#in which case i would give you a firm and loving high five

[theidiotwhowritesthings]

I love the voice you've given to Grogu in A Fresh Start. It's nice how you've managed to balance between maintaining his personality while exploring how he might grow a little given the right circumstances. All your characters have so much depth, and even more than the eventual smut, I am dying for the plot and the conflict resolution, from grogu missing the reader, to Nima and Cara, to Daelar.

OMG I'M SOBBING THANK YOU. That is the sweetest thing to say😭 I always worry about Grogu b/c he doesn't talk in the show so obviously I am treading new water AND he's gradually learning more and more so I have to show the growth so I'm always anxious it looks wrong. Hearing you say I've got a good balance makes me so so so happy!!

And BRUH. All of you have been so kind so this is my own anxiety talking right now, but I always worry that I'm only popular b/c people just want anything Din Djarin related and they want smut (which trust me I love a good smutty fic) but my favorite part of writing has always been plot and emotions. So to hear that somebody wants to see my plot lines and original characters just makes me so ecstatic (AND AGAIN, all of you have been so incredible with the love and it's not like a reader is making me feel this way it's just my own self doubt and anxiety i fight).

But, anyways, my point was THANK YOU. I've gotten the loveliest messages today from y'all and honestly you're spoiling me at this point lol.

[butchreg]

cg ! sevika headcanons !!

requested by @transsfish and @thekiddointhecorner ! i made it into one post bc both asked for headcanons and i thought it would just be neater to make one longer post instead of two smaller ones. honestly i don't have a ton of thoughts on her but i 100% see her as a caregiver for regressor ! jinx and isha so pullin' a bit from there. i love her a lot though :3 arcane masterlist here , upcoming list here

cw / tws : talk of smoking near the end

literally the most protective mama bear !! she's always holding your hand , making sure you're never too far from her. like vi she's not afraid to fight for you literally and if you ever stray too far she'll have all her typical goons on the case. she'd put you on a kiddo leash if she had to , being a firm mama especially when it comes to your safety. anyone who even looks at you funny gets a fist to the face, not to even mention those who dare say something rude.

she's not very physically affectionate, finding it difficult to let down her tough exterior but she's very verbally affectionate. she's always looking out for you, doing little things like blowing on your food to cool it down, "ah ah ah, careful now."

she's always chuckling at things you do which makes you feel all warm and cozy. she's gotta keep up her image of being the cold scary person most zaunites know her as but she's a real softie with you though she won't admit it to anyone else. anyone who tries to suggest this notion gets threatened with a fist but if you were to mention it she'd shake her head, chuckling. "got me there kid," she'll say ruffling your hair.

you call her mama bear due to her protectiveness. she'll call you her cub sometimes. most times, however, you're "kid".

she's not great at comforting you when you're upset but she does her very best. she'll let you cry or rant or whatever you need, giving you a gruff "i'm right here, kid." she'll pat your shoulder a bit awkwardly. "come on now, let it all out."

she's big on her coffee. you want to be just like mama and have some too ! you're always trying to sneak a sip from her mug. she never lets you... usually. one day she holds it out to you before you even ask. eagerly you take a big gulp only to spit it out immediately. "BLEGH!" she chuckles. "told ya you wouldn't like it, kid. how about some hot cocoa instead?" after that you don't ask for her coffee anymore. you always make a big stink when she's brewing it around you. how could it smell so good and taste so bad ?

mama sevika who carefully learns how to braid so she can do her cub's hair if you're a girl or even just a regressor with longer hair. with her prosthetic arm and bigger hands it takes a while for her to get the hang of it but she's super determined. she's so proud when she's done.

somedays she brings you into work, setting you up with some trinkets and little bits and bobs to play with on the floor next to her. if you get bored she'll explain her work to you or let you sit on her lap while she works. walking home together she holds your hand. "we had a good day today, huh kid?"

she's always making sure you drink enough water, getting you a clear bottle so she can see how much you've had. if you drink it all she's giving you a warm smile and a high five. she's quick to offer you praise. "nice job, cub." if you don't drink enough she's never angry but she gets worried about your health. "c'mon kid why don't you have a few more sips, we don't want you fainting now."

she's big on juice too. at mealtime she'll pour you a nice cool glass of apple juice. every other part of the day she'll push you to drink water but mealtime is juice time ! she's partial to apple herself but she'll buy whatever flavor you want though she may tease you good-naturedly if you're the type of kiddo who prefers orange juice over apple.

sevika who's typically a big smoker doing her best to cut back for you. she likes walking when it's cold enough for her to see her breath, she can almost pretend that it's smoke from a cigar. she tries chewing toothpicks but often gets cranky or moody when the cravings are worse.

sevika doesn't have tons of rules for you but she's very firm in the ones she does have, reminding you if you fuss that she's only trying to keep you safe. she doesn't really put up with fussing over her rules, she's very no nonsense. she'd never put a hand on you but she's not shy about giving you time outs or giving stern talking tos.

mama sevika who always carefully cuts up your food into tiny bites. she has you feed yourself unless you're extra tiny but she makes sure it's nice and easy for you to eat and that you won't choke. you do protest though when you find your spaghetti cut up because that means you can't swirl it on your fork.

[jjsfavgirl]

NSFW alphabet • j.maybank

Enjoy this!!

Warnings: p in v sex , oral m and f receiving , shower sex , dirty talk , fingering , aftercare , corruption kink , sex toys , dom! JJ , sub! JJ , dom! Reader , Sub! Reader , eating cum , oral fixation, size kink , smoking weed , mentions of UTI , male masturbation , talk of erections? , teasing , quickies.

18+

-

A- after care | JJ is BIG on taking care of you after you have sex, because of how rough he is afterwards he’s a big softie. Lets you wear his shirts, even sits with you in the bathroom checking on your while u pee as to avoid a UTI, he’ll then carry you back to bed place a kiss on your forehead then cuddle you till you both fall asleep.

B- body part | as much as he loves your personality my man is an ass man at heart, always squeezing your ass while you’re bouncing up and down on his cock, giving it it firm slap whenever you are just existing in your house. He always gives you his smaller boxers just so he can see your plump bum cheeks sneak through the bottom.

C- cum | my man cums HARD. Especially if he doesn’t masturbate for a while his white liquid comes out in strings after strings. He makes many jokes about being a proclaimed “artist” after he’s covered 90% of your body in his seed. Your face, your tits, your stomach,your ass, your thighs.

D- dick | JJ is fucking hung, he always thought he was average due to all the porn he’s watched. But when you first fooled around at the château, you were on your knees in front off JJ as he was man spread on John B’s couch when he quickly fumbled to open his belt and slide down his long cargo shorts which caused his large hard length to spring out of his boxers. He loves the thought of his big dick pressing against all the walls in your cervix , doing the stomach trick just to see him tip above your belly button.

E- experience | he had slept with quite a few girls before he met you, but once he did he stopped fooling around with girls out of respect in case you one day felt the same. He has experience on the sex side of things but he lacked the emotional connection with most his previous partners so when he met you he almost cried the first time you had sex. ( my poor touch starved baby ).

F- favourite position | he doesn’t understand all the really intricate positions he just thinks fucking is fucking and you don’t need to be mid twister match in order to have an orgasm. His favourite position is simple, you laying in his bed, his hands beside your head as he plowed into you from above, looking down at your orgasm face in awe.

G- goofy | his highness depends on how silly he is during sex. If he’s high he’ll be laughing and smiling the whole way through, it’s ten times worse if you’re both high, it’s just a laughing mess. But both fully sober and not in an intoxicated state he’s more serious.

H- hair | he has never once dared to try shave down there. Out of fear he might slice off his dick and also how much you begged him not to whenever he randomly brought up the subject of even trimming his pubes.

I- intimacy | the way he shows his intimacy during the act is with his words. He’s very vocal during sex. Doing so well for me baby , you can take it I know you can , c’mon princess cum for me , you’re so beautiful , m’fuck love this pussy.

J- Jack off | he is just as feral with masturbating as he is with sex, he’s cut down on his masturbation since you started dating ( always being able to have you get rid of his erections ). However, before you were dating my man would have to run back into the château bathroom after a day of watching you play volleyball with the other pogues in your tight pink bikini as your tits bounced around and almost slipped out every time you ran over to JJ in order to high five him.

K- kink | he isn’t the most kinky person ever, but he loves the thought of completely ruining you (corruption kink I think this is ) . If you’re a good girl kook he’ll love plowing into you and reminding you what your family would think about their A+ perfect daughter getting fucked rough by a dirty pogue.

L- location | he is a mostly bed sex guy. He doesn’t want to get caught or let anyone else see you in the orgasmic state that’s only for his bright blue eyes to see.But he loves surprising you by jumping into the shower with you, lathering your tits up with soap as he blows his load into your from behind.

M- motivation | he’s mostly turned on by just you in general. Your whole being makes him hard. But his main thing is kind of weird. It’s you being nice. If you smile brightly at him my man is bricked up immediately, or if your having a conversation with the bar tender as they’re making yours and his drinks he’ll watch your face intently as you smiled and laughed with the girl across from you ( if it’s a man it’s a different story ).

O- oral | as much as he loves getting his dick sucked, his favourite thing ever is pleasing his girl. He’s always eating you out, every spare second he has his tongue is exploring your folds as his finger enters your dripping hole. His tongue will flick and suck your clit as his fingers will brush against your gooey g-spot. ( he will also know that you have a massive oral fixation and will always bight his biceps whenever he’s wearing a short sleeved shirt or no shirt at all.)

P- pace | usually his pace varies during sex depending on the type of sex , sometimes he’ll be rough and fast and quickly overstimulate you enjoying watching you squirm but the other time he’ll be slow, allowing you to fully adjust to his size and stretching your walls, he will talk you through it and place kisses all over your face every time he lent down to your face.

Q- quickie | no matter how rough and fast he is, JJ isn’t the biggest fan of quickies, of course he will fuck your quickly in your pink bikini before going on a boat trip with the pogues but he prefers sex sensual and slow.

R- can’t think of one :( the prompt I’m using says risk for R but I can’t think of any I’m sorry guys :)

S- stamina | my man is fucking energetic , never once stopping to take a break during sex or take a breath while eating your pussy. But the second you both pull back, chests heaving up and down and heavy breaths filling the room he’s out like a light, falling asleep immediately or being stuck in a fucked haze.

T- toys | JJ doesn’t own any toys for himself but enjoys using your own toys on you. He’s not into the whole BDSM thing but he’s willing to use your vibrator and dildos on you so he can watch you in overstimulated pleasure.

U- unfair | JJ fucking Maybank is the biggest tease known to man. He will tease you from the second you get on the HMS Pogue. Hand on your thigh which inches closer to the hem of your bikini, pulling you into his lap and gripping your bare hips with his ringed fingers and lightly rubbing you against his hard erection.

V- volume | he’ll always try and match your volume, if your quiet, he’s gunna be quiet. But, he will always be talking you through it . M’Doing so good f’me baby , taking me so well , this pussy was made for me.

W- wild card | a random head cannon: he always tells John B and Pope that he’s the dominant one always. Which is pro dominantly true. Sometimes . Sometimes he’ll crumble under your touch as you’re overstimulating the poor boy by grinding forwards and backwards on his long length as it hits all the right places inside you, his hair was soaked in sweat at the tips as his ringed hands cling tightly to your bare hips, moving you in all the place he wanted causing his head to tilt back in pure ecstasy.

X- X-ray | under his clothes (we’ve all seen in obx cmon my mansey is fine) he has very tough muscular arms, his abs are formed into a perfect six pack which makes you drool every time he’s on top of you thrusting into you while you whine and beg for more.

Y- yearning | luckily for JJ he was blessed with a girlfriend with just the same sex drive as him. Let me just say for the first month of your relationship all you and JJ wanted was to be with each other inside all day, every day. Let’s just say you still go at it like rabbits and nothing has changed.

Z- zzzz | after sex, JJ’s eyes will to shut but he knows that he has to take care of his princess first, cleaning up his left overs from between her thighs, placing a soothing kiss on her still sweaty forehead before carrying her to the toilet for her after-sex-piss before carrying her back to bed and tossing one of his weed smelling shirts over her head with a smile.

Enjoy!!!

[poisonsage808]

♡ Bertholdt Hoover Alphabet Prompt ♡

♡ A. Admitting feelings ♡

Do they admit it first? Wait for someone else? And how do they go about it?

He’d need to hear the words come out of your mouth first. Bertholdt’s in denial of his own feelings for a plethora of reasons. Selfishly, the mission aside, he doesn’t believe you could ever feel that way about him. When you admit your feelings though, for a moment, he can’t think of anything else.

♡ B. Bad Habit ♡

What bad habits do they have?

Biting the insides of his cheeks when he wanders too deep into the darker part of his mind.

Something that would undoubtedly affect you though? White lies or half truths, believe him, all he wants is to tell you everything. Whether it’s because words fail him or the risk of danger is too high… he just can’t.

♡ C. Commitment ♡

Do they want a five-minute thing? Marriage? House and a dog?

Bertholdt is a romantic. In his mind he’ll have it all with you; the perfect life. He hangs onto that moment as he wakes up, the breathe right before reality crushes itself back on his shoulders. He chooses to forget about everything else just to have that sweet dream in his grasp a little longer.

♡ D. Damage ♡

As in ‘what’s their damage’ are they a difficult person? Been hurt before and need help healing? Won’t let people in? ‘don’t give a fuck’ attitude?

There’s a lock on him from head to toe and the key is always kept just out of reach. You can tell when he wants to tell you something, his lips part but shut just as quickly and he averts his olive green eyes. It’s awful, this part of the dance where he takes two steps away from you but holds onto your hand like a lifeline.

‘I could help you,’ you want to say.

His eyes say he knows that to be true.

♡ E. Energy ♡

Would you have trouble keeping up with them? Extrovert/introvert/ambient?

Introvert! He doesn’t mind being in a large group or crowd but he might need to leave early. Being one on one with you or doesn’t drain his social battery. Reiner is a different case, as much as Bertholdt respects and appreciates him, it’s tiresome holding up a persona even for his closest friend. Everything about you is so effortless.

♡ F. First date ♡

Their ideal first date

There’s things Bertholdt’s never done himself that he would love to experience with you. What would you like most, though? Fantasies create themselves at inconvenient times; from getting ice cream and enjoying it together by a fountain, picking apples, walking along the beach and finding shells for each other, stargazing and talking deep into the night, to simply chatting with you over a game of chess.

Despite all the possibilities, he knows exactly what he’d do. He wants to cook you dinner, your favorite meal, with wine and candles— the whole nine yards! In his mind it goes perfectly, he’d be the man you deserve. He’d pull out your chair and tell you how nice you look that evening, then quickly stammer out how you look nice every day. You’d hold his hand and thank him, flash him that smile he’d die for. In actuality, it doesn’t go perfect by definition but it is perfect because you’re there.

♡ G. Gentle ♡

How gentle are they?

Agonizingly gentle. Bertholdt’s touch trembles slightly in the beginning but as he grows more comfortable with you, he relaxes. You might be frustrated at first when he touches you like your glass, then you realize that’s.. simply who he is. Gentle. His words can be firm when they need to be but he almost never raises his voice and especially not at you. There’s this unfailing softness to Bertholdt that only you get to endure.

♡ H. Honesty ♡

How open are they?

Bertholdt has secrets (obviously) but tells you as much as he can without crossing that line. The moment the bond between you two go deeper then camaraderie, he vows not to lie to you if he can help it. He progressively gets better about explaining how he feels which is an enormous leap for him to make. You make saying something as simple as “I’m not ok right now,” easier.

♡ I. I love you’s ♡

Who says it first?

It’s messy and jumbled and sickeningly sweet and absolutely Bertholdt. He’ll never forget it. You were so incredibly patient even when you knew exactly where his extremely long sentence was going. Your eyes sparkled, your smile nearly broke your face and a gentle blush dusted your cheeks. His heart hurt in a way he never thought capable then suddenly stopped as soon as the words left his lips. During the tiniest gap of silence before you responded, his sweaty palms ran over his thighs,

“I love you too,”

His heart exploded then.

♡ J. Jealous ♡

Are they jealous? How do they handle it?

Specific incidents where someone is deliberately flirting with you and Bertholdt is nearby— or dare they attempt right in front of him, mistaking his quiet nature for weakness. Insecurities bubble to the surface, his face flushed red in anger, terror grips at his heart at the thought of losing you. With a bit of gentle prying he can explain, thanks to you, how he feels and why.

Stars forbid someone made you uncomfortable or grabbed at you though. Entirely different situation that would have Bertholdt utterly livid. He handles himself gracefully, quickly and angles himself in front of you, staring down the person and silently threatening them with a furious glare. It’s rare to see that side of Bertholdt but oddly sweet to know he’d do that for you.

♡ K. Kiss ♡

What kind of kisser? Deep and passionate? Sloppy? Little pecks on the cheek?

Stars, he’s the sweetest kisser on the planet! Bertholdt asks almost every time if he can kiss you, even though he gives himself away by staring at your lips and tip toeing closer in an odd dance. His lips are soft at first but the intent, the need, the love, has electricity zapping straight to your heart every time they touch.

♡ L. Listen ♡

Do they hang off your every word or have selective hearing?

You wonder sometimes if he has a library in his mind of things you’ve said or offhandedly mentioned. Bertholdt challenges himself to remember every single word that leaves your lips, and wins. You couldn’t know this, but he wants to commit every detail of you, everything you’ve ever said to memory… in case he ever has to think about you in past tense.

♡ M. Maintenance ♡

Are they high maintenance? Low? Do they need more skincare products than you?

Shoulders down it looks like he’s in tip-top shape. His uniform is always pristine, no wrinkles in his casual clothes, no dirt on his boots at the beginning of the day. Hair? A short, unkempt, bed headed mess. You love it. Overall Bertholdt is a very clean person and always smells nice.

♡ N. Nest ♡

What does their room look like?

Similar to his appearance, his personal room would be neat and tidy. There’s personal touches, hobbies, a plethora of books but no pictures. Bertholdt always keeps his bed made and sheets washed—except for if you were to use it. Not for anything weird! He just likes the reminder you were there. Sometimes your shampoo lingers on the pillow case and brings him comfort for a little while, it makes sleeping alone easier.

♡ O. Opinion ♡

Opinions are like assholes, everyone has one. Do they listen to others’ views? Mansplain? Talk over or have a spirited debate?

Bertholdt doesn’t give his opinion without being prompted. If he thinks it will hurt someone’s feelings he’d rather not say it at all. He listens plenty and gathers information like he was trained to do. You, for whatever reason, always want to hear what he thinks even if you disagree. He doesn’t like not being on the same page as you, he feels like it’s arguing or will lead to one and will brew into resentment. It never has.

♡ P. Protection ♡

Are they overboard or level headed about protecting their loved ones?

Considering he joined the Warrior program for his father, it’s safe to say he would go through any lengths to protect his family. Annie and Reiner can take care of themselves for certain but it doesn’t mean he doesn’t worry or won’t help keep them safe, if he can. The same goes for his other, newer camrades.

You though? Bertholdt will carry out unspeakable acts if it means keeping you alive. He won’t charge in blind, definitely not in a situation where he knows you can handle yourself. But that silent promise is forever there.

♡ Q. Quirk ♡

What strange little personality quirks do they have?

You noticed it before he did and innocently pointed it out which made him so flustered he couldn’t speak the rest of the day. Bertholdt tries to make himself small. Pressing himself against walls, crouching, hugging his legs when he sits, etc. First was stunned that you paid enough attention to him to see this, then he reflected on it for longer than he’d like to admit.

♡ R. Reliable ♡

Can you count on them?

He asks himself this often. His head and gut say no but his heart and body screams yes. The only time he moves before he can think about what he’s doing is when it comes to you.

♡ S. Scent ♡

Their perfume/cologne/natural musk

Naturally he smells like cedarwood and plums. You don’t know what plums are yet, it’s a subtly sweet, fruity scent. Barely there yet clings to him. Sometimes you catch whiffs of leather.

♡ T. Temper ♡

What is their temper like? Quick to anger? Long fuse? How bad do they lose it?

Seldom have you ever seen him snap, it’s a bit frightening when it happens. Bertholdt is very restrained, he prides himself on it.

♡ U. Unwind ♡

How do they relax?

Relax? Bertholdt? He’s stressed so much it bleeds into his sleep! Jokes aside, he enjoys reading and playing chess, enjoyable and a nice distraction. If he’s too wound up to sit still for those he likes to cook, an even better distraction and dispels that extra nervous energy he may have.

Fun fact: mornings are his favorite time of day; the sun kissing the horizon in greeting before the pleasant chill gets stolen away by its heat. Bertholdt prefers to sleep in if he can but if he has a nightmare, or just happens to be awake, he likes the peacefulness of mornings.

♡ V. Value ♡

What’s their love language? What makes them feel special?

Giving and receiving, Bertholdt’s love languages are tied between words of affirmation and quality time.

♡ W. Welcoming ♡

How do they feel about PDA?

Bertholdt wants to be selfish for once in his life and keep you his secret. It’s mostly for your safety but he couldn’t say how temporary that is. He won’t hesitate to help you off the ground and let your hands linger but PDA isn’t for him.

However, you’ve both found a way around that bump with hidden affectionate acts. Sitting next to him during meals so your legs can touch, maybe even holding pinkies under the table or resting a hand on a knee.

♡ X. Xylophone ♡

What’s their song?

Iris - Goo Goo Dolls

So when everything feels like the movies

Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive

And I don't want the world to see me

'Cause I don't think that they'd understand

When everything's made to be broken

I just want you to know who I am, hey

♡ Y. Yearning ♡

How do they act when separated?

Where are you going? How long will you be gone? Are you safe? Bertholdt has worse case scenarios zipping through his head faster than Survey Corps horses can run. It’s par the course for this life, he’s often reminded bitterly. It’s not dramatic to admit he’d be more comfortable if he could see you at all times.

Also he just misses you when you’re parted. Badly. While on the outside it looks as if he’s unbothered, his eyes roam for you if he knows you’re returning soon. He’s often compared to a lost puppy, which he can’t bring himself to deny strongly enough for anyone to believe.

♡ Z. Zzz ♡

Do they sleep a lot? Not enough? Night owl or early bird? Light sleeper or heavy?

When he finally does fall asleep it can be hard to wake him up. His sleeping positions are infamous and he doesn’t wake to the laughter that go on around him. A nightmare, a loud sound or a jolting shove would do the trick but Bertholdt’s a deep sleeper.

In your arms it’s a different story. He sleps peacefully the whole night and wakes up refreshed for a change. It’s always a good day when he can open his eyes and see you there beside him.

