#Having it repeat would have communicated my feeling better but I will spare you

[vio1315]

It is not in vain x50

[thisismeracing]

Mick+ betrayal + angst. Hurt me queen.

Betrayal | MS47

⸺ the one where Mick doesn't know what to do when love is over, and he ends up hurting Yn even more. Or when it took him only two weeks to go out and date the other girl. ✓ mentions of cheating and break up.

⁕ one word, a thousand stories blurb night (CLOSED) ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

What do you do when love is over?

That's a question that not everyone will have an answer to, and even if they do, there is no guarantee it will be the right one. The one that prevents heartbreak, tears stains, and screaming matches.

Mick tried to end things on good terms. And though he knew love was not over for her, he was already in love with someone else, so he decided that lying was a good idea. Mick told Yn that he wanted to break up because he needed to focus on his new seat, to give his undying attention to getting better and better and not going through the rough path he went to previously. That was the most absurd thing Yn ever heard Mick say, and she had heard him say that horses could fly one very drunk day.

When Yn pointed out that she never questioned his timing or asked for more attention than he could give, she reminded him that during his two years in Haas, she was by his side. When she cried, asking him how could love stop him from reaching his biggest goals. When she whimpered that love would actually push you towards your dreams, and support you, Mick could only shake his head and repeat that he was sorry. Which he was, in some way.

He never thought he would fall out of love with her, never thought that he would live a day where her laugh didn't bring him the most joy, or that watching her doing mundane things wouldn't be as interesting as before, but it happened.

And that's how Yn found herself at his doorstep two weeks after their breakup to get some of the things she wasn't able to on the same fateful heartbroken week of her existence.

She knocked on the door, the weird feeling creeping into her body. It was strange to wait by the entrance as if she were a stranger, and as if that was not her house a couple weeks ago.

"Coming!" She heard his cheerful voice exclaim before the lock turned and the door opened. The smile Mick had on his face vanished the second their eyes met, and they had been together long enough for Yn to recognize the guilty look on his face, just seconds before the feminine frame showed up behind him.

She was wearing one of Mick's shirts just like Yn used to. She looked happy. Comfortable. She looked at home. As if they'd been together for more than two weeks. As if their story was older than that.

Yn gulped, her throat closing and eyes watering, but she kept her instance, "I came to take the rest of my stuff..."

"Y-yeah, of course," Mick took a step back, allowing her to enter the house that had a completely new smell. "Mhmm- this is...this is Debby, my- uh- my girlfriend. Debby this is-"

"Spare me, Mick," Yn interrupted. "She knows who I am, and it seems like I'm the only one between us who did not know about her before."

"What do you mean?" he asked, brows furrowing, and body turning toward her, ready for confirmation. But oh Yn was so tired.

She just turned her back to the couple and ascended the stairs. The bed they used to share and everything else seemed the same as the day she left, except there was Debby everywhere. Each small detail that made it Yn's and Mick's little fort was off.

"She was just a friend. You know I wouldn't cheat-" he came up to the room, looming by the door while Yn gathered the last of her clothes from the closet and sorted her things from the new feminine things in his bathroom.

"Ain't it funny how I brought it up and you told me I was paranoid?" She reminded the day Debby and Mick started following each other and they started to message non-stop. Yn trusted him, but for the first time something seemed different, and when she tried to communicate Mick brushed it off.

When the blonde opened his mouth to retort, Yn cut him off, "Guess you didn't cheat but you're still a traitor, Schumacher. And I hope she breaks your heart the way you broke mine. I hope you broke each other's heart."

Mick took a step back as if her words were a fist swinging on his face, making him lose his balance. It was the first time he saw Yn that hurt, the first time her eyes had so many tears and so much loathing.

Yn threw her things inside the bag without caring to arrange it, just as Debby reached the room. Granted, the girl seemed a bit sad about the whole situation, but it did not wipe out how sad and hurtful it was for Yn.

"When you're sleeping in the bed I made with him, don't you forget about the way he betrayed me, because that was exactly what it was: betrayal. And he'll do the same with you, you can be sure of that," Yn smiled painfully and zipped the bag. "I wish you two a very sad life."

Hours after Yn left Mick was still thinking where does the love go? Does it turn into hate? Does it disappear? Did he make the right choice? Was he a traitor?

And for the first time, his house did not feel like his own. It felt like the home he once shared with Yn, except now it was broken.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Yup I wrote it listening to Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo how'd you guess? lol Don't forget to reblog and comment *mwah* luv y'all!

[leothetraveler]

after being reminded of how much narilamb dominates the cotl space, I remembered this little lambket/shroomwool idea and decided to write it out. Admittedly it's a little light on Lamb/Heket interaction as its TOWW POV, but I feel some people will just be happy this exists at all. enjoy.

The One Who Waits laughed heartily as the lamb emerged before them, having just slaughtered Kallamar. Leshy had already fallen and the path to Heket has been open for some time. “Kallamar was always a coward. This land is a better place now his pathetic, sniveling carcass is nothing more than a mound of rotting flesh.” Narinder grinned with malicious delight. Another traitorous sibling fallen. Another step towards freedom. This lamb was all they were prophesized to be. “Now. Finish what you started in Anura. I do not blame you for seeking Kallamar after he showed his cowardly nature, but Heket still lives. Strike while they remain vulnerable.” He could see the lamb shift their weight. They were trying to hide it, but they were clearly uncomfortable with what their lord had commanded. Narinder thought back to the lamb’s last encounter with his sister in Anura. The lamb had hesitated when Heket left. They stood there, as if afraid, before they continued. “Do you fear her?” The lamb was startled, clearly woken from thought. “Do you fear Heket?” The lamb shook their head, the bell they wore jingling quietly. “No, my lord. I do not.”

Narinder regarded their vessel for a moment. “…why did you hesitate?” The lamb looked confused, so Narinder clarified. “Whenever you face my sister, you hesitate before continuing your crusade. I thought it fear, at first, but you claim otherwise. So why delay? Why go to Anchordeep when she laid defenseless? Speak.” The lamb hesitated, purposefully avoiding his gaze. “I just wanted to get some crystals. The lighthou-”

“L A M B.” Narinder cut them off, “do you take me for a fool? Even now, you clearly do not wish to face the yellow crown. I demand the truth. Or else.” The lamb cowered slightly at the threat. They wringed their hooves and mumbled an answer. “Speak up!” Narinder growled. The lamb repeated, but still too quiet to be distinct. “LAMB!”

“I SAID I THINK YOUR SISTER’S HOT, ALL RIGHT?!?” The lamb’s confession echoed through the quiet gateway as the three cats present stared at the vessel in communal disbelief. “You…what?” The lamb crossed their arms and looked away as their face turned red as carmillas. “…your sister's attractive…so I feel a bit bad about killing her.”

It took all of Narinder’s strength not to lose his composure. “…but letting her watch the others fall is much better? You are crueler than I gave you credit for.” The lamb slunk at his words. “Either way, you must slay her to free me.”

The lamb looked between death’s attendants, mulling something over, before addressing their god once again. “My lord…when I free you, I assume I will return to mortality, yes?” Narinder could not suppress a growl of irritation, which was shortly echoed by Aym. “Why is this important? You have angered me enough.” The lamb took two steps forward, their uncertainty disappearing. “I would like to request a reward. For all I have done in your name. I would think such is fitting, yes.” Narinder could guess what they wanted. What charm has his sister put over his vessel? …No. Heket knew nothing of charm, magically or otherwise. This delusion was purely of the vessel’s mind. “If you think I will spare Heket her due punishment for your sake, lamb, you are gravely mistaken. Even if I were to grant her mercy, she would not be with you any sooner than she would bow to ME. Enough delusions. Go.” And with that, the lamb relented, returning to their cult. As they left, Narinder sighed, wishing to relax and forget about the lamb’s horrid delusion.

“To think the prophesized lamb would be such an unworthy vessel.” Aym broke the short-lived silence. Narinder hissed at him, causing them to shrink away. They knew they were not given permission to speak. Baal also flinched, having been cut off from speaking their mind as well. “It matters not,” their master assured themselves, “as even if the lamb offered such, Heket would never accept it.”

“I can’t believe Heket actually accepted.” Narinder spoke to himself as Heket walked the aisle of the temple, the music drowning out his words. His siblings, now mortal, stood beside Narinder. Leshy mirrored his disbelief, thinking the lamb must have made some sort of bribe or threat. Kallamar, ever the soft fool, was more concerned with the beauty of the event and couple as they pointlessly tried to wipe the happy tears from their eyes. Shamura, of course, was simply happy for their sister and stood quietly with them in the front row.

Despite both betraying him and cutting all of them down twice over, the lamb had somehow made peace with his siblings and won over his sister’s heart. If it was not happening in front of Narinder, they wouldn’t believe it. Heket’s smile faded for a moment as they looked at their disapproving brother, which made his cold heart sink, but she continued to smile brightly as she took her place at the lamb’s side. Narinder watched the ceremony but didn’t care for the words. Looking at his sister, he tried to remember the last time he saw such a genuine smile on their face.

Unknowingly, Narinder smiled slightly. At least his sister looked better in a wedding suit than the lamb.

[banzaitaka]

Hi there! Can I request some headcanons for the Obey me brothers where their boyfriend is a fallen angel (He fell before they did)? Their bf has a similar personality to Grell from black butler and they love that their job is to make sure sinners safely make it to the devildom (That job part isn't that important I just thought it could be a fun detail). Or maybe a jjk Oneshot on Gojo just taking in this little boy who doesn't like him all that much but eventually warms up to him?

Thank you in advance if you decide to write either one, and if you don't it's fine.

Stay safe, remember to drink water and eat some food! Love your work <3

---

...Being taken in by Satoru...and...Megumi is there too...Dad Satoru and brother Megumi??? Pls- I WANT THIS TO HAPPEN Actually, I might make reader Megumi's brother so that I don't have to wreck my brain over a different bg story

Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist

I hope this is what you wanted & you enjoy reading! Tips are very welcome!

Satoru Gojo x male! reader

Warming

To say their relationship started off as rocky would be a massive understatement. No matter what Satoru did, the younger Fushiguro brother refused to acknowledge his existence, and in those rare moments he does, a glare way too strong for a boy that age was all he was willing to share. Satoru still saw those moments as an accomplishment. Sure, at least an indifferent expression would’ve been a bit nicer, but he couldn’t help but giggle every time the boy burned holes into him with his eyes.

The only time this kind of behaviour was slightly problematic was when there had to be some kind of communication between the two. Megumi certainly didn’t exactly have the energy to repeat everything the silver haired had said, so his little brother could reply to him instead of to the sorcerer. And since (Y/N) had to live under the same roof as Satoru, without either of his siblings, and won’t be able to move out anytime soon because of his age, exchanging a few words was going to be necessary. Not only to make things way easier, but also to better their relationship.

As much as Megumi would've liked to, and actually tried to, he couldn’t be the only person (Y/N) could depend on. Megumi was older, but still at a young age himself. And being his family doesn’t mean he has to bear the responsibility of raising him, and taking care of him like a parent did. That was exactly what Satoru was there for. But the distrust (Y/N) had towards him was really getting in the way.

No one blamed him for that though, it was absolutely understandable, some might even say expected, behaviour of the boy, considering what he had gone through.

But, again, in order to make life easier for all three of them, a change needed to happen. Not immediately, nothing massive. There was hope it would be enough for (Y/N) to come to Satoru when he needed help with little things, and when he was feeling unwell in one way or another. Whenever Megumi was absent, which was often, (Y/N) would get himself in danger quite regularly. For example, trying to climb onto the counter to reach dishes on the top shelves, trying to work sharp or other not child-friendly objects, never telling whenever he got a stomachache, felt dizzy, etc.

Despite Satoru catching on a lot of times, it was neither a 100% success rate, nor necessary work. It has become quite exhausting overtime. The sorcerer had determination to crack that thick wall between the two.

"(Y/NNNNNN)~", the sorcerer’s voice was as cheerful and obnoxious as ever as he peeked his head through the door; the door to the room (Y/N) got to call his own. The door he wished he could lock sometimes. Only sometimes, though. His feelings for Satoru weren’t as bad as to want to lock him out. The boy spared him a glance from out of the corner of his eyes as he sat on the ground with his new Lego set he got. From Satoru, to be quite exact. As soon as the man found out about his passion for building things (he had watched him build walls and castles out of everything he could stack, multiple times) he made sure to make use of that rather valuable information. Every once in a while he would bring home a small Lego packet or box for the boy to play with. And on a rarer occasion, he‘d buy a much larger set.

Some would say Satoru was spoiling (Y/N) with all those gifts, in actuality it was a peace offering, a gesture to show he could be trusted. “Like giving an animal food until it let‘s you pat it.“, maybe not exactly the best comparison, but those were his words as he explained his actions. Trust issues were not unfamiliar to the male, and this approach was but one out of multiple he was going to try to have (Y/N) open up wide enough.

“You like the new addition to your collection?“, he sat down next to the other, eyeing his current project; a castle. It certainly was bigger than the sorcerer expected it to be, but that was by no means a bad thing. Actually quite the opposite. “Yeah.“, a short and simple response, though it showcases the progress the two of them made. “I‘m glad you do! Because I picked this one up at the store today.“, the young adult grinned, dangling a tiny box in front of the boy by the hook attached to the top. A mini set containing a prince and a horse, it seemed by looking at the big picture.

Satoru could practically see (Y/N)‘s eyes sparkling, dropping the gift into his awaiting hands. He watched him fumble the box open and emptying it at his feet on the floor. The sight of how he pushed all the pieces together in an excitement induced hurry warmed his heart in a way. And once (Y/N) then took the prince figure and put it in one of the towers, sending him a mischievous smirk as he pulled at a piece, activating a mechanism that made the figure fall through the ground…accompanied by that sweet, hearty laugh…Satoru couldn’t help but squeal at the cute display, pulling the boy to his chest, unbothered by the small fists hitting him in his sides and the displeased whines he received in return, “Ahhhhhh! That was adorable! This was the first time I heard you laugh and not glare at me as if you wanted me dead!“

Surprisingly enough, the hitting soon died down, and the whining was replaced by soft breathing. Leaning against the older one, (Y/N) wondered; Was Satoru always this warm?

[thorne-xil]

The mirrors of me

You remember the things you’re told growing up,

They stick with you,

“God sees you, he knows and understands you.”

But the problem is, the things we are told-

The same people who told me I was loved, told me I was paying for the sins I’ve committed.

Smiling and keeping up those images,

Make the mirror smile back,

Nod and agree and they will love you (straight, cisgender, neurotypical and pretend if anything)

But you will find a great place among them.

And I wanted that, I wanted what they wanted me to be,

I saw those and thought they were the gods.

God. (“Lord above forbid there is more than one.”)

But looking back on that mirroring image…

Like reflective glass, they seen me but only through me,

Not really seeing me.

Not deemed “pure” enough

They shattered me…I shattered me.

Cutting and breaking myself down,

And then they saw through like a kaleidoscope,

The colors of which danced across.

They told me it was over, cut me down the rank,

My people are kinds who are damned to the fires of hell,

According to them,

I was the cracked glass, and in a way they were right,

Shards and shatters was what laid left,

Until I smiled, nodded and agreed, forever to pretend.

There’s a way your kind of forced to,

Told to read that sacred text, and I have.

For 18 years I’ve reread those verses,

14 of those,

Repeating, repeating, repeat.

That mythical man’s words,

Burning my flesh, scorching my skin

For I am nothing he tells me,

I am nothing.

And I somehow believed that.

I begged to hide my assortment of colors,

The hate, frustration, and dismay that came with it all,

A complete hole, scorn into my mind

Making it clear I am not regular,

Why am I not normal?

Why can I not be what’s expected of me?

Another smash of glass to my psyche

And I believed it.

They made me believe them.

They said I wasn’t a lesbian, it’s “abnomal”

Being with a girl is sinful and immoral.

Being non-binary, a “fake” identity.

Made it clear I wasn’t clear,

“Jesus won’t want you

God won’t want you

Satan will bar you from hell even”,

When the day of reckoning comes,

I would be left behind in the hellscape.

They would rather me dead, then be something they called “different”.

I yell to keep myself heard, rather than get lost

Within the distorted mirror funhouse that is the mind of others

Who saw me as a sinfully minded hell maiden.

.

.

.

.

There’s a thing about mirrors, something someone close to me use to say:

“That if you dreamt seeing yourself in the mirror, it was your conscience telling you to look at yourself.”

But, my mirror is in shards and shatters, it’s my mouth screaming and crying those verses.

Repeating, repeating…repeat.

But there’s a time when I stopped…

looked…

and…

Looking down at the glass, I was everything they hated.

I spent those years looking in the mirror,

Breaking myself into a million pieces,

It was my hand,

My arm,

It was me.

And without even knowing,

That with a fist to a mirror,

I broke myself into a million pieces.

A mace brought to the already shattered.

Shards and shatters, fragments and splinters.

But somehow, eventually.

I glued myself back together.

Finally stripping myself away of denomination,

I saw me.

But now I deal with the consequences of coming out.

I, to this very day, have to witness and hear of the shit my community goes through, the slurs we have to hear.

“Faggot, dyke, disgrace to God”,

And if I dare say a word, that would not spare the rod.

But the utterance on my body and continuously being misgendered,

It does not make me feel any better.

And being told I’m doing this to be trendy and for attention,

They see to use my pain against me,

So I scream,

Because there is no way in the goddamn heavens,

I would bring the gates of hell upon myself for a bit of attention.

I put up the attempted illusion for everyone, “I love my life”.

Yet twelve-year-old me cried themself into the night,

Begging mythics for help.

Why in seventh grade, I wrote an essay to argue my teacher about how gender and sexuality is not so black and white,

And looking at that pale body of mine every night since I was seven,

The very glass of the mirror that slide across the floor,

Because I’d rather stab it, then keep my womanly aspects.

And me, and thousands of others still fight to prove our identities are real.

Real.

And as bittersweet as it is,

I am lucky, because I can say I love my life now,

My fight with those who deem me dead,

It may never end.

But I am a proof of the living,

The ones who overcome their own stab wounds,

Have stopped the bleeding,

Pieced together.

A beautiful, mangled mess named “Thorne”.

I am a reflection,

A bright new perspective,

Broken or not,

The mirrors of me.

— Thorne

[starfall-spirit]

A Court of Twisted Wisdom

Summary: See ACOTW Masterlist

Chapter V: Broken Wings

Cassian's POV: Fuck. The monolith was meant to heal Rite victors before bringing them off the mountain. Maybe that would bar a clipping, but they'd been beaten and bloodied up there.

Rhys winnowed us directly to the Riverhouse where everyone was waiting to congratulate the girls for reaching the top. We had planned to spend the night talking about tattoos and their methods of getting through it all. But now... Ayla was barely conscious in my arms. She hadn't said a word and didn't appear to want any sort of communication beyond Roxanna's.

