#non-hiccup writing

[elacular-kink]

So, one of my metamours posted this picture in one of my partners' chats.

And 1. It got me. But 2, I immediately imagined Olivia bringing it up to the other girls like a fun fact in casual conversation. And I know how they all react.

Olivia: Did you know there are more hydrogen atoms in a single molecule of water than there are stars in the solar system? Kiran: Y...yes? Of course I did? Maya: Oh shit, how many hydrogens are in there again? Susanna: Really? Is that like the thing where there's more trees than—OH FUCK YOU!

This is one of the many reasons that Susanna's still her favorite.

[mademoisellewol]

Day 21: Case Coded

|| CONTENT WARNING || Day prompt based on a Fandom Artificial Intelligence Hiccups Hints of teasing Presence of an obnoxious character Implications of internal panic Mentions of frustration

The vibrant corridors were at a dim cast of light than the usually well-lit glow that the jester took note of. They have just woken up from a nap. Well, it is more so of deep pondering about their new life and recent events being in a virtual world and with an excruciatingly mad host that is keeping the said "world" meaning new home together. Can life throw any more curveballs whilst its at it?

The jester rubbed their eyes, making their way to the center of the tent they reside in for "forever" it seems like. Until they were unexpectedly teleported to a different area in the tent.

"Gah! Wuh…?" It left them in a slight woozy state. A hand on their head as they process what had happened.

"What just-," then, their words got cut off, when they heard a sudden yell out of nowhere near them.

"OH-****!" The triangle-shaped head hissed sharply at their fall, a frustrated look in their eyes. They turn to see the jester who was confused and felt the need to be concerned and question about what had happened to the both of them.

"What's going on exactly?" The jester asked with concern, their back slouched a bit and eyes seeking for an answer.

The triangle-shaped head slowly stood upright and spoke in a low and annoyed tone after a grunt, "Apparently, HE'S what's going on." they pointed over from afar.

They looked over to the host floating near the stage with a few of the other individuals, seemingly trying to talk about something while also hiding from him. The jester then noticed the host twitched in a jolt action, making the map glitch a bit out of place. Something is going on, alright.

Once the host was gone in a cloud, the jester and triangle-shaped head made their way to the others. A raggedy plush waved over to them, immediately greeting and checking them making sure they are not harshly affected from a current problem at hand.

"Hey, you two! Oh, I'm glad that you're alright." The raggedy plush spoke to the triangle-shaped head with a mellow, heartfelt tone of concern in their voice.

The jester then shot a question, "Has something happened?" They felt the need to ask as they stood their with a weary, yet confuzzled look.

The raggedy plush and a king piece looked at each other, before the place rumbled a quick second, leaving the group in a state of shock but no panic, or perhaps there is, internal-wise. The raggedy plush decided on explaining.

"Well, it's just a minor inconvenience. Don't worry though, he'll be able to fix it as soon as possible. I hope." By he, they mean the host. "But just so you know, do be careful whenever you're around him."

The raggedy plush ended with an advice. It left the jester curious to ask more.

"Why do you say that?" The jester spoke until shifting their head to another voice from the group.

"Because, you will be subject to a different kind of fun." With a sly, shut grin, an obnoxious rabbit stood with their arms crossed.

"Not helping!" The raggedy plush shook their head in disapproval to their reply.

The jester raised a brow before turning their attention to the triangle-shaped head. "He just have a case of the hiccups, technologically-speaking."

"What?" The jester plainly questioned in confusion and curiosity. But mostly confusion.

How does that work and make any sense exactly? And how did it all started? If one were to incorporate artificial intelligence having a case, it would involve something in their system unit like a malfunction in their coding or a foreign anonymity might have breached and entered into their functions.

"He's a bit aware of it, given that the whole tent is affected, not to mention, it might also not end well for us." The raggedy plush told the jester.

"Yeah, like how they were teleported out of nowhere earlier." The obnoxious rabbit spoke and emphasized, a thumb pointing over to the triangle-shaped head who gave a pissed off look at them.

"Wait until it's your turn!" They scowled back at the rabbit.

What has been given resorts to being similar to the natural involuntary action a human normally experience. If an artificial intelligent were to have it, it may or may not differ and stray away from that of a human body.

Precaution is taken in all seriousness for this matter. The jester figured that when the host hitched, it affects the place to change and individuals to teleport to some place different.

But that is only one result, possible there may be more, and the jester along with the others do not want to know half of it.

"As long as we keep our distance from him, I think we'll be okay." The raggedy plush tried to offer some reassurance to them all.

Suddenly, the tent shook side to side, a quick change of the place made the group hide anywhere that is safe, not wanting to deal with this nonsense.

The jester slightly hyperventilated as they hid, a hand on their chest to calm themselves down. Most of them, then, checked the place with hesitation once the shaking subsided.

"Is everyone alright?" The raggedy plush asked, the others nodding and showing themselves.

"Are you good over there?" Then they asked the king piece who gave a thumbs up in return.

Until another rumble shook the tent. The items and blocks floated shifting in places.

One of the items affected was the king piece's pillow fortress, which they took notice immediately and screamed, "AAH!" concerned for their safe pillow igloo that has disappeared.

Another rumble rose, it made the place shake and shift randomly. That case of his sure is active. Unfortunately, it teleported Ribbons and Triangle-shaped head to the stage rather than the floor.

"Oh my goodness!" The raggedy plush called out to them, checking and making sure if they were fine.

"We're okay…" Ribbons spoke with a wince at their fall.

The obnoxious rabbit chuckled. "That fall was comical, Ribbons! Do it again." Their grin grew in amusement. How could they find humor to that mishap?

With the third wave though, the obnoxious rabbit fell in a black hole that opened underneath them, sending them to fall on top of a floating block. They grunted, face planted on the cube. The two who were at the stage watched it happened, looking at each other.

"Eh, serves them right." The triangle-shaped head commented with no regret.

"Guh! When will this be over?" The obnoxious rabbit spoke in frustration and attitude as they sat on the edge of the floating block with their arms crossed, not happy about this inconvenience.

"We'll just have to wait!" The raggedy plush replied in return, ignoring the murmuring of irritation from the rabbit.

A few more of the earthquakes and changing of the map, it was in a rapid succession. The group figured that it must be quite a stubborn case the host has. They were all completely done with this. The group just want it to be over already. And if that thought was going to happen sooner than later, the host just had to add up to the internal panic and longing of rest as he made his presence known with the group after a long while. In a rushed and iconic host tone, they spoke with the accompanied sounds of the case that is somewhat similar to a human's sounds.

"Hello! my HUCK!-lucky stars-" The host exclaimed with glee.

They all called him out of his name in unison. Then the rabbit spoke. Their voice echoed faintly from above, still stuck on the same floating block.

"Uuugh! No luck with that? Could you please hurry it up! I've been up here for ages!" The rabbit dragged their groan, complaining as they looked down at the host.

"My-my, you should've called me!" The host snapped their fingers to return the way things are back to normal.

But they let out another hitch again, snapping their fingers once more. It happened again and again, until is was a quick cycle.

They all called out to the host again, making him stop in his tracks as he realized his distracted-self. He spoke. "Oh, my bad! HIRK!-RR'Rrr!" It comes out in a fuzzy static.

The tent shook with intensity, glitching a bit, now that the one with the case was at close proximity.

"UH! Do you have something to tell us?! The raggedy plush called out as they hid behind a couch.

The host looked at them. Not them thinking about it, floating mid-air for a few moments on why they were there instead of managing to resolve his case.

The host's eyes shifted to walled, a bright tone on their voice as they held their finger up.

"Ah-ha! Yes, of course. Now I remember why I'm here!" He said with a delightful tone. They all looked at him, anticipating provision of some good news about this matter.

"I still have them." The host said in a defeated and nonchalant tone, back slouching and hands fall to the side.

The group groaned in unison at the end, thinking that this particular episode is accompanied with a case and its about to go crazy or rather, it had already been crazy. It will be quite a long day as the group hid and scattered. This adventure was uncalled for.

[mr-business-whump]

Day 21: Stalked

Sometimes, Hiccup felt like he was being watched.

He wasn't, he couldn't be.... but when he'd see a flash of light as he walked at night sometimes, when he saw a flash of red hair disappearing behind something every time he turned around, the way he'd get letters in his mailbox with no stamps, no address, just his name with all sorts of horrible, obsessive things said about him... it made him wonder what exactly was going on.

read it here!

[headfullof-ideas]

I am…curious.

Whilst planning the finer details of the timeline of this very long story (RTTE has, like, nine seasons at the moment) I had a thought, due to some oc’s I’ve thought of, or have developed for other stuff.

I’m already thinking and loosely planning on doing so, but how would people feel about an epilogue at the end of the story revealing the next generation of dragon riders? And a potential spin-off/sequel of their shenanigans?

[evilwriter37]

Rated: mature

Warnings: non-consensual touching, broken bones

Relationships: Hiccup/the Dragon Riders, Viggo/Hiccup

Word Count: 1,373

Summary: Viggo discovers a bitemark on Hiccup while he has him captured, and decides to search him for more while trying to figure out just who gave them to him.

A/N: For @ashleybenlove, who has a real knack for giving me ideas!

[hiccanna-tidbits]

Saving for the next time I write Hiccup!

Navigation: Helpful Posts - specific disabilities

[large text: Navigation: Helpful Posts - specific disabilities]

This is the long-awaited sequel to the first post that unfortunately hit the link limit. This part will focus on posts for specific disabilities, while the general topics will stay in the original post. If you can't find any posts on the disability you're looking for, please check out the "Other" section in the first post.

This list will of course continue to be updated.

Last update: 15/06/2024

Amputation/Limb Difference

[large text: Amputation/Limb Difference]

Constructing Characters with Limb Differences: Discussing Fetishization Do Amputees Always Wear Prosthetics? Does a Character with Amputation Need a Prosthetic? Does a Character with Upper Limb Amputation Need a Prosthetic? Designing a Prosthetic Arm Making a Character with Upper Limb Amputation Genius Amputee Mechanic: Discussing the DIY Prosthetic Trope Causes of Amputation Limb Differences as a Spectrum

Blind Characters

[large text: Blind Characters]

Making a Blind Character: what to add, what to avoid Designing a Blind Character: Discussing the Eye Covering Trope What to Give Your Blind Character Blindness Tropes: Daredevil, milky eyes, and blindness-negating magic The Blind Prophet Trope Guide Animals: Dogs, Horses, and Their Fictional Equivalents Blind Characters with Superpowers Echolocation and Sound Powers Yeah Another One about Superpowers Portraying Photophobia in Pre-modern Times Characters with Albinism Fetishization of Albinism Going Blind from an Accident Writing Characters with One Eye More on Monocular Vision Writing a Blind Kitty (+possible accommodations)

Deaf and Hard of Hearing (HoH) Characters

[large text: Deaf and Hard of Hearing (HoH) Characters]

Creating Deaf/HoH Characters Writing D/deaf/HoH Characters Another Guide on Writing D/deaf Characters Tips on Writing Deaf Characters Visual Indicators of a Person being Deaf Tips on Writing about Hearing Aids Deaf Character Unable to Sign Sign Language with Limb Difference Writing Out Sign Language (+book recommendations)

DeafBlind Characters

[large text: DeafBlind Characters]

How DeafBlind People Learn Language DeafBlind Character not Wanting to be Blind On Access and Protactile [not writing advice, just a piece of great writing; greatly recommended if you know nothing about DeafBlindness]

Facial Difference (FD)

[large text: Facial Difference (FD)]

Introduction to Facial Difference: basics, tropes, what I want to see Constructing a Character with an FD: Discussing Disfiguremisia and the "Mask Trope" Does My Character Need a Prosthetic Eye?: alternatives What Would Happen to A Character with a Scar Through the Eye? What Would Happen to a Character with a Burn on the Eye? How Scars Affect the Character, and How the Character Affects the Scar (in the technical sense) Should your Character with Scars Hate their Scars? Including Characters with Treacher Collins Syndrome in a pre-Surgical Setting Basic Information on Vitiligo Harmful Vitiligo Tropes/Stereotypes Animalistic Characters with Vitiligo Stigmatization of Strabismus in Visual Media How to be Normal about the Real Life Equivalents of your OC with a Scar Over His Eye

Intellectual Disability

[large text: Intellectual Disability]

Introduction to Writing Intellectually Disabled Characters: basics, tropes, how it actually works Down Syndrome and Historical Fiction Combat and Disability: intellectually disabled characters Basic Tips for Writing Characters with Down Syndrome

[getouyuri]

currently obsessed w suguru (bawled 2 my own writing twice 2day....) i neeeeeeeeeeed ideas 2 write 4 him

when are we not obsessed with him </3 it’s rough out here for u and me and the rest of suguru nation

he’s such an interesting and complex and lovable character that every idea regarding him automatically hooks me fuckkthabwksja he’s got me by the nonexistent balls… and lawdddd if u need ideas for him I’m still combing thru my list of ideas and shelving the ideas i know I won’t write 😭 I’d be happy to push some ur way…

[nezuscribe]

𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

summary: once childhood friends with the crown prince, you find yourself in a troubled situation when he calls for you to help him around with his daily duties as the king to be. he seems to have forgotten everything, forgotten who you even were. but as the palace's most loyal servant there's only so many things that you can tolerate, including the prince.

warnings: 18+ mdni, slight angst misunderstandings and just not talking shit out, minor panic attack/overall anxiety (with comfort), eating out (fem! receiving), fingering, gojo is a certified munch

word count: 14.1k (sorry)

note: i can only write gojo in a royal setting now so that’s that. i really liked writing this fic so comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

jjk masterlist

it all started with that night.

when the air was biting, cold and harsh. the moon offered so little of her light as you ran across the open foyer, feeling your tear stained cheeks more than you had back in the ballroom as you could barely feel your heartbeat, not stopping until you were out of the grand double doors, running as fast as you could through the gardens until you were sure everything and everybody was far behind you. 

you continued for a little more, finding yourself at the foot of the rose gardens, your chest heaving up and down, sweat dotting your forehead. you were sure the rouge that you had so carefully dotted onto yourself was ruined now, but that was the least of your worries. 

you place a hand on your chest, catching your breath, looking behind you to make sure that nobody had followed you outside. most nights, such as ones like this, you enjoyed the freckles of stars above you, but now, all that filled your mind were the events of moments ago. 

the staring, the judgment. 

“is everything all right?” 

your head snaps around, your eyes wide in shock as you find a man standing behind you, a careful feet away so as to not startle you even more than he already had. you couldn't make out his face in the darkness, but with your blurry vision, you doubt you could make out your own reflection.

you nod feverishly, trying for a smile that was shaking and quivering as you turn away for a second, patting your cheeks dry as you try out for a weak laugh. 

“yes, t-thank you,” your voice cracks, your lips trembling and your breathing heavy. your uniform and apron was sticking tightly to your skin and everything seemed as if it was tilted on an axis. you felt like the world was spinning in the opposite direction, and had it not been for the strong  hands behind you that steadied you upwards, you were sure you would’ve fallen down. 

“miss, are you sure everythings alright? surely i can call for a-” the man stops when you shake your head quickly, just realizing how much trouble you were going to be in if your superior ever saw you missing from your post. 

“no, thank you, i, i have to go,” you try to stand up again but stumble, grateful that he still had a steady hand on your elbow, “i apologize, i don’t know why i’m so dizzy.” you say, holding your head in your hands, trying to ease your temple with the thumping it was doing. 

“would it perhaps be because you ran through the entire courtyard in a matter of seconds?” his voice is low yet teasing, and you should be embarrassed and mortified that somebody saw you, but you feel beside yourself tonight and laugh, nodding along.

“perhaps,” there’s a small smile on your face, but the gentleman chuckles along, helping you stand comfortably, making sure you didn’t need him until he was absolutely sure you wouldn’t topple over. 

“are you not enjoying the festivities?” he remains a good distance away from you, though you’re glad he’s given you some space. 

you swallow thickly, rubbing at your eyes and cheeks to rid them of the tears but they just seem to be non-stop. 

“the festivities aren’t the problem,” you sniffle, hiccuping as you laugh wetly, “i just seem to be too sensitive for the likes of them.” you say the last word with some weight.

you thought that after all these years, after all the times you proved you’re more than your lineage, somebody always manages to bring it up. 

he doesn’t say anything for a couple of seconds, the only sound that you can hear is your shuddered breathing. 

“take in a deep breath,” his words are soft, but your head snaps up, confused. 

“it’s a breathing exercise,” he explains further, gently, “one in, one out,” he places a sturdy hand on your back, one that was too close for if a chaperon were to ever see you in such a compromising position you would be ruined, “we’ll do it together, i’ll count.”

your eyes are squeezed shut, but you mimic your breathing to his rhythmic breathes, your mouth open as small puffs of air fill your collapsing lungs. it takes a while for this sort of breathing pattern to take effect, but it helps you to calm down a bit. your nerves are still erratic, but it’s better than before. 

“there you go,” his voice is soothing, calming, something you’ve never heard before, something you’ve never known you’ve needed.

there’s a few beats of silence, your eyes squeezed shut until you finally open them again to get a good look of who this stranger was. 

“i have to thank you…” you trail off, your breath catching harshly in your throat when you're met with those familiar eyes, the same ones you see in the paintings you are set to clean each and every day, the same ones that look at yo with childish joy when he used to chase you around the courtyard when you were children. the infamous white hair, a tale telling of his lineage, and the countless medallions on his suit.

you don’t know what to do, and you take a tentative step back. all the feelings of fear, of embarrassment, of dread coming rushing back, but ten times worse. 

“sato…y-your highness, i,” you stagger backwards, “i…” you’re at a loss for words, your breaths coming out erratic again. 

he reaches his hand out for you to take again, his brows furrowed in confusion with you sudden change of emotions, growing into even more confusion when he gets a better look at you, memories rushing back at the strange familiarity of your face, but you don’t know as you scrunch your uniform between your fingers, muttering some unintelligible words under your breath as you bow hurriedly, brushing past him as you speedily make your way back to the palace, breaking about every protocol you have been taught since your first day there,

blissfully unaware of just how much your life was about to change.

—

the life of a palace maid is a bustling one, full of daily duties that fill your time from the moment you wake up to the moment you put your head down to rest. dusting the staircases, making sure the royal portraits are in tip-top shape, and, of course, tending to any of the needs the royals themselves need. 

you were lucky in your position, not too close to the top where any slight mess up could be your undoing, but far up where you could enjoy the more tedious and rewarding of tasks that others, such as the kitchen workers or the stables servants, may not have the luxury of having. you count your lucky stars every day that you’re not stuck cleaning fru-fru’s (the king's prized horse) droppings. 

“there really are no breaks,” lydia muttered under her breath, folding the freshly cleaned linen sheets as you gave her a look from under your lashes, warning her to be careful with her words, never too sure of how alone you two could be, “what? it’s just the truth.” 

you snort, not disagreeing with her because it was the truth. there had been royal balls upon endless balls, countless gala’s and feasts for the past couple of months. the prince was finally rumored ready to take on a wife, and all the eligible bachelors and their mamas have flocked to the scene, ready to become part of the gojo family. 

the last one had been all but two weeks ago, the same one where…you couldn’t think of it too much, glad that nobody else was there to witness your trivial breakdown. all except the prince, of course, but you hadn’t been beheaded yet so you never mentioned it to anybody. 

but, despite the last social gathering being so recent, another one was about to take place in a week. everybody could feel their hands splitting raw at the thought of cleaning the palace once again, but it was all in a day's work. 

“though i must say, you always seem to find a way to entertain yourself through all these surely grueling events,” you tease, a knowing look in your eyes as an unmistakable blush takes over her cheeks. 

“well!” she exclaimed, laughing under her breath as she fanned herself with her gloved hand, picking up another sheet to fold, “if a young man displayed his notable affections towards me, i would only be mad not to entertain them.” 

