#i took two breaks to write reflections within an hour of each other. lol

[britneyshakespeare]

i feel so empty inside

[manonblaqkbeak]

Dating and Goodreads

Back for Day 8-Blind date (how the hell do u guys come up with good title fics i struggle so bad lol). I wasn’t really going anywhere with this one, but when i read all of the others and saw how fun the fics were, i decided to finish this one.

also for Summertime and Fresh Strawberries, I deliberately left it blank but I can’t hold onto the secret bc two people were curious as to what happened, so i’ll let the rest of you know that aelin and rowan decided to keep summer and be a cute little family, bc im a sucker for happy endings lol (unless its angst, it’s safe to assume that all my rowaelin fics have happy endings bc they’ve all ready been thru so much and even in alt fics i need them to be happy lmao)

anyway, on to the next one. hope you enjoy!

1.8k words

cw: none

Aelin was a confident woman, something that she was proud of. But that didn't mean that there weren't times she didn't feel self-conscious or awkward and full of doubt.

Because right now, all those negative feelings were swimming inside of her.

And those feelings were just magnified today, especially since she had gotten fired only a few hours beforehand. It was utterly unexpected, she had never received any prior warnings, and while she was a fighter, Aelin didn't feel like stepping into the ring for this one. Not when her boss was a demon from hell that made life unbearable and she had to physically push herself into entering the work building.

Aelin told herself that it was for the best. She was miserable there and hated working in an office typing up the worlds most boring reports and working in a space that was entirely too drab.

But she wasn't looking forward to job hunting. Aelin was aware that she could ask her friends for favours, but if Aelin did something wrong, she didn't want it reflected back onto whoever helped her.

And she was still a little peeved over the damned argument she had online again with that haughty prick on Goodreads. Aelin wasn't sure why those arguments kept going, but each time she would post a review, White Tailed Hawk would respond, telling her that she read the book wrong and this and that and blah blah blah.

Aelin repaid the favour each time, telling him how he was wrong and he had no reading comprehension skills. And on and on it went until Aelin or whoever the fuck that guy was went back to their own lives.

Depressingly, it was the most fun she had some days.

Shaking her head, Aelin forced herself to think of the now and not of her shitty day. Still she sighed, not quite believing that she had agreed to this blind date. Couldn't believe that she had let Aedion convince her it was a good idea.

Aelin had said no at first, after Aedion had voiced his offer, and her cousin left it at that. But days went past, and he would bring up the topic of Rowan, about the things he had said that day, how his dry sense of humour took some time to get used to but once you figured it out, he was actually pretty funny, how he had finished a project perfectly and this and that.

But it got to her, annoyingly. So the other day when he was helping her out with some housework that was a two person job, Aelin told him to set up this date. Aedion cheered as if it was the best thing he had ever heard, telling her how she and Rowan were the perfect match for each other.

Aelin rolled her eyes, but didn't say anything of the assessment.

She had only agreed because it was getting frustrating being asked at every family event if she was dating someone, when she was going to give her parents grandchildren (that question pissed her off the most, as if Aelin was nothing but a birthing machine and that was all Aelin could contribute to society), and who was going to look after her when she was old if she didn't have children (because apparently carers didn't exist).

Aelin was also lonely—she could entertain herself just fine, but she did like the idea of coming home and talking to someone that could respond. She loved Fleetfoot and her enthusiasm when Aelin came home, but human companionship would be nice.

But Aelin didn't have high-hopes for this date because the universe liked to kick Aelin's ass from time to time, she suspected that they were going to hate each other.

Taking a deep breath, Aelin got out of her car, smoothed down her romper and went inside the restaurant, head held high.

X X X X X X

Rowan couldn't believe that he was about to go on a blind date. That Aedion had convinced him to go out with his younger cousin. He hadn't dated anyone since Lyria and he knew that his dating skills were going to be rusty as hell. He had been with Lyria since they were nineteen, married at 23 and divorced at 31; he had been single for the last two years.

It had been...fine, a little strange, after being with someone for so long to find himself a bachelor. Rowan never thought that he would apart from Lyria, but their relationship had just faded. Long before the divorce, it had been more like a housemate relationship than a marriage. He wasn't surprised when his ex-wife had come home after work with divorce papers. He had only stared at the paperwork for an hour before he signed the forms. Truthfully, Rowan was just glad that he was still on good terms with Lyria, that they could still talk to one another from time to time.

Rowan had almost called her earlier today, to ask how the hell dates went, but felt that it would have been crossing some invisible line, so he didn't call and instead had Googled the questions instead.

They didn't really help.

Rowan drummed his fingers against the steering wheel, telling himself that if things went wrong, then it wasn't the end of the world. That if he had to be a bachelor for the rest of his life, then that was fine. He had plenty of ways of keeping himself busy—he had a good career, a nice house, plenty of books to read and to argue online about them with.

He had one earlier today, actually, with Queen of Wildfire about a new release that Rowan had eagerly read within days of its release. And once again, he ended up with an argument with the woman about the messages and themes within the book.

It was stupid, he knew, to be at his age and to be fighting online with a stranger, but something about this woman just had his fingers flying over the keyboard.

Some days he looked forward to it, as embarrassing as that was to admit. He didn't really want to look into himself to figure out what it all meant.

Eyes drifting to the dashboard, Rowan realised that his date was about to start. Popping a mint into his mouth and smoothing out his clothes, Rowan took a deep breath and left the car and went to his first date in twelve years.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

X X X X X X

The date had started out a little awkward, but that wasn't a surprise to Aelin, because what blind date started smoothly?

It picked up after Rowan admitted that he was divorced and that he had no idea what the hell he was supposed to do. Aelin appreciated that stark honesty and admitted that she too had no idea what to do.

Since then, the conversation went well, the food was good and Aelin had even swiped a few bites of his dinner because it just looked so much better than hers. Rowan had playfully grumbled underneath his breath, but smiled as he said it.

It was going really well. Maybe the universe had decided to give her a break for the rest of this evening. There was a part of her that maybe wondered if they would have sex, because the man did look fucking fantastic, but at the same time, she didn't want to rush anything in case this actually turned into something more.

“What's the dumbest thing that you've done recently or in the past?” Aelin asked. There was no such thing as small talk between them—Aelin had all ready asked if he believed in aliens and was glad when he said yes, because “it's ridiculous to think that we're alone in this wide universe of ours. It makes sense that there'd be other lifeforms out there.” Which was pretty damned close to Aelin's reasoning as well, so asking him about stupid moments felt like nothing in comparison.

Rowan smirked at the question and took a moment to think before answering. “I engage in online arguments.”

“Really? About what, exactly?”

“It's stupid. But my all my arguments occur on Goodreads of all places. Not Facebook, or YouTube, or Twitter, but Goodreads. It's never anything insulting but just arguments about how wrong some people's in depth reviews are.”

“Fair enough,” Aelin said, “I've been known to do the same thing as you. There's this one user on there, White Tailed Hawk—a stupid name if you ask me—and he just never...” Aelin stopped when she noticed that he stopped eating and was just looking at her weirdly. “Rowan? Are you okay?”

“Do you, by any chance, go under the name of Queen of Wildfire?”

Aelin blinked, and then blinked again, and once the pieces fell into place, she knew right then and there that the universe really hated her. She let out a harsh laugh, the sound echoing throughout the space. Aelin wasn't really sure what to say, because it was true what he said; it had never been insulting, but ending up on a date with the man she had regularly arguments with was just...she had no words, other then, “It really is a stupid name.” She took a sip of her wine, needing to do something other than wanting to bang her head against the table.

“I couldn't think of anything else to write.” And it wasn't also his favourite animal, he had told her that earlier.

They lapsed back into the awkward silence of earlier, both picking at their food.

But Aelin didn't want this night to go to waste. “It'd be stupid to let something as small as this get in the way of whatever this could be,” Aelin said, deciding to be blunt.

Rowan nodded. “It would be. Although I have to be honest, you really have no idea what you're talking about when it comes to Call of the Wild Winds.”

Aelin just about stormed off when she noticed his playful smile, his eyes sparkling bright. Laughing, Aelin threw a bread-roll at his handsome face, and once he caught it and split it in half for them to share, they went back to their earlier conversation.

And when Rowan walked her to her apartment door and kissed her on the cheek goodnight with a promise to text her later, Aelin couldn't help herself by telling him that all his opinions sucked and that he had no idea what he was talking about—all with a big smile on her face as Rowan sputtered as she closed the door on his face.

They spent the rest of the night texting, and all of Aelin's earlier woes faded away. And she looked forward to tomorrow, despite the horror of job hunting. Maybe the universe will finally let things turn around for the better for her.

Aelin went to sleep with a smile on her face, all because of White Tailed Hawk.

And on the other side of the city, Rowan also fell asleep with a smile on his face.

[mysterioushogwartsrequests]

Would you do a slight NSFW Draco Malfoy imagine of him dating a Slytherin who's good friends with Hermione, Ron and Harry and she manages to convince Draco to go to the Three Broomsticks with the Golden Trio and be cordial with them since she's promised him some alone time if he's nice to them since she wants them to see that he's not all bad because they don't get what she sees him in?

Hello! This one took forever to write, I lowkey got stumped and I couldn’t figure out how to write the ending, lol. I didn’t want to go all-in so this is what I came up with. I love Draco Malfoy so I want to do him justice!

                                           ϟ ϟ ϟ

Draco watched as (Y/N) (L/N) adjusted her lipstick in his dormitory mirror, studying her silhouette as she bent over his dresser. As an upcoming superstar for the Slytherin Quidditch Team, (Y/N) was quite popular and often found herself being the center of attention. But once the school caught wind of her relationship with the Draco Malfoy, it did not take long for them to be considered the power couple of Slytherin House. However, despite sharing a perfectly healthy relationship, there were a few students that questioned (Y/N)’s partner of choice.

These complaints came from the three most determined students of Gryffindor House. Despite being in separate houses, the Golden Trio and (Y/N) managed to become great friends, effectively breaking the hateful stereotype between Gryffindor and Slytherin relationships. During their second year, (Y/N) found herself in quite the predicament when she fell off a borrowed broom hours past curfew. She spent a fair amount of time sprawled across the training grounds staring up at the starry sky trying to ignore the excruciating pain of her broken arm. It was then that Harry, Ron, and Hermione stumbled upon her still body as they pursued the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets. Hermione Granger was the first to approach her, momentarily scolding (Y/N) for breaking the rules before examining the extent of her wounds.

Harry and Ron followed cautiously behind Hermione, the two of them exchanging worried looks before kneeling beside (Y/N).

“It’ll be alright,” said Ron with a sympathetic smile, “We’ll take care of you.” 

From that day on the four of them were inseparable. Which was a natural outcome when a group fabricated lies to fool Madam Pomfrey or any other staff member, for that matter. When they were not chasing dangerous creatures within Hogwarts, they often spent their time near the Quidditch Pitch, with Harry and Ron teaching (Y/N) the basics of the game while Hermione reviewed her books from the ground. As time went on (Y/N), and Hermione calmly listened to Harry and Ron’s rants about Draco Malfoy and how much they despised him. 

Being from the same house as Draco Malfoy, (Y/N) often found herself conflicted between choosing her friends and abiding by the “your house is like your family” statement. She could not think of one occasion where Malfoy had been rude to her directly, but she could not excuse his behavior towards her friends. It was not until Professor Snape paired them up for a Potions essay that (Y/N) and Draco began learning more about each other. Draco was used to boasting and putting on a show in front of other students, but he quickly realized that (Y/N) would not succumb to his usual tricks.

Draco lay comfortably against his bed, his arms crossed behind his head as his eyes landed on the plaid pleated skirt his loving girlfriend decided to wear for their Hogsmeade trip. (Y/N) looked at Draco’s reflection, a devious smile playing at her lips as she bent forwards, giving her boyfriend a better view of what he quietly desired. At this movement, Draco clicked his tongue and scowled in her direction, swiftly rising from his four-poster, and making his way towards her. 

“Little nymph,” uttered Draco against her ear, rubbing small circles against her hips as she straightened up, “We could just stay. Avoid the trouble... and have a little fun ourselves.” Under different circumstances, Draco would have been thrilled to visit Hogsmeade with his beloved, but he knew they would not be spending the afternoon alone. 

(Y/N) cleared her throat, her eyes landing on the silver “I” on Draco’s robes before excellently replicating Professor Umbridge’s high-pitched voice, “Boys and girls are not permitted to be within eight inches of each other,” she teased, leaning back into Draco’s grip as he scoffed. Spinning her around, Draco lifted her onto his dresser, pushing her skirt up farther up her thighs. 

“I’d like to think I can change your tune rather quickly,” Draco snapped, pressing chaste kisses against the smooth skin of her neck, “I’ll never understand how you imitate that woman so perfectly” he added, earning a giggle from (Y/N).

“One of my many talents,” retaliated (Y/N), wrapping her arms around Draco’s neck, “You know, I can’t help but think this is your way of distracting me” she added, twirling small strands of his platinum blonde hair.

“Ugh,” groaned Draco, “I just don’t understand why we have to spend our Saturday with Potter and his stupid friends,” he spat but quickly scowled at (Y/N)’s hurt expression. 

“I’ve told you before, Draco,” (Y/N) frowned, “They’re my friends too and I wish for us to get along. It took me a while to convince them, but they’ve agreed to give you one more chance,” she said, placing her hand against her boyfriend’s cheek, “I want them to see the real you, the Draco I fell in love with.”

Draco turned his head away from (Y/N) but held her hand to acknowledge her words. Despite being together for a little over a year, he still found it quite difficult to let his guard down completely. He supposed it was due to his family’s teachings and the expectations of his Father, but throughout his relationship with (Y/N), he came to realize there were far more important matters. One of them being keeping (Y/N) (L/N) safe and content. 

“Fine,” Draco uttered, his grey eyes meeting hers, “I’ll do it for you, Darling” he added, pressing a gentle kiss against her forehead before capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. (Y/N) smiled against his kiss, pressing her forehead against his once he pulled away. 

“I appreciate it, Draco,” She whispered, pressing a light kiss against the tip of his nose, “and don’t forget, I promised you a little reward if you behave.” (Y/N) added seductively, leading Draco’s hands underneath her short skirt. 

Draco hummed contently, harshly squeezing the back of her thighs and lifting her against his body, her legs wrapping instinctively over his hips, “Well then, I’ll make sure to be on my best behavior,” He said, kissing her once again and setting her down in front of him, “We better get going, it’s not polite to keep them waiting.”

(Y/N) laughed at his change of behavior, taking one final look in the mirror, and heading towards the door. A loud smack suddenly filled the room, earning a small yelp of surprise from (Y/N), “Draco!” she exclaimed, turning to face her seemingly innocent boyfriend, “Why don’t you save the spanking for later?” she teased as Draco chuckled. 

“Alright, alright,” He added, raising his arms defensively, “but you are aware of how much I adore those little skirts you wear.”

(Y/N) opened the door of the boys’ dormitory and took another glance back at Draco, “and that is exactly why I wear them,” She winked and scurried down the stairs, filling the stairwell with her giggles as Draco chased behind her. 

                                            ϟ ϟ ϟ

Meanwhile, at the Three Broomsticks, Ron Weasley let out his fourth impatient huff of the afternoon, leaning his hand into his palm with a noticeable scowl on his face. “I can’t believe we’re doing this,” he grumbled, taking another swig of his Butterbeer as they waited. 

Hermione sighed once again, “Ron, this is for (Y/N), just try to give him a chance.” Even though she was attempting to sound positive, Hermione could not help feel wary of what was to come. They had never seen eye to eye with Draco Malfoy and his new position on Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad made the situation even more cumbersome. 

“Ron’s right, Hermione,” added Harry, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned back into his seat, “I find it hard to believe that Malfoy has a ‘good’ side.” Hermione scoffed at his words, glaring at the crabby boys beside her, “Oh, stop it!” exclaimed Hermione, “You two know how much (Y/N) cares for him, we at least have to make the effort to talk to him.” Ron and Harry looked towards each other, exchanging abhorrent looks until Hermione elbowed them both. 

