#it took me literally a whole afternoon to get to this conclusion

[justatypicalwizard]

Not the right fit | S. Shinazugawa

✦ My piece for the autumn collab by @love-and-lore. Theme- sweater!

✦ Synopsis: Miju knits a sweater and it all goes wrong when Shinazugawa gets involved, like always!

✦ Genre: enemies to lovers, frenemies dynamic, all character are in the same friends croup, college au, self-ship

✦ Warnings: swearing

✦ Word count: 1,5k

Miju doesn't really enjoy fall. No matter how romantic, nostalgic or pretty people picture it, the only thing that she likes about fall is Halloween. Every time fall comes over the corner Miju throws herself into hobbies that will take her mind off the wet, foggy weather outside. Mostly it's crafting or preparing a halloween costume.

This fall was no different. Looking at the pile of creative materials bunched up in her closet Miju spotted a bunch of wool, white and green. It was soft and thick. What better thing to do as the air gets cold and crispy than to knit yourself a sweater. Miju went for an oversized white with green elements, otherwise it would look like a christmas tree.

Handmade stuff takes literal hours to make, believe me. For Miju it was a pain in the ass to find the right tutorial where the author would kindly not cover half the screen with their thumb. Then it was knitting itself and figuring how to make it work. Grunts and swears accompanied Miju every time she realised she made a mistake and had to start a big chunk entirely over.

Well, the time and nerves always pay off when you put the finished thing over your head, slip your arms into the piece and it fits perfectly... at least that's what it should look like. Instead Miju examined herself in the mirror comming to the horrendous conclusion that she looks like a freaking snowman, Santa Claus, like she's seven months pregnant with twins. It was too big, there was no way she could make it work anyhow without ripping the whole thing apart and starting from the begining. She was not doing that, it took her a whole month. Angry and dissapointed she threw the sweater on her chair and sat on the floor, deflated. That's what you get for not fitting it mid-process.

The next day Miju glanced at the tragic piece of work and decided not to give up on it just yet. She just has to find some fitting tutorials and how to shrink wool. Can't be that hard can it?

Nope, no, what are thole chemicals even? Did she use acrylic wool? Of course she did, shit. Miju kicked under her seat at the library, scrolling through page after page of internet tips on how to make that damn sweater work. She was frustrated and dissapointed. Just as she thought the afternoon couldn't get any worse she saw a certain someone approaching her tucked away desk. Seriously, can't you just leave people sitting in the corner alone?

A glimpse of white hair made her sigh and put on a fake smile.

"What do you want Shinazugawa?" She sighed out.

Sanemi and Miju didn't like each other, or should I say maybe hated one another? It was hard to grasp. She was more than done with his rude and simply annoying behaviour. She couldn't understand how shitty one person can be to everyone without a specific reason. Just how angry can one man be? On his end, nah, she didn't know why he despiced her just as much, maybe it bounced off of her right onto him.

They still saw each other a lot due to their shared friends group. They were kindla like frenemies, always poking at each other but never really starting any drama for the sake of the whole group. At least that's what Miju thought.

"You look like you're about to cry." Was he being sarcastic?

"I'm not. What do you want?" No sense letting him under her skin. It would be stupid to get angry over a single comment.

"The paper."

Okay, it clicked in her mind. Reaching down she fumbled through her bag, pushing the ugly sweater to the side. Finally she pulled out the file and handed it to Shinazugawa.

As much as she disliked the white haired she loved to work with him. Every university project that she had the opportunity to do with him came out great. He was intellingent, reliable and focused on his goals making him a perfect partner. Well, at least if you like to work with the devil himself.

"Something's poking out of your bag." Shinazugawa pointed down.

"It's... nothing. Anything else you need from me?" Keep it simple, keep him at a distance. That way he will neither annoy you nor feel like you don't commit to your shared work.

"What is it?" He gave the redhead woman a raised brow glance. "Just curious." He added, as if knowing he had to give her a good enough reason.

"Ah fuck it." Miju grabbed the sweater and pulled it out forcefuly. "It's an ugly sweater I've made and it's too damn big for me so I'm trying to shrink it. I've spent hours making it and I'm absolutely mad and dissapointed." She wiggled the lumping piece in front of her.

"Did you measure it mid-work?"

"No, no I didn't." Her eyes just pleaded 'leave me alone'.

"Dumbass." Shinazugawa snickered under his breath eying the sweater.

"Have you ever done anything like that? It's easy to fuck up you know. Don't laugh at me." Miju knew this was exactly what he wanted. He loved to strike at her ego and then argue with her. He must have been having a lot of fun right now.

"I'm not. It's just stupid that you don't look at what you're doing. It would take one glance to realise you're making it too big."

"Thank you for the marvelous advice, unfortunately it's already fucked up."

"Put it on and let me take a photo. My aunt's a seamstress, maybe she can make it work somehow if I send her the pic." Shinazugawa was already digging in his pocked for his phone.

"Are you serious? I'm just supposed to let you take a photo of my failure?"

"You want to wear it or throw it out?"

"Geez, okay." Maybe it won't be as bad. If that aunt really could help somehow, Miju's work wouldn't go to waste. She was grasping at straws right now.

The redhead wiggled into the sweater and stood in a T-pose while Shinazugawa took two quick photos, one of the front and one of her back.

"Since when do you have a seamstress aunt?" Miju asked while turning around and taking the sweater off.

"I don't have. Just wanted a photo of your failure."

How can anyone saw something so cruel with such a straight face?

He played a joke on her, she fell right into his trap and he was giving that sarcastic smile just now, looking at the photos.

"You know what? Have the failure all to yourself." Spating out Miju threw the whole damn sweater at Shinazugawa, grabbed her bag and pushed past him feeling too humiliated to talk to him any more. She also didn't want to admit to him that it was a well performed joke and if the tables were to turn around she would do the exact same thing.

The next day Mitsuri skipped to Miju while she was settling down for a lecture.

"You've never knitted anything for me!" The pink haired seemed upset out of nowhere.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean the sweater!"

"What sweater?"

"The one that you made for Sanemi!"

"I didn't do any sweater for Shinazu..."

That fucking prick!

"What did he tell you?" Miju went from zero to hundred in a matter of seconds, interrogating Mitsuri as if her life depended on that.

"He told us that you made him a sweater."

There was nothing more Mitsuri had to tell as Shinazugawa entered the lecture room, in her sweater. It actually fit him perfectly, just as it was supposed to fit Miju in her imagination. If not the circumstances she would say that he looked nice in it.

"That ass!" Miju whispered poking the air in his direction.

"So you didn't make him that sweater?" Mitsuri was honestly lost at this point.

Of course she didn't and she'll tell... he had the photos. He had those awful photos. Okay Shinazugawa, you win this time.

"Yes, I've made him a sweater." Miju felt bad for lying to Mitsuri.

"Why did you make him a sweater?"

"Because I felt like it." Miju was out of ideas, stuck in a corner.

"You felt like it? Oh oh! Does this mean you and Sanemi..."

"No no no! Oh god please stop with the sweater already."

"Okay." The pink haired shrugged. "I still know what I know."

The patient was dead. This was a lost case. Mitsuri now got ideas, Miju lost the sweater and Shinazgawa had a mental win over her that will sting her ass for the next month.

Throughout the lecture Miju kept looking at Shianzugawa and the sweater. He seemed to knead the hem of it's sleeve in his hand all the time. Even though heavens seemed to doom Miju today she couldn't shrug off the warm feeling. Out of all people, Sanemi himself, was wearing a sweater she made. Maybe she could think about a small revenge plan for later.

#shinazugawasanemi #demon slayer shinazugawa #demon slayer shinobu #demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #kny #demon slayer sanemi #kimetsu no yaiba sanemi #sanemi shinazugawa #college #college student #self ship #love & lore: sweater collab #love & lore: justatypicaltrash #selfship: miju x sanemi

[i2lvswft]

𝐋𝐄 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐄𝐍²

• 💌 Summary: Y/N works in fashion in Paris, once bumping into a random guy on the street, she didn't expect that she would later design Harry Styles' outfit for the Met Gala, who was literally the man she accidentally bumped into once.

• 💌 Notes: this will have more than three parts, this is just the first part. Again, I didn't have time to correct it, I have been studying these last few days. I have to apologize for not posting anything these past few days, school is killing me and I wasn't psychologically well enough to write, but here is part two.

• 💌 category: ?????

• 💌   word count: 1098 words

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・   

Her mouth opened and closed, hoping to utter a word that made sense. Calliope looked strangely at the two of you, but didn't care, she just walked over to her brown leather chair and sat there, with her legs crossed and her hands on the dark wooden table. The drawings you had made were on the table, making her nervous, could it be that Char had turned her? But there was no sense in being punished for it. "Miss Grant, I was wondering why you didn't come here in person to show these wonderful drawings."

Y/N looked at her strangely, turning her gaze to Charlotte, "I think there has been some mistake, Madam." You replied, swallowing dryly.

"I don't think so, here in the papers is explicitly your name, Miss Grant." Explained Calliope, lifting one of the sheets to show the signature there.

 Char had changed the signatures again, so that you could take credit for the drawings you had made. You snapped your fingers behind your back, trying to control your nervousness, "Y/N, this looks fantastic, Mr. Styles said he wanted to speak exclusively with you, to help you choose the best piece for the Met Gala red carpet. I know you are certainly a shy person, but that is spectacular."

"Thank you ma'am." She smiled lightly.

"I will be passing on all your errands for today and those for the next few days so that you can help Mr. Styles with anything he asks for alteration in clothing or anything." Calliope said to you, and you nodded positively. "That's all for now, Grant. You can have the whole room to yourself for those days."

You nodded, before walking away next to Char from that room. She slung her arm across your shoulders, smiling happily. "Why did you do that?" That was the first thing you asked her.

"I didn't think it was fair to do that to you, you're spectacular, Y/N, I couldn't take credit for it. When you get famous, don't forget about me." Laughed the woman.

"Never, Char." She followed her, laughing too.

A few hours later, you were already in your empty room, with only the clothing designs, with options for fabrics, accessories, and various things that could come to a good conclusion for him to wear on the red carpet. Harry took a while in Calliope's room, but, you didn't even mind, in the mean time who didn't show up, she was having fun researching more options that she could use to do it, like inspirations from Gucci's vintage pieces, something that could help. Her thoughts and research were cut off by Harry Styles, who entered the room with a big smile on his face, a lot of excitement for a Friday afternoon. "I didn't think you were you." He commented, taking a seat in the chair next to him.

"Me too, now we need to focus on what you are going to use. I have a few ideas actually." You shrugged, picking up all the drawings scattered on the table and hanging them on the board in front of you, nibbling your fingernail in nervousness you turned to him again, "Any ideas?"

"Let's face it, anything you do will be fine, so do anything, Miss Grant, I know it will be perfect." He said, watching you.

Y/N shrugged, taking a deep breath. Squirming on the table, she watched the whole thing in her field of vision, "Basic suits are out of the question, you are Harry Styles, not a dull, pathetic man." She thought out loud, pulling the drawing from there, "I like the fabric of this one, but it doesn't suit your style, it's out too." He muttered.

Minutes and minutes passed just of you trying to fit something in the middle that made sense. Frustrated, you rubbed your temples before continuing to stare at the three remaining designs. "What if... Would it be too risky?" She asked herself, turning to Harry, who, amazingly enough, was paying attention to absolutely everything, "Styles, would you mind showing your... Well, your top? At least a little?" he denied, and then you felt more relieved. "We could take the fabric from this one and put it on this one, what do you think?"

"A see-through fabric is perfect, Grant, you're right." He assured you.

And so the day went on, the two of you arguing about fabrics and accessories, late in the evening, where the clock ticked "9:43" Warning that your time to go home had passed on time, but you were so entertained in that, that you completely forgot about your personal errands. Harry didn't look tired, on the contrary, each time the two of them agreed on something, he became more excited. And when he saw her collecting her things and putting everything into a folder, he realized that it was over. You were the last to leave the establishment that night, Styles was leaving with you through the long doors of the place, his hands in his pockets while you held his bag and briefcase.

"I can... Keep your phone in case I have any ideas during the meantime? I tend to forget things when a lot of time passes" He proposed, and you just gave your personal number, not caring what he was going to do with it. "It was nice meeting you..."

"Y/N, my name is Y/N" You laughed lightly.

"It was nice meeting you, Y/N, meeting again in case." Styles smiled back, before getting into his car and making his way to his house.

You for some strange reason were feeling happy after that day at work completely unlike anything you had ever enjoyed in that place, and you couldn't be more grateful to be put in such an important job, after all, picking out Harry's clothes was a big responsibility.

#as it was #Harry Styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry fanfiction #harry fanfic #harry blurb #harry styles fanfiction #harry's house #writing #harry styles writing #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you

[poutyniall]

I would love to read your life update 💜 and I can wait as long as I have to so take your time and don't force yourself to do anything you don't have the energy to

And you also should take care of yourself as well as the time and struggle's in your life allow you to 💜

Hello darling, it took me longer than I thought to do this but here we are, let's go!

At the beginning of October, around the 10th, I went to Bologna - a 3 days trip for an event that got cancelled but whatever! - and since I don't really like the city (sorry) I spent the whole time walking in and out every bookstores and asking if they were looking for staff. But nada. Obviously. But while I was there I got a text form the owner of a home items shop I met before leaving - my cousin told me she was looking for staff and I went to her to apply - saying I had to go for a trial day the day after I returned home. So I went. The time I spent there was a thankfully short chapter, barely a month, of my life that was horrible. She is a rotten human being and a shitty employer. I had to ask her THREE times how much she was gonna pay me, after a week of work, before she answered me. The second day, in front of others people, she asked me - laughing - what I wanted to do pointing at the scars on my arm. No one, EVER, not even after months or years of knowing me, dared to ask me something about the scars but she didn't even have the decency to keep her mouth shut about such a sensitive topic. She has no respect for people, taking behind the back of her clients the second they walk out the shop, neither she has respect for the people who work for her. Like, I didn't have a second of break and I had to carry out tasks that weren't my responsibility (like going grocery shopping for her or fixing the electric socket and on) and I wan't insured and I hurt myself. I still don't know how but my toenail fell off and I almost passed out in her bloody, dusty, without a fucking window basement while taking inventory of xmas' stuff. After almost a month of work she paid me nothing, as my grandma'd say 'she'd have given me more if she'd pissed in my hands'. In conclusion, she's a horrible person and one day she'll get what she deserve.

Anyways, after three days I was working there I went to the bookstore at the mall. There's a corner in the store that is like another store and they only sell to the members. Like, you need the membership to benefit of discounts and stuff, which I have 'cause I'm a bookworm. Anyhow, I went there to buy a book and the promoter mistook me for someone else and asked me why I didn't show up for the interview and I was like 'ehm, excuse me, I would have remembered if I had an interview for a job in a bookstore but if you still need it, please tell me all about it'. She did and that's how I ended up doing two jobs till October 31st. At the bookstore in the morning and at the bitch in the afternoon. My colleague from the bookstore... she's sick. Like she's a psycho, for real. The first week I had to stick with her 'cause I needed to learn how to 'sell' the membership card. That week was a whole fat red flag. She touched me - my hair and hips - she pinched my side, right under my boobs line (I don't know if any of this make the slightest sense but please, bear with me), she sent me dozens of messages calling me baby girl, she forced her way of doing things on me, like the way she talked or explained the service to possible clients, she called me over just to stick her tongue at me and she slid into my car the first day of work. She told me, after a week of knowing me, 'I know you, you're gonna get hurt if you don't do what I say and how I say it' and 'he (our boss) is gonna do whatever I say so'. When I started to approach the firsts clients and do the first membership cards by myself she was always behind me breathing down my neck, literally. She said to our boss that my cards weren't good, only hers were valid, she made a fuss with him 'cause I didn't spent my lunch break with her and when she left (she was fired) I found out, from the other guys who work there, that she used to film them with her phone, she falsified some cards ect. She was troublesome. Before she was fired she came to me 'cause she needed to talk to me and she said 'It's not true that it bothered you when I touched you and don't think if you do everything the boss tells you you'll climb fast and have a career' and other nonsense. She follows me on ig with a fake account and she commented one of my story. Basically I have a shitty memory, I always forget books' title so, in order to avoid buying the same book twice, whenever I start a new book I make a story on ig so I always have an archive of the books I've read. The book's title I was reading was 'nobody knows about us' and you wanna know her comment? 'Is it about us?'. And my boss is not better. He sends me dozens of messages every day and calls me 2+ time when I don't answer right away. Like dude, I'm working! He gave me a smart watch just so I can read his texts all the time. I'm not gonna wear it, no fucking way. Also, it doesn't work, it came out damaged. He gave it to me a week ago and he asked me about it something like 10 times in 3 days.

The moral of the story? I think some people have suicidal instincts but are too afraid to do it themselves and that's why they come to me. They're waiting for me to lose the last grain of patience I have.

I'm sorry. I tried to make it as short as I could but it's still sooo long. Thank you, and bless you, if you got this far 💜

[llazyneiph]

(This is gonna be a little long but I wanted to talk a little about the trial since I’ve seen it and wanted to give my perspective as an abuse victim).

Amber posed for a picture with her tissue to her nose while she was testifying. There’s a video on YouTube with the clip. She sees the person with the camera, then freezes until the camera flashes, then moves the tissue from her face. She also keeps talking directly to the jury instead of to the lawyers. Not only that but when she’s sniffling, her eyes aren’t red and there are 0 tears in her eyes or on her face. When she’s recounting “painful abuse memories” there’s no pause, no hesitation, no pain in her face when “remembering”, no closing of the throat, no expression in her eyes, no sighing, nothing. When she’s talking about her relationship with him, she talks herself up to be more of a “caring savior” and tried to make him seem crazy and like he’s not in his right mind. When Johnny was testifying she looked head on at him, full eye contact. She never shook her head or reacted to his statements except to frown deeply when she was caught with evidence. When she testifies he barely looks at her and he’s mostly hunched over and having normal human reactions. Also, all of Ambers “proof” so far is of Johnny saying nice things to her and apologizing for arguments they had. She’s playing it off as if he’s violent when he says he’s sorry for “tossing insults at each other”, but of course they didn’t read that part and just read the apology and mentioned the word “rage”. When they stood up in court, she stood tall directly facing him while he was turned completely away from her and hunched over. Later she fakes a “freak out” when he is simply approaching the door where she’s standing near by because he’s trying to get out, but she doesn’t jerk away or look down or anything, she just looks like someone who’s pretending to be scared. During the beginning of the trial she wore dark colors and makeup with her hair up. As the trial went on she stopped wearing makeup, wore lighter colors like yellow and tan, and let her hair down to cover some of her face. This is a tactic people use in court to appear more innocent and timid to gain sympathy. As an abuse victim myself I find it super offensive she’s clearly trying to act like she’s got ptsd when she doesn’t have it. And she’s bad at acting. This is all text book abuser shit. It’s so gross people still think she didn’t do anything with a history of abuse under her belt. And she’s obviously a manipulator by how she’s been acting in the trial so far. There’s so much photo and audio evidence against her, and all of her “evidence” are emails where Johnny is being nice to her.

yes I saw that! and everything I've seen of her on the stand just seems so fake and over-acted. like she's reciting a dramatic monologue or something??

