#obviously this doesn’t apply if you work a night shift of any kind. but if you work anything close to a 9-5? game changer.

[esleep]

for real if you work an average day job that requires you to wake up at a standard time in the morning i highly recommend getting rid of your blackout curtains, or at least giving it a try for a couple of weeks to see how you feel. the sun is a vital part of your body’s sleep/wake cycle and dark curtains block you from getting the benefits of that so they can make you feel way more tired and groggy in the morning. use an eye mask if you need total darkness to fall asleep. doing this absolutely changed my life.

[vanoincidence]

Mama Mia! || Van & Wynne

TIMING: before van started to crave the great Hay. PARTIES: @ohwynne & @vanoincidence SUMMARY: wynne comes to sly slice to see van drowning in pizza! CONTENT WARNINGS: none!

“This is too many.” Van stared dejectedly at the number of paper plates that were stacked on top of one another. The grease from each slice of pizza seemed to pool through to the next plate, and so on and so forth. The few tables they did have were covered in plates of pizza. “Why did you take a preorder?” The new employee, Janice, hadn’t known that they were a order-at-counter business only. Rocky wasn’t answering his phone, and the last time something like this had happened, Van was the one who got yelled at for it. 

She continued staring at the paper plates as Janice quickly ducked away towards the back. Well, this was a great start to Van’s night shift. It was a random Wednesday evening, so the hope that flocks of college students might venture in and eat hours-old pizza was a slim chance. Too transfixed by her current predicament, Van didn’t hear the door when it opened, or when they spoke aloud– something about pizza. Obviously. This was a pizza shop. Van blinked a few times before looking over at the person who had come in. “There’s so much pizza.” It was all she could say and all she could register. “Do you want hour old pizza? Discounted at 3.50 instead of the usual 4 dollars?” 

—

Customer service was far from an ideal job, that much Wynne had learned over the past two months. That was not to say they were looking for brighter horizons, as they hardly felt deserving of it (and didn’t have the energy to apply for another job, anyway). It did mean that they made a concentrated effort to be kind to any and all people they came across working a customer service job. That went for this evening, too, during which they were in need of some dinner and had little energy or drive to make it themself. So they walked into Sly Slice, quietly witnessing the stack of plates. It was a miracle it didn’t collapse.

The person behind the cash register seemed transfixed by it too, as she didn’t hear Wynne when they quietly ordered. Not that they blamed her, nor her unhelpful comment: it was something Wynne might have done, if the roles were reversed. “It is a lot. Did someone change their mind?” They imagined the coffee bar filled with cups of coffee, slowly cooling down and not being taken home. Wynne would hate such a situation. They considered the discount, then nodded. “Sure. I like it cold, too. If you have any cheese or vegetable pizza, that is?” Surely there had to be some, among all those plates.

—

She should make it a bigger discount, and Van knew Rocky would be upset if they lost any money on this, especially because it was an employee's fault. It’s that damn coven again. Van could hear the string of his obscenities in her head, and though she wanted to remind him that covens weren’t real and it was probably a group of bored teenagers, she often held her tongue. But Rocky wasn’t here to protest the discount. Janice was in the back, probably doing something not very useful, and Van was… left to deal with it all. She could cry. 

“Somebody decided to take an order over the phone, which we aren’t supposed to do.” The earlier shift leader had left as soon as Van clocked in, so she hadn’t even had time to see what was happening before she was left to deal with it all on her own. Van tapped her fingers against the counter and tried her best to count the number of plates she saw, but it was no use. There had to be at least thirty plates, if she could guess. “It doesn’t have to be cold. Janice can heat them up for you.” She spoke loudly so that she knew Janice would hear her, then she looked back over at the customer. “How many do you want?” 

—

Wynne frowned, feeling for the employee and her strange, pizza-filled situation. “Oh. And now they didn’t come to pick it up, I take?” They wanted to make sure they understood the situation, as they tended to misinterpret or misunderstand plenty of things. They pushed their lips into a sympathetic yet awkward smile, the same one people passing them on the street gave them. They did feel really bad for the other and hoped no manager would come barking at them, the way Todd had done with them before when things had gone missing in the shop.

The goal had been to acquire two slices of pizza, but they looked at the large stack and then the other’s face and decided that maybe they could do two acts of kindness. Get some pizza for the flat and maybe Emilio, and help out the other. Wynne considered how much money they had. “Maybe something like seven slices?” They should be able to cough that up. “And if you could just heat up one, then that’d be perfect. Otherwise no problem, too.” 

—

“They didn’t.” Van bit her tongue from saying, isn’t that obvious? This was a customer. She couldn’t be rude. Even if they weren’t a customer, Van probably wouldn’t have been rude. She was just stressed. That’s all this was. She tried her best to keep her expression neutral, but it had distorted into something uncomfortable as her gaze continued to wander over the mountain of paper plates. “But I’ll figure it out.” She had to, or else she might lose her job even though it wasn’t her fault. 

“Seven?” Van’s eyes lit up. That would make a dent in her problem, but she didn’t want the customer to feel obligated to buy them just because Van was about to have a breakdown about the number of pizza slices she’d been faced with. “No, no– I can heat them up.” Van held up her hand for them to wait for a moment before she went into the back to find Janice, but she was nowhere. “Again? Seriously?” With a frustrated sigh, she returned to the front of the shop and gave them an awkward smile. “I’ll be right back.” Van grabbed the seven slices, balancing them precariously on her arms like they did in the movies before heading towards the oven. She heated up the one slice, then decided to do so for the rest, before putting them in the individual to-go boxes. Why Janice hadn’t done that and instead put them on paper plates, Van couldn't be sure. Maybe to fuck with her. “Here you go.” The stack of boxes was over her head as she slid them onto the counter. She held onto the middle part, balancing them so that they wouldn’t fall over. “We have… plastic bags.” 

—

They felt a little powerless, in this situation. If Wynne had money to spare – and they most certainly didn’t – they’d splurge and buy all the pizza, redistribute it among the people they knew and those they didn’t. Instead, they just lifted their shoulders. “That’s very shitty and inconsiderate of them.” The word shitty felt a bit foreign to them, but it seemed to fit the situation. “I’m sure you’ll be okay! Maybe you can put a message online about there being a slight discount? People do love a bargain.” A Latte to Love used their social media plenty, though Wynne couldn’t say they were very good at it. It was a very good lesson in marketing, even if that wasn’t a skill they were looking to develop deeply.

“Please take your time,” they said as the other looked more and more stressed. Wynne did hope that she didn’t feel rushed, that they were being a good customer. After all the bad customers they’d handled themself that day, they really didn’t want to be in the same category as them. Once they observed the large stack of pizza boxes and wondered how they’d walk home balancing all that, though luckily the employee came with a solution. “Maybe a bag would be nice, yes? It’s okay if that’s extra.” Though it wouldn’t be a solution to the other problem starting to pop up: the pizza smelled very good, and they were afraid they’d eat the slices they’d intended for others all by themself. They gave another slight smile to the employee. “Sometimes you just have those days, right? With customers, I mean.” They frowned, concerned that that was vague. “I work as a barista, so I can kind of get it.” 

—

“Oh, you’re right. I forgot about the internet.” Rich, considering Van spent all of her time on it. She nodded, poking her pen into the air between herself and the customer. “That’s a good idea. Thank you!” She could kiss them on the forehead for the suggestion, as well as for even buying the pizza in the first place. “Thank you, seriously.” She peered over the stack of boxes and leaned around to grab a plastic bag. She shook it out awkwardly before grabbing a few of the topmost boxes. She aligned them perfectly to the bottom of the bag and lifted the handles, testing the weight to make sure that the bag wouldn’t rip. 

It seemed secure enough, so she added a few other boxes and nodded to herself as if it were some enormous accomplishment. Van looked up at them and shook her head. “Not charging you extra for bags.” That would be shitty of her to do, especially because they were helping her with a massive chunk of the slices. “Sucks that it’s not a bar crawl day. Could’ve gotten rid of these so easily.” She sighed dramatically before nodding at their comment. “I guess so? Sucks, but you’re right.” Van scrunched her nose and grabbed a second plastic bag, just in case, and began to fit it around the already bulging one. “A barista? In town?” Van looked up at them. “You didn’t go to my school.” She paused. “Sorry, like– elementary, middle, high– I was born and raised here. Are you here for college?” 

—

“Hey, it happens.” Wynne smiled a little in recognition, because there were plenty of moments where they forgot the internet was right in their pocket. They nodded, waved a little as if to tell the other not to worry about it. Then, they looked a bit more serious: “You’re welcome, of course, but you really should try not to thank people. Some people might use that against you.” They hoped the other would not ask for an explanation, as they didn’t want to seem like someone who had possibly lost their mind, but it still seemed like a fair warning to give. The other seemed nice, after all.

Wynne wasn’t sure what a bar crawl was, but it seemed that it was something that involved bars and pizza — so presumably also copious amounts of alcohol. They only ever saw the after-effects of that, but it did seem that students partook in rather a lot of drinking. “It really does suck. Maybe there will be some spontaneous people that step by, though?” Surely people would come if there was a good deal. They looked at the other for a moment, eyes a little wide as she pointed out not to recognize them. “No, I just moved here, so that would make sense. I work at a Latte to Love. Have been there for a few months!” They shook their head, then. “No, I don’t go to college.” What were they here for? They hadn’t come for anything but a pitstop, and now only remained for others. Certainly not to make coffee. “Just work at the coffee shop.”

—

“People keep saying that.” Van wasn’t sure how much more happening she could take before she lost it. It was getting harder to see through to the other side. The side without stupid melting objects and stupid situations at work. “But yeah, I guess it does.” Van mustered up the energy to return the other’s smile only for it to falter at their words. It was the same thing Cass had said. Was this person from Hawai’i, too? Not to say she hadn’t heard the same advice before, but it’d become more prominent in the last few weeks that she’d spent away from home. “I’ve heard that a lot, too. But uh, sure. Okay.” It was pretty clear she didn’t believe in whatever higher power would hold thanks against her. She’d rather be polite than not. 

“Maybe.” Van sighed, looking past the customer and towards the door. There was nobody else dropping in, even if they were staring at the massive amounts of paper plates that covered the tables. As they began to explain that they’d only just moved to Wicked’s Rest, Van perked up slightly. So maybe they were also from Hawai’i. “Latte to Love? I go there like, all the time.” She’d bought more red bull than she had coffees in the past few weeks, but mostly because it meant less social interaction. “That’s cool though. I don’t go to college either, I just work at the pizza shop.” She didn’t want them to feel bad for not attending college, especially when she didn’t think it mattered much at all anyway. There was a part of her that wished she hadn’t fucked up so monumentally, but that was what had happened, and there was no changing it. “You know my name,” Van plucked at her name tag, pulling her shirt slightly forward so that it untucked from her jeans. “What’s yours?” The nametag read Vanessa, but the essa was crossed out with red sharpie. 

—

They looked at the other inquisitively for a moment, wondering what she meant by that and whether all was okay. Wynne didn’t want to pry into the personal life of a stranger, though, even if they understood being down by the mess that life often left people in. They lifted their shoulders a little as their advice was accepted. “I know it sounds weird. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with …” They frowned. “Being cautious. Maybe it’s just superstitious, but even so. No harm no foul, right?” Though it was very annoying to not say thank you to people, especially those that deserved to be thanked.

“I hope so, anyway.” They squinted a little at the other, trying to figure out if they’d ever helped her to a coffee before. Wynne must have, but the first weeks at their job had been a blur and even now they often felt like they were living in some kind of haze. “That’s sweet! It’s a nice place, I think.” Good enough pay, even if certain people insinuated that Wynne could do better — without really clarifying what that could entail. They were somewhat glad when the other revealed that she didn’t go to university, either. It seemed like the norm to do so, especially in this college-town. “Look at us, helping so many students but not being one. I don’t mind it, though.” They did, sometimes. They took a glance at the name tag, noting the name Van. “I’m Wynne. It’s really nice to meet you, Van.”

—

“Yeah, maybe?” Van wasn’t sure why saying thanks had any superstitions aligned with it. It made no damn sense. But if it was something that someone believed, she’d keep her opinions to herself. It wasn’t like it was hurting anyone, it was just a little rude within certain contexts. Van decided to drop it, forcing an awkward smile. 

“Do you like it? I think I lasted like, a day there.” A customer had come in accusing her of not using oat milk when she definitely had used oat milk and it resulted in several of the syrup containers shattering, sending the sticky stuff everywhere. Van’s boss had blamed her, even though she knew she hadn’t done anything. “It wasn’t really my scene, I don’t think.” At least Rocky didn’t blame her for the weird shit that happened at Sly Slice. If he did, she would have gotten fired a long time ago. Somewhere at the back of her mind, however, Van stifled the voice that told her it was her fault– that all of it was.

At Wynne’s comment, Van laughed, slapping her hand down onto the counter. “You’re so right. We are the backbone of society. Fuck the professors, they don’t do shit.” She leaned forward, the pads of her fingers pressing into the counter. “Wynne? That’s a really nice name! I like that a lot. People probably don’t mistake you for a car, huh?” She frowned slightly before shaking her head. “I’m glad you came in today, and not just because of the pizzas.” Wynne had an energy about them, and while Van wasn’t typically a good judge of character, there was something that told her they wouldn’t suddenly try to stab her. It was a nice feeling. Maybe she was being a little too forward. She wasn’t used to conversations taking place anywhere but offline. Not meaningful ones, anyway. “I’ll throw four on the house, I sort of just want them gone now.” The frustration and anxiety from the situation had slowly dissipated, and if Rocky really had an issue with how she resolved the current conundrum, she’d tell him to take it out of her paycheck. 

[hongism]

01 - p.seonghwa + impregnation/begging (18+)

» p.seonghwa x fem!reader » 18+ dni if minor » smut/pwp » language, explicit sex, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie, use of petnames, manual stimulation, begging, impregnation kink » wc 5.4k » link to masterlist

“so.”

“so,” the man across from you echoes back, mug halfway to his lips as he arches a neatly shaped brow in your direction.

“you’re a sex worker.”

seonghwa almost sputters on his coffee. the bluntness of your statement hits with full force, and in your defense, you had a better approach before sitting down on his couch twenty minutes ago. that went out the window obviously. you’d like to say that nerves got the best of you.

“i… yes, y/n, you’ve known this for years now, no?”

“well, yes. i have.”

“are you looking to… become one yourself?”

“no! no, no, absolutely not.” seonghwa hums around the rim of his mug. “not that there’s anything wrong with that line of work! it’s just not — i can’t see myself doing that, you know? i’m sure you’re great at it.”

“no complaints so far.” he smiles with one side of his face, smirk turning your insides to mush at the insinuation. “it’s true though: the job isn’t easy, and not everyone enjoys it or sticks with it. some crank the dial down a few notches and choose to become strippers instead. some move up to other areas of expertise like hardcore bdsm clubs. i’ve seen it all.”

you can’t recall the first time seonghwa told you of his line of work — he refers to it as a third base revelation, one he only gives out after being friends with some for a while, and although you two aren’t the closest, he’s still the only friend you have in such a position. and admittedly, he’s invited you to some… shows and most intense viewings for people interested in voyeurism and exhibitionism, but neither of those are on your list of interests. the first time you asked him how he finds it in himself to do all those things, he simply shrugged.

“i’m surprisingly vanilla outside of work. i enjoy my job, yeah, and all that it comes with most of the time. but in my own sex life? i like keeping it simple so it doesn’t feel like i’m at work again.”

right now you’re wondering where your request will fall on the spectrum.

“why do you ask, y/n?” he poses the question with ease, a quick diversion from one topic to the next with such fluidity that you can’t help but to answer right away.

“i was curious about something and was wondering if you could help me with it.”

seonghwa unfurls his legs out from under his body, letting both feet hit the floor as he leans forward to set his mug down on the table between you two. you seem to have piqued his interest in the very least.

“enlighten me.”

“well, you said you’ve seen it all. does that apply to… kinks too?” to be talking about sex on such a level like it’s being done over morning coffee is something your mother would scoff at, probably reaching for her bible in attempts to purify her sinful daughter all the while. in reality it’s half past nine in the evening right now, and seonghwa is fresh out of a shower after a work shift, long black hair falling around his face to frame his pretty dark eyes. he’s captivating in a lot of ways; that’s never eluded your thoughts. it’s hard to not admire him or view him in some kind of sexual way especially when he discusses his job so freely.

“yes, my dear y/n. although there are things even i won’t do for work. fulfilling people’s fantasies only goes so far as my comfort zone allows me to. where i work, however, we have certain workers who specialize in some areas more than others, which is why we take our matching process so seriously.”

you’ve been beating around the bush a bit, so you know now is the moment to just spit it out or else you’ll continue running circles around seonghwa all night. you didn’t even intend to take up his freetime like this as it is.

“then, um, does anyone — any of your coworkers — d-do they specialize in breeding or impregnation?” you tilt your chin down to your chest as you ask the question, feeling the sudden weight of how awkward this feels on your side of things. this must be totally normal to seonghwa, someone who has slept with people of all genders whether they’re friends or lovers or strangers. but to you? your nights usually consist of you and your trusty vibrator, or the occasional hookup where they fuck you in missionary position until they cum. this is well out of your comfort zone to even be discussing like this.

seonghwa’s gaze is on you. you can feel it burning holes into the crown of your head. the silence stretches on for what feels like forever, although you’re certain that’s just your mind manifesting some of your anxieties about this.

“they do,” he replies at last, voice scratchy like he needs to clear his throat. he does a second later, then brings his left leg up over his right knee. the position brings your gaze to him. there’s a certain level of sheer seduction to how he moves, just naturally and unintentional at best, but with the topic at hand, you’re wondering if there’s a little motive to the movements. “do you have a friend who is looking for something? that in particular, i mean?”

the question is clearly searching, and even though you think seonghwa knows where this question will lead, you sense that he’s aiming for a direct confirmation from your lips.

“i-i am.”

“and you’d like me to find someone who would be a good fit for you?”

ding ding ding. seonghwa hits the nail right on the head, tongue poking out to drag over his lower lip as he glances over your expression. you bite the inside of your cheek.

“yes. like, i was thinking maybe um, i could meet you at the club? and you could help me find someone for that?”

seonghwa laughs at that, a deep and throaty sound that goes straight through your chest and out the other side like you’ve been shot.

“oh baby, why go through the trouble when i’m right here?”

“what?” you blurt in an instant. you heard him perfectly fine, you know exactly what he just laid out on the table, but still that doesn’t stop the disbelief from overcoming you. seonghwa drops his head to the side, one corner of his mouth pulling upwards with the motion, and he huffs out a breathless laugh.

“my specialty… my area of expertise, that is—” he pauses to lick at the edge of his lips, and you admittedly spend far too long staring at his tongue‌ “—let’s just say that i’ve been known to beg for the chance to indulge in such a kink.”

that’s a bit of a power trip in and of itself, although it’s not even a goal you have for the bedroom. just the idea of a man like seonghwa begging you for the chance to cum inside and—

you swallow to stop the thoughts from continuing, nearly ashamed at how filthy they are with the man sitting directly across from you.

“it’s outside your work hours,” you state somewhat dumbly, and seonghwa notes that with another laugh.

“i wouldn’t fuck you tonight even if you asked me to.”

“oh.”

“that specific kink — it requires unprotected sex, and in my line of work, that’s something we take very seriously. so, even though we’re close friends, we’ll need to go about this the right way.”

“which is?” it’s a quick admission to how badly you want seonghwa, and you see his pupils flash like an animal’s when he hears your interest.

“schedule an appointment at your gynecologist this week. i’ll send you the money to cover it, so don’t worry about the cost. have an std test done and get a copy of the results. sunday evening, come here at seven with them, okay? i’ll bring mine as well. i’m assuming we’re both clean here, so things ought to be smooth sailing from there. for now, though, let’s talk specifics.”

“specifics?” you press your thumbs into your palms, a nervous habit you picked up years ago.

“what’s on the table, what isn’t, hard limits, whether you want to use the color system for safewords, roleplaying and such. probably a lot all at once, but we can talk through it slowly, yeah? my primary job is your comfort, y/n, then your pleasure.”

“okay. um, fire away then.” handing over the control of the conversation to seonghwa is easy because he knows this better than you do, and you have no qualms with letting him lead how it will look as long as it conforms to your comfort zone. you trust him, he’s your friend first before he’s a sexual partner, and you know he’ll take great care to modify himself to your limits in the bedroom.

“what’s on the table. a breeding and impregnation kink?”

“yes.” it’s easier to admit this time around, and seonghwa’s somewhat gentle smile only encourages that further.

“hard limits?”

“uh, degradation, hitting, choking, things like that. i don’t want you — don’t like being called names.”

“perfect. praise then?”

“it’s not a necessity, not really.”

“and do you want to implement dom/sub themes to our scene?”

“no, not really. that feels… um, the few times i’ve tried it, it’s just felt rather impersonal and unenjoyable for me.”

“alright, we can avoid it. you’re familiar with the traffic light system of safewords?”

“yes. red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for good to go. i’m fine with using that.”

“and roleplay? do you want us to be more of actors in the scope of sex, or?”

“n-no, i’d like it to just… be us. no acting, if it can be avoided.” seonghwa lifts a hand to his chest and presses down hard over his heart.

“careful there, y/n. you might make me catch feelings talking so sweetly like that.”

you feel your body heat up at those words, a feeling of almost embarrassment at being called out even though it was never your intention to begin with. seonghwa moves again, and both feet find solid ground before he pushes himself to his feet. you watch him stand, eyes wavering a little under how tall he seems from this angle. he’s as elegant and graceful as ever, the epitome of want and seduction to a point where it’s no wonder people of all kinds are attracted to him. the effect he has on you just in two steps is dizzying at best.

seonghwa gets close enough for your knees to nearly brush as he stands before you. when he brings his index finger to your chin and tilts your head up to better see your face, you simply let him. entranced and intoxicated. it leaves you wanting to explore a little more.

“i don’t want it to feel like work to you,” you murmur with the last bit of sanity you have left in your body. he bends at the waist, free hand tucked behind his back and resting against his tailbone as he moves to close the distance between your mouths. you strain to reach him, but he stays just far enough out of reach to where only his breath cascade over your lips.

“it most certainly won’t.”

sunday can’t come fast enough in your mind. even though nerves are a big factor in how you’re currently feeling, you are moreso impatient about finally getting what you’re after. the fact that it’s going to be with seonghwa of all people is just an added bonus. thus during the entire elevator ride up to seonghwa’s floor, you’re clutching your clean std results in one hand over your chest with enough force to tear the paper. true to his word, seonghwa did indeed send you the exact amount of money you needed to cover the appointment, plus a little extra pocket money that he refused to take when you tried sending it back. it makes you feel like you are the one doing him a favor when in reality it’s the other way around.

the ding of the elevator announces your arrival, and you step out into the long stretch of hallway after smoothing your dress down. he gave you no dress code for tonight — frankly you probably won’t be in clothes for long as it is — but you still put on a strappy little black dress to at least feel somewhat seductive and enticing. stupid, perhaps, but mostly a confidence boost.

it proves effective and worth it when seonghwa opens the door and takes in your exposed skin and body with little inhibitions.

“ah… i should’ve put something nicer on it seems.” he drags his tongue over the front of his teeth before smiling wide. you are indeed overdressed seeing as he’s got sweatpants and a plain black tee on, but the way he’s looking at you leaves little to the imagination and makes you feel just fine about the differences in your outfits.

“here,” you offer, handing the paper with your results on them over before stepping into the apartment with him.

“clean bill of health, hm?” seonghwa takes them with a grateful smile. his hand reaches for your lower back, securing against the satin there. his fingers wander enough to clue you in as to what he’s doing, and fortunately, he picks up on the lack of fabric underneath your dress within three seconds of searching. “did you walk here?”

“uber.”

“alone?”

“yes.”

“should have called me, i would have picked you up so you didn’t have to ride alone.”

ever the gentleman.

he leads you to the kitchen first, slipping away from your side as you reach the granite countertop, and two seconds later he returns to your side with a paper of his own.

“for you, my dear.” seonghwa twists so that his back is pressed to the counter, elbows finding purchase on the cold granite as he dangles the folding paper in front of you. you fall for his petty trick and reach to take it only for him to pull it out of your grasp at the last second. the smile he sends your way looks pained more than anything else, but you know that’s the kind of smile he wears when he’s really enjoying himself. “wanna earn it?”

“i thought we were supposed to see each other’s results before starting any of the fun?” you counter. your tongue catches between your teeth, and you raise a brow at him. oddly, playing the little game of push-and-pull puts you more at ease.

“then read my results so we can get on with it.” seonghwa mimics your expression and lifts one of his brows right back at you. you take the bait again, snatching the paper out of his fingers before he can yank it away again. he watches you with hyperfocus as your eyes scan the sheet, finding clean results across the board. you aren’t surprised; seonghwa wouldn’t offer to do this with you unless he was certain it would be safe for both of you. still, the gesture touches your heart a little, even if it’s a common thing he does with clients.

“happy?”

“haven’t fucked you yet, so no.” seonghwa pushes off the counter and steps away in the same breath, leaving you where you are as he leaves the kitchen. “so, will we be wining and dining before i have you? or shall we go straight to the bedroom?”

it ought to be criminal for seonghwa to look so fucking enticing in nothing but a plain tee and sweats.

“the position i have you in changes depending on your answer,” he continues. the words go straight to your gut, curling your insides with a wildly rampant sense of arousal at just the prospect of him fucking you.

“which do i get if i pick the wine and dine option?”

“on your knees over the couch as i fuck you from behind.”

you twist to face him better, hoping that your flustered state doesn’t show too much to his perceptive eyes.

“and the bedroom?”

“then i hope you’re flexible because i full intend to bend you in half so i can fill you up properly.”

your ploy to not let anything show yet fails right then in that moment. you can’t blink fast enough as your brain struggles to catch up and process what he’s just said, a subtle nod to what started this all in the first place. he’s doing it to test the waters a little and see where you stand in the scope of the scene, and you’d be lying if you said you were no longer interested. if anything, you want it even more now.

“is that more preferable, y/n?”

it’s the first time he’s said your name tonight, and it sounds like straight sin on his tongue.

“much.”

“already speechless?”

“kiss me and we’ll see who’s left speechless, hwa.”

seonghwa laughs loud and clear, tongue poking out between his teeth.

“i knew you’d be fun once the nerves weren’t in the picture.” he must realize you don’t intend to go towards him because he’s stepping back towards the kitchen in the next few seconds, finally finally closing the distance between your bodies properly. and unlike last time where he merely teased you with the idea of a kiss, he fully plants his lips over yours with your chin pinched between his fingers. it’s not a rough grasp either — enough to encourage you to stay put, but there’s so little force that he could not be touching you at all for all you know.

it starts soft and gentle, lips like a plush cushion over yours, and you can taste strawberries on his mouth like he’s just eaten them. then his tongue pushes over your lip and intrudes to tangle with your own. every other time a man has done this with you, it’s been in a fight for dominance and control over you, but seonghwa — he doesn’t fight back when you push your tongue over his. he continues to explore your mouth with his tongue, using his slight height advantage to angle himself better against you and lick over your palate. the sensation sends a shiver down your spine, and you use it as an excuse to fold your arms around seonghwa’s shoulders, intertwining your fingers at the base of his neck. his hands move at the same time yours do; long fingers trail down the exposed skin of your back before weaving through the strings keeping your dress together. he doesn’t remove the clothing yet though.

no, seonghwa keeps kissing you like it’s all he intends to do tonight, and you can’t even find the energy to complain because of how well he’s kissing you. it might be the lack of oxygen in your lungs though, because he also seems fully intent on running you completely dry of air before separating from your lips.

you do get a bit dizzy from it, in a strangely delightful way that leaves a pleasant fuzziness in your brain similar to a soft cotton. seonghwa pulls back to pant into your open mouth, inhaling the air you exhale with a dazed grin playing at his lips.

“having you tonight might open pandora’s box, baby. i’m already half-convinced that i want to make this a repeat occasion.”

“want you to fuck me,” you murmur through gasps of air. seonghwa drops his chin as he laughs, slightly damp black hair falling over his face. you can’t resist the urge to push it back and tug the locks lightly as you runs your fingers through it. it earns you seonghwa’s first moan of the night, a deep sound that makes your whole body thrum with equal parts arousal and excitement.

“keep that up and we won’t even make it to the bedroom.”

“then hurry up.” there’s an edge of whining to your tone, that of a petulant child not getting what they want fast enough, and though you expect seonghwa to retaliate and deny you, he simply secures a hand on your lower back once more, guiding you to the bedroom through the living room without complaint. that same hand moves up to tug the poorly drawn tie at your back. the fabric around your body falls loose in the next moment, warm hands replace the comfort of the fabric, and suddenly you are very nude in the middle of seonghwa’s bedroom.

he spins you around by the hips as he’s wrestling with the fabric now pooled around your ankles, lifting each foot up and out of the satin before taking a moment to strip himself down to his underwear. the bulge in his underwear is ungodly at best, already huge and he isn’t even full out of his clothes yet. and behind that, the thought of oh god i need that in me morphs into oh god he’s gonna be so deep in me with shocking haste. your mind catches on that thought, hangs onto it and clings to it desperately because you want it so badly. even as seonghwa returns to touching you and nudges you towards the bed, you’re still stuck on the thought of how good his cock is going to feel inside you.

you push yourself onto his mattress without any help from him, eagerness getting the better of you as you watch seonghwa pull his underwear off to reveal an impressive length underneath.

“hope you know how to use that,” you quip, if only to not seem so desperate for him.

“well, baby, i’m about to give you a demonstration with it that’ll ruin you for any other man.”

that comments border a bit too far on ridiculous, and seonghwa seems to realize that half a second later because he catches himself and falls into a small fit of laughter that has you laughing along with him.

“yeah, that was bad, i’m sorry,” he murmurs through laughs as he climbs up on the bed with you. you scooch back to the pillows, watching the way cock swings a little as he straddles your hips.

“sounded like a line out of a bad porno.” you’re still smiling when he kisses you again, as he smiles into your lips as well. it takes a lot of the weight out of the situation, makes it feel less serious and more personal in a way that you truly appreciate.

“how many bad pornos are you watching to know what they sound like?”

“a mediocre amount, i’d say.”

“let’s make a bad porno right now.” seonghwa nips at your lower lip, catching it between his teeth as he smiles down at you, and you roll your eyes despite still laughing.

“every bad porno ends in the girl not cumming.”

seonghwa clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“then i take it back. or i’ll take it as a challenge to make you cum on my cock. sound good?”

