#they have very prompt schedules and are expected to *never* be late

[carewyncromwell]

“I wish I could stop the world from turning -- Keep things just the way they are... I wish I could shelter you from Everything not pure and sweet and good... I know I can’t...I know I can’t... But I wish I could.”

~“I Wish I Could” by Collin Raye

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tw: emotional manipulation, mild gore

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the Cromwell family tree // includes references to original character Hermia Flume // learn more about Blaise and his son Tristan

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In February 1998, the Second Wizarding War was in full swing. Terror reigned supreme through the Death Eaters’ hold over the British Ministry of Magic, with puppet Minister Pius Thicknesse ordering the Department of Magical Law Enforcement to facilitate the persecution and imprisonment of Muggle-borns, political dissidents, and other such “Undesirables.” It was a very scary time for everyone, including people who had to work at the Ministry, such as magical lawyer Carewyn Cromwell.

However scary the entire War was, however, one of the scariest moments of it for Carewyn ended up being when the new Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, Death Eater Corban Yaxley interrupted a private meeting with one of her coworkers to pass along a letter for her that he’d unceremoniously ripped open.

When Carewyn took the letter from him and read its contents, her heart leapt into her throat.

Winnie --

Jacob has fallen very ill. I’m caring for him here at the Cromwell estate, but I know he will rest easier, with you at his bedside.

Apparate home at once.

Blaise

“Jacob would be your brother, yes?”

Carewyn looked up at Yaxley. His cold eyes were very beady upon her face.

“I was under the impression that you and your brother weren’t on good terms with your uncle,” he said. “You two helped land him, my brother’s wife, and your other aunt in Azkaban at one point, if memory serves me. Rather charitable of Blaise, to now suddenly want to tend to wittle Jacob’s sniffles...”

Carewyn averted her eyes as she quickly got up from her desk and grabbed her purse.

“Forgive me, sir, but my brother needs me,” she murmured. “I must go to him at once -- ”

Before she reached the door, though, Yaxley blocked her.

“Oh, of course,” said Yaxley, his lips upturned in a rather cool, insincere smile. “Naturally, you must go to him. He is your family, after all. The last thing I want is for one of my most hardworking subordinates to lose a member of her family...especially to such a sudden illness.”

He was so close to her that Carewyn could hear his thoughts without even looking at him. Images of prowling around Jacob’s apartment -- of casting anti-illusionary spells at the walls that did nothing and Yaxley’s fist clenching  around his wand as he ruthlessly kicked over Jacob’s coffee table -- rippled over her vision.

“In fact,” Yaxley pressed on, “if Jacob’s illness is truly so severe, I might recommend he be transferred to St. Mungo’s, for more expert treatment. I think it’s best that I Apparate over to Yorkshire with you, to see him for myself.”

Carewyn’s heart clenched.

“That won’t be necessary -- ” she said at once, but Yaxley cut her off.

“I insist.”

He pushed her office door the rest of the way open, indicating the hall to her pointedly.

“After you, Miss Cromwell,” sneered Yaxley.

~*~

The knowledge that Jacob was ill would’ve worried Carewyn enough on its own. Jacob and Carewyn had always been incredibly close, and that bond had only deepened further after Carewyn saved Jacob from being trapped in a magical portrait for seven years and the two of them refined their shared talent for Legilimency as adults. But Blaise’s note was incredibly suspicious from the off-set, and not just because of the reason Corban Yaxley had cited. For yes, however disconcerting it was that Jacob was with Blaise at the Cromwell estate, when Jacob would never have willingly accepted Blaise’s help in a million years, Jacob had also always been in very good health. Therefore he couldn’t just be “ill.” Injured, on the other hand...

Carewyn couldn’t remember feeling more disconcerted than she did when she Apparated with Yaxley to the Cromwell estate -- or, more specifically, to the lands just outside the Cromwell estate. For around the house itself was a very tall, black wrought-iron gate, enchanted so as to prevent Apparition and Disapparition. Lane Cromwell had told her children all about how impregnable of a fortress the Cromwell estate was -- not just keeping everything from animals to even the weather out, but also trapping all of its residents inside with no chance at freedom.

The thought of Jacob, trapped in such a foreboding manor house behind such a terrifyingly cold, cage-like gate...

“Hmph,” said Yaxley, eying the gate with displeasure. “Suppose this thing prevents Apparition onto the grounds itself. Very well, then...”

He strode up to the gate, whipping his wand out with a flourish. The gate, however, didn’t open -- instead, it only seemed to flicker like red-hot cinders in a fireplace, before fading back to its normal cold black.

With a deepening frown, Yaxley waved his wand, but once again, nothing happened. He then reached out as if to open the gate manually -- when his fingers enclosed over the wrought iron, however, it flared a violent shade of red, and he catapulted backward, bellowing with rage and pain as he clutched his wrist.

“GYAAAARGH!”

It was as if Yaxley had touched a red-hot poker. His palm and fingers were covered in cauterized sores, the outer skin being ripped open exposing the red and violet veins underneath. Carewyn recoiled in horror.

“Corban,” said a very dry voice. "What an unexpected surprise.”

Both Yaxley and Carewyn looked up. From the other side of the gate, Carewyn could see the frame of her uncle, Blaise Cromwell, sweeping toward them. He was dressed in elegant black silk robes with a high white linen collar and white cuffs, and his blond-bearded face was twisted with the kind of immaturity and arrogance better suited to a schoolyard bully.

“If I’d known you were coming, I would’ve arranged to meet you at my fireplace,” the Head of the Cromwell Clan said sleekly. “I’m afraid this gate’s old enchantments don’t allow anyone without Cromwell blood to enter. Don’t tell me Marek didn’t mention it?”

Yaxley gritted his teeth with both pain and fury as he nursed his injured hand.

“...He...must’ve neglected to,” he hissed. “I’ve come to see your nephew, Jacob. I’ve received word that he’s here, in your care.”

Blaise’s eyes flitted over to Carewyn, who was standing just behind Yaxley. Her eyes flashed with contempt upon Yaxley’s back.

“That he is,” said Blaise, putting on his most innocent expression. “I paid his flat a wellness check this morning, only to find him completely emaciated in bed, fighting back a bad case of Black Cat Flu. Nothing life-threatening, of course -- but the boy’s always been hopeless, when it comes to caring for his own health. So I brought him home, so as to make him more comfortable.”

Yaxley cocked his eyebrow disbelievingly. “Awfully charitable of you, Blaise.”

Blaise shrugged. “I am Head of the Cromwells. It’s my duty, to take care of my own.”

His eyes flitted back over to Carewyn, his hand sliding absently into his pocket.

“Now, then,“ he said in a much crisper, more business-like tone, “come, Winnie, my dear -- best get you inside...”

Carewyn didn’t move. The very last place she ever, ever wanted to go was inside the Cromwell estate. After everything her mother had told her, she knew that it was a prison of the highest order...and after everything Blaise had done to try to force Carewyn, Jacob, and Lane to return to the Cromwell estate and rejoin the Clan, the very last thing she wanted to do was to give him a chance at trapping her inside his house.

Carewyn looked up at the foreboding manor with narrowed eyes. Her mind lashed around, trying to grab onto Jacob’s, if it was anywhere...but the gate, it seemed, blocked her Legilimency just as well as it did everything else...

“Don’t dawdle, Winnie,” Blaise said a bit more sharply. “Jacob is waiting.”

Carewyn’s eyes shot back up to her uncle’s face. “You can stop calling me Winnie, you are not entitled to that name.”

It was Carewyn’s mother Lane’s nickname for her, and so it was solely Lane who was allowed to use it.

Blaise returned her mistrustful glare with a far more impatient one of his own as his eyes darted back over his shoulder at the house. It made her really, really wish that his Occlumency wasn’t so rock-solid that she couldn’t tell what he was thinking.

But if Jacob really was in such bad shape...she knew she truly had no choice. And so, taking a deep breath, she swept past Yaxley, her light gray robes billowing behind her as she walked up to the gate.

As soon as she approached, the wrought-iron sparkled with silver, and within seconds, the gate had sprung open, allowing her access. Carewyn walked through, only to realize with a start that someone had abruptly tried to sneak up behind her. Before he could get too close, though, or even before Carewyn herself could react, the gate clanged shut behind her, trapping her inside and flaring with red as it forced Yaxley out. The wizard gave another bellow of rage and pain in response to the iron once again burning him.

“Forgive me, Corban, but you’ll simply have to return to the Ministry and use the Floo Network,” Blaise said airily. “I’ll be happy to receive you properly, once I make it back to my office.”

Carewyn flinched as she felt Blaise snake his arm around her and steer her away from the gate.

“Come, Winnie.”

Blaise led her at a very brisk walk away toward the manor house. Fully aware of Yaxley’s glaring eyes on their backs, Carewyn kept her gaze on the manor house rather than at Blaise. As her eyes passed over the climbing ivy and tiny windows, she reached out with her mind again.

Jacob! Jacob!

Something seemed to stir, somewhere in the lower West Wing of the house -- like a child too weak to move.

Pip. Where...Pip...?

CRACK. A ways away, Yaxley had Disapparated.

As soon as Yaxley was gone, Blaise lost all pretense of sophistication or composure. Seizing Carewyn’s arm in a rough vice grip, he yanked her behind him as he ran into the house.

“Augh -- let go of me!”

Carewyn tried to break free, but it was no use -- Blaise had always been much stronger than her. Her uncle whirled on her with a fierce eye.

“Don’t be a child,” he spat.

With a wave of his wand, he’d thrown open the front door, dragging Carewyn inside the house, and then slammed the door behind them. Then without skipping a beat, Blaise forced Carewyn to follow him up the stairs.

“The instant Corban arrives at the Ministry, he’ll be on his way back here through the office’s Floo grate,” Blaise muttered to Carewyn, his arrogant, condescending voice strangely urgent. “I must be there to meet him, if I don’t want him to wander -- ”

Pip? Pip?

Jacob! Jacob, I’m here!

Pip. Where...? Where...?

Jacob’s voice was becoming fainter -- almost as if he was losing awareness, or...as if she was getting further away from him...

“ -- Claire’s not bright enough to keep him occupied there that long,” Blaise pressed on, unaware of Carewyn and Jacob trying to mentally reach out to each other. “And even if she could, Corban will have to see you with Jacob, in order for him to believe that he’s ill and halt any further questioning...”

Ack...Pip...

Carewyn could practically feel Jacob’s pain shooting through her own veins. It made her eyes flash.

“If Yaxley saw me with Jacob, then he would know full well he wasn’t sick with Black Cat Flu, Blaise. What happened to my brother?”

“Nothing the foolish boy didn’t bring upon himself,” scoffed Blaise. “Now come along -- Jacob’s right up here -- ”

“I know full well he’s not, Blaise!” Carewyn spat. Yanking out her wand, she pointed it right at Blaise’s jaw, so as to force him to stop pulling her along. “Now take me to my brother right now, or so help me -- !”

WHOOSH.

Blaise and Carewyn both straightened up sharply at the sound of a gust of air rushing through a fireplace  not too far away: likely in a room around the corner down the hall from where they were standing. A moment later, Carewyn could just barely hear the simpering voice of her aunt Claire.

“Corban! What a nice…surprise!”

A flash of panic pulsed through Blaise’s expression before he whirled on Carewyn, his face twisted with anger and anxiety.

“There’s no time to explain -- I need you upstairs, with your brother, while I go deal with Corban.”

Carewyn’s eyes flashed. She dearly wanted to hex Blaise right in the face -- but with Corban Yaxley inside the manor and Jacob in no fit state to fight back or escape, she knew she couldn’t afford to act rashly. So, her face full of distrust and contempt, she reluctantly lowered her wand.

“As soon as Yaxley is gone, you will bring me to Jacob,” she hissed.

“Yes, yes, of course,” Blaise said dismissively. “Now move.”

He yanked him by the arm up the last set of stairs and down the hall, running to the closest door, which was painted a dark blue. The head of the Cromwell Clan opened the door and quickly shoved Carewyn inside.

“Tend to him until I return,” Blaise told her sternly. “Quietly. His headache doesn’t need to get any worse.”

With this, Blaise shut the door right on Carewyn’s back, forcing her fully into the room, before his footsteps retreated rapidly back down the stairs.

Carewyn glanced at the shut door, before turning to look at the figure lying down in bed. When she saw his face, she gave a start.

Jacob?

It was her brother -- at least, visually. His long messy black-brown curls were all in his face, which was pallid and lined with sweat. He was also shivering noticeably as he blearily blinked up at her. His gaze was distrustful and guarded, despite his exhaustion -- a kind of look Jacob would never give his younger sister in a million years. 

It didn’t take Carewyn long at all to guess the truth.

Polyjuice. How like Blaise.

A bitter taste rippled through her mouth at the thought of Blaise similarly disguising himself as Jacob, eight years ago. This time, though, she wasn’t going to be fooled by someone pretending to be her brother.

Yet Jacob was in the house somewhere. She had sensed his thoughts. So for now, at least until Yaxley left, Carewyn would have to play along with whatever Blaise was up to. And so, after a moment, she took a few steps closer to the bed, coming to stand behind the chair positioned next to the bed.

Not-Jacob stared Carewyn down, his eyes filled with just as much distrust as she’d felt toward Blaise. Even so, the fire was tempered by his lack of energy and consciousness. His mind was a swirling, turbulent sea of clouds that disoriented both its owner and anyone looking in on it. Disjointed echoes of Blaise’s voice even bounced sickeningly through Carewyn’s sinuses, just looking into this stranger’s eyes.

“ -- Winnie -- ”

“Lie down. You’re in no fit state to move, let alone argue -- ”

“Now drink this -- ”

Intense nausea rippled through the stranger’s eyes. He was clearly quite ill -- maybe even with the same Black Cat Flu Blaise had claimed Jacob had.

Polyjuice Potion tastes weird enough when you’re not sick, Carewyn thought. How gross must you feel, drinking it when you are?

“You’re Winnie, aren’t you?” said the stranger.

The question was as petulant as a child’s. It sounded strange, as Jacob’s voice certainly had never sounded that way. It was also accompanied by multiple memories.

“ -- little Winnie -- ”

“ -- saw her the other day -- our little bastard cousin, I mean…”

“Watch your tongue, Iris. Bastard Winnie may be, she is still one of ours.”

“ -- she’ll return home to us soon enough -- ”

Not all the words Carewyn heard were Blaise’s this time, but most of them were. …Come to think of it…the stranger’s childish affect did sound a bit like Blaise’s too…

“…I am Carewyn, yes,” she said softly. “My mother calls me Winnie.”

Not-Jacob’s eyes narrowed further, flashing with resentment and suspicion as he coughed harshly. Carewyn could practically sense the voice of a much younger boy coming off of him -- “I don’t want her here! She sent you away! I hate her, and I hope she never comes back!” -- followed by a loud SLAP and searing pain across the face. The recollection made Carewyn flinch — even when she felt a rocking, queasy sea of guilt wash through her, it only served to make her feel more pain in her face, alongside the pulsing of the stranger’s sinuses and head.

Carewyn rested her hands on the back of the chair as she considered the stranger who was not Jacob lying down in bed. Then, after a moment, she reached into her purse, took out a handkerchief, and wordlessly wet it with her wand.

“Here,” she said gently.

She leaned in and started dabbing the cold wet cloth to not-Jacob’s forehead. He flinched, startled and confused.

“What are you doing, you -- hack, hack -- idiot?” he said very rudely, his voice thick with congestion. “Hack -- I’m not your…your stupid bastard brother — ”

“Surprisingly I figured that out a while ago,” Carewyn shot back dryly. Her expression then grew a bit grimmer. “…Blaise told me to tend to you until he got back. Considering I can’t look for Jacob properly until after Corban Yaxley leaves, I reckon I should do that.”

Especially when you are actually this sick. You must be miserable…

She continued at not-Jacob’s temple with her wet hanky. He kept glaring drowsily up at her, even though his thoughts were so disoriented that Carewyn felt like she was riding a hexed broom. It made her avert her eyes, just to try to shut out his thoughts -- when she did, she noticed the empty glass on the side table.

“Can you sit up?” she asked.

Not-Jacob looked away with a loud huff.

“Use your eyes!” His voice was laced with resentment. “Hack -- I’m obviously in no fit state to move...”

Blaise saying the exact same thing in the stranger’s memory rippled over Carewyn’s mind again, and it made her raise her eyebrows.

“Is that so? Hm…if you were truly in no fit state to do anything, then I would think you would be sleeping so you could build up your strength.”

Not-Jacob grumbled irritably. “I can’t sleep either. Hack — hack — my cough’s too bad.”

“Well, propping your head up and drinking some water should help with that. Here.”

Carewyn reached out a hand back behind not-Jacob’s shoulders, supporting them enough so that she could help ease him up and adjust his pillows under him. He squirmed.

“Get off me, you -- ” he muttered. “ -- you tramp, you -- Muggle-raised bastard -- ”

“If you’re in a fit state to swear, then you’re in a fit state to sleep quietly,” Carewyn scolded him as she picked up the glass from the side table and wordlessly filled it with water from her wand. “Now settle down. I don’t want you to choke.”

Despite all of his fussing, not-Jacob did ultimately do as Carewyn said, however sour he looked about it. He clearly was not feeling well enough to actively rebel against her help, and he did seem a little refreshed after drinking some water and repositioning himself. When he cleared his throat, he actually was able to clear up some of the phlegm that had been trapped there.

“Does that help?” asked Carewyn.

“I suppose so,” not-Jacob said begrudgingly.

“Good.”

“Is it, though?”

Carewyn blinked. Not-Jacob cocked his eyebrows arrogantly.

“Hack -- it’s not like you actually care about your family, aside from your brother and mother,” he said scornfully. “So what does it matter to you, if I get better or not?”

Carewyn frowned deeply as she put down the glass again. “Family or not, no one deserves to suffer.”

“Even the guys who hurt your brother?”

Carewyn stiffened. Not-Jacob’s eyes gleamed -- he seemed pleased that he’d gotten such rapt attention from her.

“Do you want to know what happened to him?” he asked under his breath, rather like a kid divulging a secret. “He got into a duel with a bunch of Uncle Corban’s mates in Hogsmeade.”

Carewyn felt like her heart had been squeezed. “The Death Eaters attacked Hogsmeade?”

“Yeah,” said not-Jacob, seeming even more pleased by her reaction. “Uncle Marek said that one of Honeydukes’s people has been sending enchanted sweets to Hogwarts...so the Death Eaters decided to send them a message, for trying to stand up to the Carrows. Father said he saw them burn Honeydukes’ Sweet Shop to the ground.”

Carewyn’s heart hurt, just hearing this. Jacob had mentioned once that one of Ambrosius Flume’s daughters had been providing him with healing pastries for the fugitives he’d been keeping hidden inside his flat. Not only that, but one of Jacob’s closest friends was the owner of the Three Broomsticks, Madam Rosmerta. He must’ve gone to Hogsmeade to help them, upon hearing their home was in danger...

“...When you say your father, I assume you mean Blaise,” Carewyn asked quietly. It was the only thing that made sense, given not-Jacob’s incredibly distinctive, arrogant attitude. “What was he doing in Hogsmeade?”

Not-Jacob gave another scoff. “What do you think he was doing? Hack, hack -- he was making sure your brother didn’t do anything stupid. Not that that stopped him.”

“But how did he know Jacob would be in trouble?” Carewyn pressed, her eyes narrowing a bit more suspiciously.

“He overheard Uncle Marek talking about it while tending to me,” her disguised cousin said with a shrug. “Hack -- Uncle Marek is Uncle Corban's brother, you know. Uncle Marek really wants to join the Death Eaters himself, though Father won’t let him. Father thinks we should stay out of it and just look after ourselves.”

Carewyn’s brows knit together. “And what do you think?”

“That Father’s right, of course,” not-Jacob said, as if it were obvious. “Family’s the only thing that really matters. Not that you and Jacob know anything about that -- all you can do is run around trying to save people who aren’t anything to you.”

Carewyn crossed her arms. “There are a lot more people in the world that matter besides those who share our blood.”

“So you’ll put yourself in danger just for them?” not-Jacob shot back. “A bunch of nobodies? When your family needs you, when -- hack -- all it does is make your family worry about your safety, all the time?”

Carewyn’s eyebrows knit together over her eyes. She could sense an odd kind of conviction ebbing off of not-Jacob, when he said this -- something oddly fiery, under the surface. She could see Blaise’s pale, anxious face, as he carried Jacob past the open door of the bedroom they were currently in -- “Damn you, Jacob!”

“You and Jacob are so selfish,” not-Jacob said coldly. “All you can do is run around -- hack, hack -- making yourselves feel good by helping a bunch of outsiders who will never love you the way your real family can. Hack -- meanwhile, that real family has to sit on the sidelines helplessly -- hack -- hoping and praying that you’re going to be okay. All because you won’t even come home, where it’s safe.”

Carewyn could sense someone entering an old room with only one very high window looking out toward the grounds -- “To hell with the world. ...It could never love you, as I do, my son -- ”

That must be Mum’s old room, Carewyn realized -- Lane had described her old bedroom as tiny and dark with only one high window.

And sure enough, Blaise had come to take hold of the person’s shoulders from behind, when he stood in the doorway, a gesture that made the person flinch, given the possessive strength in his father’s hands -- “She’ll return home to us soon enough -- ” “You’ll be able to hear her sing yourself, when she does -- ”

Carewyn’s red lips came together tightly as she considered Not-Jacob solemnly.

“Family is more than just flesh and blood,” she said softly. “I have many friends who have put themselves on the line to fight for my safety and happiness...and I’m grateful every day, for that love they’ve shown me. And I know that there are a lot of other people out there who...yes, perhaps they haven’t done anything for me...but they have the capacity to express just as much love themselves -- for me or otherwise.”

Her eyes drifted down to the bed covers under her hand.

“...As much as...your father might worry about us, in his own weird way...he’s been very lucky, to be able to stand on the sidelines and act like the War doesn’t apply to him. We've all been lucky, to be able to live somewhat normal lives. Many other people aren’t so lucky. And those people aren’t nothing to us. They’re our friends -- our coworkers and mentors...even just people who we’ve gotten used to seeing every day on our commute, but never really talk to. And those people do matter. Maybe not as much to us as other people do -- but they still matter.”

With another loud cough, not-Jacob crossed his arms and turned over in bed, away from Carewyn. The lawyer’s eyes narrowed upon his back.

“You called Jacob and me selfish, a moment ago,” she said a bit more coldly. “Well, we’re not selfish enough to only care about a human life if it benefits us.”

Glancing around, she eased herself off of the bed and stood up. She strolled across the room, over to the window in the corner, and looked out into the garden below. It was very well-manicured with many white flowers, but the hedges around it were so high, one could hardly see the sky. When she reached out her hands and, with a bit of effort, opened the window, though, Carewyn was a bit put-out to discover none of the nice ambient noise one could expect from opening a window: no wind blowing through the hedges, nor birds singing.

Looks like the shields around this house really are impregnable, she thought grimly. She had to get Jacob and herself out of here...

“What are you doing? Father shut that to keep out the cold air.”

Carewyn glanced at Not-Jacob. He was peeking over his shoulder at her without uncrossing his arms or fully turning over, which made him look all the more like a child stubbornly refusing to apologize for his bad behavior.

Carewyn regarded him with a slight wry smile. “Cold air doesn’t hurt you when you’re sick. When you cough, you’re expelling the germs that are making you sick into the air -- if you keep all the windows closed, then all you’re breathing in is the air that made you sick in the first place. So we need to bring in some fresh air so it can push the bad air out.”

“Yeah, right,” said Not-Jacob, as he turned back over.

Carewyn could practically feel him pause. Then, abruptly, he said,

“Bring me some soup.”

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows.

“Hack -- if anything’ll make me feel better, it’s some soup,” Not-Jacob said petulantly. “So bring me some.”

Do I look like a maidservant to you? Carewyn thought scornfully. I have no idea where the kitchen even is in this house, anyway.

“Sorry, but your father told me to stay here with you,” she said primly instead.

“Well, then, the very least you can do is sing something, to help me sleep,” not-Jacob said without skipping a beat, as he closed his eyes. “You said that I should be sleeping, so I can build up my strength.”

Carewyn gave Not-Jacob’s back a rather bewildered look. He didn’t look at her again, though -- instead he simply sat there and waited. Rather than merely seeming expectant or entitled, though, there was something anticipatory, coming off of him -- almost hopeful.

Blaise singing to a dark-haired teenager resting fitfully in this exact same bed -- “You are my sunshine -- my only sunshine -- ” -- Blaise fixing the boy’s collar as he sat at the piano --  “You’ll be able to hear her sing yourself, when she does -- ”

The tension in Carewyn’s eyebrows slowly faded, despite herself. It left her expression far more pensive than it had been previously, as she settled herself back down on the bed. She paused, considering the stranger wearing her brother’s face still turned away from her in bed as his shoulders tensed.

Blaise’s son must still be rather young, Carewyn considered for the first time. A young teenager, most likely, if one factored in both his vocabulary and his bratty attitude. How old was he when his father went to Azkaban, with the rest of R? He would’ve had to have been at least a toddler, to have any memory of the Ministry arresting Blaise. How old was this boy now, when he wasn’t wearing Jacob’s twenty-seven-year-old face?

Carewyn’s eyes drifted around her cousin’s bedroom. However sparsely decorated Lane’s old room had been, this room was not so austere. It actually looked rather cluttered and “lived-in,” despite the grandiose furniture and bed curtains. A large collection of model dragons, griffins, basilisks, and Acromantula was scattered about the room; the bookshelf was almost completely full, its only incomplete row of books being supported by a pair of dragon-skull-shaped bookends; and there was a fake dog skeleton wearing a red collar and an ugly Christmas sweater sitting loyally next to the chair in the corner. There were even two signed posters for Lorcan D’Eath and the magical boy band Spellb🔮und hung up on the far wall beside the bed’s ornate side table. What caught Carewyn’s eye most, though, was the tiny model thestrals that had been hung on every handle or knob in the room so that they dangled off of them, their wings occasionally flapping with the force of gravity.

Carewyn’s eyes lingered on the thestral dangling off the side table’s drawer handle as she quietly inhaled and started to sing.

“Hush-a-bye -- don't you cry -- go to sleep, little baby... When you wake, you shall have all the pretty little horses...”

As soon as she started singing, she could feel the boy wearing Jacob’s face give the slightest start, but it almost instantly softened his posture. Almost immediately, all of the tension had rippled off his shoulders, and his arms crossed so tightly over his chest had fallen loose beside his covers. His hand even lightly clutched his covers. He’d also gone so quiet that it was clear he was paying her rapt attention.

“Dapples and greys -- pintos and bays -- all the pretty little horses...”

