re a good time, and I’m sure an adaquate employee, —but acting isn’t much your forte. Next time Angela sends you here to spy on me, spare me the pleasantries and let’s just skip to the good part.”

You can feel your ears burning, but you force a nod anyway.

“Yes, Doctor.”

[missdawnandherdusk]

All Good Things to Those Who Wait

Draco x Hufflepuff!Reader

There goes the last great American dynasty

Who knows if she never showed up, what could have been

There goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen

She had a marvelous time ruinin' everything

Chapter 1   Chapter 2   Chapter 3   Chapter 4

Chapter 5   Chapter 6   Chapter 7   Chapter 8

Chapter 9   Chapter 10   Chapter 11  Chapter 12

The Chapter That Never Happened  Chapter 13

Chapter 14  Chapter 15

Summary: tying up some loose ends :)

A/n: *emerges from the void*

Everything has an ending. The best stories, and the worst ones. Looking back at my story, there was no better ending I could have asked the stars for. I lost people I loved but I also stood for what I believed in and led an army to victory. No one would forget what had happened in those days. The days of the Great War. 

But what is life without tying up a few loose ends. You’ve come with me this far on this journey, and now as I look back, perhaps there are some things that you’d like to know. Some conversations you’d like to hear. Some people you’d like to meet or see again. So, here are those loose ends, tied together.

**********************************

I stepped onto the porch of my childhood home. It was in the efforts to try and find my mother, and try to find some peace and meaning after the past years. Draco came with me, at my side. 

“She’s not here,” I sighed, knowing before we even stepped foot in the house that my mother wasn’t waiting for me. “And somehow that hurt’s more,” 

“She’ll come in her own time love,” Draco soothed. Maybe he was right, or maybe I’d always be searching for her in the stars like I looked for my father. 

Draco and I sat on the porch that night, watching the sun set and the fireflies come to life in the meadow that blanketed around us. 

“You cast a patronus,” Draco said as I laid my head on his shoulder, watching the wildflowers dance in the wind. 

“I know,” A smile touched my lips. 

“It was a dragon,”

“Yeah,” I took his hand into mine, thinking back to the first night Draco cast his own patronus with my father’s wand. How things had changed since then. “My mother always told me that one day I’d find my patronus and it would watch over me like my father,” 

He pressed a kiss to the top of my head. 

“I don’t think you need anyones protection,” The humor in his voice gave way to the smile that I couldn’t see. 

“It’s still nice to have someone beside me—to fight alongside me,” 

He was quiet a moment before airing his doubts. “Do you think that maybe…” I knew where he was going with the thought, because it had been chipping at the back of my mind. 

“Because they’re so different we’re not meant to be together?” I mused, finishing his worried thought. 

“Yeah,” He sighed.

“No,” I sat up, facing him. “I think they’re just right for us. I’ve thought about it—more than I should. But in reality… if we think about it, your lion,” 

“Aslan,” Draco’s fingers brushed over my locket. A smile crept to my lips and I nodded. 

“And the first task,” 

“The what?” I had caught him off guard, a beautiful sight to behold. 

“Our fourth year, that first task of the tournament.” Realization struck him. 

“Our patronus’ show the start of us—when we really first started to trust each other.” I took his hand back into mine. “They’re not so different after all,” 

He laughed without fear and kissed me softly, before pulling me closer. “The start of us,” Draco mused, and maybe he could see them like I could: a younger me standing there, skeptically looking at a younger Draco. Before the war, before the long nights, secret kiss, tears, laughter, love and loss. Two kids who took a chance. 

When the sun cleared the horizon and its final rays fading, Draco and I headed inside—to the empty house that still promised to protect me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was a knock on the door. In the week that we had been here, no one had disturbed out haven. No one knew we were here.

Draco looked up from his book. I dislodged myself from the couch and his arms, and went to answer the door, on guard. I stared at the one standing before me, not knowing how to quite process it. 

“Hi, mum,” I whispered. 

“Hello,” 

Time stilled around us. Everything came rushing to the surface only to be stopped by my unparted lips. One thought escaped. 

“I did it,” my voice was barely audible. 

“I’m so proud of you,” 

Tears stung my eyes. After all was said and done relief flooded through me more than anger did. Perhaps it was the peace that blanketed the Wizarding world that calmed my hurt. 

“Mum,” My voice broke into tears. Amity wrapped around us as—after years—I got a hug from my mother. 

“I’m so sorry, honey,” She whispered, stroking my hair. “I’m so sorry,” 

I nodded into her shoulder, letting all of my bottled-up tears come out. All of the stresses from war and the nightmares that plagued me at night—my mother was still there to hold me tight. It didn’t matter that I was still hurting from wounds she inflicted, to know she was there, willing to hold me tight, and call me hers was enough. 

“Y/n, are you—” Draco came out and paused. I pulled away from my mother and looked at him. He gave me a soft smile and nodded, heading back into the house. 

“Is he upset with me?” My mother asked. I laughed hopelessly. 

“I don’t know,” I said, wiping away my tears. 

“Are you?” She asked. 

“I don’t know,” My voice softened. “There’s so much right now… so much to sort through…” 

“There is.” She didn’t deny it, and maybe it was comforting that someone outside of my peers acknowledged that I had been through a lot, and in turn that had caused a lot of heavy burdens on my heart and soul. 

My gaze drifted back to hers. 

“Do you wanna come in?” I asked. 

She shook her head. “That’s not what you want, nor need,” Reaching our she placed per hand on my arm, soothing me before I could argue. “I’ll be around if you need me, but until then, the house is for you—it always has been. Build a life,” She smiled and looked through the window—probably at where Draco was inevitably spying on us. “You’ve found a good one,” 

A smile touched my lips. 

“Thanks mum,” 

My mother inhaled sharply and nodded. “I’ll be off then,” Turning to go down the porch stairs, she paused. “He would be so proud of you,” 

Tears burned my eyes again, as I wrapped my arms around her, needing her to hold me just once more before I could let her go. Because in her arms was also the love of my father that was taken from me too soon by this war. A war that I saw an end to. And maybe in that moment, the war within me ended too. I wasn’t the daughter of a Death Eater and a member of the Order of the Phoenix. I was the daughter of Walt and Elizabeth. And that was enough

“Goodbye my love,” My mother said softly. “I’ll always be around.” 

“Bye mum,” I smiled as she wiped away my tears. “I love you,” 

“I love you too sweetheart,” 

I waved goodbye, and with a spell, she was gone. I turned to go inside. The door clicked softly behind me. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Professor McGonagall?” My brows pulled together. “Not to be rude, but what are you doing here?” 

“This is a summons for you,” She held out a parchment, the usual stern look on her face was replaced with pity. 

I took the parchment and opened it, scanning the delicate print. My heart sank. 

“This is… this—“ I gaped. 

“I’m afraid so,” McGonagall sighed. “There was nothing I could do,” 

“Draco?” I called into the house. He was beside me in a moment. I handed him the parchment. “This is serious?” She nodded again. 

“I’m sorry my dear,” 

“A court summons? They’re putting her in trial!?” Draco demanded. 

“Kingsley is very set on it. And he is the new Minister,” 

“I saved the school! I helped defeat the Dark Lord! I—really!?” Tears pricked my eyes. 

“There’s got to be some mistake,” Draco insisted. “She’s not a Death Eater, she doesn’t even have the mark!” 

“I’m sure that the ministry will see that, but I’m afraid that I cannot do anything about the summons,” 

I scrubbed my face and sighed. “Thank you Professor. Can I invite you in for some tea?” 

“That’s very kind dear, but I’m afraid I must be on my way,” She bowed slightly then disaperated from the porch. 

I stood there a while, lost in my thoughts. Draco gave me a gentle squeeze and kissed the crown of my head before disappearing inside. My feet took me off the wood of the porch and into the softness of the grass. I sank to the ground beside a fence post. The sun began to set. My eyes watched the horizon. Millions of thoughts swirled around my mind with no discernible direction. 

Was there even a case for me to be innocent? Is this what everything I had worked for come to? To be seen as a criminal for holding a crumbling cause together? 

____________________

“Where is she?” Abby asked, helping Pansy through the fireplace. 

“Out front, watching the sunset,” Draco sighed, opening the front door. “She’s been out there a while,” 

“Can’t imagine why,” Pansy muttered. “They’re seriously putting her on trial?” 

“Yep,” Draco sighed. “All this time I thought I’d be the one, and yet…” 

“I’ll go talk to her,” Abby kissed Pansy’s cheek. “You guys get to work,” 

“Thank you, both,” Relief flooded Draco’s voice. 

Abby snagged an old afghan off the back of the armchair and went out through the small meadow. She draped the blanket around your shoulders and sat beside you in the grass. You laid your head on her shoulder. She could see the dried tear tracks on your cheeks. 

“How—how could they do this?” Your weak voice held deep betrayal. 

“I don’t know,” Abby answered honestly, taking your hand into hers. “But we’re not going to let them get away with it.” 

“I don’t—I can’t defend myself in court—I,” You dissolved into tears. “Haven’t I done enough?” 

“More than enough,” Abby affirmed. “Don’t worry, we’re gonna work it out—you’ll see,” 

“How?” You asked. 

“Well, you’ve gathered quite a few allies who owe you once or twice,” Abby pointed out. “And others who just love you anyway. Draco and Pansy are working on it now,” 

“Wha—what?” 

“We’re gonna build your case,” Abby promised. “And get you acquitted.”  

“They’re…” A sad laugh left your lips. You laid back on the grass. Abby knew you were searching for the first stars in twilight. 

“Don’t worry about a thing,” Abby smiled at you. “Just rest,” 

The days past and my trial date approached like a storm on the horizon—but whether it was just rain or a hurricane, I couldn’t tell. Draco assured me that it would all be okay—he tried to tell me about everything done to build my case, but I wasn’t interested. Grateful, thoroughly, but I knew that if I learned anything about it, I would pick it up myself and try to fix it and my weary heart couldn’t handle that and keep beating like it was supposed to. 

So, I dressed smartly and took Draco’s hand before we took the Floo to the Ministry. I kept my head low, and tears at bay. 

Though Draco, Abby and Pansy accompanied me into the court room, I had to sit alone for the trial. The distance was drowning. I sat in the hard wooden chair, facing malice and prejudices. Kingsley looked almost predatory, as if he could pin the entire war on my shoulders, casting the blame on me. 

I flinched as the charges were read against me. The list of dead was longer than I thought. I didn’t dwell on the days of the Battle of Hogwarts, nor the events that occurred. They haunted me in my dreams, make no mistake, but what was real and what was a nightmare I lost the ability to discern. 

Was that much blood really on my hands? 

My faith in myself began to waver. Maybe I did deserve to be locked up. A few years in Azkaban with dementors sucking my life force might make me forget what I had done. 

Surprise flickered on my face as I saw Remus Lupin stand to my defense as an attorney. It was the first time that I had actually taken note of who was in the room. There had to be at least thirty people all gathered behind Draco and Pansy that I could see—more filed out the door in the back. All faces of those I loved, I had fought beside, I had grown up with. 

The static in my ears tuned in and out of Lupin and Kingsley conversing. It wasn’t until their voices raised to shouting that the static was drowned out. My eyes flickered up from he thread in my hands. 

“She cast unforgivables! She killed! She’s dangerous!”

“Death Eaters who were threatening our lives! The lives of wizard kind everywhere! She stopped a genocide!” Remus shouted back, obviously frustrated. “She showed remarkable strength and courage in a time of great darkness, and you will not diminish that.” 

“They are unforgivables! We have laws for a reason!”

“If I may,” McGonagall stood and the entire room quieted. “That list of names that you read was a long list of Death Eaters who have either escaped from Azkaban, or are known Death Eaters and have killed before. Miss Y/n had very hard decisions to make. The ministry found itself incompetent for lack of a better word. She, along with her friends, engineered an army to face the Dark Lord. Over the years what she went through has turned her into who she is today. She fought along side the other heroes who stand before you. She will be counted among them. You would not punish an Auror for the same thing and you will not punish her.”

“But—” Kingsley was red in the face. 

“If you put her in jail, you put the rest of the rebellion too,” The voice that piped up from the crowd surprised me. It was Harry. He stood and all eyes went to him. “Without her, I never would have been able to defeat Voldemort. Dozens more would be dead. You send her to Azkaban… then you’ll send me too,” A hushed gasp filled the room. A small one escaped my own lips.

“Mr. Potter,” Kingsley tried to regain control of the room. 

“And me,” Abby spoke up. 

“And me,” Neville stood. 

Soon everyone around me was standing on my behalf. Pansy, Luna, Ginny, all of the Weasleys actually, Ernie, Hannah, Emme, Blaise, Draco, Harry, Hermione, Ron, Fleur, Tonks, Remus, McGonagall, Moody, Sprout, Flitwick, and others I couldn’t see in the vast room. Kingsley faltered at the large defense behind me. 

“You send her then you send each one of us,” Harry spoke clearly. “I’m your stupid chosen one, even if she did something wrong, don’t I have clearance to pardon her or something?” 

A smile crossed my face. Intense silence stretched on consuming time and space until it was suffocating me. 

“Very well,” Kingsley sank back into his chair. “Y/n you have been cleared of all charges and sentencing. You are free to go,” 

Relief flooded through me as the room erupted in cheers. I met Draco’s eyes and he was smiling with pride. I collapsed back into that wooden chair in tears. There was a swarm of people around me, all making sure that I was alright, but they all parted for Draco to reach me. 

“Love?” He asked softly, kneeling before me. “I’m here,” He pulled me into his arms and we shared the embrace of lovers. As I exhaled, the weight of the world fell to the floor. 

I was free. 

I was acquitted. 

Now, I just had to find my innocence. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Draco?” It was a crisp autumn morning. He looked up from the newspaper. “I’ve been thinking,” 

He smiled and set down the paper, giving me his full attention. I almost wished he didn’t. 

“I… I know it’s been a long road here… and since we’ve met it’s kinda been hell.” A sad laugh left my lips. “There’s a whole world out there Draco,” My eyes flickered to the willow growing outside the kitchen window. 

“Yeah?” He prompted softly. 

“Don’t you want to go see it? Be young and reckless and not have to feel like—like you’re running an entire school?” I gestured. 

“I do,” He confessed softly. “We are still young Y/n, we have a long life ahead of us,” 

“…You still want it with me?” I felt as if the oxygen was being vacuumed from my lungs. “We were just kids when we met Draco. We went through a war together—and now it’s over. The war. You don’t have to stay here,” This house was just as haunted as I was.

“What—where is this coming from?” Draco stood, rounding the small breakfast table. “I want to be with you. I want to share my life with you,” He took my hands into his. “So, let’s go travel the world together—learn who we are outside of the war.” 

Hope sparked in my chest. “Really?” 

He laughed softly. “Oh my darling, you are one of my best friends, I’ll go anywhere with you,” His words lured me to melt into his warm embrace. We sat on the kitchen floor. He stroked my hair softly. 

“Just for a while,” I mumbled. “There’s so much we haven’t seen,” 

“I know,” The smile was evident in his voice. “And it’s going to be incredible—and we’re going to learn how to heal along the way,” I nodded into his shoulder. 

“I was thinking about maybe even living muggle for a little bit,” The confession was a weight from my shoulders. “I need space.” 

“Okay,” His soft agreeable caught me off guard. “I think it would be good for both of us actually. And maybe even fun,” 

I laughed softly as tears formed in my eyes. Leaning against him I watched the morning sun move across the wooden floor. 