Nesta opened the door, her worry rippling down the bond like tidal waves. The door's slam against the wall sobered the shouts and laughter around the table. A chorus of curses went around the Inner Circle as I began shouting for them to find Madja quickly.

Thesan followed us, meeting us in the doorway of Ayla's bedroom. In all of my panic I had forgotten the Lord of Dawn was visiting. Thank the Cauldron for that. Nesta turned down the bed and I carefully positioned Ayla so her wings couldn't be injured farther. Another bed magically appeared so he could treat both girls without wasting time moving between rooms.

Thesan showed no sign of sensitivity towards the injuries he was presented with but I knew there was no one better for the job at this moment. I also knew he was quite fond of all of the kids, despite any disagreements he may still have with the older court members.

"These we're not clean clippings. Especially Ayla's. And the wounds have already started to seal. It looks like it's only a few hours old but she's healed enough I'd say she's had her magic back for almost as long."

"She doesn't have magic," I countered. Even after her first bleeding we hadn't sensed any.

"Yes she does," Nesta breathed, trying to keep Ayla's attention as she started to slip away. "It feels like mine. Like the kind I lost. Late bloomer."

"Let her sleep, Nesta. To properly repair the damage I'd have to open the incisions again," Thesan cut back in. "On both of them." Nesta and I exchanged an uneasy look, Rhys and Feyre were likely doing the same. "I can keep them asleep and spare them most of the pain."

"Whatever you can do, please," I begged.

Thesan nodded stiffly. I could feel the nerves radiating off of my Illyrian brothers as they hovered behind me in the doorframe, faces paling as they assessed the damage. Those males hadn't learned to properly clip a female. Rhys was cracking down harder and harder each passing year, showing his camp heads what kind morals they need to hold with a threat or two lingering.

But the Blood Rite didn't bend to his laws. Someone had dropped weapons improper for clipping and those males had improvised to make a statement. A statement using our girls' bodies so when we found them dead on that mountain they could give us an anonymous little message. There are places in this world that the daughters of war heroes and Made woman still wouldn't be safe. My name was the farthest thing from protection.

"Give me a few minutes to work alone," Thesan ordered, his hands already erasing the bruises peppering Ayla's exposed skin. I started to protest. "Cassian, I'm not here to harm her."

"Wings first," I croaked.

"Cassian, it will only take a few moments to—"

"Wings first," Rhys repeated, in just as much agony as I was. "Please, to put a few Illyrians at ease."

"Very well. Feyre, do you mind staying? You can give blood to heal them."

"Of course, Thesan."

The rest of us shuffled out of the room, leaving Thesan to his work. I slumped into a chair, suddenly all too conscious of my own wings I had kept splayed so casually in my family's presence. "They fought like hell. To get free. To help each other. The membrane around the cuts is shredded." I blew out a breath. "What if this doesn't work," I worried aloud, sick of the silence so filled with dread. "What if they never fly again? It will kill them."

No one had a response and Mor and Elain looked near tears. "They faced more than a clipping yesterday," Nyx finally said, his eyes on the last dawn of the Rite.

The room as a whole flinched at his statement, our gazes following his to the window. Lyra and the males—the survivors of them—would be brought back home in mere moments. Or their bodies would. I had to pray then that the last girl would come home free of the evidence we had seen. The stench of at least three males was present the second I had taken Ayla in my arms. Rhys had likely scented the same on Roxanna. My brother rested a hand on Nyx's shoulder. Despite their squabbling, I'd never seen a trio closer than them, excusing my brothers and myself. But if the girls came out of this broken he'd be just as bad.

"But they still climbed." He scowled. "They've been the only ones to touch the monolith this year. They had to have been close to the top when they were attacked. What happened to the others?"

"Ayla's powers appeared," we heard from the door. "During the Blood Rite the standard binding on her powers was broken."

"We thought she didn't have any," I murmured. "It's why she trained so hard as an Illyrian."

"The best term for all of this is fight or flight. I doubt she intentionally broke the rules of the Rite, but in that moment, when she was backed into a corner, her survival and her best friend's depended entirely on self-defense. Her terror was great enough to draw up unexpected power." He shifted the subject slightly. "She had two ribs and a clavicle broken. Three ribs on Roxanna. I'm surprised they finished that climb to be honest, considering the stories. I fixed what I could." We all flinched at that. What he could. "Everything's in one piece again," he assured us quickly. "They're just weak. Tell them to stick to the ground for a few days. They'll be back in the air soon."

I nodded, standing after Rhys to express my gratitude. "Thank you Thesan. I'm in your debt."

Previous | Next

[cah0mie]

Ok how would the brothers react when you use a mood octopus

This ↓↓↓

Like mc is not talking to the brothers instead they respond by flipping the plush inside out or something like taht

I am SO sorry this took so long. I wanted to create a scenario that wasn't so cliché, but in the end I feel like I still did 💦 I hope you still enjoy it regardless.

If you see that I could have done something better, please don't hesitate to inform me. I take all forms of constructive criticism.

To all my MCs that had the Brothers a little TOO concerned

Lucifer: Alright. We have just returned from the doctors, and it turns out MC has strep throat. So they cannot voice anything for at least two weeks.

Satan: Then we should probably get them something to help communicate. Like a notebook, or a dry erase board.

Asmo: Hold on! I have a better idea!! *Runs to his room*

Belphie: Anyone else feeling a bit anxious. ASMO, has an IDEA.

Mammon: Yeah, I'm not trusting this.

Asmo: *runs back holding a doll of some sort* This here is a mood octopus! One side has a happy face! But when you flip it, it has an angry face! We can just ask MC yes or no questions! Keep it simple.

Satan: I still think a dry erase board is much easier, but It's really up to you MC. You being the one having to use one of these.

MC: ..... *Takes the mood octopus* (It's cute)

Lucifer: Alright then, it's decided. Remember, don't make MC do anything vocal. It will only make them worse. MC, I would also like you to watch what you eat in the future. You can't have anything that's too strenuous on your throat. Understood?

MC: .... *Happy octo*

Lucifer: Good, you're all excused.

-next morning, during breakfast-

MC: *getting favorite cereal*

Satan: *snatches bowl immediately* I don't think so. These chunks will scratch your throat up more. You need to have something that will go down easier.

MC: ..... *Mad octo*

Satan: Be mad all you want, you still won't have it. I'll make you some of the creamy human food. I believe it's called Cream of Wheat.

MC: *repeatedly beats mad octo on counter* (I want my damn cereal! Beel is going to eat it!!)

-afternoon-

Mammon: Alright, I'm going out!

Lucifer: Be back by dinner! I don't get into trouble!

Mammon: Wha-!? Of course I wouldn't get in trouble!

MC: *rushes to meet him at the door ready to tag along*

Mammon: uuhhhh... MC, I think you should stay here. You're sick remember? And who knows who will try to talk to you while we're out. And you being.....you, you'll be afraid that they will see you as rude and try to reply.

MC: ..... *Mad octo* (I won't talk to anyone! I just want some fresh air!)

Lucifer: I never thought I'd say this, but Mammon is right....... I REALLY thought I'd never say that.

Mammon: What the hell!?

Lucifer: You should stay here and rest, we can't afford you going out and getting worse.

MC: *swinging around mad octo* (Dammit! I'm getting cooped up!)

Lucifer: I don't care how upset you get, you're not going out. END OF STORY.

MC: ..... *Walks away to room*

-dinner time-

-While the lot share a whole roasted havoc devil, you are stuck with tomato soup-

MC: .........

Beel: Guys, I feel kinda bad. This is their favorite.

Lucifer: Just ignore them Beel, they're trying to guilt you into giving them some.

Satan: MC, this is for your own good and you know it. That soup will help you.

Belphie: If it helps at all the meat is kinda dry, so it's not that great.....

Lucifer: We probably would've gotten better quality if someone hadn't decided to steal the food money and spend it on themselves.

Mammon: *nervously sweating* Ha ha... What a scumbag that guy must be.

Lucifer: INDEED.

MC: ........ *Sets down mad octo as they slowly eat* (all I wanted was a bite...)

-later that night in their room-

Levi: Hey! We can always play video games! That always cheers you up!

Asmo: Don't they get pretty loud and aggressive when they play with you though?

Levi:..... Yeah that's true, they are a bit competitive.

Mammon: Then how about some gambling?! That always helps me when I'm down!

Belphie: That has never helped you. AT ALL.

Beel: ..... MC, are you ok?

MC: ........ *Angry octo*

Asmo: Of course you're not. That strep throat must be doing a number on you huh?

MC: (NO!! You all are fucking smothering me!!! I'm going insane!!)

Beel: In that case, we have to support them! Keep them company! Right?

Belphie: *nods* Yup.

Asmo: Of course!

Levi: I brought some movies to watch instead!

Mammon: I guess I got some time to spare for the human...

MC: ......(Guys ....I love you....but can I be alone for FIVE MINUTES!?!)

-Next morning-

Lucifer: That plushie seems to be doing a good job.

MC: (No it's not!)

Lucifer: Make sure you don't lose it, cause what you did yesterday is going to repeat for the next two weeks. *Leaves*

MC: ....... *Bangs head against the wall repeatedly* ..... (I HATE THEM..... I love them! But I hate them!)

-two weeks go by-

Lucifer: Alright MC. After two weeks if keeping silent, how are you feeling?

MC: ....... *Happy octo*

Mammon: Uuhhhh MC, you know you can talk now right?

MC: ...... *Makes the octo nod*

Mammon: Then why.....?

Beel: Is their throat still hurting??

Belphie: It should be fine now though right?

Asmo: Satan, do your detective instincts tell you anything?

Satan: .... I can't help but feel like they're holding a grudge against us for trying to take care of them these past two weeks and are now giving us the silent treatment.

Mammon: But what did we do wrong!?

Lucifer: MC, care to answer?

MC: ...... *Angry octo*

Lucifer: *sighs* Looks like we're not done with the octopus just yet...

-----

Again, SO sorry how long this took. I loved the idea SO much that I wanted to come up with an equally good idea, but unfortunately this was the best that I could come up with not wanting to make you wait any longer.

I hope you all enjoyed regardless, please inform how it could've been better - cause I know it could've been

[avtrbee]

in the beginning

a/n: wow! thank you so much for all the love you gave me with never! i never expected that kind of reaction :> here's another gojo fic I wrote a couple months back, you can consider it as a prologue of the relationship or smth but it can also be a stand-alone. the fic was longer, where I included what happened directly after the wedding but I felt like this had a better conclusive ending. i can post it as part two if you want please enjoy the fic and don't hesitate to comment with some criticisms or your general feelings abt the fic! thank you once again!

summary: the beginning of y/n and gojo

my masterlist The night was quiet, aside from the calming buzz of cicadas. The cool air blows gently between both of you, lifting your hair as if you were inside some commercial. It was full and bright from where you stand with Gojo (Satoru, you quickly correct yourself. You’d be a Gojo soon enough), bathing you in the moonlight. If you were any other person, you’d think you were in some romantic getaway with your lover. Unfortunately, that was not the case. The reality was much crueler.

It was calm before the storm.

“I…” Satoru starts. “...I’m not ready to be a father, Y/N.” His body faces the beautiful scenery of lush trees in front of you with his hands in his pockets, but his face is slightly tilted to you. His usual blindfold is off, replaced by the shades you’d given him back then, allowing you to catch a glimpse of his striking eyes.

You scoff. “You’re telling me this now when we’re getting married tomorrow?” You roll your eyes in another direction, to anywhere but Satoru. Your tone was cold and hard as you felt the bitter anger rise in you again at the reminder that you were to be expected to breed like cattle, all for a hopeful offspring that can inherit your Cursed Techniques or be somehow stronger than Satoru.

The anger quickly died down as you glanced at him in your peripheral vision. Satoru was in this too, he was to be expected to breed with you, forced to raise his future children to be a soldier in a world they didn’t choose like the both of you at this moment. You make the mental note to be considerate of his feelings as well. That’s what marriage is about anyway. Right?

His childhood was pleasant from an outsider's point of view; born with techniques that make him a god, a silver spoon in his mouth, and hails from one of the three great clans. But that suffocated him. It's why Satoru is so carefree with a happy-go-lucky vibe and a problem with authority. They have dictated everything he did since he was born. You and Satoru are fools if you don't realize that the same will be done to your children.

“I’m not ready to be a mother too,” you confess, tone softer, laced with understanding. I never wanted to be one in the first place, you think but don’t bother to say. It doesn’t matter. You’re going to have to be one soon enough. “But they’re going to expect an heir and several spares as soon as possible.”

Then it was silent again, Satoru not bothering to contradict your statement. It was a fact, and it's what triggered the series of events that led you here anyway.

Some of you wonder if Satoru has ever wondered about a family of his own with a wife he actually chose. Against your better judgment, you decide to ask him exactly that. Communication is the key to any relationship, right?

“Have you ever dreamed of a family with a wife you love?”

You expected him to look at you and giggle, some half-meant tease running out of his mouth. Instead, he turned to you fully, glasses lowered, and stared. “Have you?” he asked, throwing your question back at you.

“Family? No.” You answered. “But a spouse...once in a while.” You admit, lowering your head, staring at the ground instead. You have not admitted this to anyone. Despite knowing that the possibility of you getting married off to another clan was rather great, the idea of having a family with someone you don’t love seemed meaningless. That and your utter fear of pregnancy and childbirth. You’ve seen many friends struggle with issues that are rooted in bad parenting. You don’t want that. You don’t ever want that. A spouse, however...that was a dream you’d let yourself dream when your guards are down.

“Nevertheless, they will demand a child from us. They will have a cruel fate,” you muse, staring at the ground. “If they get our cursed techniques, they’ll become a toy. If they don’t, they’ll be shamed. I don’t want that.”

"No, they won't." He replies in a firm voice. I'll protect them, goes unsaid in the cool air. You find yourself agreeing. We'll protect them.

You feel fingers below your chin, pushing your head back up for your gaze to meet with Satoru’s. His glasses were off, and you concluded that you’d never get tired staring at his eyes. It was breathtakingly blue as if there were oceans and ice glaciers hidden underneath. He stares at you for a few moments and you let him. You feel him search for something in you before curling his lips into a smile.

“Alright! It’s settled, then!” He exclaims the usual joy back in his voice. “We'll make it work, Y/N-chan.”

The disbelief escapes from your mouth before you could even control it. “Y/N-chan?” you repeat scandalized. You were many things to Gojo Satoru and he has called you such. You’d been L/N when you first met, Y/N when you got closer, 'kouhai' when he wanted to brag about how powerful he was, 'wifey' when after the announcement of your engagement or when he’s feeling mischievous in front of anyone (“We aren’t married yet, Gojo-san.” You’d remind him every time), but he has never called you Y/N-chan. You cringe.

“Whaaat?” He whines, a pout forming on his face. “You don’t like it? How about darling? I heard British people say it to each other during my visit to Europe! Dah-ling.” Satoru tried, purposefully lowering his voice, trying his hardest to have a British accent.

You burst out with a laugh, squeezing your stomach, folding over. Your eyes were squeezed shut in bliss, lost in a brief moment of happiness so you don’t see Satoru smiling softly at your laughing form.

Once you’ve calmed down, you turn away and start walking towards the path to the Gojo residence. “Let’s go, they’re probably looking for us.”

“Pbshhh,” Gojo replied, hurrying to your walking figure. “They’d probably think we’re doing something naughty~”

“Oi!” You scolded, pulling his ear. “Someone might hear you!” You could imagine the possibilities. You’d never know when someone can be hiding in the dark. You suddenly imagined the possible situation that your own father would’ve heard him. Not only would you be embarrassed, but he would most likely give you and Satoru a proud nod. He and the other Elders were the ones who pioneered your marriage anyway.

Gojo rolled his eyes at you. “It’s not like we aren’t allowed to do it.” He said with a huff. “You’re going to be my wifey!”

“We’re not married yet, Satoru.”

Though you’d come back to the residence the way you left, with your hands behind your back and his hidden underneath his pockets, the atmosphere between you was not as cold as before.

[mack3030]

Me vs We: The philosophy of monetization of creator content and how it falls on the pendulum of society...

So this might seem a little bit different from my typical paywall rants in relation to the sims, but I want to get a bit philosophical today, and share with you a very interesting consceptual theory that I believe shows why platforms such as tumblr and twitter have been moving lately towards the route of monetization of content for creators. It's a bit of a read, so I'll leave it below the cut and if you want to read further in your spare time you can. It's just a bit of geekery on my part.

First, let's talk about the Pendulum Theory. This theory is shared in this amazing book, called Pendulum, written by Roy H. Williams and Michael H. Drew. To save you a smidge of time and money on it, I'll summarize the basic premise and concept of the book. The idea is that the authors looked back at human history, and found a repeating 80 year pattern that to them, represented a prendulum. On one side is "ME" and the other side is "WE". Now it is important to note a few things: First, EITHER side taken to the VERY EXTREME is bad. Second, different countries/societies can be at different "places" on this pendulum. (For example, China and the U.S are inverse of each other right now.) Third, this pendulum is often reflected most in our artistic, literary, and advertising media. {And I would argue social media, for those living in the 20th-21st centuries.} Those are the most obvious places to see this pattern play out. Fourth, this pendulum "swings back" towards the other side every fourty years. Currently, we are due to start swinging back the other direction in the US in 2023. So let's talk about what these ends of the pendulum mean, exactly: ME: [Individually-centered society] Can be summed up as "I'm not okay, you are okay." It is up to ME to change MYSELF so that the world becomes better. Emphasis on personal freedom and expression, materialism, personal goals, etc. The extreme end of this however, can lead to self-centeredness to the point of hurting others. A prime example of the "extreme end" of ME being America's "Manifest Destiny" expansion, which resulted in thousands of tribes of Native American peoples losing their native lands and being killed. Can also lead to hollow and phony people suffering from burnout as they try to chase the material and personal goals they have set for themselves. WE: [Community/Group-centered society] {USA is currently in WE, due to switch back towards ME in 2023.} Can be summed up as "I'm okay, you're NOT okay." WE can work TOGETHER to change the world for the better. Emphasis on responsibility to others beside ourselves, authenticity and transparency, and group conformity for the common good. The extreme end of WE however, can result in Witch Hunts where those who do not conform to the standards set by the group as a whole are determined to be problems. The Salem Witch Trials being a prime example of "WE" playing out, along with the rise of regimes such as Hitler and his Natzi party. Again, want to remind you all that BOTH of these are bad when taken to the very extreme. A healthy "middle" of both of these tends to be the best place for a society to be, but we rarely stay in that healthy middle for long. We normally are swinging one way or the other. I'm attaching a graphic that was attached to a review for this book that illustrates what I just spoke on.

