#A Journey To Get Back Diamonds

[sleepypandazzz09]

FINALLY DONE WITH ASSIGNMENTS.

Sketch of Lilia doing the thing from the Yuusha mv. I’ve been playing that song on repeat for the past couple of hours and it’s not getting old. I love it.

Also the new chapter my god Idia. I woke up and saw the video and thought I was having a fever dream. Then I saw a few more leaks and I thought wtf is going on.

Someone translate the chapter plssss.

[twisted-wonderland-but-gayer]

Language Barriers

Based off the idea that Yuu doesn't speak the same language or have the same culture norms in their world!! Got inspired for once

Content Info: GN!, 4.6K words-ish, Fluff/Comedy, Platonic except in Kalim's, Aztec refs in Leonas, NSFW jokes in Heartslabyul, Staff being parents, Trey bullying

Characters: Mozus Trein, Divus Crewel, Dire Crowley, Ashton Vargas, Sam, Riddle Rosehearts, Trey Clover, Cater Diamond, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, Leona Kingscholar, Kalim al-Asim, Jamil Viper, Vil Schoenheit

***

***

Since your arrival in Twisted Wonderland, you have begun to grasp the language and culture of this world. For the most part, at least.

You remember as clear as day when you first arrived, the pure confusion of the Headmage and those around you. Words from your lips were pure gibberish to them. They stared at you like you were an anomaly— and they were right. You are one.

‘Glitchy’ is the term they have used to describe your voice. “It is as though the sound around you warps everytime you speak.” The Headmage— Crowley— said.

The man had given you a necklace alongside an old dorm he housed you in. It was a simple looking necklace. A small mirror charm dangles in the center of it. Subtle enough to not draw attention to it.

It wasn't just a necklace however. It was a translator, a universal one.

The ‘glitches’ from your mouth had stopped and became the strange sounds the natives here spoke. Still, the necklace is just a buffer. Just because you can understand them doesn't mean you know what they're saying.

You still do not know the slang, the culture, the phrases, the grammar. Words still slipped your mind. You swear all you can hear is gibberish at times– and honestly you don’t doubt it occasionally is when students want to mess with you. You still had a lot to learn and there have been many miscommunications along the way. All part of the journey you suppose.

The staff here weren't coddling at all but they were accommodating. They made it clear that they favored no student more than the other. (At least that's what they claim.) But they also understood that holding you to the same standard would be unfair.

Mozus Trein

Professor Mozus Trein was a blessing when it came to learning about this world. His history classes made understanding this place easier. Trein would even give you extra context with his lessons to help you understand the everyday things and universal knowledge that you are unaware of.

His standards for your essays were different. He was no less strict on you but he was reasonable. He could tell that you truly understood the concept and put effort into your papers despite the language barrier and he is not going to punish you for learning.

You would get your paper back with a high grade and a page of corrections with explanations for each one. Why this comma here wrong. Why this was the wrong conjugation of that word. How this sentence could be improved.

“Excuse me, Professor?” You test the words as you speak them, accent slipping out. Trein looks to you from his desk. "Yes?”

“This word here is marked as wrong, but I remember you saying ‘I before E except after C.’” You tilt the paper to him and the older man adjusts himself on seat.

“Let me see here…” Trein paused to read the paper, expert eyes scanning for any potential mistakes. “Ah I see, that word there is an exception. ‘Sovereign’ doesn't follow that rule.” He closed his eyes as he explained and you nodded in understanding.

“I see, so I just have to memorize it. Are there any other words like that?” You didn't like how Trein seemed to frown as he thought about it. He hadn't realized how many there were. “Yes there are. A lot more than I anticipated I’m afraid,” a sigh escapes his lips and he shakes his head.

“I will not hold this against your grade since you have been improving with each assignment. Little mistakes like this will be forgiven so long as they are not repeated. Allow me to adjust your grade accordingly.”

You tilted your head as your B+ went to an A-. A small smile decorates your features. Trein nods to you and hands you your paper back. “There you are then. On to you next class.” You turn to leave but are stopped by when he speaks again.

“You should be proud of yourself, Yuu. You are the hardest working student I've have ever had the pleasure of teaching.” You perked up and your smile grew as you were onto your next class.

Divus Crewel

Professor Divus Crewel’s classes were difficult for completely different reasons. Math and numbers were the same for the most part aside from some minor symbol changes. Word problems were the bane of your existence however. Thankfully Divus can see that you understand the math. He'll often pass you or only take half a point off if you use the wrong equation or misunderstand the question and such.

He also gave you a small private lesson about alchemy as well. Teaching you the basic terms and proper protocols that most students would have learned early in their education. He'd show how to differentiate the effects an ingredient would have by the prefixes of their names or symbols on the vial.

But most importantly he would help you socially. What you should dress like for certain events. The correct way to speak so you could sound like a native. Social cues.

And he would refuse to admit it but you were his prized pup over the rest. He may or may not have slipped you a few perfumes or clothing under the guise of “Crowley not providing enough” or “Taking stress off of you to do better in class.” You knew better though.

After all, how could he play off giving a coat similar to his? It was less flashy and more suited to your tastes. It wasn't obvious to anyone else that you matched him unless they really observed. Perfect to wear in his class.

He's always looking out for you. Making sure you are safe and secure. And should you get injured from another adventure, he is there with a potion in hand.

Dire Crowley

Crowley was the one that gave you the necklace and a place to stay. Though eccentric and a bit well… lazy, you couldn’t deny that this was a good display of his generosity. Even if he does make you work for it.

Crowley was a strange one. He'd gift you some magical object one day and then forget you exist the next. He’d help you with your paperwork for accommodations and then forget to approve of them.

One time he dropped off a stack of paperwork on you to do for him but still left you a huge comprehensive guide that teaches you how to do each one. On top of that there was even a translation card meant to help you. If he put this much effort into these papers he'd be done by now. You assume he made this so he can drop more on you in the future. You swear he mentioned he's doing this to you to ‘prepare you for when you become the new headmage— er headmaster.’ Yeah right.

He'd give you dangerous tasks then become overprotective if any boy dare get too close to you. He'd help with anything but only if you stroke his ego. Yet despite it all he was still, as much as you hated to admit it, generous.

Despite everything, he has taken you in instead of abandoning you in this world. You swear sometimes he acts like a dad to you… When its convenient.

He's so annoying but you can’t find it in your heart to truly hate him. He may get you in trouble, but the moment it becomes too dangerous he steps in without hesitation to protect you and gives you a huge lecture after.

You hope you learn enough of the language to properly scold him.

Ashton Vargas

“Is this really necessary?” You ask the coach in front who re-wraps your hands tightly. “Absolutely it is!” The Coach's booming voice resonates in you as he pats you on your back rather roughly. “Give me another punch.”

You swallow and raise your hands again. You hesitate. “Come on kid you aren't gonna leave a dent in me!” You swallow and swing at his stomach. Vargas was right, he doesn't even flinch as your arm practically vibrates.

“That was a good form! I almost felt it.” A great guffaw rumbles in his chest. “Again!” Another punch, he looks down approvingly.

“Not bad, not bad at all. I sense a lot of potential in you, kid. That's enough for today.” You breathe a sigh of relief as you wipe your brow and unwrap your hands.

“Seems my training regiment is working, you're getting stronger by the day. Still— this on its own isn't enough. You need protein, kid! Lots of it. And you know what a good source of protein is?”

You stare at him for a moment. “Those uh…” the word slips your mind. “Chicken… capsules…?”

“Bingo! But they're called Eggs here Yuu.” Ashton puts a hand on his hip and makes a fist. “You should start with a dozen eggs per day and increase from there. I know that headmage can't be relied on to pay you in time, so I personally will deliver some bulking meals myself!”

“... Why are you doing this for me?” Your voice comes out a bit quiet as you speak. Ashton looks at you for a minute. “Why? Because you’re my student and I want to see you succeed. You got some serious strength hidden in you, and it would br a shame to see it wasted. Besides…”

As he speaks he starts taking down those punchy things, sandbags, you think. “The students here are quite rowdy. I want you to be able to defend yourself, especially since you don't have magic. You have to rely on brawn, Yuu! And I will be the one to awaken it.”

Vargas strikes a pose for a moment before relaxing. “Before you go I need to teach you some vocabulary.”

“Vocabulary…?”

“About your muscles of course!” The coach sat you down for a moment as he went into kinesiology. Micros and macros. Bulking. He broke it all down for you while flexing his muscles to emphasize his points.

“Now off you go Yuu, meet me here same time tomorrow, got it?”

Sam

Sam is a cool dude. You interact with him a lot. He never had an issue when you were first learning to speak. In fact he'd help you find the products you described to him. Of course he'd try and convince you to buy the more premium products but that's just business.

He'd even offer you a gig or two. His shelves don't stock themselves and his shadow friends wouldn't mind some extra help. Just know they can be a bit mischievous. While you were working you'd even get a small employee discount.

Even though your language has gotten better, there is still the occasional mix up.

“Ah, prefect! What can I do for you?” Sam queried while leaning on the counter top, delighted to see one of his favorite customers. “I am looking for… um…” You froze. What was that word again??

“The… white liquid?” You watched as Sam racked his brain for what you meant. “An invisibility potion?”

“No no! It's like… a juice?”

“Ah! I got it! Coconut milk!” The man snapped his fingers and winked. He frowned a bit when you shook your head.

“Wait here.” The shadow man watched as you ventured into the small smack aisle in front of him. Soon you took a bag of beef jerky and pointed to the small symbol on it. “What is this animal called again?”

“That's a cow.”

“Yes! I need the juice from it! The cow juice! What is its name? I forgot.” you perked up and beamed at him, hoping he understood. It all clicked for Sam, and he let out a hearty laugh at the realization.

“Do you mean milk, perchance?”

“Yes! I knew it had that sound! I need milk!” Sam chuckled again and waves his hand, sending a small shadow to retrieve some. “By the way would you be down to do some work tonight?”

“Tonight? Yeah, I can always use some extra cash.” The prefect was always so easy going. Guess they had to be in a place like this.

“Good. I'll apply your discount right now then!”

Heartslabyul

Your favorite Heartslabyul members have invited you to join them. Another Unbirthday party was to be hosted and the stars aligned today for the whole deck to help with the baking. It felt nice to be with them. They were like a family in a way, being with them felt like home. Alongside baking, there was some cooking being done too.

“Geez you really do like your eggs, huh?” Cater asked the spade who stirred his chopsticks with precision. He is determined to make the perfect tornado omelet.

“Oh you have no idea.” Ace tsked. “Whenever we go out to a restaurant it's the only thing he orders.”

“Not true!” Deuce's interjection wasn't as strong as it usually is, much to focused on his creation. “Yeah only if they dont offer any.” Ace retorts.

“Grim, it is unsanitary to touch the batter,” Riddle breaks up the impending argument to chide the direbeast ‘helping’ him stir, “Trey how many egg yolks do I add?”

“Three. You sure got it Riddle?” Riddle pouts a bit. He knows he got a shell in the batter last time but he's trying! “I'll get it right this time, you can count on it.”

“Ooh, give the egg whites to Deuce if you aren't using them!” Deuce mutters a thank you to Cater as he finishes up his omelet. “Does anyone else want one?”

No’s resound across the kitchen aside from you and Grim which makes Deuce smile. “Alright, what kind do you want Yuu? I'm still unsure on what kind you prefer.” Deuce looks a little embarrassed at not knowing despite how long you've been friends.

Before anyone could tease Deuce, Trey asks the worst question he possibly could without knowing. “Actually how do you like your eggs in the morning, Yuu? I rarely see you eat breakfast in the cafeteria.”

You pause for a moment, the pan you were greasing slipping slightly. Then you chuckled. “That's very bold of you Trey, I never expected you of all people to say that… But judging by everyone else's reaction, I assume it doesn't mean anything here?”

“Oh? Does it mean something different where you from?” Riddle asks, looking over at you. “It does actually.” Cater looks up from his phone he was reading the recipe from, noticing your amused expression. “What else could possibly it mean though?” You hold in a laugh. Perhaps this wasn't the best time to bring it up but you can't help it.

“Is that so? I sure hope I didn't say anything offensive. What does it mean?” Poor Trey; he chuckles as he decorates one of the finished cakes not knowing the storm that's brewing.

“You essentially just propositioned me in front of everyone.” The whole kitchen is silent as they stare at you. Trey looks flustered and confused out of his mind as an abundance of frosting squirts out of the bag. “I… pardon?”

Ace speaks first “Huh?! How does that make sense?”

“Proposition? What does that mean?”

“Don't worry about it Grim.” says the diamond. “Still that seems far fetched, it's rude of you to mess with Trey like that you know!”

“I'm not lying! It's actually what it means!” Trey is adjusting his glasses now, embarrassment growing. Riddle looks horrified, trying to find his words. He's trying to rack his brain for a response before deciding to ask about it. His voice comes out a little hesitant and unsure. “Are eggs part of some sort of courtship in your world…?”

“Um… sort of..?” At your words Deuce pales. Ace takes this opportunity to be a little shit per usual. “Wow! Seems like you have a chance then, Deucy!”

“Oh shut it Ace! Wait, have I been propositioning you this whole time?!” His face is red and he's hiding in his hands. He has offered so many egg dishes over the years. Oh God he must have made you so uncomfortable— this isn't what an honor student would do!

“I still don't know what that means…” Grim grumbles.

“No no! Offering eggs is fine, it's just that particular phrase has very different connotations in my world.”

Ace is snickering at the whole situation, but especially at Deuce’s panic. He's also just as confused, however. Trey finally has the courage to speak. “Um, how exactly does that mean…” He trails off, defeated. “I'm sorry Yuu, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable…”

“You didn't. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tease you too much…”

“Okay, but how exactly does that mean that?”

“Yeah I'm with Cater on this one…” Ace adds.

“Enlighten me.” Riddle puts his hands on his hips, morbid curiosity getting the better of him.

“So… When someone asks that they essentially mean to say they're gonna invite you to spend the night with them and cook you breakfast in the morning.” Trey looks even more embarrassed but so does Riddle.

“So it's a sleepover? That's it?” Grim asks just to be waived off by Cater again who vibrating with laughter.

“That's a pretty convoluted way of asking…” Deuce looks to the side, also a little flustered. “Yeah it makes no sense for me either, and I'm from that world, but that is what it means…”

“Wow so Trey really is bold!” Cater snickers as Ace joins in with a “I never knew you had it in you.”

“Enough with this vulgar talk!” Riddle commands, clearly demanding the conversation to be over.

“I am never gonna live this down aren't I?”

Leona Kingscholar

I am gonna nerd a lil abt aztec mythology rn and I'm not apologizing

Herbivore is what he called you. It was meant to be an insult but you never took offense. There is no other creature that fights harder than prey that is fighting for their life or backed into a corner. If anything it was a compliment. You've seen how hard they can fight.

Yet today Leona took the title further. “You are honestly like a little rabbit. All this confidence and attitude, yet harmless.” You raised a brow at him. “Thank you.”

Leona's eyes shift ever so slightly. “You're taking it as a compliment?” You tilt your head. “I assume rabbit in this world is synonymous with fragility here…? Odd. They're a symbol of warriors back in my world.”

“Is that so?” Leona speaks boredly, but he doesn't excuse himself or tell you to shut up. “Yeah, rabbits are these mighty warriors that are completely invincible. Children of one of the 5 sin gods too. Nothing can kill them. Centzon Tōtōchtin are no joke. Odd how they're considered weak here.”

You think for a moment. “But they are known to be constantly drunk all the time and play around, so I guess that could be an insult…” Leona just rubs his head. “Take it however you want…”

Kalim al-Asim

“Look at all the stars!” Kalim exclaims, pointing up at the sky. He lands his carpet along the sand dunes, eyes full of wonder. He then looks to you with bated breath, waiting for your reaction.

“It's beautiful…” You whisper, overlooking the patterns of stars decorating the night sky. It was straight out of a painting, vast and whimsical. Kalim was glowing at your happiness. “Aaah, I'm glad you like it! I was hoping you would!”

You lean back against the ground. Shooting stars dart across the sky along the twinkling lights in a beautiful display. Your eyes land on the moon, admiring how different it was from your own.

“The moon looks beautiful tonight, doesn't it?” You freeze for a moment. “Haha, careful saying that to people from my world Kalim, not that you'll be running into anyone else from there anytime soon…”

Kalim looks over to you, brows slightly furrowed. “Eh? What do you mean?” You look back up the moon again. “Saying ‘the moon looks beautiful tonight’ where I’m from means I love you.” There's a moment of silence as Kalim ponders.

“Well then the moon looks beautiful tonight! I love all of my friends!” Kalim grins at you, fist pumped to his chest.

“It's not like that, Kalim. It's for romantic feelings. Funny, since coming here I've had a lot of experiences that would be considered flirtatious in my word…” You laugh a bit before a small frown appears on your features but Kalim snaps you out if it.

“So what you're saying is… it's a love confession?” His eyes are glimmering, the moon reflecting on them beautifully.

“You got it.”

“Then the moon looks beautiful tonight.”

Jamil Viper

So in TWST the languages aren't called the same thing in our world but I couldn't figure out the language of the Scalding Sands so I made one up. Can be a psuedo-prequel to my other fic Missing Yuu. It can be read here!

“Your Arabic is so similar yet so different than my world's version” Jamil pauses his mumbling and hums in question. “Arabic?”

“It's a language where I'm from. It sounds very similar to yours. Like I swear it could be some sort of dialect of it.”

“Scaldic, you mean?” You nod looking over at him from where you lay in his bed. “Is that what it's called? It's a pretty language.” Jamil messes with the stereo in his room, taking out an old CD and browsing for another he wanted to show you. “Maybe once you get more comfortable in this language, I can teach you a bit.”

“That would be lovely, thanks Jamil” As the sounds of shuffling continue from his search and you absentmindedly mess with your necklace before sitting up. “Wait! I know!”

Jamil perks and turns to you, watching as you start to take off your necklace. “Here put this on, you've shown me so much music from your world, let me show you some from mine!”

You offer the necklace over, shaking it a little for encouragement. Jamil takes it gently and examines the necklace. He lifts up his hair and slips it on, feeling a warmth on his chest from where the mirror lay.

You speak, and Jamil braces against the weird feeling of the necklace warping your glitched gibberish from your throat into his native language. “Can you hear me?” The words echoed in his head a bit. He took a moment to fully process them as they reverberated in his head.

He almost replies in his native tongue, but the amulet compels him to speak another language. Your language.“Yes, I can.” He replies, slurring a bit as he feels his words echo and warp. Strange… he knows what he's saying but he can't understand it.

“You have an accent, well that makes sense…” You chuckle a bit as he sits beside you, taking a moment to adjust to the sensation. “I never thought about how the enchantments on these worked. I assumed that it would be instant. Is this what it's like for you?”

“Crowley said it would probably be different for me cause I'm not from this world. See why I ask you to repeat things all the time? … thanks for not getting too annoyed with that by the way.”

You tap away on your phone for a moment. “Here we go, I got some songs in Arabic for you, look.” Jamil watches you press play and takes in the music. It was ethereal, so different yet so similar to his worlds. Uncanny yet compelling. Then the lyrics start and he furrows his brows.

“It really is like Scaldic.” he replies, closing his eyes. “Its like if I focus hard enough I can hear it in my own language, but I cant.”

“See what I mean?” Jamil nods. “I think I'm picking up some words though, but there's no guarantee the meaning is the same.”

“Yeah it's how I feel all the time here… its frustrating at times. Oddly enough there are some words that stay the same, mostly food for example. Like mahalabia or horchata for example.”

“Huh, odd how that works…” the music coursing through his body invigorates him. He can imagine all the potential ways to move to this.

“Yeah. And it's the same dish too— well sort of. It tastes so similar yet so different. I miss my world's food, but I'm slowly forgetting the taste of it. Its just vauge memory.” Jamil peers over to the saddened expression on your face. He never even considered that part of being from another world.

“... How about we listen to your music while cooking, then? I'm sure we can make something that tastes like home.” Your face brightens. “That sounds nice.”

Vil Schoenheit

“Thank you for putting up with my accent, it must be annoying to deal with.” You sip on the tea he offered you, trying your best to abide by the manners in this world. Vil merely looked at you.

“It's not annoying at all. Your accent is fine just the way it is.” He almost seemed disappointed by the insinuation.

“Ah… Sorry I just saw that Epel’s usually not allowed to use his accent around you, so I assumed I shouldn't either.” Vil sighs.

“That's different. You have already proven yourself strong and beautiful enough to be who you are. Epel on the other hand needs to learn to accept himself for who he is first before he can truly be the person he wants to be. He must prove to me he can love himself as he is. If I hated accents, I wouldn't have let Rook speak in his."

“Ah I see… Thank you.” It wasn't everyday that you get praise from the Vil Schoenheit. “Your speech has improved, though I may point out there are some words you may need to work on. Your accent may make it sound like you are talking about something else entirely. Hmm…”

You hold your breath as he thinks. “I want you to grow into the best spudling you can be, so how about you take voice lessons from me?” Vil seems to smirk at your surprised expression. “From you..?”

Vil nods. “Yes. This way you can grow more confident in your speech and vocabulary. That voice of yours is beautiful, it just needs to be tuned.” You look at your tea then to him. “I accept.”

[gyuswhore]

Cherry Picker [1]

«« "Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't." »» 

Choi Seungcheol x reader | part of the winter with you collab hosted by @camandemstudios!

Part 1: 19k | Part 2

warnings: Hockey player! Seungcheol, figure skater! reader, *deep breath* ENEMIES TO LOVERS, angst, fluff, smut [MINORS DNI], toxic friends, cheol has anger issues, kkuma appearance, @miniseokminnies makes also makes a fluffy appearance, injuries, mentions of blood, smut tags in the next part

synopsis: Cherry Picking [ice hockey]: a manoeuver in which a player, the floater, literally loafs (spends time in idleness) or casually skates behind the opposing team's unsuspecting defencemen while they are in their attacking zone. There wasn't much you counted on in life; just your skates, your drive and how it felt to win. And of course, your local ice rink, that is now being colonised by an obnoxious hockey team in all their big, loud, stinking glory. Neither does it help that one particular red donned specimen forgets to leave his cherry picking on the ice.

[a/n] (it's a long one but PLEASE read) : ITS HERE FINALLY this was an extremely bumpy ride and I wouldn't have finished it without all of my friends who quite literally kept me going. I know I made an update saying this was gonna end up being 20k max but it turns out my yap-itis is for life </33

the posting schedule for this fic is going to be a little less predictable, I will try to get part 2 out asap but I do not currently have a date for you.

big thank you to @highvern for betaing and making me feel better about this fic, @amourcheol for talking me out of meltdowns multiple times and for giving me some really good scene pointers, @ugh-yoongi for being so patient w me and explaining how ice hockey works with so much patience. ty to @the-boy-meets-evil @tusswrites @lovetaroandtaemin for also proof reading for me 🥹

HUGE thank you to everyone at @camandemstudios who agreed to be part of this collab and being part of the journey as we grow 🫶 please check out the collab masterlist linked above, there's already so many amazing fics posted ready for you to read <33

that being said, I know more about figure skating than I do about hockey, but even so there are defo some inconsistencies in terms of accuracies in this, please bear with me 🫶 remember to reblog or send me an ask telling me your thoughts, id love to hear what you guys think 🥹 masterlist

“CAN I HELP YOU?”

“I’m sorry,” you gravel out. 

“Sorry isn’t gonna give back my hour and thirteen minutes.” 

The strap of your gym bag cuts into your bare shoulder where the collar had slipped, the tight threading sure to leave a scratch by the time this is bound to be done. You’d managed to avoid coach Carroll’s morning cornering for a couple months, going above and beyond by showing up to the icy rink before she could even pull up in the parking lot in her blaring red Porsche, let alone before her ten minute meditations in her cream coloured seats. 

“There was an accident on the highway. Truck tipped over.”

“It’s eight in the morning,” Carroll points.

“Illegal truck, I guess.” 

Teeth to tongue, you know you’ve done it. 

She’s in her usual tracksuit, green today, that contrasts her bright red hair in its tight curls. Her glasses are her sensible Ralph Laurens, eyes piercing through the tinted lens as she holds her chin in her hands. Silent, calculating. 

“Fine. Change.” 

Your legs want to give out before you can even get your skates on. 

There were many things Isabella Carroll was good at. The industry would have one of them be a good coach; one of the most expensive, the one that squeezed the life out of her students to inject into the golds, silvers and bronzes they would then bring her on an equally diamond encrusted platter. 

She has also mastered the art of impeccable dressing downs. 

The fact she chose to skip out on verbally humiliating you meant you’d managed to strike that cord. She might be leaving in the next 45 minutes, but she has a very particular way of stretching the minutes into years. 

Like a whipped horse, you scurry into the locker rooms, skin crawling. Your gym bag is positively launched into your designated locker, shoes kicked off as you attempt to stick your right foot into your skates, narrowly missing your heel as it grazes right past the toe pick. 

You slow down after that, not needing a scar on your heel to match the large one on the side of your calf. 

By the time you jog back out, unzipping your jacket to throw onto one of the benches, coach is on the ice, following Marina who zips around on the other end of the rink in her step routine. 

It’s difficult to not rush through your warmups when you’re already late, your splits hardly pushed out as you pray all that running around in the desolate locker rooms was enough to stretch everything out. 

There’s a crash on the illuminated ice as you slip off your skate guards, Marina already practising her Salchows. “You’re in the air for enough time, why can’t you rotate?!” 

Right blade first, you step into the cold encircling, gliding into the centre to begin making your usual rounds around the circumference.

There’s a positive screech of your name from across the ice, wind blowing in your hair as you turn to look. “Do I need to hire someone to hold up your free leg? Fix it, girl!”  

Holding your left leg more taut, you attempt to transition into a jump and spin. You fail, landing on both feet. Somehow, falling on your ass felt like a better conclusion to that arc. 

“Wonderfully executed! Let’s try both hands on the ice too next time, really complete the contemporary finish,” coach hollers out to you as she continues to follow Marina at the same time. 

Trying again, you manage to land on your outer left blade. You receive no comment. 

You try the jump again, pushing into a sit spin. 

The momentum is enough to begin the familiar slack in your scalp, your bun loosening its grip on your hair. Biting your tongue would be dangerous right now, but you would if you could, especially considering the ramifications of your hair coming undone in front of her. 

The crouch as you spin burns your thighs like you’re being branded, pulling yourself back up as you finish abruptly. Still no comment, the unintelligible string of nagging coming from the other side of the rink. 

Marina stands hands on her hips, breathing so heavily she’s nearly heaving. Her blonde hair is loosening far worse than yours, strands framing her face. Coach Carroll waves her hands and shakes her head so quickly you wonder how her glasses haven’t flown off. You didn’t get to see what cardinal sin Marina committed to warrant this reaction, but you feel better knowing she’s exhausted enough to let her insults swim past. 

Ten seconds is enough to catch your breath, moving to do something busy enough to avoid another being screamed at across the ice, again. 

By the end of the remaining forty five minutes, you realised your punishment was also punishing Marina. Coach Carroll remained tailing Marina as you attempted to do everything that would please her, far away from her. Not a direction, praise or neutral comment in sight or sound, sealed with her always expected retorts. 

She leaves without a word, leaving you scrambling to the benches for a seat. Putting your skate guards on is torture, your legs refusing to pull up to reach them. You hardly notice Marina slam down into the seat beside you to mimic you slumped down and head lolled back, eyes closed to the bright ceiling. 

“These skates are gonna kill me,” you whine once you’ve caught your breath, unlacing them to inspect the blistering damage. 

“They’re brand new, what did you expect?” she retorts, moving to sit up straighter. Of course, you were grappling at straws expecting anything akin to sympathy from Marina. 

It was your misfortune that the day you had to break in your skates was the day you’d be late, your heavily bandaged foot still aching as you sit idle. 

Your lungs are still burning when you pull yourself back up, knees buckling the absolute slightest bit as you attempt to take the first baby step back onto the ice. 

“We need to get back to it,” Marina says, and you have half a mind to bite that you were up before her. 

She’s faster at slipping off her skate guards though, and you watch her back as she glides back onto the ice. You follow suit, trailing her as you speak. 

“Hey, I’m sorry Carroll was on your ass because of me. My alarm didn’t go off this morning, I overslept.”

She turns to look at you, ghost of a smile on her face. “Time to go old school I guess, I think my brother left behind his old alarm clock from college.”

“I guess—”

“Besides, I needed that. Wouldn’t have known my Salchows were sucky otherwise.”

She doesn’t let you respond and you’re left to watch as she takes off to warm herself back up. 

Strange as it was, you’ve found her behaviour simply doesn’t affect you anymore, choosing to take her as she was. She pushed you to be better, to work harder. Even now, as your ankle burns and your hip screams, you brace yourself into another axel entry, trying your hardest to keep up with Marina. 

It’s another couple hours when Marina leaves for her second appointment with her personal trainer, leaving you alone. 

It’s less crowded now, despite the head count going from two to one, but you appreciate the alleviation as you continue to practise for the rest of the morning. The rink feels more vast and your hip has stopped its incessant aches. 

Having finished a run through of your routine without music, you move towards the sound booth to turn on the tail end of your track, skating back to the echoing rink to brace yourself for the next four agonising minutes. 

You’ve adjusted your starting position about ten times by the time the silence of the song restarting settles. And then it begins, soft piano as you push yourself off into the throngs of this hellsent routine. 

It’s muscle memory by now, but your stomach lurches before you push into a jump anyway. There isn’t much time to ponder when you’re midair, tight yet contorted, trying to land on the right side of the blade. But there’s a phantom pain in your right ankle, right when you’re at the point of your arc, and you feel the all too dreaded panic flood in. 

You land on both feet, less than ideal but with no one to watch the fail, it was better than falling on your ass. There’s been worse outcomes, so there’s little you can do but continue into the step sequence. 

Trying to shake off that bout of panic, you briefly wonder if the music suddenly had more bass than you’d last checked. Perhaps you just hadn’t been practising like you should, but you make a mental note mid-spin to listen to the track again later tonight for any tidbits you’d missed. 

Your heartbeat is trying to accommodate more air than you can let it, especially as you feel the pulse in your ears quicken as you approach your final jump sequence. The music is louder yet muffled all the same, there’s an incessant banging that you can’t figure out is from your head or a corrupted music file. But you find that sweet spot, deciphering through the ruckus in your brain, and you jump. 

It happens again, the strange ache in your ankle that should be long gone, and just like that, all that panic you shook off in the interim comes hurtling back. The world’s gone silent, blaringly so, and for some heaven known reason, you’ve closed your eyes.

You aren’t so lucky this time round, landing directly on your back with a spectacular crash, the ice cutting cold through your thermals as you slide in the direction of your epic fall. Eyelids opening, they’re met with the spotlighted ceiling, head cushioned by the hard plane of ice beneath you. 

The pain in your ankle’s escaped like a fugitive, done it’s damaged and left you crumpled on the floor. The adrenaline is rushing just enough to keep you from identifying any other awakened aches, but you have a sneaking feeling your hip is going to hate you after this. 

You’re still laying flat on the ice when you realise you're laying in mostly silence. Your music is off, and has been since you came to on the floor. The banging, you realise, wasn’t just in your head either. The unmistakable reverberation of the locker rooms is loud and assuming, noises rattling all the way out onto the echoing rink. 

It takes the strength of a village to pull yourself up, but you do it anyhow, ignoring the blatant protests of your mind and soul as you squint across the rink to the sound booth. 

As you skate towards the gate, you assume it’s Hansol trying to get your attention by disrupting you mid session, but the figure shuffling into view is telling you otherwise. 

It isn’t anyone you know, clearer as you grow closer to the gate. It’s obvious he’s the culprit that turned off your music, your laptop shut and the wire to the speakers disconnected from the port. 

You stare at it pointedly as you grapple for your skate guards. 

The man does nothing but remain with his hands in the pockets of his bright red hoodie, hovering over your laptop as he watches you struggle with your skates. SVT stitched onto the back in black. He’s as blank faced as ever, a stark contrast to your heavy breathing as you come round. 

Standing up straight, you dart between your laptop and this person, waiting for an explanation that seems to be lost in the void. You’re still heaving slightly, scowl forming on your face as this strange man offers you nothing.

“Um, did you—”

“Yeah. It’s four,” he responds, like it was supposed to explain enough. 

“And that means…?”

“We have the rink reserved.”

“But it’s Monday,” you respond. It sounds stupid, but it meant something. The rink was reserved on the weekdays for coach Carroll’s mentees, the weekends for the public. 

This man and his big brown eyes gaze directly into your soul as he responds, “And that means…?” 

You’re sweaty and tired, your feet ache with about five new blisters from the last time you checked, and you’re sure you need to get your hip checked out. Perhaps that’s why there’s this unreasonable surge of irritation that rises in the back of your head, irrational and half blinding. 

“That means—”

“Seungcheol! Get your ass in the locker room before I drag you in there myself.” The voice that rings out is heavy and has you flinching, the man’s order echoing from somewhere in the tunnel that leads to the locker rooms. 

The man you assume is named Seungcheol begins to walk away from you without a word or gesture, and you can only blink at his retreating back. 

“Hey! Do you mind not touching my stuff next time round?” you call out as a last ditch attempt to have the last word. He turns his head to you, eyebrows raised and a smirk of mild disbelief growing on his face. Nothing is said as his head turns back to the front, strutting into the tunnel.

He lets you have your last word as he walks away, your gaze the same shade of crimson as his retreating form. 

“AND THEN—THESE—HUGE dudes with fucking botox or fillers in their shoulders storm out—”

Your vent is interrupted by Lorelai who’s burst out laughing mid bite of her sandwich, “What?”

“Botox!” she muffles a shriek through a full mouth.

“They were shoulder pads or something, you get it!” 

The air in the outside seating of this cafe is stellar, the perfect in between you wait for all year. The parasol above you is enough so you don’t have to squint your eyes in the late afternoon sun, the wind perfectly paced in a breeze. Your own sandwich remains untouched, the bread gone stale as you pick at the corner of the crust. 

“Apologies,” she yips. “So you're saying we’re being partially colonised by hockey players?”

“I don’t know! Was it a one time thing, a weekly thing? It can’t be a weekly thing, Monday afternoons are routine practice days.” 

“The routine you’ve been practising for the past year and a half?” 

“I can’t afford getting rusty.” 

Lorelai drops her head like she’s had enough, “Maybe these hockey jocks are a blessing.”

“What?”

“Nothing! Hey, do you want cake, they have cheesecake, I could get some!” 

“Lorry!”

“Okay,” she huffs, dropping back into her seat with blown cheeks. “I’m sorry.” 

Lorelai has a sense of humour that took you more than enough time to decipher, but that wasn’t nearly the first thing you noticed about her. She was beautiful, even more so with the sun gracing her like a loving embrace. The highlights in her otherwise dark hair make the hazel of her eyes pop like two perfectly welcoming cliffs to jump off from. She was the definition of spunk and valour, yet graceful in everything she does. Even now, as she picks up her smoked turkey on honey oat, complete with every fixing and condiment on earth, you question how she can wrench her mouth open to take a reasonable bite; but she does, not a crumb out of place. 

“I have to share a rink with dudes whose hockey sticks are gonna make craters in the ice, why are you not mourning with me?”

“Pretty sure your toe picks do the same thing.”

“Lorelai!” 

“Not the government name!” she wails as though woefully wounded. 

“You’re impossible.”

“Carroll didn’t hate me for no reason.” She smiles in her pride. 

Lorelai’s competitive skating career came to an end sometime last year before the Grand Prix, a decision she announced gracefully with the words BITE ME etched with sharpie on her brand new competition skates. It was difficult to erase the mental image of the scarlet of Carrol’s face when Lorelai marched in with her hair chopped so short it’d be impossible to pull into a bun, marked skates in hand and a mask of determined rebellion on her face. Of course, the whole ordeal could’ve been an email, but it simply wouldn’t have been Lorelai. 

“It’s not like you were trying very hard to please her,” you grumble, nibbling on a fry. 

“Why would I try pleasing that woman?”

“For one thing, your sponsors were paying a bucketload so you could have her.”

“I didn’t want Carroll as a coach. Ever. I wanted Jameson. The only reason they put me with Carroll was because they were putting you and Marina with her.” Her voice is hard, eyebrows raised the slightest bit. 

“What does Jameson offer that Carroll doesn’t?!”

“Oh! I don’t know, let’s see,” she raises her voice as her sarcasm begins to simmer with a lethal edge. “Maybe the fact that an hour training with Jameson doesn’t feel like the subjected wrath of a world war two dictator!”

“Carroll is not that bad!”

“God, you become more like Marina everyday.”

You frown, “What does that mean?”

“It means—!” Lorelai pauses to close her eyes, and you can almost hear her counting in her head. “It means nothing. Eat your sandwich before the bread starts molding.”

“Ew.”

Lorelai smirks. “Bite me.”

You attempt to channel some of that Lorelai energy when you get to the rink past noon on a weekday. You hope you’re reasonable in your hope that Hansol will be in his office as you walk towards the door. 

Three rapt knocks before you hear a muffled voice telling you to come in. The door creaks when you open it. Loudly, might you add. 

“How long is it gonna sing every time I come in here?” you grimace. 

Hansol looks at you from behind his laptop with a tight smile. “For as long as I keep forgetting to oil the hinges.”

Hansol, for as young and qualified as he is, is only the rink manager because his family owns the place. Having graduated the year before with a shiny new law degree, he opted to take a break from moving forward with his career to “slow down” as he put it. The rink was as slow as it could get for him, betting the only important thing on his laptop screen currently was solitaire. 

“Did you also forget that I have the rink during the day on weekdays? 

“Ah. You’ve encountered the hockey team.”

“Yes. They turned off my music mid routine.”

“They're only here till the renovations in their home rink are done, we’re the only other rink in town that’s closed to the public on weekdays.” 

“But they’re cutting into my practice time?” you add, brows furrowed. 

Hansol opens his mouth before closing it again, eyebrows raised. “You clock in here five days a week, ten hours a day.”

“And?”

Hansol huffs out a breath. “Listen, I know you and the other skaters like having the rink to yourselves, and I’d be happy if it was always just you guys. Trust me, these jocks are impossible to clean up after, let alone deal with. Between the launch pad calibre noise and the stupid plastic barriers I have to put up on the railings, I’d love for it to just be you guys. But the only times you officially have the rinks booked is in the mornings when you’re training with coach Carrol, the rest of the week is technically up for grabs.”

“Let me book the rest of the slots then.”

“SVT’s already booked most of the remaining hours.” Hansol’s voice is sympathetic, but his words seemed final. You aren’t sure how bad your face was contorted, because suddenly he’s adding, “But hey, you can look at the leftover hours if they work for you.”

He pulls out the roster on a tablet before handing it to you. It only takes you a minute to scroll before you realise the only viable options were past 10 PM. The rink closed at 11. 

You sigh, shoulders visibly sagging as you let out a bated breath of tension. “It’s fine.” You hand the tablet back to Hansol. “I’ll figure it out.”

Turning on your heel, you make a move to leave the premises. Hansol calls out your name. 

“I’m sorry. Really.” 

You muster a smile, one that you cannot feel the slightest bit. “It’s alright.”

“Only a few months.”

Something in your smile sours, and you nod absentmindedly. “Only a few months.” 

THERE WERE OTHER WAYS the universe could have let it happen, someplace where you might have forgiven yourself. Someplace you had reason to be. 

You were accustomed to physical exertion, how could you not be when you were what you were, but hiking on an incline was never something you fancied yourself with. Gyms and coaches and paved running trails are nothing like rocky terrains and steep mountain paths with no guide but a mobile map. 

The semi finals had passed you by, handing you a gold medal along the way as you thrust yourself into bliss. It was a job well done, so much so that you allowed yourself a weekend of something other than skating rinks and training sessions. So many nights that you can hardly remember, yet flash like lightning under your eyelids. Where you sobbed into your pillow and cursed yourself for ever having the gall to take a step back, to be so arrogant and blustering to announce yourself away from the thing that should’ve mattered the most. 

It only took one tiny crater in the path to twist your ankle so hard you crumple to the ground with a scream you cannot remember. More hands than you have holding on to your searing ankle, like they were holding it together with nothing but their palms and fingers. Lorelai was talking, and talking and talking, but all you could hear was the roaring question in your mind. 

Why did you bring me here? 

Six weeks. 

You watched with your own eyes as the Grand Prix final shuttered away on a reel, like you were watching a movie from an age you could not visit. 

Six weeks. 

Marina sat beside your bed and said words you’d never forget. 

“I’m sorry, but…this is your own fault.”

Six weeks. 

Lorelai wept, and said the same words for an entirely different reason. 

“I’m sorry. This is my fault, it was my idea.” 

Six weeks. 

Carroll kept face, but you could see past the mask. A sigh that said more than any words of reassurance. Disappointed but not surprised. 

Six weeks you were bedridden with an ankle that refused to support your weight on the surface area of your bare foot, let alone on the 3/16th of an inch on a blade. 

Bedrest, meds, physical therapy, and still. The ache in your ankle follows you like a ghost haunting you of your worst mistake. 

It was your fault. You chose to put whimsy above everything you laboured for, for years and years. You chose to look past your shortcomings like they would not become your achilles heel. You chose to get on that trail. You chose to walk out on crutches.

You, who could land a jump on a fraction of an inch of steel, could now barely stand on her own two feet. 

You’d decided on that day, that you were as pathetic as they come.

IT WAS THE MOST natural decision to drag Lorelai out of where she rotted in bed to come with you to the rink. 

“You want me to fight them?” She’s wearing her Winnie the Pooh fuzzy pyjama pants and a university hoodie on top, her short hair concealed in the hood she’s pulled up. “They are hockey players. We are twigs!” 

“Lorry. Have you ever thrown a punch in your life?” you ask her as you pull your hair back into a loose bind. 

“No?” 

“Then why on earth would I ask you to fight goblins triple our size?” 

