#hi i've been really on my multi the past few days

[from-the-clouds]

lost in the fire - kendall roy x f!reader

| masterlist | succession sideblog: @kendollroyco | my kendall playlist

chapter summary: your boyfriend works too much. a oneshot, but if we're being real, i was thinking about kendall and the reader from thinking of a place, because i miss them. pairing: kendall roy x f!reader words: 4.6k warnings: SMUT (18+ only). soft dom Kendall. Somewhat unhealthy/jealous/co-dependent relationship but this is a Succession fic so like…what do we expect? Alcohol consumption - I don't know what Kendall's definition of sobriety is but he drinks a cocktail in this. a/n: i'll get back to tlou but i've had this partially written for like a year at this point. It started out as more of a manic Ken on a power trip type of fic but then it got really soft and fluffy because I am feeling touch-deprived lately so I’m sorry if I didn’t deliver enough evil ken for ya’ll. :/ OOPS!

**ALSO! I got rid of my taglist. Please follow @ftcwriting and turn on notifs if you would like to be notified when I update my works :) **

"We're like the Lewis and Clark of fucking." - Kendall Roy

Teetering down the hallway, you attempt to quell the outrageously loud click, click, click of your stilettos against the marble floor by shifting most of your weight into the ball of your feet and shuffling forward. It only makes it harder for you to balance while you attempt to put on the flashy gold hoop earrings your friend had insisted you’d wear. Of course, being quiet didn’t really matter, because you were the only person inhabiting the Hudson Yards penthouse. 

As usual, you are running late. Famously, you always underestimate how long it will take to get ready for social events – your friends could attest to that. It is a bad habit that, despite years of trying to correct, you can never quite shake. 

Beelining for the double doors of the multi-million dollar home, you are interrupted by your name being called out in a sing-songy voice. There is a blur of movement out of the corner of your eye, and you turn towards the familiar sound to find your boyfriend rounding the corner, a drink in hand.

The sight of him at home is rare these days, that for a second, you aren’t even sure if it’s really him. Maybe the place is being  haunted by an eerily similar lookalike, or it could be some new ridiculous billionaire technology that he’d invested in– holographic messaging, or something similarly dystopian that you’d roll your eyes at when he tries to explain it to you. It’s fuckin’ next level, I’m telling you. I’m a fucking tech pioneer. You can practically hear him trying to sell you on it despite your distaste.

“Ken?” you cling to the clutch under your arm, unable to stop the shit-eating grin that works its way onto your face. “Hey. When did you get home?”

“Hey yourself,” he answers, poorly hiding a bemused smirk behind Baccarat crystal. “I just got in.”

That much was clear, even though his briefcase and coat had already been cleared away from the table in the entranceway, and his suit jacket draped over the back of a barstool. “Are you going out?” He lowers the tumbler and leans against the counter, but still keeps it close, one finger sliding along the rim. 

“Yeah,” you approach Kendall cautiously. “...did you get my text? I thought I’d get ready here, we’re going to that place around the corner.”

He’d given you a key to his flat, even though the relationship was still pretty new – but decidedly not that new, given your history. Things were still moving quickly though, if you compare him to your past flings.

Kendall’s eyes close briefly in recognition, his brows pulling together as though he is scolding himself. “Oh, uh-huh, yeah….right.” It’s then, and in closing the space between you, that his haggard appearance becomes clear. You’re one of few who would probably even notice it. To the untrained eye his white dress shirt is impeccable, crisp and stark as usual – save for the lack of cufflinks, which you notice he’s discarded on the counter alongside his drink. His tie is still fastened tightly around his neck in a perfect half-Windsor. But salt and pepper stubble is sprinkled across his jawline, faint red hazy in the whites of his amber eyes. 

Work has consumed him in the last few weeks. It’s been nonstop. And he is still home earlier than you have expected, even though the sun had gone down long ago.

Kendall’s hand wraps around your waist and you lean against him, accepting his affectionate peck on the cheek. “Hey, honey.” The cedar notes of his cologne, the acidity of the vodka on his breath, and the weight of his arm around you makes your stomach flip, even as he draws back, releasing you so he can sit on a barstool. It’s probably for the better, as the impulse to throw yourself into his arms and abandon your plans will become impossible to resist if you don’t leave soon.

It would be a lie to say his career hasn’t put a strain on things lately. Business trips, dinner meetings, weekend conventions all seem determined to keep him away from you. For the past few weeks, you’ve been deprived of him, forced to accept only minutes of his time – mostly sweet nothings and apologies whispered as falls into bed beside you, then presses of his lips on your cheek, still half-asleep in the early hours of the morning as he leaves the next day. You have been forced to savor those moments, even though they are hardly substantial. But you know yourself, you aren’t better off with someone else. He has always been what you wanted.

Still, lately you have been thinking about all his failed past relationships. There is certainly a…pattern. You’ve seen enough, and sometimes it feels like you are purposely ignoring the signs – Watch Your Step!, before falling into a pit of daggers. 

He needed a break or he’d burn out, but you’ve learned when to bite your tongue and save those suggestions for when you are sure they won’t erupt. And you both aren’t always good at keeping arguments good-natured. 

Kendall shifts in his chair so he can look you up and down – this time up close. “Is this what you’re wearing out?”

“Uhhhh, yeah,” you answer hesitantly, feeling your face heat up. 

“Turn around,” his resting facial expression is already kind of indignant, but you can tell right now that he’s definitely frowning. 

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says. “I want to see.”

You shrug, but obey, unable to hide the way your lips quirk when you are back facing him again, hands on your hips. All you have to do is read the look on Kendall’s face to know that he doesn’t approve. And even though there is no way in hell you are going to change, the slight blaze in his narrowed eyes makes you think this is about to become a controversy. 

“Do you have a problem?” you ask, feigning innocence, glancing down at the getup. The red dress barely covers your ass – is far more revealing than anything you’d normally wear, accompanied by stiletto heels that lace up your calves. Sure, it’s a lot, but you look good, and you’re going out. 

“You’ll definitely be getting a lot of attention,” he conveniently doesn’t answer your question.

If you weren’t wearing lipstick, you would’ve bit your lower lip to keep your composure. Instead, you tilt your head and give him a coy smile. “You should come with me.” 

Kendall glances down at the countertop and shakes his head, the comment causing him to drop the subject of your attire entirely. “I can’t. I’ve got a meeting first thing.” To be fair, he avoids the club scene most of the time, so it’s not a well-thought-out offer. Too much temptation. “But you look good,” he concedes. 

“A work meeting on a Saturday?” you ask, ignoring the compliment. “Fuck,” you reach to take a sip from his tumbler. The vodka he keeps here is always chilled to perfection, so smooth it tastes like it’s melting off a glacier. “It’s that bad?”

He takes the beverage from your hand when you return it, shrugging before throwing the rest back, then standing to pour another. “Just the usual, la-dee-fuckin-dah….corporate bullshit.”

You frown and stare at your shoes, flexing your foot and inspecting its soles.

“Those heels don’t look very comfortable,” he remarks as he passes you.

“They aren’t.”

“Well then I’ll guess I’ll have to take you shopping to replace them.”

You feel yourself flush. “Let me know when you can fit me in your schedule.” 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall ignores your jab, changes the subject. “How’s your job?”

“Same as yours. La-dee-fuckin’-dah corporate bullshit,” you repeat his words from earlier, lowering your voice slightly to mimic his cadence of speaking. 

The sound of his warm chuckle makes your stomach flip again. “You want me to, uh, pour you one?”

“No, I should probably get going.” You sigh, pulling out your phone to text your friends that you are running behind, and you hear the clink of ice against crystal.

Then, his voice, deep and husky, directly against your ear. “Who’re you texting?”

You jolt in surprise at his sudden proximity.  “Fuck! Sorry,” you clear your throat. “Uh….the group chat.”

Kendall’s arm reaches past you to place his drink on the counter, and you feel his fingertips brush the hair away from the nape of your neck. Then, his lips follow, pressing there gently, his thumb trailing down your arm and then back up again. You shiver at the contact, and it dawns on you how touch-deprived you are.

“Pretty girl,” he murmurs against sensitive skin. His hands land on your shoulders and begin to knead at the taut muscles there. You try to keep yourself tense, even as you feel your phone slipping out of your hands, the drafted text all-but forgotten.

But instinctually, you shift backwards to feel the weight of his chest pressed against you.“You’re all wound up,” Almost chastising. Every part of your body below your bellybutton clenches. It’s those hands, his hands. Hands that used to wrap around your throat, thread into your hair, hold your wrists in place. Pin you down, spread you open…. While you think about them, you let him work at the tension that he is partially responsible for, nodding and letting out a long exhale.

“Just a little.”

“When are you gonna quit that job?” he asks you.

You first, you want to say, but let the retort die before it could leave your mouth. “Hmmmmm,” you pretend to mull it over, but you’re only half-aware of things he’s saying to you. “I don’t know.” 

“What kind of uh, feminist would I be if I let a girl as hot as fucking you have to worry about a job?”

You can’t help but snort, turning your head so his forehead bumps against your own. “Is that how feminism works?” 

“Uh-huh,” he chides, breath tickling the shell of your ear. “Fucking whatever. I wish you’d just let me look after you.”

You are unable to find your voice to answer, because you remember through your needy haze that you are running late, and when he says things like that, it certainly doesn’t help you regain composure. It’s only after you straighten, trying to pull yourself out of the trance he’s worked you into, that you discover how close he has pinned you to the countertop.

“Ken-” you try to protest, but the way it comes out sounds more like you’re pleading.

“What is it?” Kendall asks, returning his lips once more to your neck, beginning to work them tenderly up the column of your throat, which makes it impossible for you to finish the rest of the objection. “I’ve missed you so much,” he pulls you back against him by your waist.

“Me too,” you sigh. “But I-,” you’re cut off when he grinds against you, already half-hard, and your pelvis hits the granite lip of the countertop. It hurts, just for a second, but the pain is quickly replaced by warmth. Kendall pulls his hands away and you’re only held in place by his hips, the metal of his belt buckle cool against your sacrum. The dress you’re wearing is so thin it feels like there’s nothing separating him from your bare skin. 

“You what?” he prompts when you remain silent. You know him well enough to hear the self-satisfied smirk on his face, and his nails rake up and down your arms.

It’s a little petty, but you are hesitant to give yourself over so easily to him. To abandon your evening, just because he’s finally decided to see you at a reasonable hour. Of course, if your friends knew you were late because you were with him, they wouldn’t care. Kendall had been a well-kept secret until it was impossible to deny his existence in your life. But they were all a little too supportive of the relationship, since it meant they suddenly had guaranteed access to any club VIP section - and you perpetually pick up the bill. Not to mention the first-class, luxury accommodations they get on girls trips. 

There was more to it than just being late, though. You had always been willing to do anything for him, even before you were dating. He told you to jump, you asked how far? He gave you one pleading look from underneath those thick lashes – and you folded. And Kendall is very aware that he’s your weakness. So you constantly try to convince him otherwise, lest he get too comfortable. And really, after his neglectful behavior, did he really deserve you without any opposition?

“Kendall,” you manage to turn slightly. “I’m going to be late.” Wriggling some more in his grip, but it’s only enough to bring you face-to-face, looking up into his stormy eyes. 

He studies you carefully, like he might let you leave if he senses enough conviction. “I don’t care.”

You might’ve laughed, if it weren’t for how stern he sounds. It almost scares you. Almost. Hoping to soften him, you fit your thumb into the dimpled fabric of his tie, and use it to drag him forward, offering a tender kiss on his cheek. Returning the embrace, his stubble scratches your face as he smiles against you. He reaches behind you for another sip of his drink and his unoccupied hand slides down your back, squeezing your ass through the silky fabric. 

You are burning, fire licking up your arms, your neck, your face. It’s too much, to have him so close and not be able to have him. All the tension building with nowhere for it to go. When he pulls back, you lean forward.

It’s a little rough at first, because you are so desperate, tasting the vodka, drawing his bottom lip between your teeth. Kendall is the one who softens you, cradles your jaw to draw you closer, opens his mouth and deepens the kiss, so deliberate and practiced that you’re unable to speak when he pulls away. 

“Tell me something,” full lips so close to yours that they brush your own when he speaks, your eyes fluttering shut. His touch coasts up your sides, up your arms, landing on your shoulders. “Who are you showing off for in this?” Kendall hooks his pointed finger around a spaghetti strap of your dress, and lets the elastic snap back against your skin. You savor the sting it leaves behind.

Admittedly, there’s a third reason why you’re being so withholding. He’s so spoiled, so used to getting what he wants, whenever he wants it. Not just from you. And when he doesn’t get it, he becomes petulant, fiery. You’ve learned that if you piss him off just enough, you don’t have to ask him to fuck you within an inch of your life. He just does. 

So, you decide to poke the sleeping bear, shrugging and crossing your arms like it’s nothing, giving him a demure smile. “You wouldn’t know him.”

Kendall’s nostrils flare as his hand rises to grip your jaw – tightly. “Uh-huh.” Even if you’re only joking, the very idea of you dressing up at all – let alone like that –  for anyone except himself, pisses him off.  “Fuck you.”

“You’d like to, wouldn’t you?” you try to keep your voice even, but it sort of loses the steadiness you were hoping for when he hooks a finger behind your knee, dragging it up across the expensive, soft wool of his slacks to peg around his hip.

The bruising kiss that answers is clearly intended to erase the smug look on your face, and it works – your breath hitching, the hand on his tie tugging him closer. Kendall seems to speak without saying anything at all, grabbing your opposite thigh and lifting until you are perched on the edge of the countertop.

It’s getting real, but you still haven’t decided if you are actually going to stick around. The way he looks right now, however, swings the pendulum farther into the side of staying in – red lipstick left behind on his cheek, shirt wrinkled, tie hanging loosely around his neck. You wanted to make him look even more wrecked. 

Kissing him again, his hands begin to roam, tugging the dress off your shoulders and freeing your tits. “Shit,” He dips his head to sloppily mouthing at the newly exposed skin. “Knew you weren’t wearing a fuckin’ bra.”

“Ken,” you squirm when he latches onto one of your nipples, pinching the other between two fingers. “I really need to get going.”

“Not yet,” he hums, the vibration of his voice against your skin makes the space between your legs ache. “If you’re going to go out in this fucking dress,  I don’t want you to forget who you belong to.”

You squirm in his grip – not because you want to get away from him – but because you want to see if he’ll pin you in place, be even rougher. He does. He is. “Stop that. This isn’t a fucking negotiation.”

Well, okay.

He kneads into your thighs now, one of his hands dipping beneath the skirt of your dress that’s already so short he’s only an inch or so away from your already-soaked panties. 

“Fuck,” You tilt your head back to look at the ceiling, like you might find some self-control there, some will to resist him, but it’s about as cold and uninspiring as the rest of the apartment. “Please.”

Kendall lets out a dark chuckle,  pushing aside your thong and brushing his knuckles against your damp cunt. He loves to tease, and right now is no exception. His touch isn’t enough to satisfy, so you press yourself forward to seek it out yourself. You don’t dare meet his eyes, which you can feel are watching you intently, admiring how you keen and arch and whimper in frustration. Still, you aren’t quite ready to beg. 

Thankfully, you don’t have to. Without warning, he pushes two fingers inside you, groaning as he does, his thumb finding your clit.

“Yes, Kendall, that’s–” you don’t finish the thought because you aren’t entirely sure what you actually have to say. His digits curl, attentive, practiced – tuned in to  exactly what you like, what you need.  You grip at the fabric of his shirt that’s bunched around his elbows. Despite how intense meeting his gaze right now will be, you turn to look at him anyway, surprised by the affection and warmth you find in his eyes. 

