#i should be allowed to come to your house and throttle you but that is an opinion better suited for a 2 note unrebloggable post on my main

[bizarrebazaar13]

re: that last reblog, Fires would be one of those drivers who speed up when they see yellow lights + don’t signal when they switch lanes or turn right on red. sorry.

[barracks-bunni]

Sunday Snoozes {S.G.R.}

Franchise: Call of Duty (MW II & III)

Character: Simon Riley x Reader

Genre: Fluff

A/N: Hey! So I am suuuperrr nervous to be posting this. I haven’t actually written properly in about 4 years, and I very suddenly got the urge to write this while sitting in my garden this morning. I’m very sorry if it sucks, I’m super duper rusty ): It’s just a soft little drabble, hope you guys enjoy! (: ((oh, p.s. hi, my name’s Bunni 🩷))

~^*^~

It’s 9:42am precisely on a late August morning. The curtains are half drawn in your shared bedroom, the warm morning sun pooling through the gaps and leaving puddles of ecru on the carpet below.

As autumn steadily approaches, the heat of summer had begun to die off and you’re back in skimpy pyjamas as opposed to the weeks of sleeping in your birthday suit. Simon was not overly-joyed the first night you slipped into bed in some teeny tiny shorts and a vest top. But, despite the cooling temperatures, the window remained open through the night to allow the fresh air in.

With it being a Sunday, the roads are a little quieter than usual. Your house is situated just a row in from the main road of the village, meaning you’d still hear the cars, lorries and other vehicles coming through at all hours. The row of trees lining the main road rustle in the warm breeze and the sound carries through to you. With the warmer weather also comes bikers and as the morning kicks into gear, there are a few revs of engines and whines of throttles as people go for morning joyrides.

The duvet around you is warm - tugged up to your shoulder with one of your legs hanging out and your ankle hanging off the edge of the bed. Behind you, a steady wall of scarred muscle and a strong arm snaked around the dip of your waist. Simon’s breathing is steady behind you. His gentle exhales hit the nape of your neck through your hair and send a shiver down your spine with every one. He is just in a pair of pyjama bottoms, chest exposed as he often gets a little too hot in the bed anyways. Sleeping alone in a tiny military bunk for years will really have you needing to reacclimatise to what should be normalities.

You are both awake; that much you are certain of. But neither had mumbled a good morning or anything of the such. It is too nice to just lay quietly listening to the rustle of the leaves and the moving traffic outside. Sometimes the road goes quiet for a little time. In those moments, it’s easier to focus on Simon behind you and his breaths.

Finally, the position gets the better of you and you have to stretch - arching your back and twisting your torso until you feel the vertebrae click and crack. The movement brings a soft little grunt, eyes fluttering shut once more for a moment. Simon says nothing, but as you settle back into the mattress, he presses a gentle kiss to your exposed shoulder. You exhale contently at the feeling. Your body practically melts into him.

“There she is.” His voice is gruff, hears from being his first words of the day. You feel the words rumble through his chest and into your back.

Maybe he hadn’t realised you were awake after all.

“Hi.” Your voice is soft and quiet, a true juxtaposition to the Lieutenant

“Hi, baby.” He presses another kiss to your shoulder before tugging you ever closer.

His chest is so warm, and you can feel the scars and burn marks that run all the way down his right-hand side. They’d never bothered you. Not really, anyway. He’d always be Simon under all the physical reminders of his hardships. When you’d first started dating, he made a habit of covering them up as much as possible. You’d been patient with him, and slowly but surely, he started wearing less and less until he was comfortable roaming the house shirtless. Win-win.

The birds are chirping, an orchestra of mostly pigeons, magpies, blackbirds and sparrows. The soundtrack of the countryside. From the gap in the curtains, you can make out the vibrant blue of the morning sky. There’s a cloud or two sometimes breezing past, but it’s almost completely aquamarine.

In the distance, the sound of church bells begin to ring out. The church is situated on the other side of the village, but it’s a small village so the bells are loud and clear.

Simon hums quietly behind you, snuggling into the crook of your neck.

Your hands move to gently grasp his forearm and you exhale softly again. Being in his arms always feels so good. Especially on lazy mornings like this.

“Someone’s tying the knot early.” Simon grunts.

“Isn’t it just for mass?” Your voice shoots back the question quietly. Simon hums at it.

“Maybe.”

He presses yet another kiss to your skin, this time on your neck where his head is buried and you shiver at the contact. He likes the response, kissing softly again.

“Be us one day,” Simon says quietly, “up an’ early.”

You feel a soft smile break onto your lips and do nothing to hide it. He’s so warm and comfortable behind you. It would be so easy to melt into him forever and ever.

The birds chirp with the bells and somewhere in the distance, a lawnmower kicks into action. You know you should probably get up, maybe make some breakfast. But you don’t want to leave Simon’s arms. And he has no intention of letting you leave either, as he pulls you ever closer.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, piss off the whole village with the bells while we tie the knot at soon as the church opens.”

[lemonflavouredchaos]

Cherry Pie

You're lonely while baby-sitting your brothers' kids and call your best friend for some backup... of course, things go a little sideways when the kids go to sleep.

AKA I'm now on an Eddie kick and no one can stop me; some needy, cunt drunk, gentle switch Eddie for you guys.

If there's one thing you know about Eddie Munson, it's that he's great with kids. Calling him in to make baby sitting duties easier wasn't quite what you had in mind this Saturday, but any time with him is time well spent. He comes into the house like a hurricane and within five minutes he's embroiled in some complex game which seems to revolve around him chasing Piper and David while they compete to see who can scream the loudest.

The neighbours will be pissed, but at least you finally have time to make the mac and cheese they've been begging for all afternoon. As you drop a handful of sharp cheddar into the pot, Eddie skids into the kitchen, red-faced and panting,

"We need juice," he says, and you laugh,

"Fridge, Eds, they're not allowed coke or cream soda before dinner, give them orange juice or water... or milk. Whatever they want," you say, "and there's beer for you, too."

"Well alright," he says with a grin, but you feel him turn as he passes you and when you look over your shoulder he's standing by the refrigerator with a strange smile on his face,

"What?" You frown,

"Nothin' Princess," he says, but there's a flush on his cheeks still, "don't see you wearing a dress that often is all. Looks good, it new?" His eyes flick down and you feel a flash of heat go through you. You turn to the steaming pot and start to stir again - damn him, why is he so... delicious?

"No, well, kinda," you say, "I bought it a while ago but it's the first time I've worn it. It was so hot out today." It's true, and a total lie; you were wearing an older, less flattering dress before you called him. You changed into this, not sure why you were doing it, after Piper spilt paint on you.

It's so not you; light and fluffy and skimming the middle of your thighs. Buttery yellow with spaghetti straps. You're starting to realize you wore it for him, and that's a mortifying thought you can't settle with. He's not interested Y/N, if he was, he would have said something by now. Get a grip, girl.

A cold, condensation-beaded bottle of beer thumps onto the counter beside you and his broad hand rests next to it. You can feel the heat of his body behind you, hear him take a swig, smell the sharp aftershave and chemical soap and cheap shampoo he uses,

"Seems a little... fancy for babysitting," he says, voice low and heavy,

"I was... wearing an older one," you say, "Piper spilt paint on me."

"Shame," he says, "but this is a nice dress. You should wear it more."

"I might," you say and your voice is a low, shivering whisper. Piper runs into the room,

"Come play Eddie," she stamps her tiny feet,

"On my way," he says and hands her a cup, "here's your juice." For a second you'd love to throttle her. Jealous of a six-year-old, fuck I'm pathetic.

"Mac and cheese in ten," you call after them and he turns to look at you, his eyes dropping to your chest for a second, then he blushes and nods,

"Ten minutes, yes ma'am," he repeats with a mock salute and disappears. The screaming starts again; all you can do is pray you don't hear a crash any time soon.

      They eat like they've never been fed before; all elbows and lowered heads, and Eddie widens his eyes at you, smirking before he takes a bite and theatrically rolls his eyes,

"You're right David," he says, "Auntie Y/N makes the best mac and cheese. What's in this?"

"Oh, you know," you say, "cheese, milk, butter," you shoot the kids a glance and mouth, "mustard." He raises his brows,

"Really?"

"Mmmhm," you say and he winks, reaching over to ruffle David's hair. The gesture almost makes you melt. Is it bad, you find yourself wondering, to picture him as a father? It seems weird; neither of you is twenty yet, and he's still trying to get out of high school... but he would be a great dad. You can feel it. Hell, you can see it.

And that makes you... well, feel things.

They protest being sent to bed and wheedle an extra long bath to compensate for going to bed at the same time they do every night. You can't say no, though; they're too cute, and when you come back out into the living room he's lounging on the sofa watching TV,

"All sleeping?" He asks with a smile,

"I think so," you sigh and flop down next to him, smoothing your dress self-consciously, "thank you, Eds, they were too much for me today."

"Hey it's all good," he says, "they're good kids. "

"They are," you sigh and press your head to his shoulder, felling him stiffen a little, "tell me you brought weed?"

"Of course," he snorts, "outside?"

"Yeah."

      It's not hot anymore; it's not even warm. The cold night air kisses your bare legs and makes you shiver as you take a drag, and he drapes his heavy jacket over your shoulders,

"Thanks," it's hard to think of anything else to say; the smell of him on the fabric is dizzying,

"You're welcome, Princess," he sighs and leans back against the wall. "So I take it they're staying here tonight?"

"Yeah, Mom and Stan are in Portland for their honeymoon, Jade and Chris have gone down to Ohio for a wedding. They're here till Monday." You shudder. "It's gonna be a long weekend."

"You want me to head off and let you sleep?" He takes the joint from you and draws in smoke,

"No!" You say it a little too loudly maybe because he narrows one eye and smirks at you, "no, Eds, please I haven't talked to anyone over the age of six since Friday morning." He snorts and nods,

"Ok, well, I have time," he holds out his hand, letting you take the joint carefully, "I can come back over tomorrow and help if you want?" You nod,

"That would be great, as long as you don't mind?"

"Sounds like a good day to me," he says, "we can hop in the van and go out to the lake if you want?" And just like that it feels a little too intimate. Like they're your kids. Like they're his. You shake your head and then shrug,

"Uh, maybe, let's see how the weather is, radio says it might rain." The sudden cold in the night backs that up; it's like you can feel the thunderclouds rolling in as he takes the mostly gone joint from you from you and stares up at the sky,

"Halfsies?" He nods to it and you smile,

"Sure," you say, but he doesn't move,

"You look really good in that dress," he says suddenly, and there's no hint of teasing in his eyes now.

"Thank you," hot, blushing, unable to raise your voice, you almost whisper those words, feeling tiny and strangely exposed in his oversized jacket,

“I mean it,” he shifts so he’s facing you, “shame you don’t wear it more often.” Then he narrows his eyes and raises his hand to his face, hesitating as your eyes fix on his thick fingers and the chunky rings that they always hold, “sure you only wore it because of a wardrobe malfunction?” He asks suddenly, and though his voice is steady there’s a hint of anxiety on his face, take the plunge. This is it. 

“No,” you say, “I wore it because I wanted you to see it.” He nods and looks down, then draws the last of the smoke into his lungs, before reaching out to pull you forward. Inches from your face, he blows the smoke gently into your mouth, and the rush you get breathing it in has little to do with the weed. 

     He takes a low, slow breath when you break apart, rubbing his nose against yours before he grins and whispers, 

His hand slips under the heavy jacket, slides across the fine material of your dress, and pulls you against him just before your lips touch. Just like that, he’s not your best friend anymore... or at least he’s not just your best friend. 

“I’ve wanted to do that for so fuckin’ long,”

“Why’d you wait till now?” You whisper back, 

“I would have waited longer...” he said, “but I nearly had a nosebleed when I saw that dress.” You snigger and shake your head, try to step back, but he drags you forward again and buries his face in your neck, “I swear to God, Y/N, you better wear this again... not... for other guys though.”

“No?” You ask, and there’s a giddy smile spreading across your face, 

“Absolutely not,” he almost growls, 

“So when can I who should I wear it for then?” You ask though you know what he’s going to say, 

“Me,” he murmurs, and drags your hips closer, stealing any reply you might have had when he presses himself against you and it becomes clear just how interested he is. Maybe it's the giddy exhilaration, maybe it’s the weed... or maybe it's just him, but you know you’re about to make a bad decision when you take his hand and drag him inside, pulling him to your brothers' bedroom, hushing him as you close the door. 

All that bravado, all that presence melts away when you push him back onto the bed; he just stares up at you with those big doe eyes and lets you climb onto his lap. He’s so passive, so still that you feel a moment of panic, 

“You... do you want to...?” You ask, blood chilling until he nods eagerly and he tugs your hips, 

“Abso-fucking-lutely,” Eddie mutters, but he still doesn’t take over. Not like the other guys, well the other guy, you dated; he pushed and tugged and manhandled you... and it was fine. But the way Eddie lies back and stares at you as if waiting to be told what to do... it makes you feel itchy and needy and hot. 

“Take your shirt off?” You ask tentatively and he almost tangles himself up in the material in his eagerness to comply, leaving you giggling, God he’s so perfect, as you trace the lines of his tattoos with shaking fingers, “you’re so beautiful,” you whisper and he blushes. 

“That’s my line, Princess,” he mutters, pushing his hands up your thighs, all the way under your dress to toy with the lace of your panties. There’s something new about him, something vulnerable and tender and so achingly soft that it almost makes you want to cry... but there’s something else under that feeling. You want to sink your teeth into him, just devour him. He strokes your legs, shifts his hips, but doesn’t try for anything else, even when you kiss him. Even when the kiss goes on and on and on until your head is light and he’s whimpering and gasping,

“Shh,” you murmur and cover his mouth; his eyes flutter shut and suddenly you get it. “You gonna be a good boy for me Eds, hm?”  He nods. “You gonna be quiet while I ride you.” He whimpers into your hand but nods nonetheless, so you lean down and take your hand away. “If you make a sound,” you whisper, watching emotions flit across those big, dark eyes, “I���ll stop, and you’ll have to wait until next weekend to get what you want, ok?”

“Y-yeah,” he whispers back and you can feel him shaking under you, big bad Eddie, shaking like a puppy... why does this feel so right?

“You sure you want this?” The question is genuine, but he gives you a look of such stupified contempt that you have to stifle a giggle. 

“Then shut up and stop squirming,” you murmur, running your tongue across the shell of his ear, “keep your hands to yourself, and do as you’re told, ok?”

“No,” he draws it out rolling his eyes, “I’m terrified, all five-foot jack shit of you is so much that I couldn’t leave if I wanted to - ofcourseifuckingwantthis.” He whispers the last part so urgently that it almost sounds like a shout. 

“You’re a little freak,” he whispers, but he’s grinning, 

“You know where the door is Munson.”

“Wild horses couldn’t get me out of here,” he lies back and lets his arms fall back beside his head, “not a peep.”

“We’ll see.”

The heavy belt buckle takes a little more work than you had thought, but his jeans slide down easily once it's undone. He’s hard, almost painfully so, and there’s a wet patch on the front of his boxers; you raise your eyebrows at him, and he flushes, looking away. There’s a shiver of apprehension; he’s big, maybe not huge, but bigger than your one and only boyfriend... and when you pull down his boxers his cock twitches. His eyes are closed, breaths coming in slow, measured waves until you run your tongue across the velvety skin at his hip. 

The little hitch is like music; you chase it, nipping and sucking the skin on his belly and hips until he’s twitching and letting out soft, desperate huffs. When you run your tongue along his length he makes a stifled, strangled grunting sound, but stays still, just like he promised. 

His cock twitches in your hand as you line him up with your entrance, and when you sink onto him, taking every inch so slowly that it makes you dizzy, his eyes roll back and his mouth moves. 

“Please, please, please,” he’s whispering over and over again like a prayer, but when you shush him he clamps his mouth shut, 

“Good boy,” you murmur and run your hand down his chest to the start of the fine, dark hair between his legs, feeling him twitch in you when you utter those two simple words. “Look how good you look in me,” you whisper, not quite believing that the filth is coming from your mouth; when his eyes open they’re hazy; he’s wrecked, holding on by a thread, and the sight of his cock sliding in and out of you almost destroys him; Eddie jams one knuckle into his mouth and bites, a strange, growling sound exiting his throat. Still, he does exactly what you told him, and the feeling of power mixed with the desperate need that’s been building in your belly becomes so heady you think you might break too. 

And that’s how it goes; slow, almost silent, both of you trying to make no sound until you’re shaking and you slump over him. It’s only then that he takes over, rolling the two of you, pulling you down onto the floor on the side of the bed farthest from the door, tugging the neck of your dress down as he murmurs nonsense words and phrases that jumble together in the hot, slick spaces between you, 

“so fucking wet for me - should’ve done this months ago- fuck, that’s my girl, -”

Eddie goes on and on and on until you can barely think, and then it’s his turn to cover your mouth, growling in your ear as he rolls into your, slow and hard, the sheer weight and bulk of him making your hips ache and your body shake while he worms one hand between you to toy with your aching clit. When you cum it rolls over you like a thunderstorm, muted by the way you focus on keeping silent, wrapping your legs tight around him, so tight that he has to force them open to pull away before he fills you. Then it’s just the silence of the house, the muted sound of the TV still playing in the living room, dogs barking in the distance. 

“Fuck me,” he pants, half whispering, “where the fuck did that come from, Princess?”

“I dunno,” the words are dreamy and soft; he kisses your forehead and helps you up, putting you back together before you step out into the hallway, quietly makes his way to the living room before you peek into Piper and David’s room on the other side of the bathroom. They’re sleeping peacefully. 

Everything is exactly as it should be... except he has to go. That’s the part that sticks in your throat, even though he peppers you with kisses and soft words and promises; it feels wrong for him to go, now. 

But he’ll be back tomorrow.

[jellydishes]

The gulls screamed like little children over the heights of the old house. The sounds pounded in the way of waves of a far distant ocean, wearing on her day after day after day. One day, she dropped her mouth open and screamed with them. She screamed until her voice withered away to the croak of a raven she had seen once in a museum, stuffed and posed with mouth agape just as hers was... or so she imagined, having never heard it in life.

In the end her voice left her, too, and all that was left was the tireless shrieking laughter of the gulls.

If this had been one of her husband's tawdry horror novels, the house should have stood shuttered and gaping, yawning open for hungered souls. Instead it was bright and airy and full of blue fabric that may have been snipped from a cloudless sky.

She washed those pretty curtains once or twice a week, depending, straining out the muddy brown water until it ran clear. Sometimes there were blots that could almost be confused as being black or red at their core, and she muttered to herself as she scrubbed at the stubborn, relentlessly returning spots.

Within the house, there were corners that took her by surprise when she was unwary, angles that made her jump at the thought that someone she knew awaited her there. Her husband had built the little house into a middling house into a sprawling effigy of stability. Looking at it made one want to lean one way or the other to fix it properly in your mind's eye. The crowded hallways always seemed to bend towards her in such a way that she tried to hurry through them.

It always ended at his portrait.

Sometimes, she almost stumbled to a halt at the sight of his face. Today, she reared back, frozen in place as if she'd been cast in oils beside him.

"I hate you." The words clung to her tongue, unsaid. It would be so simple to say them, but even attempting to gasp them out felt like she were being throttled, choked and left adrift in waters too cold to name.

