#and the occasional non-chat chapter

[wow-an-unfunny-joke]

Would anybody be interested in my BSD Highschool Au? I'm planning on writing a fic for it, but rn I'm just trying to work out all the smaller details (like figuring out normal names for the Flags and also how tf soccer works)

It's an au where they all still have abilities and go to a high school specifically for kids with abilities. I think it's neat!

[97linelover]

The Idol‘s Encore - Choi Seungcheol

summary: meeting an idol was crazy enough, but getting close to him,makes it all even crazier.

content: Idol scoups x non Idol reader, fight,angst, sad end,fluff,smut, drama, heartbreak I’m sorrryyyy

wc: 1.5 k

a/n: I really think that’s how it goes. Dating in this business? Hard.

Lollapalooza was unreal and Cheol looked so so so good!!!

As you navigated through the bustling stadium, weaving through the throngs of fans, you followed closely behind your best friend, who was practically sprinting toward the stage. The entire place was alive with energy, people running and shouting, excitement buzzing in the air like an electric current. The fanbase was wild, and it was barely 11 a.m.

You somehow made it to the barricade, squeezing through the sea of people — all of this, for her. The things you did for your best friend. The heat was intense, the sun already blazing down, and there were no clouds to offer any relief.

Your best friend, always the social butterfly, was already chatting animatedly with a few others nearby. They were all Carats, all equally thrilled to be there. You stood beside her, nodding along, but truthfully, you were just hoping the time would pass quickly. Concerts weren’t really your thing, and although you liked the occasional song, this wasn't your scene.

But to your surprise, the crowd was lively yet well-behaved, and time seemed to move faster than you expected. The acts were fantastic — energetic, polished, and engaging. The organization was impeccable too. Staff moved through the crowd, offering free water and ice cream to keep everyone cool under the scorching sun. It was a thoughtful gesture, and it made the heat more bearable.

As the opening notes of the music filled the air, the crowd exploded into cheers and screams. Fans around you were losing their minds, singing along at the top of their lungs. You couldn’t help but laugh softly to yourself, amused by their enthusiasm. You weren’t as familiar with the songs, only knowing a handful of them, but there was one person on stage that you knew all too well.

Choi Seungcheol.

He commanded the stage effortlessly. His sleeveless shirt clung to his toned arms, revealing his muscles as he moved. The way he looked out over the crowd, scanning it with an intensity that seemed purposeful, sent a small shiver down your spine. His eyes swept over hundreds of faces, and then, as if by fate, they found yours.

The instant his gaze locked onto you, you saw something change in his expression. His eyes brightened, and for a moment, it felt like time slowed down. He started to make his way down from the stage, stepping right up to the barricade — right in front of you.

He sang directly to you, his voice rich and powerful, never breaking eye contact. The fans around you screamed louder, sensing something special in the moment, but you barely noticed them. It was like the world had shrunk down to just the two of you.

He had found you. And you knew exactly what that meant.

Tonight, at 10 p.m., you would meet him at the park near his hotel.

But how had all this happened?

It started just a few days ago. Your sister had been at a K-pop party that Saturday night while you had decided to wander around Berlin. You’d had a craving for donuts and hot chocolate, so you found yourself in a quaint little café, settling down with your book. The smell of fresh pastries filled the air, and marshmallows floated in your steaming cup of hot chocolate as you opened the first chapter.

The bell above the café door jingled softly, and you glanced up to see a tall, handsome man walk in. You tried to refocus on your book, not wanting to be rude, but you couldn’t help overhearing the interaction at the counter. The cashier was struggling with English, and it was clear the man didn’t speak German.

With a sigh, you closed your book and stood up, walking over to the counter. “What do you want? I can order it in German for you,” you said with a small smile.

He looked relieved, smiling back at you. “I was just trying to order a water.”

“A water? Do you know it’s basically a rule to drink hot chocolate at this time of night?” you teased, laughing a little.

“I’m on a strict diet,” he said, pouting slightly.

“Not tonight,” you grinned. “I’m ordering you a hot chocolate. No arguments.”

He chuckled but didn’t resist. “If you insist.”

After placing the order, you paid for his drink and a donut, feeling a bit mischievous. As you turned back to him, you introduced yourself. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“I’m Seungcheol,” he replied, and your eyes widened in recognition.

Of course — the handsome stranger, the strict diet — it was your sister’s bias, Choi Seungcheol.

“You know who I am, don’t you?” he asked softly, a hint of something like disappointment in his voice.

You nodded. “Yeah, my sister’s a fan. We’re actually here for your concert.” You took a sip of your hot chocolate, trying to keep things casual.

“And you?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “Are you a fan too?”

You shook your head with a smile. “Not exactly. I’m just here for my sister. I know a few of your songs, but I’m not a big fan.”

His grin widened. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. At least you’ve heard of us.” He took a bite of the donut and sighed dramatically. “This is going to cost me an extra mile on my run tomorrow.”

You laughed. “Don’t stress about it. One donut won’t ruin you.”

Seungcheol looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “You know, we’re always filmed from every angle. It messes with your mind sometimes, seeing all these sides of yourself that you don’t like.”

“I don’t think you have any bad sides,” you said, half-joking but also flirtatious, and he chuckled, wiggling his eyebrows.

“You think I’m good-looking?” he teased.

“As if you don’t already know that, Seungcheol,” you retorted, standing up to grab your bag.

“Leaving already?” he asked, quickly getting to his feet to follow you.

“I was planning on walking around a bit more. You’re welcome to join me if you want.”

He didn’t hesitate, and the two of you spent the rest of the night wandering through the quiet streets of Berlin. Time flew by as you talked, eventually finding yourselves at a small playground, where you lay side by side on the swings, gazing up at the stars.

“Will you be at the show tomorrow?” he asked softly, turning his head to look at you.

You nodded. “I’ll be there with my sister. She wants to be up front, so I guess I’ll be at the barricade.”

His eyes darkened with a playful intensity. “So, you’ll be watching me from up close, huh?” His hand gently brushed your cheek, sending a shiver down your spine. “I’ll make you a deal. If I find you in the crowd tomorrow, we’ll meet here again at 10 p.m., and... I’ll get my kiss.”

You gasped, cheeks flushing. “You want that kiss so badly?”

“You have no idea,” he murmured, and you found yourself nodding.

“Deal.”

Now, just a few hours after the concert, you sat on the swing at the playground, replaying concert videos on your phone. He was half an hour late.

With a sigh, you put your phone away, feeling a sinking disappointment. Of course, you’d been foolish to think this could be real. Seungcheol was an idol — why would he be interested in someone like you?

As you walked away, you muttered under your breath, “Stupid. Stupid boys, stupid me.”

You were halfway back to the hotel when you felt a hand grab your arm, pulling you into the shadows. “I’m so sorry,” a familiar deep voice said.

You looked up, heart pounding. “Seungcheol?”

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered. “We got held up with interviews, and when I finally got to the playground, you were gone. I had to find you.”

“I thought you played me,” you admitted softly, trying to hide the hurt.

“Never,” he said firmly. “I wanted to see you more than anything.”

You leaned closer to him, whispering, “Did anyone follow you?” He shook his head, his expression soft yet intense.

Without another word, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. The moment his hands pulled you closer, your heart raced, and your mind went quiet. His lips moved in perfect rhythm with yours, and the world around you seemed to disappear. That kiss—it made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t before.

He pulled away just enough to whisper against your lips, “Do you want to come upstairs? Fans could show up any minute now.”

You nodded, breathless. “Sure.”

You followed him through the quiet corridors, the space between you feeling like too much. The air was thick with tension and anticipation, every step increasing your need to be close to him again.

The door to his room had barely closed behind you before he had you against the wall, his hands exploring, his lips on yours again, more urgent this time. Every touch was electrifying, every kiss deepened the connection between you. It wasn’t just physical—it was intense, overwhelming, and all-consuming.

Time blurred as you spent the night tangled together, losing yourselves in each other. Moments of tenderness and passion intertwined as you explored each other’s bodies, finding new ways to make each other smile, gasp, and laugh. The intimacy was raw, yet filled with affection. By the time Seungcheol finally fell asleep, he was wrapped around you, his breathing soft and steady as he rested his head against your chest.

You lay there, your hand gently stroking his hair, your heart still racing from everything that had just happened. It wasn’t just about the physical connection—it was the unexpected bond that had formed between the two of you.

As the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, you stirred awake. Seungcheol was still asleep, his arms wrapped tightly around you, his breathing slow and peaceful. For a moment, everything felt perfect—like a dream you never wanted to end.

But as you lay there, reality started to creep in. The world outside this room was different, harsher. Seungcheol wasn’t just any man; he was an idol, adored by millions. And you… you were just a girl from Germany, someone who had stumbled into his life by accident.

You sighed softly, careful not to wake him. It was easy to get lost in the fantasy here, in the quiet intimacy of the early morning, but what would happen when you left this room? He had a life in South Korea—a public, highly scrutinized life. And you? You had your life in Germany, far away from the spotlight and the complexities of fame.

Seungcheol stirred beside you, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He smiled sleepily, pulling you closer. “Good morning,” he whispered, his voice still heavy with sleep.

You smiled back, but the weight in your chest only grew heavier. "Good morning."

For a moment, you stayed there, wrapped in each other, neither wanting to face the inevitable. But as much as you wanted to stay in this perfect moment forever, you knew the conversation couldn’t wait.

“We need to talk,” you said softly, pulling back just enough to look him in the eyes.

Seungcheol frowned slightly, sensing the seriousness in your tone. “What’s wrong?”

You bit your lip, unsure of how to start. “This… last night, it was incredible. But you know we can’t keep this up, right? You’re an idol, Seungcheol. You live in Korea. And I… I’m just a girl from Germany.”

He sat up, his expression darkening. “What are you saying? That last night didn’t mean anything?”

“No, it meant everything,” you quickly reassured him. “That’s the problem. It meant too much. But you and I… we live in two different worlds. How can we possibly make this work? We just met, you don’t know me and I don’t know you“

Seungcheol ran a hand through his hair, frustration building in his eyes. “I don’t care about the distance. I don’t care about what anyone else thinks. I want to be with you.”

Tears stung your eyes as you shook your head. “But it’s not just about us, is it? You know how it is for idols. The fans, the media… if they found out, it would destroy you. It would ruin everything you’ve worked for.”

He clenched his fists, his jaw tightening. “I don’t care about any of that. I’ve spent my whole life doing what’s expected of me. For once, I want to do what I want.”

“But at what cost?” you asked, your voice breaking. “Do you really want to throw everything away for me? For someone who lives on the other side of the world?”

Silence hung between you, thick and suffocating. Seungcheol’s eyes softened, the fight draining out of him as the reality of your words sank in.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. And it’s funny because we just met, but we talked about things nobody knows.“

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you reached out, cupping his face in your hands. “I don’t want to lose you either. But we have to be realistic. We can’t be together… not like this.”

He closed his eyes, leaning into your touch. For a moment, you stayed like that, holding onto each other as if you could stop the inevitable from happening. But deep down, you both knew the truth.

With a heavy heart, you pulled away, grabbing your clothes and getting dressed in silence. Seungcheol didn’t stop you. He simply sat there, watching as you prepared to leave, his face a mask of heartbreak.

Before you left, you turned to him one last time. “Maybe one day things will be different. But for now… this is goodbye.”

His eyes were glossy, but he nodded, understanding that there was nothing more to say. "Goodbye, Y/N."

And with that, you left the room, your heart breaking with every step. As you walked down the hotel corridor, you realized that some love stories don’t have happy endings—not because they aren’t real, but because the world isn’t ready for them.

Seungcheol would always be a part of you, a memory tucked away in your heart. But your worlds were too different, the distance too great. And no matter how much you wished otherwise, some things were just not meant to be.

Seungcheol would just be a beautiful memory tucked away with he thought about lollapalooza 2024.

[awkward-imaginations]

| First Impressions |

tetsuro kuroo x f!reader

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he noticed you sitting with Kenma, happily playing video games together. Intrigued by how close you and Kenma seemed, Kuroo asked about you on their walk home. Kenma described you as a fellow gamer and new student at Nekoma High. Kuroo's curiosity grew so he decided to introduce himself.

warnings/notes: highschool romance, fluff (maybe suggestive?), slight angst, I do NOT write fanfictions or storys normally, this is a first, so I am generally sorry for everything. CRINGE. def will be cringe in some parts. I'm a big sucker for Kuroo, him and Kenma may be ooc but I don't care this is my story and I just need to get it out of my head so I can finally write my Master's Thesis in peace. Also, english is not my first language. This has been "proofread" by my friends (who are also non-native speakers, lmao). If you find any mistakes, you can keep them.

word count: 1784

masterlist | next chapter

The first time Kuroo saw you was when he walked past your classroom. You were sitting across from Kenma at his table, happily chatting and playing on some sort of portable console. Your laughter was soft but infectious, causing Kenma to occasionally glance up from his game with a rare smile.

"She must be the new student Kenma was talking about," Kuroo thought as he paused to watch for a moment. He would have been lying if he said he wasn’t surprised when Kenma mentioned he had made a friend on the first day of the new school year. Kenma didn’t share much about you, but Kuroo knew you had transferred to Nekoma High in the second year because your father had a new job, prompting your family to move to Tokyo. He also knew you liked video games and were a bit of a recluse at times. However, discovering you were a pretty girl was news to him.

Naturally, he brought it up with Kenma on their way home. “So, why didn’t you tell me your new classmate is a girl?” Kuroo asked, intrigued. Kenma looked at him, puzzled. “Does it matter? Besides, I had a feeling you'd be annoying about it.” Kuroo feigned shock, placing a hand dramatically on his chest. “What? Me? Annoying?!” Kenma rolled his eyes. “You're exaggerating.” Kuroo couldn’t help but smile. “Oh, you think so?”

They continued walking but were suddenly startled by the sound of a ringing bell. Kuroo turned around to see you riding past them on a bicycle. “See you tomorrow, Kenma!” you called out with a beaming smile, waving to him. Kenma raised his hand briefly and nodded. “See you tomorrow,” he said quietly in return.

Kuroo watched you with growing curiosity as you rode away. He couldn’t help but stare a bit. Your hair blew gently in the wind, and you seemed to be in your own little bubble of happiness.

“Looks like she’s really nice,” he remarked, still looking after you. Kenma shrugged. “Yeah, she’s all right. Someone who loves games as much as she does can’t be too bad.” Kuroo grinned mischievously. “Oh, is that so? Maybe I should talk to her sometime.” Kenma sighed. “Do what you want but remember she’s new. She might need some time to adjust to everything.” Kuroo nodded with a smirk. “Sure, I’ll be nice.”

 “Ah, not too hot and not too cold,” you said as you sank down next to Kenma on the bench outside the next day. He grinned and held out a bottle of green iced tea from the vending machine. “Yeah.” You thanked him and took a sip before returning to your Chemistry Book. “I really don't know why you're still doing school stuff during break,” Kenma remarked, switching on his console. “My dad bagged my PSP last night because I was playing for too long. Sorry, dad, but time travel is basically cheating, and I didn't want to miss an event.” Kenma had to stifle his laughter while you looked at him with an offended pout.

For a while, you sat next to each other in silence, reading, playing and occasionally taking a sip of iced tea. After a few minutes, the conversations in the schoolyard became a vague background noise. The letters blurred before your eyes as you began to lose yourself in your thoughts. Since the end of school yesterday, you couldn't stop thinking about the student Kenma shared the walk home with. Even in the brief moment you passed the two of them, you realized how incredibly familiar they seemed with each other (an how attractive Kenmas friend was), why didn't they spend time together during breaks? Was Kenma just hanging out with you out of pity because you were the new girl?

Before your thoughts could spiral any further into a negative direction, they were interrupted by Kenma's voice. “Is everything alright?” You turned your head directly in his direction, his gaze fixed on the screen of his PSP. He noticed you not saying anything and continued, “I haven't heard you turn a page for a while and thought you might need some help.“ You blinked a few times into space. “Um, yeah. No. Actually... I must've spaced out; I wasn't really thinking about anything.” Except your cute friend. Disbelieving, Kenma looked up from his console briefly. You felt your cheeks heat up at the lie you just told and quickly returned to staring at your book, which you lifted a little to hide your face. “Right,” Kenma finally said and returned to his game.

Not sharing your thoughts just caused them to stir up in your head again. You felt the need to express them verbally, otherwise you wouldn't be able to concentrate all day. But before you could breathe in enough air (and courage) to ask Kenma about his friend, he came running towards you, grinning broadly. “Oy, Kenma, why haven't you introduced me to your new friend yet?”

While Kenma didn’t seem bothered to look up from his game at all, you turned your gaze to Kuroo. Your eyes met for a second, but before he could say anything else when he came to a halt in front of you, Kenma sighed and answered, “Because you spend way too much time on your university prep courses, nerd.” Kuroo gripped the back of his neck with one hand and put on an apologetic look before shifting his attention back to you, “I’m Kuroo Tetsuro,” he said his voice deep and smooth.

You noticed that your heart was beating a little faster and for an uncomfortably long second you couldn't get a sensible sentence together in your head. “I'm L/N Y/N, nice to meet you”, you finally brought forth, still looking at him. Your first impression wasn't wrong, he looked really good. Tall, broad shoulders with an athletic posture, dark, messy hair with piercing eyes. Had Kenma really just called him a nerd? Him?

Kuroo's smile widened as he noticed your lingering gaze. “Likewise. I’ve heard you’re quite the gamer,” he said, trying to keep the conversation light. You shrugged. “I dabble. Although my father has just banned me from it so that I can concentrate better on school.” 

“Ah, I see,” Kuroo remarked. “No wonder you two befriended each other rather quickly.” Kenma, still focused on his game, muttered, “Yes, but now Y/N reads boring text books during breaks and I have to take on the bosses alone.“ You laughed nervously, the sound drawing Kuroo’s attention even more. “I'm sure I'll get my PSP back soon if I get better grades this school year”, you said, your confidence evident.