“You try so hard not to be,” he says while he continues to stare you down. “But you’re always so fucking good for me.”

Your stomach flips, partly in shame, partly because of how good it’s always felt to be seen by him. Throbbing around him, feeling your pleasure build, but he withdraws his fingers from you before it can crest. An embarrassing noise leaves you, squeezing your eyes shut. 

The clink of his belt unbuckling immediately snaps you back to reality, and you hike your dress further up your hips, shimmying out of your thong. It’s pitiful, the way you don’t want to delay any longer the feeling of him inside you. 

He strokes himself in his hand, lines his cock up, and pushes a piece of hair off your face. 

“You want me?” he asks, and you bob your head enthusiastically. “Tell me, then.”

“I want you, Kendall. Please, I want you so bad.” 

“Yeah you do,” he mutters, and wastes no time jerking forward to enter you. 

Though you’d had him plenty of times you never could quite get used to the feeling – he’s big, of course, and it’s always electric, the blood in your veins buzzing, your hands tightening on his shoulders. 

“Relax, honey,” Kendall says, feeling the way your body tenses at the intrusion, placing a hand on your sacrum, one between your shoulder blades to steady you.

He presses his hips forward until they are flush against your own, bottoming out inside you, pausing. It’s welcome at first, a chance to catch your breath, to let out a shuddery exhale - temporarily appeased by the way your cunt stretches to accommodate him, and he’s so close to you after so much time spent away. You’re embarrassed at how badly you’ve needed this, how reliant on him you’ve become, but he always feels so good. 

Kendall stays still for long enough that you grow frustrated, and you use his tie to pull him closer, loosening the knot and rutting against him until he presses his thumb into the crease of your hip and thigh so hard you are forced to stop. Once you do, he starts to move, thrusts slow but deep, lips pressing hastily between panting breaths. 

“Fuck, it’s been too long,” he laments.

Despite everything, you can’t help but talk back. “You don’t say?”

Kendall doesn’t like that at all, his hips snapping at a punishing pace, which seems more like a reward than anything else, his hand clasping your jaw roughly, forcing you to look at him. 

“Don’t speak to me like that,’ he warns.

An involuntary, low moan leaves you. It’s overwhelming – always is. You aren’t used to sex with someone you feel so connected to, or with a lover who is so attentive to your needs, who effortlessly strikes a perfect balance between rough, passionate, and tender. 

You wrap your legs around his waist, fingers fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, anxious to run your hands through the smattering of hair on his chest, feel the warmth of his skin under your palms. Even if it’s not possible, you want to be closer to him. Needy. So needy. You’ve heard it from him before, and would probably hear it again. He is right, and in moments like this, you can never bring yourself to care. You like it.

He’s watching you so intently, and the rest of the city might as well be too. He basically lives in a fishbowl, you’re surrounded by windows that offer panoramic views of the glittering lights of the city. The only reason you have any privacy at all is because of just how high up you are, no one else can actually see you right now. Even if they did, what could possibly happen? Kendall loves to take advantage of this – he’s taken you up against the cold glass windows, has let you sink to your knees in front of him out on his balcony. 

“What are you gonna tell your friends when they ask why you were so late tonight?” he asks. “Gonna tell them you were letting me spread you open on the fucking counter?”

“God,” you stutter out, always shocked by the things that come out of his mouth when takes you like this, voice deep and firm, enunciating each syllable like he’s giving a speech – frustratingly collected. It makes you ache that much more. “I missed you,” you whimper, pulling his shirt off his shoulders. As much as you want it fully off, not just hanging loose around his elbows, you don’t want him to release you from the bruising hold he’s got you in. This would have to do. 

“Uh-huh,” Kendall answers by fucking into you even harder, his pelvic bone kissing your clit with every thrust, and your nails etching crescents into his biceps. “I know. I’m sorry.” 

His head falls to your shoulder in a brief moment of humility, lips working on your neck, and you feel your release fast approaching. In moments like these, you don’t doubt how he really feels. He gives it all away, tries his best to make it up to you, and it’s so easy to forgive him.  Kendall’s fist wraps around one of the stiletto heels of your shoes, lifting your leg to hook over his shoulder and drive his cock deeper into you. He’s perfect, feels perfect, there’s no one else who makes you feel the way he does. When his thumb begins to rub delicate circles around your clit, you’re gone.

Your body tenses up for so long, you actually think you might’ve psyched yourself out. And then everything releases. Kendall coaxes you through your orgasm, deep voice muttering things that are either unintelligible or that you wouldn’t dare to repeat out loud, and you cling to him while your cunt pulses in waves. It lasts for a long time, or at least it feels like it does, he slows just to fuck you through it, so you can both savor how good it feels. That’s it. That’s my good fucking girl. When he tries to kiss you, you oblige, but it’s open-mouthed and sloppy since you’re struggling to breathe and can’t stop whispering his name. 

“Ken, you’re so good, it’s so good–”

You know he likes to be praised just as much as you do. He cuts you off with a deep kiss, moaning into your mouth and vibrating every nerve in your body as he follows you over the edge, spurred on by your own release. He buries his cock inside you as deep as he can, you feel warm and full and complete. 

For what feels like a few minutes, you remain tangled with one another, his face buried in the crook of your neck. You can feel the soft puffs of his breathing against your skin, which is now damp.

Eventually, he draws back, kisses your cheek and tucks himself back into his underwear. You pull the straps of your dress back into place and when you push yourself off the counter, realize your legs are trembling and you wobble.

Kendall reaches to steady you. “Go sit down,” he squeezes your arm and you barely manage to stumble to his couch before you’re slumping against the cushions and struggling to unlace the strappy heels you’ve still got on. 

He joins you a moment later, placing a glass of cold water on the coffee table and kneeling to help you out of your shoes. You can only imagine what you must look like, because he looks disheveled, shirt still hanging open, pants unbuttoned, your lipstick still smudged on his cheek. Exhausted as you are, it makes you want him all over again. 

He settles next to you, pulls you to his chest, and you wrap your arms around his waist, leaning up to whisper softly in his ear. “Ken,” he turns his head slightly, cheek pressed against your forehead. “I love you.” 

From this angle you can only see the corner of his eyes, the way they crinkle as he looks down bashfully, eyelashes nearly touching his cheeks at your admission, words he so rarely has heard before. Words you have vowed to repeat until he believes you – because sometimes you think he doesn’t. Still, he answers. “I love you, too.” You close your eyes a moment, your heart rate returning to normal, and take in one final deep breath. Content. 

“I don’t want to keep you from your friends,” Kendall says eventually, hands in your hair, tugging gently so you’ll look up at him. 

“Right,” you nod. “Honestly, I don’t know if I even want to go out anymore.”

“But you got all dressed up,” he smirks.

“Look where it got me.”

He laughs. “Uh-huh. You knew what you were doing what you fucking put that shit on.”

You don’t deny it, feeling your cheeks grow warm. It’d be too easy to stay with him, to slide across his lap and kiss him until he takes you again. But your phone dings on the counter, and you know you can’t abandon your friends entirely. You sigh, pulling away from Kendall and looking him in the eyes. 

“Don’t worry,” he encourages. “I’ll wait up for you.”

[fabbyf1]

happy saturday, besties!

i hope you're having a great day wherever you are in the world.

as you all know, i've been really going through it the past week. first the hurricane, then the multi-day power outage, then trying to get my life and house back to normal afterward. i had to throw away hundreds of dollars of food that spoiled (RIP money i luv u) but at least it was a great opportunity to deep clean the fridge. and, like i mentioned before, i am very very very thankful to have no physical damage to my life or property.

ANYWAY... thank you all for your patience while i get my life together. i know a lot of you are looking forward to the next chapter of the mastermind fic, and i promise i've been slowly working on it when i have time! not that anybody is rushing me; you all have been very kind and patient with me.

i'm hoping to have this chapter finished within the next couple of days as a reward to myself for doing all the not-so-fun things around the house.

in the meantime...

snippet under the cut!

After Singapore, Max flew home to Monaco. 

They had almost a month off before the next race, which gave him plenty of time to get a fucking grip. He needed to find a way to move on with his life and stop thinking about what happened, or he might actually lose his mind. He had received plenty of blow jobs over the years that he never thought twice about; why couldn’t this have been one of them?! 

It wasn’t even supposed to be a real blow job! 

Charles didn’t suck his dick because he was attracted to him; he was just trying to prove he wasn’t bad at it. Max was just a prop in his learning experience. It wasn’t like they had this irresistible chemistry between them that they finally acted on. They had never flirted, teased, or even gotten close to anything resembling a potential hook-up! 

Max was just someone with a dick that Charles felt comfortable enough with to ask for a favor. 

And, like, sure... he let him come... 

And... seemed to really enjoy swallowing his come... 

But that was because he had manners! 

Of course he let him come. It would have been rude of him to leave Max hanging after he had gone out of his way to do him a very awkward favor, and Charles Leclerc was not rude. He was kind, and polite, and funny, and hot—no! Not hot! 

He was... 

Fuck. 

Okay. 

He was hot. 

But Max knew plenty of hot people! 

Most of the people in his friend group, both men and women, were objectively very hot. The entire city of Monaco was full of people he would consider attractive. It didn’t have to mean anything. 

Just because a really hot person sucked his dick didn’t mean that he had to think about it for the rest of his life. 

He just needed a few weeks off to reset his brain, and everything would be fine. 

There were plenty of things to do that didn’t involve his cock in Charles’ mouth. He could play with the cats, or sleep until noon, or finally watch that TV series his sister had been bugging him about for months. He could play video games, or do some iRacing with Team Redline, or learn how to fucking cross-stitch or something. 

He was young, rich, and successful; the world was his oyster! 

He just needed a few weeks of uninterrupted me time, and everything would be fine!!!

[charmandabear]

Office Hours - Chapter Three

Summary:

Astarion surprises you by inviting you to his place... for a real date? The evening doesn't go as expected when you uncover the darkness in his past.

Pairing: Astarion/F!Reader Rating: E Word Count: 5.4k Tags/Warnings: mentions of Astarion's past, vampire bites, blood drinking, blow job, p in v sex, fluff with a very small side of angst, Shadowheart being a bit of a manic pixie dream best friend

Since y'all are insistent on encouraging my worst tendencies, here, have the longest single thing I've ever written. I think about Professor Astarion at all waking (and sleeping at this point) hours. I have other things planned, I will eventually write something else, I promise. But also... this one is now becoming a full-fledged multi-chapter fic. I'm half-considering rewriting the first few chapters so it's in third-person? I don't know though, let me know what you think.

H1ghVoltage and Zaria were both invaluable betas for this one, I appreciate you both so much. And Zaria for always providing the most perfect screenshots at the drop of a hat. This literally would not exist without you.

Read on AO3 ~ Masterlist

“Excuse me? The one you’re always going on about?” Shadowheart’s eyebrows disappear into her platinum bangs as she tucks her feet underneath her, holding up her wine glass so it doesn’t spill. The two of you met while moving into adjacent apartments a few years prior; it turned out you had both just been hired at the university, her at the Divinity School and you at the College of Arts and Sciences. Since then you’ve become fast friends, and you’re finally filling her in on all of the details of the whirlwind that has been the past few days. You hide your chagrin behind a sip of wine.

“Okay, listen, yes, but hear me out. He looks like this.” You hold out your phone and show her the English department faculty page.

“Oh. Oh,” she says in a low tone as her eyes study the screen. “Okay, you didn’t tell me that.” 

“I think I was in denial,” you whine as you drop your head onto the couch cushion. “I focused on how much of an asshole he is to distract me from how hot he is.”

“And now? Will you see him again?” She tosses your phone at your feet and you lift your gaze.

“I don’t know? He made a joke about having sex in my office but I don’t think he actually meant it.” You cast a sidelong glance at Shadowheart, trying to gauge her expression.

“Scandalous,” she smiles into the rim of her glass before taking a long sip. You pick up your phone, looking at his portrait. It looks like a candid photo but it’s very clearly composed. He’s sitting pitched forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He’s looking off to the side and his brow is furrowed like he’s engaged in vigorous academic debate. It’s wildly pretentious.

You drop your phone again and angrily sip at your wine, letting the dry red flood over your tongue and coat the inside of your mouth. You notice Shadowheart eyeing you suspiciously.

“Do you want to?” she asks, and you put your glass onto the coffee table and curl your knees into your chest further.

“I… I don’t know? Like obviously the sex is good. Really good,” you add under your breath, and Shadowheart looks at you salaciously as your cheeks flush. “But whenever he says more than five words I want to gouge my eyes out.”

“Is that really how you feel, or have you just convinced yourself to feel that way?” she carefully asks. You glare at her, but you can't bring yourself to disagree. You drop your less-than-menacing expression and cover your face in your hands. You let out an exasperated sigh before suddenly gasping and looking up at her with wide eyes.

“Nine hells, did I tell you what else happened? At least one student knows. I saw her coming out of his office and she made some comment about ‘We all see how you look at him.’” You flop onto your side, burying your face in the couch cushion once again.

“Well, I suppose that answers your question, at least,” Shadowheart says reassuringly, and you narrow your eyes at her.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean if you like him enough that your students are noticing, then you have to pursue him. The worst that’ll happen is you’ll break up and you can go back to hating him.” She’s awfully nonchalant about having just described a literal nightmare.

“Excuse me, how is that possibly meant to make me feel better?” you gape at her.

“At least you get a good shagging out of the deal, right?” she grins at you, and her teeth are tinged purple from the wine. You kick your foot out at her.

“Man, we need to get you laid, don’t we?” you tease and she groans.

“Listen, you just told me that you got railed twice in three days, it’s not that good out here for most of us.” Now it’s her turn to cover her face and you laugh. You pick up your wine and stretch your legs out to nudge Shadowheart’s calf.

“Who knows, maybe there’s some hot chick in the English department that he can hook you up with.” She pushes your leg back and rolls her eyes.

“Absolutely not, English academics are the worst.”

***

You have no idea what to expect when you inevitably run into Astarion the next day. You're tempted to just work from home since you don’t have any classes, but you have another damn season selection committee meeting that you can't miss, and you'd rather be around for students to drop in if they need to. 

You're on your way to the bathroom at the end of the day when you finally see him. You almost don't, at first, since you're looking down at your phone and you stop short of barrelling into him. You lock eyes and smile politely, then step to your left just as he steps to his right. You two share an awkward laugh just as it happens again in the opposite direction. After another few seconds of uncomfortable shuffling, he takes you by your shoulders and moves you to the side. You give him a thankful grin and quickly move past, trying to ignore the burning in your cheeks and the way your arms tingle where he touched you.

You get to the bathroom and close the door behind you, leaning against it to brace yourself. Your stomach is roiling, though whether it was from the embarrassment, the insatiable lust, or something else entirely, you can't quite tell. You turn on the faucet and splash your face with cool water. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, trying to will yourself into stoicism. It's a losing battle as the image of him having you bent over the sink pops into your mind. You shake your head, trying to think of something else, but that only makes it worse.

He’s pressed you up against the bathroom door and he's got your wrists pinned together above your head.

No, stop, you scold yourself. But the second you banish that image another one comes flooding in, your leg draped over his shoulder as he’s lightly sucking your clit with his fingers curled inside you.

You're dizzy with the mental image and you try to wrest it from your mind. You focus on the visual stimuli around you, the white tile, the fluorescent lights, the small blue stain beneath the soap dispenser. Eventually you find yourself back in your body and you massage your temples, trying to focus. 

Your head is still reeling slightly as you make your way back to your office. You unlock the door, completely unaware of his presence behind you until you catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye. You yelp and in an instant he’s towering over you with your back up against the wall. 