"I miss you." This came out stronger, but even so it was still a whisper. She couldn't meet his painted eyes, and instead allowed her own to skitter from side to side as if they were two tiny beasts seeking shelter from his eagle-eyed gaze. She made to clutch at her upper arm, but let her hand fall before it was halfway there, turned and made her slow and solitary way through the house.

~~~

The cheerful blue decorations sat atop heavy, dismal disarray in the flimsiest attempt at convincing anyone who cared to look that there was nothing to the shapes beneath. That once they were swallowed by layered waves, anything they had once been would be gone, consumed.

She stared dully at the draped fabric where it lay ponderously heavy over the domed skulls her husband had made his fortune on, and felt nothing. Once, she would have snatched the cloth away with a wordless, inarticulate shriek that she always felt building and building within the cage of her ribs. Now, she allowed her eyes to drift away to the dark, featureless windows. She'd grown tired of what she hadn't seen outside, so she had closed and shuttered them.

There was scratching, of course, but you could grow used to anything if you gave it long enough, and she had her memories of showtunes and nursery rhymes to keep her company when the noises from outside grew too loud.

She hummed one to herself as she mounted the stairs to the old nursery come bedroom. It was brown again, a dusty, gritty color slathered in streaks where she had last tried to clean away filth. She knelt down with soap and water and took her time picking out grit from each of the deep scratches scored into the wood. Every now and again there was a harder, crescent shaped bit of garbage stuck inside, and she tossed them towards the trash backed in the corner without looking.

The time came when there was no more cleaning to do, and so she sat on her son's bed and looked through the open door at the old dumbwaiter, which her husband had expanded as he added floors. There were scratches there, too, but those were a part of the house, she reasoned. They had always been there, as much as the gulls and the ceaseless, pitiless press of noise on the other side of these walls. She could hear all of it now, if she chose to listen.

She did not.

It wasn't her business, any more than the epitaphs written on crumbling tombstones had been her husband's business.

Her business was this house all that lay within it. She knew that in the way that she knew that without a sin-eater to consume her failings upon her death, she would never leave these raggedy corners. It was a calm and simple truth, and it kept her moving in the way that the noises alone may have made her hesitate unto death. She had to keep moving, keep cleaning, keep the house clear of any who sought to invade it.

Her next circuit took her to the basement. This chore took the longest, but she didn't avoid it anymore. After all this time, it had simply become one more task to do in an endlessly expanding list.

There were no blue drapes down here, save where she'd laid some across an expanse of teeth that first night in a vague attempt at offering dignity where there was none to be found. It had turned brown, too, sunken into the crevices of that first invader. He still moved from time to time, but she knew by now that there was no reasoning with him, no help to be given that wouldn't be wasted.

So she ignored the piteous gusts of noise from one throat and simply set her jaw, grabbed their ankles, and dragged them into a pit her husband had dug long before.

That first invader groaned a word, a familiar one that gave her pause. She lowered his feet to the dirt floor and walked up to where the brown paisley pattern fluttered in and out in time with his lies. "You aren't him," she said gently, and even patted his shoulder even though it was a wasted gesture. "My son is dead. He knew better than to leave this house. Whoever you used to be, take that name with you when you go."

He wheezed that word again, but by then she had resumed dragging his filth into the pit.

Her husband had always said words at this point, but she had no more left in her after all of these years.

The bleach container was lighter than it had been last time, and the amonia is lighter still.

[harrison-abbott]

quirks of the head

My ex-wife called me up. Said that the boiler had broken back in the house and she was wondering whether I could come and help out. I was a joiner. So I knew how to fix such things. But I also hadn’t heard from Sarah in eight months. And we’d broken up a year earlier, and I was still butchered about it. You know when you despise somebody after they’d hurt you? There’s this inward, guttural sense of imagination where you fantasise about going back and killing them, throttling them and watching the panicky tears roll as they suffocate. That’s what I did with Sarah, anyway; maybe other people aren’t as dark.

I had a son, Nick, who lived with her. Back at the house. He was still in school and I used to take him to the football but this year he stopped coming to the games with me. I’d seen Nick a few times when we went to the cinema. I bought him popcorn and coke and the films we saw were these colossal spectacles about superheroes which I was bamboozled by. Nor was I sure whether Nick even liked them because he barely ate much of the popcorn and when I drove him home he said about ten words and didn’t make eye contact.

Nick wasn’t at home, the day Sarah asked me to come and mend the boiler. He was off on a trip with his girlfriend and their parents. I’d never actually met the girlfriend. Meh. So when I was driving back to the house where I’d lived for sixteen years, I knew it would only be Sarah and I, one-on-one for the first time in eight months. As I drove I thought about turning back. Get her to call another joiner. Why should I do it for free? But I kept going. And eventually I was turning into the neighbourhood where I once thought I would raise a life-long family. 

I parked outside of the house. And walked up to the front door with my tools and I knocked on it and this was odd because it was the only time I had ever knocked on my front door.

Sarah opened it and when I saw her this great vacuum of sadness and relief exhausted me.

“Hello,” she said.

“Hi there,��� I responded.

There was no hug or kiss or anything other than her moving away from the doorframe and allow me to come in and shut the door behind me and then she went into the kitchen and I followed her and then she asked me if I'd like a cup of tea and I said no even though I wanted one and then I asked her what the problem with the boiler was. She said she didn't know. So I don't know why I queried, knowing she wouldn’t no. The difficulty with the machine was fairly simple. I’d seen it hundreds of times throughout my lame career and I felt bad about charging people money to fix a simple thing.

Sarah hovered in the background. It’s quite an odd feeling, isn’t it: having somebody you have powerful emotions for watch you? Even if you aren’t camera shy (which I’m not; I can grin in photos just like most goofy folks) it can make you fidget and disturb your emotion when somebody’s watching you. And I was wondering what was going through her head as I was fiddling with the boiler and neither of us had said anything for ten minutes. And then she said,

“Sure you don’t want a cup of tea?”

“No thanks,” I said.

She said okay and then she went and sat in the living room at the far end of the house.

Leaving me alone with the boiler. I got it turned back on again. And tested it at the wall; and the woosh and tremble of the machine restarted. A delight flew through me. Even though I’d restored boilers so many times I had done it again and I was no famous man or talented man or likeable man and my family life was in tatters, I had fixed something once more.

I put my tools back into my bag.

Sarah was still in the living room. I arrived in the doorway and she twitched when she saw me and I found it hard to look at her. She was as old as I was. We were the same age; but I’d aged worse then here; I had my belly and greasy grey hair and I seemed to have shrunk, somehow, a good deal; and when I looked at her, now, she still had these attributes when we were kids, the same hint of yellow hair and that dainty nose. Those little quirks of the head – the way she moved her skull – that I used to adore. And they made me ashamed of all the beer in my stomach from last night and so I hung back a little in the frame so she wouldn’t notice the fat contours.

“That’s the boiler up and working again,” I said to her.

She began to get up.

“Don’t get up, Sarah, it’s fine. It’s all up and running once more.”

“Thanks Hon,” she said.

The blood had quickened in my arms and all across my body. It’s quite hard to express love when you don’t know the person the narrator’s talking about or you’ve never seen them.

I didn’t want her or Nick to be cold. And was glad that I’d helped them out with that.

Sarah got up from the sofa as I was heading to the front door and I opened it and went out into the rushing afternoon air. She said she was really grateful for me coming over and her words were like being battered with a hammer, just to hear them again, they were prettily blunt and bashing.

And I still could not look at her; the image was too agonising. So I said it was no problem and I was all happy to help.

I got into my car and drove away. And felt less cold, after my helpful deed, in the present age.  

[thelonesgroup]

Are You Buying Real Estate Leads?

I get it. It has been a tough couple of years for real estate agents. Transactions are down, which has impacted most real estate agents.

But what I hate to see during this time is agents abandoning their lead generation strategies because they aren't getting the results they want. They are blaming the lead generation method when the real culprit is currently the real estate market.

If a lead generation method has otherwise been proven - because it has worked for others, worked in that market, and should very well work again when transactions tick up, then why abandon the ship completely? It is a perfectly good ship, but it just isn't going to get you where you need to go right now. You might need to employ something smaller and more-agile for the current market, but keep that tried-and-true ship around. Make sure you continue to work it, maintain it, and make sure it's ready to set sail. The WORST thing you could do is take that lead generation ship out of service because it is that much harder to get it back in the water and start it up again when the market turns. And then you will have lost all that great momentum and miss that critical moment in the market!

If your lead generation does need a boost, what I recommend is running what I call a Faucet Campaign on top of your Ongoing Lead Generation Campaign (such as geographic farming, open houses, etc). Think of it like a more-agile dinghy that can run in and out of harbors easily, but you wouldn't take it out into rough open water - you need your lead generation ship for that.

Here are three dinghy-worthy faucet campaigns that I would recommend depending on the market in an agent's area (looking at both the availability of that lead generation target and what is allowed):

Marketability Analysis

A Twist on Expired Listings

If sellers tried to sell last year when interest rates were at 7.79%, the buying power that today's buyers have in comparison may make the seller's "want" price within range. I would be reaching out to expired listings, offering a Marketability Analysis - an analysis regarding why their listing likely didn't sell at the time. It might have been home conditions, marketing, photography, price, market timing, competition, or something else. Offering a Marketability Analysis in a letter rather than a typical "are you ready to sell" postcard will help you stand out.

Smart Tip: We have a whole suite of tools to market to expired listings and can customize a campaign for you - have one touchpoint or 12! SCHEDULE A MEETING

Open House Props

Open House at Full Throttle

Even if you don't have a listing to hold open and need to hold someone else's listing open, you can take your open house game to the next level which is going to impress both buyers and potential neighborhood sellers. Here is your game plan:

Several days before your open house: Send a letter to the neighborhood announcing the open house, indicate there will be additional traffic and that you are putting out signage, and invite the neighbors to a special Neighbors Only open house time.

Put out ample signage: Add balloons if possible

Look for marketing opportunities: Really ramp up your marketing at the open house. Here are 9 items I would have at my open houses that got attention:

Open House Welcome Sign

Welcome Sign: Indicate they are welcome to come in, leave shoes on or take them off, etc.

Special Feature Cards: Also called "silent talkers." You can even include QR codes on some of them that link to specific models of appliances!

Home Book: Including information on property taxes, schools, maps, surveys, septic and well records if applicable, preliminary title report, historical photos, and more.

Flyers: Nice ones on good paper.

Feature Sheet: A longer list of all the home features, room by room.

QR Code Table Tents: Direct people to getting more digital information on the home.

Price Appreciation by Neighborhood Map: Show how homes in the open house's neighborhood have appreciated as compared with other local neighborhoods. You can show changes in median sales prices if appreciation rates are hard to come by.

Amenities Map: Show the home's proximity to things like parks, groceries, restaurants, schools, fire and police stations, and more.

Tour of Homes Book/Brochure: This is something you can give to buyers on the way out that shows other comparable listings in the area. Invite the buyer to drive by and if they want to learn more, you are available at a specific time to talk about those.

Smart Tip: Looking to take your open houses to the next level? Let's customize your open house toolbox. Setup a quick meeting with us to discuss it! LET'S TALK!

Smart Tip: My Denise Live webinar next week is going to be: Open Houses in the New Buyer Services Agreement Environment. I am going to be going over ideas and tips for working with buyers, so if you want to see the above in action, sign up for Club Zebra now and save your seat! GET STARTED

First Time Homebuyers Strategy

Renters to Homebuyers Campaign

Whoa!?! First-time homebuyers…in THIS market?!? YES!! In areas of the country that have a shortage of rentals, rental prices have been ticking up year after year. In some cases, this has been 5% or more for the last several years. As soon as interest rates come down a little more, I expect this market is going to pick up significantly. You want to be in the right place when that happens - with a nice batch of buyers who are ready to find a property.

There are a number of ways you can structure this campaign:

Mail campaign to apartments or non-owner-occupied properties

Social media campaign

Online content campaign

Offering information, ebooks, classes (live or online), one-on-one consultation, lender connections, and more

Smart Tip: My Denise Live webinar next week is going to be: Open Houses in the New Buyer Services Agreement Environment. I am going to be going over ideas and tips for working with buyers, so if you want to see the above in action, sign up for Club Zebra now and save your seat! GET STARTED

Final Words

I am seeing social media posts from agents about sources for buying online leads. But there are just as many posts about these methods not working, taking so much time, or building a false sense of confidence ("I have 20 new leads - something will definitely come from this!"). Remember, buying online leads makes some tech company rich. Instead, stand out with information and expertise. Conversion is easier!

Instead of investing in an online leads business to get you over this hump, build a robust faucet campaign that is the best fit for your business. We can help!

By Denise Lones CSP, CMP, M.I.R.M. The founding partner of The Lones Group, Denise Lones has over three decades of experience in the real estate industry. With agent/broker coaching, expertise in branding, lead generation, strategic marketing, business analysis, new home project planning, product development and more, Denise is nationally recognized as the source for all things real estate. With a passion for improvement, Denise has helped thousands of real estate agents, brokers, and managers build their business to unprecedented levels of success, while helping them maintain balance and quality of life.

[wardenred]

Angstober 2: Anxiety

A direct sequel for that first one, with a different POV.

“But it should be Norra, then, not I,” was the first thing Alita said when she heard her uncle’s proposal. It only made sense, didn’t it? Norra was three years older and already yearning for marriage, except she frowned at all the courtship opportunities their cluster of little villages offered. The odds here may be good, but the goods are odd, she kept saying, and even though she sometimes allowed one of the few upstanding young men to accompany her to a holiday market, she always returned from such outings with a frown. She dreamt of a different life, one of balls and splendor, the kind they had in the faraway, nebulous before.

Alita, meanwhile, was too young to remember most of it, and whatever hazy memories surfaced sometimes—usually when she was sick or in pain—she could never apply them to the person she was. She had no desire for balls, royal hunts, or leisurely salon mornings. A homebody by nature, she got overwhelmed even by the country fair after the first hour. Romance held no appeal to her, either. Whether it was because she was a late bloomer at seventeen or because it was merely not for her remained to be seen.

At any rate, she neither needed nor wanted the capital. The thought of her uncle going there was unsettling enough. Who would she play chess with? Who would teach her magic? Who would coax her out of the house for long walks down the river bank, pointing out birds and squirrels to each other? Still, she knew she couldn’t reasonably beg him to stay, not when the King himself had traveled all the way here to fetch him. But at least everything else would remain familiar once he left.

If she came with him, there would be no more comfort.

She opened her mouth to start explaining, but the look on her uncle’s face stopped her: urgent and high-strung, much like the turmoil bubbling behind her sternum.

“No,” he said gently. “I cannot take Norra. She would enjoy the capital a little too much, I should think; get ensnared by its joys and glitter. Under other circumstances, I wouldn’t wish anything less for her. But this is no pleasure trip, Alita. I won’t force you to come if you don’t want to, but I have to say this: I need you by my side. Because—” He leaned in, and Alita was struck by how pale his skin was. “I don’t trust the King.”

Alita’s eyes widened. Her stomach churned, and she hugged herself tight—for comfort as much as to conceal the trembling in her fingers. How could he say such a thing? The King was—he was everything to the country. He was the one who kept the Corruption at bay, who appeased the gods on the behalf of all people, who controlled the ebb and flow of magic under the great moons. No reason could feasibly exist to mistrust him.

Otherwise, they were all doomed.

Besides, a treacherous voice whispered at the back of her mind, in the unlikely event there’s any truth to this brash claim, wouldn’t it be kinder of Uncle Rythan to let me stay home?

Her uncle reached out to put a hand on her elbow. His fingers weren’t still, either. “I know I’m asking a lot of you, Alita. You don’t even have to decide right now. Dwell on it until morning, if you have to. I would of course prefer that you got some sleep instead, but...” His mouth quirked in a tiny lopsided smile, a sad smudge of mirth. “We are too alike, you and I, for me to seriously suggest it.”

Alita drew a long breath and counted to five before releasing it. “What would be required of me?” She could barely hear her own voice over the pounding in her ears.

“Be there. Listen. Watch. Share your thoughts with me, but only when we’re certain no one’s eavesdropping.” Uncle Rythan hesitated before adding, “And should I say so, ride home and help Norra assume permanent command of the estate as the new lady.”

Alita wished she could say she didn’t understand the implications. A thousand awful scenarios swirled in her head, each more catastrophic than the last. She tried to throttle them for now. Sleep indeed would be elusive tonight, anyway. She would get to untangle those terrors at night, with her diary, and that pretty green ink that smelled like peppermint, and probably calming tea.

But out of all the horrible futures she could envision, the one where her uncle ventured off alone looked the worst by far.

“I’ll go,” she said. A shiver ran up her spine, like an echo from his sigh of relief.

[notwaldenpond]

wendyskies​:

“he is working right now.” wendy said which both functioned as the truth, technically speaking, but did not say what she actually wanted, which was, of course, yes. a bit of a schrödinger’s answer, really. her eyes lingered on walden’s injured hands and frowned. “it better just stick to the trees, because if you ever lay hands like that on dam, I can turn you into a statue for all your little birds to shit on.” the barb was fast and pointed, because realistically, she knew that it was a rib between friends, but a part of her mind remained lingering on that earlier fear and the trauma which sprang to mind.

“now come on.” wendy turned around and gestured for him to follow her. “we should go inside to the bar.” she started to walk back toward the haunted house on the hill with both arms wrapped protectively around her torso. “I can fix them up, but we need to wash them off first so it does not get infected or anything.” she offered and then asked. “who is cissy?”

--

“If nothing’s on fire he’s probably not really working.” Walden said, glancing at the house. “Or at least he’s not in the zone unless something’s on fire.” His interest piqued at her threat and he relaxed fully. “A statue, could you really? Bloody brilliant. Could you turn me back to normal afterwards? Bet if you could turn me back to normal afterwards Antonin wouldn’t throttle me for trying it out.”

He followed her readily, falling in a few steps away so she could easily get out of his reach if she wanted. Walden wouldn’t hurt her, but he didn’t want to crowd her until she felt comfortable either. Not when she was so clearly sticking around. He didn’t doubt she was, either. Everything Dam said about her (wouldn’t shut up about her) finally formed into the complete person in his mind now. They fit together, his friend and this woman.

“Thank you. As cute as Antonin is when he fusses, I don’t actually enjoy worrying him. Cissy, Narcissa, she’s,” he paused for a moment to try and quantify what Narcissa meant to him, to all of them, “She’s easier to experience than she is to explain. She’s my oldest friend. Even before I knew fusspants up there,” Walden nodded towards the house, “I knew Cissy. I almost lost her earlier this year, and I nearly went mad. Losing Damocles… he’s not allowed to die on me. He’s just— he’s not.”