Her mouth is gaping in disbelief. “Why am I here then?” 

“You,” you start, grabbing your skates and moving out of the locker rooms. “Are gonna sit pretty in that sound booth and make sure nobody touches my laptop.”

“…you realise Hansol has security cameras right?”

“Are you planning on robbing my laptop?”

“No. Although it does have nice specs.” 

You ignore her as you walk towards the benches. “That stupid hockey team needs to know I have reinforcements of my own.”

Lorelai stands there, brows furrowed and in clothes that drown her. She glances down at her outfit and then back up at you. She deadpans, “This is the most unthreatening I have ever looked.”

“Just—” You stand up too quickly and feel yourself wobble. The railing is hardly a foot away, your hand moving over to grab it. Except your palms feel nothing but the flat of something smooth and hard, fingers bumping into the feeling of something unfamiliar. 

You manage to find your balance with a yelp, immediately snapping up to see where you missed the railing. The railing was still there, perfectly within arms reach. There’s a glare in your vision, like looking through a screen. Higher and higher, you realise quickly that you’ve been looking through a clear barrier so high up you can hardly find where it ends in its erect standing. 

Lorelai speaks up first, her voice resonating loudly, “Isn’t that supposed to be on the other side of the railing. Stupid, stupid Hansol.” 

It looks like it stretches throughout the circumference of the rink, wrapping whoever’s inside in a giant plastic fish bowl. 

There’s a clench in your jaw you can’t control, something a little more than annoyance building in your senses. It should be an easy thing to ignore, especially regarding its practically invisible nature, but its presence is all you can think about, even as you step your right blade onto the ice. 

Skating towards the middle of the rink, you feel claustrophobic. 

“Woah! You look like a zoo animal,” Lorealai adds unnecessarily. 

“Just play the track,” you grumble. 

“There should be a don’t tap on the glass sign,” she says, voice muffled as yells from the benches. “You already look like a weasel, can’t have confused people in the stands.” 

“Lorry!” 

“What?” she yells, her voice muffled as she yells from the benches. 

You curse the plastic that cages you as you yell louder, “Play the track!” 

Lorelai nods and makes a noise of understanding, and you watch her as she disappears into the sound booth. 

Taking your starting position, you wait for the quiet lull of the track before the beginning of the unmistakable piano; the low tremor in the beginning existing to prepare you to jump into the routine. You stand there with your arms out like a swan, waiting for your cue that won't seem to arrive. 

You almost yell out at Lorelai again before you suddenly hear the resonating shrill of the piano notes, startling yourself out of your first push. It’s fine, you’ll recover. You’re distracted by your staggered start and it’s enough to have you miss your first jump. It’s fine. You’ll recover. 

By the time the four minutes are up, you’ve missed two of your five jumps, a spin gone wrong, and nearly crashed into the plastic barrier. Not to mention, the aches in your body are enough to seem impossible to geographically pinpoint. 

It’s pointed, the way you make a beeline for the benches, refusing to look at Lorelai. You can almost imagine her expression, the poker face she has when she’s trying to think of ways to structure her next words nicely. 

“What was that?” she deadpans, voice a little far away. Your body hurts enough to take your focus away from her. 

“I don’t know.” 

“I thought your ankle was fine now?” she asks. 

You grit your teeth. “It is.” Lies. The way it was hurting you right now was making sure to remind you of that. 

“You know, you did pick back up a lot earlier than we thought—”

“I said I’m fine, Lorry,” you snap. “Now can you please play the track again.” 

You finally look up, and she looks like she wants to say something. But you’re on the ice before she can. 

You adapt to the excess muffle of the plastic barriers, ears straining to hear the beginning of the piano before you jump into the choreography smoother than last time. This time round, it’s better. The pain in your ankle and the budding one in your hip is apparent, but it’s suddenly easier to drown it out. Focusing on the music, keeping your centre of gravity, pushing into your jumps and spins with enough vigour to hold to what you are. 

Another four minutes pass and it’s over. Immediately, you swing over to the soundbooth to find Lorelai, only to find her joined by an extra set of people.

Impossibly, your blood runs cold. 

There’s a sneaking suspicion you know who it is despite the two men having their backs turned to you, especially judging by the obnoxious red jackets they have on. SVT. You can hear Lorelai speak indecipherably, her voice stern. 

“And you are?” one of them asks. You don’t recognise him, but you do the other one. The one who turned your music off the first day him and his team stepped foot in here. 

“Lorelai!” she yells it for no reason. 

“Gilmore?” The one you recognise snorts. Seungcheol, that’s what they called him the last time you saw him in the sound booth. 

“I’m worse,” she states. 

“Lorry?” you interrupt, arms crossed and gaze directed at her. 

“Lorry?” The one you don’t recognise says. “Like a truck?” 

“You think you’re funny?” Lorelai takes a step towards him, a fair attempt to look threatening if it weren’t for her very unthreatening attire. 

“Oh look at her pyjamas! It’s Pooh bear, Cheol,” he exclaims. That seems to irritate him. 

“Can you replay the track, please, I have to smooth things over,” you intervene. In your mind, ignoring their presence in your space was the best solution, refusing to give them a way to merge into your lane. 

“Woah, we have the rink booked today,” Seungcheol stops you. “4:30.”

Snapping around to find the clock on the adjacent wall, you read the time. “4:17. You can wait.”

He raises his eyebrows. “And thirteen minutes makes what difference?”

“You said 4:30. It is not 4:30 yet.”

The other one thumps him on the back, all smiles. “We can wait, right, Cheol? Besides, we have to put our skates on.” 

His gaze is hard and doesn’t leave yours. “Fine.” 

You break away first to find Lorelai still in the same position, staring at the exchange. You ignore the two men that stand there and address her, “Play the track.”

Before the music begins, you glance back to the benches where the two men have seated themselves, apparently strapping in to watch you. You dig your nails into your palm to reign yourself back in. No point in getting upset. 

The piano begins, and you're determined to not mess up. Especially not right now. 

It goes well for all of 45 seconds, you're hitting the right beats, you feel like water. But then the first jump comes along and you see a flash of red from the stands. An irrational feeling hits you as you push into the first jump, it’s enough to make you stumble when you land. You manage to not fall, but it’s obvious you’ve messed up. 

Somewhere beyond the music you hear a distinct, “Solid 4!”

It distracts you again, and you miss a move. Somehow your second jump ends up worse, and you feel your bottom hit the hard ice. 

“8 point 5! Nice!”

It doesn’t take long for you to realise what they’re doing, anger crashing into you like a flash flood. Scoring your falls? You’re determined to make the next jump combination. You make it fine, but your quad Salchow turns into a triple. The oafs are too shallow to notice, so you hear no jeer. 

But you know that you messed up the only quad in your entire program. 

The last jump goes from a triple axel to a double, and you want to break something. 

The song ends, and you know you have another nine minutes left to yourself, but all you can think about is getting out of the vicinity as soon as possible. Away from all of the eyes that are trained on your hunched form. 

There’s nothing you know about Seungcheol, and yet, the thought of him even looking at you right now is unbearable. Twice you fell, countless times you failed. 

Lorelai says nothing while you pack up, and nothing as you leave the rink. 

“CHOI SEUNGCHEOL, CENTER,” LORELAI reads aloud from your bed with her mouth still full of salt ‘n vinegar chips. 

“Perfect, he already thinks he’s the center of the universe,” you grumble from your position on the floor of the bedroom. Your foam roller feels like heaven under your calves, but the position is beginning to cramp. 

“Surprised you haven’t heard of him, he’s half a celebrity.” 

You turn to her, “I have two gold medals and five podiums for every major skating event.”

“Do I ask for your autograph?”

“He’s not special.”

“Hm. His skill and popularity would beg to differ.”

“Why are you so hellbent on liking him?” 

“Because he’s cute,” she grins wide. “Although the other one was cuter, very angel-like. And he liked my Pooh Bear trousers. Can’t find his name on the team roster though.”

“He was wearing the same stupid jacket—”

You’re cut off by a gasp, a loud one at that. “He coaches the babies!” 

Her face is contorted into something between an “aw” and a sob. 

Lorelai’s phone is dropped dramatically on the bed as she thrashes on your made (now unmade) bed. You swipe the phone and read. His picture is there, the name Yoon Jeonghan, Junior League Coach.

“Good for him.”

“He just got five times hotter,” she states like she’s out of breath. 

“Give it another meeting and he’ll give you five other reasons to hate him.”

“God, you’re so negative,” she huffs. 

“They’re hogging my rink!”

“It is not your rink.”

“It’s as good as!”

“Whatever.” Lorelai rolls her eyes and sets back on the bed, no doubt searching the man up by name. 

“Ow!” you yelp as you stand up from the ground, ankle twisting slightly in the process. 

Lorelai jumps. “What?”

“Nothing,” you mumble quickly, hoping she’d drop it. But she catches your lingering stare on your bad ankle. 

“It’s still hurting, isn’t it?”

“I just twisted it weird,” you defend, walking to pack up your foam rollers. 

You’re met with silence, but you know she’s thinking. Lorelai speaks, “Maybe you should skip out on the shelter today.”

You snort, “Why would I do that?”

Once, sometimes twice a week, you’d volunteer at the local pet shelter. It wasn’t hard work, mostly taking the bigger, more energetic dogs for their runs because it seemed you were the only one who could keep up with their stamina. And now Lorelai is trying to take that away from you. 

“I saw how you struggled at the rink today, there’s not a day you don’t rest. Like, actually rest.”

“That has nothing to do with me struggling!” you retort. 

“What is it then?” she asks, sitting up straighter, defiance in her gaze. “What is it that’s making you skate like you bought your first pair yesterday?”

The irritation is growing into something hotter, her defiance pushing you into a corner. 

“I know what you want to hear from me.” Your voice is shaky. “I’m not going to say it.”

“Because it’s not true? Or because you’ve been convinced it’s not?” 

You know what she’s talking about, and you know you’ve been avoiding the topic like it’s the plague. The ache in your ankle comes alive, and in that moment, you cannot tell if you’re imagining it or not. 

“Convinced by who?” you snap, shoving the box of foam rollers under your desk. 

“Does that have to come from me too?” 

“Lorry, I don’t know what you want from me!” 

“I—”

There’s a knock on your door, loud and demanding. Wrenching it open, you find Marina behind it. 

She has a frown on her face. “You’re still here? I thought you were running with the dogs today?”

“It’s none of your business if she goes or not, Marina.” Lorelai’s tongue drips with venom most commonly reserved for her most hated people. 

Marina, still in her workout clothes and duffel bag, furrows her eyebrows. “Who shoved a pole up your ass?” 

“I’m leaving in five,” you hiss, before making a motion to close the door. 

When you turn around, Lorelai is still on your bed, hands in fists like she’s holding herself back. There’s more behind her eyes than you could even consider unravelling. 

She leaves before you. 

THE ENTIRE WAY TO the rink was just one constant string of prayer. 

All of them go unanswered when you walk in to find the rink full of hockey players in red and black gear. 

The only thing you can do is curse under your breath, only watching frozen in your tracks as a million players skate across the rink passing and yelling at each other. No one you recognise, their helmets and gear eluding any semblance of individuality. 

Where you stand, a little ways away from the plastic screen and the benches, a dark circular puck suddenly slams directly into the boundary at eye level. On instinct, you flinch at the loud bang, half expecting to get hit. 

When you open your eyes, somebody’s skating up to the boundary, and you lock eyes through the cage of his helmet. 

Your blood is suddenly charged with something electric, fingers curling into fists on instinct. 

Suddenly, all that rings in your ears is the distinct jeers of numbers over the muffle of plastic as you continue to fall, and fall, and fall on the cold, unforgiving ice. The amusement in your failure, the joy in your defeat. 

Spinning on your heel, you stalk to Hansol’s office. 

In your blinding anger, you take a wrong turn, looking up to realise you’ve walked into the locker rooms. You’re one step into the men's locker room when you come back to your senses, startling yourself once again as you spin back from where you came, only you’ve been caught. 

For all the luck you’ve received in this life, it seems to opt out at that exact moment as you hear the unmistakable noise of a herd of ogres walking in, the glare of red on the walls surrounding them. Frozen in your spot, you can only grip the straps of your duffel bag harder, tense up like you were preparing for impact. When they turn the corner, the brilliant idea of simply walking towards the women’s locker rooms befalls you. But it’s too late. 

Seungcheol saunters into the hallway, leading the pack. 

His helmet is in his hands instead of on his head, revealing a sopping mop of hair drenched in what you can only imagine is sweat. He’s laughing at his teammate who’s making futile attempts to escape his own helmet, not noticing you in the way. 

Until he does. His smile fades immediately, eyebrows raised as he registers you in the doorway. You feel his gaze on you for a few silent moments, his teammates shushing at the shift in the air. Seungcheol opens his mouth, and you already know all that’s going to leave it is dung. “Didn’t realise the rink had a vacancy. Do I need to show you my ID to take a shower?”

A rustle of chortles and chuckles flitter from the group. “Go ahead. I don’t need an ID to tell you need a shower.”

Somebody ooh’s, despite it not being your best work. You suppose it was your delivery that did it. Deciding to continue riding that high, you simply turn towards the women’s locker rooms, refusing to give Seungcheol the luxury of your eyes on him.

Hurtling into the women’s locker room, you throw your duffel bag somewhere you’ll regret and crumple into one of the seats. You count to ten, attempting to take the image of Seungcheol out of your brain. 

It was difficult to rile you up to this extent, a trait you needed to possess if you were to be coached by Carroll in any capacity. There was so much you heard from her mouth, swallowing it like a prescribed pill and nothing more. Take what you were given, because it was given by the best, bought for you by the best.

Yet for some reason, Seungcheol manages to irk you in ways you previously have never encountered. Irritating people come and go, but you doubt you could place him as something as simple as just irritating. His presence felt like an intrusion, his air was thick like a concentrated gas. Everything he’s said to you so far has come from nothing but disdain and condescension, his haughty personality the only takeaway when he enters a room. 

You’re still in your outdoor shoes and jacket by the time twenty minutes are over, coming to a conclusion as you get up from the empty, soulless locker room. Hansol is in his office when you make the formality knock before barging in. His head is on the desk, like he’s asleep. It takes him a second, by he lifts his forehead from the papers on the tabletop to regard you at the door. You hear him sigh. 

“The hockey team’s done. It’s two.”

“I wanna book a slot.”

“The rink’s empty you don’t—”

“Let me book the slot, Hansol.”

“For fuck’s sake, you’re turning out worse than those baboons,” he curses before setting his forehead back onto the table. “Write it on the sticky note, I’ll put it in the schedule.”

“Now. I wanna book a slot for right now,” you grit. 

Hansol whips his head up again, eyes wide like he’s holding himself back, nodding furiously as he pulls his keyboard towards himself with an unnecessarily aggressive tug. “Fine. 2:16 till closing. Enter. Print. Here.”

He hands you the printed receipt of your slot, ripping it from the printer tray as he does it. You take it from him in the same vigour, hardly a thank you as you spin on your heels and walk out the door. You stop for a minute, turning back around to yell into the office. 

“Go home if you’re just gonna nap on your desk!” 

Not waiting for a response, you stalk towards the locker rooms. Within minutes you’ve tugged on your skates, laptop and shoes in each hand as you emerge out the tunnel to the rink. 

The ice is empty, mostly. Placing your laptop in the sound booth and your shoes under the benches, you step foot on the ice. They’re there, on the other end, sitting on the cold ice with their jerseys still on, eating what looks like cups of dippin dots. 

Seungcheol and Jeonghan, you remember from Lorelai’s squealing, either don’t notice you on the ice, or simply choose not to. Because it’s easy as you skate up to them, gaining speed from across the rink, you slide to a stop, sending a perfect spray of ice from your skates, directly into their ice cream cups. 

Seungcheol’s full spoon hangs mid air, halfway to his mouth, now garnished with ice shavings. 

“Thought you’d have the respect to keep the dippin dots out of this,” Jeonghan comments, disbelief in his eyes as he looks up at you. 

“Ice is booked.” 

“What time?” Seungcheol asks. Your gaze flickers to the left side of his face, a nasty bruise blooming purple and blue that you hadn’t noticed before. 

“2:16. It’s nearly fifteen minutes past.”

“You’re only one person.” He’s significantly more annoyed than when you saw him outside the locker rooms just minutes ago. 

“And?”

“And…you have about 97% of the rink to yourself.”

You raise your brows, hands on your hips. “But I booked 100% of it. So I’m gonna need that plane of ice you’re currently sitting on.” 

“What if I don’t move?” Seungcheol presses. It’s menacing, the way he looks at you, like he’s a lion only waiting to be provoked. Maybe he’s already halfway there, because it sure looks like it. 

“We’ll find out another day,” Jeonghan sings before you can snap back, grabbing onto the collar of Seungcheol’s red and white jersey to yank him up. He continues to glare as he obliges with his friend’s tugs, nearly as angry as you are. “Let’s go, sport.”

You watch as they walk to the exit of the ice, realising they’re wearing their shoes instead of their skates. 

Jeonghan calls from the benches, right before he and Seungcheol move out of view. “Trash those for us, would you?” 

Their half eaten dippin dots cups, with the ice now melting on them remains on the floor of the rink. Once again, the unexplainable urge to kick something befalls you, hearing them laugh and talk from far away as they exit the rink behind their long gone teammates. 

You give in, swinging a leg over to kick the cups and spoons, dippin dots and plastic scattering across the ice. It’s another sprawl of mess you’ll have to clean up, but it feels good to ruin something of his, no matter how inconsequential. The empty rink encourages you, needing to scream so loud the plastic barriers crack and break. You know it’s impossible, but that doesn’t stop the urge. 

You channel it into the most aggressive warmups on ice you’ve ever done. Your spins are faster, your jumps higher. But this also means you crash heavier, fall harder. It’s then, sitting on the bench to take a break, breathing so heavy you can hardly sip your water, you find an unmistakable headline on your browser home page. 

Everything stops. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed center may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

BEFORE EVERYTHING, BEFORE YOUR ankle, before it began to feel like your world was crumbling at your feet, came the scar on your leg. 

In hindsight, it feels like it was the very thing that set the ball rolling, the beginning of your demise. 

Coach Carroll was only on her first handful of sessions with you, Lorelai and Marina, all of you still learning her quirks and expectations as a coach. 

It happened when you were on the sidelines, hanging over the boundary as Lorelai handed you a water bottle from the benches. Marina was practicing her routine, taking up most of the ice as Coach followed on the side. It seemed unclear, to this day, whether you’d drifted inwards on the ice as you sipped from the bottle, unaware. But when you felt the hot searing pain in your calf, there were only two people on the scene. 

Marina skated past, her free leg in the air, meeting your calf as she skated past, effectively slicing into your leg in a deep gash. Blood was wiped off the ice, your leg bandaged and wrapped. Not without Coach and her comments, of course. 

You heard her berate Marina from the other room, for moving closer to the boundary than what was required for her routine, heard the way she gave her the blame. And then she round up on you. 

“Idiot! No reason to be on the ice when you aren’t practicing, did you want it to be your ankles too?!” 

It was the first time you realised that Carroll was beyond your perception of the word demanding, her gaze remained in a high place, no regard for what it took to get there. Even if it meant destroying her skaters. 

Marina apologised. “I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t see you there, I would’ve dropped my leg—”

“It’s okay, Marina. Really,” you smiled through the still aching wound. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

She smiled a little too, “Lesson learned, I guess. Don’t loiter on the ice.” 

It was difficult to keep the smile from fading as you heard her say that.

“What shit apology is that?!” Lorelai yelled as soon as you mentioned it to her later. You cringe as you realise what slipped, and to whom it slipped to. 

“It’s the best I’m gonna get from her, Lorry. Honestly, I don’t care.”

“You’re out of service for a week till that slice heals and that’s all she has to give you?” 

Lorelai is breathing heavily, mostly because she’s been practicing her triple axels for her routine, but also because she’s extensively heated for you. You watch her from the benches. 

“Lorry,” you sigh. 

“Listen, I wanna win too but—”

“Are you trying to say she did it on purpose?” you ask. 

“No! Let me finish, woman,” she snaps. “I wanna win, you wanna win. We’re doing everything we can because we want to win—”

“So this was a subconscious attack?” you interject. 

“Fuck this, I’m leaving,” Lorelai begins to skate backwards and away, leaving you on the bench. 

“NO! Wait, okay, I’m sorry I won’t interrupt.”

“Too late.”

“Lorry! Lorelai!”

It wasn’t until you were back in your shared apartment, Marina out doing whatever while Lorelai hijacked your bed that she got to finish her sentence. She was rubbing ointment on a bruise while you changed the  bandage on your calf. 

“Her need to win is ruining her. And it’s like she’s taking us down with her. I know she doesn’t mean it like that, doesn’t want to hurt us. But she thinks this kind of hurt is good, if it’s the kind of hurt that pushes you to win.”

You cringed at the sight of the wound, still red and ugly. 

“She might not have meant to hurt your leg, but—don’t loiter on the ice? Really?”

“She only meant it as a reminder.”

“Exactly! You don’t need that reminder because I think you’ve learned better than anyone else to not stay on the rink when someone is practising. A couple weeks ago she made some stupid comment because I left the gym early. Nothing inherently rude, she’s never actually rude. But it was pointed anyway. I’ve been up since six in the morning I think I deserve slacking off a little, it was nearly midnight for fuck’s sake!” 

Cleaning the wound was taking everything you had, the need to hiss at the contact of the wet cloth was near abominable. 

“Her…her perception’s a little warped. But her heart’s in the right place!”

Lorelai had rolled her eyes, screwing the cap of her ointment tube back on with unnecessary force. “I never said it wasn’t, just—stop defending her! I’m sorry but half the reason she continues to act like this is because you listen to her.”

At that moment, you felt a little offended. Of course, Marina had her moments where she’d say something a little less than healthy, especially coming from a friend. But you’d always thought you handled it better than most. 

You met Marina when you were still only splotchy faced preteens, during a competition where she came second and you came third. She’d been skating for longer, so it was expected, but you also couldn’t conceal your surprise when you’d found the state of her later on. You were ecstatic simply because you managed to make it to the podium, but it seemed Marina’s tears held another thought process for her. 

You found her crying in the locker rooms later on, her coach who looked like she…should’ve been comforting her, but it was more like a stern talking to, to suck it up and work harder next time round. 

When you tried to help her, out came words you felt oh so strange coming from a stranger. “What do you know? You came third!”

It hurt. Possibly the first genuine stab of the feeling you’d ever felt. In the following weeks, when Marina apologised and you’d begun to build a friendship, you felt something peculiar. Practice sessions on the ice became harder, your two hour sessions were suddenly extending to four, sometimes five hours a day. All of it, your own doing. 

It was subconscious when it was happening, the silent tug of You came third! What you first considered an achievement became an intermediate step. 

If there was anywhere that you’d pinpoint the shift, from when figure skating went from fun to a responsibility, you’d pick that exact moment. When someone congratulated you later on, it wasn’t a big smile and a thank you.

“I only came third.”

Your calf healed and all that was left was a scar, but there in the discolouration of your skin, also lay a realisation. 

SEUNGCHEOL HOSTS ABSOLUTELY ZERO thoughts in his mind as he shoves the collar of his hoodie over his head. Slamming the door shut on the rest of his red SVT paraphernalia, he makes quick work of his hair, shoes on and out the door within the minute. Jeonghan is still fast asleep when he leaves, mouth open and drooling onto his pillow when Seungcheol walks into his room to let him know he’s leaving. 

Jeonghan might tag along to practice for the fun of it despite leaving his competitive hockey career behind him, but his distaste for 6 AM practice remains forever unchanged. He’d see him later though, on the rink lingering once the sun is higher in the sky and Jeonghan deems it less of a sin to be awake. 

Seungcheol leaves without a response from his friend. 

By the time he gets to the rink, most of the team has already geared up. The locker room is splotched with red, moving towards the back of the room to get to his own locker. They weren’t assigned, but he liked to have his claim. He had one in the old rink, the one locker everyone knew was his. And now he has one here, despite the temporary nature of the ordeal. The rest of the boys know to steer clear, as does he for the others who have their lucky spots. 

Mingyu bumps into his shoulder when Seungcheol is looking down, immediately whipping around to bow a full ninety degrees. He’s laughing as he apologises, not really sorry, but Seungcheol is too exhausted to humour him too much. 

He’d been up playing games all night, under the covers in the dark, his phone brightness up too high and his eyes too wide open. He could feel the regret when his alarm blared while it was still dark outside, his eyelids stuck together, refusing to open. It cost him fifteen minutes of warming up, but he’d make it somehow. 

Seungcheol can hear coach Mason’s booming voice from outside, moving closer and closer to hustle the rest of the boys out onto the rink. He shoves his foot into his skates, making sure all that’s left is to lace them up. 

“Look alive, boys! I want you on the ice within the minute,” he booms into the locker room. 

Seungcheol doesn’t look up. When he gets up to leave the locker rooms, his hockey stick and helmet in hand, he’s the last straggling few to leave. Chan earns himself a hard thump on the back from Coach as he scurries out. 

There’s a hand on Seungcheol’s chest as he’s about to exit, Coach stopping him from leaving. 

He looks up, expecting a hard look from Mason, ready to hear a mildly violent threat about being late to call time again. Except Seungcheol finds him with his own gaze on the floor. 

“Rink manager said I could use his office. We should talk there.”

Seungcheol could’ve said he knows what this was going to be about. The game last weekend had less than ideal results, not because they didn’t win, but more so because of the WWE level brawl that went down in the benches during one of the intermissions. 

He tenses, but it was more like he was squaring up. His shoulders are hard, his grip on his hockey stick tighter. Of course, he wasn’t about to swing at his coach, but one could say it was simply a subconscious response. 

The entire walk to the office, Seungcheol thinks of new ways Coach could address his issue. But the gist was always simple. 

Choi, stop fucking fighting. 

He’d usually just rip Seungcheol a new one in front of the boys, berate him and verbally throttle him in the hopes that he’d keep his anger under check. But as they turn towards the door to the office, Seungcheol has to remind himself that this was a first. Being led aside, like he was being led into some formal meeting. 

A plea deal, perhaps?

Choi, what is it going to take?

The office is barren, hardly looks like it’s used with how sparse the equipment is. The amount of dark brown gives it enough warmth to not make it look like some sick form of solitary confinement. That doesn't stop Seungcheol from feeling a hint of pity for whoever has to work here. There’s no nameplate. 

Coach doesn’t take a seat, opting to lean against the table in front of him instead. His arms are folded, and he’s not looking him in the eye. A crawl of suspicion creeps up Seungcheol’s neck, as though in an attempt to ambush him. 

It’s silent in the room as he waits for Coach to speak, refusing to be the one to break it. 

When he does speak, it’s not in his usual Coach voice. Without the built in bass and tremors he was born with. 

“There’s no easy way to break this,” he starts, eyes drifting up to somewhere on the barren walls. “But I’m gonna try my darndest.”

Finally, he feels Coach’s gaze lock with Seungcheol’s expecting pair. 

“They wanna drop you.”

“What?”

Coach squeezes his eyes shut, like he’s recalibrating. “Your contract is up by the end of the season. And the tie wearers and the shoe shiners don't wanna re-sign you.”

Seungcheol’s eyebrows furrow. “What do you mean don’t wanna re-sign me, on what grounds?!”

“You’re temperament—”

“I’ve scored at least two goals for every game you’ve put me in, I’m your most consistent player!”

“They have no qualms with you when you’re on the ice.”

Seungcheol knows where this is going. He knows what knocked up alley this is turning to and he hates it. “Which is all that should matter.”

“In most cases.”

“Is this about last weekend? You didn’t hear him, he deserved more than a broken fucking nose—”

“I didn’t need to hear him, because I know. I know he’s a jackass, I know they’re all jackasses! They know that too. You need to learn to let things go, let them chirp—”

“He was coming on to my mother!” Seungcheol bellows, now properly angry. He remembers the guy’s name, Jason or something. 

“His coach came onto my entire bloodline when we were young, this is Kim’s strategy! You’re playing right into their hands like a dog! For fuck’s sake, Choi! Punching someone in the chiclets isn’t always the answer!” Coach Mason is shaking his hands in front of him like some violent prayer. 

Seungcheol drops his hockey stick and helmet, mouth open as he huffs and puffs. He wants to pace, wants to point his fingers at Coach and make a few threats of his own. 

“Just—”

Seungcheol rounds up on him. “Seungkwan punched a guy in the mouth. Wonwoo kicked one in the balls.”

“Seungcheol. This is becoming nearly. Every. Single. Game. Not the occasional tousle we can pull people out of. You can’t keep sending people to the hospital, it’s a wonder nobody's pressed charges yet!”

“So that’s it? I’m being punished because some dick runs his mouth?” 

“This is about you, Seungcheol. You need to get a fucking grip. You’ve started picking at your own teammates, shoving Mingyu around—seriously?”

Seungcheol’s mouth opens but nothing leaves it. He ends up gaping like a fish. 

For all that it was worth, for everything he’d been through, Seungcheol always assumed his seat was safe. Always assumed he’d have the position he does. Because he showed results, won them nearly every game and put up a damn good fight in the ones they didn’t. 

Seungcheol knew he was an asset, but not for one minute, stop to realise that this was all

conditional. 

For everything he did for this team, for every fiber of his being he poured into its chalice, they were spitting it all right back into his face. Chewed and warped and rid of anything worth salvaging. 

The red in his chest, back, stomach, spelling out the unmistakable letters of his team. The red in his helmet that rests beside the red in his hockey stick. 

“Listen, as much of a pain in the ass you are, you’re good fucking player. And as far as I’m concerned, that’s all that matters. But it’s not up to me, so we need to work around that. They’re worried about the repercussions of your behaviour. And you are gonna make sure you keep yourself in check.” 

Coach walks closer, finger digging into Seungcheol’s chest through his jersey. “I want no more fights, no more kicking and punching and swearing no matter how much that motherfucker deserves it, I don’t care. Do whatever it takes. God knows I’ll never forgive you if you make me agree to those prissy hands in suits.”

Coach left Seungcheol in the barren office, stepping over his stick and helmet as he exited the room, leaving him alone. His fingers flex under his gloves, like he’s trying to remind himself to stay in the moment. His exhales are stronger than his inhales, his vision blurring as the desk turns into two, and then disappears for a second. 

He can hear the distinct sound of the puck slamming into hockey sticks. Practice had started. By the time Seungcheol walks out, he’s the last person to go through the mandatory drills. 

The rink is mostly empty as the team gears up for a practice match, leaving Seungcheol enough reign to slam into every puck like he had some personal vendetta against every last one. It’s one after the other, sent directly into the open net, waiting. 

Practice goes fine, as good as it could go with the scrambled eggs that had become of Seungcheol’s mental state. He found himself whipping his head around to Jun when he fumbled an assist, face scrunched under his helmet as he prepared to send him to hell in a handbasket. 

He sees Jun physically tense up in defense, and the insult (for once) dies on Seungcheol’s tongue. 

“Just—keep up, alright,” he says instead. His tone is empty, and on a downward slope. 

If anyone finds it odd, they don’t say. 

It’s a couple more hours of passes, assists and hollers across the ice, regrouping the teams every so often to keep the rotation consistent. 

Over here, everyone is in red, everyone is on his side. The bleachers are empty, devoid of spectators to watch him lose his cool on anything. But he thinks of the way Jun recoiled, like he was preparing for the worst of his teammate’s words. He and Jun are friends. 

Somewhere amidst his thoughts, the puck flies directly into Seungcheol’s face, banging into the cage of his helmet with a noise that resonates across the rink. He’s startled enough to skate back a little, not before hearing another resounding thwack! from next to him. The puck rebounded from his helmet and hit the plastic barrier with a noise that had everyone looking over. 

Skating up to where the puck fell back onto the ice, he looks up to where it hit the barrier. 

Through the plastic he sees…you. You're staring at the same spot he is, where there’s a slight mark from the force of the rubber. 

And then your eyes drift up, locking with his own. 

Like every other person he’s around, he watches you tense up. But it’s laced with something more than just bracing for impact. 

It’s apprehension, your form turbulent and agitated. It’s all he can see when you spin on your heels and walk away in the opposite direction from him. 

The all too familiar irritation sparks in the back of Seungcheol’s mind, as it does when you’re around. All he does is slam his stick into the ice with force, pushing the puck back into the middle of the rink. 

They’re nearly done by that point, and he finds that Jeonghan has graced himself in the benches. He’s wearing his old jersey, likely because he doesn’t want Coach to notice him and accuse him of distracting his players. 

Jeonghan would’ve gotten away with it anyway. 

Seungcheol tells him to wait up, walking towards the locker room with the rest of the rest of the team to wash up. He finds some reprieve in Seungkwan’s attempts at fumbling with his helmet, letting out a laugh as he fights with it. Looking up as they take the turn towards the locker rooms as a group, he somehow finds himself in your presence, again. 

It’s the same thing, like you’ve been connected to a faulty circuit and you’re trying not to show it. You look like you want to say something but all Seungcheol can do is send a snarky remark of his own. 

Even as you walk away after the ordeal, he feels anything but settled. 

It’s like the world has it out for him, because as he opts to stalk back to where Jeonghan was, forgoing a shower, there’s only another calamity waiting for him. 

Jeonghan is in the rink, sitting on the ice with two cups of what looks like dippin dots. He looks up when he hears his treads on the ice, having taken his skates off already. Seungcheol crumples to the ground and on the ice next to his friend. 

The first words he utters are the only ones that’ve been on his mind all day. “They want to drop me.”

Jeonghan only grimaces in response, only running his hands through his hair as he sighs loudly. “I know. I heard.”

Seungcheol perks up, head lifting from the ice. “...How?”

That’s how Seungcheol has Jeonghan’s phone so close to his face he’s hardly an inch away from the screen. He reads and reads and reads. And his blood boils and boils and boils. 

!HOT TOPIC! 

SEAT AT RISK FOR SVT HOCKEY TEAM’S SHINING STAR? Read All About It Here! 

Choi Seungcheol’s seat for next season at risk? Insider reports that the hot headed centre may be at risk of contract termination due to recent controversy. The hockey player, renowned for his aggressive playing tendencies, seems to be taking his temperament outside of the rink. Multiple games played by SVT have been subject to eventful halves and quarters, the center seen getting violent in the benches with opposing team members, and sometimes even team members of his own! While his short temper has always been a recurring subject in the news, his skills as a player have always remained top notch—we do wonder if he even has to try! The tables seem to turn a little differently this time around though, because it looks that SVT higher ups have been fed up with the increasing reports of Choi’s aggressive behaviour. Insider sources report that talks of a contract termination may be coming into order. While he has proven to be an effective player on the ice, it seems as though it won’t be saving him from this particular ramification! 

Stay tuned, hockey fanatics, as we bring you more updates on Choi’s sticky situation! 

Of course, to add to the absolute media pandemonium, you had shown up on the rink itself after Seungcheol had to read through the entirety of that stupid article. Jeonghan was smart to pull him away from the situation before he wrapped both his hands around your neck in an ultimatum. 

The way you stood there, hip popped like you owned the damn place, face haughty and demanding. You stood while they sat, looking down at Seungcheol like he was some pesky ant. There was nothing he would’ve rather done in that moment than swing his leg clean across your ankles, and watch in delight as you crash onto the ice in front of him. 

“What the fuck is her problem?” he grits as soon as he’s in the locker rooms. Collecting his things to leave and take a shower at home. 

Jeonghan walks behind him, hands in his pocket in idleness as he watches his friend pack up. He’s humming a tune that’s possibly too familiar to Seungcheol. “Hm. She does seem a little wound too tight.”

“Wound too tight?! I’ve seen her thrice just today and every single time she looks like she wants to skin my fucking hide!”

Jeonghan only snorts. “Thing two isn’t any better. She’s cute though.”

Seungcheol whips around. “Who gets that territorial over a sound booth?!”

“Down, boy,” Jeonghan soothes, half in jest. “Surprised she isn’t here today either.”

“Yeah, you’d like to see her.”

“I would, actually, yes. What was her name?”

“Something to do with a train or a bus or something—”

“Lorry! Right,” Jeonghan furrows his brows. “I don’t think that’s her real name.”

Seungcheol throws his duffle bag over his shoulder as he motions he’s done. “I don’t think anyone who actually loves their child would name them after a bus.”

Jeonghan halts in his steps. “My dead dog’s name was Lorry.”

Seungcheol is extra nice for the rest of the way home. 

SEUNGCHEOL CAN'T SLEEP.

His dreams are full of voices, of every single teammate he’s ever had. The junior league, his high school team, up to his college team, and finally, his team right now. 

They’re all murmuring like they were paid to do it, uttering the same things, over and over. He doesn’t belong here, they don’t want him here, he doesn’t deserve what he has. 

And with the way his heart is racing when he jolts awake, cold sweat and all, he realises he’s kicked his blanket off of him sometime during the night. He looks over to his alarm clock that glares bright in the dark of his room; 5:08 AM.

He doesn’t need to be up, but it seems his own subconscious has given him a good enough scare to make sure every last essence of sleep escapes him. He lays on his back, catching his breath like he just ran a marathon. 

Seungcheol hasn’t woken up from a nightmare like this since middle school, one that knocks the breath from his lungs and fills his head with all the horrible things in the world. With every moment that passes after that conversation with Coach Mason, his ordeal becomes increasingly real. 

In that moment, laying in his bedroom, staring blankly at the dark ceiling above, he wonders if he’s made the right choice to come this far. 

With all the confidence he’s exuded, the thought is downright terrifying. 

Seungcheol was a difficult child. Too much energy, too much to say, too much to do. His parents didn’t know the first thing about hockey, just that it involved enough hitting and running and practice to let their son let out all that pent up energy, so maybe, just maybe, he’d sit still and do his homework. While they attempted to sign him up at the local rink, he was already zooming out towards the benches to see the fabled giant block of ice his parents told him about. 

And there it was, just like in the movies, a giant expanse of ice that made him shiver even in his thick Winnie The Pooh puffer vest. There’s sounds, loud ones, of deep clacks that echo across the rink. It seems to be coming from the dozens of people skating on the rink, decked out in red gear. 

SVT, he reads on their jerseys. 

His mother chides him for straying when they finally find him near the gate, watching the team practice. The rink manager is there as well, showing his parents around. 

“The SVT’s practice here and have a junior league too, but I’m afraid it’s full. But our coach is great too, I’m sure he’ll do well.”

Seungcheol’s parents didn’t mind, but he wanted those jerseys, wanted his name in red splashed across his back as he glided across the ice. 

It didn’t take long for his coach and his parents to realise that putting him in a helmet was a good idea. He was smoking the rest of the kids from day one, his balance on the ice better than any other his age, his hold on a hockey stick like second nature, his aim as he hit his first puck, dazzling. 

As he got older, entering his preteen and teen years, he had another realisation. That he was as horrible at school as he was good at hockey. 

“Perhaps you should take a break from hockey,” his high school guidance counsellor had said. His grades were displayed in front of her like a case study, the hopeless clear in her intermittent sighs and the occasional purse of her lips. “Utilise that time to fix at least one of your grades. Pour all your eggs in one basket.”

The thought was absurd. No, he would not be dropping hockey when it was the only thing that pushed him to wake up in the morning. 

He’d felt the tremble of irritation rise in himself, sitting there in that office. It angered him, made him feel like his success was measured by a criteria not made for him. He had said nothing as he slipped out of chair and left the room. 

The day before his graduation, sweat dripping onto the ice as he sent free pucks into the net, he was missing more than he was getting in. It was making him more mad than it should, hands shaking with fury as he berated himself for not being able to succeed in something so simple.

His last puck was before him, and he swung his stick harder than ever and watched as it flew directly into the net. The sound is louder than usual, resonating across the rink. Seungcheol looked down at the detached pieces in his hand and quickly realised that he’d effectively broken his hockey stick.

It wasn’t expensive, so the quality wasn’t nearly what it should be, wasn’t nearly as durable. But this was new to him. He’d never broken a stick before. 

Anger. Perhaps that was what he'd forgone, perhaps that was what he needed. To get on his knees from his back, to get on his feet from his knees. 

When he graduated the next day, Seungcheol knew what he was going to do with his life. Finally had an answer for the infinite questions about his future. 

Hockey. Seungcheol was going to play hockey for the rest of his life. He was going to get into SVT, he was going to become the best player they’ve ever had. He was going to make more money than what he would have as a doctor or a lawyer or whatever else the entire world wanted him to do instead. 

Seungcheol was going to be on the ice wearing red if it’s the last thing he does. 

That’s what pushes him out of bed at 8:45 in the morning, his dream that was once in his hands now flitting through the gaps of his fingers. 

The anger that pushed him here, was now pushing him out. 

He packs his things and leaves the house, welcoming the cold of the outdoors. 

There’s the distinct sound of blade cutting through ice when he gets nearer to the rink itself, a shout of a shrill voice he can’t decipher. Official practice doesn’t start for another couple hours, and he doesn’t remember Coach Mason cutting the pitch in his voice for anything ever. There’s only one other person that could possibly be gracing the rink.

Seungcheol finds three people on the rink. The bright red curly mop of hair catches his eye first, her arms folded over her green puffer jacket, apprehension in her entire posture. He assumes this is your coach. 

There’s a blonde one breathing heavily as she straightens out of a spin, listening to the coach as she shakes her head violently as she speaks. 

Seungcheol finds you a little ways away from the pair, practising jumps. 

He doesn’t emerge into the benches, remaining in the shadows where he wouldn’t be so blaringly obvious. There’s no reason for him to hide, but he doesn’t think of this as hiding. 

Seungcheol watches for the next few minutes, watches you make most of your jumps, fall for some. Your coach shouts for particular names for jumps, something about axels and lutz’ that he can’t tell the difference from when put into action. At least he thinks that’s what you’re doing. 

And then he hears it as your coach moves closer to the barriers. “What’s gotten into you? Keep acting this stupid and I’ll excuse myself from the job, I have better people to coach.”