“Almighty gods, Astarion,” you swear breathlessly, your heart pounding more from the scare than the proximity for once. The proximity doesn’t help, however, when he tilts your chin with his knuckle and smiles devilishly. 

“Come to my place, let me cook you dinner,” he purrs, and your breath quickens. But when his words finally break through the seductive tone, something in your brain stops.

“Wait, cook? Can you- do you even- how-” You still haven’t fully recovered and your mouth struggles to form words. His smile widens and you know he’s enjoying watching you splutter.

“What, do you think in all of my 350 years I've never bedded a mortal? Besides,” he trails his hand down your neck and strokes it gently with his thumb, sending a shiver down your spine, “I have other ways of getting my fill.”

You instinctively tilt your head for him, almost like you’re inviting him to bite right here and now. You manage to recoup your senses just enough to quip, “I’m sure you have plenty of experience luring cute mortals back to your place.”

You think you see his jaw tighten for a fraction of a second, but it’s gone before you can be sure.

“I’ll take it as a yes, then?” He pulls away and adjusts his glasses, his fingers sliding into his hair. You nod, not trusting the words to come out of your mouth. He pulls a slip of paper from his pocket and tucks it into the neckline of your shirt, a move that would have been unbearably corny coming from anyone else.

“See you then… lover.” He winks and glides out of the room as silently as he came in. You take a breath to steady yourself, a voice in the back of your head grumbling because of how much he has you wrapped around his finger. But admittedly, he seemed equally flustered when you almost plowed into him a few minutes ago.

Maybe not the best choice of words.

You pull the piece of paper out to see an address, date, and time. Tomorrow at 7. 

Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool.

Now you just need to occupy yourself for the next 26 hours and not completely lose your nerve.

***

Occupying yourself isn’t terribly difficult with Shadowheart around. She keeps you busy all day with various errands, shopping, anything to keep you from spiraling.

Nevertheless, when it’s finally time to get dressed, you find yourself overthinking every tiny element. You stand frozen in front of your open underwear drawer trying to decide between the black lace or the pink satin.

“Shadowheeeaaaarrrrrtttt,” you call out to her in the other room. She pops her head in and gives you a pitying smile as she sees your anxiety-ridden face.

“Alright, sit, let me help,” she clinks her glass down on your dresser and nudges you until you’re sitting on your bed, fidgeting with the belt of your robe. 

“Black lace, it’s sexier,” she says sagely, tossing the panties at you and you slide them on under your robe. She pulls the plaid skirt out of the shopping bag and flings it onto the bed. 

“Put that on because we both agreed it’s adorable. It might be warm enough to go without tights?” she muses, then glances at you mischievously. “And since he has a track record of destroying those, maybe go with these instead.” She throws a pair of thigh highs at you and they hit you in the face. You wrinkle your nose.

“Careful,” you warn, but she ignores you. She floats over to your closet and sifts through the hangers. She pulls out a top, shifts her gaze between you and the garment a few times, then drops it on the floor. After another moment of searching, she pulls out a blousy cardigan, throwing it on the bed next to you.

“Don’t put that on yet, I’ll be right back.” She disappears before you can say anything. You’re left sitting on your bed in just your bra and skirt, and you rub your feet together with a restless energy.

Shadowheart returns just a few minutes later holding a lacy top that reads more as lingerie than an actual shirt. She returns your skeptical frown with a giant grin.

“Shade, I'm not wearing that,” you gripe, and she throws it in your face.

“Put it on before you judge,” she chides in response, and you roll your eyes. 

“Fine, but it probably won't fit,” you say as you take off your bra and don the sheer v-neck cami. Other than straining around your chest slightly, the fit is fine. You put on the oversized cardigan over it and look at the full effect in your floor length mirror.

“See, told you,” she says smugly as you admire your reflection. And it's true, the underwear-as-outerwear really does bring the look from glorified schoolgirl cosplay into something a bit more refined. You give her a disgruntled sidelong glance but otherwise say nothing.

“Alright, get going. Go put your shoes on and chase that Ph D.” She pushes you out of your bedroom and towards the front door of your apartment. “Don't worry about me, I'll be here drinking your wine and masturbating all by myself while you get fucked through the end of the tenday.”

You slip on your black suede ankle boots and pleadingly look at Shadowheart one more time. You're still not convinced that this whole thing isn’t just a trip into the lion’s den.

“Go! I look forward to hearing all the gory details,” she says and plants a smooch on your cheek. She then smacks your ass as you head out the door, your yelp earning a satisfied smirk.

Sure enough, when you find yourself outside his apartment door, you can feel your cold feet catching up with you. You're about to take out your phone and text Shadowheart that you're going to leave when his door opens.

“Hello, beautiful,” he croons, and the syrup in his voice makes your mouth go dry. The sleeves of his white button down are rolled up and the first few buttons are undone, leaving his collarbone exposed. The black vest tapers in his waist and flows seamlessly into his well-tailored trousers. But the first thing you notice is his glasses.

“Your glasses are different,” you blurt, internally cursing your bluntness. His eyebrows pop up above the thicker plastic frames.

“Is that a problem?” he asks without a hint of malice in his voice. You blush and quickly shake your head.

“No I- I like them. They look good,” you stutter, looking away from the heat of his gaze. He smiles and takes your hand almost like he's leading you in a courtly dance, pulling you inside.

You look around his apartment, noticing the similarities to the hominess of his office. Big overfull bookshelves, warm-lit lamps dotted around the space, papers and other junk littered across every surface. It still surprises you that he doesn’t keep a tidy space, but at the same time you find it oddly charming.

You spot a hairless cat sitting on some mail on a table in the corner, delicately licking its paw. 

“Aww, who’s this?” You approach the cat, holding out your hand for it to sniff. It hisses in response and you take a step back.

“That's His Majesty, and you're best to respect his wishes,” Astarion calls from the kitchen.

“You named your cat His Majesty?” you ask, trying to suppress the laugh bubbling in your throat.

“No, he named himself His Majesty,” he replies, returning from the kitchen with a spoonful of risotto. “Taste,” he commands and you obediently open your mouth. The steaming food coats your tongue with a tangy, savory taste. You nod at him, barely trusting yourself to speak. It tastes incredible.

You turn back to His Majesty, and you notice an empty potion of animal speaking tipped on its side near him.

“Well I'll just admire such a handsome creature from a distance, then,” you say and His Majesty preens slightly. You can hear a hum of approval from Astarion as he retreats back into the kitchen.

This man is full of contradictions. Pristine, clean cut outward appearance with a cluttered, disorganized space. Cool and disaffected, but he loves his cat enough to use potions to communicate with him. He doesn't need to eat, but somehow he’s an incredible cook? You frown to yourself; it feels like something doesn't add up.

You start scanning one of the bookshelves, wondering what else you can learn about him. If there was an organizational system, it wasn't clear. 48 Laws of Power, History of Modern Sexuality, On the Genealogy of Morality, Gender Trouble… Ayn Rand sitting next to Octavia Butler?

What the fuck does he like?

“How is my collection of books holding up in your estimation?” Astarion’s sudden presence behind you makes you jump. He presses a wine glass into your hand and ghosts his lips across the crook of your neck, sending a swath of goosebumps down your arms.

“Did I tell you that you look absolutely delicious?” he murmurs into your skin, and you can already feel yourself getting lightheaded.

“You're one to talk,” you say on a dizzied exhale, and the breath from his laugh tickles your shoulder. He puts his hands on your waist, running a finger along the inside of the waistband of your skirt. He gives it a gentle tug and you unconsciously move in the direction he’s pulling.

“Come eat,” he says, guiding you to a table with one place setting. You sit, feeling awkward as he sits across from you, a wine glass in his hand.

“Are you just going to watch me eat?” you laugh nervously. He smiles into the glass, glancing at you above the rectangular frames sliding down his nose.

“Well if you're insistent, I can have my dinner as well.” He's not subtle about leering at your neck, sparking a flicker of heat in your belly. You distract yourself by taking another bite of the risotto, which somehow tastes even better than what he fed you before.

“So what do you experience when you have… food?” you ask, trying to shift his attention off you eating. He looks up as he thinks, and you find your gaze tracing his jawline.

“It’s… sour. Like it’s spoiled. But when something is cooked well, and with high quality ingredients, it’s more bearable.”

You look down at your food, the taste dancing across your palette. It's certainly better than something you could make for yourself. But you know so little about cooking techniques besides the basics that you don’t know what the difference would even be.

“And you're drinking wine. What does that taste like?” You try not to stare at the dark red liquid collecting on his lips, but it’s hard not to when his tongue darts out to lick it up.

“Alcohol has a higher threshold for quality, so it's generally more palatable. It usually means a higher budget for these things, but it's not as though I'm spending much on groceries.” He narrows his eyes at you, but you can't read his expression. 

“Well go on,” he continues, and you tilt your head in confusion. “Ask the question that you really want to ask.” Your heart starts beating a little faster and he smirks. Gods, you really hate that he can read you like that. It would be nice to keep at least one emotion private.

“What does blood taste like?” Your voice is barely above a whisper, but it's clear that he hears you. His smile widens just enough to show off his fangs.

“It depends on the person,” he replies just as casually as if you had asked him about his taste in music. “Some are sweeter, like a nice rich port, while others have a bit of a burn, like whiskey. However, you?” He places his glass on the table and stands, and you can feel the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. He crosses behind your chair and sweeps your hair to the side, lasciviously inhaling your scent behind your ear, eliciting a shiver.

“Yours is smooth with a hint of spice, like a fine aged brandy. But the finish has an addictive quality, like absinthe.” He nips lightly at the base of your neck without breaking skin.

“Such pretty words,” you exhale on a breathy moan, reaching a hand up behind you and running your fingers through his hair, pulling him toward you ever so slightly.

“Is that what you want?” he breathes into your ear, and you arch your back in your seat, panting. You can barely get out the “yes” before he sweeps you out of the chair and wraps your legs around his waist. He carries you into the kitchen, placing you on the counter and pressing your knees apart with his torso. You whine and the cool tile pressing into your ass reminds you of his touch. He slides one hand behind your head and the other around your waist, and sinks his teeth into your neck.

The initial pain surprises you every time, and your yelp is followed by his satisfied groan. You grip the back of his neck as he drinks, and you can feel the muscles working with each swallow. The feeling of your blood coursing through both of your bodies gets you high, knowing it's your blood that flushes his lips, cheeks, and ears. It's your blood flowing to his cock. The reminder of it makes you clench instinctively.

He pulls away just as you're teetering on the edge of passing out. He’s always panting after he feeds, his glasses slightly askew and a ravenous look in his eye that makes your mouth water. You pull him into a heated kiss, the metallic tang on his lips becoming a sensory reminder of the post-feeding bliss. 

You pull him closer with your feet, aching just to feel him pressed against you. Your hands scramble against his back, tugging at his collared shirt. He’s wearing far too many layers and he hasn’t even blessed you with the sight of his gorgeous sculpted chest yet. 

You slide a hand into the back of his collar, desperate for his skin, when your fingers brush over thick raised scar tissue. He pulls back faster than you do and your hands immediately go to cover your mouth.

“I'm sorry, I didn’t–” you begin but the pained look in his eye makes you stop short.

“No it's… it's fine. I've had those for a very long time. I… ah…” he stutters, adjusting his glasses uncomfortably, and you've never seen him so flummoxed.

“What are they from?” The question leaves your mouth before you can stop it. You're about to retract, tell him he doesn't need to answer, when he speaks quietly.

“They're from… the man who turned me. He kept me as a slave for 200 years. It’s something written in infernal, but I never found out what it said. And his death ensured I never would.” He speaks while looking down at the floor, his distant gaze indicating that he's somewhere else entirely.

“Astarion…” you breathe, and you cup his face in your hands. He smirks and snakes his arms around your waist; the mask is back on.

“Don’t worry about me, darling,” he says with a composed smile, “it was a very long time ago. I’m more concerned with tonight.” He moves to kiss your neck again but you put your hand against his chest to stop him.

“No- well, I mean yes to tonight, but… let me take care of you,” you say softly, and his careful expression slips again.

“I- well if that’s what you want.” He crinkles his brow, unsure of what to make of your proposal.

“Is it what you want?” You stroke his cheek, and it suddenly feels like this is an entirely different man standing in front of you. Hesitant, vulnerable, his usual swaggering confidence replaced with an uncertain tenderness that makes your heart pound in a way that feels wholly unfamiliar with him.

“I’m not sure,” he says, his voice dropping to just above a whisper.

“We don’t have to,” you offer quickly, “we can just fuck up against a wall or something.” The joke breaks the tension and he lets out a little giggle.

“What do you have in mind?” He looks up at you through heavy-lidded eyes, and you ease off the counter and gently nudge him backwards toward his bedroom. He follows your lead, his doubtful look shifting into something of excitement and mischief. You guide him until the back of his knees hit the bed, and you push him to sit. 

You straddle his lap and run your fingers through his silvery curls. You kiss along his jawline and down his neck, placing a particularly tender kiss on his bite scar. He exhales heavily, sliding his hands up your thighs and resting them on your lower back.

You begin carefully unbuttoning his vest, followed by his shirt, untucking the hem from his pants. You slide it down his shoulders and onto the bed behind him, letting your warm hands run over the cool planes of his skin. His eyes follow your movements carefully and you take your time, tracing over every divet, every freckle and mole. You delight in his gasp when your fingers dance over his navel and down to his belt buckle.

You slip off his lap and drop between his legs, your hands continuing their journey along his hips. You plant increasingly hungry kisses above his waistband as you remove his belt and unzip his pants. He leans back on his hands as his breathing quickens, but he doesn’t take his eyes off you.

You’re struck with the irony that the last time you were between Astarion’s legs like this it was to get revenge, to make him feel flustered and speechless the way he always does to you. Now you have him, flustered and speechless, and all you want is to worship him, make him feel warm and safe.

You slide his pants down under his ass, pulling them all the way off so he’s sitting on his bed fully nude. You run your lips along his inner thigh as you palm his growing erection. 

“Ah- wait,” he stammers and you immediately look up and pull back.

“Yes?” you ask, frozen by the fear that you’ve gone too far.

“I want to see you,” he whispers, nudging your cardigan off your shoulder. “All of you.”

It’s hard to believe that someone sitting naked in front of you can make you feel so exposed. You shiver as you drop the cardigan off your back, the sudden exposure to cool air making your nipples poke through the lacy top that Shadowheart gave you. You stand and he watches intently as you unzip your skirt, letting it fall to the floor in a pool at your feet. His expression gives little away, but his cock doesn’t. By the time you’ve removed the black panties, thigh highs, and cami, it stands at full attention. His knees squeeze around your legs and his arms pull you in close to him, pressing his nose against your belly. You card your fingers through his hair and down to his chin, tilting his head upwards.

“Better?” you breathe, and he nods, his eyes round and wide. You bend down to kiss him, slow and languid, before dropping to your knees again. When you pull away his mouth stays open, suspended in the shape of your kiss.

You settle between his knees and lightly kiss the head of his dick. You flick your gaze upward, monitoring his expression as you lazily run your fingers along his shaft. His glasses balance on the tip of his nose as he looks down at you, transfixed by your ministrations. You open your lips slightly, not quite taking him into your mouth yet as you softly cup his balls in your hand. You can hear his breath growing ragged, and he rewards you with an almost inaudible moan when your tongue finally wets his cock.

You wrap your lips around his tip, gently working the underside with your tongue. You run your hands up his thighs, squeezing his hips as they buck into you. You take more of him in, the warmth of your mouth contrasting with the cool, sensitive skin. He groans and tangles his fingers in your hair, a gesture that feels closer to petting than pulling.