--

[thebackseatofjimsblazer]

Pairing: Hopper x F!Reader

Rating: E — MINORS!DNI

CW & WC: 3.6k — more alcohol but y’all ain’t drunk. SMUT! Oral (f and m receiving) unprotected p in v, multiple orgasms. You call hopper an old man to tease him and it works in your favor lmao. Dirty talk but like i think its kinda cute tbh. Oh yeah, and aftercare!

Summary: Jim takes to you back to his place and shows you what being with a MAN is like.

Part 1

The car ride to Jim’s trailer was short and silent. The only thoughts that monopolized your brain were how Jim’s arms felt when he helped you into his truck and how they looked when he drove. You couldn’t help but sneak glances at him from your spot, allowing yourself to drink up the way his thigh flexed when he switched between the brake and the throttle. Minuscule movements on his part seemed more intoxicating than your rum and coke from earlier. When Jim had opened the door to his trailer for you to enter before him, you remembered how you were supposed to give Robin a ring.

“Can I use your landline to call my roommate? I don’t want her to worry about me,” You look at Jim, awaiting a response. He simply nods to the phone on a wall close to the kitchen area. Giving a smile to him, you walk over and punch in the numbers.

“Hey Rob, I’m safe and at a guy’s house. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” You say in a hushed tone, not wanting Jim to hear the last part. You couldn’t spot him from where you were standing, he had disappeared into the back of the trailer where you presumed his room was at. Robin lets out a breathy chuckle before responding. 

“Go get ‘em, tiger.”

With that, you put the phone back on the receiver and turned to take in your surroundings. It wasn’t much of a shower; wood paneling on the walls and plain furniture filled the dining area and the living room from what you saw. It smelled of old, burnt coffee and cigarettes. For one reason or another, it made sense for Jim. Speaking of, you could hear his footsteps coming out from the room he was in. 

“So,” he claps his hands before continuing, “What d’ya say I pour us another drink and we get back to our conversation?” He sauntered his way into the kitchen, rubbing his hands together. Smiling and nodding in approval, you sit at the table as he grabs some glasses.

Some time goes on and the conversation becomes lively, the both of you laughing until gasping as you recall a past experience to him.

“I seriously thought he would get better or- or at least try to get to know my body better after the first couple of times,” You shook your head, trying to calm your laughter before continuing your rant, “But he never did! Never once did he ask me what got me off. Just shit like ‘Ah yeah, you like that baby?’. I should have ripped the bandaid off a long time ago.” You said, mocking Jason’s voice as Jim laughed. 

“So what do you like?” He finally asks, getting to the point of actually picking up where you two had left off. Your breath caught in your throat; Jim’s gaze honed in on your eyes. You pondered for a few seconds about where to start.

“I think I just want someone who isn’t afraid to be romantic… caring and soft at points but definitely strong and passionate,” You look down at your glass and bite your lip, thinking about how strong Jim’s hands had looked when he was protecting you from Jason. “I know I want a partner that is patient with learning my body. At least enough to know I won’t cum from less than ten minutes of jack hammering and hip spasms,” you finish off with a chuckle and a roll of your eyes. You look back to Jim and see that he’s still looking into your eyes, except now he had something darker behind his. 

“Would you be willing to let me try?” He asks, but before you could answer, he’s interrupting you, “And before you answer, just give it a thought. I want to explore every part of your beautiful body, explore every dip and curve you have even if you never want to do it again… even if it's just for tonight. Hell, if you don’t want to do it at all, I’ll drive you home right now with no hesitation and no animosity towards you. I know I’m older, but Goddammit, I want this and I really think you want this too,” 

He reaches out and grabs your hand from the table, “If I read into it wrong, then tell me. But I have a feeling that you liked it when I pushed Jason away from you… and I know you liked our little conversation when we were leaving the bar,” he smirked at the memory. You weren’t aware of this, but Jim loved the way your skin erupted in goosebumps when he had stepped in closer to your proximity outside the bar. He wanted to do that to you again tonight. 

Your brain frizzled and frazzled at his words; your mind immediately running to how his strong body could cage you in his bed. Heat rushed from your neck to the tips of your ears. You nod your head, “You’re pretty spot on.”

“I know, I am sweetheart… but this is all up to you,” his thumb ran circles over the top of your hand. It felt encouraging and comforting, letting you relax fully. 

“Well then, if its all up to me, I’d really,” You say, getting up from your seat to walk over to the side of the table that Jim was sitting at. Leaning down so that your lips brushed the shell of his ear, you continued in a whisper, “like for you to have me.” 

Jim quickly stood up from his seat, the legs of the chair making a screeching sound against the floor. Looking down at you, Jim finally let go of your hand to slip them around your face. 

“If I do anything, and I mean anything, that you don’t like… I want you to speak up. Too slow? Tell me. Not slow enough? Tell me. You got it, doll?” He asks, punctuating his final question by slightly shaking your head. You nod, lost at how domineering he felt in the moment. You always knew that people could be dominant, but never knew that they could feel soft at the same time. 

Jim lent down slowly and took your lips in his hesitantly, waiting for you to respond more to his touches before he gave more to you. Within seconds, one of your hands met the top of one of his and your other was gripping his shirt. Humming into his kiss, you began to kiss back with passion. He tasted like whiskey and his mustache scratched at your upper lip, but you soon found it to be more enjoyable than you had anticipated. 

“Your mustache,” you moaned against his lips, gripping his shirt harder.

Jim withdrew from you momentarily with a worried look on his face, “You hate it, don’t you?” He asks solemnly. “I can go sha-“

“No! I love it,” you say, pulling him back to kiss him with fervor. Jim grabs you by your hips and pushes you so that you were pinned between him and his kitchen counters. His lips found a new area to explore, trailing from your jaw down to your neck, making you whimper lightly into his ear.

Placing open mouthed up your neck to your ear, he whispered, “If you like how it feels now, just wait until it's between your thighs.”

A new wave of heat rushed to your core at the prospect of Jim’s face between your legs, making a sopping mess of your sweet cunt. His strong calloused hands had begun to pull you away from the kitchen counter and began to herd you to the direction of his room, yet his expert lips never stopped littering your neck with kisses. Pushing you until the back of your legs hit the edge of his bed, Jim physically directed you to sit. 

“Let me see you, baby,” he said as he used his strong hands to pry your legs apart. A gruff moan escaped his chest when he saw your pastel purple panties, almost becoming drunk from just looking at you. He leant down and began kissing you over your panties, rolling his eyes at your scent. “Absolutely heavenly…” 

You moan his name, letting your head roll back as he kisses your clothed clit. You could feel the edges of his mustache tickle your thighs as you began to buck onto his mouth. “Please Jim, I- ah- I need your mouth.” You grip the bed sheets with all of your strength, growing impatient with Jim. You’ve never wanted someone so bad in your life. Slowly, without any words, Jim began to pull your panties down your legs. Your glistening cunt was on display for him as he ran a finger up from your hole to your clit, dragging your wetness up with it. 

“Has anyone eaten you out before?” He asks, looking up at you from his seat on the floor. You nod your head quickly, wanting him to get on with it. “And were they any good?” You then shake your head no, being truthful with him. Using two fingers to collect your wetness, he asks you another question, “What did they do that wasn’t good?”

“They weren’t,” you go to answer him, but you couldn’t help but let out a moan when he ran his two fingers over your clit with ample pressure. Your eyebrows knit together in pleasure as he slowly, but firmly, swiped his fingers side to side on your nub. 

“Come on, doll. How am I supposed to know what makes you feel good if you can’t answer my question?” He teases, slowing down his movements so that you can refocus. You watch as he brings his fingers from your pussy to his mouth, licking up your juices.

You let out a huff before finishing your answer, “They weren’t into it.” You bite your lip as you wait for Jim to respond.

“That’s what distinguishes boys and men, darling. Because if I’m going to be honest with you,” he says, giving your cunt a testing lick, “I’m going to absolutely devour you.” And with that, Jim lent his head down all the way until his whole mouth was able to surround your pussy. His tongue darted between your lips to push into your hole, then dragged up to your clit. 

Immediately, your body fell back and your hands found purchase in Jim’s hair. Shocks of pleasure shoot through your legs, threatening to clamp themselves around his head. Each lap his tongue makes around your clit draws a moan from your lips, “Fuck, Jim- ah- you feel so good.”

You quickly sit up to protest when you feel him remove his mouth, but he cuts in before you can. “Get up and take off that dress. I want you bare.” Jim also stands with you and begins to remove his own clothes. Once both of your clothes are thrown to different corners, he grabs you by the hips and directs you to kneel in the middle of the bed.

Your patience begins to wear thin again, not understanding what it is Jim is trying to accomplish now. “Jim, at least tell me what’s happening.”

“I’m going to crawl up the bed so that you’re sitting on my face,” He says as he does exactly what he said he would. When his face is directly under you, he says, “it’s up to you if you wanna help me out, but I’m not done with this sweet pussy.” His lips were back on your clit like before, continuing the perfect pattern and rhythm he had set earlier. It’s then that you fully realize that Jim’s hard cock was out and waiting for you. 

Using every ounce of focus you could muster, you lent your body down so that his cock was level with your face. Jim had to move his hands from your ass to your thighs to counter the shift in your balance, but not once did he break away from your heat. You quickly began to lose focus, only thinking of how strong his large hands felt on your legs and his skilled tongue darting between your button and slick hole. Pleasure was filling your whole body and loud moans left your lips as you quickly began to feel your climax approach. 

“Oh shit, please don’t stop-“ you pant, breaths fanning over his reddened tip. Jim grunts in response, speeding up his efforts. And stop, this man didn’t. Long forgotten, his cock bobbed against his underbelly from the strong breaths he was taking. Almost in an instant, the band in you began to snap when his head began to shake from side to side; tongue staying on your clit as he ate you out ravenously. With one final breath before slumping over his body, you let out a scream, “Oh, fuck!”

You could feel the way he chuckled from underneath you; his cock bouncing a bit from the action to tap against your cheek from how you were slumped over. 

“Doll, how you feelin’? Can you roll off for me?” He asked, lovingly spreading his hands over both of your ass cheeks, massaging as he went. You? Well you were trying to get over that orgasm; muscles spamming in your legs like a car after driving on a really hot day. You hummed and grunted, lazily asking him in a way to just give you a minute. This caused another chuckle to leave his chest, but his breath was quickly caught in his throat when you decided it was time to put his cock in yours.

Without warning, you grabbed him by his thick base and swallowed him down until you were about half way to his tuft of hair, not letting him adjust to the new feeling. With each new bob, each new swipe of your tongue across his slit that produced a drop of pre just for you, you felt his hands tighten and then relax against the globes of your ass. His moans filled the room, along with the obscene and filthy sounds of your mouth on him.

“Darlin’…” he moans out before he continues his warning, “you keep workin’ me like that and this is going to be over before either one of us wants.” You move your head to look over your shoulder at him, slowing your hand down to languid jerks to keep him satisfied. 

“Awe, c’mon old man,” you joke, giving Jim a playful smirk. His eyes roll and a grutal moan reverberates off the walls when you squeeze your hand at the base and move it all the way to his red and leaking tip. “Don’t tell me you’re almost done. My cunt hasn’t been stretched by your thick, mature cock.” You giggle when you see his face turn beet red, knowing that your dirty words back at the bar struck something in him now. 

Before you knew it, Jim had pulled you off of him and held you down into the bed; one of his strong hands pinning yours above your head and the other resting against his headboard. 

“First of all, babe,” he began, pushing your legs wide with his own. “I may be an old man, but I know you’re not going to complain.” His hand that was on the headboard came doing, brushing against your perked nipples and down to your clit. A gasp forced its way out when he swirled his strong and confident fingers against it. “Second of all, I was waiting for the moment that mouth of yours was gonna act up. You’re lucky I didn’t use it for something better,” he grits. His hand leaves your mound and moves to his length, stroking it before lining it up with your slit. “And lastly…” 

There was a pause in his tone, but he didn’t continue talking. Instead, he slowly pushed himself all the way in until his hips were flush to yours. 

And a stretch he was indeed.

You had never felt anything like him before. The underside of his length felt smooth and seemed to just want to glide right in. However the top side had a thick vein and his tip was more bulbous cause it to find that spongy little button inside you rather quickly. Sitting fully inside you, it felt like you had no room to breathe; Jim was breathtaking. 

What you hadn’t realized in your cock-daze was that Jim felt the exact same way. The way your wet, warm pussy clenched around him made his brain fuzzy and his chest tighten. He didn’t want you to know — at least not yet — that feeling your pulse in your pussy was making him closer to his peak than he had anticipated, so he used the hand that wasn't holding yours to swipe at your clit.

“How’s that feel, darlin’?” He asks, face scrunching to concentrate on giving rather than how you felt. 

“Please, Jim,” you beg, hips gyrating to create some type of friction. “Please make me cum again. I need you to cum in me.”

Hearing that made Jim feel like the rest of the air in his lungs had beaten out of him. Huffing, he let go of your hands and caged you onto the bed. Your hands move and snake their way around his neck, gripping onto his shoulders. His breath, let out in hearty pants, warmed your ears.

“Babydoll, you can’t say things like that to me if you want me to last,” he said, holding your whole body down as he began to slowly pull himself out. “You ready?”

You give him a hum, gripping tighter onto his shoulders. You were as ready as you were ever going to be; pussy juices slowly trickling down onto the sheets below you and matting down the hairs on his heavy balls. 

He started out with slow and thorough thrusts before he began driving himself into you. Animalistic groans were hushed when he latched his mouth to your neck, sucking on the open expanse and leaving a red mark behind. 

“You’re so—“ Jim was at a loss for words when it came to how you made his cock feel. Sitting back on his haunches, he grabbed your legs and brought your knees to your chest. “God, your pussy is just heavenly.” He grunted, head flying back as his eyes shut. One of your hands reaches up to scratch up his chest while the other one snakes down to play with your clit. You were close and eager to get there with him. 

“Jim, I wanna cum,” you moan, doing your best to give intentional circles at your clit. But it just wasn’t doing it. You needed him. “Help me cum, please.” You begged, eyebrows scrunched together to lay it on thick for him. The way you begged for him made his mind swirl. His hand swats yours away and quickly replaces it, giving you what you needed to fall over the edge of your orgasm.

“Let it out darlin’… come on,” he encouraged, speeding up his thrusts to chase his own undoing. The loud wet squelching of your dripping cunt, along with the feeling of you pulsing around his cock, was what made Jim come undone. With a loud moan and a shuddering breathing pattern, Jim fell back down against your body and held you there as he unloaded himself into you. Knowing that he was cumming, you intentionally clenched around him to milk him some more. This caused a whine — a fucking whine — to leave his throat.

Jim soon rolled over to lay next to you, pulling you into his chest. There was sweat all over both of your skins, beginning to feel sticky as the both of you slowly caught your breath. After a beat, Jim got up and went into the bathroom. You heard him rummaging around in there for a few minutes before he reamurged and slowly made his way over to you again. 

“Woah, Jim,” you began with a chuckle. “I didn’t know that this whole thing would include cuddles and a warm washcloth.” You were joking… kind of. This was around the time that goodbyes would be said and either one of you would be on your merry way. But not with Jim. You tried to reach out to grab the cloth from him, but he pulled it away from your grasp and motioned for you to lay back down. 

“Cuddles, a warm washcloth that I use to clean you up, and even breakfast in the morning if you want.” He offers, smiling at you before he leans down and kisses your forehead. He threw the washcloth into his laundry hamper that sat in the corner near his door after he wiped away at your sensitive hole. 

“And breakfast?” You ask, reaching out to grab him. You pulled him close to you, your arms wrapping around his neck again as he hovered over your body. Resting his face in the crook of your neck, he leaves open mouth smooches as he hums in agreement. “Can we have bacon and french toast?” You ask, giggling as he rolled the two of you over so that you were now laying on top of him. 

“Anything you want darlin’,” he says, holding you tighter against his frame and searching your eyes. “Anything you want.” He finalizes his words with a quick kiss to your forehead and a quick pull of the string of his lamp next to his bed. 

Jim’s strong arms hold you until you fall asleep that night. And they hold you until you fall asleep the next night, and the next, and the next. Who would have thought that Jason Carver would be the reason you found Jim Hopper. But you thank the heavens above and below that you were led to him.

[siriuslywolfish-pg9]

AU where Draco spends the summer's with Harry at the Black-Lupin household because things are tense at the Malfoy Manor. Its all going good until one day someone pays them a visit. Starring: sibling bantar between Harry and teddy, protective dad Sirius, and Remus (who is low-key turned on).

"Can we please keep him?" Draco bit back a smile as Teddy whined for the third time. They were in the kitchen, waiting for Remus to finish making breakfast. Sirius was doodling his latest design for his motorcycle, while Draco read a book and pretended not to evesdrop on the conversation taking place next to him.

"Sorry Teddy, but Draco is a person, we cannot just keep him," Remus explained patiently, already looking tired from having the same discussion, again.

"But I am not even allowed a pet dog because of dad!"

"Hey!" Sirius looked indignant but went back to his drawings when Remus gave him a quelling look.

"Can't we just give the Malfoys Harry in exchange? That way we can keep Draco!"

"That won't happen, they love me more," Harry entered the room, kissing Draco's cheek before leaning back against the counter, unwrapping a fresh cup of strawberry yogurt.

"No they don't!" Teddy agrued. "They love me more! Tell him Dad!"

Remus closed his eyes as if asking the Lord for strength.

"Please," Harry drawled, licking the yogurt exaggeratedly from his lips. "We picked you up from the dumpster. Plus, I came before you, so they love me more."

"That's not true. And that's mine!" He pointed at the yogurt. When Harry just shrugged and continued to eat it, Teddy launched himself at him, trying to snatch the yogurt from Harry, who grinned wickedly and raised it high above his head as Teddy bounced on his feet in a vain attempt to reach it.

"Dumpster baby! Dumpster baby!" Harry sang.

"You are the dumpster Baby! Give me my yogurt back-DAD!!" Teddy cried, turning to Remus for support, who pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation. He probably wanted to throttle them both, but his love for them stopped him from doing so.

Remus sighed, "Teddy, there is more yogurt in the fridge--"

"I want this one!"

"--AND you should share it with your brother." He finished strictly.

Teddy's cheeks flushed with anger and he glared at Harry, who stuck his tongue out in response.

"Told you: they love me more."

"Harry," Remus warned and Harry shut his mouth, smiling innocently.

Teddy huffed. Then punching Harry's waist with his small fists repeatedly, he screamed, "I hate you, I hate you! I want Draco!"

"Oh, do you, now?" Harry grinned and picked up the 6 year old, throwing him over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes as Teddy thrashed and flailed, hitting Harry's back. Harry guffawed, dumping the boy on the couch in the living room before viciously attacking him with tickles.

Peels of shrill laughter filled the house as Teddy struggled and tried to get away, while Harry pulled up his shirt and blew loud, wet raspberries on his tummy, easily holding down Teddy until the boy relented, admitting defeat.

The door bell rang, interrupting their bliss.

"I'll get it!" Draco said, getting up from the table. As he left the kitchen, he heard Teddy's voice reasoning with the others "See! He helps out around the house too!"

This time Draco didn't stop his smile from spreading across his face. However, it instantly died down when he opened the door.

"Father?"

Lucius's eyes raked over his son, taking in his tattered muggle t-shirt and snitch pajamas--both of which he had borrowed from Harry the previous night. Draco supressed the urge to squirm under the scrutiny and stood taller, hoping that his face looked as impassive and nonchalant as possible.