“I love you,” I whispered softly. “And if you… if I’m not…”

“Hush,” it was a soft reprimand. “I think you’re right. We need time away from it all. To find who we are away from it all,” 

I nodded and rested my head on his shoulder. 

“We’ll come back,” I promised. 

“I know we will,” Draco smiled, pressing a kiss to the top of my head. “Knowing you, you’ll want to come back and help build a better system,” 

My cheeks flushed red. I hadn’t told anyone about my ideas to make Hogwarts better—to make the Ministry better, hell to even make Azkaban better. It was time for things to change. I smiled to myself. Maybe I was more rebellious than I thought. 

And yet, Draco knew—he knew all the little plans in my head that were hidden just for me. Being known felt like belonging—and I belonged with him. 

**********************************

Traveling with Draco would always be saved in my memories until I died, and when it started to slip, it would be saved into a pensieve. I wouldn’t forget. 

We bought a muggle car and drove it until it felt right to stop. It wasn’t the famous places where we found ourselves, rather it was the forgotten places where we felt most at home. Where I could stand on a cliff edge and just scream and laugh and no one was around to hear me. Where Draco and I would sit at the edge of a river and send down leaves that held our biggest regrets, our losses, and our fears, learning to let go. Where we would sit in cafes and draw what we saw around us and enjoy pastries and tea. Where we could dance in the middle of a crowded room with other couples who didn’t know us from Adam. 

But that is a story for another time. 

For now, I’m sure you have a burning question that you’ve been waiting for me to answer. 

And yes. 

Draco did take me to go and see Phantom of the Opera in Paris like he promised. 

Oh, and we got married.

But, again, that is a story for another time. 

There is one last person I want you to meet before I close. 

**********************************

My heart caught in my throat. 

“Draco?” I squeaked out, leaning against the bathroom counter. “Draco!” 

“What? Are you alright? What’s wrong?” He was frantic, looking for danger. 

“I’m… pregnant,” I whispered, looking at him in wonder. “Draco… I’m—“

“Holy harpies,” 

Realization flickered across his face as it rose into an elated expression of joy. A victorious laugh as he scooped me up and twirled me around our lavish bathroom, in our muggle flat in the suburbs of London. His joy was contagious as I giggled in his arms, holding onto him. He set me down, stroking my face softly. Then he pressed a kiss to my forehead. 

Draco must have seen some fear linger in my stare. Some uncertainty that was well justified. 

“The war is over,” Draco reassured drawing me back into his arms. “They’ll be safe. We’ll make sure of it,” 

I nodded, curling my fingers into his sweater, my smile returning. 

“I’m gonna be a mum,” I laughed. 

“And you’re going to be absolutely brilliant.” He pressed a kiss to my lips. “Absolutely brilliant.” 

“And you’re gonna be a great dad,” Tears pricked my eyes. “God, I don’t know the first thing about being a parent,” A nervous giggle left my lips. 

“We’ll learn and figure it out,” He stroked my cheek softly, stealing another kiss. 

A thousand parenting books, a baby shower, and a few doctors appointments later, Draco and I were curled up on the couch in our flat as the fire crackled in the hearth. 

We had yet to settle on a name—to be fair we narrowed it down a lot, but with every new suggestion came a new round of anxiety that it wouldn’t be just right. It left me up at all hours thinking of it; so much so that Draco had to find a pregnancy safe sleeping potion so I could get proper rest. 

“Elizabeth?” Draco mused, after my mother. I pursed my lips. It had been a suggestion that circled around. 

“I’d like it as a middle name,” I decided, the thought had been mulling over in my mind. 

“Okay done,” He smiled, reaching over to stroke my stomach before resuming his massage of my sore feet. 

“Still need a first name.” I pondered, leaning my head against the back of the couch. “Narcissa?”

Draco snorted. “I’m not calling our daughter by my mothers name,” 

My heart fluttered when he said our daughter. 

“Well we need something,” 

“How about Lucy?” That was a new suggestion: one not voiced by either of us. 

“If that’s some way to get me to name her after your father I swear to Merlin—“

Draco burst out laughing shaking his head. 

“Godric, no. Ugh,” he chuckled. “No, love, Lucy as in the first one to find Narnia. Ya know, that book you read to me all those years ago. The current theme of our nursery?” 

“Oh,” my eyes widened at the thought, my heart softening. “Lucy,” I looked down, caressing my stomach when I felt something odd. Frowning I pressed my palm over the area. Draco caught my confusion and grew very concerned. 

“What? Is she alright? What wrong?” 

“Nothing,” I grinned. “She’s kicking—I think she likes her name,” I reached out for his hand and placed it in the same spot where mine resided as I felt her kick again. 

“Hello little Lucy,” Draco whispered softly. “I can’t wait to meet you,” 

Tears pricked my eyes as I watched him talk to her softly. And like every night, Draco got up and made me my tea that had Sleeping Draught in it—which he brewed specifically for me. It reminded me of our school days when he would spend class time brewing me anti-anxiety potions. It warmed my heart that his habit didn’t wane even with the years past.

That night my eyes fluttered open. I woke in the night, barely awake and ready to fall asleep again when I heard a soft voice. At first I thought Draco was trying to speak to me but I quickly realized that he was talking to someone else. 

“You’re going to be one of the greatest wizards to ever walk the earth,” he murmured softly. “You’ll be kind and smart like your mother. You’re going to love her so much. We already love you so much.” 

I let my eyes drift closed as a smile touched my lips. I resisted the urge to reach out and take Draco’s hand, in fear that he might become bashful about the situation. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A small bundle of warmth rested on my chest, peacefully sleeping. My hand rose and cradled the small thing, tears pricking my eyes. My other hand was still clinging to Draco’s. 

 Lucy Elizabeth Malfoy. 

There were tears in Draco’s eyes as he reached out and with the softest touch caressed her tiny head. 

“She’s beautiful,” he murmured. “You did so well,” 

Exhausted, I let my eyes close, knowing that all was right with the world. Lucy would grow up in a world free from the threat of Voldemort and Draco would be by my side to protect her. We had already bled and fought and now we would make this new world we fought for, right for her. 

A new legacy. 

A new hope. 

.

masterlist

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more like this:

two by two

Beautifully Beastly

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@coffee-addicti @msmcsmutt @ravn-87 @artemismohr18@whygz@crazywritingbug @bitemebro522 @zombiesnips-blog@savingdraco  @akari180 @slytherin-emerald @queenfeatherwings @fanficflaneuse @go-whovian-universe @spicyshenanigans @darling-im-not-okay-i-promise @katsukink @takemetothekingdom @strangerr-things @tmnt-queen@hxneybgb @belcvayelena @moviesbooksandfandoms   @cocochanelthepupper @ninacotte @braelynn-johnston    

@jiggllyy @darcypotter-blog  @thiccheerioss@lottie289 @beautiful-pegasus@tceedlmao @anonymous034 @bi-andready-tocry @dragonsandbread @the-queen-of-hell-things @alienmotel  @oh-itsnothing @sunflowerxsadnessw @fattycooter @fanficsigottaread @gweaslvy @strawberriesonsummer @gaysludge @ray-of-sunrise @artist-bby @shadowsingeraxolotl @quillsareforwriting @wollymalfoy @lilpieceoftoast @paper-cats @floweryjh @hufflautia @livize75 @annie-mcl @riathearora

[anothermansjeans]

Okay so singer reader idea and if you’re not feelin it then that’s okay! But maybe Bye by Ariana Grande. And I imagined it like her and Spencer were together but have been broken up for a couple months and reader comes out w this song and changing the lyrics in the song to “so I grab my stuff, Penny just pulled up in the driveway.” And then they eventually get back together.

THANKS FOR REQUESTING!! ALSO some quick headcanons for this au so it makes more sense: the other 4 songs i mention reader wrote are down bad, the archer, hits different, and stranger and then after this blurb i picture reader wrote feels like !!

cw: hurt/comfort warning :((( spencer self sabotages !!!!! but happy ending :)

wc: 1k

singer!reader masterlist

++

Heartbreak has always been a real motivator for you when it comes to songwriting. You just hoped this motivator died the moment Spencer came into your life… unfortunately, it didn't.

Something serious happened at the BAU three weeks ago, so serious that Spencer went to your place in a panic and told you it was best if you two stopped your relationship now before anything bad happens. The media still weren't a hundred percent sure who he was, the disguises and staying on the down low really helped with that, and he claimed that's a good thing– it’s good that no one (other than close friends and family) really knew about him and his job. He told you he didn't want you in danger.

And some very small rational part of you knew he was doing the best thing his brain told him to, you were just angry and sad about it all. You love Spencer; that’s a no brainer, but you wish he would have given you the chance to make the decision if it's going to impact you. So, because of the heartbreak of him leaving that night and making absolutely no contact with you afterwards, you kind of went on a rampage with your writing.

The first song was written not even three days after it happened. Penelope pulled up to your place to give you a hug and to let you know that just because Spencer doesn't allow himself to be happy, doesn't mean she will stop being there for you. You love Penelope so much. After the visit though (and a few too many glasses of wine) you kind of threw anything you saw that was Spencer’s into a bag and handed it off to her. You wanted to keep only what was yours, and you didn't want to have to deal with it later; you didn't want to deal with the heartbreak later.

Still a bit buzzed, you decided to start working on some music. Phone recording, and fingers playing the piano, you sang whatever popped in your head.

“So I grab my stuff

Penny just pulled up in the driveway

It's time

Bye-bye

Boy, bye

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah

Bye-bye

I'm takin' what's mine, yeah

Bye-bye

It's over, it's over, oh yeah”

And it was out to stream within the week. You went through a lot of loopholes, long talks with your management, and producers to get it out as soon as possible. When you wrote it, it felt like it was on the tip of your tongue, and that anxious feeling made you loath everything around you. For your own mental health, it was released way before any other song or even mention of a new album. That week that was spent tying up loose ends on your management’s side was a week also full of songwriting, and you were sure you'd have an album by the end of the month.

When the surprise drop happened, people were confused. Supportive, but confused. You normally did a lot of interactions with fans online before or after a release, so your silence was concerning. You proclaimed it was your hermit season, and with that, people (that being friends and family) knew not to bother you. So you could say that when a knock on your door was heard throughout your place, you were hesitant.

You got up and looked through the peephole, sighing when you saw the genius you were still very in love with. It took you a minute to collect yourself– you didn't want to speak to him but all parts of your heart were aching for a moment with Spencer– and you slowly opened the door, seeing the sadness pool in his eyes.

“Uh– h-hi.”

“What are you doing here?” You didn't mean for your words to come out so harsh, and neither did he by the flinch he gave you.

“I wanted to talk to you…” You scoffed and shook your head. This wasn't a good idea. You began to close the door, only to abruptly stop at his voice. “I heard your song.” You stayed still, waiting for him to continue. “And I spoke to Penelope, and everyone on the team and I hate myself for letting you go the way I did and–”

“And what?” You cut him off, practically begging him to give you something to hold on to.

“And I want to try and talk to you about this and do anything I can to try and make this up.”

You softened a bit, and gave a nod, opening your door wider for him to enter. When he did, you motioned at him, “keep going.”

He took a deep breath and gave direct eye contact as he spoke, “I self sabotage, but in addition to that, I’m terrified of anything happening to you.” He waited a moment, clearly collecting his thoughts, “I see what happens to the loved ones of those on my team. I never want that to happen to you.”

“I understand that, but that doesn't give you the right to make the decision to end things without consulting me.”

“And I completely agree and understand.” His words were quick. “I know I’m allowed to be cautious but I should have spoken to you and tried to figure out how you felt on the subject.”

“Exactly.” You stared at each other, and your eyes began to fill with tears. “You are never allowed to do that to me again. Leaving me… safely stranded… I hated it, Spencer, and I love you so much, so you are never allowed to do that again.”

He took that as his in, and tentatively took a step towards you, bringing his hands up to your arms and gently squeezing them. “Never. I love you too, I am so sorry, Y/N.”

You gave a nod and moved closer to him, loosely wrapping your arms around his waist and feeling his arms engulf you. You waited a moment before speaking, “I wrote four other songs about you.” He hummed in agreement, “and they're all going on the next album.”

He gave a soft chuckle, “I completely understand,” and he left a soft kiss on the top of your head. A huge weight was lifted off of you, and you never felt more at home.

++

singer!reader taglist: @itsleilabxtch @wietske27 @taylorswiftilovecowboylikeme @marshatesthisreality @ladylincoln @delightfulmakerpiegiant @chericherrypie @punksnotdeadbutiam @stillhere197 @laddywitch @httpstoyosi @obi-wansgirl @amandareids

let me know if you would like to be added or removed!

[spectersgirl]

Hi! I saw your requests were open and was wondering if I could request a fic? I had this idea of Harvey x wife!reader where they think they are the last ones there for the night and put on one of his records and start slow dancing. Maybe only to find out Mike is still there too? Thanks! ♥️

This request physically hurt to read because it's so damn sweet 😭ily for that.

Wonderful Tonight

Harvey Specter x Reader

It was getting late and both you and Harvey were still at the office. Everyone else had long gone home, the halls now still and quiet, but Harvey had been swamped all week and you generally preferred to head home whenever he did, so you found yourself tying up some loose ends on your own cases.

You finally looked down at the clock on your computer and decided it was time to attempt to drag Harvey home to spend at least a little quality time with you before you both passed out for the night. Gathering your things and switching off your desk lamp, you walked down the hallway toward his office. The closer you got, you were able to pick up on the record he had playing on his record player. You smiled softly to yourself as you went, finally reaching his door. He was standing with his back to you, facing out the large picture window and looking down at the city.

Quietly, you set your bag and coat down on the ground and walked over behind him, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his shoulder. He smiled at your touch and turned in your arms, immediately leaning down to kiss you.

"Hi love," he said softly. "I was just thinking about coming to get you."

"Looks like I beat you to it," you said with a smirk, letting him go and sitting on his couch. "Did this thought have anything to do with the song you're playing?"

Harvey smiled wider, he hadn't noticed what song it was until now. "Wonderful Tonight" by Eric Clapton played through his speaker, the song you had shared your first dance as a married couple to.

"It didn't, but now that you're here, and our first dance song is on..." He stood with an arm outstretched, waiting for you to take his hand.

You smiled and obliged his request, wrapping your arms around his neck, and his around your waist. You slow-danced around his office, thoughts of the stressful week melting away as he dipped and twirled you around and around, just as he had the night of your wedding.

The song came to a close, and he brushed a strand of hair from your face.

"Just as beautiful as the day we got married." Harvey whispered, leaning down to kiss you softly once again.

Neither of you noticed Mike standing in Harvey's doorframe, at least not until he could no longer help himself.

"Wow Harvey, you are literally never allowed to call me a softy ever again. That was the sweetest shit I've ever seen!" He exclaimed, amusement written all over his face.

"Mike, don't you have somewhere to be? Like perhaps at home with your girlfriend?" Harvey asked, pretending to be annoyed.

Truthfully, he didn't mind that Mike had seen his soft side, not really at least. Harvey was proud of the man he had become since meeting you, he'd told you this many times. Of course, he was still the great and powerful Harvey Specter when it came to working a case, but he didn't mind this side of himself so much as he used to.

"If you must know, I went home to my beautiful girlfriend hours ago but I came back to pick up a few things I forgot. I'll let you guys get back to that, but Harvey, please let your wife go home sometime soon instead of keeping her trapped in your office." Mike said with a smirk and a wink, leaving the two of you alone once again.