[j4keluver]

To All The Boys I've Loved Before: To Whom it may concern, I like you

casting: reader as lara jean, heeseung as peter kavinsky, sunghoon as reader's older brother, jungwon as josh sanderson, jay as greg, sunoo as lucas, ni-ki as kitty | ft... yunjin as chris, chaewon as gen

warning : explicit sexual implication (no smut) , swearing

synopsis: you've always dreamed of finding the picture perfect boyfriend but high school boys suck. whenever you get feelings so intense but can't put it to words, you write a letter that gets stuffed into a hidden blue box. so why is yang jungwon, your neighbor, walking towards you with a letter in his hand and why are you kissing lee heeseung, gen's boyfriend?

author's note: here's our first officially teaser of the series ! me and tiana (@luvj4key) have been working very hard to produce this series and we are so glad to see many of you loving it ! we still have a lot of responsibilities in our outside life out of tumblr so please be patient and understand that we are doing our best to create quality work for you guys. thank you for all the love ! and we will continue to answer question and build up your anticipation <3

The feeling of the grass tickles your finger tips, almost making you throw a light laugh. The low lit sun kisses your skin and the scent of the earth breathes into your system. It's a sense of freedom and warmth that you can only delve into when getting lost in the carefully written pages and pages of a love story.

In the distance, there is a young boy that seems to enjoy the earth's presence. Sun-bathed skin that soaks up the sun's welcoming rays, playful eyes that hold a keen stare, and flushed cheeks that only Aphrodite could have blessed him with. But it's not just anybody - It's Yang Jungwon.

He catches your stare and gives you a wistful smile, slowly making his way to you. You can only stand still when he finally appears right in front of you. His calloused hands reach up to your face to caress the soft skin of your cheek. Jungwon's eyes flutter closed and it's like your eyes close on command. He leans in ever so slightly, the tip of his nose touching yours in a light nudge. His breath is getting closer to your lips until -

"Hey ! What was that for?" you groan. The pillow Riki just threw at you is now somewhere on the ground onto of a mountain of unfolded laundry. You look up to him from your book to see him leaning on your door frame.

"Well in case you didn't notice, dinner is about to be ready. We've called you like six times," he rolls his eyes. Sunghoon pops up from behind him, "Yeah peanut. If you weren't reading those shitty books, you would have noticed that Dad made your favorite."

"I'm coming, I'm coming. I just finished this chapter," you shooed them away. You put on a pair of slippers and stop at the bottom step when the door opens and a familar frame greets you. The man of the hour again - Yang Jungwon.

"Hoon, Riki," Jungwon says, pulling in them for a quick hug and a firm pat on the back. "Sick ! Jungwon brought the new fifa game. This is why you're better than Sunghoon. " Riki exclaims. Sunghoon smacks the backside of his head while Riki sheepishly mumbles an apology.

Jungwon makes eye contact with you and raises his hand for a high-five which you comply . Jungwon whispers, "My favorite siblings out of all of you guys but don't tell them that !"

You can only softly laugh, knowing he loved this household more than his own. Your dad calls out to him, ushering him the the kitchen. Jungwon winks at you before walking over.

Yang Jungwon was someone that you were almost too familiar with. The Yangs moved into the house next door when you were in the sixth grade, Sunghoon was in seventh, and Riki was in fifth. You still remember young Jungwon, hiding behind his mother's leg and peeking over with his cat-like eyes.

Jungwon's mother gave him a little nudge, "Don't be shy Jungwon, they won't bite you." You tilt your head at him before deciding to give him a small wave and offer a cheeky smile. With that, it seems like Jungwon's shell had cracked as his dimple peeked through when he smiled back.

Your brother immediately invited him in to play some video games which he just nodded too. Every since then, it was like Jungwon lived at your house. Heck, sometimes he knew your house better than you did. He came after school to get tutored by Sunghoon and he would come on the weekend to play soccer with Riki, only seeing you in fleeting moments.

Jungwon was techincally your first boyfriend. Well - space between boy and friend. You would bike to school together, eat lunch together, be each other's lab partners and join the same clubs. You guys were insperable until high school. Your dynamic was very different in high school than middle school.

Jungwon towered five inches taller than eight grade graduation, leaving him at a staggering 5'10. His jaw was more defined, cheekbones more prominent. He made the soccer team so he was frame was lean and his skin was sun-kissed from all the outside practices. And the most biggest change; the girls

Jungwon had always been attractive, at least in your eyes. But his new profound looks made him extremely popular with Adler High. You changed a little from middle school. You opted to wear contacts than your glasses, you got your braces off and you finally learned how to make your eyeliners twins and not cousins. But it was nothing compared to the 360 Jungwon made.

He tried to keep your connection strong, even when he got his first girlfriend. He would still come over on Friday after school for movie nights, and still had the usual routine with your siblings. However, you didn't know that a random Friday would be your last movie night.

In your defense, you didn't mean to ease drop on him and Sunghoon's conversation but you're glad did. You, Sunghoon and Jungwon were having a late night conversation in the backyard before you excuse yourself to grab some water.

You come back with three water bottles until you stop in your tracks as you heard Sunghoon ask Jungwon, "So THE Yang Jungwon isn't a virgin anymore huh? How was she?" You quickly hid behind the wall, trying to control your shaky hands. Jungwon laughs, "Dude her head game was insane, had me rolling my eyes and shit. And the way her walls sucked me in, literal stars."

Did Jungwon actually say that or are you imagining things? It wasn't until you heard Sunghoon hollers, "Let's fucking go Jungwon, I see you." Your face feels hot and you feel your eyes brimming with tears. But what are you crying for? Are you upset that he is disrespecting women or are you upset that you realized you're in love with him and he just confessed that he lost his virginity? Both? You take a deep breath and wait for their conversation to go still before heading out.

You drop off the waters to them and make up some excuse about a throbbing headache, clutching onto your temples. You hug them goodnight, holding onto Jungwon for a second longer than usual. You cry yourself to sleep.

Jungwon persists for the next month, constantly asking what was wrong and if there was anything he could fix. He would ask your brothers what's wrong, to which they only shrugged their shoulder not knowing the answer. He would text you and you would simply keep telling him it was personal reasons.

He stops trying one month and three weeks in, probably because his girlfriend wouldn't be so happy if she sees how much effort he is putting into you. From then on, things are a little awkward but manageable. You only see him in passing moments.

Jungwon and his first girlfriend eventually break up but he quickly gets with Kim Minji, a cheerleader for Adler high, and they're still together till now.

You take your sit at the dining table next to Sunghoon. Sunghoon plates your food for you, "Eat up, you won't have me to remind you when I'm in Ireland." You just sigh and say a 'thank you.'

Your dad starts, "So Jungwon, How's Minji? Haven't seen her around in a while." Sunghoon's eyes widen while Jungwon awkwardly clears his throat. His eyes dart around and he subconsciously makes eye contact with you. You raise an eyebrow at him before he looks away.

"Oh we've just been busy and stressed with school that we haven't been able to see each other in a while. It's.. going okay." Jungwon manages to say before Riki changes the topic, talking about the new game Jungwon brought over.

The conversation between the five of you flow smoothly. You settle for going bed early since you're waking up early to see Sunghoon off in the morning. You hug your dad and Sunghoon goodnight and drop a kiss on Riki's head ("Stop doing that (Y/N), I'm old and manly now" You know he still loves to be babied.) You choose for a small wave to Jungwon before heading upstairs.

Sunghoon isn't a guy to get emotional and shed tears. You could count on your hands how many times you've seen Sunghoon cry. But here he was, stray tears falling down his cheek. Dad pats his back as Sunghoon sniffles. He gives Riki a quick hug, a rare moment between the brothers.

And when he gets to you, he pulls you into the tighest hug before leaving a big smooch on your head. He pulls back and sternly warns you, "Now peanut, listen to me very closely. Now with your older, hot, manly, strong brother away, boys are going to try to approach you and you will turn down every single one. You understand? Especially the Lacrosse team."

You don't really focus on the words you say as your own tears start to well up in your eyes where Sunghoon only coos at you and hugs you tighter. The three of your wave to Sunghoon as he walks through his gate. You look back to see if he's looking back. He's not and it finally hits you that for this school year, you're on your own (minus riki)

taglist: @dimplewonie @wooziswife @bunnbam (unable to tag)

[beingparker]

I’m sitting in front of the most gorgeous fireplace here at the Old Edwards Inn in Highlands, NC. The town is straight out of a Christmas movie, almost comically so.. Even the air smells like Christmas cookies and firewood. It's everything my brother and I were hoping to give our mother for a holiday vacation and more. This week though has been a bit off. I can’t shake the weight of something that’s been sitting on my chest since last week.

It’s hard to pinpoint exactly when it started, but I think it was Thanksgiving. I had my own idea of how the holiday would go: peaceful, quiet, reflective. And for the most part, it was... We were up at our family mountain house in Hendersonville, NC- which is always a pleasure... Plus, I’ve been working VERY hard on myself these past couple of years—mentally, physically, emotionally—that I figured I’d be able to glide through this season with ease and self-assurance.

Then J reached out..

My friends will know who J is.. He’s an ex that I dated for roughly over a year a decade ago. We started as best friends. In fact, he was essentially my Spanish language tutor, but it ultimately turned into something more as he began to realize he was, in fact, gay (I had already been "out of the closet" since high-school).. Our relationship was interesting. It was great in the beginning, but then when it became long-distance (he moved to Stuttgart, Germany for au-pair, I moved to Seville, Spain for study-abroad), it soured.

So, last Thursday, while I was cooking for Thanksgiving, I saw his name pop up on my phone. We exchanged pleasantries for a few minutes. But then, inevitably, he was right back to it—the old arguments, the unresolved issues, the problems we never really solved. I respectfully refused to engage, because I am GENUINELY disinterested. I felt no sense of pride or desire to have the last word- I simply bowed out of the conversation entirely... But, I could definitely feel the familiar tension rising. It was just a bummer to happen on Thanksgiving. Felt like a sucker punch to the face that I didn't see coming.

The holidays, too, have brought up some bitter-sweet emotions. The holidays represent family, warmth, coming together, etc.. But after five years of being single, my own version of “family” has changed. I have friends, of course, but I can’t help but feel a little empty personally. Mind you- this has not been the case for the last 5 or so years. Prior to this year, I have truly had ZERO desire to date.. to have sex.. to be intimate or involved romantically with ANYONE. My last breakup sent me into a reclusive shell where I went inward and worked on myself and myself alone for YEARS. I worked on my body and nutrition, put on some muscle. I worked on my mind—therapy, self-reflection, journaling. I worked on my career, landing a position I truly love.. I worked on my heart—learning how to love myself first, how to stand firm in my boundaries, how to heal from old wounds, etc..

Now, at this point at 32, I feel like I've grown back INTO myself. I feel open, desiring even, for connection and partnership again. This picturesque setting is certainly contributing as well. The cold air, the glowing Christmas lights, the warmth of a blanket by the crackling fireplace, the laughter of my family, etc. all have a particular tinge of intimacy that I can't shake, and I, in fact, want to experience and invite in. Even the mundane, small things feel a bit more romantic this time of year. I can't help but feel some desire to share this with someone. And I have to say- I'm so proud I am saying that now. Again, prior to this year I had lost all desire to be with anyone. While that cold reclusiveness certainly helped me heal and grow, it was never something that should've been permanent.

At some point, one has to open himself back up to any and all possibilities, and here we go...

Anyways- I’m off to do some Christmas shopping.

xx, PL

[imaginemcyt]

living with the dream team, part 2

^^ ask and ye shall receive <3

appearing on stream

sometimes you'll bring them food if they've been working a while and they'll be like "wait y/n stay"

so you end up joining stream for a while

you answer chat's many many questions or sometimes you play games with them

usually it's george asking you to join stream because he's bored

omg i just had a thought

CO-HOSTING TWITTER SPACES WITH DREAM

they get so mf chaotic

y'all will get into debates about what the best type of pasta is at four thirty in the morning in front of 10k listeners

watching football games with dream and sapnap, even if you don't care about football

you will wear the sooners hoodie and you will like it

but you like game day because that means FOOD and spirits in the house are high

unless your guys' team loses, in which case dream and sapnap will be HUGE fuckin babies the rest of the damn day

if dream and sapnap's teams are against each other, you are expected to pick a side

george is in the firm camp of "doesn't give a shit and you guys are idiots" (when is he not tho)

if you cook or bake them food they're like "THANK YOU Y/N YOU'RE THE BEST WE LOVE YOU"

same goes if you give them a ride somewhere

they spoil you omfg

they got that streamer money and they're gonna use it on you because you're their bestie and their roommate

dream is the worst when it comes to this. you said you liked that hoodie? it's yours, what size you want? those headphones? they're sick, here you go! that necklace? already pulling out his wallet

george would rather buy you video games because it gives y'all something to do together

he loves gaming with his friends and if he buys you a new game then either he can teach it to you (maybe on stream!!) or y'all can learn together :)

sapnap loves to come home with your favorite snacks and drinks just to make you smile

or even better, he takes you to the store himself at 1am so you can pick out your own snacks, then y'all go on a late night drive with music blasting and windows down

and he ALWAYS pays.

he's from texas, he's a southern gentleman and he WILL pay for you <3

if they're being too loud on stream, they'll apologize

usually they forget and go back to screaming in about five minutes but hey, it's the thought that counts, right?

they feel so bad if they wake you up tho

they will end stream if it gets too loud while you're sleeping

honestly they just all treat you so well

they're the sweetest

[childeaether]

venus.

cw: 18+ only, xiao/f!reader, law school au, enemies to lovers, rough sex, dumbification, degradation

wc: 2.5k

it was getting late. well, it got late about two hours ago. now midnight was approaching at an annoyingly fast rate. you were exhausted, xiao was irritable, and the report was nowhere near done. it was a miracle that no one had come by to lock up the study room for the night.

“this case doesn’t make any sense,” you griped, typing aggressively on your laptop. xiao sighed.

“you’ve said that three times in the last thirty minutes. i get it,” he said flatly. you shot him a look. your professor had to be some kind of sadist. you and xiao had hated each other since the first day of class. rarely did a lecture go by without the two of you arguing- whether it was about law or the color of the sky.

“read this,” you said, turning your laptop towards him. his eyes narrowed as he read over the report, which you’d rewritten twice now. he shook his head as he approached the end.

“your reasoning doesn’t make any sense. you’re just mentioning another case to make the holes in your argument look smaller,” he said. “and the fuck does the implied powers have to do with anything?”

you snatched your laptop back. “at least i’m putting ideas out there. you’ve been rereading it for, like, forty five minutes.”

he rolled his eyes. “right. why analyze the case to further understand it when you could just spew bullshit and pray something is right?”

you groaned in frustration. “this case is at least a century old. you’re not supposed to ‘further understand it.’ the whole point of the assignment is torture us mentally.”

“the whole point of the assignment is to challenge us,” he shot back, “something you will have to get used to if you want a fucking law career.”

you slammed your laptop shut. “i get it, you think i’m stupid-”

“i don’t think you’re stupid, i think you’re fucking lazy.”

you snorted, but there was no humor in it. “i’m lazy, but you haven’t written shit. got it.”

he stood. “listen, i’m sorry that you weren’t paired with your little boyfriend, but-”

“my little boyfriend?” you said, incredulous. “what are you even talking about?” you got to your feet, too. the two of you were ticking time bombs, trapped in each other’s space. as always.

“that ginger you sit next to. don’t act like i’m wrong,” he snapped, “you two are so fucking obvious.”

you laughed in disbelief. “jesus christ, you are such an asshole. his name is childe. you’ve known him an entire semester-”

xiao cut you off, “you’re unbearable around him. that stupid high pitched giggle you do? it gives me a fucking headache-”

“laughing at his jokes means i’m fucking him?” you didn’t even realize that you’d raised your voice.

“you dumb yourself down for him,” xiao said. “it’s infuriating. you can have anyone you want, why do you settle for that moron?”

“i’m not settling for him,” you hissed, “i don’t even talk to him outside of class! and so what if i fucking was? god forbid someone likes me, right? just because you hate me doesn’t mean the rest of the world does.”

something in his eyes changed. you suddenly realized how close your faces were. you must’ve gotten closer as your tempers escalated.

“you are stupid,” he said, softly. before your rage took hold, he continued, “i.. don’t hate you.”

you scoffed. “yeah, right,” you said, starting to back away. his hand caught your shoulder, gentle but firm. the earth stopped turning. he’d never looked at you like this before. like you were more than a nuisance. much more.

it clicked. oh.

“what did you mean by.. what you said a second ago?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. “that i.. can ‘have anyone i want?’” your heart was beating fast, and it wasn’t caused by rage, this time.

for a moment, xiao looked vulnerable. “we don’t have to talk about this,” he whispered. “i know that we argue a lot, and i know that i can be a dick, but- i don’t hate you. i don’t.”

your heart was caught in your throat. “how do you feel about me?” you breathed.

his cheeks reddened. he clearly wasn’t used to being emotionally vulnerable, especially in front of you. “it’s complicated,” he said. “it’s not necessarily how i feel about you, but how you make me feel.”

a small smile creeped onto your lips. “well.. what are you involuntarily feeling?”

your smile seemed to relax him, if only slightly. he sighed. “i’ve been asking myself the same question for months. i mean, you always annoyed me- especially in the beginning. but, as time went on, i don’t know.. i started noticing little things.

“like the look in your eye when you’re winning an argument. or the one when you’re losing. how you bite your lip when you’re focused on something..” he trailed off. he looked up, finally meeting your eyes.

“like i said, it’s complicated,” he murmured. “but whatever i was feeling was.. warm. pleasant, even if i didn’t want it to be. then, you started hanging out with that childe guy, and these feelings went from warm to… hot. like a, a burning sensation, in my chest.”

just thinking about it seemed to frustrate him. “he made you laugh. you didn’t look at him like you wanted to kill him. i mean, you liked him. and i couldn’t stand it, because-”

he cut himself off, trying to muster up the courage to say whatever was about to come next. “i couldn’t stand that you would never see me the way you saw him.” his breathing was shaky. it made your heart ache.

your faces were so close.

“it drives me insane,” he continued. “you drive me insane. and i just want to-”

you cut him off, capturing his lips in a desperate, long-awaited kiss. he jumped at first, shocked, but melted into it before too long. his hands found themselves on your hips, gripping them firmly. pulling you closer to him. you tangled your fingers in his hair, relishing in the deep groan that escapes him when you tug on the strands.

he bit your lip as he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours. you whined and gasped for breath. you brought a hand to his cheek, brushing a piece of hair behind his ear. “you have no idea how long i’ve wanted to do that,” you whispered. his fingers dug into your waist.

“you’re not fucking childe?” he said. god, his eyes.

you shook your head.

“good.”

just like that, he was on you again. the kiss was rougher this time, hotter. teeth nipped at lips, tongues prodded at one another, hands made their way up your shirt. xiao pulled away briefly to remove it. he pushed you up against the desk as his lips chased yours once again. you had no objections, dizzy with lust.

he shoved a thigh between your legs and you moaned as he pressed it against you.

“god, look at you,” he whispered, his teeth against your neck. he moved his thigh, and you couldn’t stop your hips from grinding against it. there was an almost sinister look in his eye. it was sadistic, but adoring. your heart was fluttering in your chest.

“aw, baby,” he cooed, “i’ve hardly touched you. do you really need it that bad?” that condescending tone did something to you. a familiar fog was starting to form in your head. “i guess i should’ve seen this coming. smart girls like you love to be turned into dumb sluts in bed, right?”

a shiver ran down your spine. before you could respond, he moved his ground his thigh against you. an embarrassingly high pitched noise escaped your throat. “yeah, that’s what i thought,” xiao teased, sinking his teeth into your collarbone. your nails dug into his shoulder.

suddenly, he pulled away. you whined pitifully at the loss of contact, but the disappointment didn’t last long. your heart skipped a beat as you realized xiao had pulled away to take off his belt. that fog was getting hard to ignore.

he noticed you staring. “bend over the desk,” he commanded, “and hike up your skirt for me.”

as if your panties weren’t soaked enough before.

nervously, you bent yourself over the desk and pulled your skirt up, exposing the silk panties you had on underneath. they were genuinely comfortable. xiao picked a good day to confess.

you heard him inhale sharply behind you, taking you in. “fuck,” he whispered, running a hand up your thigh. you couldn’t help but squirm. “you’re already so wet i can see it through your panties. does it turn you on when i tell you what to do?”

two fingers traced the outline of your pussy over your panties. “or maybe it was the ‘dumb slut’ part, hmm?”

you moaned helplessly, wriggling your hips. “xiao, please,” you begged, ��hurry up, i- i want it.”

“be patient,” he replied. you felt lips press against your inner thigh. your skin felt like it was on fire, his lips burning a trail everywhere they touched. you whimpered and squirmed, desperate.

“please, just- fucking get on with it,” you cried. your cunt was aching. you’d imagined xiao fucking you on shameful, lonely nights. especially on days like this, when the two of you had been at each other’s throats. and now it was here. real.

“god, please-”

“shut the fuck up, slut, or i’ll rip these panties off and gag you with them,” he growled. the fog won. you felt yourself melt into the desk, into submission. your hips stilled, and you bit your lip to keep from whining. every second that passed felt like a lifetime.

finally, he pulled your panties down, exposing your dripping sex. you gasped at the sensation of cold air against you. it only made you feel hotter.

he ran his middle and index finger up and down your folds, maddeningly slow. god, it was hard to keep quiet. you could hardly think about anything but xiao, xiao’s fingers, xiao’s dick.

you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning out loud when his fingers began to circle your clit. they were slow and gentle; you needed them to be more.

“you’re so beautiful,” xiao whispered. you hung on to his every word. “i want to take my time with you, and i promise i will, later.. but right now, i can’t help myself.” he took your wrists into one hand, holding them behind your back. he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear as he continued, “i’m going to fuck you senseless.”

you cried out as he plunged two fingers inside you, thrusting in and out roughly. it was a relief, but it wasn’t enough. you tried to grind your hips onto his fingers to no avail. “and you’re going to take what i give you, aren’t you, baby?” he said, kissing a particularly sensitive spot behind your ear.

“because you’re my good, stupid slut.” he added a third finger and curled them inside you, finally hitting the sweet spot he’d been searching for. you let out a low moan at the sensation. “you think you’re so smart, but look at you. trying to fuck yourself on my fingers. if i’d known this is all it takes to shut you up, i would’ve done this a long time ago.”

you mumbled out a pathetic, incoherent moan. you couldn’t even argue with him, you were so desperate.

“it’s okay, pretty girl,” he whispered. “i’ve got you. i’ll give you what you want. you just have to ask.”

you knew what that meant. “please,” you begged, “please- fuck me, xiao! i want it so bad, i’m so..” you trailed off, trying to hang on to your train of thought as he twisted his fingers inside you. your sentence became a string of incoherent please’s.

luckily for you, xiao was nearing the limit of his control. “good girl,” he said. you heard shuffling behind you as he positioned himself, the tip of his cock pressing against the entrance to your cunt. his grip on your wrists tightened. “take a deep breath, baby.”

he thrust his hips forward and finally, he was inside you. it stung at first, but you adjusted quickly. when he felt you relax, he pulled your wrists toward him, using them as leverage to better fuck into you.

“oh, thank you, thankyouthankyouthankyou,” you moaned, relishing in the feeling of him brushing against your g-spot. every thrust had you seeing stars.