„If it’s nothing else, maybe I can help you with that?“ Kuroo asked, leaning in a little further towards you. It was then you noticed his uniform, which he wore in a laid-back, effortless style. His tie was loosened, the top button of his shirt undone, and his sleeves casually rolled up to his elbows. He had even ditched the blazer altogether, giving him a relaxed and approachable look. Your face must’ve given away, that you had no idea what he was getting at.

“By tutoring, of course,” Kuroo added with a playful smile, leaning back slightly as if to give you some space again to process his offer. You blinked, feeling a mix of surprise and curiosity. “You would help me with my studies?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady. “Of course,” Kuroo replied smoothly. “Anything to help a friend of Kenma's.“

Kenma, still immersed in his game, shot Kuroo a quick, knowing glance but didn’t comment. You looked at Kenma, seeking some sort of silent approval or encouragement, but he remained focused on his screen. “Um, that would be great, actually,” you said, a small smile forming on your lips. “I could definitely use some help with chemistry.”

“Perfect,” Kuroo said, his grin widening. “We can start tomorrow after school, if that works for you.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” you agreed, feeling a flutter of nervous excitement. “Thank you, Kuroo.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, waving off your thanks. “I’ll make sure you get your PSP back in no time.”

Kenma finally looked up from his game, giving you both a thoughtful look. “Just don’t let him distract you too much,” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile on his lips.

You laughed softly, feeling a bit more at ease. “I’ll try my best.”

As the bell rang, signaling the end of the break, you gathered your things and stood up. Kuroo and Kenma followed suit, and the three of you started walking back to the school building together.

“By the way,” Kuroo said, falling into step beside you, “have you joined any clubs yet?” You shook your head. “Not yet. I’m still getting settled in and figuring out what I want to do. Why are you asking? Did you want to advertise yours?“ Kuroo noticed your teasing tone, but ignored it for now. “No, well, maybe a little. I’m the captain of the volleyball team. You should come watch us practice sometime.“

You hesitated for a moment, you knew volleyball from you friends at you former highschool, but their team wasn’t very good. To be precise, "good" was never a word you would think of in connection with their team to begin with. That's why the sport has remained uninteresting to you so far but the idea of watching Kuroo during practice was too tempting to resist. The thought of seeing him a little sweaty and worn out from training made your heart race. You could already picture his shirt clinging to his toned body, hair damp and falling into his eyes. The image made your cheeks heat up, but you quickly pushed the thought away, trying to stay focused on the conversation.

You nodded frantically. “Sounds interesting. Maybe I will check out your team.” Kuroo looked at you, smiling, he porbably noticed your little mental excursion. “Great! From next week on we practice after school every day. Just drop by the gym anytime.”

“Just be prepared for Kuroo to show off,” Kenma added and Kuroo chuckled. “I don’t show off, Kenma. I demonstrate. There’s a difference.”

As you reached your classroom, Kenma turned to Kuroo. “See you after school?”

“Yeah, see you,” he said, giving both of you a small wave before he added with a wink, „Ah, Y/N-Chan! Don’t forget about our study date tomorrow.”

“I won’t,” you promised, watching him go with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. As you settled back into your seat, you couldn’t help but smile. Maybe there was also a good side to your father taking your console.

[gremlin-girly]

Kinktober Day 6

Kink: Handjobs

Pairing: Room mate!Steve Rogers x f!Room mate! Reader

Tags/ Warnings: SMUT, room mates to lovers (ig?), listening/watching of porn, JOI porn, smutty audiobook mentioned, descriptions of masturbation (m and f), praise and petnames (good boy, baby, sweetheart), handjob (m recieving), soft!dom!reader X submissive!Steve (the man just needs some taking care of)

Not Beta read (I'll have to edit my mistakes when I have the chance!)

Word Count: 2.9k

Summary: Your roommate forgets to disconnect his Bluetooth headphones from his phone, leading to an embarrassing moment between you both that segues into something more.

As always I do not give permission for my work to be reposted, translated or copied. My warnings are non-exhaustive (even though I do try to capture everything) but please read at your own risk. I am not responsible for your content consumption.

I hope you enjoy; likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

Part 1 (you're here) | Part 2

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A/N: And they were roommates...

Originally, I had planned for this to go in a slightly different direction - but prefferred this!

But I have to admit, I do like a good roomates to lovers and have been playing with a few ideas of a Roommate!Steve (and potentially a Roommate!Bucky) so I may have accidentally started a little collection... Sorry for posting late, migraines all day had me conked out, just a double whammy for tonight!- Love, Grem x

You’d fallen into a nice routine since moving in with Steve. He was the perfect roommate, an utter gentleman, and easy on the eyes too. You knew being Captain America was a stressful full time job, and you were surprised to find that behind the stoic, stern symbol of hope was a friendly artist from Brooklyn.

It had taken Steve some time in getting used to you being around. When he went away on his first mission outside of the US , he’d forgotten you now lived with him and had startled you on your way to the bathroom. He’d been so apologetic about it and you'd just laughed. From then on, he’d text you when he was on his way home from a mission and from then on you always made sure there were leftovers in the fridge for him.  

Occasionally you’d spend time together, watching a movie, or idle chit chat as you cooked breakfast for you both. Steve slowly but surely came out of his shell and relaxed around you – and you him – cracking jokes, gently ribbing each other. You didn’t miss the way the tips of his ears burned  when you complimented him or how your heart fluttered when he’d brush past you to throw a dirty mug into the sink. But you were just roommates.

And you were currently a roommate with dead headphones.

“Steve?” you emerged from your room and padded out into the living area, spotting Steve who quickly locked his phone looking at you with wide eyes. You locked an eyebrow as you approached. “You alright?”

“Y-Yeah.” He clears his throat and runs a hand through his hair. “Thought you were in bed.”

You shrug helplessly. “Dead headphones. Could I borrow yours whilst mine charge please? If that’s okay?”

Steve nods and twists to point over at the kitchen counter. “Yeah, sure. They should be over there somewhere.”

You waltz over to the counter and find the headphone case easily, missing how Steve’s eyes follow your figure. You turn back to him and smile, wiggling the case.

“Thanks, lifesaver. Couldn’t miss the next chapter of my book.”   

Steve smiles back  but his expression looks like a mixture of disappointment and relief that you seem to be leaving to head back to your room.  “No worries. Night.”

“Night. Don't stay  up too late, Stevie.” You say as you grasp the handle to your door.  Steve only hums in response and waits for you to be safely shut away in your room before unlocking his phone again.

He runs his hand over his face as he looks down at the videos before him. It wasn’t the first time he visited porn sites, but lately he’d found  the perfect stress relief after a day of being Captain America. He felt the shame trickle down his spine and pushed away the guilty thoughts that plagued him in moments like these. Captain America being told what to do? Having powerful women instruct  him to jerk off, shower him with praise, and tell him when to cum was more than enough for blackmail, let alone the jokes that Tony would make if the information ever saw the light of day. And you had almost caught him.

Steve shivers, palming his growing erection over his joggers. God, it was worse knowing he liked you almost catching him. Would you have flustered? Or would you have complimented his cock with that teasing smile you always seem to wear? 

Steve curses under his breath at the thought, cock twitching. He shakes his head to try and rid himself of the thought but it sticks, and he scrolls through the myriad of videos until he finds a promising one. With one final cautionary glance at your door, he shuffles his joggers and boxers down to take out his hardening cock. He only needs the volume low thanks to super soldier hearing and you’d either be fast asleep or listening to whatever audio book you were listening to this month to hear what has about to happen. Steve makes himself comfortable again the sofa pillows, leaning into them and pumping his cock a few times thinking about how good you must look right now cuddled under the covers in those tight pyjama shorts. Before he gets lots in the daydream, he hits play on the video, continuing to stroke himself but slowly now; awaiting his instructions. After a moment there’s still no sound. Steve clicks the buttons to up the volume, continuing slow ministrations and thinking of you.

Before Steve had pressed play, you had been lying in bed with the headphones in, debating whether or not you would go to hell for using your hot roommate Bluetooth headphones to listen to smut. Your body flushed at the thought but... you needed an extra helping hand before bed tonight since you’d had a particularly stressful day too. Steve didn’t need to know.

When the audio kicked in, you thought you had accidentally hit play, and allowed yourself to be subjected to your fate. You heaved a contented, almost smug sigh, eyes fluttering closed as you  reached down under the band of your pyjama shorts. The narrator’s voice sounded different somehow. Maybe they’d changed actors? Then she started giving instructions. Your frown with your eyes closed, fingers finding your clit but not moving. It isn’t until you hear the words “good boy” being uttered that your eyes fly open in horror.

Steve’s headphones are still connected to his phone.

Steve is watching porn.

Steve doesn’t know you can hear it.

Your face burns red with embarrassment and you scramble to get the earphones out of your ears. Even though you shouldn’t, you feel heat pool between your legs. You should tell him. He hasn’t realised. But would it be weird? If you disconnect the headphones he might suspect it but if you text him it’d be worse. And God forbid you see what he’s doing in the living room.

Your fingers hover over the Bluetooth icon on your phone. Your imagination is running wild and now you really don’t think you need your smutty little audiobook anymore.

The volume gets turned up on the headphones again and you can hear the woman continue talking  through instructions in a sultry voice.  You panic, blushing furiously, and rip the covers away from you. You trip out of bed, grasping at the headphones and call out.

“STEVE!”

Big mistake.

You balk. Why did you call for him? You hide your head under your hands as you hear Steve scramble in the living room, cursing as he knocks a foot against the coffee table. He bursts into your room, face flushed, and sees you lying on the floor. You don’t look up. You can’t meet his eyes.

Steve opens his mouth to ask if you’re alright, you look like you’ve fallen out of bed, but as he does he hears it. In the blind panic to help you, he forgot to hit pause. The sounds from the video echoing from the headphones in your grasp. Red creeps up Steve’s neck and face and he stammers. This was a nightmare.

“ohmygod,” he breathes out, hiding his face. “Oh- Y/N – God- How long were you-?” He stops himself clearly even more flustered by the fact you may have (totally) been listening.

You remember you still exist and your head snaps up, equally as red as Steve’s, meeting his glimmering blue eyes with an apologetic look.

“I thought it was mine.” You clarify, and Steve looks like he might pass out.

“What do you mean yours?”

“I... thought it was my audiobook.” Your voice grows quieter at your admission and you give Steve a sheepish look. You both stare at each other for an age; each wrapping your head’s around the new information you’d discovered about each other, and trying to come to terms with the tension that was now entirely palpable between you.

You were the first to speak, lips twitching into a smirk slightly. “So.... do we want to talk about this?”

The smirk made Steve’s cock twitch. There it was, the same teasing smirk you always gave him. He had been so close to cumming when you’d called out for him, and the embarrassment that followed ruined the high, but at least he’d have material to work with when he went back to his bed.

Steve held up his hands and found himself smiling nervously down at you. “No thanks, I think I’ll pass.”

“That’s it, good boy.”

You have to bite back a laugh as the woman’s voice erupts from the headphones in your hand. Steve looks like he wants the ground to swallow him.

“She’s really going for it,” you comment, trying to break the ice. Steve starts to grin but he groans. You’d heard him sigh and groan before, and it never ceased to make you hot and bothered. “I see why you like it so much.”

“Please don’t.” Steve chuckles softly. “My old heart can’t take it. I’m sorry I forgot to disconnect them.”

“S’all good.”  You clamber to your feet and hold out his headphones to him, Immediately  wiping your sweaty palms onto your pyjama shorts. “And for what it’s worth, totally normal. Don’t be too embarrassed.”

“Hrm,” Steve grumbles, looking at the headphones in his large palm. When his gaze shifts back to you, he’s smirking slightly with a raised eyebrow. “And you thought this was your...?” He can’t quite get himself to say the word porn, but you roll your eyes playfully at him.

“My porn audiobook – yes.” Your eyes narrow teasingly at him. “But I’ll only share it with you if you’re a good boy.”

Steve’s body goes rigid,  and your expression softens. “Sorry. Too soon to joke about it?”

Steve’s looking down at you, pupils blown wide, trying to learn how to breathe again and hide the fact that his cock is rock hard between you. He shakes his head gently and clears his throat.

“N-no. It’s fine.” Steve huffs, eyes still fixated on you. Heat unfurls between your thighs under his gaze.

“Steve?” Your voice is so quiet it’s barely audible. Your heart beats in your ears and you watch Steve’s Adam's apple bob as he swallows thickly.

“yeah?” his voice is hoarse, bordering on desperate.

“Do you want me to call you a good boy?” You murmur. You watch as his eyes flutter and he bites down on his plush lip, suppressing a throaty sound that you’re sure sounds like a strangled whimper that makes your pussy throb with excitement. “It’s okay. You can say it. I don’t mind.”

“Fuck.” Steve curses, half turning away from you. When he turns, you can see the tent in his joggers and you almost swoon at the sight. “We shouldn’t-“

“Not what I asked, Stevie.” You say firmly. Steve’s eyes betray his thoughts and he only nods. You offer him your hand with a soft smile. “You’re okay – I’ve got you.”

The reassurance seems to be what he needs because the super soldier allows you to lead him to your bed. You let him sit down first and you stand between his muscular thighs. He’s still almost as tall as you sitting down, but you’re just that little bit taller like this to cup his face and tilt it up towards you to capture his lips in a sweet kiss. Steve breathes hard through his nose, his eyes close, and his shoulders slowly sag as you kiss. His big hands ghost over your thighs to settle on your hips. When you pull away to take a breath, you smile down at him, still cupping his soft clean shaven face.

“Good boy,” Your murmur against his lips and Steve audibly sighs in delight. “Now, undress and lay back for me. I wanna take care of you.”

You don’t need to tell him twice. His shirt is the first thing to go, tossed to the floor somewhere. Your eyes rake down his chest and your hands follow tracing the outlines of his taut muscles. He shivers underneath your touch and his breathing hitches when you reach the waistband of his joggers. There's barely anything left to the imagination with Steve's length straining against the thing fabric and you watch as Steve's blue eyes look up at you one last time; searching yours in case you want to back out. Before the point of no return.

He obeys, quietly shuffling back. His breathing is deep and laboured, his eyes never leave you as you kneel between his legs on your bed. You're hot all over - you dreamed of having him in your bed but now that he was here you almost felt self-conscious. But you had meant what you said when you told him you wanted to take care of him. Gently wrapping your fingers around his cock, the heat and hardness of the smooth skin making your mouth water, you pump a few times to adjust your grip. Steve lets out a breathy sigh but watches closely.

You swallow and nod at him, urging him with a barely audible "Go on," as encouragement. When Steve's cock is free, you lick your lips subconsciously at the sight. Big was an understatement and there's a dribble of pre-cum leaking from the tip already. You can feel Steve watching you, patiently waiting instruction, and your eyes meet his again.

"Further back onto the bed, Stevie."

You set a steady rhythm, Steve's breath hitching as you pump his weeping cock and shower him with praises making his head fall back into your pillows with muffled moans. As sexy as it was watching Steve try to suppress his moans by biting his (ridiculously) soft lips, you were desperate to hear them. Especially if, after tonight, things became... awkward at best.

"Don't keep those pretty sounds from me," You coo lasciviously at him, letting a blob of spit slowly roll from your tongue and drip onto the tip of his cock. The gasp Steve emits makes his whole body jerk, and heat rushes to his face. His cock twitches as you pump him harder, faster and now slicker, smirking up at him with that devilish grin he sees every night before he closes his eyes.

"Oh, fuuuuck." Steve moans loudly, and you chuckle; pleased he listened and pleased by how his eyes roll back and how he can't seem to stop his hips jerking.

"You were such a good boy Stevie but you should have said something. And let me take care of you." Your voice is low and seductive, you barely recognise it's you who's speaking. It's not often you get to be like this and your brain (or another organ entirely) is speaking without thinking.

"That's it baby, be nice and loud for me."

Steve huffs, brows furrowing softly trying to focus himself; which only spurs you on more. You grip his cock a little harder, expertly gliding your hand up and down.

"You like thinking about this when you're alone, Stevie? When I've been across the hall this entire time?"

"Shit, yes - oh." Steve groans again, cock twitching in your palm. You feel a sense of pride, and a flutter of something you dare not mention, at the confession. You're glad it's not just one-sided attraction, at the very least.

"Mm, I should have." Steve hums, breathing becoming heavier and heavier by the second. You are relentless, pumping him with the occasional trail of drool, and unabashed praises of him just to watch him squirm under your touch.

"Your cock is so pretty Stevie," Your murmur to him, watching his sac tighten as you fist his cock faster. "I can't wait to taste it."

Both the comment itself and the very thought of having your lips around his cock, make Steve cum so hard his vision blurs for a few seconds. His face and neck are flushed and he's coated in his own cum, panting hard with his eyes closed. You smile at the sight, committing it to memory before any guilt or shame sets in. You stealthily move over him to your bedside table to grab some wet wipes. Steve barely moves at the shift on the bed, but his eyes peek over to you and you gently smile down at him. You pull a wet-wipe free and hand it to him, unsure how he'd react to you cleaning him up.

"You okay, sweetheart?" You ask softly, sitting against the edge of the bed as Steve graciously takes the wipe from you. His face his bright red still and you start feeling the nibbles of guilt at the edges of your mind. You had both been willing and horny... but perhaps jeopardising your friendship to make Captain America cum wasn't the smartest idea.

"Mm." Steve clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, and takes another wet-wipe. You fight the urge to make a joke about the super-soldier amount of cum. Not now.

"Hey," You reach out to touch his shoulder but stop when Steve looks over at you with his baby blues still blown wide. "This doesn't have to change anything if you don't want it to. We can pretend this never happened."

You shuffle awkwardly on the edge of your bed, grasping your hands in your lap. "But I... liked it. And I wouldn't mind if you wanted to... spend the night in here."

"I think I'd like that." He mumbles. "And I think I'd like to do it again sometime."

You can't tell if you've crossed the line from reassurance to worry for a moment. The silence drags for what feels like an eternity until Steve's features go from flustered to soft, with that cute smile he does so well.

Now it's your turn to go red. "Good. Great."

Steve chuckles. "But first, since you heard my audio... I think it's fair I heard yours."

