#If i ever mention a flower by name in my writing there’s probably a meaning I like for it

[daboyau]

And another rise hunger games chapter! Wow, just training and interviews to get through, and then the real fun begins. First person to correctly guess who the president is gets a prize or something idk

prev/next

tag list! as always, let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. 💚 thank you to everyone who reads and interacts with my stories. I definitely wouldn’t be updating as often or as eagerly without you guys.

@boots-with-the-fur-club @theonlybrightowl @dandywonderous @dandylovesturtles @elijah-doodle @fredquinn @sady-is-secretly-an-alchemist @heckitall @beannary @brightandfullofglory @purplepixel @pomelined @imagionationstation @daughterofskylark @eb177 @lilysplash @burritello3000 @midwesternvibes @justchillininthebackground-06

The roar of the crowd is deafening as they emerge into the City Circle. Donnie doesn’t drop to his knees and cover his ears, no matter how much he may want to. Kendra presses herself subtly closer to his side, making his skin crawl as she tests her weight slightly against his arm, and once she’s confident that he isn’t going to let her fall, she lifts both arms high in the air in a dramatic flourish that has the crowd going wild. 

Well, that just won’t do. The competition for attention (and for their lives, though he’s trying not to think about that right at the moment) has begun, and Donnie has been a middle child for far too long to let someone else win. With a hand still bracing her, he lifts his free hand high to call attention to himself, then sweeps into a graceful bow as he uses that hand to flip the train of his costume and show off the way the scales shift and change with his movements. The excitement that gets him makes Kendra elbow him hard, digging into the leftover bruises from when Kendra had tackled him. Despite the slight sting, he turns to smirk down at her, smug as she glares back. He’s grateful for the distraction. It makes it feel a little easier to ignorr the ever increasing urge to start screaming.

White and yellow chrysanthemums rain down all around them, carpeting the streets and getting crushed beneath the wheels of the chariots. Donnie sputters as one nails him in the face, and when Kendra tilts her head back and laughs, he forces himself to do the same, all too aware of the eyes and the cameras trained on them. Kendra plucks it from where it had fallen to his shoulder and tucks it behind her ear, grinning at him with a gleam in her eyes before turning a bright smile towards the cameras. More cheers, and suddenly the flowers raining down around them feel a lot more intentional. Oh, she is good. 

There’s not much room in the chariot for them to do much more than wave or bow, or make a few subtle gestures at one another as they try to disguise jostling and thrown elbows as incidental closeness. Every time either one of them does a little half-twist or bows, the crowd goes crazy as their costumes ripple and change in a complimentary dance of beautiful colors. For one stupid moment, Donnie can almost forget what’s at stake; this just feels like hassling April or his brothers over the last piece of a birthday cake or for their dad’s attention. It is stupid and childish and all the meanness without any of the malice. It’s almost nice. 

And then the feeling of a new set of eyes on him sends a prickling up his spine. This gaze is different. It is not the attention of the thousands of cheering fans, or even the grave watchfulness he can almost imagine he feels from the District people settled in their homes, watching the proceedings on their holoscreens. It is cold and dangerous and close. 

Donnie snaps upright from his latest sweeping bow, careful to maintain his facsimile of a smile as sharp eyes sweep the crowd for the source of the gaze. He knows that it is foolish to actually believe that he can pick out or even feel a single glare amongst a crowd of over one hundred thousand, but he doesn’t know how else to classify the sudden creeping, choking sensation that has crawled up his spine and circled his neck like a noose. Alarm bells are ringing inside his head, drowning out all other sounds.

He scans the crowd, taking in the gleeful smiles and hungry excitement, before his eyes finally settle on the massive raised platform that they are barreling towards. The presidential mansion looms above them, bright and beautiful and utterly sterile. Lights are projected onto its side, fake fireworks exploding over the bone white surface in a colorful facsimile of true celebration. Standing high above them all, the president stares out with an expression that Donnie can only think of as regnant. He is impassive as he watches the proceedings, and indifferent to the fact that he holds so many lives in the palms of his hands. He is completely confident in his control of the situation and the people as he stares down at 24 soon-to-be killers. The distance between the procession and the presidential manor is still far too great for Donnie to delude himself into thinking that their eyes can meet, but he still shudders when that cold gaze passes carelessly over him. He knows where that sense of danger is stemming from now. 

Though his features are wizened and long greyed with age, the president still cuts an imposing figure. He has not let power make him soft. The cushion of Capitol living hasn’t done anything to dull his sharp edges. 

Not that Donnie is surprised, really. The man has been in power since before papa was born; an impressive feat, considering the immense power struggle that had occurred after the first rebellion failed. From what papa has told him - and what the cobbled together and highly sanitized history lessons have conveniently left out - there were an impressive number of assassinations during that time. He would have had to be sharp to survive. Unless, of course, he was the one ordering said assassinations in the first place.

Donnie narrows his eyes as they draw closer to the man who has created an age of prosperity for Panem, and has kept the Districts crushed thoroughly beneath his heel. He’s always looked minatorial during every holoscreen appearance he’s made, and papa used to warn them all of his propensity towards cruelty in hushed, fearful whispers. Donnie had never questioned his father’s words, but he hadn’t realized before now just how accurate those statements had been.

He keeps the smile in place, even as the lump in his throat grows and threatens to stop his breathing. He can’t tear his eyes away from the platform, or the figure standing atop it, flanked by his counsel. They watch the procession with a detached interest, like the children they are sending to their deaths are nothing more than pawns to be moved across the board.

Those cold eyes settle upon their chariot, raking over the beautiful costumes and sparkling gems, assessing the Tributes encased within. The president doesn’t seem impressed. He turns his attention on to the next set quickly, and Donnie feels tension prickle across his muscles as their chariots begin to slow, raising goosebumps across his bare skin as each one settles upon its predetermined spot before the presidential mansion. 

The crowd falls silent as the president steps closer to the podium, the slight electronic feedback of his microphone enough to have the entirety of the Capitol holding its breath. Donnie does his best not to wince at the sound as it needles at his skin and scratches uncomfortably inside his brain. The president’s eyes sweep over the gathered tributes again, slow and thoughtful. He does not smile, but he does incline his head at each chariot, as if acknowledging each individual District. 

“We gather today, to welcome our tributes,” he says, his deep voice soft but commanding the attention of the crowd with enviable ease. Donnie can almost feel each onlooker sit up a little straighter. “We salute each of you for your courage and your strength.”

The crowd erupts into applause, more subdued now than the previous raucous cheers and screams, but no less enthusiastic. The president smiles, just the slightest tick of his lips, and his gaze moves slowly over the crowd before snapping back towards the gathered tributes once again.

“We honor our tributes,” he says slowly, as his eyes come to rest directly upon Donnie. “—and their families. We recognize the sacrifices made for the sake of peace and prosperity. We thank you.” 

His gaze moves on, but the feeling of it lingers. Donnie stays frozen, fingers digging hard enough into the handrail that he can almost feel the flimsy metal warp beneath his grip. His heart is pounding. The lights are too bright. Everything is so loud.

He just wants to curl up in the familiar comfort of his own bed, tucked beneath the weight of his blankets. He wants Mikey to sit on his thighs to to provide much needed pressure while he hides away in the darkness of his covers. He wants Raph to hum and rub careful, comforting circles on his back. He wants Leo—

Well. He just wants to be home. He wants his family. 

“We wish you all a happy Hunger Games,” the president says serenely. “And may the odds be ever in your favor.”

The crowd cheers. Fanfare plays. The fake fireworks pop and explode all across the walls of the mansion, painting it bloody red and fire orange. Donnie stares at the bursts of color, wishing the fires were real. The president stares back, eyes narrowed like he knows the thoughts inside his head. 

The chariots begin to move with a lurch that nearly sends Digi and Gizmo stumbling off the back of theirs, and has Kendra clutching at his arm to keep her balance. He can almost feel that chilling gaze lingering as they ride away. Kendra bumps him gently with her shoulder, and when he turns to look at her, she gestures for him to lean down. He obliges, mostly out of the desire for a distraction from the creeping unease.

Her lips brush the shell of his ear as she whispers, “That speech was total bullshit, huh?” 

His smile feels a little more real all of a sudden. 

.

There is a stranger waiting for them when the elevator doors slide open to reveal their fourth floor apartment. He is seated primly upon the pristinely clean and stupidly shaped sofa, ankle crossed over his knee, hands folded in his lap, head held high. He is invading the only marginally safe or private space afforded to them within the Capitol, and it rankles how much he looks like he belongs within this stupid fancy apartment.

He assesses them as they pile off the elevator, Donnie and Kendra both shuffling awkwardly forward as they clutch at the trailing fabric of their costumes to keep it from getting caught in the elevator door. They each keep a wary eye on him, suspicious of the interloper in their apartment. Atomo goes silent when she sees their visitor, her excited chattering about their Chariot Ride and the burgeoning sponsor interest cutting off with a sharp gasp. Donnie glares at the stranger, who surveys him with an expression that he has no idea the meaning of in return. He looks…excited, maybe? But that doesn’t quite fit. Certainly not upset, but not happy either. There’s a strange shininess to his eyes as they focus on Donnie’s face. He wishes Mikey or Leo were here to tell him what that expression means.

The stranger doesn’t stand until papa steps out from behind the cover of their small crowd. His eyes light up, yet his lips pulls down into a frown. He smoothes the fabric of his skirt and crosses his arms, muscles bulging in a way that even Donnie can tell must be purposeful. Yikes and gross. Talk about desperate. 

“Draxum,” Yoshi says, his voice low and full of a quiet rage that Donnie rarely gets to hear. His hands flex at his sides before curling into tight fists. Donnie steps to the side, train dragging in his wake and shimmering even in the dim apartment lights, intent on keeping both of them in his sights. As if sensing the brewing danger, Kendra and Atomo both hurry to join him, standing a few feet back like they hope he’ll act as a buffer.

“Yoshi,” the man returns, sounding more amused than angry, which tells Donnie all he needs to know about who holds the power between the two of them. The stranger’s eyes narrow as they move slowly up and down Yoshi’s body. It’s something that he’s seen done to his father before, but it makes Donnie’s skin crawl worse than usual this time. “I see you are as pathetic as ever. Maybe even moreso than usual, considering the…special guest this year.” 

Donnie stiffens as those sharp golden eyes drift towards him once again. Draxum’s lip curls, and if he didn’t know any better Donnie might have said that it almost looks like a smile. He stares back, too exhausted to bother trying to force even the barest hint of emotion into his expression. His papa hisses between his teeth, sharp and deliberate, and Draxum’s attention snaps back towards him immediately. 

“What do you want?” he snaps, and though Draxum has a significant height advantage, he somehow manages to look down his nose at him in the way only someone who knows their own strength can. This time, the twisting of Draxum’s lips can only be a smile, small and cruel as it is.

“There has been a report that your son requires medical intervention,” Draxum says, slow and soft, and Donnie feels his stomach drop at the way those words make his father’s face go all twisted and pale. He really doesn’t want to deal with this right now. 

So he won’t. 

“I’m going to shower,” he announces, refusing to meet any of the eyes that snap towards him. “If you’re still hanging around when I’m done you can look at my back then.” 

And then he turns and stomps away, ignoring the voices that call after him as he goes. It feels good to slam the bedroom door behind him, and as silence falls over the room he finally feels like he has a chance to catch his breath. Leaning against the door just in case anyone decides to follow him, he takes a moment to just try to breathe. His eyeballs feel hot and his chest feels tight. He can hear the blood rushing in his ears as his heart pounds, echoing the dull throbbing at the base of his skull. There is an uncomfortable tingling in his fingertips. 

Thankfully, no one tries to follow him. There is no pounding at the door or jiggling of the knob. He’s not sure what he would have done if someone did try to get in, but he’s sure there would have been blood. Exhaling slowly, Donnie steps towards the bathroom, mindful to stay close to the wall and out of the range of the camera’s ever watchful eye. Glittering gems trail in his wake, silent as they fall to the carpet. The sting as they’re pulled from his skin feels good. It feels real in a way very little else has today. 

He leaves the beautiful, glittering gown in a heap on the bathroom floor. His hands are steady as he turns the faucet, water gushing forth and filling the air with steam almost immediately. For a long while, he sits on the side of the tub and just watches the water as it circles the drain, breathing in the steam and the lingering smell of the shampoo he used when he last showered.

The water burns when he finally steps beneath its strong spray. His back tingles at the heat and the pressure, but it does not hurt. He thinks about the stranger in the living room, and wonders what he plans to do during the so-called medical intervention. His hands do not shake even though his lungs feel too small inside his chest. He takes his time. Thankfully the Capitol never runs out of hot water.

When he leaves the quiet sanctity of the bathroom, he’s not surprised to find Draxum in his room. The man is standing by the floor to ceiling window, which has been made clear again, and is staring at the city beyond. There’s something thoughtful and fond in his gaze, though Donnie couldn’t begin to guess at what he might be thinking as he looks out at the glittering expanse of white and silver. He clears his throat, impatient to get this over with, and Draxum turns slowly to face him.

“I’d rather this be fast,” he says simply, arms crossed tight over his chest, refusing to look Draxum in the face. 

“It should be a simple matter, as long as you haven’t caused any undue damage to yourself,” Draxum concedes with a tip of his head. Dark pink hair cascades over his shoulders with the movement, silky and long. Teal lines his eyes and lips, a strangely vibrant pop of color against his dark skin and dull grey clothes.

“Close the window.” 

Draxum arches an eyebrow at being ordered around but thankfully complies, and the late evening sunlight is dampened as the window goes opaque again. Donnie grits his teeth and stands by the foot of the oversized bed, wishing there was a chair or a desk or something besides a bed in this stupid room. He feels vulnerable. He hates it. 

“Shirt off,” orders Draxum, and the cold clinical tone he uses is actually almost enough to soothe some of the nerves sparking inside Donnie’s chest, screaming that this situation holds the hallmarks of both stupid and dangerous. Donnie shrugs his shirt off, but keeps it clutched tightly in his hands. Draxum slips on a pair of gloves, not looking at him. “Turn so I can examine your back.”

There is no gasp of shock as he takes in the scarred expanse of flesh and the metal exo-spine. He doesn’t even hum with interest or ask how a boy from the Districts could have come into possession of such a piece of technology. All he does is press forward, far too close for Donnie’s comfort. He can feel each of the man’s cool breaths on his back and feel the press of latex covered fingers as he examines the seam where skin and metal meet. Donnie grits his teeth and tries not to snap. 

“You don’t seem surprised by it,” he says instead, eyes trained on the ceiling, trying to take deep breaths to calm himself. Draxum scoffs, and his fingers press a little harder, almost to the point of pain. His gloved hands trace the metal spine, and Donnie feels his legs tingle. He hates it he hates it he—

“Why would I be surprised?” Draxum demands as he prods at one of the keloid scars on his shoulder. “I made it, after all.”

[lovverletters]

👉👈 yandere serial killer...??? Maybe?? Like just this big scary dude with a mask and a big fuck all weapon like a butcher's knife or something and hes so big and scary but he sees his darling as he's just head over heels in love and obssessed and stalks them and makes sure they are safe.

Maybe leaves gifts as a way to try and court his darling even (trial and error style)

So like he leaves maybe a dead animal like a fucking cat cause he's this kinda survival guy and he's trying to provide food but darling is freaked out, so he tries again with something else maybe bones. Doesn't work. Tries to figure out what they like and tries again with their favorite flower or something.

Like he's out of touch with society cause again big serial killer who likely lives out in the woods, kills people who get to close to his home etc so he's really trying to win over his darling who lives closer to the town/city or something.

Just.... I just love big scary man who is so scary and mean but is ONLY nice and soft to his darling and tries to be so gentle, especially if his darling is much smaller than him.

No pressure if you dont wanna do this! Just!!! Giving out some ideas!

♡♡♡

♡Bunny

Yandere! Serial Killer

A/N : thank you for requesting! I changed a few things if you don't mind💖 this is like an intro for him? I'll write more if people like this dude

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, murder, mentions of dead animal.

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

"─yet another body has been discovered near a park at Heartfelt Avenue this morning. The police were alerted to the scene after a man who was walking his dog stumbled upon the deceased body covered with deep cuts that were shaped into a heart. This marks the twelfth victim of the serial killer, 'Lovelorn' that has left communities in fear──"

The news forecaster were cutted off as [Name] switch the television off. Their stomach churned with uneasiness at the reports of the new killing. With the serial killer still on the loose, god knows who'll be next?

It could be them.

It's a terrifying thought but a probable possibility. All of the bodies were found near their place of living, meaning that the killer is not far from their area. Moving away is not a choice for them, they could barely make enough money to stay afloat.

[Name] will have to put up with the murderous maniac's antics until they were caught and placed behind bars.

"Shit── I forgot I have to cover for Stacey today!" They cursed out, hurriedly changing into their horrendous work uniform.

Working a late shift at a cafe wasn't exactly their choice. [Name] usually worked the day shift── stressful but far better than being all alone at night when there's a lunatic who's going around stabbing people. Their coworker Stacey had an emergency today and had practically begged [Name] to cover for her shift as no one would take up on it.

[Name] don't blame them, no one in their right mind would voluntarily throw themselves in a situation where they would ended up in a news headline.

However, adulting is hard and it drains your sanity slowly and [Name] already lost theirs a long time ago. Plus, they really need more money otherwise they'll have to live off cup noodles.

What ever could go wrong? The killer had just slain a person today, they couldn't possibly attempt to do it again could they?

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

Everything went wrong.

It had been mind numbingly boring shift, the cafe were deserted at night with only a few people coming in and getting out as soon as they got their drinks.

[Name] were tempted to just sleep through their shift in the break room. Their boss won't care──probably.

"Can't something interesting happens right now? I'm bored out of my mind──" On cue, the lights suddenly begun flickering before shutting off.

Fuck. They're not bored anymore.

[Name] jolted in their place when the main door slammed to a close and their heart stopping momentarily as they saw a figure running towards the backdoor entrance.

They raced towards the exit──there's no way they're going to investigate it! They value their life more than this store they worked at──and try to pry the door open but discovered to their horror that it has been jammed!

Before they could attempt to break the glass door with a steel chair, they heard a noise from their former place behind the counter. [Name] eyes widened in fear at the sight of the figure they'd seen running earlier.

The man was muscular and had a red horned mask on, in his hand was a large butcher knife that serial killers loves wielding. Had their life not being in danger, [Name] would've laughed at how cliché this situation they're in.

"H─hey buddy, that's a nice looking knife you got there" [Name] says as they held onto the steel chair tighter, ready to wield it as a weapon if needed to.

The killer only stalked further in silence, ignoring [Name]'s remarks. He only stopped once they reached a good distance from each other and [Name] were confused, is he fucking with them?

Their confusion only furthers when the killer drops a fucking dead rabbit in front of them. Horrified beyond belief, [Name] looked at the horned masked man who stared at them as if he's waiting for a praise.

"Wh──wha..?" They could only croaked out timidly.

"It's for you" The killer spoke in his deep voice, elaborating no further.

Their eyes almost bulged out of their sockets as he dropped a human heart next to the dead rabbit. [Name] felt their knees weakened as they fell on the ground, disturbed at the sight before them.

Mustering whatever courage they have left within them, they asked the killer that's towering over them.

"Wha──what are these f──for?" Stumbling over their words from how terrified they were.

The killer, holding a flower in his hand──they looked freshly cut from the stem──lowered to their level of ground and spoke in his gravely voice that's strangely laced with a certain gentleness and love.

"M' courting you cause' I love you"

«────── « ⋅ʚ💌ɞ⋅ » ──────»

[jiminrings]

if-then

pairing: jungkook x reader

wordcount: 7k

glimpse: you're an alien in prince jungkook's planet — both literally and figuratively.

alternatively, jungkook gives his nickname for you to someone else in a fit of anger, and you've never been more upset.

[ fluff, angst, painfully oblivious n dense alien koo, mutual pining (yes MUTUAL!!!!), the glaring concept of not being good n whole enough to deserve love (yikes but i Swear it gets better), mentions of injuries ]

notes: after being asked for literal years to write an alien au, it's finally here!!!! mwah thank u for patiently waiting :D

as always, lmk what you think <3 send in feedback n love to my askbox anytime!!

Jungkook’s fond of appraising things.

He’s fond of assigning values to things that may or may not hold some bit of importance to his life, whether its value proves itself in the present or the future. Jungkook likes setting his literal ducks in a row, and the little inanimate yellow tokens that his brother brought back from Earth serve as a discreet (not really, though) reminder that he may have some hoarder tendencies.

Jungkook’s not really a hoarder-hoarder; it just happens that he likes keeping things, sometimes for no apparent reason at all.

He likes swiping the flashlights that the night guards use to stash in his own personal “emergency” (not that there’s ever been one, nor will there ever be) cabinet, just because he wants to be prepared for a natural catastrophe that won’t probably ever happen in his area. He’s already seen a couple of films that humans have made, and if ever comes a time that Planet Twell has a dinosaurian monster battle it out with a gigantic prehistoric ape, Jungkook’s proud to say that he has a couple flashlights for him and his brothers to use.

In addition, Jungkook likes picking flowers just before they go out of season. His eldest brother’s already cussed him out for it, but he’ll still do what he does best (?), if best means “preserving” the flowers by drowning them in water every ten minutes so they wouldn’t wilt and he’d still get to see them during off-peak days.

Prince Jungkook likes appraising things in his own definition and pace. They’re never categorized in his head for what they actually do, but for what kind of unexplainable fulfillment fills his chest whenever he thinks about the item.

The youngest prince of Twell didn’t like it when there was a commotion at the lily field and the citizens ran out to see what it was about, instead of eating their slices of cake with the fondant that he made out of scratch. Jungkook didn’t like the fondant either because there must be something insanely wrong with itself (or it’s just that he made it just as bad), but he didn’t like being alone either when finding out about the taste.

He didn’t like seeing the tiger lilies he planted himself squished underneath an unknown figure, who may or may not have fallen from the sky, judging by the way you’re wincing alone with no aircraft, no parachute, nor any other person with you.

Jungkook didn’t like seeing you, an alien, who’s just as confused with the entire ordeal. You can’t remember anything about how or why you’ve gotten here — all you know is your name and who you are, and unexpectedly so, the first prince who’s gotten to where you are isn’t so thrilled about the fact.

He’s fond of appraising things, and although he’s not extremely excited about you just as he had been when Yoongi brought home trinkets from him during his trip to Earth (including the very seeds for the tiger lilies you’ve destroyed), he’ll make do.

Jungkook will try and make you mean something, if not everything, to him.

.

.

.

Prince Jungkook has come to learn that you’re part human.

You’re neither fully his kind nor his type (or atleast that’s what he thinks so) and he doesn’t know what to feel about that. He doesn’t know what to feel about only the slight panic that filled you knowing that it’s still unexplained of how or why you’re in Twell; even more, he doesn’t know what to feel that you’re neither scared nor intimidated by him.

You don’t know what to feel either when Jungkook, who’s only mildly shocked about your existence in general, delivers his first question to you and it’s not of the sort that you expected. He looks soft and round, unlike the hearsay about his kind that only amounts to half of you. He doesn’t look aloof and unaccepting at all — if anything, he looks at you like you’re the one who’s cruel instead of him.

Jungkook almost completely does not care about who you are or where you’re from, but what he cares about is if you have any trinkets with you that he could possibly have. Out of anything he could possibly solicit from you, he only asks for so little, no matter how odd.

“T-trinkets?” you squeak, brows raising in surprise. “I’m sorry, Prince Jungkook — y-you’re asking if I have trinkets so you could have them?”

“Yeah,” he nods, lips pursed and cheeks puffed out as he confirms your confusion. “It’s my birthday, and I want to have a trinket.”

“Oh,” you blink once, twice,  a small smile playing on your lips to replace the fact that you’ve been confused for the entire half hour since you came back to consciousness. “Happy birthday, prince.”

“I see.” 

“It’s thank you,” you mutter automatically, coughing lightly when he only knits his brows at you. He’s cute this way — innocent, even. “I-I mean you’re supposed to say thank you when someone greets you, or when someone does something nice for you in general.”

“Okay. My brother forgot to teach me that,” Jungkook hums in recognition, eyes briefly glowing with a bluish hue before he regains his composure. “Thank you.”

You wonder if staring is also frowned upon in this planet.

You wonder if it would get you a mean glare or a sarcastic snicker if you were to stare at Prince Jungkook a little longer without any thoughts floating in your brain, except for the fact that you are completely unaware that you’re already zoning out on him. 

You wonder if it would be wrong for your eyes to take in every single detail of him from his short hair that softly falls onto his forehead, to his supposed birthday attire that only consists of a white button-up, to his gleaming royal jewelry that rightfully so, only looks like it would belong to him and him only.

“Trinket?” he reminds you, head tilting and eyes widening as he cranes his neck to look at you beyond the table that separates the both of you.

“Oh! U-uhm,” you scour your pockets immediately just to present something, and bluntly put, you haven’t even checked your well-being, much less the possessions you have on yourself. You feel more than relieved to know that it isn’t empty, because oddly enough, you’d feel a little upset— a little down if you were to disappoint a prince you just met not more than an hour ago. “I have this handkerchief, I guess.”

“Perfect!” Jungkook exclaims, leaning to grab the baby blue square from you that’s embroidered with your initials that are unfamiliar to him. He clutches it into his hand tightly with a smile on his face, the happiness later dwindling when he realizes he has no clue of what he’s holding. “What is it supposed to do?”

You blank at that, meekly scratching your temple. “Nothing, I think. It’s just there for most people, but I’ve never had to use it.”

“You’ve never had to use it, but you still take it with you?” he attempts to clarify, a slight frown embedded into his lips as he looks down on your averagely prized possession.

“I don’t mean never as in never ever, and I’ve used it a couple of times like everyone else does, but it’s just-…” you trail off, shrugging helplessly because you can’t describe the concept of nothing to him easily. “It’s just there.”

You’re more than fatigued and a lot more confused (albeit less worried) about the semantics of your presence here in Twell, specifically in Prince Jungkook’s office, but the latter doesn’t seem to take mind as he takes you with an open mind.

“Okay. Thank you. I’ll have it,” he announces, shifting his eyes between you and your (his now) handkerchief that he’s slowly and hesitantly unraveling, only to put back into its original square form after every move.

“You will?” you almost snort, a tiny bit amused that a prince is clenching your handkerchief like its the most interesting thing in the galaxy.

“Yes,” he hums distractedly, looking up at you as he lightly scratches the embroidered teddy bear at the corner of the fold. “I will have you too.”

“You will?! You’re not going to dispose me or anything?” you straighten immediately, eyes more frantic and disbelieving to hear that you’re being taken care of (or something of the sort) than just awhile ago when you were unsure of your fate. “Why?”

“Don’t know,” Jungkook shrugs just as easily as you do. “I just want to.”

( ♡ ) 

Prince Jungkook isn’t so bad, and neither is Twell.

The planet isn’t so bad in the sense that although you don’t feel the most welcome you have ever been in your entire life, there’s a recognition that seeps into your bones that some of them, if not most, would set out a plate for you if ever Jungkook came into their homes. He’s the social butterfly of his family; the baby lamb that’s set out into the field to check up on everyone else and act as a mannequin of sorts that’s a little less superficial, and a little more warm.

Jungkook isn’t so bad either in the sense that although it’s the bare minimum to do so, he doesn’t throw his kindness back to your face even in the most critical situations, with now being the sole exception.

With the exception of now, Prince Jungkook has not ever acted rashly towards you. He wasn’t annoyed with you when you kept asking him questions of what it would mean to act as his security detail, and he wasn’t irked either when your questions about your heritage (and his by extension) toed personal lines that no one else would dare cross.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never acted rude towards you. He wasn’t as guarded with your existence like his older brothers were; as a matter of fact, he even came to your defense when some of them theorized that you were only here in their planet to act as a precursor for their downfall.

With the exception of now, Jungkook’s never been this cruel; with the ultimatum of his pride over your heart, he’s never made you feel this different and alienated from him — with, of course, the exception of now.

Heartbreak is a human emotion.

The weakness of the concept is disturbingly human and vulnerable. There’s no escape from it, even if the said percentage of human in your blood is barely half and could light a candle to your more evolved, far more powerful Twellian genes. It’s a sickening emotion to feel, much more have it get you carried away from what you have to do at hand.

The grip that said heartbreakhas on you is unimaginable, far more different than what your people, not humans, tell you how it’d feel like. There had already been an uproar when it was announced that you were appointed as Prince Jungkook’s guard, the news of an impure Twellian bearing the coveted position receiving every reaction possible — from fear, to distaste, and even to genuine amazement.

All of the kingdom’s advisers had theorized that despite you of being impure heritage, youwere superior in terms of physical capabilities. With everything else you’ve been theorized to lack at, you bite at the possibility that the ache in your chest is attributed to your stunted emotions.

You feel painfully human. You feel what heartbreak is, and compared to what others have made it out to be, it’s an emotion that you can’t put into words.

“You can’t, Jungkook,” you firmly say once more with your ears ringing, not because the volume of the club makes you want to get down on your knees, but because you’ve perhaps heard something far worse; far more grating, and far more overwhelming than what your heart could even bear. "All of your brothers specifically insisted for me to bring you back before midnight."

They say that your hearing’s supposed to be better. They say that you could see far more colors than what your alien counterpart could ever do. They say that for everything else you lacked, you made up for with the way you’re more physically advanced and therefore adept to protecting the planet’s youngest prince.

No one’s ever said that you’ll be safe from Jungkook himself.

"Jungkook, let's go home. Please," you plead through your teeth, the word you’ve last spoken being the latest term you’ve taught him. Jungkook, along with everyone else, is not familiar with begging; they’re not familiar with desperation so wrung out, there’s actually a word made just for it.

Jungkook only scowls at you, eyes turning a bright red as opposed to his usual pink allotted for you. "Butt out," he murmurs, tightly crossing his arms as his nostrils flare involuntarily. ”You promised me I could be out tonight."

You’re starting to get over the heartbreak little by little, the tantrum thrown by the young prince making you indifferent. 

Maybe you just misheard a few minutes ago — maybe, it was only a fluke and you didn’t hear it correctly the first time. Maybe it’s only your faulty impureness that made you susceptible to just hearing your nickname out of nowhere. Maybe, it’s not heartbreak that you were feeling, but rather only a subdued version of it by seeing Jungkook disappointed at you doing your job.

It’s your fault, you guess. Perhaps it’s the fault of the bustle of the club and the hundreds of dialects you could hear all at once finally got to you, overwhelming you to the point that you heard Jungkook calling for your name, despite not looking at you all.

You’re about to plead even more for the both of you to go back already; to save him from a lecture from all of his brothers and for you to be spared an even harsher scolding because they think you’ve gone too soft for him — but then you hear it. Again. 

Jungkook clenches his jaw tightly, eyes glowing a bright magenta before he opens his mouth.

"Come on, princess," he calls you by his term of endearment for you, yet his hand is outstretched for the female Twellian on his side.

He’s not calling you — he’s not even paying attention to you. Jungkook isn’t giving you a shred of his focus but he wants you to hear him call someone else the endearment he had playfully made up for you, to which you grew accustomed to without fail. He wants you to see how he gives it to someone else easily, the syllables falling from his tongue easily getting into the girl’s head.

Jungkook wants you to know how angry he is over you doing your job, he hits you where it hurts. He has no idea what heartbreak is supposed to feel like, but he doubts that you’d even feel that emotion over what he’s done — and if you actually do over something seemingly simple (for him atleast), he could only think that everyone else is exaggerating what it felt like.

Your heart, whatever is human of it, skips. It tightens and it loosens alarmingly so, almost as if you have no control for the liquid hurt that compromises you.

“I’ll show you a good time tonight, princess,” Jungkook whispers to her ear loudly for good measure, eyes darting up at you, only for him to see that you’ve been watching the whole time. 

You almost can’t tear your eyes away until Jungkook crashes his lips into hers, your nickname easily falling out of his lips as if the endearment is free for everyone; as if it’s never been yours in the first place and you only borrowed it out of desperation.

Your whole flight home is quiet.

Jungkook makes it back home before midnight, but you don’t.

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s been looking for you the whole day.

He’s been looking for you since he woke up, and that was fifteen ungodly hours ago when he had risen in a cold sweat. Jungkook felt sick to his stomach, and despite his insistence that something must be severely wrong with him for him to feel that way, the palace doctor (along with every other physician, healer, and reader he knew of) confirmed that nothing was out of place.

Jungkook’s supposedly okay, yet it feels like every part of him is being wrung dry. There’s an ache to his chest that renders him stupid because he feels like he’s forgotten every word, every lesson, and every vaguest bit of semblance that would detail about what he felt.

All of a sudden, Jungkook feels like he’s forgotten what the palace looks like. It’s as if he’s forgotten how tiles are supposed to feel cold on bare feet and how bleak his days are when he doesn’t have you by his side, even if the palace is also occupied by his brothers and the grounds are teeming with staff.

The young prince suddenly feels that he’s forgotten the very layout of his home because his mouth is agape at each room he walks in, simply because you’re not there. He’s practically turned the palace upside down just to grab a whiff of you somehow, and yet you’re nowhere to be found. 

Nothing from his or his brothers’ belongings are missing. There’s not a single piece of furniture that’s tilted askew. Nothing has been taken from Jungkook except his peace of mind and the capacity to just stay still because your sudden disappearance unsettles him like no other.

.

.

.

You’re back home, except you’re no longer dressed in the same outfit you left him in. 

Your uniform’s been ditched for something more casual — something more worn and lived in to the point that it looks like a shirt that’s never been yours in the first place. The sight of you, dressed in clothes that’s not yours, puts a bitter taste to Jungkook’s mouth.

He’s never been that selfish before. He’s generous and lenient as far as a prince could go, and yet he’s never felt this territorial over something seemingly as trivial as a shared garment.