Her tone, her words, the sharp edge of her tongue, it’s all triggering a very specific part of Seunghceol’s brain. 

“Is it your ankle? Because if it is, then I’m here to tell you to get out of your own head. Your ankle is fine, you wouldn’t be able to get on the ice at all if it wasn’t.” 

There it comes. Those words aren’t directed towards Seungcheol, nor could they apply to him in any capacity. But the way this coach is speaking is making him irrationally angry. 

“Are you gonna keep pretending you have a handicap? Because if you are then I have no work here.”

“I’m sorry.” 

For whatever reason, the sound of you apologising makes the fire rage doubly. It’s enough to blur his vision, enough to make him question what on earth this coach could have on you to let her speak to you in that way. 

The choice words are already in his head as he claps back in his own head, like he was the one at the receiving end. 

He doesn’t stay, disappearing even further into the tunnel to where the locker rooms are. He doesn’t understand why he’s huffing and puffing as much as he is. All that occupies him is what possible reasons you could have to just take it lying down. 

Seungcheol’s phone vibrates in his pocket, slipping it out to realise it’s Jeonghan. 

He picks up, and barely has time to say hello before his voice perks up from the other line. “Where are you?” He sounds like he just woke up. 

“I’m at the rink.”

“Why is your angry voice on?”

“My angry voice is not—” he begins to grit, seething, but closes his eyes and takes a moment. “I’m not mad.”

“Do I need to sing?”

“No, you do not have to sing—”

“Everything is honey—”

“Jeonghan, stop!”

“—everywhere I see—”

Seungcheol hangs up before he can go on. To his utmost irritation, he feels significantly calmer. 

The rink is devoid of your red headed coach when Seungcheol makes his way there after a few minutes. The blonde one is nowhere to be seen, leaving you alone in the rink as you skated across the expanse. He only watches as you land the couple attempts at jumps, the ice breaking ground in a spray every time you put pressure on your blades. 

Seungcheol is just standing there, blank faced with an empty head. His mind was quiet for the first time since he’d woken up that morning. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing there, standing idle as he follows your figure around the rink like a fixation point. 

The sound is more consistent, less of the loud jabs of hockey sticks meeting the ice, more constant lines of scraping as you migrate across the rink. The speakers boom no sound, but the musicality in the noise of the ice is enough to imagine a rhythm. 

No part of him desires getting on the ice to oust you out, no part of him wants to touch his hockey stick that sits in the locker room. He doesn’t need extra practice, not with hockey at least. 

And when you notice him, unmoving in the benches, he watches as something hard overcomes your expression. You skate over, and he keeps his gaze fixated on the ice.

Skating up to the gate, he sees in his peripheral vision as you slip on your skate guards, stepping out into the real world. 

“You don’t have the rink booked, I checked,” you huff, moving to find your things on the other set of benches. 

Seungcheol’s jaw tenses. “I don’t want the rink right now.”

“And yet the ghost loiters.”

“I’m here to tell you to start filling in the stupid craters your skates make in the ice. The guys keep tripping.” 

“You big hockey thugs getting defeated by a toe pick?” 

Seungcheol turns to finally look at you, and you look nothing as graceful as you did on the ice. He wants to scoff. 

You continue, “I have to deal with your stupid barriers fucking up my sound system. I think your guys can deal with a couple digs in the ice.” 

“Great, we’ll just lose a couple teeth, who really gives a fuck.” 

“If this is about giving fucks,” you get up from your water break, leaving the bench. “Do me a favour and forget your mouth guard next time. Let the puck punch you in the mouth if I can't."

Seungcheol’s entire being is ablaze. He reshuffles his footing. “What the fuck is your problem?”

“My problem?” you repeat, voice moving a pitch higher. “My fucking problem is that you and your overgrown posse of baboons drop in here out of the blue and then act like you own the damn place!”

“Right, because it’s your name on the fucking lease. Excuse us for trespassing on public property!”

You’re yelling. Seungcheol is yelling. It’s either that or the hollow of the rink is now carrying your voices farther out. 

“I’ve had enough of you acting like you don’t take up this entire fucking space!” Your arms wave wildly, gesturing to the large area of the rink. “You’re everywhere, all the fucking time, it’s sickening!”

“Everywhere, huh?” He takes a step closer to you. And then another. He revels in the sight of your face turning a splotchy red. “Thought I was only a bother on the ice? Where else have I been plaguing you in mystic hallucinations?”

Seungcheol’s eyes give away nothing but provocation. He knows he didn’t start this, but in the true essence of who he is, he would be the one to end it. 

It’s clear you’re taken aback. At this moment, he’s the closest he’s ever been to you. But it’s for nothing if it isn’t to press on you further, to tower over you and your outburst. 

“Get your head out of the gutter, you brute.”

“Then is it not me taking up all your space?” he asks. “Because there’s three feet of air between us, and yet the least in our very short time together.”

He watches as you take a small step back.

“So where else have I been any closer, so consistently, if it wasn’t part of your imagination?”

There’s a certain kind of venom in your stare, in the sneer that lifts your mouth, enough to ensure that it’d render him six feet deep. But he lives in reality, so he deems it safe to take another step closer. 

“You’re a screw up,” you almost whisper. Appalled and scandalised. 

“So I’ve been told,” Seungcheol breathed. “But something tells me we’re not so different in that department.”

“You don’t know a thing about me.”

“I know that I’m all you can think about,” he says, eyebrows raised. “That feels like a lot. You’d agree, because everywhere, all the fucking time is a lot.” 

Seungcheol has hardly finished his sentence before he feels the light breeze of you gathering your few things, shouldering him hard and walking away from him. Into the tunnel, into the locker rooms, into hell, wherever it was that you ended up by the close of the day. 

He isn’t afraid to admit that he stumbled.

LORELAI HAD MADE IT quite clear that any figure skating talk was off the table, and talk surrounding Marina even more so. You tried not to point out the obvious predicament, but the fact that you lived with Marina did not affect her demand. 

Miraculously, not talking about skating or Marina was the most free you’d felt in ages. It was mildly embarrassing in the beginning, when on a run with Lorealai who was also helping out at the dog shelter, because you realised all you talked about was, maybe not Marina, but definitely a lot of skating. 

You slow down a little to give Kkuma a couple minutes to breathe, but Lorealai is still running at her pace with her significantly more energetic husky, Bennie. 

“Stay there, I’ll catch up!” she yells over her shoulder as she takes the left around the block to circle back. 

You oblige, moving to a walking pace as Lorelai appears from behind you after a couple minutes. She slows to a jog and loiters around you for a minute, you increase your speed to match hers. 

“Jeonghan…” she pauses to take a breath. But your interest is piqued, especially if she was talking about the same Jeonghan you were thinking about. “Jeonghan invited me to the game this weekend.”

Hold. 

“What?” you snap.

“Game. This weekend,” she huffs, still breathing heavily. 

“Like, a hockey game?” you ask, brows furrowed. 

“No, for disney on ice,” she announces. “They’re doing beauty and the beast, Jeonghan’s the beauty, Seungcheol is the beast. It’s a whole production, really. Real good stuff.”

You can only roll your eyes at the elaborate sarcasm. She continues, “Of course, it's a hockey game! What else do they do at that rink all day?”

“Gosh, sorry,” you frown. “Since when do you talk to Jeonghan?”

She looks over, wicked smile on her face. “Since I found him on Instagram.”

“You followed him?”

“No, why would I do that? Bumped into him at the gym a while ago, and we went out for coffee afterwards.”

Nothing of the ordeal is making sense, your brows still knit together and your mouth downturned in confusion. 

“Catch you in a minute!” she yelps as she takes off into a run again, Bennie right next to her as she circles round again. 

The few minutes that it’s just you and tiny Kkuma are flooded with questions. How did she just bump into Jeonghan? Lorelai hardly goes to the gym. Asking her to come to the hockey game? 

And then worst of all. 

Are they dating? 

By the time Lorelai is back, she’s out of breath again, and fully unequipped to answer all of the questions you shoot at her like rapid fire. 

“Why were you at the gym? He’s a junior league coach, he’s not even gonna be playing!”

“God!” she groans, heaving. “Slow…down.”

“Fine!” You stop in your tracks entirely, to which Lorelai is happy to oblige as she crouches with her hand on her knees. Bennie tugs at her leash, the big bounding ball of fluff ready to race the winds again. 

You count to ten, hands on your hips as Kkuma lets out a small, confused yip now that you’re completely idle on the track. 

“Talk.” 

With an all too dramatic flip of her short hair, she pulls herself up and into an explanation. “I couldn’t tell you because we weren’t talking when it all happened.”

It’s true, it did take a while for you to go back to normal after that run in with Marina in your bedroom. You suppose it won’t be happening again with the new no-Marina-talk rule, since she seemed to be quite the common factor in many of your rifts over the years. 

“I went to the gym to blow off some steam—don’t look like that, I’m being serious!” 

You make an attempt at fixing your face as she continues. 

“He saw me first and came up to say hi. Went our separate ways but once we finished up he asked if I wanted to grab a coffee since we were both done working out.” 

“And you said yes?”

“I said yes. Because he is cute, and I had been stalking his very public Instagram and it was just the perfect opportunity!” 

“So you’re dating?” you ask sharply. 

“I don’t know.”

“He asked you to the game?” you point out. 

“Well, yes, but he hasn’t asked me asked me.” Somewhere in her voice there’s the tiniest hint of disappointment. “Besides, he said to bring you as well.”

“Fuck no.”

“Come ooon! Jeonghan’s gonna be in the benches and I don’t know anyone else there!” she whines. 

“Hey, we should switch dogs!” you announce as you yank Bennie’s leash out of Lorelai’s hands, stuffing  Kkuma’s leash into her free hand. 

You take off into a sprint, and Bennie is happy to keep up with you as you quite literally run away from the situation. Lorelai is yelling your name, her annoyance abundant. 

Ignoring her is easy. Just the thought of walking into one of those games is enough to force a scoff, to watch your rink inhabited with like minded buffoonery as they ruin the bleachers and the ice. 

By the time you make it back, the hilarity of the situation hasn’t left you. And it seems neither has Lorelai, who remains standing with Kkuma at her feet, waiting to trap you. 

It’s the easiest thing to do, to turn right back around and circle the other way. 

“You can’t run away from me forever!” she shouts behind you as you disappear again. 

Maybe you couldn’t, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight. 

“You can’t run away from Seungcheol forever! Quit pretending like you aren’t dying to fall into those giant arms!” Lorelai has a very specific talent of injecting all the drama in the world in the tone of her voice. She’s sure to utilize that skill as she hollers after you. 

That seems to do it for you, slowing down, half ready to whip around and holler a profanity or two right back. 

You’re more triggered than usual, but mostly because all the jab does is remind you of the last time you saw him. The arrogance in his demeanor, the way he belittled you with just his eyes, the shadow of his towering frame, caging you like a lost animal. 

You hated it. Despised it. Despised him. His disgusting innuendos, the all so misleading innocence on his face as he cornered you with both his body and his words. 

Lorelai could deal you whatever card there was tied up her sleeve, but getting you anywhere near the rink for the game this weekend was going to require more than just dessert bribes and sweet talking. Dragging you by the ankles could be a possibility, but all for naught when you dig your nails in anyway. 

It was impossible. Not doable. Non-existent in the cards of your destiny. A repelling force. 

So why, would one ask, were you decked out in the most  heinous red scarf with the letters SVT stitched on like a warning, sitting in the bleachers and looking down at the same rink you practice your spins and jumps in everyday? 

Neither you or Lorelai could answer that question, both your stories as blurry as fog as to how either of you managed to get you in that fabled seat. 

You could see the exact place you and Seungcheol had your last showdown, the opposing team in black now occupying that side of the benches. The thought puts you in an impossibly sour mood. It’s not like Lorelai could say anything about it, half because she knows you’re one snide remark away from jumping into the merch table, and half because she was too busy making heart eyes at Jeonghan who’s just spotted her in her seat. 

“I’ll be back,” she informs haphazardly as she positively bounds down the steps to the end of the bleachers, where Jeonghan waits for her. The people in their seats shuffle, annoyed at the overenthusiastic fan who practically slides down in front of their legs towards the railing. But Lorelai couldn’t care less, not with what stood beyond that very railing. 

Tearing your eyes away from the lovebirds, you take in the hustle and bustle of the pregame happenings, most of the bleachers in disarray as they humour the merch stands and the food stalls. The rink smells different because of it, both the added number of food trucks and drink stands, but also with the amount of people that occupy the expanse. 

The only times you see the rink this packed is when you’re too wracked with nerves to notice anything other than your own two feet. Hands wringing and head spinning, the chaos of the world is nothing against the pandemonium in your mind. You’re usually wearing a sparkly dress that glitters even from the very last row of bleachers, hair taut and makeup caked on like a layer of icing. 

Taking your time, you let your eyes flit over all that you forgo the other times. The stands are a mix of red and black, and so are the benches and ice that are occupied by men in full hockey gear. 

You’re too high up to make out the names on the back of all those jerseys, let alone a face underneath the already concealing helmets. The problem is forgotten when you feel the weight of two hands slam against your folded arms, tugging you out of your seat like it was stolen property. 

“Jeonghan said we could sit closer to the benches downstairs!” Lorelai is frantic, like this wasn’t a matter of reserved seats but the last plane to leave hell itself. 

“Lor—” Finishing a sentence when she’s in this state is a luxury you learn quickly to live without, because all that concerns her right now is getting closer to the man that seems to have enraptured her like never before. 

It’s disgusting. But you follow her anyway, down the steps that you nearly eat shit on, gracefully of course, because what figure skater doesn’t fall with an epic crash worthy of an Expendables cameo. You stabilise yourself enough to get to the seats Lorelai is talking about, and sure enough, Jeonghan would barely have to get on his tiptoes to hoist himself into the bleachers altogether. You question the safety of the context but decide that it wasn’t your problem if someone decided to pounce on one of the players. 

Besides, you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t revel in the absolute scene of Seungcheol getting jumped by an over-passionate fan. You’re suddenly very grateful for the front row seats. 

There’s a bucket of chicken tenders and fries in your lap out of nowhere, matching the one in Lorelai’s hands. “Also Jeonghan?” you hum as you inspect the sauce options. 

“Mhm, he’s friends with the vendor outside,” she grins. 

You narrow your eyes at the revelation, finding it utmost strange how close he seems to be with nearly everyone. “Why is he on the benches, again?” you ask. 

“Because—” she draws before you cut her off. 

“Friends with the coach?”

“How’d you know?!” she exclaims. Her attention is diverted as the speakers suddenly boom with something other than generic pop music. So is yours, when you hear a deep baritone of a commentator’s voice carries throughout the rink. 

The shuffle around you is suddenly doubling in speed, everyone getting into their seats. You look over in front of you, where the benches are in an equally panicked shuffle. You spot Jeonghan easily, mostly because he’s one of the few in the vicinity without a helmet or what looks like a giant space suit. The next thing you note is the person he’s talking to, his back turned to you, but familiar all the same. 

CHOI, 95, reads his jersey. Automatically, your jaw clenches.  “Don’t look over there!” Lorelai chides, grabbing your jaw and moving it to force you to rip your eyes away from him. 

“Lorelai, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but unlike your boy toy, he’s actually gonna be on the ice,” you verbalise through clenched teeth. 

“Don’t look at the ice,” she blurts. 

Rolling your eyes, you only listen as she realises what she’s said. “Okay, um, look at Jeon instead! Or Kim, or Boo, just. For god’s sake, there’s fifty other players on the ice, just don’t let one of them ruin your night!” 

“I’m fine,” you grumble, sinking into your seat. 

It isn’t long before your eyes trail over anyway, and Seungcheol still doesn’t have his helmet on. You can see his face now, and he looks like he’s mad at Jeonghan about something. 

Inevitably, your mind wanders to the fated article that somehow made its way into your recommended, the certainty it put in you that Seungcheol didn’t stand a chance in his team anymore. It seemed true enough, his anger, that he continues to display, seemed to be his default emotional setting. 

Your hockey knowledge was subpar at best, but one thing you did know was the aggression factor of the sport. Of all the things that could cut his career clean down the middle, this was the last of your guesses.  

Even now, as you watch him absentmindedly point and jerk like his supposed friend had managed to bring him something that was personally offensive, it’s all connecting too well. 

But when you snap into reality, you realise very quickly that he was pointing…at you. 

Seungcheol is mad that Jeonghan (effectively) brought you to the match. 

A chortle of disbelief is quick to make itself known, wanting to yell across the throng that you were every bit as upset that he was in your vicinity too. It also brings you satisfaction, a pure grain of hope, that maybe this would be enough for him to completely fuck up on the ice today. 

You say a quick amen before the baritone of the commentator makes itself known again. The echo is too much for you to decipher what’s going on, but you have your answer when you watch the reds and the blacks form what looks like a line across the width of the rink, right in the center. 

You don’t register when the puck landed, or if it was always there, just that the loud clacks and bangs are in tandem with the cheer from the crowds. The puck is an impossible commodity to keep up with, even with just your eyes. It appears for a moment before it’s lost again, shooting around in your peripheral vision like a pesky fly you can never get a hold of. 

“What is happening?” you whisper to yourself. 

Lorelai answers anyway, snorting, “Fuck if I know.”

The numbers on the lit screens are doing nothing to help out your predicament, too much happening for you to even begin to deconstruct. You choose to lay back and enjoy your chicken tenders and fries, complimenting the sauce choices to Lorelai along the way, who continues to calibrate her attention on the man that remains in the benches. Jeonghan looks over periodically to send her a wave and a blinding smile. 

You’ve made a good enough dent in your chicken and fries bucket by the time it’s intermission, about ready for a drink by now. Lorelai makes herself useful and runs down to get you both something, mostly because Jeonghan was now more focused on the team that’s huddled around one another, another man you assume is their coach huddled right with them. 

The scores are 2-2, as provided by the person behind you who was apparently sick of your placid obliviousness. It did feel slightly awkward to be the only person not as excited to be front and center, so you remind yourself to thank him profusely. 

Your attention drifts back to the benches, inevitably as you’ve been so unfortunately placed to be able to breathe down the player’s necks. They’ve dispersed from their huddle, but are not yet on the ice. They’re sitting down, catching their breaths, drinking from water bottles. On the other side, the opposing team, a sea of black and white flooding their own end of the benches. It’s a sinking colour, not an ounce of depth in the shade. It’s taking over the benches. 

Except it’s the players that are moving, like they’re diffusing into the scarlet territory. 

You watch, as one player in black moves his mouth, speaking, upturned and eyebrows cocked. It’s clear he’s gone well past enemy lines, the front lines suddenly at attention. There’s not much you can make out, nothing much besides the very haughty expression on the player’s face. His eyes are covered by the sweaty mop on his head, but you don’t need to see them to find the malice that infiltrates his entire stance.

The scene, where both sides seem to be closing in on each other, has you automatically sitting up straighter. The air is going static, especially as you realise the player's mouth is moving faster as he jabs at — Seungcheol. 

They’re fighting, only verbally for now, but it’s undeniable the way the heat grows by the second. All you can see is the back of Seugncheol’s jersey as he begins to step back from the ordeal, like he was fighting the urge to take a step forward instead. 

Jeonghan’s hand is on Seungcheol’s elbow, and one glance at the rest of the players on this side shows every last one on edge. Their coach is nowhere to be seen. 

But he doesn’t stop talking, still standing in their territory. He yells something loud enough to hear the pitch of his voice, but not nearly enough to understand what he’s saying. 

You could see it on the player’s face. Hook, line and sinker. 

It happens so suddenly. Seungcheol surges forward like a dart, something flies out and hits the player square in the face. 

Seungcheol had spat his mouth guard into his face. 

You gasp out loud as you register what’s happening. The player removes his hand from his face, and for some reason, emerges grinning. 

Seungcheol swings first, his fist rising and coming down on his cheek with a sound you can hear. You feel nauseous. 

It’s pandemonium. You can see Jeonghan practically on top of Seungcheol, a number of other players attempting to get him off the man he continues to grab and shake up like a fugitive. The other player is throwing his own punches.

For one, horrifying moment, the force of the punch pushes Seungcheol’s face towards the stands enough to let you get an eyeful. All you see is red, beyond just his jersey. His mouth is full of blood, the front of his jersey dripped with it, his knuckles clustered with it. 

The hand clasped around your mouth is your own, eyes blown in horror. 

All around you, the world has their phones out like it was some show meant just for them, like this was exactly what they came here for. 

It’s sickening. Sickening. 

You brave another look, and they’ve been yanked off of one another. Seungcheol is being pushed down the tunnel and away from sight. Jeonghan has his hands clutched around Seungcheol like he’s nearly ready for another outbreak, his face grim. 

Your eyes keep away from Seungcheol’s face on purpose.  “Goodness, what is going on, I could barely get through the crowd,” Lorelai’s irritated voice infiltrates your ears, and you’re immediately brought back down to earth. 

Arms full of more snacks and drinks, it only takes her one look at your rattled self to know. 

“What happened?”

“I…they were…fighting. I don’t know, it just—Seungcheol was throwing punches and there was…blood, so much blood.”

She’s gotten a grip on your hand, her fingers warm under your cold, shivering ones. “Do you wanna leave?” she asks slowly. 

One look over her shoulder is enough to tell you it’d be impossible. Everyone was too excited to care to cater to two people going in the opposite direction of the action. So you tell her there was no point, and you attempt to calm your racing heart as she sits next to you. 

Snagging one of the packs from her mountain of snacks, you rip it open and let the sickly sweet smell infiltrate your nostrils. Popping one of the confections in your mouth, it’s hard to not make a face. It’s the sourest thing you could’ve picked, the tartness enough to distract you from the outside world. Eyes scrunched closed, you swallow the rush of saliva to ask Lorelai what the fuck she brought.

You chortle, and it has Lorelai looking over. “Whoops! That one’s mine.”

She snags the bag from your loosened grip, replacing it with a tamer bag of original flavoured potato chips. The chips are trying, but there’s not much you can do besides wait for the residues of the godawful candy to subside. 

The ordeal seems to have calmed you the slightest bit, finally able to turn back to the ice. The rink is back to being occupied, players from both ends pouring onto the ice. You note a minor shoulder shove at the gate, but look away like it’d stop the calamity from intensifying. 

The game ensues as normal, but you note the blatant absence of CHOI in the sea of red and white jerseys. You don’t mention it, and neither does Lorelai. 

You’re about to burst by the time the finals moments are upon the game, the overtime minutes beginning to tick as the crowd grows restless by the second. With the little you’ve managed to grasp, you’re sure that SVT is only one goal away from the overtake. It’s making you nervous, like you’re waiting for your own score to be announced after a free skate. 

The puck is a mere percentage easier to navigate after a couple hours of keeping after it; it skips between players you’re beginning to recognise from the back of their jersey. Kim, Boo, Wen, Kim, Lee. The opposing team intercepts for a moment, and you find yourself letting out an irritated shake of the shoulders. Back to Kim, Lee, Lee, and then, right into the net. 

The jittering crowd suddenly went so silent you could hear a pin drop. 

And then the world around you erupts. It’s impossible to classify the sound as cheers when racketeers off your entire being like an unearthly sound, the stands on their feet hollering and screaming and yelling at their players that are fighting to keep their new overtake in the final seconds before the game officially ends. 

And when it does, you’re sure you need to get your ears checked out. 

Looking over, you catch Lorelai’s eye, and you can’t help but laugh. A delightful laugh that releases itself in the midst of the chaos of red, scarlet and cherry. Somebody’s thrown a red blanket over you, another has begun to hand out congratulatory cherry lollipops (you pass, but Lorealai would be damned if she did), people are hugging each other so tight and you get the inkling they’ve only met each other today. 

The ice is one giant dogpile, red on red as they suffocate one another in celebration. 

Perhaps you didn’t realise how important the game actually was, or maybe every game is like this, loud, proud and exultant. You find yourself imagining how they feel. 

The lost feeling of bouquets and flowers whisked in your direction, stuffed animals and hundreds of other things that scream adoration as your performance comes to a close. It’s a physical manifestation of an adoring crowd, as though making it tangible makes it a little more real. 

The rush, you can feel it resonate off of the scarlet side of the benches, and it’s enough for you to realise that yes, this was an important match. For them anyway. 

The way out of the rink is reasonably packed, but you manage to squeeze through the doors and towards where Lorelai had parked with fewer than expected obstruction. “Thought you might wait to see Jeonghan before we leave,” you hum as you walk to the parking spot. 

“I was going to, but he’s probably dealing with what happened,” she utters slowly. A flash of red at the mention, gone as soon as it came. Lorelai adds with a little extra pep to her voice, “It’s okay! I’ll send him a text, we were planning on dinner tomorrow anyway.”

The side eye you send is met with a light shove. “This one seems serious. Dragging me here for his sake and now dinner with him?”

Lorelai was infamous for taking it excruciatingly slow, the time between the talking stage and the first date stretching for months. She claims it’s to make sure she's not roping herself into something she’d regret, which you’ll admit has seemed to work out in her favour. Her last relationship lasted years before Josh had to move away. 

Jeonghan seems to have her under some warped spell, because Lorelai was hurtling into this relationship like a too compressed cannon ball. There was nothing you knew about Jeonghan other than his friendship with Seungcheol, his position as junior league coach and his habit of loitering on the ice; which means there wasn’t much opinion to be had on the whole conquest. Regardless, you decide to caution her some other day, when she’s not glowing and over the moon like a robust teenager. 

Slipping into the passenger seat, you slump like never before, already dreaming about the bedrotting session you’re about to have; glorious enough for the books. 

“Do you wanna grab food and rot on the couch?” she asks. 

“You’re still hungry after all that?” you huff, your mouth still flavoured with artificial sweetness paired with the savoury of the chicken and fries. You pull out your phone for the first time in nearly three hours, the home screen alarming full of missed notifications. Text messages, mentions and phone calls. For whatever reason, you swipe right past and open your browser. 

“It’ll take about an hour till we’re settled, should be hungry enough by then,” she comments, a gentle growl coming from beneath you as the engine comes to life. 

Somewhere between the lines of the seatbelt sign pinging, and the radio blaring itself into the space, you’ve read a headline that’s enough to halt your world. 

“There’s this new Chinese place that opened nearby here. Or this Persian restaurant but it’s like 20 minutes in the other direction. Or do we just do soup—”

“Lorelai.”

She turns to look at you in the passenger seat, seatbelt alarm still dinging as you remain with your seatbelt off as she pulls out of the parking space, like the official soundtrack to your doom. She brakes, hard. Lorelai is always Lorry with you, her full name only ever when you’re feigning irritation. 

There’s nothing irritating about the situation, but everything is wrong with it. 

It’s like you were in the benches, taking punches while simultaneously throwing a few yourself. You’re out of breath still seated, your skin tingles like a million arachnids crawling under your skin under your layers. You’re in the eddy of a horrifying whirlpool, that’s pulling you down, down, down, down, down, down—

!HOT TOPIC!

FIGURE SKATER OR FIGURINE? NOTHING GRACEFUL ABOUT Y/N L/N’S FALL FROM THE PINNACLE OF THE SKATING WORLD. Read from the Source!

From a pocket princess, to a rising star. From a rising star to the top of the world. From the top of the world to… a bottomless hell? How did Y/N L/N end up here? 

It’s nothing new that L/N’s presence was notable during the flashy ISU Grand Prix held in Beijing last year, the podium notably shuffled as a result. The skater’s ankle injury was never awarded a career ending title, but with the way her comeback remains as foggy as it did since the initial announcement, one must begin to wonder if we’ll ever see L/N on the competitive ice again. 

Or perhaps she’s simply lost her spark? 

Trusted sources report that L/N’s sponsors are growing weary of her extended vacation, and are just about ready to pull the rug! In addition, sources also report her floundering lack of consistency in practice sessions on the ice, her condition beyond someone as onerous as even Isabella Carroll to manoeuvre into success. Talk about futile! 

Now, we’re all hoping that our glittering gold medalist is only a victim of mindless chatter, however, we must concede, neither we nor our sources are holding on to too much hope. 

Keep on the lookout for more updates from us on our fallen (?) star!

[a/n]: hehehehehe remember to reblog and tell me your thoughts

[xoxojuyo]

Out of reach pt.1 - jungkook

𐙚 summary: you meet the man of your dreams during a flight, but he seems to be out of reach…

𐙚 pairing: lawyer!jungkook x nepobaby!reader

𐙚 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, THIS SERIES CONTAIN MATURE CONTENT

𐙚 word count: 1,8k words

𐙚 warnings: jungkook is older than reader, they get very comfy with each other super quick, hold ing hands, kissing, jungkook has a gf, infidelity

𐙚 a/n: this is meant to be a series, it’ll get filthy in the future. Hope you enjoy it 🤍 pt.II

The soft hum of the airplane engines filled the air as you settled into your seat in the first-class cabin of Flight KE902 from Paris to Incheon. You tucked your Hermès blanket neatly around your lap, ready for the long journey home. The lavish seat next to you was meant to remain vacant—an indulgence your parents had arranged for your privacy. After all, the daughter of South Korea’s leading pharmaceutical magnates and Cartier’s latest muse wasn’t accustomed to sharing space, much less during a 12-hour flight.

You glanced out the window, watching the Paris night fade into streaks of neon blue runway lights. You had just begun flipping through the latest issue of Vogue when a deep, polite voice interrupted your tranquility.

“Excuse me, miss. It seems this is my seat.”

You looked up, momentarily caught off guard. A man stood before you, tall and striking, with features so sharp they might have been carved from marble. His tailored suit spoke of understated luxury, and the faint shadow of a smile hinted at an effortless charm.

“There must be a mistake,” you said, your voice calm but firm. “This seat wasn’t supposed to be occupied.”

The flight attendant quickly stepped in, bowing apologetically. “Ms. Choi, I’m terribly sorry. This is Mr. Jeon Jungkook, one of our Diamond members. Due to unforeseen circumstances, we had to reassign this seat to accommodate him. I assure you it won’t affect your experience.”

You hesitated, your mind whirring. Jeon Jungkook? The name sounded familiar, but before you could piece it together, he spoke again.

“I apologize for the inconvenience,” Jungkook said, his tone professional yet warm. “I’ll do my best not to intrude.”

Your eyes narrowed slightly. “Jeon Jungkook? The lawyer?”

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, followed by a modest nod. “I see my reputation precedes me. And you must be Choi Y/N. I’ve read about you in Forbes.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You read Forbes?”

“I do my homework,” he replied, settling into the seat beside you. “It’s useful to know the people shaping the world around me.”

You couldn’t suppress a small smile. “Flattery doesn’t work on me, Mr. Jeon.”

“Good to know,” he said, leaning back. “But who said I was trying to flatter you?”

The tension melted into a curious ease as the plane taxied for takeoff. As the flight attendants began their safety demonstration, Jungkook turned to you.

“Paris, huh? Business or pleasure?”

“An event with Cartier,” you replied, your voice laced with practiced grace. “And you?”

“Business, mostly. Though I was hoping for some pleasure before a client emergency pulled me back.”

You tilted your head, intrigued. “You don’t strike me as someone who gets flustered by emergencies.”

“I don’t. But I’ve learned that flying halfway across the world is part of the job description,” he said with a rueful smile. “And you? Flying solo?”

You hesitated for a moment. “It’s… just a preference of mine.”

Jungkook chuckled softly. “Fair enough. Let’s just say the airline played matchmaker tonight.”

You smirked, feeling the ice between you dissolve. “A bold assumption, Mr. Jeon.”

“Call me Jungkook,” he said. “If we’re stuck together for the next 12 hours, we might as well get comfortable.”

As the plane ascended into the midnight sky, the cabin lights dimmed to a soft amber glow. You adjusted the recline of your seat, sneaking a glance at Jungkook as he loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves. He caught you looking and smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

“Long flight ahead,” he said. “What’s your go-to in-flight entertainment? Movies? Reading? Sleeping?”

“None,” you replied, crossing your legs elegantly. “I usually work or… just stare out the window.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Workaholic?”

“Efficient,” you corrected, your lips curving into a small smirk. “What about you?”

“Depends on the company,” he said, a teasing lilt to his voice.

You felt a blush rise to your cheeks but masked it with a soft laugh. “And here I thought lawyers were all business.”

“We are,” he admitted. “But even we need a break every now and then. Maybe this is mine.”

You talked intermittently for the next hour, the conversation flowing effortlessly from topics like your favorite cities to your least favorite airline meals. Jungkook’s laugh was infectious, and you found yourself smiling more than you had in days.

At one point, the flight attendant approached with the dinner menu. Jungkook, ever the gentleman, gestured for you to choose first.

“The lobster risotto.”

“Good choice,” Jungkook said, handing his menu back. “I’ll have the same. Can’t go wrong with a classic.”

“You’re copying me?” you teased.

“Or I trust your taste,” he countered smoothly.

As the hours passed, your initial formality faded into a comfortable camaraderie. After dinner, Jungkook leaned back in his seat, glancing at the champagne flute in your hand.

“Celebrating something?” he asked.

“Maybe,” you said, swirling the golden liquid. “It’s not every day you survive a Cartier event without collapsing from exhaustion.”

“Impressive,” he said, lifting his own glass in a mock toast. “To surviving the glamorous life.”

“And to lawyers who manage to look good while working too hard,” you quipped.

You clinked glasses, your eyes locking briefly. You felt your heart skip a beat, a warmth spreading in your chest that had nothing to do with the champagne.

By the time the plane was over Siberia, the cabin had grown quiet. Most passengers were asleep, but you and Jungkook were wide awake, leaning toward each other as you whispered.

“So, what’s the first thing you’ll do when you get back to Seoul?” Jungkook asked, his voice low and soothing.

“Probably dinner with my dads,” you said. “We have this tradition where our chef cooks my favorite meal whenever I come back from a trip.”

“That sounds nice,” he said, his expression genuinely interested. “What’s the dish?”

“Kimchi jjigae, with extra tofu,” you said. “And you? What’s the first thing you’ll do?”

“Go straight to the office,” he said with a wry grin. “Not as exciting, huh?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. Something about you being so dedicated is… admirable.”

Your gazes lingered, the silence between you charged with an unspoken tension. Jungkook reached for the blanket draped over his seat and, without a word, tucked it around your shoulders.

“You looked cold,” he murmured.

“Thank you,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

It felt natural when your hands brushed against each other on the armrest. Neither pulled away, and moments later, Jungkook laced his fingers gently with yours.

“This doesn’t feel real,” you admitted, your cheeks flushing.

“Maybe it’s the altitude,” he joked, though his voice was soft, sincere. “Or maybe it’s just you.”

Your heart raced as you looked down at your entwined hands. “Do you always move this fast, Jungkook?”

“Only when it feels right,” he said, his eyes meeting yours.

You and Jungkook were still wrapped in each other’s warmth, your voices a murmur as you traded soft laughs and tender glances. His hand rested over yours, his thumb tracing slow circles on your skin.

But then, Jungkook’s phone buzzed against the tray table. His expression stiffened as he glanced at the screen, his lips pressing into a thin line.

“I need to take this,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.

You frowned slightly, sensing the shift in his mood. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, though his tone didn’t quite match his words. “It’s work. I’ll be back in a minute.”

He stood and slipped toward the bathroom, phone in hand. You watched him go, a strange unease settling in your chest.

Inside the restroom, Jungkook answered the FaceTime call. The face of a woman appeared on the screen.

“Jungkook,” she said, her voice gentle. “I was worried when you didn’t answer earlier. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” he replied, his tone measured. “Just caught up with work.”

The woman smiled faintly. “I can’t wait to see you. We have so much to talk about.”

He forced a small smile. “Me too.”

The call ended, and Jungkook stared at his reflection in the mirror, his expression conflicted. He lingered for a moment before returning to his seat.

You looked up as he sat down, your eyes scanning his face. “Everything alright?”

Jungkook hesitated, his hand brushing the back of his neck. “Y/N… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach tightened. “What is it?”

He exhaled deeply, unable to meet your gaze. “I have a girlfriend.”

The words hit you like a cold gust of wind. You blinked, processing, before narrowing your eyes. “What?!”

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But I can’t ignore how… how good it felt to be with you tonight.”

Your jaw tightened. “So you just conveniently forgot about her while holding my hand and—” you stopped, shaking your head. “Unbelievable.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “I didn’t want to lie to you.”

You turned away, staring out the window as anger and hurt bubbled inside you. But even as the rational part of you screamed to push him away, your heart ached to stay close.

“Don’t say another word,” you said, turning back to him. “For the next hour, I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. Just… don’t ruin this.”

Jungkook’s eyes widened slightly, but he nodded. “Y/N—”

“Shh,” you interrupted, leaning closer. Your hands found his, and despite the anger simmering beneath your skin, you couldn’t stop yourself from pulling him into a hug.

You stayed like that for a moment, the world outside the plane shrinking away. Then, almost without thinking, you tilted your face up toward his. Your lips met in a slow, hesitant kiss that deepened as you clung to each other, as if trying to capture something fleeting.

~

The announcement of your descent broke the spell. As you disembarked and retrieved your bags, an awkward silence stretched between you. Jungkook carried your carry-on for you as you walked toward the airport exit.

“I’m sorry,” he said quietly, stopping in the middle of the terminal.

“For what?” You asked, your tone sharp. “For kissing me? For holding my hand? Or for confessing you have a girlfriend after letting things get this far?”

“All of it,” Jungkook said, his eyes downcast. “I shouldn’t have let it escalate. But I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.”

Your breath hitched. “Then why can’t we—”

“Because I can’t walk out on her like that,” he interrupted, his voice heavy with guilt. “It wouldn’t be right.”

You stared at him, anger and heartbreak warring within you. “And what about me? It’s okay to just walk out on me like nothing happened?”

Jungkook’s gaze softened, but he took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry y/n, If destiny brings us together again, I promise you I’ll make it up to you.”

With that, he turned and walked away, his figure disappearing into the crowd.

You stood frozen, your hands clutching the strap of your bag as your mind raced. You were furious, confused, and utterly disappointed. Yet, beneath it all, a part of you longed for the man who had just walked out of your life.

[shady-lemur]

you and roommate!ellie are soo unserious.

cw: brief mentions of sex, soo cute 🥲

you two are bestfriends, always with each other, posting dumbass snapchat videos of her doing the cinnamon challenge on your story, going out together etc. even part of the same friend group.

you’re madly inlove with each other and neither of you shy away from that fact… after a shot or two

you bicker all day everyday.

there you are sitting on the couch, smoking, with ellie, dina, and jesse. your legs are in ellie’s lap, letting her massage your calfs and thighs as you converse with the other two.

“i fucking hateee hookups. it’s so awkward in the morning because you have to figure out the vibe all over again.” you nod at dina’s comment, agreeing.

“really? i love it. i’ll even cook up some eggs in the morning and go for round two.” ellie says. you start laughing at her.

“okay player…. you haven’t brought a girl home in months.” ellie rolls her eyes at you, “only because the last girl that came over said she could hear MY GRANDMA snoring through the wall.” your jaw drops and you kick her gut. you both know that didn’t happen, ellie stopped bringing girls over because you started wearing her tshirts and a pair of underwear around the house. making it impossible to think about anyone else.

you guys have only hooked up once. you were both high out of your minds and she was so excited to be eating you out that she came untouched. you’ve never let her live it down.

she has a movie on, laying down on the couch trying to enjoy her peaceful evening.

“hey els im gonna sit next to you now.. just letting you know so you don’t get too excited when you feel my leg.” you smile at her and she rolls her eyes, throwing a pillow at your head. “oh fuck you.”

you pick the pillow up and throw it back at her, “you wish” she shrugs and uses the pillow to prop herself up, “maybe then you would finally shut up.”

you guys share all your food, you barely even have to go shopping because she keeps all your favorites stocked.

she won’t ever tell you when she wants you to cook that pasta that she loves but she’ll put all the ingredients on the counter with some flowers and a promise of a movie night, an offer you can’t refuse.

you begged her for months to get a cat and she’s too stubborn to say she actually fell inlove with it.

“ellie!! why the fuck is my cat wearing a sweater that says ‘cool just like my dad??’”

“okay first of all… our cat… second she pawed at it on my laptop when i was ordering more cat food and when i said no she pushed my cup off the fucking table. evil boo evil!” she walks over to where boo is happily in your arms and points at her, she just purrs and rubs her face against ellie’s finger. you frown at her.

“don’t call my baby evil!!”

ellie looks at the cat and whispers, “i remember when i used to be her baby.”

you guys talk about the future all the time. your future house, future kids, even planning your wedding.. all jokes of course (😆😆) but dating is too serious..

she proposes to you at the flee market.

you see a beautiful antique diamond ring, checking the price tag and groaning. “i promised myself i wouldn’t spend more than $250 today..” ellie glances from behind you and rubs your shoulder in comfort. “sorry babe.. maybe it’ll be here next week!” you nod and continue on your journey, getting interested in the fresh fruit stand. ellie uses that time to run back to the tent with the ring.

after you’re handed your bag of cherries and apples you turn, expecting to see ellie standing behind you. “ellie?”

she walks back over to you and grins, showcasing the small velvet jewelry box. “ellie what the fuck!!” you smile and grab the box, opening it and giving her a kiss on the cheek in return. you immediately slip the ring on, perfect!

“guess that means we have to get married now.” you whip your head around to her and roll your eyes. “don’t even joke like that.”

ellie stops laughing and looks down at your hands. “i mean why not? you could join my healthcare..”

you stand there for a second just staring at herself, completely star struck before you start laughing again, grabbing her hand with your own and resting your head on her shoulder. “you’re an idiot.”

[navybrat817]

Hold You Tight: Part 26

Pairing: Club Owner!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Fic Summary: The owner of The 107th wants you to be his girl whether you like it or not.

Part 25 | Series Masterlist | Part 27

Chapter Word Count: Over 4.1k

Chapter Summary: You get a little closer to Bucky, and you get in touch with your mom.

Chapter Warnings: Sexual undertones, bonding of sorts, inner turmoil, world building, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?), more warnings to come.

