#「 ✧° i don’t really think i just talk — int. ✧° 」

[j-partneringrime]

Rachel Amber is such a good character and I don’t get the amount of hate she gets. I feel like people who are judging her based on some of her actions really don’t understand her character, because that’s exactly what happens in the games. In the first game, most people who talk about rachel say how popular she was or how beautiful she was, and how cool she was at parties or how good she was at modelling, almost everything said about rachel from people other than chloe is stuff like that. the way they talk about her to max, who never met her, really seems like they don’t view her a as an actual person and more as an idea, they let their idea of rachel overshadow who she actually was and what she actually did and felt, she was always the popular girl or the party girl or something like that, she was always “rachel amber” instead of just rachel amber (if that makes sense). And rachel leaned into that assumption of her a bit but not in a lying, manipulative way like some people say, but in a similar way to chloe being known as a trouble maker and a rebel, which made her act like that more than she would’ve normally, without that expectation of her. It’s just so heartbreaking to see after rachel’s death that most people who she knew, when asked about her, don’t actually talk about what she was actually like as person. And that’s shown even more while she was alive in BtS, that everyone has an idea of her but no one truly knows her, even her parents think of her as their perfect, smart, polite, always good daughter, which isn’t who she is, I mean it’s part of her and everything else people think of her aren’t lies, but they’re only part of her. And chloe is the only person we ever see rachel fully open up to and when talking about rachel, actually talks about what she was like as person and the full person what she was, not just the idea that people got from her. That’s why it’s so sad and mischaracterising when people say she was using chloe and manipulating her, because chloe was the only person she ever let her herself fully be free with and without any expectations of her, including her own parents. I don’t understand how people can see their relationship and think it’s all fake from rachel’s end, especially since the ending of BtS and the big final decision is about the trust they have in each other and how rachel trusts chloe completely, because the final choice of whether to tell her the truth or not is very much framed as either don’t tell her and save her the pain of losing her father, which chloe understands and also knows how much rachel needs her family right now, or do tell her because rachel has complete trust in chloe and to not tell her would be to betray that trust, and to betray the only real relationship rachel has, and to view that thinking rachel doesn’t care about chloe removes all meaning from that moment. That moment is literally about how much trust rachel has in chloe and how much she cares about her and the choice you make is deciding if you are going to be worthy of that trust and love that rachel is giving you or if you’ll betray it and hide something incredibly meaningful from her when she needs someone to be there for her more than ever. And I feel like that trust between them is what ends up helping rachel open up more after BtS and what lets rachel let down some of walls when she and chloe hang out with other people, like steph and mikey or justin and trevor. Rachel is an amazing character who deserved much better from both in universe and real life. She deserved to live, she deserved to get out of Arcadia bay with chloe, she deserved to meet max and she deserves to be seen as she is by the fandom instead of the strange evil and manipulative idea some have of her. Rachel Amber is an amazing character, and deserves all the love <3

Also the argument at the junkyard, really shows just how much people’s perception of rachel affects her, that chloe, who she has never really spoken to before and only interactions are yesterday at the concert and today skipping school, both of which are good days for them and go against what people think of rachel, after all that chloe still pushes and kind of forces the ideas and assumptions about rachel on her, even though none of her experiences with rachel fit that perception of her, she still uses it against her, because that’s just how she’s known sadly. Which I don’t fully blame chloe for because both her and rachel weren’t in the best mindset during that fight and literally everyone has that perception of her so chloe leaning into that perception of her is believable but you know, it still happened.

(btw these are more my thoughts about her from an in universe perspective, not how she was written irl, because I know some of the stuff I mention, like how people talk about her in LiS 1, is because of the story and how her character is purposefully written and meant to be viewed)

[moonselune]

Hi! Could I request something? I just saw you accept new request again! I was thinking of yearning. Them yearning for oblivious tav.

I just love a good old yearning prompt

yesssssss the yearning the pining the dramaaa

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Karlach:

Karlach was trying her best to keep it together. As she sat by the campfire, her eyes kept drifting toward you, her massive frame leaning slightly forward as if she could somehow close the gap between you just by willing it. You were tending to a few weapons you’d scavenged earlier in the day, completely oblivious to the way her molten eyes lingered on you, the way her hands fidgeted with a piece of stray leather to distract herself from the ache in her chest.

Wyll, sitting nearby with a mischievous grin, had noticed. Of course, he had noticed. The Blade of Frontiers had a knack for picking up on unspoken emotions, and Karlach was as subtle as a roaring forge.

“You know,” Wyll began, his voice low and teasing as he leaned toward Karlach, “if you keep staring at them like that, you’re liable to set the poor one on fire.”

Karlach froze, her cheeks flushing as embers flickered to life along her horns.

“What?” she whispered sharply, her voice cracking. “I wasn’t staring! I was just—”

“Yearning?” Wyll supplied with a grin, leaning back casually.

“I don’t yearn,” Karlach snapped, though her voice lacked conviction.

“Oh, come now,” Wyll said, his tone smug. “The sighing, the pining, the tragic glances when he’s not looking—it’s downright poetic.” He tapped his chin theatrically. “It’s almost enough to compose a ballad.”

Karlach shot him a glare, her flames flaring slightly around her shoulders. “Wyll, I swear, if you don’t shut it—”

But it was too late. Her embarrassment sent her infernal engine into overdrive, and the flames on her body surged. The sudden flare caught your attention, and you glanced up from your work.

“Karlach?” you called out, your voice filled with concern as you stood and crossed the campfire toward her. “Are you okay?”

The sheer earnestness in your tone made her heart lurch painfully in her chest. She quickly tried to wave you off, her hands fanning at her shoulders as if she could dampen the flames.

“It’s nothing! Just—hot, you know?” she stammered.

“Well, yeah, you’re always hot,” you said, grabbing a nearby waterskin. “But this seems worse than usual.”

Karlach froze, her eyes going wide at your words. Did you—did you just call her hot? Surely, you didn’t mean it like that, right?

“Here, let me help,” you said, uncapping the waterskin.

“No, no, really, I’m fine—”

Too late. You doused her with a splash of water, and instead of calming her flames, it only made things worse. The steam hissed around her, mingling with her rising panic, and her flames flared even brighter.

“Gods, I’m sorry!” you exclaimed, looking horrified. “Did that make it worse?”

Karlach buried her face in her hands, groaning loudly. “No, no, it’s fine, just—don’t worry about it.”

Wyll, watching the scene unfold, laughed openly now. “You’re really outdoing yourself, Karlach. I think the entire camp will see those flames soon.”

You shot Wyll a confused look. “What’s he talking about?”

Karlach peeked through her fingers, her flames dimming slightly as her mortification reached its peak.

“Nothing! He’s just… being a prat,” she said quickly, glaring at Wyll, who only grinned wider.

“I’d call it encouragement,” Wyll said lightly. “After all, someone here needs to take a hint.”

You blinked at him, clearly puzzled, but before you could ask what he meant, Karlach stood abruptly, the ground under her feet crunching as her weight shifted.

“I’m gonna, uh, go check on—anything else,” she muttered, stomping off toward the edge of camp.

You watched her go, bewildered, before turning back to Wyll. “Did I do something wrong?”

Wyll chuckled, shaking his head. “Not wrong, no. Just oblivious. Don’t worry—you’ll figure it out eventually. Maybe.”

You frowned, glancing back toward where Karlach had disappeared into the shadows, her flames still faintly flickering in the distance. You didn’t know what you’d missed, but something about the way she’d looked at you before she left lingered in your mind, warm and unexplained.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Minthara:

The campfire crackled gently, casting a warm glow across the assembled group. You sat on a log, sharpening your blade, blissfully unaware of the undercurrents running through the evening.

Minthara, sitting a few paces away, had her sharp red eyes trained on you, a faint furrow in her brow. Her usual composed demeanor was slightly off tonight—her movements a touch too deliberate, her glances toward you lingering just a second too long.

Shadowheart, one of the resident camp gossips, noticed. She always did.

“Why don’t you just say something, Minthara?” Shadowheart drawled lazily, her lips curling into a smirk as she toyed with a loose strand of her hair. “It’s not as though subtlety is your strong suit. Or theirs, for that matter.”

Minthara’s sharp gaze snapped toward her, irritation flashing across her face.

“I do not need your advice, cleric,” she said coolly.

“Oh, I think you do,” Shadowheart said, undeterred. “Because whatever it is you’ve been doing clearly isn’t working. They haven’t even noticed.” She tilted her head toward you, who were now carefully oiling your weapon, oblivious to the tension building around you.

Minthara’s grip on her dagger tightened, her knuckles turning white. “They have other matters to attend to. The fault lies not with my approach but their… distraction.”

Shadowheart chuckled. “Distraction? They’re so dense they probably think the moonrise is flirting with them. You’ll have to carve it into the side of their tent before they catch on.”

That was the last straw. Minthara stood abruptly, her dark cloak billowing behind her as she marched across the campsite toward you.

“Minthara?” you said, startled as her shadow fell over you.

Before you could say another word, she grabbed you by the front of your tunic and pulled you to your feet with a surprising amount of force. Her crimson eyes burned with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place.

“You,” she snapped, her voice ringing out across the camp, “are impossibly blind.”

“W-what?” you stammered, your mind racing to figure out what you’d done wrong this time.

“I have fought by your side,” she began, her voice rising. “I have trusted you, protected you, respected you. I have given you every sign imaginable, and yet you remain oblivious to the fact that I—” She stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath, as if even saying the words aloud were a battle she needed to win. “That I desire you, you fool!”

The camp went silent. Even the fire seemed to crackle a little softer as everyone turned to stare.

You blinked, utterly dumbfounded. “You… you desire me?”

Minthara groaned, her head tipping back in exasperation before she fixed you with an incredulous look. “Yes! Must I spell it out further? Or perhaps I should inscribe it on your blade since that seems to be where your attention is always focused!”

Shadowheart, who had been watching the entire exchange with barely suppressed laughter, finally burst out into an uncontrollable giggle.

“Oh, gods, this is better than I could’ve hoped,” she said, wiping a tear from her eye.

Minthara turned her glare on her, her lips curling in irritation. “If you say one more word, Shadowheart, I will—”

“Okay, okay,” you interrupted, holding up your hands. “Everyone calm down.” You turned back to Minthara, your voice softening. “I’m sorry if I missed the signs, Minthara. I honestly didn’t realize.”

Her anger seemed to waver, replaced by a flicker of vulnerability.

“How could you not?” she asked, almost to herself. You hesitated, then placed a tentative hand on hers, still gripping your tunic.

“Because I’m an idiot,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “But I’m an idiot who’s honored and… maybe a little thrilled by what you just said.”

For the first time that evening, Minthara seemed at a loss for words. Her lips parted slightly, her sharp demeanor softening as she searched your face.

“Thrilled, you say?” she murmured, the barest hint of a smirk returning.

“Thrilled,” you confirmed, your cheeks warming under her intense gaze.

The tension in the air shifted, no longer charged with frustration but with something warmer, something promising. Minthara released your tunic, smoothing it out almost absently. “Then perhaps next time, you won’t require such… dramatic measures to understand me.”

Shadowheart made a kissy noise behind you, and you shot her a glare over your shoulder. Minthara, however, ignored her entirely, her focus solely on you.

“Now,” she said, her voice back to its usual measured tone. “Shall we continue this conversation somewhere with fewer interruptions?”

You nodded, feeling a grin spread across your face. “Lead the way.”

As you walked off together, Shadowheart’s laughter echoed behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. For once, the fog of obliviousness had lifted, and you were exactly where you wanted to be—at Minthara’s side.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Lae'zel:

Lae’zel had always been a force of nature—her sharp tongue, battle-hardened demeanor, and unyielding confidence left no room for doubt. And that’s exactly how she preferred it. To anyone observing her, she was the epitome of githyanki discipline and control. But deep down, behind the steel exterior and fiery eyes, she was at war with herself.

She had a massive, undeniable crush on you.

It was maddening. Every time you smiled at her or even so much as glanced her way, her heart would race—a sensation she would have sworn was impossible for her kind. She had tried everything to make her interest known: sparring sessions where she pushed you to your limits (and a bit beyond), blunt declarations of your 'adequacy' in her eyes, and even offers to 'crush your enemies together in glorious combat'. But somehow, none of it seemed to land.

Instead, you remained oblivious, flashing her that infuriatingly kind smile and treating her like a valued ally rather than someone she desperately wanted to claim as her partner.

One day, during a training session, Lae’zel’s frustration reached its peak. She had you pinned beneath her, her blade at your throat, and instead of fear or admiration, you chuckled.

“Nice move,” you said, your grin wide. “I’ll have to remember that one.”

She grit her teeth and growled, pressing the blade a little closer—not enough to hurt, but enough to make her point.

“You do not take me seriously!” she snapped.

You raised an eyebrow. “What are you talking about? You’re one of the most serious people I know.”

“Not in battle, fool!” she snarled, pulling back and stalking away, her blade sheathed with a sharp clang, as you walked bewilderdly back to your tent.

From a short distance, Halsin, who had been watching the training with an amused glint in his eye, stepped forward to intercept Lae’zel. She stopped abruptly, glaring at the druid as if daring him to speak.

“Lae’zel,” Halsin said in his calm, measured tone, “may I offer you some advice?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You may offer. I will decide whether it is worth hearing.”

He chuckled, unfazed. “I’ve noticed your… interest in our leader.”

Her nostrils flared, and she crossed her arms. “And what of it?”

“You are a warrior, and I admire your strength,” Halsin began, “but perhaps your methods of courtship are… misplaced.”

“What nonsense is this?” she scoffed. “I have made my intentions clear. I have praised their competence. I have challenged them in combat. What more is required?”

Halsin smiled gently. “Perhaps a softer touch. Words that reveal your feelings without the shield of aggression. A gesture that shows your care rather than your strength.”

Lae’zel looked utterly baffled, as if he had just suggested she surrender to a mind flayer.

“Softness is weakness,” she spat.

“Not always,” Halsin countered. “Sometimes, it takes more strength to be vulnerable than to wield a sword.”

She opened her mouth to retort but found herself at a loss. Instead, she grumbled something unintelligible and stalked off, leaving Halsin shaking his head with a knowing smile.

The next morning, Lae’zel approached you at camp. There was an uncharacteristic stiffness to her posture, as if she were preparing for battle, yet her hands were empty.

“Leader,” she began, her voice clipped but quieter than usual.

You looked up from your map, offering her that same smile that never failed to undo her. “What’s up, Lae’zel?”

She hesitated, the words catching in her throat. For a moment, she considered abandoning this foolishness and returning to her usual methods. But Halsin’s advice echoed in her mind, and she forced herself to continue.

“I… value your presence,” she said, the words sounding foreign and awkward.

Your brows furrowed in confusion. “Uh, thanks? I value yours too.”

“No, you do not understand,” she snapped, then took a deep breath to steady herself. “I… value you. Your strength. Your wit. Your… idiotic charm.”

Your confusion deepened. “Lae’zel, are you feeling okay?”

She growled in frustration, her hand twitching toward her sword out of habit before she forced it to her side. “Do I need to spell it out for you, fool?”

“Apparently,” you said, still clueless but clearly trying to follow.

She stepped closer, her amber eyes burning into yours. “I desire you, leader. As my equal. My partner. My… lover.”

The words hung in the air, and for the first time, you saw Lae’zel in a new light—not just as a fierce warrior, but as someone deeply passionate and utterly vulnerable in this moment.

“Oh,” you said, the realization dawning on you. “Oh.”

Her jaw tightened, and she crossed her arms defensively. “If you find this amusing, I will—”

“I don’t,” you interrupted, a small smile playing at your lips. “I just didn’t think—well, I didn’t know.”

“Because you are blind,” she muttered, though there was no real venom in her tone.

You stepped closer, reaching out tentatively. “Lae’zel, I’m flattered. Truly. And… I’d like to see where this goes.”

Her eyes widened slightly, and for a moment, she looked as though she didn’t quite believe you. Then, with a sharp nod, she straightened her back and let a rare, genuine smile grace her lips.

“Good,” she said simply. “Now, let us prepare for the day. We have enemies to slay, and I will not let them distract you from what is ours.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, warmth blooming in your chest. Lae’zel might not have mastered the art of softness, but in her own way, she was perfect.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart had always been composed, her expression a careful mask of neutrality, but recently, every time she caught sight of you, her calm façade wavered. Her chest tightened, her thoughts scattered, and her usually sharp words became softer, laced with an uncharacteristic warmth. She knew the truth of it: she had fallen for you. Hard.

And yet, despite her every effort to show you her feelings, you remained utterly oblivious.

At breakfast that morning, Shadowheart decided to take another approach. She brushed past you as you prepared the fire, the faint scent of lavender trailing in her wake.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice soft but laced with what she thought was a hint of allure.

You looked up, smiling warmly. “Morning, Shadowheart. Did you sleep well?”

She nodded, sitting beside you with deliberate closeness. “As well as I could, knowing what awaits us each day. And you?”

“Fine, thanks. Just trying to get this fire going,” you replied, your focus returning to the task at hand.

She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a murmur. “You’re very skilled with your hands. It’s… admirable.”

You blinked at her, utterly missing the meaning behind her words. “Thanks! I guess all those years of camping have paid off.”

Her shoulders slumped ever so slightly, but she refused to give up. Throughout the morning, she found small ways to stay near you, brushing her fingers against yours when you handed her something, complimenting you with what she thought was a sultry tone, and even laughing at your jokes—some of which, she had to admit, were terrible.

Still, you seemed completely unaware.

By midday, Shadowheart was frustrated beyond measure. She found Karlach near the edge of camp, inspecting her weapons, and stormed over.

“Karlach,” she said, her tone clipped but tinged with exasperation.

Karlach looked up, her fiery heart pulsing warmly. “What’s up, Shads?”

"Please don't call me that," Shadowheart crossed her arms, her frustration bubbling over. “I don’t know what to do. I’ve been dropping hints—no, practically throwing myself at them, and they just… don’t notice!”

Karlach blinked, then grinned, clearly enjoying the situation more than she should. “Wait, you’re talking about—?”

“Yes,” Shadowheart snapped, her cheeks tinged with pink.

Karlach let out a hearty laugh, her flames flickering slightly brighter. “Oh, this is rich. You? Pining? I never thought I’d see the day.”

Shadowheart glared at her. “This is not amusing. I need advice, not mockery.”

Karlach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. “Alright, alright. Let me think. So, you’ve been… what, flirting?”

“I’ve tried everything,” Shadowheart admitted, throwing her hands in the air. “Compliments, proximity, even subtle touches. And nothing! They treat me the same as everyone else.”

Karlach hummed, tapping a clawed finger against her chin. “Maybe they’re just really dense. Or, y’know, not used to someone as… uh, mysterious as you.”

Shadowheart raised an eyebrow. “And what do you suggest I do? Write it out in blood on their tent?”

Karlach snorted. “Hey, that might actually work. But no, maybe you need to be more direct. Like, ‘Hey, I think you’re cute, let’s share a bedroll tonight.’”

Shadowheart stared at her, aghast. “I am not saying that.”

“Your loss,” Karlach said with a shrug. “But seriously, just talk to them. Be honest. I bet they’d love it.”

Shadowheart sighed, running a hand through her hair. “Honesty. Of course. The one thing I’ve been avoiding.”

“Hey, they like you for you,” Karlach said, clapping her on the shoulder. “Well, they would if they had half a brain and knew what was good for them. Go get ’em, tiger.”

Later that evening, as you sat by the campfire, Shadowheart approached you with purposeful strides. She was determined to take Karlach’s advice, even if it made her heart pound and her palms sweat.

“Can I join you?” she asked, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

“Of course,” you said, shifting to make room for her.

She hesitated for a moment, then sat beside you, her hands clasped tightly in her lap. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

You turned to her, your expression curious but kind. “What is it?”

Shadowheart opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she let out a shaky breath and looked into the fire.

“I… I care about you,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, completely misunderstanding. “I care about you too, Shadowheart. You’re a great friend.”

She groaned inwardly, pinching the bridge of her nose. “No, I mean I care about you in a… different way.”

Realization dawned on your face, your eyes widening. “Oh.”

“Oh?” she echoed, feeling both vulnerable and absurdly exposed.

“I didn’t—Shadowheart, I had no idea,” you said, your voice filled with genuine surprise and warmth.

“I noticed,” she muttered, a hint of a smile tugging at her lips despite herself.

You reached out, gently placing a hand on hers. “I’m sorry if I’ve been clueless. I guess I just… never thought someone like you would feel that way about someone like me.”

She looked at you, her expression softening. “And why wouldn’t I? You’re… remarkable.”

The sincerity in her voice made your heart skip a beat, and you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, I guess that makes two of us, then.”

Her eyes widened slightly. “You… feel the same?”

“Yeah,” you said, your cheeks flushing. “I guess I was just waiting for a sign.”

Shadowheart laughed softly, the sound lighter than you’d ever heard from her. “Apparently, I need to be less subtle.”

As the fire crackled between you, the tension that had been simmering for so long finally gave way to something warmer, something real. And for the first time in weeks, Shadowheart felt at peace.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Jaheira:

Jaheira was not a woman who pined. Or so she told herself. A High Harper, disciplined and pragmatic, she had weathered countless battles and heartbreaks. Yet, here she was, sneaking glances at you across camp, her chest tightening whenever you smiled or laughed. It was maddening. How had you managed to worm your way so deeply into her thoughts?

Despite her years of wisdom, Jaheira found herself at a loss. She didn’t know how to bridge the gap between the two of you, not without risking her pride or the delicate balance of your group.

The worst part was your complete and utter obliviousness. She’d tried subtlety—lingering conversations, offering you extra help with tactics, even sharing stories of her youth that she told no one else. You simply smiled warmly, thanked her, and went about your day as though her heart hadn’t been laid bare in every word.

One evening, after another frustrating day of yearning and getting nowhere, Astarion finally had enough.

“Jaheira, darling, may I have a word?” Astarion said, sidling up to her as she sharpened her blade near the fire.

“What do you want, Astarion?” she asked, her tone brusque.

He smirked, clearly unbothered by her irritation. “Oh, nothing much. Just to offer my… expert services in matters of the heart.”

Jaheira blinked, her sharpening stone pausing mid-stroke. “What are you talking about?”

Astarion gestured dramatically toward you, where you sat chatting animatedly with Karlach. “I’m talking about your obvious pining for our dear leader. It’s positively tragic to watch.”

Jaheira’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned back to her blade. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, please,” Astarion said, rolling his eyes. “You practically glow whenever they’re around. It’s adorable, really. But I must say, your approach could use some… finesse.”

Jaheira scowled at him. “I am not some lovesick fool, and I certainly don’t need advice from a vampire with more charm than sense.”

“Perhaps not,” Astarion said, unfazed. “But consider this: have your current tactics worked? Have they so much as noticed your affection?”

Jaheira’s silence was answer enough.

“I thought so,” Astarion said smugly. “Now, listen closely. You need to be bold. Direct. Use your natural charisma and authority to your advantage. And if all else fails, a little flirtation never hurt anyone.”

Jaheira narrowed her eyes. “I am not a charlatan like you, Astarion. I won’t lower myself to cheap tricks.”

“Who said anything about cheap tricks?” Astarion replied, feigning offense. “Think of it as… a strategic maneuver. After all, you wouldn’t hesitate to outwit an enemy in battle, would you?”

Jaheira sighed, considering his words. As much as she hated to admit it, he wasn’t entirely wrong. “Fine. I’ll listen. But if this backfires, I’ll hold you personally responsible.”

“Splendid,” Astarion said, clapping his hands together. “Now, let’s start with a little more confidence in your approach…”

The next morning, you noticed something strange about Jaheira. She was… different.

