#you know..her surname is not it (why didn’t she have a surname before the adoption? No explanation? Ok i’ll make it up

[ulmaria29]

today... og penelope birth day. happy birth day girl. i wub you

i miss her

this gif reminds me of her but why

🤔

But kuromi fits her aesthetic more

edit: GIF (of Pompompurin) removed because it’s too big and the texts typed were too short 😒

[natalievoncatte]

“What I did wasn’t personal,” Lena said.

Supergirl had already turned to face her. There were words formed on her lips, but Alex struck first, bringing her viper wit where it wasn’t needed or welcome.

“You had a stash of ‘Kills Kryptonians’. It’s personal,” said Alex.

Lena ignored her, looking directly at Supergirl.

“You know I’d never use it that way.”

“You kept secrets,” said Supergirl. “Secrets change things. I don’t like secrets.”

“Oh really,” Lena spat, knowing she’d regret what came next. “You don’t like secrets. Okay. What’s your real name?”

Alex flinched. Supergirl stared her down. Even in this miserable place, she was inhumanly beautiful, even if Lena was a little resentful that she’d been bitching about walking fifty yards a few moments ago, and making light of exercise, when she had the audacity to look like that.

The pause grew heavy. Something seemed to turn behind Supergirl’s eyes, like she was working something out. Her expression softened lightly.

“Why didn’t you come to me about Sam? I thought we trusted each other.”

“How can I trust you?” Lena said. “You still hold me at arm’s length, won’t let me in, only look for my help when it’s convenient for you. Maybe I should have sought your help, but it isn’t like I have you on speed dial, is it? What was I supposed to do, toss myself off a balcony and hope you were having coffee with Kara Danvers again?”

Supergirl flinched. Looking at Lena intently, she stepped closer, and Alex grew visibly nervous.

“Supergirl…” she said.

“You want to know my real name?”

“Yes,” Lena said, her voice suddenly unsteady, her palms breaking out in a sweat despite the cool, stale air. She stood her ground before a being that could level a mountain with a look and held her gaze.

“Kryptonian names are patronymics, sort of. A man’s name is his own and that of his family. So, for example, my cousin’s name is Kal-El. His father was Jor-El.”

“I knew that already,” said Lena. “Your cousin shared that an interview with Lois Lane.”

“He can share his because he has a name that was given to him by his adoptive family,” said Supergirl, her voice softening as she took another step closer. “I still use my Kryptonian first name.”

Something about that itched at Lena’s brain, but she wasn’t sure what.

“Supergirl,” Alex hissed. “You can’t… we can’t…”

Supergirl threw her a glance. “What? Trust her?” She looked at Lena. “My father was Joe-El’s brother, Zor-El. My mother’s name was Alura In-Ze.”

Lena licked her lips.

“They gave me the name Kara,” said Kara Zor-El. “On Earth, I accepted the surname of the family that took me in to raise me when my cousin gave me up to them. My full name is Kara Zor-El Danvers.”

Lena stumbled a step back, her mouth falling open comically. It felt like the ground was bursting open and swallowing her up, her stomach dropping through her knees.

No. No, no, no, no. It couldn’t be.

“Look at me, Lena.”

Lena looked away from her.”

“Look at me.”

Lena looked.

Lena saw.

Her hair was down, but Lena knew those honeyed curls. Supergirl carried herself differently- her shoulders were proud where Kara tended to hunch down, make herself small, as if to pass through the world without touching it.

Lena hadn’t really looked before. Not like this. She’d studied Kara, maybe even mooned over Kara a little until she seemed to confirm she was straight by dating that alien jackass. She knew every part of her face from her soft lips to her feel blue eyes to that funny little scar right over her eye.

How had she not seen?

“Fucking hell, Kara!” Alex snapped.

Lena’s lip trembled. She clenched her fists to keep her hands steady, knowing they were shaking.

“You tricked me,” Lena hissed, “so many times, so many ways, running off and changing into that suit when I thought you were both people. The super-speed, right?”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara, her voice soft. “Let’s just…”

“I wasn’t finished,” said Lena. “You… you told me you were having coffee with Kara, but you are Kara. Kara… you caught me when they threw me off the balcony. You risked being killed by a kryptonite explosion when Metallo went critical. You… you were… Jesus Christ, the plane, the chemicals, that was you?”

Kara’s eyes grew wider with every syllable and even in the gloom, Lena could swear she saw tears welling up within them.

“She’s risked her life for you over and over and over,” Alex said, quietly. “Her faith in you has only wavered the once. She’s always defended you and insisted on your innocence even when I was ready to throw you in a cell,” said Alex. “She defended you from the first. Shit, she defended you from Superman.”

Lena looked from one to the other, staring at them both in turn, trying to keep her wobbly legs from completely collapsing under her.

“I owe you an apology,” said Kara, raising her gaze to meet Lena’s.

“Can you two do this later?” said Alex. “We’re on a mission, here.”

Lena swallowed, hard.

“Yeah. Let’s go find Sam.”

They did find Sam, eventually, but the plan went sideways. After they were thrust back into their bodies, Supergirl -Kara- curtly told her to help Brainy while she and Alex rushed off.

So Lena helped brainy, until it was time for her to leave. Eventually, she made her way back to her penthouse, and to a glass of single malt, neat. She savored its subtleties as she stared out at the stars.

She knew this would happen sooner or later, so she wasn’t surprised when Kara touched down on the balcony, looking utterly stunning and brave and dashing in her fancy suit. She motioned to knock at the glass.

“It’s not locked.”

“Hi,” said Kara, stepping inside.

Lena looked up. “I can’t believe I didn’t see. You’re just… you, in a different outfit.”

That wasn’t exactly true, Lena knew. As she walked into Lena’s living room, Kara had neither the mousy, retiring way of Kara Danvers nor the brash swagger of Supergirl. It was like she was seeing a third person, one who’d been fully revealed for the first time.

“I’ve been going back and forth in my mind, trying to decide what parts of our friendship were real.”

“All of it,” Kara said.

“If my brother were here, he’d say that you befriended me to spy on me and use my resources and genius for your own ends.”

“That’s not true.”

Lena took a sip, and breathed in through her parted lips after swallowing to savor it.

“I know. He said the same thing about Jack, actually. Lex always tries to convince me that anyone else in my life is just after my name or money or body.”

Kara said nothing. Lena looked up.

“Just because he’s a madman who wants to gaslight me into being a supervillain doesn’t mean he’s always wrong. Does it?”

Kara swallowed, hard.

“You’ve been very insistent on being my friend,” said Lena. “You practically barged into my life and broke down all my barriers with your earnest kindness, but you were keeping yourself behind another one.”

“The first time I ever saw you, I knew in my heart that you were nothing like him,” said Kara. “I remember every detail.”

“In my office, with Kent.”

“No. In the helicopter. That was the first time I saw you.”

Lena swirled the dregs in her glass. “Oh. Right.”

“I just had to know you. You were compelling, and the way you treated me in your office that day was a huge part of that. You seemed so… I don’t even know how to describe it. I just knew I had to be close to you.”

A fit of pique moved her arm before she could contain herself, and Lena threw the glass. Kara snatched it from the air and placed it on the table without spilling a drop.

She was closer now, standing within arm’s reach.

“You can’t just say things like that to me,” Lena almost hissed, her voice loosened by the whiskey and the one before and the one before that.

“Why?” said Kara.

Lena looked up, swaying slightly.

“You told me your name.”

“I should have sooner. We could have worked together. We could have done a lot of things.”

“Fuck,” Lena snapped. “You’re doing it again! Knock it off?”

“Knock what off?”

“You goddamn well what,” said Lena. “Or maybe you really don’t.”

“I’m sorry,” said Kara. “I just don’t understand. Can you… do you want to tell me what you mean?”

“I… sit down.”

Kara swept her cape aside and sat primly in a side chair, folding her hands in her lap, worrying at the back of her thumb with her other thumb. God, she even had Kara’s mannerisms.”

“I’m gay,” said Lena.

Kara swallowed. “But… you were with Jack… and James… and you really seem to like the letter J,” Kara said, lamely.

“It’s called bisexuality, Kara. It’s a thing.”

“Oh, I um, I don’t really get ‘sexualities.’ On Krypton, we didn’t have sexual preferences. We didn’t choose our partners at all, everything was arranged.”

“That sounds awful,” said Lena.

Kara looked away. “It was our way and it worked. We had stable families, and most people had a kind of love. My parents loved each other.”

Lena sighed. “I wish I could say that. One of my parents didn’t love anyone but himself. Your sister is gay, Kara. How can you not understand it?”

“I understand that. I just find the whole thing confusing, and overwhelming. I keep looking for this spark that everyone talks about, and these ‘gut feelings’, but every time I think I’ve had it, it wasn’t right.”

“It seemed right with Mon-El. Oh. Oh Jesus. You banished your own boyfriend from Earth.”

Kara shook her head. “I know it did. I thought it did. I just never… it was the idea of him. I was checking a box. I was with him to have a boyfriend, not to have him. We’re really different people.”

“Why are we talking about this again?” said Lena.

Kara suddenly looked nervous, and thus even more like herself.

“I don’t know. It just seems to have happened. Kind of like our whole friendship. I never made a plan to be your friend. I never had an agenda. I just needed you in my life without knowing why. You just bring me joy.”

Lena wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry, she wanted to scream.

You big indestructible goof, that is the spark!

“I should have told you about me after Medusa. I should have trusted you then, but Alex talked me out of it. I didn’t push past when it counted. I know you doubt how much you mean to me now, and I’m so sorry I did that.”

“I’d never hurt you, ever,” said Lena. “Even if you weren’t Kara. But I could never hurt her. You.”

“I know.

“For what it’s worth,” said Lena. “I felt it too. That pull, that need to know you. That’s why I allowed you to get close to me instead of being bundled off by my security. I felt it from the first, that day you came to my office. I might have felt it a little during the helicopter crash, too.”

Kara nodded.

“I feel like there’s something we’re both not saying.”

Lena licked her lips.

“I have to stop the worldkillers. I have to save Sam. I have to fix it all. I just needed to talk to you first. See you first, see you again, just the two of us.”

Lena nodded, swallowing.

“I guess I should go.”

Lena wanted to tell her not to. To ask her to spend the night, change out of that ridiculous suit, to just be Kara and stay with her, but it dawned on her now that it could never be quite like that again. Kara was Supergirl and Supergirl had to be shared with the world.

“I want to help. I’ll come to the DEO.”

“Okay,” said Kara. “I’ll see you there.”

She stood up and walked to the balcony, pausing before she opened the door. She didn’t turn when she spoke, as if she was afraid to face Lena, to face the answer.

“Do you think, when this is over, we can try it again? Try to fix it?”

“Is that something you want?” Said Lena.

“That pull is still there.”

“I know,” said Lena. “I feel it too.”

Kara’s shoulders rose and fell, as if she’d just rolled a great burden from her back.

“Okay,” she said. “Okay. I’ll see you back at the DEO. Goodnight, Lena.”

“Goodnight, Kara.”

She slid the balcony door open and stepped out, pausing for just the briefest second before lifting off, sending a gentle gust of chilly night air rolling into Lena’s penthouse.

Lena let the breeze flow in for a while before she stood up and went to the door, meaning to close it. Instead, she stepped outside, leaning on the railing as the chill raised gooseflesh on her arms.

“I feel it, too.”

[the-morningstar-family]

*kind of on tiptoes *

Oh, hi Alastor. Just… uh… didn’t know if you wanted some tea but I made some and so…

*carefully places it down *

Bye!

- 🦉

Before Alastor has any hope of reacting, they're gone. A bit of guilt bubbles in the pit of his stomach, at the way he's been acting. Not very gentleman like...

No matter! He'll find ways to make it up to all of them. Even if I dies knaw on his pride a bit... Okay, a lot.

But, he's not going to put the task on hand any longer.

Alastor looks at Nova. She's only four and jet the ways she's been hurt seem endless. The way she's been denied basic comforts, how warped her view of the world is because of it.

They can't fill in her original surname because there's neither a birth certificate of any kind for her, and no one has bothered telling her her last name. It's not much of an issue. All of this is more symbolic anyway, if the king of hell and his partner claim someone as their child, then who's going to argue?

He really likes the idea of her being able to state a full name.

It would be Morningstar, not only would it place a kind of protection over her, include her in royalty but Alastor also wouldn't allow his own last name. It's his father's, and he himself had hated it, being kind of overjoyed at learning that sinners in hell mostly disregard their surname name, if not the name entirely.

Though it's a little sad that he never found out Mama's real last name.

The radio demon shakes his head. No more distractions.

Alastor: "Nova, darling. Do you know what adoption is?"

She truns her head in thought, drawing momentarily forgotten.

Nova: “When someone doesn't have parents sometimes people are nice enough to let them live with them”

Alastor, nodding: “Yes, but there's more to it. If a person adopts someone it's also a promise. A promise to love the child and be there for them, to make them part of the family.”

She nods along, understanding the concept.

Alastor: "Do you think that'd be nice?"

Nova, shrugging: "I'm not to type to get that"

Alastor, rasing a brow: "Why wouldn't you?"

Nova: "I don't know, father said that"

Alastor takes a deep breath, and kneels to her height, absentmindedly going through her hair.

Alastor: "And if it somehow happened?"

Nova: "I... Think that be nice?"

Alastor, softly smiling: "Okay"

Seems like there's nothing in the way of a little suprise.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Hello, I have a question if you don't mind.

What do you think was Claudia's legal surname? Because she called Louis "daddy" so her surname should be de Pointe du Lac, but I remember promo with their family photo with sinister vibes and it had de Lioncourts written on it, that's why I'm not 100% sure about Claudia's surname. Logically, "de Lioncourts" was probably there to show power and influence Lestat had over Claudia and Louis, not something real.

What do you think?

Mhhhhhhhhhh sooooooo…. we never get to know Claudia’s original legal name, right, though she must have had one, of course.

And I do not think they adopted her legally in New Orleans - they would have had to go and make statements to their (and especially her) status, and I would think that they mostly tried to do this via lawyers, if at all.

And I think the news of that would have reached Grace eventually (half a mile away and gossip-wise around the corner), but she was shown to be surprised and taken aback by the news (a few years later(!)).

That said, I do think Lestat had adopted her(- and before anyone gets upset about the racial implications and her calling Louis Daddy Lou hear me out please):

Roget‘s in Paris is Lestat’s law firm, and the one he keeps, and has kept, as also referenced in the show. They would not have needed to know her racial status prior to general photograph identification (after 1941 for US citizens traveling abroad, so after she and Louis left NOLA). Lestat is extremely protective of his family (and fledglings). It is canon he makes sure that those he cares for are well off, whether it be Antoine or his abusive family, or Armand or Gretchen or whoever, and money never was a big point for them, however and whatever their errrrrr family status was.

So I think Claudia bore the surname De Lioncourt for blood, practical and legal money access reasons. And she called Louis Daddy Lou for emotional and relatable as well as practical night-to-night reasons (this sounds very dry, but I think that’s just something that happened between them, because it made sense, and of course she related to him more (at least at first) and for a few years they were a happy family).

Granted, Louis could have theoretically adopted her as well, but to do so legally he would have needed to go through the authorities and as a (halfway) openly gay man and previous pimp (after the Storyville … showdown)…

So that is the reasoning that makes sense to me here in regards to her surname. Lestat wouldn’t have needed to use his name to assert dominance..? And if it was written on the photo it was probably a reference by the photographer as to who was on it.

((Keep in mind we have only heard half the story and that there’s pages missing and we know things will be revisited ^^ - as a s1 promo that was very much on point but I think there’s also a reason why we didn’t see it in the show itself.))

[sollannaart]

Józef  Poniatowski’s children and descendants

Because a couple of months ago there’s been a discussion about Napoleon marshal’s children I decided I out to share with you the info about Józef Poniatowski’s issues and descendance.

Though never married, prince Józef nevertheless had two illegitimate sons.

The oldest one was Józef Szczęsny Mauricy Chmielnicki, born on the 17th of September, 1791.

The mother of the boy was most probably Poniatowski’s mistress of that time, the actress named  Małgorzata Magdalena Wiktoria “Zelia” Sitańska (though there are as well versions it might have been another woman, for example, Zelia’s step-mother, also an actress - more on the topic I wrote here)

Zelia and here step-mother, a colored engraving 

As for the fate of the boy - in his youth (before 1807) he started a military career in the Army of... Austria. Most probably it was prince Józef himself who arranged it, because his career started in the Austrian army too. (Another question is why Poniatowski didn’t “transfer” his son into the Army of the Duchy of Warsaw after the latter had been created, but, I’m afraid, we’ll never know the answer.)

And when in 1809 Austria attacked the freshly created Duchy, Józef Chmielnicki took part in the war... on the side of the Austrians. (And his father kinda accepted this, because in his will written 3 years later, in 1812, Poniatowski mentioned not only his firstborn but as well the fact that the latter was an officer in the Austrian Army.) 

Chmielnicki fought as well in the next coalition wars, in 1812-1815 (against Napoleon as well), in 1831 he fought in defense of the Roman ecclesiastical state against local insurgents; for this he received the papal Order of St. Gregory. He also had the Austrian Military Cross. In 1856 he retired with the rank of colonel. He died unmarried in Vienna in 1860.

Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to find any image of Józef Chmielnicki, but in his military service records there is a little bit on his appearance:

Tall, of good health, very lively temperament and honest and reliable character. Polite and tidy; sometimes a bit violent and not always consistent. Zealous and active, with a special penchant for service in rifle units. He was wounded twice. He is fluent in German and Polish in speech and writing, speaks French and a little Italian. A very good staff officer, suitable for a regiment commander.

More do we know about Prince’s Józef’s other son, who was born on the 18th of December, 1809 in Warsaw and was then was given the name Józef Karol Ponitycki.

Józef Peszka, Portrait of Józef Ponitycki, 1815

As for Józef the second mother - there are no doubts in it, it was prince Poniatowski’s another mistress,  Zofia Czosnowska née Potocka (more about her - here).

Though Czosnowska was married, prince Józef acknowledged her child and mentioned him in his will.

A miniature showing Ponitycki at the age of ten

The boy’s mother, however, didn’t care for her child much. Having divorced her official husband she married again in 1815, then placed her son in the custody of his aunt, prince’s Józef sister countess Maria Teresa Tyszkiewicz.

In the 1821 countess Teresa became the boy's legal guardian (Czosnowska officially gave him up) and in 1828 adopted him, changing his surname from  Ponitycki to Poniatowski and adding Maurycy (Maurice) as his third name, thus making the boy the namesake of her long-term love Charles Maurice de Talleyrand.

And a little bit before, in 1826, Józef the younger gained French citizenship, and at the age of 18 (1827) he volunteered to join the French army.

An anonymous painter, Prince Józef's son grieving after his father, 1820

The enlistment papers say that he was a healthy, blue-eyed, tall (1.79 m) blond, oval face, strong chin and aquiline nose. After graduating from school, he took part (as chasseur sergeant) in the Greek campaign in the Peloponnese (1829), later he was transferred to Algiers (1830), but he quickly returned to France.

During the July Revolution in Paris that year Poniatowski was among those soldiers who were putting it down, but when a year later the November Insurrection broke out in Poland he, together with his friend, Count of Montebello, a son of the Marshal Lannes, went to Poland to join the uprising. After the fall of the uprising, Józef returned through Galicia to France, where joined the rifle regiment as a captain and took part in the war in Algiers with Abd del-Kader in the years 1832-1836.

Józef Ponitycki-Poniatowski charges the camp of Emir Adb-el-Kader, a drawing by a French painter Eugène Chaperon

In 1839, driven by longing for his homeland, Poniatowski came to Kraków and made efforts to obtain permission to return to Warsaw. But the Russian Governor Paskevich refused him entrance and even tried (unsuccessfully) to confiscate) properties Józef inherited from his father and aunt.

Not being allowed to return to Poland, Poniatowski returned to France and to his regiment. He died on February 15, 1855 in Tlemcen, Algeria, and was buried there.

As for Józef Karol Poniatowski’s private life - in 1836 he married an Englishwoman, Maria Anna Semple. They have two children - a son, Józef Stanisław, born in 1837, and a daughter, Maria Teresa, a year younger.

Józef Stanisław joined the army at the age of 17 and went on the Crimean campaign. During the siege of Sevastopol, he was appointed lieutenant for his bravery. He then served in the cavalry regiment. He left the service due to ill health. In 1866 he married Léonide Marie Victoria Charner, the daughter of a French admiral, the chief commander of a sea expedition to China.

Six weeks after his marriage with Léonide Charner in 1866 he became mental ill. From 1880 until his death July 20, 1910 in Geel, Belgium, where he resided as a psychiatric patient in the wellknown Geel "Colonie des Aliénés''. (Many thanks to Werner for providing me with this information).

As for Józef Stanisław’s issue - there we have a kind of discrepancy. According the Polish sources like, for example, the Genealogy of the Descendants of the Great Sejm , he died childless but according his profile at geni.com he did have a son, named André whose descendants still live in the US. (The site doesn’t allow to see all the data but it is highly probably that the  direct male line continues till our days.)

Maria Teresa, after the death of her father, was taken care of by the Duchess d'Eckmühl, the widow of the Marshal Davout. In 1859, Maria Teresa married Louis de Guirard, Comte de Montarnal, grandson of Marshal Ney. He was an official in the Ministry of Treasury. They had seven children: three sons and four daughters. But neither of those, according both the Genealogy of the Descendants of the Great Sejm and Geni.com had issue.

What’s more, according Geni.com Józef Karol Poniatowski after the death of his first wife married again. That time he took as a wife a woman named Elżbieta Fuchs, and they have a son named Wojciech Józef. That Józef, it looks like, was married, but no information about his issue is provided.

[ungalobrando]

I haven’t had the time or energy to properly work on her in the past days, but I decided that she’s no longer Avdol’s biological daughter, but instead his very eager apprentice (she wishes).

Her mother is an Italian Opera singer, Constanza de Corelli. Constanza’s manager is a controlling, pompous ass who regularly forced her to… do things behind closed doors. In return, he would let her have a little bit of freedom. Constanza grew up controlled and abused all her life, drilled to be perfect 24/7, so she didn’t question him. But once he accidentally impregnated her and she gave birth to her daughter Agrumi, things changed for her.

He insisted that a child would take away her ability to focus on her career, and wanted to force her to give her up for adoption. Constanza loved her daughter more than anything else in the world though. Agrumi de Corelli was everything to her. For about 5 years, her manager tolerated the child because she was so small. He secretly inflicted injuries on the toddler and blamed Constanza for poor parenting. But once she was 5 years old, he made Constanza choose between sending the child away in a month, or being kicked out on the streets. So, during their next travel to Egypt, Constanza worked up the courage to escape.

Constanza met Avdol. Just a few hours with him proved to her that there were things out there, people out there, who were so much better than what she knew. Constanza wanted to start a new life. Fuck all the riches in the world, she wanted to be happy. She wanted her daughter to be happy. So, she stayed with Avdol - for two days. Her manager found her. Dragged her back home. And as a punishment for running away, he forced her to leave Agrumi behind. Screaming, kicking, wailing and biting, he dragged her away. Agrumi stayed behind, luckily, with Avdol.

She didn’t have a lot of time with him (you know why 🫠), but he was almost like a father to her. After his passing, she was gonna be put out for adoption after all - but no, Polnareff couldn’t bear to do it. Especially not when she looked so much like his sister when she was younger. Damn this kid!

In 2001, Agrumi Soju (because Polnareff couldn’t remember her surname) ends up back in Italy, with hardly any memories of her years before 5. But now as a young woman, she’s now Polnareff’s assistant. He’s like a big brother to her - or rather an annoying uncle.

Idk if she will bump into her mom again but man they both sure as hell deserve it

Does anyone here remember Calliope...? That one self insert? Yeah. Please forget everything you ever knew about her because she's getting remade to represent me more. You know, so she's an actual self insert :3

It kinda frustrates me that Kjelle isn't more of an "actual" self insert, but I'm too attached to her to scrap her at this point... I might work on her a bit too but generally speaking I love her too much to let go of her.

[munsonslove]

Hi! I love you writing and I was wondering if you could write a fic we’re Eddie and the reader kinda have like a frenemies vibe going on and then one day they sleep together but Eddie has no idea the reader is a virgin because of people saying stories about her and then they sleep together and he finds out after they did it??

Can I Kiss You?