“fuck, you feel so good,” xiao hissed, picking up the pace. he pressed kisses down your spine. “so pretty, such a good girl. you like being fucked rough like this, baby? is this what you needed?”

you let out another string of whimpers, nodding desperately. “it’s so good,” you slurred, “i’m close.”

he released your wrists to grab your forearm, pulling you up, against his chest. this angle was somehow better than the last, directly targeting that sweet spot he’d only been brushing before. “oh, yes! right there!” you cried.

xiao let out a growl, fucking you harder than before. “that’s right, you stupid slut. fucking take it,” he snarled, biting into your neck. “you wanna cum?”

you nodded feverishly, no longer bothering to quiet the little noises he forced out of you with each thrust. “yes, god, please,” you begged, tears beginning to form in your eyes.

he suddenly pulled out and flipped you onto your back, thrusting inside you again without missing a beat. you grabbed onto his shoulders, trying to stay grounded. “tell me what you are,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

your cheeks were burning. you knew what he meant. in any other circumstance, you would’ve fought him on it, or at least tried to. but you’d never had dick this good in your life. you weren’t about to disobey him.

a thumb hovered above your clit. “tell me what you are,” he repeated, his gaze unwavering. you couldn’t resist him if you tried.

“i’m a dumb slut!” you cried, tears running freely now. he brought his thumb down, rubbing in time with his quick, rough thrusts. your eyes rolled back as you came, cunt clenching down desperately, legs shaking around his waist.

xiao was quick to follow, cumming inside you with a low, gravelly groan as he pulled your hips against him. you whined at the feeling.

as he came down, he pressed his lips to yours again, much gentler than he had earlier. you kissed him back, slowly gathering your bearings.

when you pull away, he peppers your cheeks with light kisses. “you were so good,” he whispered, “so good for me.” you hummed happily, capturing his lips once more.

he pulled out of you, much to your dismay. before you could demand another round, you were hit with a sudden realization. “oh, fuck,” you said, frantically pulling your shirt over your head.

his eyes widened and he put a hand on your arm. “what is it? what’s wrong?” he asked, sounding genuinely concerned. it was a cute look on him.

“the fucking case report,” you grumbled.

he grinned and gently tugged you back to his chest. “don’t worry. i can fix your half in, like, thirty minutes.”

you shot him an annoyed but amused look. “you’re an asshole,” you said. he pressed a kiss to your nose.

“you love it,” he replied.

and you did.

[imaginesfordifferentfandoms]

I Have Found You

Click here for my masterlist.

Add yourself to my taglist.

Aaron Hotchner Taglist - @braelyniskool, @canadailluminate, @filmsbyblair, @ready-4-spencie, @mrs-scottmccall, @j-cat, @cinderellacauseshebroke, @black-rose-29

Prompt - I have for the first time found what I can truly love. I have found you.

—————————————————–

You and Aaron had had a long week at work, each on separate cases but both equally as drained as the other. Your job saw you travelling to and from New York each day, working for one of the states best law firms, it was hard working your way up but you did it and now you were dealing with high profile cases day in and day out.

This case was particularly gruelling but it was finally finished and you had won. It was a small victory for the family but it was a victory nonetheless.

Aaron was working on his own case, he had been in Las Vegas for the past four days dealing with a serial killer who was targeting families. The unsub was organised, too organised, and more families were killed before they finally caught a break. From there it had been a matter of hours before they caught the man and the team was back on the jet.

Aaron finished up on the phone before dropping down into his seat beside Rossi who raised an eyebrow at him.

“Short of an emergency we all have Friday and Monday off, I don’t want to see any of you for four days.” Aaron announced to the jet, smiling as it was filled with cheers and laughter.

“So, big plans?” Rossi asked, smirking at Aaron who just rolled his eyes.

“I plan on doing absolutely nothing.” Aaron replied with a smile, already thinking of how great it would be to spend a long weekend with you and Jack, it had been far too long. He had already spoken to you and upon hearing the good news of your case asked if you could get two days off and thanked god that you could.

“I hear you, man.” Derek spoke up from opposite Rossi. “Four whole days of nothing but me and my girl.”

“What about you, kid?” Rossi asked, looking at Spencer who sat opposite Aaron.

“There’s a film festival I really wanted to go to actually, it's showing a bunch of different films in their original language.” Spencer told him and the grin on his face was enough to stop any teasing.

“Have a good time, pretty boy.” Derek smiled back, ruffling the younger man's hair causing him to pout.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile at the scene but as much as he loved this family, he couldn’t wait to get back home to you and Jack.

-

“How hard can cupcakes be, right?” You asked Jack, who stood on a chair in front of the counter. The two of you were staring at the ingredients that were spread out, not knowing where to start. When you suggested Jack make something for Aaron you were thinking more along the lines of a picture but when the kid suggested cupcakes well…you really wanted cupcakes.

“Right.” Jack agreed, grinning up at you.

Turns out it was harder to make cupcakes than either of you thought.

Aaron walked into the house, smiling immediately as he heard Jack giggling madly. He was quick to follow the noise but stopped abruptly as he stared into the kitchen.

“Daddy!” Jack yelled, quickly scrambling off the chair and throwing himself at Aaron who caught him and lifted him with ease despite the cupcake mixture that stuck to his clothes, face and hair.

“Hey buddy,” He grinned, turning his attention to you. There you stood, cupcake mix splatter on your face, in your hair and on your shirt. You looked dejected as you held an electric mixer, clearly the culprit of the cupcake explosion. “It looks like you and Y/N are having fun.” He said with a laugh, watching how you pouted up at him.

“We were gonna make cupcakes for you, daddy, but Y/N put it on too high.” Jack informed Aaron, giggling madly as he did.

“I didn’t know!” You defended, there was a reason you weren’t trusted in the kitchen.

Aaron’s smile grew and he couldn’t wait any longer to move closer to you, the hand that didn’t hold Jack caressed your cheek and he brought you in for a soft kiss. It didn’t last long, how could it with Jack laughing and making kissing noises, but the two of you pulled away with matching, love struck smiles before you and Jack began laughing together at the cupcake batter that was now perched on Aaron’s nose.

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t fight back the smile.

“Alright, alright,” he said, gaining both of your attention, “how about you two get cleaned up and we can all go out for dinner and then get some cupcakes, hm? That sound good?” He asked Jack who nodded with a grin and squirmed for Aaron to put him down. Once he did, Jack shot off to his bedroom and Aaron turned his attention to you.

“You can’t of thought that was a good idea.” He said as he wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning in to steal another kiss.

“The kid said cupcakes, who was I to say no?” You responded when he pulled away, giggling as he trailed kisses to your jaw and then peppered them down your neck.

Your eyes closed as you tilted your head back, giving the man more access and you couldn’t help but whine as he pulled away. The whine quickly turned into a laugh as he leaned closer and licked a blob of batter that had stuck to your neck.

“Go clean up, baby.” He said before kissing your head and untangling himself from you.

You and Jack were quick to clean yourselves up and soon you were all out the door and heading to a restaurant that you often frequented when you had Jack.

-

It felt like forever since you had been out with the Hotchner boys and you enjoyed every minute of it, no annoying work calls pulling one of you away, no looming threat of Aaron being called to a different state. No, just you, Aaron and Jack going out together, eating good food, catching up with each other properly.

It was wonderful.

“Cupcakes now daddy?” Jack asked as the waitress cleared the plates.

“Yeah, cupcakes now daddy?” You echoed with a smirk watching as Aaron playfully glared at you.

“Sure thing buddy,” He said to Jack, causing you to let out a quiet laugh. “Pick which one you want.”

Aaron couldn’t tell you who smiled wider when dessert was brought out, you or Jack. Both of you tucked in with the same hunger and he just smiled at the scene.

When you and Aaron had first met, it was to do with a case he was working on. He never expected it to blossom into this. The friendship was unexpected but not unwelcome and then before either of you had realised it you had developed feelings for one another.

You were quite a bit younger than him and he was hesitant to bring the feelings up, not understanding what you could possibly see in an older, divorced, single father.

That was the other issue, sure you knew about Jack but there was a difference between knowing about him and wanting to be a part of his life and as much as Aaron had liked you he knew he couldn’t bring somebody into his life who couldn’t accept Jack.

So the pining went on for months as Aaron made the decision for you that you didn’t want to be burdened with a child that wasn’t yours. And when you finally pulled Aaron’s head out of his arse and made him talk about the feelings between you, you could have slapped him silly.

Sure kids weren’t exactly your forte but you’d at least have liked the chance to decide that. From there Aaron had introduced you to Jack after the two of you went on a few dates. The two of you decided the best place would be out in public, a little less daunting and that’s how you ended up at the zoo.

Jack had warmed up to you rather quickly and you surprised yourself with how good you were with him. Eventually it was Jack asking if you could have a sleepover at their house rather than Aaron trying to explain that you might be there in the morning sometimes.

Aaron was so glad you had talked him out of his own head way back when, and as he watched you with Jack, he knew, not that there was any doubt, that he’d made the right choice.

-

“Can we watch a movie?” Jack asked as the three of you entered the house.

“Buddy, it’s nearly bedtime.” Aaron reminded him as he took your coat from you before taking his own off.

“Please daddy,” Jack pleaded, turning on the puppy dog eyes, “I’ll brush my teeth and put my pyjamas on.”

He looked at you but you were looking down at Jack with a soft smile and he couldn’t say no if he wanted to.

“Deal, teeth and pyjamas, we’ll meet back here in five.” Aaron said and grinned as Jack took off running.

“C’mere baby,” He mumbled as he pulled you closer to him, wrapping you up in his arms. “I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too.” You confessed into his chest before titling your head up. Aaron was quick to turn his head, leaning down and capturing your lips in a soft, slow kiss. When he pulled away he didn’t go far, resting his head on your forehead.

“Can’t wait to have you all to myself these next few days.” He told you quietly, fingers brushing against your waist.

“Me neither, it’s going to be heaven.” You replied, matching both his tone and the smile on his face.

“Daddy,” Jack’s voice pulled you away from each other and you turned to see the kid grinning up at Aaron showing his freshly brushed teeth and proudly wearing his Captain America pyjamas. “You and Y/N/N need your pyjamas too.”

“Of course we do!” You exclaimed, taking Aaron’s hand in yours and pulling him towards the bedroom with instructions for Jack to put a movie on.

“Really can’t wait to have you all to myself.” Aaron said again as he watched you pull your shirt over your head.

“Down boy.” You laughed, throwing the shirt at him.

Watching you undress made Aaron long to touch you but seeing you dressed in his clothes, sweatpants that were way too big for you and a college shirt that drooped off your shoulders was somehow infinitely sweeter.

“I love you.” He told you, pulling you close to place a kiss on your exposed shoulder.

“I love you too.” You smiled before turning around and kissing him. “Get changed.” You ordered.

“Yes ma’am.” Aaron laughed but did as you said.

Aaron couldn’t help but smile as he held his family in his arms. Jack was half in your lap and half in Aarons and you were sat flushed against him, head resting on his shoulder and your hand holding Jack’s leg.

The movie was still playing but Jack was fast asleep against his chest and you were pretty close to following. Despite that though, Aaron couldn’t bring himself to move and send you both to bed. Instead he tightened his grip on both of you, smiling as you cuddled further into him.

This, this was all he needed, you and Jack by his side. His little family, both of whom had been through so much. All he wanted to do was protect both of you and he would, god would he do anything to protect the pair of you.

You were one of the best things that had happened to him, he had known it since the day he had met you and he had known it two weeks ago when the team finished a case in California and he walked into the jewellers to buy the ring and he knew it now, looking down at you holding onto him and Jack.

He knew you were the best thing to happen to him in a really long time and he would forever be thankful that he had found you.

[thornedrose44]

Prompt: "Do it. Take a chance, I'm begging you. You don't want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been."

Read on AO3

“What is it?” Kara huffed out, her frustration finally reaching critical mass.

“What’s what?” Alex replied, playing dumb by pretending to study the DEO’s monitors far too intently considering Kara had literally just dispatched the rogue villain of the week.

Kara crossed her arms, hip cocked forward slightly as she leant against the central console, blue eyes observing her sister's profile closely.

“Whatever you’re not telling me because you think it will upset me.” The superhero clarified bluntly, her social hesitation and uncertainty having dampened over the last few years.

She had learnt the hard way how important it was to never shy away from the truth and avoid speaking around the heart of the matter. It was a lesson she had absorbed completely, and it was one she refused to forget - needing to prove she had evolved, had bettered herself from the version that had required teaching in the first place.

“I’m not…” Alex refuted, shrugging dismissively but keeping her gaze trained forward, “There’s no-“

“Look, I’m asking you out of courtesy,” Kara cut in, “but you and I both know that I could just as easily ask Nia, and she would fold almost instantly.”

Alex grumbled irritably under her breath - Nia still had yet to build an effective resistance to Kara’s puppy dog eyes and this particular weakness had caused no small amount of trouble for Alex over the last five years.

“It is Lena related, right?” Kara checked, though it was completely unnecessary.

For Alex to actively try and keep a secret from her, it couldn’t be about anything else. And it had been more or less confirmed by her sister's reaction to her threatening to go to Nia.

“Just because I’m keeping a secret, doesn’t automatically mean it’s to do with Lena.” Alex tried, though the conviction behind her statement was weaker than wet tissue paper.

The redhead side-eyed her and Kara merely had to arch an unimpressed eyebrow in return for the DEO director to deflate.

“Okay maybe it’s a little to do with Lena.” Alex admitted with a wince, rubbing the back of her neck in defeat.

Kara threw her hands up in exasperation. “It’s been over five years, okay? I’m fine!”

Her bellowed declaration of stability, made the nearby DEO agents look over with a mix of curiosity and concern. Kara grimaced at the reaction and as such didn’t resist when Alex grabbed her arm and dragged her out of the central room and into her private office.

Alex turned to face her fully, lips pressed tight together and hands firm on her own hips (it had always annoyed Kara that Alex managed to make her signature superhero pose far more intimidating than her own attempts).

“Yelling I’m fine, definitely helps your case.” Alex retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Kara had the good grace to look suitably embarrassed for a moment before launching into the same variation of the speech she gave every time there was a morsel of Lena news to be had. “I screwed up, okay? Big time screwed up - ‘regret it for the rest of my life’ screwed up!” Kara declared prompting a beleaguered sigh from her sister who knew the blatant lie that was coming next. “But I’ve made my peace with it. I won’t spiral into another depressive episode when I hear how happy she is.”

Alex shook her head, not even remotely convinced - not that Kara could blame her, the last time Alex had been pestered into telling her a Lena update, Kara had spent a weekend on a drinking binge that had successfully proven that there were limits even for a kryptonian.

“I don’t think-“ Alex began.

“What is it?” Kara demanded. “Is she getting another medal from the president?”

Alex shook her head, jaw clenching and unclenching. “Kara, you don’t want to know this.”

“Her and Kal save the world again?” Kara barrelled on, her lips curling into a jealous snarl. “The greatest Luthor and Super duo continue to make the world a better place?”

That particular news article had been printed and burned by Kara’s heat vision more times than she dared admit to anyone.

“Kara, please-“ Alex begged, expression crumpling as Kara relentlessly pushed.

“Tell me, I can take it.” Kara proclaimed, voice coming out high pitched and strained. “Is she dating someone again? Another famous actress? That Olympic male gymnast? What-“

“She’s getting married.”

A bomb must have gone off, Kara thought to herself.

A kryptonite bomb.

It was the only thing that could explain the ringing in her ears, and the way everything just… hurt.

A shard of kryptonite must have pierced her chest and cut her heart into jagged pieces. That was the only thing that could explain it.

“What?” She questioned, barely above a whisper. She didn’t quite recognise her own voice - it sounded shattered and unfamiliar. She also didn’t know what she was asking.

Didn’t know what ‘what’ was all about.

What just happened?

What did you say?

What post-apocalyptic reality are we living in now?

“Next week, she’s getting married.” Alex explained, giving Kara answers she no longer wanted. “Sam, Ruby, Kal and Lois are invited.”

She knew it should sting. Not being invited even though they hadn’t spoken in nearly five years. That she should feel something about the fact that Lena had omitted Alex, Brainy, Nia and J’onn as well - it further reinforced how Lena believed them to be Kara’s friends and never hers (which was one of the things Kara regretted most - how her poor treatment of Lena had infected and destroyed everyone else’s friendship with the youngest Luthor).

“To who?” Kara asked, tone cold, hollow… empty.

“Kara,” Alex murmured softly, reaching out to comfort her sister, “this clearly isn’t good for you.”

Kara jerked backwards so fast that the papers on Alex’s desk shot into the air, fluttering down around the sisters like snow.

“Just tell me!” Kara ordered, hands turned into white knuckle fists at her sides that would be capable of tearing through the strongest of metals. Her eyes heated but she managed to stave the fire in them as she glowered at her sister.

Alex slumped back, leaning heavily against her desk, running a frantic hand through her short hair. “Does it matter?” Alex muttered defeatedly, brown eyes filled with pity and sympathy as she stared up into Kara’s eyes.

“Of course it fucking matters,” Kara snapped in outrage before she had a chance to stop and think , “because it’s not me!”

The admission hung heavy and rotting between them. It wasn’t a revelation to either of them, though the fact that the intensity of Kara’s feelings hadn’t dampened despite the separation of half a decade was.

“Kara…” Alex breathed, standing back up and moving towards the blonde with the obvious intent of hugging her.

“I should get back to CatCo.” Kara mumbled, cheeks a fiery red with shame. She stepped hurriedly away from her sister and was already halfway out the door before she halted, turning back to call out a sad yet sincere. “Thanks for telling me.”

Xxx

“I genuinely don’t get why you love these films so much.” Lena remarked, hands cupping her just made cup of cocoa, nose adorably scrunched up as she snuggled back down on the sofa beside Kara, who didn’t hesitate to wrap an arm around her best friend’s shoulders.

“They’re sweet and romantic.” Kara replied with a happy sigh, turning to nuzzle into the side of Lena’s head for a fleeting moment as the film’s lead started her joyful march down the aisle. “It makes me hopeful.”

“Hopeful?” Lena repeated curiously, leaning away slightly so she could meet Kara’s blue eyes.

Kara shrugged, ducking her head bashfully, “It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Lena murmured gently, freeing a hand from her mug so that she could interlace her warmed fingers with Kara’s, “you could never be stupid, especially not about something like this.” Her best friend asserted, before asking seriously, “You want the classic big white wedding?”

“Uh…” Kara blushed, cheeks pinking as her mind struggled to kick into gear.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena that the reason she loved weddings more than any other event is because they so closely resembled Kryptonian Bonding ceremonies. That the exchanging of rings, polished everlasting metal, reminded her of wonderfully crafted bracelets clasped on wrists. That it was an occasion for family to join together across generations, for the rare flashes of art and music on Krypton to take centre stage over cold science.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena that after being alone, abandoned and lost - ripped away from her home in the cruelest of ways - that the idea of belonging to someone else, of having a home in someone else regardless of time or location was what Kara wanted more than anything else.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena because it would require admitting the truth of who she really was, it would require taking accountability for years of lies.

She didn’t know how to tell Lena without losing her forever.

“Yeah.” Kara coughed awkwardly, “I want the whole thing. Beautiful dress, surrounded by family… the love of my life at the end of the aisle. Everything.” She shot Lena a side-long glance, “I’m guessing you don’t?”

“Never really been my thing,” Lena admitted readily and Kara’s heart twisted at how Lena didn’t hesitate to bare herself, how she gave all of herself when it could be argued that Kara - at best - only gave half, “probably because I can’t imagine I have enough people in my life to invite and feel ‘surrounded’.” Lena pursed her lips thoughtfully, “I also don’t get the need for the spectacle. Just the idea that there’s someone out there that would want to…” Kara watched her best friend deflate, expression wistful and pained, “be with me, love me like that… that’s more than enough.”

Kara’s eyes stung with barely suppressed tears at how little Lena thought of herself. Whoever had the privilege of marrying her best friend would be the single luckiest and most fortunate person in the universe and Kara wished Lena knew that, wished she believed it. But when she opened her mouth to say it, to proclaim it, her breath faltered and her courage abandoned her… like it always did with the youngest Luthor.

“So no white dress?” Kara muttered instead, voice meek and lacking the lightheartedness that should have carried the question.

It didn’t matter, though, Lena let out a quick exhale that resembled something on the edge of laughter. Kara’s escalating heart rate settled at that, however, it did little to alleviate the pang of regret that was steadily accompanying all her interactions with the CEO.

“Well, I guess I could be convinced by someone special.” Lena teased, shooting Kara an overtly salacious wink that wouldn’t - on the surface - be considered genuine.

“Anyone that marries you will have to be special.” Kara replied, the statement tumbling out instantly.

It wasn’t the heartfelt confession that Kara wished it to be and it wasn’t quite light enough to be dismissed as a friendly reassurance. Instead, it was yet another thing that fell into the ethereal greyness that lied between them, something to tuck away and think back on late at night when they tried to work out if the other meant it the way they wished they did.

“Yeah?” Lena whispered, piercing green eyes studying Kara’s face closely.

Kara swallowed thickly, “Yeah.”

Xxx

Lena found out less than six weeks after that movie night. They defeated Lex and Kara had been on the edge of breathing easy, of being able to simply relax back into her life when it all came crashing down.

They had been at Games Night and Kara had been antsy, waiting for her best friend to arrive. The thought of pulling Lena into a hug had been what she had been looking forward to most all day.

Kara was at peace, laughing and drinking with her friends - her family - when Lena had arrived. Kara had beamed up at her immediately and for a second Lena’s entrancing green eyes lit up in return before turning dark and distant.

Kara’s smile faltered, crinkle appearing between her brows when-

The wine bottle smashed into the wall behind Kara’s head.

Deathly silence fell over the area.

Kara looked into hollow, emptied out versions of her favourite green. She would have preferred anger, fury, rage… the defeated nothingness staring back at the Kryptonian was far worse.

Lena turned and left, grinding Kara’s heart to dust and taking the sand particles left with her.

She knew.

She knew because Lex had told her.

She knew because she had gone to stop her brother, intent on saving the world like always only to find out that those she was saving the world for didn’t view her as their equal. That the people she treated as family had kept her on the outskirts. That her best friend had lied, had manipulated, had-

xxx

It was Lois that found out everything from Lena.

When the fallout had happened, as Kara and the Superfriends realised what they had lost, the blonde hero sent notice to her cousin that his identity was probably known as well (mostly because she remembered how hurt she had been when Kal shared her secret without her consent). Kal and Lois had arrived almost immediately, frantic and terrified (especially with baby Jon to consider) at the concept of a Luthor knowing their identity.

Kara, joined by all the Superfriends, quickly put their minds to rest, sharing Lena’s actions from before, her dependability, kindness and inherent goodness. Kal and Lois were convinced their secret was safe but they were horrified to hear how Lena had been isolated and kept at arms length after her considerable good deeds. Alex and the others had squirmed uncomfortably and tried to weakly talk around their hesitancy.