“you’re such a flirt,” you giggle, careful to keep your voices quiet so that nobody would come and break the two of you up. you were fortunate enough to spend most of your time with your closest friend, but if anybody ever got a whiff of just how much the two of you enjoyed folding bed sheets or tidying up the king's study. 

“there have been countless events, and yet, there is no wife,” she says this more as a statement rather than anything, “do you think it’s because the prince is cruel?” 

she was right about this, too. it was more often than not when lydia was wrong.

it had been a couple months of trying to set the prince up with his rightful match. women from corners of the earth, places you’ve never heard of, have found their ways to these balls and galas. of course, the palace did all they could to quell the rumors on why it was taking their beloved prince so long to find a wife, and yet, they could do so much. the rumors were beginning to grow, and none in his favor.

you laugh uncomfortably, hoping that nobody could hear the two of you in this closet. 

“the prince? cruel?” you shrug, feigning indifference. 

he wasn't cruel when you met him. 

and he never was crue all those years agol, or at least from what you could recall. 

because before there was lydia, there was satoru. 

so many years ago, you and the prince were childhood friends. he somehow introduced himself one of the days you were cleaning the castle, your uniform still so large seeing how it was made for a teenager and you were yet to reach six, so you were swallowed by it. but he didn't seem to care much about who you were, rather the fact that he was able to find somebody around his age, happy to have a friend that didn’t have to practice fencing with. 

the two of you were close, as close as a prince and a young maid can get. 

you never had a semblance of a normal childhood, but for those few years that you had known him, he offered you some normality that you would've never expected from the crown prince. at nights, when the two of you would meet up in a spare closet, he’d unravel a satchel full of bread and sweets, things he had stolen from his dinner table, knowing that your meals were often far smaller than his. 

he didn’t seem to forget you, even as he grew in his adolescence. he’d still find you wherever you were, a bright smile on his face as you gave yourself a quick break, running around the gardens with him as you squealed, trying not to get caught by him as he tried to push you down into the river nearby. 

but, you tended to be more level-headed than him, and easily foresaw the day that came when his advisors found out he had been befriending the servant girl, more specifically the daughter of the town courtesan, and before you knew it, you had been swept away, promised to never mingle with him again. they couldn’t strip you bare of your position at the palace, knowing that you worked for far less than others asked for and longer than most did, but they changed your place, your rooms, and you barely saw him again. he soon forgot, and you counted yourself lucky that you were still able to have a memory to latch on to. 

“or perhaps he’s unlikely to even take a wife. he may prefer his time spent with multiple women, if you get what i mean,” she continues, your thought coming back into focus as you suddenly realize what she just said, swatting her with one of the towels while saying such an unbecoming thing about her prince. 

“or maybe he’s taking his time,” you give her a pointed look for being so crass, “he might be holding out for a love match.” you say, your gaze focused on your nimble fingers as you fold the sheets as if it were second nature, your body moving faster than your mind was. 

she snorts, rolling her eyes at your romantics. 

“you can’t-” she goes to say something but is crudely cut off by the doors behind the two of you swinging open. 

your necks snap around as you are instant to stand, bowing deeply to whoever it is that walks in, looking up only after a brief pause. 

a part of you tenses upon seeing the housekeeper, miss lottie, entering in. her graying hairs were pulled back in a tight bun, the uniform that all the maids wore ironed to perfection. though she may not be as in her youth as she once was, her face was void of wrinkles, a feat, considering her position. 

two men who you had never seen before walking in behind her, standing on either side as she motions for the both of you to introduce yourselves. lydia bows once again, saying her name, and you do the same. 

“these are the last of my girls, gentlemen,” she starts with a sigh, massaging her temple, missing the confused look you and lydia shared as she offered no explanation for what was happening, “these are the only other maids in my department that wear this uniform.” 

the two guards look at you and lydia top and down, their eyes racking over your features, your postures, your faces. you felt sweat prickling at the back of your neck, your hands growing clammy as your mouth dried. 

surely, it can’t be.

“her,” one of the guards raised his gloved hand to you. 

“her?” lydia cries out loud, earning a disapproving look from miss lottie, but the old woman seems to be just as confused as you and lydia. 

“come with us,” the other one says, opening the door further, not seeming to care about your stupified state as you grip onto lydia’s wrist as tightly as you could.

you couldn’t speak, couldn't breath. you felt like you did that night, the same dreadful feeling that filled your veins and your lungs, keeping you from taking in the air you so desperately needed. 

“gentlemen,” lydia takes a step forward, trying to shield you with her body, “i’m sure whatever it is you’re after, she,” she points her head over to you, “is certainly not it.”

this is it, you tell yourself, they’ve finally tracked you down. 

the two guards don’t pay her any mind, don’t even address nor speak to her as they push her aside, wrenching your hands away from her as they try to move you forward, trying to move you away. 

“miss lydia, please,” miss lottie almost seems to beg, has her brows furrowed in puzzlement as to what was happening, her mouth agape as she watches them take you away. 

you feel your mind go hazy, your vision turning blurry as you dumbly follow the guards out of the room, the muted shouts of your friends growing softer and softer behind you as you walk through the halls you[‘ve been walking through for nearly your entire life, 

not knowing if it would be your last. 

—

the three of you walk for a while, and it doesn't help that nauseous and sinking feeling that you have growing in the pit of your stomach. your eyes darted around, your cheeks heating up in an uncomfortable flush when you caught the glances the others servants and maids gave, the way they began instantly whispering behind their gloved hands or one another as to what could be happening. 

you quickly looked down, watching your steps. if you weren't ruined after whatever this was, the gossip that was to circulate about you surely would.

they lead you up a spiral staircase, through the east wing, and after some time, the walls and the floors begin to grow unfamiliar to you. these are the places that even you weren’t authorized to clean, places that only the most trusted and known people were allowed to be. 

you peek around through the corners of your eyes, trying to take it all in one last time. there is more gold encrusted into the painting, the wall decorum, the ceiling. it’s more grand than you even thought the palace could be, and had it not been for your doomed fate, you would’ve tried to savor it more. 

the guards in front of you suddenly stop in front of a door, and you almost bump into one of them had you not stopped yourself milliseconds before. 

one of the guards raised his fist, knocking once, letting his hands fall behind his back. 

you wait with baited breath until you hear a muffled, “come in,” from behind the door, and the other guard turns the knob, the door swinging wide open. 

the two men come in before you do, their bodies hiding the view. you stay outside, your hands shaking, waiting until further instruction. 

the guards are speaking to the person inside, their voice mixing with each other in your muddled head, and you feel your eyes begin to wet. all of your hard work, all the sacrifices you’ve made along the way, every sleepless night devoted to securing your rank and your future were now going up in flames. 

“why didn’t you tell her to come in?” the first voice grows a little louder, “come in, miss,” he calls out, and you take in a deep, shaky breath. 

you take a slow, tentative step inside, and then another one. your feet pad in quietly, your head ducked down in respect but also because you couldn't have these people seeing you like this, it was mortifying as it was. 

you bow, knowing that you were in the presence of royalty from just the atmosphere of the room alone. you go down as low as you can, almost kissing the floor with your nose. 

“you men can go now,” the voice, an all too familiar one, says. 

you hear their heavy footsteps behind you, the door shutting with a thud. 

“you can stand,” the prince says, his voice less loud and commanding. 

you slowly rise, still keeping your head down, your eyes meeting a desk, some papers, and when you finally look up, the prince. 

his smile quickly drops when he sees your face, quickly moving away from his seat as he rounds the table, making his way over to you as you quickly wipe away at your tears. it was breaking your etiquette protocol for how you were to act if you were to ever come face to face with royalty, but you don’t see any point in acting in such a way when this is somehow quite similar to your first encounter. 

“are you hurt?” he quickly asks, standing a foot away from you, his eyes darting around your body as you quickly shake your head, sniffing as you stand as perfectly still as you could. 

“were my guards rough with you?” he looks behind himself at the door, “i will have a word with them immediately-” 

but you shake your head again, swallowing thickly as you dip your head down once, going to speak. 

“it was not the guards, your highness,” you feel like time is stopping as he stares intently at you, “i just have an apathy for being too emotional at times.” you try to joke, but with the way your heart was beating so loudly and erratically, it drowned out any humor you may have been trying for. 

“is it perhaps because you’ve been called to the prince's study with no reason or explanation?” he jokes, his eyes look at you from beneath his long lashes and you laugh wetly.

“perhaps,” you accept the handkerchief he gives you with a small thank you.

you wipe at your tears, quickly composing yourself with taking a couple of more steady breaths, and you were glad that the prince was at least giving you this time to look a little more presentable until he sentenced you to your punishment. 

“right, well,” he claps his hands together, a small smile on his face as he inches backwards until he’s able to sit on his desk, not caring for the slue of papers underneath, “i’m glad i was finally able to find you.”

find you?

you don’t say anything, your eyes taking him in for the first time, and for the first time, the rumors were correct. 

he was positively gorgeous. 

the veil of night hid a lot of his features, leaving only the more pronounced things for you to see. not only that, but you had been sworn to keep away from him, the last time you were really able to see him was years ago. 

but now, illuminated under the light from the large windows to the side of him, you can see him as clearly as you possibly could. his eyes were striking and stark, a blue that you could only get if you looked at the sea and saw all the colors mixing around together. his lips were plump and pink. his jaw was sturdy, but that could’ve been said along with the rest of his body, no longer looking like the lanky little boy that you were used to envisioning. though he donned a simple white button up, the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, showing just how strong he was. everything about him exuded radiance, the spectacularity that only comes with being the crown prince. 

you try to focus yourself again, and try not to melt under the way he noticed you staring too hard, his smile turning into something far more teasing.

he wets his lips, sitting up a little bit straight, pushing himself off the table just a bit so that he could be closer to you. 

“my name is satoru,” he extends his hand outward, and you stare at it. 

oh, a part of you sinks, he doesn't remember you.

“shake, please” he says as if reading your mind, “my hand isn’t infected with a fungal disease if that’s what you’re worried about.” 

you quickly nod, feeling sheepish as your hands slowly raise from where they were resting on your crumpled apron, fingers gently and barely there as they glide against his palm until your hand is enclosed in his, fingers curling around his as you shake. 

his palm is soft, unlike yours which had grown rough and riddles with scratches and cuts from over the years. he shakes firmly yet gently, not too harsh unlike the other men whose hands you’ve shaken before, making it somewhat a point to not only bruise your skin but to show off their strength as you look at them with a sneer. 

you don’t let go until he does, not wanting to seem rude or improper, and your hands quickly fall back down to your sides. you’re aware of the stains of food and dirt on your white apron, the way it is held together through stitches and intricate sewing. it’s a stark difference to what he’s wearing, even if simple, but the quiet opulence is what differentiates the two of you so easily. 

he waits patiently and you suddenly realize that he’s waiting for your name. you said it quickly, your eyes darting to him as you bow your head again.

“as i said,” he continued, his head turning as he looked out the window, taking in the scenery, “i have been trying my best to find you ever since, well, i’m sure you remember.”

“i was told by…miss marla scott, is it?” he asks, and you nod, miss lottie, “that you are one of, if not, her best girls.”

you nod again, not knowing what to do. he was going on about this as if all those years ago were a figment of your imagination, as if your childhoods weren’t linked together the way you recall them being. that could be for the best though, seeing how you could be in trouble if anyone were to remember. 

“i’ve recently had to do away with some of my valets, they didn’t meet my expectations.” he scratches his jaw, looking back at you, his eyes simmering as you look at him from beneath your lashes. 

“i would like for you to be my maid.” he finally said, his fingers playing with the ring on his middle finger, twisting it back and forth as it caught and reflected the sunlight. 

there’s a beat of silence, a moment in which the two of you just look at each other. 

you almost laughed in shock, your brows shooting upwards in surprise, hands interlinking themselves as they rested on your queasy stomach. 

“p-pardon,” you swallow dryly, “pardon me?” 

he waves it off, his eyes playful, obviously understanding that you weren’t expecting this and he runs a hand through his arctic hair. you intently watch his every movement, waiting for him to burst out into laughter and to say that this was all one big joke, one meant to set you up into a trap. 

“you’d have to make my bed every day, make sure my room is clean. my office,” he motions to the room around the two of you, “as well. anywhere i am, you are. i’m not a particularly messy person, but i like the assurance a maid provides.”

“your highness,” you breathe deeply through your nose, a puff of air coming out as you smile shortly, “i am more than honored, but i’m not sure i’ve been trained the way a personal maid has been trained. i would hate to disappoint you,” you chose your words carefully, but he waves it all off with his gloved hand.

“you will be taught. after all, you are the best, are you not?” his eyes crease around the edges, waiting for you to simply nod once again, and you do, slowly. 

“but, your highness, i…” you trail off, failing silent and running out of words as you find yourself sputtering under his gaze. you’re usually one who’s easily composed, your back straight and shoulders pressed backwards, but you feel it all slipping away. 

“why me? i surely couldn’t have made a favorable impression the first time we met, your highness.”

he looks at you for a moment, brief, fleeting. 

“you’re human, it happens,” he simply says, his eyes flickering a different shade, “my mother always tells me that we forget to exhaust the capabilities that connect us together,” he rubs in between his brows, soothing the crease, not going any further into his explanation when he looks up at you, his smile debonair, “now, do you accept?”

you suck in a breath. 

one nod. 

yes. 

—-

you were quickly swept away from your normal routine of things to become the princes maid, something that you could barely even get out once lydia was able to ask you about what had happened. you can remember the looks you received after walking to your new quarters, a private room for the first time in your life, by the people who judged you the first time around, feeling a little victorious with your single back packed with the three changes of clothes you owned. 

you spent days going over what was to be expected of you, and it all felt like it was a joke. 

it was too simple, too easy of a job with an even simpler explanation from the prince as to why you were even here. 

“his highness wakes up early, so you will need to be up before he is,” one of the ladies who was briskly walking around the princes caves explained rapidly, “and his nighttime schedule is, well, hectic, which means you will have to be with him until he goes to sleep.”

you blink, trying to get that all in as you take mental notes of everything you are being taught. 

“and during the day? where should i be?”

she looked up at you as if you were an idiot, as if that was the most obvious question you could’ve asked. 

“by his side, of course, you are to ensure his highness is always comfortable. your role is beyond making his bed or simply cleaning up after him. it’s making sure that our prince is at ease when he is to one day become our king.”

you never thought you would be standing behind the door of the prince's chambers, waiting for him to wake up, but your life always seemed to have a different plan waiting for you than what you’d expect. 

it’s better than you’d expect it to have been, too. at first, it was difficult getting used to the prince and his way of doing things. he would act rash sometimes, acting without thinking of the consequences. he was playful, he loved laughing. there were times when you’d be standing a good distance away from him when he’d be having dinner with families of women who were there to marry him, diplomats that talked just to bore it would seem, and you’d catch his wandering eye, suppressing a smile that seemed to quirk up on his face as well. 

it wasn’t long before you found yourself speaking more freely around him, keeping some of the pleasantries, but regarding him more as a friend, just as you would with lydia. 

he would often spend hours away in his study just talking, telling you about his daily outings and the struggles he was having with finding a wife. whenever you offered your thoughts or opinions he listened thoughtfully, his gaze heavy and caring.

though he may not have remembered your ancient friendship, you did, and an old part of you feels like it’s coming back after all those years. the naive part that was just happy to have a person to talk to, somebody that wouldn’t look at you in disgust or pity. 

but you bring your focus back to now, listening intently, waiting to hear the bed sheets ruffle and the floorboards to creak as he makes his way out of his bed. 

after a couple of weeks of doing this you’ve become somewhat familiar with the prince's way of doing things, and just as you thought he was going to sleep in, you hear the bedsheets ruffle with movement. 

“your highness?” you call quietly, “may i come in?”

there’s a loud yawn, something unintelligible, and then you hear the go ahead for you to go. 

you slowly open the door, making sure not to be loud as you bow politely, closing the door before you as you set the tray of cold water and fruits down on the nightstand near his bed. 

the prince prefers to eat something before he breaks his fast in front of his family and the watchful eyes of the palace, enjoying these small moments he has with himself. 

“good morning your highness,” you greet, lighting the candle as you look behind your shoulder to see the prince groggily running at his eyes, yawning once again as he waves tiredly to you. 

why he chooses to wake up before the sun is even in the sky is beyond you, but you would be mad to question the choices of the prince. unfortunately, he seems to be waking up even earlier than the times you were told, so every morning you find yourself getting up at the crack of dawn to make sure you’re up before he is. 

“did you sleep well?” you walk around the bed, setting down some fresh sheets and clothes for him to pick out, opening the curtains as you watch the sun just barely peek out from the horizon. 

“well enough,” his voice is deep, filled with sleep, and you're glad your back is momentarily turned so that he couldn’t see the way a smile threatened to poke its way on your face. 

“i’m glad to hear,” you turn around, catching him briefly taking a swing of water, savoring its coolness, and you try not to look too long at the droplets that roll down his chin, splattering on his thigh, “would you like me to go through your events set for the day?” 

he glances at you from over his cup, blinking as he wordlessly tells you to continue. 

“today, you are to meet with the king's advisors after you break your fast, but i doubt they should take too long. at noon, you have a lunch meeting set with the lady dower and her daughter,” you quote from memory, “and afterwards we are to swiftly get you ready for tonight's ball.” 

he groans loudly, opposing this, and you smirk, your eyes trained on him as he sets his water down, sniffing as he stands up, stretching his arms above his head. you feel like a fiend, with the way you quickly avert your gaze from his toned stomach, the happy trail of hair that leads…

your eyes shoot up at him, glad that his were still screwed shut, another yawn escaping his lips as he leans his head side to side, cracking his neck.

“i’ve already met with the lady dower,” he almost whines, his nose wrinkling at the thought, “what do they want this time?” 

“a ring, probably,” you mutter under your breath, but he hears, a chuckle falling past his lips as he nods along, tsking as he shrugs. he obviously doesn’t want the dower girl to be his wife, and you could only feel sorry for how tense the meetings going to be. 

he picks up a cube of melon, popping it in his mouth, humming at the sweet taste. he offers the bowl to you, just as he’s always done, but you politely decline, just as you’ve always done. you may have become friendly with the prince, but there is still some semblance of protocol that you’ll force yourself to follow. 

“is this chocolate?” he pipes up, looking at the tray a bit more closely, holding up the little sweet to the light. 

“you’ve mentioned how much you like them, and the kitchen has been making a plethora of them for the ball, so i thought i should snag you some before they're all gone.” you explain, and he turns it around, shooting you a thankful, genuine smile. he sets it down, most likely saving it until the very last moment.

“will you be there? tonight?” he asks, filling up his glass with water once again. 

“not down there with you, your highness-” 

“how many times have i told you to drop the titles?” he chides playfully, cutting you off as you sigh deeply through your nose. you’re terrified of calling him by his name too many times in private, and slipping up in public, knowing just how bad it would turn out for you if that were to happen. 

“not down there with you, gojo,” you say his last name with extra weight, just a little bit of sass, and he rolls his eyes, “i am to help out elsewhere.” 

he nods in understanding. 

“could you be down there?” he picks up a piece of watermelon, fashioned into a sphere, eating it as you sputter, brows furrowing in slight confusion as you open your mouth, shut it, and then open it again to speak. 

“unless i am serving, i would not be allowed,” you explain, following behind him as he moves away from the bed, quickly making the messed up sheets as he makes room for you. you’re supposed to wait until he’s out of the room, but in your growing friendship with the prince, you find it amusing the way he flutters away. 

he makes a small sound in the back of his throat, and you look behind your shoulder to see him deep in thought. 

“i’ll find a way.” 

“what-” 

“i’ll see you later,” he exits his room, shutting himself in his bathroom as the other servants are their, waiting with his bath drawn, leaving you there to gape in silence. 