(18+ only)

a/n: thanks so much for the request, & thank you everyone for 1k followers!!! i’m so happy people are liking my little stories <3 a few notes: reader is dustin’s older sister in this fic, but i make it a point to say that she was adopted, so you can def read this as not white reader still. i also briefly mention the reader’s birth parents passing away when she was very young, so tw for family death. and there’s a part where it’s said that the reader’s last name isn’t henderson (because she kept her original surname after being adopted) so if anyone’s reading this and your irl last name is henderson… just like pretend it’s not for a sec? oh also i hid a taylor swift lyric in here. first person to find it wins! anyways i hope y’all like it!!

summary: Your little brother's annoying DM is always hanging around and trying to bother you. Embarrassingly, you developed a crush on him, you were just too proud to do anything about it.

wordcount: 7.3k

tags/warnings: fem!virgin!reader (18+ and a high school graduate), also adopted!henderson!reader, slight mention of family death, fluff, smut, friends/frenemies to lovers, praise kink, fingering (f receiving), descriptions of masturbation (both f and m receiving), use of pet names (baby, princess), unprotected p in v penetration (she’s on the pill, use condoms irl of course), no use of y/n

“He’s not here,” you deadpan with a roll of your eyes as you open the front door. You weren’t expecting any visitors, so when you heard knocking you were quick to find a makeshift weapon before seeing who it was. Your paranoia diminished when you saw it was merely your little brother's DM.

“I’d be tempted to say ‘how do you know I’m not here to see you?’, but that lamp in your hands has me second guessing myself,” Eddie replies with a laugh, pushing past you to enter your home without permission. “You gonna attack me, princess? Didn’t know you found me that annoying.”

“I’m a young woman home alone, and a lot of really strange things happen in this town,” you explain, setting the lamp back down on the end table. “Sue me for being defensive.”

He shakes off his backpack and tosses on the floor. “Better safe than sorry I guess,” he agrees, though you can hear his amused smirk in his tone. “Why you home alone? Your mom got a hot date or something?”

“Book club,” you correct him while crossing your arms, “And Dustin’s sleeping over at the Wheeler’s.”

Eddie hums in response, licking his lips as he looks you up and down. “Cute pajamas,” he says, winking at you.

At his comment, you realize with a start that your robe had fallen open, and crossing your arms only accentuated the suggestive low cut of your silk nightie. Quickly scrambling to cover yourself and retie the knot, you frustratedly grumble, “What are you even doing here? Dustin didn’t say anything about you coming over.”

He flops down on the couch, kicking his feet up on the coffee table and settling into the well-worn cushions, making himself at home. “He talked me into letting him DM for a campaign, so I thought I’d stop by with my copy of the Dungeon Master’s Guide. He was bitching about only having the Player’s Handbook and Monster Manual, so…” he trails off with a shrug as he leans forward to snatch the remote to the TV from next to his boot.

“Get your dirty shoes off of my mother’s clean furniture,” you scold before physically grabbing his ankles and forcing his feet to the floor. “Can you at least pretend to have manners?”

“I could try, but then you wouldn’t have a crush on me anymore,” he laughs, then hooks one of his fingers into the belt of your robe, pulling you down to be seated next to him. He rests his arm on the back of the couch behind your shoulders, not reacting when you retort with a curt ‘In your dreams.’

You know that logistically you could make him leave- this was your home, after all- but the possibility of him actually going without protest was very low. It seemed like Eddie’s favorite thing in the world was annoying you, and sometimes you find yourself missing the days back when he barely acknowledged your existence. He was originally two years ahead of you in school, but due to him being held back twice he ended up being a part of your graduating class. You didn’t run in the same crowd, in fact you couldn’t have been further out of each other’s social spheres. You were quite popular, invited to many parties, even won prom queen your senior year. Eddie, on the other hand, only showed up at parties to sell drugs, and didn’t attend prom for any of his senior years. 

When your little brother entered high school, you worried about him being bullied. You were aware that most of the school’s population were under the impression that Dungeon and Dragons was a devil worshiping cult, and the Hellfire club along with it. Having been exposed to the game for so long thanks to Dustin’s nerdy interests, you knew better than what the propaganda surrounding D&D tried to peddle to the public, but you held concerns that your status-obsessed ‘friends’ wouldn’t be so easily convinced otherwise. Popularity was never something you sought out, it just came naturally to you, and while it was nice always having weekend plans there was no way in hell you were going to let anyone give your baby brother and his friends any shit. If sticking up for your family made the ‘cool kids’ at school not want to have you in their clique, then that was fine by you. To your surprise, everyone seemed to get the message loud and clear that Dustin and his band of misfits were off limits bullying-wise, and you were able to stay relatively well liked by your peers.

The first time you stood up for Dustin, it was a few weeks into his freshman year in the hallway before first period. One of the guys from the basketball team was giving him a hard time, and you marched right up to the meathead jock and shoved him away. You made sure to get your point across that if you ever saw him fucking with your brother again that you weren’t afraid to fight back. The opposing boy cowered away, not expecting one of the most popular girls at Hawkins to so adamantly defend who he considered a ‘nerd’. Word traveled fast, and by lunchtime the hottest gossip was how you sucker-punched Damian Smith square in the jaw outside of Mrs. Hackett’s classroom this morning. It wasn’t true by a long shot, but you found it rather amusing how much the story got twisted when there were so many witnesses. That day was also the first time you spoke to Eddie.

He had cornered you in the cafeteria, and was attempting to use his ‘bad boy, outcast’ demeanor to intimidate you into leaving Dustin alone. Some of the cheerleaders got the attention of their boyfriends, and pretty soon a group had gathered to see why someone at the bottom of the food chain was messing with you. You called them off with a wave of your hand, then took Eddie’s arm to drag him out into the hall and figure out what the hell he was talking about. He clearly had the wrong idea, because he was telling you off about ‘pretending to stand up for the nerdy freshmen’ and how he ‘knew this was part of some elaborate prank’.

He had no idea you were Dustin’s sister. It made sense, you didn’t look all that similar and you didn’t even share a last name. Your biological parents were family friends of the Hendersons, and they died when you were fairly young. You were legally adopted by your godmother, and were raised as a member of the family. Most everyone who you’ve told has tried to console you after learning the truth, and while it is sad that you didn’t get to grow up with your birth mother and father, you know you were lucky to be a Henderson (by love, not by name). Family is family, even if there’s no blood relation, and that’s exactly what you told Eddie. You let him know that he could accuse you of being one of those airheads whose main concern is how many pages of the yearbook they make it on, but that wasn’t going to stop you from beating the shit out of anyone who tried to give your brother a hard time.

With Eddie becoming a close friend of Dustin’s, even somewhat of a role model (much to your dismay), you saw him pretty often. He was always finding excuses to come over, and you suspected it had something to do with his new life mission of bothering you at every waking moment. The two of you didn’t hate each other per se, on the contrary you actually always secretly enjoyed spending time with the metalhead, despite your differences. That being said, your rapport consisted mainly of jestful bantering, constantly trying to have the one-up in the exchange. You both finished high school together, he actually gave you a ride to graduation (not without a snide comment on the length of your dress, prompting a middle finger from you). Now you were taking a gap year before college and he was staying in Hawkins to focus on his music, the plan being to move to Indianapolis when the final member of Corroded Coffin graduated. With the freedom awarded by not attending Hawkins anymore- from both the stressful preparation for another four years of school and the pressure to stick to the status quo- you found yourself spending a lot of downtime with Eddie. You’re not quite sure either of you would readily call the other a friend, but maybe relationship labels were overrated. All you knew was that if Dustin was hitching a ride home, you could count on Eddie’s van being parked in the driveway for at least a couple hours while he berated you inside.

Lately though, the playful bickering between you two morphed into what almost felt like flirting. Eddie seemed to be laying it on thicker and thicker each time he came to see you, as if he was testing the waters for how much he could get away with without you getting upset. What he didn’t know, however, was that you’ve been harboring a secret crush on him for a while now. After actually getting to know him through the excuse of you both caring about Dustin, you came to the realization that he’s not all bad like his reputation.

Eddie switches on the TV, turning it to your favorite channel without asking and setting the remote back down on the table. It’s the little gestures like these that have you falling harder for him everyday. You lose your train of thought getting lost in fantasies of doing exactly this with him, only while being able to call him your boyfriend. You’re ripped back to reality when his arm shifts from the back of the couch to actually over your shoulders. His face doesn’t show any sign that he thinks of this as overly intimate, so you try to not let any reaction show.

Some hours pass this way, and you wonder how long Eddie plans to stay for. You silently pray that your neighbors won’t say anything to your mom about his van parked in the driveway, but even if they do, the tingling you felt in your chest was well worth it- and besides, no matter what she said, you were an adult. Just as you're thinking this, Eddie stands to pick his bag up off of the floor, slipping the books he brought out onto the coffee table, before zipping it back up and holding it awkwardly in his hands.

“I guess I should probably get going,” he says with a shrug, “It’s getting late, and your mom will be home soon.”

“She said they were going to drink wine,” you respond. “You know Claudia, she wouldn’t drive after having even a sip. She’s going to sleep on her friend’s couch.”

“Oh,” he says, his eyes lighting up a little before he purses his lips and looks out the window. “Well, it’s pretty dark out now. I don’t wanna keep you up…”

There’s a brief pocket of silence, neither of you wanting to be the one to suggest what you’re thinking for fear of the other not returning the same feeling. You don’t want your disappointment at the idea of him not staying to be too evident, but you’re not sure how convincing you’re being. Your gaze drops down to his pretty lips, distracted by how he’s biting them, and wishing you could bite them instead. Faintly, so faintly you’re almost unsure if you even really heard it, he speaks your name, bringing your attention back to his eyes. You watch as he gathers the courage for his next words. 

“Can I kiss you?”

It’s like time stops. You resist the urge to squeal like a little girl with a crush, but that is exactly how you feel. Slowly, you nod your head before moving your lips to say, ‘Yes,’ though no sound escapes you. He drops the bag, and kicks it out of the way when it lands at his feet before taking long strides toward you. The both of you lean forward, and he tilts his head slightly to make room for your noses. His breath fans your lips as he hesitates to close the distance. Impatient after months of pining, you grab him by the zipper of his jacket and finally do what you’ve been dreaming about for so long. 

His lips are as soft as they look, and you conclude that your theory about his chapstick addiction is correct. With as much as he smokes (medicinal or otherwise), he must moisturize them pretty often. He actually tastes very faintly of tobacco, and you remember how he said he was trying to quit and only smoked cigarettes when he was jittery. You wonder if that meant that you make him as nervous as he makes you. The dirty taste was thankfully mostly covered up by a strong minty flavor, and that only makes you wonder even more, this time about if he also obsesses over little detail when he knows he’s going to see you. Whenever Dustin would inform you Eddie was on his way over, you would find yourself primping in front of the mirror, making sure your hair fell in place just the right way and your skin was clear of any blemishes. You even did this before you fully understood your feelings for the man were romantic. Picturing him having the afterthought to pop a mint before driving over to see you had you smiling against his lips.

“What?” he laughs, pulling away from you slightly and raising an eyebrow with both curiosity and amusement.

“Nothing,’ you reply, giggling softly. “Just thinking.”

“Oh? What about?” he asks, leaning in once again to peck you chastely before simply resting his forehead against your and gazing into your eyes. He walks you backwards, back to the couch and sits, pulling you down next to him.

You shake your head, still smiling. Your mind was racing a mile a minute and it was too much to explain, especially when the only thing you wanted was for him to kiss you silly. “Not now. Just come here,” you whisper as you thread your fingers through his hair and push yourself flush against him, ending up fully sat in his lap with his hands gripping your thighs.

You two last like this for a while, (mostly) innocently kissing, just enjoying the feeling of finally giving into temptation. Pretty soon, Eddie’s touch begins to roam, and your hips begin to rock. It was very quickly crossing the line from PG-13 to R. When you feel his cock harden beneath you, you make up your mind about what you want to happen.

“Eddie,” you moan while his tongue circles a bite mark he left on your neck, soothing the sting. He dismisses the sound, lost in his own world as his hands find purchase on your butt, assisting your movements against him. “Eddie,” you try again, shaking his shoulders slightly.

He immediately slides his hands up to a more modest area on your waist, and he lifts his head away from your neck to look at you. His pupils are blown wide, and his hair is wild. “Yeah, baby?” he says, sounding out of breath.

“Do you want to go to my room?” you ask. You can tell by the way he glances back down at your lips, then to your thighs, and finally back up to your eyes, that he knows exactly what you are implying.

“A- are you sure?” he forces out, barely believing what he’s hearing.

“I’m sure,” you confirm. “I’m ready.”

You’re both hurrying down the hallway, nearly tripping over each other’s feet in your haste. The walk to your bedroom is short, but after putting off the inevitable for so long, you can barely wait and have to resist jumping his bones before reaching your destination. Throwing open the door, he ushers you inside and shuts it behind him.

Eddie’s heavy leather jacket thuds as it hits the floor, his shirt being discarded soon after. Your mouth waters at the sight of his tattoos, but you barely have time to admire his partial nudity. He’s on top of you in a flash, pressing you into the wall and kissing you passionately. His curious hands rake over your body, and their wandering loosen the knot on your robe’s belt, causing the thick fabric to open slightly and expose your collarbone. Like a man starved, Eddie’s lips never lose contact with you as he rips the tie from your body, almost making you fall with the force behind it. He steadies you with his hands back on your waist, this time underneath the robe, and you can feel his touch so much better with only the thin silk of your nightgown between you. Shrugging the robe off, he helps you pull it down your arms before tossing it onto your carpet, and the cold air of your bedroom is fought off by his body warmth invading every inch of you.

“Do you want this as much as I do?” he whispers gravelly after parting his lips from yours.

He doesn’t need to clarify what exactly he wants, because you want it all with him. “I do,” you confirm.

He leads you over to your bed, a queen-sized four-poster, still unmade from this morning. You climb on top and turn to face him while sitting on your knees. He looms over you, standing at the foot of the bed with you kneeling on the mattress in front of him. His pretty eyes darken as he looks down and takes in your form.

“God, I like you like this,” he laughs from above you, “Is this what I gotta do for you to shut your mouth?”

“You like my mouth” you shoot back, sitting up to reach him and tangling your hands in his curls. You make a fist, thus pulling his hair slightly.

He grunts as you tug on his locks, but doesn’t let the innuendo in your last comment go. “You do have a real nice mouth,” he says as he swipes his thumb against your bottom lip. Before he can retract his hand, you open your mouth and suck the digit into it, swirling your tongue around the tip while looking up at him from behind your eyelashes.

“Fuck, baby,” he brokenly breathes out. 

The only thing you see in his eyes is pure unadulterated lust, and you feel your belly grow warmer at the thought of what he was going to do about it. He withdraws his hand only to place it on your neck, his palm on the front of your windpipe. He’s not applying any pressure, so you can’t call it choking, but just the implication of such a touch has arousal pooling in your underwear. His thumb is warm and wet on your throat, and when he trails his hand from your neck to the back of your head, the breeze of air on the leftover saliva makes your skin feel cool. Eddie drops his head and his lips meet yours once again, but only just barely making contact. You try to deepen the kiss, but he’s returned the favor of holding onto a tuft of your hair, making it impossible to press against him more firmly without your hair being pulled. He laughs at your cries of protest, but gives in, sucking on your bottom lip and nipping at it before licking his tongue past the threshold of your mouth.

Kissing like this isn’t the most comfortable, what with the springs of your mattress digging into your knees and your neck craning up to be able to reach Eddie, but you could stay in this position for hours if it meant he was going to keep touching you the way he was. The hand not tangled and tugging at your hair was sliding up your side, dragging the silk of your nightie up. He bunched the fabric up in a fist, which caused it to be lifted enough that your cotton panties were on display. You briefly worry about whether he was going to think the underwear you had on was sexy or not, considering it wasn’t silky or lacy like your nightgown was. It was just a simple and comfortable pair of navy blue panties with a white elastic waistband. 

While you were busy overthinking, Eddie bent at his knees and kissed down your jaw, releasing your hair to raise the fabric on the other side of your nightie up to the same level, then backed away to pull it the rest of the way up over your head and off your body. You felt a little self conscious, bare chested in nothing but a pair of underwear that wasn’t even sexy. Your arms went to fold in front of you, but Eddie dropped the silk and  grabbed your wrists, stopping you.

“Don’t cover yourself,” he whispers, his eyes glued to your body, “You’re so beautiful.”

Blood rushes to your head as you bite back a smile at his compliment. Any anxiety you previously felt about him judging you vanishes, and in its place comes even more need. Eddie tells you to lay down as he softly nudges your shoulder, and you do as he says with no contest. He hooks his fingers underneath the elastic of your panties before waiting for one last head nod from you. When you give the okay and lift your hips, he slowly pulls the fabric off of you, sucking in a breath when your bare pussy finally crosses his line of sight.

He crawls onto the bed and kisses up your torso, starting at your hip bone and making his way all the way up to your clavicle. The hard tent in his jeans rubs against the delicate skin of your inner thigh as he spends extra time marking up your neck, and you get impossibly wetter at the proof of the effect you have on him. When he pulls away, the mattress dips by both sides of your face due to him propping himself up by his arms. His legs bend as he sits up, successfully caging you in, and he takes a moment to just look at you.

“I’m gonna get you ready for me, okay baby?” he says quietly, one of his hands leaving their spot next to your head as he traces his fingertips lightly down the dip in between your breasts, over your belly button, and caresses your dripping slit.

“Yeah, okay,” you mutter out your consent. With your brain as cloudy as it was, you weren’t entirely sure what he was proposing, but you were at a point by now where you would agree to anything.

His middle digit slips easily past the soaked folds around your weeping hole, and he circles the entrance teasingly, collecting your juices before finally breaching, and just his fingertip enters into you. An embarrassing high pitched squeak escapes from your throat, and you raise yourself up onto your elbows to get a better look at what he’s doing to you.

“You wanna watch as I warm you up with my fingers, princess?” he croons at you sweetly. “It’s pretty, ain’t it?”

You take a deep gasp of air as his finger disappears further into you, his hands are bigger and tougher than your own, and the difference is very noticeable. He bends and straightens his wrist over and over, pumping in and out of you with ease, and the foreign feeling is strange yet pleasurable. Another finger slides inside, and he works them into you, opening you up. He’s determined to make the next step after this as satisfying for you as possible.

“You’re so wet and tight, baby. You’re gonna feel so good on my cock,” he practically mewls. There’s a wild look in his eyes, and it only steers you closer to your climax. “You want that, baby? You wanna make me feel good? Make me crave you all the time, even more than I already do?”

His words are slurring together as he rambles on about how perfect he knows your pussy is going to feel around him. For the life of you, you can’t form any response that isn’t loud moaning, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind one bit. You feel the build up inside of you start, and your entire body tenses involuntarily as you prepare for what you know will be a mind-blowing orgasm.

“Are you gonna cum? My princess is gonna cum?” he asks, and you nod your head to the best of your ability given that the muscles in your neck are locked up. “You’re squeezing my fingers so fucking tight, baby. Show me how pretty you are when you cum. Show me, and I promise I’ll fuck you so good, so right. I’ll fuck you as many times as you let me, and I’ll do it anyway you want. Hard, slow, soft, fast… Just show me how perfect my girl is when she’s cumming around my fingers and I’ll give you what you need”

His promises push you over the edge, and you finish while crying out his name. Literally, you feel moisture leak from your eyes as your head pushes into the pillow beneath you. Eddie leans forward to kiss away the tears, all while still fingering you, helping you to ride out your orgasm for as long as possible.

“That’s it, that’s my girl,” you hear as you start to come back to the world. His hand slows down slightly, more focused on a deep and sensual rhythm, and you feel his hot breath on your temple as he continues to soothe you through your come down. “Did such a good job, sounded so pretty moaning my name, wanna make you make those sounds forever…”

He trails off as he pulls his hand away, and you both stare at his hand and watch how the light reflects off the glistening slick coating his fingers. He plunges them into his mouth, and groans around them at the taste as your jaw drops in disbelief. It was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. Still recovering from both your shock and intense orgasm, you grunt out in annoyance when Eddie rolls off of you and stands up. You’re about to complain at the loss of contact, until you realize his reason for doing so was to unbutton his jeans. You instantly rise. Your head feels dizzy from sitting up too fast, but you push through the lightheadedness in order to give your full attention to what was about to happen.

Eddie hurriedly moves to yank his tight jeans down his legs, stumbling slightly but regaining his balance enough to not fall, then succeeds pulling down the denim and kicking his legs out of it. His legs are pale- as could be suspected from wearing nothing but full length pants in Indiana- and they look rather soft. You want to reach your hand out and graze his calf to see if they’re as soft as they appear, or if looks are deceiving and his dark wisps of leg hair actually have a coarse texture. There’s no time to dwell on that instinct, as very soon after discarding his pants he follows his boxers with them, and you’re distracted by hair in another area.

Eddie’s cock springs to his stomach when he straightens up from pulling off his underwear. The sight of it both makes you want to spread your legs and squeeze your thighs together, but the choice is made for you when Eddie takes your knee with one of his hands and settles between your legs on the bed. His lips met yours as his shaft grazed your soaked lips, brushing against your clit and causing you to buck up into hip, but your hips are pinned down by his pelvis. The pressure allows some relief, but you crave more.

“Fuck me,” you beg, “Please fuck me, Eddie.” You sound pathetic even to yourself, but you’re far past the point of no return as far as shame goes.

“Do you have protection?” he asks, in between kisses. “I didn’t bring condoms. I didn’t think- I didn’t expect you to actually-”

“I’m on the pill,” you cut him off. “Just fuck me.”

“Oh my god,” he groans, “Are you sure, princess?”

“Please, Eds,” you whine, “I need you.”

“You need me, baby?” he smiles against you while you nod your head. His teeth clash with yours as you try to pull him somehow closer to you than he already is. “I know what you need. I’m gonna give it to you, don’t worry.”

He lifts himself up so that he can grasp the base of his shaft, and slides up and down your slit before he positions the head of his cock to be poking your entrance. There was a stinging sensation as he stretched you out, sinking in slowly inch by inch until you can’t take anymore and have to stop him.

“Too big?” he asks, and the tone of his voice leads you to believe he’s asking this with genuine concern rather than inflating his own ego. He really doesn’t want to hurt you.

“I just need a s- second,” you stutter out while adjusting your pelvis, trying to ease the dull ache.

“Take all the time you need,” he murmurs while pecking you on the tip of your nose. Your hand immediately flies up to guide his lips to your own, and the emotion behind the kiss distracts you from the tenseness you feel, allowing you to loosen up slightly.

“God,” he moans, “you feel even more perfect than I imagined.”

A smug smirk crosses your face and you lift an eyebrow at him. “So you’ve imagined?” you ask, tilting your head and chuckling.

“Don’t act you haven’t fucked yourself with those fingers of yours while calling out my name,” he responds with a challenging look, “I can just picture it now, your sheets all crumpled from you tossing and turning, your hands cramping up but you ignoring it cause you’re so desperate to cum. Tell me, princess, when we would hang out, how long would you wait after I left to run up here and start rubbing this pretty little clit.”

As he tortures you with these (very true) accusations, his right hand snakes its way in between your bodies to start playing with your clit. He touches the nub with the tip of his thumb, applying pressure before rolling it in gentle circles. It’s too much and not enough at the same time.

“I asked you a question, baby,” he says, his lips now moving against your jaw as you focus on relaxing and getting used to the feeling of him inside you. “You gonna be a good girl and answer me?”

His vulgar words combined with his hand’s actions send you a wave of slick arousal, and suddenly you’re ready, and you want him deeper. “Eddie,” you whine, “more.”

“Nuh-uh,” he mutters, not moving an inch and keeping that deviously slow pace with his fingers. “I wanna hear about you touching yourself, princess.”

“Ugh!” you groan, kicking your leg out like a kid throwing a tantrum. “Eddie! It’s embarrassing!”

“No it’s not,” he comforts you, his left hand stroking your cheekbone as he leans down to kiss you sweetly on the lips. “When I’m thinking of you, I like to go nice and slow at first…”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat as you realize what he’s about to do. He’s going to tell you about him getting off to dirty thoughts of you. It should disgust you to know the boy who was teasing you and picking little fights for the past almost two years has been fantasizing about you, but it only gets you going more. You force your eyes open to look at him, and he’s already staring deeply at you, his face showing no signs of mocking.

“I think about those pretty lips, so soft. I think about what they’d feel like on my skin, around my cock.” His unabashed admissions are doing nothing to help with how impatient you’re getting, but his fingers stop circling your clit when you try to slide down deeper onto his dick yourself.

“I know you want it baby, but I’m trying to talk to you,” he whispers, “You don’t wanna be rude, do you? You already wouldn’t answer my question.”

“Sorry,” you whimper weakly, hoping that if you play along he’ll hurry up.

“So sweet for me,” he says as his hand starts up again and he nips at the sensitive skin in the crook of your neck. “I knew you’d be sweet. I knew your tough girl act was a show. All the times you got mouthy and bratty with me, you just wanted to be my sweet, good girl.”

“I take off everything but my panties. And then I lay down in bed, with the fan on cause I get hot. And I start feeling up my stomach-”

He cuts you off with a chuckle. “What are you talking about, princess?”

You bang your head on the pillow and start squirming. “I’m answering your question,” you whimper, “You’re taking too long, Eddie, I need it!”

His fingers circle your clit fast and he finally, finally sinks the rest of the way in you, bottoming out and filling you up so deep and full. “Keep going,” he orders as he starts rocking in and out of you at such a cruelly slow rate. As if reading your mind, he adds on, “I’ll go faster if you keep going.”