Kal and Lois had simply looked at Kara for an explanation but she had none. Yet again the words would not come.

It was Lois, therefore, that had sought out the youngest Luthor and through her incredible tenacity was able to gain access where everyone else was rebuffed and harshly rejected.

It was Lois that comforted Lena, gave her support and sympathy.

It was Lois that relayed Lena’s demand that they give her space.

It was Lois that suggested Lena return to Metropolis - presenting it as a way to celebrate how L-Corp, after Lena’s repeated sacrifices and heroism, was fully rehabilitated and ready to reclaim its once home.

It was Lois that encouraged Lena and Kal to work together becoming an unstoppable force that Kara and Lena had always danced on the precipice of.

A Luthor and a Super. Saving the world.

xxx

Kara did as asked. Gave Lena space. Or at least the semblance of space.

She checked in constantly, hovered nearby throughout the days and nights leading upto L-Corp’s departure and Lena along with it. She followed Lena’s jet to Metropolis, a sentinel ensuring safe passage.

She kept her distance for three months. Three months of stony silence before she broke.

Snapped, more like.

Landing on Lena’s new balcony in Metropolis that had been specially built for Superman this time - not for her, though Kara, at the time, had hoped that she had been considered consciously or unconsciously as well.

Kara couldn’t remember the exact words.

She remembered crying from beginning to end.

Remembered ‘I loved you’ - past tense.

Remembered finally breaking through Lena’s cold, hardened shell to the raw, bleeding wound hidden underneath and regretting it almost immediately.

Remembered how seeing Lena’s agony was worse than kryptonite, worse than watching Krypton burn…

Remembered Lena saying she needed time to heal, for Kara to stop hovering nearby - because she knew, she sensed Kara’s presence even without seeing her once - and to give her time to stop thinking of Kara and feeling only pain when she did so.

Remembered promising to do just that.

Remembered a timer starting to count in her head - the seconds that she would be condemned to purgatory.

Remembered the hope that just refused to go out - the hope that whispered give it time, give it time, give it time with every beat of her heart.

Remembered thinking that given enough time Lena would reach out and they would get the chance that Kara had almost destroyed for them.

Remembered flying zig-zagged and dangerous to Alex where her endless stream of tears returned to full flow as she sobbed into her sister’s shoulder using words and phrases like ‘heartbroken’ and ‘I love her’ and ‘I can’t survive this pain’ and ‘what do I do?’ and ‘I can’t breathe’.

Remembered a hollowed out shell of Kara Danvers moving through the motions for a year, for two, three, four… five...

Remembered taking up drinking to excess whenever she saw Lena’s life flourish and grow - not because she didn’t want Lena to be happy, that was what Kara wanted and wished for more than anything - because she wasn’t there with her for those life-changing events.

Remembered Alex and Kelly’s worries growing with each occurrence, intervening more and more to such a degree that they encouraged Kara to consider AA meetings - she did eventually, and found destroying entire junkyards to be a healthier coping mechanism, external destruction rather than internal.

Remembered Brainy at the behest of Alex, setting up Kara’s phone and computer to prevent searching for any keywords affiliated to Lena and to alert Alex if Kara ever managed to stumble upon a news article.

Remembered listening to Kal and Lois skipping large parts of stories where it was clear that Lena was involved - it was nice in some way to know Lena was getting the credit she deserved, but it hurt when Kal’s stories started to involve gaps at Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year (events that made Kara’s loneliness even more acute and her longing intensify).

Remembered her life without Lena.

Remembered regret and guilt and loss.

Remembered-

“She’s getting married.”

xxx

Kara shouldn’t have been there. Shouldn’t be anywhere in the vaguest vicinity of where she currently was.

The bride was dressed in a simple silky white shift, sipping intermittently from her champagne glass as she stared contemplatively up at the designer white dress hanging off the door in front of her. Raven locks were pinned up, so tight and intricate that it made Kara wince sympathetically at how it must tug and pinch at the bride’s scalp - she’d always preferred it down, loose and curling… soft and inviting. The bride’s make-up was artistic with a dramatic edge that would captivate but made her look… not like herself in Kara’s opinion.

Or maybe after five years it made Lena look more like herself - the version of herself she had become once free of Kara and all the pain she brought into her life.

She was hovering outside the dressing room window, trying to work out how far she was willing to take this. If it would be better to leave without saying anything, to try and leave some part of Lena’s life unspoiled.

It was the fear that she had always given into when she was best friends with Lena that made her decision for her. Like speaking her truth and learning to ask for what she wanted - Kara had also promised herself that she would never allow that bone deep fear to stop her ever again.

The window was open and it was as good an invite as Kara was ever going to get.

“Lena?”

The beautiful bride-to-be jerked in her place, champagne glass nearly tumbling to the floor but saved at the last second.

She didn’t turn around for a beat… then two…

Kara was just about to escape back through the window when Lena exhaled slowly and pivoted round to meet her.

“Kara?” Lena breathed out, green eyes closed off and wary.

The kryptonian studied the love of her life for a moment, taking in every little detail - soaking it all up as if accepting that this would be the last time she might ever get to see it again. That the timer that had counted past five years would stop after this moment, the hope powering it gone forever.

“Don’t marry them, please.” Kara requested, no flowery language, no build up. Just the honest truth.

“What?” Lena’s jaw dropped and the champagne glass didn’t survive the second shock, crashing to the ground - released by trembling fingers.

“Don’t marry them.” Kara repeated, uncaring of how the carpet below them soaked up the amber liquid.

Lena’s expression flitted through an array of emotions before settling on indignant rage, “And why the hell not?!”

Kara didn’t flinch, didn’t retreat, instead she stood taller, the crest of her super suit catching the early afternoon light. “Because it should have been me. It still should be me.”

Lena scoffed in disbelief, “You can’t be serious. Now? You’re doing this now?”

Kara pursed her lips, fighting back the regret that always came with the reminders of countless missed opportunities. “Yes.”

The straightforwardness of Kara’s answers seemed to be throwing Lena, leaving her wrong-footed, clearly expecting the blonde to talk around and hint and imply like she used to.

But Kara had learnt. (The lesson had been too painful not to.)

“You had years, Kara!” Lena argued, “Years where I…. I threw myself at you. Practically begged you to love me… to trust me…”

“I know.” Kara replied sadly, wanting desperately to reach out when Lena’s pretty green eyes began to glisten with unshed tears. “I know. But I’m here now.”

“I don’t want you to be.” Lena muttered, arms crossed over her chest and head ducked downwards to hide her expression.

“I know that too.” Kara assured, fingers twitching with the desire to make contact, to comfort and coax - even after all these years her body remembered, the pathways of hardwired instinct related to her best friend were still there, still active even if temporarily closed for service.

“Then why are you here?” Lena murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

“Because I’m in love with you.”

Lena’s head snapped up at that, green eyes like saucers.

Kara’s single biggest regret was that she had never said those words to Lena before, had alluded and pointed at them during their final interaction but had never outright said them. And Lena had deserved to hear them then and deserved to hear them now to forever vanquish the doubts that had always been with her.

“Because I’m in love with you and we didn’t get our chance.” Kara affirmed, taking a half step closer to the bride, her red heeled boots and Lena’s bare feet meaning the younger woman had to tip her head ever so slightly back to maintain eye contact. “We didn’t get our chance because of me. Because I was afraid, I was so afraid of losing you. Of doing even the slightest thing that could mean you weren’t in my life. And in the end every action I took out of fear of losing you ensured just that. I’ve spent five years without you, Lena, and I can’t bear a single day more.”

“Kara,” Lena whispered, “I’m getting married.”

“I know.” Kara smiled sadly before adding, “Don’t.”

“What are you suggesting? Seriously?” Lena sighed, shaking her head mournfully and Kara knew she was losing her then.

“I’m suggesting that we have our chance now before it's gone forever.”

Gathering the small amount of courage Kara had left, she tentatively let her hands nudge forwards, brushing against Lena’s cool, pale fingers. That small contact was everything. Made it easier to breathe, made the colours of the world more vibrant, made everything just more.

“I let fear hold me back from the person that made me happiest in the entire universe and I won’t let it hold me back again.”

“Kara…” Lena whimpered, glancing back over her shoulder at the closed door that her wedding dress was displayed on, though she didn’t pull her hand away from Kara’s touch, didn’t flinch or retreat.

“Do it.” Kara pleaded, stepping across that final slither of distance between them, her forehead leaning forward to rest gently against the side of Lena’s, “Take a chance, I’m begging you. You don’t want to spend the rest of your life wondering what could have been.”

Lena inhaled shakily, head returning to forward facing - foreheads pressed against one another, breathing in the same air - and then… and then…

Lena’s hands slipped fully into Kara’s, fingers intertwining together.

[ldss-interactive]

At Alter’s End: A CYOA Novel

Overview:

Trentworth, Maine. A town of ten thousand southeast of Ellsworth and North of Bayside. Its only bragging point since its conception in 1867 was being a shoreline city and cheaper than any of the other big tourist towns. Nothing ever happened here, besides the occasional drowning or fishing trip accident, until the killings started. They lasted five years in total and 48 people were lost to the killer’s sick desires. Robert Hall terrorized this small town, slipping under the radar by focusing on those considered “undesirable”; sex workers, orphans, drug addicts, and the like. Now ten years later, ten years after the killer has been put behind bars, murders have begun again. A copycat killer has come to Trentworth. And they seem to be targeting the ones left behind, still trying to pick up the shattered pieces of their lives…

You take the role of a highschool senior; your parents having died in a home fire shortly before the killer was put behind bars and now under the care of your workaholic aunt. Make allies of your classmates or attempt to go it alone, clear your parents’ name from their believed involvement with the killer or fight to put the past behind you, deal with the skeletons in your closet and mind or bury them deeper... Oh, and make sure your history project is turned in on time. With two young siblings depending on you and a whole host of problems a highschool student should never have to deal with, can you survive this nightmare made real?

Trigger Warnings: This game will go into very heavy topics including the following; murder, death, various mental health issues (such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety), abandonment, gambling, various types of drug addiction, self harm mentions (not happening to the MC or shown in graphic detail), suicide, sex work, child abuse (mental, emotional, and physical), and dangerous situations. This is a murder mystery/thriller, it is NOT intended for audiences below 18.

Hello! Thank you for showing interest in At Alter’s End. This is a Choose Your Own Adventure style novel in the Thriller and Murder Mystery genres. It would also fit nicely in the Drama genre as well, but Drama is not the focus. This will be a rather lengthy project, with fifteen chapters plus a prologue and epilogue planned.

You take on the role of a senior at Trentworth High. Join an after-school activity, take care of your younger siblings, prepare for finals, get a part time job, find a date to homecoming, and survive your worst nightmare come to life. The copycat killer is targeting the students of your school and no one is safe. With the police dragging their feet, no help coming any time soon from any higher up law enforcement, and the locals refusing to acknowledge the possibility of a copycat killer, it’s up to you and your classmates to find the person responsible...before it’s too late.

- You can play as female, male, nonbinary, or trans!

- You can be straight, gay, or bisexual!

- A highly customizable MC including hair color, eye color, skin color, hair length, height, and personality and interests!

- The ability to choose which mental illness the MC suffers from due to the trauma of their past from the following:

Anxiety, Depression, or PTSD.

- The MC is deaf in their right ear ear due to the way in which their parents died; this is not something that can be changed.

- Choose from 7 different official after-school activities! Trentworth Volunteers, Up and Coming Artists, National Debate Society, National Honors Society, Co-Ed Varsity Basketball, Creative Writing, and Trentworth Gardeners!

- Bond with your classmates, explore your town, and help raise your younger siblings!

- Rescue your parents’ bakery from corporate clutches or let it go!

- Find the killer, stop the murders, and put a stop to the rumors that have plagued your every step for 10 years!

Vanya: Oldest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive siblings, 6 years younger than MC. Strong-headed, intelligent, and always getting into trouble. She looks after her brother and MC in the ways she can.

Ajay: Youngest adoptive twin sibling to MC’s adoptive sibling, 6 years younger than MC. Nearly completely blind since birth, he enjoys painting and other artistic endeavors. Obedient yet opinionated.

Aunt Emma: The workaholic aunt that takes custody of MC and their younger siblings after the death of their parents. Well meaning but absent most of the time on business trips or at the office.

Kwan Hall: An adoptive relative to Robert Hall; aloof, intelligent, and completely ostracized by Trentworth as a whole. When the killings start again the town’s attention is immediately turned on Kwan. He’s the first to begin investigating the killings when the police prove their incompetence. He is of Korean descent, standing at 5’6” with dark hair and dark eyes. His most notable feature is the long scar that stretches from his forehead’s hairline, down his left temple, and ends just below his jawline and the constant disinterest on his face. He is asexual in that he doesn’t experience sexual attraction at all. He is also bisexual.

Alessia D’Agostina: Trentworth High’s school president. She’s clawed her way tooth and nail up to earn the respect of both the school faculty and her fellow classmates; she’s strong-willed, dependable, and always looks at things through a logical lens. When she sees her classmates dying, she takes it upon herself to try and stop this once and for all. With dark skin, deep brown eyes, long braided hair, and standing at 5’8” her confidence and sense of self always make sure she stands out from the crowd. Alessia is bisexual.

Georgiy Kuzmin: Twin brother to Anastasiya Kuzmin; he is, in the kindest way possible, not the brightest bulb in the box. Yet he always means well and is more than willing to offer a helping hand. As the co-captain of the basketball team, captain of the baseball team, and the star of the swim team, Georgiy is one of the most popular and well beloved students at Trentworth High. When he realizes his friends are in danger, he willingly throws himself into the investigation to do all he can to help. With fair skin, dirty blond hair, bubbly green eyes, and standing at 6’1” he cuts an approachable figure to anyone who knows him. Georgiy is gay.

Anastasiya Kuzmin: Twin sister to Georgiy Kuzmin: she and her brother are alike in so many ways apart from just appearance. Anastasiya, who goes by Ana more often than not, is head of the Co-Ed Varsity Basketball team, the Girls’ softball team, and the Tennis team. Just as popular and loved as her brother, Ana may not be the smartest but she makes up for it with passion and dedication. Like her brother, she has fairer skin, dirty blond hair, and bright green eyes. Also like her brother, she felt she couldn’t just sit around while her friends were put in danger and agreed to join the investigation. Ana is gay and demiromantic, meaning she only gains feelings for someone after having a strong relationship with them.

Lillian Triano: A quiet, withdrawn girl who mainly keeps to herself. Due to the fact that Trentworth High demands for every senior to be apart of an elective, she is mainly seen in afterschool reading club run by Ms. Habeeb. She’s MC’s closest friend, having been one of the only people who didn’t believe the rumors that MC’s parents were assisting Robert Hall in his murders. She has an olive complexion, brown eyes, a heavy dose of freckles, and stands at 5’1”. Lillian is gay.

Jasmine Abernathy: Jasmine is Trentworth High’s self proclaimed “Best news source!” After the school newspaper was disbanded, Jasmine took it upon herself to keep freedom of the press alive. She’s fierce in her pursuit of the truth and never one to back down from a fight, though her rash attitude can get her into some sticky situations on occasion. With vibrant red hair, dark brown eyes, and standing at 5’3” she puts the term “fire” in Fire Signs. (She’s an Aries in astrology!) When the copycat killings began, it was no surprise when she took the case head on. Jasmine is bisexual.

Asa San Nicholas: Asa is the oldest of a set of triplets; they’re the type to march to the beat of their own drum, often not listening to what anyone has to say about themselves or their interests. Asa is a firm believer in the paranormal and it isn’t uncommon to find them indulging in their interest in various ways. “The spirits are distrubed. These deaths aren’t meant to happen.” Asa’s reason for getting involved seems to tie directly back to their “connection” with the spirits of the town. Asa has black hair, most often tied in a ponytail, hazel eyes, and an olive skin tone. At 6’4” they tower over most everyone...something they seem to enjoy a great deal. Asa doesn’t see gender and is interested in people regardless of how they present.

Leo San Nicholas: The middle of the triplets. They are genderfluid, okay with any pronouns. Leo is, for lack of a better word, eccentric. A bit of an adrenaline junkie, you can often find them cliff diving or giving their siblings heart attacks by playing russian roulette with a chocolate gun. To them, it isn’t fun if there isn’t a little danger involved; naturally, an investigation into a serial killer scratches that itch quite nicely. Their black hair is clipped short, multiple piercings visible on each ear, and their heterochromatic hazel and green eyes are often stated to stare through a person. Although Leo is genderfluid, they are only interested in people who present as female.

The demo is upcoming! When it is available I will make a post announcing it! I will also update this post with the link! This game is written in choicescript; the demo will be published on Dashingdon and the final game will be published for free on itch.io. I am open for questions regarding this game/novel and once the demo is published I will also be publishing a link to my Ko-fi! Until then, please don’t hesitate to ask if you have any questions!

[luckhound]

— heavy burdens.

pairing.  kaeya/gender neutral reader

genre.  angst

description.  on an important anniversary, kaeya gets drunk off his ass, bonds with a fellow captain, and realizes some burdens can’t ever be set back down.

warnings.  spoilers for kaeya and diluc’s character stories. mentions of alcohol and a character (kaeya) being under the influence.

note.  four months later and i’ve finally finished this fic after writing it on and off for that whole time mskfjdks a big thank you to sierra, miya, and grace for reading over the previous drafts of this and giving me their honest thoughts, love you ladies <3

He hadn’t expected to get shitfaced when he had first stepped foot in the tavern. Honest.

His plan for the evening was as follows: Go to Angel’s Share, chat with patrons, share some laughs, learn some secrets, and see where the night goes. Only the information he gleaned would tell how it ended; with him stumbling back to his quarters for a night’s rest, or ruminating on how to dismantle schemes that enemies of Mondstadt were concocting in the shadows.

So, the usual. Nothing too noteworthy.

Then he happened to overhear a conversation on the way there.

The two civilians spoke in low, somber tones about how it has been exactly one year since Master Crepus’s death and his son Diluc’s subsequent departure from Mondstadt. How terrible, they mused as they shook their heads, that the new winery master hasn’t been heard from since. He must still be in mourning over his father.

Kaeya nearly stopped in the middle of the crowded street. Was today really the one-year anniversary of Master Crepus’s death? How had it managed to slip his mind? He’s been busy lately with a promising lead, true, but to think that he would forget...

Which, long story cut ruthlessly short, leads him to where he is now. Tuning out his tumultuous thoughts with the help of alcohol and secrets.

Upon entering the tavern to raucous cheers, he had flitted from table to table like the social butterfly he's purported to be. The usual suspects greeted him with varying levels of warmth, inviting him to sit and keep them company. Stable hands and bandits alike shared a drink with him, words spilling from their lips like the fine wine they supped on.

After some time, though, he grew tired of their monotonous days and banal gripes. So he retreated to the bar counter. As he nursed a Death After Noon, he kept an ear out, listening carefully even as he chatted with Charles between customers.

Unfortunately, he hasn’t heard anything juicy yet. So and so is complaining about his wife, while someone else is haranguing her boss, and another is celebrating their birthday. Dull and uninteresting.

Can you blame him for getting so deep in his cups? There’s nothing else to do on such a slow night.

“So this is where you decided to hide out. Colour me surprised.”

Kaeya notes the shadow falling over the counter moments before a familiar drawl reaches his ears. He tilts his head up, blinking furiously when his vision blurs. The drinks he's downed thus far—how many has it been? He lost count after five, how unlike him—have certainly reached his bloodstream.

You stand beside his stool, your lips thinned into an unimpressed line. Despite how inebriated he is, the relevant information he has on you flashes through his mind. A Knight of Favonius. Captain of the Intelligence Team. Once a company grade officer, then sergeant, lieutenant, before ascending to captain upon the retirement of your superior.

As admired as he is by most of Mondstadt, you’re among the minority who are far from his biggest fans. For good reason, he supposes. During your first meeting, he had congratulated you on your promotion, before going on to flippantly insult your old captain. You’ve hated him ever since.

Which is why he’s puzzled by you approaching him first—outside of headquarters, at that. Such a phenomenon is rare, like catching a crystalfly in your hands.

“Captain! Fancy seeing you here,” he greets, adopting a jovial tone. Then your words register in his addled mind. “‘Hide out’, you said? Whatever would I do that for?”

You prop a hand on your hip. “You didn’t make an appearance at the meeting today. Needless to say, the Dandelion Knight isn’t too impressed with you at the moment.” You appraise him, looking underwhelmed by what you see. Ouch. “Strange. You don’t seem terribly ill to me.”

Ah. That. Kaeya had wanted to investigate some curious rumours he’d heard around the city, so he made up a flimsy excuse to dodge the captain’s meeting held this morning. Grand Master Varka likely hadn’t batted an eye over it, but not Jean. She’ll have concerns.

He hums noncommittally. The thought of annoying his oldest ally never fails to bring a smirk to his lips, but he isn’t quite in the mood right now. “Is that so. You must be here to sternly tell me to clean up my act then.”

You scoff. “Surely you don’t need a second babysitter. No, I’m off-duty, so I’m here for the same reason everyone else is: to drink.”

“Hear, hear.” He lifts his tankard as if to toast to you, but the sudden momentum causes him to sway dangerously in his seat.

“Careful!” Eyes widening in alarm, you reach out to steady him. “Geez, Alberich. How many drinks have you had?”

The palm of your hand is warm where it sits on his shoulder; he can tell that even with his furs in the way. He almost leans into the touch but catches himself at the last second. How mortifying. He can just picture your horrified reaction to him drunkenly nuzzling up against you.

Almost falling off his seat in a crowded tavern, instinctively seeking out your slightest touch... He needs to get a hold of himself. Or find a way to halt the conversation here, so he can resume drinking by his lonesome.

“Not nearly enough,” he answers airily, leaning an elbow on the bar counter. You drop your hand to your side; he makes a point to not stare at it as you do. “Where’s your entourage? I’m surprised they aren't following dutifully behind you.”

“They’re my subordinates, not my entourage.” You shift awkwardly. “And they aren’t here. It may surprise you, but they have lives outside of the Intelligence Team. They can enjoy one evening without their captain breathing down their necks.”

He eyes you in amusement. “In that case, you should join me. I would welcome the company.” He finishes off his tankard, then motions to Charles for another drink. The bartender doesn’t even ask which one as he takes the pewter mug. He knows him well by now, after all.

Kaeya expects you to turn him down and find a seat elsewhere. Usually, such an invitation is enough to send you running for the hills. You lean a hip against the counter instead, as if settling in. “If I am not mistaken, you’re needed at headquarters tomorrow. I strongly advise you to call it a night, Captain.”

“Aww, are you worried about me, Captain?” He manages a grin at the scowl his reply elicits. “Don’t be. It won’t be the first time I stumble into work hungover. Certainly won’t be the last either.”

“How reassuring,” you say dryly.

“I aim to please.”

He perks up when Charles returns with a full tankard. The delectable taste of Death After Noon still sits on his tongue, warm and heady. He very much wants to experience it again. When he lifts the mug to his mouth, however, he misses the rim. He steadies the tankard before it empties itself onto his lap, but some of the wine drips down his chin, ruining his vest.