I don't want to get too much into my own personal life but I was recently put into a situation where I was in the same room as someone who I never thought I would (or wanted to) see again. now I'm not saying that all reactions to this type of situation are the same but they are typically very consistent. I felt like I was going to pass out, I could barely talk, I couldn't eat my meal, I was getting hot and cold flashes, it took a lot for me to even MOVE. her reactions just don't make sense to me (and every other survivor I've talked to) because they're so outlandish, so loud and over the top. and the whole staring at him while he was on the stand? again, doesn't line up with the victim thing she's going for. sure some survivors might have the strength to do that but not the cold ass stare she was giving. was giving predator vibes.

also like don't even get me started on the evidence. the photos of johnny 'passed out drunk' were literally just this dude takin a fuckin afternoon nap LMAO

all in all, I'm looking forward to the body language readers doing videos on her. they were all pretty conclusive that johnny was being truthful on the stand so i think they're gonna have a field day with her lol

[postwarlevi]

Okay can I just say I love your answer to this ask I sent you???? 😍😍 tbh I was expecting some kind of small disaster because it's Jean lol, but I love the scenario in your answer too!!!

Here's another self-ship scenario for you XD it's the weekend and you both do not have anything planned yet. While you were watching TV, Jean tells you to get dressed and he's bringing you out on a date!!! What has he planned, and how does the date go? 💜

- Rei <3 @levi-supreme

Rei! Hello! Sorry it took a minute to get back to this.

Awe thanks so much! I feel like that would actually happen and though yes, I do like to jump to conclusions, I'm usually pretty rational haha.

It IS my weekend now (5 days!!) so hmm, he knows besides going to outdoor markets or bookstores I love staying home doing nothing so, this is unexpected! It's the middle of the day and was almost nap time.

He literally tells me what to wear, he's got it picked out. Something like this! Green color, short sleeves, a bit flowy and classic, no heels he knows I'd break and ankle LOL

He's dressed nice too and I'm like 'tell me where we're going!!?!"

We're going to a fancy tea room! It's a vegetarian menu which I appreciate of course so I don't have to figure out what I can eat.

There's a never ending list of teas to try and the finger foods just keep coming! It's the most fancy we've ever been LOL

It's a nice non rushed afternoon and though there's other couples the space feels intimate and cozy. And when we're done, he leads me out back to where there's a whole botanical garden section!

It's so pretty with flowers and ponds and ducks and butterflies and the cutest little chipmunks!

It's a nice relaxing day and I accidently let it slip that "this would be a lovely place to... get married stop again sometime." I catch myself but Jean is listening :D

And he's got ooone more trick up his sleeve. While we've been out Connie and Sasha have been in our backyard setting up movie night for us!

They've got a section for snacks and popcorn and drinks and leave us to it, and even take Murphy for the night. They're such great friends! I have a feeling we're not going inside until the sun rises...

#moots #moots rei #jeliza #self ship #yes this is what i want to do today #it's perfect #thank you

[toh-tagteam-au]

So why does Belos even keep Luz around if he's stopping her from being creative, much less trust her as a high-ranking member of his coven?

Good question! Luz's initial use to Belos is that she serves as a way to keep Hunter in check: her presence, especially when she doesn't have magic or a staff, makes Hunter second guess his decisions and revise them to be more safe, and thus keeps him from being injured (we're sticking to the theory that Belos wants Hunter intact for the Day of Unity for whatever reason). Her creativity introduces an element of unpredictability to that plan, and by then it's too late to just get rid of her cleanly (she's already formed a bond with Hunter, and banishing her would make him devastated). So, she gets repressed instead.

Belos promotes her as Golden Guard with Hunter mainly to keep up that same "keep Hunter from dying on missions" plan, but she proves herself useful in other ways as well. She's charismatic and works well with her brother, plus she has loyalty to the guy who took her in when she probably would have died otherwise. He "trusts" her to not disappoint him, same as the other coven officials.

#ask #not comic #god I hate writing Belos #I have a WHOLE notes page dedicated to deciphering what his deal is #it took me literally a whole afternoon to get to this conclusion #bc yeah WHY would Belos take in some random human #when she's probably more trouble than she's worth #This is why

[redhoodssweetheart]

Welcome to My World

Genre: Soulmate AU

Pairing: Jason Todd x Gender Neutral!Reader

Requested: Yes (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED, this was for my 1.5K follower celebration)

Word Count: 1.6K

Warnings:  Swearing, slight angst, fluff

Description:  You wind up in your favorite comic book character’s world and find out that he’s your soulmate.  Jason Todd wants to know how you know his secret identity since he was in his Red Hood gear when you met, but your answer is the last thing he expected to hear. 

Hey, are you all right?

Those five words were tattooed on your inner arm, the first words your soulmate would ever speak to you.  Every time someone asked you that question you would tense up and respond waiting for their initial reaction as they realized who you were to them.  But the response never came.  The “Oh my God you’re my soulmate” never happened.  And year after year that passed you felt like maybe you would never meet them.

You found solace in comics, in the stories of heroes, and wondering what it would be like to be their soulmate.  Your favorite hero, or anti-hero you guess, would be Red Hood AKA Jason Todd.  The BatFam comics were amongst some of your favorites and you devoured fanfics written about Jason.  Silently you wished that he was your soulmate, maybe because it was easier than feeling disappointed time after time when someone else wasn’t your soulmate.

Then the strangest event occurred.  You were walking home one afternoon from your shift and there was a blinding flash of light.  At first, you had thought that maybe there had been some kind of explosion, or maybe you had died somehow and there really was a white light at the end.  Then everything was dark and when you slowly opened your eyes you realized that you weren’t home anymore.

City buildings you didn’t recognize rose around you a police car with the letter GCPD written on the side whizzed by.  Your heart felt like it had lodged itself in your throat and for a moment you thought that you really had died and maybe this was what the afterlife was like.  You took stock of everything around you looking for anything that might give you a clue as to where you were and in the distance, you noticed another tall building.

It was a stereotypical skyscraper but written on it was Wayne Enterprises.  You blinked and let out a startled laugh, “No way.  No, no, no this isn’t real.  This can’t be real.”  The possibilities that you were dreaming flitted through your mind and you scrubbed your hands over your face as if you were trying to wake yourself up.

There was no way you could be in Gotham City.

“Hey, are you all right?”  Those words.  Those damn words.

Turning your head you saw him standing there, the red mask obscuring his face, the bat emblem on his chest.  “Cool Jason Todd cosplay,” you managed to get out before your head began to swim and you began collapsing, the man before you rushing to catch you before your head could connect to the pavement.

“Shit,” he hissed.  Then he hit the button for his comms, “Alfred, I’m bringing someone to the cave… uh, well I’ll explain when I get there.”

“Understood,” came Alfred’s response.

How did you know his name, and why the hell had you thought he was cosplaying himself?  He didn’t have time for that now, and he also resisted the urge to check his arm where those very words were etched into his skin.  Whoever you were, you were his soulmate.  There was no doubting that.

He managed to get you to the cave in one piece and Alfred quickly checked you over and gave the all-clear.  “It was probably shock,” he told Jason.  “You said that they seemed confused, correct?”

Jason had his arms crossed over his chest and nodded, “Yeah, it was strange.  It was like they had no idea where they were and they thought I was cosplaying.”  He unfurled his arms and rolled up his sleep, “Whoever they are, they’re my soulmate.”

Alfred patted Jason’s shoulder, “Let’s wait until they wake up, and then we’ll get answers.”

Bruce and Dick entered the cave and saw you lying on the medical table, Jason standing over you looking pensive.  “Jason what is this?”  Bruce asked as he stepped closer to him and the stranger.

“They’re my soulmate,” Jason said calmly, his eyes still locked onto you, his mind racing.  “Found them looking lost and confused tonight, and right before they passed out they said the magic words.”

Bruce’s eyes shifted from Jason to you, “Are they all right now?”

“Alfred said that it was probably just shock,” Jason finally looked at his adoptive father.  “They knew who I was.  Or at least they thought I was cosplaying myself.”

There was a moment of silence, “I got a call from Barry, he said there was some type of disturbance.  A doorway opened between our earth and another, maybe that’s where they’re from.  Maybe there they know who you are.”

“Maybe,” Jason didn’t want to jump to conclusions.  “Anyhow I’ll get the answers we need when they wake.”

Bruce and Dick left him alone after that and he pulled a chair over to wait until you woke.

 It was several hours later and when you woke up you were still in an unfamiliar place.  You would have thought that you would have woken in your bed, proving that it had all been a dream.  But it seemed that your subconscious wasn’t done with you yet.  This time when you opened your eyes you were in a cave and then everything came crashing back down around you.

You were in Gotham.  You had seen Red Hood.  That must mean you were in the-- “Batcave, you’re in the Batcave,” the voice from earlier said, this time it wasn’t obscured by his helmet.  When you glanced to your right you saw him sitting there.  Jason Todd in the flesh.  “You and I need to have a little discussion.  Soulmate to soulmate.”

You let out a ragged breath, “You’re my soulmate?”

He pulled up his sleeve to reveal the words you had spoken to him right before passing out.  “How did you know who I was?  You asked if I was cosplaying Jason Todd specifically, not Red Hood.  How did you know?”

Of course, that would be one of his first questions.  All vigilantes were super secretive with their identities, wanting to protect themselves.  Bruce Wayne was one of the ones that was super protective of his.  “You don’t exist,” you blurted out.  “I don’t know how I got here, but where I’m from you’re a fictional character.”

Jason was quiet for a moment, “All right, let’s say I believe you on that and where you’re from I don’t exist as a living, breathing person.  How did you get here?”

“There was a flash of light,” you explained, wanting desperately for him to trust you.  “The next thing I know I’m standing on the street here in Gotham and you’re coming up to me asking me if I’m okay.  I didn’t expect any of this.  Do you know how I’m here?”

There was a moment of hesitation, “Barry Allen called, do you know who he is?”  You nodded, Barry was the Flash of course you knew that.  “He said there was an anomaly, a doorway from your earth opened and brought you here to mine.”

“So this isn’t some weird dream?  I didn’t die or anything like that?”

He chuckled, “No, there’s a scientific explanation behind it.”  He chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, “Do you want to go back to your earth?”

Did you?  

I mean you had just found your freaking soulmate.  The person you had been hoping to find since the words had appeared on your arm.  Of course, there was a catch and he belonged to a whole other earth.  And let’s not forget that he happened to be one of your favorite fictional characters of all time.

“Is it okay if I don’t know?”  You asked cautiously.

He nodded, “Yeah, it’s all right.  I know this is a lot to digest.”

You blew out a breath, “This is so not how I saw meeting my soulmate going.”

“It’s not how I saw mine going either,” he offered you a smile.  Then stood and said, “Let me formally introduce myself, I’m Jason Peter Todd, your soulmate.”

“Y/N Y/L/N,” you told him.  “It’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Y/N.”  And you swore you could have melted at the tender way he said your name.

He took you to a room in the manor where you could sleep and Alfred offered to go out and get some clothes for you since you were left wearing what you had at work.  You were grateful for them all and how friendly they were treating you despite the fact that you were a literal stranger.  Jason stayed with you and asked you questions about your earth and what he was like in the comics that you had read about him.

You talked for hours until you fell asleep beside him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You spent weeks in Gotham with Jason, learning all there was to learn about the city and its inhabitants and about your soulmate.  Jason was patient and understanding and never pressured you into telling him if you wanted to go home or not.

“Jay?”  You said one evening as the two of you were lying in bed, he was reading a book and you were on his phone playing some games.  He stopped reading and looked over at you to see what you wanted.  “I want to stay here with you, I don’t want to go home.”

The smile that he gave you nearly made your heart stop, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly, smiling back at him.  “I don’t think I could ever leave you, and it’s not because you’re my favorite character or even my soulmate.  It’s just because I love spending time with you.  I love your family and this city despite its flaws.  And I just want to stay here forever.”

He placed a finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly, “I would love nothing more than for you to stay with me.”

“Good,” you leaned forward and brushed your lips against his, feeling happiness blooming throughout you at the thought of spending the rest of your life here with Jason.

#Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x Reader fluff #Jason Todd x Reader angst #Jason Todd #Jason Todd fanfic #Jason Todd fanfiction #Jason Todd fluff #Jason Todd angst #Requested

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-One

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: as someone who is physically incapable of reading fics and other long tumblr posts line by line and word for word, i think it’s so fucking cool that a bunch of you regularly, excitedly read what i post. i would not blame you at all for skim reading. thank you.

***

The majority of Cassian’s life was spent battling with the fact of his own existence. First he was fatherless, then motherless, then homeless. Being taken in by Rhys’s parents, who bought him nice clothes and nicer gifts, was like putting a bandaid over a stab wound. It couldn’t change the questions that made up Cassian at his core: was he equal to everyone else in this world, or had he been born inherently inferior? Did he deserve the same happinesses that his friends so carelessly reaped, or should he step back and know his place?

The older he grew, the more he grappled with those questions—until the night he learned who his father was, and the truth behind his existence. That he was likely a product of rape. Nearly driving himself drunk off a mountainside in Monte Carlo was enough to make him realize with a startling clarity: he couldn’t keep asking himself the same questions for the rest of his life. At some point, he was going to have to buck the fuck up and make his peace with the world, whether he believed he deserved to be in it or not. And though it might have taken him a while to reach that conclusion, Cassian can proudly say he did it. Not long into his post-college years, Cassian finally grew up.

By twenty-seven, he was secure enough in himself and his place in the world to not have to deal with those doubtful voices every waking minute. His life was figured out, and his ego was unshakeable. Until Nesta Archeron entered the story.

Now at twenty-eight, Cassian is again unsecured—this time in a less tragic but more confusing way. Because everything he thinks he knows about himself, about life, she insists on proving wrong.

Including the issue of celebrating his birthday.

“I feel like I should have asked this earlier,” Cassian mutters to Nesta as they stand in the cozy resort lobby, “but why is Az here?”

Nesta looks both humiliated and resigned when she mutters back, “He wouldn’t pay for the resort unless I let him come with us.”

“At that point you should’ve just let me pay, babe.” He watches Azriel’s back as he chats up the lady at the front desk while getting their room keys.

“On your own birthday? It would have ruined the point,” Nesta says.

Cassian doesn’t retort that having his brother present at their couple’s retreat also ruins the point. He’s sure she already knows.

Nesta’s reaction when Cassian told her that he didn’t celebrate his birthday was unforgettable.

“No one in our inner circle really cares about birthdays,” he had shrugged. “Feyre’s birthday is the exception because she’s sort of the outsider, and Rhys will find any excuse to worship at her feet. But the rest of us? I don’t know, it was never a big deal.”

As someone who’s never skipped a birthday once in her life, even when she was isolated and ignoring her family’s phone calls, Nesta took this as a personal offense. “I need to get you out of this cabin,” she stated.

Which brings them here, to Colorado’s finest ski resort situated high in the Rocky Mountains. The lobby is littered with overstuffed armchairs and a crackling fireplace, and huge windows look out over the blinding white mountains.

Az starts heading their way, key cards in hand, when Cassian suddenly turns to Nesta. “We need to find him a woman,” he whispers.

“What?”

“We can’t let him third wheel with us for the whole weekend. We’ll never get time alone.” Cassian is set on this new plan, already scanning the lobby for women around Azriel’s age.

“I agree, but—”

Azriel reaches the two of them, tossing a room card to Nesta. “You can stop talking about me now. I’ll be spending most of my time hitting the slopes.”

Cassian and Nesta mumble a halfhearted, “We weren’t talking about you.”

He narrows his eyes at them. “Uh-huh. Just remember whose credit card this is going on.” Picking up his ski gear and duffel bag, he turns for the elevator.

Nesta frowns up at Cassian once Az is gone, more adorably than she probably intends. “Do you think he’s upset?”

He scoffs. “We should be upset at him.” He doesn’t want to have to worry about his brother while he’s on vacation, and Az definitely wouldn’t want him to worry either, but it isn’t something that can be helped.

Despite his irritation, he might go skiing with Az later this afternoon. Just to keep him company.

***

Nesta will give it to Azriel—he’s a man of fine taste, and also generous with his spending. She originally wanted a normal room for her and Cassian, preferably the cheapest one, but Az went behind her back and upgraded them to a fully decked out penthouse suite.

“This is too much for just a weekend,” she tells him over the phone while Cassian is in the bathroom. “How am I supposed to pay you back for this?”

“Why would you pay me back?” he says dismissively. “I’m rich.”

When Nesta tries arguing with him, he only replies, “I don’t take money from poor people,” and hangs up on her.

Which leaves Nesta to enjoy the four-spray shower and heated bathroom tiles free of charge. By the time she comes out of the shower, Cassian has already left with Azriel to hit some slopes before dinner, though not before leaving her a note promising to teach her how to ski tomorrow.

Nesta doesn’t even get to unwrap her towel from her body before realizing her phone is ringing incessantly, all the way from the other side of the suite. Jogging over to the living area, Nesta answers Emerie’s call. “What’s up?”

“Where are you?” Emerie greets without introduction.

“At the ski lodge?” Nesta answers, confused. “I already told you, for Cassian’s birthday.”

“I know that,” Emerie hisses. “I mean what room are you in? This place is huge.”

“Wait—you’re here?” Nesta looks quickly around herself, as if Emerie will pop up from behind the couch.

“Not just me. So is Gwyn.” Nesta hears rustling on the other side of the line, and then Emerie saying from a distance, “Answer for your crimes, Gwyneth. Say hi.”

A new, clearer voice comes over the phone. “Hiii, Nesta.” Gwyn sounds weak, like she is not having fun at all.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” Nesta demands.

“Well, it’s a long story and I need to see you first. Also, I have to pee. Where is your room?”

Five minutes later, Gwyn and Emerie are sitting obediently before the roaring fireplace in Nesta and Cassian’s suite.

Now fully dressed, Nesta stabs a finger at Emerie. “Explain.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Emerie says indignantly. “Gwyn barged into my place at eight in the morning and dragged me all the way here—”

“It was an emergency!” Gwyn tosses her hands in the air. “It still is an emergency. That’s why we’re here.”

“I’m here because Gwyn is scared of traveling alone,” Emerie interjects. “And driving on highways.”

“Guys!” Nesta snaps.

Gwyn makes a whining sound of defeat and drops her head into her hands. After a long moment, she speaks. “He asked if we could go to dinner together. Like, right to my face. And I panicked and said yes, because I couldn’t think of a reason to say no, but obviously I can’t do that. So this morning I cashed in my sick days and told him I was going on vacation for a whole week.” Gwyn looks up at Nesta with pleading teal eyes. “Please can we stay here the whole week?”

Nesta stares at Gwyn, feeling like her brain was just sucked dry. “First of all, who’s ‘he’?”

“Max!” She stands in her outburst. “The love of my life. The man who works on the fourth floor of the library. Do you pay attention to the groupchat at all?”

