#'though he had just beaten them with nothing so... wait. WAIT. noth- ...oh you absolute BITCH!'

[nostalgia-tblr]

It's taken me thirteen years to realise that after making such a big deal of his lack of resources in The Eleventh Hour, the Doctor did in the end win by using nothing.

At which point, a few minutes ago, I went "Oh you absolute BITCH!" (I meant that affectionately, obvs.)

Look at him. Look at this absolute bitch (affectionate).

[cultofdixon]

Just Breathe, Love. I’ve Gotcha

Daryl Dixon • She/Her Pronouns • Babies come unexpectedly. It’s one thing being alone…thank god he was there • ANGST/SFW/NSFW - Implied Sex • TW: Pregnancy & Birth / Anxiety / Illness / Nightmares / Mentions of Miscarriage & Other Pregnancy Scares

Requested by: Anon

Y/N stood anxiously outside the house she shared with Daryl as it was practically brand new after the rebuild of Alexandria. She still couldn’t believe she convinced him to live with her above the surface. Nothing wrong with the basement just that things were changing and they’ll need more space.

Daryl finished getting packed for their trip to The Kingdom to help them for a month, but as he approached his bike gesturing with his body language for Y/N to join him…she hesitated.

“Love, cmon. If we leave now we can make it before sunset”

“Uh I can’t get on your bike though”

“What?” Her saying that confused the man extremely. “You’ve ridden on my bike before, what’s stopping yea now?”

“Fuck uh” Just say it. Just say it. “It won’t be safe for me and the baby, Dar”

The silence grew until Daryl simply blinked at his partner before throwing his pack on and getting onto his bike driving off. Y/N frowns thinking he needed to get some air after that news but before she even turned around, Daryl turned his bike around bringing itself into the garage.

“Dar?” She frowns taking a few steps toward the garage when Daryl came running out dropping his pack on the way and instantly engulfing her in his arms.

Y/N instantly latched onto her partner hiding her face in his shoulder as she started to sob happily hearing Daryl go on and on about how excited this is going to be for them. They were finally safe from any and almost every harm the world can throw at them.

They were going to be alright

First Trimester

…Maybe

The longer you get to know Daryl, you start to pick up on some things he does. In this very moment Maggie noticed two when she thought the archer was simply coming to the Hilltop for the community trading. Daryl, just a little, stuck out his tongue when he was in deep focus looking around Maggie’s office in search for one of her pregnancy books and another thing he did was his tiny finger taps when he was anxious. He is a very secretive and normally good at camouflaging, going unnoticed.

But she wasn’t going to stand there long. Only making herself known when she figures out what Daryl is looking for. That the moment he reached for the pregnancy book in her bookshelf, Maggie stepped into the room entirely.

“Find what you’re looking for?” Maggie smiles watching Daryl drop the book quickly turning to her.

“Yeah”

“Are yea gonna pick it up and take it? Didn’t take you for a seahorse, Daryl” Maggie teased watching him pick it up giving her a look. “How come Y/N didn’t—“

“Nah stop right there” Daryl quickly shushed her. “She’s comin’ next week to tell yea herself and she will kill me if she learns you knew from me”

“Oh boy you already fucked up that’s why you’re saying such” She smiles fighting back a laugh and failing. “Who did yea tell?”

“Rick”

“Oh” Maggie gave him a surprised look that quickly morphed into confusion. “Why would she be mad at you for telling Rick? He’s your best friend, brother even”

“Nah it wasn’t cuz I told Rick. It was when we had JUST found out” Daryl went silent after such and it didn’t take Maggie much to connect the dots as she brought herself to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

“Y/N is a very careful person. Your baby will make it and be absolutely perfect” She smiles at her friend before bringing him into her embrace feeling him tighten around her. “That baby is so so lucky to have you as a dad, Daryl. I can’t wait for you to experience it”

“Mags…”

“I don’t want to hear it. You’ve beaten yourself up about it enough and I know just saying that won’t make you instantly stop. But you’ve got to realize…we couldn’t have predicted what happen to have happened. Focus on the now Dixon” Maggie smiles parting from the man as he still hung his head low. “I won’t tell your partner that I know. But she better get her ass here soon so I can congratulate her”

Daryl returned back to Alexandria that night to find Y/N asleep on the couch after waiting a while for her man to come home. He set everything he was carrying down on the table as quietly as he could before approaching his girl and carefully picking her up. The action did cause her to stir just a bit but she didn’t care and brought her arms around his neck to secure her when he carried her upstairs.

“Long day?” She yawns out as he carefully places her on her side of the bed.

“A bit, sorry I was late” Daryl sat on the edge and took off his shoes as Y/N sat up enough to bring herself to lean against him until he was ready to climb into bed. “You gotta tell Maggie the news before it slips out of me” Which it already did.

“Mm. I have to go to get clippings from her for Alexandria’s gardens. Rick thinks we’ll have the water system done in about a month or two”

“You’re not allowed to overwork yourself, love” Daryl placed a kiss on her forehead before fully bringing himself to face her so he could kiss her completely.

Y/N wrapped her arms around him continuing to kiss her man as she brought herself to sit in his lap feeling his arms snake around her waist.

“What’s gotten into you, sunshine?” Daryl chuckles lightly to himself in between kisses feeling her get situated with her legs around his waist.

“Hormones.” Y/N giggles for a second before returning to her kissing. “You want me to stop?” She whispers only for Daryl to carefully bring her on her back onto the sheets as he towers her.

“No”

The next couple mornings were always spent sleeping in after the hours from the night before doing feeding into certain cravings.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, mamas” Daryl laughs kissing Y/N’s bare shoulder bringing himself to sit up watching his partner get up from their bed.

“Shouldn’t you be helping with the bridge plans this morning?” Y/N gave him a smile through the mirror above their dresser as she took one of his shirts slipping it on. “Instead of feeding my cravings” she continues to smile watching the archer get out of the bed shirtless in all his glory bringing himself behind her wrapping his arms around her.

“I’d always rather stay in bed with yea, than work” He chuckles kissing her temple. “‘Sides. We gotta tell Carol and Zeke the news”

“I’m still mad that you lied about not telling Mags. But thank you for getting the book…amongst other things” Y/N continued to smile as Daryl kisses her cheek before slipping away to get ready for the day leaving her alone for a moment.

Her smile faded when she opened the book to a part that talked heavily about complications. These “what to expect when you’re expecting books” have always been informative but Y/N never thought they’d be scary. Or feed into her fears.

It didn’t take long for Daryl to notice her sudden change in demeanor, especially on the drive to the Kingdom. He thought she was upset from their trip of 2 turning into five with Eugene, Rosita, and Rick tagging along. But she didn’t care about them joining and part of her didn’t talk about it with Daryl.

When they arrived, Y/N instantly got out of the car when she spotted Carol stepping out to greet them as Daryl tried to catch up but noticed his friend’s happy expression to the news falter only slightly until it went to warm reassurance when telling Y/N something. She soon pulled away from her to approach Daryl and hug the man.

“I’m gonna take your girl for a few hours.” Carol smiles still hugging Daryl as he instantly looked at Y/N for any sign that she was upset and all she gave was her usual smile that always struck him. “So don’t you dare come tracking us down.” She laughs pulling away from his embrace. “She’s in good hands, they both are”

Daryl trusted her, of course, but his worry still made him give his radio to Y/N knowing he’ll be with Rick when she’s gone and he always has one on him in case of emergencies.

“Be safe” He whispers kissing her cheek as she hums in response before going with Carol outside the Kingdom walls.

They soon found themselves seated behind a log after tracking down a small herd of deer as Y/N kept her eye on them with her hunting rifle in hand while Carol had her bow. She really kept her attention on her friend that glued her gaze on the buck.

What if something bad happens?

What if I get hurt and lose the baby?

What if I lose the baby?

Late term miscarriage?

Freak walker accident?

What if…

What if I die?

What if I die having the baby?

What if I need a c-section and it can’t be done?

What if—-

“It’s normal to be scared”

Her voice caught Y/N off guard in her thoughts as her emotions acted only by showing the tears form and roll off her cheeks. Carol frowns setting her bow down about to lay a hand to reassure her when a gunshot rang through and a thud echoed after.

The two were now looking at the buck Y/N had just shot down and as Y/N approached the down animal she noticed a deer and its baby run off.

I don’t want to leave Daryl and…fetus. I don’t want anything to happen to me Y/N sobbed and without any word from her end, Carol carefully brought her family into her arms holding her until she felt okay enough to go back.

Daryl wasn’t very helpful to the others when Y/N was gone. He honestly hope she had radio’d him so that he’d have an excuse to take off and find her. But she was okay when she came back. From what he gathered. When the two came back he offered to help prepare the meat but instead Carol brushed him off with a look to take care of his woman. Y/N didn’t say anything, didn’t even say anything to Carol, but he knew she just wanted him there in the moment.

Second Trimester

“I’ll be back in a week”

“I know. You still didn’t have to drop me off at the Hilltop like a daycare system”

“You get anxious alone in the house, sunshine. Rick and Michonne didn’t want you over because Judith is sick. Plus you’re helping Maggie with the garden layout designs.”

“Which you reminded me I couldn’t physical help with Hilltop’s” Y/N scoffs in a playful tone resulting in a smile Daryl wished to see from where he was at. Sadly the Sanctuary. “You’re missing out on a lot of movement…”

“She better calm the fuck down until I get there”

“Dead set on a girl?” Y/N smiles leaning against the headrest in the bed of the spare bedroom in the Barrington House, gently rubbing circles on her belly. “If that’s the case then, both your girls miss you.”

“I’ll be back to y’all soon”

“I love you, honey”

“I love you bee”

Y/N continued to smile holding the radio knowing she could continue the conversation with Daryl and he wouldn’t give a damn about his responsibilities at the Sanctuary just to continue for himself. He knew it was risky to take on the task of watching the shithole for a month, but both he and Y/N knew it was hard to say no to Rick. Though the biggest reason he said yes was knowing she wouldn’t give birth in the second trimester.

Shit can still happen but it doesn’t

Well, not literally.

Everything raced in Y/N’s mind as she watches Hershel Jr for an afternoon while Maggie gets a few things done for both her and her son, and the community she leads. Which included creating the farm plots outside the Hilltop walls as long as there were spikes protecting her home and the gardens.

“Your Uncle Daryl just loves seeing you, and I know he’s going to hog you when he arrives” Y/N smiles talking to Hershel Jr as he babbles while smiling up at his aunt. “You’re just…one happy little guy.” I miss Glenn she thought as she looked at his son feeling that awful anxiety return making her face contort to discomfort which the small child instantly took note of resulting in him mimicking her feelings. “No no no, I’m okay. You’re okay” she did her best at reassuring as she carefully picked Hershel up holding him protectively in her embrace quietly shushing his sobs.

A few hours passed and Maggie finally got a moment to herself as she plans to relieve Y/N of watching her son. But while she did expect Daryl to already be bothering his wife since he arrived an hour prior to her break, she was stopped by the archer.

“What are—-“

Daryl shushed Maggie quickly before showing that Y/N was asleep along with Hershel Jr happily laying on her enjoying the warmth she emitted. “Let���em sleep”

Maggie couldn’t agree more as she left him to admire the sight before she came back about an hour later for much needed baby time with her son.

When Y/N woke she noticed no baby and scrambled a bit too fast for her comfort resulting in her pause to hold her belly as Daryl instantly brought himself from the window to sit with her resting his hand over hers.

“Maggie got her son a bit ago. Didn’t wanna wake yea”

“You were supposed to wake me up when you got here” Y/N pouts only for her expression to instantly change to the bandage on Daryl’s thigh as she was instantly shushed by the man which was only going to make her angry.

“Nothin’ too serious just a bit of road rash”

“You spilled on your bike?!”

“Eh more like. Failed dismount” That rarely happens but one can imagine Daryl’s foot getting hooked onto his bike resulting in both him and the ride falling. Better than riding your bike and hitting a hole that sends you launching to your dea—-“Sunshine? You’re staring”

She really couldn’t help the tears that sprung on feeling Daryl’s calloused yet soft hands wipe them away when he noticed.

“I’m gonna be okay. Again, nothin’ serious” Daryl reassures, getting anxious when Y/N didn’t say another word on the matter but he knew she was thinking something. Her mind was never really one to be quiet. “Alright love, come here” he gestures for her to bring herself into his side leaning into him as he brought his arms around her, the hand in front of her instantly placing itself on her belly as she instantly brought her attention to such.

“She keeps kicking me in the ribs…but at least she’s positioned right”

“Good to know about the position…thing. But her kickin’ your ribs don’t sound comfortable”

“Want me to demonstrate?” Y/N jokes causing a small smile to break out when her man chuckled lightly to such before kissing her followed by a ‘no’. “Good. Shit sucks anyway”

Third Trimester

Daryl was already a hoverer. Now it was worse and a bit weirder. At least if you asked Y/N. She always found him somewhere in the room if he wasn’t right beside her and he’s really only hovering in case she “pops”. A word she now hates from what he uses it for.

“Siddiq is at the Hilltop. Should be back in the week in case you po—-“

“You have to stop saying that word. It’s weirding me out”

“Sorry” Daryl frowns watching Y/N struggle to get her shoes on and every time he tried to help, she would swat him away. Only frustrating the man who wants to take care of his pregnant wife.

The usual sigh of defeat is his indicator for him to go ahead and help.

“Do we have any pickles left?” Y/N asks with a pleading pout watching her man’s face change with his thoughts as he tied her shoes. “Or that jam Jerry made with his wife?”

“If this is another weird food combination, don’t make me try it” Daryl scoffs playfully but when he locked eyes with her she started tearing up and it was an instant shot through the heart. “No no please I’m sorry. I’ll try it if yea want me to”

“Yeah?” Her voice cracked watching him nod listening to him reassure her even if her mind was currently a pregnancy fogged mess.

While Daryl got up to get her her craving, Y/N felt that wave of anxiety, but with pain this time.

“Ouch” Y/N winced holding her belly and checking her watch that wasn’t totally rendered useless in the apocalypse where one can barely tell the time. It worked well for timing—-“Contractions?” She whispered to herself feeling the pain come suddenly the second time around. “Fuck.”

The archer didn’t come back immediately because her first “ow” followed by a few others, he didn’t hesitate to radio Siddiq or anybody in his vicinity to get him on. Once he was instructed on what to do while the doc makes his way over, Daryl stepped into the living room finding Y/N flinging her shoes off with a bit of struggle as she gripped her stomach.

“We gotta get you ready”

“Fuck off” She whined. “What the fuck do you think I’m doing” she cries when another painful contraction hit, making Daryl come to her side trying to help her up hoping their bed would make it more comfortable. But she immediately fought him making her cry more when she thought she had hit him too hard.

“Y/N. I’m gonna carry you”

“You’re gonna drop me”

“I’m not”

“But I’m fucking HUGE and in PAIN. You’re only going to irritate me”

“Well that ain’t new. You used to push me off the bed” Daryl scoffs not caring anymore about the love taps he was receiving when picking up his partner.

“Because you are a human heater! But then I’d start sobbing” She states, already doing so as she held onto Daryl when he carried her. He debated taking her to the infirmary instead but she’s fighting him just from moving her from the couch to the bed. It would’ve been worse going from the house to the infirmary.

“I’ve gotcha, love”

“You’re gonna drop me”

“Do you want me to drop you?”

“No!”

“Then I’m not” Daryl tried to fight back his laughter when he finally got her to bed, adding his pillow with her several ones to have her sit up. “I gotta radio Siddiq see where he’s at”

“Please don’t leave me” Y/N sobbed holding onto his arm as she curls up a bit when another contraction struck. Daryl held her arm feeling her nails dig into his as it only made his anxiety worse, imagining what hers was.

“I ain’t going anywhere love” Daryl reassures as he had his radio on him.

The entire time Daryl was on the radio trying to get an ETA on Siddiq, Y/N laid there uncomfortable as the tears build up thinking the worse possible things that could happen without a doctor or at least someone who’s delivered babies being there. She loosened her grip when he started to pull away only to get the things needed that Siddiq was telling him from the other side.

“Siddiq is close and he’ll come straight here” Daryl states setting towels down on the side of the bed by her feet. “Yea need anything? Y/N?” He frowns watching her hold her belly protectively. “Hey? Love—-“

“It’s gonna hurt…I-It’s already hurting but once she’s—-“

“Yeah but once she’s out then it’ll get—-“

“Oh it won’t be the same. It won’t be the same” Y/N started to laugh nervously concerning Daryl a bit given she was still crying and her contractions were getting closer. “What if I tear?!”

“Stitches”

“What if I bleed too much and—-“

“We’ve talked about that but not in the sense of this” He gestures to the situation. “We have solutions to these problems”

“Not if I die!” Y/N snaps suddenly and before Daryl could even reassure that anxiety, Siddiq knocked on the door making himself present along with other supplies needed.

It was about time and Y/N wasn’t ready. She wasn’t ready this entire pregnancy because of everything that could go wrong and how much pain it’s going to become. Her grip on Daryl worsened, at this point he thought she was going to break his arm.

“You have to push on the next contraction, Y/N. Okay?” Siddiq’s words just went straight through her head, all she felt was the pain and Daryl’s hand squeezing hers. Which led to—-

“I-I can’t…” She sobbed to Daryl as he gently brushed away the hair sticking to her face. “It’s hurting and it’s getting worse. What if—-“

“Hey…just breathe, love” Daryl reassures bringing his free arm around her shoulders looking only at her as if it was only them in the room. “Breathe with me, alright?” And so she did while squeezing his hand every breath that was difficult to fulfill. “You’ve got this, sunshine. Just a few more then a lifetime with our girl”

Oh how the pain was all worth it in the end, and the anxiety simply slipped away…

The soft cries filled the room and both of their eyes were drawn to the little girl being held up wrapped in a towel. Y/N started to sob as Daryl pulled away for just a moment to cut the cord before being handed their daughter. He was already teary-eyed but now the archer was sobbing when he held their daughter and finally handed her to her mother.

Just breathe Y/N smiles through tear filled eyes at their little girl. Oh this beautiful little girl she held her close gently placing a kiss to her forehead.

“You did perfect, mamas” Daryl kisses Y/N’s forehead feeling him bring himself back to holding his partner as she held their little one.

“Thank you…”

“For?”

“For helping me bring this beautiful little girl to the world”

[cheesus-doodles]

So if it was Mikey that was getting married would the wedding be a lot smoother or is izana crashing the wedding too?

Link to relevant Wedding Ask 1 ; Ask 2

Masterlist

‎

Been a while since I answer a ask and since this came in ;-; im sorry its been almost two years...

No doubt that anything related to Mikey would be absolute chaos, and doubly so if Izana is involved.

Considering just Mikey to begin with, the rest of the Toman founders already aren't very happy - not because you picked Mikey over them or anything of the such (with the exception of Kazutora of course, this baby boy is seething with envy). Okay maybe all of them are a bit jealous over the whole situation, seeing that the blond-haired airhead who was probably the least capable of caring for another person being the one you chose. But still, putting aside their jealousy, the other five just know that it'll be a huge, huge uphill struggle its going to be having to wrangle him into behaving himself so that you would have the time of your life that you deserved.

Getting Mikey to propose to you to start is a fight in itself, because this baby boy doesn't want to bother with anything, not even proposing, lest of all a full wedding - after all, why care when you were already as good as his? Just wants to move in immediately and start gate-keeping cuddles, forehead kisses and head pats. So right from the beginning, it is the other five Toman founders pulling the strings; okay maybe four, because Kazutora would stubbornly refuse to do anything but cling to you and cry for attention. He does not support this wedding one bit and will not hesitate to make it known (even tried asking you to marry him with an onion ring that he was in the midst of eating), though all he gets in return was reassuring pats and extra love.

Baji and Draken pull their weight for the proposal - the First Division Captain would secretly take your ring size while playing a game of chopsticks (don't ask how, he's an expert), while Draken and the brothel girls would pick out a ring. Your wedding dress has 100% been sorted out many years ago by Mitsuya, delicately designed and impeccably crafted to your exact taste and dimensions, and Mikey is getting side-eyed and threatened into being measured for a custom suit if it was the last thing the Second Division captain does. Pah bless his father's real estate company connections has a venue down pat, and Kazutora is brow-beaten in helping with the decorations on the threat of sending you off on a honeymoon with Mikey and without him.

Everyone and anyone would be threatened to tiptoe the line - your wedding will be nothing but perfection, and you would repay their efforts will lots of attention and affection of course.

The guest list is short and vetted over and over again. Immediate family only, no strangers, and absolutely no other men (absolutely not, especially if it wasn't someone the Toman founders knew). You having guests at your wedding was already something they compromised on because they knew you had several people you desperately wanted to invite.

Having to drag Mikey to the actual wedding is an entire issue altogether, and it required all four of them to stuff the stubborn and whiny boy into his suit and whisk his ass off to the wedding venue. Seeing how excited you were for your big day only made the other founders more determined to make sure it goes off without a hitch. The Toman President is tied to a chair and Draken even seats on him so that he doesn't go running off to find you and ruin the surprise of what your wedding dress looked like. Not like Mikey cared, no. He just couldn't wait for cuddles and those handmade taiyakis that his friends told them you had on hand (it was a lie).

But then, for some reason unknown to even god himself, if you somehow caught not only Mikey's but Izana's attention. Oh boy.

Izana is bound to overhear about all the preparations for a wedding and quickly puts together that you, the Tenjiku princess (not Toman's, definitely not, not in a hundred years), were getting ready to marry Mikey, and throws an absolute fit. Unacceptable, outrageous, and downright heresy. Would attempt to storm over to your place and demand an answer, had to be held back from doing so by the combined force of Kakucho, Rindo, Ran and Mochi, who rather not their president start a gang war this very moment.

But this tanned boy was not going to let this slide so easily, no way in hell - he knew what those Toman bastards were planning, and he wasn't going to let them get away with keeping you all to themselves, not when you're probably just going along with it so that you don't make your so-called friends feel bad. So of course Tenjiku starts devising their own plan. Kakucho outright kidnaps you from your school to go ring shopping, biting his tongue and lying that it was a friendship ring (Ran had to be stopped from bursting out laughing). Izana got huffy getting fitted for a suit, and Rindo awkwardly shuffling by the side didn't help much either.

At last when your wedding day rolled around, everything was ready.

And as you started walking down the aisle, Mikey waiting at the end, Tenjiku springs their plan into action. They gate crash your wedding right through the front door, Kakucho, Ran, Rindo and the other executives immediately jumping on the Toman founders while Izana rushes straight through. The white-haired boy barely even having to stop as he sweeps you up into his arms, makes a split turn, and then proceeds to rush back out with just an eep from you, with a mind to get you to his arranged priest/official and making you sign his own document of marriage. Mikey letting out an outraged shout as he gave chase, Mitsuya is shouting, cursing and telling Mikey to be careful with his suit and don't dirty or tear your white dress.

Ends up starting a gang war anyway at your wedding, with Izana expertly turning to intercept a flying kick from Mikey just in time while balancing you in his arms, while the audience (however limited, no one else is allowed to look at you after all, the Toman founders would never allow it) are left looking on in utter disbelief at the fight breaking out in front of their eyes. You probably having to end up calling off your wedding more bemusedly than not when the whole thing devolved into a screaming match with both Izana and Mikey pinching and pushing at each other while insisting you pick one of them right this instance.

Honestly, you thought that getting married to one of them would settle all of them down, since you would be "safe" and they would be able to continue to "protect" you. You didn't think that gang lines would still be drawn, but obviously you were mistaken. Definitely have thought about just picking a third neutral party to marry, but knowing your very fussy, very overprotective baby boys, that would just drag more people into the fight.

[masschase]

“White? I ain’t never fuckin’ seen her wearin’ white.” He shrugged. "Don’t know what to tell you mate; she was definitely wearing white.”

This is from chapter 22, context below, but my post about how Matt and Casey first met in person (as well as why he didn't recognise her despite the surveillance in 2014) is here.

Unsurprisingly this is a line from Matt to Johnny. It comes about after they time jump to 2006 Stilwater so Matt can get his fleur-de-lis tattoo and Johnny can get his Freckle Bitch's.

Johnny surmises that Matt might have a bit of a thing for the Boss because he gets a little smiley when Johnny mentions she'll be so happy he made it official.

Matt admits his attraction but that he's trying his best to shake it. When he can't seem to think of anything that can change Matt's feelings, Johnny advises they hide and watch the exit of the local brothel. Eventually a tall teenage boy comes out, goes into FB's to get food, and then comes out again, throwing Matt's tray aside angrily to sit at their table.

“Johnny, he’s going to see us.“ he whispered. “Why the fuck are we watching some kid eat Freckle Bitch's?” “Look at the kid properly, Miller.” the other man hissed back. He looked again, hoping the bush was camouflaging them sufficiently or they were going to get fucking arrested here. Skinny, delicate and kind of beaten up, short hair with a long fringe poking out of his hoodie, looking very much like a child despite Johnny’s assurance otherwise. Eating his burger and chips like he hadn’t had a meal in days. He looked up, almost straight at the bush where they were hiding. Shit, should they run for it? Or... Fuck. Those eyes. First time he’d seen those eyes and not found them attractive. Cute enough on a kid, but nothing more. Absolutely drop dead gorgeous on a woman, though. “Oh shit." “There ya go.” “That’s the Boss!” “Yeah.”

Johnny admits that whenever he gets into the "gee, my best friend sure has a nice pair of tits" danger zone, he reminds himself who she is, who she was when he first met her(of course, forgetting this when they reunited is precisely why Johnny slept with Casey), and it puts him off.

They end up returning to their own time after angry-2006-Boss nearly catches them. Johnny asks if it helped and Matt says this line. Johnny suggests he'll just have to control himself and reminds him to "side with the wife" because he's hoping to ask Asha to be his girlfriend. Eventually.

If anything, he and the Boss are flirtier than normal that night because it's been brought to the forefront of his mind and because they're drinking the wine Casey and Asha brought back from their time jump to a suffrage protest as shown here. Over their tea afterwards he makes the catastrophic mistake of looking into her eyes, and then decides Johnny's trick is worth a try.

Kid at Freckle Bitch’s. Kid at Freckle Bitch’s. Way too young kid at Freckle Bitch’s stuffing a burger in her mouth. Not hot. But then... woman on balcony. Woman on balcony. Most beautiful woman in the world on a balcony. Woman with a body like a fucking hourglass on a balcony. A woman he'd slow danced with. A woman who a few years later he hadn’t wanted to stop kissing because it felt so good. A woman he watched TV with and made tea for and joked with and touched more than he probably should and imagined in his bed. A woman whose gang's logo was permanently attached to his hip. A woman who he’d forever see in a long white dress. Side with the wife. Fuck. “I uh... I better go, Matty.” she said swiftly. The tea being decaf, it clearly hadn’t balanced out her tipsiness. She came up behind him and hugged him over his shoulders, kissing him on the cheek and smelling of wool and wine and cinnamon and burnt paper, and then she was gone. He waited until he had finished his tea to leave. Running into her outside their rooms seemed dangerous right now.

They managed not to see each other again that night. But that doesn't mean they managed to avoid making some unsuitable choices. They share a wall after all.

[izzy-b-hands]

Day One: Negotiations or Swords

It's Ed's birthday, the first one with Stede and Izzy working together to buy him gifts.

SFW, fairly short, and silly lol

---

"You can't just buy him a sword," Stede scoffs. "He has plenty!"

"No reason to not have another," Izzy sets aside what has to be the fiftieth sword he's looked at in the shop. "Not this one though. Besides, is that not a sword in your hands now?"

"It's a letter opener!"

"For what size of letter would you ever need a letter opener that big?"

"Maybe another shop could service you both better," the shopkeeper says.

"Oh no," Stede chuckles. "You're the last one in the port that we haven't been to yet! It has to be here, or nothing at all!"

"You've answered your own question then," she says brightly, and suddenly they're both being tugged to and tossed out the door.

She yanks the letter opener from Stede's hands, and just like that, neither of them has anything for Ed's birthday.

"Do you think the shop with sweets is still open?" Stede ponders as they watch the sun begin to set.

"An hour ago, yes," Izzy replies. "I'm not going back without something. I've never missed a birthday gift for him yet, and I'm not starting now."

"Surely you've had one slip up!"

"Yeah, and that night I spent escaping the local jail," Izzy mutters. "Ed loved the key to the cells that I gave him though."

"Fuck off, that's clever."

"Clever is a generous word for it. Was all I had on me."

"Well, what have you got on you now?"

Izzy pats down his pockets. "Bit of glass from the beach. You?"

Stede grins and pulls something from his jacket pocket. "Bit of interesting metal I nearly stabbed into my hand when I tripped near one of the smithing shops. I've had an idea."

Fifteen minutes and an alarming amount of combined money and begging to one of the smiths later, and they have it:

A tiny, delicate sword, with a blade made of Stede's scrap metal and a hilt of Izzy's sea glass.

"The only way we could have improved on this is to have cleaned out the sweets shop too," Stede says as they make their way back to the beach. "When did you pick up that glass, by the way? I don't recall seeing you looking for any when we left everyone."

"Might have gone ashore early, looking for myself," Izzy makes the most hesitant eye contact with him. "What of it?"

"I'm glad you did."

"Oh."

Izzy's hand slips into Stede's the closer they get to the bonfire on the beach, and to the rest of the crew.

"Roach!" Ed calls as he motions them over to him. "You can start serving now; everyone's back!"

"What took so long?" Roach asks. "It's been hours, and the rest of us-"

"I'm sure they had a good reason," Ed interrupts. "No one in the village is dead, right?"

"No, nothing like that," Stede gently nudges Izzy. "I can't wait; let him have it!"

Izzy pulls the tiny sword from his vest pocket. "You'll never guess how much that cost based on how it looks."

Any nerves they had about his reaction disappear as Ed's eyes light up.

"Look at you," he coos to the sword. "So teeny! Absolutely miniscule! Where on earth did you two find this?"

"Stumbled upon it," Stede replies quickly, ignoring the giggle Izzy barely chokes back. "More or less."

"This is almost better than Buttons' gift," Ed smiles. "Thank you; I love it."

"What did Buttons get you?" Stede frowns. "I haven't even seen him since this morning."