"Draco." Lucius's voice was as condescending as ever. How his father managed to put so much icy disdain in just his name alone was beyond Draco.

''What do you want?"

"Pack you bags. I am taking you back to the Manor, your mother wants you."

Draco grip on the door knob tightened. "If she wants me then she can come get me herself."

"Do not argue with me."

"But I don't want to go!"

His father's nostrils flaired. His grabbed Draco's hand in a painful grip and pulled so forcefully that Draco almost stumbled. "I have put up with your nonsense long enough!"

"Hey! let him go!" Harry was at his side in an instant, pushing at Lucius to break his grip on Draco's wrist and placing himself protectively between them, shielding Draco away from his father.

"Are you okay?" He asked softly, concerned eyes searching Draco's face. Cradling his soar wrist, Draco swallowed and nodded. Harry turned back to face Lucius, eyes hard, "He is not going anywhere with you."

Lucius sneered, "And you are going to stop me?"

"I sure will."

Lucius grabbed Harry's collar, he was atleast a foot taller than the teenager, and hissed dangerously, "Listen you filthy halfblood--"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you."

Lucius stopped at the voice and looked over. Sirius was standing in the hallway, leaning against the wall and looking as casual and devastatingly handsome as ever as he twirled his wand between his fingers.

"I would strongly suggest you unhand my godson," he said calmly. A threatning edge to his voice.

Draco's father wasn't one to be messed with. Malfoys were notorious for being terrifying, Draco knew that, but they had nothing over Blacks. Lucius yielded, letting go of Harry.

"Now, how can I help you?" Sirius asked cheerfully as he came to stand in the entryway, not so subtly extending a protective arm across Harry and gently edging the two boys behind him.

Lucius smoothed his hands down the front of his robes, trying to gather his bearings.

"I am here to take Draco."

"Is that so? And who, might I ask, are you?"

"His father. Lord Malfoy."

Sirius raised an eyebrow and turned to look at Draco.

"Draco, darling, do you want to go with this man?"

Draco swallowed, looking down at his shoes. Harry must have sensed his fear and hesitation, because he took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, making him smile.

Gaining courage, Draco squared his shoulders and looked his father straight in the eyes. "No, sir." He answered through clenched teeth.

Sirius shrugged. "Well, lord Malfoy, you heard the boy. Looks like Draco is staying here after all."

"Draco!" Lucius hissed. "Stop this, this instant or I will--!"

He was cut off by Sirius, who placed a hand on the door frame, leaning against it and blocking the young boy from view.

Lucius glared coldly at Sirius, who simply flashed his teeth in response. It would have looked charming if not for the dangerous glint in Sirius's eyes that was downright wicked.

Lucius narrowed his eyes and inched forward till he was nose to nose with Sirius. "You don't want to make an enemy of me."

Sirius straitened, all his polite, cheerful facade forgotten as his expression hardened and a dark shadow took over his handsome face. Draco was glad to note that Sirius had a couple of inches over his father. Now try looking at him down your nose, he thought happily.

"Yeah?" Sirius said, sounding almost bored. "I don't know...being your enemy sounds very tempting." He looked over his shoulders. "Harry, pup, will you be a doll and take Draco inside while I deal with our unwelcome guest?"

Harry blinked, glancing between the two men as he hesitated for a moment. Then he nodded, "Sure," and tugged at his and Draco's still entwined hands.

They had barely entered the kitchen when they heard raised voices from outside. Then there was a dull thud of a body hitting the ground and everything went quiet, followed by the bang of a door being slammed shut. Moments later Sirius returned, rubbing his knuckles.

"What happened?" Remus asked, eyes roaming over Sirius's body, checking to see if he was hurt.

"Nothing. Would you floo the Aurors? I think there's a man sleeping on our doorstep," he inclined his head toward the entrance. "I'll just pop back up and take care of this," he held up his hand to show his bruised knuckles before disappearing up the staircase.

Remus's eyes followed his husband as he left, an intense look in his eyes. He gulped, then seeming to come to a decision he hastily took off his apron and gave it to Harry. "You two can call the Aurors and take care of breakfast, right?"

But he didn't wait for Harry to respond before rushing after Sirius, a hungry look in his eyes as he climbed two steps at a time.

Harry tsked and shook his head, while Draco was extremely confused.

"What just happened?"

Harry's face screwed up, "Urgh, they are going to fuck like bunnies now." When Draco just gave him a blank look, Harry explained. "It's their thing; aparantly, Remus going all feral, or Sirius being a protective bad boy gets them going."

Draco grimaced, finaly catching on. "I did not need to know that. And neither should you. How do you even...?"

"Don't ask, it's painful as it is. They forget their silencing charm way too often. I swear to god, the way they are with each other, you would think they are still horny teenagers and not men who have been married for nearly two decades."

Draco looked at the door through which the two men had just left. "I think it's sweet, though, that they are still crazy for each other, even after so many year," he murmured, his eyes flitting to Harry. "I would love to be like that with someone when I am their age. Have what they have."

"Yeah?" Harry's voice was soft as he hugged Draco from behind, resting his chin on his shoulder.

"Yeah, It seems lovely," Draco said shyly, a faint blush dusting his cheeks.

"I suppose it does."

Draco turned his head, meeting Harry's eyes. Harry leaned in, catching Draco's lips in a chaste but deep kiss. A promise of possibilities, a tentative hope for a future, of something great and amazing and utterly beautiful. One that they don't have yet, but the could. If they tried. Slowly but surely. Together.

"Eww."

They broke apart and Harry rolled his eyes at Teddy's disgusted face and Draco snickered, dropping his head on Harry's shoulder.

"This reminds me: let's put our own silencing charms for precaution, I don't want you to get traumatised already," He told Draco.

"Do they really forget to do it that often?"

"Often enough for me take this precaution. Now c'mon."

After they placed the charm, Harry began to finish preparing breakfast, picking up right where Remus left. Draco came to stand next to him.

"Harry."

"Yeah?" He said distractedly, eyes on the pan as he flipped the last of the pancakes.

"Thank you."

When Harry looked over, Draco wasn't looking at him, but was instead busy taking out the plates, a soft smile on his face.

Harry opened his mouth as if wanting to ask what he was grateful for, but he didn't. And Draco was glad, because he had a feeling that he himself didn't know the answer. Because it wasn't a Thank you for the pancakes, or for standing up to his father, or for letting him stay, or none of those other things. It was much more...just much more than what anyone can thank someone for in words.

It was for love, for comfort, for safety, for the cozy evenings, languishing afternoons, and lazy teasing breakfast mornings. It was for the unconditional and unbidden love that rediated in this house. The urge to protect each other like the family they were. It was just the feeling of having someone, or some place, to call your own, and feel it too. Like home.

Draco felt Harry's eyes on him as he made a smily out of Jam on Teddy's pancake, just how Teddy liked it.

Callouse hands held his waist, and suddenly Draco was being pulled in for another kiss. He eagerly responded, wrapping his arms around Harry's neck, his jam-sticky fingers in the air behind him, away from Harry's hair.

This time they ignored the mock gagging sounds that Teddy made in the background, like the hypocrits they were. It seemed like they had no right to criticise Sirius and Remus.

In the end, Draco set the table as Harry pulled out choclate yogurt from the fridge and gave it to Teddy, ruffling his hair. Teddy's face lit up, all his earlier rage forgotten, and he rewarded Harry with a wet smacking kiss on his cheek. As Teddy dug into his yogurt, Draco joined them on the table, sitting next to Harry and accioing a napkin to wipe Teddy's already choclate smudged face.

All in all it was a blissfull summer morning at The Black-Lupin's.

Based on Young Sheldon (season 2, episode 20)

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 28 - Sunlight [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking, hospitals, medicine.

Word Count: 4400

Summary: Survival makes people stronger.

Everyone’s voices were so muffled that for a moment it felt as if you were under water. It came and went just like the warmth, just like the comfort—

One moment there, the other moment far away, and anytime you tried to reach through that haze, you were pushed back into the numbness.

You could swear at some point your father was there too. You were still at the cabin, in that dress, sitting across from him by the chessboard, and then back at the weekend house where your sister was chasing you around the piano, your mother calling out for you to stop running, then someone pushing you into the lake by the cabin before it changed again and your father handed you a knife.

If this is hell, I’d like to talk to the manager.

But eventually, it all came back to you. There was this heaviness on your hand, your chest and ribs hurt terribly and your forehead kept stinging as you tried to open your eyes to meet the bright lights of the hospital room.

Ah. You weren’t in the woods anymore.

You had made it after all.

The constant beeping of the machine caught your attention for a moment before you looked down to see Spencer’s head resting on your hand, his fingers entwined with yours. Your mother was by the couch, her eyes fixed on the ceiling with a crumpled tissue in her hand and Mina was resting her head on her shoulder.

“Mom?” you rasped out and your mother’s eyes whipped to yours, Mina sat up and Spencer’s head shot up.

“Oh thank God!” your mother jumped out of her seat to come to your beside and pressed a kiss on top of your head, making you wince. “Oh thank God you’re okay…”

“Hey,” Mina wiped at her eyes and cleared her throat, “Welcome back brat.”

You smiled and turned to Spencer who was still holding your hand tight, watching you with bloodshot eyes.

“I know,” you said, “No eyeliner right?”

A small sob mixed with laughter rose from his throat and he pressed your hand to his lips, swallowing thickly.

“Hi.”

“Hey professor,” you tried to smile but you were in too much pain to do so, “Is there like…a morphine button or-?”

“I’ll go get the doctor,” Mina rushed out of the room and closed the door behind her, and your mother pulled back.

“How do you feel honey?”

“Like I crawled out of hell,” you said, “Is- is everyone okay?”

“Everyone is fine.”

“Where’s Lily?”

“With Kenzie and Nolan, outside.”

You let out a breath and turned to Spencer.

“You figured it out?” you asked, “The note?”

“Ophelia, yeah,” he sniffled and nodded fervently, “Cabin by the lake, we were on our way there when—” he stopped talking as if remembering it was way too heavy on him and you squeezed his hand.

“How did I….” you looked between them, “Survive? Erica shot me.”

“The helicopter,” your mother said, “We sent it with a medic and a sniper just in case.”

“You sent a helicopter with a medic and a sniper?” you repeated, “Mom, that sounds like a joke.”

“Well I’m glad you find it funny,” your mother wiped at her eyes again, “Because you’re grounded for the rest of your life.”

“Okay,” you shot a look at Spencer, “Ignore this.”

“No, not even your boyfriend can help you right now.”

“They still like you, no worries,” you explained and he shook his head slightly, reaching out to touch your cheek as if trying to prove to himself that you were real.

“I thought—“ he started and blinked back the tears, gritting his teeth and you rubbed your thumb over his hand.

“I’m fine,” you said and lifted your head when the thought hit you, “Wait what happened to Lincoln?”

A shadow crossed Spencer’s eyes and your mother flexed her fingers as if she wanted to throttle someone upon hearing his name.

“That monster is currently handcuffed to a hospital bed,” she said, “But not to worry, we put ten guards in front of his door, and I will make sure to ruin his life myself.”

“He survived?”

“Barely,” Spencer said through his teeth but before he could say anything else, the door opened and a doctor stepped in. Even you could hear Lily’s very loud protests, Kenzie trying to shush her and you smiled slightly before turning to the doctor who was checking the file in her hand.

“Hello Y/N,” she said cheerfully “Nice to see you awake, for a moment you had me worried we wouldn’t get to meet. So, we have head trauma, a bullet wound, broken ribs and blood loss. Were you trying to fill out a bingo of dangerous injuries or…?”

“Go big or go home doc,” you nodded and she raised her brows.

“Should I put in a psychiatric evaluation in here as well then?”

“Yes please,” your mother pinched the bridge of her nose and you heaved a sigh, making a face.

“Pain?”

“A lot.”

“Let’s see what we can do about that,” she said and Spencer stood up.

“Can I see her chart please?” he asked and she took almost taken aback before showing him the chart.

“I’d like to change these two meds,” Spencer said and started listing off his suggestions while you watched him with a smile on your face.

“Spencer,” you said, “Please let the nice and smart lady do her job.”

The doctor grinned at you, “That’s alright. Is there anything you would like to ask me?”

“Two questions. One, when can I go home?”

“We’d like to keep you under observation for a couple of days, depending on how fast your body shows progress to heal.”

“Okay. Can I smoke here?”

“Oh Jesus Christ,” your mother threw her head back, Spencer just stared at you and the doctor blinked a couple of times.

“Since this job taught me never to take any question as hypothetical,” she said, “I’m just going to answer it. No, under absolutely no circumstances are you allowed to smoke here.”

You curled your lips, “It was worth a try.”

“We’ll give you some really good painkillers, don’t worry,” she winked, “I’ll let the rest of your family in and see you later.”  

She walked to the door and opened it, and soon enough Lily rushed inside but as soon as she leaped at you, Kenzie caught her mid-air like a troublesome cat.

“No, what did I say outside?”

“But mama—“

“It’s okay Kenz. Hi bug.”

Kenzie gave you a teary eyed smile and slowly set Lily down, and she hugged her teddy bear before taking a step towards you, nibbling on her lip.

“Does it hurt?” she pointed at the stitches on your forehead and you tilted your head.

“Just a little, sweetie.”

She carefully put the teddy bear beside your bed and grinned at you.

“Mr. Chocolate Chip Cookie will be your friend here,” she patted the teddy bear’s head and you let out a small laugh.

“I really appreciate it bug, thank you,” you said and held the teddy bear in your lap before you turned to Nolan. “Hey man, thanks for the helicopter.”

“Thanks for the almost heart attack,” he replied and fixed his bowtie, “You keep me young with all this panic and adrenaline. Honestly Y/N, never do that to us again, please.”

“I’ll try my best not to get kidnapped by a maniac again,” you stated, “Besides, mom already grounded me so…”

“Good! No jet for you for a while young lady.”

A nurse came in to inject the painkiller into your IV, and you smiled at the sight of your family fondly, then cleared your throat.

“Hey, not that I didn’t miss you guys,” you said, “But um…can I talk to Spencer for a moment?”

Kenzie and Mina exchanged looks and Kenzie lifted Lily up.

“We’ll be right outside,” she said and walked to the door. One by one they left the room and your jaw dropped when you saw Mina squeezing Spencer’s shoulder before she left as well.

“Well, something changed,” you commented and Spencer came to pull a chair next to the bed before he reached out to hold your hand.

“She was the first one to talk to me when we landed,” his voice still didn’t sound so strong and you frowned.

“What did she say?”

“Go there and bring my sister back.” Spencer said and ran a hand over his eyes, “Based on the profile, I thought he’d already—“ he couldn’t even finish that sentence before he kissed the back of your hand, “I thought I lost you.”

“Nah, cigarettes will kill me, not serial killers,” you reached out to push a curl out of his eyes, “I thought you knew that. All looks and no smarts, aren’t you?”

He scoffed a shaky laugh and you licked your lips.

“What happened there?” you asked, “I heard gunshots after Erica shot me, is she—“

“Dead,” Spencer nodded, “She was shot right there.”

You could feel the goosebumps on your skin, “And Lincoln?”

“I was going to kill him,” Spencer said, “If I got there first, I would’ve.”

“Spencer you don’t mean that.”

“I do,” he told you, a dangerous light gleaming in his eyes, “I do mean that.”

You heaved a sigh, now easier thanks to the painkillers, “Yeah well, I guess I know the feeling.”

“Um- the team is outside as well by the way,” he said, “Luke and Garcia has been here the whole night, and I’ve been instructed to tell you, word by word, no amount of pastries will excuse the worry you put them through.”

You grinned, the tired haze of sleep crashing on you, “Ouch, I’ll have to try harder I guess,” you said and yawned, making Spencer smile.

“Rest a little,” he said, “I’ll stay right here, okay?”

You nodded and leaned your head back to the pillows, then closed your eyes.

                                                 ***

You were given the permission to go home after a week because your mother insisted on keeping you there until she was convinced you wouldn’t drop dead all of a sudden. Surprisingly enough, she didn’t raise hell when you told her you would be staying at Spencer’s place for a while, and for once, Mina agreed with you.

You really needed to ask Spencer what had happened while you were gone, in detail.

It was strange, but your sleep was much less disturbed after you had returned from the hospital. When you were in hospital you had just assumed it was because of the meds they had given you, but now, sleeping with Spencer in his bed, there was still no sign of any nightmares.

With you, that was. Spencer was a completely different story.

You still had to be careful because of your ribs and the doctor had told you to be careful with how you slept, so the moment you moved a little in your sleep and felt the pain shooting through you, you made a face and reached for Spencer’s side of the bed only to meet an empty spot. You opened your eyes, and carefully sat up in bed, trying to hear whether there was any noise to signal he was coming back to bed but there was none, so you slipped out of the bed and walked to the living room.

Of course he was there. Cradling a cup with steam coming out of it in his hands, staring into the darkness as if he was lost in his own mind.

“Spencer?” you said softly and he turned his head, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Hey,” he said, trying to smile, “Why are you up?”

“I could ask you the same question,” you tilted your head before you went to sit beside him and he ran a hand through his curls.

“It’s not important.”

“Nightmares?” you asked and he nodded silently.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Maybe later,” he murmured, “How about you? Any pain? Do you need an ice bag?”

You shook your head, “Nah it’s fine,” you said, “It doesn’t hurt that terribly.”

“And your nightmares?”

You shrugged, “No nightmares. I mean—at least not like the earlier ones. Not where I’m turning into him.”

“Trauma works differently in everyone.”

“I don’t think it’s the trauma though,” you said, “I think it’s because…because I know now.”

He raised his brows, his whole attention on you, “What do you mean?”

“It’s not in me,” you said, “It’s just—it’s just not. I don’t think it ever was. My father killed people because it made him feel powerful. It wasn’t like that with me, back at the cabin. It was survival. For me and people I care about, that’s all. It doesn’t make me evil.”

That seemed to pull him out of his thoughts and he smiled.

“No it doesn’t,” he said, “You’ve never been evil. Even when he tried to turn you into that.”

Even your heart felt light, despite the pain in your ribs and your smile widened.

“I know he’s not dead but…”

“He’s locked away. Same difference from now on.”

You paused for a moment, “Speaking of,” you said, “I was thinking I could go and see him for the last time.”

He frowned, “Why?”

“I don’t know. I think it’ll help me put this whole thing behind me.”

“Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“I want to see the look on his face when he realizes his small project failed,” you said, “Trust me. There’s no way he can get to me, not anymore.”

He rubbed his thumb over your hand and you leaned back to the back of the couch, still keeping your gaze on his handsome face.

“You don’t have to come with me,” you said, “If it’s too much.”

“It’s not that,” he rasped out, “Officially, I might not be allowed in.”

“Why not?”

“I’m leaving the BAU.”

You blinked a couple of times, gawking at him, then sat up straighter.

“What?”

“I can’t anymore,” he averted his glances from you to look into space, nibbling on his lip, “Y/N, I was out of the city when they called me to tell me you were missing, that you were most probably taken by the copycat. And for the whole time until I found you…” his voice cracked, “Lincoln’s profile, before we even knew that he was Lincoln, it all suggested that he…killed his victims without spending any time with them. I thought—“ he sniffled and cleared his throat, “I can’t do that anymore. Imagining you like all those victims…”

“Spencer, I’m fine.”

“But you weren’t,” he said, barely moving his lips, “Back there.”

Ah. The woods.

“That’s what your nightmare was about?” you asked and he heaved a shaky sigh.

“I couldn’t save you,” he said, “You died there, and I couldn’t do anything, I was too late—“

“Spencer,” you reached out to touch his cheek, “Hey, look at me.”

He turned his head so that his eyes would meet yours and you dragged your fingertips over the slight stubble on his cheek.

“You weren’t too late,” you told him, “And I didn’t die. Okay? I’m right here. Don’t leave the BAU because of me, do it only if you want to. I’ll be with you either way.”

He blinked back the tears and nodded. “I want to,” he whispered, “I can’t anymore, and I want- I want to be here. I’ll just…I’ll focus on teaching, and the team can consult me whenever they need to, but I need to be here.”

“And you’re sure about that? It’s not some…heat of the moment decision?”

“It’s not,” he said, “I’m positive.”

“Alright,” you smiled at him softly, “Okay then. I guess instead of talking about gruesome murders and copycats who were after me, we can be one of those boring, cliché couples who bicker about…I don’t know, dirty dishes in the sink, or how you forgot to put down the toilet seat or-“