—-

gojo somehow stuck to his word, finding a way for you to be near him by the time the ball arrived. 

you felt overwhelmed, your senses were going hardwire at the sheer size of everything. it was one thing to be part of setting up the decorations, or to view it from afar behind a pillar, but to be part of it was something totally different. 

there had been a couple balls since you first started your new position, but this happened to be the first one that you had gotten clearance for. of course, you weren’t a part of the crowd, hidden somewhere in the midst of servants and servers, but you were nearer than you’ve ever been. 

they even dress you up in more fashionable servant clothes, knowing that if you were to wear your tattered uniform it would easily give it away that you weren’t one of them. you didn’t have a job for the evening other than to make sure that the prince was comfortable, so you tried everything you could not to let him out of your sight. 

you found yourself searching for lydia in the crowd, but she had told you that she’d be in the kitchens, having to help out with the food they’d be sending out, and so you doubted you would be able to catch a glimpse of her amongst all the chaos that is hidden to their eyes. 

the prince, despite your best efforts, kept getting drowned in by the sea of people and ball gowns. every time he twirled a girl around for a dance he was hidden by a wave of colorful fabrics, and you’d have to squint to see his white hair peeking out.

you tapped your fingers on the railing you were leaning against, trying to soak it all in while you had the chance. you had heard of the royal balls and just how extravagant they truly could be, but you never thought you’d have the chance to see one in its entirety. 

“i don’t believe we’ve met,” 

your head snaps to your left, eyes widening in surprise at the stranger that had somehow slithered their way next to you without noticing.

“i apologize, i didn't mean to scare you,” the man says with an apologetic laugh. you huff out a small sound, shaking your head as you bow your body a little bit, watching as he bows his head in turn.

“no apology necessary, uh, mister…?” you pause, realizing that you actually haven’t even seen his face before, let alone heard of his name.

“fushiguro,” he finishes for you, the scar on his lip quirking upwards as he settles himself on teh railing, looking down at the scene below you as he shoots you a small look, “but i’d prefer it if you’d call me toji.”

you duck your head down, smiling as you repeat your name, feeling heat pricks at the back of your neck. he’s certainly handsome, and most likely higher ranked in title with the expensive material he fills out well. 

you’ve seen him around, most likely from afar. his face is familiar, and you’re sure that he’s had to have at least another one of these balls considering the fact that he’s given up mixing with the ton. 

he surely has to note that what you’re wearing is on par with what the other servants and maids are, but he doesn't choose to comment.

“i’ve started a little bet with myself,” he says, his voice deep and gruff. you take a second to look him over thoroughly, noting the way his hair is messy and looks undone, black as the night. his eyes shimmer green, but turn more olive toned in the light, and he has a smile exudes an air of confidence, “would you like you partake in it?”

you smile, looking at him from the side. 

“i thought they taught you better manners than to introduce yourself with a bet when you first meet a lady.” 

he chuckles, shrugging his shoulders as his eyes glint. 

“thought i already told you my name?” he’s smooth with it, and you’re not used to this. 

you don’t say anything for a second, your chest moving as you take in a necessary gulp of air. you normally try not to think too much in gojo’s flirtatious personality, because he seems to be like that with everybody he’s ever met. but this is new. 

“see,” he leans in, your arms touching as you both lean a bit over the railing, and he’s lower this voice to a whisper so that nobody else can hear, “i bet that our little prince is setting his eyes on the young lady in the red dress, but i also bet that he may be mulling over the one in the green shawl.” his fingers slyly point to the two of them, and you crane your neck a bit, standing on your toes as you try to get a better look. the man, toji, isn’t incorrect in his observations. gojo has danced with miss corden almost three times at this point, and another two with miss ahura, but you remember that he only favored these two more because they tended not to step on his shoes when dancing. you suppress your smile, choosing to indulge him in his little bet.  

“i say miss ahura has a better chance,” you say and he watches as gojo twirls her around on the dance floor, “her family is far more affluent and i hear that she has riches beyond comprehension in persia.” 

“are you saying our prince is covetous? the sacrilege,” his voice is full of mirth and you hide your little giggle behind a gloved hand, your elbows lightly hitting his as you keep your eyes trained down below. 

the waltz comes to an end, the violinists lifting their instrument off from their shoulders as they prepare for the next piece, the ladies and gentlemens who had just danced bowing to each other as they separate. 

you watch for gojo, watch as he moves to the end of the floor, accepting the drink one of his companions had waiting for him as he delves into conversation. he takes a sip, nodding along to whatever it is that is being muttered in his ear. 

he looks up for a second, his eyes scanning around for something. he’s careful not to attract attention to this fact, but you see him scan the entire room, the different floors, his eyes squinting as he tries to narrow his vision. he looks around for a couple more seconds, looking and looking until he finds you. 

a brief and quick smile takes over his face when he finally sees your face, your own lips tugging upwards as you give him a small wave. his eyes fall to the man besides you, his smile falling as well, and toji grunts. 

“are you familiar with the prince?” he asks, obviously catching this, and you gnaw on your lips in apprehension, confusion. 

“barely,” you mutter, not giving him too many details, watching as gojo looks away just as quickly, as if he had never seen you and you swallow thickly, wondering what brought on his sudden change in emotions. 

or why he even looked for you in the first place. 

“barely doesn’t warrant the prince looking for you,” toji whispers in your ear, “‘think you know him a little better than you give yourself credit for.” 

—

after the ball, gojo didn’t speak much to you when the two of you were back in his chambers.

he tended to get tired out by the end of balls, but you found yourself lonely without the endless stories he came to you with, the way he’d relive some of the events just as he was going to bed so that he wouldn’t forget them in the morning. 

but he was strangely quiet right now, didn’t say anything as you helped him shrug off his coat, hanging it up in his closet as you bite your cheek, feeling some odd tension radiate off of him, something you’ve never felt before. 

“did you enjoy the ball?” you asked, standing near his bed as he shuffles around, kicking off his boots as he scrunches his nose in distaste. 

“it was like any other,” he says plainly, yanking his tie off as you grab it from his wordlessly, folding it up so that it wouldn’t crease.

“did you like dancing with miss ahura?” you don’t know what’s going on, why he seems so rigid, “she looked beautiful, did she not?” 

he shrugs passively, not answering as he rummages around his drawers, dropping down his cufflinks in a pile with the rest of his gold ones, not knowing that a single pair of them would most likely feed you for a year.

“would you like a midnight snack? i saved some truffles for you,” you dig into your pockets, bringing some out that you had snagged from the desserts table and had wrapped in a napkin, something akin to what he used to bring you all those years ago, waiting eagerly all night to show him, “these even have some gold on them, i’ve never seen-” 

“i have chefs at my disposal,” he mutters as he unbuttons his shirt, “i don’t need truffles covered in lint.” 

your smile fell at the bite in his voice, the way it seemed to grip it’s claws around your lungs, squeezing the air out of them. you silently pocket the napkin.

“of course…i apologize,” there's a bitter taste in the back of your throat, catching his eyes momentarily. you see the way they shift, how his mouth parts open, and then he shuts them again. 

you can feel his stare as you shove your other hand back into your other dress pocket, this one with a miniature tart that you had so carefully tried to preserve throughout the evening from breaking, and feel a heavy weight settle on your chest. 

“i have your bath ready,” you point to the bathroom, ducking your head down as you bow, “i will see you in the morning, your highness.” 

you left  quickly, feeling foolish as you trekked down the stairs to your own room, feeling your heart slow down as you shut your door, shedding off the wretched costume that had you feeling as if you were something worthwhile for once. 

—-

for a while after that night, the two of you share brief conversations, sentences kept to a minimum as you bring back the cordiality that you had begun to shed off for a while. if he noticed it, he didn’t comment on it. after some days passed, and days turned into a week and a half, he barely even looked at you, and you took it as a sign that he had tired out of the small friendship and was looking elsewhere for momentary entertainment.  

tonight, you found yourself standing in the corner of his office, eyes darting around as you waited in heavy silence as his quill scratched on the parchment beneath him, dipping it in ink every now and then as he mumbled unintelligible words under his breath. 

his head rests in his hands, throwing his head back in frustration at whatever it is the document is telling him. 

his head falls down, his eyes slowly opening as he looks up at you. 

your brow raised slightly in questioning. 

“i need you,” he says, eyes widening slightly at his slip up, “i-i need your help.” he clears his throat harshly.  

he ushers to the papers in front of him, and you inhale deeply, making your way from the corner that you’ve hidden yourself in as you cross the room, your steps careful as you round to his table, standing at the edge as you stay quiet. 

“here,” he bites out, “come here.” he needs you next to him, and you have to control the urge to roll your eyes as you move, shuffling so that you were standing near his chair, looking down at the piece of paper that he’s been mulling over for the better half of an hour. 

you look at it, mouth parting open as your brows scrunch up as you focus, trying to ignore the way his eyes were burning into the side of your face. 

“i don’t understand, your highness,” you finally say, leaning away from him, “what am i supposed to be looking at?”

he pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling as he sets the paper down, leaning back in the chair. 

“it’s a letter of inheritance, who gets what after the father dies,” he explains, “but the signatures don’t match up. does it seem forged to you?” 

you look again, looking at the two signatures laid next to each other, the way the letters curved, which ones swooped, tilting your head, trying to see it from a different angle. the more you looked at it, the more disingenuous the signatures seemed. 

“they might be,” you briefly look at him, his stare burning if you look too long, “but i’m not sure, your highness.”

his face hardens for a second, and you move away, going back to the end of the table as you bow, taking your leave to the back of the room until he speaks again. you pause, looking over your shoulder to him. 

“care to look again? i have a feeling that you have a knack for schemes.” his lips are pulled back in a smile that doesn't meet his eyes, miles away from the usual smile you see from him, and if not for the benign expression, his words surely made you stumble. 

“excuse me?” you bite back quickly, your nose flaring as he scoffs, shaking his head as if he expected this reaction. 

“you’re shameless with it, aren’t you?” he’s alluding to something, and it’s driving you crazy. all the stares you’ve shared this past week, the silent exchange of aggravated words that grow only in size the more the two of you simmer. even when you were young, your arguments were resolved quickly.

“with what?” you snap, the accusations he’s throwing at you with no reasoning swarming your mind, clouding your judgment, your way of carrying yourself as you throw all etiquette out the window. 

“i can only wonder what ploys fushiguro played out for you, but i wonder even more which ones tempted you the most?” 

your tongue is heavy in your mouth, and you make a sound in the back of your throat, one of shock, one of clear surprise. was all of his unspoken anger because of…him? the man you met during the ball? surely it can’t be. 

you gape, the candle flickering away in the same beats your heart was going at, illuminating his stone cold face as he stands up from his chair, moving slowly to where you were. you try to stand tall, but you can’t match up to his height.

“you,” your jaw clenches, eyes searching his to see if he was joking, “you’ve been treating me like i’m, i’m,” you stutter, your chest constricting, “the shit you wipe off your shoe because you think i’m scheming with s-some man i met for the first time?” 

his expression flickers for a second, as if suddenly realizing what he was saying.

“as if you don’t know who he is,” he collects himself, a sneer making its way on his face, “as if you don’t know what they’ve done to us-” 

“i don’t!” you cut him off, a shocked laugh escaping your lips, “i don’t know who he is! i just thought he was being friendly!” 

gojo pauses, his eyes searching yours for any traces of lies

“come on,” he scoffs, “you know how the zenin family-”

“who, who’s the zenin family?” you exclaim, watching in real time as the facade and things he’s been convincing himself of aren’t true. 

“the,” he stutters, his face scrunching up in confusion, “the zenin…? how do you not know…?”

“because i’m a maid!” you shout, not caring if others behind the door could hear you yelling at their prince, “because i’ve spent my entire life working here! i keep my head down and i do what i’m told, a-and i keep to myself. forgive me for not knowing about your royal affairs, your highness!” 

he’s rendered silent, lips pulled into a thin line. 

“but you only care about yourself, right? the sacred prince who had everything given to him his entire life,” you continue, feeling your own pent up frustrations spewing out. you know that you’re going to lose everything after this anyways, so you don’t care about the repercussions now. you can’t bring it in yourself to care.

“you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with some unidentifiable emotion as you roll your eyes. 

“i don’t? tell me, do you even remember me?” you hate that you’re losing touch of sensibility and making it personal, personal about your own feelings and how your mind can’t wrap around the fact that he simply forgot who you were or how much he affected you, “or are your cares about the people who work for you so fleeting that you barely know our names? is my replacement coming in a week, two weeks?”

“stop,” he bites out, his eyes dark, a storming brewing on the endless sea they offer, “you don’t know-” 

“what i’m taking about…right?” you finish for him, “because i’m just the simple maid who you took in as your toy because you wanted to poke and prod around at her and see if she cries again? see if you could fix something for once-” 

“stop,” his voice is different, and your hairs stand up because it’s not his. it’s lower in pitch, deep, commanding. you shut your mouth, fingers flying upwards, but it’s too late, you’ve said too much, and there’s no going back. this is it, you’ve finally sealed your fate. 

his head falls down for a second, licking his lips as he looks at you with a look that freezes your blood. it’s not like him, and you know that this was it. 

“get out,” he mutters. 

“i…” you take a step back.

“get out,” his voice is thick, nostrils flaring, cheeks red with underlying emotions that are threatening to leave, “get out and never come back.” 

your eyes shine with tears, tears that you refuse to shed, tears that you don’t know are for what, but you nod once, your lips trembling as you bow down to him, your last shred of respect, and turn for the door, shutting it as you run down the corridor, run for the only thing you think can save you in the moment, and don’t look back. 

—

the wind is biting and unforgiving on your skin as you ride through the night. 

you lean forward on the horse, hoping it can go faster as it sprints through the open field, your eyes watering as you shout for it to go. 

you packed what you could, wrote your note to lydia and escaped through the stables, glad  to know that louis was guarding the horses tonight, glad to know that he often drank himself to sleep. 

you knew you were in too deep. you had crossed the crown prince, your ending surely wasn’t going to be good. and so call it what you will, cowardice, fear, survival, or just something you seem to have down to your roots, but you fled. you took a horse and went as far as you could, looking over your shoulder every other minute to see if anybody was running after you. 

they would at some time realize that one of their horses was missing, as well as the prince's personal maid, and easily connect the dots. 

it was late, and you were glad that the night was offering you the darkness and protection you needed. you could hear thunder rumbling a distance away, the clouds looking even more irate than they usually do. rain, you noted, even more protection that you desperately needed.

“please,” you plead, with what you don’t know, “please, hurry.” 

the horse, as if understanding you, seems to pick up its pace, going even faster than before. your cheeks are freezing, your hands going numb from both the cold but from holding onto the reins with all your might, and the sad excuse of a cloak you have on for both warmth and concealing your face, does nothing for its intended purposes. it’s flimsy and the hood is swept by the wind, and you sniffle, tears wetting your chin as you try to compose yourself for just a bit more. 

you feel an ounce of joy when you see the yellow twinge of lights from the valley below, the small town that you once used to live in coming more into focus, and feel some sense of happiness. you would camp there for the night and leave at dawn, going east, north, anywhere away from here. 

or at least that was your plan until you hear the thump of hooves from behind you. 

your heart drops, head whipping around as you see another horse coming in from behind you. you can’t see the rider, but you suspect more are behind them. they’re shouting something, but with the wind roaring in your ears you can’t hear anything. you turn around, whipping the reins again, leaning even more forward as let out a sound of desperation. 

it’s a race to survive now, something that you won't do if you lose it, and you feel your body turning into ice, everything is going too fast. 

the rider behind you is gaining speed, and you know it’s only a matter of time before they finally catch up to you. in a split moment you try to evade them, twisting the reins of your horse in one direction, not seeing the bush that was in front of you. 

in another moment you’re up in the air, losing all of your feelings as you're thrown down with a harsh thud. 

in the next moment, things going to black, your lids flickering as you try to stay awake, one of the last things you see being the blurry face of the rider,

and those eyes that you think about every night. 

—

the next time you open your eyes it’s to a bright light. 

you ground, rubbing at your face as your mouth feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton, your head ringing as you attempt to sit up, only to feel strong hands gently pushing you down. 

there’s a voice, somebody speaking, but it’s all mushy in your brain, words melting together as you shake your head, trying to get the blinding light away from you. the voice grows a little bit closer, a little more clearer, and after a couple of seconds you’re able to make out what the person is saying.

“please rest, i’ll get the doctor,” the voice is familiar, and you reach out with slow fingers, trying to grab onto something, anything.

“n-no,” you murmur, your voice slurring, “no doctor.” 

“you need a doctor,” the voice says firmly, “wait here.”

“no,” you say again, a little stronger, and the person stops moving, “s-stay…please,”

your fingers reach out, trying to latch onto a piece of their clothing, and instead find their hand. it’s warm, soft, and it quickly closes around your cold one, trying to warm it up. 

you know this hand, know this voice. 

“i’m sorry,” you mutter, and wonder if your voice is even something that can be heard by the human ear with the way it sounds foreign even to you, “i’m, i’m sorry about everything. about what i said.”

his hold on your hand grows tighter, his thumb moving up and down on the back of it in a soothing back as his other hands run across your forehead. 

“no,” he simply says, “you don’t-”

“but i said-” 

“everything that should’ve been said,” gojo finishes quickly, “but i need to go get you a doctor, check if you don’t have a concussion or worse. he checked for…other things,” he swallows thickly, not able to say what terrible words the town physician told him when they brought you into the small inn, the words that turned his skin transparent and nearly ripped the heart right out his chest, “see if you’re doing okay.”

“i don’t have a concussion,” you tell him him, finally able to blink without shooting lights and on your final squint you finally see him, sitting right next to you, his hair disheveled and face clammy, “i’ve had concussions and this isn’t a concussion.” 

his brows furrow but you wave it off, sitting up so that you could rest on the head board behind you, not letting go of his hands. you’re not even sure he would let you if you wanted to, with the way he was grasping on as if his life depended on it. 

you groggily rub at your face, glad that the thumping in your head is dying down, gracefully accepting the glass of water he offers you. you chug it down, feeling the droplets wet the chemise you’re wearing, but can’t find it in you to care.

you look around the room, wondering if you might actually have a concussion because you’ve never been here before, and it certainly doesn’t look like it’s part of the palace. 

“we’re at an inn,” he explains as if reading your mind, “it’s the closest place i could find.” 

you nod wordlessly, looking away from him because it feels raw, the emotions, the events from before, everything. 

he senses your disposition and his hold on your hand loosens for a brief, flickering second. you hate the feeling. 

“i shouldn’t have assumed,” he whispers, your eyes still focused on the patterns on the bed sheet, not knowing what would happen if you looked at him, “i shouldn’t have thought any of it. i just saw you and saw him and…it got in my head. it got a hold of me and for that, i’m sorry.” 

your fingers curl into his hand. 

“but, i, um,” he stammered, stuttering the way he used to when he was a little boy, something they surely worked on seeing how it rarely came out anymore, “i wanted you to know that i do remember.” 

your head snaps up, the bed creaking at your sudden movement, your mouth slightly open in surprise. 

“what?” your question is breathless, akin to the boyish, nervous, and small smile on his face. just like he used to smile when you chased him up a tree, telling him to get down or else you’d be in big trouble as if he were your responsibility.

“you used to wear a uniform that was so huge, you’d trip whenever you’d walk. you loved the fruit pies i’d bring, but you hated the ones with the pine nuts. you’d always call me ‘toru because you couldn’t say your s’s properly and you made me a doll with some fabric you found around the rooms.” 

his thumb rubs on your pulse point, a melancholy smile on his face. 

“you named him fru-fru,” your voice is barely above a murmur, “and you kept him on your-” 

“nightstand,” he nods, “but i had to move him to my study because he was getting too fragile, i couldn’t move him too much.”

you wipe at your cheeks, sniffing as you feel a strange warmth fill your chest, filling an emptiness you didn’t know was there. his eyes shimmer, wet with tears threatening to spill, and for the first time since you met him that night, you feel like you’ve never been closer to somebody than you are now, souls interlinked together, twisting and turned as they grew with time. 

all the emotions you’ve been latching onto or forcing down are coming up at once and you feel overwhelmed, not knowing how to handle them together. 