A/N: More Hold You Tight, and thank you for sticking with me! Over a year since we began this wild journey! Bucky edit by the beautiful @nixakimbo. ❤️ Beta read by the lovely @whisperlullaby, but any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-in-darkness. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Sometime after the popcorn and candy fight with Bucky you began to doze off in his arms. You hadn’t meant to, but you felt so comfortable and at ease. It was the first time that day you felt like you could breathe. That frightened you a bit since he wasn’t meant to be the hero in your story.

Or was he rewriting the story?

“I should get some sleep,” you whispered. 

His stubble brushed your temple. “You seem pretty comfortable,” he said, not releasing you, but not holding you tighter either. “I don’t mind falling asleep like this if you don’t mind.”

“I should brush my teeth. Maybe shower and change,” you said. It was too late for a bath and you didn’t want to risk falling asleep in the tub, though you had a feeling he’d never allow that to happen.

He sighed, but didn’t argue as he helped you up. He didn’t look angry, which was a good sign. Disappointed maybe. “Do you mind if I join you?”

You stared at him, your mouth agape. Was he really asking to join you in the shower? Could you stop him?

He chuckled at your expression. “I should’ve been more specific. I know you don’t want me in the shower with you tonight, but I’d like to be in the bathroom so I’m close to you if that’s okay,” he said. He just wanted to be close to you? “I won’t look or try anything.”

Maybe what happened to you was raw for him, too, and he wanted you in his sights so he could relax. “Okay,” you said after a beat. You were going to trust that he wouldn’t do something so soon after Clark. “But I’m yelling for Curtis if you do try anything.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow. “You’d yell for one of my men because of me?”

“Well, he is my bodyguard,” you replied, smiling when his mouth fell open.

“You really do have claws,” he said proudly, pulling you away from the messy living room. “Something wrong?” he asked when you whipped your head around.

“Did I bring my phone out here with me or did I leave it in the library?” you asked. You hadn’t paid much attention to that since you had been so upset before Bucky brought you to the living room.

“Don’t worry about your phone. Tonight’s about you relaxing,” he said. You were about to argue, but he was right. 

Your heart picked up when he led you to the guest bathroom. It was smaller than the master bathroom, which meant he’d be somewhat close to you. It was vulnerable for you too, since you’d be naked and he’d be put together like always. That was one of the differences between you two. He had you vulnerable from the start while you had to work to peel back the many layers of him.

“I had some things brought from the apartment while you spent time in the library,” he said, testing the water for you after turning it on. “Your bridesmaid’s dress, the photo of you and your friends, the dress and diamond necklace I got you, and some other things.”

“Thanks,” you whispered, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to go through anything tonight. You wondered what was left behind. 

“Natasha also reached out to check on you. I told her you plan to talk to her about those self defense lessons.” His eyes lingered on you until he moved a few feet away and turned his back to you. “I think you’ve made quite an impression on her.”

“I can’t imagine why,” you said, undressing as quickly as you could and keeping an eye on him. The tension in his body told you he wanted to look, but he stayed still while you stepped under the water and shut the door. The water felt nice and you couldn’t help but sigh. You also didn’t feel as tense as you expected with him being so close. 

Was that progress?

You still half expected him to strip down and join you since you hadn’t forgotten about the things he said he wanted to do to you. How he’d fuck you in the tub, make you ride his face before he fucked you, how he’d make you take his cock. Would he turn you into his perfect plaything when the time was right?

“It’s because you’re genuine and goodhearted, which she appreciates,” he said over the sound of the water, making you push those thoughts away. “My mother appreciated it, too, and so do I.”

You turned toward the sound of his voice and saw his hand pressed against the frosted glass. Could he see you? You pressed your hand against his, the pain bringing out the need to comfort him. Funny how instead of you putting a mental or emotional wall up, there was a physical door between the two of you this time. All you had to do was open it. 

“I’d like to do something for your mom,” you said. 

“What is it?” he asked curiously. “You already have Zemo making a donation.”

“I’ll tell you in a minute,” you said, quickly washing yourself so you could sit with him. “Is there a towel or a robe?”

“I hung it up for you. I’ll be right outside,” he said, surprising you all over again when he pushed off the shower door and left the bathroom. 

“He really is trying,” you whispered.

You dried yourself off, brushed your teeth, and wrapped yourself in the plush robe before you opened the door. Bucky paced back and forth in front of the bed, a haunted look in his eyes. It was a heartbreaking sight. Did he hear you open the door?

“The anniversary of her death is coming up, isn’t it?” Between that and your attack, you couldn’t imagine the range of thoughts and emotions he felt. 

“Bucky?” you asked, his gaze softer when he looked at you. Your presence truly rid him of his demons. “Are you okay?”

“Just thinking about you and my mom,” he said, taking a seat with a heavy sigh. “Everything in my head is so loud.”

“Yeah, it is.” He clenched and unclenched his fists. “I don’t go to the club that day. I don’t really talk to anyone either. Not even Steve.”

You took a seat and leaned into him, hearing him exhale before he wrapped an arm around you. You were still tired, but you wanted to finish this talk before you went to sleep. Like you needed space earlier, you sensed that he needed this. “I can’t imagine how hard that is.”

“It’s one of the hardest days, and it hasn’t gotten much easier with time,” he admitted.

Time didn’t heal all wounds. “It isn’t much, but the thing I wanted to offer? I’d like to make a floral arrangement for her headstone.”

He faced you and you shivered. There was so much love in his eyes, enough to snuff out every other emotion. How was it all directed at you? “You would?” he whispered. 

“I would,” you answered. She was a good woman caught up in a cruel world, and you wanted to make something beautiful to honor her. “And you won’t have to be alone,” you added, unless he wanted to be. Grief hit everyone in different ways and you understood if he didn't want to be around you that day. 

“Thank you. That would mean a lot to me.” Bucky swallowed and gave you a soft smile. “The arrangement and you being with me.”

He looked into your eyes before they dropped to your lips. Another moment where he wanted to kiss you and held himself back. It had been too raw to kiss him in the living room earlier and it was still too raw now, but you pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. His grip on you tightened and you stayed still, not daring to pull away.

“I want you. Fuck, I want all of you. I need you,” he breathed, tucking your head into his neck. With your lips against his pulse, you could feel his heart was pounding. “But I won’t take you tonight.”

“I know you won’t,” you said. He wouldn’t push. Maybe he would tomorrow, but not tonight.

He moved you so you were both lying on the bed. “I’m such a bastard. I should be comforting you instead of talking about my pain and wanting you.”

“You’re allowed to talk about your thoughts and feelings, you know,” you said, trying not to yawn. “And you gave me space today and the movie night, which I needed, so thank you.”

“So, you’re telling me I was a good boyfriend today?” he asked, running a hand along your back, touching you without crossing a line.

“Uh-huh.” You did yawn this time. “You were a good boyfriend today, Bucky.”

You didn’t have to look at him to know he was smiling. “Prepping to be the best husband to you one day.”

“One day,” you whispered, too tired to disagree. 

As Bucky held you tighter, you wondered if you should’ve argued and not filled him with hope. But you knew deep down you’d have his ring on your finger and you’d have his last name in time. You would be Mrs. Barnes, his wife, his queen, his Kotyonok, his everything. It was inevitable.

Perhaps it was fate.

Bucky wasn’t in bed when you woke up the next morning. You touched the spot where he laid and found it cold. He was giving you that space once again. Once he had you in the master bedroom, things would surely be different. Chances were he’d wake you with his mouth or cock. You weren’t naive. He’d be insatiable once that dam broke.

“Where’s my phone?” you muttered, searching the nightstand. Bucky had said to relax for the rest of the night, but you wanted to reach out to Addison and the girls. 

You checked the library first once you left the guest room and found it right where you left it. Nothing in the room had been touched. Bucky kept another promise. 

It wasn’t until you left the library that you noticed the messages and missed calls from your mom, making your stomach sink.

“It’s Mom. Answer your phone.”

“If you won’t call me back, call Dad.”

“Why are you ignoring your parents?”

“I need you to call us.”

Your parents didn’t reach out just because. They never did. Judging from the insistence of the messages, something was wrong. It had to be.

You tried not to think the worst as you called your mom. Was she okay? What was going on?

“You called back,” your mom answered, sounding more irritated than usual. “Finally.”

You sighed, walking toward the kitchen when you smelled coffee. She didn’t bother saying hi. “I’m sorry I didn’t call last night. I’ve been having a bit of a rough time and needed some rest,” you said, refusing to feel guilty.

“A rough time? What could possibly be so rough for you?”

You grit your teeth. So much has happened to you, and of course she didn’t ask what happened or voice any concern. It would’ve been nice if she had, but you were just a florist in her eyes. A disappointment. 

Bucky was already dressed for the day when you got to the kitchen. He looked handsome as ever in black. It really was his color. But instead of smiling, he frowned when he spotted you on the phone. “Who are you talking to?”

“My mom,” you mouthed, his frown deepening.

“Put her on speaker,” he said, setting a mug on the island for you. “Please.”

“Are you still there?” your mom asked since you didn't answer her question. 

You put her on speaker. “I’m still here, and it doesn't matter,” you said, as much as you wanted to tell her. Shouldn’t a mother’s duty be to protect and care for their child? “Is everything okay? Is Dad okay?”

“We’re fine,” she replied, making you sigh in relief. “But we’re in the city and we’re in a bit of a bind.”

“You’re in the city?” you asked. Bucky raised an eyebrow. When did they get there and why didn’t they tell you? 

“Yes. We wanted to see the sights,” she said. Bucky’s jaw clenched when your face fell. They wanted to see the city, but not you? “But we need your help.”

“You need my help?” You shrugged at Bucky who came over and wrapped an arm around your waist. “With what?”

“Well. Our cards were declined last night while we were out. We had to use most of the cash we brought to cover our dinner.” She huffed, a sign that she was embarrassed. The cards declining was a shock. They were careful with their finances. “We thought you might be able to spare a little cash until we can figure out what’s going on.”

“You called me because you need money?” You glanced at Bucky who had a smug smile on his face. Sipping his coffee couldn’t hide it. What did he do? 

“You sound surprised,” your mom said. 

“I am. With the amount of missed calls and messages, I thought…” You didn't say it wasn't an emergency. Not that declined cards weren't a bad thing, but the way she blew up your phone, you thought something really bad happened. 

“You thought the worst? I guess I can understand why, but this is an emergency. And I know a florist salary isn’t much, but surely you can spare a little for your parents,” she said, your cheeks hot. You felt so small, and you bit your lip so you wouldn’t cry. Bucky’s fingers dug in, not liking that she insulted your profession. 

“I…” You laughed a little, a small, sad sound. Your mom was calling because she needed money and not because she wanted to see you. It was the cherry on top of a bitter cake. At least no one was hurt or worse.

“We’d be happy to discuss it with you,” Bucky said, sounding friendly enough, but you knew better. “Wouldn't want you to worry about money for the rest of your trip.”

“We? Who is that?” your mom questioned. “Who are you?”

“I’m James Buchanan Barnes, but everyone calls me Bucky. I’m also your daughter’s boyfriend.”

He tilted your head toward him so you met his gaze. He looked and sounded so proud, like it was an honor to be yours. Why couldn’t your parents have even an ounce of pride for you?

“Boyfriend? I… I didn’t realize she was seeing anyone.”

“Maybe that’s because you don’t check in on your wonderful daughter and only reach out when you need something,” he said casually, your eyes widening when your mom sputtered on the other end of the phone. “I mean, you came to the city to see the sights, but not her?”

You gripped the mug, letting the heat seep into your skin before you let it go. He was voicing what you thought. It meant something that he was defending you. 

“Well, of course we were going to reach out and see our daughter,” she argued, sounding like she swallowed a piece of glass. Bucky’s dig at her upset her. “My girl, we were going to surprise you before this hiccup.”

You wished you could believe that she wanted to see you. 

“I’m sure you were,” Bucky said without a hint of warmth. “But if you need money to get through the rest of your trip, we may be able to spare a little.”

He gave you a nod, encouraging you to say something. “Yeah, I’m sure we can,” you said. He had put money in your account and you could give your parents a bit if necessary. 

“Thank you,” your mom sighed.

“Why don't we meet you at The Chateau at 1 o’clock?” Bucky offered. A nice restaurant. They would love that. “It’ll give me a chance to meet my future in-laws face-to-face and I can treat you to lunch.”

He smirked at your expression. Future in-laws? The moment your parents discovered he was made of money they’d be on his side. They wouldn’t be in your corner. But were they ever?

“Y-Yes.” Your mom cleared her throat. “Lunch would be nice.”

“Looking forward to it. And don't be late. My girl’s time is precious and I don't want to waste it.” Bucky hung up before your mom or you could get another word in. “How did you sleep?’

“I… How did I sleep?” you asked, confused by the subject change. 

“Yeah. You were so tired you fell asleep in your robe. You're still wearing it,” he said, running a finger along the collar as you tightened it around you.

“I slept fine, but I should get ready for the day. I'm a mess,” you said without thinking. You hadn't gone through your morning routine, immediately searching for your phone before you found him. 

He held your chin, his eyes darkening for a split second. “You're not, but one day I will make a mess of you before and after you wake up.”

The breath rushed out of your lungs. There was the Bucky you knew. “Bucky, my parents are very meticulous with their spending,” you said, changing the subject yourself so you didn't focus on his desires. “Did you have something to do with their cards not working?” 

Bucky had the power to do that, but what would he have to gain from that?

“I may have made a call or two.” He shrugged when you took a step back. He really did that? Why? “You were still in pain yesterday and I wanted to inflict a little pain on someone else who hurt you. Why not start with your parents?”

The gleam in his eyes didn't frighten you nor did his smile. He really thought he was helping you in some sort of way. “But why would you do that? Because they weren't overly loving to me?”

“That's exactly why,” he said, stepping forward so you were close to him once again. “Outside of me, those are the people who should love and protect you. And when have they been there for you? When have they supported you?” He shook his head in disgust. “They said your life was a waste.”

Your fingers curled. They did say that. All because you decided to do something you loved. “Then why do you want to see them?” you asked. Why would he offer to take them to lunch?

“Maybe I want to tell them what I think of them,” he said, touching your cheek. “Maybe I want to tell them you have a real family here who loves you and are willing to fight for and die for you.”

You didn't pull away when his other hand went to the back of your neck. Wasn't that what you wanted? Your friends were your sisters, but his men were willing to do that because of him, not you. “Did you really freeze their accounts?”

He chuckled and kissed your forehead. How many times has he kissed your forehead since you met? “I’m not heartless. I left them with something because they're your parents and you have a good heart, but I'm guessing they didn't bother trying that card.”

“You really did that?” you asked, still in disbelief.

“I did, and I’d do it again. They may not have put a hand on you, but they hurt you and I won't stand for that.” He moved his mouth to your ear. “Say the word and I’ll make sure they have nothing, Kotyonok.”

You shivered, your eyes shutting. He was willing to destroy your parents for wronging you. It was crazy, but it was his version of love. 

And why were you leaning into him? Why were your hands suddenly holding his arms? Was he tightening the chain on you more? 

“I’d do anything for you,” he said against the shell of your ear. 

The sound of heavy footsteps had you moving away from him, but he stood in the same spot with a knowing smirk. He felt that you had leaned into him, silently looked to him for support. You had to stay in control. 

“I think I got the right ingredients,” Curtis said, setting a couple of bags on the counter. “I hope so.”

“Ingredients for what?”

He raised an eyebrow at you and began to unpack the bags. “For the brownies.”

You turned your gaze to Bucky who merely smiled. “Did you send my bodyguard out to get ingredients for the brownies I plan to make for him? That’s ridiculous.”

“He didn't just get stuff for brownies. I had him get a few other things, too,” Bucky said, smiling more when you glared. “I love seeing your eyes light up with fire.”

“Curtis isn't your… errand boy! I could've gone shopping by myself or given you the list.” You threw your arms up when Bucky chortled. “Do not laugh at me.”

“I’m laughing at ‘errand boy’, not at you,” he said. 

You pointed to the doorway. “Get out, please. Curtis can stay, but you need to leave my kitchen.”

It was your kitchen now, and baking would help you decompress before seeing your parents. 

“You're kicking me out?” Bucky’s expression was a mixture of impressed and offended. “You want him to stay here while you’re in your robe?”

“Yes,” you said, crossing your arms. The robe covered everything. 

“Don't you need to get ready for lunch?” Bucky pressed. 

“I can do that after I bake brownies,” you said. There was plenty of time. 

“Will you wear the diamond necklace I got you?” he asked, staring at your neck. “It looks so beautiful on you.”

Your face warmed at the compliment. “Yes, I’ll wear it,” you said to appease him. “Now go, please. Go talk to Ray. Call Steve. Plot and scheme or do whatever the hell it is that you do when you aren't thinking about me.”

He smiled and kissed your temple as he walked by. “But I'm always thinking of you,” he said fondly, narrowing his eyes at Curtis. “Don't touch my girl.”

“Wouldn't dream of it,” your bodyguard promised. 

“I will hurl an egg at your head, I swear!” You stomped a foot when Bucky’s laughter rang out in the hall. He drove you crazy. “Did I just stomp my foot?” you asked Curtis. 

“Like a child, but I don't blame you,” he teased, unloading the rest of the groceries. “I think you’ve earned unlimited temper tantrums.”

You giggled and looked over what he bought. “This is everything I need.”

“Recipe from your apartment,” he said when you were about to question how he or Bucky knew to get the special ingredients. 

You hang your head for a moment. It wasn't your apartment anymore. “Thanks. I'm sorry you had to buy the stuff for your own brownies.”

“I don't mind,” he said, taking a seat on the stool. It did nothing to take away from his intimidating stature. “Do I scare you?” he asked when your gaze lingered. 

“No,” you said honestly. As intimidating as he was, he didn't scare you. He seemed protective of you, and not just because he worked for Bucky. “Do you resent that you're my bodyguard?”

“No,” he said easily, running a hand on the back of his neck. “Someone needs to look out for you, and I’m glad it’s me.”

You began to move around the kitchen to familiarize yourself with where everything was. “Why is that?”

He didn't say anything as he stared at a spot on the island. “Because I know what it's like to feel trapped with nowhere else to go,” he said so quietly you almost missed it. 

You spun your head toward him. “You're trapped?” you asked. How and why?

His blue eyes searched yours and you thought he’d elaborate when he opened his mouth. He shook his head instead and softly asked, “Can I help at all?” 

You regarded him carefully. Was he talking about the brownies or you? And if he was talking about you, what could you say without it getting back to Bucky? “Thanks, but I'm okay,” you said, offering him a smile which he barely returned. 

As you grabbed what you needed, you thought about how the rest of the day would go. What would your parents say when they met Bucky? What would Bucky say to them? Would you tell them anything about what happened? Would they care or try to help you if you did? And what was Curtis's story? Maybe he’d tell you.

Or maybe you’d both remained trapped in Bucky’s world. 

Oh, how will this lunch go? And what do we think is Curtis's story? Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[cextile]

what about you attracts people?

one → two → three

how to read this pick a pile tarot reading ♡ the images above are your pick-a-pile options — see which image immediately pulls you in. If nothing stands out right away, take a moment to look at each pile/image. the one your attentions keeps coming back to is likely your pick. If more than one pile calls to you, trust that too. You can read both and take what resonates. And hey, if none of them feel like a match, no big deal. Not every reading is meant for right now. Come back another time — this reading isn’t going anywhere. 

pile one

very whimsical vibes.. plus you're very aware of your responsibility towards nature, towards the environment. you may be an animal lover.

I think I need to talk about your past a little bit. did you like to escape to your head pile 1? you used to try to cling onto your childhood self, trying to hold onto that innocence amidst a harsh reality that demands you to cope and keep up. some of you might have dealt with insane self-sabotage from addiction possibly.

HOWEVERR, there's been a massive shift. you're not just surviving — you’re thriving. you’ve taken the challenges and turned them into stepping stones, and now you’re moving toward new beginnings.

If i would have to describe you, you would've been a stagnant pond, but you guys are just so free flowing now?! like a gentle, rapidly moving river... striving and working hard.. for tommorrow, yk!?

you may not realise this, but that is INSANELY attractive. no kidding.

they want to help, they want to stand by you as you do the things you do. this ethic of yours just so goddamn sexy, they've seen how much you've improved, how much you have transistioned, carbon to diamond story.

you show affection towards others by providing for them, working for them. you define yourself to others through your resilience, your passion, your practicality, and your growth. it's an inspiring journey for those who watch you evolve.

all your vibes are just so <3

pile two

hey guys let me tell you, your aura of abundance literally speaks.

you just give off very opulent vibes...

for you guys also, I'm getting you guys also similar to pile one have been really contradictory to what you were and what you are right now. it's crazy like also like you might have had issues like you might have had a lack mindset in the past but you guys right now just scream abundance...... kudos

You guys are very grounded, very generous, very loyal, prosperous.

you are the IT person. You guys are extremely secure in your sense of identity. Also, you give off this nurturing energy.

that's the reason why people attracted. like how do I say this, you guys just give off thewizardliz energyy yk!!?

also i have to say more opportunities are coming to you. people are going to approach you because of the energy you give off.. they want association with you. but um i need to give a heads up because i'm seeing deceit. there might be people who see the shine and want to take advantage of it, so just be careful...

pile three

the cards literally went rogue for this pile. they were legit jumping out everywhere lmfaoo.

the vibes you guys give off, is like those fiery bubbles in boiling water hahaha. socially, you are like bright flames, open to experiences. You guys are the kind of people who are out there, and the people you interact with are consumed with your fiery energy yk? like you consume people with your personality.

You guys are very confident, very out there you guys are. I am seeing you did deal with a lot of isolation before & have dealt with many people lessons,, so kudos honestly for you to step up and just be so out there and just be lovely people.

people are attracted to you like moths to a flame.

You guys have very firm boundaries though. like you give people a lot of grace, but you finally withdraw when you see that they’re not just harmful to you — they are dangerous to your people too. so yeahh the moment those fucks start acting out with others? you are GONE.

and you do that so effortlessly... I am getting a scene that the people you cut off are just going to be observing you from a distance, and you'll just being your usual radiant self, smiling and talking with others and not giving a single fuck. no because something about that is rlly attractive too haha.

ooof to conclude you guys just have a very sexy (state of mind) & warm energy around here. I feel instinctively pulled to tell you some of you guys to practice some exercises for grounding yourself tho. keep a balance.

that's it for this reading. this was my first pick-a-pile ever! I really hope you enjoyed.

let me know how accurate this was

with love,

Ananya.

[lockefanfic]

Last Chance - Part 2

Part 1.

---

Even in the lineup at an airport Starbucks, Chou Tzuyu made your heart skip a beat.

Her hair is pulled into a messy bun that lives up to the name, although the loose strands that refused to fall in with the rest of her hair do well to frame her small face in wavy strands of chocolate. She is wearing an oversized sweatshirt and a matching loose pair of sweatpants, a large tote bag slung casually over one shoulder as she scrolls blankly on her phone, waiting for her turn to exchange money for caffeine. Even in casual clothing and little makeup, she made everyone else in the lineup look like movie extras, non-player characters in a virtual world meant to fill out a crowd.

She shuffles forward as the line advances. The girl behind her, a tall girl in a blue baseball cap pulled down almost over her eyes and similarly engrossed into whatever was on her phone, follows. She bumps into Tzuyu and apologizes profusely; Tzuyu smiles sweetly at her and gives her a small bow. As she turns forward again, her eyes find yours.

At the sight of you, her eyes, though rimmed with exhaustion and a lack of sleep, regain their brightness. Her lips curl into a warm smile as she brushes back a stray lock of hair, tucking it behind her ear. She looks at you like you’re the only other person that exists amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy airport, and in that moment you feel a warmth blossom in your chest. The rest of the world seems to fade away into black and white, monotone dullness.

Her left hand re-adjusts the strap of her tote bag over her shoulder. The diamond wedding ring on her ring finger glimmers.

---

“Fuck, it’s so cold in here,” your friend Joey says, stating what had become painfully obvious in the ten minutes you’d spent in his apartment since your return to the party from Tzuyu’s place. “Of all the times for the heater to give out…”

“Yeah,” you agree, although truth be told you could have been in Antarctica at the moment and you wouldn’t have noticed. You take another sip out of the mystery concoction within the plastic red cup in your hands, but the slight burn of the alcohol is temporary and fleeting, and does little to lighten your mood.

“Bro, you good?” he asks, some indeterminate amount of time later. You weren’t sure how long you’d spent staring blankly at your cup. From the moment you’d left Tzuyu’s apartment, the entire evening had started to feel like a blur. You felt blank, numb. Even the journey back to the apartment seemed to happen in a flash, as though it didn’t really happen. You remember leaving Tzuyu’s bedroom, and the next thing you knew you were being greeted with the booming baseline of the music pumping out of your friend’s apartment.

“I’m good,” you answer, managing to flash him a smile. There’s genuine concern on his face. Joey was one of the real ones, and you were glad you dragged yourself out to his party, even despite the heartache that was putting a damper on how much you were able to enjoy it.

“Listen bud, I’m not sure what you were up to while you were away, but we’re going to get you over it. Starting with another drink. And maybe setting you up with that girl I introduced you to earlier. She’s around here somewhere.”

Joey stands, peering out into the couple dozen people who still filled his apartment, apparently unable to find the person he was looking for amidst the crowd. Even at this late hour and with a busted heater, his fifth annual Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years party showed no signs of ending. He pats you on the shoulder, shoots you a crooked smile, and heads off toward the kitchen to fix you a drink.

You smile weakly at him as he disappears into the crowd. Your attention returns to your cup, and the dark amber liquid it contained. Your fingers trace the rim. A sigh escapes your lips. The music goes on, the heavy beat and chatter of the partygoers a dull thump and mumble that barely registers in your ears. Your head is elsewhere.

You think about her. You remember the last moments in her apartment in flashes, in a blur, despite it happening less than an hour ago. You remember standing from the bed, pulling on your boxers and pants with an urgency that you knew now was actually hurt and heartache. The hurt and heartache that came with knowing she would be someone else’s soon, that she’d never be yours again. Tonight was the night that you’d lost her - a thought made even more bitter by the knowledge that she was never yours to begin with, that despite the years of knowing her, knowing her secrets, knowing everything there was to know about her… it was someone else she’d chosen to fall for.

You remember the feel of her on your lips, her slickness on your cock, even as you zipped up your pants and pulled your shirt on with a speed and desperation that must have surprised her. But you had to get out of there. Had to leave the stifling, oppressive heat of her apartment and the heaviness of the unspoken words that pervaded the air, making it difficult to breathe.

She said something, then.

You remember the look on her face when you turned to face her. You’d never forget what you saw there - that broken, shattered look on her face, as though she were in a pain she’d never experienced before, her palm cradling her cheek, eyes shut. It was only there for a second or two. It may as well have been forever. It certainly felt like forever, judging from the way that moment seared itself into your memory and your heart, a burden for you to carry for the rest of your life.

What did she say? You wrack your brain, doing your best to remember, to reach back into time and grasp that moment, those words, as though you could wrap your hands around them and make them real, cradle them in your palms and bring them to your ear where they could fill you with their meaning.

She told you it was nothing, that she hadn’t said anything. But even as the words left her mouth you knew she was lying.

The moment was gone now. Lost. And even if you’d asked her again she’d just lie and tell you she said nothing at all.

You take another drink, wanting to taste something, feel anything. The drink tastes like dirt in your mouth. The party continues around you, a blur of movement and bodies and sound and it all feels so far away and distant, like it was happening on a completely different plane of existence.

When your phone vibrates in your pocket you almost don’t bother fishing it out and looking at it. You sigh, pick it out of your pants, and curse whoever deemed that the right time to send you a notification.

Two messages, both from her.

Hey, reads the first message.

I’m outside. Come see me, reads the second.

---

The path from your friend’s apartment, past the press of partygoers and out into the hallway, down the elevator, and outside onto the street, is quick - quicker than it really should have been. But before you knew it, you were leaving the party, passing through the crowd, down the elevator and through the lobby, in what seemed like an instant. The world passes by you in a quick blur, as though you were viewing it through a smudged lens.

But then you reach her, standing there on the sidewalk waiting for you, and everything snaps back into clear, razor-sharp focus. 

“Hey,” she says, softly, the single syllable striking you with surprising clarity, given the dull beat of the party music and the rumble of nearby passing vehicles.

“Hey,” you answer, not knowing what else to say. You notice she’s wearing the same thing she was wearing earlier that night - that same short black and white baseball shirt, and the tiny pair of green shorts that left most of her midriff and her long, slim legs bare. Despite her scant attire, she doesn’t seem to mind the cold, which seemed even worse out here than it did in the apartment. Semi-shovelled snow lines the sidewalk and pedestrians pass by bundled up in thick wool coats and scarves; and there she was, in clothes that seemed more fit for a summer night on the beach.

“Can we… talk?” she says, softly.

“Yeah,” you answer. “My place is right around the corner.”

She smiles. It’s happy and sad at the same time, somehow. Her eyes glisten, as though on the verge of tears she wasn’t quite willing to shed. There’s a small quiver in her lip. There are words there, you think, right there on her lips, and she’s doing her best to hold on to them until the time is right.

“I’d like that,” she says, eventually. She reaches out her hand. You take it, and lead her home.

---

“I never noticed these before,” she says, gesturing toward the framed pictures sitting on a wall-mounted shelf. They’re pictures of you with friends and family. A road trip. Graduation. A photo of your beer league hockey team, having just won your championship trophy. A shot of you and your friend Joey, eyes red after a long night of drinking and related shenanigans - although the photo is blurry and out of focus, and you weren’t sure what the hell was on his head.

“You’re never here long,” you answer with a smile, handing her a cup of warm water. “We don’t usually spend much time here outside of the bedroom. And the shower, I guess.”

Tzuyu smiles to herself as she takes a sip of the water. “I’m sorry,” she says, eventually, eyes still gazing at the faces in the photos and the frozen memories they captured. “I should know more about you than I do,” she admits, although she is silent afterward, as though she had just said something out loud that she shouldn’t have.

The two of you stand there in silence, staring at the framed memories. It was only a moment, but it felt longer than it did. You wonder if there was a world where she was there in those photos with you, sharing smiles, sharing memories, a moment of your lives together captured in film and paper to adorn your shelf. You wonder if she was your girlfriend in those photos, or your fiance, or your wife. You wonder if that world was still in your reach. 

No, you remind yourself. It wasn’t, given what she’d told you about her co-worker the night before. That world was closed off to you now, the door to it slammed shut. You wonder if it was ever open to begin with.

“Tzuyu,” you begin. Even as you say her name you weren’t quite sure what to say next. 

She doesn’t look away from the photos. She cradles the cup of water in both hands, next to her lips.

“...why are you here?” you ask.

She frowns for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she speaks, she is still facing the photos, as though afraid of what she’d find in your eyes.

“I told you I was going to call him tomorrow,” she says, softly. “That guy… that I… that I have feelings for. The guy I want to be with.” Her hand pulls her phone out of her back pocket. The screen seems ridiculously bright in the relative dimness of your living room. On its lock screen you see the time - 11:58pm.

Her eyes lift, finally finding yours. That smile again - happy and sad at the same time. There’s a small movement in her lips, as though she wants to say something, but decides against it. The unspoken words fill the space between you - heavy, oppressive. You want to pluck them out of the air and either make them real or tear them apart into nothingness; anything to get rid of the overbearing weight of them in the space between you.

You want to ask her what she could possibly want from you, given what she’d told you not even an hour ago. Another quick fuck, advice on what she should say to this guy tomorrow? Was she just bored? Lonely? Or…

Did she come here for you?

Your heart pounds in your chest as you realize what might be. Perhaps that world wasn’t so out of reach after all, the door not quite shut. 

Perhaps there was room on that shelf for more pictures.

The clock on her phone strikes midnight. She looks down at it for a moment, her thumb making a couple of presses on its screen. She presses the phone to her ear.

In your back pocket, your phone vibrates.

You answer her call.

“Hey,” she says.

---

It hits you all at once - the realization, the truth, the emotions. You’re moving toward her, your phones dropping from your respective hands - if they made a sound when they thumped on the floor you didn’t hear it. Her glass of water disappears too, gone from her hands and left on the shelf, or dropped and spilled on the floor - it didn’t matter. All that exists is her, and the need to touch her, kiss her.

Your lips find each other, and her arms wrap around your neck, pulling you close. The kiss is hurried, passionate. You’d kissed her more times than you could possibly count and yet this still feels unlike all the others.

“You,” she gasps, between kisses. “You. It’s you.”

You curse yourself for not picking up on the signs, for not realizing that every moment you’d spent at her apartment earlier in the night was a moment she was trying to tell you how she really felt. You curse yourself for not understanding her. For not hearing what she had to say.

But it didn’t matter anymore. None of it did. All that mattered was the here and now.

You’re so fervent, so needy with your kisses that she eventually backs up against the floor-to-ceiling windows that make up one side of your apartment. Your tongues duel. Your hands wander. 

“Tzuyu,” you manage to gasp, breathlessly. “I’m sorry,” you add, not quite sure why - but it felt like the right thing to say, somehow. “I didn’t know. I should’ve…”

You trail off, but she understands what you mean, if the small, soft nod she gives you is any indication. She looks up at you with those large, deep brown eyes of hers and in that moment you realize she understands you, all of you. She knows what you mean to say, even if you don’t actually say it. You curse yourself for the millionth time that you didn’t understand her nearly as much as she understood you.

“It’s okay,” she says, softly, so softly you could barely hear the words as they leave her lips. “It’s okay. As long as you know now. I want you. I’ve only ever wanted you.”

“And that co-worker of yours-”

“Doesn’t fucking exist,” she says, with a smile and a scoff as she smacks you playfully on the shoulder. “I was trying to get you to finally confess your undying love for me, you big dummy,” she adds. Just as she finishes her sentence her lip quivers, as though she realizes she said something she shouldn’t have. Her eyes are glassy, tears forming at their corners. 

“You could’ve just asked me to say it,” you answer. The words leave your mouth before you knew you were saying them.

She looks up at you, eyes searching yours for something.

“Say it, then,” she says, the request seeming loud and booming in the sudden silence of the room. “Say it for me.”

The moment stretches - out into infinity - as your eyes look deep into Chou Tzuyu’s.

“I love you, Tzuyu.”

Her face suddenly becomes fragile, soft, as though your words shattered a part of her. Her lips curl into a broken, sad smile. She kisses you, and brings her lips to your ear.

“I love you too. I always have.”

You’re kissing again, your bodies finding each other in the way they had on many a lonely night, over the few years that you’d known each other. But it’s different this time, because somewhere amidst the dueling tongues and wandering hands, there is genuine affection. It mixes with the lust, turns it into something more powerful, more intoxicating and irresistible. 

Your need for more of her causes you to step forward involuntarily, and you break the kiss to look into her half-lidded eyes and pull her toward the bedroom, but she has other ideas. Her eyes never leaving yours, she takes your hand in hers and takes steps back toward the floor-to-ceiling windows that line one end of your living room.

Eventually, her back touches the window. Your arms slide around her small waist, and hers find themselves around your neck.

“Here,” she says, “where everyone can see who I want to be with. Who I chose.”

There was nowhere else in the world where you wanted to be with her more. Chou Tzuyu was yours, finally yours, and you wanted everyone to see it. Everyone to know.

Something like a sigh leaves your lips - a sigh of powerlessness, perhaps - an involuntary, wordless sound that was your only reaction to hearing words you’d never thought you would. Your lips find hers - hungry, needy for her - and your arms pull her lower body close. Her hands wind through your hair. They dig into your scalp. 

Your hands pull at her shirt, and then she’s raising her hands and she’s topless and she’s yours, finally, fucking finally, for real this time.

You hear her gasp as her naked back presses against the cold glass of the window. You see the glint of need in her lidded eyes, the quiver in her lower lip as she tucks it beneath a tooth and bites down. You see it all, feel it all, and she’s there, she’s yours. Chou Tzuyu is finally yours.

Your lips find hers again before they trace a path down her jawline to her long neck - a path you’d traced many a time before. But it’s different this time, as though she were a different girl suddenly, one you’d never been with. Every touch of your lips on hers is electric, each one sending a little jolt of pleasure up both of your spines. 

Her mouth is next to your ear and every kiss you leave on her neck and upper chest earns you a small, wordless gasp that sounds like music. You knew her voice well, had heard it sigh and moan and say all manner of filth in the throes of lust and passion; but tonight it sounds new, novel, like a song you knew well from the radio being heard live for the first time.

Your kisses reach the tops of her breasts and you’re bending your neck now, finding one of her nipples in your mouth and suckling. The gasps filling your ears turn into moans and the pinpricks her nails leave in your scalp deepen, turn into furrows as the pleasure courses through her body in greater and greater waves. Your hands find a full thigh as she wraps it around your hip and you’re half-lifting her up with your palm on your ass cheek, bringing her breast closer to your needy mouth. She arches her back, gives more of herself to you, and you take everything she has to give.

You want to devour her - suck deeply from her other breast, drop to your knees and part her thighs and drink from her - but she has other ideas, other needs, and they compete with and beat yours. She cups your face in her hands, pulls it from her breast and to her lips, where she kisses you deeply. Her hands work at your pants with practiced fingers while your lips duel and suddenly your cock is in her warm palms and it’s your turn to gasp breathlessly into her mouth.

She breaks the kiss, eyes finding yours. There’s nothing but need there, in those dark brown pools, and while you’ve seen that look before it never failed to take your breath away. Her eyes remain locked on yours even as she drops slowly, torturously to her knees, even as she bends her neck and her tongue darts out to touch the base of your cock as she swipes a long, languid lick up your length to your tip. 

Only when she slides the length of your cock into her mouth do her eyes leave yours, her eyelids fluttering closed as she takes you between her wet, slick lips. Your eyes follow suit, shutting involuntarily, as though the sight of her on her knees might be too much for your brain to handle. You reach out with a hand to steady yourself against the cold glass of the window as Tzuyu begins to take you in and out of her mouth in a slow, steady pace, her lips wrapped tight against your length, her hand pumping what she can’t take between her lips.

She knew just how to pleasure you, knew from experience in your bedrooms and movie theatres and the backseats of cars how to bring you to your peak in a matter of minutes. But this was not one of those nights, not one of those hurried, emotionless expressions of lust and need that were fleeting, temporary, empty. She takes her time, working you in and out of her wet, slick mouth, relishing every entry and exit, relishing the salty, musky taste of you on her tongue.

You stare out past your window, out at the bright lights of the city and the snow piling atop balconies and stairs and rooftops. You glance at the party across the street, the same one you’d just left, and the thought of someone there seeing you here, now, with Tzuyu - it sends a thrill up your spine, one that is only heightened when Tzuyu closes her lips around the head of your cock and swirls her tongue around your tip. All the while she is pumping your length with her fist, the slickness of her spit on it creating a delicious friction. 

You sigh deeply, and it fogs the window in front of you, blurring the image of the city. You wipe at it with your hand. You want them to see. You want everyone to see.

Tzuyu pumps her hand faster, her tongue continuing its merciless swirling around your tip. You shut your eyes involuntarily.

Your free hand finds her scalp, fingers sliding between the chocolate strands of her hair and guiding her as she continues to pleasure you. You tear your eyes open, watching her, as though somehow by doing so you could convince yourself this was all real, was really happening. 

She opens her eyes, as if sensing you watching her, and she lets your cock slip from between her lips. Her tongue darts out and she places your tip on the flat of it. Her hand continues to pump the length of your cock. You watch as her free hand finds her own naked breasts, and begins to tease and pinch her own nipple. She wants you to cum, now, on her tongue and on her face. She wants to taste you, feel you on her skin.

It was almost too much, then and there. And as pleasurable and sublime as it would have been to let go, to fill her wanting, waiting mouth with your cum you knew you never would have forgiven yourself if you’d left it at that.

Your hand reaches down, your fingers finding her hand wrapped around your cock, and she knows what it means, knows what you’re telling her. She stops pumping, her fingers leaving your length almost reluctantly. She places one last kiss on your tip before rising to her feet.

Her eyes are locked on yours as she undoes the button of those ridiculous, tiny cotton shorts she is wearing. The zipper sounds almost too loud in the silence of your apartment as she tugs it down, loosening the flimsy garment and letting it fall first to her thighs, then down her legs until it’s on the floor. She kicks it away from her.

She turns around, faces the window. The lights of the city beyond gleam around her, surrounding her like a golden, glimmering halo of white, red, and green. She places her palms flat on the cold glass and looks over her shoulder at you. She spreads her feet on the floor slightly. Her back arches, the light casting a stark relief on the curve of her spine. She reaches back with one hand, pulls a cheek of her ass to the side, presenting herself to you. The light catches on the glistening lips of her cunt.

“Like this,” she says, softly. “Fuck me like this.”

You step close. Your cock presses impatiently onto the small of her back and she gasps at the feel of it on her skin. You reach around to cup a breast, relishing the weight of it in your hand, the stiffness of her nipple against your palm.

“They’ll see,” you whisper into her ear. “Everyone will see.”

“Good,” she answers, quickly, breathlessly. “I want them to. I want them all to see who I’m with, who I chose.”

That was it, all you needed to hear. You bring the tip of your cock to her dripping opening and slide inside her, filling her to the hilt.

“It’s you, Tzuyu. You. You’re all I want,” you say, desperately, into her ear.

“I know, I know,” she responds, always knowing, always understanding you, even as you begin to slide out of her before thrusting slowly, firmly back in. “I know.”

It was the second time that night you’d been inside her and somehow it felt like the first time you’d ever been with her. Things were different now; and while you weren’t quite sure what your relationship was or where it would go from here you knew at least that much - that it was different. This was not like the other needy, lonely fucks. This was so much more.