“y-yeah,” you whisper back, a little breathless with the way seonghwa’s fingers are moving lower and lower with each word. he reaches your entrance with two long digits and spreads your folds before dipping the first finger into your hole. thankfully, his fingers are thin enough for it not to be a discomfort, and you’re wildly grateful that he’s even taking the time to stretch you because of the sheer fucking size of his dick. and speaking of his dick, you find a thought somewhere in your head to reach down and grab hold of him. it earns you a sharp hiss, air rushing through seonghwa’s teeth as you close your fingers around the base of his cock.

you open your mouth to speak, but there’s no thought in your mind so you have no clue what you’re even intending to say. seonghwa interrupts anyway and presses his mouth to yours once more, at the same time his second finger slips in alongside the first. they dip out a second later with an embarrassingly loud squelch that signifies exactly how aroused and wet you are. does doesn’t stop to explain what he’s doing, but when his hand nudges your own out of the way, you think you’ve got a pretty good idea. it’s confirmed when he returns to scissoring his fingers gently inside your cunt. when you next put your hand on his length, it comes with greater ease, the slide of your palm against his cock assisted by your own aroused smeared over it.

seonghwa operates with a certain subtlety that doesn’t go ignored.

if you had to describe it, you’d probably echo his own words back to him, ones that he told you some time ago before this was even on the table.

you can work in sex but not be good at it.

seonghwa both works in it and is good at it, that much you can tell just from how much care he is taking with you and your body, reading the cues from your muscles and how you react to each touch. like when he curls his middle finger midway through a shallow thrust of his hand. you keen off the bed, back arching and spasming as he rubs over your sweet spot with the pad of his finger.

“oh my god,” you gasp against his mouth, and he eats the words right up with a breathy chuckle.

“can you sing louder for me, darling?”

he repeats the motion a second time. it has your moan breaking off into a high-pitched whine that devolves into a dry sob all in one breath.

“beautiful.”

his fingers disappear from your cunt only to push your hand off his cock, and you’re still a bit caught off-guard by the sound he pulled out of your body when he moves to press his tip to your needy hole.

“ready for me?” he asks before pushing in. you manage a series of nods, immediately moving your hands up to grab at the pillow under your head. “words, dear, i wanna hear you say you want my dick in your pussy.”

“i-i—” that just about renders you totally useless. seonghwa smiles more to himself than he does to you, and he shifts to grip the flesh on the back of your thighs. the next motion is so fluid and smooth that you barely realize what’s happening. one second you’re flat on your back, and the next seonghwa has your ankles folded so far over your waist that they’re nearly up over your head, knees resting just under your armpits.

“up to hold your legs in place for me?”

“y-yeah,” you exhale. he helps you secure your elbows around the backs of your knees, effectively folding you in half the way he initially promised to, and the static in your brain makes every thought stutter into nonexistence. “i’m ready for you to fuck me.”

“yeah?”

“want your cock in me, hwa, please, fuck me full of cum?” you swallow after speaking, eyes searching seonghwa’s expression as his pupils dilate a little further.

“i’ll fuck you nice and full, baby. promise.”

and that, well, you trust him to do exactly that. he’s given you no reason to doubt him.

but first he enters you with almost much patience, slowly sinking his length into your cunt as he secures his hands around your forearms. the pressure forces you further into the fold he’s tangled you in, but it’s not enough to be painful on any part of your body.

when he fully seats himself inside you, your walls are already flexing and pulsing a bit around his cock, adjusting to the new stretch as he rubs small circles against your skin. you try your best to focus on that — the way his thumbs rub in rhythmic patterns and his soft urgings for you to relax work magic as well. he’s wildly patient with you as you adjust, eyes not leaving your face for even a second even though you’re sure he’s having a hard time not moving at all.

“o-okay, okay. green. i’m green, can we continue?” you ask once the burn dulls to a manageable degree.

seonghwa’s response is to rock his hips against your ass. the first shift of his cock has you jolting, the suddenness of the pleasure from this position foreign to you. you half expected him to struggle to find a good angle, but of course, he’s good at what he does, and what he does is sex.

your moans encourage the movements; his thrusts are fully in time with your responses to his body, that subtle care for how you’re doing shining through.

“feel good, baby?”

“y-yeah, your — ah, your cock feels so good, hwa,” you whine back, face buried against your shoulder as more cries tumble from your lips.

“you’re so tight for me, y/n. you and your needy little cunt… you want my cum that badly, huh? want me to fuck you nice and full, have my cum so deep inside you, you’ll feel it for days after this.” seonghwa is damn good at pushing all your buttons as well, almost too well because he’s ridding you of every coherent thought imaginable with so much ease that you’re a puddle of mush on the bed without even being close to an orgasm. “i wanna see fucked full of my cum, baby. will you let me do that? let me fuck you so good you’ll have no choice but to get pregnant from it. i promise i’ll be good for you.”

“h-hwa, pl-please,” you whine. the word twist your gut in ways you’re scared to admit, it’s too attracted, the idea is too enticing, you want it so fucking badly, and yet seonghwa is the one begging for it. he is begging for you to let him do what you want. and he doesn’t stop there — his mouth really never stops running for a moment.

“let me breed you, baby. wanna fill you up so badly, want my cum spilling out of you, let me have that please? i’m fucking you so well, aren’t i? don’t i deserve it?”

“yes, yes, hwa, please — i’m gonna cum!”

“gonna cum on my cock just like that?” he hits you with a particularly sharp thrust, and you cry out, tears springing to the corners of your eyes as the pleasure begins to overwhelm you.

“cumming, i’m cumming, oh my god, h-hwa, hwa—” your cries turn to a drawn out moan that seonghwa practically punches out of your chest with his uncoordinated thrusts, little gasps and breaks to you voice as he fucks you through the euphoric high. “c-cum in me, please, want you in me, cum inside.”

“i will, baby, i promise. i’ll fuck you nice and full of babies, how about that?”

you writhe under seonghwa’s weight as he fully sinks his cock in your pussy, fully buried to the hilt as he shoots hot strings of cum inside you. it’s so deep that you really believe what he said about you having no choice but to get pregnant, like the contraceptive is useless against this because of how deep inside he is and how much cum he’s pumping into your cunt. yet you don’t want to push him off or get him out of you, you want him to stay exactly where he is without a doubt, so when he relaxes his grip on your arms, you release a pitiful whine.

“stay, hwa.”

“gotta get you some water, love.”

“it can wait,” you urge, pushing your lower lip out in a way you hope will convince him not to pull out yet.

“then i wouldn’t be much of a gentleman, would i?”

“be a gentleman and stay inside me for a few more minutes then.”

a smile twists his lips, another one that looks like he’s grimacing more than smiling, then he leans closer to your face to press a kiss to your sweat-stricken forehead.

“then i’m getting you water and making you something to eat.”

[slasherhaven]

slasher forehead kisses and/or braiding their hair!! (2nd one goes 4 slashers w long hair skendk)

The Slashers and Forehead Kisses (and Hair Braiding):

Thomas Hewitt 

Thomas’ heart melts whenever you take his face in your hands and press a kiss to his forehead.

You kiss his forehead and temples a lot since they’re parts of his face that his mask doesn’t cover.

He just thinks the gesture is so soft. Especially when he hasn’t started removing his mask around you, it’s like you’re at least showing affection to the parts of him that he does allow you to see. It just makes him smile.

If Luda May ever catches one of you giving the other a little forehead kiss, she will absolutely gush about it. As is her right to do so.

Tommy has pretty long hair, definitely a good length for a few little braids. And if you ask, he will definitely let you braid it. Sitting on the floor between your legs as you sit on the bed behind him, happily playing with his hair.

Michael Myers

You have managed to give Michael a forehead kiss or two but it’s quite the challenge. He’s much taller than you so you can’t really do it when he’s standing and you doubted he would allow the act of affection most of the time.

But once you started to feel more comfortable around him, you started to make moves in showing affection.

The first few times you kiss his forehead, the top of his head, or his masked face at all, it confuses Michael and you receive a curious stare. He slowly becomes used to it and stops reacting to it much at all.

Remember, if Michael isn’t stopping you, he probably doesn’t mind and might even like it.

His equivalent to a kiss on the forehead is a pat on the head. We take what we can get.

Obviously not all versions of Michael have long hair so this only applies to the ones that do.

While the idea of braiding Michael’s hair puts a smile on your face, you’re cautious about it because, well...it’s Michael.

He’s not great at caring for his hair in general so eventually he starts to let you detangle it for him, always watching you carefully. 

How you managed to tame Michael Myers enough to have him sit still while you got carried away and started braiding his hair it a miracle.

Jason Voorhees

Of course Jason loves forehead kisses! They’re so sweet, why wouldn’t he love them?

You gave him little forehead kisses to his mask from time to time before you were even dating, and they would always make him smile and blush.

They would just become a common little act of affection between the two of you.

Finally, when Jason removes the mask around you, he can begin properly returning the tender little kisses.

Brahms Heelshire 

Brahms loves forehead kisses, or kisses of any form.

You’ll often press a gentle kiss to the forehead of his mask or the top of his head when he was sitting down and you were just walking past him.

You can’t really kiss his forehead when he’s standing up since he’s just so tall.

He can’t help but smile when he rests his head against your shoulder and you kiss his forehead affectionately.

Before he takes the mask off around you, he gives you a few forehead kisses as well. Since he can’t actually kiss you, he’ll touch the lips of his mask to your forehead in his soft, tender moments.

Bo Sinclair

Bo isn’t normally the easiest person to give a forehead kiss too but you do so when he’s tired, when he’s falling asleep beside you.

He never really comments on it and if he did, he would probably scoff, complain, or tease. He’s just not used to gentleness and love like this, so he avoids addressing it as much as he can.

He also isn’t one to give you a sweet forehead kiss but he does it occasionally. 

Normally when you’ve argued or he’s been in a bad mood and snapped at you. Later on, probably while you’re already in bed, he’ll silently join you and press a kiss to your forehead, his version of an apology. He’ll know that you forgive him when you shift closer to his side before settling down again.

Vincent Sinclair 

Vincent loves forehead kisses, he just thinks they’re really sweet and tender.

When you press a kiss to his forehead, whether he’s wearing the mask or not, it just makes him feel loved and cared about.

He also likes to kiss your forehead from time to him, just leaning down and quickly pressing a kiss (or the mouth of his mask) to your forehead to express some affection.

Will often kiss the top of your head when you fall asleep against him, just smiling to himself.

Absolutely would let you braid his hair without complaint. He actually appreciates when you do it before he starts working with wax because it prevents him from getting wax in his hair. It’s just practical. 

But even if you’re just sitting around, enjoying a moment of peace, he will happily relax and let you play with and braid his hair.

Lester Sinclair 

Lester loves cute little acts of affections like forehead kisses, cheek kisses, or nose kisses. 

And you give them to each other all the time.

After a long day, the two of you will be sitting together, Lester’s head on your shoulder. And he just can’t help but smile when you press a little kiss to his forehead.

When you fall asleep and Lester is just overcome with love for you, he doesn’t want to wake you and so just leans over and presses a light kiss to your forehead.

Bubba Sawyer 

Bubba loves face kisses of any kind, he’s more likely to plant various kisses over your face than just one on your forehead.

You often kiss his forehead when he’s sad or having a bad day, it’s a sweet little gesture to remind him that you’re there for him. 

You don’t even think about it but it comforts him and makes him smile.

He’ll give you a little forehead kiss every now and again, giving you a joyful smile afterwards.

Billy Lenz

You kiss Billy’s forehead all the time and he loves it.

He loves any sort of affection like that. When you kiss his forehead, his cheek, the top of his head, when you hold him and play with his hair, letting him rest his head against your chest.

He always smiles and cuddles closer when you’re holding him, his head on your chest, and you lean down to press a kiss to his forehead.

He kisses your forehead when you’re asleep. If he wakes up in the middle of the night, he’ll kiss your forehead before settling back down. If he’s joining you in bed later, he will crawl into bed with you, kissing your forehead before laying down and falling asleep.

Asa Emory (The Collector)

While Asa isn’t one for ‘cute’ or ‘gentle’ acts of affection, he does actually give his fair share of forehead kisses, it’s just in his own way.

They’re almost like a reward from Asa, he knows how to use praise and affection the exact way you desire.

Each forehead kiss is a silent ‘good girl/boy’, and it always makes you smile.

(NSFW) A gentle, reassuring kiss to your forehead after a rough session with Asa always makes you melt. And at the same time, it grounds you and comforts you.

Jesse Cromeans (Chromeskull)

Jesse is a tall man so you’re not going to easily plant a kiss on his forehead but he can do so to you with ease, and he does. You get your fair share of forehead kisses from Jesse.

He will normally kiss your forehead after he’s fondly teased you about something, as if making it up to you. Because how can you be mad at him when he’s being so sweet?

You give Jesse most of his forehead kisses when he’s working (the less murder-y side of his work), because he’s sitting down and you can actually reach...

You’ll affectionately kiss his forehead before letting him continue to work.

Depending on his mood, he will just smile and let you leave, or he will grab you and pull you down onto his lap.

Otis Driftwood

Otis finds forehead kisses surprisingly...tender, and he isn’t too sure how he feels about that.

He would never stop you from doing it but it’s just so damn soft.

In the end, he doesn’t see the point of them. If you’re going to kiss him, you better do it like you mean it, and will often grab you to pull you back for a real kiss before releasing you again.

Braiding Otis’ hair?...he doesn’t like it.

He will mutter and complain the whole time you’re braiding his hair, but he isn’t going to stop you. He will continue to tell you how much he hates it and how stupid this is, but still allows you to do it...

You have him wrapped around your finger more than either of you realise.

Baby Firefly 

Baby is all for forehead kisses, any kisses really.

They’re normally more playful than tender but she has her calmer moments where kisses are more gentle and tender.

She more likely to kiss you on the cheek or even nose rather than forehead, but she thinks it’s sweet when you kiss hers.

Of course Baby will let you braid her hair, as long as she can do your hair in return.

Yautja (Predator)

Look at that forehead! So much room for forehead kisses!

And he loves them. It’s just so...human, just so you.

He just gets all happy whenever you plant a kiss on him, taking his face into your hands and pressing a kiss to the top of his head with a smile on your face.

He thinks you’re adorable. 

Will probably let out a little affectionate purr when you do so.

[alovher]

HI, BESTIES. LET’S TALK ABOUT THE POWER OF “I AM” AND WHAT IT MEANS TO LIVE IN THE END. ✨

***LOOONG POST***

So, I kind of had a breakthrough while listening to an excerpt of one of Neville’s lectures last night. I’ll link it below. I suddenly felt relaxed and comforted, I felt that I truly understood what it meant to live in the end and the power that “I Am” holds.

A method that Neville talks about is “I remember when…” and when I used it, it completely changed how I felt about my desires and helped me understand what it really feels like to live in the end. For example, let’s say you’re manifesting money. Here’s a direct excerpt from my script last night, “I remember when I used to struggle paying my bills on time, now everything is on autopay! Now, I don’t think twice about payments or spending money because I know I have more than enough for whatever I want. Now, I love spending money because I know that everything I spend comes back to me a hundredfold.”

I constantly say “I remember when...” now lol! Why did this change how I felt/thought about my desires? Because I realized that I largely thought about my desires as things that would happen in the future, not as something that had already happened. I realized that I was visualizing in future tense instead of past tense. And I think this is one of the many reasons a lot of you are so insecure, and why you so easily are upset by your current 3D. You look for evidence of your manifestation, you focus on what is happening outside of you instead of what’s happening inside of you. How can you search for evidence of something unfolding right now… if it has already unfolded in the past? And if this is true and you’re confident in who you are… why would you feel the need to search in the first place? This is where the importance of self concept comes in.

Your self concept dictates so much. How you think about yourself and your life reflects in your inner conversations, how you move, how you behave, how you interact with others, and so on. Once you have shifted your mind, your reality has no choice but to shift as well! Your 3D is a reflection of what is within you. You guys are aaaaalways worried about your current circumstances. I’ll tell you succinctly why they do not matter. Your current circumstances are a collection of past assumptions, right? The future has yet to happen and is a direct consequence of the things we assume now. Which begs the question, what do you believe now? And how will those beliefs shape your future? Do you understand that in your current physical reality, everything you assume to be, and everything you desire, is within you right now?

Thus the power of “I Am” comes into play. I know SATS is a very popular method amongst the community, I use it myself! But now that I really understand what I Am means, I can’t look at anything else the same. I encourage you to do your own research on it! You are one with God and God is one with you. If anything is possible for God, then, isn’t anything possible for you? Which is why you always see people say, “I am the god of my reality.” You are!

From Neville’s book, At Your Command: “Dwell upon just being and saying, “I AM”, “I AM”, “I AM”, to yourself. Continue to declare to yourself that you just are. Do not condition this declaration, just continue to FEEL yourself to be and without warning you will find yourself slipping the anchor that tied you to the shallow of your problems and moving out into the deep.”

Don’t try to apply logic to manifestation, it just doesn’t work that way. Whatever you desire, see it in your mind, and believe “I Am”. Speak it, have faith in it, drown in it. Now, that’s not me saying that you have to believe in every single thing you try to manifest. You’ll read success stories all the time of people saying that they didn’t 100% believe in something. And I think that’s okay. I don’t think you should try to force change nor should you manipulate yourself or the physical reality. What I really want to emphasize here is that… you are not separate from your desires, your future, the universe, God, or your fellow man. The more you know who and what you are (I Am), the more confident you feel in knowing that you and only you are the creator of your reality. If you believe this, then I think that’s the only belief that matters. What do you think?

From Neville’s Your Faith is Your Fortune: "Before you have any visible proof that you are, you will, from the deep conviction which you have felt fixed within you, know that you are; and so, without waiting for the confirmation of your senses, you will cry, 'It is finished!'."

So, to sum it all up: What does it mean to live in the end? It means there is no lack! It means you do not worry, you do not need. You don’t think or manifest from a place of lack, you do it from your “I AM” state… which is God. Never forget that creation is finished. You are (I AM) whatever you assume you are. Living in the end means there is nothing more to do because it is already done and it has already happened. It really is that simple.

I hope this makes sense and I hope you enjoyed this read. If you have any questions that were not answered here, please ask. I obviously don’t know everything, these are my current opinions. 💓

***Link to the Neville lecture.

[wri0thesley]

A Well Rounded Education (2): Grading Boundaries (Fem!Reader x Nanami Kento, 7.5k)

series synopsis: You are a teacher’s aid to teacher Gojo Satoru, training to be able to take over your own class next year by shadowing and helping him out. Gojo does not make things easy for anybody.

chapter synopsis: the father of one of your students requested a meeting to ask about ways of improving his son’s grades. after working with him for a few weeks, nanami wants to thank you for helping yuji out in his own personal way. 

NSFW. AFAB reader, fem pronouns. oral sex (male on female and female on male), massage, nanami is just a gentleman after toji tbh.

(a well rounded education m.list and navigation)

1.

You oversleep the next morning and for the first time since beginning your work as Gojo’s teaching aid, the other man is at his desk before you manage to rush into the classroom. He’s relaxed, arms behind his head, feet up on the desk – and when he sees you, he gives you a cheery wave and a grin.

“Found this on the floor this morning!” He says to you, using his thumb to flip you something small and round that you only manage to catch through sheer dumb luck. You stare down at the thing you’re cradling in your palm; one of the round buttons from your blouse, that you guess you missed after Toji had left and you’d had to try and pull yourself together.

““S-sorry about that,” you babble, your mind working eighty miles a minute to think of a proper excuse. “I-it got caught on my jacket when I was getting ready to leave last night, I wondered where it had gotten to--”

“How’d the meeting with Tsumiki go?”

“Huh?” You ask, blinking down at the button still, trying to fight the heat that is crawling up your face as you shove the accusing object into the pocket of your neatly tailored jacket. “Oh! It wasn’t Tsumiki. It was Mr Fushiguro, actually. M-Megumi’s father?”

There’s a pause in the air, almost as if it’s rippling with tension. When you look up, Gojo is staring at you, his eyes implacable behind dark lenses.

“I see,” he says. “That’s unusual.”

“I gave him all the paperwork, explained the probation and everything,” you hurry to say, almost tripping over your words. You don’t like the way he’s staring at you, and you find yourself shifting from foot to foot, hoping you don’t look like someone who let their student’s father rail you over their boss’ desk. “Megumi’ll be back in school next week, and hopefully nothing like this will happen again--”

“Mm,” Gojo says. You’ve never heard him sound that serious before, ignoring the chance to poke a little fun. His voice usually pitches and modulates, laughing, before he cracks some kind of inane joke that makes you and half the class wince. “I’ve got a meeting tonight, by the way. I was hoping you’d sit in with me.”

“Please don’t palm off more of your dirty work on me,” you say to him, as you go over to your own little makeshift table in the corner of your room and begin to rifle through your bag for the things you’ll need for the day. “To-- Mr Fushiguro was kind of scary, honestly.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that!” Gojo waves your worries away with a hand, immediately dismissing it. “No, it’s Yuji’s dad – he wants to talk about his grades, I think? I said I don’t think it really matters, and he got really quiet and kind of angry on the phone with me.” Gojo shrugs. Of course Gojo said something like that. You’re not sure Gojo himself has ever worried about something in his life. “Honestly, he’s a. . . businessman type. Very serious! I just want someone to diffuse the tension a bit!” Gojo grins at you. “So you’re my human shield!”

Right.

Far be it for you to think that Gojo might have an educational reason for wanting you to sit in on this meeting. Still . . . you really like Yuji. You know that sometimes his inability to understand things frustrates him – he’s constant energy, and his mind just can’t keep up with the pace of the rest of him. You’d like to help where you can! And you know that Gojo’s probably not going to be able to offer any helpful advice – his classes might work for some kids, and Yuji does really like him, but that’s a boy who would probably benefit from some individualised attention and someone a little quieter.

You don’t like the idea of him with a father who pushes him academically and doesn’t care about his other achievements. Biting your lip, you nod, busying yourself with laying out the pens on your desk and flicking through one of your training books to see if there’s anything about meetings with parents. This one, you think and hope, is definitely not going to end up the same way yesterday’s meeting did.

There’s a kind of nervous energy in Yuji all day. He drops his pen, he shoots you agonised looks until you come over to check his work, and as everyone is milling out to go to lunch, he comes to stand in front of you, kicking his toe on the floor. You smile at him, seeing how he’s vibrating, rocking on the balls of his feet – hoping that the smile might at least calm him down some.

“My Dad’s meeting with Mr Gojo tonight,�� Yuji eventually blurts. Without Megumi in class to tamper down some of his more bombastic nature, Yuji’s voice pitches and wavers. “I’m-- Mr Gojo doesn’t care about grades, but my Dad’s like, ‘you should apply yourself more, you have it in you’ and . . . and I guess I’m worried?” He brings a finger to his chin, dwelling on the thought. The way he says it, it’s almost like he’s not usually aware of the idea of ‘worry’ – oh, to be a twelve year old boy!

“I know,” you say, after a proper time has elapsed to make Yuji think you’ve really dwelt on the situation. You reach into your own bag to pull out the carefully prepared lunch you have in there – you could go to the staff-room, but honestly, you’re still feeling a bit wobbly after last night’s events and you don’t want to go around into the hum of people who’ll gather you up into bubbles of small talk. “If it makes you feel any better, I’m sitting in on the meeting too.” You hope your smile is reassuring. “It’s not going to be all doom and gloom, I promise.”

That actually . . . does seem to soothe Yuji.

“My grades are really bad,” he says. “I just . . . I’m not smart, y’know? Megumi knows all this stuff, and I’m just . . . dumb.”

“Being good at school stuff isn’t everything,” you say to Yuji. “You’ve got your own talents. Look at you on the sports field!” He blushes in the way young boys do when they’re being complimented by anybody, a kind of awkward ‘oh, shucks, don’t make me think that I’m good at anything’. You smile. “I’m sure your Dad understands that too.”

“Oh, he does!” Yuji’s eyes widen. You feel a little lock around your chest loosen, just a bit. There’s hero worship clear in Yuji’s eyes now. “He just thinks I should live up to my . . . what’s he call it? Full potential!” He twists his lip, and then leans in, conspiratorially. “He doesn’t like Mr Gojo. He doesn’t think he’s serious.”

Despite yourself, your lips curve into a smile. You aren’t going to trash talk your colleague to a kid that you’re in charge of, but all of the other staff just seem to roll their eyes and let Satoru Gojo get on with whatever he’s doing because apparently he was a prodigy at college or something. It’s nice to know at least someone is on your side, even if you’ll hopefully only ever see him once or twice during your whole year here.

“Don’t worry,” you say to Yuji. “I’ll try and handle it. Now, you should go! All the other boys look like they’re about to play a game of football--”

Yuji’s eyes brighten and he grins, turning away immediately, mind quickly flitting to something more pressing. He shouts a goodbye and a thank you to you even as he’s racing out of the door, almost too fast to be believed.

2.

Kento Nanami (Itadori is his ex-wife’s name, he tells you with a sigh, but the name that Yuji was born with and he’s reluctant to have it changed) is very obviously a businessman, in a well-pressed grey suit and a navy shirt, a yellow tie tight to his throat. He’s wearing suspenders beneath the jacket, an expensive watch on his wrist, and a pair of small glasses perched on a sharp nose. A solemn face, sculpted jaw. He has cheekbones that you think could cut fucking diamonds into pieces, a wave of carefully styled blonde hair over a proud forehead--

What the fuck is going on at this school that it seems like all of the dads are so hot? You do your level best not to look at him too much, as Gojo introduces you and he shakes your hand. He looks at you with his eyes narrowed just a touch; you think he’s trying to get the measure of you, and whether you’re just going to be here to back up Gojo. There’s an air of tiredness to this man that suggests he will not take any of your colleague’s nonsense, and that thought bolsters you when he puts down his briefcase and neatly folds his hands on his lap, looking from you to Gojo.

“I want to talk about Yuji’s grades,” he says, “and how we can help him improve them.”

You like him already. The way he says ‘we’ instead of ‘you’ – the withering gaze that he sets on Gojo, as the white-haired man stretches his arms out above him.

“I told you on the phone,” Gojo says. “They’re just grades--”

“Grades that will follow Yuji throughout his career in this school, and eventually to high school, and eventually to college,” Nanami’s voice is very sure of itself, cutting through Gojo with ease. “I just want to ensure that he has the best chance possible. I want to make sure he’s living up to himself.”

Gojo – fucking Gojo – stifles a yawn behind his hand, and you see that Nanami’s hand flexes on his thigh (wow, his hands are big). You cut across before the two of them can come to blows.

“Yuji’s a bright boy,” you say. “He just needs . . . a little extra help. Someone to sit with him and explain what’s going on, maybe just go over the material again.” You give Nanami a nervous smile. “He’s not the only one in the class, honestly. I-- Mr Gojo’s teaching methods can be--”

“Innovative—” (Gojo says).

“Erratic—” (Nanami says).

“Unusual,” you decide on, in the end, “and not every child is going to thrive.”

“He won’t let me ask them to move into Miss Utahime’s class,” Nanami says, wearily. “Yuji is very fond of Mr Gojo.”

(You know that, and so does Gojo; the white-haired man gives a cocky grin to both of you).

“I enjoy teaching Yuji,” you say. “He’s good-hearted, enthusiastic – he throws himself into everything he does.” Nanami’s tired eyes seem to brighten behind the glasses at the compliment to his son, his lips lifting at the corners in the briefest twitch of a smile.

“He does,” Nanami says, and it’s clear from his tone that he’s very proud of Yuji. You feel bad for thinking he might be the kind of pushy, demanding father that you’d been warned you may encounter in this profession. With Nanami in front of you, it’s clear he just wants the best for Yuji and is concerned that Gojo might not be that ‘best’. You can’t blame him. You often think Gojo behaves more like a child than half of the kids in the class. “Yes, those are all of his best qualities.”

You nervously shift your gaze to Gojo, who is waiting for your next move.

“I’d be happy to work with him,” you say, eventually. “Maybe set up some kind of . . . drop-in, for students having trouble with the work, over free periods? I won’t make them, of course, but . . . I think my methods and Mr Gojo’s are very different, Sir.”

Nanami’s shoulders relax just a touch. He stands, nodding, taking your hand to shake it.

“I don’t doubt it, Miss,” he says – and as he touches you, a frisson of electricity seems to pass between the two of you. His hands are big and surprisingly soft, and as he grasps your hand you can suddenly sense strength behind the grasp. You hope that your surprise doesn’t register in your face, as he turns and inclines his head slightly at Gojo (Gojo does not get a handshake, you do not fail to notice).

“I hope that it helps,” Nanami says, as he leaves. And honestly . . . you do too.

3.

Nanami asks to schedule a meeting with you, two weeks after you’ve begun working with some of the lower-achieving children in the class. Yuji’s grades have been improving, slowly and steadily – the boy looking at you with a grin when tests are handed back with letters far higher up in the alphabet than he’s used to getting.

“Ah, I can leave you to deal with that one,” Gojo says, grinning at you when he hears about it. “You’re the one working miracles, after all! I think Mr Nanami would just be displeased to see me sat with you, and I’m not gonna complain about not having to deal with a guy like that!”

You’re inclined to agree. So you watch Gojo leave that afternoon blithely, like he hasn’t got a care in the world – his bag is full of essays that need to be marked over the weekend, but somehow you think you’ll have a stack pressed into your own hands on Monday morning, more than a little crumpled, as Gojo insists you should get used to doing some marking yourself.

You wait for Nanami with your head in a book, steadfastly ignoring Gojo’s desk and sitting by your own table in the corner of the classroom instead. Last time you were alone with a student’s father in this room, you got to know that desk far too intimately.

Nanami is exactly on time, the second hand of the clock just ticking past the twelve as he knocks on the door and you call for him to come in. Gojo does have an office, and he’s said you can use that if you want – but the few times you’ve been in Gojo’s office, you’ve been overwhelmed by the chaotic mess that the man surrounds himself with. The classroom, if nothing else, at least looks peaceful.

Nanami sits across your table, well-mannered and polite, as you put your book down and smile.

“You wanted to talk about how Yuji’s doing?” You ask him. “It’s only been two weeks, but I think we can already see quite a bit of improvement--”

“Yes,” he says. “I think we can.”

Nanami does not heap you with praise; you get the impression that he’s not the kind of man who heaps anybody with praise. You get the impression he’s the kind of man who gives you an approving look, a pat on the shoulder, a nod – you find that you’re craving that approval yourself, looking at him across from you.

“I look at his homework sometimes,” Nanami says. “He’s getting a lot more of it himself, now. Not pulling his hair out at the dining table. You’re . . . you’re really doing a very good job, you know.”

Your insides fizz at the compliment. Gojo doesn’t give them out, either – but you’re the kind of person who occasionally needs to be told they’re doing the right thing, in order to motivate them to carry on. Nanami’s compliment carries a weight in your heart that lodges there like a secret.

You can’t remember the last time someone said you were doing a good job.

You and Nanami talk through the grading rubric, the other topics that are set to be covered before the end of term – how you’re trying to get Gojo to be a little more academic in his lessons, but it’s not working. You mention that lots of the other kids seem to be thriving under having a chance to go back over the material that your mentor occasionally skips and side-steps around, imparting his knowledge in his own particular way. Thoughts of Gojo make your mind swim with fatigue.

You hadn’t realised, until you started talking about it, but you also can’t remember your mind not being consumed by thoughts of your work at any point in the last few weeks. You’re always worrying about something; your mind always rushing from one possible bad outcome to the next. The kids, your training, Gojo, the school, the heavy weight of choosing a career where the next generation depends on you--

“You look tired,” Nanami says, his face twisted in sympathy. “Have you been getting enough sleep?”