“why…why did you act like you didn't know me?” you finally ask, wiping at your chin with the palm of your hand as you sniffle, “why are you telling me all this now?” 

“because all this time i thought you had grown to hate me,” he mutters, “you just stopped speaking to me one day and no matter what i tried to do you never responded. i sent you letters and i visited your quarters and i even went to that scary lady,” you laugh wetly, knowing that he was referring to your old head-maid, the one that terrified him as a kid, “but they all acted as if you had forgotten about me. at some point i convinced myself that you left but when i saw you running across that field i just knew, i knew it was you.” 

you shake your head, the tears coming on even harder. all those years when you had to act passive, act as if you didn't know him just so that you wouldn’t lose or jeopardize your position or life, pretending that the one friend that made your days that much brighter was a passing thought to you. 

he leans in a bit, wiping at your cheeks gently with his thumb as you lean into his hand, watching as you quickly wipes at his own reddened cheeks, brows scrunching up together as you whimper.

“they f-found out,” you choke, “about us. and they knew who i w-was and who my mom was and they told me to never speak to you again,” your words come out broken, “and i left little piece of my clothes outside your door at night, ones with drawings or things i thought you’d know but every morning they would be gone. i,” you cry, your voice sputtering as you crawl closer to him, into his open arms, “i could never forget you,” your voice cracks, muffled by his chest, “you were the only f-friend i had,” he pulls you in tighter, his arms around you encaging you in a warmth that you so desperately needed. his chin rests atop your head, and you can see the way he struggles to get his own breaths out, the tears that he struggles to hide. 

“don’t cry,” he pleads, begs, holding onto the last scrap of composure he had left, hating hearing your cries or seeing your tears, “please, please don’t cry,” he pulls himself away from you slightly to look at your face, to dry your cheeks as you hiccup, “you’re killing me tonight, you know that right?” 

you try to laugh though it comes off as a snort, savoring the way his fingers trace your face, your cheeks, your jaw, your nose, the corners of your eyes, trying to savor every bit of you as if they’ve been starved for an eternity. 

“tried to run after you after what i said…” he can’t find it in himself to repeat his wretched words, “only to find you gone. you have no idea how much of a mad man i was, ordering everybody to turn each stone inside out until they found you. then that stupid stable boy kept yelling out that a horse was gone and i thought surely you wouldn’t be foolish enough to run away, ‘specially not when a storm was coming but…”

“i ran away when a storm was coming,” you finish for him with a quiet chuckle, feeling your body heating up at the way he broke into an instant smile when he heard the sound. if only you knew the things he’d do to hear it again, to see you happy would be his three wishes if he was ever asked.

“and you were going fast,” he traces your cheekbone, his words filling the large and empty room, “so, so fast. and when you fell?” he takes your hand in his, bringing it up to his chest, setting it on his heart as you feel it thumping quickly underneath your palm, “was about to take you to the doctor and tell him to give you this,” his fingers curl above yours, his forehead resting on yours, your noses breaths away from each other, “it didn’t matter to me anymore, it doesn’t work right without you.”

you feel lightheaded like you need him more than you need oxygen, your eyes falling onto his lips, not knowing that he was mirroring your exact same motions, the two of you working in tandem like a machine and its little bolts, not working without the other. 

“would it perhaps be because you can’t live without the chocolates i sneak in for you?” you try to joke but it falls flat in your head, but he still huffs out a laugh, nose nudging yours as you lean in impossibly closer.

“perhaps,” he answers, his face lit by the single candle behind the two of you, “but it could also perhaps be because i love you so fucking much.” 

and you whine, tired of waiting, moving the single bit you needed to connect your lips together and fall forward on his lap, your hands shooting up to his shoulders to use as much needed stability. 

he groans, a sound from the back of his throat, from deep within him, his hands moving up to hold onto your waist as you move into him, kissing him with such fervor that you felt like you were going to die without feeling his lips on you.

it was so messy, the way your teeth clash against and noses bumped against each other, but it was what you so desperately needed. he was moving fast, his lips kissing against the corners of your mouth, down you chin as they found your neck, his smile growing as you throw your head back, fingering digging into his white strands as you tried to pull him in even closer. 

you let out breathless sounds, sounds that you never knew you could make, but it seems to spur him on, planting wet and sloppy kisses on the column of your neck as she sucked, marking you up so that later people would know that you were his and his alone. 

“gojo, i,” your eyes screw shut at the feeling of him, “feels so good,” you say breathlessly, moving closer up on his lap, feeling his hands tug at the flimsy chemise you have on, fingers slowly tugging it down, giving you time to push him off if you wanted to. 

he looks up at you, his eyes needy, desperate, just as yours, and you nod, needing him to not stop. 

he continues, pulling it down so that you're bare before him, nipples pebbling in the cold air as you go to cover up, suddenly realizing just what is happening, feeling shy, never like this in front of anyone before. 

“we can stop,” he muttered against your lips, pressing a small peck to them, “we don’t have to do this now, we have all the time in the world,” he teases as he tugs your chemise up but you grab his wrist, stopping him as you shake your head. 

“no,” you tug it down a little bit, “i’ve just,” you take in a deep breath, “just never done this before.”

he chuckles, eyes flashing darkly for just a quick second as he kisses along your jaw, leaving your skin shining in the limited light.

“good,” he murmurs, “‘cause i think i’d have to exercise my grandfather's way of handling people if somebody else saw you like this.” you laugh shortly, tugging sharply on some of his hairs as he looks up at you, eyes full of devotion that you’ve only dreamed about. 

“beheading people for just seeing my tits?” you’re more crass than he is in some places, a sign of the different language you’ve heard growing up in the circumstances you’ve had, but he doesn’t care, likes it in fact. 

“i’d burn down villages if anyone saw these,” he cups them in his hands, thumb flickering over your nipples as you suddenly arch into him, head falling back, “you’re so perfect,” he whispers into your skin, his lips hovering on the slope of your breasts as he takes time to admire your chest, “so beautiful,” you would’ve smacked him if not for the way he took one in his mouth, leaving you no time to think of anything else as a moan escapes your lips, the first of its kind.

“damn you gojo,” you moan, hearing his chuckle vibrate through your tits as his sucks on your nipple, tugging it with your teeth as you feel your stomach heat up, growing more and more wet as you buck up on his thigh, “you t-talk too much,” you shudder, eyes rolling back when he presses his flat tongue on your areola, his other hand massaging your other tit until he switches, leaving it glistening his his spit.

“yeah? then where do you want this mouth, hm?” he looks up at you with his eager eyes, just wanting to please you, and you feel like you’re becoming an addict, your cunt growing more and more wet as riding his thigh proves to not satiate the hunger. 

“d-down,” you can’t think clearly, “please, need you so bad.” 

“where?” he plays with you, pressing his hand against your stomach, “here?” 

you shake your head, feeling needy and not in the mood to play around, not knowing where your sudden surge in confidence was coming from as you grab his wrist, leading it down to your cunt as you hide your face in his neck, whining. 

“h-here, ‘toru, need you here,” he throws his head back, a sound coming from somewhere in his chest as his name falls from your glossy with spit lips, tugging the ends of your chemise up to your stomach as he stares at your bare pussy. 

he pushes you back gently to lie on the bed, nestling between your legs as he savors the sight.

you cover your face with your hands, hearing him laugh at your expense, keeping your thighs spread wide open with his hands as he presses tantalizing kisses on the insides of them, each one closer and closer to the unbearable heat. 

“wait,” you mutter, confused as to what he was doing, watching the way he snapped up, worried eyes finding your confused ones, following your stare down to his growing bulge. 

“i thought…?” all the stories lydia would tell you didn’t start this way, usually beginning his the man pulling his dick out and being done in a couple of minutes, “do you not…?” 

satoru breathes easy, laughing as he shakes his head, resting on his haunches as his palm rubs against your soft thighs. he looks so pretty like this, with his hair going haywire, some of it in his face, some of it messily pushed back. there’s a pink flush to hit face, his lips plump and shinning with spit. 

“trust me, you have no idea how bad i want to feel you,” his eyes are so dark that you wonder if they’re even blue, “but i’m not going to do it in your condition. i don’t want to hurt you any more-” 

“but,” you whine but he shakes his head, pinching your soft skin as you wince, hitting him with your knee as he rolls his eyes. 

“i promise you’re going to like this,” he rubs softly against where he pinched you, smoothing the skin over, “do you trust me?”

“yes,” you mutter, watching as he breaks into a smile, “better not disappoint me though.”

“fuck, you’re such a minx,” he groans, spreading your lips open with his pointer finger, his dick aching at the sight of the string of arousal that connects them together, at the clear shine and wetness from just how much you needed him, “you’re actually going to be the death of me.”

“then hurry u-up ‘toru,” you say, “don’t die on me now,” your fingers were cutely curling in his hair, and he’d be an insane lunatic if he made you beg any more than you have, diving in as if you were actually his last meal before he died. 

your mouth falls open in a silent scream, the feeling unlike anything. he sucked on your clit, moving up and down from your cunt, wanting to taste your saccharine wetness on his tongue to back up. he was so messy, so loud, and you felt like you were going to overheat, felt like everything was fogging your vision. 

it felt so good. too good. his tongue dived in and out of you in a way that had you gripping his hand and the sheets under you, your leg around around his shoulders as you bucked into his open mouth, your wetness smearing all of his lips and chin as he ate you like a man starved for years. 

“o-oh my god,” you mewl out, eyes rolling back as you felt one of his long, swift fingers slowly pushing into you, his lips still sucking on your clit as you felt like you were actually entering heaven. 

“not god,” his voice is muffled, “just ‘toru.” you would have laughed if you could, your smile instantly dropping when his finger pumps in and out.

your toes curl, leg around his shoulder pulling him in closer if that was even possible. if he were to die right now he’d had the giddiest smile on his face, happy to have you dancing around on his tongue. 

everything about this was shameless and you wondered if all your good deeds were finally catching up to you. 

you don’t even care if the people sleeping next to you, above you, under you, or even at this inn could hear you, because when he put in his middle finger you screamed, back arching off the bed. 

“so good, fuck, ‘toru, i,” you could even form a complete sentence, “feel so good,”

“yeah?” you nod feverishly, “fuck, you taste amazing, love this so much, love you so much,” he’s babbling with his words too, his nose sometimes accidentally rubbing against your clit, bringing you all the much more pleasure.

sometimes when you look down to see him you moan helplessly, your chest heaving at the way he’d rut mindlessly into the bed, his dick hard and swollen and achy from eating you out, about the burst from just your scent alone. 

your stomach tightens and you feel an unfamiliar thing deep in the pit of your body, growing taut with each swipe, each like, each kiss he would give you. it made your moans more breathy, your words less understandable, and you felt like you were slowly going to go insane, losing all sense of reality. 

“‘toru, i, i don’t know,” you’re sputtering, nails raking into his hair, your free hand grabbing onto your tits, the bed sheet, his shoulders, anything to help you ground you back down to earth, “i feel, f-fuck, oh my god, i,” 

“you got this sweetheart,” he encouraged you, his words honeyed, “come on, let go for me, you can do it,” his thumb which had found its way to your clit was speeding up, his tongue and fingers taking turns as they pounded into you. 

you felt that rope getting together and tiger, about to snap at any moment as you whined, tears escaping from the corners of your eyes as your lips huffed out puffs of air. 

“i, f-fuck, i’m ‘gonna, oh…” you whine out loud, the line snapping, your orgasm crashing through you as your mouth falls slack. 

it was mind numbing, the way everything went white, the way you tightened around his fingers which were slowing down. you creamed around him, leaving his skin shiny with your release, your pussy still pulsing seconds after as you try to catch your breath, still seeing white behind your lids as your tits move up and down with each haggard breath. 

he presses on last kiss to your fluttering clit, hands massaging your quivering thighs as you slowly yet surely come back down to reality, each second passing bringing you back down with him. 

“good?” he teases, his smile coy as you cover your eyes with one arm, lightly pushing him with the other. 

“fine,” you mutter, peeking over to see him positively glowing, a stupidly large smile on his face when he sees you finally looking at him, pressing the fattest kiss to your lips as you squeal, eyes fluttering for a second as you taste yourself on him, parting your lips mindlessly to let his tongue slither in.

you whined against his lips, fingers curling around the collar of his open tunic, pulling him closer to your naked body, feeling your tits press up against his chest, everything so perfect that you wondered if you were dreaming. 

“wait,” he muttered, pulling away from you, a string of spit connecting your lips together as you sit uop a little, you brows scrunched in confusion as you watch him sit up from the bed, walking over to the vanity as he rumages around the drawers for something. 

he pulls out a small cloth, holding it up in victory as he grins, walking over to your nightstand as he wets it with soem water, crawling back into bed as he settles back in the middle of your thighs, gently pulling them apart as he starts cleaning you. 

it’s all so intimate and so loving. you feel like melting watching his focused gaze, careful to be soft and slow, knowing that you’re a little stretched out, and pat it as best he could, cleaning around your thighs as well, throwing the cloth to the side as he climbs back up to you, pressing a loving kiss to your temple. 

you shrug the rest of the chemise off, riddled with your essence and sweat, and pull the covers up, feeling the sudden chill now that satoru’s no longer eating you out like both your lives depended on it, and a silence falls over the room. 

“is this a bad time to tell you about my horse laundering scheme with fushiguro?” you ask, your eyes shining mischievously as satoru whines, hiding his face in your chest as he pulls you closer to his body. 

“you’re so evil,” he says against your skin. 

you laugh, the sound going straight to his heart, his smile hidden. 

but you fall silent and when you don’t speak he looks up, his eyes searching yours. 

“what now?” you whisper, your fingers carding through his hair, feeling its softness, “i don’t…” you trail off, biting your lip as every other emotion that you had tucked away comes crawling back. 

his finger finds its way to the middle of your browning, easing the crease that was forming. 

“now you become my wife…if you would like to, of course…” 

you search his eyes to see if he’s joking, but you only see honest sincerity in that sea of blue, his cheeks pink as he blushed. 

“really?” you can barely say it without a giddy smile making its way on your face, one that he glows brightly at. if only he could bottle it, save it for when the universe collapsed and was in need of light. 

“really,” he promises, holding you tightly to him, not wanting to ever let you go again, needing you next to him so that he could make sure his heart was working, to make sure that he was actually alive and that this wasn’t all a dream. 

“i’ve loved you since the moment i saw you, ‘toru,” you whisper, nodding off to sleep as a yawn escapes your mouth. 

“is that because i used to try to swoon you with food?” he whispers, his drowsy eyes finding yours as you sleepily giggle, kissing the tip of his nose as you curl into his heat, a smile on your face when you say the last words before you finally head off into sleep. 

“perhaps.”

[yuansie]

(1) even when there was rain, sunshine came

pairing. caleb x fem! childhood friend! non mc! reader (x childhood bsf! zayne)

synopsis. caleb planted a seed in your heart when you were both young, nurturing it without meaning to until it sprouted and blossomed. it shouldn't have grown this much, not when you knew you could never have him.

genres/aus. angst, fluff, f2l, unrequited love, childhood f2l

warnings. slight ooc caleb (i have not read homecoming or wtv that chapter is called BC BLUESTACKS DOES NOT WANT ME TO FINISH LONG AWAITED REVELRY OR WTV THAT CHAPTER IS CALLED IM STUCK ON CH12...), NOT canon compliant oops (no higher being placing a curse on zayne, no experimentation done on mc and caleb bc josephine is a good person this time BYEEEE), reader has neglectful parent(s) in the beginning kind of, mentions/descriptions of crying, mc is female (she doesn't have a name in here either). if there's anything i'm missing, please let me know!

rating. sfw but make it lowk very angsty but fluffy ish at the same time.

wc. 8.2 k

a/n. live love laugh angst (but with a happy ending) and live love laugh not proof reading and SORRY FOR NOT UPLOADING THIS EARLIERRR uni sucks booty fr !! also, i've come to the decision that i will just make this into a mini series, having about 5-10 chapters maximum !! the ideas keep coming, and i'd like to take a different approach to this prompt/world i've build for this nonmc! reader in an actual caleb series much like my rafayel one! also decided to make it into a mini series bc i cant keep writing and expanding on this and leave yall hanging for longer IOEOIFJAWEOI

YOU’RE EIGHT YEARS OLD WHEN YOU MEET CALEB. it was in the last days of summer, right before the leaves began turning red and yellow and orange. you remember your dad telling you that an older lady moved into the house across from yours, that there two kids living with her: a girl younger than you and a boy your age though a couple months older. he said something about the girl having a special condition but the words went through your ear and out the other because you didn’t care about them; you knew you wouldn’t talk to them anyways.

then, your dad left to go to work and you were all alone.

you were always alone, and you felt that loneliness every second, acutely aware at how it bleeds into your soul and makes you so, so sad. it’s what makes you head to the park two houses down the street and sit at the big, oak tree there. your favorite thing to do is climb it and sit on one of the bigger branches around its middle, feeling as if you could reach the sky and escape these heavy feelings. you blame your dad for making you like this: for making you think that the heavens can help you escape your heavy feelings. he told you once, on a night where he was in charge of tucking you in while your mom worked late at the hospital, that he loves the sky and how it makes him feel like all of his worries are nothing but a speck of dust. he made you think that one day, you could reach the sky and feel what he felt. if you reached out enough, you would be free.

but today you had no energy to do that.

as soon as you reached the oak tree, you sat down and rested your back against the trunk. your eyes watered instantaneously, cold tears dripping down your cheek and to the tip of your chin as you tucked your knees into your chest, your arms holding them in place so they could keep your weeping heart warm. you were so lost in your overflowing sorrow that you didn’t notice a boy running to the tree, not even when he stood three steps away from you.

“why are you crying?”

you snapped your head upwards.

the boy looked surprised, his purple eyes as large as the moon as he stared at you. his back was to the sun, covering him in a golden glow. he didn't say anything as he knelt down, his brows furrowed.

you hiccuped and looked away, angrily staring at your house from where you sat. “go away, stranger.” you see the older boy that lives next door when you avert your gaze from your home. it’s zayne—you recall your mom telling you that you used to have playdates together when you were younger. obviously, you don’t anymore. you don't even speak to one another—perhaps, he thinks being friends with a girl two years younger than him is not worth his time.

you don’t blame him for thinking that; after all, your own parents probably think the same.

before your mind spirals into the inky void that tells you bad things, the boy speaks up. “my name is caleb! now i’m not a stranger, right?” you glance at him from the corner of your eye. caleb grins at you, his smile as bright as the sun. it’s too blinding, you decide, and drop your gaze to the ground. “i guess not…” you mumble.

“so that means we’re friends!” caleb laughs when you quickly look at him again, surprise evident in your features. “now you can tell me why you’re sad!”

you wrack through your brain to come up with an excuse and end up stuttering out, “b-but you don’t know my name!”

“you’re y/n, right?” he laughs again when your jaw drops in comical way, gasping for air in between his next words. “ha! g-gran… talked t-to your… parents!” caleb wheezes, tears in his eyes. “y-your parents told us about you!” once he calms down, caleb lets out a sigh as he sits next to you, nudging your shoulder. “c’mon, you can tell me why you’re so sad now.”

you look back at your house, frowning at how lonely it looked. “i… i don’t think my parents love me.”

“what?”

“i mean,” you rest your head on your knees, your voice now muffled. “they’re never home and they never spend time with me.”

your dad is often away, being the colonel and all, which means he’s gone for months at a time. it wasn’t always like that, but things changed when that forsaken tunnel appeared above the city. your dad was one of the first to answer the call, to fly in the sky to protect the world from wanderers. so it isn’t his fault and neither is it your mom’s that they’re never there. she’s a doctor, a colleague of your next door neighbor's parents.

it is not your fault they are both needed by more people and by more important matters.

caleb’s about to say something when a girl calls out his name, running until she stands in front of you two. you don’t pay attention to her, and instead keep your eyes focused on your house. you wish your parents were home more, that they’d spend more time with you. the girl ends up leaving after she speaks to caleb, who watches her go with a careful eye.