Now how does this relate to tumblr's post+ and twitter? Easy. These companies, without realizing it, are starting to see that we are at the peak of WE right now in the US and that we will be shifting to ME very soon. "ME" culture is a prime place for content-creators and side-hustlers to blossom, and this is only compounded by the fact that "Gen Z" is a very material generation. They like their money, and nice things, and they fully embrace the side-hustle culture. {Again, like most generalizations, this doesn't apply to everyone, but does seem to show an over-arching trend.} Meanwhile, Millenials like myself are here dumbfounded because we aren't as material as this upcoming generation. It's very easy for us to be pissed off and want to protest Post+ and other forms of "monetization" of our social media, because we aren't here trying to build up a follower base for profit. We're here trying to connect to others, and for some of us, maybe be able to make a small profit while sharing our content with others we connect with. But, looking at things from this lens, it's hard to 100% blame Twitter and Tumblr for going this route. All they are trying to do is stay ahead of the eight-ball and follow the trends they are seeing. And while it make certain generations that aren't wired up that way pissed, it will certainly fit the upcoming culture shift that will occur. Sad to say for those of you who are {like me} generally pissed with the constant monetization of everything in our lives, that if this theory holds true, things will get worse from here. The only way that this can be "stopped" is if somehow, the monetization of content gets to the point that it starts trampling on the rights of individuals...leading to copyright issues and lawsuits. This is why accounts like @postplus-protest are out here trying to get Post+ stopped, is they can see this occuring with Post+, especially with how many fanworks are on tumblr. It is the same for the Sims 4 CC world. Until 3D modeling sites/creators, and EA start defending the rights to their intellectual property, we will see the paywalling and monetization of sims 4 content get worse as we swing back towards ME. The "I have a right to do things my way and express my individual choices" defense will continually be used to try to sway people to support paywalling content. Only if the people who actually are having their OWN individual rights to their content such as EA and model creators who are victims of converters speak up, will those who are on the side of "ME" be appeased. Because the individual will trump the collective every time as things swing back towards that end of the pendulum. It'll be an interesting show. That's for sure. I'm not very much looking forward to it. :/ Feel free to share your thoughts in the comments. :)

[labomi]

selfish | two (18+)

Summary: You’re a former coworker of Kento Nanami back when he was just an office worker. You accidentally run into him at a bakery many years later which gives you a second chance at getting to know the man who had always caught your eye.

Pairing: Kento Nanami x f!Reader

Words: 8.6k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+ only), vaginal sex, creampie, explicit language, alcohol

Notes: I’m so happy to get this out finally ajsfdsld thank you for all the lovely comments on the first part! I’m so glad people enjoyed it enough to convince me to write more! This will definitely be the last part for this fic, but I do have plans for more Nanami things in the future. Thanks for reading! It’s also up on my ao3 if you prefer to read it there!

Index: [Part One] [Part Two]

You were moving boxes in the storage room when you heard the chime of the front door opening. With a sudden jolt, you realized you had forgotten to change the sign from “open” to “closed” before cleaning up. Cursing at yourself for the careless mistake, you hoped the customer wouldn’t be too upset that the shop was actually shut down for the night.

“I’m sorry, but we’re closed,” you politely explained, emerging from the back room. But one look at the tall figure by the door caused you to stop in your tracks. A large smile grew on your face when you saw exactly who had entered the shop.

Nanami was still in his normal work attire, but he had left behind his signature blazer and sunglasses. The top few buttons of his blue dress shirt were undone, and the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows. You unconsciously licked your lips.

“I can make an exception for you though,” you teased with a wink before walking around the counter to greet your boyfriend.

As you waltzed into his open arms, Nanami leaned down to give you a sweet kiss as a greeting. You sighed happily against his lips. It felt so good to be with him after a long, tiring day. His presence always made you feel safe and warm. Like nothing could ever possibly go wrong as long as you were in his embrace.

Nanami’s hands latched onto your waist as he tried to deepen the kiss, but you reluctantly pulled away with a groan of frustration.

“As much as I’d like to continue, I have to finish closing up shop,” you complained with a pout.

Nanami kissed the top of your head before releasing you. “It’s alright. I’ll wait.”

You changed the sign on the door to “closed” to prevent any unwanted guests from entering the shop. You then wiped down all the counters and properly stored the leftover ingredients. Once finished with all your tasks, you took off your apron and shoved it in your bag. 

“I’m ready!” you called out to Nanami as you started to shut off all the lights. The two of you exited the now dark shop before you locked the front door.

Whenever you had a closing shift, Nanami always came to walk you home. You found it absolutely endearing. Even though you didn’t particularly mind traveling alone at night, the walk to your apartment was always more pleasant when the sorcerer was by your side.

It was almost midnight. The normally busy streets were now devoid of both cars and other pedestrians. You loved sharing these quiet moments with Nanami. Just the two of you enjoying each other’s presence with no one else around. Nanami preferred it this way too, especially because he wasn’t a particular fan of PDA.

You were holding onto Nanami’s hand as he quietly walked beside you. “How was work today?” you asked.

Nanami was a little sensitive about discussing his job as a sorcerer with you. He always refused to share the details of his missions, but he begrudgingly answered your general questions about his workday with vague responses.

“It was fine.” He squeezed your hand lightly. “I was able to get off early.”

“Lucky you! I wish I could have finished earlier,” you complained with a huff. “Closing shift is the worst.”

“Did you eat dinner at least?”

You nodded. “I got some takeout during my break.”

“Good.” He knew you had a bad habit of skipping dinner while you were working. You found it more convenient to just eat a granola bar, especially when it was busy. But Nanami always lightly chastised you when you did this, so you had been making more of an effort to eat better.

The two of you finally arrived at your apartment. Once inside, you immediately emptied out of your bag and threw your apron into the laundry hamper. Luckily, you were off of work for the next two days.

“Kento, you’re staying the night, right?” The sorcerer was still standing in your living room.

“I have to report to work early tomorrow. I don’t want to wake you.”

You rolled your eyes at him with a sigh. Nanami was too considerate of you sometimes. “You never wake me up. Plus, I have my 9 am class tomorrow, so I have to be up early anyway.”

Nanami knew you were right. Unlike him, you slept like the dead. Frankly, he was a little jealous. The sorcerer had always been a sensitive sleeper, but he found it much easier to relax in your presence. Since the two of you had started dating, the quality of his sleep remarkably improved.

“I’ll stay.” You grinned smugly. It didn’t take much to convince him to sleep over.

“Good. I’m going to shower.”

The two of you rarely spent the night apart from one another, alternating between each other’s apartments based on the convenience for the night. Nanami had his own toiletries, pajamas, and spare clothes in your apartment, and you had your own set of things at his place as well.

As you took your shower, Nanami changed into his sleepwear and sat on your couch, reading one of many books he left at your place. Once you announced you were done using the bathroom, the sorcerer placed a bookmark and set the book back down on your coffee table. You were already in the bedroom, changing into your pajamas and packing your bag for class tomorrow, knowing you would forget something if you waited until the morning.

You looked up as Nanami entered the room after washing up. You still found it relatively amusing to see him in such casual clothes: a pair of plaid pajama pants and a thin white t-shirt. But you were glad that only you got to see him like this. The man was the perfect example of prim and proper in public, but at home, he found it more appropriate to dress comfortably. And you thought he looked absolutely adorable. Especially with his unstyled hair.

After the lights were turned off, the two you snuggled in bed together and kissed each other goodnight. Within seconds, you were already fast asleep, exhausted from the long day. Nanami listened to the sound of your deep, even breathing. He felt completely at ease with you safely pressed against him. It wasn’t long before he followed you into a deep sleep.

---

Nanami’s life was simple before he met you at that bakery.

He went to work, came back home, read a book, had a glass of scotch, and made some dinner. The cycle repeated nearly every day, but Nanami didn’t particularly mind. He liked having a simple, predictable routine.

Once you reentered his life, things were a bit different. A bit more exciting. He wasn’t complaining.

Instead of only buying groceries for himself, he made sure to also buy your favorite snacks. Instead of making a reservation for one at a restaurant, he asked for a table for two. Instead of placing one set of utensils on his dining table, he always put down two.

Jujutsu sorcerers were a lonely group of people. They often felt isolated from the general population, born with unique abilities that allowed them to see things that most other people could not. 

It was a difficult path. Sorcerers faced a life full of constant battle and death. And the only people who could relate to their hardships were the same people dying by their sides. 

For this reason, sorcerers rarely interacted with people outside the jujutsu community. They saw themselves as an outsider to the rest of society. A society that was blissfully unaware of the existence of curses.

But it was different with you.

When Nanami was with you, he didn’t feel like an outsider or a jujutsu sorcerer.

He felt like a normal man.

The activities that Nanami once did alone were now the same activities he enjoyed doing together with you. He took you to his favorite bakery to pick out fresh bread every week. He escorted you to well-reviewed restaurants he had been meaning to visit. He even brought you to his beloved local bookstore, the one place he had been visiting for years as a regular customer.

The first time he took you into the shop, the owner couldn’t help but notice the way your hands were intertwined with one another. As you browsed through the shelves on your own, the old woman suggestively waggled her eyebrows at Nanami. 

“So you got a lady now?” she asked curiously.

Nanami thought it was a little odd that she was somehow keeping tabs on his relationship status, but he nodded anyway. 

“Ah! She’s a pretty one!”

You suddenly reappeared with a tall stack of secondhand books in your arms. “Kento! This place is amazing! I’m going to buy all of these!”

“Oh, definitely a keeper too,” the owner commented.

Nanami found himself agreeing. 

He didn’t know if you could be any more perfect.

Nanami had always enjoyed cooking. He loved the process of selecting a recipe, buying fresh ingredients, and turning them into a delicious, home-cooked meal. But he learned that enjoyed cooking even more when it was for you.

The sorcerer was appalled to hear that you hardly ever cooked for yourself. He had surveyed the state of your freezer in utter disgust. It was crammed full of boxes of microwavable meals and several pints of ice cream. You defended yourself vehemently, claiming that you were too busy to cook between classes, work, and study sessions. The microwave was the easiest and quickest appliance to use after all. And sometimes you just wanted ice cream for dinner.

Nanami took it upon himself to make sure you were eating proper, nutritious meals. In his eyes, it was less of a chore and more of a hobby. He enjoyed learning what you liked. He looked forward to hearing your thoughts about a recipe. He loved the way your eyes lit up whenever he presented a new dish. The sorcerer had even subscribed to food magazines and bought some international cookbooks just to try out with you.

Every morning, Nanami packed you a healthy lunch to ensure you wouldn’t just eat a granola bar for the entire day. And whenever the two of you both had a free night, you always ate dinner together.

In particular, Friday nights had become a weekly tradition between the two of you. Nanami would prepare a special dinner with some fancy wine. The two of you would even dress up a little to celebrate the start of the weekend.

You knocked on Nanami’s door one Friday night, wearing a simple yet elegant dress with just a hint of makeup on your face. The door opened and you were instantly greeted by the mouth-watering smell of whatever the man was cooking in the kitchen. But the sight of Nanami was even more distracting. He was wearing an apron over a tight black button-up shirt with gray slacks. You bit your lip softly, eyeing him appreciatively.

While you enjoyed going out to eat in a restaurant, there was something more intimate about Nanami cooking dinner at home just for the two of you. Plus, the atmosphere was always lovely. His apartment was clean, spacious, and well-decorated. Whatever jujutsu sorcerers got paid, it was clearly more than enough.

“It smells good,” you hummed. “What are you making tonight?”

The sorcerer never revealed dinner to you in advance. For some reason, he always wanted to keep it a surprise.

“Homemade linguine with shrimp. I also got some fresh bread to go along with it.”

Your eyes lit up instantly. “Oooh, sounds delicious! I didn’t know you knew how to make pasta from scratch.”

Everything that Nanami prepared was always amazing. There was never a meal he made that you didn’t enjoy. The first time he cooked you dinner, you almost wanted to propose to him right then and there. A man with those looks and proper culinary skills? You felt like the luckiest person in the world.

You always offered to help Nanami while he was cooking but he would gently shoo you out of the kitchen every time. You weren’t sure if it was because he wanted you to sit back and relax or if it was because he thought you would mess things up. 

It was probably the latter. 

(Most definitely the latter.)

Due to your clear lack of culinary expertise, you were in charge of cleaning all the pots and pans and loading the dishwasher. You couldn’t complain.

Your post-dinner activities were always the same. The two of you would play a movie and then immediately proceed to ignore it for the rest of the night.

Tonight was no different. 

You moaned loudly, writhing about on the couch. “Kento, fuck.”

Your dress was hiked up around your hips, underwear already discarded with Nanami’s face in between your legs. You were already shuddering through your second orgasm of the night with Nanami eagerly lapping up your fluids. His strong arms locked your thrashing legs into place as you gripped the edges of the couch, riding out the last few waves of intense pleasure.

You looked up at him through half-lidded eyes as he pulled back, wiping his mouth on the sleeve of his shirt. “Ready?” he asked in a deep voice. His pupils were blown open in lust. You nodded, still trying to catch your breath. The man gathered you in his arms and headed to the bedroom.

He carefully set you down on unsteady legs as he pulled the zipper down your dress until the garment fell and landed in a heap on the ground. To his pleasant surprise, you were already braless. You turned around and started to slowly unbutton Nanami’s dress shirt, taking your sweet time. His gaze raked over your entire figure, causing your fingers to fumble as you flushed from the intensity of his stare. Eventually, Nanami had enough. He threw you on the bed and quickly shed the rest of his clothes on his own.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed, climbing on the bed and hovering over you. His large, calloused hands roamed all over your bare skin while his mouth focused on sucking at the sensitive spots on your neck.

You relished the feel of Nanami’s touch all over you, but one glance at his painfully hard cock had your cunt begging to be filled.

“Kento,” you whined. “I can’t wait. Fuck me, please. I need you inside me, right now.”

Nanami sheathed his entire length inside you with just one sharp thrust. He proceeded to fuck you hard and fast, just the way you liked. Each snap of his hips left you a complete mess underneath him, moaning his name over and over again. It was just barely audible over the lewd, wet sounds of your desperate cunt squeezing around him.

Nanami grabbed one of your hands and interlocked his fingers with yours. A sweet gesture as he roughly pounded you into the bed. The two of you were so worked up that it didn’t take long for the both of you to quickly become undone. You arched your back and tightly gripped Nanami’s hand as uncontrollable pleasure coursed throughout your entire body. Nanami groaned your name as he sloppily thrust into you several more times before flooding your cunt with his cum. 

When he finally pulled out, Nanami was satisfied to see his seed trickling out of you.

“Kento,” you called his name, suddenly feeling shy under his intense gaze.

The man adjusted his position so he was now laying next to you. He kissed you sweetly and whispered praises of you as you giggled breathlessly.

“Hmm, I don’t want to get out of bed and clean up yet.”

“Then don’t,�� Nanami said with a devious look in his eyes. 

It was then that you felt his length hardening once again against your thigh. He suddenly pulled you on top of him as he laid on his back. The movement caused your sensitive folds to inadvertently rub against his dick as you straddled his hips. You gasped at the feeling, clutching at his chest to prop you up. 

“I’m not done with you yet,” he growled.

---

It was a slow afternoon when a man entered the boba shop. He wore an all-black outfit and a matching beanie. Tufts of his disheveled brown hair stuck out from underneath.

“Hello!” You greeted him inside as his eyes flickered around the place nervously before walking up to the cash register. 

“What would you like to order?”

Instead of browsing the menu, the man’s gaze was focused elsewhere. Specifically, your chest. You stood there uncomfortably, wondering if you should say something or just ignore him. But then you realized the man wasn’t being a creep. He was reading your name tag.

The man said your name out loud hesitantly.

“Yes? That’s me.” You tilted your head slightly, trying to figure out if you knew this man. Nothing about his appearance rang a bell. You then started to worry about whether or not you were supposed to recognize him. Was he a current classmate? A former coworker?

The man’s eyes instantly lit up. “You’re Nanami’s girlfriend, right?”

Your eyes widened in surprise.

Kento? He knows Kento?

“Oh, um, yes I am.” The question had taken you off guard. You weren’t expecting a random customer to mention your boyfriend’s name.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” The man smiled brightly at you, looking extremely excited. “Gojo always mentions how pretty and kind you are, so I couldn’t resist visiting when he told me you worked here.”

Gojo?

If this man knew both Nanami and Gojo, did this mean he was also a sorcerer? 

The stranger had piqued your curiosity, and you just couldn’t give up the opportunity to sit down and chat with him. Luckily, it was a slow day and you convinced your coworker to allow you to take your break early. After preparing two drinks, you slipped into a booth in the back of the shop with the man taking a seat across from you.

“I’m Ino Takuma.” The man introduced himself to you.

“So, if you know Gojo and Kento, does that mean you’re a sorcerer?” You kept your voice hushed while asking, just in case your nosy coworkers were trying to listen in on your conversation.

Ino nodded. “Yep, I am.”

You couldn’t help but feel excited to meet another one of Nanami’s colleagues. He purposely tried to shield you from the jujutsu world, but it only made you more curious. Plus, you wanted to know more about what Nanami was like as a sorcerer. He was always so gentle and sweet with you. Well, except for in bed. But it was sometimes hard to imagine that he exorcised curses for a living.

“Do you know Kento well?” you asked curiously.

Ino nodded eagerly. “Yes! I worked with him on a mission once and since then, I’ve really respected him.” He blushed a little, rubbing the back of his head. “Nanami is my role model. I don’t see myself as a particularly smart guy, so whenever I don’t know what to do, I always ask myself what would Nanami do?”

Ino’s words were full of sincerity. In some ways, he reminded you of Itadori. Both of the boys seemed to admire Nanami in a way you would never understand as a non-sorcerer. But it made your heart full knowing that Nanami was a trusted mentor in his workplace.

“Does that mean Kento is strong?” You were a little hesitant to ask the question. As an outsider to the jujutsu world, you didn’t know what made a sorcerer strong. But if another sorcerer told you that Nanami was indeed powerful, you would feel comforted. You knew his job was dangerous, so you obviously worried about his safety, but you tried your best not to show it around him.

“Nanami is super strong!” Ino exclaimed, arms flailing around to emphasize his point. “He’s a Grade 1 sorcerer! That’s practically the best you can be!”

You bit back a sigh of relief. “That’s good to know. Thank you, Ino.”

The two of you continued to chat for the rest of your break, getting to know each other better. Ino even successfully squeezed out of you Nanami’s favorite bakery and favorite bookstore. He claimed he wanted to surprise the man with a gift he would actually appreciate. You encouraged him with a warm smile.

“Thank you for the tea and the conversation,” Ino said, sliding out of the booth. He hovered around you with a light blush dusting his cheeks again. “Um, next time you see Nanami, can you maybe ask him about my recommendation to a Grade 1 sorcerer? If you don’t mind that is!”

“Sure! Will do. It was great meeting you. Thank you for helping to keep Kento safe!”

Ino’s eyes widened at your words. He puffed out his chest proudly. “Of course!”

You waved at him as he exited the shop with a loud farewell.