Tzuyu is a slick, silken vice around you and your eyes shut again, your brow furrowing as you fuck her against the glass. Your hands find her hips, trace a path up her spine to her shoulder, squeeze a full, round cheek of her ass - anything to hold her in place, fix her, as you slide in and out of her warm, wet little cunt. She’s wet, so wet - her arousal and perhaps the remains of the previous load you’d left inside her earlier that evening making her so very slick around your cock. Her cunt makes wet, creamy sounds as you slide in and out and the very sound of it is enough to make your head swim.

The soft, mewling gasps that leave her lips imprint themselves in mist on the glass as every thrust into her body sends another burst of pleasure up her spine. The gasps turn into moans as you increase your pace steadily, the way she liked. 

“Fuck,” she says, “Fuck. Yes, fuck me.”

You want to respond, want to tell her with words just how tight and wet she is, how wonderful she feels wrapped around your cock - but the feel of her is too much, robbing you of the ability to form coherent thoughts, much less words. Instead you tell her with your actions, ones you knew she would understand - the tightening of your grip on her shoulder and on her hip, and the deepening of each thrust into her cunt as you give her every inch of you from tip to hilt.

Her fingers scramble on the glass, nails seeking fruitlessly for something to dig into, to ground herself amidst the steadily growing pleasure. She rocks her hips back against you, meeting you thrust for thrust. Your hand finds its way into her hair, grasping a handful of it, even as she presses her head against the glass.

“Harder,” she spits, her breath fogging the smooth pane. “Harder, please. Use me. Take me, baby.”

It means something now, that word. That name for you - that name for lovers. Because now, finally, she’s yours.

Beyond her, the lights of the city twinkle - street lamps, Christmas lights, room lights from living rooms across the street. It paints her arched back and the globes of her ass in a multitude of swirling colors and she seems surreal, a painting, a work of art, right here in your hands. You try to focus on the way the lights move on her skin, a living canvas with moving paint - anything to distract yourself from the pleasure that was building a little too fast. You try anything to make this last just one moment longer, even as you know that control is already slipping from your fingers.

Tzuyu doesn’t share your need to prolong the moment, not when the allure of the pleasure coursing through her veins and the imminent climax it promised was too strong. For a few long, wonderful seconds she throws her hips back at you, eager for more of you, more of the stretch, the stiffness, the feeling of fullness you give her with each stroke. You know you’re hitting that spot inside her, just the way she loved. Her moans reach a new pitch. Her cunt tightens, drips more of her juices onto the base of your cock and down your balls.

“Cumming,” she hisses, just a moment before the pulsating of her cunt and the trembling of her limbs tells you that she does.

You continue to thrust into her, harder, even as the silken vice of her pussy pulsates and squeezes around you. You fuck her through her orgasm, which was something you rarely did, because usually you wanted to stay there hilt-deep inside her and just relish the sight and feel of Chou Tzuyu mid-orgasm; but a part of you tonight wanted to stake your claim on her, wanted to make her yours in a way she hadn’t been before.

“Fuck,” she hisses, mid-orgasm, as you continue to fuck her against the unyielding glass. Her upper chest pressed is against it now, breasts surely pressed flat against its cold surface. She, too, wasn’t used to being fucked through an orgasm - but she couldn’t deny the way it prolonged the aftershocks of her orgasm, the way every thrust of your stiff cock lengthened the shocks of pleasure still winding their way through her body. “Fuck, don’t stop,” she spits, brain still addled with the sensations radiating from her core, still seeking any way to prolong them, get more of them.

And so you don’t. How could you? How could anyone, deep inside the most beautiful woman on earth, and with the knowledge that she was finally yours lending each movement, each feeling, each sensation a weight that simply wasn’t there before?

You feel your orgasm building in the pit of your belly, know that despite your best efforts that this moment had to end. You never wanted it to. This was a much shorter session than even any of the many quickies you’d shared together and yet somehow it meant much more than any of them.

“Cum in me please,” she hisses, turning her head to look over her shoulder at you, as though she could sense by the erratic nature of your thrusts and the quivering of your grip on her shoulder that you were nearing your peak. She knew you so well. She knew everything about you, whether you wanted her to or not. She understood you in ways you didn’t even understand yourself.

“Tzuyu,” you say, because her name is all you can say. Her name is all you know, because she is all you know.

“Cum in me,” she repeats, a solemn request that on any other night - or even earlier in this one - would have taken the form of a lustful, wanton plea. But now she whispers it, quiet and reverent, almost hopeful, less a demand and more like a solemn request. “Please, baby. Please, make me yours.”

You never wanted anything more than that.

You press yourself as deep as you can inside Chou Tzuyu’s body and suddenly you’re cumming, filling her with you. She sighs and moans softly with each pulse of your cock, knowing that each one signalled another part of you that you were leaving inside her.

Your hand slides around her quivering upper body, finding her jaw, then her chin. You gently turn her head to meet yours, and you’re kissing, passionately, softly. You give her a few small, short thrusts into her cum-filled cunt, and you relish the sighs of pleasure that leave her mouth and fill yours. After a while you stop, still hilt-deep inside her. You feel the slick wetness between your bodies, slick and sticky, binding you together.

Your lips part. For a few long moments you watch each other, eyes finding something in each other that wasn’t there even a few minutes before; something that had always been there, perhaps, in the corners of your minds. For a few years it was kept hidden by a fear of rejection. But now, here it was, out in the open.

“Baby,” she says, softly. That name, again.

“Yes?” you answer, breathless, knowing you could answer to it freely, openly, without hiding any pain behind what it meant. Her lips curl into a smile as you answer to it.

“I could use some water.”

---

You return with a glass of water - her second. You suppose she never really got the chance to finish the first one.

“Tzuyu,” you say, softly, barely at a whisper, still somehow unable to say anything more than her name, so consumed by the thought of her, the idea of her. You hand her the glass. She takes it into her hands, giving you a smile as she takes a sip. 

She’s standing in front of the shelf with the pictures again, fully dressed, which was a little odd, given you were only away for a few seconds at most. You find yourself appreciating those shorts again, and the way they hugged the curves they just barely hid behind green cotton.

“You’re wondering why I’m wearing what I’m wearing,” she says, evidently having felt your eyes on her. She knew you. “Kind of silly to be wearing a t-shirt and the world’s tiniest pair of shorts out here in the middle of winter, isn’t it?”

“A little,” you admit. “It is pretty chilly out. But-”

“You know why,” she says, with a hint of something heavy in her tone. 

You ponder her words in silence. Something in the air changes - small, almost imperceptible, but undeniable nonetheless. A slight, tiny little shift.

The moments stretch out. Something between seconds and centuries pass, but you aren’t quite sure. At the end of it, you come to a realization. You knew why. Perhaps a small part of you, from the second you returned to the party, knew why.

Nonetheless, you ask. You had to know. You had to hear it from her.

“...why, Tzuyu?”

She takes another small sip of water. She looks up at you with a sad smile. Almost nothing else in the world could have broken your heart the way that smile did. Only the words that left her mouth next could have hurt more.

“...It’s because this isn’t really happening.”

---

“...What?” you say, even as you know, in your heart of hearts, that she’s right. Perhaps a small part of you had always known. Nothing this night seemed quite right, no matter how much you wanted it to be so.

“These clothes - I’m wearing them because they’re what I wore that night. The last time we were… together. They’re the clothes you remember me wearing the most.”

“...what? Tzuyu, I don’t understand-”

There is a sharp cracking sound, like someone snapping a thick twig or branch in two. You turn to find a sharp fault line appearing in your apartment wall. You watch as it deepens and spreads, and as others appear in the corners of your room. The floor is suddenly uneven, unstable. It wobbles. Your balance is thrown off, your feet unsure. You turn your attention back to Tzuyu, as though the sight of her could ground you in a reality you were no longer sure was real.

The glass of water in her hands is gone. Her eyes are sad, crestfallen, as though she were delivering news to someone who knew already what it was but was fearing its arrival all the same.

“...It’s kind of silly that I somehow knew where your party was, isn’t it?” she continues. “Think about it: you never told me where it was or who was throwing it, but I still found you.”

Every word that left her lips is heavy, hits you hard, as though it were a physical force. The truth hurt.

Your brow furrows as your brain scrambles to make sense of it all, but your mind is foggy. You try to find excuses or explanations for the night’s events, but answers elude you. 

“I know where you live, and it’s definitely not in this neighborhood,” she continues, taking a short glance out the window that you were both pressed against just moments before. The window is open now, and you can see clearly through it, as though there was no glass there at all. Beyond the window frame you can see the neighborhood around the building - and it seems foreign, completely different from the one you lived in. “You live on the other side of town, and yet at the party, you said you live right around the corner.” 

“Tzuyu, please,” you begin, as though you were about to beg her to stop. You didn’t want her to continue. You wanted to stay here, false reality or not. You wanted to stay here, in this pretend world, where she was yours-

“That’s because this never happened,” she adds, turning back to you. “None of this happened. You just happened to see me in line at the airport, and-” 

“That… no,” you say, unwilling to believe her, even if you knew she was right. The walls of your apartment begin to flake, like dried paint from an old wall, except behind it there is nothing but black emptiness. After a while, the emptiness begins to take shape, but it looks blurry and distant - dull colors, a pale green carpet. Kiosks and baggage. Rows of seats filled with the shapes of weary travellers waiting for flights. An airport.

“You’re not… you’re crazy, Tzuyu. This is real, this is happening. You said- you said I was the one, the one you wanted to be with!” you say, suddenly angry, suddenly upset at having this sweet, perfect world torn away from you, right when it was finally yours. Right when she was finally yours. Your hands ball into fists. Your brow furrows, and your teeth clench. Something like rage courses through your veins. Behind your eyes, tears form, although whether from sadness or anger, you weren’t quite sure.

The shelf with your framed pictures falls off the wall, down into the darkness, and along with it any chance of her ever having a place amongst them.

“She’s waiting for you,” she says, looking upward at the wide cracks in the ceiling, at the hazy airport terminal taking shape just outside the walls. She sees something or someone only she can see, and the corners of her lips curl into a sad smile. “You can hear her calling, can’t you?”

“Who?”

“Her,” she answers. You can hear it now - a female voice, one that sounded both familiar and strange. It’s repeating a single word, two syllables. It’s a name, but not yours. A pet name for lovers. One that Tzuyu used for you, even if it hurt you to hear it.

The floor has begun to shake, back and forth, as though some giant was shaking the building gently. The woman’s voice continues to call for you.

“I hear it,” you admit. The shaking intensifies slightly. The walls tighten, as though the giant’s grip was tightening on your apartment. “Who is she?”

 “The girl you met at the party. This same night. The one that you’ll-”

“Tzuyu,” you say, again, desperate now that you knew what this was, what was happening, even if you wished with every part of your heart that it weren’t so. Time was running out. This world, this vision, this dream, whatever it was - it was falling apart. “Please. Tell me. I need to know.”

“What?” she asks. The floor has begun to fall away, leaving only small patches of unconnected carpet. You’re standing on separate islands now.

“That night. I need to know what you said. What you said before I left. Please.”

She smiles. You would call it sad, her smile, but you knew that no words could possibly capture the depth of the emotion that you saw there. It’s the same one she had that night, when you left her apartment, when she said those words. That face was etched in your memory, engraved on your heart, and here it was again, a painful wound reopened.

“Tzuyu!” you shout, “-please. If… if I’d stayed that night, would we still be together? Would we… please, what did you say?”

Her lips part.

The world shatters. The last of the apartment falls away into nothingness. You’re suddenly falling.

---

You hear a voice, initially dull and far away, but rapidly increasing in volume, as though its source was coming closer and closer to you.

“Baby,” the voice says - female, sweet, but concerned. “Baby, are you okay?”

The words are loud, almost intrusive, and for a moment you want whoever is speaking them to stop, to leave, to let you fall further into the abyss, into a pit of loneliness and regret.

But then you remember who the voice belongs to. The memory brings you back. 

“Hey,” she says, and you feel her hand on your forearm. Her grip is firm, but familiar, as though she were someone you knew.

Your eyes open. The artificial, fluorescent light of the airport is almost painful to your tired, weary eyes. It’s not a dream. It’s reality, and for a few moments, reality hurts, in more ways than just the physical.

“Hey,” she repeats, and you turn to look at her. She seems blurry, her features indistinct.

“Baby,” she says, that word, that name that only she called you. It meant more in that moment than she would ever know, because in that moment it is all you needed to hear - a lifeline that you hold on to and grasp, one that brings you back to the real world. You hold on to it. Her voice is a talisman. A candle in the window, guiding you home.

Her face becomes clear, the blur disappearing and revealing a face you’d come to know, come to love. Her name forms on your lips, and you whisper it like a prayer.

“Kazuha.” 

“I’m right here, baby,” she says, worried. “What’s wrong? You looked like you were having a nightmare.”

Nightmare was one way to put it. You close your eyes, bring your hand to your forehead in an attempt to rub away the small sparks of pain and discomfort lingering behind your eyes as they re-adjust to reality. Beside you, Nakamura Kazuha reaches to stroke the back of your head, worry clear in her soft features.

“I’m okay, Zuha,” you say, even if you didn’t fully believe it yet. You return to using her nickname - you only ever used her full name in serious situations, which likely contributed to her concern. Your eyes find hers and you find comfort there, and strength, and more than a little relief. “I was just… I just had a dream.”

“About what?” she says, genuine concern in her eyes. She turns the blue baseball cap she wore around on her head, allowing you a deeper look at the worry on her delicate features. She looks tired and exhausted from the previous night, but even without an ounce of makeup and with a worried look on her face she’s still beautiful, still radiant amidst the dull grayness of the airport and the travellers within it.

“Nothing,” you say, with a weak smile. “I was… dreaming about the night we met.”

Satisfied that you were okay, Kazuha lets a small scoff escape her lips before they curl into a nostalgic smile. “It was a pretty crazy night,” she responds. “I mean, as far as Inbetween-Christmas-and-New-Years parties go.”

“It really was,” you agree, more than she would ever know.

“Who throws a party between Christmas and New Years, anyway?” she continues. “Everyone’s too fat on Christmas food and running on empty social batteries. Those days are for staying at home and living off of chocolate and cheese until the New Year.”

You chuckle. She squeezes your hand in hers. A thoughtful look finds its way onto her face. She hands you one of the two drinks she’d bought from the nearby Starbucks that she’d spent far too long in the lineup for. You take a sip, suddenly realizing how thirsty you were. You would’ve killed for a large bottle of cold water, but you supposed the coffee was good too. All of the drinks from the night before had left you dehydrated - people just wouldn’t stop pushing shots into your hands the whole night. Poor Joey ended up taking a lot of them for you, but such was the duty of the best man, and he took them all like a champ - even if he was likely paying for it now.

“I’m not sure if I ever told you this, but I almost didn’t go to that party,” she continues. “My friend needed someone to go with her, and she dragged me along.”

“Thank god you did,” you say, genuinely.

“Thank god I did,” she repeats, warm smile on her lips. “I wasn’t planning to stay for long. Maybe a drink or two before an Irish goodbye. I was just about to head out when I saw you come back to the party.”

“So you were into me from the start, huh?”

“Maybe,” she admits with a shy smile. “I was going to find you to talk to you more after your friend introduced us, but you disappeared for a bit. Good thing you came back, or who knows where you’d be right now?”

You smile. Behind your eyes, in a place she can’t see, tears form.

“We were meant to be,” you say, voice shakier than you’d anticipated.

“Meant to be,” she repeats, softly. 

The smile on her lips warms your heart, chases away the cold. Your hand finds hers. Your fingers intertwine. 

Your thumb brushes over the wedding band on her ring finger.

An announcement goes out over the airport’s PA system. Kazuha gives your hand another squeeze before rising to her feet, pulling you along with her.

“That’s us,” she says, suddenly joyful. There is a happiness in her eyes and in the smile on her lips that you want to keep forever, want to make into a patch to place over the scars the past has left on your heart. “Come on, baby. Let’s go rock this honeymoon. Maybe we can discuss consummating this marriage while we’re on the plane, because I’m not sure if I can wait until we get to the hotel room,” she adds, with a playful wink.

You smile - she always knew how to make you smile. In that moment you appreciate her, love her more than she will ever know. Your lip quivers with emotion as you look at her. She pulls you to your feet and toward the growing lineup by the airport gate.

You glance one last time at the coffee lineup - the last place you would ever see her. You learned later from a mutual friend that she’d married someone she worked with, and moved overseas. You’d never see her again.

Kazuha follows your gaze. “What’s wrong?” she asks. “See someone you know?”

You take a moment to think, to feel. You feel it all - the past, heavy and difficult with emotion about a path never taken, words never heard. It hits all at once, the events of a night years in the past, a night you’d thought you’d moved beyond and left behind. You see the dream now for what it is - that small part of your soul that asks, might always ask, what might have been.

You take a deep breath, letting the thoughts and emotions of that night swirl one last time around you. 

And then you leave it there, in the past, where it belongs.

“No,” you answer, the word filled with a conviction that you didn’t know you possessed until that moment. You look down at your new wife, and find the future in her eyes. “Only you, Kazuha.”

She smiles at you, and it burns away the last of the lingering pain and sadness. It melts from your heart like winter snow before a new spring morning, leaving only the warmth of your love for her. She’s all that matters now, all that ever will.

Some hours later, you join her on a beach, her hand in yours, the sand between your toes and the sea breeze light in your hair.

The day is warm.

---

Author’s Note: Love lost was still love.

[kashverse]

𝒯he 呪術廻戦 men taking your pug for a walk

⪩⪨ ✶ implied f!reader but can be read otherwise featuring ♡ modern au! jjk boys (gojo, nanami, toji, geto, sukuna, choso) and obviously, bitsy the pug. ✿ ⪩⪨ written in memory of my pug zoey <3

walking the dog. truly, an activity built on bonding, friendship, and your boyfriend turning to god for help when you bid him and your furry companion goodbye as they embark on this supposedly peaceful journey together.

but first, let me introduce you to bitsy. bitsy, the beautiful… pug. yes, bitsy the beautiful pug, because that is the only title the fat—i mean, chubby—pug will acknowledge. call her anything else, and she will stare at you with the cold, unblinking judgment of a creature who has never once been told “no” in her entire life.

she is round. she is spoiled. she is roughly 80% attitude and 20% actual dog. her tiny, smooshed face perpetually holds the expression of someone who has seen the decline of civilization and is unimpressed. and she is the queen of this household. you are merely her humble servant, and your boyfriend? he is about to learn that walking bitsy is not just a casual stroll—it is a battle of wills. because you see, bitsy does not simply go on walks. she allows herself to be escorted. and if she does not feel like walking? well, that is a personal problem for whoever is holding the leash.

gojo satoru has tamed curses, defied death, and bent reality to his will. naturally, he assumes walking a pug will be easier than all of that. "alright, bitsy," he says, crouching in front of her, his usual cocky grin in place. "let’s make a deal—you don’t make this difficult, and i’ll let you have a treat after. sounds fair, yeah?"

bitsy, the beautiful pug, does not respond. she simply blinks at him.

"see? already a great understanding between us. i like you, kid." he ruffles her tiny head before standing up, leash in hand. "now let’s—"

bitsy sits down.

gojo blinks. "okay. funny joke. but we gotta go."

he tugs the leash slightly. bitsy remains seated, her chunky body glued to the pavement as if she has just become one with the earth itself. "go on, walk," gojo insists, pointing dramatically in the direction of the park. bitsy, ever defiant, does not so much as twitch. a normal person might have taken this as a sign to reevaluate their approach. gojo satoru? he kneels back down, getting eye-to-eye with her, his tone suddenly serious. 

"listen here, you little meatball. i’m the strongest." he taps his chest for emphasis. "i bend the laws of physics for fun. you are a 20-pound pug with breathing problems. let’s think about this logically—"

bitsy yawns. 

gojo gasps. "oh, hell no. did you just disrespect me?"

passersby slow their pace, giving wide-eyed glances at the grown man locked in a silent battle of wills with a chubby pug.

"you walk, i give you a whole bag of treats," he tries bargaining.

bitsy blinks.

"go on a short walk, and i’ll let you ride in my jacket like a little emperor."

bitsy snorts.

"go on a three-step walk, and I’ll buy you a gold-plated collar. custom engraving. real diamonds."

bitsy lifts a paw. for a split second, gojo thinks he's won—until she uses said paw to scratch her ear. 

"oh my god." gojo clutches his head. "is this how nanami feels when i ignore him?" you watch from the porch, arms crossed, while gojo grovels at the feet of a pug. this is, quite possibly, the best thing you’ve ever seen.

nanami is a man of principle. so when you ask him to take bitsy for a walk, he treats it like an obligation—not a chore, not an errand, but a task that must be done correctly. he does research beforehand. what’s the ideal walking speed for a pug? how much exercise should she get? what environmental hazards should be avoided? when he finally takes the leash, he kneels slightly, adjusting her collar to make sure it isn’t too tight.

"comfortable?" he asks.

bitsy, for the first time in her life, looks mildly impressed. then, the walk begins.

nanami maintains a steady, measured pace, keeping an eye on the pavement for anything sharp or dangerous. when he notices bitsy lagging slightly, he adjusts his speed to accommodate her tiny legs.

when they pass by a particularly sunny patch of sidewalk, he lifts bitsy momentarily to keep her paws from getting too hot. by the time they return, bitsy looks serene. satisfied. pampered. "how’d it go?" you ask.

nanami takes off his watch and wipes his hands as if he’s just performed surgery. "adequate. though i noticed some dehydration near the twenty-minute mark. i gave her some water, but I’d recommend bringing a collapsible bowl next time." you look at bitsy, who is now reclining dramatically on the couch, clearly expecting you to continue this level of service.

"you—" you point at her, "—are getting spoiled."

nanami adjusts his tie. "as you should be, if you’re cared for properly."

you glare. bitsy smirks. you have lost.

toji fushiguro is not the kind of man you expect to see walking a pug. his whole vibe—scarred, broad-shouldered, perpetually dressed like he just walked out of a street fight—does not scream "pug owner." so when you hand him the leash, he stares down at bitsy like she’s an alien. "this thing?" he gestures vaguely. "this is the dog?"

bitsy snorts.

toji sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. "fine. let’s get this over with."

ten minutes into the walk, something strange happens. every male dog in the area starts losing their minds.

a german shepherd whimpers as they pass. a golden retriever pauses mid-fetch, dropping his tennis ball in shock. one particularly dramatic french bulldog flops onto his back in submission. toji stops. looks down at bitsy, then at the chaos unfolding. "what the hell is going on?" he mutters. bitsy, ever poised, continues strutting forward like she owns the streets. and then it clicks.

bitsy is not just a pug. she is a queen. the queen. these other dogs? they recognize royalty when they see it. toji watches a doberman sit his ass down just to stare reverently at bitsy.

"holy shit," he breathes. “i’m walking the goddamn dog mafia boss.” he looks down at her, suddenly understanding that this is no ordinary pug. this is a leader. and toji fushiguro? he is merely her bodyguard. by the time they return home, he’s holding the leash differently—less like a man doing a chore, and more like a man protecting an asset. "how was it?" you ask.

toji exhales. shakes his head. "i was humbled."

bitsy hops onto the couch, regal as ever. you do not ask any further questions.

geto is a reasonable man. rational, observant, always thinking three steps ahead. so when you ask him to walk bitsy the beautiful pug, he does not scoff, nor does he complain. he does, however, stare at bitsy for an uncomfortably long time, eyes narrowing in calculated suspicion.

“are you glaring at my dog?” you ask, crossing your arms.

“just… assessing.”

“assessing what?”

“whether or not this is an elaborate ploy. i wouldn’t put it past you to bring home something so unassuming, only for it to be a true menace.”

bitsy, completely unbothered, tilts her smooshed-in face up at him. geto sighs and clips on the leash. “fine. let’s go, creature.”

but here’s the thing—bitsy is smart.

at first, geto keeps his distance, walking like a man accompanying a colleague, not a pet. but soon, he starts noticing things. bitsy does not waste time sniffing every inch of the sidewalk—she knows exactly where to do her business, aiming for the most efficient spots like she’s planned her route in advance. she leads them to the best sunbathing patch in the park, where the pavement is warm but not scorching, and settles in like an old lady on her front porch. she watches passing dogs with the practiced indifference of someone who knows she is above them.

slowly, begrudgingly, geto starts to respect her.

by the end of the walk, they return in absolute silence, an unspoken agreement hanging between them. “…so?” you ask, curious. geto unclips the leash. bitsy waddles inside with all the grace of an empress.

“she’s efficient,” he says simply, rolling his shoulders like he’s just been in a tactical meeting. “i respect it.”

the way bitsy smirks at you before plopping down tells you everything you need to know.

you have one rule when sukuna takes bitsy out. do not encourage her bad habits.

you should have known better.

“did she push another dog aside to pee on the best spot?” you demand when they return. “duh.” sukuna tosses the leash onto the couch and rolls his shoulders like he just won a championship.

“did she hiss at a cat?”

“only ‘cause it was eyein’ her funny,” he shrugs.

“did you—” your voice catches as you take in the scene. sukuna is carrying bitsy—not just carrying, but holding her above his head, like a wrestler showing off a championship belt.

bitsy looks thrilled.

“you’re holding her like a WWE trophy.”

“damn right i am.” sukuna grins, utterly unapologetic. “my girl won today.”

“won what?”

“territory. respect. the goddamn sidewalk. tell ‘em, bits.”

bitsy snorts.

you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

“whatever. you can deal with her attitude now.”

sukuna smirks, tossing bitsy onto the couch where she lands like a sack of potatoes. “nah,” he says, ruffling her wrinkly head. “she’s just like me. perfect.”

choso has never fallen in love.

until bitsy.

it starts subtly. the way he adjusts her collar so it’s extra comfortable. the way he holds the leash just right, never tugging too hard. but then… then it gets worse.

bitsy, your once independent pug, has expectations now.

she cleans herself up when choso isn’t looking, wiping away snot and drool with her little paw, making sure she looks presentable for her beloved. she waits by the door when it’s time for her walk, tail wagging not for you, but for him.

and choso is worse.

he talks to her in that soft, affectionate voice he never uses with anyone else. he calls her sweetheart. he sits on the floor to be at her level. you are not proud of it, but one night, as choso cradles bitsy on the couch like she is the most delicate being in existence, you finally snap.

“i feel like a third wheel in my own relationship.”

choso looks up, confused. “huh?”

bitsy does not look up.

your eye twitches.

“you know what? never mind.”

[madamechrissy]

♔ Silent Serenades ♔

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Duke Satoru Gojo x Duchess Reader

♔ Content/Warnings: Explicit sexual content, pregnancy sex, lots of teasing and nipple play, super smutty and emotional, Oral ( m and f recieving) mentions of jealousy and past angst- a lot of closure I hope you enjoy

♔ Word count: this chap: 9k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you at all, leaving you a crying mess on your wedding night, alone. Now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage that destroys you from within. Royal AU, Cruel Duke Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful in this. You'll hate Satoru, warning you now. HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

A/N- dual povs <3 Comments and Reblogs verry appreciated if you enjoy

♔ Part Fourteen ♔ Masterlist ♔ Playlist

Part Fifteen- Take me back to the night we met

Satoru is going to be… a father.

You’re showing just a bit, a little roundness to your tummy and breasts, but mostly he can tell by your glow. They way your eyes glimmer brighter, the way your skin illuminates just so, as if it’s shimmering, he’s never seen anything like it, like your beauty with his child growing in you. How could you get more beautiful? It seemed unreal, just your little smile destroys him in an instant.

You’re snuggling up to his arm as you both near the inn on your journey up to Scotland, you’d been beaming about it all morning, Satoru just hopes he can make everything perfect, while still being somewhat terrified of what being a father will mean. Of fucking it all up royally, of not being good enough, and also he’s terrified of what the pregnancy means for you.

He’s heard horror stories of women in labor, of them dying after having children or even during, and that’s one thing Satoru cannot have, anything happening to you, ever. The thought of living one day without you is a torturous one that he just doesn’t think he could ever handle, you are his everything, you are his sun and his moon, his air in his lungs.

Now there will be a baby, and you’re already so damn thrilled, your little hand rests on your tummy already, having had it confirmed by the physician, you’d been a little sick at first but now you’re just sleepy very often. But your heart is so full, as you look up at your husband, who smiles softly at you, caressing your face while the carriage rocks back and forth.

“What are you thinking of, devious little Duchess?” He teases, you giggle then, chin tilting up as you look into the swirling blue storms of his eyes.

“Thinking how excited I am, for everything. I’ve never even seen Scotland, and I’m going to marry you again-”

“It’s going to be our first marriage, I refuse to acknowledge that night.” His words are a little hoarse, breaking your heart.

Satoru is harder on the past than you are to him, surely, you don’t think anyone could punish themselves more than he does. “Of course, you are right, this is our choice, hmm?”

“Our choice. My choice. Always you.” He kisses you, passionate presses of his lips, until you’re both heated, because when isn’t it that way?

No amount of domestic bliss truly helps the intense and insane need that the both of you constantly have for each other. The way he touches you, grabs you, possessive and hungry, the way your lips both move, desperate and messy, tongues sliding, teeth nipping. His hand entangles in your hair, yours clutches the stark fabric of his jacket.

Satoru’s kissing down your neck, yanking out a breast almost from your bodice, hot hungry kisses down your chest that make your back arch for more. “You’re more beautiful, you kill me.” He murmurs, as he nips a sensitive nipple with sharp teeth, earning a whine.

“I’m always wet lately, it’s so bloody inconvenient.” You grumble, he grins so deviously now, one of his big hands squishing a breast as he peeks at you with his swirling blue eyes.

“I love it, how’s it inconvenient, bratty girl?”

“It’s all the time, Satoru, is this some odd symptom!? Ah!” Satoru’s sucking your nipple in his mouth, hot and wet, your eyes roll back in your skull.

“Mmm…” He pulls back with a pop, saliva dripping from his lips, sapphire eyes locking on yours. “I have no clue of pregnancy, any more than you. Just know that you’re even sexier, god these tits, look at em.” Your eyes dart down, seeing them marked, glittering and glossy.

“They’re getting huge! You would like that, hmm?” Your eyes narrow and he snorts in laughter, kissing you as the heat pools between your thighs.

“Oh yes, can’t wait till they’re even fuller. Dripping milk.”

“You’re so insane sometimes, Duke… all the time, actually.” You whisper, but it’s half hearted, his dilated gaze so hungry only makes you more sensitive and needy.

“You love it, hmm, love me insane for you? Slutty Duchess.”

“Shush, man whore.” He glares now, snowy lashes lowering, cutting your giggle off with a bite that makes you gasp. “Ow!”

“Shut your pretty mouth, you love it.” You shove at him, looking at your now puffy nipple, before he yanks you on his lap, and you’re pressed against him, feeling he’s just as excited for you, when the carriage stops. “Just wait till I get you in the room.”

“Oh?” You smile just a bit, and he smirks, looking like the charming ass of a man he is.

“Oh.” He teases back, kissing you deeply, before pulling back and smiling. “Are you excited?”

“Very.”

The rolling hills of Scotland are breathtaking when you all arrive at Satoru’s estate a few days later, somewhere he hasn’t been in many, many years, not since he left everything for a time to escape here. A time when he had to escape his father, escape Adelia, he had spent much time here, alone.

The memories linger but are so quickly replaced by the beauty of you in everything that you do. Despite the insane beauty of the rolling land, of the hills and cliffs jutting out, the warm sun illuminating everything, Satoru can’t help but watch you, as you’re eyeing everything in wonder, your face lit up.

You are a better sight than anything.

“It’s a far cry from London, hmm?” He teases, and you shake your head, hair loose and flowing softly over your shoulders, as you clutch your little green cape tightly around you.

“It’s a million times better than London ever could be. Oh, I do not think I’ll ever want to go back!?” You grab his hand as you look up at his sprawling estate, so different from the Gojo manor, no it’s breathtaking and bright, not dark and brooding like what you’re used to, brighter and more open.

Satoru chuckles as you run up to the doors, lifting your skirts as you do, smiling behind your shoulder at him. “A chase, hmm?” You nod, giggling, and Satoru runs after you, quickly catching you with his long strides. “Got you.”

“Because you’re so lanky! No fair!” He picks you up, chuckling and spinning you in his arms, kissing you over and over. You’re melting in his embrace, arms wrapped around his neck as he holds you tight.

“Are you ready to see inside? I had them prepare it for us.” You nod eagerly, and Satoru carries you over the threshold in his arms, your feet still dangling, slippers up off the stone floor.

When he puts you down, you are greeted with several servants waiting for his orders, and you take in the surroundings of the castle, the immaculate high ceilings, every aesthetic so different from Gojo Manor. It’s much older, hundreds of years you imagine, things are more simple and slate gray, versus the ornate paintings and coverings of the manor.

“Your Grace.” They all curtsey and bow, one of the men in kilts come up and smiles at you both then.

“Hello there, it’s been a long time.” Satoru says, smiling and patting him on the shoulder, the slender man with glasses smiles.

“Indeed it has, Master Gojo.” You blink a bit at the name.

“He sort of raised me for a few years.” Satoru murmurs, and you smile brightly up at him then.

“Then it’s a pleasure!”

“And a pleasure to meet this lovely wife of Master Gojo’s. He does go on and on in his letters-”

“Ah-ah.” Satoru scowls at him, but you’re giggling behind your gloved hand.

“So sorry, Master Gojo. Well then, shall we show you to your chambers? The ceremony is set for tomorrow.”

“Indeed, it sounds perfect.” Soon you and Satoru are in a giant bedroom with an even bigger bed than you have seen, you’re wide eyed at it.

“Was this meant for your harem?”

“Psh, brat.” You giggle as he helps unlace your bodice, pecking little kisses along the backs of your shoulders. “I was not whoring in Scotland.”

“Good, no need to burn all your beds.” You peek up at him with a little smile, he laughs softly then, cupping your face as your bodice falls to the ground, kissing your lips softly.

“I’d burn the world for you, Duchess.” You gasp as he unlaces your stays, unzipping your skirts until you’re bare, looking at the mirror in front of you, his hand splaying the expanse of your stomach.

“The things you say ruin me, Duke.” He exhales, kissing across the nape of your neck now, your head falls back against his chest, moaning softly.

“I desire to ruin your pretty mind, pretty body every day, don’t you know?” You’re whimpering when his long fingers find you, your little pearl, soaking him as you watch, blushing from the sight, eyes wide and glittering. “Do you enjoy it, watching us?”

“It’s scandalous…” You murmur, he chuckles then, and you turn, undoing his vest, sliding off his dress coat, then his dress shirt carefully, baring his perfectly chiseled body to your gaze. You trace the fine muscles of him, while he looks in the mirror at the curve of your ass, the jut of your hips, making him hard when he grabs it, feeling it firm in his palms.

“God, look at you, pretty at every angle.” You nervously look behind yourself, as he spreads you just so, to where you see everything.

“Oh goodness. I’m not sure I’ve… seen all of this?” He laughs again, moaning when you look back at him, and he frees your hair from the endless pins, they clatter along the floor.

“I get to look at this every day, see how lucky I am?” He asks, and you smile sweetly, undoing the buttons of his breeches.

“I am the lucky one, looking at your body.” You start trailing kisses down his chest, pale and perfectly sculpted, tongue darting across a flat pink nipple, making his breath catch, when you start touching his cock gently.

“Fuck… get on your knees, Princess, hmm?” He orders softly, and you eagerly do, helping him out of his breeches completely, his pretty cock smacking his belly button before settling, jutting thick and long.

“And what does my Duke wish for me to do?” You tease, two little hands pressing into the muscles of his thighs, tongue kitten licking his tip, already leaking precum.

“You’ll make me beg for it?” He demands, and you giggle, nodding as he brushes back your hair, holding it in a ponytail, pulling just so.

“Would it hurt for you to beg?”

“You’re evil.” He groans, and you lick him again, but make no move to suck him, fingers darting across the soft white hair on the base of his cock.

“I can just kiss it?” You do just that, delighting in the tensing of his muscles, while blue eyes narrow.

“Bratty girl. Open your mouth.” You do just that. “Suck me down that tight little throat, please?”

You eagerly do as he asks then, sucking his cock down your throat eagerly, moaning and making him lose his tentative control, as he looks at the looking glass, seeing his beautiful wife on her knees, servicing him. He surely does not deserve any of this, he thinks, wondering just how he has you, when you suck him deeper and deeper with each stroke.

His hands pull at your hair when he begins to stroke his hips. “Want me to fuck your slutty throat, Princess?” His words end you, making you so soaked you’re aching to touch yourself.

You just nod a bit, and he begins to cup your face, fucking into your throat, groaning as you take him so well, as he feels you gagging and choking on his cock, staring at your pretty teary eyes. Drool, tears all pooling down and mixing with the salty sweet taste of him in your mouth, pussy throbbing around nothing, but your hands stay on his thighs.

“You’re such a good girl, you know only I can touch you?” You nod again, and Duke Gojo chuckles, sucking in a breath as he pulls you off him gently. “What if I let you, hmm?”

 You pull off, cheeks hollowing, licking your lips. “What? You never let me, you psychotic Duke.”

“Maybe I want you to.” He helps you up gently, kissing his taste off your lips, turning you until you’re on the bed.

“You really want to see me touch myself?” You’re blushing now, and he smiles as he watches the pretty color spread.

“You blush everywhere.”

“Hush! You’ve never…”

“I’ve spit in your mouth, and now you’re shy?” You cover your face, nodding, and he spreads your thighs, planting a little kiss on your clit, watching you jerk as his laugh tickles it. “You have tried to when you’ve sucked me.”

“Um… yes well…”

“It does not bother me if you… with…” He cups your face now gently, and your eyes meet his. “Whatever you did before me and you? It doesn’t bother me. I promise you, I know it’s only us.”

You blink rapidly, taking a nervous breath. “How’d you know?”

“You didn’t just figure out touching yourself on your own, sheltered as you were I imagine.” You nod then, nervously, biting your plump lower lip. “If I didn’t do things that I did with other women? Well we’d do nothing.”

“Whore.” He snorts.

“You’re a little slut.”

“Mmm…” You kiss him then, desperately, as he hovers over you.

“Show me, then. My permission.”

You take another breath, as he eases back on the bed, kneeling between your thighs, spreading them just so, you take a finger and place it between his lips, he moans as he sucks it into his mouth. After pulling it back with saliva dripping, you find your clit between your lips, pressing up and gasping, Satoru’s eyes dilate then, the pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

He watches hungrily as you run little circles over your clit, whining out, hips shifting, him watching you making it even more erotic, even naughtier to you. You’re growing slick under your ministrations, as you press on your clit that’s stiffening and twitching under your touch, wetness pooling to your little hole.

“Is that what you do? Have you cum from it?” He kisses your knee, hands itching to take over. You shake your head with a little moan.

“No… j-just feels good.” He exhales now, teeth nipping into the plush of your thigh, thumbs trailing down your skin in little circles.

“Make yourself cum, then, hmm? Keep showing me.” Satoru’s pearly seed is leaking out of his pretty pink tip as he watches you intently, hands gripping tighter as you keep rubbing circles, crying out as you do, fingers slick and glistening with your arousal. He’s stroking his cock now with a hand, moaning softly. “Put them in.”

“Inside?” You whisper, he nods then, and you flush even brighter, looking so pretty his cock aches to be buried in you. “Like this?”

You slip a finger inside yourself, breasts smushing between your arms as they press together, your other hand reaching for his shoulder, pulling him toward you just a bit, so that his hot length presses on your thigh just a bit as his hand moves. His grunts and the sound of the squishing wetness mix in the chamber, as his eyes worship every bit of you.

“Try two, you have tiny little fingers.” He says hoarsely, and you slip both in then, just to the first knuckle, pumping up and down, brows drawing together as you crave the cock he’s stroking right near you. “How’s it feeling, Duchess? Do you feel how tight you are?”

You manage a weak little nod, continuing to pump your fingers as he pumps his cock, his free hand gripping a breast, squishing it just so, thumb brushing across your nipple. You’re so wet your fingers slip, drenching your hole and further down, making a mess for his eyes, your eyes fluttering shut as you picture him so deep, making you more sensitive.

“Not gonna cum from this… need you, Satoru.” Satoru laughs softly, leaning over you now, taking your fingers and sucking them into his mouth, drinking your arousal off them, so sexy your cunt is clenching around nothing.

“Can’t even make yourself cum?” He taunts, tip pressing at your entrance, making you grip his arms tightly, feeling the muscles tensing under your grip.

“Need you.” You repeat again, desperately, and then he presses into you, moaning as he feels you gripping him.

“Your little fingers don’t stretch you out, do they?” You shake your head, feeling the delicious stretch as he sinks deeper, you’re whining now, thighs trembling against his hips, one of his hands slips up your waist as he presses his heavy weight over you, kissing down the side of your jaw. “You’re so tight, fuck…”

“Ngh…” Is all you manage to squeak out, when he sinks in fully, buried to the hilt inside you. “T-told you… too tiny to do… anything- ah!”

“Need mine, do you?” You nod eagerly, as he captures your lips in a searing kiss, rocking his cock inside you so deep, you’re close with just a few strokes, so overworked by your own ministrations, by him watching you.

“Only n-need you.” Duke Gojo is desperate then, frantic as he holds himself up on an elbow, the other arm grabbing one of your thighs, slinging it over his hip to sink himself deeper inside you.

“I only need you, Princess. Fucking perfect for me, just me.” You feel tears prick your eyes at the overwhelming sensations, of him fucking so deep into you, tip dragging just so on that spot in your velvety walls, as they drool down him.

“For you…” He drinks your cries, a hand entwining with yours over your head, slowly rocking his hips deep, you’re cumming all over his cock then, fluttering and gripping him so hard he can hardly stand it.

“I’ll stretch you out next time, this is too much… fuck…” You giggle, breathless, earning his glare.

“Too much for you, Duke? Gonna cum in me?” He slams into you then, shutting you up with one thrust against your cervix.