"Wrangled a squid so I could swim with it for a bit!"

Stede gives Izzy's hand a gentle reassuring squeeze. There's no way they could have beaten that.

"And the squid and Buttons are now..." Izzy leans back to peer past everyone to the waves.

Ed's eyes go wide. "Probably fine."

"Should we ask Roach to keep the food warm while we-"

Ed nods, and then he's off to the waves rolling onto the sand, calling for Jim and Olu and everyone to sound off if they've seen Buttons, please let them have seen Buttons recently-

But not before he kisses them both, and gently tucks his new sword into one of his jacket pockets, leaving them smiling like idiots while they help search the shore.

[skylarstark4826]

Set just when Mick and Leonard leave ford the Legends.

Lisa rushed into Jitters and waited around lazily at the counter. She really needed to get away from her idiot brother and his even more stupid partner. She could't believe that she came back to the warehouse after driving around the state and what did she find? Nothing and no one.

Leonard left a note telling her not to do any big heists without them. And then said they were trying to go on a time traveling mission without her.

She honestly thought they would include her in more stuff since she joined them. But no, Leonard thought this one was "too dangerous" for her.

"Who the hell does he think he is" Lisa thought angrily.

She wasn't some little kid anymore, frankly she had never really been a kid. She had learned to handle herself since she was 7 years old. How to avoid questions from "helpful" adults and teachers, how to punch someone, how to make dinner for herself when Lewis was too drunk or didn't bother to come home that night.

Do it yourself or starve by yourself. That's what she learned.

She had been so excited to join her brother and Mick in all their heists together, the thrill of going on the run, the money she would get, the absolute pride when she took a diamond encrusted watch that would feed her for years off the wrist of another smarmy yuppy guy that she met at a club.

Oh yes, life in the bad lane was good.

And then the two left, telling her to not do anything "dangerous." Right. She would show them, maybe she was going to go steal from the bank again, no she was going to crash the White House. That would show them.

She knew she secretly disappointed her brother when she asked to join him instead of going to collage and getting a degree. He always said that he wanted her to do better but learning had never been Lisa's style.

Besides wherever Len went, she tended to follow. A habit that remained from her younger years when she would follow Lenny around to avoid Lewis.

She glanced around the door. So cheery and slightly boring with it's clear-cut walls that reminded her of a duller colored version of Starbucks.

Normally she would have headed over to Saints & Sinners or another store for a pack of alcoholic drinks but she decided she wasn't going to add drunken stupidity to her mess of feelings right now. She needed to think and stew about what Leonard and Mick did to her. Then plan how she was going to roast them for leaving her when they came back.

She was still glowering about it when a long-haired latino boy entered the cofee shop.

"Cisco Ramon" Lisa smirked. She remembered him fondly. He had been rather cute when she was lying to him before his kidnapping, and he held a certain charm that Lisa couldn't hep smile at.

"Cisco Ramon" Lisa smirked. She remembered him fondly. He had been rather cute when she was lying to him before his kidnapping, and he held a certain charm that Lisa couldn't hep smile at.

Then there was the whole thing with her father. She really appreciated what he did for her. Saving her life, and Lenny's life and everything. The kiss was especially good. She never thought that such a dork like him could be a strong kisser. He beaten her tongue quickly and that just made her want to pull him closer. Make the kiss never end.

"Hell-O, Cisco" Lisa purred, sidling up to him in line.

"Oh Lisa, I didn't know, I mean I didn't think you would still be, you're back um...um hi" Cisco squeaked

"Thought I was still out of town. Well I'm back" she smiled, deciding to screw him "I came for you, Ramon"

"Really?" he blushed, looking so pleased that Lisa almost hated to burst his bubble. Almost.

"Well mainly for some more cons but you were a stop I was planning to make too" Lisa said, as the barista called up her order.

"More heists? But I though that Captain Cold and Heatwave.." he trailed off when he saw her glare "You're all alone here?"

"Not all alone. Just temporarily in charge of stealing everything from Central while they go do whatever they're doing." Lisa said, taking a sip of decaf

"Go time traveling with Rip" Cisco offered

"Yeah, that." Lisa rolled her eyes

"I get it. My girlfriend, well my ex-girlfriend Kendra also left to join them." Lisa raised an eyebrow.

"Girlfriend? Why Cisco? Have you've been holding out on me" Lisa grinned, imaging what goods he must be hiding under the covers.

Cisco blushed furiously, "We're in public, Lisa"

"I see...Can't you at least give me an estimate" she chewed her lip, stifling a snort at his horrified expression of embarrassment

"No!" Cisco said a little too loudly, drawing harsh looks from two of the tables near them.

"Guess I'll find out myself." Lisa finished, earning another embarrassed glance from Cisco as he looked to see if anyone was actually listening to their scandalous conversation.

Deciding to let him off the hook, she moved to another topic "So what's so special about this ex?"

"Oh well she is really sweet, and into nature, and she just moved here and she has the best sense of humor. She actually quotes Star Wars movies!" Cisco started to ramble on.

Lisa put a finger to his lips, silencing him "I meant why was she chosen to go on the mission" she said. She felt a little twinge of jealousy when he started listing all the things he liked about his ex. She coils be sweet if she was in the mood too, and she knew Star Wars quotes. She didn't know them voluntarily, but what girl would like Star Wars voluntarily? This ex probably just googled the quotes to impress him.

"Oh can't really say. Flash stuff" Cisco answered

"So you have to really be close with the Flash to get on" Lisa mumbled. She guessed her brother fit the bill, he knew his identity and everything. Still it was unfair, she wanted to tangle with the big guns for once.

"You must wish you could join him" Cisco nodded, as he paid the cashier for his cup. He said it matter-of-factly and not at all with pity or attempt to comfort her.

"Just to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid. Maybe steal something worthwhile." Lisa replied.

She wished it hadn't happened so soon. she still wanted to talk to him about killing their father, and it had only been a few months since she started helping him with thefts. She really did want to spend time with him. Make up for those years he took care of her by being a useful partner that he could respect.

"You know if you ever..want to..like if you have nothing else to do..um you can stop by the Labs. I always need a movie buddy" Cisco suggested. His eyes looked at her sincerely, and she could tell that he meant it as an honest invitation. Not just to get into her pants like so many other guys.

"I would like that, I'll think about it" Lisa said

They sipped their coffee in companionable silence as they leaned on the counter.

Suddenly Cisco's pone ranged loudly with some techno beat and he almost dropped his cup. He scrambled to open the phone.

"Yeah uh huh no way! Got it, on my own" Cisco nodded intently from his side of their phone conversation looking serious and slightly worried.

He turned it off and chugged the rest of his drink.

"Well duty calls" he nodded to her as he started to walk out the door. Lisa decided to make her decision now while he was still in the shop, less of a chance for her to start stewing about the stupid time traveling thing again.

"Hey Cisco" she shouted as he was about to close the door behind him, "I'll see you Saturday" she waved her cup of coffee and saw a genuine smile replace his worried frown.

"Great meet you at the Lab" he called and raced off

Lisa sipped her drink again, noticing that it tasted sweeter. Satisfied, she dumped it in the trash and walked out.

There was no time to give too much thought to her brother and Mick. Maybe an hour or two of planning revenge. But then she would have to get a head start on finding an outfit for her date. She desperately needed to steal some new jewelry.

She was so glad that she chose to get coffee today.

[coupsie-daisies]

The Things I Would Do (The Beauty Mark of Love) | Lee Felix

Pairing: Elven Prince!Lee Felix x Fae Prince!GN Reader

Genre: Fantasy AU, Royalty AU, Fake Dating, Enemies to Lovers (light), Hurt/Comfort

Summary: The war is centuries old, and Felix is determined to put an end to it at all costs. A wedding was in his plans, but falling in love was most certainly not. He, however, takes it much better than his fiance does.

Word Count: 30k (I’m so sorry)

Warnings: Cussing, Mentioned Parental Death, Felix is really really in love, They argue, several mentions of war, fae centric racism?

A/N: This was written as a part of the clownracha secret santa fic exchange for @sunnytaes​. I got a little carried away so it’s quite long, and there might be some smaller pieces with this couple in the future

Tags: @dragonofthenorth0726 // @wooyussy // @burningupp-replies // @bunnypig18​ // @ferrethyun​ // @tyungun​ // @brownieracha​ // @kwanisms​ // @snow-pegasus​

Masterlist

This fanfiction is property of @/hobi-is-golden, reposting on any platform without explicit permission is prohibited

Oh the things I would do

To be loved by someone as beautiful,

And thrilling, and true

As you are, my love.

I would clip my wings

And forfeit my freedom,

I'd bring you anything you crave.

I would give up the air from my lungs

If it would make you love me,

Even if only for a moment

The walls of the Fae castle stretched tall, shimmering in the mid-day light in a way that was nothing short of magical.. The stone was polished so bright that Felix's reflection on it seemed to dance as he walked. A few of the palace guards were surrounding him though, so it was hard to see it in any substantial way.

He could feel the disdain in the air as they spoke to each other. It was a language he didn't recognize, but it sounded absolutely mesmerizing. He caught himself tensing up at the sound of it. Not knowing what was being said about him made his worries spike. But he wasn't a quitter, and he was well aware that he could very well be marching towards his own death. He wouldn’t have come if he hadn’t at least partially come to terms with that fact.

"Stay," One of the guards ordered. Felix nodded quietly, watching two of the men pass through the looming double doors in front of them. They should have made a noise, slammed shut behind them or something, but the sound was something akin to the flutter of a flag in a breeze. Quiet, smooth, and light as a feather. He couldn't help his fascination. Everything about the Fae realm was a mystery, sans the maps he'd seen in his father's war meetings. It looked nothing like those lifeless maps in person.

He'd been thinking about it his entire travel through the country, it was nothing like what he'd imagined it to be. The city was beautiful, buildings that towered tall and immaculately sculpted, yet somehow wholly welcoming. The streets felt like they’d simply grown from the earth, some cobblestone and inlaid with gems, and some just bare, beaten down dirt paths.

The halls of the palace were silent as the group waited for Felix to be welcomed through the doors, eerily so given how many of them there were. But Felix wasn't in a hurry to break the silence. His people were already not favored by the Fae, and he was pushing his luck by showing up out of the blue like he was.

It may have been mere moments before the gleaming doors opened again, but it felt like eons had passed. A voice spoke, calling him to enter, low and twinkling like the wooden wind chimes they had back home. He listened, pushing out a slow exhale and running through all of the rules he'd been taught growing up. Do not speak unless spoken to lest you speak over and offend. Don't make any sudden movements, keep your hands where they can be seen so you cannot be blamed for any attacks you haven't caused. Speak directly, the Fae are tricky creatures, but they're honest to a fault.

"You are a brave one, son of the Elves. Coming here unannounced and requesting a hearing with a busy king." The voice came again, booming from the creature seated at the far opposite of the young prince. He looked deceivingly young, hardly thirty in human years. But the Fae lived even longer than Felix's people, and the King was surely over three hundred years old. Felix inclined his head silent thanks for the praise. Brave, he thought, or incredibly foolish. He feared he'd find out which one soon enough.

Guards lined the room, and it had him on edge knowing that they were just waiting for him to make one wrong move. He knew better than to look at them. He looked at the King instead, who straightened on his throne, drawing the moment out, watching the prince with a fiery gaze.

"Can I offer you anything? You must surely need rest after such long travels." The king said after a few moments. Felix smiled politely.

"Your kindness is most appreciated, your majesty, and I give my utmost apologies, but I have to decline. I'm afraid I can’t stay any longer than necessary. And I also give my apologies for disrupting your busy schedule." He bowed his head for a long moment. The king made a soft hum, but not one of disdain. If nothing else, Felix's politeness and respect was surprising coming from an Elven born royal.

"Then I will not keep you. What is it you've come for?" He asked.

"I have come to seek an audience with your prince, if you will allow it." He looked up, watching emotion flicker over the man's face. It was hard to pinpoint exactly what it was, something skating dangerously close to rage. Felix's heart leapt into his throat. He had a terrible feeling that he might have stepped into something he shouldn't have. But he had to do what was necessary for his people, and if it meant that he fell at the hands of the fae folk, then so be it.

"Who are you to speak with my child?" The king asked sharply, his voice no longer as melodious as it had been at first, now more like sandpaper against Felix's eardrums.

"I come as the future ruler of one nation seeking the alliance of the future ruler of yours. I wish no ill intent, and have brought no weapons with me into your presence. I simply ask for a few moments of their time, your highness, it would be deeply appreciated to have an opportunity to speak with them." He said, his voice steady with confidence that he surely wasn't feeling in that moment.

Felix was a prince, trained in the art of diplomacy since before he was old enough to pronounce the word, but there was something about standing in front of a king who had nothing but contempt for your people that would send a chill down anyone's spine. Even more so when he had no one to turn to if things went awry.

"If you're here to make alliances for your country, you're better to do them with me, young prince." The words were said with an edge, and Felix held his breath. "You have no business with my child. I will not grant your request."

"I'd like to hear him out, father,"

Felix's head jerked to the source of the voice without his permission, watching as you stood up from your seat to your father's right. He hadn't even noticed you to begin with. You looked almost bored with the interaction, but your eyes held a curious glint that was impossible to miss as you looked at him.

"No. Not unless he can give an explanation for his coming here unannounced with no proper reason to speak to you." Your father waved his hand dismissively, and a few guards stepped forward to escort Felix out of the room. And despite his high hopes for this interaction, Felix would take a polite escort out over becoming public enemy number one of the fae realm.

"He cannot give a good reason without an opportunity. I ask you to reconsider and allow him a few minutes to speak with me," You continued to press on. You held your head high, a confidence that Felix had nothing but respect for. Your father looked at you, and the sparking glare shared by the two of you lasted so long that Felix was half worried the room might ignite.

There was a silent conversation there, a challenge, or maybe a plea. But eventually your father looked away. He turned back to Felix with an intensity that almost made him shrink in on himself.

"You have my blessing. Remember your place, little prince." He said, and he stood. You stepped forward ahead of him, striding towards the elven prince with a grace that almost made it look like you were floating. When you were face to face with him, you bowed your head ever so slightly. A smile rose onto your face, and it made Felix uneasy. Something about it felt too sly, too curious.

"Shall we go somewhere more private, your highness?" You asked, already sweeping past him towards the doors behind him. And although he was relieved that you were playing nice with him and not doing the unthinkable, part of him was wounded that you had enough pride in your power to turn your back on someone who could only be dubbed the enemy.

Even so, despite the bruised ego and the fear that lingered in the back of his mind, Felix bowed to the king and turned to follow your lead. As you reached the doors, you waved off the two guards that attempted to lead the way.

"Have a bit of faith in my ability. I think I can handle an unarmed Elf. Though I trust it won't come to that," You said. The guards eyed him, and then stepped out of the way, allowing him to continue following behind him.

You were silent as you walked, never looking back at him. The hall you turned down wasn't the one he'd been brought in, though it looked similar enough that he probably would have gotten lost had he been on his own. So he followed you closely for fear of getting left behind.

He looked you over, half sizing you up, half subduing his own curiosity. In truth, he'd never been this close to a Faerie for so long before in his life. The Fae were uncommon visitors back home, which his people didn't mind whatsoever, and he'd never seen such a fascinating creature.

Every move you made was like a dance, elegant and mesmerizing, each step silent against the stone of the floors. Your hair seemed to catch a breeze that he couldn't feel if you moved just right, falling to frame your face. The very sight of you taunted mischief and wildness that he'd never seen before. And if he looked close enough, the air was distorted at your back, shimmering in fractals of light as if through a kaleidoscope. Wings, barely there to the blind eye as they caught the light.

"Do you have a staring problem, your highness? Is there something I can do for you?" You asked, finally looking over your shoulder. He startled, and you laughed. The sound was unusual, a magical sound that made him smile and sent a sort of anxiety coursing through him all at once.

"I've never seen a faerie's wings before." He admitted, avoiding the question. You nodded in understanding, and the light shifted as your wings fluttered. You were showing off, proudly so. "They're pretty."

You didn't speak again, instead opening a door and welcoming him inside.

"We can speak freely here. This is my council room. Sit, please." You pulled out a chair at the long table that sat at the center of the room. Felix took a seat as well, folding his hands on the table where you could see them. You were relaxed in his presence, and he didn't know how he should be feeling about that. But regardless of the personal emotions that it may stir up, it meant that you weren't going to attack him just yet.

"Your presence is appreciated, I worried I wouldn't get to speak with you after coming all this way," He said, carefully picking his words.

"And what is it that you've come for?" You asked him bluntly. He looked at his hands before promptly looking back at you.

"I ask for your understanding, but I have to be straight forward. I have come to ask for your hand in marriage. To propose an agreement of sorts," He said. You looked at him, brows furrowed. He swallowed down his worries about your reaction and continued. "Our people have been at war for centuries, and it's done more harm than good. The hatred between our people lies with our ancestors, so I ask you to consider my proposal to be a treaty. We can do so much good by uniting our kingdoms."

"Do you think that uniting our people would be so easy as a marriage of what? Convenience?" You asked him. "Think of the harm that it could bring, the uprisings that could begin."

He hesitated, and you could practically see the gears turning in his head as he worked out where to go next.

"Do you want our countries to be at war forever? If we don't end it, who can we expect to? It's gone on long enough, I think. I just ask you to consider putting an end to it with me."

Felix leaned forward, looking at you seriously, and you looked back. The quiet was deafening as you both stared each other down. His persistence was interesting, not like most people who came seeking your time, and certainly not like those that came seeking your father's. And he sounded sincere, carrying genuine worry for his people. You understood that.

You tsked and leaned back in your seat.

"Your kind always think they know what's best for everyone," You said. It wasn't a lie, that was all you ever heard about the elves, that they were a persistent, stuck-up sort of people. That they had no respect for the thoughts of those they deemed to be below them. Felix bristled, and you held up your hands in surrender. "That's not an insult. You've given me much to consider."

He seemed to relax at that, it was common knowledge that you couldn't lie, and he seemed to take your words at face value. You wondered if this offer was some trick, a twisted truth to draw you and your home into a vulnerable situation. There were several things that could come of promising your hand to this prince, and you had many responsibilities to worry about.

"I'll consider your offer. Return in a weeks time, we can discuss this further and I will give you an answer." You stood in a sweeping motion, bowing to him and motioning him towards the doors. "Come. My father will want to see you off, I imagine."

You lead him back to the throne room where your father and his guards were eagerly and ever so impatiently awaiting his return. Once in their presence, you gave him that same sly smile, promising to give his proposal some thought before he was due to come back, and promising him a much warmer welcome on his next visit.

He was already being shown out of the room as you finished, but he stole a glance over his shoulder, watching as you sunk into your own throne and met his eye. He could only hope that your answer would be beneficial for both of your homes.

The next few days were a lot to handle. Your father was down your throat, trying his best to wiggle information out of you about what your visitor could have possibly wanted from you. But your decision was very much still up in the air, and you didn't want to taint that by having unwanted input, especially from your father. He was a good man, you knew that as well as you knew your own name, but he had been born into a society with closed minded views, and that's not what you wanted for your future, or the future of your land.

But going it alone wasn't as easy as it was made out to be, and after a few days the weight of your future was weighing heavier than ever. So you turned to the only person you ever knew to turn to.

"Binnie, I need help," You said, barreling towards the training ranges. Changbin looked up from where he'd been training, wiping his forehead and crossing his arms over his chest with a smile that could be described as nothing but charming.

"Good to see you too, your highness," He teased. "Lovely day, I know. I'm having a wonderful morning, thanks for asking."

You glared at him, and he laughed. Changbin was the closest thing to a brother that you had growing up. He was the son of a man quite close to your parents, and the two of you had run around together since you were able to run.

“Please, I'm being serious. I need your advice." You begged. He sat down in the grass, motioning for you to join him. You sighed, flopping to the ground in the least graceful way you could have, folding your hands in your lap.

"Speak, then." He leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. You nodded, searching for the right words to say. You knew Changbin, and if you told him straight out what the problem you were facing was, he'd talk you out of marrying Felix, and take his disapproval to your father for good measure.

"If you were presented with two options, and one would cause problems, but the other would leave a bigger problem unresolved...which option would you pick?" You asked him. He hummed, rolling the question over in his head.

"So the first option would solve one problem, but cause others? And the second option wouldn't cause problems, but also wouldn't solve one?" He confirmed. You nodded. He looked at you, but you kept your eyes trained on the patch of grass between the two of you. "Is this about the prince from the Elven lands?"

You swallowed, not responding. Your silence was an answer in and of itself.

"You wouldn't look so down if you didn't know what you needed to do. You've never had any trouble following your heart. And you know I'll be at your side no matter what you decide to do." He reached out, patting your arm and stood up, brushing the dirt from his pants. "Get up, you have two more days before you have to talk to anyone else about this. Let's go do something fun for once."

Changbin's advice stuck in your head for the next couple of days. He knew you, and he was, as much as you hated to admit it, right this time around. You were sure which decision was the right one, and you had been seeking out someone to tell you that it was okay to pick the other one.

But it wasn't okay, and deep under whatever grief you were beginning to feel, you knew that. How could you justify picking a life of freedom for yourself when it meant taking that freedom from thousands of others. You simply couldn't stomach that. So you swallowed your pride, your hopes and dreams, and resigned yourself to your choice.

When Felix arrived in the early afternoon, he was greeted with less hostility than he was the first time around. Though there wasn't any more fanfare than before, and he could feel the distrust in the air as he was escorted through the castle once again. He took in the same sights, the walls that seemed to radiate a glistening, dancing light. The floors that gave the impression of water running over stones like they did in the creeks and rivers back home. The ever-fluttering breeze through the halls, and the polished marble pillars.

He was stopped outside the doors to the throne room, and this time it only took a breaths length for the doors to swing open, a voice announcing his presence as if he were an honored guest. Something about that gave him hope as he stepped into the room and the doors fell shut behind him.

The guards still lined the room, all looking at him as if he were a fearsome warrior. The doors were all blocked off by men much larger than he'd imagined faeries could be. Had they done that before? He returned his attention to the front of the room where your father's throne sat empty. Instead you were seated on your own, waiting for him. To your right stood two men. The first was well recognized as your right hand man and personal protection order. On the other side of him stood a taller man, his build a little slighter, but still all muscle. He wasn't as easily recognized. Felix assumed him to be a member of your court.

He made a sweeping bow as he had the first time he'd met you, and you watched him. The way his limbs splayed out in pure, trained elegance, his head lowered in respect. You liked seeing him this way, none of that irksome confidence you'd seen before.

"Welcome back, Prince Felix," You said, a sign for him to rise and face you properly. He first lifted his head, a charming smile playing on his lips, one that didn't quite meet his eyes.

"It's always a pleasure, your highness. Thank you for seeing me again." He straightened up properly and you nodded.

"Right, well, I know you're here for an answer, but it would be awfully unkind for me to not offer you anything. A drink maybe, or some rest? Our guest chambers are lovely if you need some rest. It's a long way from where you come from." You offered him politely. He smiled.

"The offer is most appreciated, but I really think it’s better if we get right to things. After all, if things go the way I can only hope they will, we'll have much to discuss. And it would be a shame to inconvenience you by putting that off." He said. You had to admit that you too would much rather get the entire deal out of the way.

"Very well, then." You shifted, straightening up even further in your seat and smoothing your hands over your lap. "I've given your question a great deal of thought, and weighed the options."

You paused, taking a breath, and Felix shifted his weight, not lifting his eyes to meet yours. You weren't sure if it was meant as a sign of disrespect or simply one of worry. Your exhale was slow as you pushed down your own frustration. This wasn't what you'd expected from your life, but as a prince, difficult decisions had to be made.

"I will accept your marriage proposal."

The room felt like it was spinning with how quickly Felix snapped his head up to look at you. He had hoped and prayed that you'd accept his proposal, that the two of you could work together to make things better for your peoples, but to have you actually say it seemed like something he'd never planned for. In truth, he hadn't figured out what would come after this. First and foremost you'd have to tell your father, which was going to be another day, or week, or eternity of his head being laid on the chopping block.

"I’m very grateful for the opportunity to grow together," He said, bowing to you again. You waved him off.

"None of that, you don't need to bow to me all of the time. We are equals, I guess." You stood, bowing to him for the first time. You walked the path to where he was standing and offered him a smile. "Come, we have a lot to discuss, and I think better on the move."

You motioned for the guards to leave you be, all except for your personal guard. Changbin followed from a distance, far enough away that you could speak easily but not so far that he couldn’t keep an eye on you. You trusted him with your life, and now with so much on the line, you had no worries about any misbehavior on your new fiance's part.

You walked with him, not in front but beside, a show of respect between equals as you guided him through your home, weaving deeper into the castle. The entire castle was looming, winding halls that had Felix practically spinning in circles trying to take it all in.

"Do you like it? The castle?" You asked him after a long period of silence. He nodded.

"It's not like back home. It's lovely." He said. You seemed appeased by his answer.

"There's a lot to be discussed. What we expect from marriage. And how to get it past the officials. There will be hoops to jump through. I know my father won't be pleased. He's not your biggest fan." You mused. Felix cleared his throat. He certainly knew that much.

"And my parents will want to put it to the council. I have an idea, though. If I can win your father's approval."

You looked at him, taking in his delicate features from a different angle than you had before, and the way his blonde hair fell in waves. He looked elven, the hint of his ears that poked through his hair didn't help to disguise that. Another hurdle along the way. How to convince your court and country that you'd be better off marrying the enemy rather than one of the many suitors of your own kind, or at least someone who fought on your side of the war.

"And what's that idea of yours?" You asked. Felix leaned closer casually, turning so that he was practically whispering into your ear.

"We convince them we're in love."

You stopped in your tracks, your head whipping to check that your friend was far enough away to not pick up on the conversation. You crossed your arms over your chest and furrowed your brow in absolute annoyance. He turned to look at you, tipping his head for you to voice your concerns.

"A lie? Your highness, I'm sure you're aware who you're speaking to. My people cannot lie." You snapped, still keeping your voice quiet. He straightened at the sharpness in your tone, his entire posture turning defensive.

"Don't misunderstand, I'm not implying that we lie. It's more of a trick, really." He argued.

"A trick implies that the truth will come out. And just how will that help our cause? If your people think that I have lied to them they'll make no hesitation to kill me. And then what? Your people will be wiped out in two seconds flat if they lay a finger on me. My friends alone will make sure of that." You were fuming now. You'd agreed to his crazy plan of marriage in the first place, and now he was presenting you with irresponsible and downright dangerous plans to make it work.

"Y/N, calm down." Changbin called from behind you. You glared at him over your shoulder, and he gave you a nod. You huffed, taking a step back. The prince looked at you still, something between irritation and amusement flickering across his face.

"Is that to say that you won't fall in love with me, my prince?" He asked, the name falling from his lips and making your eyes go wide. "Or that your people would so easily conquer mine?"

You clenched your fists. Oh how you wanted to wipe that look off of his face.

"But really, my people won't find out until after we've married, and there will be little they can do to stop me then. Put your faith in me like I'm putting mine in you. We can make this work, but that would require us both to keep a level head."

"I've made no promises to put my trust in you, Felix. Only to spend the rest of my life with you. Don't mistake those to be the same thing."

The tension between you and Felix had been heated ever since you realized what his plan entailed. But you had made your decision, and no matter how bothersome the path may be, the end results would be worth it if you could just pull this off. You had, however, decided fairly quickly that you weren't a fan of the prince's attitude. He was too confident, and he seemed to be taking things much too lightly. Especially when one misstep could land the both of you in serious trouble.

"Stay for a few days. We can have clothes bought for you, and we can send word to your family." You suggested, standing up from the table in your meeting room. Felix nodded, standing up as well. "I suggest we tell my father about the engagement at dinner. He won't be happy, but food tends to appease him best. I'll have Jisung show you to the guest wing."

"You could show me," He said, and you couldn't decipher the tone in his voice, teasing or flirtation or just his way of egging you on. You glared and he laughed. "I'm teasing you, your highness. I'll see you at dinner,"

He tipped his head before following you out of the room.

"Jisung, show the prince to his room please." You said.

"And thank you?" Jisung asked playfully. You cracked a smile, something you immediately regretted after trying to stay firm with Felix.

"And thank you. Now go," You huffed. Jisung poked your shoulder a few times as he passed you, and Felix gave you an amused smile that you met with a scowl.

"Best behavior at dinner, your highness." You warned him. He held his hands up in submission. You sighed, running a hand over your face, a motion that made Changbin laugh.

"Do you want to hear what I think?" He asked once Jisung had led Felix down the hall and out of sight. You rolled your eyes and looked at your best friend.

"Actually, I can't say that I do. But I think you're going to tell me anyway because that wasn't a real question." You said, beginning to walk back towards your own room. Changbin followed without hesitation.

"I think you may have met your match, your highness." There was that annoying name again, always teasing from him. You rolled your eyes. "Probably for the best if you're going to marry him, don't you think? I don't imagine you'll ever be bored."

You scoffed.

"Bored and happy sounds better than never bored but eternally suffering," You told him.

"If you're going to be so miserable, then why are you doing this?" He asked gently, grabbing your arm and guiding you back to him so you couldn't simply walk away and avoid his question. You swallowed down the bitter taste, the building frustration that would inevitably amount in tears or shouting.

"Because nobody since the beginning of this war has done anything to help our people, and I can't allow it to go on. People have been dying, and suffering, and resenting my family line because of a petty grudge. If I have to bite the bullet for the sake of everything I hold in my hands, then I have to be the one to pull the trigger."

Changbin looked at you for a long moment, the air thick as he watched you blink back tears. You didn't want to marry Felix, you didn't want to give up your freedom like that for the next several hundred years, but you cared about your country more than anything in the world, and you could tell that Felix felt the same way about his people. If nothing else, you had to respect that. And to seek out a solution like he had wasn't something you'd ever thought of for yourself, so you would give him the benefit of the doubt.

The rest of the walk to your room was quiet, leaving you with your own thoughts and emotions. You imagined that Changbin was trying to understand your decision, and the emotions behind it, but he was a much less hardheaded person than you were, and much less trusting of people's souls.