“Fuck, Eds,” you moan out in ecstasy, your mind empty and only able to think about his cock and what he’s doing to you. But you want- no, need- him to go faster, so you summon every brain cell you have and force yourself to speak semi-coherently.

“I feel up my stomach til I get goosebumps, and I start massaging my tits and thinking about what it would feel like if it was your h-hands,” you start to stutter as his left hand mimics your descriptions, tickling your abdomen as it makes its way to your chest. “And while I did that, I would spit on my fingers a little bit then stick my hand in my underwear, and I would start rubbing my clit.”

“And you imagined it was me doing it?” he interrupts, now thrusting into you a little harder and a little deeper, his hand massaging your breast before taking a nipple in between his thumb and pointer finger and rolling it gently. 

You nod your head, too lost in the feeling to answer verbally. He really started to pick up the speed now, hitting a spot in you that you were never quite able to reach on your own, and it’s so sinfully delicious that you feel like you’re going to black out from the intensity of the pleasure. He feels so perfect moving against you, the velvety skin of his cock merging so right with your inner walls. You chastise yourself for holding out for so long, if you had known how blissful it would be, you would have confessed the day you realized your feelings. The idea that you could have been doing this for nearly a year has you cursing whatever forces that kept you apart, though a bitter voice in the back of your head reminded you it was your own stubbornness.

“Then what do you do?” he urges you on.

“Um, I would stay like that for a little while,” you continue, finding it difficult to get your thoughts out into full sentences, “and then when I was close I would… um, like stop playing with my tits. So that I could use that hand to finger myself.”

“Fuck, princess. The way you describe it… I bet you look so pretty when you’re touching yourself,” he groans, now pummeling in and out of you in a steady, fast rhythm. His eyes keep switching between watching you and being scrunched closed, like he’s trying to focus on making this last but still wants to look at your face. “I wanna see it someday. Will you show me?”

“Yeah, mhm, sure,” you agree, not even really paying attention to what he was asking you due to being too lost in what you were experiencing. Your orgasm was near, and you wouldn’t be able to hold it off for much longer. “Eddie, I’m close,” you warn, your nails digging into his back as your arms tighten around his neck.

“Me too, baby,” he says back. The rocking of his hips combined with the closeness of his face caused his lips to brush against yours in a repeated pattern, and the intimacy of that only builds your climax up faster. “Where do you want it?”

Eddie Munson, the bane of your existence for the past couple of years is asking you where you want him to cum. “Inside,” you answer without thought. “Inside me, Eds, I wanna feel you leaking out of me.”

“Oh fuck. You can’t say shit like that to me. How am I supposed to keep living my life like normal after this?” he whines, “Are you gonna cum for me, baby? I want you to go first.”

As he finishes telling you this, the wire snaps and you feel electricity shoot throughout your body. Your second orgasm is much stronger than your first, and considering how the first one had you nearly losing consciousness, that was really saying something. The shockwaves make you feel like you’re literally vibrating around him, and being able to feel his dick twitching as he released his load into you only added to that feeling. You were a moaning mess, gasping in and puffing out little breaths of air as you hopelessly cry out, ‘I’m cumming, Eddie, you’re making me cum,’ along with assorted swears over and over and over. His grip on your waist loosened as he wrapped his arms around your middle and held on tight, burying his head into your neck as he rode out his own orgasm. He muttered something into your skin that you couldn’t quite make out with it being muffled, but it sounded suspiciously close to, ‘I love you,’ and your heart leapt at that possibility.

After a few minutes, after you both gathered yourselfs, he rolled over onto his back and you cuddled up to his side. Your head rested on his bare chest and your arms hugged around his stomach, pulling him as close as you could.

“So,” he starts, his arms folded behind his head and a crooked grin adorning his face, “was I the biggest you’ve taken, or does that happen with all the guys you bring home?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you turn your head to look at him. “What do you mean?” you manage to mumble out.

“I mean, how tight you were. And how you couldn’t take all of me at first,” he says, like it was obvious.

“Well, in sex-ed they said the first time usually hurts. This wasn’t as bad as I was expecting though, just kinda stung a little bit at first,” you explain, laying your head flat against him once more and scraping at the nail on your index finger with your thumb.

Eddie stops moving and is quiet for a good thirty seconds. You start to feel a trickling of doubt, and become anxious that you somehow said the wrong thing. He reaches up to take your hand in his, effectively stopping your nervous finger picking and stealing your attention. When you glance back up at him he’s staring at you with wide eyes and an open mouth.

“Princess,” he says slowly, like somehow you were the one in this situation not making any sense, “You’re not telling me that was your first time.”

Oh. You suppose that was a pretty important tidbit of information you withheld that he probably would’ve liked to have known before you engaged in intercourse. In your defense, there was no reason for him to assume you weren’t a virgin. You only graduated high school the year prior, and during your time at Hawkins you never had a serious boyfriend. Even when you were being crowned prom queen, your date to the dance was James McKenna, and he came out as gay the week after graduation before moving to New York. Sure, you were privy to the rumors thrown around in the boy’s locker room about what you did to this guy under the bleachers and what you did to that guy at Skull Rock, but there was no more gossip surrounding you than the average cheerleader.

“I’m sorry,” you apologize, suddenly feeling guilty for not being completely transparent. “I guess I just thought you knew, or like, would be able to tell?” you say, your intonation changing to a questioning lilt by the end of your sentence.

He starts blinking his wide eyes frantically, his head shaking in disbelief as he tries to think of what to say. That self conscious dread from earlier starts to sneak it’s way back in, and you begin having second thoughts, worrying if he- like your high school friends- thought it was weird that you waited to have sex. He must have noticed the fear in your eye, because he held you tighter against him and comfortingly rubbed up and down your forearm.

“It’s nothing bad, I promise,” he says, speaking quickly. “I guess I just assumed. I mean, you were so popular. Everyone wanted you, anyone would have been lucky to have you-” you smile and blush at his words- “And those guys on the basketball team were always bragging and telling stories-”

“If a plate of spaghetti grew legs and started walking around, those guys would claim that they fucked it. Why would you listen to that noise?” you interjected, your annoyance clear.

He held his hands up in defense. “You’re right, I don’t know why I believed any of that crap. I know you have better taste than that. I mean, you like me, so that proves you have a much more sophisticated taste in men.”

“Sophisticated is one word for it, I guess,” you mumble while rolling your eyes, before sitting up to grab your nightie from the foot of the bed.

“If you weren’t active, why were you on the pill?” he questions you while rubbing your back.

“I’m a grown woman. I figured it was going to happen eventually, and I wanted to make sure I was ready when it did,” you answer distractedly as you work on turning your pajamas the right side out.

Eddie hums in understanding but is otherwise quiet as he watches you redress yourself, except for a cheeky wolf whistle when you need to bend over to pick up your panties. Once you're covered up again, you turn around to see him staring at you in amusement.

“What?” you ask with a smile, climbing back onto the bed and throwing a leg over his thighs, settling onto his lap. The tips of your noses brush against each other as you see that gleam in his eyes you recognize as him trying to stifle laughter when teasing you. “What is it?” you repeat, shoving him gently on his chest before looping your arms around his neck.

He shakes with silent laughter then leans back to quirk a brow at you. “A plate of spaghetti?” he asks. You grab a pillow to hit him in the head with, but drop it when you’re tackled and pinned down, giggling and kicking your feet as he kisses up your collar bone.

[stray-kaz]

A Better Distraction : a Jesper Fahey x reader FF : Ten

The voyage to the Wandering Isle was thankfully without incident and when they docked, a sweet smell of spring blew in off the land. Jesper looked off southward, towards Novyi Zem. He was a little unsettled being this close to home, but his mind was consumed by thoughts of you and what might be being done to you in the grand palace they could just see the spires of this far out from it.

“She’s tough, Jes” Inej said kindly, nudging his arm. “She can handle whatever they throw at her.”

“But how do you know?”

She smiled faintly and glanced up at Kaz.

“Because she handled everything Kaz threw at her.”

Kaz rolled his eyes and looked away, up the rocky trail that led away from the port. He glanced down at his bad leg and sighed.

“This is going to hurt” he muttered, disappointed but resigned all the same.

Jesper passed him his cane, and he raised his eyebrows at the change in heft.

“I made it stronger” Jesper explained.

“Why?”

He shrugged.

“In case I don’t get a chance to shoot Bryn in the face, I figured you could smash it in instead.”

Inej winced but said nothing, aware of just how strongly Jesper felt about his Kaelish girl. He had burned down half the Barrel to show it.

Kaz had started toward the trail, a determined step to his limp, when Jesper caught sight of an empty carriage and two waiting horses. He pointed with arched brows and Kaz changed direction, clambering up with a slight drag of his bad leg. Inej perched behind and Jesper took the reins, rubbing his thumbs over the smoothed leather for a second before shaking them out and urging the horses into a fast trot. A shout rang out behind them and he grinned roguishly, sending them into a fresh gallop.

“Careful, Jesper” Kaz warned. “Your princess probably prefers you alive.”

The gleam in Jesper’s brown eyes was one of vicious glee as he drove them ever closer to their destination.

“Oh, I’ll live.”

I can’t say the same for her cousin, though.

You had been woken early by servants hurrying in with orders to make you wedding presentable, armed with boxes of makeup and the most gaudy dress box you had ever seen. It was so green it hurt to look at, and you hoped desperately that the dress inside it wasn’t the same shade.

Now you stood in front of the ornate mirror, your chains anchored to the frame, decked out in swathes of white with Kaelish green trim. The dress almost glowed, it was so white. You guessed that your parents had given specific instructions for it, to make you appear angelic, saintlike even. Especially after you had told them you were no longer a virgin. They couldn’t have the nation knowing that.

Your choppy hair had been styled away from your face, leaving your eyes looking massive and red rimmed from the angry crying you had indulged in the night before. Every evening, just before you went to bed, Bryn visited to taunt you, specifically about Jesper.

“Your Zemeni isn’t coming to save you this time, is he, little princess? Doesn’t look like it.”

“Not so tough now, are you? No gunslinger to protect your delicate honour. Oh, wait. He took that, didn’t he?”

Every time he would smirk and every time you wanted to burn it off his face.

There were no sympathetic ears, just hostile ones. Either way, no one wanted to listen.

The Crows abandoned the carriage half a mile from the palace and walked the rest of the way to the outer gates, where there was already a footman posted to check royal invitations. Jesper smiled winningly, one hand outstretched with all three of their invites in it, the other hidden inside his coat and resting on one of his revolvers.

The man eyed the three of them narrowly, suspicion written in the lines of his face.

“Zemeni, Kerch and Suli. Travelling together?” he queried, eyebrows raised.

“We’re adopted siblings” Jesper said, not missing a beat. “Different surnames, same family.”

“Uh huh” the footman grunted.

He shook his head but stamped their invitations with what looked to be a bright green leprechaun. He handed them back and Jesper nodded as he passed him by, Kaz and Inej trailing in his wake.

“Remember, we want to make as little noise as possible” Kaz murmured, catching up with Jesper. “I know you probably want to shoot the palace to smithereens, but that would be a bad idea.”

Jesper nodded.

“I know” he assured him. “I know we need to be low key to get in and get her out. But I won’t be upset if the duke meets an unfortunate accident on the way.”

He glanced meaningfully at the newly weighted head of the crow cane.

“Trust me” he said. “That thing is now strong enough to cave a man’s skull with one swing.”

“Lovely” Inej muttered; he ignored her, which she expected.

“I do not want to see her in a wedding dress walking down the aisle. And if I have to watch her kiss that bastard, I will shoot everyone else and then myself.”

Kaz snorted as they passed through the palace’s main doors and made a show of following the green and gold velvet ropes set in place to direct guests to the wedding hall. As soon as they were out of sight of the nearest guard, they ducked around the corner, suddenly in sight of the throne room.

Kaz reached inside his coat pocket and pulled out a hastily drawn copy of the palace blueprints, pointed to the thick black X that marked your bedroom. He gestured down the hallway.

“Down here” he said. “If we don’t make it back, Nina will kill us all.”

Jesper grunted noncommittally.

“We’ll make it back” he said, too confident sounding. “Just get me past the lock, Kaz.”

They made it to the correct door without being spotted and Inej stood with her back to Kaz as he bent to the door lock, slender bright picks appearing between his fingers like magic. Jesper didn’t realise he was holding his breath until he heard the snap click of the lock giving way and air rushed out of his lungs.

He pushed the door open slowly, alert for any hostile presences, and stepped over the threshold.

Your head whipped towards the bedroom door at the sound of something quietly scraping in the lock. You stood up from the pile you made on the carpet, fabric pooling all around you. The scrapes stopped and you held your breath as the door slowly swung inwards.

Jesper stepped inside, dressed head to toe like a rich diplomat. You glimpsed the guns at his hips, the jaunty angle of his top hat and then his face, the breath leaving you as you tried to move toward him, only to be jerked back by the shackles at your wrists.

Jesper took you all in in seconds, his gaze darkening with rage at the sight of the chains bolting you to the ugly mirror.

“Princess, that is the ugliest dress I have ever seen” he said, and all but sprinted to you.

He wrapped his arms around your waist at the same time you threw yours around his neck, stretching up on your toes to touch as much of his body with yours as you could. He stiffened as the cold metal of the separator bar touched the back of his neck and you carefully lifted it back over his head and stepped away.

You only noticed Kaz and Inej when they came closer, Kaz gesturing to the lock at either end of the bar and the chains themselves.

“I can do that” he told you, raising an eyebrow.

You nodded and turned toward him, but Jesper shook his head and spun you back to face him.

“Let me” he said, and there was a bite to his voice you’d not heard before.

Confused, you waited and watched as he grabbed the bar in both hands, his nose scrunching, forehead creasing with effort. But still, it took only seconds before the bar broke away to nothing and then he picked up the chains; his anger fuelled his power and within moments, the chains shattered and fell to the floor like metal rain.

You and Inej watched with open mouths and even Kaz had both eyebrows arched. Sweat formed on Jesper’s forehead and he looked much more tired, but he barely shifted an inch when you flung yourself at him again, reaching up to kiss his chin and then his lips, anywhere you could get to.

“You’re here!” you exclaimed against his mouth, tightening your grip around his waist.

“Of course I am, you royal idiot” he scoffed. “I love you!”

You pulled back to stare at him and his mouth cinched shut; he looked immediately as if he wanted to take it back, but you wouldn’t let him. You smiled.

“Well, good, ‘cause I love you, too, Jesper.”

Kaz rolled his eyes at the plain shows of affection, but Inej just smiled, aware that they had limited time, but pleased in the moment nevertheless.

“We have got to get you out of this dress” Jesper muttered, eyeing the monstrosity you were wearing. “Inej?”

She nodded and rifled through the bag she had slung across her front. She tossed to you a pair of plain breeches, socks and boots, and the blouse Jesper had taken off you only days ago. Inej and Kaz turned their backs to give you a little privacy, but Jesper refused to take his eyes off you as you inched out of the dress and let it drop to the floor in a heap.

Now that he had said the words, you could feel them brush over your skin every time he looked at you, his brown eyes fierce and consuming.

Once you were dressed, Jesper took hold of your hand and led you to the door, a precious revolver in his other hand. He cocked it, ready, as he went first out into the hall. There was nobody around. You followed him through the palace, Kaz and Inej at your back.

It wasn’t until you stepped out into the springtime sunlight that you realised you were in trouble.

Bryn was waiting out in the yard, a small squadron of guards standing just behind him. Jesper tensed and let go of your hand so he could raise his second weapon, cock it and aim. He did not enjoy killing, but he didn’t hesitate, just as he hadn’t when you were under threat from an audience member after your first show at the Crow Club. He fired once, and the bullet tore into Bryn’s forehead; his eyes were full of surprise, but it soon faded to nothingness as he collapsed onto the ground.

The guards all raised their rifles to their shoulders, many of them with widened eyes, as if shocked by Jesper’s plain audacity.

“Inej” Jesper murmured, risking a brief glance at her over his shoulder. “I’m going to need a little help from the Wraith.”

She nodded and reached for her knives, blessing them with her fingertips before she chose the right one. It quickly found a home in a man’s chest and Jesper took the reprieve to turn to Kaz, his eyes flickering to you.

“Take her” he begged. “Please, boss. Take her and get out. Get to the carriage. If we don’t get there in ten minutes, get the horses moving.”

He grabbed you and kissed away your protests, then shoved you at Kaz, who shepherded you down the steps and skirting around the guards, who were too busy trying not to die to pay you much attention.

Fear filled, you craned your neck to see Jesper as he waded into the fight, guns firing, eyes bright and focused.

“I’ve never seen him like that!” you panted, somehow keeping up with Kaz’s pace; despite his bad leg, he was still swift when it mattered.

“Jesper’s in his element right now” he replied. “This is what he’s best at.”

Best at or not, you worried as you ran, the sounds of battle in your ears.

You waited inside the carriage where Kaz had shoved you, but you kept your head out, anxiously looking out for Jesper and Inej. When at last you glimpsed them, it took all your willpower not to get out and run. But as soon as they reached the carriage, Inej scaled the seats to perch behind Kaz and Jesper ducked inside with you, locking the door behind him. He thumped his fist on the ceiling and the carriage lurched into movement, swaying slightly on the uneven ground.

He was on you before you could speak, searching for injuries, but soon, his hands stopped being quick and concerned and became slow and tender instead, caressing and fondling here and there, while he whispered words of heated longing in your ear. Flames began to flick and twist along your arms, and he grinned, dipping his head to nip at your earlobe.

“Wait til we’re on the ship” he told you, pressing his lips to the sensitive skin at the juncture between your neck and shoulder. “And I’ll show you how much I’ve missed you, princess.”

You sighed and buried your head in his chest, curling your feet up under you on the carriage seat. He chuckled quietly and wrapped an arm around you, keeping you close. He peppered kisses in your hair and leaned back, stretching his legs out in front of him.

“Just you wait, love.”

[unfriendlyamazon]

just like we never said goodbye (memories | aspirations)

happy @joukaiweek!! my dearest friend @luvdevilart sent me their beautiful picture for day 1, and i knew immediately i wanted to do a friends as kids au to complement it. we’re starting this week off with something really sad people so strap in!!!!

Title: Just Like We Never Said Goodbye Rating: T Characters: Joey Wheeler, Seto Kaiba, with special appearance by the friendship gang and Zigfried von Schroeder Word Count: 5446 Warnings: Nostalgia, Depression, Drug Mentions, Implied Parent Death Summary: Joey Wheeler lives across the world from the place he grew up, from the people he knew, and from his own emotions about growing up. It takes one chance meeting with Seto Kaiba for everything to come flooding back.

...

Joey had come in for a pack of cigarettes and stopped short at the counter. Rows of magazines sat next to the register, mostly tabloids showing the faces of well known celebrities bathing on the beach or getting out of their car at the club. Tucked beside them were the more prestigious catalogs, tech and lifestyle magazines. A face stared at him from the glossy photos of the TIME magazine. A tall, lean figure, cut smart in a black turtleneck with a purple sequined coat flared at the broad shoulders. An arm jutted out in a strongman pose, showing the VR gaming technology strapped to his arm. Dark hair brushed against pale skin, framing the sharp features of his face. It was his eyes that made Joey stop. A deep blue, wide and soft against the angles of his face. Everything else had changed about him, but those remained the same.

He picked up the magazine and saw the name emblazoned in strong letters across the page. Seto Kaiba. The surname was different, but the rest was the same.

“You want your smokes?” Ron said from behind the counter. He shook a pack of Lucky Strikes Joey’s way.

“Yeah,” Joey said and reached for his wallet. He waved the magazine at him. “This too.”

He walked the two blocks back to his apartment, a trail of cigarette smoke burning behind him. The magazine was tucked into his jacket, and his heart pounded against it every step of the way. Cold had hit New York like a sledgehammer, and the inside of the apartment complex didn’t do much to keep it out. He bounded up the stairs and unlocked his door, right as his roomie was making her way out.

“I’m gonna be late tonight,” Anzu said by way of greeting. “There’s some mixer downtown. Gotta shimmy and shake for the bigwigs.”

“Finally, you’re big break,” he joked. “When’re you gonna get us an apartment with heating?”

“You cut those cigarettes out, we’d already have one.” She wrinkled her nose. “You stink.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He waved her off. “Don’t freeze out there.”

She tugged down her knitted beanie. “On it. You’re still working with me tomorrow night, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he said. “I could use the change.”

She headed out, and Joey shut the door behind him. He took off his shoes, tossed his keys into the little plate Anzu kept by the door, flipped the switch on the heater that didn’t do a damn thing, and went straight into his room. Only when the door was closed did he remove the magazine from his jacket and toss it onto his bed. He moved around it, shedding his jacket and his flannel shirt. He found everything to do but look at it. Why he was acting like he just bought his first dirty magazine, he didn’t know, but it took him twenty minutes to finally sit down in bed and open it up.

Seto Kaiba, the adopted son of Gozaburo Kaiba, had taken over his company at a tender age. Before most kids knew what they wanted to do with their lives, he’d been made CEO of a million dollar organization, and immediately gutted it. There was no kindness in his tone, just clipped responses to questions about his personal life and his relationship with his adopted father. The photos were aggressively fashion. No minimalist tech bro bullshit. Long coats draped across his shoulders, highlighting his tall shape, and boots climbed his legs. Pictures in his office highlighted his ostentatious shape amid the clean corporate whites, and the backdrop of the Japanese city in neons behind him. He’d grown from nobody to tech titan in only a few years, and had exploded onto the American scene with his recent deal with Industrial Illusions. This holiday season every gamer would be dying for his VR system, and the bevy of licensed releases that would come with it.

It was a long way from that kid in Okinawa.

Joey closed the magazine and set it face down beside him. He opened his phone and scrolled through the ancient pictures he’d managed to save on there. Serenity had found a pack of Polaroids in her last move and scanned them in. Saved to a folder on the cloud from her computer, he couldn’t bring himself to download but a few of them. Old pictures of the beach stretching out behind them, and the rich green fields they would run in. Blurry faces of his sister laughing as he grappled her, and then them respectfully bowing their heads when they visited a shrine, dressed in traditional clothes. His mom appeared in a few of them, holding Serenity close with sad eyes. He scrolled quickly past the one of his dad cooking breakfast, a small version of him lifting an arm up to help, and paused at the image of him and Tristan climbing rocks on the beach. There were a few others from the kids they played with, and he examined each and every one of their faces. No one he recognized. After a few thoughtful moments, he opened a browser and searched Seto Kaiba’s name. A wall of the same face appeared in his phone, and he saved one picture before switching to his messages. Yugi’s name was at the top, and he sent the photo with the question: Have you heard of this guy?

It’d just be morning on the other side of the world, and no way his friend was waking up that early. He clicked a few of the articles that popped up, but there wasn’t much about Seto Kaiba from before his adoption into the Kaiba family. A younger sibling was registered with the family, and that was it. No mention of Okinawa. No talk of a summer spent digging holes in the dirt and chasing fireflies across the grass. No sign of the laugh that had graced a young boy’s face, with chubby cheeks and lanky limbs he hadn’t grown into yet. No mention of hands that held his kid brother’s as they twirled in circles playing stupid games, or the laughter as their festival lights spread sparklers in the dark. No mention at all of the sudden shadow that fell over his face after a rainy night sent a car careening off the road. No talk at all about the sudden goodbye and the empty home. Just the cold, empty space of a life that he wanted to forget.

Joey couldn’t blame him. His own family had fallen apart, not suddenly, but like a house weathered down to its cracked foundation. He’d escaped his own past, in a way. Not as successfully, it seemed, but he didn’t have a Wikipedia page to update or a bio in the New York Times to keep straight. It was hard not to cling to those happy memories, and to mourn their loss all over again. All because he saw a familiar face in a magazine.

Joey closed his face and closed his eyes. The nostalgia trip had exhausted him. They weren’t the same kids on a bright beach playing tag in the sand without a single care. They never would be again.

He’d do what he always did. Keep moving, don’t stop. No time to think, no time to look back. But as his breath moved in and out of his lungs, he let himself linger on those memories, just for a little while.

...

The stiff collar of the crisp white shirt dug into Joey’s neck. He fiddled with the tie and stopped himself. No, catering wasn’t his favorite gig, but it put extra money in his pocket, and Anzu and her friends were usually a good time. Tonight’s gig was at some gallery in Manhattan, a real bourgeois affair. PR girls and finance bros were dressed in couture suits worth a thousand bucks, sliding mozzarella bites off toothpicks with their teeth as vaguely undanceable club beats played. They bounded off the white walls to create a hollow echo. Joey made his rounds, and the crew rotated in and out of the kitchen, stopping to chat briefly and stealing appetizers off discarded plates.

“You’ve been in a mood lately,” Anzu said as she emptied half-drunk glasses into the bin. “More than usual.”

Joey chewed on a stuffed bell pepper that hadn’t made it onto the plate properly. “It’s just the season.”

“Try not to look so sad,” she said, patting his face. “You get better tips when you smile.”