The concern feels too vulnerable to the point that only a silly human, something Jungkook’s not, would consider it as a burden.

“Where were you?” he asks with the gentleness he didn’t think he’d possess after being worried shitless about you, the panic he had harbored for the longest time immediately dissipating at you.

Jungkook wants to be mad at you so, so, so badly. He wants to be angry at the way it was irresponsible for you to be alone because after all, your strength wouldn’t compensate for the gleaming fact that you’re not from here in the first place.

“I was on my leave,” you answer simply, keeping your hands behind your back as if this was any other outing with Prince Jungkook and not just Jungkook, the same man who’d call you princess for fun and hold your hand just for the sake of it.

“I didn’t say you could be on leave,” he lowers his voice, jaw tightening at the sight of you being indifferent towards him.

“I asked your brothers.”

Jungkook feels that sickness again. He feels that tinge of metal that lingers in the roof of his mouth and he wants to spit it out in front of you just to see if he’d find something else that’s not the sensations he’s been experiencing since you came around; if he’d find something else that’s not your doing yet affects him just as much.

“What if I needed protecting, hm? What if something happened to me while you were gone?” Jungkook half-taunts, shrinking on himself despite doing his hardest to appear big by crossing his arms.

“I knew you were in good hands, prince,” you tense, the tide that comes with your tone washing over Jungkook until he drowns in the realization that you were there while she was in his quarters. “I made to sure to hear that you were in very good company before I left.”

( ♡ ) 

Jungkook’s on a self-imposed break from his duties.

The prince’s duties almost exclusively involved chatting and being charismatic in general, along with the occasional goodwill event wherein he had to be all over the place just to take care of things, and not once did he ever take this long of a radio silent break — or atleast that’s what one of his brothers said.

He’s been cooped up in his room since you came back two weeks ago. Despite your absence (if you could even call it that) that barely lasted for an entire day, along with your confrontation just spanning within minutes, it’s been theorized by one of Jungkook’s brothers, again, that it’s because of your doing.

The youngest prince is theorized to be sulking over you and you simply cannot believe it.

You refuse to believe that Jungkook is bedridden with sadness because to begin with, his kind isn’t even supposed to feel such type of intense emotion. He shouldn’t be swayed by you — he shouldn’t be preoccupied with such pathetic, human emotion that you thought only you could feel because of him.

You rebuff the idea that he’s paralyzed with guilt, not only because you feel that it’s physically impossible for him to be, but because it’s him. Someone of Jungkook’s power and influence wouldn’t be so ridden with guilt that he refuses to show his face to you because he’s ashamed of hurting you.

You reject with your whole heart each and every idea that his brothers pitch you. You stay stationary with Jungkook and yet you will yourself to amount to something, even if it isn’t for him, just so the sickening feeling of being replaced won’t ever creep up to you.

You’re in love with him and it’s terrifying.

What’s even more terrifying is that you’re not the only one who knows so.

“I suggest not falling in love with Jungkook.”

You look up so sharply, your neck aches at the speed. Yoongi stands above you with a perfunctory smile, and with just the tiny bit of effort for him to come near you almost makes you forget that he’s Jungkook’s brother who had been particularly vocal about being wary of you.

“I’m sorry?” you murmur in disbelief, eyes wide and unblinking as you take into account his perfect tone.

“It’s obvious, you know?” he smiles tightly, pulling a chair to sit himself down across from you. Yoongi looks relaxed as he takes you in, almost as if he hasn’t spent half a year avoiding you. “I’ve seen the way you look at my brother. I’ve seen it over and over again when I was sent for a mission on your planet.”

You want to ask him why he’s telling you this. You want to ask badly why he’s saying this now when you’ve been certain for the longest time that your adoration for Jungkook wasn’t apparent in a land of creatures that don’t know what love, in your own terms, is supposed to look like.

You want to ask Yoongi why it shouldn’t be Jungkook, but you can’t bring yourself to — not because you know the answer deep down in your subconscious, but because you’re afraid that he would only make sense—

That he’d only solidify why Jungkook should never be in your orbit.

“Oh,” you swallow the lump in your throat. “How do you like my planet then?”

“You’re changing the subject.”

“I’m sorry, my prince,” you immediately apologize, looking down on your lap as you wait for the impeding lecture; maybe even the impending punishment (you’re not sure what it is, but you know it would hurt someway and somehow) that comes with loving the prince, even by the sidelines.

“Jungkook is a wildcard at best,” he trails off, exhaling heavily as he listens for the heartbeat in the room behind you that houses his brother. “He’s brash and stubborn. He’s driven by emotions we are not even supposed to have.”

If Yoongi stands up now and jiggles the knob to Jungkook’s room with just the slightest bit of force, he can guarantee that the latter would be falling face-down to the floor, just because of the way he has his ears pressed to the door.

Jungkook is moping and sulking and to this day, he does remain miserable — the aforementioned factors don’t stop him from being desperate and nosy.

“What I’m saying is that he’s weak, Y/N,” Yoongi sighs. “The strong isn’t for the weak. That’s always been the case.”

“I know I’m weak, prince, but I-…”

“What?” the prince laughs out loud, the smile on his face wide and cheery. He’s so amused with you that his eyes glow into pink, throwing his head back as he regains his composure. “Jungkook’s the weak one. Not you, obviously,” he snorts. “He’s basically a loser with a crown on his head. He’s the one who doesn’t deserve you and not the other way around.”

You’re not the one who’s being insulted, and yet it feels like it. Your throat tingles and your ribs burn at the sudden urge for you to protect Jungkook, even if he’s in no real threat; even if it feels like all the baser parts of you are coming together just to make sense of the way you grow simultaneously weak and strong for him.

Jungkook, the actual subject who’s being insulted and is proving his brother right by being weak because he’s wallowing in his room out of self-deprecation, sadly hums to himself in agreement.

“I’m not-…”

“Don’t refute it — that’s an order.”

“Prince Yoongi,” you relent, trying to find the right words. “May I ask why you’re telling me this?”

“Because Jungkook’s weak,” Yoongi answers simply. “I’m just saying that you don’t have to be weak with him and for him.”

( ♡ ) 

You’re eating dinner by yourself in the staff room when Jungkook walks in.

It’s the first you’ve seen of him in three weeks. He’s evidently moving on from what seems to have been a rough period for him, right when you’re at your lowest that you’ve ever been.

Prince Jungkook decides that after three weeks, he should take you by surprise and meet you in the staff room wherein you’re alone, pushing your dinner around your plate instead of doing any other menial task you’ve assigned yourself just so it would feel like you’re in use.

You’re just there. You just happen to be there and no one, even you, could do anything about it. You just happen to be there with no exact purpose and it’s gnawing at you from the inside out.

It feels all over again that your family is the runt of the entire extended bloodline. It feels that you’re not remarkable enough for your relatives to surround you and that you don’t amount to anything enough, in whatever aspect it is, to get a shred of attention that isn’t pity,

It feels like the sinking sensation in your chest wherein you have to see that all your mom could contribute to the table is her trusted homemade recipe during holidays, lost amongst a sea full of pre-ordered meals that only your relatives could afford. Like it’s how your dad’s side of the family is borderline batshit crazy and he’s the only one that turned out to be good, and you can’t do anything but watch strangers your have for blood relatives belittle you. Familiarly so, it’s like you’re a kid again with your siblings sitting on the carpet and cleaning up wrapping paper from gifts, not because the gifts are for you, but because you just happen to be there.

You feel like the alien that you are wherein you don’t belong; wherein your family has to sit on the spare chairs dug up from the basement, situated on a portable table outside of the actual, solid dining table where everyone’s sat. 

Jungkook sits with you at that dusty, old portable table. He sits himself on the flimsy chair that’s only used for stepping and for laundry.

Jungkook sits with you, not because he just happens to be there, but because he’s there for you.

“I’m… sorry for calling someone else princess.”

“It’s no problem,” you murmur, putting your fork down as you keep your hands glued to your knees underneath the table.

“But there is a problem,” Jungkook counters, lowering his head to get you to look at him yet you don’t budge. “I’m not okay with calling anyone else princess other than you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“Then suit yourself,” you quip, even with your voice shaky and your vision blurry.

“I’m-…” Jungkook starts again, racking his brain for the limited vocabulary he has that surely isn’t enough to make up for his grave msitake. “I’m very sorry for making you feel bad. It must have hurt.”

“It’s no problem.”

“There’s a problem,” he insists. “I’m saying sorry because I hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me.”

“But I did,” he frowns, beyond confused to why you keep denying the fact that he’s hurt you in ways he can’t even imagine.

“You really didn’t.”

“Why do you not want me to say sorry?” Jungkook questions, voice raising yet he still looks confused— innocent, even. “Did I… hurt you that much?”

It’s the last straw for you. The pure innocence in Jungkook’s words is and should be the last straw for you because it only makes you realize that he’d never understand you. It resonates in your head, more than ever, that you’ll never be able to understand him fully either because you’ll never be the same.

The only option the universe provides you is for you to love Jungkook halfway.

“You’ll have to excuse me, Prince Jungkook. I shall go back to-…”

“Can I not say sorry to you?” Jungkook bursts, darting his hand out blindly to get a hold on you before you leave.

“You can’t say sorry to me because all of this would feel real,” you ramble, shaking your head vehemently. “You should not say sorry to me because that would mean that I’m hurt because I love you.”

Jungkook looks at you innocently with his eyes wide and lips parted, blissfully unaware of the name to the sensation that keeps tugging at his chest to the point that it feels like it would burst open, yet above all else, he still dives in head-first.

“Can you not love me, princess?” he tilts his head. “Is it not allowed?”

( ♡ ) 

Yoongi’s words lie heavily on both you and Jungkook.

The prince’s sentiment stays on your chest like a paperweight that only grows heavier the more that you try to push it off. You know Yoongi means well, no matter how his words come across otherwise, but the longer that you think about his own suggestion regarding his brother, the more you feel unsure.

Jungkook’s made complete sense of his brother’s words on the other hand, and instead of being filled with a type of rage that only bubbles up when being looked down on, oddly enough, he comes to the truth quite easily.

He knows the truth that he’s weak despite painting himself the opposite, and he feels it the most now that you’re the one who’s distancing yourself from him. Jungkook feels like swallowing the sun and chasing it down with water when you respond to princess, even if it’s jokingly uttered by his brothers and not said sincerely by him alone.

He knows the truth that he’s the weak one in the family, if not the weakest, whenever he stands next to them. Jungkook may be the poster prince for the citizens but he knows the most out of everyone that he’s not as vital to the kingdom as the others are. He may get an assigned seat at the actual, solid dining table, but he knows that he’s not at the head of it.

He knows he’s weak, with and for you, and that’s never bothered him until it actually did.

Jungkook’s eyesight isn’t as good as yours.

Unlike you, he’s restrained by the entirety of his Twellian blood from immediately focusing his gaze on anything. There’s a lag that registers whenever he fixes his sight on anything, just like everyone else but you, and that hadn’t been a bother to Jungkook the whole time.

He had falsely assumed that since you’re the only one who’s different here, the only exception in the planet by being impure and partially human, you’d be the one who’ll have a hard time adjusting your daily life to his — not the other way around.

Jungkook, who had not once ever felt insecurity before, suddenly feels inferior. He feels like dirt and yet he’s angry, not because of the fact that he comes second to your abilities, but because he can’t do shit when it comes to you.

The prince’s eyesight isn’t good enough to notice the tiny little expressions that litter your face whenever something remotely intriguing happens to you. His hearing isn’t on par with yours because he can’t register the laugh in your voice as quickly as you could recognize his. He’s not on the same level as you and it’s only now that it bothers him—

The realization creeps into Jungkook, slowly yet unsettlingly, when he sees the cut on your cheek; the liquor of inferiority, chased down by Jungkook’s own rage, only hits him the moment he sees that a nasty bruise is blossoming by the corner of your eye.

Jungkook grips your jaw lightly out of nowhere, making you look up at him unexpectedly when you had been only preoccupied with fixing him his drink. The prince, no matter the unmistakeable rage that’s brewing in red, is the softest he’s ever been when it comes to addressing you.

“Who hurt you?” 

He has all his attention on you and it’s almost sickening with the way he doesn’t want to break off. Jungkook’s hand is still on your jaw and his eyes are still fixed on yours and yet his mind, whatever remains rational of it and not just vengeful, is going a million miles per hour.

“Get your hands off me,” you spit, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the vitriol that spills out of him so clearly, the air around both of you shifts.

“I asked you a question,”Jungkook repeats, putting is hand on your wrist firmly instead. He makes the grave mistake of looking down, though, because as soon as he realizes that there’s blood caked underneath your nails and that your knuckles are stained with your own blood, Jungkook can no longer hold himself back. “Who. Hurt. You.”

Jungkook’s reflexes are slow, but the moment your bottom lip trembles in vulnerability and pure bitterness, he feels as if time has caught on to the point that it’s only your anguish that sharpens his senses.

His feelings, even.

“If I tell you, would it make a difference? If I’m considered weak, Jungkook, then that means you’re even weaker,” you scoff, eyes trained on the ground with your head low so you could muffle the tremble in your voice; not that it would make your prince any less attuned to you.

Jungkook’s eyes remain narrowed at you, breathing heavily as you only state the facts not to insult him, but to remind the both of you of your place — or whatever is left clear of it because Jungkook can’t even think straight the longer that he looks at you hurting.

“What, prince? What are you gonna do about it?” you spit as the last resort, standing up abruptly to storm off and make an escape for it just once so you’ll be free of the burden of being yourself in Jungkook’s existence, yet he doesn’t let you.

The grip that the prince has on your arm is unstable yet unyielding at the same time, as if it’s taking everything in Jungkook to remain standing despite wanting to hunch over by the unexplainable tremor that roots from his chest.

(It is taking everything in him.)

“Burn,” he utters. “I’ll burn everything.”

“You’re-…”

“Weaker than you? I know that,” Jungkook interrupts, his lips set in a straight line as he lets himself be swept by the current that is you. “All the more reason to do everything for you then.”

The young prince doesn’t even break his gaze from you once, even if his pupils are trembling and his teeth are chattering out of the sheer trepidation that comes with being scared for someone else who carries your heart with them.

He doesn’t break his gaze from you, even for the briefest second, as he fishes out his (your) handkerchief from his pocket that’s there, not because it just happens to be, but because it’s allotted for you.

To love and to be loved is to feel the sun from both sides, and Jungkook no longer wants the star to swallow him whole because he doesn’t want you to be burned.

Jungkook wants to love you all the way.

[theholypeanut]

♪ To All The Girls You Loved Before ♪

Cw: gn!reader, Otoya slander, Otoya being a lovesick simp, Blood, mentioning of hooking up (not with reader), aged up characters (university), fluff?? kinda?? Mostly comedy I’d say, using words like whore or slut, but I promise it’s not serious I love Otoya, mentioning of STDs (guys why this cw gets weirder and weirder), Otoya is suggested to be bi here

1,3k words (I’m shocked too)

Birthday Fic for Otoya Eita!!

Otoya Eita was a whore. 

Everyone knew it - at least everyone at the university, in the football club, gym, probably within a 50 kilometers radius from the dorms as well, including supermarkets, flower shops, game arcades, and even the cinema workers (oh they probably knew the best, seeing him every week taking another girl on the same romantic comedy).

Well, it was not a secret, and it was neither something that made you hate or despise him. You had no opinion about him until you met him. 

And you met for the first time in the book shop, when you were looking into a new book by Yoko Ogawa.

Someone next to you dropped their book.

„Ouch, sorry” you heard a deep male voice. „I just accidentally dropped my modern feministic literature. My bad.” He picked up Bad Feminist by Roxane Gay from the floor. This scene was so ridiculous and obnoxious, you couldn’t hold the laughter. 

„Did you literally pick the closest book with the word feminist in it?” You asked amused. He cleared his throat. „No, I’m a big fan of…” he took a quick peak at the cover. „…Roxane Gay”

You smirked and raised your eyebrow. „Ooh really? How did you like Five Guys; My Story of the Polygamist Hexagon?” Eita didn’t even blink. „Actually this one is my favorite” he said with absolutely no shame in his voice. You rolled your eyes with a smile. „It’s not a real book, dumbass. I made it up.” 

Otoya was so used to interactions like this, that he didn’t feel offended at all. „Well sounds like a great read, maybe you should write something like this” he said, putting the book back on the shelf. „However if we start dating I don’t know if I want to have a… polygamist hexagon. Well, at least not with five guys”. He sent you a wink.

You looked at him with a mix of disbelief and amusement. „You are really something else, Otoya” you said, with a smile. „But I’m not gonna lie, that was probably the funniest and the dumbest conversation I had recently. Thanks” And you left him in between the shelves. 

In the beginning, Otoya was planning to just woo you into going on a date with him because you seemed cute. But that was the moment when he fell hard - this bright smile, laughter… He knew his pickup line was awful but you were not really mean to him. You didn’t look at him with disgust. Even more: He never saw the most gorgeous human being with such a beautiful laugh and right now he was dedicated to getting to know you. 

He started to come to the bookshop every single day - he was not obsessed enough to skip trainings (because he was not ready for Yukimiya to kick his ass) but even the elderly lady at the counter started to cheer up for him. 

„You know, young gentleman” she said one evening, seeing him looking in between the shelves. „They are a student at the university close by, I assume they are in their second year since they were buying some textbooks recently” she gave him a hint. The next day Otoya gave her a bouquet of the prettiest flowers he could afford. He was dedicated to finding you. If you knew who he was, then you probably study together. Or did he date your friend? Multiple friends? He hoped not your sibling or mom because that for sure would make things complicated when he will finally propose. 

Yes, this Otoya Eita, a town slut, was already preparing his wedding vows after one interaction. 

„I have no idea what’s their name” he whined to Karasu during the break. „They were the most beautiful person I ever saw…” 

„You say that about every second hook up, Eita” Karasu answered a little annoyed. It's been a week since he started making his failed love life everyone’s problem. Not like he wasn’t whining before, but usually it was after he cheated on a girl and she got angry, not before he even asked anyone out. „Also Jesus, why are you so fixated on the Feminist Book Stranger? You usually take rejection so lightly, I’m surprised to see you so…” 

„Pathetic?” Chigiri suggested, as he was drinking water nearby.

„Pitiful?” Yukimiya added. 

„…Lovesick” Karasu ended. Otoya signed dramatically. „You will be so jealous on my wedding, you will see”

„Well, I don’t think so” Chigiri said after taking another sip of water. „If they know your name, I assume they probably also know your dating history”

He knew. Otoya was well aware of his reputation, but till now he never really cared. Because he never expected to actually fall in love with someone, and even more he never was anxious that his soulmate might find him disgusting and pathetic. 

„At least check yourself for STDs before trying to get into your future spouse’s pants” Reo added after listening to the whole conversation. „I don’t think chlamydia is the best way gift you can give them on the first date.”

Otoya took a mental note that even if he felt a little offended, this was not the worst advice. 

And fate brought you together again, no later than the next day. 

You had an important essay due today and spent every possible moment studying and writing it. You kind of regret you had no time to read for fun anymore, only to drown under the amount of literature you had to read for your university lectures and tests, but there was no other way. There was one particular book you needed to borrow to finally end this monstrosity you’ve been creating, and then you are free… at least until the next essay. You took the turn to the university library. 

„You know, I think I achieved a new low” you heard a feminine voice. „I was looking for a fast hook up and even Otoya ghosted me. This one hurts. I think it's time for therapy or some shit, because if even him…” 

You smirked. Who knows if there are therapists in this city, who get another crying college girl or guy in their chair and can thank Otoya Eita for bringing in more than 20% of their revenue? 

You didn’t want to get caught eavesdropping, so you fast went to the door out of the building, the library was just minutes away. You pushed the door outside with a lot of force… and heard a bang. 

„FUUUUCK” you heard someone swearing right in front of you. It was almost as loud as the laughter that was accompanying it. „Right into your nose dude!” You heard the amused voice. You panicked. „Oh my god, I’m so so sorry” You slide through the door to the poor victim who was not other than… Otoya Eita. He froze for a second, considering if he just died and gone to heaven, that he heard your voice again. He looked up at your face, but his vision was still blurry. 

You took out the tissue from your bag. His nose was bleeding, so you gently pressed the tissue to his face. „Shit, do you have a concussion?” You asked panicked. Karasu stood next to you. „Just ask him something” he suggested, still amused by the situation. You thought for a second. „What's the capital of Malta?” The dark-haired guy looked at you both surprised and amused. „Okay but maybe ask him something he knows”

„I'm fine guys” they heard the weak voice. He looked at Karasu angrily. „Don't you dare flirt with the love of my life!” 

You looked at him confused, then looked at Karasu. „Yeah I think he has a concussion, maybe we should take him to the hospital.” 

Otoya’s nose stopped bleeding and his head was no longer spinning. Somehow you looked even more beautiful than the first time he saw you.

„How about you take me out for dinner, as an apology?” He sent Karasu „the” look. Tabito rolled his eyes in answer. „I’ll leave you two lovebirds here to flirt” he said and started walking away. You were too stunned to speak. You turned back to white haired guy still too confused with what is happening to digest his offer.

„Wait, are you serious right now?”

He smirked.

„So, how about tonight?”

There is gonna be part 2, this is a promise and a threat at the same time, because I had so much fun writing this crack fic

[writingonleaves]

it's so hard to watch everything i want (everything i was spinning down the drain) - trevor zegras

pairing: trevor zegras x original female character

warnings: swearing, angst-ish, mentions of cheating (not between the two main characters), self-loathing, fluff

based on: "bleach" by 5 seconds of summer + "the archer" by taylor swift. title from "bleach"

word count: 15.6k

author's note: tried my hand at writing trevor's pov and it was Hard. this one means a lot to me personally so i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it! takes place at least five ish years from now so future fic alert!! trevor is finally employed again and that motivated me to finish this LOL

*****

Trevor Zegras is good at a lot of things. Remembering names and faces is at the top of the list.

It kinda makes sense. He’s been meeting and shaking hands with people ever since he was a teenager, most of them wanting something from him in one way shape or form. It’s not completely a bad thing. He wouldn’t have gotten this far without knowing who he was talking to. 

So that’s why it’s such a surprise that it took him a whole damn hour to figure out why the wedding planner for Jack and Amelie’s wedding looked so familiar. Isabelle, she introduced herself as, and he keeps racking his mind to see if he knows an Isabelle, but he comes up empty.

As a groomsman, Trevor was expected to come to the venue earlier. He didn’t have to come a whole week earlier, but he had nothing else going on and the wedding’s in Michigan, so it wasn’t completely inconvenient for him. He just crashed at Jack and Quinn’s, to which the latter rolled his eyes at. But the soon-to-be-married couple were thrilled that he was coming early so they could put him to work, and he was more than happy to help out. 

It’s halfway through assembling floral centerpieces when he shoots his head up to the wedding planner across from him. “Belle Holloway?”

Belle looks up with a small smile. “Been a long time since anyone’s called me that.”

“Holy shit. I knew you looked familiar. It’s been so long.”

“Z, are you bothering Isabelle?” Jack calls out from another table. “Please don’t scare her away. She’s been our lifesaver the last year.”

Belle chuckles. “You don’t need to worry, Jack.”

“Yeah, Hughesy. Belle and I go way back.”

Amelie is passing by and hears that comment, raising her eyebrows. “You two know each other?”

“We grew up in the same town,” Belle explains, tying a ribbon around a bunch of flowers. “My brother was in Trevor’s grade in school. They played hockey together for a bit before Trevor got too good and left.”

“Belle was probably the smartest girl in school,” Trevor adds with a hint of pride in his tone. “Can’t say the same about her brother. Where did you end up going to college?”

“University of Michigan.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jack smirk. Weirdo. He literally didn’t even go to Michigan. 

Trevor whistles. “Still smart. Where is Connor these days? He went to UConn, right?”

“Yup. He’s with his wife in Chicago now. Doing something with finance.”

Trevor makes a mental note to reach out to his old friend the next time he’s in Chicago. “And little Lily?”

Belle chuckles. “Not so little anymore. She graduated from Parsons last year and works at Michael Kors as a designer.”

Trevor smiles knowingly. “Guess her styling Connor all those years paid off, eh?”

“Guess so.”

(Amelie and Jack are at another table working on centerpieces, overhearing this conversation. They give each other a knowing look as they keep eavesdropping. This is why Belle didn’t seem surprised during their initial consultation when they had to explain Jack’s hockey schedule and why he wouldn’t be able to adhere to the traditional timeline if he wanted to be at all the appointments. Little did they know, she already knew someone in the NHL)

She then asks about his family, because while Trevor was always her brother’s friend, their parents got to know each other pretty well to the point where they would go over to each other’s for dinner enough for her to remember. Trevor talks about how Griffin is off doing God knows what in Florida but having a good time at his sports marketing job and how Ava, who’s the same age as Lily, graduated from Elon and is now in the Philly area as a nurse. 

They’re now moving pots of flowers around as they venture into their lives post-grad. “So have you been in Michigan this whole time?” Trevor asks.

“Yeah, though I had a brief stint in Santa Ana. This wedding is my last one here, actually, so a fun one to end on.”

Trevor follows her eye-line at the soon-to-be-newlyweds, who are now decorating the photo station but more fucking around then decorating. Amelie’s slapping Jack’s shoulder as he laughs loudly. Trevor smiles at the sight. “They’re great, aren’t they?”

“They are,” Belle admits. “I’ve worked with a lot of couples, but they’re one of my favorites. From the fact that they’re organized and flexible and so kind and understanding to the fact that they seem to be super in love with each other.”

“You said this is your last wedding here?” Belle nods. “Where you off to next?”

Trevor notices her stiffening a bit, and he immediately wants to take the question back. But the discomfort leaves as fast as it came. “Not sure. Gonna do some last minute packing up and then go home to New York next week to reset and figure it out from there. Connor offered his guest room in Chicago so I might take that. I have some friends that are dispersed around the country as well.” She shakes her head and switches topics and he makes a mental note of her vague answer. “Enough about me. How about you, Mr. NHL? Not gonna lie, when I saw Jack’s list of groomsmen, I had to brace myself mentally when I saw your name.”

“Brace yourself? What does that mean?”

Belle chuckles and his smile widens at the sound. “It’s been awhile, but not everything is different. I’m sure you’re still the life of the party everywhere you go, which means you’re at high risk of intruding on my meticulous plans on the day. Mind grabbing those shears for me next to you?”

He passes her the shears, standing up straight. “Jack’s conned you. He is way worse than I am.”

“Jack is also the groom so he knows that he has to listen to what I say if he wants things to go well,” Belle says. “How have you been, though? Has Anaheim been treating you well?”

“It has. The team’s great. The weather’s great. The beach is right there. Very different from Bedford.”

“Congrats on a great season. The playoff run was fun to watch.”

His eyebrow shoots up. “You watched?”

She shrugs a bit sheepishly. “If a game is on, I’ll usually watch. It’s like white noise to me now, after going to Connor’s, and I guess your games growing up. I went to a couple of Ducks games during the two years I lived in Cali.”

“And you didn’t reach out?”

She wipes her hands on her jeans. “I…you were always more Connor’s friend than mine. Didn’t want it to be weird.”

“It wouldn’t have been,” he assures. “Next time, let me know and I’ll get you tickets. You still have my number?”

“I do.”

“Perfect,” Amelie then comes up and seems like she has a question. “I’ll let you ladies be. Where’s your fiance?” He asks the bride-to-be.

“Quinn just arrived, so probably making sure the bar is all good, since you guys have your weird ass drink preferences,” Amelie says. “We should be almost done here though. Just have a couple last questions for Belle and then we’ll head back.”

Trevor snorts. “Typical. I’ll go find them.” He turns back to Belle with a grin. “Good to see you, Belle. Don’t be a stranger.”

Belle smiles. “I’ll see you at the wedding.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior.” Trevor promises, before walking away. 

When things finally settle down a couple of hours later and he settles into one of the guest rooms for the night, he reflects back to his own childhood and memories of Isabelle Holloway, or Belle, as everyone used to call her. Brunette and green-eyed, Belle was decently quiet compared to him and Connor’s wild teenage boy energy, but she was talkative with her own friends and Trevor’s parents adored her. She loved Taylor Swift, and if Trevor looked into it deeper, her blasting her music around all the time probably got Trevor to like it purely through osmosis. She was always clean, happy to do the dishes and Trevor often caught her organizing the living room and basement without being asked. She was incredibly smart, always had her homework done before hanging out with her friends and seemed to always ace her classes with minimal difficulty. Even when Connor gave her shit just because he was the oldest sibling, she rarely dished it back. That kindness extended to all of Connor’s friends as well, including Trevor, even when they were loud and playing video games when she came home from school. Every memory he has of Connor growing up, Belle’s right around the corner.

Belle Holloway had always been too good to them. It’s a no-brainer that her profession is based on giving something to others.

He still follows Connor on Instagram, so he goes to his old friend’s page to find his sister’s page. She’s private, but he doesn’t hesitate on requesting her account. He goes to take a shower and brush his teeth and when he comes back to his phone, he’s delighted to see that she’s accepted his follow request. 

Thus begins his stalking. 

There’s not many posts to stalk — she only has 47 — but it does span the amount of years he lost touch with the Holloways. There are posts from her later high school years when Trevor had already left Bedford, and he smiles to himself when he sees the post from her high school graduation, with Connor, Belle and Lily all cheesing in one photo. There are various posts from her college years — she must’ve spent a semester or a summer abroad in Barcelona — mixed with some various travels from Yellowstone to Sweden to Miami. Then it gets less frequent after she graduates college, posts of the Michigan landscape, posts with friends on a night out, at a friend’s wedding, the rare photos of just herself. She notices there’s a guy in some of those posts, but no one’s tagged and the caption doesn’t reveal anything, so he figures it must be a friend or ex-boyfriend of some sort. 

One thing that hasn’t changed much, he thinks, is how beautiful she is. As he scrolls on her Instagram and thinks back to seeing her earlier today, he kinda can’t stop thinking about how beautiful she is.

The day of the wedding comes by and it’s an early start for the bridal party. Trevor rolls into the Planterra Conservatory at 8:47 a.m. with coffees for himself, Quinn, Luke and Jack while Cole had gotten coffees for himself, Nico and Alex earlier. The suits are already hung up by the window of the spacious room and beers have already been opened. 

“Starting off early, eh?” He sets down the coffees on the table. 

“It’s a big day,” Luke calls out from steaming everyone’s suits.

“That it is,” he stops by the chair Jack is sitting in and gives him a hug. “Congrats, man. You nervous?”

“Nah,” Jack smiles. “More excited than anything.”

Quinn grabs his coffee and sits down. “I stopped by the bridal suite just a few minutes ago. Amelie said the same thing.”

Jack lights up at the mere mention of her. “I’m just anxious to see her, to be honest.”

Belle walks in then, clad in a light green jumpsuit and a tan blazer, with a bright smile on his face. “Oh good, Trevor made it. Everyone all good in here? Do you guys need anything?”

Jack grins. “We’re all good here, Isabelle. Thank you. I’ll holler if we need anything. Promise.”

She shoots the groom a semi-skeptical look before nodding. “Okay. I’ll check back in, in 30 minutes.”

“Do you need any help at all?” Nico asks. 

She shakes her head with a thankful smile. “You all are too kind. I’m good. Michelle and I are manning the floor. She’s kinda doing my job better than I am, when she has her own bridesmaid duties to worry about.”

“Impossible.” Quinn remarks. “You’re fabulous at your job.”

Belle rolls her eyes fondly, and Trevor’s reminded that even though she’s the one running the show, she’s younger than a majority of the bridal party. “Flatterer.” She takes her phone out of her pocket and clicks her tongue. “Alright. I’m out.” She looks at Trevor with a pointed look. “Zegras. You better come find me if anything goes wrong.”

“Why are you entrusting that responsibility onto me?”

“Because I have so many stories about you that I could tell everyone if you don’t listen to me.”

Trevor gasps in mock offense. “Belle, oh Belle! Resorting to blackmail?”

The whole room laughs as she grins. She stops in front of him, a more serious look on her face. “Call me if anything goes wrong?”

“I gotcha.” He assures her with a firm nod and she shoots everyone one last grin before walking out. If his eyes linger on her, no one has to know. 

(Everyone in the room knows. He doesn’t notice them all giving each other knowing smirks)

Jack speaks up first. “Z, if you end up hooking up with my wedding planner, give her a good time at least. She deserves it.”

“Jesus Christ, Jacky.” Trevor groans as everyone cackles. Thankfully for him, they drop it after that. 

The next time he and Belle get to interact is after the ceremony — to which he couldn’t stop smiling watching one of his his long-time best friends marry the girl of his dreams, proudly watching at the front as they exchanged vows to love each other forever — when it’s time for pictures and Belle and the photographer are working together to direct everybody where they need to go. Belle stops directly in front of Trevor and focuses on fixing his boutonniere. Her tongue pokes out as she focuses on making it straight after several attempts. Even amongst a crazy day, he feels a sense of calm surrounding him. 

She huffs. “Why won’t your boutonniere stay still?”

He smiles down at her cheekily. “On my worst behavior.”

She snorts, before softening. “Thank you for earlier.” He knows she’s referencing when there was a minor mix up with the rings right before the ceremony was about to start and Trevor got it under control within 10 minutes. 

“Of course.”

She puts a piece of stray hair back on his head away from his forehead and he feels his heart flutter at her light touch. She smirks a bit. “On your best behavior today, actually. Like you promised.”

“Don’t count on it once the open bar hits.”

She laughs before moving on to fix Luke’s collar and Trevor gets a second to finally take a normal breath.

The next time he spots Belle is well into the reception, when the dance floor is full and the drinks are flowing and everyone is enjoying themselves. She’s nibbling on a slice of cake in the corner, eyes sweeping through the crowd with a small smile on her face

Trevor, who ditched his blazer after ‘Mr. Brightside’ brought the place down at least 7 songs ago, strolls over, hands in his slacks. “Haven’t seen you in a bit, Belle of the Ball.”