She approached you with a faint smile that seemed just a touch too practiced, her movements deliberate and graceful in a way that reminded you of someone else.

“Good morning,” she said, her voice smooth and measured. “Did you sleep well?”

You blinked, caught off guard. “Uh, yeah. I did. And you?”

“Perfectly,” she replied, her eyes lingering on you in a way that felt… odd. “Though I couldn’t help but think of our conversation from yesterday. You truly have a fascinating mind.”

You tilted your head, trying to piece together what was happening. Something about her tone, her body language—it was familiar. And then it hit you.

“Wait a minute,” you said, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you acting like Astarion?”

Jaheira froze, her carefully crafted façade slipping for just a moment. “I… what?”

“You’re doing the thing he does,” you said, mimicking a dramatic hand gesture. “The suave, overly charming thing. It’s not like you.”

Jaheira���s cheeks flushed, and she quickly turned away, muttering something under her breath.

From across camp, Astarion burst into laughter, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. “Oh, this is too good!”

Jaheira shot him a withering glare before turning back to you, her expression softening. “Perhaps I’ve been… trying too hard. Forgive me if I seemed unlike myself.”

You smiled, your warmth cutting through her frustration. “You don’t need to try so hard, Jaheira. I like you just as you are.”

Her breath caught, and for a moment, she didn’t know what to say. Then, with a small, genuine smile, she nodded. “Thank you. That means… more than you know.”

As she walked away, Astarion approached, still grinning. “Well, that could have gone better, but at least they noticed you.”

Jaheira shook her head, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Never again, Astarion. Never again.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Gale:

The late afternoon sun hung low, painting the riverside in warm golds and soft shadows. Gale, waist-deep in the cool water, had his arms crossed in front of him as if the sheer act of holding himself together could quell the maelstrom of feelings raging inside. His crush on you was a storm that refused to abate, leaving him with sleepless nights and days filled with longing glances.

From the riverbank, Minthara watched him with a look of abject irritation. Minthara had ordered him to take a dip in the cold water after he had decided to unleash his love-filled ranting unto her ears as they collected water. She assured him she would be fine to take the water back by herself, and when he thought she had left he keenly stripped and waded into the water. But Minthara had not left, no, Gale's lovesick demeanor had created a vendetta against her and she decided to take action.

"Pathetic," she muttered under her breath. She didn’t think it was possible for wizards to get worse, but Gale was proving her wrong. With a smirk, she moved silently to where Gale had left his clothes folded neatly on a nearby rock. With the swift efficiency of a seasoned tactician, she gathered them up and strode back toward camp.

You were enjoying a moment of quiet when Minthara approached, holding a bundle of robes in her arms.

"The wizard is by the river," she said bluntly. "It seems he’s in need of assistance."

You frowned, glancing at the clothing. "Assistance? With what?"

Minthara’s lips quirked into a thin smile. "He appears… indisposed. Perhaps you should go and see for yourself."

Before you could ask more, she tossed the robes into the fire and strode away, leaving you thoroughly puzzled but intrigued. You could have sworn those were Gale's. With haste, you made your way towards the river and when you arrived at the riverbank, you called out, "Gale? Everything alright?"

Gale startled, his head whipping around to face you, his hair slicked back and glistening in the sunlight. Clearly he had been searching for his robes. "Ah, no! I mean, yes—yes, everything’s fine!"

You raised a brow, stepping closer to the water’s edge. "Are you sure? Minthara said you needed help."

At the mention of her name, Gale groaned. "Of course, she did. And I suppose she also absconded with my robes?" He shot a wary glance toward the shore, clearly trying to maintain some distance.

"Unfortunately so. What’s going on?" you asked, scanning the area. Then you noticed the way his face burned red, his expression a mix of embarrassment and frustration. "Why are you still in the water? It’s getting late. and the river's current is about to pick up, you need to get out, now."

He hesitated, his fingers flexing nervously beneath the water’s surface. "It’s… complicated."

"Complicated how?" You looked around, spotting no immediate danger apart from the increasing current. "Do you need a hand getting out? I can lend you my cloak."

"You don’t understand!" Gale blurted, his voice cracking slightly. "This isn’t about the cold—or the current. It’s…" He trailed off, visibly warring with himself.

You tilted your head, curious and slightly amused. "Then what is it about? You’re not exactly making it easy to help you."

Gale sighed deeply, sinking a little lower into the water until only his nose and eyes peeked out. Then, in a low, hurried tone, he confessed, "I’m afraid my feelings for you have… manifested in a rather inconvenient manner."

Your brow furrowed. "Feelings for me?"

"Yes!" Gale said, his voice growing more desperate. "Feelings. Strong feelings—romantic, longing, entirely improper feelings for someone as… exceptional as you."

You blinked, the weight of his words settling over you like the warmth of the setting sun. "You—wait. You like me?"

"Yes," he muttered, his face practically steaming despite the cool water. "Which is precisely why I can’t leave this river at the moment."

The realization dawned slowly, but when it clicked, a grin spread across your face. "Oh," you said, fighting back laughter. "Oh."

"Yes," Gale grumbled, his mortification complete. "You see now why this is problematic."

You couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped. "So, let me get this straight. You’re saying your feelings are… visible at the moment?"

Gale pinched the bridge of his nose. "If you insist on phrasing it that way, then yes."

You laughed harder, the sound bright and unrestrained. "Gale, that’s not the end of the world."

"Easy for you to say," he muttered. "You’re not the one at risk of a compromising exit."

Still laughing, you crouched by the water’s edge, your cloak in hand. "Come on. I promise I’ll look the other way. Just wrap this around your waist - tightly, and let’s get you back to camp."

Gale hesitated, clearly torn between his pride and the practicality of your offer. The river was rising, and the current becoming less forgiving. He didn't know what would be worse, coming out in this state or having to have you rescue him whilst he was in this condition. Finally, he sighed. "You’re infuriatingly kind, you know that?"

"Only to people I like," you teased, winking at him.

That earned you a small, genuine smile, despite his predicament. Slowly, cautiously, he edged closer to the shore, his blush never fading. You diligently kept your eyes closed, but there was that little devil inside you willing you to take a peak. He wrapped the cloak around his waist, only for you to hear a small, defeated sigh.

"You cannot laugh at me, but please may I request that I carry your shoes back to camp?" He asked, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"Wow you must really like me-"

"-The shoes please!"

Still giggling to yourself, you took off your shoes and passed them to him, allowing him to use them as a shield to his nether region.

You were finally able to look at him, his cheeks flushed beet red as he murmured, "I am going to kill Minthara, or at least try to."

"You know, Gale, I think Minthara might have done us both a favor."

Gale groaned, burying his face in his hands. "Never speak of this again. And especially do not encourage her behaviour."

"No promises," you said with a grin, walking beside him as you both headed back to camp. "Perhaps, I might want to get caught short with you."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Astarion:

Astarion was not accustomed to being ignored, least of all by someone who had managed to captivate him so thoroughly. Yet here you were, brushing off his every flirtation, every lingering glance, every word dripping with a charm that could make others fall at his feet.

You were different, infuriatingly so. Every smirk, every sly compliment, every touch of his hand to your arm was met with a polite laugh, a nod, or—worse—a casual thanks before you moved on as though he hadn’t just thrown his best seductive lines at you.

For someone like Astarion, whose every move had been meticulously calculated for centuries, this was unbearable. He was practically seething with frustration as he watched you across the camp, laughing at something Karlach had said. He sighed dramatically, slumping onto a nearby log, the perfect picture of a man whose heart was in shambles.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why you might be cautious around him. He wasn’t blind to his own past or the scars it had left on his soul. But this? This obliviousness wasn’t caution—it was sheer ignorance of his very obvious yearning.

And so, out of options and desperately needing help, he did something he never thought he would: he sought out Gale.

Gale was sitting by the fire, absently flipping through his spellbook, when Astarion approached him. The vampire’s usual smirk was replaced with something that looked suspiciously like a grimace.

“Gale,” Astarion began, his voice unusually subdued.

Gale looked up, raising an eyebrow. “Astarion? To what do I owe this… peculiar honor?”

Astarion waved a hand dismissively. “Yes, yes, spare me the preamble. I need your help.”

“My help?” Gale blinked. “What kind of apocalyptic disaster requires my assistance? Surely not something involving a certain someone we both know?”

Astarion’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Yes. Them.”

Gale set his book down, his interest piqued. “Ah, I see. You’re pining.”

“I am not pining,” Astarion snapped, though the blush creeping up his pale cheeks betrayed him. “I am… strategically pursuing. Subtly, I might add.”

Gale snorted. “If by subtle, you mean utterly transparent, then yes. You’ve been as subtle as a fireball in a wheat field.”

Astarion scowled. “They don’t see it that way. They think I’m just… charming. Which, of course, I am, but there’s more to it than that.”

“And you want my advice?” Gale leaned back, crossing his arms. “Me, the man you’ve spent weeks mocking for my ‘tragic romanticism’?”

“Yes, yes, revel in the irony if you must,” Astarion said impatiently. “But you’re annoyingly good- most of the time, at all this grand gesture nonsense, and clearly, I need a new approach.”

Gale chuckled, a little too pleased with himself. “All right. Let’s see. The key here is sincerity. You can’t just charm your way through this one. You have to show them how you feel.”

Astarion frowned. “And how exactly do I do that?”

“Think of something meaningful to them,” Gale suggested. “An act that demonstrates you understand them, that you care about them deeply. And,” he added with a smirk, “maybe tone down the smirking and innuendo for five minutes.”

The next day, Astarion put Gale’s advice into action—or at least, his version of it. You were sitting by the riverbank, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when Astarion approached you, holding something behind his back.

“Ah, there you are,” he said, his tone softer than usual.

You smiled up at him. “What’s up, Astarion?”

“I, uh… I noticed something the other day.” He cleared his throat, looking uncharacteristically awkward. “You mentioned how much you missed those silly little biscuits from Baldur’s Gate, the ones with the sugar glaze.”

You blinked, caught off guard. “I did?”

“Yes, you did,” he said quickly. “And, well… here.” He produced a carefully wrapped package and handed it to you. Inside were a handful of the biscuits, slightly crumbled but still intact.

Your eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“Don’t ask questions,” he said, his smirk creeping back despite his best efforts. “Just enjoy them.”

You looked up at him, touched by the gesture but still utterly oblivious to the deeper meaning. “Thanks, Astarion. That’s really sweet of you.”

He stared at you for a moment, waiting for something—anything—to click. When it didn’t, he sighed dramatically and flopped onto the grass beside you.

“Are you truly this dense, my beautiful fool?” he muttered under his breath.

“Hm?”

“Nothing,” he said, flashing you a too-bright smile. “Enjoy your biscuits, darling.”

From a distance, Gale watched the exchange with a shake of his head, muttering, “Some people are beyond help.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Wyll:

Wyll was not used to being ignored, especially when it came to matters of the heart. He prided himself on his charm, his courtly manners, and his ability to woo with a single smile. Yet, when it came to you, all his gentlemanly gestures seemed to bounce right off you like a deflected blade.

He would offer you his hand to help you over rough terrain, only to receive a simple "Thanks, Wyll!" and a cheerful pat on his shoulder. He’d bring you breakfast, perfectly arranged, and you’d compliment him on his “team spirit.” He’d even tried a few subtler lines, but you always brushed them off as his natural charisma, as if his feelings weren’t entirely focused on you.

So, after one particularly frustrating evening where you didn’t even notice how his gaze lingered on you by the firelight, Wyll decided he needed help.

And who better to consult than the camp’s most direct and fearless member, Lae’zel?

Lae’zel was sharpening her sword when Wyll approached, his usual confident demeanor slightly crumpled under the weight of his unspoken affection. She glanced up, her sharp eyes narrowing.

“Wyll,” she said bluntly, “you look as though you’ve swallowed a blade sideways. Spit it out.”

He cleared his throat, glancing around to make sure no one else was in earshot. “It’s about… them,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper.

Lae’zel’s expression didn’t change. “Ah, the object of your obsession.”

Wyll winced. “It’s not an obsession.”

“Call it what you will,” she said, shrugging. “You pine for them like a fledgling seeking a mate. What of it?”

“I don’t know how to… tell them,” Wyll confessed, his usual eloquence failing him. “They seem entirely immune to my advances.”

Lae’zel snorted. “Perhaps because your ‘advances’ are weak. Soft. You dote on them like a mother hen, not a warrior. If you want their attention, you must assert dominance.”

“Assert dominance?” Wyll repeated, looking increasingly alarmed.

“Yes,” Lae’zel said firmly. “Challenge them. Best them in combat. Show them your strength. Then, when they are weak and trembling, you proclaim your intent to claim them as yours.”

Wyll’s face turned scarlet. “That’s—That’s not how courtship works!”

“Of course it is,” Lae’zel said, waving a dismissive hand. “You prove your physical and sexual prowess through battle. What better way to ensure compatibility?”

Wyll sputtered, his composure unraveling. “I—I don’t think they’d appreciate being ‘claimed’ like a prize after a fight.”

“They would respect it,” Lae’zel insisted. “And likely find it arousing.”

“Lae’zel!” Wyll’s voice cracked, and he buried his face in his hands, his flames of embarrassment rivaling Karlach’s.

From across the camp, you noticed the commotion and Wyll’s obvious distress. Concerned, you got up and made your way over. “Wyll? Are you okay?”

Lae’zel’s smirk widened as Wyll’s blush deepened. He scrambled to his feet, fumbling for words. “Ah—Yes! Fine! Everything is fine!”

You raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them. “Are you sure? You look like you’ve just lost a sparring match.”

Before Lae’zel could open her mouth to make things infinitely worse, Wyll quickly grabbed your hand and pulled you aside.

“Just a minor… disagreement,” he said quickly, his voice cracking again. “Nothing to worry about.”

You gave him a curious look, but his obvious flustered state distracted you from pressing further. “Okay, if you’re sure.”

Lae’zel watched you go with Wyll, shaking her head and muttering, “Coward. They would have respected a proper duel.”

Meanwhile, Wyll was doing his best to calm his racing heart and come up with a less mortifying way to tell you how he felt—ideally without Lae’zel’s "help."

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Halsin:

Halsin prided himself on his control, his connection to nature, and his ability to remain grounded in even the most chaotic of circumstances. But when it came to you, all of that composure seemed to dissolve like frost under the morning sun.

You were utterly magnetic to him—your presence so compelling that his heart would stutter every time you entered the same space. He found himself enchanted by the curve of your smile, the warmth in your voice, the kindness in your touch. And it was unbearable. Literally, because every time you touched his arm or leaned in to speak to him, his instincts would flare wildly out of control.

The first time it happened, you’d brushed some stray leaves off his shoulder after he returned from foraging. “Halsin, you’ve brought back half the forest,” you joked, smiling up at him.

Halsin opened his mouth to respond, but before he could, a rush of heat overtook him, and— bam—he was suddenly a large, startled elk.

You jumped back with a yelp of surprise, staring wide-eyed at the animal in front of you. “Halsin?”

The elk gave a deep snort, its head hanging low as if mortified.

It happened again not long after, when you touched his hand while passing him a flask of water. This time, he transformed into a wolf, looking up at you with ears pinned back, practically radiating sheepishness.

“Halsin,” you laughed, kneeling down to scratch behind his ears, “you’ve got to warn me if you’re going to do that.”

By the time the third accidental wildshape happened—this time as a squirrel after you had simply smiled at him—Jaheira had had enough.

The older druid cornered Halsin after dinner, arms crossed and an unimpressed look on her face. “You’re a leader, Halsin. A figure of strength and wisdom. Yet here you are, hiding in fur and feathers because of a crush.”

“It’s not just a crush,” Halsin muttered, his deep voice unusually uncertain. “It’s… consuming. Every time I try to speak to them, I lose myself. They are radiant, Jaheira. I can hardly stand near them without—”

“—turning into livestock, yes,” Jaheira interrupted, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You’re a druid, not a child. Get a grip, Halsin. They won’t notice your feelings unless you make them clear. And for the love of Silvanus, do it without shifting.”

Halsin sighed heavily but nodded. “You’re right. I must face this head-on.”

Jaheira clapped him on the shoulder. “Good. Now go before you sprout wings or something ridiculous.”

Halsin found you sitting by the campfire, a jar of honey and a piece of bread in your hands. The firelight danced across your features, and Halsin felt his heart thrum painfully in his chest.

“Is everything okay, Halsin?” you asked, looking up at him with a concerned smile.

Halsin cleared his throat, forcing himself to remain steady. “Yes, I… there is something I need to tell you.”

You tilted your head, some honey glistening on your lips. “Of course. What is it?”

And that was it. The sight of your lips, the gentle curve of your expression—it was too much. Despite every ounce of willpower he had summoned, Halsin’s body betrayed him. With a flash of light and a muffled groan, he was suddenly a massive brown bear, sitting heavily on the ground.

You blinked, staring at him for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Halsin! You did it again!”

From across the camp, Jaheira let out a long, exasperated groan, throwing her hands up. “I give up!” she muttered, stalking off.

The bear lowered its massive head, letting out a low huff of frustration. You reached over and gently placed a hand on his fur.

“It’s okay, big guy,” you said, grinning. “You’ll figure it out eventually.”

If Halsin could have blushed, he would have. Instead, he let you pet him, resigning himself to the fact that his feelings were much harder to control than he’d ever anticipated.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

This was so so so so so much fun to write !! Especially Gale's icl hehehe. Hope you guys enjoyed it ! - Seluney xox

If you want to support me in other ways | Help keep this moonmaiden caffeinated x

[seungkw1]

you're so sweet, but... — hvc

♡ pairing: bf!vernon x afab!reader ♡ theme: smut ♡ wc: 3.1k ♡ warnings: brat!reader, brattamer!vernon, sub!reader, softdom!vernon, praise kink, degradation kink, slight exhibitionism, unprotected piv sex (do not do this), fingering (f. receiving), gagging (f. receiving), lots of spit going on, body worship, spanking, manhandling, hair pulling, head pushing, nipple play, doggy, riding, dacryphilia, oral (m. receiving/f. receiving implied), cum swallowing, slight possessiveness, pet names (princess, babygirl, good girl, slut), minor fluff at the end ♡ a/n: ummmm yeah so here’s the vernon fic i’ve talked about writing for a while i kinda went feral hope u like it !! :)

Your sweet, wonderful boyfriend always treats you so well - but you secretly wish he would be a little bit meaner sometimes. One day while he’s working from home, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

“How long is the call?”

“Shouldn't be more than an hour.”

You pout at your boyfriend, tugging at his arm, trying to drag him away from work. 

“That's too longgggg,” you whine. 

“Sorry babe, duty calls.”

You cross your arms, rolling your eyes at him. “Vernon, you can't just say duty calls about a Zoom meeting.”

Vernon turns around, taking your hands in his as he steps back toward you. He leans in and gives you a big kiss on the lips. 

“Love you.”

He spins you around and sends you off with a light tap on the butt. 

“It's a good thing you're cute,” you say, looking back at him with a grin. He gives you a playful smile before shutting the door, leaving it slightly ajar. 

You last about 15 minutes. Ever since you moved in with your boyfriend, you hadn't spent much time apart from him at all - so when you went on a trip with friends, you didn't realize how much you'd miss him. You were only gone a week, but it was enough to drive you nuts - and make you stupidly horny. 

You lay upon your bed, caressing yourself lightly through your clothes, imagining Vernon was here on top of you, stripping your clothes off so he can worship your crevice of your body. He always is so good to you, speaking soft, sweet praises as he fucks you: 

“You’re taking me so well, baby.”

“You look so pretty riding me like this.”

“That’s it, cum for me darling.”

It’s incredibly hot, and you're so grateful to have such a loving partner who prioritizes your pleasure above everything. 

However…

You’ve never admitted this to him, but sometimes you wish he would be a bit meaner. 

Vernon is well aware that you have a praise kink - it pairs perfectly with his love of complimenting you. But recently you’ve started dreaming of your sweet, wonderful boyfriend calling you a dirty little slut as he throws you around, pins you down to the bed, fills your pussy up with cum and then fucks it into you all over again. And it really turns you on. 

You’ve been hesitant to share this with him - only because you don't know if it’s something he'd be into. In the year or so you've been together, he has never spoken down to you in any way - the man simply doesn't have a mean bone in his body. You worry it would upset him if you expressed this desire to him and he couldn't deliver. 

You ponder this as you lay there, fantasizing about being dominated, degraded, fucked so hard you forget your own name. You don’t even have to touch yourself to know how wet this is making you.

A very debaucherous idea suddenly comes to you. 

You think about it for a minute. You know you probably shouldn't do it, but you're feeling so depraved right now that you don't even care. 

You hop to your feet, making your way back to Vernon’s office. The door is still unlatched. Praying the hinges aren't creaky, you slowly push it open about halfway, enough to bring your whole body into view. You see him sitting at the desk’s chair, looking a bit bored but focused, his posture pin-straight and perfect as always. His eyes flicker over to you as he notices you standing there. He looks at you with concern - you never interrupt him when he’s at work unless it's something urgent. He tilts his head slightly, silently asking you if something is wrong. 

You bite your lip to hide the smirk creeping upon your face. You slowly lift your shirt, sliding it above your bra to reveal your tits. His eyes widen. He’s still on camera, so he doesn't let himself react more than than, but you can tell he’s getting flustered already. 

You pull your shirt over your head, dropping it to the floor. Your hands make their way to your jeans, unfastening them, slowly dragging the zipper down. Vernon stares at you, shaking his head as subtly as possible. 

Don't do it, his face reads. 

Doing it anyway, you start pulling your jeans off, caressing your hips seductively as you slide the pants down your legs. As you kick the jeans off, you pull your underwear up tight against your cunt, showing off the existing wet spot - making it even wetter as the thin fabric sticks to your soaked folds. Your pussy is all but on full display. 

Vernon’s ears burn bright red. He tries to ignore you, turning back to his computer. 

“Sorry, can you repeat the question?” he asks somebody on the call, his voice straining to remain unwavering. You hear a muffled voice in his headphones, repeating what they just asked. Vernon gives an abrupt nod and answers the question. 

You wait until he finishes his response. Once he’s done speaking, you see his attention start to drift back over to you. You reach behind you, releasing the hook of your bra. Your breasts fall softly out of the garment as you slide it off; you toss the bra toward Vernon, not quite far enough for it to be spotted in the webcam, but daringly close. 

The flush begins to spread to his neck. He maintains a cool facade, but you can tell he is stewing inside. You smirk, pleased with yourself for managing to make him so distraught so easily. 

He answers another question, shifting in his seat slightly to accommodate the growing erection in his pants.  

You take a step into the room. He shoots you a panicked look. You take another step, reaching over to the desk. You lean over and- 

Pewwww. 

With a sad sounding noise, the entire computer shuts off. You release the power button. Vernon stares at the black screen for a moment, in shock. He turns back to you, shock washing over his face. 

“What the fuck are you doi-”

You disappear from the doorway in an instant. Vernon runs after you. 

“Hey!!”

He chases you into the bedroom. 

“What the hell was that for??”

“I dunno,” you reply, grinning at him coyly. “Just felt like it.”

“You can't just interrupt when I’m in a meeting like that! What if it was important??”

“Was it?”

“No, but-”

“See? You’ll be fine. Just say your internet went out.”

He purses his lips shut. “That’s not the point. You could have gotten me in huge trouble.”       

“Oh no,” you say cheekily, poking him in the chest. “I guess you'll just have to put me in my place then.”

Vernon looks at you, his expression shifting from anger to disbelief. He lets out a huff. 

“So that’s what you want,” he responds incredulously. “You’re acting like a brat on purpose.”

You step forward, grinning as you get in his face. 

“Now you get it.”

“Jesus y/n, that was too risky!” he scolds.  

You clasp your hand tightly on the bulge in his pants. He lets out a sharp groan. 