He stuck his tongue out at her, and she picked up another tray before sauntering out the door. Wiping his hands on his vest, Joey snagged a platter of champagne and followed after. His phone buzzed in his back pocket, and he ignored it. Yugi had answered him back sometime in the middle of the night, no new information worth sharing. To the world, Kaiba Corp’s CEO had sprung fully formed into power at a tender young age, no history, no nothing. It didn’t matter anyway. Joey’s life had split when his parents did. There was no undoing what had already been done.

He made the rounds, and the tray lightened as upper class yuppies took their fill. He might as well be a ghost to them, which suited him fine tonight. Work the job, get the money, go back to smoking weed and playing video games. What else was there to life?

He rounded the walls to a smaller corner of the gallery, two drinks still on the tray. A party guest stopped in front of him, picking up both drinks with thin manicured fingers by the stem. He turned, bright pink hair flipping over a fur lined coat, and a pitched German voice called out, “Herr Kaiba, toast with me.”

The sudden assault on all Joey’s senses froze him. The party goer had a wide, veneer smile and a made up face, brushed lightly to highlight the cheekbones and plump the lips. It took Joey a few seconds to tear his eyes from the garish individual in front of him to see his companion. His heart stopped. Like a phantom stepping out of the pages of the fashion magazine, Seto Kaiba strode forward. A long white coat flared behind him, the belt open and hanging loose to reveal the clean black silhouette beneath. The boots he wore were heeled, giving his already impressive height a few extra inches so that he loomed over the crowd. Shoulders back and hand at his waist, he had all the casual ease of a 90s super model. Seto Kaiba looked exactly like his picture in a way that felt unreal. Joey almost pinched himself to see if he was dreaming.

“Our first trip to New York together,” the German said, extending a glass to Kaiba. “Hopefully not our last.”

Joey was no longer needed for this exchange. With his plate empty, he should bow out gracefully and only show back up when he had something to offer. But the German waved a hand at him, signaling a request.

“Bring more booze around,” he said. “It’s been terribly dull so far.”

Seto’s eyes drew to Joey, and for a moment he thought he saw a flicker of something. Was it recognition? No, his face was passive and straight. He didn’t flinch, didn’t move, didn’t say a word. Joey held his tray to his chest like a shield.

“You got it,” was all he managed out before he turned and fled. He headed straight back into the kitchen and slammed the tray down, calling out to no one in particular, “I’m taking my break.”

The first cigarette didn’t slow his heartbeat, so he lit a second one. He breathed out a long stream of smoke and watched it dance up into the streetlight. The back door to the kitchen led to an alleyway and some dumpsters. He wished he’d brought something stronger tonight, but this was cool, this was chill. So the past had risen like a zombie from the grave, like the hand on the monkey’s paw curled and the dead came back alive but not quite right. He felt like Alice through the looking glass, staring at a strange reflection. He didn’t know what bothered him more: his own reaction to the whole thing, when all he had was a summer friendship a decade ago, or that Seto had looked straight through him like he didn’t even remember. But why would he? Why should he? Everything was so much better for him now. He had money, and fashion, and a German boyfriend by the looks of things. Why would he want to remember anything from that time? Joey didn’t.

He finished the second cigarette and pulled out his phone. The message had been from his sister. Another squeeze to his heart. Tonight was shit. Time to cut and run. Anzu would forgive him for ditching her.

Inside the gallery, someone was speaking to the audience. Joey ducked past the crowd to give Anzu a heads up. The lights had gone down briefly, making faces hard to see. He rounded another corner, where he smacked straight into a person. Joey staggered back, holding his face as he muttered apologies, and then a low voice said, “Jounouchi.”

Joey blinked rapidly, staring up at the tall figure of Seto Kaiba. With only the flickering screen and the low lights from the gallery pieces, he looked even more ghost like. This couldn’t be real.

“No one’s called me that in a long time,” he said. “It’s Joey now.”

“Of course.” His long fingers twisted the stem of his champagne glass. “You’re working.”

Joey tugged at the stupid vest he wore. “Actually about to ditch.”

The flickering light caught the blue of his eyes as his head tilted just slightly, like Joey was one of the art pieces on display.

“Let me give you a ride,” Seto said. “Wherever it is you’re going.”

Joey blinked again. “Uh. I’m okay–”

“It’s a good moment to sneak out.” He placed the champagne glass on a display case. “I think I’ve had enough of my companion tonight.”

“The German guy?” Joey glanced back at the crowd. “He’s not your boyfriend?”

A smirk broadened Seto’s lips, and that was a familiar face. “He wishes. I’ll get my driver. You get your coat.”

He didn’t wait for Joey to respond, only marched past him. Joey stood there a moment longer. Was this really happening? He wanted to run away and ditch it all, but his chest tightened at the thought of letting this opportunity go. If not now, when?

Joey grabbed his fleece lined coat from a locker and found Seto outside. He chatted with an older Japanese man who immediately moved to open the door to a black town car when Joey padded up. It felt extra weird being escorted into the leather lined seats. A small bar was tucked into the side, and a laptop had been left on the seat. Seto didn’t say a word as he got in, and Joey dropped into the seat beside him.

“Where are you going?” Seto asked.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Joey said. “I was trying to get away from you.”

Seto stared at him, and a smile cracked his face. Joey huffed out a laugh as he gripped his hand through his hair.

“I’m craving fries,” Seto said to his driver in Japanese. “Take us somewhere we can sit.”

Joey undid his tie as the car took off onto the busy New York street. He felt like he could breathe again. Seto removed his phone and tapped away at it, the blue screen illuminating his face.

“I couldn’t believe it was you,” Joey said. “I mean, you look crazy now.”

Seto laughed again, eyes not moving from his screen. “You don’t want to see me, and you insult my fashion sense. Meanwhile you’re dressed like a low rent maitre d.”

“I was working,” Joey said.

“Not very well,” he said. “You’ve left.”

He leaned back in the seat, fluffing up his hair. “Yeah, well. It’s just a side gig anyway. They can boot me for all I care.”

“Very American of you,” he said and finally put down his phone. “And I was worried you might be different.”

Joey looked up at him. Street lights passed overhead, briefly illuminating the interior. He wasn’t sure if this would ever feel real.

“I didn’t think you remembered me,” he said.

“You have changed,” Seto said.

“So have you.” He reached across, picking at the white thread of the jacket. “You’re Seto Kaiba now. I guess things worked out okay for you in the end.”

Seto shifted his arm away. “I guess you could say that.”

Joey swallowed and sat back again. “You still got a little brother?”

“Little sister now,” he said, a smile easing back onto his face. “Adena’s in a private school in California. It’s easier for her there.”

“Mazel tov,” Joey said. “That’s cool for her.”

He nodded solemnly. The car pulled around a corner, and when Joey looked out he saw the golden McDonalds arches.

“You wanna eat here?” he said, looking back at Seto.

The car came to a stop, and the driver’s door opened. Seto shrugged.

“I travel a lot these days,” he said. “I’d rather have something familiar.”

They shuffled up to the counter, dressed in their Saturday night best. Seto paid for them both, and they took up a booth in the back away from the evening drunks and partiers. He looked even more ridiculous in the red plastic booth, one leg sticking out and the other propped up on his knee, his coat draped behind him. Joey removed the vest and unbuttoned his shirt, relaxing into his coat. He chewed on the straw of his soda.

“So why are you in New York anyway?” he asked.

“I spoke at a conference today,” he said, examining his nails. “I’ll fly back to Tokyo tomorrow. Zigfried insisted we not waste our evening.”

“Your boyfriend,” Joey said.

He wrinkled his nose. “Absolutely not. I have taste.”

“You ordered a twenty piece chicken nuggets,” Joey said.

“I have better taste than Zigfried.”

Joey bit down on the straw. “But you are gay, right?”

Seto looked at him, splayed out like a super model, manicured nails tapping against the plastic table. “Is that a question?”

He laughed, shaking his head. “I knew it. I knew it when we were kids too.”

Seto smiled. “I don’t believe you.”

“You’re not exactly subtle.”

He picked at the collar of his white coat. “That’s true. You knew who you were at that age.”

“I knew I was a boy,” Joey said. “I don’t know if I knew who I was.”

Seto was watching him with that same discerning stare. “Tell me. Who is Joey?”

Their meals came on red trays. Seto opened a mountain of sweet and sour sauce packets while Joey bit into his burger. Two large fries sat between them, filling the tray with salt and grease. Joey chewed for a while, trying to come up with an answer.

“I work a few jobs,” he said. “Mostly doing deliveries. I like stuff like that, no one over my shoulder, lots of time to take a smoke break. Me and Anzu rent a place together, she’s a friend of a friend. You’d probably like her.”

Seto swept a fry through a glob of ketchup. “You ended up here from Okinawa.”

“Oh, yeah.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t long after you left that we did. Ended up all over the place, but somehow my dad always found work in Brooklyn. It’s basically the only place that feels like home. So when I was old enough to go out on my own, I came back here.”

“You had a sister as well.”

Joey wiped his mouth. “She’s getting her masters at UCLA. We talk every week. Tristan’s in California too. I don’t know if you remember him.”

Seto’s blank expression told him no. He picked up his own soda thoughtfully and washed down his fries.

“You don’t have anyone here,” he said.

Joey chomped down on his burger and swallowed it half chewed. “I got friends. I still got penpals from all the places we lived.”

“But not here.”

He shook his soda cup, rattling the ice still left inside. “So what? It’s what happens when people grow up. They move, they leave. I’m lucky for the people I do know.”

“It’s interesting,” he said, “that you describe this place as home, but it’s the place you have the fewest connections.”

Joey slammed the cup back down. “What does it matter to you anyway? You were the first to leave.”

Something flinched in Seto’s face. “I wouldn’t say that was my fault.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Joey ran his hands through his hair and groaned. “This is too weird. Can we both say this is weird? Why are you here right now?”

“I told you,” he said. “I had conference.”

“No,” he said, waving a finger between them. “Why did you pick me up tonight? Why do you care what I’m doing with my life? We don’t know each other. Why bother?”

“You think we don’t know each other,” Seto said. He stared Joey down, unblinking, with an intensity Joey hadn’t met in a long time. “If that’s true, then all you’re doing right now is wasting my time.”

“Fuck you,” Joey spat out, and he stood up from the booth.

He didn’t bother to wait for what pithy reply Seto had. He grabbed his coat and stormed outside. The cold was like a force slowing him down, and he fumbled into his coat as he hunted for cigarettes. The hit of nicotine spiked inside him. He was aware of the door swinging open, and he turned on his heel.

“And where the hell do you get off?” he shouted at Seto’s face. “You gotta interrogate me about my life because what? You don’t feel good enough about yours? You dragged me out here! You’ve got all the money and the power in the world, so what do you want out of me?”

Seto took a single step forward. The lights of passing cars crossed over his face, illuminating his unreadable expression. Joey shored his shoulders, like he did when he was preparing for a fight.

“When was the last time you were happy?” Seto asked.

It was a knife to Joey’s heart. His whole body slumped in one exhale. Defeated.

“I left everything behind,” Seto said in his silence. “Everything. My home, my connections, my childhood. I feel every day like I’m grasping at threads to hold what I can remember. But you want to run away from all that.”

“It wasn’t a good time,” Joey croaked out.

“But there were,” Seto said, “good times.”

He closed his eyes. The polaroids filled his head, the smiling face of his sister, the smell of grass as he and Tristan rolled across the grass, the festival sparklers reflecting in his eyes, the heat of the summer sun warming his skin. His whole life felt like an uphill climb, and he’d never turned his head to see how far he’d come.

The headlights of Seto’s car appeared behind him, casting his face in darkness. Joey stared up at him.

“So that’s what you want out of me,” Joey said. “Nostalgia.”

The light caught the edge of his smile as Seto shook his head. “That’s not all I wanted.”

The driver opened the side door. Seto’s fingers found Joey’s wrist, the pad of his fingertips pressed against the pulsing heartbeat. The touch sent electricity through his arm and down his spine. It was the first time they’d actually touched each other since they were 10 years old. This wasn’t a dream, or a fantasy, or some kind of bad trip. There was more than nostalgia happening here.

“I dunno,” Joey said. “We might be going in two different directions.”

“It’s true,” Seto said. “But I think we can meet in the middle.”

Joey snorted out a laugh and dropped his cigarette. “I changed my mind. That was the worst line.”

Seto huffed out a breath, rolling his eyes. It was so bratty, and for a moment beneath the veneer he wore, Joey saw the face of his friend. Everything was different now, but some things were always going to be the same.

He reached a hand up, taking Seto’s face, and he kissed him. Seto took a beat, and then he pressed his lips against him, moving with an explorer’s curiosity. Against the cold, his face was heated, and Joey reveled in the skin on skin contact. It wasn’t like kissing a stranger. It was new territory for sure, but there was comfort in it, along with the thrill.

Joey fell back on his heels and smiled. Seto arched forward to chase him.

“Had to make sure I knew what I was getting myself into,” Joey said, patting Seto’s chest.

Seto grinned wide. “There’s still time to run you know.”

He shook his head. “I’m not going anywhere tonight.”

Seto kissed him again, and then hand in hand they climbed into the car.

...

The hotel room was the perfect temperature, and with the cloth covered windows, Joey could pretend it wasn’t even winter. He stretched against the messy sheets, breathing in and out. It was the nicest fucking hotel room he’d ever been in, even in the dim lighting, with a kitchen and seating area bigger than the apartment. The shower ran in the bathroom with sweet smelling steam pouring out against the sliver of golden light. The sluggish euphoria was leaving his body, and Joey clicked on the light to check his messages.

Tonight had ended a hundred miles from where it started. He’d have to explain himself to Anzu, and he had work and his life to get back to, but for now he could enjoy himself. Joey tossed his phone aside and stood, shimmying back into his shorts. Okay, maybe he was being nosy. He’d never been in a place this fancy before. A table had discarded coffee cups and leftover wrappers tossed in the trash, and the fridge was full of glass bottles of bubbly water. The closet showed more outfits carefully hung up, but the suitcase had been kicked over and shirts tossed aside. Joey suspected Seto’s driver was responsible for anything that looked organized. Especially because there was a desk set up, papers piled up in mismatched files, and a briefcase left open with materials spilling out from it. Joey tapped a file folder with his finger. It was too difficult not to snoop. The pile of papers gave way with another careful nudge, sliding onto the floor. The contents of the file folder scattered out, and Joey cursed as he dropped to his knees to pick it up.

The top pages were a blur of numbers and figures and dollar signs with more zeroes than he could count. He shoved them back and paused when the corner of an old, half-crumple piece of paper stuck out. Pink crayon scratched across the page, faded and carefully covered in a protective sheet. Joey pulled it out and saw a princess drawn in pink, next to a sketchy knight in blue, and a dragon behind them both. A blue crayon arrow pointed to the knight with a carefully copied SETO in child’s script, and in pink it was signed ADENA. Joey smiled as he tucked it back into the file. A polaroid landed at his feet.

He expected to see Seto with his sister, and his heart stopped when he saw his own face instead. It was him, still just a kid, wearing the same rough worn jeans and tennis shoes he’d worn every day, his shaggy hair hacked at with kitchen scissors, and a tooth missing from a wide faced smile. His arm was thrown around another figure the small and lanky form of a young Seto. Dressed in clean, crisp clothes, his big eyes were framed in dark heavy bangs, his big ears sticking out, and his face curved up in an almost imperceptible smile. They sat together on the grass, with the sun shining down on them. Scrawled in pen in the corner was the year 1993.

“I couldn’t hold onto a lot,” Seto said from behind him, and Joey jumped up. “But I managed a few things.”

“Sorry,” Joey said. He scooped up the rest of the papers and dropped them on the desk. “I didn’t mean to snoop.”

Seto smiled as he ran a towel through his hair. “You did.”

“I didn’t mean to get caught,” Joey admitted. “I can’t believe you have a picture of us. I couldn’t find one when I looked.”

“You looked,” Seto repeated.

He flopped back down on the bed. “I mean, I saw your picture on a magazine and I was like there’s no way that’s the same scrawny kid. I wasn’t lugging around your picture in a locket or anything.”

“It’s not in a locket.” Seto dropped down on the bed beside him. “I hold onto all sorts of things I think will give me inspiration.”

“You find me inspiring,” Joey said with a grin.

“It’s a nice reminder where I came from,” Seto intoned. “So I don’t let the little people down.”

“Jackass,” Joey groaned. “And here I thought you were pining for me all these years.”

“Don’t get bigheaded,” he said.

Joey snorted out a laugh. “It’d be kinda romantic if you were. And creepy. But also romantic.”

“It’s good to know you don’t find those things mutually exclusive.”

Seto laid down so their heads were touching, bodies splayed out at different angles. It was a strange way for Joey to be after sex. Usually he was out the door as soon as he could stand. Seto didn’t seem bothered either.

“Things might be different in the morning,” Joey said out loud.

Seto nodded. “It’s like you said. We’re going in two different directions.”

“Yeah, but.” Joey swallowed. “We already met again once. Maybe they don’t have to be mutually exclusive.”

Seto was silent for a few heartbeats before he rolled over so he was facing Joey.

“Give me your phone,” he said.

Joey laughed. “Why?”

“I don’t trust things to be left up to fate.” He took the proffered phone and frowned at the cracked screen before swiping over to contacts. “If you want to meet again, you’re going to tell me. Don’t worry about where. I have a private jet.”

Joey laughed again, burying his face in the comforter. “You don’t have to keep impressing me you know!”

“I’m just naturally impressive.” He tossed the phone aside and sidled up beside him. It wasn’t quite cuddling, but there was comfort in each other. “People say I’m crazy, you know.”

“Is this more sweet talk?” Joey asked.

“And stubborn.” Seto’s blue eyes blinked up at him beneath dark lashes. “And ruthless, when I want to be. I don’t like having my time wasted, so if my inbox is going to sit empty I’m not going to hold my breath. You said you wanted to know what you were in for.”

“I guess I did.” Joey breathed out. “People have said those same things about me. I’ve got a long history you don’t know about and the rap sheet to prove it. I had some hard times and I don’t like to talk about it.”

“I could say the same thing.” Seto’s lip quirked up in a smile. “At least your rap sheet isn’t listed on Wikipedia.”

Joey rolled on his side. They were face to face now, breath mingling between them.

“It’s not like we’re dating,” he said. “You’re an international tech giant CEO, and I’m…”

“Hard to pin down,” Seto said.

“Right. So we’re, what, exactly?”

Seto’s mouth curved down as he folded his lips together. Joey held his breath as he watched him.

“I think,” Seto said, “we’re friends. It’s what we’ve always been.”

A smile cracked Joey’s face. He breathed out a relieved laugh.

“Yeah,” he said. “I like it. Friends.”

It wasn’t the full story. It would never be the full story. Even in the dark of the room, with the cold midnight outside, with each kiss and touch and sigh, Joey could feel sunshine, smell the ocean, and for a moment linger somewhere where he was happy. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t make him want to run away. Yeah, they were miles away from where they started tonight, but maybe it was where they’d been going the whole time.

[pocket-ozwynn]

Do you have any random facts about your characters that are just too random to put into 1 post? I'm a baby creator still not knowing a lot about my own works yet so it's really interesting to see creators knowing their characters more in depth. Basically, a fact dump of your characters would be very much appreciated! 😳

SCREAM oh you're so sweet fr 😭 bless you @smolcomfycat

AAAAAAAH okay so I'm using this as a self-indulgent "it's my birthday so I'm just gonna ramble about my blorbos because they make my heart sparkle", so find everything you'd like to know below the cut 💜

(if y’all have any additional questions, feel free to shoot an Ask! This is just kinda of the top of the iceberg of what I could ramble regarding kdaflsjkgfjd)

-Freyja's jersey number 26 is in reference to my birthday:)

-Freyja & Alice’s ship name is Herbeau

-Rowan & Zelly’s ship name is Rolly

-Zelly's inspiration was taken largely from the fact I was really into watching Twitch/was fascinated with Streamer culture during 2020-22.

-Zelly swears like a sailor, so sorry you’ll never see me actually write that lol

-Both Zelly & Rowan were born outside of the continental U.S. in Offline Valor.

-Like Freyja, her sisters all have names taken from Norse mythology. 

-Freyja asked out Alice first, but after a few dates Alice was the one who eventually ask if he could kiss her.

-Freyja loves to rock climb.

-Freyja focuses better when she has something to fidget with.

-Alice went as unnamed for more than 6 months. Originally he was just called Freyja’s “little beau” which helped prompt the eventually surname Beauchamp.

-Alice is a musical theatre kid! He’s been in three productions and was the lead in one of them as well. 

-Genesis Day and Kaiju!Freyja really came a from common complaint regarding Kaiju/Giant Monster movies and how the human element is always the weakest/most boring. So I decided to blend the elements of the Human & the Monster to really dissect and peel back some new themes and dynamics. (plus I also discovered some things about myself during the course of designing her Kaiju form. ...no, why do you ask if I'm a monsterfu-)

-Alice was designed with the central color of lavender and purple in mind, and that was back when I only owned a single dark purple shirt which was too small for me. Now I have two lavender hoodies, and several lavender and purple shirts/button-downs. Honestly it was an experiment to have Alice wear lavender before me because I really wanted to ALLOW myself to love that color, and now I can't separate myself from it.

-Zelly’s full first name is Zelda. She was named after Zelda Fitzgerald however, and not after Princess Zelda. She grew up being called Zelda by her parents but once she got older and expressed an interest in streaming she started to go by Zelly because she thought it was incredibly cringe for a video gamer to be seemingly named after a fictional character.

-Freyja is canonically built like Lusia from Encanto, and now it's so much easier to explain to people what Freyja's shape language is for commissions and such. 😭

-Rowan was taught how to dance by Princeps Lazuli before their falling out. He can still dance, but is sheepish about it.

-Rowan was adopted by Clan Ash when he was roughly 8 or 9 and was raised by a woman named Thistle, who is the sister of Oleander. There's some spoilers as to Thistle's role within the Clan, but I love her<3

-Oleander was instructed by Clan Ash’s leader, Lowlord Yucca, to train Rowan how to fight and kill when he was roughly 11 or so.

-When designing Lazuli, I wanted the main color of their house be a dark turquoise because I remember my Mom wearing a lot of turquoise jewelry growing up. So my brain automatically associates turquoise with finery and royalty.

-When designing Maura I knew I didn’t want her to fall into the “popular plastic” trope. Rather, I wanted her to be the “sweater vest wearing, smiley business major going to Sunday School who no one would suspect is utterly toxic and manipulative.” I think the specific wording that came to mind was “viper in sheep’s clothing.”

-In AUs where Freyja is a Human (namely Offline Valor/Borrower!AU & Emotional Shifter!Alice AU), she rides a motorcycle and does a lot of mechanic work for her family and friends.

-Rowan’s main titles--Unmowable, Crownbreaker, Matchside--come from three separate instances of his direct involvement in stopping coups/takeovers of different kingdoms within the area. He earned the first and third titles thanks to attempts on his life, while the second--arguably the most famous epithet--is the most recent, and was earned after disposing the last tyrannical monarch of the greater area roughly two or three years ago when he was 23.

-The inspiration for Rust comes from my childhood love of powerful, masked brutes/bounty hunters whose faces you might never ever see or you'd never hear speak.

-There is deeply sentimental feelings for Rowan regarding his cloak (which is, in fact, a cloth that's used to clean glasses).

-Rust isn’t a full-blooded Borrower.

-Fireteam Griffin was my first attempt to really include new AU-centric OCs for Genesis Day & the Kaiju!AU. Because I knew that the story would start off with Maura & Alice together (and Alice purposefully isolated from other friends as a result), so I wanted Freyja her own friends that weren't tied solely to Alice. Inspired by other ensemble casts (Power Rangers, Voltron, the original Halo novels), I wanted Freyja to have a small cast of pseudo-siblings. I ended up loving the dynamics of Ekland, Williams, Delgado, and Hunter SO much that they're now going to be included into the University!AU as the "Griffin House" and will all play different sports and be besties with Freyja. Sergeant Buck will also be in GTU but will be a professor and maybe the Griffin House act as his research assistance or somethin’.

[stirringwinds]

Just wondering why you give Aus and NZ the surname Kirkland when they’re independent? And if so, why not the same for Canada? Is it because Canada has a diff name in canon? Would be interesting to know if you have the time. :)

Good question—and to answer, I don't see them sticking to Kirkland forever, actually. If you're referring to the character sheet I drew of 🇺🇸🇨🇦🇦🇺🇳🇿 in their WWII uniforms some time back, it’s because Jack/AUS and Zee/NZ will change it after WWII in my headcanon. For me, WWII (and after) is a really big milestone in how the Arthur-Jack-Zee-Matt-Alfred dynamic is drastically reconfigured. 

Name-wise—Zee and Jack's backgrounds were based on a lot of @draw-a-circle-thats-the-foxhole’s ideas and collaboratively explored together (particularly moving away from canon!NZ’s appearance), so we have some shared/overlapping headcanons about them. In this case, the post-Kirkland surnames I headcanon are the ones she chose (Kaipo for Zee and Kelly for Jack).