After your shift, you had returned to your apartment to change and grab some things to spend the night at Nanami’s apartment. When you arrived at his place, the man was already setting the table for dinner. You hugged him from behind with a happy hum as finished his task. Nanami gently removed your arms from around him before turning around and greeting you with a kiss.

“Welcome home.”

“Dinner smells good,” you commented happily. “I’m starving!”

Nanami chuckled lightly. He pulled out a chair for you. “Sit down and I’ll serve you.”

The two of you sat at the table together, plates filled with delicious curry rice.

“How was your day today?” Nanami asked once you both started eating.

“Oh!” You swallowed your bite. “I actually met a coworker of yours. He came to the shop.”

“Who?” Nanami looked rather unhappy, gripping the spoon in his hand forcefully.

“Ino Takuma.”

Nanami sighed, rubbing his forehead in irritation. “I’m sorry. I’ll make sure to tell him to stay away from you. I have no idea how he found your workplace in the first place.”

“Huh? What? No, it’s fine! Ino was very kind and sweet. I enjoyed chatting with him. Also, don’t be too mad at him, Gojo was the one who told him about me.”

Nanami clenched his fist. The next time he saw that white-haired idiot, he was going to kill him.

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “Kento, why are you so against me meeting other jujutsu sorcerers? These people are important to you, no? I want to meet them.”

Nanami refused to meet your gaze. He still wasn’t comfortable with the thought of you interacting with the jujutsu world, sorcerers included. “I’m just trying to prote—”

“Protect me, I know.” You let out a deep sigh. “But I don’t want you to hide your life as a sorcerer from me. It’s a big part of your identity, and I want to learn more about jujutsu so I can understand you, Gojo, Itadori, and everyone better.” You lowered your voice slightly. “I care about you all, you know.”

Nanami reached out across to the table to gently hold your hand. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “I’m sorry.” He knew that shielding you from the jujutsu world as much as possible wasn’t doing you or him any favors. But Nanami didn’t know what else to do. He never imagined he would be dating someone while working as a sorcerer. And he especially never imagined he would be dating a non-sorcerer. 

Relationships between sorcerers and non-sorcerers rarely worked out, so Nanami tried to restrict your access to the jujutsu world as much as possible. He refused to talk about his missions with you. He tried to limit the presence of other sorcerers around you. He did this to protect you, but maybe he was doing it to protect himself instead. He didn’t want to lose you or scare you away.

“I do want to share my life as a sorcerer with you.” Nanami was struggling to find the right words. “But it’s difficult for me.” He had always envisioned his personal life and his work life as two separate spheres, but you were beginning to blur those lines. “I promise I’ll do better.”

You smiled softly, appreciating his efforts. “Well, we can take it slow.”

“Thank you.”

You were cleaning the dishes in the sink when Nanami wrapped his arms around your waist and nuzzled his face in your neck. Both of you felt so much lighter after the discussion during dinner.

“Oh!” A sudden realization popped into your mind. “I forgot to mention. Ino asked me to tell you not to forget his Grade 1 sorcerer recommendation.”

Nanami groaned in the crook of your neck. “Of course he did, that impatient kid.”

“What’s a recommendation? Are you not going to do it?”

He sighed. “It’s complicated.”

“Kento,” you whined.

“Alright. I’ll explain it to you after you’re done.”

---

You had just finished class when a text popped up on your phone. It was from Gojo.

Gojo: Hey! Do you want to go to dinner with me, Yuji, and Nanami tonight????

Dinner? You felt a tinge of excitement.

You: Sure! I’m free!

You didn’t know what the occasion was for, but you were grateful for the invite. Gojo often stopped by at your workplace, occasionally accompanied by Itadori, to greet you and grab a sweet drink. But you unfortunately never had the time to properly sit down with him and catch up. 

Out of all sorcerers you had met so far, Gojo was the most mysterious. After all, what sort of man wore a blindfold in public? And now that you thought about it, how did he always seem to know when you were working? Especially since your work schedule differed from week to week...

Weird.

Gojo: Great! I’ll send you the time and place later~

You: Thanks! See you then!

You were about to text Nanami and tell him you were looking forward to dinner when one of your classmates called your name.

“Yes?” you asked, looking away from your phone.

“Want to join our study group? We’re heading to the library right now!”

“Yeah, sure! Coming!”

It was only after you left the library several hours later that you realized you had forgotten to text Nanami. But you figured it wasn’t a big deal since you would soon see him at dinner. 

Nanami looked at his watch impatiently. It was already past 5 pm. He wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to be back in his apartment, prepping dinner for you. “What are we doing here, Gojo? I need to get home.”

The white-haired calmly rested his arms behind his head with a suspicious smirk on his face. “Relax, Nanami. We’re waiting for a surprise.”

Itadori perked up beside him, looking up at his sensei with wide eyes. “A surprise?! What kind of surprise?”

Gojo chuckled. “The best kind.”

Nanami let out an exasperated sigh. He removed his sunglasses and put them in his pocket. The three sorcerers were standing around in the middle of a busy street filled with pedestrians. “I don’t have time for such frivolities, Gojo. Excuse me, but I’m leavi—”

“Wait!” Gojo exclaimed. He waved at someone in the crowd. “She’s here!”

“She?” Nanami repeated, trying to follow Gojo’s line of sight.

It was easy to spot Gojo, even amongst the giant, moving crowd. The tall man towered over everyone else and his bright, white hair easily stood out in the background. You could see him waving his hand at you, so you waved back.

Squeezing your way through the crowd, you joined up with the three sorcerers with an excited grin. “Hi!”

“Say hello to the surprise,” Gojo announced, waltzing over to your side and wrapping an arm around your shoulder.

Itadori looked thrilled to see you, but as your eyes shifted to Nanami, you immediately sensed something was wrong.

“Gojo, you did tell Kento you invited me, right?” you asked cautiously, looking up at the tall man.

The sorcerer hummed to himself for several seconds before responding. “Nope!”

You blanched. Uh oh. You should have texted him.

Nanami didn’t look too visibly upset, but he was pinching the bridge of his nose with a frown. When would that idiot stop meddling with his personal life behind his back?

“Na-na-mi,” Gojo said in a singsong voice. “Are you excited to see your stunning, beautiful, and gorgeous girlfriend? Shouldn’t you be thanking me for bringing her here?” The white-haired sorcerer pulled you even closer to him. He didn’t miss the way Nanami’s eyes instantly narrowed at him.

Nanami grabbed your wrist and pulled you out of Gojo’s grasp until you were comfortably nestled against his side. He couldn’t stand seeing that man's hands on you. “Don’t let him touch you. His idiocy is contagious.”

You giggled at the comment. Gojo let out a satisfied hum, watching the two of you together. “Alright, lovebirds!” He clapped his hands together. “It’s time for dinner!”

“Dinner?!” Itadori gasped. He started salivating at the thought of food. “Gojo-sensei, what are we eating?”

The tall sorcerer patted the top of Itadori’s head affectionately. “To celebrate Yuji’s last night as a dead man, we’re going to a steakhouse!”

The kid loudly cheered as you looked to Nanami for clarification.

“Itadori is being introduced back to the school tomorrow.”

“Oh, I see.” Gojo had told you before that the Itadori was supposed to be dead and not to mention his existence to anyone. You didn’t understand why and you didn’t ask, but you kept your promise. The young sorcerer bounced around excitedly before hugging Gojo. You couldn’t help but smile at the adorable interaction.

“Let’s hurry up, so we’re not late for our reservation.” Gojo started walking quickly through the crowd with Itadori right by his side. You and Nanami were a little ways behind them as you found it hard to keep up with Gojo’s brisk pace. He pressed a warm hand against your lower back, guiding you through the large crowd.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you that Gojo invited me,” you apologized. Even though Nanami said he would be more open about the jujutsu world, you knew he was still sensitive about you spending too much time around other sorcerers. “I was going to text you but then some classmates asked me if I wanted to study with them, and I said yes because you know I need all the help I can get, and then I completely forgot to message you and by the time I left the library and actually remembered I didn’t text you, I thought it wasn’t worth it since I was going to be seeing you at dinner soon, and I, uh, yeah.” You winced, realizing you were rambling yet again.

“It’s not your fault,” he assured you. “That idiot always has something up this sleeve.”

“You’re not upset, right?”

He rubbed his hand up and down your back. It sent a tingle up your spine. “I'm not upset," Nanami replied honestly. "I’m glad you’re here.”

You slid into the booth at the steakhouse. Itadori was already seated across from you. Gojo was about to take the open seat next to you, but Nanami grabbed the back of the man’s uniform and shoved him away. 

“Hey!” the sorcerer loudly complained.

Nanami sat down next to you, completely unbothered. “Sit with your student, Gojo.” You tried to stifle your laughter, looking at the two men in complete amusement. 

Gojo slid into the booth next to Itadori with a carefree grin. Teasing Nanami was too easy when you were around.

The four of you had a pleasant dinner together. Your only complaint was the way Nanami rubbed your thigh with his left hand the entire time while waiting for the food to arrive. You were wearing a rather short dress which rode up as you sat down, giving him perfect access to your bare skin. It was incredibly distracting. 

You were a little surprised that Nanami was doing something like this in public, even though it was mostly hidden from sight. Part of you wondered if it was because Gojo was present. Nanami always acted a little differently with you when the other sorcerer was around.

For some reason, you couldn't shake the feeling that Gojo knew exactly what was happening underneath the table. Even with his blindfold on, you could tell that the sorcerer was looking right at you with a knowing smile on his face. You felt a little flustered, but Nanami seemed completely unperturbed. Perhaps it was just your imagination.

After dinner, you followed Itadori out the front door of the restaurant.

“Ah! I’m so stuffed!” he commented with a satisfied hum, rubbing his belly.

“I hope you still have room for some dessert.”

The two of you turned back to look at Gojo. Nanami was only a couple of steps behind him.

“Oh! Dessert? Don’t worry, Sensei. I always got room for that!” He gave Gojo a thumbs up.

“Great! I happen to know an amazing ice cream shop around the corner!” You blinked in surprise as the white-haired sorcerer wrapped a long arm around your shoulder again and started ushering you towards the destination. “Let’s get going!”

What you didn’t see was the way Gojo turned his head back to send a smug look to his dear friend. Nanami glared at the sorcerer but didn’t intervene. The walk to the shop was short, and you didn’t appear to be uncomfortable, happily chatting away with Itadori about the best and worst ice cream flavors.

It wasn’t until you all arrived at the shop that you pulled away from Gojo and latched onto his arm instead. “What are you going to get?”

“Hmm. I don’t know. What do you want?” he asked.

You looked at the menu, eyes squinting in concentration. “I’m stuck between Peanut Butter Cup and Mint Chocolate Chip.”

“Pick one and I’ll get the other. We can share.”

Your eyes widened. “Really? You don’t have to.” 

Nanami smiled softly at that adorable look on your face. He gently tucked a hair away from your face. “I like both of those flavors anyway.”

Itadori and Gojo silently exchanged looks with one another. They were both internally squealing at the cute exchange they just witnessed between the two of you. It was rare to see such a soft side of Nanami in public. 

“Nanami,” Gojo cooed, a little jealous. “Do you want to share some ice cream with me too?”

“Absolutely not.”

“Huh? Why not?” the sorcerer whined.

“Because you’ll get the most sickening ice cream flavor of them all.”

Nanami was absolutely correct.

Gojo ordered a large cone of triple chocolate ice cream with chunks of brownies, cookie dough, and fudge mixed with swirls of caramel and marshmallow. 

It was a complete abomination.

The four of you sat outside, enjoying the nice weather while indulging in ice cream. You thought it was cute how Itadori’s strawberry cone almost matched the color of his hair. Once everyone finished their dessert, the group finally split up. You waved goodbye at Gojo and Itadori. “Good luck tomorrow, Itadori!” He had shared with you earlier about how excited (and a little nervous) he was to see his classmates again. You hoped the reunion went well.

It was a quiet walk home with Nanami. The two you held hands, enjoying the calm atmosphere now that Gojo and Itadori were both gone. 

As soon as you entered Nanami’s apartment, you took off your shoes as Nanami removed his blazer. “I had a good time tonight,” you mused. “Itadori is such a sweetie, and Gojo—”

Your words were cut off with a gasp as Nanami roughly pushed you against the wall. He put a knee in between your legs, and one of his hands began to crawl up your exposed thigh. You instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck, shivering as you felt the pleasant tingle of his touch. He gave you such a heated look that it left you swallowing nervously.

“I don’t want to hear another man’s name out of your mouth tonight,” he growled in your ear.

You looked back at him, both half-amused and half-aroused. “I’m only yours, Kento.”

“Good.”

Nanami whisked you away to the bedroom as you laughed breathily in his arms.

---

Nanami surveyed the numerous body bags in the morgue of Tokyo Jujutsu High.

“Three Grade 2 sorcerers. One Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer. Five Auxiliary Managers. Two storage attendants,” Ijichi listed off the number of casualties. 

Nanami clenched his fists. “This is the same curse that Itadori and I fought together, correct?”

“Yes,” the manager replied, pushing up his glasses. “Shoko confirmed that the bodies were all disfigured in the same manner.”

The sorcerer grit his teeth in frustration. He blamed himself. If he had been able to exorcise the curse back then, these innocent lives might have been spared. After all, it was his fault that Mahito had escaped. He hadn’t been quick enough.

“Gojo, can I have a private word with you?”

The white-haired sorcerer had been leaning against the wall the entire time, quiet for once.

“I’ll take my leave,” Ijichi announced, exiting the room. 

Nanami broke the silence first.

“If anything happens to me, promise me you’ll take care of her.”

Gojo didn’t respond right away. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked in an unusually serious tone.

“Mahito is still around. My attacks are not effective against him. He seems to have a special interest in me, so there is a high probability we will run into each other again. And I may not be lucky enough to have Itadori by my side then.”

“No.”

“What?!” Nanami whipped around to face the sorcerer. The fury in his eyes was hidden by his sunglasses, but Gojo could sense the anger all the same.

“No, I won’t promise to take care of her.”

“Gojo, you—”

“Stop acting like you’re trying to die.” Nanami stiffened. “Take care of her yourself. You’re strong.”

A tense silence hung in the air. 

Nanami let out a deep breath.

“Thank you, Gojo.”

---

The next day, Nanami had just finished a mission when the Kyoto Sister-School Goodwill Event ended. He came back to campus to see all the students in baseball uniforms. Wasn’t the second day dedicated to individual battles?

“Oh, Nanami!” Gojo called out, jogging over to him. He had forgone his blindfold for a pair of sunglasses and wore a simple button-up shirt and pants instead of his normal uniform. “Too bad you missed the game! We won!”

“The game?”

Gojo nodded with a devious look on his face. “Yup! This year, the Goodwill Event winner was determined by a baseball game!” He laughed victoriously. 

Nanami shook his head. Only Gojo could successfully pull off a stunt like this in front of both school principals.

“By the way, we’re going out for some drinks tonight. Even Utahime and Mei Mei said they would join. You should come. And bring your girlfriend too.”

“Absolutely not.” There was potentially a traitor among the group, and Gojo thought it was a good idea to bring you into the mix? There was no way he was going to let that happen.

“Too bad. I already invited her.”

“You what?! ” Nanami fumed.

“You mad or something?”

Nanami thought about trying to strangle the white-haired sorcerer when his phone chimed. It was a message from you.

You: Gojo invited me out with you guys tonight. Is that ok?

“Is that her?” Gojo asked, trying to peek at Nanami’s phone screen.

“None of your business.”

He began typing his response.

“I know you won’t say no to her,” Gojo hummed. The other sorcerer ignored him.

Nanami: Yeah, it’s fine. I’ll pick you up and we’ll go together?

You: I have to stay a lil late at work :( someone called out sick so I’ll just meet you all there

Nanami: You sure? I don’t mind waiting for you.

You: Yup it’s fine! See you tonight!

Nanami locked his phone and put it away.

“So?” Gojo asked, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“She’s coming,” Nanami grumbled.

The white-haired sorcerer clapped his hands together excitedly like he hadn’t planned for this to happen from the start. “Great! I’m looking forward to tonight!”

Nanami glared at him in response.

“What? You still mad?”

Nanami tapped his fingers absentmindedly on the table. You still hadn’t arrived yet. Utahime was somehow already drunk, loudly laughing at something Shoko said. Gojo was bothering Ijichi who was sputtering nervously, and Mei Mei was silently sipping on a cocktail she forced Gojo to buy for her. Nanami bit back a sigh. He missed you.

“I heard from a little birdie that you have a girlfriend now, Nanami. And a non-sorcerer one at that,” Mei Mei commented with a sly smile. 

Nanami looked at Gojo, knowing exactly who this “little birdie” was, but the white-haired sorcerer turned away with a whistle.

“A girlfriend?!” Utahime gasped. She grabbed Shoko’s shoulders and violently shook her. “Shoko, did you know about this?”

The doctor was completely unfazed. “Yeah. We’ve all met her before except you and Mei Mei.”

Utahime covered her face and made dramatic sobbing noises. “Out of all of us, it’s Nanami who’s dating first?!”

Nanami’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. What was that supposed to mean?

“Shoko!” Utahime whined. “Will you marry me if I’m still single at 40?”

“I’ll do it!” Gojo quipped. 

The Kyoto sorcerer made a disgusted gagging noise. “Like hell I would ever agree to that!”

“I’ll do it for money. How much would you pay me?” Mei Mei asked.

“You guys are all terrible!” Utahime exclaimed. She latched onto Shoko. “Only Shoko is nice to me!”

“But I never said I would marry you,” the doctor pointed out calmly.

The entire table burst into laughter. Nanami quietly sipped on his beer. 

“Sorry, I’m late!” Your bright voice finally caught the man’s attention. You waved at the group, heading over. Nanami got up to greet you but a certain white-haired man beat him to it.

Gojo called your name happily, wrapping you into an unexpected bear hug.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Nanami commanded, immediately dragging the sorcerer off of you and kicking him back into his seat. 

You chuckled lightly before hugging Nanami too. Hesitating for a little bit, you decided to kiss the man on the cheek. You knew he didn’t like PDA, but you still wanted to greet him affectionately.

“I think you missed,” Gojo pointed out. 

Flushing in embarrassment at Gojo's comment, you were about to pull away and take a seat, but Nanami suddenly leaned down and kissed you on the lips deeply. It was so unexpected that you couldn’t suppress the noise of surprise that left your throat. You could vaguely hear the cheering and wolf whistles from the table which only made you blush more. Nanami finally pulled away, leaving you breathless.

“Now that’s more like it,” Gojo commented with a slow clap.

Ijichi covered his face with his hands, unable to believe he witnessed Nanami in such a manner. Utahime’s jaw dropped open in complete shock. Shoko was busy rummaging through her purse for a cigarette. Mei Mei raised her eyebrows, impressed at Nanami’s boldness.

Gojo gestured to you. “Well, say hi to Nanami’s girlfriend, everyone!”