“Yeah, but you like it.”

He stares at you, trying to be upset, but his eyes start to glaze over as you squeeze his cock. 

“Now,” you continue, speaking softly. You lean in and let your lips linger in front of his. “Are you gonna fuck me or not?”

He stands there, mouth slightly agape, dumbstruck by your audacity. 

“I-”

Before he can continue, you start undoing the button on his jeans. You tug on the zipper, having to put a little extra effort in due to his hard cock straining to escape from the confines of the denim.  The zipper glides down over the bulging mass; he sighs at the relieving sensation. You pull the waistband of his boxers down just enough to free his tip - he's already leaking with precum. You collect it on your index finger and bring it up to your mouth, licking your finger clean. 

“God,” Vernon groans through gritted teeth, his cock twitching against his stomach. “You’re a fucking menace.”

He reaches for your core. He pulls your hopelessly drenched panties aside, dragging the pads of his fingers over your slit. 

“Look how fucking wet you are.”

You whimper as he slips his middle finger inside you. He slides it in and out a few times before adding his ring finger. You cry out as he curls his fingertips to hit your g-spot - he always knows how to touch you in your most sensitive spots to drive you fucking crazy. 

He starts fucking your pussy, the heel of his palm pressing deliciously against your clit with each motion of his hand. After several deep pumps he pulls his hand out - it’s already soaked. 

“Open,” he commands. 

You open your mouth and stick your tongue out. He shoves his fingers inside. You latch onto them, sucking your own juices off. He pushes further into your mouth, making you gag. Your eyes start to water. 

By the time he pulls out, his hand is coated with your spit. A big string of saliva sticks to his fingers; it breaks, the remainder dribbling down your chin. Vernon leans in, slipping his tongue into your mouth, dragging it around the inside of your teeth.  He reaches for your cunt again, gently circling your clit. His spit-covered fingertips glide easily over the bud, the stimulation making your pussy clench around nothing. 

“Oh my god,” you moan into his mouth. You start grinding your cunt against his fingers. “Just fuck me already.”

You whine as he pulls his hand away. Grabbing you by the hips, he pushes you over to the bed. He practically throws you onto the mattress. He pulls his jeans and boxers down in one go, yanking them off hurriedly. His shirt quickly joins the discarded clothes on the floor. Standing fully nude before you now, he slowly begins stroking his cock. With one finger he reaches beneath the crotch of your underwear, pulling the elastic back. The cool air of the room stings pleasantly against your wet cunt. He releases; you jump slightly as it snaps back against your pussy. 

“Get rid of these.”

You don't move. “Do it for me.”

He stares down at you, his eyes filled with lust.

“Fine,” he growls.

He reaches for you, running his hands up the sides of your thighs. You lift yourself up a bit so he can strip your panties off - but instead he grasps you by the hips, flipping you over onto your stomach.

He nearly rips your underwear off, not bothering to remove them, but sliding them down just enough to expose your cunt. He smacks you on the ass, hard. You let out a small cry at the stinging sensation.

“You like that?” he asks as he traces his fingernails over the tender area.

“Mhmm,” you mumble into the sheets.

He grabs you by the hair, yanking your head up.

“Speak up, princess.”

“Yes,” you whine. 

He spanks you again, even harder this time. Your skin begins to burn where his hand struck you.

“More,” you plead.

He leans over, gripping your hair in his fist still as he speaks softly into your ear.

“Oh I don’t think so,” he mutters. The hair on the back of your neck stands up. “You’ve been very bad today, I’m not just going to give you what you want so easily.”

He grabs his cock in his other hand, leading the tip to your heat. He strokes it over your entrance a few times, the combination of your juices and spit coating his cockhead. He pushes into you slightly to tease you, but you’re so wet that it slips right in. You cry out at the sensation; he lets out a long moan as he slowly pushes further, making you take his full length. He rests for a moment with your pussy wrapped around his whole cock, breathing deeply.

“God your pussy is so perfect,” he whispers into your ear. “And it’s all mine, isn’t it babygirl?”

“Y-yeah,” you whimper. “All yours.”

“Good,” he grumbles. “A good little slut all for me.”

He begins to fuck you, slowly at first, sliding in and out of you, making you feel every inch of him. Quickly though his pace increases, thrusting into you with powerful strokes, his hand unreleasing in your hair. Your legs start to quiver as his cock hits you in the perfect spot each time. You grasp onto the sheets, desperately clinging to them as your boyfriend fucks you like never before, your cries muffled into the mattress. Vernon pulls you up again, your moans filling the air as he wraps his other arm around your torso, squeezing your breasts as he holds you tight against him. He plays with your nipples, pinching them and rolling the bud around between his thumb and index finger. You already start to feel your orgasm approaching when he releases your tits, sliding his hand down your stomach and reaching for your clit.

“Fuck I’m so close,” you cry out between an unholy symphony of moans. Vernon groans as he fucks you even harder, his cock pounding into you as his fingertips flutter over your sensitive bud. Your screams escalate, so near to your climax - but before you can cum he pulls his cock out of you; he rests it against your ass, dragging your wetness all over your skin. He flips you around again to face him, throwing you onto the pillows. 

“Not yet,” he tells you as he climbs over you. He lays beside you, grabbing your arms and hoisting you on top of him. “Wanna see your pretty little face when you cum for me.”

You straddle him, sitting with your pussy resting upon his shaft. He laces his fingers through yours, holding your hands as he pulls you toward him. You begin to rock your hips back and forth, sliding your cunt up and down his length. Your clit pulsates as his hardness presses against it with each movement.

“Want you to cum like this,” he mutters, his eyelids halfway closed as your pussy strokes his cock. He grips onto your hands tightly, supporting you as you pleasure yourself upon him. You grind against him, your cunt throbbing, begging for release. A burning sensation builds in your gut; your mind starts to go blank - the only thing you can think about is Vernon, laying under you as he watches you unravel atop him, losing all composure on his cock.

“I’m gonna cum,” you wail. You relinquish all control, letting your orgasm take over. Your body trembles as every nerve in your body is set ablaze like fireworks. You scream out your boyfriend’s name as you release over him, cumming long and hard, your climax seemingly endless.

You start to come down, breathing heavily as you recover from your high. You collapse onto Vernon, laying your body on his chest as you bury your face in his neck. He lets go, sliding his hands around you, squeezing you against him in a tight embrace. He lets you catch your breath, but only for a moment. 

“Look at me,” he demands as he lifts you up to face him. Your face is undoubtedly a mess of tears, but Vernon thinks you’ve never looked more beautiful.

“Such a good girl for me,” he says as he plays with your breasts. His cock twitches against his stomach, painfully hard, straining for release. “Should I give you my cum now, love?”

“Please,” you beg.

“Where do you want it, baby?”

You open your mouth wide and exaggeratedly stick your tongue out. 

“Fuck,” Vernon groans. “Whatever you want, babygirl.”

Quickly you climb off of him, kneeling between his legs as he sits upon the edge of the bed. You take his cock in your hand, giving him a few pumps as you take his balls in your mouth. You lick up his length, letting his tip rest against your swollen, wet lips as you look up at him with big doe eyes. He brushes your hair out of your face.

“So beautiful.”

You stick your tongue out, giving his cock kitten licks as you gaze into his eyes. You then take his length in your mouth, swallowing him to his base.

“Oh fuckkkk,” he moans.

You look up at him as you suck his cock, gagging on his length and creating a mess of spit all over him. He stares at you as if he thinks you’re the most desirable thing in the universe - and to him, you are.

“Look at you, princess,” he coos. “So pretty with my cock in your pretty little mouth.”

You speed your pace, your head bobbing up and down faster and faster. Nothing matters more to you in the world right now than bringing him pleasure. His eyelids flutter as his eyes begin to roll back, soft moans emanating from his lips as he pushes your head down, making you take all of him with each stroke of your mouth. Grotesque sounds try to escape you, to no avail; the vibrations of your hums send Vernon over the edge. He lets out a string of “ah, ah, ah”s, getting louder as he gets closer and closer, until…

“Oh my goddddd.”

His hips jerk upwards as he releases, painting the back of your throat with hot white ropes of cum. His cock throbs in your mouth as you swallow his load. The pressure upon your head lessens as the tension in his body begins to fade. Giving you a final few spurts of cum, he relaxes; he pulls you back up onto the bed, taking you in his arms as he rolls over onto his side. He holds you against him, you as his little spoon, as he peppers your cheek with kisses. He whispers into your ear, his voice low and raspy.

“I fucking love you.”

You smile. “I fucking love you too, baby.”

He takes your chin in his hand as he turns your face toward his. He gives you a long kiss. As his lips part from yours, he squishes your face playfully.

“But don’t do that again,” he says with a grin.

You giggle. “I won’t - but next time I come home from a trip you have to fuck me right away.”

Vernon presses his nose against yours, his face dead serious. “Yes ma’am.”

You kiss him again. “Don’t you have to get back to work?”

He shakes his head. “Can’t work, the internet is out.”

“Oh yeah,” you grin back at him. “Bummer.”

“Besides,” he continues, shifting you onto your back and making his way down the bed, positioning himself between your legs. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you up to his face.

“I’m starving.”

[hiitsm]

The Weight of a Promise: The Second Vow

The Weight of a Promise is for 18+ only.

Angst, Hurt

-

You sit at the table, the takeout containers now a stark contrast to the atmosphere that was supposed to be filled with joy and togetherness. Your engagement ring glints painfully in the dim light, its presence a constant reminder of what was just torn away from you.

The numbness from Jenni’s sudden departure begins to give way to a tempest of emotions. Sadness, anger, confusion, and a deep-seated sense of betrayal. The more you think about her words, the more you question whether her decision was truly about needing to clear her head or if there was something deeper that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t, share with you.

Hours pass in a blur, the silence punctuated only by the occasional sob that escapes your lips. You keep glancing at the engagement ring on your finger, its brilliance now a cruel mockery of the promise it once symbolized. How could something that represented such deep love and commitment now feel so heavy and painful?

In the midst of your turmoil, your phone buzzes, startling you from your reverie. It’s a message from Alexia, a name that brings a flicker of comfort amidst the storm. She had been a close friend to both you and Jenni, a confidante who had witnessed the highs and lows of your relationship.

Alexia: 'Hey, I just saw Jenni’s post. Are you okay? I’m here if you need me.'

You hesitate for a moment, the sting of Jenni's departure still fresh. But Alexia’s genuine concern and your own need for support outweigh your reservations. With a heavy sigh, you reply.

You: 'Can you come over? I really need someone to talk to.'

Alexia’s response is swift.

Alexia: 'I’m on my way. Hang in there.'

When the doorbell rings, the sound is both a relief and a reminder of the painful reality you're facing. You slowly rise from the couch, your movements heavy with the weight of your emotions, and open the door to find Alexia standing there, her face etched with concern.

“Hey,” she says softly, stepping inside and pulling you into a comforting hug. Her embrace is warm, a stark contrast to the coldness that has enveloped you since Jenni left.

“Hey,” you reply, your voice breaking slightly as you step back to let her in. You lead her to the living room, where she takes in the scene. The untouched takeout, the candle flickering weakly, and your tear-streaked face.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Alexia asks gently, her eyes filled with a deep empathy.

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat. “I don’t even know where to start,” you admit, sinking back onto the couch. “Jenni just… left. She’s going to Mexico, and she’s going alone. I don’t understand why she couldn’t wait, why she couldn’t let me be part of this journey with her.”

Alexia sits beside you, her hand reaching out to comfort you. “It’s okay to feel like this. It’s a lot to process,” she says, her voice steady and soothing.

“But why now?” you continue, your voice trembling. “Why did she make this decision without talking to me first? We were supposed to be building a life together. How could she just leave like this?”

Alexia takes a deep breath, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Sometimes, people make decisions based on what they feel they need at the moment. It doesn’t necessarily mean it’s right or easy, but it’s what they think is best for them.”

You look at her, the pain in your eyes evident. “I thought Jenni was different. I thought we were stronger than this.”

A sob breaks free from your chest, and you clutch at the engagement ring, as if trying to hold onto the last shreds of your shattered dreams. “She vowed to always face challenges together,” you choke out between sobs. “During her proposal, she promised we’d be a team, that we’d navigate everything side by side. And now… now she’s breaking that vow. She’s leaving, and it feels like she’s breaking me too.”

The tears flow freely, and you lean into Alexia’s comforting presence, your body shaking with the intensity of your emotions. “I thought we were building a future together. I thought we’d face everything as a team, but now it feels like she’s choosing to walk away from us, from everything we dreamed of.”

Alexia holds you tightly, her own eyes brimming with tears as she listens to your heartache. “I’m so sorry,” she whispers, her voice choked with emotion. “I know it’s incredibly painful. And it’s okay to grieve the loss of what you thought your future would be.”

You bury your face in Alexia’s shoulder, the warmth of her embrace providing a small comfort amidst the storm of your emotions. “I don’t know how to move on from this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “It feels like a piece of me is missing, and I don’t know how to find it again.”

Alexia’s hand strokes your hair soothingly. “You don’t have to have all the answers right now. Just take things one day at a time. Allow yourself to feel, to mourn, and to heal. And remember, you’re not alone in this. I’m here for you, and I’ll support you through every step.”

As you cry into her shoulder, Alexia’s words offer a glimmer of solace in the midst of your anguish. The pain is still raw, the hurt still fresh, but her presence provides a small measure of comfort as you navigate the difficult path ahead. For now, you cling to her support, finding strength in the fact that you don’t have to face this heartache alone.

-

Slow burn.

[th0ti-th0ts]

just desserts

hobie brown x reader, miguel o’hara x reader (implied)

summary: leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. if only it wasn't this fun for hobie to mess with him.

or: hobie exploits miguel’s one weakness for some shits and giggles (but also to stick it to The Man).

cw: fluff but hobie makes some innuendos. jealous!miguel, miguel who can't admit his feelings, hobie who knows this and knows he has more game and takes full advantage of this

You’re talking to Hobie when his attention is captured by something behind you. His gaze shifts as he raises a brow challengingly, mouth pulled into a cocky slant. It’s quick, quick enough that most people wouldn’t catch it, but you’re not most people. Not with your reflexes.

“—And I was—Hobie? Something wrong?”

You’ve got his attention again. “Yeah, luv? Sorry ‘bout that, got somethin’ in my eye.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder, and gives you a lazy grin. "Distracted me fro' your beauty for a minute."

You roll your eyes as you continue to tell your tale, Hobie listening to you with the kind of careless intensity that only he could pull off. While his flirtatious comments could be construed as something more, he says them with such a dry wit that it's hardly anything more than friendly. As the the two of you meander down the line of the cafeteria, grabbing whatever food spikes your interest, his arm remains a steady presence around you. Again, you don’t think much of it—Hobie's a touchy guy with his closest friends.

“Ya’ ever wonder 'ow these futuristic blokes come up wit’ some o’ these pop flavors?" he asks you, holding a can of soda in his hand as he languid reads off the label. "‘Sparkling orange cream cider with a 'int of lime...'" He pulls a face. "Sounds mad.”

You laugh. “It’s actually kinda good. Peter recommended it to me last time.”

He looks at you, surprised. “Huh." And then, with a hint of suspicion, he asks, "...Which Peter? Ya' can't trust all ov' their taste buds...”

With his arm around you, Hobie steers the two of you around the cafeteria, and you end up accidentally bumping into the person next to you in line. The two of you continue to chat--that is, until you hear someone clear their throat meaningfully. You glance behind you, unaware of the challenging glean in Hobie's cool gaze.

"Oh, hi, Miguel! I don't think I've ever seen you out here before."

He raises a brow. In his hand is a box of the empanadas he loves so much.

"I do... eat, you know."

Miguel's usual dry and blunt manner of speaking has hardly deterred you before.

"Yeah, but I don't think you really leave that dinky, dark room of yours," you say thoughtfully, to which Hobie snorts next to you. His body shakes with the effort to contain his amusement. Your eyes widen. "I—I didn't mean it like that!"

"I know what you mean," Miguel cuts you off. He jabs the empanada before him with tongs, puncturing its shell. His irritation is palpable. Maybe he's having a bad day? "I..." He sighs heavily, surveying the two of you, his gaze lingering on your shoulder. "Just felt like a change of scenery."

"Or at least I did," he mutters, but you don't quite catch it.

"Sorry?"

"Nothing."

"'Ey, 'ey. Look wha' we got 'ere." Hobie, the ever keen observer, steers you around Miguel, to direct your attention to today's dessert on the menu. Your eyes widen at the various flavors of cupcakes before you. You fucking love cupcakes.

"Lemme guess," Hobie says. "You're a chocolate kinda gal?" He snags a cupcake for each of you. Just as he hands it to you though, you're distracted by the sound of tongs clattering.

You glance to your right, only for Hobie to end up smearing some of the cupcake's icing across your cheek. You blink in surprise.

"Hey!"

"Oops." An amused smirk stretches Hobie's face. “Made a mess o' yourself, looks like it."

"You're the one who did it!"

Hobie puts his palms up, stating solemnly, "All's wort' it in pursuit of something sweet."

You glower at him, rubbing your cheek. "Did I get it?"

He shakes his head. "Nope." You rub again. "A lit'le to the left. Nope… Is a bit like finding a needle in a 'aystack for you, innit? Lemme help.”

Hobie’s thumb comes up to your cheek, swiping the suspect away. You scrunch your nose up, to which he makes a satisfied noise in his throat.

"Almos' regret doin' that. Ya' pull off the 'cream on ya' face' look."

You roll your eyes at the obvious innuendo, smacking his chest. “Hobie. Not in public!”

He shrugs unapologetically.

CRCKK.

The sound of cardboard crumpling meets your ears. The both of you turn around.

“Ay, chingados,” Miguel curses at his crushed box, meat and veggie filling from his empanadas splayed across the ground. He kicks the box away, before slamming his hand onto the counter. Hunched over, a hand tensely massaging his brow as he mutters, “Maldito sea. Estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa."

You raise a brow. You think you hear Hobie mutter something to the effect of, "Stickin' it to the big guy one step a' a time," and you're certainly not sure what that means. Miguel stops only when he notices you and everyone in the cafeteria watching him. He straightens up, and clears his throat before summoning his AI.

“Lyla, just have someone bring food to my room,” he grumbles.

"Roger that," she says.

And then Miguel is stalking away before either of you know it.

You watch his retreating back curiously. "I wonder what that was about..." you think aloud.

“No idea,” Hobie drawls. Of course, it's a lie, or as Hobie likes to think of it, a covert truth. He salutes in Miguel's direction.

Leave it to the big guy to be so damn obvious. If only it wasn't this fun to mess with him. And... Hobie glances down at you. If only you realized how much power you held over him.

Both of them, really.

—

translations:

estoy harto de ver esta mierda amorosa = i'm sick of seeing all this lovey-dovey shit

the other phrases are just a bunch of cursing lmao

[rachdalysworld]

Content note: This piece contains themes of emotional vulnerability, anxiety, and the creation of a safe space within a loving relationship. The narrative focuses on a tender and supportive bond between two characters, Leah and Y/N, as they navigate moments of overwhelm and the importance of feeling secure.

⬅️Last part | Next part➡️

“Part 3 — Safe heaven”

The first few times it happened, Leah had always been the one to find the space. A quiet corner at a restaurant, the privacy of the car, even the back hallway of a stadium once. Each time, Leah had dropped everything to make sure Y/N felt safe, supported, and loved.

But it had been on Leah’s mind lately: How could she make it easier for Y/N? How could she create a space where Y/N wouldn’t have to spiral into shame or anxiety? A space that felt like theirs, always available whenever Y/N needed it.

That thought brought her to the present moment.

The Idea

It was a calm Sunday afternoon. Y/N sat on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her as she scrolled through her phone. Leah had been hovering nearby, her mind buzzing with thoughts of how to bring up her idea.

Finally, Leah sat down beside Y/N, her knee brushing gently against hers. “Hey,” she started, her tone casual but her intent clear.

Y/N glanced up, her brows lifting. “Hey,” she said, setting her phone down. “What’s up?”

Leah hesitated, then took Y/N’s hand, threading their fingers together. “I’ve been thinking about something,” she admitted, her thumb rubbing slow circles over Y/N’s knuckles.

Y/N tilted her head, a soft smile tugging at her lips. “Okay. What is it?”

Leah took a breath, meeting Y/N’s eyes. “I was thinking… maybe we could set up a space here. At home. For when you’re feeling overwhelmed or… when you need me.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed instantly, and she looked down at their joined hands. “Leah…”

“I’m serious,” Leah said gently, squeezing her hand. “I want you to have a place where you feel completely safe. No pressure, no shame—just us. Whenever you need it.”

Y/N bit her lip, her heart fluttering at Leah’s words. “You’d really do that? For me?”

Leah smiled softly. “I’d do anything for you,” she said simply.

They spent the rest of the afternoon working together to create their safe space. Leah suggested a corner of the bedroom, tucked away and quiet. They rearranged a few things, adding a soft chair, a warm throw blanket, and a small shelf for whatever made Y/N feel most at ease.

Y/N watched as Leah carefully folded the blanket, placing it over the arm of the chair. Her chest ached with love and gratitude.

“Leah,” she said softly, her voice trembling.

Leah turned, concern flashing across her face. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Y/N said quickly, shaking her head. “I just… I don’t know how to thank you for this. For everything.”

Leah stepped closer, her hands finding Y/N’s shoulders. “You don’t have to thank me,” she said firmly. “This is what love looks like. Supporting each other. Being there for each other. You deserve this, Y/N.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, and she threw her arms around Leah, holding her tightly.

That evening, Y/N found herself curled up in the new chair, Leah sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of her. They had spent the evening talking and laughing, but now a comfortable silence had settled between them.

Y/N was fiddling with the edge of the blanket, her thoughts drifting. The space Leah had created felt perfect—calm, safe, hers.

Leah reached out, resting a hand lightly on Y/N’s knee. “You look like you’re thinking about something,” she said, her voice low and warm.

Y/N hesitated, her cheeks flushing. “I was just… I was wondering if maybe…”

Leah tilted her head, waiting patiently.

Y/N took a shaky breath. “Could we try? You know. Here?”

Leah’s heart softened at the shy, vulnerable way Y/N spoke. She nodded, standing up and sitting beside Y/N in the chair. “Of course we can,” she said softly.

Leah raised from the floor to sit on the new rocking chair. Y/N layed on top of Leah, leaning into her side, her fingers clutching at her shirt. Leah wrapped an arm around her, pulling her close.

“You’re safe,” Leah murmured, brushing a kiss against her hair. Slowly, she lifted her shirt and pulled her bra down slightly, just enough to reassure Y/N. “Whenever you’re ready, love.”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, but Leah’s steady presence gave her the courage she needed. She latched on, her breath shaky as the tension in her body began to melt away.

Leah held her close, her other hand gently rubbing Y/N’s back. “You’re doing so well,” she whispered. “I’m so proud of you.”

Y/N’s eyes fluttered shut, her breathing evening out as the overwhelming calmness of the moment settled over her.

Leah stayed still for as long as Y/N needed, her heart full as she watched the anxiety leave her love’s face. When Y/N finally pulled back, her cheeks were pink, but her smile was soft and genuine.

“Thank you,” Y/N murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Leah cupped her cheek, her thumb brushing gently over her skin. “You never have to thank me for this,” she said, kissing her forehead. “You’re my priority, Y/N. Always.”

As the evening turned into night, they curled up together in bed, Y/N still resting against Leah’s chest.

Leah kissed her temple, her voice a soft promise in the dark. “You’re safe here. Always.”

And this time, Y/N believed her completely.