"I'll see you at dinner," He said, nudging your shoulder with his fist and giving you a smile that you forced yourself to return, leaving you in peace, all alone now. You laid yourself out on your bed, arms and legs spread across the surface of it as if stretching to your limit would silence the noise in your mind and ground you back into your body.

Your father was going to be unhappy, and you'd have to convince him to let you do this. He wasn't a controlling man, no more than he had to be at least, but this was taking a personal risk, and surely he wouldn't be eager to let you do that. The thought of driving a wedge between the two of you made your heart ache. He’d been your biggest supporter for as long as you could remember. You said a silent prayer to the universe that he’d continue to be just that.

You needed a better plan. You thought about Felix and his irksome confidence as he simply stated we make them think we're in love. But you had to admit that, despite everything, the sentiment made sense. There were a lot of things that people rejected, things that your people would never accept. But one of the few things that people had a hard time saying no to was love.

You stared at the ceiling, a dancing mirage of oranges and reds that mimicked the setting sun's colors. Dinner would be served soon, and you'd have to take another step towards your destiny, however unpleasant that may be. Maybe if Felix was on his best behavior your father wouldn't cause an uproar, and maybe he'd trust you enough not to make you sit beside the court and council.

You thought about what you'd planned your future to hold. Love, and laughter. You had hoped to see much of the world when you were younger, not yet jaded by the looming war at the edges of your home. Though the war had died down quite a bit in the hundred years since you were brought to be. You remembered your mother, and the songs of life before the war that she’d sing you to sleep with. She said she'd learned them from her mother, who had learned them from her own before that, for generations stretching back a thousand years.

You often found yourself wondering what life was like then, before the hatred and the fear. When your kind lived in harmony with others. Back when life on the outer edges of your homeland was still wild and free, bubbling with joy and music and a whisper of hope that you desperately wanted to nurture.

This, whatever this life changing decision you were making was, had to be the right choice.

You laid there in silence for a while longer, soaking in the last slice of peace that you could imagine having for a while before finally getting yourself cleaned up for dinner.

Changbin escorted you to the dining pavilion as he typically did, and you greeted your father with a wide smile, settling into your seat.

"Isn't Felix here yet?" You asked, smoothing your hands over your lap. Your father shook his head, clearly displeased that he had been kept waiting. You silently reminded yourself that Felix wasn't technically late yet. The late spring air helped you keep your cool, the scent of the flowers from the gardens riding on the breeze.

"I apologize if I've kept you waiting." Felix's voice startled you out of your thoughts, and you smiled. Honestly you were just relieved to be one step closer to the truth being in the open.

"You haven't, don't worry. Please, sit." You motioned towards the seat across from you. He bowed his head to you and sat down where you indicated. The table was set, filled with more food than the three of you could possibly eat. Even so, Felix looked a bit worried. You cleared your throat.

"You can eat it, no harm will come to you. We don't enchant people as often as some might think. I promise it's all fine." You said. You watched him open his mouth as if to speak, instead settling on a polite smile. You felt something bitter burn in your chest. People's opinion of the fair folk had been dropping for lifetimes now, but it still made you angry to be distrusted the way you were.

With Felix settled in and reassured that you and your father had no ill intentions, the meal went smoothly, though mostly in silence. It was only when dessert was served that your father decided to speak up.

"I still don't think I've caught the reason for your visits, young prince." He said. You stiffened, but Felix looked just as laid back as he had throughout his entire second visit. He looked at you, and his lips curled into a smile.

"My apologies, your majesty. I didn't mean to be so secretive with my intentions." Felix admitted. He looked at your father. "I came to ask for Y/N's hand in marriage, and they've accepted. So now I am asking for your blessing."

The silence after his confession was deafening, and it threatened to swallow you whole. Your father didn't speak, he didn't shout or attack Felix right then and there which, you desperately hoped, was a good sign. But when he opened his mouth to speak, he was looking at you.

"What is this about?" He asked. You swallowed and glanced at Felix. He was looking at you, dark eyes alight with desperation, or maybe with hope, but either way it tugged at something inside of you.

"Please give us your blessing, father. Let me marry him," You begged gently. He looked at you, something along the lines of rage and disbelief flickering in his eyes.

"You've hardly known him for a week," Your father pointed out. You nodded, inhaling slowly.

"And I've thought about the decision a lot. I firmly believe that this is the right choice. Please, I need your trust." You laid your utensils down and turned to properly face your father. "You raised me well, and I genuinely believe that I’m ready to make the important decisions for myself. All I'm asking is for your blessing."

The quiet returned, even the birds had stopped chirping in the trees as if the entirety of the world was waiting with bated breath. You could feel Felix's eyes on you, and you refused to look back at him.

"The council won't like it. I will do what I can to sway them, but that may be in your hands." Your father spoke, and you exhaled deeply, closing your eyes and saying a silent thanks to the universe for her kindness. You sunk back in your seat in the first proper show of comfort since the day Felix came to ask for your hand in the first place.

"Thank you, sir," Felix said, looking at you with a smile that was brighter than the sun itself. You sighed quietly. This wasn't going to be easy.

As dinner finished, and Felix was dismissed to write to his family and let them know he'd be staying longer than expected, your father called you to stay back. You stiffened, turning around to face him again.

"I'm not going to ask if you love him, I can see that you don't." He said. You clenched your jaw, and he continued. "But I have to ask you if you're doing this for the right reasons."

You thought for a moment, mulling over the best way to approach his question.

"I'm tired of sitting by and doing nothing. Soon enough it will be my turn to run our country, and I want to prove that I can do what needs to be done, even if it's difficult sometimes." You said. "I'm doing this for mom,"

He smiled, a sad, thoughtful sort of smile and gave you a nod.

"I trust your judgment, but sometimes you're too much like your mother for my heart to take. She was hard headed and passionate too, and I can't imagine that you got that from me. If you’re confident in your decisions, you have me at your back. Now go, you'll have a lot of work ahead of you."

You carried those words with you the next few days as you sat through council meetings, elders arguing the future of your country and the validity of your decisions. They claimed you were only a child, you reminded them that not only were you of legal age, but that you were of marrying age and, had you not found a suitor within the next several years, you would have been married off for the sake of politics. It was only fair that you got to make that decision on your own in the meantime.

You knew what their argument really was, that you were making a decision they couldn't imagine making for themselves, that you were fraternizing with the enemy. Which was amusing behind closed doors since you could hardly call whatever it was you had going on with Felix 'fraternization’. 

It was coming out of one of these endless meetings that you ran into a distressed looking Felix. He had been working himself up for hours now waiting for someone to report back to him with how things were coming. His hair looked as if he'd run his hands through it a dozen times over, and he seemed to jump when you came through the doors.

"Well? What did they say this time?" He asked you. You took a breath.

"They're not happy about it, but they’ve run out of reasons to protest since both me and my father are in favor of the marriage. They want us to announce our engagement formally." You told him. He paused, a half-laugh of disbelief leaving his lips.

"Are you serious? They've agreed?" He asked. You nodded.

"Don't go getting all excited, this is where the hard part begins."

"This wasn't the hard part?" He asked, leaning against the wall. You rolled your eyes.

“We still have to tell your family, mind you.” You said. “And we have entire nations to win over. This was only the beginning.”

"I can't imagine either of those things will be terribly difficult, my parents won’t be happy, but they won’t try to stop me. They trust me, unlike–”

You sent a glare in his direction, a warning not to speak ill of your family. He just gave you a playful smile and giggled in delight at having earned a reaction out of you. You rolled your eyes.

"Right then. You'll have the rest of the day to prepare, and we'll make the announcement tomorrow." You began walking, back towards the outside, heading for the gardens. "And after that you'll have to come with me when I attend royal duties. Oh, and you'll need to write home, get a proper invitation for my safe travels. Otherwise my father and the court and council will never let me travel into enemy land."

Felix laughed, and you looked over your shoulder at him. He was following as you'd expected, but with his hands in his pockets he looked much more relaxed than you felt. You were growing more and more irritated with his laid back demeanor.

"What?" You asked.

"Are you always this serious?" He asked you. You continued walking again, and he moved to stand in front of you, effectively blocking your path.

"I think this is something quite reasonable to be serious about. Clearly you don't, which is what stresses me out."

"What's your favorite color?" He asked you.

“If you cannot take our marriage preparations seriously, how am I supposed to trust you with my country? Or your own for that matter?"

"Favorite flower? What do you do for fun?"

"Felix, I'm serious!"

"I know you are," He reached out, taking you by your shoulders and shaking you back and forth. "Loosen up, for fucks sake. I am preparing for our wedding. Nobody will believe that we're truly in love if we know nothing about each other."

You paused, mildly taken aback by the language, but it was enough to stop your anxiety in its tracks. You hadn't thought about that. You shook off his hands gently, continuing to walk.

"Then we'll spend the day getting to know each other. But we'll discuss other things too. The schedule first off."

"Can you answer my questions then? What is your favorite color, my prince?"

You pushed the doors at the end of the hall open, giving way to a long, clover pathway. Vine covered arbors arced over the path, bright with flowers in every color that Felix could even imagine flowers coming in. You seemed to relax once you were outside in nature, leading him along the path. As he watched, he noticed the way that your feet barely touched the ground, your steps gliding as if you were dancing with the air.

"Green." You told him, reaching out to touch a flower that grew on one of the arbors. He watched the way it perked up under your touch. "I also like brown, but my father says that's not a suitable color for favorites."

Felix smiled. That may well have been the first glimpse at your true self that he'd had the honor of seeing.

"I think it's perfectly suitable. And that you should be allowed to have your own thoughts independent of your father's." He knew he probably should have minded his words more carefully from the way you stiffened up. But you relaxed after a moment, turning to look at him as you both walked deeper into the gardens, hedges rising around you, each trimmed neatly into perfect walls.

"What's your favorite color then?" You asked him in return.

"Black. But if people ask, I usually tell them orange." He said. You didn't miss the irony in him changing his favorite color for the sake of other people's opinions when he said that you shouldn't do just that. You wondered if he was always so hypocritical when it came to himself.

You stopped in front of a large fountain, a depiction of two fairies with their heads tipped back, smiles stretching across their faces. They looked to be dancing, and the marble of their wings caught the light, making them shine like silver. The water was opalescent as it cascaded down into the pool, and you sat at the edge of it, dipping your fingers into the water and watching the ripples that came from it.

"And what do you do for fun?" He asked. You looked at him, then back at your hand as you scooped up some of the water, letting it run through your fingers, some trickling down your wrist.

"I read sometimes. Usually out here. I spend most of my free time here. Or with my friends." You told him. "When I'm with them we aren't usually up to any good. Never harmful, though. Don't get me wrong."

Felix listened to you, and he didn't say anything about the supposed mischief that you got up to with your friends.

"Your friends, what are their names?" He asked. 

“The guards you’ve met. They’ve been my best friends since before they joined the royal guard. There’s others too, but I don’t see them as often.” You stood up, shaking the water off of your hand. “What about you? You have friends back home, right?”

“I do. Chan is probably my best friend. You’ll meet him one day. I think you’ll get along well with him.” Felix said. He opened his mouth, starting to ask you another question, but you shook your head.

"You've asked enough questions, I have more to tell you about." You said.

And so you did, bringing him up to date with the expectations that would be placed upon him once it was announced that the two of you were engaged. How he'd become an equal, but respect was still to be maintained to the very end. How he'd have to attend any balls you were expected at unless his business at home would call him away, and how any event you were seen at in your country, he'd also want to attend to achieve public favor.

It was late into the evening when the two of you decided to leave the gardens. You'd shown him several different spaces that you enjoyed sitting and thinking in. The rose gardens, and the sculpture gardens, and the tree at the very center that you'd been climbing since you were able to walk. Felix understood then, maybe for the first time, the connection that your people seemed to have with nature.

"What's your favorite flower, my prince?" Felix asked as the two of you walked back towards the castle. The name was beginning to stick, and you grew disgruntled every time he used it. Although maybe that was the reason he kept on saying it.

"Lily of the valley," You answered finally, a faint smile on your lips. "My father had a whole bunch of them planted where you can see them from my window. That one there,"

You pointed to your bedroom window overlooking the gardens, and Felix looked up at it. He wondered if you'd been given that room for just that reason, or if maybe the gardens had been planted where they were for the sake of giving you something nice to look at.

"A good choice," He admitted as the both of you returned to the castle. He opened the door for you, and you bowed your head to him in appreciation.

Once inside, he excused himself, stating that he was too tired to attend dinner, but that he'd see you in the morning for breakfast. You let him go only once he promised to have his letter to his parents sent out before he went to bed.

You wondered as you returned to your own space if your relationship with Felix would forever be formal and awkward. Sure, the afternoon together hadn’t been miserable, but a part of you worried that you'd never be anything more than polite acquaintances. Asking for love in a marriage of convenience and diplomacy was a bit excessive, even you knew that, but maybe a kind of comfort could come of it if you were lucky.

The next morning was an early start. You woke up before the sun rose, getting yourself ready on your own and taking your time as you prepared for the day. You made yourself up before breakfast, staring at your reflection in the mirror. After breakfast you would be expected to meet with the court and council, and you'd be put on display in front of your people to announce your engagement. You wondered how they’d take it, if the favor you’d been earning since your birth was enough to win out against fear and survival instinct.

In your lifetime alone, many people had been wronged by the elves. They had shown themselves to be a cruel and self-righteous people with little to no regard for people who were any different than themselves. Felix hadn't seemed too much like what you knew of his kind, but it would take some time for him to prove that to anyone besides you. But you knew, you reminded yourself as you put on your clothes, that this was for the best. You were making the right decision.

You were the first to arrive for breakfast, your food being served to you as it always was. When your father arrived, you were poking at your eggs. Your stomach was too queasy to eat a decent meal. He didn't say much beyond a good morning. You tried not to think anything of it, he was never much of a morning person. But your anxiety was beginning to get the best of you, a worry that your entire plan would come crashing down by the day's end. When Felix came and took his own seat to your right, you had still done nothing but tear your eggs to shreds and pick the crust off of your bread.

"Good morning, my prince. Your majesty." He greeted the both of you, his own plate being filled with the best your cooks had to offer.

"Good morning, Felix. Did you sleep well?" You asked, looking up from your food. He nodded.

"Very well, thank you. I wrote home as promised, I expect a proper invitation by the end of the week." He said. That should have relaxed you, but it only made you more tense knowing that there would be no escaping a visit to Felix's homeland.

"Wonderful. Just in time for our announcement. After breakfast is finished we should get to preparing." You said, not that you'd even begun eating your meal. "We've already set them to decorate and get everything set up for an announcement, and I'm sure the crowds are beginning to gather already."

Felix watched the way your fingers tightened around your fork, and the way that your voice didn't sound as confidently strong as he had grown used to in the short time the two of you had spent together. It was off-putting to see you so withdrawn, and he wished that he could fix it even just for the sake of not dealing with the unexpected.

"You've prepared your announcement speech?" Your father asked you. You nodded quietly, not looking up at him. You weren't much of a public speaker, and you had never made a public speech to a group of one hundred people, let alone the better part of your kingdom.

"Speech?" Felix asked. You nodded again, finally taking a bite of your breakfast.

"An engagement is proof enough that it's time for me to act like an adult and not a childish prince," You said. It was beginning to feel ironic since you hadn't felt this much like a childish prince in some time. "So it's my turn to say my piece. Don't worry, you won't be expected to speak."

Felix nodded a little. It wasn't hard to pick up on your anxiety, and as much as he loved getting a reaction out of you, he sincerely didn't want you to feel unsafe in his presence.

"Well then, is there anything else I can do to help with the preparations?" He asked. You put your fork down, pushing your food away from you. Your stomach couldn't handle it with the way it was twisting into knots. You looked at Felix, a bit surprised by his offer, then you shook your head.

"Just make yourself look as nice as possible and get to the main hall within two hours. That's really all I ask." You stood up, "Honestly, if I have to chase you down I might have to end this entire ordeal then and there,"

You were dead serious, and nobody knew that better than Felix. He nodded with a quiet 'I promise'. You sat back in your seat and closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Once your father was finished eating, he excused himself with a promise to check in before time for you to face the world. You sat there a few moments longer before following his lead and excusing yourself.

Felix followed you, abandoning his half cleared plate.

"Hey, this is gonna be fine. You know that, right?" He asked you. You forced a smile, straightening out your shoulders.

"I know. I'll see you later," You turned quickly. As kind as the reassurance was, you didn't want to be around him for any longer than necessary in your state, and the gentle tone of his voice was grating on your already frayed nerves, and the last thing you wanted was to spiral in front of him and put even more pressure on his shoulders.

He didn't follow you this time, and you didn't look back at him. Instead you walked the long halls back to the safety of your room. You took your time getting yourself all dolled up. Meanwhile, Changbin was sitting on your bed in his uniform, flicking through one of the books that you had stacked up on your bed stand.

"Why are you doing all of this, anyway? I mean, you’re obviously one mishap away from having a complete meltdown. No offense." Changbin said. You rolled your eyes, adjusting your clothes for the hundredth time.

"What sort of question is that?" You scoffed.

"An honest one. I mean, you're royalty, right? And you could marry anyone you wanted. Why are you marrying someone you barely even know?"

You turned to look at him, placing your hands on your hips. When he looked up, he made a face just like he always had when you were younger and you'd scold him for being reckless or improper or dragging you into his shenanigans (not that you ever really minded that bit).

"I'm marrying him because I know that it's what I'm meant to do." You said firmly. "It's not even him that's getting to me. It's...everything else. Everyone thinking that they need to judge us, or evaluate us and give their opinion. And for what?"

You huffed, beginning to pace. Changbin just leaned back on your bed once again.

"I mean, it's not as if we're show animals, we don't need to jump through everyone else's hoops just to prove that we should get married. It's our own lives, isn't it?"

Changbin didn't speak then, just let you huff and grumble about life as you finished getting yourself ready. He was ever patient with you like that, and you did appreciate it more than you could express. Of course when you were in a mood like this, his seeming indifference to the situation didn't help much.

Luckily for him the two hours passed quickly with you only occasionally bursting out again about how frustrating things were. He knew your anxiety well, and it was clear that you were beginning to take it out on everything else. So he held your hand as the two of you walked to meet your father and Felix. You were grateful for the distraction of his warm, calloused palm under yours. After so many years, you’d gotten good at mapping out his skin when you were anxious, giving your mind some excuse to not think about anything else.

The main hall was full of people, workers from the castle who had been helping to keep the last minute event running smoothly. Your father and his guards and attendants were being spoken to about the plan, and Felix was standing to the side with Jisung looking both incredibly laid back and a little restless. You made a beeline for the two of them, all but collapsing into Jisung's arms as he wrapped them around your middle.

"Your highness, I think you're making a scene," He said, mostly teasingly. You whined.

"These people are all here because of me, I think they can mind their own business long enough for me to have a meltdown." You grumbled, straightening up and smoothing out your clothes and hair. "Have they been waiting very long?"

"They've been here since we got here. With how frazzled the head of the team looks I think they've been putting in overtime getting things set." He admitted. You sighed and squeezed your eyes shut for a moment before shaking out your nerves.

"Right, let's make this as smooth as we can for them, then."

Felix had to admit that the way you so quickly and easily switched gears amazed him. In the blink of an eye you'd gone from openly and pretty clearly distressed to the put together prince he'd met his first visit. He exhaled slowly, hoping he looked even half as put together as you did.

"Your highnesses," One of the workers, presumably the frazzled one Jisung had spoken of given the look on his face, bowed in front of the four of you. "We'll begin the address soon, but I wanted to run you through the order of events first, answer any question you may have."

You nodded, motioning Felix forward to look over the papers you were being shown. It wasn't anything new to you. Your father would make an address first, introduce you to your people, and then you and Felix would step forward to take the lead, give your speech. Then you'd all thank your people for their time and the entire thing would be over in less than forty minutes. Ideal.

"Whenever you're ready, your majesty," The man bowed to your father, and he nodded. Your father looked at you, and even though he didn't smile, or give any pep talks, you knew that he was rooting for you behind his royal facade. You and your father had always been close enough for you to read the look in his eyes.

As a group, the lot of you were led up the set of stairs to yet another wide open hall. The announcement hall, with a balcony that overlooked the castle courtyard. You could hear them beyond the door, your people gathered for a glimpse of their leaders, a hint of news that could be told to everyone they knew. The music from beyond the balcony doors was loud, voices and laughter raised to the sky. A reminder of exactly why you were doing this.

The guards swung the doors open, and your father stepped out to a chorus of cheers and fanfare. He was very well liked as a king, as long as you'd been alive at least. You stepped out afterwards, Felix on your heels, then guards as the doors closed.

Felix had to admire the way you stood tall, your expression the epitome of affection as you looked out as your people. He, on the other hand, felt as if he was shrinking in on himself no matter how hard he tried not to. But he didn't get much of a chance to think about that as your father began his greetings speech.

A welcome to the faeries who had come from all around the kingdom, and a thanks for their undying loyalty to the crown that brought them there. Felix listened to this part. It was clear that the King was an incredible leader, and well respected if the crowd that had gathered with only twenty four hours notice was anything to go by. He understood where you got your leadership skills.

The applause after your father's speech was what pulled you out of your thoughts, and your eyes flew to him first, then to Felix, and finally to your friends who you could only see out of the corner of your eye. You took a deep, shaky breath and stepped forward to take your father's place. Felix followed you, standing ever so slightly behind you as you took center stage.

You put on your bravest smile, beginning your announcement with as much joy as you could muster. Thank the people for coming and sparing their time to be with you as you made a joyful announcement for you and your home. Make a long, flowery monologue about how happy and grateful you were to have been born prince of such a magnificent place, how strong your country was and words of inspiration about how you believed they would continue being wonderful.

Then came the most difficult part.

"We've asked you here to give a life changing announcement. I have finally accepted a marriage proposal. I would like to introduce Prince Felix of the Elven realms. Your future king." Your hands were shaking, and you clenched your fists as subtly as you could manage to try and get them under control. You looked at Felix as you'd been coached to, and he was already looking at you with the sweetest smile you'd ever seen. One that made your stomach twist and your heart stutter in your chest. A baffling change from the way it had been racing as you tried not to choke on your ridiculous speech.

Felix bowed to your people, and for once, the crowd was wholeheartedly silent. You had seen that coming. You tried not to let on the way the nerves began eating you alive. You weren't always very good at hiding your emotions, you got that from your mother.

A hand took yours, warm and soft and squeezing your trembling hand in his own. You let out a shaky breath, and Felix gave you a nod of encouragement. You tensed, frustration burning dark and heavy in your chest. You turned back to the microphone in front of you.

"I am proud of the decision I'm making, and I can only hope that you will all take pride in it as well. More details will come with time, but in the meantime, I ask that you all welcome Felix with open arms just as my family, my home, and I have already." You bowed your head in appreciation towards your people, giving them one more statement of appreciation before being escorted back inside. Your father followed then, and the guards last.

Once you were inside, you released Felix's hand, your fingers were tense from how hard you'd been squeezing it. You turned to apologize, but he shook his head, silencing you with nothing more than a look.

"You did well," Your father told you, giving your shoulders an affectionate squeeze. You smiled, ignoring the way it felt like yet another sentence to perfection. You couldn't handle that thought.

"Thank you. If you'll excuse me," You turned, making a beeline for the gardens that always brought you the most peace. You took the stairs faster than you ever had in your life, your feet barely touching the floor beneath them.

It didn't feel as if you could breath until you were in the open air, no longer suffocating or bending the truth. It was just you and the world. The world wasn't always kind, but she was oh so real. You couldn't say the same about yourself anymore, not really. That left you with a sort of self loathing that you'd never actually felt before. Who were you if not the truest, most transparent version of yourself. And how could you be transparent with a secret this big? When you were blurring the lines between selflessness and the selfish need to give every bit of yourself to bring others whatever they needed?

Your heart carried you through the gardens more than your mind did, leading you down the paths, past the fountains and into the very heart of the large maze of nature. You passed through the archway there into a cleared opening. At the center of it stood a large sycamore tree. There was a pond to the side with a bench sitting near it, and an intricately carved bird bath on the opposite side of the clearing. You climbed into the upper branches of the tree with a practiced ease, pulling yourself up despite the way the bark scratched your palms, kicking off your shoes to make it easier to move properly. You didn't even bother to think of the damage it may do to your best clothes.

Sitting up in the tree, the sun filtering through its leaves, and the breeze brushing your overheating skin, it made the panic and frustration clear like fog lifting and dissipating. You sat there for a long time. You'd been climbing this tree for decades, finding comfort in its steadiness.

That being said, it wasn't surprising when Jisung found you faster than you would have liked him to. He stood at the base of the tree where you could see him but he couldn't directly see you. Even so, your shoes were sitting at the roots of the tree, giving your location away like a beacon shining in the dark.

Jisung made a move to climb after you. He had, after all, been climbing it with you for a good long while. Him and Changbin both since you were all just kids. You made a move to climb higher, not that you could evade him for very long given that there was only so much tree to climb. He made an irritated, whiney sound.

"Don't even consider moving. Not all of us have such an easy time with this," He warned, and you knew that it was a mostly empty threat, he wouldn't do anything if you kept climbing. You settled your weight on the branch you were sitting on anyway. He made it to you fairly quickly, sitting down at the crook of a branch near you. "What brought you here?"

You looked at the spot in front of you, bringing your finger to trace the ridges in the bark between where your legs hung. You shrugged quietly. He didn't speak, still waiting for you to answer him. He knew that you'd break eventually, the awkward tension growing too much. And you were perfectly predictable under the circumstances.

"Do you think that I'll make a good leader, Ji?" You asked him, still not risking a look at him.

"Is this about the engagement?" He asked you. Honestly you were getting sick of that question. Sure, you hadn't always been one to voice your insecurities, but you had always had them.

"Not exactly. The engagement just has me thinking," You told him. He nodded. "I know that I'm making the right decision, even if that's hard to do. But do you think that our people trust me? Or do they think that I'm going to let them down?"

He was quiet, clearly thinking, and you tried not to let that worry you. Still, you found yourself picking at your clothes to try and quiet the wave of anxiety that was creeping up your spine.

"I think that our people will believe in you because of who you are and where you come from. Your parents have always treated us like family, and we know that you will take that same care with us." He was looking at you, and you looked back this time, nipping at the inside of your cheek. "However, I think they will also expect you to prove yourself. And I know that you will. I have nothing but trust and confidence in you. As a person, and a prince."

The both of you sat in your tree a while longer, hiding from the world in each other's company until the sun was beginning to set and the breeze grew cool. Jisung helped you down then, not that you needed it, and walked with you back through the gardens. You did feel better than, with his confidence and  unwavering support playing on repeat in your mind. You were gonna be just fine, your people would trust you. You just had to prove yourself. Easy peasy.

The hall was quiet this late at night, and Felix couldn't help but feel like the sound of his footsteps were disturbing the peaceful atmosphere that he'd stepped into. He knew that wandering about so late at night was probably not the best thing for him to be doing, but he'd been promised protection within the castle walls, and laying in bed tossing and turning wasn't putting him any closer to actually resting.

He didn't know exactly where he was going, but he was thinking about what you'd said before about how you think better on the move. He wondered if there was any sense to that. He was still in his pajamas, his hair messy from sleep (or some poor attempt at it). The halls were lit with a pale blue hued light that he couldn't spot the source of, nor any sort of shadows to help him figure it out. It made the entire place feel like a dream. He had started to get used to this place, a home away from home once you were properly married, and it was more peaceful than he'd expected it to be given the connection between faeries and mischief.

He walked for a long while, passing windows that let in silvery moonlight that spilled over the floor like puddles after a rain, and views that you hadn't shown him yet. He took a couple flights of stairs, wandering up higher. He'd been told there was a library, and he wasn't much of a reader, but it sounded like a nice place to indulge his thoughts for a while, maybe somewhere to make a regular relaxation spot.

He was still in that thought when another presence caught him off guard, a movement in the corner of his eye. He whirled around, his hands balled into fists. Not that he was trained in hand to hand combat, elves were built for fighting from a distance. There wasn't anyone he could see, but he could hear the soft fluttering sound that he'd begun to pin down as wings sifting through the air.

"Gotta be faster than that, your highness." A voice said, and he spun around again. Leaning against the wall was the guard that was always at your side.

"Changbin. You startled me," He admitted, pressing a hand to his racing chest.

"As was the plan. No ill intent, don't misunderstand, but I saw you wandering about, thought I might as well have a bit of fun without Y/N around to scold me for bothering you." He said. He uncrossed his arms. "Were you headed anywhere in particular?"

Felix shook his head, smoothing a hand through his hair.

"No, I just couldn't sleep is all. I figured a walk might do me some good." He admitted. Changbin nodded his understanding.

"Do you drink tea? I'll take you to the kitchen," He offered. Felix agreed, following the shorter man's lead. He hadn't gotten much of a chance to speak with Changbin, he was always at your side. That, however, was exactly why he wanted to talk to him. There was a lot about you that was a mystery to Felix, and he honestly wasn't sure if you'd be open to sharing it with him. His curiosity, however, didn't want to accept that answer without putting up a decent fight.

Changbin was quiet for most of the walk, and Felix didn't want to disturb the quiet, but eventually the knight spoke up.

"It's not safe for guests to wander the halls this late at night. Some of our people aren't quite so trusting, they may have gotten the wrong idea, my prince." He said. Felix wondered if that was a threat. But Changbin was smiling and ushering him into the kitchen. "What has you up this late?"

Felix watched as Changbin maneuvered the large kitchens with a practiced ease, and he found himself wondering if Changbin spent a lot of time here during the late nights, unable to sleep like he was now.

"Just thinking too much. I have trouble sleeping when there's a lot on my mind." Felix explained. Changbin hummed, pulling down a pair of cups for their tea.

"Tell me," He said. Felix's silence must have spoken for him, because Changbin turned to him and elaborated. "When there's something on your mind, talking about it helps get it off your mind. So talk to me. Your secrets are safe with me, your highness."

Felix fiddled with the rings on his fingers.

"You don't need to call me that, Felix is fine. You're practically going to be family soon if I understand correctly." He said. Changbin passed him a steaming mug, and he took it in his hands, pressing his palms to the almost scalding hot porcelain. "I don't think that Y/N trusts me very much."