Carewyn could sense something almost wistful coming off of her cousin, as she sang for him -- watching his model thestrals “fly” across his room -- wishing he could ride one -- crying bitterly when his father broke one, in the heat of anger, when he was a toddler -- clinging to his legs, sobbing and begging forgiveness -- “I’m sorry, Father! I won’t leave you alone -- I swear I won’t!” -- Blaise holding an older boy, bringing a hand through his hair -- “ -- no one out there could love you as much as I do -- remember that -- ”

Blaise’s son isn’t happy here, any more than Mum was, Carewyn realized. He just feels guilty about the thought of leaving his father...no matter how badly Blaise treats him...

Her blue eyes softened with pity despite herself as she reached out and rested a hand on top of her cousin’s hand on the covers. The gesture made him flinch, so Carewyn sang the next lines more gently, in an attempt to reassure him.

“Way down yonder, in the meadow, Poor little baby, cryin’, ‘Mama’... Birds and the butterflies flutter ‘round his eyes -- Poor little baby, cryin’, ‘Mama’...”

Slowly not-Jacob seemed to relax again. Carewyn could once again sense Blaise in his thoughts -- the times when his touch made the boy flinch, as he wasn’t sure what kind of mood his father was in, when he held him so tightly --

“Don’t pull away, and perhaps I won’t hold so tight -- ”

Carewyn very gently took her cousin’s hand, being careful not to hold it too tightly. She wanted to comfort, not restrict him.

“Hush-a-bye -- don't you cry...go to sleep, little baby...”

Not-Jacob quietly exhaled as Carewyn’s song came to an end. His hand even very lightly enclosed over Carewyn’s in return as she heard the click of the door opening behind them.

She looked over her shoulder, to see Blaise and Corban Yaxley in the door frame.

“Here you are, Corban,” said Blaise. “Your proof of my testimony.”

His blue eyes passed from his disguised son in bed to Carewyn, zeroing in on her holding his hand. Something strangely happy flitted through his expression, before he put on a more solemn face and approached his niece.

“How is he?” he asked softly. The sincerity came through seemingly despite himself, but so did something oddly smug that Carewyn couldn’t quite place, thanks to his rock-hard Occlumency.

Carewyn’s eyes narrowed up at her uncle. “Better. You shouldn’t have shut him up in your son’s room like this -- he’s not going to get any better, breathing in nothing but stale air.”

Blaise looked miffed at being told how to take care of his son, but he tried to feign nonchalance. “I merely thought to stave off the chill.”

He turned to Yaxley, who was peering carefully down at not-Jacob.

“As you can see, Jacob is in no fit state to have been anywhere, Hogsmeade village included,” said Blaise in a slightly haughtier voice. “I don’t know who your scouts thought they saw, back there -- but my nephew has been here at the Cromwell estate since this morning.”

Not-Jacob stirred at that moment. He glanced from Blaise, his eyes blinking blearily up at him, before looking over at Carewyn.

“...Pip...” he rasped.

The nickname coming out of anyone besides Jacob made Carewyn incredibly uncomfortable, but she quickly feigned concern as she rested a hand over not-Jacob’s head on the pillow.

“Shh,” she whispered. “Don’t try to talk...rest now...”

Not-Jacob’s hair fell into his eyes as he reclined back on the pillows with a tired sigh. Carewyn brought a hand down to gently pat his head -- out the sight of her eye, she could see Yaxley’s upper lip curling with displeasure.

“...I see,” snarled the new Head of Magical Law Enforcement. “I suppose there must’ve been some sort of mistake.”

It was clear he didn’t fully believe this -- but with Jacob present, and seemingly too ill to leave his bed, he didn’t have anything to justify further investigation. He’d been outmaneuvered...and he was not happy about it. And the Death-Eater-turned-Ministry-employee turned on his heel as if to leave.

“Very well -- I shall leave you to tend to your nephew,” he said coldly. “I’ll make a follow-up trip tomorrow, to check on his progress.”

“I’ll expect you at noon,” Blaise replied crisply. 

Yaxley headed for the open door. Waiting in the hall just outside was Carewyn’s brown-haired, doll-like aunt Claire. At the sight of his sister, Blaise straightened up a bit -- she gave a covert little nod before shooting an anxious look over at Yaxley. Blaise’s eyes narrowed.

“Claire, escort Corban back to the fireplace, won’t you?” the Head of the Cromwell Clan said pointedly. “I daresay he has very pressing matters to attend to, back at the Ministry.”

Yaxley shot Blaise a rather dirty look over his shoulder, before sweeping back down the hall from whence he came. Claire rushed after Yaxley -- even after they had both left down the stairs, Blaise remained in the door frame, listening carefully as their steps faded away down the hall below.

“Winnie?”

Carewyn looked down at not-Jacob. He hadn’t opened his eyes yet, still pretending to be asleep.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Your brother’s hair is really long and annoying,” he mumbled.

Carewyn’s lips turned up in a slight smile as she reached out to smooth some of her brother’s messy curls out of Not-Jacob’s face. He relaxed again, smiling ever-so-slightly despite himself.

“Did it work, Father?” he asked a bit more loudly.

“Quiet, son,” Blaise said tersely. “I’m trying to hear.”

Not-Jacob shut up at once. Carewyn glanced at Blaise -- her uncle’s eyes were narrowed upon the staircase as he listened hard. Finally, in the distance, Carewyn heard the loud WHOOSH of the downstairs fireplace, and Blaise’s shoulders finally relaxed as he exhaled.

“...He’s gone,” he murmured.

Not-Jacob blearily opened his eyes at last, his features spreading into a bigger, brighter smile.

“So it worked?” he asked eagerly. Then he devolved into a coughing fit.

“Hush,” said Blaise sternly. “Lie back down before you cough up your entire lung.”

Once his son had quieted down again, Blaise gave him a smug smile.

“...Yes, it worked. You needn’t have worried -- it was truly not so difficult for your father to manage. Your Uncle Corban has always been a stupid man.”

“If he’s so stupid, I must wonder why it took you so long to join us,” Carewyn said dryly.

Blaise shrugged. “Perhaps I just wanted to give Tristan some time to get to know his cousin.”

He crossed over to not-Jacob (in truth Tristan Cromwell), fetching a small, green-tinted bottle out of his robes.

“Here, son, drink this. No sense in you looking like a ragamuffin any longer than you have to...”

Tristan obeyed. As soon as he’d downed the contents of the bottle, his frame began to morph, his features smoothing out with fresh youth, his height shrinking and Jacob’s long curls bending back in on themselves and straightening out to a flat, straight black.

When the Polyjuice Potion’s effects had been completely negated, Carewyn found a pale, frail-looking thirteen-year-old boy laying in the spot where the “not-Jacob” had before. And when he blinked up drowsily at Carewyn with eyes as blue and almond-shaped as hers, but far less sunken-in or tired than hers or Jacob’s, he offered her a weak, cheeky smile.

“Hi, Winnie,” he said impishly.

“Hello, Tristan,” Carewyn answered coolly. “And it’s Carewyn, please.”

“Father calls you Winnie, so will I,” Tristan shot back. “After all, I’m going to be head of the Cromwell Clan someday -- which means one day, I’ll be head of you too.”

“Sorry -- but the only head that shall dictate my fate is the one on my own shoulders,” Carewyn said very coldly.

Rather than being offended by this, Tristan's cheeky smile spread as he gave another hacking cough.

“Hack -- I made Winnie sing for me,” he told his father, his haughty voice oddly boyish in its mischief.

“I heard,” said Blaise, looking incredibly pleased with both himself and his son as he smirked at Carewyn. “Very pretty, Winnie. I sincerely hope it was a song your mother picked up somewhere, rather than something from that Muggle wretch who sired you.”

Carewyn felt a flare of loathing.

“Stop calling me Winnie -- and Mum did sing it to Jacob and me as children, yes,” she said. Her red lips curled up in a rather cold smirk of her own as she added, “It’s an old folk song -- though the version Mum heard first was performed by her favorite Muggle band, Peter, Paul, and Mary.”

Blaise’s nose wrinkled at once, but Carewyn pressed on a bit more aggressively.

“Now enough stalling, Blaise. I want to see my brother. Now.”

Blaise gave a rather irritable sigh. “Oh, all right. Forgive me for trying to encourage some familial affection...”

His tone dripped with a kind of passive-aggressiveness that could make anyone want to punch him in the nose. But before he could say or do anything else, the clock tolling in the hall made him stiffen like a startled cat. Tristan likewise had bolted up in bed, looking up toward the hall.

“Father?” the boy said hesitantly.

“Blast!” swore Blaise. “Pacifying Corban took more time than I thought -- ”

Carewyn cocked her eyebrows dully at Blaise. Guess he wasn’t so easy to deal with, after all.

Blaise strolled out of Tristan’s room to the top of the staircase, shouting down the stairs.

“CLAIRE! Keep Pearl and that neanderthal husband of yours on the ground floor until I come down there, do you hear me!?”

Somewhere downstairs, Carewyn caught the muffled sound of Claire’s voice obediently shouting back some kind of assent before dashing down the stairs. Blaise then swept back over to the bed and brought a hand down on his son’s head, looking down at him sternly as he steered him back down onto his back.

“Rest here quietly until I return, Tristan,” he told him. “I must send Winnie on her way at once.”

Carewyn’s brows knit together tightly over her eyes in righteous anger. “I’m not leaving without -- !”

“Without Jacob, I know, now be quiet and come with me!” spat Blaise venomously.

He tried to grab hold of Carewyn’s arm again, but this time she was able to dodge his hold.

“Don’t touch me,” she said fiercely as she dashed out the door of Tristan’s room and back to the top of the stairs. 

Sensing that Carewyn would at least follow him this time, Blaise gave an irritated growl before sweeping past her and down the stairs. Carewyn glanced back at Tristan briefly, noting the anxiety in his pale, boyish face, before quickly taking off after her uncle.

“Your brother is already in the room across from my office,” Blaise shot over his shoulder at Carewyn as they raced down the hall. “I instructed Claire to move him to the chaise longue in there while I distracted Corban. In the office is the Floo grate you can use to transport Jacob out of here -- I’ll mop up whatever blood he leaves behind once you’re gone -- ”

The thought of Jacob bleeding heavily made Carewyn’s heart pang with anxiety. She tried once again to reach out to Jacob with her mind.

Jacob. Jacob!

That familiar presence stirred again.

Pip? Pip!

He was close! Carewyn felt her heart leap.

Jacob! Jacob, are you awake?

Pip -- no -- I don’t think so, Pip --

Images of buildings overwhelmed by Fiendfyre dragons and manticores swam over Carewyn’s eyes. Jacob himself was fully surrounded, flinching with pain every time the heat lashed at his limbs -- holding his arms out wide as if to protect the alley behind him from the flames he was actively confronting -- Jacob’s determined thoughts echoing in her own head, and then his voice choked by the sooty air -- I can’t let them go any farther -- “Finite Daemonium!” --

You’re dreaming, Jacob, she told him firmly.

I thought so. Pip, where are we? You’re close, but...I can’t tell where you are, from looking at it...

Never mind that now. Don’t worry, I’m coming --

Carewyn was so locked on her brother’s mind that she ended up overtaking Blaise in the last stretch, barreling over to the door through which she could sense Jacob. She seized the door to the room neighboring the office that had once belonged to Charles Cromwell and threw it open.

Lying prone on his stomach across the chaise longue was the real Jacob. His face, neck, and back were covered in bandages and orange burn paste, both of which could only half disguise the severe burn marks that slashed across his back and had hacked a good chunk out of his long hair.

Carewyn’s heart leapt into her throat.

“Jacob!”

She ran to her brother’s side and quickly tried to turn him over enough that she could take hold of his face with both hands.

Jacob! Carewyn urged him with her mind. I’m here, Jacob -- focus on my voice, Jacob --

Jacob gave a soft groan of pain in his sleep, but inside his own mind, he was more aware and easier to hear than before.

Pip. Pip -- Honeydukes. Were there casualties?

Carewyn’s heart sank remembering what Tristan had said about the Death Eaters’ attack in Hogsmeade.

...I don’t know, but...the building was completely destroyed. It was burned to the ground.

She could feel Jacob’s heart pang with guilt and sorrow, hearing this. The face of a pretty woman with a blond bun and a strong jawline handing him several boxes rippled over her eyes -- “ -- for your tenants, not you, so don’t gorge yourself -- ”

“You’ll have to hide him yourself,” said Blaise tersely, once he’d caught up with her. “Claire might be loyal enough to keep her mouth shut, and Pearl dislikes the Dark Lord’s methods enough herself that she won’t be too cross, but I can’t take the risk that that idiot Marek learns of Jacob’s true condition, considering his blood relations...”

Carewyn’s eyes shot back up to Blaise, narrowing slightly.

“Is this why you wanted me to come so quickly?” she asked. “Because you knew once Claire’s husband came home, it’d be harder to hide Jacob from him and the Death Eaters?”

“Of course,” snorted Blaise. “Your brother would undoubtedly throw a fit if he woke up here. And although I would normally be perfectly willing to deal with one of your brother’s little temper tantrums, Marek hears more than enough from Corban that he’d be able to deduce where Jacob’s injuries came from, if he saw them. And just about everything Marek thinks, Corban could eventually hear.”

Jacob’s form twitched sharply.

Pip. Pip -- is that Blaise with you?

Jacob seemed to writhe in both anger and anxiety, even through the pain that still pulsed through his every vein and made it hard for him to move. Carewyn hurriedly brought a hand through his bangs, trying to soothe him.

It’s okay, Jacob. It’s okay.

“As much as I could take better care of both of you here,” Blaise said with a glare across the hall at the closed office door, “I’ll have to leave this to you and your mother, to sort out...”

The Head of the Cromwell Clan strode over to the office, threw open the door, and moved toward the blazing fireplace. He seized a cluster of Floo powder from a dish on the mantle and tossed it into the flames, turning them a bright emerald green. Then he returned to the sitting room where Carewyn was bent down beside Jacob, hoisting Jacob up into his arms with some difficulty so he could carry the younger man into the office. Some blood leaked through the bandages on Jacob’s right shoulder, staining the carpet.

“Ugh -- you’re far too weak to lift him on your own, but I must get downstairs quickly,” Blaise instructed Carewyn. “Choose your destination, and then use Mobilicorpus to carry him into the grate. The fireplace’s tiles are already arranged in the correct order to allow one to leave on a Tuesday, so we shouldn’t have to worry about anyone else coming through the Floo Network in the meantime.”

Seeing Carewyn's deep frown at his word choice, Blaise gave her a dark smile.

“Your grandfather was very strict about when a person could come or go from this house, and so am I,” he said, lowering Jacob down into the armchair beside the fireplace. “Be grateful for my mercy, under the circumstances.”

Carewyn pursed her lips.

“Grateful? For not keeping us locked up in a cage?” she whispered tartly. “Forgive me for not singing your praises. It’s shameful enough that you’ve already done it to your own son -- ”

“I’m protecting him,” Blaise retorted, his eyes flaring with temper. “Just as I would you, Lane, and Jacob, if you all would just open your eyes. At least then you and Jacob wouldn’t be throwing yourselves into Fiendfyre for the sake of some low-class shopkeepers -- ”

Jacob must’ve heard that through his connection with Carewyn’s mind, despite the state of delirium he was in, for at that moment he lashed out his limbs violently. The burns to his chest, however, abruptly made his body crumple in on itself as he moaned in pain.

“Clearly those ‘low-class shopkeepers’ mean a lot to Jacob,” Carewyn said fiercely. “So keep your insults to yourself.”

She turned her focus back to Jacob, trying to send soothing thoughts through her Legilimency. Then, her eyes still narrowed, she looked back up toward Blaise, her gaze landing on his shoulder rather than his face.

“...Thank you,” she said softly. “For saving him.”

Blaise scoffed as he turned away. “I said it before -- I’m the head of our family. It’s my duty to take care of you.”

Despite this, his face betrayed a rather self-satisfied expression as he headed for the open door. Once he’d reached it, he rested his hand on the frame as turned back to look over his shoulder again at Carewyn.

“Safe travels, Winnie,” he said, unable to fight back a smug smirk despite himself. “Do try to return home sometime in October, won’t you? Tristan plays the piano for hours, on his birthday...”

“This is not my home, Blaise,” Carewyn said coldly. “And don’t call me Winnie.”

Blaise was still smirking like a cat who’d successfully caught a rat as he retreated from the room, closing the office door behind him with a snap. As soon as Blaise was gone, Carewyn took her wand back out and flourished it at Jacob.

“Mobilicorpus.”

Ghostly white ropes emerged from her wand and lashed themselves onto Jacob’s limbs, allowing her to lift him off the chaise longue and carry him after her like a balloon on a string.

Pip --

Shh, Carewyn sent Jacob more comforting vibes through her Legilimency. You can sleep easy now, Jacob -- we’re going home.

With some difficulty, she eased herself and Jacob into the Cromwell fireplace, resting a hand beside Jacob’s head so that it didn’t accidentally hit the top of it.

“Cromwell Cottage,” Carewyn said her mother’s new address very clearly, “Tintagel, Cornwall!”

And with a flash of green and a WHOOSH of air, both Carewyn and Jacob disappeared from the Cromwell Manor.

~*~

Lane Cromwell was also absolutely beside herself, at the sight of her son. She quickly shut down all emotion so she could set about brewing a large batch of burn paste at her large kitchen cauldron, while Carewyn reached out to her Healer friend Chiara, who sent over several more potions she’d brewed herself via Owl Post, which were specifically intended for reversing curse damage.

After administering the multiple potions to Jacob both orally and topically over the course of several hours, Jacob’s condition finally seemed to improve -- his back and right shoulder had scarred over badly thanks to the violently angry third-degree burns, but the pain had finally been tempered enough that Jacob could sleep peacefully and wake up very early the next morning, just before sunrise. Carewyn, who’d curled up asleep in the chair at Jacob’s bedside, woke up not long after he did, subconsciously sensing his thoughts poking at the inside of her mind.

Pip. Can you hear me, Pip?

She stirred restlessly.

Jacob...?

She slowly opened her eyes. Her older brother smiled tiredly up at her from the bed.

“Morning, Pip,” he murmured. His orange-paste-soaked, scruffy face was very gentle as he passed her several comforting mental images through his Legilimency -- Jacob and Carewyn hugging each other upon their shared graduation from Hogwarts -- them singing Christmas carols together -- Jacob as a teenager carrying his very sleepy little sister on his back to bed --

Carewyn immediately moved to unfurl herself from the ball she’d been curled up in on the chair, rubbing her eyes quickly to try to wake herself up.

“Jacob...”

She slid out of the chair to the floor, crawling on her knees over to Jacob’s bed. When she reached him, she threw her head protectively over his heart as Jacob -- predicting the move long before she’d made it thanks to his Legilimency -- encircled her in his arms, bringing a hand gently through her hair. She knew he could feel her heart beating against the front of her rib cage -- see the memory of how scared she was, seeing his condition at Cromwell Manor -- Lane’s reaction, to seeing him...

“I’m sorry, Pip,” he whispered. “I’m sorry I worried you. You and Mum.”

Carewyn gave his arm a squeeze. “You were just trying to help the Flumes and Rosmerta. I know that.”

“I was,” assented Jacob guiltily. “But I should’ve been faster, I should’ve been able to do more. Then maybe Honeydukes...”

He exhaled heavily as he closed his eyes.

“I’d really wanted to save it,” he said lowly. “Even if just some of it was salvageable, at least then the Flumes would have somewhere to go -- some piece of what they had, at least some small thing they could hold onto and build off of. But they don’t...and now Hermia...”

He broke off, too despondent to put his grief into words. Carewyn gave her brother’s arm another supportive squeeze.

“They can rebuild, Jacob,” she said gently. “Jae told me that there were no casualties in Hogsmeade that night, because someone was able to reach the heart of the Fiendfyre tearing up the village and extinguish it.”

Carewyn smiled softly.

“I have a strong feeling that ‘someone’ was you, Jacob. And if it was, then the Flumes, and everyone else in Hogsmeade...they owe you their lives.”

She passed the warm pride that made her chest fit to burst through her mind to Jacob’s. It made his brother hold her that bit more tightly, leaning down awkwardly to rest his head on top of hers on his chest. Carewyn could see herself carrying Jacob into the Cromwell grate while supporting his head -- herself at age fifteen, running through the Portrait Vault to throw her arms around Jacob --

“And as usual,” he said through a slightly choked smile, “I owe you mine.”

Carewyn could sense him parsing through her memories of the Cromwell Manor. Seeing Blaise and that dark, cold house through her eyes made Jacob’s heart flare with distrust and resentment.

“Thanks for getting me out of there, Pip,” he murmured. “I don’t like thinking I owe that no-good, gaslighting old knob Blaise a favor.”

“After everything he did to you as part of R, this is the very least he could do,” Carewyn said dryly. “Even so...for once, I’d say we should be glad that Blaise is only stupid enough to pacify the Death Eaters, not actively support them...and that he’ll choose to protect you over elevating those relations of his that do.”

She paused. The memory of sitting by Tristan’s bedside while he was disguised as Jacob passed over her mind.

“...Jacob?”

“Yeah, Pip?”

“I think we should send something along in October, for Blaise’s son’s birthday. What Muggle sheet music do you think we should send him?”

Jacob blinked. Then his bandaged face broke into a huge grin as he started to laugh.

“...Dancing Queen. Merlin Alive, Pip, one of them HAS to be Dancing Queen.”

[honeylations]

KIM MINJEONG x FEM!READER

Prompt: you kept your pornstar job a secret from your curious roommate, but when an abrupt incident comes up a few minutes before filming, there was only one way to solve it

Warnings/Notes: pornstar reader, g!p Minjeong, unprotected sex, creampie, squirting, dirty talking

“Jeongie~ I’m off to work now. There’s chicken in the fridge if you’re hungry”

Your roommate pauses the penguin documentary she’s watching on the big screen to sit up on the couch and pout. “You’re working again? It’s like you don’t want to spend time with me”

“Of course I want to spend time with you, Jeongie! But it’s important for me to work otherwise we wouldn’t be living in this amazing apartment!” You reasoned with jazz hands as a bonus.

“Oh speaking of apartment. I have my share for this week’s rent. Did you want me to send it through your bank details or cash?” Your adorable roommate asked with her phone ready in her hand but you waved it off.

“I’ll cover your rent this week. Don’t pay me back I swear to God”

“Again?! Y/n this is the 3rd week you’ve covered for me and I don’t feel nice about it”

You shrugged. “I just got a good pay”

“Right. A good pay. What job is this Y/n”

Checking the time on your watch, you pouted cutely at your roommate. “I’m gonna be late. See you later, love you!”

Minjeong sighed and sat back into the couch, very much lost in thought. What kind of high paying job were you exactly working at to be covering rent so easily?

“The hell do you mean Yunjin cancelled?!” You yelled at the director who was panicking just as much as you.

“Look, all she told me was that it was a personal emergency. We’ve tried calling Kazuha and Minji but both girls are busy with other schedules so unless you know someone that can fill in last minute, we’re postponing this until next week”

Just as the director started to walk away, a bulb flashed over your head. “W-Wait director-nim, I know someone…Give me a couple seconds to call her okay?”

“Make it quick Y/n. I’m booked today”

Fishing out your phone, you pressed on Minjeong’s contact and she answered quicker than expected. “J-Jeongie?”

“Hey Y/n, you never usually call during your shifts. Is everything okay?”

“Jeongie I really~ need your help with something but I can’t tell you what it is until you come here”

There was a short silence from the other line. “Uh…Okay? What’s your address?”

“I’ll message it after the call. Look your best”

Minjeong stared at her phone with confusion when you hung up. Look her best? Minjeong has little to no sense of fashion other than the millions of oversized flannels and cargo pants sitting in her closet.

Thankfully already showered, she simply put on a black and grey flannel with baggy jeans before checking the address you sent and driving her way over.

Moments later she was walking into the huge building, finding you on a set that looked like a bedroom, surrounded by unfamiliar faces.

“Y/n?” She questioned almost breathlessly once she realised you were only wearing a bathrobe.

“Jeongie! Thank you for coming. Now listen, I’ll cut this as short as I can because we don’t have much time, but I’m a pornstar, okay?”

“What?!”

“That’s why I’m loaded with money. The person that I was supposed to be filming with today cancelled on me and I couldn’t think of anyone else to replace her other than you”

Minjeong took a step back with wide eyes. “Nah uh, no way Y/n! What makes you think I’m good enough to film porn?!”

You quickly took her hands out of comfort. “I’m sorry for putting you on the spot last second, but this is highly important to me Jeongie..” you pleaded and Minjeong couldn’t resist.

The taller girl stared into your eyes then the pout of your lips.

She let out a heavy sigh and squeezed your hands. “Fine. I’ll do it”

You squealed and jumped into a hug, peppering her face with kisses. “Thank you thank you thank you! You’re the best!”

“You owe me big time” Your roommate pointed a finger, making you giggle.

“Of course! Now head into that room with our staff. They’ll help you prepare”

In a blink of an eye, Minjeong was in her ‘costume’ (which was nothing but a black shirt and grey sweatpants) while sitting on the edge of the bed.

You wore a white camisole with no bra underneath and baby pink panties, standing in front of Minjeong with a big smile. “Hey you”

“I feel weird Y/n. I-I don’t know if I can do this anymore” She cutely mumbled, eyes darting across the room in fear.

Minjeong felt your small hands cup her face, forcing her to look at you. “Relax, baby. I’ll take good care of you I promise”

“W-What’s the storyline anyways”

“None actually. Just a wholesome home sex video”

“Whenever you’re ready Y/n” the director called out, making you nod.

Your hands rubbed gently at Minjeong’s nape and slowly going down to her shoulders for a reassuring squeeze.

“You can do whatever you want to me” you whispered against your friend’s lips and then closing the gap to get a proper taste.

You were surprised to feel Minjeong kiss back eagerly like an expert, even sliding her tongue in as she grabbed your hips and pulled you to sit on her lap.

For a couple minutes you two were sucking each others faces.

And the next minute you were sucking her surprisingly huge cock. She had your hair fisted in a make shift ponytail, throwing her head back when her tip rubbed at the back of your throat. “Fuck Y/n, I should’ve known you were a whore”

Oh? That was new.

Your so called innocent Minjeongie dirty talking? Your cunt clenched around nothing.

Minjeong forced you off her dick to pin you down on the bed, lightly pecking the hickies she had left around your neck and collarbones. “You got me so down bad, Y/n-ie. I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop having you like this”

Whimpering beneath her, you held onto her shoulders tightly. “Have me anytime you want Minjeongie”

“Ain’t that sweet of ya” She smirked as her eyes were fixed onto your glossy ones, confusing you slightly.

Then you felt the pleasurable stretch in your pussy when Minjeong’s cock welcomed itself inside, arching your back in the process. “What the fuck, Jeongie, you’re so big a-ahh!”