You pull your mouth off his cock, wrapping your hand around the now slick shaft. You run your thumb along the slit, and his responding shutter makes you smile.

“Ah- enjoying yourself?” he murmurs, unable to keep his voice steady. You look up at him and drag your tongue along his entire length.

“I am, are you?” you hum, taking him back into your mouth and swirling your tongue around the tip. His leg quivers beside you, his toes curling inward.

“Mmph,” he grunts in assent, his hand twisting into your hair a little more. You slip your hands under his thighs and slide your mouth further down, letting him fill you up. His hips jerk, wanting to thrust into you, and you relax your jaw to let him. His little pants and disjointed moans send a jolt of heat down to your core, and you can feel yourself becoming wet with desire for him. 

You reach down and slip your middle finger between your slick folds, your groan vibrating into him. He hisses and pulls you off his cock and into a fierce kiss. The two of you tumble backwards onto the bed, your hair encircling you like a curtain. You press your bodies together, the smoldering heat spreading into a raging wildfire. He lines himself up with your entrance as you continue your desperate assault on his lips. He slides in with ease and your cry into his mouth accompanies him bottoming out. 

You push yourself up, bracing yourself on his chest as you grind into him. He plants his hands on your hips, thrusting up into you. Your head falls back in ecstasy, your hair cascading down the length of your back. You increase the pace of your rolling hips, each breath growing more voiced as you approach your peak. 

“Oh gods, Astarion,” you babble, his name falling out of your mouth like a prayer. He realizes you’re getting close, he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you into him tight. He latches onto your nipple, flicking his tongue and sucking to send your pleasure to staggering heights. You arch your back into him as your arms hook over his shoulders, brushing your hands against those awful scars. Your hands splay across his back as if to say no one will ever hurt you like that again. 

You pull his face to yours so that you can taste his lips as you crash over the edge. The kiss is broken up by your cries and you can feel his cock throbbing inside you, his grunts in time with his pulsing seed. You stay still and connected as the waves of pleasure ebb and flow and finally settle. The only noise left in the room is both of your heavy panting, and the telltale sound of just your heart pounding.

His hands slide down your back as you carefully pull yourself off him and you shiver as his now-soft cock falls out of you. You kneel next to him and rest your head on his shoulder, and he reaches over to stroke your jaw.

“Thank you,” he hums softly, and you press another sweet kiss to his neck. His scar.

After a moment you let out a contented sigh, then you say, “Well, I should probably gather my things and go, then.” You begin to stand to dress, but his hand closes around your wrist. You turn to him, unable to hide the surprise on your face.

“Or you could… stay. If you want.” He looks up at you through smudged and sweaty glasses and a smile tugs at your lips.

“What do you want?” you ask, and you watch him shift uncomfortably with a question that he’s not used to answering.

“I want…” he begins, hesitant. “I want to watch last year’s Globe production of Much Ado About Nothing with you. You said you like that one, right?” Your ears grow hot as you realize the extent to which he actually paid attention to you, even before you were sleeping together.

“I do, yeah. One of his best,” you say, your voice cracking slightly as you repeat his words back to him. That interaction feels like it was eons ago, when in fact it was less than a tenday. 

He smirks, some of his confident charm seeping back into his demeanor. He scoots back on the bed until he’s resting against the headboard, and then he reaches out to you, inviting you to curl in next to him. You oblige, and he turns on the TV across from the bed, pulling up the pro-shot. You sink in next to him, appreciating how his chest cools your flushed cheek.

A single word gnaws at the back of your mind and you banish it quickly. 

No, that’s the oxytocin talking.

It’s just been a long time since you’ve slept with someone more than once.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head and the gnawing grows more insistent.

…

Fuck.

[creamhoodie]

Supercut

Summary: You and Gojo were dating in your youth. Your relationship was an intimate secret the two of you held close. After a mission went astray, your relationship fell apart. Flash forward a few years and you're now dating Kento Nanami and are forced to navigate your feelings regarding the two of them.

Tags: fem reader, NSFW, 18+ content, angst, love triangle, flashback scenes written in italics.

A/N: This will be my first multi chapter fic I've written on here (plz comment if you'd like to be included in a tag list. ) Also pls do not make fun or point out any plot holes when it comes to explaining & introducing stuff having to do with curses. This is all for fun and fantasy no way reflecting canon. The things I write about are meant to make sense within the context of the story & will be explained as the story progresses.

wc: 5.4k

Chapter 1: The Day Everything Changed

“Oh. The flowers? Is it a special day?” Gojo asked, poking his head into your empty classroom as you sat at your desk grading papers. 

The roses he spoke of were in a pristine glass vase. A gift from your boyfriend.

“Kento got them for me for our anniversary,” you replied shortly. 

“Oh really? How long has it been now?” he asked, cocking his head to the side as if thinking. 

“Two years,” you replied. 

Surely he knew. How couldn’t he? The two of you had history and call it arrogance but given that history you were sure he kept tabs on your romantic life. 

“Congratulations,” he said, though his enthusiasm seemed forced.

It was enough to make you snap 

“Is there a reason you came to see me?” you asked. 

He smiled and walked into the room fully now, a pink bag in his hand and placed it on your desk next to the flowers. 

“I got you a souvenir from when I went to Kyoto,” he said, seemingly pleased with himself. 

Curiosity winning out, you peered into the bag to find a medium sized white box. Taking the box out, you lifted the lid and gasped. 

“It’s Kyogashi! Oh Satoru you shouldn’t have,” you said with glee at him having gotten you your favorite flower sweets.

Caught up in the moment you stood from your desk and hugged him. His chest vibrated as he laughed at your enthusiasm. His arms enveloped you as well and you felt his hands stroke your hair. Pulling back, you saw him looking down at you.

“It’s been a while since we’ve been this close,” he said, the corners of his lips flickering upwards. 

Your face flushed beet red as he referenced your past with him. 

“For good reason,” you said, shoving him away. He reluctantly let you go. Straightening your blouse, you hoped his cologne didn’t linger on your clothes. You wouldn’t want to have to explain that to Nanami. 

“Have you ever told him about us?” Gojo asked, as if reading your mind. 

“No. That’s all in the past. It was a long time ago so there’s no need to bring it up. Besides, you broke up with me. Remember?” 

He appeared visibly hurt at your words, but there was no denying the truth in them. He had been the one who had ended things with you, even if it had been in an unorthodox way.

“Remember what?” Nanami walked into the room, having caught only the last of your words. You seemed flustered but luckily Gojo was quick on his feet as always. 

“She was just reminding me that it’s the two of you’s anniversary,” he said. 

Nanami walked over to you and placed an arm around your shoulders as he always did for comfort. 

“Oh good. That’s exactly why I’m here to take her out for dinner. Otherwise she’ll work herself to death,” your boyfriend said laughing slightly. He peered over at your desk at the box  and asked, “what are these?” 

“Gojo got these for me as a souvenir from his mission in Kyoto,” you replied.

You’d never lie to Nanami, he didn’t deserve that. Plus it wasn’t unusual for Gojo to bring everyone souvenirs of some sort. 

“Oh that’s nice. You deserve so many sweet things, darling,” he said, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze. He then addressed Gojo, “if you’ll excuse us I made reservations for us tonight so we really must be going.” 

Nanami led you to the door, but not before stopping to grab your purse and drape it over his shoulder to carry it for you. 

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” you said, snuggling into Gojo’s chest.

The two of you were laying down in a hammock outside, basking in the sun. Since there had been nothing pressing and it was an ‘off day’ the two of you had hiked near the outskirts of campus to set up the hammock and relax. 

“So do I,” he replied, his lips grazing the top of your hair. 

It was a nice spring day, the kind where the warmth of the sun shot dopamine into your veins and made life worth living again. Take into account the added warmth of Gojo’s body and you couldn't imagine a better place to be.  

These getaways between the two of you had been more frequent and a secret from the rest of your cohort at jujutsu high. It’s not that the two of you had intended to make things secret, but you both found comfort and beauty in the privacy your relationship had to offer. 

You felt Gojo’s lips at your jawline, trailing kisses there. 

“Listen, about this upcoming mission…” he began what had been a source of contention between the two of you this past week. 

“I know what you’re gonna say. I’m not staying behind, Yaga said I’m ready.” 

You looked up at him, he was silent for a moment, his mouth forming a rigid line. Snuggling into him more, you tried to break down his resolve. “Satoru, you don’t have to worry about me, I can handle myself.” 

His crystal eyes softened behind his frames and he pressed another kiss on top of your head before speaking.

“It’s not that I don’t think you’re ready. It’s not about Yaga thinking you’re ready. It’s just that special grade curses are different. They are on another level.” 

“Well if it’s not about me being ready then what’s it about?” you pressed. 

His cheeks grew pink.

“I just can’t lose you. I can’t stand the idea of you being hurt,” he said. 

It was the closest to a confession about his feelings you’d gotten. He was sweet, affectionate, caring, and very much protective. But one thing Gojo struggled with was voicing his feelings. The fact that he did so now emphasized to you how serious he was about the upcoming mission and the danger it presented. 

“I know, but that’s why you’ll be there to help protect me. Plus there’s Nanami, Yaga said he’d be going too.” 

Gojo nodded, but his eyes had again taken that look where he seemed so far away in thought. You often wondered if his mind was occupied by the intersection of cursed energy and humanity as he always seemed lost in complex thought. But oftentimes when you’d catch him in this rumination, he’d quickly snap back to his carefree self, leaving you wondering if you had imagined it. This time, he let his rumination linger. 

“Satoru, I’ll be fine. It’ll all be fine,” you said, softly inching upwards to snuggle your face into his neck, breathing in his ocean breeze scent. 

“You better be, because I don’t know what I’ll do if it’s not.” 

With the conviction he said it, you wondered if it’s the first time in his life Satoru Gojo felt truly vulnerable. 

“How are you liking your meal?” Nanami asked over a bite of his own steak. 

“It’s excellent. The salmon and lobster are to die for,” you replied. 

The waitress stopped by and asked if the two of you needed anything. Nanami asked for more champagne as it was a special night. 

The thing about Kento Nanami is that he was a lot more loose and laid back than people would think, of course under the right circumstances. Holidays and anniversaries provided those circumstances. Of course there was you, whenever the two of you were in a room together, people saw a side of him they usually didn’t see, a doting and affectionate side. 

“My love, I want to take a moment to thank you for spending these past two years with me. Every moment of everyday you’ve given me something to live for,” he said. His hand reached out over the table to cover your free one, the warmth of his calloused palm made you shiver. You couldn’t help but compare his hand to Gojo, whose skin was soft. 

No, that wasn’t right. 

Why were you thinking of Gojo right now? You love Nanami, you have always been certain of that. 

“Love?” Nanami questioned, worry forming behind his spectacles. 

“I should be thanking you, Kento. You’ve treated me like a princess these past two years,” you replied. 

He smiled, and it reached his eyes. 

“I love you,” he said. 

“I love you too,” you said. 

You loved Kento Nanami and his calloused hands you knew he had acquired from his years of hard work, both physical and mental labor that shaped the foundation of who he was and his beliefs. It was better to leave Satoru Gojo and his soft hands in the past, there was no place for him or them in your life anymore.  He had been the one to make that clear.

“Just stick by me and you’ll be fine,” Gojo said to you as the three of you came upon a corporate office in the special wards of Tokyo. 

The veil had been cast and the area had been blocked off by authorities so there wasn’t any concern of civilians being caught in the crossfire, or so it would seem.

“Remember this special grade can shapeshift, so it’s best we stick together. From the reports, it’s intelligent so it’s been camping out in this office building and luring victims inside using its shape shifting abilities,” Nanami said, giving you two a rundown in case you hadn’t done your homework.

Maybe other times he’d be justified in doing this, as Gojo was known for winging it, but given your presence, he had made you read the reports with him over and over. 

So you knew that not only was the special grade curse a shapeshifter, but that it had been luring victims all over Toyoko in different places for the past few months. Due to its intelligence, the trail of it had gone cold as it was acting as a serial killer of sorts and had covered its tracks once it had sensed it was being hunted. 

Most wicked of all the curse seemed to have had access to a missing person database and therefore transformed into the missing person and lured friends and family to their deaths. 

It was awful, but it explained why Gojo was so worried, the curse exploited those dear to you. 

“I should go in first, and scope it out. If I see it I’ll exorcise it,” Gojo said. 

So much for sticking close to him, you thought. 

“That wasn’t the plan,” Nanami refuted, “Yaga said we should stick together. Besides, it’s more logical that way. If it turns into you and we’re separated it can cause more confusion.” 

“It can’t copy my techniques,” Gojo said, unconcerned and determined to go at it alone, no doubt his intention was to protect you. 

“We don’t know that for certain. It hasn’t transformed into a sorcerer before. It’s best we stick together on the off chance it can mimick more than appearance.” 

Gojo’s jaw was clenched. Nanami had him backed into a corner with his logic, there was no refuting it. Whether splitting up or staying together, there would still be risks posed to you. 

His eyes locked with yours, but he made it seem as he was talking to the both of you. 

“Stick by me.” 

“Mmm, Kento” your head fell back in pleasure as he laid kisses down your neck, the door to your shared penthouse apartment just closing behind you. His kisses were heated and lustful, bringing out a side of him only you had the privilege of knowing. 

“I want you, badly.. need you right now,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Fuck, so take me,” you replied. 

He picked you up, effortlessly as though you were weightless, carrying you to your bedroom. He plopped you down on the bed and you fell back against the silken sheets. 

“You’re so beautiful. I’ve been thinking about this moment all day,” he confessed as he undid the buttons of your blouse. You helped him shrug it off your shoulders until it was discarded to the side. That left you in your bra, breasts spilling out of the tight cups, a lone nipple just managing to peek through the top. Nanami cursed, hardening at the nip slip. He couldn’t seem to help himself as he bent forward to kiss you again, the kiss festering into a passionate make out of tongues, the stream of salvia that connected the two of you even after you broke apart served as evidence for the heated exchange. 

“Ken,” you whimpered, the jolt of heat between your thighs growing painful. 

“I know, all in good time,” he cooed. He groped your breasts, squeezing them slightly so they spilled over in the cups, both nipples fully exposed now. His hands moved quickly to undo your bra, fully removing it now. His lips found yours again, and you moaned into the kiss as he massaged your sensitive breasts. With shaky hands, you began to unbutton his shirt, revealing his muscled torso. The kiss became hungrier as you palmed at his pants to undo his zipper, when your hand made contact with his hard on, he muttered a faint “oh fuck,” against your lips. He gently pushed you back so you were laid down on the bed fully as he positioned himself on his knees in front of you. Quickly, your lower half was undressed panties and all until you were completely naked before him. 

“So beautiful,” he praised once again, his face inched forward and you knew what he was going to do, “and all mine,” he added before his tongue licked at your folds. 

You gasped, grasping at the silken bedsheets to stabilize yourself as he continued to pleasure you. His fingers began to join in and between them and his tongue he was crafting a symphonic arrangement uniquely curated to you and all your sensitive parts. His fingers stimulated your clit while he lapped at your arousal which continued to flood, overflowing and dripping on his chin. 

“Kento, yes..it feels so good,” you moaned. He picked up the speed and as he did your hands went from the bedsheets to his hair, in an effort to be even closer, you pressed his face against your sex. You cried out as you felt the friction from his frames against your vulnerable skin. 

All the white he continued to lap, the lewd noises of your wet skin and his lips permeating the dark room. 

“Ken-I’m so close,” you warned. 

“So cum then, cum all over my tongue,” he panted before resuming. 