You shyly waved at them. “Hi,” you squeaked, still embarrassed.

Even though you had the day off tomorrow, you hadn’t planned on drinking a lot during the night. But Utahime challenged all the girls to a drink-off and you couldn’t resist participating to get to know the other women better. Mei Mei only agreed to partake once Gojo confirmed he would cover everyone’s tabs.

It turned out that both Shoko and Mei Mei had incredibly high tolerances. You and Utahime on the other hand, not so much.

You groaned, struggling to climb the steps up to Nanami’s apartment. After watching your pitiful attempt, the sorcerer lifted you in his arms and carried you the rest of the way.

“Ugh, I’m sorry,” you mumbled. You felt bad that Nanami had to take care of you, especially because you had not intended to get this drunk.

“Don’t apologize.” He carefully set you down on your feet as he opened his apartment door. Nanami helped you wash up and get changed before joining you in bed once he was done with his own nightly routine.

You were practically laying on top of Nanami while rubbing a hand down his firm chest. When your hand started to wander lower, he gently took it and brought it up to his face to kiss it. “We should go to sleep.”

You pouted a little but mumbled in agreement, rolling off the man and nestling into his side instead. “Good night, Kento. Love you.”

Nanami stiffened, suddenly wide awake after hearing your words. He was filled with such an indescribable emotion that it left him completely speechless. Nanami was worried you would be upset that he hadn’t responded right away, but he was instead greeted by the familiar sound of your slow, deep breaths. You were asleep.

He let out a sigh. Nanami wondered if you would remember your confession in the morning, but he doubted it. Your memory was always spotty when you got this drunk.

Nanami kissed your head, stroking your hair gently. 

“I love you too.”

---

“Is something wrong?”

Nanami didn’t even look up from the newspaper he was reading to address the white-haired sorcerer. “Everything is fine. Why are you asking?”

Gojo hummed, tapping a finger on his chin in thought. His sharp eyes took in his friend’s appearance. “You seem a bit tense. You didn’t have a fight with the girlfriend, did you?”

“Nothing of that sort happened. And even if it did, I wouldn’t tell you.”

“So you did have a fight!” Gojo exclaimed.

Nanami turned the page. “No, we did not. And just to stop your incessant bothering, I will tell you that she has a very important exam today, so I have not seen her in several days to allow her to focus on studying.”

“Ahh, I see!” It made perfect sense to Gojo now. “You look so tense because you’re sexually frustrated!”

Nanami crumbled the edges of the newspaper in his hands. “I refuse to talk about such things with you.”

“Oh, but you’re not denying it,” Gojo pointed you. “Nanami, there is absolutely no shame in talking about our sex lives. We should be more open about sex to destigmatize it. For example, last week I—”

“I’m leaving,” Nanami suddenly announced. He folded up his newspaper and exited the lounge. He’d rather fight four Grade One curses single-handedly than hear about that man’s sex life.

---

Nanami couldn’t keep his hands off of you. As soon as you walked through his apartment door, cheering that you were finally done with your exam, he immediately pulled you into his arms and kissed you wantonly.

Your absence in the past few days was so striking. He had trouble sleeping and didn’t even feel like cooking without your familiar presence around him. It was so good to have you back again.

You giggled at his eagerness, looking up at him with a knowing smile. “Did you miss me?”

Nanami was already ushering you towards his bedroom.

“Let me show you just how much I missed you.”

The next morning, you stumbled out of Nanami’s bedroom with a loud yawn. You had no class or work for the day, so you were looking forward to lounging around Nanami’s apartment as a reward for suffering through your exam yesterday.

You perked up when you smelled something good in the air. Popping your head in the kitchen, you saw Nanami flipping pancakes.

“Good morning!” You eyed the pancakes with a hungry look.

“Good morning. Breakfast will be ready in a few,” Nanami replied, adding more batter into the pan.

“Okay!” You left to quickly get dressed for the day.

By the time you returned, Nanami was setting down a plate on the table piled high with fluffy blueberry pancakes.

“Thank you for breakfast!” you said with a wide grin, snatching two pancakes and putting them on your own plate.

After eating, Nanami looked at this watch with a small frown. “I have to go.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll clean everything up.” You headed over to the door where Nanami was slipping into his shoes and putting on his blazer. Before he opened the door, you stepped in to fix his tie that was just slightly askew.

“I’ll see you tonight, handsome?”

“Of course.”

For you, Nanami would do everything in his power to make sure he finished work on time and returned home as soon as possible. He used to look forward to the end of the workday because he hated working. But now he looked forward to the end of the workday because he got to see you.

As a jujutsu sorcerer, Nanami knew he couldn’t take anything for granted. Any amount of time spent with you was absolutely precious to him. So he wanted to make sure to maximize that amount of time as much as possible.

Nanami leaned down to kiss you.

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

You blinked.

Huh?

Did he say…?

Wait, did you say....?

Your eyes widened in realization as you covered your mouth in shock.

Nanami said he loved you.

And you immediately said you loved him back.

The words had slipped right out of your mouth without you even realizing it.

“Enjoy your day off,” Nanami said nonchalantly before exiting the apartment. The door gently closed shut behind him.

When Nanami arrived at work, a certain white-haired sorcerer knew something was different about his friend.

“What happened with her?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Gojo grabbed his phone and dialed a number quickly. “You owe me money, Mei Mei! I won the bet! I told you they would confess their love to each other before the end of the month.”

Nanami clenched his jaw.

Bet?

The sorcerer menacingly stood over Gojo, sword withdrawn and cursed energy swirling around him angrily. “What bet?”

Gojo removed the phone from his ear. Mei Mei could be heard angrily yelling from the device, clearly upset about losing a large sum of money. “Now, now, Nanami. You’re only this angry at me because I’m correct, right? You two finally confessed to each other?”

Nanami took his tie off and wrapped it around his hand.

The white-haired sorcerer threw his head back with a howl of laughter. “I’ll take that as a yes! But before you try to kill me, just know that a) it’s impossible and b) I only agreed to this bet to prove Mei Mei wrong. She didn’t think you had it in you to confess so soon! But I always had faith in you because I’m such a good friend!”

Nanami took a menacing step forward towards Gojo, but the sound of his phone chiming stopped his advance. Gojo took that as a sign to escape with his loud laughter still echoing in the hallways.

With a sigh, Nanami unlocked his phone to read the text from you.

You: Wanted to say I love you ♡

You: Just in case you didn’t hear earlier

You: But I’m pretty sure you did...

You: I just want to be sure

You: Anyways I’ll see you later :) 

You: Miss you already

You: I'll try not to destroy your apartment

You: Ok sorry I'll stop bothering you now

He couldn’t wait to come home to you tonight.

[falcqns]

Mute

Pairing: Chris Evans x Mute!Reader

Summary: You meet Chris for the first time and he doesn’t know you’re mute. All hell breaks loose.

Warnings: angst, chris being an accidental asshole, fluff, sebastian stan being protective

A/N: I based this on a dream I had, as well as my experience with being a selective mute from 2017-2020, and how I communicated and who I spoke verbally to. Hope you enjoy!

Sebastian was shocked when he met you in pre-production for the first post-endgame Marvel movie, and you didn’t speak, instead nodding and using hand gestures that he later deciphered to be sign language. He knew that you were fairly new to the industry, and so approached Joe Russo.

“Hey, Joe. I just had a question about the new girl, Y/N?” He asked, while watching you walk of with your PA next to you. “Sure, what’s up?” Joe responded.

Sebastian cleared his throat before continuing. “I tried talking to her a little bit, but she didn’t speak, instead she used sign language, and I just was wondering if you knew why? Just so I can be better prepared and know how to help her,”

Joe smiled at Sebastian’s request. Being the insanely caring person that Seb was, his question didn’t surprise him. “She’s a selective mute. She does talk, but it is only when she is acting, and she’s an amazing actor. She mentioned to me that she doesn’t speak verbally unless she is very close to the person and trusts them wholeheartedly, such as her family and best friends. Her PA is her best friend, and can help you communicate with her. But, other than that, just get to know her. She’ll probably open up to you.” Joe finished, before patting Seb on the back, and walking off to talk to some production people.

Sebastian looked in the direction that you had gone, and decided to talk to you. You may not communicate verbally with him, but he wanted to get to know you.

Over the next few weeks of pre-production, both Sebastian and Anthony got to know you, and both were insanely shocked when you performed your first scene with them. You delivered your lines like you had been talking all your life, and with the gravity of an experienced actor. They both congratulated you, and you signed “thank you” in response. If any one had any doubts about your skills as an actor before, they had fully dissipated.

When it had been announced that production would be moving to the UK, Seb approached you and Mackie with the idea of renting a place together. You had agreed instantly, glad that you wouldn’t be living on your own in a foreign country all alone, especially since Y/B/F/N couldn’t come along. Living with both boys was chaotic to say the least, but you wouldn’t trade it for the world. They gave you the biggest bedroom in the house, and began learning sign language so you wouldn’t have to carry your ipad everywhere for your text-to-speech app.

A few weeks in, you began to speak verbally to both boys. They were shocked when you spoke to them for the first time, but were insanely happy. Seb was almost in tears, recalling that you only spoke to those who you trusted whole heartedly. He had become insanely protective of you, and treated you like a sister, which you absolutely loved.

Everything was going great. That was, until Chris Evans showed up.

He had just finished filming his latest project, and decided to come and visit his two closest friends that he hadn’t seen in a few months. Mackie had mentioned that he was coming, and would be staying in the spare bedroom, and you foolishly assumed that he would tell Chris about your mutism.

But Mackie being Mackie, he didn’t. And neither did Seb, who also thought Mackie had told him.

You hid in your room when Chris arrived, not ready to face him at that point. You ventured out just after dinner time, and grabbed a plate of food before retreating back into your safe haven with the cover of working on an assignment that you had told to Seb. They bought it, and you and Chris made eye contact and shared a wave before you disappeared from sight.

A few days later is when all hell broke loose.

Chris seemed to have a habit of searching you and Seb out. It started off with him walking into our bedroom while Seb was talking to you, and admiring how you’d decorated the place. Yo gave him a small shy smile, which he returned, although there was a hint of confusion written all over his face. Then, you were asking Sebastian for clarification on the Romanian lines that you were supposed to speak the next day, when Chris wandered in to the kitchen. He noticed how you instantly fell silent, and whispered a thank you to Sebastian before you scurried past him. How watched your back retreat, and sighed, but grabbed his the beer he came for before walking into the living room.

It was later that night that you had decided that you wanted to talk to Chris. You hadn’t known him very long, but you felt very safe around him, and everyone had told you how trustworthy he was. You had spent the last 30 minutes hyping yourself up in the mirror before walking out on a journey to find him. You heard his voice floating from the kitchen, and as you got closer, your heart instantly broke.

“I just don’t get what her problem is with me.” You heard Chris say. Another voice, Seb, responded.

“Chris, I don’t think she has a problem with you,”

Chris scoffed. “Yes she does. Why else would she not talk to me, and rush out of a room quicker than she entered when I walk in? She has a huge problem with me. I don’t know why she thinks that just because she got a part in a movie that she can walk around all high and mighty, but I’ve done nothing to her. She’s being a bitch,”

You heard Seb exclaim and start to defend you, but you didn’t stay to listen to what he said, instead running back to your room in tears, your confidence shattered. You grabbed your iPad and apple pencil, and began to draw, an activity that let you communicate your feelings. You wanted to show Chris that you didn’t hate him, and that you didn’t think more of yourself just because you got a part in a movie.

You finished it right before dinner, and kept it in your grip tightly when Mackie called you down for dinner. Your heart fluttered in your chest as you made your way down the stairs, but your face fell, and eyes welled up with tears when you saw Chris wasn’t there.

“Is Chris coming to dinner?” You asked Seb, and he shook his head no sadly.

“No. He’s not in the best mood, but dont worry, he’ll be fine.” He said, as he grabbed his plate.

“Oh, okay.” You said, your voice coming out shaky. You looked down at the ipad in your hands, before walking out the kitchen. Seb followed behind you. Just before you reached the stairs, he gripped your arm, causing you to turn around.

“What’s wrong?” He asked sincerely, and you couldn’t hold back the tears.

“I-I heard h-him talking about m-me earlier,” You whispered, and Seb cursed before pulling you into a hug.

“You heard him,” He said. You nodded before speaking again.

“I drew him a picture and I wanted to give it to him to show that what h-he said wasn’t t-true, and that I’m actually a huge fan of his,” You sobbed into his chest. Seb didn’t move, but waited for your tears to subside, before walking with you upstairs.

“He’ll come around. He had a rough night, although that doesn’t excuse his behaviour. I’ll talk to him, okay?”

You nodded, and curled up in bed. “Do you want me to bring you up some dinner?” Seb asked, and you nodded again, before telling him what you wanted.

He left the room, and came down the stairs. he plated the food that you wanted, and grabbed a water bottle out of the fridge.

“What happened?” Anthony asked from the dining room as Seb passed.

“She heard what Evans said, and she’s heartbroken. I’m bringing her dinner, and then I’m gonna talk some sense into that motherfucker.”

“Good, he needs it.” Anthony agreed, watching as Seb walked away.

Seb dropped the food off to you, before walking across the hall to Chris’s room. He answered after the first knock.

“What’s up?”

“First of all, you’re a grade A asshole, and second of all, you need to go apologize to Y/N.” Seb said, anger bubbling in his voice.

“Why? She hates me, I’ve done nothing to her to-“ Chris began before Seb interrupted him.

“SHE DOESN’T HATE YOU!” He exclaimed. “She’s selectively mute, that’s why she doesn’t speak to you! She’s a huge fan of you. She’s in her bedroom, right now, heartbroken, because she heard you talking about her.” Seb finished, his hand pointing at your bedroom door.

Chris felt his heart sink. “Why does she talk to you, but not me?”

Seb sighed. “She only talks to people she trusts a lot, and you met her yesterday. Of course she’s not gonna talk to you right away, and now I’m afraid she never will because you talked bad about her. She drew you a picture in hopes that you would understand that she didn’t hate you, but you broke her heart even more by not showing up at dinner. Now, go and fix it or will not hesitate to call your mother.” Seb finished, before walking away.

Chris sat back down on his bed in disbelief. He’d fucked up, and he didn’t know how to fix it. He thought back to Seb’s threat, before picking up his phone and calling his mom.

You had just finished another episode of Criminal Minds, when a knock came to your bedroom door. You dragged yourself out of bed, and opened the door to reveal Chris. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and kept them locked on the floor, in fear that he was going to yell at you, and repeat his earlier statements to your face.

“I’m sorry,” Chris breathed out. “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

You slowly moved your eyes up to meet his, and he sucked in a breath when he saw your puffy eyes. “It’s ok.” You signed, and Chris shook his head no, before enveloping you into his arms.

He moved the two of your further into your bedroom, and shut the door behind him.

“It is NOT okay. In any way. I broke your fucking heart, Y/N. I have no excuse for what I said, and I want to make it up to you. Will you let me do that?” He asked, his face buried into the hair atop your head. You nodded and he pulled away from you. You grabbed your ipad, opened up your text to speech app, and typed in a sentence.

“Do you want to watch a movie with me?”

Chris nodded, and smiled, his thumb brushing over your cheek. “Of course. You pick.”

You led him over to the bed, and got in, and he climbed in the opposite side. You picked up the remote, and chose the movie “Swat: Under Siege”. Chris wrapped an arm around your shoulders, and pulled you close to him. You cuddled into his chest as the movies opening scene began to play.

About halfway through the movie, Chris tilted your chin up to look at him.

“I really am sorry. I hate that I said what I did. I just- Seb had told me all about you, and I had seen some of the leaked pictures from set, and all I wanted to do was impress you. When I thought you hated me, I couldn’t handle it, and I lashed out. I’m so so sorry about that.” He said, his thumb teaching over your cheekbone once more. “Also, Seb told me that you drew me a picture? Can I see it?” And you nodded.

You unlocked your ipad and opened the drawing app, clicking on the most recent one, before handing the device over to Chris.

His breath caught in his throat while he looked down at the picture you had drawn of him.

“T-that is amazing,” He said, tears coming to his eyes at the picture that you worked so hard to make of him. “You’re even more amazing than I thought.” He finished. “Thank you,” You signed, before thinking of a question.

You grabbed your iPad once more, and typed into your app.

“Why did you want to impress me?” Chris smiled at the sound of the robotic voice coming from the device.

“I was drawn to you. I dont know what is was, but I couldn’t get you off my mind. I had searched and searched to find another tv or movie you had been in, but nothing came up, and I was so shocked that you got such a big part right off the bat. But I was also insanely excited to see you perform. And when Seb and Mackie told me I could come and stay for a while, I was ecstatic to be able to get to know you, and that’s when I realized that I liked you.”

Your breath caught in your throat at his words. Did Chris Evans really just admit to having a crush on you?

“Now, I understand if you dont like me back, but I had to get that off my chest, especially since I just broke your heart.” Chris said, his eyes focused on the tv to not meet your gaze. You gave him a small smile, but grasped his chin into your hand, and drew his lips into a soft and tender kiss.

He let out a breathy moan, and pulled you closer. His lips travelled from your lips, and all over your face, amking you let out a giggle. He started laughing too, and pulled away. “I’m guessing this means that you like me too?” He asked, and you nodded immediately.

He smiled, and grasped your hand in his. “Well then, can I take you on a date?”

You took a deep breath, and opened your mouth. “Yes.”

Chris’s eyes immediately welled up with tears and he pulled you in for another kiss.

“You spoke to me,” He whispered when he pulled apart, a few tears rolling down his face.

You shrugged and gave him a smile.

“I trust you wholeheartedly.”

[ncssian]

A Favor: Part Twenty-Three

Nessian Modern AU

Masterlist

a/n: so yeah this isn’t my best work bc i havent been feeling great lately but i hope you guys can stay patient with me until i get my shit together. we’re almost to the end🤞

***

Sitting crammed between Elain and Feyre on the gray couch in Lana’s office, Nesta has to cross her legs prettily and pretend she doesn’t want to peel out of her skin right there. She doesn’t know what she was thinking when she invited her sisters to one of her therapy sessions, but she’s assuming it would be considered rude to kick them out now.

“Who wants to speak first?” Lana’s bob swings as she looks at each of them. The office is ice cold today, and Feyre and Elain’s presence doesn’t help the chill in the air.

Nesta crosses her arms before she can be asked to speak. “No, thank you,” she says. She knows everyone probably expects better from her, but no way in hell is she going to be the first to open up in front of this crowd. “Feyre,” she turns to her youngest sister instead, “why don’t you say something?”

“Actually, why don’t you set the example, Nesta?” Lana gives her a look, making her cheeks redden with irritation.

“Fine,” Nesta grumbles. She clears her throat. “As you can see, I have made moves to reconnect with my sisters. I invited them here because I hoped that therapy would bring us closer and also make them more… tolerable.”

Elain coughs, “Bitch.”