“Bloody hell, Hermione!” exclaimed Ron, tenderly rubbing his aching side, but quickly shut up once he noticed the presence of his friend (Y/N) and her boyfriend. Hermione quickly rose from her seat and greeted (Y/N) with a tight hug before awkwardly turning to face the silent Draco Malfoy. 

“Hello, Draco” she greeted, extending her hand for him to shake. Draco shifted his eyes towards (Y/N) who gave an encouraging nod as he gripped Hermione’s outstretched hand. 

“Hello, Granger,” He replied, a meek smile playing at his lips as he turned towards the boys sitting at the booth, “Weasley, Potter, good to see you.” 

Ron absentmindedly let his jaw drop, hesitantly replying “Erm- Good to see you too, Malfoy”, carelessly scratching his head as Hermione returned to her seat beside him. Harry, however, did not speak, he only acknowledged Draco with a subtle nod of the head as he sipped his Butterbeer. Draco smiled towards (Y/N), pulling a chair out and gesturing for her to take a seat, “I’ll go order us some more drinks,” He stated, kissing the top of his girlfriend’s head before sauntering away.

  Ron watched Draco go in shock, “good to see you?!” he whispered harshly, slapping his hand against his forehead, “I sound like a prat!”. Hermione scowled once again, shooting a reassuring look towards (Y/N), “Ron’s just getting used to this, I’m sure he’ll behave once Draco returns” she stated comfortingly, taking (Y/N)’s hand into hers with a smile, “But honestly, I didn’t expect him to say that either.”

(Y/N) laughed, patting the top of Hermione’s hand as she glanced back at Draco at the bar, “I told you he was polite,” she added with a grin, “You just have to get to know him.” With nearly perfect timing, Draco returned and took a seat next to his girlfriend, wrapping his arm around the back of her chair. Ron examined the situation carefully, his protective instinct rising as Malfoy got closer to his friend.

“Madam Rosmerta will bring our drinks soon, I also requested an assortment of pastries” Draco spoke out, lacing his fingers with (Y/N)’s underneath the wooden table, “My treat,” he added, earning a satisfied smile from his girlfriend. 

Some of Ron’s animosity disappeared at the mention of free food and he gave a small nod of appreciation towards Draco, “Thanks, Malfoy” he uttered, looking towards Harry and Hermione who were also having a difficult time understanding this “new” side of Malfoy. 

A wave of silence fell over them. It seemed like they were unsure of who should speak first, but upon feeling the gentle squeeze of (Y/N)’s hand, Draco cleared his throat, “So, (Y/N) tells me you two taught her how to play Quidditch,” he added, nodding his head towards Harry and Ron curiously. 

“Uh, yeah,” Harry replied, speaking up for the first time since the couple’s arrival, “(Y/N)’s a natural though, it didn’t take long for her to learn the basics.” 

“That reminds me,” added Ron, grinning as Madame Rosmerta set down their freshly baked pastries and full goblets of Butterbeer, “(Y/N), you haven’t told us your favorite Quidditch team! I think you should have a pretty good idea at this point,” he said, bringing his cup to his lips to take a generous gulp. 

(Y/N) took the opportunity to play a joke on her friends, taking a bite of her warm apple tart before saying, “Why! The Chudley Cannons, of course!” 

Harry immediately regretted taking such a big drink, choking on the liquid before (Y/N) even finished her sentence. Hermione let out a panicked squeal, patting Harry’s back as he violently coughed, “T-The Chudley Cannons?! Have you gone mad?!” He exclaimed tearfully, looking towards (Y/N) in bewilderment. 

Ron subtly placed his hand over his mouth, concealing his smile as Harry finished up his coughing fit. Draco, on the other hand, could not hide his amusement and snickered at Potter’s antics. (Y/N) burst laughing at Harry’s reaction, quickly shaking her head, “I was just pulling your leg! The Chudley Cannons are complete rubbish!” 

Ron let out an angry scoff, “Hey! It is just a management problem! The players are quite good!” He defended while Harry violently shook his head. 

“I’m glad it was just a joke, I was ready to take you to Madam Pomfrey” Harry exclaimed, dabbing his mouth with a napkin and sinking back into his seat.

“And what would she have done?” Hermione asked dubiously, taking a bite of a pumpkin pasty.

“Unless she knew a cure for madness, she would not have been much help,” chuckled Draco as he sipped his Butterbeer, earning a noticeable smile from Ron and Hermione. 

Harry rolled his eyes and grabbed pastry off the tray, “Yeah, yeah,” he grumbled in annoyance, “She could’ve examined (Y/N)’s head or something, I don’t know”

“Who do you follow then, Potter?” Asked Draco curiously, wrapping his arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders as they continued their conversation. 

“Uh-” Harry paused, caught off-guard by his question“Well, the Bulgarian team has some great players, but I’d say it’s between them and Ireland” He admitted, recalling the 1994 Quidditch World Cup, “Can’t say I have a favorite, though” 

“The Gryffindor team is definitely your favorite,” teased (Y/N), “but that is a bit biased since you are their Seeker.”

Harry playfully rolled his eyes at her comment, “Can you honestly say your favorite team isn’t the Slytherin team?” He asked, pointing an accusatory finger towards (Y/N). Both she and Draco laughed, shrugging at Harry’s reasonably accurate comment, “You got me there” she admitted.

“We are quite good,” Draco admitted proudly with a nod of the head, “Never lost a match until you came along,” he added, shrugging towards Harry, “I promise we’ll beat you next time, (Y/N) and I have been training non-stop.” 

Harry snickered at Draco’s comment, “We’ll see about that, Malfoy,” he grinned, “I’m not going to let you off easy just because you’re with (Y/N).” 

Draco clicked his tongue in amusement, “I want a fair match, Potter.” He stated sternly, “I wouldn’t be satisfied if I won a match just because you threw it” 

“Then we’ll settle this on the field,” Harry stated confidently, raising his Butterbeer in satisfaction and finishing it off. 

After a surprisingly pleasant outing, the five of them walked back towards the castle, hoping Professor Umbridge would not catch them sneaking in the extra special butterbeer Madam Rosmerta brewed per Draco’s request (and compensation, of course). Disregarding educational decree number twenty-six, Draco snaked his arm around (Y/N)’s waist, pulling her closer to him as they strode towards the Great Hall. Once there, Hermione gave (Y/N) a hug as they happily exchanged goodbyes for the evening. Draco and (Y/N) gave the Golden Trio one final wave before turning towards the direction of the Slytherin common room, making their way there quicker and more excitedly than usual.  

Delighted to find his dormitory empty, Draco urged his girlfriend into the room and swiftly locked the door. Although he would not give her the satisfaction of knowing this information, he actually had a great evening at Hogsmeade with (Y/N) and her friends. However, this realization did not deter Draco’s excitement as he recalled his dear girlfriend’s promise before they left. 

Placing a hand against the small of her back, Draco pushed (Y/N)’s stomach against the dresser she used to tease him earlier. “I’d say I put forth my very best manners today, wouldn’t you agree?” He muttered against her ear, earning a small gasp from her as one of his hands gripped her hip and the other sneaked towards the buttons of her shirt. A sultry moan slid past (Y/N)’s lips as Draco’s hips ground against her clothed behind. 

Encouraged by her noises, Draco wrapped his fingers underneath her chin and lifted it so their eyes met in the mirror, “Should I take that as a yes?” He asked huskily, pressing a kiss against her cheek as he gave her throat a squeeze.

 The boldness she exhibited earlier quickly cast out the window as she gave a rather desperate nod, enthralled by Draco’s movements. (Y/N)’s mind had strayed farther than she had expected it to. It did not matter how confident she acted before their usual teasing started, as soon as his expertly calculated movements began, she became putty in his hands. The feeling of his fingers tracing lines up her thigh until they were hidden under her skirt made her heart beat wildly. Draco carefully inched his fingers up her inner thigh, ghosting them over her dampening core, but moved them away without pressing them into her. Shifting her hips, (Y/N) let out another small whine as she attempted to at least brush herself on Draco’s fingers, earning a small tut from him.  

“Cat got your tongue, Princess?” inquired Draco, his hands moving to flip her skirt up, exposing the flimsy black lace underwear she flashed earlier, “I’m not going to do anything until I hear that pretty little beg of yours…” he added, removing his hands from her body and loosening his emerald green tie, his school robes discarded at his side. Draco’s words sent shivers down (Y/N)’s spine, his low tone forcing her thighs together to provide some friction, something her observant boyfriend had taken note of. 

“Oi, where are your manners?” he retorted, gripping her hips hard enough to bruise. Fed up with her silence, Draco slapped his hand against her exposed ass cheek, the cold, silver rings decorating his fingers adding another layer of pleasure as she gasped harshly. “I’m not going to ask you again,” With that, Draco hooked his index fingers underneath the lacy fabric and yanked it down her ankles, her arousal on full display. 

“I-I’m- Please, Draco,” (Y/N) whined out, squeezing her thighs together in front of him, “I need you, please touch me..!” She begged, another gasp overtaking her as Draco swiped two fingers against her folds. 

“That’s a good girl,” He praised, dipping the press a kiss against the back of her neck, smirking at her moans as he finally inserted a finger inside of her, “Keep making those noises for me and I’ll reward you” demanded Draco, lowering himself onto his knees as he pumped his fingers. Flattening his tongue against her folds, (Y/N) let out a sensual moan, her hands reaching for the corners of the dresser in an attempt to anchor her shaking legs. Draco smirked as (Y/N) shuddered at the sudden loss of contact, rising to his feet while he fiddled with his belt, “Let’s get started then, shall we?” He stated, kicking his trousers away and gripping (Y/N)’s hips tightly, her skirt pushed up to her waist as he ground his erection against her needy core. 

As their moans and groans echoed throughout the empty room, Draco could not help but think about giving in to her requests more often. If all of them ended with her writhing and calling his name underneath him, he did not have any qualms with entertaining Potter and his friends for the afternoon.

[elriel-oblivion]

WHO'S READY FOR SOME HARDCORE NSFW 🔥😈

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

--

Just kidding! 😅

Lol, sorrynotsorry for that fake intro haha, but here's part four for real 😅 Thanks to everyone who read/liked/commented on/reblogged the last part, I really do appreciate all your support 😊🥰🥰

Shoutout to @julesherondalex again for finding one of my fave paragraphs ☺️☺️ I think I only have one fave line this time 😅 And thanks to all who comment their own faves!! I really like seeing what you like in each piece - and it def helps me gauge what kinda writing/literary techniques work and engage people the most 😊😊

I hope nobody's disappointed by this part lol, I really enjoyed writing it in tandem with the previous one 😅

Word count: 4.1K. Lemme know if you'd like to be tagged/removed

I've also finally posted all four parts to AO3 if anyone prefers to read there 😊

Ashes from the Deep

Part IV

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The water falling from the jug to Azriel’s head was the only sound in the bathroom. His hair absorbed the water, darkening to a midnight gleam. A thin breeze entered the room, and now without a blanket, Elain's exposed arms prickled with goosebumps.

Elain plunged a hand into his hair, breaking the mud between her fingertips. A quiet breath passed through his mouth and the corners of her lips rose.

She rubbed his scalp, coaxing as much dirt to the surface as she could before guiding another jug of water through his hair. Some of the mud drained away, some clods of sediment sticking to the basin. She poured over a final jug and stained water trickled into the drain. The warmth of the water tickled through her skin, replacing the cold from outside.

‘Is that nice?’ she asked, brushing the water through his hair with both hands.

His body seemed to relax, one foot sliding forward a little. ‘It is,’ he said thickly. He cleared his throat.

Her fingers continued to gently work at his head, and when sure his hair was completely wet, she ran the bar of soap under the tap. Soft lavender entered her nose and she inhaled deeply. That calm scent loosened her own muscles; this could be as much a session of serenity for her as she hoped it'd be for Azriel.

So long as she held taut the chain on her heart.

Soap foaming, she immersed her hands back into his thick hair, forming a lather. The lavender smell intensified, a wave of tranquility sweeping over her. She blinked slowly, as though her mind were wading through water.

Another sigh from him drew her attention back to his head. She needed to focus on this task; for Azriel, she could stay awake a little longer, especially since she’d already started.

Her fingertips massaged his skull, pressing a little deeper at the base where knots had a tendency to form. Elain moved her own neck, a sharp stab sparking at the top of her spine.

She hadn’t mentioned it to anybody yet – didn’t even know if she would – but her visions had been so feverish the past fortnight. Sleep felt like a luxury as she tossed and turned with psychedelic madness flashing behind her eyes. A turquoise expanse of sparkling ocean, birds shaped from sunset, glittering gowns in every shade, and a too-wide smile with pointed teeth were just a few of the recurring images attacking her every night.

Bathing before bed wasn't helpful. She'd hoped the calming scents of the herbs she'd found would be enough to pacify her mind and lull her to sleep. So far, there was no positive result beyond a loosening of her muscles. At least some of those herbs relieved the intensity of the dark circles round her eyes.

Mellow darkness, however, was a true reprieve, one which she found in her garden in those quiet evening hours, when the sky, having bled through its saturated sunset, was awash with deep muted blues.

As if she’d summoned it, a similar darkness manifested around Azriel’s body, swirling thickest about his head like a black cloud. His shadows rose like vapour, tendrils reaching out and twining about him.

Elain’s hands were hidden among those dark whorls, and they whispered on her skin in cool caresses. She leaned over his head and said, ‘Azriel?’

His eyes flicked open. ‘Huh?’

There was something boyish and confused in the way he blinked and she laughed lightly. ‘Your shadows are sort of hiding your head.’

He turned his head an inch or two. ‘Sorry,’ he said, and those shadows began sweeping over each other, wisps kissing her as Azriel pulled them in.

Elain’s hands were stationary until those shadows were completely reeled in, a faint frown on Azriel’s face. Sorrow lurked there, perhaps that he couldn’t be cocooned in that safe space.

Guilt coated the chain around her heart.

‘Don’t be,’ she murmured. Did he hear the shame in her voice? She hoped not; he should be resting, not worrying about Elain’s feelings. ‘You can close your eyes again.’

He did, but not before she caught a shadow lingering behind his eyes. Were they a glimpse into the shadows he leashed within himself, or were they a reflection of something darker, more sinister, perhaps?

That guilt began to cut into her heart now, icy claws digging. Cold squeezed her chest, a cold unrelated to the outside breeze breathing over her skin. How could she think Azriel was sinister? After the countless times he’d reached out to comfort her, be with her, listen to her – and the sincere light she saw in his eyes. Even the hope Rhysand had spoken of that day of the last battle in the war. The hope whose meaning he'd learnt from Azriel, learnt to experience from Azriel.

No, it was absurd. Yes, Azriel was a warrior and yes, he’d killed people. Possibly worse, she didn’t know. But those shadows she knew with certainty weren’t formed from the darkness of nightmares and malevolence and all things wicked.

They were a darkness of safety and security, of nights spent in a loved one’s arms. When a child sought their parent; when an adult sought their partner. They were the darkness found deep underground, where the earth was pure and things grew. Where life grew.

And just like his shadows, he too was not crafted from unholiness. There was unrelenting virtue glowing in him, burning whatever taint touched his darkness. She’d seen it in his eyes when he’d found her at the Hybern camp, when he alone had armed her with his own dagger at that later battle – and then run straight into the thick of it without Truth-Teller.

She didn’t know what she would’ve done if he hadn’t survived while she held his blade.

So when his shadows leaked out again, wrapping him in twining vines and wisps, she said nothing. Simply continued to work in that lovely lavender soap, giving as much care as she could. He deserved it.

She poured jug after jug of warm water over his head, wading her fingers through his locks to wash out the soap. Within a minute or two, the water was running clear. She yawned and dried her hands on a fresh towel.