“Evil duchess. Yes.” You can’t giggle again, not when he’s lifting your hips like you’re his little doll, fucking into you harder and harder, until he’s cumming so deep, and you’re shattering with him, lips drinking in the cries that are echoing in the room, his cock pumping more and more cum until you’re too full.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, so breathless, Satoru has drips of sweat falling down onto you as he kisses you over and over, slowly pumping more and more of the seed spilling out of your hole.

“Do you have to feel so fucking good? Never wanna leave.” He muses, kissing you over and over.

“Mmm, she’ll push him out you know.”

“Yes, evil like you.” He eases out as your muscles contract, earning a glare from him now. “You’re so evil.”

“Says you! Didn’t even touch your bride to be?” He laughs then, kissing you and slipping a finger down your sensitive slit, making you jerk.

“I’ll take good care of you on the wedding night. Have my face buried in you, hmm?”

“On a plaid and everything?”

Satoru eases up now, sitting you up with him, a hand running down your spine, sending shivers across it. “You want me to lay you out on a plaid outside?”

“Outside!?” He smirks now.

“Yes outside, it’s how it’s done, you know, traditional Scottish weddings. You’d take your bride out to some pretty meadow and lay her down.” The images make you heat up all over again, he watches you curiously. “I see, slutty Scottish bride.”

“It does sound intriguing. But I’m more excited to wed you truly.” He pulls you against his chest tightly.

“As am I.”

The ceremony the next day leaves you breathless, as you walk into and see the rows and rows of candles along a trail in the dark evening, stars glittering the sky along with a bright full moon. You’re dressed in a traditional Scottish gown that clings to your figure, the material feeling thick and quite different than you’re used to, but it’s perfect for the slight chill in the air.

The evening breeze that gently caresses your overheated cheeks as you clutch a bouquet of hand picked flowers, flowers your husband picked. It seems insane, if you didn’t live through it you wouldn’t believe such a thing possible, your very rich and pampered husband digging through wildflowers in a grassy field, in his finest suit no less.

He’d given you this boyish, sweet grin as he’d handed them to you this morning, every day you see so much more charm in his blue eyes, glittering and swirling as he’d kissed your forehead this very morning. You fall deeper for him every moment, that he lets go, that he trusts you, that you see who he was and who he always has been, even when he didn’t show it.

Of course you remember it, the nights alone staring at your ceiling, terrified of the man but also yearning for him, torn into pieces and split in two. You remember the cruelty, but you look at it with different eyes. He was hurting deeply and hurt you in turn, and though it was not right, you no longer have resentment, not when he makes you feel so happy every day.

Not when he looks at you that way, when he touches your tummy, big hand splaying the slightly rounded expanse, smiling softly, his snowy lashes lowered as he pictures having a baby. Not when he is trying the best he can, despite being completely terrified at times at being a father, Satoru is trying, and he tries so hard every day, he slowly kisses away each worry.

You can feel it now, like a new beginning, grinning when you see him wearing a kilt of all things, Satoru Gojo in a kilt! You’re smiling so big your cheeks hurt, he’s got this sash over his chest, his white hair slicked back just so, his bare knees something one just never saw. He looks you up and down as you get closer, walking through the trail of candlelight.

You take his very breath away, bright and beaming, glowing with the baby inside you, each step you take bringing you further into his view. Your plaid makes you look like some medieval Princess, but you were his Princess, weren’t you? Clutching the flowers he’d picked so tightly, smiling so sweetly.

Satoru feels it, a new beginning, one where he can start over, his kilt fluttering slightly in the breeze as his eyes lock with yours. You feel a warmth spread through your body, reaching every part of your soul, heart racing and thrumming in your chest as you get closer and closer, and as you approach him, his gaze never leaves yours.

The priest is standing in front of him, holding a large ribbon in his hands, as Gojo’s grin glints in the darkness. Gojo’s hand reaches for yours, his grip firm but gentle, large hand taking your little one in his, bringing it up to his lips then, you feel the press of his lips on your skin as you take a little breath, air puffing just slightly with the chill that’s approaching.

The ribbon is placed over your joined hands, the Priest begins to wrap them, and an overwhelming sense of emotions are taking you over, something so beautiful then as you look at each other with soft smiles. When the Priest has finished wrapping you both together, handfasting it’s called, he smiles at you.

It’s just you two, there are no guests, no grand affair to see what is truly so beautiful, so precious with you both. No one but a couple people really know what happened, and even those that do know, have no sense of your hearts, your souls, that entwine with each other so deeply.

“Satoru Gojo,” you start softly, he exhales, looking intently as your entwined wrists press against each other. “I am so in love with you, with who you are, deep inside here, all smushy.”

“Tch.” He rolls his pretty blue eyes, and you giggle then, before sombering just a bit, stepping even closer, tilting your head to look up at him.

“I love who you are, how you make me feel. I love a new chance at this, a new start for us, so desperately needed.” Your voice drops to an emotional whisper, as Satoru’s eyes begin to glisten with his own tears. “I fell in love with you when I didn’t want to, when I fought it so hard, tooth and nail, but then even, I knew it, as I saw you in every dream.”

He whispers your name softly, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“And now, we will have a family, and I know it’s so quick, I know we still have so much to learn from each other, but I know you’ll be a great father, you’re a kind, smart, funny and sweet human, despite you acting so brooding.”

“Hush.” He’s holding back his own emotions, as your hand rests on his atop your cheek. “Making me cry, hmm? Bratty Duchess.”

“I love that you’re opening more and more to me.” You whisper then, voice hoarse with emotion. “I love you more with every breath I take, so overwhelming to me, and now… I love this so much.” You touch your tummy with your free hand, looking so beautiful with the candles glowing, casting shadows across the little stone path you both stand on.

Satoru says your name, earning your eyes looking up at his, eyes that are so intense it hurts at times to look at, eyes that pull you in, that make you ache, make your heart flutter. You cannot take it for just a moment, the intensity of the swirling blue orbs that once filled with detest for you, that now are so full of love, affection. Lust and want in equal measured.

“You make me feel that I have no need to be ‘perfect’.” You say softly, tears flowing down your cheeks as he gulps, his heart breaking for you. “I can be imperfect, and still be perfect for you.”

“You are perfect for me, in all your imperfections is where your beauty truly shines. Your witty, bratty mouth.” You giggle then, earning him sniffling just a bit, as you both have tears fall in the night. “Your laughter, your pretty genuine smile, not the little practiced one you used to throw around. You light up my heart with it, a heart I once thought shattered.”

“Oh, Satoru…” You’re resting your foreheads together as he bends low at the hip, his sweet breath against your lips.

“I have fallen madly in love with a messy, foul mouthed, emotional brat.”

“Excuse me!?”

“She has such a temper.” He rolls his eyes, smirking then, as you glare up at him. “She’s so pretty angry.”

“I swear you’re insolent!”

“You love it. You love me, whole heartedly, when I did not think or know I deserve love from you.” Teasing is gone now, as you listen with your breath caught in your throat. “You loved me when I was cruel, when I was low, you showed me kindness even in our most wicked battles against each other. You tried to understand me before I let you in.”

All you can do is nod weakly, feeling every bit of his soul with yours, as if the ribbons truly were binding you both.

“I promise you, with all that I am, I will never fail you again.” He clears his throat, as both of your hearts pound in your chest, and you are shaking your head. “Let me say this. I will be everything you need, everything you want, everything you deserve. I will give you the world, if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Satoru!” You’re kissing him, you can’t help it, not when the man you love is there, when he’s promising to give you the world. His free hand entangles in your hair, lips working over yours, hungry. “I promise you, I will give you everything I am. I’m yours, Satoru Gojo, my Duke, my husband.”

“And you’ll have all of me, Princess. Every bit, even the parts you don’t want.” You laugh through your tears as you kiss him once more, softer now, before the priest clears his throat, both of you jumping slightly, blushing. You both look into each other’s eyes, as he says something in Gaelic, which both of you are unfamiliar with, watching curiously.

 He smiles at you both now. “In English - “With a tie not easy to break, take the time of binding.” His cadence is lilting as you and Satoru listen eagerly. “The wish that your marriage will be strong, that your love will last, in this life and beyond, what the ties symbolize.”

He gently eases the ribbons off you both, smiling at the two of you, a couple so in love one would never have a clue of what you both went through. He sees a tall young Duke so enamored with his pretty Duchess that he can’t look away for a second, and sees a pretty young lady that has stars in her eyes as she looks up at him, your love radiating and intense.

“I will leave you both to this.” The priest leans his head just a bit in the direction of the goblets of honey mead sitting on a little table in a pretty lit Gazebo, which you both pick up as you step under the awning, putting the rims to your smiling lips as you put the rim of yours to his, and you sip.

“We’re married, truly married this time.” You tease, he laughs then, pulling you against him, so very tightly with those strong arms you nearly fall, giggling with flushed cheeks from the drink.

“We are married.” He kisses you again, before he pulls back with the most devious smirk on his pretty lips. “Shall I take you traditionally?”

“Oh goodness, what even is that?” He’s pulling you to him, putting down your goblets then.

“Take you right here.” he’s easing off the enormous plaid that’s over you, laying it down gently on the floor, you’re looking around, earning his soft laugh. “My brave little Princess is scared?”

“What if someone sees!” He walks around you, fingers drifting across your chest now, darting across your skin, leaving networks of goosebumps in their wake, until he’s brushing your hair to one side, making your breath quicken. “Mnh…”

“You like that idea, hmm?” He’s kissing hot, open mouthed, shooting pleasure across your entire body. “Let me show you what I should have done, that night you looked so beautiful.”

“Satoru…” You choke on a cry then, when he unbuttons the dress from your skin, moaning against you, the intensity of his every action growing as more of your pretty skin is revealed for his hungry eyes, all lit up under the soft glow of the little candles all around.

“I should have kissed every bit of your pretty body.” You hear it, the desperation in his voice now, but god if you could see his eyes, glowing so brightly blue as he stares at your back, running his fingers across the delicate red marks from the ties of your dress pressing in. He watches the goosebumps rise across your spine, as your head falls to the side.

“I wish that you did.” You hate it, the longing escaping, while you’re nearly naked aside from your skirts, which he starts to make work of, tilting your chin up to have you look at him.

“You wish I touched you that night?” He asks, confusion clear on his features, you nod then, blinking tears that quickly are whisked off your cheeks.

“I know I would have melted for you.”

Satoru’s hands brush up and down your body ever so slowly, images burning in his brain, of if he did not get in his own way, if he tried, if he gave it a chance. So much it overwhelms him, leading him to one realization then, while you’re arching towards him with your eager body. “But we were not ready, were we?”

“No, not yet.” You agree softly, shaking your head, as you’re left completely bare for him, naked outside which seems like insanity, as he helps you step out of your skirts, leaving your stockings, garters and slippers on only. He walks to the front of you, drinking you in, your beauty, everly line and curve of you, hands gently brushing the sides of your breasts.

“But now we’re ready, and I’ll show you.” He kisses your hand, eyeing the stockings that had driven him mad that night, the same ones with your little bows, gently pulling you to kneel on the plaid with him now, easing off his jacket, baring his skin, your fingers run across it but he captures them. “You’ll let me kiss you everywhere, every inch, hmm?”

“Can I not kiss you?” You smile when he places his jacket under your head, hand slipping down your body, tummy trembling under his touch.

“I want it about you.” He says huskily, teasing touches brushing across your arms, your waist, your hips, as he hovers just over you, and you’re arching up for more of him. “Of what I wanted to do.”

“Show me please.” Your whisper ends him, he’s kissing you deeply, tongue moving in a motion that his body aches to follow, resting on one elbow as he lays over you, a hand gripping your breast, squishing it and making you gasp. “Ngh!”

“I wanted to suck on these pretty nipples, poking out of that chemise, tantalizing me to no end.” You blink rapidly when he sucks one areola into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it, fingers squishing into the softness of your breast, making your hands enwrap in his hair.

“Satoru…”

He pulls back with a pop, turning his attention to your other breast while he looks at you with lidded, dilated eyes, tongue licking right around your other nipple. “Sensitive, Princess?”

“Very-ah!” You’re soaked between your thighs from just this, from his teasing of your breasts, kissing them, nipping them, lavishing them, until he’s kissing lower, right above your belly button, exhaling against your skin that tingles under his breath, making your thighs press together, craving friction.

“I wanted to tell you these stockings were killing me, hiding your pretty legs and making me want to…” He unsnaps your garter now, slipping the stockings down your skin, pressing kisses slowly down your thigh, your calf, your ankle. “Kiss them, just like this, watch you write with pleasure.”

You moan as he nips your ankle, his hand slipping down your thigh, backs of his fingers brushing against the slick heat of your pussy, which throbs with need, mixing with the intense feelings swirling your mind. The desire, the look he gives you, the need in his eyes, you flash back to your wedding night, shutting your eyes for just a moment, trying to breathe.

“You’re remembering.” He murmurs, you shake your head, tears forming from your eyes when he slips off your other stocking, now leaned down, cupping your face as he rests up on his elbows over you. “It’s alright to remember.”

“It’s not, I don’t want to think of you that way, Satoru. I only want to know this.” You whisper, your hands slipping down the muscles, the ribs of his torso, as he shakes his head, sad smile on his face.

“It’s okay to remember, just know that was not me, was not what I wanted. I wanted you from the moment you looked at me that way… that little glare, the smack on my face? God how I wanted you.”

“You’re insane, you know.”

“We both are.” He kisses you, a little softer now. “I wanted to please you, make you shout my name, and I didn’t know why, why you did that to me. Why you made me want to please you so badly with my mouth, watering every time you fucking came near me.” Your hips buck up as he touches your slit again, sliding slippery fingers up and down, finding your twitchy clit.

“T-Toru… please…” You’re whimpering as he runs his fingertip in a tantalizingly slow circle, smiling softly, lips glossy from your kisses.

“I’ll get there, impatient Duchess. Let me take my time tonight, bride.” The words are too much, they end you, your body shaking when he slips a finger inside your entrance, already soaked, earning his groan, cock throbbing now with how badly he needs you. “I would have tried to keep control, but…” He slips two in.

“Ah!” You’re clinging to his bare shoulders desperately, your blunt nails pressing against his biceps, pressure building in your tummy as he curls them just so.

“I’d have lost control at how wet you were, I don’t know how gentle I’d have been.” He says, kissing lower, pressing your thighs apart as his fingers work you like the keys on a piano, tapping and pressing and pushing, while he smirks against your tummy, pressing a kiss.

“Y-you’d have lost control? Been rough?” You whisper weakly, he chuckles against you, making you jerk, as he kisses the hood of your clit, pulling his fingers out to suck you off him.

“After I tasted you, I would have lost my mind, even that night yes, god how could I not.” Satoru damn near growls, as he stares at your pretty pussy. “She’s so wet for me, isn’t she?”

You nod quickly, gasping as he laps a bit of your honeyed arousal from between your glistening folds. “When am I not wet for you? It’s most… disconcerting-ah!”

“Is it?” He’s drinking you now, burying his face against your pussy, drinking and sipping all your wetness away, only for you to produce more, so much it’s unreal, coating his face with it, dripping off his chin as he moans. “Fuck…”

All soft pretense is gone as Satoru loses himself tasting you, long fingers pressing against the plush of your thighs as he pulls your hips so that he can devour you properly, bringing you to the edge so quickly you have to cling to his silky hair. He’s rolling his tongue inside your slick, velvety walls, which flutter around the wet muscle while he massages every bit of you so thoroughly.

His nose hits your clit, sending you just over that edge, and Satoru moans, cock leaking precum, looking up to see your face screw up with pleasure, as your climax rocks your body, and you’re gushing all over his face again. He moans, slurping it up, all while little fireflies dance in the field, the manor behind you while you’re naked in the night for him.

“You’d h-have done all… that?” You whisper weakly, he moans then, sliding up you, kissing you, letting you taste yourself off his lips while he grips a thigh.

“I could lick you for hours, but I’m just a little too… hard to not…” Satoru’s just now taking the kilt and pulling it up, you’re flushed then.

“Oh!?”

He grins. “Scots are easy-access people, I quite like it.” He teases your entrance with his tip, kilt still on as you lay atop the plaid, waiting for your husband to fill you. “I’d have gone slow on the first stroke, sure.”

He eases inside your tight hole now, you’re whining out at it, head falling back, as he fills you inch by inch, so many inches, until your cavern is filled with nothing but his length. He moans then, feeling you grip him, cumming again when he’s fully stuffed his cock in you.

“You’d be that easy?” He huffs, you try to glare but it fails, as you’re pulsating all around him, and his own eyes roll back you feel so good. “Fuck…”

You’re pathetic then, whimpering as your thighs shake, Satoru’s body shielding you from the chill of the evening. “T-Toru…”

“God, feel her.” He’s moving then, huffing as he fucks into you, deep strokes that wreck your cervix, as his big hands take your body over, pushing you down onto his cock.

The wind is playing with his silvery hair, tousling it just so as he fucks you, eyes boring into yours, seeing through you. “Toru…”

“I’ve got you, Princess, shh.” He sinks so deep it hurts, but the pain is fucking perfect, when he’s got his face buried against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin in a bite, mixing pain with pleasure again.

“Mnh!” You’re just whining as he thickens inside you, stars swirling in the sky as the night comes, fuzzier and fuzzier while he works over you.

You’re crying out now, begging, sobbing, your nails digging into his back as he thrust at a maddening rhythm, kissing you again, drinking your cries, your nails leaving scratches as his thumbs leave bruises. “I fucking love you.” He whispers, and you cry out as it’s met with him rolling his hips inside you.

“L-love you!” You’re panting now, cupping his face as he stares right into your eyes, as everything starts to fall into its perfect place. “This… is our- mnh!”

“Wedding night.” He finishes the sentence, brushing your tears when he sinks in fully, your cunt struggling to take him, stretching as he presses your thighs up. “And on our wedding night I’ll fill you so good, hmm?”

“Please.” Your little beg ends him, he’s fucking erraticaly, strokes hitting deep as his tip drags on your walls, your legs wrap his hips, heels of your feet resting against his thighs as he begins to fall off the edge with you. “Cum inside.”

“Needy, Princess?” You just nod, you are.

“Please.” Your eyes lock, and he pumps into you then, resting his head on yours, entwining a hand with yours, the same hands that had been tied with that ribbon, pouring inside you, so much you’re sent again with him, cumming from being filled with his hot white seed. “Mnh!”

“F-fuck… oh my… fucking perfect…” The word, it just feels fine, after all this time, Satoru cumming inside you, with you, it is perfect.

You’re crying when he pulls up, looking down and gulping, trying to catch his own breath, his heart pounding against the breasts squished under his chest. “It’s good tears, swear.”

“Oh, I know. I know you, every bit of you.” Satoru says, kissing your tears away, as he swallows down his own. “I’ll never get enough of you, of this.”

“Nor will I, Satoru.” He’s kissing you, falling into you again, until you realize you both fell asleep out on the gazebo, you wake up and sleepily blink, seeing him smiling, watching you sleep.

“Your snores, so cute.”

“Shut it.” You’re laughing as you kiss him again, snug under the plaid, blissful with your husband, your Duke, once so cruel, now brightly smiling, brushing your hair back so sweetly. “Good morning, husband.” You whisper.

“Good morning, Wife. Gods, I never want to leave?”

“Me either. We could just stay?” You grin at him then, and you both sigh. “Too many blasted duties.”

“Indeed, but, we will make this our yearly trip.” You giggle in excitement, snuggling even closer to him.

“I love this idea, oh and we’ll have a little one!” He smiles softly, touching your stomach.

“I’ll have to fight for attention, I suppose.” You shove at him playfully, to land on top of him, as he exhales, hands running over your body under the plaid. “God I fucking love you.”

“I fucking love you.”

“Dirty mouthed brat.”

“Excuse me!?” He’s kissing your lips, over and over, hands now gripping your ass, making your sore pussy throb again for him.

Six Months Later

You’re at the King’s ball, but this year you are no longer the diamond, no you’re the Duchess, and likely about to pop soon, a round tummy and even rounder breasts, that enamor Satoru to no end. When he’s helping you dress, he’s running his hands over the curves of your body, curves you’re not accustomed to, but he makes you feel beautiful.

Every new line from the baby earns several kisses from Satoru as he worships your body, every time he feels the baby kick he gets more excited. But, tonight you both have your duties, and one of them is attending Sukuna’s ball, helping name the next diamond of the season.

“I hate the King.”

“Treason!”

“Shh.” Satoru’s pouting as he walks into the ballroom, seeing Sukuna grinning from up above, big red throne while he’s watching the crowds below.

“I’m also no fan.” You admit, but luckily no Adelia. From what you’ve heard, she’s been sent back to France.

Even Sukuna couldn’t stand her.

Satoru’s eyes fixate then, on Nanami Kento, he tenses, despite not ever being angry at you, he can’t help but have a murderous instinct as he looks at the man that had you once. Well, he never really had you, but he did so many things. Satoru has been glad he’s not of social standing, surprised to see him here of all places.

You look at him in shock, as he has a pretty lady on his arm, and he whispers something to her, before calling you over. You look at Satoru with wide eyes, he nods just a bit, walking you over, you smile brightly as the lady is introduced, she is lovely and sweet, making eyes at Nanami.

“I’ve heard of you, your Grace.” You flush then, eyes lowering. “Only good things, I promise!”

“Then Mr. Nanami is too kind.” You murmur softly, Satoru sighs then, addressing the Lady.

“Care for a dance, my lady?” He asks, and she nods, smiling at Nanami now.

“Go right ahead, darling.” He murmurs, kissing her forehead so sweetly, it melts you then, as you feel it.

Nanami is in love.

As Satoru gives you time to speak, he gives you a little smile, eyeing your tummy now. “You’re with child?”

“No, too many cookies. Habit from you.” You tease, he rolls his hazel eyes then, shaking his head.

“Oh, cookies caused it?”

“Mmhmm!” You fall into an easy laughter, fiddling with your hands then, watching Satoru twirl her around the court. “She’s beautiful.”

“She is, isn’t she? And… she’s amazing.” He’s coughing a bit then, voice hoarse with emotion. “Should this be… harder to say to each other?”

“No, it’s not for me.” You smile sadly at him then, memories not of the intimacy, but special moments you both had, how sweet he’d been, it makes your heart swell. “To see you happy? Well…”

“Please, do not cry, Duchess.” He murmurs then, brushing a tear from your cheek in a sweet gesture, you blink back tears, touching your tummy.

“The baby she makes me so weepy.”

“You always cried a lot.”

“Excuse me!?”

You both laugh again, and he sighs, stance relaxing. “I wondered how you were, I’m so in love yes… yet I think of you at times, like a good friend long gone?”

You smile tremulously, feeling the exact same. You adore Satoru, you love him madly, but Nanami became important to you. “We were good friends. We were… foolish friends?”

He nods just a bit, flush on his high cheekbones. “Indeed. I am glad to see you so well and… glowing.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami. I wondered about you too.” You take his hand, smiling up at him, and he feels that little bit left of his feelings finally close up, knowing you’re okay, because Nanami always wondered if you would truly be okay.

Nanami loved you but now Nanami is in love.

“I know what you meant, that day. When you said you’re in love with him.” You take a breath, squeezing his hand and smiling, looking at Satoru as he steps around the floor so gracefully. “It’s different from what we had.”

“It is different. I felt so terrible for so long-”

“Please, do not. I think… I should have trusted you knew what you were speaking of. I fear I did not give you enough credit?” He blinks his own emotions, recalling the things he said, but you’re shaking your head.

You treasure his words, as your eyes lock with Satoru’s for a moment. “No, it’s all in the past now. I only hope the best for you both, truly. With all my heart.”

“And I you. I know you’re excited.” He grins warmly, watching as you look at your tummy, smiling sweetly.

“I couldn’t be more excited.”

“He is good to you?”

“He is. No more punches required.” He smiles again, your hand falling, exhaling with relief in knowing Nanami was okay, in fact he was thriving. “I have something I’d like to do for you.”

“You need not do anything.” He says, but you lean close.

“For your lovely lady. What if I… suggested something to the King?”

“Like?”

“Like… she’s shimmering, hmm?” Nanami blinks then, smiling as he looks at the love of his life, in a man’s arms he should hate, but he doesn’t. Maybe he never did, but he feels it, Duke Gojo is different. Better.

“She’d die if she got told that.” He admits softly.

“Then let me work my charm, even this round I can bat my eyelashes.” Nanami chuckles, shaking his head, running a hand through sandy locks.

“That charm could never fade, Duchess. Or… your Grace?”

“No, Duchess is fine. Alright Mr. Nanami, I’ve got this.” You wink and Satoru curiously watches you step up, until you’re right next to the King, who eyes you amusedly up and down. “Your Majesty.”

“Sukuna.” You smile just a bit as he stands, taking your hand and pressing a kiss on the back of it.

“Sukuna, how have you been?”

“Not as busy as you and Gojo apparently.” He muses, looking at your tummy, you laugh a little.

“Think it probably happened at your castle.”

“Scandalous, Duchess.” You roll your eyes, stepping closer. “You’re even sexier now, you know.”

“You’re even worse, you know.”

“You enjoy me, don’t worry I won’t tell your Duke.” You shake your head at him, as he tilts his head, ruby eyes glinting. “Out with it, what is it you want?”

“I’m so obvious?” He nods, smirking. “Well… this lovely lady… dancing with Satoru, I think she’s sparkling.”

“Fuck, the diamond bullshit. Yes, fine then, I did not want to do it.”

“Yay! Oh thank you.”

“Need a kiss on the cheek for it though.” You glare, jaw setting, as he taps a rugged cheek. “C’mon, one.”

“You’re insufferable, Sukuna.” You peck a kiss on his cheek, dodging when he turns, wiggling your brows. “Cheek only.”

“God he’s a lucky bastard. You’re so-”

“Shush it, now.”

“Oh fine. I’ll announce it, go on now, breaking my heart.”

“Oh whatever.” You curtsy at his fake pouting, light hearted when you’re back in your husband’s arms.

“I had to watch you with the two men who wanted you so badly, ugh. Why did Sukuna bother me more?” He grumbles, you giggle then.

“Aw, does everyone want your wife?”

“They do, it’s my ultimate payback.” He tilts your chin up then. “Just what were you up to?”

“Doing something sweet for Mr. Nanami’s lady. Thank you for giving us time, you did not have to.” You whisper, as he brushes a kiss over your cheek, a hand coming to rest where your baby decides to kick.

“I trust you, and I know you need to. But Sukuna, no.” You’re giggling as he pulls you closer, looking down into your slightly rounding face, your brilliant glittering eyes under chandeliers. “You’re prettier while pregnant, he’s going to try again.”

“He’ll not try a thing, you jealous man.”

“I am, very.” He leans close, lips against your ear. “Don’t think I won’t fuck your pretty mind out just because you’re so far along.”

“Satoru!” You’re heating up, as his palm presses against your back, tracing little circles along it. “Shh, look!”

Soon the king is begrudgingly announcing the diamond, and you get to watch her so excited, and Nanami grinning at her. Satoru watches you, however, face a little tight, wincing in pain. “What is wrong?”

“She’s just kicking me to death.”

“You always say she.”

“I can just tell.”

“A witch, hmm?”

“Mmhmm. I… oh…” Suddenly your eyes widen, and you feel it, panicking. “Oh dear…”

“Oh dear what!?” He demands, then looks down. “You’re having the baby, aren’t you!?”

“Bloody inconvenient timing, little one.” You whisper, and both of your eyes lock. “I’ll keep it in till we-”

“You can’t keep it in, stubborn brat!? Shit… he does have the best doctors…”

You were going to have a baby.

Satoru’s baby.

At the King’s ball.

“Well… Shit…” Satoru grumbles, before making the announcement, far too loudly, and soon every eye of the ton was on the former diamond.

You.

FINAL CHAPTER

[navydoves]

I know we aren’t supposed to be doing this, but…

✎ᝰ summary: you’ve fallen for the enigma prince xavier and the enigma prince xavier has fallen for you. there are certain rules and expectations put into place for royals like you two, but rules are uptight and both of you want to overstep those invisible boundaries to get closer to each other.

✎ᝰ cw: first time/virginity loss for both, lowkey yearning/pining, fluff/smut, xavier is needy, xavier is a lover boy, slow burn, sensual, royals getting friskaayyy, lots of praise, no Y/N ✎ᝰ wc: 12.6k

✎ᝰ a/n: xavier is my main so i’m trying to do him justice here with my ass writing skills. a lot of the dialogue is very conversational, you'll see what i mean. also not proof read very well so pls excuse mistakes, i’ll make changes as i find them 😢

castles were dreary. people gawked at the tall spires of his home, pointing and taking pictures to preserve the moment they were graced by the presence of the philos royal family. it was laughable sometimes, how commoners and civilians revered the crown without knowing how suffocating it actually was.

yet, to xavier, he saw it as nothing more than his life duty, his reason of birth, the sole reason of his existence, it was to be suffocated. but he made do.

soldiers trained from puberty had no other direction in life than to fight and bleed, and they made do.

forgers took years to mine and quarry within deep caverns, battling off beast eating men only to go back home and scrape their fingertips off just to make weapons. no blacksmith ever complained, they made do.

even those born modestly within domestic walls and loving families sometimes succumbed to the tragedy off illness or crime but had no other choice but to make do. so xavier, born with a diamond spoon in his mouth while covered in scarfs of stain, the only heir to the philos throne, had to make do too. his life was built with the promise that he would gain great power and true nobility once his time came, and until then, the world had to wait on him hand and foot to assure that in every singular way possible, he was ready to rule. just because it was suffocating meant nothing, not when you had such security in your life. he built this mature mindset from young age, and he was often praised for his ability to suck things up and deal with it. it was an unspoken rule of being a royal. you deal, you accept, you fight, you rule, simple.

this frustrating way of living was what he had to deal with every single day of pompous life. the rest of his existence felt mundane and scripted, bound with endless vexation until he perished. and to think that would be hundreds upon hundreds of upon hundreds of years from now. but, if he never breathed in the first place, how could he become suffocated? this wasn't torture, it was normal. yet, despite it all, he started feeling differently. no revelation woke him up in the middle of the night to tell him the truth of his destiny and no mage showed up at his door to guide him on a mystical journey to find the contentment he never knew. no, it was much simpler than that; it took something much simpler to make him feel differently.

a face... a voice, a person all together. a new addition in his life that broken his monochromatic mindset and added a bit of vibrancy. people often say that someone brightened up their life when meeting someone special, but the blinding xavier could say that someone for once dimmed his vision so he could see properly. all he saw was light at the top of his tower, but slowly, his vision became less distorted as he became more grounded. your face, your voice, was what was grounding him.

from the day you met at an impromptu gala, hosted by xavier's parents to encourage liveliness in the city after prolonged battle, to you and him finally holding each other's hands away from prying eyes, he felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. nothing about his future or obligations changed, so it almost shocked him how easily dread left him whenever he was with you. you must be that powerful, he thought.

a familiar fluttering sensation of his heart was present every time he thought of you, and that feeling was only amplified whenever he got the chance to see you in person. letters served terrible in capturing your true eccentricity and wonder but that's all he had to live on when he could think of no excuse to invite you over. you lived several kingdoms away and the time it took to prepare travel to and fro felt unnecessary and unfair to the both of you when you had busy schedules. on top of that, neither of you wanted to let your hovering parents know that you had actually taken a liking to another royal. the drama, gossip, and rumors it could cause your families would potentially break you two apart and that was the last thing either of you wanted.

but today was xavier's lucky day, as well as yours. a few families from more isolated areas were invited to spend the next few days with the philos royal family as a way to discuss trade routes through their kingdoms. thankfully, your family was one of the few invited for the part of the week. so rather, it was xavier's lucky day for the next several days. when the news broke to him it took everything in his power to not grin widely at his parents. he was usually a stoic to them so breaking that face would cause for interest he didn't want.

behind closed doors, however, he spent his time meticulously planning out an outfit for each day you would spend in his castle. he knew your favourite colours, and whether they complimented the rich purple that was his family's colour or not, he would make it work. this was him making do, in a sense. today he wore his signature regal purple suit with blue accents, the fabric, woven from the finest silk and velvet. his tailored doublet was also rich in color and clung to his form, adorned with intricate gold stitching. he wore a low collar trimmed in blue velvet which matched the same shade of blue on his leather belt, tightened around with a gold buckle embossed with his family crest. the pants were similar in style and embraced the same regal purple, with gold stitching that went down to his noir, shiny shoes. xavier never felt the need to impress anyone until you. people were already impressed with just his presence alone, but he wanted to impress you in a way that made your eyes only look in his direction, only see him.

he fixes the collar of undershirt one last time before deciding he looked presentable enough for you. his heart had that familiar erratic rhythm that always reminded him how you've changed him, and he couldn't adore it more. with a small amount of anxiety in his stomach, he steps out his dressing room to greet the servants who patiently waited from him out in the hall. he had to shoo them away to mend himself for once.

xavier gives them a polite smile as they begin to lead him down the wing of the castle and into a neighboring wing where most social activities were held. he could already hear the gentle murmurs and small bouts of laughter that came from the several families that was gathered with his own. the flutter in his heart and the anxiety in his stomach only grew stronger as he neared the adjacent door of the ballroom and then flared when he caught a glimpse of you by your family. your family's colour was blue, there was a reason his suit had these accents today. xavier steps in and is immediately greeted by several nobles who did nothing but be pretentious in their greetings. it was second nature to humor them and mingle for a bit, but today he was less patient, more determined. he wriggled around a few families, throwing in a few shallow bows and smiles before he got up to your mother, a short woman with much indignation running through her veins. xavier gave her a much more polite, venerated greeting than anyone else that day, but it was only to find his way to you, the girl a few feet away and chatting with a king from some western kingdom. when your eyes catch his presence for a moment a tingle erupts in your stomach. god, how you waited for him. you excuse yourself from the conversation with the king and turn to xavier, fully, a shy smile growing on your lips while you bow to him. "prince xavier, i was waiting for you," you chirp.

xavier only stares for a few moments, his eyes tracing over your form and the beautiful modest blue dress you were wearing. he smiles tenderly. "drop the formalities princess," he hums, "it's just you and i here." you chuckle softly and shake your head.

"well, actually, there are several others here." "to me... it's just you and i." you blush and sigh. you always knew xavier to be a bit of a flirt but lately, both in letters and in person, he's been upping the ante and testing the waters between the two of you. you found it exhilarating. he gently reaches out and lazily caresses the side of your hand with his finger before quickly pulling back. it was the most he could do at the moment without being too obvious. "i told you to just call me xavier, nothing more." "i know... but if someone overhears our informality then... you know we can't do that with our families near." "i want to hear you call me my name, though." "later." "when is later?" "why are you so stubborn?" "because you deal with it and because you like it." you felt your mouth go still into silence at his words. both statements were true. you dealt with his stubbornness, and you also liked dealing with it. it was quite the opposite from the courteous personality xavier had with everyone else, so you almost reveled in his juvenile antics. he smirked slightly and leaned in carefully while focusing his eyes on yours. "i guess i'm right."

you turn your head to the side and away from his. his teasing proximity made a gentle heat rise up into your cheeks and the sight of your flustered state made xavier flustered himself. he pulls back and clears his throat before averting his gaze awkwardly. he wasn't sure what to say when his heart felt like it would come out of his throat, but thankfully you spoke instead. "i believe my mother and i are staying in the east wing of your castle for the week. despite my visits, i haven't seen those rooms until now." you remark while turning your gaze back to xavier. he notices your attention on him again and reciprocates. "those rooms are usually reserved for when we have guests sleeping over. since you've never actually had a visit longer than a few hours... you've just never seen those areas." you nod in acknowledgement and smile. "do you think... we'll be busy for the week?" you ask softly. xavier eyes take a hard blink at you, as if you said something incredulous, and he takes a moment to respond. "what do you mean?" "like... with the meeting on trade routes and such. since our parents do most negotiations and commerce, you think we'll be just as busy?" oh, that's what you meant, he thought. xavier rubs his lips together and considers your words in his head. his parents don't usually force him into meetings that weren't absolutely necessary. they had a good sense of trust that whatever xavier needed to do would be done-and they were usually right. although, xavier had a rather strange feeling that that trust would be more-less betrayed this week, given the beautiful distraction before him. "i hope not. i wasn't the one who called for this gathering so i'd like to play as little part in it as possible. i'd rather spend my time with you." "what if i'm always in meetings and i play a big part in the gathering?" xavier's lips twitch into a small smile. "then i guess im right there with you."

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feasts were one very good way of welcoming people into your home, and royals knew that best. the kitchen had had already prepared a lion's den worth of meals for the day, and only that day. only the stars above knew how much time and effort they put into making fresh cuisines and delicacies for a royal's sensitive palate. they made do. xavier watched as several servants rushed out from the halls with trays of food balanced in their palms, ready to arrange them onto the oakwood tables in the dining room. he and his parents were the first to arrive to the dinner ceremony to ensure everything was up to par for a social gathering before the next few days of work. the scent of various steaming dishes filled the air of the room, which made for an invitation to anyone who walked by.

smoked salmon, vegetable terrine, roasted lamb, truffles, brie, even sparkling champagne that was harder to come by nowadays due to import issues was served. many different meals were laid out onto the three lengthy tables within the dining room, a true refined look and very warm welcome to the multiple guests. xavier's parents already took their seats at the end of two of the three tables, and xavier's seat was already designated to be at the end of the third table. but instead of sitting already, like his parents, he stood idle as he waited for the families to start rolling in for dinner, he wanted to ensure that you would sit next to him. he feigned fixing his clothes for the sake of not getting a small scolding, but that bluff didn't have to lost for long as nobles started pouring in.

chatter and distraction were already beginning but xavier had his eyes set on finding you, finding your gentle blue beauty in the midst of all the colours piling up at the door. and when his eyes finally laid on yours from across the room, he smiles. the time separated from you these past few hours since your mingling in the ballroom felt like an ache to him and just like magic, it was gone now.

and despite the various empty chairs before you, when you caught eyes with him, you automatically knew to where to sit. in poise, you walk around the other two tables with your hands delicately to your front. you knew xavier was practically staring at you but you couldn't hold such prolonged eye contact like he could sometimes. "evening," he whispers once your form was right next to his. he takes the sides of the chair next to his throne and pulls it out for you before gesturing you to sit. "this is your spot, don't leave for your mother." the straightforwardness of xavier's words already make you flush for a little bit and you could see the sudden apologetic look in his eyes. "sorry, i didn't mean that rudely. i just... would like you to be near." you laugh softly and squint your eyes at him rather affectionately. without hesitation, you took a seat in the chair he pulled out for you and then look up at him. your quietly adoring eyes made xavier feel a little weak, and it was only then he decided to sit. "no worries, i take no offense. besides, i see my mother too often and you not as often enough. i'll take advantage of the time we have together."

you look at the array of dishes splayed out in front of you on the table and suddenly feel a bout of hunger within your stomach. traveling and socializing was no easy feat and took more out of you than you would like to admit. xavier noticed the way you eyed the aromatic food before you, but he could barely manage to speak any words due to the thumping of his heart. you were so beautiful in every right. you were so colorful to him. so warm. you dimmed everything before him and forced him to only focus on you. you shifted your gaze back at xavier and immediately felt the aura of his gaze. it made you shiver but you returned it in equal. something about this prince was so enigmatic but so revelatory. with each visit you could feel yourself becoming closer and closer with him, and you wondered where the two of you were at now. "prince xavier,"

"xavier," he corrected. you purse your lips.

"prince... xavier, which one of these is your favourite dish? i feel famished if im going to be honest. i want to try your recommendations." he frowns, but points to a pot. "braised chicken. it's the hottest meal we have but the most satiating. there are spices you can try alongside if you're like me and the broth doesn't do you much good." you look toward the pot furrow your brows while refraining from a laugh. "so... it's the hottest meal you have, and you want me to try it with spices? are you trying you to get me to sweat?" you already are princess. he thinks. you and i have been both sweating since earlier. "no, i have no nefarious intentions, but you asked me for recommendations and i gave them to you. y'know, if anything, you might be the true stubborn one between us."

you let out an amused sigh and nod.

"alright, braised chicken with spices then."

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once everyone chose a respective seat at a respective table, dinner service finally, actually began. royals weren't ones to "dig in", it was rather impolite, so they served themselves cordially and with composure, always putting the need of their elbow partner before them. you didn't need to worry about that, though, since xavier insisted on serving you himself. every cut of meat and slather of spices was done by him in his own way. small delicacies and even refills on your drinks was taken care of by his quick, knowing hands. you couldn't tell if he was trying to impress you or take care of you or both, but there were no complaints on your part. "so... you're sure it's not that spicy?" you ask while peering down at your small bowl of braised chicken with ignited broth done by the spices xavier generously added for you. "to me it's not, i enjoy the burn." "that's really not helping. i don't want to make a fool of myself if my throat gets itchy or my eyes start watering." xavier smirks at you and lets out air through his nose. why do you feel the need to care what other people think right now? you were with him, he had your full attention, and you had his. "i can help, then," he murmurs while taking your spoon and scooping up a small serving of chicken from your bowl. this would be regarded as improper and invasive from any noble, but lucky him, all of them were too engrossed in dinner. he blew on the spoon gently before moving it toward your face, down to your lips. "eat, it's good i promise." you blinked at him for a moment before nodding shyly and leaning in to take a bite. xavier domesticity almost made you forget the heat and spice of the food you were being served, but the flavors on your mouth brought you back. it did burn a bit, yes, but it wasn't as bad as you expected it to be. xavier watched your eyes light up in delight as a morsel of food finally made its way into your body. he propped his chin up on his palm and smiled with low-lidded eyes. god, he loved taking care of you. "taste good?" he asked softly. you nod quickly and pat your lips dry with a napkin.

"very good, the spices really do do a good job enhancing the flavor. wow..." you take xavier's wrist gently with your fingers and move it back down to your bowl. you smile and tilt your head with a silent question. "but... does it taste better when you feed me?" stars above, help me. "i'll do this all night if i have to. as long as you leave this room no longer so hungry."