Thank goodness he isn’t drinking red wine. Every adult in Mondstadt knows red wine stains are notoriously difficult to clean. Still, what a waste of a perfectly good sip.

“Oh, for Barbatos’s sake.” That’s all the warning he gets before his drink is rudely snatched from his hand. He protests but can only watch helplessly as you bring it to your lips.

Then you proceed to down it.

His brows raise higher and higher the longer your throat bobs. He's never seen you drink with such gusto before. Shouldn’t you be gasping for breath by now? But no, you empty the tankard in a single go, then slam it on the counter (Charles makes a face, but wisely says nothing) and meet his gaze without flinching.

Wow, is all that his intoxicated mind can conjure up at the feat.

“There, all done. Now let’s go. I am walking you back.” Your voice is firm, brooking no argument. How captain-like of you. “Wouldn’t want Mondstadt’s illustrious Cavalry Captain to be found passed out in an alleyway tomorrow.”

On any other day, he’d be mildly irked by your stubbornness. But he did just spill his drink down his front like a newborn babe. No wonder you brought up his rank. In your eyes, his conduct must not befit that of a high-ranking knight. He doesn’t care what assumptions people form about him, never has, but tonight has been a bust anyway. Maybe it's best to call it quits.

Sighing theatrically, he rises to his feet. “All right, I know when I have been beaten. But don’t change your plans on my account. I can head to the barracks by myself just fine.”

“I’m sure you can,” you say, “but letting you walk alone this late in your state would grate at my conscience. So would you stop talking for once, and let me take you home?”

You get what you want. Your words render him silent.

Home, you called the barracks. He supposes you consider that place your home. But is it his, truly?

He thinks of Khaenri’ah, nothing but a distant, bloody memory. He thinks of his father, and how in their final moments together, the man had stared through him like he wasn’t there. He thinks of the Dawn Winery, where he had spent several years causing mayhem. He thinks of Master Crepus, never dad, and a brother who doesn’t exist anymore.

No, the barracks aren’t his home. Maybe he’s never had one to begin with.

When he comes to, Kaeya registers you leading him in the direction of the tavern door, your hand on his shoulder blade. This quickly catches the attention of the patrons. They call out their goodbyes, some raising their tankards and others chuckling good-naturedly.

“Look at that! Our Cavalry Cap’n had too much to drink, eh?”

“What, are you tapping out already, Captain Kaeya?”

“Has to be escorted out by a fellow knight, no less!”

You wave over your shoulder. “Just doing my patriotic duty, that's all.”

Kaeya gives his audience an exaggerated wink (as well as he can with his one uncovered eye) followed by a lazy hand salute. His grin remains fixed in place until the door swings shut. The wooden barrier barely muffles the sounds of conversation and merriment coming from within.

Had it been that loud while he was inside? He hadn’t noticed.

He isn’t able to dwell on it for long, because you nudge him in the direction of headquarters. “Come on. We have a bit of a walk ahead of us. Let’s get to it.”

“Oh, very well. But only because you asked so nicely.”

“I wasn’t asking.”

“I know. I was being sarcastic.”

You nudge him harder, and he snickers under his breath as he walks.

This time of night, the cobblestone streets seem devoid of life. With the exception of Patton, who’s practically asleep standing up, the two of you don’t run into anyone. It's a stark change from how the city usually is, bright and bustling with crowds.

It suits him just fine, though. The crisp night air is sobering him up somewhat, the fog that had settled over his mind thinning. All too soon, he recalls everything he was trying to suppress.

Master Crepus. Diluc. His callousness and cruelty in forgetting them both.

In hindsight, he should have taken his mug back from you instead of just gaping like a fool. Sobriety is such a drag.

“You’re quiet,” you comment. You’re staring at him intently, your expression eerily similar to Timaeus’s when he is observing an alchemical reaction. It’s as if he is a specimen that you are keen on studying under a microscope.

He wants to scowl, to snap at you. “My apologies,” he says instead, as innocent as can be. “Were you waiting for me to strike up a conversation? Hold on a moment, let me think of a good topic...”

“That is not what I meant and you know it. It’s just, usually it’s impossible to get you to stop talking. The times I have seen you...indisposed”—buzzed as a bee, you undoubtedly mean—“that doesn’t change. You talk more, if anything.”

Curiously, your voice softens, an odd cadence colouring it. One he has not heard from you before, not directed at him at least. “I guess I’m just wondering if something is weighing on your mind. Is that what prompted you to drink so much tonight?”

By now, the two of you have walked down the stairway to the Knights of Favonius’s bulletin board. Of course, Hertha isn’t there this late to assign requests and bounties. The pieces of parchment pinned to the board flutter in the breeze. He stares at the sketch of a Ruin Guard, willing his sluggish mind to craft a suitable answer.

After a beat, his eye slides over to you. An impish grin curls at the corners of his mouth. “My, I had no idea that you watched my every move so closely. I’m flattered by the attention.”

Predictably, you sputter. “What even—that is not—you know what, if you want to dodge the question so badly, fine. We can just walk the rest of the way in silence.”

“As you wish, Captain.”

Although his words were said to fluster you into changing the subject, as you had correctly deduced, Kaeya means them. You have noticed him far more than he realized. As Captain of the Intelligence Team, it’s your job to be observant and keep tabs on others. He knows that. Still, it’s disconcerting to learn that you’ve had a close eye on him in particular.

He operates from the shadows for a reason; he can’t have you jeopardizing that by shining a light on him. Five months into your new position, and already you have proven yourself to be dangerous.

As you wished for, silence reigns as the two of you turn into an alley and approach two flights of stairs, leading to the center of the city. Kaeya resists pressing a hand against the nearest wall for balance. He had walked down a stairway unaided just moments ago, despite how unsteady he felt. Surely ascending some steps would prove to be easier.

Rather than focus on his feet, he looks up ahead. From his position, he can just barely glimpse the blades of a windmill, ever-turning against the dark backdrop of the night sky. He keeps his gaze there as he climbs, his boots scraping against stone.

He clears the first flight of stairs with little issue. See? Nothing to it.

Halfway up the second, Kaeya stumbles.

His surroundings tilt, blurring as he fumbles for balance. It’s a futile effort. Thanks to how inebriated he is, his limbs are too heavy and uncoordinated. The stone below rushes up to meet him.

Before his face can greet it, however, you catch him.

Your side moulds against his, a hand clasping his hip while the other carefully grasps at his spiked pauldron. His gloved hand covers yours reflexively as his racing heartbeat settles. He feels you stiffen at the touch, but you don't pull away. Neither does he.

For a moment, not a word is spoken between you both. The alley is filled only with the soft sound of breathing.

Then you click your tongue. “So much for heading back by yourself. You can barely keep your feet under you.” Your voice lilts with humour.

He knows this song and dance. It has been ingrained in him after all these months. You snark at him, he snarks back. Rinse and repeat. Although this is the first time he has heard levity in your tone; the first time it has been aimed at him, that is. He almost hadn’t thought you capable of it.

He straightens with a chuckle. “First at the tavern, and now in an alley. I just keep falling for you tonight, don’t I?”

You blink owlishly. It takes a moment for the words to sink in. Then a flustered expression crosses your features, before you compose yourself. “You are unbelievable.”

He grins. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You roll your eyes, even as the corners of your lips twitch. “You would.”

Kaeya expects you to move away, so the two of you can resume walking, but you don’t. “Not that I mind having your hands on me, but...will you be letting go any time soon?”

“That depends.” A challenging glint appears in your eye. “Can you handle walking on your own? Or do you need me to cradle you the rest of the way to headquarters, like some damsel?”

He guffaws, taken off-guard by the retort. A reply escapes his loosened tongue before he can think better of it, “Archons, that sounded just like him.”

“Like who?”

“My brother.”

In the past, despite being underage, he was sometimes able to charm bartenders at Angel’s Share—new hires unaware of how to deal with him as of yet—into serving him drinks. Diluc would find him eventually, a disapproving twist to his mouth, and put a stop to it.

Back then, Kaeya was a lightweight and had to be supported back to headquarters. Diluc would scowl and roll his eyes the entire way, but there was still a softness in his gaze. His hands were strong, but careful; Kaeya knew that his brother would not let him fall. He could even be persuaded to join in when Kaeya began to sing, their off-key voices disturbing the silence of the night.

Come morning, while Kaeya nursed the inevitable headache and Jean nagged him about violating the Knights of Favonius Handbook, Diluc would snort. “Serves you right,” he’d say, then hand him a draught for curing hangovers.

Now Kaeya must weather the pain alone.

You tilt your head to the side, your gaze fixed on his. “I had no idea that you have a brother,” you say softly.

Had, he nearly corrects. But he has told you too much already.

This is why he is so careful when drinking in the company of others. Alcohol is a double-edged sword; as delectable as it is, it also loosens inhibitions. It’s what he relies on when charming information out of allies and adversaries alike, none of them the wiser of what they have given up.

How the tables have turned.

“Well, now you do.” A trace of bitterness enters his tone.

You eye him, quiet, before pulling back. You motion forward with your chin. “Let’s keep moving. We’ll never make it to headquarters at this pace.”

Relieved by the subject change, he listens. He makes a conscious effort to place one foot in front of the other, gaze trained on the remaining steps below. You stay at his side, closer than you were before. He can feel your hand hovering at the small of his back, ready to catch him should he trip once more, but he ignores it.

It won’t happen again. He’ll make sure of it.

The alley opens up to a view of the market district. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have long to enjoy the reprieve. The two of you turn right, away from the railing overlooking the main square, to climb two more flights of stairs. A left, and more stairways await.

By the time the Knights of Favonius Headquarters looms above you, Kaeya’s legs ache from the walk. He is very much looking forward to retiring to his quarters.

The knights stationed outside stiffen at the sight of you and Kaeya, standing at attention. They perform a salute in perfect unison. Do they rehearse that before every shift? Surely they must.

The guard on the left, with the glasses and unfortunate haircut, chirps, “Good evening, Captains! I hope you are doing well.” He appears wide awake despite the late hour.

At least the one on the right looks appropriately haggard. “Welcome back,” he grunts.

While Kaeya brushes past them with a nod of acknowledgement, eager to head inside, you stop. “Good evening, Athos, Porthos. Your shift ends soon, I hope? It can’t be terribly interesting, standing watch outside headquarters so late.”

“It’s no trouble at all, Captain!” Athos, as you had referred to him, says. “Guard duty may not be glamorous, but it is still important.”

“Much as I agree with the lad, I can’t bring myself to be so damn cheerful about it,” Porthos sighs, his words tinged with self-deprecation. “Must be ‘cause of these old bones.”

“That’s not true, Sir Porthos. Your bones aren’t that old!” the younger knight argues, prompting the older to shake his head with a chuckle.

“Athos isn’t wrong,” you add. “You are far more sprightly than most knights I know.”

“If that’s true, then Mondstadt is in trouble.”

Smiling and shaking your head, you finally pass by them, climbing the short steps to return to Kaeya's side. He lifts a brow as he pulls on one of the large oak doors, holding it open for you.

It’s almost comical how quickly your smile disappears. Your eyes narrow as you enter inside. “What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” he says breezily, following after you. The door falls closed behind you both with a loud, echoing thud. “Just that I didn’t know you were so chummy with the guards.”

It is blindingly bright inside the Knights of Favonius Headquarters, as if it isn’t nearing midnight. The sconces on the walls are lit up, as is the chandelier hanging in the center of the main hall. The two of you make your way towards the—joy of all joys—staircase. The barracks for knights are located on the second floor, and on the floor above that, separate quarters for the captains.

“I am off-duty right now. It’s not unprofessional for me to speak informally with them.”

His eye widens. “Why, I never said it was unprofessional, Captain.”

You grind your teeth so hard he can practically hear the enamel wearing away. “You implied it.” No, he didn’t. Your distaste for him has you imagining mockery where there is none. As if Kaeya has any room to judge someone for acting unprofessional.

“I did? That’s news to me.” Privately, he marvels at how easily he can agitate you. Him, no one else—he has observed you long enough to know your prickliness is reserved for him alone. Maybe that’s why he annoys you further instead of clearing up the many miscommunications that tend to occur. Not that you’ll believe him, even if he’s being completely honest.

You huff. “How the Dandelion Knight manages to put up with you, I’ll never know,” you mutter.

“How rude, Captain! Jean doesn’t put up with me, she considers me indispensable.”

You cut a look at him. “Yes, I’m sure she thought the same when you failed to show up to today’s meeting.”

“Must you bring that up again? I shudder just thinking of the lecture she’ll have ready for me in the morning. Perhaps my mysterious ailment should plague me for a little while longer...”

“Prolonging the inevitable will do you no favours.” You pause briefly, then add, “Ah, I almost forgot to mention. After the meeting, I ran into Inspector Eroch. He was waiting outside and asked after you. He seemed irked when I informed him that you were absent today.”

If Kaeya was not so skilled at masking his reactions, he would’ve perked up at that. He might have even stopped in his tracks or whipped his head around to look at you. But he knows better than to give himself away so obviously. He leisurely climbs the steps, his features revealing only vague interest. “Oh? Somehow I doubt he was upset out of concern for my wellbeing.”

You glance over. “I wouldn’t know. He did not say anything when I asked why he wanted to see you, or if I could pass on a message. He just brushed me off and left.”

“Don’t be hurt by his shameful conduct, Captain. I for one enjoy your company immensely.”

You ignore his thoughtful statement. “I thought that he might have had a prior engagement with you, which you missed due to being terribly ill.”

He shrugs. “If we did, I don’t recall it.”

That earns him another look, longer than the one before. He doesn’t flinch away from it, his expression remaining serene. Privately, he wonders what you know. Are you merely intrigued by what Inspector Eroch might want with him? Or are you more aware than you’re letting on?

After all, Eroch is the one Kaeya has been secretly investigating for the past year.

Looks like the inspector has caught on. About time. No doubt he wants to figure out just how much Kaeya knows—which is not much, unfortunately. He knows that Eroch has more than just Mondstadt’s best interests in mind; a Fatui spy like him would have just the opposite. But he is unsure what the man is up to, or who he even is.

He does, however, have an inkling. Several, even.

Inspector Eroch had been insistent on covering up the details of Master Crepus’s death. For the good of Mondstadt, he claimed, not wanting the citizenry to lose faith in the Knights of Favonius. Grand Master Varka had ultimately sided with him. It resulted in Diluc resigning his position and leaving the city a year ago.

Kaeya had kept an eye on the inspector after that. He knew there was more to the situation than just preserving Mondstadt’s trust in the Knights, and it had everything to do with the dangerous and evil power Master Crepus had harnessed. It was only a matter of figuring out what. And once he has all of the information...

Well, he knows what Diluc would do, once upon a time. Blazing with righteous fury, he’d take his findings to Grand Master Varka, insisting on Eroch’s arrest and expulsion from the Knights of Favonius. He would see it as retribution for how poorly his father’s death had been handled.

But Kaeya suffers from no delusions. Maybe he looked into Eroch because of Master Crepus. Maybe he wanted some kind of revenge for what happened. Maybe he yearned to atone for his past inaction. None of that means he has any heroic intentions.

If it serves his interests better, he won’t expose the inspector immediately. He will hoard his knowledge instead, keeping his cards close to his chest until it’s the right time to play them.

That is how he has always operated. Master Crepus's death and Diluc's departure have not changed that. For a brief, nonsensical moment, he wishes they had. Then common sense returns to him. A foolhardy sense of justice is of no use to him. He’ll leave that to Diluc.

While he extricates himself from his wayward thoughts, you turn away to clear the last few steps. “If it is important, surely he will try to approach you again,” you say.

“I look forward to it with bated breath.”

You scoff, rightfully skeptical, but don’t respond. Clearly, you are content to leave it at that.

He wonders at how easily you let the subject drop. Had you suspected something, you would have pushed to learn more, wouldn’t you? Now is as opportune a time as any; it’s late, he’s tired and drunk, and the both of you are alone. Does that make you oblivious, or an idiot, or crafty?

Having made it to the third floor, the two of you make your way down the hallway. His quarters are before your own, three doors on the left. He stops in front of his door, reaching into one of many hidden coat pockets to produce his key.

He glances at you. You have yet to leave for own your room. “You don’t have to hover at my side, you know,” he says with a touch of amusement. “I may be tipsy, but I am no longer in any danger of being harassed by ruffians or passing out in the streets. Unless you're secretly harbouring nefarious intentions towards me, Captain.”

“You’ll just have to wait and find out,” is your unruffled response.

Chuckling under his breath, he unlocks his door and lets it swing open wide. It’s dark inside, faint moonlight shining through the small window above his desk. Coupled with the sconces out in the hallway, however, there is enough light for him to stumble to his bedside without stubbing a single toe. He doesn’t bother to close the door on you; he has nothing to hide.

Kaeya knows what his quarters must look like to a stranger. They’re a mess, as if someone had searched them in a haste and not bothered to clean up afterward. The walls are bare, save for a map of Mondstadt that he’d hung up ages ago. Tomes of all sizes and loose leaves of parchment litter his oak desk, pushed up against a wall. A quill lies abandoned atop a half-finished note with ink drying on its nib. His closet door is cracked open, a discarded boot dissuading anyone from forcing it shut.

Yes, his quarters are a mess. But he knows exactly where everything is. Should someone actually attempt to search his things, he would know immediately. Not that they would find anything particularly damning. He isn’t foolish enough to leave important documents or sensitive information lying about—nothing he is unwilling to part with, anyway.

“Horrifying, but unsurprising,” he hears you mutter to yourself.

Kaeya doesn’t even consider slipping out of his ruined clothes or engaging you in further conversation. Now that he has made it back to his quarters, all he can think about is the sweet embrace of sleep. He sinks into his unmade bed, draping an arm over his face.

You continue to linger in the doorway. “You should change before you fall asleep.”

“Mhm.”

“You'll regret not doing so in the morning.”

“Uh-huh.” He still doesn’t move.

“Alberich. You stink of booze.”

“You sure know how to compliment a guy, Captain. I’m impressed.”

You sigh, long and loud. He waits to hear the door close behind you, only for you to walk up to his bedside. Your steps are slow, hesitant yet purposeful. He stiffens, immediately on-guard, but fights his instincts in order to remain still. What are you planning?

He feels you grip his boot. Metal jingles as you undo the buckle. Then you pry it off.

He lifts his arm to peer up at you. “What are you doing?”

“What does it look like?” You set his boot on the ground, then move on to the other one. “If you won’t change, you should at least take off your shoes. You’ll dirty your sheets otherwise.”

Oh, you make it so easy for him to twist everything you say into an innuendo. For once he resists the urge. “You forgot something,” he says instead. He wiggles his sock-clad foot at you. Just to see if you will do it.

You grimace, swatting his leg away. “Absolutely not. I don’t want to be anywhere near those.”

So you say. But you’re taking his boots off for him out of your own volition. There is no need for you to do any of this. It’s not your duty to stop him from drinking himself into a stupor, or walk him back to headquarters unharmed, or all but tuck him into bed. Yet here you are.

What is it that you want? There have been plenty of opportunities for you to try and take advantage of his drunken state, but you have sidestepped every one. Frustration brews in his sternum.

“Do you do this for everyone who you hate?” he finds himself asking, tone purposely lighthearted.

You pause in your ministrations to stare at him. “What? I don't hate you.” At his disbelieving look, you insist, “I don’t. You have always been a pain to deal with, sure, but I never once felt that way.”

He smiles, unconvinced. “Not even when I insulted your dear old captain?”

“Insulted my... That was months ago, when we first met.” Despite your bewilderment, you take a moment to contemplate his question. “I was upset with you, yes. But now that I’ve had this position for some time...maybe your assessment wasn’t off. When I was lieutenant, I didn’t always see eye-to-eye with my captain. They were too set in their ways and scorned most criticism. I respected them, and still do, but I shouldn’t be ignorant of their faults.”

Your gaze meets his once more. “In a way, what you said that day led me to realize that. You weren’t badmouthing my captain; you didn’t have a vendetta or want to get a rise out of me. At least, I don’t think you did. You must have legitimate issues with their leadership, as a captain yourself.”

He watches you shrewdly. Your tone was even, your expression clear. He cannot detect any deception from you. Of course, that means little. Still, perhaps you’re telling the truth. Perhaps you don’t hate him after all.

A headache, newly formed, pounds at his temple. If he were more sober, he would be better equipped to handle such a revelation. He’ll have to come to a proper conclusion later.

You fiddle with the buckle on his remaining boot. “And what about you?”

“Hmm? What about me?”

“You have ample reason to look down on me. Most of the knights know that you aren’t just Cavalry Captain and Quartermaster. Your role is more important than that. Surely you would make a better...” you trail off, your jaw working silently.

Kaeya knows how that sentence ends. Surely you would make a better Captain of the Intelligence Team than me. It doesn’t come as a surprise.

Up until now, he thought he knew you well. You made it no secret you loathed him. You have never said so explicitly, but he has a talent for reading people. It’s a classic case of envy. He has seen it many times before. You compare yourself to him and find yourself wanting. It colours the way you interact with him; your words brusque, your gaze narrowed.

Not only did he insult your captain, but you consider him more capable than you. Your hatred makes sense. It’s predictable.

Or so he believed, until tonight.

“You know what, never mind. Forget I asked.” Uh-oh. Seems he took too long to respond. You busy yourself with unbuckling his boot, avoiding his eye.

If he were to be honest, there are many ways he could answer you. He thinks you are a better captain than your superior could ever hope to have been. He thinks you are a leader capable of inspiring undying loyalty in your officers. He thinks you have a deep, unflinching love for Mondstadt and its people. He thinks you constantly push yourself to greater heights, to the point it lights a fire in him as well.

He admits to none of those things, in the end.

“Give yourself some credit, Captain,” he murmurs. You glance over in surprise. He meets your gaze. For perhaps the first time in a while, he hopes his words sound sincere—not because he doesn’t mean them, but because he does. “I know the officers under your supervision think you’re a good leader. They wouldn’t want anyone else to take your place.” Certainly not someone like me.

Instead of reassuring you, however, his answer seems to do the opposite. You look frustrated. “That isn’t what I...” you trail off. You search his features, silent, before your brow furrows. “I can’t tell if you mean what you just said. Sometimes I’m not sure I ever can.”

He takes care not to allow his features to visibly harden. Of course you would doubt him, the one time he tries to be honest with you. What else did he expect? Maybe you don't hate him, maybe you never have, but that means little. You won’t ever fully trust him. To be fair, the feeling is mutual.

His mouth tastes unbearably bitter. It must be the wine.

“At this point, I’m willing to say just about anything if it’ll mean I can get some shut-eye.” He feels no satisfaction upon seeing your shoulders stiffen. He still manages to grin. “Well, Captain? Any other requests?”

“No,” you say. Then you tug off his boot with a brisk motion.

He stifles a yelp. “Hey, now! No need to be so rough.”

“My sincere apologies.” You set the boot down next to his other one, your lips thinned. “I should go. Wouldn’t want you to lose more sleep than you already have. You have a long day ahead of you tomorrow, after all.”