“The biggest you’ve ever had, darl?” Your roommate tilted her head, trying not to let your tightness get the best of her.

“Mhm the biggest!”

“Good. Then I’ll make sure your pussy is only made to take me”

You littered Minjeong’s back with scratches that started to bleed out, clearly seen from the camera crew which they zoomed in on. The pain didn’t bother Minjeong, not when she had started pounding into you mercilessly.

She licked her lips at your boobs bouncing with each thrust. She just couldn’t resist sucking on them like a baby, addicted to how sexy they looked when wet with her spit.

“Your pussy is sucking me in so fucking good, baby” Minjeong panted in your ear.

Then she felt a sudden warmth spray all over her lower body.

You were squirting while moaning Minjeong’s name, even reaching down to ferociously rub at your clit to ride out your mind blowing orgasm.

“F-Fuck that’s so hot, Y/n” Minjeong hissed, not planning to stop her hips even after you came.

“W-Wait Jeongie—AH!” You tried to stop her but she couldn’t care less about how sensitive you were.

She laid you on your stomach, bringing your ass up and going back to destroying your pussy, feeling herself go deeper with the new position.

“Fuck! Fuck Minjeong-ah! You’re gonna break me!” You sobbed into the pillow that you were drowning with drool.

Minjeong laid over your back and drilled impossibly deeper. “Fucking take it whore. I own this pussy now”

Then you felt a sudden sting on your shoulder blade, realising Minjeong was biting down into your skin. Not hard enough to bleed, but hard enough to leave a long lasting bruise.

“Y/n…hah Y/n, I’m gonna fucking cum…”

Your insides became hot from the cum she blew into your cunt and thankfully your roommate’s hips were coming to a stop.

“Shit…Fuck that was so good, Y/n. Thank you” Minjeong whispered in your ear, kissing it afterwards.

“CUT! This was probably the best one you’ve filmed Y/n! Great job!…Y/n?” The director called but was left with no answer.

Minjeong frowned and leaned further down to look at your face. “Y/n? He’s talking to you”

You were knocked out cold. Little snores and whimpers escaping your lips with Minjeong’s cock still inside your abused cunt. “Has this happened before?” Minjeong asked the staff, and they all shook their heads.

“No, never. You must’ve really fucked her good”

“O-Oh no, I’m sorry! W-What should I do?” Minjeong panicked and made sure she didn’t move so much as you slept below her.

“Wow, you’re very different to how you were on camera. I like it. Ever considered taking this as a full time job?”

Minjeong put a hand up, completely declining the offer. “Appreciate it, but I was only willing to do this for Y/n”

Director nodded and placed a finger on his chin. “Interesting. Hope Y/n brings you over more in the future. You two can rest there for a bit longer while we pack up”

The short hair girl nodded and pulled her cock out as slow and gently as she could to not wake you up. Then she laid you on her chest with the covers covering both bodies. “Can’t wait to do this with you again, Y/n” Minjeong smiled and kissed your head, letting the sleepiness take over her too.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

DJ MY LOVE!

May I request, from the cuddle prompts, of you feel so inspired:

- Feeling the rumble of their chest when they talk while cuddling

Or

- Needing their cuddles even though they have something else to do

With Tech! Haven't asked for him in a while and I think we could all use some Tech fluff right about now.

(If you get a bunch of asks for the same Clone or just feel a pull towards another clone, feel free to change it. 😘)

A/N: REBEL MY LOVE! Thank you for this! I’ve never written Tech before, and I was a bit intimidated, so I hope I’ve done justice to our boy. Also, you get two prompts for the price of one 🩵

Pairing: Tech x Reader (GN; reader is shorter than Tech but not otherwise described, aside from having a rough morning and a tendency to keep things bottled up)

Rating: T (but as always, minors DNI)

Wordcount: 789

Warnings and tags: fluff, cuddles, Star Wars swearing, adult language

Summary: You swear to the Maker, if ONE MORE THING goes wrong today, you’re going to lose your mind. Tech has an exceptional idea for how to help.

Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“Dank farrik,” you muttered under your breath.

The kriffing durang fruit you’d planned on turning into muffins had gone off. It smelled like death itself, and you gagged as you tossed it into the trash compactor. With a sigh, you glanced at your chronometer and winced.

Late. Kark. 

You snatched up your cup of caf as your brain raced to think of an alternative breakfast that you could pull together in a hurry before your scheduled holocomm. Not that Omega or the Batch really needed you to cook breakfast for them, but Benduday morning muffins had become something of a tradition, and you really, really didn’t want to see the matching disappointment in Omega and Wrecker’s eyes when you told them they would need to fend for themselves that day.

Maybe Shep has some extra—

“MOTHERKRIFFER!” you exclaimed, cutting off your own train of thought as the lid on your mug popped loose and you doused yourself in hot caf.

A quiet rustle sounded from the front of the Marauder as Tech slid out from beneath the control console and sat up to watch you, setting aside his hydrospanner. With supreme effort, you managed to keep your eye from twitching as you braced yourself for a well-deserved lecture on your language.

“Is everything all right?” he asked instead.

“Peachy,” you grumbled, grabbing a towel to wipe off your shirt in disgust.

He rose quietly and approached. “I do not believe you.”

“What gave it away?” you snapped, flinging the towel into the sink with a frankly unnecessary level of force.

“You are upset. Given the relatively minor nature of the incident, I deduce that something else is bothering you. Do you wish to discuss it?”

“Not really.”

“Astonishing,” he said dryly. 

“The kriff is that supposed to mean?” you demanded.

“Merely that I have observed that you often prefer not to discuss your struggles, though I hope none of us have ever made you feel as though you should not speak freely when something is troubling you.”

You blinked, too surprised to be offended at his earlier sarcasm. “You have?”

“Indeed.”

Well… shit.

“It’s nothing,” you lied. Tech made no response, but he didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Fine. It’s a bunch of tiny somethings that have all piled up on top of each other, and nothing is going the way I had planned, and I’m hungry, damn it, and now I have to think of something to cook for breakfast, except I have no kriffing caf left to make my brain work, and I have no other fruit to make muffins, so Wrecker and Omega are going to give me the tooka eyes, and I have a stupid holocomm that I’m expecting at literally any minute, and I don’t even want to talk to them, but I feel like I have to, and I swear to the Maker, if ONE more thing goes wrong, I’m going to lose my ever-loving mind!”

You grabbed the towel and began to scrub the sink furiously, desperate to focus on something other than the conversation that you very much didn’t want to have. After a few seconds, though, you felt a weight on your shoulder. You turned to see Tech’s hand resting there, and for a moment you were so shocked that you stopped scrubbing. He was not usually one to initiate physical contact, and you had always tried to respect his boundaries.

“Tech?” you asked uncertainly.

“I have observed that you often seem to find comfort in Wrecker and Omega's hugs when you are upset. As Wrecker and Omega are not currently present, I would like to offer my own.”

“Are you sure?” you inquired, dumbfounded. “Aren't you busy with the repairs from Omega’s last flight lesson?”

“It can wait,” he replied. “Unless you would prefer not—”

His sentence cut off abruptly as you crashed into him, burying your face against his chest and wrapping your arms around his waist. His arms closed around your shoulders, and he held your head in one hand. You slumped against him, turning your head so you could breathe.

“Thank you,” you murmured.

“You are welcome,” he replied, the rumble of his voice vibrating against your ear as you rested your cheek against his chest. “I do not wish you to feel as though you must face all your struggles alone. Even the tiny ones.”

Just then, your comlink chimed with the dreaded holocomm.

“Do you wish to answer that?” he asked.

“Not really,” you admitted, “but I probably should.”

“May I propose an alternative course of action?”

“Propose away,” you replied.

“Remain with me, like this, and forget the holocomm,” he replied.

“You know what?” you asked. “That's an exceptional proposition. I accept.”

---

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@dangraccoon

[rosepetalmark]

nonsense.

warnings: nsfw | mentions of alcohol/being drunk, sex, swearing, possession!kink (kinda) pairing: young! coriolanus snow (pre hunger games) x fem! reader summary: a late night drunk call with your best friend turns spicy -> inspired by "nonsense" by sabrina carpenter -> 4.7k words

he was drunk. you knew the moment you answered the phone that’s been constantly ringing throughout your house the past ten minutes. you hoped it was the wrong number. or someone wanting to discuss flower arrangements with your mother. lavish renovations and additions to your house never stopped, prompting you to never bat an eye at the never ending late night phone calls catered towards your parents. 

the luxuries never seemed to end, not when you’re a member of one of the most elite families within the capitol. 

but it wasn’t a wrong number. it was a number that was all too familiar to your memory, one you called frequently whenever you wanted a close friend to chat with. 

it was unusual for him to call you so late at night, especially on a friday. he normally was buried in textbooks, determined to maintain the top spot in the class in order to gain him the plinth prize. 

but tonight was different, because you know he, and along with all your classmates, were at clemensia dovecote’s party. you decided to skip out on the party your dear friend clem was hosting, still recovering from the hangover you experienced last week from the party marcus hosted at his parents vacation home. 

anything personal and as scandalous as a party was forbidden at the academy, as academics, poise, and determination were all factors each and every student were expected to uphold. anything less than such would result in expulsion. that didn’t stop you and your fellow classmates from having sneaky get-togethers filled with alcohol and capitol grade drugs, many of which were obtained from your parents' homes. you all knew how to have fun, but you also knew how to keep such fun underwraps. none of the academy students wanted to face repercussions for their actions, so it was mutually agreed upon to keep such excursions to yourselves, with no further reminiscing or discussions held the following monday when school commenced. 

coriolanus however, didn’t want to miss out. he skipped the last few parties because he wanted to focus on his assignments, determined to maintain his more than perfect average to ensure he was top of the class. a miniscule drop in his average would eat him alive, as anything less than perfect was a failure. that was the snow mentality after all. 

tonight was different. coriolanus desperately needed a break from school, the bags under his eyes and disheveling of his hair making it well known that he was eating his notes for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he was also most likely in attendance due to the upcoming week off for students within the academy with it being winter break after all.

you could barely muster a hello into the phone once you decided to answer it, a giddy laugh emerging from the opposite end. you could tell he was incredibly intoxicated; he always was a lightweight.

“heyyy,” he chirped, his deep voice admitting to the abundance of alcohol swimming in his body. 

rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but laugh at the state he was in. it’s been a while since coriolanus had fun and left his room, always rejecting any forms of interaction away from his homework and readings;always putting his academics first, friends and parties at the very bottom of his list.

except for you. he always managed to squeeze you into his more than tight schedule.

“shouldn’t you be at a party right now?” you question.

“haha. well i was there.” he began to giggle, his voice drifting off as he began to ponder what he was going to say next. “but after a few hours it got pretty boring. festus and felix left an hour in because they’re leaving early for their road trip tomorrow, and i think hilarious went to hookup with someone. lucky man. oh, and livia threw up on clemmy, i think? not sure though.”

“why are you laughing?” you question. it wasn’t out of the ordinary for coryo to be a giggly mess when he was drunk, as it was a complete shift in his demenor compared to his sober state. when he was sober, he was cold and polished, so it was never a  surprise to see him transcend into his altered state- he needed to let loose and be free more often. 

“why didn’t you help clem out? you know she’s never going to let livia live it down that she threw up on her, let alone probably ruined one of her new dresses.”

“because i want to laugh!” he pouts, completely ignoring your question about his friends. well, friend. clemensia was a close friend. livia was barely an acquaintance. “i think i’m fairly intoxicated and that’s probably why but, wow i feel so light. content even. i don’t believe i’m drunk to the point where i won’t remember anything, but this is a nice shift in my state, like amnice little pick me up”

rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but think of how much of a pompous ass he was sounding like. even when he was drunk, he had to sound intellectual. 

the last time you went out with coryo was months ago, right when the spring semester ended and you were all finished for the summer. but you never saw him drunk. he was always composed in social settings, never allowing his guard down when those around him were getting drunk or high. he has a reputation to uphold, and he never wanted to appear as less than flawless.

“why’d you call me so late, coryo? you never call this late. you're never drunk for that matter either, might i add.”

“i was bored and wanted to play a game with my lovely best friend,” he exclaims.

“coriolanus, it’s one in the morning. i'm in no mood to be playing a game right now.” 

“come on. it’s not like we’re going to play a board game or video games or anything. i'm too lazy for that now. 21 questions is what i want to play.”

“i haven’t played that game since we were kids, coryo.”

“why not?” he kept pestering, not seeming to let the concept of a meaningless game go.

“because we’re not 13 and you’re not a perv trying to touch boobs for the first time in your life! you already know as much about me as i know about you. i doubt there’s anything more you’d like to ask about my life.”

and that was true. coryo kept his circle small, but even within that small circle, you were the closest to him. out of everyone at the academy, you were the only one who knew about his living condition. the only one who knew about his grandma’am’s obsessive singing of the anthem every morning. the only one who would pick up the pieces after a meltdown about his education, deeply understanding that he needed the plinth prize in order for a successful future at the university and within the political realm. 

you’d be lying to yourself if you didn’t imagine any romantic future with him, but you knew that was hopeless dreaming. you read him like a book, and you knew he’d only marry for the sole purpose of having an heir and carrying on the snow legacy. romance and relationships were not a priority to him. 

success and power were. 

“what’s your favorite colour?” he asked, cutting you off from your thoughts, not allowing you to voice your objections about this silly game to him. you truly did not want to play this game, let alone be awake right now. but if it’s what makes your best friend happy, you’ll give in for a few minutes.

“purple.”

“what is your favorite day of the week?” you ask, unamused with how the game began.

“friday,” he hums, “it gives me hope that i can relax and see my friends on the weekend before all the stress starts up again on monday.”

sighing, you couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he sounded. behind the deepness in his voice and eagerness to continue communicating,you envisioned the bags under his eyes to be anything but clear and healthy, with dark bruise-like colors covering them;a clear representation of how overworked he has been lately. 

“why don’t you take a break from school?” you ask more seriously, knowing that he wouldn’t ever give you a straight answer when sober. at least when he’s drunk he’s completely honest, and with an honest answer you can find ways to help him. 

scoffing, you could tell he was appalled by such a question. “you know i can't,” he whispers, raking his fingers through his long blond curls, a habit he does when trying to make himself less anxious in stressful situations. 

“i need high grades. i need the plinth prize. i need to go to the university. if not, who will support tigris and grandma’am? who will support me? i can’t let my reputation-my family's reputation falter due to my lack of ambition.”

your heart broke for him. it truly did. all he ever tried to do was survive. to continue on the successful path that was once set in stone for him. but once his father died, that path crumbled within the blink of an eye, leaving coryo to be anxious every day for the rest of his life.

“sweetie, you know that won’t happen.” you say, trying to emit some positivity into his life.

“and you don’t know if it will.” he defends, his voice growing a bit higher. 

“yes i do.” you say, trying your best to comfort him over the phone. “you’re coriolanus snow. you can do absolutely anything you put your mind to. it just makes me sad watching you burn yourself out trying to stick to a timeline that doesn’t even matter when you’re throwing your health and happiness down the line.”

“that’s not what i’m doing.”

“yes it is, coryo! you’re going to kill yourself if you continue at this rate.”

“anyways, i’m in no mood to argue.” he said, bringing the phone closer to his ear. “next question! and no more emotionally complex ones, please.”

with such a vast switch in conversation, you begin to ponder what you’re going to ask him. it’s been a while since you’ve played this game, your mind blanking on any possible question to ask your best friend that you highly doubt you don’t know the answer to. 

“uhhhh,” you murmured, fiddling with the string on your pajama shorts to help your brain think of something to say. 

yawning, he couldn’t help but become annoyed at your lack of effort in this game. “you’re taking too long, so i’ll go. when’s the last time you had a really good fuck?”

“huh?” you half yell, completely shocked at the words that left your best friend's mouth. you’ve had conversations about your sexual experiences only a handful of times, but coriolanus was always more quiet and discreet when sharing such details. never in your life would you have thought you’d hear such a bold statement come from his mouth. 

“when’s the last time someone fucked you really good? i don’t remember if we talked about it or not, the last guy i remember was festus but that was months ago. or was it felix? either way, i don’t remember many details so now is the time for you to share them, my dearest best friend.”

warmth was all you felt throughout your body. not only were you shocked, but you were slightly turned on by the dominance he was eliciting through such a raunchy question. you don't know if you’re feeling this way due to embarrassment, or because deep down you wished he was one of the guys on your list that you’ve fucked. 

the typical best friends to lovers trope,whatever lovers meant in this century, has always lingered at the back of your mind whenever you thought of your relationship with coriolanus. you love him, you truly do, you can ever see yourself marrying him. you’ve established a level of comfort and vulnerability with one another where you feel like you’re both open books. 

you’ve always thought he viewed you both as too close to be romantic partners, not wanting to change the dynamic you’ve built for yourselves. but friends with benefits? you’ve thought of it a few times. a lot of times actually. you just never thought to bring up the idea simply because he’s your best friend, and because he was always busy. he left scandalous hookups and rendezvous strictly for summer, keeping them so deeply locked in his mind you had to pry for the tiniest of details.

“felix was the last guy i slept with actually, however i enjoyed myself with sejanus more. felix was decent, but it took me like 20 minutes to finish. it’s like he wasn’t even trying to get me off, like he was just there to get his dick wet and leave. sejanus, my god he was good.”

“how good?” he asks, his voice getting deeper, his eyes widening as you go into further detail about the best sex you’ve had in a while. 

“aren’t you so curious,” you joke, thinking back to how well sejanus treated you during your last hookup.”it was maybe like three months ago? maybe four, i can't really remember the timeline but my god did he make me feel so good. i swear i came like three times, corio, it was crazy. i never thought i’d have sex on a kitchen counter but one minute he was showing me the blueberry muffins his ma made, and then the next thing i knew my back was digging into the countertop and he was eating me out like it was his last meal on earth it was phenom-”

“i bet i could make you feel like that again,” he said sternly, his voice appearing angier.

“wait, w-what?” you stuttered, needing to know if you heard him correctly. 

“i said”, he coughed, clearing his throat. “ i could make you feel that good. better, even.”

“corio,” you sighed, a sense of eagerness lingering in your voice. you could feel your face heat up, his words are heating you up. “you’re um, you’ve had a lot to um. what i’m trying to say is-”

“i want to fuck you.”

“you’re drunk, coriolanus. you’ll probably forget you had such a thought in the morning and you’ll laugh it off if i bring it up to you so um, yeah. we can gloss over this and just pretend you didn’t just uh- yeah, you did not just say that. you’re speaking nonsense.”

the smart, energetic, compassionate boy you call your best friend has turned stoic, yet there was a sense of hesitation in his voice. “please, i promise i’m no longer drunk, and i one thousand percent mean what i said. when have i ever lied?”

“considering about an hour ago you were wasted, i’d rather wait to have a conversation about this with you tomorrow or something.”

“so come over.”

“what?” 

“come over and we can talk and i can guide you through all the times i’ve had a hard on because of you or how i’ve touched myself thinking about you. or how i'd get jealous of every guy that’s ever had the opportunity to touch you and make you feel good.”

“why didn’t you say something i don’t know like, like forever ago?” you were becoming eager. desperate to understand the words coming from his mouth. desperate to know that they are true.

“oh,” he sighed. “school you know. or you’d be with someone. i didn’t want to interfere with your personal relationships, seeming as they should be kept quiet. talking to you tonight and hearing about you with sejanus, of all people, my goodness, why? but anyways, it stirred something within me and i really needed to tell you. and part of this may be because i’m horny and haven’t gotten laid in a really long time but you’re also so beautiful and funny and god please say something because i’m so hard.”

your breath was hot. you let out a long exhale, trying to wrap your mind around the absurdities leaving his mouth right now. “you’re talking nonsense, coryo.”

“i’m not, and you know it.”

and you know he’s not lying. you know he’s a terrible liar. he’s told you many times that he can't tell a lie to save his life.you want him to kiss you so hard that neither of you can breathe. you want him to treat you like a fragile piece of glass, to take his time with you, covering every delicate part of your body with harsh, dark love bites. you want everyone to know that your body was his and his was yours.  you want him to beg for every part of you before he could even lay a single finger on your body. 

you want to fuck coriolanus snow. 

nervousness shot through your body. were you actually going to go over to screw your best friend? the thought had crossed your mind several times, but you never imagined such intense and intimate thoughts would come to life. you’ve always felt some sort of sexual tension with him, so why not enjoy it and move on?

“i’ll be at your place in twenty,” you say, abruptly ending the call and grabbing your shoes and a sweater.

you were on you way to fuck your best friend. ___

you barely made it up the stairs of the penthouse before you were whisked away into coryo’s room, his lips eagerly attacking your neck as you brought your hands to his messy curls to tug at. 

your back was slammed up against his door, his plump lips aggressively kissing every inch of your body, touching you like he was starved of intimacy and lust. 

kissing him was invigorating. you can’t believe you’ve spent all your life away from his luscious lips and rough touch. you’ve only been in his physical presence for less than five minutes, and you already know he’s going to treat you so well.

you know you’re not going to be able to walk properly for days.

but as coriolanus continues to pepper loves bites down your neck, his hand trailing toward your chest, unzipping the hoodie you threw on when you left your house, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was right. he was your best friend after all. you’ve never done anything romantic with one another. the most physical thing you’ve done was hug, which was only done on a rare occasion. physical affection was banned in the academy, and coryo had a composed reputation to uphold when out in public in the capitol. hugs were left for late night goodbyes or comfort when needed-nothing less, nothing more.

breaking away from his devouring kisses, you bring yourself to stare into his lustful blue eyes.  “should we be doing this?” you whisper.

fear struck his face and you could feel his body tense up, his tight grip on you faltering as the words left your mouth. “is this not what you want?” he questions, his face scrunching in confusion. “we can stop if you don’t want me.”

the words “if you don't want me” were floating through your brain. how could he possibly think you don’t want him? he’s everything anyone could ever want and more. you’ve been yearning for this moment for as long as you could remember. 

“coryo.” you sigh, bringing your hand to his delicate cheek, rubbing your thumb against it. “i only want you. i just don’t want this to make things weird between us, that’s all. you’re not just another guy for me to fuck.”

you could tell your words had an impact on him, as his hard on was pressed against your thigh, growing with your confessions towards wanting him. needing him. 

“princess.” he growls. “nothing will change, i promise. i want you more than you could ever imagine. okay?”

“mhm, yeah okay. sorry. i was just overthinking.”

“no need to overthink, love. it’s just you and me, right?"

“right.” you answer, your confidence slowly coming back. you bring your lips back to his, slowly regaining the hunger you felt for him on your walk over. you two carry off immediately where you left off, his lips back on yours, your hands back in each other’s hair. 

“what’s your favourite position?” he asks, his breath becoming heavier in between kisses. 

while coriolanus begins to unzip your sweater, you begin to ponder. missionary never fails, but you’ve waited too long for this moment to partake in such a mundane position. reverse cowgirl hits all the right spots, but then you won’t be able to see coriolanus’ face as he cums. you want to see him crumble. you want him moaning in your ear from the pleasure he feels. you want tears streaming down your face from how good and deep he fucks you. 

“i want to ride you,” you say confidently. 

“that’s my girl,” he smirks, lifting you up. you wrap your legs around his waist, bringing your hands to his cheeks as you begin to kiss him deeply,  him walking you to both to his bed so he can show you how good he can make you feel. 

he’s on top of you, pressing his body deeper into yours as you continue to makeout with each other, your tongues aggressively intertwining as one. it’s like you’re both animals in heat. you can’t get enough of each other, touching every available part of your bodies as a means of becoming closer to each other. he quickly slides down your shorts, his pants shortly following, and you push your hips up, slowly grinding into his dick. he’s so hard. and big, from what you can feel. you need him in you. now. 

“coryo,” you whine, rubbing your hands up his chest, signaling that you want his shirt off, the only article of clothing left preventing your two naked bodies to be pressed together as one. 

“mhm?” he questions, continuing to kiss your flushed lips.

“please, i need you now,” you beg, signaling for him to roll over and pull you on top of him. it’s as if he can read your mind, as he turns over instantly and grabs you by the waist, throwing you on his thighs. he places a chaste kiss to your lips, then lines his hard on with your entrance. he stares into your eyes, silently asking if you were ready. you quickly nod, and the moment you sink down into him, you’re in ecstasy. you start off slow, trying to adjust to his size, slowly but surely picking up the speed once you’ve become adjusted to him. 

“god you take me so well, baby,” he moaned in your ear, your walls clenching around his dick as you continue to grind into him. his hands were gripping into your hips, and with each thrust you were seeing stars, something you’ve never felt when with anyone before. 

“you feel so good coriolanus. so good mmh,” you pant, your legs becoming sore as you continue to bounce on him. “no one’s ever made me feel this way before.”

“not even sejanus?” he questions, smirking as he thrusts into you a bit harder at the mention of his enemy's name.

“no!” you moan, basking in the pleasure he’s providing you. “only you, coryo. no one’s ever fucked me as good as you. just want you.”

“good.” he says, continuing to match your rhythm. “i don’t want you fucking anyone else. or thinking of anyone else. just me, baby. can you do that?”

you slow down your rhythm, grabbing him by the nape of his neck and pulling him into a hunger-filled kiss. he matches your rhythm, indulging in the kiss you two are sharing.  “coryo, i’ve been dreaming of this moment for so long, please. i just want you. only you. not just physically,” you sigh, both in pleasure and in sadness. 

you want him, way beyond sex. you want to hold his hand in public. you want him to cup your face and kiss you when something excites him. you want to be the mother of his children. the first lady to his president. 

you want him to consume you in all aspects of your life.

“i want you too, gorgeous.” he grunts, the shakiness in his voice and slowed down thrusts signalling that he was close. “it’s only ever been you.”

you grip onto his shoulders, picking your pace back up, feeling your high fast approaching. you slam your hips into his, causing his dick to twitch inside you, his eyes rolling far back into his head. 

“i love it when your eye roll because of me.” you cry, continuing to sink your body deeper into his. “i’m so close, coryo.”

he adjusts his grip on your body, helping you grind your hips deeper into his. he moans in agreeance, sensing you were becoming tired, aiding you both in your climaxes as he thrusts himself deeper into you, hitting you in all the right places. 

you’re so overwhelmed by the pleasure you’re receiving. your breath is hitched and your thighs are aching, but you refuse to give in to your exhaustion. this feels too good to give up, and you can tell coriolanus felt the same way. his thrusts were becoming sloppy, a bead of sweat slowly trickling down his forehead as he continues to pound into you, desperate to finish.

the hums of his moans were deep in your ear, eliciting the knot in your stomach to final loosen, and all you see is white. coriolanus continues to pump himself in you, slowly coming deep in your core as you continue to ride out both of your highs.