Oh yeah, that guy. “You came all the way here,” Nesta drawls out slowly, “so you wouldn’t have to have dinner with your crush?”

“It wasn’t just any dinner.” Gwyn flops back onto the couch. “It was a date. I can’t go on a date with him. First dates lead to second dates, and second dates lead to—sex.” She whispers the last word.

“Really?” Emerie frowns, not missing a beat at the mention of Gwyn’s deepest fear. “What kind of dates have you been having?”

“I haven’t been having any dates,” Gwyn says. “Why, how long do you usually see someone before doing it?”

“First date, at most,” Emerie shrugs.

“No,” Nesta steps in, sending Emerie a bewildered look. “Gwyn, you’ve known this guy for a while now. If he’s half as decent as you think he is, he won’t expect sex by the second date. And even if he does—”

“What does it matter?” Gwyn wails. “It’ll come up eventually. And when it does, he’ll think I’m a freak.”

“He won’t get a chance to think anything before I kill him,” Emerie says, eyes darkening.

Nesta says nothing, knowing this is something she can’t advise Gwyn about. Whether or not Gwyn chooses to share her past and unresolved trauma with another man, and whether or not that man reacts in an unshitty way isn’t something Nesta can determine. So she just states for the record, “You’re not a freak.”

“But it’s what he’ll think.”

“Then you shouldn’t be with him in the first place,” Nesta says firmly. Even though she knows better than anyone that it isn’t always that simple.

Proving her point, Gwyn scoffs and looks away. “You don’t get it.”

“What I really don’t get,” Nesta says, “is why you took your lie so literally. Why did you come all the way out here instead of hiding out at home for the week?”

“Merrill sees and knows everything. I can’t lie to her.” Gwyn cringes. “If I stayed at home, she would sniff me out as soon as she got me on the phone, and then I’d really be screwed.”

Nesta cocks her head at Gwyn, squinting her eyes in something akin to fascination.

“I had the same reaction,” Emerie pipes up. She shakes her head at Gwyn. “I’ve never met a more melodramatic idiot, truly.”

Gwyn curls into herself on the couch, looking ashamed.

Nesta sighs sharply, then whips out a hand. “Give me your wallets. I’ll go downstairs right now and see if I can book a room last minute.”

Emerie sits up at that. “Uh… I’m not sure I can afford a place like this.”

“Neither can I,” Nesta says. “That’s why Azriel paid for all of us.”

Gwyn’s eyes go comically round. “Azriel’s here?”

“Unfortunately.” She snaps her fingers at both girls. “Credit or debit, now.”

“So… I’m assuming we can’t just share this huge suite with you guys, huh?” Gwyn says hesitantly.

There might be actual flames in Nesta’s eyes. This is Cassian’s birthday, goddammit. Cassian, who hasn’t celebrated a birthday since he was eleven. “Please don’t push me.”

Gwyn and Emerie, very reluctantly, hand their cards over to Nesta. Emerie hands over two, just in case.

In the end, Nesta doesn’t use any of their money, but charges the new room to her own account. She’ll work it off by putting extra hours into Night Court, she tells herself.

When she returns to the penthouse suite, she spies tracks outlined in melted snow at the doorway. Shit. She barges inside to find Cassian and Azriel standing in the middle of the living area, with Emerie looking awkward on the couch.

“Uh, we just got back—” Cassian starts.

“I can explain,” Nesta interrupts.

A faucet turns off in the distance, and Gwyn peeks her head out of the bathroom door.

“Oh, shit,” Azriel says in delight. “Freckles is here too?”

Gwyn looks like she’s about to turn right back around to the bathroom. Nesta and Cassian both throw Az a baffled look, but Nesta says, “I can fix this. I’ve already fixed it.” She goes over to Emerie and hands her a key card. “You and Gwyn are going to stay on the first floor, and you won’t bother me or Cassian for the duration of our stay. It’ll be like you’re not even here.” She whips toward Gwyn, who still hovers near the bathroom doorway. “And at the end of this weekend, you’re going back to work like the adult you are and taking care of your shit.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gwyn says quietly, lowering her head.

Cassian comes over to Nesta, whispering, “So, you didn’t invite them to keep Az company or anything, right?”

“I can hear you,” Azriel says.

“Of course not,” Nesta whispers back. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Really? Because I thought it was kind of convenient—”

“I can still hear you,” Az repeats.

“So can I,” Emerie nods.

“Shut up,” Nesta hisses at the both of them. Grabbing Cassian’s still-gloved hand, she drags him upstairs and away to their bedroom. When the door shuts behind them, she turns to him and blurts, “I’m so sorry.”

Cassian only laughs, taking his ski jacket off and brushing away the wet snow from the back. “I’m not.” He tosses his jacket and gloves over a chair and approaches Nesta, tugging her closer by her oversized turtleneck. “And what did I tell you about wasting your apologies?”

Nesta doesn’t care. “I ruined your birthday.”

“My birthday’s not until tomorrow,” he says with a straight face. “But honestly, I like this a lot more than just you, me, and Az. At least he can’t third wheel anymore, right?”

She shakes her head insistently, frustration boiling in her blood. “Everything’s going wrong.”

“But you solved our problems.” He finds Nesta’s clenched fists and unfurls them with gentle hands. “You got the girls their own room, and now Az can be distracted with those two. We can still be alone. We win.”

Nesta purses her lips, unconvinced, when Cassian adds, “But seriously, though—what the fuck are they doing here?”

She exhales deeply, letting her head drop forward onto Cassian’s chest. “I don’t know,” she mutters. “Gwyn panicked about some personal stuff and thought it was a good idea to come to me. I don’t want to make her leave, though.” Gwyn is being stupid right now, without a doubt, but Nesta won’t abandon her. Neither will Emerie.

God, having friends sucks.

Cassian threads a hand through her loose hair and hums. “Gwyn was smart for coming to you.”

***

Dinner is held outside in the snow and cold, but everyone bundles up and sits down at a table that surrounds one of the multiple fire pits in the courtyard. Cassian convinced Nesta to let Gwyn and Emerie hang out with them for the weekend, because what else are those poor girls supposed to do, and now the women babble over each other as they decide what to drink.

Cassian sits back and takes it in, the sight feeling heartwarmingly familiar and strangely brand new at the same time. Nesta ends up being the one to order everybody’s drinks, and once the waiter scampers back inside, Gwyn releases a terse breath. “Sometimes I still get scared of that tone.”

“I’m always scared of it,” Az mutters, eyeing Nesta from the corner of his eye.

“What tone?” Cassian laughs. He knows Nesta is still a little wound up from her plans going off the rails, but she hasn’t done anything scary.

“I’m used to it,” Emerie says through a mouthful of fries, “but I think that waiter almost cried.”

“That’s how I sound all the time.” Nesta shrugs, sitting back.

“What tone?” Cassian repeats.

Nesta clicks her tongue impatiently. “You know how I talk. I’m straightforward.”

“And harsh,” Azriel adds. “Even aggressive.”

“Watch it.” Gwyn turns stern eyes onto him over the fire pit.

“I have no idea what you all are talking about,” Cassian says. He turns to Nesta. “You sound perfectly normal to me.”

She narrows her perfect brows at him, and Emerie laughs, “I don’t know if that’s romantic or ignorant.”

But now that they’re discussing it, Cassian does distinctly remember Nesta having a sharp edge to her words while they were getting to know each other. Did it disappear over time, or has he really stopped noticing it?

He doesn’t get to think about it before their drinks arrive, followed soon by a dinner of fancy sandwiches.

Cassian cuts his beef sandwich in half and gives the other half to Nesta, and she does the same with her turkey sandwich. They eat and drink around the crackling fire, laughing and talking about tomorrow’s plans (“It’s not your birthday, Azriel,” Nesta says. “Stop asking about gifts.”). Cassian and Emerie talk idly about video games over wine, and even though it isn’t really his thing, he can see her excitement over it and gladly indulges it.

Once everyone is finished eating and is slightly drunk, Gwyn pulls a small sleeve of crackers out of her puffy jacket, followed by a fun-sized Hershey’s bar and a handful of mini marshmallows.

“What are you doing?” Nesta says.

“Making dessert.” Gwyn builds a mini s’more and places it carefully on her fork so she can toast it over the fire pit. When it’s done, she leans forward even more to try to put it on Nesta’s plate. “For you. Thank you for letting me and Emerie stay.”

Nesta jumps, catching the s’more with her plate and batting Gwyn away from the fire pit at the same time. “You’ll set your hair on fire,” she hisses.

Gwyn’s hair remains safe, but now Cassian catches his brother watching Gwyn amusedly from the corner of his eye. “Can I have one?” Az says.

“I’m all out.” Gwyn says while building another s’more, refusing to meet his eyes.

Cassian and Nesta share a look, a hundred words thrown back and forth between them in that glance. She scoots her chair closer to him to slip her cold hands into his warm ones, but while the conversation carries on around the table, she leans in and whispers, “I’m not a busybody but…”

“I am,” he whispers back. “Az is being weird, weirder than usual.”

Nesta nods. “I’ve never seen him so—outgoing.”

Neither has Cassian, but before he can mention anything else, he looks up to find that Gwyn and Azriel’s seats at the table are empty. “How much did those two drink?” he breathes.

Nesta follows his gaze, seeing what he’s seeing: Azriel and Gwyn wandering clumsily around the snowy courtyard. Or rather, Az is trying to chase Gwyn down for a s’more, while she clutches her mini marshmallows to her chest and vehemently yells, “They’re mine!”

Meanwhile, Emerie is half asleep at the table.

Cassian watches as Gwyn nears the towering fir tree at the center of the courtyard and slips. Az shoots out a hand to catch her, but not before her ass hits the stone, hard. He pulls her back up, no longer fooling around, and Gwyn rubs her butt in pain.

Cassian suddenly feels Nesta squeezing the life out of his hands, and he looks over to find fury written across her face. For a heartbeat, he feels worried for Az.

“Go deal with him,” Nesta says lowly. “Before I do.”

Not needing any more words to understand, he stands out of his seat and heads out into the courtyard. He doesn’t know why Nesta thinks Gwyn needs protecting, but it makes him feel protective himself. Approaching the duo, he sees that Azriel finally acquired the leftover s’more ingredients from Gwyn.

“There’s only like half a cracker left,” Az mutters to himself, shaking the baggie.

“Is he bothering you?” Cassian asks Gwyn, who still looks grumpy over losing their skirmish.

Whipping her head to Cassian like he’s her savior, Gwyn nods furiously. “Please make him stop.”

Cassian turns to Azriel with rage in his eyes, a clear What the fuck do you think you’re doing?

But Az shakes his head in denial. “It’s not like that. Look, she’s smirking at me!” He points over Cassian’s shoulder.

When Cassian looks, Gwyn is already walking back to the fire pit, holding her bruised ass.

Az starts, “What a fake little—”

“What the hell is wrong with you?” Cassian interrupts. “Yesterday you’re crying over Elain and today you’re flirting with Nesta’s friend?”

Azriel goes serious, his face turning colder than the night air. “How do you know about Elain?” he says gruffly.

“Everyone knows, Azriel.” Cassian stares down his brother, wondering if he’ll finally get him to get his head screwed on straight after these past weeks of secretive bullshit.

Azriel sets his jaw, but a muscle there ticks.

“Will you finally at least tell me what’s going on in your head?” Cassian pleads. “Because I can’t keep guessing.”

Azriel glances toward the dinner table, as if checking to see that no one is paying attention to them. Looking back, he inhales a breath. “You want to know why I left Velaris?”

Like Nesta, Azriel is not one to quickly make himself vulnerable. So there’s no blatant emotion in his voice when he says, “I started seeing her at the end of summer, not long after she broke up with her ex. And it was so…nice after every other relationship I’ve been in has gone wrong. We kept it quiet, and because of that, it was peaceful.” Azriel’s eyes meet Cassian’s twin ones, and he smirks without humor. “But you already know what that’s like, don’t you?”

He does. Cassian crosses his arms, waiting for Az to continue.

“Anyway, we had a good run. For a long time, it was mostly just sex, but I liked her. I liked her a lot.” Az kicks at the snow-dusted cobblestones. “Then Christmas came around, and Rhys found out.” His face darkens as he remembers, and Cassian stiffens, knowing what’s next isn’t good. Sometimes Rhys forgets the boundary between boss and brother.

“He didn’t say anything about it to Elain, of course,” Azriel says. “But he dragged my ass aside and gave me this huge lecture about us using each other as rebounds. Said ‘Feyre’s sister’ deserves better or some shit. I told him there was more to it than that, but he wouldn’t listen. Instead he brought Vanserra & Co. into it, like his business matters had anything to do with me and Elain.” Azriel’s eyes crinkle at the corners in a puzzled way. “So I got to thinking, ‘why would he bring the Vanserras up?’ He made it seem like such a big deal.” The toe of his boot digs a hole into the ground.

Sympathy churns alongside anger in Cassian’s chest for Azriel’s situation, anger at Rhysand for crossing that line between brothers. He’s only momentarily grateful that Rhys never tried doing something similar to him and Nesta.

“I thought she was over that other guy, Lucien,” Az continues. “But maybe she’s not, if Rhys is so concerned about what Lucien’s stepfather thinks. Anyway, that’s why I ran. Because I knew she liked me, but I also knew she didn’t love me. I didn’t want us to cause all that trouble with Rhys just to end up backed into a corner one day, having nowhere else to go because she loves someone else and I’m just a rebound. It would be awkward for everyone involved.” He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s mostly my fault, for always chasing after women I can’t have.” He finally looks up at Cassian. “When you talk to Elain, does it sound like she hates me?” The question is quiet, straightforward.

“No,” Cassian answers, voice rough. Even if Azriel wants to hide his feelings, Cassian won’t. “She doesn’t seem like she hates you. I don’t even think she’s mad at you.” Concerned, anxious, upset—that’s Elain as far as he knows.

“She should hate me,” Azriel says. “She should get pissed, burn my old clothes, and swear to never talk to me again. That’s the only way she can move on.” Maybe even move back to Lucien, is what goes unsaid.

Cassian isn’t so sure about that. Even as he feels for Az, he thinks both of his brothers should get slapped upside the head for how they’ve been acting lately. He won’t be the one to do it, but he might get Nesta to relay a message to Elain. It’ll be the same thing. “I’m sorry,” he tells Az instead. “I know I’ve been hard on you lately. When we get home, I’ll start doing better.” He claps Az on the shoulder and squeezes.

Azriel surprises him by scoffing, looking away in disbelief. “Wow, being compassionate is really a full time job for you, huh?” He claps Cassian’s shoulder back, pulling him into a sudden hug. “You’ve already done more than enough,” he says into Cassian’s ear. “Go to your girlfriend and take a rest.”

Taken aback, Cassian nods and pulls away. He’s about to turn around and leave when Az says, “By the way, I wasn’t flirting with Gwyn.”

Cassian raises a brow. “You were definitely doing something.”

Az rolls his eyes. “I’m not giving her anything she can’t handle. But in case you haven’t noticed, I have no interest in other women right now.” He makes a face. “Especially not her.”

Cassian chuckles. “I believe you. It’s Nesta you need to worry about.”

“Whatever. I’m not scared of her.”

That makes Cassian laugh even harder, but he turns around, ready to go back to said girlfriend. As he nears the fire pit, though, he finds that Gwyn is already there and cuddled up to Nesta. On Nesta’s other side, Emerie now sits in Cassian’s chair, asleep on her friend’s shoulder. He stops in his tracks.

Cassian wasn’t lying when he told Nesta that he was happy about their changed vacation plans—he believes the more the merrier, and he loves these people. Yet he can’t help but wish the two of them could be alone for just one day. Only one.

God, sometimes having friends sucks.

***

a/n: this is a two parter so next chapter we’ll finally be getting more nessian alone time

tagging: @hellasblessed @sjm-things @thewayshedreamed @drielecarla @valkyriewarriors @superspiritfestival @aliveahaahahafuck @cupcakey00 @sayosdreams @rainbowcheetah512 @claralady @thebluemartini @nessiantho @missing-merlin @duskandstarlight @lucy617 @sleeping-and-books @everything-that-i-love @cassianscool @swankii-art-teacher @wannawriteyouabook @awesomelena555 @julemmaes @wickedqueenoffantasy @poisonous-bloom @observationanxioustheorist @gisellefigue08 @courtofjurdan @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @wolfiixxx @cass-nes @seashade @royaltykxx @illyrianundercover @queenestarcheron @monstrousloves-explodinggalaxies @humanexile @that-golden-lyre @agentsofsheilds @mercy-is-alive @cassiansbigwingspan @laylaameer01 @verypaleninja @maastrash @bow-dawn @perseusannabeth @dead-on-the-inside666 @jlinez @hungryreadingaddict @anidealiveson @planet-faerie @shallowhighwaters @ghostlyrose2 @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @rarephloxes @readiajin @nessiantrashh @live-the-fangirl-life @ifinallygavein @xoblivisci @sjmships @jungtaekwoonie-is-life @lysandra-tiara @lanyjoy-13 @frosted-crackers @post-it-notes33 @loosingdreams @fromthelibraryofemilyj @18moneytoad @dontgetsalmonella @champanheandluxxury @togreblog @arinbelle @ladygabrielli1997 @meridainthedisneyland

#ncssianwrites #a favor #nesta archeron #nessian #cassian #nessian fanfic #nessian au

[shingia]

DATING SUNA...

in honor of this smexy middle blocker’s birthday, here are MANY hcs about what i think dating suna would be like (as exhaustively as possible) bcs he’s on my mind 25/8 <3

cw : one or two suggestive stuff, mentions of food

— EARLY RELATIONSHIP

• ok so suna would definitely not waste his time dating someone if he wasn’t truly in love

• that’s why it took him a few months to ask you out because 1. he wanted to be sure of his feelings 2. he wanted to be sure of yours 3. he was scared

• he probably acted detached at first, but it was just to compensate for the fact that you had him wrapped around your finger since day 1

• he probably didn’t officially tell his friends that you were dating and just casually kissed you before for his class (lowkey enjoyed leaving without a word while everyone else was freaking out)

• nicknames came after a few weeks, when he ‘accidentally’ called you babe after asking for a kiss. yeah he is that smooth

• because it took him so many months to ask you out, you already knew each other pretty well so he felt comfortable around you very quickly

• and he tried his best to make you feel the same if you were a bit more nervous

• honestly he couldn’t wait for you two to become closer over time <3 he's a sucker for the boyfriend/bestfriend dynamic

— LOVE LANGUAGE

->| QUALITY TIME

• he cherishes every single moment you spend together, even if it’s just for a few minutes between classes

• sure, there are times where you two just hang out at his place or yours, scrolling on your phones and enjoying each other’s company. but tell him once that you want to talk to him about something and you’ll have his undivided attention

• and lemme just kdjqdhvjdmsjvh real quick : eye contact. that’s how you know he’s listening, and he always leans in just enough for you to know that he’s paying attention. no phone in sight, just you.

• he doesn’t need to take you out on fancy dates for it to be called quality time, because he values impromptu face-to-face late night conversations much more than a dinner at the restaurant.