Changbin laughed, and the sound was nearly unsettling, but Felix didn't mind hearing it.

"They don't. It's not entirely your fault, they don't trust much of anyone. But they haven't heard many good things about your people. No offense, of course." Changbin said, leaning against one of the many counters. Felix looked down. He knew that the hatred ran deep between their two peoples, but it hadn't fully occurred to him that the war had bred such deep distrust. He felt fairly foolish now that it was laid out in front of him.

"I want to prove myself to them. To all of you. And of course saying that isn't enough, I'll continue working for it. I want you to know that. I've heard that you are the person closest to them." Felix sipped his tea, ignoring the fact that it was a bit hotter than he would have hoped. He eyed Changbin quietly after the statement. He didn’t look like what Felix had always imagined the Fae to look like, but he was handsome. Sculpted muscle and sunkissed skin. He was short, but it was clear that he wasn’t small in stature or personality.

"One of them. Trying is all it'll take. They're not so cold, I promise." Changbin reached out, giving Felix a squeeze on the arm that was surprisingly reassuring. "Your people took something from them. From all of us. That's all they know about you. But they have a kind heart, and they're very true to the things they believe in. Let them learn to believe in you, and in the meantime give them a chance to be afraid. Because, and you didn't hear this from me, but they're very afraid."

Felix didn't speak, he didn't really think it necessary after all that Changbin had shared for him. The only thing that he could think to say was thank you, but even that didn't seem like enough. They shared their space in comfortable silence, each drinking their tea and letting their own thoughts take the lead. About halfway through his drink, Felix looked at the man across from him.

"Changbin, you do know that I won't hurt them, right?" He said. Changbin laughed again, shaking his head.

"That's not something I'm too worried about, my friend. If you hurt them you'll have to take that up with them. And despite what you may think, they're a lot scarier than me and Jisung combined when they're angry. Or hurt." He downed the rest of his drink, setting aside his empty cup. "They're surprising like that, they're a lot more than you see on the surface. I remember when I was training to be a royal knight, they caught one of the instructors hassling me. I hadn't thought anything of it, figured it was all just part of the training, y'know?"

Felix nodded, and Changbin crossed his arms over his chest, a fond smile growing on his face the more he thought about the memory.

"They came running down the training field all dressed up in their best clothes, they came straight out of a meeting. And they took a bow from one of the other trainees and aimed it at this guy, telling him to leave me alone, that I was under their protection," He laughed, and this sound was even brighter than the last. Felix could feel the adoration he held for you, and he really was beginning to understand it. "They nearly took his head off when he asked them to repeat themselves."

"They nearly took my head off the first time we met," Felix laughed himself this time, and when he looked up from his rapidly cooling cup of tea, he was met by a knowing look. Changbin took his cup since he clearly wasn't about to finish it.

"Don't worry, they haven't tried that since then. I say that's a good sign." He nodded towards the door. "I should however be escorting you back to your room, my prince. I can't say much, it's not my place, but I imagine you'll have a big few days coming. Y/N might actually kill you this time if you aren't well rested."

Felix didn't put up a fight, just followed his newest ally back to the room he'd been assigned. There wasn't a guard standing outside like there had been his first couple of nights. Felix still hadn't decided if that was a good sign or a bad one, but he was going to take it as a show of trust. He opened the door, bidding Changbin goodnight, and decided that another try at sleep might just be the best for his well being.

The day that came after was indeed very hectic. Felix had never seen so many gifts in his life, piles of them, and flowers that he'd never heard of before. Not to mention the cheers from outside the castle. If his people had swarmed the castle like that the whole place surely would have gone into lock down. But here it was welcomed with joy and gratitude. And Felix knew of course that you and your people weren't evil and terrible creatures like his family had always made you out to be, but now he was baffled as to how anyone could have believed such a glaring lie in the first place.

"Felix, are you listening?" You asked, looking over to where he was sat beside you at the long and very full table. He nodded quickly, straightening up.

"It would do you well to listen, your highness. This all involves you as well," One of the elders at the table said, and Felix had to keep himself from shrinking in on himself under the sheer disdain in the woman's voice.

"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'll listen well." He promised. Beside him you snickered, and he huffed. Your father smiled at the two of you from the head of the table, and you pressed your lips together at being caught.

"As I was saying," He continued. "There's a festival to be held tomorrow evening. A celebration of the engagement. I expect the two of you to make an appearance. Y/N will show you how to behave, festivals are common occurrences here, but I'm unsure about where you come from."

Felix honestly hadn't been to any festivals in his life back home, though he'd managed to go to a few in neighboring countries, diplomatic missions and such. After all, the war didn't have nearly as harsh an effect on their allies as it had on them. But you looked positively thrilled at the prospects, so he couldn't imagine that they were miserable events.

"I'm a quick learner, I won't cause problems." He promised, giving that sweet smile of his. You pressed your lips together and gave him a nod.

"Right then, what else is on our plates?" You asked.

The meeting went on like this, the court and council explaining what the events of the next few days would look like until you were called to Felix's home country to meet his family. Wedding planning and your usual work load. And of course you were scheduled a bit of downtime here and there, something that the both of you were visibly grateful for.

You caught Felix on his way out of the meeting, grabbing his wrist gently and pulling him to a stop.

"Felix, I wanted to talk to you." You said. He tipped his head.

"You wanted to talk to me? That must be a first, I'm honored, my prince." He teased. You huffed, but you didn't glare at him. It's the little things, he thought, baby steps.

"About the festival. And how to not offend the people you may meet." You said. He nodded, suddenly much less playful than he had been a moment before. His face straightened into an expression of pure focus, his eyes trained on you. You shifted your weight from foot to foot, a bit put off by his seriousness. Usually you were the one wholly dedicated to this, and the more he seemed to put into it the more you began feeling like a bird in a cage.

"I'm all ears," He said. You couldn't help but look at his ears then, long and poking out of his summer blonde hair just a little. You giggled, the sound bubbling out of you before you could stop it. And then your eyes were wide, the laughter still coming out of you. Felix looked at you, bewildered and amused and all together curious about the outburst. You covered your mouth.

"You are all ears." You said, reaching out to poke at the tip of his ear. He laughed then, and the two of you stood together in a moment of lightheartedness that had been lost for the past couple of weeks as you both gave your futures to one another.

Once the laughter had died down, the both of you shared a smile, genuine and trusting in a way that hadn’t been explored by the two of you just yet.

"Come on then, tell me about what I can do better." He said, his smile melting into his words. You liked how his voice sounded then, tinted with joy instead of amusement and teasing.

"Right. First of all, you call us fair folk. Never faeries, it's an outdated term. It’s pretty much only used by Elves nowadays. It's disrespectful." You said. He nodded, his expression dropping for a moment when he realized how little he truly knew about the country he would one day head by your side. "And you shouldn't lie, even if you're able to, unlike us. It's rude and many of us don't take well to being lied to. You don't want to be on the bad side of some fae. Of course you can't always tell the whole truth, but a partial truth is better than no truth at all."

He hummed.

"Oh, and the last thing before I leave you be, it's not my people."

"What do you mean?" He asked.

"You always say my people, but that's not right. They're your people too now. They'll appreciate knowing that you care about them enough to call them kin."

You gave him a smile before giving him a small nod and excusing yourself. You walked away then, you had your own schedules for the day to attend to, and surely Felix would spend his day resting. After all, he was still a guest and he couldn't be expected to follow you in every bit of your daily affairs. Especially not the ones above his rank. But nevertheless, you found yourself wondering about what he was doing as you went through your day, about where on the grounds he was, what trouble he may stumble into. That thought brought something like a spiked sort of worry.

And by dinner you were anxious to see him, something you weren't quite accustomed to feeling. Still, you asked about his day, and he told you in great detail. It hadn't been very interesting, he'd said, but he'd gotten a chance to sit in on training of the newest round of knights, something that Jisung and Changbin helped with. You were grateful at least that your friends got along well with your future husband. Not that you imagined anyone to be anything less than tolerant towards someone as kind and passionate as Felix.

The next day was more of the same, only getting the chance to see Felix at mealtime or in passing between your meetings until the afternoon when you were due to travel into town for the festival being held in your honor. And the entire time you were stuck in the same spin of wondering what he was doing, what you were missing, if people were treating him as you wanted them to.

You were helped into the carriage, sitting between Changbin and Jisung with Felix sitting across from you. The energy was tangible, warm and thrumming with nerves and excitement and practically vibrating with the need to be let free. The ride was quiet like that, your hand in Changbin's and your leg pressed close to Jisung's, and your eyes trailing back and forth from the window to your right and Felix's face, studying him for any sign of what may be going on behind his mask.

The ride wasn't very far to the center of town. The crowds cheered as your carriage was pulled down the crowded streets, and children waved with stars in their eyes, stretching for a glance at the royalty tucked safely behind the doors. You were buzzing with anticipation. You used to have these festivals much more often when you were younger. Your mother had always said that in times of stress, a little joy was always the best remedy. You had never stopped believing that, but it had become quite a bit more difficult to organize things like this over the past few years.

When your carriage pulled to a stop, you looked at Felix, you smiled wider than he'd ever seen it before.

"Are you ready?" You asked him. He inhaled, looking out the windows at the crowded street. He'd never been to anything like this, but the excitement was tangible. He nodded.

"I'm ready."

Changbin was the first to climb out, ushering Felix out onto the street, a mosaic of colored stones that seemed to fit together perfectly like strangely shaped puzzle pieces. Then Felix reached a hand up for yours, helping you down the step onto solid ground. The cheers that rose from the crowd were like music as you bowed to your people.

In front of you a young girl stepped forward from the crowd, not yet into her teenage years, and she bowed deeply. You smiled, stepping forward to meet her. You placed a hand on her cheek, telling her to rise. She did then, holding her arms out with trembling hands. Laying in them were two ringlets of flowers, alternating colors which Felix was still sure he'd never even seen flowers grow in before.

"For you, your highness. And for his royal highness, Prince Felix as well." She said, wagering a glance at Felix. He looked wholly taken aback by her little act of kindness. You however took it in stride, taking a broach that had been pinned into your cloak off and placing the iridescent jewel in her palm in exchange for the crowns.

"I'm very grateful, they're beautiful. What a wonderful way to start off the festival." You said, placing the first one on your head, letting it settle over your hair. Then you turned to Felix, motioning for him to lean his head closer. He did so, half confused and half nervous that in his anxious state he'd tip over all together. You placed the flowers carefully against the blonde of his hair, smiling when he straightened up.

"It looks wonderful. I think you’re really beginning to fit in here, Lix." You said, quiet enough that your words were played just for the two of you. You brushed a stray lock of his hair away from his cheek, tucking it behind his ear before turning back to your people. "Well, let's not waste the day away standing on the streets. This is a festival after all."

You motioned for everyone to take to the decorated streets, to join in the merriment that you were all but bubbling over with. And so of course they did, the crowd stretching along the streets as far as the eye could see. There were flower crowns being sold, and food and drink being shared without a care. Music rose from every corner, and children ran and played in the streets. Everywhere that Felix looked was filled with light.

"Come on, Felix, we're going to miss out if you keep standing there," You told him, already turning to take off in the direction of a food stand. You eagerly passed over enough coins that you probably could have bought the entire stand, picking out a handful of pastries and passing them to the boys. Felix was noticeably hesitant to try the foreign food, but you took a bite, not caring about the jam that lingered on your lip. You hummed, and your wings fluttered in delight. Of course Felix had to take a bite then, letting the warm pastry melt in his mouth. It was sweet, and tasted like berries, but he couldn't place what sort.

"They're native to our country. Our biggest export actually, but your people haven't accepted them in ages. You're missing out. Maybe that should be our first change. We can't have your people missing out on an absolute delicacy." You said, and honestly Felix was pretty sure you were correct, even if it was a joke. He finished off his pastry, taking another one gratefully before being led on his way.

Felix noticed again the way you walked, how your feet barely touched the ground, and the way that they never made a sound against the stone like he did. He noticed that nearly everywhere, actually. The way that it was hard to keep track of how you flitted back and forth across the crowded streets. The way that it sparked a wave of panic every time that he lost sight of you.

The sun rose higher, and the sunlight was more golden here than it was back home, and it made the gems and flowers that strung from the roofs of the buildings along the street glitter like candlelight. The longer he was here, the more Felix began to understand your joy. He was laughing now too, humming to the music being played by a group of older citizens nearby when you gasped sharply. His eyes turned to you immediately, his hand flying for the dagger tucked against his leg. But you were grinning, and you reached out to tug at his wrist.

"Felix, look. They're dancing." You said. And he did look, and you were certainly correct. In the square nearby, people spun and skipped in intricate patterns, their clothes twisting around their bodies as they tipped their heads back to the sky. "Can we join them?"

Felix stood there in shock at your question. It wasn't that he couldn't dance, he was quite a skilled dancer, but this wasn't like the balls he had grown up in, not like the stiff, careful dancing that he'd been trained in all his life.

"Well, if you're not going to dance with me, I'll go with Changbin." You said, letting go of his hand to take Changbin's instead. If he were being honest, Felix was pretty sure that Changbin had been expecting this turn of events given the way he easily passed off his sword to Jisung and followed you to the square. Felix of course followed you, stopping at the edge of the dancers spiraling back and forth.

The cheers and clapping could be felt in his chest, and his eyes were trained only on you as you spun around the circle, hopping and skipping and swinging to the middle and back again in the whirling pattern that you seemed to understand in an instant. You looked so free, all the worry that he'd grown used to seeing having washed off of your face. You were laughing, and if he listened, he could hear it above the crowd, musical and sweet like berry syrup. His stomach twisted, and his heart picked up when you spun close to him. You looked at him, met his eye, and you lit up, motioning for him to join you once again. Still, he adamantly shook his head. No, the view was better from here.

When the song ended, you were standing a bit away from him, your chest rising and falling as you tried to catch your breath. Your hair was sticking to your forehead, and the crown you'd put on your head was tilted funny now, half falling towards your face. But you looked beautiful, even more so when you did a tiny hop, grabbing at Changbin to beg him to go again when the next song picked up.

"For a man who doesn't have feelings for someone, you're sure are staring at them a lot, your highness." Jisung said, leaning close to the young prince. Felix's face flushed, and he cleared his throat.

"I'm not staring." He insisted, but his argument was cut off by Changbin pulling you away from the dancing. You were glowing, and Felix had to remind himself not to gape at you. You pushed your hair away from your face, beaming at him.

"I'll get you to dance with me someday, your highness," You said. He reached out, straightening the flowers sitting on your head.

"No more than necessary, my prince." He gave you a smile, and you didn't respond. You were sure you could get him to let loose eventually, he was already right at the precipice, you could see it in his eyes.

The rest of the festival went similarly, tasting food at various booths, and watching the children running and playing in the street. He had gotten incredibly used to having you tug on his hand, pulling him wherever your mind took you. He didn't mind it, and he wasn't sure if you even noticed you were doing it. You only let go when a small flurry of children came running up to him.

Felix liked children, not that he had a whole lot of experience interacting with them, besides his younger sister of course. But now they were gently tugging at his clothes and asking him questions. You let go of his hand, and he crouched to speak to them. His smile was sweet, and he moved his hair out of the way to show them his ears when asked about them. All the while, you stood to the side, watching him and wondering if he was as irritating as you'd come to expect him to be.

The day faded all too quickly to evening, and though the festival was still in full swing, as it would be for nearly another day you were sure, the children in the streets were being dragged away to bed. There were more couples out now, snacking on street food and walking hand in hand. Which was essentially what you and Felix were doing now, your hand tucked into the crook of his arm as you led him away from the crowds.

The sun had set long ago, but the moon shone down over the street, and lights floated above your head, twinkling like stars caught in mid-air. They were beautiful, making light move across your face in a way that fully illuminated your smile.

"Did you have fun?" You asked him. He nodded a little. You were far enough away now that the music was lowering to a faint background noise. "It's been such a long time since I've been to a festival like this. It's even better than I remember it being when I was a kid."

You let go of his arm, hopping up onto the small stone wall that lined the street here, a barricade between the road and the houses off of them. You balanced carefully, your arms outstretched at your sides. Felix walked alongside you, keeping his hand out in case you needed to grab onto him for support.

"It's amazing. I've never seen anything like it. We don't have many festivals back home." He admitted to you. The look of disappointment that you sent him made his chest tighten. "We're not boring, don't think that. But my father isn't a fan of things like this. He prefers shows and balls and stuff. He thinks it's more sophisticated."

You scrunched up your nose, doing a little hop over a spot where the stone of the wall had begun crumbling. You gasped at the way your ankle wobbled when you landed, your body swaying to the side. Felix caught your waist, nearly pulling you tumbling down altogether. When you looked at him, his eyes were wide, his lips parted in a silent gasp. You grabbed his wrists, rebalancing yourself on your feet but not shaking off his touch just yet.

"Yes, well," You let out a breath, letting go of him and moving to take your next steps on your makeshift balance beam. "Sophistication isn't everything. If everyone were to value sophistication over joy, the world would be a terrible place to live."

Felix watched your next few steps, wiping his clammy palms over his pants a couple of times before stepping to catch up with you.

"Did you play as a kid? Running around outside and whatnot?" You asked him. He looked a bit surprised by the question.

"My sisters and I played, not often outside. We weren't supposed to run inside, but our mom was laid back about it." He laughed, and you could swear it was the first time you had truly seen him look comfortable around you.

"You're close with your sisters?" You asked.

"Not as much as I was when I was younger. I don't have much time to see them anymore."

You frowned at the answer, making a mental note to make sure that once you were married and things were more settled in that you'd invite his sisters around often. You were an only child, but you couldn't imagine being separated from Changbin and Jisung. It could only be more difficult to be apart from your actual family.

"I don't have siblings, but I was close with my mother." You said. "She passed when I was younger, but she would have liked you, I think. You know what you believe, and you don't let anyone convince you of anything else. She valued that."

Felix took your hand as you came to the end of the wall, helping you jump to the ground. It was quiet here, nothing but the sound of the breeze rustling through tree leaves, and bugs chirping in the dark.

"Your mother sounds lovely," He said, not entirely sure how to navigate such a sensitive subject. You forced a small smile.

"She was. I want to be just like her," You looked over at him, and there wasn't a need for words then. You were both sharing pieces of yourselves that rarely saw the light of day, both showing more of yourselves than you had before. He didn't let go of your hand as the two of you made your way back towards where your carriage where your friends were no doubt waiting to take you back home.

The next morning brought the ache in your muscles and a sense of satisfaction as you stretched across your bed. The sun was up now, and it was later than you'd normally wake up. The peaceful moment was cut short too soon, a firm knock on your door before it swung open.

"You know, the point of knocking is to ask permission to come in. I don't think you're supposed to barge in right after you knock." You huffed, sitting up and making room for Jisung to perch himself on the edge of your bed. He handed you a piece of paper.

You unfolded it, reading the letter quietly. Your invitation to visit Felix's home, to be introduced to your future family. You stared at it, scanning the handwriting – his mother’s it would seem if you were reading the signature correctly – and the crest stamped onto the top of the paper. You knew it was coming, it had essentially been the only thing that had been spoken of since your engagement had been announced, but holding the letter in your hand felt surreal. Jisung reached out, putting his hand on your wrist.

"Y/N," He said. You looked at him, eyes wide. "It'll be fine. You have a few days still, just relax for now. Felix will be with you, and Changbin and I are coming too."

You nodded. You knew they'd go with you wherever you went, and that would be more than enough to get you through. But it was hard not to be overwhelmed by the idea of crossing into enemy territory where you knew you weren't welcomed.

"You should get ready for breakfast. I'm sure your father will want to talk to you about this." Jisung stood, ruffling your hair and laughing at the way that you swatted at his hand. With him out of your room, you were left to accept your fate, dragging yourself out of the safety of your bed to clean up and meet your father at breakfast.

The day was going about as well as you expected it to. Your father was giving you a full length rundown on what you needed to remember, how to make the best possible impression on people that already didn't like you very much. Part of you was relieved that Felix didn't show up for breakfast. The other part of you wondered if maybe he'd already left for home without warning you.

"Have you seen Felix?" You asked your father at the first given opportunity. He looked at you curiously, and you tried not to read into it. He shook his head.

"I haven't. Maybe one of your boys knows where he is. Why don't you go check up on him before he leaves?" Your father said. He was always good at reading you like that, knowing exactly what was going on in your mind. You were never great at hiding your thoughts, you'd learned that the hard way, but your father was even better at reading between the lines. Irritating.

"Thank you. I'll find you later," You smiled, excusing yourself to go in search of Jisung. Finding Jisung turned out to be quite unhelpful, he had been in charge of training for the day, and Felix was no longer under his watch. Which meant that you were on yet another wild goose chase, this time with your less than helpful best friend on your heels.

You’d hoped that maybe someone could point you in Felix’s direction, but the better part of an hour spent scouring the halls and rooms of the palace turned up nothing. Eventually, confused and frustrated, you excused yourself. Either Felix had left without a word, which seemed terribly unlike him, or he wasn’t looking to be found. There was no point in wasting a beautiful day without a packed schedule on searching for someone with no intentions of showing themselves.

As you often did when your anxieties were getting the better of you, you took to the outside, kicking your shoes off so that you could feel the bumps and dips of the ground beneath them as you wandered the gardens. Once you were far enough from the castle that no poor soul would wander across you unintentionally, you sprawled out on the ground, taking a deep breath.

The wind chimes in the garden had a way of calming you down, a song on the breeze as you laid in the grass. If you tried hard enough, you could practically hear the earth's energy thrumming under your body. Or maybe that was your own heartbeat, heavy and overtaking everything else.

Fear was a part of being alive, you knew that, but you hadn't missed feeling it so often. You didn't want to go to Felix's country, to the place you may one day call home, you didn't want to face any more scrutiny. You knew it wasn't gonna be easy, things rarely were, but you were beginning to wonder if you were strong enough to face it all head on.

You didn't know how long you laid there for, staring at the clouds as they morphed and passed overhead. The sun was high in the sky now, and hunger was beginning to settle in your stomach, but you still didn't feel much like moving.

"Mind some company?" Felix looked tired when he found you. You propped yourself up on your elbows to look at him. He didn't wait for your answer, laying himself in the grass beside you. "You know, there really should be a map of the gardens available, I was wandering in circles for ages before I found you."

You laughed.

"It's not so confusing, you just weren't paying attention on the tour." You said, turning to look at him. He giggled in response, and you felt a little bit better about everything.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked you. You looked back at the sky, lowering yourself back down to lay in the grass.

"Thinking. The fresh air helps keep me calm." You admitted. He made a quiet noise of recognition, clearly understanding the sentiment. "Can I tell you something? Something really stupid?"

He nodded, and you took a breath before speaking again.

"I'm really afraid. I don't know if I'm going to be able to pull this off." You said. Felix stayed quiet, and you figured he was waiting for you to elaborate. "I can't lie, and your family already doesn't like the fair folk. What's to say that they won't sabotage us?"

"Oh, that's easy." Felix said. "I won't let them. They might not like my decision, but there's not a thing about you that they can disapprove of, not really. Except your heritage, and they’d be stupid to try and intervene because of that. And if they can't find a good reason to disapprove of you, they won’t be able to call off what we've already started."

You didn't speak. You knew that they'd try. And of course you and Felix had been working to ensure there wasn't a single crack in the foundation of your plan, but you were still struggling to find security.

"Hey, do you trust me?" He asked. You looked at him.

"Yes." You trusted him more than you had even realized now that you thought about it. You trusted him with your life, and your secrets, and your space, and you were still on the fence about if that made you feel more secure or less.

"Then don't you worry your pretty little head." He stood up and held a hand out for you to take. You did, letting him help you to your feet. "I'm leaving in a little while, I have to meet with my parents and everything, get things set up for you to come. I wanted to say goodbye before I leave."

"Right, I had been looking for you too. I thought you'd already left, nobody knew where you were." You said, brushing off your clothes.

"Without saying goodbye? Never." He beamed, and you huffed out an almost laugh. “I found the library the other night, I’ve been studying up on Fae history. I figure it’s the sort of thing I should know about if I’m going to become King.”

You didn’t have any words for that, still not fully used to seeing him being serious about the whole situation. It was finally beginning to sink in that this was more than some elaborate trick, it was a marriage. You were going to truly promise yourself to him for the rest of your lives. You didn’t have anything more to say to that.

Felix let you lead the way back to the castle, reassuring you and going over his plans as many times as he could manage before you were back inside. Once you were inside, he promised that he'd do everything he could to make your stay less stressful.

"I'm serious, Y/N. We're gonna win, and we're gonna achieve our goals." He said, squeezing your hands before saying a quick goodbye, bowing to you deeply. You rolled your eyes at the grin on his lips when he straightened up. "I'll see you around, my prince."

Felix arrived back to his home late in the evening. The familiar paths into his city felt colder than usual, not as welcoming as he'd remembered them being. Everything gleamed silver and emerald green as he passed through the trees, and the buildings weaved and settled between them. Of course coming home was a relief, a reminder of what he was fighting for, but part of him ached to be able to be with you when you saw his home for the first time. That thought didn't last very long, it didn't have the chance as he was brought to the front steps of the palace.

Standing out front was his closest friend, clearly itching to greet him. Felix hurried to meet him, nearly jumping out of the carriage and wrapping his arms tight around Chan’s neck. His friend laughed.

"Congratulations, Felix." He said, squeezing his shoulders. "I can't believe you're getting married. My little brother all grown up,"

Felix shrugged off the teasing, flashing a matching grin to the older man as his things were unloaded by some of the palace workers.

"I can't believe they agreed to it. Just wait until you meet them.” He said. He was already on his way up the steps with his friend hot on his heels. "They'll be here the day after tomorrow, there's so much to do. Where are my parents?"

Being home brought a sense of ease that Felix had missed. He knew how to go about life here, how to interact with the people around him. He knew the halls like the back of his hand. He walked with Chan at his side all the way to his father's office. He was a ball of energy, not that energy was unprecedented for him. He opened the door without knocking, and his father didn't look the least bit surprised by the intrusion.

"Welcome home," He said, looking up from the papers he'd been working on. Felix bowed his head to his father before venturing further into the room. He sat down in the chair opposite him.

"It's nice to be back. Have things been alright while I was away?" He asked. His father straightened up, folding his hands on the desk in front of him, and Felix hummed, already knowing that this was going to be less than ideal.

"People want to know what's going on. They were bothered by your absence, you've never been one to leave for very long." He said. Felix nodded. "I haven't told them. I've been hoping you'd come to your senses."

"I have come to my senses, that's why I asked them to marry me in the first place. They'll be here in a few days, I'll make the announcement then. Is there a room set up for them?"

His father didn't speak, but that was enough of an answer. Felix stood up.

"Excuse me, then. I have to take care of getting things ready for the prince’s stay. I'll see you at dinner?"

With a final bow of his head, Felix swept out of the room, and Chan followed him. Felix's father wasn't a cold man, at least he never had been, but Felix knew well that they didn't see eye to eye on many things. He knew that he was taking a risk in marrying you without his family's approval, but he'd hoped all the same that his father would have come around to the idea after a few weeks of being apart.

"Right, do you know where my mom is?" Felix asked Chan, heading towards...well he actually wasn't sure where he was headed. His plans were minimal, and he'd never had to prepare for a guest like you before.

"She's away with your sisters, I think. She should be home in the morning." Chan explained. Felix sighed, and his friend slung an arm around his shoulders. "Relax, I started up arrangements as soon as I heard. Pick a room for them and we'll handle the rest."

So Felix took his time, examining several rooms in the guest wing until his workers were beginning to get fed up with the wait. He picked the one with the best view, an overlook of the river and the lush greenery that grew along it. It was the closest thing that he could find to the views back in the Fae realm.

"Why are you so worried?" Chan asked after a while of Felix hovering around the workers as they tried to set things up.

"They're scared." Felix answered easily. "Don't tell them I told you that, they're very proud. But I want this to be comfortable for them."

Admitting that out loud felt foreign, and he brushed off his friend's teasing as much as possible. Was it so abnormal to want someone to feel safe and comfortable when under your care?

"Do you think more candles would make this nicer?" He asked, looking around the room. "And we should get more blankets. It's colder here than they're used to."

Chan watched as his best friend fussed over the state of things. Chan had known Felix since they were kids, he was always the anxious type, but this was different. It was hard for him to even imagine that Felix didn't want to marry. Of course Felix hadn't told him that it was fake, but there weren't secrets between them. He'd know if Felix's feelings were true. Now, however, he was questioning how solid his theory about the legitimacy of the engagement was.

"Felix, maybe we can get this sorted out tomorrow, you have to be tired. And your mother can help better than I can." He squeezed Felix's shoulder, and his friend relaxed under the touch. He nodded, excusing the staff who were helping them. He sat at the edge of the bed, and Chan followed.

"Sorry. I just remember how stressed I was when I went there, and they were so accommodating. And you know how my dad is, I want to make sure they feel safe in here at least." He leaned back on his hands, groaning softly.

"I don't know how anyone could be uncomfortable with you," Chan promised. "Come on, I'm sure your betrothed wouldn't want you awake all night for their sake. Bedtime."

Felix didn't argue with Chan, he knew that he needed sleep, even if you probably wouldn't care if he stayed up all night. He laid awake in his bed, wondering again what you were doing, if the nerves were getting the best of you.

The morning wasn't any less stressful for Felix or the staff that had to deal with him. He was happy to see his mother, of course he was, and she did her best to keep him from getting lost in his head. However he was still overthinking every aspect of your visit that was under his control.

"Make sure to bring in extra blankets. It's warmer there than it is here." He mentioned once again, a message that Chan promptly passed on to one of the staff. Felix was quiet a moment longer, his friend and his mother letting him think. "Flowers, we should put flowers in their room. Carnations. No, wait."

Chan watched as a smile grew on his friend's face, a sure fire sign that he'd had a brilliant idea.

"I want lily of the valley in their room. Loads of them. Fresh. I don't care about the cost." He said. The staff shared looks, but they scurried off to have flowers brought up. Chan excused himself then too, leaving Felix alone with his mom. She smiled at her son. He finally looked like he'd let himself relax.