A/N:hello! guys! i’ve deleted part 6 and i’ve found no way to get it back😭 anyways i hope you enjoy part 3! i like the idea of having a rocking chair in your own room for any purpose really, reading, relaxing, or anything! also i tried to find the most accurate shelf for the picture but just imagine it as you’d like it to be. Anyways i’m on christmas break so… i’ll be posting more often! I HOPE Y’ALL HAVE AN AWESOME CHRISTMAS! BIG LOVE, THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE❤️

[mysteria157]

Moment Two: Your Daughter's First Pair

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Black Fem Reader

CW: fluff, profanity (not really), sexual suggestion, slight angst (very minimal).

Word Count: ~3.4k

Summary: Nanami joins you and your daughter for a family tradition, but he may not be as strong as he thinks.

Set in the It Had To Be You universe but you don't need a lot of backstory to follow along.

Notes: This was a random thought that I had based on something that has always been a thing in my family that I wanted to write out. There is nothing significant about this, I have not written Nanami in a LONG time, so I'm trying to warm myself up again. I am so rusty but I'm using fleeting moments of inspiration and taking advantage of it.

Likes, reblogs, and comments are always welcome! Happy reading!

Divider: @saradika | Header: myself

| Twitter | Ao3 | Masterlist | Moment One | Moment Three...Eventually

©mysteria157, all rights reserved. DO NOT copy, plagiarize, reupload, modify, or translate (without permission) my work to other accounts and platforms.

MINORS DNI

“You don’t need to hold her so tight.”

“I’m protecting her.”

“And what am I, a goat?”

He raises a brow at your jest, autumn wheat and elegant but nonetheless annoyed as he glares at you. He doesn’t mean it, you know that—it’s all nerves.

“Ken, we don’t have to do this you know? If you’re against the idea, we can wait a few more years.”

“I’m not against it,” he reassures you, adjusting your daughter in his arms. Ulani babbles up at him, her chubby hands digging into a sharply cut cheekbone. He carries on without complaint, already used to her behavior. “This is a tradition, and I understand it but…”

You turn a key chain in one hand, your thumb smoothing along the glittery face of a dog—or is it a cat? The rack is filled with key chains of different colors, animals and objects, bringing back memories of middle school when you would drag your best friend Omelia into this same store in Sendai before it closed down. Despite the many years that have passed, the store chain still has its subtle hues of purples and pinks, earrings punched through purple cardboard paper, pens with wonky erasers, and headbands of different designs.

“But what?” you try to finish for him, smiling up at his nervous form as he lets Ulani talk to him in her own baby language.

Kento pulls in a deep breath as if to steel his nerves and prepare for the inevitable. He’s praying to whoever will listen, trying to use every coping mechanism in the book. He’s wearing jeans that hug his fit thighs and a dark blue short sleeve that shows too much bicep for your liking (you should give him a dress code). There are only so many single and married women and men that you can glare at in a day, and the redhead over by the register is pushing it.

“Will it hurt her?” your boyfriend’s low timber pulls you back, filled with apprehension, and he keeps mahogany eyes on his daughter to avoid showing you just how scared he is. You rub his back to soothe him, tracing the bands of muscle that are tense behind the soft fabric.

“I-I’m worried.”

“And you shouldn’t be. It’s a simple thing, lasts two seconds. Just like when she got her first shots.”

That’s not enough for him, because now Kento furrows his eyebrows in frustration, bouncing his daughter in his arms to entertain her and also soothe himself. “There are a lot of things to consider. The risk of infection. Rejection. What if she hates them? What if they get caught on her clothes? Or her curls? Or—”

“Are we ready?” one of the employee’s sing songs from behind you both, walking towards the singular chair perched against the glass wall of the store.

“I—” Kento croaks, clearing his throat and swallowing loudly. He looks down at you. “Are we?”

In the time you’ve known him, you’ve only seen Kento visibly nervous a handful of times. That stoic demeanor is a smooth, stone-like shell to everyone else besides family and close friends, but you know the weak spots and have glimpsed into the fragmented sections only visible to your eyes. Right now, he’s nervous and fearful beyond belief. That all encompassing love and attention that he shows you from sunup to sundown extends to his daughter as well. If there is one person besides you, who can make Nanami Kento show his emotions freely and without reservation no matter the date, place, or time, it’s Ulani.

“How about you hold her?” you suggest and give him a small push towards the black chair. Two employees work at the small kiosk next to him, unwrapping sterile materials and cotton swabs. Kento’s eyes watch every movement, searching for any sign of threat that can give him the ammunition to take his daughter and never come back. You can practically hear his thoughts:

“Is that up to code?”

“How long has that been sealed?”

“What is the name of the manufacturer so that I can ensure it’s reputable?”

Your roll your own eyes, knowing how right you might be.

When you found out your pediatrician would be on her own maternity leave, you let Kento research every establishment in Tokyo until he found one in Shibuya. Reputable, good reviews, and well-practiced in this procedure.

Of course, you’re nervous too. She’s your daughter, a combination of you and Kento, conceived from a very drunken night of disdain but grown out of eventual love and adoration. The thought of her crying in pain makes that maternal part of you flare with anger and the consuming need to protect her forever. But you’ve prepared for this for awhile.

Kento? Not so much.

“Is that clean?” your boyfriend asks one of the employees, clutching his daughter a little tighter. It’s a little rude, but the employee smiles at him in a way that conveys understanding of his trepidation. This isn’t their first rodeo.

“Completely sterile from the package. I promise she’s in great hands.” Deep eyes free of steampunk-esque glasses flicker up at her in doubt, but he simply sniffs and looks back to his daughter instead to withhold a scathing remark. “How about one of us on each side, and we do it at once?” she suggests, addressing him directly. It helps, as he gives her a somber but curt nod.

He situates Ulani in his arms so she’s sitting fully on his lap, his large hands holding her up with a slight tremble. The sight is enough to remind you again that this is new territory for him. What has always been a normal tradition for you and the other females in your life, is a foreign concept for him.

Ear piercings are a milestone in a young girl’s life. You got yours as a baby, and so did your mother. Omelia got hers as a baby, as did all her female cousins, as did her mother and the mother before her. If you interacted with your mother’s side of the family, then maybe you would know if your cousins also did the same.

But that’s another thought for another time, and you refuse to let painful memories tarnish what should be a memory you are crafting on your own, right now.

You step closer and run your hands through thick blond locks that are free of gel. You brush the strands from his forehead, letting the soft texture slip past your fingertips as he relaxes instantly. With his place in his chair, he’s at the perfect height to rest his head on your stomach, and he does so a second later.

One of his hands brushes light brown curls from his daughters ears. You can feel the unease radiating from him with every deep breath he takes, and you scratch that spot at his nape that makes him shudder, hoping it will help.

The muscles in Kento’s neck bunch together instead when one of the employee’s leans toward Ulani to make marks in deep purple, and even your own stomach turns in response at what’s to come. 

“Okay, we will do this on three. How’s that sound honey?” one of the employees coos at your daughter. Ulani, who is a carbon copy of her father, stares up at her, observant and sinking into her daddy before offering a gummy smile. “She’s so pretty.”

“She’s beautiful,” Kento corrects, slightly rough but still appreciative of the compliment. “Aren’t you, my dove?”

He tickles her side and offers a rare chuckle as she squeals up at him, wiggling in her father’s embrace. The sight makes your heart do flips because this is your world, day in and day out. Just you, Kento, and the person you’ve created together.

You step around to squat in front of him so you’re eye level with your daughter, a hand coming up to wiggle the toes covered in a tan sock. Her eyes catch you immediately, and she holds your gaze long enough for the two employees to position themselves on each side of her. 

Kento holds his breath.

“Alright, here we go. One. Two. Three.”

They both move in sync, pressing down on the plastic gun so the studs slide through the soft lobe of Ulani’s lower ears. Kento’s eyebrows furl together immediately. Ulani’s eyes widen for a second before her face contorts, her mouth opening in a silent cry. Your heart hammers and your chest tightens in an sudden flood of sadness and desperation that crashes against you like a tumultuous wave when Ulani takes one heaving breath in….

And screams.

His reaction is quick. Kento bounces one leg at a tempo that alarms you, his handsome face flying through different stages of grief, anger, and pain as he watches the employees adjust the diamond earrings to ensure they heal without complication. His mouth opens and closes, jaw grinding to keep his rudeness in check, because you know what he wants to say.

He was the same way when she got her shots; all glares and sharp stares at everyone else because they were the source of her discomfort. But like that time before, you are the cooling balm for his hot anger as you wiggle your daughters toes and murmur soothing words at her, to show him that she’s going to be just fine.

“It’s okay, baby,” you smile softly and it’s enough to capture her attention even though she’s squealing and crying from the sharp but quick pain in her ears. But all too quickly, you’re not enough for her, because the daughter that you carried for almost ten months turns away and reaches for her father, crying loudly in his arms. It’s a sting that you prepared for, but nonetheless hurts with a severity that takes a few seconds for you to recover from.

By the time you pay one of the employees and exit the store, Ulani has already calmed down. Kento digs into the diaper bag on his shoulder and pulls out a cotton cloth, wiping her nose as she sniffles and whines into his shoulder.

“I know honey, I know,” he coos to her, wiping the tears from her light brown skin and swaying back and forth. “But you were so strong, weren’t you? Hmm? A lot stronger than me.”

He pulls her away from his neck, smiling softly at her, and that one smile makes your chest bloom with satisfaction. It’s times like these that remind you how your life has surprisingly fallen into place. Who would have thought that the man who used to drive you insane would be the only one fit for you? 

That small twinge of hurt you felt minutes ago when Ulani turned away from you resurfaces, but reassurance cools it’s prickly edges. Even though this is a moment you may have been more connected with, it’s Kento who feels the painful side of it a lot more.

So you give him his own moment. You watch quietly as he kisses her chubby cheeks repeatedly, smiling into her skin at the giggles that leave her. You fall into the hum of the world around you as you watch him tuck away the cotton cloth and smooth the curls away from Ulani’s ears, finally admiring the diamonds that twinkle on each side. The lobes will be red for a few days, but for Ulani, she will never think of them again until she’s old enough to pay attention. Until she’s old enough to change them out to match the outfits she decides to wear, different colors and gemstones, and multiples if she ever has a streak of expression in her teenage years. Like you did.

Kento finally looks down at you, chestnut browns sparkling as he takes you in from head to toe. The harsh Shibuya sun beats down on bustling city square, but the rays are soft when they touch him. Tan skin is illuminated gold on his cheekbones, his hair luminous in the sun. You reach up to run a hand through his locks for the second time this afternoon, your heart still not used to the incessant hammering that arises when he leans into your touch.

You lift an accusatory eyebrow at him and hold back a chuckle when you speak. “Our daughter was the soldier this afternoon, and yet I’m coddling you?”

“Keep coddling,” he demands, voice tinged with mirth as he turns to place a kiss inside of your palm and then leans back into your stroking. “Today was very painful for me, have you no shame?” 

You snort and dig your nails into his scalp in retaliation, enjoying the groan that rumbles in the air from your ministrations. “Don’t blame this one moment on your entire day. You had a great run, remember?”

“My slowest three mile run yet.” Quick on the draw, and you already know where this is going. Kento rarely complains, but when he does, it is about the most trivial things as a means to get and keep your attention.

“You made me pancakes this morning.”

“Not my best work. Too much cinnamon in the batter.”

“We made out two hours ago?”

“Ulani woke from her nap and interrupted what would have been a very enjoyable afternoon.” That complaint leaves his mouth in a grumble, and you purse your lips to hold off the laughter that sits in the back of your throat. He’s truly pouting, and god do you love him.

“And now seeing your daughter cry from her first ear piercing was icing on the cake of a bad day, I imagine?”

“Exactly.”

You finally giggle and playfully pull a strand of his hair. He narrows his eyes at you, mischievous yet still carrying that ingrained indifference that you know and love. Ulani shrieks in his arms, finally past her blip of crying and now ready for her parent’s attention. You take in her drool of a smile, slightly red ears, and brown onesie-dress, and the possibilities flood your mind. It’s…very overwhelming when the thoughts hit you: how she will grow into herself, develop her personality, her wants and desires, her hobbies and her dreams. 

“Pay attention to me,” he interrupts your thoughts, and you can’t help the bark of laughter that you give him in response. Ulani mimics you, completely oblivious.

“You’re such a baby, and we have a baby,” you tease, snorting at his level expression and dusty cheeks, slightly shy but absorbing your presence. “You and Ulani have had it rough today. So how about a reward?” You look to your daughter when you ask, knowing damn well she has no idea what you’re saying but you want to include her anyway.

“How about frozen yogurt?” I.e., the unsweetened applesauce in the diaper bag for Ulani and matcha-flavored frozen yogurt for Kento from a favorite vendor a few blocks away. It’s an obsession of his that’s been appearing in the freezer with numbing regularity.

Kento remains unphased by your suggestion, though his lips twitch with the desire to smirk down at you.

“Seeing our daughter in pain was more heartbreaking than I thought. Food may not help, I’m afraid.”

Kento is milking his “pain” at this point, and you’re far too in love with him not to entertain the idea you know is floating in his head. You love this about him, just how playful he is when it comes to you.

“You’re a tough nut to crack.” You tap your chin as if you’re thinking hard, humming in contemplation. “How about…” you trail off, a hand sliding up a muscular bicep before massaging his nape again, relishing in the shudder he gives in response, his eyes twitching to hold back the urge to roll into his head in satisfaction. “Since you’ve suffered so much today…we can go home…and I’ll do that thing you like.”

You have the privilege and skill of being able to read Nanami Kento like a book. You don’t miss the glee that dances across his features—the uptick of one side of his mouth, the slow brow lift, the darkening of his irises. He knows exactly what that thing is. You’re pretty good at it—a master at it—and he made you promise that the day he ever turns that thing down, is the day you can leave him.

His cheeks explode in blush, jaw ticking before he clears his throat and smooths a sweaty hand down the dark blue of his shirt.

“I see,” he ponders, looking up to the sky as if in deep thought, and you know if you roll your eyes again, they’ll get stuck. “Well.” He situates Ulani in his arms and presses a few kisses to her cheek again to pull those giggles from her that you both love. “Who am I to deny your mother?” he suggests to his daughter. “Not a moment to waste, Ulani.”

“You’ve got to be kidding—”

“Quickly, before you change your mind.” He slides a hand to the small of your back as a means to hurry you along, pressing softly and turning you in the direction of the car.

You try to bat his hands away from you, giggles growing in volume as he dodges all your attempts to get rid of him. “I’m not going to change my mind, Ken—”

“Quickly.”

He takes your hand and you let him pull you, beaming at his back as he increases his pace. Ulani is happy as can be in her father’s arms and babbling as he talks softly to her.

“A snack before nap time sounds good, doesn’t it? What kind of applesauce would you like today?” She gurgles. “Cinnamon again? Hmmm, we should always try new things, Dove. What about the strawberry ones I bought you yesterday?” A squeal. “Strawberry it is. I think…”

The rest of their conversation fades into the background as you walk with them, warmth coursing through your veins with each step. It’s a warmth that catches you off guard, but has been ever present since Ulani’s birth. And you love every bit of how it feels. How it flows through you with every breath you take. How it only grows every minute, every hour, every day that you create a life with them.

After Ulani is buckled in her car seat and you slide your seat belt into its latch, Kento leans across the armrest, a warm hand sliding against your cheek in a gentle caress before he slants his lips against yours. It’s a surprise, but the shock dies as quickly as it forms as you melt into his touch—full lips that know your own and soft blonde locks brushing your face.

That affection that he pulls from you every day is given back in this moment—freely and without restraint—in the parking lot of Claire’s in Shibuya, where your daughter got her ears pierced for the first time.

When he pulls away and whispers his love for you against your lips, you repeat it back to him without thinking. It’s a motion that you both carry out whenever you can. 

“No more piercings. My heart will probably give out.”

“Do you feel better?” you ask in a tone that is filled with the teasing nature that sticks to you like a second skin.

He loves it, but doesn’t take the bait, and instead kisses your lips again, each cheek, and the tip of your nose. “I will soon.” The innuendo is so obvious you can taste it. He’s been with you too long to be a blushing and awkward man. “Once Ulani is asleep.” You push him away with a giggling huff and savor the deep chuckle that falls from his lips, permeating the air of the car.

As Kento drives through the crowded streets towards your shared home in Nakameguro, the hand not on the steering wheel envelops yours, a thumb stroking the skin of your palm. You look out the window and observe the colors and cars that zoom by, and the sound of a deep breath behind you makes you look back. And when you do, your heart gives a painful but welcoming lurch as you gaze at her. Your daughter already asleep, her head dipping to the side—curly locks askew and sticking to the drool on her face, and her new diamond earrings shining back at you.

Thanks for reading!

[ayyy-pee]

𝔼𝕡𝕚𝕤𝕠𝕕𝕖 𝟘.𝟝 - 𝕋𝕠𝕠 𝕄𝕦𝕔𝕙 𝕥𝕠 𝔻𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕜

Discord 18+ - Twitter - Next Episode

Pairing: JJK Men x Female Reader

Episode Summary: After a drunken night of binge watching your (least?) favorite show, you find yourself making a grave mistake.

STORY TWIST: READERS WILL VOTE AFTER CERTAIN CHAPTERS TO CHOOSE WHO GETS A ROSE AND MAKES IT TO THE NEXT WEEK. KEEP A LOOKOUT FOR THE VOTING LINK AT THE END OF CHAPTERS

Story Warning: DRAMA, lying and scheming, REVERSE HAREM, profanity bc I can only be me, arguments, fights probably, heartbreak and tears, (more to come)

Artist Credit: momoya348, Umbra3terna, ilameys,maoyaoyao519, _0_0219 Divider Credit: Cafekitsune (Tumblr)

A/N: IT'S FINALLY HEREEEEEE! I hope you guys enjoy this ride (that you're in charge of in later chapters!!!) I'll put up Episode 1 tomorrow after proofreading!!! <3

“God, this show is so stupid,” you mutter, shoving a handful of popcorn into your mouth while you get settled onto the couch.

“Please…It’s so bad, but I tune in to every season.”

You glance over when your friend reaches into your lap and dips her fingers into your bowl of popcorn and grabs a few kernels.

That was the perfect way to describe what was happening now. You’re currently huddled up on the couch, having spent the day binging the most recent season of The Bachelor until you’re all caught up. The new episode airs tonight and you’re eager to see who Joey ends up picking. Will it be Rachel? She’s gorgeous, funny, and her family seems to really get along with this season’s Bachelor. They have great chemistry. Or maybe it will be Daisy? Though you couldn’t see that working out. The girl is a total bore. Or it could be…what’s her name again? The one who looks a little bit like she could be his sister. Ah, whatever.

You’re not sure when you really began to even give a shit about this mess of a show. It’s corny. No one falls in love within a few weeks of knowing each other. And why does one man or woman need to date twenty people to find someone to marry? Are they that unlikeable in the real world? Not to mention, it’s totally unrealistic. Do these relationships even work out once the cameras cut off? Unlikely. You find the entire premise of the show downright stupid.

And yet, you can’t tear your eyes away as this season’s Bachelor takes each girl out on an extravagant date that…you can’t lie, you would love to be on.

Dancing in Malta? Sunbathing on a yacht off the coast of Spain? Getting to see Niagara Falls up close? Sign you up. You don’t think you would stand a chance being the object of everyone’s affection, but you could definitely milk being a contestant for free trips and good food.

“Why can’t he see that Rachel is the best pick here? Ugh, annoying. You know he’s going to give what’s-her-name the last rose.” Your friend downs her wine in one swig and you don’t bother to hold back the laugh bubbling in your chest. She’s all red faced. You’re not sure if it’s from how passionate she is about the show or from the two empty bottles of merlot she’s managed to down practically on her own, but the glowing hue it gives her highlights the thick scar across her face. A product of her line of work, and said line of work being the reason she’s guzzling wine in the first place.

“Maybe take it easy on the drinks, Utahime.”

She hiccups next to you, slouching in her seat. “I haven’t even had that much to drink!”

“You’ve had most of the wine just on your own!”

“Oh my god, you have one or nine glasses of wine and suddenly you’re wasted,” she mutters sarcastically. “I’m fine.”

You roll your eyes, because you know there’s no going back and forth with her stubborn ass when she starts drinking. 

The living room dims for about three seconds before it lights back up, the show now having gone on commercial break. The rose ceremony is next and despite shit-talking the show only ten minutes ago, you’re eager for the commercials to wrap up so you can see who goes home. It better not be Rachel. You use this brief intermission to go and get some water for yourself but mostly Utahime so she can sober up.

This has been your routine for the last few weeks. Every Monday night, Utahime comes over, peels you out of your bed and forces you on the couch to chug alcohol and watch this ridiculous show. While you find the entire premise of the show nonsensical, you’re grateful for the time it’s given you with Utahime.

You’re fairly new to the Kyoto area and Utahime was the first person you’d met on your first day at your new – how can you put this? – unique job. You see, you and Utahime both work in the field of Jujutsu sorcery. But there’s about where your similarities in the field stop.

Utahime is an active Sorcerer. She’s an instructor raising up the next generation of Sorcerers, building them up so that they can one day join the frontlines to protect the unaware non-Sorcerers of Japan. She’s strong– a grade 1 Sorcerer. Quite impressive. She could easily knock a curse’s head off if she wanted to.

But you? Well, while Utahime is at the top of the ranks of Jujutsu society, you are what some would refer to as a bottomfeeder – an unranked, unimportant, lowly Window. You’re someone who has just enough cursed energy to see a curse. But can you do anything about them? Not unless you want to end up in the nearest trauma center. So if you’re smart, you’ll do your job and whip your phone out to report it so that the real Sorcerers can handle it.

You’ve been in this field for several years now, but working outside of the major cities of Japan. Transferring to Kyoto was your idea of wanting something new and different. Utahime had quickly taken you under her wing. You were certain it was because she took pity on you. A weak, barely gifted Window. But as time went on, you came to realize that that was just Utahime. She was kind and funny, and had a good heart. Well, except when it came to –

“Hey!” Utahime calls from her spot on the couch. You can hear a slur in her words as she speaks and you know she’s opened yet another bottle of wine from who knows where. “Come here! Look at this!” You peer at the television from the doorway of your kitchen and see Utahime has it paused on a very ugly ad. It’s bright white with a background full of red rose petals across the screen. Your eyes roam over the words.

“THE SEARCH IS ON FOR THE ELIGIBLE WOMEN WHO ARE READY TO FIND TRUE LOVE! DO YOU OR SOMEONE YOU KNOW HAVE THE CHARM, STYLE, AND PERSONALITY TO BE OUR NEXT STAR? IF SO, APPLY OR NOMINATE SOMEONE NOW!”

“Will you hurry up? Come look!” Utahime demands, messily pouring more wine into her glass. But it looks like a normal advertisement to you, so you’re not entirely sure what has Utahime’s interest so piqued.

She beckons you again, yelling “Come here!” So you quickly grab a couple bottles of water from your fridge and head back. Utahime is pointing insistently at the screen. “Look. Look really hard.”

You follow the path where her finger points, shuffling closer to the t.v. to get a clearer look. It takes a moment for you to see it, like really see it, but it’s definitely there. Underneath the last line, hidden from the eyes of those unable to see the horrors that you and those like Utahime can, is another message. You fall to your knees, eyes glued to the tiny additional message floating beneath, glowing with cursed energy that reads, “JUJUTSU SorcererS PREFERRED”. 

Confusion slowly takes over your features, the corners of your lips turning down with a frown, a brow arched and skepticism in your eyes. Were you missing something? Was this some sick joke? Were Jujutsu Sorcerers huge fans of The Bachelor or something? You spin around to face your friend who has a look of mischief twinkling in her eyes. You know it all too well, mouth falling open and a finger pointing when you scream “NO” at the exact moment Utahime yells “YOU SHOULD APPLY!”