"Yeah Harvey, let your wife go home soon" you repeated, poking his chest. He smiled in response and walked to his desk, powering off his laptop and gathering a few items.

"Alright baby, let's go home."

[sugoi-and-spice]

My actual prediction for [REDACTED's] fate at the end of MHA, and just my big ol' meta on the whole situation.

Sadly, I don't think Shigaraki is coming back to life. I really fucking hope he does, but I can't believe it for two weeks and then watch it not happen, I will break . Yeah Horikoshi loves his fake out deaths... But idk, Shigaraki 's body is pretty damn gone. And he tends to pull his punches less when it comes to villains (Twice anyone?!)

I truthfully think the best chance we have of seeing him again is through One for All.

Shigaraki 100% transferred OFA back to Deku with that last bloody fist bump. That moment was a huge part of Horikoshi’s original ending with Bakugo, and I wouldn’t be surprised (or mad) if he decided to try to work it into this new version of his ending.

I think we probably will see Shigaraki again and get some more of that context and closure that we’re looking for, but it will be as a vestige within OFA. That’s my prediction, that’s the best direction that I can imagine this ending going in my little lizard writer brain. And I don’t think I’ll be mad about that. (But idk man, talk to me again in like 2 weeks lol).

I’ve always had a hard time believing that Shigaraki was going to make it out of this series alive. Of course, I’ve always wanted Horikoshi to find a clever way for him to do so without totally betraying his character -- I never believed that Shigaraki should fully join the side of the heroes. It’s just so antithetical to his mission and the message of MHA, nor could he ever just… live a normal life with every crime he committed, and him spending his life in prison would be just as miserable as him dying like this imo, no fucking freedom there. Sure, the simp in me wanted an ending where he got a redemption and life, but I certainly wasn’t optimistic. It would be a HARD fucking thing to do. I certainly don’t know how I would do it if I was in Horikoshi’s shoes, as a fellow professional writer (not just of romance either. I write and edit YA action fiction in my normie job, fun fact). I had hoped Horikoshi would figure it out, and a part of me is obviously hoping that Kurogiri managed to pull some hijinks and somehow warp him away, then he and his friends go on to live like little rats the way they have for the majority of the series, forever, buuuut-

I did always have a feeling he was probably going to go the Vader route.

Honestly, him dying beating the shit out of All for One is a pretty great exit for his character, feels more true than him sacrificing himself for the heroes’ side or humanity’s sake. It is the quickness with which this all occurred, the off-screen rescuing he had by Nana Shimura, and the lack of bodily autonomy in his death that I think is pissing people off. (It’s certainly what’s pissing me off). If we had even just gotten a moment of him having full control of his body again, looking up to the sky and seeing his friends waiting for him as he decayed away – or you know, just a death that lasted longer then two damn pages – I think the reactions wouldn’t be so visceral.

That being said. Horikoshi is a master chef, particularly when it comes to stories of recovering from trauma and getting closure, as well as tying up loose threads imo (remember when everyone though that he FORGOT the traitor plotline? Boy was that an embarrassing time for the fandom lmao),  and this man has been cooking for a while now. MHA has been the best it has ever been in this Final Saga and I don’t think he’s done with this dish just yet, nor do I think he’s done with Shigaraki. Physically? Probably. But everything that Shigaraki represents and stands for in this series, no I don’t think this is the end of that. Just because we didn’t see those moments we wanted in this last chapter, doesn’t mean we won’t see them in the next.

So as shell-shocked as I am right now to see my ultimate comfort character (who I have a tattoo of by the way lol) fade away into dust, I’m gonna trust the process and Horikoshi for now.

It ain’t over til it’s over, as it were.

Peace.

(And all that being said, I probably will still write a fix it fanfic where he lives instead, regardless of how this is handled lmao)

[yaatrickyassification]

I want some angst plot but can't think of anything soo, Could I request for study group geonyeob and hanwool (plus minhwan if you're okay) with reader giving them silent treatment please, thank you in advance!

Thank you for your request!

[ Park Geon Yeob, Hanwool Phi, Minwhan Ma x Gn! Reader ] - Reader gives them the silent treatment.

Park Geon Yeob:

He's confused, did he do something wrong? What is it? What does he need to do to fix it? Please talk to him. When you showed no signs of talking and continued with your silent treatment, he felt like losing everything all over again. Please look at him, don't turn away from him, were you afraid of him? Well, he doesn't blame you. With how hell-bent he is on getting the revenge he considers the fact that it made him look like a monster. But he thought that you can look past that and still love him all the same.

Seeing how you look like you have no qualms about not showing any affection and even turning on him with nothing but a cold gaze left him all feeling bothered and empty inside, weren't you supposed to love him? Was all the I love you muttered every night with a bated breath and loving gaze all fake? What about the promise of loving each other till death do us part? Were you falling out of love? He shook his head when he thought of that, of course, you wouldn't. You still love him right?

He decided to give you some space first, maybe you were going through a tough time and needed some bit of space for yourself. When you're all finished with tying all of the loose ends is when he'll exert himself in your life again and will comfort you in whatever way you want. Until you didn't.

A day goes by without talking to each other, no it's fine you need time. He can wait.

A week goes by without talking to each other, and he realizes that you needed more time than he thought, it's fine he assures himself, you always waited for him, and it's time for him to do his part.

A month goes by and he knows, he knows, like a whisper from a devil that goes through his mind every anxious night, are you sure they still love you? You're the only one holding on right now? Isn't it time to let go of them by now? And he cries. Yeah, maybe it is time to talk. He cursed under his breath. You weren't dead like his mother, but why does this hurt like that night when his mother died in his arms as he watched with widened, traumatic eyes as the blood seeps out of her body?

And he showed up right outside of your door, tear tracts fully hidden by the rain as he stood with his feet wobbling. "If you don't love me anymore, say it. Don't hurt me with this nonsensical game of yours."

Hanwool Phi:

Hanwool Phi knows that he is a hard man to love, he knows that so much that at times, he thought that he was the one at fault. A wrong word can send someone down the wrong path. He knows all of it. He is quite experienced when it comes down to it, of course.

He had incited, manipulated, and destroyed people's lives like it was some useless gum stuck under the heel of his shoes, people may hate him for it. But this is the only way to somehow lessen the guilt that has been eating him alive without any ounce of rest.

And when you came into his life, like that pesky teacher of his who tried so hard to worm her way into his hateful cycle of deceit, manipulation, kill, and everything repeats. He thought, how long will this fragile happiness last when his father who has no qualms about killing people for the life that he wants for his son (did he ever once treat him as a son?) Will it last?

And he dreads the time that he knows will come sooner or later. After you have ignored him and even didn't look at him like he was scum that didn't need any of your warmth and rays of affection, like a starving man he goes after you. "Hey! What's wrong with you?" And with a cold glare sent in his way, him faltering.

And he chokes on his tears as his thoughts rise, have he forgotten? He is a Phi too, he shares the same blood with that despicable father of his, how funny that he thinks that it was his father who has always stomped on his happiness when he was the one who has always done it with his own two hands. Ah, I am his son, he thought.

"Are you leaving me? If you are, don't say anything to Hansol. You know that she's going to throw a tantrum because of it. Little kids like her shouldn't know about this kind of stuff yet."

Minwhan Ma:

Minwhan Ma likes it, oooh, is this like one of those tricks of yours? If so, he'll gladly play this charade of yours, he's Minwhan Ma and he's good at playing.

If you don't answer his calls, he won't reply to you either, he takes it up a notch and announces to the whole fucking school to ignore you, if anyone tries to talk to you they're immediately reduced to being low in the rankings of the school. No one gets in the way of his playtime with you.

A week passed and he's barreling down his way to your classroom, he opened the doors with gusto, his voice high pitch as he shouts your name to the entire class, the teacher doing nothing but staying quiet and timid and made his way out of the class, wanting nothing but staying out of what shit is going to transpire.

Minwhan made his way to you, his signature grin plastered on his face, "[y/n]! I'm tired of this charade! Let's eat together, I made my chef make your favorites!" His fingers now gently clasping your wrist.

His smile now slips out of his face as he watches you unclasp his hand away from your wrist, your eyes looking aloof as ever without any emotion and you walk past him, not even once turning back to look at him nor checking to see his reaction. You just walk straight past never turning back, like he was some obstacle that you can finally get rid of.

He still, his breath catching in his throat. And he finally realizes that this wasn't some drill or a game that the both of you can enjoy, this game is cruel, one will leave with a free heart while the other one will be stuck in the past wallowing in sadness at the time spent together, and Minwhan Ma doesn't like that. He has enough of this sick charades whether be it playing family with a fool or working his ass off playing fighting instead of just shooting them with a single fucking bullet and the problem's done! This problem wasn't one of them.

He looks at the students who were eerily quiet as they waited for Minwhan to explode like a volcano, they shivered as they heard Minwhan finally lift his head, his eyes now looking insane fitting of a man whose the right-hand man of a tyrant, "now who the fuck is getting between me and [y/n] hmm?" A gun was now held in his hands as the classroom that was quiet now erupted into screams. Just wait for him, he'll find out the reason why you're ignoring him.

"Why are you ignoring me? Was I that replaceable to you? Was I that unworthy of your time? Haha, I see. I'm not like a genius like Hanwool Phi and that fucking glasses guy, is that why you're ignoring me right now?" A toy gun was now pointed at your head.

"I hate this, speak right now if you don't want me to do something drastic."

[dumbass-tumbler-cryptid]

I love your Story Mama's Boy.When will we get a new Chapter?

So Mama's Boy is on hiatus until I finish Cabin in the Woods. Once I finally finish that beast expect the next chapter of Mama's boy a week or two later depending on how quickly I write it. I do want to get on some kind of week to week release schedule when I get back to that fic which in my mind is writing two or three chapters ahead and posting them one by one most likely every Monday.

That being said I have been seriously missing that fic recently and like the day before you sent me your ask I had been thinking about writing a Mama's Boy Christmas special. So thank you so much for giving me an excuse to do that! Hope you enjoy it!

Note, this has details in it for things I planned way down the line in that fic probably at least 10 or so chapters down the line so...yeah lol.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

December twenty fourth and fifth never failed to stir up a myriad of emotions among the R.D.A personnel.  Some of course longed for their loved ones, left behind on there dying world. Others, with little tying them down, would celebrate without a care in the world. And then there were the ones who partook in other winter holidays or none at all. For them it was business as usual. Just another day. In years past Miles had fallen into the later category. Christmas meant nothing to him religiously or socially, so why should he stop his important work just to put on a display of fake jovialness for his subordinates. But this year was different. His whole world was about to change. 

       Miles sat at his table in the dining hall picking at, but not eating, his Christmas dinner, his eyes trained on the room's entrance waiting for her to arrive. Paz had been keeping a low profile since she started to show, only coming to meals towards the end of service. He had never waited for her before now. It was too much of a risk to be seen even looking at Paz for too long, let alone speaking to her. But tonight he would have to risk it.

     Finally, when hardly a soul was left in the room Paz strolled in, shoulders back, head held high, brown eyes blazing with the fury she would unleash on anyone dumb enough to say a word about her pregnant belly. She was only in the middle of her second trimester and yet she looked ready to pop. At some point, Miles didn’t know exactly when Paz had ditched her typical fitted jumpsuits for loose flowing dresses. Tonight she was dressed in deep green. And she looked absolutely radiant in it. 

     “Socorro,” Miles barked out. Paz startled and turned, clearly surprised that he was even talking to her after everything. She fixed him with a quizzical look, “there something important we need to discuss. Follow me.”

     Paz’s eyebrows raised, her head tilting to the side slightly as she scoffed at him. “Can I at least eat first before this oh so important discussion?”

     “There’ll be plenty of time for that. Follow me.” He strode past her, knowing she’d be hot on his heels, to at the very least, rip him a new one for daring to talk to her like he had. He led her to a cart that she eyed defensively but climbed in all the same. Miles quickly drove off.

     After five minutes of riding in silence Paz spoke, “What are you taking me far away to murder me as an early Christmas present to yourself.”

    Miles shrugged, “that’s too much work. The clean up alone would be a nightmare. Then I’d have to invent some cover up and fill out stacks of paperwork. It’d be a mess. No thank you.” She snorted a little laugh, looked away and covered her smile behind her hand. Miles kept his gaze fixed ahead of him but was smiling just the same.

    They finally came to their destination on the south side of Hells Gate. This wing was far from the main areas on base, largely used for storage. Paz glanced around curious as to what was about to happen. Miles placed a hand on her back leading her to a door. With no preamble he opened it. Paz’s eyes grew wide as she slowly walked inside. “Miles…” she gasped. It had taken a herculean effort to get everything together. Twisting Parker’s arm for permission. Drafting the plans. Building the place and everything in it. And it all felt like nothing compared to the efforts of the women staring in awe at her new apartment. “When did you do all this?”

    Miles shrugged, “in my free time.” Paz huffed a laugh as she walked farther into the room taking it all in. Miles had had the place constructed against a large observation window, the glow of the Pandoran night illuminating the living room, the light glinting of the polished dark wood of the living room set Miles had made. Off to the right was a kitchen, the cabinets loaded with pots, pans, utensils, plates, mugs, and small appliances, the fridge and pantry already fully stocked. 

     Paz made her way down the hall, Miles silently following behind her. The first door on the left was a bathroom. The next door led to a small work room. Miles had heard that Paz had been spending a lot of time in the base's small textile workshop and so had brought the shop to her, an industrial sewing machine on one side of the room, a bookshelf and computer on the other, cans of paint placed in the middle of it all for Paz to decorate her new home to her taste. Paz was surprised by the space, looking between Miles and the room. He just smiled, gently turning her to face the other side of the hall, opening the door furthest to the right. Paz’s room.

     The observation window took up the far wall. The rest of the room was fairly simple, queen size bed, night stand, dresser, wardrobe. Miles had had Lyle and Z go to the barracks and Paz’s ship to gather up all of her things, carefully placing it all in the corner of the room for Paz to organize however she pleased. They moved on to the final room of the apartment. The baby’s room. 

     Miles knew he would never be able to raise his child. He couldn’t stand the shame that always lingered in the back of his mind knowing he was going to be a deadbeat. But if he wanted to keep his position and actually stay on Pandora with his family, then he’d have to keep them at a distance, watching over them but never being with them. Building his future child’s cradle, sanding it so smooth the wood felt like velvet, patiently carving the nature motifs he knew his lady would love, it had helped alleviate his guilt a fraction. He couldn’t be there for them. But he could at least build them a home and keep them safe through his work.

     Paz slowly walked the room awestruck beyond words, her fingers trailing on the details of the furniture. She opened the toy chest in the corner, carefully inspecting the toys Miles had carved. He just watched her, Paz’s wonder filled eyes shining like jewels from the bioluminescent light just outside the window. He wanted to ask her, do you like it, but before he got the chance, she approached him, kissing him gently, so reverently tender that in an instant he missed her despritaly even with her being right in front of him. “Thank you,” she whispered, her voice shaking ever so slightly.

    He wrapped his arms around her, holding her as close as he could, “it was the least I could do.”

    They stayed like that a moment before she pulled away, “I have something I wanted to give you too,” she said, “well, give might not be the best word because I know you wouldn’t be able to keep it but…” she reached into the pocket of her dress, taking out a carefully folded picture and handing it to him. He opened it, suppressing his gasp, “…that our baby boy.”