“Your hair in the drain.”

“I’m going to pretend like you weren’t waiting for the opportunity to bring that up.”

He let out a teary laugh and wiped at his eyes before he pulled you closer and carefully wrapped his arms around you so as not to hurt your ribs, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You brushed your fingers through his curls, as if trying to prove to him that you were there, that you were alright.

“I love you so much,” the confession left his lips in a whisper and you could feel the burning behind your eyes as you raked your nails over the nape of his neck gently.

“I love you too,” you murmured, “God, you have no idea how much.”

                                                      ***

The BAU, upon your request, fixed a meeting with your father for the next week.

And throughout that week, everyone tried to convince you to change your mind. Your mother had made a whole scene during brunch, telling you that it was as if you liked torturing yourself, but you knew deep down that you had to talk to him for the last time.

Seeing your father after what felt like a life time, especially after everything that you had been through was strange at the very least. You didn’t have any goosebumps, you didn’t have that nervousness messing with your head, you didn’t feel like you were under the threat of being attacked any time, and most of all—

You didn’t feel like he was stronger than you. At all.

You lit a cigarette in the interrogation room, then flipped the cap of the lighter and turned your head when the door opened and your father walked in, chains dangling from his handcuffs wrapped around his ankles. He stared at you for a couple of seconds as if he didn’t expect to see you there and let out a breath.

“Petal…”

“You should sit down,” you said, exhaling the smoke and a guard helped him sit down across from you.

“We’re right outside, miss.”

“Thank you,” you said and watched as he straightened his back, his gaze focused on you.

“You look…” he trailed off and you raised your brows,

“Hm?”

“What did they do to you?”

“Ah I guess your outside source ending up dead gets you a bit behind on the news,” you said, “Erica is dead, Lincoln is never gonna see the sunlight again, and your whole project to turn me into your legacy with the help of them failed terribly.”

“I’d never allow them to harm you like this.”

You rolled your eyes, exhaling the smoke.

“But you fought your way out, didn’t you?” he asked you, “Looks like my training helped you after all. Even if you refuse to see that.”

“Did you seriously think I’d become like you?” you asked back, “Did you think Lincoln would manage to turn me into you?”

“Honey, Lincoln was going to be your companion at best, your first kill at worst.” he said and you clicked your tongue.

“Oh, that was your plan all along?”

“Some part of it, at least. I knew they wouldn’t be able to handle you, but I thought you could decide what to do with them. Could you kill Erica at least?”

“Didn’t get the chance.”

“You should have,” he said, “You would see, Petal.”

You twirled the cigarette between your fingers, staring at him for a couple of seconds.

“I keep thinking,” you mused, “You know what I said to Mina and Kenzie when they first told me they wanted to have a baby?”

He tilted his head, “Hm? What?”

“I asked them if they lost their minds.”

Your father pulled back slightly and you shrugged your shoulders.

“Because I mean… Kenzie’s parents are assholes, and there’s you,” you motioned at him, “Not that anyone else could take the cake on being a messed up parent when you’re in the picture.”

“I take offense to that.”

“I don’t care,” you said, “But then it hit me, back at the hospital. I was looking at this whole mess from the wrong perspective.”

“Which is?”

“They had a point,” you said, “Back then- before all this I mean, I thought when someone decided to have kids, their first priority was to be the perfect parent. That’s stupid, it’s impossible to be the perfect parent, our own parents mess us up in one way or another. But I get it now.”

“You get what?”

“The first step is being better than your own parents, not starting out perfect,” you said, “That’s why every generation is different, we’re all trying to be better than our parents, and some of us actually succeed.”

“And you think you’d be a better parent than me, is that it?”

“Shouldn’t take that much of an effort to be honest.”

“Are you…?” he motioned at you and you scoffed.

“No,” you said, “No, but what happened back there made me think. I’ve been living my whole life so convinced that you messed me up beyond my own control, beyond saving, but that’s not completely true, is it? I mean, just because you’re in my past, doesn’t mean I’ll have to include you in my present.”

“But I am in your present Petal.”

You pursed your lips together, then gestured around you. “Debatable. Nolan is buying this whole place, did you know that?” you asked, “All your guards are on our paychecks, so it should be harder to…use them to contact outside. We control everything that’s happening here, and there’s nothing you can do about that.”

He blinked a couple of times, trying to catch up with your train of thought.

“And you think that will be enough to put me behind you?”

You shook your head, “No, I don’t think it’s that easy,” you confessed, “But it’s a start.”

He moved his hands on the table, the chain rattling.

“I raised you.” he said, “I’m inside your head, whether you like it or not. You’re my legacy—“

“I’m my own legacy, you fucking idiot,” you said with a small chuckle, “That’s who I am. Just because your expectations of me will not leave me, doesn’t mean I’ll let them haunt me.”

“And you think that will be enough.”

“I will never see you again,” you tilted your head, “Should make things easier, to be honest.”

He smiled, “But you already hurt people,” he said “You know how it feels now, don’t you? That fire? Now you know what you’re capable of.”

You thought for a moment.

“Yeah,” you said, “Yeah I do. Now I know that if it ever comes to that point, I’m capable of protecting myself and my family. It doesn’t make me a monster, it makes me a survivor. Me and mom have that in common, after the shit you’ve pulled.”

He stared at you and you took a last drag of your cigarette, then checked your wristwatch.

“Well I should go. You may have all the time in the world, but I actually have a life, so…”

You stubbed your cigarette and walked to the door but as soon as you opened it, he said your name, making you stop.

“You can’t escape from this,” he said, “Even if you never see me again, you still won’t escape, you know that, right? Why do you think I chose you and not your sister? Even when you were a child, you had…something in you. Something dark, something dangerous.”

The idea was very familiar to you. You had been saying the same thing to yourself for many years and hearing it from him for what felt like a hundredth time was supposed to make you feel bad, you knew that. If it were any other time before your kidnapping, before saving yourself in that cabin, before surviving everything your father and his followers had put you through, it would probably have more effect on you.

The last time he had done that, you had ended up in the stairs, shaking until Spencer had found you.

But it wasn’t that time.

It was as if something had clicked inside your head after everything, and your father’s words held no strength in them.

“Come on honey,” he told you, “Some people are just born twisted.”

A small smile pulled at your lips and you raised your brows, looking at him for a couple of seconds, etching the sight of him in chains into your memory.

“Maybe,” you said and took a step towards him, opening your cigarette case to pull out the small jasmine flower out of it, then put it on the table, eyes locked to his before you leaned in slightly.

“But I wasn’t.”

With that, you turned around and walked out of the interrogation room for the last time, ignoring the way he was yelling your name. Your smile widened as you made your way out of the building, your heels echoing in the halls before you stepped out, the fresh air filling your lungs.

“Hey,” Spencer greeted you, leaning back to your car and reached out so that you could step into his embrace as he pushed your hair out of your face, “How did it go?”

“As expected,” you stood on your tiptoes to press a kiss on his lips and he heaved a sigh.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you said “Yeah I feel like…he’s gone. He’s gone, I’m here and I’m free and I know myself now. I finally woke up from that nightmare, for good.”

He smiled and brushed his lips against yours, “That’s a good start,” he commented, “What do you want to do now?”

“I’m open to suggestions,” you said and he tilted his head before he held up your keys.

“What do you say we drive away and never return here?”

You let out a small giggle and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“I like that idea,” you said, “Let’s drive away and never return.”

Chapter 29 

[rocorambles]

Duty and Responsibility

Pairing: Osamu x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Historical AU, Arranged Marriage AU, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Lactation Kink

Summary: Love can form in surprising places, even in a marriage centered only around duty and responsibility. 

You patiently wait beside Daichi, back straight, gaze downcast and demure, the picture perfect example of a soon to be bride. Only if someone watched with hawk eyes, purposefully looking for flaws in your facade, would they notice the way you stand just a tad too close to the head of the Karasuno clan, desperately trying to cling onto any comfort or courage you can. 

There’s nothing to be afraid of. At least that’s what Daichi says. And you know he would never put you in harm’s way. You trust him with your life and more. After all, it’s he who’s practically single handedly raised you, saving you from guaranteed death as a street urchin, welcoming you and wholeheartedly accepting you as one of his own. He’s the older brother figure you never had. The one who showed you what family and belonging were. 

So if he says that he trusts Kita, the head of Inarizaki, and vouches for Kita’s choice of a future husband for you. Of course you put your faith in his words. But it doesn’t stop the clawing nausea inside of you as you get ready to meet the stranger your life is now forever entwined with. 

Inarizaki and Karasuno have never had much of a relationship before, good or bad. You know of the infamous fox clan, the tales of their notorious twins spreading far and wide. But they’ve always just been stories, pretty words that you couldn’t tie to a warm body. 

Until now. 

You’d be naive to not understand just how prominent Karasuno has become, no longer the laid back humble clan it once used to be. And as proud as you are of Daichi and how his tireless work and dedication have helped the crows fly high in the sky once again, you can’t help but feel a small regretful pang when you remember that carefree life you once had, when you were just a young woman dreaming about marrying for love and finding “the one”. 

But that was just a silly girl’s dream. You know what your duty and responsibilities are and you don’t dare shirk away from them now. Not when Daichi has so deeply instilled those firm beliefs and foundations inside of you both through teaching and example. And it’s the fact that you know, with just a word, he’d completely cancel it, call everything off and risk ruining ties between the two clans, that has you gritting your teeth and standing firm, awaiting your future. 

This isn’t how you had dreamed your happily ever after would be, but for Daichi, for Karasuno, for your new family? You’d gladly die as a pawn. 

And a pawn you are, even if it is a glorified one. 

You can still vividly remember the night Daichi had called you into his office, remember how nervous he was as his eyes looked anywhere other than at you, remember the pain he tried to hide in his voice as he proposed the idea to you. He used gentle words, meandering and rambling around the point, but the message was as clear as a knife in the gut. 

Sacrifice yourself to solidify the union between Karasuno and Inarizaki. 

An arranged marriage with no one other than Miya Osamu. 

You remember how your heart had dropped at Daichi’s words, a sinking feeling churning inside of you only worsened by how regretfully brown eyes looked at you, a gnawing of his lips before he blurted out that you could say no even though both of you know it’s not really an option, certainly not the wiser option. 

Possibly anger and break ties with one of the most powerful clans in the country over a mere woman? 

You knew that an arranged marriage was always a strong possibility. But you had always imagined that it would be with someone you knew from the clans you’re closer with like Nekoma and Fukurodani. Maybe even Seijoh or Shiratorizawa. But Inarizaki? Miya Osamu? 

A part of you is glad that at least it isn’t his wild blond twin, someone whose presence spreads like wildfire, loudly crackling and announcing itself, wreaking havoc in its wake. But if the stories are true, Osamu isn’t much better. More of a volcano than an out of control fire, but just as able to burst and explode if provoked enough. 

So you’re surprised when you lay eyes on him for the first time as the fox clan enters the room, nothing seemingly fiery or volatile about the handsome man politely bowing in front of you. Instead you’re reminded of the moon and its quiet yet hardened radiance and although you don’t know a thing about your fiance, you think that maybe it’s not the worst scenario, especially as his brother’s voice loudly echoes throughout the chambers, already making a scene not even minutes into your two clans meeting.

Little do you know a silver haired man is thinking the same thing as he carefully scans you over.

Osamu has never thought much about marriage or what his future wife would be like. It’s always just been Atsumu, him, and all the trouble they constantly got themselves into. But as Daichi and Kita pass back and forth polite pleasantries, it’s beginning to feel all too real how planned out his future is. Yet looking at you, he can envision it, the picture perfect couple, a picture perfect house, a picture perfect family. It’s obvious that you’ve been raised well, not that he expects any less of someone Daichi himself has taught and raised from the ground up. And although he doesn’t have hopes that you’ll be the love of his life, for Kita, for Inarizaki, for his family, he can be the respectable husband and father they and you need him to be. 

With duty and honor at the forefront of both your minds, you begin to court each other. It’s pleasant, like a well rehearsed performance, both your perfected mannerisms shining and waltzing around each other in perfect grammar, politically correct opinions, and graceful table manners. To any outside eye, the two of you are the epitome of prim and proper, a vision of what an upstanding couple should look like, nothing scandalous or eye catching as the two of you amble around, getting to know each other. 

But that’s all it is, a superbly done play and both of you can feel the weight of the falseness heavy upon your shoulders as you keep your smile from unbecomingly stretching across your face, as Osamu bites back his usual snarky verbiage. 

You’re grateful for the frequent interruptions from both your rowdy clan members, feeling the pressure lift off of you just a bit when Nishinoya comes racing across the field, not a hint of reservation as he excitedly rambles and shouts about the latest gossip he’s heard, when Tanaka comes storming over and manhandles the shorter man into leaving the two of you alone. And as aggravating as Atsumu can be, Osamu is secretly glad when the annoying blonde takes it upon himself to crash most of your outings together, allowing himself the brief leisure of resting his meticulously crafted mask as his twin yaps on and on unhindered to you. 

But his gratitude for Atsumu only goes so far and despite how hard Osamu has tried to keep up appearances in front of you, it was only a matter of time before he lost his composure the more and more his more obnoxious counterpart loitered around the two of you, hogging all your attention to himself. 

Osamu isn’t a jealous person, or so he had thought, but his moral compass has always skewed heavily whenever his twin is involved and he can feel his frustration and temper rise when Atsumu’s interruptions become more than a slight reprieve, capturing your attention, not even leaving scraps for Osamu to work with. 

And maybe, just maybe, he can admit that he is jealous....jealous of how easy it is for Atsumu to always be himself no matter the situation, no matter who’s around, never a care or worry about what others think of him. 

That feeling festers, slowly boiling, temperature rising, until it comes to a full throttle and Osamu can no longer bite back his typical scathing tone he uses with his brother, icy tone ordering the rambunctious man to leave the two of you the fuck alone. 

“Last time I checked, ‘Sumu, you’re not the one getting married. So either go find someone who’ll be willing to put up with you or find another couple to third-wheel with.” 

Of course that’s not the end of it because God forbid Atsumu grows up and lets Osamu have the last word for once and before he even realizes what’s happening, a body is crashing into his and they immediately begin growling and snarling at each other as they wrestle each other, throwing jabs and kicks, completely forgetting the bystander watching the two men in awe. 

But when your roaring laughter fills the air, Osamu freezes, disbelief and curiosity curling inside of him as he turns to see if that uncouth hyena guffaw is truly coming from you, only to be amazed when he sees you practically bent in half, wheezing, face scrunched in giddy lines as you continue howling in amusement. And despite how “unseemly” your appearance is, he thinks you’re the most beautiful like this, something warm growing inside him when he basks in the essence of your pure joy for the first time. 

Unfortunately it’s short lived and he hides the pout forming on his lips when you notice his eyes on you, murmuring apologies left and right as you abruptly resume your typical ladylike stance and countenance, no proof of the genuine beauty he had seen just seconds ago other than the embarrassed look on your face. And like an infection your shame spreads and he scrambles to his feet (slightly getting one last kick in and hiding a smile at Atsumu’s whine), quickly brushing himself off and deeply bowing and apologizing for his own childish behavior. 

But as he plays the ever perfect gentleman, protectively strolling with you and guiding you back home, the cogs in his mind begin to turn, a determined glint entering his gaze. 

You’re clearly not the prim and proper angel he had thought you were and obviously, you don’t mind his more...explosive side, if your mirth earlier as your fiance rolled around on the ground like a fool is anything to go by. 

Forget prim, proper, and perfect. He wants to know more about who you really are hidden underneath the elegant layers you’ve been shielding yourself with, reveal his own true nature to you, marry your flaws and strengths together as you build a life even better than perfect, something visceral, something real, something more tangible than the whimsical dreams of fairy tale romances. 

He takes the first step, his desire to break down your barriers giving him the confidence he needs to be more vulnerable. But even then, there’s slight trepidation as he bustles around the kitchen, wondering what you would think of his cooking hobby, hoping and wishing for your acceptance and approval despite how uncommon, maybe even looked down upon, it is in your society for a man to be rummaging around a woman’s domain. 

But he’s good at what he does. He knows he is. And with that thought, he resolves himself to skillfully molding the onigiri he’s renowned for among his own clan, taking extra pains to make sure each one is perfectly filled, shaped, and decorated, snooping around and subtly asking your clan mates what your favorite flavors and ingredients are and incorporating them. Pleased with the final results, he sends a message for you to meet him in a secluded section of the park the two of you often frequent. 

Used to Osamu coming to your chambers and walking with you right from the start, you’re surprised by the request to meet him and your heart flutters when you realize the specific location he’s chosen is one you run away to and use to hide from the world when you just need time and space for yourself, a location you’ve never told anyone about before, a safe haven and oasis you call your own. You’re surprised by how little you care about sharing this secret place with him, something bubbly and warm eliciting a smile on your face as you hike up your skirts and rush towards your fiance, laughing in the wind and ignoring the chiding from Suga and Asahi to “stop running” and “act like a lady”. 

But as you near your destination, you do slow down, nervously gnawing at your bottom lip as your fingers comb through your wind tousled hair, smoothing out your skirts and making sure there’s no leftover signs of your delinquent behavior. And putting years of etiquette lessons into practice, you gracefully stroll towards the man you’re here to meet. Only to be startled out of your picturesque poise by the gorgeous spread in front of you. 

Candles and lanterns flicker in the soft breeze, encasing and basking the area in their ethereal glow. Luxurious rugs and pillows are artfully splayed out across the floor, turning the grassy lawn into the most wondrous lounge you’ve ever seen and it takes all your willpower not to squeal and pounce in the ridiculously plush field. But what really takes your breath away is how Osamu’s chiseled face radiates in the warm light of the gentle fires blazing around him, a smile dancing on his lips when he takes in your wide entranced eyes, and you can feel your face warm, heart beating a mile a minute when you realize that he’s done all this just for you, a woman he hardly knows. And you quickly make your way towards him, blabbering on and on about how this is over the top, how he absolutely didn’t have to do any of this, how you can’t believe he went through all this trouble for you. Only to be silenced when he cuts you off with a single sentence topped with the sweetest smile you’ve ever seen. 

“I did it because I wanted to.” 

Stunned and still overwhelmed that almost a complete stranger has done something so lavish, so special, so selfless, just for you, you obediently let him beckon you and guide you to a seated position, sighing in bliss when you nestle among the myriad of fabrics, pleased that they feel just as nice, if not better, than what you had imagined. You excitedly watch as he rummages through the picnic basket he’s packed, realizing then just how hungry you actually are, and once again your jaw drops and you wonder if any of this is real, unsure how it’s possible for him to keep on pulling more and more items from the container until pristine glasses filled with refreshing liquids and ornate porcelain plates heaping with the most perfect onigiri you’ve ever seen entirely cover the empty space of the fabric spread surrounding you. 