“you’re doing so well baby.” he moans, his pace being more spaced out, your orgasms getting the best of you. you both sink into one another, your movements stopped, giving you both a breather to catch your breaths and gather yourselves. coriolanus slowly pulls out of you, hugging your waist to ensure your physical contact isn’t broken. 

his cheeks were glowing, and you couldn’t help but place a gentle kiss to his collarbone. coriolanus tucks the loose piece of hair lingering by your forehead behind your ear, staring into your eyes with such admiration, hardly breaking eye contact as you examine his beautiful face. 

“this wasn’t how i thought my night would turn out.” you giggled, tracing circles on his chest.

“neither did i, but i guess a lot of stress and a little posca can do wonders.” he explains, smiling at your joke. 

you stare back into his blue orbs, wondering what he’s thinking. 

“i meant it when i said i want you.” he confirms. “i tried to deny my feelings for you for so long, believing that if i maintained my studies and didn’t partake in relationships, i’d have everything together. but that was a lie, because you consume my every thought. i don’t think i can live another day without you being mine."

“are you just saying that because you’re jealous i slept with sejanus?” you joke, attempting to process the heartfelt  confession that slipped from his lips.

scoffing, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to your forehead. “well, that was an error on your part but i’ll pretend it never happened for my ego’s sake. but no, i’ve realized i’ve held my feelings in for far too long, and it’s time i’m open about them and with you. i like you, very much. and i’m hoping there’s a future for us together that is beyond platonic friendship.”

bringing him in for a deep hug, your bare bodies becoming one, you can’t help but feel content with how this night is going. you started the night off thinking you’d be annoyed asking coriolanus questions about his favourite animals or guilty pleasures, not engulfed in his warm arms, blushing at his crush confession towards you.

 “i like you too, coriolanus, and i would love to be your girlfriend.”

[thisapplepielife]

Written for the @steddieholidaydrabbles December challenge.

Taking Over the Neighborhood

Prompt Day 21: Snow | Word Count: 1000 | Rating: T | CW: Language | Tags: Fluff, Neighbor Meet-Cute, Snow, Platonic Stobin, Cat People, Eddie POV

Eddie hates winter. 

It's cold. It's miserable. 

And the snow. 

The goddamn, motherfucking snow. 

He looks out the window, and he's not sure he's even gonna be able to get home by closing time. That's the shitty thing about working nights in the winter. Sometimes, when you're really unlucky, you get stuck at work.

They get a few more inches of snow, but he's determined to make it home, come hell or frozen water. His van can just suck it up.

He has to drive about ten miles per hour, but he does make it home. Then he gets to wade through his snow-covered sidewalk. Fantastic. 

His jeans are wet from the knees down, and he's freezing, so he jumps in the warm shower. Even if he'd really rather just crash.

The next day, he wakes up just after lunch, and while he's drinking his first cup of coffee, he notices that his walk has been shoveled. That's weird. He definitely doesn't know any of his neighbors that well. He hasn't lived here long, and his schedule isn't exactly ideal for meeting neighbors. Maybe it's some of the kids in the neighborhood, and he owes them money now. Which, he wouldn't mind paying, he definitely appreciates it.

Maybe he'll see 'em out working.

So, Eddie sits by the window and waits. Soon enough, a guy is walking across the street with a snow shovel. Eddie's never seen him before in his life. Doesn't know if he has a wife, a boyfriend, six kids or a dozen cats. No clue. Maybe all of the above, for all Eddie knows.

But, Eddie pours another mug of coffee, slides on his boots, zips up his coat and goes out to thank him.

The guy's just walking up the driveway when Eddie opens the door, and he freezes in his tracks.

"Hey, thank you, your handiwork is greatly appreciated!" Eddie hollers, offering him a big smile. "I'm Eddie."

"I'm Steve," Steve says, and Eddie smiles at him. "I kinda figured that either you worked nights, or were a vampire," Steve teases, "But look at you! Out in the daytime."

Eddie laughs, "Not a vampire. Bar owner, though, so lots of late nights," Eddie says.

"I hope you don't mind, I was doing mine, and just thought I'd help."

"I really appreciate that help, Steve," Eddie says, handing him the cup of coffee. Steve accepts it with thanks, and Eddie takes the shovel from his hands, and shovels up the small amount of new snow that fell overnight.

"So, a bar, huh? Which one?" Steve asks, and Eddie pauses for a second.

"Hellfire Club," Eddie finally says.

"Oh, that's cool! Small world. My best friend and I have been there a few times. It's great. We liked it a lot. There's not a lot of queer-friendly bars in the area, and a new one is always appreciated," Steve says, and Eddie relaxes.

"I'm glad you guys liked it," Eddie says, smiling, "it's taking up all my time. Hence, the rumors of me being a vampire, apparently."

Steve laughs, and Eddie leans on the shovel, just looking at him. He's very pretty, and maybe, some flavor of queer.

It's Eddie's lucky day.

"You hungry? I can make breakfast? As a thank you for all your manual labor," Eddie offers, and Steve actually nods, which sends a thrill through Eddie. He hadn't expected that, not really.

But he ushers Steve into his house, and they both take off their snow boots at the front door, and then Eddie leads him into his kitchen. "There's more coffee in the pot," Eddie says, and he watches as Steve refills his mug. "Milk or cream in the fridge if you want some, and sugar in the container right there," Eddie adds, pointing.

And Steve doctors up his coffee.

"I should have asked earlier, I forget not everyone drinks it black," Eddie says.

"Oh, I like it both ways," Steve says, stirring his coffee with a spoon he got out of the dish drainer. 

Eddie would be so lucky, if Steve likes it both ways.

Steve scoots onto the bar stool, and drinks his coffee while Eddie makes breakfast. 

"How do you like your eggs?" Eddie asks.

"The runnier the better," Steve says, and Eddie pulls his hands to his heart, dramatically. 

Steve laughs.

"A guy after my heart," Eddie declares, and starts frying some bacon, and puts bread in the toaster.

"How long have you lived across the street?" Eddie asks, glancing over his shoulder at Steve.

"Four, no, five years. My best friend, Robin and I, moved from a small town in Indiana," Steve says.

"I didn't know who lived over there. Single person? Family with six kids? A dozen cats? It could have been any combination," Eddie teases.

"Well, it's one bisexual, one lesbian, no kids, and 2 cats."

Eddie smiles, teasing, "We're taking over the neighborhood."

"The gays?" Steve asks, grinning.

"No, the cat people," Eddie teases, clicking his tongue and a big, black cat comes racing into the kitchen.

"That's Midnight."

Steve reaches down and scratches him behind the ears, and it makes Eddie smile.

Once the food is ready, they sit side-by-side and eat at the counter. Midnight eating his lunch in the corner, on the floor. They talk, and Eddie is happy he's making a friend in town. 

Then there's knocking on the front door, and Eddie gets up to go answer it. That's weird. Gareth would just walk in, so he doesn't know who it'd be.

He opens the door to a woman with a bob haircut, "Did you kidnap my best friend?"

"Yes, and I'm force feeding him breakfast," Eddie answers. "You must be Robin."

Steve laughs from the kitchen, then hollers, "How did you even know I was over here?"

"I followed your footprints. And I saw your shovel, dingus," she says, and pushes her way inside. 

Eddie steps aside to let her enter.

Maybe he'll make two new friends today.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @steddieholidaydrabbles and follow along with the fun!

If you want to see more of my entries into this month-long challenge, you can check them out in my Steddie Holiday Drabbles tag, right here!

[kurooo-is-here]

Can you make a Drayton x reader where the readers best friend is Carmine and she introduces them and they have a friendly rivalry that turns into a relationship? If possible can it be a male reader. (Doesn't have to be tho 😅)

Oooo, this is a fun prompt! I already battle Drayton every day (I'm so normal about him 😭) so I kinda relate already LOL

Drayton x Male Reader ft. Carmine

Carmine reluctantly introduces Drayton to you, since he wouldn't stop asking her about the new guy she brought from Paldea. She introduces him as "the worst person ever", which gets a laugh out of him.

Carmine nearly jumps Drayton when he asks you out on a cafeteria date. She's furious that he's already making moves on you despite just meeting you, doesn't he know how to make friends at all?!

Drayton has his eye on you during your BBA Elite Four trials, and once you beat him, he's especially interested in battling you again. He calls your battles a way to destress, but deep down, he's never felt this excited before. He's interested to know what makes you so special.

Expect LOTS of battling with him. He changes his strategies up sometimes just to throw you off, and it pushes you to do better. When you do win, he's very happy for you and treats you to lunch afterwards!

Carmine laments that she's never felt like such a third-wheel before, because you and Drayton are getting along so well. She keeps bugging you, saying she's never seen Drayton this .... not LAZY before, and that he's actually trying for once, so clearly he must like you! You don't believe her at first, until you catch feelings yourself. Drayton's been a bit more touchy with you lately, which flusters you every time. He seems to enjoy teasing you.

Drayton being Drayton, he waits for you to confess to him. He already knows he likes you back, but wants to hear it from you. So when you do confess, he happily accepts! Though he makes it known that he's not letting you go from now on :)

Carmine finds out almost immediately and says she called it from a MILE away, the two of you were just pining at each other so much!! Ugh, it was so obvious!

Drayton gets surprisingly jealous when you battle other people. You are his strongest opponent, his rival, and his boyfriend- and he wants to keep it that way. After you battle other people, he suddenly gets very cuddly and insists on having his arms around you for at least the next hour.

You still battle him a lot, but he gets to be much more affectionate with you now that you're dating. Lots of victory kisses, hugs, and snuggles.

He gets busy from time to time doing BBA Elite Four stuff, but he's always making time for you in his schedule somehow, whether its to battle you or just be with you.

[cupoftaae]

HII i'd like to request prompt 11 "give me time, give us time" for kookiee? and if its ok id like to give u a small plot just in case you dont know how to work with this if thats okay 🥺

so the tiny tannie lil ol plot for this wuld be: jk being a bit of a workaholic (very much so.) and y/n is quite tired of it.. note that this is non!idol and married! :D they had a talk and a cool plot twist wuld be how y/n was actualy planning to surprise him abt being pregnant!!!GASPAND THEN KOOKIE NEVER NOTICED THE SYMPTOMS CUZ HES BEEN WORKING TOO MUCH!!! and like yeah she getzz rlly emotionsl

AND IF ITS OK CAN U GIVE LIKE AN AFTERMATH OF THIS? LIKE 1 OR 2 YEARS AWAY FROM THE ARGUMET? hope this isnt too much 😭

Hello!! oh my goodness this is so amazing, no one has given me a plot to write by, this is really cool and I hope that I do a good enough job portraying this for you! Thank you so much for sending this in <3

La La Land (JK drabble request)

warnings- mentions of drinking, angst, mentions of pregnancy, swearing, couple fighting, fluff, kissing (nothing major) I think thats all?

enjoy <3

"I cant tell, is this a positive or negative?"

Your voice was shaky and frail, holding up the test to your phone camera, trying to show your friend.

"blurry, cant see, read the box y/n. instructions are there" Your friend sighed, in her defense, it was late, and you called her out of slumber- but only because you were totally hyped at the sudden realization that you were finally possibly pregnant.

You and Jungkook had not necessarily been trying, nor necessarily avoiding it.

You both wanted kids, but never really specified when. Considering the fact you have now been married for 2 years, and your relatives are up your ass about when it is that you will have a baby, even though its not their business at all.

You wanted this for you, and today might be the day you get what you wished for.

"You just took it, let it sit for a moment"

you nodded at your friends words as you placed the test onto the bathroom sink, moving your hands to rest on your hips as your teeth tugged at your bottom lip in thought.

"whats on your mind, hun?" she asked

"a lot..." you giggled, drawing your eyes back to her. "If I am, I just hope Kook is happy, thats all I want"

"mm his schedule is so busy"

"I know, work always comes first with him, thats why im nervous. Its not like he told me to take birth control or anything, and we have condoms he just refuses to use one" you snicker

She laughs, "well then yeah what did he expect?"

"but hes a head manager at the company he works at, hes spent so much time climbing the ladder to get there, what if this throws him in a loop?"

"y/n....girl...listen to me, he is partially responsible for this, so he needs to be accepting or I will personally come down there and make him accepting"

You laughed at your friend, thankful you had some humor relief out of all the tension.

"and listen, you are in your 30's, its not like you are 20 years old and unmarried, you know?"

"yeah...youre right...im gonna look now, I think its ready"

"okay"

You gently flipped over the test and held it close to your eyes, a faint blue plus sign appeared, making your heart thump so loud it was audible in your ears.

"holy shit, its positive!"

"its positive?" your friends voice shot up 3 octaves

"YES!!!" you jumped around, wishing jungkook was home right now to show him, instead bathing in the moment with your best friend.

"congratulations, y/n, oh my god im so happy for you!!!"

"thank you!" you wiped a few tears, gripping the test almost as if it wouldnt be real if you let it go. "oh jesus this is so....wow!"

"remember what I said, everything will be okay"

You nodded, taking a deep breath

"everything will be okay, yeah....your right."

-

Everything, in fact, was not alright.

It's been 2 weeks since that night you found out you were pregnant, and everytime you think you are ready to tell Jungkook, something happens.

"oh gotta go babe, they are calling me into work"

"too tired to talk tonight honey, i have to get up at 5am"

"not right now baby, maybe tomorrow?"

It never ended, he was in and out the front door constantly.

It was upsetting that the only time youve had to talk with him recently was when you both took a shower a few days ago.

"you look so tired" you frowned, pushing his hair back

"I know...I am"

"you need to sleep more" you kissed his chest, resting against it under the warm water.

He let out a soft laugh, "yeah...when is there time for rest?"

"its okay to take time off, you know? youre a manager, you have more control"

"I just need to prove to everyone that I am capable of handling the position" he insisted

"Obviously you are, they wouldnt-"

"y/n, just dont worry about it....okay?" he squeezed you softly, trying to change the subject and shutting you down, because you wouldnt get it

-

You wanted your husband, you wanted him more than anything, and this feeling only turned to anger as you sat with him at the dinner table one night.

You were now almost 2 months pregnant and still have not told him.

You planned a nice meal to eat, his favorite.

You cooked all the vegetables and spent hours slaving in the hot kitchen making sure everything was up to perfection for him, just for him to come home at 2am with no text in regard to him being late.

"its late, honey, im sorry, we can eat tomorrow"

You stood to your feet before he could leave the room, all of your dishes sitting on the stove, some now cold. "no, we are gonna eat now."

You know he smelled the food, and never did he once acknowledge the fact you made his favorite dish, or thank you for it.

His eyes widened, not used to hearing the sudden tone in your voice.

"please....please just sit" your voice cracked slightly as you watched him slowly walk back to the seat, sinking into it.

"are you mad at me?" he whispered, watching your back as you heated up the food into a plate for him.

"mad..?" you chuckle to yourself, trying to gather your thoughts.

"yeah, mad. are you?"

You took the food out of the microwave and handed it to him, sitting on the other end of the table and looking at him desperatley.

"jungkook...have you noticed anything...different?"

He smiled gently, confusion in his eyes, "what do you mean?"

Your expression softened from hopeful to dissapointment.

"you dont see...you dont feel like anything is different?"

"no?" he half smiled, looking around awkwardly.

You looked down at your plate, teary eyes overcoming you as you tried hard to prevent your breakdown- but its been a long time coming.

"wha-"

"jungkook!" you cry out desperately, leaving him shocked and confused at the odd behavior.

"baby why are you crying? whats going on? what is this?" he panicked

"You!! im crying because of you!!" you stood, covering your face as you felt the embarrassment fall over you.

"what did I do?" he got up and tried to come over to hold you, but you pushed him away.

He let you talk, not knowing how to respond to anything.

"you are never home, Jungkook. I fucking miss my husband, okay? I spent 4 hours in this kitchen, sick as hell, making your favorite dish and I dont get any type of thank you, instead you come home 3 hours late and decide its time to sleep, you reek of alcohol as well" you wipe you tears hastily.

He stood, looking at you as his eyes teared up

"I know work is important, I know it is, But I matter too Jungkook!! We are married, I am your WIFE! im not just the maid and chef here, you know?

"baby I never said any of that-"

"you treat me like one!!" you cry, pacing the room, "see, you still dont even notice anything do you?"

He looked helplessly, "Im sorry, honey, I really am, but I need work-"

"not this much!!" you looked at him sharply, "Ive been home alone these past few weeks, dealing with a certain situation ive been terrified to tell you about all by myself!"

"im here now, tell me! tell me! what is going on and how can I fix this?"

"I just want you, jungkook....One fucking day, one fucking dinner" you gesture to the table "When was the last time we even woke up together and cuddled, or had a fucking cup of coffee and talked? Months...MONTHS!"

"my angel im sorry ive been neglecting you, why didnt you say something to me sooner?"

"I was trying to understand, I was trying sooo hard to put myself in your shoes but damnit, jungkook, I cant hide it anymore" you sobbed, knowing how crazy you looked to him right now. "Its...its not fair!!"

He gently grabbed your arm, leading you towards him, his eyes searching deep into your own.

You sighed, trying to adjust your breathing, "g-give me time, give us time." you wrapped your arms around yourself and looked at him.

"us?"

You swallowed harshly, trying to steady your voice, "im pregnant, Jungkook. I found out weeks ago and since then youve left me home alone with not an ounce of time for me to tell you, which is now resulting in this"

He froze, his eyes softening at you as he tears up, "pregnant? baby..."

"yes!" you step back, "and...and you didnt even notice! I tried leaving clues, I left the test in your bedside nightstand and you never fucking saw it?"

"n-no baby...youre pregnant, oh my god, honey" he brought you back to him, a soft yet sad smile on his face

"Its been all me, im the only one who has to deal with it and its not fair. If you dont have time for me, how the hell are you gonna manage to parent our child?" you glared "I refuse to parent alone, this is a team effort, jungkook. Yes money is important, but I need you, I need you to stop being a manager first and my husband second"

He took a shaky breath, part of him scared to say the wrong thing, "I- I understand honey" he nodded, holding your hands as he cried "fuck- im so sorry" you let him pull you into a tight hug "Im so sorry holy shit...im such a fucking dumbass, how could I not know?" he ran his hand up and down your back, face hidden into your shoulder as you both cried.

"you need to understand, I am serious, things have to change!"

"they will! they will! I'll change right now I promise Im gonna be here for you, for both of you" his hands held your stomach, desperation in his voice "dont leave...." he whispered

"im not going to, jungkook. But you need to stop working so much, I cant do this by myself"

"you dont have to, im here for you, whatever you need, fuck I'll take the rest of the week off for you, just let me hold you" he squeezed you tighter

"I miss you so much" your voice was quiet

"I love you, im so sorry I never noticed, Im so dumb baby....I love you,I love you" he cupped your face and pressed a delicate kiss to your lips, forehead against yours, "thank you for all you do, im an ass for not recognizing any of it"

"I love you too....just please...do it for us...?"

He nods "anything....for you, i'll do fucking anything baby." he kisses you once more as you both gently sway in the kitchen. The tension of the argument still lingering in the air, thick and prominent.

This wasnt a fixed issue, more so a stepping stone to him proving his words.

If he wanted to be a dad, he needed to show you he was ready for it.

--

"he is crying again" you sigh, rubbing your eyes and sitting up to look at the baby monitor.

"I'll get him" jungkook immediately got up and walked down the hall, following the sad cries that led him to your baby's room.

"little man...its 4am...why the tears?"he frowned at his 3 month old who's arms flared around.

the first 2 months of Kaiylin being born, you kept him in your main bedroom at night but you wanted to test out how he would sleep on his own, and so far its not been good.

"you want mama, huh?" he picked him up, holding him close and gently bouncing his knees. He didnt smell, so it wasnt his diaper, and he had just been fed not too long ago, so it was easy for jungkook to know he just missed his mommy and daddy.

He slowly walked into the bedroom, you were about to fall asleep. "oh kai" you frown as your husband places him into the bed between you both, his body facing the smaller ones so he doesnt fall out or move around.

"aw baby" you rub his head softly, "its okay now, shh, shh"

Jungkook gives you an empathetic look, "I know you havent slept im sorry"

You shrug, "i'll nap tomorrow"

"I'll take him into my office, he can sit in his rocker while you nap"

You smile softly kissing your husband, "thanks, baby"

You had to admit, Jungkook has stepped up more than you assumed he would. Hes began to work from home, giving time for not only your little family, but especially you and him.

He has been such a help with everything, from watching Kai during the night, to cooking and cleaning for you, its been 100% teamwork since you gave birth and you couldnt thank him enough for it all,

Things were finally starting to even out and you could not have been happier, the man you married in the first place was returned back to you, in the form of a loving father.

"hes sleeping again, look" jungkook whispered

Your eyes darted to the newborn in between you and your husband, you slightly giggled, "poor thing"

"co-sleeping just works I guess" he smiled, leaning over to kiss you gently, "go back to sleep honey, ill watch him for a bit, its okay."

"I love you, thank you..." you looked at him

"I love you too sweetheart"

-

a/n- ahh! I really hope this is what you wanted, it was fun to write and follow the prompt. Thanks again for sending this in! -Nini

[separatist-apologist]

Nesta FM

Prompt: Nesta is a host of a radio call in show for relationship advice and Cassian is one of her colleagues that starts making a few call ins…

SFW, 1800 words

-

“And you’re on Radio IBVU,” Nesta Archeron crooned into the microphone. “What’s on your mind tonight?”

Taking the overnight job at the college radio had, at first, seemed like a terrible idea. When would she find time to sleep? How would she focus on class? The truth was, Nesta had never been a good sleeper to start with and as a graduate student, she could be more liberal with her class schedule. She took evening classes and slept in late most days. 

All Nesta had to do was make sure ads played when they were supposed to, and music when they weren’t. The last person had slept, which, coincidentally, was what had gotten them fired. But when she’d come on, she’d  been told she could do classwork or read—anything, so long as there were no disruptions that were her fault.

Boredom had gotten the best of her two months ago, and on a whim, Nesta had invited people to call in for relationship advice. Nevermind she was the last person that should be handing that out. Her last boyfriend, Eris Vanserra, had been a disaster. That was what she got for dating the much older brother of her sister Elain’s boyfriend. Eris was a walking red flag and Nesta had known it the minute she’d laid eyes on him.

Eris practically radiated dirtbag energy. Even in his crisp suit and his five thousand dollar watch, he’d been worse than a fuck boy and Nesta had just barely made it out with her sanity in tact. Still, at the time, asking people to call her for advice had seemed fun. She’d never expected anyone to actually do it.

Now it was a nightly routine. For the five nights Nesta worked, from midnight to one am, she invited people to call in and tell her their problems. And people did. More than she could ever answer, lighting up her switchboard hoping for a chance to hear her—or other listeners—offer suggestions.

Nesta pressed the first button, smiling as she leaned forward on her chipped, metal desk. “Caller one, you’re on the air.”

“Hey, Nes.”

Nesta’s shoulders relaxed at the sound of that man’s voice. She didn’t know who he was, though something about him felt familiar. He’d been calling from the very first night, and though sometimes he didn’t get through, Nesta knew she’d hear from him a few times a week.

“How is it going?”

He sighed. “It’s good. Could be better. I’m thinking about telling that girl I like that I…you know. Like her. We work together, and I’m afraid it’s going to get awkward if she shoots me down.”

“Why would anyone shoot a guy like you down?” Nesta asked earnestly. She liked this stranger. 

“I don’t think I’m her type, if we’re being honest. She’s smart and cool and I’m…” he hesitated, like he was trying to find the right words. “Okay, I’m smart and cool, too. But I don’t think we’re in the same orbit. She barely looks at me at all when she sees me.”

“Maybe she’s shy, “Nesta began, earning a boom laugh from the other end.

“No, I don’t think that’s it.”

“Well, you should still tell her. And if she isn’t interested, there’s someone else out there who will appreciate you.”

Another soft chuckle, and then, “Thanks, Nes. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

She smothered a smile no one could see. He’d have to wait for Monday because Nesta was off for the next two days. She’d be thinking about him, though. Nesta thought of him for the rest of the night, long after she concluded her hour-long show with a guy asking other listeners to explain why his girlfriend was so mad at him for kissing another girl at the bar. 

She was half asleep when a knock on the concrete door roused her. With no windows to the outside world, Nesta never quite knew when it was, even with her phone. Glancing at the clock, Nesta found she still had half an hour before her replacement arrived.

She stood from the swivel chair she was hunched in and pulled it open. 

“Cassian?”

He was early. Nesta worked nights and Cassian worked days. They saw each other in passing—he was always so cheerful while Nesta was too exhausted to make much conversation. Not that he didn’t try, of course. It was endearing, in a way. Cassian never quit, even when any other rational person would have.

Case and point: the coffees in his overly large hands were clearly meant for the both of them. “Latte?” he asked, offering her one of the paper cups. Nesta nodded, stepping out of the way so Cassian could come in. It was easy to forget just how big he was. Nesta was considered fairly tall at five nine and Cassian utterly dwarfed her, ducking beneath the doorframe at six five. He’d half tied his shoulder length, chestnut hair from his face and from the looks of the stubble gracing his chiseled jaw, Nesta would bet he’d been up all night.

“Couldn’t sleep?” she asked, yielding the chair to perch on the side of the desk. Cassian ran a hand down his face. 

“Something like that,” he grumbled. Hazel eyes fell on her, bright and warm despite the gloom of the little box they were trapped in.

“What’re you playing?”

Nesta glanced at the deck. “More Bruno Mars.”

Cassian scoffed. “If I never hear Uptown Funk again.”

“I’m surprised it’s still so popular,” she agreed, taking a sip of her latte. Warmth flooded through her, jolting her awake. She was never going to sleep now. Somehow she didn’t mind. Not when Cassian was reclined in the chair like he was, his long, muscular legs spread slightly, hands resting between them. For the briefest of moments, Nesta wondered if all of him was large.

She chased that thought away. “You’re early.”

He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I uh…needed to do something before I start.”

She took another sip. “Oh yeah?” Nesta didn’t know what else to say to that, or even if he wanted advice. Instead, she pushed further up onto the desk, gently sliding a telephone out of the way with a socked foot so she could recline against the concrete wall. Closing her eyes, she added, “Anything I can help with.”

“No, Nes,” he chuckled. “This is something I have to do all by myself.” That voice. Nesta took a breath. It sounded so familiar. Maybe it was her exhaustion that made her want to hear more of him when usually

Nesta didn’t want to talk to anyone. “Tell me about it.”

“That’s the problem, I think,” he murmured. She peeked open an eye, surprised to find him staring so intently. 

“I’m the problem?” she questioned. Cassian shook his head quickly.

“No, of course not. I’m the problem,” he replied easily. “I need to just…say what I need to say.”

“You could always practice on me,” she offered, holding his gaze.

Cassian offered her a smile that made her heart stutter. What had him so worked up so early in the morning. 