You haven’t, really – thoughts of the class, and your work, and whether you’re even cut out for this as a career have been haunting you more and more recently, as you watch Gojo stumble irresponsibly from day to day. You feel like you get home, do some work for the next day, go to sleep, and immediately go to work again with nothing in between. You look at Nanami, who’s all concern, and you know you shouldn’t, but--

“I’m just getting stressed from everything happening all at once,” you say, forcing yourself to smile. “I have a lot of assessments coming up, reports I should be writing, reports that are written about me. Ah, those ones-- those are by Mr Gojo--”

“Ahh,” he looks incredibly sympathetic at that one.

“There’s just,” you falter. “A lot. And if I don’t come to work feeling my best and supporting them all, I feel like I’m letting the kids down, but I also just feel kind of bone-weary aching all of the time—”

Nanami’s hand reaches across the table, taking ahold of yours. His palms are warm and rough, and the thumb that rubs soothing circles against the base of your own is comforting. You sigh, eyelids half flickering closed.

“I shouldn’t have said anything to you,” you murmur, the small moment of intimacy (when you���ve spent the last two weeks feeling like you’re lurching from place to place and nobody is paying attention) sending a much-needed hit of comfort to the marrow of your bones. “You shouldn’t have to listen to my problems.”

Nanami’s lips tilt.

“I’d say it’s the least I could do,” he says, drily, “after everything you’ve done for Yuji – and after you’ve had to deal with Mr Gojo.” The look he gives you is quietly private, a shared in-joke between the two of you that makes you smile in response. His response almost makes you forget that he’s touching you, and though the touch is innocuous, you also know it’s unprofessional--

You stare at his hand on yours. It’s the same arm that he wears his expensive wristwatch on, and the sleeve of his suit jacket has ridden up to reveal just a hint of the shape beneath, a prominently veined wrist. Your throat goes dry looking at it, as you think of how strong he had seemed that time he’d shook your hand--

He’s looking at where the two of you are touching, too – a faint spot of red fading in high on his cheekbones. He coughs, awkward, but doesn’t move his hand. He swallows.

“You’re very pretty, you know,” Nanami says, and your body seems to flood with heat. You should say something about how inappropriate that is, thank him for coming to see you and the sweet words he’d said about how you were helping Yuji along, but somehow you can’t bring yourself to do it when he’s looking at you like that. “It sounds very hypocritical coming from me, because anyone who knows me will tell you that I don’t get enough of it myself– but you should rest more. Relax.”

You can imagine him ramrod straight behind a desk, eyes narrowed behind spreadsheets and numbers. You can definitely imagine him tired and drooping, working too hard. You smile again, helplessly, the look apologetic. You’re not very good at things like that.  

“You look stiff,” he says. “Here--”

He stands. You’d forgotten how tall he was, the breadth of him – he unbuttons his jacket neatly, laying it over the back of the chair. Without that, the width of his shoulders is really apparent. You don’t realise you’re staring until he makes a little noise, a ‘hmph’ of amusement, eyes not meeting yours, thumbs unbuttoning his cuffs and pushing the sleeves up to his elbows.

He’s behind you.

“I’ve been told I’m good at this,” he says. “Big hands, I suppose?”

You’re about to ask him what he’s doing when those same big hands are suddenly on your shoulders, the same thumbs that were just rubbing tender circles onto your hand digging into your shoulder-blades in a massage that you feel down to your toes. You don’t realise you’ve let out a noise and relaxed back into the massage until Nanami lets out a low hum that you think is mirth.

The noise you make as he works out that persistent knot in the back of your neck is near-on pornographic, and both of you know it – heat rushing to your face, Nanami clearing his throat. If somebody walking by had heard that – if they came into the classroom, to see you getting a massage from Yuji’s father--

How do you keep getting into these situations? Nobody warned you about this part of working in a school. Why do his hands feel so fucking good on you, fingers digging into your skin – you moan again, rolling back into his touch.

There’s a clipped quality to his voice when he speaks;

“Wait a second.” Your eyes flutter open as his hands leave you, watching in distress as he walks to the door. If you’re expecting him to leave, you’re surprised when what actually happens is that he twists the lock, so nobody can walk in on the two of you doing something so. . . incongruous with both the classroom around you and the knowledge of what exactly the relationship between you is.

He gives you another one of those half-smiles and you feel a familiar throb in your lower half. Oh, this is unfair – he’s so handsome, so unruffled, so gentle as he takes back his position behind you and touches you again.

“This would feel better on your bare skin,” he murmurs, the words ghosting along you as a politely worded request, and obediently your fingers deftly unbutton your blouse without hesitation. This time, you’re glad that there’s no clatter of lost buttons on the floor – this time, you’re able to push it off your shoulders yourself. Nanami sighs as you let the fabric drop, pooling behind you in a crumpled mess. One of his fingertips traces your spine, raising gooseflesh on the sensitive skin.

“Don’t you have someone at home to do this for you?” He asks, voice soft and low like velvet, as he kneads the skin, tension draining out of you more and more with each passing minute. The question is worded carefully, but both of you know what he’s asking.

“Just me,” you say, as his hands slide forward, thumbs digging into your shoulders but fingers resting over your collarbone, his hands so big on you.

“Pity,” Nanami breathes, but it doesn’t sound like he’s particularly unhappy about it. Your breath catches as he moves from your shoulders, further, further, fingertips brushing the swell of your breast in your (sensible, today) bra. He leans forward, his lips against the shell of your ear. “You can tell me to stop if you want me to.”

“I don’t want you to,” you find yourself saying, and his thin lips curve into a smile that you feel.

“I’m glad,” he murmurs – and then, fingers diving beneath the cups of the bra, kneading the soft flesh, the plush of your  body. You’re relaxing bonelessly into his touch when one finger brushes your nipple, sending a frisson of electricity right to the place between your thighs. Your bra straps are slipped off your shoulders, a slight lean forward so he can unclip the thing and let it fall onto the ground. Nanami sighs, almost reverent – when he moves his hand from your chest, you feel their absence keenly, a soft noise of dismay escaping you.

“Pull your chair out,” he says. You do; the legs scraping across the floor. Nanami himself moves so he’s no longer behind you, coming around to the front – casually, unhurriedly lowering himself to his knees in front of you. He reaches up to his face and removes his glasses, laying them neatly on the table to one side of him.

His eyes drink you in and you find your skin prickling with heat. You should be embarrassed; you shouldn’t be here at all, actually, alone in your classroom (again!) with someone’s father (again!), willing to let them look at you and touch you and more (again!). But Nanami reaches in, touching you so gently, fingertips and thumbs delicate as feathers as he strokes over your breast and waist and stomach. As he leans forward and licks a slow, agonising lap over your nipple until it hardens and pebbles, your entire body thrumming with desire. As he sucks it into his mouth, teeth nipping just hard enough at the bud that your body lights on fire, before he kisses a line across your sternum to give the other nipple the same treatment.

He slides his hands past your waist, unbuttoning and unzipping your pencil skirt with one hand, the cotton pulled down over your thighs. Nanami sighs again, cupping your hips, nudging your stockinged knee with his cheek.

“You’re lovely,” he says, affectionate, and it feels so intimate that your heart beats too fast against your chest. “Can I--?” Hands against the sides of your underwear, sliding over you in a way that leaves hot trails of fire behind him. You should be embarrassed that he can clearly see the wet patch, the way the sodden fabric clings to the petals of your sex – but when he’s looking at you like that. . . You can’t make yourself feel it. You nod, sighing, lifting your hips from the seat of the chair to assist in the removal of that particular garment. A light touch on your inner thighs has you spreading your legs further for him, his eyes drinking in the slick folds, the needy glint of your wetness.

He brings his face closer, taking a long breath in, inhaling your scent. The wash of his breath across you on the exhale fans across the length of you, your clit aching with need to be touched, paid attention to. Nanami takes his time, though – your thighs are kissed, first, his lips lingering on the soft skin, suckling gentle love-bites into the flesh. Occasionally, the briefest flash of his teeth, scraping across the sensitive area – always followed by a soothe, a kiss, a lick. Every one of them makes your body bloom into warm needy desire; you can feel how wet you are, know it must be soaking the chair beneath you even before Nanami has used his mouth on you properly.

He huffs out a chuckle as you whine, your hips tilting towards his mouth.

“You want me to use my mouth?” He asks you, his tongue gently lapping at one of the places he’s kissed. “On you, sweetheart?”

“Mm—mmhmm,” you say, breathlessly, not entirely sure that your mind is able to form any coherent sentences with Nanami knelt between your thighs. He places a chaste kiss on the mound above your clit, pulling back.

“Use your words,” he encourages you. There’s a stern dominance to him; coated in fondness, yes, but . . . an order, nonetheless. “I can make you feel so good--”

“Please use your mouth on me,” you whimper, soft as a mouse. Your hand flexes onto the seat of the chair beneath your thighs, and Nanami smiles against your soaking cunt.

“Good girl,” he praises, like liquid honey – and when his tongue finally, finally makes contact with your sex, the other hand has no choice but to curl into his hair as you let out a needy mewl, all of the heat that’s been building up within you since the very first moment you laid eyes on Kento Nanami coming to a point in the crux of his lips and tongue lapping hungrily at your slick.

Your lashes flutter closed, your thighs trembling, as Nanami sates himself on the taste of you, making you relax helplessly into his talented mouth. He knows exactly what he’s doing; the flat, broad strokes against the folds of your cunt, the lower dip of his tongue as he flirts with stretching your hole open with it, the teasing flick of it as it dances, dallies with the idea of your swollen clit.

You can hear the wet sounds of him between your legs, suckling and kissing and licking and lapping – not all of it’s from your slickness, you know, but an embarrassing amount of it is. His tongue pushes into your hole, thrusting a few times, imitating the actions of fingers or cock – and your thighs flex, almost squeezing him between them, your fingers tugging on his hair with a soft squeal of surprise escaping you.

The noise just spurs him on. He fucks you on his tongue for a few more thrusts, before dragging the flat of the muscle through your folds, forcefully parting them (his mouth feels so hot, there), until he can reach the throb of your clit. He uses his tongue to roll the bud, swirling the tip of the muscle around it, drawing patterns over the place that all of your hot, desperate need is concentrated. Your other hand jerks into his hair too, your hips thrusting against his hungry mouth  as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks. You almost white out for a minute over the sheer overwhelming sensation of Nanami’s lips sucking on you, the displacement of air – you’re panting out breathy, whimpering noises, Nanami groaning as he edges you further and further towards your peak.

Fingers on your inner thigh. Nanami’s index finger, liberally coating itself in your slick and Nanami’s spit, dragging down the length of you that isn’t currently being utterly ravaged by Nanami’s lips--

He pushes one lone finger into your entrance, and that pushes you over the edge.

Your walls flutter around him, sucking him deeper inside your plush walls. You bite so hard into your lower lip you think that you might bleed, but it only serves to quiet the moan that escapes you by a little. Nanami groans against you, pumping the finger, sucking on your clit, guiding you over the peaks and mounds of your orgasm as he continues to enjoy the taste of you gushing into his mouth, overwhelming with the syrupy sweet stickiness of just how good you taste.

He guides you, too – with careful, slowing licks, lazier pumps – through the weak aftershocks and trembles of your peak, as they come to a slowly twitching halt. Your eyes are glassy, lips swollen from bits, as he places another chaste kiss over your sensitive clit and pulls back. His finger pops out of you with a wet gush that makes you feel so embarrassed at your own neediness you can barely stand it, but between your thighs Nanami is straightening up, a smug glint to his tired eyes.

“There,” he murmurs, standing, drinking in your quivering body, the slick on your thighs, how dark and satisfied your eyes look as you gaze up at him, half-woozy from the pleasure. “Don’t you feel a little more relaxed, now?”

You’re afraid if you speak you will simply slur your words, your tongue feeling unfamiliar in your mouth. You try and focus on Nanami instead – unfairly tranquil, aside from the wet of his chin, the damp spot darkening his collar. He places the finger that was formerly buried inside you into his mouth, the glint of arousal on it consumed by him with a tilt of the head as if he’s savouring the taste.

You can’t help but notice that there’s an outline of something putting pressure on the fabric of his slacks, there, between his thighs – something that looks hard, and stiff, and uncomfortable. You blink at it through a hazy mind as Nanami goes leans over you, gently taking hold of your chin, checking that you’re alright.

“C-can I help with that?” You manage, only a little bit garbled. Nanami’s eyebrows raise in surprise, a light pink flush to his cheeks – what does he take you for? That you’d let him eat you out so well that your toes curl and then just let him leave without seeing to his own issues?

(It’s a confidence boost, honestly – knowing that he’s hard because of you. You know that this isn’t the kind of man who would fuck you on his tongue in his son’s classroom if he didn’t find you attractive, but still . . . Someone like Nanami, with those cheekbones and those lips and those shoulders, wanting somebody like you?)

“I-- ahh--” He seems nervous about it, a little flustered, clearly not expecting you to offer something like that – but then, you raise one hazy hand and gently pet his crotch through the fabric and he whistles through his teeth, the organ giving a welcoming throb beneath your hand. You swallow at how it responds, the size and heat of it.

“Please?” Plump lower lip caught between your teeth. “I’d like to repay the favour.”

He swallows, raising a hand to loosen his tie. You see the bob of his throat as he moves, pulling out the chair he was sat on before, parting his own knees.

“I’d like that,” he says, and that’s all of the encouragement you need to sink from the chair onto your shaking knees, half-crawl towards him until you’re situated between his thighs. Your hands reach up to his waist, undoing his belt buckle carefully. The heat of his cock radiates through the fabric, brushing against your arm as you undo the belt. As you undo the button. As you tug at the zipper, the noise of the teeth indecently loud. He sighs himself, a hand cupping your cheek. “You’re so pretty,” he says, repeating his earlier compliment. His eyes on your face make you feel hot and flushed, the way he watches you eagle-sharp as your smaller hands reach into his underwear to pull out his already hard cock.

He’s not as big as Toji was, but that doesn’t mean he’s not big. His cock is elegant, a light upward curve, the head ruddy pink and slick with precome – and as you lean forward and let your tongue trace the slit of it, as you taste that same precome in your mouth, he groans quietly. He brings the hand not on your cheek up to his mouth to muffle the noise, and you can’t help but pout.

“Please,” you say. “I want to hear you--”

A pause. He drops his hand, taking a chest-deep breath. His fingers slide across the apple of your cheeks – you know he must be able to sense how warm you are, how shameless and brazen you feel.

You give the head of his cock dainty kitten licks, getting used to feel of him – getting used to the soft breaths he keeps making, the way that the hand on your cheek moves to knit into your hair. You know you’re teasing him, but the way he looks down at you like you’re the one doing him a favour has you all giddy and light headed.

You envelope the head in your waiting mouth, tongue messily lapping at it. It’s been a long time since you’ve done something like this – judging from the sigh escaping Nanami’s lips, the light thrust of his hips, though, you’re not doing too bad of a job on it.

You take him a little further, willing your mouth to open wider. Your tongue is still moving against him sloppily – tracing the veins of his shaft, licking fat stripes where you can manage to get it around. You feel a trickle of drool escape your lips as you widen your mouth a bit more, so much you can feel a light ache in your jaw.

“Fuck,” Nanami breathes, deep and ragged. “Fuck, that’s a good girl.”

The praise just eggs you on further, makes you want to take him deeper – makes you want to win more noises said by that dark, low voice. You push too far and have to pull back a little, your makeup smearing (you’re glad you’d foregone a darker lipstick today), your eyes watering. But you’re determined, and after you’ve managed to draw a choked breath around the cock in your mouth, you’re back on it, kissing and sucking and licking as best you can. Every so often, Nanami will groan from above you, his hips jerking, the hand in your hair guiding you just a little to the left. The other hand comes to cradle your face, so tender and careful with you.

“You feel so good,” he says, soft, like he can barely believe where you are. “Your mouth is so good, sweetheart--”

The flat of your tongue is dragged over the slit, his taste flooding your senses. You squeeze your thighs together, the friction thrilling even considering how slick your cunt still is (you’re grateful that your skirt is dark, because you know you must have soaked through your underwear).

His hips are moving more regularly now, but you can tell that he’s still holding back – that he doesn’t want to roughly fuck your throat, though he easily could. You look up at him with your eyes dark and wide, your lashes trembling, trying to get across that it’s alright for him to do that without having to stop hungrily licking and sucking at his cock. He sees your gaze, your lips wrapped around him, your cheeks hollowed in your attempts to impress, and he breathes out a shaking exhale.

“Is it really okay?” He asks you. “I don’t want to hurt you--”

You hum your affirmative around his cock and his eyes roll back into his head for just a moment, groan escaping his parted lips again, as he begins to rock his hips into your mouth. You gag around it at first – so big, so thick, even though he’s not going that fast yet – but as he begins to pick up his pace, your mouth gets used to moving in tandem with his thrusts and the tugs on your hair.

The ache in your jaw begins to be pleasant; you begin to feel like you’re meant to have it open that wide, that the bump of his cockhead against the back of your throat is right and perfect. His face is flushing, his breath getting shaky – whistling in his chest.

His chest. You stare at the bare collar above the buttons of his shirt, the lean shadows of his collarbone – you think, judging by the broadness of his shoulders, he’s probably built beneath there. You’d love to find out. You’d love to be somewhere other than in the classroom with this man, somewhere where you could learn his body by heart, where the floor beneath your knees isn’t quite so hard--

“Fuck,” he hisses, fingers tightening so hard that you groan, your throat vibrating around his cock. “Sweetheart, my good girl, I’m gonna--”

You hear the warning in his voice and you suck harder, swirl your tongue faster, coaxing him forward – his abdomen flexes under the shirt, his cock juddering in your mouth, pulsing as your mouth suddenly fills with the hot, wet, salty and unmistakable taste of Nanami’s come--

You keep sucking. You keep licking, swallowing pump after pump, draining forth every single drop of his release that you can until he’s shuddering and his cock is softening, his head thrown over the back of the chair to reveal the tempting column of his throat.

He’s taking deep breaths, great heaving ones that his shoulders move in time with, as the last few thunderbolts of his release travel through his body and he groans in the pleasured way that someone who has orgasmed their worries away does.

Nanami’s hand in your hair eases, his breaths evening out from the shakes and groans. His fingers are quiet and affectionate, as you pull back, swallowing the final few drops of his release. He looks down at you with those intense eyes half-lidded, his face briefly free of lines and stress and worry. He sighs, hand diving into the jacket still hung on the chair behind him – when the hand emerges, he’s holding a handkerchief, that he brings up to your face like a lover.

Tenderly, he wipes a bead of his come from the corner of your mouth. The action is so warm, so fond, that you can barely breathe for looking up at him. You feel like you’re knelt at some kind of altar – that Nanami had prayed to you, and now you are responding with your own supplication.

“Are you alright?” He asks you. “Your knees? Your mouth?” He’s so gorgeous; unfairly picked out under the classroom lights, like he doesn’t belong here at all. In another world, he’s avenging like an angel with a weapon in his hand. Now, he’s softly rumpled with his shirt unbuttoned and one of his suspenders fallen down his shoulder, his knees spread wide.

“Yes,” you breathe. He smiles again – he does not grin. His mouth is just a light uptilt, as he leans forward and brushes his lips over your own.

“Good girl,” he murmurs again, the words sending another shiver down your spine. “Do you need some help getting dressed?”

You rise onto unsteady legs and Nanami is there, supporting you carefully, rising with you. He rescues your skirt, your bra – deft fingers re-doing buttons, catching eyes with hooks, zipping up until you look – if not immaculate – at least presentable. Someone who had seen you this morning would probably recognise that your skirt is creased and your blouse is crumpled, that your hair is falling around your face--

Nanami’s fingers capture those strands too, tucking them back behind your ear, smoothing them out. Every single sweep and caress of his fingers makes you feel like you’re about to break into pieces from how soft you feel, how cherished. It’s a stark difference to how you had felt after Toji had swung out of your classroom, leaving you prone and leaking his come.

He leaves you, after you’ve regained your balance, to get your bag and coat, to grab the book you had been reading before this meeting had commenced – and he sets himself to rights with a calm, assured aura. If someone looked closely at him, you think perhaps they’d notice the tie not quite as tight, the hair not quite as neatly swept from his brow – you yourself can barely take your eyes off him. Is there something in the water in this town?

He grasps his briefcase, clips his glasses into the top pocket of his suit jacket instead of placing them back on his nose. His entire being seems to have lost tension, his eyes not quite as tired, his shoulders not quite as strained. As he finished, he comes to stand beside you – an arm gallantly curving around your waist just loosely enough that the touch could be read as friendly and not romantic. As the two of you walk across the classroom, he says quietly;

“You really should relax, you know. You don’t have anything to worry about. Yuji adores you, and I’m sure the rest of the children do too.”

(Your cheeks heat, the compliment warm and convincing in the sonorous bass of Nanami’s voice).

“Even Gojo isn’t permanent,” he says. “Anybody would be lucky to end up with you.” A cough. “That’s . . . as a teacher and in other ways.”

He pauses at the door, unlocking it with a final click that feels like he is saying that this little adventure has truly come to its natural end. His eyes linger affectionately on your face, a brief touch of hesitation colouring his features – before, once more, he leans in and brushes his lips against yours with a feather-soft touch that has you gasping in surprise against his mouth. The hand not on the briefcase takes your own hand, fingers entangling, and if you had thought your face was warm before, you’re quickly taught that you didn’t know what heat was.

He draws back a little breathlessly.

“I hope you’ll continue working with Yuji,” he says, sincerely. “And perhaps, if it’s agreeable to you-- perhaps we could schedule a catch-up meeting in a few weeks? So I may see. . . how things are progressing?”

“Of course, Sir,” you say, words very breathy.

When you get home tonight, and probably for the next few weeks, you’ll take a really good look at the grading rubric. You know. For the kids. Not because of Nanami’s sharp cheekbones and wicked tongue and the glint that had been in his eye when he had pressed his mouth against your heated core – not because of how his cock had felt heavy and thick in your mouth, and how it would feel pressed inside of you--

Nope. Not at all.

Definitely for Nanami’s son.

[doeeyeseddie]

i’ll make the moon shine just for your view

this is not a 5+1 fic, but it IS a fic about 5 times buck and eddie find comfort in each other. but mainly, it’s a birthday gift for @seacoloredeyes, happy birthday manon!!! i love you and i hope you love this 🥰❤️

Some calls are harder than others, and this one was particularly gutting - a car crash with multiple fatalities, some DOA but some not yet. Eddie will never get used to losing someone on a call, to doing everything you can and it still not being enough. They’re silent on the ride back to the station, the mood in the Engine subdued. Eddie stares out of the window and wishes the end of the shift was closer, so he could go home and hug Christopher. It’s the only thing that helps him feel better after a call like this, he thinks - but then Buck’s knee nudges against his and Eddie exhales. He nudges back until their legs are pressed together from hip to ankle and gives Buck a half smile. Buck’s gonna suggest they call Chris when they’re back at the station, and they’ll do it together, letting Christopher’s laugh push away the images in their minds for a while. It’ll be enough to tide Eddie over until morning, and he feels gratitude for Buck wash over him, gratitude to be understood, to be known like that. He leans over until their shoulders press together too, and feels a little lighter.

~

Buck winces when he goes to dry his face and the towel rubs against the swollen skin around his eye. That’s gonna bruise like hell, and it’ll look like he got into a fistfight. He finishes drying off and dresses in his uniform pants and t-shirt, then pulls the zip-up hoodie on on top because it’s warm and soft and doesn’t hurt when he puts it on, so it at least doesn’t make him feel worse, though it doesn’t do much to improve his mood either.

When he gets upstairs to the loft, it’s dim and quiet, so everyone must be in the bunk room. Buck doesn’t feel like lying down, not with the way the skin around his eye is throbbing, so he heads for the kitchen instead, planning to look for something to cool the bruise with.

“How’s your face?” a familiar voice asks behind him, and Buck only just manages not to jump.

“Jesus, man, you can’t sneak up on me like that, especially not on Halloween.”

Eddie laughs. “Were you hit in the face or the ear? I wasn’t quiet on the stairs.”

Buck rolls his eyes at him but even that hurts, so he winces again. Eddie’s face immediately flashes with concern.

“Did you put ice on it?”

“I was just gonna get that,” Buck says, but Eddie’s already rummaging through the freezer for an ice pack.

He pulls one out, wraps a clean towel around it and steps up to Buck, pressing the cool package to his face gently. “Hold that and sit down,” he says, “I’m gonna get the pain relief cream.”

Buck bites down on his smile and takes a seat at the table, sighing at the relief the ice pack brings. Eddie returns with a tube of pain cream and sits down next to him, eyes intense on Buck’s face in a way that makes him equal parts want to squirm away and lean in closer.

“I’m fine, Eddie. It’s just a little bruise.”

Eddie hums. “Let’s put this on it anyway, it looks like it hurts.”

It does hurt, and Buck can’t refuse Eddie anything, so he lowers the ice pack and sets it down on the table.

The legs of the chair Eddie was sitting on scrape across the floor as he pulls it out of the way and steps in between Buck’s legs. Buck stops breathing for a second and then forces himself to continue so Eddie won’t notice. He’s just doing this to put cream on Buck’s bruise. He cares, but he cares as a best friend. Buck can’t make this weird just because he recently discovered he may want to kiss said best friend.

Eddie cups his good cheek with one hand to tilt Buck’s head slightly, and starts applying the cream with the other hand, fingers soft and careful.

He’s close, and he’s so gentle that Buck’s heart squeezes painfully. Shit. When he looks up, their eyes meet and catch, neither of them looking away. Eddie’s hands are still on Buck’s face and Buck aches to touch him too, to reach out and pull him all the way in, to hold him.

But Eddie drops his hands and steps back, reaching for the ice pack next to Buck and handing it back to him.

“You should keep cooling it for a while,” he says. “Take this while I get you a new one.”

Buck nods mutely and swallows. He’s not sure what just happened.

~

Eddie hates funerals. Granted, so does everyone else, probably, but...they’re hard, for him. This is nothing like Shannon’s funeral, obviously, but Eddie’s been tense all day. Firefighter Sullivan from the 124 died in a structure fire a few days ago, and the A-shift from the 118 have collectively decided to pay their respects. Eddie didn’t know him well, they’ve only spoken a couple of times, but it’s always horrible to lose one of their own. And to see his wife and two teenage kids in the front row, knowing exactly what they feel like - it sucks.

He can’t focus on what any of the speakers are saying, just keeps staring at the coffin covered by the American flag. Eddie pulls on the collar of his shirt, feeling too hot in his dress uniform. His mind flits from Shannon, to the Army, to the very real possibility that something like this might happen to someone close to him one day, never settling on anything for long, a carousel of dread.

From next to him, Buck shoots him a worried glance and Eddie stops fidgeting, trying to pull himself together. He breathes slow and deep, counting to five with each in- and exhale. He hasn’t had a panic attack in a while, and he’s not even sure that’s what’s happening here, but he can’t risk it.

“You okay?” Buck whispers. He’s intimately familiar with Eddie’s panic attacks, and his elbow nudges Eddie’s lightly as he shifts closer. “Or do you need to get out of here?”

Eddie knows that Buck’s not just asking that, that he’d come with him, no questions asked, and the knowledge of that alone eases some of the tension in his body.

He’s known that he’s in love with Buck for a while now, but Buck still keeps finding ways to make Eddie’s heart beat faster and double down on his feelings. It’d be great under different circumstances, but Eddie still hasn’t worked up the courage to tell him, too scared he’s misreading the signs. So it’s hard, feeling like he’s bursting at the seams with love for Buck.

“No, I’m okay,” he tells Buck, eyes catching on Sullivan’s grieving family again and making his stomach feel lead-heavy. But it’s more sympathy now, and a little less dread. “I think.”

When the bagpipes start to play and Eddie has to swallow thickly, Buck reaches for his hand and entangles their fingers, squeezing tightly. Eddie doesn’t look over, but he squeezes back. And holds on.

~

Nothing is different the night it finally happens. They’re at Eddie’s house, like countless nights before, they watch a movie with Chris and read him a story at bedtime, then head to the kitchen to grab a couple of beers.

Buck’s standing with his head in the fridge, telling Eddie about an article he read earlier on what space smells like (hot metal, apparently), when Eddie says, apropos of nothing: “I love you.”

And Buck hits his head on a shelf in the fridge, making everything on it rattle loudly, a jar of pickles falling over and nearly rolling off the shelf. His instincts take over and he somehow catches it in time and closes the fridge before he turns around, finding Eddie right up in his space, a worried expression on his face and already reaching out to cup the back of Buck’s head where he hit it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” he says, and his face is adorably flushed. Buck still can’t do anything but stare. “Does it hurt?”

“I’m good,” Buck manages to get out, blinking a few times. “I- Eddie, what?”

Eddie closes his eyes and drops his hand, but stays close for now. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you like that.”

“But you meant to tell me?” Buck asks. He lifts a careful hand and grabs a handful of Eddie’s t-shirt to stop him from going anywhere. Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes and Buck smiles, heart beating in his throat.

“Yeah,” Eddie says, and there’s that smile he gives Buck so often, soft and private. “I did. I’m...I don’t have a speech prepared-”

“Eddie,” Buck interrupts, tugging on Eddie’s t-shirt until Eddie takes a stumbling step closer, bracing himself with a hand on Buck’s chest. He can probably feel Buck’s heartbeat like that, and it only beats faster at the thought. They look at each other for a long moment, then Buck tips forward until his forehead rests against Eddie’s. He watches as Eddie’s eyelids flutter closed and closes his own eyes too before he continues. “I don’t need a speech. I just...need you.”

Eddie’s nose brushes against Buck’s, and there’s a smile in his voice when he asks, “You need me?”

“You and Christopher,” Buck says, lifting his free hand to the side of Eddie’s neck. When he strokes his thumb along Eddie’s jawline, Eddie shivers. His hand is warm on Buck’s chest, the other one now holding him by the waist. “If you’ll have me.”

Eddie leans back just enough to look Buck in the eye. “You know Christopher thinks the world of you. And I kind of just told you how in love with you I am, so…”

“Well, you didn’t say it in so many words,” Buck teases, and Eddie shoves at his chest but doesn’t move away. “I love you too, though.”

~

Not much later, they’re on Eddie’s couch. It’s too small for two grown men, but they’re making it work, Eddie thinks. Buck’s sprawled out, half sitting up against the armrest with Eddie between his legs, lying half on top of him, and he’s finally, finally kissing his best friend. Has been for the past hour or ten, and he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

Buck smiles against his lips and Eddie pulls back.

“What?” he asks.

Buck shrugs, lifting a hand to cup Eddie’s cheek, and Eddie leans into it. “Just happy.”

“Me too,” Eddie smiles. He takes Buck’s other hand and laces their fingers together, marveling at how well they fit. Buck watches him with a smile. “We should do this more often.”

“What, hold hands?”

“We fit, don’t you think?”

“Oh,” Buck says with a gleeful smile, “you’re secretly a romantic, aren’t you?”

“Says you! Did you forget you told me how you once rented a hot air balloon for a date?”

“Well, it’s not a secret that I’m a romantic, I’ve just never seen that side of you. Will I get to see it a lot?”

Eddie lifts his hand to Buck’s face, running a careful thumb over his birthmark. “Maybe. But it’s also not just about being romantic, you know? I like holding your hand, or when you hug me, I like being close to you, because…you make me feel safe. Like I’ll never be alone, like you’ll always be there to have my back.”