[yeonmuse]

`✦ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ Curtain Call ·˚ ༘

ᥫ᭡ f!reader x lee heeseung ── 𝒢enre. Uni au. fluff, non idol enha. feats. ot7 [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

authors notes This is a follow up to Heeseungs side story in Can You Hear My Heart. It takes place directly after the final chapter of Jungwons Mini Series. This is not a Hee X Reader series, but if youd like to replace the characters name with your own feel free to. This is part of admins University series

IN WHICH 𖤓 Heeseung has a thing for the theaters golden girl, he’s been crushing on her for months. He’s got it so bad for her that he somehow lets Jake talk him into attending auditions just to get closer to her.

Join the taglist here

Everyones invited

Heeseung meant what he said when he tweeted that he’d be going to that party, though the party itself was quite exclusive he along with his friends had already scored secure invites. Him having been friends with the boyfriend of the party host, besides since nicholas had cancelled his party, what better way to spend their time then at a party where he could finally see her outside of just practice or their occasional bump ins on campus.

He along with everyone else from the operationXO group chat would be attending, everyones invited, though if only they knew tonight was about to take a turn for the worst.

As they all arrived the house had already been completely packed, his first time at a penthouse suite yet all he cared about was finding her, his priorities sure did change. As he spots the pink fuzz of her hoodie which he had seen in the photos she had taken, he takes a few steps forward only to stop dead in his tracks as his eyes fall upon her smiling and laughing with two other girls, and one girl he knew all too well, Rena.

Sakoia must have sensed his presence because he had been preparing to turn himself around and walk away before he could be seen. She spotted him standing there.

“Heeseung?” He curses under his breath before looking up at her rubbing the nape of his neck.

“Koia, didn’t think I’d see you here. You didn’t strike me as the party type.” He was lying through his teeth, he had seen her posts enough by now to know when it came to her friends she was out often.

“Guess there’s a lot you’ve got to learn about me, Lee Heeseung.” She laughs and jerks her head into the direction of each of her friends as she introduces him to them.

“Ladies this is Heeseung, Heeseung this is Yuan, Nezza and Yuan's friend Rena.” No one else had seemed to notice but by the time Sakoia had introduced Rena, she had already been staring at him. This was painfully awkward and awfully troubling for him, the woman he was once in love with, the one that broke his heart, standing right across from the girl he had been trying to pursue for the last 5 months.

“Nice to meet you all.” He tried his best to play it cool, act as if he didn’t remember her, but she was well aware that he remembered, and he also knew very well from the way he looked at her alone, that he had a thing for Sakoia, because the same way he looked at Sakoia was how he once looked at her.

“I didn’t know you’d be here tonight? Are the girls and the others here too?”

“Yeah we all came, Wonbin gave us an invite since Nicholas had to cancel his party. Congratulations on your release by the way, Nezza.” Truth be told he didn’t know a lot about nezza since the two had only met a handful of times, on the other hand he had known wonbin for years, the two of them having lived across from one another for years in their high school and middle school days.

“Thanks Hee, he’s upstairs probably playing pool in the foyer with some of the guests.”

“Sounds like I should be joining them, but I’ll catch you a little later?” He responds looking at Sakoia.

“Come find me later?” She responds with a smile on her face, he nods in response before disappearing into the crowd.

The moment Sakoia turned around she was met with amused faces.

“Lee Heeseung? You’re hanging out with him and his friends now?” Nezza was the first to mention the obvious elephant in the room, as long as she had known wonbin she had known about Heeseung, she had only met him and his friends a handful of times but it was enough times to know that they were a fun but chaotic bunch. As sweet as Heeseung was, she knew very well that he was the type to leave them, not love them, and it was obvious that his sights were set on her.

“I won’t say hanging out with his friends, I’ve only met them all once at his friend Jungwons Film event, other than that I only just met the girls but we’ve been hanging out occasionally.”

“All I got from this was that there are other women stealing my wife away.” Yuan complains and wraps her arms around Sakoia earning a laugh from sakoia and Nezza, while Rena just sat and observed.

“Just be careful with him, he’s not the type to talk to a woman just because he wants to be friends.”

“Nezz don’t read too much into it like you always do, we’re only friends, he’s a cast member now so I’m sure he just wants to get to know me better since we’re working together, it's only natural to do that right?”

“I don’t even know the guy, but the way he looked at you was not how a costar looks at their costar.”

“Yuan. Seriously you both are reading too much into it.”

Knowing that she had caught Heeseungs eye made her look at Sakoia in a different light. She scanned the girl from head to toe, she had to give it to Heeseung, he sure knew how to pick them, she was beautiful, stunning, but was she really his type?

While the girls remained in the kitchen chatting and gossiping about their life outside of campus, Heeseung joined the others upstairs, half out of his mind from the fact that now only the girl he currently had a thing for had been there, but so was Rena, of all places he could run into her, of all the people he could have seen here it was her.

“You look like you just saw a ghost” Wonbin chuckles as he leans over the pool table for his play.

“Maybe he ran into Sakoia.” Sunghoon teases, earning a slap on the arm from yn who had been sitting on jungwons lap.

“Oh I definitely saw her, she and her friends were having a nice conversation before I met them in the kitchen, a conversation with Rena.”

“Oh shit she's really here?” Sunghoon was sent into a fit of laughter that only made Heeseung roll his eyes in response.

“That bitch is actually here? Why ?” Sunoo absolutely hated her, there was no one in the group that hated her more than he had, not even Heeseung himself.

“Apparently she knows both of Koias friends and she was invited, Koia doesn’t seem to know her. I'm guessing they met for the first time today.”

“I saw the whole interaction on twitter, I just didn’t think she would actually be coming, that's insane.” Sunghoon chimes in as he takes his shot on the billiard table.

“Am I missing something? Who is this girl and why do we hate her exactly?” Yn had been the only one left out of the loop, for as long as the guys had known each other they all knew that she was someone that they didn’t speak of. There was a mutual hatred for the girl that each of them had had since senior year in high school.

“Shes Heeseungs Ex”

🔖 @sol3chu @butterflywonz @jwonistic @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @lillotus17 @dreeki @jiamini @st4rryst4r @firstclassjaylee @right-person-wrong-time @heesallure

Chapterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[airandyeah]

Warm The Kettle Steb X Reader Pt.5

Authors note: Please, please, PLEASE read the character sheet. Please. This character sheet, PLEASE! The Series Master list is here My personal Master list is here A/N: I know Steb isn't a very popular character but this might become a discontinued story due to lack of interest... Likes and comments go a long way! This chapter we will be meeting your shitty family!

Your footsteps matched Steb's as you patrolled together. Morning patrol, started 20 minutes ago. 5:00 AM-11:00 PM. You were still yawning as you walked, occasionally glancing at Steb who seemed perfectly rested. "How much sleep did you get?", you asked him through another yawn, you remembered he had the shitty evening shift last night so you were curious. He held up 6 finger, 6 hours of sleep. You gawked at him, "I got 9, how the hell are you so awake?!", you ask dramatically and he chuckles behind a closed fist. "I don't need too much sleep"... Are you really sleep deprived, or did Steb just... TALK?! "Di-did you just talk to me?", your expression was priceless and Steb let out a bigger laugh, slightly grabbing his throat due to the scratchy feeling of talking. "You talked to me! Yes!", you pumped your fists into the air and hopped around, onlookers staring at you with sidelong eyes, 'weirdo', they think. ~~~ After some time you and Steb came across a bleeding Zaunite on the side of a mostly empty street, it seems he had gotten into a brawl as you and Steb got on either side of him, he kneeled down and you squatted. The man was barely conscious, but he obviously had life left in him as he tried to scramble away from the two people in uniform. "Hey hey, calm down.", you signal for Steb to check for an ID or anything while you hold your hands over the mans head. Before long, a golden glow emits from your hands, forming the shapes of small lotus flowers as the mans wounds weave back together. Steb after looking an ID over is staring at the magic flowing from your hands. It not only looks beautiful, but it looks... warm. ~~~ After taking the man in to run the ID and to get a statement about his previous... injuries, you discover that a group of Piltover citizens ganged up on the man, yelling about how they didn't need scum like him, walking their streets. It pissed you off more than most things, having been the 'scum' of your own birthplace. Steb knew you were very deep in thought as you both walked back to base after your shift, your usual chit-chat was now non-existent, your face scrunched slightly in what he placed as irritation. The irritation was replaced with a new expression as you both pushed through the doors to the base, now it was something akin to anger and... fear? he moved his eyes to follow where yours had landed, finding a man. Said man had large silver wings, greying hair ontop of his head, and an eyepatch over one eye, revealing a blue eye on the other side. He was dressed in a finely tailored grey suit, fixed with a white tie and golden stitching. He was leaning against the wall- like he was waiting. Only now was it obvious to Steb, he was waiting for you. Your father stood there, next to a wall and you suddenly felt your heart hit the floor, no, he can't be here. You thought his threats to 'come take you back', were just that, threats. Empty threats. But his presence proved you wrong as you unconsciously moved your body so you were almost hiding behind Steb.

[its-rat-time-babey]

Fun fact about Hinobi Tech Support: The entire fic owes its existence to another fic called Hinobi Chat Log Day 69. I know the writer has or had a tumblr account at some point so if you’re reading this I cannot thank you enough for writing it.

Basically right after I watched through all of Glitch Techs and started going through its small amount of (non-porn or massive crossover) fanfiction, I stumbled across it, read through the entire thing and essentially went “This looks fun, I should try writing my own chat fic” and the end result was the first 3 chapters of HTSBD. Then I don’t even know how or why, but I got an A03 account and posted it and I’ve been working on it since.

Also another fun fact:

Miko and Mitch’s typing styles are references to Hinobi Chat Log Day 69. Mitch never uses periods at the end of his posts, just like he does in Day 69, and Miko never uses capitalization or punctuation besides the occasional exclamation point or question mark, again, just like Day 69. The only difference is that my version of Miko has access to autocorrect, and I guarantee that without it she’d be typing just like she does in Day 69.

Another reference to Day 69 is in chapter 8. In it, Zahra, while trying to figure out Miko’s reset immunity, mentions Miko’s ADHD while assuming that Miko is already diagnosed with it, which takes Miko by surprise because she’s barely even knows what ADHD is.

This scene, with Zahra accidentally diagnosing Miko and that being how Miko figures out she has ADHD, is one big reference to Day 69, when almost the exact same thing happens with some different context:

[queenoftheworldisdead]

Non-compete

chapter 1

A/N: Reader is female. No physical descriptors used. Let me know if i fucked up and not do that. Chat me up i don't bite!

Summary: Your super genius younger sister is offered a chance of a lifetime to work for either Oscorp or Stark industries straight out of high school. Her choices leave you stuck in an unrequited love triangle.

Warning: Slow Burn, Adult content only! 18+ only please. Dark! There is potentially triggering stories ahead.

Norman Osborn x Reader, (not in this chapter Peter Parker x Reader)

💻

You sit in the hallway, tapping your shoe against the linoleum floor, nerves building as you wait with your sister. Emily however was the opposite, ever calm and more focused on her laptop than the upcoming interview.

Because of her age, a guardian, you, had to be present for it. You're so proud of her, she is the smartest person in the world, at least in your opinion. Your little genius had always been miles ahead of her peers and most adults. By the time most kids were learning to ride bikes she was already competing in national science competitions, collecting trophies like playing cards.

But all those smarts came with a downside—she got bored easily, and that’s when the trouble would start. If she wasn’t challenged enough, she’d find creative ways to stir things up, both at home and in school. Her teachers were constantly asking to move her up a few grades, but you refused—you wanted her to have the full experience of growing up with her peers, even if it meant managing a bit of mischief along the way.

At home, she’d tinker with electronics or 'improve' things around the house, which usually ended with something sparking off. Sure it led to the occasional electrical fire, but she meant well.

"Stop your embarrassing me." She hisses swatting you away.

"Your tags popping out," you whisper, recoiling back with a frown. You just want everything to be perfect for her.

"Fine." She sighs reluctantly. You perk up when she relents to your mothering. Its a bad habit you know, but it's a hard one to break.

“He is ready to see you now." The young, sharply dressed woman announces suddenly, catching you both off guard.

Emily stands first, clamping her laptop shut and shouldering her bag as you stand to follow.

“Excuse me are you her guardian?” She halts you abruptly.

“Oh yes, I was told she needed to have a guardian with her for this.” You answer unconfidently. Had you misread the email? No Emily would’ve said something. You look to your sister as she clutches her laptop, she just as confused as you are.

“I’m sorry Miss, but guardians must wait outside. If she proceeds to the next phase you’ll be allow to chaperon.” The lady explains.

“O-Oh sorry, sorry about that. Well um good luck Sparkles,” you stutter out nervously taking a stepback, nearly stumbling back into the chair.

She grimaces at the pet-name, and you instantly realize your mistake. You shrivel as you sink into the chair avoiding her gaze. She's annoyed, she’s told you before, but it just slips out sometimes.

“Well OK then I think we’re all set to go now, right?,” Emily asks sharply turning on her heals to face the professional woman.

You don’t look up as they leave through the double glass doors. No doubt when this is over she will be in a mood.

💻

The longer the wait the more nervous you feel. You try not to think about what is going on beyond the conference walls and slyly people watch.

Everyone seems to be your age or way older and that worried you. More and more this seems like a bad idea. You didn't want her thrusted into adulthood like you were. There were so many missed experiences that you wished you had and didn't want that for her. She was much too young for this. She should be applying for universities not presenting prototypes to old men in suits.

The conference rooms door open and you sit up anxiously. You perk up when you hear Emily's voice. She sounds happy, that had to be a good sign. At least you hope so.

You watch as Emily exits first, followed by a man who looks much older than your father. They don't seem to register your presences as they immerse themselves in technical language that you can’t follow.

You stay seated, pretending to go through your phone, trying your best not to embarrass her again. If the interview went bad they wouldn't still be talking right?

Emily mentions your name, you catch it, and tense when you find them both walking over to you.

"Mr. Osborn this is my sister," Emily introduces you suddenly. You shoot up from your seat too quickly, nearly spilling over your bag as you try and greet the man. He doesn’t seem to notice as he extends his hand and approaches. You force a smile, hoping he can’t see the nervous energy creeping through you.

“Hello,” you squeak out as he shakes your hand firmly. “N-Nice to meet you Mr. Osborn.”

"You can call me Norman," he corrects with a smirk. You look to Emily and gauge how your doing. She’s smiling, but somehow you know she isn’t happy with your performance thus far.

"You have a brilliant sister. Did she learn everything from you?"

"Oh no… I could never. I wish I was half as smart as her." You stammer out under his intense gaze. It feels like he is watching ever word that comes out of your mouth. It's nerve-wracking; you don’t want him to judge your sister poorly because of her bumbling, idiot of a sibling.

"She has always been super supportive. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her." Your sister cuts in quickly and you're grateful.

"I see. Well you did a fantastic job." He states before turning his attention back to your sister. You feel relief to be out of the spot light, it was never a place you longed to be, unlike her. "I wish I could stay longer, but I have another meeting to get to."

“Thank you for the opportunity Mr. Osborn.”

You snort at her professional facade, but when she frowns, you quickly look away and stifle it. It's so cute. You’d never heard her sound so mature before.

“Nonsense its an honor to meet such a promising young woman.”

💻

[luckybyrdrobyn]

Chapter 1 draft 1 (its technically draft 2 but we don't talk about that one)

It was a pleasant night in Miyazaki, the wind was low and the temperature of the air was a pleasant chill. The full moon illuminating the few corners untouched by the streetlights. The only shadow cast came in the silhouette of the stranger who made their way swiftly down the street, long striding steps causing their cloak to billow around and behind them despite the non-existent wind.

There is the vague outline of a bundle, disappearing in and out of folds of black fabric. The stranger holds it close to their chest as if to shield it from view of their surroundings. Not that anyone who might catch a glimpse here would care much more than to gossip the oddity over a lunch break the next day. But the strangers appearance alone is enough to spike that curiosity.

-

Further down the street is the hose of Kuroo Tanoshi and Keriena, marked by a goofy Halloween skeleton with a now empty bowl in hand and a sign reading "take one" in spiky characters.

Kuroo Tanoshi was a well built man with neat black hair and warm brown eyes that could see into your soul. He was a kind man who valued the comfort of those around him, often more than his own, much to his wife's chargin.

He worked at a small chemist, preparing prescriptions and identifying worrying customers' maladies. While the pay was not the most ideal, he would often state that he "wouldn't take any jobs over it", finding happiness in aiding those who came to him.

Keriena Kuroo was a confident woman, with a toned body that didn't quite match the heavily pregnant silhouette she currently supported. Her long dark brown hair was cropped short underneath and her eyes were dark enough to be black. Tanoshi would often declare that they held all the stars of the night if their depths.

While currently on maternity leave, Keriena had still been burrying herself into her work, unable to stay out of the loop for even a week, let alone three. She worked as a detective and field agent in the local law enforcement with a 89% success rate in her field.

Keriena is seated at their dinner table as Tanoshi stands in their kitchen, cleaning the plates from the evening's meal. They chat amicably about Tanoshi's day and plans for their unborn son.

The conversation finds its way to forgein politics and Keriena mentions that it's been a year since the end of the mass murders in London. The news had spread quickly around the world at the time. The sudden end to an eleven year war was bound to cause ripples, even in Japan.

No one was certain how the cult leader had died. There were speculations in Keriena's workplace of course; bombs, gas leaks, structural damage enough to crush the leader, even the occasional suggestion it was suicide for one reason or another.

The Potters had been the only ones home that night, the young couple and their son. At the end of the incident, the only member left unaccounted for was 1 year old Harry. Neighbours had heard him crying in an upstairs room after the incident but when responders got up there, there was no baby in sight.

It sparked a huge search at the time. But no reports or reminders had been put out about it since June. One baby, no matter how symbolic, wasn't worth the time and money when you were rebuilding from a war after all. The boy who lived, forgotten, reduced to a title to stir action.

A quiet fell momentarily as the couple sat in contemplation. Tanoshi with his mouth set in a grim line, never one for such sour endings, as he finished in the kitchen and moved back towards the table. He bent to hold his wife for a moment, to thank the spirits that both her and their son were safe, that they had no need to fear such dangers.

A knock echoed from the front door. Three strong raps and then silence.