“Absolutely not!” You must be looking at Utahime like she’s grown two more heads because she looks just as confused as you.

“Why not?! You’d be great on there!”

Maybe she hasn’t grown two more heads. Maybe her brain was swapped while you were in the kitchen because why the hell was she suggesting this?

“Well, for starters, I’m not really looking to date.”

Utahime rolls her eyes, as if that’s just not a good enough excuse. You should just ignore her, snatch the remote from her hand and hit play so you can get back to the show and see who this guy chooses to potentially get engaged to. But for some reason (could be the single drop of wine your friend allowed you to have while she downed the rest), you feel the need to keep listing off reasons to not sign up. “Secondly, I– why would I even want to go on this show?”

Utahime sips her wine, eyes low as she falls into her drunkenness, but you can still see the sparkle of mischief in those brown hues…and it scares you. So you keep talking, chatting away and listing excuse after excuse to your friend, eventually finding yourself back on the couch trying to drive your final point home.

“Besides, they want Sorcerers.” This seems to get Utahime’s attention again, makes her set her glass down as she looks at you.

“I’m sure it’s fine. You are a Sorcerer.”

“I’m a Window.”

“Semantics. You can see curses, can’t you?” Utahime argues.

“...yes.” You shift uncomfortably in your seat. “But I can’t do anything about them.”

It’s not something you should be ashamed of, but there’s just the tiniest bit of you that is ashamed. Because being able to see these monsters and not having the power to do anything about them…well, it feels like a curse in and of itself.

To this, she sighs. “Sorcerers, Windows. They’re just terms used by the higher-ups to keep their stupid, fucked up heirarchy intact.”

You know it’s the wine that’s loosened her tongue. In public, Utahime would not dare to speak so freely. The Jujutsu politics in Kyoto were a lot stricter than they were in Tokyo. Not that that said much anyway. The politics were shit regardless. But Utahime worked closely with those connected to the higher-ups, so outside of this little bubble in your apartment, she kept pretty hush hush about her true feelings.

You watch Utahime closely as she fiddles with her wine glass. She really is beautiful. You think she’d be incredible on a show like this. Which gives you the idea.

“What don’t you apply?”

Utahime leans back, a cackle so loud and abrupt leaving her tiny body.

“No way. I would never date any of these Sorcerers.”

“And you want me to?!” You ask incredulously. You don’t know whether to be offended or not.

Your friend fixes you with a deadpan stare. “You don’t know them the way I do. The only good one out of all of them is Nanami Kento…and Shoko.” She mutters the last name quietly, like it’s a secret that she thinks so highly of her. And maybe it is a secret…the way she feels about the doctor in Tokyo who you couldn’t help but notice has Utahime’s cheeks glowing red whenever she’s mentioned.

“Besides,” Utahime continues. “If I signed up for this and got paired with Gojo –” she shudders at the mere thought of being near the man. “I don’t think I’d be able to keep myself from projectile vomiting just at the prospect of having to kiss him.”

It’s your turn to laugh obnoxiously now, because – “Why the hell would the strongest Sorcerer in a thousand years sign up for this shit? You don’t think he has anything better to do? Like, you know…keep all of Japan safe?”

“Satoru Gojo does whatever Satoru Gojo wants.”

You can’t argue with that. Utahime would know best. She did grow up with him after all. She knew him well. You’ve never met the man, being just a Window, you doubt you ever will. Out of all the Sorcerers, you’ve only ever met Utahime and Principal Gakuganji. You’ve never even met any of the students. You all run in different circles, but that doesn't mean you don’t keep up with the going-ons of the Jujutsu world. Everyone knows Satoru Gojo.

“You should really sign up, though,” Utahime suggests once more. “You might meet a good person. If anything, you’ll get a good vacation out of it.” With that, she stands. It’s clear that the wine is hitting her again, because she wobbles clumsily to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her.

If it’s anything like every other week before this, you’ll be peeling Utahime out of your bathtub because she will have inevitably fallen asleep.

Your eyes fall back on the hidden message on the television, reading it over and over before you finally just hit play and let the finale finish.

Joey chooses whatever that girl’s name is. You’re only halfway paying attention because against your better judgment, you’re actually thinking about applying to this. But you think the show is stupid, right? Why would you waste your time? But what if Utahime is right? What if you do meet someone? It’s not that you’re against dating. You’re just not actively in the market for romance because you’ve found that dating non-Sorcerers is more stress than it’s worth.

The constant obligation you feel to regulate their emotions so you can avoid the creation of a cursed spirit that you’ll have to call in and do paperwork for? Exhausting. Not to mention, if you ever grew to truly love this person, you’d be overwhelmed with guilt if a curse manifested and harmed them in any way and you couldn’t do anything but watch in horror as you made a phone call.

You’d never really given any thought to it, but perhaps dating a Sorcerer is what you needed. You could end up meeting an amazing man!

But also, semantics or not, you were not technically a Sorcerer. You were simply a Window. Why the hell would an actual Sorcerer want to be with you? Better yet, what were the chances of this show even choosing you as their next Bachelorette?

- - - - - -

Apparently, the chances were extremely high, because one phone call, four video interviews, a nearly five hour drive from Kyoto to Tokyo, and days of promotional video and photo shoots later, you find yourself standing outside of the Bachelor Mansion, donning the most expensive gown that money could buy.

This is not what you expected. Not at all. There is so much going on. You want to run and hide from every single camera you see being propped up. You want to curl into yourself when the lights come on and the director calls, “Action!” And you see some man you’re just meeting for the first time approaching as he speaks directly to the camera.

“...and she’ll be making history tonight as The Bachelorette’s first Jujutsu Sorcerer,” you hear him tell the camera as he stops just a few feet short of you. Tall, blonde and handsome. He looks like an American football player. “I’m Jesse Palmer, ladies and gentleman. Now, let’s meet our Bachelorette!”

He turns to you, wearing a bright smile. The cameras follow, moving closer to catch a close-up of your face, so you smile as naturally as you can and try not to flinch when Jesse moves forward to embrace you in a swift hug.

Jesse calls your name as though you’ve been friends for a long time. “So nice to finally see you. You look great.”

The camera pans down your body and back up to your face. “Likewise, Jesse.”

“How’re you feeling?” he asks.

“I’m nervous! Definitely nervous, but feeling good! I’m so excited for this,” you lie. You’re dreading this process. But it’s too late to back out now. So you just hold your smile, conversing politely as Jesse makes small talk and gets to know you before the first contestant pulls up.

And you hope that if Utahime is watching, she sees the message behind your eyes screaming that you’re absolutely going to kill her.

[atleastpleasetelephone]

Little Darling

Epilogue

It's 1997, and Elvis is still alive and well. He quit music in 1972 after a successful world tour, and now he runs Presley Studios - teaching people karate across America. His daughter and grandchildren are regular visitors at Graceland, and when he’s in Memphis he likes to do a little teaching. His life is quieter now, though. Most of the Mafia have gone - going to live their own lives - and after his divorce from his second wife, Elvis is sworn off women for good. Will a Welsh girl with a wicked sense of humour be the one to make him break his promise to himself not to fall in love again?

Need to catch up? Go here.

Pairing: Old Man!Elvis x OC - Tegan, a Welsh girl he meets at karate.

Word count: 1.3K

TWs: Just a little dirty talk really.

A/N: Well, this is the end! Thanks to everyone who has interacted with this fic - it was a labour of love and I have cherished every single comment, reblog and message 💕

When Tegan wakes the next morning she feels the events of the night before in her body before she remembers them. As they start to come back to her, slowly at first and then more and more rapidly she feels a smile spreading across her face. She’d enjoyed last night. A lot. She rolls over to find Elvis already sat up in bed, reading. Groaning and stretching, she tries to wake herself up properly. It’d been really late when Jerry had finally left their bed for his own; they’d spent hours talking together about all sorts of things. 

“Mornin’ sunshine.”

Elvis closes the book and puts it down on the bedside table, looking at his girlfriend as she peers back through half-open eyes. 

“Mmmm. ‘Raur.”

“How ya feelin’?”

She closes one eye and squints at him through the other. “Thoroughly fucked.”

That earns her a belly laugh, one of her absolute favourite Elvis reactions. “Well that’s coz ya were, baby.”

She closes both eyes and puts her face in her hands, giggling. “I loved it,” she admits, still hiding. 

“Hmmm. Well it was a damn good Christmas gift, considerin’ ya didn’t even know Jerry was comin’ until the night before.”

She looks up, cautiously. “You think I’m a slut, for doing that? I only just met the guy…”

Elvis shakes his head, leaning down to kiss the top of hers. “Baby, I used ta fuck a different girl every night on some tours. Met ‘em, liked ‘em, made ‘em cum. Plus I know ya only jus’ met ‘im, but Jerry’s been my best friend fer years.”

Tegan thinks about this as she slowly sits up. “You ever do this with Stella?”

He blinks in surprise. “Uh… no.”

“Oh.”

“I uh… she wanted the picket fence life.”

She shifts to lean against him. “What kind of life do you want?”

“One with you in it, honey.”

She smiles against his pyjama top. “Me too.”

“But, uh, not one with Jerry… y’know…”

“I’m not sure I do know.”

Elvis sighs. “Yer makin’ me say it, again.”

“I mean, last night you told me you and Jerry used to take it in turns to fuck women you met on tour. And now you’re going all shy again?”

“I was a little drunk last night, darlin’.”

Tegan looks up at his face from her position with her head against his shoulder. “What’re you trying to say, ‘raur? Spit it out.”

Another deep sigh. “Last night was fun. But I don’t want Jerry as a permanent fixture in our bedroom.”

Tegan raises an eyebrow. 

“I don’t want him fuckin’ ya all the time!” Elvis snaps, exasperated. “Yer mine. I don’t mind if he borrows ya, under supervision… on special occasions y’know. But not…” he sighs again and waves a finger around in a circle. “This… ain’t a thing.”

Tegan smiles at his possessiveness. She feels like she ought to be offended by him talking about her like she’s a rare library book, but instead it makes her feel all warm inside. 

“I enjoyed last night a lot,” she begins, wrapping her arm around him. “I’m glad we did it. And if you and Jerry want to do it again before he leaves, then I’d be down. But I don’t want anything more than that. One boyfriend is enough.”

It’s Elvis’ turn to raise an eyebrow. “Ya wanna do it again?”

She giggles into his shoulder. “Mmm. Yeah.”

“Well, we’ll see about that, little girl…”

***

Elvis, Tegan and Jerry have fun together again more than once, but after Elvis’ massive New Year’s Eve party Jerry goes back to LA, and although they both miss him they’re glad to be back to just the two of them for a while. They get professional photos taken of the two of them with Coffi, and the best one - where they have forgotten the camera and are just staring into one another’s eyes, giggling over some shared joke or other - hangs with the other family shots on the wall in the living room of Graceland. They share their time between the mansion and the apartment, and despite Elvis’ best attempts to persuade her to give it up, Tegan continues working at the recording studio, though she drops down to three days a week as a compromise. She finally takes her grading seriously, and by the end of the year she’s a purple belt. Elvis is proud of her, but he still thinks she could practise more at home. 

He travels less for work now, feeling content staying in Memphis for months at a time. There are still times when he has to pay one of the studios on the other side of the country a visit, and Tegan can’t always take time off work to go with him. He misses her like crazy, but she’s secretly a little relieved to have time to herself, though of course she doesn’t tell him that. 

One day after a trip to Kansas, he presents her with a big box with a pink bow on the outside. 

“Jus’ somethin’ for ya for next time I’m away.”

Tegan’s mind boggles at the possibilities, but nothing she thinks of is what she eventually finds in the box. 

“It’s…a bear?”

“Squeeze ‘im.”

Tegan puts both hands around the middle of the teddy and squeezes.

“Daddy misses ya, Tegan bach.” The teddy bear says, in Elvis’ unmistakable drawl. 

Tegan squeals, then giggles, then squeezes it again to see if it does the same thing, which it does. 

“He’s from build-a-bear,” Elvis explains. “Got ‘im from the second store in the country. Ya make ‘im yerself, put a little heart in him…” he smiles, bashfully. “...an’ ya can record a little thing for ‘im ta say. Got them ta open the store in the middle of the night fer me so I didn’t get papped doin’ it.”

“Aww ‘raur!” Tegan throws an arm around Elvis’ neck, cuddling him close and holding the bear out to the side slightly to avoid squashing him. “He’s adorable. You’re adorable.”

“Glad ya like ‘im, honey.”

They pull apart and she looks down at the bear again. “He needs a name.”

Elvis’ arm slips around her waist and he presses his lips to her ear. “Why don’tcha call ‘im Elvis?”

Tegan pushes on his chest, laughing. “Don’t be filthy now! This is a nice, cute bear!”

“Me? Filthy? I don’t know whatcha mean, Queenie.”

He’s desperately trying to keep a straight face, but Tegan can see his eyes shining with amusement. 

“You’re giving me a bear to keep me company when you’re away, and you want me to name him Elvis?” Her eyebrow is raised and her hand is on her hip, but she’s struggling to keep from laughing, too. 

“Uh huh. Ya can cuddle up ta him in bed when I’m not there.”

“Right, right, yeah of course. That’s all you meant.”

“Sure.” His lip is quivering at this point, as he tries desperately not to grin. “I mean I wouldn’t want ta get between a girl an’ her bear, and whatever else she might wanna do with him when she’s missin’ me…”

“Elvis Presley.” Tegan uses her best school teacherish tone, but eventually the pressure of trying not to laugh gets to be too much and they both burst into peals of laughter. 

“What?!”

She hits him with the bear, inadvertently making the voice go off and their hysterics even worse. 

“Hey, you’ll hurt ‘im!”

“I’ll hurt you in a minute!”

They keep giggling as Elvis pulls her in close, pressing his forehead against hers. 

“Yer always makin’ me laugh, little darlin’,” he breathes. “‘M glad I came ta teach that karate class.”

“I’m glad too, ‘raur.”

“Don't know what I'd do without ya, Queenie.”

She smirks. “Well I can get you your own bear if you really want…”

***

Taglist:

@vintagepresley @arg-xoxo @from-memphis-with-love @msamarican @blursedblegh @returntopresley @eapep @everythingelvispresley @i-r-i-n-a-a @sissylittlefeather @arrolyn1114 @jhoneybees @cattcb @polksaladava @lookingforrainbows @jkdaddy01 @ccab @epthedream69 @lustnhim @elvisslut @pomtherine @that-hotdog @ladelinee @angschrof @fairybloodsucker @deltafalax @makethemorning @elviswhore69 @ilovequeen978 @wildhorseinkansas @pocketfulofpresley @dkayfixates @iloveelvisss @kxnnxy

[biggestxsimps]

Study Date

Draco Malfoy x Male Reader

A/N: This requested over on our Wattpad! I really hope this is okay. Always, if there's anything you think should be changed, just let me know!

You loved to spend your evenings in the library, the smell of ageing pages and vintage furniture always made you feel comfortable. Of course, you weren’t just here to admire your surroundings, but to actually study.

Most of your classes you had, were with your boyfriend, Draco. And somehow, it became harder and harder to focus on classes and get work done. The two of you gossiping as your classes went on without you. Only truly focusing in your Potion’s classes, too afraid to be faced with Snape’s discipline.

That brings you to now, sitting behind a withering table on a just as old chair, as the lamp in front of you flickered ever-so-slightly. You lift your head, stretching your neck as you tear your eyes from the book that felt excruciatingly longer than it was, turning to your mumbling boyfriend.

His book laid open on the table and his hands were quick to copy the printed words onto a yellow-tinted parchment, the hushed words falling from his mouth as he wrote them. As he dips his quill, he glanced your way, noticing your eyes on him.

Leaving the quill in the inkwell, he faces you, a couple bones popping as he shifts out of his previously uncomfortable position. His eyes soften as they fall on you, a small tired smile creeping its way onto his face.

Your lips mimic his, it wasn’t often you saw Draco this relaxed, it was truly a sight for sore eyes. It almost made you sad, his smile not as familiar as it used to be. You sigh, that wasn’t a thought for now.

“I don’t know how much longer I can do this before I either fall asleep or my hand falls off.” He shakes his hand awake as he lets out a scoff, you chuckle, agreeing with him. “I can barely keep my eyes open anymore.” You rub your palms against your aching eyes, trying to keep them open just a little longer.

“I say we take a break.” He leans back in his chair as he crosses his arms. “We’ve been at this for hours.” You hear a slight whine in his voice, you couldn’t deny, a break sounded great right about now. You nod, bringing your arms above your head, exaggeratingly stretching as you groaned.

Once your arms dropped, you brought one to the boy beside you, resting your hand against his cheek. His eyes flutter shut as he digs himself further into your touch, his fingers wrapping around your wrist, bringing you closer.

A tense breath left his lips “I missed you, this.” You let out a little chuckle. “We’re with each other almost all day, every day.” His eyes open back up to send you a playful glare, his other hand sending a soft hit to your leg. “You know what I meant. It’s not often we get peaceful moments, like these, to ourselves.”

You respond, a grin still slightly evident on your face. "I suppose this is nice, I can't say I haven't missed being with you, like this." Your thumb starts to draw little circles against his cold cheek. He hums, clearly enjoying the feeling of your warmer hand.

"You're truly gorgeous, Draco." You watch as pink starts to find its way on his face, his lips slightly twitching before he sunk into your shoulder. You both let out your own quiet laughs, his head dipping into the crook of your neck.

Your hand falls from his cheek, slowly grazing over his body before stopping against his lower back, your fingers twiddling with his loose robes. He follows your movements, bringing his arms around you and holding his hands against your own back.

“You’re too kind to me.” You feel Draco’s smile against your neck as he talks. Your head starts to lightly shake as you whisper back to him. “Only as kind as you deserve.” His head lifts back up, only a few inches from your face. “Thank you.” You feel his light breath fan against your lips before he presses his lips against your own.

The kiss is chaste, full of love and longing as you tangle your hand into his hair, pulling him deeper into you. His hands reach to your neck, wrapping around before slightly pulling you lower into him. The both of you part, breathlessly gasping before reconnecting.

He slowly pulls away after a few seconds, his cheeks about as red as his swelling lips. A comforting silence fills the room as your fingers comb through his hair, brushing down the messy flyaways. Draco slightly hums at the touch, eyes falling shut again.

Draco sighs as he falls back into you. "How are you feeling, Love?" You gently scratch against his scalp before he mumbles against you. "Mhmm.. Just tired." You nod, slightly pulling him off of you.

"C'mere." You lean back as you tap your thighs. He drozily lifts out of his chair, taking a seat in your lap. You keep your torso tilted back as his body completely falls into yours, arms wrapped around your shoulders as he lays his head in your neck.

"Rest well, Draco." Your hand draws and lightly drags around his back, your lips placing a soft kiss against his forehead. He whispers back a "G'night" before you hear his light snores.

A/N: I honestly enjoyed writing this, give me more Draco requests pleasee (jk)

Masterlist

- Written by Owner 1

[pandorxxx]

Treat me like I’m yours (uninteresting Sequel)

Neteyam (20) x Omatikayan fem reader (19)

Warnings:SMUT THE HOUSE, pinning, spit, p in v, oral, hair pulling, rough sex, choking, degrading kink, cursing.

🔞Minors, do not interact🔞

It had been about a month since you and Neteyam…trained together. He hadn’t talked to you since that night. He’d try his best to avoid you, and when he did see you he would walk the other way. It hurt your feelings to know that you were just another one of his conquests, nothing more than a mistake to him.

Was he embarrassed to be seen with you? Scared that people would find out that he fucked the most unpopular girl in the clan? That he fucked a nobody? Manipulated you into thinking that you two would be something more?

“Y/n? Y/N!, can you snap out of your thoughts for 2 fucking seconds, and tell me which battle band looks better?” Ralu shouted, holding two bands in-front of you, waiting for you to choose.

“Ralu, I do not care. It’s MY party! Who are you trying to impress?” You asked, sitting up on your cot. Your 19th birthday celebration was tomorrow, and everyone seemed to be more excited than you were for it. Ralu rolled his eyes, and smirked before speaking.

“Bro, all the girls love it when I wear this. I need to know which color is best, don’t be annoying right now.” He laughed, raising his eyebrows at you. You sighed, bringing your cheek to the palm of your hand.

“The green one.” You pointed before standing to your feet. He smiled, looking down at the brown battle band, and then back at you.

“You’re right, the women will be going crazy over me tonight!” He nodded, trying the band on.

“I’m pretty sure they’ll go crazy no matter what you have on.” You said sarcastically, walking towards the entrance. Ralu chuckled as he watched you walk towards the hut door. He sighed, hesitating to speak.

“H-hey! Umm…Try to have a good time tonight. I know you don’t really like celebrations but this one is about you. Plus, you know father wants you to find a mate soon. It’s about that time, y/n.” Ralu explained, still gawking over his gorgeous body.

Your ears perked, and your eyes widened. Ralu was right, it was time for you to find a mate, but no man was interested in you, and the one that you thought could have been, was literally ignoring you.

“Y-yeah, I know. I’ll try to have fun tonight.” You lightly smile before continuing to walk towards the door.

“Hey where are you going anyway?” Ralu asked, finally looking back at you with his hands on his hips.

“I’m going to see Neytiri for my fitting, remember?” You turned around, smirking at him. His eyes widen in realization.

“Rightttt, right! Tell Neteyam I said to come by.” He nodded, turning back around to admire his band. Your heart dropped to your stomach at his name. You let out a nervous chuckle before nodding and heading out.

You made it to neytiri’s family hut. You hesitated to walk in, knowing that it’s a good chance that Neteyam could be in there. You couldn’t take that embarrassment, not on your birthday. You take a deep breath before pulling the tent cover back, and to your surprise, neteyam was nowhere to be found.

“Happy birthday, my love.” Neytiri smiled, walking towards you for a hug. You hugged her back, snuggling into her warm embrace.

“How is your day going?” She asked, rubbing your back as she swayed you side to side. You smiled, looking at her.

“It has been fine.” You confess. Neytiri finally lets you go, walking you over to the pieces she’s made for you.

“Just fine?” She asked, raising her eyebrow as she held the pieces towards your body. You Sigh, looking down to the ground.

“I’m just, not a party person. I do not like the attention. No one pays me any attention any other day, but because it’s my birthday, people all of the sudden know I exsist?” You explain, untying your cloths, throwing them to the side.

“I know you do not like the huge celebrations, but try to enjoy yourself, y/n. 19 is a great age to be, you know.” She smiles, tying your new top around your breasts.

“I know, I know. It just seems all fake to me.” You confess.

“Just give it a chance, y/n. You never know, you might meet a nice boy tonight. Especially with how beautiful you look.” She smiles before spinning you around towards her.

She stepped back, admiring how gorgeous you looked. The top was alittle revealing, but beautiful nonetheless. It was woven with the luminescent moss, making the top glow a bright blue. There were crystals and diamonds embroidered in the loincloth. It was short and sexy, allowing your gorgeous long legs to steal the show.

“I don’t know y/n, you might find a mate tonight. You look absolutely stunning.” She nodded, grinning at you.

“Wow…” you and neytiris head snap towards the hut entrance, revealing a speechless neteyam. He eyed you up and down, admiring your body and the beautiful cloths wrapped around it. Your eyes meet his for a moment until you look down to the ground as you desperately tried to hide your flushed cheeks. Neytiri’s eyes shift between you and Neteyam, with an all knowing smile plastered across her face.

“I-I, umm, yo-“ he stopped to chuckle at himself for being a nervous reck around you.

“You look….amazing, y/n.” He nodded proudly with a light smile. You almost gave in until you remembered how he’s been treating you lately.

“Mhmm” you hummed, not even looking at him. His heart immediately sank at your coldness towards him. He pursed his lips in anger, nodding slowly. Neytiri noticed the tension, and turned to you.