— DATES

• your first date was one of the only dates you spent outside, it was nothing extravagant you just went for coffee after school and ended up walking through the city, holding hands for the first time

• once you guys started officially dating, you realized that at-home dates were actually more your thing. but there needs to be a difference with the rest of the time you spend at home, so you always have one or two things planned like :

• cook together an elaborate meal for once, actually put an effort in the choice of the movie/tv show you’re gonna watch (and not end up watching rick and morty for the 23rd time this week), try the most questionable face masks recipes - he loves them and doesn’t even deny it

• but i feel like you guys might go out for your anniversaries, and it’s a great opportunity for him to take really nice pictures of you and update his phone’s lockscreen (he’s a huge simp)

• your dates often take place in the evening because he loves to see your face illuminated by the city lights, and he likes to know that you might get cold because he can be smooth af and give you his jacket (most of the pictures are taken when you’re wearing it)

• i think official and ‘elaborated’ dates with suna maybe occur every two weeks because he wants them to be special and likes to look forward to them

— CUDDLES

• he gets a kick out of kissing your whole face except your lips, but really he’s just waiting for you to get frustrated and kiss him yourself

• however, if you ever don’t play along he’ll stop like “wtf you’re not supposed to do nothing”

• he’ll give you lazy and passive cuddles where you just lay on top of him, hugging him while he watches something on tv or on his phone, BUT

• if he ever wraps a blanket around you then real cuddles begin. i’m talking scalp massages, back strokes, kisses, playing with your hands...

• i just know his kisses are aphrodisiac, there’s something about the way he holds your head still with his hands that’s just UGHHH

• you could be sharing a perfectly peaceful moment together and he’ll suddenly get bored and feel an urge to tickle your sides, squish your cheeks or randomly blow in your face/ear

• but god forbid you ever do that to him, he will crush you with all his weight until you can’t move

• he also uses your hand to scratch his back because he can’t do it without writhing like a cat, not that you’d complain about seeing that one day

• you two always end up dozing and losing track of time. “we stayed like that for NINETY MINUTES?” (he’d have to find an excuse for being late at practice, because there’s no way in hell he will tell the truth in front of the twins)

• it’s very likely that you guys wake up still cuddling after nine hours of sleep. i mean it’s canon that he has a good shoulder mobility so he can keep holding you even if you’ve moved in your sleep

• his biggest struggle is morning cuddles because it’s really hard for him to get out of bed and go on with his day when he’s so comfortable in bed with you

— PDA

• i think he’d adapt to your needs, he doesn’t really mind pda

• if he ever pulls you in for a hug in public, it won’t always be a soft and sweet hug, no. sometimes it might look like a literal headlock, but he’ll give you a quick peck on the head to make up for it

• in fact the only times his hugs are sweet and lovey in public are after his matches

• if atsumu ever makes fun of him for ‘being a softie’, he’ll do the exact opposite of what’s expected of him : and by that i mean ruthlessly tongue-kiss you until tsumu begs him to stop

• he uses hugs as a way to talk shit to you about someone without them realizing it

• he doesn’t necessarily hold your hand all the time but he has affectionate gestures like giving you little pats on the head or wiping dirt off of your clothes

• pokes your cheek for no reason, and that’s daily

• he’s also a fricken tease and doesn’t have any problem with gripping your thigh when you’re sat at a table :)

— COUPLE DYNAMIC

• he tries so hard to act like you’re the clingy one but everyone knows it’s a lie

• he probably has a private story called ‘being held against my will’ where it’s just him roasting you on a daily basis

• which is a great contrast with all the albums full of pictures of you in his camera roll. like i said, he’s a MAJOR SIMP

• you also have a private story called ‘exposing the truth’ and it’s filled with stolen clichés of him being a needy and whiny little bïtch (sorry i got carried away) : it’s the twins’ main source of blackmail

• i said before that suna’s a sucker for the boyfriend/bestfriend dynamic. yeah well you guys definitely have it - you can spend entire afternoons together without once acting like a couple

• he’d give you a kidney if you ever needed one, but steal one of his fries and he’ll flip your chair over without thinking twice

•  you both think that your failed attempts at being romantic are hilarious. one time he tried to kiss you under the rain but you were so cold that you couldn’t stop your teeth from chattering and yeah it was just terrible

• the efforts you put in to embarrass each other are remarkable. you once kissed him in a supermarket and he just pulled away, yelling “MOM AND DAD SAID NOT IN PUBLIC !”

— RANDOM HCS THAT GIVE ME LIFE

• remember when i said you guys would do face masks together ? yeah well suna doesn’t own any headband which means that you have to tie his hair up in two pigtails at the front (it’s too short for one ponytail or a bun hehe)

• he has a silent laugh, the kind of laugh where he just wheezes while slapping his thighs, and he has to make a conscious effort to catch his breath

• he tugs on your sleeve whenever he wants to show you something <3

• in winter he writes messages on the frost of your car’s windows. nothing cheesy, probably something along the lines of “nice ass”

• he thinks it’s hilarious that your contact name in his phone is your full name, no emojis, nothing. he even put caps at the beginning 

• he sends you 30 tiktoks per day and expects you to answer to all of them

• he makes you playlists for the dumbest things. one of them is called ‘dentist appointment vibes’

• he likes to see you wear many layers of clothing in winter because he takes great pride in being the only one to know what’s hiding under them *wink*

• when he’s driving, he often tries to be smooth and stare at you lovingly when he’s at a red light, but he always misses the moment when it turns green and the other drivers start to furiously honk at him (another failed attempt at being romantic)

• i’m gonna be honest w/ you : he’s probably effortlessly seggsy when he drives

in conclusion : you might not be the most romantic couple, but your vibes are 𝑖𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑒 because you’re both so madly in love with each other

pspsps: here’s a link to my suna playlist that fuels my mind with thousands of scenarios 

#did i just describe my ideal relationship? yessir 🙃 #haikyuu x reader #suna rintarou #suna x reader #suna headcanons #suna fluff #suna rintaro headcanons #suna x you #suna rintarou x reader

[oreoambitions]

46 for agentreign please

Anon I'm sorry this took me a thousand years, but here you go. This gets wildly NSFW after the cut. Enjoy!

/// The first time it happens, Alex figures it's a fluke.

There are, after all, extenuating circumstances. She's not sure how many glasses of wine she's had because every time she turns around Sam has topped her off again, and maybe she should stop indulging but the wine is good and the company is better and this is the first day off off she's had for so long that it's hard not to let go a little. Kara's been keeping the showtunes coming all afternoon, a little louder than her old bluetooth speaker can really handle but it doesn't matter because Spotify is really just an excuse for Kara and Sam to sing at the top of their lungs. Alex is not participating, but she is appreciating. Appreciating because it's nice to see her sister laugh and smile like maybe things are getting better and maybe things are going to be okay. And also appreciating because, well, Sam. It's hard not to appreciate anything and everything Sam.

The activity of the afternoon is ostensibly the production of baked goods for a fundraiser related to Ruby's soccer team. Alex says 'ostensibly' because the reality is that it's been more than three hours and they haven't gotten the first batch of cookies into the oven yet. There's flour all over the floor, and she's pretty sure Kara got butter stuck to ceiling before Sam took the mixer away, but sometimes that's just the cost of a slightly raucous afternoon well spent, isn't it? And they'll have it all done in time anyway. In fact, Sam is just now finishing up the first batch of cookie dough in the confiscated kitchen aid when Alex, perhaps inebriated or perhaps just feeling emboldened by the domestic comfort of the whole affair, lunges for the beater.

This, it turns out, is either a mistake or the best decision she's ever made in her life. Her hand does contact the beater. She does come within a few seconds of pure raw cookie dough bliss. But Sam is faster, and in a flash Alex finds herself pinned between the counter and Sam's hips, one wrist wrapped up in Sam's fingers, the beater now soundly out of reach in Sam's other hand.

"Mine," Sam growls, but her eyes have dropped to Alex's mouth and for one disorienting moment Alex thinks she might be about to kiss her, thinks maybe the word 'mine' has nothing to do with the beater at all, that maybe they've crossed into some alternate dimension where there's a future for her and Sam that doesn't involve a lot of politely smiling and politely never mentioning one another's romantic entanglements or the absence thereof.

And the thing is, Alex thinks to herself, contemplating the heat of Sam's gaze and the fact that she literally cannot move beneath Sam's hips, this is... attractive. This is very attractive, in an immediate and throbbing sort of way that would be frankly embarrassing approximately half a glass of wine earlier in the afternoon. But that can't be right, because Alex doesn't like to be pushed around. Alex is the one who does the pushing. Isn't she? Sam's grip tightens around her wrist and Alex's lips part of their own accord and-

"Oh for heaven's sake," Kara says, snatching the beater out of Sam's hand. "It's mine, because you two are both being ridiculous." She rolls her eyes. "I hate being the only adult in the room."

It was a fluke. That's what Alex thinks to herself later that night when she wakes with a start from a just-dozing-off dream featuring the immovable nature of Sam's hips. They were drinking and it was a long afternoon and everyone was a little wound up and a little giddy and Alex has been single for a long time. That's it. That's all it was. That's all it has to be.

///

It's harder to write it off as a fluke the second time, but she manages.

James is in town and so it's game night. Not their monthly game night as scheduled, but an extra at-the-last-second game night, and Alex is on call. Which is fine. She can count on her fingers the number of times she's had to handle something in the middle of the night while on call for the DEO, and she's not particularly worried. But it's a problem because she can't be drinking, which means she's sober when Sam corners her in the kitchen.

It's been a long night. Not in a bad way. Just in the sense that things have been a little more risque than usual, what with Nia falling over herself trying to make it clear to Brainy that she'd like to sleep with him without actually making it clear, and Lena shooting those long smoldering looks at a characteristically oblivious Kara, and then there's Sam. Alex can't stop looking at Sam in that shirt where it sits a little too tight across the shoulders, can't stop tracing the line of that necklace to the place where it disappears just below her collar, can't stop following the meaningless movement of her fingers as she absently fiddles with a beer that wouldn't have an effect on her even if she drank the whole case. She wonders idly if it's for the aesthetic or if Sam just likes the taste of a craft IPA.

The trouble is that every time Alex catches herself looking at Sam, she also catches Sam looking at her. And so, upon dragging her eyes up once more from Sam's fingers to find Sam staring back at her, eyes dark and expression unreadable, Alex decides it's time for a drink after all. One beer won't hurt, even if the world decides to consider coming to an abrupt conclusion in the next hour or so and it turns out to be her responsibility. It's just that her mouth is suddenly dry, and the room is suddenly too loud, and she needs something to roll between her fingers the way Sam is rolling that IPA back and forth and back and forth and- Yeah. Just one beer will be fine.

She slips into the kitchen while Nia is yelling about how they should all do a TikTok together. It's quieter here, and a cool breeze through the window over the sink raises goosebumps across her arms. She pops the fridge open, pulls a beer at random, leans up against the counter. Maybe she doesn't want a drink after all. Maybe she just needs a minute.

"Aren't you on call, Ms. Danvers?"

Sam. Alex pouts. "What are you, the party police?"

Sam steps up close, takes the beer from Alex without so much as looking at it. "Aren't you the alien invader police?"

That's a dumb line and it doesn't remotely reflect Alex's actual job description, but she laughs anyway. "It's just one beer. Like 4%. I can handle it."

"I know," Sam murmurs.

Alex thinks she's forgotten how to breathe. Sam's eyes are on her mouth and those hips are pressing into her again and when Sam slips one arm around her waist and one hand into her hair a sound comes out of her that might have been a whimper. There's an inevitability to the way Sam leans in, to the way Alex's lips part as Sam tilts her head back with a firm tug. There's a moment of hesitation, a lingering, an opportunity to say no. Instead, Alex whispers, "Please."

Sam obliges. She kisses her slow, languid almost, holds her firm against the counter as she licks into her mouth and Alex is thinking that maybe she's going to come right here just letting Sam kiss her like this when Sam presses a thigh between her legs and she gasps, grinds down hard without meaning to.

Sam chuckles into her mouth, drags one hand around to her throat, traces feather light kisses along her jaw, tugs on her earlobe with her teeth. "Good girl," she whispers.

Alex isn't sure if it's the heat of Sam's breath, or the praise, or the way she's been casually immobilized, but she shudders, and Sam chuckles again, lips against her ear, and that only makes it worse.

"Fuck," Sam says. "If I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here."

Alex is pretty sure that would kill her. She's pretty sure just the thought of it is going to kill her. Just the pad of Sam's thumb dragging across her throat as she kisses her again, just the roll of those hips, that thigh pressing hard into her, that deep ache coiling tighter as Sam pulls back just far enough to meet her eyes and-

"Hey, Nia wants- Oh!" Lena stops short just inside the kitchen door. "I'll just." She plucks a bottle of wine from the counter. "Take this and tell her that you've uhm. That you're busy."

"We'll be right there," Sam says. She straightens Alex's shirt with a tug and a smirk. "Wouldn't want to miss the TikTok dance."

"Nope," Alex chokes out. "Wouldn't want to miss that."

It's a fluke. Alex takes a long shower when she gets home, and she takes care of the lingering ache that's now outlived not one but two TikTok dances, and she thinks about texting Sam. She falls asleep with her phone in her hand and if she has dreams about a tall, handsome, strong woman railing her against a kitchen counter, well. That happens sometimes. Could happen to anyone. Doesn't mean anything except that Alex has been single for probably too long . She downloads Hinge in the morning and considers explicitly mentioning in her bio that she's the one who wears the strap.

///

The Hinge profile lasts about three days. Alex scrolls through a ridiculous number of women, all of whom are... fine, before she comes to the conclusion that the problem is that none of them are Sam. She's sitting on this stupid app pedaling her stupid profile and all she wants is the woman whose attention prompted her to download a dating app in the first place. And she can't want Sam because it would never work. They're fundamentally incompatible. This bedroom ain't big enough for two tops. It's not going to happen.

But the words if I had my strap with me I'd rail you right here are as stuck in Alex's head as that Lady Gaga song Brainy won't stop playing over the speakers at the DEO. She can't stop thinking about it. Picturing it, even. Dreaming about it when her mind should be anywhere else, on anything else. And she'd just avoid Sam, just look the other way until her hormones sort themselves out, except that Sam is virtually impossible to avoid.

Kara doesn't make it any easier when she calls on Friday night to ask her about a movie night at Sam's apartment.

"Ruby's on a school trip, so it'll be just the four of us," Kara says over the phone. "I'll bring snacks, and we can order whatever you want for dinner. Please? Lena's never seen Star Wars; we have to do something."

Alex doesn't know how to say no. No, I won't come to what feels suspiciously like a double date movie night at Sam's apartment, because Sam's strap is at Sam's apartment, and I'm not sure that she isn't going to try to fuck me on the bathroom floor, and furthermore, I'm not sure that I don't want her to. Instead she says, "Any Star Wars? That's a crime. Which movie are we starting with?"

It's probably a safe bet anyway. Kara and Lena will be there the whole time; Alex and Sam will never be alone. All Alex has to do is make sure that she leaves when everyone else does and they can avoid the awkwardness altogether, and no that is definitely not anticipation she's feeling in the pit of her stomach, and she certainly does not spend an extra half an hour in bed on Saturday morning keeping herself busy with the thought of offering to stay and help clean up, of finding herself pinned against the refrigerator door while Sam takes her from behind. That absolutely does not happen because that would be ridiculous, undignified, untoplike behavior.

Alex is certainly feeling ridiculous, undignified, and untoplike standing outside Sam's door that evening, anxiously smoothing out her shirt with one hand, a case of that IPA from game night in the other. She's arrived a carefully calculated fifteen minutes late just to be absolutely sure Kara and Lena will get here first, but she didn't spot Kara's car outside, and so she isn't particularly surprised when Sam opens the door with a warm smile and welcomes her into an empty apartment.

"Kara and Lena?" she asks as Sam takes the proffered beer.

"Lena got held up at the office," Sam replies, already disappearing into the kitchen. "They're running late. An hour or so. Told them we'd wait. Do you prefer an IPA or a lager? I don't have any stouts in the fridge right now. Might be a decent sour in here somewhere."

Alex lingers in the entryway, that not-anticipation feeling thrumming through her veins. She could follow Sam to the kitchen. Kitchens do seem to be their Thing. But Sam returns with two lagers, her question unanswered, and nods her head towards the living room.

Well, now they're alone together after all and Alex is feeling awkward. She settles onto one end of the couch and tries not to read into it when Sam deposits the lagers on the coffee table and settles in next to her, legs folded under her, almost too close, instead of occupying the perfectly good cushion on the other end.

"Sam," Alex tries. They should talk about this. "We should talk about this."

"Hmm." A hint of a smirk flickers across soft lips before Sam schools her expression. "Talk about what, exactly?"

If Alex had bothered to rehearse this conversation in her mind, she still wouldn't have imagined it going this way. Her eyes drop to Sam's mouth and then she struggles to look elsewhere. The records on the shelf under the window. The blank television screen.

"I-" she starts, but the words don't want to come out. The lager on the coffee table. She doesn't reach for it. "I can't stop thinking about game night," she forces out, and then she looks back up at Sam to gauge her reaction.

Sam is smirking openly now, a hint of laughter in her eyes. She reaches out to tangle long fingers in the hair at Alex's nape, the same grip she used to pull her into a kiss just last week, and Alex's arousal is embarrassingly immediate. "Really?" Sam asks. "Game night, huh? You want to know what I can't stop thinking about?"

It's Alex's gaze that drops first, to Sam's mouth again, and this time she can't look away. "What?"

"Tonight," Sam replies, close enough that Alex's eyes flutter closed, close enough that she can almost feel Sam's answer on her lips. There's probably a coy response for this somewhere in the lesbian handbook but Alex is reaching and coming up empty. She presses a soft kiss to Sam's mouth instead and feels that anticipation - there's no denying now that it's anticipation - thrum again when Sam's tongue immediately presses into her, hot and demanding.

"What's so special about tonight," Alex mumbles as Sam kisses along her jaw to her neck.

"Mmm." Sam nips hard against Alex's pulse point, smiles into her skin when she gasps. "Well, that depends."

"On what?"

"Take your shirt off."

Alex hesitates. That isn't remotely the answer to her question, but now Sam is sucking on her neck and her capacity for rational thought is rapidly diminishing. She fumbles with the first shirt button, fingers trembling, and then the second. Three undone is enough for Sam to pull the offending garment over her head. The sports bra follows, and then Sam is tugging on Alex's hips to reposition her so that she's lying back on the couch, and Alex suddenly understands what everyone finds so attractive about kryptonians, because it's effortless the way Sam moves her. She has about a half second to be transfixed by the abs peeking out from under Sam's own blouse before Sam is kissing down her collarbone and over her breast, chuckling when Alex's hips jerk underneath her.

"You know," Sam says, "I was expecting more of a fight out of Alex But-I'm-A-Top Danvers."

Alex opens her mouth to let out a retort but Sam's tongue is working a circle around her nipple and rational thought is once again threatening to fail. "Is that what you want?" She manages, struggling to sit up. "You want a fight?"