Her nose wrinkles. “No one’s called me that since I was 6.”

“A good wedding to end off on?” 

“I think so,” she smiles, staring at Amelie giggling as she pours a bottle of champagne into Jack’s mouth. “You having a good time?”

“The best. And I’ve been to a lot of weddings. You did beautifully.”

Belle waves him off. “All in a day’s work.”

“Do you still have fun at weddings? Since you have to work them?”

“Yes and no,” she admits. ‘Yes, because the end result is always worth it and seeing the happy couple live their day is always worth it. No because now when I go to weddings of my friends and family, it’s hard to turn my work brain off.” 

“Are you allowed to dance at your clients’ weddings?”

“I usually wouldn’t,” she tucks a piece of hair behind her ear.

“Make an exception for an old friend? To celebrate your last wedding in Michigan?”

She looks away for a second. “I don’t want to make Jack or Amelie feel weird.”

“Those two couldn’t care less. I’m sure they’d actually encourage it.”

He shoots what he hopes is an encouraging smile as he offers a hand. She looks at him for a couple of seconds before letting him help her up. 

It’s perfect timing as ‘Lover’ by Taylor Swift comes on and the once rowdy floor is calmer, with couples dancing with each other or families dancing with their kids. It’s a dance floor filled with love.

He guides Belle to put her arms around his neck as he carefully places his on her waist. 

“I told Connor about seeing you again.” She starts

“Oh yeah? What did he say?”

“He told me to tell you to hit him up the next time you’re in Chicago.”

“Was already planning on it.”

“He also said and I quote ‘if the next thing I hear is that Zegras is dating my sister, I will kill him.’” Trevor tips his head back in laughter as Belle chuckles. “He’s lucky I never dated any of his friends. He had some cute ones.”

“Was I one of them?”

“Nice try. I’m not blowing smoke up your ass, Trevor.” She says dryly. “Besides, I was kinda kidding. It’s not like you or any of his friends would’ve gone for me anyways.”

Now he’s confused. “What?” He thinks she’s joking, but from her face he realizes she’s not. “You do know that like, half of the hockey team had a crush on you, right?” She tips her head back in laughter as he squeezes her waist. “I’m not kidding. It annoyed Connor to no end.”

She snorts. “There’s no way.”

“Up to you whether to believe it or not. Just know that I never lie, Belle.”

She hums, and the way she’s looking at him makes his hands start sweating. He hopes she can’t feel it through her jumpsuit. “What you’ve done with your hockey career and everything, it’s really cool. I’m happy for you, Trevor. You deserve it.”

And he’s heard so many compliments about his career throughout his whole career, but it’s different coming from someone from his hometown. Someone who knew him before he left and knew what he was like before the NHL — before his days at the NTDP, even. Someone who has nothing to gain from complimenting him. 

“Thank you, Belle. That-that means a lot coming from you.”

She just smiles back before they fall into a comfortable silence and keep dancing. He twirls her and does an exaggerated dip that has her giggling. They keep dancing and dancing, even as the songs change tempo.

(Amelie, who’s resting her feet right by the dance floor, nudges Jack and gives him a look. She picks up a disposable camera and points it at them, before taking her phone and also taking a picture. She has an inkling that Trevor and Isabelle may want these someday)

“What are you up to before the season starts?” 

He shrugs. “I’m not sure, actually. I just need to be back in Anaheim for pre-season in three weeks.”

“Where are you staying?”

“Quinn and Jack have been letting me crash at their place. Don’t have an exact date of when I’m leaving yet.”

Belle snorts, though it’s paired with a smile that seems fond. “Still the same, huh, Trev?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your spontaneity used to stress my parents out, even back then. The reason they still liked you is because you could charm your way out of it.”

“I stressed Kurt and Susan out?” He says, actually worried.

“Oh, hush. It’s not that deep. My dad loves watching you play. There’s been many a family call where I hear a Ducks game on in the background. Unless it’s against the Rangers, of course, in which you don’t matter.”

“To be expected,” Trevor says, heart lifting at the fact that two people who used to drive him around so much still support him, even from afar. “Do they still live in Bedford?”

“Yup. Though with the amount of time my dad spends in White Plains golfing, you’d think they lived there now. He’s loving retirement, clearly.”

Trevor laughs. “I’ll have to hit up Kurt when I’m back for a couple rounds. Does Susan still make the best apple pie?”

“Yup. And everyone still raves about it when she brings it to parties.” 

“You think she’d make me a slice?”

“She’d bake you three pies and send you home with them to Julie and Gary.”

He grins. “Never knew little Belle was this sassy.”

“Because you wasted all your time with Connor.” She shoots back with a laugh. 

(Honestly, he thinks as he twirls her again, maybe she’s right. Who knows what could’ve been if he had seen Belle as more than just Connor’s quieter, talented sister.)

“You said you’re leaving next week?”

“Yeah. Just need to sort out some boxes to move to storage before driving back to New York.”

“You’re driving all the way back to Bedford?”

She laughs at his slight disbelief. “Well, yeah. It’s only a 10 hour drive.”

Suddenly, an idea pops into Trevor’s head, and before he can overthink it, he blurts it out. “What if I came with you?” She blinks, and he forges on. “I mean, I don’t have much going on and it’d be nice to go home before pre-season. I’ll help you load your car and pay for your gas and meals and-”

“Trevor, I-are you sure? You don’t have to…we literally just reconnected after not seeing each other for over a decade.”

“I know I don’t have to do anything,” he says, now trying everything to convince her. “If I’m overstepping, you can tell me and I’ll immediately lay off. But it just seems like…maybe some company could be nice. And we could switch off driving too.”

She bites her lip and tilts her head curiously, trying to find something in his face. It only took her a couple of seconds to chuckle. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but sure. Why not? Come join me on my drive back home.”

He lights up, grinning widely. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“When are you planning on leaving?”

“Monday.”

In two days. Perfect.

“This is gonna be so fun. Just you wait.”

“I don’t doubt it. Fun seems to always follow you wherever you go.”

He has to let her go, since she has some last things to do as the wedding planner. He kisses her cheek quickly before he leaves the reception, to which Quinn raises an eyebrow at but doesn’t say anything. The next morning, during the quick and informal thank you breakfast for the bridal party at a nearby, fancy-ish brunch place, Jack throws him under the bus (“Saw you getting pretty comfortable with Isabelle yesterday,”) and he reveals their plan for the next day. 

It might be one of the most TV show worthy reactions from every single person, bridesmaid and groomsmen. Luke chokes on his mimosa, Quinn shakes his head, Alex blinks, Nico has a shit-eating grin on his face, Jack smirks and Cole lets out a bark of laughter. The girls have all been filled in and equally have similar reactions. Amelie immediately says “you’re joking,” Michelle, at the same time as Amelie, says “ain’t no way,” Kaia, like Alex, just blinks. Nicole and Sarah’s jaws drop wide open, Annemarie starts cackling and Isla drops her fork. 

“What?” Trevor responds, munching on his bacon. “Why all the reactions?”

“Z, are you sure about this?” Quinn asks, ever the voice of reason.

“Yes? It’s just a drive. Everyone needs a car buddy for that long of a drive. Gives me an excuse to go home too.”

“Trevor,” Amelie starts. “I think we’re all just a bit confused because this is…not that we don’t like Isabelle! She’s wonderful. But this just seems out of the blue.”

Jack snorts. “There’s nothing confusing about this at all.” Everyone, Trevor included, turns to look at the new groom, who just shrugs while taking a sip of his coffee. “He likes her.”

“For real?”

“Oh my.”

“Okay, Z! Atta boy.”

“Haven’t you not seen her for like, 10 years?”

“Have you liked her this whole time?”

“That’s crazy.”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Trevor says above everyone’s exclamations. He waits until everyone’s settled. “I don’t like her. Not like that, at least. She’s just…I don’t know. It was good to see her again after so long. It felt like going back to old times. Simpler times.”

“It’s giving childhood friends to lovers,” Michelle says, making everyone laugh. Trevor rolls his eyes again and the subject is dropped. 

Jack volunteers to drive Trevor to Belle’s before him and Amelie’s flight to Greece tonight for their honeymoon. He doesn’t leave Quinn and Jack’s place without chirps from every single person still there, gathering their things and cleaning up. He makes sure to leave with giving Amelie a tight hug and a fond kiss on her cheek before playfully glaring at everyone else as he leaves.

He climbs into the passenger seat. “You don’t think I’m crazy?”

“We’ve known each other since we were 16, Z.” Jack says, starting the car. “Nothing you do fazes me anymore.”

Trevor just hums, staring at one of his dearest friends who is now a husband. “Congrats, Jacky. I know I’ve said it a lot recently, but I’m really happy for you.”

A small smile spreads across Jack’s face, as he automatically goes to touch his wedding ring. “Thanks, man.” Silence falls between them. “Did you ever, even just the slightest, like Isabelle as more than a friend? And be honest with me.”

“No,” Trevor replies honestly. “I always knew she was kind and thoughtful, but she was always just Connor’s little sister and kept to herself and her own friends most of the time.”

“And now? Do you like her now?”

“I don’t know,” Trevor replies honestly. If Jack is shocked, he doesn’t show it. Trevor clears his throat, “We haven’t seen each other in over 10 years. I don’t know her enough anymore to know if I like her.”

Jack just hums. “Look, I…”

“You what?” Silence. “Jack.”

“Amelie and I got pretty close with Isabelle beyond her being our wedding planner. Maybe it’s because she’s close to our age or just easy to get along with. I think…she never told us directly, but I think something happened, Z.”

“What do you mean something happened?”

“Well, I wasn’t there, but her and Amelie went out for casual drinks once to plan some stuff out and Amelie was, you know, casually asking her about relationships and if she ever dreamed of her own wedding, and she got super…not defensive. But Amelie said it was like a switch turned on. All she said is that at some point she did, but she’s not at that point of her life anymore, and then she immediately changed the topic. It’s none of my business, I get that, but she’s also my friend, Z. Just…look out for her, okay?”

“Of course I will,” Trevor promises as Jack slows down in front of Belle’s house. They both climb out of the car and Trevor grabs his backpack, duffle and garment bag from the backseat.

“Thanks for driving.” Trevor embraces his friend in a tight hug.

“Anytime,” Jack says. “Thanks for everything this last week. And just in general. I love you.”

“Love you too, man. Have fun on your honeymoon.”

Jack smiles. “Thank you. You two drive safe, eh? Let Amelie and I know when you're back in New York.”

Trevor just nods, before walking up to the front door and knocking. Within seconds, Belle opens the door with a wide smile. She looks beyond Trevor’s shoulder and waves at Jack as he drives away.

“Hi!”

Trevor can’t help but smile at her energy. It’s infectious. “Hey, Belle. Are you sure you don’t mind letting me crash for the night? I can always get Quinn to come get me later.”

She opens the door wider to let him in. “It’s not a bother at all. As long as you’re good with sleeping on the floor.” He just waves her off, setting his duffle and backpack down and looking around at the barren household. “I would give you a tour, but there’s really not much to see anymore.”

“You need any help?”

She smiles at him sweetly. “I have some boxes in the garage that you could help me move?”

He’s eager to help, until he lifts the first box, grunting about how heavy it is. Belle just chuckles, because why else had she not moved these in her car yet? If she has a professional hockey player volunteering to help her move, then she might as well put him to use, right? Trevor just rolls his eyes, but he can’t help but let a smile peek through at hearing Belle’s giggles. Once the car is packed (it takes longer than usual, as they stand out in the driveway and in the garage inbetween moving, chirping at each other and catching up), they realize it’s getting close to dinner time especially if they want to get an early start in the morning. Trevor asks what she wants to have (“as your last night living in the state of Michigan”) and she lights up, dialing up the place of her favorite Asian fusion takeout place. Trevor tries to hand over his card but she smacks it out of his hand, glaring at him while still on the phone. 

It’s a nice day outside, so they decide to venture out and have dinner on the front porch that she’s going to miss very much, leaning their backs against the panels of the house, sitting a comfortable 4 feet apart, Trevor’s knees pulled up and Belle with her legs outstretched and ankles crossed. He watches as she looks out at the sunset painting the quiet residential street, which is even more stunning than usual. If you listen closely, you can hear the sounds of kids gleefully screaming and dogs barking here and there. For a moment, Trevor feels like he’s intruding as Belle continues staring out, lost in her own world. Her focus only shifts a few minutes later when a car rolls up with their take out, as she jumps up and accepts the food with a gracious smile.

He helps her open boxes and suddenly there’s a generous spread of food between them as they start eating.

Trevor breaks the silence. “You never told me why.”

“Why what?”

“Why you’re leaving Michigan.”

She’s in the middle of stuffing a crab rangoon in her mouth. She chews and swallows for a couple of seconds. “It’s a long story.”

“I have nothing but time if you want to share.”

“I lied. It’s not really a long story. Just a sad one. That’s just my go-to when people ask.”

“You don’t have to lie to me. Ever. But you also don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

She lets out a deep sigh. “I was supposed to get married earlier this year.”

He blinks. Once. twice. And he’s speechless for once in his life. She barrels on. 

“Nate and I…I met him at UMich my junior year. I had full plans to leave Michigan right after college. Not that I don’t love it here, but I just wanted to go home. But he got an offer here after graduation and I found a gig working for a great wedding planner so I stayed. And it was good. The brief stint in Santa Ana I mentioned was because of his job, so we moved out there. But I really didn’t mind. I actually really enjoyed California.” She picks at her fingernails, “He proposed to me the beginning of last year, a week before we were gonna move back to Michigan. And I was happy. Really happy. So many years I had been planning other people’s weddings and I was finally going to have my own with someone I loved.”

“Belle, you don’t have to-”

She waves him off. “The day of our cake tasting, we were running late and he was in the shower and I grabbed his phone to put in my bag. And there was a text that flashed on my lock screen. ‘Missed you, baby. See you tonight’ and that was it. He had been cheating on me for almost a year. I moved out that night and crashed with a friend for a few weeks before finding this place. Grabbed my shit when I knew he was gone during the day at work. Canceled all of the deposits. Gave the ring back.” She chuckles, albeit sadly. “Funny. The week after I found out, I had my first consultation with Amelie and Jack and honestly, throwing myself into their wedding planning may have saved me, not that they know that. Anyways, yeah. That’s why I’m leaving Michigan. I honestly would’ve done it sooner but I had to stick it out for those two. They deserved it.”

Trevor’s silent for a couple more moments. “Promise me something.”

“What?”

“If we see him out and about, point him out so I can kick his ass.”

Her chuckle comes out broken but genuine. “Connor was real close when I told him. I was afraid he’d just start driving here. So you’d have to get behind him in line.”

“Gladly,” he scoots closer to her and offers an arm. She collapses into his side. “God, Belle. I’m so sorry. No one deserves that, least of all you.”

She sniffles. “It’s okay.”

“No, Belle. It’s not okay. What an asshole.” He can feel tears on his shirt and he starts rubbing her back in soothing circles. “You deserve someone to love you just as much as you love them. Someone to put you above all, who views your love and presence as a privilege. Because it is a privilege. I would know.”

She snorts, still sniffling. “You made fun of me all the time when we were younger.”

“Nah ah ah. Connor did. I didn’t. And that doesn’t mean I didn’t know how lovely you were even back then. Why do you think Connor and I were so against you going on a date with that guy…what was his name?”

“Trent.”

“Yeah. Trent. First of all, just sounds like a douchebag.”

“And Trevor is so much better?”

“Second, because he was an ass. We didn’t terrorize you about it just because. We terrorized you about it because we knew he had cheated on his ex-girlfriend.”

“Maybe if you had ever met Nate, you could’ve sniffed out his bullshit right away. Took me around 6 years to figure it out.”

“You’ve always had good judgment, Belle. No need to blame yourself when you did nothing wrong.”

“Did I though?” She whispers. “Do nothing wrong, I mean. What if-what if I was working too much or I wasn’t attentive enough or I didn’t-”

Trevor shakes his head adamantly. “Belle, no. Stop. Absolutely not. You did enough. You were enough. I’m not gonna sit here and let you pick apart yourself unfairly. You stayed in Michigan for him. You moved to Santa Ana for him. You gave all you had. And he’s the one who fucked it all up. That’s not on you.”

She signs, a bit defeated but musters a small smile. “Thanks, Trevor.”

“Of course.” He stuffs a piece of sushi in his mouth.

She shoots him a small smile that has him swallowing roughly. “Nonetheless, I’m really happy we ran into each other. It’s been nice to have a slice of home back in my life again.”

Trevor just smiles, staring into her warm eyes. “Me too.”

…..

It’s hour two into the 10 hour drive when she breeches the subject again. 

“Connor never liked him.” Trevor turns to look at Belle, who has one hand on the wheel casually. He automatically turns the music down as she continues. “He tried to get along with him, for my sake. But Connor was never sold. I always thought it was just him being a protective older brother. When I asked why, he always just gave some vague answer. Didn’t like his vibe, or whatever. It’s been hard not to agonize over now. If I should’ve just listened to him from the start.” Trevor doesn’t know what to say, but just faces her fully so she knows that he’s listening. She lets out a heavy breath as she puts her sunglasses atop her head. “I never asked. How’s your love life?”

Trevor snorts and the playfulness is back in the air again. “Well, not married like Connor is. I’ve had a couple things here or there. Clearly nothing that’s stuck.”

“Any particular reason why?”

He shrugs, suddenly feeling a bit small even though he knows that’s not her intention whatsoever. “I think when people date me, they don’t necessarily want all of me, you know? They want the jokester and the charmer. They don’t want the shifts in mood or the obsession of figuring out why I’m in a scoring drought or the insecurities.”

Belle hums sympathetically. “I think you just haven’t found the right one yet.”

“You sound like Quinn.”

She laughs. “From the small amount of interactions I’ve had with him, I’d say that sounds pretty on brand.” She shrugs. “You have time though. We all do. If that’s something you even want.”

“What? Marriage?”

“Yeah.”

“I do, I think. Want that, I mean. It’s just…hard. And scary. The thought of giving someone all of you? That’s giving them a lot of power.”

“I get it,” she says. “God, I really get that.”

“Is marriage not something you want anymore?”

She sighs. “I don’t know. I think I still do. It’s just…it’s still too soon, you know? And I don’t know if I have the energy to, like you said, give someone all of me again. I got hurt once. I don’t know if I can afford that again.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, I think you’re one of the best people I’ve ever known. So anybody would be lucky to love you.”

And shit, that kinda slipped out. His heart starts racing as she looks at him briefly in surprise. “That’s…that’s very kind of you, Trevor. Probably too big of a compliment.”

“Not too big of a compliment,” he automatically responds, digging himself into a deeper hole that he can’t even decipher. If he thinks about it too hard, he would realize that this is the most open he’s been with someone outside of his tight circle in awhile. And a week ago, she hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“You know, you were my favorite out of Connor’s friends back then.” 

A pang of satisfaction touches his heart and he’s grinning. “Yeah?”

Belle rolls her eyes at his slight smugness. “Don’t let that get to your head.”

“Too late.”

“I don’t know. I just..liked how friendly you were to everyone you encountered. I don’t think there was ever a time when you came over and didn’t strike up a conversation with me. Even though I was quiet and shy, you still always treated me like a person.”

“I feel like that’s the bare minimum, no?”

She shrugs. “Now that we’re in our late twenties, sure. But back when we were 12, 13 years old? You’d be surprised.” 

He watches her drum her fingers against the steering wheel, the patterned bandana in her ponytail swinging with the wind, wispies from her ponytail framing her face. If he looks hard enough, he can see 10 year old Belle sitting on the sofa in the Holloway’s living room, a sketchbook on her lap and a glass of apple juice next to her. If he listens hard enough, he can hear her humming to ‘Love Story’ as he leaves Connor’s room to walk past her room in the hallway to the bathroom. Maybe he can even smell her vanilla body spray that used to always filter out of her room if he breathes in deeply enough. 

All he can see and hear and feel is his childhood self. Looking at her makes him feel blissfully young, a bit naive and incredibly out of his depth. 

She casts him a casual glance. “You good?”

Trevor grins easily. “Never better.” 

It’s hour five after stopping for lunch. Trevor’s behind the wheel now and her legs are up on the seat with her as she stares out the window, her chin on her knees. He has an urge to put a hand on her knee. To comfort her or to let her know that he’s there, he doesn’t know. But he refrains. 

“Belle?”

“Hm?” 

“Can I ask you a question?”

She turns to face him, chin still on her knees. “Should I be nervous?”

He snorts. “No. I’m just a dumb hockey player. What could I possibly say that would catch you off guard?”

“You’re not dumb. And plenty. You knew me when I was 13 and in my awkward phase. That’s longer than most of the people I’ve seen in the last five years. What’s your question?”

Okay, Trevor can dissect all of that later. ““Are you going to miss Michigan?”

She lets out a thoughtful hum. “I’ll miss parts of it. I loved going to college at Michigan, made a lot of friends from college and work. And I grew up a lot here. Not to mention, Michigan’s almost unfairly beautiful. I’ll also weirdly miss my porch a lot. But also, it’s tough driving around with thoughts of Nate at every corner. Because he’s present in practically all the memories I have here. So I’m glad I’m leaving because I know I need to.” He turns to her quickly and sees her lip quiver. Almost as if he had imagined it, she offers a small smirk. “That’s the question you were so afraid to ask me?”

He sputters out a laugh. “What does that mean?” He asks defensively. 

She shakes out her hair to redo her ponytail. "You never had a problem asking anything to anyone back in the day.”

“Things change.”

She pauses for a split second before tying up her hair and looking at him. “They do. I’m sorry for assuming they don’t.”

Hour eight and they’ve been in a comfortable silence for a bit now. One can only talk for so long, even someone as chatty as Trevor. Belle’s behind the wheel again and her phone is plugged in playing music. The playlist he had put on initially has cycled through and without asking, he plugged her phone in and shuffled a random playlist of hers.

He vaguely recognizes Taylor Swift’s voice and looks to see what song it is. ‘The Archer.’ His ears perk up as he listens to her softly sing along, and then, he’s actually listening to the words. 

Belle’s eyebrows are pinched together as she sings about people seeing right through her and how all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t put her together again. He wants to offer her a hand to squeeze, a touch for support, but he doesn’t. 

He clears his throat. “So. Santa Ana. What was your favorite part?”

She automatically grins. “All of it? I don’t know. I liked my job. I liked the area. I liked the weather. It felt like a breath of fresh air, in a way.”

“Would you consider moving back?”

“Maybe. I honestly haven’t really thought of anything but leaving Michigan recently.”

He stops asking her questions. He doesn’t want to keep bringing up the pain. 

By the time she rolls into the driveway of Trevor’s childhood home, it’s almost 8 pm. Almost as soon as she kills the engine, the front door opens, revealing both his parents. Julie runs out, only barely letting Belle step out of the car before throwing her arms around her. He smiles fondly as his mother puts her hands on Belle’s cheeks as the younger woman chuckles, before turning to Gary and giving him a quick hug as well. Trevor drags his stuff out of the trunk and shuts it, smiling to himself as he listens to his mother invite Belle and her parents over for dinner the next night and watching Belle nod enthusiastically. 

She then turns to him and it feels like someone has reached into his heart and punched it. She smiles. “Thanks for the company.”

He puts down his duffle and scoops her into a tight hug, only letting her go after giving her a soft kiss on the cheek. “Anytime. See you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow.”

(And if he catches his mom giving him an inquisitive look as they all watch Belle back out of the driveway, he doesn’t say anything)

Tomorrow comes and Trevor’s content with mostly being lazy, adjusting to being home and around his parents. It feels weird to be in these walls without Griffin and Ava, but then again, he’s sure it’s one-sided. He moved away when he was so young, leaving behind his supportive parents and his even-more-supportive siblings. They got used to Trevor not being around. 

He’s recapping Jack’s wedding to his father on the patio while his mom is preparing pies in preparation for the Holloways, the mouthwatering smell filtering through the screen door. He smiles as he recalls the week leading up when he went early and was roped into helping out, how beautiful Amelie looked and how he had never seen Jack that excited and happy before, not when he was drafted first overall, not when he won the Eastern Conference Final. He talks about how their vows made Trevor tear up and just how fun it was to celebrate two people he loves. He talks about reconnecting with Belle and briefly brushes over their drive back. He gives vague answers when his parents — mostly his mom — try to pry more, partially because it’s so much that he’s still trying to decipher it himself and partially because some of it isn’t his place to tell. 

An hour later, he can’t help but beam as Belle’s parents greet him similarly to how his greeted Belle the day before. He helps Susan bring in the pasta salad and shakes Kurt’s hand, his slight nerves settling as the first thing Kurt says is how proud of Trevor he is. Belle is the last one who walks through the door, listening to the moms talking animatedly in her ear. She’s wearing a pink floral maxi dress with a denim jacket over her shoulders and she’s glowing. He itches to give her a hug but just settles for a grin instead before turning his full attention to Kurt. 

It’s when the parents are filtering outside does he get a chance to say hello to her as they both hang back in the kitchen. She bumps her hip with his. “Long time no see.”

He pulls her into a side hug. “Hilarious. Want anything to drink before heading out there?”

She eyes the few bottles of wine in the mini wine cabinet. “White wine if it’s not too much of a hassle?”

He opens the fridge and grabs a wine glass. “My mom put a bottle in the fridge earlier. It’s her favorite, so if it’s bad, it’s not my fault.” She takes the glass from him graciously and he grabs a bottle of beer for himself as they both head outside. 

“It’s weird being here without Connor.”

“I was just thinking earlier how it’s weird being here without Griffin and Ava.”

“At least we have each other, right?”

He hums. “Good thing.” She then gets roped into a conversation with his father and he happily takes a backseat, answering when a question is directed towards him but perfectly content in watching her. 

(Julie and Susan, who had never really considered these two as a pair, nudge each other and exchange a few words, watching as Belle laughs while sipping her wine and Trevor just stares at her.

“She was supposed to get married last year. To a guy she met in college.”

Julie’s eyebrows shoot up. “Is that right?”

“Yup. Until she caught him cheating.”

Julie sighs. “I wish we could protect our kids from everything that could hurt them.”

“I do too.” Susan watches her daughter wistfully and lovingly. “She’s always thrown herself into work, But especially after the break-up. You have no idea how relieved I was when she told me she was coming home.”

“Does she know where she’s going next?”

“Not that I know of. For the first time in her life, she doesn’t know.”

“She’ll be okay,” Julie says confidently, rubbing her old friend’s shoulder. “I’ve never had any doubt about Belle.”

“But you had doubt in the others?” Susan teases as Julie snorts. “All our kids are doing well for themselves, but you have one who is the definition of achieving their childhood dream.”

Julie sighs thoughtfully, looking at Trevor. “He’s done well for himself, I think.”

“You think?”

Julie just smiles, clinking her glass against Susan’s.)

Meat is grilled, salads are tossed and food is eaten as the sun fades away. Sometime between sunset and when the sky becomes black, the fireplace is lit and the outdoor lamps are turned on. Trevor switched to water after his second beer, liver still trying to recover from the wedding festivities. 

Trevor finds Belle sitting by the edge of the pool with her feet dipped in, sandals to the side of her. Her hands are folded on her lap as she stares down, occasionally kicking her feet a bit to make the water ripple. He clears his throat so he doesn’t startle her. She looks up and her lips quirk up at seeing him, but they soon fall, as she turns back to the water and tilts her head to the side, taking a deep breath. 

Trevor licks his dry lips. “Come with me?”

“Where are we going?” She asks, accepting the hand he offers as she gets up and slips on her shoes, adjusting her dress. 

“You’ll see. We won’t be long.” Wordlessly, they go around the side of the house to go to the driveway. He catches his mom’s eye and just offers a small smile. Julie’s eyes flicker between him and Belle before she nods. Belle doesn’t say anything as Julie tosses her son the keys to her car, letting Trevor lightly tug her along by loosely intertwining their hands. He opens the passenger door for her and she gives him a grateful look as she slips in. 

He hasn’t been to his intended destination in at least five years, but he knows the route all the same, easily driving the seven minutes. He sneaks a glance or two at Belle as the minimal streetlights light her face aglow for a few seconds at a time. Before he overthinks it, he reaches out and grabs her hand gently, waiting for her to pull away. She doesn’t, instead lacing her hand with his and squeezing once. 

“I haven’t been here since I was in high school,” Belle says as Trevor kills the engine, the tranquility of the small lake and lookout everyone who grew up in Bedford called “Pink Sun” due to the incredibly beautiful sunsets one could see if they were lucky, no one knowing that it’s actual government name was. He’s almost confident that this specific lookout is private property, due to the string lights adorning the trees meticulously that seem to always be on, but whoever owns the property clearly doesn’t care. He would come in the summers from time to time with friends like Connor after he moved away for hockey, but he knows he didn’t experience it the same way as others did.

“Which tree did you have sex under?” Trevor asks as they get out of the car and open the trunk. He quickly fluffs up the two pillows his mom has in the car at all times and pulls the blanket over them both as they get comfortable.

She chuckles and Trevor immediately smiles at the sound. “Gross.”

“What? Isn’t that what people did?” She just lightly slaps him before they both fall into a comfortable silence again. She takes her hand from under the blanket and reaches out to find Trevor’s. He offers his hand immediately. It feels like the most natural thing in the world. 

She starts sniffling, and when he turns to her, concerned, he sees tears rushing down her face. He immediately wraps his arms around her and maneuvers her so that she’s crying into his chest. He tries to be steady for her shaking body, rubbing her back and muttering sweet nothings to assure that he’s here and she’s not alone. He places a couple of kisses on top of her head without thinking because there’s a split down the middle of his heart that’s widening everytime she whimpers.

She cries. The water ripples. Trevor holds her close. 

…..

The entire time Trevor’s back home, he doesn’t go more than a day without seeing Belle. They get ice cream, sitting in the chairs that haven’t been replaced in at least 30 years and giggling as the ice cream drips over their fingers. They go back to Pink Sun to watch the sunset. Because this whole month has him feeling nostalgic, he goes back to his old rink in Stamford and she tags along, indulging him as he pulls up his hoodie over himself as they watch the last 15 minutes of a game the AAA team that Trevor used to be a part of is playing in. Some of the front office staff is still the same and they all immediately beam when seeing Trevor. He chokes up a bit when talking to some of them. He’s missed it here more than he thought he would. 

After training sessions, he just shows up to her house without any warning. They take a lot of drives, passing by landmarks they know well and ones they don’t know at all. They spend hours chatting on the porch of her parents’ place, waving at neighbors as they walk by and petting their dogs. She doesn’t cry in his chest again, but there are stretches of silence where she craves a comforting shoulder. Trevor doesn’t hesitate to offer his. 

He learns more about why she enjoys wedding planning and her time in Michigan. She learns more about how his goals have changed the longer he’s been in the league and his time in Anaheim. They both talk about times they feel like they’ve had their heart ripped to pieces and he finds himself admitting things he’s never admitted out loud to anyone — not Jamie, not Jack, not Cole, not Alex. 

He wonders to himself how he’s lived this long without her in his life. 

The day Trevor has to leave for Anaheim, she offers to drive him to LaGuardia, smiling as he hugs his parents goodbye in the driveway, promising to see them soon when the Ducks are playing in New York. 

She shuts the trunk at the departures drop-off area with a wistful smile. “I’ll miss you, Trev.”

“I’m gonna miss you too.” And then he practically manhandles her into a tight hug, his chin resting on her shoulder, rubbing her back before pulling away. “If you ever wanna come out to Anaheim, there’s always a place for you to stay.”

“I’ll think about it.” With most people, it’s an empty promise. But with Belle, he knows she means it. “Good luck this season. Score some goals, yeah?”

He rolls his eyes, arms still around her waist. “Don’t be a stranger, okay? You have my number. Use it.”

She nods, tilting her head to the side. “Okay.” She presses a kiss on his cheek before he forces himself to let go. She sticks her hands in her jean pockets. “Text me when you land?”

“Of course. Bye, Belle. I’ll see you soon.”

“Bye. Travel safe.”

Trevor forces himself not to look back as he walks through the automatic doors. 

…..

The first roadie of the season includes a stop in Chicago, and Trevor doesn’t hesitate to text Connor. He feels the familiar pang in his heart again, guilty that he hasn’t reached out until now. But when he and Connor meet up for a quick coffee the morning of the game, it washes away quickly. They fall right back to where they were when they were 16, even though they’re both over a decade older and a bit wiser now. Trevor practically shoves two tickets for the game for him and his wife, even though Connor is trying to bat his hand away. 

After the game, the three of them go to dinner and he gets introduced to Ashley, Connor’s wife, who is peppy and fun and he loves seeing her and Connor together. After dinner, Ashley excuses herself to go home as the two of them migrate to a nearby pub. They have years to catch up on. 

“Belle tell you about the break-up?”

Trevor scoffs, taking a hefty sip of his beer. “Yeah. Fucking asshole.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. When she decided to get the fuck out of Michigan, I was relieved.”

“Yeah?”

Connor sighs. “Yeah. I know she says she stayed because of the Hughes wedding, but I also think it’s because she had a hard time letting go. Which, you know, who can blame her, right?” Trevor just nods sympathetically. Connor leans back, eyes flickering elsewhere for a moment. “Thanks, by the way.”

“What for, man?”

“For looking out for her.” There’s a hint of relief in Connor’s tone. “She’s always been independent, I’m sure you remember. And she has a hard time letting people know that she’s struggling, even if we all see it and want to help. Whatever you did, thank you, man. It’s appreciated.”

Trevor bites his tongue. He wants to say that he doesn’t have to thank him for being a good friend, but Connor is adamant. So Trevor just smiles.

…..

The season’s in full swing, but Trevor makes the effort to keep in contact with Belle frequently. Whether it’s sending a meme or calling on his way to practice, Belle becomes a part of his daily life. 