Nesta smiles tightly. “Elain could especially use this, I think.”

Lana is already frowning. She never frowns this early into a session. “We’ll start with an easy question, then. What’s been on your mind lately, Nesta?”

Nesta purses her lips, pretending to think. “Nothing important. I’m looking at jobs for the summer. I think Azriel keeps sneaking money into my purse, and it’s starting to become more than a little condescending. I caught up with some friends from school, and I was polite enough to pay for lunch.” She mentions off to the side to Elain, “Lucien was there, too.”

“Why would I care?” Elain sneers. She spies Lana’s disapproving look and lowers her head demurely. “Sorry,” she murmurs.

“That’s alright,” Lana says. “Why don’t you go next?”

“Me?” Elain’s head snaps up, and Nesta holds in her snicker.

“Start by describing your relationship with Nesta. I heard you two used to be very close.” Lana uncaps her pen, preparing to write.

Elain flushes lightly and folds her hands. “That was when we were children. The only thing keeping us together was that we shared a home. When we stopped living in the same place, some of us had no problem leaving others in the dust.”

“You can use my name,” Nesta rolls her eyes, “I’m right here.”

From the corner of her vision, Feyre cringes.

“Are you saying you feel abandoned by Nesta?” Lana continues probing.

Elain’s answering silence tells more than enough. Therapy must actually be paying off, though, because Nesta only thinks about interrupting and defending herself for a second before shaking it off. Her mind focuses on the word abandonment instead.

Lana is focusing on the same thing, because she leans closer and says, “Being abandoned bothers you?”

“I never said that,” Elain says indignantly.

“It would bother most people.”

Nesta watches Elain sigh and blink her big doe eyes at Lana. She’s always been able to use those eyes on anybody for anything. “I just don’t understand why I’m the villain for expecting a little loyalty,” Elain says sweetly. “Especially when you take a look at this face.” She cups her round cheeks. “You know psychology. How could you abandon this face?”

Nesta’s jaw hangs open. “Are we still talking about me?” She remembers Cassian telling her the story behind Azriel ghosting Elain, and a pang of guilt and pity hits her. She still hasn’t talked with Elain about why Azriel left Velaris, and she knows she won’t be able to decide whether to spare Az or not until she does.

“So that’s my turn,” Elain finishes up. “Feyre can go next.”

Lana is writing something sharply on her notepad, but she nods coolly. “Feyre, how would you describe your relationship with your sisters?”

“Oh, we don’t have time for all of that,” Feyre laughs awkwardly and waves a hand.

Nesta agrees, but the look Lana gives Feyre tells her that yes, they do have time.

Gulping, Feyre glances around. “Well, I was born last, so I guess that made me the outsider of the family. I never had much in common with my sisters, but now that we’re older I… hoped that we would grow past that.”

Translation: she hoped that once she found her happy ending in Rhysand’s arms, poor little Nesta and Elain would happily assimilate into her new community of wealthy friends, putting the cherry on top of her perfect life. And while Elain did that exact thing, it’s always bothered Feyre that Nesta won’t do the same.

Feyre continues, “I admit I’m not the best at understanding Nesta. Elain and I get along fine now, but Nesta…” Feyre meets her eyes. “It’s like nothing we do is enough for her, but for some reason I can’t stop trying.”

“Whose fault is that?” Nesta mutters.

“You want her approval,” Lana hums, taking notes.

“Is that what it is?” Feyre looks away.

Nesta refrains from saying yes, that’s exactly what it is, and it’s not my problem if you keep looking for something I can’t give.

“What are your feelings about that, Nesta?” Lana turns her focus to her. “Remember that this is a safe space.”

It really isn’t, not with two siblings holding long term grudges against Nesta. But once and for all, she’s going to set the record straight. “I spent most of my life being a bad sister.” Nesta’s voice is apathetic, straightforward. “I let Feyre take the burden of providing for us even though I was the oldest, and I didn’t know how to be anything other than cruel to my family. So once I had the means to do so, I cut everyone off for all of our sakes. I still don’t regret it, because being a stranger is better than being a bad sister.”

In that way, Nesta is a bit like her mother. Nesta was angry after her death, but she knows she would have been even angrier if Magdalene Archeron had lived and continued to be a disappointing parent. In that way, both of them are wise for leaving their families when they did.

“Or you could just be a good sister,” Elain interrupts with a drawl.

Nesta smirks bitterly at her. “I’d rather die.”

Feyre takes in a breath. “Why? Why are you like that with us?” She blinks furiously, and Nesta can see the simmer of her emotions. “It was okay when we thought you hated everybody, but you don’t. You only hate me and Elain.”

Nesta looks to Lana for help, but her therapist is sitting this one out. She sighs through her nose. “I don’t hate you,” she says, even though they might never understand. The next line comes with great difficulty. “I’ve loved you since before I even knew what love was. But I don’t like you very much, Feyre, and you don’t like me, either. Please stop trying to change that.”

When she finally meets Feyre’s eyes, though, they’re glimmering with tears. “How can I stop trying to change that?” Feyre whispers. “How can I give up on us like that?”

For Nesta to give Feyre and Elain the relationship they want from her would require nothing but lies on her part. And as much as she wishes she was capable of lying about this, she can’t do it.

Looking away and down at her hands, Nesta mutters, “It’s not fun for me either, but it’s how I am. I can’t be easy or friendly with you. I hate watching you try to make me be easy or friendly.”

Nobody says anything to that, but when Nesta looks up again Lana gives her a remote nod that Feyre and Elain don’t catch. Thank you for your vulnerability, it says.

“You said something interesting, Nesta,” Lana breaks the silence. “Did you see your sisters as your responsibility to raise?”

Nesta shrugs. “I was the oldest,” she repeats.

“Your father was the oldest.”

“He wouldn’t do shit even if you held a gun to his head, so I was up next.” Though Nesta hadn’t done shit either. Neither had Elain, but the rules have always been different for her. Elain redeems herself to others by handing out sunny smiles and pretending to have the intelligence of a fawn.

Lana stares at Nesta until Nesta’s skin starts to heat. “What?” she says defensively.

Ignoring the other two women in the room, Lana leans forward. “You told me once early into our relationship that part of the reason you left Tennessee was to get away from your sisters. You said you were heartbroken when they ended up following you here.”

Nesta doesn’t breathe or look to see her sisters’ reactions.

“Now I’m going to ask: did you really want to get away from your sisters, or did you want to escape the feeling of failing them?”

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer, because to her they might as well be the same thing. Having Feyre and Elain around is like having a weight tied to her chest. The lingering guilt every time Feyre is in a room, her existence screaming I’m the reason you’re still alive. Elain’s constant expectations of unconditional support and loyalty, whether it’s reciprocated or not. It’s all so heavy. And it all goes back to the fact that the three of them were once just helpless children.

If she couldn’t take care of her sisters, how is she supposed to take care of any child, ever?

Nesta releases a weary sigh. “You’re going to bring this up the next time we have the baby talk, aren’t you?”

Lana’s eyes sparkle. “Don’t get ahead of yourself just yet.” But Nesta can see from where she sits that her therapist’s notepad is covered in bullet points.

***

“I need to use the bathroom.” Feyre is hopping back and forth on her feet once the session is over. “You guys head down to the parking lot without me.” She exits in a rush, leaving the two sisters alone. Nesta hisses in frustration, nearly chasing after Feyre so she won’t have to face the inevitable awkward conversation with Elain.

By the end of the session, it was Elain that broke and pleaded with Nesta, “Don’t do everything we want, then. Just keep doing better, the way you’ve already been doing. I’ll be happy with just that.”

Nesta was surprised that Elain had even noticed her efforts, but she retorted, “And how do you plan to do better?”

To which Elain twirled her hair and murmured something halfheartedly about, “I might be more open to taking criticism or whatever.”

Though it was the absolute bare minimum, it was still a relief for Nesta to hear Elain admit that she has flaws worth criticizing.

Now, Nesta clutches the straps of her purse and turns for the stairwell leading to the parking lot. Elain follows without comment.

Inside the stairwell, Nesta asks, “Have you spoken to Azriel since he left Velaris?”

Elain looks surprised at the sudden question, and doesn’t remember to be guarded when she answers, “No. Why?”

Nesta shrugs, her heels thumping loudly on the linoleum stairs. “Because I know what happened between you two. I know why he left.”

Elain halts midstep, grabbing Nesta’s arm and turning to face her with wide eyes. “What do you mean, you know? He told you?”

“He told Cassian, and Cassian told me.” Nesta hardly cares that she’s being a poor friend to Azriel by spilling all this to Elain, and continues, “If I had known he was such a coward, I would have kicked him out of our place a long time ago… but I figured I would get your input on it first.”

She’s never seen Elain look so genuinely pleading before. “Get my input on what?” Elain breathes. “What did he say about me? Was it something I did?”

At that torn face that borders on heartbroken, Nesta decides that she’ll do more than kick Azriel out of the cabin. She’ll kick him off the whole mountain.

She shoves Elain’s back to get Elain detached from her and moving down the stairs again, and as they walk, Nesta spills everything she knows. She tells Elain about Rhysand’s talent of shoving his nose into places it doesn’t belong, and how one conversation with him managed to convince Azriel to ditch Elain for good. She tells her about how instead of having a straightforward conversation with Elain, Azriel chose to leave the city and hide out in the mountains like a pussy. She might sound blunt, but Elain needs blunt. She needs to know the unfiltered truth of things.

By the time they reach the floor where their cars are parked, Elain is silent. “Did he really say that?” she finally asks quietly. “He said he wants me to hate him?”

“That’s what I heard.” After a moment, Nesta feels the need to add, “You should hate him, though. He fucked up bad.”

When Elain continues strolling for their cars without replying, concern bites at Nesta. “You are mad at him, right? And mad at Rhysand? You’re not going to forgive them, right?”

“I’m not a total pushover,” Elain snaps. She stares at the cement ground as they walk. “I’m just… more disappointed than anything else. He gave up so easily.” She chuckles without humor. “It sounds like he was looking for an excuse to get away from me.”

Nesta frowns. “I don’t think he would’ve spent so long moping around our house if he wanted to leave you.” Though they can never truly know what Azriel was thinking or feeling until he grows a pair and talks to Elain. Still, she shudders at having to defend him.

“I take it he doesn’t mope anymore?” Elain says.

Nesta doesn’t know how to answer that truthfully. She knows there’s more to Azriel than he lets her and Cassian see, and she knows he’s gotten better at keeping his feelings to himself. So she says, “It looks like he’s doing better, but I really don’t know.” They reach Elain’s car.

“Were you in love with him?” Nesta suddenly asks. Or worse, is she still in love with him?

Elain digs around for her keys in her purse. “You know how I am. Of course I was.”

“Not anymore, though?”

Elain looks up, keys now in hand. “It’s hard to still feel love for someone I haven’t talked to in two months.”

Then it wasn’t real love. Nesta is relieved, even though it doesn’t change the fact that Elain is hurting either way.

Elain jabs her keys at Nesta and says sharply, “Don’t you dare punish him for what he did. That’s for me to decide on.”

Nesta’s brow creases in refusal. “I’ll do what I need to do, and you do you.” She’ll have to be careful with her plotting, though, considering Azriel is Cassian’s brother.

“No.” Elain surprises Nesta with the force in her tone. “He’s your roommate and your friend. Keep treating him like it.”

Elain makes it sound easier than it is, and Nesta wants to argue until she sees Feyre heading down the parking lot toward them. “Fine,” she grumbles halfheartedly.

Elain gives her one final long look, not of threat but something else. “Thank you—for inviting us today.” That’s all she says before getting in the driver’s seat of her little red car. At the same time, Feyre catches up to them.

“Where are you parked?” Feyre pants as she approaches Nesta. She sounds a bit out of breath, like she ran to get here before Nesta could drive off alone.

Nesta points down the lot to where her scrappy old car is waiting for her, and Feyre straightens up with a grim smile. “I’ll walk you.”

Nesta knows that arguing isn’t worth it, so she allows Feyre to trail her the rest of the way to her car. Once they reach the old thing, Nesta gives a curt goodbye and heads straight for the driver’s door. Before she can touch the handle, Feyre attacks her from behind with a hug.

“Get off me, freak!” Nesta tries to jostle her way out of Feyre’s arms. She tries being nice to her sisters one time and this is what she gets—

Feyre only squeezes her tighter. “You don’t have to hug back. Just let me love you my way.”

Nesta squirms for another second before stilling. Swallowing tightly, she stares at the reflection of herself and Feyre in the car door window. One of her hands goes to where Feyre’s hands are clasped around her stomach, and she stands there without moving. She can’t remember the last time she shared affection with a family member like this, but it must have been before their mother died.

The warmth at Nesta’s back doesn’t leave, like Feyre is trying to pour all her understanding into the hug. Silently saying, I’m finally starting to get it.

In a way, Nesta is starting to get it, too. After all, how do sisters with such a complicated history begin to forgive each other?

Not by apologizing, but by doing better in the future.

***

On her way home, Nesta remembers at the last minute to stop by Gwyn’s apartment to pick up one of her sweaters. She doesn’t know when Gwyn started raiding her closet like it was a free mall, but she has a school event next week and doesn’t plan on letting her nicest clothes rot at Gwyn’s forever.

Nesta enters using the key beneath the doormat, knowing Gwyn is at work and won’t mind her stopping by. She scans the living and dining areas for a glimpse of brown cashmere, but only finds scattered books and a disorganized mess. Her fingers twitch with the urge to stop and tidy up the place, but she continues hunting for the sweater. Gwyn promised it would be waiting in plain sight for her.

Realizing the scatter-brained girl probably forgot to put the sweater out for her, Nesta pauses in the hallway leading to Gwyn’s bedroom and bites her lip. She doesn’t know if bedrooms are off limits or not, considering how often Gwyn and Emerie have barged into hers, but she knows she doesn’t want to make a second trip here just for a sweater.

Without giving it further thought, she strides into Gwyn’s room—

And yelps to find Gwyn on the bed.

Except she isn’t alone, and there’s definitely another body under the dark green blanket with her, and whoever it is definitely has their head between her legs.

Nesta spins away at the same time she hears Gwyn’s cry of surprise. She braces one hand against the doorjamb and presses the other to her freezing cold face, not having any words for what she just saw.

“Nesta?” Gwyn calls from behind her. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Um, have you seen my sweater? It’s the expensive one.” She’ll just grab it and leave. Or maybe she’ll just leave—yes, that sounds like a good idea.

“Nesta?” a new, deeper voice repeats.

Gwyn hisses, and Nesta freezes because she recognizes that voice. She wants to be wrong so badly, but she has to whirl back around to confirm for herself.

“Azriel?”

***

a/n: i decided to cut this chapter short and add an extra one to flesh out my silly little gwynriel subplot. so if there’s anything specific or random you wanna see happen in the next chapter tell me bc i might have space for prompts!!

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 a favor: @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 @moodymelanist @pixieelea

[persephone-plasmids]

Trying

A Danse and Nora fic

[Part 1]

[Read on AO3]

Danse woke up before the sun, his chest heavy with the memories of the night before. Nora had kissed him. But she’d also been drunk, so it hadn’t counted.

Of course, that didn’t stop him from reliving the moment in his mind over and over again. He’d hardly slept as he wondered what was worse: Nora remembering the kiss and regretting it, or forgetting about it and the two of them never addressing it again. He wasn’t sure what he could even hope for if she did remember. She’d never reciprocate his feelings. And he couldn’t fault her for that. He was a Synth. An abomination.

Danse scowled up at the ceiling before rolling out of bed, pulling his boots on, and leaving the partially destroyed house in Sanctuary where he now stayed. The settlement had turned into a place for all of Nora’s strays to reside; himself included.

Fog hung heavily in the early morning air as Danse began his normal jog around the perimeter of the settlement. He’d run up the rocky hills to make sure no Raiders had taken up residence overnight then splash through the river a few times to cool himself down before making the jog up the hill to the entrance of Vault 111.

Today, the sight of the large metal vault entrance only made his stomach turn. It reminded him of his interaction with Nora the day before. She’d been grieving the loss of her husband. She’d gotten drunk. And she’d kissed him.

Had he taken advantage of her compromised state? He tried to assure himself that he hadn’t. He’d pushed her away. He’d been the one to stop things before they went further. But he also couldn’t deny that he’d kissed her back. That he’d enjoyed kissing her back. And he couldn’t pretend he hadn’t spent the entire rest of the evening replaying the kiss in extreme detail, imagining what it could have been like if it had gone further.

Danse shook his head, ashamed at his own thoughts as he jogged back down the hill to Sanctuary.

The sun was beginning to melt away the heavy fog and by the time Danse had showered and donned his Brotherhood jumpsuit for the day, the haze was nothing but a distant memory.

There’s no avoiding it forever. I’ve got to go check on Nora, Danse thought to himself as he exited his home and stepped out into the streets of Sanctuary. Settlers were just starting to make their way to their assigned tasks for the day. Some held rifles to guard the perimeter while others grabbed gardening tools. Danse rolled his eyes as Hancock stumbled through the streets with a dazed smile on his face.

“Just getting in, Hancock?” Danse asked, the disapproval heavy in his voice.

“It’s my duty as mayor of Goodneighbor to check on my citizens every now and then,” Hancock replied, the lazy smile still on his scarred features.

“Funny how it’s only the patrons in The Third Rail you seem to check on,” Danse answered.

He hadn’t intended on harassing the Ghoul today. In all honesty, he was trying to be better. Mostly for Nora’s sake, but also because of his own revelation that he wasn’t as purely human as he’d always thought. Danse hated being a hypocrite. But purging his deeply ingrained prejudices from his mind was proving much more difficult than he wanted to admit.

“It’s not my fault I know how to have a good time, Danse,” Hancock said. “If you ever want to loosen the leash Maxson put on you, you’re welcome to join us.”

Danse shook his head at the Ghoul but didn’t respond. He knew he wouldn’t have anything kind to say. Instead, he made his way to Nora’s house, ignoring the stinging reminder from Hancock that he was no longer a member of the Brotherhood.

Standing in front of the door to Nora’s home, Danse squared his shoulders, took a deep breath, and knocked. His body told him he needed to leave immediately, because whether or not she remembered the kiss, this interaction would be painful. Seeing her would remind him just how incredible it felt to kiss her… and that he couldn’t do it again. But he didn’t run. He stayed right where he was.

His heart hammered in his chest as the door knob turned, but it wasn’t Nora who greeted him. Instead, Deacon stood in the doorway wearing Nora’s old flowery apron over his usual T-shirt and jeans, raising his ginger eyebrows behind his sunglasses.

“Morning sunshine,” the spy said with a grin.

“Deacon?” Danse asked, his confusion slowly turning to anger as it always seemed to. He needed to work on that. “What are you doing in Nora’s house this early?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know, soldier?” Deacon asked. “But a gentleman never kisses and tells.”