“Right. I ah—I like you, and I want to take you out.”

Silence rang between them for half a second. “See. That was easy—”

“No, Nes,” he interrupted impatiently, unaware that she understood what was happening. Awareness was crashing around her like a wave and oh. How had she missed it? All those weeks he’d been calling to talk about the woman he liked, dropping obvious, blatant hints…and she’d been so blithely unaware. And before that…all his attempts to talk, brushed off as she rushed home to collapse into bed…

“Oh,” she whispered.

Cassian ran a hand back over his jaw, waiting for her to say something. The problem, of course, was Nesta had no idea what to say. She was so used to men snapping their fingers and telling her what to do. Wasn’t that what Eris had done? “Dinner, nine o’clock. Wear something black, and make it a little slutty.”

If Cassian had told her to meet him for a date, she might have offered him a snarky comment but agreed all the same. Instead, he was asking her for reciprocation—I like you. Do you like me? 

“Take me out where?” she asked, trying to keep her voice light and playful. That failed almost immediately. Instead of seeing coy, Nesta sounded a little too harsh, a little more suspicious than she was.

And, okay. Maybe she was suspicious of him. Cassian seemed a little too good to be true, after all. Handsome, smart, and interested in her? Historically, most men only had one of those things. Except Eris. He’d had none of those things, and they’d still dated for seven whole months. 

Cassian shrugged his shoulders. “The bookstore?”

Ah, shit. 

Nesta bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hard to avoid blurting out yes, anything you say, or worse, would you like me to call you daddy—not that it mattered. A small smile spread over his lips. “They have a bakery in there.”

She was well aware of that. Elain had worked inside it back when she’d been in undergrad, and Nesta had gone often for a nutella stuffed croissant. Elain didn’t make her pay, and as a broke student, Nesta needed all the handouts she could get. 

“What ah…what would we do?” she questioned, gripping the edge of the desk to keep her from hurling herself into his lap. 

Be cool, Nesta. 

As if she’d ever been cool a day in her life. 

“You could show me what you like to read,” he began, leaning forward ever so slightly. “I could buy some of them for you…if you wanted? We could get something to eat…maybe make out in the historical section. See where the night takes us?” She couldn’t hide the small laugh that escaped her, nor could she pretend that none of that sounded good.

“When?”

Cassian looked as if he couldn’t believe his good luck. “What time do you usually wake up? The book store closes at ten.”

“Seven?” she suggested, thinking that would give her time to sleep, shower, and overthink the entire thing well before it was ever time for her to meet him. 

“You’re not going to stand me up, are you?” he questioned, maybe knowing her a little too well.

Nesta reached for a stack of orange post-it notes. Too quickly, before she could talk herself out of it, Nesta scribbled both her phone number and her address. 

“Pick me up,” she told him. “Maybe we’ll make out in your backseat, too.”

Cassian held that little piece of neon paper like it was made of rare diamonds. “Don’t tease me, Nes.”

She hopped off the desk. “Wouldn’t dream of it, Cass.”

Assuming he had things under control for the last fifteen minutes of her shift, Nesta decided to make her exit before she did or said something that changed his mind. Knowing full well she’d do no sleeping, and still determined to try, Nesta went for the door. 

“Why don’t you dream of me?” he called, turning in his chair to watch her go. “I know I will be.”

“Don’t make me wait, tonight,” she replied instead, unable to smother her smile. 

Cassian returned her grin. “I wouldn’t dare.”

[cuffmeinblack]

Retribution

Ominis Gaunt x f!OC

ao3 link

Tags: explicit | angst | smut | dark!Ominis | non-canon death | violence | blood | torture | implied non-con | revenge

9k words

Summary: Ominis has kept his romantic involvement with Maerys a secret from his family for her own safety, but a pending betrothal causes complications. Maerys confronts his family with the hope of acceptance but gets more than she bargained for.

A/n: I wrote this for my giveaway winner @huntress-valkyrie with her OC Maerys Baratheon 🖤, originally meant to be under 4k words but I loved the idea so it ended up much longer. Especially the Kaz Brekker quote prompt.

There's also a slightly-spicy, sweet bonus audio.

The past year had been extraordinary in many ways, a year of firsts for Maerys—the start of a career she felt so passionately about, a new place to live away from the castle she had called home for several years. The most remarkable may have been finding her long-held affection for Ominis Gaunt returned tenfold, settling into what could only be described as domestic bliss within a few short months.

Their careers kept them apart for long periods of time, but they both found their way back with increasing fervour, spending the hours they had together living life to the fullest. The minute Maerys opened the door to their shared house, Ominis had scooped her up into his arms, forgoing his interrogation of her day's activities to show her his adoration and remind her that she was his . Though he never said it, he despised that her job in Magical Law Enforcement was so dominated by men, all eager to be on first name terms with the exciting new female investigator.

Ominis' love was more intense than anything she'd expected—once he had admitted his feelings and she had reciprocated, he began courting her with a ferocity that took her breath away. Their love was all consuming and Maerys knew that Ominis would do absolutely anything for her, save one. He would never reveal her existence to his family.

Maerys understood, to some extent, why—their absolute disdain for her kind was well known, and had caused a world of problems for Ominis who had dealt with the tainted Gaunt name. They would never allow him to openly be with someone who they deemed so beneath them; to use their words, a witch with dirty blood . She had fought and fought to tell them but Ominis had refused her for what may have been the very first time. She knew it wasn't a matter of Ominis' shame, but in her darker days the demons reared their ugly heads to convince her otherwise. Today was one of those days.

The past twelve hours had been utterly gruelling; the culmination of months of planning was an arrest of epic proportions involving over a dozen officers from the department, all after an elusive wizard who had thus far managed to defraud hundreds. Their hard work had paid off, and Maerys, whilst exhausted to her bones, was eager to make the most of it. So rarely did her colleagues get to enjoy such a monumental event. 

"We're off to the Leaky Cauldron if you want to join us, Mae," Felicity offered, tucking her wand back into her holster.

"Love to. I don't want to stay too late though…," Maerys replied.

"I know."

Of course they knew—everyone knew that she spent every spare moment she had with Ominis. Their schedules didn't allow for too much of a social life, and whilst she missed having a more active circle of friends, she had priorities. Tonight was a rare opportunity to mingle with the witches and wizards she spent hours with every day, without the constant talk of Ministry bureaucracy.

The Leaky Cauldron was packed to the rafters with those enjoying a post-work beverage to blow off steam; harried-looking wizards in smart, pressed robes and Wizenagamot pins attached to their collars lined the bar looking thoroughly exhausted. Maerys wondered who'd they'd been sentencing—by the looks on their faces, the trial hadn't been an easy one.

"Firewhiskey, please," Maerys directed the barkeeper, who nodded and flicked his wand to pour the deep amber liquid.

"Same," a voice appeared beside her.

"Nicholas," Maerys nodded in greeting at the tall man beside her. 

"Starting on the strong stuff, I like it."

"I have limited time, I may as well make the most of it."

"It's alright to spend a little time away from your guard dog," he said, a hint of distaste in his voice.

Maerys rolled her eyes and threw back the whiskey, signalling for another before it had slid down her throat. Bitterly, she thought that of course, Nicholas would use this opportunity to berate her choice of partner and try to convince her of his own virtues. There was no end to the amount of people in her line of work who had taken an instant dislike to Ominis because of his family name. With a sigh, Maerys knew then that the night would be a long one.

-

"Are you okay?" Ominis' strained voice rang through the hallway.

Maerys closed the door, barely being able to step foot inside before she was clumsily enveloped by Ominis' arms. She sank into the embrace, her muscles releasing the tension they'd held since the day began.

"I'm fine, it went well."

"Where have you been?" Ominis asked with a slight frown. "I was worried sick."

"I'm sorry," Maerys said, cupping his cheek in her hand. "We went to celebrate afterwards."

"Ah."

Ominis' nose flared, a sure sign that he was quietly seething. There was no love lost between Ominis and her colleagues, particularly when they were so openly flirtatious towards her.

That didn't stop him from gripping her waist, or pressing his mouth against those soft, pillowy lips. Nor did his anger stop the desire that coursed through his veins, his possessive brand of love overcoming any and all inhibitions in a frantic need to claim her. The fire in their lovemaking burned so hot it threatened to consume them both in those moments, both wordlessly conveying that they belonged only to each other, forever and always.

As they basked silently in the afterglow, Ominis traced the flame-shaped birthmark on Maerys’ lower back as he often did—the skin textured differently to the surrounding flesh, the rough patch always guided his delicate fingers there. At one point, the attention to the red blemish might have bothered her, but she had since come to love it as much as his own imperfections; the beauty marks that flecked his cheeks and continued down his body reminded her of constellations, something to be celebrated and marvelled at, not hidden away.

“I wanted to discuss something with you…but perhaps now isn’t the most opportune moment,” Ominis said quietly, more to himself than to Maerys.

Her interest piqued, Maerys raised herself up onto her elbows and turned her head to look at Ominis, her mahogany locks cascading onto the pillow below her. Ominis continued his rhythmic stroking of her back, his touch noticeably gentler.

“What is it? Now’s a good a time as any.”

Ominis took a few seconds to collect his thoughts as she waited with bated breath, noticing the way his brows pinched slightly between his eyes and his kiss-swollen lips pursed. The face was familiar, one of either great concentration or great discomfort.

“It’s quite a delicate subject but I promise you I have no intention of fulfilling my obligation.”

Maerys’ heart thumped in her chest and she sat up on the bed, staring down at her beloved with unbelieving eyes. Finally, the day she’d dreaded had come, a mere year into their courtship.

“Who?”

Ominis sighed and lifted himself off the mattress to sit next to Maerys, his fingers tracing her goose pimpled flesh to find her contorted face, cupping her cheek lovingly. 

“A…cousin. I promise you, I have no intention of marrying her, or anyone else.”

“This never would have happened if you didn’t insist on keeping me a secret, Ominis.”

“For your own safety , Maerys.”

“Or for your own convenience?”

“ How can you say that? I want nothing more in this world than to declare my love for you. You must know that by now.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, Ominis. Perhaps another day, but I’m exhausted.”

“I’m sorry, my love. I love you…most ardently.”

Maerys had neither the energy or inclination to reply, merely settling back onto the bed and waiting for Ominis, who sighed and lay back a moment later. She may have been able to hold a grudge, but there was no reason why she would deprive herself of his warmth on such a cold day. She told herself that the blustery winds and driving rain outside the window was reason enough to need the extra heat, and certainly not because she craved his comfort.

-

The tension carried on into morning, with Maerys finding herself so distracted making breakfast that a wayward flick of her wand left the kitchen covered in goopy porridge. Ominis took over shortly after that, his eyebrows never fully relaxing as he rolled up his shirt sleeves to prepare them some much-needed fuel.

Maerys watched Ominis cook, as always finding his care and attention to detail entrancing. She quietly sipped her tea, stewing over what he'd divulged the previous evening, and finding herself at a loss as to how to proceed. She was angry— of course at his despicable family but at Ominis , too. 

It was high time his father knew about Maerys and accepted her. Whether or not he would was another issue, but she wouldn't tolerate such a slight as to be so completely unacknowledged. The milky Darjeeling slid down her throat and warmed her stomach as she formed a plan for her day off work and Ominis served their food, none the wiser. He would thank her later, even if it meant a day or two of flared tempers culminating in a passionate reunification.

"Eat up," Ominis said, breaking Maerys out of her daydream.

Ominis rolled down his sleeves and smoothed his waistcoat as he settled at the table. The breakfast was delicious, as it usually was when Ominis prepared it.

“What will you do today?” Ominis asked.

“Oh, I’m…not sure,” Maerys replied evasively.

If Ominis found the answer suspicious or unsatisfactory, he didn’t say, choosing to forgo further argument and concentrate on his food. They ate quickly and Ominis gave himself a final smooth over, grabbing his suitcase and holstering his wand whilst Maerys followed him to the door—a ritual they never deviated from whatever the current mood. They would always say goodbye, the unspoken truth that it could always be the last.

The kiss she gave Ominis was an apology for what she was intending to do; slow and passionate with a heavy admission of love. Ominis' hands wandered over her scantily-clad body, still dressed in only her silk nightdress and a delicate dressing gown. She hadn't intended to distract him so thoroughly, but the low growl in his throat and twitch in his trousers sent her own blood rushing, an ache between her legs so intense she couldn't control the whimper that left her mouth.

Ominis' tongue swept into her mouth, hungry and demanding as his hands kneaded the soft flesh of her breasts through the flimsy fabric. Her nipples responded, peaking under his touch as she moaned longingly into his mouth. Maerys always found Ominis irresistible no matter her mood, and the way his composure broke down around her was a power she never knew she craved.

Her head spun, revelling in the way his erection pressed painfully into her hip, probably soaking his carefully pressed work trousers with arousal that she had brought forth. 

"Shouldn't you be getting to work?" Maerys said teasingly.

"You know full well I can't leave until I've had you now," Ominis replied, a hand slipping underneath her nightdress.

His delicate fingers pushed aside the lacy undergarments and found the pool of slick between her legs and she moaned, stumbling backwards against the hallway wall. Ominis followed, not allowing their contact to break as he resumed the rhythmic grinding of his stiff cock against her. His lips traced her neck as his fingers parted her folds and he dragged his digits lazily across her swollen nub, spreading her arousal.

Maerys met his hand with a movement of her hips, sighing with every brush of his fingers against her most sensitive area. She had no intention of dragging out the encounter, as she watched Ominis' flushed face with lust-filled eyes, her core ached for him. Her hands flew to his thoroughly-dirtied trousers, biting her tongue at the sight of the pooling precum on the straining fabric. She made quick work of his buttons, releasing his thick cock and a moan from his mouth, hot breath against the skin of her neck.

She'd barely wrapped her hand around him before Ominis had spun her around, his length pressing against her behind as he gathered the silk above her hips. He continued to kiss her neck, muttering sweet nothings as he lined himself up with her soaking entrance before pushing the tip inside her slowly, allowing her time to adjust to his size. They moaned together as he slid deeper into her soaking wet hole, her walls clenching eagerly in anticipation of the glorious climax she soon knew she'd be experiencing.

"Fuck , Ominis," Maerys sighed, always surprised at how he managed to make her feel so full .

"You've made me late for work, you know," Ominis said as his cock retreated. 

He slid back inside her, pressing harder and deeper each time. Maerys arched her back into the thrusts, his cock hitting her satisfyingly deep and sending shockwaves through her primed and panting body.

"You feel so good," she barely managed to whimper through his forceful thrusts.

"And you feel absolutely incredible", brushing her dark, waist-length hair over her shoulder and continuing his assault on her tender neck.

She knew he'd leave marks, another reminder that she belonged to him alone. She would show them proudly, brushing them with her fingers fondly as she brushed her tangled hair later that day.

Ominis' rhythm ramped up, the empty hallways filling with the sounds of their slickened skin slapping, Maerys' arousal thoroughly coating their most intimate areas as Ominis became more and more dishevelled. Her soft and blood-swollen walls enveloped his cock so completely, every roll of his hips bringing them both closer to the edge.

"I do enjoy it when you wear this," Ominis whispered in her ear, his hands wandering over her waist. "I can feel every…curve…of your delicious little body."

Maerys gasped and pushed backwards against his cock as Ominis resumed his teasing of her nipples, practically drooling against her neck. She could feel her orgasm brewing, her breath growing ragged and muscles twitching in anticipation. Ominis couldn't fail to notice the same.

"Come on, my love. Show me how good I feel."

"Ominis…," Maerys sighed his name and fingers clawed uselessly at the wallpaper as she reached her climax.

Her core clenched before her orgasm exploded, sending waves through her body and gripping Ominis' cock. Soft moans brushed her ear as Ominis reached his own blissful release, filling her with his cum with every squeeze around his shaft. Maerys was against the wall, Ominis' weight pressing her hard as he grinded his hips into her, milking every last drop of his seed inside her.

When Ominis' was empty and Maerys a limp and bedraggled mess, he pulled her back and held her tightly, planting kisses on every exposed inch of skin he could find. 

"I love you," he sighed.

"I love you, too," Maerys sighed, reaching back to gently stroke his jaw.

"Now, I really must change and get to work, lest I find myself out of a job for my tardiness."

-

Ominis had left in a hurry, planting a swift kiss on her lips on his way out of the door, leaving Maerys alone to ready herself for the day. The first order of business was to wash the sex from her skin, letting the water and gentle soaps lift the residue from her thighs. She squirmed slightly as her fingers brushed over her intimate area, slightly sore and puffy. She dressed smartly, taking care with her appearance more than she might usually.

Meeting Ominis’ family should have been a joyous affair, but the Gaunts had made such a thing a fairytale. Maerys would instead be confronting them at a great disadvantage—not only did they have no idea she even existed, she’d be asking them to accept her and break off Ominis’ engagement. 

There was no use dwelling on the what-ifs of the encounter; as Maerys left the house to apparate to her destination, she ran over the words she wanted to say. A crack of apparition later, and she landed in a green expanse far away from the city she’d just left.

The Gaunt manor was as imposing as she'd imagined—though the house was large and likely once an ostentatious show of pureblood wealth, it was now run down and a shadow of its former glory. As with any magical dwelling, particularly for a powerful family, the building and grounds were enveloped by wards—this wouldn't simply be a case of walking up to the front door and knocking. Only those who were invited would be allowed to enter the wards, and knowing the Gaunts, Maerys wouldn't have been surprised if an intruder found themselves in searing pain. The place practically rippled with dark magic.

Maerys likely could have taken them down, one by one. She was a powerful witch with a background in law enforcement; this was part and parcel of her job. However, she preferred to remain on good (or at least civil) terms with Ominis' father by the time she left. Tentatively taking out her wand, she pointed it at the boundary and shot red sparks at the wards. They fizzled and disappeared as they hit the shimmering dome, and Maerys waited.

She'd expected a servant of some sort, perhaps a house elf to greet her, instead a tall, dark figure appeared in the doorway. Perhaps it was a trick of perspective and the door was smaller than it appeared, but the man seemed to tower over everything he walked past. His dark hair was tucked behind his ears and as he approached, Maerys noted the hostile glare on his otherwise handsome face.

"Who are you?" the man snarled.

"A friend of Ominis'. I need to talk to Mr Gaunt," Maerys replied, summoning all of her confidence and willing her voice to be steady.

The man sneered, his dark eyes piercing through Maerys like daggers.

"We don't like friends of Ominis here. Blood traitor."

"Who…?"

"Marvolo. Marvolo Gaunt. And you're trespassing."

Maerys stared up at Ominis' brother in disbelief. He was the polar opposite of Ominis, and Maerys wondered if this was a quirk of their notorious inbreeding or his mother had simply been unfaithful when producing one of the brothers. His skin was tanned, eyes and hair darker, much taller and muscular than his elegant and fair brother. He had none of Ominis' refined air, nor his politeness, apparently.

"Please, I only need a few minutes and then I'll leave. I think Mr Gaunt would appreciate what I have to say."

Marvolo regarded her with dead eyes, devoid of warmth, before drawing his wand and waving an arch over the wards to create a path to admit her. Maerys stepped through the opening as Marvolo strode off without another word. She assumed she was meant to follow him, but his strides were so long she found herself practically running to keep up. His cruel smirk as he looked back at her indicated this had likely been his intention; the humiliation already beginning.

Maerys' heart thumped in her chest as she skipped across the threshold into the manor, eyes darting around at the dilapidated hallway and once-grand staircase now reduced to scuffed wood and tattered carpet. She'd always assumed Ominis exaggerated about his family, down to the financial situation that was a great source of shame for him. To Maerys' dismay, it appeared he'd been truthful, including Marvolo's cruel sneer and intimidating air. 

The house hummed with dark magic, and her gut twisted as she considered all that Ominis had told her. His family were dangerous , unhinged , utterly without conscience . If he had been telling her the truth, Maerys had made a huge lapse in judgement in coming to their manor alone.

Marvolo led her down a dim corridor to an inconspicuous door and leaned against the wall opposite, watching and waiting. Maerys' eyes darted from him to the door, thankful to finally be leaving his presence. She knocked on the wood and waited until a voice called from inside and the door flew open and she was pulled inside by a stream of magic. The slam from behind her and click of a lock indicated that she was now alone with a different man, standing in the middle of the room with his wand aloft.

"Who are you? State your business," he demanded.

Maerys barely had a chance to take in her surroundings before scrambling for words to answer him. This must have been Tiberius Gaunt, Ominis' father. Much older than she'd expected and more reminiscent of Ominis than his brother, his pale skin reflected in the dim light from the oil lamps dotted around the room. He had only a hint of Ominis' beauty; his eyes were cold, narrowed and full of suspicion.

"I'm sorry to intrude, Mr Gaunt. I'm a friend of Ominis' and wished to speak with you about something."

His glare softened at the mention of his son and he lowered his wand, retreating to an armchair amongst the towers of dusty books that lined the walls of the small library. Maerys followed, perching awkwardly on the chair opposite him as he watched with great interest.

"A friend, you say? What could a friend have to say to me, hm? A day after his betrothal, no less. Don't take me for a fool , girl."

Maerys swallowed thickly, a chill running down her spine at the accusation. He was right, of course—her attempt at subtlety was anything but. 

"You're correct. Myself and Ominis have been…romantically involved for some time."

"I see. And you wish to cast yourself into the ring, as it were? What of your heritage, girl?"

"My mother was a witch," Maerys replied, a hint of defensiveness in her voice.

"Just your mother?" he pressed, his nose wrinkling in disgust.

Maerys nodded—she had never been made to feel less than adequate because of her blood status, but the way Tiberius Gaunt looked at her that moment was enough to erase every last drop of her self-assuredness. She knew his thoughts on the matter, and yet she had presented herself before him with a demand; or perhaps it was a plea.

"I love Ominis very much, as he loves me. All I ask is that you give me a chance to prove myself worthy of your family name."

"My son is already a disappointment, I'll not have another besmirch my family's legacy. He will marry a pureblood befitting his own status."

His eyes flashed menacingly as he leaned forward and stood up off from the old armchair. 

"Leave, and I suggest you don't return. Break off your involvement with my son and I'll say no more. Refuse, and I'll do more than scold you," the old man snarled.

The conversation was at an end, and Maerys was more than eager to leave. As she left silently through the library door, she wondered if he might see reason given time to consider the matter. Surely , his son's happiness counted for something ?

The thought was interrupted by the tall, dark shadow that cast itself across her as she stepped into the hallway. Marvolo had clearly been listening to the exchange, perched still in the spot she had left him against the tatty wall.

"I can show myself out," Maerys said, a note of irritation in her voice.

"I don't think you'll be going anywhere just yet, sweet thing."

"What…?"

Maerys gasped, cutting her inquiry short as Marvolo's hand found itself to her neck, his long fingers encircling her throat and squeezing the breath right out of her windpipe. She struggled, clawing at the hand before using the last of her conscious thought to reach for her wand. 

"Incarcerous ."

The spell uttered wasn't her own. Her wrists were bound by ropes, summoned from her attacker's wand, twining and squeezing her skin until it burned. His malevolent stare was the last thing she saw before the scene faded to black, her last thought of her lover and soulmate, wondering if she would ever see him again.

-

Her wand was gone. The thin stick of laurel wood no longer pressed against her hip as she awoke on what appeared to be a cold stone floor. Maerys winced as she moved and found herself still bound, the summoned ropes cutting painfully into her wrists. As her eyes adjusted to the dim light of the room and her head swam uncomfortably from the sudden lack of oxygen, she felt her eyes sting with tears. Thank Merlin, I'm still alive , she thought.

Looking around to get her bearings, she noted the vaulted ceiling and lack of windows, the only light from a conjured flame that sat in a jar too far away to be of any use. She had been bound to a pillar to suppress any notion of escape.

"You're awake, finally. I was beginning to grow bored."

Maerys jumped, pulling an amused cackle from Marvolo's throat as he stepped out of the shadows.

"What are you doing? You know I'm a law enforcement officer, I can have you arrested and sent to Azkaban for this," she spat with false confidence.

Marvolo's face darkened, the smirk falling from his lips as he strode closer to her. Her neck craned painfully to watch his looming figure approach, his wand gripped firmly by his side.

"Are you now? That really doesn't give me an incentive to let you go now, does it?"

Maerys shuddered as the blood rushed from her head and stomach lurched. She'd been trained for this, but at no point had there been an eventuality where she was completely and utterly alone . She should have a partner, or at least someone who knew where she was. She had neither. She needed her wand.

"Why are you doing this?" Maerys asked, almost a whisper, watching Marvolo carefully.

She needed to draw him closer, to see if he held her wand. How she would get it back, she had no idea. One step at a time .

Marvolo took the bait and inched closer, dropping to his knees to survey the defeated look on her face that he'd brought forth with great satisfaction. Her eyes flitted across his broad shoulders and down to his waist, seeing no hint of her wand on his person.

"You muddy our house and then presume to do the same to our family's bloodline," Marvolo growled. "I may despise my brother's weakness but I won't stand for him bringing a mudblood into the fold."

"Ominis is a grown man, he can decide himself who he marries."

Marvolo reached out a long arm and cupped Maerys' cheek as she remained frozen, eyes locked on his with fierce defiance.

"No, my little brother doesn't know what's good for him. No matter how delicious you are, your blood will always be tainted by Muggle filth."

His thumb ran over her bottom lip as he smirked down at her—he was clearly enjoying toying with her. Maerys’ breath quickened as he slipped his digit into her mouth and pressed onto her tongue, pulling a low growl from his throat as she refused to give him the satisfaction of a reaction. Her eyes remained impassive, but the tremble in her shoulders gave away her discomfort.

Marvolo’s smirk turned into a devilish grin as he returned to his feet, the colour draining from Maerys’ face as she noticed his obvious arousal whilst he adjusted his trousers. He was enjoying her humiliation, and she knew from Ominis’ description of the sadistic man standing before her that he wouldn’t be sated by simply holding her hostage.

"I think it's time we taught you a lesson in respect. Crucio ."

-

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong. Ominis had been doing little but waiting after returning home from work, wondering where Maerys had disappeared to. He initially thought she'd decided to head into Diagon Alley, perhaps meet some friends; but as the hours dragged on the dread settled over him as his mind raced through worst-case scenarios. 

Her absence was uncharacteristic. Maerys often made sure to be home when he was, as Ominis did the same—they had so little time together that they made the most of every minute their schedules aligned. The absence of a note was even more concerning, and Ominis had searched every inch of their spare living space for some indication of where she'd gone.

He stood in the living room, twirling his wand in his fingers, deep in thought. He was running out of ideas and he wasn’t one to simply wait, resting on his laurels with dread and uncertainty clouding his mind. He’d contacted her colleagues at the Ministry and any friends he could get hold of, even her numerous cousins had no idea where she was, and showed little concern when Ominis voiced his own.