Senses still in overdrive, it’s all you can do to mindlessly grab the onigiri he offers you and bring it to your lips. But when your teeth sink into the delicate layers of seaweed and rice, the taste of your favorite filling slamming into your tastebuds, you’re jolted back to reality and suddenly any decorum you’ve learned is thrown out the window and Osamu bursts out laughing, a pleased flush on his face when you begin raving and practically dancing in your seat about how delicious the rice ball is as you simultaneously shove more bites into your mouth, your cheeks expanding not unlike the little chipmunks he sees prancing around the area. And when you realize just how unrefined you appear as the last bits of the onigiri are swallowed, an embarrassed apology on the tip of your tongue, he boldly reaches out to grab your hand, lacing your fingers with his. 

“There’s nothing to be sorry about. I’m glad you enjoyed them so much.” 

But it’s his turn to be embarrassed when you tentatively sidle up to him, allowing your bodies to touch as you lean into his side, continuing to hold his hand, looking up at him under fluttering lashes as you ask him where he’d gotten the food from. And this time it’s he who quietly murmurs that he had actually made these himself, apprehensive of what your reaction will be to finding out this secret tidbit, only for his own jaw to drop and gape in surprise when there’s not a second of hesitation or judgement as you look at him in awe, begging him to teach you his recipe. 

Needless to say, whispers and rumors run amok as Osamu and you hog and hoard the kitchen at all hours of the day and night, some older and more traditional maids and servants looking on scandalously as Osamu rolls up his sleeves and slaves over pots and pans, the majority of your clan and Inarizaki just rolling their eyes with fond smiles on their faces as they watch the two of you in a flurry or chaos, food everywhere, stains on your clothes when the both of you proudly share your finished products that everyone, even those grumpy old naggers, enjoys.

One day, when the kitchen becomes particularly messy as Osamu accidentally spills flour all over you in his attempt to reach for the highly perched bag, there’s a brief moment of tension when you loudly gasp as white powder swirls all around you and your fiance awkwardly stands in place unsure whether to laugh or be mortified about the mess he’s made of you. But just as he comes to his senses and frantically looks around for a towel or rag to help clean you with, he yelps when something collides with his head, shortly followed by a cold slimy trail slipping down the nape of his neck, whipping his head around to look at you in shock. 

When he sees the bowl of eggs strategically placed next to you, the broken eggshells at his feet, and the smug grin on your face, he stands at attention, meeting the challenging look in your eyes with his own competitive gleam. And then there’s only a whirlwind of commotion as the two of you scream and uproariously giggle, racing around the kitchen, ducking behind cabinets, finding anything and everything to chuck at the other, only stopping when Daichi and Kita finally put an end to the madness, trying to stay stern as they bite back their own laughter and relief at seeing the two of you get along so well. 

The two of you profusely bow in apology, swearing you’ll clean up the mess you’ve made, but the second your two clan heads leave, you simultaneously peek at each other, softly chuckling at how filthy you both look. And as Osamu carefully plucks bits of egg shells from your hair and as you affectionately wipe his face clean of flour, eggs, and everything else that’s managed to get stuck, the two of you feel the stirrings of something more than just duty and responsibility, more than even just friendship or attraction, growing inside of you. 

That feeling expands and blossoms inside the two of you, never ceasing to move and swirl inside both your hearts before clamoring into a resounding crescendo on your wedding day. And as Osamu and you both try to fight back tears of happiness and belonging, tears of everything falling into place, tears of life just making sense when you stand beside each other at the altar, the two of you thank whoever’s listening that you’re bound to each other for all of eternity. 

The wedding is a joyous and rowdy affair and your stomach aches from laughing nonstop, feet sore from never ending rounds of dancing, eyes and hands unable to to be torn from your husband who is likewise as enamored as you. Both of you just stick out your tongues and ignore the teasing gags and hollering from both your clan mates as the two of you remain glued to each other all night. And as the evening draws to an end and Atsumu drunkenly shouts at both of you to get a room, your face heats and your stomach swoons when Osamu just cheekily smiles back and says that the both of you will do just that before swooping you up in his arms and carrying you out bridal style, wishing everyone farewell as he whisks you away to the amusement of your friends and family, raucous encouragements being shouted in your wake while you hide your embarrassed face in the crook of his shoulder, meekly waving goodbye to the cheering crowds. 

But that atmosphere changes when you enter the room set aside for the two of you to spend your wedding night, the first evening of your lifelong union, and it feels like all those moons ago when the two of you first met as slightly trembling hands wrap around each other in a tentative embrace, lips hesitatingly pressing against each other in an inquisitive manner. Fingers brush against buttons, zippers, and ribbons. Fabric rustles as they’re shakily removed and placed aside. And then it’s just the two of you as you are, nothing hiding you from the other as eyes and fingertips gently roam and explore new territory. 

It starts off slow as the two of you take your time mapping every line and curve now laid bare for your greedy eyes and hands, tasting each other, revelling in the little moans and grunts that fill the room as pert nipples are teased, teeth nip at the junction where neck meets shoulder, hips languidly grind and rub against each other. 

Osamu’s head falls back as your fingers curiously wrap around his throbbing shaft, testing different strokes, and he returns your actions by slipping one long finger inside of you, hungrily staring at the way your mouth unconsciously opens, a tiny mewl escaping you from the delicious intrusion. You try your best to keep up your ministrations, gliding your hand up and down the velvety warmth heavy in your hands, but your movements become sloppy as the silver haired minx on top of you teasingly takes his time, painstakingly prepping you and stretching you out, only adding a new finger when your hips desperately shake and squirm in a silent plea for more. 

But even three fingers in, it’s not enough, and you can’t help the petulant whine that leaves your mouth, the wanton begging for your husband to hurry up, eyes practically rolling in your head when he finally presses the tip of his cock against your fluttering and wanting entrance, eagerly awaiting the feeling of his shaft filling your desperate hole. Yet Osamu has different plans and you let out a choked sob when instead he slides the tip of his erection up and down your sensitive folds, patiently watching your building slick coat his mushroomed head, making sure you’re completely ready to take him. 

You snap at him, tears beginning to form in your eyes from the denial and frustration, words coming out more demanding and bratty than you had intended as you order him to get on with it already. But you immediately regret your actions, whimpering when dark eyes sternly stare you down, pinning you in place and forcing you to clamp your mouth shut. 

“Who knew a virgin like you could be such a demanding whore.” 

The demeaning words have no right to affect you the way they do and you only become more agitated, a lance of arousal piercing through you and making you squirm from his tone and choice of phrase. You want him. You need him. And you thrash underneath him, futilely trying to force his cock inside of you, only to sob and submissively freeze at his next words. 

“Stop moving or I’m going to tie you up and tease you all night.”

You feel like helpless prey, no fight left in you to resist, your energy spent obeying him, trying your best to stay put, fingers clawing into the rumpled bed sheets underneath you. And Osamu feels pride swell in his chest at how good you are, how perfect you’re behaving for him as he takes his time, fingers curling and gliding against your gummy walls, scissoring as they go in and out of tight hole, not stopping until you’re literally gushing, leaking juices everywhere, salty watery trails leaking from your eyes as your body shivers from pent up arousal and desire. 

He can’t take his eyes off of you as his cock begins to breach your drenched entrance, enraptured by every flutter of your lashes, every change in your expression as he sinks deeper and deeper, branding every moment in his memory as you allow yourself to touch him, digging your nails into his upper arms as you come to terms with the sensation of being stuffed full. You moan, sinking into the tender kiss he offers as he finally bottoms out, tongues swirling around each other as you soak in the feeling of being so intimately connected.

But Osamu smirks when you make it known that enough is enough and he lightly bites your lower lip in playful punishment when you insistently rock your hips, hissing when you clamp down on his cock and let out whining sounds, too far gone to even verbally tell him what you want. Maybe next time he’ll be stricter about your bratty tendencies, but he supposes you’ve done well considering it’s your first time together and he relents. 

A high pitched keen echoes through the room as Osamu picks up a steady rhythm, neck arching and mouth falling open as his cock drags against your walls with every snap of his hips, drowning in how deep and purposeful every stroke is, panting loudly as his heavy balls slap against your ass. He groans when your legs instinctively wrap around him as he brings a hand to fondle your aroused clit, forcing him closer, deeper, unwilling to leave any space between the two of you. And he’s on the same page as you, his torso leaning down, the new position having him hit new places inside of you that have you gasping, as he takes one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, sucking and watching in dark amusement as your eyes roll back in your head from all the stimulation. 

He swears he could die happy like this, his cock enveloped in your tight wet warmth, your delectable tits in his mouth, your face contorted lewdly as pleasure wracks through the both of you. But you have a lifetime together now, endless time for him to play and ruin you any and every way he wants. So he focuses his attention solely back on you, releasing your nipple with a wet plop before leering down at you, a predatory razor sharp grin slicing across his handsome features, internally cooing at how you tighten around him as you nervously gulp. 

“Your breasts are delicious, love. Can’t wait until I knock you up and your tits swell with milk. Bet it’ll taste so good. Wonder if there’ll be enough for the kids and me. Maybe we can save some for any more baking experiments we try. Would you like that? Want me to turn you into a pretty cow housewife? Maybe I’ll just keep you in the kitchen with a breast pump attached to you when I’m busy with work. Turn you into just another piece of useful kitchen equipment.” 

This time he doesn’t hide his amusement at your expense when you respond by breathily chanting his name over and over again, telling him how close you are between little gasps and mewls as he continues pistoning in and out of your slick pussy, his pace increasing, rhythm beginning to rocket out of control as his own end becomes imminent. 

But he’ll be damned if he doesn’t wreck you first and he continues his verbal onslaught, low drawl teasing as he tells you what a slut you are for getting off on his humiliating words, praising you for how amazing you feel and look, like you were made for him, like you were made to be used and fucked by him, only him, for the rest of your life- 

Your wail cuts him off as you tumble over the edge, half screaming and sobbing as you’re forced to delirious heights and depths of pleasure you’ve never felt before, nails leaving wicked red marks in their wake as you claw at him out of pure instinct as he continues fucking in and out of you, losing any control and restraint he had as he chases his own end. Your pulsating walls milk his cock for all its worth and he groans, slamming fully into you one last time as he spills thick white spurts deep inside of you, 

And then there’s only quiet intermingled with the sounds of both your panting breaths as you bask in the afterglow, humming in content as Osamu slowly lowers himself, making your husband chuckle in surprise when you tighten your legs that are still wrapped around him when he threatens to pull out and lay down by your side. 

How can he deny that tired pout on your face as you silently nudge him back on top of you?

So he remains buried inside of you, letting himself be manhandled into laying on top of you and merely rolling his eyes fondly as you treat him like an oversized body pillow, your legs and now your arms wrapping around him, holding him tightly against you, uncaring of how the both of you are still covered in your combined messes. And as he watches you fall into a deep slumber, body exhausted, a blissed out smile on your face, he allows his own eyes to close shut, telling himself that he’d just clean the both of you up whenever he woke up, thankful that of all the people in the world that he could have been married off to, fate chose you.   

[bookstantrash]

A/N: I am so very sorry for not updating for so long. I know I said I’d try to update more frequently while I was on uni break but life happened lmao. Classes are back, but I’ll try not left y’all hanging for so long.

You can check here Pemberley’s Lake, Hooked on You, Smells like petrichor and paper, The Sound of Music and A Midsummer Night’s Dream, part one, two, three, four and five of my Nessian Pride and Prejudice AU.

That being said, I hope y’all enjoy this chapter! We got a little bit of fluff, sprinkles of angst and a lovely plot twist ✨

Bloody Day and Ominous letters

Nesta woke up with the worst headache she had ever had in her entire life. She really should not have drunk as much as she had last night but as she saw her friends and Morrigan having fun that little voice inside her head — usually her mother’s or grandmother's saying Do better, Stop being such a disappointment or Your only purpose is to marry well so forget about love — got louder and louder, judging her company and trying to make her feel ashamed.

But she had had enough. Her grandmother and mother had both passed away already. It was time to bury them for good. So Nesta took the wine bottle from Morrigan and drank half of it in one go, her friends cheering around her. And she had so much fun. Nesta would never have guessed that drinking could be so enjoyable, nothing like those uptight parties where the ladies sipped a lonely glass all night long while the gentleman lost count of theirs. The only downside was her killing headache and the fact that she had overslept, a fact she took notice of once she glanced at the wall clock.

She had just sat up on her bed —  massaging her temple to ease the tension on her head — when an insistent knocking on her door made her mumble a curse. No doubt it was either Emerie or Gwyn — maybe both of them — waking her up. Those two were quite used to drinking, so it was no surprise to Nesta that they would be up and about very early.

“Would you two stop it?” she said loudly, opening the door wearing only her chemise, probably having ditched her dress during the night while she slept “I have a killer headache and your banging is not helping at all—”

She stopped mid sentence when she came face to face with Georgianam, the young lady’s hand still raised to knock on her door, Cassian right behind her.

“Oh, I apologise Lady Nesta” Georgiana said “We had agreed that we would go on a nice early morning walk today, but when I did not spot Miss Archeron at the breakfast table I got worried.”

“Please do forgive me, Miss Georgiana. I had a bit too much to drink yesterday and ended up oversleeping.” Nesta quickly said, mentally kicking herself for her rudeness “I will be ready for our walk in a minute.”

“Lovely! I will be waiting at the parlor then!”

Nesta closed the door with a sigh. Her morning had not begun the best.

However, it was only while she was brushing her hair that her sleep fogged mind caught up to the fact that Cassian had seen her half asleep wearing nothing but her chemise and with early morning messy bed hair.

She definitely could not be allowed to drink more than two glasses of alcohol if that was how she was going to behave whenever she drank more than deemed proper.

When she arrived at the parlor ten minutes later, she could not help but avoid looking at Cassian.

“Mrs. Potts brought you a little something to eat” Georgiana informed, pouring Nesta tea “And also some headache medicine”

“Please thank her in my instead later, she is too kind to me”

“Oh, it was all my brother’s doing” Georgiana smiled in Cassian's direction, serving herself some cookies “He was the one who asked her to provide not only the medicine but also the food.”

“I appreciate the gesture, my lord.” Nesta hid her blush behind the teacup.

“It was nothing, my lady” was all he answered, refusing to look at her.

That made Nesta’s heart strangely hurt. She could not help but think he had been disgusted by her earlier appearance. Her hair was such a mess and her chemise was all wrinkled from sleep—

Wait. Why did she care so much of what he thought of her? Nesta Archeron was not one to give much attention to others opinion of herself, so why was she getting so worked up when it came to Cassian? Of course, one could not help but notice how he always looked so presentable, with his spotless clothes, hair combed to perfection every single time. She had never seen a gentleman’s hair be so… perfect. She could bet her first edition of her favourite romance that he had awfully handsome bed hair. And that he had a mint breath even when woke up. And that he probably slept shirtless, if the last time she saw him at midnight at his library was any indication of his sleeping attire.

Oh Mother, why was she now thinking about all of that? She waved an imaginary hand to disperse her not so proper thoughts, focusing on the small talk Georgiana was making.

Both Nesta and Cassian kept avoiding each other during their walk, which did not pass by Georgiana without notice, especially given how her brother had made sure to stay two steps behind them, giving the excuse he wanted to give both ladies “privacy to talk comfortably”, something he had never done. Their walk, however, was cut short when Nesta showed signs of being tired and admitted that her headache had not disappeared.

“I assure you it is nothing to fret over” Nesta told a worried Mrs. Potts when they came back “It must be from yesterday’s drinking. There is no need to call a doctor.”

“Nonetheless, I will ask Chef Ramsay to prepare some light food and my special hangover drink” the old headmaid said with a motherly expression.

Thanking Mrs. Potts again, Nesta went to her room to splash some water on her face in hopes of refreshing herself. But a painful jab low on her stomach made her freeze and the blood drain from her face.

~•~

“Just knock on the door, my Lord” Lumière said as he watched Cassian drop his hand once again. The maître d’ had been watching his lord pace in front of the parlor door for what must have been twenty minutes.

“I do not want to bother her. Maybe I should call Mrs. Potts or wait until the other ladies come back” Cassian ran his hand through his hair in distress. Emerie and Balthazar had gone out with Morrigan to visit some possible new business partners — her big circle of connections proving itself to be very useful in helping expand their business — while Azriel and Gwyn had gone to the town, which was helding a small music festival. Georgiana, on the other hand, had received a telegram from a friend who had returned early from their trip abroad, and she had promptly gone to meet them.

“This, dear brother, is your chance to speak to Miss Nesta” she had said before leaving “I do not know what happened to make you both so distant, but you better make amends. I already asked Emerie to design the gown I shall wear at your wedding.”

Cassian had told Georgie to mind her own business and stop being such a busybody, proceeding to stand guard outside the parlor.

“Leave the lord alone” Cogsworth hissed, elbowing Lumiére “Her ladyship has not asked for help so it must mean she is fine and does not wish to be bothered.”

“Nonsense, old friend!! The lady is simply too shy to ask for it and the lord too polite to risk disturbing her” taking a step forward, Lumière knocked on the door.

“What do you think you are doing?!” the major-domo whisper yelled, and Cassian was sure he would have throttled Lumière were it not for the faint voice coming from the other side.

“Please, do come in” Nesta said.

Taking a deep breath, Cassian opened the door, leaving behind Cogsworth and Lumière, who were trying very hard not to start a duel right there.

The first thing he looked for was Nesta.

Nesta, who was rather pale and was clutching a pillow very hard against her stomach.

“Are you alright?” he asked, not knowing whether to sit beside her or just stay standing a few feet away.

“I am” she said, although the deep breath she took had him thinking it was not true “Where are Gwyn and Emerie?”

“Gwyn went to the town festival with Azriel. An Emerie went with Mor and Balthazar to meet prospective business partners.”

“Are you really alright Nesta?” he asked again “You do not seem fine at all if I may say.”

“I assure you I am perfectly fine” Nesta insisted through clenched teeth “Where is Georgiana?”

“At a friend’s house. They returned early from a trip.” Cassian said, a bit annoyed she was asking for his sister when he was right there. It was a stupid jealous feeling, and he was not even more annoyed because he felt glad they got on so well.

“Do you know when any of them will be back?”

“I am afraid I do not know” daring to approach her, Cassian sat beside her on the sofa “But I am here. If there is anything I could do…”

“There is no need to bother yourself. I truly am—”

And that was when Nesta whimpered and clutched her pillow even tighter, doubling over a little bit.

“You are definitely far from fine sweetheart” Cassian said, rubbing her back in hopes of helping her, nevermind proper etiquette.

“It is really nothing. Just—”

“Just what?”

“Lady stuff!!” Nesta finally said, her whole face heating up like a fireplace.

“Oh. Oh! I see. I— I understand” he said, also a little bit flustered “Not that I actually get it but I have also experienced pain and—”