As to why I see it being after WWII: While NZ and AUS had considerable self-governance as dominions compared to other British colonies even before WWII, events in the 1940s like the adoption of the Westminster Act, which reduced British powers over its dominions and other developments that made NZ/AUS Parliaments fully sovereign and stripped the British Parliament of any vestiges of control are very significant milestones to me. Because before that, Britain still had some level of control/influence over their foreign policy for example—this had enormous consequences in WWI, and it will again in WWII. WWII however, is where British power wanes obviously and decisively— where their Eldest Brother (tm) finally eclipses their old man for good. Especially since they are both Pacific nations—it’s Alfred who turns the tide of the Pacific War as the juggernaut filling the vacuum left by the destroyed European empires—especially the much vaunted British navy. Post-1945 is decolonisation, the evolution of the British Empire into the Commonwealth—a time of power realignment and reassessment of their relationships and identities.

So, I personally headcanon Zee changing her surname in 1948. NZ adopted the Westminster Act in 1947 and a new nationality law in 1948—which had the effect of making New Zealanders NZ citizens, not just “British subjects.” Jack would be earlier, in late 1945, after the end of WWII in the Asia-Pacific. This is because his own Westminster Act was adopted in 1942—motivated in large part by the disastrous Fall of Singapore, which saw thousands of Australian, British, Indian and local soldiers captured as POWs by a much smaller Japanese force, due to spectacularly bad British planning (and a whiff of arrogance about British invincibility). He only makes it official in 1945 because it’s way too troublesome administratively to change his name in the middle of a war. However, he might’ve informally started referring to himself that way before that. So, WWII is in many ways the major rupture. I see them still having r/ships with their Old Man in the postwar afterlife, but it’s a changed and more equalised dynamic. 

As to Matt, yes, partly because he already has a different name in canon. But I also see him never ever being a “Kirkland” (unlike the short-lived Alfred Fly-from-Fornication Kirkland, lol)—he was, well, Mathieu Marc Jean-Luc Bonnefoy at first, but then later adopted Williams when he became incorporated under Arthur’s rule. Admittedly, I might’ve gone about it completely differently if it weren’t his canon name I guess. One very rough idea I’ve had to make canon fit is that “William” is Arthur’s middle name (on Arthur’s part, it’s from William the Conqueror, the Norman king who invaded England) and Williams ended up as some sort of compromise between Matt and Arthur, which Matt later didn’t mind keeping after full independence because it’s different from “Kirkland” and England to most people is just “Arthur Kirkland”. 

[robininthelabyrinth]

Prompt: WWX is one of JGS's bastard sons, raised by his mother and her husband - until they die when he's young. Then he gets taken into the Jin sect instead of the Jiang.

Right Hand Man - ao3

It was a bad day.

All the days were a little bad, but this one was especially bad.

“He’s Cangse Sanren’s child,” Jin Zixuan’s father said, tapping his fan against his palm so that he would look more like a scholar. Secretly, shamefully, Jin Zixuan thought that it didn’t really work – he just looked like one of those scoundrels that tried to pay for their meals with calligraphy instead of pennies. “Taking him in will show our strength.”

“You dare bring one of your bastard children here,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, “and I will drown A-Xuan myself rather than let him suffer through the shame of it.”

Jin Zixuan shivered. No matter how many times he heard his mother say that in her cold and vicious voice, he never got used to it. She’d explained to him that it was the only thing that might work on his father – the fear of losing face like that, of shaming his ancestors, of cutting off his legitimate line – and she was his mother so of course Jin Zixuan believed her, but sometimes when she said it like that he thought she might really go ahead and do it.

“It’s the immortal mountain,” his father argued, ignoring the threat. “The perceived connection is only to our benefit…and anyway, he wouldn’t be legitimized or anything. Legally, his father is that Wei Changze – I could even bring the boy in as a servant if that pleased you more!”

“Nothing you say or do will ever please me,” she said, and that’s when she started throwing things and he started shouting and Jin Zixuan waited until they weren’t paying any attention to him before slipping out.

They’d make a decision one way or another.

It didn’t have anything to do with him.

-

Wei Wuxian was nominally brought in as a guest disciple, but everyone knew he was really a servant.

Jin Zixuan’s mother made sure everyone knew.

Despite this, Wei Wuxian smiled at everyone, seeming as carefree as a butterfly. It didn’t seem to bother him when he wasn’t allowed to wear sparks amidst snow, or even the usual gold of the guest disciples – Jin Zixuan’s mother said that it was better that he wear plain colors, like white or black, to represent his father and mother and show the world that he hadn’t forgotten his filial piety. It didn’t seem to bother him that he had to room with the other servants, or that he wasn’t invited to dinner at the same time as the rest of them, or that he got less training time –

Whatever it was, it didn’t bother him.

It bothered Jin Zixuan, though.

He started having the old nightmares again – the ones where his mother belatedly found out that he’d been swapped in the cradle for another bastard child of Jin Guangshan, and started treating him just the way she treated all the rest of them while praising some other boy up to the heavens – and his temperament, never considered especially good, got worse due to lack of sleep.

“Go talk to him,” Mianmian suggested. “Maybe if you see he’s reallynot bothered by it…”

“It doesn’t matter if he’s not bothered,” Jin Zixuan muttered. “It’s that I would be bothered if I were him.”

She didn’t understand, of course. Most people didn’t.

They couldn’t understand why Jin Zixuan was so bothered by the knowledge that his parents’ love was conditional on his bloodline and legitimacy – after all, he was the beneficiary of that bias, wasn’t he? What did it matter to him if they were cold to others?

Jin Zixuan didn’t know how to explain that the problem was in knowing that their love was conditional.

It didn’t help that Wei Wuxian was excelling despite all his disadvantages – all their teachers praised him in private, or else when they thought that no one surnamed Jin was listening. All of his mother’s dark speculations about what his father would do if ever there was a bastard child brought back that turned out to be even more talented than he was rang in Jin Zixuan’s ears, and he couldn’t help but look at Wei Wuxian, and wonder if this was it, this was the moment, if he was finally going to be replaced…but no, that would never happen. He was the one with the right blood.

It didn’t matter if he wasn’t actually the best.

Nothing he did in life mattered, really. Nothing had ever mattered since the day he’d been born from the right womb.

“He’s actually really nice,” Mianmian said, and Jin Zixuan looked up, wondering what she was talking about, only to blanch when he realized that she was talking to Wei Wuxian. “Just shy, that’s all –”

“Mianmian!” Jin Zixuan hissed, rushing over, horrified. “He can’t be here! If my mother finds out –”

“Is that what you’re afraid of?” Wei Wuxian asked, his face brightening. “I thought you just didn’t like me!”

“I don’t know you,” Jin Zixuan said. “How could I dislike you? But really, my mother –”

“We can be friends!” Wei Wuxian declared, and Jin Zixuan was rendered immediately mute. What exactly could he say to that?

He wanted to be friends, too.

-

His mother found out, because she always found out, and when she did, she threatened to feed Wei Wuxian to the dogs.

It turned out that Wei Wuxian was scared of dogs, something Jin Zixuan’s mother had figured out pretty quickly. That wasn’t a surprise – she knew best how to find people’s weaknesses, and also how to use them. Looking at Wei Wuxian’s sickly pale face, it was clear to Jin Zixuan that this wasn’t the first time dogs had appeared in one of his mother’s punishment, although this was clearly more severe than in the past.

“It was my idea,” he lied, acting on impulse. “Mother, I want him to be my personal servant.”

“Ridiculous,” she scoffed.

“Why is it ridiculous?” he asked. “Wouldn’t the contrast between us only be magnified that way?”

She pursed her lips, but that wasn’t a ‘no’.

Seeing a possible waver, Jin Zixuan decided to trade away one of the very few point on which he and his mother had long disagree.

“He’s charming,” he said. “He can help me woo the Jiang sect girl.”

His mother knew him well enough to know that he was trying to manipulate her, but he also knew that she liked it when he did that. Men were supposed to be upright, straightforward, and virtuous, and yet she liked to see him being subtle and sly – it reminded her of herself. It made her feel like he was more her blood than his father’s, even though in actuality those traits could very well be his father’s, too.

Unfortunately, sneakiness wasn’t really in Jin Zixuan’s nature. Comparing his straightforward and even a little stupid self to his clever and cunning parents, he didn’t know who he took after – it was part of the reason he had so many nightmares about being some cuckoo’s child left in the Jin sect’s nest.

“Fine,” his mother said at last. “He gets one shot.”

Later, when she’d swept off, an empress with her retinue, Mianmian looked at Jin Zixuan with wide eyes. “But Jin-gongzi,” she said. “You don’t wantto marry the Jiang sect girl.”

“I’ve never met her,” Jin Zixuan hedged, which was also true but a little vaguer. He didn’t want to marry a girl he’d never met, one who was several years his elder and who had been described to him only as ‘nice’ and ‘average at best’, just because her mother was his mother’s old friend. He didn’t want his marriage to be yet another thing he had to do because he was someone’s child, rather than his own man.

He wasn’t going to get a choice, though, no matter what he did, just as always. Might as well use it for something good.

Wei Wuxian crashed into him a moment later, clutching him so tightly that it hurt.

“I’ll pay you back,” he promised, his voice tight. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll be your best friend ever!”

“That’s good enough,” Jin Zixuan said, his face suddenly hot. “There doesn’t need to be anything more.”

-

Wei Wuxian really was very charming when they went to visit the Lotus Pier, far more charming than Jin Zixuan ever was or would be, and his future bride seemed positively enchanted by him, which was probably a bad thing.

Jin Zixuan felt he should probably do something about it, but he didn’t know what, so he just snuck off and went to go dip his feet into the river, something he almost never got the chance to go while at home.

“I’m sorry,” the Jiang sect heir, Jiang Cheng, said, sitting gingerly next to him.

Jin Zixuan looked at him sidelong, a little surprised. He’d thought that Jiang Cheng hated him. “What for?”

“My sister. Your half-brother.” Jiang Cheng looked uncomfortable. “I can’t even imagine growing up with someone who’d flirt with the person I was engaged to.”

Jin Zixuan thought it over, then shook his head. “I don’t think he likes her like that. Or her him, either,” he said, since it seemed like Jiang Cheng had misunderstood both Wei Wuxian and his own sister. “Wei Wuxian’s just – like that,” he added. “Always. Everyone loves him unless they’re specifically told not to.”

“That’s worse.” Jiang Cheng wrinkled his nose. “He’s the ‘other person’s child’ here, you know. My father really liked his parents – he’s always talking about him. My mother says he wishes he were his son, instead of your father’s.”

“Now that sounds awful.” Probably better for Wei Wuxian, though. Jiang Fengmian would probably treat him like a real son, not the way Jin Guangshan did, like a pawn or a liability or a bastard brought in just for his possible connections – but it would probably be much worse for Jiang Cheng, who’d have to live with that happening right in front of him. It seemed mean to wish for such a thing. “He’s actually pretty nice? We’re friends. I asked him to help me make friends with your sister…I’m not really good at making friends, when it’s just me.”

He hadn’t expected them to hit it off that well, though. At least to Jin Zixuan’s eyes, they’d clearly all but adopted each other as brother and sister the moment they laid eyes on each other…which in his opinion was actually a little bit worse, since he felt like he himself was still painfully trying to figure out what being a sibling was like, and maybe failing at it.

And in all honesty, he felt a little resentful at Wei Wuxian for being picked, too – or was it a little bereft? No one ever picked him just because they wanted to; it was all because of who he was.

Who his parents were.

“I can be your friend, too, if you like,” Jiang Cheng said. He was scowling into the distance. “A better one.”

“Uh,” Jin Zixuan said, startled. “Don’t you – not like me?”

“We’re friends now,” Jiang Cheng scowled at him. “Deal with it!”

-

Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a lot, and he liked Jiang Cheng, too, and Nie Huaisang, who he’d just met, fit in with the two of them as if they were three peas in a pod, so he guessed he must like him, too – but if those three endlessly chattering idiots didn’t shut up and let him study he was going to throw himself off some cliff in Gusu and be done with it.

“You really don’t mind me sitting here?” he asked Lan Wangji, who nodded.

Nodded and did not respond verbally – blissful silence!

Still, Jin Zixuan lingered a bit by the door to the peaceful little pavilion he’d found and thought to claim for himself as a secret study place – necessary on account of the fact that Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Nie Huaisang spent all their free time together making trouble instead of studying, because Wei Wuxian just did that to people, winning them over despite themselves and then leading them into mischief – only to learn that it belonged to Lan Wangji. It was filled with gentians, which were more Jiang Cheng’s color than Jin Zixuan’s, but Jin Zixuan had seen enough peonies for a lifetime and needed the concealment besides.

It was very kind of Lan Wangji to let him stay, but he still felt he ought to apologize.

And not just for the intrusion.

Wei Wuxian’s ignominious departure from Lan Qiren’s classroom had made it much more peaceful, but that had come at a cost to Lan Wangji’s own education and opportunity to make friends with others – and while Jin Zixuan liked Wei Wuxian a great deal, he wasn’t sure how Lan Wangji felt about being stuck having to monitor him all day.

And now Lan Wangji was being nice to Jin Zixuan, letting him disturb his privacy like this without complaint, and even agreeing to let him stay so that he’d have somewhere quiet to study…he really ought to say something. Maybe apologize for Wei Wuxian, if that was appropriate. It probably was: he was responsible for him, in his own way. The only problem was that he wasn’t sure how to start the conversation –

“Do you like Wei Wuxian?” he blurted out, then felt his face go bright red. He hadn’t meant to ask it that way! After all, who didn’t know how much Lan Wangji disliked Wei Wuxian? He was always glaring at him and saying he was speaking nonsense and telling him to get lost and –

Lan Wangji nodded.

Jin Zixuan blinked. He did? But then why –

“Oh,” he said, suddenly realizing. “You’re socially awkward, too!”

Lan Wangji frowned at him, and Jin Zixuan waved his hands.

“No, no, I don’t mean that as an insult,” he said hastily, trying to cover for his blunder. “It’s like me! I always say the wrong thing, so most of the time I try not to say anything – of course people always get the wrong idea anyway, thinking I’m being quiet because I’m looking down at them…Wei Wuxian’s getting better at understanding people, but he’s still not very good at it, either. I bet he has no idea! If you like him, you should say as much.”

Lan Wangji shook his head.

“…I could say it for you, if you want?”

Even more urgent head-shaking.

Honestly, if Lan Wangji were a woman, Jin Zixuan would’ve thought that he had a crush.

As it was, he was probably just like Jin Zixuan: naturally awkward, and shy about it, too.

“It’s all right,” he said encouragingly. “Next time they throw a party, you can come and sit with me; we can have tea and pretend not to know them. It’s what I always do.”

Lan Wangji stared at him for a long moment, and then finally nodded very slowly.

“I appreciate the offer,” he said, voice neutral. “Thank you.”

-

When the time came and the Wen sect pushed things too far, naturally Jin Zixuan stood up for Mianmian.

Wei Wuxian, Jiang Cheng, and Lan Wangji all did, too.

Naturally, this made Jin Zixuan feel like complete crap on their account – Mianmian was his friend, his sect, and naturally he had a responsibility towards her; the rest of them were just helping because they were good people, and good friends. But at this point they’d done it, and Wen Chao was angry at them all over it, and there was nothing to be done about it.

And then there was the Xuanwu of Slaughter, and they were all trapped inside with it.

Sometimes, he really hated the Wen sect. Often, even.

“Jiang Cheng, you and Jin Zixuan lead the way out,” Wei Wuxian instructed. “No, don’t protest! You’re heirs of Great Sects; everyone will follow you and listen to you, and that’s critical – you’ll need to evade the Wen sect’s efforts to recapture you. That means cohesion, and cohesion means hierarchy. I’ll stay behind to distract the Xuanwu…”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Jiang Cheng exclaimed.

Jin Zixuan nudged him. “Wei Wuxian’s usually right about this sort of thing,” he reminded him. It was a good thing they’d gotten over that period in their lives when Jiang Cheng thought Wei Wuxian was an evil thief who wanted to take away his older sister and Jin Zixuan’s rightful spouse, when they’d fought all the time while Jin Zixuan desperately tried to get between them. He still had no idea what magic alchemy had happened that had suddenly made them best friends – he suspected Mianmian, or maybe Jiang Yanli – but he was deeply grateful for it. “And we can’t risk the majority. Preserve human life above all else, remember? Teacher Lan’s lessons were very clear.”

“I will remain with Wei Ying,” Lan Wangji said, to no one’s surprise. They’d been more or less inseparable after Jin Zixuan had recruited Jiang Cheng and Nie Huaisang to help them get along better after Wei Wuxian’s temporary exile to the Library Pavilion had ended. It helped that Lan Qiren had pulled Wei Wuxian aside for personal lessons to help him catch up with the rest of them, and that those had somehow metamorphosed into afternoon sessions about inventing new types of musical cultivation techniques in which Lan Wangji and Wei Wuxian were the most enthusiastic, and only, students.

Best of all, it had given the rest of them a chance to finally actually do their work.

Well, not Nie Huaisang, but that was only to be expected.

“But your leg –” Wei Wuxian started, and Jin Zixuan nudged him.

“He’ll only be more worried if you don’t let him stay back and join you,” he said reasonably. “Anyway, it’s good for you to have an incentive not to detour into some big flashy heroic bullshit.”

“Awww, but Jin Zixuan, I like big flashy heroic bullshit!”

Jin Zixuan was, by this point, almost entirely convinced that Wei Wuxian actually was the biological child of Wei Changze, and that his father had lied, both about the man’s supposed infertility and possibly about having slept with Cangse Sanren at all. From Jiang Cheng’s stories, inherited from his father, it seemed that Wei Changze was also the sort of person who went in for big flashy heroic bullshit and reckless humor, the sort that would win him a disciple of an immortal mountain as a bride; it certainly seemed more likely than him sharing blood with Jin Zixuan or his father or even Jin Zixun, all of whom tended towards arrogance, but whose flash was all in their clothing.

Not that it mattered at this late date, of course. They were brothers now – as Nie Huaisang would put it, there were no takebacks allowed.

“No bullshit, you hear me?” Jin Zixuan repeated, looking pointedly at Wei Wuxian. “Not allowed. Take care of yourself, okay? Don’t make me have to tell Mistress Jiang that I lost her favorite idiot friend.”

“You tell her?” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I’ll have to tell her. All right, let’s go.”

-

Jiang Yanli was not impressed with the fact that they’d left Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji alone in a cave with a giant murderous turtle.

She still made them soup and gave them bandages to wrap up their bloody feet, though.

(Jin Zixuan was never going to make a good impression on her, no matter what Jiang Cheng said.)

-

“Wen Chao has demanded recompense for the mess at the Nightless City,” Jin Zixuan’s mother said, reading a letter. Her lips curled up in a strange little smile. “He said Wei Wuxian’s right hand would do.”

“Mother,” Jin Zixuan exclaimed, leaping to his feet with his eyes wide. He’d only been home a week from the indoctrination camp, and Wei Wuxian was still lying in bed most of the time, pretending he wasn’t exhausted; Wen Chao must have sent the letter almost immediately after he’d realized they’d escaped. “You can’t be serious!”

“Why not?” she asked. “It’s just what the little bastard deserves, always trying to outshine you.”

Jin Zixuan shook his head, frantically trying to think of a way out of this, because he knew his mother wouldn’t so much as hesitate to order such an atrocity. She’d never forgiven Wei Wuxian for the possibility of being a threat to Jin Zixuan’s position, however remote the chance, and she’d tried very hard to convince Jin Zixuan of it, too – it was the only thing they didn’t agree on, the only thing Jin Zixuan didn’t yield to her on, and he hated every moment of it.

But not as much as his mother hated it.

It was the only thing she couldn’t control in his life, and she hatedit, and hated Wei Wuxian for it, too.

(She couldn’t hate Jin Zixuan. She couldn’t, because he had the right blood, because he was her son, because he was the heir of Lanling Jin and the source of all her power. But sometimes, when the light was dim and she glanced over too quickly and thought she saw his father when she looked at him, he thought that she wanted to.)

“You can’t be serious,” Jin Zixuan said a second time, keeping calm by sheer willpower. No one but him would dare to object if his mother made a move, especially in his father’s absence…and even if his father was there, Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure his father cared enough about Wei Wuxian to endure another fight with his fearsome wife. “Mother, he’s my servant – my responsibility. Whatever he does is my responsibility, whether to my credit or to my deficit. That’s how that works. They may be asking for Wei Wuxian’s hand, but who’s to say, when they come to claim it, that they won’t seek mine instead?”

“They wouldn’t dare.”

“It’s the Wen sect,” Jin Zixuan reminded her. “What don’t they dare?”

She pursed her lips, thinking it over, and for a moment he thought he’d won. “Perhaps,” she allowed, and before he could even breath a sight of relief continued, “But no matter. They’ve set the price, and we can pay it, so why not? We can cut off his hand and send it to them as a peace offering in advance. After all, they’re important allies of ours, and he’s just a bastard.”

“But –”

“No, A-Xuan. No more arguing; I’ve decided.” Her smile broadened. “We’ll do it now.”

Jin Zixuan couldn’t fight with his mother. He’d never had the courage – he was as spineless as his father.

Almost as spineless.

“Yes, Mother,” he said, and drew his sword.

“A-Xuan..?”

“My servant, my responsibility,” he reminded her, and he knew that she’d misunderstood, that she thought that he was going to go take care of the grim task himself. He knew, because for a brief moment in time she looked happy – not true joy, but the only way she ever looked happy for as long as he could remember, like she’d won one over on someone and gotten her way despite everyone’s efforts. He hated to disappoint her. “I have my honor to think of, too.”

-

Jin Zixuan sent Wei Wuxian to the Lotus Pier, bearing words of warning. His father’s spies had reported that the Wen sect would probably target them first, using Jiang Cheng’s interference in the Xuanwu cave as an excuse – there wasn’t any point going after the Lan sect a second time, and the Jin sect were longstanding allies of Wen Ruohan, with Jin Guangshan being a coward at heart; if Wen Ruohan could keep him out of the inevitable war for a little longer by playing nice, he would.

Word came back not long after that they’d been right: the Lotus Pier had been destroyed.

It also said that Jiang Cheng and Jiang Yanli were missing – missing, but not dead. It didn’t say anything about their parents, and that was suspicious, too.

Maybe sending Wei Wuxian had helped after all.

“We should reach out to the Nie sect,” Jin Zixuan told his father. “With our money and their strength, we can resist the Wen sect long enough for the smaller sects to catch up.”

“The Wen sect is all-powerful,” his father objected. “What’s even the point of resisting? We’d be better off reaching out to them to see if we can reach a peaceful agreement.”

“We’ve already seen what agreement they want to reach,” Jin Zixuan said, and his father’s gaze dropped guiltily to his waist. Jin Zixuan didn’t bother looking down himself. He didn’t do that much, these days. “Am I your heir or am I not? You promised me that I’d inherit a sect, not slavery. Reach out to the Nie sect.”

Jin Zixuan should not talk that way to his father. He had always been a filial son, and a spineless one; his father’s son, and nothing else. The only thing he had going for him was the right blood – and even that wasn't that sure a bet, these days. He knew his father was already thinking about Jin Zixun in a way that suggested that all those rumors about his ‘cousin’ having a different father than the one everyone said he had might have some merit.

It seemed, though, that when pushed to it, he was also his mother’s son.

He hoped she choked on the knowledge.

“Reach out to the Nie sect,” he said again. “With all the cultivation world uniting, the Wen sect’s fall is inevitable. If we don’t act now, we’ll be seen as cowards, hanging back and waiting to see how things fall out to eke out the best advantage – if we act, we’ll be seen as heroes.”

“But what if you’re wrong, and the Wen sect does win?”

“Then we’ll tell Sect Leader Wen that we’re perfectly positioned to negotiate the other sects’ terms of surrender, and use that to win anyway,” Jin Zixuan said, less because he thought that was an acceptable course of action and more because he knew it would be what his father would do anyway. “Call the Nie sect.”

-

“I’m going to kill you,” Jiang Cheng hissed, wild-eyed, and Jin Zixuan blinked at him, taken aback.

“Is it because I wasn’t able to do more to help with the Lotus Pier?” he asked, feeling helpless. “I really did try to convince my father to send more people, but I barely even got him not to block my sending Wei Wuxian –”

“Not because of that!”

Jin Zixuan took a step back. “Uh, then –”

“You cut off your own hand you maniac!”

“The situation –” Jin Zixuan started backing up. “It was necessary – Wei Wuxian, help!”

“No, he’s right,” Wei Wuxian said, arms crossed. His eyes were teary, but they’d been that way since he’d left Jinlin Tower – ever since the Wen sect’s letter. “You’re a maniac, and Jiang Cheng’s going to kill you, and you’re going to deserve it.”

Lan Wangji, standing beside him, nodded.