His voice, so animalistic, so unhinged and unlike his usual composed self, set you on edge and you felt your toes curl as the familiar sensation of an orgasm overtook your body. 

Gasping for air, you felt your body give out to the sweet release as below Nanami lapped it all up. 

“Tastes. So. Good,” he said each word between laps, savoring it.

By this point, you had fallen fully back against the bedsheets, hands over your head, your ribs and breasts rising and falling as you caught your breath. The view of Nanami, glasses drenched with moisture, hair flopping out of its usual gel style, and mouth puffy and pink made your heart race. And it began to race even more as he stood up, undid his tie, and shrugged off his shirt you had unbuttoned. His glasses soon followed, revealing his stunning hazel eyes. Finally, his pants and boxers were discarded. 

Although you and Nanami had been very sexually active these past two years, it still caught you by surprise how big his cock was. It was long and the girth was impressive, and his pink head was the same color as his lips.

“We’re not done yet,” he whispered, lining himself up with your sex. “Spread your legs even wider for me, love.” 

You did as he asked and the glow of the city lights coming in from the window shining on his skin made him all the more handsome. You felt his mushroom tip fetter its way into your folds easily and you both moaned in unison at the skin to skin contact as he slid his length into you. When he completely bottomed out inside you, he paused for a moment, allowing himself to soak inside of your warmth. 

“You feel so good,” he sighed in complete bliss. Throughout your relationship during your pillow talk and aftercare he had described being in you as being in a domain. All he could feel was you, as though all he was ever meant to do was be inside of you, every moment of his life all the hard work and hours he has put in as a salaryman and a sorcerer had been to lead him to this moment, soaking inside of you, his heaven and his relief. He rested his forehead against yours for a few moments, the two of you savoring the sensation and tension of the unprotected contact that felt just as good as the first time even after two years. Shaky breaths and whimpers were the only sounds in the room. That is, until he spoke again. 

“Tell me you love me,” he requested,”need to hear it again.”

“I love you,” you replied, genuinely. 

“I love you too,” he reciprocated. 

He then began to thrust in and out of you, setting a steady pace. You felt his cock going in and out of you, each time more wet than the last as he coated himself in your arousal, the sounds of slapping skin echoing. 

Your eyes rolled back in pleasure as he continued until all you could feel was Nanami. 

All you could think of was Nanami.. 

“Nanami? Did you hear that?” you asked as the three of you combed through the halls of the warehouse. Gojo led further up front, having requested, no more like commanded, to take the lead. 

Nanami paused, cocking his head to the side, his long blonde hair falling like a curtain in the same direction. 

“I didn’t hear anything, but it’s safe to assume the curse knows we’re here now. It’s best that we all stick together,” he said somewhat pointedly at Gojo.

The corporate office was truly a sad sight, where it was once a place no doubt bustling with business, the lights no longer worked and the few bulbs that remained in use flickered, threatening to go out at any moment. The three of you were on the first floor, having walked through the lobby and several conference rooms, there was no sign of the curse.

Except, you had heard rustling, and you felt the hair at the back of your neck stand up as though you were being watched. 

“Let’s move on to the second floor,” Nanami said before calling out,”Gojo let’s move on.” 

Gojo was crouched down on the floor dipping his finger in a small puddle of water. 

No, not water, upon further inspection it looked like.. 

“Blood. Cursed spirit blood by the looks of it,” he said as the purple liquid dipped down his finger. 

“So it’s been wounded recently? From what?” You asked. 

“Maybe a victim tried to fight back and managed to puncture it somehow. Perhaps there’s still a survivor or it’s taken hostages,” Nanami said, thinking through the logic, “either way it’s vulnerable which means-“

“It’s a whole lot more dangerous,” Gojo finished. He locked eyes with you again, and the look in them made you gulp. “I’ll go on ahead and search. Nanami, you stay with her.” 

Not this again, it seemed as if he was determined to go at the mission alone, and no doubt it was because of you. 

“We’ve been through this. Due to the curse’s ability it is more advantageous for us to remain as a group,” Nanami said. 

“So take her back to the school. We all know I can handle it on my own. Then we don’t have to worry about it changing into one of the two of you,” Gojo said. 

“Satoru, I'm staying here,” you said with finality. 

That did nothing to dissuade him. 

“This isn’t a sightseeing trip or low level mission. You could die!” He shouted. 

His words were like cold water. You knew the skill difference between the two of you, but he had never made you feel inferior before.

“I knew the risks when I came on. We all know the risks of being a sorcerer,” you said, your lip shook a little. 

Regret formed in his crystal eyes and he opened his mouth to speak again but whatever he was trying to say was drowned out by a shriek. 

Your shriek, it took a second for you to register the sound and the fact that it wasn’t coming from your mouth. 

It was the curse. 

The three of you turned and down the hall stood an exact replica of you, a perfect imposter.

Gojo cursed, and you knew this is what he had been afraid of. 

Nanami planted a kiss on your bare shoulder as you snuggled back against him in bed. The two of you were still naked from your love making and had taken to cuddling afterwards. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he said, as his lips took to the  curve of your neck up to the back of your ear, now making you laugh. 

“I think part of the credit for that goes to you, you spoil me with all these fancy creams and lotions Kento,” you said. 

It was true. Nanami was loaded, filthyfully so, but he was so humble about it one wouldn’t know it. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy luxury he did, but his form of luxury wasn’t branded items to show off to others, it was silent wealth, expensive items he enjoyed for their quality and longevity such as his watches or the rare edition books he was fond of collecting. Most of all, he loved to spend his wealth on you. Anything you even showed interest in was yours, the bathroom was stocked with luxury brands for you to use and he had gifted you more lingerie sets and clothing than you knew what to do with. 

“Spoiling you gives me something to live for,” he said, nuzzling his face into your hair and breathing in the scent, “ask me for anything and it’s yours.” 

You turned to face him, his eyes were so kind as they always were. That was something you had always enjoyed about Nanami, his eyes were kind towards all, but of course there had always been a certain fondness in them that was reserved for you. It had taken you embarrassingly long to notice that. 

“I want you to not work yourself to death. You’re always saying I do that but you’re worse than me. You’re always going away on missions,” you said cupping his cheek with your hand. 

“I can’t do that, dear. You and I both know the responsibilities of a grade one sorcerer,” he said. 

Yes, you both did. 

Perhaps it would have been a responsibility the two of you shared if it hadn’t been for you no longer continuing to practice your techniques and skills. Perhaps if you had only continued you could accompany him on these missions, instead you had opted to remain at the school teaching in class instruction only.

Ever since that day, that mission so long ago.. 

“Hey, I didn’t mean anything by it,” he said softly, he turned his head to kiss your palm. You dropped your hand, returning it at your side. You didn’t look at him. 

Yes he didn’t mean anything by it, but this was a source of contention between the two of you. It was because of your guilt of not being able to accompany him on missions, your fear of losing him, and most of all the deep rooted shame you had in yourself for quitting. 

Yes you could still practice now, get stronger and better, but was it worth it? 

You had been out of the field for so long and you enjoyed the life you had now with Nanami. It was a life of comfort, stability, but still you wondered if there was more you could be doing. So now every time Nanami left, you worry about losing him. He did have a good work life balance but he was a man of conviction and principles who took his responsibilities so seriously that he wouldn’t hesitate to lose his life in an instance if it was for a higher calling, the thought scared you. 

“You said ask you for anything I want, and that’s what I want,” you said in a small voice. 

He chuckled slightly. 

“No fair, sweetheart. You know I can’t deny you anything,” he said. 

You moved closer, so your face was a mere few inches from his. 

“So don’t, stay with me,” you whispered before kissing him. 

He moaned into your kiss, and you could tell you were threatening all of his resolve. 

“Fine, love. You get your wish. I cut back on the number of missions I take,” he said. 

“But?” You pressed, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“But?” He repeated.

“Do I have to do something in return?” you clarified. 

He laughed.

“At a later date I’ll ask you for something in return. For now, let me enjoy being this close to you.” 

The shriek still echoing in your ears, you didn’t have time to process anything as the curse disappeared from in front of you and a black sinking hole appeared underneath your feet. 

Your own hands, duplicate imposter hands, grabbed at your feet and dragged you through the sinkhole. You heard Gojo call your name but it sounded so very distant. 

When you got your bearings straight, you looked around and saw you were in a basement of sorts. The three of you hadn’t even thought to start with the basement! In fact the three of you hadn’t even thought there was a basement as most modern corporate offices no longer had any. It was a minor error, but a critical one all the same. 

“Don’t try to run, it won’t help your friends,” the curse said in your voice. 

It still looked like you, identical down to your shoes. 

“I don’t have to run. They’ll find the basement soon enough,” you said. 

You didn’t move as the curse dragged you by the arm and took you further back into the basement. To your surprise, there was an old automobile there. The curse took you around it, sat you down facing forward. It was then that you noticed some thick rope and a wad of duct tape there. 

“Seems like you’ve thought everything through,” you said. 

Now would be a good time to use your abilities. 

But should you? 

Perhaps the curse only copied what it could see. If you used your abilities would more danger fall upon you? Physical combat would be better, much safer.

The curse tied you up on the car leg while you debated this. You struggled against it and spat in your own face as it held up the duct tape. 

That caused the curse to strike you in the face, and then put the duct tape on your mouth. Then it left you there. 

Did it mean to steal your identity? Gojo and Nanami were smarter than that, they’d expect it. But it was clear the curse was operating on higher levels of intelligence than anticipated, it was scheming even. 

“Stay here,” it spat at you as though you had any other option. 

The curse then went back to the front of the basement. 

You heard racing footsteps, Gojo’s footsteps. 

“I got away but the curse it’s still out there!” You heard your voice shrillish, and authentic. 

“Did you see where it went? Are you hurt?” Gojo asked. 

No, something was wrong.. how could he not tell it wasn’t you? 

Perhaps he was toying with the curse, letting it put its guard down. 

You turned your neck and could see ever so slightly Gojo and yourself standing several feet away. The height difference between the two of you was more jarring from this perspective. 

“I didn’t see where it went. I’m okay but it was so scary,” the curse said, still imitating you. 

Gojo bent down pressing his forehead against yours.

“It’s okay. I’m here now,” he said.

To your horror the way he said it, in the soft tone reserved just for you, served as evidence that he had been duped.

But how?

Couldn't he sense it with his six eyes? What was going on? 

Even more horrific he leaned forward and so did the curse as if to kiss their lips mere inches apart…. 

Suddenly, Nanami ran into the room and without hesitation used his sword to slice the curse in two, purple blood flying everywhere. 

That’s when you began to cough up something sweet in your throat. 

You heard the two young men arguing. 

The last thing you heard before passing out was Gojo screaming your name��� 

You woke up at Jujutsu High a few days later, in the medical wing of campus. 

“Hey, there’s our girl,” Shoko said, smiling at you. She was sitting at your bedside.

“Where’s Gojo?” you asked. 

She ignored your question and touched your temple, causing you to relax instantly.

“Do you feel okay? I had to work long on you. I also wanted to keep a close watch on you it was a very interesting case study actually-“ she stopped, knowing her comments would only make you more curious. 

“Shoko. Where’s Gojo?” You pressed. 

She seemed hesitant as if she wasn’t sure how much she was at liberty to say.

“He came to see you several times. I can let him know you’re up. He should be here soon.” 

She then left to do so, whipping out her cellphone. 

It was odd. 

The Gojo you knew would be here, at your bedside. 

But day turned into night and he still didn’t see you. 

For whatever reason you weren’t allowed out of the medical wing on Yaga’s orders apparently. 

Three days past, and he still didn’t see you. 

It was only on the fourth day when you woke up from one of the Shoko induced slumbers via sedation that you saw him standing there in front of your bed.

He looked like he had lost weight even though it had only been a few days. His shades fully covered his eyes. 

“Why didn’t you come to see me? What happened? Was the mission successful?” Your mouth spilled out several questions without even thinking. 

He was silent for a while before answering.

“The mission was successful. Nanami killed the curse easily. It evidently was on the brink of death already.”

“But?” 

That’s when he explained. Truly explained.

The curse was unique in nature in that it had to suck the life force out of another organic being in order to survive. That’s why it had taken on the appearance of the missing children and lured family and friends. It fed off the feel good energy that the family and friends emitted upon thinking they found their loved one. Except here was the twist, the children died because their loved ones believed the curse was them. It was that transfer of energy that allowed the curse to add to its lifespan and in short take the energy from the person it was imitating. It was a leech in nature. 

That’s why when the curse had been killed you had begun to choke as well because it had linked its life force to your own.

“But it had to have tricked you. Surely there’s something else, another ability it has to dull the senses and that’s why you thought it was me,” you said. 

Because this truth was too difficult to accept. Satoru, your Satoru would know you anywhere wouldn’t he?

“That’s just the thing. I’ve racked my mind around it. There’s no ability, no reason why I of all people could have fallen for something so simple,” he turned away from you now, his back facing towards you, “the simple truth is I didn’t see it because I wasn’t looking.” 

He then walked out of the room, despite you calling him to come back. 

You chased after him but he was gone, vanished into the air.

In the subsequent days he was gone and when you asked Yaga, all he said was that Gojo had taken a leave from the school for personal reasons. 

Days turned into weeks.

Weeks turned into months. 

Months into years.

It was six whole years before you saw him again. 

By that point you were in your early teaching career and he evidently had gone to the Kyoto school to finish his studies and become a great grade one sorcerer. 

For a while you had dreams of him abandoning you, dreams of that day where everything changed… 

a/n: if you read the whole thing thank you I always appreciate the time people spend to read my content. Any feedback is always appreciated as well.

[petrichor-idyllic]

Ok, I have a request based on your new prompt list. The names got me thinking, and I was wondering if you could do just the Gladers x Fem!Reader who joins them and is a total badass, and has a title, like in the books, and she’s “the warrior.” And she’s named Joan after Joan of Arc. Could be a fic or just headcanons, whichever is easiest for you. Thanks!

Ooo this is a really fun idea. I'm gonna do some headcanons simply because that is easier for me to do.

Also, not my normal headcanons with separate sections for each boy - this is about your life in the Glade and relationships with the Gladers.

Also, fem!reader, so no romance with Newt as specified on my masterlist, but y'all are buddies.

And I've decided to use another one of my ideas, so you're even more of a pain in WICKED's ass :).

THE WARRIOR

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Book based fic.

WICKED stole your name and called you Joan - and there's a good reason for that. You were a test Subject and WICKED prodigy that broke into the Maze to help your friends - and WICKED couldn't really do anything about it.

(If you're actually called Joan, congrats, this is for you, I guess.)

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, actually follows the naming canon so no (Y/N), awkward Glader flirting. I fully don't how I'm gonna write this so prepare for me to butcher this prompt. This is a bit of a different layout so I decided to have some fun with it.

LOADING SUBJECT INFORMATION

SUBJECT NUMBER: A3 "The Warrior"

BIRTH NAME: (Y/N) (L/N).

SUBJECT GIVEN NAME: Joan.

NOTES: Subject A3 shows signs of rebellion and aggression. This is not surprising considering the means she went through to enter the Maze Trails. Though, her efforts may have been beneficial. Due to being the only female Group A Subject for the majority of the Maze Trails, she is volatile and untrusting. However, A3 does display close relationships with several other Subjects.

LOADING GLADER EXPERIENCE

You had an eventful first week in the Glade.

As eventful as a first week can be, really.

Initially, you freaked the fuck out.

You woke up in a dark box with nothing but your name and the smell of burning oil.

And then the Box opened up and you weren't the only one freaking out.

Surrounded by a couple dozen boys - no one knew what to do.