The couple traded looks, not expecting anyone at this time, moat of the trick-or-treaters having dwindled off an hour ago. Tanoshi, slightly spooked but never one to let others down, stepped away to answer the door anyway. Keriena a short ways behind him, curious and cautious.

There was nothing visible through the peep-hole but Tanoshi proceeded to unlock and open the door eyes automatically scanning the front garden and along the street for figures. It was Keriena's gasp that made him look down. Following her gaze to their doorstep his eyes found a small bundle.

Neatly wrapped in green cloth, clutching a letter in one small chubby hand was a little boy with a lightning-bolt scar on his forehead. He couldn't have been much older than two, tiny face, framed by messy black hair scrunched in some sort of dream as he sat there, no other person in sight.

Picking up the child carefully, neither of the Kuroos noticed the soft crack as the stranger across the street turned on his heel and disappeared, only a corner of his cloak waving behind as he left. Harry Potter was safe for now, their job was done.

[caesariawritesstuff]

♡ CaesariaWrites ♡

● Ao3 ● X ● Retrospring ●

Hi! I'm Caesaria. I write for the Riddler and other Gotham Rogues, but you'll find 95% of my content is Riddler orientated. My current focus is on my long-fic, Cat & Mouse.

♡ I'm a 30-year-old cis female living in the Midwest.

♡ When not writing fanfic, my focus is on my original fiction, as I have big dreams of becoming a published author one day.

♡ I was diagnosed with Anxiety, Depression, and OCD.

♡ Fun fact about me: I'm blind in one eye.

♡ I'm pretty active on here, so my ask box is always open for requests, to chat, or just send me whatever you want.

♡ My Ask Box is OPEN

♡ Current No. of Requests: 8

♡ I write primarily for the Riddler (Arkham, Telltale, Gotham, Zero Year, BTAS), but I will write for the other Gotham Rogues, particularly for Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Penguin, and Two-Face.

♡ My preference is smut, angst, and other dark-themed fics, but I don't mind fluff, either.

♡ My main focus is my long-fic, Cat & Mouse, a Riddler x Reader story about a reformed Riddler coming to work for the GCPD three years after Arkham Knight.

♡ Anything to do with minors

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♡ Bestiality

♡ Major character death

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♡ Anything in general that makes me uncomfortable is. Sometimes I don't realize what that is until I get a certain ask!

♡ At the moment, I'm primarily taking requests for anything to do with my long-fic, Cat & Mouse (involving my Cat&Mouse!Verse).

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♡ Because Cat & Mouse and my original fiction are my focus, requests do come in last on my priority list. Sometimes this means it can take me weeks, if not months, to respond to an ask. I apologize if you have to wait so long, but just keep this in mind, as I do also have a life outside of writing and Tumblr.

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♡ I write for the Riddler, Scarecrow, Mad Hatter, Penguin, Two-Face, and occasionally Harley Quinn, if a request interests me.

♡ Anyone outside of this list I do not write for. Mainly because I either don't know enough about the character or just don't feel comfortable in my ability to write them (such as Bane, for example).

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♡ Here's a masterlist for all of my fics.

General Masterlist Cat & Mouse Masterlist

♡ Cat & Mouse is my long-fic, and really, my passion project.

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♡ To see all the incredible fan art I've received for Cat & Mouse, you can check it out here!

Comic Panel from Chapter 20

Reformed Scarecrow Art

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Art Collection

Stim Board

♡ A masterlist of general prompts you can request from.

Put that Guy in a Situation

Build a Fic

The Look of Love

Best Friends to Lovers

Jealousy No. 1

Jealousy No. 2

Jealousy No. 3

Jealousy No. 4

Idiots Who are in Love

Random Various Prompts

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Date Gone Wrong

Hopelessly In Love

Longing for Someone

Injury

Nightmare

Angry Confessions

"I Want You" No. 2

♡ A masterlist of smut prompts for you to request from.

Smut Prompts No. 1

Smut Prompts No. 2

Smut Prompts No. 3

Smut Prompt No. 4

Smut Phrases

Dirty Text Prompts

Discreet Sexual Tension

Smut Prompts No. 1

Smut Prompts No. 2

Smut Prompts No. 3

Smut Prompt No. 4

Smut Phrases

Dirty Text Prompts

Discreet Sexual Tension

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*Header by the amazing @finzphoenix

[shewasverynice]

Fandoms: 呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Manga)呪術廻戦 | Jujutsu Kaisen (Anime)  MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS

Rating: Explicit 

Major Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con 

Content Warnings: Dubious Consent, Prostitution, Drug Use, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Blood and Violence

Categories: F/M, Multi, F/F 

Relationships: Gojo Satoru/Original Female Character(s), Nanami Kento/Original Female Character(s), Getou Suguru/Original Female Character(s), Ieiri Shoko & Iori Utahime 

Major Characters: Original Characters, Gojo Satoru, Getou Suguru, Nanami Kento, Okkotsu Yuuta, Toudou Aoi, Zenin Naobito, Zenin Jinichi, Zenin, Zenin Ougi, Fushiguro Megumi, Kamo Clan, Nitta Akari, Inumaki Toge, Ieiri Shoko, Iori Utahime, Kusakabe Atsuya, Muta Kokichi, Itadori Yuuji, Hakari Kinji

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾　Chapter 11　☽༓･*˚⁺‧͙

Rin Morishita sat in the passenger seat of a sleek black sports car, her long dark brown hair loose and cascading in waves down her back. The vehicle hummed smoothly as it sped along the highway from Tokyo to Niigata, the city skyline gradually giving way to rolling hills and distant mountains. Beside her, Kento Nanami maintained a firm grip on the wheel, his usual stoic demeanor softened by the casual conversation they shared.

Rin’s caramel brown eyes flicked occasionally to Nanami. She kept her posture dignified, her hands resting gracefully on her lap, fingers occasionally brushing the hem of her elegant, dark-colored dress. Despite her composed exterior, there was a sense of readiness in her, a hint of the wild ferocity she displayed in battle lurking beneath the surface. The stress of recent events had her on edge.

In the backseat, Yuta Okkotsu and Yuji Itadori chatted animatedly, their youthful energy filling the car with a lively buzz. Okkotsu, with his serious yet gentle nature, balanced out Itadori’s exuberance. Their conversation occasionally drew a soft smile from Rin, her eyes crinkling at the corners as she listened to their banter.

Turning her attention back to Nanami, Rin broke the comfortable silence between them, "Nanami-san, if you don’t mind me asking, why did you choose to bring Itadori specifically on this mission?"

Nanami's lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile as he continued to focus on the road. "I think Itadori has been spending too much time with Gojo lately," he replied, his tone polite but firm, "Gojo can be a bad influence, and I believe it’s important for Itadori to learn from different perspectives. Especially in this type of investigation."

Rin nodded thoughtfully, her eyes lingering on Nanami's profile, "That makes sense. It’s good for him to have varied experiences and guidance."

The scenery outside the car window changed from urban to rural, the lush greenery and open fields of the countryside providing a serene backdrop to their journey. The sunlight filtered through the trees, casting dappled shadows on the road ahead, creating a tranquil ambiance within the car.

"We're about an hour out," Rin said, glancing back at the young men in the back seat. Okkotsu and Itadori, sensing the shift in mood, quieted down, their expressions mirroring the seriousness of the task ahead.

As the sleek black sports car approached Niigata, the atmosphere inside grew tense with anticipation. The city's skyline loomed closer, a mix of modern structures and historical buildings reflecting the complexity of their mission. Nanami's focus sharpened, and he began outlining their plan for the investigation.

"We're heading to the drug manufacturing facility first," Nanami said, his voice steady and authoritative, "It's managed by the Kamo clan, so we need to be prepared. They have a reputation for appearing cooperative but hiding crucial information beneath that façade."

Rin nodded, her eyes locked onto Nanami's, "Their courtesy can be deceiving. We'll need to be vigilant."

Nanami glanced briefly at the rearview mirror, catching Yuji Itadori’s eyes. "Itadori, Morishita and I will handle the official side of things, speaking with the leaders of the facility. Your task will be to sneak in and see what you can find beneath the surface. The Kamo clan might be eager to show us certain areas while keeping the real operation hidden."

Itadori nodded, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by a serious expression, "Understood, Nanami-san."

Rin turned in her seat to face Yuta Okkotsu, "Okkotsu, you'll join Itadori, please. Use your skills to help him uncover whatever they're hiding. Stay alert and watch each other's backs."

Yuta nodded firmly, "Got it. If needed, may I use Rika?"

Rin’s gaze softened slightly, understanding the gravity of releasing Rika, "Yes, you have my permission. Only if the situation demands it."

Yuta gave a determined nod, his resolve evident, "Thank you, ma'am."

As they entered Niigata, the car navigated through the bustling streets, drawing closer to the Kamo clan’s facility. The building stood imposing and guarded, its exterior blending seamlessly with the surrounding architecture but exuding an air of secrecy and danger. The distinct presence of curses was thick in the air surrounding the building.

Nanami parked the car a short distance away, in a spot concealed from direct view of the facility. "Remember, we need to maintain our cover. Morishita and I will present ourselves as we are, inquiring about the drug operations and the incident with Gojo. They'll be expecting us. Itadori, Okkotsu, wait for our signal before making your move," Nanami explained.

Rin adjusted her long dark brown hair, ensuring it was neat and composed, "We’ll handle the leaders. Keep in touch through the comms, and be careful."

Itadori and Okkotsu nodded, their expressions a mix of determination and readiness. The two young sorcerers exited the car and slipped into the shadows, moving with practiced stealth towards the facility.

Nanami paused, waiting for the two of them to disappear from sight before he turned to Rin. "Are you ready?" He asked.

"Yes," she answered with a nod, "Let's go."

Nanami and Rin stepped out, their demeanor poised and professional as they straightened their attire. As they approached the entrance, the guards eyed them warily.

"Good afternoon," Nanami said with a polite bow, "We've come to investigate the operations of this facility under the suggestion of Masamichi Yaga. A recent incident with Satoru Gojo has us interested in what exactly you're manufacturing here."

The guard glanced at his partner then back at Nanami. "Yes, sir. Please give me a moment while I contact the representative in charge today."

The interior of the facility was meticulously clean, with an air of clinical precision that belied its true purpose. They were greeted by a representative of the Kamo clan, who welcomed them with a courteous smile. The man wore a comfortable looking Yukata and his mask was pure white with splotches of red paint. "Welcome, esteemed guests. How can we assist you today?" He said, though the smile never reached his eyes.

Nanami responded with equal politeness, masking his suspicion, "We’re here to discuss your operations and ensure compliance with the regulations regarding cursed energy. The incident with Gojo caused quite the commotion and we are curious as to what exactly you've created here."

The representative nodded eagerly, gesturing for them to follow, "Of course, please, come this way. We’re always happy to share our methods and ensure transparency between the groups."

Meanwhile, Yuji and Yuta had slipped into the facility through a less guarded entrance, moving swiftly and quietly through the corridors. They exchanged quick, silent signals, covering each other as they navigated the maze-like interior. The many doors often lead to rooms that housed restrained cursed spirits or more horrifically held jars of unknown substances and cold storage with harvested curse blood or organs.

Itadori quietly closed a door behind him and waved his hand to get Okkotsu's attention as the latter did the same across the hall. Okkotsu held up his cellphone with photos of the inside of the room and Itadori pointed at him with a grin before he pulled out his own phone to begin taking photos. As they navigated deeper, the guards became more present and the two took to the shadows once again.

In the main part of the facility, Rin and Nanami continued their conversation with the Kamo clan representative, their polite façade masking the underlying tension. They probed gently, seeking to uncover inconsistencies in the information being presented.

"Are you certain the side effects of this substance aren't dangerous?" Rin asked, barely masking the grimace as she held the glass dish with a sample of the congealed black liquid, "Gojo and one of his companions who ingested it immediately lost control of themselves."

"Ah, yes but they were likely already on something else," the representative suggested, "We haven't tested it in combination with other illegal substances yet."

"Don't you think that's irresponsible?" Nanami asked, his eyes carefully watching Rin as she set the dish back down on the table.

"We need to offset the deficit from the manufacturing process," the man offered, "But we have taken those findings into consideration."

"And what of the curses that are expelled from the non-sorcerers who consume it?" Nanami asked, his eyes meeting the representative's gaze.

The man's expression darkened, but his smile never faded. He sat up straighter in his seat and placed his hands on his knees. "So you've seen that, have you?"

Back in the shadows, Itadori and Okkotsu stumbled upon a heavily secured door, its presence indicating something significant lay beyond. Okkotsu signaled to Itadori, who nodded in understanding. The guards posted by the door were armed, both of them wearing sorcerer masks as well. The masks were unfortunately plain black, leaving no hint of what kind of technique they may possess. Okkotsu caught Itadori’s eye and subtly pointed to his phone, then gestured for Itadori to check his own.

Itadori glanced at his phone and saw a message from Okkotsu: "I'll distract them, you go for the door and see what kind of security we need to bypass."

Itadori nodded in agreement, his expression serious. Okkotsu moved off silently, slipping into the shadows to create a distraction. Itadori waited, his muscles tensed and ready to spring into action. A moment later, a loud bang echoed through the facility, the sound of a steel pipe hitting the ground reverberating off the walls.

The two guards stationed by the door immediately reacted, rushing towards the source of the noise. Itadori took advantage of the distraction, darting to the now unguarded door. He inspected it quickly, noting the electronic passcode panel and the faint glow of a cursed technique barrier protecting it.

He pulled out his phone and snapped a few photos of the door, capturing the details of both the passcode system and the cursed barrier. His mind raced with potential ways to bypass the security, but he knew he needed more information and possibly assistance from the others.

Just as he finished taking the photos, he heard the guards returning, their footsteps echoing ominously in the corridor. Itadori quickly retreated to his hiding spot, blending into the shadows as he awaited Okkotsu's return.

Moments later, Okkotsu reappeared, his eyes scanning the area before he joined Itadori in their concealed spot. "What did you find?" he typed into his phone.

Itadori showed Okkotsu the photos on his phone and then typed, "The door has a passcode and a cursed technique barrier. We'll need to figure out how to bypass both."

Okkotsu studied the images, his brow furrowing in concentration. Okkotsu suggested the retreat for now and regroup and Yuji nodded. They moved silently back through the facility, their steps careful and deliberate. The atmosphere was tense, the weight of their mission pressing heavily upon them. Reaching a safe distance from the secured door, they found a discreet spot to contact Rin and Nanami.

Meanwhile, in the main part of the facility, Rin and Nanami continued their conversation with the Kamo clan representative.

"The cursed spirits being born of the substance is... Troubling. But we have taken steps to keep it out of non-sorcerer hands." The representative said, the tension in his voice was unmistakable.

"Yes, but how can you be sure?" Rin asked, "The incident with Gojo, for example, happened when a younger member gave it to him. The dealer didn't know it would be passed along. This kind of thing could easily end up in a non-sorcerer's hands this way."

"Yes, well, we would gladly take responsibility for such occurrences but it's unlikely to happen. After the incident with Gojo-san we have taken more precautions." The representative said dismissively.

Nanami’s phone vibrated softly in his pocket, and he excused himself briefly, stepping away to check the message from Yuta. His eyes flickered with understanding as he read the details, then he returned to Rin, whispering discreetly to her about the situation. Rin’s expression remained composed, though a flicker of concern passed through her caramel eyes. She nodded slightly.

"If you wouldn't mind," Nanami said calmly, "We will discuss this further with Yaga-san before we continue. Expect us to visit once again."

The representative nodded, standing up with Rin. He spouted some meaningless and polite words as he led them both to the exit. All exchanged goodbyes before Nanami and Rin returned to the car where Okkotsu and Itadori were waiting.

"Are we in the clear?" Nanami asked.

"Yes, sir. No one noticed us and we were careful to leave doors locked and closed." Itadori answered.

"Excellent work," Nanami said with a nod, "Now, about this door."

"Yes, sir," Itadori pulled out his phone and let Nanami look through the photos, "The passcode is likely around six digits and the curse on the door wasn't something I couldn't figure out. Sorry. I tried but it wasn't something I've seen before."

"Not a problem," Nanami said with a nod as he returned the phone, "It's not something you are proficient in anyway."

"Us either, unfortunately," Rin interjected, handing Okkotsu his phone back after taking her own look at the photos, "We'll need to come back, it seems."

"Let's get to the hotel for now," Nanami suggested, "We need to dress for the auction tonight."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

After a long day of investigation, the group returned to their hotel to prepare for the evening's event. In her room, Rin stood before a full-length mirror, her long dark brown hair slightly damp still from the shower around her shoulders. With practiced ease, she twisted her hair up into an elegant bun, securing it with a few pins. She then slipped into a stunning phthalo green dress that accentuated her graceful figure, the rich color bringing out the caramel tones of her eyes. Satisfied with her appearance, she allowed herself a moment to take a deep breath and center herself.

In his own room, Nanami was meticulously getting ready. He chose a black turtleneck that highlighted his broad shoulders and paired it with a tan blazer that gave him a sophisticated, yet approachable look. His outfit was completed with dark slacks and polished shoes, embodying his usual sense of understated elegance.

Meanwhile, Itadori and Okkotsu were in their shared room, struggling slightly with their attire. They wore button-up shirts and slacks, trying to achieve a level of formality they were not entirely accustomed to. Okkotsu adjusted his collar for what felt like the hundredth time, while Itadori fumbled with his tie, eventually opting to go without it.

Nanami knocked on their door and entered, taking a moment to assess their appearance. His keen eye for detail noted the minor imperfections in their outfits. "Stand still," he instructed, stepping forward to straighten Okkotsu’s collar and smooth out the wrinkles in Itadori's shirt.

"You both look presentable now," Nanami said with a nod of approval, "Remember, appearances matter tonight. We are representing the Yaga group as well as Tenjiku."

Itadori and Okkotsu nodded in understanding, and they followed him out into the hallway where they met Rin. Nanami’s eyes briefly lingered on her, appreciating the elegance and poise she radiated in her phthalo green dress. Rin’s calm demeanor and poised confidence were palpable, and Nanami felt a surge of quiet admiration for her.