A month in Bedford now and he can tell she’s getting a bit restless. She’s taken up crocheting, which Trevor loves to make fun of her for. Until he finds a little box on his doorstep and opens it to find a crocheted Wild Wing. He hands it on his rearview mirror in the car. He doesn’t fully realize she’s watching his games until he sees a text from her after a game against New Jersey (“Don’t let Jack hang the win over your head too much. That slapshot was insane.”) and that has him grinning much too widely for someone who just lost.

On Thanksgiving Day, after one of the guys’ families hosts a Friendsgiving for the whole team, he’s back at his place on the couch when she calls him. 

Her face comes up on the screen and he has to smile. “Oh. Hey.” she says gently. “I didn’t actually expect an answer.”

“You just caught me. I just got home from Friendsgiving with the team. Happy Thanksgiving, by the way.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

He doesn’t recognize her background. “Where you at?”

“My aunt’s. They’re all watching the game in the basement so I decided to take a break up in the living room.”

“Good food?”

“I’m fucking stuffed,” she admits, making Trevor laugh. “I’m not bad in the kitchen, but nothing beats a good homemade turkey and stuffing.”

“I feel you. So what’s been happening? Haven’t called in a bit.”

“It’s been, like, a week, Trev.”

“Exactly. A bit.”

She rolls her eyes, before leaning back further into the couch. “Actually, I do have news. Kinda.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I, uh, heard back from two people about a job. My old boss from Santa Ana said there’s a spot open for me if I want it. And then my boss in Michigan recommended me to someone in Manhattan, and she called me yesterday and also said I had a job if I wanted it.”

He grins. “Belle. That’s amazing! Congratulations. I’m not surprised though. I know firsthand how damn good you are at your job.”

He sees her blush slightly and he thinks it’s adorable. She twirls her hair around her finger. “Thanks. I’m, yeah. It’s pretty exciting. I’m excited to get back into it again.”

“So. California and New York. Those are two pretty different places.”

She sighs. “Yeah. That’s partially why I called you. Kinda want to get another opinion.”

Before he can stop himself, he snorts. “You’re telling me you haven’t made a pros and cons list already? Don’t think I don’t remember you forcing me to make one when I was deciding if I should go to Avon.”

She tilts her head to the side. “You remember that?”

“There’s not a lot of memories I have from growing up here that don’t have you in them. Of course I remember.”

She bites her lip but Trevor can see the smile peeking through. She clears her throat. “I do. Have a list.”

“So you’ve already made your decision.”

She opens her mouth. Then closes it. “Yes and no. I really do want your opinion, Trevor.”

“Floor’s all yours.”

“I love New York, but I don’t know if I can stay here. If I go back to Santa Ana, is it going to be like Michigan again? I don’t know what Santa Ana is like without Nate.”

“No,” he responds immediately. “It won’t be.”

“How are you so sure?”

“Because Santa Ana is yours, Belle. No one else’s. You said it yourself. You loved your time there. If Michigan doesn’t feel like home anymore and New York feels too much like your past self, California is waiting for you.”

A couple seconds of silence before a small chuckle erupts from Belle. “You take a creative writing class at BU or something? That was actually eloquent.”

If he were next to her, he’d shove her off the couch. He just huffs as she keeps laughing. “My point is, is that you can make fresh starts in familiar areas. Plus, not that I have anything to do with this, but Santa Ana is pretty damn close to Anaheim.”

“Knew you’d say that.”

“I mean, can you blame me? ” He leans back on the couch. “I don’t think you’re incapable of moving on. I think, in a way, you aren’t ready to, and that’s why Santa Ana scares you. You have to and are inevitably going to make new memories wherever you are, but you just have to do it. Take the leap. Dive in the deep end. Whatever the fuck they say.”

And well, that came out a bit harsher than Trevor intended, if the slight flinch on Belle’s face is an indication. But she sighs, “You’re right. I know you’re right. Fuck, Trev. Maybe I shouldn’t have quit and stayed in Michigan.”

“Stop,” he says. “We’re not doing that. Now you have to come out to California. Who else is gonna tell you to get your head out of your ass?” His goal is achieved as she laughs. “Seriously though. Whatever choice you make, you have my full support.”

Four days later, he sees that Belle left him a voicemail in the middle of the game. She’s coming to Santa Ana. Trevor starts organizing the guest room.

…..

Three days into the new year and Trevor finds himself running out of morning skate to drive to LAX. Belle’s staying with him while she looks for her own place, at Trevor’s insistence. He told her she can stay as long as she needs. He hopes she takes that offer seriously. 

He rolls up to the arrivals terminal and idles his car, seeing a text from Belle indicating that she’s still waiting to pick up her luggage. He leans back in his seat, taking a deep breath adjusting the baseball cap on his head, bopping along to the latest playlist that he made for this season.

He’s about to do a drum solo on his steering wheel when he spots Belle come out of the double doors, rolling two suitcases, backpack on her back and a tired but genuine smile on her face. He immediately leaps out of the car, running to lift her up in a hug, making her chuckle. 

“Hey Trevor.”

He kisses her cheek before putting her down. “Belle of the Ball. How was your flight?”

“Good. Long,” she reaches to get her suitcases and he waves her off, lifting her suitcases easily into his trunk as she slips into the passenger seat. She sags into the seat and turns to him with a bigger smile as he turns on the engine. “It’s really good to see you.”

He reaches to ruffle her hair to ignore the funny feeling in his stomach. “Missed you too.”

They catch each other up on what’s been happening since the last time they talked, so only really the last week. Once he turns off the highway, he opens the windows and he periodically glances at Belle, who’s leaning her head on the seatbelt strap as the houses blur by. She tucks her hair behind both her ears and Trevor feels his throat start to close up. 

“Hungry?”

“A bit.”

“Enough to wait a bit so I can cook something up?”

She looks toward him in subdued delight. “You cook?”

“Decently, I’d say.”

“What are you gonna make me?”

Whatever you want, he thinks. “I make a pretty good steak.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to a personal chef.”

“Don’t get used to it,” he points at her jokingly. She laughs, but honestly, Trevor doesn’t hate the idea. 

Belle’s car got shipped yesterday to Trevor’s place the week prior, so two days later, when Belle starts work and Trevor has to go to morning skate, they leave the house at the same time after cups of coffee and climb into their own cars, Belle wearing a red sleeveless blouse and white jeans and Trevor wearing a Duck t-shirt and shorts. 

Before she can fully get into her car, Trevor runs around and squeezes her, making her squeal. “Good luck today. You’re gonna kill it.”

“Thanks Trevor. Have fun at morning skate.”

“Are you still cool with a couple of the guys coming over for dinner?”

“It’s your house, dude. You can invite over whoever you want.”

“It’s also your home too,” Trevor insists.

She rolls her eyes fondly. “It’s not. But of course you can have your friends over. I’m excited to meet them.” She gets in her car, but before she shuts the door, she puts her head out. “Do you mind grabbing some orange juice? I think you’re running out and I drink more of it than you do. Just Venmo request me.”

“Yeah, I gotcha. Won’t Venmo request you though,” she opens her mouth to protest but he just taps the roof of her car twice. “We can talk about splitting stuff later. Bye now!”

“Dick,” she mutters as she shuts her door. He chuckles. He lets her back out of the driveway first.

That night, Mason, Jamie and Leo come over and the four of them are finishing up cooking dinner when Belle walks in. A bit flushed and sweaty, she’s nothing but smiles as she slips off her shoes, putting down her bag and introducing herself. She hugs each of them with a sweet smile before finally reaching Trevor. She hugs him like she did with the other three, but he thinks she holds on a bit longer. He smacks a friendly kiss on her cheek, but he catches Jamie’s eye as she pulls away and he knows he’s going to absolutely be grilled about this tomorrow. 

Dinner’s practically ready and the guys just shoo Belle away to the dining table, Leo pouring out a glass of wine for her. They chat and swap stories over chicken alfredo and salad, and Trevor’s content sitting back and watching two different parts of his life come together, not even jumping in to defend himself that much when she recalls some shenanigans from Jack’s wedding. Sure, they at least know of Jack, Alex, Cole and other various members of the NTDP crew who knew him when he was 17 and stupid, but Belle’s known him since they were children. Whether she — or Trevor even — realizes it or not, Belle and Trevor know each other in the purest way. The way only childhood allows, where filters of judgment, insecurities and expectations cease to exist. 

Even with almost two decades lost in translation, Trevor thinks, in a way, Belle might know him better than most. And he might know her better than most.

Which is why he can sense that an hour after dinner, that Belle is exhausted, so he takes the initiative and the guys immediately pick up on it, bidding Belle goodbye and making her promise that she’ll come to a game soon. Once the door shuts, Trevor goes to start washing the dishes, batting her hand away when she tries to help. 

“Trevor. You cooked. I’ll clean.”

“Nope. Go to take a shower. You’ve had a long day.”

“You have too.”

He waves her off. “Go. I got this.” Her shoulders sag in defeat, but she shoots him a thankful smile and heads to shower. 

He’s just about finishing up the dishes and wiping down the counter when she walks back in, an old Michigan t-shirt and flannel pants on. She has her book in her hands but comes by next to him. “Are you sure you don’t need help cleaning up?”

He puts the kitchen towel back on the hook and swings an arm around her shoulder, bringing her against his side. “I’m sure. Where you unwinding for the night?”

“Probably the living room, if you don’t mind?”

“Belle. My home is your home. I mean it. I’ll probably join you after I shower.”

And he does, coming back in afterwards with only the living room light being on. He sees Belle curled up on the couch, engrossed in her book as one of the candles he rarely uses is lit up on the table in front of her. The air smells faintly of pine. 

“Do you mind if I put on some football? I’ll put the volume low.”

She hums. “Not at all.” With her feet in his lap, blanket tucked over both of them, Trevor thinks that he could get used to this. 

…..

Two weeks later, they’re finishing up their takeout when Belle clears her throat. “So I found a place that seems promising.”

Trevor stiffens. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s about 10 minutes from here. Just renting for now, which isn’t ideal. But it’s so soon, you know? I don’t wanna buy yet.”

Trevor understands the latter part, absolutely. But he’s still stuck on the first part of what she said. “When would you think of moving out?”

“At the start of the month.”

“That’s next week.”

She grimaces, washing their utensils. “Yeah. I just…I want to get out of your hair as soon as possible.”

“Belle,” his voice lowers into a serious tone that doesn’t come out of him that often. It works, because it gets Belle to look at him. “If you want to move out, I can’t stop you. It’s ultimately your decision. But I love having you here. So please don’t…don’t think you have to move out to get out of my hair. Because you don’t. I’d love for you to stay and live with me. Full time.”

Belle swallows, searching for something in his face. “You mean that?” She whispers. 

“Of course I do.” He pushes on. “And you know I’m a shitty liar.”

She chuckles as she finishes washing the dishes. On her way to the bathroom, she stops and just hugs Trevor. He welcomes it with a big smile. “You 100% sure?”

“Yes.”

She pulls away with a smile. “Okay. Your porch is better anyways.” 

Trevor laughs, his mind briefly flashing to an image of this place that had been only his for so long one day becoming theirs, with her throw pillows on the couch and fairy lights on the porch and photos of their friends and loved ones hanging on the walls, some they share, some they don’t.

…..

Trevor fully admits it to himself when Christmas rolls up and Belle refuses to go back to New York. 

(“There’s no way I’m leaving you alone for Christmas, Trev,” she insists with an eye roll. “We’ll start our own tradition here. It’ll be great.”)

He doesn’t even try to hide his fondness as he watches Belle teetering at the edge of a chair to hang up lights around their living room. Some random Christmas playlist he had queued up at Belle’s prodding is playing through his speaker, and he doesn’t think “Baby, It’s Cold Outside” deserves the grin plastered on his face. 

Belle, though. She might deserve it. Be the origin of it, really. 

They make too many cookies that they'll have to gift his teammates and her coworkers just so they don’t end up eating all of them. They have holiday movies on in the background for three days straight, some they pay attention to, some they just leave on for background noise. On Christmas morning, after two cups of coffee on Belle’s end to deal with Trevor’s incessant rambling, they’re sat in the front of their tree. The curtains are drawn, offering minimal lighting into their living room. Yet, the twinkling lights on the tree and around their living room paint Belle in the warmest of lights. The blue fluffy blanket wrapped around her shoulders only adds to her softness and Trevor has to excuse himself after they exchange presents to go in the bathroom. 

He splashes cold water in his face and stares at himself. He’s fully in fucking love. Shit. 

…..

After that realization, he does the only thing that makes sense to him. Two days later, on the way to practice, he calls Jack. As the phone rings, he thinks that he probably should’ve checked to see if the Devils were playing today, but he also couldn’t be bothered. 

Three rings later, Jack’s scratchy voice is projected through Trevor’s car. “Hello?”

“Hey dude.”

“You’re cutting into my pre-game nap. This better be fucking good.”

“I think I’m in love with Belle.”

Silence. A rustle on Jack’s end, before, “Jesus Christ. I knew Amelie should’ve taken the day off today.”

“Jacky,” Trevor practically whines. “Be helpful.”

“Give me a second to think and I will be,” Trevor stops at a light. “Dude. I mean, not completely out of left field. But in love love? That’s big. Considering you only reconnected, what, three months ago?”

“Yeah, I know. Am I being stupid? And I need you to be real with me and tell me if I am.”

“No.”

“I’m not being stupid?”

“No, you’re not being stupid. Z, I knew I wanted to marry Amelie, like, two months after I met her, and we weren’t even dating yet. You and Isabelle have known each other since you were kids.”

“Yeah, but we lost touch for over a decade.”

“Okay and? You spent a good amount of time together when you went back home, right? And she lives with you now, right?”

“She was the only one around at home, and we’ve been living together for maybe a month.”

“Dude, are you trying to convince yourself you are in love with her or that you’re not?”

Trevor shakes his head. “Sorry, sorry. Right.”

He hears Jack let out a sigh. “I know you’ve been burned in the past with relationships and stuff, but this is a good thing, okay? She’s a great person. Try not to freak out about it so much.”

“And do what instead?”

“I don’t know,” Jack says sarcastically. “Maybe tell her?”

“Absolutely not,” Trevor says. 

“Why not?”

Trevor’s about to tell him that Belle literally was supposed to be married a year ago but clamps his mouth shut. He’s not sure if Jack knows and that’s not his story to tell. “It’s just not a good idea.”

“Lame.”

“I’m gonna hang up and call literally anyone else.”

“Do it,” Jack challenges the empty threat, before softening. “Do you have any idea if she likes you back?”

“No,” Trevor says. “But I also haven’t been thinking about that because I don’t wanna…scare her off? I know she likes me as a friend, otherwise we wouldn’t be living together. But that’s probably all there is to it.”

“Maybe,” Jack says. “Or maybe you’re making assumptions. I’m not saying you have to do anything now, but you’re not stupid, Trev. Especially with stuff like this. And hey, at least you’re in love with someone as awesome as she is. Ooh, can you imagine you two getting married? It would be full circle!”

“Alright, that’s enough,” Trevor says as Jack chuckles. “Thanks, man. Seriously.”

“Anytime. And Z?” Trevor hums to tell Jack to go on. “Don’t beat yourself up so much. You don’t know until you ask.”

Those last two sentences echo through Trevor’s head for the rest of the day, even when he’s at practice and going through the drills. After so many years in the league, he usually always can leave his thoughts at the entrance of the rink and just focus on hockey. But not today. He can tell Troy wants to ask something, but he refrains. It’s not like a distracted Trevor appears often, and Trevor’s thankful his teammate doesn’t push. 

When the front door swings open that night and Belle calls out her greeting, Trevor is coming back from being outside the last few hours, where he sat and listened to the birds and just stared at the grass, lost in thought. 

Then Belle comes into view, gray sweater over a cream satin dress, tote bag on her shoulder and a tired but bright smile on her face, and Trevor’s not lost anymore. 

In fact, as she slides over to him in her socks across the hardwood floor and hugs him in greeting, immediately talking about what they should make for dinner tonight, Trevor’s never felt more sure of where he is and where he should be. 

…..

Trevor’s on a long roadie during Valentine’s Day, but he makes sure that he delivers flowers to the house before Belle has to get to work. He had spent an ungodly amount of time selecting which bouquet he wanted to send, and Jamie, the saint that he is, had only blinked when he saw what Trevor was looking at on his phone on the bus home from the game before Trevor could lock his phone. 

Imagine if it was Troy. Or Mason. Or fucking Leo, who’s just as much a menace as he was the first day Trevor met him. Everyone loves him and thinks he’s a darling, but Trevor knows better.

He ended up choosing a bouquet from Fresh Sends because the packaging looks sick with the newspaper and the bright colored box and the reviews are all high. Without hesitation, he had picked the largest bouquet, which he knew if Belle knew how much it cost, would probably kick him out of the house or something. But she doesn’t ever need to find out. On the bus, he had hastily typed out a custom note.

Belle, 

Happy Valentine’s Day!! Wish we could be watching shitty rom-coms together but I hope this makes up for it. Thankful to have you in my life again. See you when I get back!

Z

It’s not overly romantic, but he can’t exactly confess his love for her over a note when he’s across the country. If he ever confesses, he’s gonna tell her in person, not hide behind a note like a coward. 

He wakes up on February 14 in a hotel room with a bleary smile as he wipes the sleep away from his face. 

Belle of The Ball

*picture of the flowers*

Trevor!!! these are so so beautiful thank you

You really didn’t have to

Good luck against the Rangers tonight! And tell your parents (and mine) that i said hello❤️

Trevor nets two goals and an assist. He’s on top of the world. 

…..

He’s pleasantly surprised to see that he has an incoming call from Amelie on his way home from the rink a week later. 

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite Hughes.”

Amelie chuckles. “Quinn’s gonna be devastated.”

“Quinner has nothing on you.”

“Flatterer,” she says dryly. 

“What’s up?”

“Jack told me. About you and Isabelle.”

Trevor almost snorts. When he first met Amelie, way back when they were in their early twenties, she had been way more hesitant on giving her opinion among Jack’s oldest friends. But with time, her sarcasm and vivacity came out, and while Trevor had been initially surprised and amused, it made sense. Anyone who would choose to spend their life with Jack Hughes has to be able to hold their own purely to rival his constant need for attention.

“Did he now?”

“You’re the worst. I’m not gonna tell you the same stuff he did, which by the way, I’m actually pretty impressed by. From the recap he gave me, he actually said some useful stuff. But I will say something that he forgot to tell you.”

“And what is that?”

“That you’re wonderful, Trevor.”

That’s not at all what he was expecting to come out of the photographer’s mouth. All he can muster out is an “Oh?”

“Yeah. And obviously Jack believes the same thing. You know that. But you’re such a lovely guy, Trevor. I’ve known that since the day we met, don’t get me wrong. But I-I’ve talked to Isabelle a few times since the wedding, and she always brings you up. And it’s always positive.”

“What does this have to do with my feelings for her?”

“Do you feel like maybe you feel like you’re not good enough for her? Is that partially why you’re hesitating on telling her? Take out the fact that she was in a long relationship before and broke off an engagement.”

He blinks. “She told you about the engagement thing?”

“Yeah. She came out to Jersey to grab dinner with Jack and I, like, two weeks before she moved to California and told us then. That’s not the point.”

He doesn’t remember Belle mentioning that. But like Amelie said, not the point. “I-I don’t know. Maybe.”

“Trevor. You’re one of the best people I know.”

“That can’t be true,” he tries to protest. 

“But it is,” Amelie presses on. “You’re loyal. You’re funny. You have the ability to make anyone feel comfortable, even if you just met them. Your infectious energy elevates every room you walk into. You care deeply about everyone in your life. You were the first of Jack’s friends to be so openly kind to me and you continued to be kind to me even when I didn’t deserve it.” 

“I’m loud. Harsh. Always has to be on the go or I get bored. Life of the party maybe and a fun time usually, but that’s it.”

Amelie scoffs. “Respectfully, shut the fuck up. Okay, you’re all of those things, so what? You think she doesn’t already know? She probably knows better than any of us. I get being hesitant to do anything because she’s maybe on a different page, I get that. But it’s not because you’re not good enough. Get that shit out of your head.”

Trevor has to laugh, both at the abruptness of this call and unbridled honesty from Amelie’s voice. “I’m not gonna lie. Getting chewed out by my best friend’s wife wasn’t on the list of things I expected today.”

“If you think I’m chewing you out now, you’re lucky Clementine doesn’t know about this yet.”

Trevor actually shudders at the possibility of Clementine Sandoval (well, Clementine Hischier as of two years ago but old habits die hard), lecturing him about this. He still remembers Clem’s lectures she would give Quinn, Jack and Luke when they were all in Michigan. They would usually be over the phone, since she was already out in California for school by then, but even at 17, Trevor knew she wasn’t someone to be messed with. Who else in the world, besides Ellen Weinberg-Hughes, can somehow lecture all three Hughes brothers successfully in one breath?

“She doesn’t?”

“Eh, usually she would. But she’s in her last trimester and Nico would kill me if I stressed her out more.”

And well, Trevor thinks that’s fair enough. He quiets again, thinking. “You think we could be a good match? Belle and I?”

“Yes,” Amelie says with no hesitation. “And I’m not going to tell you why, because I’m pretty sure deep down, you already know.” 

He kinda hates that she’s right. Damn, is he this easy to read? He hangs up, but not before promising to give her a call more often. 

As they’re leaving practice, Jamie nudges him with his shoulder. “How’s Isabelle?”

“She’s good. She has a wedding in Santa Monica this weekend so I haven’t seen her that much this week.” 

“She a good roommate?”

Trevor smirks and elbows him lightly. “Better than you ever were.”

Jamie’s jaw drops, indignant. “Hey! I was a great roommate, thank you very much.”

“You were, you were. Nah, she’s great. We did Christmas just the two of us and it was really nice.”

“Just the two of you?”

“Fuck off, Jimmy.”

“I’m just asking! She chose not to fly home and stayed here with you instead. Ever think about what that could mean?”

Trevor has thought about it a lot recently, actually. But Jamie doesn’t need to know that. He lets out an uncommitted noise, but the look on Jamie’s face tells him that he’s not fooling anyone. Least of all, one of his dearest friends. 

Trevor needs to tell her soon. Or get over it. 

…..

Trevor never thought to really ask Belle if she wanted to go to a game, which is weird, because why wouldn’t he want a friend out in the stands to cheer him on? But he also knows that Belle wouldn’t be afraid to just ask if she wanted to go, and that her ideal time to unwind after work isn’t necessarily to go into a rowdy arena. She’s perfectly content snuggling in on the couch and watching the game on TV.

But when he mentions that Cole and the Canadiens are coming into town to play, she perks up. During the whole wedding weekend, Trevor could tell that she got pretty comfortable with Cole. Which, to Trevor, makes complete sense. Cole has the ability to make friends quickly and genuinely anywhere he goes. He leaves a ticket on the counter before heading to morning skate, as well as a note allowing her permission to raid his closet for any Ducks merch she so desires to wear. 

The game is a fun battle that goes into OT, but Leo gets the game winner with an assist from Trevor and the Honda Center goes nuts. Trevor has plans to grab dinner with Cole and Belle, and he’s in good spirits during media before he meets up with Cole and goes outside to where he told Belle to meet them. 

The boys see her before she sees them. Belle’s leaning against the wall of the arena on her phone, one of his jerseys tucked into black jeans and a black blazer completing the look. Cole calls out her name and she immediately puts her phone away with a smile, letting Cole hug her tightly with a chuckle. Trevor trails behind, watching the scene in happiness. Trevor tells Belle where he made dinner reservations, and she gets into her own car to follow them. 

As Trevor watches Cole and Belle talk at dinner, it’s overwhelming, his love for her. Cole’s pulling out some old-school stories from way back during their program days and Belle’s absolutely loving it, pulling out some of her own stories from her college days and Trevor feels so fucking lucky. There’s a particular thing that Cole says that has her coughing up her water and she’s laughing so hard and Trevor feels so fucking fond. 

Tomorrow, he promises himself. He has to tell her tomorrow.

…..

He doesn’t tell her tomorrow. But in his defense, he has to go on a road trip and she’s busy at work. 

Somehow, after dinner with Cole, he had gone to sleep earlier than she did but had woken up before her to a short but sweet note on the kitchen counter. In her cursive, he smiles at her words. 

Trev, 

Thank you for dinner and a fun game <3 Wanted to tell you tonight but by the time I got out of the bathroom you were already in bed (old man). Good luck on your road trip to wherever!! 

Love, 

Belle

He takes the note and folds it carefully, tucking it into his wallet. 

…..

At the end of the day, he ends up just blurting it out. 

He comes home from the road trip to the smell of something absolutely delicious floating through the house. He peeks his head around the corner to see Belle flittering around the kitchen, stirring something in a pot. The oven beeps and Trevor decides to make his presence known. 

“Smells good in here.”

Belle looks over her shoulder and he realizes she’s wearing one of his Ducks hoodies he must’ve had lying around. She beams. “Hey! Welcome home. I felt like making some good old grilled cheese and tomato soup with some roasted vegetables because I guess we need those. Don’t tell your coaches if this fucks up your diet-”

“I love you.” 

And well, shit, because that’s definitely not how he pictured this going. For a split second, he thinks he imagined it. But Belle freezes, her back towards him, and he has no idea what to do.

After what seems like a lifetime, she turns off the stove and turns around. “What?”

Trevor walks forward, “I love you. I’m in love with you. And I know you probably don’t feel the same way and that’s okay! I really don’t want this to change anything between us because I love our friendship. But I-I had to say it because it’s driving me crazy not saying it.”

“Trevor-”

“I know. I know. I’m sorry. Y-you’re such an important part of my life and I really hope this didn’t fuck everything up-”

Belle rushes towards him to put her hands on his shoulders, steadying him. He forces himself to take a deep breath and to stop his hands from shaking, staring at his feet. He’s breathing really fast, but Belle’s orange blossom perfume and touch calms him down ever so slightly. 

“You good?”

He swallows roughly. “Yeah, yeah. Sorry.”

“You don’t need to apologize,” she says softly. He gets the courage to look at her face. He sees her smile and he can’t help but smile too. She clears her throat. “I-I thought it was clear, but I guess I’m out of practice. I feel the same way, Trevor. I like you a lot. Maybe not…love. Yet. B-but you’ve become my favorite person. And these last few months have been so…lovely. I just-I haven’t said anything because I don’t know if I’m ready yet.”

“That’s okay,” Trevor rushes to assure. Because holy shit, she likes him back? This was farther than he thought he was going to get. He chuckles lightly. “I…shit. Sorry. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the fact you like me like that.”

“Trevor,” she trails her hands down his arms to grab both of his hands. “Of course I do.”

“Oh,” he says softly. 

Belle’s eyes water, and Trevor immediately feels the surge to make her feel better. “But I don’t know if I’m ready, Trev. I don’t know when I will be. And I can’t be the asshole and ask you to wait.”

“Why not?” Trevor challenges.

Belle looks at him incredulously. “Because that’s unfair.”

“Well too bad. Because I’m not gonna listen to you.”

“What?”

“As long as you need. Take your time. I mean it. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. I promise.”

She bites her lip, “Trevor, you can’t possibly promise something like that.”

“I can, actually. And I will.”

She opens her mouth, then closes it, before laughing. She squeezes her eyes shut as he places his hands on her cheeks to cup her face. “Okay.”

He raises an eyebrow playfully. “You’re not gonna fight me?”

She shakes her head. “You’ve never been the kind of person to back down.”

He laughs and he so wants to kiss her. But he doesn’t, instead just placing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “You’ll let me know when you’re ready?”

“If you’re still around,” she jokes. 

Trevor grins, his heart growing four times its size. He feels like it might explode out of his chest. “I’ll always be around for you.”

[songsofadelaide]

The Loneliest Time

cw/tw: Company heir Gojo Satoru x novelist (f) reader, no curses au, there is only one apartment, no use of yn and instead follows my usual naming convention (I use Otome as a placeholder for yn since it means maiden, which pretty much means yn too + the surname Koganei [小金井] which means tiny gold town), mentions of (ex-boyfriend) Ryomen Sukuna x reader, meet ugly, drunken flirting, fluff and smut but no actual sex, falling in love, slice of life, drama, mentions of businesses, crime syndicates and racketeering, codependence and independence— both Gojo and the reader run away from personal baggage and eventually overcome them. ✧ Please kindly see yourself out if you're uncomfortable with fics using placeholder names for the reader. I do not use 'yn' in any of my fics. I still use 'you'/second person pronouns and write with a generic (f) reader in mind. wc: 17.3k

Scraping off the remnants of your earnings from your first book to get yourself that 1LDK in the heart of the city wasn't on your plans, but you were desperate to escape from your hometown… But no matter how alluring the city was, its dangers still existed.

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk. He insists you are the one trespassing in his cosy little home.

In which the elderly landlady mistakenly offers one (1) vacant unit to you— a down-on-her-luck writer looking for a fresh start— and the infamous, runaway, reluctant heir of the Japanese household name, Six Eyes Enterprises, and all the chaos, falling into love and finding yourselves that ensues thereafter.

— You.

The realisation that the world was messy and imperfect came to you the moment you found out your boyfriend of nearly a decade was an underground kingpin in your shared hometown. His notoriety reached you in the form of a nameless, pretty young woman informing you of your dethronement, stupid as it may have sounded. 

It was clear to you by now that the Sukuna you spoke of wasn't the same one you fell in love with before. Sukuna, who was once kind and sweet, now became abrasive and neglectful and he made up for his change of nature by lavishing you with so many presents that weren't exactly to your taste, but you thanked him nonetheless. 

Everyone urged you to be patient with the man, to wait— He's making a name for himself, making sure he provides you with a future worth looking forward to— Marriage has always been a bigger deal for women rather than men, but you could live without it, though sometimes you daydream a little. What's it like to wear a pretty ring? To have someone come home to you?

And what about you? Weren't you trying to make something out of yourself as well? 

He wasn't there on the day your first book was published and released, but in his place came an ostentatious bouquet of red roses and a simple note of congratulations. Still, the publishing house gushed at the sweet gesture of a busy boyfriend who kept his girlfriend in mind and managed to make time for her by sending her flowers. 

It was Yuuji who brought you to the hospital when you came down with a bad case of food poisoning, your family flocking to your side not long after he contacted them. Sukuna was caught up in some business transaction, but apples and oranges and every other sweet fruit that could fit in a basket were sent to your hospital room later that evening. 

You disliked how much Yuuji looked like his brother in his youth. In your drug-induced delirium, you screamed at the boy to leave you alone because that's all his brother has ever done for the last few years. 

In a perfect world, you most probably would have settled down with him— Sukuna, your long-term boyfriend. Yuuji adored you, too, and he'd have no qualm calling you his older sister for real if you ever did end up with his older brother.

Sukuna was there the day you were discharged. His suit and tie were a gorgeous coal-black and didn't look like something a regular salaryman would don to work. His car was new, too something you haven't seen on him before. He apologised for barely being there for you when you needed him most, chalking it up to the demands of his work. He was surprisingly talkative, too, chattering about how he kept your shared apartment clean and how he'd devote this day to you, to make up for all his shortcomings ever since he took on that job, whatever it was. 

How he managed to sweet-talk his way to your bed? You'll never know for sure. He was all smiles as your elderly neighbours cooed over you like mother hens would their newborn chicks after they heard of your last trip to the hospital. When he kissed you goodbye for the day, the older women gushed at him as well. 

"He'll be a good husband to you, just look at how he cares for you now!"

And you… could only smile at them. No warmth or truth, just pure disdain for him— and for yourself as well, for putting up with it. For tolerating it.

You were certain the love you shared in your youth was genuine, but what about now? Was he tired? Unlikely. Sukuna still came to you for solace and warmth— to feel your softness in his arms, but only on his terms. He always made sure that his gestures were grand and seen by everyone in your shared circle. 

Then it dawned on you— You must have been his front, a good woman to match his image of a law-abiding family man. He loved his grandfather and little brother and he probably loved you, too, but not so much to even consider asking you to marry him. It was clear to you by now that marriage wasn't in his cards, and was he breaking up with you out of pity? You didn't need any of it, though.

The pretty thing expected a struggle, perhaps a bit of hair-pulling, too, but you responded with a sigh and a shrug. "I suppose it's been a long time coming."

Ten years ago, your classmate Sukuna, star of the track and field club and the demon of the third Sugisawa Municipal High School, confessed to you while you were sharing your textbook with him in class. And despite his brashness and popularity, he was a surprisingly kind boyfriend to you. 

But now, all he was is a stranger.  

Despite your family's dissuading, as well as Yuuji beseeching you not to leave Sendai (poor kid's just caught between you and his older brother's breakup), you packed everything you could take from this town and just left. You could have your latest manuscript sent to you or burned to ashes, but at this point, it didn't really matter anymore. There was little your family and local publisher could do now that you've moved to Shibuya, in the heart of the city, your hand throbbing in excitement as the elderly landlady handed you the key to your own place after handling your documents for the apartment— a cosy little 1LDK that cost a bit more than you originally budgeted for, but for your peace of mind? 

Priceless. 

— And the other side of the coin.

There were things Satoru Gojo could easily talk his way through: an officer barring his way down the road, a nightclub bouncer blocking his entry, his personal bodyguard Suguru Geto stopping him from making even more unwise decisions, and even his own mother beseeching him to grow up.  

As a child, he was given nearly everything he asked for like a typical spoiled brat— wild and wily and absolutely cunning, too, for he wasn't above using the facade of a precocious, charming boy to get what he wants. He was once his family's delight, but all he was now is a menace.  

He always seemed to grow older and more charming but never really wiser.  

"What use is all that studying English and arithmetic when we all know for a fact that you can't make any sound decisions?" Suguru, his secretary, all-around attendant, bodyguard and confidant, once scolded him in their youth. "You will have to start making wise ones one of these days."