Nesta wished the ground would open up and swallow her. She was used to getting her period, it was a monthly occurrence. Nothing out of the ordinary. However, this time it seemed her body had decided to punish her more than usual. Not only had she gotten a killer headache — made worse by her hangover —  but she was cramping very badly, and they usually were not that bad. That was why she had gone to that walk with Georgiana, even though she was getting mildly uncomfortable soon after they arrived at the garden.

Not that she did not want to miss any Cassian time.

Him going with them had been a bonus.

A surprise, but not a pleasant one.

Maybe just a bit pleasant if she was being honest. Just a tiny tiny bit.

“I will stop talking now” Cassian mumbled, interrupting not for the first time her errant thoughts.

She wanted to die. To tell Cassian — even indirectly —  that she had gotten her period was the most mortifying she had ever experienced.

“I can get Mrs. Potts for you” he tentatively said, restarting the back rubs “She can get you some tea for pain. Or a bag of warm water. You can tell her anything, do not worry.”

Nesta managed to nod her head in agreement, despite her stubborn side that refused to ask for help from the maids or other servants at Pemberley.

Cassian himself went looking for the head maid instead of just ringing for her, assuring her he would be back in less than ten minutes. And he did come back in record time with Mrs. Potts, who gave her tea and pain tonic that she assured Nesta made wonders for stopping cramps. All the while Cassian hovered over Mrs. Potts, unsure of what to do.

“Do you require anything else? Maybe another blanket?” he asked after Mrs. Potts had left. He had made sure to bring back a blanket too and had even tucked her in with extra care “Or more tea? I can ask someone to come and bring fresh hot tea”

Nesta would never have imagined Cassian to be such an overbearing mother hen. He was being extra careful around her and it annoyed her beyond reason.

“Cassian, this happens every month. Has been happening since I was thirteen, alright? Can you please stop?” she snapped.

She regretted her words as soon as she realised how rude she had been and what exactly she had said. However, he was being so overweening. As if she was made of glass or was on her deathbed.

Yet all Cassian did was crack a smile and nudge a chocolate muffin towards her. Nesta had been in such pain and so quiet he had been concerned if Mrs. Potts’ pain tonic would really work. But there she was.

There was the feisty, sharp tongued and quick-witted Nesta he knew.

There was the Nesta he fell in love with.

He barely held his tongue back and risked blutering his feelings right in front of her. Again.

“May I get you a book then? It is a good way to pass the time until your friends are back.”

“Thank you. That would be lovely” Nesta gave him a soft smile, her previous embarrassment having died down a little.

He was gone and back in a record time, and Nesta delusioned herself into thinking he had raced to the library because he did not want to leave her for too long.

“I got the book you were not able to finish last night” Cassian said, handing her Sellyn Drake’s latest romance “And I also took the liberty of getting one of my favourites too. In case you finish this one quickly.”

She thanked him again, curious as to what book was his favourite, what made her even eager to finish her current read.

Turns out Cassian was a fan of epic poems, a fact that — combined with his admission of having read Sellyn Drake’s romances — once again made Nesta view him with new eyes. She had thought he would be more of a war strategy person, all business and serious matters. Yet it seemed that Cassian had a dreamer inside of him.

“How many times have you read this book?” Nesta asked as she turned a yellowed page. The book was old, but she could see it was very loved given its good condition.

“A lot of times. It was my favourite book as a child, and I could not part with it once I moved out of my childhood home” he gave her a smile “It was also my dear companion during long expeditions. I have most of it memorized.”

“I bet you charmed every single lady during your travels with your knowledge, wooing them with beautiful words” she teased, despite the small pang of jealousy in her heart.

You refused his hand and humiliated him, she thought, you have no place to feel jealous. Cassian is a wonderful gentleman, it is expected to have women falling left and right for him, not to say him pursuing them.

“You are actually the first person apart from my family who knows that I read poetry” Cassian admitted “And I also have never met someone that made me want to declare a poem to”

Nesta did not know what to say to that. They were bordering dangerous territory, something that seemed to happen more and more frequently.

And Cassian, seated right beside her, was thinking the same thing. He had allowed himself to get closer to him again, something that yesterday he had vowed to avoid, had tried to do that morning. But to see her in pain, uncomfortable and not talking to him hurt more than those moments in which he could see a life with her. Those moments with Nesta were a double edged sword: he craved and loathed them with the same urgency.

He would kill to have even a single moment with her.

He would die if he had even a single moment with her.

Nesta made him want to be selfish.

Made him want to declare poems to her, maybe even attempt to write her one.

At the moment, he could not help but recall a certain verse of the Epic of Gilgamesh:

What could I offer

the queen of love in return, who lacks nothing at all?

Balm for the body? The food and drink of the gods?

I have nothing to give to her who lacks nothing at all.

You are the door through which the cold gets in.

You are the fire that goes out. You are the pitch

that sticks to the hands of the one who carries the bucket.

You are the house that falls down. You are the shoe

that pinches the foot of the wearer. The ill-made wall

that buckles when time has gone by. The leaky

water skin soaking the water skin carrier.

To Cassian, Nesta was the goddess of love. And he was the one who could not offer her a single thing for she lacked nothing.

“Well, I will not disturb your reading any longer” clearing his throat to break the new tense silence between them, Cassian gestured to the book in her hand “But do feel free to make comments while you read, I would very much like to hear your opinions about it.”

And she did just that. Every passage she found interesting, each line that caught her eye and interpretation she had about a certain phrase, she shared them all with Cassian. Somewhere during their conversation that awkward tension between them disappeared completely, with Cassian letting his arm rest on the back of the couch, getting closer to Nesta. And Nesta somehow ended up getting closer to him too, almost leaning on his side.

It was all very improper. Cassian staying alone with Nesta, so close to each other and acting as a married couple.

But Cassian would let himself be selfish one last time.

One last time before they had to go their separate ways.

~•~

The day would have ended perfectly were it not for the letter that Gwyn brought once she and Azriel had come back.

While Emerie, Balthazar and Mor had arrived late in the evening — with good news of new partnerships being agreed on —  Gwyn and Azriel had come back much later, just when everyone had finished dinner. Nesta had not been too worried, she trusted Azriel to take care of Gwyn and her friend was not bound by the stifling high society etiquette, but she breathed a little easier when they finally arrived.

“Oh Nesta, we passed by the inn we were staying at before and the landlady gave me a letter addressed to you. It seems she had forgotten to send it to us yesterday when our things were brought here.” Gwyn gave her the letter once they had moved to the game room “She apologised deeply for it.”

“I understand, it is a busy season for them.”

“It is a letter from Feyre” Nesta furrowed her brows in confusion as she broke the letter’ seal, which she recognized as being the one representing Feyre’ status as Duchess “She sent one barely a week ago, I wonder what could have happened.”

Nesta had guessed it would be another letter from Feyre asking about how their trip was going, if she had seen beautiful scenarios and bought any souvenir for her youngest sister. Or even a curious inquiry about what she thought of Cassian. Feyre had been quite interested to know if they got along — she had always been a busybody and matchmaker, and since marrying Rhysand had tried time and time again to nonchalantly push her to Cassin. If she ever discovered that Nesta had already been proposed by Cassian — and that she had refused his hand — chaos would befall upon Nesta.

However, as her eyes scanned the lines, Nesta’s assumptions of its contents proved to be far away from reality. She felt her blood run cold, her heart stop beating and fear. So much fear.

“Excuse me” she managed to say, getting up “I need a moment.”

“Nesta, are you alright? What did Feyre say? You are very pale” Gwyn said, her voice full of worry.

“I am fine. Just cramps” she brushed off her friend’s worries. She did not want to make the others notice that something was off with her, she did not want to alarm Gwyn..

Yet as she exited the room she failed to perceive that Cassian had been paying attention to her ever since Gwyn gave her the letter. He was always paying attention to his surroundings, especially when she was around.

He left the room a few moments after her, trying not to raise suspicion to his attitude. He did not know where she had gone — Pemberley was vast and her room was too far away for him to not have caught her faster — but something led him to the small outdoor patio just left from the small gallery he had at Pemberley.

As he got closer and closer there, he heard the sound of someone crying, which made his heart beat faster and a deep fear grow inside him.

He arrived outside to find an unimaginable scene: Nesta crying. Crying as if her heart had been ripped out of her chest.

She was a mess, her careful braided hair coming undone, as if she had ran her hands through it in desperation.

“Nesta… Nes dear, what happened? Is Feyre alright?” Cassian did not care that she most probably left the room to cry in private. He was worried, he needed to be beside her, he needed to help her somehow.

“I— Feyre she—” she was sobbing so hard she could barely breathe, let alone talk, making Cassian’s heart break in a thousand pieces.

“Shh it’s okay sweetheart. I am here Nes” he gently cupped her face, making her look at him “Take deep breaths with me.”

He took a deep breath, holding it in for three seconds before letting it go. He kept doing it until Nesta did the same, slowly calming down.

“Can you talk now? Do you want me to fetch you some water?” Cassian asked, tenderly brushing off her remaining tears.

“No, I— I can talk now” Nesta took another breath “Feyre is alright. It is Elain.”

“Elain? Is she sick? Talk to me Nes, help me understand”

Elain was the picture of the perfect lady in high society. With her numerous suitors, lovely and delicate behaviour — not to mention her singular beauty — it was hard to find someone who did not like her. Given that her hobbies — cooking and gardening — did not pose a threat to her health and well being, Cassian could not understand what would have made Nesta react so strongly. Perhaps Elain had fallen ill, something that rarely happened.

“No. She is not sick” Nesta shook her head “Cauldron, I almost wished she was sick.”

“Elain was…. Elain was kidnapped” she added, her eyes filling with tears again.

“Kidnapped? How?”

That made no sense, who would kidnap Elain? And why?

“She was going to visit Feyre. And when she didn't show up Rhysand went to search for her and—” Nesta started to cry, desperation filling her voice “They found her carriage turned over and hidden near the outskirts of the city. No sign of her at all.”

Cassian was speechless. He could only imagine how Feyre must be feeling after she got the news and hoped Rhysand was doing his everything to help find Elain.

“The coachman was killed and her lady in waiting was rushed to the hospital.” she cried even harder “This is all my fault. I should never have left her. We have no male relatives and Feyre is living too far from our childhood home. I was supposed to take care of her.”

“Nesta, it is not your fault. You could never have guessed something like this could happen.” he looked deep in her eyes, the blue in them even brighter because of her tears “Is there anything I could do to help?”

“I am afraid there isn’t, '' she whispered “I have to go back home. Try to hire an investigator, talk to Feyre and hope Elain is not disgraced by society rumors. Hope she is alive”

Cassian could only nod in agreement and wait for Nesta to recompose herself before they went back inside. Their friends were as horrified and worried about the situation as he and Nesta, and decided to go back right that moment. The staff noticed something was amiss and made sure to ready the carriage in record time.

“Thank you for welcoming you at your home” Nesta said, her complexion a bit better “I can assure you we all had a wonderful time here.”

“It was my pleasure. Have a safe travel and remember that Pemberey is open to you and your friends whenever you want to visit” Cassian helped Nesta get on her carriage one last time, letting go of her hand begrudgingly.

And as Nesta and her friends got farther and farther from Pemberley, as Nesta got farther and farther away from him and took his heart with her, Cassian felt a calm fury settle inside him.

He had some letters to write to some old friends.

•

Tag list: @sayosdreams @thewayshedreamed @sjm-things @perseusannabeth @arinbelle @caotica-e-quieta @vidalinav @swankii-art-teacher @ireallyshouldsleeprn @duskandstarlight @d0riansgray @thegoddessaltenia @dayanna-hatter @verypaleninja @awesomelena555 @courtofjurdan @valkyriewarriors @moe8 @illyrianwitchling13 @silvernesta @bri-loves-sunflowers @queenestarcheron @imwritingthesewords @vasudharaghavan @rainbowcheetah512 @darkshadowqueensrule @letstakethedawn @starlightorstarfire @city-of-fae @thalia-2-rose @nestaarcher0n @rowaelinismyotp @julemmaes @dontgetsalmonella @cardansgreenbriars @lysandra-tiara @inardour @hikari274 @fatimafares123 @angelina-figjam @castielspelvis @lanyjoy-13 @18moneytoad @booksstorm @terrible-and-proud @illyrianundercover​ @ladygabrielli1997 @loosingdreams @live-the-fangirl-life @moodymelanist

{Please let me know if you’d like to be added to my Fixed Tag list}

Reblogs are always welcomed!!

[chaoticpuff17]

When the Chips are Down

part 9

masterlist

The next day came much too slowly. Y/N hated bed rest, and the constantly squirming future futbol star in her belly didn’t make finding a comfortable position easy. Namjoon also didn’t make bed rest any easier. The man was an expert at hovering. When he said bed rest, he meant bed rest. He didn’t let her so much as get up to use the bathroom by herself. Supposedly if she was up for even a moment without him watching, she and the baby would go into distress again. Perhaps on someone else the hovering would have been sweet, but it was Namjoon, and all she wanted to do was throttle him. She restrained herself though, if only for the sake of their new deal and the fact she wasn’t sure she could beat him in a fight with her belly so big. 

“You should really eat something.” He sighed, fully dressed and ready for the day as he sat beside her watching her pick at the food on the tray that Miss In had brought up for breakfast. “It’s good for the baby.” 

“I’m aware.” she shot back dryly, as she continued to poke at the food in distaste instead of eating it. 

“Just a little.” he tried to conceal a smile, finding her little frown adorable, even if he couldn’t allow her petulant refusal to eat in the mornings. There was only a few weeks left until the baby arrived, and he wanted them both to be as strong and healthy as possible. 

She turned to him, looking both tired and completely unimpressed. “I’m not a child, Namjoon.” 

“I know that, jagi, but the baby…” 

She took a deep breath, counting to ten to keep her temper in check. Mornings had been rough for her for the majority of the pregnancy. Morning sickness that was meant to go away half way through the pregnancy lingered, and true to its name, it liked to hit her in the morning. 

“I am aware that there’s a baby. I’m the one whose organs it's using as a punching bag. I know what I’m doing.” 

“Just a little. Please.” he did his best to keep his own temper in check, knowing full well that their truce was still fragile, but he was only trying to look out for them. 

“Fine.” she growled, gritting her teeth.

“Thank you.” he leaned over, pressing a kiss to her temple with a smile. “The new doctor will be stopping by today to check on you and the baby. I’m sorry I can’t be there for it, but I need to get things in order before the baby comes.” 

She nodded, taking a reluctant bite of breakfast. “That’s fine.” 

“Your sister will be here though.” 

She perked up at that. “Iyla?” 

He smiled, relieved to see her something other than ornery. “I thought you would like to have her with you, and I did promise you could see her today.” He loved the bright smile that spread over her features. He only wished that she would smile like that for him once in a while. “Jin will be coming by as well, just to make sure that everything is in order with the new doctor.” 

“No shooting this one.” she grumbled, taking another small bite. 

“No shooting.” he promised. 

After breakfast, where he forced her to choke down a minimal amount of porridge despite her still tender stomach, Namjoon was off to work, and she was more than happy to see him go. It gave her freedom to attempt sneaking her way out of bed, a plan that was quickly squashed by Miss In who had a gaggle of maids constantly checking up on her if she wasn’t there herself. She wanted to be dressed in something other than pajamas, but that apparently wasn’t going to happen. 

“Y/N!” a wonderfully familiar voice called right before the ball of energy that was her sister came barrelling into her, smooshing them both back against the pillows. 

“Hey, Iya.” she whispered, squeezing her sister tight and ignoring Hoseok who lingered at the door. “We’re fine, Hoseok. I’m sure Namjoon needs you for something or another.” the man didn’t move. “There are guards everywhere, and Miss In checks in every twenty minutes it seems. Do you really want to be here for my check up?” 

“Probably not.” he shrugged, smiling slightly. “I’ll wait till the kid’s born to coo over pictures.” He turned a sharp eye to Iyla who was still curled tightly around her sister. “I’ll be back later to pick you up, okay?” she didn’t say anything, and Hoseok sighed tiredly before making his exit. “Good luck with the check up.”

Both women waited for Hoseok to leave before they said anything else. 

“You’re okay right?” her sister pulled back, scanning her over once they were both sure Hoseok was gone. “You were so upset when I left, and you had pain in your belly. Is the baby okay?” 

“Baby is fine, but are you okay?” she lifted her hands up, gently cupping her face. “Hoseok didn’t hurt you at all?” 

She shook her head, causing a few stray strands to fall out of the bun that sat messily on top of her head. “I’m fine. He’s not the most pleasant,” she grimaced. “But he didn’t hurt me.”

“Good. That's good.”  she flopped back onto the mattress in relief. “So what are we doing today?” 

“I’m on bed rest.” the news was met with a sympathetic ‘oof’ from her sister. “But the new doctor is coming today to do a check up, so you’ll probably get to see the ultrasound.” 

“New doctor?” Iyla propped herself up on her elbows. “What happened to the old doctor?” 

“Namjoon shot her.” 

“And I thought mine was bad.” she huffed, laying back down. “Are we better or worse off than with Marcus?” she turned looking at her sister with a serious expression that wasn’t typical of her. 

Y/N sighed, settling herself back against the pillows as well. That really was the question. Were they better off? She’d told Namjoon that he was worse than Marcus, but was it actually true or had she just said it to rile him? 

“Well, I’m not getting beat up every other day.” she offered weakly. 

“Y/N.” 

“I made a deal.” she admitted, resting a hand over her belly. 

“What kind of deal did you make?” 

“They can’t hurt us. They can’t do anything that Marcus did, and I arranged for him to let Mark, the guy who helped me escape, go unharmed. The catch is we can’t leave, or at least I can’t. I made no such promise for you. If you find a window, you take it.” 

“I’m not leaving you here alone!” she argued, sitting up and glaring at her sister. “If I’m leaving, I’m taking you and the peanut with me.” 

“I can’t.” she shook her head sadly. “I’ve gotten out of here twice, and neither was without help, and both times ended badly. I got Jackson killed, Iya.” 

“We run together. We go back to the states!”

“We don’t have phones. We don’t have passports.” 

“We get to the embassy!” 

Y/N shook her head. “We have no way of getting to Seoul. You’d have a much better chance of getting out of here without dragging a pregnant lady with you, and how exactly do you think we’re going to get out of here? There are guards everywhere, and I don’t think  Namjoon is going to be taking any chances with the baby due in a few weeks.” 

“We have to try!” 

“If I leave the deal is broken, and there is no protection for either of us. If you have a chance to go, you take it, and you don’t look back.” 

“I can’t leave you here!” she cried. “Are you insane!” 

“Your sister has a point.” a new voice called from the door pulling both of their attention to Sen who stood there with her little boy perched on her hip. “But even if you have a chance it won’t end well for you. Hoseok isn’t a man to cross. He can be sweet if he wants to, but there’s a whole lot of crazy behind that sunshiney exterior. You’re safer here where you have family to look out for you.” 

“And who are you?” Iyla growled, protectively scooting closer to her sister. 

“This is Sen.” Y/N placed a calm hand on Iyla’s shoulder. “She’s Yoongi’s wife, not by choice.”

“What’s she doing here?”

“Came to check in on you and the baby.” 

“You’re not needed.” 

“She’s a friend.” Y/N scolded, lightly smacking Iyla’s shoulder. “Don’t be rude.” 

“Well, then we take her too!” Iyal conceded, already getting fired up again.

“Right.” both older women scoffed. 

“How are you planning to sneak you, me, a baby, and a pregnant lady out of here?” Sen asked arching an elegant brow. “I’m not risking Yoonho. Taehyung might be busy with his girl, but he has eyes everywhere, and I’m betting Hoseok had Jin stick one of Taehyng’s trackers in you just like Yoongi did me. They’re a little paranoid if you hadn’t noticed. Two out of seven have had pregnant women slip away from them. Apparently, it’s a little traumatizing.” 

That shut Iyla right up, if only for a moment. “We can take the trackers out!” Her voice was more frantic now as she grasped at straws.

“Done that.” Y/N grimaced at the memory. “It wasn’t a pleasant experience.” 

“We can’t do nothing!” 

“You’re not doing nothing.” Sen assured her. “You’re keeping your head down and keeping safe.” 

“I can’t risk any more travel with the baby.” Y/N added softly. “I almost went into labor yesterday. But you’re safe so long as I keep up my end of the deal.” 