“How about I leave you two alone for a moment, ok? I’ll be back y/n.” She smiled, looking at both you and Neteyam again before walking out. Neteyam angrily slammed the door behind his mother before walking towards you.

“What is this attitude?” He asked concerned, but still visibly frustrated. You snap your head at him , almost astonished that he was acting completely oblivious to the way he has treated you lately.

“Are you serious right now?” You started, barely above a whisper. Neteyam stood straight up with his arms crossed, waiting for you to continue.

“You haven’t talked to me since that night. You have been IGNORING ME SINCE THAT NIGHT! And you think you can come in here, tell me I’m beautiful, and I’m just supposed to fall at your feet?” You shouted, gesturing angrily before walking closer to him.

“Not a fucking chance…” you whisper, poking him in his broad chest. He sighs throwing his head back before making eye contact with you.

“Y/n…you know we can’t be together. I had a moment of weakness that night, and we shouldn’t have done that. I can’t be with my best friends baby sister. Please, don’t make this hard for me.“ he explained, searching for understanding in your eyes. Your eyes widened as you backed up from him. Tears threatening to fall as you looked him up and down.

“Y/n i-“ you held your hand up to cut him off.

“No, no..” you shake your head side to side.

“I see. You’re just like everyone else. You got what you wanted out of me, and now we’re done here, right?” You ask, harshly wiping your tears away.

“You made me thinking that we would be something. That I finally found someone who understood me.” You stated, walking towards him again.

“It’s funny, you claim that you can’t be with me, but you initiated everything! You just wanted to be my first, so you could run around and tell your friends how I was for you, right?” You ask, looking up at him with a clenched jaw. He looked around frantically before looking back at you.

“Don’t speak like that.” He muttered through gritted teeth, glaring at you through his eyebrows.

“Was it not good enough for you? Is that what it is? Was I not as good as Si’rah?” You chuckle, trying to get a reaction out of him.

“Y/n, I am warning you. Stop talking now.” He said sternly, face contorting in anger.

“I’m sorry I’m not a whore like her, it was my first time. you knew that though, that’s why you wanted me right? You’re fucking sick.” You said, standing on your tippy toes, inches away from his lips.

“Enough!” He shouted, getting closer to you.

“Ohhh look at innocent little y/n! Let me see how far I can go with her! How fucking desperate do you have to be to FUCK your best-friends baby sist-“ you were cut off by neteyams hand wrapping around your neck, backing you into the wall.

“I told you not to speak like that.” He spoke, glaring at you.

“Fuck you.” You hissed, wiggling to get out of his grasp. He chuckled, bending down to your ear, grazing it with his fangs.

“You already did that. Don’t worry it was good for me, y/n, and I’d be happy to do it again. Looks like you kinda need it, you’re too uptight.” He whispered, backing up to reveal a devilish grin.

“I hate you.” You spat, tears forming in your eyes again.

“I hate you, too.” He whispered before crashing his lips into yours. You couldn’t help but melt under his touch, matching his rhythmic tone. He snaked his arms around your thighs, signaling for you to jump, as you wrapped your legs around his long torso. You two were cut off when you heard neytiri’s voice outside of the hut.

“Shit!” Neteyam whispered, placing you back down on the ground quickly. You adjust yourself, wiping your mouth quickly and so does Neteyam. He tried desperately to hide his huge bulge with his hands, before his mom walked in.

“Did you two talk it out?” Neytiri asked, walking back into the hut carrying a basket of fruits. You two looked at each other, and back to neytiri.

“Yup” you two say in unison with fake smiles. Neytiri sighed with relief, pulling the fruits out of the basket.

“Hey, ummm. My brother wanted to see you. He said to stop by.” You say, trying your best not to make eye contact with him.

“Yeah! Ok umm- i, I’ll go then.” he nodded at you and his mother before walking out, still hiding his boner with his hands.

“Hey you better get home, and get ready! You have 2 hours until the party starts.” Neytiri stated, still tending to the fruits. You nodded, thanking her for the cloths before leaving the hut.

It was 30 minutes until your party. Your mother did your hair different, taking your braids out and letting your hair be free and wavy. You had on your best jewelry, shining with every sudden move. You looked stunning, but you felt horrible.

You wanted Neteyam by your side, but he made it clear that it was just sex for him. Why would you even think that he would genuinely want you?

“My baby sister! Looking gorgeous as usual!” Ralu shouted, walking into your hut. He gripped your shoulders from behind, turning you towards him.

“Everyone is waiting for you, you ready?” He asked with a heart warming smile. You smiled at him sarcastically grabbing his hand.

“Let’s get this over with, pleaseeee!” you whine, pouting up at him. He chuckled, before letting your hand go, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, walking you towards the hut entrance.

“Just relaaaxxx, you’ll be fine, y/n” he smiled pulling you in closer.

You two finally made it to the common area. Everything was decorated so nicely, and the feast was huge. You could barely hear yourself think when everyone was shouting happy birthday to you. People who’ve walked right pass you on a regular day. All you could do was fake smile, and say thank you.

“Look at you, all grown up!” Jake smiled, walking towards you for a hug. He rubbed your back before pulling away to look at you.

“Please, sit!” He motioned towards his throne, decorated in crystals and lights. Your eyes lit up, before you looked back up at him.

“Thank you, sir!” You smiled, hugging him tightly again. He chuckled, hugging you back. He walked you to the seat, sitting you down in it.

You watched everyone having fun. Singing, dancing and eating. you were happy with how everything looked, but you couldn’t deny the overwhelming sadness when you couldn’t find Neteyam in the crowd. You were snapped back into reality by Nas’ir, one of the best young hunters in the clan.

“Hi, y/n. You look very pretty tonight.” He smiled, kneeling infront of you, as he caressed your thigh. Your body felt hot, you have never received this kind of make attention before. Your eyes widened as you looked down at his strong hand, gently massaging your thigh.

“I-Is this ok?” Nas’ir asked, searching for your consent. You nod frantically, smiling ear to ear.

You completely forgot about Neteyam in that moment. He watched from the background, getting angrier by the second from the way Nas’ir was touching you, and the way that you seemed to like it. He was sick to his stomach, watching you gawk over another man. There was even a point where you were sitting on his lap, with your legs across his fathers throne. Everyone was happy that you found a male that night, but Neteyam was utterly furious.

How could you do this to him? Letting that man caress your thigh, and whisper in your ear on HIS FATHERS THRONE???

“Hi stranger…” neteyam was immediately ripped out of his thought by Si’rahs voice. A voice that was once music to his ears, was now painfully annoying to him. He looked at her briefly and then back at you as you laughed with Nas’ir.

“Hi Si’rah.” He said annoyed. She walked up to him, feeling on his abs, and broad arms.

“What do you say we get out of here, huh?” She asked seductively grabbing his face to look towards her. He rolled his eyes, ripping her hands off of him.

“Do you ever take a break? From being a complete fucking slut.” He asked, shaking his head before walking away. Leaving her with a completely shocked look on her face. She crossed her arms, shifting her weight to one hip.

“You liked this slut last night!” She spat, tilting her head with a slight grin. Neteyam stopped in his tracks, walking back towards her. He grabbed her arm tightly, glaring at her.

“Don’t flatter yourself, I was thinking of someone else.” He snarled, looking at her with disgust before walking away.

To your surprise, you were actually having a good time. Everyone was happy, and you finally found a nice boy. Neteyam was far from your mind.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow? We can go flying on our Ikrans in the morning.” Nas’ir asked, looking deep into your eyes. He grabbed your hand, interlocking your fingers together.

“Ofcourse, I would be happy to!” You smiled, looking into his eyes, and then trailing down to his lips.

“Can I kiss you, y/n?” He asked, drawing circles into your back, as he looked you up and down. You felt him shift his hips underneath you, creating a pool between your legs. You bit your lip, before nodding quickly. He smiled leaning into you slowly.

“Y/n! A word?” Neteyam ruined the moment with his angry demeanor. You sighed loudly before looking up at Neteyam, towering over you and Na’sir.

“What?” You asked annoyed, leaning back into Nas’ir. Neteyam clenched his jaw, trying not to cause a scene infront of everyone.

“We need to talk. Get up.” He gestured for you to get up, glaring at you. You rolled your eyes, turning back to Nasir.

“Talk to me tomorrow, I’m busy right now.” You say, staring deeply into Nas’irs eyes, going in for that kiss that was ripped away seconds ago. Before your lips could touch, you were yanked out of Nasir’s lap, being dragged towards the forest.

“LET ME GOOO!” You whined as Neteyam pulled you towards the middle of the forest. He finally let you go, standing infront of you with nothing but anger in his eyes. He paced back and forth, trying to calm down.

“What the fuck were you doing with him? I mean he was all over you!” He shouted, gesturing angrily.

“What’s it to you Mr. I can’t date my best friends baby sister???” You mocked, as you watched him pace back and forth.

“Do you like him? You were sitting on his lap like you liked him! Holding his hand like you LIKED him!” He asked frantically, almost hyperventilating.

“Are you jealous, neteyam?” You ask sarcastically, grinning sadistically. He stopped pacing, running his hands through his braids roughly.

“FUCK, YES! I AM JEALOUS!” He finally confessed, breathing hard as he glared at you.

You were shocked by his sudden outburst, backing away from him slowly.

“you are all I’ve been able to think about since that night, and it is driving me crazy. But I can’t have you, and it’s killing me to see you with another man.” He explained, almost in tears.

“It is your fault! I wanted to be with you, and you just threw me away!” You started, looking him in the eyes.

“You don’t know what you want Neteyam, and that’s completely fine. But you won’t lead me on any longer. Nas’ir actually likes me, and you’re not going to ruin this for me. I WONT LET YOU!” You shouted, before turning around to walk away from him. He became so frustrated with you, growling loudly before pulling you back to him by your arm.

“Nas’ir can’t do what I do for you!” He growled, leaning down to your face, nose to nose. You look him up and down, titling your head.

“And what do you do for me?” You asked with furrowed eyebrows, looking into his angry eyes. That was enough to send him over the edge. He picked you up, pinning you to a tree.

“Well for starters” he started, turning you around, holding you to the tree by your back.

“I was your first!” He grunted, ripping your loincloth off, causing you to yelp in pain from the force.

“Secondly” he started again, bending down to your ass, spreading your cheeks open to reveal your dripping cunt.

“I gave you your first orgasm! Remember that?” He shouted before connecting his tongue with your clit, sucking it harshly. Your eyes widened as you held onto the tree to keep you up.

“You are mine, y/n!” He hummed into your cunt, making your knees buckle slightly before you regained your balance. You bit your lip as he flicked your clit with his tongue.

“Treat me like I’m yours then.” You moaned, holding the tree tightly. He stopped, standing back up. He pulled your hair, making you meet his eyes from behind.

“Open your mouth.” He commanded, untying his loincloth in the process. You obliged, and he spit slowly, creating a line from his mouth to yours. You happily swallowed, licking your lips after you were done.

“I’m gonna treat you like your mines alright. You won’t ever wanna leave.” He whispered, still looking into your upside down eyes. He finally got his loincloth off. He gripped his cock, tapping the tip on your ass.

“Are you gonna be a good little slut tonight?” He asked, kissing your forehead. You nodded with a drunken smile, waiting for him to have his way with you. He slid his cock in between your folds, making you let out a soft moan at the sudden friction. He finally slid into you slowly, letting your hair go. You instantly hugged the tree, shutting your eyes tightly at the new found fullness.

Neteyam leaned onto you, crushing you between the tree and his broad chest as he started thrusting into you slowly. You whimpered softy , biting your lip to try and suppress your moans. Neteyam leaned down to your ear, kissing it before speaking.

“No, I want you to get loud for me. Let everyone know that you belong to me.” He whispered, rubbing his head in the crook of you neck, trying to leave his scent.

“Ughhh fuck, you feel so good!” You whine, clinging to the tree for dear life. He grabbed your arms, leaning them against the tree above your head. He held them there as he watched you struggle to keep your balance.

“Remember when you said that you wouldn’t fall at my feet anymore?” He whispered, nibbling on your neck as he sped up the pace. You felt your legs giving out, and before you knew it, you were on the ground.

“Look at you now. At my fucking feet!” He growled, pulling you onto your knees by your hair. He lined his cock up to your mouth before plunging it down your throat. Your eyes rolled back as you felt your throat contract to fit his huge cock. You gaged loudly, trying to push him out of your mouth.

“No, you talk too fucking much! This should shut you up!” He grunted, thrusting into your mouth hard and deep. Tears started to roll down your cheeks. You grabbed either sides of his waist for leverage, as he showed you no mercy. Spit starting dripping out of your mouth down your chest. You felt your consciousness slipping away from the lack of air. Before you knew it, he pulled out of you mouth, letting you catch you breath.

“Don’t pass out on me, baby!” He grunted, slapping the tip onto your tongue. He looked down at your puffy face, and red teary eyes. He grabbed your head, massaging it.

“You’re ok baby, You’re ok.” He said before getting on his knees behind you, pulling your pelvis up, and pushing your head into the moss underneath you. He slowly slid into you again, making you cry out.

“No baby, you’ve gotta take it. I can’t let you get away with being such a bad girl today.” He groaned, thrusting into you deeply. He hit your spot with every stroke, sending overwhelming waves of pleasure throughout your body.

“Neteyam, please!” You beg, trying to crawl away from him, but his grip on your hips was too tight. He grabbed your arms, pinning them behind your back as he rolled his hips into you, massaging your sweetspot with his tip. Your mouth flew opened as your head went limp, falling back into the ground.

“I know, I know. Just fucking take it.” He moaned, rubbing your back, as he held your wrists with his other hand.

“Mmmmm i can’t do it, please!” You screamed, feeling that familiar knot in your stomach.

“You can and you will! You had the nerve to talk to Nas’ir? I can’t let you get away with that, y/n!” He grunted, throwing his head back, feeling his high approach him slowly.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry! It won’t happen again, neteyam!” You shouted. His ears perked up at your sudden submission.

“Oh! I’ve gotta see this.” He grunted pulling out of you. He laid back pulling your limp body on top of him. He slid his cock into you once more, making your face ball up in pleasure.

“Sit up! I wanna see you apologize.” He moaned, holding onto your waist tightly to keep you up. You held onto his broad shoulders for leverage, as he started thrusting up into you.

“Apologize.” He commanded, rolling his hips into you slowly. Your mouth flew opened, as you looked deep into his eyes.

“I’ll stop if you don’t say sorry.” He smirked, tilting his head at you. He rolled his hips into you faster, hitting your sweetspot everytime.

“I’m so sorry neteyam, it won’t happen again!” You whine, throwing your head back, rolling your hips with his, as you chased your orgasm.

“No! look at me and say it!” He grabbed the back of your head, pulling your forehead to his. He started thrusting into you fast and hard again. Your face contorted with pleasure as your eyes rolled back.

“SAY IT!” he growled, feeling his high approaching again.

“IM FUCKING SORRY! IT WONT HAPPEN AGAIN, I PROMISE YOU!” You screamed as you felt your orgasm. Your body shook violently, as you clenched around him.

He threw his head back in relief, finally feeling his high approach him. He shot his load straight up into you, letting out the loudest moan.

“Fuck yes!” He shouted as his eyes rolled back. He thrusted his seed all the way into you, making sure you caught every drop. You fell into his chest, panting loudly. He caressed your back, as he tried to catch his breath.

“Are you going to leave me again, neteyam?” You asked breathlessly, still laying on his shoulder.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson, tonight. I’ll never leave you again. I promise.” He confessed, hugging you tightly. You hugged him back before speaking.

“I’ve learned mine too.”

Bro, this long ass story🙄. Like I said, I was procrastinating the entire day, but I made the deadline😏 and that’s all that matters! As always, I love y’all🫶🏽❤️

Outtie❤️🖖🏾,

Pandorxx

[onna-musha-mari]

Under the Wisteria Tree

Giyuu Tomioka x Hashira! Reader (Gender neutral)(they/them)

Summary: Giyuu finally tells you his feelings in one of your favorite spots.

Warnings: None, pure fluff

(First time posting a fanfic…I tried y’all)

(Wisteria border by @saradika-graphics)

Giyuu stood there in silence, watching the wisteria petals fell to the earth from their branches above. There was a reason he was here, and not just to admire the scenery of the light dancing through the openings in the trees…He knew that a certain Hashira always came to this exact spot to meditate and relax. Giyuu never planned for any of this, he had never been one to dwell on emotions like this. But, here he was, waiting for that hashira who some might think took the job lightly. Sure, they goofed off sometimes, but they were an efficient fighter. It was something Giyuu lov- oh, wait, no. He might be ready to approach them, but maybe let’s take it slow…baby steps. Baby steps.

“Giyuu? I didn’t expect to see you here.”

Great, caught off guard, perfect way to start this.

Giyuu straighten his stance, now looking towards them with his usual stoic expression.

“Oh, I didn’t notice you had come up to me. My apologies.”

“No need to be sorry…may I ask why you’ve come to the Wisteria fields? I don’t blame you though, it is a very pretty spot, don’t you agree?”

And there was that flush, that feeling that went through him whenever they made conversation. He had never felt it before and yet, it felt good. Very good in fact. It was the reason he planned on telling his fellow hashira that he wished to spend more time with them. In a more…well more close relationship.

“I…merely wished to see the reason why you come here everyday…but I see why now. It is nice here.”

“It is really beautiful here”

Their eyes were fixed on the branches of the trees, while Giyuu’s were focused on the person standing next to him

“Yes…very beautiful. … Anyway, I did want to speak to you about something, important.”

“Yeah? What’s on your mind?”

He sighed before looking them in the eyes

“When we first met, I thought nothing of it. But when I first saw you caring for those girls at the butterfly mansion, then with Tanjiro and his sister. I knew something was different about you. And the more I learned about you, the more I wanted to know. You’re strong, sometimes I think stronger than most, or myself at least, because you can be a great fighter and yet still be so kind to people. I know you’re a good swordsman…but you’re also a good person.”

He looked up, taking a breath before continuing to speak.

“And not only are you strong and caring…you’re beautiful. …”

They looked at him, looking with wonder and surprise as this normally stoic swordsman laid what seemed to be his heart for them.

“I never thought of myself as a person who would ever want to focus on things like this, or did I think I’d find someone who makes me feel what you make me feel. …This is a lot harder than it was talking to Tanjiro about… what I’m trying to say here is, I would love to get to know you even more. And I would like to have a, closer relationship…if that is something you would want too?”

Moment of truth, it’s either they say yes or no. Oh what was he getting himself int-

“Yes, I would love that Giyuu, and thank you. I really didn’t know you felt that way. But, yes, I would love all of that.”

“Wait, really?”

“Really”

“oh…wow…would you mind if I held your hand?”

“Of course”

They took his hand in theirs…This was really happening. Under the Wisteria tree, Giyuu found the person he wanted to spend forever with, if fate let him. This felt, nice…really nice.

“Thank you”

They looked back at him, curious to what he meant.

“For what?”

Giyuu looked up at the Wisteria trees, once again watching the petals fall around them, the suns last rays of sunlight gleaming against the background. He picked one of the flowers and put it behind their hair before he continued.

“For giving me another reason to be strong…like you.”

[crazyoffher]

WATCHTOWER. - 3

jenna ortega x fem!reader

summary: the continuously reappearing late-night visitor carries out her goal, taking you where she knew you wanted to be.

warnings: unedited

word amount: 4,000+

a/n: i personally think this is kind of boring, so i hope you guys don’t think it is. enjoy this long chapter :) (edit: why did none of y’all tell me i forgot to add the summary 😭)

part one part two part four

“You know, when you said you wanted to ‘hang out’, I figured something like the mall. Not this!” You gawked at the building in front of you, jaw slack, and Jenna couldn’t help but laugh at your expression.

“What? You don’t like it?”

“I fucking love it, Jenna. Are you kidding? I’ve wanted to go here since I was a kid.” The two of you stood outside the Bradbury Building, an architectural landmark that you were more than interested in.

“Really? I was kind of seeing it as a hit or miss location because I didn’t know what you were into.” That was a lie. 

The night you gave Jenna your number, you guys talked from when you got home at midnight until 3 AM. It was enjoyable, to say the least, because you felt a connection with her. With an eased mind, you let her know things about yourself—nothing deep, just who you are and who you’re surrounded with, mainly.

You had a dog, Aries, that lived at your parents house because your apartment doesn’t allow pets.

You had siblings—one sister and five brothers—though two of those brothers lived out of state for college and career purposes. You were the second oldest out of all of them; your eldest brother was Christian, who was 25, and you were 23.

But then came the piece of information that was morally important to Jenna. Your last name.

Immediately after texting Jenna goodnight, she searched your name on Instagram, clicking through dozens of accounts until landing on yours. You and an unknown man together were your profile picture, whom she assumed was your brother.

It was a public account with three thousand followers and five posts on it. Your most recent post, dated back five months, showed you in your graduation gown and cap holding up your diploma.

The caption is what caught her attention, though, reading ‘Certified Architect’.

It didn’t lie, either. You did have a bachelor's degree in architecture, and not long after graduating, you applied for a job at a big-name company, and you were hired, but not for another eight months at the time because all positions were filled. That’s why you picked up the high-paying job you have now, dealing with assholes day and night, but the money was worth it.

You wouldn’t be making as much as you currently did at the restaurant as an architect, but you didn’t care. You didn’t enjoy the waitress job, and the position you applied for at the company paid well.

That’s all that led Jenna to the bright idea of bringing you to the Bradbury Building, skimming reviews for over an hour on architectural landmarks before settling on the building in front of you.

She had no idea about your lifelong interest in visiting the building, though, so she guessed it really was a hit or miss on that part. “You ready?”

“What—oh, yeah, definitely. Come on.” You held out your hand, too immersed in the building to realize your action.

You weren’t a physical person, and you disliked when the hugs friends would give you lasted longer than needed. When you came to reality and saw your hand outstretched, patiently waiting, you were startled. Your dislike for touch came in the form of consent, and you threw all of that out of the window after not taking into consideration that she might not be up for physicality with you.

Before you could retract your hand and mutter an apology, you felt her hand grasp yours.

Your arm fell to your side as Jenna started walking, pulling you along. While you walked alongside her, your face contorted into a nervous expression, and you blew out a large breath you hadn't realized you had been holding.

“Welcome to the Bradbury! Would you guys be interested in scheduling a time for a tour guide, or would you like to explore the architecture yourselves?” You hadn’t taken more than three steps inside the building before a man stopped you, tall and formally dressed. He held out two brochures, which you and Jenna took with your free arms, thanking the man before Jenna spoke up. “By ourselves is fine, thank you.”

The man smiled and walked behind the four of you, with Eddie and Bennett walking at a distance from you and Jenna. She didn’t want them there, but because they were hired for day-to-day protection, all she could do was ask them to keep their distance. They agreed. 

“What do we do here?” Jenna was a bit stumped, looking around the building to see railings, walkways, and even an elevator or two. You were more than happy to explain to her the extent of the architectural landmarks. 

“You just kind of walk around. You’re meant to take in the design, the art, and there should be informative boards on when and how the building was built as well.” You looked down at Jenna, only to see her already looking at you. You shot her a lopsided smile to acknowledge your appreciation of her thorough listening. “It’s why these places aren’t always filled, because a lot of people would find it all boring.”

She nodded profusely, signing to you that she understood, or tried to understand, all of what you were saying. “Alright, architect, tell me all you know about this place then.”

You pursed your lips, contorting them into a smile. “Gladly.”

You and Jenna walked further, and you were right; there weren’t too many people there compared to art museums or other attractions. There was a passageway boarded off, possibly for renovations, so the two of you traveled down a hall with about three other people standing around.