And his bodyguard was right about that. Satoru was smart— book-smart— but not exactly the wisest. His inability to look beyond his current situations and necessities and his precarious lifestyle were liabilities not just to him, but to the company he was set to inherit. As the sole heir to the Six Eyes Enterprises, he showed up to board meetings when it required his presence and was frequently given a pass for all of his supposedly innocent immaturity. However, the shareholders and board of directors have seen enough.  

"I refuse to put my faith in this… boy," said Yoshinobu Gakuganji, one of the company's biggest movers. "If he refuses to step up to the plate, then I will have to take my business elsewhere."  

This was something Satoru Gojo thought he could easily talk his way through, but he didn't since he couldn't. Surprisingly enough, his parents were on the board's side with this one. Suguru didn't have to speak at all— the look of disdain on his face was clear as day. Still, the latter would never give voice to his disappointment since that was above his pay grade. 

Satoru could get behind the directors talking shit about him, but for them to police his every move, his circle of friends, the way he managed himself and his personal affairs, and then there's that potential arranged marriage with that mad woman, too… What was her name again? Ma… Makima? Whatever. He was partly glad the company didn't have such blind faith in him, because the child in him, whose every whim and demand was granted, would certainly doom the entire enterprise if he so wanted.  

And he wanted nothing more than to crush the damn thing to smithereens.  

On Suguru's day off, Satoru solemnly vowed to remain home that very day, but he left so soundlessly that they would've mistaken it for a kidnapping. Satoru was worth millions, if not trillions, and the kidnappers would have taken everything the manchild could easily access by himself. 

Suguru hadn't an inkling of what his charge planned to do. How could he, after all, when Satoru swore to stay in his sweatpants and out of trouble?  

On the day he vanished from his family home, he left all of his credit and debit cards linked to the company and simply disabled his phone's GPS. He took his personal, unlinked credit card, the one he used to buy his sweets and vices with, and paid an elderly landlady a hefty deposit for a tiny, inconspicuous 1LDK in the heart of the city.

Shibuya, the heart of Tokyo. Satoru paid no mind to the moving boxes lined neatly across the living room, bright eyes ever focused on the trees hiding the visible cityscape. The windows were open, too, a cool afternoon breeze blowing into the space. 

He may miss Suguru, but probably not all of his incessant chidings. 

Oh. There was no sharp interjection after realising he just zoned out. 

Perfect.

— Collide.

The excitement of the move and the exhaustion of handling everything that followed afterwards made you incredibly restless overnight, but you still felt quite rested despite all of that. You were awoken by the gentle sunlight that filtered through the flimsy curtains provided by the elderly landlady. 

You reached for your phone on the makeshift bedside table made up of more boxes containing your belongings. You recall turning it off before going to bed so that you wouldn't jump at every notification you received. When you turned it back on, a wave of pings and pops greeted you, but you were more concerned about the sound of gentle clattering coming from your kitchen. 

Shit. Robbers this early? I thought this place was safe!

One of the many lavish yet useless things your ex-boyfriend bought for you was an unused set of golf clubs. The bag rested on the corner of your still half-empty bedroom and you found yourself slowly tiptoeing to grab one. 

Welp. You felt yourself swallow in anxiety. When you twisted the doorknob open and slowly crept out, you found one tall man standing before your newly-stocked refrigerator. His face was uncovered and he was in… sweatpants? He didn't give you robber vibes at all. 

There was a handsome stranger in your new kitchen, helping himself to your newly-bought carton of fresh milk.

"E-Excuse me?! Who the hell are you and what are you doing in my apartment?!" 

The silver-haired stranger spat out the milk in surprise at your remark. "Excuse you! This is my apartment!"

You squeaked in surprise as he made his approach, but you raised the golf club higher as you were backed into a wall. He raised his arm and cornered you before wrenching the club from your hands.

"You—"

But you mustered your strength and adrenaline on your legs and jumped, the crown of your head hitting him squarely on his chin, just enough for him to black out for a moment, just enough for you to make a run for it. 

"Tengen-san!" You screamed as you made your way down to the apartment's management office, not at all caring for your state of undress. "Help! Th-There's a scary man in my unit!" 

It didn't take long for the three of you to be seated altogether in the office, warm cups of green tea served for you and the tall stranger in his— your apartment a few minutes ago. 

The elderly landlady Tengen had nothing but apologies for both of you. "I understand a real estate agent wouldn't have made such an embarrassing mishap, but I'm used to handling tenants and their documents… Perhaps my age has gotten the better of me."

She presented two copies of the lease to Unit 0041, and both of your seals in red signed off on the agreement. "My sincerest apologies. It seems I leased out the unit to both of you, but upon further inspection…"

Satoru held an ice pack to his reddened chin, the grimace on his face still evident even underneath those dark eyeglasses he now had on. 

"If I may, Gojo Satoru-san," the older woman started. "It appears Koganei Otome-san signed with me first. I can refer you to another place nearby if you would like it."

You were pleased to hear your name come out as the true owner and tenant of the unit, even though you were the first to run out of it in your encounter. The silver-haired man inspected the papers and found you edged him out of signing by just a few hours. You really did come first.

"…Sure, all right. Only because it's the gentlemanly thing to do," he stated. "But you should know that she assaulted me—"

"E-Excuse you! I acted out of self-defence because you looked like you were about to attack me!" You argued right back at him. 

"If I wanted to attack you, I would have thrown the carton of milk at you." 

You couldn't tell for certain, but you felt him narrow his eyes at you. "We could have had a perfectly normal conversation without you backing me into a corner!"

And from across the table with the untouched tea, the elderly Tengen could only sigh amid the bickering. 

Upon Satoru's approval, Tengen worked to find the young man a new home nearby, but he would have to remain with you in the meantime. The two of you returned to the minimal chaos brought about by your un-meet cute.  

"Do you even play golf? You don't look like you have the calves for it," the young man stated as he picked up the wood he dropped earlier. 

"No, I don't," you snippily replied. The needless argument somehow drained the energy out of you that you hadn't even the strength to swipe the club from him. "It was a present from my…"

"Ex-husband?" Satoru interjected. "What a strange gift to give his wife."

"No," you shook your head, admiring the shining piece of metal in your hands. "Just an ex-boyfriend."

"And… you moved here after your breakup? What, did he not want to marry you or something?" 

You pursed your lips. Oh, I don't need to get all emotional. He's just a stranger! "I don't have to explain anything to you." 

"I take it you're about to cry," he went on, his blue eyes meeting your glassy ones. "Please don't."

You bent down and buried your face into your knees, unwilling to show any more to the stranger you shared your space with. You were, however, willing to speak. Seeing as you weren't going to see him ever again…

"I'm a writer from Sendai," you started, voice muffled between your arms. "I'm a nobody here, but Sendai considers me a living treasure for encouraging youths to read through my writing. I might just be some shitty romance novelist here, but I paid for this pad with nearly everything I had."

Satoru sank into the couch where he slept last night, eyeing you in the corner of the living room. 

"I'm just trying to restart here, far away from all of the noise back home, with everyone telling me to settle down, even though I'm ready… But the proposal never came and he didn't even break up with me in person," you groaned. "I suppose I've earned your ridicule, so go ahead and laugh."

"A restart, huh?" He said absentmindedly. "Yeah, I hear you there."

You peeked at him through your messy hair. "And you? You look like you can afford better than this…"

"Ever heard of being inconspicuous?" He told you from across the room. "I know I can afford better, but I didn't wanna risk getting caught."

He swore he saw you flinch on the spot. "No, I'm not a criminal."

A sigh of relief. He almost laughed. This was a situation he could talk his way through. He ran a hand over his nape, thinking of the perfect approach. Girl's obviously been dumped, so let's appeal to her emotions a little.

"I apologise for scaring you earlier. That wasn't my intention," Satoru rose from the couch and bent down before you, his large hand now resting on your head, surprisingly gentle with you. "We signed a lease for this unit for the very same reason, so don't you think we should at least restart our first meeting in a more… amicable manner?"

You slowly raised your head to meet his gaze, a piercing bright blue that made you feel both safe and uneasy. "I guess…" 

"It's a pleasure to meet you, writer-san," he said with a grin. "I am Gojo Satoru, a… runaway of sorts."

Gojo… where did you hear that name before? Ah, well… not that it matters.

"My name is…" You gave him your name through parched lips. "You're free to stay here for as long as you need, but please replace the milk you drank earlier." 

"I'll do that and more, so cheer up," he chuckled. "Does chicken and beer sound good? Let's have some delivered." 

Delightful, you thought. I could use some food after all that's happened. "If you're paying, then by all means."

You only realised now that drinking in the afternoon was fun. That playing hooky in the afternoon was fun. The living room hardly felt empty with all the jokes Satoru made and all the laughter you shared in between. Your coffee table was laden with the best fried chicken in town, cans of chilled Kirin Ichiban, and a delectable strawberry shortcake that all went down in the hatch smoothly and easily, but you were probably just hungry after all of that crying.  

"I am on my fourth beer now, Satoru. You hardly touched yours!"

"It's because I only opened this out of courtesy," he said, gently shaking his half-empty beer can in hand. "You're probably tipsy, now that you mentioned it."

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" You drew away as he reached to pull your— he counted the empty silver cans on your side of the table— fifth can of beer from your hands.

"That's your fifth. Come on, you've obviously lost count," he stated, his slender fingers prying away the nearly empty can from your hands. "If you're tired…"

"I'm… I'm not," you murmured, breath hot from all the alcohol you consumed. The two of you sat closely on the floor, knees brushing against each other without a care about the sudden closeness you shared.

"Are you gonna cry again?" He asked, jokingly at first, but he couldn't help but brush his index finger on your cheek to cheer you up. You contentedly melted into his touch, his palm warm against your even warmer cheek. His thumb grazed over your closed eyelids, dragging away the burning hot tears that pooled in your eyes. 

"You have big hands," you said, holding his wrist in place as though he'd leave. 

"I think it's the other way around. Your face is small," he replied, tempering his grip on you. He had this monstrous tendency to break anything he comes into contact with and he didn't want to hurt you any more than you were now. 

"I should be proud of myself for this, for moving— moving forward," you felt yourself cry yet again. Ah, how embarrassing. But this man has seen nearly everything you could possibly show in a day— your state of undress, the indomitable spirit that brought you all the way from your little hometown to the heart of Tokyo, and all the hurt you carried with you even though you could have just left that behind.

"Why do I feel so sad and pitiful?" 

Satoru didn't speak, only listening to how your voice cracked under the weight of your pathetic self-pitying. He thought you were pretty at first, but why were you crying when you were having such a good time with him? He despised crying while having a good time. The women he usually took out on dates were always shining and fun to be around, no matter how shallow and hollow it may have been. Burying the sadness and self-loathing was easy in the noise his life brought him, but to sit here quietly with someone who wanted to deal with the issues in her life made him feel uneasy. And to think she was about to do all of it by herself.  

He didn't want to sit with someone so sad and miserable because now he felt like he was looking into a cracked mirror, a thousand replicas of his own sadness reflected right back at him. 

"I'm sorry. I know we're having such a good time, but the sadness is just there, sitting in the damn corner and I just want to kick it further." 

"Hear you there," he replied. You only noticed now how broad his shoulders really were with his entire torso facing you.

"What are you running away from?" You asked him, your grip on his wrist slightly tightening. 

"Noise," he chuckled. "So I'd appreciate it if you could be a bit quieter."

"Sorry, sorry. Of course," you whispered, nervously licking your lips before pursing them once more.  

Getting drunk with a stranger was against your good judgement. Hell, opening up to him was against your good judgement, too, but you didn't have to worry about that since he'll be moving away once the landlady finds him a new place. He will be a stranger again in no time. 

Oh, the goodbyes never stop, do they? The tears clung to your lashes, but you managed to wipe them away. "No more crying. For now."

Satoru smiled at you. "Sounds good. Now don't fall asleep here."

"Ah, but I'm st— Oh!" You shrieked in surprise at how easily he lifted you from the floor and slung you over his shoulder like a piece of luggage. "Haha! S-Satoru, please! I—"

Part of you was half-expecting him to throw you on your unmade bed and leave you to sleep, but he laid you down with all the gentleness of a mother cradling her child to sleep. His hand was warm on your back, over the cotton of your clothes, and larger than you initially thought.

"Sleep well, my sweet princess. Rest your weary little heart. I will be outsi—" 

You gently tugged at the sleeve of his sweater before he could completely draw away from you. "Satoru…"

His name left your lips so warmly and tenderly that it made him want to hear it again. It was his name. Satoru. Not ouji-san, not Gojo-san, not baby, not brat. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"If you can prove to me that you're not as drunk as I think you are…" Satoru had his knee on your bed now, his wide torso looming over you as you sank into your blankets and comforters.

"Did you know that the emperor is the utmost spearhead of the Imperial Family of Japan? Under the Japanese Constitution, Emperor Naruhito is considered a symbol of the Japanese state and the unity of all its people—" 

Satoru laughed— low, hearty and surprisingly sweet. You weren't even able to continue your monologue when he leaned down and kissed you quiet. This was against your good judgement, but the day has been incredibly long and you feel like you've known him for years now. 

There was no leaving the room now that you coiled your arms around his neck. You drew him in every second he pulled away, but you had nothing to worry about. He smiled between your kisses, contentedly drinking in every sound that left your lips until he's had his fill. 

He wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, after all.

The morning sun was warm, tickling your eyes open even though you didn't want to wake up yet. Your covers were heavy on top of you, but you moved to reach for the person lying next to you. 

It was Satoru, the morning sun beating over his bare back. He was still soundly asleep, pale lashes fanned out even though his eyes were closed. You gently reached for him, taking a lock of his hair in your fingers. Silver. The strands curled around your finger easily. "Pretty…" 

What time is it? You barely checked your phone after your encounter yesterday and it's completely dead now. On the floor were clothes from yesterday and a few used condoms which Satoru carefully wrapped in tissues. You didn't dare count anymore. 

Strong arms coiled around your waist as you attempted to slowly creep out of bed. Satoru drew you back closer to him, your back softly colliding against his chest. He nuzzled your neck, effectively tickling you breathless. "Come on now… You can't just call a man 'pretty' and expect him not to do anything."

"Sorry, sorry! H-Hey!" You laughed. "Satoru! S-Stop! HAHAHA!" 

He'd usually be in a hurry to leave after trysts and flings, but he couldn't bring himself to leave the warmth of your bed and the feel of your laughter reverberating in his own chest. 

Funny how you were threatening him with a golf club at this same time yesterday.

"Ah, no, please! Let me go for a bit. I-I'm going to the supermarket to buy some stuff," you wheezed at him while gently squirming away from his hold. 

"What, seriously? I wanna go, too!" He stated, rising just as you did. 

"Then let's get a move on!" 

You were used to going to the supermarket on your own, so it was a bit strange having someone following you around. Satoru made himself helpful by carrying the shopping basket for you and reaching for items you couldn't.

"What would you like for lunch?" You asked, not at all turning to him but knowing he was just right behind you. You picked up a bottle of mirin and checked its price. "How about some fish and miso soup?"

"Sounds good!" Satoru replied. You could tell his eyes vanished into his smile even through his dark sunglasses. Every once in a while, he would take your hand in his and beam at you with so much affection that it elicited whispers from the other women in the area. 

Well, he is super good-looking, you thought to yourself. Even in casual wear, the silver-haired man commanded the attention of the room even by just standing impeccably still.

You ran a quick inventory of all the items in your basket before eventually turning to its carrier, satisfied with its contents. "Oh, are you not getting anything for yourself? Like sweets? You should grab some while we're here."

"Ah, well, I wouldn't want to impose…" Satoru said, a little taken aback by your consideration. If it were someone else, they'd just order whatever they wanted without even thinking of me.  

"You know, the cake was the only thing you touched last night," it was your turn to smile at him. "Oh, let's grab some gummy candy or something!"

It was you who took him by the hand this time, leisurely pulling him to the sweets and snacks aisle. "How about some cola gummies? Or fruit gummies?"

On a normal date, Satoru would let the women order whatever they wanted, no holds barred, and many would take the opportunity to try out things they haven't. He was used to that sense of entitlement from other people, but consideration was a rather new concept for him. 

"Fruit gummies would be nice." 

"Let's try these yogurt gummies, too," you stated, happily dumping a few more packs of the said sweets into your shopping basket. When you lined up at the cashier to have your items rung, you were so busy making sure you didn't forget anything that you didn't notice him taking out his wallet from the tiny cross-body bag on his chest. He was already at the supermarket entrance with your groceries in hand.

"Ah, wait! I haven't paid—" You exclaimed, hastily pulling out your own wallet from your purse.

"Your husband paid for your groceries with his card, okyaku-san," the kind cashier stated. 

"H-He's—" You squeaked at their remark, only for Satoru to beckon you to come over, the same Cheshire Cat smile on his face. 

"Let's go home! I'm starving!"

Neither of you paid mind to the shadow that followed your trail because of your preoccupation with planning your meals for the day.

In your old apartment in Sendai, there was a small money box that contained funds for grocery shopping. Sukuna often refilled that box without even looking if you've spent the money beforehand. 

It's been two years since you stopped opening the box because you've only been buying food for yourself. It still sat there along with his other belongings.

You probably didn't notice the twinkle in your eyes while unpacking your groceries from earlier, but you bought food for two people today. 

Well, Satoru paid for it— and without even telling you. "You know I can wire you the money—" 

"Nope, not happening," he interjected, closing the refrigerator door behind him after helping you restock it. "Please, you're letting me stay over at no cost. The least I could do is buy us some food."

"O-Oh," came your response. You didn't really have a rebuttal for that. 

"Mm, all good," Satoru stated with a long-drawn stretch of his arms. "Would it be all right if I take a shower first?" 

"Ah, sure. I'll go after you, then," you replied, running another inventory in your head as you started preparing your brunch. "Let's see, the mackerel, the salt, a bit of mirin… Oh, and the miso and dashi…"

"Orrr… We can conserve water by showering together," he said, placing his hands on the kitchen counter and trapping you between his arms. He leaned down and brushed a warm yet faint kiss on your nape, prompting you to turn back and face him. 

"S-Satoru!" You sputtered, a hand on his chest as you tried to avoid his bright gaze. "P-Please take your bath!" 

"All right, all right," he slowly backed off, but not before brushing another kiss on your burning hot cheek this time. "If you can wait for me, we can prepare lunch together. More hands make work easier, yeah?"

"I-I suppose so…" 

"Great. Then wait for me and I'll wait for you." 

You decided to check your phone and emails while you were waiting for Satoru to finish his shower. Among the many missed calls you received was from Tatara san, your editor from Sendai. What could they want? 

And so you rang them. "Ah, hello, Tatara-san! Yes, it's me…"

"Koganei-san! I'm so glad you got in touch with me. How have you been?"

"I've been well, thank you for your concern." 

"That's good to hear. Listen, I'm not going to beat around the bush anymore because I don't know when I'll get in touch with you again, but it seems the publishing house isn't ready to let you go just yet."

Oh? "Oh. I-Is that so?"

"We're reaching out to some associates in Shibuya who can pick up my work and become your editor. Of course, I would prefer being the one to work with you instead, but I suppose a local editor who can meet with you more often is still the better option."

"I see. Thank you for letting me know about this, Tatara-san. I appreciate it."

"You're a treasure of Sendai, Koganei-san. Many young people have taken an interest in both reading and writing thanks to your influence. Please do keep it up."

"Of course. Thank you for taking care of me and my work as well." 

"Ah, here we are. An associate publishing house will get in touch with you soon, so please make sure you're reachable."

"Yes, certainly." 

Your phone was hot on your cheek despite the short conversation, but you could tell that it was just your elation. It feels good to be wanted.  

You scrolled through the rest of your messages and social media before eventually tossing your phone on your still-unmade bed. "Okay, let's tidy up a bit."

Among the clothes on your bed was Satoru's sweater from last night. It was from a popular high fashion brand and that further strengthened your theory that he must be some kind of trust fund baby. You were halfway through folding the thing when you decided to slip it on, hands trembling as you did so. 

"As I thought, his torso is insanely long," you absentmindedly remarked. Your hands didn't even make it completely through the sleeves yet.

"Well, if you want one in your size, I can—"

"Eep! S-Satoru! I— Th-This isn't what—" You jumped in your spot, startled by his entry to your room. He was clad in nothing but his bath towel, silver hair still dripping with warm water as he stood by the doorframe. 

That insanely long torso was ripped, not that you really noticed it in the dark last night. 

"You look good in that brand," Satoru said as he made his approach. He took your shaking arm in his and smoothed out the sleeve until your hand made it through. He brought your wrist to his lips. 

Ding-dong. "Good afternoon! Delivery!"

The two of you exchanged glances before you managed to tell him, "I didn't order anything, though…"

"Neither did I," he stated. "Wait here. Let me check that."

"H-Hey, at least put a shirt on!"

You were contemplating getting another golf club from your bag as Satoru opened the door. We didn't have anything delivered… Could this be a scam or something? The crashing noise from the living room confirmed your suspicions, so you grabbed the nearest one you could get. "Satoru!" 

The door was wide open, and to your shock, a tall brunette held the half-naked silver-haired man in a headlock. 

"Waka!" The dark-haired stranger exclaimed. "You little shit! What the hell have you been doing?!"

"L-Let him go! Let him go!" You grabbed the man in the suit by his arm and tried to shrug away his grip on your roommate. He eventually relented, Satoru falling on his back as he was unceremoniously dropped.

"Satoru! Are you okay?!" You got to your knees in near tears as you shook him by his bare shoulders. "Satoru!"

"I'm all right, Otome," he said with a sigh. "Took you long enough, Suguru."  

The tall brunette in a neat ponytail grimaced before eventually removing his blazer and dropping it on Satoru. "What? Did you think I wouldn't try everything to find you and your irresponsible ass? Did you think I wouldn't have this city staked out after you ran out on me so many times now?"

"Eugh, it reeks of cigarette smoke," the silver-haired man threw the coat back at Suguru, who then turned his dark gaze to you. 

"Who are you?"

"I-I… Uh…" You raised your hands in defence. "I-I'm just—"

"Ugh, whatever," he slipped on his dark coat as easily as he took it off moments ago. "Surely you're just interested in this guy's money like every other girl he's taken out and paid attention to." 

Your brows furrowed in annoyance at his remark. "Wh—"

"Suguru, I don't appreciate you speaking to her that way," Satoru interjected, finally standing up from the floor. "She's important to me." 

The brunette snorted. "Important? Since when did strangers you picked up become important to you?"

"On the contrary, it was her who took me in."

An unknown ringtone sounded through the living room. It was Suguru's phone. "I have to take this. Please put some damn clothes on." 

You hurriedly removed the oversized sweater you still had on and handed it to Satoru. "H-Here, put this on for the meantime."

"Yes, I found him," you heard the brunette remark from the hallway. "I'll send you the address. Please bring one of his suits… I don't really care which one, just bring it over." 

He had a frown on his face as he took his sweater from your hands. "I'm sorry. I haven't been completely honest with you. I didn't think they'd catch up to me so soon."

"Nanami and Haibara are on their way, so finish your business here," Suguru stated as he entered the unit once more.

"Still, I hope this doesn't colour your opinion of me and our… friendship," the silver-haired man took both your hands in his. "I am Gojo Satoru, heir and future president of the Six Eyes Enterprises."

What? "Eh?" 

"Waka, stop making grand introductions to strangers!" The brunette exclaimed once more. 

"Wait, you're that Gojo Satoru? The only child of the famous supermodel Endou Arisu? Who retired from her life on the runway after marrying into a rich family to raise her son? That Satoru?" You furrowed your brows once more. Why are you telling me this?

Satoru nodded at you. "Sums it up."

"Okay, cool. I don't get why you're telling me this, but if this information falls into the wrong hands, who knows what could happen to you?" 

"What?" He blinked his blue eyes at you as though he was confused. I think he really is.  

"What?" You shot back at him. "You didn't tell me you had an actual job. Let me get lunch done in a jiffy."

"Well, sure. If—" 

"And your, uh…" You trailed off, cautiously looking over at the glaring brunette. "What is he, exactly?" 

"Suguru is my bodyguard, secretary, all-around babysitter… Basically, the guy who keeps me out of trouble." 

"Then he can stay for lunch, too." 

Satoru's pale blue suit was in stark contrast to Suguru's dark set. It was crisp and well-pressed, topped off with a little splash of Versace Eros and paired up with shined mahogany brown dress shoes.

The blue-eyed man sat across you from your dinner table, happily digging into the grilled mackerel you painstakingly cooked under Suguru's watchful glare.

"What's your deal? You even welcomed me for lunch," he started, arms crossed over his broad chest. "If it's a ransom or reward you want—"

"I want nothing from Satoru," you stated plainly, not even looking at him as you placed a piece of steamed broccoli over Satoru's rice. "He's the first… friend I've made here in the city." 

Friend was a strange thing to say, for you weren't entirely sure what you two even were. I mean we did sleep together, but… "And he's obviously unhappy about something in his life if he's running away all the time."

From his left breast pocket, Satoru's phone rang. He checked who was calling before eventually picking it up and excusing himself from the table. 

"What do you do for a living?" The brunette asked all of a sudden. 

"I'm a writer," you replied. "A romance novelist, to be more specific." 

"Well, writer-san, you see that man over there?" He pointed to his charge still happily chattering on his phone. "That man is my job. I pick him up from whatever disaster he gets himself into and make sure it doesn't follow him around."

"Okay?"

"So name your price," he told you. "I know you're no different from them. As soon as they know who he is, everything just clicks and changes."

"You know, what I'd want is for you to stop being an ass," you shot back at him. "I don't care if he's the next Emperor of Japan or what. I want nothing from you, and I definitely don't want anything from Satoru."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at you. "What?"

"So he bought me dinner. He bought groceries, too. But I could have done that without him, too. He did all of that out of goodwill because he was staying with me in the meantime."

"So you're telling me that you want absolutely nothing in return for sheltering him? You've got to be fucking joking with me."

"What I'd like is for you to eat the damn food," you stated before stabbing a piece of the fish with your chopsticks, splitting it in half. "And take your damn assumptions elsewhere." 

Satoru caught you placing the unevenly sliced fish on top of Suguru's still-untouched rice. "Ah, glad to see the two of you getting along."

You could only grin in response to his remark, stuffing your mouth with rice so you didn't have to reply to him. 

"Tengen-san called. She said she found me a place I could move into," he started, taking his seat across from you again. "I said I didn't need it anymore."

You nearly choked at his statement, coughing up a bit of the rice and fish you just ate. "What?!"

"I'm going home, after all."

"Oh, I see…" came your flat response. Alone again, then? I suppose that's fine.

"But I'm personally asking my family if I can move out—"

"No. Absolutely not," Suguru interrupted. "Waka, may I just remind you of your oblig—"

"All right, all right, I won't move out, then. Geez," Satoru replied, reaching for the fish his guardian hardly touched, but only for his hand to be swatted away. "Ow!"

"If it's a little escape you want, then we can arrange that," the brunette stated, finally taking the bowl and chopsticks in his hands. "Your new friend here would be happy to accommodate you, right?" 

Oh. "I-If Satoru needs a place to crash, then he can definitely stay as much as he wants." 

Satoru caught the twinkle in your eye. Adorable.  

"Good. Stay in one place so you're easy to look for, waka," Suguru started. "We'll cover your expenses—"

"I said I didn't need help with that," you interjected. 

"Apologies, but we can't just dump waka's insatiable appetite on an outsider. If you truly consider him a friend, you'll let us handle at least that." 

"Mm, he's right about that, Otome," Satoru smiled at you. "I insist."

"Only if you're staying, then," you said with a small sigh of defeat. 

Before he could leave and close the door behind him, Satoru hurriedly pulled you in for a hug. "I'd probably stay forever if I could, so don't get tired of me yet."

"Do you always do that?" Asked the man in the black suit as he opened the car door for his charge. "Hug your flings goodbye."

"If she's just a fling, then I'm definitely not seeing her again," Satoru chuckled as he sat comfortably in the backseat of the grey sedan Suguru brought with him. "But I…" 

He brought a thoughtful hand to his chin as he concluded, "I think I like her." 

"That'll be the day," the brunette buckled himself up in the driver's seat. 

"So what's the situation? Is it something so urgent that you had to put Nanamin and Haibara-kun to work in tracking me down?"

"The president wants you to look into this," Suguru handed his charge an unlocked tablet with a number of spreadsheets open. "There have been some anomalous numbers in certain cities."

"Natori, Hitachi, Iwaki… they're all coastal cities," Satoru stated as his hand glided through the tablet screen. "And the old farts certainly had something to say about this?"

"They know nothing about it yet. Which is why the president thought it'd be prudent to let you handle it."

"What, like some kind of redemption arc?" The silver-haired man chuckled as he locked the tablet screen. "If this will keep them off my case, then I suppose I can look into it. Let's get Yaga-san and Ijichi onboard." 

"Will do, boss," Suguru chuckled as well, finally driving off. 

"Ah, Shoko! It's me," Satoru spoke into his phone with his easily recognisable cheer. "Do me a favour, would you please?"

For a writer, it's always the lack of inspiration that kills momentum. It's either you're writing endlessly or not writing at all, and the in-between is the most painful part, for there's a world you want to bring to life, but you don't have the right words for it.

So instead of agonising over your lack of inspiration, you decided to spend most of the day unpacking the rest of your things and cleaning the apartment. It was oddly cathartic placing everything in its rightful spot— framed photos of you and your family, a potted plant from one of your co-writers in Sendai, an incense burner from Tatara-san, and your laptop on your desk just overlooking the hidden skyline. Every once in a while, you would scribble a few words into your blank manuscript before starting another task, your frustration serving as fuel to get things done. 

In the midst of your afternoon writing blitz, which was mostly just a lot of sighing and crumpling, and your third coffee, your doorbell rang.

"I'm back!" 

And you could hardly hold yourself up when Satoru happily crashed into your arms. Slung on his shoulder was a duffel bag full of his personal belongings and articles. 

"O-Oh! Welcome home!" You raised your arms to embrace him back. "I, um, made some space for your things in the bedroom, so…" 

"Thank you," he managed a small smile. "And thanks for earlier."

"I'll take that as thanks for lunch and the other thing," you said with a chuckle before eventually releasing him. 

"I suppose I owe you an apology as well for roping you into my business," he replied, fishing out something from the pocket of his pale blue pantsuit. It was a baby pink velvet jewellery box, and inside it was a simple silver string of diamonds he carefully strapped on your dominant wrist. 

"Oh…" Came the faintest reaction from your lips. The bracelet was absolutely gorgeous, the kind worn by beautiful celebrities on Lookbook and Stargram. "Wait, a-are you sure about this? Giving me something so…"

"I had a friend choose this for me. I'm sorry if it doesn't suit your sensibilities."

"N-No! I didn't mean to sound so ungrateful!" You raised your hands in defence. "It's… very pretty." 

Very pretty was the best you could think of, with the writer's block still thrumming in your head. You knew it was a gesture of thanks rather than affection, but it was still unnecessary. 

"I'll be in your care, for now, wifey," Satoru said with a laugh. "Likewise, don't hesitate to ask me for anything." 

"You know I'll never ask for anything," you shook your head at him. "Though I'd appreciate it if you can tell me beforehand that you're coming over. Or not."

"Why don't we exchange contact details, then?" 

"Sure, okay," you nodded this time. "For dinner, I'm thinking of something light, like egg rolls and more steamed vegetables. You okay with that?" 

"I will have whatever it is you want to cook," he told you with such a tender smile before leaning down to brush a kiss on your temple. "So knock yourself out."

You enjoyed Satoru's company more than you let on. You'd expect rich men like him to have short attention spans, but he was surprisingly attentive. He tried to help with the housework, too, to the best of his abilities, but all he could do was shadow you as you prepared your dinner, handing you whatever it was you needed. 

Speaking out your mind to him and expecting him to do so in kind was all natural between you two. It might have been the sadness, but you appreciated his presence nonetheless. 

You sat across each other once more today, Satoru in more comfortable clothes again after playing the businessman today. 

"How was work today?" You asked as you helped yourself to a serving of steamed vegetables, placing a piece of broccoli on the man's rice before he could forget.

"It was all right. Suguru and I will be looking into some discrepancies reported to the president before the rest of the board can sink their teeth into it. We have to work on a tight deadline, though, and I want to get to the bottom of it as soon as possible before we're accused of manipulating sales."

He was a bit startled by your perplexed expression. "What?"

"Did no one notice you gone for the last few days?"

He shook his head. "Suguru knows the drill when I, quote on quote, go missing all of a sudden."

"So did you rent an apartment with full knowledge that you might be found anyway?"

"I always hope I'm never found again," he said with a small laugh. "But for some reason, I'm glad you stumbled upon me." 

You lowered your eyes to avoid his gaze, obviously embarrassed by his bold declaration. He followed up with a question for you. "And you? How was your day?"

"Oh, same same. Answered some emails, wrote and rewrote some stuff, spoke to my new editor, talked about some deadlines… Things really do go fast here in the city, huh?" 

"Hear you there," he nodded, stuffing his face with the egg rolls he helped prepare earlier. 

"Eat your vegetables, Satoru." 

"Yes, boss," he chuckled, helping himself to some steamed marble potatoes this time. "You only added salt to these, right?"

"Mm, yeah. No added flavours, just all-natural goodness."

"It's actually been a while since I had a home-cooked meal. It's always either dine-in or take-out for me, but…"

He spoke about the posh restaurants he's been to, his circle of friends which is composed mostly of the people tasked with looking after him, and his part-time stint as a baseball coach for a local high school where he has to use an alias to conceal his identity. You adored his candid anecdotes and stupid jokes in between his tales and even found yourself slightly kicking him underneath the table because of your own uncontrollable laughter.

"Satoru, I have a confession to make," you started, sitting up ever so slightly. "There's a void you're currently filling."