“And you’ll have mine,” Buck says, pressing their foreheads together again. Eddie’s pretty sure there are tears in his eyes. “You say that as if it’s not the most romantic thing anyone’s ever said to me.”

Eddie chuckles and shifts a little until he can rest his head on Buck’s shoulder, his ear right above Buck’s heart. “Can we just…stay like this for a while?”

Buck kisses Eddie’s forehead and squeezes his fingers where their hands lie entangled on his chest, his other hand sweeping warmly up and down Eddie’s back.

“For however long you want, Eds.”

[rayofsunas]

valentine | diluc [4] finale

A/n: excuse my little break, lol. I’ve been busy with homework and life tbh, but I’m back!! thanks to those of you who checked in and reassured me breaks are necessary, you really made me feel better thank you <333 andddd, this last chapter whoop whoop! I had so much fun with this, I’m kinda sad ;-; but I’m really excited to start my next mini-series hehe. I’m not sure who I’m going to do next, but I’m leaning towards scaramouche or xiao hmm. let me know what you guys think!! I hope you’re having a beautiful friday/day wherever you are! stay safe <333

Summary: the ever so stoic diluc thought he was being secretive when sending anonymous letters and gifts to you during the week of valentine’s day but turns out everyone in mondstadt knew it was him, though thankfully had tight enough lips to not spill the beans to you. kaeya is of no help, so you go seeking answers yourself.

Parings: Diluc/Fem! Reader (for my other mini-series, there will be some gn ones!)

Warnings: valentines (yes, I’m late, shoot me), fluff, swearing, OOC DILUC BECAUSE I CAN’T WRITE FOR HIM (you’ve been warned)

Word count: 4.9k (omg- I’m so proud of this chapter too, enjoy!)

Kaeya was the younger brother of Master Diluc. The anonymous man writing to you said he’d had a brother, you assumed younger and now that you knew which was the older of the pair, everything was pointing to the man being Master Diluc.

You couldn’t lie you were frazzled. Could it really be Master Diluc writing to you? You of all people? You weren’t special in any way, no matter how many times Victoria praised you for your intelligence and skills. You didn’t feel so smart right now though, seeing as though Master Diluc had completely slipped your mind as being the writer; you felt ignorant. 

Now that you were walking quietly behind Master Diluc, it made sense. The encrypted words, expensive and thoughtful gifts; Cecilia’s, Qingxin imported specially from Liyue, hell you were even gifted a gorgeous silver bracelet, a red jewel in the center that looked very similar to Diluc’s vision dangling by his left thigh. And although both Captain Kaeya and Master Diluc were well off in terms of Mora, it was your understanding that Diluc was the wealthiest person in Mondstadt, he could afford such commodities anytime he wished.

Should you ask him or would you just embarrass yourself? 

No, you should respect his wishes... If he was in fact the anonymous man, he’d wanted to stay that way for reasons he’d already stressed to you. The least you could do to return the favor was respect his decision and not force him to come clean... No matter how curious you were. 

By the time you were at the Knights headquarters - you have your own place, headquarters is just better to sleep it when you have early mornings - the cool night breeze had set in as well as the silver, twinkling stars. You stood awkwardly at your door, eyes frantically looking anywhere but those red hues. Master Diluc seemed to also be doing the same much to your comfort. At least he was feeling similarly to you. 

“I hope this doesn’t get you in any kind of trouble.” Master Diluc suddenly said, hand sheepishly going to scratch the back of his neck. 

You tilted your head, confused. “Hmm?” 

He blinked at you, eyes going wide for a minute; embarrassment it seemed. “Do Knights not have strict curfews anymore?” He asked. 

Ah, the curfew rule. You had been a young Knight when that was implemented, though, in recent years, it had fizzled down to nothing really. All thanks to a few rule-breakers, a few years back. Then rule had been made for Knights, Captains, everyone. Though now it mostly applied to Knights in training, obviously no one followed the rule. 

“Oh, no, the rule was changed a while back,” You said. “Young Knights in training kept ignoring the curfew and it became a hassle for the Captains to go search them during bed checks at headquarters, they pulled an invisible plug.” A look of distaste appeared on the young man's face, you frowned in response.  

“Of course,” He muttered. “Inefficiency at its best.” You watched silently as he folded his arms across his chest and looked off into the distance to his left. He seemed to be trying to control his anger and irritation, or at least keep it locked down in front of you. Though he was failing, the scowl was evidence on his handsome face. And almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, he’d seemed to have regretted it. He snapped his head back to look at you and rushed to apologize. 

“I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect-”

You waved a hand out in the air interrupting him. “I agree,” His face relaxed. You what? “The curfews helped us all be more responsible. There was less slacking off and rogue Knights, that’s for sure,” He watched in astonishment as you laughed it off as if he hadn’t just offended you and your fellow Knights.

“My Captain still follows the rules, to an extent. The trainees are required to live at headquarters, they can’t leave until they’re eighteen or get promoted to a higher position. Knights like me or higher, on the other hand, that rule doesn’t apply to us, unless there’s a far away commission the next morning.” You explained. Master Diluc seemed to visibly relax, you assumed he was glad to hear someone still followed the rules.

“Don’t tell my captain I said this, but he’s a real old-timer; that’s why he follows your rules.” You laughed again, a small smile formed on the redhead's face, you were surprised and caught off guard by that. 

“A good man.” He approved, you laughed again. Archons, was that music to his ears. 

“That he is.”  

Diluc enjoyed the silence settling in, that’s for sure. He only realized how late it had gotten until after he’d watched you yawn, eyes closing slightly as your body seemed to shrink with each inhale and exhale; you were tired, and no doubt had duties tomorrow. How ignorant of him to keep you up like this, even if he had more of a chance to speak with you and be in your presence. 

“I shouldn’t keep you any longer,” You heard him say, watching as he took a few steps back. “I’m sure you have a busy day tomorrow.”

That was partially true, you did have an early day tomorrow. You weren’t sure what your duties would be though, maybe paperwork, more training, a commission or two? You would check with your Captain. But jeez, why had things slipped your mind so easily today? 

“Yes... I nearly forgot.”

He chuckled, adding, “You seem to have forgotten a lot today.” You giggled tiredly. 

“I agree. I promise, I’m usually not like this,” You said. “I did have a question, but it’s quite late...”

A single eyebrow quirked up, he shifted to lean on one side, cockily almost. “So, you’ve remembered?” Shit. 

“Yes and no?” You replied, realizing, either way, you’d gotten yourself in a mildly sticky situation. 

Okay... At Dawn Winery, it had completely slipped your mind. But it seemed the fresh air and break from Victoria’s amazing story had helped you regain your memory. You remembered your question now, it was in bold, red words right in front of you. But you’d decided to not ask him, not until he came forward and revealed himself if he really was the anonymous man he would. Maybe you’d give it a week...?

“Interesting...” Diluc thought to himself, you cringed to yourself, fearful of being caught lying, he seemed to be onto you. “When you remember, will you come find me?” He teased. “Stop by for a drink one time; tea, wine, juice, anything. My mother really enjoyed your company...”

Master Diluc knew. He had to of known you were lying. He was far too intelligent to not know. 

“I- Sure.” 

-

Diluc had never thought he’d see you in his presence so soon, that’s for sure. He thought he’d only see you when he decided to confess, which he was still working on. He never thought he’d be walking you home, but you had been great company and what kind of man would he be if he let a woman walk home by herself? Even if you were a Knight. 

He was a bundle of nerves the whole way even after he arrived back home, to greet his mother was oddly still up. 

“Mother, you’re awake?” He asked, stepping into the house for the last time tonight, eyes scanning the room to see the fireplace lit and crackling, the older woman sitting on an armchair. And would you look here, his annoying brother was present as well. That caused Diluc’s face to crease in annoyance. “And you’re here. Why?” He spat, the Cavalry Captain rolled his eyes. 

“I don’t have a bedtime,” She teased, Kaeya smiling. Those two were like two peas in a pod once together, his mother was definitely the more reasonable and tolerant. “And leave your brother alone, it’s from my understanding that he helped you with that girl, Y/n.” 

Diluc rolled his eyes. Of course, Kaeya would tell their mother, but the real question was, had he told others? He definitely wouldn’t be surprised if the entirety of Mondstadt knew of his crush on you, all thanks to his annoying little brother. 

“It’s no one's business, but mine,” The wine tycoon snapped. Victoria’s face scrunched up in anger, eyes glaring daggers. “Sorry...” He apologized, moving around the couches and armchairs, to finally sit on the loveseat not occupied, his hands went to his face, elbows rested on his knees.

“So,” Kaeya started, earning a testing look from the woman across from him. A look of warning. “You walked her home, anything else happen?” Kaeya couldn’t help but smirk to himself.

“What’re you implying?” The eldest snapped. 

Kaeya shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know, did you maybe tell her, kiss her?” Victoria hissed, nearly launching herself over the arm of her chair to swat her youngest on the back of his head. He groaned in annoyance. 

“Not yet.”

“Are you going to?” The cryo user probed. 

Archons, Kaeya always had too many idiotic questions. Nosy bastard. Of course, he’d tell you, eventually.

“I’m working on it...” Kaeya chuckled to himself, Victoria just stared at the redhead with sadness. She felt bad, you were a great young woman, she saw that. Hell, she hadn’t even known you for an hour, but she already approved. She wanted this to work out for her eldest, he’d always been the one with the most burdens on his shoulders it seemed, he always picked up the entire world's troubles and carried them on strong shoulders. He deserved someone good, someone, like you. “Now, don’t you have better things to do? Like getting drunk? Go away.” He sounded like a child all over again, Victoria thought. He was unfolding right here, he was still her little boy after all. 

Kaeya frowned, seeing how bothered his brother seemed. An eye focused on Victoria who was mouthing for him to go upstairs, he decided to listen for once surprisingly. With less sass in his step, Kaeya found himself wandering towards the stairs and eventually disappearing up them.

As soon as the trouble maker was gone, Victoria shifted in her seat so she could fully face her eldest son. 

“Do you love her?” She suddenly asked, Diluc’s heart seemed to speed up significantly. “It’s alright if you’re not sure, I’ve been there many times-”

“Yes, I do.”

He watched with an embarrassed hue on his face as his mother smiled a genuine, bright smile. She was happy for him, proud, she approved. That’s all he’d wanted. He wishes his father could meet you, he’d like you, he was sure of it. 

“That’s great. I’m very happy for you,” She said proudly. “You should tell her. She’s a great woman, she’ll accept you with open arms.” She reassured though Diluc could only shake his head. 

“You cannot be so sure.” He mumbled sadly, Victoria clicked her tongue with the shake of her head, leaning forward in her seat. 

“I can,” She said, matter a factly. “She reminds me of myself when I was younger, though a little less reckless and in a much better headspace. She’s sure of herself I can tell, even though she looked quite frazzled in your presence; but all young women get like that around my sons.” The woman added with a teasing smile, Diluc just waved her off nonchalantly. He didn’t care about any other woman, you mattered most, above all. 

“You have nothing to worry about,” She reassured. “I’m not sure if her feelings are romantically driven, but I can tell she respects you a great deal. Poor thing though, she was so nervous she looked like a shaking leaf... I’ll have to help her feel more comfortable, after all, she might as well be my future daughter-in-law.”

Diluc nearly froze. Archons, his mother was something else... “Mother, I haven’t even told her I’m the one behind the letters-”

“Nonsense!” She said over excitedly. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about marrying her?” 

“Maybe even a family...?” He knew she was getting antsy for grandchildren, though he couldn’t understand why so soon. She wasn’t even in her fifties yet, and he and Kaeya were barely into adulthood. She’d had a hard enough time raising two helions at such a young age and then by herself after their father's death, so why was she resilient for him to start a family? He’d never understand mothers' need for grandchildren... 

“Marriage and children are two different things... I haven’t given much thought towards children,” He said honestly. “I always assumed I’d either be alone for life or marry for political reasons... Father had always said Jean was perfect for me,” Victoria frowned at his statement. “And children well... they don’t particularly like me.”

“Nonsense. I knew your father for ten years or so, and let me say, he’d be proud of whatever decision you make. Jean, Y/n- he just wanted you happy,” She explained wholeheartedly, words filled with sincerity. “And let me just say, no other child will look at you with such love and adoration, other than your own. They’ll hold you in the highest regards, then it won’t even matter if other kids like you or not. The only validation you’ll need is from your own child,” Her eyes glittered with joy, a smile forming on her beautiful face. “I can say that with one hundred and ten percent honesty and certainty, from experience with you and Kaeya.”

Diluc’s heart warmed at that. She always knew what to say and he always felt this great sense of pride from her whenever talking about being their mother. She enjoyed it so much, she was proud she’d taken the offer ten or so years ago, the best decision she’d ever made. 

“I much like your father, only want you happy. If being with Y/n without marriage or children makes you happy, then those things don’t matter to me.”

He flashed a warm smile, that nearly left her starstruck, nearly frozen like an icicle from Dragonspine. “Thank you, mother,” She nodded, cheeks flaring red. 

“I think one day... if things work out, I will ask her to marry me,” 

“And if she wanted children, I’d be alright with that too.”

“I’d do anything for her.”

-

“Captain, good morning.” You exclaimed walking into your Captain's office the next morning, taking note of how he was sitting behind his mahogany desk, reviewing what looked to be paperwork and a map in front of him. 

He briefly looked up, dark eyes meeting yours, before pointing to the seats opposite side of the desk. “Come take a seat, Knight.” You nodded following orders, falling into quick, silent steps, choosing to take a seat in the left chair. 

You waited for your orders, eyes staying trained on your Captain. He eventually spoke. “I see you’ve been making quick work of your commissions here in Mondstadt,” The older man noted, you just nodded, appreciating the praise. “Five a day and you’ve managed to fit in training for the younger Knights I see.”

“Yes, sir, I believe the daily training is important.” You admitted honestly. 

“Yes, it is,” He agreed, finally meeting your eyes only after he turned the map around so it was properly facing you. “Allow me to cut right to the chase,” You gulped nervously. Were you being blacklisted? Given a higher position, maybe Captain? What was going on? You slowed your brain, remembering he was going to explain to you what was going on in a moment. But that didn’t stop you from worrying. You were a capable Knight, your stats showed that you just hoped you weren’t being let go. 

Easing your nerves, your Captain began speaking again. “Acting Grand Master Jean has recently been notified that the Eleventh Fatui Harbinger, Childe, has stolen the Geo Archons’ Gnosis.” Your heart dropped to your stomach. Shock, fear, confusion was present in every form within you. Those names and titles sounded familiar, they weren’t unknown figures in Teyvat, not at all. It was a custom for all types of schooling in Teyvat to be educated on all seven of the Archons and nations, and groups such as the Fatui with their elite branch of soldiers, the Harbingers. Plus, as soon as the Knights in training passed the required tests and became official Knights, they would be taught separately from what was usually taught; learn about much rarer and dangerous types of monsters, learn every detail of the Eleven Fatui, about any assassins and people to be wary about on commissions and travels between nations.  

One question you had was why in the world were the Harbingers stealing the Archons Gnosis? You’ve heard that Lord Barbatos’ Gnosis had also recently been stolen by La Signora, Eighth of the Fatui Harbingers. So, what was the reason for the Geo Archons to be stolen as well? 

The more obvious answer to that question was they were probably stealing their powers to harness themselves. They were strong enough though, they would only be selfish to steal a literal god's Celestial power and take it for themselves. Greedy, you noted.

But you couldn’t be sure because one of Alchemy's prominent figures, an elder, who closely worked with Albedo in the past, had recently been kidnapped by a Scaramouche, Sixth of the Eleven Harbingers. Teyvat was lucky Albedo hadn’t been taken hostage, it was decided he would be under watch for now. 

You were seeing an obvious pattern here. A devious, worrying pattern. But now that an alchemist had been kidnapped and was under their care, maybe even lack thereof, one of the worst possible scenarios became evidently present and more aware. 

Alchemy could do many wonders, one is to make new forms of life; plants, animals, etc. If the pattern stayed true that they planned to be stealing all the Archons Gnosis was true, then they could possibly be creating an artificial army of sorts, with the usage of life forms created by Alchemy. This wasn’t good.

“This isn’t good.” You muttered, hand going under your chin in thought. Your captain nodded, though you missed it, too deep in thought. 

“You see the issue I presume then,” He said, you nodded in response. “Great. You’ll be a fast learner in the kind of environment you’ll be placed in.” You hummed, wondering what in the hell he was talking about.

“Acting Grand Master Jean and I, have cleared you to venture into Snezhnayan territory to gather intel.”

What? You’ve never traveled outside of Mondstadt, ever. Hell, you’ve never even been into Liyue, the closest nation to Mondstadt... Snezhnaya was very, very far away. Pretty dangerous territory, so you’ve heard. Even the locals had a hard time managing the severe storms and frigid cold. 

“Sir, I’ve never been to Snezhnaya before.” You explained, eyes filled with confusion. 

“Do not worry,” The man reassured. “You may take a small team with you if you please. The Knight’s cartographer, Maria, is very skilled at what she does, she’d be a great help,” He offered. You agreed, you’ve never met Maria personally, but she’d be a great help. “Any other cleared Knight, you may take with you on your journey,” You nodded. 

“But like all Knights, you’re exceptionally skilled in the medical field and your stats are practically off the chart; you’re an elite soldier, Knight. There’s a reason Acting Grand Master Jean requested you do this.” You froze, questioning your ability no longer. You would accept this mission without a fuss. Acting Grand Master Jean choose you for this mission specifically. She trusted you, she valued your skills and assets and was acknowledging them. This was any Knight’s dream. The man’s praise, no, Acting Grand Master Jean’s silent praise and approval meant worlds to you... You wished you had the time to thank her personally, but it was from your understanding you would need to leave immediately. 

“Thank you, sir,” He sent a firm nod your way. “I assume I would be leaving as soon as possible. So, could you pass my thanks and gratitude to the Acting Grand Master?”

He allowed a smile to spread across his aging face, head-nodding gently, though the smile had disappeared soon after. “I will.”

You bowed your head out of respect. “Thank you.” 

Your Captain continued to clue you in about the journey to Snezhnaya, that you would be sent as a spy since you’ve never had any run-ins with any of the Harbingers, therefore your job as a spy would be easier. He allowed you to pick a small team of your choosing, to accompany you into the cold. Though, reassured him you would manage fine with just Maria, the young cartographer. You didn’t want to burden anyone else, especially if this journey was much more trying and dangerous than originally thought. 

He came to a standing position, you mirrored his movements as he walked you to the door to see you out.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before Valentine's day, I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though, this was your duty. You wouldn’t complain because you had no reason to.

“I’m sorry to have to bring you this news before the day of love,” Ah Valentine's day... You’d completely forgotten that was coming up... “I’m not sure if you wanted to spend the day with a loved one...” He trailed on, eyes filled with an apologetic tint. He was truly sorry to bear you this bad news of sorts, right before the day of love. You understood though. 

“I had no plans, so it’s quite alright, sir,” You said turning to him as soon as you were standing under the door frame. “This mission is of the utmost importance. It’s my duty as a Knight to accept and complete the tasks asked of me.”

He nodded, hand raising to salute you, once he was done you mirrored him out of respect. “Very well put, Knight,” He praised again. “Safe travels on your journey, keep me updated with weekly reports.”

“I will, sir.”

-

As soon as you had left your Captain's office, you were quick to find the cartographer Maria, she’d be helping you find your way through Liyue and into Snezhnaya. 

It was to your knowledge that around this time of year, the snow in Snezhnaya was even thicker and harder to trudge through, you needed to leave as soon as you could.

Eventually, you found Maria in the library, grabbing various types of books and maps and throwing them into a large brown leather satchel. Great. It seems as though she had already been let in about the mission before you; you could get going much sooner.

Now, you were on your way to your own house to grab any necessities not left in your room at headquarters; clean clothes, Mora, etc. As soon as you made sure you had enough Mora to buy food or anything else you’d need along the way, and clothes for a warm journey, though making sure not to shoulder too much, you were on your way to the gates with Maria now at your side.

You didn’t make it far out of the gates of Mondstadt before you were being stopped, surprisingly by Master Diluc. 

He looked to be in a hurry, out of breath as he came running up to you and Maria. When he spotted the young woman at your side, your sword on your hip and backpack on your shoulders, he realized he might’ve caught you at a bad moment...

“Apologies, you seem to be on a mission...” He said meekly.

You waved your hand, smiling back at Maria who had wandered towards the gates to give you two privacy. Looking back at Master Diluc, you said, “No worries, I was just heading out.”

“May I ask where?” You tilted your head to the side, confused. He caught onto your confusion and clarified by saying, “I just wanted to tell you something,”

It must be important to come bounding after you like he just did, unfortunately, though you were leaving...

“Oh,” You glanced back at Maria waiting by the shared entrance and exit, face buried deep in a newly made map. “I’m actually headed somewhere important, I don’t think I’ll be back for a while,” You noticed his face drained paler than it already was, but you decided to ignore it. He probably wouldn’t clarify what that was about. “You could write me a letter and leave it on my windowsill for me for when I return-”

“I’m the one behind the letters.” He interrupted, face regaining color, but this time, his cheeks tinted red, matching none other than his wavy hair kept back in a ponytail.

Your heart stopped beating. “What...?”

“Please don’t make me repeat myself...” He whispered, glancing around. You followed his eyes silently, noticing people had begun to silently convene. 

You weren’t sure if they knew that he was the one behind the love letters. You assumed not.... they were probably just shocked to see the young wine tycoon out in public, nonetheless talking to a woman.

“Oh,” you said, ignoring that his face seemed to deepen in worry again. Unbeknownst to you, all Diluc could think was, she’s disappointed it’s me. Why else would she react that way? She hoped for someone else...

But you opened your mouth, and shared words that reassured him, made him feel less ashamed. “Thank you for telling me. I um- I’m very happy it’s you,” He glanced up from the ground, red eyes meeting yours. A genuine smile was on your face, and for once, a genuine smile came to his nature. “I’d secretly hoped it was you.” You admitted. Diluc’s heart fluttered with joy, he couldn’t describe the feelings and emotions that were currently present within him, he just knew they were so overwhelming, he’d only wanted to do one thing.

“May I kiss you?” He asked respectively. Your own heart began to flutter and do somersaults within your chest. 

Right here? Right now? In front of all these people? He was comfortable with that?

But you found yourself shyly whispering yes. 

And he did exactly that, he kissed you like a shy teen, quickly leaning in to peck your slightly dry lips (you wished you applied some lip balm before leaving your house, but you didn't know you’d be getting kissed by the most beautiful man in all of Teyvat) before pulling away bashfully. You giggled at that, ignoring the gasps of the woman, men, and few children - whose eyes were being covered by their mothers.

“I’m very happy to hear that you’re not disappointed it’s me.” He’d whispered against your lips before pulling away to stare at you. Archons, you wished he hadn’t pulled away soon. But the bright hue on his cheeks and the bridge of his nose made up for it. He’s so cute when he blushes, you thought.

Love, adoration, you couldn’t tell... But he seemed to be feeling it all and allowing it to shine brightly in his eyes. 

“I would never be, Master Diluc.” You replied, equally as starstruck as he appeared.

“Diluc is fine.” He reassured you, you stared at him in awe, before smiling. 

“Diluc...” You whispered to yourself, correcting what you'd said earlier. You would have to get used to calling him just Diluc, though dropping the title Master would be hard. It was what everyone called him.

“If it’s alright, I’d like to accompany you on your commission,” he said, shocking you for the second time today. 

“Really? You would seriously do that?” You asked, astonished. 

“Of course,” He started. “You can handle yourself, yes, but for my own sanity I would like to accompany you to make sure you’re safe.” He didn't belittle your skill, which you were thankful for. Many men, often ones in the military belittled your skill and claimed you needed assistance because you were a woman. You weren’t some fragile being, you were a Knight of Favonius. 

“Thank you...” You whispered, he seemed to understand immediately what the gratitude was for. 

“Are you ready?” You asked, noticing how he didn’t have any bags, just himself and his Claymore. “You don’t have any gear...” You noted.

“I’ll alright, that’s all I need if I’m with you.” He whispered so only you could hear, shyly reaching for your hand.

For a moment, you stood staring at his outstretched hand, wondering how in the world this had happened and when he became such a romantic. He’d been behind the letters the whole time and had kissed you?! Diluc would surely need to tell you the story of it all on your journey. You had a long way to Snezhnaya, soyou had time for the entire story. 

The only thing ingrained in your mind as you allowed his hand to encompass your own, was that you missed the touch of his lips on yours and greatly enjoyed his romantic admissions.

[🏷] TAGLIST (if you want to be removed from/added to this specific taglist let me know!)

@gladly-olus​ , @kyquu , @craptainlou , @mintydump , @chscklvr , @irisxiel , @minh0ree , @whatishappinesswhatislove , @rrintarou , @sorenthousand , @cvsmix , @nonniechan ,

3.12.21, rayofsunas

[onceuponamirror]

ghosts

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore.

[set between 2x05-2x06] [read on ao3!]

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nancy turns to look over her shoulder, surprised to see Ace standing there, hands in the pockets of his puffer. He has a smile emerging from the corner of his mouth, which broadens slightly after a moment. “You look super serious. Am I interrupting something heavy?”

“What? No,” she says, clearing her thoughts, and echoes his grin. “I just thinking about…ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” Ace repeats, and drops into the seat beside her. She’s sitting on the table, whereas he’s planted on the bench, and yet they’re still at eye-level.

She blows out a breath and shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, ghosts. With everything happening so fast last month, I feel like…I didn’t fully process…” She pauses, and waves her hands for exaggeration, “Ghosts. They’re real.”

He furrows his brow, as if waiting for her to continue, or to finish her thought.

Nancy falls back on her palms, glancing up briefly at the darkened sky. “It’s just—I’m supposed to be this…Hero of Horseshoe Bay, or whatever they want to call me in the papers. I don’t really care about that but—solving mysteries is the only thing I’ve been good at, and…”

Ace passes her a slightly mischievous smile. “Is this about me coming for your title? I’m a ‘Hero’ too.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own. “No, it’s…I make logical leaps. That’s all it is. How can you make logical leaps with supernatural stuff?”

“Ah,” Ace says.

“If ghosts are real, what else is? And what won’t I be able to solve because I didn’t think to consider…Bigfoot, or something? I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this when the rules of physics don’t apply.”

“Nancy,” Ace says slowly, “all due respect, but that’s super dumb. You’ve already solved like, three ghosts mysteries by now.” She opens her mouth with mock offense, but he just grins at her, and she’s unable to stop herself from matching it again. “You’re good at this. Dead or undead. Besides—people always say stuff about physics as if it just relates to gravity. It’s a lot more flexible than that.”

She cocks her neck. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs. “Like, I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole one night. A lot of physics is about theorizing about other dimensions and energy, and matter. Like—there’s that rule, that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. I think it’s mostly about decay or whatever, like how when we die we go back to the ground, but maybe there’s another part, like with our soul, that sticks around. Who’s to say that doesn’t encompass ghosts?”

Nancy just stares at him, dumbfounded. When she first met Ace, he’d struck her as a quiet slacker; another fellow high school burnout. It’s almost upsetting how much she’d misjudged him. “How the hell do you know that?”

As if slightly embarrassed, Ace ducks his face down, but she can still see his smile. He shrugs again. “Like I said, I love a good Wikipedia black hole. Which, coincidentally, has a great article on black holes.” They meet each other’s eyes, and Nancy feels something sputter against her chest, suddenly deeply aware of their proximity. She wonders if he feels it too, because he clears his throat. “Anyway, I don’t sleep super well. So it gives me a lot of time to collect increasingly random knowledge.” He taps his temple. “It’s a steel trap of trivia.”

She raises her eyebrows, still taking him in. He never seems to stop surprising her. “How did we not know each other in high school? You would’ve been super helpful on some of my earlier cases, you know.”

“I thought you worked alone then,” he says, somewhat teasingly, but like he’s avoiding her question. After a moment, he sighs. “I knew you, you just didn’t know me. We actually had art together, I think.”

“No way,” she says at once, before she can think on it. “I would’ve noticed you.”

It’s his turn for his eyebrows to jump on his forehead. Her neck flushes hotly, but mercifully, he looks away from her. “Nah. I was barely there. I was kind of a big stoner in high school.”

“I’m shocked,” she says dully, and he laughs. At the sound, her chest tightens again.

“I know. It really plays against type,” he counters, smirking.

She laughs, and a silence falls over them gently. She’s still surprised they had a class together and she didn’t even know him—even if they didn’t run in the same circles, he was still Ace. If she wracks her brain, she has a vague memory of a skinny kid in a backwards baseball cap and an oversized plaid shirt, but it’s hard to reckon that with the long-haired, soft-eyed, much more muscled boy who sits beside her.

When her thoughts finally return to the present, she finds him watching her. She turns slowly to face him, breath catching against her chest. Her eyes dart down to his mouth, and he does the same. Anxiously, she pushes her hair behind her ears, unwilling to let this moment last. This is Ace. Get it together.

“What?” He asks, his tone something low and velvety.

She laces her fingers together and tips her chin up, wistfully watching a faint star. “What are you still doing here?” She asks, and he meets her eye again, confused this time. “I mean, you’re smart. You never wanted to get out of Horseshoe Bay? Go to college?”

Ace leans back on his elbows. “Nah,” he says, but something in his voice betrays his attempt at casualness. “I didn’t have the grades, even if I wanted to.” Nancy purses her lips, not sure she believes him. He shifts uncomfortably, like he can tell. “Pothead,” he adds, impishly. “I took a couple of classes at the community college, but…I dunno, I got bored. I’ve had pretty much every job in town, at this point. Never really held anything down, ‘til now.”

“Yeah?” She asks, breathily.

“Worked on a lobster fishing boat for a summer. That was really hard,” he supplies, and Nancy wonders if that was the cause of his transformation from skinny kid in art class to the surprisingly toned boy beside her. “Worked at the video store, until they went out of business. Worked at the library for a bit. That didn’t work out, for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” she echoes, grinning at him. He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Last year I even worked at the yacht club,” he adds, glancing away from her. “That’s where I met Laura Tandy.”

At the mention of his ex, Nancy straightens. She tries not to put too much thought into the strange reaction her body has, deciding instead to dig at the larger thought that still nags. “Do you ever wish you’d gone with her? To Paris, I mean. Had adventures…left Maine?”

“Nance, I’m pretty sure adventure isn’t geography-specific at this point,” he sighs, throwing her a knowing look. There’s a slight thrill at him calling her ‘Nance’, and she tries to push it down. “But no,” he sighs. “My dad…I still think he needs me. He keeps trying to go back to work, as if he doesn’t remember why he left in the first place. Someone has to remind him.”

A soft hum escapes from the back of her throat. Privately, she thinks there’s something loaded there, something buried. A lie to himself, maybe. From her observation, Ace and his father are very much alike, but she doesn’t think he’d want to hear that.

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore. She levels him with a warning look, but he doesn’t back down, just piques an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “Right now, no.” She bumps him with her shoulder again. “Look at us. A couple of townie burnouts.”