Unbeknownst to you, not only were you the only girl the Gladers had ever seen - but you'd also shown up between Greenie days.

They weren't due another Greenie for another week and a half.

Confusion spread through the Glade like wildfire.

The first person you met was Newt.

He seemed to be one of the few boys that weren't going absolutely savage at your presence.

He offered you a hand, which you refused to take at first.

Until the Box jolted again, and started to move with you still inside it.

"Oi, come on! Jump!"

"What's happening?!"

"I don't shuckin' know! Jump!"

With the help of several other pairs of hands, you decide to jump, and Newt yanks you up.

And you see the the Glade for the first time.

And the opening in the Walls.

You don't even have to think about.

When Newt tries to talk to you, you clock him square in the face and book it towards the exit.

AKA. The Maze.

Which results in a kind of stampede as you rush to escape.

Which, is where you meet Minho.

It's late in the day and Minho has finished his route early so he's coming back to chill out for a bit.

Except that doesn't happen because you come whizzing past him.

"Minho! Stop her!"

"What?"

"Stop the shuckin' girl!"

Admittedly, you are faster than he expected.

But not faster than him.

You manage to get around a corner before he tackles you, rugby style.

He manages to restrain you, and Alby and Newt come to help and wrestle you back to the Glade.

You're put in the Slammer.

Bummer.

The Gladers use the time you're locked up to figure out what to do.

Alby puts a very strong no touching rule in place and threatened to Banish anyone that dare break it.

After that, he goes out of his way to try and calm you down and explain what's happening here.

Eventually you oblige.

And Alby shows you the place.

He introduces you to people of note - Winston, Zart, Gally, Frypan and the other Keepers.

And he reintroduces you to Newt and Minho.

You learn things about yourself over the next following weeks.

You're feisty and forward.

You have a short fuse.

You're somewhat skilled at hand to hand combat and could probably put up a good fight against most of the Gladers.

You're sarcastic and quick witted.

Though, you remain level headed and fast thinking.

You try out all the jobs.

You settle on being a Builder for a while.

Which Gally is thrilled about.

You, surprisingly, actually get along with Gally quite well.

Sure, he's a bit of a dick and has far too many opinions.

But, he's a good boss.

He's strict and hard-working; pushing his men to the bets of their ability, and in your opinion, what they need.

This lands you in Gally's circle, which includes Frypan.

Gally isn't well liked.

Which is fine with you.

It means the boys leave you alone.

And, you get the opportunity to build your own little hut.

You like working as a Builder.

This also leads to the first of the boys developing a crush on you - Gally.

Frypan is quick to second that.

The third is Minho.

It's not like the pair of you are particularly close, but after Newt suggests you be a Runner - that changes.

You're fast and resilient; both of which Minho is looking for in his men.

You decide to try out, which makes Minho your boss.

Gally isn't very pleased, but you work where you're needed.

It's not that difficult, the worst part being not getting lost.

But Minho isn't going to leave you alone until you're ready.

Spending time with you, he learns you have a similar sense of humour.

And you've forgiven him for flooring you.

So, he starts crushing on you too.

As in my other headcanons, Alby really doesn't care about you.

Well, he does.

But just as another Glader.

Though he does appreciate the hard work you do, and the fact you keep the majority of his most problematic men distracted.

Newt is probably the person you're closest to.

Mainly because you never catch him staring at your ass or tits.

He's respectful.

And not attracted to you.

Because he's gay.

You're a fully fledged Runner by the time Thomas shows up.

You don't really think much of him at first.

Because absolutely no one did.

But he admired you.

He thought you were cool and skilled, very much the same way he looked up to Minho.

You were devastated when Thomas, Minho and Alby got stuck out in the Maze.

Gally tried his best to comfort you, but he didn't get very far.

"If anyone can survive the Maze; it's Minho."

"No one survives a night, Gally - we both know that."

Frypan's attempts weren't much better.

Newt was too busy figuring out how the heck he was going to run the Glade without Alby.

Yet, somehow, they both survived.

You don't think you've ever hugged someone as hard as you hugged Minho when you saw him.

Everyone's jealous of Minho for that.

Oh yeah, Teresa.

She showed up the day after Thomas.

You were thrilled to have another girl.

And then she wasn't conscious.

Bummer.

You kinda forgot about her after that.

Until she woke up, and everything went wrong in the Glade.

The sky disappearing, the Doors not closing, Grievers taking someone every night.

Including Alby.

And Gally disappeared.

A devastating blow.

You became one of the faces of the escape.

Cracking the code wasn't easy, but you all managed.

Thomas and Minho's theory about jumping into the void had you skeptical but you didn't have anything better to do than throw rocks off the Cliff for hours.

Thomas then gets stung.

And once awake, tells you how you were never meant to be in this Maze. You broke in, presumably to help your friends.

No wonder Newt and Minho wanted you to become a Runner.

Anyway, you escape.

Gally pops up again.

Kills Chuck.

RIP.

Thomas flips his lid.

And you escape.

Definitely not my best work but I really didn't know how to do this.

I'm stressed and I tried my best lmao.

Hope you're cool with that. Kinda.

:))

[lemotmo]

Not to balance out the ask or anything, but there's something I picked up on during the season. For the record I'm a buddie shipper but I'm not blind to the fandom's fault.

There's a leaker in twitter who posted vague stuffs during the season that turned out to be true; implying that Buck will kiss a man who isn't Eddie, Marisol being a former nun, karaoke scene being cut et cetera. I can't remember exactly when but it's most likely during the heights of Buddies being mad that the karaoke scene was cut (I don't think it's queerbaiting since the show already went past that since season 1 but I understand people being upset) the leaker posted something about "Guys please be nice" or something to tone down the backlash, despite he himself encouraging the fandom to be louder for the karaoke scene, go figure and then shortly after Tim made that post about the karaoke scene on his FB. I then assumed that he got wind of Tim getting fed up with people asking for the karaoke scene despite he himself volunteering to post that disregarding the song license stuff.

While I've seen how crazy some of the Bummys have been lately, I'm not ruling out the possibility that Tim's also getting fed up with us Buddies especially since he's been exposed longer to Buddies than Bucktommys; it's just he perceived the toxicity to be twofolds since it comes from two queer ships. The fact that Buddies on twitter, his primary social media source of gauging fandom reaction before he decided to call it quits, has new people who uses similar modus operandi as some Tevans operate to farm engagement and content, makes the possibility of the toxicity among Buddie fandoms raising there to be higher.

I guess my takeaway is just for us to quietly ship harder on Buddie without engaging in the same kind of toxicity Kinleys are doing. Just focus on the good things on Buddie (and Bucktommy if you multiship), don't drag down actors/actresses or love interests they play to the same extent *they* did (in general, if you think your ship is THAT good finding every small detail to discredit other love interests is not needed because your own foundation should be enough) as your anon said, Tim can feel hurt from criticism so as long as the grievances were expressed in a more civil manner it should be good for us.

Yes Nonny. I agree.

The karaoke scene debacle is certainly a really good example of where the Buddie fandom went too far. I get the disappointment. I was disappointed too, but I ranted about it to the mutuals, took a deep breath and moved on.

I know that some people on Twitter (and even here on Tumblr) most definitely overreacted to that scene being cut. I don't know if I remember it right, but a few of the most crazy Buddie stans even sent him nasty messages. The fact that Tim had to publicly react wasn't very flattering for our fandom.

To me it's the way he reacted that stands out here. From his tone (which is always hard to gauge in a written message) he seemed calm but annoyed with the fans who kept on asking for that scene. He even admitted to liking Buddie and wanting to give this to the fans.

After that, most Buddie fans got the message and stopped demanding to release the scene, with the few exceptions of course. 🤷‍♀️ Whenever the karaoke scene comes up these days, it's mostly people asking nicely.

This last Tim interview felt very different. It was a direct call out to the BT people who had bullied and threatened some of the 911 cast and crew, to the point that some of them had to be blocked. These people kept on running to Tim's Facebook DMs to then post them on Twitter to 'bludgeon another part of fandom'. That's a direct call out, which is on a whole other level than the karaoke debacle.

But ultimately I completely agree with your conclusion. It is very important to keep the positivity and civility while shipping Buddie (and BT if you multi-ship). In that regard Tumblr is very different from Twitter. Although there are definitely a lot of great Buddie fans on Twitter who aren't afraid to call out toxic behaviour within our own fandom, which is a good buffer to keep out the worst of the toxicity.

Fandoms are fandoms. A certain level of toxicity will never be able to be avoided. All we can do is, like you said, quietly keep on shipping Buddie and keep it all respectful towards others.

Hope you have a great day Nonny!

[dayseternal-blog]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. spread the self-love ❤

Bunny-senpai!!! 💕

I answered an ask similar to this one last year in March and I don't think my answers have changed...

I rewrote each blurb haha, so it's not an exact copy-paste from before.

1 “It’s No Secret” - Rated M, High School AU, Multi-chapter, Incomplete. Hinata returns to Konoha after 5 years studying abroad in the Moon Kingdom. She just wants to enjoy her last year of high school as a normal girl, but blossoming love forces her to confront her future. - My top fave. Back then, I wrote this like I was possessed. This story consumed my mind, and I was posting chapters every 1 or 2 weeks. I'm amazed at myself from back then. No, it's not my technically best writing, but I was having so much fun thinking up all kinds of scenes!!! Oh, to be a fanfic writing newbie all over again. Major love to everyone who's read this flirty teenage shenanigans mess and enjoyed it!!! One day I will write part two 🥺

2 “Nightdreams” - Rated E, Canon-Divergent AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. Naruto and Hinata find comfort in each other after the war. - This fic idea came to me sometime after I read agitosgirl's "A Special Friend," and I wanted Moooooore!!! I wanted more of this hurt/comfort dynamic between NaruHina!!!! So bam, the fic almost wrote itself, it flowed so easily (except for when it didn't). I'm so happy that people reread this fic, and then tell me that they're rereading it :D. Once in awhile I reread it, too, and think, oh, I should fix that sentence, or whatever loll, but I don't. I kind of think it's nice to leave it as it is, imperfect in little ways to bother me. Please read this fic and recognize that I was copying Katarinahime's writing techniques throughout.

3 “Awkward Jocks” - Rated G, 1990s High School AU, Multi-chapter, Complete. She knows that if he were to ever ask her out, she would accept in a heartbeat. After all, he’s the star quarterback and basketball player. Plus, she’s liked him since…forever. But when her home phone rings, and he’s on the other line, she hangs up. - It's interesting to me that even after all the fics I've written over the years, it's a few of my oldest fics that take the top 3. I guess I really have been trying to write for myself since the start. This one is based off of my ex-coworker's love story. Even though I don't work with her anymore, I still think of her as my role model for good leadership. When you read this, I hope you can feel how much I love her!

4 “About You” - Rated G, 1970s High School AU, One-shot. A summer job at the Dole pineapple cannery, graveyard shift 10 PM to 6 AM. A long bus ride into and out of town. Two teens, shy beside each other. - This is my most personal fanfic. Based on stories my parents told me and stories I found online from people of their generation, I tried to dive into their time using NaruHina. Ever since I was inspired to write after reading emmykay's "Torch Song," I had wanted to write a fic with Japanese-Hawaiian pidgin dialogue. This fic is close to my heart, but it's not higher on the list because there are inaccurate details that bother me 😅. I'm thinking of writing a fic about my great grandparents' generation one day, I've done a ton of research for it! Anyway, I'm so happy that others love this fanfic, too.

5 “Matcha” from “Shared Vows” - Rated T, Canon-Compliant, One-shot. Naruto calls Hiashi “father” for the first time. - According to my previous blurb, I picked this one because I loved how I structured it, I thought I wrote it really well. I also loved the notion of Naruto finding his own family. On deeper reflection, I think I also picked this one over "Finally Home" because I have a not-so-secret agenda for reconciliation between Hinata and Hiashi, fed by my own family's dynamic with my dad.

If I were to recommend any one of these for someone to read, I'd say they should start with Nightdreams or Matcha as an intro to some of my work since canon universe fanfic is always easier to digest.

[rhysdarbinizedarby]

‘Night Court’ – ‘The Duke’s a Hazard’ Post-Mortem Interview with Rhys Darby

NIGHT COURT -- "The Duke's a Hazard" Episode 212 -- Pictured: Rhys Darby as Alistair -- (Photo by: Nicole Weingart/NBC)

Rhys Darby is an accomplished actor and comedian that has graced many a popular and iconic franchise with his many skills in both arenas, and this week… he graced another. For Rhys played Alistair, the refined love of one Donna ‘Gurgs’ Gurganous on this week’s episode of Night Court on NBC, and we had the distinct honor of sitting down with Rhys to discuss all things, Night Court.

John Betancourt: I would love to start off by getting to know what it was that attracted you to the character of Alistair?

Rhys Darby: Well, I know the show, Night Court, watched it as a kid with my mum, have fond memories, and she passed a while ago. So, I felt like “I've got to do this, I want to do this for mum, because we used to watch the show together back in the day.” And the character, I can easily fit into those shoes. It's someone who's a posh Duke, that is a little bit clueless, looks down their nose at people but needs to try to fit in and needs to learn how to be bit more human. So those are all those kinds of traits that I like playing, I find the comedy that comes from that character is well within my wheelhouse. So, I decided to do it.

John Betancourt: Something I’ve noticed about Night Court that I think is wonderful, is how the quirks of every guest star are fully fleshed out in every episode. How did you as an actor bring those to life and make them feel so real?

Rhys Darby: I think that's the key with comedy is, make it look realistic. Because as soon as -- you can kind of over accentuate things to a degree, but it's got to be believable. And when you go past that line of believability, you don't relate. And I think it's finding that right line and kind of swaying and playing on that line. And that's where you get the physical comedy. You know, people in general don't necessarily, aren't necessarily hilarious when they're doing something physical. Unless well, certainly when, unless it's done by accident, in which case you do that thing where you laugh at someone and then you go, “Oh, I shouldn't have.” But you know, it's one of the reasons America's Funniest Home Videos was such a huge hit. But it's kind of like trying to find a grounded, slightly grounded character that is also an open buffoon. And you've got to fit the tone right of the show. And once I started working with the cast, I’d already seen some episodes of the new Night Court. So, I knew what the what the vibe was. And it's always been silly. So, it's always been like, a touch out of touch of reality. And that's my favorite type of comedy. So, it was it was easy to fit in.

John Betancourt: Now you’ve spent a lot of your career working in single camera shows, but you have done multi-cam. What do you have to do as an actor to prepare for that kind of shift?

Rhys Darby: Yeah, I forgot a little bit because I've done multi-cam a few years ago, I forgot how many times the script changes. So, I’d turn up at the beginning of the week, and like, start learning the lines. And then the next day, it's changed, the next day it’s changed again. So, by halfway through the week, I was like “Right, forget the lines. Just concentrate on being funny.” (Laughter) And the other, the other part of it so yeah, so prep isn't a big one. It's really kind of like, the fun of nailing the two different parts of it, which are the prerecorded pieces, which I had fun, I was able to do some improv in, so the subway scene. And then, and then there was a couple of other scenes, but there's that side of it. And then there's the completely opposite side where you've got an audience and you're performing in front of a crowd.

So, it's the best of both worlds. And I kind of kind of forgot, I think I kind of forgot that some stuff is recorded. And I was like, “Okay, we've got to learn this like a play.” And you don't. So, on the night, you also get a few takes, you know, and the crowd loves it when you guys change it up, when the writers come in and go “Try this line. Try that line.” So, yeah there’s fun to be had. And I can see why multi-cams are still a thing because it's a real coming together of all of these different kinds of features, to including the audience, that are that are participating in and helping create the final product and making this classic American art form. So, I think it's cool.