‘Az, you can lift your head now.’

The guilt relented a little, icy claws releasing. A cold still filled the space left behind. But before the warmth of his presence, his existence, could balm her heart as it often did, she froze. His shadows parted to reveal a tear slipping from his eye. Just a single tear but so abrupt it was jarring on the shadowsinger’s face.

‘Azriel?’

He was unresponsive. His breathing was regular, body relaxed in a state of sleep. Except for that tear. What was he dreaming of?

She raised her hand to his face but let it hover in the air. Would this wake him? Would he even be fine knowing Elain had seen him cry?

She touched the tear anyway, placed a knuckle right beneath it. The tear slipped onto her hand and she wiped off the trace left on his face.

Azriel stirred, voice raw as he said, ‘Mother?’

Mother – was she what, who he dreamt of? There was such a childlike insecurity in his tone that Elain’s heart squeezed. She moved her hand back a little when her own voice sounded wispy. ‘No, it’s Elain.’

His eyes opened, gaze darting around the room. There was a small crease in his brow as he blinked away whatever haze remained from his dreams. The shadows dissipated.

Confusion limned his features in the few seconds it took him to fully awaken. Did he know he cried? That she’d wiped off his tear? No, that wouldn’t be okay. Elain had to distract him, if that were even possible for a spymaster.

Sometimes his title overwhelmed her. Sometimes she found security in it; did he see things he didn’t want to on his travels? Did he have access to a wealth of information he didn’t initially understand, just as Elain didn’t comprehend her visions without further probing?

‘I asked you to lift your head but you’d fallen asleep,’ she said. ‘I didn’t want to wake you, but we should dry your hair before you really go to sleep. Especially if you’ll be going outside again. Although I would ask you to consider taking a guest room.’

That frown deepened for a second before he smoothed out his face. ‘Right.’ He sat straight, and Elain set a hand under his head as he stiffly pulled it up. He rotated his neck a bit, water dripping off his sodden hair, sliding down his face.

She placed the towel over his head, patting it across his scalp. Some strands escaped to hang over his forehead, so she pulled them back, ruffling the towel through his hair. All the while, he watched her, but she busied herself with the water that glistened on his neck. Anything to avoid his eyes.

Then he dropped his head – from tiredness or something else, she didn’t know – so she took the opportunity to dry the back more. Drying his hair took more effort than washing, he just had so much hair. The small towel quickly became damp so she continued with the one round his neck, and a short while later, deemed his hair dry enough. Still wet but not sodden, so she combed her fingers through it, smoothing out the tips that stuck out. She left both towels on her bathtub, touching a knuckle to one of the trailing plants sitting on a stool nearby.

She heard the chair scrape across the floor, Azriel rising, so she laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘Wait. I want to clean your face, too.’

The idea of having to look at his face for however long it took to clean sent a thrill through her and she woke a little more. The chain on her heart slipped from her control a little and she leashed it back. Her chest tightened as she grabbed a cloth and ran it under the tap. She knelt next to him, honing in on that giant gash on his cheekbone. She touched the cloth to his face.

He winced and her hand stilled. ‘Sorry.’

A small smile graced his face, and he said, ‘Don’t be.’

She recognised the words from earlier and breathed a laugh. ‘That cut does look very bad, though. I think I’ll have to clean it with alcohol too.’

‘Let’s crack open that wine then.’

Something sultry laced his voice, the chain in her chest slipping again. The metal warmed and Elain fiddled with her grip. She let out a shaky laugh. ‘Not tonight, Azriel.’

Goodness. A late night wine session with Azriel. There was heat in her cheeks and she didn’t know how to tone it down. It was even worse with his face so near hers. He’d see it all. Her face warmed further, and it was only the dirt and blood on his that reminded her he was in no position to be drinking the night away. Not with fatigue so clear on his features and in his posture.

And not with Elain. That toed a line she didn't deserve to cross.

So she gave focus only to his skin, wiping the cloth across his face. Once most of the mud and blood was off, she rinsed the cloth, then wiped him down again. He turned his head and as his eyes fixed squarely on her, the chain heated further. She tried to grip it elsewhere, but every link was as hot. It wasn’t uncomfortable – quite pleasant, actually – but she was sure it would be soon enough if she didn’t move now. The cool air sweeping into the bathroom did nothing to help. If he would just stop looking into her –

Elain abruptly stood and on a whim went to close the window. Maybe he'd think she was cold, though she'd regret trapping the air when it was stifling here soon.

She moved to the cupboard by the door, her back to him. She took a deep breath, taking her time to pull out a bottle of alcohol, in pouring a few drops of it onto a clean cloth. The distance between them was refreshing. The chain didn’t cool, not with Azriel still so close in the same room, but at least it didn’t warm any more. Elain took a moment to readjust her grasp and pull it again.

She composed herself and knelt beside him. The alcohol’s scent permeated the air and her own nerves bristled. ‘This’ll hurt.’

His smile was slight. ‘It’s all right.’

She bit the inside of her cheek and touched the cloth to the wound. His jaw clamped like a vice and she lightened her touch, the cloth barely kissing his skin.

This wasn’t the right way. She needed to clean that wound, regardless of what pain it’d inflict. It'd be temporary, the sting. So she pressed the cloth harder, dabbing it across his cheekbone.

His features were stonelike at the contact. Did pain ever become easier to bear? Would the prick of a thorn be less painful in a decade than it was now?

If Azriel’s face was anything to go by, she guessed no. Perhaps some pain couldn’t be learnt; perhaps the body never fully digested pain.

Perhaps she'd never fully recover from the desolation in the Cauldron.

‘Are you all right, Azriel?’ Her voice was so quiet, like she didn’t want to flare the hurt any further.

‘I’m all right. Are you all right, Elain?’

‘I’m fine.’

He wasn’t all right and nor was she, but neither was willing to broach that right now. There was so much to him she didn’t yet know. What was it that shadowed his eyes so often? What darkness clouded his mind before he fell asleep? In due time, she’d learn, but that human impatience, the sense that there was never enough time, threatened to run her tongue.

Time stretched out before her. She’d learn. He was her friend, she just needed to give him time to teach her the workings of his soul. And in return, she would bare hers too.

Neither said a word as she pressed the alcohol into every wound, cleaning his cheekbone and temple, a scratch across his jaw. She stared at the graze there for a few seconds. She’d ask Madja for some calendula oil later; that would speed the healing process.

She sighed as she washed the cloth. Something had loosened the chain, but it wasn’t a sudden unravelling. It’d just been gradual and she hadn’t noticed, one link falling back at a time. Her heart expanded. There was torment in Azriel’s posture, on his face, and it hurt. It hurt that Elain couldn’t do anything for him besides give basic medicines for his body.

But he was more than just a physical form. He had a heart and a soul, both so tight with whatever misery lurked in his past, and she couldn’t do anything about that. For all the light she saw in the world, all the places of brightness, there was ten times as much darkness, ten times as many nooks and crannies where gloom and wretchedness dwelt. What good was the light if it didn’t burn away the shade over everyone’s souls?

She spent more time washing the cloth than necessary.

The chair creaked. ‘You can talk to me, Elain, whenever you need.’

The chain slipped again, Elain’s fingers grappling for those final links. It hurt so much that he was willing to give so much. Her smile was too bright as she turned and said, ‘I know.’

He stood. His gaze was so direct on her that she only held one chainlink now. Just one link remained in her hand, one link between her and the release of a beast she hadn't yet had the courage to face.

The link heated. Her muscles loosened and her hands fumbled with the tap, the cloth falling from limp fingers.

He would realise. He would know what she was thinking and feeling if she didn’t get a grip on herself, on that final chainlink. So she turned her body to face his and cleared her throat. ‘We should go downstairs to the fireplace. It’ll be warmer there.’ For his damp hair, of course.

No matter that whatever cool air remained in the room did nothing to tame her heat.

His hand was cold on her wrist, a shiver tracking her bones, and colder still were the shadows that swept them up and into the living room. Good, there was much more space here. Her feet hit the floor and she bent to place three logs in the hearth.

Moonlight glinted on the steel she struck against the flint but the metal didn’t spark the way she’d seen it do when everybody else lit a fire. She tried again, Azriel silent beside her. This was pitiful. She swiped the steel a couple more times, and a spark finally appeared.

It was too silent here. ‘Those shadows are quite convenient at times, aren’t they?’ she said.

He breathed a laugh. ‘They can be.’

She let the spark catch on the cloth resting on the hearth and threw it onto the logs, a blaze finally blooming. She doubted anybody else took that long to start a fire. Heat bathed her legs.

Elain didn’t know what to make of the lack of judgement she found on his face when she stood. Though, it was common with him, how honestly he looked at her. She shouldn’t be surprised. Save Nuala and Cerridwen, he was perhaps the only one who didn’t view her as a naive fool, a child. None of the others said it, but she saw it in their eyes, that patronising glimmer.

He was leaning against the mantelpiece with a forearm, one leg crossed over the other, the portrait of casual elegance. It wasn't often she got to see him looking so relaxed. Then again, he was tired.

Her eyes met his. ‘Just a few minutes now and we’ll be warm.’

His eyes were soft; he didn’t say anything. Just kept looking at her. Into her.

The air warmed. That was a quick few minutes.

Just the flames. Of course it was the flames. Anything else would be ridiculous.

The wound on his cheekbone was an angry red in the dim light. ‘I think you’ll need a bandage for that wound.’ Some herbs would be prudent too.

‘I’ll be fine without it,’ he said.

She pleaded for interference from something, anything. ‘It’s quite deep.’

‘Not a match for my Illyrian healing.’ The smirk that followed sent a hot spark down her skin. The chain now burned and she lost her grip on it completely, that leash uncoiling and slipping down, down, down into the abyss of her core. Her heart swelled like a dragon inhaling a mighty breath.

She needed a distraction from his achingly stunning face. The wings behind him were not a reprieve at all. Especially not after what she'd overheard about them. Certain people tended to forget she was in the room and had heightened hearing when they talked about the sensitivities of the Illyrian wings.

Her face heated and her heart throbbed against her chest. How improper these thoughts were. The air was stifling now. Perhaps they should've stayed in the bathroom. Even the weak chill of night air would be better than this. She wished she could have shadows to cool her down like Azriel did. Or to hide in. She'd seen him do that plenty of times.

His wings rustled and he straightened, coming off the mantelpiece. His eyes were glazed, somehow even more stunning than they were outside earlier. The fire highlighted the grey brown storm swirling in his gaze while streaks of emerald glistened like the veins on leaves in the height of summer.

It felt like the height of summer too in this heat.

He frowned. She cleared her throat of the pocket of air lodged there.

'Oh.' A bead of sweat glinted on his temple, right above the gash there. The sting that would ensue was an unnecessary pain, so she reached up to wipe it away.

As her finger touched his skin, above the crackle of the flames, a loud thudding beat entered her ears. Azriel caught her wrist and a small gasp left her lips.

His eyes smouldered, that thunderstorm churning in the dim light. His heartbeat. It was his heartbeat she heard. It ran and ran, crescendoeing like a drum before the climax of a song.

Was the shadowsinger feeling the same as she? Did his heart yearn to touch hers too?

It was unbearable, the alternative. Unbearable but probable.

Her voice was thick, with longing, with desire, with anguish all entangled when she spoke, 'I can hear your heartbeat.'

He said nothing. If he truly didn't reciprocate -

She almost couldn't continue but pushed out, 'And it's a beautiful sound.'

That song in his heartbeat finally climaxed, a thunder of sound pounding the air.

'You're beautiful, too,' he breathed.

Her own pulse throbbed, heartbeat echoing in her throat. Tears blurred her vision of him. She blinked them away; she wanted to truly see every inch of his wonderful face.

His breathing lightened.

As did hers.

He was a mirror, Azriel. He saw her; he saw what she hid from everyone else, clear as day. It was his eyes that told. His words, too, in that smooth voice, free of condescension.

And now no mouth had ever looked so inviting.

And maybe this was okay. This fondness, this attachment she'd developed for him. It wasn't a sudden spark - childish and unquestioned. This had been building for a while now. Months. Maybe even since the first year she'd met him. And maybe it was improper and she was a lady, but perhaps it went beyond expectation. If her sisters could give themselves wholly to their love, then so could she.

Love. It was exhilarating, liberating to open up that well inside her. To no longer have that chain leashing her heart.

And because she knew he'd not make another move, she whispered, 'Are you going to kiss me?'

The fire hissed as a log tumbled further into the hearth. Shadows smoked behind his eyes. 'Only if you want me to.'

Without a doubt, she wanted this. There was a certainty, a clarity in her bones that sang high and free. It whistled through her marrow and glided into her blood, awakening her soul. She was not a child. She could want this. She could have this.

'Yes.'

A frown marred his face and her heart dropped. His eyes were now a hurricane, darkened like night descended over them. Torment was etched in the line of his brows, in the flicker of his jaw as it ground together.

He was afraid. Of hurting her. Ruining her. She'd seen the way he always glimpsed his hands, glancing away with revulsion in his eyes. He thought he was a disgrace, a savage.

But how could that be? How could this male, this male of honour, loyalty and charm think so little of himself? He was better than any male she could've had the pleasure of knowing.

'I know what you're thinking,' she said, 'and I want you to know I trust you, Azriel. You will do me no harm. You couldn't.'

His eyes shuttered as he lowered them, brows still furrowed. He still held her wrist, so, pulling his arm with her, she reached out and stroked his brow with her thumb. She rubbed back and forth in gentle motions until that crease was gone, and he exhaled slowly.

'I trust you, Azriel. So kiss me.'

The moody veil of night lifted from his eyes, the tempest calming to a glistening haze. His heart still pounded, so wondrously loud as he leaned down, his free hand settling against her cheek. He was unhurried, tentative.

It was agonising. Worse still, he paused with an inch of space between their lips. His night-chilled air and cedar scent blended with the smoke and wood of the fire, seductive as it crept into her skin and twined around her bones like ribbons of mist round pillars.

With shadows flickering over his face, and the light so sultry beside them, his eyes were alluring. She'd never let herself notice that before. 'Kiss me,' she said faintly.

Elain didn't breathe as his lips touched hers.

__

Feedback's welcomed, thanks for reading 😊

@illyrian-lover-flower @julesherondalex @nooriee @mis-lil-red @verifiefangirl @tswaney17 @a-happybird @thewayshedreamed @sleeping-and-books @thefangirlofhp @januarystears @courtofjurdan @ladylochan

[savagesbonergarage]

Heat

Savage Opress x reader

Prompt from @secretnerd00 "Could you maybe write some Savage Smut, with his s/o, who is a virgin but has a really dirty mind an goes just wild once there finally alone and ready for some sexy time?"

(a/n: Okay, so I went a bit crazy with this 😅 I haven't written smut in six years so honestly I have no idea if it's any good. There's some angsty bits beforehand, also because I'm not sure if the smut is good, this might end up being a part 1 and I'll write a part 2 if it's well-received. If you get to the end and you're like "that's it?!" yell at me and I'll write the second part lol.)

Warnings! Past sexual abuse (Savage), blood, fits of anger, heat cycles, striptease (kinda?), Masturbation, oral fixation

It had been days since you'd seen him. Even in situations where his presence was usually required, like at his brother's side in the throne room of the Sundari palace, Savage had been absent. Even stranger still was that no one seemed to have a reasonable explanation for why this was, and when you confronted Lord Maul about the issue he uncharacteristically fumbled a rushed response.

"I've sent him off to...hone his skills."

His gaze didn't have the signature menacing expression that he usually did when you dared speak to him without his brother present, yet something else about his tone convinced you not to implore further. If you didn't know any better, you could have sworn there was a semblance of concern in his voice. Even though you were unsatisfied with his answer, you walked away without any reassurance about the well-being of your beloved zabrak.

The entire situation didn't sit right with you whatsoever. Had Savage truly been sent away to train, he would have informed you of it beforehand. He wouldn't have wanted you to worry about him the way you currently were. Moreover, he would have instigated the tradition you both developed of finding a secluded spot to share a kiss goodbye before either of you left.