"Shall we?" Rin asked, her voice steady and composed.

The group made their way to the auction venue, a lavish building adorned with opulent decor that masked the illicit activities taking place within its walls. Upon entering, they were greeted by the sight of elegantly dressed patrons mingling amidst "priceless" works of art. The soft murmur of conversation and the clinking of glasses created an atmosphere of refined elegance.

Nanami and Rin moved seamlessly through the crowd, their demeanor polished and unassuming. They exchanged pleasantries with other guests, subtly gathering information and observing the dynamics of the room. Itadori and Okkotsu, slightly less comfortable in such a setting, followed their lead, trying to appear as inconspicuous as possible.

Rin’s presence drew attention, her striking and recognizable appearance catching the eyes of several attendees. Yet, her composed demeanor and polite interactions kept any undue interest at bay.

"Ah, Miss Morishita," a well dressed foreign man in a gray tailored suit said as he approached her, "Long time no see." He was built strong and his dark wavy hair was slicked back. His thick mustache was carefully groomed and sported a few streaks of gray.

"Oh! My goodness, is that you Mr. Castillo?" Rin said with a gentle and pleasant laugh, "It has been quite some time."

"Yes! Not since me and the family came to visit two years ago!" Castillo chuckled, "My sons were quite taken with Tenjiku, as was I." He winked at her before taking a sip of his champagne. His eyes drifted to Nanami, his dark eyes narrowing slightly and lips pulling into a smirk.

"Kento Nanami," Nanami introduced himself, holding out his hand which Castillo took in a firm handshake.

"You're one of Yaga's boys, aren't you?" Castillo asked, "Last time I saw him I'd only met the long haired fellow. Aren't there three of you under him?"

"Geto, yes. He's very dependable," Nanami said politely, "Gojo is more free spirited, but the three of us work well together and keep everyone out of trouble."

"Speaking of trouble, messy business with that King of Curses," Castillo said, "What was that about?"

"Sukuna was a very old and dangerous sorcerer," Rin explained, "He'd discovered a way to reach us but he was quickly restrained and is currently sealed away safely."

"Elegant dodge of my question as usual," Castillo chuckled at Rin's wry smile, "But I understand. We all have our secrets." He paused for a moment before he asked, "I am aware though that one of your business partners was injured quite severely. How is she doing?"

"She's recovering quite well actually," Rin answered, "Though she will be affected for the rest of her life, she still lives and that's enough for now."

Nanami suddenly noticed something as it was going on. A loose strand of Rin's hair had grown and branched across to be held in Castillo's hand. He carefully watched the almost imperceptible tapping of Castillo's fingers and recognized Morse code. He couldn't catch the letters, not wanting to stare more than necessary and catch unwanted attention.

After short time, Castillo stepped back and Rin's hair slipped back and retracted. Nanami watched as Rin smiled at him and the two exchanged a few final pleasantries before she hooked her arm with his and led him to another art piece.

"Castillo is one of our larger donors," Rin explained softly, "I asked him for information about who is leading this auction. Get this: it's a medical group based in Malaysia."

"Really?" Nanami asked, "Then that certainly would explain the experimentation. Did he have any names maybe?"

"No, but he will send me their address. It's a long standing group that practices homeopathic cures only," Rin said, "Which, as awful as this sounds, means they're definitely up to no good. Nothing homeopathic only is able to stand on its own these days."

"Any mention of Q.N.?" Nanami asked, and as if on cue both Itadori and Okkotsu came by sporting a lovely flower on their shirt pocket.

"Oh!" Rin cooed, gently touching the white petals on the flower on Okkotsu's shirt, "How beautiful!"

Okkotsu beamed, "We helped a nice old woman who was going to her car. She gave them to us."

"Did she say what it was called?" Nanami asked, eyeing Rin as she admired the flower.

"Oh, something like... Night blooming something..." Itadori said, rubbing his chin, "Oh! The Queen of the Night she said."

Both Rin and Nanami stopped and immediately turned to each other.

"You don't suppose..." Rin's voice trailed off, waiting for Nanami to continue.

"Huh," Nanami pushed up his glasses, "Interesting. I suppose I've always wanted to visit Malaysia."

━─┉┈◈❖◈┈┉─━

Suguru Geto exhaled slowly, watching as the police officer he had been speaking with finally walked away, satisfied with Geto's assurances. The scene had been chaotic, a scuffle involving younger sorcerers that had spilled into local businesses, causing significant damage. Geto had arrived promptly, smoothing over the situation with practiced ease, offering compensation to the affected business owners and promising the police that he would handle the matter internally.

Hakari, Panda, and Inumaki stood nearby, their expressions a mix of guilt and defiance. As the officer disappeared from view, Geto turned his sharp gaze towards them, his eyes narrowing with barely contained anger.

"Follow me," he commanded, his voice cold and authoritative.

He led them into a nearby alley, the shadows providing a semblance of privacy. The moment they were alone, Geto's demeanor shifted dramatically. He moved with startling speed, grabbing Hakari by the collar and slamming him against the wall. The impact reverberated through the narrow space, and Hakari winced, but did not resist.

"What were you thinking?" Geto hissed, his face inches from Hakari's, "Why did you take it upon yourself to instigate fights with the Zen'in again?"

Hakari swallowed hard, trying to muster a response. "I... I'm sorry, Geto-san. It was a mistake," he managed.

Geto’s grip tightened, his knuckles white. "Sorry isn't good enough. This isn't the first time, Hakari. Why do you keep doing this?" He growled.

Hakari's eyes flickered with a mix of frustration and sadness, "It's because of Fumiya... I can't just let it go."

Geto’s expression darkened, a scowl forming on his face. He released Hakari abruptly, letting him slump against the wall. The mention of Fumiya’s death stirred a deep, unresolved frustration within him, but he couldn't allow that to excuse Hakari's reckless behavior.

"That’s not a reason to jeopardize everything we’re working for," Geto said, his voice low and harsh. "You need to think before you act, Hakari. Your actions have consequences, not just for you, but for everyone."

Hakari nodded, his head bowed in shame, "I understand. It won’t happen again."

Geto stepped back, his anger simmering but controlled. He glanced at Panda and Inumaki, who had remained silent but watchful throughout the confrontation. "The same goes for both of you. We need to stay focused and united. No more unnecessary fights, understood?" He snapped.

Panda and Inumaki nodded in unison, their expressions serious.

"Good," Geto said, his tone softening slightly. "Now let's get out of here before we attract any more attention."

As they left the alley, Geto’s thoughts lingered on Fumiya, the loss still clearly a raw wound for the younger sorcerers. Then of course there was the issue with Gojo still as well. The white haired man hadn't been stepping in to keep the peace with the boys as he promised to do, especially when he'd insisted he'd take up the mantle of mentor for the younger sorcerers in the group.

He walked away from the alley, frustration simmering just beneath the surface. The younger sorcerers had been acting increasingly rashly, and he knew he needed to address it with Gojo. Pulling out his phone, he dialed Gojo’s number, only to be met with the sound of endless ringing. No answer.

Geto sighed, a frown deepening the lines on his face. He had a strong suspicion about where Gojo was and who he was with. He dialed another number, this time calling Shimizu. The phone rang twice before it was answered, the background noise a clear indication of a lively and chaotic atmosphere.

“Hello?” Shimizu’s voice came through, slightly slurred.

“Shimizu, where are you and Gojo?” Geto asked, his tone edged with irritation.

There was a pause, then a breathy giggle from Shimizu, “We’re at Tenjiku. Why? What’s up?”

Geto pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling heavily, “I need to talk to Gojo. I’ll be there soon.”

“Sure, sure. We’ll be here,” Shimizu replied, clearly drunk and amused by the situation.

Geto ended the call and headed towards Tenjiku, his frustration mounting with each step. Upon arrival, he was greeted by the sight of revelry and indulgence. He pushed through the crowd, searching for Gojo and Shimizu.

Finally, he spotted them. Gojo was sprawled out on a plush couch, his head resting on a woman's lap. She was pouring alcohol from a bottle, letting it trickle through her exposed breasts as Gojo squeezed them together, laughing drunkenly. Shimizu sat nearby, equally intoxicated and watching the scene with a dopey grin.

Geto’s eyes narrowed in disapproval. He approached the group, his presence immediately drawing their attention. The woman looked up, startled, while Gojo’s laughter trailed off as he registered Geto’s stern expression.

“Suguru! Join the party!” Gojo slurred, raising his glass in a mock toast.

“We need to talk, Gojo,” Geto said, his voice firm. “Now.”

Gojo’s playful demeanor faltered slightly under Geto’s serious gaze and pointed use of his last name. He sat up, albeit unsteadily, and waved the woman away. “Alright, alright. What’s so urgent?” he slurred, blinking his eyes and trying to focus.

Geto gestured for Gojo to follow him, and Shimizu stumbled to his feet, joining them. They moved to a quieter corner of the establishment, away from prying eyes and ears.

“The younger sorcerers have still been acting recklessly,” Geto began, his tone calm but edged with frustration. “Hakari, Panda, and Inumaki got into a fight with the Zen'in again, causing a scene and damaging property. I had to smooth things over with the police and pay off business owners.”

Gojo’s expression turned serious, though the alcohol still dulled his features, “Why didn’t you just call me?”

“I did,” Geto replied, his voice tight. “You didn’t answer. I guessed you were with Shimizu, so I called him instead.”

Gojo winced slightly, the reality of the situation cutting through his inebriation, “Alright, alright. I’ll talk to them. It’s just... things have been intense lately. Everyone’s on edge.”

“That’s no excuse,” Geto said sharply, “We need to set an example. If we don’t, this kind of behavior will continue, and the consequences will only get worse.”

Gojo nodded, finally grasping the seriousness of the situation, “Yeah, yeah. You’re right. I’ll handle it.”

Geto’s expression softened slightly, “Just... be there for them, Gojo. They look up to you and things are dangerous right now.”

Gojo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah, I know. I get it. I’ll do better.”

Satisfied, Geto stepped back, “Alright. Let’s get you both out of here.”

He helped Shimizu to his feet and guided the two of them out of the establishment, their footsteps unsteady but moving in the right direction. Geto’s mind was already turning to the next steps when he glanced back and quickly realized Gojo's true intentions.

He noticed Gojo’s gaze drifting. Following his line of sight, Geto saw a group of high-ranking Zen'in  members at a table across the room with a group of women, their presence exuding power and arrogance. Gojo’s eyes lingered on them, a hard, calculating look in his usually carefree eyes.

Geto didn't comment immediately, choosing instead to keep that observation in mind. He knew Gojo’s tendencies, his protective nature towards the younger sorcerers, and his disdain for the Zen'in's elitism. If those Zen'in members turned up dead, Geto would have a strong case to make about who was responsible.

The walk back to their safe house was a quiet one, with Shimizu stumbling occasionally and Gojo lost in his thoughts. Geto kept a steady pace, ensuring they didn’t attract unwanted attention. Once they arrived, Geto helped Shimizu to a couch and turned his attention to Gojo, who seemed to have sobered up slightly.

“Satoru,” Geto began, choosing his words carefully, “I noticed you watching those Zen'in men back at Tenjiku. What’s going on?”

Gojo’s expression hardened briefly before he sighed, running a hand through his white hair, “I don’t trust them. I know we're sayin' what happened with Fumiya was an accident, but it's just not sitting right with me.”

Geto nodded, his suspicions confirmed, “I understand. But as I've said we can’t afford to act rashly. The repercussions could be severe. We're on the cusp of a gang war, and no one wants that.”

Gojo looked up, his blue eyes serious, “Yeah, I know. But I just need to know if they did it on purpose. Because there will be consequences if I find out.”

“I understand that,” Geto said, placing a hand on Gojo’s shoulder, “But we need to be strategic. We can’t let emotions dictate our actions. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

Gojo held Geto’s gaze for a long moment before nodding, “I promise. But I won’t let them hurt our own again.”

Geto gave a small, understanding nod, “Neither will I. We’ll handle this together.”

With that, Geto moved to check on Shimizu, who had dozed off on the couch. He covered him with a blanket, then turned back to Gojo, “Go sleep off that alcohol. I'll keep an eye on things.”

Gojo nodded again, his expression weary, “Yeah, you’re right. Thanks, Suguru.”

As Geto retreated to his own room, he couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling that this was just the beginning. The tension with the Zen'in group was slowly escalating, and he knew they would need to tread carefully to protect their own while navigating the dangerous politics.

The idea of another gang war made him nervous. The first time he'd been through one had been so awful and they were all so young. Yaga had done his best to protect the younger sorcerers back then and was only a lieutenant himself, but there was only so much he could do.

Losing Haibara and Koharu had been hard for all of them, so he knew how the young ones felt. But more worrying was how Gojo was reacting. It was almost like he wanted to let it happen. But, as long as Geto remained on his case he was sure that Gojo would behave. At least that's what he'd hoped for.

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[feastingonfanfiction]

Waiting on the red string of fate

Alt ending 4 (chapter 3e)

Tanya Denali x fem!reader

Chapter 3e: Found you in Flowerbeds

Summary: You were drinking, but Tanya finds you else where in the night.

A/N: it's been a bit. Hope life's been treating you well, dear readers. I struggled a bit to write out this one 3e, but here it is. Consider reading the warnings for this one if you haven't already.

Bon Appétit, happy readings of another serving of angst.

Read the other parts on the materlist menu

Or start here at part 1

Warnings: This chapter I should warn that though I didn't write any scenes of what happened to MC, you can draw assumptions that it falls under non-con murder death aspects. And if the idea of implied stuff like that upsets you, please do not read.

There's also the usual warnings of ANGST(you should expect it at this point), hanahaki that has its own set of warnings(choking on flowers, blood, etc), and character death.

Her fated POV

You were in a bar or nightclub or whatever in a city too big and lively to care, sitting at the bar you nurse your drink, one of many you've had this night. You're not sure you're happy with the amount you've been drinking since your travels started, but you discovered for some reason it felt like the alcohol fought off the flowers if just for a bit, as it took your mind off the pain of your heart, clearing the airway, but once the intoxicated effects wore off the plants would be back.

You were currently tipsy, and you were free from the pain that your heart had of thinking of your blonde soulmate with someone else somewhere off in the world.

Occasionally you'd chat your heart aches away with the bartender, but today it seemed people came up to you to chat, some creepy but thank god that they eventually went away, you did end up chatting with a blonde stranger equally as intoxicated as you, she was wonderful company, you wish you could fall in love with someone else, to move on, but the flowers were a clear indication that it wasn't possible.

Eventually, you had to head back, calling it a night and heading towards the door. This bar was within an alleyway, and your hotel was near one direction. Too intoxicated and unaware of the eyes on you.

You shouldn't have walked alone.

Tanya's POV

Following the string to a massive city, Tanya felt she was close. Something didn't feel right earlier in the night when she still had a couple of miles until she reached the city limits, the sense of wrong growing, causing her to quicken her pace. Something deeply unsettling sent a chill through her bones, screaming at her senses.

Once in the city, she walked on following the string. Moving past towering skyscrapers and office buildings, moving past hotels and back alleys with few people who traverse the nights passing by without a second glance, until she notices your string trailing down a dark alley. Following after it, she sees it enter a bar. Perhaps you were still there? she fixes up her appearance before going in, hoping to make the best impression she can when she meets you. Eyes scanning the surroundings when she enters and then back to looking at the string that connects to you, she walks through, but to no avail as the string heads back out the door. Her heart falls a little bit at that. She missed you, who knows how long since you'd been here. She quickly leaves and runs after the string. Perhaps you were nearby.

Your string led out of the city. This didn't make sense to her. As she walked farther and farther where woods started to form around her as she followed your string down the highway road. Eventually, your string stopped and turned into the woods. She looks over seeing fresh tire tracks, having recently pulled over who knows how long ago. We're you left behind? Perhaps you called a cab? Why are you going into the woods at this time of night? Perhaps you were going camping or had a cabin along the way? More questions were raised as she walked through the forest. The air had some parts floral notes whilst there were hints of...a coppery scent? It was very faint. Perhaps a hunter caught something.

As she walked further in, the road to you felt endless at this point of night. She hoped you were okay, that you chose something warm for this cold night.

It had been a long while of walking, and she can't help but speed up just a bit, her impatience to finally meet you mixed along with the worry for why you were out here.

She eventually sees a head of her your string stopping around the bend of a tree, finally is all she can think, readjusting her outfit whilst she walks, you hadn't made any sounds of movement and she was too focused on the moment.

Rounding the bend as her eyes follow her soulmate string, she stops. If she needed to breathe, she would feel like all the air had been stolen from her. As she looks, all she can see is her string leading directly into the earth.

She stands in front of a plot of earth to where her string leads her. Freshly disturbed dirt having been dug up from what it looks to be very recently, and out from the dirt came flowers where the coppery scent she noted earlier permeated the air.

Why did her string lead her to this flower bed...

Her string led directly into the dirt...

Her soulmate string led directly into this...

Tanya quickly rushes forward after a second to process this

Dropping to her knees, she digs with her hands, trying to dig away the clumps of dirt where your string led to.

Her whispers of no on repeat like a broken record, this can't be, please don't let it be is all she can think, hoping to whatever divine being is out there that it's not what she thinks it is.

Digging and digging until eventually her hands hit something squishy and not softened loose dirt texture, quickly working to unearth what she find, she finds a face with closed eyes, where the flowers had come up from where your mouth was.

She works to dig away all the dirt, slowly uncovering you.

She eventually removes enough that she's able to pull your upper torso to her in a sitting position.

Your clothing was disheveled, dirt caked your clothes and face, and trails of blood lead down your head. Trails also came down your chin where the flowers grew from.

Your arms show remnants of bruise from some altercation as your body goes through rigor mortis. Your scent strong, but there's some other scent, another persons all around you, someone hurt you, someone killed you and left you here hoping to hide what they had done.

It's subtle hidden beneath the floral and copper tones of the hanahaki.....

You have hanahaki....had.....

Had hanahaki...

Her heart hurts at the thought of you in the past tense, no more you around, the chance slipping through her fingers as she never had the chance to know you...