"Oh?" Came Satoru's curious reply, no hint of hurt, but only intrigue. It didn't take long for him to start wiggling his eyebrows at you. "I'm happy to fill whatever void that is, and any other holes that need filling, too." 

You buried your burning face in your hands at his statement. "S-Satoru! Oh my gosh!" 

He eased you out of the kitchen when you attempted to wash the dishes, insisting he can do things by himself, too. By the time you were done with your shower that evening, he was bringing out the blankets he brought with him from his house earlier. 

"What are you doing?" You asked as you ran a towel through your hair. 

"I'm bunking here in the living room."

"But you can sleep with me in the bedroom, though."

"Really? I thought last night was a… One-time thing." 

"I think I need another warm body in bed, but only if you're up for it," you told him, leaving your door ajar. It didn't even take him a minute to change his mind. You raised the covers to let him in and he contentedly sank right next to you, long arms coiling around you and drawing you close. Warm. "There's still some more I want to confess to you." 

"Hmm?" He murmured, his voice thrumming in his throat. Warm.  

"I meant every word I said earlier… when I called you my friend. I'm glad you consider me such…" 

"Can I make a confession, too?" 

You nodded. 

"Thank you for treating me with so much… decency, I suppose. Suguru must have spoken of the women, right? I dislike the playboy image I've been painted with over the years. I don't always have sex with them and I don't have sex with all of them. Some are rather happy to get a pricey thing or two from me, then they'll just leave me alone like I'm some kind of means to an end."

"Oh…"

You felt him hold you closer, as though you'd vanish into thin air all of a sudden. 

"Disgusting, I know."

"I don't think you're disgusting, Satoru," you raised your hands to cup his face. Warm. "Some women will really put themselves out there if they want to, and I don't judge them for that, either. I'm a woman, too. Just so happens that I don't really like depending on men when I want something." 

Satoru fell quiet, but he didn't feel the need to fill the silence with anything at all. He felt completely at ease. Safe. Here was someone who saw him as he was, who wanted him with no pretences, who wanted nothing from him.

"I will never ask you for anything," you whispered, just enough for him to hear. He finally smiled again. "I just want you around. Always, if possible." 

"And have me, you will."

You contemplated leaving the conversation there. Another incredibly long day has passed and you were once more in the arms of a man who adored you. Let's forget about the fact that I've only known him for a few days… But something bothered you, and it bothered you so much that you couldn't just sleep things off.  

"What about sex with me? Was it… pleasant for you?" 

Silver lashes fluttered open again, his lips curling to a small smile. "Absolutely pleasant."

"Would you like to… do it again?"

"Only if you want to, sweet thing," he cupped your cheek this time, pressing his lips to your brow.

"I'm probably just like everyone else who wants something from you, but you've filled the gaps in my life so… so easily. But you're so warm and shaped so differently and I…" Your voice cracked once more at the weight of your guilt. After all, what you wanted from Satoru at that moment was worth more than—

"Like what I said earlier, I'd be happy to fill that void for you until you're bent and shaped to my size," Satoru slowly sat up, prompting you to follow suit. He held you by the wrist and led your movements without breaking eye contact with you. 

I guess nothing can stop me from falling further and further into this, you thought as he hoisted you onto his lap, his strong hands sinking into your skin almost needily. His affection for you was certainly intoxicating.

"Let me love you, all right?" He murmured against your cheek, the warmth of his breath ghosting over your lips. Warm. Maddening. "Until I'm the one you're looking for. Until you're completely mine." 

You could get behind that train of thought, but he made it hard to think with his lips on yours, coaxing them open to let him in. Oh, his hands were hot. Or was it you? Satoru's hands snaked under your shirt, gently pawing at the flesh he gained access to.

"Hng… Ah… Y-Yes, p-please—" You whimpered against him, jolting upward as you felt his fingers dip into the fiery moistness between your legs. "Ooh…"

Your voice cracked in utter shamelessness this time, but it sounded ever honey-sweet to him. 

"Satoru…"

He licked his lips, curling to another wicked grin. "Yes, say my name. Say it like it's the only thing you know."

— It was love.

Sukuna had no idea why his little brother was so mad at him. It only dawned on him when he came home to your empty apartment after spending most of his week in Hitachi.

Yuuji became the light of his world ever since their parents died when they were younger— too young for his little brother to even recall them, but they honoured their memory by sticking together through thick and thin. After being passed on from relative to relative, the pair of brothers was eventually raised by their paternal grandfather with all the love and care an ailing old man would give to his grandsons. They didn't have much, but they had each other.

And for Sukuna, that was enough.  

Though he barely had the time to be a kid since he had to be an older brother to Yuuji foremost, he held no grudges and made the younger boy swear to him— tell me anything, everything that's bothering you. Big brother will always have time for you.  

Yuuji grew up into a good and honest kid and was insanely proud of his big brother's resourcefulness. With nothing to live on but their grandfather's pension, the older brother had to step up and make sure they'll never go hungry. 

Sukuna relied on his own resourcefulness to get himself through high school without starving. It was a slow boil of eating half a breakfast and trying to survive the rest of the day with snacks handed to him by his friends. He took odd jobs like doing deliveries and waiting tables— heck, he even modelled for a magazine once when the rough and rugged rockstar look was all the rage— all so he could put food on the table for his little brother. 

He managed all of that in high school and even ended up the star athlete of the track and field club. He enjoyed the prestige that came with his smarts and skills and his popularity grew to the point where he was never lacking in friends.

No wonder Yuuji was insanely proud. 

When Sukuna was 17, five-year-old Yuuji was nearly killed in an accident involving a certain trucking and transport company. While the truck managed to swerve and avoid running him over, the whiplash and stray debris injured him to the point where he needed a lifesaving operation. 

And Sukuna would sell his soul to the devil if it meant saving his little brother's life. 

When the trucking business owner Jogo heard of the big brother's desperation, he agreed to pay for Yuuji's medical expenses in full in exchange for Sukuna's full cooperation. 

"You'll be working for me now, street rat," said the old man, who dressed like your regular driver but smelled of expensive cigars. "I'll let you finish high school, but forget about college. Learning from me will cost ya, kid, so you better put yer back into this." 

Sickening, Sukuna thought. But there was no way out of it now.  

After striking that deal with the shady businessman, he found one of his classmates speaking to his grandfather outside their home. 

"…sei and everyone else are worried about Itadori-kun, so… Oh, hello."  

"…?"

"I'm, ah…" The girl, still in her uniform, gave the boy a short bow before handing him a paper bag full of handouts from class. You gave him your name in hopes he might remember. "I'm your seatmate, Itadori-kun. We heard about your little brother from our sensei. We're all hoping he recovers soon."

"Thank you…"  

"Anyway, I just stopped by to drop the handouts sensei collated for you. I hope your little brother gets well soon. A lot of people are waiting for you to return to school. Goodbye!"

By the time you were out of view, the old man whacked his grandson by the arm with his day-old newspaper. "Why didn't you ask her to come in?"

"Ow! Ji-san!"

"I'm sure Jin never would've wanted you to grow up so soon, but you're practically an adult now. You even negotiated Yuuji's medical bills on your own," Wasuke stated. "But you have to live for yourself, too, child."

Live for yourself, huh? Easier said than done. "I'm living the best I can, ji-san."

"Relationships are the most important thing in the world, Sukuna. Yuuji will love you and be eternally grateful for what you've done for him, that's already a given," the old man sighed. "All the money in the world can win you prestige and popularity, but you'll see who's real and who's not in your life when you have nothing to give. People will vanish, but there are those who want you around for who you are, not for what you can give. That is priceless."  

Now that he's mentioned it, none of his friends got in touch or checked up on him after they heard about the accident earlier in the week. 

"You can stay at home and rest for now. I'll look after Yuuji," Wasuke walked past the boy, a handbag with a few clothes in hand. Sukuna held his grandfather by the arm. 

"I can't ask you to do that, ji-san."  

"I don't recall answering to you, Sukuna. Go get some rest and get ready for school tomorrow."

Rest eluded him, though. Sukuna could hardly think of anything else but his little brother— nii-chan, I'll be okay, I promise! 

He dropped the paper bag carelessly, accidentally spilling its contents on his floor. Among the worksheets was the plastic packaging of something…

It was a tortoise melonpan.

There was a lilac note stuck to it, too.

I know you're taking care of your family, Itadori-kun, but don't forget to take care of yourself too. Do your best! ⭐️  

Ah, his head hurt just thinking about things, but when he realised he was running on adrenaline the whole day, he tore through the packaging and stuffed the whole thing in his mouth without a care.

That was his first meal of the day. 

Fuck, he thought, chewing through the bread in tears. I'm so tired of being dirt-poor.

Sukuna showed up to school a few days later, feet still hot off his new "job" with the old man Jogo. He had a driving licence now even though he was still months from turning 18. Jogo must have pulled some strings to obtain that counterfeit. 

He was tired.  

He fell asleep in classes and slept through the lunch break, his stomach as empty as his head at the moment. When his friends came over to see him, they weren't at all sympathetic to his situation and even called him a wet blanket for all the gloom he brought to school. 

Another tortoise melonpan was on his desk when he woke up a few minutes before the end of lunchtime, another lilac note attached to it. You weren't in your seat, but he found the same sticky notepad on your desk. 

Have something to eat. Do your best! ⭐️ 

Good gods, I am trying, he thought to himself as he groaned inwardly and literally. How many more hours 'til this day ends?

"Itadori-kun, sensei is calling you," you nudged your seatmate awake and extended your English studies book to him. "I can share my textbook with you if you left yours at home…"

"Otome-san, I like you. Go out with me."

"Wh-What?" You squeaked, a mix of confusion and embarrassment painting your face. Why was he confessing to you?!

"Pretty sure you heard that," he grinned, or at least he managed to. "I don't have much, but I'll be good to you. I swear I'll be…"

He swerved and fell off his seat unconscious, startling you and the rest of the class. His hunger has reached breaking point and this was it.

"I-Itadori-kun?! Sukuna!"

"Sukuna…" 

It was faint as a whisper, but Satoru heard it escape your lips unsanctioned. Even as you slept soundly beside him, the subconscious you wept for a time that has passed, for a person— only god knows— who was once part of your waking world and everything in between. 

Satoru brushed a cold knuckle to wipe away the burning hot tear that ran down your cheek. "Must be a pretty deep void, huh?" 

— Daylight.  

The morning sun was warm on your back, the rays like wings you had no idea how to fold. You curled inward, gathering your blankets into your arms in hopes they might embrace you back. 

And then you felt it— as quick as a butterfly beating its wings yet as soft as a little breeze— the warmest yet faintest kiss on your knotted forehead. 

"Good morning. Go ahead and sleep in," Satoru's familiar voice murmured directly in your ear. He gently pulled the remaining covers from his side of the bed and placed them over your bent figure. When you came to, he was already half-dressed for the day, in another one of his impeccably pressed suits. 

"Where're you goin'?…" 

"Duty calls," he replied with a chuckle. "Suguru said we're making a trip to the coast since there's been a breakthrough in our investigation." 

"The coast, huh?" 

"We'll probably be out late, but don't worry," he sat down on the edge of your bed, slender fingers reaching over to cup your face. "I'll be home, I promise."

You sank into his touch and sighed as though you were defeated. Satoru brushed another kiss on your temple, with no hint of hesitation as he continued his show of affection. You grasped his wrist as he slowly pulled away. 

"Can I come with you?" 

There was an odd twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he caught your question. "You… want to come with me?"

"Only if I can," you managed to smile at him. "Though I doubt Geto-san would let me. Where exactly on the coast are you heading?" 

"Natori."

"Oh, it's so close to my hometown," you replied, slowly sitting up from your position. 

"Yeah, that's where the whistleblower's based," said Satoru. "I can make arrangements if you want to come with me, but I'm assuming you actually wanna catch a train to Sendai." 

"If at all possible," you reiterated. "Hmm… I don't think I'm homesick at all, but why do I have this feeling that the coast is calling me?" 

"Better answer it, then," he smiled at you. "And don't worry about Suguru. Just call in all the favours you want."

"I don't want Geto-san to dislike me more than he already does…"

Satoru would grant your every wish if he could since he was hardwired to do so, but taking advantage of that surprisingly pure heart of his would make you no different from the women who asked him for pretty and expensive things. 

"Trust me when I say he's already warmed up to the idea of you, Otome." 

But the scowl on the tall brunette's face when he saw you all dressed up next to Satoru was hardly an image of warming up to you. 

"This ain't a field trip. What are you even planning to do in Sendai?" 

"I-I know, I know. I promise you I'll stay out of the way of your business," you raised your hands in defence. "Sendai is my hometown. I think I'll pay a visit to my family and publisher while I'm there. You won't hear a peep from me."

Suguru narrowed his dark gaze at you before eventually letting out a sigh of defeat. "Ugh. Fine. It's not like Satoru here will agree to leave you now that you're here and all."

"Th-Thank you, Geto-san! I promise I'll steer clear of your business," you happily bowed before the man in the dark suit, only for him to smirk at you. 

"Whatever, kid. Now come on, we're losing daylight. The drive's hours long and Nanami has been waiting for us since yesterday."

"Oh, you're driving? But we can take the Shinkansen if you're pressed for time. We'd get there in two hours tops," you raised a peace sign at Suguru, only for him to glare at you even more. "Whoops! There goes steering clear from your business!" 

"No, on second thought, our supposed grand arrival might scare away the whistleblower," the brunette stated, a thoughtful hand on his chin. "Nanami brought his car anyway, so the train's actually a good option."

"From here, we can ride the subway in Omotesando to get to Tokyo Station. Once we're moving, you'll both get off at the Joban Line to get to Natori, then I'll—" you started, only to be cut off by Suguru's ringing mobile phone. 

"It's Nanami," he said, checking the caller ID. "Hello, Nanami?… Yeah, we're on our way. We might take the train since— He what?!"

The sudden angry rise in his voice made you jump. 

"All right, I got it. Just… Hold onto that guy, no matter what. We'll handle things when we get there."

"What's the matter?" Satoru asked. The brunette turned in his direction as he slipped his phone back into his pant pocket. 

"The whistleblower nearly made a run for it. Apparently, he wants to bring us to one of his conspirators, the one earning the most from their racketeering, their boss's pet or something," Suguru stated, the edge in his voice gone, with only traces of exhaustion left. "Change of plans, kid. We're going to Sendai with you. That's where their base of operations is."

"I see. You know, Geto-san, if there's anything I can do to assist you, I—"

"We're gonna have to part ways the moment we get there," the brunette stated, cutting you off again. "We're dealing with a possible crime syndicate here. We can't guarantee your safety if you stay with us."

You pursed your lips and solemnly nodded at the truth he spoke. "Yes, of course. We'll part ways in Aoba, then. If I finish my business early, I suppose I'll see you both back here in Tokyo."

"A sound idea," said Satoru as he took your hand. "Well, Suguru? We're losing daylight, aren't we? Let's get walking."

It took every ounce of Suguru's patience not to react to everything Satoru did as you all made your way to Sendai, such as ordering every kind of ekiben the train had, having two beers halfway through the trip and constantly getting up to go to the toilet. 

"Driving would have taken longer, but at least that man's just strapped in on his seat," the brunette sighed once more as his charge headed to the toilet for the third time. 

"Is he always like that?" You asked the man seated across you. "Babyish."

"With me… and everyone else tasked to look after him? Always," Suguru replied, taking a sip of his canned black coffee. "But you'd mistake him for another man when he's with his flings." 

"Yeah, Satoru's mentioned that."

"Come to think of it, you're the only one I've seen twice," he went on. "Satoru's usually in a hurry to leave his flings like he's gonna get caught at a crime scene. How he is now kind of scares me." 

"Why does it scare you?"

"Because Satoru doesn't care about a thing in the world. He doesn't care about the company or his inheritance. His family can never disown him because he's their only son, so he capitalises on that and does whatever he wants. And the women he gets involved with… They don't really care as much, either. They all know they can never fit in his world, so they'll settle for a night or a pretty trinket. Him suddenly caring for someone is new to me."

"I'm pretty sure Satoru cares for you, Geto-san," you managed a smile as you held your canned milk coffee. The two of you sat in silence before you eventually spoke up again. "I don't really care if I don't fit in his world, either. All I know is I want him in mine."

"His world won't be ready for someone like you," Suguru chuckled. "You are something else entirely."

"Hey, what did I miss?" Satoru suddenly popped up from behind you, prompting Suguru to narrow his gaze at his charge once more. 

"Sit your ass back down here, you no-good prince!" 

The thought of coming home only after moving out a few days ago was funny. When you messaged your mother that you would be coming home to see her and everyone else at home, you'd expect an angry reply from her or possibly a joke about being homesick.

But when she replied telling you not to go to the old apartment you shared with your ex-boyfriend because some strange men had it staked out, you figured that something was up.  

It was your editor Tatara-san who came to the station to welcome you back to your hometown. The publishing house was happy to see you doing well even though it had only been a few days since you last came to say your farewells. 

"If you don't mind me asking, Otome-san, who were those two men you were with earlier? They don't look like tourists," your editor asked as they served you some tea. 

"Friends I made in the city. They have some business to attend to here."

"I see. You don't suppose they're involved in that scandal with the local Six Eyes office, do you?" 

Your curiosity was piqued now because the pair was certainly there to address something. What it was, you really didn't know. You couldn't ignore that awful, gnawing feeling you felt in your chest now. "What scandal?" 

The tall blonde in a sleek beige suit handed his young master a tablet containing even more spreadsheets and numbers ranging from millions. Satoru did away with his long coat now, blue eyes running over the screen as he scrolled through pages, graphs and charts of data. 

"So… These thugs take our products, force the regional head to alter the price market, then have those shipped overseas for even crazier prices, huh?" 

"That about sums it up, waka," Nanami stated, tossing the other man's coat in the back of his grey sedan. 

The trio of suits and the finely-dressed whistleblower were in an unmarked location near the Port of Sendai, an inconspicuous lot the whistleblower led them to in a frantic hope that he'll be redeemed for the crimes he partook in. 

"Tell Ijichi I won't be accepting his resignation. He did nothing wrong," Satoru stated. 

"All right," the blonde nodded his ascent. He and Suguru remained unfazed as their young master uncharacteristically grabbed the blue-haired whistleblower by his collar.

"What did you say your name was again?" The silver-haired man started, his grip on the other man's collar slowly evolving into a chokehold. 

"M… Mahito…" Came the whistleblower's strained reply. 

"And how long has this been going on, Mahito? How long have you been threatening my man to do your bidding?" 

"Ghh… I-If you want to k-know who's running the show, I can lead you to him!" 

Mahito paled by the moment, and he gripped Satoru's rigid arm in a bid to free himself from the other man's hold, only for him to be unceremoniously dropped to the ground. 

Suguru lit another cigarette as he continued observing their surroundings. 

"You know, Mahito, there's a reason why we aren't getting the police involved here, though we're technically dealing with a theft now. Your little outfit here has stolen goods worth around 500 million Yen from our company for the last two years. Now that we've caught wind of it, you came to us looking for a way to save yourself, right? As though everything's as simple as washing your hands from the crime. You can look for your salvation all you want, but one thing is for certain," Satoru stated with a wicked grin. "I am your god now, and right now, you're going to do exactly as I say."

— Leave as though fire burns under your feet.

The panic that set off in your heart gave no space for common sense to prevail. You ran to your old apartment as fast as your feet could take you, only for you to crash into an equally distressed Yuuji, the boy in tears as he scrambled back on his feet. 

"Otome-nee! It's nii-chan! He's—!"

"Yuuji-kun, c-calm down!" You held the boy by his shaking shoulders, anchoring him to you. "Can you tell me from the start what happened?"

Yuuji nodded, though not at all calmed down by the presence of an adult he knew could help him."…Someone from my class called my brother a thief. They said nii-chan's been involved with some shady business for a long time now…"

What?

"Our house, my tuition, the money we buy food with… they said it's all stolen money! Of course, I didn't believe them because I know how hard nii-chan has been working! He even told me he planned on proposing to you soon!"

"Where is Sukuna now?" 

"I… I don't know! He hasn't been answering my calls! I was so angry with him for not doing anything about you leaving town, but now there's all this… stuff about him being a thief! I…" 

"Don't cry, Yuuji-kun. Let's… Let's go to our place together, all right? Only your brother can answer those questions for you, but I…"

No. All the pieces fit so strangely. I don't want to believe it, but…

When you and Yuuji arrived at your old apartment, you weren't completely surprised to find Satoru and Suguru already there, along with a number of men in suits you didn't anticipate at all. Their presence now confirms your suspicions, though you didn't want to believe it at first. 

"Otome?! What are you doing here? Suguru said you—" Satoru tried to block your path to the apartment, only for you to hold his arm down. The lack of verve didn't go unnoticed by him.

"I know the man who lives there. The man you're looking for," you looked up at him with shining eyes once more. "He's… He's my…"

The words you wanted to say remained unspoken, but Satoru understood enough. "Otome, that man is party to a crime— a theft worth millions. We'd appreciate it if you can coax him out here. We really don't want the cops to get involved."

You nodded at him, taking a deep breath before eventually banging on the locked door. "Sukuna, it's me! Yuuji-kun is here, too! If… If you're going to feel sorry for yourself, you should at least apologise to your brother!"

Suguru disposed of his cigarette with a flick of his finger. "Damn. What a small world we live in, huh? You don't suppose she's an accomplice here as well, do you?"

"I don't think so, Suguru," the silver-haired man shook his head. "Otome left Sendai after some chick told her to get lost because she was that asshole's main woman now. Turns out that woman was just bluffing. When she was refused the second time around, that's when word got out about his job. He never even found out about Otome leaving until now."

Their heads whipped up when they heard the doorknob click open, only for you to be hastily pulled into the unit with the door quickly bolted shut behind you. From inside your shared apartment, you could hear Satoru's aggravated shouts as he banged on the door even louder than you did moments ago. "Otome!" 

"Sato—" You tried to run back, only for you to be held back. You swiped your hands away from Sukuna's hold, not at all surprised by his lack of strength. "I didn't want it to be true at all, but when I heard from Tatara-san that you were… I… Didn't you even think of Yuuji-kun?"

The sheer exhaustion he felt manifested itself on his face as you looked up at him. "Sukuna…"

"The job was a downward spiral. I knew that from the start," he stated. "When I first started out, that old man Jogo called me a street rat who had to work for everything he spent on when Yuuji got into that accident. And in everything I did, I made sure I did right. He said I had potential. He put me in charge of everything here, and that became my ball and chain."

You didn't pull away when he reached for your hand again. 

"I know that telling you now that all I did was for you and Yuuji… doesn't really matter now because everything has gone to shit. And now Yuuji's being ostracised at school because word got out that I'm a racketeer… I can't even face him! I just wanted to…" 

You were unexpectedly pulled with him as he broke down in tears on the floor. 

"I just wanted to give you the world…"

"Sukuna… I never expected you to give me the world. All I wanted was for you to be in mine… But ever since that… job of yours, you…" And your tears, hot and unbidden, came falling down as well. "You were rarely there. For me. For Yuuji-kun. When Wasuke-san passed away, you had to leave as soon as the ceremony for him was over. And where were you when Yuuji-kun was about to enter high school? It was just us two back then and you promised to show up for him, but you…"

The rest of your muddled thoughts were drowned out by the sound of his sobs. 

"Sukuna, I didn't need someone to give me everything, I just wanted someone to come home to. Someone who will come home to me."

File: RikuganKigyo_Sendai_Market_Case_File.docx The issue surrounding the anomalous market numbers in the coastal cities of Natori, Hitachi and Iwaki has been resolved by the following members: Gojo Satoru, partner and family shareholder  Geto Suguru and company Nanami Kento Haibara Yu The enterprise did not want any police involvement with the issue surrounding the three coastal cities since it meant having to open the case to the media as well. The stockholders suspected of assisting in this market manipulation turned out to be innocent as well. The discrepancies were all the work of a smart underground syndicate. 

"Writing a report, I see," you placed a cup of freshly brewed green tea on the dining room table where Satoru had set up his makeshift office. He raised his arms, stretched his legs and let out an unsightly yawn before eventually coiling his arms around your waist and nuzzling your chest. You threaded your fingers through his hair as he took a short break from his document. "You know, I'm surprised Geto-san allowed you back here with me." 

"Yeah, he didn't like the string of coincidences and had your background checked without your consent. But you cooperated with our internal investigation and even turned over all the gifts your ex-boyfriend gave you for consolidation." 

"If only I knew sooner, though…" You sighed.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. You've done plenty. Just the fact that you managed to take the fight out of the man was a feat in itself," Satoru stated as he eventually let you go. "I'm glad we managed to keep the damage to a minimum. The shareholders don't know about all of this, but we're gonna have to come clean with it eventually."

"But I thought you didn't want the media all over this issue," you replied, taking a seat across from him. 

"That's why we're presenting the thing as a whole, no loopholes for them to poke their fingers into, all the crannies plugged. Basically, we're going to tell them all about the problem and how we resolved it without their intervention. It's probably a bad move, too, but if word of this ever got out to the media, the people would lose faith in the company. They'd say the Six Eyes allowed a local small-time outfit to heist away millions." 

You held your own cup of tea in your hands. "I see. You've really thought this out well, huh?"

"Suguru helped out a lot, too," he stated. You could hear him press the backspace key of his keyboard numerous times. "Apparently my old man's been wanting to retire for quite some time now. He figured that issue in the coastal cities would be a great springboard for me and my reputation. Now that it's been settled, he has no choice but to officially name me his heir." 

"So you'll be president soon, then?"

"Pretty much," he nodded. "I told him to call off that stupid arranged marriage, though."

"Wh-What? W-Were you actually engaged to someone?!"

"I wouldn't call it an engagement," he thoughtfully looked up. "They just wanted my gallivanting to stop. Not that an engagement would have helped at all…"

"I see…"

"To be honest, now that my father has officially named me his heir and my parents and I are all right, part of me kind of regrets being such a brat to them. When people say Six Eyes, they consider it one of Japan's most timeless companies, and for it to withstand all of the tests of time was a treasure all in itself. That company will be mine to lead in the near future. Along with it are the hundreds of thousands of people working to ensure everything runs smoothly." 

You smiled at him from across the table. "I'm glad to know you realised that much."

"Yeah, I'm pretty surprised myself," he chuckled. "Sukuna, wasn't it? This is just a personal opinion of mine, but I think he's actually a good man who just got caught in a bad circle. It was pretty honourable of him to take all the blame. Not even once did he speak about the ringleader Jogo."

You gasped. "Ah! That's—!"

"The man he owes his brother's life to." 

During the internal investigation, Sukuna answered every question thrown at him by the investigators, all except for one. 

"Believe it or not, that man was my only salvation back then. I don't care about the money anymore. Lock me up if you must, but please… I just want my brother to live a quiet life." 

And when you pleaded his case in an attempt to earn him some lenience, the best Satoru could offer him was a chance to start anew in a foreign country— they'll have to start from scratch, though, in a new place with new identities. Sukuna had nothing but apologies for you when you last came face to face. 

"And for what it's worth now, all the days I spent with you were the happiest I've ever been. I'm sorry things had to be this way."

"Sukuna… Thank you. I'll… treasure those days in my heart as well. But, please… Don't ever disappoint Yuuji-kun again."

The consequences were not at all heavy like you originally thought them to be. The young president-to-be was lenient, but that would be the first and last time he'd ever grant clemency to anyone who dared hurt the company. The pair of brothers were nothing but thankful for the decision. Being shipped off to China didn't sound like a bad idea to them as long as they were together.  

"I don't have a brother, so I can't claim to know how he feels, but I do know this," Satoru reached for your hand from across the table. "I will never, ever lose myself trying to give you the world, Otome. I know well enough that you don't want it." 

"You're right. I don't," you squeezed him back. "All I'll ever want is you and your boundless energy and all of your love for me."

— We've had the loneliest time.  

In the days that followed, Satoru spent most of his time ironing out what would be his first business presentation as the president's named heir of the enterprises. Thus, his presence was required in every major board meeting that lined his daily schedule. The responsibilities rattled him, but not enough to scare him back to his old ways of running off whenever things got too overwhelming for him. He fronted every meeting with a game face and a gaze that would unsettle even the most seasoned businessman in the conference room. 

However, there was no concealing his delight whenever he came home to you and your open arms. 

When Suguru invited you out for coffee one morning to discuss Satoru and his plans for the future, you didn't expect him to spring a surprise on you.

"Good morning, Geto-san," you greeted the figure in black. He stubbed out his cigarette the moment you made your presence known to him.  

"Hello, Otome-san," he handed you a menu. "Help yourself. My treat since I called you out here." 

A waitress came up to take your orders. He ordered an espresso for himself. "And you?"

"Oh, I think I'll have a café au lait," you replied as you thoughtfully scanned the menu. "And a kaya toast, if it's all right." 

"Of course." 

It didn't take long for your coffee and toast to arrive, the sweet aroma of your milk coffee and the kaya jam filling your nose. "So, um, what was it you wanted to discuss?"

You heard from Satoru once that Suguru was given the nickname Bloody Obsidian by his fellow bodyguards and subordinates. He didn't like it much though many said it suited his rather cutthroat nature. And when he spoke, he always made sure it was straight to the point. Today was no exception. "Satoru will be taking up his business studies again. He'll be heading to New York in a week in time for the start of the semester." 

"I see. Good for him, then," you remarked, halfway through a bite into your toast. 

"He's asked me to arrange for you to go with him. We can start with your passport and work on your visa afterwards. Then we'll—" 

"Aghk!" You coughed out your toast in complete surprise. "What?!" 

Suguru pushed your milk coffee in your direction, brows furrowed as he watched you take small sips of the beverage. "Did he not tell you about this at all? Or ask you at all about any of this?"

You dabbed a napkin over your lips as you shook your head at him. "No, not at all…"

The brunette sighed, leaning back on his seat. "Then he must have assumed that you'd willingly go with him."

"I-It's not that I wouldn't! It's just… things are moving at a pace I can't seem to keep up with yet," You raised your hands in defence. "Satoru will need all the room he can get to grow into his role as the future president of the Six Eyes." 

"I thought you wanted him in your life."

"I do. I'm so happy to have him around at home. I know it's probably strange hearing this from me now, but I don't think it would be right for me to be with Satoru. Not now, at least," you nodded before eventually lowering your eyes to your toast. "When he starts his studies again, I'm certain he'll meet people who will like him for the person he truly is. He'll make friends who will adore him for who he is and not because he's some rich kid."

Suguru watched as you helped yourself to your kaya toast, the flavours dancing in your mouth as you carefully thought of what to say next. 

"And I… think I still have a lot of growing up to do as well. Uprooting myself from home was awful enough for my family. They'd probably lose their minds if I go to the States. And there's that thing with Sukuna, too… Our relationship didn't really end on our terms, and if I'm going to be completely honest, I don't think I'm ready for another one just yet," you said with a small sigh and a smile. "I adore Satoru, I really do. I appreciate his sentiment, too, but I think I'd rather not let men dictate the course of my life now."

The brunette nodded at your statement, a small smile on his face as he drank deep into his shot of espresso. 

"What about you, Geto-san? Interested in meeting anyone? I have some writer friends at home who would love to date a guy like you," you beamed at the man in black, only to earn his signature glare once more.

"Oh, please! Do I look like I have the time to be dating when I've got my hands full with that manchild of yours?!" 

Satoru recalled going to sleep with you last night on the very same bed he woke up in, but you were nowhere in sight the morning after. While most of your belongings remained in your apartment, the place was eerily empty. The only person he found outside your bedroom was Suguru, who helped himself to a freshly brewed cup of green tea. 

"Good morning, waka," the brunette stated as he blew over the steam rising from his cup.

"Where'd Otome go?" 

From inside his coat pocket, Suguru pulled out a sealed envelope and handed it to his charge, Satoru quickly yet carefully ripping it open. In it contained a sheet of manuscript paper with your distinct handwriting. 

Satoru,  

I'm not sure when this letter will reach you. I'm not sure if it will, but Geto-san said he'll ensure it does. I suppose only you can say that for certain.  

You know, I was about to earn a quick buck from selling that set of golf clubs in my room. Little did I know I'd end up threatening you with one on our very first meeting. Oh, god, seeing you drink milk straight from the carton annoyed the hell out of me even more than the fact that you were actually trespassing.  

For the record, I'm glad I actually let you buy me fried chicken and beer. You spent that entire night trying to cheer me up and you never talked over me even once when the sadness came rearing its ugly head. You just let me be sad, but not be sad at the same time. 

When you opened up to me about your own sadness, even though you had the world in the palm of your hand, it made me realise how everything isn't always as it seems. That behind all of that glamour in your world, you were still so human, so alone, and so hurt. 

At the end of the day, we were just two human beings trying to exist. 

I enjoyed every moment of 'just existing' with you. Just existing, orbiting around each other like the planets and the moons in the sky. For the short time we've lived under the same roof, you gave me all the love I never even dared to ask for, even though you were only filling the void. 

I hope you know I still want nothing from you but you. That hasn't changed. Sure, the food was better when you were around, but listening to your shitty jokes and laughing with you always made our meals even more inviting. 

We never meet the wrong people in our lives, and I know I met you for a reason. I can spend decades trying to figure out why you ended up in my apartment that fateful morning, but I wouldn't mind if I never come up with an answer. All I know is that you're a part of my life now, and I can only hope I'll remain part of yours. 

For now, I hope you'll allow me this time to outgrow the grief that forced me out of my life in Sendai in the first place. I think it would be awfully unfair to you if I go with you as I am now. 

I don't want to reach for you and think of a future long lost to me. I want to be able to reach for you and think of the road we'll walk on, hand in hand and side by side. I don't want you to fill this void anymore. I want you to exist as your own person in my life. And know this: I will want nothing more than for you to come home to me all the time. 