He grins. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Another blanket of silence settles between them, but gentle this time. Again, the waves lap against the shore.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know you,” she says quietly, perhaps not meaning to say it aloud. Somewhere along the way, he became such a fixture. But she supposes that goes for all of her friends—she was so different in high school. She’s not sure she’s someone she would’ve liked now. She realizes Ace is looking at her again. “I just mean, it’s such a small town. Like, I don’t even know your last name,” she adds.

He still hasn’t budged, soft smile and all. “Oh, it’s—”

“Yo! Lazy Drew! Are we gonna Boggle or what?” George’s voice floats across The Claw’s back deck, and they both turn around to see her at the back exit, her hands on her hips, lit warmly from behind. “Ace, you said you were gonna go get her and come right back.”

“My bad,” he says, getting to his feet. He offers her his hand down, even though it’s barely a jump to the ground. She takes it anyway, but it hits her with a shock of static so strong that she drops it like a hot potato. His eyes are anywhere but on her.

“Game night waits for no man,” George says drolly, holding the door open for them.

“Fine, fine,” she mutters, passing through the doorway. She spins around and points at George. “Tonight, we Boggle, but tomorrow—trivia night. Teams.”

“I’m game,” Ace pips up, as George only rolls her eyes and nods as she struts past them, towards the booth where Bess and Nick wait.

“Tomorrow, you’re on my team, Mr. Steel Trap,” Nancy whispers to him, leaning in conspiratorially. His body heat warms against her skin, even through her light sweater.

His smile is soft. “Any time.”

[sparklingchan]

The Prince and I || Jeong Yunho(Ateez)

Pairing : Reader (fem.) x Yunho.

Word count : 9.2k+

Warnings : Cuss words, minor injuries, Yunho BEING A FLUFFBALL!!

Genre : Fluff, angst, Arranged marriage au, Royal au.

Description : Your marriage to Prince Yunho feels like nothing less than a fairytale - but a fairytale is incomplete without a villain, right?

A/N:  This fic took longer than I thought it would lol  

This is a part of the holiday treats event conducted by kafenetwork.          This fic is for the lovely Anna! I hope you like it and I hope it didn’t disappoint. I’m sorry I cannot tag you here because this site always decides to eat up my posts with tags in it :((

Enjoy!

"This wedding dress is a little expensive, granny."

The silky cloth slips away from in between your fingers, as quick as sand. You hadn't ever touched a piece of cloth as beautiful and smooth as this one, really. In fact, you'd never ever seen anything like the dress presented before you at the moment. And well, as much as you want to buy it, you knew you couldn't. Not unless you use up all your life's savings.

"I'm sure Ms. Claire here could find us something less...royal." you mutter again when your Grandmother doesn't respond.

Ms. Claire, the owner of the elegant boutique you find yourself standing in this morning, smiles at you sheepishly. "Oh, what nonsense! You will be married into a royal family, y/n. I cannot have you wear a normal wedding dress."

You sigh, turning away from the mannequin that donnes your dream wedding dress and crouching down to speak to your granny, "Granny, we won't have any money left if we buy this."

Your grandmother has been in the wheel chair for as long as you could remember. But she has more energy and life in her than most young people out there, including you. She's like this ball of sunshine who adores you to death. And now that the most important event of your life is slowly coming close with every passing day, you find her enthusiasm increasing likewise. She would wake up every morning and coax you to work out and do your skin care routine every night before bed. Today too, she forced you to allow her to tag along on your last shopping trip before your big day. Though you never say it out loud, your grandmother is nothing short of an angle. And you'd do anything to make her happy.

"I have saved up enough money to buy three such dresses, y/n." Your grandmother says as you lean down , "Miss Claire, pack this one up please."

Miss Claire nods and smiles at your granny, "Surely, madam."

Her assistant takes away the mannequin to get it packed up and billed.

You sit on the small couch present in the room as your eyes roam around the room full of pretty dresses and veils and shoes. It feels surreal all of a sudden, as if you were in a day dream you'd often think about as a teenager.

"What? Do you want anything else? I have enough money for that too." Your grandmother chimes in, rolling the wheelchair a little towards you, "Should we buy one for your mom too?"

Your mom, though equally excited for your wedding as your grandmother, was more on the realistic side. She'd give you a reality check ever so often - about husbands and in-laws and everything surrounding it. You're also not very sure your mom would appreciate spending so much money on dresses in a single day, especially when your wedding stands only four days away.

"No, granny, mom has enough dresses." You run a soothing hand through her grey and thin hair, "Aren't you tired? We've been out for a long time now."

"Do I look tired to you? " she raises an eyebrow, her eyes wrinkling up as she smiles at you sweetly. She's such an adorable little woman that it makes your heart melt everytime she looks at you.

"No," you roll your eyes, "Guess we can go and pick up Maya's dress while we're at it."

"Maya as in your best friend? The annoyingly loud girl from your college?" You snort at your granny's choice of words to describe your best friend.

You hear Miss Claire call you towards the payment counter and before you could move a finger, your granny races you to it.

"Come on, girl, what are you- eighty?" She teases you with a loud chuckle.

And still, you may not say it out loud , but your granny is your whole world. And when you are married off into the royal family of your father's old hometown, the only person you'll miss badly is probably your sweet old grandmother.

Later that evening, after dropping your grandma back home, you decide to walk to your best friend's apartment which is located just a few blocks away from yours. You carry her dress with you but deep down, you know that's not the only reason as to why you wanted to visit her this late at night.

"I need advice. "

"About what?"

"Marriage and life. "

Your best friend's eyes widen at your words. Her lips part as if she wanted to comment something but then stopped herself. "Maya, dude please. I'm terribly scared and I can't talk to anyone else at home." You admit, playing with the hem of your dress. A sudden sense of embarrassment and shyness washes over you but you push all that away before they get the best of you.

Maya puts down her dress on the bed.

"Y/n, I could give you all the advice in the world but believe me, you won't be able to apply it practically. I married a normal man from a normal family. We live in a cozy apartment in a city. But for you, it's different. You'll not marry a common person- you're marrying a prince for God's sake. A Crown Prince on top of that. You'll be living in a castle far away in the mountains. I don't know how my advice would be of any help here, y/n." Maya says, her hand gently patting yours.

You shift in your place, the bed creaking softly beneath you.

Maya is unarguably right - her advice won't be useful in your case. In fact, no one's advice would be useful to you unless they've had a first hand experience with an arranged marriage and a royal life. Yet these facts do little to comfort your growing fear and anxiousness.

"I haven't even met him in person yet. I only saw him over a few stupid video calls and in his pictures. I don't know what to expect." You say.

His Highness Crown Prince Yunho is a pretty busy man it turns out. So busy that he hasn't even been able to take some time out of his duties and come visit his fiancé for a few hours. He's a beautiful man, you have to say. Elegant and stylish and well mannered and everything about him screams Royal. He often texts you in his free time and calls you once in a blue moon. He seems like a nice man indeed, the kind you'd love to marry even without his royal heritage. But being his wife and a Crown Princess is a challenge you'd have to face completely on your own.

"Your granny thinks he's a good man, y/n. Maybe you should trust her judgement. Old people have that in themselves, you know." Maya says with a small smile, "Plus he's a Prince. You'll live a luxurious life, y/n. Don't be so pessimistic! I'm sure things will turn out great."

You give your best friend a tight hug for trying to cheer you up and helping you forget your fears even if it's just for a few hours . That night, as you toss and turn in your bed, trying to keep your mind free from thoughts about your life after marriage, you realise how big of a change this one thing will make.

And you're not very sure if you're ready for that change yet.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

The weather is quite pleasant today, the sun shining softly through the thin curtain of clouds and the humidity deciding to be a little forgiving today but too bad you're stuck inside your room, folding clothes and making sure all your necessities are packed in the luggage.

"Well, this is not how I expected my last day at home to turn out, " you complain to your mother who sits across from you on the bed, helping you pack your things, "But it is what it is, I guess."

Your mom chuckles, placing your folded clothes into huge black suitcase spread open on the floor. "This isn't bad. You're alone with your family and friend, what more do you need?"

A fancy Bachelorette party with your friends and a few male strippers didn't sound like a very appropriate response so you decide to just shake your head.

"Aren't you angry though? Even just a little bit?" She asks. You scowl at the unexpected, out of context question. You are scared and anxious and nervous but angry? Not at all.

"What do you mean? Why would I be angry?" You reply, crossing your arms in front of your chest, "I'm fine."

She sighs, momentarily pausing her actions to face you. Her eyes are a little moist, you notice, and her lips pressed into a sad line. "Your grandmother betrothed you to Prince Yunho when you guys were just nineteen. It is an arranged marriage, to a person you don't know and a family which holds so much power. She didn't give you freedom to choose your own partner. Aren't you angry about that?" She elaborates.

You feel a soft tug in your heart at her words. You've been so preoccupied with worrying about how you'd handle yourself after marriage that you never really thought about this. Even so, when you really think about it, you can't find it in yourself to be angry at your grandmother.

"Granny and Prince Yunho's grandmother were best friends, mom. They made a promise and I respect that. Plus granny never forced me to say yes. I did that on my own account. " you explain yourself, your hand slowly reaching over to squeeze your mom's shoulder, "Don't worry about me. I'll manage. I always do."

Its rather funny how you were the one needing assurance from Maya a few nights ago and here you are, repeating the same words of encouragement to your mother. A part of you is obviously still terrified of the future, but that's not your mom's problem to deal with. It's entirely yours.

Your mom sniffs, but a tear manages to roll down her cheek, "I'll miss having you around. Why couldn't she have arranged your marriage to a normal person who lived in the same city?"

And then it finally dawns on you. It really is your last day at home. Your last day in the city you so dearly loved, your last day in the house which has seen you grow from a little baby to a beautiful, young woman. It's your last day as y/n y/l/n, your parents' only child and your grandmother's favorite grandchild. Tomorrow, you would be a Princess, a wife, a person of political importance. And your heart breaks a little at the thought of never getting this life back again.

"Mom.." you mutter, your eyes tearing up as well. Words fall short when it comes to describing how much you'll miss everyone and everything here. Starting from your friends to your family to the smallest of decorative items in your room that you've managed to collect over the years. It's like a piece of you would just cease to exist. As the night grows darker and the day crosses over to the next one, you hold your mother close as the both of you let out the quietest of sobs and realise that this might be the last time she'd have you all to herself.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡   

The journey from your parents' old house to Prince Yunho's ancestral palace is short - not with respect to time but with respect to the fact that amidst tearful eyes and memory flashbacks, the car ride gives you little to no time to settle your hurricane of thoughts.

As your dad's car slowly pulls over in front of a huge black metal gate, you are welcomed with a view that seems right out of a fairytale. The Royal palace is located in the most beautiful locations you've ever been to, a place you never thought could exist in real life. It almost feels like you are in a dream. With the beautiful backdrop of lush green mountains in the back, the Palace stands tall on the foothills of the mountains. The pastel pink walls and the carefully carved window panes look ethereal with contrast to the tall black gates that securely surround the palace. A group of servants are rowed in front of the man main entrance, with warm smiles and trays full of welcome drinks.

But you're far too mesmerized by the place to bother consuming anything at the moment.

This place - this breathtakingly gorgeous palace with the biggest gardens and tallest fountains- would be your home. For a long time, home meant your crammed little apartment which always smelt like cinnamon and bread. It had no big gardens, no servants, no fountains but it was your home. Your safe place. You wonder if this place could ever feel like home.

"Geez, y/n, I'm so jealous." Maya whisper-squeals in your ear as the servants lead you inside, "Do you want to exchange husbands?"

You nudge her gently with your elbow, "Shut up. Or I'll have you thrown out."

You are made to walk through a quiet hallway that has a huge wooden door at the end. On both sides of the hallway, pictures and paintings and vintage weapons are displayed like in museums and the marble floor beneath you shines like water under the sun. Every nook and corner of this place is a treasure waiting to be discovered, you realise.

The servants open the wooden door and lead you inside into what appears to look like a Throne Room. Now, you'd never really been to one before but movies and books have taught you that this is what a Throne room probably looks like - with a Grand Throne placed at the very center and numerous chairs placed on either side of it. The walls in this room are graced with more pictures and paintings of kings and queens and common people and soldiers. You wonder if your picture would ever be up there somewhere in the future.

"Oh, hello lovely people!" A manly voice booms through the hall, "I hope I didn't keep you waiting too long."

A few quick taps of feet on the floor and there stands in front of you a very familiar face - as if you'd almost seen him in a dream.

Black tuxedo, perfectly styled hair, a walkie-talkie in his hand, the man before you looks right out of a James Bond movie. "I'm Choi San, Prince Yunho's personal secretary and the royal family's representative for the day."

He claps his hands together, "Her Highness the Queen Regent, Her Highness the Queen Mother and His Highness Crown Prince Yunho sadly couldn't be here since they have some important charity event to attend. I deeply apologize for that. In their place, allow me to welcome you to the Jeong family's Grand palace!"

"You'll all be taken to your rooms now because you must be tired from the journey. If you need anything, just tell one of these servants."

The servants nod at San and signal you and your family to follow them.

"Uh, lady Y/n. Mind if I have a word with you?" San interrupts.

Although surprised, you nod as you let your family walk off to their rooms.

"Yes?" You ask San.

San's eyes are focused on your frame - every movement, every expression, every word - he's observing you as if to make sure you're the right person for Prince Yunho. You feel self conscious all of a sudden.

"Yunho did say you're a charming person. I just didn't think I'd agree with him before, but now..I definitely do." San giggles, offering you his hand, "I'm Choi San at your service, madam. Your wish is my command."

You bow gently at him, "I'm y/n y/l/n. It's nice to meet you too, sir."

San chuckles, "Please don't call me that, your Highness. I'm your employee. Besides I have something important to talk to you about. "

The last few words form a tight knot in your stomach, fear finding it's way through your veins.

"Y-yeah?"

"You have a coronation ceremony tonight. I hope you know that. We've already hired a stylist who will take care of all you from now on. She'll meet you immediately after lunch." San explains, "And here's my business card. Contact me if anything comes up, okay?"

You gulp as you accept the shining business card from him, "Thanks. I'll do that."

San smiles sympathetically, as if he understood the fears swimming inside you. He offers you a gentle, encouraging pat on the shoulder.

"I know how you feel. A palace is a scary place, I won't deny. But if I can survive here, so can you. Plus you have Yunho. He's the nicest man a person could ever ask for, I'm sure." San says.

Your whole body relaxes a little as a soft breeze of comfort washes over you with the words leaving San's mouth. This is what you'd been wanting to hear for a long time - a reassurance that you'll be safe and okay as a member of the Royal family and that Prince Yunho might be a person you could love. But for now, you focus on keeping your self calm.

"Now, do you mind walking me to my room? I find myself a bit lost." You giggle.

San finds himself chuckling in response, "Of course, your majesty."

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

When San had told you that you'd have your own personal stylist, you did not expect this . Even in your wildest dreams, this is not something you'd catch yourself wanting.

The beautiful blue gown clutches to your upper body at just the right places and then flows down your waist like a beautiful waterfall under the sunlight. A diamond necklace graces your otherwise empty neck complimented with matching earrings. The stylist - Alisa - puts your hair up in a pretty bun and then places a beautiful diamond tiara on your head. And when your eyes finally land on your reflection in the mirror, your mouth hangs open with no words but just air slipping out of it as response.

"Do you like it, your Highness?" Alisa asks with hopeful eyes. Her shy smile giving away the fact that she wants you to like what she's done, her efforts and ideas.

You have to blink hard for a few more seconds before coming to terms with the fact that you look so beautiful right now. A part you is in denial while a part of you is jumping around, doing a victory dance in happiness. You weren't used to seeing yourself look this good. Your heart leaps at the thought of Prince Yunho seeing you like this - almost like a princess who's lived in castles all her life. And then you realize that you would be one ; in only a few minutes.

"I love it, Alisa. You're brilliant!" You exclaim, wrapping your arms tightly around the stylist in happiness. By Lisa's stiff response, you are sure you'd taken her by surprise. Royals do not go around hugging normal stylists yet this hug was a symbol of your thankfulness towards her for putting so much effort into you, to make you feel special. Alisa's proud smile reaches to her eyes as she quickly works on placing the brooch pin in the right place on your dress.

A knock on your room's door attracts your attention and you are quick to fix yourself in case it was someone from the Royal family.

"I'll get that." Alisa jogs quickly towards the door.

When the door creaks opens, you see a familiar face standing there - familiar enough to know it was your fiancé, the most handsome man you'd ever laid eyes on, with the kindest smile and brightest eyes. Your heart stops beating for a dangerous second.

"Oh, hello your Highness. " Alisa greets him, bowing slightly, "Miss y/n is ready to go."

And when Yunho looks at you, your soul as if escapes your body. "H-hi, Prince Yunho."

He walks towards you with warm, red cheeks and perfect black hair and a stylish black tuxedo and offers you his hand, "It's nice to finally meet you, my lady."

How does one ever respond to that? How does one ever behave in front of an actual, real life prince, who also happens to be your fiancé? He presses his lips to your fingers ever so gently.

The butterflies in your stomach go wild.

"Shall we go now? Everyone's waiting for you, my lady." He asks.

You nod, wrapping an arm around his, "Yes."

The short walk towards the throne room is mostly filled with a comfortable sense of silence, except for the times when Prince Yunho points at some random picture on the wall and talks about it. Your eyes seem to be following every movement of his, and everytime your eyes meet, you find yourself melting under his gaze. You are smitten by him and there's no denying in that.

On entering the throne room, all heads turn towards you - ministers, relatives, your family, Yunho's friends, San and all servants present there observe you as Yunho walks you down the flowery aisle leading to the Throne. You could feel everyone's eyes on you, scary yet exciting, they follow your every movement and every word and every expression.

And when they bow down slightly as you stand on the right side on the Throne, you realise these people weren't just bowing at Yunho, there were also bowing down at you. Because you'll be his wife tomorrow, a princess, a figure that should be loved by the people. The only thing keeping you grounded is Yunho's gentle hand softly clutching yours. It's as if he could sense your inner turmoil before even you do it yourself. "Are you nervous?" He whispers in your ear.

"Yes, a little. "

"Don't be. I'm here with you."

The main door to the hall opens and two women walk inside, at least ten soldiers walking in front and behind them, guns at ready and eyes critically scanning all the faces.

The older woman, who you assume to be the Queen Mother and Yunho's grandmother, wears a sweet smile and walks as gracefully as ever even in this senile age. She waves gleefully at the crowd bowing down to her. On her left stands a slightly younger woman, Yunho's aunt and the Queen Regent who has been the ruler of this kingdom after Yunho's parents passed away in a tragic accident ten years ago. Rumor has it that the Queen Regent is a strict, emotionless ruler who has no mercy for criminals and is harsh with all the employees of the palace. You notice her serious gaze fixed in your direction and shudder in fear even though you've barely ever talked to her before.

"May the Queen Mother live long! May the Queen Regent live long!" Someone chants and the others follow suit in the blink of an eye.

You suddenly feel as if you are in some period drama.

The Queen Regent takes her place on the throne while the Queen Mother takes a seat on the left side of the Throne. A single wave of the Queen Regent's hand and the crowd goes completely silent.

"Hello to everyone gathered here today. I am very, very glad to welcome a new member of the family - lady y/n y/l/n. She is to be the wife of my beloved nephew Yunho and the future Queen of this kingdom. Please give her a warm welcome!"

The hall erupts into claps and cheers and your name being repeated as if in a chant. Your grip on Yunho's arm tightens.

"I'm there, my lady." He says again, "Don't be afraid."

San brings out a huge sword and places it in the Queen Regent's hands. This sword is what you assume to be the Jeong family's old, sacred sword used by generations and generations of brave kings and queens to protect themselves as well as the citizens of their beloved country. This sword is a symbol of pride and victories. And a lost history.

"As per ancient traditions, I will now be crowning miss y/n as a princess before her wedding with the prince tomorrow. From now on she will be called her Highness Crown princess Y/n. She is an important member of our family from this day forth."

"Y/n, go on and kneel in front of my aunt." Yunho whispers, nodding at you with a proud smile, "You're doing so great already."

You comply by his words and kneel in front of the throne, your head hanging low and eyes squeezed shut with anxiousness of what is to come.

"Welcome to the family, y/n." You hear the Queen Regent's voice before she gently taps your right shoulder with the tip of the sword and then the left one. You feel a few droplets of water being sprinkled on your face.

"Rise, Crown Princess. Face your people and let them welcome you with open arms."

It is done. You are a princess now. This can never be undone, this name, this title will stick with you till the end of time. You're no longer a normal girl with small dreams and basic requirements, you're a future Queen now.

Rise, Crown Princess.

And you do.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Every person has dreamt about their own wedding at least once in their life - whether it is in the peak of their teenage or in the innocent wonders of their childhood or the wildest dreams of their adult years, this thought found itself in everyone's mind.

You had one such dream too.

But your dream had always been very simple. A nice man, your closest friends and family, a cheap and beautiful wedding dress, a small party with limited people - that is all you've ever wanted. You didn't want a gathering of four hundred people who you barely knew, the new reporters shoving their cameras into your face, heavy make up or expensive jewelry, or a husband who you barely knew. But guess that is what the Gods had written in your fate. And you have no option now than to accept things the way they are.

You don't remember much from the wedding ceremony or the huge party that follows, really ; you only remember Yunho's lips pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead when the priest asks the groom to kiss the bride(probably the best part of the day), your grandmother's tears of happiness and Alisa and San winking at the two of you after the ceremony was over. Everything else felt like a blur, as if your head had been underwater all this while.

An hour or so into the party, Prince Yunho asks you to walk with him. Alone. Though reluctant, how could you ever say no to those innocent eyes? The discomfort from being surrounded by hundreds of unknown people slowly disappears as the two of you walk around the garden, your eyes never meeting but a sense of familiarity settling between the two of you.

"I'm not used to this, you know." He says with a shy smile.

The sky is beautiful, decorated with stars and a full moon but nothing compares the glow on Yunho's face when he turns to glance at you.

"Used to what?" You enquire, "Having so many people here?"

He shakes his head, "No. I'm used to having a lot of people here. That's all I've ever seen. What I'm not used to is this. Having a partner or someone else live in my room with me."

"So...?"

"I'm happy about it. I really am. But I know you're new to this royal lifestyle and we barely even know each other that well but I hope you don't regret this marriage. Because I'm sure that I won't. " Yunho sighs, "And if you ever feel like it's not worth your time anymore, you are more than free to leave. Forget about everyone else, do what your heart says. "

The last phrase catches you off guard. It is very, very rare to find people who give you this sort of freedom in any arrangement. The fact that he opens up his thoughts to you makes your heart leap with happiness. And a little sadness too that he'd think you'd leave him so easily.

"Hey," you pat his arm, "I'm not leaving anytime soon. I promise. We made a vow, didn't we?"

Yunho blushes at your words, but under the bright moonlight it goes unnoticed by you.

"Do you mind if I hold your hand?" He suggests after a few seconds of silence.

The butterflies in your stomach are seemingly having the time of their life these past few days.

"I don't." You slide your hand into his and your fingers intertwine almost instantly. His warm palm presses against your cold one, bring a sense of comfort you never thought you'd ever experience. In the midst of a chaotic royal gathering and the paparazzi trying to sneak in through the gates, you and Yunho find a small world for yourselves that no one else can ever have access to.

And for the first time in months, you realise that this marriage might be worth more than what you thought it would be.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

You've always wondered what the people in royal palaces do. Do they spend all their time greeting the citizens and walking in the gardens? Do they keep dancing in the ballroom all the time? Or do they busy themselves with war conspiracies?

Sadly you realise that royal life sounds very exciting and extravagant only when you're not the one actually living a life like that. And this conclusion dawns on you only after ten days of the wedding.

The first week is packed with activities, alright. Visiting the common people and distant relatives and going to various public events. Your curiosity was at its peak till a few days ago, but now here you are, sitting on the edge of your soft bed, phone in lap and eyes drooping with sleepiness, wondering how to keep yourself occupied.

"Y/n?" The door creaks open as Yunho peeks inside shyly, "Can I come in?"

You nod, "It's your room, Yunho. You don't need my permission to enter."

"Oh, I was just making sure you weren't doing anything you didn't want me to see."

Oh. Your cheeks turn into crimson fruits as his words finally hit you.

"Anyway, I actually came to get my file. But I saw you sitting here. Are you bored?"

Are you? Heck, yes!

"Yes." You reply almost guiltily.

Chuckling, he leans down to press a loving kiss on top of your head, "Come on. I'll show you something."

You took pride in the fact that after only a week of staying here, you knew the palace fairly well. The corridors and paintings and artifacts and the workers weren't as foreign to you anymore. Yet the path Yunho takes you to seems weirdly unfamiliar.

Guess new surprises await everyday.

Soon enough, your steps halt in front of a huge wooden door labeled as ' library '.

Rows and rows of books welcome you the moment you step inside, Yunho leading the way into the most beautiful library you'd ever seen in your life. As always, paintings grace the wooden walls and a huge crystal chandelier hangs from the middle most point of the ceiling.

"Yunho...is this..what heaven looks like?"

The smell of old and new books hit your nostrils as you run a gentle hand over the book kept in the shelves, feeling the various materials of book covers brush past your fingertips.

"Maybe." Yunho responds with a grin.

Yunho's heart feels full with adoration and content at the sight of you dancing around the books shelves, gleefully taking notes of the books you plan to read on the days to come. Your eyes curl up into crescent moons as your toothy smile seems to have taken Yunho's breath away. Beautiful is what you look. Simple and elegant and so innocent.

All his life he's spent among royal people, people with political intentions and lots of money. But you make him feel differently. Being with you feels like a breath of fresh air for Yunho. And who wouldn't like that?

"Earth to Yunho." You click your fingers in front of his face after you catch him staring at you. Not that you didn't like it, but you had to do something before you turn into a mush before his eyes, "What are you thinking?"

"Oh, um..nothing." you. He was thinking about you, "How about I ask the workers to bring my office stuff over here? I can work here while you read. I don't want you to be alone."

A shameless grin plasters over your lips.

"I'd like that, Yunho. I'd like that very much. "

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"How's the married life treating you?" Your granny asks you this question every damn time she decides to call you. 

And surprisingly somehow, you always answer positively to her query.

"Well, good. I think so at least. " you smile to yourself, remembering the soft kiss Yunho had placed on your head as he left for an official trip this morning. Even in your half asleep state, your cheeks had turned bright red, "Prince Yunho is a nice man. "

"Oh, of course he is! I wouldn't have asked you to marry him otherwise, you idiot." She yells at you although you know she's smiling through the phone, "Anyway, I can't talk for long today. I have a doctor's appointment so I'll need to dress up for that."

That comes as a surprise, "What? Are you sick ?"

"God, no. I'm not a weakling, okay? It's the regular check up. Don't worry." She says, "Bye now. "

The line goes silent.

Sighing, you put your phone down on the night stand. On times like this, when the room is too quiet and you are too lazy to walk out and talk to other people, you start missing home. A lot more than usual. Your house, though only consisting of four people was way too noisy from sunset till sundown and somehow, you'd gotten used to it. The quietness has yet to grow on you.

A slight knock on the door attracts your attention and you immediately allow whoever it is to come inside.

"Oh, Alisa. It's you!" You exclaim as relief washes over you on seeing a familiar face.

"Yes, your Highness. How have you been?" She bows down to you, "Are you able to adjust to this new life?"

"I've been okay, you could say. Still a little overwhelmed whenever I have to face people but I think I'm getting there." You laugh a little.

Alisa gives you an understanding nod, "I totally understand. But I'm glad you're feeling more comfortable. By the way, I came here to ask you if you wanted to visit my boutique in the town nearby. It's a new one and I wanted you to come see it before the inauguration. "

Your heart jumps at the offer. You remember back in your college days, you would often go shopping with Maya, especially on weekends. The two of you would wait for months for a sale or special offers because online shopping sometimes just doesn't do it for you. You smile, nostalgic, "I'd love to go."

"And then maybe we could go and eat in the pizzeria nearby. It serves the best pizza in the world, I swear."

This is just beyond tempting at this point, a literal trap to have you step out of the role of a royal Princess and embracing the careless city girl inside of you and who are you to keep her hidden for too long?

"What are we waiting for then?"

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

Yunho surprises you every now and then.

On the outside, he is a strict man with the sharpest of brains and the most observant eyes. The title of being a crown prince sits heavy on his shoulders and with every passing day, the weight just get heavier.

On the contrary, the Yunho you get to see everyday is very different. Soft and cheerful and smiley, he's the literal embodiment of the sunshine and your heart doesn't seem to rest everytime you see him.

It must have been roughly a month since the wedding when he makes an impromptu plan of visiting your city and your parents' house since it had been a long time you last saw them.

"Heard you were going to your parents house?" You had gotten ready to go before Yunho did, so instead of sitting in your bedroom, you decided take a short walk outside in the gardens. And as you strolled around aimlessly among the flowers and bushes, deep in thoughts, you had come across the Queen Mother sitting by the water fountain.

"Yes, your majesty." You reply, rather intimated by her aura.

It's hard to accept sometimes that this person is best friends with your grandmother, when the both of them are as different from each other as the two poles! Your grandmother is the ever so sweet, smiling, supportive person. You would never see her angry or upset. But on the other hand, the Queen Mother is uptight, very quiet and rarely ever smiles. Just like her daughter, the Queen Regent. Maybe it's a royal thing but you're glad you don't have to see this serious side of Yunho on a daily basis.

"Good. The farther from here, the better." She mumbles.

You are alarmed at her words, "I'm sorry?"

She sighs, her walking sticking tapping the marble wall of the fountain, "Y/n, I adore you. I might not show it but I'm glad my grandson has someone like you to make his life less lonely. But you have to be careful. Not everyone is appreciative of a person of common birth being crowned as a Crown Princess. "

Fear slowly clutches you in its palms. You had gotten very occupied with Yunho and being a crown princess and making new friends, you admit. So occupied that you let your guard down. And the Queen Mother's words sound more like an advice than a threat.

"Should I be worried?" You ask, your skin going cold at the thought of someone actually wanting to hurt you.

"Not yet, no. But be very, very careful. You cannot trust anyone here. Not even me. The only person you can lean on is Yunho. Why? Because he might be as much in danger as you."

Have you ever seen how people start panicking when any sort of alarm goes off? Yeah, thats exactly how you feel at that moment.

"Y/n, let's go!" You hear Yunho call you from the front gate, already taking his seat inside his car.

You bow at the Queen Mother before jogging towards Yunho, your heart no longer into the trip as it were a few minutes ago.

Yet seeing your parents and granny after so long did comfort you.

They had prepared this small barbeque party in your backyard, your dad playing guitar and purposely singing badly to embarrass you while your mother shows Yunho your childhood pictures. And the food, oh, the food! The five star chefs from Yunho's palace could never replace this comfort food you had at your parents house. It might not be well decorated with garnishes or spices or fancy plates but it made you feel like everything will eventually be okay - which is exactly what you needed at the moment.

The entire evening you try hard to talk to Yunho but when your house is full of three excited adults, it is hard to do that. Around one am in the morning, you finally find yourself in your old bedroom, Yunho's fascinated eyes roaming around the room that feels like it were straight out of some teenage romance movie. Where in reality you'd honestly been too lazy to change the room's layout once you outgrew your teenage obsessions and interests.