"No." Sam pushes her back again, pins her arms over her head with one hand, brushes the fingers of the other across her ribs, frowns. "No, I like you better like this."

Alex flushes and has to remind herself not to squirm, not to look away as Sam studies her in silence, drops kisses across her shoulders, traces the lines of her hip and the inside of her thigh. And then Sam reaches under the couch for a box, the implications of which are momentarily as immobilizing as the hand still holding Alex's wrists down, because Sam planned for this, planned far enough in advance to stash supplies where they might be convenient.

Alex swallows hard when Sam's pants exit the scenario, and Sam's eyes flicker over her face as she opens the box.

"How do you feel about being strapped on the couch?" she asks.

It's such a blunt question that Alex flushes again. "Uhm. Okay?"

Sam stops with her harness halfway out. "Just okay? I'm gonna need a clear yes or-"

"Yes. God. Yes please," Alex says, flushing an even darker shade. She's going to let... this... happen, but she's not going to beg. Christ. Consent granted; please let's move on before things get awkward. Sam chuckles a little at her discomfort and presses a kiss to her brow.

"Okay. But if you want me to stop you just say the word."

Alex nods, not trusting herself to speak, eyeing Sam's fingers where they're tightening the harness. And then all at once she blurts out, "Kara and Lena could be here at any moment," which she hadn't realized might be a concern until it came out of her mouth but now she can't stop thinking about it, and how embarrassing that would be, and Kara can see through walls for heaven's sake, and-

Sam chuckles. "Baby," she says, sliding herself between Alex's legs, "You're not going to last long enough to be worried about that."

Sam is embarrassingly, excruciatingly not wrong. By the time the strap is working into her Alex is pretty sure she's wound tighter than she's ever been, and she'd crack some kind of joke about how it's clearly been too long since she's had anyone inside of her but this is really not the time. Sam is pressing inexorably deeper and it's all she can do to hold her breath because otherwise she's going to come altogether undone before they've even gotten started.

Sam gives her a moment when she's all inside, waits for Alex to exhale, waits for her nod before she starts to rock her hips, and the drag of the strap is so intense that Alex loses her breath and her self control in the same instant with a groan that only deepens Sam's smirk. Alex is kind of wishing Sam would give her back the use of her hands, but that's not in the cards. She squirms instead, hips bucking of their own accord, head thrown back hard against the cushion of the couch.

"Thought about this every night," Sam murmurs, and Alex thinks she'll say since game night but she says, "Since the day I met you," which is almost as mindblowing as the pleasure somehow, incredibly, continuing to build between Alex's hips. "Thought about how good you'd be under me."

Alex shivers at that and then comes, bucking hard into Sam to take as much of the strap as she can, half aware of Sam whispering something in her ear that might have been what a good girl you are if Alex had been cognizant enough to comprehend it. She comes back down to soft kisses across her face, and when Sam lets go of her wrists she wraps her arms around her and tries to remember how to breathe, how to pull all the pieces of herself back together, how to be a competent and capable, dignified and toplike partner.

Alex runs a hand absently through Sam's hair and hums. "Do you want me to return the favor?" she asks. She doesn't have a strap with her but, well, it's not like that was ever the best trick up her sleeve anyway. She opens her mouth to make a quip about how a good top is always prepared but Sam reaches out and casually tips an untouched lager onto her discarded shirt.

Alex splutters.

"Too late," Sam says brightly. "You'll have to ask me after dinner. Lena and Kara are here."

"Lena and Kara are what-"

And there's the knock at the door. The door not ten paces from where Alex is lying in a state of naked disarray on the couch where they are supposed to be watching Star Wars. There is a moment of absolute stillness before Alex begins to scramble for her clothes.

"Bedroom is the second door on the left," Sam says, sneaking in a last kiss while Alex reaches for the underpants peeking out from under the coffee table. "Clean shirts in closet. Do pick something nice; I've been dying to see you in my clothes."

Alex scurries down the hall in her socks quietly cursing and thanking every star in the sky. It's going to be a long night. If she's lucky.

#Alex Danvers #Sam Arias #agentreign #Ask Pile

[dinosaurtsukki]

all for a crown (fyodor x gn!reader royalty au)

summary: fyodor dostoevsky wasn't at all like the other members of the royal family. he was polite, gentle, and always remembered your name. unfortunately, you're the one who eventually finds out about his inner motives

word count: 1.7k words

contains: royalty au, assassination, mentions of death and suicide, psychological manipulation, fyodor being himself as usual

anon: *puts 100 dollar bill on table* How about Royalty!AU with Fyodor but he’s evil/planning to take over another kingdom, imagine helping him dress into royal attire as he gets ready for his coronation, ok bye I’m having too much brain rot.

a/n: i... have no words for this fic it's literally just so self-indulgent but omg i love fyodor royalty!au so much you killed me with this request anon also i hope you enjoy the last scene

even after being in his company for only a day, you could tell fyodor dostoevsky was much different from all the other members of the royal family that you had served before. you were in your fifth year of serving at the castle and had met many of them, from duchesses and dukes to even the crown prince himself. needless to say, the best interactions that you had with any of them were when they barely paid any mind to you at all.

but you didn't expect much from them either. they were royalty after all and a poor servant from a far-flung village with nothing else to achieve in life was more than beneath them. living in the servants' quarters of a castle was better than nothing though, so you kept your head down and your work efficient just to get by.

and then came the day when you were assigned to be the personal servant of the young fyodor dostoevsky.

he was the tsar's nephew and a close friend of his son, the young prince. from what your fellow servants told you, fyodor had always been a sickly child and rarely left the castle grounds. the first time you saw him, you couldn't help but notice how pale his skin was and that you could probably wrap a thumb and forefinger completely around his wrist.

but what struck you the most about fyodor were his eyes: dark violet, the color of the robes that the past kings wore in their portraits. and second, was how warm his voice sounded when they greeted you.

"good morning. you must be y/n."

...

hearing fyodor call you by name made you realize that you've haven't heard it from another person's mouth in a long time. you were almost always called with several snaps of a finger or a sharp gaze. but fyodor used your name and never raised his voice. he was polite and the way he addressed you made you dangerously forget your own place. "y/n, if you please, could you fetch my book? y/n, would you be so kind to shut the window for me? y/n, have you had anything to eat? you look famished."

and even though you were expected to wait on him hand and foot for a whole day, it was always easy to run out of things to do. fyodor spent most of his time by himself: visiting the library in the morning after breakfast, practicing the cello by himself in the afternoon, and reading a book in bed at night.

you could tell that he was in need of someone to converse with since his cousin was the only who'd visit him. when it was just you two, fyodor could talk for hours on end though you could never fully understand what he was talking about. but that didn't seem to matter since he appeared to be content that someone was listening.

he was pleasant to be around and waiting on him was the best job you've ever taken in the castle. you enjoyed waking him up in the morning and preparing his meals and even staying at his bedside when he got sick. fyodor was different from all the other nobles you've served.

you were soon going to realize just how different.

...

"y/n... you aren't supposed to be here," fyodor hummed. he sounded as if he was lightly chastising you for breaking a dish but that didn't quite register in your head.

just half an hour ago, fyodor was eating dinner with his cousin in their room. he had let you off early for the night and you were about to return to your quarters when you remembered that fyodor forgot to take his medicine. clearly, you weren't supposed to witness this scene: fyodor's cousin, the crown prince himself, slumped over the table with his wineglass still in hand, spilling red all over the white tablecloth. fyodor himself was calmly swirling the wine in his glass and studying you with those dark purple eyes that now sent shivers down your spine.

"h-his majesty, i--"

"there's nothing you can do about it now, y/n," fyodor cut you off. he didn't look at all like the kind, young man with the gentle smile anymore and you consciously backed away towards the door. of course, he could tell what you were about to do.

"i wouldn't do that if i were you, y/n," he said lowly, placing his glass on the table. "between your word and mine, whose do you think people would believe, hmm?"

a weight sank in your stomach and you felt tears forming. "p-please sir. i-i'll keep quiet, i promise. i promise," you begged.

fyodor left the table and slowly made his way towards you while you were huddled on the floor with the door pressed against your back. he could have his way with your right then and there and you squeezed your eyes shut and hoped this was all just a bad dream.

then, you felt his hand on the top of your head, gently stroking your hair. "oh y/n," fyodor sighed. "shame, i took a liking to you. i would have been content with you personally serving me if you hadn't made this little mistake."

"i'm sorry... i'm sorry," you sobbed.

"hmmm, but i do believe in second chances."

at that, you looked up slowly at fyodor whose hands were still in your hair. maybe this was what selling your soul to the devil was like. "what should i do?" you whispered.

"to begin," fyodor crouched down until he was eye level with you. "you could help me get rid of the body."

...

it was almost funny how easily fyodor framed the murder as the crown prince taking his own life. but how could you laugh when you were now under his thumb? he was right, after all. who would take your word over his?

fyodor's scheme came to a conclusion when a group of noblemen came to his room with the news that he was next in line to the throne. the tsar was sick, you assumed fyodor played a part in that, and the deceased crown prince had no younger brothers. of course, fyodor played his part effortlessly. everything from his sorrowful gaze to his deep sigh leading into "with a heavy heart, i shall take on the crown for the sake of our kingdom."

you were certain his eyes flickered to yours across the room as soon as he spoke those words.

and now, here you were, dressing fyodor for his coronation as per his request. you no longer felt safe around him, knowing he would benefit from disposing you and no one would suspect otherwise. so, why? why were you still alive?

"your hands are trembling, y/n," fyodor observed.

"i-- f-forgive me," you stammered as fyodor sighed and finished buttoning his vest himself.

"if you keep looking that nervous it won't take long for people to suspect you."

"i'll try my best," you nodded. fyodor seemed content with your answer as he gestured for his coat which you hurriedly fetched.

"just button the two in the middle, leave the rest," he ordered. you followed his instructions until finally, you were done dressing fyodor for his coronation.

the way he looked now was a far cry from the sickly, bedridden man you met months ago. his attire was made on short notice, but the seamstresses and tailors did beautiful work nonetheless. his vest was white with gold buttons and stitching. the color of his coat wasn't the usual dark red that the previous tsars had worn. 'it's out of respect for my dear cousin,' fyodor explained.

but the dark, deep purple coat with the gold stitching that matched his vest suited fyodor well. he stood tall and imposing in his black boots made of polished leather. additionally, his raven hair which often hung loose to his shoulders was tied back into a loose ponytail.

fyodor looked like he had always been born to be the crown prince. and, with the way his dark, glittering eyes admired his reflection, you could tell he knew that too.

"you did a splendid job, as always, y/n," fyodor chuckled, turning this way and that in front of the mirror.

"thank you... your grace," you bowed.

"now, now. it's just the two of us here. you can call me by my name."

"v-very well... fyodor," you answered.

"well, i mustn't let the people wait too long," fyodor sighed, eyeing the growing crowd out of the window. "i've already requested a place for you to sit in the cathedral. it's quite far but you'll have a good view of the proceedings."

"thank you, you're too kind," you whispered.

"ah, and one last thing," fyodor took your hand in his and pressed a dark green vial in it. your eyes widened as you quickly realized what it was.

"i-is this--?"

"the duke alexandrei has been suspicious of us lately," fyodor whispered, his gaze darkening. "if you can, slip it into his drink or soup later during the feast."

"but--"

"and he won't die instantly," fyodor cut you off. "this one acts slow and it will appear as if the duke has passed away from the flu."

"you want me to... poison him?" you felt your hands sweat even as they closed around the vial. fyodor gave you a long look before chuckling and patting your head, as if you were a child asking a silly question.

"one of the things i love about you is how naive you are, y/n," fyodor said. "the duke is hardly going to be the last. if you think that i'm the only one who went to such... lengths to achieve what i want, then i'm afraid you're mistaken."

with that, fyodor checked himself one last time in the mirror before walking towards the door.

if only you hadn't walked in on him that night. but then again, even being associated with a man such as fyodor was dangerous enough. you were no different from a poor little mouse who was unfortunate enough to wander into a trap.

"what makes you any different then?" you found yourself asking out loud.

"me?" fyodor paused with his hand on the door. "i'm simply one step ahead of everyone else."

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#bungou stray dogs #bsd #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x reader #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoevsky x reader #fyodor x reader #fyodor #bsd fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bungou stray dogs fic #bsd fic #bungou stray dogs one-shot #bsd one-shot #bungou stray dogs angst #bsd angst #bungou stray dogs royalty au #bsd royalty au

[animepopheart]

Wonder Egg Priority, Episode 7: The Scars to Prove It (or, Love for the Moms, the Cutters, and the Drunks)

Wonder Egg Priority (WEP) has felt like the successor to Puella Magi Madoka Magica in many ways throughout its run, but in episode seven, it almost went full Madomagi by driving the stakes to their utmost height—to the death of one of the main characters. But as has been consistent with WEP, what it did instead, after some moments of true worry, is to instead deliver hope in the face of pain, resolve against overwhelming circumstances, and strength in weakness.

The series returns to Rika Kawai’s story in this episode, which starts with her turning 14. And on her 14th birthday, after leaving her hungover mother halfway asleep at the bar she works at and which they call home, Rika opens up to the rest of the girls, explaining that she doesn’t know her father (it could be any of five possibilities, or even more) and her mom won’t reveal any further information about him. As she trashes her mom, Neiru and Momoe are incredulous, which only drives Rika away from them. And though Ai goes to comfort her, Rika is in a terrible state of mind as she enters her next fight.

This was a difficult episode to watch. They’ve all been somewhat hard since the series never shies away from brutal and violent situations impacting young people, but I found myself squirming especially here as Rika’s cutting takes center stage. At one point, she decides to cut herself and it seems certain she will, before her turtle-like partner, Mannen, prevents it from happening.

Challenging, also, is how strained Rika’s relationship is with her mother, who’s life revolves around drink—alcohol both pays the bills and helps her forget how miserable her existence is. And in the midst of all the bad behavior in this episode—the usual Rika talk, her mom’s alcoholism and neglect, and the selfishness all around, one begins to feel deeply sorrowful for the Kawai women. Yes, Rika is often obnoxious, but her family life is in shambles, and she still exhibits goodness, including a curiously gentle relationship with Mannen. And Rika’s mother is a tragic figure, used by men and quite on the road to an early death, it would seem, unable to lift herself out of the gutter as she tries, in her own sloppy way, to protect and reach out to her daughter.

It’s in this hopelessness that Rika turns again to cutting, and then finds herself tempted by something even more dangerous. Her foe this time is a religious leader who led the egg, a follower who continues to believe in him, to commit suicide as a way of “connecting” with the universe (Heaven’s Gate, anyone?). Rika decries the ghoul as a charlatan, but is confronted with her own weakness when the egg shows her own scarred arm to Rika, revealing that she can tell that the latter cuts just like she did. And then she explains that Rika can be released from this pain.

The scars, evidence of what Rika does to cope with her pain, now become the weakness that they truly are, revealing how hopeless she feels, and how powerless she is against the mechanizations of her family life. And defeated, she’s about to allow herself to be killed when a surprising savior comes along—a turtle. Mannen attacks the spiritual leader, to Rika’s surprise as well, until she remembers that he has imprinted on her. Rika is Mannen’s mom, and as he did when he prevented her from cutting, Mannen is again protecting his mother.

The conclusion that Rika reaches is unusual but inspiring. She understands, in this moment, the need to protect one’s mom, finally admitting to herself in a de facto way that maybe her mother is in need of love, too. It’s funny to consider the need that mothers have for love since culturally and socially, they’re always seen as the providers of it. But of course, they need it in return, especially when they falter. My own mother is sick right now, and I think of the support I need to give her and the lack of that I’ve provided through the years.

Warning: Screenshot involving cutting after the jump.

My mother was a good one, however. Rika’s, on the other hand, has struggled with the charge, which reminds me of a story from one of my favorite books, The Ragamuffin Gospel, about another bad parent—a far worse one, in fact, and a real one. I’ll quote part of the passage from chapter seven:

“‘Our daughter Debbie wanted a pair of earth shoes for her Christmas present. On the afternoon of December 24, my husband drove her downtown, gave her sixty dollars, and told her to buy the best pair of shoes in the store. That is exactly what she did. When she climbed back into the pickup truck her father was driving, she kissed him on the cheek and told him he was the best daddy in the whole world. Max was preening himself like a peacock and decided to celebrate on the way home. He stopped at the Cork ‘n’ Bottle–that’s a tavern a few miles from our house and told Debbie he would be right out. It was a clear and extremely cold day, about twelve degrees above zero, so Max left the motor running and locked both doors from the outside so no one could get in. It was a little after three in the afternoon and…’

Silence.

‘Yes?’

The sound of heavy breathing crossed the recreation room. Her voice grew faint. She was crying. ‘My husband met some old Army buddies in the tavern. Swept up in euphoria over the reunion, he lost track of time, purpose, and everything else. He came out of the Cork ‘n’ Bottle at midnight . He was drunk. The motor had stopped running and the car windows were frozen shut. Debbie was badly frostbitten on both ears and on her fingers. When we got her to the hospital, the doctors had to operate. They amputated the thumb and forefinger on her right hand. She will be deaf for the rest of her life.'”

Max—a real person, mind you—was a successful, well-liked man, but his drinking problem led to an unconscionable decision and profound failure as a parent. And yet, this book is about grace, an idea which to humans feels unjust, but  which has the power to change hearts and tear down walls, sometimes literally.

Could Max be given grace? Could Rika’s mother? If not directly, she’s done her own physical damage to her daughter in the form of those cutting scars (difficult and perhaps triggering images below). As mentioned earlier, the egg that she’s helping knows her pain and insists that letting go of everything, including life itself, is the way to peace. After all, to a young, suffering girl, what else could these scars mean?

But in the midst of giving up, in the moment that she actually capitulates (and this episode takes you 99% to the edge, both in the cutting scene and in the apparent death scene), Rika experiences something powerful. She experiences grace.

Have you ever been challenged to forgive someone when you don’t want to, when you feel completely in the right? Maybe it’s easy for you, but perhaps it isn’t. The girls surrounding Rika experience differing degrees of this with her sometimes maniacal and often hurtful behavior. Ai forgives easily. Momoe gets fired up and then equally seeks to make peace. And Neiru…well, Neiru holds onto “justice” more than love (setting up what I imagine will be the most powerful transformation in the series of all, in true Homura fashion). But in the moment that Rika is about to give her life, the girls yell out their love for her, even Neiru, and then more profoundly, without any hesitation, Mannen puts his own life on the line to stop the death from occurring. Rika has already given up, but this turtle hasn’t—not for his mother, whom he loves very much.

And experiencing that love from a different angle, Rika is changed just a bit. She begins to see her weakness as a “mother,” failing her turtle-child, and thinks of her own mom who is overwhelmed by hurt and a failure as well. And if just a little—for as the final scenes indicate, it is just a little—the path toward forgiveness begins.

But a little bit of grace is like a little bit of a flood—its power overwhelms, and it defeats the enemy, whether that means bitterness, a physical person (or manifestation of one), or the devil himself.