Until then, go prove them wrong. Prove to everybody who doubted you that you aren't some pushover. 

I adore you so, my president of the world. I apologise for not telling you earlier. 

If you find yourself looking for your home after all of this, you'll know where to find it. The light is always on for you.

PS: I went home to Sendai for the weekend. My mother's been worried sick about me ever since that incident with Sukuna and your men. I left you a copy of your key here. Please don't lose it! Also, here's my e-mail address. You can also get in touch with me here once you land…

Love forever…

True enough, the envelope contained a certain weight just light enough for him to confirm that it was indeed a key to the unit. It fell into his palm, quiet and cold, just like how you left him this morning. Along with it was an adornment of the most recognisable Donald Duck holding half of a cartoon heart. They can only assume that half of the cartoon heart was held by Daisy Duck in your own pocket. 

"Awfully thoughtful of her, isn't it?" Suguru stated with an uncharacteristically warm smile on his face. "I'm certain she'll work just as hard as you, but I think your world will never be ready for someone like her."

"Of course. She's so amazing, after all!" Satoru exclaimed with an equally bright smile. "I guess I'll have to work hard, for her sake, too."

"That's what she would have wanted, waka. Better not disappoint her, then."

— Epilogue.

~ two years later.

Tokyo Haneda Airport remained bustling with activity even as the years flew by. For Satoru, it almost seemed like nothing changed at all. Several flights from different parts of the world have descended on the Land of the Rising Sun, including his own, after finally concluding his long overdue studies in business administration in New York. He hasn't been home in months, being a slave to the grind in hopes of finally passing and successfully defending his thesis. 

Today marks his homecoming, or a break, at least, after having masterfully defended his thesis to his professors at the esteemed SC Johnson College of Business at Cornell University. (It was the only school that would credit his previous classes and allow him to continue his studies after a rather lengthy hiatus from school.) Graduation was just around the corner, as well as his official inheritance of the role of President of the Six Eyes Enterprises. Despite his inheritance having yet to be announced, he has been making some major business decisions on behalf of his parents, making him the de facto leader of the company for the last few months. 

"Oh, Tokyo. You and your relentless cold," he remarked as he stepped out of the passenger terminal, his arrival met by none other than his ever-dutiful all-arounder, Suguru Geto. The brunette gave his young master a quick bow before reaching for what little belongings he brought back home with him and loading them into his sedan's compartment.  

"Welcome home, waka. How was your flight?"

Satoru's homecoming in a navy-coloured suit almost felt like the arrival of a dark horse meant to cause discord in the company. At least now, he meant it in a good way. "Good! But I've only had coffee and cola for the last 15 hours, so I'll probably be annoying."

"Like you aren't already?" Suguru scoffed at him. "Where to?"

"Where else?" The young president chuckled, finally removing his silver-rimmed sunglasses. "Home, of course."

The car ride from the airport to home was short and uneventful, with Satoru browsing through different radio stations in hopes of hearing something good. What he chanced upon was something even better. 

"…back, everyone! We're in the second hour of Seishun Book Club. Talking with us this hour is the rising novelist and scriptwriter from Sendai who…"

"Oh!"

"…jo Otome-sensei!"

"Good morning, friends and listeners! It is such an honour to be live on air with you!"  

The sound of your voice on the radio was music to his ears. "It really is her!" 

"Ah, but the honour is all ours! You are one of Sendai's 'living treasures', after all. And you've brought your craft to the city and have given so many people something delightful to read." 

"I'm so happy a lot of people found my new novel an entertaining read. I had such a wonderful time working on it for the last two years. Of course, I must thank my kind editors Marin-san and Tatara-san from Sendai for keeping track of things. Without them, people probably wouldn't have been able to rea…"

"She sounds so relaxed. This probably isn't her first radio show."

"Yeah, she's been doing more radio shows after her second book got popular. She's been to a few TV appearances, too. Nanami and Haibara have been driving her around town for every interview she's been invited to."

"…nd people both young and old have been captivated by the story you delivered in 'Up The Winding Stairs', particularly the enduring love of the Crown Prince for his long-lost childhood friend, but there are also elements which parents of young children also…" 

"…suppose you could say some elements of the story were inspired by real-life events…"

"She's a living treasure, Suguru," Satoru stated, sitting there in content silence as he listened to the first part of the interview, which was mostly about your book and the working process, most of which was composed of endless nights of writing and typing and random video calls with each other. The second part was composed of producer and listener-sent questions pertaining to your personal life this time. 

"…rious about your marriage to the president of Nikkei 225-listed company Six E…"

"…toru will be graduating soon and I'm very proud of him and his achievements. We haven't seen each other in months since he's been busy preparing for his thesis defence, but he'll be returning home soon. I'm actually a bit nervous, but I'm looking forward to seeing my husband fo…"

The said president could only contentedly smile to himself as he listened to his wife sing his praises.

"Well, don't you look awfully smug," Suguru chuckled. 

"That's my wife talking on the radio, Suguru! How on earth can I not be so smug and so proud?!" 

The two of you got married sometime in the last two years in a simple, uncomplicated beach wedding ceremony that only included your closest family and friends. Satoru's family may have had some qualms about your dubious origins, but they recognised how much of a positive influence you've become in his life. You made it clear to them that you could live without any aid or part of his family's fortune, eventually earning their respect, and later on, their adoration.  

But every once in a while, you'd allow your husband to spoil you with a pretty thing or two. It was his pleasure, after all. 

Perhaps his greatest pleasure and treasure was coming home to someone who wanted nothing at all from him but him. 

"Satoru! Welcome home!" 

…And the smile that lit your face whenever he walked into the door of your shared home. 

"How was your flight?"

"Pleasant, but awfully long," Satoru replied, carefully dropping his luggage to tenderly pull you into his arms. "I heard your interview on the radio on my way here! You were fantastic!" 

The world may have been messy and imperfect for you not too long ago, but that may have been because you had too many pieces in your hands. But now… Everything that you needed now was always only an arm's length away from you.

And with your husband now in your arms after months of being away, you were well and truly content, and everything in your world was absolutely perfect.

Author's notes:

Hello, friends! 💛 I decided to publish one of my most favourite Gojo fics here.

This fic's namesake is one of my fave songs by Carly Rae Jepsen and it speaks of an unfinished love! (And here it pertains to Sukuna and Gojo but mostly yn's love for herself too.) If I went with my original plan for the fic, it would have definitely ended with yn going with Gojo to the US and thus forgetting her book!! So I said, well fuck it better stay at home for now. This must have been incredibly fast-paced too, but I'd like to think that stuff like this happens in real life! The premise of this one-shot is from a dream I had after a night of drinking with my sister sometime last year. 

This fic follows a true-to-life timeline, with yn, Gojo and Sukuna aged around 27 to 28. Also, forgive me for my awful attempt at writing a business fic— I only realised now that I can't do serious fics like this ever again because I have no idea how offices and companies work lol.

Something about the way the manga's going has disillusioned me, and I know a lot of us would prefer ignoring canon altogether. Others will argue that Gojo's death was necessary and all of that… Okay, cool, point made, but please let us ignore canon in peace, please! Gojo wasn't even dead yet when I wrote this but this serves as a perfect escape for me… I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much! 💛

💛 Here's the AO3 link, too. This was originally published on 10 January 2023.

[yourlocaltreesimp]

*insert And Another One meme*

Can I. Request a yandere chain with a reader who gifts them flowers just because they can? Or like, them just subtly courting the chain for a change? (minus wind, who they just flat out spoils because he's babey even though he's a gremlin)

And when I say court, I mean like in ways that they're probably not familiar with? Like, the reader makes up a bs excuse about needing their help to see if they can still sing because then rusty, and then singing love songs to them but it's in a language they can't recognize?

Or like, doing tasks for them? Basically acts of service, since that's an old way of courting from my country that can be easily mistaken for them being helpful, but they're just generally more careful and going above and beyond what's asked for them?

- altumsomnum (forgot to add it in the other asks lmao)

Ofc, ofc I think I miss understood the prompt, but take this in case!

TW:ok well there’s some obsession and yandere as expected, blood mentione

Oh how the mighty fall

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You’d recently found yourself in quite the predicament. Not necessarily a bad one… Just, odd. Long letters of prose and poetry sealed with royal blue wax from Warriors carefully dancing around his plans to stab the others and run off with you. Quiet afternoons curled up as Sky plays you music keeping you safe and distracted as the others slit the throat of the merchant that insulted you. Ranting to Four about whatever interest snagged your mind, he’d listen for hours at your every beck and call, no matter if the sentiment wasn’t returned. Strolling around villages with Time, knowing you’re safest at his side though you didn’t know how deep their feelings went, they’d do anything at your order. Twilight teaching you how to ride a horse, sharing what knowledge he knew you’d benefit from but also so you wouldn’t be near the fight. Fresh hot meals and deserts from Wild, with some added ingredients to let you sleep so they deal with business. Reading with Hyrule in a calm clearing, uninterrupted by the others but he knows the more time you spend together, the easier it’ll be when he steals you away. Sparring with Legend, finally free to move and fight as the others do as he gauges your strength to see how hard you can fight back.

You supposed the real question was why? You didn’t do anything odd or particularly of note. In comparison to the other options they had (there were none, as if anyone could pretend they held light to your sheer divinity) you felt dim by comparison. Sure, you wanted their affection (you already had them, so much blood has been spilled in your name, their reason for living is found within your company) but between yourself and the incarnation of a goddess fool to think she’s worthy of comparison you didn’t know what prompted their behaviour. It was only until you caught a passing conversation from a village girl to her friend that you realised your fatal mistake. This wasn’t Earth. Looking back on your behaviours you felt embarrassed. You’d spent hours reading and writing poetry with Warriors when you found his passion in it. You didn’t question the blush on his cheeks when you read his poetry on love- you knew he loved the romance novels. You asked Sky to play his harp when you were doing chores and even got in the habit of singing softly when you found yourself willing. You turned a blind eye to the look of sheer endearment and adoration when you looked up from whatever you busied yourself with. You’d listened to Four go on and on about the Minish after he found their numbers dwindled in the future. He’d cried, you held him, he went on and on about each and every tiny detail of his journey, pouring his heart out in a way that he was only ever used to doing when split. You welcomed him with open arms the next time he asked if you could talk. You ran whatever errands with Time that he asked, knowing his aversion to such large crowds with no company. You thought the silent agreement to stick with one another in busy cities was forged in the mistrust of the environment you found yourself surrounded with, not out of any further attraction. You entertained the idea of learning to ride a horse to get closer with the group, bridge the gap the lay between you. You didn’t catch Twilight as he noted how quickly you caught on, how easily you’d adapt to Ordon, especially with your compassion. You helped Wild with the cooking mainly because you wanted to be useful, but from what you’ve seen, he always managed to make simple tasks entertaining. He, meanwhile, was falling over himself at the fact that someone is willing to help him, let alone out of the goodness of their heart, let alone you who he’d lay down lives for. Reading with Rulie so you could learn a little more about their lives and culture as he saw you preparing to live out the rest of your days in the Hyrules. Asking Leg for help fighting because you knew he’d be the only one who wouldn’t hold back, while he enjoyed being closer with you, having the excuse to finally be near you without any glares. Looking back, you see why they acted as they did.

BONUS:

In long and short, the chain did a lot for you, for your affections. And it really began to bother you that they never accepted anything in return. They never took thanks, for it is what was ‘expected’ of courting, and yet you felt as if there was more to be done. And so, you decided on a plan. You’d simply have to be stubborn. It was rewarding to see blushes tinting their cheeks as they read the letters you’d written for them in turn. Watching their eyes light up as you goth them all jewellery, tokens that they treasured more than anything Hylia had given them. Finding excuses to take them all on dates and seeing their hearts squeeze.

[wehangout]

So, the amazing Calli @callivich came up with this beautiful idea for DVD commentary, fic style, and the amazing questions that go with it. As suggested, I'll be indulging myself while talking about:

Thicker Than Forget. Summary: He blinks at you. “What was your first name?” “Erato.” “Erato,” he repeats. “No need to roll the r.” “Like the muse?” You grin. “Poet, meet muse."

AU. Ian is a poet. Mickey is his recently-corporal muse. They eat an absurd amount of stupidly named ice cream, try to find beauty in things, and fall hopelessly in love.

This was fun! Let me know if you want commentary on any other fics!

Give us some stats - (when you wrote it, word count, how long it took to finish, is it a one-shot/multi-chapter, etc)

So, I wrote this for the Shameless Big Bang in 2021. I couldn’t tell you how long it took me to write (Word is giving me conflicting info), but it was probably my easiest write to date. Word count sits at 30-ish thousand words.

What was the initial inspiration for your story?

It was initially inspired by a novel. I don’t remember which one, but it was either Lament or Ballad by Maggie Stiefvater. The only similarity between that one and mine is that a character falls in love with their muse. The plot itself is very different.

If the story is written from a character’s POV, why did you choose this character?

Mickey. Because it’s almost always Mickey lmao. I did try from Ian’s, but this had to be from the muse’s POV and Mickey had to be the muse.

What was your favourite scene to write?

The smut 👀 if you’ve read it, I hope you understand why lmao

How did you come up with the title?

From the poem, Love is Thicker Than Forget! It fits so well with Ian being a poet and the overall theme of the story.

Are there any little moments or references you hope readers will notice?

I went a little meta on fanfic, fandom, and shipping in this, which was so fun. I think only one person seemed to really notice and mention it, though, haha.

Was there anything you struggled to write? If so, how did you overcome this?

I didn’t struggle to write it, but figuring out how to end it was tough. It took a long time for me to figure that out. When I originally came up with the idea it was for an original story, and did not have a happy ending.

Favourite line in the story?

I’m gonna go with lines, plural, because I have a couple

He kisses you and he kisses you and oh. Oh. This is what they were writing about. All the poets, every word of creativity they took from you … it’s this.

He closes his eyes and continues to sigh sonnets into your skin

Also, the last two lines of dialogue, and, I mean, “Fuck the connection” has to be right up there.

What are you most proud about in the story? (plot, characterisation, dialogue, twist/cliffhanger, etc)

The writing, actually. I’m not a poetic person, none of the poems in the fic are mine, but I’m pretty proud of the poetic nature of the writing.

Are there any ‘behind the scenes’ info you’d like to share - e.g. what’s going on in a characters head in a certain scene or how you came to write a certain line?

So, this is the fic that made me realise I needed to stop taking things so seriously lmao. @captainjowl can attest to the research I tend to do. In this case, every ice cream name was a legit flavour at the time, taken from a Baskin-Robbins website. The mural exists. The flowers and trees in the botanic gardens are flowers and trees found in that exact botanic garden. The hoodie! Taken straight from the Brooklyn Zoo website. The pasta they eat at the North Pond – I used Google Maps to make sure there was an Italian restaurant nearby and looked up ponds in Lincoln Park.

I've since tried to be more chill. Sometimes I fail.

Reading back the story now, is there anything you’d change or add?

I’d make it longer, if possible.

Would you ever write a sequel to this story?

It’s a nice idea, because I’d love to write something pretty again, but I have zero inspiration for it.

Are there any ‘easter eggs’ in your story - e.g. references to other stories you’ve written, a trope you often use etc?

Uh, if you’ve read this and Suncatcher you might notice that I, like Ian and Sandy, have a thing for The Doors.

If you’ve chosen your most popular story, are you surprised by the popularity?

I don’t know if this is my most popular story, but I was definitely surprised by the intensity of the comments I received. It was one time when I knew I’d written something good, but the way it made other people feel definitely took me by surprise.

Anything else you’d like the readers to know about the story?

I love that this was loved. I still go back and read it every now and then and just sigh.

[a-lilac-lyric]

 Possible explanations for why King Roland made his first wish on the Wishing Well

Now all of these aren't so much theories per say as “throwing stuff on a wall and seeing what sticks” because the showrunners could not delve into topics like this in the actual runtime, and it probably wouldn't have been very relevant to the story that they were trying to tell anyway, so nearly every theory has an equal likelihood to be true more or less.

  (I'm also not going to mention this in my write ups for the possible reasons for the wish, and we have no way of proving this one way or the other, but I'm always inclined to prefer the thought that Roland II had discussed making the wish with Lorelei before he actually made it since it would be something that would affect both of them. Even if it only physically affected one of them. Because this just seems like the type of thing you should tell your partner about if you do it).

 This is a long post (Over 2000 words), so I'm putting it under the cut, but TLDR there are several different magical and physical reasons that are possible.

 General content warning for discussion of topics that are too dark/medical to ever be shown in a kids show. Spoilers for Forever Royal.

 We should first start off with what the wish was in the first place in case you don't know or need a refresher. Word for word, this is how it's stated in the flashback scene in the episode Forever Royal:

  “In the nearby castle lived King Roland the Second, who had wanted a family so badly he tried making a wish in a wishing well. The wish came true, and twins were born. But the Queen fell gravely ill….* The children were happy but never knew what it was like to have a mother.”

 * The quote never says that she is dead in so many words, but the visual on screen is of the queen arranged on a bed with her eyes closed, holding flowers. There's basically no other way to interpret it except that she's been laid out for a funeral.

 Now, as a note, we never actually get to hear what her name is in the show, but the creator of the show Craig Gerber made a Twitter post saying that her name was Lorelei https://x.com/CraigGerber_/status/1038831208430370817?mx=2 (as a personal note I normally consider stuff that show creators or writers say on Twitter or other social media as secondary Canon, but I basically completely accept this because we don't have any alternative name, and it works. And I'm sure that they'd use it in the sequel series if they ever talk about her.) So I'm going to be referring to her with that name for the rest of this post.

 When analyzing this quote, it seems that “wanted a family” basically means “wanted to have biological children” since we know he already has a wife and family members like a sister and a mom. I just think it's interesting that they word it this way because it kind of masks what his actual wording would have been to the wishing well. Because in the episode “When you wish upon a well” the well did grant Amber’s second wish in a way that fulfilled the basic criteria of her wish, and yet caused an unintended side effect that deeply distressed Amber and put Sofia in danger. So, it could possibly be that the way Roland wished for children could also be interpreted as accidentally directly causing Lorelei’s death. But we don't know what the words were, so we don't know if that was what happened or not. “Fell gravely ill” is a vague enough statement that it can basically be interpreted to fit any kind of theory.

 So without further ado, here are almost all of the ways I could think of that could be motivation for making the wish. (AKA infertility theories.)

Magical reasons:

 In this world, magic is an everyday fact of life, so they could have been unable to have kids because of a curse! Now it could be a curse on either Roland or Lorelei, and then the curse was just too strong to be broken by regular magic, but the Well’s magic was strong enough to get past it, (permanently or temporarily). The possible motives could be basically anything. It could have been cast by a jealous ex-lover, or a person who thought that the union was bad for political reasons.

 But I did come up with a fun little theory that maybe it was a curse that was intended to be benevolent, behold: The Double Bloodline Curse!

 We know that the throne of Enchancia passes from oldest child to oldest child, and the same seems to be true for the royal wizard as well. Both lines are hereditary, and both are always parallel to each other. It makes sure that the reigning monarch always has a royal wizard and vice versa. But it is interesting because Roland the First and Goodwin the Great are approximately the same age, same with both of their sons, and both of their granddaughters to an extent, although the age difference is seemingly larger between Amber and Calista.

 Now this could be just a coincidence that the people in these families born for 3 generations are very close in age, but what if it wasn't? What if there was some kind of spell or curse set on the people from both bloodlines so that they wouldn't be able to have children until their counterpart(s) was/(were) also in a position to be able to have children. Let's say that Roland the Second married and tried to have kids, but both Cedric and Cordelia were not married or seeing anyone and/or just neither of them were interested in having children at that time. Therefore, the curse activated to prevent Roland II from having any children.

 And this curse was probably put on the line by an actual royal wizard from it, assuming that it would be better off for both families and the sake of the kingdom if the new monarch and the new wizard were always peers age wise so that they could both ascend to their positions at the same time. Is that flawed reasoning and ultimately going to hurt their families more than help them in the long run? Absolutely! But it wouldn't be the craziest or worst thing that someone from either of these families has done.

 It's definitely possible for it to be magical reasons and would be interesting to explore in fanfic, but this isn't the only possibility.

Biological reasons that are linked to infertility:

 The first one is what if Lorelei was unable to biologically have children.

 It's popular fan-cannon (and I have seen it used in several fan fictions), that Lorelei was too physically weak for her body to/she had some kind of physical condition that meant she couldn't bear children. But the wish overrode that condition and after giving birth she was so weak that whatever possible illness/birth complications/regular pregnancy recovery happened afterwards she wasn't strong enough to survive it.

 In my opinion this one seems plausible, but I personally do not like it and do not think it makes sense for the characters. If she seemed medically unfit to give birth before the wish, then it would be ludicrously irresponsible for Roland II to make a wish for her to have the kids that didn't also strengthen her in a way that she could have them and survive. Additionally, I believe that if there was a lot of worry throughout the pregnancy that she might not be able to survive it, that Roland would have just made a second wish for her to be strong enough.

 Some may argue that it wouldn't have been possible to strengthen her enough to be able to survive giving birth, but may I point out that the wishing well has the ability to turn a regular human girl into a cat. Like literally change your species. Strengthening someone enough so that they can survive a pregnancy seems pretty minor compared to turning someone into a cat.

 And Roland is normally pretty good at noticing when people he loves are in distress, he'll stop what he's doing and talk with them and try to make the situation better. Now if Lorelei was hiding her physical symptoms from everyone for whatever reason, it could be possible to do that with others especially servants who she didn't spend much time with, but considering how much time Roland spends with Miranda he probably spent the same amount of time with his first wife. If they were in close proximity to each other that often for months on end he would notice if something was wrong and ask her about it and try to solve the problem. Therefore, I personally don't subscribe to it in my own headcanons.

 Another interpretation of this is that Lorelei was the one who is unable to have children, but it was because of some type of condition that was not due to weakness but another type of biological factor(s). The wish allowed her to have the kids, but then she died because the Well directly took her life as a price for the wish/because of how the wish was worded. Or she just happened to get unlucky and die from one of the several medical reasons that a person can die from giving birth no matter their physical strength. It's pretty similar to the first one but I am much more inclined towards it.

 But what if Roland was the one who was biologically unable to have children?

 This one doesn't seem to be explored in any fan fictions I've seen but I think this one is interesting to consider as well. I think most people's reasoning is that if Lorelei died from the wish, then the wish must have just physically affected her and therefore cause [wish] equals effect [death], but if it was going to take her life as a price/consequence for the wish anyway, it may not have necessarily needed to have affected her physically at all. Or the Well never took her life at all, she just got really unlucky and died from random chance. And there's plenty of medical reasons that men can be unable to have children. We don't know what kind of medical knowledge they have in Enchancia, but it may not have been advanced enough to find a solution for Roland or even know that he was the one who was infertile.

 He could have caught an illness as a child that had adult infertility as a side effect (angst potential. If he was also isolated for a long period of time away from other kids this could also partially explain why he became estranged from Cedric). Or it could be a genetic reason, like being intersex (I say as I read that one of the most common noticeable effects of Klinefelter syndrome is being tall. And it would fulfill a certain letter for possible LGBTQIA+ headcannons). Or he could have been severely overworking and under eating (there are a few times in the show where he does this, albeit not to a self-destructive extent, and that’s after he’s had kids and been king for years, also angst potential).

 If this was true, then it could also be possible that he was only temporarily able to have kids depending on how the wish worked. Or depending on the wording of the wish he might only be able the have kids with Lorelei exclusively. So if he and Miranda wanted to make a kid together, they might not be able to (more angst), unless another wish was made (but I doubt he would risk it).

 And a really dark possibility for Roland being infertile is that maybe the wish did NOT make him fertile but instead had a, what I am going to describe as a “love potion” effect on Lorelei and she got pregnant from someone who was not Roland. Now I think that this possibility is really horrifying for a number of reasons, but I've never seen it used in a fanfiction before and I'm not sure if anyone else has ever thought of it, but it exists now. I say that Amber and James do look like Roland, but I would also say that they definitely look more like Lorelei than him, so if you wanted to do a horrifying big drama fanfic this is a possibility for that.

Biological/other reasons that are not infertility:

 But what if their trouble with having children wasn't linked to infertility?

 There is the possibility that Royal Prep/other schools they had gone to had such a terrible sex education class that neither of them knew how to get pregnant and at this point were too afraid to ask. So they wished for it instead. I think this one only works if you're going for an adult humor fanfiction because, this just seems really unlikely to me. Even if they hadn't been educated in school, they would probably still ask someone or have been told by someone or have read it in a book by this point. Especially since part of their job as ruling monarchs is to produce heirs, I'm sure someone in the court would have explained it to them if they didn't know.

 Another slightly more reasonable but still unlikely reason is that maybe one or both of them was asexual. So they needed another way to start the pregnancy and decided magic was a good way to do it. I feel like if this was true then they could have just solved this by going to an actual wizard or doctor and getting help from them, so I don't think this is very likely but I'm trying to go through all the possibilities here.

 But on a far more serious note there as been a possibility I've been thinking about lately that does seem likely considering how often it happens in real life. It could be possible that Roland and Lorelei had already tried to have children, and she was able to get pregnant, but it ended in a miscarriage or a stillbirth. Maybe she was already pregnant by the time Roland made the wish, and he wished that this time it would be a successful pregnancy. The way he looks in the flashback makes it seem like Roland is really sad and kind of desperate about the whole situation and if this possibility was true, then it adds an extra layer of sadness to the whole ordeal.

 ****Also, this isn't attached to any single theory but I wanted to add this: I think that whether the wish caused Lorelei’s death or she died from completely natural causes, it must have happened fairly quickly. If the illness that she got after giving birth lasted a long time, then wouldn't there have been enough time for Roland to have made another wish to save her? Meanwhile if it happened very quickly or without much warning then he may not have had enough time to save her. If it happened quickly, it would also mean that there was less of a chance for the doctors or midwives or sorcerers to do anything to save her.

 *****And regardless of whether it actually was the magic of the wish that killed her or it was from the same causes that any non magical birth can suffer from, I think Roland believes that it was his fault that Lorelei died. He probably doesn't know for sure whether it was the wish that did it or not, but that wouldn't matter if he felt like it was his fault. His exact words to Amber about it were: “My wish didn't turn out so well either.” But we know that he loves Amber and James, and he's very proud of them, so the quote isn't about being a father to them or their existence. So the only other possibility for him saying that it didn't turn out well is what happened to Lorelei.

On that note, those are all the reasons I could think of. Feel to say in the reblogs or comments which one you think is most likely and/or which one is your favorite. Here's a cookie for getting to the end of this post 🍪

[fritz-federleicht]

Kurt Cobain with a soulmate au with the writing on the arm thing? like he would write random lyrics on his arm not thinking about it and the reader would be confused because none of it makes sense but then it clicks like oh this guy is a musician and why does it sound like nirvana music? or maybe the reader is an artist and would draw flowers or something on their arm and Kurt would think it’s super cute? I know I'm rambling but I had this idea and I wasn’t sure how to write it XD

Dumb/ Kurt Cobain x reader

Notes: Thank you for the idea

Words: 956

You're in a small record store that is also a cafe. You stand in front of a huge shelf and browse through it, looking for new records. Soft music plays in the background to which you hum.

The bell above the door rings as it opens. You look up briefly. A lanky man with blond hair enters the store and sits down at one of the three tables in the corner. He orders a coffee from Max, the store owner and barista.

You concentrate again on the shelf in front of you.

A short time later, you stand at the counter. "Hey Max, can I have a latte? You know where to find me?"

"Hi Y/N, of course." Already he turns around and does his job.

You walk over to the tables. No one is sitting there except the blond man. He stares at his exposed arm. When he notices that someone is approaching him, he lifts his gaze.

His face is somehow familiar. You have probably seen him here before.

You sit down at the table next to him, put the records you found in front of you and look at the covers.

"Here Y/N, your latte."

"Thanks Max." You grin at him. He goes back behind the counter.

You immediately take a sip. You can't help but look to the blond.

He is writing intently on his arm. Since you sit relatively close to him you can read what he writes.

'Skin the sun, fall asleep

Wish away, the soul is cheap'

You frown. What does that mean? You look into his eyes, into those ocean blue eyes. Then you remember who he is. Kurt Cobain, the lead singer of Nirvana!

You don't want to disturb him, he deserves some peace. But you're also interested in what the lyrics mean.

"Hey sorry to bother you. I saw you writing something on your arm. What does it mean?"

"Oh, that." He points to his arm. "I don't know. It just popped into my head." He looked at you, thinking. "Do we know each other?"

You laugh. "I thought so too but no. I'm just in the store more often. We've probably seen each other here but never talked."

"Now that you mention it. You're always standing in front of all those records aren't you?"

"Yes, always looking for bargains. Mind if I join you? Only if you want to, of course." You ask shyly.

"Yeah sure. Have a seat." You settle down across from him.

"So what are you going to do with the text?" You point to his arm.

"You know I'm a singer. Do you know Nirvana?" He looks at you questioningly.

You grin. "Do I know Nirvana? Absolutely! I love them." You say. Who doesn't know Nirvana? Then you go on. "I know who you are, too. I just didn't want to be rude earlier and bother you with any questions about the band. You probably hear them way too much."

He takes a sip of his coffee and leans back in his chair, smiling. "Well, tell me your name first."

"Y/N."

Kurt straightens back up and extends his lanky hand to you. "Nice to meet you Y/N."

You take his hand. "Nice to meet you too Kurt."

"So, Y/N, I'm writing a new song." He stares thoughtfully at his arm. "But maybe I'll scrap this lyrics."

"Why? They're good. I don't understand anything, but they're really good."

He laughs. "Let's see." His blue eyes look back into yours. "You know I love writing my songs here."

"Isn't it a little risky? I mean it's a record store. Shouldn't there be Nirvana fans hanging out here all the time?"

"On the contrary. The store is so unknown that almost no one ever enters. That's why it's so quiet here." He brushes a strand of hair out of his face.

You look at him challengingly. "What if I tell everyone you've been hanging around?"

He laughs, "I don't think you would."

"Why?"

"Fans would come here looking for me. They'll see I'm not here and buy all your records instead."

You clutch your chest in mock concern. "You're right. I'd better not do that then."

"That's what I thought. Besides, I wouldn't set foot in this store, and we'd never see each other again." He waits for your reaction.

You look at him with your mouth open. "What?"

He repeats himself. "We would never see each other again."

You hold your cup. "I get that... But you want to see me again?"

He smiles. "I don't know. I like you."

You stare at him.

"Okay Y/N. I've got to go now. Give me your hand."

You obey and hold your hand in front of him.

He starts writing numbers on it. "Call me. Then we can have a date."

Kurt finishes his coffee and puts the empty cup on the table.

"I'll hear from you?"

You nod. "I'll call you."

You say goodbye to each other. Kurt joins Max at the counter and pays. He then leaves the record store. The bell rings.

You take a big sip from your cup. Kurt Cobain just gave you his number. The famous Kurt Cobain!

You call him the same day. You hit it off right away. Quickly you get together and are the new dream couple among celebrities. Nirvana fans love you, they see how happy you make Kurt.

He left the lyrics he had written on his arm in the song Dumb and didn't take it out. The song means a lot to you, because it reminds you of your first meeting in the record store.

[bonefall]

Does Clear Sky still have a second litter? I mean, he obviously won't be with Star Flower anymore, but he seems like the type to want to at least have one "proper heir", especially after Thunder turned his back on him and he lost almost all of his lives.

Good chance to mention that new names just dropped for me to play with; They've officially named Bright Stream's dead angel fetus children <3

(What the fuck is this series)

SO I now have Tiger Tail and Pale Sky to shuffle around as I please. I also still have the canon Star-Clear litter in my arsenal, but considering all I've done with Star Flower, I may find some other purpose for them.

Not to mention that Canon!Star Flower has a second litter on the way. So there might be more of these things running around. The writers are addicted to giving this asshole more children he can kill and abuse through neglect lol.

Thunder's siblings, the ones who got crushed in the building collapse, also have names now. Lightning and Rumble. It's important to BB!DOTC that Thunder Storm is the sole survivor of his litter, but I can shuffle them around too.

It does sound like a very BB!Skystar thing to do, to have new children and pointedly name them Rumble Sky and Lightning Sky. "I definitely don't think about my other son ever. These names are coincidence. I literally dont even care. I don't. I don't."

I plan to write Skystar's new litter as a mix of like... entitled, but also suffering like Thunder Storm did under him. Brats, but you have to feel bad for them, considering who's raising them

Still considering their ages, though. Depending on when they're born, it could have a big impact on the story. I think it could actually be very cool for Pale and Tiger to be the same age as Turtle's kits and meet Thunder Storm when he trains under Clear Sky, maybe even have one die in the First Battle.