Talk about vindictive. Despite his irritation, he has to fight a smile. Knowing you, you’ll see it and take it the wrong way, as you usually do.

Having finished removing his boots, you turn and walk for the door without another word.

He’s struck with the odd urge to stop you. To reach out, take your hand in his, and tug you back. Not because he wants something from you, or needs to tell you something. He wishes you would stay a little longer, that’s all. Wants the silence to be filled by your voice instead of his thoughts.

Now he knows he’s had too much to drink. He’s contemplating such ridiculous things.

Before his addled mind can catch up and he can say something, apologize perhaps, you shut the door behind you. Your footsteps travel down the hallway, slightly hurried. The door to your quarters creaks open then closed.

He’s too late. It’s for the best.

Kaeya lies back and stares up at the ceiling. His vision swims, as if he’s adrift at sea. Closing his eye only makes it worse.

His mind pores over the events of the day. Investigating Eroch, remembering Master Crepus and Diluc, visiting the tavern, running into you. He feels restless, pulled in several directions at once.

With a harsh exhale, he rises to his feet and locks his door. Then he begins his nightly ritual.

His pauldron is first to go. It hits the floor with a dull noise. Then he peels off his gloves and tosses them on the desk. The burns on his hands have long since healed, but he still deals with numbness now and then. Not many know they even exist; he doesn’t want anyone taking advantage of a potential weakness. His eyepatch follows closely after.

He removes the Cryo Vision from his belt last. He stares at it, its blue glow washing over his scarred palm and turning his skin a sickly brown hue. If it’s been a year since Master Crepus’s death, it has been about a year since he was gifted a Vision as well. The sight of it has been a hard reminder ever since. Of how he’d won a difficult battle. Of how he’d finally revealed the truth. Of how he can never speak it again.

He tucks the Vision under his pillow, then collapses back into bed. An odd sensation fills him, as it does every time he completes this ritual. It’s like he has taken off every scrap of armour he has and foolishly exposed himself to danger, despite being alone in the stillness of his quarters.

Ignoring the uncomfortable feeling, he closes his eyes and waits for sleep to take him under.

It never does.

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Seventeen

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: 70% of this fic is written on my phone lying on my side in bed while using swipe typing bc im too lazy to type out words and it shows

TW: discussion of SA

***

Nesta has an easier time adjusting to a third person in the cabin than she thought she would. Maybe it’s because Azriel indeed minds his business, and half the time Nesta isn’t aware he’s there at all.

Cassian seems to be more irritated by it than anyone else—not his brother, of course, but the fact that he and Nesta no longer exist in their own little bubble. Which is how he ends up at Nesta’s apartment with an overnight bag, sprawled out stomach-down on her mattress while she gets ready for bed.

“TV show or movie?” he asks, clicking through her laptop. Shows are Nesta’s thing and movies are Cassian’s; she feels generous enough tonight to say, “Movie.”

“Thank god,” he mutters, typing something on the laptop. “There’s a Turkish horror flick that I was saving for you.”

“Where do you even find these films?” Grabbing her hairbrush, she flops onto the bed beside him and starts brushing out her brassy locks. Before he can answer, Nesta’s phone buzzes from the stool she uses as a bedside table. Feyre’s name flashes on the screen.

Nesta frowns, but picks up without a second thought. “What is it?”

“Nothing serious,” her sister replies. “Just checking in.”

Before Cassian, Nesta didn’t very much understand the purpose of “checking in” without reason. Now she empathizes with Feyre a little. “I’m fine,” she says.

Deciding she can do better than that, she adds, “Cassian and I are about to start a movie.”

“Is it his choice? I’m so sorry for you.”

Nesta peeks over to where Cassian is still intently searching for his obscure movie and smiles a little. “I like Turkish horror,” she replies.

Cassian overhears and grins approvingly.

“Well, I’m looking at wedding dresses with Rhys so he can prepare for when he inevitably proposes,” Feyre says. “In case you wanted to know.”

Nesta did not particularly want to know, but she doesn’t say this. “Sounds fun. Is that it?”

“For what?”

“This conversation.”

Feyre sighs over the line. “Yes, I’ll let you go now. Thanks for picking up.”

The bar is in hell, Nesta thinks. Mostly because she put it there, but she still feels embarrassed to be congratulated over such small things. “Thanks for keeping it short.”

She’s about to hang up when she hears a male voice speak up in the background, and Feyre interrupts, “Wait—before you go, can you tell Cassian to call Rhys back? He wants Cass’s help picking a new team leader for the Italy project.”

Nesta has no idea what that is, but she says, “Sure, fine.” They say their goodbyes and hang up.

“What’d she want?” Cassian says without looking over at her.

“She said Rhys wants you to call him about the Italy project.”

Cassian turns toward her, half sitting up. “Really? What for?”

“Something about picking a team leader.” She returns to brushing her hair. “Why? What’s the Italy project?”

“Something I thought we put aside for good,” he grumbles. “It’s a year-long overseas project in Milan. Rhys thinks it’s gonna bring in a shit ton of money.”

“Sounds big. What do you have to do with it, though?” She’s never heard of Cassian being involved in Night Court’s international operations, even though he takes on more work than the usual employee.

Cassian shrugs, going back to movie searching. “He wanted me to be the one leading the team, and I guess he still feels petty about me turning him down. Honestly, choosing team leaders outside of my department isn’t even part of my jurisdiction.”

Nesta hesitates. “He offered you the job? When?” She didn’t know this.

“On New Year’s.”

“And you turned it down?”

“Yeah.” Cassian clicks on a link that looks like it’ll plant fifteen different viruses in Nesta’s laptop. “Found the movie,” he says.

“Why would you do that?” Nesta demands.

“The movie?”

“The job offer! Why would you turn down such a big opportunity without even telling me?”

Cassian laughs in confusion. “Are you angry right now?”

She’s astonished at his nonchalance. “Cassian,” she says. “It’s Italy.”

Italy with the art and history and seaside beauty—it’s on their top five places to see before they die.

“It’s Milan,” he says like there’s a difference, “and it’s an entire year away from you.” He shakes his head, sitting up to face her. “Are you out of your mind?”

She goes still. “Don’t tell me you said no because of me.”

“Of course I said no because of you.”

“It’s your dream job!” she bursts. “Traveling, exploring, being on your own—”

“Those are our dreams. I made those plans with you. The hell am I supposed to do all the way in Italy without you?”

“You sound codependent,” she retorts.

He narrows his brows. “Like you wouldn’t do the same thing in my position?”

He’s right, of course. Nesta would do the exact same thing for him. But Nesta and Cassian are not the same, and they both know it. “You can’t make that comparison,” she sighs.

“Why not?” he demands.

“Because—” She struggles to put it into words. “I would give up a long distance job for you because it would be worth it. You’re worth it. It doesn’t work the other way around.”

“Again: why the fuck not?”

So he’s really going to make her spell it out. “Because you’re a good boyfriend. You’re affectionate and caring, you always go the extra mile for those you love, and you come with all these free perks. It’s a great deal. And I’m not anything terrible, but I’m the bare minimum compared to you. Why would you give up Italy for the bare minimum?”

Cassian looks at her in disbelief. “I don’t even know how you can say so many wrong things in a row.”

“He’s blinded by love,” Nesta mutters to herself.

“First of all,” he holds up a finger, “I don’t know where you learned to compare yourself to me, but I don’t like it. You make it sound like I need to be paid back for every half-decent thing I do, and that is not the case at all.”

“Of course you think that,” she says. “You wouldn’t be a good person if you didn’t.”

“Then let me be a blunt person.” He puts a hand on her knee and looks her in the eye. “You will never be like me. Very few people are; you can’t take it personally.”

“Oh my god.” Her eyes might roll out of her head.

“But you’re not the bare minimum. Not even close.” He states it like an undeniable fact.

“How so?” she challenges.

“Like how Elain told me about this boy who broke her heart in her high school, and how the next day he walked into class in a leg cast. And how she just knew you had something to do with it, and you two had a huge fight about it that lasted a week.”

Nesta does not enjoy that memory being brought up. Elain called her a psychopath for the incident, and to save her feelings, Nesta (rather unconvincingly) said it had been an accident.

“I didn’t push anybody into a creek,” she maintains the lie. “Sometimes people just fall down there.”

“To be fair, you’re a lot more stable now than you were then. Now when people hurt those you care about, you find sneakier ways to hurt them back. Don’t you?”

“I do not,” Nesta defends.

“Really? Because Eris texted me earlier saying you’ve been ignoring him since New Year’s, and he’s starting to get worried that you have something heinous planned for him. I asked him why he would ever think such a thing of you.” Cassian leans forward and rests his chin on her shoulder. “Why would he think such a thing of you, Nesta?”

Cassian looks pretty well off from here, doesn’t he? She remembers Eris’s smug face. Did you know Rhysand’s parents found him sleeping in the streets?

“Because he said a bad thing,” Nesta says, looking down at her fingernails. “And I have an unfortunate reputation at school for getting back at people who say bad things.” Like the time Brian O’Connell made jokes about a rape trial the class was studying, and then couldn’t find an internship at a single firm the following summer.

“And what did he say? Because I can’t imagine he would directly insult you. He actually likes you, ass that he is.” His face is warm so close to her neck.

She looks away. “I won’t repeat it.”

That seems to be all Cassian needs to get an idea of what Eris said. “And how long are you planning on holding it against him?”

“Forever.”

“That’s what I thought.”

Nesta meets the eyes that haven’t left her face this entire time and snorts. “What’s your point?” Seriously, she’s starting to redden at how close he is.

He buries his face in her neck, his stubble rasping against the sensitive skin there. “The point is that you also do a lot for the people you love. Just in a different way.” He pulls away to look her in the eye. “Don’t do anything to Eris, though,” he says. “Not that I care for him or his shit opinions, but whatever you have planned isn’t worth it.”

Nesta wants to scoff in disbelief at the sincerity on Cassian’s face. He’s always choosing kindness, even at the worst moments. “So that’s your argument?” she says. “You won’t go to Italy because your girlfriend has a bad temper and a taste for revenge?”

“That’s my final argument, Your Honor.” He takes her hand. “Forget Milan, will you? One day I’ll take you to Portofino.”

The longer Nesta knows Cassian, the more she finds it useless to hide from him. Which is why she lets him watch the thoughts flit across her face as she considers his words, deciding whether she believes him. Deciding whether he’s right to give her so much devotion.

“Fine,” she finally says. “You’re right.”

A slow smile spreads across his face as he realizes he won. Wrapping his arms around Nesta’s waist and legs, he hauls her into his lap and shifts around until they’re both comfortable. The movie is forgotten for now.

“Out of curiosity…” He noses at the nape of her neck. “What did Eris say about me to make you so angry?”

When Nesta doesn’t answer, he says, “I’ve already heard everything that could possibly be said. The shit that used to get me when I was eighteen doesn’t have the same hold on me a decade later.”

She lets herself relax into his hold. “It was about the time you spent as an orphan.” Technically, he’s still an orphan, but it was different back then. “I didn’t like the tone of his voice.”

Cassian’s answering hum is a low rumble against her shirt. “Did you know my biological father was from Italy?”

Nesta perks up at that. “No.” She assumed he was entirely Algerian, even though he and Azriel probably look ethnically ambiguous to most. “Isn’t that all the more reason to see Italy someday?”

“Not at all,” he says. “If I could pretend that half of me didn’t exist, I would.”

She can’t think of a response that doesn’t involve a question, so she doesn’t reply. She waits for Cassian to speak on his own terms.

“I went to Italy once,” he admits. “For less than a day while my brothers were partying in Monte Carlo. I was young and stupid, and thought I would never be complete if I didn’t know who my father was.”

“Who was he?” She doesn’t know why she’s whispering.

“No one worth remembering,” Cassian says, his arms unconsciously tightening around her. “I put some dots together and realized how he and my mother must have met, how he must’ve—forced himself on her, and I decided that I didn’t care about bloodlines at all. I never returned to Italy after that.”

Nesta’s hands want to reach out and touch him, soothe him. But her muscles are suddenly very cold, and she can only stiffen. “And what about now? Do you… not want to go back?”

“It’s just a place to me,” he says. “Nothing special, nothing terrible. But I like the way it sounds when you talk about it.” His eyes sparkle. “I’d like to pretend it’s my first time going with you.”

“Alright, then.” She nods. “One day, we’ll go together. It’ll be our first time.”

***

Cassian refuses to let Nesta leave bed the next morning, dragging his heavy mouth across her body whenever she tries to get up. She’s about to surrender to him altogether when her phone starts vibrating loudly, insistently.

Breaking away from Cassian’s attempt at cuddling, she answers without checking the caller ID. “Yes?” she croaks sleepily.

“Where the hell have you been?” Emerie demands.

Nesta shoves Cassian away despite his protests, untangling her legs from the sheets. “At home,” she says, getting out of bed and heading for the bathroom. “Am I supposed to be somewhere else?”

“We haven’t seen you in two weeks,” Emerie says. “Gwyn thought your boyfriend’s weird family killed you.”

“That’s not what happened,” Nesta assures, pulling her shorts down and sitting on the toilet. “I just needed some alone time.” People are all around her these days, it seems. Her body still can’t quite adjust to it.

“Well, have you had enough—are you peeing?”

“Yeah.” She wipes and flushes the toilet.

“Well, clear your day and kick your sorry boyfriend out of your place. I can’t remember the last time I went out.”

“Why does everybody always want to go out?” Nesta says as she washes her hands. “What’s wrong with staying in, being safe, never leaving the house?” She dries her hands on a towel and returns to the bedroom, where Cassian is now sitting up and checking his emails.

“You’re preaching to the choir, but this actually wasn’t my idea,” Emerie says.

Nesta and Cassian alert at the sound of a knock from the front door. Nesta never has uninvited guests.

“Hold on a second, Em,” she says, jogging up the short set of steps to the door. She opens it to the sight of an exasperated-looking Gwyn.

“Jeez, next time send a text that you’re alive, will you?” Gwyn says, shoving past Nesta to enter the apartment. “Do you know how worried I’ve been—” She halts midsentence, one foot hovering above a step as she realizes that Nesta isn’t alone. As she sees Cassian in her bed, bare-chested and highly amused.

“Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting.

Gwyn pales.

“Hello?” Emerie calls over the line.

“You girls both share the same brain,” Nesta sighs. “Let me call you back, Emerie.”

Gwyn whirls around just as Nesta hangs up. “That won’t be necessary,” she says quickly, looking embarrassed. “I’ll be outside. I’m sorry.”

She hurries out of the apartment even faster than she came in, ducking her head to hide her face.

Nesta tosses her arms up in the air. “Great,” she says to Cassian. “Your abs scared her away.”

“But I didn’t do anything—”

She shuts the door behind her as she follows Gwyn outside, barefoot and all. She barely notices the freezing cold air or the awful press of damp grass beneath her feet as she catches up to Gwyn and grabs her elbow. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Gwyn jerks suddenly, yanking out of Nesta’s hold. Her breathing seems a little shallow, and she looks even more embarrassed for it. “It’s nothing. I just didn’t know you had someone over.”

“Cassian? He’s cool, you don’t need to be weird about him,” she tries to reassure Gwyn. “Though I did use to tell him that not everybody wants to see him shirtless all the time.”

“It’s not that,” Gwyn says, waving her off.

Nesta gestures to the apartment. “Do you want to come back inside, then? I’m sure he has clothes on by now.”

Gwyn clears her throat uncomfortably and looks down. “I’d rather not. I’m—I don’t like being around men.”

Nesta pauses, not sure if she heard right. “Like, in a ‘check the backseat of your car before getting in’ way, or…?”

“No, like I can’t be alone in a room with a man without feeling sick. It activates my fight or flight, it’s weird.” She’s carefully stiff, like she’s ready to be met with humiliation.

Nesta remembers that Gwyn has never told her about her therapy sessions before, but she knows they’re more intensive than her own weekly conversations with Lana.

“Not that I think your boyfriend is a bad person,” Gwyn adds when Nesta doesn’t respond. “He looks really nice. He sounds nice, too.”

But Nesta doesn’t care about any of that. Unsure of what to do next, she reaches out and awkwardly pats Gwyn on the arm. “Good thing you’ve never been to the cabin, then. Cassian’s brother is staying…” She trails off when she realizes none of this is relevant. “Why are you here so early?” she asks instead.

Gwyn eases up a little at the change in subject. “I missed you. We’ve barely talked since Christmas.”

Nesta didn’t realize people would take such notice to her absence. “Yeah.” She flushes. “I do that sometimes. I’ll send a message next time I go into hibernation, though.”

“You’re freezing,” Gwyn suddenly scolds, noticing how Nesta’s goosebumped arms are wrapped tightly around herself. She unzips her red hoodie and shrugs it off. “Go back inside and get dressed.” She flings the hoodie around Nesta’s shoulders before Nesta can protest. “Meet me at my car. We’re hanging out.”

Nesta knows that a last minute change of events is not the end of the world, even if it sometimes feels like it. For Gwyn and Emerie, she can bear the discomfort of unexpected plans, same as she does for Cassian. But she at least has to know: “How long will we be out?”

“You can come home after lunch.” At Nesta’s face, Gwyn adds, “Lunch will be at two and shouldn’t take more than an hour.”

Looking her friend up and down, someone who has such an easy time understanding her, Nesta nods in satisfaction. She turns around to go back inside.

***

They end up at the library where Gwyn works, in the stacks of the long-abandoned encyclopedia section.

Emerie takes a loud sip from the huge McDonald’s soda she snuck in. “So all this show was because Gwyn didn’t want to work her shift alone?”

“I just have some last minute cleanup to do,” she hisses for the third time, shoving an old book back where it belongs. “Go to the porn section if you’re so bored here.”

“Oh, I definitely will,” Emerie says. “But I’m glad that we’re congregating now, even if it’s in the most depressing part of the library. I have a present for you girls.” She hands Nesta her drink so she can dig around in her purse.

Nesta personally has no complaints. The library is quiet, it smells of paper and old ink, and it holds all her favorite books. It’s almost better than staying in.

Emerie successfully pulls out a handful of folded and wrinkled papers from her bag, smoothing them out as best she can. “One for each of us,” she says, passing the papers around.

Nesta takes her paper and stares at the header. Gwyn is the first to speak. “Pole dancing classes?”

“Why?” Nesta says.

“Well, I originally offered them to Justinian and Isaac but they said no—”

“It’s really not for me,” Gwyn interrupts, trying to pass the registration form back to Emerie. “Sorry.”

Nesta doesn’t give her form back.

“Look,” Emerie says. “I get the hesitation. We’re a handful of boring bitches who hate having fun. But don’t you think that has to change at some point?”

“I’ve known you guys a month,” Gwyn retorts. “We’ve only been boring bitches for a month. This is too much.” She turns to Nesta for help.

Nesta is still staring at the paper. Dancing—on a pole, yes, but it’s still dancing. “I’ll do it,” she says.

Gwyn looks betrayed and Emerie looks elated. “Really?” She hops up and down. “That’s two against one, Gwyn. You have to do it, too.”

Gwyn’s cheeks are turning red in frustration. “You can’t just force this on me—”

“Gwyneth,” a sharp voice interrupts their conversation. Nesta spins around to find a young woman with dark skin and bleached white curls heading in their direction, a stack of books in her arms.

She halts before Nesta and glares. “No food or drink in the library.” She looks pointedly at the 32-ounce in her hand.

“It’s not mine.” Nesta shoves the drink back to Emerie.

But the librarian has turned to Gwyn, who hides the dance class form behind her back. “And what are you doing here?” she demands.

“Just putting up a few books, Merrill,” Gwyn answers quickly.

“While socializing?” the woman named Merrill sneers.

“We were just asking for help finding the romance section. Is that a problem?” Emerie crosses her arms and steps forward, letting a little of her beautiful deadliness slip into her stance. It’s the deadliness of someone at the top of her law class, someone who will graduate in a few months with all the power she could want in the palm of her hand. Nesta gets a rush from playing the lawyer game, too, but she’s never had the kind of ambition that Emerie has. Emerie is a shark sitting around in a small pond.

Merrill is not impressed. She snatches the styrofoam cup dangling from Emerie’s hand and tosses it in the nearby trash can. She turns back to Gwyn. “Hand your badge over and clock out.”

“But I’m not done yet—”

“Now.”

“Okay,” she squeaks. She pulls her ID badge off her neck and hands it to Merrill.

Nesta gapes in disbelief. Before she can speak up, Merrill says, “No loitering in the library. If you don’t have anything you need to check out, leave.” With one final judgmental look, she turns down an aisle of dusty books and disappears.

Gwyn makes a face at her back.

“That woman is not old enough to be acting that misanthropic,” Emerie says after Merrill is gone.

“Whatever,” Gwyn mutters. The registration form is still in her hand. She crumples it into a ball and throws it into the trash. “Let’s get out of here.”

Nesta stares at the trash as Gwyn turns to leave. “Coward,” she says.

Gwyn’s head snaps toward Nesta, her auburn hair swinging. “Excuse me?”

She shrugs. “You heard me.” Emerie’s eyes bounce back and forth between the girls.

“I did,” Gwyn says. “I was just making sure this wasn’t coming from the woman who would sooner bite someone’s head off than do something she doesn’t want to.”

“Girls,” Emerie snaps before Nesta can bite back. “It’s just a stupid dance class. I thought it would be fun to do together, but it doesn’t matter anymore.” Taking Gwyn by one arm and Nesta by the other, she starts steering them out of the stacks like a stern mother. “Now let’s go eat. I’m fucking hungry.”

Gwyn’s mood from the library doesn’t recover, even as they sit down for lunch at the local diner. Nesta thinks Gwyn might actually be sick when the male waiter winks at her while taking her order, and it’s not until long after he’s gone that color returns to her face. When their food arrives, Gwyn only picks at her plate.

“What’s wrong?” Nesta finally has to ask bluntly. “You look pukey.” Did the coward comment affect Gwyn more than she let on, or was it Merrill’s attitude that threw her off?

At Nesta’s words, Gwyn becomes even more pallid. “I just don’t feel great today,” she murmurs, looking around like she’s seeking a way out of the diner. “Sorry guys, I didn’t mean to be such a buzzkill. Maybe I should go home early.”

“Absolutely not,” Emerie says. “If you’re going home, we’re going home with you.”

Gwyn bites her lip, trying to decide if she wants that or not. But something about her antsy demeanor is too familiar to Nesta, because she says, “If you really want to be alone, do you mind driving me home first? Emerie’s car is a mess.”

“You just need to move around a few papers,” Emerie protests.

But Gwyn nods distractedly, already gathering her things. “Sure, no problem.” They pay the bill and go their separate ways.

During the ride home, the sky that’s been gray all day finally breaks open, unleashing a spattering of rain over the town. Nesta watches it sprinkle while Gwyn drives in silence.

“Why are you scared of Merrill?” she eventually asks. “She doesn’t look much older than you.”

Gwyn snorts, but there isn’t much heart to it. “Merrill is my superior, but I can handle her on most days.”