When Rika returns from the event, having killed the cult leader monster, it’s interesting to note that she isn’t a wholly different person. She’s changing little by little. And her scars remain. In fact, as she admits, she probably will cut herself again. But strangely enough, those scars now represent something different. They show someone trying—failing, yes, sometimes considerably and maybe very often—but trying, and only able to try because love was shown her, and through that, she is now able to show love as well.

You may have such scars in your life, physical or emotional, battered by the world and by people. I hope that you can develop relationships that help you heal as well, and that you’ll also remember that there are other scars which are meaningful to you, but which you cannot see on your person, scars that were borne out of a desire to heal you. Christ took the piercings, on his head, hands, feet, and side, so that while your heart and flesh may be cut, your soul need not be. And through his wounds, you may be healed.

The grace offered through Christ is one that, as he explains about everlasting water at the well to the Samaritan, for now and through eternity. The egg seeks peace forever by dying, but Jesus, unlike the cult leader, died for us so that we may not have to. He took the nails, the cross, and the spear so that we don’t have to inflict pain on ourselves and receive the punishment of our actions against him and others. He is our scar.

That’s grace. That’s the power that it has. And it can reach anyone—even a terrible dad, an alcoholic mom, a tempestuous child, and, and most significantly and personally—you.

If you’re suffering and in pain, maybe self-inflicted, we encourage you to explain such to a parent or trusted adult and ask for help. It’s a difficult first step, but one that will help you begin recovering. And we also advise that you turn to Christ for help—in prayer, community, and scripture. He provides people to us that will aid us in our times of need, as well as himself and the Holy Spirit if we are believers.

Additionally, there’s a scene in this episode where triumphant, Rika concludes that cutting is okay. That’s said in the context of her moving forward bit by bit and forgiving herself for her failures, even the upcoming ones. That’s an important lesson, though we must certainly be careful not to let it be a license to continue cutting with impunity.

Wonder Egg Priority can be streamed through Funimation. Read more of our articles by signing up for our weekly newsletter.

#wonder egg priority #rika kawai #wep #pmmm #Christianity #tw cutting #blog

[rebrandedbard]

A little drabble exchange for @theamazingbard that accidentally became more of a ficlet. Threw in a little hispanic nursery rhyme since I don’t know if we have them in english for making pain go away. I tried googling but it was unhelpful. 

TW: Descriptions of blood, drinking it, gross stuff like that. Canon-typical wounds. References to drinking and inebriation.

WC: 2617

Lips Black as the Rose

Featuring highervampire!Jaskier as he tries to figure himself out after being turned. A bit of spice in there. Am I picking and choosing parts of the lore as I see fit? Yes. Is it very sexy of me to do so? One hundred percent. Will I beta this before posting? Oh absolutely not, you know the drill. ‘No beta, we die like men and get our shit wrecked in the comments’ is my go-to Ao3 tag for a reason.

-

Under no circumstances would Jaskier ever cause harm to another living thing, but the world did not reciprocate that exact philosophy. He’d been chased and held at the business end of many a sword, dagger, lance, and—on several unfortunately memorable occasions—a startling variety of available flatware. Things were rougher after meeting Geralt and having his usual human pursuers overshadowed by the threat of monsters.

Where once a spoon in the hands of a rabid duke would seem a most threatening opponent, Jaskier now found himself on the run from a more literal array of rabid beasts, and he could quote the running speeds the prove that having an extra pair of legs did indeed give certain monsters a leg up, so to speak, on the competition. But then, having no legs at all could prove a better advantage, and such creatures as those often had the additional advantage of long, venomous teeth.

Suffice to say, it was a difficult thing to be a lover in a world of fighters. Particularly when one falls into the company of another presumed lover, only to discover that their invitation to dinner was, in truth, an invitation to be dinner.

A vampire. Young, wine drunk, and foolish, Jaskier allowed himself to be led into the vampire’s den. It had been many years ago, he no longer remembered the details. He only remembered a sharp pain on his shoulder, followed by a woozy numbness, and he awoke in a strange bed, in an inn he did not check into, with his reflection missing from the mirror. He’d run away from home shortly after, fearing a bloodlust that was never to come.

It was a strange thing, being a vampire. After months of research, Jaskier came to no conclusions as to what it meant to be one exactly. He experimented with the content of old myths, touching silver very cautiously, taking delicate bites of foods prepared with garlic. He could cross a river just as well as any man. All in all, there was not much wrong with him, and he wondered what all the fuss was about. Well, there was a bit of fuss in that he could no longer be sure of his appearance, and he’d become more vain than ever, relying on the opinions of others to assure him that he looked presentable. This was a particular bother where Geralt was concerned, for he rarely paid compliments—if ever—and was not inclined to offer opinions concerning such trifling things as fashion or appearances.

Jaskier felt sure that Geralt would have noticed right away, but when their paths crossed again, Geralt seemed entirely ignorant of Jaskier’s dramatic change in biology. Running his tongue over his teeth, he could find no fangs. People complimented him on his eyes, still cooing over how bright and blue they were; and he’d been so afraid they’d turned a ghastly red as in the stories. From what he could tell, he appeared human. He had no violent urges to drain the blood from red-cheeked virgins, nor had he transformed into a bat and flown into the night. Sunlight only burned his skin as much as it had before, though it might have been harder on his eyes. He found himself squinting more in the afternoon, and it was unpleasant hot at times.

All in all, he was relatively normal.

“Such beauty ought to be preserved evermore.” That was what the vampire had told him that night. A great favor, immortality, but he wished he might have been offered a list of instructions to go with it. Figuring things out on his own was exasperating. And though he was not quite compelled to drink blood, there were times when he was … drawn. By curiosity.

When Geralt returned from a hunt, his flesh torn and body bleeding, Jaskier found it challenging to tend his wounds. Many times, he’d almost given into temptation. It did not help that he’d wanted to know the taste of Geralt’s skin long before the transformation. Now, there was an intoxicating layer to the fantasy, and the smell of Geralt’s blood made him hazy, like the bouquet of a strong wine. Or more realistically, the cloud of bitter vodka. If it had been a particularly nasty fight, Jaskier was sure he could taste Geralt’s blood by the smell alone, so powerful it made his nose wrinkle. He could get drunk on the fumes, and it was not always so pleasant.

He never dared try. There were too many things to consider. For a start, there was no telling what the blood of a witcher would do to him—and that was before factoring potions into the equation. Having never fed of blood, Jaskier did not know how his instincts would react, and he was sure he had some animal instinct to him now. He might drain Geralt dry in a matter of minutes, or the taste of blood might make him go insane and start tearing at his surroundings like a mad beast! Or, simplest and frightening of all, Geralt might kill him. So Jaskier kept his secret, never giving in to his curiosity.

But one day, he’d slipped.

“Fuck,” Geralt grunted. He clenched his hand and a sharp smell pervaded the air. In sharpening his sword, his hand had slipped. He’d cut the meat of his palm, just above his wrist.

Jaskier was up at once, Geralt’s bag in hand, ready to wrap the wound. He was very quick these days in getting things bundled up as soon as possible. Once the wounds were wrapped, the smell was not as pronounced. He fished out a strip of cloth and had it round Geralt’s hand in a matter of moments, working efficiently with good practice.

Geralt smiled ruefully. “A clean wound, at least. Should stitch itself up by morning.” He chuckled and inspected the wound, his eyes flicking over to Jaskier. “Haven’t done that since I was a child sharpening my first dagger,” he said.

“Did you cut yourself often in training?” Jaskier asked.

“No, not so often. We didn’t waste wrappings on such small scrapes either.”

There was a distracting shadow of red seeping through the cloth. Jaskier scoffed. “So you let it bleed into the open air, did you?”

“We were less inclined to coddle than humans.”

“Coddle?” Jaskier said, raising an offended hand to his chest. “My dear, a dressing is hardly evidence of coddling. If I wished to coddle you, I’d kiss it better and sing a little chant.”

Geralt presented his hand to Jaskier, smirking humorously. “Then do it. I’ve never heard of humans having such power as to kiss wounds better. Would save me a lot of trouble.”

“Erm … ” Jaskier flushed, considering the proffered wound. He nearly made a joke about lacking such power, being no longer human, but he bit it back. To cover his hesitation, he took Geralt’s hand and gently sang the rhyme his nurse used to calm him after a scraped elbow or knee. His tongue rolled musically as he rubbed the dressing carefully. “Sana sana colita de rana, si no sanas hoy, sanarás mañana.” Then he bent his head down to kiss the place.

“I don’t see what frogs’ tails have to do with my hand,” Geralt joked.

But Jaskier did not hear him. Instead, he felt oddly fixed in place, a metallic tang on the tip of his tongue. He opened his mouth slightly, closed it, and licked at his bottom lip to chase the memory of the taste. As he did, his tongue scraped the end of a long, pointed tooth. He stumbled back unsteadily, muttered his excuses, and fled to the safety of his bedroll across camp. There he sat, writing nonsense in his notebook as though struck by sudden inspiration.

He’d tasted Geralt’s blood. And now he wanted more.

The next few hunts were blessedly without injury. Jaskier found he was able to breathe again. It twisted his gut whenever Geralt went off to fulfill a contract, and his conscience was at odds with this new obsession. He wanted Geralt to come back whole and unharmed. But he wanted some cut, some smallest scrape upon which to lathe his tongue. When he thought of it, he felt a stirring in his gums, and touching the place, he found the fangs had grown in again. It took concentration to hide them again. He took to smiling with his mouth closed after the first incident, and he developed a habit of biting his lips.

When they came to a larger town, Jaskier went straight to the butcher. To quell his growing need, he bought fresh meat, sneaking a sip from the blood dish beneath the draining sheep’s carcass while the butcher’s back was turned. It had the strangest effect on him. Within minutes of leaving the butcher’s shop, he felt light-headed. He felt drunk, in short, and he wobbled his way to the inn, a giggle in his throat.

For dinner, he asked the potmaid to send the loin to the cook and surprised Geralt with it: a small treat to celebrate his recent hunting success. In truth, he wanted nothing to do with it, festering in the shame of his lie. The loin had merely been an excuse: something to keep the butcher busy while he drank his curiosity like some writhing leech dredged up from the water.

It made him drunk. He made note of it in his book and swore that would be the end of things. This odd affair made it easy to forget, his stomach turning in guilt and disgust at the thought of repeating the act. He was fine and healthy without blood, therefore there was no need to partake. He could go the rest of his life perfectly happy never drinking another drop. Until the day it fell from Geralt’s lip.

Jaskier stared at it from across the room. Geralt had just returned from a fight, his eyes and blood black with potion. His armour was scratched up, covered in foulness from monsters unknown, but he was alive and whole, hardly bruised. Jaskier tried to focus on the smell of the guts dripping from his armour. It was still as disgusting as ever, even with vampiric senses to influence his opinion. The wretched blood was still unappetizing. But above it, he smelled a strange scent: sweet, a touch of iron. And there, shining on Geralt’s lip, the wet glisten of blood.

He swallowed hard as Geralt wiped the cut on the back of his hand. The blood smudged along his chin, all the more enticing. His knuckles turned white on the sheet of his bed as he held himself in place. Ordinarily, he would be up on his feet to help coax Geralt out of his armour by now, but he did not trust himself to be so close.

Geralt shed his shoulder pads, looking at Jaskier from the corner of his eye. “It’s a bit slippery,” he said. He inclined his head, beckoning Jaskier over. That was their way. They did not ask things from one another. It was simple routine, and the brief lapse was something awkward to acknowledge.

What excuses could he provide? Jaskier stood on trembling legs and made his way, biting his own lip to hide the fangs he felt beginning to grow. His fingers were clumsy as he fumbled with the clasps, far too close to Geralt’s face. His breath caught, watching a bead of dark blood roll down his lip, over his chin. His lip was stained black.

Geralt had always had nice lips, Jaskier felt. He was always reminded torturously of this fact when he helped Geralt out of his armour. How could one undress such a man without indulging in the fantasy of what came after, even a little? But oh, it was a dangerous line of thought. Now he was bewitched by his senses, his focus single-mindedly drawn to that point on Geralt’s lip. To kiss him now, to lick the blood from his lip—it would be divine. He felt his heart beat faster at the prospect, his hands stalling to unbuckle Geralt’s breastplate as he stared. Just one taste. One kiss was all he wanted.

A hand pressed against his chest, stopping him short. Jaskier startled out of his unconscious reverie and looked at Geralt in horror. He hadn’t—! Had he? His attention flicked between Geralt’s eyes and his lip, and to his relief, the blood remained untouched.

“Not just now,” Geralt said, voice rumbling in his chest. “The potions might paralyze you—at least for a day. Anything lesser would die from a drink of it. It turns my blood to poison.”

Jaskier blinked, edging back. “I … don’t understand your meaning,” he feigned.

Geralt followed him, stepping forward. He raised a hand, caressing Jaskier’s cheek gently. “I know,” he said. “You’re not the best at keeping secrets. I noticed some time ago you stopped aging, and there’s no shadow at your feet, even on the brightest afternoon.”

He swiped his thumb over Jaskier’s bottom lip. Jaskier gasped, his lips parting, and Geralt pushed in. Then, his thumb was pushing Jaskier’s top lip away, revealing a glistening fang. He nodded, satisfied, and stepped back once more.

“You’re a vampire,” Geralt said. “And not a common one either. My medallion doesn’t react to you at all.” He chuckled and added, “As if you could be common by any measure.”

Jaskier turned away, picking up one of Geralt’s shoulder pads. He clutched it to his chest, whether for protection or for comfort he could not say. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I was afraid to tell you … afraid what you might say. What you … might do.”

A warm hand smoothed down his arm comfortingly. There was a teasing quality to Geralt’s voice when he spoke. A hand wrapped around Jaskier’s waist, making him nearly jump in surprise.

“In regards to what: the knowledge that you’re a vampire, or the knowledge that you want to kiss me?” Geralt asked, words hot against Jaskier’s neck.

Jaskier shivered, the adrenaline of his fear quickly turning to something sweeter. “Both,” he sighed. He closed his eyes, trying to focus, to understand Geralt’s intent.

“You cannot drink of me tonight,” Geralt whispered, “but I can satisfy that other hunger, if you only have the discipline to keep your teeth to yourself.”

“What are you saying, Geralt?” The way Geralt’s hand slipped lower and lower down his front, Jaskier thought he knew. Even so …

Geralt chuckled, nose pressing to the back of Jaskier’s neck. “I’m saying I’m tired of the way you look at me like a man starving and refuse to do something about it. It’s gotten worse. It was bad enough before, waiting for you to make your move, but since your turning, it’s insufferable. I feel like the centerpiece of a banquet, waiting to be devoured.”

“You said I couldn’t kiss you,” Jaskier said, breath coming up short as he felt himself pressed back against a firm chest, a second hand coming up to tug at the edge of his chemise. “I have no discipline whatsoever. And you know that.”

“Well then.”

Jaskier dropped the plate of armour as he was pushed backward. He fell, his knees caught by the edge of the bed. Arms caged him on either side, and above him. Geralt smiled, a drop of blood falling onto the sheets below. He pressed his thumb to Jaskier’s mouth once more, something ravenous in his eyes.

“Well then,” he repeated. “Looks like I’ll have to devour you instead.”

#my fic #drabbles #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #vampire!jaskier #highervampire!jaskier #showing off a bit of my culture there with the little rhyme #mexican / irish blended household baby! #sadly though I learned the rhyme from spanish classes instead of from my family lmao #such is life #lips black as the rose fic #persie's tag #I TOLD you I'd leave things unfulfilled #suffer

[etherealluminescence]

Could I request a headcanon of the brothers reacting to finding MC sleeping in their bed?

Sure thing anon! Thanks for asking. No gender specified so it’s a GN!MC. ✨💘💗 thank you for requesting. I appreciate it.

I have three more requests after this one!! Don’t worry other anons I’ll get to you three asap. Two nsfw fics and one hc!

Brothers reacting to finding GN!MC in their bed sleeping

Lucifer

You wanted to make sure Lucifer wasn’t overworking himself, so you made him some tea and brought it to his office a bit after dinner.

After knocking and entering, you ask him how he was, how much work he had, and made a bit of casual conversation. He insisted it wasn’t much, but you could tell from the mountainous stack on his desk, it was going to take quite a few hours so you were going to do something nice for him.

Kissing his forehead, you left your boyfriend to his work and went to his bedroom. You were going to clean and organise it! That way he won’t have to worry about dust, and you’ll even wash his bedsheets and pillowcases tomorrow, because you’re the best lover ever.

You figured it would just take an hour or an hour and a half. What you didn’t expect was you forgetting where everything in the drawers go after cleaning them, and had to figure out where you even put them in the first place when cleaning. You also didn’t expect to see hidden photographs of you two in his drawers, but because you saw them you couldn’t not reminiscence and gush!!

It was already near midnight by the time you were done, so you decided to rest your head on his big comfy bed for a bit, relax your muscles, and then leave. You didn’t want him to find it was you, even if it were obvious. You just wanted him to have one less thing to stress about.

But your own exhaustion betrayed you, as you fell asleep and passed out for a few hours.

Sighing, Lucifer finally finished his paperwork. It had to be around three am about now. If Mammon didn’t annoy the witches again, for who knows what, probably existing, he would of been done hours ago.

He made his way to his room, gently massaging his stiff shoulders on the way. As he entered, he could immediately tell you were there, and noticed just how out of place certain things were.

This could only be your doing. You were the only one who would come into his room, clean it, and accidentally disorganise it.

He made his way to his bed, and smiled softly seeing your chest slowly rise up and down while you snuggled into his pillow.

He took off his coat, and climbed into bed cuddling you without changing, he just wanted to embrace you. You’re just a human but you’ve affected him, a great and prideful demon, so so much over the course of a single year.

He’s going to kill Mammon for taking away his precious free time with paperwork instead of spending it with you, but that can wait until the morning.

Mammon

It was breakfast time and you figured you should wake Mammon up, since he surprisingly was still asleep in his room. Normally you were the last up.

You walked into his room and made way to his bed, gentling shaking him. He wasn’t budging at all, so you decided to go a different path.

If he was going to sleep, so were you! You crawled into his bed and snuggled between his arms, your back against his chest, and your head under his for maximum warmth. Afterwards, you pull the sheets high enough to nearly cover your face.

When Mammon wakes up in an hour, though, he can tell he’s immediately touching something. Is he being punished in his sleep again?

Taking the covers off, he immediately looks down at what he was holding, only to notice it was you?? His favorite human’

Realization doesn’t really kick in that you’re sleeping in his bed snuggling in his arms because he goes to your room for cuddles. But then it hits him like a truck.

You crawled into his bed something when he was sleeping, made yourself comfy, and went to sleep yourself?

You’re putting way too much trust in him, aren’t you!! He’s a man, he is a demon, yet you just went to sleep in his arms for who knows how long.

He stopped working for awhile before coming to the conclusion that of course you wanted to sleep with the GREAT Mammon he’s the best there ever is, who wouldn’t?

He goes back to sleeping, but now it’s back to back. Although he came to that conclusion it’s different than normal cuddling okay! He has to respect your personal space.

Leviathan

You were feeling slightly sick with a stomachache, and really just wanted to disappear off the planet to make it stop.