And who the mother is, of course. Probably not someone who he treats very well <:/

[goose-duck]

trolls x Male reader //characters mentioned: Floyd, Veneer, Velvet, Y/N

I thought abt this and decided to write it, ur velvet and veneer's little brother. Why brother? Why not gender neutral? Bc I'm male and I want to be the center of attention, okay?YOU ARE SIBLINGS IN THIS, DONT GET WEIRD!! AND FLOYD AND YOU ARE JUST BUDDIES!! NO FUNNY BUSINESS!!

~~~~~~~~

Veneer's PoV:I was just laying on the couch in the living room, it's just a Saturday, no shows no nothing, boring. Velvet doesn't even want me to do anything today and I haven't seen Y/N yet today so he's probably still asleep..or doing something foolish, you never really know with that guy.Y'know, I could go talk to the troll...oh what's his name..? Do trolls have a name..? Oh! Flower? I think that's his name! Flower! I'll go talk to him.

••••••3rd person PoV:Veneer walks into the studio room to talk to Floyd when he sees that Floyd is in fact, not there. The whole diamond perfume bottle is gone actually! The troll Veneer trollnapped has been double trollnapped!

••••••Veneer's PoV:Sh*t...oh no...Vel's gonna kill me when she finds out Flower is missing! What do I do? What do I do? Aaaahhh.

••••••3rd person PoV:Veneer starts running around looking for "Flower" and yelling "Flower, where are you?" . Everyone in the building assumes he either lost his mind or is looking for flour for baking, not that they've ever seen him bake, but who knows what those twins get up to in their free time? I mean, their little brother bakes so who's to say the older siblings don't?

••••••Veneer's PoV: I still haven't found that dang troll! What do I dooo? Ughhh!I walk past my little brother's room to hear him talking to someone, maybe he's in a phone call...but I like to know who he's talking to because he's ended up talking to some real strange people without knowing it thanks to me and Vel bringing him to put shows. I kind of feel bad about it so I try to protect him where I can while still letting him have fun.I stand just outside Y/N's bedroom door, which he's conveniently left open. I'm just out of view from where his bed is. I don't understand why he wanted such a small room actually, he just insisted on it, saying it was more cozy or something? Maybe it is, but I'm not interested in finding out.Anyway, I stand outside his room and listen quietly to hear who he's talking to.It's that troll! I recognize that voice! What's he doing talking to my little brother!? What was Y/N doing in the studio? ...what has that troll told him..? If he knows what me and Vel did will he still love us...?I start to get worried and lean against the wall, sliding down it until I get to the floor. It's really hitting me now just how bad everything we did to that troll and everyone else is. I knew it was bad, but now that I'm worrying my little brother might never want to talk to me again...I don't know...it just really solidifies how bad of a person I've become just to make Velvet happy...

••••••Earlier in the dayY/N's PoV:I was just wondering around the mansion, it's early morning and I woke up before everyone else, as per usual. It's winter break so I don't have to go to school, but I'm still stuck on that schedule for waking up at 5, which is annoying because I was really hoping to sleep in. My older siblings are so lucky! They're famous so they don't have to go to school right now, they make so much money off their music that it doesn't matter what else they do.I remember them always being really bad singers...I guess maybe they took voice lessons? I vaguely remember Veneer saying something about that...I wish the would have asked me to sing with them but I guess that would have thrown off the twins gimmick if their little brother is also with them. I'm a great singer...I did choir for years...I've sung on stages for crowds many times...I can even play a few instruments...maybe I should just make my own music career?Actually, that'd be something to do with my morning since no one's awake to tell me not to...I can use their studio! I don't think I'll actually become famous, but it might just be fun to play with the equipment and pretend I'm a famous singer like Velvet and Veneer!

••••••3rd person PoV:Y/N starts walking to the recording studio. Normally Velvet or Veneer would make him leave but since they're both asleep no one's there to him from just going in, except maybe a lock? But Y/N doesn't believe either sibling is attentive enough to actually lock a door.

••••••Y/N PoV:I slowly push open the studio door, trying to be quiet just in case Crimp hears me and goes to wake the twins up.Once inside the room the first thing I notice is this diamond perfume bottle with this little blue thing in it, it seems alive.I walk over to it and pick up the perfume bottle, the thing inside groans, I feel bad for it and set it down."Sorry...did I hurt you..?" I ask shyly, feeling bad that I upset whatever it was.The blue thing looked shocked at my apology and shook it's head, "no, no, who...who are you? I've never seen you before, it's usually just Velvet and Veneer and sometimes Crimp.""Oh..um..I'm Y/N, I'm Velvet and Veneer's little brother. Who are you? And why are you in a perfume bottle..?" I ask curiously, I'm rather confused by why my siblings have a tiny thing in a perfume bottle."I'm Floyd, it's nice to meet you, Y/N. I don't know how you're gonna take this or if you'll even believe me, but your siblings have been keeping me in this perfume bottle and using my talent so they can sing! It's...kinda killing me..." He said nervous for my reaction.I'm upset that my siblings would go that care but not surprised either, I figure it's more Velvet's doing than Veneer's as she tends to push him around a lot, he actually kind of seems scared of her...I wonder what she does to him when I'm not around if she also does things like this to tiny blue men... actually...that's a weird looking man...I should ask him what he is."What...what are you..?" I ask awkwardly, it's such a strange question to ask someone, but I wanted to know, he's something I've never seen before.He gives me a weird look before collecting himself and saying, "I'm a troll."I gave him a weird look but nodded afterwards like it was normal. I kind of remember Velvet saying something abouts trolls in a band called "BroZone" but maybe I'm delusional? Maybe I should just ask Floyd since he's here."Um...like...from BroZone..?" I ask with some suspicion that I'm correct.He responds," yeah, Floyd, from BroZone...that's me." "Sweet." I say casually before continuing, "so...my siblings trapped you in a perfume bottle and are kinda killing you, yeah?" Floyd nods. "Cool cool...well, not cool, but, like, I'm comprehending the situation, y'know? Why am I still talking...ahhh...um.." you looked at the clock seeing it's almost 10, the time when the twins wake up, so you panic and grab the perfume bottle and run to your room. You were in such a rush that when you got in there you didn't even close the door, you just hid under the blankets with Floyd."Sorry for just grabbing you...I hope you didn't get hurt..." You say worriedly."No no, I'm okay..." Floyd says, clearly a little shaken up."Ahh, what do we do? My siblings will be awake any minute! I'd just let you go but what if they see you and hurt you?..." Y/N starts thinking out loud about how to keep Floyd safe.Floyd comforts Y/N a bit, telling him that it's gonna be okay and that they can stay under the blankets and talk about how to do this.

••••••Present timeVeneer's PoV:I start panicking in the hallway about what might happen, there's no way Y/N doesn't know what Velvet and I did, he's gonna hate us! What do I do now?I see Velvet walking over, she looks angry."Veneer! Did you take the troll!" She yells at me, not even realizing the door to Y/N's room is wide open.I give her a worried look and shush her, pointing at Y/N's room. She then groans and storms off, telling me that we'll talk about this later.I see Y/N slowly pop his head out of his room and look at me, he doenst look happy, he looks disgusted and maybe even a bit scared.He asks me, "why'd you do it..? Why are you hurting this troll..? If you couldn't sing you could have been a model or an actor...it's still not too late for that stuff...just stop hurting him..." He sounds so sad, so dissapinted in me.I'm supposed to be his older brother yet I'm the immature one who was so desperate for fame and money that I hurt an innocent troll..."I'm sorry for what I did to Flower...I... shouldn't have done it...it's too late to go back on it now...I know that...but...I can help you get him past Velvet and out of here...we'll talk more about what I did later, okay? The priority right now is to get Floyd to safety. Sound good, Y/N?" I say sincerely, I truely do feel bad, I'm just so afraid of Velvet, but seeing that look on my little brother's face...I just couldn't take it any longer.Y/N agrees without a second thought, he just wants Flower to be happy and free, I guess maybe they've become friends while Velvet and I were sleeping? Anyway, not the time for logistics! It's time to save this troll!I see Y/N make a weird face for a moment before looks at me and saying, "Flower?" In a very judgy tone.I was confused and responded, "t-the troll..?"Y/N rolls his eyes at me and sighs, "yup.. definately his name...""Well what's his name?" I ask awkwardly."His name is Floyd, ya damn kidnapper!..trollnapper!" Y/N says rudely before getting up and picking up the perfume bottle with Floyd in it.I apologize quickly before I hear Velvet's heels on the ground and grab Y/N and run down the hall away from Velvet.••••••A few minutes of sneaking around the house later...Y/N's PoV:I was so shocked that Veneer was helping me, I thought he'd just cry or something like that, but he's actually helping me help Floyd...hm...that still doenst make up for what he did and we'll have to talk about this later, but it's still sweet that he's trying..my big brother has always been soft hearted...so it's nice to see him show that side.

••••••Floyd PoV:Dispite Velvet and Veneer's behavior their little brother is very kind hearted, he wanted to help me without a second thought. It's nice to know that some people aren't just power hungry succubi...I guess Veneer isn't either is he..? He's just the scared brother to Velvet. Still doenst make up for the fact that he joined in on Velvet's plan, but it does explain it...so though he's not completely off the hook in my mind, I don't hate him either.

••••••Veneer PoV:We're almost at the front door and we haven't ran into Velvet yet, this is good, maybe everything will go smoothly..? Damn it! Now that I thought that something's gonna- "Aaaa!!" I scream as I slip on soapy water in the hallway, falling onto my butt.Y/N laughs at me as he gracefully slides past me and over to the door, "haha! Should have taken ice skating with me as a child!" He opens the door and lets Floyd out of the perfume bottle."Bye bye, Floyd" Y/N waves sweetly at Floyd and he waves back. I also wave at Floyd and give him a shy smile, he nods at me as a thank you before saying to Y/N, "Thank you for saving me, I thought I was gonna die in that bottle...haha, goodbye, have a nice life you two!" He then starts walking away.Y/N says one final thing," I hope to meet again sometime!"Floyd responds by looking behind him and nodding with a smile before continuing on his way home.

••••••After Veneer and Nolan talk in Nolan's roomVeneer PoV:Me and my little brother talked about what happened, he still seems dissapinted in me but he understands why I did it. He doesn't seem to want to hold it against me but said he'll support Floyd if next time we see him he holds this over my head and honestly I agree with that, I deserve it.Y/N told me he's gonna talk to Velvet about it and that I don't have to join him if I'm too scared to, but that he's going to be giving Velvet and earful about this.Heh, for the youngest sibling, Y/N sure does act like our older brother.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stories over <3I hope u liked it :>I tried very hard to get my thoughts into words

[navvyu]

An: Thanks for requesting! This request is so cute (*＾წ＾*) also i'd like to note i used wikihow as a reference point for this writing (。_。) i hope it's to your liking (๑•̀ㅂ•́)و✧ (PS this is pretty unorganized... oops?)

(reader is referred to as girlfriend!)

Trans fem! Reader coming out to them

*not beta read

Includes: Azul, Jamil, Jade (established relationship w/ all) +Bonus Floyd and Najima (platonic)

Azul

Azul maybe confused at first and may need you to explain a little bit but he's very supportive!

He compares it to some sea animals that have hermaphroditic features

Azul is willing to try and find some temporary fixes to dysphoria like potions or something

He comes up with the most cheesy pet names for you, stuff like "My wonderful, gorgeous, darling, girlfriend" and "My beautiful girlfriend" etc.

Will PERSONALLY beat up transphobes. It doesn't matter if he's horrible at physical activity, HE WANTS TO THROW HANDS.

Will cover expenses for HRT along with estrogen and anti-androgens

Azul will stop working just to comfort you if your feeling dysphoric at any point

He'll accompany you to pride parades, protests, and any LGBT+ events you wish to go to

During pride month he puts out a limited time menu that has 'lgbt+ themed' drinks and dishes (maybe some merch if he has a little extra money)

Azul helps make your social transition as easy as he can make it, for example: He has changed your school id to have your chosen name, he kinda eases his employes and other people into using your chosen name and pronouns, along with other small but meaningful changes

He paints your nails 'feminine' colors every few weeks just as a hobby because he thinks it's fun

"My darling, your so gorgeous... I'm so lucky to have you."

Jamil

Jamil is fully supportive, and he's very proud that you came out to him

Jamil if he knows that your comfortable with sharing your transition, may mention it to Kalim.

Kalim being Kalim will cover all expenses related to your transition simply for the reason he wants to help you out and he genuinely thinks you deserve a stress-free transition

Jamil is willing to basically do anything to help your dysphoria, no but literally he will do like ANYTHING

He usually walks with you to go get your estrogen or anything you need to pick up relating to your transition (he just wants to make sure nobody is bothering you for needing your stuff)

Has a burning hatred for transphobes but he can't really do anything physically because as his status as a servant but he won't shy away from being extremely passive aggressive

If you decide to grow your hair out, he likes brushing through it and styling it

If you want to go to any LGBT+ events he'll go with you, if your lucky he might buy you some stuff

Jamil is excellent on helping you with your social transition, though he may slip up like twice

Jamil is excellent at doing makeup, if you ask him to do your makeup he'll gratefully comply

"There... now your dazzling as ever."

Jade

Jade, like Azul needs a bit of explaining what it means but he has a better understanding of what being trans fem is

Very supportive, he actually asks Azul for a little extra on that weeks pay check so he can take you on a shopping spree

Jade definitely helps with the costs and Azul and Floyd Probably Pitch in so you barely have to pay for any treatments regarding your transition

If you feel dysphoric Jade will do one of three things: 1) Wrap you in a fluffy blanket, 2) He rants to you about his mushrooms to get your mind off your dysphoria, 3) Verbal praise about how absolutely beautiful you are

Jade is usually the one going out to get supplies for you ("just because" is his reason)

If Jade encounters a transphobe that has the gull to bother you he will but his classic customer service smile on then he'll give them a 'modest' beating

has you try on jewelry, or go out to pick flowers with him every other week

If you want to go to a pride parade Jade buys a shirt that just says in comic sans "I love my girlfriend" and he wears it to EVERY parade

any other LGBT+ events he is willing to go with you

he's great at aiding your social transition, He's surprisingly good at making people slip up less on your name and pronouns

if your into fashion, he'll buy you women's fashion magazine's and then he'll just leave them on your bedside table

"Is it just me or are you more beautiful today?"

Bonus! :

Floyd

Floyd is fully supportive of your transition!

Floyd tastes you about dating Jade saying stuff like; "Why would you date Jade? All he talks about are his nasty mushrooms."

He will beat someone up in your honor, no questions asked

Floyd paints your nails every other week IT'S NON-NEGOTIABLE (if you don't want to he won't force you but he really enjoys it)

If he finds out somebody was being transphobic to you he will squeeze them like literally the second after he learns who

Overall nothing really changes from his normal behavior

"Heyyy shimpy! Tell Jade it's unfair HE gets such a cool girlfriend."

Najima

Najima (platonically) LOVES you

She quite literally just drags you away from Jamil so you two can hang out

Every time you visit her, she insists that you two have a girl night: face masks, painting nails, gossip, eating snacks, karaoke, the whole package

She's loves teasing Jamil about how he "Finally got somebody to deal with [his] horrible attitude"

Najima will bitch slap somebody if they are transphobic towards you

If your visiting her and you need your estrogen, she'll go with you to get it

if you want any advice, she your girl!

"Finally another girl! Hope Jamil doesn't mind if I steal you for a while!"

hermaphroditic - a sexually reproducing organism that produces both male and female gametes(- ability to have both female and male reproductive systems)

Extra note: I added Floyd and Najima in the POV that your dating their sibling thats why they are not written as romantic :DD

[nonuggetshere]

I loved reading all of that. It's so funny how PK's sibs, and at points his dame, tease him. I love it so much 😆

It also got me thinking.

Would it be possible, in another AU (maybe like wayward royals or somewhere waaaaayyy down in FAaF), for Flower them to run into WLs Father. Or, maybe Flower gets separated and meets him by accident. Would he realize their kin or just see him as a territorial threat?

THANK YOU it's one of my favourites, writing family dynamics is so entertaining

AND FUNNY YOU MENTION THAT because I actually have an AU where they meet both of their grandparents! But first, some info about Quercus, then more info about the AU itself

This is gonna get super rambly bc I'm copy-pasting mine and Integrity's messages from discord

His name is Quercus and he is old as balls

He had Amanita when he was very very old too and these two were particularly close because she was the only surviving seedling. She's never seen his persona face to face but they talked a lot and he took great care of her (I think I already mentioned how roots grow up and how he's like with his children)

The kingdom he resides in is quite literally built around, on and into his giant ancient root body. He hasn't fully abandoned his former form like his daughter had and resides in a sort of in-between, which roots can do. His smaller form is connected to his body and is more residual from ages long past when he used to properly rule the kingdom. Now he's retreated from this role and many of the kingdom's peoples don't even realise that the higher being whose body they live in is still alive

He keeps his body beneath the ground, in a chamber he dug amongst his roots, where he mostly resides in and feeds on any poor schmuck that decides to venture into (and get lost in) the twisting, long tunnels amongst his roots

It's been a long time since he's communicated with anyone face to face, which he doesn't mind, roots aren't particularly social and are quite literally built to remain stationary with very little outside stimuli for a very long time

A mortal would have probably go insane if they spent their human lifespan's equivalent in isolation like he did but he's quite literally built different

And when I say ancient I mean ANCIENT

When he had Amanita he probably would be like the human equivalent of a 110 year old

But roots don't die of old age and he's strong and healthy so he's still kicking

The few AUs where he and Adamas meet they do NOT get along its actually so funny

Worsties in law

SO THE AU

I've mentioned that higher beings in my AU have the ability to sense who is their kin and it's especially strong in rootfolk, it's needed considering how they reproduce to avoid inbreeding

LONG story short, Flower needed a fucking break from Everything, ended up getting lost, ended up chancing upon their grandma and almost got their ass beaten by her before she realised they're her kin, after they left she had a bad feeling and decided to follow to keep an eye on them, they arrived at their grandfather's former kingdom and decided hey checking out these tunnels that supposedly nobody came out of alive would be a good idea, Adamas obviously sensed this ancient god in there and followed to keep Flower's dumb ass safe, bullshit ensues when she interrupts him excitedly introducing himself to the first grandkid he's ever met and asking about his daughter

And the two get into a massive argument. Because it just didn't occur to them that their children could EVER end up together

And Flower can't get a word in to explain

Adamas might not be a god but she's so willing to square up against one about this, Flower is HER kin so you can go fuck yourself you overgrown carrot

Flower: Fucking hell, now I get why my parents are Like That

Quercus: they’re clearly a root!

Adamas: they’re clearly a wyrm!

Flower: I—

Adamas: where’s their vines and roots and flowers than Hm? You’ve gone mad in old age

Flower: hey guys—

Quercus: Bold words from a mortal

Adamas: I might not be a god but I still don't mind kicking the ass of one!

Flower: OKAY! Alright! Enough fighting! Here's a wild idea; I am both of yours grandchild

Quercus: ...No

Adamas: Impossible

Quercus: Why would any of my children lower their standards so much as to take something as beastly as a wyrm for a partner?

Adamas, bristling: What could a root even provide for any of my clutches, besides sustenance after ripping into one? You're all soft, lazy pushovers

Flower: Fucking hell–

Flower: what if I ditched you both and left. What then. What if just leave

They just. Ditch their grandparents but of course Adamas goes to hunt them down

Adamas: Didn't your sire and dame teach you it's rude to sneak away like that?

Flower: I didn't sneak away, I even said goodbye, you were just too preoccupied with tour squabbles. Why do you keep following me anyways?

Adamas: It's not often I get to meet my grandchildren, let alone one's so careless or stupid enough to not only wander into another wyrm's densite but to also march into an ancient, hungry God's open maw. Somebody has to teach you self preservation because clearly whichever of my children had you failed at that

Flower: Oh, joy...

Adamas: …which one was it anyways?

Flower, who doesn’t even know PK or WL’s name: ….. the pale short one?

Adamas, also pale and kind of short: .......Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?

Adamas, starting to list names:

Flower: I don’t know his name

Adamas: ??????????

Adamas: Are you serious?

Flower: ...Does the Pale King of Hallownest ring a bell?

Adamas: You only know him by his title?

Flower: It's a long story, don't dodge the question

Adamas: I suppose I've heard of him, wyrm kingdoms aren't that common nowadays- isn't he a god? One of my children is an actual god?

Flower: Wh- how did you hear of him but never realised he was your son? You have no right to judge me holy shit

Adamas: So it's decided, I'm going back to Hallownest with you and beating your parent's ass

Flower: HUH WHAT

Adamas: Fucker can't teach you how to take care of yourself and makes you use their title, I'm setting their ass straight if that's the last thing I do

Flower: WHO'S DECIDING THIS WE DIDN'T DECIDE SHIT I DO NOT AGREE TO THIS

SORRY GOT OFF TOPIC

Point is, Quercus would recognise Flower (and any other grandkid) and would ADORE them, especially if he knew they came from his little princess. But PK and his part of the family? Yeah uh. The old man does Not like nor approve of them

I think the only thing Adamas and Quercus would agree on is that Flower's parents kind of suck

Especially if they find out about the whole vessel thing

[bobbybutterfly]

A Squirrel and Hedgehog OC. OoooooOOOooo. I was about to say it’s my second one (I’ve got a squirrel I never posted about before) but then I remembered Geumseagi’s dad. I think we could also have a philosophical discussion about how many head cannons can you lump up on a character before they become an OC. I imagine it’s when you change the character’s name. That’s just the last straw.

Changing up pre existing characters is a skill I learned from writing real people fan fiction. By the time you’re done writing your femboy pagan priest turned an immortal 20 something sparking dictator after the film market collapsed with the rise of AI, people will scratch their heads as to how this character ever started life as Tom Hanks. But most importantly you don’t get sued!

By the way this was an actual character I made. I never put out the unfinished book on the internet outside of one chapter on AO3. I was getting tired of working on it for I think over 2 years with no results.

This character though is original in that they’re not inspired by any character from Squirrel and Hedgehog specifically. I will talk about my inspiration for them later.

So. Their name is Shiho Tenshi as you can see. It means white angel. Originally they were supposed to be called Shiho Akuma, meaning white devil But it didn’t make sense to me that they would be called that by the weasels. They’re a war hero to them after all. Probably the Flower Hill animals would call them whatever the Korean translation of white devil is. Hayan Agma. Language is something that goes unaddressed in the series. It’s an idea I want to incorporate into my AU. Primary example being that the weasels kept Mulmangcho around as a translator.

Shiho Tenshi isn’t their real name. No one knows their “real name”. I should also mention that they’re gender fluid and use they/them pronouns. Also also they’re a white weasel if you didn’t notice. Growing up they were a poor orphan on the streets. They learned very quickly that by changing up how they behave and look they were gendered differently. Seeing their love for performance a traveling acting troupe took them in. They would preform for soldiers at military bases. Providing cheap entertainment.

One day though the base they’re performing at gets attacked. Using their sword skills they heroically defend the base earning them a place in the military. They rarely use guns or martial art. Preferring their elegant silver sword. The military allows it as it makes for some good propaganda posters. They absolutely despise all Flower Hill animals. Appearing ruthless and brutal. The peak of military masculinity. But when it comes to weasels and surprisingly mice they are kind almost motherly and willing to sacrifice themselves whenever it comes to it. They like mice because the acting troupe was primarily mice.

What do you think? I wanted to play with gender roles when it came to them. My main inspiration was Hoshiko Kawasima. They are a very interesting World War 2 queer historical figure. I would recommend checking them out. Then the character Lady Oscar from the manga Rose of Versailles. They were totally based off of Kawasima. There’s too many coincidences! Lastly their whole acting part was based off of the Takarazuka Revue. It’s an all female acting troupe in Japan. They’re really cool.

This picture was based off of a promotional image of Lady Oscar for their performance of Rose of Versailles. The background inspiration was from @32girassoisdevangogh I am trying to go more abstract graphic design for backgrounds of character art. Mainly because I’m just too tired after 5 hours of rendering. So prepare yourselves for more comic sands and pixelated images of puppies and kittens because graphic design is my passion as you can see from my tumblr banner!

I’m not really sure what I’m going to do with this character. They’re not going to be included in my Super Secret Project. Maybe I can write a short story about them or roleplay. We will see.

Bobby out!

[ae-neon]

Reading Throne of Glass (4-9)

Again. I'm nitpicking, it's just how I enjoy a lot of my media. Overall I'm still giving the story a fair chance. (Except the Nehemia plotline)

Chapter 4

Really great opening paragraph, like honestly so good.

Proof sjm once understood that starvation would decrease breast size. Also proof that misogyny rots the brain cause god forbid Nesta didn't look hot enough for Cassian to fuck during her depressive breakdown.

Sorry, back to tog.

This chapter is great, amazing even.

Everything from Celaena falling asleep on the floor cause the bed feels too different after her horrible year in the mines

-> her reaction to sunlight and the small bits of hope she has

-> her figuring out a way to kill Chaol every 15 minutes.

-> her solemn reaction to the fact that no one else would be leaving the mines in anyway except death.

The scene with the dogs was nice. I like the interaction and characterization going on between these 3 main characters.

The scenery and worldbuilding is good too. We have Ellwye, the West, Wendlyn, The Witch Kingdom, the East, Endovier, Ardalan and Rifthold all mentioned and somewhat defined within narrative context. No info dumping, just small relevant tidbits.

Okay so Celaena is 18, Dorian is 20, Chaol is 22.

It's almost shocking how reasonable sjm used to be.

Celaena's a little crazy but it's fun sometimes. She says she's trying to get under Chaol's skin but she's the one saying he's not very nice and being bothered when he doesn't engage with her.

22 is much better than I thought. But he honestly has to be not only the best swordsman in the country but also a very high up, well connected young lord to be Captain of the Royal Guard.

Me and Celaena locked in, fr. She clocked him as a Lord.

Also characters with a strong sense of justice >>>>> another 5 points for Chaol.

Top tier chapter overall.

Chapter 5

The forest scene is cool. King Brannon. 2000 years ago. Fae. Hope this plays a big role.

If the Fae are just gonna be dudes who run around the same as humans (with pointy ears and magic) why make them immortal? I don't think sjm really comprehends the concept or how otherworldly it really is.

She knew plenty about this forest, knew that the denizens of this place had once been faeries: gnomes, sprites, nymphs, goblins, more names than anyone could count or remember. All ruled by their larger, human-like cousins, the immortal Fae—the original inhabitants and settlers of the continent, and the oldest beings in Erilea.

Just say Elves, I beg of you

Okay but surely the King of Ardalan, aka Dorian Senior, banning magic and making it disappear is an act of magic itself? Like unless bro is god, the simple act of banning magic would not erase its existence.

The King of Adarlan had outlawed it all—magic, Fae, faeries—and removed any trace so thoroughly that even those who had magic in their blood almost believed it had never really existed, Celaena herself being one of them.

This all just happened within the last maximum 30 years. She herself just told us Fae are immortal. How the fuck would they forget they ever had magic? There are humans old enough to still remember.

"It had been a while since she’d contemplated the gifts she’d lost, though the memory of her abilities haunted her dreams." okay so it's happened only in the last 10 years??? That means everyone still remembers. Why not just write that Celaena could barely remember instead of implying it was a common thing.

Still really like her descriptions of the forest and of the faeries.

I'm guessing gnomes left her flowers. We'll probably never see them again.

Chapter 6

Icy rain kept them company for four days, during which time Celaena was so miserably cold that she contemplated throwing herself into a ravine, hopefully dragging Chaol with her.

Her dedication to murdering him is quite endearing, I fear

The weather hits for me rn because it's autumn here too.

...the Crown Prince pulled out of line and came trotting toward them, his dark hair bouncing. His red cape rose and fell in a crimson wave. Above his unadorned white shirt was a fine cobalt-blue jerkin trimmed with gold. She would have snorted, but he did look rather good in his knee-high brown boots. And his leather belt did go nicely—even though the hunting knife seemed a bit too bejeweled.

Dorian the fashionista

Okay wait. The castle is half stone half glass... Can you just see into the castle? How did they even build that. If this was wheel of time or something I'd assume it was a modern skyscraper being seen through the eyes of people who didn't understand that. But there haven't been any other clues to suggest post apocalyptic fantasy stuff... Idk how I feel about this

The writing continues to be good. Celaena's dreams are pretty disturbing and her moment of quiet contemplation while staring at the greenish glow of the glass castle was really solemn and grounding. I think her thoughts about putting kingdoms behind her would have really hit if sjm revealed her identity and still had her refuse to rule.

"She wasn’t fated for anything. Not anymore"

During this scene the weight of her life experiences so far - running from her burning home at 8, losing her magic, being taken in by a man she couldn't trust, being made to murder for a living, being betrayed (most likely by that same man) and ending up in a slave mine - feels real, feels like it's made her truly lonely.

Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

Okay so why didn't sjm give Feyre a moment like this if we're supposed to believe Rhysand is her destined true love.

Chapter 7

There's a sense of life in this story thats really missing from acotar. Rifthold has flags and sigils and trumpets announcing the Prince's return. The horses smell, the city smells, the spices from the market smell, the river smells. Like there's a world here and it's tangible.

Acomaf really is the grave. And stans act like it's her magnum opus. No wonder sjm doesn't talk to them.

From bearded peddlers to servant girls carrying armfuls of hatboxes, everyone paused as the flag-bearers trotted proudly ahead, and Dorian Havilliard waved. They followed the Crown Prince, who, like Chaol, was swathed in a red cape, pinned over the left breast with a brooch fashioned after the royal seal. The prince wore a golden crown upon his neat hair, and she had to concede that he looked rather regal. Young women flocked to them, waving. Dorian winked and grinned.

Nobody in Velaris or the Hewn City or Illyria gives a fuck about Rhysand like this lmaooo

Now that she noticed, there were countless chained slaves working the docks, lifting and sweating, holding parasols and pouring water, eyes on the ground or the sky—never on what was before them. She wanted to leap from her horse and run to them, or to simply scream that she wasn’t a part of this prince’s court, that she had no hand in bringing them here, chained and starved and beaten, that she had worked and bled with them, with their families and friends—she was not like these monsters that destroyed everything. That she had done something, nearly two years ago, when she had freed almost two hundred slaves from the Pirate Lord.

I get what sjm was trying to do but the White Woman Energy™ is off the charts. It's not about you and you being seen as bad. Decentre yourself from the slavery narrative, please and thank you.

Kinda disappointed Celaena didn't spot any other spies or assassins lurking about. She was strangely unobservant for once.

Spears erect, they held rectangular shields, and their eyes were dark beneath bronze helmets. Each wore a red cape. Their armor, while tarnished, was well crafted from copper and leather.

Actual description of uniform and weapons rather than just "Illyrian leathers" "Illyrian knives/swords" BUT why does the description sound like Roman soldiers when we're clearly in a renaissance-esque fantasy time period

No, okay, I don't like the literal glass castle on top of a stone castle. Celaena agrees.

Dorian: you won't compete as yourself, we'll keep it a secret.

Dorian at the entrance to the castle while nobles and guards are welcoming him back: WELCOME CELAENA SARDOTHIEN

They were each armed with a sword, knife, and crossbow, and though they’d been alert while their captain passed by, she knew a crossbow wasn’t exactly a light weight to bear for hours on end. Celaena crept to her bedroom window, pressing herself against the marble wall, and glanced down. Sure enough, the guards had already strapped the crossbows across their backs. It would waste precious seconds to grab the weapon and load it—seconds when she could take their swords, cut their throats, and vanish into the gardens.

Smart, and even adding to her character weight and credibility. She surveys the room, makes a weapon and categorises what she could use to kill. Legit feels like a competent assassin.

Even the clothes are so much better than in acotar. What happened to sjm??

“He has a big heart, His Highness.” hahaha Dorian is apparently out here hoeing, I respect it.

Not the literal throne of glass.

And then there was the matter of Dorian’s sapphire eyes—not even his mother had his eyes. No one knew where they came from.

I hope this matters

The conversation between Dorian Snr and Dorian Jr is loaded with politics:

King Dorian I is a conqueror

Dorian II doesn't want to inherit the empire.

The younger brother isn't really a threat, neither of them take Hollin seriously.

Ardalan is in active war against Wendlyn

Why call Celaena a witch if the race of Witch exists. Why not just call her a snake or temptress or something

Dorian wants to kill his dad. He just like me fr.

Chapter 8

Okay. Chaol has an eagle shaped pommel on his sword. Dorian's sigil is a wyvern. The guy Celaena ends up with can turn into a bird I think. Rhysand, Cassian and Azriel have bat wings. The love interest in Ccity is an angel. SJM has a thing for wings, yes?

Tamlin not having wings is more proof of Feylin not being endgame than anything else you can point to in the text.

Chaol is giving the assassin a tour of the castle... Is he stupid??

The competition begins tomorrow??????

“I don’t understand why you refuse to enter the glass addition,” he went on. “There’s no difference between the interiors—you wouldn’t even know that you were inside it unless someone told you or you looked out the window.”

I lack the visual imagination to understand what the fuck is going on with this building. It really just sounds like a skyscraper

A clocktower made of black stone. Something like you'd see at the Gates of Wyrd. Hmmm. King built a spooky magic tower thing around the birth of his son. The same king magically made magic disappear.... The gargoyle on the tower points to a tile in the garden with a symbol on it. It's feeling very Da Vinci Code rn

A library... I miss Nesta.

The letter exchange between Celaena and Dorian is better than anything in acomaf. I said what I said. Including it for proof:

Your Highness—

It has come to my attention that your library isn’t a library, but rather a personal collection for only you and your esteemed father to enjoy. As many of your million books seem to be present and underused, I must beg you to grant me permission to borrow a few so that they might receive the attention they deserve. Since I am deprived of company and entertainment, this act of kindness is the least someone of your importance could deign to bestow upon a lowly, miserable wretch such as I.

Yours most truly,

Celaena Sardothien

Celaena beamed at her note and handed it to the nicest-looking servant she could find, with specific instructions to give it immediately to the Crown Prince. When the woman returned half an hour later with a stack of books piled in her arms, Celaena laughed as she swiped the note that crowned the column of leather.

My Most True Assassin,

Enclosed are seven books from my personal library that I have recently read and enjoyed immensely. You are, of course, free to read as many of the books in the castle library as you wish, but I command you to read these first so that we might discuss them. I promise they are not dull, for I am not one inclined to sit through pages of nonsense and bloated speech, though perhaps you enjoy works and authors who think very highly of themselves.

Most affectionately,

Dorian Havilliard

What happened to Sarah, when did she abandon romance?

Also. Again. This is supposed to be kept secret but she signed her name??? And Dorian responds "my assassin" any courier or spy would have had them by the balls before the day was done.

IS THAT KALTAIN??? Her ladies are idiots.

Ahhh, classic YA girlhate

Chapter 9

Super short chapter.

Aww, Chaol.

----

Overall I'm still enjoying this more than I expected.

Again what happened to sjm? This love triangle is building so well.