"You seem to be liking my room a little too much. " you chuckle, scrolling aimlessly through your phone, your face partly squished into your favorite pillow.

The boyband posters, old polaroids from your school functions, romance novels stacked up neatly by the nightstand - all of this is as foreign to him as his palace is to you.

Yunho lies down beside you, still in awe of the room, "Yeah, it literally mirrors your personality. "

"How?"

"I can't explain it, you know," he clicks his tongue, "But everything in this room screams y/n. Like everything here is made only for you."

You raise your eyebrow at his words. He's very observant, that you've noticed, but the fact that he knows you this well in barely a month warms your heart.

"What about our bedroom in the palace? Is it not made for me?"

"Oh, it is. Of course it is. But you're staying there because you have to, right? Because we're married and all that." He replies.

"No, I'm not. I told you Yunho - I'm staying there because I want to." You say, now no longer in a mood to joke around.

Suddenly, the words from The Queen Mother swim back into your mind, as you start seeing her words in a completely different light.

Yunho has somehow always expressed how he is unable to believe your presence around him and how he acts like you're doing a favor by doing that. And you find yourself wondering if Yunho knows what she'd said to you. The danger that looms above both of your heads must not be as much of a secret to him than you thought it would be. So instead of confronting him, you decide to comfort him.

"We'll be fine, Yunho. " you drag your hand towards his, your body relaxing the moment he squeezes it back, "Both of us."

Yunho looks at you with love and desire clear in his eyes, his free hand slowly dragging towards your face. You could see it now- the loneliness from the loss of his parents and the negligence from his aunt and grandmother throughout his childhood still very much exists behind the mask of a happy prince. You do not know the language of royal people or politics but you do know the language of love and more than a stupid gold crown, he needs someone to love him. And thats exactly what you intend to do.

Was it too soon? You didn't care anymore. And you know for a fact that he didn't either.

You lean in close and press your forehead to his, "You're not alone anymore. Okay?"

You see him smile from your hooded gaze, your breath mixing with his in an intoxicating mixture. "Thank you, y/n. You have no idea how much I appreciate it."

And that in itself are a combination of words much more heavier than a simple 'I like you.'

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

"The Queen Regent wishes to see you."

San runs up to you the first thing the next morning, right after breakfast.

"Why?" You ask, your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

You had a plan to accompany your granny and the Queen Mother to their small tea party in a nearby Farmhouse but you couldn't obviously say no to meeting the Queen Regent. Because well, she's the Queen.

"I don't know, your Highness. I try to stay away from her as much as possible but whenever our paths do cross, she always assigns some work to me." He whines, "Go on, I'll tell the Queen Mother that you're occupied. I will be heading out with Yunho right now anyway."

Shaking your head in annoyance, you make your way to the Queen Regent's office.

Her office smells like expensive cigars the moment you step inside, and the full ashtray on her table only feeds into your conclusions.

"You asked for me, your majesty?" You ask in a low voice.

When she looks up from writing in her journal, your heart skips a few beats in fear. Her eyes hold no resemblance to Yunho's angelic ones or even The Queen Mother's serious ones. They look like two deep, bottomless black holes that swallow everything and anything in its vicinity. Her long hair is tied in a braid and her lips quiver passively upon seeing you.

"Ah, yes." She replies, "Please have a seat."

You take the chair in front of her desk, uncomfortable at the close proximity between you and the one person who everyone tries to avoid.

"How are you?" She begins, closing her journal and keeping her pen inside the drawer, "How are things going with Yunho?"

"I'm good, thank you for asking. And yes, things are going well with Yunho."

Her question seems odd, but you let it pass.

"Okay. That's really great to hear. Anyway, I met your husband a little while ago. And he asked me to tell you that he intends to see you on the rooftop alone later tonight." She raises an eyebrow, a gentle smile playing on her lips, "Looks like he has a date planned."

Her words seem too far fetched to be true. Too unrealistic. Not the date part though, but the part where he specifically ask her to pass on the message to you. He could have easily asked San or Lisa or even told you in first person, so why would he choose the Queen Regent out of so many people when he you've barely seen him talk to her?

But you're a Crown Princess, and she's the Queen and you cannot question her. "Okay, I'll be there." You get up from your seat and bowing gently, "Thank you for letting me know, your majesty. By the way, did he mention what time I am to go ?"

"Oh um...Around seven in the evening?" She's fumbling on her words, and you're sure she's lying about something.

Still you suppress your doubts and walk back to your room, hoping to find the truth behind her words this evening at seven.

The entire day goes by in the blink of an eye, but to you it feels like an eternity. The curiosity has you sitting at the edge of your bed, ready to make a run for it if any danger ever comes your way.

Yunho, who was out with San for some official work has surprisingly not texted you today at all. And it only adds to your doubts of the Queen Regent being a liar.

And when night finally falls, you find yourself tense up more than you'd done the entire day.

The night is quiet, calm but beautiful and as you step into the terrace and the soft wind kisses your face, you almost believe the Queen Regent's words. Maybe Yunho did really plan a surprise date for you. Because this is everything that Yunho likes. A beautiful night and a company he loves.

The terrace stands high giving you a beautiful view of the entire palace complex, the gardens and everything beyond. And for a moment, your worries diminish as you step near the railing, inhaling the fresh air and you feel safe.

But, you see, that's where you are wrong. This imaginary cloud of safety that you'd thought was around you was never there in the first place. Since the first time you stepped into the palace, all eyes have been on you - on every action, every activity, every word. You'd always been swimming in a dangerous sea. One wrong move, and you realise the shark is right behind you. And just how the Queen Mother had told you, you were only ever safe with Yunho by your side. But he isn't here anymore.

So it doesn't come as a when a pair of rough hands give you a single, harsh push, sending you falling right down five floors.

"You will never be our queen." Is what you hear before your vision dissolves into a black hole.

♡ ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

When you were six years old, you fell down your bike once while trying to copy some stupid stunt you'd seen people on television shows do. The excruciating pain that followed the fall was something which you thought you'd never have to experience again. That was the kind of pain which hurts you down to your very bones, sending waves of shock through your body with a single movement of your hands.

And that is exactly how you expect to feel the moment you open your eyes and come face to face with a familiar ceiling. But all you feel is sore, like how you feel the morning after exercising after a long while.

The bandages on your arms and abdomen indicate that your fall wasn't as bad as you thought it'd be but it was, nevertheless, a fall which was very much done on purpose.

"Y/n, honey, are you awake?" You hear Yunho's groggy voice coming from somewhere near the foot of the bed you lie on.

"Y-yeah. What happened?" You manage to sit up even though your body feels heavy with fatigue, "How did I fall?"

Yunho appears by your bed side in the blink of an eye and your heart clenches with relief when he bends down to kiss your head.

It feels like you hadn't seen him in days, years, where as it had only been around two days since you passed out. Yunho had rushed back home the moment he found out about it, leaving all his stupid official work for some other day. Hell, he would happily give up all his responsibilities if it means he could see you and keep you safe. He'd cried for nights and days, never leaving your side even when the nurses would change your clothes or bandage dressing. The mere thought of you never waking up again was too dark for him, especially when he'd found such a happy place in you. You are the owner of his heart and everything else that he could give you. You are, literally, his only family member. His whole world. And if he loses you, he would lose himself with you.

"A-are you okay?" He sits down on the bed, holding your hand so tight as if he was afraid you'd disappear if he let's go, "does it hurt anywhere?"

"Just a little bit, but I'm okay. I feel fine." You say, smiling through your busted lips.

Your smile as if breaks a wall he'd been holding onto for days, and his eyes immediately tear up.

"I'm so so sorry, y/n. I should have been there. I should have been protecting you. I keep forgetting I'm not a stupid guy with a normal life and that people I associate with might get into trouble anytime. I'm so sorry, I should have protected you from my Aunt and Alisa. I'm so fucking sorry."

Aunt? And Alisa? What is he taking about?

"Yunho, what are you -"

"They planned it. The entire thing. They purposely sent me and grandma away so no one would doubt them. Aunt had supposedly promised my hand in marriage to Alisa a long time ago but Grandma got us married instead. They were angry. So angry that they went ahead and tried to k-kill you. " he sobs into his hands, the tip of his nose turning bright red, "Alisa was the one who pushed you. They forgot to remove the CCTV footage."

You freeze for a second, Alisa's betrayal hurting you worse than The Queen Regent's. You almost thought you could find a friend in her, just like Maya. You trusted her. You felt safe around her when in reality, she'd only been a time bomb - waiting to blow up.

"Alisa did?" You mutter, your lips drying with fear, "I-I don't know what to say. Yunho, I- I can't believe Alisa would do this."

"I didn't either. But both of them have admitted to it. The police took them. I'm so sorry, y/n. " Yunho rubs his tears away, "I talked to your granny and parents. They said you could move back in with them. The divorce will take about a year or so to get finalized but you don't have to stay here till then. You can go back home whenever you want."

Your heart crushes in your chest. The fear of abandonment Yunho carries within himself yet he has the guts to let you go is something you would forever admire and hate in him. How could he think this way, especially after you've reassured him countless number of times that you're here to stay.

"I didn't agree to a divorce. What the fuck are you even cooking up in that mind of yours?" You say, stern and angry.

He looks up at you, his guilty eyes making the pain in your chest more painful.

"Y/n, please, you cannot stay with -"

"Shut up. Just shut up. I don't care. I don't care what you think. I am an adult and the crown princess of this kingdom and I will do as I please. " you almost yell, "I am staying here, with you, for better or worse. I told you I wouldn't leave. "

Yunho bursts into tears, wrapping his arms gently around you, hiding his face in the crook of your neck as you gently pat his back, reassuring him that you'd always stay. No matter what.

"Y-you might get hurt again, y/n. I don't want you to stay and get hurt again." But his tight hold on your body tells you otherwise.

"We're both in danger for the rest of our lives. Does that mean we stop living?" You whisper, pulling away from the embrace only to grab his chin, "Does that mean we stop loving?"

He shakes his head as his lips curve down and a shaky sob escapes his mouth, "Nothing will ever happen to you again, I swear. I will keep you safe. You will not have a reason to complain again."

You nod, dabbing his tears away with your thumb, "I know. I believe you. "

You stare into his eyes - his beautiful eyes made of the finest stardust that make your brain go hazy every morning that you wake up and find them right beside you. And that's exactly how you choose to wake up every morning till the end of your days.

"Is this the part where we kiss or what, because I've waited a long time -" he cuts your blabbering off by finally placing his plump, peachy lips on yours ever so tenderly.

He steals all the air from lungs, driving you breathless and crazy with every movement of his lips on yours and the gentle touch of his fingers on your face only adds to the unbounded euphoria you feel at the moment. He's beautiful. Even with your eyes closed, you know that he is beautiful. And not just with his face, he is a beautiful man inside out. He is yours and nothing in this world can ever change that. So when he pulls away, panting and out of breath, and gently kisses your forehead, you say, "I love you, my prince."

These words. These damn words that he'd waited for months to hear, nights he spent dreaming about hearing them. And he has to mentally slap himself to make himself believe this all to be true.

Stealing a quick kiss from your lips again, he whispers, "I love you, too, my princess. "

[ring-a-ding-dumbass]

Companions as Hallmark Christmas Movie Love Interests

Happy Holidays!! I’ve been watching a LOT of bad Christmas Movies, so here are the companions as Hallmark movie love interests! (I’ve left out Codsworth, Dogmeat, Strong, and DLC companions.) [disclaimer: I know most jobs listed in these do not work in the way that I will imply, but that’s pretty standard for these kinds of films, so I’m rolling with it. Also, most of these are based off of SOME movie I’ve seen this Christmas, so obviously it’s not going to be super original. They’re Hallmark movies; they’re not supposed to be ‘good.’]

Note: I’d love to expand these into a fic, but I really don’t have the free time right now. If anyone is interested in taking one of these ideas and running with it, please do!! Just tag me when you’re done so I can read it!!

Cait- Cait owns a bar and she has a strict “No Christmas” policy. No Christmas music. No singing Christmas carols. No decorations. She hates the holidays because she thinks that all of the happiness and love that they inspire is a bunch of BS. She say’s it’s all fake for the sake of Christmas cards and holiday specials. One day, you’re the last patrion in her bar, and Cait slips on some ice while she’s locking up. You take her to the hospital and she has *gasp* AMNESIA. You let Cait stay with you because you can’t find any friends or family of hers, and the hospital can’t keep her. To your surprise, this Cait actually seems to like Christmas. She treats everything like she’s learning about it for the very first time. She’s not all soft and lovey-dovey, sure, but she doesn’t mind the peppermint bark and ice skating and snowball fights and eggnog. As she begins to get her memory back, she gets colder, and she opens up to you that the reason she hates Christmas is because Christmas never meant anything to her as a child. Her parents were mean to her 24/7, and that didn’t stop around the holidays, which is why Cait was always so certain that Christmas cheer was a hoax. Cait regains her full memories, but because of your re-introduction to the holiday, she doesn’t mind it as much anymore. She’s no santa claus, but she does stock up on peppermint vodka and candy canes for the bar, and wears a mistletoe headband during December, which you always manage to take advantage of. 

Curie- Curie is the owner of a flower shop in North Pole, Alaska. Every year, more people move out of town, and Curie has to try to sell more items during Christmas, which is her most profitable season. You’re a character actor who works as an elf for a mall santa agency, and this year, you’re sent to the Fairbanks/North Pole region. One day, you go to see the sights in North Pole and meet Curie while she’s working in her shop. She’s running around like a chicken with her head cut off. You ask if she’s busy, and she mentions that she just lost her only employee to the local Build-a-Bear. She charms you, and you apply on the spot. After she hires you, you realize that there’s a well dressed real estate executive that comes in at least once a week to hit on Curie. She explains that he’s been offering to help her business in exchange for a date, but she won’t do it. As you and Curie ready up for the Holidays, you realize that you’re really compatible. You have fights with the fake snow used for window displays, you help organize flowers in the walk in freezer together and bring hot chocolate in when it gets too cold, and you start sneaking kisses to one another when you have to retrieve an order from the back. One day, the business man comes in and tells you that he’s buying the land that your shop is built on unless you can afford to pay an astronomical hike in rent. Curie begins to worry that she’ll have to sell her shop, but you promise her that it won’t happen. Together, you come up with the idea to sell Christmas packages online, so families who live far away from each other can send a little piece of christmas to other family members for the holidays. The idea takes off. Not only are you able to sustain the hike in rent, but you’re able to pay for your own land to move the shop, so Curie will never have to worry about rent again. You never go back to the mall santa place, and you run your shop with Curie for years, making a comfortable living in a cozy town. 

Danse- Oh, Paladin Danse-- He’s the son of the president, and one of the best generals in the country, and he’s getting married. You are the baker for his wedding. One day, when you’re trying to haul a prototype cake to the other end of the capitol building to put on display to show Danse and his future spouse, you turn a corner and run into Danse, covering the both of you in cake. You don’t recognize him, and he doesn’t introduce himself, but offers to help you in any way he can to rebuild the cake. He insists on helping, so you let him, which sparks a friendship between you. Once the cake is ready, you bring it back upstairs, to find Danse and his spouse ready to look at the cake. Danse and you start speaking when you run into each other in the halls, and one day, he asks you on a walk around the grounds, where he confesses to you that he doesn’t personally feel attracted to his spouse, but it must be done for the good of the country. Just before his wedding, you confess your feelings and Danse runs off. The wedding comes to a halt and nobody knows why until Danse shows up to tell his future spouse that he can’t go through with this because he is in love with someone else. He approaches you as you’re cleaning up the confectionary table and tells you that he has to be true to himself, and that means being true to you. 

Deacon- You’re a server working at a diner in a moderately large town. Deacon comes in one day and introduces himself as the new hire. You train him, and he’s kind of terrible, but he makes you laugh. You slip him your number after a week or so of light flirting and banter, but he turns you down. You leave to let Deacon close, but realize that you left your phone at the diner in an embarrassed hurry. You head back to the restaurant and find Deacon snooping through the boss’s files! After you catch him, he confesses that he’s an undercover spy, sent to keep an eye on your boss, who is suspected of using the diner to launder money. Now that you know, Deacon brings you on as his partner, and swears you to secrecy. You two go on a cute stakeout, have researching sessions together, and slowly fall in love over the course of December. At the end of the month, you come in for a shift to see your boss being arrested, and Deacon isn’t there. It isn’t until Christmas eve that you get a knock on your door. Deacon is there with takeout. He explains that his boss decided to go in without asking him, and they forced him back to the office, barring any outside contact until he could provide a full report. He confesses that he has fallen in love with you, but has also lost his job because of it, because he confessed to breaking cover. You reunite with a warm kiss and warm takeout, and, now that you’re both jobless, you start a P.I. agency together. 

Hancock- Oh. Oh. Oh. BAD BOY CELEBRITY gets in trouble with his publicist over general bad-boy-scandalous behavior. YOU are a choir director for a low income rec center in a small town and you are putting on a Christmas Pageant. You don’t have the funds, but eventually the publicist finds out about your little operation, and she is ALL over it. She brings Hancock in to work with the kids and she brings an entire media team with him. He’s arrogant at first, and doesn’t even remember your name for the first few days, but you notice a change in him as you begin to work together. As skeptical as you are, Hancock really connects with the kids, and really seems to care about the Christmas Pageant. While you’re there, the kids start teasing you two, and implying that you have crushes on each other. In the end, The publicist scores him a comeback story and interview on a national morning talk show, but it would mean missing the pageant. While it seems like he’s chosen to go to the talk show, he changes his mind and arrives just before the pageant with flowers to apologize. After you accept his apology, the kids push you two under some construction paper and white puffball mistletoe. 

MacCready- RJ is a single father who is still getting over the death of his wife. He has yet to move on in part due to his son’s illness. You are an heiress to a rather large fortune, but you’re told that you have a year to get a job and learn about good old fashioned hard work before you’re allowed to have access to the fortune. You start out with no discernible skills, so you become a babysitter for RJ. He goes to work in the evening as a security guard and you take care of Duncan at home. Duncan confesses to you that things haven’t been the same since his mother died. One night, you decide to ask Duncan what he wants for Christmas, and he tells you that he told the Santa Claus at the mall that he wants his dad to be okay. One night, RJ comes home and confesses that with the holidays coming up, he doesn’t know if he can afford to keep paying you to watch him every night, to which you reply that you’d gladly work for half salary. One night, you two stay up until Duncan has to get up for school, just talking about your lives. MacCready starts inviting you on outings with him and Duncan. One day, after RJ loses his job and can no longer to afford medicine for Duncan, you confess to him that you’ve been rich the entire time, and that you can pay for it yourself. MacCready accuses you of lying to him this entire time about who you are, and he asks if he can ever trust you again. You tell him that omitting to your fortune was a lie, but your feelings for him never were. You two make up, move into a house together, and Duncan thanks you for granting him his wish. 

Nick Valentine- Did someone say GHOST ROMANCE? Yes, I did. You inherit a small farmhouse from an old relative that you haven’t seen in years. You go to get a good look at to see if it’s even salvageable, and you find that not only is it relatively well kept, but things move when you’re not looking. You spend the night and are woken up in the middle of the night by someone rummaging around in the attic. You find Nick, and you threaten to call the police. He’s polite, and promises it’s not what it looks like, but tells you not to call the police. When you do, they show up to find nothing in your house. Once they leave, you turn back, and Nick is in your house again. He explains that he’s a ghost, and for some reason, he can only be seen by the deed holder of the house, which is why your relative hasn’t been to the house in years. Nick explains that he died in this house a few decades ago, but he doesn’t know how it happened. Determined to figure it out in hopes that it can help him pass on, he was looking in the attic to see if it might have any proof of how he died and if foul play was involved. Over the course of your investigations, you two become good friends, and as much as you want it to be more, you tell yourself that it could never happen. Together, you slowly piece together that Nick was murdered just before proposing to the daughter of someone who used to own the house. As you and Nick celebrate this information, you realize that Nick hasn’t passed on. Nick explains that ghosts can’t pass on until they feel they have nothing to leave behind. He explains that he has grown attached to you, and doesn’t want to leave you behind. You move into the Farmhouse with Nick where you two live until your spirits can both pass on together. 

Piper- Piper is a journalist who has been tasked with writing a weekly features column about Christmas, but she has found herself disillusioned with the holidays. She thought she’d be getting a Christmas bonus that she could use to buy Nat something special, but there was never a bonus, and money is really really tight. You’re quite literally the child of Santa Claus who has been sent out into the world to be with the people and really learn what the true meaning of Christmas is before you start your apprenticeship with your father to be the next in line. You meet Piper at charity event where you’re gathering toys to send to low income communities. After Piper interviews you, you start asking her questions, and upon seeing that the cold world has turned such a warm heart into a Christmas cynic, you decide to give her the Christmas of a lifetime. I’m talking ice skating, light shows, snow on christmas, and Nat getting a few extra presents. On Christmas eve, you’re called back to the North Pole. Your dad wants you to start your apprenticeship with him on Christmas by seeing how it’s done. You tell him that you can’t, because you have your own duties this Christmas, and he’s proud of you for that. You tell Piper about your dad, and she doesn’t believe you at first, but after bringing her and Nat to the North Pole to see it all happen, she apologizes for not believing you. You kiss, and agree to split time between the North Pole and Piper’s hometown, because you would never make her give up what she loves. 

Preston- You grew up in a small town, but moved to the city to get a job at an ad agency. Around the holidays, your agency notes that they’re looking for something more down-to-earth and rustic for their new ‘winter campaign,’ so they send you to your hometown for Christmas. They’re expecting a campaign plan by new years, but while you’re trying to do your job, you find Preston, selling Christmas trees at the local Christmas tree farm and greenhouse. He teaches you to slow down, and to appreciate a christmas built on family, camaraderie, and love. You use your ad/social media experience to save his dying christmas tree farm. At the end of the year, you decide to quit your job and stay with Preston, who brings you on as a partner in the business and in life. 

X6-88- X6 is a loan company executive who has been sent to audit the inn that you have been taking care of since your spouse passed away years ago. He’s quite serious and no-nonsense, which clashes with the capacity for compassion that you clearly possess. He thinks such traits are inefficient and pointless. Despite that, you include him in all of the Christmas dinners and events that you have planned, even if he’s not enthused about them. Through the Christmastime events that you plan for the inn throughout the Christmas season, X6 realizes that you’re not just all heart and no head. You have great ideas, and you’re inclusive of him even when he’s pessimistic. He uses his own knowledge of your loan plan to outsmart his own company and save your inn for the time being. He decides to leave his job in the city to live with you at the inn so he can handle the business and finances. 

[mrvdocks]

Nightcall P.2

Summary: Kurt is obsessive over a model and kidnaps her, taking her along for the ride of the night. P.2

You feel the tiredness behind your eyes when they flutter open, your chest rises and falls slowly as you take in your surroundings. You were home. It was close to six now, but some light still came in through your shades and illuminated your living room sunset orange. 

You sit up in confusion, was the whole Spree a dream? More like a nightmare. 

Your head is killing you, almost as if there’s a jackhammer in your skull. 

You rub at your eyes tiredly, standing up too quick and needing to balance yourself on the arm of the couch you were just laying on. 

The apartment’s empty, save for some background noise coming from your laptop. 

That’s odd, you didn’t remember leaving your laptop on.

Your vision blurs for a moment but sharpens on the image in front of you. The chat in the live stream is going nuts with all sorts of comments ranging from “when are we going to see some gory shit?” to “bring back Bobby!” 

That’s when you realize the person on the live stream is you. 

The comments change to asking you if all of this is real and if Kurt is coming back. 

Your eyes widen as you read his name. 

That’s when you hear him. 

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was starting to get scared that I used too much of the stuff.” 

You don’t know how much tensing your body can take. You put the screen down, meeting a smiling Kurt who’s dressed in Bobby’s clothes. You know it’s his because of the sponsors you helped him get. 

You grab at the nearest thing on the table, brandishing a leftover metal fork at him. 

It merely amuses him as he puts your hand down with ease and takes the fork away. 

“Come on, did you really think I was going to hurt you? You, of all people? I have no reason to do that.”

“You’ve done worse for less,” you shudder, glancing behind you to find a way out. 

“You’re not in any danger with me. You’re safe, okay?” He takes small steps towards you, hands out in a gesture to relax you.

It doesn’t work, it only makes you more nervous. For every step he takes forward, you take one back.

“I bet you’re hungry.” He says, disappearing into your kitchen. 

You take this chance to run into your room, remembering there was a landline you never paid attention to there. Maybe you could get out of this still.

Much to your dismay, the line’s been cut by Kurt anyway. 

“I didn’t want us to be interrupted.” He says, bringing in his concoction of food. 

You don’t have the strength in you to fight and your stomach grumbles at the sight of the food. He holds it out in front of you, waiting. 

You stare at it, trying to figure out if anything’s wrong with it.

“I didn’t poison it or anything if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

When you don’t believe him, he takes a bite out of the sandwich and scarfs it down immediately. Nothing happens.

You take it from him slowly and bite at it before completely devouring it whole. 

“Good. You’re going to need energy for later.” He leaves you alone to go back into the living room.

You don’t understand what he means until you hear something drag against your floors. He reappears in your bedroom dragging the body of the same man from the earlier Spree. 

You instantly feel sick to your stomach, the food you just ate reaching your throat as you gag at the smell. 

You shudder lowly, feeling your shoulders shake and your chest heave as you clasp your hand over your mouth in an attempt to calm yourself.

The dead body in front of you was very much freaking you the fuck out and you didn’t know whether to scream or to cry about your situation.

Kurt makes quick work of the man’s possessions, pocketing them to probably discard them later. 

“People are just so rude,” He says. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

Kurt killing someone for demeaning you is something you didn’t see coming. Then again, you didn’t really see yourself being kidnapped on the list of things that would happen this week.

“This makes you worse than Bobby. No, worse than anyone.” 

You don’t know where the sudden fuel to comment on his actions came, you were still scared but somehow it came barreling out. 

He stops what he’s doing, looking at you in disappointment. 

He really couldn’t expect you to go along with this, could he?

“Bobby and I are different, you know that. This is different.” 

You didn’t know him. 

“So what? You don’t like how the world treated you so you just do whatever you like? Murder as you please?” 

He doesn’t argue back, he doesn’t need to. You’re right. 

“I’m not just doing this for myself.” He rubs at his temple. 

“Kurt,” you muster enough courage to look him dead straight in the eyes. “Do not do this and say that it’s for me. I won’t hesitate -”

“To leave? Go ahead, you’ve had all this time.” 

He renders you speechless. He was right, you could’ve easily overpowered him with anything in the room. But if he was so infatuated with you the right thing would’ve been to let you go without consequence.

“You said you trusted me.” He murmurs. 

“You ran a fucking light and now you’re a serial killer! It doesn’t apply to both!” 

“I’m - I’m not the bad guy here!” He huffs incredulously, as if everything he did wasn’t affecting him psychologically the way it was you. “If anything, I’m doing the world a favor! These are scum of the earth people!”

He calms down. “They get it.” 

He points presumably to the laptop mere feet away from you both. The sounds of the stream popped up one after the other.

“Really? Because as far as everybody’s concerned, they all think this is some kind of fucked up joke!” 

“Let them believe what they want to believe. They’re finally watching me!” 

It doesn’t matter to him that they’re insulting him in the comments, or that he killed someone he considered a friend. 

“So everyone has an expiration date for you.” You conclude. 

He was only going to use people up. That should’ve been common sense. You don’t understand why that fact made you feel a little dejected. You wish he could revert back to the Kurt you met. 

“Do I have an expiration date?” 

“No.” He assures. “But if this is going to work I need you to be okay with this.” 

“I’m not.” 

Fighting him was futile. You were forced into it. You wanted so desperately to warn these people and get the word out. But that's also what he would've wanted. He wanted you to give him exposure. The officer still thinks you did it all willingly, but the footage was more than enough to help you get off with a few repercussions. 

You wish you could forget the screams of the people in the car, a thousand washes with soap couldn’t get rid of the blood on your hands. Even if some of them really were assholes, shouldn’t they have also had a chance at redemption?

With each spree, Kurt only was egged on by the audience and those that found the livestream later. Many of them called for you to do something equally as horrifying but you couldn’t. Many suggested for him to get rid of you since you were being ‘boring’. He wouldn’t do it. 

And that’s when he set his sights on Jessie. After promptly kidnapping her and trying to convince her to join him to no avail, he takes both of you back to his house. You had enough. You wanted a way out and Jessie was it. You just didn’t know everything would end so bloody. 

There’s an ensuing fight, she strangles Kurt with the phone charger and knocks you back in an attempt to stop it. The back of your head collides with the passenger window harshly, forcing you to screech in pain.

Kurt doesn’t take it well.

She swindles Kurt, taking the gun he kept in the glove compartment and arming herself with it. This wasn’t how you wanted it to go. You just wanted her to scare him enough to turn himself in. 

But the crazed look in her eye suggested that wasn’t happening.

The final battle takes place at his home. Where all his dirty secrets are let out.

“I’ll shoot you both if you don’t move!”

You keep your hands up, shielding Kurt with your body. 

“Jessie please, let’s think about this.”

“And let him get away with all of this? He’s brainwashed you already.” 

“He hasn’t - listen he won’t get away with this. Jessie please, give me the gun.”

She wavers, the barrel pointed directly at you. Your heart is beating so fast you almost think you’ll die from a heart attack before the bullet even reaches you. 

“No! No, this has to end. He’s fucking crazy, can’t you see that??! This was always going to end with one of us dead anyway, and it’s not going to be me.” She points behind you and almost pulls the trigger but is stopped by you lunging at her. 

“No!” You yell.

You tackle her onto the floor, the back of her head bouncing off the leg of the pool table and knocking her unconscious.

You press your index finger against her neck, feeling her pulse. You sigh in relief. 

“Why didn’t you let her do it?” Kurt asks suddenly. 

“She was going to kill you. I don’t know how I’d feel about that.”

Kurt had no problem having these people on his conscience, but you did. Maybe killing him would be good, but him facing justice for what he did would be better. He could atone for all of this. 

“Even after what I did to you?”

You don’t answer and instead prop Jessie against the wall. You were honestly very sorry for it but you were optimistic about the outcome of all of this. 

Kurt bends to your level and takes you into his arms, squeezing you tight. 

“We did it!” He celebrates prematurely, Jesse’s not even dead but it doesn’t matter to him. He thinks you’re on his side, that’s more than enough. 

You smile nervously, his forehead touching yours in what he believes is a tender moment. 

“What are you going to do to her?” You’re afraid of the answer. 

Kurt’s mood shifts immediately, serious now. 

“I have to get rid of her now obviously. If she won’t join us then there’s no point to her.”

His quick response is enough for you to discard all hope that he would walk away from this. You grip the gun in your right hand, sure that he hasn’t seen it. 

“This is going to be great! We’re going to be even bigger than all these assholes. And you can finally be by my side, as it should be.” 

Your blood runs cold. He’s a dead man walking at this point. 

You say fuck it as you abandon all morals. With the free hand you have, you bring it to the nape of his neck and press your lips against his. He’s so distracted by it that he doesn’t feel the front of the gun pressed against his abdomen. 