You were trying to think of a way to go to sleep and feel good at the same time. That’s when you remembered sleeping in bathtubs is good when you’re sick. At least that’s what your dad told you, and made you do as a child.

The coldness of the tub pressed against your skin should soothe it, so trusting your dad’s nonexistent medical degree, you went to test it out. My dad told me to do this once.

You didn’t want to bother Asmo asking for his bathtub when it’s probably covered in roses, so you went for someone who literally slept in a bathtub, Levi.

You knocked but there was no response. However your stomach hurt and you were not leaving for anyone. You entered the room, surprisingly unlocked. Levi was nowhere to be found, but you would explain it later.

Climbing into the bathtub, you lied stomach down while exposing your stomach. You brought one of pillows under your face and just planted yourself into it.

A half hour later, Levi returns to his room. He went to pickup a new limited addition Ruri Chan figurine. When he walked by his bathtub he thought he saw something or someone in it, but went to put the figure away first.

If there was something in his tub, one of his brothers must of did it. He purposely left the door unlocked because he already set up a curse, so they’ll get what’s coming to them.

But then he notices it’s you and freaks out;; he set up the saying Ruri at the end of every sentence curse again.

Okay maybe it’s not too bad it was be adorable. He missed hearing you say ruri at the end of your sentences. But why were you in his tub?!

Realization kicks in and he’s so conflicted does he moves you, does he wake you, does he question every single decision in the entirety of his life right now?

He went for the latter. He’s slowly freaking out that he ends up just watching you from above sort of creepily for the next two hours.

When you wake up you just roll onto your back and see Levi staring down at you with an I’m not sure what to do striken face on. You burst out laughing and explain.

Now Levi thinks he overthought, but you assure him it’s fine and it’s sort of your fault for just breaking into his bed. But he’s concerned about your stomachache.

Your dad’s nonexistent medical degree saved you this time, and you hate to admit it. So you change the subject by offering him cuddles while still in his bed.

Congrats, you’ve broken your Levi.

Satan

You were only going to return a book you borrowed from Satan then go back to your room, you swore, but your desires betrayed you.

You greatly missed your boyfriend who has been busy studying up new curses, and practising magic with Solomon. You were happy he was socialising and learning, but you couldn’t help but feel lonely without him around so much lately.

You ended up returning his book, but reached towards his bed. Surely, he wouldn’t mind, right?

You crawled on top and snuggled into his blankets, trying to get the smell of him. It felt so incredibly comfy to be laying in his scent, that you closed your eyes for just a few minutes...

Click! The door began to open, and in came Satan. He was out for nearly half the day and it was nearly midnight, he just really wanted to rest. Lucifer did not deserve the amount of time Satan was using trying to learn to curse him.

He took off his blazer and set it on his chair before walking to his bed. He could see that something was underneath his blanket, a decently large shape.

He cautiously walked towards it. Was one of his brothers playing a prank and decided to put something under his blankets?

Peeling off the covers, he sees you, sleeping soundless, trying to snuggle into the blanket to get more warmth.

His heart melted and he could feel his exhaustion fading away from just seeing this. He changes into his night clothes and climbs into bed, hugging you from behind.

In the morning you wake up in his arms, engulfed by his warmth. You realised that you never actually woke up and left after you closed your eyes for “few minutes”. But this was actually very nice.

Peeling his arms up for a bit, without waking him, you turned around and snuggled into his chest after giving him a quick kiss.

If you two could always wake up like this, then this is your new bed.

Asmodeous

You and Asmo had spent the whole day shopping. You liked to shop, but shopping with Asmo was a whole other sport. Trying on fifteen outfits per store is a little bit too much for you.

When you two returned, Asmo immediately brought you to his room and told you to wait on his bed, while he goes to the bathroom and open up a few products.

It was pretty late in the afternoon, and you two weren’t going anywhere else, so it was nothing major, maybe a bit of makeup and a fashion show just small Asmo stuff.

While he left, you were sitting on the bed, but your back was really hurting, so were your feet. Everything just hurt. Way too much pushing, changing, walking, ah how you suffer.

You lay down backwards not intending to do anything but rest, your legs hanging off, and close your eyes. His bed was so soft and comfy it’s a crime that your bed isn’t this comfy.

When Asmo returns he sees you passed out on his bed, and is automatically gushing. He should be pissed you fell asleep during your shopping-makeup date but you were very special.

You’re absolutely adorable and even Asmo would say you’re pretty close to him in looks, because he loves you so much. He automatically forgives you.

You look so comfortable that he just picks you up, he may look delicate but the boy could easily throw you, and he fixes your position.

Not to anyone in particular, he says that it’s bad for your position to be like that while you sleep. He brings his covers over you, and goes to take off his makeup.

He won’t join you in bed because you deserve personal space, and he needs to spend two hours preparing his beautiful skin for dinner, but he will watch over you and continue to smile.

Beelzebub

All the brothers had an important meeting that lasted all afternoon until evening. With you not being a student council member, you weren’t going to wait out in the hall until evening, so Solomon walked you back to your dorms.

After getting back you thanked Solomon and just did stuff Lucifer usually told you not to do. Jump on the bed, eating extremely sweet snacks, go into everyone’s closest and take something and just wear it for a bit before returning it.

It was finally Beel’s closet’s turn to be ransacked by you. You started with his shots and they were all just extremely large. You saved his for last since it would take the least amount of time. One of his shirts could just be used as a nightgown.

You looked through a bunch of his shirts and decided on his regular black triangular one, because that smelled most like Beel, which you really loved.

After putting it on, you took off your pants/skirt to really see just how much of a dress it looks like on you. This man is absolutely giant.

You sigh to yourself in content as you jump backwards onto his bed, resting. You spent all evening breaking Lucifer’s rules and damn did it feel GOOD.

But now you were tired, so a small rest is needed. They probably wouldn’t come back till very late in the evening, so you’ll leave before then.

You were wrong. The meeting was finished earlier than expected, because everything with the witches got cleared up pretty quickly. All the brothers went their seperat ways to probably change, Belphie going straight to the attic, Lucifer’s face pissed him off.

Going to his room, Beel walks over to his closet, but before that he just sees you in his bed?? In his shirt, that’s obviously way too large for you.

His face goes from the surprise devildom sticker one to blushing. He had no clue why you were in his bed, and why you were wearing his shirt. But it was extremely cute and looked good on you!

He repositions you so that you’re comfy and pulls the blankets up more. You should really sleep with pants on do it doesn’t make him feel immoral please.

Beel watches over you while you sleep and even brings snacks up to his room to share with you when you wake up, but he eats like half of them. I’m sure you’ll still appreciate the sentiment when you’re awake, though.

Belphegor

It had been a very rough day for you. You procrastinated on all your assignments so you had to get them done in a few hours, you fell down the stairs, and you even forgot to bring your lunch to school. You were dead tired and couldn’t bring yourself to face reality anymore.

You had no idea where Belphie was and he wasn’t answering any calls, so you decided to go into his room and sleep so when he came back, he could snuggle with you.

You walked into his room and casually greeted Beel who was on his side eating cake.

Crawling into Belphie’s bed, you made yourself comfortable and snuggled into the blankets, trying to find even a little bit of his smell on it to comfort you.

You ended up falling asleep fairly quickly, and Beel eventually left the room to invade the kitchen again. During that time, Belphie returned home from rad.

He was sort of annoyed that his phone died and no he had to charge it, because he didn’t do overnight, and his sleep schedule is already abnormal.

He goes over to his bed to reach for the charger when he suddenly notices you!! Absolutely adorable, brightens his mood.

Normally he has to find you for naps, and cuddles into you, but this time you were just defencelessly sleeping in his bed, your shirt slightly pushed up and you were hugging his cow pillow.

The sight was adorable and he ends up forgetting to charge his phone again, because he’s already in that bed cuddling you, going to sleep.

He slept a whole lot at rad that he even came home late, but damn did he feel so tired and comfy with his arms wrapped around you.

#obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me hc #obey me swd #obey me shall we date

[melanielocke]

Love will tie the Tourniquet

After some very valid criticism of the Sanctuary scene and the very limited canon Thomastair content I figured I’d write a scene where they talk it out and Thomas apologizes. I wrote this rather quickly and didn’t edit much so sorry for any mistakes.

Title is from “Tourniquet” by Breaking Benjamin which is definitely an Alastair song (although I find the lyrics difficult to interpret). I think it’s from the POV of someone who is struggling with something and realize love won’t fix them, but also believe nothing will. Love will tie the tourniquet and suffocate me. 

CW for period typical racism and homophobia, implied PTSD, mentions of bullying

Alastair was surprised to hear someone knock on the door. His mother was still on bedrest and wouldn’t be receiving any visitors and certainly no one would want to see him. He opened the door to see Thomas Lightwood in the door, hatless as always, snow had fallen in his hair. Even covered in snow Thomas was a beautiful sight to behold. Alastair tried to stop staring, but wasn’t quite sure how. Why was he here, after everything? Alastair had taken his time to think through what happened, but had arrived at the same conclusion, it was impossible. In retrospect, he wasn’t even sure Thomas liked him that much. Like Charles, he probably just saw someone who could fulfill his needs. After all, Thomas had seemed quite disappointed when Alastair had refused to take things any further than kissing in the Sanctuary.

‘Good afternoon,’ Thomas said awkwardly after a silence. ‘Can I come in? I… I thought we should talk.’

A bit hesitant, Alastair let him in and took his coat. He asked Risa to make them some tea, and brought Thomas into the parlor.

‘What did you want to talk about?’ Alastair asked.

‘I wanted to apologize,’ Thomas said.

Alastair frowned. ‘Why? You have nothing to apologize for.’

‘I do,’ Thomas said. ‘I was angry with you because of that rumor, but that gave me no right to publicly humiliate you. I treated you terribly, and you didn’t deserve that.’

Alastair wasn’t sure what to make of this. It had hurt, badly, the way Thomas had spoken to him, but he’d told himself over and over again that this what he deserved. 

‘Didn’t I?’ Alastair asked. ‘I was awful at school, perhaps less so to you, but still. I can’t imagine why you’d even want to be around me.’

‘Because I forgive you,’ Thomas said.

Alastair stared at him, eyes wide. He tried to hold back the tears, but wasn’t sure he could.

‘Why? Why would you forgive me? I thought you hated me.’

Thomas looked confused. ‘After the Sanctuary? After we kissed?’

Alastair sighed. ‘Charles kissed me many times, we did more than that, and he didn’t love me. He just thought I was convenient and I could fulfill his needs.’

It had been mostly about sex with Charles, and it had taken him so long to realize that it didn’t have to be like that. He’d given Charles everything he could, hoping that perhaps someday he’d receive love and affection back.  

Thomas’ mouth fell open. ‘You… you thought I would be like that? That I only wanted you for physical intimacy? Why would you think that?’

‘What else was I supposed to think?’ Alastair snapped, trying but failing to hold back the tears. ‘You wanted to kiss me only moments after you said I deserved to be hated. And because I wanted you, because I love you, I gave in. You wanted to keep me a secret, you were ashamed of liking me, so ashamed you couldn’t tell anyone, not even people who would not mind that you liked men. Just like Charles.’

I couldn’t have told them how I felt about you. Thomas’ words echoed in his head, and it was worse than Charles being ashamed of liking men. At least he understood Charles’ fears, even when it did not justify how badly Charles had treated him.

‘I never meant… I never wanted to hurt you. I’m sorry, and I said some stupid things. But I don’t want to keep you secret. There were so many things I should have said to you then, and I’m sorry I messed it up so badly. You do not deserve to be hated and I should never have said otherwise.’

Alastair wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He was desperate for affection, always had been, that was why he’d given so much to Charles, but how could he be sure Thomas wasn’t going to be the same?

‘Why not? Did I not cause you and your family terrible pain?’

Alastair was crying now and to his surprise Thomas came to sat down next to him, awkwardly putting his hands around him. Alastair pushed him away.

‘Please… please don’t.’

Thomas backed away as if he’d been burnt.

‘Physical affection isn’t easy,’ Alastair tried to explain.

He wasn’t used to hugging or even being touched at all in a non sexual way. Cordelia tried often to show her affection physically and he was grateful, but it just didn’t always work for him. Sometimes a touch could burn, be so overwhelming he only got worse.

‘What do you need?’ Thomas asked. ‘How can I help?’

‘Just keep talking,’ Alastair said. ‘Please. Tell me how you really feel. Be honest with me. If you… If you don’t really love me, it’s alright. I just need to know. Because I don’t understand anymore. Do I deserve to be hated? To be loved? I don’t get it.’

Thomas hesitated. ‘I was wrong. I was grieving and I was pushing these feelings away and I took it all out on you. But that was no excuse. You do not deserve to be hated, not when you regret what you did so much, and you do not deserve to be treated the way we… the way I treated you. And I’m so sorry. I think I do love you, I just never knew what to do with those feelings so I hid them. But I’m not going to hide anymore. I’m not ashamed of loving you.’

Alastair wiped the tears from his eyes. ‘Are you serious?’

‘I told Christopher, and he took it well. Or, well, he said he already knew and was under the assumption everyone already knew and we just didn’t talk about it. And I told my parents and Eugenia.’

Alastair hesitated. ‘Did you tell them I like men?’

‘No,’ Thomas said quickly. ‘Just about me, and how I feel. And that I’d at least like to have you as a friend, even if you weren’t interested in more.’

‘And your family, they accepted you?’

‘They were very kind and supportive, although my mother did say I might be worse at this whole romance thing than my father.’

Alastair frowned. ‘What did your father do?’

Thomas laughed, and Alastair could only think how beautiful his laugh was, how it lit up his face. ‘As you know, my mother was a servant before she became a shadowhunter, and my father decided to regularly ask her for scones, which he doesn’t like, so he could see her when she brought them. He then hid them under his bed.’

Alastair burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn’t, he knew he had no right to laugh about the people he’d brought such shame to, but at the same time he couldn’t imagine this happening. If Gideon Lightwood disliked scones so much, why not ask for literally anything else?

‘He also accidently blurted out his intentions of marrying my mother in her presence before he even proposed,’ Thomas added. ‘I’m not sure which part is worse, but it does make for good stories.’  

‘I’d say the scones are worse,’ said Alastair, taking a sip from his tea.

‘You’re very beautiful,’ Thomas said suddenly. ‘When you laugh. Also when you don’t laugh, but I like seeing you laugh. You always seem so sad.’

Alastair looked Thomas in the eye. ‘Really? You think I’m beautiful?’

‘Of course I do, who wouldn’t? I love your hair now that you’ve dyed it back to black.’

Alastair felt the tears coming back, and Thomas looked startled. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

‘No, it’s just… No one has told me I’m beautiful. And no one has told me they like my hair. It wasn’t an easy decision to dye it back. I didn’t want to pretend to be something I’m not anymore, but I thought everyone preferred the blonde.’

‘I’ve always liked dark hair, and it suits you well. And I’m glad you’re more comfortable with it. I guess I have no idea what it’s like, to be judged for the color of your hair or your skin.’

‘That’s the second part of what happened at the academy, what I hadn’t told you yet,’ Alastair said sadly. ‘No one there looked like me. They latched onto the rumors about my father, of course but they also treated me differently for being Persian, made fun of my features, my language… I thought it would get better if I adapted more to what they wanted.’

‘Alastair, I’m so sorry,’ Thomas said, reaching out his hand as if to touch him, but retreating. He probably remembered Alastair’s warning, but right now he did want to be touched. Now he knew Thomas did care for him, even if he had an odd way of showing it sometimes.

So Alastair leaned into him, resting his head against Thomas’ chest. It was comforting to feel his chest rise and fall with his breath. Perhaps he did like to be touched sometimes, but only if the other person loved him. There were very few people who did, and Alastair wasn’t so certain if Cordelia loved him anymore.

‘Is this alright?’ Thomas asked, putting a hand around him.

‘It is. It’s actually nice. But Tom, how can we make this work, if your friends still hate me?’

‘Christopher doesn’t,’  Thomas said. ‘He is willing to give you a chance. All you have to do is help him out with his experiments, show some interest, and he’ll like you. Lucie is going to adore you, I’m sure of it. As for James and Matthew… I’m not sure, but they don’t get to decide who I like or don’t like. For so long I tried to hate you out of loyalty to Matthew, but ultimately that’s his issue and not mine.’

‘But what if you lose your friends because of me?’ Alastair asked. ‘I would never want you to lose people you love for me.’

Thomas put his hand in Alastair’s hair, and Alastair thought about how Thomas had said he loved his hair. He’d never considered someone might. Charles had certainly preferred his hair blonde. He had been the one to suggest dyeing it.

‘That would be their loss,’ Thomas said. ‘You deserve to be loved too, Alastair. I will tell James and Matthew when they get back, and if they decide not to accept it, then perhaps they’re not very good friends.’

Alastair was surprised to hear him say that. He’d thought the four boys were exceptionally close, the kind of friendship he longed for but never had.

‘That’s what my mother said,’ Thomas added.

Alastair frowned. ‘Do your parents know I spread that rumor? Surely they would not accept you pursuing me if they knew?’

‘I told them,’ Thomas said. ‘But my father said that when he was young, he’d done worse. He realized he was wrong and changed, uncle Gabriel too. He said it would be hypocritical to hold this against you.’

‘Really?’

‘So far they seem to like you,’ Thomas said. ‘And they are very grateful that you made sure to keep me safe. And… I am too. I never thanked you, but I should have. I am grateful that you put so much effort into protecting me. But please do not risk your life like that again. I would never forgive myself if you died trying to keep me safe.’

‘Only if you promise never to do something as reckless as those patrols again,’ Alastair said. ‘Someone had to keep you safe, and I certainly wasn’t going to let you die because of your own recklessness. Because I love you.’  

They sat like that for a while, Alastair taking in the sensation of being held. He didn’t remember ever receiving such affection, and wasn’t quite sure what to make of it.

‘I’m not going to patrol alone again,’ Thomas said. ‘I promise.’

‘Then I won’t follow you as you patrol alone either,’ Alastair said. He paused. ‘I never expected you to come back for me. I never thought you could love me.’

‘I do. I loved you since Paris,’ Thomas said. ‘I mean, at school I liked you as well, but I thought you it was daring that you said whatever you wanted. I saw your sadness too, but not the real you. Not like in Paris.’

‘I certainly did not say whatever I wanted,’ Alastair said softly. ‘I said what I thought I had to so they wouldn’t hurt me.’

‘I can’t even imagine how badly they must have hurt you,’ Thomas said softly.

Soothing words eased some of the pain, but not all of it. Alastair wasn’t sure if it ever would. Love would tie the tourniquet. It might suffocate him. He would have to find another way to starve the pain within, if such a thing were possible.

‘You were treated badly as well, I’m sure you have some idea.’

‘Yes, but you were always nicer to me than to the others, and I think that shielded me from the others as well. Are you going to be alright, Alastair? I want to help you, but I’m not sure I know how.’

‘I have no idea,’ Alastair admitted. ‘But I’m going to try. You make me want to try. I have no idea how though.’