“Well, for it’s history, the Bradbury started being planned in 1892 by it’s owner, Lewis Bradbury, and he hired an architect, Sumner Hunt, to design the building. The original design was supposedly scrapped because Bradbury didn’t like the imagery it gave, so he hired a draftsman by the name of George Wyman. He had no education as an architect, which led people to wonder if he even changed Hunt’s designs at all and who should be credited as the building's architect.” 

“So Hunt got screwed over, basically.”

You nodded. “In credentials and work, yes. Wyman actually worked for Hunt, but I can assume that didn’t last long, you know?” You laughed, and so did she.

Jenna observed how each of your cheeks was marked with dimples and how your eyes narrowed. She was well aware of her own smitten ways toward you, but all she could do was try her hardest to brush them off. As far as she was aware, you were not interested in anything more than friendship.

“Bradbury died the same year, and the building opened a year later. As of now, it serves as the headquarters for the LAPD’s Internal Affairs Division. It’s why you can’t go up past the third stairway.”

“You seem to know a lot about it’s history.” Jenna quirked. Usually, she hated when people constantly talked; it was a major irk for her. She didn’t mind you at all. She blamed it on your smooth, slightly low voice—just a tad—and how calm you seemed when talking. 

“Whenever I have an interest in something, I like to do a lot of research on it. I enjoy figuring out the history behind it, whether it’s a landmark or even a cup,” you laughed lightly. “It’s definitely a factor in why I minored in history.”

“Minored?”

“University. I minored in history and majored in architecture. Did I never mention that?” You swore you had, but you didn’t blame yourself. It was the middle of the night when the two of you texted, letting each other know more about yourselves, and you’d be lying if you said you were fighting sleep just to talk to Jenna.

“You didn’t, but it’s really cool. I hated school a lot, but for some reason, the idea of going to university always interested me. I never had the time for it, though, especially when the opportunity came.”

“When, after graduating high school?” Jenna nodded. “I started to garner more roles around that time, and it was clear to me that I couldn’t do it even online. I don’t think I would’ve made it through four years anyway, but I just kind of wanted to know what it was like to live that sort of life, you know?”

“Definitely.” You guys reached the beginning of the staircase, with Eddie moving from behind the two of you to open a low door that was blocking the entrance. The stairs were open, and Jenna’s foot went under a stair. It would’ve left her to fall if it weren’t for her grappling onto your shirt for support. 

Your hands flew to her back, reflexes a lot quicker than her bodyguards, who didn’t comprehend that she almost fell until you had already stabilized her. “Are you alright?”

You bent down slightly, pushing the ankle of her leg and sliding her foot out from under the staircase while Bennett’s hands replaced yours on her back. You could feel Jenna let out a huge breath. “Yeah, I’m fine. Maybe a little embarrassed now.” Her cheeks were tinted pink, and her hands were fighting the urge to fly up to her face to cover herself.

“Don’t be. Stuff like that happens all the time, especially to me. It’s like I’m cursed.” You reassured her, and Jenna smiled at the idea of you falling. “Yeah, I can imagine that, and It’s kind of funny.”

“Oh, wow.” You dragged out your words, moving up the staircase with a falsely hurt and sarcastic expression on your face. Jenna followed, her hand resting on your shoulder in fear that she’d slip again. “That was pretty rude of y—oh my god.”

You walked up the last step, turning toward the wall where an engraving sat, reading something rather long and in small writing.

Jenna eyed how you darted your gaze everywhere, taking in the sight of whatever was on the wall as if it were the most precious thing you had seen in your life. “I think it’s time for another history lesson.”

“This absolute beauty,” your hands gestured to the wall, finger pads feeling over the engraved tiny-fonted words, “is the LB Treaty. It’s not actually a treaty, but people like to paint it as if it were. This is the artifact of peace that has been number one for me to see, but I never knew it was inside the Bradbury building itself.”

Still perplexed, Jenna cocked her head to the side to get a better view of it. The engravings sat in the middle of the wall, with scratches and symbols painted all over the wood. She looked at you, your brows furrowed and mouth agape in intense concentration, as if you were not sure if you were hallucinating or not. “What’s the point of it?”

You tore your fingers away from the wall, skimming over the title that read, “Lewis Bradbury Treaty of 1893,” in all capitals. "In 1892, it was discussed whether or not the Bradbury should be put up as a building of visitation, as in if people could visit the place. Bradbury argued no, but Hunt and Wyman both said yes.”

“Shouldn’t Bradbury have the upper hand since he was the owner, though?”

“Not necessarily, because Hunt and Wyman were both equally involved in the construction of the building. Even before Hunt was fired, he contributed to the location of the building as well as getting the official papers, and Wyman was important for the architecture, supposedly.” You shamelessly took a picture of the artifact, shoving your phone in your pocket and stepping back.

“They decided to solve their problem in the form of the law. They made a treaty, but before anyone could sign, Bradbury died, so Hunt forged his signature on the treaty and changed it up so the building could be accessible to all, instead of Bradbury’s plan to only make it accessible to the wealthy.”

“That’s kind of fucked.” Jenna snickered, moving along the stairwell. You took one last look at the treaty before following her, explaining to her more history on the way around as well as pointing out designs and the entire building's structure.

“Would it be too much to ask you to dinner?”

“I’m sorry?” Your ears perked, and you leant slightly closer to Jenna, unsure of what she said in her lowered voice.

She coughed, shoving her hands into her jacket pocket as the cool breeze hit the two of you while you exited the landmarks. The car rounded to the front with Bennett behind the wheel. “I was wondering if you wanted to get something to eat, as well, if you’re not busy for the rest of the night.”

Her tone was shy, almost unsure of herself, but she based it on a slight fear of rejection from you. All of it washed away when you gave her a lipped smile, opening the backseat door for her. “I’d love nothing more.”

As you entered the restaurant, you were visibly shocked at Jenna’s choice of dining. “This is, uhm,” you stumbled over your words, turning back to see Bennett arguing with the valet over car control. “I'm going to go out on a limb right now and say that this place is very expensive.”

“You’ve guessed correctly,” Jenna said as she walked away from the hostess, meeting your side on the waiting chairs and noticing your struck expression. “Sorry, I figured you’d be accustomed to places like this because you work in a Michelin-starred restaurant, but we can go somewhere else if you feel uncomfortable in-”

“It’s all good, Jenna.” You cut her off, pointing the palms of your hands in her direction to let her know that you’re fine. “I just feel a little underdressed, is all.”

You eyed your clothes from where you sat: a beige-brown shirt and black baggy jeans with black adidas as your choice of outfit. Meanwhile, all the staff and guests were all dressed in formals, button-ups, and dresses in every direction her eyes scanned.

“It’s alright.” Her hand rested on your shoulder in an attempt to ease your nerves, and your heart skipped a beat at the simple interaction. “I’ve been here a couple of times. Dressing up is just a shnack; the owners and workers could care less about how you look.”

You only nodded, standing when the hostess called Jenna’s name. Her hand still rested on your shoulder as the two of you ventured into the dining room, Eddie and Bennett resting in the car but still within eyesight of the two of you when the hostess guided you to a round table, chairs already outstretched.

You both muttered your thanks before moving to sit down, scanning the menus before giving your orders to the well-groomed man with slicked-back hair. You tried to ignore how he eyed Jenna, his gaze lingering on her, and, to top it off, a not-so-sly wink he sent her when he closed his notebook before walking away.

A busser came by soon after the waiter vanished, filling up both your cups with water before handing out complimentary champagne, ghosting over the fact Jenna wasn’t of drinking age. You watched as she examined the alcohol, her eyebrows raising at you as if she were telling you to test it first.

“Might as well take your opportunity of underage drinking while you can, yeah?” You joked before your lips met the glass, taking a light sip of the champagne, a 1959 Dom Perignon worth well over one thousand dollars.

Jenna took a sip of hers as well, humming at the caramel hints in the champagne. “To be honest with you, I’m not really hungry, but I could eat something to pass the time.” She admitted it, setting the glass down before meeting your addled eyes.

“Why did you ask me here, then?”

“Because I figured maybe you were hungry, and more-so taking this as the opportunity to get to know you more, if you’re willing to share more with me.” You nodded, setting your glass down as well. You took a sharp glance at your waiter serving another table, watching as his eyes darted to Jenna every few seconds.

“With my pleasure,” you said as you scooted your chair closer to the table, “ask me anything.”

Jenna was left in her own thoughts, thinking back to your guys’ earlier conversation about education and before that, when the two of you were texting. “How was university? High school, any form of social experience you’ve had.” She laughed at the overlapping of her own words. “I seriously can’t tell if you’re anti-social or not.”

“University had me close to ripping all of my hair out; that’s how I’ll summarize the experience.” Jenna giggled at your honesty, slowly succumbing to the fact that you had no filter when it came to your words. “It was a breeze at times. You just kind of went to the classes, did homework, and lived your life for the rest of the day until you had to repeat it. But then there are midterms and finals that have you hunched over your desk, nose in multiple textbooks, trying your absolute hardest just to get a 75% on the essay portions.”

“A 75% is passing!” Jenna argued, but you shook your head vigorously. “Not when you go to a student-competitive school with your classmates averaging 85% and higher on each test. It’s really tempting to quit at times when you see other people achieving what you worked hard for and didn’t get.”

Your voice sounded the same as earlier when you were explaining architectural history to Jenna not long ago: smooth and slightly low, intoxicating to anybody’s ears. “Yet you still hung on and got your degree.”

“Because I never fully deterred myself.” You took another sip of the champagne, maybe two, before continuing. “Whenever I felt like walking to the counselor's office and telling them that I wanted to leave, I thought about how hard I worked to get where I was and how much of my time and effort I would be wasting by just giving up because I was comparing myself to others. As long as I really keep my mindset, I think I can handle another two years, maybe even four.”

Jenna’s ears perked at the last sentence; she was not sure if she mistook your words. “What do you mean by more years?”

Before you could answer her, your rather flirtatious waiter came back around, two plates in his hands and a smaller third plate balanced off his arm. He handed the two of you your food before setting down the small plate next to Jenna’s main plate, “and a dessert, on the house, for somebody who looks so sweet.”

You grabbed a cloth that was set to the side, throwing it over your mouth and pretending to wipe something from it, but truthfully biting back the urge to laugh. The waiter winked at her once more before walking away, and it was then that you removed the cloth from your mouth, ducking your head down and trying your hardest to not laugh loudly.

“Stop it.” You felt another cloth hit your head, and you raised yourself up with your hand covering your mouth. “I’m sorry, but I had to! It was so corny.”

“Yeah, yeah.” She pushed the dessert away, taking a couple bites of her food before focusing her attention back on you, your demeanor returning to calm. “Now answer my question.”

“What—oh yeah. Um, I actually plan on going back to university soon.” Jenna’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and you presumed it was because of her food, but her words said otherwise. “You have your degree, though.”

“It’s a bachelor's, and I don’t feel like I’m truly going to get anywhere with a bachelor’s. I was thinking a master's or doctorate would get me even higher-paying and higher-role jobs, so I could try and make a name for myself. A master’s takes an extra two years; a doctorate takes an extra four.” You took a bite out of your food, giving a low hum of satisfaction while Jenna gathered your words together in her head. 

“I guess that’s fair enough, coming from me, where I’d die if I had to take more acting classes.” You almost snorted at that, your cloth flying up from your hand to wipe the grime off your mouth before swallowing your food and giving a proper laugh.

The night slowly came to an end as you finished your food, fighting Jenna for the check before ultimately deciding to go 50/50, each paying three hundred dollars for rather pricy, though well-cooked, food. She warily took a note that your waiter gave her when returning both your cards, his phone number written on it, and deciding to throw it in a trashcan outside the restaurant when the two of you headed for the car.

“Poor waiter. He’s not getting a call tonight, is he?”

“Nope.”

The drive to your place took about twenty minutes, the restaurant being on the edge of Los Angeles and therefore far from your apartment. You let out a content sigh when the car came to a halt outside the building, not ready to end your day with Jenna despite the clock nearing 10 p.m.

You asked, “So how long is it going to take me until I can hang out with you again?” On the ride home, she told you about how she had to go out of state for a while to reshoot a couple of scenes for her upcoming movie and wouldn’t be in the country for a month or so.

“When I come back, I’m going to be busier than ever because of pushed-back meetings that I’ll need to take care of, but I think I can see you one day. I might or might not stop by your work looking for a well-dressed waitress in a mentally stressed state.”

You smiled a genuine one at her, rubbing your face, which was slowly deteriorating into tiredness. “You shouldn’t have told me that, because now I can’t wait for it.”

You exited the car from the left door, Jenna from the right, and rounded the car before embracing her in a hug that she reciprocated just as heartfully as you. Her hands were around your stomach area, and your arms were resting around her shoulders.

It was already cold out, goosebumps littering your skin because you had no jacket, and the feel of Jenna’s nose brushed up against your neck, her breath hitting your skin sent shivers down your spine.

“Goodnight, Jenna.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).” And with that, Jenna got into the car that retreated out of the street, and you waltzed into your apartment lounge with nothing but post-excitement running through your blood, ready to knock out as soon as you laid on your bed.

“Welcome home, buddy.” You jumped at the voice, soon recognizing it to be Jack's, who sat on your couch with Scream 5 playing on the TV. “How was your date?”

“Hang out,” you corrected him, “and fucking awesome. I got to rant my heart out about architecture and my life. Why? Because Jenna wanted to hear about it, so suck it, you asshole.” Jack grabbed the remote, throwing it at your hip. He was the last person who ever wanted to hear you rant, plugging his ears with the tips of his fingers if you went a little overboard on explaining something.

“Alright, well, I’m going to sleep-”

“But I want to hear about your date!” He yelled out, watching you retreat into the hallway and into your room. “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow!”

Undressing into your usual nightwear, a white t-shirt and plaid shorts, it didn’t take you long to surrender yourself to sleep, only feeling the weight of your restlessness after you were away from Jenna.

A ringtone, a really annoying ringtone, was soon shut off by a hand clawing at their phone, grumbling at their sudden awakening but then it started again, and it took opening their eyes to see that it wasn’t an alarm but somebody calling them.

“Hello?”

“Jenna, why the hell are people saying that you’re now in a lesbian relationship?”

☟ ☟ ☟

hey guys 💁🏻‍♀️hope you enjoyed that and if you thought it was boring pls comment something so i can rewrite it to make it more interesting :) don’t ask me about the architecture part because i don’t know where i got it from either…

(ted mosby)

[jtl-fics]

PREV

Aaron likes FF.

He’s a good friend to have and he’s been doing Aaron a huge favor this semester by tutoring Katelyn in German. He’d tried to tutor her but his teaching style and her learning had not been very compatible and it had been leading to some fighting between the two of them. Nicky had been the one to suggest that FF was a pretty good teacher and he wouldn’t take any sort of advantage of the inherent romantic setting of being a tutor (whatever the hell that meant).

FF was a good tutor.

Aaron liked to hang out while Katelyn and FF had their tutoring sessions and FF’s gaze never strayed down from Katelyn’s face when he was talking to her. He gave her German children’s books that he himself had used to better understand the written language and Aaron quite enjoyed the nights he spent over at Katelyns where she’d clumsily make her way through them as they were winding down for bed.

There were other things to like about FF.

He liked how FF could disagree with him without fighting with him. He liked how FF had the confidence to just leave any situation he didn’t like. He liked how FF sang to himself when he was distracted (he had a pretty good voice). He liked how FF could watch horror movies without blinking. He liked how he could sit in easy silence with FF and the two of them could just do their own thing. He liked how bad FF was at video games.

He liked how FF never confused Aaron for Andrew no matter what they were wearing or if they were aiming to confuse people. FF never said how he managed it when even Matt and Nicky got them confused every once in a while but FF never failed to know which twin he was talking to. He also played along when they were going about messing with the other non-FF freshmen by vacating the area instead of alerting anyone to them having switched.

(Aaron is completely unaware of an entirely uncomfortable talk that Nicky has had with FF where he asked FF how he could tell Andrew and Aaron apart. The answer was that initially Aaron always had a very tiny pen mark on his ear somewhere because he had a habit of putting his pen behind his ear. The answer in the long run was that they stood slightly differently and Andrew had a wrinkle that Aaron didn’t. Nicky had asked why FF was looking so closely at his cousins, “Well, I thought that Andrew might swap with Aaron at some point to lure me into a false sense of security and then he’d kill me.” FF answers unaware of why Nicky went still, “I realize now that Andrew isn’t like that.” FF had rushed to assure.

“Yeah…” Nicky had said awkwardly.

“Really, I honestly don’t think Andrew would pretend to be Aaron to kill someone.” FF had said again.)

The thing Aaron probably liked the most though was how happy his cousin was to have someone who was ‘his’ person. Andrew had Kevin and Neil, Aaron had Katelyn, and now Nicky had FF. They were hardly separate from the other Foxes nowadays and they roomed with Matt but there was always a difference for their group between ‘family’ and ‘friend’. FF was someone that Nicky had claimed as family and they had all agreed.

Aaron also enjoyed watching how Andrew and Neil both couldn’t fully comprehend how FF had ended up as Nicky’s when they had both made quite a few efforts. Nicky had always just shrugged and said that they’d understand when they were older before heading off to go see FF at Abby’s house as if the rest of them weren’t following right behind him.

FF was healing nicely and would be moving back into the dorms in the next week or so but he still spent a fair bit of time in Aaron’s room. He had heard Nicky talking to Wymack about possibly having him moved into their room which Aaron wouldn’t mind even if it mean that he’d have to do the ‘Smith Shout’ more frequently.

The ‘Smith Shout’ entails walking into rooms that you thought were empty but theoretically they could also contain FF. If you didn’t mind a minor heart attack later then you didn’t need to complete the ‘Smith Shout’ but if you were perhaps…interested in making out with your beautiful girlfriend?

The ‘Smith Shout’ was a must, they were all trying to get better about the levels of hanky and panky that FF was subjected to just because they failed to realize he was right there.

FF never made a big deal about it but it always felt embarrassing when they heard the click of the door as FF left the room they were making out in.

There was no need for the ‘Smith Shout’ today as FF was helping Katelyn with some basic vocabulary and going over conversations and pronunciation with her. Aaron was sitting nearby going over some micro-biology homework when they heard a door slam open down the hall, pounding foot steps, and then their door slammed open to reveal a pale-faced Kevin

“Kevin, what-“

Kevin shushed Aaron before he could ask what was wrong and came into the room and shut the door with shaking hands. His phone was held in his right hand so tightly that his knuckles were white from the strain.

“Lord Moriyama just called me.” Kevin said shaking badly enough that Aaron wondered if he should guide the Striker over to their couch so that he could sit. “He…he let me know that he’s dropped the percentage I owe him to 65%” Kevin’s gaze slid to FF who was sat at the desks with Katelyn still. “He…he said to give you his…regards?” He says.

Aaron’s own gaze whips to FF.

“Ok.” FF says with an awkward shrug.

Aaron almost laughs at the lack of response but he holds it in unsure of how Kevin would take it.

“Kevin, it’s a good thing right?” Aaron says instead.

Kevin looks at him and nods frantically, “Yes. It’s a good thing.” He agrees. “35% makes things so much…so much easier.” Kevin says his shoulders sagging and it always bothers Aaron when he thinks about the deal that Kevin and Neil live under. He knows that Andrew has only been even listening to offers over a certain amount since he plans on helping Neil.

“I’m glad.” FF offers before turning back to Katelyn, “Ok, have you finished reading that book I gave you last week?” He asks apparently more interested in tutoring than in what Lord Moriyama had to say to Kevin.

“Oh, yes!” Katelyn agrees.

Kevin looks at them and Aaron has known Kevin long enough to recognize when he’s thinking about something. He even knows him well enough to sense when he’s thinking about something irritating.

Kevin leaves the room though so Aaron figures that it will be someone else’s problem.

He is, unfortunately, incorrect.

45 minutes later Kevin bursts into the room again and grabs Aaron, “I need your help with something.” He says, hands cold around Aaron’s wrist, and before Aaron can complain he is being dragged out of his room and into the room his brother shares with Neil and Kevin.

“Kevin, what the hell?” Aaron complains finally managing to pull himself out of Kevin’s grasp.

“I’m going to take control of Smith’s recovery.” Kevin says as if that was a normal thing to say, “Lord Moriyama wished him a speedy recovery and…and I owe him.” Kevin admits.

“You don’t need to take control of Smith’s recovery to thank him. You could just thank him?” Aaron points out the obvious answer but as per usual very few members of the Foxes were amiable to hearing the simple solutions that Aaron offered.

“No this is better. He’ll appreciate it more than just a simple thank you.” Kevin dismissed, “Now, do you think I should start with basic protein or more vitamin based smoothies for his recovery?” Kevin asks and only now does Aaron see the grocery bags of fruits, vegetables, and various other things littering the kitchen.

Why the fuck was everyone on this team so damn weird?

It was 20 minutes of Aaron trying to wrangle Kevin away from the weirdest combinations. The only thing that made him feel better was the knowledge that Josten was going to see all of these veggies and probably hiss like a vampire as he backed away from the fridge.

Still, 20 soul crushing minutes and they had a green beverage sitting in the blender that Josten had bought the room his sophomore year for Kevin. “I’ll be asking you and Katelyn for assistance on this project.” Kevin says.

“No thanks.” Aaron says exhausted from the last 20 minutes.

“Then I’ll just do it alone.” Kevin says and Aaron thinks about the various things that Kevin had wanted to put into the smoothie, thinks of FF tutoring Katelyn without asking for anything, and how FF had lied to protect Aaron’s brother even from federal agents when he had nothing to do with the mess of two years ago.

Fuck.

“Fine, I’ll help.” He grits out because he couldn’t leave FF to the nutritional whims of Kevin Day. He already feels bad enough about the drink that FF is about to be subjected to but he can at least stop Kevin from crushing actual multi-vitamins into the drinks and claiming it would make for good ‘texture’.

They come back to the room and Aaron hears Katelyn and FF talking about a new smoothie place that might be good for FF to try, “…have a peanut butter and banana one that would probably be easy on your stomach.” He hears her say unaware of the monstrosity Aaron has just had a hand in creating.

“No need for that.” Kevin says confidence unshaken and undeserved as puts a glass of green juice down in front of FF. “Drink that.” He says.

Aaron is immediately filled with a desperate desire to both apologize and slap the glass out of Kevin’s hand. Inevitable stained carpet be damned.

“Sure.” FF says as he takes hold of the glass.

It feels as Aaron watches it happen in slow motion. He sees Katelyn’s own revolted face and wishes he could tell her that this really was the best he could do in terms of saving FF. FF, unaware of Aaron’s inner turmoil, takes a sip of the green beverage full of Kale, spinach, sprouts, protein powder (plain), and some crazy Chinese health supplement that Kevin swore by but smelled vaguely alcoholic despite Kevin’s INSISTENCE that it was not.

“I know alcohol, this isn’t alcohol.” Kevin had said and honestly it was hard to argue with that logic.

FF brought it to his lips and drank it.

Aaron felt like he should have gotten a garbage bin ready but instead he watches on in horrified awe as FF drains the entire nightmarish glass.

“Cauliflower?” FF asks as he wipes the remnants of the smoothie off of his upper lip.

Aaron’s head whipped towards Kevin who was smiling as he accepted the glass back from Smith, “I’m surprised you would notice.” He says visibly pleased even as Aaron bristles.

“How the fuck did you put cauliflower in there, I was watching you.” He hisses.

“Katelyn texted you, I put it in then.” Kevin shrugs.

Aaron regrets nothing.

***

Kevin continued to hand FF bizarre healthy combinations of fruits, vegetables, and god knows what. Aaron and Katelyn did their best to keep Kevin from going too wild with his purchases but Kevin on a mission was a difficult thing to stop.