    Miles' head shot up, “a boy!” Paz nodded, smiling. A son. He was going to have a son. The news brought him more joy than he ever thought possible. He took one last look at the picture of his son, then handed it back to Paz. “Thank you for that,” Paz didn’t say anything in response. Her soft smile never wavered but Miles knew when she was analyzing him, waiting for his next move. “The whole base is in the hangar bay gettin’ drunk and partyin’. I sure as hell won’t be missed. I’ve got a roast goin’ in the oven. Should be about ready. We could have dinner together…”

     “Maybe you could spend the night?”

      Miles smiled, “yeah, I think we could get away with that.”

———————————————————————————————-

      So it’s Christmas Day and I must have been a very good girl this year because look what Santa brought me….the camera panned to show off her new apartment, “….the place definitely needs some color. I’m thinking about painting your room green. What do you think? I know for a fact I’m painting my room purple. Maybe a blue would look good in the living room. It’ll definitely glow at night with the forest lights. We’ll get some plants in here too. And I took up knitting to make you socks and sweaters and all that but I think I can make some funky blankets for in the living room. I don’t know. I’m just throwing out ideas. I’ve never really had a home before so I’m probably gonna go overboard with the decorations. But oh well, at least it’ll have personality, right kid….

     Spider watched the video of his mama, his heart hurting seeing her so genuinely excited, knowing perfectly well that the home she gushed about wouldn’t be her’s for long. Wouldn’t be theirs for long. He turned off the monitor, rising from his spot. 

    He moved from the old lab into the hall, wandering around until he found Quaritch, lifting weights in the old hangar bay while Lyle spotted him. “Hey,” Spider yelled.

    Quaritch grunted, completing another rep. “What!”

    “How come you haven’t taken me to mama’s old apartment?” The question caught Quaritch off guard, hurriedly completing the rep he was in the middle of before setting the weights back on the rack, sitting up to face his son. Spider stood there annoyed, “we’ve been here for weeks and you never even mentioned it!”

   Quaritch stood, wiping his brow, “never came up.” Spider groaned. “Fine y’a want to see the old place? Let’s go, right now.” He stormed past him, without looking to see if Spider was following. They walked through the dilapidated halls of Hell’s Gate, going well past the point Spider had ever been allowed to go. This entire section of the base had been sealed off back when he had lived here because they had only had enough resources to keep the labs and surrounding living quarters powered. Now back under the control of the R.D.A Hell’s Gate was fully powered once again but for what reason Spider couldn’t tell. They didn’t pass a single person on their entire twenty minute trek across the base.

     “Here,” Quaritch said when they reached the room, opening the door wide for Spider. He stepped inside as if walking into a dream. His mama really had over decorated. And he loved it. She had ended up painting the living room a deep burnt orange, accenting the space with brightly colored knitted throws and pillows, painted pots that he imagined once held healthy green plants, random knick knacks and tons of pictures of the two of them together. In the middle of the room was his play pen, colorful wooden blocks and stuffed animals still waiting for the baby that used to play with them to come back. His heart stopped in his chest. In another life this would have been his home. And he knew without a doubt that he would have been really happy here.

     Quaritch awkwardly moved inside, going towards the record player on display just underneath the living room window. He picked up the record still on the player, cleaned it, then set it back down, moving the needle into position. To Spider’s surprise it was nothing but relaxing piano music.

     He said nothing to his father as he moved down the hall opening the first door on the right. His room. Mama had ended up painting it a light green that fit beautifully with the carved wooden furniture stained a dark mahogany. Inside his crib was another knitted blanket and an adorable viperwolf plushie. Quaritch appeared in the doorway looking comically large in such a small hallway. “I built this place for the two of you. Had to kick up one hell of a fuss with the higher up to get’ et  approve but they did in the end. No one wanted you and your mama in barracks after all. But they refused to give me money or resources to make it happen. I had to get creative with what was available to me. I spent every spare minute I had buildin’ this place, makin’ the furniture and all that…”

     “It’s really nice,” Spider said, though his voice sounded far away. 

     “Your mama did somethin’ similar. She spent nearly all her time sewing up clothes, and bedding and toys for y’a out of whatever scraps she could get her hands on. Did a damn fine job too as you can see. She got real creative too. She’d ask people goin’ out to bring her back different fruits and flowers and what not to make dyes so you wouldn’t be stuck wearin’ nothin but white, black and army green. I thought it was silly at times but seeing the two of you together standing out like sore thumbs but looking so happy…”

     “Stop,” Spider said, tears pricking his eyes. It hurt enough to see this place. To hear about the lengths his parents went to just for him, knowing they threw all that out the window for the sake of their mission- it was too much. “Thanks for showing me this place. But if you don’t mind, I'd like to spend some time here alone.

     Quaritch nodded sadly, the disappointment clear on his face, “if that’s what you want son.” Without another word he left.

      Alone now, Spider made his way into his mother’s room. Just like the rest of the place it was vibrantly decorated yet very well organized. Spider peeked inside the drawers of the night stand, dresser and wardrobe. Aside from her clothes in the wardrobe almost everything was empty. Or at least he thought so until he went to close the nightstand drawer only to hear something rattling around. He opened it again slowly, finding a small wrapped package with a note. To Miles. From Papa. Spider sucked in a breath as he unwrapped the gift. Inside was a small knife carved for a child. He turned it around in his hand marveling at it. 

     Slowly he found himself sinking to the floor taking it all in. His parents had fought so hard just to have him. Worked so hard to provide the best that they could. He knew that they loved him. It was so obvious from his mother’s videos and the recom of his father’s awkward attempts at parenting. And yet it hadn’t been enough. It hadn’t been enough to make them stay with him. To abandon their fight, and betray the R.D.A so they could live as a real family. It hurt. There were no other words to describe the thoughts in his head other than it hurt. So, so badly.

[hazbincalifornia]

Round Two

Today is the first day of Blitzpreg week over on twitter! Here’s the first one for ‘Finding Out’. One Time universe, shortly after New Beginnings.

Wordcount: 780

Ao3 link

It turned out that Stolas had been right- the first time had been a lucky fluke. They’d gone at it practically every night for almost a month straight, usually a couple rounds each, but every time Stolas checked that the spell to detect conception was still working, nada.

Zip.

Zilch.

Blitz refused to use any kind of fertility spell even after they made sure his plumbing was working properly again when the lock got taken off. That probably would mean they’d get twins or more, and while he’d accept it if they happened naturally, he wasn’t about to push his luck on that particular coin flip if he didn’t have to. (That also pretty much left Aamon out of the question for anything other than the detection spell. He had sent them a little pamphlet on what positions were supposed to be more effective, though, and the model for the lady on ‘how to most effectively plow your partner’ had giant tits to ogle, so, hey. Take the joys where he could get them.)

Yeah, sure, a month wasn’t really that long in the grand scheme of things. But night after night after night, waking up eager and still getting nothing when he’d been psyching himself up for months before this, and after long days dealt with tying up loose ends from the divorce or helping the girls adjust to living in the palace or just IMP work in general…

Fuck, they’d dealt with so much shit to get to this point, was it too much to ask for one thing going exactly the way they wanted it to?

They curled together in the bed. Blitz’s tail absently snaked around one of Stolas’s thighs as the owl’s arms wrapped around him and nuzzled the back of the imp’s neck with a soft purr rumbling between them, punctuated only by Stolas’s sleep-hoots. Getting to fall asleep to this nearly every night was something he wasn’t sure if he’d ever fully get used to, but he’d be blessed if he wasn’t gonna try.

He deserved this. Deserved Stolas’s love, deserved Loona and Octavia’s ever-growing care and acceptance of him as a father figure, deserved the crayon pictures little Stellaluna had strewn all over her room with hearts and stars around his blocky face that she called pretty.

(Maybe if he repeated it enough, he’d fully believe he was worthy of the people around him. Believe that this wasn’t some fucked-up dream that could get the rug pulled out now that he had almost everything he wanted, that he’d be chasing an eternal treadmill when it came to having a kid they could raise from the start together.)

“Daddy? Papa?” The door creaked open, and there was a slight warble as their youngest peered into the room, little fingers curling around the door. 

“What is it, sweetie?”

“I thought I heard a noise.” She paused. “I wanna make sure nobody’s gonna get you.”

His chest twisted like meat on a spit. “Nobody’ll get us tonight, sweetie. How about you come up here and you can make sure of that?” They’d already cleaned up for the night, and he missed being able to hear her breathing if he listened hard enough through the walls. She brightened at that, little claws making clicking noises on the floor before she scrambled up the bed and took Blitz’s offered hand while Stolas made a murmur and barely stirred. Red feathers snuggled against Blitz’s front as Stolas nuzzled further against his back, and Blitz could smell cherry shampoo and the sweet pine of preening oil as he drifted away.

____

He stirred slowly to a persistent poking motion. It reminded him of old street drunks trying to see if he was dead before robbing him stiff, and he snarled before the familiar scent sunk into his brain and he blinked his eyes open to see Stellaluna prodding at his bare stomach- right, he’d just been in sweatpants last night.

“What is it, sweetie?”

“Why’re you glowing?” She scooted back and pointed, and he jolted up so quickly that Stolas yelped, staring down at the sigil that combined Stolas’s and Aamon’s symbols with some other mumbo-jumbo. It gently hovered above his stomach, sparkling baby blue without a care in the world.

“That’s… that means daddy’s gonna have a baby.”

“It does?” Her eyes widened before she smushed her cheek against it. “Right now?”

A grin split his face, so wide it stretched the skin to the point it almost hurt, and he ruffled her hair as Stolas sat up, his own eyes practically glittering with stardust of their own before Blitz yanked them both into a hug.

“Not quite yet, but Daddy promises, you’re gonna be a great big sister.”

[nitrosodiumequilibriumproject]

Tying Up Loose Ends (and a massive dive into how my mind works in game design)

There's basically one more thing I need to do for the project: create a marquee on PhotoShop. Otherwise, it's finished. Debriefs have been filled in, research processes outlined, files zipped and assignments sent off. My game is ready to be packaged and put on an arcade machine, and it'll run right out of the box. I obviously don't want to come off as prideful, but I think a finished game on this project is something special. At the very least, a polished game - not something that, yeah, it plays, but it's glitchy and scraped together just in time for the deadline. A game where I set out to do a thing and succeeded in considerable capacity. Toxic Waters was a good game, but it wasn't perfect. It was my first proper Unreal project and I overshot what I thought I could accomplish - multiple enemy types, combat with various unique weapons, large non-linear levels, advanced puzzle mechanics and an in-game shop had to be cut. Overdeath was a fine idea with an admittedly bad prototype level attached to it. The core gameplay loop was yet to be implemented, and the final "game" was a mess of poor time allocation and unused assets sitting unseen beneath the Z-kill. Sweat Pursuit could've been this. Another case of NitroSodium thinking he could make something that, in truth, was far above his skill level. But I did it!

I think I've mentioned this before, but this project was more about functionality than immersion. With Toxic Waters, I had a whole world envisioned; the Hydromorph Research Complex, a flooded scientific facility of snaking pipes and wailing sirens. The game was chunky and mechanical, a fine-tuned set of systems waiting to be utilized by the player to escape. With Overdeath, I wanted to create a wacky, vibrant homage to games like Serious Sam, where every shot fired has some effect to the world, blasting apart boxes or inflating them to double size. The key was always Create an experience, but after Overdeath failed to be interesting nor playable, the focus shifted to Make a game, specifically because Sweat Pursuit relies entirely upon its mechanics. Blog-wise, there were no walls of text debating on what weapon would be thematically relevant a la Toxic Waters, no collages of frozen outposts and junked snowcats like in Overdeath. All my thoughts were on the functionality of Sweat Pursuit, because without it, the whole thing collapses. I don't like making games like that. I much prefer the artistic merits of game creation; designing worlds and coming up with interesting ways the player can interact with them. For my next project, the looming, ominous FMP, I want to go back to that Toxic Waters era of design. I want to flesh out a world and build it so that a player can move through it, use all the moving elements that make it tick, jump on its platforms and exist in this deeply-stylized stratification of a real place.

I think the FMP is about lottery tickets? But obviously that'd be altered somehow to fit an idea. Right now I have no clue what I'll do for it. I've got something like three months though, far longer than my other projects, and I am a little intimidated by it. I mean, we're given a whole week for our teachers to explain it. How complex is it gonna be? I think I can add a second pillar to my gamedev formula.

I: Create the bare minimum before everything else. A game needs to be playable and functional as a concept before any more work is done.

II: Doubt is your biggest impediment. Having a solid idea to build off on is key to starting your project correctly.

I think for the rest of this week I'll be relaxed. Today I did crunch pretty hard. As my friends would say, I locked in. Headphones up, Deus Ex Area 51 Combat breakbeat blasting in my ears, not talking to anyone until my evaluations were done. But tomorrow, I'll do a little relaxing PhotoShop work, release my grip on the tight ball of stress that has been the Equilibrium Project for the last month, recuperate and prepare myself for whatever comes next. It's nice to word-vomit like this at the end of the project, archive the various thoughts that played in my head on loop as I connected nodes and playtested, but could never be fit into the work schedule. I'm ready to try something else. To utilise my new ideas and programming knowledge in a brand new, interesting way.

[cursedmotleycrueimages]

Hello ladies

[oblxvion]

PANTY STEALER | E. JAEGER

⇲ PAIRING: roommate!eren jaeger x female!reader

⇲ WARNINGS: panty thief eren >:(, smut, swearing, humping/grinding, unprotected sex (wear a condom), creampie, UNDER 17 DNI.

⇲ WORD COUNT: 1,079

⇲ SYNOPSIS: eren is your roommate, and an annoyingly attractive one at that. but one by one, your panties begin to disappear. surely it can't be eren?

⇲ AN: this concept and 'ren :,)..this was very self indulgent bye.. but him <33 pls god help.. ty @yeagertv for beta reading bae i love u🤍 please let me know if i missed anything in the warnings! likes + reblogs are always appreciated !!

At first, you didn’t pay it any mind. Maybe it got lost in the wash, or perhaps you’d mistakenly thrown it out. It was just a pair of panties, you had plenty — and if need be, you could buy yourself some more.

But as the weeks went on, you began to notice how within each wash, you’d be ending up with fewer and fewer pairs of panties — the amount you had in your dresser shrinking day by day. The thought of asking Eren about it, seeing if he was accidentally mixing in his stuff with yours crossed your mind, but it would be weird for you to talk to your roommate about your intimate clothing, so you just let it be.

You had no idea how you ended up in this situation, your lips against his as you entangled your hands in his hair. Maybe it was the stupidly sexual movie that you’d decided to watch together, or the built-up sexual tension both of you shared after living together for so long, or maybe the fact that he’d noticed that you weren’t wearing panties under those obscenely loose shorts — you weren’t complaining.

And somehow, you ended up in his bedroom, bare pussy grinding up against his fully-erect length — all swollen and puffy with arousal. His grip on your hips was firm as he guided you along his shaft, groaning into your mouth with pleasure.

“Lemme fuck you,” His voice needy, borderline begging you to let him sheath himself inside your gummy walls — wanting to feel the warmth of your pussy all around him as he plunged himself into you. After all, he’d been the one stealing your pretty panties, using them as jerk-off material for the past few weeks. He’d snag them before they were put in the wash and wrap them around his cock as he fisted his cock, eager for release — your name on the tip of his tongue each time he came. The need and desperation to feel you around him fogged up his mind.