Something weighed heavily in your chest as you considered the implications of this unusual occurrence. You decided there was no use in spending the night pondering the possibilities; you were going to find out for certain on your own. It wasn't permitted for someone of your status to access the floor that contained Savage's quarters despite the fact that the two of you were on friendly terms, however that wasn't going to change your mind about getting there.

*

An hour later you stood inside the elevator that would finally take you to your destination, the limp body of the death watch guard stationed in the area crumpled at your feet. Sheer resolve and determination had given you the power to knock him out. You hoped in this case that following your instinct would be worth it, as attacking a fellow palace dweller was sure to have it's consequences if you were discovered.

The shaft finally opened and you snuck through a large hall until you came upon the door that unmistakably belonged to Savage. Creeping closer to better listen wasn't necessary since as soon as it entered your line of sight you heard deep, agonizing groans of pain. Your intuition had been right.

"Savage!"

Stealth was no longer a priority as you flung your body against the door and beat against it with your palm.

"Savage, it's me. Are you okay?"

You heard him approach the door, but rather than open it he lingered behind it. His voice was plagued with concern and he spoke between heavy breaths.

"You shouldn't be here. Leave, now."

His words did little to distract you from your mission.

"Savage, let me in. I won't leave until I see that you're okay. At least let me look at you. Please."

There was a moment of hesitation before you heard the latch click. You stood back as the door slowly opened just enough for you to see the full figure of the man you loved towering above you, clad in only a dark pair of shorts. Your face flushed as your eyes danced along all the defined ripples and crevices that accented the patterns of his tattoos that you hadn't gotten the chance to see until now. His chest was rising and falling with each quick breath he took, and the halo of the moonlight spilling in from a window far behind him caught the beads of sweat that peppered his skin. Maker, he was beautiful.

His resoundingly deep voice brought your attention back to his face as he spoke with firm authority.

"I'm fine. If you're satisfied, go."

You weren't. You knew that he was lying, that he was hiding something from you. From the moment you saw him you rattled your brain trying to decipher the real reason he isolated himself. Something was afflicting him, that much was certain, but you couldn't tell what. He didn't seem sick, he seemed desperate. Your chest thumped as you began to put two and two together.

"Why didn't you come to me?" The words left your lips with a hint of remorse and you found it difficult to conceal the pain in your eyes as you studied him, your revelation serving to stir up the embers that settled within you.

Savage's breath hitched.

"What-"

Before he could properly react you darted through the space between his calves and rolled onto the middle of the floor in his room. As you got up, you took notice of the carnage. Broken furniture, scratched surfaces and obliterated pillows with feathers still wafting around littered the entire space. Your heart sank.

"I knew it. You're-"

Your back hit the ground again as your wrists were pinned above you by his strong arms, eliciting a small cry of pain from your lips as one of his long horns grazed your cheek in the motion. The sound shook him, causing him to pause and look down at the little bit of blood that trickled down your face. He was clearly horrified by his own actions. He swiftly got up and roared in anger as he raked his claws across a shelf, sending everything crashing down with it.

You sat up, watching him with sadness as he knelt and held his face in his shaking hands.

"Savage..."

"I hurt you."

"Savage-"

"Stay back!"

He flung the side of his fist into the wall, a significant crack running up into the stone slab. His horns lowered and he hid his eyes from you in shame, speaking between shaky breaths as he shook his head.

"I couldn't come to you. I would have destroyed you. You're so frail, and I don't...I don't trust myself."

The zabrak had never uttered a sob in his life, but you could tell he was close. You crawled a little closer but still maintained your distance, not out of fear, but out of respect for Savage's concerns. It felt like a weight pressed down harder and harder onto your heart the longer you saw him in this state.

"Why do you insist on suffering? On isolating yourself like this?" Tears threatened to well up in your eyes. "This isn't healthy. What is your plan, to just endure this until it passes?"

"Do you not recall what just barely happened?"

He finally met your gaze with an anger in his eyes that was reserved only for himself.

"I'm a monster, but at least I'm aware of it. I can prevent hurting the one I love by staying away. If I foolishly gave in to this...sickness, I would have no concern for you. I would be no better than them."

You knew who he meant: The Nightsisters.

Everything started to make sense. Savage was afraid of hurting you intimately because he himself had been hurt. The thought had never really crossed your mind, but it was entirely plausible that the witch who changed his fate had also used him as so many others used the nightbrothers they claimed for themselves. His life belonged to her and he had to oblige her whims, despite never truly consenting to it.

The tears finally came. Your heart was breaking for him now more than ever before.

"Savage."

You couldn't help it. Ignoring his groans of protest, you approached him on your hands and knees and threw yourself onto his chest, enveloping him in a tight hug. He recoiled at your touch, but said nothing.

"You aren't sick. You're in heat."

Your hands travelled up over his shoulders and around the nape of his neck until they rested on either side of his face. He was trembling as you pulled back to look at him. You wanted to ease his suffering in any way that you could.

"I trust you. Do you trust me?"

He shook his head.

"Don't."

"You won't hurt me."

"I already have."

"I don't care."

"Then you're a fool."

"I agree."

He removed your hands from his face and you reciprocated by planting your lips firmly against his. An aroused groan escaped him and filled your mouth, causing the fire in your loins to flare up that much more. You deepened the kiss and guided his right hand to your breast. He winced as though he were in pain and broke your connection, and you knew he was doing all he could to hold himself back.

"I'm not some helpless animal, Savage. You think you're a predator and I'm the prey, don't you? You think you'll devour me and that will be the end of it."

His reflective golden eyes were screaming with agony.

"I know it. I won't be able to promise your safety."

"Then don't."

He looked at you as though you were signing your own death warrant. You sighed, frustration starting to get the better of you.

"Do you think I would only help you out of obligation?" The notion made you shake your head. "Have you ever considered, Savage, that maybe..."

You wrapped your arms around his neck and your thighs around his waist, bearing down so that the outline of your heated sex pressed against his growing erection. The sensation drew a mewl from your lips as your own breath hitched before you continued.

"...maybe I'm the kind of prey that yearns to be devoured."

Your name stumbled breathlessly from his panting mouth. You returned his hand to your neglected breast and guided his fingertips to the swollen nub that bade your clit to throb when it was touched. You moaned for him and you felt his impressive cock twitch beneath you, however he still held back. Your eyes were half-lidded and your face flushed with desire.

"I love you, Savage."

You planted another long kiss on the corner of his mouth. As your lips lingered there, a warm wetness trailed against your cheek. The tear was his. You held his face in your hands again and looked deep into those wanting eyes, reassuring him with a smile.

"I may be inexperienced, but I'm not as frail as you think."

Savage was about to break. He offered one final retort.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

It was meant to be a warning, but you took it as a dare. A quiet "oh?" escaped your mouth as you sensually trailed kisses all down his burning neck and chest which caused him to swear. If he was so adamant about how he was going to behave, you were going to make him prove it.

"I think you're making assumptions about your 'prey'."

Suddenly, you retracted your hold on him and backed away completely. For a moment you saw the yearning he tried so desperately to suppress flicker up to the surface. He didn't move. He didn't have to. You wanted to watch his every reaction, every movement from a distance. You stood and took a few steps back.

"Do I have your attention?"

He groaned.

"Always."

"Good. Keep it on me."

He swallowed as his eyes followed you to the foot of his bed. There was a subtle strut in your step and a knowing smile on your face. Truth be told you were nervous as hell, but you didn't care. Your love for Savage was all the resolve you needed. You turned to face him and extended your arms in front of you.

"Don't take your eyes off my hands."

His expression was confused to say the least, but he responded with a slight nod. You tested his listening skills by moving one hand this way and that, and sure enough his eyes followed. You almost laughed, but you weren't there to make him feel like an idiot. Slowly, ever so slowly, you brought your fingers to collar of your shirt and began unfastening the ties. Savage groaned in protest once again.

"Don't-"

"Hush. Remember what I told you."

The zabrak pursed his lips. He might not have been aware of how this strange behavior of yours was keeping him grounded, but oddly enough, it was. For now, curiosity overpowered his carnal instinct. He watched as you continued to make work of your pesky layers, slowly peeling them off one by one. You pulled your bottoms down over your knees and let them fall to the floor, leaving you in only your underclothes.

You could sense Savage's arousal from across the room. Even so, he remained right where he was, gaze still tracking your hands without fail. If there was one thing he was determined about, it was following an order that was given to him. You leaned back against his bedframe as you brought one hand up to cup your breast and guided the other down under the waistband of your panties. You looked to your lover, who was gritting his teeth at the show you were putting on for him. The outline of his dick was fully pronounced through the thin material of his shorts, the sight of which drew a loud moan from your lips as your fingers circled your clit and dived down between your folds and back. You darted your tongue out of your open mouth as you curled two fingers inside and gradually pumped, the back of your hand stretching the fabric of your panties with the motion giving the horny zabrak a peek of the real action.

He cursed. You watched him tremble with need as he grabbed the base of his cock over the fabric of his bottoms and lightly stroked, nearly sending you over the edge. You pulled your hand away before you got too close, Savage's eyes following intently as you brought it up to your face and you carelessly brushed your fingers against your cheek, leaving a streak of moisture that glistened in the moonlight.

The beastial sounds you elicited from the melting man on the ground made you want to beg for him right then and there, but you had an idea you wanted to follow through with. You dragged the tips of your slick fingers to your lips and kissed them, once, twice, a number of times. The kisses became more sloppy until your tongue had flicked across every inch down to the base of your hand. You didn't normally taste yourself, but the reaction you were getting from Savage made you want to behave this way even more. You brought your other hand up and wrapped it around your knuckles, holding your slick fingers in a way that made it allude to something more phallic.

He knew what you were doing, but the anticipation of it almost made it worse for him when you started sucking. If you were able to hear him from outside the door earlier, surely the entire palace could hear him now. You watched as a dark spot appeared on his clothing where the tip of his dick rested against his thigh. You might have been able to tease him further had your own arousal not been demanding you get to the point. You pulled your fingers from your mouth with a loud pop, a string of saliva trailing between them and your bottom lip.

"What are you thinking, Savage?"

You knew damn well what he was thinking, but you wanted to hear him say it. He struggled to get the words out past his groans of desire.

"I'm...envious."

"Of what?" You brought your knuckles up to your lips as he continued to lightly stroke his length.

"Those fingers."

You started mirroring the stroking motions the zabrak was making on them, a shit-eating grin on your face.

"Why?"

He growled, knowing that you were seeking a confession. It was clear as day that you both wanted each other, and there was only one thing keeping you from rutting on every surface in the vicinity.

"I want you to suck my cock. Suck me off just like that and I'll have nothing to worry about."

Those dirty words sounded like magic coming off his tongue, and Maker, were you more than happy to oblige.

Part II!

[drawlfoy]

Defense Against Your Inability to Respect Curfew

pairing: draco x goldentriofriend!reader

warnings: just draco being possessive i guess. also mild mild mild torture i guess, umbridge’s detention punishment is mentioned

request: yes! thanks anon!

summary: reader is friends with golden trio and draco decides to mess with her, then realizes he’s gone too far and realizes that he’s just jealous

a/n: i always have difficulties writing stories like these ones because as the author, you walk such a fine line between making possessiveness cute and making it controlling and abusive, so i apologize if this fic isn’t as brash as other jealousy centered ones. i’m gonna try and keep it a little more vanilla than the way the usual fics treat this kinda thing. possessive bfs in real life suck ass if they get too controlling lol also i put the reader in Slytherin, i apologize if the person who requested this wanted it some other way!

word count: 1,673

Y/N’s least favorite class was Defense Against the Dark Arts, by far. In all of her other classes, she was at least with her Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff friends. However, DADA was her only class shared with the Gryffindors, something she had mixed feelings about.

She never really felt like she fit in with her fellow Slytherins--they were all so judgmental, and since she was muggleborn, stuff was even worse for her. For the most part, the goons of Slytherin left her to her own devices, something she was generally thankful about, but she was lonely.

And then there was the fierce rivalry between the Gryffindors and the Slytherins, something that made DADA even worse. She had yet to make any friends in that class as everyone from the other house just assumed that she was prejudiced. No one ever asked what her blood status really was--after seeing her green tie, they decided they could deduce the answer for themselves.

In a stroke of luck one day, Neville Longbottom was reprimanded for goofing off too much with his table, and Umbridge “asked” him to switch places with Y/N, allowing her to free herself of Draco Malfoy’s constant criticism. She gratefully accepted the switch, moving her items and settling in next to Harry Potter and the rest of his friends. 

That was all it took. Within one afternoon, Y/N made quick friends with the Golden Trio and the rest was history. Suddenly she was sitting at the Gryffindor table for meals, laughing with them in the halls during break, and even sneaking into their common room to spend the night with Hermione and Ginny on weekends.

Life was good, but as time went on and she grew closer to the group, she began to notice a certain blond paying more attention to her. 

Draco Malfoy had hardly given her the time of day when she was next to him in DADA, something she didn’t mind all that much. Before she had started eating with the Gryffindors, Y/N often found herself sitting to Draco’s right, but he rarely acknowledged her apart from the occasional shy smile and nod. 

But one late Friday night, all that changed. She was quietly sneaking out of the Gryffindor common room after playing a very competitive game of Monopoly with Ron and the twins, conscious of the fact that she was way past curfew. She had heard of the new inquisitorial squad created to assist Umbridge, but she had never been caught by them on all her midnight escapades and assumed her lucky would hold up,

Quick spoiler: it didn’t. 

She was lucky enough to make it back to her own common room, but she wasn’t alone. A figure sat in an armchair near a dying fire, twirling a wand around his fingers.

“Y/L/N.” 

Y/N jumped at the sound of Malfoy’s drawled words.

“How nice of you to finally return to your own house,” he began, eyeing his wand. He had stopped spinning it now.

“I’m sorry,” she responded. “I fell asleep in the library studying for-”

“You seriously expect me to believe that?” Malfoy cut in. “You think I haven’t noticed where you’ve been?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she pushed back. The Slytherin part of her knew that playing dumb was the only feasible option. 

“Oh, I think you do.” He turned to face her, his eyes ablaze with the reflection of the fire. “You know exactly what I’m referring to. There’s nothing stopping me from hauling you down to Umbridge’s office right now,”

Y/N froze. Of course. She’d completely forgotten that he was part of Umbitch’s prized squad.

“There’s no proof,” Y/N shot back. “And I’m going to bed. I bet she’d like to know how you found me outside, after curfew, when it wasn’t even your shift.”

She firmly set her jaw before turning on her heel and retreating to her room. 

Next time, I’ll just sleep over she promised herself.

♥♥♥♥

Unfortunately, “next time” came much sooner than expected. Hermione refused to let her sleep over the next Saturday under the guise that she had to get up early the next morning and didn’t want to wake Y/N, someone who always slept incredibly late. Y/N argued and pleaded with Hermione, but she wouldn’t budge.

“I’m so sorry,” she had told her, ushering her out of the common room. “I swear I wouldn’t do this unless I really had to. But you’re lucky, and you haven’t been caught yet, and you’re slick, so you won’t get caught.”

They’d bade each other goodnight, and Y/N was off into the night.

She’d made no more than 2 meters before she heard someone clear their throat. Spinning around, she was horrified to see the sight of Malfoy leaning up against the wall.

“Isn’t this interesting?” He noted. “It’s funny, I remember the library being somewhere other than the Gryffindor common room.”

It’s a shame he’s such a git. He’d be pretty hot if he wasn’t so annoying Y/N thought to herself. 

“Ah, you caught me,” she said, throwing her hands up. “What are you doing out here, though?”

Malfoy puffed his chest up and pointed at the badge on his robes. 

“I requested for my shifts to be extended a little later. I’m not sure if you noticed,” he shifted his weight from one leg to the other in a rather dramatic gesture, “but I’m on the job. Come on now, Umbridge is in her office and I’m sure she’d love to talk.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped. Malfoy was really going to do this to his own housemate?