“It’s not that bad, really.” Jin Zixuan tried to explain. “My mother and father would never have accepted anything else – threats to me are the only thing that work on them, and even that’s stopped working after all these years. Only a real injury would have an impact. If they hadn’t been so shocked, they would’ve just continued to ignore what the Wen sect was doing, or offered them an olive branch, and then then the Wen sect would’ve used that as an opportunity to come and divide up everyone else. We’d lose precious time to regroup, and the Wen sect would only get stronger and stronger –”

“You. Cut. Off. Your. Hand!”

“The Wen sect demanded the hand of the person who started the rebellion in the Xuanwu cave,” Jin Zixuan said quietly. “That was me, not Wei Wuxian. Why should he pay my debts?”

Everyone still seemed very upset, but maybe a little less murderous. Definitely a lot more teary-eyed.

“Couldn’t you have at least picked your other hand?” Wei Wuxian mumbled. “Your right hand – that’s your sword arm.”

Jin Zixuan shrugged. “They demanded the right hand,” he said. “Anyway, it’s fine, I’ve been using my left, and it’s been going smoothly enough…you know, I think I might actually be left-handed? I never knew; everyone always made me use my right.”

“Does it hurt?” Lan Wangji asked suddenly, and Jin Zixuan hesitated, not sure how to respond to that.

Unfortunately, everyone else took that in the worst way possible, and insisted on taking care of him, no matter how much he tried to explain that it didn’t hurt, not really, not anymore; it was just the strangest feeling of absence. Like something that had always been there wasn’t there anymore.

A bit like his mother. She wasn’t talking to him anymore.

He was a terrible son, and would probably end up spending eternity in some afterlife hell being tortured for failing to properly honor his parents.

He’d already resigned himself.

“How are your parts of the war going?” he asked, trying to change the subject. “Chifeng-zun says it’s going well, but you know how he is; it’s all business with him, you never hear any stories. Did Wei Wuxian really knock out old Sect Leader Jiang when he refused to leave the Lotus Pier? Tell me he didn’t.”

“He did,” Jiang Cheng said, and he looked amused about it – maybe he’d be in the next boiling pot over in the afterlife of unfilial descendants. “He was a little frantic, you see, on account of not wanting to fail you by letting them die. After all, you had just cut off your own hand for him…”

“Are you ever going to let that drop?”

“Sure. As soon as you have two hands again.”

“…so, never.”

“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said patiently. “Never. Never ever, if that makes it clearer for you.”

-

Jin Zixuan’s new hand was made of steel and wire, under the gilding, and functioned using some of the innovative new talismans that Wei Wuxian had invented. He couldn’t help but hope that they weren’t part of the subset that constituted demonic cultivation because people were being really weird about that.

“It’s like people wanted for me to just die in the Burial Mounds,” Wei Wuxian complained. He was dressed in black and grey and red, which he’d apparently adopted as his new sect colors – Jin Zixuan had only managed to send him out of Lanling the first time by officially ejecting him from the Jin sect, a decision his father had initially endorsed but now, he suspected, was regretting.

It was a lot easier to throw out a servant than it was to invite back the founder of demonic cultivation, especially now that he was a war hero and a sect leader.

“You didn’t have to be in the Burial Mounds to begin with,” Jin Zixuan reminded him, to no avail. “I know I said I needed an army because my father wasn’t supplying us properly, but I didn’t mean ‘invent an entirely new cultivation technique and raise an army of the dead’. You know that, right?”

Wei Wuxian shrugged it off, because of course he did.

“You know, they’re calling me the Yiling Patriarch?” he said, and grinned. “It’s because the Burial Mounds are in Yiling, and because I’m founding my own sect. Or whatever. Like I wouldn’t be supporting you, anyway.”

“It has to be your own sect because otherwise you might be forced to share your secret techniques,” Jin Zixuan explained, not for the first time. “Rogue cultivators don’t have the same protections that sects do, even small sects. It doesn’t matter if you’re the only person in it. Or, well, you and Lan Wangji, I guess.”

“I still can’t believe he’s willing to leave the Lan sect to join me,” Wei Wuxian sighed happily. “He’s such a good friend.”

Jin Zixuan wasn’t sure about the strength of his new hand, which was the only reason he didn’t try to pinch the bridge of his nose in frustration. “You’re a bad influence, you know,” he said instead of trying to explain to Wei Wuxian that people didn’t generally leave their natal sects for the sake of a ‘good friend’. “I nearly hit a girl the other day.”

“You did? You? What’d she do?”

“She gave me soup and implied that she’d made it,” Jin Zixuan said. “Except it tasted exactly the same as the soup Mistress Jiang is always making for you – I’ve had it recently enough to know. Sure enough, I push the issue a bit and it turns out it was Mistress Jiang’s. The girl was just trying to claim credit as an excuse to get close to me.”

He sighed. He’d been so angry about it. They were at war! People were dying, losing their homes, losing everything, and this stupid girl could only think about how to plot and scheme to try to get to a prized position as the future Madame Jin. Had his mother done the same, when it’d been his father…?

“You’ve had shijie’s soup recently?” Wei Wuxian asked. His expression looked slightly odd. “Shijie made you soup?”

“Yeah, I think she’s been dropping off whatever’s left over at my tent when she’s done,” Jin Zixuan said, shaking his head. Jiang Yanli was so nice, really truly genuinely nice. He’d never met anyone like her. “Could you thank her for me? I appreciate the thoughtfulness – it’s filling enough that I don’t need to go to the mess, which means there’s more left over for everyone else.”

“…sure,” Wei Wuxian said. “I’ll tell her. Or, and here’s a thought – why don’t you tell her yourself?”

“Why would I? You’re the one she likes,” Jin Zixuan said, puzzled. “I mean, you’re her adopted little brother, aren’t you? She’s practically your second soulmate, after Lan Wangji.”

“I’m really busy,” Wei Wuxian announced, despite having been lazing around complaining that they didn’t have any encounters with the Wen sect lined up for a whole week only a few moments before. “I couldn’t possibly take the time out of my schedule to go talk to her – you see, I’ve had an idea, which is going to keep me very busy…in fact, I’m not even going to be here at all! I need to go to the Lan sect encampment to consult with Teacher Lan.”

Discovering that Lan Qiren had a mad scientist streak when it came to musical cultivation had been extremely disquieting, Jin Zixuan reflected. The world might’ve been better off if Lan Qiren had never had a chance to actually get friendly with Wei Wuxian – Wei Wuxian provided the terrible ideas, Lan Qiren scolded him about them and then helped him smooth the kinks out of them anyway.

Teacher for a day, father for a lifetime…

“All right,” Jin Zixuan said, though he still didn’t exactly understand what had just happened. “I’ll go talk to her, I guess.”

-

“I just wanted to make sure you know you’re not obligated to make me soup or anything,” Jin Zixuan said, not sure where this conversation had gone off the rails.

Probably around the time that Jiang Yanli had started smiling at him, because he always turned into an idiot whenever that happened. She was so very nice, not just average at all no matter what anyone said, and blissfully down-to-earth – she wouldn’t be wasting her time and everyone else’s thinking about how to politically advance herself despite there being a war on. She spent all her time learning field medicine and helping cook meals for the mess and –

And he’d better stop thinking because he was turning red again.

“I enjoy making soup for you,” Jiang Yanli said peaceably. “Especially since I know you enjoy it, too.”

“I do! It’s just, I don’t know, you already do so much, with the medics and organizing and everything…It’s – uh – I – listen, I know our parents – you don’t have to pay attention to that. I only have one hand, I’m not – don’t feel obligated, not because of that. And don’t let Wei Wuxian make you think making soup is the only thing you’re good for, no matter how much he likes it, okay? You do so much more than just that!”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said, covering her smile with her hand. “You’re very sweet, you know.”

Jin Zixuan made an incoherent sound.

He would need to do something in return, he thought, a little frantic; he really didn’t know how to deal with a sincere compliment from someone he actually liked. Maybe poetry? Girls were said to like poetry. He couldn’t write poetry worth a damn, but he could pay someone –

She kissed him on the cheek.

All thought abruptly departed.

“Don’t worry, it’s not inappropriate – after all, we’re already engaged,” Jiang Yanli said cheerfully. “Which I’m very good with, so don’t worry about that. Good luck in your next battle, Jin-gongzi.”

At some point she must have left, because she wasn’t there anymore, and Jin Zixuan was still opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water.

Mianmian peeked in, then snickered. “Oh no,” she said. “She broke him. Everyone! Come look! She totally broke him!”

-

“Did you actually cut off your hand to save a servant?” Jin Guangyao asked.

“It was a bit more complicated than that,” Jin Zixuan said, uncomfortable, then added, “Welcome to the family.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

For some reason, Jin Zixuan felt a shiver run up his spine. He didn’t think he liked this new brother of his, and he felt bad about it – he’d welcomed Wei Wuxian whole-heartedly, hadn’t he? Was it really that different when it actually was someone of his own blood?

He didn’t like that thought.

“I hope we can be friends,” he said, willing it to be true, and Jin Guangyao murmured something agreeable in return.

Jin Zixuan wished he liked him.

“My mother is going to hate you,” he said, because he knew that she would. “If she does, let me know, and I’ll try to stop her…not just her. If anyone treats you wrong, just tell me. I’ll stand up for you.”

Jin Guangyao smiled again.

“You’re so kind,” he said, and for some reason Jin Zixuan had the feeling that he didn’t mean it at all.

-

Jin Zixuan had been engaged since before he was born, and it still somehow came as a surprise to find himself married. Not just the event, either – these days he woke up with his wife in his arms and was forced to just stare at her lying there in the soft morning light and wonder how he got so lucky.

He was married.

To a very nice girl, who actually seemed to like him a great deal – she’d made that clear enough when she’d had a chance. Very clear, in fact, which was why there was also a very slight curve in her belly that meant that soon enough he wouldn’t just be married, but a father.

“You’d tell me if I was dreaming, right?” he asked Wei Wuxian, who was visiting again. He did that a lot, but in fairness he didn’t really have a settled place to live – everyone knew the supposed ‘sect’ he’d founded was little more than a sham. He’d been technically kicked out of the Jin sect and refused all offers to rejoin, and it seemed he wasn’t quite ready to scandalize the entire cultivation world by marrying into the Lan sect no matter what Lan Xichen had been hinting. Sometimes he and Lan Wangji spent time at the Lotus Pier with Jiang Cheng, or the Unclean Realm with Nie Huaisang under Nie Mingjue’s long-suffering gaze…everyone called Wei Wuxian the Yiling Patriarch, on account of him ‘founding’ his sect there – or rather, summoning up extra resentful energy from the Burial Mounds for the purposes of obtaining an army while minimizing the number of disturbed graves – but he wasn’t, not really. He didn’t live there or anything.

Who would want to live there?

“I would,” Wei Wuxian agreed, but he didn’t follow it up with teasing or anything the way he usually did.

He just looked very uncharacteristically perturbed.

“What is it?” Jin Zixuan asked. “Can I help?”

“No heroic bullshit,” Wei Wuxian said at once, which meant that there was a possibility of heroic bullshit. Given Wei Wuxian’s personality, that also meant that it was heroic bullshit that would be bad for the Jin sect, which he still felt bad about on account of them raising him and all…in all honesty, it might be a good thing in the long run that Jin Zixuan’s father and mother had been so awful to Wei Wuxian as a kid, and that he’d known it. If they’d been good to him, he never would have been willing to leave. “But, uh, remember Wen Ning?”

Jin Zixuan blinked. Wei Wuxian had told him some stories: a junior disciple of the Wen sect, from a branch family – Dafan Wen – who’d helped Wei Wuxian out a few times when he’d been smuggling the Jiang clan to freedom.

More than a few times: he’d been Wei Wuxian’s first disciple in matters of resentful energy, which Wei Wuxian had apparently been thinking of since forever and started playing around with more or less the moment he was no longer officially tied to a sect, and had been a valuable contact during the early period of the war before events had changed and he’d been lost.

“Yes,” he said. “What about him?”

He hadn’t thought of Wen Ning in ages, beyond abstractly hoping he was doing well. It might be hard, with a surname as he had, but surely there was somewhere in the cultivation world for those surnamed Wen – Wei Wuxian had argued fiercely in favor of leniency for the remaining Wen cultivators, and the Lan sect had backed him, thanks to Lan Wangji. The rest of them had been exhausted, Nie Mingjue, Lan Xichen, Jiang Cheng and his parents, even Jin Zixuan…his father had ended up volunteering their sect to help with resettlement of the refugees, which had been a pleasant surprise.

Sure, Jin Zixuan knew his father well enough to know that he was only doing it for the clout and possible advantage it would give him, but he was pretty sure the Wen civilians didn’t especially care why they were going to get a reprieve from death and a new place to live, only that they did.

“I’ll get there,” Wei Wuxian said. “It’s a bit complicated…you know how Jin Zixun’s in charge of resettlement?”

Jin Zixuan nodded, puzzled. “What about it?”

-

“You can’t do that!” one of the guards shouted at Wei Wuxian. “We’re disciples of the Jin sect –”

“Is that so,” Jin Zixuan said, and they all turned to look at him, each one of them blanching in utter horror. “And why didn’t I know that my Jin sect had such people as you?”

“Where’s Wen Ning?” Wen Qing asked Wei Wuxian, looking desperate. “I don’t see him…Where is he?!”

“That monster?” one of the guards blurted out.

“My brother is not a monster!”

“He’s been hiding in the woods,” one of the Wen civilians volunteered. “He’s been raiding the camp, rescuing people who are being abused –”

“Our response was reasonable in light of his aggression,” the guard argued. “He used demonic cultivation – he’s a monster! We had no choice –”

“We’re going to need to question them,” Jin Zixuan said to Lan Wangji, who was looking faintly murderous in his usual righteous sort of way. “To find out who’s their backing – Jin Zixun wouldn’t have dared something like this, not on his own. Can you bind them for me?”

-

It was his father.

Of course.

-

“A-Yao, what do you want?” Jin Zixuan asked, and Jin Guangyao stopped in his tracks, staring at him in confusion – as well he should, since he’d only come into Jin Zixuan’s study in order to say good morning on his way to breakfast. “No, sorry, that’s not what I meant. I meant, you know, in life.”

Jin Guangayo blinked at him.

Probably not the best question to spring on someone before breakfast, Jin Zixuan reflected.

“It’s about the trouble that my – that our father got into,” Jin Zixuan explained. “The other cultivation sects are furious to no end that he took advantage of their trust in order to do such a disgraceful thing…I’ve ordered Zixun to be confined for now, and I suspect he’ll have to be banished to some country house for a few years. And as you know, my father will be retiring soon and handing over the position of sect leader to me…”

Neither of them especially wanted that to happen, his father as loathe to give up power as Jin Zixuan was to take it. But what other solution was there after such a scandal?

The Lan sect, ever concerned with morality, had been horrified when they’d found out what had happened; the Jiang sect, despite their close relationship to the Jin sect, had immediately denounced it, and Jiang Yanli, who was Wei Wuxian’s friend, was the very first to speak. The Nie sect, never a firm ally for the Jin sect, was growling about righteousness, and if Nie Mingjue was sincere about that being his only concern – and having worked with the man, Jin Zixuan believed he was – then there were plenty of others in the Nie sect that had their eyes on the greater influence and power that would accrue to their sect if Jin Zixuan’s father were allowed to bring his sect down with him.

Handing over power was the only way to make sure their Jin sect remained strong.

“He won’t be alone, at least,” Jin Zixuan sighed. “I won him that much.”

Jiang Fengmian had agreed to step down from his position as sect leader as well, making it seem as though Jin Guangshan’s retirement were voluntary, part of a joint agreement of the older generation handing over power to the newer. Everyone would know in their hearts that that wasn’t the case, but it would be far less shameful than the alternative – saving a little bit of his father’s face.

“You did well,” Jin Guangyao said, listening with a neutral expression. “In uncovering everything, and revealing it.”

“I would’ve brought you in to help, but I couldn’t,” Jin Zixuan explained. “I know he asked you to help in finding demonic cultivators to join the Jin sect, and…”

He hesitated.

“He implicated me?” Jin Guangyao asked.

He had. Their father was shameless: he’d even sought to move all blame to Jin Guangyao’s back, whether as the actual mastermind or, when that was rejected, as the inciter of the scheme. Nonsense, of course.

Anyway, it didn’t matter. Even if Jin Guangyao had suggested it, it would have been his father’s responsibility to refuse.

“No one believes it,” Jin Zixuan said, which was only partially a lie. “Even Chifeng-zun laughed in his face and said you wouldn’t be nearly that stupid.”

Jin Guangyao looked – oddly pleased by that, if Jin Zixuan had to guess.

“Still, it’s awkward,” he said, rubbing his head. “People talk, and our subsidiary sects have never been as quiet as some others…you don’t have to tell me right now what you’re planning, or what you want in the long term. But maybe – uh – you have two sworn brothers. Is there any chance…”

“I could go visit them for a while?”

Jin Zixuan smiled helplessly. “I wish it weren’t necessary. And if you did know what you wanted, I could take it into account when planning the future…”

“No, no,” Jin Guangyao said. “Visiting my sworn brothers will be – fine.” He looked thoughtful. “You said Chifeng-zun didn’t think I was involved?”

“Zewu-jun was also vociferous in your defense,” Jin Zixuan said, trying to elide the fact that it wasn’t so much that Nie Mingjue didn’t think Jin Guangyao was capable of such atrocities, but rather that he declared, and loudly, that if Jin Guangyao had intended to do something horrific like that, he’d have handled it better. Judging by Jin Guangyao’s amused expression, he might have guessed anyway. “I appreciate your understanding.”

Jin Guangyao smiled.

Jin Zixuan thought he might even mean it, this time.

-

“I’m an uncle!” Wei Wuxian crowed, holding Jin Ling in his arms. “I’m an uncle, I’m an uncle!”

“Big deal,” Jiang Cheng grumbled, which would be more convincing if he wasn’t beaming foolishly. “So am I. Hand him over...hey, A-Ling! It's me, your jiujiu!”

“Can I be an honorary uncle?” Nie Huaisang asked – Jin Zixuan had no idea when he’d even arrived, or why he was here, or anything, really, but that was probably because he hadn’t really slept on account of over-excitement. “I mean, my brother’s sworn brothers with Jin-xiong’s brother, so it works, right?”

“That’s ridiculous –” Jiang Cheng started.

“No, I love it!” Wei Wuxian immediately declared. “That means Lan Zhan’s his uncle, too!”

“Wei Wuxian…!”

“Don’t worry,” Jin Zixuan said, hugging Jiang Cheng out of sheer excitement. “You’re his only jiujiu, right? Everyone else is related through me, so they have to share.”

Jiang Cheng seemed pleased by that, and Wei Wuxian laughed.

Nie Huaisang was calculating on his fingers. “You know,” he said thoughtfully. “This might be the most well-connected baby in the entire cultivation world? The only thing we’re missing is the Wen sect…Jiang-xiong, how about you marry Wen Qing? Then we’d have them all!”

“That is not how I’m determining my marriage!” Jiang Cheng yelped, but notably didn’t reject the idea.

Jin Zixuan looked at Jiang Yanli, who looked back at him, and they both started laughing.

There was more noise after that, and eventually Jin Ling woke up and started crying, making everyone start fussing like a bunch of old hens surrounding a long-suffering Jiang Yanli who’d already grown accustomed to it in a way the rest of them hadn’t.

It suddenly occurred to Jin Zixuan that everyone who was here was here because they wanted to be. Not because of his name or his wealth, not because he was Sect Leader Jin, not because of the circumstances of his birth, but just because they liked him – because they wanted to celebrate with him, and to cherish his child, to share his joy.

It was a good day.

All the days were a little good, but this one was especially good.

[footballffbarbiex]

Little LC.

Player: Ruben Loftus-Cheek words: 1,446 Request: Basically something that deals with you having a toddler daughter from a previous relationship and she, well you, asks him if he would like to be her dad like officially. Maybe you give him the custody papers and stuff. Warnings: single parent angst, douchebag biological father (brief), soft Ruben, pregnancy

___

“Mommy?” she’d asked one night as you were tucking her into bed. “Why doesn’t my real daddy want to know me?”

It wasn’t something you thought you’d be having to explain to her just yet. It wasn’t something you thought she would have picked up on. You’d tried to give her a loving environment and though you know that’s not why she’s asking, it still hurts. It hurts thinking you’ve not done enough for her, and it hurts knowing he hasn’t stepped up and chose not to be in her life. it hurts knowing that she’s realised he hasn't chosen to be part of her life and now thinks it’s her.

“Honestly?” you’d asked her, and she nodded, pulling the duvet up to her chin as she looked at you. You’d promised yourself those years ago that you’d never lie to her about him, but you also had no intention of poisoning her mind with your own opinion of him. ”I don't know. He never really gave me a reason.”

And that’s what had hurt you the most; knowing that you’d never been given a reason or an answer as to why he hadn’t wanted to be part of your beautiful girl’s life. He just simply hadn’t wanted to be. You’d struggled. Trying to juggle a job and a 1-year-old the best you could. Family would look after her when possible and the idea of dating anyone else was so far down your priorities that it was almost dropping off the list altogether.

Ruben was never supposed to enter the picture. Not even as someone in the background of it all and yet somehow, he’d ended up right at the front, arms wrapped around both you and your daughter and cementing himself firmly in your life. Childcare was no longer an issue, you didn’t need to work but the 16-20 hours away from the house gave you some of your identity back. Your daughter couldn’t remember a time that Ruben hadn’t been in her life, and he never looked or treat her as though she wasn’t his by DNA.

By the time you were peeing on a stick and seeing those two lines appear, and the words PREGNANT 4+ WEEKS on another, Ruben had already slipped a ring onto your finger and was preparing for life as just the three of you. He would call her “Little LC”, a nickname she adored and felt as though she was daddy’s little girl. In Ruben’s eyes, she was.

“You know, with us getting married and all, I’d love for her to have her surname changed too. To mine. To complete the family.” Ruben had confessed one evening. It had been enough to make you turn over in bed and try and peer at him in the darkness. “If that’s ok.” He added, voice dropping as though he was worried, you’d recoil in horror at the suggestion.

“You really want her to be yours, don’t you?”

“It’s not like he wants her. He doesn’t see her, pay any money towards her upbringing or send her any gifts. What difference would it make to him if she was legally mine? I’d adopt her in a heartbeat.” He’d replied. Your stomach had fluttered, and your bump had kicked out.

Ruben didn’t know about you meeting your ex. Not that it was a pleasant experience, just sitting opposite him had filled you with disgust and anger for the little girl he was leaving behind. He showed no remorse as he filled out the forms before asking, “is that it then? Am I done here?” You could have blamed it on the hormones if you’d slapped him like you wanted to in that moment, but you hadn’t wanted to make a scene or give him a reason to retaliate and instead, you collected the papers, put them back into your bag and walked out with your head held high that you were making the right decision walking away from him forever.

With everything in place, Ruben knew that you’d be having your 20-week scan today, and the chance to be able to find out the baby’s gender if you wished. Unlucky for the two of you, the appointment fell on a date when Ruben was having to leave for an away game, leaving you to attend the scan by yourself. As soon as the appointment letter came through, you booked an appointment for the following day when Ruben would be home with a private clinic. This gave you the chance to compare the scans and the sexing results.

He’d held your hand, watched as she explained everything that was visible on the screen and took it all in. The baby had grown so much since the 12-week scan, and it made you smile to see how he reacted to their growth. You’d already spoken with the technician and asked her to let you know subtly if the original gender given was right and when Ruben had pressed his shirt to his eyes to wipe away any tears, she mouthed “definitely a boy” before making Ruben wait another 5 or so minutes to break the news to him, bringing with the news a fresh round of tears.

-

Two boxes lay on the table in front of you. Your daughter and Ruben sit on one side and you, alone, on the other. Ruben had wanted a private reveal for her. He didn’t want her overwhelmed with lots of people around when she found out what kind of big sister she was going to be, but he wasn’t sure what was in the box for himself and so far, she’s managed to be quiet. Unbeknown to Ruben, she wears two tee-shirts. The one that’s visible to him right now reads “BIG SISTER TO BE”, ready for the photo that will be taken once she’s calmed down. The one beneath reads “Will you be my daddy?”

The two of you had spoken about Ruben being her “proper” daddy, and she wanted him to know that to her, he was the only one who measured up to this title in her mind. She’d looked over the papers in her child wonder, not fully understanding how a piece of paper changed anything when she’d been making Father's Day, birthday and Christmas cards and calling Ruben daddy each time, but she did understand that this made it very special.

“And you’re sure you want to do this, pumpkin?” You’d asked her before Ruben had come home tonight.

“Uh huh.” She’d nodded and replied without hesitation. “He needs to know how much I love him.” she’d spoken matter-of-factly. In a way, she was more excited to give Ruben the adoption papers than she was to find out about her sibling. She’d reacted perfectly to finding out about her baby brother, immediately wanting to help buy him clothing and toys. They’ve posed for pictures, her big wide smile as you’d all stood together, proudly showing off the baby scan, the blue balloons and small blue baby grow that took up space over your bump.