You only moaned into his lips in response, placing your hands on his as you brought them to rest under the swell of your breasts — Eren’s thumbs encircled your nipples, taking careful notice of how your body reacted to the soft ministration.

Your body sets on ablaze from his touch, making you wonder why you didn’t do this sooner.

His cock wasn’t even inside you yet, and here you were, whimpering and whining at the sensation — this alone could make you cum.

“‘Ren,” you cry out, resting your arms around his neck as the tip of his cock rubs against your clit so nicely with each movement of your hips — your slick mixed with his precum, only making it even more sloppy.

What the two of you were doing felt weird.

It didn’t feel wrong per se, but it felt weird to be doing something so dirty with your roommate — couples did this sort of stuff; it made you feel like you were a couple for a moment.

“Oh, ‘Ren, it feels s’good!”

“Yeah?” He grunts, his lips slightly chapped, pressing open-mouthed kisses along your shoulder — his saliva leaving your collarbone wet as he makes his way up to your ear, jaw, and back. You could feel his smirk up against your neck as his hands ghosted your back, regaining their grip and position at your hips — his fingers drawing circles aimlessly as you continued to rut against him. “You like grinding on my cock?”

You nod your head, earning a chuckle from him in response — his breath hot against your ear. Eren was impossibly hard, and having you here, grinding on top of him, so desperately really didn’t do him any favors.

He’d been fantasizing about having you beneath him ever since you moved in; he would’ve never admitted it before, but now…

“Been dreamin’ of having you like this, baby,” he slurs, drunk on the feeling of your cunt engulfing his cock — the coil in his stomach began to tighten, signaling that he was nearing his orgasm. The voice in his head told him to hold out; he needed to feel you come undone for him first — his body ached for it. “Having you here in front of me all nice ’n pretty. So pretty, (name), fuck.”

His praise only pushed you closer to your orgasm, legs beginning to tremble and shake from the stimulation of his head repeatedly brushing up against your clit — you knew that you would come undone within the next few moments; Eren knew it too.

“Fuck, ‘m so close, ‘Ren, ‘m gonna —” your words cut off as Eren’s lips meet yours once more, swallowing your cries and mewls.

“You gonna cum?” His lips ghosting over yours, eyes half-lidded as he takes your lips in his once more. Eren reached a hand between your sweat-slicked bodies, positioning himself with your entrance — causing you to gasp at the intrusion of his cock inside you.

You’ve had your fair share of hookups and sex, but they never stretched you out the way Eren did. He’d bucked himself inside you in one smooth stroke, pulling out of you almost entirely before slamming himself back inside.

“Ohmygod, Eren,” you sob.

“Wanna feel you cum ‘round my c — holy shit — cock, angel,” Eren’s voice rough, unable to contain himself with the warmth of your walls clenching down on him — your arousal making it easy for him to thrust himself inside you.

You felt heavenly — your walls pulsating around his length as he brought his thumb to draw small circles around your clit. At this rate, neither of you would last long, and both of you knew that.

With just a few more thrusts of his hips, you felt your orgasm crashing over you — body seizing and twitching against his as he followed soon after you, not being able to control himself at the feeling of you milking his cock.

You could feel the underside of Eren’s girth throb as he spilled himself inside you before pulling out of your hole, his seed warm and thick, dripping down your pussy and onto his pelvis.

You lay there for a moment, both of you trying to calm yourselves and steady your breathing, when you notice a red lace fabric sticking out from the drawer of his nightstand — a particular red that you’d recognize anywhere; your favorite pair of panties.

That son of a bitch.

“So, which of my panties is your favorite?”

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[passionatelyfanfic]

Hi can I request a reaction to you telling them "Meet me in the bedroom."

Thank you for this request anon x

This took me so long to do, it was so hard thinking of different scenarios or reasons for someone to follow you into the bedroom. I am sorry if it is bad, I tried lol

BTS Reaction To You Telling Them, "Meet Me In The Bedroom/ Studio"

Seokjin/ Jin

This man cooked for you all the time, but for some reason, when you sat and watched him busy in the kitchen from the living room, as you spoke with friends, watching your doting husband slaving away (you wouldn't call it that, he insisted on it, he loved all the praise you gave him after), it just made you so thankful to have someone like him in your life. All your friends always said, how lucky you were to have such a handsome man who also happened to be an excellent cook. You were such a lucky woman. He loved teasing you, saying that maybe you had a food fetish, because he would always catch you looking at him. You would tease back and say that he was your fetish.

Your friends had left and he was now relaxing in the living room as you washed the few dirty dishes that were left in the sink. Once you were done, you made your way to the living room. Placing your hands on his shoulders, you began to massage him. He placed his hand on top of yours, as he kissed your wrist and then laid his head slightly back.

"Thank you for today Jinnie."

"Hmm, you are welcome princess, was the food okay?"

"Oh, you know it is always lovely, didn't you hear the girls, they couldn't stop complimenting you baby."

"You know, at the end of the day there is only one person that I want to compliment me."

"Who is that?" You smiled.

He leaned his head back, pouting and looking at you. You bent down and kissed his lips, letting go of his shoulders, him letting out a little sigh at the loss of contact from you.

You placed your hands on his knees, moving them apart, kneeling between his legs. "Do you want me to compliment you?"

"Baby, you know I would like that very much."

Lifting his t-shirt to expose his belly button, you place a soft kiss there and then on his crotch. "Why don't you follow me to the bedroom?"

Getting up from the couch and then lifting you up, "How about I take you there?"

Yoongi/ Agust D/ Suga

All you really wanted was his touch, but of course for the past couple of days, he was busy in his studio, well the room you guys converted into one, so he could work from home as well. For these past few days, the only thing you have been getting from him is a kiss to say goodnight, good morning and when you took him some coffee or something to eat. Your period was going to start soon and honestly you just needed him. You decided to take a warm shower, shave your legs, trim yourself down there. You let your hair down from the bun it was in. You put on one of his favourite scents and applied lotion to your body so you were nice and soft. Deciding what to wear was easy, he loved you naked. You put on a satin robe that hit the floor. Loosely tying it, you made your way to his studio. Slowly turning the door handle, letting yourself in.

His head still in his screen, "Jagi, I didn't need anything, I just made myself some coffee. Thank you."

"Yoongi."

"Yeah," as he turned himself around on his chair. "Oh."

Putting his hand out for you, you take a step forward.

He smiles, as he grabs your robe belt and unties it, allowing your robe to open for him. He does not touch you, instead biting his lip as he looks your body up and down, admiring your perky nipples, the little lump that forms your tummy, the 'fat' that you always complain about, the tiny stretch marks along your hips and thighs that he likes to kiss and your pretty pussy, he notices that you've trimmed your hair, he's basically checking you out.

You place your hand in his hair, slightly pulling his head back, he lets out a soft groan.

"Kitten, come-"

Stepping back a little, "Fuck no Yoongi! You have barely touched me this week, save that, switch it off. I want you to fuck me properly." Walking towards the door, you look back saying, "Meet me in the bedroom... Now!"

Grinning from ear to ear he is already stumbling off his chair, following you.

Hoseok/ Jhope/ Hobi

You love watching him dance, watching him dance is truly something else. No wonder he is one of the best in the industry. When dancing, he truly turns into the dance teacher, mistakes are not an excuse, but only a chance to do better in his eyes. You watch the trainees as they watch your husband, taking in everything he does and says, trying their best to keep up with him and stay on beat. He looks so glorious, there is this certain aura that he exudes when he takes control, here, on stage and in the bedroom, this sexiness, the need to please him and do whatever he asks of you. If it was just you and him in here, there would be no reason for you to hold back your urge of tackling him right now.

"Great guys! Let's take five." Him already making his way towards you. "Hey you," he smiles.

"Hey handsome, you thirsty?" You hand him a bottle of water. Even watching him drink water from the bottle is turning you on. Sweat trickling from his forehead, you take a cool towel and dab it away.

"Ahh thank you angel, I am almost done, I promise." As he gently gives your butt a little smack. No one really noticing as they are all still trying to catch their breath.

"Hmmm," You hum in response.

"You think I should give them a break and finish up early?"

"I mean that would be nice, they look exhausted right now, I watched and I think so far they are doing pretty good you know? You really are an amazing teacher Hobi."

Blushing, "Ahh thank you Jagi," kissing you on the cheek.

"Baby you should really stop that, all this affection plus you looking like this, you know what it does to me."

"What does it do to you Mrs. Jung?" He whispers as you get closer to him.

You slide your hand over his crotch, "Why don't you meet me in your studio now and I'll show you, Mr. Jung?" Giving him an innocent kiss to the lips and squeezing his crotch. You then make your way to the door, waving, "Bye guys, I think you all did wonderfully today!"

He claps his hands, "Alright guys, let's wrap it up for today, I'll see you all tomorrow same time as today." Following behind you.

Namjoon/ RM

It didn't take much for you two to be all over each other. Anything, it didn't have to be sexual at first. You two could be playing a game, the next moment, either you or he would be on top of the next, staring longingly into each others eyes, wanting to devour the other. Today was no different. You were laying on the floor with a cushion propped under your head, him on the couch, his head against the arm rest. The both of you were reading your favourite books. You looked up at him, only to find that he was already staring at you, with a smile on his face.

"What?"

"Nothing big head, read your book and stop checking me out."

"Oh, my gosh Joon, I was not checking you out, I could feel your eyeballs on me."

"Eye... Balls." Giggling at his own stupid joke.

"You're hanging around your hyung too much."

"Hmm." Sounding almost content.

Then it started, the both of you giving each other glances, and grinning. The both of you losing interest in the books. He tosses his book to the side as he sits up on the couch.

"Y/N, why don't you come sit on my lap and kiss me?"

You don't answer, you look over to him and begin to get up from the floor. He thinks you are coming over to him, but instead start to make your way out of the living room.

"Baby, did I do something wrong? Are you mad at me?" Worry in his voice as he gets up from the couch.

You turn around, with a soft smile and give him your hand. "No. Follow me to the bedroom."

Ignoring your hand, he instead grabs you by the waist and picks you up, you wrapping your legs around his waist, what sounds like a sigh of relief, he kisses your neck and then makes his way to the bedroom, you still in his arms.

Jimin

He was away on a trip for work. Today he was going to be returning back home. All you wanted to do was run your fingers through his hair tonight, he was growing it out for you because you were curious about how he would look. You can confirm that this new hairstyle does things to you, sexual things. You two had been sexting each other throughout, both of you excited for his return. Obviously with him and you, things are always flirty; this is what attracted you to one another, you two have this attraction and connection that neither of you have felt with anyone else. Even after 5 years together, things always seem to feel like the very first meeting or the very first touch.

BabyBoy: What are you doing now?

MyQueen: Why are you so curious?

BabyBoy: You know what I'm going to do to you if you don't tell me baby.

MyQueen: Oh? No... I don't actually?

BabyBoy: Should I remind you? I'm 20 minutes away.

MyQueen: I think it involves, rings, fingers and maybe a tongue? I'm so wet right now, maybe I should just use that toy I bought online the other day, what do you think?

BabyBoy: You know me so well. Baby, don't you dare touch yourself. Show me how wet you are.

MyQueen: No, why don't you hurry over so you can see for yourself.

BabyBoy: Baby, don't you dare touch yourself!!!

MyQueen: Maybe you should hurry. I love you.

BabyBoy: I'm going to make you moan tonight. Be there in 5. I love you.

Taehyung/ V

You two have been recently trying for a baby. The both of you have wanted kids forever, but you both wanted to be responsible enough before you brought another little life into the world. He was busy sitting on the floor, Yeontan, running around him and the little toddler, the little toddler was Hyungsik's daughter. He and his wife had asked you two to look after her while they went shopping for her birthday presents. She was beautiful. Having her around even just for a short time confirmed that a child was really what the both of you wanted.

You two were laying on the couch watching one of Rachel McAdams' movies. You were laying against his chest as he played with your hair.

"What are you thinking about?"

Looking up at him, "Hmm? What?"

"I can see you've lost interest in the movie, what's on your mind sweetheart?"

"I'm just thinking about that little pumpkin that was here earlier."

"She was lovely wasn't she?"

"Oh, she was perfect Tae, seeing you with her. It made me so emotional. You're going to be the perfect father."

He leans down to give you a light kiss, "You really think so?"

"Of course."

Placing his hand on your belly and then rubbing it, "There's one thing I'm going to miss though."

"What's that?" Looking up at him again.

"Calling you mommy."

"How? But you can still call me that?"

"I don't mean like that, I mean when we do it." He emphasizes the do.

You get up giggling and smacking him on shoulder, "You're such a pervert, here we were having a moment and that's on your mind."

"Ouch... Babe, that hurts." He pouts acting as if you've hurt him.

"Do you want to call mommy now? Hmm baby?" You stand up, giving him your hand, "Come with me to the bedroom."

He springs up, his pout turning into a boxy grin, he grabs a hold of your hand, pulling you into the direction of the bedroom. "Let's go mommy," breaking into a loud laugh as you stick your tongue out at him.

Jungkook

He is completely oblivious to anything that is happening right now. You have been watching him playing his video games for the past three hours. You wondering how does he manage to stare at a screen for so damn long, making some of the most funniest facial expressions when he is about go in for a kill, or when he is about to be killed. Cursing under his breath when he doesn't see the zombie guy on the right of the screen. The two of you were suppose to go out and get dinner, but the way he is carrying on, you might have to order in. Not that you are complaining, you are not the type that always wants to go out to expensive places, he just insists on it because he feels bad when he is away on business.

You need to ask him whether he still wants to go out or whether you should just order something. But to get this man's attention is another story.

"Kook?... Kookie."

You decide to go and stand in front of him. You are wearing a pair of leggings, that make your ass look really good and a thin strappy top, not something that would be considered overly sexy but something you know he loves you in. Instead of standing in front of him though, you pretend to look for something near the tv. Bending so that your butt is next to the tv. The game instantly goes silent. Realising this, you begin to make sounds as you look around, him been able to see your ass, in every angle.

"Oh, Jungkook, don't mind me, I'm just looking for my phone, I want to order something for us to eat."

He doesn't answer, but you hear the shift in the couch, he is making his way to you. He places his hands on your waist as you stand up against him, turning you around. "Aren't we going out for dinner baby?"

"Hmm." You place your hand on his cheek and he leans into it, "How about we order something to eat instead and you follow me to the bedroom?"

He leans forward, pressing the tv switch off, and then places a kiss on your forehead, "Deal, let's go now." Him lifting you up and throwing you over his shoulder, his hand placed securely on your butt as the two of you giggle as he makes his way to your bedroom.

[opalesense]

you asked for it

kaeya & f!reader [NSFW]

4.2k words • ~30 min. read

summary: after a frustrating and touch starved week, kaeya catches you playing with yourself despite promising you wouldn’t while he was gone. needless to say, he is not happy.

warnings: sadist kaeya, lots of degradation, choking, bondage, spanking, belt whipping, facefucking

notes: i’m so embarrassed to post this because i’ve never written a full nsfw thing before hahahhddhdhd anyway i’m going to hell... also if you can spot canon voice lines i’ll give you a smooch

"I’M HOME, PRINCESS!"