"You really care about them. I have to say I'm surprised." She said, reaching out to give Felix's hand an affectionate squeeze. Felix himself was a bit surprised too, a curiosity seeping in around the edges. When had he taken on this role of protecting you and fussing over you? Where was the line between make believe and reality? Had he crossed it already? It didn’t matter either way, he supposed,

"I do care about them. It's hard not to, you'll understand when you meet them." He said.

The ride from your kingdom to Felix's was long, and you had a hard time getting any rest what with the constant, shifting worry in your chest. Your friends were with you, the both of them doing their best not to let on how obvious your fear was. They were good to you like that, always trying not to make you feel too terribly transparent. Unfortunately, you'd gotten to know their tells pretty well, and it was only giving you more reason to worry.

"If you keep it up you'll stop breathing altogether," Jisung noted, a smile on his lips. You looked at him, laughing for the first time in days.

"Would that be so terrible?" You joked. Changbin gave your arm a light pinch, and you swatted at him. "Joking, only kidding. I'm nervous."

"But you'll get to see Felix again," Jisung pointed out. You ignored the flutter in your chest. Seeing Felix again might make this whole thing less suffocating. He was good, you had to finally admit to yourself that he was in fact very good. And marrying him may not be the end of the world after all.

"We're almost there, your highness." Changbin wrapped an arm around your shoulder, gesturing out the window. You could see the palace now, and the sprawling grounds that it sat on. A spread of deep green grass and trees so dense that you could hardly see through them. The palace stood tall, silvery and so bright that you could barely look at it with the sun beating down the way that it was.

Truly, it was all very beautiful, and it reminded you of Felix in its shimmering elegance. The stop of the carriage jolted you a little, and you straightened quickly. You'd been trained for this, you were a diplomat, and this was no different than any other diplomatic meeting you'd sat through. You were here to form an alliance.

You waited however impatiently for the door to your carriage to open, used to the order of events. Changbin got out first, decked out in full uniform, handing off his weapons. Then he helped you out with a small nod of reassurance. Jisung followed after, bringing up the rear. There were more guards than you were comfortable with, especially with the prejudices you'd heard of your entire life. Nevertheless, you rolled your shoulders back and took a deep breath. There wasn't enough time to work yourself up, because before you could, the doors to the palace were opening, and Felix was standing there, and things didn't seem nearly as intimidating as they had a few moments before.

He looked like he was out of breath, but his lips curled into a grin, and he laughed. The sound felt like pure sunbeams, warming your skin and making you laugh in return. His guards bowed in his presence, and you followed suit.

"Welcome," He waved you up the steps, and you didn't hesitate to walk them as quickly as you could without tripping. At the top of them, he caught your hand, bowing before you and bringing it to his lips. You rolled your eyes, and for a moment all of the stress was gone. "I meant to be out here when you arrived, but I got caught up."

"But you're here now. And thank goodness, because I think I might have died if I had to meet your parents without you." You said quietly, and he laughed. He offered you his arm, and you looped your hand into it, letting him lead you forward.

"How was your trip?" He asked. You shrugged.

"It was long, not particularly eventful. Your kingdom is beautiful. I never knew that," You admitted. He chuckled. When you looked at him, you couldn't help but notice all the ways that he looked different in the light of his home than he had in yours. His hair seemed curlier, falling around his face in waves, and his freckles were even more prominent, reminiscent of the way the stars dotted the sky back home really late at night. You wanted to look at them closer, but then he was turning to look at you.

"I'm glad you like it. It'll be yours soon, too." He met your eye, and his eyes looked brighter than they had before. You nodded, remembering the way you'd told him not to speak of your home and your people as if he were entirely separate from them.

"I'm glad to be a part of someplace like this." You said.

He stopped, and you looked at the doorway you stood in front of. The doors were large, thick slabs of wood intricately painted in gold and bronze, inlaid with gems you'd never seen in person before. The way the light hit them made it look like they were glowing. Felix laid his other hand over where yours rested in the crook of his elbow.

"It's gonna be fine. You know that right?" He asked you. You looked at him and put on your best smile.

"I trust you." You couldn't say that you knew that, you didn't really, but your trust in Felix was the next best thing. You probably wouldn't be willing to step foot in that room if it weren't for his presence at your side.

Felix nodded for the doors to be opened, and the guards did just that. Inside the room, it was just as intimidating as the doors. The vaulted ceilings were gilded gold, the color shifting in the light of the room into shades of red and orange. The pillars were intricately carved into the shapes of tree trunks so large and detailed that you wanted to reach out and touch them to see if they were real.

At the head of the room, a stunning couple sat in a pair of thrones. You let out a shaky breath as Felix let go of your hand. It fell to your side, and you took another couple steps forward before dipping into a deep bow. You held yourself there, your heartbeat thrumming deafeningly in your ears. They didn't speak for what felt like centuries, and your hands began to shake before finally the King acknowledged you.

"You may stand, prince of the fae." He said. And you did. "Welcome to our palace. It's been quite some time since we've had one of your kind in our midst."

You chewed on the inside of your cheek and put on a smile.

"Thank you, your majesty. It's been some time since my people have been welcomed into your home with such grace." You shouldn't have mentioned it, but you figured it was polite enough to slide. Felix stepped to your side, close enough that you could feel the warmth rolling off of him.

"Allow me to properly introduce you. Y/N, these are my parents. And this is Prince Y/N, my fiance." Felix was practically beaming, and you wondered if it was an act or if he was genuinely happy to be introducing you to his parents. You supposed it didn't matter either way. You smiled.

"It's truly an honor to meet you. You've raised a wonderful son, I'm grateful to have met him." You said. His mother seemed pleased with the compliment, but his father was still looking at you as if you were a nuisance, a speed bump in his way.

"You're serious about this wedding business, then?" His father asked. You stiffened, wings fluttering a little as you shifted your weight. Felix, however, clearly expected the question to come up.

"Of course we are. I don't typically joke about things as serious as my kingdom's future." He sounded irritated, his voice sharper than you were used to.

"I know it seems outlandish, but please understand that I really don't have ill intentions in marrying your son." You said.

"And why should I believe in a trickster? Your people are known for their mischief, aren't they? They find pleasure in causing problems for other people?" Your hands twitched towards fists, a look of disgust crossing your features. The king held up his hands in mock surrender. "I mean no offense, really. But with the things your people have done to my country, I have no reason to believe this is anything more than a power play."

"Father," Felix half snapped, his tone laying out a warning. He looked at you, and you couldn't read the look in his eye. Fear, or desperation, or concern. Something that made your chest feel heavy. You swallowed your pride, and the anger bubbling within you. How dare he speak to you like that, regardless of his position as king?

"It's alright, Felix. He's just worried about his kingdom. Any king would be. I was, too." You promised him. "I know the reputation that your people have given us, but it’s imperative to remember that mischief is harmless in nature. I wouldn't put my own people at risk by pulling some ridiculous stunt to bring down a perceived enemy. I'm not worried enough about this petty war to do something so underhanded."

The silence was thick, tension descending like fog, and you could practically hear your friends smirking from their positions just inside the doors. You couldn't imagine that they were holding up much better than you were, and you were half grateful that their weapons had been confiscated upon arriving with how proud they could be.

"And if it isn't for political gain, why would you want to marry into our family?" Felix's mother spoke this time, and you felt a little more at ease speaking to her. The question was one you'd practiced answering a hundred times. A twisted truth, an irrelevant response spoken like a proper answer.

"I know Felix will make a good husband. He's intelligent, and charming, and he will make a wonderful king one day." You said, turning to smile at him, and he smiled back, his cheeks tinting pink at the praise.

"How can you claim to want to marry someone you hardly know?" The king spoke again, this time aiming the sharp words towards Felix. He cleared his throat.

"I know them well enough. And I know where you stand on the fair folk, I wasn't going to rush into an introduction just to let anyone else come between us." He said. You hadn't ever heard Felix be so stern with anyone, and it was more jarring than you'd expected. "But I've wanted to be with them for a very long time now, and I know them better than nearly anyone in this place knows me."

His words hung in the air, and it almost looked like his mother wanted to call him to her, but she didn't. His father scoffed, and once again your heart sank.

"How long have you even known them? A month?" He asked.

"Centuries. We met as children at a masquerade a long time ago. And I've wanted to be with them from the moment I laid eyes on them." He said. And he said it with such conviction that you damn near believed it was true. The way he looked at you, the glimmer in his eye, you swallowed and lowered your eyes to the ground. "And now I get the chance to spend the rest of my life with them. I'd be a fool not to take it."

Once again it was quiet, and you looked up at them. Both of them were staring at you, sizing you up as you stood in front of them, and you ached to run away. Somehow standing here was even more terrifying than standing in front of the entire populace of your country. You could feel the anxiety building, the overwhelming want to simply not be there anymore, your engagement be damned. You were shaking again, and your breath was picking up too fast.

Felix's hand found yours, his fingers folding between yours and squeezing your hand tightly like you had squeezed his before. He soothed the shaking, holding you steady without so much as a tremble in the stare that he sent back towards his parents. He was protecting you at all costs, that had been his promise. And you trusted him, more than you trusted almost anyone. He wasn't going to let you down. This was going to work out.

"Your father approves of this?" The queen addressed you. You nodded.

"Yes, ma'am. He thinks Felix is lovely, that he'll make a good addition to our family and country." You answered her calmly. "And he knows that I don't take important decisions lightly."

"And you don't think there are any suitors that would be a better fit for...your kind?" The king questioned, leaning back in his throne as if you weren’t the wasted energy to sit up.

"I don't think there are any suitors who will understand me or my devotion to my people the way that Felix will."

"Are there other suitors at all? You seem quite keen on choosing my son."

"You don't seem keen on me choosing your son at all," You noted. "I can understand your hesitance, and I mean no disrespect, your majesty, but it doesn't seem fair not to trust your son's judgment. I've never met anyone as devoted to his people as Felix, he would give up anything for the things that he cares about. I admire that very much. And whether or not I have other suitors – which I do, I might add – he's the only one worth my time."

The room was growing quite warm, or maybe that was the way your anger was coming to a rolling boil in your chest. You were waiting eagerly for him to say another terrible thing about you, or your people, or, god forbid, about Felix. That didn't come, however. His father was entirely subdued by your statement, clearly biting his tongue. Instead, his mother smiled.

"It's getting late. I'm sure our guest is hungry and exhausted after such a long trip. How about we all get ourselves ready for dinner?" She said, standing up and smoothing her gown out. She looked at her husband, clearly not intending to take no for an answer. He nodded, and you bowed again.

"I'm grateful for your hospitality, your majesty." You said before Felix tugged at your hand. He bowed his head towards his parents and led you out of the room. You pulled your hand from his once the door was closed.

"Can you show their guards to their rooms?" Felix requested. You nodded for Changbin and Jisung to follow the staff down the hall, promising that you'd see them as soon as possible to fill them in on anything they missed. Once it was just the two of you, you turned to Felix with fire raging in your eyes that hadn’t been there moments before.

"Just what the hell do you think you're doing Lee Felix?" You snapped. He looked taken aback by your rage, his eyes going wide. He'd believed Changbin when he said that you could handle yourself, but this was downright terrifying. "Talking about us having met before, the story about the ball? We talked about this, I can't lie. You cannot risk backing me into a corner like that. I'm trying so fucking hard to be considerate, and you aren't even thinking about how you might impact me. You’re not the only one playing this game.”

Felix reached out, grabbing you by the shoulders and squeezing.

"What happened to trusting me? Tell me, did we meet before the day I showed up in your kingdom? Before the day I asked you to marry me?" He asked. You rolled your eyes, opening your mouth to say no, but the word seemed to slip away, just out of reach. You pressed your lips together at the familiar feeling of trying to tell a lie, the way it sucked your voice away and made you feel faint.

"We'd met before." You said after a moment, after the full realization that you couldn't say you didn't know him. "You never told me?"

"I didn't think it was relevant."

"Idiot." You shook his hands off of your arms, still frustrated that he'd managed to trick you, but much less angry than you'd begun.

"Don't you remember? At the human masquerade ball when we were young. During the winter holidays?" He asked you. You thought, it had been so long ago that it was tricky to decipher the moments from one another, all of the memories swirling together.

You weren't sure where your father had gotten off to, but you were left alone in the room full of people, the music was loud, and the voices that battled to be heard by one another were beginning to grate on you. There were plenty of adults around, talking about things that you didn't really care about. The children younger than you were running and playing, likely to their parents' disdain. Human parents seemed more strict about playfulness than your own people. It was strange to you.

You, however, were standing at the edge of the dance floor, watching the swirling pattern of the dress clothes as couples danced and spun around the floor in each other's arms. You loved dancing, but with your usual dance partners not permitted to attend the ball, and the only other person you knew your age being the guest of honor and having his own duties to attend to, you were left to watch on your own.

You stood there on your own for several songs, finally preparing yourself to say goodbye to your friend and beg your father to leave early. But as soon as the thought crossed your mind, a blonde haired boy stopped in front of you. He bowed, and when he straightened up you were met with the brightest grin you'd ever seen. The upper half of his face was obscured by his gold and white mask save for his dark brown eyes. You could see a hint of freckles if you looked close enough, and shone in the light of the ballroom.

"Would you like to dance?" He asked, holding out his hand to you. You looked at it, then at him once again. You didn't know him, at least not as far as you could recognize behind the mask. You took his hand, and let him lead you to the floor just in time for the next song to pick up.

The boy pulled you close, a hand on your waist and the other holding yours as you followed his lead, the string instruments filling the room like a wave of butterflies, the two of you dancing on their wings. He was friendly, and you talked to him all throughout the dance. He was a good dancer too, you noticed. An elf if his ears were anything to go off of.

"Do you know the Prince?" He asked you. You nodded, losing sight of him for a moment as the dance swept you away from him to spin in a circlet of dancers before returning to his arms.

"I do, I met him recently. Our families have been friends for a millennium." You answered. He smiled, and your stomach swooped at the sight.

"He's a close friend of mine, it's unfortunate that we haven't met before this." He said, leaning close to you. He smelled of citrus and damp soil, and honestly it was lovely.

"Well I'm glad we've met now. I was beginning to think I should just leave." You said in response. "But now I have a dance partner. Makes it worth staying."

"Do you like dancing then? That's why you came?"

"Dancing is the closest thing to flying. I haven't flown in a long time." You admitted.

The conversation went on like that, a steady back and forth, digging into things you wouldn't dare to tell anyone who knew you well. It was easy to talk to him, and as the night came to a close, as your mother told you it was time to leave, you were forced to say goodbye.

"Wait," You said, catching his hand in yours. He looked back at you. "May I know your name?"

He shook his head, and his hand slipped out of yours. Your heart sank. You'd known plenty of people who had disliked your people, who had their beliefs about you, however wrong they may be. But that hadn't ever bothered you.

"Because I'm fae?" You asked. He shook his head with a laugh of disbelief.

"No, it's not that," He brought your hand to his lips, kissing the back of it and watching your eyes go wide behind your mask. "But we all have things that are better left a secret, I think my identity is one of those things. But if we're meant to meet again, we will, I'm sure. Until next time."

His lips quirked into a smirk that held a sort of mischief you'd never seen from an elf before, and then he was slipping away into the crowd of people.

The memory had been tucked deep in your mind, buried far enough away that you hadn't thought of it in years.

"You knew who I was?" You asked.

"I recognized your parents, and Seungmin talked highly of you. It was easy enough to figure out." He shrugged, and you huffed again. Annoying, just as he always was.

"You could have at least warned me." You continued your scolding. He bowed his head with a sheepish half-grin that made it incredibly hard to stay irritated.

"I hope you can forgive me, I would hate to have you mad at me for the rest of our lives." He said. You could hear the uptick of a smile in his voice. You ignored it, opting to accept the apology. "Come on, let's get to dinner."

Dinner went about as uncomfortably as one could expect it to. His parents weren't your biggest fans, and the small talk was excruciating. The worst of it was the way they spoke of your people. Underhanded slander and backhanded compliments that stung like a slap to the face over and over again. The fair folk weren't keen on being spoken to the way you were being spoken to, and every comment made you feel more and more like you were being burned alive.

Throughout the night, the conversation weighed heavy. Questions about your intentions, about your dreams for the future. You maneuvered it as carefully as you could, and the whole time you could feel Felix's eyes on you. He tried as well as he could to keep things light, and you were genuinely grateful to have him on your side. It made enduring such torture a little bit easier.

You didn't get to see your friends during the meal, and by the time that you were finally being escorted to your room, it was too late to bother them with your frustrations. You decided that sleep might be the best choice for the time being, you'd at least get a moment with your boys in the morning.

The staff showed you to your room, noting that Changbin was roomed to your right, Jisung straight across the hall. You thanked them politely, letting yourself into the room. The second the door was closed, you were sighing, burying your face in your hands and trying to hide from the world around you. But your room smelled familiar, it smelled like home. Sweet, and light. You opened your eyes, letting your hands fall back to your sides.

The room was large, a sitting area in front of you, and a bed hidden behind bed curtains to your left. And everywhere you looked, perched beside the bed, and on the table in the sitting area, and sat on either side of the window were vases of flowers. Lily of the valley. Your favorite. An unspoken reminder from Felix that he cared enough to give you a piece of home.

You walked to the window, reaching out to brush your fingertips over the delicate flowers and watching as they danced under your touch. You blinked a few times, tears beginning to well in your eyes. This was too much, he was taking too much care to make you feel at peace even in a place that wanted nothing to do with you. You sniffled, letting out a little laugh. Maybe it wasn't love, but how could you wallow in self pity when you were marrying the kindest man you'd ever met?

You made a mental note to thank him for his hospitality, and you wondered if he knew how much he meant to you. You didn't think you'd tell him that part just yet. You sat at the edge of the bed, looking out the window at the river that laid below. The dark made it hard to make out anything else, but it was still lovely, watching the moon reflect on the water even from so far away.

Sleep came quickly once you finally settled in bed for, which you were incredibly grateful for, and the morning was as easy as mornings could be. You, despite loving the world and the chance to be in it, weren't a fan of waking up. However the sun coming straight in the window had other plans for you. So you reluctantly got cleaned up, and settled in the window for a bit more time observing the country from afar.

A knock on your door startled you out of your thoughts, and you fully expected it to be Changbin coming to check on you. When you opened it, however, Felix was standing there looking just as radiant as he had the day before. In his hands was a sizable tray of food.

"I brought you breakfast. I figured you could use a little rest before going back into battle with my parents." He said, holding the tray out for you. You took it, only finally realizing that you were beginning to get hungry.

"Come in," You motioned for him to come inside, bringing the tray of food to sit on the small table. He made himself comfortable, sitting down in one of the chairs and motioning for you to sit and eat. And of course it would be rude to decline such an offer from your host. You sat down, quickly beginning to eat from a bowl of berries that were served up for you.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked. You nodded.

"Yeah, I slept great. And the flowers and everything…It’s all amazing, I really needed that last night." You gave him an appreciative smile, turning back to your meal. Felix puffed up with pride, happy to have gotten at least something right to make you comfortable during your trip.

"Good. My father is busy today, so I can show you around if you want. Or you can just relax." He said. You shrugged.

"Maybe we can do both. We can spend some time here, work out some of the logistics of everything. And you can show me around later if you want to. I'd love to see." You offered him a piece of strawberry on the end of your fork. He leaned forward and took it.

"Yeah, that works for me." He agreed. You smiled, poking at your eggs.

"Right then. So we're engaged, and I'm meeting your family now. I think, for everyone's sake, it's better for us to get on with the wedding as soon as possible. To get everyone off our backs and so we don't have to keep tricking everyone all the time."

If you were being honest, the secrets were getting overwhelming. You were an honest person by nature, and having to keep everything hidden was exhausting. Felix seemed to understand by the way he hummed in agreement.

"Right. So we should get to finalizing everything soon. The date and invitations and stuff? There's some hoops to jump through, right?" He said. You nodded.

"I can handle most of the planning, now that you're back home I imagine you're busier than I am." You said. "Plus I have Changbin to help. He might be a dork, but he's reliable."

"And I can introduce you to some friends, they'll be able to help when I'm busy. But I don't want you to think that you're alone in this either, I want to help." He said. You smiled. He wanted to help? This man and his surprises.

"Right, of course. And I won't make any final decisions without your approval. You will only get one wedding, I'm afraid. You're stuck with me." You nudged at his arm, and he had to note that you'd never touched him so casually. He liked knowing that you were comfortable around him.

"Oh, we’ll have to figure out customs and such. I don’t know much about Elven culture and weddings. If there’s important things I need to plan for, you have to tell me" You said.

Much to your surprise, talking to Felix about your wedding wasn't full of dread. It was actually quite fun to plan it all out. You may even, if you were going to admit it, go so far as to say you were growing excited at the prospect of the wedding. When the first break came around, you'd both been discussing wedding customs for nearly two hours. It was funny how relaxed you were when it was just you and Felix, and you were relieved to see that he felt the same way.

"I wanted to tell you that I really didn't intend to upset you with the story about us meeting," Felix said. "I know it wasn't very fair to assume you remembered, and you're right, I didn't think before I spoke. That might be my fatal flaw."

"It's really fine. I remember always wondering what you were so mysterious for back then. And I never saw you again after that night."

"Honestly, it was ridiculous. I wanted you to try and find me again. I thought you were cute," He laughed. The sort of frantic nervous laugh that he let out when he said something embarrassing. "I figured that since we were both friends with Seungmin it would be easy, but I never heard from you. I asked about you, you know?"

"You asked about me?"

"Yeah, I was close with him for a long time, and I swear I asked about you every time I saw him for a while. He never had any news to report. I actually thought for a while that you stopped talking to him because of me."

You laughed, shifting in your seat to look at him better.

"You know, not everything is about you." You teased him. He laughed too, and you were glad that he recognized your joke. "It's been a really long time since I've been friends with anyone outside my own kingdom. It's just been me, Changbin, and Jisung most of our lives."

"Why?"

"I stopped leaving home. Diplomacy wasn't as safe anymore, it was left mostly to my father. And he didn't like me to leave unless necessary after my mother."

"She passed when you were young right? Not long after we met."

You nodded, looking down at your hands and pressing your lips together. You didn't talk about your mother very often. Honestly, you didn't need to. It had been a long time since you'd lost her, and the sting had finally faded into a nagging itch when you thought about her. But you spent plenty of time at her tree in the gardens, or talking to her when things were hard. She couldn't respond, but it always helped.

"She was fighting in the war. My father didn't want her on the front lines, but she was the best archer that our people had. The battles weren't usually as long winded or as fatal as that one." You let out a laugh, bitter and wet as you blinked back tears. "My father was destroyed. The fair folk marry for life, you know. My parents were the closest thing to soulmates I'd ever seen. Losing my mother made my father bitter. He wanted to take away as much from as many elves as he could. That's why I'm determined to end it. I don't want it to eat away at him any longer. I don't want it to eat away at me any longer."

Felix didn't speak, and you couldn't really blame him for not knowing what to say. You sniffled and cleared your throat. You rarely got so emotional over it all.

"Anyway, where were we?" You said, nodding to the lists that the two of you had been working on. Guests and arrangements. The colors, the flowers. You knew it was involved, but this seemed all too much. The guest list was more than the amount of people you even knew by name, and to think that you'd be signing your life away in front of them all was overwhelming.

"I think we've worked enough for the day, don't you?" Felix asked. You were reluctant, there was only so much time that you could spend, but you gave in. "Let me show you my home,"

The rest of your day was spent walking the castle grounds, exploring all of the places that Felix had played as a child, the places he went when there were things on his mind. It was beautiful, you had to admit. The trees were tall, surrounding the castle like a wall, and you ached to climb into their limbs. The entire country appeared to be lush, darker shades of green than you were used to back home, and the silvery-grey of the palace nearly blended in with the filtered light through the trees.

Hearing about Felix’s life made it feel like this was real, nothing more than visiting someone that you were growing fond of spending time with. The pressure was gone as you followed his lead, watching him show off a rather rusty cartwheel and laughing when you did one in return. You felt like a kid again, the same way you’d felt when you first met him.

The next few weeks after your little tour were busier than you were used to. When you weren't being subjected to the harsh criticism of your future in-laws, you were wedding planning with Felix, and if you weren't wedding planning with Felix you were working on arrangements with his friends. You were grateful for them too, knowing anyone else in the entirety of the country made you feel a little more at home.

However, Changbin had been nagging that the stress wasn't good for you. You knew he was right, but the wedding date was closing in faster than you could really comprehend. You were pacing your room, flipping through the various papers and lists that you needed to finish. You'd had all of the invitations sent out already, and you'd left catering to Chan to sort, but now you were having to decide between the different types of decorations. Who even knew there was a difference between half of these fabrics?

"Will you please just take a break?" Felix begged from where he was sprawled across your bed. He had been helping as much as he could, but he had plenty on his plate too. You shook your head.

"I need to get this taken care of." You tossed a couple fabric swatches to him. "Which one of these is better for the tablecloths?"

He brushed them both aside without a second thought.

"Either one is fine. I don't think it matters that much." He said. You huffed, walking over to pick up the samples, smoothing them out again and putting them back on the table with the others. "Felix, you're not helping. I can't do everything myself, you know."

You rubbed your hands over your face. You still had to organize your final fittings, and Felix's probably since you were pretty sure he hadn't gotten that taken care of either. You sat down in the chair. You had hardly been sleeping, and your head was pounding.

"Seriously, you need a break. Have you eaten? I can have something made." He said, sitting up. You shook your head.

"I don't want to eat, dinner will be soon. I just want to get this shit over with." You knew you were being snippy, and that not everything was Felix's fault, but you were beginning to feel alone in whatever this convoluted engagement was, and it was absolutely exhausting. "The sooner we get this wedding over with, the sooner we can just stop playing this ridiculous game."

With your head in your hands you couldn't see the way Felix deflated, you couldn't see the look of hurt that flashed across his face. He scoffed. Right, game. He had just about forgotten that this was all some game of house, all a means to an end.

"I'm pretty sure I'm just getting in your way now." He said, standing up from your bed. "I'm gonna take a break. We can pick this back up after dinner time."

You stood up too, turning to face him as he reached your bedroom door.

"I just said I wanted to finish this, and you’re taking a break? I know you don't want to do any of this but we have to. You're the one who got me into this, I need your help." You were practically begging now, your voice rising louder than you should have let it.

"I get it, you're stressed. But I don't know why you care so much about this wedding. It's not like you actually want to marry me in the first place. So let's just take a break. It's gonna be fine." His voice was thick, the weight of his words just a painful reminder that he was throwing himself mind, heart, and soul into a one sided marriage. The pain he was willing to endure for his country had no end it would seem.

"Yes I do, Felix." You said, fully shouting now. There was no hesitation as the words came out. He stopped in his tracks, and his eyes searched your face. You tipped your head down, avoiding his gaze at all costs. Your heart was beating hard enough that it was rattling your chest. It felt like you couldn't catch your breath, and your hands were shaking with nerves again. Damn your hands, and damn your anxiety, and damn the world for putting you through stress when all you wanted was a moment to breathe.

"You do what?" He asked. You didn't answer. So again, he asked you. "You do what, Y/N? Tell me."

You do what? You care? You want this? Was that it? You wanted to marry Felix? Of course you did, anyone would be stupid not to. You'd met plenty of people in your life, but none of them were so glowingly good as Lee Felix. He was a dream wrapped up in pretty packaging, and he was good to you. What more could you really ask?

“I want to marry you. I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to marry you." You said. "I want to do what's best for the people who rely on me, and I want to do right by you. I wouldn't marry you if I was going to make you miserable for the rest of your life."

Felix still looked like a kicked puppy, and you wondered if his mind was racing as fast as yours was, if his body was overheating like yours. Was it stuffy in your room? You moved to open the window, leaning against the window sill and staring at the river.

"I need to get ready for dinner. Can you..." You didn't want to speak for fear of bursting at the seams and spilling your deepest secrets. You were already dangerously close to a precipice that was looking all too inviting. A leap of faith so to speak, a chance to stretch your wings and test the limits of your emotions.

"Right. I'll see you at dinner, then." He said quietly. Your throat felt like it was closing, choking down your breath and your panic in one fell swoop. He sounded almost broken. You'd never heard him sound like that, and it was making some sharp, sour feeling bloom in your stomach. The door to your room closed, and you let out a shaky breath.

It was another hour until dinner, and all you did during that hour was pace your room so much that you half worried you'd walk a hole through the floor. That, however, was the least of your worries. You tried to get some more work finished, but the only thing you could think about was the conversation you'd had, and the look on his face when Felix left. You'd wanted to comfort him, to make it better, to soften whatever blows he was taking.

When you made it to dinner, the conversation at the table was much quieter than usual, mostly to do with the fact that Felix wasn't trying to bridge the gap between you and his parents. As far as they were concerned, you were no threat anymore, but you weren't family either. They had traded contempt for utter indifference that left your encounters with one another dry and empty. You wondered where Felix got his sunshine-y nature from.

You looked up from your meal, across the table to where Felix was sitting. He didn't look like he'd eaten more than a handful of bites in the past twenty minutes since he'd sat down. Although, in all fairness, you hadn't either. You could tell that his parents had noticed the change too, and you bitterly wondered if they blamed you for it. You blamed yourself for it, it would make sense for them to as well.

"Forgive me, I don't feel very well. I think I should excuse myself." You said. The king nodded, and you stood. Felix was quick to stand with you, but you shook your head. "I can go on my own. You should finish eating with your parents."

He sat down slowly, and you turned to leave. You could feel the burning of their eyes on your back, and you pushed down the embarrassment that rose with it. You walked for so long that you weren't actually sure where it was that you were going, down winding halls, up and down unfamiliar staircases until you somehow managed to land in front of Changbin's door. Fate, you figured in the back of your mind, it meant you needed him most right now.

You brought your hand up, knocking a few times and praying that he was inside. You waited for a long moment, seconds of silence ticking by and suffocating you. You knocked again, even louder this time, desperately. You could hear sound behind the door, and you suddenly worried that you'd interrupted something more intimate than you'd like to. How would you have known, you'd hardly seen him with how much you were moving around the past few days. He opened the door, looking baffled but put together enough that it eased your nerves.