“Just not today?”

Gwyn eyes Nesta warily from the corner of her eye. “No, not today. Or this week.”

Nesta chooses not to push. The dull metal of the cars surrounding them glints under the rain, and they arrive at a red light.

After a minute, she takes a breath and blurts, “I’m not always like that around guys, you know.”

Nesta watches her closely, remembering how ghostly she seemed around Cassian, then the waiter. “Keep going.”

Gwyn stares straight at the traffic ahead, her fingers turning bone white on the steering wheel. “I’m just going through a hard period. Everything upsets me and I don’t know how to think straight. It’s like my brain accidentally traveled to the past and now it’s stuck there.” She sounds shaky, breathless, and it makes Nesta wonder what exactly her mind is experiencing.

Nesta knows what it’s like to be unable to move on. Her own brain has only recently started looking toward the future. “Where are you stuck, specifically?” she asks hesitantly. Maybe she can help Gwyn navigate her way out.

Gwyn’s chin quivers. “In a dark room.” Her lips form a tight line. “Being held down. I’m outnumbered.”

Nesta’s stomach turns. “How far back is it?”

“Two years,” Gwyn whispers. “Lately I can’t even look at anything without—remembering it. Thinking about it. Every time I feel like I’m moving past it, I end up being wrong.”

The light turns green, and Nesta puts a hand on Gwyn’s knee in an attempt to ground her. “Drive,” she commands softly.

Gwyn presses down on the accelerator, but Nesta can feel her leg trembling beneath her hand. She squeezes her knee hard. Even with the dark parts of her own past, Nesta has never felt what Gwyn is feeling right now. So she tries to stick to what she knows.

“It’s like you said,” she says carefully. “You’re going through a period where your brain isn’t being friendly to you. It’s horrible, but you can live with the knowledge that it’ll be over eventually.”

Gwyn shakes her head, holding back tears. “It doesn’t work like that. Once it goes away, it’ll just come back again. And it’ll be like that for the rest of my life.”

“You’re right.” Nesta doesn’t have a solution for that, and she hates it. “You’ll never forget. You can be at the peak of your life and still remember all of it. But,” she says slowly, “whether you reach a point where it barely fazes you, or if you keep crippling under the weight of it decades later, you’ll still be normal. You’ll be a perfectly normal human.”

Gwyn lets out a tearful laugh at that. “What does that even mean?”

Shit. “It means…” Nesta tries to explain herself better. “In case you’re worried that there’s something very wrong with you, I’m here telling you that there’s not. There will never be anything wrong with you.”

Gwyn eyes her skeptically as they turn onto a residential road. “Even if I never get past one nightmare I lived years ago? Even if that nightmare defines me until the day I die?”

“That won’t happen.” Nesta’s tone is simple, factual. “But yes, even then.”

“Really? You’re not gonna tell me to live for the better days or whatever?”

“Does that sound like something that would help you? Because I can say it if it does.”

Gwyn snorts. “No.” But her limbs are steady and her eyes are clear on the road. She clears her throat. “Thank you for listening. I think I might feel a little better now.”

“Was it because of what I said?” Nesta tries not to be too hopeful.

“I wouldn’t give you that much credit,” Gwyn says, crushing her hope. “But I’m glad I told you. It makes things…a lot easier for me.” She exhales deeply.

“You know my plate is mostly empty these days.” Nesta pats her knee. “That means I’ll always have room to help carry your shit.”

They pull up to Nesta’s apartment, and Gwyn parks at the curb. “Give me your dance class thing,” she says suddenly.

Frowning, Nesta pulls the wrinkled paper out of her purse and hands it to Gwyn.

Gwyn smooths it out on the steering wheel and grabs a pen from a cupholder, clicking it. “If you’re going to help carry my shit, I guess I have time for pole dancing now.”

“But that’s mine,” Nesta protests as Gwyn starts filling out the form.

“It can be both of ours,” she says, writing Nesta’s name under hers.

“Really?” Nesta grins with an excitement that she doesn’t easily feel. “You’re going to do it with us?”

“Why would I let you do it without me? So I can become the third wheel in our girl group?” She gives Nesta a look that says No way in hell.

Nesta rolls her eyes. “That would never happen to you.”

“Sure,” Gwyn drawls. She finishes the form and folds it in half before pocketing it. “I’ll give this to Emerie as a gift.” She leans over to peck Nesta on the cheek. “Now get home. Love you.”

Nesta turns red at the words and coughs. “Thanks for the ride,” she responds, getting out of the car.

“Say it back!” Gwyn calls after her. But Nesta shuts the door in her face and waves, pretending she can’t hear her. Gwyn mock-scowls at her through the window, but lets her off easy and drives away.

That’s enough feelings for today, Nesta decides. Even if her chest is swelling with emotion for her friend. It’s a sweet hurt that lingers long after she returns to her empty apartment.

***

a/n: i’m back in my no plot, just vibes era

taglist: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes

[schweidens]

Mammon NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Mammon’s a softie - he definitely wants his partner to feel comfortable after sex and he’ll cater to their needs

Honestly, he hasn’t had much experience with a long term partner, so he isn’t super familiar with the concept of aftercare. But worry not, he’s quick to learn. He’ll prioritise cleaning you off and offer to run you a hot bath and remove the sheets, and tend to any wounds you might’ve sustained if the two of you were extra freaky that night

Once all that is done, he’ll dive right back in bed with you, peppering you with kisses and cuddling you till the next morning

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Mammon loves his abs - he’s worked hard for it and he knows that they look good. He’ll get particularly blushy if you comment on how muscular and toned they are

You hands are his favourite body part of yours. Not only does he love them when they’re wrapped around his hard cock or when they’re pulling his hair and marking his back, he also just cherishes how your hands touch him so delicately; how your fingers lightly brushes upon his at any given chance, and how your hands just fit in his so perfectly

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He has a really big load and his cum is extremely thick and creamy. It’s slightly bitter but you still swallow every timr

Mammon loves cumming all over your face. As the avatar of pride, it’s no surprise that he receives pleasure in marking you. Seeing you with his load all over your face allows Mammon to relish in the face that you’re his and only his

He’s also a big fan of cumming inside. Mammon loves how you trust him enough to let him fill you up, and just the thought of you filled up to the brim with his cum gets him going for another round

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

The two of you attempted to fuck in Lucifer’s room once while he was off meeting Diavolo. Unfortunately, Lucifer returned sooner than expected, and almost caught you in the middle of the act. Mammon got a beating and a lecture, and you were given a disappointed sigh

He’s also too scared to admit that he’s very much into sensory deprivation. Mammon loves the thought of being tied up, blindfolded, and a gag in his mouth, with a plug up his ass and a vibe on his cock

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s a demon, and having lived for thousands of years before, he knows what’s he’s doing

Mammon has had his fair share of sexual encounters with witches and succubi and his body count is definitely high

That being said, he knows how things work and he knows how to please. You cum every single time you have sex with him

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Mammon’s a big fan of cowgirl, he finds it so unbelievably hot to see you bouncing on his cock on top of him, with full view of your face and your tits. He also loves it when you’re in control, and this position grants you that

He also loves missionary because again, he loves seeing your face when you have sex. He could cum just from looking at your lewd expressions. Missionary also allows him to me a tad more romantic and intimate, so when you’re having a more vanilla session, Mammon can hold your hand while the two of you are chest to chest as he thrusts into you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s occasionally goofy. Cracks a joke here and there so the two of you can laugh while you hold a lighthearted conversation as you fuck

However, if the two of you are having jealous, rough sex or passionate, intimate sex, Mammon prefers to remain more serious in the moment and focus on pleasuring the two of you

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He does take care of his pubes but it isn’t like he’s completely shaved clean down there. Trims it occasionally so there isn’t a bush, and is overall pretty well groomed. He doesn’t really have much of an opinion on it, so if you want him to grow it out or shave it all off, he’ll do it

The carpet most definitely matches the drapes. Yup, white pubic hair

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

We all know that Mammon’s a touchstarved baby — years and years of taunts and insults from his brother really does damage, so it would only make sense that he would crave loving, intimate sex

Lots of sensual kissing, murmurs of i-love-yous, handholding, and praises thrown here and there. Passionate fucking and slow thrusts till the two of your both cum together

He’s a romantic boy deep down. If you were to ever surprise him with candles and roses and lingerie he’d break down in tears

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Mammon jerked off a lot more before the two of you got together. He feels extremely guilty for doing so. But he can’t help thinking about your pretty face when he’s stroking his cock. Almost always ends up pulling out his DDD to look at a picture of you while he’s masturbating

He doesn’t really masturbate that much anymore after getting together, with an exception of mutual masturbation, which he thoroughly enjoys. He finds it so hot to jerk off while watching you touch yourself right in front of him

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Praise. Be sure to tell him how well he’s fucking you, how good his cock feels, how much you love him.

Mammon also loves overstimulation — jerk him off while pegging him and he’ll become a sobbing mess. He’s also a fan of over stimulating you, and will aim to make you cum multiple times during foreplay

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

The two of you have had sex in virtually every spot in his room. Across the pool table, in the car, on his bed, you name it. Mammon’s a bit more traditional, he loves doing it on the bed the most. No risks of banging his head on the car window or whacking your shin on the side of the pool table

Outside of his room, he’s also done it in numerous locations in the House of Lamentation. His personal favourite is the planetarium, since the two of you almost got caught by Satan while doing it in the library

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

A simple touch on certain sensitive spots can easily turn Mammon into a flustered, blushing mess. Run your hand up his thighs or give his butt a firm grab and he’s already semi hard

Dirty talk can easily get him going. Whisper a few lewd sentences into his ear and he’s instantly turned on. He’s also easily motivated by sexts and nudes, and will reciprocate the favour by sending back a nude of his own

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Mammon is not into being degraded. He’s already experienced enough with his brothers’ constant insults so insulting him bed would be an instant turn off.

He’s also not a fan of anything that involves pain. He doesn’t want to see you hurting because of him, no matter if you ask him to

Mammon’s also not into the idea of threesomes. He doesn’t want to share his partner, plain and simple.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He’s a huge fan of both. Loves to feel his cock in your mouth, with your tongue swirling around his tip, and always comes extra quickly when receiving a blowjob

Mammon loves how you taste and indulges himself in eating you out. He won’t hesitate to ask you to ride his face, and his tongue is skilful enough to make you cum a couple times during foreplay

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It really depends on the situation. If he’s feeling particularly emotional or romantic that day, he prefers to do it slow and sensual with maximum intimacy between the two of you

On special occasions — such as your first time, your anniversary, your birthday — Mammon will usually opt to keep the pace slow and sensual

If he’s jealous or angry, he will not hesitate to be rough. Expect him to be thrusting into you at a rapid speed with occasional spanks here and there. He’ll also go rough if you ask him to

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Mammon’s not the biggest fan of quickies since he wants to be able to enjoy being intimate with you without a time constraint

However, if he’s particularly frustrated or horny, he won’t hesitate to pull you in a spare closet for a couple of minutes to have a quickie

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Mammon’s always up to experiment with different kinks, as long as they’re not outrageously weird. He’ll try almost anything once, especially if it’s something you’re into

He’s not one for risks, usually, with an exception of public sex. The idea of being caught excites him, so he’s more than willing to fuck you in a semi public area

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He’s a demon, so it’s obvious that his stamina exceeds those of humans. Mammon can go for a good five rounds, given that there are small breaks in between to let him get down from his high first

Since his stamina is considerably better than yours, he’ll usually let you decide how many rounds you’ll be having

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Mammon himself doesn’t own any toys. Poor boy is too embarrassed to walk into a sex shop himself, and doesn’t dare ordering them via Akuzon in case Levi accidentally finds them.

However, he’s more than open to experiment with sex toys with you. Mammon loves using a vibrator on you, and also loves when you use it on him. He’s also open to you using a strap-on on him. Once he gets over the initial embarrassment, he’ll be more than willing for you to peg him

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

If you’re having jealous sex or angry sex, Mammon does not hold back on the teasing. He’ll fuck you senseless till you’re approaching your climax, and then stop completely. Mammon will edge you multiple times until you’re on your knees begging for his cock

However, he’s usually weak to you and he’ll easily give in to you pleas for him to fuck you

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Mammon’s shy and ultimately always tries to hide his moans but it never turns out that way. He’ll try to bury his face in your neck to mask out his lewd sounds to no avail

Over time, he becomes extremely vocal during sex, unafraid of voicing out how good it feels to have his cock ramming through your sopping heat

He mostly lets out low, breathy moans and groans, but when you’re dimming him, he’ll release the prettiest, high-pitches whines you’ll ever hear

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Mammon once decided to use ‘Lucifer’ as his safeword. It obviously worked and instantly turned the both of you off, but it was difficult to even look at Lucifer in the eye in the passing week

He’s a huge fan of lingerie and will not hesitate to use his precious Goldie in order to buy you more expensive pieces. They turn him on to no end, especially black, lacy lingerie

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Mammon’s quite big, at 8.5 inches erect. His cock is nice and girthy, particularly thick around the middle. There’s a bulgy vein down the side that rubs your walls oh so perfectly every time he thrusts into you. All in all, he has the perfect dick

Mammon also has a bubble butt, and he loves it when you smack the globes of his ass. Instant turn on.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Mammon doesn’t like admitting it, but he has an extremely high libido. He’ll be more than willing to fuck you multiple times a day, and he cannot go three days without having sex with you

Sex with Mammon is pretty routinely and occurs several times a week, or even more if you’ve been purposely teasing him throughout the day

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

He gets pretty sleeping after cumming, but he makes sure to never fall asleep before you. Mammon will make sure that he’s done aftercare properly before sliding into bed beside you and holding you close till he falls asleep

It brings him joy to be able to fall asleep with you in his arms after sex, and he loves the sheer intimacy of it all

[nanaminokanojo]

Play the Game | Nanami Kento X You | Part 1/8

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, NANAMI!! 🎂

CHARACTERS: Nanami Kento X You (fem!reader | PLEASE READ THE NOTES BELOW*) | Gojo Satoru | Geto Suguru | Shoko Ieiri | Utahime Iori | other JJK Characters CHAPTER COUNT: 1/8 WORD COUNT: 5,000+ GENRE: romance | fluff | slight angst | eventual smut | ooc depictions | female reader with described appearance* | modern au | rich people au | aged up characters CHAPTER TRIGGER WARNING: profanity | alcohol use | age gap | strong/mature/suggestive language | mentions of bullying, injury SPOILERS: n/a

collection masterlist

one - two - three - four - five - six - seven - eight

"Play the Game" Masterlist

The final road before the bend that led to Gojo Manor stretched before Nanami, signaled by the consistent shield of the ancient cryptomeria trees that lined the road side. The forest was a momentary relief from the glare of the sun reflecting on the windshield of his silver Lexus. Such was the inconvenience of driving in the middle of a bright day when the sun was at its pedestal, making no room for shadows, no reprieve from the heat. He detested it.

A sigh escaped his lips. It’s supposed to be the beginning of autumn, he was thinking for the umpteenth time that day. He would really appreciate it if the Siberian winds would herald the actual beginning of the season. Yes, he thought. That would be nice.

The weather was, nevertheless, the least of his worries, and as he finally made the turn to the incongruously long gravel driveway of the estate, the real cause of his anxiety reared its head to the surface, presaged by the denser shadows of trees and the high gables of the colossal structure that housed the seat of the Gojo clan. It was supposed to be unfounded, his apprehension, or so he tried to convince himself since deciding to make an appearance earlier than expected. He couldn’t keep it at bay anymore when the emotion was mixed with hopeful anticipation. An odd combination, indeed.

He had no choice but to come, or rather, he wanted to come. It was for an important occasion anyway, Gojo Satoru and Utahime Iori’s wedding week specifically. If he was being honest, he wouldn’t miss it for the world. If it was significant to two of the most important people in his life then the same applies where his views on the matter was concerned. After all, he greatly appreciated it that Gojo chose him as his best man, well one of them anyway. The man could never make up his mind if he tried so, breaking the traditional order of things, he has two “best men” – him and Geto Suguru.

Much to the groom-to-be’s disappointment, Nanami initially planned to show up a day before the ceremony itself. It was an added displeasure to the fact that Geto wasn’t going to show up until later that week as he was overseas for work. Gojo still probably was disappointed since Nanami did not exactly say anything about showing up earlier. But when he saw an opening in his jampacked schedule which was rare, he took the opportunity to take time off work. As annoying as Gojo was, he did not deserve to have two absent best men on his wedding week. Besides, a week away from the firm wouldn’t hurt, and he thought it was a good way to unwind before his big case.

If he would be able to unwind anyway.

The man had been sure of how he would manage through the occasion if he only spent a maximum of two days surrounded by crowds which were sure to be invited to the happy celebration. After all, nobody ever expected the young master of the Gojo Clan to ever be serious enough about anyone romantically, much less get married. Now that he had to stay for longer, giving chances to more occurrences of a variety of events, he wasn’t so certain. Anything could happen at Gojo Manor. Anything.

His optimism relied on that fact. Troublesome things usually happened with Gojo and Geto together, throw in the other members of the family and the other clans in the area, but Nanami was betting everything on this week.

A pair of cool, aqua eyes met his dark orbs the moment he stepped into the semi-outdoor ballroom of the opulent house. It was always like instinct, the way Nanami’s senses seem to heighten and hyper focus on one person, all else tuned out and seemingly nonexistent. Like always, without a hitch, he found you.

Alas. If he was questioning the reason for his hopefulness, that wasn’t the case anymore.

There you were, stood on the elevated corner by the refreshments table. You appeared like a celestial being walking among mortals, the halo of silvery white hair shimmering under the sunlight filtering through the room making you seem as if you did not exactly exist in the same realm as everyone else.

You were initially not paying attention to anyone despite your cousin, Miwa, chatting away beside you. But then, you leaned towards the latter when she whispered something, being equally conspiratorial by raising your champagne flute to your mouth. By the looks of it, prior to that, you have long tuned them out, Miwa and her friends, what with your poor attempt at pretending to pay attention. Nanami knew you have mastered the art of doing so since you were a child. It wasn't on purpose, or so you say. You were simply oblivious most of the time or you just didn't care. And you tended to only see and hear what you wanted.

At the moment, he was the object of your attention. He was sure of it, unable to help but to be much too aware of it, nerves pulled to their limits like piano strings conditioned to make sounds at the slightest of touch of its ebony and ivory keys. The feeling he had made you real, existing. He wasn’t imagining at all.

At times, he still could not believe that he watched you grow up to the person you are at present. The first time he knew of your existence was when Gojo invited him and some of their other friends to that very house in middle school. You were just as remarkable as a child as you are as a grown woman, much too quick-witted and eloquent at six even as your nanny carried you astride her hip, looking very much like a female infant version of Gojo. The bright blue eyes you shared with the male shone with the same intelligence he possessed, probably more, even without doing or saying anything. It just emanated from the two of you even if Gojo behaved like an utter idiot at times.

You shifted your line of vision to Miwa who was inconspicuously flailing her hands as a silent and agitated command for the other girls to disperse when she saw Nanami approaching. In a split second, you were alone. Miwa has always been unreasonably fidgety around him but he never quite understood why.

"I seemed to have driven away your company," he said to you the moment he was within earshot, watching you exchange your empty glass for another that's full.

You finally faced him, your scintillating eyes glittering under the wide skylights above. They were fathomless as they were luminous, shining with mischief. It was a familiar sight. From a state of tedium, they seem to come alive at the idea of tormenting him.

"I don't mind."

Of course not. The corners of his mouth curled inconspicuously at that similarity he shared with you. "I seem to always offend that cousin of yours."

"Not really. Frighten is more like it." Your eyes stayed on him even as you drank from your glass.

"Frightened?" Nanami repeated with inflection. He knew Miwa was awkward around him, but it was news that she was afraid of him. He didn’t have anything against her since unlike you, she was actually a sweet girl.

"Well, you have always been purposefully abrasive, you have taken the language of sarcasm to a whole new level and you are a grouch," you told him without batting an eyelash when everyone else was intimidated by him. You were probably the only one who could treat him that way. Not even your brother who is his best friend could do that and mean it.

His planned glance turned into a sidelong stare when he saw how you were eyeing him the same way. The difference was that you had a knowing look about you, evident in the way your eyes shone with diablerie and the contumelious curl at the corners of your luscious lips.

"Is that your opinion of me?" he asked, his expressions remaining stoic. Inside, it was a different story. You are the last being on earth he wanted to view him the way others usually did. He always thought you acted around him differently – defied him, messed with his head (and heart if he was being honest), and annoyed him – because you saw him differently, too. He liked that idea, the feeling it gives him. It was already enough that you are forbidden territory because you are his best friend's little sister. He didn't want you to turn out to be just like everyone else.

You grinned but didn't satisfy his query with a response. It was just like you to keep him guessing that way. You loved your games and especially loved to play them with him. He liked to play along at times, but it gets difficult to keep up with your antics. Your thought process was something he still has to figure out despite years of knowing you.

Seeing that he wasn't getting anywhere by engaging you, he said, "Where's the groom-to-be?"

You pointed at the direction of the wood-framed glass doors leading to the indoor salon where your brother was speaking to one of the organizers for his wedding.

When Nanami followed your line of vision, he found the person in question. On a long table before Gojo were different arrangements of flowers, all in shades of pink, cream and white. Honestly, he saw no difference but Gojo was eyeing them as if choosing the right one will solve global warming.

"Being fussy about the flower arrangements more than his bride, obviously." Shaking his head, he shoved his hands into the pockets of his grey, pinstriped slacks before facing you again. "You think it's a good time to step in?"

At that, you smirked openly. "Wanna play a game, Nanamin?" you asked, appearing and sounding innocent as you addressed him with that nickname you knew he hated.

"Sure," he said without hesitation, knowing well the kind of person you are when you’re refused.

"No protestations this time, I see. You're learning."

He shot you a withering look, pushing his glasses up his nose. "That coming from a childish brat. I won't take offense." He immediately regretted saying that when he saw how your eyes glinted with something sinister. What it was, he didn't know, but he was sure about one thing: he just walked into another one of your traps willingly.

"Whoever gets a rise out of Satoru wins," you said, cocking your head to your brother's general direction.

That was easy, he thought. The fact that he showed up for the week-long preparations for the nuptials was enough to draw out a profound reaction from Gojo. Nanami was just that kind of best friend – absent. In his defense, he did make it to the important parts just in time, but this was something new to Gojo. For all he knew, he wasn't even expecting him to arrive until the wedding.

"Fine." He nodded at you, the action very minute. He was never big on actions. "We'll talk about the compensation later."

You returned the gesture with saccharine mordacity to it. "Alright." However, instead of moving towards the goal, you walked towards the other direction, signaling for him to go first.

It was an easy victory. The moment he walked into the salon, Gojo’s attention was immediately pulled away from the flower arrangements, his eyes going wide as saucers as he took in the fact that his best man arrived way ahead of time.

"Who are you and what have you done to Nanami Kento?" he asked aloud, making some of the guests for the day's luncheon turn towards them. He was evidently elated, his wife-to-be coming to join in, hugging Nanami while he clapped the man on the shoulder.