Danse set his jaw firmly as he stared at the man in front of him. He was already calculating how much physical damage it would do if he punched Deacon right then and there. The spy would live. But Nora would never forgive Danse. So he refrained.

“Oh man, I can see all those little Brotherhood cogs turning in your brain. It would be adorable if it wasn’t so sad,” Deacon said with a laugh. “At ease, soldier. I was totally kidding. Just wanted to get a rise out of you. I didn’t realize it would be quite so effective.”

Danse could hear the laughter in Deacon’s voice, but it was muted by the sound of his own blood rushing through his body.

He definitely needed to work on his anger management skills.

“Where is Nora?” Danse asked simply, refusing to acknowledge just how close he’d been to getting into a physical altercation with Deacon.

Danse was usually close to getting into a fight with Deacon, but the idea that the spy had slept with Nora was definitely the thing that would have pushed him over the edge… had it been true.

“I feel like out of the two of us, you’re the one who should know she headed over to the Prydwyn before dawn,” Deacon answered, turning around and heading back into Nora’s kitchen without another look in Danse’s direction.

The Paladin followed the spy and perched on one of the barstools at the counter.

Deacon, still wearing the flowery apron, was stirring mirelurk eggs in a frying pan.

“Nora went to the Prydwyn?” Danse asked, his mind trying to play catch up. “Why?”

“Personally, I don’t think she needs to keep things friendly with the Brotherhood of Bigots anymore now that The Institute is destroyed, but she said something about an open line of communication between the factions and blah, blah, blah.” Deacon shook his head. “Maxson said he wanted to meet with her about something or other. Probably wants to start a fun petition forbidding Ghouls from speaking or something.”

“Maxson asked for her?” Danse repeated. This gave him pause.

There was a time when Danse had worshipped Maxson. He’d thought the man could do no wrong. That was, of course, until Maxson had wanted him killed for being a Synth. Danse could understand the difficult position Maxson had been placed in, but after their years of friendship, he still had a hard time with just how quickly the Elder had turned on him.

He also saw the way Maxson looked at Nora when Danse had still been allowed aboard the Prydwyn. The Elder was young and Nora was beautiful. It only made sense that he’d look at her the way he did. But Danse didn’t like it, even though he was fairly certain the only reason he was still alive was because Nora had been the one to convince Maxson to spare him. Danse wasn’t sure anyone else could have swayed the Elder the way she did.

“Do I sense a love triangle? Because you know I love some juicy gossip,” Deacon said, grinning over at the Paladin and plopping some eggs onto a plate for him.

“That’s inappropriate, civilian,” Danse said, staring at the eggs in front of him and wondering why on earth Deacon would ever make him food. They hated each other.

“Hate to break it to you, tin can, but you’re a civilian now too,” Deacon said, taking a seat beside Danse with his own plate of eggs.

“You and I are not the same,” Danse emphasized, taking a bite out of the eggs. They were surprisingly good.

“You’re completely right,” Deacon agreed, though Danse could tell from his tone that he wasn’t going to like what came next. “I’ve been able to let go of my bigoted ways, while you still look at Hancock and Valentine like they’re Mirelurk scat on your boot.”

“That’s…” Danse began, but he didn’t know what to really say. Deacon wasn’t wrong. Danse wasn’t doing a great job of changing his deeply ingrained beliefs.

“Admitting you have a problem is the first step, champ,” Deacon said, with a soft pat on Danse’s shoulder.

It would have been a kind gesture, if the spy hadn’t immediately snorted from trying to hold back his laughter.

“I’m… trying,” Danse managed to say, even if it felt like injecting a Stimpack directly into his temple to utter the words.

Deacon glanced over at Danse for a moment, but it was hard for the Paladin to read his expression behind the sunglasses. He had to remind himself that this was probably the reason the spy always wore them.

“A good first step would be to actually spend some time with the people you hate,” Deacon offered, being surprisingly helpful. “You might find that you actually have some fun with Hancock. Plus, you and Valentine are a bit more alike than you might think. He’s a giant stick in the mud too.”

Danse huffed under his breath and simply said, “Noted,” before taking another bite of eggs.

The two men chewed in silence for a moment before the front door opened and Nora strode in wearing the all-black Brotherhood of Steel jumpsuit reserved for high-ranking officials.

Danse’s eyes involuntarily roamed over just how perfectly the jumpsuit fit her curves, though he immediately hated himself for the very visceral reaction the image gave him.

“Deacon Marie Jones! What are you doing in my apron?” Nora asked dramatically, walking up behind the spy and wrapping her arms around him in a familiar embrace.

This did nothing to lessen Danse’s animosity towards the spy.

“Your middle name is Marie?” Danse asked.

“I just make up names for him,” Nora replied. “Since he won’t tell anyone his real name.”

Deacon leaned backward into Nora’s embrace as she held him tightly before finally releasing him. Danse hated how casual their physical contact was. She wasn’t like that with the Paladin.

“I thought we agreed the apron looks better on me,” Deacon said.

“Everything looks better on you, Deacon,” Nora agreed with a laugh, walking over to the frying pan and scooping a few eggs for herself. “I bet even this ridiculous black jumpsuit would look better on you.”

Danse refrained from pointing out how false that statement was.

He wasn’t sure he’d ever seen someone look so good in a jumpsuit before.

“Give yourself some credit, Charmer,” Deacon said, his voice as smooth as ever. “There are only so many people who can pull off a dog collar.”

“It’s not a dog collar,” Danse mumbled, finding himself irrationally annoyed by the comment.

Nora’s lips quirked up into a grin as she set her plate down and walked over to Danse. The Paladin swiveled in his barstool to face her but he didn’t anticipate just how close she’d get to him. Nora walked right up to Danse, positioning herself between his knees as she grinned down at him.

Danse swallowed hard as his dark eyes met hers. She took one finger and hooked it under the metal ring at the neck of Danse’s Brotherhood uniform and gave it a soft tug. She didn’t manage to pull him closer from his sitting position, but it did cause her to take another step closer to him, now standing squarely between his thighs.

“What exactly would you call it then, Paladin?” Nora asked, raising a challenging eyebrow at him.

Danse felt like his heart might actually beat out of his chest as he stared up at her. She still had a firm grasp on the clasp at his neck and he worried she’d be able to visibly see the nervous way he swallowed.

“It’s… It’s an attachment for the Power Armor,” he managed to choke out.

He hated that Deacon was here to witness just how easily Nora could set him off balance.

“I guess your big brown puppy dog eyes just make the term ‘dog collar’ feel more fitting,” Nora answered with a smirk.

He could feel the heat of her hips against his thighs but tried with every fiber of his being to ignore it. Their close proximity was only making it more difficult for him to focus.

Thankfully, Nora released her grasp on the metal ring and stepped back around the counter to retrieve her eggs. “Thanks for the breakfast, Deeks,” Nora said casually, as if she hadn’t just upended Danse’s entire world.

“Just paying off my debt to society,” Deacon said, finishing his own plate off and rinsing it in the sink. “I should have never suggested that game of strip poker.”

Danse’s eyes widened at this comment but Nora just shook her head with a laugh.

“He bet me that I couldn’t convince a Diamond City guard to give me their uniform.”

“I didn’t take into account that she wouldn’t use stealth to get what she wanted,” Deacon said with a scowl. “I still think it’s cheating if you use your feminine wiles.”

“You’re just mad that you have to make me breakfast every Tuesday for a month,” Nora said with a dismissive wave of her hand.

Deacon shook his head and grinned. “Well I’m off to go start some rumors around Diamond City that Piper is actually a Ghoul. Wish me luck.”

���You’ll need it,” Nora replied before the spy disappeared, leaving her and Danse alone.

Danse took a deep breath, wondering if he wanted to come right out and ask Nora if she remembered what had happened the night before, or if it would be better to just ignore it.

He decided on the coward’s way out.

“What did Maxson want?” Danse asked, trying to sound uninterested.

“Ugh, that man,” Nora began, exasperation heavy in her voice. “He wanted to try to convince me to pledge my exclusive loyalty to the Brotherhood again. But I told him, for the millionth time, I’m not going to abandon The Railroad or The Minutemen. There’s no reason we can’t all play nice.”

“I’m sure he loved that,” Danse answered, a genuine smile now playing on his lips.

“He threw a bit of a tantrum,” Nora agreed. “Luckily no one was around to see it. He had me meet him in his private quarters this time.”

Danse raised an eyebrow, still trying to pretend like he wasn’t incredibly interested in this particular point. “Oh?”

“I think he thought it might intimidate me if we were alone,” Nora laughed. “He poured me a drink, stood in front of his Brotherhood of Steel flag, and tried to look super intimidating.”

“And?”

“And it didn’t work,” Nora said, giving Danse one of the smiles that made her eyes crinkle in the corners while his heart melted into a puddle inside of him. “My affection isn’t that easily swayed.”

“Of course,” Danse responded simply.

He could feel Nora’s eyes on him as he looked back down at his now empty plate. He was running out of reasons to be in her kitchen but he wasn’t quite ready to leave yet.

“How are you feeling?” Danse began cautiously. “Do you have a headache from that bourbon last night?”

That was casual, right? That was something a totally normal friend would say whether or not they’d kissed the night before… wasn’t it?

“I had a bit of a headache this morning,” Nora began. She was pushing the eggs around on her plate with her fork but not taking a bite. Her eyes were no longer on Danse; now she seemed laser focused on the food in front of her. “I told you I wasn’t that drunk.”

Danse’s cheeks instantly flushed at her words.

She remembered.

She remembered and she really was lucid enough to know that she was kissing him.

What did that mean? Did he ask her about it? Did he ask if she regretted it or did he even dare to hope that she actually somehow felt something for him other than friendship or fondness?

“You can hold your liquor well,” was all the Paladin said, also staring intently at his own plate.

If anyone had walked by the scene in the kitchen, they’d think the two were Synths whose recall codes had been read to them.

The silence between them pressed on for a few moments before Nora softly cleared her throat.

“Listen, Danse… I’m sorry about what happened. You were totally right that I wasn’t thinking straight and… I shouldn’t have done that. I’m sorry.”

Danse felt his entire chest tighten at her words.

She regretted it. She wished it hadn’t happened. He’d made her uncomfortable.

And now that he knew she remembered everything, he felt even worse for kissing her back. What could she possibly think of him now? That he was just like the rest of the Wastelanders; ready to take advantage of an inebriated woman at the drop of a hat?

What did he say to make this better?

“I’m… I shouldn’t have… engaged,” he said quietly. It wasn’t what he wanted to say, but Danse had never been good with things like emotions. Synth or not, talking about his feelings wasn’t something he ever thought he’d be comfortable with.

Danse dared a glance up at Nora who was still looking down at her plate. She was frowning with something like disappointment in her eyes.

“I should probably get changed out of this jumpsuit,” she said after another moment of awkward silence. “Preston has a place nearby that he wants me to check out to set up a possible settlement.”

“Of course,” Danse responded, a bit too quickly. “I’ve got some work to do on my power armor.”

Nora nodded as Danse stood up and made his way towards the door.

Before he touched the handle, he heard Nora’s voice, soft and hesitant.

“Would you… want to come with me?”

[respectable-username]

Oh look, another quick one-shot! This time, a quiet scene between Grian and Mumbo.

Read on AO3 or keep reading below

---

<Grian> Hey Mumbo

<Grian> Where are you?

The pinging of his communicator dragged Mumbo from his redstone-induced haze. He put down the stack of repeaters in his hands to ping the coordinates of this latest project back to Grian.

It was only a couple minutes before a burst of rockets could be heard from the sky above, followed shortly by a Grian swooping in to land with perfect ease amongst the mini chest monster that had sprung up beside Mumbo's contraption.

"Hey G," said Mumbo, noticing the lack of spark in Grian's eyes. "Everything alright?"

"Do you mind if I just sit and watch for a bit?" asked Grian, already starting to sit down in the grass amongst the shulker boxes.

"Of course not," said Mumbo.

"Thanks," said Grian, leaning back against a box as he drew his knees to his chest.

Mumbo gave Grian one last concerned look before turning back to his massive contraption.

He was almost finished the next module of the machine. He just needed to figure out the timings on these last few repeaters.

If this signal goes through there it should take 2 ticks. Which means that signal needs to take longer. Better make it 3 ticks total. Then that should trigger this one 2 ticks later. Yes, that should be right.

Mumbo stood back, taking in one last look at the wiring, crossed his fingers, and pulled the lever.

The whole module broke.

Mumbo sighed, walking back over to the machine. It looked like the second piston fired too early, causing it all to get out of sync. That means he had to add another tick of delay there and another there. That should do it.

Mumbo tore down the broken part of the contraption and started rebuilding with the required changes.

"How do you stay motivated to keep going when your redstone keeps failing?" asked a small voice from behind him.

"Trial and error is just part of redstoning," said Mumbo, turning to face Grian with a smile. "Or should I say trial and error, and error, and error, and error, and small success, and error, and error, and error."

"That sounds awful," said Grian.

"It's just part of the fun," said Mumbo, gesticulating with the spare pistons in his hands. "You expect things to fail, so you keep the bits you test as small as possible, and use the way it fails to figure out how to make it work next time. And then when it does finally all work, it's the best feeling ever!"

"I failed and now everyone hates me," said Grian suddenly, pulling his knees closer to his chest.

"Oh Grian," Mumbo said, putting down the spare components and walking over to sit down and hug his long arms around Grian's small body. "I'm sure they don't hate you."

"I messed up and now they're all mad at me and they keep sending messages about how I messed up and hurt them and I don't know what to do and I'm so sorry but I don't know how to fix it and..."

Grian's train of thought was cut off by a sob. Mumbo pulled him in closer as the floodgates broke open.

Grian buried his face in Mumbo's lapel. He knew he should be worried about ruining Mumbo's suit with his tears and snot, but, well, it's Mumbo. Mumbo doesn't care. Mumbo doesn't get angry. Mumbo's just so... Mumbo.

"What happened?" asked Mumbo gently, stroking Grian's hair as the stream of tears slowly let up.

"I made it all about me again," said Grian, voice slightly muffled by Mumbo's shoulder. "I put so much time into planning the whole thing, so much time into making sure everything would play out correctly and would make sure everyone had a good time, and the one time I ad libbed, it was on something entirely selfish and now everybody's mad at me. And they should be. I can't believe I broke from my plan."

"Have you said sorry yet?" asked Mumbo kindly.

"Haven't had the time," Grian replied. "The meeting ended and I got a half dozen private messages and I freaked out and came right here."

They sat together in silence as the cogs turned in Mumbo's brain.

"Is there a way to make the selfish thing apply to everyone?" Mumbo eventually said. "Then it won't be selfish anymore."

"I don't know," said Grian.

"Well," said Mumbo, pausing again to think, "could you ask the others how you could do that?"

"What do you mean?" asked Grian, looking up from Mumbo's shoulder.

"I mean, you always plan so much of everything by yourself, Grian," said Mumbo. "You don't have to do it all. If the others are the ones who've recognised the mistake, maybe they'll have an idea of how to fix it."

"But why would they want to help me after I just bungled everything?" asked Grian.

"Because it was one mistake, and because they're your friends," said Mumbo. "I mean, you said they private messaged you about the issue, right? It's not like they've locked you in the stocks outside Town Hall and started throwing rotten vegetables at you!"

Grian let out a small chuckle. "Not yet anyway," he said.

"So, why don't you message the group, say you're sorry, and ask how you can fix it?" said Mumbo.

Grian curled back into himself again. "Because I'm scared," he said. "What if things go wrong? What if I say something to make it even worse?"

"And pigs could fly in the next update," said Mumbo. "But we can deal with that problem when we get to it."

"Hasn't Zedaph already made pigs fly?" said Grian.

"He did what?!" said Mumbo.

"He shot them with shulkers I think," said Grian.

"That's ridiculous,"  Mumbo said with a smile. "Anyway, back on topic. Let's try writing that message, ok?"

Grian pulled out his communicator, temporarily set it to only send to himself, then hesitated.

"What if I send the message and it doesn't fix anything?" said Grian. "What if everyone still hates me?"

"Well, I don't hate you," said Mumbo. "I'll still be here. You're one of my best friends, G. Even if everything else falls apart, I'll always be here for you, ok?"

Grian nodded. He took a deep breath and pulled up his communicator again.

He typed out his message. Then edited it. Then edited it again. Then undid half his edits. Then fixed the 'to' line. Then hit send.

Then put the communicator back in his pocket and crossed his arms against his chest.

"Good work, Grian," said Mumbo with a smile, squeezing his fellow Hermit.

"I hate this," said Grian. "I hate the waiting. I've already thought of three better ways I could have worded that message."

His communicator pinged.

"I don't wanna look," said Grian.

"Take as much time as you need," said Mumbo.

His communicator kept pinging.

Grian took a deep breath, then another. He pulled open his communicator and looked at the screen.

And burst out crying.

"What happened?!" said Mumbo, alarmed.

"They... they accepted my apology," Grian said between sobs, smiling through his tears as he faced the small screen towards Mumbo. "They don't hate me."

Mumbo relaxed. "See, I told you so," he said warmly, squeezing the small Hermit again. Grian gently pushed him in retaliation.

"I can't believe they're all being so nice after I was so thoughtless," said Grian, trying to wipe away the tears with the sleeve of his jumper.

"Of course they're being nice," said Mumbo. "You made one mistake, and now you're trying to fix it. They know you're a good person, G. One mistake doesn't make you a failure."

"Thank you so much Mumbo," said Grian. "Just, thank you for being there and for being so... so Mumbo-y."

"Any time, G," said Mumbo. "You know I'll always be here for you, no matter what."

"Can I just stay here for a minute?" asked Grian, resting his head back against Mumbo's shoulder. "It's just... it's just all a lot."

"As long as you like," said Mumbo.

And so they sat there, as the sun set in the distance and the wind ruffled the grass around them, the half-built contraption throwing strange shadows across the ground. It wasn't working, yet, but it would be. It would be with a little bit more trial and error.

[subjecta5newtella]

you know that trope where person a is having a really hard time and person b spends time with them to calm them down at night and they are about to leave so person a can get some sleep but person a grabs their hand and asks them to stay. you know that trope. but it’s nalby in the glade

this was supposed to be like. 200 words. the all-consuming love for pre-thomas glade dynamics hit me and now it's 2.3k. god help me.

Alby tries to tell himself it’s just habit that brings him to the Map Room at the same time every day, not some kind of ritual or anything. Surely it’s normal to hate a break in routine, to feel just a little off-balance when something requires his attention and he doesn’t arrive in time to walk to dinner with the Runners.

All the Runners. Definitely not one particular Runner. The second-in-command shouldn’t be playing favorites.

He’s been late the last couple days, tasked with shuttling the new Greenie around when Nick needs to attend to other things, but the kid has attached himself to a group of the Builders to the point where Alby feels like he can leave him for a while (and thank god for that, honestly, because he’s one of the ones that talks all the time when he’s nervous).