"Do you have a few minutes?" You asked, looking away from him, instead focusing over his shoulders into his room. Anything to keep you from having to meet his eye. He stepped aside so you could come inside. You thanked him quietly, walking in and sitting down at the edge of his bed. He moved to sit at the center of it, waiting for you to begin.

The thing about Seo Changbin is that after so many years of being best friends, he knew you better than yourself. He was distinctly good at mapping out boundaries that you didn't know existed, or picking up on the subtleties of your emotions that you could swear up and down weren't there. It's precisely the reason that you would always seek him out at moments like this.

When he didn't speak, you flopped backwards, haphazardly falling into his lap. He laughed, and you smiled, grateful for the change in the energy. You looked up at him, and he put a hand on your shoulder, shaking it lightly.

"Alright, alright. I'm having a hard time with this wedding thing." You explained. His expression softened, his smile fading until it was a shadow over his worry. "I don't want to back out, or anything, it's not like that. But it's stressing me out a lot, and we argued, I guess."

"You and Felix?"

You nodded.

"What was the fight about?"

"I don’t think he cares about this wedding as much as I do. But it's important that it goes well, it's the only one we're going to have. And I don't not want to marry him, so it makes sense that I'd want our wedding to be perfect, right? But he just wants to get it over with. Which I guess I do too, but only because I don't want to carry all of the stress anymore."

You sat up, getting off the bed and beginning your pacing again. Being on your feet always helped you work through your chaotic thoughts easier. You paced, spinning in circles and bouncing on the balls of your feet while Changbin processed what you'd said.

"Right. So you fought because he doesn't want to get married?" He asked you.

"Sort of. We fought because he made me feel unimportant. And then he said that he knows I don't want to marry him and..." You stopped, groaning out dramatically. "I said that I do, and I don't know what I’m doing anymore. I’m so irritated, and I’m tired, and I’m lost"

You knew what you’d meant, but you weren't sure you could fully comprehend how to accept that truth. Admitting what you were feeling was accepting a completely different fate, it would change the entire plan. Most of all, the feeling it gave you made you want to bolt even more than you already did.

"Okay, why are you freaking out?" He asked. You looked at him, stopping your incessant pacing and instead fiddling with your fingers.

"I don't want there to be tension between us, and I don't want him to think that I'm marrying him because I think that I have to." You said after a moment of thinking. Changbin hummed, moving to the edge of the bed and resting his elbows on his knees. Having his attention on you made you restless, shifting your weight from side to side.

"Why are you marrying him, then? If you don’t think you have to," He asked. You didn't like the way he asked; The placement of his words, or the way he'd linger on a thought, mull it over in his head, then pick his words with a distinct care. It felt like a game of chess, all strategy. You'd never been any good at chess.

"Because it'll be good for us, for our countries. And I could do a lot worse, Felix is a good person." You said. Changbin nodded, still looking at you. You knew he was waiting for you to continue, but you weren't sure what to say so you just kept shifting your weight. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, the gentle swaying helped to sooth the racing of your heart in your chest.

"What makes him a good person?" He asked, "How do you feel about him?"

"He's smart, and charming, and he's not as stuck up as he seems at first." You said, a smile growing on your lips as you thought back on how much he'd irritated you when you'd first met him. "He's so passionate about so many things, and he loves when other people are passionate. And when he cares about someone, he cares about them so deeply that it's like they become a part of him."

"Is that why you want to marry him?"

You nodded. Changbin hummed, and you stopped moving finally.

"Y/N," You looked at him, and he gave you a half smile. "Do you love him?"

"What sort of question is that?” You hissed. “You know we’re playing pretend.”

“Do I? Answer the question.”

“He’s a good person, Bin. I mean, he’s smart, and he’s sweet, and he understands the way my brain works, and–”

“Hey!”

Your eyes snapped towards Changbin, your words cutting short. “Do you love Lee Felix?”

“Yes.”

Once again, the word slipped out before you could think about it, before you could dance around the question. And it was as if the entire world stopped spinning so suddenly that it knocked you off your feet. You stumbled back, your mouth agape as you tried to process the confession you'd made.

"Do you love him the way you love me?" Changbin kept pressing, but he sounded more careful now, like the wrong question would shatter whatever strength you still had in your body. You shook your head.

"No. No, I love him like I would rather never run or dance or fly or sing again if he wanted someone else. I love him so much that it scares me to even think about telling him. Because what if he doesn't love me like that? Like he needs me to breathe?" You were growing frantic, your wings flipping and fluttering in distress. Changbin stood up then, grabbing your hands to make you focus back on him.

"It's okay, breathe." Changbin tried, but you were too deep in your head, panic rising and tears welling in your eyes. Damn it all. You groaned.

"I need air," You didn't wait to hear what he had to say, pushing yourself to move, to half run out the door and close it behind you. The hallway felt cooler than Changbin's room had, but it wasn't enough. You weren't sure where you were going all over again, trying to keep your breathing from turning into full blown hyperventilation as you followed the corridor down to the stairs, taking them as fast as you could without falling, and continuing towards what you hoped was the main hall that would at least take you outside. Outside, that was enough to give you a goal to focus on.

"Hey," A voice called out to you, and you felt yourself go dizzy. Were you breathing? You stopped in your tracks, looking over to where Felix was standing. Where did he come from? What had he been doing that had him out so late? Was he looking for you? You inhaled sharply, a gasp for air. Felix was at your side before you could even squeeze words out.

You tried to scramble away from him, to sidestep him so you could keep walking. You didn't know how to talk to him right now. You were unsuccessful as Felix stepped with you, still blocking your path forward. You glared at him, but he didn't budge. Damn him and his unstoppable heart. The heart that had fooled yours into falling.

"What's the matter?" He insisted.

"Get out of my way, Felix."

"Not until you tell me why you looked so upset. If we're getting married, I want to know that you can talk to me. Please,"

You ignored him, moving to shoulder past him, but his hands caught your arms, dragging you back to stand in front of him with a strength that honestly surprised you. You groaned in frustration, shaking his hands off of you. You were crying, which you had been trying not to do. You lifted your hands up, swiping the tears away furiously. Your breath was shaking, and it was starting to hurt your lungs.

"What are you running from? Did someone hurt you?" He asked, reaching up to turn your face back and forth, checking you over for any visible injuries. You sniffled and laughed bitterly. For something that was considered love, it hurt a lot worse than you were expecting.

"Nobody hurt me. I'm just...dealing with some stuff. I'm fine, just leave me alone." You insisted. He shook his head.

"What are you dealing with?" It was hard to look at him what with the way he was looking at you. His brows were pulled together in concern, eyes scanning your face back and forth as he searched for any sign, any hint of what was going on in your mind. And you were absolutely livid that he cared so much, you were fuming, and it wasn't fair because he was just so damn good to you all of the fucking time. Shit.

"You. I'm dealing with you, and this wedding, and my emotions, and I'm sick of it. I’m fucking tired, Felix, and it makes me want to scream." You snapped. He pulled away from you, and your arms felt cold where his hands had been sitting. You wanted them back. "I'm dealing with a million and one things, and I can't even talk to anyone about them because they're nobody else's problems, they're just mine."

Felix looked like he could break down and cry just from seeing you break down, and you wondered if his chest hurt like yours did, like it was empty and caving in all at once. He sort of looked like it did.

"You can talk to me. Even if I can't help, I can be a shoulder to lean on. I know that you and I aren't that close, and I wouldn't ever expect you to do the same thing for me. I know you don't care, and that you think I don't care, but I do. I want to be able to take care of you, I want to be a good husband no matter what." He told you. You sighed, wrapping your arms around yourself like that would be enough to hold all of your emotions inside, like you could squeeze yourself tight enough to keep from exploding. It did not, in fact, help the situation.

"That's the problem, Felix! You want to be good to me so badly and it's making me fall in love with you. And you don't love me back, so you just keep giving me this disgusting sense of false hope, and it's killing me." The confession tore itself from you with a force that made your lungs ache, the sound of your voice bouncing off of the walls and no doubt disturbing at least someone in the palace. The weight was lifted off of your chest, but instead of relief it just made you woozy and light headed. "I can't do this, I can't be close to you any more than I have to because I'm tired of hurting and wanting and waiting for something that just won't happen. I can’t keep being an idiot for you."

You turned, as unfair as you were being, you went to walk away. And he was grabbing your hand, pulling you back into his arms and hugging you to his chest. You melted into his warmth, into that familiar scent of citrus and soil and a warmth like the sun in summer. You clung to his shirt, fingers digging into the fabric to keep him from leaving. You cried, hard and breathless into his shoulder, and he didn't let go.

"You're so stupid, do you realize that? I've loved you for so long. And I've been doing everything I could to make sure you felt it." He laughed, and you could feel the warmth of it seep through the cold, numb feeling that had begun to overtake your body. You looked up at him, at the way his lips curled and his eyes sparked when he looked at you. "I've loved you since the first day I met you. Why else would I track you down after all this time and fight so hard to make you mine?"

"I can't stand you, Lee Felix." You half-sobbed. But it was a laugh, and you were smiling, and even with tears tracking down your cheeks, Felix was so taken with you that he was laughing along with you. "I knew that marrying you was going to be the right decision."

"Don't jinx it, we haven't even gotten married yet."

The music swelled around you, filling the room until it felt like the entire air was beating in time with your heart to the melody. The ceremony had finished a matter of minutes prior, and you were finally married. The ring glinted on your finger in the candle light of the hall. You were overjoyed, your hand intertwined with Felix's as you talked to your guests.

Your friends were there, Changbin and Jisung grinning at you like proud parents. And Felix's, standing beside them now that they were bonding over the love shared by their best friends. You were glad to see them all getting along so well. The room, despite the differences of those within it, was filled with genuine love and adoration for you and your husband. He tugged your arm towards him, knocking you off balance and making you fall into his side. He gave you a smug grin, and you shook your head with one to match. You were still getting used to the feeling of being in love with him.

"What's on your mind?" He asked. You smiled, looking towards the center of the cleared room, how the chairs had been dutifully cleared as per your request.

"We're properly married now," You said, a playful smile growing on your lips. He looked concerned at the way your eyes glinted with a mischief he'd never seen aimed towards him before. "That means you have to listen to me and do as I say. Obedient husbands make for happy lives, you know."

"And what is it you want from me, my prince?" He asked, following you as you strode with confidence towards your friends.

"I want you to dance with me." You released his hand, taking the last few steps towards the other boys. You whispered something to Chan, and he smiled, disappearing to do your bidding as you eagerly tugged at Changbin and Jisung. "It's traditional to dance all night long at our weddings back home. And we agreed to share our traditions, didn't we?"

You grinned as the music changed, shifting into something much more like what Felix remembered from the festival his last visit to your home. It was fast and light, and honestly it was hard not to dance to it. The dance began when Changbin took your hand, and the two of you gave way to the weight of the music, circling one another and spinning until slowly but surely more people joined. Most of them were other fae folk, familiar with the music. Jisung pulled a few people with him, Felix's friends among them, into the intricate twist and turn and twirl of bodies. And you looked at Felix, half obscured by the people dancing with you as you reached your hand out for him, begging him to join.

You looked like nothing he'd ever seen before, with flowers in your hair and light dancing across your face, your smile turned on him. He didn't resist your siren call this time, falling with you into the crowd. He held you close, and the two of you danced surrounded by people dancing around you and nothing else in the world mattered in that moment as the two of you circled one another, his hand on your waist and yours pressed into his chest. The world was just you and him, breathing in time, riding the breeze and basking in your affection for one another. Convenience be damned.

You were the most beautiful like this, in your element, in his arms, and all-consumingly in love.

But you are beautiful

And thrilling, and true

And you would never ask that of me

I would give away the brightest parts of myself

To make you shine like silver,

All of the things I could give to you,

But you say they're worth nothing,

Don't I know that they pale in comparison

To the joy I give you when I fly.

You call it this the beauty mark of love

copyright © 2022 hobi-is-golden, all rights reserved

[blurrymango]

I AM CONSIDERING IT THANK YOU.

And yeah. Murdoc. </3 :( He looks ok sometimes in recent phases. But. Especially the most recent phase which is not 2D animated, everyone looks UGLY.

But alas. We aren't here to discuss the degradation in quality of the characters, we're here because I still have cute images of 2D to show you.

Here is a PNG of Murdoc in the midst of throwing up like a loser. Because he drank poison.

Here's 2D about to go out in a boat. For the Desole music video.

He looks so stupid and happy. Cutie.

Him in the boat.

He is so cute.\\\\ I hate it.

I love. when he does. the lip bitey thing.

He looks.

So ffucking pretty. One thing I will give recent phases is DAMN DOES EYELASHES DO HIM WELL.

Little teeths.

Sweetie boy.

Here's him beat up. :D

Which, by god is that delicious. He should be beaten more often. Nothing I love more than a twink in pain.

Here's an image for the Pac-Man video. Murdoc... Is. Well. Anyway. Noodle is very hot. I like how detailed Russel's shoes are. And I love how cute 2D's outfit is. Heheh.

Sidenote.

I DESPISE. PINK NIPPLE GREEN SKIN. AWFUL COMBO. HORRID. TERRIBLE.

Back into his cave he goes. Horrid.

Shot of Noodle's body that I like. For reasons.

Sad baby. :( He needs to be bent up against his arcade machine and ffucked what who said that.

I want her to look at me like that.

PLEASE look at his little dancy dance. Look at it. SO. SO CUTE.

Moving on again.

Here is a comic detailing a little post-phase3 experience.

Which, ignoring how sad it makes me that he spent so much time isolated and going a bit insane. He did not need to hallucinate Murdoc so. Without clothes. Weird little bugger.

Sidenote. Elton John.

Elton John.

Cropped the rest of a poster to just 2D.

WHY MUST HE LOOK SO PRETTY. EYELASHES EYELASHES. HE LOOKS LIKE A GIRL.

Murdoc.

If you zoom in you can see. The outline of his balls. I wish I didn't zoom in. But that's neither here nor there.

Another pretty 2D from a different music video. All I have to say about this is.

In early phases he had two front teeth missing. And his nose was a different shape. And obviously his eyes weren't white, but there's plot reasons for the white eyes which while I don't like them I at least know why they're white. But what I don't understand. Is why his nose and teeth are different. How did he get a tooth back? The world may never know.

Group shot here. Murdoc looks cute which is not a good thing. I like his outfit though. I like 2D he is very cute and his pink shoes are VERY cute. I also LOVE Noodle's outfit. And Russel. IDK why but with everything he has going on in this image, his outfit, his pose. I. This might be one of my favorite Russel images.

Close-up on 2D.

What a nice arse he has.

Another music video, one in which they return to Plastic Beach. The Boogieman?

Murdoc is the Boogieman! Lol.

Which. The song, The Lost Chord, is one of my favorites. Despite not being on the album Plastic Beach, it still evokes the feeling of Plastic Beach, even if you don't watch the video and just listen to the song, it is still VERY Plastic Beach while also being very NOT Plastic Beach, as, in the video, Plastic Beach gets DESTROYED.

I could go into symbolism and whatnot around Plastic Beach era lore. But we're not here for that, and I do not have my ADHD medication so I am absolutely not equipped for it.

No. What we're here for is pretty 2D images.

Like this for example.

It's. It's almost erotic.

Sidenote. CYBORG NOODLE AAAAAAAA.

Featuring Noodle and Murdoc's reactions to seeing her again. Which. It speaks for itself.

CYYYYYYYYYYYYY.

WAHHHHHHH.

ANYWAY.

WAIT. FFUCK. OH WELL.

IMAGE LIMIT. :(

Normal things "friends" do like. Getting nipple piercings. Together.

Lol.

[rons-wheezely]

224 || G.W.

George Weasley x Reader, Soulmate AU

Genre: Fluff, humor

Summary: Each soulmate pair receives a special number to them, and them only, on the day they’re born into this world. The placement on the body can vary, so people usually keep to themselves unless they fancy someone or it’s displayed somewhere public. How do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

A/N: i have been so inactive, I’m so sorry rip I am going to try to post a fic here and there, but I’m still a student doing student things... This blog recently turned 2 years old, and has reached about 300 followers, so thank you so much for those of you who have found me in the piles of other wonderful works :) I love you all from the bottom of my heart.

--x--

“Oh, do forgive me, Georgie,” you playfully shove him out of the way. He stumbles away from the shelf containing the last package of Fizzing Whizbees in time for you to snatch it into your hands. You hear him chuckle as he regains his balance behind you. It’s suffocatingly crowded with fellow students in Honeydukes, so he leans in close so you can hear him. 

His warm breath comes close to your ear, saying with a soft laugh,” At least share, alright?”

You tapped your chin thoughtfully as the smile plastered on your face turned into a smirk. You make your way to the cashier with George close behind. The candy in the box shake in your hands, and the decorative ring you’re wearing on your middle finger glimmers in the shop’s light. You call over your shoulder,” If you win the next match against Slytherin, I might.” 

This statement alone had George fist pump the air in satisfaction. Even if he lost, you would most likely share it anyways –– to cheer him up, of course. You two have been best friends since your first year when you cleverly evaded one of the twins’ pranks. It was a lucky guess, but the outcome left Fred and George tangled in a mess of burping up slugs for three hours. It was an easy friendship after that, other than the secret feelings you harbored for George, that is. 

Soon enough, the match came and the sight was an absolutely thrilling one. You watch as each player flies by, and each time the wind sweeps your hair in every direction. Fred and George are on a spectacular streak, and they never once miss the bludger. Thankfully you had a pair of binoculars and Lee Jordan’s commentary; the team was so small in the air that it was hard to tell what was happening.

Harry Potter was no doubt going to catch the snitch, and here he comes now swooping in underneath his teammates. He’s almost flat against his broomstick, urging it to go faster before Malfoy could get to the fluttering golden speck. All eyes are on Potter, and the boy is mere inches away. Just as his nimble fingers wrap around the snitch, another Gryffindor teammate drops from the air.

You can hear the subtle gasps from a few in the crowd who noticed. The Gryffindor team were too enraptured with Harry’s catch to notice that one of them was dropping ten, twenty, thirty meters to the ground. “George!” You cried.

As if sending a telepathic message to the other twin, though it is most likely he heard you yell as clear as day, Fred swoops down to save his brother from impact. You notice now that you're standing on your feet and leaning on the railing that separates you from your best friends on the field. You watch on in horror as Fred barely makes it in time. The breath you didn’t know you were holding finally escapes you, and your surroundings come back all at once. 

You hear the deafening silence and the sound of the wind blowing by. No one moves as they watch Fred land on the ground with George. It was Lee who ended the tension,” And with that, Gryffindor earns 130 points and has won the match…” 

All at once, everyone in the stands scrambles to get out. Elated with Harry’s catch and the twins’ safety, the student body goes their separate ways. You follow them as well and weave your way through the crowd to get to Fred and George. Panic fills your lungs, and every fiber in your body screams to make sure they’re okay.

“Fred!” You call out,” Are you two alright?”

“Yeah, no harm done to me,” he sighs,” –– Other than this git. A bludger whacked him straight on the side and he passed out on his ride down.” 

“It looks like it hurts… but it’s nothing Madame Pomfrey can’t handle, right?” You wince. You try to convince yourself that George is just sleeping a very deep, restful sleep.

“I reckon he’ll be fine, y/n.” Fred winks your way with a sly grin. “Visit him lots, yeah?”

Madame Pomfrey refused to let anyone in until she was done running some tests. When she finally let you visit, you rushed to sit next to George’s bedside. He stirred at your frantic movements and opened an eye to see you. “It’s not that bad is it?” He chuckles.

“She said that you’ve broken a few ribs, but you’ll be alright.” You smile. 

George sits up slowly, pretending to be in agonizing pain. You worry for a bit and reach out to him on instinct, but he laughs and tells you he’s okay. His torso is wrapped entirely with gauze over his clothes, and there are a few bandages wrapped around his forearms as well. Pomfrey had drawn a blanket over George earlier, so the white sheet still covered the lower half of his body. A moment goes by, and you hear a soft wheeze leaving George’s lips. “You don’t suppose my soulmate is into beaten up ginger-heads, do you?”

“Well,” you mull over your words. Pretending to take his question seriously, you answer,” they would have if you were Fred..” You laugh a little as you catch the glint in his eyes –– the mischievous one you had grown to love. 

“Oh, if only I looked exactly like that bloke.” He jokes. His head falls a little forward as he laughs. His gaze is drawn to his lap, and if you didn’t know any better, you’d say that he looked like those shy love interests in romantic muggle films. 

You notice that his fiery hair is covering his eyes, and your body compels you to get another glimpse of that wonderful boy’s face. Ever so gently, you reach your hand out and tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear. When your fingers curve around the back of his ear, you notice a few dark marks of what looks like a tattoo. Your eyebrows furrow together in confusion. You go to move more of his hair out of the way, but he turns his eyes to you. 

“Are you getting handsy with me y/n? Tryin’ to make a move, are you?” He smiles, but there is a small panic in his eyes as they frantically search yours. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know.”

“Is that your soulmate mark?” You ask.

“Maybe.”

“Well,” you huff playfully,” I might be able to tell you who your soulmate is. I might cry if your soulmate is Madame Pomfrey, though.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He asks, a playful tone in his voice.

"Georgie, please don’t tell me you have a thing for milfs.”

It takes everything in him to hold back his laughter. George pulls his hair back to reveal the numbers 224 etched behind his left ear. Your breath catches in your throat, but you try to hide your very obvious shock. 224 was a number you knew too well, and seeing that number reflected on your best friend’s skin meant that your deepest feelings were true. It’s okay to be in love with George because now... now there is chance he feels the same way.

Your mark is tattooed on the band of your middle finger, which is usually covered up by jewelry. You fidget with your rings nervously, trying to ground yourself all the while. George doesn’t pay too much attention to it when he says,“Fred has his numbers on his right ear. I might be the right-hand man, but he’s lucky enough to be the right-ear man.”

You laugh at his really bad pun,” Really? Out of all of the ear jokes, you chose that one?” 

“It made you laugh, didn’t it?” He nudges you with his shoulder, and you can’t help but giggle some more.

“Would you like to hear a fun fact?” You ask. You gulp down all of the fear that has started to swallow you whole. You are George’s soulmate. The idea buzzes in your head along with a million other thoughts. George nods for you to continue, and you fight the panicked urge to scream. “...In the muggle world, they have such advanced technology.”

“Yeah, dad would know––” George interjects for a second.

“The numbers 224 actually hold a meaning to them. It’s something like a code–– it’s related to their fancy devices I think? Anyways,” you take a deep breath. You remember vividly the details your friend went to great lengths explaining to you. 

“Your number is all kinds of special, y/n!” Mae beams at you. Her eyes twinkle in an amusing manner as she tries to prove herself. A soft thud could be heard when her hands meet with the common room table, and she quickly jumps to her feet. “Imagine, having such a fantastic number as that!” She exclaims with awe.

“I don’t understand?” You bemusedly remark. Why would numbers hold more meanings beyond your standard soulmate reason?

“My brother loves binary code, a certain muggle science,” she explains,” and he told me a few meanings. One of them being yours! Now, if only fate would tell us who your soulmate was...”

If Mae were in this room, she would be bursting at the seams from pure glee. You look into George’s eyes and say,” ...the numbers actually mean something along the lines of ‘Today, Tomorrow, Forever.’ It has to do with the bond you and your soulmate have together.“

He blinks once or twice before breaking out into a grin,” Okay, can you say it again but,” he emphasizes,” simpler, maybe?

“––it means that your soulmate will love an accident-prone idiot like you forever and always,” You joke halfheartedly.

The familiar gleaming smile he wore after a successful prank creeps up onto his face: one of self satisfaction and deserving of many awards based on looks alone. His smile is much gentler and you almost miss it, but a blush tints the very tips of his cheeks. “Oh? wait ‘till dad finds out that numbers have meanings to muggles. How’d you know all of this anyway?”

“Oh, it’s just something my friend talked to me about.” You dismiss his questioning gaze and clear your throat. Every second that passes makes you more and more anxious being around George, simply just by knowing you two are soulmates. It’s a dream come true, sure. But how do you go around explaining to your best friend that he’s the one?

“Are you alright, y/n?” George asks. “You seem real fidgety. Do you need to go somewhere?”

“Oh–– no, it just that,” you gulp. “Well.. I think left the Fizzing Whizbees back in my dorm room.” You lie. You know it’s in your bag with your other belongings, safely tucked away for later consumption. “Post-game snacks are essential, and I did make a promise.”

“Are you sure you left it there? I thought I saw it in your bag...” He leans over to find your bag, and sure enough, he pulls out the box of candy.

“Oh.” You look at him. There’s an awkward pause before he clears his throat.

“You’ve really got to get yourself together mate–– looks like Nearly Headless Nick showed you his neck hole again or something.” George jokes to lighten the mood, but he’s right. The longer you sit there and stare at him, the more you either want to slam your lips against his or vomit profusely. You feel pale and sickly; just enough to feel the twists and turns of your stomach. Is this what having butterflies feel like? He opens the bag of candy and offers you some.

You share the box of whizbees with him, taking one out and popping them into your mouth. It fizzes and jolts a little as the sweet taste melts on your tongue. “I think maybe Fred slipped something to me earlier,” you avert your gaze,” I’m not sure.”

“Yeah, sounds like Fred.” George grabs your hand and looks you in the eyes. He’s rubbing soothing circles on your hands, and it does seem to relax some of your nerves. He looks at you softly and gently, and all at once, your anxiety starts to melt away in his presence. You almost forget why you’re so worried in the first place. “You know I’m not going anywhere. If you have to take a massive shit, I’ll wait for you.” He says as he pats your hand reassuringly.

You erupt into laughter and shove him away. “And here I thought we were having a moment.”

“Nothing says true love like bowl movements, darling.”

As the laughter dies down, the somber feeling in your gut returns. It’s now or never, right? “George, I think I need to tell you something. I—“

Fred bursts into the door with Lee following shortly behind. “There’s my favorite twin!” He beams. He gets a disapproving look from Madame Pomfrey peering around the corner from her office. Fred doesn’t pay much attention, choosing to walk past her with barely a glance over his shoulder. George rolls his eyes as Fred happily trots over, spilling some liquid from two mugs in his hands. “—had to have Lee help sneak these in for the party, which you lot are missing out on.” He hands you a mug of butter beer and George, the other.

You decide to drop the subject even after George was free from the hospital bed. It’s a few weeks since then, and school has made you push those thoughts of pesky soulmates and true love aside. Of course, George kept looking at you funny, waiting for you to bring it up again. To his dismay, you didn’t.

“Alright everyone, class is dismissed.” Professor Sprout announces as she busies herself in setting up plants for the next day. It’s the last class of the day, and you couldn’t be happier. Repotting plants was hard work, and you were sweaty enough as it is. Beads of sweat dripped down the side of your face, and as much as you hated it, it did make for good eye candy across the room — namely George, although there’s a lot of dirt smudged onto his face too.

He’s cleaning up rather quickly so you call out to him,” Can you grab my rings, Georgie? They’re over there by my bag.” You had to remove jewelry in order to “safely handle” the creatures and wear proper gloves. Those of which you hastily pull off to wash your hands. The suds come and go as you lather and rinse away in the sink.

“Today, tomorrow, forever eh?” George’s deep voice rumbles in your ear. You jump a little at the sudden scare. “I think I like the sound of that, don’t you?”

You turn your head a little to the side and come very close to George’s face. You can feel his breath fanning on your skin, and his nose is just barely touching yours. You fear that if you blink, the sight in front of you will vanish. Every freckle that glitters his skin is so close you could count them like the stars and draw constellations between them if you wanted to. It’s absolutely breathtaking. Your body feels like it’s on a cloud— so feather light and airy— as he smiles at you. Your throat is dry; your tongue struggles to keep up with your thoughts. “...what?” You choke out. You cover your hands on impulse, but you know it’s too late.

“It means you’re stuck with me forever, y/n.” He grins. “Soulmate magic is no joke, you know.” He hands you your rings and walks beside you out of the greenhouse. You slip the rings on to your middle finger where it’s always resided, deciding to fidget with it a little.

Nothing should be different. You’re walking with George in the hallways like you always do, your hair is no different than yesterday, and class was the same as an other day. And yet your heart is beating faster and the sun seems to shine brighter. The grass is greener and the lake bluer than it was this morning. Words remain unspoken, but the truth is there. His fingers are interlocked with yours. 224.

[duskholland]

Crash Into You || Tom Holland Smut

ice hockey!tom x figure skater!reader — smut.

summary ↠ you can’t stand the ice hockey team. they’re loud, brutish, and incredibly annoying. it’s just inconvenient that you can’t seem to stop running into their star player, an irritatingly suave man called tom, nor deny the way your pulse quickens every time he’s around...   word count ↠ 20.2k. warnings ↠ mild depictions of sport-related injury including blood and nose breakage, a lot of bad language, some jealousy, and nsfw smut material! extended smut warnings are beneath the cut, but this is 18+ !!! minors dni.   a/n ↠ it’s funny because I tell myself I don’t like sport aus, yet this is somehow one of my favourite things that I’ve ever written...? the au is kinda ~obscure~ I guess, but it checked so many of my boxes whilst writing it, and I had a great time. it’s also the longest thing I’ve ever posted?! ahh !! I hope you’ll like dutchy, and give this a go even if you’re not really into hockey <3   —↠ there are so many different people that helped me out with this!!! in addition to all the wonderful anons that sent in ideas last month, I want to extend a huge thank you to @geminiparkers @tetralea @hollandharrison @honeyspidey @stixnstripesworld and @uglypastels for each helping out in some way, whether that be through brainstorming ideas, making incredible art, or teaching me about hockey and/or skating! <3<3 also—the biggest thank you ever to the lovely sammy @t-holland2080 for not disowning me after editing this for me and seeing my basic spelling errors lmfao. ily <3 hope you all enjoy !!

extra !! @uglypastels made two beautiful pieces of fanart for tom aka dutchy — you can view these here + here !!! @softholand​ also made an absolutely incredible moodboard based off the fic, and you can view that here :’) thank you to both of them for using their amazing artistic talents on this fic + making me literally like. the happiest writer on the planet :’) 

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

extended smut warnings ↠ two sections of smut. this is a certified Horny Warmy™️ (thanks chlo for that category) so it’s very gentle, very wholesome. includes oral and fingering (fem-receiving) and protected MxF sex :’)

✧ *:･ﾟCrash Into You ･ﾟ:*✧

“Why are they always so noisy? How hard can it be to hit a bit of plastic?”