You’d set up the camera timer, knowing exactly how it worked and ensured that more than enough pictures were taken before pretending that they hadn’t.

“We’re going to have to do some more. Some didn’t take for some reason,” you pull a confused face and gesture for Ruben and LC to stand together again. With his eyes on you, he didn’t notice her remove the first shirt and stand beside him in the one bearing the all-important question. He doesn’t give it a second glance as he makes sure he’s in the right position, kneeling beside her and the two of them smiling into the camera.

It’s not until he stands up and she turns to look at him properly, doing a silly dance that grabs his full attention that he notices.

“Did you ch...” he trails off as he takes in the words. You both watch as his throat works, his eyes flicking from her to you as you stand equally as emotional. She moves to the table and pulls the box towards him, offering it to him with steady hands compared to his shaky ones. He makes quick work of the lid, fingers reaching in for the pack of papers that you’d bound together and tried to read the title, declaring the formal process of adoption with the two of their names on there before he can’t manage another word.

“Well? Do you want to be my daddy?” She asks in a quiet voice, fear now taking over her that she may be rejected by him too.

“Yeah LC, I want to be your daddy.”

_

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[sohemotional]

Breaking Girl Code

Summary: Girl Code Rule #1: Don’t fall for your best friend’s sibling. Too bad Brittany has already broken it.

Or

Rachel and Santana are sisters but they couldn’t be more opposite in personality. Much to the preppy good girl’s confusion, Rachel’s cheerleader best friend Brittany has a huge crush on the brunette’s badass older sister and will stop at nothing to get her attention.

Pairing: Santana Lopez/Brittany Pierce

Genre: Alternative Universe, Romantic Comedy

Rating: M

Read on AO3

Part I

Rachel, Brittany and Finn were a trio of the most unlikely best friends. At least that was how it seemed to the rest of the McKinley High student population.

Rachel was a complete nerd who always scored at the top of all of her classes but was an outcast when it came to her social life while Brittany was a popular, charming dumb blonde cheerleader with her head perpetually stuck in the clouds who was rumoured to be the sluttiest girl in the school. Meanwhile, Finn was the star quarterback but an innocent boy who had never had a girlfriend before and seemed more interested in food than anything else, despite the many cheerleaders who were throwing themselves at him.

No one understood what the three saw in each other but they had been fast friends ever since the start of senior year when Brittany heard a recording of Rachel’s song “My Headband” on YouTube and begged the bewildered brunette to teach her how to sing it then had introduced her close childhood friend Finn to the short girl. The rest was history.

Finn and Brittany were like two very pale, Viking giants compared to the tiny, olive-skinned brunette girl who was walking between them as the three high school seniors made their way out of class when school ended that day.

“Can we go over to your house again, Rachel?” Brittany pleaded with her as she skipped along happily beside the short girl, wearing a tight skirt that was several inches too short according to the school’s dress code. “I really need help with the chemistry homework again because last time Mrs. Hagberg didn’t believe me when I said I was up all night because Lord Tubbington was fighting a rival cat gang.”

“Sure, fine but I know the real reason why you want to come over.” Rachel pursed her lips and rolled her eyes, while slow-witted Finn strolled along beside them with his typical clueless expression as if he didn’t quite register what was happening - but that was normal for Finn. The gigantic boy just blinked slowly at Rachel but didn’t argue when she grabbed the sleeve of his flannel shirt and pulled him along with them.  

“Whatever. Your sister’s really hot so you can’t blame me.” Brittany just shrugged, unfazed by Rachel’s disapproval.

It had all started a few weeks ago when Rachel invited Brittany and Finn over to her house to hang out after school as she had been doing for a while.

The Schuester house was more like a small mansion and the blonde teen girl was in awe as always as Finn pulled into the driveway. She knew the tiny brunette was rich but she hadn’t expected all this. Rachel had explained to Finn and Brittany that when she had been adopted by Will and Emma Schuester as a thirteen year-old, she chose to keep her original first and last name, which was why she had a different surname to her parents.

Rachel was excited to have friends, as she confessed to the two athletic teens that people had never really wanted to get close to her before so they were the first people who had ever accepted her invitation to go over to her house.

The small girl led her two best and only friends over to the kitchen table, pulling out an array of Finn’s favourites: pizza pockets, chips, string cheese and other snacks to share with the two. Finn was instantly delighted at the sight of food and began to chow down without a second thought as Rachel sighed at him stuffing his face.

Brittany was more interested in something else or rather someone else who had suddenly appeared.

“Fuck, Rachel, you seriously couldn’t warn me before you brought your dumb little friends over? I just got back from the gym!”

That was when Brittany first saw her. Her sexy angel - well, maybe demon would be more accurate.

The door to the garage slammed open and a gorgeous, raven-haired Latina swaggered in, wearing nothing but tiny black boyshorts that left barely anything to the imagination and a black sports bra with a towel thrown carelessly over her shoulders. She strutted arrogantly through the kitchen, cursing under her breath.

Her brown skin was shiny with sweat and her body was impressive. Brittany’s eyes were glued on her muscular ass, sculpted abs and the toned arms that were on full display. Her arms looked like they were strong and lightly muscular.

She had full, pouty lips, chiselled high cheekbones and the darkest, most haunting eyes the blonde had ever seen, that flashed dangerously as she turned toward Rachel and the other two, her plump, sexy lips twisting into a scowl.

Brittany’s lips parted and she couldn’t take her eyes away from the stranger. Her heart raced like it never had for anyone before.

The woman swept her long, straight, glossy black hair out of her face and crossed her leanly muscular arms over her chest as she glared in Rachel’s direction.

Though she was small, maybe even a few inches shorter than Brittany herself, her body was perfectly toned and she had a powerful, commanding presence.

“Sorry, Santana,” Rachel mumbled but just rolled her eyes, bristling at Santana’s tone. “Just leave us alone. We’re doing homework. And for goodness sake, put on some clothes!”

Even her name is pretty and sexy… Brittany thought. Finn hadn’t even looked up once, finishing his fifth pizza pocket and downing a glass of milk with his potato chips in the space of a few seconds.

“Hmph. Whatever.” Santana responded, tossing back her silky hair again flippantly.

“Hi…” Brittany husked in her most seductive, breathy tone possible with a little wave, and instinctively leaned forward to display as much cleavage as she could as she stared at Santana brazenly, with the flirty, fox eyes look she had perfected.

She dropped the pen she was holding, pretending it was accidental, bent over slowly to pick it up and then snapped back up quickly, just like Elle Woods had taught her. Legally Blonde was the one film she had memorized by heart and it came in handy at times like these.

It was the same technique Brittany had used to entice the entire football team into getting it on with her and it had always worked like a charm, so she figured it was worth a shot with Santana as well.

The blonde hadn’t been able to resist flirting with the stunning woman, who was probably somewhere in her early twenties if she had to guess her age. She had always had a thing for older men and women.

Judging by the reaction Santana had, Brittany could consider her technique to be a resounding success. Santana finally noticed the blonde and did a double take, seemingly speechless and bewildered. Brittany giggled as the black-haired girl momentarily forgot her tough girl act and walked straight into the nearest wall after seeing the tall blonde then nearly fell over on her own wobbly feet.

Once she had managed to right herself, she became flustered, embarrassed by her own dorky response, then she turned around fast and took off at full speed, slamming another door upstairs rudely.

“What a scoundrel, she is. Sorry guys, that was just my jerk big sister. She’s the worst!” Rachel told them apologetically once Santana had left.

Oh… Brittany thought, Rachel never mentioned having a sister before.

The short brunette noticed that Brittany still had a dreamy expression on her face and she thought that was weird.

“Brittany! Are you even listening?”

“Your sister’s really sexy. I’m going to marry her.” That was all Brittany got out in response, in a dazed voice.

Rachel made a sound of disgust and turned to Brittany with a grimace, as if she couldn’t think of anything more appalling.

“Ew you like Santana ? Why?”

“And you don’t think it’s the least bit inappropriate for you to have fantasies about a college student?”

Rachel frowned at the blonde as she flipped through her math textbook while Brittany lay on her back lazily on the brunette’s bed, staring up at the ceiling in a lovesick daze. Rachel’s parents, Will and Emma, were away on a business trip as they usually were, so the massive house was empty and Brittany had the feeling that Rachel was glad for the company. Rachel kept her voice low just in case anyone other than Finn, who was perched on the edge of the bed silently heard them.

“Far less one who happens to be my older sister who’s a complete beast ?! Goodness, this is so weird!”

“I like beasts. She’s just really hot and I want her.” Brittany said simply, undeterred. She didn’t understand why Rachel was being so dramatic about this. There was nothing more to it.

“No offence, Brittany, but I swear, you only ever think with your…” Rachel coughed and blushed when she remembered that an actual boy was right next to them and Rachel never liked saying inappropriate things. “Lady parts.”

Brittany just giggled, not paying much attention to Rachel and her dramatics. She went back to musing about Santana’s long, dark lashes, gorgeous, flawless caramel skin and those perfectly chiseled abs.

She’d make Santana Lopez hers, no matter what it took, even if the woman herself didn’t know that yet.

“Do you have any more of those pizza pockets?” Finn suddenly spoke up, cutting through the awkward silence. “I’m kinda hungry.”

Rachel sighed and threw down her pen violently in frustration. “Again, Finn? You just ate a full meal! Does anyone here even care about getting this assignment done except me?”

“Probably not,” Brittany replied honestly, twirling a ringlet of her hair that she had curled before coming over to Rachel’s house just to make sure she looked really cute in case Santana was there to see her around her pen. “Can I pay you to do mine?”

“Of course not! For goodness sake, Brittany Susan Pierce!” Rachel sighed in exasperation, throwing up her hands. “What would your mother think?”

“Um Rachel, I’m just gonna go get some snacks from your kitchen if that’s okay…” Finn looked up at the brunette girl sheepishly, holding his stomach as it growled loudly with a guilty look on his face.  

“I like snacks. Especially Dots,” Brittany remarked absently. “Do you have Dots?”

“Okay, fine, we’ll take a break since apparently none of us can concentrate, c’mon you two.” Rachel relented, sighing as she gestured to them to follow her like she would two fluffy, very large dogs. Brittany and Finn just smiled goofily at each other as they followed her, both excited at the prospect of food, though more so Finn.

Brittany’s eyes suddenly lit up when she thought about the chance of potentially seeing that sexy woman who lived with Rachel again. “Hey, is your sister home?”

“I don’t know,” Rachel frowned, annoyed at the mention of Santana again. “She’s probably skipping class and partying as usual. ”

“Oh…” Brittany sighed, disappointed.

She was dying to hear the unmistakable hazy, deep voice of Santana again. Rachel rolled her eyes skyward, knowing exactly what Brittany was thinking about.

“Hey Rachel, are these chicken sandwiches still good?” Finn asked, though he was already chewing on a mouthful of bread. “Mm, they’re delicious.”

Rachel didn’t hear him, too busy glaring in the direction of Santana who had just arrived minutes later and was wearing much more clothes than she was last time - how unfortunate Brittany thought - this time in a black leather jacket, high-heeled boots and super tight, black jeans. Still, the clothes were really flattering on her. Brittany’s insides felt like they’d turned to jelly, her cheeks growing hot and she was suddenly a little lightheaded.

“Nice of you to waltz in before four a.m. in the morning for once, Big Sister .” Rachel pursed her lips, crossing her arms.

Santana just narrowed her dark eyes and ignored the younger girl, sticking up her middle finger at her.

Rachel shrieked in annoyance, throwing the nearest item she could find at her sister, which happened to be her heavy chemistry textbook.

Her aim was terrible and the book missed her sister by at least four feet, bouncing off of the kitchen wall instead which made Santana laugh mockingly.

Santana made no attempt to acknowledge the presence of Rachel’s company, as if they were beneath her as she went to the fridge and spent a long time searching for something. Rachel muttered something that sounded very much like, “Big Shot, thinks she’s the queen of the universe…” under her breath.

Then the raven-haired woman whipped around fast, facing the three of them with a confused expression that quickly turned to fury. Her aggressive mannerisms reminded Brittany a lot of the moody, feral black cat she had recently adopted.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, Porky?!” She demanded, rounding on a fearful Finn who swallowed nervously, backing away from her slowly. “Are you eating my food?! What the fuck!?”

“He didn’t know! Don’t yell at him!” Rachel jumped up and stood in front of the tall boy defensively, wagging a finger at Santana.  

“Why not? Your dumb loser friend ate all my food!” Santana groaned, throwing up her hands dramatically then she lowered her voice threateningly as she rounded on Rachel. “I’m going to kill you for this, Pipsqueak!”

“Stop being so dramatic!” Rachel shouted back at full volume, her voice becoming shrill. “And don’t call him a loser!”

“Dramatic? Look who’s talking. Oh I’m sorry did I insult your boyfriend , Rachie?” Santana taunted with a smirk, using the nickname she always used to annoy Rachel since they were little.

Rachel just blushed and glowered at her. Finn had a petrified expression around the two sisters, collapsing into himself and looking like he was desperate to get away from the tense situation while Brittany just rolled her eyes, studying her painted pink nails in her boredom.

Out of nervousness, Finn who had finished both sandwiches began grabbing handfuls of popcorn and shovelling them into his mouth rapidly. Santana gave the massive high schooler a withering look, shaking her head in disgust. “Jesus Christ, do you ever stop eating, Manboobs?”

“That’s it! If you don’t stop picking on my friends, I’m telling Mom and Dad!” Rachel shouted, completely losing her temper with Santana. ��

“Tell Will and Emma what? How you’re being a little brat again picking fights with me?” Santana countered, dusting off her shoulder and unfazed by Rachel’s shrieking. “They can’t do anything to me.”

“We’ll just see about that!”

As amusing as this was, Brittany had grown tired listening to them arguing, especially when Santana was wearing way too many clothes, so she decided it was time for her to cut in. What Brittany really wanted to do was score some alone time with the resident sulky bad girl in the Schuester family but she wasn’t sure how she was going to make that happen.

“Hi, I’m Brittany. Brittany S. Pierce,” The blonde purred seductively as she casually slipped in between Rachel and Santana’s bodies, fluttering her eyelashes as she met the taller sister’s gaze and ignoring Rachel who squawked behind her, bewildered by Brittany’s actions. “We met last time.”

Santana immediately became silent and then totally flustered as she noticed Brittany. A look of something like apprehension came over her as she swallowed hard at the way the leggy blonde was looking at her.

She took a step back a foot everytime Brittany came closer, putting plenty of space between them even as her cheeks tinged red.

“Um, hi!” Santana said in a much softer, more hesitant and awkward tone than the harsh, arrogant voice she had while arguing with Rachel. She was evidently alarmed by the way Brittany was looking at her even though the blonde wasn’t actually doing anything other than watching her adoringly. “I um… have to go now!”

Santana took off again quickly just like last time, leaving Brittany pouting while Rachel just shook her head in annoyance.

“She’s so weird!” Rachel groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I just don’t understand her.”

Brittany really wanted to ask Rachel if Santana was dating anyone.

It turned out she didn’t have to as they got their answer the next day when Brittany came over to Rachel’s place after school again.

There was an elegant black Porsche parked outside on the driveway and Rachel groaned when she noticed it. Brittany realized it was probably Santana’s car.

Rachel and Brittany walked closer and gasped, getting an eyeful of something neither of them had expected.

Santana was in the backseat with a tall, curvy woman with long blonde hair sitting on the darker woman’s lap and draped over her. They were making out with Santana’s tan hands running over her back then the dark-haired girl reached down to squeeze the blonde’s ass.

They were barely dressed, Santana just wearing a black bra and unzipped jeans while the woman was completely topless as Santana hitched up her pink mini skirt.

Both of the younger girls reacted at the same time but in opposite ways.

Rachel reeled back, screaming in horror and covering her eyes. Brittany simply let out a soft “Oh” , feeling rather turned on and flushed in the face, covering her mouth with her hand as she watched the scene unfold with great interest, not taking her eyes off of it.

This was much better than even the best porn she had seen.

Once Rachel was done screaming, she kept her eyes hidden with one hand, marched purposely toward the vehicle and knocked on the window loudly. “Excuse me! What on Earth do you think you’re doing on this suburban driveway?!”

As soon as Santana saw them through the car window and heard Rachel’s scream, she pulled apart quickly from the woman and got out of the car, adjusting her clothes. Brittany just gaped at her because…wow. So hot.

“Rude. The fun police have arrived. What do you want, Little Sister?” Santana just sounded annoyed rather but not remotely ashamed.

The tall, buxom blonde college girl she was with quickly fled the scene, awkwardly passing by Brittany and Rachel on her way out of the car, her lipstick completely smudged, hair askew and ignoring the contemptuous look Rachel was sending her way.

Brittany wondered how the woman managed to run so fast in those super high heels. “You’re a total cockblock as usual.”

“Good heavens! Must you be so crude?” Rachel reprimanded Santana and Brittany winced at the shrillness. The tiny girl sounded like she was on the verge of one of her signature Rachel Berry freakouts. “You’re corrupting me and my friend with your indecency! The least you could do is keep your…lady friends to the privacy of your dungeon-like bedroom instead of… fornicating with some hussy in front of innocent school girls like us.”

Santana didn’t seem to be paying any attention to Rachel’s rant. Instead, she looked over at Brittany skeptically, arching an eyebrow at the word “innocent.” Brittany just smiled at her sweetly, not even bothering to hide the fact that she was checking Santana out again blatantly the whole time.

“Yeah whatever, Pipsqueak. Just go play with your dolls or something  - I don’t need a lecture.” She muttered, adjusting her jacket and watching Brittany suspiciously with narrowed eyes, as if she knew exactly what kind of inappropriate thoughts were going through the blonde's mind.

From then on, it kept happening whenever Brittany came over, with or without Finn or one of the other girls from their class who wanted to study with them.

Santana was always with some new fling of the week and they all mostly looked the same, tall, femme and blonde. It was never the same girl twice.

To say Rachel didn’t approve would be an understatement. She was beyond fed up with her rebellious older sister and hated that she had no control over her. In fact, the more Rachel made a scene, the more Santana seemed to look for ways to outdo herself in more scandalous ways.

“It’s so wrong. She’s always… cavorting with anything that moves and never settles down with anyone.” The short brunette complained one night after school, while Rachel’s parents Will and Emma were away on some business trip.

She was lying on her stomach on the bed and going over some math equations while Brittany sat at her desk, chewing on the back of her pen as her mind drifted to Santana’s abs again, as it always seemed to instead of paying attention to her homework. “Brittany! Are you even listening to me?”

“Yeah.” Brittany replied absently, twirling a strand of her long hair. “Santana’s really hot. I should be her girlfriend if those girls don’t want to be. I’d be way better for her. I know it.”

Rachel shrieked. “Oh my goodness, have you been listening to anything I’ve been saying? My sister is a total…barbarian! She’s twenty-one years old, she’s uncouth, she smokes, she drinks, she uses foul language and she treats her lady friends like disposable objects!”

“Yeah I know, Rachel. You’re making her more of a turn on the more you talk,” Brittany sighed, biting her lip and crossing her legs as she fanned herself. “You don’t have to convince me anymore because I already like her.”

The short brunette groaned, grimacing in disgust. “I- I’m not trying to…I can’t figure out what goes on in that interesting brain of yours, Brittany. This is highly inappropriate!”

Before the blonde could respond anymore, the girls heard what sounded like a woman’s scream and a series of high-pitched shrieks.

It was late at night and the tiny brunette girl began to panic, jumping up and grabbing the nearest object, which happened to be a giant statue of Barbra Streisand from her desk.

“Oh my, Brittany…” Rachel whispered to her fearfully. “What could that be?”

The girls shivered and huddled close together, leaning up against Rachel’s bedroom door as they heard the weird noises again. It sounded like someone was being murdered.

Actually, Brittany thought it sounded more like…

Rachel took a deep breath, gathering her nerves before pushing open her door and the two girls crept into the hallway hesitantly.

They heard the continued moaning and shrieking which sounded unmistakably female. Rachel frowned when it became obvious that it was coming from Santana’s room.

“This is unbelievable. She better not be watching horror movies again so late at night.” Rachel mumbled, so much fury on her small face that it looked almost comical.

Brittany narrowed her eyes at her short friend in disbelief but she felt her own cheeks flush. Heat crept up her chest and neck to the tips of her ears.

“ Rachel, she’s probably just having sex.” She deadpanned.

“What?! Gross!” Rachel screeched, seeing a trail of bras and panties leading towards Santana’s room. She covered her ears and kicked one of the lacy bras out of her path violently. “No, she can’t be! This is so wrong! I can’t listen to this!”

Brittany couldn’t help but continue to listen in, feeling hot all over as she could easily visualize what Santana was probably up to in her room.

It was abundantly clear that Brittany’s intuition that Santana would be amazing in bed was proven to be right.

“Ugh she is just lucky Mom and Dad aren’t home tonight! Mom is going to ground her forever when she finds out about this!” Rachel fumed, practically stomping her tiny feet in her futile anger.  

Brittany was in a complete daze when Rachel finally grabbed her arm, trying to pull her away from the scene after a long moment then pouting in exasperation when the blonde girl didn’t budge. “Brittany, no! Are you just going to stand there and listen in on them all night?!”

Eventually the door slammed open when the short girl continued to screech in impossibly loud tones that only Rachel had the lung capacity to be capable of and an irritated Santana poked her head out, growling. “Rachel Berry, what the fuck are you doing?!”

“I could ask you the same thing, Santana Lopez!” Rachel shrieked back in response, hiding behind Brittany as if the blonde could protect her from Santana’s wrath and indecency. “You seriously brought a woman over? To do… that with?!”

Brittany just turned her head to the side, trying to see if Santana was wearing anything. She could see her bare shoulders but the door was blocking everything else. Damn.

“Yeah and what of it? Scram already, in case you haven’t noticed I’m a little busy with something here,” Santana smirked, putting her hand on Rachel’s head and shoving her out of the way lightly. “It’s past your bedtime, Brat.”

Then Santana noticed Brittany’s presence once again and just gave her that same dumbfounded, wary look she always seemed to get around the teen as the blonde girl never took her eyes off of her, shaking her head in exasperation at her.

Santana cursed loudly when the sheet she was holding around her chest loosened and slipped momentarily. Brittany’s eyes tracked the movement, gasping a little as she saw more of Santana’s body than she had hoped for in her wildest dreams. Brittany wasn’t disappointed in what she saw and licked her lips.

Santana noticed where Brittany was looking and pulled the sheet up quickly to cover herself.

“You- you - both of you smartass little girls - just go!” Santana yelled, slamming her door shut and locking it behind her from the inside. “Don’t fucking bother me again!”

“Language!” Rachel shouted back at her, grabbing a dazed Brittany’s hand and pulling her back towards her bedroom with its bright gold walls and stars as she began ranting to her friend in panicked tones.

“How could she want to make love with someone if she’s not married to them or in love with them?” Rachel shook her head, as if the thought alone was astounding and too depressing to imagine. “I don’t even think she’s dating that girl.”

Brittany lay on the other side of Rachel’s bed, listening to her loud snoring. She hadn’t been able to sleep that night during their sleepover, tossing and turning almost the entire time as her hormones went crazy. She spent the next few weeks fantasizing about the hot older girl.

Two months passed by quickly, with the teenagers being caught up in studying for midterms. Since Brittany and Finn were actually attempting to study for once, they didn’t spend too much time hanging out with Rachel for a long while.

Brittany breathed a sigh of relief when exam time was finally over. Studying just gave her a headache.

“Rachel, can I come over to your house after school again?” Brittany walked up to the small girl who had been having another awkward conversation with Finn, the two of them gazing at each other shyly. “We can hang around by the pool.”

Rachel beamed at her two closest friends, clasping her hands together enthusiastically. “Sure you can! I have an idea, Let’s have a movie night at my place! It’ll be so much fun! We can do a Barbra marathon!”

Brittany frowned, thinking for a moment. “Hmm, well I was supposed to go to this keg party with Quinn and the girls on our squad at some jock’s house but I mean it would probably be boring anyway. This will be way better.”

Plus, your super hot sister might be home…

Though Brittany had hooked up with a few guys since that time, they were quite mediocre and the sounds she had heard that night and the burnished, dark skin of Santana’s sculpted body still replayed themselves in her mind quite frequently whenever she was in that kind of mood. She was already thinking of ways that she could finally seduce the woman of her dreams.

They spent the afternoon relaxing in Rachel’s swimming pool, Finn still wearing a shirt the entire time to hide his pale, massive chest and trying to disguise the fact that he was sneaking glances at Rachel in the new bikini Brittany had bought her while the blonde frolicked around, splashing water at both of them.

That night, the three of them huddled together on a mattress that was set out on the floor of the massive karaoke room in the basement of the Schuester home where Rachel’s mom and dad always held parties. Rachel even had a stage set up to perform impromptu concerts with her parents because they were all into singing so much.

Brittany was in a purple polka dot nightie while Rachel was wearing pink, long sleeved silk pajamas, so it felt just like a slumber party for the girls except for Finn being there in a Power Rangers t-shirt and sweatpants.