“What about you?” Iyla insisted, gaze heated as her eyes darted between the two older women. “You’re content to just sit here and play house?” 

“I’d rather you be safe.” Y/N took her little sister’s hand in hers. “I won’t have you go through what I went through with Marcus, and at least this way, you have some level of protection.” 

“It’s not fair!” 

“I know.” she agreed softly. “But it’s the best I can do for now.” 

“Namjoon’s not going to hurt her.” Sen promised. “He went crazy when she was gone. He might be a raging psychopath, but he has some sort of twisted love for your sister. So long as she and the baby are here with him, she’ll be okay.” 

“That doesn’t make me feel better.” 

“It’s the best we can do.” 

“What’s the best you can do?” Jin asked, popping into the room with a rather pale looking Hayan trailing behind him. “Good to see you again, Iyla. How’s the arm?” he asked, nodding towards the arm where he’d inserted the chip. 

“Great.” she hissed, glaring at him. “What’s the quack doing here?” 

“I’m offended! I offered to play Narts with you!” 

“Quack.” She grumbled, scooting even closer to her sister.

“He’s here for the appointment, Iya.” 

Jin perked up, turning his attention to the very pregnant woman. “And how is our gorgeous mom to be today?” 

“I’d be a whole lot better if I wasn’t on bed rest.” 

Jin laughed, and Hayan made her way over to the bed, perching on the edge and sending Y/N a small attempt at a smile. “Just for a few days. It’ll put all our minds at ease after the scare you gave us yesterday and all the stress Namjoon’s put you through.” 

“Hi, Hayan. You doing okay?” the other woman nodded slightly, but it was clear to everyone in the room she was still shaken. 

“I wanted her to stay home and rest, but she wanted to see how you were doing.” Jin sighed dramatically. “It’s my lot in life to be surrounded by gorgeous stubborn women.” 

“How’s the baby?” Hayan asked, voice soft. 

“Kicking.” 

“Kicking is good.” Jin nodded. “The new doctor should be here soon, and then we should be able to take a proper look at you and baby. Are all you ladies staying for the check up?” It was a question addressed to all of them, but they all knew that it was Y/N who was meant to answer. 

“As long as no one but the doctor is checking things down there, we’re fine.” 

“Okay.” Jin clapped his hands together. “I am going to ask that everyone who isn’t Iyla go sit over there, except you.” he reached out, lifting Yoonho right out of Sen’s arms. “You get to stay with Uncle Jinnie, spend some time away from stinky old Yoongi.” 

The little boy stared at him, completely unimpressed looking so much like his father before he started fussing for absolutely no reason, reaching up with one chubby little fist to roughly grab a lock of Jin’s hair and yanking. 

“Ow! Okay! Okay!” Jin handed the baby back. “Not today then. He gets more like his dad every day.” he huffed, pouting as yoonho settled back into his mother’s arms. 

“He cries for Yoongi too.” Sen offered as a consolation, bouncing the baby lightly. “He’s a momma’s boy.” 

“More like his dad every day.” Jin muttered again, shaking his head sadly. 

“Buin.” Miss In called from the door. “The doctor has arrived.” the woman stepped aside to reveal a different woman dressed professionally with her hair neatly pinned to the top of her head. 

“Buin.” the woman bowed respectfully. “I’m Dr. Yang. I’ll be taking over your prenatal and postnatal care.” 

“Dr. Yang.” she greeted eyeing the woman warily. 

Miss In had done a wonderful job of cleaning the master bedroom and at record speed as well, but the memory of what had happened just the other day was still fresh in everyone’s minds. 

She could tell just by looking at the woman, it was going to be a long day. 

part 10

[lumelii]

THANK YOU ~|~ NANAMI X FEM!READER

Summary: Tensions are high in the Nanami household. Outside influence (and bribery) are needed.

Content warnings: slight angst, child-parent relations, singledad!Nanami

Note: This is my first fic on this blog, so let me know what you think! Big thanks to Moni for beta-reading this for me <3

word count: 2.0k

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

“I hate you!”

Nanami couldn’t stop his flinch as Yuuji slammed the door to his room behind him. He didn’t have the energy now to scold him for slamming his door. Instead, he heaved a deep sigh and walked back down their small hallway to the living room to collapse on the couch. The bottle of whisky safely locked away in the cabinet above the fridge called to him but he resisted the urge. When Yuuji finally came out, he wanted to be completely sober so they could sit down and talk this out.

He could have left the apartment right now, found Gojou, and throttled him after choking him on those concert tickets. Whatever had possessed him to think two twelve-year-old boys could go out by themselves in the middle of the night to the show of a band whose music was far too mature for them anyway, Nanami didn’t know, and he guessed Toji didn’t know about it either. Otherwise the idea wouldn’t have left the Fushiguro house.

As soon as Yuuji had seen those tickets, it was the only thing he could talk about, filling their daily walk home from his school with his excited chatter. Nanami listened as intently as he could while trying to push all thoughts of work out of his head, putting all focus on his son. But when he heard just what band the boys were planning on seeing, the conversation had deteriorated to the point where Yuuji had begun yelling at his father, uttering those final three words before entombing himself in his room.

Nanami had resisted the pull to argue right back with Yuuji, but a thirty-something year old man arguing with his twelve-year-old son was downright ridiculous, and he had to take the high road in situations like this. Even despite his outburst, Nanami would not budge. Yuuji wouldn’t be allowed to go to the concert, and he would go so far as to call Toji and suggest he do the same with Megumi. He wasn’t afraid to be the bad guy if it meant his family was safe.

A sudden knock startled him from his reflection to look at the front door. He wasn’t expecting anyone to stop by, and he hadn’t buzzed anyone into the apartment. His heart quickened unwillingly at the rising probability of who it could be.

His suspicions were confirmed when he finally opened the door and saw you, his very sweet, very attractive next-door neighbor standing there, a smile crossing your face when he finally appeared. He tried not to focus on how your shirt clung perfectly to your curves, or your jeans, though stained with something he guessed was peanut butter, emphasized your small waist and shapely legs. Your dog helped him focus, distracting him from your form as he curiously watched it lick a spot of peanut butter from your jeans.

“Sorry, he snuck out the door with me as I was leaving.” Your smile grew sheepish as you held up a plate filled with treats. “Sounded like you both were having a rough day. But I guess now’s not the best time?”

“No, please, come in.” Nanami stepped aside and allowed you and your companion to enter. “We’ve just had a long day.”

The large dog plodded down the apartment’s small hallway and stopped at Yuuji’s door, pawing at it once with a whine. The door opened just enough for the animal to slip through before it slammed shut again.

“Is everything alright?” The look of genuine concern on your face made his heart tighten just for a moment while you sat on the couch together. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, he’s upset I won’t let him go to the Raising Dead concert with Megumi by themselves.” Nanami sighed. “Unless I change all my beliefs in the next week, he still won’t be going.”

“Raising Dead?” Your eyes went unimaginably wide. “My mom wouldn’t let me even see them when I was 18. They’re a little…mature aren’t they? For someone Yuuji’s age? How did he even hear about them?”

“Exactly why I won’t allow him to go.” Nanami pointed out. “His best friend Megumi got the tickets from his,” he paused for a moment to consider how he could explain the relationship, “uncle. I guess they listen to the band together.”

“Well, I think you’re making the right decision, not that my opinion matters.” Your smile was soft as you rested a hand on his arm, making his skin burn in your wake. “I heard they rip heads off of chickens at their concerts.”

Your opinion is the only one that matters. He bit back the words and cleared his throat, shifting so your hand fell off his arm, but your touch still lingered. “It doesn’t change the fact that Yuuji is upset with me. He wanted the opportunity to go with his friend, and I stopped him from doing that.”

You considered this, looking toward the door to Yuuji’s room. “Do you want me to try to talk to him?”

“He’s pretty upset. Do you think he’d want to talk to you?”

“I could try. I had an overprotective parent too.” You grinned as he scoffed at your remark.

“I’m not overprotective.” Nanami frowned at her.

“You were one scraped knee away from sending him to kindergarten wrapped in bubble wrap for the rest of the year.”

“He kept getting hurt.”

You rolled your eyes at him, but there was no malice as you paired it with a soft smile. Standing, you grabbed the plate of cookies off the table and started walking towards Yuuji’s door. He followed you, leaning against the wall where Yuuji wouldn’t be able to see him if he didn’t open his door fully. He watched as you took a deep breath before knocking softly. “Yuuji? I made cookies. Do you want some?”

There was silence for several moments before Yuuji’s voice finally came from the other side.

“What kind?” He sounded muffled.

“Peanut butter chocolate chip.”

Another silent moment passed, then his door opened just enough to let his arm through, feeling around blindly for the treats. You held the plate just out of his reach when he was about to touch the edge.

“If you want them, you have to let me in.”

Yuuji considered this, his arm going limp before retreating completely just as his door opened a fraction more. “Just you.” He emphasized.

You turned to him with a small smile and squeezed your way into his room, the door finally closing softly for once this afternoon.

Nanami started to take a step forward to listen, but hesitated at the last minute. Although he had just denied it with his neighbor, he was overprotective, and that side of him screamed to listen in so he could know how Yuuji was, but it was clear he needed his space. If Yuuji found out he had been eavesdropping, that would only make it worse.

He forced himself to walk away, changing out of his work clothes into a t-shirt and going into the kitchen to start making dinner while they talked. He turned on an instrumental playlist, not wanting to deal with lyrics while he was so deep in thought, his mind occupied with his son and the problem he was currently facing at work.

About an hour later (and several shameless tiptoes down the squeaky hall to see if you two were still talking), Nanami looked up to see you and Yuuji turning the corner into the living room/kitchen area. Yuuji kept his eyes on the carpet, kicking it with his socked toe while you looked between the two males expectantly. When Yuuji didn’t say anything, you elbowed him as a prompt. He looked up at Nanami for a second then back down at his feet.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled.

“For?” You said before Nanami could respond.

“For yelling at you. I was upset. I want to go to the concert with Megumi. But if it’s not safe, I’ll listen.” He spoke as if he were reciting a speech, but finally looked up at Nanami with an intense stare. “I still want to go though.”

“And?”

Yuuji lost some of his steel and looked back down. “And I don’t hate you.”

Nanami looked at you for a second, wondering what magic you had worked to get his stubborn almost-teenager to actually speak like an adult instead of yelling at him again. When you pointed and mouthed ‘All him’ behind Yuuji’s back, he took a deep breath and looked back at his son.

“I know you still want to go. But it’s not safe. Especially with you two going by yourself. If you find something else you want to go to, that’s not that band, then I’ll take you and Megumi.”

Yuuji looked like was about to start arguing again, but you cleared your throat and gave him a meaningful look when he glanced over at you. He relented with a sigh and a nod.

Now that was over with, Nanami walked around the counter and hugged Yuuji, placing a kiss on the top of his head. Yuuji hugged him back willingly before they both turned their attention back to you. “Would you like to stay for dinner?” The blond man asked.

You shook your head. “I should really go back home, I have to finish up a lot of chores I’ve been putting off.”

“Please stay.” Yuuji grabbed your arm. “I’ll help you tomorrow.”

“You have your own chores to do, Yuuji. And homework.” Nanami reminded him.

His son ignored him and held your arm tighter. “Please?”

Yuuji’s pleading won out, and after staying and having a jovial dinner of katsudon with the two men, you all sat on the couch to watch a movie of Yuuji’s choosing, one he promptly fell asleep to, his head on Nanami’s chest as he drooled on his shirt. The father looked at you, watching the screen intently as you tried to decipher who just was the killer in the murder mystery, sipping a cup of tea carefully.

You’d never know just how much he loved you. So he settled with the obvious for now.

“Thank you.” Nanami whispered over Yuuji’s head.

You turned to look at him, your brows still drawn together in confusion as if you didn’t know what he was thanking you for. When he nodded down to Yuuji’s sleeping form, you raised your eyebrows in acknowledgment and looked back to the TV screen.

“I didn’t do anything that wouldn’t have happened eventually.” You told him as you took a sip of tea. “He adores you, he wouldn’t have stayed mad for long.”

“Did he say anything?”

“I don’t want to betray his trust.” You admitted.

“Fair enough.” Nanami relented. “Would you tell me, though, if he needed anything?”

You smiled and nodded. “Always. Yuuji comes first.”

He thought he noticed a hint of sadness in your eyes at your words, but you were already up and gathering your empty dish before it registered. “Thank you for dinner. It was delicious.” You leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of Yuuji’s head, and with just the slightest hesitation, one on Nanami’s cheek. He felt his face catch fire as soon as your lips touched his skin, tingles emanating from where your lips made contact. He barely registered your own cheeks burning red as well as you started walking towards the door. “Come on, Koro.”

The woman and dog finally disappeared, leaving Nanami and Yuuji alone in their apartment. Once he carried Yuuji to bed and read a few chapters of his current book, he turned off the light and laid back staring up in the dark. No matter how hard he tried, his mind wouldn’t succumb to sleep. He kept thinking of you, not just your shared moment tonight, but every moment of the entire seven years you had known each other, memories he analyzed and went through with a fine-toothed comb each night before he fell asleep. Had he built up the glances the way you touched his hand, how you chose to spend your time with them rather than by yourself or with others? How you cared for Yuuji like her own, willing to help whenever you could? Were the feelings lying just beneath his carefully constructed surface genuine, ready to burst forth at any moment?

Were you in your bed, doing the same, thinking of him?

tags: @oikawaandkuroostan

[dracosathenaeum]

Soulmates i

Summary: Fate was cruel enough to make your soulmate Draco Malfoy

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,320

Every witch and wizard once at the age of 16 will be eligible for a soulmate, this was common knowledge. Once the both of you are of age, when you first connect eyes with them, their name is printed onto your right wrist. It is cruel though; you could’ve met them any day before your 16th birthday but would never know until you met them again.

The Triwizard tournament wasn’t just for fun, but for soulmates to meet too. It was all everyone would talk during 5th year, the anticipation clear the second they stepped onto platform 9 and 3/4.

Every young witch had dreamed about the day they locked eyes with their soulmate across the great hall, or in a lesson. Usually 70-80% of witches and wizards found their soulmates during their school years, only a few were unlucky enough to have to spend their adult years searching too.

The most famous couple to date? James and Lily Potter, the Hogwarts sweethearts who died to save their son, what greater love story was there? Well other than Salazar Slytherin and Helga Hufflepuff or was it Salazar and Godric? The history books weren’t so clear about that.

Unfortunately for you, your birthday was in August during the school holidays and so it wasn’t until you returned to Hogwarts during your 6th year that you would get to meet your soulmate. You had spent all of 5thyear watching most of your year group pair off and get all lovey dovey, you were more jealous than anything, that you could admit.

Now two months into your 6th year, you stood next to your broom, ready for your match against Slytherin. You weren’t by any means a child prodigy, you just enjoyed Quidditch and practised hard enough to be able to make the team by 3rd year. Watching from the side-lines as your team got thrashed every year wasn’t enough for you, if Slytherin were willing to play dirty every game, you’d give them a taste of your own medicine.

Sitting on your broom, you waited for the whistle to blow, adrenaline coursing through your veins. Your eyes search the skies for the flash of gold that would signal the end of the game; your one and only goal. The whistle blew and the game started, you were hovering above the rest of the team, eyes scanning the air for any sign of the snitch.

It wasn’t until about the 20th minute that you finally caught sight of it, flying in front of your team’s stands. Your eyes locked with Draco Malfoy’s across the field, he was closer to it than you were, almost right behind it. Luckily it looked as though he hadn’t seen it yet, the Slytherin seeker had been watching you and not the snitch, probably just too lazy to find it himself.

You acted fast, racing towards the snitch; giving no time for Malfoy to catch up to you as you flew through the air. Soon enough he was hot on your trail, the wind blowing against the both of you. This is why you loved the game; the rush, the adrenaline, the satisfaction of finally spotting the golden ball. You were not letting Draco win this, with the scores tied up, this snitch would win you the game. And any chance of beating snotty Slytherin’s, you would take even if it was still early into the game.

The second your fingers closed around the tiny thing, you thrust your hand in the air, snitch visible between your fingers. Throwing your gloves to the ground, you kissed the snitch, the win allowing your house to go to the finals.

“Congratulations to Y/H for winning this match but a bigger congratulations to the new pair! Draco Malfoy and Y/N Y/L/N have just received their soulmate marks! I think we can all agree that no one saw this coming, but we wish you happiness for the rest of your lives! What a thrilling ending to the qualifiers!”

Your eyes practically bugged out of your head as your vision focused on your right wrist. Draco Lucius Malfoy was imprinted onto the smooth skin there, looking as though it was always meant to be there. Malfoy? Malfoy who you’d never even spoken a word to in the last 6 years? Malfoy who you watched bully countless students and that Potter had convinced everyone who would listen that he was a death eater? No, there had to be some mistake.

You flew to him, grabbed his wrist between your fingers and removed his gloves. This was the first time you had ever been so close to him, having never even shared a class together before. He was being oddly quiet though, nothing like the loud, cruel boy you often scoffed at in the hallways.

Taking off the glove, and him being surprisingly cooperative, you saw your own name scrawled across his wrist, the same font as his own name on your wrist.

“This has to be a mistake. I- I have to go.” There was no way, no way, fate would pair you up with Draco Malfoy. How could the gods be this cruel, they must have made a mistake? Someone like Draco Malfoy deserved someone like Pansy Parkinson, someone equally as horrible him. Not you, not you who was simply a quiet student who kept her head down and studied, never a foot out of line (well if you don’t count quidditch).

You landed on the grass and immediately ran towards your changing rooms, needing to get out of there as soon as humanly possible. It really didn’t help that you had the entire school as witness, you couldn’t hide forever, you knew that. But you sure as hell were going to hide for as long as possible.

Avoiding Draco wasn’t as hard as you first thought it might’ve been. Avoiding your friends, however, was impossible.

“None of us are really thrilled that he’s who fate paired you up with but give him a chance! I mean he’s your soulmate, you’re stuck with him whether you like it or not, you might as well start trying now.” You were going to throttle your friends. You loved them, you really did but they’d all found their soulmates last year, and none of them were notorious bullies or suspected death eaters. They were nice lads who got on with all of you well, you couldn’t imagine adding Draco to your comfortable little group and him fitting in.

“You guys don’t understand! It’s Draco Malfoy? The one who’s been hexing first years and who’s a massive blood supremacist? How could I possibly fall for him?” You didn’t know if you were more upset or angry, out of everyone why would fate pair you up with him? And why was Draco even trying, why wasn’t he just upset as you were. You weren’t blind, you caught him staring at you in hallways, at every meal in the great hall and at each Quidditch game. And in each place, you would bolt as fast as you could once you saw him start making his way towards you.

“Uh Y/N you might want to-“

“No! Look I love you guys and I really appreciate that you’re trying to help me but you’re asking me to do the impossible. How could anyone love him?” You had said your piece, feeling slightly guilty for shouting at your friends but at the same time it was as if a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders. “I’m sorry for shouting at you guys, I'm just frustrated.”

“It’s not us you should be apologising to, love.” Liam pointed behind you and you turned to see a blonde figure walking away, hands balled up at his sides, head hanging low. Suddenly the weight on your shoulders that had just left was back, but heavier and it weighed down on your heart too.

“Fuck.”

PART 2 | PART 3

#A/N: credit to that one percabeth fanfic I read years ago where percy was famous and this was the soulmate trope. This will probably be a mini-series, only like 2 or 3 chapters long.

Taglist: @bbeauttyybbx @pipppaaaaalouisee @theslytherinprincessworld @fangirl-3d2y​ @tttyrus @scriptingslytherin @justmimithings @purpleskymalfoy​ @minigigglybabi @malfoyquinn @secretaccshh @obbrssession @whatwoulddracodo @thatoneniceslytherin​