 Kaeya's alluring voice marked his distant presence outside the bedroom door. The sound of the front door closing behind him made me jump and snapped me out of my daydreaming state.  I could hear him taking off his shoes and putting his bags down on the dining table, the sounds of his coat shuffling off his body and onto the coat rack making my thoughts race even faster.

 He's home already?  I thought he was coming home tomorrow!

 "Our new recruits did so well in training that Jean let me off a day early.  They don't need anything else from me for now," he said, as if he were reading the questions that bubbled in my head.  "Can you believe it?  I hardly ever get a break.  I guess today is truly my lucky day."

 Panic began to bubble in my stomach now as I heard his footsteps quickly advancing towards me, giving me no time to cover up the sticky situation I put myself in.

 Literally, a sticky situation.

 I had been spending the last half hour curing my loneliness in bed, using my hands to replace the pleasure I was missing so badly from Kaeya.  His sudden return home made me curse under my breath. I was so close to a release too.

 I quickly pulled my fingers away and sprung up from the bed, rushing to the dresser to find some clothes to throw on.  But as soon as I pulled the nearest shirt over my head, the bedroom door creaked open, revealing the handsome figure standing and immediately pinning his eyes at me.

 "Hi, Kaeya!" I turned and took a few steps towards him, immediately wrapping my arms around his torso and burying my head in his chest.  He smelled like sweat and hard work.  "Welcome home, sweetheart!"

 "[Y/N]," Kaeya placed cold hands on my lower back to return the hug and gave me a sweet smile, "what were you doing just now, cutie?"

 "I was just about to take a bath," I quickly lied and cupped his face with my dry hand to give him a peck on the cheek.  "Care to join me?"

 His expression suddenly changed from gentle and loving to unimpressed.  He could see through my lie – I could tell.  He was always so good at spotting my lies. His blank eyes pierced through mine, sending a shiver down my spine.  Or maybe that was his hands slowly freezing up my skin with his vision, the annoyance easily seeping through his sharp stare.

 "Are you sure, princess?" he reached to grab my other hand and lifted it up to his face, licking my wet fingers without breaking eye contact. He let out a deep growl at the taste, his eyes turning more dangerous by the second.  Any hopes of me escaping this lie were completely gone now.  "It doesn't seem like you were... 'just about to take a bath.'"

 "Kaeya..." my body quivered at his strong grip on my hand, "Listen, I’m so sorry, I was just so lonely without you–"

 His face inched closer to mine as he slowly walked both of us to the edge of the bed.  "You couldn't wait for a week?" his sharp voice tickled my ears, "I specifically told you to wait for me, didn't I?  You even promised me you would."

 "Y-yes, I did promise," we stood at the foot of the bed, my naked hips desperately pressed into his.  "I’m so sorry–"

 "Yeah, you’re 'so sorry,'" he mocked me and rolled his eyes with a smirk.  "You better be sorry, sweetheart.  I missed you too, but at least I kept up my end of the promise and didn't touch myself while I was gone, unlike some slut I know," he hissed.

 Suddenly, he wrapped his other hand around my neck and began applying pressure, pinning me down into the mattress.  His clothed knee spread my legs open and pressed against my sensitive clit, driving more shivers up my spine and triggering a moan from my throat that only came out as a weak whimper.  His face leaned down to mine to give me slow, gentle kisses.  "My slut," he whispered between kisses, squeezing my throat harder, "I can’t believe I’m in love with a stupid disobedient bitch."

 The insults only made my core light up with satisfaction.  I closed my eyes and relaxed into his touch, forgetting about all the consequences I knew he would lay out for me in a few moments.  I could tell he missed me just as much as I missed him with how gentle and loving his kisses were in contrast to his hand suffocating me.  We kissed as if this was our last time ever seeing each other, as if the world was going to end in one minute.  My heart thumped with excitement as the realization that he was finally back home began to settle in.

 He released my poor throat and instead ran his fingers through my hair, massaging my scalp and deepening the kiss.  His lips began moving with a purpose, groans escaping and movements getting more and more desperate.  "[Y/N]," he muttered into my own lips, "I missed you so much, princess. You have no idea how badly I’ve wanted this."

 He slowly separated his face from mine and nuzzled his head into my neck, biting and suckling my already bruised skin from all the other love marks he had given me last week as a memento before he left.  "I’m not going easy on you after this, sweetheart. Savor my mercy while it lasts."

 I grew restless after a few minutes of him licking and nibbling at my neck and started to grind my hips on his knee, wanting some kind of advancement in this hazy evening.  He took notice of this and paused his kisses, lifting his eyes to meet mine.  I pleaded for more action with a pout, to which he replied by removing his knee and instead tucking his thighs below mine with my legs pinned at his sides.  I let out a shaky exhale at the realization that his bulge was mere inches away from my holes.

 "What's the hurry, princess?" he leaned down to run his hands up my sides, dragging my loosely fitted shirt along with him.  "Is there something you're waiting for?"

 He pulled the shirt up enough to expose my anticipating breasts, perked with excitement at his chilled fingers.  I gasped at the bite of the cold air he was manifesting.  "Kaeya, please..."

 “Please what?" he traced a finger on the underside of my breasts and planted more kisses across my collarbone, "Use your words, baby.”

 "Stop teasing me, please," I begged with shame, "You know I want you...  I need you inside of me..."

 He hummed as if he were processing my answer.  Instead of using his own words, he responded by completely pulling the shirt off of me and twisting it into a long strip.  He grabbed both of my hands and pinned them above my head, purposefully pressing his bulge against my aching hole.  He hesitated to look down at me, his eyes becoming consumed with pure lust.

 "Final warning, [Y/N].  Do you want to do this now?" Any remaining gentleness seemed to slowly spill out of his voice as he made it apparent he was asking for my consent.  My core lit up once more knowing we were just getting started.

 I trembled with a mixture of excitement and fear, not knowing what he had under his sleeve tonight after the touch deprived days that broke our usually consistent sex streak.  We were two lovers in desperate need of pleasure.  "I need to be fucked senseless," my voice shakily begged, "I need to be covered in your cum by sunrise, sir."

 He raised his eyebrows at the vulgar language that spewed out of my mouth, knowing how uncharacteristic it was for me to beg before we've begun.  Judging by the evil smirk that formed on his face, those two simple sentences were enough to send him over the edge and into complete darkness.  An evil chuckle escaped his lips. The glint in his eyes that was once loving and sweet became borderline malicious within seconds.

 "Safeword?" he breathily muttered with a grin.

 "Diluc," I sarcastically sneered at him, knowing how much he hated when I used his brother's name as a safeword, even if it was just a joke.  His hand quickly struck me across the face, catching me by surprise.  The sting made my eyes swell with small tears.

 "Fucking brat, always messing around with me," he chuckled.  "But you know, I could always arrange something for the three of us–"

 "Kaeya!" I interrupted him and he laughed at my flustered face.  We had been joking about a threesome for quite some time now.  At least... I was joking about it. Maybe he seriously meant it.

 He guided his hands to make me sit up then pinned my arms behind my back. "It’s just a suggestion," he grinned at the thought while tying my wrists together with my own shirt.  "Oh, to see my little princess squirm with both her holes pounded crying with pleasure and pain...  That would be quite the sight indeed, don't you think?"

 “Please shut up,” I giggled, bucking my hips into his for an ounce of stimulation.  He tightened the fabric around my wrists and tugged at it a few times to make sure it stayed in place.  He gently laid me down again, enjoying the sight of my naked body fully exposed to him.

 "Now for the fun part," he smiled.

 He sat up to take his own shirt off and set it aside.  My eyes widened at the sight of his toned torso, my mouth practically drooling as my gaze traced his muscular abdomen.  His delectable skin glistened in the light of the fading sunset and I couldn't help but stare at his beautiful body.  To my dismay, my staring was interrupted by his shirt being placed over my eyes as he blindfolded me, pausing the fantasies in my head that came with that delicious sight.

 I felt Kaeya’s hands turn my vulnerable body so my chest pressed against the bed, my back arching to greet his face with my holes.  He snickered at the sight of me being drenched as a result of him teasing me for the past ten or so minutes with kisses and cold fingers.  All I could feel was his chilled breath tormenting my wetness and a hand caressing my inner thigh.  "Seems like you're so eager to be touched despite ruining yourself with your own fingers.”

 "Y-yes," I whimpered as one finger outlined my entrance, making me gasp.  "More..."

 He suddenly slapped my ass with his other hand, earning a yelp from my throat.  "I’ll think about it after I punish you, cunt.  Don't think I have forgotten about that."

 He got off the bed to stand up and pulled my body closer to the edge of the mattress.  "Now, count to fifty."

 I hesitated.  "Fifty? What do you mean–"

   "Do I seriously need to repeat myself for your dumb whore brain?" he responded slowly and sternly as if he were spelling it out for me.  "Count to fifty now before I leave you here and drink at the tavern tonight instead. You wouldn’t want to waste an opportunity to get fucked stupid by my fat cock tonight, would you?"

   I paused again thinking about why he'd want me to count in this situation before shyly starting.  "One–"

 SLAP!

 "Fuck!" I instinctively buried my face into the sheets as his hand stung my ass.  That hurt way more than it should.  That's why he wants me to count?

 "If I hear anything out of that mouth other than numbers I will not hesitate to leave you here.  No cursing, no gasping, no moaning.  Do you understand?  Now pull yourself together and count.  Start from one again."

 I quivered at the thought of him leaving me here after already being separated for a week.  I suppose the pain I’ll soon endure is my punishment, after all. So with no hesitation, I obeyed what he told me to do.

 "One..."

 SLAP!

 “T-two...!"

 SLAP!

 It hurt so bad and it had barely begun.  “Three..."

 SLAP!

 “Pick up the pace, my little painslut.  You can handle it."

 "Four..."

 SLAP!

 “Five..."

 SLAP!

 "You're doing so well, princess."

 Soon enough, we were nearing the end.  I truly underestimated Kaeya's strength with each smack.  Sometimes I forget that he's a Knight of Favonius, that he has a vision, and that he trains nearly every day to maintain his strength.  His blows were hellish now in comparison to the first few counts, which were extremely gentle in hindsight.  And he never hesitated with each slap, as if he wanted to do this to me for a long time.

 “Forty eight..."  I was a teary eyed mess at this point, trembling at the pain that stung like a million needles.

 SLAP!

 “Forty nine..." I whimpered, thinking about how i got myself into this situation, never being punished by him like this before.

 SLAP!

 “F-Fifty!"

SLAP!

 I sobbed at the aching pain while he simply chuckled.  He sat next to me and sighed contently.  "How do you feel, princess?"

 "P-please stop...  no more..." I muttered incoherently as the pain didn't seem to fizz away.

 "You have a safeword you know.  But it would be a shame to stop now when we’ve only just begun," he caressed my bruised skin with care, making me flinch instinctively.   I gulped.

 No.  I'm not going to stop here.

 "Tell me how you feel, my love.  Don't be shy."

 I paused, struggling to come up with the right words when all my brain could focus on was the excruciating soreness.  "I-it hurts s-so much..."

 "I know, baby.  But that's what you get for disobeying me.  You’ve learned your lesson, I hope?"

 "Yes, I-I've learned my lesson, sir," I breathily cried, "I w-won't ever do it again..."

 Suddenly I felt his thumb caress my wetness, eliciting a gasp from my throat.  "Oh?  But it seems like you actually really enjoyed that," he played with my aching folds as I stifled my moans, not sure if I was allowed to make noise.  "Well, princess...  that's not what a punishment is for, don't you think?"

 He pulled away his hand as he stood up which made me whine at the loss of touch.  I heard him undo his belt, but once it was off, I didn't hear him unzip his pants like I had hoped for.  Instead, I felt a leather strip gently trail down my thigh.

 "Your skin isn't that pretty shade of purple I was hoping for either.  In fact, if I had to take a guess, I would say it's red from pleasure instead of pain."

 "Wait, Kaeya!  No, please, it really does hurt...!" I weakly muttered as the realization settled in when he gently tapped my skin with the looped leather.

 "I don't think you realize how long I've waited for a moment like this, baby," his gravely whisper struck a genuine fear into my stomach, "A moment when you'd slip up so I'd have an excuse to make you quiver in pain.  You've been such a good girl for so long that I've never had a moment where I can make you beg for my forgiveness.  Which, as a matter of fact, there hasn't been a single moment so far where you've begged.  I assume you haven't actually learned your lesson yet."

 He brought his hand up to prepare for a blow.  "I'm going to brand you.  I'm going to make your skin raw until I feel tired.  And I can last all night and all day, baby.  You know that."

 He whipped the belt down to meet my thigh, creating a new kind of pain that made me cry out in desperation.  This was a new side of Kaeya that I have never seen before.  A new darkness had consumed him so suddenly that I sat on the fence of being terrified and being turned on at the same time.

 And this was still only the beginning.

 "Convince me to forgive you or bleed.  Your choice."

 He immediately whipped me at a quick, consistent rhythm, paying more attention to my thighs in addition to my already bruised ass.  At times the belt would land on my holes, which made me twitch with excitement and agony at the same time. This isn’t like him. Why is he doing this to me?

 "K-Kaeya, please stop!" I moaned out after a few hits, "P-please stop, I'm begging you!"

 “Try again, slut."

 More hits landed with sharp hisses sizzling off of my skin.  "K-Kaeya, I'm so sorry!  P-please forgive me–"

 “I don't even know what you're apologizing for," he interrupted with that damned teasing tone of his, "Could you remind me again?"

 The blows got stronger, more urgent and unforgiving, hitting any inch of exposed skin even if it was already raw.  "I-I'm so sorry for disobeying you...  I'm sorry for t-touching myself without your permission...!  P-please stop, I just want you inside of me–"

 He paused the hits to emphasize his words, which were muttered through gritted teeth. "I don't give a single fuck about what you want, whore. You’re just a toy for my amusement and somehow you still managed to fuck up."

 He quickly resumed the stings. "I'll be a g-good girl from now on!  P-please...  Please just forgive me!  K-Kaeya!" my voice slowly raised in volume in cries for the pain to stop.

 "Dumb whore.  It’s funny that you think I believe you."

 “Y-yes, I’m a dumb whore!" I scrambled for words and just copied his. There was no use in begging anymore. A part of me hoped I would be beat to unconsciousness under him just to relieve myself of this pain momentarily.

 He let out a groan and a low maniacal laughter, "Seeing your veins under my belt makes my cock twitch, princess.  I'm not sure if I want to stop, even if you kept asking me to."

 I couldn't take it anymore.  The pain hurt so bad but as fucked up as it was, I was still so unbelievably aroused by him.  The thought of him getting so aroused by me pulled out some kind of satisfaction within, despite the borderline torture I was experiencing. Maybe he was so comfortable with hitting me because he saw my body as just another criminal to interrogate and punish. Maybe he was releasing pent up frustration on me. Why is all of this so arousing?

 I felt my core light up as my thighs squeezed together.  For a moment, I forgot about the pain and a wave of pleasure washed over my body, sending twitches through the nerves in my legs. "K-Kaeya, actually p-please stop, I think I'm gonna c-cum...!"

 He disappointedly cursed under his breath and let me feel one last blow for good measure before letting go of his grip on the belt and tossing it onto the bed.  “Fine. That’s enough for now.”

 He climbed over my curled up body so his bulge pressed against my tied hands near my tailbone, my head trapped between his hands on the mattress.  He stayed hovering over me, slowly panting.