Surprisingly, Brittany and Finn had managed to make it through two Barbra Streisand movies without being too bored even though Brittany thought they were way too long. She started braiding Rachel’s hair whenever her mind drifted.

They had switched to Dirty Dancing, another of Rachel’s favourite movies that Brittany also liked surprisingly, considering their taste was so different, when all of a sudden Santana turned up out of nowhere, making a big scene to announce her presence as usual.

She swiped popcorn from Rachel’s bowl without asking and mumbled greetings to the other two for the first time, even though she never usually acknowledged their existence.

“Oh no, what are you doing here?” Rachel hissed in annoyance, pausing the movie as she turned to Santana in anger while Finn looked terrified by Santana's presence and moved behind Rachel, as if he thought Santana was going to really kill him in revenge for the chicken sandwich incident. “I thought you weren’t supposed to be back from your cheerleading thing until Monday!”

Santana shrugged casually and smirked. “The tournament got cancelled. What are you watching?”

Rachel cringed. “You’ll just make fun of me if I tell you. Dirty Dancing.”

“Ha!” Santana snorted derisively, laughing in Rachel’s face while the short girl glared at her, cheeks burning. “Lame!”

“You’re such a bully.”

"You're such a bully!" Santana mimicked her in a high-pitched, nasally voice.

Santana hesitated in the doorway, looking like she was unsure of what to do with herself now that she had taunted Rachel about her movie taste.

Brittany thought it was endearing how the girl seemed rather shy now that she was alone with them, her cocky smirk disappearing when Rachel wasn’t looking and she didn’t walk away even though she could have at any time.

“Did you wanna hang out with us, Santana?” Brittany asked kindly, thinking that maybe Santana was too shy to admit that she wanted to hang out and wanting her to feel welcomed. “You can watch movies with us if you want.”

Santana faltered, scowling but her confident attitude dropped for a moment as she looked stunned that Brittany would talk to directly and so boldly at that. “Why would I want to watch stupid movies with a bunch of high schoolers?”

Brittany just shrugged, grabbing some M&Ms from Finn’s bowl. “Cause it’s fun and you’ll love it.”

The black-haired woman’s lips parted in shock, taken aback but then she switched to that hardened, devil may care attitude she usually kept up all the time around everyone.

“No thanks, hard pass. I have better things to do with my Friday night than hang out with my complete dork of a little sister and her little weirdo friends.” Santana sneered coldly, crossing her arms over her chest.

“Good because we don’t need your bad attitude and ego around here!” Rachel retorted, getting up to point her finger accusingly at Santana.

“Calm down, Rachel…” Finn whispered to her pleadingly, pulling her back before she lunged at her sister and another long argument between the two started.

“As if I care what you think,” Santana scoffed at Rachel. “Your movies suck and let’s face it, I’m way too cool to be here.”

“Okay, if that’s how you feel.” Brittany replied in a noncommittal tone and shrugged. She didn't really care if Santana was going to act arrogant and her harsh words didn't affect her.

The fact that Brittany showed no emotion and refused to argue with her seemed to frustrate her even more. Santana just marched off without a word, huffing in anger and the three teenagers continued to watch the rest of the movie in virtual silence.

Brittany rolled her eyes as Rachel and Finn would accidentally touch hands whenever they reached for the popcorn and then apologize awkwardly everytime.

It was more than obvious that they were into each other but both were way too innocent to ever make a move. It was hopeless and Brittany knew she needed to give Rachel some lessons on how to flirt properly sometime, but at the moment the blonde was too distracted by her own love life.

Ten minutes later, Santana returned to the basement and sat on the couch without explanation just as Brittany expected she was going to.

The older sister was grumbling under her breath the whole time, which Brittany thought made her even cuter and she had to stifle a giggle.

Rachel just shot Santana an infuriated look for a moment, not even bothering to ask what she was doing and just shook her head at her sister’s antics.

Brittany spent more time watching Santana than paying attention to the movie. She saw the way Santana’s dark eyes lit up and she smiled genuinely with the cutest dimples Brittany had ever seen deepening on her cheeks, invested during the dance performances, even though she didn’t squeal and fangirl over the movie like Rachel did. The younger sister constantly shrieked and grabbed a startled Finn whenever anything exciting happened in the movie.

“What?” Santana eventually snapped at Brittany. “Why are you staring at me?”

Finn and Rachel just turned around to see what the commotion was about.

“It’s a good movie, right?” Brittany asked. “You look like you’re enjoying it.”

“It’s old and corny.” Santana stated dismissively, pretending to inspect her nails… though by the looks of it, they were cut super short and practically non-existent.

“You take that back!” Rachel protested with an outraged gasp.

“Just not my thing, I guess,” Santana drawled casually, leaning back and drinking beer. “No need to get all worked up about it, Rachie.”  

Rachel wriggled her nose and made a disgusted sound in the back of her throat. “You’re seriously drinking alcohol? You’re not supposed to do that in this house. There are minors here, Santana, in case you haven’t noticed! You’re so irresponsible!”

“So what? I’m older so I make the rules.” Santana muttered, sticking out her tongue at her childishly.

“Mom said you’re not supposed to drink anymore!”

“What Emma doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Jesus, you need to live a little, Rachel.” Santana chuckled. “Do you ever do anything fun at all?”

Brittany jumped up from the mattress as the argument continued, bouncing onto the couch casually and scooting over until she was sitting very close to the older sister who was watching her every move suspiciously.

Santana froze then when she finally composed herself and she began to shrink away a few inches whenever Brittany attempted to lean in closer. She leaned back so far that she practically fell off the side of the couch, completely flustered by Brittany’s actions.

At least she’s not running away from me anymore… that’s progress, Brittany thought proudly.

“What do you want?” Santana eventually demanded and Brittany giggled because she was trying to sound so scary but really wasn’t.

“Can I have some of that?” Brittany asked, pointing at the beer. “I want one.”

“Brittany!” Rachel yelled in outrage. “You can’t do that here!”

“No way…” Santana moved the beer out of Brittany’s reach. “You’re what, seventeen? I’m not gonna be responsible for corrupting Rachel’s little friends.”

“I’ve been eighteen for a few months.” Brittany argued.

“Like that’s any better,” Santana snorted, mockingly. “You’re not getting any.”

“Hmph.” Brittany pouted and rested her chin in her hands as she watched the TV glumly.

Moments later, Santana swaggered upstairs and looked up at Brittany in irritation when she followed her into the kitchen. She yelped and stepped behind the kitchen table, putting plenty of space between the two of them.

“So is this like a game where you hide and then I have to find you or the other way around?” Brittany asked in a flat tone.

“W-what?” Santana sputtered.

“I think you’re hiding something.” Brittany said with a smirk as Santana watched her nervously.

“Oh yeah, what’s that?” Santana muttered, rolling her eyes.

“You’re not really as bad as you try to act and I know you wouldn’t hurt me or Rachel even though you act so tough.”

“Hmph.” Santana grunted, turning away from her.

“You really just wanted to come home and hang out with us, right?” Brittany quipped, glancing at Santana knowingly. “The cheerleading thing was just a lie to Rachel. We can be your friends if you want.”

“What? That’s…ridiculous. As if.” Santana grunted. She turned around and went up to her room, ignoring Rachel and her friends for the rest of the night because she had “better things to do,” even though Brittany knew she was miserable but her pride wouldn’t let her admit that.

To Be Continued

[hhhecates]

New Jujutsu Kaisen hc because I like to suffer and I got this idea after my sign language inumaki hc.

Okay, so... we all know that in animes there's usually that one really stoic and aloof character whose friends are complete fucking idiots and they just have to deal with them, so most of the times they are just annoyed as fuck?? (Yes, I am completely using fushiguro, nobara and itadori's friendship dynamics as a reference)

And we also know that at some point, maybe because faced with their past or because they actually risked to lose their friends, there's that one scene when the stoic character looks at their two dumbass friends arguing over something trivial and they are staring at them from the sidelines,,, and suddenly they just burst into this soft precious smile with rosy cheeks because they realize how much they care for these two idiots even if they drive them crazy?? And everyone looks back at the stoic character completely fucking baffled because what??? They had never seen them smile before and it's just so heartwarming??

But now, just consider sarcastic and annoying reader, soft spoken and polite to the point of mockery towards higher ups and loud and stubbornly undaunted when crossed. Reader is basically the pissy intj of the situation who is halfway between self-deprecating and god complex (gojo probably raised them lol, let's be real). And contrary to the stoic character, who's a little tsundere sometimes?? and who doesn't want to admit they care, intj reader just doesn't care. They don't want to. They don't know if it's worth it and are probably afraid that it's not.

Imagine them being a second year, and they're infamous because as much as you'd like to hate them (and prob a lot of people do) their "friends" really can't. Because reader is all about gratuitous sarcasm and soiled stubbornness that makes you roll your eyes, but they are also the first one to believe in Maki with everything they have got when she talks about her family history, they're the one that silence harshly the petty remarks of the Zenin whenever the most important families in Jujutsu meet, and no, it's not because they think maki can't fight her own battles, they'd never dare open their mouth to defend her because they know maki's own actions and achievements speak much louder, but they will never tolerate the Zenin's disrespect towards her.

They are the one that secretly buy books about sign language to learn it for inumaki, and before that they had an evergrowing list of his onigiri vocabulary on the noteapp of their phone. They're the ones that stay to the dorms with Panda when the others go get snacks because Panda can't really go out on their own, and reader always brushes it off by saying that they don't like going out anyways. They're the one that firstly greeted Yuuta with a half smile, tired but not forced nor fake, and called Rika a "pretty girl" because while she might have looked "just so scary", reader knew better than to dismiss the little girl still behind that "scary" appearance.

Reader is the one that exasperatedly yells at fushiguro, bite in their voice but none in their words, when they tell him that his thoughts and concerns are real and valid. They are the one that huff at itadori's sulking about sukuna and flick his forehead, then reassuring him not to have regrets for wanting to save people's lives when he ate that damn finger and that "whatever stupid thing you do, your senpais will have your back". Reader is the one that tries out new bakeries for Nobara in their free time so that she doesn't have to visit every single one in order to find Saori, and then brings her back her favourite pastries. And they're still the one that when gojo whines loudly, halfway between truly joking and self-deprecating, sigh at him and say in a joking tone "You might be standing alone as the strongest, but that doesn't mean that you always need to stand alone, you know that right?".

And it's so frustrating, because if any of the people at Jujutsu High was to be asked to describe reader, probably that would still leave every single one of them with their mouth hanging open in search of words, because they are annoyingly stubborn and loud, probably a little bit pretentious too, they're also soft and caring and attentive.

But they also know nothing more, nothing else about them. So what the fuck are they supposed to say??

Now, imagine that it all comes tumbling down one day, the elders come to Tokyo Jujutsu High to take reader with them (I imagine reader being like part of one of the main families, not the main threes, maybe a really important one just for the politics?? And the kind that just marries off their children to the three main families in exchange of retaining a high position, and like reader wasn't even born into it, they were adopted because they had like a really strong cursed technique or smth, that's why people from Jujutsu High didn't know who they were, cause they kept their old surname and basically escaped from their old life, cause fuck it, if the elders want them just to be someone's spouse, they are gonna be petty like that and become one of the best sorcerers instead).

For the first time they see reader scared out of their fucking mind, cause no, they don't want for their friends and their teacher to see them like this, to get their past thrown back at their face and drag everyone down with them. It makes them feel weak and helpless, and they fucking despise it.

But ofc no one there is gonna have any of the elders shit, gojo in the first place, and the second years too, boi they are so pissed, the first years just throw all caution towards the elders outta the window, cause they don't care.

They just refuse to hand reader over like they're not their own person.

And let's say they manage to send the elders back empty handed (for now at least, cause yes, I have more hc). But everyone if so fucking shocked??? And naturally now they see reader in a completely different light. And they treat them differently too.

And of course reader notices, how could they not, and they feel so disgusted cause they don't want their pity, they don't need it, they had spent already enough time pitying themselves.

But the thing is that they aren't acting like this out of pity, they don't pity reader, quite the opposite, they just see them as stronger. Because now they saw that reader too has weaknesses and insecurities, and all those things that reader calls disgusting and tries to hide, all those things that make reader agonizingly human. All those things that make them even more of a precious and admirable friend in everyone's eyes.

And so like, imagine that reader has closed themselves off in their dorm room, and no one is allowed in. They come out just late at night to take something to eat, but this time, they find everyone there in the kitchen/living room or whatever, and when they see reader coming all of them start stumbling on their words: the first years and their calls of "senpai! Please don't go back!" fushiguro is there too, and even maki looks worried, inumaki is weirdly serious, yūta visibly wants to speak but can't seem to find the right words and gojo sensei is there too, trying to silence everyone because of course, he is the teacher so "I need to be the first talking!".

And reader is just there, standing and watching all the people they care about the most argue and stutter. And it's a whole fucking mess, but it's okay, because reader is a bit of a mess too, and afterall who isn't?

And suddenly they all turn around to look back at reader because they be on the floor laughing their ass off at the scene, and then they stop laughing and look back at them with the biggest and yet softest smile ever.

And they take everyone's breath away, not because they had never seen reader smiling or laughing, they have, they do it plenty of times, but it's never like this. It's never this happy.

And it's in that moment that reader understands. They see it, and it's as clear as a day. They want to care. They care so fucking much. Because them, all of them, they are worth it.

.

.

.

Wheew, this turned out to be longer than expected,,, I’m so sorry shsjsksk. Also, thank you SO much for everyone who read, commented or liked my previous headcanon about inumaki knowing sign language, I really didn’t think anyone would read it, I just wrote it for shit and giggles but and now I don’t know how to respond???Also maybe I’ll be posting more of these, like a series with this reader? Yeah, I really can’t keep my mouth shut so lol.

[the-broken-truth]

The Dollmaker's Healer - Yandere Donna Benevieto x Reader (Part 1)

Memory is both a blessing & a curse - both helpful and hindering - both a miracle and a burden. You remembered how you come to be in the village - One of your late relatives passed away and bequeathed to you their Romanian Estate; you didn't even know that you were of Romanian Descent. Well - you knew your surname had a Romanian meaning but you didn't take much thought into it. Along with the estate - there were a few vaults and chests your late relative hoarded; making one of the richest residents in the village.

After meeting with the lawyer and getting your plane ticket - you traveled to Romanian's Village and was taken to your estate by a horse-pulled carriage.

The Estate was massive - tucked away in the Misty Valley with trees surrounding you; located on the edge of the cliff where the waterfall roared. The estate was about 3 stories - complete with an attic and a basement that was converted into a training room/herbal lab; that was your favorite part of the house. During your time in O/S (Orginal State), you spent a lot of your time hunting with your uncles or making salves and elixirs with your aunts from various plants; documenting the effects to know which were needed at which times.

To your uncles - you were the Bearer of the Eagle's Eye: You saw the furthest and could nail prey from as small as rabbits to as big as elk with a single arrow.

To your aunts - you were the Mistress/Master of the Gardens: Able to identify any kind of plant without fail. You got the best of both worlds and it came in handy considering that you were more attached to the wilds than civilian life.

With that memory of how you come to be here first in your mind, another come - the first time you saw the veiled woman and her puppet. You were standing on the back patio that overlooked the forest below the cliff your home sat - the fog was light this morning and you were just basking in the beauty when you looked to the side and saw another estate on the other side of the opening, sitting on the other waterfall's cliff. - it was grand but not as grand as yours. On the other estate's patio - you could see a figure, dawned in a black dress with a veil covering their face and - was that a doll upon their lap? You watched them for a while before the doll - it moved on its own, getting out the other person's lap and the two of them looked in your direction before disappearing into the estate. You thought about what the carriage driver told you - The L/N Estate was close to the House Beneviento - the current and only head of that family was Donna Beneviento, also known as the Dollmaker. You didn't think anything of it and went back inside your home to make some new healing salves you came up with.

A few months had passed since you first come to the village - you knew nothing here was normal: Lycans attacking at times, mutated wolves coming up out of nowhere, and then...there were the Daughters of the Castle - you encountered them a few times but you were able to defend yourself; sometimes leaving with a bite or a few scratches but it was never too bad.

One morning - you noticed that you were out of meat and grabbed one of the purses of Lei from the chest and put on your cloak before heading out the door. At this time - you developed of a bit of a reputation: You've used your salves for the people of the village and the sick got better, the hurt was relieved of their pain, and the restless was sleeping soundly; you made it into a bit of a business and it was very profitable. Everything was going great...until...the moment you met them.

"Excuse me. Are you Y/N L/N of L/N Estate?" A low voice called out behind you as you paid for your meat from the butcher. It was her - the veiled woman and beside her - clenching onto her dress - was the small doll you saw with her that day.

"Yes. I'm Y/N. May I ask who you are and what business you have with me?" You asked her.

"My name is Donna Beneviento - Head of House Beneviento. I came to find you because...I was hoping you could help me with my problem." Donna spoke in a low voice.

"What kind of problem?" You ask.

"It's her scar." The raspy voice of the doll called out - causing you to look at her. "She has a scar upon her face that she would love to be rid of but nothing she tried in the past seemed to have worked." The doll spoke.

"I'm guessing you're her companion? What's your name?" You asked the doll. The Doll and the Dollmaker were surprised - you weren't frightened by a talking doll?

"Angie. My name is Angie." The doll spoke. "You do no fear me?"

"At this point, I've seen a lot of things, Angie. Nothing really surprises me anymore here. So - what can you tell me about the scar?" You asked.

"It's...more of an infection caused than a common mortal wound." Donna's soft voice spoke as you stood back at your height to speak to her.

"An infection. Wait - was it caused by a Cadou?" You asked with a raised eyebrow - making both the doll and the dollmaker gasp.

"You know about the Cadou?" Angie exclaimed.

"Yes, I've dealt with a few cases of Cadou Scarring during my time here in the village. I made an elixir - while it can't get rid of the Cadou itself, it can make it so small that it gets rid of the scarring it leaves behind." You said with a smile.

"You...You can get rid of the scarring without getting rid of the Cadou? I...This is what I need - when can you do it?" Donna's voice was a bit louder - laced with hope that she could be free of the horrible scar without getting rid of the gift her mother gave to her.

"I have some vials of Cadou Represser at home; I don't feel quite comfortable allowing unknown people coming to my home but I can to yours - if you're comfortable with that. It will take 3 does - each a week apart." You explain.

"Yes - I can accept that. When can you come to House Beneviento to give me the first dosage?" Donna asked, her hands trembling with excitement.

"Once I'm done here - I dropped the food off at home, grab the vial and a fresh syringe, then meet you both at House Beneviento. Is that alright?" You ask with a tilt of your head.

"I...Yes. Please do come." Donna said as she gave a slight bow and turned on her heel before walking away with Angie at her heels. You smiled at the thought of aiding someone else with your knowledge and continued shopping - completely unaware of the smile and blush the veiled woman hid.

[A While Later]

After returning home and placing the food in the proper places - you made your way down to the Elixir Lab - that's what you liked to call it - and opened the cabinet to get a fresh bottle of Cadou Represser along with a fresh syringe - the cap securely over the needle to make more it was not contaminated by anything. You placed the two in your baggy jacket pocket before leaving your home once again. You began your journey to House Beneviento - crossing the wooden bridge that looked like it could collapse at any moment to the misty forest full of hanging dolls; you just looked at them and continued on your way until you came to a large grave surrounded by at least 20 smaller ones - looking at the gravestone of the large grave, you noticed that half of it was gone but the surname remained.

'Beneviento.' Sadness grasped your heart as you realized what you were looking at. 'Her family's massive gravesite. She really has no one besides Angie and her adoptive mother; that poor soul.'

You closed your eyes and brought your hands together in front of your chest in a praying manner - praying for the departed Beneviento Family & Donna's Happiness; no one should be as alone as she was. You finished your prayer and continued on your way - completely unaware of the porcelain eyes watching your move since you walked in the forest.

Upon arriving at the Beneviento Manor - you wanted up the wooden stairs to the door and knocked.

"Who is it?" The voice of Donna called out from behind the wood.

"It's Y/N. I'm here to do the treatment." You responded.

"Oh, please come in; the door is unlocked." Donna called out again.

You opened the door and saw Donna sitting in her wooden rocking chair near her round table; a cup of tea cooling by her side.

"Hello, Ms. Beneviento." You greeted as you made your way over to the veiled woman.

"Hello." It was simple and soft but you couldn't say anything about it.

With her permission - you lifted her veil to reveal her face and the Cadou that covered the right side of her face. Donna waited for you to utter about how horrifying she was but when she looked at your face, she saw the light blush creeping across your face. She asked if you were alright but all you said was: beautiful.

It was her turn to blush now.

No one ever called her beautiful - especially after seeing her scar. Donna felt a fluttering feeling in her stomach and warmth in her chest but she said nothing. You apologized for staring but she said it was alright; you thanked her before you gathered the supplies you brought with you and began your work. Filling the syringe with the liquid, you informed her that it would be a small stick and maybe some discomfort but it would pass in a few moments - she understood and you injected the Cadou Scar with the tip of the syringe and slowly injected the liquid until it was empty. You gathered your stuff but looked into the eye of the woman with a smile.

"I understand your reason but you really shouldn't cover your face, Lady Beneviento; you're very beautiful." You said with a smile.

"You... Do you really think I am beautiful?: Donna asked as you lightly dabbed the injection spot with an alcoholic wipe to make sure the injection site wasn't infected.

"Of course you are. You're a little different but that just adds to your beauty." You replied as your rose to your feet, gave her a polite bow before turning to leave but was stopped by her voice.

"Wait... Do you have anything else you need to be doing at this moment?" Donna asked.

"Not today. Why?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Then...would you like to stay for tea?" Donna asked as she gestured her hand to the teacup.

"I would love to." You answered.

That's how it began - ever since the treatments started: you would go over to Donna's house just to see her and Angie, the two of them seemed to lighten up whenever you came around. During the second treatment, Donna asked you about her personal life - mainly: If you had a lover at home? This made you blush and Donna looked at but annoyed but when you said you didn't have a lover, she seemed to relax. After the second treatment - the Cadou was more than half as small as it was when the treatments started. Donna would ask you to stay more and more often, even when you had other clients to tend to - she was always upset when you had work but she didn't let her emotions get too involved...until that day.

It was a few days before her last treatment - the Cadou was so small that it only covered her right eye - the two of you were sitting and drinking tea and eating lemon cake squares; you made some and thought Donna would like one so you brought some over. Donna was talking about a new doll she was working on but when you didn't engage in conversation, she looked at you and saw you were zoned off somewhere. She gained attention once again and asked you what was on your mind - you informed her you met someone in the village.

This made her drop the cup in her hand, making it crash against the teacup platter resting on the table, shattering both.

"What do you mean - you met someone?" Donna asked with a low voice.

"Well - her father was one of my clients and she was thankful for my help. I ran into her in the village a few times running errands and she and I have been hanging out." You said with a blush on your face - this angered Donna more.

"But...Why would you need to hang out with her when you have Angie and me? Are we not enough for you?" Donna almost hissed at you.

"Well, she seems nice and we have a lot in common. She wanted to take me out to dinner tomorrow - it will be like our first date." That made something in Donna snap.

"A Date? With her?" She was silent for a moment before she spoke again. "No."

"What do you mean 'no'?" You asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Just what I said - you will not date this woman. You will not see her again." Donna said.

"And just who are you to tell me who I can or cannot see? My Mother? Donna, I'm a grown (Man/Woman), I can see who I want." You protested.

"I said you're not allowed to see her again; just listen to me and leave that woman alone. All you need are Angie and I." Donna said as she rose to her feet and made her way over to the stairs but stopped when you spoke again.

"Donna, you can't tell me who to see. You don't own me." You said.

"You need to listen to me - you are not allowed to see her again; just let it go." Donna gripped the rail of the stairway.

"You know what? I think I've been here for far too long to the point you think you can tell me what to do like you own me. I think I should leave." You walked to the door and reached out for the handle when the air suddenly got heavier.

"No. Don't...Don't leave me... You can't leave me, Y/N. Please." Donna called out as she began walking over to you but you kept your distance.

"No, I need to leave. I'll see you in a few days to finish the treatment but after that - we are no longer friends, Donna." Those words made Donna's blood freeze.

"No... No. Don't say that!" Donna's face raised as she lunged forward and grasped Y/N's hand. "Please, don't leave; I need you, Y/N. You can't just leave me." Donna begged.

"Watch me." You removed her hand walked out the door, slamming it behind you.

Donna fell to her knees and hugged herself, sobbing and begging for you to come back, to hold her and tell her you wouldn't leave her.

"Don't you understand, Mommy?" Angie's voice called out. "It's that other woman, she's making them think they don't want to be with you. If she wasn't in the way - you and Y/N would be together."

"Yes... I know it's her fault." Donna clenched her head and started laughing to herself. "She wants to take them from me. My Healer, my light, my love. But I won't let her. Don't worry, Y/N; once that weed in our garden is ripped out...it will just be us....Forever."