It’s only when you feel your finger pull back the trigger that the shot startles you both and he opens his eyes to looks at you in shock. 

You unload another shot into him. He crawls away from you and applies pressure onto his wound, howling in pain.

He looks at you again, hurt and confusion clear on his face. He reaches for you, calling for you in between coughing fits and cries of pain.

You empty the last bullet into his shoulder, sending him backward. 

There’s a ringing in your ear that drowns out the sirens in the distance. You don’t know who managed to call them but you’re thankful to end this nightmare. You’re still holding the gun out but it only takes you a second to realize you’re screaming. Absolute guttural and gut-wrenching wailing. 

When they arrive, the paramedics have to sedate you to calm you down. Jessie is taken in the ambulance while an officer tries to get you out of the house while you’re still conscious. Kurt’s body lays limp in a pool of red, his hand still reaching and glazed eyes staring back at you.

It haunts you.

“People like Kurt needed a partner. We believe he was targeting Ms. Adams previously before his attention turned to you. Do you know why that is?”

You lie. “No.”

It’s easy to say you never knew his intentions. They were spur of the moment decisions. Everything was chance. You can't explain yourself or Kurt’s psyche to her, there’s no easy way to do it. 

She sighs. “Listen, whatever good you think you saw in him, whatever ramble about the real world you think you understood - was never there.” 

Her words should make you feel better, comfort you in the fact that you developing some sort of twisted attachment with your kidnapper wasn’t your fault. You don’t know how to feel, you just feel...empty.

“It doesn’t matter now.” You shrug. 

“You said Kurt told you something before he died. What was it?”

You let your heavy eyes close in exhaustion. You don’t remember why you told them that, but it must’ve slipped out in questioning. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t remember.” 

Unsure if she believes you or not but knowing there’s nothing else to keep you here, she dismisses you. You trudge out of the interrogation room and out of the station into the cold. You don’t bother with ordering a ride, it’s been ruined for you. 

Instead you walk it home, feeling yourself go into autopilot. You think you see his face in every driver that passes you.

You’re sure you look catatonic to people but you don’t care. You just want to rest.

As soon as you’re home you slip into the bathroom, turn on the shower until it’s steaming and let everything out. 

In the weeks that follow, you and Jessie are thrown into the stratosphere of fame. While she’s more content with her newfound trajectory and takes advantage of it, you decline every interview and prying noses that ask you to explain your relationship with Kurt. It’s all part of their circle jerk of tragedy, milking the victims for information and glamour. 

Kurt’s regarded as a loser by those who are saner than he was and a god by those on the internet. You’re not entirely surprised.

You think it’s all over when months pass without incident until one day your friends send you a link to something on Reddit, which you don’t think twice about. 

You regret it as soon as you see Kurt’s face in the thumbnail. Someone took all the footage from that night and was going to broadcast it later to show off their own documentary. 

You don’t use social media anymore.

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Just read your post and agree with everything, esp about bad ship theories. One thing you said, kinda stuck out. The voting argument where Jimin went without JK, so therefore they seem to live in different areas. Then does this mean you think Vmin live in different areas? I mean, if they have been together for years, why would they not be living together? IDK, I just always kinda felt Vmin low key live together this whole time, but now your answer has me doubting that. You don't think Vmin do?

Admin 2: Hello anon,

In my reply I will try to convey to you my personal point of view in regard to Vmin and their relationship and in this case, how I see the question of them of living together.

The fact that four BTS members voted at the polling stations of their district shows that not all of them are registered in Hannam in their shared dorm.

We know, and it is no secret, that Taehyung bought an apartment in autumn 2019 in which, as you can see, he also seems to be registered. We know that Hobi and Jungkook bought their apartments at the end of 2018 in the same building and supposedly even on the same floor. Taehyung has posted photos from what looks like his apartment more than once and it is no secret that he owns and stays in this apartment. During some program on TV, one of his Wooga squad friends talked to Taehyung on FaceTime, who seemed to be at home in his apartment and wondered what he should eat.

Of course, there is more information from illegal sources, but we will not touch any of that.

It is known about Jimin and his living situation that his apartments (building) are under renovation.

Ok that's official facts of things we know. However, we do not know what the actual living situation of the individual members looks like.

Actually, all options are theoretically possible, but based on some logical considerations, some arrangements can be deduced. The fact that Taehyung is not registered in the dorm does not mean that he does not live there, or at least that he does not stay for a long time.

Jimin likely being officially registered as living at the dorm does not deny that he could also spend some time at Taehyung’s apartment. Do you understand what I'm going for? However, I exclude that officially Vmin or any couple could officially be live together. We have heard more than once about the obsessiveness of fans, about the stalking of the saessangs, about them occupying whatever buildings BTS are staying at, about the way they even go after the members families to get their hands on any kind of information’s.

Therefore, the best solution for Vmin is that they have access to Taehyung’s apartment. I think that in the dorm, and anywhere else (except for their bedrooms within the dorm), it would be impossible to lead any kind of relationship in peace.

There are all sorts of people at the dorm, their staff (like their managers) have success to the dorm and could just walk in at any time. The mere fact that Vmin (we assume they are a romantic couple) is in a fragile relationship and therefore any kind of leak, so to speak, would lead to a catastrophe. Antis and alike are just waiting for such "interesting" details from the private lives of the BTS members.

I believe that it is not possible to have any romantic relationship in a classic way within the group, and it is completely impossible for two members suspected of a romance to live together. (The same applies to J/k/ok etc.)

However, I am personally convinced that Vmin spends a lot of time together, even if only because they study together for their now master’s degree. I suspect they stay a lot together because Jimin wears Taehyung's clothes (especially his oversized boots) because even after work he was supposed to go to Tae (or Tae to Jimin) during the Billboard H100 # 1 night. We have screenshots of conversations with fans during games where Tae said he had to stop because Jimin had just made ramen, some other time he’d mentioned he was planning on doing something with Jimin the next day etc. Jimin said during Vlive in April 2020 that him and Tae like to go driving at night and many other things.

"Someday, when these cheers die down, stay hey

Stay with me by my side"

And that is also my opinion: A normal relationship will only be possible for Vmin when they are no longer the most famous musicians in the world living in a very conservative Korea, especially since they (and other members as well) still have to go to their military service in the VERY conservative Korean Army. Actual suspicions of a queer relationship within the group could and likely would only endanger the members during their service, just like I previously mentioned in my reply to an ask about Jin’s reaction to Taehyung’s “Jiminah I like you the most”.

I would also like to add some observations and thoughts to members speaking about their situation in life.

I have a strong impression that it doesn't matter so much to the fans whether Namjoon or Yoongi or even Jin live at the dorm or anywhere else.

What obsessive fans care about is where and with whom the maknaes live.

Therefore, I often get the impression that some dialogues, some scenes in RUN or interviews or other shows are shown in such a way that there is some confusion about who with who and confusion about where the maknaes live and whether they live together or not. I may be delulu, but I often get such an impression, especially when it comes to Jimin, that he deliberately says certain things in a way that can be interpreted in multiples ways, or like they mean something, even though likely it doesn’t mean anything at all.

We know Jimin is very private and doesn’t readily share private information’s, so it just seems like he “feeds” obsessive shippers, of whom I’m sure he’s well aware they are listening and just waiting for it, something that really is empty just so they have something to do, like JK saying he wants to make pizza at the end of some RUN episode to which Jimin asked “at home?” which was asked (or at least translated by weverse/vlive) in such a manner that shippers spent the next two weeks discussing what home he meant and if that means they do live together. Because of that, really, Jungkook can keep his privacy, as can vmin, since shippers will hold on to those empty phrases (fanservice) while the members can do whatever they want away from the cameras. Does that make sense? So, in the end, even if it seems like Jimin shared some insight into their living arrangements, we really still know nothing at all about where the maknaes live and with whom. It’s very smart PR and fits with the media training Idols in general seem to receive.

Edit: I read your comments and I want to clarify what I meant with the above part about Jimin, since I really didn’t mean to shift the blame for bad shipper behavior on him in any kind of way: 

I’m sure we’ve all seen bad shippers make the argument that the members that are part of their ship supposedly purposefully say certain things to send them “secret/hidden messages” or “hints” that “only they will understand” which in turn are meant to prove their ships. That’s what I meant by “seems to “feed””, not that he’s purposefully “lying” in their favor or feeding into their weird fantasies, but rather that the vague things he sometimes says, or his occasionally cheeky/teasing comments made in good fun with the other members, are taken by shippers and interpreted in ways to fit their narratives, even if what Jimin says has nothing to do with ships at all, he’s obviously just joking/teasing, or it’s just a vague “empty”/deflective statement to keep private info private. 

In all those cases the blame is on shippers and their bad behavioral habits of twisting the members words instead of listening properly and realizing that Jimin is joking or that what he said isn’t a hint or anything at all.

After all, Jimin said so much, supposedly, and yet we know nothing, not even about him and Taehyung studying together, which was quite literally never mentioned by them. Not even once in passing.

Of course, everything I've written is just my personal opinion and point of view. I could of course be totally wrong.

From anon: I agree that "Feeding the Schipers" isn't the happiest phrase, but I get what is going on. I think what J/m says and how he says it is like fodder for ships. I don't think he's doing it on purpose, however. Definitely not. J/m has this style of teasing, joking and shippers buying it as "secret confessions or notices" but a cool comment in general.

Admin 1: I’d like to quote myself from my asks post yesterday as reply to this ask, since it fits here as well:

Besides, at the end of the day, their living arrangements are not something we are privy to and that we shouldn’t try to figure out either. The members say they still live at the dorm, and if that’s the version they want us to believe, that’s the one I’ll stick to, unless they tell me otherwise.

[joonie-beanie]

Of Nudes And Praise

Pairing: Asmodeus x Reader

Word Count: 6,071

Preview: You've been feeling...needy...and decide to ask Asmodeus for some help.

And by that, you mean if he can spare you any toys.

However, when the Avatar of Lust is involved, you tend to get more than what you bargained for.

** Please note that this is a cross-posting **

This chapter was originally posted on 3/8/20 as a part of my “Devil Doms” series on AO3.

When you’d first arrived in the Devildom—overwhelmed with the new situation and all you had to learn—you’d accidentally forgotten about some important, basic tasks.

Like doing laundry.

You hadn’t thought to ask about cleaning your clothes until 2 weeks in, when you’d had nothing to wear but a pair of pajamas. Thankfully, at that point you’d been comfortable enough around Mammon to ask him if they had a place to do their laundry (which of course they did), and you’d spent the entire weekend washing and folding clothes.

And then, when you started to break out, you’d remembered that skin care was a thing too. Asmodeus had been kind enough to give you some products to use, and you were always grateful for all of the boy’s hospitality.

Now, months later, you’ve mostly remembered all the little things you should be doing. Except…

Your fingers reach between your legs, pressing at your aching clit. It’s been so long since you’ve gotten off, and ever since the realization struck you a few days ago, you’ve only managed to work yourself up.

“C’mon,” you hiss, biting your lip as you lean forward, your forearm resting on the vanity in your bathroom. The room is humid from your shower—fog coating the mirror in front of you, but even so you can see the look of desperation on your face.

You really need to cum. Just once. Once is all you need, really. Just enough so you can clear your head. Then, you bet you’ll be fine.

“Come on!” you huff, your hand still working between your legs, but you know it’s no use. With a sigh, you give up—head hanging in defeat. You’ve never been good at getting off without a trusty toy, and at this point you’re just starting to rub yourself raw.

Frowning, a little disgruntled, you stand tall and run a hand through your damp hair. There’s an unsatisfied ache in your gut, and you try your best to ignore it as you return to your bedroom and rummage around for clean clothes to wear. However, the more you attempt to ignore it, the more you crave release, and it doesn’t take long for you to break down.

Pulling on a hoodie and a pair of leggings, you exit your room—making your way to the one person you’re sure will help.

…one way or another.

Knock Knock

“Oh, who could it be~!” A sing-song voice calls from the other side of the door, and you’re tempted to roll your eyes.

“It’s me!” you say, a small smile tugging at your lips as you hear footfalls getting closer. After a few seconds, the door is opened, and you find Asmo grinning back at you.

“Oh, my dear~ This is an unexpected, albeit welcome visit. What can I do for you?”

Without waiting for your response, he turns on his heel and strides back into his room. You assume that’s his way of inviting you in, and you step inside—closing the door behind you. For a moment, you simply watch him. He’s dressed only in a robe—makeup sprawled across his vanity, and his hair pinned on his head thanks to a butterfly clip. From the look of it, he’s going out tonight—which doesn’t surprise you in the least.

“Hmm, I don’t mind if you stare, Y/N—I do know I’m beautiful—but I have to get going soon, ya know?” the Avatar of Lust pipes up, staring at you through the vanity mirror. When you flush red in embarrassment, he winks.

“So, what’s on your mind?”

“I, um…,” you start, holding your arms in front of you. Your eyes scan the floor at your feet, and Asmo’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He’s never seen you quite so flustered before.

“I…was wondering if you can hook me up with some…toys?” you say, although you end in a squeak. Honestly, on your way here you had been determined to just be casual about it. After all, this is Asmo! He loves to talk about sex, and anything of the like! So there’s no reason for you to be feeling so…shy, but you can’t help yourself.

You’re basically admitting that you’re horny and need some help.

At your words, stars light up in the Avatar of Lust’s eyes.

“Ehhhhh~? So you do have those kinds of feelings?!” he speaks, surprise in his tone. You pout your lips at him, glaring a little.

“Of course I do! It’s just…I’ve finally reached the point where I need to do something about it,” you admit. You move to sit against the edge of his mattress, and Asmo’s gaze follows you through the mirror. “At first it was easy to ignore, but…now I seriously need an orgasm, if only for my own sanity.”

You laugh a little, feeling more comfortable as you talk. Asmodeus hums.

Standing, the Avatar of Lust reaches up to undo the clip in his hair—tossing the piece of plastic back onto the vanity—and then moves to join you. You shiver as his fingers crawl against the back of your neck, his grip settling on you he pulls you in—pressing a soft kiss to your heated cheek.

“You’re very cute when you’re embarrassed,” he giggles, his other hand moving to rest on the upper part of your thigh. He gives it a little squeeze, and you feel a bit of heat flare between your legs in response. Even if Asmodeus’s powers don’t work on you, that doesn’t mean you don’t feel attraction towards him.  You’ve listened to his tales of passion countless times over the last few months, and while at the time they hadn’t affected you, now—if you think of the way he described his hands on a woman’s body, or the things he had made her say and feel—now…they definitely make your heart skip a beat.

“But!” he continues, disappearing from around you. You blink, eyes following him as he bustles across the room. “Lucky for you, I’ve got a few gifts from admirers set aside!”

Asmo disappears into his closet, and you hear him digging around in what you can only assume is an overwhelming amount of clothes and personal items. After a minute, he reappears, a gift box in his grasp—topped with a bow and everything.

“Do you…get a lot of gifts you just ignore?” you ask him, lifting your arms to take the box from him when he stops in front of you and holds it out.

“Mmmm, I mean, how can I possibly keep up with them all?? Sometimes they just get put aside to be used at a later date. But now they’re yours!” he says cheerily, rocking on his heels. “And don’t worry!” He swoops down to hug you tight. “I picked the items I think you would like~!”

Asmo cradles your face against his chest, and you can smell the sweet perfume on him. It’s almost intoxicating. However, before you have a chance to think to hug him back, or comment on how good he smells, once again the Avatar of Lust is gone from your side. He returns to his vanity, picking up a tube of crimson lipstick. He raises it to his lips, but doesn’t apply it. Instead, he pauses, his eyes landing on you once more—contemplative.

“Actually,” he twits the lipstick back into place, caps it, and then tosses it towards you. By some miracle, you manage to catch it, and Asmo winks at you. “Take this too. The color will look good on you. Now--!” he finally gets back to his work—immersing himself in applying makeup and dolling himself up for his night out.

“—as much as I would love to personally stay and help you, I do have plans I should probably keep, and I need to finish getting ready. Feel free to text me to let me know if you’re having fun while I’m gone though~”

He ends with another wink—that same, teasing sparkle in his eye—and you can’t help but laugh.

“Sure, we’ll see,” you say, and Asmo giggles as you show yourself to the door.

In all honesty, you never intended to text Asmo.

You’d gotten back to your room, opened up his package, and unloaded the contents—of which included: a vibrator, a tube of stimulating lube, a sheer set of pink lingerie, and a pair of fuzzy handcuffs. The items had made you flush red despite your brain trying to convince you they were all fairly normal to receive in a “hope this helps with your horniness” gift basket.

Perhaps it was just the fact that Asmodeus had given it to you that was really the issue. He was only being a good friend, but…realizing that the Avatar of Lust had given you a package of naughty things to use…it managed to light a fire in your gut.

Too needy to be shy, you had immediately grabbed the vibrator and lube. Within minutes, you managed to bring yourself to climax—Asmodeus’s name hanging on your tongue as you rode out the waves of pleasure. It only seemed right to think of him. After all, he was the Avatar of Lust. (Or, at least, that’s what you convince yourself. In reality, you’ve likely got some more intimate feelings for the demon that you still need to work out—but that sounds like a lot of work).

After cumming, you bid your time—lazing in your bed with your D.D.D, and trying to keep yourself occupied. However…it doesn’t take long for your attention to shift over to the opened package on your dresser, the rest of it’s contents still inside and waiting to be used.

Well, maybe I can have a little more fun, you think to yourself, and hop out of bed. You gingerly remove the pink lingerie from the box and inspect it. The material is completely see-through—a two-piece set. Both the tops and bottoms have a cute lettuce trim—the top looking to be off the shoulder and elastic lined, and the bottoms a little too small for comfort—a classic tie-able bikini type.

You bite your lip.

You actually want to try them on.

So—still naked from your previous round of self-love—you hurriedly pull the top over your head. It takes a minute to tie the bottoms correctly and evenly, but once you do, you step in front of your floor length mirror and give yourself a once-over.

Asmo obviously wasn’t lying when he said he had picked them with you in mind…the lingerie fits like a dream, and as embarrassed as you are, you feel very pretty.

Humming to yourself, you begin posing—surveying yourself from different angles. There are still certain areas of yourself you’re not totally confident about, but overall you feel…good.

Good enough to begin taking selfies.

You’re not exactly skilled in the art of taking lewd photos, but you’re not unfamiliar with it either. You know a few good angles.

Grabbing your D.D.D, you open the camera app and begin your photoshoot. Within the span of minutes, your camera roll is filled with dozens of new photos—ass pressed out, and tits squished together. You pout your lips as you begin scrolling through your gallery—deleting the photos that don’t piqué your interest. However, in the end you still have a handful of good pictures to choose from, and your heart begins to beat unsteadily in your chest as the idea of sending one to Asmodeus resurfaces.

He’d probably like it…, you reassure yourself, clicking on your favorite photo. Your body is sideways to the mirror—the curve of your ass accentuated, and your tits round and perky beneath the mesh lingerie.

Squashing any of your self-doubt, you open your chat with Asmo and send the photo.

Not knowing what to say, you don’t say anything. Simply…wait to see if he notices your message.

You’re about to close the app and head to Devilgram (hoping to keep yourself busy and not worry), when all of the sudden dots appear at the bottom of the chat. You immediately freeze, gaze locked onto your screen as Asmo types out his message.

Asmodeus: Ara~ Looks like you’re having fun without me. How rude of you~

Asmodeus: You do look scrumptious in that lingerie, though. I definitely picked well!

Asmodeus: If you’re willing, I’d love to see more~

You roll your eyes at his flirting, your cheeks feeling warm.

You: Maybe if you say please~

His response is immediate.

Asmodeus: Look at you, teasing me when I’m not there to put you in your place~

Again, you’re tempted to roll your eyes, but instead you dig out your next favorite photo and hit send. This time you’re facing the mirror—thighs shyly pressed together, and an arm wrapped around your torso beneath your bust line—causing your breasts to squish together.

You: I’ll tease you as much as I want to.

This time, there’s a beat of silence before he responds.

Asmodeus: Are you sure you want to do that? I am a man, you know.

Unconsciously, your legs rub together—arousal swirling in your gut.

You: I’m very sure of what I want, Asmo.

You stare at your screen, waiting for him to respond, but he doesn’t. A check mark letting you know that he’d seen your message pops up beside the bubble, and you feel your heart sink a little. Had you said something wrong?

Frowning, you stare at the chat for a little too long, hoping to see the ellipses appear at the bottom of the chat, but they don’t. Asmodeus is silent.

Sighing, you press to your feet, and head into your bathroom. You survey yourself in the mirror, wondering if perhaps your self-image is off, but shake your head. You’re sure you look cute like this, Asmodeus is probably just busy. He went out tonight to have a good time—he’s likely partying and doesn’t have time to respond.

Nodding, silently holding onto the notion that he’s likely preoccupied, you pull out a face mask and decide to pamper yourself. Really, anything that will take your mind off the Avatar of Lust and help you to not overthink the current situation.

Once the mask is in place, you heft yourself up onto the sink counter, and continue scrolling through your phone. You click into Devilgram, laughing when you swipe past a photo of Satan deadpanning at the camera. Mammon can be seen over his shoulder trying to put the moves on what looks to be an older, richer female demon.

“One day Mammon will turn into a sugar baby”, the caption reads, and your shoulders shake.

Thanks to Satan's comedic post, you actually forget about all your worries for a few minutes.

Once the face mask has started to dry out, you hop off the counter and peel the damp sheet from your face. You toss into the garbage and yawn as you head back into your bedroom. Maybe you should just sleep soon—

“Ara~?” a hand suddenly covers your eyes, an arm wrapping around you just beneath your breasts, and you gasp. The warmth of a body appears behind you—soft kisses pressing against the sensitive skin of your neck and shoulders.

“I was hoping I’d find you writhing on your bed moaning my name~ Did you decide to wait knowing I’d come?”

“A-Asmo?” you breathe, shivering in his hold as he hugs you tighter against him. You can feel something poignant and hard rub against your ass, and you stiffen—heat scorching the inside of your stomach as you realize how aroused he is at the moment.

And it’s likely all thanks to you.

“I…,” you struggle to respond, your voice shaking as he moves his hand to grip your breast—giving it a soft squeeze.

“Mmm~ you look even better in person. The lingerie fits you so well,” he purrs, tongue tracing a wet strip up your neck. Again, you gasp, your ass curving against him as you attempt to get away from the overwhelming sensation. Your neck has always been sensitive, but somehow your current lack of sight has raised the stakes ever higher.

“W-Why are you here? I thought—”

“How could I stay out knowing that you’re at home playing with yourself and looking so delicious?” he responds, not bothering to let you finish. His hand releases your breast—his fingers coasting down the front of your torso. You feel his touch brush against the edge of your lingerie bottoms, and you inhale sharply.

“Are you nervous?” he asks, noticing your reaction. His teeth nip at the lobe of your ear. “Or aroused?”

“Both,” you respond honestly, face feeling like a tomato.

Sure, you had hoped to tease Asmo and get a reaction out of him by sending your lewd selfie, but you had never expected him to abandon his night out to come and find you!

“Why are you nervous?” he questions, his hand not sinking lower. Instead, his fingers move to tug at the ties of the bikini. You feel the fabric loosen ever so slightly, but it’s clear he has no intention of undressing you until you answer him.

“I…didn’t expect this,” you tell him, biting your lip when he peppers your neck with more kisses. The soft sensation causes goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“I can stop if this isn’t what you want,” he says, breath fanning against you. You’re quick to shake your head, and Asmo giggles.

“Okay, so you don’t want me to stop then. That makes me happy~ Because I really don’t want to.”

His fingers tug a little harder at the ties to the lingerie bottoms, and you startle. As much as you want nothing more than for him to touch you—

“Are you sure I’m good enough?”

His movements halt, the world standing still.

You blink as Asmo removes his hand from atop your eyes—the Avatar of Lust gently using his hold on your hip to spin you so you’re facing him.

“What do you mean by that?” he asks seriously. Your gaze darts away, too many emotions plaguing you at once. You’re standing in front of him, practically naked—flustered beyond belief thanks to his touches—and now he’s seriously trying to embarrass you more with his question.

“Y/N.” Asmo’s hand moves to cup your cheek, and he coaxes you to look at him. There’s a perplexed look on his face, like he’s confused and frustrated at the same time.

“I just…you’re the Avatar of Lust, and you’re beautiful,” you tell him quietly, one of your hands raising to press against his own as you lean into him. “I’m sure you could have the most attractive people in the world if you wanted to. You’ve already had so many. I guess…I’m just worried I’ll be forgettable.”

You laugh a little, closing your eyes as you flash him a bitter sweet smile. You’d seriously been trying to have confidence in yourself tonight, but—

“Mmph!” You startle as his lips crash into yours—his hand leaving your hip and finding purchase in your hair instead. As Asmo tugs at your roots, he deepens the kiss—his tongue sneaking into your mouth and stealing your breath away. You’re helpless but to moan against him, the daintiest of the brothers suddenly overwhelming you with his presence.

“You have no idea—,” he speaks against your lips, taking a step forward and in turn causing you to stumble back. “—how long I’ve wanted to touch you.”

You gasp when your legs hit the edge of your bed—your knees giving out beneath you, and your body landing on the mattress unceremoniously. Immediately Asmo is kneeling over you, his lips once again finding yours.

“You’re so adorable,” he tells you, his kisses straying from your mouth—trailing across your cheek and onto your jaw. “So pretty, so cute—and you really think you’ll end up being forgettable?”

“I--,” you struggle to find your words, your brain feeling like it’s in overload. At your obvious dilemma on how to respond, Asmo pulls back, glancing at your face. You’re redder than he’s ever seen—your eyes wide, and lips parted. A twinkle appears in his gaze as a lightbulb clicks on in his brain, and he grins, one of his hands moving to rest against your waist.

“Do you not like being praised?” he asks, although his tone is teasing. “Does it embarrass you hearing that your skin is so delicate and supple—that I want to touch you all over and feel every inch of it?”

Asmo’s statement has your heart hammering against your ribs—and you instinctively raise your hands to hide your face.

“Asmo~,” you whine, and the demon giggles.

“Mmm, I think I’ve been neglecting praising you. I guess I’ll have to play catch up tonight~”

You whimper, both extremely shy and aroused at the idea. You’ve always been the type to get flustered at compliments, so the thought of being praised (and by Asmo, of all people) has your heart feeling like it may beat straight out of your chest.

“First things first though—”

You feel something soft and fuzzy secure around one of your wrists, and suddenly your hand is yanked away from your face.

“Hey!” you cry, watching as Asmo forces your arm above your head. He threads the pair of handcuffs through one of the slots on the headboard and then tugs your other hand upward—fastening the free cuff around it tightly.

All of the sudden, you can no longer hide yourself from his view.

“That’s better~,” he sings, leaning down to kiss your flustered face. “It won’t be much fun if I don’t get to see all of your delectable little reactions.”

“You’re seriously trying to kill me,” you whisper against him, and the Avatar of Lust attempts to kiss your worries away.

“Maybe just a little bit,” he admits. He leaves your lips, his head moving to nestle between your breasts. Asmo makes a contented sound as he nuzzles the squishy flesh.

“But—you can always tell me to stop. I’m not a monster who disregards safe words.”

His tongue flattens against your nipple through the thin layer of lingerie, his half-lidded honey colored eyes staring up at you.

“Stoplight colors?”

“S-Sure,” you swallow, still in disbelief that Asmo is seriously about to have his way with you. Humming in acknowledgement of your response, the Avatar of Lust finally indulges himself.

He sits back, his fingers curling under the elastic hem of your top. You watch him as he keeps the band tight along your skin—dragging the hem upwards and subsequently gathering your breasts together. The elastic catches on your hardened nipples, causing your breath to catch in your throat, and Asmodeus licks his lips at the sound.

“Look at that,” he says, his gaze trailed on your tits as the mounds finally pop free—the mesh top bunched around your upper chest. Without wasting time, Asmo captures one of your nipples with his mouth—his hand moving to fondle the other. As he sucks and squeezes, you can’t help but writhe—tiny, embarrassing sounds bubbling up in your throat.

“God, your tits are so gorgeous,” he moans, being sure to press kisses to every inch of the soft skin. ��I just wanna leave marks all over them.”

Asmo takes your nipple into his mouth once more—his tongue swirling around the sensitive bud—and your chest curves into his touch. He smiles at the instinctive movement, his gaze settling on your face as he gives your nipple a small bite—watching as your eyelashes flutter, lips parting in a gasp.

“You’re just so pretty,” he speaks, one of his hands remaining on your chest while his mouth trails down your torso. He pauses to leave a few teasing kisses to your tummy, but as he does so, he suddenly freezes. He sits back slightly, blinking up at you.

“Where’s the lipstick I gave you?”

Your eyes shift to look at your dresser, and Asmodeus disappears from atop you. He quickly moves to retrieve the tube of lipstick, and your eyes sink to look at the obvious bulge trapped beneath his leather pants.

“Don’t you want to free yourself?” you ask him, motioning to his crotch. Asmo looks down at himself, and as if on cue, you see his member twitch.

“I’ve been denied a lot,” he says. “Don’t worry.”

As your mind momentarily detours to imagine what an orgasm denied, begging Asmodeus would be like, the Avatar of Lust opens the crimson colored lipstick. Within seconds, his lips are coated red, and he smiles down at you sweetly.

“When we’re done here, I want you to be able to see every place of you I’ve touched, and loved,” he says. As you flush once more at his words, Asmo leans down and presses a sweet kiss to your lips. You can feel his lipstick smear against your skin—a moan leaving you when he deepens the kiss, slotting his mouth against your own.

“Mmm, you look so good like that,” he tells you as he pulls back. The lipstick is messy on his face, but the sight only serves to arouse you.

“Touch me more,” you whisper, your hands tugging against the cuffs. You want to feel him too, but you can’t. As you pout, Asmo giggles, slinking down your body. He tracks light kisses down your sternum, his hands squishing your breasts together as he peppers the sensitive mounds with lipstick marks.

“Ahh~ I have a succubus friend who has the cutest markings,” he mumbles, once again reaching over to grab the tube of lipstick. He holds your breast with his free hand—a grin on his face. “You’d look so good with little tattoos all over you—my own personal love bug.”

Asmo presses the lipstick to your tit, drawing a perfectly shaped heart around your nipple. He then mimics the heart on your other mound—looking thoroughly satisfied with his work.

“God, you’re so fucking cute,” he breathes. You can see the hunger in his eyes—like a switch has finally been flicked in his brain. Up until now, he’s been totally content with moving slowly—teasing you—but now he looks like he’s craving more.

“You know, you can stop with the praise and just fuck me,” you tell him, hoping for a little bit of relief yourself. Not only are his words embarrassing—your heart feeling like it may explode out of your chest—but they’re arousing too. Each praise off his tongue has caused more arousal to pool between your legs, and you can feel that the skimpy lingerie bottoms are already soaked.

“Wouldn’t you like that,” Asmo grins right back, and the sparkle in his eye tells you that despite his own desires, he doesn’t intend to stop praising you anytime soon.

“Besides--,” suddenly, he reaches down, his fingers scooting beneath the hem of your bottoms and finding your womanhood. You gasp as his fingers nestle between your wet folds, gathering your arousal.