 "I don't have enough words to describe how much you're turning me on right now," Kaeya began to slowly whisper.  I could feel how hard he was by how he nestled himself into my tied hands.  "Your body shaking under mine, shaking in pain and pleasure...  And to think you were going to cum by my belt alone...  You really are a slut, [Y/N]."

 "K-Kaeya, I'm your slut...  and I need your cock in me now," I weakly interrupted him, "I n-need to be fucked...  right now, please, I'm begging you..."

 He stayed there for a moment, taking in the sight of my helplessness before standing up at the edge of the bed again.  He guided my shaking torso up to finally flip me on my back, pulling me closer so my head hung over the edge.  My lower half felt so relieved to finally make contact with the soft sheets, which were slightly damp from sweat and possibly my own wetness. I felt him wrap the belt around my neck, letting the loop gently tighten around my throat as he tugged.  I couldn't help but be reminded that he could kill me here if he really wanted to.  I was completely surrendered to him.

 I heard him finally take off his pants with the other leg, the scent of his sweaty skin tickling my nose.  I have never longed to get this stupid blindfold off and lay my eyes on his figure already. It had been so long since we’ve seen each other and now that he’s here I couldn’t even fully appreciate the sight of him. Nevertheless, I felt the shadow of his cock drape over my face and let out an exhale before he tugged the belt to catch my attention.

 “Don't make me tell you what to do."

 I opened my mouth and stuck my tongue out eagerly which earned a chuckle from him.  He slowly pressed the tip of his cock into my awaiting throat, groaning loudly in the process.  he was surprisingly gentle about making sure I wouldn't choke immediately.  "F-fuck yes, [Y/N]...  taking all of it in like a good slut..."

 As soon as his long member hit the back of my throat, he tugged the belt tightly and groaned deeper.  My throat spasmed at the suffocating sensation which he responded to by pulling tighter.  I tried my best to relax.  "Behave," he reminded me.

 He began fucking my throat with no mercy, gradually quickening his pace but never pulling out or pausing to let me catch my breath.  He had trained my throat over the past few months for this, but the belt added a whole other level of difficulty and torment.  The muscles of my throat tightening around him more than usual made him breathlessly curse and praise me.  "Such a good slut...  My whore is doing so well taking my big cock...”

 He eventually let go of the belt to place both of his hands on either side of my face and fuck my mouth senselessly, ignoring my sputtering and cries for help at the suffocation.  It felt like I was drowning, but all I could think about was how good it felt to pleasure him, to hear his grunts and sighs of relief. His praises were consistent, a stark contrast to the way he degraded and pummeled me into the ground like a prisoner. Before I nearly passed out at the cut off oxygen, all his pent up frustration over the past week suddenly flooded my throat as his warm fluid was dumped into my mouth, deep groans and heavy breaths filling up the room.  His breath stuttered as I swallowed each pump of cum he fed me with hazy eyes, somehow enjoying this moment despite suffocating as he used his thumb to caress my face.  Kaeya placed a hand on the bed and pulled his hips away from my hanging head, leaning over my body and keeping only the tip of his cock inside my mouth.  I coughed and sputtered for a moment before pulling myself together to swirl my tongue over his tip, inciting a few twitches and extra drops of cum as a reward.  Tears and saliva painted my face, but at last, I finally caught a moment to breathe.

 "Keep licking and I might immediately cum again," Kaeya chuckled, cooling down from the heat of the moment.

 "I wouldn't complain," I playfully responded, letting out small coughs to clear my throat.

 "I suppose that's enough punishment for today," he gently lifted my head back up on the bed to provide better airflow.  He untied the blindfold off of my face so I could finally see him again.

 "Hi, handsome," I grinned, saliva dripping down my cheeks and into my hair. He ran his fingers through my hair and began massaging my scalp.

 "God... you are so inexplicably beautiful right now," he whispered desperately.  He began slowly stroking his cock in front of my face and deepened the massage, a proud yet cunning grin stretching across his face.  "But you'd look even more beautiful with my cum dripping out of your cunt, don’t you agree?"

 I moaned out his name and slowly lifted my knees up to my chest, teasingly using my hands to pull my thighs apart as an invitation. My eyes stayed locked with his. "Punishment's over, right?"

 He silently agreed, releasing his cock from his grip and taking another moment to catch his breath.  I watched him with pure lust in my eyes as he positioned himself at the crevice of the pillows in front of me then pulled my body forward to sit in his lap.  His sensitive cock twitched as the tip of his shaft kissed my dripping hole, aching to rearrange my insides.  He used one hand to pull himself down and shower my shoulder with bites and kisses, the other hand reaching down to massage my wet cunt, preparing for the night ahead.

 "My beautiful, stunning slut..." he growled into my ear between kisses, "I can't wait to see you completely destroyed by sunrise. You asked for it, after all."

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 136: Long Drive

Sorry friends. The second half of my week last week was really difficult and I went away for the weekend to recharge. Without further ado, here's the next ficlet. Thanks for your patience <3

---------

Harry loved the States for a lot of reasons; it was way easier to disappear here than in England; even if people knew his name, they were way less likely to recognize his face; you could basically pick any climate that you wanted and find a place that suited you; and lots of other weird things.

But mostly he loved road trips.

He loved the entire concept behind getting in a car and just driving. The road unfurling endlessly in front of him, windows down, radio turned up and blaring whatever struck his fancy. With Max in the car beside him, wagging his tail and sticking his head out of the window, Harry felt practically weightless.

"Alright, buddy," he told the pittie when he pulled over to grab some breakfast at a little diner, "You hang out in the back, yeah?" he asked, scratching behind his ears and pressing a kiss to the broad bridge of his nose. "Go on," he said, nudging him toward the back that Harry had magically enlarged and turned into a comfortable living space.

Muggles had campers and rvs but with a little bit of magic, the beaten up Subaru served him just fine.

He got out and hit the lock button, listening to the satisfying little beep as he headed toward the diner, catching up his curls and tying them into a loose messy bun on top of his head.

The diner was cute, all red and white checkered decorations and a counter with spinny stools. Harry sat down at one and grabbed a menu, perusing and trying to decide what to order when he heard the crash of something being dropped to the ground and breaking.

His head snapped up and he blinked, wondering if it had been too long since he'd gone to sleep because he had to be hallucinating. "Malfoy?" he spluttered.

(Read more below the cut)

But before the other man could respond there was a shout from the kitchen in the back, "Damn it! You clumsy, stupid ass!" the man shouted and Harry felt himself recoiling from the anger in his voice. "You'll be paying for that!"

"Yes, sir!" Malfoy shouted back, bending over and hastily sweeping up the pieces.

"Well don't mess around with that now!" he shouted. "You've got a customer, you worthless piece of-" his voice trailed off as he slammed a door in the back but Harry could fill in the rest.

"Malfoy?" he repeated as the man in question stepped over to him. "How on earth did you find me?" he asked.

"You found me, Potter," he snapped. "Not the other way around. Now what can I get you?"

"You actually work here?" Harry asked in befuddlement.

Malfoy gritted his teeth, "Obviously. Otherwise I wouldn't be wearing this stupid apron and I wouldn't be getting screamed at by the arsehole that owns this place. What can I get you?" he repeated.

"Umm," he said, glancing down at the menu, "I will definitely have a cup of coffee. And then maybe the first special on your board with scrambled eggs, bacon, and rye toast," he said. "And also grape jelly, if you have it."

"Got it," Malfoy replied, scribbling on the ticket. "Coming right up."

He spun on his heel and strutted off before Harry could say anything more and Harry just stared after him, wondering if he was dreaming.

Malfoy was back a few minutes later with a mug and a coffee pot, filling Harry's cup and sliding it over to him.

"Thanks," Harry said, reaching for the sugar. "What are you-"

"Look," Malfoy hissed, leaning over and keeping his voice low, "Please do not blow this for me. I know that you have no reason to help me but I really need this job, Potter."

Harry blinked and by the time he'd unstuck his tongue from the roof of his mouth, Malfoy was gone again.

It wasn't long before the other man emerged once more, carrying Harry's plate of breakfast. "Here you go," he said as he set it down and slid a couple of grape jelly packets toward him. "Enjoy. Do you need a warm up on your coffee?"

"Uhh," Harry replied, glancing at his half full cup, "Sure."

Malfoy nodded and grabbed the pot to refill his cup.

"When do you get off work?" Harry found himself asking.

The other man's brow furrowed, "Why?"

He shrugged as he slathered jelly onto his toast, "Thought it might be nice to catch up."

"To catch up?" Malfoy repeated. "Is that code for-"

"Hear about your life," Harry supplied.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed, "Fine. I get off at 10:00. If you pretend that you are just a customer passing through I'll give you fifteen minutes."

"Done," Harry replied easily. "So what touristy shite is there to do in this town until 10:00 am?"

-----------------

After he finished breakfast, Harry ended up just taking Max for a walk and then to the dog park to chase a ball around him. He'd worked hard to train him the first few months after he'd found him abandoned, tied up to a dumpster and all but starving. And Max had learned quickly, mastering basic commands in no time which was for the best, since people took one look at him and decided he was scary.

He wasn't, he was a sweet boy who loved people and who loved to play but it didn't seem to make any difference. Still, once he was trained, Harry had started taking him to the park and he wouldn't let other people bully them out.

Around 9:30, they headed back to the diner and Harry settled Max into the back, making sure his water bowl was full before he climbed back out of the car and leaned against the hood, waiting.

Malfoy emerged a few minuted after 10:00, looking a bit disheveled in his black t-shirt and skinny jeans, and immediately lit up a cigarette before looking around and spotting Harry. His eyebrows rose like he was surprised to see him before he squared his shoulders and made his way toward him.

"Hey," Harry said, straightening up as Malfoy approached him.

Malfoy blew a stream of smoke out of his mouth, "Hey?" he asked. "Is that really what you have to say to me?" He shook his head, "Just get it over with Potter," he said. "If you want to gloat just fucking gloat so I can move on and go get my groceries."

"I don't want to gloat," Harry protested.

"What do you want, then?" he asked scathingly.

And that was the question, wasn't it? What did Harry want? "Why are you working here?" he asked.

Malfoy rolled his eyes as he exhaled another puff of smoke, "It's amazing where you end up when you're a convicted death eater whose wand is monitored," he replied. "Then add to that the fact that it didn't seem to matter where I got myself set up in muggle London, someone found me and within hours I'd lose whatever job I'd been working. So here I am, just trying to get by and who should appear but the savior himself," he said with a little mock bow. "I should just put my two weeks in here now, at least-"

"I'm not going to tell anyone you're here," Harry said quickly.

"Right," he huffed sarcastically.

"I'm not," he argued, "Because if I told them where you are, they'd know where I've been."

"You're running away too?" Malfoy asked, cigarette dangling loosely from his fingers as he stared at Harry in surprise.

"Obviously," Harry replied. "Come on," he said after a moment. "Your feet must be killing you. I'm sure that arsehole doesn't give you breaks," he added as he opened the hatch.

"You want me to climb into the trunk of your car?"

He rolled his eyes, "I know you think I'm an idiot," he said, "But I'm less of one than you think. Just," he crawled in and stood up, "come on."

After a moment Malofy followed him through but before anything else could happen Max bounded over and all but climbed onto Malfoy's lap.

"Max-" he started to scold before Malfoy started talking over him.

"Oh, hello you sweet baby," he said, pulling Max further onto his lap so he could pet him better and scratch his neck. They looked ridiculous, Max was almost as big as Malfoy, but there he sat anyway, "hello. Aren't you a lovie?" he asked. "Yes you are. You're a giant lovie," he said.

And in that moment, Harry's mind was made up. "Have you ever gone on a road trip?" he asked.

Malfoy looked up at him and Max licked a stripe up his cheek. He laughed and stroked his side, "What?" he asked.

"Have you ever gone on a road trip?" Harry repeated.

"What is that?"

"Like a really long drive," he said. "Where you just get in your car and drive and stop for food when you want to and sleep when you want to." He scratched the back of his neck, "Max and I are headed to California to see the giant redwoods."

"That sounds nice for the two of you," Malfoy replied, steadily patting Max.

"Come with us," Harry said.

The other man blinked. "Sorry?"

"Just," he shrugged, "What else do you have here?"

"A job-"

"That you hate."

"A flat-"

"That is probably smaller than this," he said gesturing to the space they were sitting in.

"What happens when you get sick of me?"

He shook his head, "Come on. Just come with us. If I kick you out I'll give you $5000. That should be enough to help you settle wherever you want, right?"

"Why?"

He stared at him for a moment. There were a thousand reasons that flitted through Harry's mind, a thousand things that he could say, but none of them made any sense. Not yet at least. "Why not?" he settled on.

Malfoy took a slow inhale and then nodded once. "Fine, but you're going to need to make a second bed and we have to stop for my stuff."

"Done," Harry replied, grinning and feeling the familiar feeling of freedom that he felt when he was gliding down the open road unfurling in his chest.

Finally, he was going on an adventure worth having.

------------------

Day 135: Off-Guard | Day 137: Symmetry

[80s4life]

God Help Me*

Word Count: 2,306

Status: Not Requested!

Fandom: Orange Is The New Black

A/N: Just watched some more of oitnb and felt that Joe was an underrated character. So, here's something dirty for the dirty dog!

Relationship: Joe Caputo x Female Reader

Summary: (Based loosely on S3:E7 (”Tongue-Tied”) where the new recruits for security are supposed to be getting the 40 hours of training, but denied by the new employers. Specifically, when Bayley makes his mistake with the pepper spray incident, Caputo is outraged, in the need of a break. Luckily, you know how to ease his tension.

Warnings: language, age-gap pairing, against laws, forbidden, smut, retardation name calling (once, not me though, a line from the show!)

Taglist: @intersellars-the-networks-of-eve @snapessecretdiary

Masterlist Orange Is The New Black Masterlist

{gif is not mine, credits to @thompsonconnors}

"What the fuck was that?" Joe Caputo asks, confused and struggling to keep up with the messes every corner he turns. "You assess the situation and you respond with the appropriate level of force! And you never, ever, ever discharge your weapon unless it's absolutely necessary!" he continues, not done just yet. "And if you do, and that weapon happens to be pepper spray, you better damn well make sure you're upwind!"

Bayley, the new recruit, alongside Donaldson, a long-term member of this prison, look down, ashamed of themselves. Blinking their eyes every so often, the pain in their eyes searing with the combination of the regret in how they got in this position in the first place and the stinging pepper spray.

Motioning towards Bayley, Caputo continues with his mantra, "You are a trigger-happy knucklehead who just got out of diapers," now turning his attention to Donaldson, "But you, how could you let this happen?" he finishes, exasperated.

Donaldson, finding some courage, fires back, "Sir, with all due respect, I'm not a nanny." He may have screwed up, but he is not putting his life on the line for an idiot.

"No! You are an officer with 20 plus years' experience, and your job was to impart some wisdom on fucking Baby Huey over here!" Caputo spits, motioning towards Bayley once more.

"Well, this is what happens when you put untrained officers in gen pop," Donaldson says once more, although very quickly and almost fearfully. As if he were a child talking back to his parents.

"You don't think I know that? I fucking know that!" Caputo says once more, placing a hand over his head, letting out a tired sigh as he walks back behind his desk. "Bayley, I should be firing your ass," he motion towards the young man with two pointed fingers.

"I know," is all he manages meekly.

"But, it's your first day, so I'm gonna chalk this up to mental retardation. If you so much as look at an inmate wrong in the next week, you're out of here!" Caputo motions with a "whoosh." Now looking Bayley up and down in disbelief, he catches the small paper taped to his chest as well, "Take that stupid fucking name tag off."