You laugh quietly, glancing at your friend, Yelena. She’s staring out across the rink, hands resting on the plastic barrier that lines the perimeter with irritation in her icy blue eyes. A warming blush tickles the apples of her cheeks, and it softens the expression of frustration that she wears so well.

“Seriously,” she adds. “Listen to them… It’s so… unpleasant.”

Your teeth catch your lower lip as you bring your gaze away from Yelena and instead onto the object of her anger: the hockey team.

Your eyes zip around the rink, watching as the players run through yet another drill. The team—Kingston Kites—, 20 in full, 7 currently on the ice, crash around the arena like a cyclone of a thousand moving calamitous parts. For the last few months, the practice rink at your sports centre has been closed, which has led to the pre-existing rivalry between the hockey team and your own team of figure skaters deepening. There have been arguments between your managers and theirs about which team gets priority over the exhibition rink. What’s emerged has been a bitter taste in the air. Simply put: the figure skating team dislikes the ice hockey team, and the feeling is mutual.

“I dunno,” you mutter. “I guess it means they’re working hard.”

The noises are rather distracting. You watch as the blurry figures, shrouded in the team colours of white, green, and orange, line up and take shot after shot at the small net on the ice. After each attempted shot on goal, the players have a tendency to release loud grunts and exclamations of exertion, and they echo around the empty arena. Whilst you agree with Yelena that the noises are irritating, a small part of you also admires their commitment.

“Perhaps.” Yelena steps back from the side and starts to stretch her arms. You do the same. There’s a fifteen-minute overlap in the scheduled slots on ice when the figure skating team uses half the rink to warm up as the hockey team uses the other to cool down. After the fifteen minutes play out, the Zamboni skims out the cuts in the rink, and the hockey team finally leaves you alone. It’s not ideal to share the rink, but every second you can spend practising helps. “I can’t stand them.”

You smile softly, slowly rotating your right arm as you warm up the muscles. “I know,” you agree. “You always complain about them.”

She scowls, eyes glistening with fierce irritation. “Because they’re annoying. So dramatic and messy.”

“Mmm, well, I don’t think they’re very fond of us either,” you respond. You bend over, slowly rubbing your fingers over the bandage you have wrapped around your right ankle. “Did you hear about Jenna and Lou in the gym last week?”

“No. What happened?”

You sit down on the cool floor of the arena, thankful for the many layers you’re wearing. As you slowly start to massage your ankle, you glance up at your friend.

“They got interrupted by a couple of the guys. Uh, Osterfield and Barrett? They wanted to do a weights competition or something.”

Yelena scoffs. “Losers.”

You smirk. “They won, though. Lou and Jen. Apparently, the guys stormed out. Couldn’t take getting beaten by a couple of skaters.”

Your friend cackles then offers you a hand up. You grunt as you stand and steady yourself, glancing down at your skates and checking the laces. A loud buzzer goes off, and you hear a few yells of disgruntlement come off the ice as the players realise it’s the end of their solo practice and the start of your turn on the rink too.

“Can’t wait to get out there,” Yelena murmurs, eyes sparkling. You nod in agreement and crack your knuckles in anticipation.

Together, you walk over to the small gate in the side of the rink, joining the line with the rest of your team. Ten of you make up the competitive figure skating team, and all of you wear varying articles of black, thermal clothing. You’re in a pair of leggings, a long-sleeved thermal shirt, and a loose burgundy t-shirt, drifting over the top. The cold doesn’t bother you as much as it used to, but that’s only through the years you’ve spent gliding around at sub-zero temperatures.

You sigh happily as you inhale a breath of the frozen air that hangs crispy above the rink. You step onto the ice, closing your eyes as you skate forwards, your body supported effortlessly by the skates you wear so well.

There’s a line of bright red cones set out across the middle of the ice, sectioning off the hockey players from the rest of you. You smile to yourself as you risk a glance across the rink and take stock of a few of the players, huddled together, grunting and exchanging low words of irritation. They look very funny, wearing various layers of thick padding and helmets—less formal than they’d be at a match, but still dressed up enough to mean business. You feel them staring at you, glaring and bemoaning the fact they have to share the rink, but you let it brush off you like water.

“Y/N! Show me your cannonball. Weren’t you working on it?” Yelena’s back, skimming to rest beside you, plaited blonde hair hanging in two bunches either side of her face. You nod, pushing off and checking the ice is clear ahead of you before skating into a space.

Nothing beats the rush of adrenaline that comes with skating. You think that you’re addicted to it now. The charge of the nervous build-up, followed by the relief of the payoff never gets old. Your fears of failure get swept away the moment you sink into the ultra-focused headspace of an athlete, and the buzz of reward you get every time you land a move perfectly trumps the blood, sweat and tears that such an unforgiving sport has taken from you. You wouldn’t be able to quit skating, even if you wanted to.

A cannonball sit spin is one of the hardest spins in your repertoire, and the element that has been giving you the most grief in your show routine. This season, you’re competing in the national circuit for solo ice dance. It’s not your first time taking on the competition���in fact, consistently over the last few years, you’ve been ranking higher each time you compete. Last year you finished third, and so this year, your eyes are fixed very firmly on the prize. You know securing first place in the competition will attract the Olympic scouts’ attention, and that’s your greatest dream.

Moving quickly, you skate in a brief semi-circle to build momentum before getting low, resting on one leg as you stretch the other out in front of you. Your hands curve around the ankle of your extended leg, and you use the energy to carry you into a spin, the fresh air wafting off the ice and cooling your cheeks. It carries out for a few seconds, then you have to concentrate as you exit the manoeuvre, brows creasing as you continue to turn. You end in a standing spin, arms held out as you slowly bring them back into your sides and end elegantly with a little bow.

Yelena claps, cheering from across the ice. “Fuck, Y/N, that looks perfect now,” she calls out. “Wouldn’t ever be able to tell that it was causing you trouble— oh, look out!”

Your eyes are only just beginning to widen in response to her concern when you feel a very strong figure slam into you, hurtling at top speed and taking you both down onto the ice. You don’t need to see anything beyond a flash of white, orange and green to know that it’s a fucking hockey player, and the ache of getting thrown to the hard ground is quickly overcome by the anger that replaces everything else.

“Oh, shit,” you hear a gruff voice say.

You groan as you try to sit up, opening your eyes just to see that the player is crumpled on top of you. Your chest feels heavy from where he’s laying sprawled over you, and you glance down to look at his face, a scowl holding tight over your features.

Despite the helmet and the visor sticking over the top of his face, you’re able to make out a few details of the man. He seems to be around your age, his skin pale but flushed warm from the cold and such a vigorous practice. The brown depths of his eyes swell with concern and guilt, pairing nicely with the regretful smile that pangs across his thin pink lips. You get a peek at his brown hair sticking out from beneath his helmet, and can’t quite stop your eyes from catching on the hard line of his impressive jaw.

“You idiot,” you mutter, shaking off the daze that comes with admiring such a handsome stranger. “Did you even look where you were going before deciding you were going to try and kill me?”

The man’s eyebrows shoot up, his expression of concern burning into irritation as he scowls at you.

“Fucking hell,” he replies. His accent twangs prominently, cool and unyielding. “It was an accident, darling.”

You grunt, rapidly scooting back across the ice the moment he’s clambered off you. He sits across from you, brushing at the pads on his knees as he stares at you remorsefully. You can’t tell if he’s pouting at you or the shards of ice messing up his knees.

“An accident is brushing into someone, not slamming them onto the ice,” you mutter. Bitterness sweeps into your voice. “Twat.”

“Alright, alright.” He throws his hands into the air and leans closer. “I’m sorry. Okay?”

You draw your lips into a tight-lipped frown and look away, ignoring him as you try to stand, only to end up wincing as pain shoots up your bad ankle. “Fuck,” you whisper, your irritation growing stronger as you try to rotate your foot and feel the pain thicken.

Opposite you, the man clambers to his feet, getting his bearings on his skates before begrudgingly sliding up you. Your eyes take in his figure, running the lines of his stocky form. It’s always hard to tell what the guys look like beneath the padding and the helmets, but he doesn’t look as tall as you’d expected when he was laying on top of you. He’s smaller than the rest of them, but you have a suspicion he can probably move remarkably fast. How else would he have been able to take you out so easily?

He offers you a gloved hand, staring at you through cold eyes. “C’mon,” he urges, when you do nothing but stare at his palm. “Let me help you up. It’s the least I can do.”

You eye him suspiciously, but you know you won’t be able to get up without some assistance. A brief glance at your team around you suggests they’re all watching your exchange, intrigued. So, you swallow your pride, grit your teeth, and slip your hand into his glove, digging your skates into the ice as he helps you back to your feet. A short hiss of pain falls through your lips as your ankle throbs. When your leg threatens to buckle, the man moves in closer and grabs at your waist.

“Woah!” he exclaims, holding you up. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you mutter, trying to steady yourself, “no thanks to you.”

You hear him release an exasperated sigh, and he lets you shake yourself free, but his hand drifts down to pull at your arm and hold you back when you try to skate off.

“What do you want?” you snap, tension in your voice. Beneath the visor, you can make out the guilt dusting his face, but you’re too focused on your recurring injury to pay it much mind.

“I’m sorry,” he tries. “I am.”

You pull your arm free again, and you hear a few hoots drift over from the other side of the rink. The word Dutchy rises louder, and you watch his expression twitch with irritation.

“Whatever,” you reply. You skate backwards, moving away from him, only relaxing when you feel one of your friends link her arm with yours. “Just forget about it.”

The hockey player looks as though he wants to argue with you, but when you harden your glare, he seems to let it go. He shoots you a very tight-lipped smile, mouth puffing a little with air, and then he picks up the discarded hockey stick and skates back to the other side of the rink. Your eyes briefly flutter over the bright text of Holland before he disappears, being enveloped back into the fold of raucous players as you sink into your friend’s side.

“Are you okay?” she whispers, touch far gentler than his had been.

You grimace, looking down at your ankle. “Yeah,” you reply, frowning sourly. Your eyes lift up across the rink, and you let yourself scowl. “Just pissed off.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Following the incident, and an incredibly bad skating practise, you find yourself reprimanded by your coach and put on bed rest for a few days so you can rest your ankle. It’s hard not to blame the distracted hockey player, but you know you probably had it coming. You’ve been walking the knife’s edge for several weeks with your injury, and as much as you hate to admit it, the time off is necessary.

The moment you’re allowed back on the ice, you’re there in a heartbeat. The training arena also operates as a commercial venue, and there are different slots available during the day for the general public to skate. After receiving the thumbs up from the team physiotherapist, you immediately turn up to one of the open slots available to the public, hoping to brush up on a few things before you rejoin your team in the morning.

For the first ten minutes of your practice, things go well. Your ankle is better for a few days off, and you’re able to sink back into your routine and get back to focusing on the gnarly parts that always throw you in a loop. It isn't too busy either, so there’s room to skate around and feel the air running over your face. It’s easy to get lost in it, your chest full of a lightness you’d spent the last few days bed-bound and dreaming of.

You take a break to drink some water after a while, leaning up against the barrier at the edge of the rink and bending over it to rummage through your bag. When you feel a presence behind you, you stand up, glancing back expecting to see a stranger, and feeling your eyes widen as instead, you recognise the man.

He looks very different without the shoulder pads and the rest of his ridiculous costume, but it’s him: Holland, the hockey player responsible for your skating ban. Still tall, and perched on hockey skates, but more relaxed. Like you, he’s wrapped up warmly, with a tight black thermal shirt curled around his arms, and another t-shirt resting over the top. His brown hair flies freely, bouncy and slightly curled, and his eyes are soft.

“Hi,” he says, biting at his thin lower lip. “Do you remember me?”

You frown as you skate to be in front of him, nodding slowly. “The guy that smashed me into the ice the other day?” you tease, voice cool. “Of course. How could I ever forget?”

You watch as his face darkens in shade, his eyes flickering down to your leg. “I’m, uh, Tom,” he leads with. “I saw you skating and I just wanted to see how you were doing… I haven’t seen you at practice in a few days, and I was, uh… sort of worried I’d seriously hurt you.”

Tom looks at you like he’s scared of you, and you have to bite back a smile as you wonder if you were too harsh on him the other day.

“Hmm.” You cross your arms over your chest and inspect him, gaze following how pronounced his biceps look, pushing up against his shirt. “Well, I was benched for a week.”

He curses softly, accented voice sounding out of place speaking such vulgarity.

“I’m sorry,” Tom says. He looks as though he means it, too. Shoulders sagged, eyes concerned, lower lip bitten red. “I promise, love, it wasn’t intentional. If I could go back in time and stop myself from behaving like such an inconsiderate twat, I would.”

You giggle slightly, unable to disguise the glee that comes with hearing him call himself a twat. You watch as his eyebrows arch up, confusion replacing his sincerity as he slowly crosses his arms over his chest. You’re still irritated by the situation, but you’re no longer incensed. It’s hard to harbour a grudge whilst he’s pouting so acutely.

“Well, Tom, I forgive you,” you say, voice lighter. He releases a deep breath, and you nod to affirm your point. “I’m Y/N, by the way.” Instinctively, you offer him a hand and find a shiver rolling down your back as his warm palm presses up against yours. Tom’s grip is firm and grounding, and his skin is a lot softer than you’d expected.

“Y/N is a nice name,” he says, voice perkier. His eyes seem more alive, and you don’t miss the way he takes in your form with an inquisitive gaze.

Your lips twist into a smirk. “I’ve already forgiven you, you can turn off the charm now.”

Tom shrugs, eyes glinting cheekily. “It’s not charm, darling,” he returns. “This is just who I am.” It seems to be true, too. He’s a lot bolder now the air between you has cleared, no longer looking like he wants to melt through the ice.

You snort loudly and feel your heart quicken when he smiles. “Well, Tom, what are you doing here?” You quirk an eyebrow. “Don’t you guys practice in the mornings?”

“Yeah,” Tom agrees. He breaks off as he looks over his shoulder and waves a hand at the near-deserted ice. “Coach said I need to work on my sprints, though, and it’s a lot easier to do that without the rest of the team hanging around.”

“Makes sense,” you say, deviously deciding you want to see how far you can push him. “You hockey guys are always so slow on the ice.”

Tom’s jaw drops, and you watch as he straightens up and stands a little taller. He meets the challenge directly, and you can’t deny it—it’s attractive. The way he squares his jaw, flares his nostrils and hardens his gaze is hot.

“Fuck you,” he says, voice light, “I’m definitely faster than you.”

You smirk. “As if,” you quip. You raise a hand, twirling a finger around in the lazy direction of the centre of the rink. “Show me what you’ve got. I might give you some pointers if I’m feeling nice.”

Tom releases a very loud laugh, the skin by his eyes crinkling into fine lines. “You’re hilarious, love,” he responds. “Like a figure skater is going to be able to teach me anything of importance.”

It’s your turn to laugh, and you cross your arms as you stand a little straighter. “That’s bold talk from someone who doesn’t look where he’s going,” you tease. You run a hand through your hair, eyeing him closely. “I could easily beat you in any skating-related activity, and I wouldn’t even break a sweat.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, seeming to feed into the idea of a challenge just as much as you. There’s something about him that fires you up the right way—a shared competitiveness that burns as brightly in you as it clearly does in him. It overpowers everything else, taking over, enticing you into letting go of any residual resentment and embracing the chance to beat him.

“How about we put your bragging to the test, darling?” he suggests, tongue tracing his lower lip. His eyes flutter around the curves of your mouth. “A few races, just to see who’s really better.”

You don’t hesitate to nod. “Sure, Tom,” you agree. “But don’t be too pissy when I beat you.”

There’s something endearingly irritating about how confident he is as he smirks at you and leans forward to briefly rest a hand on your shoulder. “Same to you, Y/N,” he responds. “I know it’s annoying to lose.”

You just shake your head, scoffing as you push away from him and move down to the end of the rink. He follows you, coming to a stop on his chunky skates beside you.

“First one to the other side wins,” you announce, reaching back to rest a hand on the barrier. You tilt your head and stare at him until he does the same. “Ready?”

“Mhmm.”

“3, 2, 1, go!”

It’s slightly ridiculous how badly you want to beat him, but there’s just something so infuriating about Tom. Your competitiveness burns in your chest, makes your blood boil and your hands clench into fists, and you find your eyes zeroing in on the opposite side of the rink as tunnel-vision encroaches. You block him and everything else out, your desire to win taking over as you swiftly launch across the ice, skates clipping the surface with metallic sounds as you sprint it. You don’t break—you don’t give up, slow down, or even turn back until you’re slamming into the barrier at the other side, turning around just in time to see Tom come in behind you, lagging about a second behind.

“Shit,” Tom mutters, grimacing.

You smirk. “Told you I’d beat you.”

Tom pulls a sour face, and it makes you giggle. “Best of three?” he offers. “C’mon, Y/N.” His elbow nudges against your side. “I’m still warming up.”

“Alright,” you agree. “But for the record, I still won.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Tom mutters, shooting you a sly smile. “Just you wait.”

You win best of three skating forwards, but Tom manages to snag a victory when it comes to speed skating backwards. You can’t take the smirk of triumph on his face, so you offer up a third competition, yearning to prove yourself.

“Can you do an axel?” you ask. Your eyes drift down to his heavy hockey skates. “Or are your boots too chunky and annoying?”

Tom’s face twitches with doubt, but he’s quick to smooth it away. “Fuck yeah,” he states boldly. “I can do anything you can do.” If he doubts the truth of his words, he doesn’t let it show. “Just, uh… Show me how you do it first.”

You have the suspicion he can’t remember what an axel is, so you decide to oblige him.

“Alright,” you agree, boosting away from him. His eyes follow you, and their presence on your figure brings a hidden smile to your face. “Watch this.”

You perform the trick easily. An axel is the simplest of all the jumps, and it gives you no bother to glide forwards, leap into the air, do a swift, neat turn, then land on your back foot gracefully. You could probably do it with your eyes closed.

“There!” you announce, smile on your face.

Tom gulps nervously.

“Easy,” he says, voice slightly quieter. You cross your arms and watch, incredibly amused, to see how far he’ll take his act before giving up. Tom skates forward, confident in his movements, eyes focused, eyebrows furrowed. He takes his time, failing to do anything beyond skating in a straight line before he suddenly, jerkily, attempts the trick.

Time moves in slow motion. It’s with a combination of glee and horror that you watch him fail spectacularly, doing a rotation of approximately 180 degrees before slipping on the return to the rink and landing flat on the ice, groaning loudly. The few of the people sharing the rink with you look around, concerned, and you’re quick to skate over to him, biting your lip guiltily.

“Well,” you say, stopping in front of him. Tom’s still on the ice, arms crossed, glaring angrily at his skates. “I admire you for trying.”

His attention shifts up to you, and his scowl intensifies. “Whatever,” he mumbles. There’s an element of amusement in his eyes, and he takes your hand when you extend it out towards him. Tom’s heavy, but he springs up easily, his fingers tangled in yours and jerking you a little closer. “That was way harder than it looked.”

You hum, and then gulp as he drops your hand. He’s near to you, breath crystallising into a cloud of icy fog in front of you. Your eyes glide over the spray of brown freckles on his face before skimming down the curved line of his nose until you can admire his mouth.

“Well, it is a sport,” you say, voice a little tight. You clear your throat, shaking yourself from your funk as you realise you’re just staring at his lips. “Just like… Like hockey is a sport. I know we make fun of it, but I doubt me or anyone else on the team could play like you guys do.”

Tom seems to enjoy the praise, standing with a little more confidence as you finish speaking. He nods, then brings two slender fingers up to nimbly scratch at his chin.

“Have you ever tried it?” he asks.

“Not properly.”

Tom smirks. “Well, we need to change that. Go down the end, I’ll grab a net.”

You don’t know how he manages to convince the supervisors of the free skate to let the two of you set up an attack zone in the end segment of the rink, but you don’t question it. The sight of Tom reappearing, haphazardly balancing a net, a hockey stick, and a puck in his arms makes you smile, and you briefly think about how easy it's been for your resentment to melt away. There’s something about him that’s incredibly warm, and you don’t dispute the realisation that he’d probably make a good friend.

“Right,” Tom announces. He’s set up the net and shown you how to hold the plastic stick. Now, both of you are staring at the puck, black and stark against the scratched white ice. “Just hit it.”

You glance up at him, sceptical. “Surely there’s more to it than that.”

He shakes his head. “Don’t know what I’m working with until I see you take a hit at it, darling.”

You nod. The stick feels unfamiliar between your hands, but you’re determined to make a better show of it than Tom when he tried to do the axel. After staring at the small open area of the net, you grit your teeth and hit it, watching with widening eyes as the puck soars wide out to the left.

Tom cackles.

“Well… That was an attempt,” he says. His grin doesn’t falter at all, even when you turn around to glare at him.

“Teach me, then,” you quip, scrunching up your nose playfully.

Tom hums, and you watch as he briefly skates away after the puck. You can’t stop yourself from staring at him as he bends over, the bottom of his shirt briefly riding up and exposing the printed band of his boxers. The words Calvin Klein burn into the back of your eyes, still lingering there as he turns and skates back to you. You blink rapidly, shame burning at your face as you try to look more like you’re focused, and less like you can’t stop your eyes from gravitating towards his figure.

He drops the puck back on the ice, just in front of your stick. “Your angle was wrong,” Tom says. “Show me your hands again.” When you do as instructed, he frowns and shakes his head. “No, it’s… It’s more like, your top hand higher, and the lower more angled… Uh… No, no, no. Can I just touch you?”

“Okay,” you squeak, standing a little straighter.

Tom skates forward, resting behind you. He doesn’t hesitate to carefully wrap his arms around you from behind, slender fingers curling over your hands and repositioning them on the stick. You feel like you’ve been electrified—eyes wide, skin responding to his touch. His breath, warm and minty, wafts across the side of your face, and you realise you’re holding your breath.

“Yeah...just like that,” he coos, voice a little softer. He squeezes your hands before letting them go. “Give it another go.”

You swallow back your nerves as you nod, waiting until Tom’s drifted back to hit the puck. You can’t stop yourself from smiling when it goes sailing into the back of the net, and Tom lets out a loud hoot.

“Fuck yeah!” he exclaims, laughing gleefully. “Look at that!”

You glance back at him, enjoying the expression of pride that finds his features. “Pretty good, right?” you say, playing it cool.

“Spectacular, darling.” Tom’s nodding, face alight. “Let’s step it up a notch.”

He brings you through a few drills, and you find yourself enjoying the game despite your early blunder. Before you know it, there’s the sound of a buzzer ringing, signalling that there are five minutes left of your session together. Tom rises to the challenge, announcing that he wants to end by watching you skate at the goal and shoot a point whilst moving. You fail at your first three attempts, unable to coordinate moving the stick, the puck and yourself without something going askew.

“Show me again,” you whine, growing conscious of the timer ticking down.

Tom skates closer, gliding easily with his hands behind his back. His thin lips wear his smirk well.

“Just visualise it, darling,” he says. “Believe in yourself, and you’ll do it.” He pauses, eyes skimming over you. “I believe in you.”

You nod. “Okay.”

“Follow my line in.”

Tom skates backwards, beckoning you forwards with outstretched hands and a smile like you’re a toddler he’s teaching to walk. He leads your attack, mapping out your path before shifting out of the way just in time for you to successfully skate and hit the puck into the back of the net. His expression clears into relief, but as you start to celebrate, it’s quick to fall flat. You watch, eyes widening, as Tom gets distracted by you and drifts backwards into the goal, skates getting tangled in the netting. You lunge forward to try and catch him, only to make the situation a thousand times worse as you crash into him, grabbing at his shirt just as he manages to steady himself.

It feels like a cruel trick of fate. A repetition of the past, just, instead of Tom tackling you to the ground, it’s you that manages to slam him back onto the ice. It’s more comfortable this time around, though. For you. Tom’s chest is a lot warmer and softer than the ice.

“Fuck,” Tom groans. His face twists into an aching expression, then his eyes slowly blink open. As you make contact with his brown orbs, you’re surprised to see amusement shift across them. “Oh, how the tables have turned.”

You snort, taking stock of how muscly his front feels. You’re sprawled out completely over him, face suspended above his, Tom’s palms holding your waist. It’s intimate, especially when he reaches up with one hand and pushes your hair from your face so he can peer at you better. You can’t stop your eyes from going straight to his lips.

“S-sorry,” you stammer, voice breathless. You admire the way his hair is spread out around his head, bold against the ice like a halo. “I don’t know what happened.”

“‘S okay.” Tom’s quieter too. His gaze circles quickly between your eyes and your mouth. There’s something cockier about him, and you know the way you’re clinging to the front of his shirt has something to do with it. “I think you fell for me. Again.”

He’s leaning in. You start to do it, too, even go as far as to let your eyes drift close. He gets so close that you can almost feel the warm outline of his lips, brushing against yours, but then there’s the loud noise of a buzzer vibrating through the air. As the sound dies, it serves to signal the end of such a tender moment, as well as the end of the session.

You startle and push off him as you shoot him an apologetic grin.

“Sorry,” you say. You’re shaking a little, but you hope he puts it down to shock. You manage to clamber up and offer him your hands.

Tom accepts your help, and he groans as you help him up.

“It’s fine, Y/N,” he says, pausing to shake out his legs and slide forward. He swings your palms through the air, squeezing at your fingers as he very gently twirls you beneath his arm, then moves in nearer. “Accidents happen. I’m not surprised you wanted to be on top of me.”

All you can do is laugh and hope Tom can’t tell how he makes the base thrumming of your heart pick up.

“As if,” you return. You glance down at your intertwined fingers and feel your heart pang. “A hockey player? I could never.”

Tom just smiles, then squeezes your hands before letting them slip from his grasp. “Yeah, yeah,” he murmurs. He nudges your shoulder then shifts away, off in the direction of the net. “You know there’s no one that could give you as good a time as me.” He’s joking—it’s obvious in the cadence of his voice, the smile on his face. But why does it feel so layered?

“Ha ha,” you respond, skating over to him. When you notice him struggling, you dart forward and grab the net, slinging it over a shoulder. You glance back, arching an eyebrow as you decide to test the water. “I have had fun, though,” you add. “With you.”

Tom tilts his head to the side, ruffling up his hair with a hand. His smile lights up his entire face.

“Me too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Almost a week passes, and though you don’t see Tom again, he’s certainly on your mind. You find yourself thinking about him all too much, considering he’s a hockey player, and it goes against the team ethos you’ve been surrounded by.

One day, after practice, you end up sitting on a bench outside the rink, waiting on Yelena as she finishes talking with one of your coaches. Bored and curious, you pull out your phone and decide to open Instagram. All around the arena are banners advertising the hockey team’s social media, and you find yourself drawn to the official account with a few easy taps. You start to scroll through the feed, eager eyes skimming over every face until you find the one you’re looking for.

It’s Tom, from last season, clutching the victory trophy in his hands as he’s held on his team’s shoulders. His face is animated, pulled wide in a large grin as he stares at the camera, the skin by his eyes pulled into smile lines. He’s tagged in it, so, curious, you click through and look at his profile. Unsurprisingly, it’s set to public, and you’re careful as you scroll down.

His photos are exactly what you’d expect—a collection of team photos, action shots, and gym selfies. Typical hockey player, but the longer you spend staring at one of his selfies, the cuter he seems to get. Trying to shake yourself out of the daze, you scroll back up, thumb absently wandering over to his Following list. Your eyes widen as you see your profile, at the very top of the accounts.

Tom follows you…?

Brows furrowing, you flip onto your own account, double-checking this new fact by typing out his username in your followers tab. He pops up, at the top, and you sit back, blinking.

Interesting.

After taking a brief moment to compose yourself, you go back to his profile and follow him. You start to flick through his story from the day. You get about halfway through when a shadow casts over your figure. You glance up, expecting to see Yelena, only to startle when it’s Tom.

“Hi,” he offers, raising a hand in greeting. You blink a few times in quick succession, glancing between your phone which shows a mirror selfie from him shirtless in the gym to where he’s now standing in front of you, burgundy hoodie on, flask in hand. You immediately turn your phone off.

“Oh, u-uh, hi,” you say, voice suddenly thick. He tilts his head to the side, an amused smile finding his lips as he sees you flustered. “What… What are you doing here?”

“I was in the gym,” he says, telling you information you already know. “Saw you down here on my way out, thought I’d say hi.” He rocks back on his feet, looking a little nervous. “I, uh… Keep thinking about last week. On the ice.”

“Oh?” Tom nods. He hesitates, and you realise he’s just awkwardly standing in front of you. “Wait,” you say, shuffling up the bench. “Sit.”

He perches on the wooden slats beside you, offering you his flask. “It’s hot chocolate,” he says, cheeks blushing slightly.

“After the gym?” you return, arching a brow.

Tom smiles. “Fuck yeah,” he says, pressing the flask into your hand. “It’s good, trust me. And, uh, I don’t have any germs or anything. I think.”

You snort, clicking the top open as you look at him over the brim. “Well, I wouldn’t mind catching anything from you,” you say, speaking before you have time to process the words.

Tom’s eyebrows soar up his forehead, a short chuckle leaving his lips as you hide your embarrassment behind the metal flask. The burn of revealing such a humiliating thought is quickly soothed away as you taste the deliciously sweet liquid.

“Well?” Tom coaxes, stretching an arm up as he scratches the back of his neck. His hoodie smells of fresh fabric conditioner. “Good, eh?”

Begrudgingly, you nod. “Yeah,” you say, shooting him a soft smile. Trying to move on the conversation, you return to what he’d said before sitting down. “Uh, what was that you said? About last week?”

Tom nods, seeming a little less apprehensive now to speak to you after your enthusiastic praise. “I was just thinking about how fun it was to skate around with you. It sort of made me regret not getting your number, darling.”

Your lips twitch slightly. “You can have my number if you want, Tom,” you say, speaking softly. His eyes are so pretty up close. “And I’d be down doing it again. I’m free every Wednesday afternoon.”