She goes back to the hanahaki to try and focus something else other than the fact that you are no more. Who could you have loved? Who did you love who didn't return your affections? How could they not? Despite the circumstance of finding your corpse, she still thought you were beautiful...

The thought that you loved someone else felt like a stab in her heart. She'll never get to hear that story or know you...

who are you? truly? Your name unknown to her, you were unknown to her, yet her lifeless heart couldn't help but break as it felt like a void has opened within it. You were gone, no goodbyes, no nothing.

Was the wrongness that screamed at her earlier in the night, you? Was the bond or the fates trying to get her to rush to you to save you?

She gently cradles you in her arms,

She didn't expect it to end like this

She expected to hug you, feeling your warmth perhaps in the comfort of what you both could have called home.

But now she holds you half buried in dirt, your body long gone cold.

Pain rips through her as she lets out anguished cries. She holds you for the rest of the night, tearless cries of pain, the only sound that can be heard in the silence of the forest.

As the day comes around, she takes you home.

She never did learn your name, no missing posters for you in that city, no identification, no wallet, all she could really call you was her soulmate.

Written on a gravestone not far from where you could've shared a home had she been quick enough. Had she looked for you earlier, she might've found you and saved you from this fate. She might actually have a name to utter when thinking of you. She might've shown you love so that the fate of hanahaki wouldn't have taken you.

She visits you often, often staring at the flowers that grew from the hanahaki, never seeming to go, a garden above your grave.

She did hunt down those of which who took you from her. The raging inferno of anger and vengeance called to her first and foremost, they took her soulmate, they took her soulmate.

she tore them apart for what they did. No mercy was shown for those who created this hole in her being, for she was now a soulmate without her other half.

The fates had tried to intervene in warnings, but they could not step in to save you from other variables, leaving a lone soulmate behind.

[wyrmst]

Something Borrowed (Part Twelve)

M Gargoyle x M Reader

PREVIOUS || STORY TAG

Wordcount: 9023

Content Warnings: Discussion of a Breakup, Drinking (Mild)

It’s been a while! This chapter was getting massive, so I decided to split it up as well. And it is still, somehow, massive. But it is here! Though this means I won’t be getting my baker’s dozen after all, boo. The rest of the story is dangerously close to finished, so no more months long gaps to come- at least not for this one, ha!

Why did you ever agree to this?

From the second you and Carlyle walk into the vestibule attached to the ballroom, all of your senses are assaulted from all sides.

Bright, shifting colors and light. Layers of voices over the loud music.The mingling scents of multiple perfumes all pooling together.

And while none of it is particularly garish on its own- it is an elven ceremony after all, so it’s all “tasteful”- as it turns out, layer upon layer of subtle things vying for attention are just as dominating, as if it was an average nightclub, just with old money set dressing. You’re unfazed by even the most bustling of Sunday mornings working a bakery storefront, but that’s nothing to this.

And of course, when it comes to overbearing experiences, nothing quite compares to the occasional glance from random elves judging the validity of your presence and barely withholding their sneers of contempt.

…You’re not going to survive this event much longer. Not without some social lubricant.

But just looking at the mass of people conglomerating around the middle of the room, between where you stand and the bar, makes you simply want to dissolve instead.

“Some happy hour, I barely see any smiles.” Carlyle smirks, even and strikingly unaffected by the noise and the chaos of the room, his focus fixed on you. “Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, I’d love one, but you’ll catch me swimming with sharks before I brave that crowd…”

“Understandable. Your chance of being bitten might actually be lower with the sharks.”

You snort out a laugh. A matron elf in a bedazzled set of robes shoots you a look of scorn as she passes by to your left. You think you recognize her- some second great aunt of Trevor’s or something, but you can’t be bothered to recall.

“You go ahead and I’ll find a spot for us to chat.” You say, voice barely raising above the oppressive, complex elven music, then mentally correct yourself: to hide.

“Are you sure about that?” Carlyle pats down his tie, clearly concerned with the prospect of leaving you on your own. “We can stick together, if you prefer- Wait until the crowd disperses a bit?”

“No, no. I’ll be fine, no need to make a fuss. I’m a grown man. You’ll only be gone for a few minutes!” You force a flippant laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears.

“What would you like to drink?  I’m sure they have champagne in stock, but I don’t know if I’d trust you with it just yet…”

You scoff in mock offense, playfully slapping the back of your hand against Carlyle’s torso, causing him to grin from ear to ear, fangs fully exposed. You can’t help but see the resemblance to his brother when he makes such an impishly amused face.

“Anything's fine. I trust your judgement.”

“Alright. I’ll be back soon.” Carlyle gives you a nod and a squeeze of the hand, and off he goes to brave the throng of people alone. At least he seems to blend in a bit easier than you do, despite being one of the only clearly non-elven guests in attendance…

You quickly realize the grave mistake you’ve made.

The onslaught of people just doesn’t end. None of them stop to talk to you, of course, but there’s just so many of them. Just how many guests did they even invite to this thing? This must be at least a quarter of a population of the entire high elven quarter of Windrise, at this rate…

You’d be content to stand here and look inconspicuous until Carlyle returns, and you do for several minutes, except for one thing. It’s impossible to miss the sight of your old friend group slide up to one of the nearby tables; far enough away that they haven’t noticed you yet, but close enough that they almost certainly will, and soon.

A jolt of panic grips your chest, thinking about seeing these people that for all intents and purposes abandoned you when you need friends the most, having to make small talk and act like none of that happened, and blithely comment on how funny life is that you’d end up here anyway!

And without Carlyle here to shield you from the worst of it with his charm?

No, thank you.

Swiftly deciding that won’t be on the agenda for tonight, your eyes dart around the room, looking for any out of the way corner that you can casually find your way to and avoid this incoming social trainwreck.

You finally spot an empty table, tucked in a corner and partially obscured by one of large winding tree limbs and the gauzy curtain draped over it. It might as well be a blanket fort, compared to the rest of the open battlefield of the chamber.

You slip behind the cover. Instantly and much to your chagrin, you realize that the table is already occupied, and the occupant was just hidden where they stand at the far side of the cocktail table.

It’s the orc that was sitting at the front of the ceremony with Devin’s parents, you realize.

They’re clad in a set of ornate elven robes, constructed of deep blue silk and intricate, sprawling gold embroidery fanning out from the chest and down the arms. Despite not often seeing this particular article of clothing on a person with their build, it’s extremely well tailored to their body, with a high neck and strategic cut-outs that accentuate their wide shoulders rather than working against them. The iridescent blue-purple feathers placed in their coiled updo and the dangling, rhomboid chandelier earrings seem to have been picked out with just as much thought.

The open faced style of the bottom of their robes reveals that they’re wearing stilettos- not that they need the height, as they’d easily tower over everyone else anyway- but you appreciate the dedication. But dear Lady, the height of those heels nearly makes you dizzy. You have no idea how they have managed to survive both the heels and the drooping train of the style of robes they wear. You silently say a prayer of thanks that you’re not socially expected to wear them, because you would absolutely have not made it into the venue without breaking your neck.

The dissonance between such a person and the rest of the guest list is certainly jarring, even when they’re wearing clothing that fits perfectly. At least you and Carlyle aren’t the only people sticking out like sore thumbs at this wedding. You hope your expression doesn’t betray the shock you’re feeling, because you’d hate to be rude.

“Oh, um. Hi.” You smile sheepishly and immediately start fidgeting with your cufflinks. “Sorry, I didn’t realize this table was taken. I was just…”

“Looking for a place to hide?” They give you a grim smirk.

“Guilty. I take it we’re on the same page?”

“Yep. I can’t be forced to socialize if I’m not visible. I’m Zelg.” The orc introduces themselves, and then reflexively adds, as if they’ve had to countless times already today: “Just Zelg. It’s not short for anything.”

“Nice to meet you, Zelg.” You smile and give your name, your customer service niceties unintentionally activating. “Your robes look stunning, by the way.”

“Pfft, they look perfectly nice, but honestly I don’t think they’re much worth the price tag or the discomfort.” You seem to have struck a chord, and they immediately launch into impassioned talk on the subject. The steeled facade you saw just a moment ago has completely vaporized. “Do you have any idea how hard it is to find an elven tailor willing to work with proportions that aren’t fit for a willow branch? The upcharge for fabric alone was absurd. Now your number, though? Classic, can’t go wrong with a slim fit suit, if suits are what you like to wear. No flashy lapels either, just let the tie do all the heavy lifting…” 

“You think so? That’s grand, because I’m quite fond of it.” They don’t need to know that this is your one and only suit and tie, for every occasion from funerals to weddings you don’t particularly want to attend.

“Ugh, listen to me ramble on about clothes. Curse of the trade, I guess.” Zelg sighs. “So, what do you do?”

“Baker. Wedding cakes.” You offer with a smile, sure they’ll put things together quickly.

“Oh! So like-” Zelg points towards a seemingly random direction that you assume must be the reception hall, turning a circle with one short, lacquered nail. “This wedding cake?”

“Hahah, yes. I made this wedding cake.” And you really hope you don’t witness it explode tonight. But again, you don’t feel the need to add that part- it would probably be bad or business.

“Interesting! I was looking at it when they were still setting up before the ceremony. I don’t really know what makes a wedding cake good, per say, but it looked like it took a lot of skill to make.”

“Ah, thanks. That’s very kind of you to say.”

“You know, I don’t recognize you at all, though. So, I imagine you’re here for the groom?”

“No, actually, Devin invited me. But I do know the groom very well.” Regrettably.

“Ah, figures. A friend of his, then? All of Dev’s friends now seem like they were his friends first...”

“Um. Not really.” You say, maybe a little bluntly. “Not anymore.”

“Oh. That’s… something.” Zelg’s eyebrows raise in clear interest. “That sounds complicated.”

“It’s a long story.” You sigh. It isn’t, not really; but boy, are you tired of repeating it. “He’s my ex-boyfr- well, ex fiance.”

“...I have to admit, that has certainly piqued attention.” Zelg swirls their glass, the single oversized ice cube in their drink clinking. “Do you mind if I pick your brain about him, a little bit? A few nosy questions? I haven’t had a lot of time to get to know him yet and I’d like some insight on who Devin’s gone and married.”

“Sure, why not? It couldn’t hurt.” You’re a bit unsure why they would have such burning questions about Trevor of all people, but it seems like an innocent enough request. “Though I’m probably pretty biased…”

Zelg immediately puts on a deadly serious front in the time it would take to snap their fingers, to the point you’re surprised they don’t whip out a pen and pad of paper out of their robes to take detailed notes.

“How long were you together?”

“Eight years, engaged for nearly the last year.”

“My, that’s a long time. I can’t imagine it was easy to extract yourself.” Zelg clicks their tongue in sympathy.

“No, it was a pretty long and difficult process.”

“Who ended things, then?”

“Him. …Well- Sort of?”

Zelg tilts their head at ‘sort of’, in silent curiosity.

“I came down with a love curse. He claimed he was ripping off the band-aid before we both got hurt.”

“I see. I’m sorry to hear that, it sounds like a painful memory.”

“I’ll admit, it’s not my favorite.”

“Stress does strange things to people. But before that, at least- Was he a good partner?”

You would’ve empathically replied yes to this question, right up until mere months ago.

You think about him being late for everything, regardless of how important it was to you or the other people around you. You think about him consistently putting what felt like anybody else ahead of you- or putting the band ahead of you. You think about him never being there for you when you needed him. You think about how many excuses you made for him, friends you lost for him, opportunities for happiness you passed up for him.

You sacrificed so much- and you don’t think he ever really cared that you did.

Or- giving him the benefit of the doubt- he never cared in a way that you needed.

“No.” You shake your head. “Not really.”

It’s cathartic to finally admit out loud, even if you’re being gently grilled about the failures of your love life.

“Well, he sounds like an absolute dream.” Zelg shakes their head in scorn and then lets out a beleaguered sigh. “I don’t like this. Not at all. Not after everything else.”

“Ah- Did something else happen?”

“Nothing I have receipts for. But supposedly, there was some sort of mix up with her side of the invitations. Something about Devin losing them.” Zelg furrows their eyebrows, bringing two fingers up to massage their temple, suddenly looking twice as intimidating as a scowl overtakes their severe features. “And she’s been having such trouble with that damn wedding planner and she’s too nice to put her foot down. Nothing’s been going right. Not a thing.”

“Now that you mention it, the planner did let slip that they had tried to hire a different baker entirely.”

“Personally, I don’t think any of it was an accident. It’s all very convenient.” They roll their eyes with a sigh. “She may be an airhead, but Devin wouldn’t lose something that important. …At least, not for more than a few hours…”

“That makes me really worry for her sake.” You shake your head. “Though in a way, I’m a bit relieved that I’m not just being paranoid. I thought I was just being sour about things since, you know. Groom being my ex, and all.”

“No, it’s not just you. I thought the same at first, that maybe he just wasn’t to my personal taste. But I don’t think that’s the case, unfortunately. It’s been bad vibes since day one.”

“Should we… I dunno, do something? It feels a bit wrong to sit here and gossip.”

“What can be done? The ceremony’s finished. It’s far too late to lodge a complaint now.”

A bit of a maudlin silence sets in. You’re both concerned for Devin, yet not really in a position to do anything about it- other than commiserate.

“Well, I know a good divorce lawyer.” You awkwardly blurt out after a few moments, then immediately wonder if the comment is too gouache to have even brought up mere minutes after the wedding. But Zelg doesn’t even seem to bat an eye, instead their face cracking into a huge grin as they let out a genuine laugh.

“Well, keep that in your back pocket. At least she seems happy for the moment. That’s really all we can ask for, right?”

“Right. And who knows? Maybe it’ll stay that way…” You say, forcing yourself to be optimistic that this relationship isn’t going to end up as much of a trainwreck as yours did.

Before you can continue your speculation, welcome company joins you.

“Oh, this is where you’re hiding.” As if summoned by you simply mentioning his existence a few moments ago, the divorce lawyer in question appears from around the corner, ducking his horns slightly under the shimmering fabric overhang so that they don’t snag. He’s carrying two drinks; a highball glass of amber liquid, and a blush-colored sparkling flute for you that he gestures for you to take. “I’ve been looking all over for you.”

“Oh, sorry- I wasn’t thinking. I stepped over here to get out of the way.” You graciously take the flute, your face burning slightly. You can feel the stupid, fond grin spreading on your face, and the burn becoming even worse when you realize how much of a lovestruck fool you probably look like in front of this person you’ve just met. “Thank you.”

You redirect your embarrassment by introducing Carlyle to your new acquaintance.

“Charmed.” Zelg returns the nicety, but their head quirks to the side, just a bit, interest clearly piqued.

“Is there something on my face?” Carlyle chuckles amicably, his tail swishing subtly behind him.

“No, nothing like that- I was just thinking you look familiar, is all…” Zelg seems to second guess for a moment before finally asking; “Do you perhaps work in… the service industry?”

“Nope. I’m a lawyer.”

“Is that right? I could have sworn I’ve seen your face before somewhere.”

“Hah, well. I do get that a lot. Comes with the territory when there’s two of them out there.” His smile is charming, as usual.

“Ah, right. Gargoyles. So I suppose your sibling is the one that works at The Diamond, then.”

“Oh, Marcus works at a restaurant?” You ask.

“Not exactly.” Carlyle says with a sheepish laugh, but uncharacteristically, does not seem ready to elaborate.

Ah. Maybe a bartender then…?

After a few more minutes of much more pleasant chatting than you expected to find at this reception, Zelg smiles around their gilded tusks, then looks down at their now empty glass.

“Thanks for the chat, but I’m going to need another one of these if I’m going to make it through the night.”

With your acknowledgement, Zelg departs with a wave, assumingly in the direction of the bar. 

“Well, can’t say I blame them.” You say with a laugh, before taking a long sip of your own drink.

When you set the champagne flute back down on the table, the smallest of the stone claws on Carlyle’s right hand playfully nudges your own.

“Hmm… It may be for the best to not indulge too much tonight.” 

“Oh? Why not? You quip with faux indignance and stroke his hand with your pinky in turn, as if you’re locked in a very gentle, very slow bout of inverted thumb wrestling. “Isn’t that what weddings are for?” 

Carlyle leans over, chin hovering just near your shoulder. The proximity makes the hairs on your neck stand up, and gooseflesh threatens to dot your forearms from the sudden thrill. He moves his other hand, slipping between your blazer and dress shirt, resting the hook of his thumb on the dip of your waist.

He whispers in your ear over the sound of whatever woodwind heavy elven song just started up- the music is so far away with him this close.

“You may want to be lucid later.”

Giddy excitement bubbles up in your chest. 

You doubt anyone would see you, tucked in a forgotten corner of the venue like this- and it’s not as if you’re doing anything particularly lewd, just a simple show of physical affection- but the level of emotion attached and the suggestion alone makes it feel far too intimate for a public space, you think.

You don’t need to see his face to see the smirk undoubtedly forming at your reaction. You want to pull him into a kiss by his collar and devour him, but you know the second you get too comfortable, you’ll end up getting spotted by the worst possible person. Instead, you simply let out a wistful sigh and press a quick peck to his firm cheek to tide you over.

The end of the night can’t come fast enough.

Luckily for you, a distraction appears, in the form of the mass of wedding guests beginning to slowly move like a group of herd animals. They’re all filtering through the large doors to the main ballroom where the reception proper is being held. 

You linger for a few minutes to avoid the rush, but then follow suit, though you immediately miss the reassuring feel of Carlyle’s hand on your side.

Somehow, the reception area has gotten even more ostentatious over the last few hours since you delivered the cake. The soft lighting has been adjusted to perfectly suit the later hour, causing the stained glass windows and the stemware dotting the tables to almost glow in response.

Reinvigorated by the scrap of physical affection to tide you over, you navigate through the crowd, looking for your assigned table. When you meet a bit of resistance getting across the ballroom, Carlyle takes the lead; for some reason, it seems that the oddity of a gargoyle parts the crowd easier just by the nature of being present than you could ever manage on your own.

You’re not the first to arrive at your table, with a set of three elves already settled in around the faintly glowing centerpiece. The pair of elves you easily identify as Devin’s parents, from their part in the ceremony earlier. From there, you come to the logical conclusion that the older elven woman is most likely Devin’s grandmother- the very same one that she’s brought back tea blends for you from the times she’s gone to visit.