The final, dreadful thought that crossed his mind was surely too far-fetched to consider. Ominis ran through the previous night, every detail he could remember and word exchanged and landed on the conclusion that where Maerys had found herself was the last place on Earth Ominis would want her.

He could be wrong, and he sincerely hoped he was—though the impromptu visit would raise more questions than he had answers for, he would make some excuse or other; inquiries into his betrothed, perhaps. Ominis holstered his wand, running a hand through his hair with a sigh before striding to the fireplace and finding the pot of floo powder on the mantle. He stepped onto the hearth and threw in the powder, speaking his destination as the green flames enveloped his person, sucking him into the network with an uncomfortable squeezing pull.

He landed with a jolt into silence, not even the soft crackle of a candle filled the room once the floo flames had died away. Ominis pushed his shirt sleeves up and fingered his wand handle and unsheathed it as he made his way through the living room. He knew the manor and its layout, but his wand afforded him an edge in times such as these, as well as being ready for any confrontation should it arise. 

“Homenum Revelio ,” he whispered, his wand vibrating at the presence of someone else in the house and the tip drifting downward.

Ominis was on the ground floor, and there was only one thing that lay below him—the cellar. His heart beat rapidly and pace quickened as he made his way through the hallways to the tiny door that led down into the dank underground cavern. To call it a room would be a stretch—once it had been used to store food and wine, when the family had such things in abundance. Now it was used only as a place for Marvolo to indulge his particularly disgraceful proclivities.

There was no way to be subtle about his entrance; the creaky stairs would reveal his presence immediately. The only thing Ominis had was the element of surprise. He pushed the door open and aimed his wand into the room, casting a preemptive shield charm in anticipation of an attack, but was instead greeted with the heart-wrenching sound of muffled sobs.

Ominis ran quicker than he’d ever done before, bounding down the stairs with little regard for who else might hear him, his wand and the gentle gasps guiding his way to a crumpled body on the floor. He dropped to his knees and his free hand drifted shakily over the figure in front of him; a cotton shirt, soft hair, chilled skin and a sliver of fabric, cutting into plush lips.

Ominis threw down his wand and got to work relieving Maerys of her gag, her coughs and unstifled cries filling the cold, damp cellar. Bile rose in his throat at the thought of her being thrown down here for hours whilst he had pointlessly made inquiries into her whereabouts. The tremor in his hand wasn’t from trepidation, it was from pure, unadulterated hate .

“Ominis, my hands,” she gasped.

He found the ropes, grimacing at the slick skin underneath them, the bindings cutting deep enough to draw blood. Once she was freed, she threw herself into Ominis’ arms, clinging to him for dear life as his rage built to almost unmanageable levels.

“What happened, my love? Was this Marvolo’s doing?”

There would be time to ask the question of how she found herself to be in this hellhole, but for now, he needed to know what had occurred. The amount of wrath he brought down on his dear brother would depend on her answer. Maerys continued to grip him tightly, still crouched on the floor as his hands gently stroked her hair and she steadied her breath enough to reply.

“Yes. I shouldn’t have come, I thought…”

“Please, tell me what he did,” Ominis interrupted, picking his wand from the floor and holstering it once again.

She inhaled sharply before answering as Ominis’ stomach clenched painfully.

“He used an unforgivable curse on me. I…he might have used another, I’m not sure. I don’t remember…”

The fact that Maerys was still alive meant that Marvolo had tortured her, her shaking hands testament to the fact—one of the curse’s aftereffects. Ominis’ head swam as he absorbed the last of her answer, imagining all the possibilities of what his brother could have done with her under the influence of the Imperius curse.

Ominis’ ears could scarcely register her continued talking as a blind rage overcame him, the only thought in his mind now one of seeking revenge. He would pay for what he had done if it was the last thing Ominis did, and he fully expected it would be. Ominis’ death would be a small price to pay if he could take Marvolo down with him.

“Ominis?”

Her voice brought him back to the present, and he stood up to help her shakily to her feet. Ominis needed to get Maerys to safety before he could finish his business here.

“Come, there’s a tunnel here that leads to just outside the wards. Can you stand to apparate with me?”

“Yes, I’ll be okay,” she said weakly.

The walk was as quick as they could make it, through the cramped underground path that led to nowhere. It had been used for many things in the past; smuggling, an escape route, a place to hide dark artifacts that his family didn't want to contaminate the manor house. The tunnel had been blocked years ago and never reopened, but Ominis had used it as a hiding place for years whilst he lived here. Marvolo had no idea it existed, and it had become Ominis’ sanctuary from his brother’s provocations.

“Hold on tight, I’ll get you home,” Ominis said gently.

Maerys gripped his bicep and he turned, disapparating and reappearing in the alleyway behind their house. Maerys stumbled and groaned and Ominis held her steady, leading her inside and straight to the sofa where she collapsed.

“I need to take care of this,” Ominis said.

“Please, Ominis, don’t.”

“Darling, if he knows about you he will not let your escape go unpunished.”

Before she could object any further, Ominis had planted a kiss on her forehead and strode out of the door to return to his family home, to exact his revenge.

-

Ominis crept through the quiet house, constantly on guard. Though his instinct was to shield himself, he knew that it would do little to protect him if he met Marvolo. He cast the charm to reveal human presence once again, ignoring the fainter magical signature in the south wing which was likely his father cooped up in the library. The other was outdoors in the grounds.

Following his wand’s lead, Ominis headed into the cool night air, following the brickwork of the manor house towards the gardens. He had no idea what they now consisted of, only that the once lovingly-planted rows of English roses that lined the gravel path were now overgrown, the thorns prone to catching on clothing. The crunching underfoot wasn’t conducive to a stealthy approach, but Ominis was hoping that Marvolo was too busy indulging in his drug of choice to notice his approach.

The fact that he’d simply left after performing such atrocities on his Maerys only incensed Ominis further; his nails dug painfully into his palms and jaw clenched in intense and righteous anger. He’d often heard people describe this unbridled fury as ‘seeing red’—Ominis found that this state felt like an out of body experience, his actions seemingly made by someone other than himself. He couldn’t have stopped himself if he’d wanted to, and he had absolutely no desire to do so. 

Ominis was correct in his assumption and found Marvolo slumped on a bench, half-sedated and doused in the sickly-sweet scent of opium.

“Ah, there he is. Come to reclaim your whore?” Marvolo slurred, making no attempt at moving.

For reasons he couldn’t quite fathom, Ominis smiled in response, knowing precisely what his next move would be. Perhaps his brother’s words had given Ominis the justification for the flick of his wrist that caused a strangled moan from the bench. There was now no stopping him, fuelled by pure hatred, the spells Ominis fired off were unrelenting.

Marvolo scrambled to avoid the attacks and Ominis was sure he was bleeding heavily judging by the limping and groaning.

“Crucio!”

Ominis spun to the right, avoiding the curse and righting himself, firing off a counterattack.

“Confringo!”

The fire that erupted from his wand warmed his skin, blazing through the air and colliding with something definitely not its intended target. Ominis thought that the garden could have been set ablaze, but the thought didn’t bother him as he continued his evasive footwork.

“Cru-”

“Diffindo!”

Ominis’ severing charm hit its target and cut off Marvolo’s curse before he could finish the incantation. The air was quiet, far too quiet, until Ominis heard a strangled cry and horrific bubbling sound. Something wet hit his face and he flinched, the crunching of gravel marking the moment his brother fell to the floor and gasped his last breath.

Ominis inhaled sharply, the beads of liquid rolling down his face and dripping into his parted lips, revealing the unmistakable metallic tang of blood . The pure Gaunt blood. He wondered if any of that mattered—they all bled the same. His brother’s supposedly superior blood still ran down his face and pooled at his feet, his lifeless body lay crumpled on the ground amongst the scented roses. He could have been a Muggle—in death, the power and influence that came with the Gaunt name meant nothing.

He should have been horrified, instead Ominis only felt relief, and a disturbing amount of satisfaction as the raw power coursed through his veins. The immediate threat had passed, but as his mind cleared, his thoughts turned to the other Gaunt still present on the estate. What would he do when he learned of Marvolo’s death? Ominis knew that the only way to keep Maerys safe was to ensure that his father knew exactly what he had done.

First, he had to dispose of the body. The body . Such a detached way to describe one's flesh and blood. Yet, Ominis found it hard to mourn the loss as he cleared the earth next to the manor wall with a flick of his wand. Only when he touched the still-warm arm of his brother did his gut twist and nausea threatened to overwhelm him until he forced himself to breath deep, shaky breaths.

By the time Marvolo was buried, Ominis was caked in dirt and blood, sweating and trembling as he gripped his wand to cast a fire spell, scorching the wall where his brother's makeshift grave lay. He walked in a silent haze to the house, seeking out the man who had just lost the very last of his legacy in a matter of minutes.

Of course Ominis found his father cooped up in his library, none the wiser as to what had occurred. The shocked silence that met Ominis' arrival told him how he must have appeared—the man rarely had nothing to say. 

"What…have you done?" Tiberius finally uttered after several moments.

"Did you know?"

"Know what?"

"Maerys. Did you know what Marvolo did, here, in this house?" Ominis asked, his voice quiet and deadly.

"What are you talking about, boy? What have you done? " 

Ominis knew then that his father had no inkling of what had happened right under his nose. Too distracted by his own agenda, he'd failed to control his son's impulses as he'd done time and time again. Marvolo's reckless disregard for subtlety and secrecy was always going to be his downfall; only the component of being by Ominis' hand was unexpected.

"Marvolo took her, tortured her, right below your feet," Ominis said coldly, pointing his finger to the floor. "So I buried him. Six feet deep."

"You…you killed your own brother?"

The first time he'd heard fear in his father's voice sent a chill down Ominis' spine, the cloud of rage lifting slightly. What had he done?

"A reminder, father…to not interfere," Ominis whispered with the last of his ability to speak.

He left before his composure broke down, his hands shaking violently as the door slammed behind him and he stumbled back to the fireplace to carry him home. He still tasted the blood on his lips, the sweet smell of the opium lingering in his nostrils. His head pounded and pulse raced, barely noticing that he'd been pulled into the floo flames until he landed in his house to the sound of Maerys' frantic voice.

Ominis fell to the floor, expelling the last of what was left in his stomach onto the floorboards as his shaky arms struggled to keep him from collapsing into it.

"Ominis? Ominis, what happened? Please , answer me," Maerys sobbed, her hands on his back, his cheek, his hair.

He heard her gasp as she realised that the blood wasn't his own.

-

Maerys had never seen Ominis quite so terrified; his body trembled as he struggled to breathe, unable to tell her what had happened. She had a good idea, especially when she realised that the blood that splattered his face and drenched his shirt wasn't his. It had started to dry, clumping in his hair which fell dishevelled in front of his glazed eyes. Oh Gods, what had he done?

Maerys held him for what seems like hours until he finally formed a sentence, and whilst she'd expected it, the words seemed completely alien coming from Ominis.

"I killed him. My brother is dead and…buried."

"Come with me, let's have a shower and get the…dirt off of you," Maerys said gently.

The water ran brown and red for minutes, Ominis turning the temperature high to almost scalding levels as they huddled under the stream. Ominis was slowly coming out of the shock, the shaking leaving his extremities, whether because of the comforting shower or Maerys' tight embrace she didn't know or care. Once they were scrubbed clean, she led him to their bed and guided him to sit. He put up no fight, nor seemed to register what was happening.

"Ominis, I'm so sorry…I shouldn't have…"

"Don't apologise. I can't bear to think of what he did to you," Ominis whispered.

Maerys sat beside him, watching his pensive expression as droplets of water from his hair ran down his cheeks and dripped onto his bare shoulders. His ivory skin prickled with goosebumps from the chill but he made no attempt to move.

"Your father will never bother us again," Maerys said, fingers pushing the wayward blond strands from his turbulent eyes.

"Because of what I've done. I am the monster I've always been accused of being," he said with a mirthless laugh.

"No, because you've shown him you'll do anything to protect me. I love you so much, Ominis."

"How can you possibly love me after seeing what I'm capable of?"

"How can I not love you? You saved me, Ominis."

Maerys sat behind him, straddling her legs either side of his waist and wrapping her arms around his chest. She kissed the trail of beauty marks on his shoulder that led to his cheek, each press of her lips in rhythm with his heavy breath. His heart beat rapidly against her hands, his skin warming under her touch—both were a reminder that they were alive ; something that Maerys could no longer take for granted.

"I love you, Ominis Gaunt," she whispered into his ear.

"I love you, though I don't deserve yours," Ominis sighed.

Her fingers traced the contours of his chest, following the trail of soft blond hair down to his taut stomach as her lips continued to roam his neck. 

"I decide who deserves my love, and I choose you," Maerys whispered against his skin.

Ominis turned and tilted his head towards her, silently asking for more. Maerys obliged by sliding around the bed sheets to face him, lowering herself into his lap and capturing his lips in a fierce kiss. She couldn't have him regret what had happened or doubt her feelings for him—Ominis was her saviour, and she loved him more than she ever thought possible. She told him so with how she clung to his naked form, pressing herself so tightly into him that they might have been one body.

Ominis responded slowly, unsure of whether he deserved such devotion. Their mouths brushed with heavy breaths and Maerys ran her tongue tentatively along his lip. She was met with Ominis' own, their heads instinctively tilting to deepen the kiss as their tongues brushed and lips captured the others'. All residue had been washed from their skins, leaving only Ominis' comforting scent and the lavender soap they'd used—he smelled as he always did, like home .

"Tell me you love me again," Ominis asked gently, placing tender kisses along Maerys' cheek.

"I love you, Ominis. I always will."

Ominis hummed approvingly as his mouth moved to her neck and hands spurred into action, delicate fingers sliding over her bare thighs to gently wrap around her waist. Maerys continued to mutter sweet nothings as he kissed her, his warm skin under her ear sending tingles down her spine and peaking her nipples as they brushed against his chest. 

She ached for him—every stroke of his hand and flick of his tongue quickening her pulse and drew soft moans from her mouth. Ominis responded with sounds of adoration, muttering her name as his arousal became apparent underneath her. His growing erection pressed against her soaking wet heat as her hips rocked teasingly to meet him. Ominis' length pressed into Maerys' slick folds and brushed her sensitive nub, and she moaned and gripped his hair as the friction teased the growing tension in her core.

"Oh, fuck ," she gasped, sliding along his length with increasing fervour.

Ominis held her tightly, pulling her down each time she reached his tip, squeezing precum from his swollen head as his lap became increasingly messy, coated in their arousal. Their lips met again, gasps exchanged into each other's mouths as they teased each other senseless, waiting for one of them to give in. It was Maerys who caved first, too eager to show Ominis the full extent of her love and gratitude.

She slid off of his lap with a regretful sigh, her clit swollen and still throbbing for stimulation, but she would gladly forgo her own pleasure to focus on Ominis first. His own groan turned into a whisper of her name and he fell back on the bed as Maerys took his slippery length in her hand. She shuffled down the bed, lining herself up with his tantalisingly swollen head, running her tongue over the weeping tip and moaning as his salty precum covered her tongue.

He tasted delicious , and each swipe of her tongue she tasted herself, only further spurring her on and dizzying her head with arousal. Maerys adored watching Ominis as she bobbed up and down on his cock; the way his mouth gaped as sinful moans filled the air and his pale cheeks flushed a deep pink as she built his orgasm. Her lips wrapped around his girth, taking him further into her mouth with each movement of her head until she found a comfortable rhythm.

Their combined moans and the wet slurping of her mouth filled the room as she worked him into state, Ominis practically writhing underneath her as his cock hit the back of her throat and she concentrated to control her gag reflex. Maerys could have made him finish then, but the moment demanded a greater intimacy, which Ominis seemed to agree with as his hands gently tugged at her hair or lift her off.

"Stop, please. You feel too good," he sighed.

Maerys gave the base of his shaft a final squeeze, her mouth retreating with every drop of his precum she could gather on her tongue. Ominis shuddered, wrapping his own hand over hers, holding her firm grip still as he controlled the urge to finish.

"I want to fill you, but…but not yet."

Maerys' eyes lingered on his cock, his hand finally leaving hers and setting her free to clamber back onto his thighs, Ominis' arms greeting her with a tight embrace as they exchanged a deep, slow kiss. As she pulled back to look at him, her heart skipped a beat when she met his pale blue irises. 

Merlin, he was beautiful . She wasn't used to seeing him so vulnerable, so submissive to her. It meant the world to Maerys that Ominis trusted her to hand over control in that moment and let her show him how much he meant to her.

"I'm going to go slowly," she whispered.

Her hand reached down between them, lining his tip up with her soaking entrance and pressing her weight into his lap. She gasped as he stretched her, her walls twitching in anticipation of the fullness his girth would provide. Ominis held her tightly, his face buried in her damp hair that muffled his moans. She stilled once his length was inside her, enjoying the sensation of his stiff erection filling her so satisfyingly as she nibbled on his lower lip.

Ominis' hands roamed her back, skimming her waist and gripping her soft behind, his fingers kneading her flesh as his cock twitched needily inside her. 

"You're so warm . You really do feel incredible, my love," Ominis whispered.

Maerys whimpered as his sultry voice filled her ears, the ache between her legs now painful as she longed to feel more of him. With another gentle bite of his lip, she shifted herself slowly forward and back again, giving a small shift of her hips at the bottom of the movement which had Ominis' fingers pressing bruisingly into her cheeks and a growl brewing in his throat.

She did the same again, and again, keeping her eyes on him for every reaction and just to drink in his pleasure. His face was relaxed, flushed and expression utterly blissful as she rode him slowly, humming softly with every breath she took. She brushed her thumb over his moist lips, and he placed a gentle kiss on the digit with a tiny smile which made her heart leap and abdomen flutter. She'd made him smile, even now.

"You have no idea how beautiful you are, Ominis," Maerys said, gazing down at him in complete adoration.

Ominis rolled his hips gently to meet her, a high-pitched mewl escaping her mouth as his cock hit deep inside her. 

"All that matters is you think so…as I believe you're…perfect, in every way," Ominis replied, moans punctuating his loving words.

The pace Maerys had set had quickened with every thrust Ominis met her with, their kisses and touches growing more needy by the second. Her fingers laced through his hair and one hand braced herself against the bed as she continued to grind on his cock, eyes rolling back into her head as he hit her just right at the bottom.

Maerys knew they wouldn't last much longer, her own orgasm building so quickly with the vigorous thrusts she thought the blood rushing from her head might cause her to faint. She was utterly exhausted, but she couldn't stop now, not when it felt so damn good . 

"I'm so close," she sighed, gripping the bed sheet above his head for purchase.

"So am I… f-fuck . Come for me, darling."

"Oh, Ominis…"

Maerys moaned her love's name as she met her sweet release, the waves of pleasure burning her skin as all she heard was the blood pounding in her ears and muffled groans underneath her. She clenched around Ominis' cock, pushing him over the edge with her as he gripped her tightly, hips rolling upwards into her and letting his cum coat her walls with every pulse. They sighed together, exchanging breathy kisses as they rode out their orgasms until Maerys collapsed on top of Ominis, every last drop of energy expended.

They stayed together until their lips were sore and neither could keep their eyes open, muttering their admissions of love and promises as the sun rose and they fell into a deep sleep. Maerys knew that Ominis would do anything to protect her, as she'd known from the moment he had first told her he loved her. Now she knew that particular truth would haunt him, and that she would spend every day keeping him safe from his demons, and she would do it gladly.

[mlwritersguild]

Between Twilight - Ladrien

The response to this prompt comes to us from @rosie-b! (You can also find it on Ao3)

—

She only ever comes in the evening. The quiet moments just before dusk, when the last rays of the sun are still bidding the city goodbye, that’s when she visits him. It was the time that they'd agreed upon, back in the beginning of their unusual arrangement. Then, Ladybug was free from her daily chores, and there were fewer people outside looking up to spot her. Then, Adrien’s schedule was finally empty, and the short gap left at his bedtime — early, for models need their sleep if they’re going to look pretty — could be filled with a visit from his dearest lady.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” she’d asked him in a hushed, anxious voice that first night. She’d looked beautiful in the low lighting, her blue eyes wide and staring at him, his modeling lipstick already staining her lips.

He had smiled in response, moving closer to caress her flushed cheek before placing a kiss there.

“Of course I’m sure,” he’d whispered close to her ear. “You’re all that I’ve wanted for years. If I complained about how I can finally have you, I’d be lying, because I would die for just a glimpse of your smile, Ladybug. Keeping this secret is a tiny price to pay in comparison, and much more than I’d dared to hope for.

“As long as you’re sure, too,” he’d added, suddenly remembering how nervous he’d been only minutes ago while making his confession.

Ladybug had smirked as he’d leaned back, not wanting to leave but not sure if she wanted him to stay.

She’d pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek as she placed her hand on his back, and then dipped him down. The blood had rushed to Adrien’s cheeks as he processed what she’d done, and she leaned down close to him.

“Of course I’m sure, Adrien,” she whispered to him, and when her lips finally touched his, he knew he’d found heaven.

But they were fooling themselves, and they both knew it. Their relationship was born of a dying dream, in the face of the dark nighttime which kills hope and love. In the final moments of the day, at the last glow of light, she could visit him. And then at nightfall, he would be left all alone. That was what they both knew when they’d agreed to this, to the clandestine meetings and the kisses stolen from the very hands of fate.

Just like the daylight, the chance for them to be together was dying, and once they’d caught Hawk Moth (together, though Ladybug didn’t know that part yet), there was no guarantee that Adrien would ever see his lady again, as a civilian or a kwami-powered hero. This was what he had chosen, and most of the time, he was all right with his reality.

But sometimes he wished she could visit him during the day, that they could walk down the streets like real— like openly dating couples did. He wished he could wave her goodbye as she left and not wonder if that final kiss had marked the last one of all time for them.

He wanted to be able to give her roses.

That was one unfairness he hadn’t expected, though Ladybug had, in her wisdom.

“My family would notice them,” she’d told him regretfully. “Maybe just one every now and then should be all right. But more than that, and it will be obvious I’m hiding someone from them, though they wouldn’t know who.”

She was right. So, Adrien never gave her more than one rose at a time, and even those came sparingly. Someday, when they’d revealed their identities and promised to still love each other, he could give her a whole bouquet, Adrien told himself. He would make sure it was the most beautiful bouquet anyone in Paris had ever seen.

He dreamed about it on evenings like these, in the moments where the clock’s counted time was late but the sun’s light still kept the sky mostly blue.

He dreamed to pass the time, because he was waiting for her.

As twilight began in earnest, he began to prepare for her, making sure that his room was tidy and checking his face in the mirror one more time. He endured Plagg’s lazy teasing and fed him cheese to shut him up, then sat back on the sofa by the window, waiting for the sound of a yo-yo.

He closed his eyes and listened as his mind lingered on roses and kisses at the beginning of night.

“You look pensive today.”

Ladybug’s voice surprised him, and his eyes flew open.

“Lovebug! You know I’m always happy to hear your voice, but you don’t need to sneak up on me like that!”

She laughed, the sound loud and clear. “I wasn’t sneaking, my prince. I think you were falling asleep, was the problem. Did you get tired of waiting for me?”

Adrien’s brows furrowed as Ladybug sat down next to him. “I wasn’t,” he said. “Wasn’t falling asleep. Could never get tired of waiting for you. You didn’t tell me not to call you Lovebug,” he pointed out, feeling slightly concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ladybug reached over and folded his hand in hers.

“I’m fine, Adrien. You already know my preferences, so why should I have to repeat them all the time?”

Adrien watched her in disbelief. “You just scolded Chat Noir for calling you Buginette this afternoon. Why are my nicknames special?”

“Because you are!” Ladybug said with a smile that dimmed when he didn’t laugh. “Okay. You looked pensive, like I said, and a little sad. I didn’t want to scold you while you were looking like that. And… you still do, kind of, look like that. What were you thinking about before I came?”

Adrien nearly jumped. “Oh! Nothing! No, it was just a long day, and I was waiting for you, which was fine and you weren’t late and I was okay, really.”

“You were okay?”

Ladybug wouldn’t let go of his hand. That was fine, only he really felt like getting up and pacing or maybe hiding himself in his bedsheets and taking the express elevator down to the center of the earth, so it could hide his embarrassment there.

“I am okay, Ladybug. Really.”

She frowned and watched him closely.

“If you say so. But you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Adrien nodded. “I know I can.” But you can’t, he added in his head.

Or maybe out loud, judging from the hurt look on his girlfriend’s face. Perfect.

“I didn’t mean to say that! And I didn’t mean it like that, either! I just meant, well, it’s unfair for you, isn’t it? That I can tell you anything—" Well, not really. “—but you can only tell me so little, even when you want to say more. It’s unfair to you, not me.”

“Yes, it is,” Ladybug said, chewing on her lip. “Yes, it is unfair to you. Is that what you were upset about?”

Adrien spun around to face her fully. “No! It wasn’t that, I was just— I was wishing I could give you roses. Not just one, but a whole bouquet, or maybe one flower every day, or both. It wasn’t anything else.”

Ladybug still looked unsure. “But I’m the reason you can’t give me more than one flower,” she said slowly. “Are you mad at me? Did I do anything?”

This was going much worse than Adrien had wanted it to.

“No! I’m not mad, I swear! You’re also the reason I have someone to give roses to! And I’m really happy about that!”

Ladybug seemed to relax a little. “Okay. Then, what’s bugging you?”

“That it’s not a good time to make use of that pun,” Adrien joked.

Ladybug was not impressed.

“You know what I meant. If you’re comfortable sharing with me, then please do! I want to be here for you, Adrien. Please let me be.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

Adrien sighed. “I’m not upset. I really am being honest about that. I guess it just bothers me sometimes, that this is all the time we have together. I’m glad we have it, and it’s more than I ever expected I’d have, but doesn’t it seem a little like we’re cursed, that we’re fighting fate doing this?”

Ladybug shook her head. “What do you mean? I thought it was a blessing that we could have this time at all.”

“Well, yes! But haven’t you thought about it? How we can only meet while day turns into night, in between twilight and dusk and darkness? Is this all we’re allowed to have? When Hawk Moth is gone, when you beat him the way I know you’re going to do, what happens? You told me before that you might need to give up your Miraculous. If that happens, how will I see you again? What if this is all the time I’ll ever have with you, and I can’t even give you enough roses to make it feel as special as it is?”

Ladybug’s face softened. “It always feels special enough to me, with or without the roses. Just being with you means so much to me! And, Adrien, I promise we will have more time than this. When Hawk Moth is gone, I— I might need some time, but then I promise I will tell you who I am, under the mask. And we will be together in the day, go on dates in the park and kiss and not worry about the rest of it. I worry, too, you know, but at the end of the day, you’re always there for me. And I think, that’s enough. We are blessed, Adrien. What we have is a miracle. It could never be a curse.”