“You can’t be serious.”

“You’re not invincible, no matter what house you’re in. However, I might’ve given you more leniency if you actually acted like a Slytherin instead of a wannabe Gryffindor.” His remarks stung more than the cold air did.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Come along.”

Malfoy seized Y/N’s arm, dragging her down to the horrid pink office that she’d heard so many horror stories of. Harry had told her how her punishments were rather unorthodox but didn’t go into any more detail. Regardless, she was going to learn what they really were.

“You have no semblance of house pride,” Malfoy hissed at her halfway through the walk. “Hanging out with the Weasel? And Granger? And god forbid, Potter? Are you insane?”

“Maybe I like being around people who don’t care about my blood status!” Y/N countered. “I’ve grown to love them more in two weeks than I’ve loved Slytherin in 5 years!”

“Why don’t you tell that to Umbridge?” They’d reached the office door.

“Ladies first.”

Y/N rolled her eyes to hide her fear. Umbridge was apparently horrible any time of day, but she couldn’t imagine how much worse she’d be if she had to wake the demon lady up in the middle of the night. 

Thankfully, the pink monstrosity was awake and doing paperwork at her ugly desk. 

“Caught her lurking around the Gryffindor dorms,” Malfoy reported, pushing Y/N into a chair at a desk. 

“Thank you, Mr. Malfoy,” Umbridge responded. “You can stay and watch, if you’d like.”

“Really?” Malfoy sounded...pleasantly surprised. 

The little sociopath.

“But Professor, you don’t let anyone stay--”

“Well, I think you’re an exceptional example of what the squad ought to be like,” Umbridge told him. “You get to enjoy the fruits of your labor.”

What the...fuck? This was a whole different world of fucked up. What the fuck??? 

“Here you are, Ms....Y/L/N, is it?” Umbridge tossed a quill and piece of parchment paper to her and grossly mispronounced her last name. Y/N didn’t bother to correct her. “Write ‘I shall respect curfew” 50 times. I’ll be watching.”

“That’s it?” Y/N was shocked at the vanilla punishment. This was, like, muggle punishment. “Can I have some ink as well?”

Umbridge glared at her. 

“You won’t be needing it. Just write.”

Y/N shrugged and began to write on the parchment. Within onds, a searing pain ripped through her hand and she gasped.

Umbridge was right about not needing ink--she had been so stupid. This was a black quill! How could Y/N have been so stupid?

A faint scratch of “I shall respect curfew” appeared on her hand, just barely breaking the skin. A matching sentence appeared on her parchment, glowing a vibrant blood red. 

Oh, no. 50 times?

She began writing as quick as she possibly could, trying to ignore the burning pain on her right hand. She was always sensitive to blood--something that she couldn’t change, no matter how hard she tried. If she saw too much of it, especially if it was hers, she’d pass out. 

10 down, 40 to go.

Her hand was shaking and tears were running down her face as she fought to keep consciousness. She hadn’t seen this much of her own blood in so long, not since she accidentally nicked her finger on a knife in potions last spring. Every stroke of the quill ripped deeper into her hand, and while the words healed up seconds after writing them, the next time hurt even more. 

Y/N kept at it for almost an hour, eventually hitting her last phrase and flinging the objects at Umbridge. 

“Goodnight,” Y/N mumbled before finally collapsing on the ground next to the desk. The last thing she saw was Draco’s horrified face before everything went black. 

♥♥♥♥

When she came to, she was in a bed that was most certainly not hers. The sheets were a luxurious black silk--did they even have those at Hogwarts?--and it smelled much different than her room, much more like someone else’s choice of shampoo and mahogany. A bandage was wrapped tightly around her right hand, but she could see no visible bleeding through the fabric.

Where was she?

Y/N shot up, throwing the heavy blankets off of her and frantically scanning the room for answers.

“Oh good, you’re awake.” 

A very tired Draco Malfoy sat in the corner, holding a candle in one hand and a cup of tea in the other. 

final a/n: this literally went in every direction except for the one that the request specifically asked for and now i have to write a part 2 so that’ll be up soon

[smoresmoresmore]

Will edit later

I just have to say

I was possibly exposed to Rabies and came to Tumblr for help and advice and was THOROUGHLY AND DISTURBINGLY DISAPPOINTED WITH THE RABIES TAG.

Omg

I was convinced I was going to die and searching anything Rabies related was UNHELPFUL AF. Not judging but y'all did not help lol.

Very long explanation of why I thought I was going to die:

Waking up to a bat (2 nights in a row) is not automatic cause to assume you will die but it is, I found out after talking to the Dept. Of Agriculture and their Epidemiologist, an immediate cause to go straight to the ER and get shot up with the vaccine and immunoglobulin so you DON'T POTENTIALLY DIE. It is not something the doctors can argue against and it is not something you should postpone. Especially since I was "under the influence" (Nyquil) at the time and even less likely to notice if I had gotten scratched or bitten. My being unaware was the key point in the urgency of going to the ER.

The ER doc was highly annoyed I knew just what to say ("I woke up with a bat in my face") and he grumpily admitted he was bound to follow CDC protocol. His annoyance was so obvious he repeatedly told me how unlikely it was I was bit and explained how "intense" the shots would be. I assume he felt the medicine could be put to better use on someone who was 100% sure and/or was injured. When I asked him what would happen to me if I WAS bitten and didn't get the shot like he wanted, he sighed and admitted "Well, you die."

"Well, shoot me up, doc!"

That night I got 7 shots. One in my arm, which hurt so bad--I guess because my nurse was new and may habe gone too deep because the subsequent shots I have gotten in the same arm haven't been anywhere near as painful-- and 6 in my buttcheeks. 3 in each.

Waking up from my Nyquil coma to a bat in my face was not fun. I had never related to those movie scenes of people screaming and running around afraid if bats. But jessuz. They are fast. And this one was swooping around my living room and deliberately getting super close to me. I had to hide under my blanket and in my fevered state this made me sweat. Trying to herd it to my now opened windows did not help. I tried to call police, fireman andnanimal control; the 1st two were useless and the 3rd was not open at 1am.

Eventually I reached out to my townie facebook group and got advice. White towels attract them. Or make it dark and quiet and hide--I did this as I was not going to run around with a towel in my undies like that video--which worked. 2 very concerned people urged me to go to a doctor.

"You say you have flu-like symptoms and a constant fever and you sleep in that room a lot. You really need to go to the ER. Rabies is so dangerous."

And after 2 nights of dealing with bats and my fever spiking right around the time they show up, I existed in a dark hole of stress. So much so that the second morning I woke up to my hand twitching erratically and my thumb muscle spasming and I started bawling. I had already gotten the shots the day before so I knew if I encountered anything rabid I should be okish (I still had 3 more to go before I was fully protected) but now, with my glitchy hand, I was panicking about "WHAT IF I ALREADY HAD IT?!"

Urgent Care had ruled out Strep twice for my odd sickness and had assured me I have a random virus and to just stay in bed for a few days. Which I had been doing faithfully, before getting bored and moving to my livingroom nest. I like to sleep in there a lot and often do when the weather is nice. I just made sure to drink water and tea and get sunlight and all the things. Including Nyquil. But my fevers were getting worse. I was feeling like crap. And now what we all assumed to be A Normal Virus was morphing into my worst nightmare.

Probably egged on by 101 temperatures, I called around until someone was willing to explaon to me whether I was dying or not. Getting told "You'll be fine. It is SO RARE," did not calm me down. I needed someone to explain how the long incubation period (months to a year) and symptoms (flu like, emotional, twitchy) did not match me.

I slept in that room on accident and on purpose since moving in almost 9 months ago. I'm a heavy sleeper and don't wake up easily. Iffff I had been bitten during one of my all-nighters doing math homework or essay writing, it makes sense I would suddenly get a random "virus" that isn't going away. I had it all worked out in my head. I was getting headaches in the sun and stores. I forced myself outside and out and about when I felt ok because fuck it if I was going to let this be a symptom I had. I was getting anxious in the shower but, knowing fear of water was a symptom, I forced myself to stay in it. (Turns out my paranoia was right. The water was starting to be hard and my skin was breaking out. It is very annoying. The timing was just horrendous)

All the doctors and nurses kindly told me I was safe since I had started the shots but no one had an answer for me when I asked if they helped if I hadddd it already. They weren't sure. The amount of information they have or are willing to share is astonishingly low.

After 2 hours of phone tag I was finallly able to get an appointment with an Infectious Disease Doctor. She told me that if I did have it there was no real evidence about the vaccine helping, especially since I had only had the first dose at that point. She told me it would be fast though and they couldn't tell until "you're foaming at the mouth." She asked to look in my mouth and when I told her about my drooliness she said to let her know if it got worse. She asked about my hand. I told her. She asked about numbness and I freaked cuz my arm did go numb at one point.

I askwd her about tests. I had read that there were a few--spinal fluid, spit, blood--that were not really reliable. She said since I had the vaccine and immunoglobulin in my system already they would show up and it would be pointless.

My only option was to wait. And chill. And try not to dwell on the fact that there is no answer or cure or way to find out if I should plan my trip to Oregon and die or if I should allow my boyfriend to visit me.

He was firmly in the You Don't Have Rabies camp and came over anyway to feed me soup and hang out. But I refused to kiss him. It made him very sad and probably extremely exasperated.

My boss was so done with me when he asked if I could come in the next day. "Sasha. You cannot have Rabies. Just come to work. You'll be fine." And I realized how crazy I sounded but I still warned all my coworkers.

Anyway, my lowgrade fever continued, my twitchiness stopped, my drooling stopped, my water was hard so I avoided the shower but cleaned my good bits, and once I doubled up my water intake my headaches disappeared. I went into a mini death spiral for a day but decided to force myself into believing I was fine.

When I started getting confused and fainty, I bought Iron supplements. When I started getting angry and anxious, I called my friends and got distracted. When it was time to get another shot, I made sure to update everyone of the weirdness Just In Case.

One nurse took the time to sit me down and listwn. That's really all I needed since no one had answers. I just needed my mind soothed and concerns not dismissed. She couldn't explain the muscle spasm but could definitely see why I was freaking out. She was the one who tested me for peace of mind. She looked into Lyme disease. She found my anemia. She explained that the amount of time that had elapsed made her sure I was going to be ok. She had watched people die in Africa from this and shw said it happens So Fast it is tragic. I would not be able to organize a trip to Oregon to die. I would become incoherent and slip away within days.

That was what I needed. A timeframe. A legit explanation of what it looks like and how it happens. And why I don't fit. This whole time I had been wondering how to tell my friends. Whether I could write all their numbers down in case I couldnt function enough to call them or remember my phone password. I was planning on cleaning my apartment so good so the landlord couldn't bash me when I was bouncing off the walls and hissing at him. I was deciding who I really needed to contact and who I could live without wasting breath on. I was planning a goodbye party. I told all 3 of my lovers ("´hey, I have this thing there is no real test for while you're alive but there is once you die so you can't get tested, and you may have it so got get shot up but no one is sure if that will help much," but I did tell them and it was hilarious to them. My favorite response being "RIP" and "F") And this all had put me in such a dark place that, coupled with a few shitty days at work with my bully of a manager, I also asked for a psych person to visit me after the Rabies shot.

After her talk I was like, oh. Thank godddd. And kinda annoyed at having to wait an extra hour in the ER for a talk that could wait til morning. But I chatted with rhem and asked for referral to a shrink since this had just highlighted how much I need help with my anxiety. Especially since the temporary issue of Rabies was being resolved but my cruel manager was still going to exist now that I was going to survive this beef with nature. It was nice to think of that way "my rabies beef is getting cooked" and the pscyh lady got me help. So that was nice. I just mainly needed to get healthy again so I could

I mean. Almostbarelybutnotreally facing a cruel death was a great way to look at life and reflect on some things. There are messes I am not at fault for, messes I avoid that I shouldn't, people and things I value and the objects that matter to me more than others for ridiculous reasons. I was so grateful to the staff for putting up with me. And for you for reading.

All of this just to say

Circle circle dot dot

Soon I get my last Rabies Shot

[demyrie]

I'm curious but why did you delete JAM? It was one of my favorite JxD fics and I never got to finish reading it.

ahhhh oh dear, yeah, that happened.

So, for everyone arriving, I wrote a fic called Just Another Mission for the Jak and Daxter game series, and Jak/Daxter pairing. Yes, the green haired elf protag with the fuzzy orange thing, which btw used to be a human and was a human in fic. I think I started it when I was maybe 14 (yikes omg) and a few years ago, I deleted it, and I don’t delete fics.

Rant and personal history ahead, but tldr; i deleted this particular fic because:

1) I became more and more uncomfortable with the way I’d treated certain characters without giving them respect or resolution (throwing around things like domestic abuse while being too young to properly understand What I Was Doing or How to Answer Very Triggered Friends Who Had the Misfortune of Reading This I’m So Goddamn Sorry, as well as falling into that Not Like Other Girls slash fan ditch of treating female characters like shit/obstacles to the main pairing WHICH IS JUST ******) as well as personally uncomfortable portrayals of obsession and taking advantage of people that turn my stomach to this day (see reason 4)

2) i got way in over my head with my own writing/style which was so obtuse and self-indulgent that I felt a great amount of shame over it, including the attention it had gotten, and the way it went to my head and turned me into an egotistic little shit. I was an asshole peacock and I regret it. There was a break where I got waylaid before the final confrontation in the fic (see reason 4, also a very bad time to get held up in any narrative) and when I returned to the story, i nearly cried because it was such a mess and I didn’t know what I was saying anymore. Finishing it was a struggle and I even remember one JnD fan friend being like “hey this chapter seemed really curt??? short?? not like you” and I was like YEAH THATS NOT ME ANYMORE god i hope

3) there was a sort of ... anti-JxD surge in my little pool from people I really respected and it made me think i was doing something wrong even just remembering it, so I cut off that memory.

4) it coincided with two ugly relationships in my life that marred it, and I just wanted it gone for my own mental health.

So anon, I’m very sorry that you never got to finish it. I had good intentions in mind and gave them a happy ending where they realized they loved each other, even if the journey there was difficult. 

It both touched me and broke a piece of my heart when someone came to me years ago and asked me why I had deleted it, saying the story had given them the courage to come out as gay to their family. In that moment, overwhelmed with how ProblematicTM the whole story was, I was really struck with just ... how subjective our world experience is, and how so many things can mean so many different things to every single soul and how terrifyingly VALID peoples experiences are, no matter how they come by them. We’re all so unique and convoluted, one man’s trash is another man’s treasure -- and one man’s trigger is another man’s key to Becoming. But no matter how inspiring, I couldn’t bring myself to repost it. 

Hopefully this will be the only fic i ever delete with relish. Jak and Daxter will always be a good memory for me, regardless. Thanks for the ask, anon.

(even more) personal stuff below the cut. tw for stalking, harassment, manipulation and emotional abuse.

So.

Im a firm believer in stories living beyond their authors (something that JK rowling doesnt seem to understand iykwim). I don’t normally delete past works, because while I wrote them, I also know that they’ve outgrown me as most narratives do: people are absolutely allowed to enjoy what they want to or need to, not just because I think said thing is reflective of my current work or jives with my current stage of life. 

However, JAM was a particular Thing that Had to Go.

The timeline is hella fuzzy to me because I’ve blocked a lot of it out, but I was coming out of middle school and struggling with my mental health. On the real life side, I was stuck in a situation with a close friend of mine who was very fixated on us being in a relationship and the pining was loud enough to hear from the other side of the country. Wounded people pleaser that I was, I flipped (exhaustingly) back and forth between “i dont like you like that” and “but I want you to be happy so what if I tried liking you like that?” and there was massive amounts of hidden hurt and resentment and tension and abandonment complex activation and just ... a strangling of anything that made our friendship good for either of us. 