As the men nod once more, he finishes with, "Now go! Get your asses down to medical and get an eyewash. And read the stupid fucking manuals!" he grunts, shaking the book in question and slamming it on his desk as the officers leave.

Throwing himself into his chair, he almost considers kicking and flailing around like a child in order to let off steam, but he is quickly denied the chance as you knock and burst through his office within a second.

“Sir.”

“What is it now?” he asks quietly, a hand holding his head up by his chin, fingers covering his now closed eyes.

“Well- uhm- well...” you continue, quite nervous as you don’t know where his hostility had come from, you being unsure whether it was your doing or not. It was uncharted waters you weren’t sure on stepping into or not.

“What. Is. It!?” he yells now, eyes wide open, hands clutching the ends of his armrests. Making you yelp and jump a bit, taking a few steps back into the doorway.

Seeing this reaction, he sighs once more, taking in your wide eyes and slightly tense posture, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell. It’s been a long day, okay?”

“I-I understand sir.”

“How many times have I told you to call me Joe, or Caputo if that’s what floats your boat?” he says, an attempt to coax you out of your startled state.

“I’m sorry s- Caputo. I only wanted to tell you that I bought ya’ something. A little gift, I guess.” you say, a blush tinting your cheeks.

“What? You didn’t have to get me anything!” He smiles now, relieving you, and bringing a smile to your own features at his now somewhat upbeat mood.

“Well, ya’ know...I remember you telling me about a band of yours, right?” you ask.

“Yeah,” he smirks, looking back at fond memories and the new ones with his new band.

“Well, since your style of music was rock, and I just so happened to be in the area of a new music store, I found some goodies there!” Pulling a seat in front of his desk, you grab the wrapped presents from the waistband of your belt, having hidden it behind your back in attempt to completely surprise him.

He smiles at your childish antics, lightly taking the wrapped good from your small, delicate hands. Unwrapping the smallest one, he finds a box underneath the covers. Opening it, his smile grows bigger as his eyes meet a black guitar pick, a skull etched into it and painted white. 

His eyes meet yours for a second, a fondness there, looking back down once more as he admires it. “I love it,” he says after a second.

“That’s not all!” you say, excited now as he already likes one of the things you’ve picked out for him, pulling out a medium-sized present next. You take this sudden change of attitude as a sign, wanting to hopefully ease the stresses the guards and staff have been taking, especially Joe.

Taking it from your hands once more, your hands make contact, the blush on your face intensifying a little more. Unwrapping the present, he finds a black bandanna, his band name printed onto it, matching the guitar pick. He giggles at this, tying it around his head for your view.

You laugh as well as you go to hand him the biggest and last of the presents, his eyes lighting up once he finds what it is. “Nu-uh! You didn’t! This must’ve cost a fortune!” he almost yells now, a genuine leather guitar strap in his grip as he jumps up from his seat.

“No, actually they gave me a little discount on it. It took a lot of searching to get the one you’ve been specifically looking for, but the guy said I was cute- anyway! I just thought you needed these since work has been beating your ass,” you say, smirking lightly.

“You didn’t need to do this,” he says, settling back into his seat as he grasps your hands lightly, still star-struck as he looks at the strap still in his hand.

The gesture was innocent, but as time goes on, you blush a deep red, him still not letting go of your hands. Noticing this, he goes to pull away, clearing his throat, standing, and straightening out his suit. There, you notice a slight tent in his pants, igniting a flame in your belly. 

“Well, thank you Miss Y/L/N, these were very nice...”

“Anytime...” you say slyly, dragging on your words as you stand as well, not bothering to fix your pants as it sticks tightly to your ass and thighs. 

He looks down, gulping as he takes in your curves he usually tries to ignore, clearing his throat once more as his eyes meet yours. Only now did he realize the close proximity between the two of you, you intending to lean in and fix his tie. As you do so, he grabs your hand, pulling it away, “Don’t tempt me. You don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn sure I do,” you say as you pull him down to your height by the tie, pulling at the base of his neck, kissing him now. 

Breaking apart for a moment, you make your way around the desk, perching yourself atop it as you pull him between your legs, kissing him once more. Tongues fighting for dominance, you tease him, sucking on it, and nibbling on his lips. He growls, the tent now very evident in his pants, the tightness an annoying constriction.

He pulls away once more, going to lock his office door, having placed a ‘On a lunch break’ sign above his name. Making his way back over to you, his lips attach to yours once more, moving to remove your weaponry belt. You do the same, unbuttoning the top of his dress shirt, moving to leave kisses, bites and hickeys. 

Continuing your attack, you move your hand to his belt, working quickly as he unbuttons your shirt, exposing your constricted, perky breasts. He grunts once more, adding to your eagerness as you finally get his belt out of the loops. Now both full of impatience, you unleash his cock, him doing the same for your breasts and pants. Completely removing everything from your being, leaving your half-unbuttoned shirt.

Not wasting time, he starts to work your clit, moisturizing ever bit of you as he collects it and moves his finger in all the most special parts, lubricating your core with ease. You grip his cock, teasing it as you run your finger along the slit at the top, precum already oozing. Looking him in the eyes, you notice his golden browns now a dark chocolate eyes, admiration sparkling them as he looks back at you. 

You moan as he enters a finger into your core, soon adding another as you loosen yourself for him. Finally, when he deems you ready, he reaches into one of the desk drawers, pulling out a condom. Motioning to him, he hands it over, letting you take over and do the honors. He simply places both arms on either side of your form, caging you in his embrace, smirking down at you.

Finally, once the condom was rolled onto his member, he goes to line himself up to your entrance, tip placed right at the beginning, not crossing the threshold just yet. “Are you sure?” is all he asks, wanting consent.

Knowing that this is wrong, you contemplate your options. You have already thought of the many ways he could take you, having been attracted to the older man for many years. Looking him in the eyes, you nod, “I’ve wanted this for too fucking long.”

With this new reassurance, he thrusts deeply, not giving you a chance to adjust just yet, pushing in and not stopping until he’s bottomed out. Taking a breath, you relish in the familiar sting of being stretched out, leaning back on your elbows for a minute. When you’re finally ready, you grab onto his shoulders, nodding once again. 

He starts slow, not wanting to hurt you, but, as you bite his pulse point, he jumps, taking the hint. Pounding into you mercilessly now, you moan and scream loudly, meeting his thrusts with the same momentum and speed, wanting this just as much as he does.

Instead, wanting to hold onto this feeling for as long as you can manage, you busy yourself with admiring and teasing the man before you. Specifically when he switches positions slightly, hitting your g-spot, your hands find their way into the tiny tufts of hair remaining on his balding scalp. Tugging lightly, he groans, pounding harder.

“Fuck!” you choke out, “I’m gonna cum! Joe! I’m gonna cum!”

“Just hold on a bit more, I’m almost there!”

Using his hands, he moves one to your clit, rubbing hard circles, intensifying the pleasure. You moan, the pleasure almost too much for you, settling for leaning your head on his chest. The chest hair tickles your nose, making you giggle between whimpers, kissing him there every so often.

With all your strength, you try to maintain your composure, the knot in your stomach begging for release. But, as you feel his dick twitch, the veins touching every inch of your walls deliciously, you couldn’t hold on any longer, milking his cock. With the sudden tightness and feeling of warmth bursting against him, he continues to thrust just a few seconds more, riding you through your orgasm as he meets his. 

As he slowly comes down from his high, he sighs peacefully, placing his head underneath yours and in the crevice of your neck. You kiss the top of his head as you take his weight, leaning back on your hands, one wrapped around his neck. After a moment, as he now goes soft within your being, he pulls out, disposing the condom.

Smiling, the two of you joke and throw clothes at each other as you get changed again. “So what are we now, Joe?”

“Well, it’d be fucked up to say nothing after mind-blowing-sex, now wouldn’t it?”

“I guess...So does that mean we’re together?”

“Do you want to? I would’a thought a young girl like you would want someone who can keep up with ya’?”

“I mean yeah...but they aren’t you, Joe. I want you,” you say honestly.

“Shit...” he mutters, smiling now, “This is the best thing that’s happened to me all day.”

“Is that a ‘yeah’?”

“Hell yeah it is!” he says happily, “Now how about round 2?”

“You’re on Old Man,” you say giggling, hopping into his lap on his desk, kissing him once more.

However your giggling and kisses get cut short with a knock on the door. You sigh, getting off of him not and making sure your clothes are straightened out.

“I guess not...” you say defeated.

“Well...Not right now,” Joe answers, going to the door, giving a sly wink as he opens it. 

Work is only temporary, you know this. You’ll get all the time you need with him tonight.

[skellebonez]

Could we have more overprotective dad Macaque from Winter Cursed au? Perhaps with 7 and 14?

You asked for Overprotective Dad Macaque, but you also get Incredibly Worried Son MK to go with that! @winterpower98 fuels my DadMac fills so much. (There are some callback references to older fills for this au but none need to be read to understand this)

Stop acting like a child!/Am I scaring you?

They sat in silence for longer than they had since returning from their little adventure. The one Macaque had started in the first place. It almost felt like they were back there again, close to the end, after the truth came out and they sat with Sun Wukong around a fire as they rested for the end to it all.

Except they weren't there again. They were on the sand covered shores of Mount Huaguo, a few small monkeys surrounding them now that the air between them had calmed.

MK had been playing with some of baby monkeys on the island while the Monkey King was off doing... well, something with the rest of the older monkeys. He wasn't entirely sure what it was, maybe he was just taking stock of their health, but the younger ones were getting bored once Wukong had finished apparently and MK arrived just in time to help by keeping them distracted since Macaque had no patience for that himself and had wandered off long ago.

And keep them distracted he did! He did such a good job that he had kept himself distracted and hadn't noticed they made it to a portion of the beach shore that had sharp rocks.

Until he ended up falling and nearly got a face full of sharp rock (and as tough as he was that still would have hurt), only to be saved by the firm grip of Macaque grabbing his jacket and yanking him back to his feet.

MK barely managed out a thank you before Macaque laid into him. He'd never seen the immortal monkey quite like... this before. And he'd seen just as many sides of this man as a set of dice. It was less like he had seen MK nearly trip and fall and more like he had saved him from being maimed by the latest demon of the week because he wasn't taking the fight seriously. He was angry, but under that anger was a clear current of worry and... fear. And he looked tired, so tired.

It wasn't until he had tried to ask him what was wrong and Macaque yelled "Stop acting like a child!" at him, scaring away the monkeys that were on his shoulders the whole time, that the immortal seemed to realize what he had been doing. His eyes widened, and he covered his face with a groan (MK noticed his hands were shaking then) and... apologized.

That wasn't anything MK expected to hear from him. And it was worrying.

Eventually MK managed to coax Macaque into sitting down on ground, the elder almost stumbling a bit in the process, before he removed his headband and let his messed up hair down. He sat in front of him, his intentions clear and picked up immediately as Macaque groomed through his hair with a half growl in his throat.

Something was... well, he didn't want to say "wrong". But that's what it felt like. This felt wrong. It didn't take a genius to tell Macaque had been acting odd the last few weeks. The immortal monkey looked tired all the time, as if he never slept... to be frank, MK was starting to believe the only times he did sleep were when he has been caught by Mei dozing off before she arrived for training with his caffeine fix.

But that wasn't the only thing.

"Am I scaring you?" MK asked after a while, kicking at the sand they rested on. "Is Mei scaring you?"

Had it been a few months back Macaque would have said no, MK was certain of that. There nothing the young man could have done that would cause him to worry at the time. He could have jumped from the tip top of any of the many volcanoes surrounding them and Macaque would have watched him do so with maniacal glee. But now...

"Do you want me to be honest?" Macaque asked, his tone closed off and hard to determine now. The only thing that gave away how he felt was fingers working through his hair more smoothly as his tail thumped against the sand beside them.

It started out small. When they first came back Macaque would generally not be too phased by the day to day life of Monkie Kid and Company, only noting and helping treat and injuries MK got during battles or training.

But then he would take a longer and closer look at MK every time they met up, then Mei after he took her under his wing for "absolutely not training". Then came the day he was treating an injury on his back and saw his scar. The one on the back of his head that was hidden under his hair (he felt Macaque pause for a second when his fingers brush against it, immediately moving to the other side of his head).

He couldn't have been sure whether or not that was when Macaque had stopped sleeping or if it was even related, but that's when he started to notice it. The bags under his eyes, the way his gaze would loose focus as he would lose himself in thought... and then much later the way he seemed to jump at things that weren't there. MK had his share of sleep deprivation in the past and if Macaque was as bad as he thought the monkey was... he was almost certainly experiencing hallucinations.

"I do," MK said firmly, wrapping his arms around his knees as he watched a pair of baby monkeys tussle in front of them. He leaned back a bit with a wince when Macaque caught a particularly bad knot in his hair. That must have come from the grip one of the baby monkeys had on him. "After everything we've been through? I'd prefer honesty." There was a flinch from Macaque behind him, judging by the thump of his tail and the way his knees hit MK's back it must have been a full body flinch. MK immediately felt bad. "Sorry... that was a bit of a low blow."

"Not unwarranted," Macaque sighed out, wrapping MK's headband around his forehead and tying it back up with more care than he treated the knot in his hair. He went silent, rubbing his eyes and looking for all the world an absolute wreck. He needed to sleep, clearly, but was fighting it off even now. "...Kid it's... complicated."

"Everything about our lives is complicated," MK replied, turning in time to see one of the monkeys he had carried to the beach jump into Macaque's lap for a grooming session of their own. He couldn't help but smile as he complied, grumpy expression set on his face as he went through the motions. "You don't have to tell me everything, not even eventually. Even I have things I don't tell anyone else."

Macaque looked up at that for only a moment, but his ears raised in indication that MK had his full attention. "I don't doubt that for a second, somehow."

"Just... is it something I did?"

"No," Macaque said quickly, shaking his head and scowling deeply. "No, Kid, I swear it's not anything you did. Or are doing. It's all on me."

"So Mei and I aren't scaring you, but you're scared for us," MK guessed, watching Macaque's face twisted in surprise and frustration. "Am I right?"

"Sometimes I forget how smart you are..." Macaque muttered, and MK clearly wasn't supposed to hear that. He pretended he didn't.

"I can promise to be more careful if you promise to try to sleep tonight," MK offered without missing a beat. "You don't have to worry about me so much if I'm more careful, but I'm worried about you too. You look..."

"Half dead, yeah, Peaches has made that very clear," Macaque said with a chuckle. But he nodded, tossing the baby monkey in his lap up to a nearby tree branch they caught with ease and watched them scurry up and up until they found one to settle down on. "I can't promise I will... but I can promise I can try."

"Trying is great."

Macaque didn't even get the change to "try" to sleep, as he moved to the base of said nearby tree and asked MK about his last few days. He didn't make it 5 minutes before dozing off, but MK didn't stop talking.

He wasn't sure if Macaque had passed out from exhaustion or if hearing the mundane actions of daily life with no demons around assured Macaque he had been alright and would be alright for a while. Overprotective Papa Monkey not needed for now. But just in case it was the later he went on and on, monkeys eventually surrounding them to listen as well.

If Macaque looked more relaxed than MK had seen him in a long while, and if he seemed to smile a bit in his sleep when MK accidentally called him "Pop" again... that was their secret for the day.