He knew he needed to get better, if he wanted this to work, to find a way to heal from everything that had happened to him. He knew he couldn’t depend on one person to heal him like he had with Charles, someone who had ultimately broken whatever was left of his heart.

‘Perhaps you could talk to uncle Jem,’ Thomas suggested. ‘If anyone can help with that, it’s him.’

Alastair hadn’t considered that. His cousin thought he hated him. He’d reached out once, back when Alastair had attended the Academy, and he’d pushed him away like he did everyone else. He wasn’t sure Jem would still be willing to help him after everything. But perhaps he could try. Perhaps it didn’t always have to be like this. 

#Alastair Carstairs #Thomas Lightwood #the last hours #tlh #chain of gold #chain of iron #tsc

[fanfic-me-up]

Birthday Boy || Kaminari Denki

Synopsis: You plan Denki the most epic party, but save the best gift for last 😉

Pairing: Kaminari Denki x fem!Reader

Warnings: M/E+, 18+, explicit sexual content, heavy drinking (but being safe about it)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: This is for the @bnhabookclub​ bingo event! Huge thanks to @shoutogepi​ for betaing, u always come thru for my denki content, like where would i be without u 😭 This is for Denki’s b-day (that passed lol) but ima just post anyway so hope you enjoy! 💖

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Denki’s in the corner overlooking the scene in front of him with a drunken smirk on his face. This party is going down as the most epic rager in the history of ragers.  The spacious backyard allowed you to hire a DJ to come in and pump beats through a bad ass stereo system that even Jirou approved of. And she has unbelievably high standards considering her quirk. The bass is turned up all the way that Denki can feel it thumping against his chest.

You took the time to decorate the rest of the yard with canopies and fairy lights, providing a pretty backdrop over the starry sky. Denki’s birthday is in summer so the breeze tickling his skin was just right. People are still splashing in the pool despite it being ten at night.

Denki sees you across the yard, waving goodbye to the taco man you hired. You actually planned the whole party on your own. Denki had no idea how you balanced party planning with late-night work shifts, all the while keeping it a secret so Denki wouldn’t find out.

Then again, it wasn’t that hard to keep it from him, Denki literally heard you on the phone, hiring the taco man for his birthday, and he still didn’t think anything of it. You made sure to invite all of his pro-hero friends. It was relatively tame for the first hour until Sero challenged Denki to a keg stand, and Denki has no shame so there he stood in the middle of his backyard at two in the afternoon, hanging upside down with Sero and Kirishima holding him up, and guzzling as much beer as he could before he toppled over. The Bakusquad all yelling “CHUG! CHUG! CHUG!” and of course, Bakugou had to chime in, saying he could do it for longer. 

And that’s how all the pro-heroes of the future generation that are deemed “noble saviors” by society end up challenging each other to various drinking games. You got the cheap booze, but no one could tell the difference by the third cup. 

“You say… boobs? where...” Mineta slurs, wrenching his guts out into a flower pot. Poor flower.

Oh. Denki just narrated that whole beginning scene out loud. In the third person. Whoops.

Nobody wanted to invite Mineta, but it was Denki’s party so they all stuck it out for one night. After a few rounds of the typical high school party games in which Bakugou took every opportunity to shit all over - 

“Why the fuck… we’re pro… pro-heroes... playin’ this… this... kiddy… sippy cup shit…”

Don’t worry, Kirishima shuts Bakugou up real fast. With his mouth.

“No one shuts me up! You hear… I- I will fuuuck…” Kirishima pulls Bakugou in for another kiss, and Denki peeps some tongue. Go Kiribaku! Mina, of course, came up with the ship name, she comes up with all of them, but Denki loves the ship name you two share the most. It’s what Mina calls… fuck… what’s it stand for? T-O-P? P-O-T? O-T-P? Denki shrugs, thinking it’s one of ‘em, and that he definitely ships you with him all day every day.

Where are you by the way? Denki needs his fill of you, a kiss every twenty minutes dammit! He hangs onto the wall when he walks, the room spinning way too much, but he’s still able to discern you from the chaos. A halo of light surrounds your figure, giving you an angelic appearance, though that can just be Denki’s vision going in and out of focus.

Denki lifts his hands up to his face, as if he were a photographer trying to get the best angle for a shot. You’re collecting empty cups from people and refilling them with water. At least that’s what Denki surmises since everyone groans when you hand them back their cup.

“Oh no, Y/N, Denki’s doing that thing again with his hands where he’s pretending to be a cameraman! Help!”

Denki giggles at the talking broccoli in his living room. Broccoli is such a nice guy, always looking after everyone, he's the number one broccoli for a reason ya know. 

Denki couldn’t have asked for a better girlfriend, I mean, have you seen yourself? You strut over like a model that could end Tyra Bank’s whole damn career, hips swaying in a seductive rhythm to the marching drum of Denki’s soundtrack in his head. Denki really wants to run his hands all over you, dammit, he’s been hoping to get you alone since this afternoon for some birthday sex, but with all the last-minute planning you were doing, it was never the right time.

“Now’s a good a time as any, birthday boy.” You whisper in his ear, making Denki jump when he realizes you caught him narrating out loud. This is why Denki loves you. You put up with all his weird shit.

Denki lurches forward, wobbling slightly, and proceeds to drag you upstairs. You giggle at his impatience, looking around to find the Bakusquad passed out on the couch and definitely staying the night. No way in hell are you letting anyone go home in their inebriated state. Sero is wrapped from head to toe in his own tape after Denki dared him to mummify himself. Mina is curled up on one side of the couch with her makeup miraculously still in place after all the swimming, dancing, and streaking (yes, you heard that correctly, it was a dare) Kirishima and Bakugou are cuddling on another couch, with Bakugou’s head tucked into Kirishima’s arm. Halfway through the night, Kirishima lost his shirt and he’s just been chilling shirtless the entire night. 

“Hold up, this is too good,” you giggle, motioning for Denki to pose in the middle. Denki looks about ready to pass out next to them, with his eyes half-closed and smile so dopey, you’d think he just came back from overusing his quirk. You take a picture of the chaos that is your boyfriend and friends, and decide it will definitely make it into the scrapbook. 

Denki drags you down the hall, like this is his first time exploring the place you’ve shared for the past two years, and leads you into every room.

“Denki, this is the bathroom!” 

“Then why is there a bed?” He looks genuinely confused trying to pull you into the bathtub. 

“Okay, you are way too drunk. Sure you can get it up?” You wonder if he’ll even remember your sexcapades in the morning. 

“I’ll let you be the judge,” Denki pulls your hand to his crotch, which is already rock-solid through his jeans. You bite your lip, teasing the outline with your fingertips, and relishing in every twitch of his hardness. Denki huffs, clearly wanting to get this show on the road, because he throws your hand off and drags you into the next room so fast you trip over your feet.

Denki pumps his arms and shouts “huzzah!” in victory when he finally finds the bedroom, and you giggle at the loveable doof. But, any sign of light-hearted energy vanishes the moment Denki’s lips are on you. Before you know it, you’re pushed against the door, with your thighs spread apart. Anticipation swirls in the pit of your stomach, bubbling at the newfound friction of Denki’s thigh rubbing against your delicate center. He takes it upon himself to rub his cock against the inside of your thigh with absolutely no shame. 

“Eager now, are we?” 

Hell yeah, Denki’s eager, birthday sex is best sex… well, any sex is best sex as long as he’s getting sex. Heh. Denki should take a shot every time he says sex.

“I think you’ve had enough shots to last you till next year, birthday boy.” 

Fuuuuck Denki didn’t know birthday boy was a thing for him, but now he needs every day to be his birthday, just so you call him that. And oh my god who the hell decided criss-cross straps were a good idea? It’s like a fucking maze trying to figure out how to unclasp your bra. You reach around to unclasp it yourself when Denki whines in frustration. He cuts his whine mid-way, when he sees your naked chest, nipples taut and ready to be played with. Just when he’s about to pinch your nipple, you send him for a loop and flip positions, trapping him against the door. And Denki is 100% okay with that too.

“Tell me what you want. I’ll make it the best gift you’ve gotten tonight, birthday boy, ”

You whisper directly into his ear, nibbling and licking at the lobe. You’re awarded with a slurred giggle that brings a smile to your own face. Denki throws his shirt over his head, but instead of it looking sexy like a Taylor Lautner scene in Twilight, Denki ends up getting his head stuck. You torture him for a few seconds by just standing there watching him get his arms tangled in the mix before finally helping him.

He’s still wearing that ridiculous Pikachu party hat Kirishima gave him, and when you try to slip it off, he swats your hand away. You pull his shirt over his head, and come to the conclusion that it’s not true birthday sex if said birthday boy isn’t wearing a 99 cent store party hat. Nothing can stop the delicious tingling making your pussy flutter. 

He pins you with his sudden change of demeanor, even though you’re the one pinning him against the door. It amazes you how he can change from this doof wearing a party hat to 'yeah, fuck me, daddy' in three seconds straight. The electricity sizzling the room is squeezing your heart threatening to burst, as you take in Denki’s unrelenting gaze.

“I want you naked, on your knees, and worshipping my cock, unwrapping it with your tongue.”

You gulp at the unexpected switch, heat pulsing between your thighs as newfound wetness seeps through. A dark tone colors the usual tenor timbre of his voice. You slide out of your jeans and Denki takes his time ravishing every inch of your naked body with his honey-glazed eyes. He weaves his fingers, massaging the roots of your hair, and pulls you down so your eye level with his crotch. 

“And then you’ll thank me for the gift by swallowing every last drop of my cum.” 

Your mouth waters at his bulge on display, and you can’t stop yourself from mouthing him through his jeans. You nose at the rough fabric, biting the zipper and pulling it down with your teeth. You make sure to look up at Denki when you press a teasing kiss to the tip where there’s a wet spot, pre-cum leaking through his boxer briefs. His lips are kiss-bitten red partnered with a cute flush spread across the apples of his cheeks like he’s been out in the sun a little too long. 

You love every part of Denki, you really do, but he’s giving you the sign to hurry up with how he’s literally grinding against your face. His cock bobs, hitting his stomach, when you pull his briefs down; it’s pinker than usual, he’s been horny for a while you think, and it’s leaking so much pre-cum that it’s running down the shaft. You nuzzle your face in, taking in his scent at the most concentrated part of him. You might burst if you don’t touch yourself, but it’s Denki’s night, and you want to focus all your attention on pleasing him. You’re busy having this internal debate when you hear a gruff voice from above you.

“It’s okay, baby girl, go ahead n touch yourself.”

He doesn’t have to tell you twice. You spread your legs enough to trace the outline of your folds and gather enough of your juices to start rubbing your clit in a fierce rhythm. At the same time, you lick the underside of Denki’s cock, following the path of the vein leading up to the head, where you swirl your tongue in circles. You pull off the tip with a pop.

“Birthday boy’s gone quiet,” you whisper, looking up at Denki. It’s true. He hasn’t made a sound which makes you a little concerned he’s not enjoying it. You voice this concern openly.

“Am I doing it wrong?”

He shakes his head, “No, baby, I love it… just… enjoying the view,” his breath hitches at the end. 

Fuck, Denki thinks, how could that even cross your mind? Not when you’re naked on your knees, chest blossomed with different colored hickeys Denki’s left on you from the week before. You’re giving him that doe-eyed look that completely contradicts your naughty actions of suckling his balls. Denki bites his lip when your tongue peeps from your lips to get his cock warm and wet, but what he doesn’t expect is for you to pull away. Denki groans at the loss of heat surrounding his cock. You wipe the spit dribbling from your lips with the back of your hand.

“Babe, I love you and all your weirdness, but I will stop going down on you if I have to hear you refer to yourself in the third person one more time.” 

“But it’s my birthday,” Denki moans, banging his head against the door.

You roll your eyes, tempted to retort with “it’s my mouth,” but pleasuring Denki is top priority, and apparently Denki very much agrees with this sentiment as he forces your head towards his cock. You don’t have time to catch your breath before you’re diving face-first into a mouth full of Denki. Tears spring from your eyes at the shock of his cock hitting the back of your throat, but once you relax your throat and neck, you return to rubbing circles against your dripping clit to the same rhythm of Denki fucking into your mouth. You moan, causing vibrations to thrum around his cock and travel through every synapse of his body. 

“Fuck yeah mmmmm…  just like that, knew you could do it, fuck baby you take me in so good like my cock was made for your tight little pussy and mouth,” Denki groans, unable to filter what’s coming out of his mouth. The sight of his cock going all the way in and out of your mouth, sucking him in almost as good as your pussy, makes his balls tighten and he knows he’s getting close. 

“You like that, huh? You like being stuffed full of my cock? You don’t care which hole as long as I’m fuckin’ into one, isn’t that right, baby girl?” 

You moan in response, eyes rolling in the back of your head, as you chase the high you’re so desperately looking for. The end is in sight, just around the corner. You press your fingers harder against your clit, rubbing intense figure eights, as you choke on Denki’s cock. Your jaw is starting to ache, but you’re at the home stretch now. When you try to pull off to gasp for air, Denki grips your hair tighter, and thrusts his hips forward. All you can do is sit there and take his thick cock, saliva dripping down your chin, mixing with the sweat glistening your chest. Your nose is pressed against his pelvis, so each time you breathe in, the scent of Denki hits you hard, his happy trail tickling the inside of your nose.

“Fuck, baby, you have no idea how hot you look right now touching yourself. Like swallowing my cock turns you on that fuckin’ much.”

The raw power of having Denki above you, saying these filthy things, even with that fucking party hat on, is making your pussy flutter, almost like your body is begging for him to slide into you this instant. As a compromise, you insert two fingers into your pussy and start to rock your hips, riding your fingers in time to Denki fucking your mouth. 

“Ah shit ah… mmmmm you wish it was my cock inside you, huh? Bet you’re so fuckin’ soaked that I’d slide right in.”

You moan in affirmation, your pussy quaking at the suggestion, begging to be filled. The coil tightening your core is about to snap, and your thighs shake in sheer anticipation of the wave of pleasure about to spill. Just when you’re about to come, Denki pulls you out from under him. You only have a moment to gasp for much-needed air before you’re slammed up against the door. Denki slams into you so deep that his cock hits your g-spot on the first thrust. He’s ramming into you so hard that your thigh starts to slip down. Denki picks you up, patting your bum as a signal for you to wrap your legs around his waist.

“Tell me…mmmm fuuuck…how much you love my cock,” he finally grits out, his words getting lost between the sounds of your love-making. 

You didn’t expect to be pleasured tonight by Denki, and honestly, you were completely okay with finishing yourself off, but knowing that he’s taking the time to make sure you’re taken care of when it’s his night turns you on even more. A filthy, squelching sound can be heard every time Denki pushes in, coating his cock with your juices.

“Ah… mmmm… I love your cock, baby - love…  how... mmmm… it fits in my mouth... and fills me up. I love when you’re inside me, and... you fill me up with your cum and there’s so much it drips out… Your cock is the best I’ve ever had… God baby, I feel like it’s my birthday tonight.” You babble in between kisses and moans. 

“I want you to feel good too, baby, now come on lemme hear you scream. I want everyone downstairs to know you’re taking my cock and loving it.”

Both of you are a damn mess at this point. Your hair sticking to your face, and drool dribbling down your chin, but all you can think about is the wave of pleasure about to seize your entire being. Denki feels it too since he starts thrusting at an uneven pace, but still able to hit your g-spot with unapologetic precision, like the sharpshooter he is.

It takes one more deep thrust to topple you headfirst into the abyss of your long-awaited orgasm, and oh does it feel good. 

“Denki! I- oh god- right there! Right fucking there, oh god I-I’m- mmmm...” 

A scream is ripped from your throat, as your back is slammed against the door, your boobs bouncing up and down from the sheer force of Denki’s thrusts. He found his way down to your pussy, making sure to rub your clit with his thumb, so you get the dual sensation. Liquid heat rushes through every inch of you, releasing any and all tension from your body. Denki continues to fuck into you, making sure you come more than once. He groans when your pussy clenches around his dick, but he doesn’t stop riding your orgasm out with you until you’re completely spent. Your body buzzes in the blissful after-effects, but you come back to reality when Denki grunts.

“Fuck, babe, lemme come all over that pretty face.” 

You whine at the dull throb of your pussy, the thought of being covered in Denki’s seed is exciting you despite just getting off. You unwrap your legs from his waist, and make your way down on your knees once again. Denki takes himself in his hand and works himself in overtime with coordination you had no idea he still possessed while being this tipsy. Seeing the outline of his flexing bicep reminds you of how much power he wields over you. You eagerly await for him to finish on you. You lick your lips, hoping to catch any drops of come that land in your mouth.

“Say ah,” Denki pries your jaw open with his other hand. 

“Ahhhh,” you obey, looking up at him expectantly. You run your fingers wherever you can; his arms, down his stomach, his thighs like you don’t know where to hold on to for purchase. He speeds his hand up a little more, his jaw clicks and you see his jawbone protrude, giving a masculine, angular look to his face. Everything about Denki right now screams dominance that you’re wondering if this is even your Denki. You’re taken out of your thoughts when he groans, spilling his seed all over your face and in your mouth. 

“Just like that… fuck yeah… now swallow like the good girl I know you are.”

There’s so much come that it drips down your chest and between your cleavage. He groans at the sight of you covered in his seed, and he makes sure to milk every last drop. You make sure to look up at him when you swivel his cum around like your finger painting, before bringing it up to your mouth and sucking it. You make sure to lick yourself clean, not wanting any to go to waste, and Denki watches with his mouth slightly open and chest heaving, trying to catch his breath, but it’s impossible with the image in front of him. 

Once you finish putting on a show, you get up and take Denki by the hand to lead him to the bed you share. There’s a moment of stillness, electricity still buzzing through the room, but you’re both way too exhausted from the long day to have any energy to really bask in the afterglow. You’re caught up in your own thoughts, but you’re interrupted when you hear a “honk” and catch Denki blowing a kazoo with his party hat barely hanging onto the side of his face. You still can’t believe you came with him wearing that hat; you must really love him. He looks thoroughly fucked out and like he’s just had the best birthday ever. 

Denki’s had the best birthday ever. Period. He turns to snuggle into you, despite both of you being sweaty and sticky. He wants to feel you against him.

“Thank you, Y/N, for today, and for all the birthdays before, and the many others to come. I feel like the luckiest guy in the world being able to spend them all with you.” He trails off as a yawn takes over. You lean forward to kiss him lovingly on the lips. Your noses rub together in that sickly sweet way that everyone secretly loves, but pretends to hate if they see another couple doing it.

And as his eyes threaten to shut, Denki thinks it’s a perfect finish to a perfect night. The end. He faintly hears you giggle, and the last thing Denki hears before he drifts to sleep is-

“It’s only the beginning, birthday boy, only the beginning. Happy birthday, Denki.”

#kaminari x reader #kaminari denki x reader #kaminari denki #kaminari denki smut #bnhabookclub #denki kaminari x reader #kaminari smut #kaminari denki imagine #kaminari denki scenarios #bnha smut #bnha #bnha fanfic #bnha fic #bnha x reader #mha x reader #mha fic