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pink and yellow, those were the colours he chose to wear for the second day of your visit. today his suit was one of silk and brocade, clipped to midway of his waist and fitted nicely against his toned form. the blazer itself was a soft blush colour with gold embroidery swirling in vines and delicate florals at the ends of his sleeves. his undershirt was a pale yellow with a relaxed high collar that gave him a refined, easy look. his back-pockets of his pants matched the theme humble florist with their own flowery design on them. the actual pants, though, pants were plain in light pink and had a bit wider cut today. a simple gold chain hangs from his belt loop and connects to the back, making for an eye-catching accessory. the vibe here was delicate and approachable, easygoing but elegant. he brushed down the sides of his blazer in the mirror and nodded once done scrutinizing himself. the thing about xavier was, he would spend all this time refining and polishing himself for you through his clothes but would never touch his face. he liked going bare and natural without any type of hairstyle or skin up-keep. he wanted you enjoy him in his natural state, and clothes didn't really fall into that category. unlike his handsomeness, clothes could always be altered, tailored, or discarded entirely. once satisfied, xavier turns to face the door of his empty dressing room and walks out with an air of confidence. in routine, he greets the servants out in the hall and walks with them to one of the ballrooms in the same neighboring wing he was in yesterday. the families had been split into different rooms for different topics of discussion, and he had no way of knowing if you were in the ballroom he was designated in. he could only hope.

the clamor of yesterday and the hushed conversation of today was starkly different between the families. supper was filling, and everyone quickly retired once their rest and digest reflexes kicked in. walking you back to your room discreetly felt a little magical because it was just you two, and unfortunately, the furthest xavier could go was just right outside your guest room.

even in the dim light of the evening, your gentle blue beauty and inviting silhouette still managed to tug at his heartstrings. why did he have to leave?

yet, despite his hopefulness, he couldn’t appreciate you even from afar due to your absence in his designated ballroom. the excitement bubbling in his chest quickly deflated and all that was left was a disappointed, bitter feeling. it would be unseemly to leave now, now that a few nobles within the room already noticed him began their greetings with philos's perfect prince. despite the gentle, amicable facade xavier flipped on for face sake, and despite his warm, hospitable voice, his tight smile and ridged walk gave away every bit of annoyance he felt in the moment. he took his appointed seat in the room, the white and blue throne with a golden star balanced atop of it, and barely spared a glance toward the faces in the room.

how long was he supposed to be in here, forced to socialize and talk about commerce that, frankly, he didn’t give a fuck about. “making do” was his entire existence, sucking it all up was what he was made for, but this, you, was something he could not afford to just… brush aside for the sake of it. you’re not as shallow as his royal duties, why would he ever think of sucking this up?

his thoughts almost made him stand and excuse himself to the hall but it was your sudden appearance into the ballroom that halted him from doing so. he watched you politely enter and hold quick eye contact with him before turning your attention to the other families around you. you didn’t want to make it obvious exactly why you were here alone, without your mother.

xavier’s heart thumped erratically in his ears. all sense of distress and hostility vanished from his person and all that was left was within his chest was a deep, abiding sense of fondness. he could read your intentions so clearly right now and it reassured him that you wanted him, coveted him, with the same need he had. he relaxed in his seat and watched you take your own seat across from him. the table was wide and you were far from an arm's length away from him, but he wasn't gonna complain right now. not when you clearly went out of your way to see him.

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"you were staring at me the entire time. i've come to learn you're not a discreet person, your highness." "you were the one who decided to sit directly in my field of vision, princess. why blame me when it was clearly you trying to distract me?" "i go out of my way to convince my mother to let me visit another ballroom and im met with scoldings and accusations for it. you're quite insufferable." xavier lets out a small, low chuckle at your words. he loved bantering with you like a kid, it brought him satisfaction to see how informal the two of you could get. "let's take this outside then, princess." "... you want to fight?" he did not, in-fact, want to fight. instead, you found yourself following xavier to a small, outdoor garden alcove at on the bottom floor of the castle. the roof and walls were decorated in stained glass that spilled lines of rainbows down onto the beautiful gard of forget-me-nots—your favourite flower. you gasp softly and scurry over to a batch to catch a whiff of the new blossoms. no garden you've ever seen seeded only one type of flower or crop; it was always an arrangement of various buds for both aesthetic reasons and the health of the flora. you stand straight and turn your head over to xavier with a delicate and doting look on your face.

"did you... do this for me?" xavier's tucks his chin in and looks down, he smiles to himself with shyness blossoming within his chest. he strides over to where you stood and plucked a singular forget-me-not from the row, his fingers rolling the thin stem of the flower before placing it behind your ear, nestled within the strands of your hair. "to see you smile like that, yes." xavier responds quietly as if someone else threatened to listen to his endearing words. he cups your cheek with his hand and strokes the skin there with his thumb. xavier usually wasn't this bold, but the privacy of the alcove and the growing butterflies between you two made him throw caution to the window and indulge himself in your radiance. you felt bashful, your warm neck and ears and dilated pupils gave that away, but you refused to lean aside. this was everything you wanted, and nothing could peel you away from the admiring gaze of xavier. you turn your head to the side slightly and press a very gentle kiss to the curve of his palm. the tender action caused xavier's eyes to widen search yours eagerly. this was the first kiss you've given him, and it didn't matter to him if it was quick or on his palm, you kissed him. xavier retracts his hand from your face and looks down at the skin there like you just turned it into gold. he brings his hand up to his lips and kisses the spot you just pecked while keeping his intense, devoted gaze onto you. "prince xavier..." you whisper, not sure what to even follow up with. "it's xavier, princess." xavier reaches out again and strokes your hair delicately, a smile plays on his lips. "and yes? are you surprised with how much i want you? you shouldn't be. if only i could truly show you how you meant to me..." you furrow your brows and glance down to the garden floor. you didn't want to ever assume what xavier meant because he was always too cryptic and opaque, but with each passing gesture of his, you couldn't help but feel the electricity that radiated off of him. you wondered if he could feel the heat coming off of you as well. "we're already pushing the limits of our companionship, your highness. even that... peck, it would've gotten me scandalized by the ton." "and yet, here you are, standing and un-scandalized." your worries rolled off of xavier's back like water. he couldn't care less about what scandals the two of you encountered, he only had to save face for his family. but for himself? it was starting to feel like being your companion came before being a prince.

he continues to trace the outlines of your face with his eyes before his gaze landed on your lips. what he would give to just press them against his and let you feel for yourself how anguished he was for you. but you would be against it, he knew, because you still worried about the implications of it all. you couldn't be as untroubled as xavier was, but yet, you knew you wanted the same thing he did. so when his index finger trails down your cheek and to your jaw, down your neck and over your collarbones, off to the side and then down to your hip, you didn't stop him. you shudder softly and wet your lips. "i didn't tell you earlier, but you look beautiful today," xavier murmurs while glancing down to your lips again. you choke up at how smooth his voice was. he was too fucking good at swooning you. "thank you. you look nice today as well. pink compliments you really well." xavier smiles widely at your praise. finally, you noticed the effort he put into looking good for you, but he wasn't satisfied yet. "so what, my face is hideous?" "i...i never said that!" you exclaim. he laughs. "then say otherwise." "huh?" "tell me i'm handsome, tell me how good i look princess." you stare blankly at xavier for a few moments and furrow your brows. you simultaneously wanted to indulge him but also be defiant in such a cheeky request, although he wasn't gonna let that happen. seeing the incredulity on your face, xavier squeezes your hip with a firm hand and smiles. "say it princess, ~ " he sings. you blush immensely. "you're very handsome, your highness." that's my girl.

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today he wore a fine wool and silk suit with a deep grey fitted jacket and black loose pants. the cuffs of his sleeves were also black, as well as the buttons, his shoes, and the undershirt he wore. a small red rose as nestled into the pocket of his suit, and on the outside of the pocket was a white embroidered design of his family's crest. this might've been his most cohesive outfit yet, with his shiny silver hair and all to compliment it.

unfortunately, the time spent between you two was few far and between. you had your moments of conversation and indulgence, but duty often called you away from each other and into councils neither of you cared for. the dinners, where you now only ate braised chicken with spices, and the strolls, where you both hid out in the gardens, became your daily routines and the highlight of your days.

still though, there was more to be had. you had to do everything in slight secrecy to fend off suspicion from others, but when alone, you could feel the tension simmering between the two of you. xavier especially, a man who was thought so much restraint in his life, found himself being tested time and time again. even just a little kiss, a little something could satiate him, but with nobles running around at all times... was the risk worth it? after the morning meal where your mother forced you to socialize with families she made friends with over the last few days, you left the dining room and headed off to your designated ballroom. there were treaties being drafted between certain merchants with ruling families, and the ratification process was just beginning. there only had to be one signature from each family to qualify, and for the sake of it, you would write down your family name instead of having your mother write it. but once that was done? you were home free for the day. this wasn't your kingdom, castle, and these duties weren't necessarily yours to fulfill. in fact, most "families" here simply comprised of the king and queen of that family showing up as representation for their entire kingdom. meaning, in a sense, you weren't needed as much as your mother was. once you managed to get inside the ballroom, your next objective was getting out of their as fast as possible. a little wiggle here, a small bow there, and stroke of a pen was all it took to satisfy everyone and yourself. you excused yourself from the table and readied yourself to leave the suffocating ballroom you've been trapped in for the last few days. as you reach the grand doors, though, your favourite silver-haired, dashing prince walks in with a smile. he sees you and halts, his hand coming up as a gesture asking you to stop as well. "where are you headed?" xavier asks with a slightly concerned look on his face. "i'm done with my part for the day, my mother is handling the rest." you reply, both happy you didn't have to work and resigned that you couldn't gawk at him. xavier furrows his brows and frowns. "where will you go then?" he murmurs.

"to my room, most likely, or maybe i'll take a stroll around the castle and ask the kitchen for early dessert," you tease, "why? you'll miss me?"

"yes." you're taken aback by the quickness and conviction in xavier's voice. you've never heard him speak so... assuredly of something. he steps forward and cups your face similarly to how he did the day before, except this time you retract. there were many eyes around and as much as it hurt you to dismiss him like this, you wanted to preserve what you had. xavier's hand fell slowly as the rejection settled into his chest. he felt hurt, almost a little burned that you would do that so outwardly. "princess-" "there are people around. please, i... i want to protect you and i, okay? don't take it to heart, i... i need you too." his eyes soften but he nods gently. he glances up at the others packed into the room and let out an exhausted sigh. he hated this, he hated the crown right now, everything about his regal and royal life prevented him from you and it frustrated him to no end. he can't make do with this like he's been taught, he just... can't. the irritation welling up in his chest quelled once he glanced back down and saw your reassuring look. it was like every time he felt any sort of resentment, any sour and ugly feeling, you would cure his ailment with just a smile. "please wait for me, princess. i'll be done here as soon as possible." you nod curtly. i'll wait forever. ----------------------------------------------

and wait you did. you headed back into your guest room and decided to wind down with a warm shower and a redress. the fluffy yellow dress you wore only had a few hours in the spotlight today as you stepped into the silky fabric of your loungewear dress. the midnight blue of the slip fit comfortably and hugged just enough to secure. there were thin, adjustable straps on your shoulders that lead to a subtle V-neckline with a delicate lace trim. the fabric is smooth and lightweight, which is just what you liked when you had these rare moments of doing nothing all day. the slip dress itself went down to about mid-thigh, but the black robe you wrapped on top of it went down to just below your knees for modesty. the combination of your warm shower, breakfast still in your stomach, and the loungewear conditioned your brain into exhaustion. the soft-felt was right there and you couldn't help but climb atop of it and take a rest. a rest that would last several hours. when you stirred away and checked the time on the clock on the nightstand you almost jumped out of your skin. it was a quarter past ten (10:15) and you had slept the whole day away. your first thought was immediately about xavier. had you made him wait? was he looking for you? maybe he walked in on you sleeping and decided to let you rest? you felt an immense amount of guilt and regret hit your chest and you fly off the bed. screw it this, screw it all, you thought while putting on your slippers. all these meetings and treaties and debates and councils and everything had tired you down to the point of hibernation, and it directly caused you to neglect the limited you had with xavier. you rush to the door of your room and open it to peek out into the hall. the lights on the ceilings were dimmed which was the castle's indication that activity was dying down and the royal family was already retired. you let out a defeated sigh. how could you be so negligent? he asked you to wait for him and you didn't. you didn't wait for him, and over a pathetic reason too. before you could wallow in self-pity, your stomach made its own thoughts clear. you hadn't eaten since morning. your body felt a bit weak from the lack of food and you knew you couldn't go back to sleep like this. not with this amount of guilt weighing you down anyway. you sigh and step out your room and walk down the hall to try and find a servant or maid to help you out in you scavenge. your feet were slow and dragged out behind you but you soon near one of the kitchens within the wing you were in. before you could step in, a shiver runs up your back and immediately you sensed someone's prescene. "princess!" xavier's voice yelped from not far behind. he scurried down the ballroom he came out of and toward your direction with a hurting look on his face. you follow the same and rushed toward him with guilt plastered on yours. "im so sorry!" "im sorry!" you both yelp out an apology. you take a step back and knit your eyebrows together. "w...what are you apologizing for?" you asked. "i left you, im sorry. i told you i'd come to see you soon but my parents wanted to me stay with the families until all the treaties were signed. it took, all. damn. day. im so sorry." your mouth was a little agape upon hearing his words. the confused look was then reciprocated by xavier. "wait, why are you apologizing for?" "i... i told you i'd wait for you, but i ended up sleeping all day after i left the ballroom. i thought that maybe you didn't want to disturb me and left. i... felt so guilty." the both of you look at each other in astonishment for a few long moments. xavier was the first to crack with a soft laugh that progressed into a hearty one. you continued to stare up at him, evaluating the absurdity of the situation you two created for yourself. "so... we just... both lived today feeling guilty?"

xavier stops laughing for a moment and smiles adoringly at you. his eyes shone down at you with an almost childish glee. your unmoving expression only added to his amusement. you were everything his heart needed.

"that's how i know you're meant for me."

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this was your third bowl of braised chicken with spices tonight. finding you in the hall at that precise moment was serendipitous for the both of you. not only for the matter of clearing the air and expelling guilt, but also for the fact that xavier could request the leftovers of meals from supper. he brought you back to your room and finally fully stepped inside with you. with his parents asleep, the visiting families in their rooms, and staff also retired, it was just you two.

xavier did more than just step in, actually, he made himself comfortable. you were sat on the edge of your bed eating and he pulled up a chair beside you, not wanting to invade the intimate space of your bed. he watched you eat with tender eyes as you explained your side of the story for the day, and you did the same as he complained about the exhaustion that overcame him in the ballrooms.

"i still am sorry, my prince," you frown while putting down the bowl on the bedside table, "i broke our promise unknowingly, regardless." xavier smiles warmly shakes his head.

"so did i," he hums, "i wanted to see you within the hour you left but well… here we are. we're both a little guilty, yeah?" you laugh softly and shake your head. "no need to apologize then princess, we're even."

your body tilted down toward his and his body leaned up toward yours, a shared warmth flourished between you two at that moment. the room was quiet and bathed in the cool glow of the moon filtering through the sheer curtains. neither of you turned on the lights when you first walked in because this dim atmosphere was so comforting.

xavier reaches up and strokes your cheek softly with the back of his fingers. he adored your bare face, so youthful and soft to the touch without any product on it. you nuzzle into his touch and giggle softly. he rises from his chair, now towering over you while you were still sitting, and he moves to stand in-between your legs. you lean back slightly to invite him in, and he takes that invitation. his other hand moves to your back and pushes you closer to his form so that your chest was pressed against his abdomen. you felt your heart quicken at the intimacy of every move.

"prince-"

"xavier," he corrects, "i've told you to call me xavier repeatedly for the last few days and you haven't once. it's just us now, no one here to scare you from indulging me, princess. it's xavier."

"… xavier," you whisper out in a breathless voice.

"say it again," he murmurs while sliding his hand down to the small of your back and pushing you closer.

"xavier," you repeat.

"again." he takes his other hand out from your hait and places it underneath your thigh.

"xavier."

"one more time." he pushed your leg up and tucks in your back to make you fall onto the bed behind you. his hand moves up and down your thigh slowly while his other one, now off your back, cups your waist.

"ah… xavier."

he grins widely and leans his head down to nuzzle into your neck. while his outside demeanor may seem composed or even confident, internally he was a wreck. what was he doing right now and why did it feel so good? he felt so nervous that maybe he was pushing the boundaries between you two, but you neither fought back nor complained.

he peppered a few kisses in the crevice of your neck and then moved them down to your collarbones. you brought your hands up slowly to his head of hair and threaded your fingers into his locs. you felt a rush of something new, something you hadn't felt before, come over you. you glance down at xavier and see him already peering up at you.

"are you okay?" he asks tentatively, a nervous tinge in his voice.

"yeah, i'm alright. just…" you hesitate. you knew you two shouldn't be doing this, you knew it was a major violation of royal court rules. un-betrothed, un-courted royals were not allowed to be intimate by any means. if a royal wanted to become intimate in any way, the fastest way was to have an arranged marriage with a willing partner. but none of those circumstances applied to the two of you, which was incredibly scandalous. "… just continue." but you didn't care.

xavier almost lost his mind right there. he almost couldn't believe what you just said but the fond look on your face reassured him that he wasn't going insane.

oh god. oh… god.

xavier moves his hand from your waist to your abdomen where the tie to your robe was knotted at. he looks up to you for permission before slowly undoing it. the tension in the air was thick as both of you wondered just how far this was about to go. the robe fell to your sides and revealed the midnight coloured silk loungewear that you still had on.

xavier's pupils dilate as he takes in the beauty of your form. shocks of arousal went through his body, all pooling in a rather indecent place. he carefully takes the robe off your arms and puts it aside to fully appreciate your figure.

"i can't even describe what i'm feeling right now, you look unbelievable."

xavier's words immediately make you breathless. you've been revered by countless amounts of people in your life but nothing compared to the veneration he was giving you right now. you pull him down closer and nudge your nose against his affectionately.

"xavier."

"yes, princess?

"can you kiss me?"

"yes, princess."

without hesitation he presses his lips against yours and groans into your mouth. you reciprocate with a whine as you both share you first kiss. not just your first kiss with each other, but the first kiss both of you've ever had. it felt better than you expected, probably because the man you were sharing this experience with was someone you adored.

instinctively, your body arches up against his and his body presses down against yours. every time one of either of you pulled back for a breath, the other leaned back in for more. the kiss was juvenile and inexperienced but also heated and needy. nothing else in the world mattered anymore.

and for the first time in a long, long while xavier felt his cock twitch in his pants and start growing into an erection. he had gotten erections when he was younger purely out of hormonal changes, but never out of arousal. despite his age, this was a first for him and it felt so good to need you like this. the heat pooling in between your legs was also a first for you. you could feel a deep throbbing within you that could only be relieved by squishing your thighs together to create friction.

you push xavier back and whine. you weren't sure what you needed more, him or air.

"you look so beautiful like this," xavier giggles, "look at you, so flushed and pretty." he moves his hands up and down your hips with the intent to feel the curves and fullness of your body. his cock was now full erect and painfully pressed up against his grey pants, making an obvious imprint there. you shudder under his touch and close your eyes to savor the warmth of his large hands over your body, slowly rocking your hips up for more. he watches you undulate and moans. there was something so unbelievably erotic about the way you silently begged for more from him with your body. he steadies your hips and smiles. "princess, can i..." he trails off, unsure of how to verbalize his need. instead, he gently lifts your pliant body and turns you to be on your hands and knees on the bed. before you could sputter out in embarrassment, he hugs your form from atop and presses his hips flush against yours, earning a small gasp from you. "xavier," you yelp, "you're...?" he smiles. "erect, yes. what else did you expect my princess? i'm so excited for you and i've never felt this was before." he pushes his hips against yours again but this time a little harder. you could feel the stiffness and heat of his cock grind into your backside. this level of brazenness was something xavier couldn't even explain himself - in fact he was a little afraid of it. he didn't know what he was doing, really, he just moved in a way that felt natural.

"t...that feels so good," you say as you arch your hips up for him like a cat in heat for the first time. your unintentional words of reassurance make xavier groan and encourage him to keep going. he presses against you over and over again until both of you are mewling messes for each other. you could feel your heart thump erratically both in your chest and in-between your legs where arousal built. "ngh... ah... feel good, princess? i want to - ah - make you feel everything you make me feel. i want to give - mngh - pleasure to you." "y...you already are. i have the same desire, - ngh - i want to make you feel good. but it's just... what if we get caught? what if - " "we won't," xavier hisses. "i don't want you to worry like this, not when you're with me. i should have your full attention, not anyone else." he wraps his arms around your waist and fully presses his front against your back. his lips come 'round and press little teasing kisses down your lobe and to your neck. "we don't have to do anything further, we can just stay like this, but please, just focus on me."

xavier's almost whiny voice causes the aching between your legs to throb harshly. you've never seen him be such a mess, but you also have never been such mess yourself. you lift your arm up and wrap it around xavier's head and pull his lips against yours. he takes this as encouragement and thumps his hips harder against you with newfound confidence. too caught up in the moment, you don't even notice his trailing hand that lands right on your navel. "may i...?" he mumbles against your lips. you nod. he slides his hand further down to your thigh and then back up underneath your nightdress. he feels the lace of your panties and almost implodes realizing that he was going to touch you there and you let him. his fingers tease around the edge of your underwear and occasionally slide in to feel your bare hips. every touch he makes causes his aching cock to pulsate in anger for the fact that it hasn't been stimulated yet, but he put you first before everything. your breath hitches once you feel his finger finally graze against your soaking mound. you both let out a groan. "so wet..." he mumbles. the pads of his middle and ring finger gently trace around your pussy lips and folds. he wanted to commit this feeling to memory, the first time he's ever touched you. pleasure you've never experienced before wells up in your body and slowly, you feel your mind going hazy with lust. the explicit books you've read don't compare to the actual feeling of being pleasured. you can't believe this is what you've missed out on. you grab xavier's other hand and move it to your chest over one of your breasts. you felt him squeeze the plushness there almost immediately. his lips find your neck again which add to the symphony of bliss you felt. he was servicing you in every section of your body and he loved it. he loved, loved taking care of you. "i know i'm not yours yet through the court, princess, but i'm yours in every way that matters. i want to service you, make you feel good, take care of you until i physically can't anymore." "w...who cares about the court? ngh - they keep me a...away from you. you have - mngf - my devotion." "then don't let another man hear these sweet sounds, princess. don't let another man touch you or love you the way i do. i want to be yours, wholeheartedly." "only i...if you promise not to let a...another woman be - ahh - with you like this, xavier." "i wouldn't dream of it." xavier stops his fondling for a moment to flip you onto your back. he climbs the bed and smiles down at you before immediately ditching the grey suit. he throws it aside haphazardly, not caring about its maintenance, and leans down to your body. his loving kisses pepper your face causing you to giggle softly. you push him back to playfully scold him but the lovey-dovey look on his face makes your words disappear. "i really can't believe i'm yours," he whispers while continuing his worshipful kisses. "my beautiful princess, you've got me so worked up the last few days i didn't know what to do." his hands move back to your wet center, determined to coax more of those sweet sounds out of you. "and you think i've been doing great?" you retort softly while griding yourself against xavier's fingers. "i've been denying myself such simple pleasures out of fear and now i can't hold back anymore." xavier's eyes soften.

"i don't want you to hold back anymore," he whispers, "i want you to take as much of me as you want until you're satisfied. i'll give you everything. even if it brings me to tears, i will give you everything." before you could respond xavier's fingers deftly hook into your panties and pull down. he does it slowly and looks up at you occasionally to make sure you're okay, to make sure he isn't being selfish. once completely off, he lifts up your nightdress to your hips and just... stares. you hear a small noise come out of him as he revers your most intimate part. his thumb strokes the pubic hairs on your pussy while occasionally bumping into your swollen clit, making you whimper. "d...don't stare!" you exclaim in sheer embarrassment.

"why not? i won't be able to see this again for a while." you sputter at his implication and boldness. but it was when his head moved down toward your folds with a clear intention that really left you breathless. "wait!" you pull his head back. "don't do that either!" he laughs softly at the apprehensive look on your face. "why not? people do it all the time. i want to know you in every sense of the word, including knowing your taste." "but that's... unsanitary...?" even you felt unsure in your words. you weren't dirty, you wore new, clean clothes all the time. you took care of your hygiene almost meticulously and you weren't bleeding. denying yourself this pleasure would be a disservice to your aching, ready body. but letting yourself indulge came with the risks of getting hooked. "just a little kiss and lick?" xavier pouts. he moves his head down again and hovers over your pussy with a needy look. he gave you plenty of time to move him away and reject his offer again but when you averted your gaze and lifted your hips up for him, he almost cheered. he presses his soft lips against your clit and laps at it like a puppy thirsty for water. a little kiss and lick weren't enough for him, and he believed it wasn't enough for you either. you deserved more; you deserved everything he had to give. in his mind, the girl who broke his shell and taught him what love was deserved his every breath. to him you tasted like your scent; warm vanilla mixed with a more fleshy, salty feminine musk. a determined man like him needed to ensure this, though. maybe you had hints of jasmine or amber in you, maybe there was more sweetness waiting for him at the end of his road. your hands find purchase in xavier's head of hair and despite your earlier protests, you push him further into your pussy. at this point, your folds were creamy and dripping from pure and utter excitement, which made for a great drink on xavier's part. he delves in deeper with an eager and untrained mouth, sucking and kissing your clit and circling his tongue (as best as the poor boy can) over your clenching entrance. you almost orgasmed right there but you pulled xavier back from in-between your legs to prevent it. "ha.... hah.... x..xavier! you said just a little ki...! i need to - hah - catch my breath." xavier's head was in a haze but he wore a big goofy smile on his glistening lips. "you taste so sweet, though. i wanted to be a good prince and finish my meal." xavier giggles at the astonishment present on your face. he was so teasing and provocative in a way you would've never guessed, and even if you did like it, you wouldn't admit it. but even if you were taken aback by every other word he said, his glossy lips made evidence to just how much he adored you. willing to dive headfirst for your pleasure and even still whining for more. your eyes trailed down to his aching erection and immediately you felt the need to reciprocate. what did xavier taste like? what did he feel like in your mouth? you wanted to know just as badly as xavier wanted to go back into your beating pussy. you reach out and trace your finger over the imprint of his cock through his pants. xavier shuddered and pushed his hips forward to entice you, a small smile on his face.

"like it? want to see it?"

you nod instead of verbally responding, too shy to voice your newfound desires. xavier felt anxious showing himself to you. he anxious about your judgement, which was a rarity given his position as a respected prince. he usually was the one inflicting judgement on others, not the one fearing it.

you prove to me every day how much you've changed me, princess. xavier unfastens the buckles of his belt and slides it out of its loop, then shakes off his pants to the side. he inches closer to you and hovers over your anticipatory self. he moves his hand to the tent of his boxers and rubs himself gently while letting his eyes roam over you. "can i take off the rest of your nightdress?" "can you take off your top and boxers?" xavier smirks at and nods. he unbuttons his undershirt and slides it off with ease, putting it aside with his other clothes, then looks down at his boxers. he moves even closer and leans his head against yours, nudging your cheek with his nose while touching himself. you could feel the anticipation simmering you two, electric and overwhelming. he reaches into his boxers and grabs his throbbing cock, slowly taking it out of its confinements. he groans once its fully out to scrutinizing your gaze, and you let out a whimper at just the sheer sight of him.

his cock stood tall and proud, arching into his abdomen while covering itself in streaks of pre-cum. he was swollen with need which made you eager to please him even more. tentatively, you reach your hand out and wrap your fingers around the base of his cock which makes xavier tilt his head back in pleasure. he groans as he feels your slow pumping and squeezes on him even though each movement was met with hesitation. while you continued your strokes, your head leaned in closer and closer in attempts to satisfy your curiosity. you let your hand fall for a moment and prepare to take his length into your mouth when xavier quickly pins you back onto the bed upon sensing your intention. your eyes widen in surprise and fear, wondering if you did something. "w...what?!" you squeal. "i don't... i don't want you to do that. i... i want to be the one servicing. i don't want you to do something like that for me." "i...want to make you feel good, though"

xavier smiles tenderly at you.

"you already make me feel good, but i know what you mean. just for today, i don't want you to do it, okay?" "but i want to taste you."

xavier smiles tenderly at you. he moves his hand down to his aching cock and slides his index and middle finger down his creamy shaft and then brings it up to your lips. "taste, then." you felt a shock of arousal hit your body at xavier's eroticism that you could hardly believe he was an inexperienced celibate like you. happily, though, you lean forward and take his fingers into your mouth and moan upon tasting the salty sweetness of his desire. he watches you suck eagerly and move as if you were pleasuring his cock, bobbing your head up and down and enveloping your tongue around his fingers. the sight was too much to bear for him and he lunges forward into a heady kiss. his fingers slide from your mouth as the two of your whine and whimper into against each other's lips. he wastes no time peeling off your nightdress from your undulating form, starting with undoing the strings on your back and pulling it over your head. he finally pulls back from the kiss and stares down at your bare form underneath him. his eyes go from your soft, plush breasts down to your tummy and of course your wet core. "my pretty girl," he murmurs, "beautiful doesn't even describe you. what am i gonna do with you?" "touch me." "with pleasure." he moves his head down to your collarbones and starts a line of kisses down in-between the valley of your breasts. he cups both of them with each hand and rolls his thumbs over your nipples to coax them into peaks. he watches you fondly as your expression contorts in pleasure from his ministrations, giving him a confidence boost. "i like these," he mumbles, referring to your breasts. "yeah?" "yeah. they're soft and squishy, perfect to just play with. do you ever play with them?" an awkward smile appears on your incredulous face. "uh, sometimes? like when i'm in the shower or when i'm bored. my dresses usually get in the way of anything getting in so..."

"if i was a girl, i would be playing with mine all the time. it's very comforting."

you furrow your brows at him and laugh softly at his honesty. you move your hands up to his pecs and squish them playfully in the same manner xavier was touching you. "how does this feel then?" you giggle. "feels like i'm being fondled by a pretty girl. mine compare nothing to yours, though. bet yours taste nice too."

xavier moves down to your hardened nipples and wraps his lips around them with swiftness. you feel him suckle and moan on your skin like a man starved. he continues the same ministration on your other nipple, suckling and groaning with need until he decides to pop off, a large smile on his shining face. "mm, yeah, tastes amazing." you playfully hit his arm which erupts a small giggle from him, causing your heart to flutter. xavier, at the end of the day, is just as silly and childish as the day you met him. and no matter how good his stoic facade is to those around him, you knew him as someone much, much different. something about his smile flames a desire inside of you. not one so much of lust but more of a need for connection. pushing royal rules was something everyone did here and there, completely breaking them was treason. it told everyone you had no restraint, no moral compass, that you are blinded by lust and desire and that you couldn't be loyal to your crown. maybe they were right, because right now you wanted to be loyal to xavier more than any throne in the world. "xavier, i need you," you whisper suddenly. he leans down immediately and presses a kiss to your temple. "i'm right here, my princess."

you press your hands onto his hips and move them down a bit to nestle his hard cock against your thigh. "i need you."

xavier's eyes widen slightly. he wasn't sure from the beginning if this was how far you two would go, given how anxious you were about the risks of doing so; but despite how scary sex could be for a someone like you - both a virgin and a princess - you looked at ease and assured in your words. "princess..." he whispers, "i know we're not supposed to be doing this but... i need you too."

"i don't care anymore. i want you more than i've ever wanted anything in my life." xavier chuckles and presses another kiss to your temple. "well when you put it like that, there's no way i can hesitate."

knowing you needed more preparation, xavier shifted your legs up to your waist and probed you for a few minutes before inserting a singular finger. he watched as his digit was engulfed by you the entire way and he also watched your twisting expression to ensure you were okay. it hurt a bit, obviously, but he was gentle and patient. slowly, he worked you up to two fingers and then three. it only felt uncomfortable because your muscles there were unused and inexperienced with penetration, but xavier did everything right. "you're so tight, starlight. can you relax a bit for me?" he whispers while pressing kisses down your belly. you nod and try to calm your jittery body down with deep breaths, earning an encouraging kiss from xavier. "that's it, just like that. you're doing so well. i can feel you loosing up a bit," he praises. you smile and continue breathing until you felt ready enough to move on. you look down at xavier and cup his face with a gentle hand. what a beauty you had with you. "i think i'm ready." "are you sure? there's no rush." you smile. "i'm sure." xavier nods and moves up your body so that your hips and his were pressed up against each other. he grabs his cock at the base and gently slides it in-between your pussy lips to gather your arousal and nudge your clit teasingly. after a few moments of silent rubbing, he shifts his cock a little lower and positions himself your entrance. he presses repeated kisses to your cheek as he very slowly pushes into you. you immediately tense up but the coos of xavier's voice help you relax again. "i'm a bit in, are you okay?" "y...yeah," you shudder, "feels weird but i want more." he continues pushing in and out, in and out until you took more and more of him with each passing minute. despite this being a major turning point in your relationship and lives, both of you stayed rather quiet from how attentive you were being to each other.

xavier felt how your body was slowly accepting him with each shallow thrust, so he took a slight risk. he pushes in again but this time with the intent to go deeper than before. you tense up again and immediately he comforted you. "it's okay, you're okay. tell me if it's too much." "im okay, im okay. it's just... an uncomfortable feeling, but it's starting to go away." "it's starting to go away?" he repeats with a smile. "then let's get the hard part out of the way, yeah? im gonna go deeper again but stop me if it's too much." you nod and wrap your arms around xavier's back for comfort. his cock slid out of you again and with gentle force, he pushes in even deeper causing you both to groan. you felt a shock of pain and pleasure within your legs but refused to stop at this point. xavier, on the other hand, was trying his best not to cum already. he stilled within you and whimpered softly as he forces himself to calm down before he orgasmed prematurely. sweat beads on his forehead and falls down onto your chest. "oh god, you feel so, so good. 'm seeing stars... ngh." before you could say anything, he slides out of you again and presses back into the same spot within your walls, causing you to arch off the bed and cry out. while there was still a pain within you, it was numbing off into an aching sense of pleasure. you scratch xavier's back as more cries fall from your lips while he continues to go in and out, hitting a bit deeper each time. "oh... xavier... xavier... xavier...!" "i love you, i love you, i love you."

as much as you wanted to see xavier's face, you had to clench your eyes shut from the pressure on your body. your nails continue to mark xavier from the back which only urges him to soak himself deeper within you. "yes starlight, scratch me, mark me, make me yours." he gasps out. every movement he made was a battle with his body to not lose himself inside you right then and there. xavier had experienced countless battles, training grounds, injuries, debates, a myriad of hardship; but nothing was as difficult as simply trying not to cum in you right now.

"xavier," you whine, "xavier, it f..feels good now. i feel like im losing my mind." "lose it princess, lose it with me."

he moves a hand down to your hips and lifts them slightly to get a better angle within you, while the other goes over your clit and stimulates you further. you gasp at the dual stimulation and feel an unfamiliar heat slowly coil within your navel. "xavier, i love you too. i didn't say it earlier, but i do. i love you so much. i love you with everything i have." xavier's pace falters the moment he hears your reciprocated confession. truth be told, he was refraining from cumming by just those words. he smiles endearingly and leans into your face and presses a singular kiss to the tip of your nose. "princess, can i come in you?" he asks softly, his voice now devoid of struggle. you glitch at his ask but before you could answer he continues. "you leave tomorrow, right? i want you to take a part of me before you go. i want it to be with you on your journey back. may... i?" with the way xaiver was asking you with his sweet, tender voice and his adoring eyes, you would've given him a baby if he asked. oh wait. "yes, please do." the elation on his face was almost indescribable, you wanted to laugh. he shifted out of your again and then pushed back in until your pelvis met his. this was the deepest he’s gone in so far and you could feel how his cock curved up into you and nudged against your walls. you felt that final push and cried loudly. you lift your legs to wrap around xavier’s hips while he pressed kisses to your cheek to comfort you. at this point you were attached to his body like glue and you weren’t planning on letting go.

“oh stars above,” he groans, “i fit so perfectly in you princess, yeah?” xavier presses another kiss to your forehead before resting his chin atop of your head. “you’re all nice and snug, i want you to trap me in you so you don’t have to go tomorrow.”

“y…you’re crazy.”

xavier smiles and wraps his arms around your chest. he pulls out again only to sink into you once more. each thrust was no longer as slow and methodical, instead they were getting sloppy and getting slightly faster with each thrust. he still paid attention to your cues and noises to ensure that you weren’t uncomfortable, but he needed to give you an orgasm that satisfy you every pent up need.

one arm moves from under your body and goes down to your aching clit. his fingers circle and rub you there until your bud was perking with pleasure. seeing and hearing how much each ministration was pleasuring you, he moves his head down to one of your breasts and latches onto a nipple to suckle once more. the triple stimulation on your body was too much to bear and in a matter of moments you felt that earlier coil in your stomach start to unravel.

“x..xavier! i feel weird… i think im gonna…!” you gasp and clench onto his body as if you were preparing for the worst.

“t…that’s my girl, let go. i’ve g..got you. you’re gonna squeeze an orgasm an out of me too.”

you squeeze your eyes shut and lock your legs tighter around xavier hips. the next thing you knew, you felt a hot flash down your body that converged in-between your legs and bursted with great force. you almost screamed but xavier ate up your cries with soothing kisses as his own orgasm welled up and tipped over within you. he feels the throbbing of your clit and the tightening of your pussy around his cock, milking him for what he’s had stored up for years.

your first, and his first, orgasm.

xavier’s heavy balls coil up as his cock paints the inside of your sweetness with an intense load of cum. tears fall from your eyes, your body twitched with overstimulation, you felt your mind going numb from how overwhelmed you were, but you didn’t regret a single moment of it. xavier whimpers your name out as his cock spurts out the last few gushes of cum within you. the feeling of something so sticky and hot inside your pussy was incredibly weird but you felt a strange sense of contentment at how full you were.

“i love you so much, don’t leave me. stay here with me.” xavier whispers in a small voice as his body stills within you. he waited patiently for you to calm down before pressing more kisses to your face.

“you…you know i can’t do that,” you reply in a struggle. your body felt exhausted from the exertion but you were still attentive to xavier.

“i know.”

xavier nestles his head underneath your chin and holds you gently and you reciprocate with an embrace around his neck. there was a bittersweet silence between you two. maybe more sweet than bitter for you and maybe more bitter than sweet for xavier. the ache and pain in you went ignored as you prioritized focusing on xavier over anything else in the moment. you couldn’t properly see his face and the dim room made it hard to see his body clearly, but you could tell he was upset.

you press a gentle kiss to his forehead and rub your nose there affectionately. usually you would tease him about acting like a little baby but humor felt misplaced here. your heart ached but you weren’t sure what to say to comfort him. so instead, you say the one thing you could think of and truly mean.

“i love you, xavier.”

“i love you more.”

a/n: i’ve literally slaved away writing this lowkey, but i enjoyed it. sorry if the second half of this seems lackluster, i was slowly going insane from how much i was writing and i needed it to be DONE WITH. anyway xavier for life 💜

[flamingfoxninja]

I've been thinking about FH:JY lately and about the characters and how their stories just arched over three seasons and told a beautiful tale of growing up. I thought about how Junior Year ended and how Freshman Year began.

Then I remembered. Brennan would have let Gorgug die.

First day filming first campaign and a PC is full dead. No one had revivify much less diamonds on him. And Brennan 100% would have just let that happen. And was going to. Except for one thing.

Kristen died too.

Think about that. Brennan Lee Mulligan had two dead PC's on his hand. First day of filming just one session and shit already hit the fan. He had to Episode Two'd to get shit back on track and revive the both of them.

Both of them. Not just one. Both.

If Kristen had made her save, if she had survived and live, Gorgug would be dead. There would be no dad finding, there would be no exploring his roots, no greatest wizard of all time, no "its Gorgug keep going", no gentle kindness or loving support for his friends, no nothing. He would have been a shy insecure kid holding a tin flower hoping for a friend that ended up dead the first day of school.

But Kristen Applebees saved him.

She saved him by dying herself.

Her death, the one started her personal journey of faith and enloghtenment, forced not only the gods within her world to act, but the DM as well. The guy that literally made their world, Brennan Lee Mulligan, had to act because Kristen death was too much.

Honestly as powerful as the Narrative Nat 20 is, her first ture miracle was on the first day of school, when her death saved Gorgug

[ruesol]

Boxer!Sukuna often thinks about what his future would’ve looked like if he didn’t pick his career over you. (inspired by Sienna by The Marías) afab!reader

The idea of what could’ve been keeps burning in his mind. It’s been burning for years, ever since that day he left you behind with your eyes brimming with tears and heart torn in two.

But he had to move forward. He fell in love with the sport before he fell in love with you.

It was all too late to go back and contemplate over the decision again. Uraume had already popped the good champagne and his friends were busy dancing and boisterously laughing inside his penthouse, celebrating the biggest win of his career. All while the champion was standing in the empty balcony, gazing at the glittering streets as the sun set.

His rise to fame was a treacherous yet rewarding journey. He was proud but he was also empty. Maybe if he had just stuck around and suffered a little longer with you then you would’ve been standing next to him today, clinking your flute with his, and laughing at his romantic and flirtatious remarks. He probably could’ve kissed you right after winning the fight and flaunted your ring to the world to announce his retirement after his final win.

Maybe you both would even have a little one being carried around in his brother’s arms for the night. A child too spoilt and adorable for their own good. Maybe they’d have your eyes. Or his—he doesn’t really care. Simply knowing that the child was a product of the love you both shared was enough to fill him with the happiness of multiple lifetimes.

Much to his chagrin, there was no veracity to his dream.

On the other side of the world, you stared at the rising sun as you thought about the past and the upcoming years of your life. How different they were. You came so far. Made so many developments.