John Betancourt: So, I have to ask, how much of that improv stayed in the final cut?

Rhys Darby: There were some pieces, yeah. There were some… I have to have another look at it. But definitely in the subway scene when I took my coat off, and it fell on the ground. And then I just said something about “That's gone, we have to burn it.” That was all made up. There was probably another little piece that I had with Dave Foley, when we're having the dinner table all sorted, we're having little cups of tea, when he came in. And then stylistically I just chose how I was going to walk and how I was going to look, give my looks to the actors. And I changed that up every time as well. So, there was for, for a show that you know, for multi-cam, that definitely don't allow too much improv, there was certainly… the director was open to letting me have a few, do a few extra “Darby Takes,” shall we say?

John Betancourt: Now something that has come up often in discussions with the Night Court cast, is how the live audience just offers a vibe or energy. I’m curious as to what it does for you as an actor?

Rhys Darby: Well, as a stand up, you know, I'm used to having an audience laugh at me. It helps with the timing, it helps… give you a slightly raised performance, because you can hear a whole bunch of people laughing. So, you're not… you're doing.. you're matching the right tone that is required for that show. So, you're not, you know, subtleties aren't really going to play. So, yeah, I think it's just fun to do. It's fun for anyone who hasn't done that kind of thing. It's a good discipline to have down, at least give them a try.

John Betancourt: So, I can hear it in your voice now, just how much you relished this experience, what did you enjoy the most about working on this episode?

Rhys Darby: I think just working with the cast, I think, you know, meeting John (Larroquette) and the rest of them and having them be a real sweet family and welcoming me as a guest onto the show, working with Dave Foley again, because I haven't worked with him for a long time. So, catching up with him. And just being on a show, that's a bit of an institution. You know, I think those are the those are all the highlights, and the fact that it was just filming down the road from my house. So very easy.

John Betancourt: Oh, I bet the short walk made it amazing.

Rhys Darby: I don't often, I don't often get that. Because I'm always, like, having to fly somewhere or go stay somewhere for a couple of months or whatever. So that convenience, plays a lot into actors, jobs, it doesn't always happen.

John Betancourt: Now, regarding the legacy of the show, why do you think Night Court continues to endure?

Rhys Darby: Well, a number of things, the writing, you know, John Larroquette’s performance. And I think that just the nature of the show. How every week, you're gonna get a different situation of people that are in court, for some reason, for the most stupid idea, stupid reasons. And the interplay between the characters and their lives. It's just simply said, it's just a really good setting for a sitcom.

John Betancourt: Last question I have for you today, what does it mean to you personally to now be part of this franchise?

Rhys Darby: It means a lot. Because I've done a lot of stuff in my career. And I've been lucky enough to be part of some pretty big franchises, some pretty cool legacies. And when it comes to comedy, this was one of them. So that's why it was a no brainer to take. And yeah, and seeing the final result, seeing how funny it was, I was like, “Good, nailed it! Next!” (Laughter)

This interview has been lightly edited and condensed for clarity.

Source: Nerds That Geek

[winchestergirl2]

April Reading Recs

This month has been quite a busy (and stressful) one, so I didn't get the chance to read as much as I would have liked too (I still have quite a few to catch up on). However, below is a list of the gems that I did get to read.

To show some love and appreciation to all the amazing writers here on tumblr, here are all the fantastic fics I've read this month. 💖

Many of these fics and blogs are 18+ only, and NSFW please heed the author's individual fic warnings and requests regarding no minors. I am not responsible for your media consumption.

Reading Recs Masterlist

Big Sky

Beau Arlen

Take Me Home Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | @zepskies

Authors Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from. 

A Good Man Is Hard To Find @zepskies

Authors Summary: When Beau starts pulling away from you and Emily during a very difficult case, will the pressure make or break your relationship?

A Crime of Passion @zepskies

Authors Summary: When Beau Arlen decides to “make it up to you,” he’s damn thorough.

Light My Fire (Again) Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | @raised-u-fr0m-perdition

Authors Summary: “I thought I’d swore off love, Jenny.” I smiled, chuckling a bit as I looked down to my feet then back up the skies, taking in the twinkling lights. “God, I really thought I did, and I was doing such a good job at it too. But, well, I just… I couldn’t help it.” I wet my lips slightly, biting the bottom one. “It’s improper, but it’s true.”

The Ghosts Are Coming For You Part 2 @thebiggerbear

Authors Summary: When you moved to Montana, you figured you’d be in for a much quieter, more slow-paced lifestyle compared to the big city one you had left behind. Meeting Lewis and Clark County’s youngest sheriff while working a string of murders in your new position in Homicide turns out to be anything but — especially when things start to hit a little too close to home and remind you of things you thought you’d left buried long ago.   

Supernatural

Sam Winchester

Opportunity @saxxxology

Authors Summary: Dean’s sleeping with Cassie, and your feelings are a little more than hurt. Sam takes the opportunity to show you that he can please you better than his brother can.

Untitled Sam drabble @supernaturalfreewill

Dean Winchester

Stay With Me @impala-dreamer

Authors Summary: ~Dean is into his second bottle of whiskey, desperate to drive his problems away. But he knows deep down, the booze isn't what he truly needs...~

Dark Angel

The Road To The Good Place @glygriffe

Ben (x5 493)

Authors Summary: From the Fanfic Lounge weekly challenge prompt: Your character gets to heaven only to find that the judgment is entirely based on how many promises they've broken.

Multi Fandom

Beau Arlen | Soldier Boy

French Boys @waynes-multiverse

[asshlyyyy]

Besides You

This is for all my people who are having a rough day. I've had this in my drafts for quite some time and didn't know where to take it. I hope you enjoy this, and I can't wait to get more out to you guys! Hopefully I'll have some one-shots coming up while I continue work on the multi-part fics.

If anyone knows why my posts have been doing terribly also... let me know. My posts have been... not doing quite as well as they should be. I'm not complaining it is just frustrating when you look at your follower to like ratio. My posts are showing up in tags... I just don't know what's happening.

Masterlist

Pairing: Elvis (or Austin!Elvis) x gn!reader

Warnings: Slight sexual themes, swearing, spelling and grammatical errors most likely. If I missed anything please let me know.

Word Count: 1.1k

“Hey darlin’, everything all right?” You heard Elvis speak from the door frame. You hummed and looked over at him. “Ya haven’t come down yet.” You gave him a weak smile. 

“I know… just… I’m just having an off day is all.” You replied back with a simple shrug. Though it more looked like an awkward movement due to you laying down.

You felt so bad. God… you felt so so bad. It wasn’t fair to Elvis. You were extremely happy with Elvis. That wasn’t the issue at bay. Your depression just made everything worse. You had these episodes now and again. These could appear at any moment, so you could really never prepare for them, which is why it wasn’t fair for Elvis. He shouldn’t have to deal with your… illness. 

“Mind if I join ya?” He asked with a slight smile on his face. 

You smiled softly and nodded, “though I don’t want to hold you back, Elvis.” 

“You can never hold me back, darlin’. I always want to be beside you.” He said softly and laid down on the bed next to you. You let out a break and shook your head.

“I just feel like I’m constantly holding you back.” You confessed to him. It was the first time you let those words come out of your mouth. You never told him about this. You didn’t want him to worry about you any more than he did. He looked at you confused. You brought your hand up to his shirt and played with his buttons.

“What do you mean? You’re never holding me back.” Elvis shook his head. 

“Remember all those things you wanted to do? Those that you wanted me to join you with? I would say no sometimes… and then you just wouldn’t do them. I… I don't want you to not do something just because I’m not in the mood.” You explained to Elvis. He brought his hand up to your head and ran his fingers through your hair. 

“Do me a favor, sweetheart. Look at ya ring finger there. What do ya see?” You looked at him confused but brought your hand up to your face. You looked at your engagement ring and wedding band. 

“The engagement ring you gave me, and the wedding band that binds us together.” You answered him. You looked past your hand and towards his blue eyes. 

“Exactly,” he used his finger to caress your cheek. You blushed lightly and pressed your face against his chest. “I married you because I love you for who you are. Just because ya have a few flaws don’ mean I don’ love ‘em. I love every single inch of you. From the top of your head to the ends of your toes.” He poked your stomach.

You let out a small giggle and looked up at him, “you’re so silly.” 

“Only for you of course.” You rolled your eyes playfully and pulled away. You pushed yourself up into a seated position and faced him. 

“Thank you.”

“Why are ya thankin’ me for?” He rubbed your thigh gently. 

“Because you’ve done a lot for me.” You grabbed his hand and interlocked your fingers together, “From putting up with my mood swings, joining me on my off days, holding me when I’m crying and not forcing me to speak about my feelings… to not ask why I’m crying. You don’t see me as a crybaby. You see me as a person.”

“I see you as the most perfect person I’ve eva met.” Elvis rested his forehead against yours. 

“Oh stop,” you giggled lightly as you slapped his chest lightly.

“‘M being serious,” he chuckled lightly and pulled away so that he could look at you. Your e/c orbs rolled in playfulness and pulled yourself far away from him. “Without you, I don’ know where I would’ve been in ma life. As cliche as it sounds… ya shaped me into who I am today.”

“Well… you shaped me into who I am today. Without you… I could've been dead, who knows.” You shrugged and got out of bed, feeling much better than you did beforehand. 

“I have a feelin’ God made it so we found each other. I believe in every universe… or different timeline… we would have found each other. We complete one another.”

“Okay lover boy, get out of bed.” You pulled the sheets off. “I have to clean these.”

“They can survive another night.”

“Elivs… these need to be cleaned. Especially after what happened yesterday morning.” You pointed out to him as you rolled the sheet over your hands.

“I have no idea what you are talkin’ about,” he said as a smirk found its way onto his lips. You rolled your eyes and walked over to the basket. You had to use whatever energy you had currently and get these chores done.

“Why don’ I help ya?” Elvis suggested. You looked over at him confused. It wasn’t like he never offered to help before, but when it came to laundry he tended to… shy away. He didn’t want to end up fucking something up. Like… accidentally shrinking his clothes, or turning his whites to pink.

“Are you sure? You can go ahead and do other things, I don’t mind.” You answered as you continued to peel the bed sheets off. 

“‘M sure. I want to make this day easy and enjoyable for you.” You smiled at his kind words and looked over at him. God, you were so lucky to call him yours. You always viewed him as the poor boy you met. The fame and fortune… it was something you never saw. You viewed it more as… he got a raise. It was silly but…

You knew how stressful Elvis got when it came to fame and fortune. You also knew that he loved to spend his fortune. Especially when it came to you. He loved to shower you with new things, and you loved every minute of it. Yet, you made sure he knew that you didn’t need anything. You had him, and that was all that mattered. He was all you needed.

“You’re all I need Elvis,” you whispered, “being near you makes everything easy and enjoyable.” 

“Oh darlin’,” he smiled and made his way over to you. “You’re all I need also.”

Elvis pressed his lips against yours and pulled you down onto the bed with him. You let out a light squeal before you kissed back. You brought your hands up to his face and smiled. Elvis was all you needed on a bad day. 

Sorry this was so short. Sometimes, there are certain things that need to be short. Just because they are short don't mean that they don't have meaning. I know I love writing longer things, but sometimes I can't force it out of me to write longer fics.

Mutual Taglist: @babyhoneypresley, @emmymaehereeeeee, @venus-haze, @austinstyles

[olderthannetfic]

All this talk of fic deletion or orphaning has got me thinking back to a multi chapter fic I submitted to AO3 late March of last year.

In the beginning I was proud of it, because it was the first fic I had put up on my page after a year and a half long writers’ block. I used to be so happy that I made something and I was even inspired to write a few shorter fics after that for the same source media.

But as time went on, I started to doubt that story I put on the Archive back in March ‘22.

I started noticing every single flaw it had, without thinking of its merits. (I’m starting to wonder if it had any merits to begin with.)

To name its flaws off the top of my head, there's no nuance or gray morality (Protagonist Right, Antagonist Wrong, played completely straight), one character gets kidnapped just to give the protagonist someone to angst over and rescue, the protagonist is portrayed as if he's already learned the lesson from the very end of his canon arc (to fight for the future instead of being stuck in the past) and this AU takes place in the middle of his arc, and finally, the ending is a long, drawn out mess that I needed to trim significantly.

So now, in February 2023, I think about this fic and regret it deeply. I should have given it more time. I should've been really thinking about each scene I wrote, why I wrote it and how it serves the story. I should have given more thought to the type of story I was telling!

Instead I put it out on the Archive with very little wait time and I see no way to fix it outside of a complete overhaul (which I do not have time or energy to do.)

I truly don't know what to do.

I also do not understand why my readers never pointed this story's flaws out to me in comments, when I can see them clear as day.

I've been told to leave it up as a way to show my growth, to move on because what's complete is complete and there's nothing more to be done with that particular project. Most of all, I've been told time and time again not to be too hard on myself, but I don't know any other way to be.

Writing a contrived, cliched, horrible mess of a thing is nothing to be proud of, after all. I'm not a beginner, this isn't my first ever fic, English is my first and only language, and I have read enough books to know and do better.

I have no excuse for writing something so shameful.

--

This sounds like mental illness, not a realistic assessment of your fic.

Besides, what's so shameful about bad writing? Lots of people who aren't that young and have been writing for a while still post fairly crummy fic to big archives. That's nothing new and not a big deal.

I think you should leave the fic up as is, but I also think you need to address this mindset because it cannot be healthy for you.

[thirteen-jades]

hi Gamer! :3

1. Games you’re currently playing?

2. Do you like playing with mods?

5. Games you’ve played in the past 12 months that you really enjoyed?

8. A game you played completely blind with no prior knowledge of and enjoyed/loved?

13. A series you’ve enjoyed since your early days of gaming and still enjoy to this day whether it still has games coming out or is one you return to? damn, i wish i'd asked nee-san this one, i missed it earlier...

14. A character you particularly like in the game you’re currently playing?

19. A game you didn’t finish but would like to get back to or restart someday

23. A game ending that’s really stuck with you

32. Game you think you’ll finish next?

35. What's your favorite genre of game?

56.Multi-player or single player?

57. Ask anything you wish!: Games you're looking forward to playing soon?

❤

1. Games you’re currently playing?

OSRS, Ace Combat 4, and Old World are the main ones I think? Also Wartales whenever the GOG and Steam versions sync so we can actually do that again

2. Do you like playing with mods?

I tend to default to not modding things just because for a long time mods never really seemed to work right for me in just about anything I tried to apply them to. I've been doing it more though, and I think they're frequently quite good.

5. Games you’ve played in the past 12 months that you really enjoyed?

Armored Core 6 has to take the #1 spot here I think, but there's a bunch of others too. In no particular order, Old World, Old School Runescape, Ace Combat 4, Age of Empires 2, and... probably a lot of others I'm forgetting. I think I first played Wartales more than a year ago, but I've really been enjoying the recent playthrough again

8. A game you played completely blind with no prior knowledge of and enjoyed/loved?

Dark Souls. That game was an absolute blast, even if I was remarkably bad at it at first. One of the few things that's gotten me so immersed/distracted that I actually forgot to do homework/school-related responsibilities.

13. A series you’ve enjoyed since your early days of gaming and still enjoy to this day whether it still has games coming out or is one you return to? damn, i wish i'd asked nee-san this one, i missed it earlier...