“sorry about that,” he says, scratching his cheek. “gran sent her to tell me it’s time for lunch, but don’t worry! i’ll stay here with you until your parents are back!”

you blink at him, feeling your eyes start to burn. “you’ll stay?”

“mhm!” he smiles, and this time you actually don’t turn away. caleb laughs softly, leaning forwards to wipe away at the tears that fall from your wide eyes. “why are you crying again?”

you didn’t even notice that you had stopped in the first place. “i-i don’t know.” you do know.

it's the first time someone ever stayed with you in a long time.

caleb, surprisingly, calmed you down in a matter of seconds. he stayed with you until the sun began to set, when the blue sky became tinted by orange and pink. he made time go by fast, making you smile and laugh until your cheeks and stomach hurt. and he was surprisingly attentive, noticing immediately the way you perked up when you saw your mom’s car drive down the road and stop in front of your home.

“you ready to go now?” caleb stood up and stuck his hand out, waiting for you to grab it.

“your hand is warm,” you mumble, gripping tightly onto his hand as you lead the way back to your house.

he giggles and nudges your shoulder. “my hand is warm?”

“mhm.” it’s very warm, akin to the blankets you wrap yourself with during the cold days of winter.

and just like that you were at your front door, shyly waving goodbye before going inside. the doorbell rang shortly afterwards, yet before you could open the door, your mom had already done so. you left and headed up the stairs and into your room, telling yourself you’ll eat something after your mom retires for the night.

but that never happens.

because the strangest thing happened afterwards: your mom came up to your room and talked to you, apologizing for making you feel lonely and abandoned.

you know it was caleb’s doing: why else would your mom be like this?

without meaning to, caleb planted a seed in your heart that day.

when you’re ten, you realize that you’ve changed the slightest bit. you’re a little more outspoken, a little more confident in yourself; and your world that was once monochrome is now full of color, full of warmth and life.

you have memories where you’re laughing until your stomach hurts, where you’re learning to love apple and bake apple pies to perfection, where you’re learning to do cartwheels with the little girl while his laughter echoes in the air. it’s all thanks to caleb—he reached out to you, deciding to integrate you into his world. you’re forever thankful that he decided to talk to you two years ago, thankful that he spoke to your parents about your feelings because otherwise you would be stuck in the dark.

caleb has brought light and warmth into your life, and now you are never cold and lonely. he even sticks to you like glue at school, never leaving you alone for a second in the classroom because somehow you always manage to be in the same class as him. sometimes you grow tired of having to keep up with the energetic boy, sometimes the fatigue wearing your bones down and rendering you useless. caleb seems to know when that happens, or maybe he doesn’t. what matters is that he seems to time his golden smile; it is a smile so radiant that it melts away what weighs you down.

and always being with him has made you adopt some of his habits, his attentiveness being the one that shines through the most. it’s what makes you notice your next door neighbor. days of careful glances makes you learn that he’s always reading on the porch of his house or he’ll do the same inside by the window, that he’s never with any other kids his age and that he’s never at the park.

maybe you should talk to him and—

“y/n~” caleb nudges your shoulder. you jerk in surprise and wobble on the tree branch you both sit on, gripping tightly onto the wood while you lean forwards from your lack of balance. the boy yelps and takes a firm hold of your arm, stabilizing you. “you scared me!”

you huff, glaring at him. “you scared me! i could've fallen just now, dimwit.”

he pouts, “but that's your fault! you weren't listening to me.”

“yes i was!”

“oh yeah?” caleb raises an eyebrow. “then what was i saying?” he snickers when you don't reply, gently nudging your shoulders this time because he learns from his mistakes, you know! “see? i was right. you keep staring over there.” he gestures in the general direction of where you keep staring. his finger touches the green leaves of the tree, the tips fading into a yellow color.

autumn is coming. not yet, but it will be there in due time.

you decide to tease him a little. “pft, you’re pointing at the leaves.”

his lips curl into a frown. “you know what i—”

“caleb!”

the eight year old girl comes running up to the tree, huffing as she points up at your best friend. “i-it’s time for dinner!” she tilts her head over at you, beaming. “gran said you can come, sis!”

caleb looks at you, “you coming?”

you smile at the girl before shaking your head, moving towards the tree trunk. “i need to do something,” you grunt, shimmying down whereas he just jumps off the branch and lands with a thud. the girls gasps and you gape at him with wide eyes once your feet hit the ground, “are you okay?”

“a-okay!” he grins, standing up proudly as if he didn’t just scare the living daylight out of you. caleb flexes a boney arm, “i’m strong, after all!”

“yeah, okay hercules.” you chortle, rolling your eyes. “i’ll see you around.”

you watch as he and she wave goodbye at you, caleb hooking their arms together as they disappear into their house afterwards. you notice that there's a tightness in your chest when you see them hold hands or hook their arms together—it happens sometimes, not always. like right now: your chest tightens a little, feeling heavy. you chalk it up to wanting to do that with caleb one day and go your merry way.

your mom is startled when she opens the front door just as you reach out for the doorknob. she holds a container with cake inside. “goodness,” she chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “you scared me.”

“are you going next door again?” you move to the side so your mom can walk out.

she hums, “i am! i left some—”

“can i come this time?” you usually don't go to the dinners your mom has with zayne’s family every friday, always heading to hers and caleb’s house instead despite your mom’s best efforts in convincing you to join her. you always had an inkling that she wanted you to spend time with the older boy next door.

your mom beams at you so wide that you’re taken aback as she drags you to the li’s front door. did it really mean that much to her that you want to join this time? well, you’re on a mission to get close to zayne so that he can have friends too.

speaking of the devil, the door opens immediately after your mom presses the doorbell, revealing the older boy. his eyes widen the slightest bit when he sees you, though he quickly regains composure, his features relaxing. with a small smile, he greets your mom. “hello, mrs l/n.” he directs his gaze at you next, “hi y/n.”

you blink in surprise. “…hi zayne.” you didn’t expect him to remember you because you don't particularly remember much about him.

he steps aside just as his mom appears from behind, momentary shock melting into a warm smile. “y/n! i’m so happy to see you! will she be joining us?” her eyes flit up to your mom, who nods excitedly.

you’re ushered inside and into a seat not even a second after being welcomed in. “we always have a plate and cutlery out in case you stop by,” mrs li says. a lump forms in your throat and it’s hard to swallow. you feel awful, knowing that every time you chose to stay with caleb, the li family had hope that you’d stop by and eat with them.

still, you somehow manage to smile at the older lady. “i’ll make sure to come with my mom from now on.”

“really?”

you nod. “of course,” holding out your pinkie, mrs li laughs and hooks her own with yours. “i promise.”

mrs li heads into the kitchen with your mom, leaving you and zayne alone at the dining table. he sits in the chair next to you and you fidget in your seat, not sure how to break the stifling silence. what would caleb do in this moment? he’d probably say something stupid or just go ahead and ask to be friends… that’s something only he could do easily, but for you? that’s a challenge.

“you look worried.” zayne says, looking at you from the corner of his eye.

you frown and play with your fingers, “was it that noticeable?”

zayne hums as the two moms come back with pots of food while chatting about your dad. “you aren't doing a good job at being subtle.”

his comment makes you huff through your nose, the corners of your lips curling upwards. caleb says that to you all the time, claiming that you make it is easy for him to read you.

“smiling suits you.”

you stop breathing and stare at the boy with raven hair, slowly blinking while the moms plate the food and continue talking. zayne glances at you again and then looks at his plate, eyebrows furrowed as he picks up a fork and pokes at the carrots, nudging them into a corner. “did i say something wrong?” he mumbles.

he didn't say anything wrong… it’s just that no one has said that to you. not even after your change, even if it was a small one.

not even caleb.

you shake your head, “no.” coughing, your eyes shift to his hands, seeing how he stabs the last carrot on his plate and places it in the corner along with the rest. “you… you still don’t like carrots?” you vaguely recall a memory from when you were about five: you and zayne were eating a plate of oranges when he suddenly spat it out and a chewed piece of carrot was then laying on the table. his mom had cut small pieces of carrot inside his bowl alone with the oranges, trying to trick him into eating them.

zayne’s hazel eyes widen. “you remember?”

with a snort, you answer, “you spit out the carrots every time your mom tried tricking you into eating them. that’s pretty hard to forget, if you’re asking me.”

his ears flush the lightest shade of pink, making you giggle as your fingers wrap around his plate, rotating it. with your other hand, you grab your fork and take his carrots.

“…thank you.”

“i should be thanking you,” you hum, “i love carrots.”

whereas you and caleb are polar opposites and only have a thing in common, you and zayne are not. you’re so alike: reserved and quiet, both sticking to what you deem is the vicinity of your personal bubble. it was easy to befriend him again; by the end of what remained of summer, you had introduced him to caleb and her. it did take a month and a half of convincing, of relentless pleading that convinced zayne to follow you to the park where she and caleb were playing as usual.

caleb and zayne didn't get along well right off the bat, and they always argued. it took you aback in the beginning, not used to seeing caleb argue so… pettishly with someone. much less with zayne. zayne baffles you every time he mutters under his breath about how caleb is ‘so annoying’ because all he does is talk about dinosaurs or is ‘a child’ during friday dinners at his house. well, he is a child, so he’s not wrong there. but with that logic, he should also be calling you a child and yet he doesn’t.

zayne does, however, get along well with her.

you see it in zayne’s attentiveness to the young girl, you see it in the way his voice softens when he speaks to her, and you see it in the way he hangs onto her every word as if it were something sacred.

you also see it in the way his ears sometimes turn the lightest shade of pink when he speaks to her.

when you think about it, they’re both alike in that way.

the sun is in the sky, bright and warm like the boy next to you.

“he’s trying to steal her from me,” grumbles caleb. he swings his legs back and forth while the two of you sit on a tree branch, zayne and the girl sitting underneath on the other side of the tree. she’s teaching him how to braid a crown of flowers, and you can see the small curl of his lips. he’s smiling a shy sort of smile only reserved for her.

“he can’t steal her from you because she isn’t an object.” you tear your eyes away from them and focus on the brooding boy beside you, taking note of how he pinches his brows together and pouts, mumbling something under his breath. while the branches and its leaves provide good shade from the sweltering heat, there is still sunlight that peeks through gaps, and golden specks manage to coat caleb’s figure. “that means you can’t have her either, cal.”

your words have him turning to you quickly, his eyes wide. “i can’t have her?”

“of course not!” your silent admiration of seconds ago dissipates as you scoff, flicking his forehead. he yelps as you continue, “she’s a person! you can’t have people; that’s weird.”

“but that monster is stealing my best friend!”

you frown, blinking once. “zayne isn’t a monster.” but caleb sure seems like one at the moment, you think. a monster of green envy.

“yes he is!”

“zayne is not a monster.” you repeat, irritation beginning to bubble in your chest because caleb wouldn't be saying such things if he didn't have this weird rivalry going on with zayne. “don’t say that about him.”

“why are you defending him anyways?” caleb narrows his eyes at you. “you’re supposed to be my friend—”

friend. best friend. you realize he hasn't ever really called you his best friend because she’s his best friend while you think he's yours. if he doesn't think that of you, then you can’t think that of him… right?

you both whip your heads to the ground, clambering down the tree as zayne calls out both yours and caleb’s name. if his voice hadn’t betrayed the frantic feeling swirling in it, maybe you wouldn’t have this overwhelming sense of dread. when you both round the tree trunk, you see that his face is pale, and he’s holding onto her. she’s trembling, her face paler than zayne’s as if all the color had been drained from her features, and she’s heaving and trembling uncontrollably. the sight makes your stomach drop to the ground as caleb dashes forwards, dropping to his knees while yelling about getting granny josephine to them. you honestly don't remember running to their house, asking josephine to help the little girl—it’s all a blur. all you can remember is how the two boys finally had something in common other than their care for the younger girl: their expression.

they were both horrified.

and you wonder if you looked like them.

your eleventh autumn was just like any other, but this time it was different because of him.

you decided to stay the night after having dinner at zayne’s so he could help you study for your science test on monday. caleb would have been the one helping you, being in the same classes and all, but he was helping her study. while you do love and care about her, you care more about your grades because surely the tests in middle school are harder than the ones in elementary, right?

you’ve been inside zayne’s room before. more often than not, after dinner, you’d end up in there with him while talking about everything and nothing. sometimes you’d both be quiet, content with just being next to each other while reading a book on his bed, and sometimes you both would talk about current hobbies and interests.

“where will you sleep?” zayne’s voice comes from near his bed while you head towards his desk.

“in your bed, duh.” your eyes skim over the surface, chuckling at how tidy it is… until your eyes fall on a haphazardly hidden pieces of paper underneath zayne’s stack of notebooks. weird, you think. zayne likes keeping notebooks, books, and papers separate from each other.

“why would you sleep in bed with me?” he asks.

“we used to sleep in the same bed when we were children.” which is true: your moms have a photo book with evidence in it from your younger days together. “i don’t see why we can’t if we’re still children.”

you hear him huff through his nose. he’s probably pinching it right now. “you’re eleven and i’m thirteen. you’re a child and i’m a teenager.”

“didn’t you say that teenagers are fourteen-year-olds and up the other day?” your fingers wrap around one of the notebook’s spine, carefully lifting it and whatver notebooks are on top and pull the pieces of papers out.

your eyes scan the contents of one of the pages, highlighted words aiding in your understanding of what it is that you’re reading. medical school… majors… he’s looking at colleges.

“well, yes.”

you turn around and hide the papers behind you. “so that means we can share the same bed, right?”

zayne sighs, shaking his head while his lips curl upwards just the slightest bit. “you win this round, miss know-it-all.”

you grin at him and bring the papers out. “you sure i’m a know-it-all?”

the older boy stares at the papers you wave in the air, staying silent as if trying to find the words to explain something to you. you raise your eyebrows. “staying silent makes you look like you were hiding something from me.”

“well… i am. was, i was.” zayne corrects himself and sits down at the edge of his bed, patting the space next to him. you take a seat and eye him. “i’ve been trying to tell you this past summer that… well…” he sighs. “i skipped grades.”

“oh—” you gasp, eyes widening to the size of saucers. “so this means…”

majors.

medical school.

he’s grad—

he exhales slowly. “i’m graduating from high school this year.”

you feel the world go still. you hear your breathing. you feel cold. suddenly, you feel deep and heavy dread wash over you.

after this year, zayne will leave.

your best friend is leaving you.

“why are you crying?” zayne panics, clumsily wiping the tears you didn’t know were falling down your cheeks. the pad of his thumb is a little rough against your skin, but his touch is soft. he’s trying to be gentle, and it makes you feel more gloomy.

“i don’t know,” you mumble, hiccupping as you look down at your hands, watching the tears he doesn’t manage to wipe away fall onto them. “it’s just…” do you tell him? that you don’t want him to leave you alone? sure, caleb is a great friend but you’ve come to realize, since the incident last summer, that she will always be his top priority and—

majors. medical school… her.

“you’re doing this for her, aren’t you?” your voice is quiet.

you love her, you do. she’s like a little sister, and you obviously care for her like they do. but they care more, they love her more. you don’t quite understand the intensity of their love for her. and despite their burning ardor in wanting to be there for her and how it always ends up making you invisible, you can’t bring yourself to ever hate her. she’s innocent, just living her life while the two boys flock to her. she didn’t ask for their attention or love, it’s just that she’s so easy to love.

“…don’t tell her.” zayne’s hands fall from your cheeks and grab onto your hands. his touch is cold, unlike caleb, but it doesn’t make you flinch away from him. you let him take your hands into his, holding them carefully. “please.”

you huff through your nose. “if that’s what you want,” you answer. “it isn’t my place to tell them, anyways.”

it’s quiet, peaceful almost if you weren’t so caught up in the sinking feeling your chest. your heart just sinks and continues to sink in black ink, growing heavy. zayne’s voice timidly calls out your name. “you’re still crying. there’s more to it, isn’t there?”

“i don’t want you to leave.” because if he leaves, you’re afraid that you’ll have to admit the ugly truth you know, deep down, about caleb. it’s a truth that is so clear to everyone, a truth that you see every single time they’re in their own world. a world that pushes you and zayne out like the waves when they leave shore and retreat back into the ocean.

the older buy chuckles, and you look at him through your wet lashes, noting how his hazel eyes flicker with quiet care in them. “i’m not leaving yet.”

“keyword being yet,” you mumble, gripping onto his hands now. “…i’m being dramatic, aren’t i?”

zayne opens his mouth to say something, but you cut him off. “i should be happy that you’re doing something so cool. i mean, skipping basically all of high school and graduating super early? that’s so cool… and i’m here crying like a baby over it.”

“but your reaction is reasonable,” zayne says. “i’d be upset, too, if my best friend told me all of sudden they’d be leaving at the end of the school year.”

best friend. not just friend.

“i’m your best friend?”

“naturally.” zayne responds quickly. “you know me better than anyone, just as i know you better than anyone.”

just like that, your tears stop falling and the sun peeks out from the cloudy sky inside you.

the rest of the night goes smoothly: zayne helped you study for your science test, which you both found boring after an hour because all of the questions were easy, and you spent the rest of your time talking with him. you wanted to know of his plans, what he’s thinking, about what he wants to do after graduating. you both fell asleep in the midst of your conversation, though you wake up at three in the morning because you felt weird. your own body was telling you that you forgot to do your night routine. so when you wake up, all blurry-eyed and dazed, the first thing you can see is your sleeping best friend. after a couple of blinks, your vision clears up and you’re aware that you’re close to him. in fact, you’re close enough to see and count his dark eyelashes. you pout, no way he has prettier eyelashes than i do. the thought goes away as quickly as it had formed in your mind, replaced by the icky realization that you fell asleep without brushing your teeth. so you sit up, gently waking zayne so he could do the same. when he stirs awake and stares at you with squinting eyes, he knows what you mean when all you do is wordlessly point at your mouth despite the sleepy haze of his mind. and just like that, you both silently head to the bathroom and brush your teeth next to each other, quickly going back to his bed and falling asleep once more.

when morning came, you both find yourselves staring at his mom with confusion as she giggles and repeatedly asks how you both slept during breakfast. you think she must have seen something while you both slept, though you decide to let your suspicions go when you bid the li family goodbye and head next door to your house.

mom will probably tell me about it later tonight, you think just as you shove your house keys into the lock. you push the door open and kick your shoes off your feet, sliding them to the side and slipping into your slippers when you step inside. you hear someone running down the street, and right when you’re about to close the door, you hear your name being called out.

“i didn’t see you at all yesterday!” caleb runs up to you, a bright grin plastered on his lips. with his back to the sun, he looks as if he's bathed in gold. “pips missed you, you know? what were you up to that—what’s that?”

you blink once and suddenly he’s in your bubble, burning fingers gingerly touching your eye. you close it on instinct, and he runs his thumb over your eyelid. you can see yourself reflected in his eyes from this close. his warmth seeps into your skin, and you have the urge to lean into his touch. your heart lurches and skips a beat, feeling excited and calm at the same time.

“what’s what?” you cough, taking a step back.

he frowns, his thumb now under your bottom lashes. “your eyes are red and puffy. are you sick or something? you feel oddly hot.”

oh, that’s right. you cried yesterday, and you feel as if your heart is ready to jump out of your chest and into his arms where it wishes it could be.

“i’m fine. it’s just that i watched a sad movie after dinner with zayne,” you sigh, gently pushing his fingers away from your eyes. zayne’s words echo in your head, a quiet reminder that you can't tell caleb because he’d tell her right afterwards.

caleb huffs through his nose, his lips curling into an amused smile. he shakes his head once, his purple irises reflecting the warmth he radiates. “you do cry a lot while watching movies, don’t you?” he leans back and tilts his head at you. “alright.”

you furrow your eyebrows. “alright… what?”