“Oh! Hello!! Thank you for coming,” The younger of the two elven women exclaims, clasping her hands in excitement so that the fine bangles on her wrists clink together chaotically. She then introduces you to her husband and mother-in-law as you take your seats, confirming your assumptions. You introduce yourself and Carlyle in turn.

“It’s so lovely that some of Devie’s friends could make it!” Hearing Devin’s mother speak, you immediately know who her daughter takes after when it comes to her mannerisms. “How do you know Devie? How long have you known each other? Are you enjoying the reception? What did you think of the ceremony? How about-”

“Dear…” Her husband on the other hand, is much quieter and more reserved, his stoic behavior and clearly Rowenian accent reminding you a bit of your own father, if he had a much less stocky figure and lacked any hint of facial hair. That, and it’s hard to imagine your own father wearing his hair in a long, loose ponytail, the no-frills man that he is. “Maybe one question at a time.”

“Um- What do the two of you do for a living?” She finally settles on what seems to be an acceptable smalltalk question with a sheepish smile, after a moment of intense thought.

“I work in law, but I think my date’s profession is slightly more relevant here.” Carlyle speaks up first, softening the burden of conversation by giving you a lead in.

“I’m a baker. I actually made Devin’s cake.” You say, feeling a bit of deja vu, but wanting to preemptively answer the follow up question that you know is coming.

“Oh, so you're the mysterious baker friend! It's so nice to finally meet you!” Her mother’s face lights up in recognition. “Devie’s been sooooo excited about this cake!”

“Hahah, well I hope the product lives up to expectations, then.”

It takes considerable effort to not cringe, remembering what the wedding planner had said about Trevor’s family almost bullying Devin out of her first choice. You can’t help but think of what Zelg mentioned about the mix up with the invitations. If her parents know anything regarding why the total of Devin’s guests can fit at one standard table with space left over to spare when the rest of ballroom is filled with Trevor’s guests and Devin herself is a social butterfly, they’re acting convincingly unfazed. Though, knowing Devin herself, you get the feeling that perhaps they are just genuinely blissfully unaware.

“Oh, I’m sure it will, love. It looks positively scrumptious.” Devin’s grandmother chips in with a grin, smile lines visible at the corners of her mouth.

“Doesn’t it?! And it’s so pretty and so tall! I don’t know how you manage something like that without magic!”

“It’s impressive just how talented he is.” 

“He really is! I couldn’t dream of making such a nice cake- Oh, oh! Do you remember, honey?” Devin’s mom laughs gleefully, tapping her husband’s arm until he nods, before turning her attention back to you to clue you in. “One year, for Devie’s birthday when she was still small, I tried to make her a showstopper cake like that. It was supposed to be the skirt of a big poofy princess dress, but when I was decorating it, the whole thing caved in!! It was a disaster!”

“Oh no.” You try to stop yourself from troubleshooting out loud, but you can’t help yourself- Probably didn’t add enough support, but perhaps didn’t let it cool long enough before… “I hope you were able to fix it. That sounds tragic.”

“It was!! I was a blubbering mess- but it turned out in the end. That year we made cake pops instead, hehe!”

“Bless her though, she was just as excited about cake pops as a proper princess cake.” Her grandmother’s accent isn’t quite from the same region that you’re from, but it’s close enough to be making you just a bit homesick.

As you’re conversing, a newly familiar face approaches the table.

“Hello again.” Zelg nods to you and Carlyle, then takes a seat next to Devin’s grandmother, whom… pats their hand affectionately before taking it in her own to hold…?

“There you are, love. Where have you been hiding all this time?”

“Just getting some air, Gran. Had a nice chat with these two for a bit during cocktail hour.” They tilt their head in your direction, their statement earrings wobbling with the movement.

Gran? Oh, then…

With that, the realization that Zelg is Devin’s sibling hits you like a truck. Devin’s never mentioned a sibling before- but then again, neither have you, so perhaps it’s just never come up yet.

“Oh, you’re already acquainted then? How nice.”

“Sweetie, listen, hehe- we were just talking about the year we had emergency cake pops for your sister’s birthday! Do you remember?”

“Ah. Of course I do. How could I forget? I came home from school and it looked like a cake had exploded in the kitchen…” Zelg snorts punitively, but is clearly smiling at the memory. You try to keep from turning as white as a sheet at the unintentionally cutting choice of phrase. 

“At least your pick that year went smoothly.” Their father adds. “Can’t go wrong with a nice figgy pudding...”

It’s not long after Zelg appears that dinner service starts, with impeccably dressed and masked elven waitstaff begin delivering the salad course, plated on flawless, iridescent old-era Aurelian crystal. You vaguely consider just how much money your ex-future-in-laws wasted on things that neither Trevor nor Devin likely care about… at least it's not a concern you have to have for yourself any more. 

Devin’s mother and grandmother are an art teacher and a sculptrix, respectively, so the conversation has shifted from the artistry aspect of baking to more simply art itself as a profession.

Carlyle has begun to gradually bear more of the weight of social interaction; judging by the way he softly grips your thigh under the table, you have to assume he’s noticed you steadily grow more weary as the night goes on.

“So, you said you work in law, was it, dearie?”

“Yes. I started out as a defense attorney but I shifted to family law a few years ago.”

“Oh, a lawyer! I should’ve married a lawyer when I had the chance. Lock him down while you can.” Grandmother says with a wily grin and winks at you, causing Carlyle to chuckle so forcefully that the bite he had balancing on his fork tines falls back onto the plate.

“Mother…” Devin’s father chides his mother, but it’s barely audible over Zelg trying not to snort into their drink in amusement.

“That’s such a hard job! I don’t think I could ever handle it, hehe… I hope us prattling on about paints and clay hasn’t seemed too frivolous!”

“Honestly, it’s much more interesting hearing people talk about art than to talk about legal paperwork, anyway. Even I can admit that it’s boring at times.”

“Ah, do you two bake together then? Or do you have any creative hobbies of your own…? It’s soooo important to have room to express yourself, even as a grown-up.”

“Hmm… I suppose you could consider some of my hobbies creative. I technically make 3d models, in a way…” He’s talking about making builds in that game he likes, and it makes a warm feeling settle in your chest to think about. Then you have to force yourself to keep a straight face when he glances at you and adds, “Oh, and macrame.”

“Macrame! That’s just fantastic. Not enough young people appreciate textile art…”

“Hehe, I’m glad to hear it. It makes sense for Devie's friends with other creatives- It runs in the family on both sides. Between me and her grandmother, she and her sibling have been in studios since they were little!”

“Ah, right. Devin’s a ceramics artist, as well isn’t she? I haven’t had the chance to see much of her work yet.”

“Yes!! Don’t worry, I have a buuunch of pictures!” Her mother pulls up her device, scrolling through pictures of Devin’s pottery with a dainty finger. “She’s so good with clay, just like her grandmother!”

“Mmhmm. She’s been a natural since she was just a wee sprog.”

“Wow, these are beautiful. You must be very proud.” Carlyle adds, looking genuinely impressed by the images he’s being shown. You of course already know how talented Devin is, but it’s always nice to see her getting acknowledgement.

“We are. Of both of them.” Devin’s grandmother coos like a content mother hen.

“Oh, oh! You know, our Zelg is in the arts, as well! They’re a very accomplished designer. This one’s a dress they were making that they sent me a picture of the other day-”

“Mother…” Zelg sighs in exasperation, echoing their father’s reaction from moments ago.

“Hehe, don’t be so bashful, honey! You’re too talented to be so humble!”

“Well then, it sounds like the whole family is creatively inclined. What field is dad in?”

“Ah, nothing very creative about my work.”

“Oh, that’s not true, dearie. It takes an eye to lay out a bee yard for form and function.”

“Ah. Beekeeping? That does sound interesting. I didn’t realize there was enough space to keep bees so close to the city.”

“Species I keep don’t need all that much space to work their magic, they’re bred to be homebodies,” Her father begins to explain. He’s been quiet as a mouse up until now, but seems to have been stoked into discussion, given the topic. “Put a couple artificial ley lines down on the land and they know to stay put. Now it’s the ones from southerly like that you need to worry about wandering…”

Within a few minutes, Carlyle has instigated a full spiel about the finer points of beekeeping from him, because as it turns out, he runs an award-winning apiary. You somehow have a new contact for locally sourced honey by the time the main course comes.

Conversation over the rest of dinner flows easily, thanks to Carlyle taking most of the burden from you. You're sure you look as smitten as you feel, watching him draw information out of people in such an effortless way. He has a way of making people feel like talking, you observe, and shows genuine interest in what they have to say. You’re nearly able to forget all of the baggage around the event and just enjoy the exorbitantly overpriced meal in pleasant company.

Just as the meal is winding down, the bride and groom themselves approach the table. Devin is pulling- though to you, it looks a bit like dragging, if you’re honest- her new husband by the hand behind her.

Devin greets her family briefly, then turns her attention to you as her mother and grandmother zone in their attention on Trevor.

“Oh, thank you for staying for the party!” Devin borderline squeals your name as she squeezes you in a tight hug. “The cake looks sooooo pretty!!! It’s like something out of a fairytale, gosh!”

“I’m glad you like it.” You laugh.

You thought the dress robes looked uncharacteristic on her before from a distance, but now seeing her up close, it’s even more jarring seeing the lines of her features and shape made so sleek and forcibly flattened, when you’re used to seeing her clad in soft and voluminous shapes, her form usually gobbled up in chunky cardigans and fluttery bangs.

“Ah, and this must be your boyfriend!” Devin leans down and smothers Carlyle in a hug too, before he even has the chance to object, causing a deep, surprised chuckle to escape his chest. “It’s so good to meet you!!”

“Nice to meet you too Devin, I've heard a lot of good things about you.” He says over her shoulder, patting her gently on the back before she releases him. “Congratulations.”

“Yeah, congrats! The ceremony was beautiful.” You chime in. “And you look stunning in your robes, as well.”

“Oh, thank you!! You’re too sweet!” Devin has moved to casually snake her arm around her sibling’s shoulders. “I was thinking about a short dress before, but then Pookie’s parents offered to pay for the tailoring- wasn’t that just so nice of them? …I didn’t think I’d be able to walk in it at first, but I um… got the hang of it now. I think?”

“The short dress would’ve suited you better.” Zelg says matter-of-factly; though they get their opinion in, they’re obviously restraining themselves from saying more out of love for Devin.

“Oh hush,” She pats Zelg’s shoulder. “It was like, less work for you and stuff this way, right…?”

“Trevor, honey, you’ve already met this lovely baker too, haven’t you?” Devin’s mom says, clearly trying to be a good hostess, despite her lack of awareness of your shared history. “At the tasting?”

“...Yeah.” Trevor finally looks over, completely unimpressed. “We know each other.”

“Oh, yeah, Mom- They already know each other. They used to date, but they’re still friends! Isn’t that like, the coolest thing?”

“How nice!! You must be good friends, then! How long were you two together?”

“It was a while.” Trevor says nonchalantly with a shrug. You choose to not specify either if he’s not, silently willing the conversation to go in another direction- any other direction.

Luckily for you, you have a wonderful man accompanying you that is more than happy to run interference.

“We haven’t had a chance to meet yet,” Carlyle says, extending a clawed hand out to him with a polite smile. “I’m Carlyle.”

The forced half-smile on Trevor’s face contorts into a wince for the briefest of moments while his hand is within Carlyle’s stoney grasp.

“Uh… Charmed.” Trevor retracts his hand, subtly shaking it out after he’s returned it to his side.

“So, I hear you’re in a band?”

“Yeah. Guitar. Some synth.”

“Interesting. Do you have any albums out? My brother has some friends in the scene, maybe I’ve heard of you.”

“Just LPs…” Trevor barely conceals a scoff. “I don’t think you’ve heard of us, dude.”

“Ah, more of a local thing, then? Well, touring probably isn’t everything…”

“Nah.”

“Aw, Pookie, don’t be shy! Go ahead and tell him more about it, you should be proud of your work!”

Trevor simply shrugs, head slightly tipped back in silent opposition to this whole interaction. You’re pretty sure the only thing keeping him from fully rolling his eyes is the fact that he is at his own wedding- and therefore, his mother could be watching him for bad behavior.

“They have a standing gig at one of the coffee shops downtown.” Devin says proudly. “They have so many regulars. They’re a real hidden gem!”

“Hey, that’s great. Doing what you love while making a living is the dream, right?”

“The money doesn’t matter to me.” Trevor says the words in a way that makes it sound like he doesn’t care, but you clearly see a telltale twitch of the muscle around the corner of his mouth- a small expression that you’ve had the years of experience to learn is a sign he’s getting beyond irritated. 

“Oh, good for you. I’m sure many artists would love to be in the position to not have to worry about whether it’s lucrative or not.”

To everyone else at the table, you’re sure this comes across as perfectly civil chitchat. At least to most everyone- you did see Zelg’s eyebrows covertly raise at that last comment, just slightly.

While you’re content to not say anything more to Trevor than you need to, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying watching your ex prickle at Carlyle’s subtle needling. 

“Isn’t it? We’re soooo blessed to both be doing what we love.” Devin chimes in, ray of sunshine that she is. “Pookie’s been making music for so long, I don’t know what he’d do without it!”

“Well, certainly no reason to give up on something you care about. You wouldn’t want to abandon something you’ve put some much time, care and hope into- Only a fool would do that.”

“...I’m not planning on it.” Trevor says, barely keeping the latent sneer from infecting his features. “Not everyone wants to wear a suit every day.”

“Of course not. Some people aren’t exactly suited to it, either.” Carlyle verbally parries that attempt at a dig in perfect form, not even a hint of irritation on his face or in his voice. Perfectly charming, even in this circumstance.

The pun is a particularly harsh blow, Devin’s mother and grandmother both chittering in amusement. Carlyle lets the motherly types take over the lead with the conversation, though you doubt their fussing over Trevor is to quite the same effect as his attention was.

“Oh, look, they’re getting along so well!” Devin says to you in such a soggily sentimental way, hand placed at her collarbone. You don’t have the heart to correct her- no need to burst her bubble if she hasn’t caught on herself yet. 

Maybe it’s petty- but you are absolutely basking in the experience, a warm, viscous sense of vindication in your chest. 

“They sure are.”

“And you didn’t tell me your boyfriend was so, like, handsome too, hehe!” Devin half-giggles, half-whispers to you, tugging the edge of her long robe sleeve. “It’s like… meeting an actor, or something!”

“Hah, well I’m sure he’d be pleased to hear that.” You say, barely holding back a bout of laughter at the pure absurdity of the situation you’re sitting in.

“Ooo, when we get back from our honeymoon, we’ll have to go on a double date!” She exclaims happily, squeezing your forearm in excitement. “There’s a new microwinery that opened over by the old arts district! I heard the building used to be an old shoe factory! Won’t that be, like, soooo fun??”

“Oh, absolutely. That sounds lovely.” You already know that Trevor will conveniently be busy whenever Devin tries to plan that, but it is flattering that she wants to spend more time together.

Before long, the lights above the dance floor change to a soft, shifting pattern of pastel colors, and the background music slows to a soft ballad. A nerve of anxiety is plucked within you, knowing what’s coming. A disembodied voice announces it’s time for the first dance. Or, at least you think it does, as they’re speaking in that same incredibly stuffy, archaic dialect of Elvish from the ceremony. You conclude you were correct, seeing as the bride and groom make their way out onto the dance floor.

You manage to keep a thin smile plastered on your face for the duration of the song. This is helped immensely by the fact that Carlyle offers his hand to you halfway through. Your smile eases a bit into a more genuine one, grounded by the smooth sensation of his polished stoneskin palm on your fingertips.

The first dance concludes as the song ends, and the disembodied voice returns to add that the dance floor is now open to guests. Surprisingly, the same musicians from the ceremony that have been providing the music for the reception also have some modern songs in their repertoire, too. It doesn’t sound half bad, as far as discordant genres of sound and instrument are concerned.

Devin's grandmother might be the very first person on their feet after the announcement, briefly trying (and failing) to persuade her other grandchild to join her on the dance floor. After Zelg’s clear disinterest in the activity, she relents, then hits the floor on her own with an impressive fleetness that does not suit her age at all.

“Come on, dear-” Devin’s mother follows the example moments later, laughing while dragging her sheepish, yet compliant husband to the dance floor with her.

“That was quite the show.” Zelg chuckles to themselves now that it’s just the three of you at the table, directing their focus in Carlyle’s direction.

“Oh? I hope it wasn’t too obvious. I’d hate to come off as rude to a groom at his own wedding.”

“Nope. I don’t think anyone else noticed. But boy, was he squirming… Nothing that he didn’t have coming, from the sound of it.”

Carlyle tries not to look pleased with himself, but simply nods in acknowledgement, in turn making you smile.

“Did I hear that right, Zelg? You were supposed to make Devin’s dress…?”

“Ugh, yeah. You heard right. I had already sketched a design when they pulled the same nonsense that it sounds like they tried with the cake.”

“I’m sorry. That’s awful.”

“At least they didn’t get their way on something… Just thinking about it makes me want to drink five more of these.”

Zelg excuses themselves once again at that point, grumbling a lament about how weak elven liquor is before heading in the direction of the open bar.

“Speaking of clothes, I’m a bit surprised to see the couple still in robes,” Carlyle observes after you have the table to yourselves. “Most of the weddings I’ve been to with traditional wear, they tend to change into an easier second look for the party.”

“His parents probably had to resort to extortion to get him into those robes in the first place.” You laugh mirthlessly, staring down at your unbiased, empty dinner plate. “The man couldn’t be bothered to put on formal dress for anything short of a visit from the Queen herself. ” 

“Is that right?” He chuckles, clearly trying to not look so pleased with your scathing commentary.

“It is. Lady knows I could never get the man into anything nicer than a shirt with minimal holes, even for important occasions. I think our worst fight was over it, even...”

Carlyle simply tilts his head to indicate he’s listening, waiting for you to continue.