He watches the Runners file out of the Map Room one by one, but Minho comes out last and locks the door and there’s still one missing.

“Where’s—“ Alby starts, but Minho cuts him off before he can even get the question out.

“Finished his map early and headed off. He’s been weird all day.”

“Why?”

Minho shrugs. “Fuck if I know, dude. You know how hard it is to get answers out of that guy when he doesn't want to talk? Might work for you, though.”

There are a hell of a lot of implications there, a lot of observations he’s made that Alby hadn’t noticed him making, but Minho isn’t in charge of the Runners for no reason. Talking to him is easier once you remember that, as much as he sometimes makes it hard.

“I’ll try,” Alby says, and sets off to find Newt.

Newt’s not in the first place he looks, which is probably good because that particular spot behind the Homestead is where Alby had found the wreckage of him one time in the early days, a time bad enough that they just don’t speak of it. He’s not in the gardens either, and as Alby treks back across the Glade to head towards the trees, he curses Newt’s tendency to vanish when he’s upset. It could be worse; he’s not picking fights or breaking shit or any of the other, more destructive coping mechanisms Alby’s seen from some of the Gladers, but since the anxiety doesn’t go away until he finds Newt, he wishes Newt was a little less opposed to being found.

Alby finally finds him just past the area where most of the Gladers sleep, half in the woods but not quite. He’s brought his sleeping bag with him as well, as though he expects to stay there until morning, as though he thinks his wouldn’t be one of the most visible absences possible for the rest of the evening. He’s staring up at the trees, flat on his back and face still a little red, and when Alby comes to sit next to him he turns his head and pushes himself up into a sitting position, but doesn’t say anything.

Newt’s an odd creature sometimes. Alby knows him better than anyone else, but there are still times when he’s not sure if the best thing to do is get him to talk or leave him alone. Maybe this time the right thing to do is not to talk, but with every second the quiet feels more and more like a weight pressing down, and Alby breaks.

“What’s going on?”

Newt won’t look at him for a moment, just at his own hands, but then he seems to come to some kind of decision and makes eye contact. “I don’t think there’s a way out of here,” he says, and then everything spills out of him like bile or blood. “I think Minho thinks the same thing, he just doesn’t want to admit it. And that feels bad all the time but it feels worse when there’s a new Greenie, because it’s bad enough that there’s another kid stuck here with us, but then we’re supposed to give them hope. They find out about the Runners and they get told we’re looking for a way out, and they start to think it’s actually possible.”

And that…. well. Alby doesn’t begin to know what to say to that. “Are you sure it’s not?”

“I mean, no, I can’t say with absolute certainty or anything, but... it just repeats. I think we’ve found everything we’re gonna find.”

Alby doesn’t really do optimism—he’s not as much of a pessimist as Newt is sometimes, more of a realist if anything—but he can’t let that linger, can’t even look directly at it for too long.

“So you don’t know for sure. Which means it might all be fine, and maybe tomorrow one of you will figure out something new, and we’ll all get out of here.”

“It’s not that bloody simple,” Newt snaps, and Alby bites back a retort, because he’s fucking trying, okay?

Instead he just says, “I know. Just... trying to help.”

Newt sighs. “Yeah, sorry. That wasn’t fair. Been a bad day, that’s all. Bad couple days.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You weren’t the one who put us here. Unless I’m missing something, in which case you might want to admit to it now while I’m too tired to kill you.” And sure, it’s almost all a joke, but Alby can’t help but feel like it’s a little bit true. For all that Newt is kind, for as much as he cares about every single person in the Glade, or maybe because of all those things, he has a hatred for the Creators like nothing else Alby’s ever seen from him.

Still, he’s pretty sure he’s safe from that kind of threat, or at least as safe as someone with no recollection of their past can be, so he says, “Not as far as I know.”

Newt’s quiet for a minute, and then he says, “What if it was one of us?”

“Why would we put ourselves here if it was?”

Newt shrugs. “I guess.”

He falls silent after that, and this time Alby lets him stay that way, at least for a while. Eventually, though, he checks his watch and realizes they can’t wait any longer if they want to eat, and starving isn’t exactly going to do Newt’s mood any good.

“Alright, you need to eat before dinner’s over. And shower, and then you can continue staring at nothing if you really want.”

“That genius for planning is why you’re second-in-command, huh?” Newt says with an asymmetrical smile, and Alby says, “Sure,” because sometimes Nick’s justifications for it don’t make a lot of sense to him either.

He gets to his feet and turns to pull Newt up with him, and they head for dinner. Frypan gives them a look for being late, and Minho spares a glance, eyes flicking from Newt to Alby before he nods just a little, but no one says anything about the way they arrive after everyone and as a matched set. They’ve all just got enough of their own problems, maybe. A lot of eyes still on the Greenie, too.

After dinner and showers and Alby spending the whole walk back fighting the urge to tuck the chunk of hair that’s fallen out of Newt’s mess of a bun back into place, they end up in the same spot, mostly hidden from where the rest of the Gladers are setting up for the night.

This time, Alby chooses the second option. He waits to see if Newt will talk, and when he doesn’t, he leaves the silence alone. It’s not a comfortable emptiness, not when everything Newt had said earlier still lingers, but pushing any further seems like it might hurt more than mend.

That’s one possible answer, at least. Another is that he’s scared to lean too hard on whatever it is between them for fear that it might break. A third is that he’s afraid of all the things that Newt might say. So he waits, and he hopes that his presence is any kind of reassurance.

Eventually, though, night starts to set in and he can’t justify keeping Newt awake any longer. He goes to stand up, but Newt’s hand shoots out to grab his wrist and good god, Alby sometimes forgets how fast he can move.

“Don’t leave.” Newt says, and Alby shakes his head.

“You should get some rest. Don’t want you running the Maze tired tomorrow.”

Newt says, “You being here doesn’t prevent me from resting,” which is true, sure, but not something Alby had been ready to assume. You don’t set up for the night in the middle of the woods if you want company, at least not in his own experience of things, but if Newt wants him to stay, what other choice can he make?

“Can I at least go get my own sleeping bag?”

Newt’s fingers uncurl in response, and Alby gently tugs his wrist away, going to collect his things. On the way back he runs into Nick, making the rounds before bed, which is a thing Alby usually accompanies him on except that he’s been a little distracted.

Nick’s gaze drops to the sleeping bag and pillow in Alby’s arms, and Alby mentally curses the sense of order that had led him to sleep in the same place since the beginning, meaning that now any kind of rearrangement looks unusual.

“Is everything okay?” Nick asks, brow furrowed.

Alby doesn’t lie to Nick. He doesn’t lie in general, really, but especially not to Nick because the Glade doesn’t function if communication between them breaks down. But this... he’s not ready to tell Nick what Newt suspects. It’s still only a suspicion, one that could easily be proved wrong, and he’s not ready to damage morale that badly without proof.

So he lies, or at least omits part of the truth. “Yeah, everything’s fine. Newt’s just in a mood, and I’m keeping an eye on him to make sure he’s not gonna be out of it in the Maze tomorrow.” There’s no point in trying to say it like he’d do this for any other Runner, not with the way he and Newt have been bound since the early days by something still unvoiced, but he can still pretend at least a little.

Nick knows there’s no truth to that last part at least, but Alby knows how much time he spends picking his battles, so he’s not surprised when Nick just nods. “Sounds good. Don’t want him getting injured.”

“Yeah. Sorry for ditching nighttime rounds.”

“It’s fine. You might have to take the Greenie tomorrow if the supply meeting goes over, so we’ll call it even.”

It’s an empty threat, given that Alby’s most useful skills as a leader lie in allotment and record-keeping, but he takes the way out Nick’s offering him. “Fine.”

Nick nods. “Alright, go ahead. Deal with whatever you’re dealing with.”

“Thanks,” Alby says, and heads back to the space in the trees.

Newt looks up when he approaches, propping himself up on his elbows. He mostly just looks tired now, which is an improvement at least, even if it doesn’t do wonders for Alby’s confidence in sending him out into the Maze in the morning. “Forgot you’re supposed to have a job to do. Wouldn’t have stolen you from Nick if I remembered.”

Alby spreads out his sleeping bag, laying down on top of it. It’s too warm in the Glade to sleep inside it, which kind of feels like an oversight on someone’s part. “I ran into him on the way back, it’s fine. He’s threatening to make me take over with the Greenie if the meeting tomorrow runs long, but it’s probably an empty threat. Hopefully.”

Newt worms his way close enough to bump Alby with a shoulder. “Be nice to the new kid, Albert.”

“I’m trying, he just talks so much.”

“Can’t be worse than Kuo.”

Alby snorts. “You haven’t met him.”

“I met him the first full day he was here!”

“For three minutes! And it’s not like he even asks a ton of questions, I can either answer those or deflect fine, but he’ll just say things and I have no idea how I’m supposed to react to them.”

“I’m sure he’s just scared.”

“Yeah, I know. I think he’s gonna get absorbed into the Builders soon enough anyway, he’s already halfway there.”

“That helps.”

“Yeah. I keep hoping that Nick will get that I’m shit at this, but I guess sometimes there aren’t other options.”

Newt shrugs. “You’re good at plenty of other things, and you haven’t killed a Greenie yet.”

“I don’t think I like ‘yet’ in that sentence.”

“I’m confident in your ability to not kill a Greenie. Better?”

“Yeah, sure.” Alby readjusts his pillow, doing his best not to acknowledge the root under his head because proximity takes priority over comfort right now. “Sorry. Didn’t come back just to complain.”

“Nah, it’s okay. Took my mind off everything a little.”

“Are you gonna be okay tomorrow?” Alby asks, knowing as he does that it’s probably only going to make Newt mad, but he can’t just not ask.

Sure enough, there’s a bite to it when Newt says, “I’ll be fine,” that hadn’t been there a second ago.

“Don’t get pissed off at me for caring about you. It’s just dangerous out there, and—“

“Yeah, I have figured that out, actually. I can take care of myself.”

“I never said you couldn’t, don’t start acting like I did.”

“No, you just—“ Newt stops himself and sighs, looking away. “I’m sorry. I’m… yeah. Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” Alby reaches out and interweaves his fingers with Newt’s, half-expecting him to pull away and ready to let go if he does. He doesn’t.

When he wakes before dawn with Newt’s face pressed into his shoulder, Alby thinks he could almost be happy staying in the Glade like this, but only almost. One of them has to believe they’ll get out of here, and if that means he has to play at optimism for a while, it’s one more role he’ll do his best to handle.

[midautumnnightdream]

Family

For Cosette Appreciation Week

*

Cosette doesn’t remember much of the day her father died.

She has no idea how long she spent kneeling on the bare floor, her cheek pressed against the rough fabric, her hands clasping a larger one, that only recently had been stroking her head. She vaguely recalls Marius speaking to the portress. The doctor had been called back, though for what purpose, she couldn’t say. When Marius helped her to her feet, she could hardly stand without support.

Upon re-entering No. 6 Rue des Filles-du-Calvaire, she had gone straight to her chambers, leaving Marius to explain matters to his aunt and grandfather. He had followed her soon, in a state of great agitation: Cosette had watched him marching back and forth, filling the air with rambling, disjointed explanations that she barely listened to, and understood even less. The flood of broken self-recriminations surrounded her like an ocean, and she knew that she should care, but her papa was gone, and she felt cold and helpless and so very alone.

At some point, Marius had turned to her, and whatever he had seen in her face had stopped him short. There was something indescribable in his expression, an odd mix of realisation and dismay. He had reached out his hand, as if to touch her, and glanced at the door, as if to flee. In the end he had done neither, instead perching on the edge of the bed, several feet away from her. They sat together in silence for a long time.

Grandfather Gillenormand had been full of effusive sympathy and condolences. He had offered to take care of the funeral arrangements, but Marius had corralled him with great care, and had cited the wishes of the deceased, that a minimal fuss should be made. In the end, the funeral party had consisted only of the four members of the household, joined by Toussaint, whom Marius had invited on Cosette's behalf. It had also been Marius, who encouraged the rest of their party to say their farewells after the church service, leaving the young couple in their privacy at the graveside; and it was Marius, who had penned the odd little verse on the otherwise unmarked gravestone. Cosette had stood silent and numb, all the words she wished she could say threatened to choke her. Only tears flowed.

The morning after the funeral, Marius had finally explained it all; slow and hesitant in a way that carried nothing of his earlier agitation. In brief words he had explained the nature of her papa’s best kept secret, the confession he had made and the facts he had left out. Without sparing a single detail, he had described Jean Valjean's actions in saving his life, and his own actions in driving him away. At times, the familiar tone of self-recrimination would seep into his voice again, but then he would break off mid-sentence, seeming more ashamed of that bitter flood of guilt than the actions themselves. Cosette couldn’t say she wasn’t relieved: she was quite sure she didn’t have it in her to reassure him.

She should be angry, she knew. At Marius, certainly, probably even at papa. Marius certainly seemed to expect it from her, but she didn’t have it in her to conform to his expectations either. Perhaps she was angry, but her heart was heavy with exhaustion and grief, and she desperately didn’t want to be alone. When Marius placed a tentative hand on her wrist, she turned, wrapped her arms around him and wept.

Marius walks on eggshells around her after that day. Where before he would declaim expansively on any and all topics with an air of authority, he now seems to hesitate on every word, his eyes searching hers for approval. He’s attentive to her every mood, fidgeting around her like a great dark guardian, and yet disappearing instantly when she gives the slightest indication of wanting to be alone. She has no idea where he goes when he leaves her. He seems lost. It is both a relief and a concern.

Right at this moment, he’s doing a poor job of pretending to read a newspaper, his gaze flickering over to Cosette in her window seat and to the long forgotten needlework in her lap. Cosette can feel the weight of his eyes on her, distracting her from her reverie.

“What are you thinking about?” he asks eventually, his voice painfully hesitant. Cosette sighs and tears her gaze away from the window.

“My mother,” she answers honestly.

“Oh?” Cautious, encouraging.

“Papa used to talk to me about her when I was little. Then he stopped. I suppose he thought once I was older, I might start asking questions he couldn’t answer.”

“Do you remember her at all?” Marius asks.

Cosette shakes her head. “I don’t remember much of my childhood. I think I remember being held and I know it must have been my mother, who sang to me and rocked me to sleep. After...” She hesitates. “I was fostered, I think, or maybe just left behind. I was terribly unhappy there. Then  papa came and took me away.” It was so strange and dark and confusing, that part of her life, filled with bizarre recollections, many of which must have surely been just nightmares of her childish mind. She had never liked thinking about it and papa hadn’t liked talking about it. Now, she supposes she will never know.

“I don’t remember my mother either,” Marius says suddenly. “At least not well. I remember what she looked like, but that might be just her picture on grandfather’s mantelpiece.” He’s lost in thought for several moments, before continuing. “I remember her illness, and being taken to her bedchamber to say goodbye. We were staying with grandfather then; my father was away in the war. Afterwards, grandfather wouldn’t let him see me, and told me he had abandoned me. And then he died. My father died alone, because my grandfather lied to me and kept me away. I hated him for this. I walked out of his house, left him behind and hated him for many years. And now I’ve done the same –” His jaw snaps shut. “But this isn’t about me.”

Cosette would like nothing more than to close the subject, to turn away and let their wounds heal in peace, until such time would come when she is ready to soothe them away. She had done the same with her papa, countless times – and look how that had turned out. Every instinct tells her they are on the cusp of something that may yet define the rest of their life together. She suppresses her fear.

“Marius. What are you saying?”

The look in Marius’ eyes is full of anguish and uncertainty. “This isn’t about me,” he repeats, his voice holding a cadence of a mantra. “Your grief for your father, the relationship the two of you shared, the memories you still hold dear – none of this has anything to do with me at all, does it? My guilt and my fervent regret for how things turned out are superfluous to the issue at hand.” He hesitates, as if trying to explain some great revelation he doesn’t quite have the words for. “Your grief matters more than my experience of it. I’ve been in your place, but now I’m not. What matters is how you feel.”

Cosette doesn’t reply, unsure of what to say. She’s never heard Marius speak like that, isn’t quite sure she understands all that he’s trying to communicate.

He does that sometimes, thinking and brooding about an issue for so long that when he resurfaces, he’s bringing with him conclusions that are so profoundly simple as to be self-evident at the first glance, despite the layers of meaning visible only to him. Yet his usual ruminations tend towards the greater social questions and his own views on them. This? This feels different.

Something of her thoughts must have reflected on her face, for Marius expression grows rueful. “I suppose what I am trying to say is that I've never been very good at listening, at paying attention. I see what I expect to see, hear what I expect to hear and discard the rest. But bemoaning my foibles doesn’t help – the important thing is to do better. I will do better, for you.”

Cosette takes a deep breath. “Do you promise not to lie to me any more?”

“I promise!” Marius answers instantly, then hesitates. “I gave him my word to keep his secret before I even knew what it was.”

“You also promised he could visit,” Cosette replies quietly. “Why keep one promise and not the other?”

Marius has no reply to that.

“I swear I will not lie to you again,” is all he says.

“And you will not keep from me anything that has to do with me?”

“I swear,” Marius says. After a moment he adds. “I know it is a paltry excuse, but hurting you was the last thing that either of us wished to do. We were trying to protect you from suffering, and in doing that, we made the wrong choices. I made the wrong choices, because I failed to keep your feelings in mind, and that is something I can never make up for.”

For a long moment, the young couple sits in silence.

“Perhaps,” Cosette says eventually. “There was no good choice you could have made, because the choice wasn’t yours to make in the first place.”

“I’m your husband,” Marius says, grieved. “If I cannot do right by you, what’s the use of me?”

“Marius,” says Cosette. “Do we not, in this house, live in a republic?”

Marius huffs out a laugh. “I believe Monsieur Louis-Philippe would have something to say about that.”

“Do we not agree that it is no good, one person making all the decisions?” Cosette continues, unperturbed. “Your grandfather has made some terrible choices, both for you and for your aunt. My papa chose badly, in leaving me. I do not wish for any children of ours to live like we did, alone in their grief and helpless in their ignorance.”

“Never,” Marius assures vehemently. Cosette doesn’t meet his gaze, but she can see his expression growing horrified. “You do not believe me.”

“Marius,” Cosette answers, equal parts fond and exasperated, and perhaps just a bit resentful. “I think I need you to know, that before anything else, you are my family. The only family I have left. Do you know what that means to me, an orphan several times over, registered in my marriage documents under the surname given to me through kindness of strangers? I love you.”

“You say that you love me and I believe you,” Marius replies quietly. “But you won’t say that you trust me.”

“Marius,” Cosette says. “Do you trust me?”

“Always,” Marius replies instantly, the grows quiet under the weight of the promise.

Cosette takes his hand in hers. “Then, as long as you keep trusting me, I endeavour to trust you. How does that sound?”

Marius remains quiet and pensive for a long minute. Then, for the first time in weeks, he smiles.

“That, I believe, is what my friend Bahorel would have called a treaty.”