Also she was a she. So. Yannoe, gay is difficult.

This definitely burnt me out on the “best friends pining” trope and is probably legit the ONLY reason I’m not equally in the erasermic and erasermight camp haha. That trope feels claustrophobic and draining to me, so I leave it for others to enjoy.

It also coincided with a married 45yo adult man luring me into a “platonic, ecstatic, boundary-breaking, you-are-my-beautiful-young-muse, words cannot express how much I love you” creative type relationship that inevitably turned possessive, domineering and manipulative. Within the bounds of the Renaissance Faire community, I thought he was a safe person and he was not, and his constant reassurance that I wasn’t like other women my age was absolutely hypnotizing to a undeveloped soul who really, really wanted to be special.

We traded poetry and tarot card readings over email. He bought me manga and shared stories about his time overseas and in the service. He made me props to go with my renaissance faire character and showed me where to find cheap leather so I could piece things together myself.

He also stalked me and owned me for the better part of a year and I only realized it once he started harassing a dear friend of mine overseas, whom I was visiting, about a package that he’d sent, which apparently he’d covered in original poetry to let me know how much he loved me But Not In a Hetero or Sexual Way Bro, so of course he didn’t want it to get lost in the postal system. So what is he going to do? Note my friend twice a day asking if its arrived until she inevitably, tearfully spills that this guy is stressing her out and who is he anyway?

My horrible secret was out, which only sounded horrible when I explained it to someone else. I realized this man was trying to follow me wherever i went and I got so fucking angry that he was messing with my friend that I had to stop it.

(He called me a cunt when I broke it off with him on the phone in the dark on the floor of my bedroom in the middle of the night so my parents wouldn’t hear, then sobbed and said he was sorry. I was so dissociated from the rush of anger and helplessness that it took for me to actually MAKE the call that all I could do was wiggle my foot and watch it in the reflection of the mirror on the back of my door, and think maybe I was a cunt but I wasn’t his cunt anymore. So there. 

Afterward I slammed my forehead into the mirror a few times to make sure I’d actually done it and it wasn’t a dream.)

During all of this, I was writing this stupid fic. I think. Honestly, I don’t fucking know, but I can’t think of it without thinking of him and how i was devoured.

The stress of hiding this “totally wonderful but NORMAL PEOPLE DONT UNDERSTAND WHAT WE HAVE!!!!” grooming shit from my parents was gutting me alive, and I was so far gone RE: worthiness/autonomy that I didn’t even consider why I BOTHERED diffusing his petulant accusations over notes on deviantArt again and again as he baited me into shit just to explode over how I didn’t love him and I figured out another way to soothe his engorged and tarry ego without explicitly lying that I loved him too. 

He made me regret my silver tongue and way with words as I used it to defend myself again and again, and crushed my love of writing. I would pace the neighborhood for almost an hour several times a week, claiming I was ‘exercising’ but really trying to understand why i felt so trapped, or where the lines between love and hate lay, or why I wanted to cry all the time, as i low key tried to get hit by a car just to force something to change in my life and jolt me out of his smothering, needy nightmare of constant texting and emails and notes. I couldn’t fucking flinch without him knowing about it, and asking me if I was okay. For this reason, I react very poorly to people fretting over me at length, and loudly. I get angry and feel violated, or just pinned to the floor by someone Performing their love on me with no real regard for my health.

This whole time, I was escaping into fandom. It probably saved my life, in one way or another, because I found friends who supported me and made me laugh in the JnD sphere. Especially the friend whose distress caused me to snap and realize This Couldn’t Continue.

This terrible man was the first one outside of my friend group that I showed my writing to, the first adult as well. It was on the dark side even then, but he said it was wonderful and amazing. He teased me for being stuck up in my authors notes on JAM (one of the reasons I’m just getting over ... talking ...) but said it inspired him to start writing as well. He used that writing to imagine hokey sprawling stories of him being a hot rod racer and me being his sexy girlfriend, Very Totally in Love. Why Couldn’t We have Just Met in a Different Lifetime??? not that its a relevant question for my young 16yo friend lol just something dreamers wonder lol lol here why don’t you take this traditional irish engagement ring aka claddagh i bought for you, lie to your parents and say I bought one for everyone in our renfaire group, and turn it toward your heart, to imply that you’re in love, so that I can keep your heart safe for you until you find a boyfriend?

FUCKER YOU ABSOLUTE FUCKER ok I’m done. Fuck.

JAM was a project of mine that spanned a year or two and is intrinsically tangled in those very bad relationships and very bad lessons. I deleted it because I needed to, for purely personal reasons beyond the fact that it was generally bombastic, over-long, tone-deaf and dealt with very serious issues poorly. Due to these experiences, you won’t catch me in a hot minute writing either best-friends-pining or heavy jealousy/possessiveness fic, but everyone else? Go crazy just tag your shit.

so. anyway. isn’t subjectivity actually terrifying? You never know what something can mean to someone else. So just ask, maybe.

Damn, son. Some fics you just can’t repost.

[all-alone-he-turns-to-stone]

We don’t believe what’s on TV - Chapter 22

<<Chapter 19 / Chapter 20 / Chapter 21 / Chapter 23 / Chapter 24 / Chapter 25 / Chapter 26 / Chapter 27 / Chapter 28 / Chapter 29

Resume: I had an ordinary life, or that’s what I wanted to believe. I lost myself in the TV series that I listened to forget the normal boring life. What I didn’t know, however, was that my life would change completely overnight.

Finding myself in 2013 at Beacon Hills County.

This will be a Stiles x Reader but only further in the story

In this chapter: The motel. Questions. Interrogations and what should I do?

Word count: 2271

A/N: Sorry I’m late again! But I start school tomorrow and won’t be able to write as much as I want but I’ll do my best! Thanks to @maddie110201 who took the time to proofread it, you’re my hero!

Tell me what you think about it! (please lol)

I couldn’t imagine what was going to happen. A lot of things could happen in one night and I was even more nervous about the risks I was taking in accompanying the characters in each episode and changing things. What would happen if I changed something now and two seasons later someone would die because of it? Fear and nervousness dwelled in my body and numbed it a little more every day. Were my actions justified? My intentions good? There were only bad emotions bubbling in me and I only wanted to roll into a ball and cry. To this was added the weakness in all my body and the image of my nightmare which no longer wanted to disappear from my mind.

And this time, I didn’t think I was going to recover in only a few hours. The weakness seemed to be attached to me, as if a weight of 1,000 pounds was behind me, tied by a rope to my waist and another weight on my shoulders. It was as if the pain was still there, deep, present, waiting for the best time for a surprise attack and it frightened me. But what scared me the most was that something was going to change. Motel California was my favorite episode, it was the favorite episode of many fans. An episode high in emotion, an episode that made me cry while watching it, every time. And I knew that if anything changed, the repercussions would be horrible. If Stiles didn’t save Scott from the darach’s hallucination and threatening to burn himself, Scott couldn’t recall that moment in season 6 where everyone had to remember Stiles.

I wanted to sleep. Only rest a little without constant fear or anger, without having horrible nightmares. I felt incredibly tired and helpless. What if I lay down in bed and decided to just stay still while everything happened? I couldn’t change anything. And I won’t have to stress over it. But I knew that even if I went to bed, anxiety was going to give me a stomach ache and my eyes would remain open in fear that something would change. That finally Scott kills himself. That they can’t save Boyd and Isaac from death. Or even Ethan. I couldn’t let this happen.

“Y / N?” A soft voice spoke near me and I finally remembered where I was. Stiles was still near me and helped me walk to our room, Lydia following us. The latter, moreover, threw many glances around her, frightened, feeling that horrible things had happened here and that others were coming.

"I’m fine,” I smiled faintly, an action that demanded more strength than I would’ve thought. Stiles didn’t seem convinced, his gaze slowly detailing me to find out of my condition. But he added nothing.

Finally we reached the door of the room. On the other side I could hear Scott and Allison talking, but too low for me to be able to get the words. However, as soon as we stopped at the closed door, silence welcomed us. And the door opened to Scott, who seemed more worried than ever. No word came out of his mouth as he helped me to a bed, Stiles’s, and the two boys helped me to sit on it.

“We’re gonna go,” Lydia mumbled, grabbing Allison by the wrist to get out and slamming the door behind her. As soon as we were alone, I could feel Scott’s eyes on me and I knew the questions would follow before he even opened his mouth. He was sitting on his bed in front of me.

“Now you tell me everything, Y / N. Everything. And don’t try to lie, because… ”

“She can’t say everything,” a hoarse voice interrupted him and I raised my head towards Stiles, who had his hand against his chin, standing beside me, reflecting, gazing at the void. Feeling that everyone’s attention was on him, he came out of his thoughts and gesticulated with his hands. “You know Scott. We talked about it. ”

“And you think … that …” Scott started, hesitating, glancing at me. “What we talked about … would be somehow the cause of what happens to her when she …? ”

I didn’t know what they were talking about. Did they know the monster of my nightmares that spoke in my head and made me sick? No, it was impossible. They couldn’t know.

“Dude, it’s Beacon Hills,” was all Stiles answered before glancing at me who was lost like a Japanese tourist visiting Canada.

Did they know? If so, how much did they know? Did Stiles understand everything? If they understood what I was going through, would they try to help me? Do research in the bestiary? And the voice, was it going to be angry? Surely. But I hadn’t had any sign of it since the nightmare. As if it was preparing its next move. And it was going to be painful.

“I’ll be careful,” I whispered, wiping my nose, feeling the tiredness invading my limbs. “I … I just want to do good …” I added, feeling my defenses abandon me. I was going to cry. My heart was getting worse and worse and a dull ache twisted my stomach. I could already feel the first sob coming up. I wanted to cry because I was relieved, relieved that they were beginning to understand and that in spite of that, they weren’t abandoning me. But I was also weeping because I was so exhausted by everything that happened to me, everything that happened to us. But at the same time I didn’t want to cry in front of them. And just as I was going to hide myself in the pillow so no one would see me in that state, I felt a presence close to me and arms wrap me up. Immediately my arms clung to him like a buoy and I huddled my face against his neck to smell his scent. The pain that gnawed at me from within disappeared immediately and when I lifted my head slowly from Stiles’ embrace, it was to see Scott looking at us, a small smile at the corner of his lips.

My heart started racing and the red rose to my cheeks as a heat spread throughout my body. Damn, I got carried away again by the moment and the comfort Stiles brought me and this, in front of someone. Pull yourself back together, Y / N, you’re dying of embarrassment, but you shouldn’t show it. Ah, and Stiles who didn’t let go of his embrace so reassuring, I would have spent hours in his arms without ever getting tired of it.

In the end, I was the one who gently pull back, sniffling and my gaze met Stiles’ to stay there. For a moment the time seemed to stop. Yes, very cliché, but that’s the impression I felt.

“I’m going to … get me something to eat in the vending machine downstairs I …” Stiles began without looking away as he licked his lips nervously. “I’ll be back,” he finally said before getting up and leaving the room quickly without adding anything and as soon as the door slammed behind him, I could only lay myself down on the bed. I turned my head towards Scott, who lay down on his bed at the same time, his little smile still on his face.

“Don’t say anything,” I began, feeling embarrassed.

“I wasn’t going to say anything. Besides I won’t tell him anything either. I got your back, lil sis.” Scott said softly and his smile fell when he understood what he had said. “Oh I didn’t mean…”

“Scott. We passed that step, don’t you think?” I cut him, smiling in my turn, serene. Then I added one last thing after turning on the opposite side and closing my eyes. "You’re a perfect big brother, Scott McCall.”

And it was only by waking up that I realized that my intervention had cut a scene. The scene where Stiles and Scott talked about Stiles’ list of suspects. He had never been able to tell him. I didn’t know what the impact would be on the future.

I didn’t realize I had fallen asleep. All I knew was that when I opened my eyes suddenly as I straightened up in the bed, my breath short, my hand against my heart, an intense nausea rising in my throat, there was no one left in the room. The nightmare with Stiles ripped off that accuses me of killing him, I had it again. And this time was only even more real, so much so I had to lift my t-shirt to watch if I was okay. It took me a few minutes to wake up and find myself in reality. I didn’t know what time it was and why the room was empty. Had they let me sleep? But then, where was everybody? And, above all, how much time had passed? Stress began to gain on me. What if it was too late? What if…

My thoughts were interrupted by someone knocking at my door forcefully. The blows were quick and especially so strong I was afraid for a moment the door would break. I got up, frightened but intrigued to know who wanted to enter. No one weird was in the motel tonight … right?

“Y / N!” Ethan’s voice was on the other side and I rushed to open it as soon as I recognized him. He suddenly landed in my room as soon as the door opened. He was topless and totally panic-stricken, panic that intensified as he was looking around him and, above all, he kept pinning his fingers in his chest, trying to tear his skin apart like something was underneath.

"What is happening to me! Tell me what happens to me!” He shouted as he walked towards me and all I could do was back away, helpless. He had hallucinations, he wasn’t supposed to come to me, he was supposed to…

And once again the plot of the episode was changed.

Seeing that I didn’t answer, frightened, Ethan came closer and grabbed me by the collar. He was horribly afraid of what was happening to him and he knew I was the only one who knew what was going on.

"Hallucinations …” I mumbled softly, knowing I had already mentioned this detail and Ethan knew it too because he dropped my t-shirt to clap his hands against his head brutally.

“How does it stop?!” He yelled as he fell on his knees and I pitied him. He was suffering and I had no idea how to help him. He wasn’t supposed to be here, I was helpless and stress kept me from thinking. It must have been for this reason the answer crossed my lips without me realizing it. Answer I shouldn’t have known.  I shouldn’t have said either.

"Pain can…” I started to help him before I realized my mistake. I wasn’t supposed to know that.

Sudden pain made me fall to my knees in front of him. Sudden, intense and totally unexpected, I remained paralyzed and fell on the side, caught in painful spasms. My body didn’t tolerate any further discharge of pain, no sound came out of my mouth as I was twisting in pain on the floor. I don’t know how long I spent twisting on the floor, feeling the metallic taste in my throat without anything coming out. Then a hand stood on my arm. My ears were cottony and I couldn’t hear anything, but I felt the pain leaving me slowly as if it was absorbed by someone else. My eyes closed by the pain suddenly opened and settled on Ethan who didn’t let go of my arm despite the pain that twisted his face. Eventually, all the pain disappeared from my body and I sat down quickly, feeling suddenly better, now free from pain. But Ethan wasn’t doing well. Even if he had let go of my arm and stopped absorbing my pain, I could see he was still hurt. His arm was placed against his chest in a protective way, as if he was hurting.

Our eyes finally crossed. He looked confused, surprised, and frightened? His eyes were wide, and he stood up, shaking his head.

“What are you …” He mumbled in a low voice and his words pinched my heart. But the worst was when he began to retreat, as if I threatened him with a weapon.

“ Don’t go!” I begged him, the fatigue suddenly striking me, which made me fall to my knees the moment I tried to get up. The pain was gone, but not the fatigue. "We have to help … the others will live through the same thing! ”

It was rare for me to beg anyone. Especially an alpha. A bad alpha even less. But I didn’t think I could do it alone. I didn’t even know where Scott or Stiles were. I needed someone who knew what was happening and who could help me.

“Not my problem,” Ethan told me before turning his heels and leaving without another glance at me.

And I remained on my knees on the dirty floor of the motel, powerless, tears of despair burning my tired eyes.

In the next chapter: Everything happens. But for the best, or for the worse?