"I wouldn't miss this happy occasion for the world," Nanami told the couple, trying his best to convey his thoughts without sounding patronizing. That would be overdoing things even if it meant he would win against you. He wasn’t big on emotions and sentiments either.

All the while, his eyes furtively strayed to you, his competitor, watching you from way across the ballroom, sipping leisurely at your champagne as if you cannot be bothered. However, if Nanami thought he has seen the worst that you can do, he couldn't have been more mistaken in his life.

In the next moment, you entered the salon, appearing self-satisfied as you sauntered towards them, looking like a queen surveying your domain. "Well, well. If it isn't the big shot lawyer himself, coming to grace us with his presence!"

He clucked his tongue, reading through your ploy. You weren’t exactly one for theatrics most of the time, typically straightforward and brutally frank, but your games were as intricate as they were vexing. Nanami turned to face you just enough to conceal his expression from Gojo and Utahime, arching a brow at you in both challenge and question.

In a flash of black and white, you have taken your place in front of him barely a foot away. Your intention to further close the distance between the both of you only became evident when both your hands shot forward, taking possession of both sides of his face as you willed him to bend to your height, tiptoeing to make up for the remaining space. In a brief but seemingly drawn-out sequence of events, you staked your claim on his slightly parted mouth in a scorching lip lock.

Nanami was momentarily distracted by the faint taste of champagne, that detail registering in his brain before the sensation of your pliant lips pressed against his. The realization dawned too late making blood rush up to his head and for his ears to ring as he froze and burned simultaneously. His arms had unconsciously found their way around your slender waist, the feel of your warmth under your taffeta dress searing his palms. It was more for the purpose of steadying himself than you on your precariously high heels. The mere touch of your hand made him incoherent, but the feeling of your lips on his drove him to irrationality. The slim likeliness of the act happening between him and you made it feel as if he was going to pass out or wake up from a long, vivid dream.

He was there. He exists. You were there, real as can be. And you were kissing him.

Gasps erupted from all around, and before he knew it, you have pulled away, releasing your grip on him. As if he couldn’t dig his grave any deeper and punctuate his loss any further, Nanami leaned towards you, chasing your lips, attempting to continue your little interlude, uncaring of where you were or who was watching. After having a tiny taste of it, the absence of your touch affronted him like no other. If having you that close was what it meant to lose, then he will gladly have it.

Your laughter snapped him out of his trance. When his vision focused, he found you leaning away, your hand pressed against his chest to keep him at bay.

“Eager, aren’t we?” you said loud enough for him to hear, and for everyone’s benefit, you droned on, saying, “Been dying to do that since I saw you come in.”

Dazed, he just stared at you before him, the fact that he did not just lose to you within the premise of the game registering in his mind like a flash of lightning. Blood rushed to his head, heat permeating from the base of his neck to his scalp when his eyes strayed to Gojo who looked scandalized.

“You…what…” the other male endeavored to speak, but nothing coherent came out of his mouth, his blue eyes rapidly shifting between you and Nanami while his fiancée giggled beside him.

Indifferent to everything else and your sights only set on the object of your trickery, you tittered, savoring the hilarity of the situation. At least, to you, it was funny. “See you around, Nanamin,” you drawled and left with that confident gait, shaking your head in levity.

He wanted to join in on your conviviality, but the idea dissipated faster than water under intense heat when he saw his best friend eyeing him like he was about to castrate him. Nanami straightened up, rearranging his expression to that of quiet shock, laying it on thick by blinking cluelessly as if it was typical of him but Gojo was having none of it.

Ah, the joys of losing to you, he could just think despite his impending doom. Or maybe he was doomed to begin with. He couldn’t care less with the pleasant tingling of his lips and the memory of yours, the taste lingering on his tongue.

“You and me, in the game room. You’ve a lot of explaining to do.”

**

If Nanami would be asked how many times he lost to you, he wouldn’t have an answer. At least not for what is healthy for his pride and because he lost count. His only consolation was that he wasn’t the only one who had ever been under your thumb over the years you have had the upper hand. You’ve always had the advantage, and one way or the other, regardless of the odds of the games you played, be it tomfoolery or serious bets, you invariably have a way of turning them into your favor.

He could well say his chances of winning cases in court is higher compared to the fact that you always bested him in life. It frustrated him to no end.

“Wanna play a game?” Those were always the words which heralded a series of infuriating inconveniences that he, along with some other individuals, had to be subjected to ever since you acquired your penchant for mischief and seeming thirst to challenge if not victimize people.

Those words, paired with a ridiculous nickname of your choosing for each of your conquests gave one no choice but to engage. The way you say it was enough to rile even someone who just happened to be listening, as if you were surreptitiously patronizing the person of your choosing. The unreadable expression on your face when you initiate your games also makes one’s hackles rise. While Gojo had the same tendency to be condescending when he wanted to be, you were exponentially more menacing compared to him.

In your defense, you never did it to everyone. It was as if you have a rationale behind the selection of people you felt like messing with. Your criteria was not something that is known to anybody else. At first, it was just Gojo. Then Geto and Shoko Ieiri, another close friend of your brother, got a taste of it until finally, it was his turn. Anyone none the wiser would think your ‘affections’ were solely focused on Gojo’s friends, but apparently, it wasn’t the case.

There were three kinds of people where your games were concerned: people you didn’t give a damn about, those you liked to play with and those you engaged with but eventually stopped being a pain to.

Most people around you were the first type since you mostly didn’t give two fucks about them. For some reason, it had become a sort of status quo in the Gojo household to be included in your sphere but few were lucky enough to hold your attention long enough.

The third kind were people who seemed to have reached an understanding with you. Geto, Utahime and Shoko used to be casualties in your ploys, but after a game or two, they’ve eventually ‘graduated,’ and you treated them like equals. Apart from that, there seems to be an exceptional case when you did not have to inflict yourself on the person just like in the case of your closest friend, Itadori Yuuji. That kid was special somehow, and Nanami thought perhaps he was, too, until you got started with him.

As for him and Gojo, they were still people you liked to torment. His theory was that you were looking for something from the people you play with. If you find it, you stop. It wasn’t a theory anymore that it was a sort of defense mechanism if he deduced right, judging from the situations which led to the change in your behavior.

It all started when you came home from boarding school overseas after finishing your freshman year in high school. Gojo had invited them over as per usual for the summer events being held at their estate but suddenly started talking about his concerns over you.

“She’s distant,” he said with a sigh when asked about it. Apparently, your parents were upset over you decision not to attend the school of their choice anymore and threatened to drop out and run away if they insisted further. “And there seems to be something wrong with her. She seems different somehow. Very snappy and always in a foul mood. She rarely leaves her room, and when we try to help, she gets angrier.”

“She’s in that phase, huh?” Shoko mused. “Want me to talk to her?”

Gojo insisted to do it, being all dramatic and saying he had been a lousy brother. But that’s when you started being the way you were. You weren’t an angry teen anymore, just someone who indulged yourself by toying with others without regard to whose expense and to what extent. Most of them were harmless, but you very nearly endangered two of your friends, too.

Nanami dug his own grave when he purposefully tried to have a go at you, pointing out your mistakes in an attempt to intervene at that time. You used to be rather passive where he was concerned, polite even, but then everything changed that night.

He was somehow glad that you decided to approach him when you needed help when you usually gravitated towards Geto, surprised to see you at his doorstep past midnight and looking ashen.

First, you dared this new girl, Kugisaki Nobara, to sneak into the abandoned factory at night, and the girl ended up hurting yourself. You looked so regretful and distraught while explaining what happened on the ride to the factory, and for the first time, he realized that you only ever challenged people you held a certain degree of fondness for. Everything ended well without anybody else knowing of your mishaps but him, and in a twist of fate, she even became your first real friend.

And then, you started yet another game with Fushiguro Megumi, effectively getting him kicked out his father’s clan. You weren’t exactly aware about the deeper reason as to why his family wanted him to be close to you, only that you found displeasure in it because he was a groom candidate. It was common among old clans like yours, and when you dared him to tell your parents he had no intention of marrying you, your brother had to intervene and take the boy in, ending up registered under Gojo Clan instead. While his family was trash in all sense of the word, you were still at fault since you ruined his only chance at being accepted by the clan head. Still, he, too, became your friend, and more than that, an adopted brother.

“Is this some attention-seeking behavior you’ve learned somewhere?” Nanami asked you that time.

“I get attention without as much as lifting a finger being who I am.” You snorted. “I can’t expect everything to be positive though.”

He was taken aback by your statement then. Still, he tested his theory. You were different after all. While some people admired you for your genius and your otherworldly looks, there will always be those who hated you for it. It was like a repeat of Gojo, except that he had them, his friends. Whom did you have?

“Are you being bullied at school?”

At that, your pupils constricted, your bright eyes turning icy as you regarded him. You were quiet for a moment as you stared, not exactly enraged but your brows furrowed together. Nanami could see the cogs in your brain moving through your eyes when you slowly grinned and said those four words: “Wanna play a game?”

He’s been losing to you ever since, not really knowing what you want and what set you off, hell-bent on making him miserable at every opportunity you could take.

It wasn’t all different at present.

The moment he heard the click of the doorknob and your scent – a mix of crisp autumn air, vanilla and a hint of something that reminded him of happiness – registered in his brain, he froze on his chair in the study where he was currently taking notes on his upcoming case. It was a trade-off for the length of time he would be gone from the law firm he worked at. His grip on his pen tightened that he thought he would break it to splinters when he saw you from his periphery, still looking like a goddess, fresh and gorgeous despite the day's affairs.

You were so painfully beautiful that concentrating on the file before him was proving to be difficult. Everything else didn't make sense to him whenever you were in the same room as he is. It didn't help that you kissed him in front of everyone just a few hours ago. He couldn't forget the feeling no matter how many times he convinced himself that it was just you playing your games; that it was nothing. He wished it was otherwise, not that it helped in his cause a bit.

"What on earth was that about?" Gojo demanded, pulling him aside to the game room like a child who did something naughty. In fairness to him, he was still fond enough of Nanami to offer him a drink but, indeed, he thought, what on earth was that about?

He shrugged. "Have you met your sister? Surely, you know just what crazy antics she has up her sleeves. She gets her annoying side from you anyway."

The answer seemed to have placated the male for the time being but if you were going to continue with your mischief, Nanami has no way of telling where things can go. And judging by your confident gait and the complacent grin swathed on your countenance, you were up to no good again.

He carded his fingers through his blond locks, leaning back on the chair as he furtively watched you.

"Do you need anything?" he asked calmly despite himself.

"Hmm. I won," you murmured, rounding the heavy oak desk before vaulting yourself up on it to sit just beside his papers, your eyes zeroing in on the files.

He shot you an accusing glare. "What was that about?"

You arched a brow at him, wrenching your gaze from the documents with a frown, the way your eyes widened in mock innocence making him want to box your ears. "What was what about, Nanamin?” The preposterous nickname rolled off your tongue tauntingly. “I thought you hated questions that can be openly interpreted."

"Why did you kiss me?" he snapped.

"Well..." You openly mocked him with a smile. "Could there be any other reason apart from our bet?"

"Of all the things you could think of, you went for something that would give your brother a heart attack not to mention that it put me in hot waters."

“Isn’t that the objective of our little bet?”

He sighed. "This is the last time I'm indulging you."

"Eh? You said that the last time we saw each other, too." You feigned exasperation. "Doesn't change the fact that you lost again though."

"What do you want?" He finally sat up straight, stacking the documents on the table. "Why are you sitting there anyway?"

"You're right." You jumped off the desk and much to his confusion, instead of taking one of the seats at the other side of the table, you swatted his arm from the papers and sat on his lap like he was an easy chair.

"What –"

You turned to him then, your faces just inches from one another. "Is this better?" you asked as if you saw nothing wrong with your iffy position.

Nanami didn't know what to do with, his arms remaining still on his sides while he just stared at you as if you grew two heads. "Is this another one of your games?"

You leaned closer to him, your bright eyes drowning him. "You tell me." You laughed then. "I wasn't the one who couldn't get enough of this afternoon's kiss."

He shrugged before he could run away with his thoughts. You were right. He did want to kiss you more, but it wasn't as if he could.

Just then, you reached over and removed the glasses that were always perched over his nose then wore it yourself. "What are you doing?"

"You look better without them," you commented.

"I need them for reading." He rolled his eyes at you. "Get off, Y/N."

"Hmm? Is that really what you want?" you taunted, your hand having found purchase at the back of his head, fingers toying with his soft hair.

He placed a hand on your thigh, slowly climbing up to your hip, reveling in the feel of your warmth under his touch. He looked at you seriously then and leaned away, surprised when you frowned momentarily. It was so fleeting, he didn’t know whether he was imagining it when he saw disappointment on your face. That was a first.

"Y/N, Just tell me what you want. You won the bet after all."

Shrugging, you stood up as if you weren’t just perched on his lap. "Go figure," you quipped, sounding pissed off. "Think of something I would actually want. It's up to you."

“Another game?”

“Think of it as you want.”

"What?"

You slammed the door close in your wake before he could get an answer, once again leaving him there puzzled at your reaction and exasperated with himself.

-end of Part 1-

First of all, Happy Cake Day to the love of my life, Nanamin!

I made him a lawyer here cause that's freakin' hot!!!

*I used “you” here, but since my character is Gojo’s little sister who is established to be his female clone for reasons essential to the plot, she possesses the same blue eyes and white hair. I did not exactly want to create an OC (although technically, I did by describing Y/N), but I opted for the best of both worlds in this fic, leaning more towards the literary aspect of it as opposed to it just being reader/you-oriented. I hope this isn’t iffy to anyone, and yeah, i’m not being exclusive or whatever.

Everyone's aged up here as well, including the younger characters which will be included in the story.

Thank you so much for reading. Likes, comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated! Hope you enjoyed it.

© ORIGINAL WORK BY nanaminokanojo. CHARACTERS ARE INSPIRED BY GEGE AKUTAMI'S JUJUTSU KAISEN. [20210703]

PHOTO/IMAGE/GIF/FANART SOURCES CREDITS TO THE RESPECTIVE OWNERS.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

Forged - Tierna Davidson x Reader

Prompt: Could you do one where R is a part time black smither. Like R is making hand forged rings and stuff for the uswnt and Tierna absolutely loves it cuz it makes R very muscular and she’s gay. 

“You alright there T?” Alyssa smirked at the younger defender.

“What?” Tierna shook her head, dazed at the question, clearly distracted.

“I asked if you were alright,” the keeper smirked again, laughing this time.

“Me? Alright? You bet,” the defender tried to focus back to the keeper, blushing.

“You sure? You seem a little distracted,” Sonnett came from behind, slinging an arm over her shoulders.

The brunettes blush deepened, dropping her gaze to the ground, embarrassed at being caught staring.

“How the fuck do forearms look hot?” She suddenly took a step away, motioning an arm to Y/N on the other side of the weight room.

“Seriously? That’s the part of Y/N that you find the hottest?” Alyssa asked confused.

“I mean, it probably means she’s pretty good with her hands,” Sonnett winked.

Everyone on the team was well aware of Tierna’s feelings for the forward. Tierna didn’t hide her feelings for Y/N, but Y/N was oblivious to them. The defender had asked the forward out several times, the forward would agree, only for her to be unaware of Tierna’s intentions. How Y/N still didn’t know how she felt, was beyond everyone on the team.

“She just did a 48” box jump, and you’re interested in her forearms?” Ali joined.

“I mean, that’s hot too, but like, you’ve them, right?”

“Well yea, she would, she works with her hands. Don’t say it” Becky cuts Sonnett off with a firm glare and a pointed finger when she sees the blonde defender about to say something. “She’s a blacksmith.”

Sonnett snapped her mouth shut at the look Becky was giving her, but still smirking.

“I agree with Sonnett,” Ali smirked too. “Definitely means she’s is good with her hands.”

“Not helping!” Tierna dropped her arms to her side.

“Ask her to see some of her stuff between practices,” Alyssa tried to help. “She does really good work. “

“Yes!” Tierna whipped around to the keeper.

“She lives in Chicago with you! How have you never seen her work?” Becky questioned. “I think I figured out why you aren’t dating yet.”

Tierna blushed while everyone else smirked at the defender.

“Y/L/N!” Sonnett yelled out across the gym, getting the attention of everyone else in the room.

Davidson smacked the blondes arm, staring at her eyes wide.

Y/N looked toward the group, eyes squinting, cocking her head to the side, and awkwardly waving.

She took a few tentative steps to them as Ali and Emily frantically waved her over towards them.

“Uh hey guys,” Y/N started unsure, looking between each person, confusion evident on her face.

“T has something she needed to tell you,” Sonnett gripped the other defenders shoulder, turning her to look at the forward.

“Oh? What’s up T?” 

The rest of the group all muttered vague excuses and scrambled away, Becky and Sonnett pausing to give Tierna a thumbs up behind Y/N’s back, Ali mouthing you got this, Alyssa rolled her eyes at the groups antics.

“What are you up to for the day off tomorrow? Alyssa mentioned you might be working in your shop or something,” Tierna started shyly.

“I am! I’m working on something really cool for the  team for the end of the season. You can totally come check it out if you can keep it a secret,” Y/N winked, earning a blush from the defender.

“I can definitely keep a secret. I’ll bring lunch?”

“Perfect! It’s a date!”

The loud clap of hands could be heard behind Y/N as Becky and Sonnett high fived.

“Get back to work!” One of the trainers called out, noticing so many of the players not accomplishing anything.

 The next day, Y/N was already gone that morning, having gone home the night before for the day off.

Tierna nervously picked at her plate at breakfast that morning, she would be joining Y/N in her shop in only a couple hours.

“Why are you so nervous? You’ve asked her out before and she’s said yes before.” Alyssa glanced up from her own plate.

“But she has never actually referred to it as a date!”

Alyssa rolled her eyes at the defenders dramatics, going back to her plate.

“It’s going to be fine T, take some lunch, chill out with her while she works, tell her how hot you think her forearms are,” Ali rubbed a hand on Tierna’s shoulder.

Tierna nodded to herself, continuing to push the food around on her plate.

“Do you think she thinks it’s a date?” Tierna glanced shyly at the other defender.

Ali stopped her ministrations and squeezed her shoulder, encouraging Tierna to look up and make eye contact.

“If she doesn’t, this is the perfect opportunity to make your intentions clear.”

“Yea that’s true. I’m just starting to think she doesn’t feel the same way. We’ve gone out a few times, but she never seems into it or like she is just too nice to say no.”

 A couple hours later, Tierna approached the open shop door, hearing the banging of metal.

Entering, she paused. Y/N’s back was to the shop door, her t-shirt was tight across her shoulder, the flexion of her muscles apparent, jeans fitted and dirty. Tierna swallowed, this was going to be a long lunch, and this was just what she could see from behind.

Waiting for an appropriate pause in Y/N’s work, she knocked loudly on the door. If Tierna felt overwhelmed from seeing Y/N from behind, the front made her speechless. The t-shirt was stretched on her biceps, veins popping in her forearms while they gripped her tools. Sweat apparent on her forehead and forearms, causing the soot and dirt to smear across the uncovered flesh.  

“Hey! You came!” Y/N turned around, smiling at the defender.

Tierna opened and closed her mouth a few times, too stunned at the very attractive appearance of the forward. Y/N cocked her head to the side at the hesitation.

“Hey! Of course I came, you said it was a date,” Tierna shook her head and gave her a wink, holding up the bag of sandwiches she brought with her. “Brought lunch.

“Perfect, I’m starving. Just let me wash up.”

Tierna set the bag down on the cleanest portion of the work bench she could find, then wandered around the small shop.

“Sorry, not the cleanest place to work,” Y/N apologized as she walked back in.

“This stuff is all so cool,” Tierna looked back up to the forward.

“Thanks, why don’t we eat and I can show you what I was working on.”

Y/N grabbed a clean rag, wiping down the work bench, pulling a chair out for Tierna to sit down. Tierna brushed past Y/N, gently squeezing her arm in thanks as she sat down. Tierna began pulling out sandwiches, handing one off to Y/N before opening her own.

“Ahh you remembered extra pickles!” Y/N gave the defender a big smile, dirt still smeared on her face.

“Of course I remembered you weirdo, you put them on everything,” she teased.

The pair talked about everything, teasing and bantering, Tierna asking about all the tools within her eye site, Y/N eagerly telling her all about them and what they did. As soon as she finished eating, Y/N hopped up and turning the heat back up on her forge, gathering a few of the extra tools.

“Wanna try a little bit?”

“Absolutley!” Tierna took the leather apron handed to her.

Y/N set up Teirna in front of the anvil, bringing out a heated piece of metal and placing it on top. Pressing a hammer and chisel into her hands.

“I’ll hold it with the tongs, you,” Y/N guided one of Tierna’s hand with a chisel, “hold it here like this,” she adjusted it how she needed it, “and this one,” she shifted the other hand with a hammer, “strikes here.”  

Y/N used one hand to firmly hold the metal in place while guiding the hand with the hammer to strike the metal.

“What are we making?” Teirna asked without taking her eyes off their hands.

“Rings,” Y/N replied, shifting to readjust the brunettes hands.

Tierna’s hands stopped, “how is this going to turn into rings?”

Y/N took over before the metal cooled too much to work with. Once satisfied it was alright to leave it, she pulled away, taking the tools from Tierna’s hands.

“Come look!” Y/N tugged Tierna over to another bench, pulling out a small case.

Tierna took the box, opening and gasped.

“You made all these?” she gently shifted the rings, looking at all of them.

Y/N nodded shyly, “I made them for the team for after the Olympics. Kind of cheesy I know, just a little thing for how hard everyone has worked this year. 

“These are so good!” Tierna reassured, “they’re all different.”

“Yea I made one for each one, tried to make them all personal.”

“Which one is mine?”

Y/N took the box and placed it back on the work bench, pulling one out and holding it up.

Tierna gasped again; the ring was gorgeous.

“This is amazing!”

Y/N blushed at the praise. Tierna slid the ring on, then gently grasped Y/N hand with one hand, the other gripping the opposite elbow.

“I like you Y/N.”

“I like you too T,” Y/N cocked her head to side at the change in topic.

“No, I like you as more than a friend Y/N.”

“Well that’s good, or this would have been very awkward,” Y/N chuckled.

“What?” Now the defender was confused.

“I don’t normally date people I don’t like and I kind of assumed you didn’t either.

“What?”

Y/N laughed and stepped into Tiernas space.

“I’m going to kiss you now T.”

Y/N placed a hand behind Tiernas head, pulling her in for a gentle kiss.

The kiss remained gentle, Tierna pulled away, leaving her hands on Y/N’s arms.

“Wait, you knew I had asked you out?”

“Of course did? What did you think had been happening for the last couple weeks?” Y/N laughed again.

Tierna pulled away more and shook her head with a chuckle. “I thought you were just oblivious to me asking you out.”

“Anyone would be a fool to say no to you,” Y/N pulled her in for another kiss.