Adrien smiled and tried not to cry.

“Thank you,” he choked out. “I’m sorry for worrying. That was silly.”

“It was just your big heart showing how much it cares,” Ladybug said, tapping the spot of his chest where it lay. “I could never complain about that, and you better not apologize for it. I love you, Adrien. Just remember, we’re stuck between twilight now, but after that, after the night that follows, then comes the dawn. And we will have it one day. Together.”

“Together,” Adrien affirmed, snuggling into his girlfriend’s warm arms. And they stayed like that, together, watching the stars emerge, waiting for dawn.

—

Want to participate in this month's event? Check out the rules, and send us a prompt!

[jamesunderwater]

a jily microfic - may 2nd: mourning

A/N: okay this is evidently turning into a greater fic, so I've named it and given it a banner, but the plan is to challenge myself to continue it each day with the jily microfic prompts. also...i am so sorry, in advance. @athenasparrow here is your continuation </3 thank you for reading!

a continuation of this fic! word count: 1607 - @jilymicrofics content warnings: underage drinking, underage sexual content, minor manipulation, implied parent death, implied parental abuse

leave out all the rest - linkin park Forgetting All the hurt inside you've learned to hide so well Pretending Someone else can come and save me from myself I can't be who you are I can't be who you are

Lily remembered the sag of his shoulders as he walked away, so caught in the image of it that she failed to blink until her eyes stung and watered. In all the years she’d known him, she had never heard James Potter’s voice sound in one moment so raw, so feral, and in the next so empty. Dead, as though he’d just finished burying her body and was looking down at the padded earth unfeeling. 

She could handle his ferality. In fact, she’d hidden a smirk at first, her body finally coming back to life as he screamed at her - yes, I’ve made you feel something, now make me feel something. Tear me in two. But it was the emptiness that had her mind suspended in midair hours after he’d stormed off. “Good riddance,” he’d said. Good riddance good riddance good riddance good riddance. Yes, she was a phantom that needed banishing. He’d done a good thing.

The whole thing had not started off as an attempt to use him. Really, it had started with very little thinking on her part. She had returned from break determined not to shed another tear for a man who had done nothing but hurt her. Good riddance. Instead, she discovered it did not take much firewhiskey to turn her brain to static, that she could schedule patrols to always avoid Remus, that long, empty corridors filled with sleeping portraits were an excellent place for a prefect to drink unbothered late into the night. 

And one night he showed up, seemingly out of thin air, voice loud and boisterous and always with her name at the tip of his tongue. “Evans! Now what is our diligent prefect doing on the stone floor at 2am?” 

A multitude of universes hung in the air before her, and Lily will never really know why she chose the one in which she teased him into joining her, offered him her flask, and held her breath while his radiance poured warmth over her numbed body. 

It was 4am and they’d spent the last 30 minutes impersonating Binns lecturing on the lewd sexual history of the Hogwarts founders when she noticed him staring, mouth open in a silent laugh, and what she should do next suddenly seemed clear. 

“Where is this side of Perfect Prefect Lily Evans in the daylight hours?” He asked, genuine despite how he tried to tease. 

She shrugged, smirking, “Maybe not everyone deserves to see this side.”

His eyebrows rose. “And I, the lowly James Potter, am deserving?”

“Evidently so.”

His eyes dropped to her lips for the briefest moment, and the anticipation she felt was the first thing in weeks to cut through the endless ache. She let him watch her eyes dart to his mouth, too, and saw the way his chest tightened as he held his breath. It was sweet, that he thought he could ruin the moment. That he thought he had any control at all.

She leaned forward, catching his eye, and there was hunger there. She felt it too, some creature that had been living inside her for who knew how long, more eager than she’d expected. She didn’t know, then, whose hand reached up first, who closed the final inch between them, only that a moment later his hand was in her hair and the heat of his lips on hers was better than any static the firewhiskey offered. She breathed his name between kisses and he groaned, losing whatever control he might have had before. He was pulling her on top of him and she was scrambling to feel his body and they were swimming, they were underwater, they had to be, how else could she feel nothing but his hands on her?

He’d stopped things, that first night. The gentleman she’d never expected, and didn’t want. But every night after they pushed things further, and soon she didn’t need the firewhiskey. The waiting to be with him each night was intoxicating enough, their looks across classrooms flooding her with desire, a dam against the rising current.  

It had been six weeks of this, of meeting in quiet corridors and abandoned classrooms, of her pushing him against the wall before he could say a word, of him nervously slipping a hand up her skirt, of her leaving hickies just beneath his collar line, of him making her laugh even in the middle of the heat of it all, of her pulling back from a kiss just to see the way he grins when he opens his eyes and it’s her standing there. 

But March 14th was her father’s birthday, and no amount of lust kept the thoughts at bay. He would have been 51, he would have been 51; good riddance good riddance good riddance good riddance. 

When James found her that night, she was a few shots into her flask of firewhiskey and eagerly offered him some. “Are you alright?” he asked, and the concern in his voice made her want to slap him. He didn’t know. He didn’t need to know. No one did. 

“Yes, and I’ll be much better when we’ve got some of those clothes off…” He rolled his eyes with a smirk, but she thought she noted a hint of falsity in it. “Drink up!” she declared, motioning to her flask in his hand.

He did, and she was grateful. They seemed to share the same buzz - the feeling that nothing could quite touch them, that time slowed and bowed to their every whim. They stood on abandoned desks and tables and declared the classroom their kingdom, giggled into each other’s arms at the childishness of it all. When things did start, it was somehow sweeter than usual. James touched her earlobe tenderly and she softened into his touch, sighing into their kiss. When he unbuttoned her blouse it wasn’t with the same impatience, and she felt each and every time his fingers brushed over her breasts. This was good - different, enough to distract her wandering thoughts. But she needed more.

They were pressed bare-chested together, he without any trousers, when she said it. “You–you do?” He stuttered, and she felt the hammering of his heart reverberate through her. 

She stood on her toes to capture him in another kiss and said, “yes, please, James,” against his open mouth and when he moaned, she knew he’d acquiesce. 

There was a wide-set bench at the back of the classroom they’d used before. It wasn’t without its awkward moments, but just before, when James had leaned up and looked down at her with the most earnest, caring eyes and asked if she was sure, she’d said, “Yes. I just want you,” and part of her had meant it. Most of her, though, just wanted to feel something different. 

After, she was lying on his chest, and he was tracing images on her back, when she felt it. He traced a flower. And she remembered. And the sob escaped her before she could stop it. 

“Lily?” James’s voice was almost frantic with worry as she scrambled off of him, holding a hand to her mouth. The tears fell, fell, fell, and she couldn’t stop them despite the embarrassment staining every inch of her. “Lily, what’s wrong?” He was reaching for her, but she was stumbling backwards, shaking her head. 

“No,” was all she croaked out, and then it was her flying around the room trying to find her discarded clothing, and him chasing after her, and her shaking him off, and him with those eyes, devastated.

“Lily, I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“James, no, I’m - I’m sorry.” She didn’t meet his eye. Her shirt was buttoned haphazardly, her skirt crooked, socks gone. “I thought - but I can’t. I’m sorry.” And she left him standing there, naked, confused, and - he hadn’t been wrong - used. 

They didn’t speak for five days. 

James gave it every effort to meet her eye, to catch her between classes, even came to sit beside her during dinner in the Great Hall, but by the third day he’d evidently decided to respect her space. She still saw his eyes, though. Devastated, no matter where they were looking. 

Then, one morning, he walked up to her so quickly that she didn’t have the chance to flee. “You’re in mourning.” No greeting, no preamble. He looked down at her on the stone bench and spoke as if he’d solved something. Not proud, but with some feeling like now he understood. 

She stared at him for a very long time. How had he found out? And who was he, to think he knew anything at all? The affection she’d felt toward him slithered down her skin and pooled at her feet. He thought that because he’d had her body, he deserved her tears. That he could dry them. 

“Fuck you, James Potter. You don’t know me.”

He faltered for a second, then seemed to recover. “Don’t I? Why didn’t you just tell me? Lily, I want to be there for you-”

She stood so suddenly that they were toe to toe, knees nearly knocking together. “Did I ask you to? No. I asked you to fuck me, and you did, and that’s that. Leave me alone.”

“Lily!” He’d called after her, and she could still hear it in his voice: care, hope. She threw up in the nearest bathroom before heading to Charms.

[mortyvongola2-0]

Day 1: Praise & Lipstick

A Shame

Pairing: Obito Uchiha x Sex Worker!Reader

Genre: Oneshot, smut, kinktober prompt

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: afab!reader, sex worker!reader, vaginal sex, oral sex female receiving, praise kink, lipstick kink, dirty talk, unprotected sex, body marking, naked female clothes male, strong language

A/N: Tis the first kinktober prompt, sorry for posting late but I do live in Florida and we just had a hurricane so its been a bit ROUGH. I had to pick up a tree on the first and now we're picking up a turned over treehouse. I am going to try my best to keep up but don't expect a post everyday please. Anyway, here we are, hope you enjoy~

Read it on AO3

You had no idea who he was, where he came from, but that was all a part of the job. Most of your clients were vague or went by an alias. What set him apart from the others was the fact that you had never seen his face. Always wearing a mask, the only physical characteristic that was normally visible was his spiked black hair. It looked fun, unruly, like he woke up with it that way and left it, if he ever slept that is.

He’d worn different masks over the years, with different lengths of hair, it was almost like a way to check the passage of time. The masked man had first come to you when you had just begun your job as a special type of conversationalist. His mask at the time was yellow, with black stripes beginning at the left side and ending at pointed tips on the right. A single hole for his right eye. His voice at the time had entranced you, deep and eloquent.

After that, the next you saw him he wore a mask of orange that swirled around the eye hole on the right. Sometimes, you wondered if he was horribly scarred and disfigured, and that was why he wore the mask. The thought made your transactions a bit more thrilling for you, but his lower anatomy seemed perfectly fine. If anything, it seemed too fine. Very healthy. So you didn’t dwell on it, too much.

You saw him in the orange most mask often. It reminded you of candy, but you’d never tell him that. He embodied anonymity and exuded power and arrogance. He never even gave you a name to call him by. He really piqued your curiosity, but you knew asking questions could scare him away; you certainly didn’t want that. Though you were willing to push the envelope, if only a little. “Are you sure you don’t have a name?”

“Are you normally so curious about your patrons?”

“No,” you teased, a coy smile on your painted lips. A manicured finger snuck its way to your chin and you winked at him. “Only the ones I like.”

He didn’t respond, only stood and began to look around the room. You watched him as he milled about, a tilt to your head. The masked man had surprised you with his visit, but then again, he never scheduled appointments. He paid well though, that was for sure, so you never minded his impropriety. He had barged in to middle of your session with your previous client and tugged you from the man by your bicep, not that you minded, the other man had gotten boring after all. And he was always welcome.

You knew he must be a shinobi of some sort, only they were so secretive even during their most vulnerable moments. He lacked a hitai-ate so the guessing game became more fun. Maybe he’s one of the Kage, you wondered. Not that it mattered. It wouldn’t be the first time a man of delicate position found his way to your services, and he wouldn’t be the last.

He picked up one of your tubes of lipstick, the same deep red you had chosen for his next arrival. “This shade is new,” he commented.

“Yes, it’s limited edition. I picked it up last weekend.” You leaned forward, curling your arms around your bent knee and placing your head atop it. “Want some sake?”

You assumed he was glancing at you as he turned, but you weren’t sure. Being what you were meant people looked all the time, you were numb to the feeling. “Pour it for me.”

Pleased, you began to do as he asked. The clear liquid filled both porcelain cups quickly. He sat across from you, the lipstick tube still in his gloved hand. You picked up the cups and smirked. Slowly you spread your legs, revealing your naked sex and loosening the robe you wore. With your midriff bared you deliberately poured both drinks on your navel. A shiver went through you at the temperature contrast, but your body quickly warmed the alcohol as it dripped down your front. “Oops, I spilled them.”

“I can see that,” he tilted his head to the side, his tone flat. “And what do you want me to do about it?”

“Well,” you spread your legs further apart as he leaned forward. “We can’t let good sake go to waste now, can we?”

You were practically purring. He hummed, pretending to be thoughtful. His gloved hand reached forward and ran along your wet skin. He gathered the clear alcohol on his deft fingers and smoothed them down your front in a fluid motion. Those leather covered, wet digits, reached your heated center and began to feel around as if he’d never touched you before. A sigh left your lips, and you closed your eyes and tilted your head back. “The usual rules?”

“Do you need to ask?” The man sounded a bit gruff and you could feel him lean forward.

“No, but I like to hear you talk.”

“Is that right?” There was an odd sound, like a hollow wooden disk clicking out of place. A shiver ran down your spine when you felt hot breath fan against your genitals. He had eaten you out once before, it was short and passionate but addicting all the same. You had tried to entice him into it his previous visit, but he had only been interested in what your body could do for him, which was something you enjoyed showing him. It felt like a blessing to be touched by such fine lips again. “If you’re good, maybe you’ll get to hear some praise.”

“I would love nothing more.”

You felt his tongue first, a strong stripe from the bottom to the top with a bit more pressure added when he reached your clit. “Mmm,” you leaned back on your hands. He swiped his tongue again before focusing in on your twitching entrance, the man pressed his wet appendage inside. As his muscle entered you, you felt the bump of something rough against your swollen bud. “Uhn,” you flinched.

Was that his mask? He pressed his tongue in further and whatever it was pressed against your clit so hard you let out an odd sound. The man chuckled, a rich and deep baritone that made the base of your spine tingle. You had never gotten a reaction like that from him before. “Is something amiss?”

“No, not at all,” you replied too quickly for your own liking, your mask of professionalism beginning to crumble under the abnormal stimulation. The pressure stopped as he pulled back a bit.

“Hmm,” he hummed, his lips kissing against your inner thigh before nibbling on the fatty flesh. He licked his way back to your arousal and muttered. “Hold still and I’ll make you cum.”

“Please,” you uttered softly. The man pressed his tongue into you, his mask pressed against your clit again. You moaned softly, your hands clenched and the knot in your stomach tightened. His tongue swirled and pressed against your front wall; your breath hitched. It was a pleasant pressure but mixed together with the mask against your clit you felt your body thrum unlike it ever had before.

It had been so long since a client had made you cum. And for it to be him? Your favorite? You wanted it more than you wanted anything else. Your back arched, his leather clad hands reached behind you to grab the globes of your ass, tube of lipstick still in one. He kneaded the flesh between his large fingers, pressing you closer to his mouth and spreading your cheeks apart. The man massaged the flesh slowly and your excitement only grew when he started to groan at the feeling of your soft flesh. Your vaginal walls fluttered, and you panted as you asked, “Can I cum, please sir?”

You were so close to squirming, your clit throbbed against the lip of the orange mask and your insides throbbed with need. The familiar knot at the base of your stomach was so ready to explode but you held off, much to your bodies dismay. He continued his assault, his face and tongue pressing even deeper. The mask against your clit almost hurt and you whined. “Please, please, please,” you begged, feeling desperate.

His tongue pulled back and you frown in disappointment until he spoke, “Go on good girl, cum on my tongue. Let me taste the fruits of my labor.”

His tongue pressed back in; his hands pushed your hips further against his mouth. He bobbed his head as he waggled his tongue inside of you and you thrust your hips in time with the muscle. The extra motion added more friction to your clit and with one final drag against the top of your walls you came undone and let out a low moan of relief.

He didn’t linger long, just removed his tongue from your entrance and replaced his mask before he sat up and leaned over you. The man placed one hand firmly near your hip, the one that still held the lipstick tube, and the other he used to gather the slick that had collected on the lip of his mask. He mixed the arousal together on his fingertips and watched as it strung together in a sticky mess. “Your taste is pleasing.”

Your body thrummed. “How should I return the favor?”

“Slowly,” he paused and brought the slick covered hand to your chin. His thumb rubbed against your red-stained lips, back and forth as he seemed to watch you intently. “Torturously slow.” The man pressed against your bottom lip and dragged it down, he smeared your arousal and lipstick down to your neck with his fingers before he began to stroke the tender flesh at your pulse. “I want to watch my good girl squirm and I want to get that pretty shade of red everywhere.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded your head enthusiastically. “All you have to do is command me,” you told him softly. He pressed down against your neck, not quite choking you but adding enough pressure to make you lay back. The robe you still loosely wore fanned out underneath you as he climbed on top. The man’s fingers crawled back to your mouth and circled your lips again, the smell of yourself mixed with the leather and you stared into the hole in his mask as he smeared your red lipstick more.

Boldly, you reached for his trousers and licked his thumb as you glanced at the tent in his pants. You released his stiffened member from its cloth confines and bucked your hips in eagerness. His turgid cock dripped with precum and throbbed as you caressed it with your palm. He was well endowed with a delicious curve that felt like heaven scraping against your walls. “Are you looking for more praise? A reward?” He brought your lipstick back up and used both hands to uncap it and twist it upward. “Or are you that desperate for my cock?”

“You know you’re one of my favorites.”

“Hm,” he seemed to contemplate your words and the lipstick before he brought it to your skin and began writing on your abdomen. “I know I am your favorite.”

“Oh?” The cosmetic on your skin felt silky as it glided along your stomach and up over your breasts.

“The lazy grin on your face when you greet me, like a dog greeting its master, speaks volumes. Your body’s eagerness for me strokes my ego,” he paused his writing to press himself against your entrance. “The way your essence oozes from you like the sweetest of creams whenever I call you good girl tells me all that I need to know.”

He pressed inside of you, torturously slow. Every inch spread you open in that deliciously familiar way that made your toes curl. You wrapped your legs around his waist and squeezed them in an attempt to urge him to go faster; he did not give in. Slowly, oh so slowly, he bottomed out inside of you and you ground yourself against him. It felt so good, he began to slowly drag himself out. “Your velvety walls always rub me so well, they’re so warm and welcoming. I can feel how much they missed me.”

One of his hands gripped your throat while the other went back to writing. You moaned as his hips continued to torture yours, his heavy balls swung against your backside with every forceful push inward and every grind you both did in unison. He ground himself against you, his pelvic bone hitting your clit and making you pant, and you ground yourself against him to feel him swirl your insides like a whirlpool. “I crave your body like a drug,” he finished his scrawling and threw the empty lipstick tube behind him. The dark-haired man gripped your thighs tightly and pushed your knees back to your chest. “So continue to be the good girl I know you can be while I indulge myself to the fullest.”

Immediately his speed picked up to a brutal pace, the abrupt change felt like it knocked the wind out of you and you gripped parts of the robe behind your head to try to ground yourself. “Ahn, oh, yes, oh, haaa,” you squeezed your eyes shut and moved your hips together with his to feel the full pleasure his member provided.

“Yes, that’s right,” he groaned, every muscle in his toned body flexing along with yours to reach the peak of your pleasures. “Feel the pleasure I bring you, let it consume you. Think only of me as others try to achieve what only I can.”

One of his hands left your leg and reached your breast, he rubbed your nipple harshly, aggressively. You knew it would be sore later but that didn’t bother you. All you cared about was receiving more praise and more pleasure from his body. “Nnn, almost there!”

“Go on, cum around my cock. Show me just how good you are.”

You reach your second peak of the evening, and your walls clench around him as you do. He groans loudly and pulls out, with two pumps of his fist he releases right on top of the lipstick words he spent so much time writing. He reaches a gloved hand out and rubs and smears the lipstick and spend together on your abdomen, his head tilted almost in fascination as he does so. Your breathing is heavy as you watch him and he is the first to recover and redress himself.

After he’s finished wiping himself and straightening his clothing you sit up, not bothering to adjust your appearance. It is still your room, after all. “You know you don’t always have to be in such a hurry to leave.”

He ignores you and pulls out his wallet, he places more than the usual amount of bills on your dresser next to your cosmetics collection. As he replaces the wallet he says, “Buy that lipstick again.”

With that he leaves, and you sigh almost as soon as he’s gone. You removed your robe the rest of the way and use it to wipe the remaining spunk off of your abdomen, careful to keep as much of the red writing as you possibly could. After you’re sure the sperm wont drip down your body you stand on shaky legs and approach the mirror by your wardrobe. The lipstick markings read ‘property of’ the name was smudged out by his spend and hands before continuing with ‘touch her and die’.

You pursed your lips together and placed your head in your hands, a disappointed pout marring your features. “He did that on purpose,” you muttered, annoyed that if you had looked at your stomach earlier you would’ve gotten to see his name. A shame.

tagged list: @therantingfangirl @justmyownreality @hashira-mal

|| Next Day

|| Kinktober 2022 Masterlist ||

[rosie-b]

Between Twilight

Figured I'd post the story here too, since that's what I usually do!

This fic was written for ML Writer's Guild, from one of this month's prompts. You can read it on AO3, below, or on the MWG blog! And feel free to send us some more asks to answer <3

She only ever comes in the evening. The quiet moments just before dusk, when the last rays of the sun are still bidding the city goodbye, that’s when she visits him. It was the time that they'd agreed upon, back in the beginning of their unusual arrangement. Then, Ladybug was free from her daily chores, and there were fewer people outside looking up to spot her. Then, Adrien’s schedule was finally empty, and the short gap left at his bedtime — early, for models need their sleep if they’re going to look pretty — could be filled with a visit from his dearest lady.

“Are you sure that you’re okay with this?” she’d asked him in a hushed, anxious voice that first night. She’d looked beautiful in the low lighting, her blue eyes wide and staring at him, his modeling lipstick already staining her lips.

He had smiled in response, moving closer to caress her flushed cheek before placing a kiss there. 

“Of course I’m sure,” he’d whispered close to her ear. “You’re all that I’ve wanted for years. If I complained about how I can finally have you, I’d be lying, because I would die for just a glimpse of your smile, Ladybug. Keeping this secret is a tiny price to pay in comparison, and much more than I’d dared to hope for. 

“As long as you’re sure, too,” he’d added, suddenly remembering how nervous he’d been only minutes ago while making his confession.

Ladybug had smirked as he’d leaned back, not wanting to leave but not sure if she wanted him to stay.

She’d pulled him closer, pressed a kiss to his cheek as she placed her hand on his back, and then dipped him down. The blood had rushed to Adrien’s cheeks as he processed what she’d done, and she leaned down close to him.

“Of course I’m sure, Adrien,” she whispered to him, and when her lips finally touched his, he knew he’d found heaven.

But they were fooling themselves, and they both knew it. Their relationship was born of a dying dream, in the face of the dark nighttime which kills hope and love. In the final moments of the day, at the last glow of light, she could visit him. And then at nightfall, he would be left all alone. That was what they both knew when they’d agreed to this, to the clandestine meetings and the kisses stolen from the very hands of fate.

Just like the daylight, the chance for them to be together was dying, and once they’d caught Hawk Moth (together, though Ladybug didn’t know that part yet), there was no guarantee that Adrien would ever see his lady again, as a civilian or a kwami-powered hero. This was what he had chosen, and most of the time, he was all right with his reality.

But sometimes he wished she could visit him during the day, that they could walk down the streets like real— like openly dating couples did. He wished he could wave her goodbye as she left and not wonder if that final kiss had marked the last one of all time for them.

He wanted to be able to give her roses.

That was one unfairness he hadn’t expected, though Ladybug had, in her wisdom. 

“My family would notice them,” she’d told him regretfully. “Maybe just one every now and then should be all right. But more than that, and it will be obvious I’m hiding someone from them, though they wouldn’t know who.”

She was right. So, Adrien never gave her more than one rose at a time, and even those came sparingly. Someday, when they’d revealed their identities and promised to still love each other, he could give her a whole bouquet, Adrien told himself. He would make sure it was the most beautiful bouquet anyone in Paris had ever seen.

He dreamed about it on evenings like these, in the moments where the clock’s counted time was late but the sun’s light still kept the sky mostly blue.

He dreamed to pass the time, because he was waiting for her.

As twilight began in earnest, he began to prepare for her, making sure that his room was tidy and checking his face in the mirror one more time. He endured Plagg’s lazy teasing and fed him cheese to shut him up, then sat back on the sofa by the window, waiting for the sound of a yo-yo.

He closed his eyes and listened as his mind lingered on roses and kisses at the beginning of night.

“You look pensive today.” 

Ladybug’s voice surprised him, and his eyes flew open.

“Lovebug! You know I’m always happy to hear your voice, but you don’t need to sneak up on me like that!”

She laughed, the sound loud and clear. “I wasn’t sneaking, my prince. I think you were falling asleep, was the problem. Did you get tired of waiting for me?”

Adrien’s brows furrowed as Ladybug sat down next to him. “I wasn’t,” he said. “Wasn’t falling asleep. Could never get tired of waiting for you. You didn’t tell me not to call you Lovebug,” he pointed out, feeling slightly concerned. “Are you feeling okay?”

Ladybug reached over and folded his hand in hers.

“I’m fine, Adrien. You already know my preferences, so why should I have to repeat them all the time?”

Adrien watched her in disbelief. “You just scolded Chat Noir for calling you Buginette this afternoon. Why are my nicknames special?”

“Because you are!” Ladybug said with a smile that dimmed when he didn’t laugh. “Okay. You looked pensive, like I said, and a little sad. I didn’t want to scold you while you were looking like that. And… you still do, kind of, look like that. What were you thinking about before I came?”

Adrien nearly jumped. “Oh! Nothing! No, it was just a long day, and I was waiting for you, which was fine and you weren’t late and I was okay, really.”

“You were okay?”

Ladybug wouldn’t let go of his hand. That was fine, only he really felt like getting up and pacing or maybe hiding himself in his bedsheets and taking the express elevator down to the center of the earth, so it could hide his embarrassment there.

“I am okay, Ladybug. Really.”

She frowned and watched him closely.

“If you say so. But you know you can tell me anything, right?”

Adrien nodded. “I know I can.” But you can’t, he added in his head.

Or maybe out loud, judging from the hurt look on his girlfriend’s face. Perfect.

“I didn’t mean to say that! And I didn’t mean it like that, either! I just meant, well, it’s unfair for you, isn’t it? That I can tell you anything—" Well, not really. “—but you can only tell me so little, even when you want to say more. It’s unfair to you, not me.”

“Yes, it is,” Ladybug said, chewing on her lip. “Yes, it is unfair to you. Is that what you were upset about?”

Adrien spun around to face her fully. “No! It wasn’t that, I was just— I was wishing I could give you roses. Not just one, but a whole bouquet, or maybe one flower every day, or both. It wasn’t anything else.”

Ladybug still looked unsure. “But I’m the reason you can’t give me more than one flower,” she said slowly. “Are you mad at me? Did I do anything?”

This was going much worse than Adrien had wanted it to. 

“No! I’m not mad, I swear! You’re also the reason I have someone to give roses to! And I’m really happy about that!”