Oh, I'd have to think here. Starcraft was my old favorite for sure, but I've sorta fallen off the train with that one, so to speak. I'm not sure there's much left that I still play from my early days? I think if I had to pick *something* for an answer, it would be Lego Racers. I really liked that as a kid. Should go back and replay them sometime

14. A character you particularly like in the game you’re currently playing?

None of the games I'm currently playing are particularly heavily character-focused I think, unless I'm forgetting one. If we include TTRPGs, then my PC for Skull & Shackles. Otherwise maybe my character's daughter from that one Old World campaign that snuck out of her room three nights in a row to go fuck some other noble family's daughter. I really liked her

19. A game you didn’t finish but would like to get back to or restart someday

There's a lot of them, but Gothic 2 and Planescape: Torment both come to mind

23. A game ending that’s really stuck with you

Mary Skelter 2. You know why

32. Game you think you’ll finish next?

Ace Combat 4 tonight, probably/hopefully!

35. What's your favorite genre of game?

RPGs, particularly when they actually remember what the first two letters of the acronym stand for

56. Multi-player or single player?

Never choose "or" when "and" is on the table

57. Ask anything you wish!: Games you're looking forward to playing soon?

Many! AC4, AC 6-7, trying out Runescape 3, the eventual AC6 DLC/expansion, probably some others that are eluding me still. Maybe Elin sometime too

[barbwillbrb]

*peeks and watches you from afar with binoculars*

🐎

*scribbles down monster fucker, Rolan lover and ?????*

Big Rolan lover (I also super relate to him). On that topic-- while I do enjoy various interpretations of Rolan, I draw/make content for sub!Rolan and pair him with my tav/OC Rackal when I do so (see his tag tav: rackal on my page for info about him).

Let's seeeeeee what else:

-I guess I'm a multi-shipper (I think that's the term fandom uses these days)? I pair my OCs with NPCs as well as my friendos' OCs (@faerunsbest's Ma'na and Sybyll appear here a lot, and @ladyofcrowsandcoffee's Isadora), and have various AUs for everything. I ship a lot of stuff and am too old to get into shipping wars-- instead I build FLEETS.

-My big fandoms atm that I am producing content for are BG3 and the Magnus Archives/Protocol. But other fandoms I enjoy include: Mass Effect, Stardew Valley, and Old Gods of Appalachia (although I am a bit behind).

-Uuuuuuhhhh I have had clinical OCD for years with horrid intrusive thoughts, so occasionally I pop off about that (especially when I see folks using the term "intrusive thoughts" interchangeably with "impulsive thoughts"-- that kinda talk is dangerous and can send OCD sufferers spiraling)

-In addition to digital and traditional illustration, I also work with air-dry clay and have taught myself to wire-wrap jewelry. I've even started selling some of my work at local fairs over the past year.

-I graduated with a degree in English Literature/General Rhetoric (even wrote an undergrad thesis to obtain honors for it) and have been working in an academic library for several years now (I am NOT a librarian, as this requires an MLIS; I've considered going to school for it, but recently came to the decision that I can't really afford to go). Despite that being my degree, I have pretty bad imposter syndrome with my non-academic writing and have only started writing fiction again recently. I also just started writing fanfic a few weeks ago!

-I love watching Let's Plays, especially as I am very picky with what games I actually like playing (for example, I do not enjoy playing first-person shooters or horror games, but like watching them) but want to keep up with the stories.

[dutchforstrangers]

Coping with loss - Taiora scene for 'Here With You'

For @taioraweek 2023 Day 5

[1] [2] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7] [8]

A/N: First of all, not my best writing at all. Second, a little explanation. I came up with a long multi chapter story that I call 'Here With You'. It's canon-compliant -for all we know- up till the 02's epilogue. From there on it's all speculations. The story is about Taichi who's a widower, mourning over the loss of his wife Rei (Saiba, from V-Tamers) and Sora, who divorced Yamato. The Sora and Yamato being divorced is based on a theory I've written about how the epilogue might staged a possible Sorato divorce. Never published it publicly, only in the Taiora Discord Server. This piece is a possible scene for that fic. Maybe I'll write it in full one day, maybe I don't. We'll see. For now, enjoy this thing.

Day 5: Jealousy | Characters: Sora Takenouchi (POV), Taichi Yagami | Genre: Hurt/comfort I think? | Rating: T | Wordcount: 1.524

Looking at her picture on top of the piano, it came to Sora how many resemblances they had. She had always found Rei quite impressive with her natural energy and sparkly personality, her beauty was unmatched in her eyes. Sora had always felt less compared to her, but looking at her picture, the flickering light of the candle shining a light on Rei’s hair and features, she saw the similarities more clear.

The biggest difference was that Sora was here and Rei was definitely not.

Sora glanced at Taichi, who stood next to her. His face looked calm.

“Do you ever miss her?” She asked him impulsively. It was obvious he did, Sora knew, still she asked him and she immediately regretted it. “Sorry, of course you miss her. I just—”

“No, it’s fine, Sora.” Taichi calmly responded, his eyes still glued to his late wife’s picture. “Yes, I miss her. I really do, just… not every day.”

The way he said it seemed genuine to Sora, yet no matter how many times he would say he was fine, she never believed he was fully honest with himself. She knew he was good at concealing what he felt and to the outside world, it always looked like Taichi was fine. That he was cool about anything and everything. Behind the mask, however, was a pain indescribable.

“I used to, the first year after Rei’s death,” Taichi continued. “That first year was tough and I thought about her each and every day. Until there was one day— it was at the end of the day that I realized I hadn’t thought of her, not even for one second. I cried that night and I felt so… unfaithful? To her, to who she was, to the bond she and I had and even to myself. I punished myself for forgetting about her and I forcefully tried to commemorate Rei every single hour of each and every day. But as you know, it made everything worse instead of better and I slipped into a deep and dark hole.”

Sora nodded. Images of Taichi trying to navigate through life again these past few years after that big of a loss, played in front of her eyes like a movie. Sora could only imagine what he had gone through, her own situation being nothing compared to his.

She admired him for his strength and how he eventually coped with all if it. It was a long way and it hadn’t been easy, still, he managed and came out as an even more caring man and loving father. Sora wondered what exactly had made Taichi be able to move forward again.

Her eyes scanned Taichi for answers. As if he felt her asking for them, he inhaled. A faint smile appeared on his face, his own gaze still consumed by Rei’s picture.

“Then, at some point, I was reminded of one of the last conversations I had with her. Before Rei died, she made me promise a few things and among those promises was one to always choose happiness over mourning. To always choose love over my feelings to be loyal to her even after her death. It took me a while to figure out what exactly she meant –to be exact three years— but once I figured it out it made me see that remembering her and being happy could co-exist. She basically told me to fall in love again when the time was ripe.”

Taichi’s head then turned to Sora and their eyes locked. Sora’s heart stopped for a moment, unsure of what it meant.

“Until now that didn’t happened, not in that deep connection-way at least.” Taichi said. Her heart dropped again and nerves crept up on her, making her shift her gaze away from Taichi and to Rei’s picture again.

In Sora’s eyes, Taichi deserved the world. She wished for him to be happy again in the best way possible. She wished for him to have and feel that kind of love again. But after hearing him say that, she felt the bitter feeling similar to jealousy.

Admittedly, for brief moments after her divorce from Yamato, Sora had let the thought of her and Taichi being each other’s consolation come and go. Except that it would never be the answer. She knew. She thought. Yet she wasn’t completely sure.

“Besides, the most important thing in all of this is that it brought me to where I am now.”

Sora felt the soft touch of his warm hand on her shoulder. She sharply turned her head back to look at Taichi again. “And where is that?” She asked.

“Here.” He stated with the kindest of cheeky smiles. “Standing in front of her picture, candle burning, I’m commemorating her in a healthy way…”

There wasn’t an end to his sentence. Sora held her breath for a second, not sure about what he was going to say, but knowing it would probably be something cheesy.

“And I’m here with you.”

She was right. The softness in his voice made her relax, as if he was telling her everything was still possible. The corners of her mouth made her lips curl into a kind and understanding smile.

“You are,” she eventually replied, any bitter feeling left steadily flowing away.

They stood there for a little while and the beating of Sora’s heart increased its pace while drowning in the depths of Taichi’s dark brown globes. What felt like an hour were mere seconds.

“You know Sor,” Sora tried to think back to the last time he had called her by that nickname, at the same time remarking he was trying to turn the tension, “you should start choosing happiness and love over mourning too!”

A bitter feeling returned.

“But… I’m not mourning?” She asked both annoyed and confused. What was he trying? She took a very small step back.

“Yes you are.” That was a blunt way to put it, Sora thought to herself. “By divorcing Yamato you lost stability and a safe connection, those are things to mourn about just as much. I mean, it’s been what?”

She thought and realized it had already been half a year. “Six months…”

“Six months! I know it was all shitty with Yamato and the children and the divorce and all. You have mourned your losses and fixed what could be fixed. And by doing so, you set yourself aside. I get that, really, but don’t you think now’s the time to pursue your own happiness and luck?”

Sora raised an eyebrow at him. The softness he had shown her just before was replaced by utter… excitement? The assumption this was Taichi’s way of coping with her problems passed Sora’s thoughts and in an odd way it felt like him bragging to her. About his own process, showing her how great he came out of it.

It annoyed her. So “I guess?” was her answer.

Maybe there was a truth in it.

“I think Rei would have said the same. No, actually, to put it in teenager Rei words: Sora, you need to get laid.”

The smug smile on Taichi’s face sent Sora into states she had no idea she could reach anymore.

“E-excuse you?!”

“You’ve heard me.” Taichi said and Sora knew he was still able to get under her skin in so many different ways. “You’re in desperate need of some loving connection to get you over that mourning a bit. Find yourself a man that makes you feel good and sexy and loved or… I don’t know, whatever suits you. Hell, for all I know, it could also be a woman!”

“Taichi…” Sora rolled her eyes.

She wasn’t right most likely, but the way he was talking to Sora made her think he was trying to show her he had decided to cope with his wife’s death by getting it on with more than one woman because Rei had said so. She couldn’t help but to feel he was sort of bragging, right? And so Sora justified it in her head.

Speaking about this though, I know a guy…” He continued once more.

“Taichi, please.”

The bitter feeling kept growing. Though where she had been annoyed at first, it felt more closely to the jealousy she felt earlier.

Jealous of what exactly, she thought. Sora wasn’t particularly jealous of the woman Taichi –maybe, apparently— had been with.

“A colleague of mine went through a divorce too a little less than a year ago and he’s your type! Blonde, likes playing music…

“Taichi!”

No. She was jealous of what Rei had told him when she left, giving him the ability to be open to new love connections.

“What? It’s a perfect match! So I’m going to fix you that date and you can thank me on your bare knees for it after you are ‘satisfied’, heh.”

Sora’s face turned bright red, completely robbed from any form of reaction to Taichi’s ideas. Downright annoyed with him, yet envying him in so many ways all the same.

Perhaps she was just jealous of him not choosing her for that love connection…

[strangeartistic]

A guilt stricken soldier

Hey! Sorry for being inactive, I'm getting really unmotivated lately to the point I almost quit art, but hey, art is my true nature and yet that feeling is just me being paranoid or whatever

Now let me yap about this↓

Anyways, I've been hyper fixated on a comic series called 'world war 3000', a multi deviant science fiction , the comic does not take place in tf2 despite the fact the models used is from tf2. I won't spoil the whole thing unfortunately but you could take a peak of the lore and wiki here

And if you want to read it. Here's the link to the first season

World war 3000 season one. Part 1

And about the character in the art, his name is Pericles, a character that was introduced before the beginning of season 4 and possibly at the ALMOST very end of season 3. I've been hyper fixated on him for the past few days. Or months? I forgot.

I won't exactly spoil his whole character, I don't really like spoilers 🫶

Anyways, I had fun yapping. Enjoy the art 🎭

[livelovesimallways]

"Prayed Up....." 🎵

(Previous)

(Previous following Dana's story)

Moses and I finally arrived home a couple of days ago after an amazing honeymoon. We spent nearly three months traveling, relaxing and enjoying the best parts of what make us...us. After taking some time for ourselves, letting our friends and family know we were back became top priority. While I reached out on my end, Moses was reluctant to do the same. He says he wants to, "protect his peace", which leads me to believe something serious is going on. Although I fully understand where he is coming from, avoiding things never helps. I just hope that, "protecting his peace", doesn't make a situation worse or leave people in the dark.

Later on that day.....

"So hold on...Let me get this straight...Sean was messing around with that Julia chick outside of Dana's rules? Deanna found out and told her?"

"Basically..."

"Damn...I wonder why she didn't tell me? It seemed like everything was going well. She even sent me their finished wedding plan." *sounding confused*

"Maybe it is for her. She probably feels like what's done is done. Shit, my moms used to get like that whenever my father got caught."

"Humph...I remember having those days myself. You're probably right. Now I feel terrible. Dana isn't the type to come crying about her problems either. She'll tell you, but won't get emotional about it. She keeps a lot bottled up."

"Yeah she's a good ass person too. She don't deserve that shit." *looks down then shakes his head*

"So was this why you were avoiding calls?"

"I mean it's part of it. Sean's been like my brother since high school, but him still doing dumb shit just ain't sittin right with me. I thought he was makin progress but, that ain't the case. I don't know if I want to be around all that. Too much potential to have me in some shit."

"In some shit like?...."

"Being put on the spot to cover, or getting questioned over something he did."

"But that only happened once right?" *narrows her eyes*

"You really want me to answer that? Shit, we both know not to ask questions we really don't want the answers to. You're gonna feel obligated to tell her and neither one of us is trying to stir up past things. She knows what kind of dude she has. Obviously we want better for her, but she's sticking beside him. There's no need to dig."

*sighs* "Fine...I'll leave it alone. What's done in the dark always comes to light anyway, so..." *her phone starts ringing, cutting her off* "Oh look, it's Nica, another person you've been avoiding. I'll put it on speaker."

A Few Days Later.......

"I'm just not understanding why you won't tell your sister you're pregnant? Like, I know it's not ideal, but you're in a good place. You're starting your career at that tech giant and you can stay here as long as you want. It's nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me, I've seen worse. The train wreck that is my father is a great example, and he's a multi-millionaire. You have a village: your sister, me and my family. You just have to embrace it. "

"Look...Mimi I get you're trying to help, but please leave it alone. That's not why..." *get choked up*

"Then what is it? I'm here for you, seriously..."

*whispers* "Fuck...."

"Damn...Umm...I didn't mean to upset you. You don't have to..."

"No, I do. Just please don't judge until you hear everything. The reason why I'm scared to tell her is because it's Sean's baby..." *tells her their entire history*

"Whew...That's a lot." *pauses for a few seconds* "Sleeping with your sister's man is foul as fuck, Dee. I get the whole college and first love thing before they met, but she's the one with him now...Has been for the past what, six years? And now a baby? You have to tell her before she marries this man."

"I know...I will..."

"This is crazy but, as much as I want to rant, I feel bad for you. He's manipulated this entire situation since you were eighteen. He was twenty-four and he knew to take advantage of your naivety. Now he says he loves you? He's full of shit and is using that as a way to keep you quiet and around." *pauses in thought* "Shit!..."

"What's wrong?"

"Remember a few days ago you were throwing up a lot?"

"Yeah?..."

"Well, I got scared and called Nica for advice. She had a rough first trimester so I figured she could help. I told her it was for you."

"Do you think she told anyone?" *extra concerned*

"I mean, it's possible, but that was a few days ago. I feel like if your sister knew she would've been knocking on the door. I'm gonna call Nica and check. But regardless, Dana's gonna find out sooner or later. You can't hide a baby bump and Sean's family has some strong genes. When the baby comes out looking like him..."

"Girl!...I get it. Can you please just call your sister for me? I'll figure it out from there."

To Be Continued......

Next