Tags: @kwien-cee @saoirsewhittle @standalls @anonimereader06 @shantayok @thiscuriouslymiss @dashofsunshineblog @negative-love @sarasmismyonlydefence @sharenaloveyoux @hoedorshegort @tomlinsonlovers @brianaisasongbird @xcastawayherosx @reganf @quit-it-stilinski @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @bunnyboo10154 @pass-me-jeez-it @maddie110201 @lovelustmendes @imaginationgotmegood @5sospoplikerock @mmeyers915 @caitsymichelle13 @capandbuck @tegan-eva @zoejane28 @mysticalbanshee @artgurl559-blog @roscoes-backseat @teenwolfimagines1841 @jimmyisfab @chivesoup @stilesxxl @slightly-depressed-idiot @parislight @yougottalovefandoms @eleventhdoctorsangel @ajlly @hattyohatt @xqueenariax

Next Chapter ->

[gldngrl7]

Karamel Fic: Permission to Flourish (10/11)

Title: Permission to Flourish Author: gldngrl7 Date Started: February 12, 2017 Rating: T for Teen (I know!  I can’t believe it either!)

Some of you may know I received hate comments on Ao3 about my story “A Favor Among Friends” (I'm sure there’s more to come).  In honor of that hate, I am posting another chapter of THIS story today to give that hater a big fate middle finger.  Fuck you.  I’m still here.  And I’m going no where.  And the more hate you send me -- the dirtier my stories are going to get.

To be clear: THIS is not a dirty story.  LOL

Author’s Notes: 

This story is the sequel to Bulletproof.  Please read that one-shot before diving into this one.

Comments are welcomed, flames are destroyed with my freeze breath.

So many, many thanks to my those who’ve taken the time to comment: @lostin-the-desert, @anaveragegirl15, @threesilverthings88, @emarasmoak, @myfangirlinghq, @hermi1907

@hemusickat,   -- Your low-key prompt inspired the last pages of this chapter. I hope it meets most of your desires.

         Chances lost are hopes torn up pages                   Maybe this time                            Chances are we’ll be the combination           Chances come and carry me                    Chances are waiting to be taken                               And I can see

         --Five for Fighting – “Chances”

Chapter 10/11

Once in the apartment, Mike noted the collection of cleansers on the kitchen island and the combined smell of air freshener and wood polish.  “Spring cleaning?” he chuckled nervously, hoping to break the tension.

“Clearing out the cobwebs…so to speak.  Not that there were actual cobwebs.  They were metaphorical cobwebs.  Because I would never have spiders living in my loft to begin with…or bugs in general.  I am a very clean person,” she babbled.  Thank goodness Alex had come over this morning and kicked her butt into high gear, Kara realized.  If she hadn’t, Mon-El might have arrived to find her loft a veritable pig-sty.  How humiliating would that have been?  And revealing.

Mike pointed at the smudge of dirt on cheek.  “You have a little something on your face…just there.”  He thought about cleaning her face, the way Mrs. Scheinbaum would do for him without a second thought, but decided against it.  Such intimacies were too far beyond them at the moment.

Kara’s hand flew to her check, the wrong one, and wiped furiously.

“Wrong side,” he said, trying his damnedest not to find it humorous, and failing miserably.

Blushing furiously, she considered her escape options.  “I’m just going to…back in a sec.”  She super sped to the bathroom, nearly collapsing into a panic when she caught sight of her wrecked visage in the mirror.  “Rao!  I look horrible,” she said, fighting back her rising emotions.

Kara washed her hands thoroughly before scrubbing her face with a washcloth so hard she nearly shredded the thick, terry material.  But when she was done, her skin was glowing again.  Tearing her hair out of the ponytail holder, she ran a brush through it before replacing it with two small barrettes, one on each side of her head.  She allowed the rest of her long- golden tresses to flow freely down to her mid-back.

She debated changing into something nicer, but decided that would seem like she was trying too hard.  Justified by the fact that her clothes were filthy from cleaning, she changed into another clean pair of yoga pants and a short sleeved t-shirt with a deep v-neck.  It was faded and soft and very…touchable.

Kara stepped out of the bathroom with all the nervousness of girl about to be seen by her prom date.  She clasped her hands behind her back to hide the fact that there were trembling.

‘Shiny’, was the only word his dumbstruck mind could construct as he saw her emerge from her bathroom.  Her cheeks rosy pink, her skin reflecting the crude light like the pearly inside of an oyster shell.  She was beautiful before, dirt and all, but now she was luminescent.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said.  She’d been gone no more than fifteen seconds, but it seemed like hours to her and even longer to him.  Referring to her new attire, “I was filthy from….”

“Cobweb cleaning?” he filled in.

“Right.  So…you came here to talk...?”

“I didn’t really plan this though,” he advised her, attempting a chuckle to mask his nervousness.  Even though her fifteen second disappearance into the bathroom would have been considered a blink of the eye by human standards, to them it was long enough to have second thoughts.  Long enough for his inner demon of anxiety to whisper in his ear about how she would only hurt him again if he let her back in.  Mike gagged the inner demon and shoved it as far to the back of his mind as it would go.  Sometimes, you have to do things because you fear them, not in spite of it.  “I left the hospital and just sort of…flew here.”

Sensing something she could latch onto, a neutral ground upon which they could begin negotiations as it were, Kara stepped forward eagerly and hopefully.  “How is she?” Kara asked.  “Amelia.”

“The injury was critical, but the surgery was a success,” he explained, happy for the neutral ground as well.  “The doctor wanted to keep her in a coma for a few days to facilitate healing.”

As he spoke, she retrieved clean plates, still hot from the dishwasher, and placed them on the island, while he opened the boxes.  “That doesn’t sound…good.”

“It was terrifying,” he concurred.  “But they took her off the sedation this morning and she woke up about two hours ago.  She’s lucid and answering questions and recognizing people.  All hopeful signs.”

“Well that is good news then,” Kara replied diplomatically.

Mike cleared his throat, watching her as she hunted through kitchen drawers for napkins.  He noticed that her hands were shaking slightly, and suspected she invented the task to keep them busy, which made him feel a little more confident.  “I hope you understand that I needed to see Amelia through this before I could even begin to tackle the reasons why you…found me.”

“Of course,” she agreed, nodding her head.  “I would never put my desires over the well-being of a child.”

Mike pursed his lips thoughtfully and replied, tactfully—formally, “Thank you for your understanding.  When I saw you….” No that wasn’t the right way to begin, he thought.  “I want you to know that I heard what you said at the hospital,” he began again, “but I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to hear it.  Do you understand?”

“Of course,” she nodded, her brow crinkled with concern.  “I know how important she is to you.  And her mother.”

“That’s another thing,” Mike asserted, shaking his head as he leaned on the counter.  “I’m not sure what you think you saw, but I believe you misinterpreted whatever it was.  Belinda is a very nice, very strong single mother who had something terrible happen to her daughter on my watch.  I was there to help support her through a difficult time.  Nothing more.”

Kara had a hard time assimilating his words.  She wanted to believe them but was afraid her ears were playing tricks on her, or that her mind was interpreting what she wanted to hear.  “But I saw—“

“I think your mind was afraid of seeing something, so that’s what it showed you.  You were wrong.  She’s a beautiful woman but I don’t have those kinds of feelings for her.  I’ve never been able to have those kinds of feelings for anyone…but you.”

Food forgotten, Kara’s head snapped up, her eyes drawn inexorably to his.  “Really?” she asked, her voice a prayer.

“Not for lack of trying,” he answered, a hint of bitterness in his tone.  “I’m still angry, Kara.  Sometimes it…fuels me…the anger I feel inside.  I’m man enough to admit that part of me is…afraid of letting go of that anger, because…I’m not sure who I am without it.  It’s been a part of who I am for so long.  Look…I’m not sure what I ever did to deserve the things you said to me that night in the bar.  Except to love you.  I know I wasn’t good at it or that I could ever deserve you.  I knew all of that then, which is why I tried to keep it from you.  It was a burden that didn’t need sharing.”

“But I forced you…manipulated you,” she acknowledged, guiltily, her lips forming into a self-contemptuous twist.  “I made you feel like you had no choice because I said I couldn’t trust you.”

“Yes.”

“I wanted information and I didn’t even know what to do with it once I got it.  So stupid,” she derided, her eyes squeezed tightly shut.

“Sharing that information…my feelings for you…screwed everything up, and we can never get that back.”

It was everything she didn’t want to hear, wrapped up in a single soul shattering sentence.

“Being around me afterwards was clearly so awkward and painful for you.  I know it was painful for me.  I just wanted to give some sense of normalcy back to you by leaving.  You were supposed to forget about me.”

“That was never going to happen, Mon—Mike,” she stumbled over his name again.  “Forgetting you was impossible.  You meant…mean…too much to me.”

“You need to understand…that’s not how it felt.”  Mike stuffed his hands into the front pocket of his jeans, attempted to fight off the dark feelings that welled within him when he thought of those lonely days.  It was important, he knew, that they were speaking these truths to one another, opening themselves up, but that made it no less painful.

“I know,” she replied, her voice thick with emotion.  “That’s on me and I’m so, so sorry.”

“That’s not why I’m here,” Mike said, shaking his head with a sigh.  “Apologies.  I’ve heard enough of them from you to last a lifetime.  And read them.  I read your emails the other night, after you took off from the hospital,” he confessed.  “I guess something inside me…needed to know.”

“You never read them,” she surmised.  All the time she spent composing her apologies and exposing her vulnerabilities in writing, and he’d never even read them.  All this time she’d thought he’d simply been unmoved.

“I didn’t have the will, I guess.  I figured if I read them, they’d make me want to come crawling back.  And I couldn’t have that.”  

“I meant them,” she confessed, a blush rising up her neck.  “Every word.”

After a moment of silence between them, he continued.  “They were beautiful, Kara, and they confirmed what I think I’ve just come to realize – what I wasn’t ready to see back then.  That for you, loving someone means having one more thing to lose.  And I was right…they would have made me want to return to National City, to you, but…then nothing would have changed.  For either of us.  I look back now, with the life I’ve made for myself…the life I’ve earned for myself…and think, ‘that was no life for me.’”

“You’ve done very well,” she agreed, wishing she could tell him how proud she was of him, but knowing how inappropriately proprietary that would sound.  She’d had nothing to do with creating the man that stood before her now, and could say nothing that implied otherwise.  So instead she said,   “You’ve become a man to be proud of.  Being with me only held you back.  Leaving was the right thing.” Her throat tightened as she said the words, as though her body was fighting the truth.  “I see that now.”

“Do you?”

“Yes,” she nodded, her eyes welling with tears.  “I failed you in every way.  Broke every promise I ever made to you.”

“Some of the promises you made, weren’t yours to fulfill, Kara.  And you didn’t fail me in every way.  You were the first to believe me,” he reminded her, with gratitude.  “The first to give me a chance.  You inspired me with your goodness and your empathy for others.  I hadn’t seen much of that in my life, quite frankly.  All I had ever known was that caring about people had consequences.  Deadly ones.  Usually for the very people I cared about.  You gave me a glimpse at another way and for that I’ll always be thankful.”

“I never really knew you, did I?” she pondered, intrigued by the mentions of his past.  A past that sounded traumatic and not at all like the privileged life she had imagined a prince might lead.  “Part of me was afraid to ask because I didn’t want to remind you of everything you’d lost.  But that was just an excuse.  The truth is, I wanted to take what I saw at face value.  I didn’t want to look too deeply.  It wasn’t until you left I realized it was another way that I failed you.”

“How mad were you when they told you who I really was?” he inquired.  Mike couldn’t help but wonder how that had all played out.  Turned out that she’d never mentioned it in her emails.  “Did they…even tell you?”

Kara nodded.  “I wasn’t angry.  I was never angry, Mon-Mike,” she reassured him.  “You would have told me the truth if I hadn’t made it impossible for you to do so.  I believe that.  You were in distress, remember?  And I had some pretty scathing opinions on the Prince of Daxam.  I’m glad I know the truth now.”

“That I was the Prince of Daxam,” he said, saying it aloud for the first time since the day he left National City.  The words formed clumsily around his tongue as though they were a foreign language to him.

“That the Prince of Daxam wasn’t who they said he was.  That he was a good man,” she corrected.  “That’s the truth I’m glad I know.”

“He wasn’t a good man,” Mike contended.  “Maybe once, he could’ve been, but the boy’s father made certain that wouldn’t happen.  It wasn’t until meeting you that he found that part of himself again.  The part that his father stole from him.”

Kara knew then that she wanted to know every last thing there was to know about the man standing before her.  Not just Mike Matthews, but Mon-El of Daxam as well.  It was an opportunity she took for granted from the moment he woke from that stasis sleep after his crash landing.  She had once vowed that if given the chance she would ask, she would delve beneath the surface she hadn’t bothered to scratch the first time around.  

“I don’t know about any of that,” she said, reaching out to take his hand, before thinking better of it and pulling hers back.  “About your past on Daxam, I mean.  But I want to.  I want to know everything, if you’ll let me.”  She wanted to learn him inside and out – wanted that so desperately.  She wanted the chance to do that so desperately.

“After reading your emails the other night I finally accepted something I’d been fighting for a long time.”

“What was that?”

“That you’re inescapable,” he confessed with a shrug, his hands shoved deeply into his pockets.  “That you have me trapped, Kara Zor-El, like the moon orbits the Earth, and I will never get out of your gravity no matter how far I run.  That I don’t even want to.  I figure the sooner I accept that…the better off I’ll be.”

Kara’s heart took flight, but she yanked it back to her side with ruthless efficiency before it could get too far.  Was he saying what she thought he was saying?  “I’m not…sure what that means,” she confessed, honestly.  “I know what I want it to mean, but I’m…afraid to hope for more.”

“I’m not sure what it means either, to be honest.  I just know that trying to pretend you don’t exist isn’t working.  Trying to make you believe I never existed clearly isn’t working.  Maybe what it should mean is that we…try again.”

“Try again?” she asked, the hope in her voice painfully evident.

“There would have to be rules,” he insisted.  “I need to be certain that we’re not going to repeat the same mistakes we made the first time around.”

No amount of rules could prevent her from taking a chance at having him back in her life again.  “Yeah, you’re definitely a grade school teacher…with the rules,” she said, game for whatever would bring this six-year long nightmare to an end.  “Name them.”

“I’ve been doing my own superhero thing for a while now, Kara, and I’ve been trained by the best.  All of the best.  I’m not a newbie anymore.  I need you to recognize that.”

“I do,” she nodded enthusiastically.  Like a fangirl, Kara had two scrapbook clippings full of articles of him doing his ‘superhero thing’.

“I’m going to need you to listen to me now,” he said.  “I have opinions and thoughts and experiences that are different from yours.  Those experiences have no less merit than yours and should be treated accordingly.  I can help you, Kara, but only if you let me.”

Kara nodded.  His demands were no less than the kind of respect he should have been afforded in the first place.  But she’d been too bossy and too flush with the power of mentorship to notice the damage she was doing to the person she was supposed to be guiding.  “I understand,” she agreed.

“We need to find a way to get past this, Kara.  We can’t be friends if we’re constantly reminding each other of where it all went wrong.  Can you understand that?”

Her sister’s words from earlier in the day when they’d been curled up under the goose down together came back to her in a rush.  “We need a do-over!” she exclaimed.

“A…do-over.”

“Yeah, it’s when you want—“

“I teach second grade,” he reminded her.  “I’m familiar with the concept of a ‘do-over’.  It’s like rule #4 in playground etiquette.”  

“Oh, right.”

“But grown-ups don’t get do-overs,” he announced.  Then, with a tilt of his head asked, “Do they?”

“Why shouldn’t they?” Kara asked, her hands raised palms up.  “Who says we can’t?”

“Right,” Mike nodded, as though conspiring with her.  “Who says we can’t?  It’s not like there’s a ‘Do-over Council’.”

“Definitely not,” she confirmed, her eyes finally sparkling again.

“Okay…just so we’re clear.  A do-over means no throwing our past back in each other’s faces.  No matter how mad we get about something.”

“No using the differences in our experience level against one another,” she added with a nod, her fingers twisting nervously around each other.

“No…ignoring my perfectly valid opinions because you think you know better.”  Mike’s eyes squinted suspiciously as he watched her absorb that one.  It was, in his judgement, perhaps the most important of all his conditions.