Ladybug seemed to relax a little. “Okay. Then, what’s bugging you?”

“That it’s not a good time to make use of that pun,” Adrien joked.

Ladybug was not impressed.

“You know what I meant. If you’re comfortable sharing with me, then please do! I want to be here for you, Adrien. Please let me be.”

There wasn’t much he could say to that.

Adrien sighed. “I’m not upset. I really am being honest about that. I guess it just bothers me sometimes, that this is all the time we have together. I’m glad we have it, and it’s more than I ever expected I’d have, but doesn’t it seem a little like we’re cursed, that we’re fighting fate doing this?”

Ladybug shook her head. “What do you mean? I thought it was a blessing that we could have this time at all.”

“Well, yes! But haven’t you thought about it? How we can only meet while day turns into night, in between twilight and dusk and darkness? Is this all we’re allowed to have? When Hawk Moth is gone, when you beat him the way I know you’re going to do, what happens? You told me before that you might need to give up your Miraculous. If that happens, how will I see you again? What if this is all the time I’ll ever have with you, and I can’t even give you enough roses to make it feel as special as it is?”

Ladybug’s face softened. “It always feels special enough to me, with or without the roses. Just being with you means so much to me! And, Adrien, I promise we will have more time than this. When Hawk Moth is gone, I— I might need some time, but then I promise I will tell you who I am, under the mask. And we will be together in the day, go on dates in the park and kiss and not worry about the rest of it. I worry, too, you know, but at the end of the day, you’re always there for me. And I think, that’s enough. We are blessed, Adrien. What we have is a miracle. It could never be a curse.”

Adrien smiled and tried not to cry.

“Thank you,” he choked out. “I’m sorry for worrying. That was silly.”

“It was just your big heart showing how much it cares,” Ladybug said, tapping the spot of his chest where it lay. “I could never complain about that, and you better not apologize for it. I love you, Adrien. Just remember, we’re stuck between twilight now, but after that, after the night that follows, then comes the dawn. And we will have it one day. Together.”

“Together,” Adrien affirmed, snuggling into his girlfriend’s warm arms. And they stayed like that, together, watching the stars emerge, waiting for dawn.

[youcouldmakealife]

SOTM: Luke/Andreas; settle up or settle down

So very belatedly (this prompt won the Patreon poll in...March), here’s: When Luke and Andreas decided to get back together

Andreas is far too old to be awake right now, especially with a full day of work ahead of him. Though to be fair, staying up half the night wasn’t something he did when he wasn’t too old for it. You don’t make your name in an industry like this without dedicating the vast majority of your waking hours to it, and moderate behavior even in the hours you aren’t working.

The players can get away with shit if they’re good enough, as long as they show up for games and perform, and don’t piss off their coach or teammates in the meantime. And some of the biggest name representation could, presumably, hand off all the grunt work and put their focus into the wining and dining and wooing. 

But you don’t hit the NHL without thousands of hours of practice, and you don’t get to be one of the big names without either nepotism or working your ass off at the age everyone seems to be out into the small hours, rolling out of someone else’s bed and straight to work in yesterday’s suit, still smelling like booze and stale sweat. Andreas is pretty sure Dave would have kicked his ass if he came in looking like that. Possibly literally. Andreas did not get as far as he did, as young as he did, by prioritizing anything over his career. In fact, the only time he did do something that not only didn’t put his job first, but was actively unprofessional, it was, well.

Clearly he has a Luke Morris exception somewhere in the fine print of his psyche.

Andreas is too old for — whatever this is. He had work today, has work tomorrow; he can’t spend ten hours at the office and then stay up until three in the morning. It’s not a sustainable schedule. He would in fact go as far as to say it’s doomed to failure.

And yet.

“Didn’t you say you had a morning meeting?” Luke asks, though it takes a second to filter in, Andreas slow with fatigue and a little come dumb on top of it. 

“Hm,” Andreas says, noncommittal — he’s not entirely sure Luke even said that, the way it was buried, spoken against skin.

“Sleep,” Luke says, more felt than said, and Andreas doesn’t want to. He doesn’t know why — he does have an early morning meeting, he is exhausted, too old for this, too responsible to keep this up, and yet—

“There you go,” Luke says, but it’s soft, and Andreas doesn’t hear him, already on his way to sleep.

*

Andreas gets maybe three and a half hours of sleep — and that’s a generous estimate — but his body still obediently wakes him up before his alarm goes off. Luke’s always been a late sleeper, so Andreas is expecting to find him sprawled out and slack mouthed beside him — he sleeps as deep and hard as a kid tuckered out after a big day, something Andreas has always been envious of — but instead he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, back in some of last night’s clothing, doing stretching exercises for his knee.

His face is pinched, but not with pain — Andreas didn’t realize how easily he recognized pain on Luke’s face until this moment, knowing that Luke isn’t hurting right now. Feeling discomfort, maybe, though it might just be effort. But not pain. Andreas knows what Luke in pain looks like, and it doesn’t look like this.

Andreas is wondering just how many times he saw Luke in pain without consciously realizing it, that he can recognize the lack, when Luke notices he’s being observed, grimacing and straightening up.

“If I don’t do this now I’m fucked at the end of the day,” Luke says, almost apologetically.

“I was just enjoying the view,” Andreas says, and Luke colors a little, ducking his head. He’s always so bashful, which Andreas never understood. When a man looks like Luke does, he’s typically well aware of it, but every time Andreas would say anything it was like a revelation, like he was the first person to ever say it to Luke, or maybe just the first person to say it that Luke listened to, the first person that Luke believed.

Luke’s not someone who looks into a mirror except maybe to eye it sideways. That or to inspect the latest damage he’d sustained, but even that seemed like something Luke would rather not do, and isn’t, thankfully, something he’s had to do for awhile. At least, Andreas doesn’t think so. By the time they met Luke considered fighting a necessary if unpleasant part of the job, and it only became more unpleasant as he got older. Andreas can’t exactly see him picking it up recreationally in retirement.

“I made coffee,” Luke says. “Or I tried. I don’t think I’m smart enough for that thing.”

“Thanks,” Andreas says, though it turns out he has to remake it, Luke over his shoulder, practically taking notes, mumbling, “That’s where I fucked up,” more to himself than Andreas, and Andreas doesn’t know what it means. Not that, obviously, but — he doesn’t know what it means.

“Can I drive you to work?” Luke asks after Andreas is showered, caffeinated, dressed. Not fed: the sole perk of morning meanings is the catering.

Andreas would get to work faster if he didn’t — he doesn’t even know why Luke bothered to rent a car in the first place, it’s not like he doesn’t know what New York’s like — and the later he gets in, the later he’ll have to leave. He won’t miss the meeting, but he’ll have less time to get correspondence done when the office is still quiet enough he won’t be interrupted in the middle of things.

Luke would understand him demurring, especially if he put it that way. Every time Andreas has gotten off work, Luke’s been waiting for him. Not physically, but he’s answered his texts faster than he ever used to, says yes, immediately, to any plan Andreas suggests. Andreas doesn’t ask what Luke’s doing when he’s at work. There’s no good reason for him to still be in New York, especially because he’s never liked it here, and they both know it, and neither of them have said a word.

“Sure,” Andreas says,

Luke doesn’t say anything during the drive other than to cuss out someone cutting him off under his breath, doesn’t seem bothered that Andreas doesn’t either. He knows what Andreas is like in the morning — Andreas wishes that was something that had changed about him over the years, but it hasn’t. It takes approximately two hours awake before he stops scowling at everything. And that’s with a full night’s sleep, which he did not have.

It’s comfortable. That sounds like he’s damning with faint praise, trying to spin a positive out of a negative. He doesn’t mean boring, doesn’t even mean dependable. Not comfortable like an threadbare sweater, a broken in set of shoes. More comfortable like catching someone’s eye and knowing, without a word, what they’re thinking right at that moment. Comfortable like catching up with an old friend and falling back into patterns. Those are both close, but not quite what he means. But Andreas knows what something he needs to hold onto looks like.

“So,” Luke says when he pulls up as close to Andreas’ building as he can find a spot, so almost a block away. His face is wide open, and Andreas wonders if it’s that he can still read Luke this well, or if it’s just that Luke’s so easy to read. Both, probably. Luke’s never been good at keeping exactly what he’s feeling off his face, and right now it’s nerves, right now it’s vulnerability. It makes Andreas want to say yes to whatever he asks, but then, Andreas doesn’t need much prompting for that feeling right now. “I haven’t bought a return ticket yet.”

“Don’t,” Andreas says. “Yet.”

“Okay,” Luke says, then, “Have a good day,” and when Andreas leans over the console to kiss him, gets out of the car, it feels less like playing house this time, doesn’t feel like play at all.

Luke’s car is still there when Andreas reaches his office building, and even though he’s probably too far to see it, Andreas still waves before he steps inside.

[sugdenlovesdingle]

A secret shared (AO3)

Written for the @tarlosweeklyprompts word of the day prompt: Secret (though if you squint you can probably make it work for all of the prompts so far)

Some TK and Andrea bonding for you on this fine Sunday.

Also Gwyn is alive because I said so.

Also also - all of the medical stuff is based on years watching Grey's Anatomy and the like so take it with a *large* grain of salt.

------

TK hadn't meant to end up here. He'd planned to just go home after his shift. Just like everyone else.

The only problem was that home was missing something, or rather someone.

And going home to an empty house was as appealing as almost dying of hypothermia again.

So instead of heading downtown to the loft, he'd gone the other way and ended up here.

He rang the doorbell and waited for someone to answer.

"TK, mijo, I wasn't expecting to see you today. What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

TK forced a smile.

"Hola mama." he said and let Andrea usher him inside. "Everything is fine... I just didn’t want to go back to an empty house after work... I'm not interrupting am I?"

"Of course not sweetheart. You're always welcome here, you know that."

TK sat down at his usual place at the kitchen table, surprised to see there wasn't something cooking on the stove.

He looked around and realised something else was missing.

"Is Gabriel not home?"

"No, he's working late. Why? Do you need to talk to him? I can call him, he won't mind, you know he won't."

TK shook his head, feeling stupid for showing up on his mother in law's doorstep just because he was lonely, when she was alone too, and perfectly fine by the looks of it.

"Are you hungry? Have you eaten today? You have to take care of yourself mijo."

"I know. And I am, I promise." he sat back in his chair and a smile tugged at his lips. "Carlos made enough food to feed a small army for about a year before he left."

Andrea smiled and sat down too.

"And why aren't you at home eating it?" she asked. "Not that I'm not happy to see you of course." she rushed to say and squeezed his hand across the table.

"I'm just... lonely. I miss him. The loft is too quiet, the bed is too big..." TK rubbed a hand over his face. "I feel stupid. It's not like we've never been on opposite schedules and it's not even the first time he's been away for work."

"It's not stupid to miss your husband when he's not there. I bet Carlos is feeling the exact same way." Andrea offered. "I know I still do when Gabriel is working on a big case and I barely see him for weeks. He'll come home to change his shirt and he'll be out that door again. Barely giving himself time to breathe, let alone eat or sleep."

TK smiled.

"That sounds like someone else I know."

"Oh yes, that boy is so much like his father, it's almost scary. The girls are a mix of us both, but Carlos? He's all Gabriel."

"He doesn't see it."

"Neither does Gabriel." Andrea said and gave him a conspiratory wink. "You're staying for dinner right? I ordered pizza but I can never finish a whole one by myself."

TK stared at her in shock.

"You ordered pizza? Who are you and what have you done with my mother in law?"

Andrea laughed.

"My husband is away for work and I was feeling lonely so I decided to indulge myself and order something that's bad for me." she told him. "And then my favourite son in law stopped by to keep me company."

"I'm your only son in law."

"And you're still my favourite." she said and got up when the doorbell rang. She paid for the pizza and tipped the delivery boy more than the kid had probably ever gotten. "One slice or two?"

TK took one slice out of the box and took a bite, even though he wasn't very hungry.

Andrea asked him about his day and filled him in on the latest news on Carlos' sisters and the rest of the extended Reyes family, and TK felt himself relax for the first time since Carlos had left.

"Do you want to stay over tonight sweetheart?" Andrea asked. "You know you're always welcome to stay in Carlos' old room. I keep telling Gabriel we should get a bigger bed for that room so you boys can stay over more often. I hate the thought of you driving back late at night."

TK smiled and shook his head.

"It's fine. I have a shift again tomorrow and it's a long commute from here. I'd rather spend that time getting a little extra sleep."

"Alright but if you change your mind, the offer is there."

"I know. Thanks." TK said and forced himself to have another slice of pizza. "Does it get easier? Being married to a cop?" he asked after a few minutes.

"I'll let you know when I find out." Andrea replied. "Not a day goes by where I don't worry about Gabriel. Or Carlos. Or you." she said and gave him a pointed look. "I saw you in hospital after you'd gone through the ice... I never want to see you like that again."

"I don't plan on doing that again, trust me."

"Good. Because I don't think my nerves can handle that. You're my son as much as Carlos is, I want to keep both of you in one piece."

"I'll do my best." TK promised and nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone buzzed. He quickly checked the notification.

"Is that from Carlos?"

"No." TK sighed. "It's the rookie officer I talked into sending me updates on him. He can't keep his own phone on him when he's out there. The case is coming along nicely and Carlos is doing fine and loves me." he summed up the message.

"That's good isn't it?" Andrea asked and TK nodded, eyes still glued to his phone. "TK? Everything alright sweetheart? TK?"

"Yeah, yeah, sorry, I uh... zoned out for a second there." he put his phone face down on the table. "I just wish I could talk to him for five minutes."

"I'm sure he will call you the second he gets his phone back." Andrea offered. "Or when he gets his hands on any working phone when it's safe for him to do so."

"Yeah..."

"And at least you don't have to wait until he can get change for a payphone or convince someone to let him make a long distance call from a landline."

"You're speaking from experience aren't you?"

Andrea smiled.

"When I was pregnant with Carlos and the girls were still little, Gabriel was away for work too. He'd just joined the rangers and he wanted to impress the other officers. He worked long hours and we barely saw him. My sister, your tia Lucy, was staying with us to help with the kids because I was huge. " she laughed. "I don't think I saw my feet at all after the fourth month. And Gabriel kept telling me I looked beautiful."

TK smiled. His in law's marriage was so different than what he remembered from his own parents. He knows they loved each other and in a way still do, but also they shouldn't be allowed near each other for more than an hour without buffer.

"I remember when I was almost 7 months pregnant with Carlos," Andrea started again. "He was a very active baby. Always moving and kicking. Sometimes it felt like he was doing somersaults in there or performing a dance routine." she smiled, allowing herself to get lost in the memories for a moment. "But then one day I barely felt him. I knew something was wrong but everyone kept telling me that he was just getting bigger and had less space to move around." she shook her head. "I could feel something was wrong. I called the doctor and they told me to relax and that my baby was just resting."

TK frowned, his medical knowledge kicking in.

"They didn't even ask you to come in for tests?" he asked, remember a call a few weeks ago where they'd rushed a heavily pregnant woman to hospital because her baby had stopped moving and she'd called 911.

"It was a different time." Andrea waved his comment away. "I convinced myself the doctors knew best but when I started having pains, I told Lucy to stay with the girls and I took a taxi to the hospital."

"Pains? Were you in labour?" TK asked, trying to remember if Carlos had ever mentioned being born premature.

"I thought I was. But Carlos still wasn't moving and I was panicking. And the worst thing was that I had no way to contact Gabriel. He was in California working a big case with the LAPD and all I had was a number for the hotel he was staying at. All I could do was leave a message for him at the front desk. "

"And did you?"

"No. I couldn't tell him our baby died through a message on a hotel notepad."

"Wait, died? I thought this was Carlos?"

"It was. But I was convinced he'd died. That my baby had died inside of me." she paused to collect herself. "I've never told anyone about this. Carlos doesn't know, Gabriel doesn't know. Even Lucy doesn't know the full story."

"I won't tell anyone, I promise."

"Thank you sweetheart." Andrea patted his hand. "When I got to hospital there was a very sweet nurse on duty who listened to me and just sprung into action right away. She ordered tests and put this gel on my stomach to listen to his heartbeat. I cried when I heard it. I was so relieved he was still alive."

TK let out a sigh of relief that he wasn't about to hear about his husband's heart stopping again.

"So what was the problem?"

"His heartbeat was too slow and the position he was in meant he wasn't getting enough oxygen. At one point there were five doctors in my room arguing about what to do. Three wanted to deliver Carlos via emergency c-section, the other two wanted to wait and see if his oxygen levels would stabilise if they gave me more oxygen."

"What did they do?"

"They gave me an oxygen mask and argued over test results. And I just kept listening to Carlos' heartbeat, praying it wouldn't stop. Until Carla, the nurse, had had enough and took action. She told me she was going to try and make Carlos change position in my belly so I wouldn't have to have my baby without his daddy present."

"And that worked?"

Andrea nodded.

"After a few tries. I never cried harder than when I felt him kick again. That's when I vowed I would always do everything and anything I could to make sure he was happy and healthy and safe." she looked down at the table. "But I know I haven't always done a very good job with that."

"He doesn't blame you." TK told her, knowing her and Gabriel's lack of reaction after his coming out was still a sore spot for Carlos, but he never blamed them for any of the issues he might have gotten from that. Whether or not that was the right or healthy thing to do, TK had decided to leave to him and doctor Ryan, his therapist.

"I know. But I blame me. I never asked him about his love life. I never asked him about boys like I did with the girls... I didn't know how to talk to him about that part of him and made him feel like he couldn't talk to us, to me. If I could go back in time..." Andrea trailed off." Parenting is a hard job, mijo, you'll see when you and Carlos have kids of your own. "

TK glanced at his phone again before taking a deep breath and looking his mother in law in the eye.

"That might be sooner than you think. We met with someone from an adoption agency before Carlos went away and we've officially been approved. I got an email from our case worker earlier but didn't see it until I got the update on Carlos." he explained. "They will have to do home visits and everything when someone chooses us... But it's a first step... To us becoming parents." he beamed. "We never thought it would happen this fast."

Andrea got up and rounded the table to hug him.

"I'm so happy for you. You boys are going to make wonderful parents."

TK happily returned the hug and let his mind drift to a moment in the hopefully not too distant future where he would wake up in the middle of the night to find Carlos feeding their son or daughter, or maybe dancing around the living room with them to get them back to sleep.

Suddenly TK's phone buzzed again and when he picked it up he saw a video call request from an unknown number.

He debated rejecting it but his curiosity got the better of him and he hit accept.

The screen went black for a second but then Carlos' tired but smiling face appeared.

"Hey babe." he said casually, like they'd seen each other that morning and he was just downtown at the precinct.

"Hey baby." TK happily greeted him. "Did you steal someone's phone?"

Carlos laughed.

"No, just borrowed. With their knowledge." he added with a wink. "We just caught the guy. It's all over."

"It is? Are you sure?"

Carlos nodded.

"Do you want me to put sergeant Grant on to fill you in on the case? I'm sure she'll be happy to. This is her phone after all."

"No, not unless she can tell me when I can expect my husband to be back where he belongs."

"Soon." Carlos promised. "As soon as I get my own phone back, I'm booking a flight and I'll let you know when I'll be home."

"Maybe I can convince Judd to give me lift in the rig and turn on the sirens so we can get onto the tarmac. His first official emergency as captain" TK said, only half joking.

"Please don't. I don't want Judd to lose his job this soon after he started it for misuse of city property."

"Says the man who flashed his badge to get past airport security and nearly knocked me to the ground because he hugged me so tight."

"You nearly died! In the air!" Carlos protested and next to TK Andrea laughed. "Wait, are you at my parents' house?"

TK moved the phone a little so Andrea would fit in the frame too.

"Hola mijo. TK and I are having a mother and son night. We ordered pizza."

"You ordered pizza? Who are you and what have you done with my mother?"

"I said the same thing!" TK laughed.

"I'm allowed to indulge myself every now and then." Andrea told him. "Be safe out there sweetheart, te amo." she blew him a kiss.

"I will mama. Te amo." Carlos promised.

TK turned the phone back to himself.

"And I love you too. And when you get home I'm going to teach you the meaning of taking some time off to spend with your husband."

"Already taken care of. I have two weeks off the second I land in Austin."

"Detective Strand-Reyes, we're ready to get out of here." someone said off screen.

"Ok, I'll be right there." he turned back to TK. "I have to go, but I promise I'm on the first flight out of here. Even if I have to fly in the cargo hold." he said and TK had no doubts he meant it.

"See you soon baby. I love you."

"I love you." Carlos replied and ended the call.

"Aren't you going to tell him about the adoption news?" Andrea asked.

"As soon as he's home. I want to see him and be able to hold him and kiss him when I tell him."

Andrea smiled.

"he won't hear it from me. But when the time comes, I want to be the first to know so I can go baby clothes shopping for my grandchild. And I get babysitting privileges."

TK laughed.

"Deal. Though you'll probably have to compete with my mother on that."

"She's in New York, I can take her."

[eisukevint]

Hello, not to bother you or anything, but can you do a post about how the audition managers would react to MC being annoyed and irritated because they have to wake up? No pressure!

hi!! dw youre not bothering at all <3 also i havent written smth in a long time so pls bear with me i was on like a hiatus. as @cupidocherie says and i quote "eisukevint comeback 2023 ???" anyways i hope you enjoy this headcanon!

Prompt: Tres Spades’ hosting an important event which requires you to put in extra hours, more so than other employees. The fatigue from the overtime and your disrupted sleep schedule has caused you to be grumpy and your boyfriend is not helping.

↬ Eisuke Ichinomiya

You've been working overtime for an entire week now and your body is exhausted. Not to mention Eisuke's libido is unparalleled so you're having a rather rough time to catch up with him. One night, Eisuke comes home to find you already asleep. He doesn’t mind though because he knows how how you’ve been working hard. What he didn’t expect was the morning after. There you are, still asleep even though there’s only ten minutes left until your shift starts. Not to mention, he can’t function properly without his beloved’s coffee so he goes to wake you up. He’ll call your name lightly at first but that doesn’t work because you’re a heavy sleeper so he’ll try shaking you a bit causing you to huff and puff and turn away from him in annoyance. He’s mildly surprised but also finds it amusing because you almost never forget to make him his coffee. “Hey, (Y/N), wake up. It’s almost 9:00.” At that you’ll whine causing Eisuke to chuckle. “What about my coffee though?” You glare at him slightly and tell him to drink room service coffee for just one morning. He’s fully aware that you’ve been labouring arduously for his sake so just for you, he’ll suck it up and survive through the day without his precious coffee. You just looked so adorable pouting at him like that because you didn’t want to get up, he couldn’t help but give in. He’ll let you sleep throughout the day and call Kenzaki to tell him that you’ll be taking a few days - no scratch that, a full week off so your fatigue can wear off. He’ll order room service for you and write a note, telling you to eat once you wake up. Let's be honest, this man loves cuddles so he’ll cuddle you to your heart’s content.

↬ Soryu Oh

This man would be flabbergasted. He wakes you up so you won’t be late to work but almost staggers when you glare at him exasperatedly. He’ll be worried at first because where is his sweet and beautiful (Y/N) who always wakes him up with the most charming smile on her face? He’ll ask you what’s wrong because he for sure thought it’s that time of the month and you might be in pain so he’s kind of relieved when you tell him that the event being hosted at the hotel caused her overtime and she’s super tired. “Oh, i’m glad it’s not something serious.” Pats your head and tells you that he’ll make breakfast for you and there’s no need for you to get up. It’s a little too late when you realise what Soryu had said. Hurriedly getting out of bed, you dash to the kitchen and bang your head against the wall when you see what went down.There you see Soryu in front of the cooktop, a mess from head to toe and God knows how many cracked eggs in the dust bin. He smiles sheepishly because he’s very well aware that he just increased you work load. No worries though, he’ll still help you clean up and tuck you into bed after it’s all done. He’ll call Samejima and tell him that he’ll come to the ice dragon’s headquarter later in the day so he can make up with you with cuddles. He’ll eventually get in with you and give you little pats on the back so you can sleep peacefully. might call eisuke to lesser your work

↬ Mitsunari Baba

Baba’s back from one of his missions. You’re still in bed though and it’s rather unusual because by this time you’re getting ready for work. Ponders over the reasons that are keeping you from waking up. In the end he decides to prepare breakfast for you. Egg and toasts, sunny side up. He brings the breakfast to you like the magical, fictional boyfriend he is and wakes you up. Your mind swirls and you can’t think straight since your peaceful sleep’s been disrupted. You raise a hand to swat him away and tell him to buzz off. He’s all pouty because you pushed him away but nevertheless, he tells you to have breakfast. Helps you sit up and offers to feed you to which you happily oblige. He adores you so much. Your grumpy face is his new favourite thing. He texts Eisuke to let him know that you’ll be taking the day off. Snuggles you and peppers your face with kisses until you fall back asleep.

↬ Mamoru Kishi

One of the world’s greatest mysteries, how did Mamoru Kishi manage to wake up earlier than you? He checks your temperature, it’s normal. Then why are you still sleeping? He checks the clock and it’s time for your shift. “Get up, it’s nine. Don’t you have to go to work?” This little shit has woken you up from your peaceful slumber and you’re absolutely livid. “Shut up Mamo, I can’t. One more day and you’ll have to arrest me for murder.” He doesn’t show it but he’s actually worried about you. Probably guessed that you’re just tired from work. He’s like, “Aight, i’ll call Eisuke then.” Gets into bed with you and spend the entire day sleeping. Later when you wake up, you’re full on panicking and chanting ‘he’s gonna fire me’ so Mamoru saves you the trouble of apologising to devil boss ichinomiya. When you’re fresh and done with dinner, you tell him all that has happened and why you were so worn out. Hugs you and tells you it's alright. You both end up going back to sleep. couple goals fr

↬ Ota Kisaki

A fucking tease. He saw the opportunity and took it. There you were, sleeping in all your ethereal glory, with drool trickling down the corner of your mouth. Ota simply couldn’t resist. Phone out, camera on, he took pictures from every angle possible. He would’ve been the biggest idiot if he hadn’t captured this moment. And when he’s satisfied, he wakes you up. Oh no he didn’t. If he called you his cute Koro before, you were surely no less than a dinosaur right now. Hair flying in all directions, eyebags darker than Soryu’s soul and drool marks on your mouth. “OOOO SOMEONE’S CRANKY.” There’s no break with this guy and he’s certainly not helping right now. First of all, you know you have to go to work so your mood deteriorates progressively and then this guy makes matters worse by showing you those horrendous pictures.You chase him around the penthouse to strangle him once and for all and he’s laughing like a maniac. Eventually you get tired so you give up. All the fun aside, he worries about you so he covers you in his fluffiest furry blankets and kisses you on the forehead. Cuddles you so you sleep warm and tight.

aight, i hope you like this! eisuke one is so self indulgent lmao.