“even though you’re clearly hiding something from me, i believe you.” caleb pinches your cheek, the amusement in his lips softening. “i’ll see you later?”

“yeah…” you say, dazed, but shake your head quickly. “wait, what are we doing?”

caleb laughs, the hand pinching your cheek now covering his mouth, “don’t tell me you forgot that we’re supposed to study for the science test on monday?”

“about that…” you look away from him. “zayne helped me study for it last night.”

his silence has you taking a quick glance at him. caleb seems shocked and his eyebrow twitches, though it disappears and is replaced by something you can’t quite describe. a forced smile of sorts? “he helped you study?” he asks. “then what’s your verdict? will the test be easy or hard?”

you scratch your cheek, thinking. “well… even though he helped me study for a bit, i say the test is going to be very easy.”

“guess that means i won’t study.” caleb shrugs and ruffles your hair, a real smile on his lips now. “talk to you later, short stuff.”

“i am not that short, cal!” ever since he’s grown an exact inch taller than you, he acts like you're a midget now.

you watch as he waves goodbye, walking backwards for a couple steps with a laugh before twisting around and heading down the street. he’s probably heading to the small dessert shop nearby to pick up some of her favorite doughnuts—it’s what he does every saturday morning.

your twelfth autumn marks your first one without zayne.

he left at the end of summer, right as the tips of the green-yellow leaves on your favorite tree began turning a slight orange, barely noticeable. his disappearance had gone unnoticed until yesterday, half way into the fall quarter and midway into october. you’re in the middle of reading a book, one of your dad’s that he let you borrow, on his bed laying on your stomach while caleb helps her do her homework at his desk. he has a singular picture on it that he puts down whenever you're over, but you never ask why he does that.

“where is zayne?” she wondered aloud, tapping her pencil against her chin. “i haven’t seen him around lately.”

“huh,” caleb clicks his tongue in thought. “now that you mention it, neither have i.”

both their eyes land on you, though you don’t bother looking up. with practiced ease, you reply. “i haven’t seen him around.”

“but you go to his house every friday? and he’s your best friend? surely you know something.” she leans forwards in her chair, trying to get a better look at you.

“i go every friday because i made a promise to his mom,” you retort, finally looking up. with a shrug, you continue, “his mom hasn’t said anything about his whereabouts, so i’m just as clueless as you bunch.”

the girl drops it, a smile now on her lips. “your dad is coming home soon, right?”

you blink in surprise. “you remember?” you mentioned it in passing, it was when she and you were watching caleb during basketball tryouts. you told her that your dad would be coming back soon from the fleet, how you were excited to finally see him after so long.

caleb huffs a laugh through his nose, “of course she remembers, short stuff.”

you grimace, rolling onto your side and reach out to grab something in your vicinity, which happens to be a pen on his bedside, and fling it towards him. “you are literally just a couple inches taller than me, cal.” he’s actually a whole head taller than you now, and caleb's growing into his features. his cheeks have started losing their softness, his eyes a little sharper now. he has a natural, boyish charm, something that makes everyone notice him at school.

he loudly laughs, the pen stopping right in front of him before he swats it away. it lands with a clatter against the floor, somewhere in his room. with a huff, you lay on your back. “better work on that aim, short stuff~” he sings, getting up from his desk and heading over to his bed. you look up at him, your lips pursed as he pinches your cheek, purple eyes warm with mirth. his hair falls over his eyes, making its color look deeper. “how else are you going to get into the aerospace academy with me?”

you raise your brows, “you're acting as if you're already in.”

“well—”

the girl hums. “so you both want to leave me.”

just like that, caleb is back at her side and you’re all alone. “i would never leave you, pips.”

“pinkie promise?”

you watch from the corner of your eye how he wears a soft smile as they wrap their pinkies, his touch lingering.

you aren't stupid; in fact, you pride yourself in being so smart and attentive. so, you know that the tightness in your chest is because of caleb, because of the feelings you harbor for him. you aren't stupid, so you already know that caleb can never be yours, that he can never feel that way for you.

because he is hers.

with a sigh, you close your eyes and will yourself to calm your aching heart. you should be used to the ache that settles in your chest when this happens, but here you are.

later that day, right as the sun begins to set, you bid her and granny josephine goodbye. the taste of her apple pie from dinner lingers in your mouth.

“you don’t have to walk me home, cal.” you say, chuckling as you bump shoulders with him. instead of walking across the street, you walk down the sidewalk.

he hums, following you, “just let me be a good friend, short stuff.”

“you just love rubbing it in, don’t you?” you grumble, stepping into the park. your feet take you to the tree until you’re in front of it. you look behind you, raising an eyebrow at caleb. “i’ll stay here for a few minutes, so you can leave if you want.”

“i’ll stay.” at his confirmation, he moves past you, a faint scent of apples lingering in the air along with the sweet, woody smell from the oak tree as he scales up the trunk with ease. “your turn!”

“yeah, yeah.” you huff, rolling your eyes as you climb the tree and make it to the branch caleb chose to sit at. you breathe in and out slowly.

“the tunnel makes the sky look ugly.”

you snort, slightly baffled at the sudden proclamation from the boy. “where did that come from?”

“what?” caleb shrugs with a laugh, shoulders shaking slightly. “it does make it look ugly. like, really ugly.”

your quiet giggles get louder, and you throw your head back. “that is the first time i have ever heard anyone say that.” you wheeze, your laughter so strong you wobble on the branch. caleb wraps an arm around you to keep you from falling, his touch making you still instantly.

“you need to be careful,” he says. “one of these days you’re going to end up falling and i’ll fall with you.”

“if i ever fall, it’ll be because of you.” you cough and attempt to shimmy away from him, though his grip slightly tightens, preventing you from getting away.

the brunette absentmindedly taps on your arm with a finger. “i’d never let you fall… you know that.”

he’s saying that because you're his friend, and he is fiercely protective of those he cares about: the people in his inner circle. you are a part of it, you know that, and yet your heart cannot help but to stupidly flutter at the illusion of a hidden meaning behind his words.

“…it’s getting late.” which is true—the oranges and pinks of the sunset are now bleeding into a purple hue. “i should get going now.” you don't wait for him to say anything; you just climb down the trees as quickly and possible and book it to your home.

caleb is not far behind you.

stepping on the first step of your house’s porch, you stop and turn around. you’re eye to eye with caleb.

caleb wears a boyish grin on his lips, something that makes your stomach flip. “i have something for you.”

“oh? and what would that be?” the corners of your lips turn upwards.

“how about you close your eyes?” you shut your eyes, hearing intently to the boy shuffling. you feel a warmth brush against your cheek, trailing over to the back your neck. “give me a second.”

you hold your breath. caleb’s fingers work nimbly, and something cold hangs around your neck. there’s silence for a beat; he’s still close enough for you to hear his breathing until he leans away. “open your eyes.”

they flutter open at his command, and flitter down to see a necklace. there is a cloud with a wispy appearance right at the bottom, and small translucent beads hang from it in white and blue. the chain around your neck is decorated with solid white and blue beads.

“do you like it?” caleb scratches his neck, eyes carefully watching your reaction.

your voice comes out quiet, shy. “i do.”

you hear the smile in his voice. “i’ve been trying to give it to you since your birthday.”

“what?” looking up from the necklace, you blink at him repeatedly. “but my birthday—”

“i know.” he laughs softly, shaking his head. “i’ve had it since last year, and… i just didn’t know how to give it to you. i thought now would be a good time.”

i thought now would be a good time.

his words echo in your mind, and you take a deep breath. you also have something you want to give him: it’s sitting in the drawer of your desk, in a small box. “do you… do you want to come inside?”

you’ve never invited anyone inside your house, inside the walls that is your safe space. zayne is the only one who has stepped foot inside, who has made it up the stairs and into your room on more than one occasion. caleb used to bug you about that when you two first met, into the early months of your friendship. he thought it was weird that you were always over at his home while he had never gone inside yours. his complaints stopped when you introduced zayne to them—probably because he didn’t want to be around him despite the desire he had to discover what lays hidden in your home. you like to think that he finally decided to wait until you were ready to show him what’s inside.

caleb’s eyes are wide with surprise. “you want me to go inside?”

“i also have something for you.”

despite the poor lighting of the porch lamp, caleb is still akin to gold. he smiles and you turn around to unlock the front door, your heart thumping loudly in your chest. when you open the door and hold it open for him, caleb is all too quick to walk inside, following you up the stairs into your room after you shut the door. his eyes scan the inside of your room as soon as you turn on the lights, shuffling over to your desk as he stands by the doorframe. the color of your walls are a light blue, strings attached to the ceiling with paper clouds hanging at the end. he realizes there’s glow-in-the-dark stickers on the ceiling after squinting. there’s a book shelf in the corner of your room, right besides your desk. the top shelf has a few trinkets: a small airplane, a blimp, a cap.

he assumes it's your dad’s cap, the one that goes with his uniform.

the second shelf has a couple of books, a stuffed animal in the form of a snowman, and a picture: the last one you took with your parents. last summer, you and your family took a trip to verona. in the picture, your dad has you hoisted onto his shoulders, an arm on your legs to keep you steady while the other is wrapped around your mom. everyone wears a smile, yet yours is the brightest one out of the three. caleb’s chest swells with pride, knowing he did the right thing all those years ago when he found you crying at the big oak tree.

the third shelf has a picture, one where it’s you and him. he remembers when, where and who took the picture. it was on your last day of school, your fifth grade promotion ceremony, and your mom took it. again, your smile is the brightest one. though, upon further inspection, he realizes your picture is different from the one he has on his desk. you’ve decorated it with small stickers, ones of golden and purple swirls that sit on the frame.

then there’s more books. another picture frame—is that zayne? you and zayne as children… oh, well you look at that? another picture frame of you and zayne. a recent picture, it seems, decorated in the same manner as his. he’s not sure when or where or who took this picture—

“think fast!”

caleb blinks and the flying box stills in front of him, floating in the air before it can hit his chest. “uh… why?”

“gotta be on your toes if you want to be in the aerospace academy with me.”

he laughs. “look at you, already acting as if you’re in.”

you shrug. “you do the same.”

“touché.” his eyes look down at the box. with a hum, he grabs and opens it, blinking once. inside sits a necklace, one with a small, silver sun on it with a purple gem in the middle. “…a sun?”

“you remind me of the sun.” you mumble. “you’re warm like it, too.”

caleb beams so wide his cheeks start to hurt, and there's faint blush on his cheeks that spreads to the tips of his ears. “i’m like the sun?”

“mhm.”

“funny… because i got you a cloud because sometimes you’re calm and happy, sometimes you’re gray and gloomy, and there are times when you’re like a storm.”

you stare at him, wide-eyed, and he continues. “tell me when you feel like there’s a storm in you.” he gets closer to you so that he can tap on the necklace that hangs around your neck. “so i can shine the sun on you... i will never hurt you with my warmth.”

it’s a silent promise that he’ll be there for you.

“and if you do?”

“then you can hit me!”

his fingers twitch, his foot taking a step forwards. but there’s a knock on your door before it’s pushed open. both you and caleb watch, confused.

your mom has a night shift and wouldn’t be back until morning.

caleb doesn't see a thing before you’re already leaping forwards into the arms of a man in a black uniform, his cap falling onto the ground. he recognizes the man as the one that holds you on his shoulders in the picture on your bookshelf.

your dad, the colonel of the farspace fleet.

caleb smiles to himself, his hold on the tiny box in his hands slightly tightening. he will be there for you, whenever you're sad or happy or mad.

he will be there.

previous | masterlist | next

taglist. @ellieevu @ryusjwks @llamabois @kazbrkker @1ncpst @babythotbox @angelwhizpers @miffysoo

[secretaccountlol]

Loud!Reader x Mark.

This is inspired by this loud!reader by the wonderful and lovely : Nympheagaina

This is SMUT, 18+ only.

Synopsis: you’re quiet during sex, not because your boyfriend isn’t good, just wasn’t in your nature until now.

Words : 2,710!

Warning? : Soft!dom Mark x Sub! reader, sex toys, Mark does pin the readers hands, Reader has female body parts.

Uhmm proofread by my dyslexia ass plz don’t yell at me for typos! I always love readin’ yall comments and reposts!

Author note feel free to skippp :

Oh my god bro, I’m so rusty on writing and I was having such a hard time trying write mark “dom” - like because I just think he would show more thru actions then words .. also don’t think he’d ever be a “hard” Dom, always a soft Dom at that, coaching you thru it, or talking you thru it but also getting choked up as well? Yeah.. I love man whose crying while topping lol. Anyways enjoy.

Supple skin collided with his ears, your thighs flinched as his slippery tongue glided over your clit, one of your hands bury into his head, soft hair tickling between your fingers. 

Strings of salvia still connect you and Mark as he pulls away from your cunt. 

“H—hey?” Mark’s voice calls to you soft hums slip through your lips.

“H-hm?” your eyelashes are heavy as you stare at him, hazy.

“Am I good-?” He thumbs your clit, hiccuping a gasp from you, his brows tense as he watches your reaction.

“I-hm? Mark.. What do you mean?” Your spine crunches as you prop yourself up, head tilts to hold his gaze.

“Well- uh, you never y‘know moan when I go down on O-or even when I’m— fuckin’ you..” His fingers scratch his non-existent beard, his pouty pink lips make your fingers flex instinctively.

Your pupils shine in regret as you slide your hand under his chin, your thumb strokes his cheek. 

“Aw Mark, baby no you—you’re wonderful, I’m just — quiet..” your lips chap as teeth bite into your flesh. 

“Quiet?” 

“Yeah— I just…” heat builds up in your cheeks, as your voice squeaks.

“We’ve been together for a year now— you can tell me if I’m not good! I can improve, I promise!“ Mark’s pleads reel in your heart.

“ Aw, Mark, no honey. ‘m sorry I’m so used to being quiet after years of living with roommates and stuff, and I was like— using a dildo or vibrator so.” your body shifts as you bite your lips once more. 

“I— you’re the first person I’ve been with so, I’m still learning too. ‘m sorry again.” 

“Nononoo— I’m glad you told me, I’m just happy to know my stroke game isn’t weak.” A grin peeked through his mouth as you giggled at his stupidity, you planted a soft kiss on his toothy grin. Mark’s grin turns inquisitive as he hovers at you. 

“Hey, can— we try something?” 

“Depends? What do you wanna try?” Your brows furrow.

“Where’s the toy chest?”   

“I— Mark..?”

“Come on, Just— indulge me, hm?” 

Your hands pat his arms before motioning your head down, “U—Under the bed.” 

“Thank you” his body slinks off you, tentative hands slide the box from its hiding place. Eyes scanning your choice of toys, your body trembling as you watch him judge.

“Hey, why are you so nervous?” His hand caresses yours, snapping you out of your trace.

“It's just me, your lovable boyfriend.” He flashes another smile, disarming you, just a tad.

“Well, my lovable boyfriend won’t tell me what he's about to do plus- I— god. It’s embarrassing watching you fondle my toys!” Your butt wiggles against the bed as he giggles. 

“Oh, you mean like this?”

 Your hands slap over your eyes as his eyebrows wiggle, picking up a soft pink dildo, fingers sliding up and down its shaft.

“Yes! Like that!” Your back flew down to the bed, curling on your side away from your boyfriend. 

“I’ve never seen you this shy before, this is new.” He straddles you, turning your hips flat. 

Your hands pry off your pretty face as his breath ghosts against your ear, “I— I kinda like it.” 

“Maaarkkk! Plea—hn” A soft lick placed upon the shell of your ear ruptures a shiver down your spine.

“That was a pretty noise.“ Mark plants a kiss on your cheek, nuzzling your nose as he plants another on your lips.

“Yeah. A small one.” Your arms cross and an unimpressive frown adorns your face. 

“See, that’s what we’re gonna work on today, using your words— or uh, noises” 

You giggle at his shifts of confidence, “Hm, okay Mister. Make me scream then.” Your grin sent a surge down Mark's nervous system. 

 “Oh, you just fucked up biiig time.” His hands find your waist.

“Really? Did I noOW-!” You yelp as his hand yanks your ankle as he pulls your legs up, cold air hits your pussy as he watches your legs crack wide open, hands grip the back of your thigh. 

“Mark!” 

His saliva glistens against your pussy as languishing licks start assaulting your clit.

 “Mar-nnhn” your fingers grip your arms as your head tilts back. A whimper escapes as Mark plants more kisses upon your clit. 

“Mark- please your—“A sharp moan threatens to bubble your mouth, and a pleased hum escapes Mark. Nimble fingers circle your hole before one eases into your aching hole.

“Maa-holy shit.”

“Think you can handle another one?” It wasn't really a question, just an attempt to get you to speak.

“Yesyesyeyyes please-“ 

Torture wasn’t a good enough word to describe what was happening to you, your mind clouded your skin was running hot, too much, and not enough stimulation. A delicate huff falls from your mouth as his second finger stretches your cunt out. 

“Feel nice? Wan’ another?”

A high-pitched whine leaves your mouth as you nod rapidly. 

“You have to tell me what you want, I won’t know

If you don’t tell me..” He whispers your name at the end, earning another whine. 

“mor—!”

“Good..good you’re doing good! Keep talkin’ just like that.” 

“Pleaase!”

Your back arches off the bed as his third finger enters you, and your head throws back as your lips press into a thin line suppressing another moan.

“Oh go-“ you hiccup cut off with another whine. 

“You’re so wet, baby..”

The heat and pressure bubbles from the depths of the soul as Mark’s fingers pump in and out, “m— hnm, Mark! I—I can’t!”

“Can’t what?” His thumb rubs harsher circles on your clit as you buck up.

“ ‘m cu— oh—! “ your hands leave a bruising grip, as the world fades white and your hearing turns fuzzy.

Mark’s fingers slowly pump as you come down from your high.

“You.. okay?” His digits pull from your body slowly as you whine from the loss. 

“ ‘m great..that was— that was good.” 

“Really?”  

A happy sigh vacates you, as you lean to scratch his soft hair. 

“Yes, really good baby, thank you.” 

“I’m not done with you yet.”

Your hands slide to his cheek, as your brow furrows. “Mm, round two already?” 

“Mm, yeah haven’t made you scream yet.” 

Soft kisses elicit humming noises as hands roam against silky skin.

Mark’s velvety voice calls your name, “ Can I put it in?” 

You giggle as you nod, “It fuckin’ kills me with how sweet you are.” you press more kisses on his nose as he trails kisses down your tummy. 

His tip brushes against your clit, covering his cock with your arousal.

“Stoppp teasin’”

“Impatient.” 

Frustration peaks from you, “Shut u—!”

 Mark’s cock stretches your cunt as you watch your face twist in pleasure, mouth in a silent ‘o’.

“Cute..” His fingers rub circles on your hips, gripping them, pulling you flush against himself. 

Your knitted eyebrows relax as he draws back before slamming back into your hole, your hands fly to your mouth muffling your sounds.

“You moaned.”

You heaved before letting your fingers tighten then release from your mouth. 

“Uh- yeah, I’ve been moaning this entire time, Mark!” 

Mark smirks, like a full-blown grin, “no no no noo! You full-blooded moan— no little whimpers or whines. You moaned.”

“Wha— yeah! That’s what happens when you feel good!”

“Mmm—, I wann’ hear more please?” he captures your lips before slamming back into you, your breath hitches as you try to move your hands back to your mouth. 

Mark’s hands catch yours, his fingers intertwining before pinning them to the bed, his eyes hang low as he pulls back to look at his work. 

“Nuh-uh..Not this time!” A touching kiss was placed on your tender skin as your body wiggled under his body.

“Mar—!” your eyes flutter as the sound starts to rise from your pit.

“Pleas—“Another slam of his hips into yours makes you choke out a sob. 

“Co-come on, fuck—..hhn..” 

“I- I can’t— “ Heavy pants fill the room as Mark pounds into you harder.