Kara only nodded in agreement.  There was nothing she could say to his statement.  All in all, the implication had been nothing but truth, and in some ways it was a microcosm of how their entire relationship had played out.   “Again, I am so—“

“And no more apologies,” he finished, succinctly.  “They’re just a reminder and we don’t need any more of those.”

When they’d first met all those years ago, after he’d landed on this planet, he’d been a person who had taken few things seriously.  With the exception of her health and well-being, Mon-El had seen little in the world worth fighting for or protecting.  A single glance into his eyes told her that was no longer the case.  She no longer knew who this man was, but she was excited about the prospect of finding out.  The bones were still there to be sure—the DNA—but so many deviations had seeped in and filled the cracks her negligence had left behind.

“No more apologies,” she echoed on a whisper.

Mike swallowed heavily.  “So…that’s that, I guess.  A fresh start.”

“Not quite,” Kara shook her head.  “Just one more thing.”  She held out her hand to Mike and said, “Hi.  My name is Kara Zor-El.  I’m from Krypton and like you…I’m a refugee on this planet.”

A wide grin split his face, like the sun breaking through thick cloud cover, and he responded by grasping her offered hand.  “Lar Gand, Prince of Daxam,” he replied.  “But my friends call me Mon-El.  Or just…Mike.  I’m not particular.”

“Lar Gand,” she repeated, her brow crinkling between her eyebrows.

“Only my parents called me that.  And then only during formal occasions,” he confessed.

‘There’s so much I don’t know about you,” she said, sadness in her tone.   “That I never knew.”

“The good news is…now there’s time to learn,” he reminded her.

“Do you…do you have to go soon?” she asked, hesitantly.  She wanted him to stay for days, weeks…forever.  Casting about for an excuse to get him to stay, something to ease into their new agreement, she struck upon an idea.

“I can stay for a while.”

“Do you like ‘Exploration Force’?” she inquired, hopefully.

“Man, I love that show!” he replied.  “I missed the last episode because of the Dominators though.”

Like a switch had been flipped, her energy level surged and then peaked.  “I know, I know.  Me too!  Thank goodness for whoever invented the DVR.  Do you want to…?”  She gestured towards her television set, still set to pause from the earlier movie.

“That would be great,” he rejoined.  “I’ll warm up the pizza.”

“I’ll get the plates.  Red wine?”

“Sounds good.”

It didn’t take long for them to curl up on the sofa, not entirely like old friends, but near enough.  Kara keyed the remote until their show was playing, and together they discussed the characters and plotlines they loved about a show they both enjoyed, but had never before watched together.

It wasn’t without awkward moments—at first—but those eased away over the next two hours, as the missed episode slid seamlessly into the most recent offering.  Kara wasn’t truly interested in the show, she could watch it later when she was alone, as she usually did, but rather the man sitting next to her on the couch.  Having him there, near enough to smell his cologne was something she’d dreamed of for a very long time and she didn’t want to take a single moment of it for granted.

Similarly, he too was distracted by her presence, by the way her skin glowed, the way her tiny barrettes could barely contain her luscious hair, and by the way her deep V-neck of her t-shirt gave him a tantalizing glimpse of her cleavage.  His fingers itched to tug the barrettes from her hair and card recklessly through her silky locks, kissing her until her mouth moaned into his, hot breath mingling as their tongues tangled together.

For the first time since—he can’t remember when—he felt his blood heat and his body stir with long-lost urgency.  It was a relief to know they still could.

When the show ended, another similarly themed program began but neither of them cared nor paid attention.  Instead, they left the television running for background noise as they chatted and sipped on their wine, nursing the bottle, because they both knew the night would be over when they reached the bottom.

“Will you…tell me about Daxam?” she asked.

After a moment’s pause he launched into his life story, explaining his birthright and the merciless manner of his upbringing.  He had never been comfortable in that life, wearing it like an ill-fitting suit that was too tight in unpleasant places.  Perhaps the discontentment of it explained his relatively rapid adjustment to a new life on Earth.  Or perhaps, in part, the credit could partially be laid at her feet.  She suggested that it would not have been a leap to conclude that both reasons might have played a part in his desire to quickly acclimate to this planet.

While his body felt as though it was awakening from a six year hibernation, by contrast her body felt as though it hadn’t slept in years; not since his departure.  And now that he was here again, once more in her life where he belonged, her body let down all of its protective wards, the compounded weariness of the last few years catching quickly up to her.  As the minutes stretched into hours, it became increasingly difficult to keep her eyes open, despite her curiosity in the things he said.

Kara fought the sleepiness until it overtook her.  She fell asleep on the sofa, facing him, her knees pulled up to her chest, her head leaning against the back of the couch.  Mike kept talking, even after he knew she was down for the count, unwilling to admit that the night had come to an end.

Kara sat right in front of him, sleeping as though not even an alien invasion on the street below could wake her.  He wondered if she was a light sleeper.  Allowing her to slumber, Mike cleaned their mess, throwing out the pizza and pot sticker boxes as well as rinsing their wine glasses and setting them out to dry.  Throughout his movements, she stirred not one iota.  Mike switched off the kitchen and living room lights, leaving on a small light on over the stove as a night light.  Even turning off the television and plunging the room into sudden silence did nothing to disturb her.

Despite their solar-provided abilities, sleeping in that position would leave her with a stiff neck in the morning, and undoubtedly cursing his name for not waking her.

In her bedroom, Mike pulled back the covers of her bed and tossed the throw pillows onto a chair in the corner where, he suspected, they spent much of their time anyway.  Kara didn’t struggle in the slightest when he slipped one arm under her knees and the other around her back.  In fact, she snuggled right into his chest, as if she belonged there (and part of him thought she did).

“Mon-El,” she mumbled, grabbing tightly to his flannel shirt with one hand.  He could hear the flannel fabric straining to withstand her grip.

“I’ve got you,” he replied, placing a kiss on her forehead.  Her fingers loosened slightly at the contact of her lips against her skin.  His lips hovering against the soft skin of her temple, he breathed in her scent before gently laying her on the bed and pulling the sheets over her to tuck her in.  He unclipped her barrettes and gave into the wish fulfillment of running his fingers through her hair.  Two years of working with small children had taught him the way around little girls’ hair accoutrements.  He’d long ago lost count of how many barrettes he’d replaced or how many braids he’d re-plaited.  Setting the clips on the bedside table, Mike reached up to flip the switch on the lamp.

“No,” she mumbled, reaching for his arm.  Her strength tugged him down until he was forced to take a seat on the edge of the mattress.

“What?” he asked.  “What is it?”

“Afraid,” she moaned, still more than half-asleep.

“Afraid of what, Kara?” he inquired, sweeping a lock of hair from her forehead.

“Dreaming?”  Kara lifted her head, her eyes blinking several times to clear the cobwebs.  “Stay?” she asked.  She didn’t want the night to end any more than he did, and by maintaining contact she could keep it going for a while longer.  Maybe even until morning.  “Stay with me?” she asked again, this time begging.

Mike was no fool.  He knew that crawling under the covers with Kara, waking up with her, would be a bad idea.  An idea that would likely end some place for which they might not be ready– at least not while she was half asleep.  In the end, he made a decision he thought they’d both be able to live with in the morning, and beyond.

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” he told her.  “I’ll be here when you wake up in the morning.”

“Promise?”

“I promise,” he echoed.  “I’ll even make breakfast.”

“Mmmmm…pancakes,” she sighed, happily, her fear melting away.

Her fingers loosened the grasp they had on his shirt and released him so that he could finished tucking her in.  With a final glance at her face in the soft light, Mike twisted the switch on the lamp and plunged the room in darkness.

In the living room, Mike kicked off his boots and unfurled the throw blanket hanging over the back of the sofa.  He didn’t want to face a long flight home without the prospect of seeing her again first thing in the morning, any more than she wanted to stare into the abyss of a solid eight hours without knowing it hadn’t all been a dream.  He understood her and was feeling exactly what she was feeling.

At home in his own bed, he would have tossed and turned all night thinking of her, of being here with her.  Instead, crammed onto a sofa with his feet dangling off the end, a throw pillow tucked under his head, he drifted off to sleep in the space of few breaths.

For the first time in six years, Mike Matthews slept the sleep of the innocent the whole night through.

TBC

****

[canaryatlaw]

Well today was pretty good. I couldn't fall asleep for my life last night, I just couldn't get comfortable between my back and my stomach hurting me it just wasn't happening, and I ended up being up till some time after 4 am, which meant when my alarm went off at 9 I was hella tired, but I still managed to drag my ass out of bed like a good little soldier and get ready for church. Got there and checked in with the babies room to make sure they had enough people for the 11 am service as someone cancelled last night, then headed back down for the actual service. It was pretty good, starting a new series called "managing the money monster" which was interesting. It's kind of weird because I know this is the only sermon from the series I'll be there for, and it's not a topic that's super relevant to me because I don't have a job and I'm not earning any money (well, I have a job, but I'm not earning any money, that's the crucial part here). It was generally good advice though, obviously a lot about believing in God to help you handle things, and how finances can kind of be the last hold out for that type of thing. So yeah, it was good. After the service was over I went back upstairs to the babies room and set up for the next service. I was supposed to be joined by the high school girl who helps out pretty often, but she ended up just straight up not showing up, which happens sometimes, so it was just me. I've never really had an issue with it because I know it's not like she has her own car and can drive herself, but the girl who's in charge was slightly miffed about it and ended up texting her about it so *shrug* I'm not terribly invested either way. It ended up being completely fine though, the service went on without a hitch. I ended up with 3 little guys, each almost 2 years old (like they were all 22-23 months) and everything was entirely peaceful pretty much the whole time. First there was a little girl who's been in and out a bit and last I saw was still throwing royal fits for her parents, but surprisingly she calmed down within about 5 minutes with me talking to her and her watching Cinderella on her Amazon Fire, lol. Hey, if it helps, I'm definitely not opposed to using technology to satisfy children that would otherwise be screaming (and it's actually a very helpful trick when there are many of them). So she was content pretty much the whole time. I tried to get her interested in the toys, and she did eventually end up picking up one of the little squeaky ones and squeezing it for a while, so that felt like some progress lol. Then there was my tiny girl, who sadly I think might've had her last service with me because she's about to turn 2 and I'm gonna be gone for the rest of the month. She was good though, enthusiastic as always, and we ran around and played and did everything. She kind of started saying some variation of my name, very very roughly haha, like when you tell her to say "thank you" she makes like a two-syllable noise that sounds vaguely like the words, and that's pretty much what she was doing with "Ra-chel" but hey it's progress so I was pleased lol. Then the last one was the little boy who had previously stayed by the gate the whole service and refused to move, but he apparently also had a change of heart from the last time I saw him because right from the start he ran in with a smile on his face and couldn't have been a happier camper, so I was like okay I'll take it haha. He was a bit rambunctious, mostly because the kids got a heck of an arm on him for a not-quite-yet 2 year old, and took pleasure in throwing the plastic balls from the little ball pit (which was somewhat deflated and apparently a new one is coming) across the room, but then we just made a game of throwing them back so it was fine. And yeah, I have no complaints, it legit went as smoothly as an service ever has haha especially when there's only one person, so I was pleased. The other ladies helping out did check in with me frequently to ensure I was still managing, which I appreciated of course. So, when that was over I headed home, train to the bus, except by the time I got there the bus was still a solid 17 minutes away, and I figured now would be a good time to try the super epic donut shop that's right next to the train station that I've been passing every time I go to work or church since August and have yet refrained from trying (because I don't like eating out on things I know are just gonna be massive calories, or at least when I'm alone, which is often) but I figured now was as good a time as any to give it a try. Chicago has several rather legendary donut places, and this is one of them. They have a few locations around the city but are definitely a Chicago exclusive thing (it's called Stan's Donuts if you're interested). So I go inside and get on the decent sized line, but by the time I got to the counter I still hadn't been able to make up my mind haha because the choices were too awesome, so the lady helping me recommend the "Biscoff pocket" which was a yeast donut stuffed with cookie butter, and it was every bit as amazing as it sounds. I'm always slightly hesitant about cookie butter (only slightly though) just because the texture is similar to peanut butter and I hate peanut butter with every fiber of my being, but it didn't bother me too much. I sat in the window for a few minutes before heading back outside shortly before the bus arrived, so I'd call it a successful adventure. Took the bus the rest of the way home and dove into my schoolwork, first up with trial ad which I had to write an opening statement for. No problem writing it, but the annoying part is the assignment was like "don't even think about using notes" when legit every lawyer uses notes for an opening??? Ever??? So it's basically bullshit that I'll have to work on getting down over the next few days which is annoying, but oh well. Writing it wasn't too difficult, just banged out a few paragraphs and we're good. Then I had to deal with the field observation paper I have to give a presentation on tomorrow in my mission based lawyering class, which I was low key dreading, until I actually looked at the assignment and realized it was just supposed to be a summary of our field observation, not like a "reflection" or something similar that would require substantial bullshitting on my part. Just summarizing my day? Oh, I can do that very well, I do it every night on here for these posts. And of course I took copious notes on the cases, which helped immensely. So I started typing it out and within an hour I had 4 and a half pages (the range was 3-5) ready to go that I was quite happy with, so I'm glad that is done. Lastly there's crim pro, which probably wasn't totally necessary to do because we're backed up on cases and may not even get to these cases this week, but it was only 20 pages so I figured I'd just get it done. Two cases, easy enough. I finished just at 8, which was of course my goal, because I'm actually so good at meeting deadlines like that lol. During this time I was also running back and forth to do laundry, which was super overdue and I ended up doing 3 full loads, haha. The weird part was that when I got down there there was a solid two inches of water just chilling in the bottom of the washer and not appearing to be going anywhere. I didn't want to stick my clothes in there if it was having a problem, so I texted my landlord and he said that happens sometimes when people overload it, but if I run a load on empty it should work again. So that's what I did ($2 in my precious laundry quarters down the drain, not that I'm actually annoyed enough to make an issue of it though) and it was back to normal afterwards so I was able to start and was happy to get that done, especially because the end of this week is the start of spring break and I'll need clean clothes to pack, so it was really a necessity to get it done. For the evening I first tried to find the episode of Powerless my dvr supposedly didn't record, only to find it apparently just doesn't exist yet (thanks for nothing, IMDb) so I moved on to Suits which I watched the rest of the season of. I have to say I'm much more satisfied with the ending of this season than I was last season, so I'll give them credit there. I think it helped that they were a lot more focused on actual cases instead of inter-firm drama and personal agendas, even if those cases were brought in relation to personal agendas. I have to say though, they do so much sketchy shit there's no way they would've have been caught so many times over and so screwed over. And I'm sorry, there is zero chance of Mike ever getting admitted to the bar in reality. Like, ZERO CHANCE. Are you fucking kidding me??? That's ridiculous. I am mostly willing to overlook it though because I'm interested in seeing Mike as a lawyer lol so I can forgive their ridiculousness. The ending with Louis was sad of course, but it was still a much better and a much more joyful season finale than last season so I appreciate that. And JESSICA. YAAAS. Only Jessica Pearson could manage to appeal to compassion and blackmail someone at the same fucking time. She is legit like, lawyer goals and I don't even care if that's sketchy lol she is a boss. And of course it was hysterical when she was like "yeah let New York disbar me, they won't give a fuck in Chicago" for obvious reasons. So overall I was pleased with my watching and catching up, especially since I'd lost a good amount of faith in the show at this point, some of which was restored here. And yeah, that about sums up my day. Get to sleep in tomorrow thanks to yet another weird Chicago holiday that closes the courts and gets me the day off (I swear I'm never going to actually make it to the DV clinic at this point, but I'm not complaining about the extra time). It's like Casamir Polaski day I think? I don't know, some crazy made up Chicago holiday but hey, like I said, no complaints here. Still have class at night with presentations, but that should be easier enough and at least I get to sleep in, which is the important part really, and speaking of sleep that's what I'm going to do now. Goodnight angels. Stay beautiful.