“It was a funeral, Carlyle. His grandfather’s funeral. And he couldn’t be buggered to put on a tie. I’d understand if it was a robes only affair, but the dress code said either. And Trevor was about to go in tatty joggers. I thought maybe it was because he was so sad about it he couldn’t bring himself to get dressed, but no… Just didn’t want to. Told me he thought it was stupid to dress up for a dead man.” 

“So, I have to ask… Did he actually go like that?”

“No. After much strife and him getting his mother involved… He wore the tie, in the end.” You recall the victory, unfondly. It ended up a pyrrhic victory in the end, like a lot of things did for you during that relationship.

“Hmm.”

You’re quiet for a moment, sifting through the bad memories like you’re mentally panning for gold, but only coming up with jagged, unpleasant scrap.

“It… wasn’t really about the tie, I think.” You finally conclude after some thought, your voice nearly hoarse and croaky with regret, barely registering above the music.

“It rarely ever is.” Carlyle replies, an almost weary knowingness to his words, as he's fighting the urge to sigh. “At least not in my line of work. It's never an ill-timed comment or a sink full of dishes alone- Or even an argument about a tie. Most often, it’s ages of little things, built up. Then eventually, one last little thing is all it takes to break the dam wide open, and everything else comes rushing out.”

“I think you may be right... In the beginning, he was so charming. Still is. He’s just so good at making you feel like he thinks you’re important. Like you’re special for someone like him paying attention to you. But… He never called first when we were dating. Never remembered any occasion unless I reminded him. Never wanted to go meet my parents because the trip overseas would be too much of a hassle. Never prioritized my feelings on anything. Literally left me when I needed him to be there for me for once-” You can feel yourself working up to the edge of ranting, barely managing to reel yourself back in. You cradle your chin in your hand in an effort not to gnaw all your nails off. “Why bother with any of it if you don’t actually care?“

“At the end of the day, you can’t make someone care.”

“I should’ve known it wasn’t going to work out, then. I was so stupid to just keep… holding on for so long. Carrying on like things were fine...”

“In my opinion, you’re being much too hard on yourself. Of course things seem clear when you’re on the other side of them- It’s an unfortunate side effect of hindsight being 20/20.” Carlyle squeezes your hand affectionately, letting his touch linger there. “But stupid? No.”

You manage a sad smile, but the gloom that’s settled in is hard to shake that easily.

You’ve mulled over your failed relationship for so long, assuming there could have been a way to save it, if you had just done something different, just tried harder. But you’re finally coming around to realize it wasn’t worth saving in the first place.

All that wasted time…

You think that just maybe, you may have run out of strong feelings to have on this topic- the seemingly unending well of sadness inside you that you once thought you’d eventually drown in, now finally dried up, and only emptiness and a watermark on the stone left.

“Hey, you know what I think you need? A distraction.” Carlyle punctuates the query with another gentle squeeze, and carefully rises from the table. Then, he extends a clawed, stony handy out towards you. “May I have this dance?”

“Hah- Oh, I dunno…” It’s very tempting, but you don’t exactly feel like dancing right now. “Tempting offer, but I might suck all the fun right out of the dance floor.”

“So what, you’re going to come to a wedding and not dance?” Carlyle teases you, then adds with a quirk of a grin; “And pass up the chance to experience my special occasion only dance moves? Who knows how long it will be until you get that chance again.”

“Well, when you put it like that, how could I say no?” You can’t help but chortle as you let yourself be brought to your feet.

Carlyle takes your hand and gently, yet firmly, leads you out onto the dance floor. Blessedly, he doesn’t take you to the center. At first, you stand there awkwardly, he encourages you to loosen up by example- and judging by his movements, that means alternatively flailing your arms and legs in a swinging twist of limbs that somehow manages to still look incredibly smooth.

You just try your best to keep up- not really caring that you’re likely the only ones in the ballroom dancing with this much enthusiasm.

After a song or two, you‘re swept up in the energy and laughing like an idiot, making it hard to catch your breath. You like to think you’re fairly in shape, working on your feet all day- but you’re getting winded at an alarming rate, trying to keep up with him.

Mercifully, after several rounds of non-stop movement, the tempo transitions back to something slower and softer. You come to a halt, gasping for breath, while Carlyle gracefully comes to a stop at your side, waiting for you to no longer be doubled over.

“You weren’t lying about them being special-” You finally manage to gasp, taking a moment to suck down some ample gulps of air into your lungs. You’ve grown to enjoy the activity enough that now you wish it didn’t have to end, despite how loud dancing is making your heart pound in your ears. “Were you, then?”

“I don’t make a habit of lying.” Carlyle’s hand hovers at your waist as he waits in an open invitation for you to turn into the embrace. “The cardio has to be for something, hmm?”

After a moment of rethinking your footing, you eagerly take position, still letting out an errant giggle here and there. His other hand idles to the side until you put your own palm in his grasp, making a clumsy guess at the appropriate way to position it.

Carlyle’s touch is warm and comforting on your lower back as he leads, gently rocking you in a slow circle around your informally designated area of the dance floor. You’re a bit surprised with how adept he is at dancing- despite you coming dangerously close to stepping on his toes multiple times and him being literally made of stone, his body is loose and relaxed, exuding as much confidence in his steps as in his hold on you.

It could be the setting making you sentimental, but you can’t help but compare what you have now with how things could have been.

It’s a dizzying thought- If things had gone the way you had planned them to, you would be married to Trevor right now. You never would have even had the chance to even meet Carlyle, let alone fall head over heels like this. You would’ve never known how much better things could be- how good just being with someone could make you feel.

You could have lost your chance at this completely. You could have continued to be stubborn, kept him firmly pushed away, and stayed too wrapped up in your own fear of what would happen if things went wrong again, that you cheated yourself out of that chance of happiness before it could really start.

You didn’t really want Trevor exactly, it finally dawns on you.

You wanted the wedding.

You’ve been such a fool- but you’re so glad that you didn’t get what you wanted in the end. You hum in appreciation and lay your head on Carlyle’s shoulder and let it rest there for the rest of the song.

The song winds down over its coda, your hands travel down from shoulder height, fingers slipping between the lapels of his suit jacket to straighten the soft fabric of your date’s tie. Your eyes run over the subtle texture of watermarked stone on his skin, and the coarse marks left from the sanded down crystal spines along his jaw, the spot on his upper lip that you just know a cheeky fang is hiding behind, up to lock in on his dark, richly brown eyes. You draw out the motion as long as you reasonably can. 

You expect the music to transition to yet another slow song, but as the last few notes linger, the announcer returns to inform guests that it’s time for the dessert course to be served. The dance floor slowly becomes still. Some guests return to their tables, while others move to stand at the fringes of the room to watch the cake be cut. You and Carlyle occupy the latter category; you select a spot near the side doors, just in case you need to make a quick getaway.

You’ve dreaded this more than anything else this whole night. If things were going to go sideways, this would be the time… You try to calm yourself as well as you can, fidgeting to self-soothe as you watch the attendants preparing cutlery.

Finally, the wedding couple is armed with a very expensive looking crystal cake knife, the side of the tool primed to cut through the layers of buttercream, jam and cake.

You wince, screwing your eyes closed. Carlyle squeezes your hand in reassurance- firm enough to ground you but still considerate of his strength and gentle enough to not be uncomfortable.

You wait for the pop, or the wet sound of frosting splattering the pristine venue, or a horrified chorus of gasps from the assembled crowd.

But… 

Nothing happens.

Just the darkness of your closed eyes and the joyous sounds of the reception going on around you.

You open your eyes, and simply watch as things, going as planned-

Then out of nowhere, a sudden POP-

You nearly jump straight out of your skin. An embarrassingly high pitched yelp emanates from deep in your chest. Flight or fight begins to kick in- but you quickly find the culprit to be one of the attendants opening a bottle of champagne nearby.

You find yourself chuckling at your own overblown reaction, palm flat on your chest in an attempt to calm your racing heartbeat. The feeling of Carlyle’s fingers laced in yours help to calm you, more than you could manage on your own. Several nearby guests are looking at you or whispering to each other now, but you can’t bring yourself to care, turning your attention back towards the product of your labor.

Not to pat yourself on the back too much, but your work looks beautiful even after sitting in the reception hall for hours at this point. The cut is clean, like a slice prepared for a magazine shoot.

The rest of the custom goes off without a hitch. Bride and groom exchange bites of cake. It’s all very pretty and perfectly orchestrated, and you’re sure the pictures will look flawless. No one even smashes cake in the other’s face, as you’ve seen so many times before.

No mistakes. No accidents. No unforeseen tragedy.

No exploded cake.

“Nothing…” You say aloud in quiet disbelief, the words taking their time pushing past your teeth. “...Happened?”

“Nothing happened.” Carlyle confirms with a smile.

“Nothing happened!” You say once more, this time with giddy confidence.

You squeeze Carlyle’s hand in glee, the solid stone unyielding under your fingertips. 

Then, you give his hand a tug and nod your head towards the side doors.

>> ✨ MASTERLIST

[penwieldingdreamer]

Brewing Storm - San Diego

Hey and welcome to a new day of "I have too many ideas and too little time to get it done." 😀

This is a new project that came up thanks to @none-of-your-bullshit and her cool idea to pair Jake Seresin with a NCIS!Reader. This is the first installment of I don't have a plan yet how many parts 🤭 Reader is non-descriptive and Y/N but I'll make sure to not use it or use Candy occasionally. Let me know what you think. If you want to be tagged in future chapters follow the link.

Have fun and happy reading ❤️

Thank you to @fortheloveoffanfic @ladyelissarose and @missathlete31 for being my betas

Warnings: 18+ in future chapters, MDNI, canon violence, mentions of injuries, fighting, drug trafficking

Y/N "Candy" Gibbs, former FBI Agent, gets sent to the San Diego office helping to clean up some older cases that had been tracked all the way up to Washington. What she didn't expect was to meet a cocky pilot that wasn't just trying to get into her pants but was in serious trouble with a capital T after he and Andrew Caine witnessed a drug deal at the base gone wrong.

Masterlist | Next

Part 1 - San Diego 

“So, Candy, how’s the California guys treating you?” Nick Torres asked with a grin, as they had their usual zoom dinner chat. Ellie shook her head and McGee had to swallow the retort that was about to leave his lips, thankful for using his headphones. No way was he going to say something with Gibbs sitting at his desk across from him while the other two were lounging at home having fun.

Chuckling at your fellow agent and friend you shook your head, before you held up your phone and turned around. One of the agents of the San Diego office had decided to take you to the Hard Deck, a bar most of the Navy personnel frequented. “I’m not complaining, the weather is great and I’ve seen the Navy men around here without a shirt on more often than not.”

“Shut up!” Ellie’s mouth hung open and you could practically see the light shining in her eyes. “I’ll be sure to send in a transfer to SoCal, can’t let you drool over them all by yourself.”

Laughing softly, your expression turned serious again. "I miss you guys already. This assignment is taking too fucking long."

"Don't worry, you'll have to bear our antics sooner than you'd like and you'd be happy to be back with the FBI instead of the Navy team catching the bad guys." Torres winked at you, taking a big bite of his burger and you already knew why you were happy to not have him sit next to you. Ellie scrunched up her nose at his behavior and shook her head, mumbling men loud enough for him to gasp around his food.

"Gibbs will make sure you guys behave, he did it before I joined the FBI."

"Yes, and I'll do it well after." His usual hard look softened as his gaze fell upon your face over McGee's.

"Hey Uncle G, hope the rascals are keeping out of trouble up in Washington." You cackled loudly at the way their faces scrunched up and the eyebrow raise you got from the three agents. 

Your uncle grinned, knowing they couldn't tell a lot about the last days without you at the Navy Yard and how many bad moods their boss had been in since you weren't there to calm him down. "How's the West Coast treating you, Candy darl'? Hopefully no premature Navy men trying to get in your pants."

"Never Uncle G." You told him, your voice sounding confident but over the bar top you saw the one person that made it hard for you to sleep at night.

Lieutenant Jake Seresin.

Not because you were occupied in the horizontal tango - no, not at all, but the Naval aviator had been coming to the Hard Deck like clockwork with or without his fellow pilots ever since you showed up that first day with your fellow agents. He would come to the bar, trying to buy you a drink at least three times during his stay, but each time you declined.

His eyes found yours from across the room. The Lieutenant looked good in his Khakis, his hair in his usual backcombed style. If Ellie saw you, she'd probably tell you, you were drooling.

The clearing of a throat pulled you out of your thoughts, your uncle giving you the side eye. “No men, huh?”

“Oh come on, you sound like I should be in a convent.”

“A convent? No, according to your mother, a different country is more like it.” He told you, but you weren’t sure if he was joking or not.

Shaking your head you grinned at your boss and family. "It's not like that, Gibbs. I just happen to be here in Fightertown and not to mention the Army vs Navy football game coming up."

"Oh, are you going to watch it?" Ellie asked, earning an eye roll from Torres as he knew what his partner was getting at.

"Actually we'll be helping with security. Jason and Andrew are part of the referee team and Lucille, Connor and I will be posing as a security team at the entrance."

Shaking his head, your uncle removed himself from his perch, knowing you wouldn't elaborate on the things that were happening down in Southern California. "Just stay safe over there or I'll come and get you back here all by my lonesome."

"Don't you worry, Uncle G. Nothing will happen, I promise.”

Ellie winked at you, telling you in a silent way to not do anything she wouldn’t do while Torres just rolled his eyes and McGee’s reaction was barely visible. Finally telling them goodbye you ended the call and returned to the drink in front of you.

Unbeknownst to you your nightly nemesis kept glancing your way a few times during his pool game with his fellow aviator. 

“You going to try that maneuver again with her or keep silently praying to whoever will listen that she’ll give you the time of the day?” The dark skinned pilot joked, watching his friend lining up his shot and to the shock of all that knew him failed to make it.

Closing his eyes, Jake took a deep breath. You had been on his mind constantly - at night, during the day, even in his head while he was soaring above the clouds. “I don’t think she’ll ever say yes. I tried all my moves and she said No. Got to stop before it gets embarrassing.”

Javy snorted, leaning against his cue. “Never thought the great Hangman was a quitter.”

“Shut up, Machado.” He grumbled, finally getting the shot right. Straightening up, he turned back towards the bar where you had been sitting all night. The way you smiled down at the screen of your phone made his insides flutter, a feeling that only being airborne could give him. 

Maybe - maybe he would have to think up a new maneuver to succeed in this mission. 

Yeah, he’d start on a new strategy tomorrow. Most important point of the battle plan - don’t be the dick that left others hanging, or he’d be the one to be hung out to dry.

Tagging:

@none-of-your-bullshit @fortheloveoffanfic @ladyelissarose @missathlete31 @chipendenspook1997 @mayhemmanaged

[dfortrafalgar]

Holy Cow

Okay I usually don't care too much about follower counts, but this blog as gone CRAZY since I started it and I haven't been more excited. I've seriously enjoyed writing for you all, the good and the bad, and chatting with the occasional reply and ask! I seriously feel like I haven't enjoyed writing this much since both beginning to write one piece fanfic and starting this blog. This community is so wonderful and friendly and I'm so happy to have been able to share my silly little fics with everyone. So with that...

THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS!!!!!!!

I seriously wasn't planning anything, but I had a shower thought. To celebrate, I'm going to have you guys pick the next character I write a fic for. I'm not sure yet if it will be multi-chapter or a one-off, but regardless, I'm holding a vote!

THIS IS NOT AN APRIL FOOLS JOKE BTW 😭😭😭 (/srs)

[lostcerise]

𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨 [artem]

now he’s thinking ‘bout me every night oh isn’t that sweet? i guess so. say you can’t sleep, baby, i know that’s that me espresso. 

she’s his morning coffee and addiction—an obsession he can’t live without.

cw: none. no spoilers.

“artem! jeremy asked me out for dinner and i need you to—” 

don’t you think it’s strange? a spoon ground against the edge of a cup, the gritting noise repetitive but slow. nothing out of the ordinary in an office pantry of themis law firm. nothing strange if it weren’t for the empty cup that artem had been absentmindedly stirring for the past nine minutes.

“hey! are you listening? what are you spacing out for?” came celestine’s chirpy tone that he almost jumped out of surprise. “you look so out of it. have you even had your morning coffee?”

no, she’s not around.

 

luckily artem caught himself before he almost admits that out loud. even while in the office pantry, his eyes wander occasionally to the work area of the junior partners, hoping and praying that he’d catch a glimpse of her.

one look was all he needed. just one look. a single glimpse.

but unfortunately his caffeine fix was nowhere to be found.

“well, you should. it’s not like you to keep spacing out like this.”

“i haven’t,” artem replies before celestine starts having any funny ideas that conspire about his non-existent romantic life. 

artem pours his coffee, knowing better than to deign that comment with a reply. when you’re in the field long enough, lawyers know what word could lead to another. right now, he’s not in the mood to continue this conversation—especially without his caffeine fix. celestine knows that, so she decided to be on her merry way before artem’s bitter expression turns acrid like his overbrewed coffee.

he almost sighs in relief when he hears her footsteps receding. almost. before she even takes a couple steps ahead, she pauses for a moment to add an afterthought to their morning chat.

“you have a coffee machine in your office.”

well shit. 

looks like nothing can escape the shrewd eyes of a woman in a relationship flourishing with romance. her short chuckle rings in his ear like a passing fly, fixing a bitter frown on his face. looks like he already had his fair share of a bitter tonic to rile him up.

at least his trip to the pantry wasn’t all for naught. taking the already cooled cup of stale coffee with him, he felt a little bit more rejuvenated on the way back. maybe he should consider making his morning coffee in the pantry a regular part of his routine.

luckily, his frown curled upside down just a teeny tiny bit when you appeared in the corner of his eye, sitting on your desk and primed to tackle the mountain of new cases on your desk.

end.

reading notes:

inspired by artem's blossom chapters and stellis interactions (he's such a whipped man) but before the events of the last chapter of episode 1.

wondered what it would be like if he did this regularly.

yes, this is also inspired by sabrina carpenter's espresso. but in this case, artem is the one who can't stop thinking about you that he's developed an addiction on par with his caffeine intake.

celestine best wingman fr

©𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐜𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞 @ 𝐭𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐥𝐫.𝐜𝐨𝐦