Yet your heart still quickens when you remember your first great love, Sukuna Ryomen.

Like most love stories, it was a whirlwind of a romance. A passion felt like no other. It consumed you till you blindly believed that you were a part of his existence. His existence revolved around making you happy. He even said so, often kissing you like you were going to fade away.

But all good things must end.

You thought your life was going to stop when he bid his final goodbye. You slowly learned to get back up on your feet again, picking up the pieces that he broke.

Your heart was bandaged, and a little guarded, but you still welcomed love for you were full of it and had so much to give. A pattern you were willing to repeat.

The diamond on your finger sparkles when the sunlight hits it, bringing your gaze down to where your hand was resting on the window pane.

You often felt guilty when your fiancé talked about children with an enthusiastic hilt in his voice. While he’d revel on about how he’ll spoil the child, you were busy concealing your true thoughts.

Thoughts that made you feel horribly guilty.

What would’ve happened if you had just fought for Sukuna’s love a little harder, latched on to his legs as your scabby knees dragged across the ground as he walked away?

Maybe you’d already have a child in your arms. Your heart often swells whenever you ponder over an imaginary child with Sukuna’s temper. Tiny lips forming a pout with the most expressive eyes ever.

Lately that child has been living in your mind more often than not, making you long for them with their haunting laugh and toothless smiles.

But you know you’ll never see them. Or him for that matter. You’ve put that part of reality away in a box and shoved it deep in the back of your mind so you’ll never forget it.

And so you can be fair to your fiancé who loves you more than you know.

The only thing that gives you solace is the possible existence of alternate universes—different microcosms of the life you could’ve shared with Sukuna Ryomen had he not given you up like you were a fickle thought.

—

I know I said I wanted to get out of the boxer!sukuna bubble but I was having major writer’s block with my sentient game character ghost fic and this drabble just pulled me out of it 👍

[lemonlover1110]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐬

Satoru Gojo

[Chapter 30] Graduation

← Previous Chapter - Story Masterlist

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x f!Reader

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Fluff

*THIS IS IT thank you all so much for reading, this truly has been a journey and I couldn't have done it without your support. love you all so much🫂❤️

**Too lazy to put all the smut warnings, it's nothing too extreme just some face sitting and whatnot :p

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

“Are you ready to go?” Satoru asks, walking into your room to find you sitting in front of the vanity. You’re finishing up your makeup, putting the lash touch on your lips. His heart skips a beat, and he could faint right at this moment. He’s the luckiest man alive. He still has to rush you, “You can’t be late to your own graduation.”

“Is Anzu ready?” You question, and Satoru hums in response. He walks over to the bed and takes a seat to watch you.

“What? Do you not think I’m responsible enough? I can handle a baby.” Satoru says, as if you didn’t find your daughter nearly chewing an extension cord yesterday because he took his eyes off her for a second. You’re taking an awfully long time to answer the question which makes Satoru scoff, “She’s ready and with your mom.”

“Good.” You answer, turning your attention back to yourself yet again. Which type of earrings will be best? Satoru got you some beautiful diamond earrings for this occasion but you’re not sure you want to wear them– You don’t want to show off to everybody that your fiancé is filthy rich.

“Why don’t you put on the ones I got you?” Satoru sees that you’re struggling to pick the earrings you’ll wear for the night, so he’ll make a suggestion. You ignore him though, and he can’t help but laugh. He stands up, “I’ll go check on Ren while you finish up then.”

“Yeah, make sure he showered.” You tell him, and Satoru hums in response. He walks out of the room, getting ready to deal with the nine-year-old even though the child only seems to listen to you. The man feels like neither of his kids really listen to him, but he guesses he deserves it.

You smile back at yourself in the mirror, elated with how things go. Accepting Satoru’s breakfast offer as a date made your life change– You’d argue for the better, though some people didn’t want you and Satoru to get back together. It took you a while to officially start dating, since Satoru was married; even though you knew his marriage wasn’t authentic, you didn’t want to interfere with any of the mess that was going on.

Satoru began the divorce process with Sayo not too long after asking you out. It was a mutual decision that they kept hidden for as long as they possibly could. Even after their divorce was finalized, they refused to share the news with Sayo’s parents. You understood completely, knowing that it was a bigger issue than what it seemed. You had Satoru all to yourself either way, you didn’t really care what a random pair of old people thought. 

The truth came to light eventually, when you got pregnant with your baby girl. It ended Sayo’s relationship with her parents, but time has passed and she’s much happier without them. It was around two years ago, when Ren kept begging for a baby brother, and Satoru convinced you that it would be a great idea. You wanted another baby so there wasn’t the need for too much convincing either way. Unluckily for Ren, Anzu ended up being a baby girl. 

If you were given the chance to go back in time and change something, you’d keep everything the same. Maybe you would’ve kicked Satoru’s groin once or twice, but you’d do it all again. For Ren, for Anzu. For Satoru as well, though you wouldn’t admit it outloud.

“Ren isn’t ready!” Satoru yells, and you can’t help but chuckle as you roll your eyes. Your sweet baby boy is slowly becoming disobedient, and it’s a bit frustrating. You knew it was going to happen eventually, it’s just hard to believe that your baby boy is slowly setting off on his own adventure.

“Ren! Come here!” You yell, and within a matter of seconds your son comes running into your room. He doesn’t listen to Satoru, but you? He’ll listen to almost everything you have to say.

“What’s up?” He asks, and you look him over. You shake your head disappointedly, seeing that he’s still wearing pajamas.

“Do you want to stay home? Mrs. Gojo is more than happy to babysit.” Even when the woman is about to become your mother-in-law, you refuse to call her anything other than Mrs. Gojo. She’s the grandmother of your two kids, but you refuse to acknowledge her in any other way.

You barely have a relationship with her, for many reasons. Main one is that Satoru doesn’t really want to associate himself with her, not after everything that went down with Ren. Frankly, the only reason he even speaks to her is because Ren adores her– Though you believe that his opinion about his grandma is slowly changing because Ren quickly shakes his head.

“We’re going to her home later anyway, you can stand behind.” You assure him, but he shakes his head before darting out of the room. You almost laugh before yelling, “Make sure you don’t stink!”

“There she is!” You hear Satoru yell, and you turn around to find him with your little family. Your one-year-old squeals at the sight of her mother, while Ren glares at the baby for stealing his spotlight. You walk over to them, taking your baby Anzu into your arms before leaning down to kiss Ren’s forehead. 

“Did you have fun there, Ren?” You ask him, and he shakes his head. He’s not going to have much fun watching a bunch of people that he doesn’t know walk across a stage. Satoru didn’t even give the child his phone. 

“Ignore him, he’s been whining all day long. Where’s my kiss?” Satoru quickly changes the topic and you roll your eyes before pecking his lips. He tries to hug you without squashing the baby, saying, “Congratulations, baby. I’m so proud of you.”

“Thank you, Satoru.” You respond, pecking his lips once again. You notice a couple of missing people from your group, and you question, “Where’s my mom? And Sayo and Shoko? Their little guy?”

“Bathroom.” Ren answers, and you raise your brows. All of them? You can’t exactly blame them, the ceremony was a long one.

“How about we–” You begin but you notice that your little guy is pouty. You know the reason immediately, so you hand Satoru your baby girl and crouch down to bring the child into a hug. “Am I not getting congratulations from the person that I care about the most?”

“Anzu can’t talk yet.” He answers, which almost makes you laugh. Almost. He’s so jealous of his baby sister, which is kind of ironic considering he begged you to have a baby. His attitude certainly changed when he realized that the baby requires a lot of time and attention.

“Ren, you’re the apple of my eye.” You tell him, though the child refuses to listen. Cuddles are less frequent lately since you have a crying baby that needs you, and you barely play with him anymore. “Can mommy at least get a congratulations?”

“Congratulations, mom.” Ren responds, and you feel your heart melt. Even when he’s mad at you, he’s your cute little guy. You’re rubbing your cheek with his, being as affectionate as you can be with the little guy. Though he ends up pushing you away, telling you, “You’re doing too much.” 

“Jeez, what is it with you? One moment you’re all jealous and the next you’re saying I’m doing too much.” You chuckle, standing up. You take the baby from your fiancé, knowing that she still has a long way before she can tell you that you’re doing too much. 

“Can we leave before we bump into any traffic?” Satoru asks, reading the time on his watch. Not that he’s thrilled to go to his mother’s house, but he’d prefer to be there than sitting in traffic for hours on end. He sees your eyes wandering around for the rest of your group but before you get any ideas he reminds you, “You don’t want to sit in a car with a screaming one-year-old, do you?”

“Yeah… I guess we’ll just meet them at your mom’s place.” You answer, knowing that once your baby girl begins to cry, it’s hard to get her to stop. Good thing for you, she’s usually all smiles and giggles.

“She’s drooling.” Ren points at his sister, who’s making a mess on your gown. Ren then turns his attention to his dad, asking, “I wasn’t a messy baby like her, right?”

“I wouldn’t know.” Satoru mutters, and you glare at him.

“Let’s get going.”

The graduation party is for you, a way for Mrs. Gojo to congratulate you on finally finishing your bachelor’s. In reality, it’s a way for her to see her grandchildren. A way for her to spoil Ren and dote on Anzu. 

Things between the two of you go back to the way they were: she barely notices you and you don’t acknowledge her. You’re no longer relying on her in any way, and apart from asking about your kids, the woman won’t bother to contact you. She’s fine with the change of you becoming Satoru’s fiancée– And even if she was opposed to it, Satoru won’t listen to her. As a matter of fact, Satoru never calls her first.

You’re in the kitchen, preparing yourself a plate of food, watching as Mrs. Gojo holds your baby. It’s odd to watch her be so… Soft with someone. Sure, she enables Ren and is willing to do anything he wants, but Ren sets the tone. You’ve never watched her with a baby before.

“Who’s my pretty girl?” The woman is putting a baby voice for fuck’s sake, something she never did for her own son. Maybe it’s the fact that she’s just grandma now, she doesn’t have to worry about anything but her grandchildren. Anzu is giggling, so Mrs. Gojo is doing something right.

“I can’t believe that’s my mother.” Satoru approaches you, a little disgusted to watch his mother like this. He should be happy, but it’s a little weird to watch such a cold woman put on a baby voice and entertain a baby. “That is my mother, right? They didn’t change her after her facelift?”

“I’m right here, Satoru. Just because I’m holding a baby doesn’t mean that my ears have disappeared.” She quickly scolds her son, and you can’t help but laugh. “I didn’t get a facelift either.”

“Right, you just spent two months in South Korea touring.” Satoru retorts, grabbing a plate for himself. They begin to bicker, and as entertaining as it is to watch them, you leave them alone to sort out their own issues.

You walk to the living room to find Ren playing with Shoko and Sayo’s baby– Something that he won’t do with his own baby sister. You’re not sure if it’s because she’s not the baby brother that Ren wanted or if it’s because he’s not getting the same amount of attention as before. Sayo keeps a close eye on the child, not because she doesn’t trust him, but because she’s an overprotective mother. You sit beside him, excited to watch him play and be sweet with a baby, even if it isn’t your baby girl.

“He’s so sweet. Is he like this with Anzu?” Sayo asks, ruffling Ren’s hair as he plays peek-a-boo with the ten-month-old baby. You scoff, as if. Your reaction is the best answer that she needs, and she chuckles. She’s not sure if that’s normal behavior between siblings since she’s an only child.

“What do you mean you aren’t the sweetest older brother to Anzu? You were so excited to be a big brother.” Shoko points out, and Ren’s brows come together. He knows he can’t be mean to his auntie Shoko… So he simply glares at her.

“I don’t want to play with your baby anymore.” He responds. It’s his way of punishing Shoko for the question.

“Damn, can’t take any sort of criticism. You really don’t need a DNA test, that’s one hundred percent Satoru’s kid.” Shoko says, which earns a laugh from you.

“Babe…” Sayo says through gritted teeth, which makes Shoko roll her eyes. God forbid she points out one thing.

“He’s just a little jealous, but he loves his baby sister.” You tease him, pinching your baby boy’s cheek, and he puffs out a breath. Maybe he does like her a bit. Ren doesn’t defend himself, deciding that he’s just going to grab some food from your plate as a punishment. Though it isn’t exactly a punishment for you, you’re always happy to watch your baby eat. “Do you want me to make you a plate, honey?”

“I’m not hungry.” He mutters, crossing his arms. He stands up from his seat, and walks to the stairs, planning to go to the room that his grandma has for him. He might not have his parents undivided attention anymore, but at the very least he still has a room that’s full of games that’s just for him (as if he didn’t have one in your home either). 

“He really is Satoru’s kid…” Shoko comments when Ren is out of sight, and Sayo scolds her again.

“He is, he looks just like me.” Satoru pops into the living room unannounced, which catches Shoko off guard. He wasn’t supposed to hear that, since it’s a critique of his character but she doesn’t find a care to give. He comes back holding Anzu after nearly having to fight his mother to get her. He sits down next to you, reaching for some of the food on your plate. “But I’m guessing it wasn’t a compliment since it’s coming from you.”

“I can be nice, you know.” Shoko responds, and Satoru laughs as if a joke had just come from her lips. Nice… He’ll believe it when he sees it though. Satoru takes a bite of the food that he’s taken from your plate, and he grimaces.

“Did my mom cook or what? This is disgusting.” Satoru can’t even chew the food. Unluckily for him, he doesn’t have anywhere where he can spit the food so he’s forced to swallow. Anzu is screaming, little hand trying to reach for the food. Satoru covers her eyes, “Don’t even look there, my love. There’s no way I’m letting you eat that.”

“It’s not that bad.” You tell him, tasting the food yourself. 

“Well what is it? Am I getting a plate for myself or not?” Shoko asks, reaching over to grab some food from your plate as well. Suddenly your plate has become everyone’s plate; you’re used to it at home with Satoru and Ren, but now Shoko is on the list.

“I wouldn’t trust her with food, she’s always claiming she wants to eat the baby’s cheeks.” Satoru argues, and you click your tongue knowing damn well that he says the same thing.

“Anzu has the cutest, chubbiest cheeks, I understand.” Sayo chimes in before looking at her own baby and kissing his cheeks. Shoko takes a bite, keeping her face neutral as she chews the food. 

“It’s not that bad, Satoru. You’re just dramatic.” Shoko responds, and Satoru pouts. He brings some of the food to the baby’s lips– Even though he claimed he wasn’t going to let her taste, he needs someone to prove him right and that someone will be his one-year-old daughter that spits everything back up.

“Taste this, love.” Satoru says as Anzu bites into the food. Within moments it dribbles down her chin, and back into Satoru’s hand. He’s grossed out, but at least his point has been proven. “Anzu doesn’t like it so…”

“Are you trying to prove your point by using a baby that just stopped breastfeeding?” Shoko questions, and Satoru glares at her. She can’t help but chuckle, “Man, your son is just like you.”

“I’m going to talk to him since he appreciates me.” Satoru stands up, and begins to walk to the stairs, but your voice stops him. You call out his name, and he expects some sort of apology from you but instead you ask,

“Have you seen my mom?”

“She popped into the kitchen to talk to my mom.” He answers before leaving. You’re unphased by the response. The women that don’t get along in any other circumstance, sit together to talk about their grandchildren. They can be cordial with each other once every six months.

Though Satoru doesn’t pay much attention to them, his focus right now is on his baby boy that sits alone in the game room. Ren sits down on the floor, reading to himself. Satoru doesn’t want to interrupt the healthy habit, but at the same time he doesn’t want Ren to sit by himself during the party. He takes a moment to wash his hands before joining Ren.

“Why are you here, honey? We’re celebrating your mom downstairs.” Satoru sits down beside Ren on the floor, and he feels ten years older as he hears his bones crack. Ren barely looks up from his book, side-eyeing his sister, which makes Satoru want to roll his eyes. Isn’t he a little too old to be jealous of a baby? Matter of fact, he begged to be a big brother. “What is your issue with her? What has she done to you?”

“Nothin’.” Ren claims, his eyes landing on his book again. Satoru sighs, letting the baby on the floor so she can walk around and do as she pleases. She chooses to stay nearby, walking over to her brother to take the book that he has in his hands. “See.”

“Anzu, go over there. Chew on the power cords.” Satoru redirects her elsewhere, and the baby whines because she wants something else. “So she takes all your stuff, is that why you don’t like her? You have a lot, Ren.”

“Not just my stuff. Everyone likes her better. You, mom, granny, grammy, the nanny. I used to be everyone’s favorite but then the cute baby came along.” Ren confesses, and Satoru fights back the urge of pointing out that he called Anzu cute. It’s not about the baby right now, Satoru reminds himself.

“You’re still everyone’s favorite, Ren.” Satoru tells a little white lie– There are no favorites in the family, he loves both of his kids equally. But the baby can’t understand him, it’s why he told her to chew on a power cord. “Everyone is just excited about the new baby, it’s not that you’re not the favorite anymore.”

“Why does she get away with everything then?” Ren asks as if he didn’t know any better. He’ll act dumb simply because he’s jealous. He doesn’t ask why Sayo and Shoko’s baby gets away with everything, because Ren knows that it’s just a baby… He just doesn’t have the same feelings about Anzu.

“Well for one thing she goes potty in her pants so… She isn’t really conscious about her actions.” Satoru answers, and Ren puffs out a breath. Satoru got him there. “Anzu just needs a lot of attention because she’s–”

“Don’t do that!” Ren cuts off his father when he realizes that Anzu is doing what Satoru told her to do earlier. Ren takes the cord out of her hand, and she lets out a cry. He’s going to complain about her, but he loves her.

“She’ll grow on you.” Satoru says, standing up to grab his walking baby and get out of Ren’s hair. Ren doesn’t like the baby but he certainly loves her. “But come downstairs, Ren. We’re celebrating your mommy’s achievement. She was talking about hanging up her diploma next to your kindergarten diploma.”

“Can you tell them I don’t want to talk about Anzu?” Ren asks, and Satoru hums in response. Satoru extends his hand for Ren to take, and the child takes it without an issue before both head back downstairs to spend time with you.

“What are you doing here?” Satoru approaches you as you sit on the ground outside, in his mother’s garden. You’re hiding from everyone. After hours of talking to people inside, you need a break from the small group.

“Need a minute.” You answer, and Satoru decides to sit down next to you. The kids are fine with their grandmothers, he can take a moment alone with you and properly congratulate you. He throws his arm over your shoulder and brings you close to him. “We should’ve just gone out to eat at a restaurant and called it a day. I don’t have the energy to be so social.”

“I got you a trip to Bora Bora. You just have to power through these last couple of hours… We can get Anzu to throw a fit and make it a few minutes.” He responds and you chuckle. You rest your head on his shoulder and shut your eyes for a moment. Being social shouldn’t be so draining.

“Can we leave the kids with granny?” You ask him, and he hums in response. He had no plans on taking them; he loves them, but they sure know how to ruin a vacation. 

Your gaze falls on his face, looking into the blue eyes you fell in love with so long ago. Even though it was an eternity ago, he still makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t let you stare for too long before he steals a kiss from you.

“If you stare for too long you might find me ugly.” Satoru tells you and you roll your eyes. If you don’t find him ugly first thing in the morning then you’re definitely not finding him ugly now.

“Are you saying that because–” You begin but the man cuts you off before you can finish your question. He knows you, he knows that you’ll start a petty fight with a dumb question.

“Because I love you so much, and I think I’m not good enough for you– I know I’m not good enough for you, you’re perfect.” Satoru responds, making you grin from ear to ear. He isn’t exactly wrong, he’s lucky that you considered getting back together with him at all.

“I love you too even though you’re…” You bite your tongue before you insult him. He raises a brow and before he can question anything, your lips land on his. His cheeks begin to turn pink when you peck his lips over and over again, feeling like a teenager all over again.

You stare into his eyes when you stop, watching the sparkle in them as he looks back at you. He’s utterly in love with you, and the feeling only gets more intense as time passes. He caresses your face with the back of his hand ever so lovingly. You get lost in his loving eyes until your eyes shift to the flowers behind him.

“Oh my–” You gasp, your eyes widening as you realize. “This is where you used to pick flowers for me?”

“Oh, yeah.” Satoru laughs, turning to pick a lily for you. It’s been years since he’s been in this place. Maybe he should come here more often. “A flower for my flower.”

“Cheesy.” You take it from his hands, wanting to roll your eyes because of his comment– But your face is getting hot. Even when he’s cheesy your heart threatens to beat out of your chest.

“Yeah, cheesy is what got me two kids.” He retorts. “Isn’t that right, Mrs. Gojo?”

“Calling me Mrs. Gojo is going to make you single.” You warn him, and he fights back on laughing. “Don’t make me divorce you before getting married.”

“What? Are you going to Suguru for a rebound again?” Satoru questions, making you glare at him. Maybe he should just listen and agree, not everything needs a response from him. “I’m just joking, baby. He has a girlfriend now and whatnot.”

“You better stick to your day job, you have no future as a comedian.” You say, standing up from the ground to go back inside, and of course, Satoru follows like a lost puppy. He’s simply lost without you.

You love spending time with your kids, you love them more than anything– But you’re not going to pass up on the opportunity of a sleepover. Having them off your hands for the night is a blessing sometimes. You simply want to celebrate with your fiancé in a way that your kids make difficult.

“I’ll run you a bath.” Satoru tells you, running to go upstairs to get to the bathroom before you. Running you a bath that he’ll end up joining, that’s not too bad. It’s a nice way to end the night, that you know for sure.

You give him a moment to set everything up, pulling out your phone to answer a couple of messages of people congratulating you for finishing your degree. What’s next? You’re not too sure. But whatever you decide it’s fine. You have Satoru and your kids by your side no matter what. The money also helps.

Right now, you know you want to relax in a bathtub full of bubbles. Maybe have Satoru right next to you. You’ve been looking into the future for the past ten years, for once you just want to sit back and appreciate the moment. 

“Are you coming?!” You hear Satoru as you walk up the stairs. He’s so impatient, he can’t even wait a minute. You won’t hurry up to please him, as a matter of fact, you walk slower. Satoru is tapping his foot on the floor when you finally get to the bedroom.

“Finally.” He says, walking over to you to zip down the zipper that holds your dress together. He’s desperate to get you naked. You’re chuckling, reminding him,

“No need for you to be in a rush, we have all night.” But it goes in one ear and out the other. Before you know it, he turns you around, his lips landing on yours. His kiss is full of desire, needing to feel your every touch on his skin. He’s burning up to feel you.

“Fuck, I want you so fucking bad.” He pulls away from the kiss as the dress drops to the ground. He picks you up from the floor and puts you down on the bed, smirking at the black lingerie that will soon be removed. “So perfect for me, love.”

“Fuck me, Satoru.” You tell him, voice seductive that can get him to drop to his knees in an instant. The bath that’s filled up and with bubbles is long forgotten by both of you. He takes off his shirt and pants, leaving his briefs. Your eyes stare at the tent that makes him ever so uncomfortable. You sit up on the bed, your fingers going directly to the erection.

Your index finger goes underneath the band of his underwear, eyes looking up at him as you pull his briefs down. Your eyes quickly avert to his cock, wrapping around the base of it. You slowly move your hand from base to tip as pre-cum leaks from the tip. Your tongue licks it up, circling around it as the man bites down on his lip.

Your mouth wraps around all it can take, bobbing your head slowly. You take what your mouth can handle. He can’t complain because it’s just perfect. Everything you do in Satoru’s eyes is perfect. The pace is slow, but it gradually gets faster. 

You look up at him to find him biting his lip, his eyes shut. You take his cock out of your mouth, and begin to run your hand up and down his shaft, your saliva serving as a lubricant. He finally opens his eyes to look down at you, but his teeth remain on his bottom lip.

“I want to hear you.” You say, a rather demanding tone in your voice. He stops biting down on his lip, and your hand continues to jerk him off for a couple of seconds before your mouth wraps around his cock again.

He’s groaning at your every move, which is like music to your ears. You look up at him to find him looking back down at you. He knows you’re more than satisfied with him, with how he sounds. It’s nice to be as loud as he wants to be, without worrying about someone barging in.

You try to take his whole length in your mouth, making you gag. Tears quickly form in your eyes as you remove your mouth from his cock, and try again. He throws his head back, breathy moans escaping his lips at your every move. 

You take your mouth off his cock and begin to jerk him off. Your mouth goes to his balls and you begin to suck on them. Satoru got louder and louder by the second, his release approaching. 

Your mouth goes back to his cock while your hands begin to play with his balls. It doesn’t take too long for his cum to hit the back of your throat. Your mouth remains on his cock for a couple of seconds before pulling away. You make sure to swallow all the cum, sticking your tongue out for him to see and proudly admire.

“My good girl.” He praises you. He reaches behind to unhook your bra and slide it off you. Once it’s off, he desperately tries to take off your panties. It’s unexpected when he gets on the bed and lays down. You crawl to where he is, positioning yourself on top of him. You get ready to ride him, but it takes you by surprise when your fiancé says, “Sit on my face.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, though it’s not unusual from Satoru.

“Just come here and sit.” He responds. You do what he wants, but you are hesitant to fully sit down. He’s the one who pushes you down onto him. His tongue is quick to wander around your cunt.

His tongue begins to flick your clit over and over again, making low moans leave your lips. His arms go over your thighs, pushing you down further. You’d be worried about him breathing, if you weren’t too focused on how his tongue moves around your pussy.

“Toru!” You moan. Your moans serve as encouragement, and are a sweet reward for the man, moving his tongue faster. His tongue stops flicking your clit, and moves down to your hole. He teases you, threatening to enter but never really doing it. 

“Baby please.” You beg. His tongue finally enters your cunt. You shut your eyes, getting lost in the feeling. But out of the two of you, Satoru is enjoying it more. He finally takes his tongue out and goes back to your clit. 

He begins to suck on your clit, and you swear you see stars as your orgasm builds up. Your hips raise a bit, but he pushes you back down. You get louder and louder. “I’m gonna- fuck- gonna cum-”

You moan loudly as you reach your climax, his tongue still working wonders. A minute later he stops, and you get off him, sitting down on his torso. He raises himself a bit, not completely to sit up but enough to wrap his hand around your throat and pull you into a lewd kiss.

“Should we continue in the bath?” Satoru asks when he pulls away and you can’t nod your head more frantically. You get off the bed and practically run to the bath. Satoru gets in the bathtub first, and you follow behind.

“You’re so lucky.” You point out as your back presses against his chest. He’s never doubted it. He peppers your neck with kisses, while you align his cock with your entrance. You lower yourself on his cock.

“How about another baby?” Satoru asks, making you click your tongue while you begin to move.

“Leave me alone” You reply, and he wants to chuckle but he’s biting down his lip as he feels your pussy wrap around him. He loves your mouth but it can’t compare to this. 

He’s kissing your back, showing you how much he loves you in every possible way as you move up and down his cock. His hand moves down to play with your clit, making you shut your eyes. Every little touch is enough to make you insane lately and Satoru loves to touch you.

“You’re so perfect around me, baby.” Satoru whispers into your ear before nibbling on your earlobe. 

You’re softly moaning his name, your walls tightening around him. You’re so close to finishing. You’ve been so touch deprived lately since your schedules make spending time with each other impossible– Maybe now you’ll have more time to spend with each other.

“Fuck–” You curse as you finish on his cock. You hold to the edge of the bathtub as Satoru continues to move in and out of you. 

He’s not going to last long. It’s too hard for him to contain himself when he’s inside of you. He comes to a complete stop when he finally reaches his release, finishing inside of you. He remains buried inside of you as you pant to catch your breaths, but after a minute you lift yourself and take his cock out of you.

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” Satoru asks, hands caressing your arms as your head goes to his chest.

“Just sleep.” You answer as Satoru kisses the top of your head. He squeezes your hand before bringing it up to his lips to press a subtle kiss on it. “I need to get some rest.”

“Sleep sounds nice.” Satoru responds. You’re getting comfortable in the bathtub as your eyes begin to get heavy. You’re tired. Satoru notices and he splashes you, “Don’t fall asleep in the bathtub, love.”

“Just carry me to the bed.” You reply, making him roll his eyes playfully. He can, but if you don’t drag him out he’ll stay in the water and get all pruny. He’s warm by your side, too comfortable to leave. This is the reality he wanted ten years ago, and he finally has it. He’s not leaving this comfort no matter what gets in the way.

You’ll be the one to get up first and drag him out, that’s how it usually is in the morning. But you’re falling asleep. He doesn’t want to disturb you either. So he’ll just stay in the bathtub. 

“Don’t let me get all pruny, Satoru. Carry me out.” You warn him, and he hums in response. He’ll have to eventually because you’ll end up killing him if you wake up in ten hours, and you’re still in the bathroom.

“You know Ren is going to call later to say goodnight?” He points out, but you don’t care to talk about it. You’re sleepy. He kisses the top of your head when he’s met with silence. He mutters softly to not disturb your peace, 

“I love you. Goodnight, baby.”

[milliesfishes]

I NEED ANOTHER BILLY OR CORYO SNAPPING AT READER them being overstimulated and stressed all day and being off with the reader at every interaction and towards the end of the day she just bursts into tears and billy or coryo have to work HARD at making it up to her 😭😭😭😭😭

౨ৎ꣑ৎcoryo snaps at you and has to grovel for it౨ৎ꣑ৎ fem reader x coriolanus snow

Padding around your pretty bedroom, you fidgeted with the ring shaped like a bow around your finger, trying not to think about the man in the room down the hallway. All day he’d been shut in his office dealing with an issue you weren’t sure of the specifics about. The only thing you knew was that he was in a sour mood, barely looking up when you’d gone inside to check on him.

It wasn’t unusual for Coriolanus’ emotions to throw everyone off their axis, but you weren’t used to being the direction of it. He was always warm and loving with you, soft touches and sweet kisses administered whenever he thought you were being sweet, which was always. Admittedly, when you’d made the journey down the hall to find him, you’d been hoping for something of that variety. You wanted to be touched, fussed over, but instead he practically ignored you.

Heaving a sigh, you flopped back onto your fluffy pink duvet, staring at the ceiling. Even though Coriolanus and you preferred to sleep together, you still kept separate rooms for the sake of tradition. Plus, you needed a place to keep all the gifts he was constantly showering you in.

Your room was a cloud of pink, decorated exactly how you’d wanted it and filled to the brim with pictures and chairs and bookshelves full of the things you loved. The closet was even more spectacular, dripping with diamonds and the names of famous designers. Coriolanus’ room, on the other hand, he spent very little time inside, and it resembled a jail cell compared to yours. A large, comfortable jail cell, but still.

Most nights he would undress and pass out in your bed, muttering softly that he could never fall asleep without you. You’d whisper the same back, kissing his cheek and smiling as he traced the lace of your nightdress. Waking up and seeing him buried in the covers of your pink cozy bed was the sweetest thing in the world. It felt like being in a dream.

He entered the room shortly after you dragged yourself up to get ready for bed. Abandoning your selection of a nightdress, you poked your head out of the closet, smiling wide when you saw him. “Hello, darling.”

Nodding stiffly, he barely looked at you as he unhooked the buttons of his cuffs and loosened his tie. You didn’t have a clue why he still wore such fancy clothes when he was working at home, but he looked nice in them.

Blinking wide-eyed, you came closer to him, tentatively wrapping your arms around his waist and kissing between his shoulder blades. “Are you alright?” He continued moving without acknowledging you. 

Frowning, you let go and stared at him silently. He wouldn’t turn around. Had you done something? Maybe he was just tired. Slipping back into the closet, you swapped your clothes for a nightdress, folding your things neatly.

He was in the bathroom when you walked in to take off your makeup and brush your teeth. You tried to catch his eye in the mirror but he was squarely focused on his task of shaving. Feeling disappointed, you cleaned your teeth and face, brushing out your hair gently to end your routine. Any minute now surely he’d put his arms around you and apologize for ignoring you before. 

When you went to put your brush down, you accidentally let go too soon, causing it to fall with a clatter on the counter. Coriolanus flinched, tossing the towel he had been using to pat his face to the side with a scowl. “Could you be more careful?” His tone was sharp and you felt as though you’d been slapped. He’d never used a tone with you before. 

“Coryo, what’s the matter-?”

“I doubt it’s anything you’d understand.” He exhaled through his nose, brows drawn tight. 

Heart pounding, you said softly, “I can try.”

“I don’t think any of the PIN numbers for my credit cards are going to help with this,” he retorted, and you fell silent. You let his words linger in the air for a moment, staring at him in the mirror. Now he was looking at you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn. 

Turning on your heel, you strode out of the room. Tears were stinging at your eyes, but you wouldn’t let them fall. Your calico cat had made her way into your room, purring and nosing at your calves. Looking down at her, the ache in your chest was eased. Willow had a special ability to make everything all better, no matter what it was. 

“Wait, sweetheart,” he called, and you listened to him rush out of the bathroom. “Sweetheart-”

“Out.” Your voice was broken, but you didn’t care. He’d hit you where it hurt so you’d get him back. Usually that wasn’t in your nature but this was crossing a line. 

“Sweetheart,” he repeated, but you shook your head, turning around to face him with a fire burning in your eyes.

“Out. Go sleep in your room or in your office. I don’t care. Just go.” His blue eyes were round at your words, and you felt a tired glimmer of satisfaction. Folding your arms, you gave him a look, and Willow sat beside your feet in solidarity. She loved Coriolanus but she was still your cat.

Swallowing, Coriolanus picked up his tie where he’d tossed it over one of your chairs, picking up his shoes too. He looked almost deliciously pathetic as he gave you a lingering look, like a puppy. No matter how big and blue his eyes were, you remained still. 

Sighing through his nose, he finally turned his back and trudged out of the room. You shut the door behind him. Leaning back against it afterward, you shut your eyes and let the tears leak out. Was this really what he thought of you? That all you did was shop and spend his money? Sure you loved a good trip to the boutiques on the street fifteen minutes away but there was more to you than that. And he should know it.

Your sleep that night was restless. You were snuggled up close with Willow, her warm body wedged into your chest, but there was an emptiness behind you. She purred enough to fill the room but you still felt so lonely. Ever since your wedding, you’d never slept a day without him. As a politician he often had trips to go on but he wasn’t above taking you with him or shortening them so he wouldn’t be away for the night.

Sniffling, you petted Willow, trying to relax. He had looked hurt, which was your intention, but now you just felt sloppy. You should have asked him what he meant or done something to disarm him other than bite back. It was the easiest move and it wasn’t who you were at all.

Your actions haunted you all night, somehow more than his words.

In the morning you sluggishly rose and changed into a simple pink dress, cozy enough for the cool spring weather. Maybe you would go on a walk later through the gardens and enjoy the flowers that were beginning to open like fists.

For a while, you read in the cozy chair by your bookshelf and absentmindedly scratched Willow’s ears. Breakfast was brought up on a tray and you didn’t fail to notice the white rose set delicately beside your silverware. Exhaling through your nose, you set the flower to the side and ate your food, trying not to think about it. 

You left the empty tray outside your door and returned to your book, absorbing yourself in a different world of your own. It wasn’t long though, before there was a quiet knock at your door and the silhouette of your husband entered, carrying something under his arm. Determinedly, you stared back at your book.

He knelt in front of you, tilting your chin up so you’d meet his eyes. “Sweetheart, may I talk to you?” Leaning back, you looked away from him, and he sighed. “I deserve that.”

Breathing in softly, you whispered, “You were mean.”

“I was.” He lifted one of your hands to his mouth, kissing it gently. “I had no excuse for acting as I did.” When you remained stony faced, he took your other hand in his too. “Darling, I was unfair and cruel. I didn’t mean anything I said to you.”

Shoulders slumping, you gave him a weary look. “I’m not just a girl who spends all your money.”

“No,” he cooed, thumbs rubbing over your knuckles. “No, you aren’t at all. I was wrong to say things like that to you.”

“Very wrong,” you affirmed, and he nodded. 

Coriolanus searched your eyes, tone softening. “I love you, you know that?” When you nodded, he kissed your hands once more. “You’re my angel. I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“You never said anything like that before,” you mumbled.

“No, and I never will again,” he promised. You melted at the way he was looking at you, like you hung the moon and the stars and like the sun was a piece of your heart you’d borrowed to the sky. He let go of your hands and rubbed over your thighs. “Do you know why I keep the painting of you in my office where I can see it?”

“Hm?” He’d commissioned the portrait a month into your marriage, one of you holding a bouquet of roses, your hair cascading down your back. The smile on your face was sweet. He’d loved it and insisted on putting it where he completed all his work.

“Because it keeps me sane when I remember who I do all this for.” Coriolanus reached up to stroke your cheek. “I didn’t look at you enough yesterday and it was my downfall.” With the other hand, he held up the box he’d brought in with him, putting it on your lap. “This is for you.”

You undid the ribbon and lifted the lid to find a delicate silver bracelet with a heart on the chain inside. There was a hinge on the side of it, and when you opened it you found a picture of Willow on one side, one of him on the other. The sight made you smile, and you leaned forward to kiss him gently. “This is very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” Coriolanus smoothed your skirt, rubbing your thigh. His voice grew quiet. “I missed you last night.”

“I know,” you said, and he breathed a laugh. 

“It was good enough motivation for me to never do it again,” he said, and you smiled again, all your regret chased away.

“Good.”

[cinnamoodles]

what are ur favorite anthony bridgerton five

hi! i'm assuming this says fics, and i am SO HONOURED that you trust me to recommend my favourite fics to you!

first up… the amazing and fantastic @fayes-fics, one of THE MOST skilled writers alive. she never misses!

some of my personal favs from her are:

➥ a beneficial arrangement [ ⭐️ ]

a marriage pact with a viscount. what could possibly go wrong?

➥ rescue and ruin

anthony rescues something for you… and it will likely lead to your ruin.

➥ the friends+ series

modern AU. series of fics that feature anthony & journalist!reader’s burgeoning relationship.

those are just a few of my favorites, but READ HER ENTIRE MASTERLIST! you will not regret it, promise.

secondly, a series of fics by the wonderfully talented @rubysunnday, and once again, be sure to read all of her masterlist!

➥ take my hand

as much as y/n appreciates anthony’s matchmaking efforts, it’s hard to accept them when he’s the only man she wants. luckily for her, a fall in the lake allows her to voice her feelings in more ways than one

➥ a long, long time

y/n has waited a long, long time for anthony bridgerton to finally decide to get married. but by the time he finally decides to find a wife, y/n has run out of time and anthony is suddenly faced with losing her to someone else.

➥ it’s a bad idea, me and you [ ⭐️ ]

y/n was ready to give her entire heart to anthony bridgerton. only for him to shove her aside in favour for sienna rosso. but, now, sienna is gone and despite what y/n keeps telling herself - anthony truly does own her heart.

now, for the queen of the modern!anthony au, @eleanor-bradstreet! some of my favorites from her are…

➥ gala

you attend a charity gala with your boss who really is too much trouble in a tux.

➥ locked out

when you find yourselves locked out of your house in the middle of the night, anthony has some ideas for how you can kill time.

➥ take me instead [ ⭐️ ]

you and anthony find yourselves in the middle of a bank robbery on an ill-fated day.

next we have @colettebronte, BRIDGERTON SMUT AUNTIE HERSELF WOOO!

(warning, these fics are VERY mature, and include BDSM and other possibly triggering material).

➥ rise and breathe

newly arrived back in london after a long journey across the mediterranean sea, you encounter a pathetically drunk viscount bridgerton the night he is rejected by sienna rosso. after a sobering morning on all counts, you sense that he is indeed lost and in need of a new purpose and direction. through submission and service, he may just find it.

➥ what (who) are you doing on new year’s eve?

a mysterious benefactor invites you to ring in the New Year with them.

➥ kinktober day ten: blindfolded

your tenth evening with your client. day ten for kinktober. I’m going with two prompts tonight, blindfolded and massage.

finally, we have some individual fics that stole my heart.

➥ diamonds and pearls by @multiharlot

diamonds and pearls do not make up for the lack of love in your marriage.

➥ enamoured by @dreamwritesimagines

everything you heard about matters of heart and desire told you the same thing; love could lead to heartbreak at best and disastrous results at worst. yet, you were convinced that everyone was wrong. they had to be, because love was supposed to make everyone happier, no confusion or pain in sight. regardless of how naive it sounded, you were sure that you were ready to fall in love and lose yourself in the infamous bliss. that assumption right there was a terrible mistake, though. you were nowhere near ready.

➥ right person, all the wrong times by @wwinterwitch

you and anthony have been in love with one another from the moment you met, but it seems as though nothing will ever happen between you. after you catch the attention of another gentleman, he realizes perhaps it's time to finally do something about his feelings.

➥ right in front of me by @idontgiveaflyinggrayson69

the only way he could rationally find a suitable wife was by removing love from the equation all together. courtship was game of jumping through hoops he really did not want to play, and he was a viscount. surely there would be a father with a more than suitable daughter he could simply ask for your hand and get it. or the one where your arranged marriage with anthony bridgerton isn’t a loving marriage… until it is.

➥ melt away by @healmydesires

the night you give your love and body to your husband.

➥ sham, pride, and illicit affairs by @peeterparkr

or, the story of how you rejected his proposal because you once loved him.

➥ enchanted by @imthebadguyyy

you and anthony don’t need words to converse.

➥ better man by @midnightfictionlibrary

anthony must rectify his rakish ways and wed, but he has a lot to think over if he doesn’t want to lose his dearest friend forever. 

➥ no longer in denial by @iwritefandomimagines

anthony has made no secret of not wanting to marry, despite it being more than clear that he is head over heels in love with you, his “best friend”. benedict decides he is fed up of anthony’s denial, and takes matters into his own hands — by inciting jealousy from his older brother.

➥ the language of flowers by @cinnamoodles (shameless self plug)

you and anthony have been friends for as long as you can remember, but what happens when his world turns upside down? will he open his heart and let the woman silently pining for him in?

AHH ok that was it, and these are the bridgerton fics i love with all of my soul. thank you so much for your ask, it was so nice to see all these wonderful fics again.

xo, lottie !