It didn’t help that FF accepted any and everything that Kevin handed to him without a single flinch. As far as Aaron knew FF didn’t even know that Kevin had decided to take control of his recovery and diet for the foreseeable future.

He had been making a run to buy Katelyn some tampons when he found FF in the stomach pain aisle looking between a two-pack or an extra large bottle of Pepto Bismol. “Smiths, if Kevin’s god awful smoothies are hurting your stomach you can just tell him.” Aaron says as he drags FF out of the aisle knowing that Pepto Bismol would not be good. “You can’t take anything with aspirin. Nicky had me read your care instructions to him in plain English I know.” He says.

FF didn’t say anything as he let himself be dragged to the register where the girl there seemed surprise that FF wasn’t buying anything. “Nothing for you?” She asks looking at FF.

FF nodded, “Nothing for me.” He agrees.

“I’m glad! You deserve it!” She says smiling as if she hadn’t just said something that felt wildly rude to say to a customer.

Aaron grabbed FF by the arm, scowled at the cashier, and dragged him out.

“They don’t hurt my stomach. I ended up there more on auto-pilot than anything.” FF says and Aaron remembers the conversation they had been having in the stomach relief section. “I think what I had yesterday was a bit too much.” He admits and Aaron rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything else.

Kevin’s nagging about their health had gotten a combination of better and worse since FF had started accepting the smoothies without comment.

Better because now Kevin had someone who he could unleash his full overbearing nature on and who didn’t seem to even care or notice just doing as Kevin ordered. Worse because now Kevin had a taste of what it was like for one of them to follow his orders.

This building irritation had lead to Josten and Andrew grabbing FF before he could be ambushed by Kevin for his usual lunch smoothie and drag him off to an off campus Deli that they both liked. Josten had probably wanted to feel just a little bit superior to the multi-lingual Freshman since it was a Russian Deli where the owner only really got what you ordered if you did it in Russian. It had happened on the day where at morning practice Kevin had implied that FF would be a better protege since he listened while Neil continued to refuse vegetables.

He could just imagine Josten offering to order for FF.

What an asshole.

He remembers coming into the room the day previous and finding them dumping the contents of a styrofoam bowl into the blender. “What is that?” Aaron had asked.

“Borscht.” Josten answered.

“Why are you putting it in a blender?” Aaron asks knowing that Josten didn’t have an ounce of social awareness.

“So Smith can eat it?” Josten said back to him slowly as if Aaron was the idiot between the two of them.

“Does Kevin know?” Aaron had asked

“Kevin can’t bitch, there’s plenty of vegetables in there.” Josten said with absolute certainty.

Kevin can, in fact, bitch.

“Andrew ordered the borscht for me.” FF says as they continue towards the dorms interrupting Aaron from his memory. “It was good, it was just too much. Like what Kevin said yesterday.” He adds.

Aaron can’t believe Josten is so opposed to ordering vegetables that he made Andrew order FF’s food for him.

What an asshole.

***

“A leash. I will find the largest child leash I can get and I will put it on you. Smithy, what the fuck.” Nicky bitches as they made their way out into the crisp December air. “I can’t believe you fell asleep and we almost left you again.” Nicky adds. “My sweet baby boy,

Aaron thinks his cousin is being over dramatic.

FF could walk back from the Fox stadium to the tower on his own just fine. He was a big boy no matter how many times Nicky claimed him to be his ‘sweet little baby boy’.

“I’m not your baby. Don’t call me that.” FF grumbles through his yawn sounding very much like a cranky little baby.

“Maybe stay awake through the game and I’ll consider it.” Nicky teases.

“The game was boring enough to play let alone just having to sit and watch.” Kevin says and it was only because Kevin had his ‘post-game’ smoothie for FF to drink that they realized he wasn’t there before they left the stadium. “We can hardly blame Smiths for falling asleep.” Kevin shrugs elated by the win but disappointed in the competition. “Drink your smoothie Smiths.” He says and FF went back to sipping at the unknown concoction, “The tart cherries and avocado should help you go to sleep when we get back to Abby's.” He says as if that combination was a natural one.

“Tart Cherries and Avocado?” Josten asks in obvious disgust.

“They’re-“

“Hey, Granny Boy!” Came a shout that interrupted Kevin’s explanation.

Usually, anything that interrupted Kevin from some going on another lecture was a good thing but Aaron, bringing up the rear, can see how FF’s posture went from relaxed to painfully alert in a matter of seconds.

“Daniel.” FF returns.

MASTERPOST FOR ALL PARTS OF FLUENT FRESHMAN AU

NEXT

[budbuddnbuddy]

𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐬𝐟𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠

Pt2

A/n: I thought of this while rotting away in bed like the loser I am, enjoy. Also tell me if yall want a pt2.

TLDR: Someone tried to kill you and your main hoes are not happy 💀

It’s stupidly funny when you think about it. Someone actually being dumb enough to try to kill you, at RAD of all places.

Though….maybe you were the dumb one, to think that you would be safe after your pact with Mammon. Sure he’s not the sharpest tool in the shed but he’s still one of the strongest demons in the Devildom, one of the strongest demons that was under your control.

That was only really made clear to you after demons, not only at RAD, stopped imitating you and talking openly about how they wanted to eat you and how Mammon started sticking by your side way more than usual. He played it off as Demon pact etiquette which was probably true now that you thought about it.

Sooner or later with each pact you made with the brothers the less Demons were actually trying or suggesting to kill you. In fact you were gaining some respect with each pact you made.

Guess when it was announced that you finally made a pact with Lucifer, you thought you had made it clear that you were of important status and finally cleared off the demons who wanted your neck slit.

Turns out they never left, they just hid and waited for the right moment.

It happened at a party at RAD, a good chunk of RAD’s students were there along with some of the friends you had made, along with the brothers, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos, and the other exchange students that were at RAD. It almost felt like a prom night.

Then gunshots were fired.

You fell onto the table of food spilled everything onto the floor, drinks, sweets, plates, bowls. Everything crumbled and broke around your limp body and everyone around you scattered.

You were out of it for a second but when your eyes finally allowed you to see, everything was shaking and blurry. It was so hard to breathe and- was that….blood?

Lights were broken and flashing on and off, people were running around and ducking under tables, you looked around to do the same and then heard a voice of a angel.

“….C! ….MC! MC!”

Literally.

You looked over to the side and saw Luke with tears in his eyes, his head peaked from under the table cloth and he waved at you to hide with him.

You didn’t want to put him in danger but that was really your only option at the moment however as soon and you lifted yourself up to crawl over, second bullet was shoot into your back.

Don’t you just have the best of luck?

You screamed in agony and people ran around more, you almost passed out again from the pain that was at the back of your head and your back itself. Muffled yells of Diavolo and Lucifer flowed into your ears and heavy stomps and running were heard from upstairs.

You settled for shuffling against the floor with the little strength you had, to get under the table with Luke, it was still hard to see but you could still tell that he had been crying, hard.

You coughed a little bit of blood, only making more tears roll down Luke’s cheeks. Everything was getting harder to see, you could hear Luke screaming at you to not die and the last thing you thought before you passed out?

‘I knew this was gonna happen.’

Lucifer

He was standing by Diavolo and Barbatos on the second floor when it happened, glancing back and forth at you every now and then.

You were only with Luke and some of your friends. None of his brothers were near you, Beel was looking for Belphie, Asmo and Satan were on the dance floor, Mammon was just finishing up a game of cards against some other demons and Leviathan was on his D.D.D in the corner.

Just as he was finishing up his conversation with Diavolo a loud gunshot was fired followed by crashing of multiple plates and bowls against the floor, his head shot back to look at where the bullet was fired at but everyone was running around and causing havoc.

When he finally looked down his face twisted into horror as his eyes laid upon you with the back of your head blown out, slumped over a bunch foods and liquids from the food table.

He screamed your name and directed Diavolos and Barbatos attention towards your unconscious body.

He searched in desperation for your attacker but was only met with screams of demons and crowds of people pushing each other for safety.

He did some pushing himself until he finally witnessed the man responsible for lodging a bullet in your head put another one in your back.

Lucifer shouted at him in rage and sprinted toward him Diavolo followed and the man made a break for it.

They followed him through crowds of demons however as soon as they saw who they were chasing the ran in the opposite direction giving them more space to run freely at the man.

He was getting faster and Diavolo and Lucifer had to go into their demonic forms to catch up with him but just as they did Beel stepped out of the room in confusion and Lucifer yelled at him.

“Beel! Stop him!!! Put him to the ground!”

He almost didn’t have to say anything because as soon as Beel laid eyes on him, he already had him in a armlock onto the floor.

With your attacker restrained by Beel, Lucifer sped downstairs to look for you, he cried out for you twice before he was waved over by mammon from under a table.

He threw the table out of the way and there he was met with the sight of your unconscious body laid over Mammon and Luke who were both crying over you.

He was about to scream at someone to call a ambulance but when the sirens were heard from outside he picked you up and rushed you out with Mammon and Luke following behind him.

When you woke up in the hospital he was already shushing you back to sleep, it had taken 4 days but you were back and that’s all he need to know for now.

Only the best Doctors and nurses in the Devildom would be at your aid, only the very best for his human.

Mammon

He was just about to go talk to you, he was almost done with this game, just one last move and he’ll collect all the money he won, show off to you, impress you, then marry you-

His a opponent just placed down a card when the first bullet ran through the back of your head. He turned over to make sure you were okay but be screamed as soon as he witnessed you tumble over the buffet table and bring everything on it crashing onto the floor.

He dashed towards you, just in time before demons started running around in fear. He pulled you out of the mess you were in and teared up at the sight of you.

He attempted to shake you wake but eventually the crowd of demons swam through the two of you and pulled mammon far away enough from you to the point where he couldn’t even remember were you were at.

He ducked from under table after table attempting to make his way back to you. Then the second shot came and he flinched causing him to be swept away by the crowd of running demons a second time however he was lucky enough for it to be brought right towards you and Luke.

He found you passed out with your head in Luke’s lap, he was hugging your head tightly and crying over you. He looked at Mammon in desperation and begged for him to help you.

“Pluh-Please! *Hic*Don’t let them die! Help them, Mammon! Please don’t let them die! Please!!”

He tore up his jacket to use as a make shift badge for the wound on your head, he was just about to destroy the rest of it up, but he heard Lucifer shouting your name and peaked from underneath the table to call him over.

He ran after Lucifer to bring you over to the ambulance and took Luke with him, probably what you would’ve wanted anyway, and rode with him all the way to the hospital.

He was there for the surgery they did, stayed there from the beginning until the end. When you were in your short coma he stayed at the hospital, even slept there right beside you.

He did everything he could to help you get better, only time he was away from you was when he took a shower.

Leviathan brought extra clothes for him and stayed along with him towards the end of your stay at the hospital, something he’s extremely grateful for.

He was right there when you opened your eyes, he was staring down at you when it happened and he became teary eyed when you looked up at him.

“You’re…..alive. Oh fuck you’re alive..!”

He slammed down onto the call button for the nurse and pressed a long kiss against your lips.

Mammon became your personal nurse at home and helped you get back on your feet when you were discharged. He’s so bbg

Leviathan

Now y’all already know that parties were never Levi’s thing.

However this particular event required him to be there plus you were gonna be there too so he really didn’t have a choice in the matter.

He couldn’t dance nor could he just walk up and start a conversation with people so he just settled on gaming on his D.D.D until you were available to drag away for an hour or two.

He was starting to get needy for your attention, when he looked up the only person that was by you was Luke.

Then the back of your head was blown out.

He froze in shock and fear as he watched as people scramble away from you when you fell onto the buffet table.

Guns in the Devildom were extremely dangerous, the soul purpose of them was to kill and if you had one, you were definitely trying to kill someone.

The bullet was lodged in the back of your head and knocked you out instantly meaning only two things 1. You were already dead 2. There was a limited amount of time before you would die.

Soon as that information registered into his brain and he saw that Mammon gotten to you, he dashed into the bathroom and called for ambulance, he told them all about the situation how you had been shot in the back of the head and you needed help immediately.

*BANG*

He flinched as he headed a second gunshot and his eyes widened when he heard your scream of agony.

This time he didn’t hesitate to tell the operator that you were shot once again.

He was still in the bathroom when Lucifer was yelling downstairs for you but he stayed just in case to be safe.

After about 5 minutes he left to go outside and was met with Lucifer and Mammon in the ambulance closing the doors and driving off.

He got the news that you were in the hospital and you were in a coma a day after your surgery. You were stable thankfully.

He just stayed in your room for most of the time, cleaning and setting up your room with Satan, going grocery shopping to make sure you had all your favorite foods and snacks at home, he even did your laundry!

Mammon was still at the hospital with you so he brought some clothes and some food for him over to the hospital and stayed there for the rest of the time.

When you finally woke up, he was just walking back from the bathroom and Mammon yelled for him to get over there.

“They’re awake! Levi, they’re back and they’re alive!”

He hugged your stomach and cried into your chest for a long long time.

When you were finally discharged he and Satan presented you with your favorite meal in bed then gamed and read to you to keep you company. bbg #2

[bookyeom]

Hallo Leslie!! I finally had a free brain moment to look through your prompt ideas, and if you’re still open to requests, how about # 61 + 90 from the second list?

Hope your week is off to a good start!

A/N: I'm so sorry these prompts took 800 years to get written, but here we are. This one may or may not be inspired by Wait (it 100% is inspired by Wait). Enjoy!!

Please Don't Tell Me Wait

Pairing: Dino x Reader Genre: idiots to lovers, friends to lovers Rating: PG (because of the kissing ig?) Word Count: 2.3k Request Prompt: "you can tell me anything." Warnings: kissing, Lee Chan as a general warning

YN: I’ll kill you, Boo Seungkwan. I will

Boo: why? 😇

YN: What could possibly be so important that you ‘suddenly’ need to go to the mall all the way across town immediately, bring Vernon, Soonyoung and Mingyu with you, and cancel on movie night?? When Chan is already almost here?

Boo: giving you and Channie some alone time 🙂

You gape down at your phone. 

YN: you’re shameless. Evil and vile. Canceled. 

Boo: I think you misspelled thank you? 

Your next raging text is lost mid-type as your doorbell rings, and you straighten up in your seat. You have a quick internal debate with yourself about whether or not you should answer, but then you think about how sad Lee Chan would be if you didn’t open the door, and you find yourself moving without any more thought. Whipped, comes the unhelpful thought.

As soon as you open the door, you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut. Your breath catches just at the sight of him, wearing his favourite grey hoodie and a smile, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen anyone more breathtaking in your life. “Hi,” he says, and you want so badly to ignore the way everything around you feels a little bit brighter just at the sound of his voice. You are in so deep.

You let him in and he quickly makes himself at home. It isn’t the first time your friends have plotted to get the two of you alone, but it is the first time it’s been in such an intimate setting. Chan’s been over to your place so many times before, but always with one of the boys in tow. You hate how nervous you feel.

You’re nervous because you like him. When Seungkwan found out last month, pretty soon everyone within earshot knew, too. Somehow – and you thanked the stars for this – Chan didn’t seem to have a clue. 

One thing about your friend Chan: he was pretty oblivious, for the most part. You knew so many people who would kill for a chance with him, but he didn’t seem to notice or even care. He flirted with you – that much was clear. You weren’t naive. But he’d never once seemed to mean anything more than friendly banter, because that’s just who he is, so here you were. Pining unrequitedly after one of your friends, with your other friends desperately trying to push the two of you together. It was frustrating at best.

You can make it through this night. You always have fun with Chan, and talking to him is easy enough when you aren't thinking too much. You have similar taste in movies and snacks, he’s funny, he's a good listener… the list is endless. You like being around him. You can do this.

You manage to act relatively normal as the two of you get settled for the movie, even as Chan makes a joke about the guys ditching, even as you almost physically jump back when he hands you the popcorn bowl to carry into the living room, and your fingers brush. You’re fine, up until the moment you’re sitting on your couch with snacks at the ready, a semi-breathable distance between the two of you, and he decides to speak up.

“Can I tell you something?”

“You can tell me anything.” You answer without hesitation, because it’s true. 

“Well…” He pauses, and you meet his gaze with a raised eyebrow when he doesn’t continue. As soon as your eyes are on him and away from the TV, his lips turn upward and he says, “I think you look really pretty tonight.”

Your eyes widen, and you nearly drop the remote. You watch as the corner of his mouth lifts up even further into a smile, and you can tell he’s pleased with himself. He raises his eyebrows, waiting for a response, but you don’t have one. Your mind wants to ask it, wants desperately to just blurt out the question — is this a date? Are we on a fucking date right now? — but you refrain. 

“Chan,” is what you say instead, with a roll of your eyes as you hold out the remote for him to take. You know the effect his words have had on you is obvious with the way you’re reacting, but you can only pray that he doesn’t comment on it. “Just pick a movie.”

You would almost think he meant his words if he’d ever actually tried to take his flirtatious remarks any deeper, but he never does. It’s been months of this. It’s not that he’s mean, you know he’s not — you just think he doesn’t have a clue that you might actually like him. 

“I mean what I said.” 

You’re startled from your thoughts when Chan speaks again, and you realize that he definitely hasn’t moved to take the remote from your outstretched hand. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of you, either. 

You slowly lower the remote back down to your lap. “Have you been taking lessons from Mingyu again on how to flirt?” 

You watch as he leans forward slightly, that stupid, soft, teasing smile on his mouth yet again, and he asks, “Why, are they finally starting to work on you?”

You blink, staring back at him as all thoughts swiftly leave you. Your breath catches as his eyes wander across your face, and your own gaze can’t help but find his mouth. 

“Maybe,” is what comes out before you can stop it. 

Chan seems surprised for a second too, before he rights himself again. “Well,” he says slowly, “like I said... I meant every single word.”

His fingers gently pry the remote from your hand, eyes never leaving yours. He moves closer and closer, judging your every reaction, watching for any hesitation. He finds none. You let him draw you in, your back falling against the armrest and then he’s above you, his hands braced on the couch on either side. He’s gazing down at you so intently that you think you forget how to breathe. 

“How do I know that you mean it?” Your voice is quiet, uncertain. You know that you want this, that you want him, but you’re terrified that he doesn’t mean it in the same way as you.

“I can show you,” he returns, as serious as you’ve ever seen him, and you can’t stop your gaze from falling to his mouth. He takes that as a sign. And when he leans down, nose gently brushing against yours as he waits for permission, it’s you that closes the gap first. 

You kiss him, soft and hesitant. He responds almost immediately, pushing back against your mouth, a hum coming from somewhere deep in his chest. Like he’s been waiting. The thought makes your toes curl. Your hands find his waist, pulling him down to you as far as he can go, and you can feel him laugh against your mouth before he’s kissing you again, over and over, until you can’t think or feel anything but him.

You’ve never been kissed like this. 

He breaks the kiss first, his forehead falling to yours as he catches his breath. You’re both silent for a moment as you process, and you can feel your heart pounding against your ribcage. 

“Chan,” you finally say, voice quiet, your grip on the back of his shirt tightening.

“Yeah?” He mirrors your hushed tone, pulling away so he can look at you. He sounds breathless, and it makes you feel even dizzier. 

“I…” You trail off. You squeeze your eyes shut in a feeble attempt to lessen the effect of his gaze on you like this, but it’s futile. The look on his face, the one that you’d sworn to yourself all these months meant nothing, is permanently etched into the back of your eyelids now.

He doesn’t move at all as he waits, giving you time. The heat of him so close, his entire body pressed to yours, is so intimate, so overwhelming. You can feel him everywhere, can feel every breath he takes, and you wonder if he can feel your heart ready to burst out of your chest.

“Chan,” you finally speak again, voice barely a whisper. “If you don’t…”

His eyebrows furrow; you can tell he wants to speak, but he doesn’t. 

“If you don’t mean this,” you try again, your eyes still squeezed shut. “If this isn’t serious for you, then I can’t do it. I’m sorry.”

It’s silent, and your heart slowly sinks into the couch beneath you. 

Then he’s gently pushing himself off of and away from you. The feeling of disappointment quickly claws its way up into your throat, robbing the air from your lungs along the way. You sit up too, keeping as much distance between you as possible. Your eyes stay trained on your hands in your lap — you can’t look at him for even a second.

“Y/N.”

You feel your eyes begin to water in spite of yourself. Stop, stop, stop. 

“Y/N,” he repeats, voice soft, “I need you to look at me.”

You take a deep breath, feeling your lower lip quiver. You steady yourself before meeting his eyes, straightening your shoulders.

“Do you really not know how much I like you?”

You weren’t expecting that. The question hangs in the air as you blink back at him. “You—“

“I’ve liked you for so long… since that night when you were the only one who laughed at my joke at Soonyoung’s party.”

Your mouth falls open as you think back to that night — you know the very one. The same night that you finally learned his name — the name of the cute new guy your friends had been bringing around. That was ages ago.

“Oh.”

A few more beats of silence pass by until he speaks again.

“How could you possibly think I’m not into you? I don’t think I’ve ever been more obvious about something in my life.” He laughs nervously, running a hand through his hair. 

Your heart is beating triple time as you search for your words. “We’ve known each other for six months, and you never said anything.”

“Neither did you.” He raises his eyebrows in a challenge, daring you to disagree with him, but the smile on his lips gives him away.

“You have so many friends,” you say quietly after a moment, and you watch as Chan’s face softens. “I just assumed you treated them the same way you treat me.”

“I don’t,” he says softly, “but I can see why you might have thought that.”

“So many people flirt with you. All the time.” You don’t know why you’re continuing to state these things — you blame it on the fact that you absolutely cannot process that he just told you he likes you — but Chan just takes your words as they come. 

“I barely notice… especially when you’re there.” He bites his lip, tilting his head as he looks at you. “And people flirt with you too, you know.”

You let out a laugh at that, looking down at your hands. “I know.”

“But you didn’t know that I was flirting with you?” Chan asks incredulously, throwing his head back with a groan. You can tell he’s joking, and you can’t help the smile that passes over your lips now, too. 

“I did know,” you offer, and Chan sits up straight to look at you again. You continue before he can protest. “But I didn’t know if it was serious for you. And for me…” You stop yourself before you admit what you were about to, feeling your cheeks flush. 

For me, it’s serious.

“For you?” He prompts you to go on, and you can tell he’s trying desperately to hold back a grin, because he knows exactly what you were going to say. You let out a whine. 

“Stop.” 

He laughs. Then your heart leaps into your throat once more, because he’s reaching across the distance between you, finding your hand and pulling it back into his lap. “I’ll say it loud and clear so there are no misunderstandings,” he begins, thumb tracing lazy lines on the back of your hand, “I like you… seriously.” 

You know he’s teasing you again, but you can’t find it in you to care when you know he’s being honest. Your eyes fall to your entwined hands, mesmerized by his gentle movements against your skin, your heart near ready to jump out of your chest at the softness of it all.

“So…”

You look back up to find him bashful as he speaks, and it’s his turn to avoid your eyes as he chews on his lower lip. You suddenly realize what you think he’s waiting for, and you smile. 

“I like you a lot too,” you say, and when his gaze snaps to yours, you know you’ve said what he needed to hear. He smiles then, cheeks flushed and happy, and you’re enthralled by how shy he’s being when he had just been kissing you into oblivion moments prior. 

“Good.”

You beam at him, and he beams back, before he’s pulling you closer by your joined hands and into a hug. You curl up into his side, your head finding a place in the crook of his neck. 

“Y/N?” You glance up, heart stuttering a bit at the sight of him so close as you wait for him to continue. “For the record, in case you were still worried – I absolutely do not spend time with anyone else trying to ignore the way their lips move when they talk. That’s Y/N privilege.”

“Not even Soonyoung?” 

He’s kissing you almost before you get the teasing words out.

A/N: please please please reblog if you liked! it's what us writers rely on :)

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