“You— fuck… you can do it, baby? Plea-please for me? Please? Hhn—“ his hands release yours, both softly gripping your face. His hands steady your face as his eyes burrow into yours. 

Soft pink lips seeping soft breath against your breath as you stare back. 

“Please— I—I’m gonna lose my min— ah!” 

You see stars as your hands slide over his as your head tilts back. 

A beautiful cry of intoxicating velvet silky sound caresses Mark’s ears, a falter into a stutter, his eyes widen before they turn low in a sultry stare, his hands slip from your face to your hips as he leans back on his knees to take in your body. 

“Holy fuck..”

“Hu-? Mark why'd yo— HHN!” Your wrist shoved together held in place by one of Mark’s hands as his hips piston into you. 

“Oh- fuckfuck—! You so-sound so so good..fuck please I wann’ — wann’ hear m— hhn” Mark’s teeth graze your neck as his pink lips latch on, your body shudders as he sucks a purple bruise onto your neck. 

“Ma— ahhn! Plea— “ Your words seep in and our broken streams as you stir against the hold your boyfriend has on your wrist.

“You look, ah-  so fucking beautiful right now, oh god.” Mark whimpers as his hips snap into you, causing another burst of moans. 

“Yesyesyes— please..gimm’ mor—“ Mark’s whines cloud your ears as your eyes flicker as your mouth hangs open another moan rips through your throat. 

“M— I’m —“ 

“Yes, yes—  giveittome, please please—“ Mark’s buzz through your body as your head tilts back as your walls clench, “ohfuck—“

Your hands tighten into a fist as his seed spills into you. 

He milks himself through your high as your moans die down to soft whimpers again.

“Another round?” 

“M..Mark, god! I—.. Jesus just caught my breath!” Exasperated sighs hummed from your throat. 

“Please?“ Mark's brows furrowed, his face was more akin to a puppy than a human, his hands clasped together in a prayer hand. 

“Marrrkk…”

“Y-you just sounded so good, please, pretty please? I jus-just wann’ hear it again. Just one more round.” 

“One more round.” 

“One more r—“ your breath hitches as his dick swells in you again. 

“Damn your stupid vil—“

Vision grows spotty as his cock thrusts into your g-spot, his fingers dig delicate delight bruises into your hips as your sobs echo throughout your apartment. 

A loud knock freezes both of your movements. Mark’s eyes glance to yours, fingers pressed into an “Shh” as he pulled out of you, throwing on your pink robe that was hung on the door. 

You gather all the covers to your chest as you try to peek through the door, hearing persons mutter then Mark’s trademark embarrassed laughter, then your door groaning shut. 

His face comes back into your view, his face flustered as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“What was that about?” 

“Uhh— haha, your neighbor.. was worried about you— I explained we were ..uhm in an.. intense— ‘workout’ asked for us to be.. lil quieter with our ‘workout’. Also, she asked for the workout plan, so you’ll have to send that to her.” his shoulders shrug off your robe, putting it back on your door rack before shuffling onto the bed again. 

“Oh my god” your face buried into your covers, “I’ll never ever be able to look her in the eye.” 

Marks lips grace the top of your head before, tackling you back down to the bed.

“I mean, she was worried! I think that’s sweet.” His nose bury into your neck, inhaling your scent, then soft kisses peppering your skin.

“Just means we’ll have to be a tiny bit quieter.” 

“Wha- Mark!”  A wonderful hum slips through your lips as his finger rubs circles against your pearl. 

“You’re still soaked..”

“Mark, ahh-..” a whimper eggs him on as he watches your face twitch.

“Mark—“ your back arches as a sudden buzz assaults your clit, your hand searches for Mark’s wrist as he pressed the vibrator harder against your sensitive parts. 

“Oh— ! Markkk- ho-how’d Wher—?” Your hands slap his arm feebly. 

“Mm, when I put your robe back, I saw your toy chest in the corner,  I totally forgot I had wanted to use a toy on you. “ 

Another groan of frustration and desire slams out of you, “Please, show me more. I love hearing you like this.”

Your ears flicker between the buzzing between your thighs and his words as your body convulses in pleasure another shaking orgasm,

“Thatsss’ it, fall apart for me, please for me. baby?” Your hands clung to him like air, your sobs hiccuped through your throat as his vibrator still attacked your sweet spot.

A hazy waft over you as your body hums, breath swallows as you feel a familiar sensation of his cock.

“Ma..Ah!” Nothing prepares Mark for the blistering  harmonious moans that danced from your mouth as his cock buries into you.

“Good baby..Fuuckkkk, you’re perfect.” His thumb finds your clit as your back lifts. 

“I— can’t-!” 

“You can— fuck.. you can take me—“ 

His thumb applies delicious pressure to your knob, tears brim at your eyes as another yelp releases. “God, baby— I’ll have— mm!” Mark’s breath halts, “You don’t want your neighbor to—mm— come back right?”

Your head shakes as you whimper, “Noo..nonono— fee— good” 

“I know, I know. Can’t be — ahh.. Too loud, an-anymore” 

“I.. I- can’t! S’its too much-“ Your legs wrap around his waist as you sob his name more and more. 

“Mm, t—too much but you're wrappin’ your legs around me?” Mark’s chuckle sends another high-pitched wail from your mouth. 

“If y-fuck..! If you keep bein’ so deliciously l—loud I’ll have to gag you,” baby.” 

 “Can’t— s’quiet- Ma—“ your legs shake as another plays on the horizon. 

“S’loud- I’m—“ 

Mark’s fingers stuff themselves into your mouth, your tongue sluggishly engulfing his digits.  

Mark’s eyes burn with ferocious appetite, his hips stammer to a stop as he ogles your lewd display. 

“You really want to fuck the shit out of you, that’s the way to do it.” 

“Pleas-uh— ‘arder” Your head lifts to take his fingers deeper into your mouth, gagging on them before pulling away, “Mo—mooruh—pleas—“

“God” a stroke of his cock makes your head throw back Again, tears fall against the creaking bed, “W-who am I  to den— deny you that pleasure, hm?” 

More choked sobs are muffled through fingers as Mark’s punishing pace ruins you further, his breath ghosts the shell of your ear, nipping it with his teeth,

 “I hope you aren’t doin’ anything to—mmm—orrow, because I don’ think I’ll be able to s—stop tonight.” 

Another plea of mercy from you ignites to Mark’s dick. 

The sounds of your sloppy cunt drenches the room as your arousal pools on the bed sheets, your legs and Mark’s member sticky with endless sexual fluid. 

“Just one mor— gimmie one mor—“

It’s filthy, only whines and pants as you come again. Your mind is gone, filled with Mark and his cock, how it feels as release inside you finally, your tears have run dry. You can’t remember how many times he came in you, or how many times you’ve come either. 

“Maru—fuh” 

Mark's fingers leave your mouth with a pop, “Shh, I got you.” 

Open-mouth kisses decorate your face as you faintly as your chest rises and falls. 

“I’m gonna run a bath, okay?“

You hum in response.

“ ‘m sleepy..”

“I know, I’m sorry”

“You… owe me a massage tomorrow— imm’ be so soooree”

“I promise one massage coming up” 

——

A few weeks later. 

“Hey, You!” Your neighbor bumps your shoulder gently as you head up the stairs. 

“Oh! Hi Julie, long time no see!” 

“I know! Listen, I need your workout plan! You’ve been lookin’ sooo good lately, like glowing’ and I, sooo need that in my life right now. Oh and do you need a partner for it? I know you and your boyfriend usually do it together. I always know when he comes over now since the walls are sooo thin haha!” 

“I—“ your mind blanks, “Uh— I’ll send you the workout video!” 

You scurry to your door as you give a quick wave goodbye. 

Now, that was mortifying.

[elacular-kink]

Poly-techhic 3.5 A: Oops all feelings

This is a pretty direct sequel to chapter 3. It's a very short scene where Maya asks Olivia about her relationship with Susanna now that she finally has The Context. This includes No Hiccups, sadly.

Character Sheet

TW: Religious trauma, Shame (remembered, discussed), Abortion (discussed), Emotional meltdowns (remembered), Shitty teachers (remembered), Kids/teens dealing with kink stuff (remembered), Self-loathing (remembered, discussed), Complicated romantic feelings

"Hey, Liv!" I said while we were lying in my bed together. "Now that I know about Susie's cute hiccup thing, can I know the full story behind you and her?"

Liv sat up and pursed her lips for a moment. "I guess you can now, yeah. Well, it started in preschool. I only remember parts of it because we were so young, but the main thing I remember is that it was the first place where a lot of people started getting sick of my hiccups and telling me that. Teachers and other kids. They'd do things like try and make me drink water or hold my breath, even though I told them I knew that nothing worked. They didn't listen to me. And every time a new person tried, they didn't listen to me either. But I could feel that Susanna was watching me. She always was, but she never talked to me, and she never tried to cure me. So eventually I just came up and asked her why she was staring at me, and she yelled 'You're scary!' and ran away. So I guessed that that made sense. I assumed it was a racism thing." It was kind of crazy to me to imagine a four-year-old being able to "assume it was a racism thing".

"But one day we had a substitute teacher who was really really bothered by my hiccups. And she kept trying to cure me, and after water and holding my breath, they got weirder, and she kept touching me and trying to drag me places and I started crying, and then Susanna yelled at her. She yelled about how nothing cures me and said that if she didn't stop trying to, she'd beat the teacher up. So Susanna and I both got sent to the corner. I asked her why she was scared of me, and she said it was because she was scared of the hiccups. When I asked her why she'd never tried to cure me then, she said that just because she was scared of them didn't mean that they shouldn't exist. And then out of nowhere she just yelled 'I'm gonna be brave and face my fears!' After that, we were best friends. She was always around me, especially when I had the hiccups, and if anybody tried to cure me or give me crap about them, she'd yell at them or hit them. Susanna got in trouble a lot.

"At the end of that year, my older brother got expelled because he was too autistic for them, so he and I were both sent to public school. That was probably a good thing, and I was happy to go to the same school he was, but I didn't realize Susanna wouldn't be going there too until it was too late. We left the church too, so I couldn't find her through that either. So all through elementary and middle school, I still had the same experiences, but no Susanna to protect me or get angry at people for me. That's part of why I realized being honest was important. Even if a lot of people didn't listen to me when I said that nothing cured me or that I didn't like being touched, some people would listen, and they'd know that I always said that, so I'd have a sort of paper trail. A court record, I guess. That's also why I learned how to get pretty good at muffling my hiccups. I don't like doing that when I don't have to, though, so I usually avoid it these days.

"Then in high school, I saw Susanna again. As soon as I did, I hugged her, because she said I could hug her any time. She was really confused and angry, but when I told her who I was, she remembered me right away. I was confused too because she acted like she didn't want me around, but then I remembered how she'd stared at me and run away from me when we were little, and I figured that she might just be scared of me again. But she'd decided to face her fear then, so she'd probably do it again now. And we had a bunch of classes together anyway, so I was going to spend time with her. I tried to reconnect with her with things I remembered her liking. Some of them worked, like talking to her about computer games. Or video games more broadly. But others didn't work, and I didn't understand why until later. Like, one of her favorite things to do when we were little was to play doctor when I had the hiccups and give me examinations. I never minded that, but when I asked if she'd like to do that again, she nearly exploded. I knew it wasn't really age-appropriate, but that still didn't make any sense to me until I learned about her hiccup fetish.

"Even though she acted differently, she was still the same Susanna Jane Butler I remembered. She'd get between me and anyone who tried to give me shit about my hiccups. Actually, she wouldn't let people give me shit about anything, even when I was the one who was wrong. That's something I still feel like I have to be careful about; not letting her act like I'm always right. Or convince me of that. When I say that I'm always right, I'm mostly being facetious, but there's a part of me that really believes it. And I think there's a part of her that really believes it too.

"She was really serious about catholicism still and got into arguments all the time with people about gay marriage and abortion. She's really embarrassed about that now. I was sort of able to guide her away from that. For the abortion thing, I ended up finding out that restricting access doesn't actually decrease the number of abortions that happen. Since she actually thought it was about wanting people to not kill babies, that made a huge difference to her, and it got her started changing her mind. Gay marriage was harder because there's nothing objective or numbery about that. It was also harder because she's gay, so I think she figured that if it was something about her, that something was probably bad. It's fucked up. Telling her I was bisexual didn't help. It just made her try to convince me to only ever date men and tell me I was lucky I had that option." Olivia frowned. "Susanna can be a real asshole when she gets envious of people."

"Jesus. So she was way fucking worse in high school." Imagining her like that, I knew I would have hated her fucking guts. "Uh, not that I'm not happy you did, but why the fuck did you keep hanging out with her?"

"Because she was still my best friend. I'd never had anyone who was as good a friend as her. And she was still a good friend, even if it wasn't the same as before and even if there was a lot more harder stuff than there used to be. She'd still do things like protect me from people who were mean, share her food with me, give me her sweaters when it was cold, and sing songs for me when I got overloaded. She's always been good at helping me with sensory overload. Part of it is probably that her little sister has some cognitive issues and has meltdowns kind of like mine, but she was good at it in pre-k too, so I think she might also just have always had a knack for it. Susanna's a person who always tries to do what she thinks is right. She tries way too hard a lot of the time, and when she's wrong it's really annoying and stupid, but when she's right and when she's helping people, it makes her someone really really special.

"When I learned about her hiccup thing, I don't remember exactly what set it off. It seemed like nothing to me. Susanna would probably remember it better. But at some point in junior year, Susanna flipped out when I tried to hug her, then ran off and locked herself in a bathroom. That's kind of her default panic response, I think. When I found her, she was crying. She only cried once or twice when we were in pre-k, and I'd never seen her cry in high school, so I knew that something was serious and bad. She said that I shouldn't come near her and that she was bad and evil. I told her that was stupid, and she yelled at me that that was because I didn't know the truth. So I told her that I knew that she was gay and she had a crush on me and that was fine. I was right, but, um..." It was rare for Olivia to use a filler word, and her flat face twisted into a small cringe. "That didn't help. That didn't help at all. So we fought a bunch. She actually had some grievances stored up. She doesn't do that anymore, especially not to me, because that's something I fear a lot. But she'd let small things that she felt were unfair for her to be upset about build up and they burst out. I started crying too, and crying almost always gives me the hiccups, so she came out of the stall she'd been hiding in and tried to run away, but I grabbed her and asked if she wanted me to leave her alone. She didn't say yes or no, she just screamed. And then we both got taken to the principal's office. The principal tried to get me to drink water, and she said 'That never fucking cures her you stupid piece of shit!' So she got suspended. I just got detention.

"I missed her like crazy the whole time she was away. And when she came back, I told her that. She told me that she missed me too, but that I needed to know the truth about her and she'd tell me after school. After school, we climbed to the top of a tree so we could have some privacy. Once we were there, she told me about her hiccup fetish, and she broke down crying, talking about how she'd been using me and doing bad things to me even back when we were little, and by never trying to cure me and letting me hug her while I had the hiccups, she was objectifying me and abusing me and...honestly, at some point I stopped hearing the words. Because she was saying a lot of things, but underneath it was really just 'I'm a bad person and I made you dirty' over and over and over again. So I told her that she wasn't a bad person and that she didn't make me dirty. I told her that I didn't feel like she used me, and I didn't mind if I turned her on. I even kind of liked it now that I knew about it. And I guess after that we were sort of dating.

"It didn't take me very long after that to realize I was aromantic. It was honestly a little frustrating because I knew I wanted to be with her, but I couldn't really give her the thing she wanted. I didn't know a lot about polyamory back then, so I didn't realize we had options, but I knew I couldn't give her what she'd want from a 'girlfriend,' so I told her I couldn't be that. I was really clear that we could still have sex though. It took her a while to understand that. But once we were actually fully having sex, I really liked it, and I've liked doing that with her ever since. So she's not my girlfriend and I'm not hers, but she's still my best friend. And we have sex. A lot."

"...damn." I scratched the back of my head. "I knew you two were kind of married, but that's some soulmate-type shit."

"That's stupid, but I get what you mean." I snorted. "I'm an atheist. Susanna says she is too, but she's really just an uncatholic. That's a really specific kind of thing. And to the extent that she still believes in god, I think she might believe something similar. That we might have some kind of divine connection or something. I don't think that. But I know that I love her, and I've never loved anyone else more than her. And I know that I like spending time with her more than anyone else." She took a slow, deep breath. "I've been learning that she isn't enough though. Not for me. And I'm not enough for her. And that's scary. But learning it is a good thing. Because we shouldn't just have each other. We should have other people. Other people we share, and other people who are just for us. Even if we do spend our whole lives together like I'd like to, I'm so glad that we'll have other people too. Even if I don't know who all of those are yet. So I guess what I'm saying is..." she smiled at me. A real, big, serious Olivia smile. "Thank you for being one of our first people, Maya."

Holy shit, marry me.

"No." 

I froze. "...fuck, did I say that out loud?"

"Yeah." Olivia didn't look particularly bothered, but I knew that didn't necessarily mean she wasn't.

"Shit, sorry." I rubbed my face. "Uh...for what it's worth, I didn't really mean you. I sort of meant...your relationship? That, uh...that's probably not better?"

"I don't understand what you meant, but I know that that's the kind of hyperbole you think and speak in." After an awkward moment, Olivia started talking again. "I'd like clarification on why you said that, though."

"Honestly, I'd like that too." I laughed weakly. She stared at me. Fuck, she could make eye contact hard when she wanted to. "...I'm catching feelings for you two. And when I do, that's scary, because I've kinda steamrolled people with 'em before."

"I won't let you do that to me," Olivia said without even thinking. "That might mean breaking up with you at some point, but I don't see any reason that it would as of now. And Susanna definitely won't let you do that to her."

A laugh forced itself out of me. "Yeah. I think that'd be kinda like trying to steamroll one of those fuckin' cement poles that stick out of the ground at Target. Or something."

"For now, though, I'm having fun with you." Olivia's big, real smile came back. "And I'm so glad to have someone I can talk about Susanna with for real now. So I'm really happy you like her. And I really like that she likes you back."

I shook my head and sighed. "Yeah. I like that too, Liv." I hovered an arm over her shoulders and she leaned into my side, letting me wrap her up and cuddle her. "Yeah. I like that a lot."

[mademoisellewol]

An Itch to Hitch

|| CONTENT WARNING || Coursing of Arousal Level

Recalling those silent moments, where one would just want to shout into the abyss. When one with the kink would consciously and internally want to experience the very thing that would satiate, perhaps overflow their glass at an intense matter of circumstance.

Inducing would do such bliss, it would be enough, solely to subject themselves for it to happen, all on their own. Just imagining it sends a shiver down their spine just to feel, to hear, to see it unravel for their satisfaction. It won't take too long, hopefully. So then:

A quietly removed themselves out of bed, their yawn proving their lack of sleep. They headed down towards the open kitchen in their humble abode to start on their evening meal. It had been a long lazy afternoon, ought to move the muscles around. Rummaging of pots and utensils filled the room as A busied themselves with prepping a small dinner.

They hummed softly to themselves as they cook a light meal of crab and corn soup. A thought about the recent case they had, although it was months ago. How it jostled their entire middle torso, how they could control the volume and pacing at times, the feeling of drowning themselves into the feels, damn it all, they were getting distracted. Again.

A shook their head slightly, focusing on the cooking tasks in front of them, trying to push those thoughts to the back, sealed in a vault, figuratively. But the memories kept resurfacing, making it difficult for them to fully concentrate. They couldn't help but feel a subtle sense of arousal stirring within, even amid the kitchen preparations.

They took a moment to compose themselves, taking a deep breath. A reminded their other half that they needed to focus on the cooking, and not on the thoughts of inducing. But fwock, it was hard to ignore the images that kept popping up in their head. A continued to cook, their body growing ever warm with desire as the memories and thoughts lingered in their mind.

Distracting themselves did them any favor, that nagging and itching sensation would not go away. Perhaps they could find relief if they get a case, just for a few minutes. It was risky, but it might just give them the relief they craved.