“—I think that despite your outward reactions, you get off on my praise.”

Your lips part, but no words come out. You can only stare at him, thighs shaking with need as Asmo rubs his fingers against your clit—his eyes carefully watching your reactions.

“Have I mentioned that you taste good?” he says, once again leaning down to press kisses against your torso. His mouth slowly sinks lower—his tongue licking a hot, wet strip from the edge of the lingerie panties to your navel.

“Mmm, I’m sure you taste even better here, though.” He accentuates his words by rolling your clit between his fingers, and you whine, wrists once again tugging against the cuffs.

“Please, please fuck me already, Asmo,” you beg. However, Asmo simply ignores you—moving to reapply lipstick his lips. He also pauses to draw a heart around your belly button, along with an arrow pointing down towards your most intimate area.

“There we go!” he giggles, a cute “Asmo’s <3” scribbled beside the arrow. The possessive nature has you whining even more, and the Avatar of Lust clicks his tongue.

“I promise I won’t leave you hanging~”

His fingers leave your womanhood as he scoots his way down between your legs.

“You’re leaking so much of your precious juices everywhere,” he pouts, noting how wet your bottoms have become. “But I guess I can’t complain, considering it will be so easy to put my cock into your pretty little pussy~”

“Asmo,” you try again, a shaky breath leaving you as he spreads your thighs apart. His mouth works at the supple flesh—leaving an array of kisses and bites across the skin.

“You’re shaking,” he teases, glancing up at you with a shit eating grin that honestly makes you want to kick him. You’re not exactly sure how long he’s been praising you, but it’s been too long. While he may be used to being denied, you are not, and you’re really going to lose your shit if he doesn’t put his dick in you soon.

“Please. Please fuck me,” you breathe, desperation painted clear on your face. Asmo’s fingers tug at the strings holding your bottoms in place.

“Do you admit that you’re good enough for me? That you’re beautiful, and should have never been worried?”

“Yes, yes! I’m fucking adorable and I know you want to stick your dick in me, so do it already,” you whine, your hips wiggling in his hold. He giggles.

“God, you’re so fucking precious.”

With that, he finally tugs your bottoms loose. The sheer fabric falls away, and Asmo is quick to get to work. He sits back, pulling his shirt over his head and discarding it on the floor beside your bed—his pants following soon after. As he pulls the tight leather pants down his legs, you watch his cock spring free—curving up against his stomach.

“Worth the wait?” you ask, tongue darting out to lick your lips as he kicks the fabric from around his ankles.

“Definitely,” he responds, a little breathless as he drags the head of his dick between your folds. It’s obvious that as much as he was holding himself back, he was beginning to near his breaking point as well.

Before you can think of anything more to say, Asmodeus is thrusting himself inside you. Your breath catches at the sudden stretch—but the tension held in your body is quick to melt away—a sense of satisfaction settling in your gut. This is what you’ve been waiting for.

“More.”

And the Avatar of Lust is happy to comply.

He fucks into you with just the perfect amount of roughness—enough to have your toes curling, and the bed rocking—his cock brushing up against your g-spot with every movement. The sensation quickly has you coming undone—your spine curving off the mattress and your mouth hanging open—quiet cries sneaking past your lips.

“God, just look at you,” he speaks, his hands settling on your waist as he grinds against you. You look so pretty beneath him—arms trapped above your head, and colorful kisses littering your entire body.

“A-Asmo,” you plead, wishing you could hide your face, but he only continues.

“Seriously--,” he fucks into you particularly hard, and a moan is ripped from your throat. “—If I could make you into my personal little succubus, I—ah—would.”

The idea has the already tightly wound coil in your gut winding tighter, and you find Asmo’s eyes. Your gaze is filled with lust—a mindless desire for him to make you cum—and his dick throbs.

“Fuck, you feel too good, Y/N,” he hunches over, sweat beading on his brow as his messy hair falls into his face. “You really might make me cum too soon.”

“I—mmm—just t-touch my clit. Please,” you tell him, the bundle of nerves pulsing with a need to be touched. “I’ll cum w-with you.”

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his fingers moving to press between your folds. He rubs at your clit faithfully—a side to side motion that quite literally has your legs shaking—and you quickly feel yourself coming undone.

“Oh fuck, Asmo,” you cry, your skull pressing into the mattress as your orgasm builds within you. All the while, the Avatar of Lust picks up his pace—little moans of pleasure rolling off his tongue as he fucks you.

As much as he loves to tease, he’s enthralled that he’s finally getting to take you like this. To feel your pussy clench around his dick—to see your tits bounce—to watch you struggle to find words to say. Your body is right on the brink of release, and it’s all thanks to him.

It honestly feels like a dream.

“I—I—”

Your brain feels like jello, your eyes struggling to stay open. The muscles in your lower abdomen begin to tense, and Asmodeus knows what’s coming.

“I’m right behind you, princess,” he says, biting his lip, and you can’t wait a second longer. With a high-pitched cry, you come undone.

Your orgasm washes over you like a tidal wave—your pussy contracting around Asmo’s dick as you ride out your release. The sensation causes the Avatar of Lust’s pace to falter, a quiet curse leaving him as he loses himself. He fucks into you one last time—full seating himself within your heat—before he cums as well.

The next few moments are a blur—the two of you lost in your combined bliss as exhaustion replaces previous feelings of need. However, the first to speak up is you.

“Let me touch you~,” you whine, puppy eyes trained on Asmodeus as he focuses his gaze on you.

“Ara~ Still needy, I see,” he giggles, pulling his length from inside of you. You feel his seed slip from your pussy, and your face gets warm once more. Luckily, Asmo doesn’t bother teasing you. Instead, he moves to grab the key to the cuffs. Within seconds, you’re free from your restraints, and immediately you’re reaching up to hug him.

Asmo melts into the embrace, pressing a few gentle kisses to your cheek.

“Was I as good as you dreamed~?”

You laugh, rolling your eyes a little.

“I enjoyed it a lot,” you respond honestly, and Asmo presses onto his forearms, staring at you sweetly. You can’t help smiling at him, your hands raising to cup his cheeks.

“You’re cute.” You drag him into a kiss, and he grins.

“Oh? Is it my turn for praise now?”

“How about--,” you push him from atop you, and Asmo blinks in surprise—watching as you scoot to the edge of the bed and stand. Immediately, more of his cum slips from inside of you and begins dripping down your thighs, and you have to fight off another blush. Asmo snickers.

“How about—,” you try again, extending a hand to him. He takes it, allowing you to pull him to his feet. “—we take a shower, and I can tell you all about how pretty you are as we wash each other?”

“Oh, yes, you’re speaking my language!”

Not waiting for your lead, Asmo tugs you along to your bathroom. However, just before you step inside the tiled room, the demon pauses. He grins, tugging you in front of him, and facing you towards the wall. You wonder exactly what he’s doing, when he gently grabs your jaw and directs your attention to the floor length mirror you’re now stood in front of.

From head to toe, you’re littered in kisses—bright red lipstick painting your skin.

“You know,” Asmo speaks, his tone playful as he rests his head on your shoulder. “I know some witches who can probably whip up a potion that will leave you with cute little breeding marks.”

“No--,” you say, embarrassed, and head into the bathroom. Asmo pouts after you.

“Oh c’mon~ What if they only appear when you’re horny, that would be fine, right?”

“…maybe.”

Asmo giggles.

“Just wait. I’m very good as persuasion~”

And somehow…you don’t doubt that at all.

[theloneliestshipper]

I don't always do collaborations but when I do it's an utterly self-indulgent crossover of two Star Wars properties that have absolutely no reason to overlap and a potential audience of about five people. Also I do it with @nyelung.

AO3 Link

And never kick the ball! Rated T

“... Hutts don’t have feet!” The final words of Baroness Deathmark echo through the arena. Having heard the introduction a few dozen times or more in the last year alone, Boba could say it with her if he were in the mood. He’s not.

They’ve changed the arena up for the season. There’s only so many ways that the Nar Shaddaa Huttball arena can be changed but apparently they went all out this time and rearranged a significant portion of the walkways and traps. He can make out something that looks suspiciously like a series of trapdoors surrounding the mag-ball’s centre spot, undoubtedly hiding some nasty surprises. Well, since Fennec managed to draw Djarin in as the team captain he’s not too worried that one of their team will find out what’s beneath those trapdoors the hard way.

Two minutes into the game Boba is scowling inside his helmet - not an unusual occurrence if the Quesh Rotworms were to be asked. He came aboard as a coach last year, when there were children’s teams on Tatooine who could play better so they had seen it a lot.

“It’s nice that for once it’s not our players getting maimed,” Fennec comments. “It was getting hard to find new ones.

Huttball is one of the most brutal semi-legal sports in the galaxy and even though all players are fully armoured - part of the reason why the sport is so popular in the Mandalorian sector - and killing during the game has been forbidden since the Cold War, injuries or even crippledom aren’t uncommon because the players are also armed to the teeth. That’s what the Frogdog wearing the number seven just found out the hard way when Djarin and Aelto perfectly executed a manoeuvre to take the ball from him.

Baroness Deathmark on the other hand should avoid dark alleys tonight since the ban on killing did not apply to the way she verbally tore Frogdog Seven apart with her remarks. The handsigns he throws in the direction of the commentator box are basically a promise to hunt her down and kill her slowly and painfully. At least that’s what they mean in Mandalorian space and that’s what has Boba scowling. Why promise the commentator utterly brutal torture when it was Djarin and Aelto who maimed him?

It’s not his problem, Boba reminds himself and concentrates on giving Djarin reports on the Frogdog team’s movements. If Baroness Deathmark earns another deathmark to her name, it’s nothing he has to worry about.

In the end, Boba doesn’t have to feel too bad about the Rotworm’s performance even though they took quite the beating and lost by two points against the Frogdogs. Baroness Deathmark’s final comment is just as cutting as the spikes Tika fell on in the second half. They’re still stitching all the muscles and tendons back together in the med-area but Tika will probably never play again.

Still, just one player permanently out of commission and eight points scored versus ten lost is much better than the Rotworms have managed in decades. Overall Boba is quite content. “Do you think they serve Spotchka here?”

Fennec raises one brow. “Do you mean: Do they serve affordable Spotchka here that’s not actually engine grease? No idea, let’s find out.”

___

The commentator booth is quiet now. Leia takes a second to let her head fall back and to roll the stiffness out of her neck. When she turns her chair around, the event producer Lando Calrissian is standing in the doorway, his headset still on. “Nice work today,” he says, covering the mic with his hand. “You really live up to your name.”

“Let them try it,” Leia scoffs as she picks up her satchel and jacket. “If I had a credit for every huttballer who threatened to kill me I could retire yesterday. And anyway, I didn’t say anything that wasn’t blatantly obvious to every being in the stands.”

“Still, I’d watch your back while you’re on Nar Shaddaa. And listen, my buddy Han is in town this weekend. Why don’t you let me set you up?”

“I’m busy next weekend.”

“Sure you are. Where are you going now? Home to your tooka and the latest episode of Sith Mansions?”

“For your information I’m going to a cantina. To meet someone.”

The fact that she doesn’t yet know who she’s going to meet doesn’t seem important. She might be a farm girl from Anchorhead, but she’s never had any trouble getting someone to pay for her drinks. Maybe she’ll get really lucky and it’ll even be someone who isn’t a spicer, slicer, smuggler or assassin. That would be a nice change of pace.

The Slippery Slope cantina is crowded with fans. Some of the Frogdog and Rotworm players are there for their contract-mandated mingling. As usual the Mandalorian players keep their distinctive helmets on for the personal holos their fans will want and to protect their privacy.

She passes by a knot of fans in Frogdog colors, several different languages conversing in varying tones of outrage. She hears “the Baroness” and smiles to herself as she finds a seat at the bar. She doesn’t need a helmet to keep people from recognizing her face. It’s her voice they know...and sometimes despise.

There’s a man two seats down wearing Mandalorian armor, but it’s not painted with team colors. He’s a fan, maybe. His helmet is resting out of sight beneath the bar while he nurses a glass of Spotchka. Spotchka sounds pretty good, actually.

He glances in her direction, but there’s no shift in body language, no smile. Shame. He’s a good-looking man and probably has a very nice smile. Leia signals the bartender and nods in his direction. “I’ll have whatever he’s having.”

That catches his attention, if briefly. He lifts his glass in a silent salute, one eyebrow slightly raised. Still no offer. Maybe he’s partnered. She lets her eyes drift down over his armor, applying what she’s learned from interviews with the Mandalorian huttball players. It looks like beskar to her.

The bartender delivers her Spotchka and her attention strays from the Mandalorian to any other likely candidates at the bar. Everyone is talking about the match.

“She’s dead,” a heated voice rises behind her, but not addressed to her. “Who does she think she is? That play was bullshit. You know it, I know it. There was nothing he could have done.”

Leia doesn’t have to turn around to know that the person speaking is wearing Frogdog yellow. They can whine about it all they want, but their player had at least two opportunities to pass before the Rotworms took him out.

Some players want all the glory. That’s not her fault.

“She had no right to tear into him like that. No wonder everyone hates her.”

“It’s her fucking job.” The unexpected defense comes from the Mandalorian sitting two seats down. He’s turned his chair to face the yellow-clad group, and there’s an unmistakable challenge in his low tone. “If your player did his, you wouldn’t have lost him two minutes in.”

The man who was speaking turned a startling shade of purple. Almost Rotworm purple. “Who asked you?”

“It’s a public place. If you want to have a private conversation I suggest you go home.” It’s not a suggestion. The Mandalorian makes that clear by standing up.

“You can go to hell! You and that fucking bitch-”

“Did someone say my name?” Suddenly there’s a woman standing between them, and Leia recognizes her instantly. Fennec Shand. Her iconic steely gaze is now fixed on the outraged fan. “You want to go home.”

In spite of the clamor around them there’s a silence and stillness that makes the threat implicit. The fan bares his teeth in a snarl before turning to go. Some of his friends leave with him and the rest drift away.

Fennec’s head tips toward the bartender. “Her drink is on me.” She winks at Leia before walking away. Maybe she’s more recognizable than she thought.

“Well. That was exciting,” she says, more to herself, but the Mandalorian nods as he reclaims his seat.

“You know Fennec?”

“Just by reputation.” She takes a quick sip of her paid-for drink. “That’s definitely the first time a huttball coach has bought me a drink.”

“Your lucky night.” The corner of his mouth curves up just enough to make Leia feel validated. A very nice smile indeed.

“And she’s a legend, obviously. It’s a shame she’s stuck holding up the Rotworms by herself.”

His smile hardens, just a little. “Is it?”

“There’s gotta be a dozen better teams who would be delighted to have her. And the Rotworms might be better than they were a year ago, but their offense is still half-awake at best and I heard her defense coach only got the job because his daddy rules Mandalore.”

“You believe everything you hear?”

“No, but I kind of have to keep my ear to the ground. Like you said, it’s my fucking job.”

“You’re Baroness Deathmark.” He says it with disbelief. “That’s why-” He directs a look of annoyance at the place where Fennec Shand vanished into the crowd.

“My friends call me ‘Leia.’” She leans forward, resting her chin on her hand. “I don’t think I got your name.”

For a moment the Mandalorian hesitates. Then there’s a shift in his posture, a slight relaxing of his shoulders and Leia’s willing to bet that that twitch in his face could become an actual playful smile. “Why don’t you tell me? Since it’s your job to know everything.”

It’s a challenge that makes her sit up. He’s someone connected, then. A promoter or a staff member. That explains how he knows Fennec. “Okay,” she says, intrigued. This could be fun. “Where did you grow up?”

“Kamino. What about you?”

She’s never heard of it. No help there. “Tatooine. My local team was the Anchorhead Womp Rats.”

“Did you play?”

“I’m supposed to be the one asking the questions,” she reminds him. “Did you play?”

“Yes. For the Skullhunters of Mandalore.”

“Fenn Shysa’s team?”

His head tilts to one side. “How do you know Fenn?”

“Everyone knows Fenn. Are you single?”

“You think that will help you figure it out?”

She raises her eyebrows. “Maybe I just want to know.”

“Yes. I’m single. You?”

“Yes.” She pauses to take a sip of Spotchka. “I wanted to play, but Uncle Owen wouldn’t let me. Too violent. I tried telling him that it wasn’t like the old days where entire teams could be massacred in a match, but for some reason he didn’t find that convincing.”

He nods in agreement. “It used to be a rite of passage in Mando culture. Now it’s just sports.”

“You don’t sound too enthusiastic for someone hanging out with Fennec Shand.” For a short moment Leia entertains the question whether he resents the no-killing-part or Huttball itself.

He shrugs. “There’s better sports.”

She hates to admit it, but she’s stumped. He knows the game but doesn’t particularly seem to like it. He can handle himself in a confrontation but it’s not as if the legendary Fennec Shand needs a bodyguard. Is it possible that someone actually hired a Mandalorian to take out Baroness Deathmark? But no, his surprise about her identity had been genuine. “Okay, final question. Why are you here?”

“Don’t quote me on this… nah, forget it.”

Oh, so it’s a story. “Come on. Entertain a lady.”

It’s clear that he’s tempted, calculating loss of face versus the chance to win her over for wherever this flirtation is going. Leia’s got a few suggestions already lined up in her mind. With an inaudible sigh he comes to a decision. “Dad kept nagging me to make connections beyond bounty hunting and Huttball is a lucrative enough business. It could be worse.”

Now there’s a hint. “So your father is…?”

“Some might say he rules Mandalore.” He gives her a quick smirk before finishing off his drink.

It all adds up quickly in her head, his history as a player on Mandalore, his knowledge of the game and his connection to Fennec Shand. She sets her glass down hastily in case she needs to make a very quick exit.

“You asked for my name,” he says, drawing it out with the ruthlessness of a professional Huttball defensive coach. “It’s Boba Fett. And for the record, that’s not how I got the job.”

As he speaks he stands and removes his helmet from the shelf under the bar and Leia recognizes it immediately. For one thing, it has the Rotworm logo painted on the side. She couldn’t say a word now even if she tried, but when Boba Fett turns to face her, it’s with a smile.

“I’m sure you have more opinions on what my team did wrong. Maybe you’d like to tell them to me over dinner.”

“I do,” she manages. “Especially about your team’s inability to follow through.” Feeling a little bit daring, Leia leans in to make her intentions perfectly clear. “What about dinner at my place?”

[obiwanobi]

You really made me write a 2.6k fic after I said I wouldn't write a fic, hum. Have some 'drunk, tired and jealous but will never admit it' Senator Kenobi who just wanted to spend one quiet night bitching about other politicians with Anakin:

Growing up in the Temple made Obi-wan way more aware of how to control negative emotions, but possessiveness has never been a huge problem in his life. He's not a Jedi, so he does have material possessions -admittedly, fewer than most people- but the rule about attachments still has a particular impact on him and even if he hasn't made a deliberate choice to keep respecting it, he understands the value of it and makes a point of keeping it in the back of his head.

Until now.

Senator Odage is laughing obnoxiously and putting his grabby hand on Anakin's arm. Senator Odage, with his wide smile and passionate speeches, seems to have been galvanized by the standing ovation following his latest intervention in the Senate Chamber and is now chatting with Anakin. Anakin who had enthusiastically clapped with the rest of the Senate a few hours earlier after Odage's remarkable intervention.

"You boiling with hate is not a sight I'm used to."

Glass raised to him in greetings, Bail lifts an eyebrow at Obi-wan's flat look. That's the first time Obi-wan sees him tonight, lost in the myriad of senators, committee members, ministers, dukes and duchesses, princes and princesses, representatives and official dignitaries, exchanging platitudes, plotting their next moves, faking smiles and drinking to forget at the Senate Holiday Party.

"I am not." "You’re giving shorter and shorter answers to diplomats you wanted to talk to for weeks and you’re holding your glass so tightly that I can almost hear it shattering as we talk.” "I might be a bit tired," Obi-wan admits as he forces himself to unclench his fist and looks at something else than Odage and Anakin. "Tired, yes. I would have said trying not to snap at people of your own party and mentally throwing daggers at Odage, but tired is good enough I guess."   "I don't know what you're talking about."   "You know, Senator Odage? Young, bold, promising career in front of him, antislavery committee member, currently flirting with your Jedi and making you sulk in a corner?"   "Oh. That Odage. No, I'm quite sure I'm just tired." "And why would you be tired?"   "Why would I-"

Something that has been growling inside of him for hours finally snaps and the floodgate opens.

"Please Bail, I just came back from my seven-week-long trip with tragically boring representative Bar, where, do I need to remind you, I finally put in motion the underfunded education program for children of the Outer-Rim, was supposed to come back to Coruscant in time to deliver a speech that would have proved that I achieved some kind of progress, which is unheard of for someone working in the Senate, but had to make a 'quick' detour by Naator's moon and got stuck with the Duke there who thought Stewjon was a show on the HoloNet because Chancellor Palpatine wanted someone from the 'remote' Mid-Rim to explain that even 'backwater dust-ball like your planet has benefits of allying themself with the Republic!' and then came back to Coruscant just in time to see young, bold, promising Senator Odage ending my own speech with, I'll admit, more punch and sincere sensibility that I could ever deliver! So maybe I'm just tired Bail, and want to spend my night quietly sulking in a corner."

And with Anakin who I haven't seen in two months, he didn't add.

Still in his corner, but this time with Anakin complaining about politicians to his face, moving Jar Jar's glass with the Force every time he puts it down, giggling at Padmé's attempts not to laugh. Yes, Obi-wan would have liked that.

He is maybe, just maybe, a bit more than tired.

Obi-wan risks a glance at the Jedi still listening to Odage. His hair is longer than when he left and getting in his face, preventing Obi-wan to see his reaction to the senator’s gesture for another drink. Anakin knows better than to indulge in public, he huffs internally, raising his own glass to his lips. He learns that the hard way the first time Obi-wan took him to a boring party and they both realised that he was, despite his stature and his ‘strong Outer-Rim boy who fears nothing’ declarations, a lightweight incapable of keeping down drinks with more alcohol than sugar.

"You need to drink," Bail says, reaching for the closest bottle. "This is my fifth one." "You need to stop drinking," Bail corrects, reaching for Obi-wan's brandy. "No, I don't. It's fine Bail," He sighs as Bail sends him a worried look. "I think it's just time for me to go home." "Without me?"  

And there he is. The only Jedi present at the Holiday Party without any clear reason why. The only one Obi-wan can bear to see after such a terrible day for his ego and moral dignity. Obi-wan is almost relieved to feel him close again after so long, but the warm feeling of reunion with the incandescent supernova that is Anakin in the Force is tainted by Senator Odage's presence at his side.

"Obi-wan."

Anakin's warm hand on his elbow distracts him from the senator, but he doesn't move close enough to make the gesture looks intimate. Even if the way Anakin keeps looking at him makes Obi-wan wants to chuckle with fondness at the obviousness of the whole thing. The Force is vibrating with bright delight around them. It's a good thing no other Jedi is in the room because if Anakin's blinding smile is not enough to translate all his emotions, he's certainly not shielding anything in the Force right now. The only thing stopping him from reaching out or saying more is that he knows how Obi-wan feels about displays of affection, particularly in public.

Before Obi-wan can say anything, Odage is gesturing his glass in front of his face, dragging his attention away from Anakin's eyes.

"Good evening Senator Organa. Senator Kenobi, a pleasure to see you back! I was just talking about you with Knight Skywalker and how your speech was truly something. I hope you didn't mind that I tweaked some parts to make it mine? Being part of the antislavery's committee brought me a new perspective on social activism, and on the... How did you say, Anakin?"

Anakin replies something at the same time that he lets his hand fall from his arm. Obi-wan can only stare in disbelieve at the man calling a Jedi he barely knows in such a familiar way. Is it really their first encounter? Did Anakin meet Odage in the past fest weeks when Obi-wan wasn't here? He certainly looks like someone he would have a lot to talk too, being approximately the same age and Odage having this magnetic pull that seems to enthral most of the Senate.

What else did he miss during his time away?

"...I'm sure you can submit a demand to the Jedi Order for this, Mariv," Anakin says.

Mariv? Mariv? Who the kriff is Mariv? Surely it isn't Senator Odage, who is now leaning towards Anakin with the smile of someone who's finally hearing what he was aiming at for the past hour.

"But wouldn't you be the best for this, Anakin?"

This is it. Obi-wan probably had too much to drink, especially combined with his exhaustion and sour mood, but he knows he will not let that slide. Anakin looks clueless and Obi-wan will not let him be roped in whatever grubby schemes avid politicians have in mind with a Jedi, however smart and better than him at his job they are. Especially if they're smarter and better than him.

"Anakin," Obi-wan cuts in, and just like he hoped it will, it immediately grabs Anakin's attention. Obi-wan doesn't call him by anything else than a respectful 'Knight Skywalker' when they’re not alone. He barely does it in front of Bail and Padmé. "I'm sure you can't take decisions without consulting the Order first, that would be presumptuous, wouldn't it?"

If Obi-wan's complete focus on him hadn't distracted him from Odage, the small step he takes closer to the Jedi, making them arms brush, would have done the trick. He never gets that close in public and judging by Bail’s raised eyebrow, he’s not the only one surprised by his own boldness.

"Oh," Odage says in a suave voice, his eyes following the way Anakin unconsciously shifts his whole body towards Obi-wan, "yes, you would know about this, Senator Kenobi. I keep forgetting your past as a Jedi apprentice. That must be a real advantage to have this connection to them. Not every Senator can have the chance to call for a specific knight when they want company on their trips or when they fancy it."

Obi-wan feels Anakin's reaction in the Force before any movement and almost as a reflex to prevent him from throwing a comment they will both regret, Obi-wan grabs his shoulder. It’s enough to stop him. Obi-wan feels him slowly relaxing under his fingers. His hand, a light touch at first, slowly goes down to the small of his back, applying just the right amount of pressure there to make the man under it quiet and contented in the Force once again.

Sometimes, Anakin being so receptive to touch is a blessing.

"You're perfectly right, Senator Odage," Obi-wan declares with the most polite smile he could afford after four glasses of brandy and rethinking his entire career in the past twenty minutes. "Nothing like good-old fashion favouritism to get out of assassination attempts and surviving Outer-Rim fascist government leaders who don't appreciate feeling like you're giving them a lesson. Thanks the Force for failing my Jedi training, I don’t know how I could be a competent politician without completely relying on the Jedi Order."

The poorly covered laugh coming from Bail, who has been suspiciously quiet until now, does nothing to stop Odage from opening his mouth again. Obi-wan is drunk, hasn’t slept in the past 48 hours and has a hand on Anakin: One more inappropriate remark from Odage and fist-fighting would feel less and less outside of the realm of possibility.

“Senator Kenobi, I never knew you were so funny.” “I haven’t been funny since my last run-in with a gundark,” Obi-wan deadpans, eyes locked on Odage as he downs his last glass of brandy. “I think Senator Kenobi is tired,” Bail proclaims before Odage has the chance to reply. “He was just telling me that he was going home, and I’m sure it’s also time for Knight Skywalker to head back to the Temple.” “Sure, we’re going the same way and I came with a speeder, I can take Obi-wan home.”   “Wait Anakin, I didn’t have the time to-“, Odage tries but Bail is already putting a firm arm on his shoulder.   “You two have a good night! So, Senator, did I already introduce you to Representative Bari? I’m sure you and her seven heads will get along marvellously.”  

“That was…” Anakin says once they’re gone, leaning completely against Obi-wan’s hand on his back. There is no reason for it to still be there, but Obi-wan can’t stop his slow insistent up and down movement against Anakin’s back. “For one moment I thought you were going to use the prissy tone you take when I’ve irritated you enough to make you lose patience, and just starts listing everything he did wrong since the day he was born.”

Obi-wan narrows his eyes at him, finally retracting his hand and turning away toward the main exit of the Senate’s reception room. He doesn’t need to look back to know that Anakin is right behind him.

“I don’t have a prissy tone.” “Hum hum.”   “I had…” Obi-wan’s shoulders sag and he slows down to match Anakin’s pace. “…A long week.”   “It’s Wednesday.”   “Ah. I’m afraid that if this is the way I start the week, my chances of ending up in jail are going to blow up at the end of it.”   “Don’t worry too much about it,” Anakin dismisses, getting his robe and Obi-wan’s coat from the cloakroom, “I would bail you out. If you ask nicely.”   “Would you?” He feigns a distract tone as he turns around to slip his arms in the coat Anakin is holding for him. “I was under the impression that you would be too busy mooning over Mariv to think about it.”  

There is a strange noise behind him and before he can react, two hands are on his shoulders and forcing him to turn around and confront Anakin’s wide eyes.

“Are you… Are you jealous? Is this why you were all…”

He makes a little hand gesture to his back and tilts his hand. Obi-wan really wants to tell him that he looks like an idiot with his silly gesticulations and shaggy hair everywhere, but unfortunately, a slight blush from the party is still visible high on his cheeks and the amusement in his eyes is tangible in the Force around him, and by extension, around Obi-wan. It’s infuriating.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Anakin,” He huffs, shifting around, but Anakin must see something on his face because he’s suddenly laughing and squeezing his shoulders.   “Obi-wan Kenobi, you are jealous! You're a jealous man! I have never seen you jealous before, I didn’t even think you knew how to, this is the greatest moment of my life!” “Anakin, you’ve been knighted. And freed from slavery.” “I stand by what I said!” He declares loudly. “Were you ready to defend my honour?” “Force, would you stop saying-“ “No, no, answer the question Obi-wan.” “Can we go-“ “Did you think I was into Odage? Were you seething with rage because he touched me? Did you think I would forget all about you after two months and, what, elope with the first politician to talk to me?” “You’re a terrible person, do you know that?” “Because you know I would only elope with you.”

There is no answer to that. Anakin is the picture of sincerity, grin still full of mirth, golden curls framing his flushed cheeks and the Force humming softly around him. It feels warm and kind, loving in such a playful way that it’s begging Obi-wan to join him, give in, love him.

And Obi-wan is a tired, old, drunk fool who wants.

He’s shoving Anakin behind one of the pillars of an adjacent corridor before he realises what he’s doing, fisting Anakin’s tunic in one hand and grabbing a handful of curly hair to keep him in place with the other. Anakin’s eyes suddenly darken, his lips moving to form the beginning of a shameless taunt, surely, but Obi-wan’s demanding mouth is on him to prevent it in an instant. He tastes like expansive cocktails at boring parties, but underneath it’s him, only him and no one else.

A leg is pushing Anakin against the pillar, pressing and pressing at every little noise escaping from him. Obi-wan wants to melt into him.

“Terrible, awful boy,” He grumbles as Anakin tries to laugh before getting kissed again, instantly pliant under him.   “Well,” Anakin finally breathes. His hair is an absolute mess, half in his face and half pulled by Obi-wan’s fist, letting him admire an immaculate throat. Where he found the strength not to bite there before, Obi-wan doesn’t know. “I think I need to send a ‘thank you’ card to Odage. Or maybe grant him his-”

A sharp pull on his hair and his words turn into a faint whine.

“Will you, Anakin? Will you really?”

Anakin’s eyes shut blissfully, like he’s finally where he wants to be.

“I guess I won’t have time for that.”