They then quietly set aside the pot they were stirring from, turning off the stove for a moment. A reached into the pantry, rummaging around until they found something that would surely do the trick.

They grabbed a small liquid seasoning with spice bottle, hidden away in the back of the pantry. It was harmless spice with flavor, an item that they knew would trigger them. Of course, they will drizzle it over rice, silly of them to take it straight off the bottle.

Taking a deep breath, A unscrewed the cap, pouring a fair drizzle of the it onto the bowl of rice they prepped. Mixing it evenly, they took bite after bite. Chewing and swallowing the rice ever so quick and it would feel heavy as it slid down their throat.

"Mmmf-" They breathed momentarily before, "HMK!"

Immediately, a tingling sensation spread in their gullet, followed by the inevitable onset of hiccups.

"Mm…nnn…H'MUCK!"

A grimaced as the hiccups started to come, their body involuntarily jolting with each one. The sensations were a little stronger than they had anticipated, feeling vulnerable, but it was exactly what they needed in the moment. A leaned against the kitchen island, their breath hitching with each involuntary hiccup, the sensation both distracting and satisfying their internal craving.

Clutching their stomach as the hiccups continued, each one a gentle but firm reminder of the pleasure they were both seeking and resisting in the moment. Part of them wanted to revel in it, to give in to the sensations, but they knew they couldn't afford to linger for too long…

"Hirk!Hrmk!Hnk-GULK! Oof…"

A stood there for a few moments, letting the hiccups run their course, their body shaking and jerking slightly with each one. It was a strange mix of relief and discomfort, but damn, it was scratching that itch, giving it a brief respite from the internal battle.

Occassionally stifling a small groan or grunt as the hiccup episode came to an end. Their body relaxed slightly, the sensations slowly fading. They took a deep breath, trying to steady themselves before turning back to the stove, resuming the cooking as if nothing had happened.

It started again.

"Mmrk!-ooh…'scuse me…HIG'IRK!-HUCKLE-GRK!"

A said out of habit as they felt the familiar tingling sensation return to their throat. They tried to suppress it, but the hiccups flared up once more, stronger this time.

They clutched their stomach again, trying to muffle the sounds coming from their mouth. A's body shook and jerked with each involuntary hiccup; the sensations almost overpoweringly good.

A leaned against the counter, trying to stay upright as the hiccups continued. A groan escaped from their lips, the indulgence almost too much to contain. They couldn't help but feel both guilty and excited, the secret satisfaction of giving in to their desires mingling with the acknowledgment that they were playing a dangerous game.

They would lay both palms on their middle torso as it convulses, jostle, and jerk ever so quickly, it would drown them to arousal.

A's mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions as they allowed their other half to give in to the sensations. They pressed their palms firmly against their middle, feeling the involuntary movements of the hiccups ripple through their body.

"HUCK’ULP!-MMLP!-buh." They sighed; a grunt followed. They left their mouth open slightly only to end with, "Mmm…hnn-HIRK!uh!-sss-sHUCKS!..."

With each jerk and jolt, left speechless, they couldn't help the soft groan-moan that escaped their lips. Eventually, it subsided after a good long while, leaving an exhausted A content and knackered to do core. The capability to induce is too profound for them to possess, yet the pursuit of consciousness to do so at the ideal and appropriate moment should balance it all.

[elacular-kink]

Decent chance you already know them, but the Poly-techhic girls. For those who don't want to click through, in brief we have:

Susanna/Susie: Short, butch chinese american (adopted from china as a baby) who's got a hiccup fetish and some serious fucking feelings about it, feelings that she is pretty bad at expressing. She likes hoodies and somehow has, as the kids say, "rizz".

Olivia/Liv: A tall, skinny black girl who's autistic and chooses not to mask most of the time. She gets the hiccups extremely often, which led to her befriending Susanna and being the first to find out about her fetish. She's aromantic, but is bisexual and considers Susanna to be a life partner, albeit not a romantic one. She's also a bit of a troll.

Maya: The one who gives all the nicknames. A red-haired chubby and muscular white girl who wears glasses and tackles people while playing rugby. Eternally full of energy and looking for outlets for it, Maya causes chaos in the lives of just about everyone she meets, for better or for worse. She's also slept with half the people at their college.

Kiran/Kiki: A dark-skinned Indian american (born in america) trans woman. Both very tall and very fat. Extremely shy and sweet and also pretty naive. Autistic and bad at masking, but accustomed to having to do so. And crushing extremely hard on the girls generally and Susanna specifically.

All four are extremely polyamorous and have a tangle of relationships with each other (which isn't really that important, as they all toe or cross the line between friend and romantic/sexual partner anyway). So no reason they couldn't be friends or even dating people outside of their polycule, though I don't know that it would be a part of the actual canon.

...christ, my fetish fic has a canon.

Anybody wanna share hiccup ocs??

Maybe my ocs and your ocs can be friends

👉👈

I'm really in a writing mood, but I haven't written in such a long time...

Legit just info dumb your character(s) and I'll happily read and love them as well

[luvendiary]

👁👁 I'm the anon that asked for a silent/non-talker reader fic with hiccup many many moons ago, but if you still write for him, could it be with a prompt where reader's still not much of a talker on some days but would like to still passionately communicate, therefore inventing a sort of sign language system with hiccup under gothi's supervision, and maybe put in a bit about how stoick knows of their relationship (i visited this hole of fondness in my brain again, forgive me)

a/n: dearest anon. I am so sorry for gettin back to you so late. I haven't been writing much lately, but your request helped me sort of rekindle my love for it. I've been spending way to much time on my phone instead of doing the things I like. I'll try to put out more writing. i'm sorry if the ending is a bit janky, im a little out of practice. also, i don't know much about asl, so i apologize for any mistakes. thank you for your request!

Sweetest of Melodies (pt. 2)

pt. 1

The sound of soft humming flooded the room. You were so focused on the soft lulling sound that came from your throat that you were unaware that the place had gone quiet. When you did, however, you found that all eyes were on you, making you retract your head into your shoulders as the signs of embarrassment appeared on your face. You silently reached out for Hiccup’s hand in order to seek some sort of comfort.

‘Sorry’, you wanted to say, but your words failed you at the moment. You had come a long way since allowing yourself to speak more freely in front of the riders. That didn’t mean that you were still totally comfortable with letting yourself be heard. Instead, you liked being able to hear yourself better; that’s what most of your words were meant for anyway. For you to hear them.

“You should sing more often,” Astrid said as if it was no big deal. You appreciated her nonchalant attitude, it made you feel less judged. You knew the riders didn’t have bad intentions, it was probably still a little strange to hear you make a sound, which prompted their current reaction. But years of overthinking made you jump to the worst possible scenario, even if you knew it wasn’t true.

In return you offered her a shy smile. Hiccup sensed your discomfort and did his best to steer the conversation away from you whilst giving your hand a small squeeze.

Later that night it occurred to him that whilst you were somewhat comfortable speaking to him, it was still a big step for you to accommodate to this while having been mute for years.

He was visibly stressed as he realized that some of your relationship’s problems might stem from that. You weren’t used to communicating with anyone. Anyone besides Gothi.

That’s how Hiccup found himself knocking at your front door one early morning. Gothi opened the door, as he knew she would and assuming that he was looking for you (like he often did), she quickly signaled to him that you had gone to collect some items you had run out of. 

“Actually. I’m here to see you”, he explained with a nervous smile.

Gothi seemed surprised for a brief moment before inviting him inside.

Awkwardly, Hiccup made his way inside and found a stool to sit on. He watches as Gothi -much like you did whenever he came to visit- occupied herself with making tea. 

Once the tea was on the table, and she had poured a cup for him as well as one for herself, she stared at him patiently.

He took that as his sign to talk, and set the cup down after having had a sip. “I need your help,” he stated rather obviously.

The small woman raised her eyebrow before signing your name in the form of a question. 

“Yes,” Hiccup confirmed. “I just-” he sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “She’s come so far with speaking out more, and she’s doing great, but…I’ve just now realized that while she’s making all this effort, I don’t seem to be doing anything to understand her better.”

Gothi’s gaze softened.

“She tries so hard, all the time; to understand me, and help me understand her, I just feel as if it’s about time I did the same for her.”

Silence settled between them as Gothi took another sip of her tea before hopping off the stool she was sitting on and staggering off to one of her many shelves. 

“I guess, I was wondering if you could help me. Understand her better, I mean-”

 Not a second later a small book was slammed on the table. Hiccup jumped slightly, marveling at the frail woman’s strength. 

Upon further inspection he realized it was not a book but rather a journal. Littered with drawings of different hand signs and gestures and their respective meanings. Dust covered its pages, indicating how long it had been since someone opened it last.

Hiccup looked up at Gothi with admiration. “You made this?”

The woman shook her head and flicked back to the first page where your name had been scribbled down neatly. 

He chuckled as he stared down at the journal, “this is amazing.”

She nodded proudly. She had been the one to help you come up with this communication method, it had been your idea of course- but as the both of you developed it it made your bond grow stronger. She considered it to be hers as much as yours. 

Hiccup carefully tucked the journal away and stood up. Enthusiastically, he gave Gothi a quick kiss on the cheek and thanked her before bolting out of the house.

‘Good luck’, she signed as she watched the young man ride away on his dragon.

Hiccup was determined. His presence amongst the dragonriders had become sparse. When he wasn’t training or helping out in the forge, he was most likely practicing his signing skills. Even then, work seemed to come second to his newfound hobby. 

He found himself practicing with Toothless, as he signed him orders receiving a confused tilt of the dragon’s head in return. He stole moments in the forge, his hands mimicking the signs in between hammering metal; his usual rambling also appeared to be accompanied by matching signs. Even during dragon races, he would move his fingers in the air absentmindedly, his mind working through the motions while Astrid gave him odd glances.

You, on the other hand, had no idea what was going on. His absence was more palpable as the days went on. He still greeted you, still sent you small smiles and the occasional kiss when you crossed paths, but your moments together felt shorter. Less frequent. He always had somewhere to rush off to. Places to go, people to see, things he needed to do. 

At first, you didn’t think much of it—Hiccup was the chief’s son, after all. He had responsibilities. 

But as the days stretched into weeks, your nervousness grew. 

Had you done something wrong? Was he getting tired of having to put up with you? Maybe it was too much effort, too exhausting. Maybe he had realized that words were easier. Someone else would be easier…

The thought made your stomach twist uncomfortably.

You tried to push the thought away, but doubt seemed to creep into every corner of your mind. 

You found yourself slipping into old habits. Speaking less often and keeping to yourself. You had stopped going to the forge to keep Hiccup company while he did his work.

Maybe he needed space.

Astrid had taken notice of this change, trying her best to include you in whatever plan the dragon riders were currently in the midst of. Whether it was a trip to a nearby island or just having lunch together near the cliffside.

One afternoon as you took residence in the Great Hall while grinding herbs, you felt a presence approach you. Hiccup strode in, and you quickly averted your gaze as you focused on the task at hand.

“Where have you been?” he asked lightheartedly as his arms snaked around your waist and he pulled you closer.

You smiled nervously and just shrugged your shoulders.

“My dad's been asking for you. You don’t come by the forge anymore,” he continued as he nestled his head on your shoulder, pressing your back to him. 

“Just busy,” you replied curtly.

He noticed how your hands seemed to accompany your words now. One of them laid flat, with your palm looking downwards whilst the other stood vertically and moved side to side in a repetitive motion.

‘Busy’.

He hadn’t noticed that before. But now that he thought about it, your hands were always moving. You had been talking to yourself all along, in silence.

“I need to tell you something,” he said then, as he took a step back. His arms leaving your waist. You immediately missed the contact.

Your mind immediately jumped to the worst conclusion. 

Hiccup's hands flexed and unflexed at his sides and his shoulders did that shaky thing they did whenever he had a lot on his mind.

‘Leaving,’ you signed to yourself as you placed down the pestle.

His face turned into that of confusion, as his right hand mimicked what yours had just done.  ‘Leave?’ 

“What? No,” he mumbled, his eyebrows furrowed. ‘I miss you’

Your mind had been too slow to realize what was happening. “What?”

 ‘I miss you’ he signed again. This time followed by an ‘i love you’.

Your breath caught in your throat as a gasp escaped your lips.

His movements were slightly jumbled, not as smooth as yours or Gothi’s were. But the message was there clear as day. He was talking to her, with no words.

You stared at him for a long moment before finally reaching out, your fingers trembling as they brushed against his.

“I miss you too,” you replied. “So much.”

Hiccup grabbed your hand and pulled you in before sweeping you off your feet for a kiss.

“What did you mean ‘leave’?” he asked with a slight chuckle as he pressed a tender kiss to your neck.

Your face flushed, immediately embarrassed for your self-deprecating thoughts. You tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck but he moved his head to search for your eyes.

“Don’t tell me you thought I wanted to leave you,” he said, though the statement came out more as a question. 

“I’m sorry!” you said as you buried your head in his chest. “You just had been spending less time with me, and I thought you were getting tired of having to deal with me.” 

Hiccup pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Hey, don’t say that,” he whispered. “I could never get tired of you. I just—I wanted to learn. I wanted to understand you the way you understand me.”

You smiled up at him, adoration clear on your face. You stepped back and raised your hand slightly. 

‘I love you too’.

[kannady]

more than gold

pairing: sylus x non-mc reader

summary: you were getting flashbacks of a previous life or maybe you were just going crazy. a man lingered in your memories, plaguing your heart and mind. and who was desperately in need of your help?

a/n: where the extent of my creativity ends, @silverianni's begins. wonderful idea, but a not so great execution. im afraid i might not be able to write it in the way you anticipated. honestly, im not proud of this at all LMAO. but ill try my best. heres a snippet for now. its very basic but theres a couple more chapters to go. and once again, i cannot express how much i hate how i wrote this. but then again its 5 am. let me know your thoughts or should i even continue it?

Trudge. Trudge.

It was eleven, and you had just gotten off work. Sometimes you liked working at the local bar, but most of the time, like today, it was a pain in the ass. One drunk customer refused to leave, drowned himself in liquor, and forced you to sit through his sob story about how his wife caught him cheating and ruined his life.

Sigh.

You almost knocked some sense into him. But for what? He wouldn’t give a shit, and you’d lose your job. Not exactly a win-win situation. So you hoped you’d see him somewhere else. And maybe today was your lucky day.

“Come on, sexyyyyy! Let me take—” Hiccup. “—you ‘ome.” He flashed a grin at a young schoolgirl who had just stepped out of the academy.

“No, thank you, mister. I’m quite alright,” she replied politely, trying to step around him. But he grabbed her wrist.

“No!” he shouted, catching you off guard. “You brats ‘ave no respect for the elderly!” His grip tightened, and he started dragging her toward his car.

Time to strike.

You sprinted forward, swinging your satchel hard against his head. With a grunt, he released the girl, clutching his skull in pain. She seized the moment, darting away with a breathless “Thank you!”

“YOU! How dare you—” He tried to throw a punch, but you dodged effortlessly. “I’ll make this short.” A sharp kick to his groin sent him crumpling to the pavement, writhing and howling.

Smirking, you crouched beside him, slipping a hand into his pocket and retrieving his wallet. Your brows lifted. He was loaded. With feigned innocence, you slipped a hundred-dollar bill into your pocket. “You forgot to tip me.”

A satisfied smile spread across your face as you turned and walked toward your original destination.

“Only you and this flower… can touch me here.”

A whisper, hot breath grazing your neck. Instinctively, you clenched your fists and whirled around. “Okay, back the-” Alone. In the middle of an isolated alley. “-fuck up?” You scanned the area but found no one. Just a cat rummaging through the trash.

You frowned, confused. You’d definitely heard someone, someone who had been right behind you, whispered in your ear, then vanished. You were a bartender, but you never drank on shift. So you weren’t imagining things. Still, this wasn’t the time or place to dwell on it.

You kept walking until you reached your destination. For some reason, your friends thought a midnight get-together was the perfect way to spend the weekend. A few hours ago, you’d have agreed. But now, you were exhausted, physically and mentally. And that eerie whisper clung to your memory like a stain. You just felt… off. Shaking away your unease, you stepped into the restaurant, greeted by laughter, clinking glasses, and the familiar hum of old stories, enough to drown out your worries for a moment.

You ordered dinner, downed a drink, and reminisced about the old school days. It felt good to laugh like this after so long.

Then you froze. The air turned to ice.

There stood a man, his gaze locked on you. Silver-white hair, slicked back, with a few rebellious strands falling over his forehead. His eyes were ethereal. Crimson, like wine spilled over snow. They didn’t just look at you—they pierced you. His frown was barely perceptible as he spoke.

“Before you tried to kill me, did you consider it’d end like this?”

Suffocation. Like the oxygen had been sucked from your lungs. You gasped. “What the hell?”

“See! I told you it was a bad idea. Anyone would react like that.”

You blinked. Everything was normal again, just you and your friends, eating, drinking, laughing. No sign of the mysterious man. But the unease lingered.

You were not okay. You needed help. Now. Were you overworked? Drunk?

Questions flooded your mind. Absently, you excused yourself and headed to the restroom.

Staring into the mirror, you replayed the moment. Was it a memory? It felt familiar, like you knew him. But you couldn’t put your finger on it. The whisper in the alley, the glimpse of the stranger. What was happening to you?

You took a deep breath, turned on the tap, and splashed cold water on your face. Refreshing. Maybe you just needed sleep. That was the only explanation you’d accept. You weren’t crazy and you knew that.

Then you straightened and met your reflection.

“Please help me!”

Your head snapped around. Another voice. Female, desperate. Not a memory, but close. Too close.

[moechies]

yvvie honey i have a question for you…….. i saw u write for shuji n i wna ask do u think he’d be mean or sweet in bed ……..

i think he’s the worst aku bbie…

mister shuji is definitely in between me finks , because he loves to make you feel so good but he’s gotta make fun of you a little :< tease you and mock you till you cry pretty tears, and he’ll kiss them all up when you’re hiccupin’ so hard that you can’t even babble his name right anymore.

cw nsfw praise littl dubcon (?) not rlly but ! shuji loves coddling u :>

“shuji—“

“what is it doll ? fuckin’ messy girl.” he growls at the pool of slick below your blushed butt, cunny drooling non stop with a viscous mixture of your two’s cum.

“y—you’re bein’ s’mean!” you hiccup, forearm dropping across your face to hide away from the man. he’s merciless just as his words are when he presses his chubby cock head back into your sobbing cunt, letting out a loud chuckle when you gasp in a shock. “shuji, n’more!”

you’re embarrassed all around; from the loud squelches eliciting from your sopped cunt, to his degrading words.

“no, y’r gonna have to take more, hon. look at how well y’r doing. aww,” he shuffles closer to you, pressing his chest against yours. he groans feeling your pert nipples press against his tender skin, sensitive from overstimulating himself.

he tugs away the pliant forearm from your face, a thumb coming to swipe away those pretty little tears he adores a bit too much. he’s slow with his hips, but hits deep, and it feels fucking great.

“n—need your help, wanna cum. shuji, h-help me, please!” you whine, pulling on his arm gently towards where you two connect.

“oh, ya need me here don’t you?” his lithe fingers titter across your thigh, giving your swollen clit a mean pinch. you twitch and yelp at the pressure, chest boasting up against his in a shock. “h—help me.” you cry.

“angel girl, ask nice.” he tsks, giving your clit another mean pinch. you writhe under him this time, but he keeps you still and lodged against his heavy cock.

“but.. i did, shuji, please..” crystalline tears begin to build against your waterline yet again, edging the satisfaction of a breathtaking orgasm. “please touch m’clit, please, i need yo— you t’help me cum!”

he hums in content, a soft thumb pressing at the sensitive nub. you gasp, but the sensation slowly turns pleasurable once he starts swiping over your clit sloppily, pacing himself with his thrusts.

“good girl, hm? such a sweet little angel baby. now take it and make shuji proud. got it ?”