He nods his head, curls bouncing from the enthusiasm. You pass him back the flask, carefully angling your phone away from him as you unlock it, quickly exit from Instagram, then open up contacts. You watch him input his number, tongue between his lips as his brows furrow. He curses softly as he messes up the numbers and has to backspace a few times, and you have to focus hard on not letting your face betray how cute you find the whole interaction.

He’s cute.

“There you go,” Tom says, passing your phone back. He stands from the bench, tilting the flask towards you. “I’ve gotta go,” he adds. “Carpool. But, uh… See you tomorrow?”

You nod, biting back your smile. “Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds good.”

Before he leaves, Tom darts down to gently kiss your cheek, his lips lingering there for a moment before he springs back and walks away, waving as he goes. As his broad smile fades from sight, you find your hand drifting up, going to your cheek and touching the spot which tingles with the remnants of his kiss.

Swallowing back your nerves, you return your attention to your phone. You open your contact, clicking on Tom and opening up a text message. After a brief moment of contemplation, you decide to play it safe.

Y/N: hey x

A moment later, the notification changes from delivered to read, and the typing bubbles pop up. You shift on the bench, holding your breath.

Tom: hi xx

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

A few weeks pass, and it becomes a habit.

Despite already spending most of your days on the ice, you carve out another hour every Wednesday afternoon and dedicate it to Tom. Over time, he teaches you hockey, and you continue to give him pointers on his skating. After a while, you even manage to coach him through a jump. It’s easy with him. There are no expectations, no routines you need to nail. All you have to focus on when you’re with Tom is having fun—and also trying not to fall too deeply into the reserves of his deep brown eyes. Tom feels like a breath of fresh air—if the air also happens to be loaded full of charm, cheek, and wear an irresistible smile.

Halfway through the hockey league, you end up at the arena on a Saturday night, staying late with the rest of the figure skating team. Your competitive season begins in two weeks, so the team is in for outfit fittings, everyone split across the changing rooms at the arena. You’re competing solo this year, which grants you the rare position of having the freedom to design your dress—a privilege you’ve had a lot of fun with.

“It’s beautiful,” you gasp. “I can’t believe how nice it looks.”

You’re staring at a clothes mannequin, wearing the costume you’d spent hours conceptualising with the team’s designers. It’s a shade of red that perfectly compliments your skin, accented with silver and gold detailing in a beautiful pattern over the front. Gems glimmer and sparkle, and you can’t stop your eyes from tearing up as you look at an object of such beauty.

“Do you like it?” Standing beside the masterpiece, eyes nervous, is Jazzy, the lead costume designer. When you clasp your hands together and nod, she releases a deep sigh of relief. “Thank goodness,” she murmurs. “Let’s get you in it and start marking out the alterations.”

You feel a little bit like a doll, standing on a raised platform as you pull on your costume, but it’s worth the reward of seeing yourself in the dress. After slipping into it, you pull your hair back and pin it sloppily, so you’re able to admire the ensemble fully. You’re in tights, matched to your skin tone, and the tops of your thighs are covered by the red material. It floats down, and you run your fingertips over the hem of the velvety skirt as a smile finds your lips.

“Stunning,” Jazzy compliments. She passes you a tube of lipstick. “Try that one.”

You carefully smooth the shade over your lips, noting with enjoyment how the hue matches the bodice of the dress. As you stare at your reflection in the mirror, you release a breath. When you have your face painted and your hair done properly, you’ll look the part, and clinging to the image of what you’ll look like on competition days is enough to steady some of the nerves. Even if you mess up your routine, you’ll do it looking like you deserve to be there.

“I love it,” you say, releasing a breath. You reach up and pull your hair free, running a hand through it and ruffling it, so it sits normally. You do a small spin, smiling as the material drifts around the top of your legs. “You did an incredible job. Thank you so much.”

“Thank you for wearing it so well,” she returns, winking. “Let’s get a few more opinions.”

It isn’t long before the changing room is swarmed with the rest of your team, each one of them wearing garments in various stages of completion. The men are here too—four of them, combining with the five other women and yourself, bringing your team up to an even ten. Each season, your team puts forward various combinations of skaters for the duet, team, and solo events. You’re one of the only skaters competing solo this year—a decision your coach had made as she decided she wants no distractions for you as you try to reach Olympic level. The only other member of your team in a similar position is Tai, your lean, incredibly friendly male counterpart.

Tai saunters across the room, running a hand through his thick black hair. His outfit is deep purple and shimmery, and you wiggle your eyebrows as he does a little spin.

“Pretty sick, right?” he says, shaking a sleeve at you. “I look like Dionysus.”

“So cool,” you compliment. You do a small spin too, smiling widely. “What do you think?”

“Stunning,” Tai returns. He nods to affirm his point. “You’re going to kill it, Y/N. This is your year.”

You smile nervously. “I hope so,” you reply. You take a tight breath. “I really hope so.”

Before the conversation can continue, there’s the slamming of a door opening, followed by an approaching wall of noise—men, talking loudly, a few of them hollering. You raise an eyebrow towards Tai, who scowls.

“Saturday night,” he says. “The team are in the playoffs.”

“Wait, is it a home game?”

Tai nods. “Starts in twenty,” he says. His frown intensifies. “They’re so loud. Idiots.”

You watch from your position on the dressing podium as flashes of white, green and orange pass by the open door. It’s the hockey team, alongside their coaches and their managers. They walk determinedly in the direction of the hockey changing room where you presume they’re going for a pre-game pep talk. You can’t stop yourself from scanning the crowds, looking for Tom. When you fail to seek him out, you feel your heart pang sadly in your chest.

“Y/N?” Tai’s looking at you, amused. “Are you okay?”

You swallow, then nod. “Yeah,” you mutter. “Just tired.”

He hums, eyes wide and sympathetic. “Me too. It’s been a busy week, hasn’t it?”

It’s easy to agree. At this point in the season, with so few weeks to go before the competition begins, you’re at the rink every day.

“Absolutely.”

You stifle a yawn. Your eyes flutter back across the changing room, and you see your tired sentiments seem to be shared by the rest of the team. As they slowly start to leave the room, it grows quieter. Tai drifts away, lingering in the corner and talking with Jazzy and Yelena. It isn’t long until you’re the only four people remaining. You spend a few moments taking photos of your fit in the mirror, trying to get in all the angles so you can send them to your family and fuel their excitement about the season. Your actions are interrupted only when there’s a tender knock on the door, and you glance up towards the entrance to see a bulky, padded figure. Tom.

“Uh, hello? The hockey room is across the corridor,” Yelena says, crossing her arms over her chest.

Tom isn’t in his helmet, but he is perched tall on his skates. You’re able to watch as his face twitches with annoyance. He offers a tight smile to Yelena before glancing straight at you, raising a teasing brow.

Chest feeling tight, you step forward, padding quietly towards the door. Your friends are all looking at you, but you’re more preoccupied with Tom and the way his eyes seem to glint as they take you in your form. There’s a small swagger to your step as you watch him shift from leg to leg, his cheeks warm and red, eyes full of appreciation as they stick on the curves of your hips, chest, and then your lips. Your suit is tight, and it brings you enjoyment to watch him admire you. He clears his throat as you fall to a stop in front of him.

“Hey,” you say, voice quiet, perplexed. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have a game?”

Tom nods. “Yeah,” he says. His tone is darker, and it catches slightly. “I, uh… I wanted to see you.”

You bite your lip, standing a little straighter. “Oh.” You can’t stop yourself from smiling. “Well… Do you like it?” You toy with the hem of your skirt. “It’s my outfit for the competition circuit.”

“Give me a spin, darling.”

You oblige him, feeling slightly giddy as you do yet another rotation. You hear him hum, and when you fall to a stop in front of him again, you’re closer.

“Beautiful.” Tom rubs together his hands, slender fingers gloveless and unaffected by the imminent game. He rocks back on his skates, clicking his tongue as he looks a little apprehensive. “I, uh… I was thinking about what you said last week about never going to a hockey game before.” He pauses to dig through one of his deep pockets, pulling out a few pieces of paper. He offers them to you tentatively. “If you want, I have some spare tickets for tonight’s game. Pretty good seats. My family normally use them, but they’re busy tonight, so…?”

It’s with a mix of shock and gratitude that you nod your head immediately, reaching out to take the tickets. “I’d love to, Tom,” you murmur. “Thank you.”

He grins, face lighting up. “Perfect,” he returns. “Maybe you’ll be my lucky charm.”

Your teeth graze your lower lip, and you smile. “I hope so.”

Tom opens his mouth as if to say more, but then there’s a holler from further down the corridor.

“Dutchy! Five minutes! Hurry up!”

He grimaces, rolling his eyes. “Well, that’s me.”

“Dutchy?” you question.

Tom shrugs, then turns around and extends his thumb over his back to gesture at his jersey. “Holland,” he says. He turns back to look at you, grinning. “Just a nickname.”

You coo. “That’s cute.”

Tom licks his lip. “‘S not the only thing that’s cute.” You barely have time to respond before he’s leaning forward to quickly kiss your cheek. “Have fun!” he says, already on his way down the corridor.

“Good luck!” you return. You can almost feel the ghost of his touch, resting on your face so perfectly.

Tom turns, right at the end of the corridor, and he winks. You don’t realise how tightly you’re holding yourself until he disappears, and your lovestruck muscles unravel.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s hard to explain to Tai and Yelena the relationship you have with Tom, so you just give up after a while. They accompany you to the arena. You manage to change your dress for something more casual, deciding to keep the red lipstick on. Tom’s seats are at the end of the rink, positioned mid-way up the stands. They give you a clear view across the ice.

The atmosphere is electric. You’re surrounded by the home crowd, decked out in replica jerseys, printed scarves, and hats that have Kingston Kites printed all over them. It’s a sea of white, green, and orange, and you can’t stop yourself from slipping out during the first break to buy yourself a scarf—just to support the team, and Tom. The teasing you receive from your friends when you reappear is hard to ignore but mellows out when you procure a bag of Maltesers you’d also bought from the stand.

And Tom… Tom.

Tom’s incredible. You can’t keep your eyes off him. The silhouette of his padded figure feels like it’s burnt to your memory. When he’s on the ice, he’s magnificent, commanding the space well, grunting and spinning as he plays. When he’s waiting for his turn on the bench with his team, he’s focused and calm. His eyes are sharp and intense, glinting almost black beneath the harsh rink lighting as they follow the puck across the ice. You find yourself admiring everything about him—watching the way his cheeks are flushed a rosy red, his jawline sharp and fierce. He’s on fire, passion rolling off every part of him, and, quite honestly, it’s incredibly attractive.

Tom’s explained the basic rules of hockey to you a few times, but there’s a stark difference between him telling you, quietly, how line rotations work and actually seeing them in action on a scale like this. The players swap out every minute, only staying on the ice for a short burst of energy as they chase the puck around. Tom, holding the loose position of centre forward, goes wherever needed, carving up the ice like it’s his one task in life. You’re high in the stands, but even from so far, you’re able to see the determination and the passion burning in his eyes.

The game is brutal. By the time it reaches the third and final twenty-minute segment, the score is tied 2-2. You watch, on tenterhooks, as Tom jumps the barrier on the side of the rink, swapping in for one of the players and taking his spot on the ice.

He’s antsy, as are the rest of the team. You know it’s an important match, and if they want a chance at continuing to the next stage of the competition, they need the result to swing in their favour. Your eyes are wide, fingers curled into fists as you watch Tom cut up the ice. The helmet on his head protects his skull, but you can make out a few strands of dark brown hair sticking out, and you find yourself struck with the very prominent and aching thought that you’d quite like to play with it.

The puck ends up at your end of the rink, and the Kingston Kites take on a defensive strategy as their opponents try to put pressure on the goalie and get in another shot. You find your eyes trained directly on Tom and startle as you catch him looking up at you. Through panting breaths, his lips quirk into a brief, tight smile of recognition, but then it sours as his eyes slip beside you and look at Tai. Your friend is sitting to your right, his arm loosely wrapped around your shoulders, and you’re casually leaning into his side. It’s entirely platonic, but you don’t miss the way Tom’s eyebrows shoot up as his gaze hardens and his jaw sets with determination.

The whole interaction lasts less than a second, but as Tom refocuses on the game and hurtles after the puck, he seems more aggravated. You sit forward, gaining a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach as you shrug off Tai and stare at Tom. Your eyes follow him as he goes in hard, trying to wrestle the puck out from beneath his opponent’s stick. It looks to be a bit of a mess, and you hear everyone in your section gasp as Tom roughly elbows the other guy. He goes spinning with a yelp, and the referee blows on the whistle, pausing the game. There are a few yells of ‘Dutchy’, coupled with disgruntled hollering from the people around you as they question the referee’s decision to pause.

“Fucking hell,” Yelena murmurs, leaning forward on her elbows and staring across the ice. “Your guy is crazy.”

You suck in a breath, watching as the referee points at the penalty box and Tom stomps towards it. You can almost see the frustrated steam pouring from his ears.

“He’s… passionate.” You bite your lip. Somehow, you feel responsible for his outburst.

“Shit,” Tai mutters. He too leans forward, until all three of you are sitting there, elbows on your knees, staring at the penalty box. “That’s kind of hot.”

Your throat feels dry as you watch Tom throw his stick on the ground of the penalty box. Given all the walls are made of plastic, you have an unobstructed view as he pulls off his helmet and tosses it on a seat too. He marches a few paces up and down, speaking angrily to himself, his expression one of pure irritation. When he finally sits down, he runs a gloved hand through his hair, pushing away the sweaty strands that stick so deliciously to the top of his flushed forehead. You watch, your breath light and shallow, as Tom jerks off the glove and shoves his fingers into his mouth, pulling out his mouthguard before picking up a bottle and squirting a long stream of water into his open mouth.

“Fuck,” you murmur, eyes transfixed. There’s a heat in the pit of your stomach, building as you take in the way Tom’s glowing with a mix of exertion and anger. The match is continuing back on the ice, but you can’t stop looking at the hot flush of his cheeks and the angry lines of his flexed brows and curved jaw. “It is.”

A minute passes, and Tom slowly seems to chill out. It’s only as the seconds fall down into the 30s that he finally seems to release his tension, fixing his mouthguard, and his glove before glancing up at the stands. You’re surprised when, again, he looks directly at you, his entire demeanour shifting when he sees the concern in your eyes. His features soften, lips losing their angry frown and mellowing into a warmer smile, and you watch as his gaze grows fonder.

Yelena hits at your knee immediately. “He’s in love with you,” she announces, certainty in her voice.

You can’t stop looking at Tom, not even when he breaks contact with a wink and shoves his helmet back on.

“Shut up,” you murmur. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”

Tai cackles. “Fuck off,” he says. “Yelena’s right. Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

You sit up, glaring at him. “Like what?”

He smirks. “Like you want to jump each other.”

It’s hard to dispute that one, so instead, you just cross your arms over your chest and stare back at the ice. “You’re wrong, but okay.”

Yelena nudges your side. “There’s only one way to find out.”

“Hmm?”

“Stay behind after the match and ask him.”

You swallow nervously, briefly looking at her. “But what if you’re wrong?”

“I’m not,” she promises. “But… If I am, I’ll let you style my hair for the rest of the season.”

Your eyes light up, and the way that Yelena smirks, you can tell she knows the offer is too good to refuse.

“Fine,” you agree. Your eyes shift back to Tom, watching as he vaults back over the barrier and joins his team. Apparently they’ve forgiven him for the penalty, as he’s welcomed back with firm pats on the back, and you can see his blinding smile from across the rink. “I’ll do it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

The Kingston Kites win the match, and the arena is quick to empty. You part ways with your friends as they head home and you end up wandering the changing rooms as you try to hype yourself up. There’s a text from Tom waiting on your phone, simply asking how you’d liked the game, so you respond and tell him that you’d much rather go over it in person. After agreeing to meet him outside his locker room, it’s just a waiting game.

You reapply your lipstick and mess around with your hair to kill the time. It’s a little eerie being alone in the skating changing rooms, and as time passes, you hear fewer people hovering around the arena as the players slowly leave the building. It’s hard not to get stuck in your head as you think about your plan to confess your feelings, so you end up pacing in the long corridor that winds between the skating changing rooms and the hockey locker room.

The corridor is bright white and decorated with various sporting memorabilia. Autographed jerseys, shining medals, and printed photographs hang framed on the walls. On your side of the corridor, you catch glimpses of yourself, wearing a tracksuit and hugging your friends, showing off your medals, mid-action on the ice… It makes you proud to see that your team has placed you so frequently in the collage, and you feel a swell of bittersweet gratitude in your chest as you look at snapshots of competitions gone by.

On the other side of the corridor is a similar spread for the hockey team. You stroke at your chin as you examine this season’s photos, skimming your eyes over the group shot and trying to spot the people that you know. When you see Tom, dead centre, grinning widely, it makes you smile.

“—I’m just saying, Dutch, something was going on with you tonight. It can’t happen again. We can’t have you losing focus at this stage in the competition.”

The sound of a gruff voice drifting up the corridor makes you startle, and you glance down to see two figures emerging from the locker room—Tom, and one of his coaches. Tom has traded his gear for a pair of blue jeans and a loose black hoodie, and you watch as he nods and looks at his coach with wide-eyed respect.

“Of course, Spike,” he responds, voice clear, open. “It won’t.”

You watch as Spike sighs, then gives Tom a hearty pat on the shoulder. “Good lad.” He walks back, then makes the okay sign with his fingers. “Your final goal was phenomenal, though. More of that next game, and less time in the penalty box. Got it?”

“Yes, coach.”

“Good. See you tomorrow.”

Tom grunts and the two separate. You watch as he tugs on the front strings of his backpack before turning, his face lighting up as he spots you, leaning against the wall. He quickly strides towards you, footsteps echoing against the cold passage.

“Hey,” Tom calls out, voice bouncing down the hall.

There’s an uncontrollable smile on your face as you stand up and walk to meet him halfway. Tom instinctively wraps you in a hug, lips catching on your cheek when he pulls away.

“Hi,” you reply, voice shy. Tom smells of shower gel and mint, his curls a little damp and darker than usual. “Congrats on the win.”

Tom smirks, nodding as he crosses his arms over his chest. “Thanks, love. Did you enjoy it?”

You release a short laugh. If enjoyment equates to found it incredibly erotic, then, of course, the answer is,

“Yes. Loved it.” You tilt your head to the side, eyes narrowing. “Did you get in trouble for the penalty box?”

He winces, grimacing at you with his teeth glinting. “A bit,” he admits. “Doesn’t matter though, ‘cos I scored a goal after. I just need to, um… Not do it again.”

The air between you is thicker, and you find yourself swallowing as you note the way Tom’s looking at you, eyes hungry.

“What happened?” You say, testing the waters tentatively. “You seemed fine, and then you got… Fired up.”

Tom swallows. “I… Just got tetchy.” He clears his throat. “Who, uh… Who were you at the match with?”

You smirk, realising that your hypothesis was right. “My friends. Yelena and Tai. They’re on the team with me.”

“Friends?” Tom confirms, expression perking up.

“Yeah. Friends.”

He steps closer. “Did they like the game?” he asks.

“Yeah. They thought you were hot.”

Tom chuckles, briefly glancing at the floor before drawing his eyes back to you. They linger on your lips, and your breath hitches as he tentatively, testingly reaches out and places his hands on your hips. When you sink into it, he grows bolder, pulling you closer until your faces are near. You love the way his hands feel as they rest on your waist.

“Did you?”

“Hmm?”

“Did you think I was hot?”

It’s hard to concentrate when Tom’s standing so close to you, looking at you with his eyes so intense, but somehow you manage to wrap your arms around his neck and nod. “Yeah,” you admit. You toy with his curls, giving them a short tug when he groans enjoyably. “I always think you’re hot.”

Tom wears his smirk so well that it’s almost infuriating.

“Do you want to know a secret?” he asks, fingers softly caressing your sides. When you squeak out a noise of affirmation, Tom lets his nose brush up against yours. He swallows deeply, nervousness mixing with his teasing. “I think you’re stunning, too. All the time, but especially tonight, when you were sitting up there, wearing a team scarf and watching me play.”

“Oh,” you murmur. It’s hard to maintain eye contact with him when there’s so much going on in the depths of his gaze that it dizzies you. “Thank you.” Growing a little bolder, you let your fingers glide up, tangling in the ends of his hair. “It was fun watching you play. You’re really talented, Tom.”

His nose is still cold against yours, and you let your eyes fall shut as he slowly traces patterns over your sides.

“Thanks, darling.”

Instinctively, and embarrassingly, you feel a shiver roll down your spine as the pet name falls from his lips. Usually, you’d be able to play it off from the cold, or like you’re stretching a muscle, but he’s holding you so close that you’re sure he felt it.

“Tom,” you say, voice hushed. You feel safe in his arms, you feel loved in his arms, but your skin is still crawling with built-up desire. There’s an ache in your chest that burns brighter with each second he lingers so close, but yet remains so far. “Do you want to…”

“What, sweetheart?”

Again, your breath catches. You hear Tom release a small chuckle, and then, after a final moment, his lips fill in the small gap between you both. You sink into it immediately, heart rejoicing as his lips, warm and slightly chapped, explore your own.

It’s a little fumbly, and it takes a few moments for you to learn the slopes of his face so intimately, but once you’ve both readjusted and altered your positions, it’s quick to heat up. Tom’s fingers grip your waist tighter, mouth pressing to yours with more hunger as you wind your fingers into his hair and sigh. Between gasped breaths and soft sounds of enjoyment, you feel him slip his tongue along your lower lip, and so you open your mouth a little wider.

You end up against the cool brick wall, making out like you’re both teenagers again. The exhilarating butterflies twirling in your stomach match the memories, too. You moan softly as Tom pulls away from your mouth, his attention shifting to your neck. As you tilt your head to the side and open up your throat to him, you whimper as you feel his lips drag over your exposed skin. He nibbles and suckles until he finds the sensitive part that makes you cry out.

“Fuck,” you whimper. You tug on his air-dried curls, coaxing him back up to your lips so you can enjoy the feeling of his mouth on yours. Tom sighs, and you can feel him smiling into it.

There are noises, coming from further down the hall, and when they increase in volume, Tom reluctantly pulls back from your mouth. He links your hands together and swings them through the air, looking up to meet your eyes. His face is cute, lips puffy and red, eyes dancing with hope.

“D’you want to—”

“Oi, Dutchy!”

You jump as a holler comes from down the hall, echoing off the vast brick walls. Tom’s expression shifts, his lips pursing as he glances down the corridor. He turns away from you to yell back.

“What?”

You think it’s Osterfield, one of Tom’s friends. He too is dressed casually, standing tall with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

“We’re going out! Don’s got us the VIP section down at the Grove. C’mon!”

Tom looks torn, a ripe line carved out between his brows. He glances back at you, biting his lower lip.

“Go,” you urge, smiling softly. “Celebrate with your team.”

He frowns slightly. “Come with us?” he asks.

You shake your head. “No, it should just be you guys.” As much as you like Tom, you can’t think of anything worse than going on a night out with the entire loud, boisterous hockey team. You smile encouragingly when you see the turmoil in his eyes. “You deserve it.”

“Are you sure? Because I can stay here, and we can—”

You lean up, moving your hands back down to his shoulders as you kiss him very softly. “Go,” you urge, whispering against his thin lips.

Tom leans into you, keeping your lips pressed until you can feel him smiling into it. He begrudgingly steps back. “Thank you,” he says, “for coming to the game. And being so lovely.” His lips quirk a little taller. “And for letting me kiss you.”

“Well, it didn’t take much convincing.” You cross your arms over your chest and lean back against the wall, your figure feeling colder without Tom’s touch. His eyes run the lines of your face, gaze warm and comforting.

“Have a nice night,” he says. There’s still hesitation on his face, so you step forward and kiss his cheek before gently pushing his shoulder.

“You too” you respond. Tom finally walks away, but only after shooting you a wink.

You lean back against the wall, pulling out your phone and staring at the blank screen as you discreetly keep your focus on Tom. When he reaches the end of the corridor, Osterfield thumps him on the back and murmurs something unintelligible which earns him a shove into the doorway as the two friends leave together. Tom glances back just before disappearing, and you smile at him as he waves his hand playfully.

Once alone, you release a tight sigh of contentment. You deflate, sagging against the wall as you feel your heart beating faster in your chest. Absently, one of your hands drifts up, fingertips resting on the outline of your lips. Your mouth is still warm from Tom’s kisses, and your heart feels a little softer, too.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

You don’t see him for a while, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t constantly on your mind. At some point, Tom adds you to his private Instagram story, and it feels like a gentle confirmation that he feels the same way as you. You stay in constant contact, and he starts to send you more memes and silly texts each evening. The smile on your lips barely fades, and every time your phone lights up with a new text from him, you get excited.

Unfortunately, the high doesn’t last forever. All too soon, it’s a week before your first competition, and the good feeling finally goes away. As extended practices cut into your life, you’re left frazzled and stressed, trying to balance your team’s expectations against your own personal competitiveness. It doesn’t help that your ankle is giving you grief again.

“No, no, no. You’re better than this, Y/N! Stop cutting the spin too early. You have to extend it into the end of the beat!”

It’s a Thursday morning, and you’re exhausted. The bags beneath your eyes hang heavy, and every manoeuvre you try to execute just seems to leave you worse than before. You’re cold on the ice, and your bones are chilled from fatigue and stress. Everything aches, and try as you might, you can’t land the final ten seconds of your routine. Your coach has forced you to go over it again and again, minutes blurring to hours as your frustration festers.

“It’s not working,” you call back, reaching up to tug on your hair. Your coach is leaning against the rink barrier, resting on her elbows as she watches you, pursed lips.

“Do it again,” she encourages. “Faster!”

You grit your teeth, skating back into the centre of the ice. The music starts again, and you run through the entire final section, nailing the parts that you know. Yet, as you reach the big finish, you falter. You end up flat on the ice, frustrated tears burning your eyes as your ankle throbs. As the track cuts out again, you hear your coach’s loud sigh, carrying across the ice.

“Pack it in. We’ll continue tomorrow.”

You grimace as you climb back to your feet, wincing slightly.

“I can do it again,” you call back, swallowing down the lump in your throat. You want to. You have to.

Your coach shakes her head, lips set in a firm line. “You can’t,” she responds. “You’re worn out and making mistakes. Your injury won’t sustain you.” She pauses to shake her head. “This isn’t what any of us want, Y/N, but you need to rest.”

Your fingernails dig into your palms as you grit your teeth. “But—”

“No. Go home.” Your coach pushes off from the barrier, shaking her head. When you fail to move, she turns back, arching a brow. “Go.”

A string of irritated cuss words falls quietly from your lips as you reluctantly skate from the centre of the rink. Your fingers go to your cheeks, wiping away the cool tears that fall from frustration. It’s a private session, but a few of your team are hanging around. Their sympathetic smiles and gentle arm pats make you bristle, and you’re silently seething as you stomp over to one of the benches and throw yourself onto it, groaning.

You lie down and stare at the ceiling for a while, trying to focus on your breathing. It’s just one bad training session. You’ve landed the end section of your routine plenty of times before. It’s just a bad day.

…But it’s also a bad day, one week before the first rounds of competitions, where a performance like the one you just gave would have you finishing in last place, your Olympic dreams crumbling to pieces.

You close your eyes, clenching your hands into fists as you stretch out over the bench. Your teammates know to give you space, so you aren’t sure why you feel a shadow falling across your face. You ignore it for a few moments, putting it down to someone unknown peering at you fleetingly, but when it persists, you pry an angry eye open.

“What— Tom?”

For the second time, you find yourself surprised by his presence. Tom is standing beside your bench, swallowed by a deep green hoodie with a blue denim jacket pulled over the top of it. In his hands are a stack of papers and his eyes are full of concern.

“Hi,” Tom says quietly, looking a little embarrassed. His cheeks are dusted light pink. You wonder how long he’s been staring at you for. “Are you okay? I, uh… I saw the end of your training.”

You feel rigid and breakable as his eyes pool with warmth, his gaze like tender sunbeams. When he steps closer and presses a gentle hand to your shoulder, your stress bubbles over. As you bring your knees to your chest, you press the side of your face into them, blinking up at him as a few tears skate down your cheeks.

“Hey, hey, hey,” he murmurs, cooing softly. “Don’t cry, darling.”

Tom gently coaxes you up the bench and sits behind you, throwing a leg either side of the wood to straddle it. You let him pull you back into him, his arms feeling warm and strong as he hugs you tightly from behind. He burrows his face into your neck, warm hands going up to cup your cheeks as his fingertips carefully flick your tears away.

“I’m not sad,” you murmur, swallowing back another wave of tears. “I’m just annoyed.”

“I know.” Tom pauses, and you take a moment to breathe in the scent of fresh laundry. “It’s the most frustrating thing in the world when you can’t get something right. But if you work yourself into the ground, you won’t ever be able to do it.”

“But- but what if I want to work myself into the ground,” you mutter, causing him to chuckle.

“Then you’d be silly.” Tom kisses your cheek, his lips warm and light. “And you’re not silly. You’re the strongest athlete that I know, Y/N. You just need to let other people look after you. Let… Let me look after you.”

Your breath hitches and slowly, you pull your face away from your knees. You stretch your legs out in front of you and turn to look at Tom, curiosity in your gaze as you think about how close he’s holding you, and how passionately he’s speaking to you.

“Thank you,” you say, voice quiet. A shy smile curls across your lips.

Tom hums. His hands fall down to your shoulders, and he gently squeezes your arms. “Go have a shower,” he says. “You’ll feel better, and then I’ll look after you some more.”

You reach out, fingers twirling around the strings of his hoodie. “You’re too nice to me,” you murmur, shyly ducking away from his gaze. “How are you so perfect?”

He laughs, the sound so ripe and joyful that it brings warmth back to your chest.

“I’m not,” Tom disputes. “I just care about you.”

You hum, and before you can lose your cool, you lean in and softly kiss him. Tom’s still for a moment, but then he pushes closer, gently and delicately kissing you back. His hands swoop down to hold your waist, lightly stroking over your sides. When you pull away a few moments later, you feel steadier.

“Hmm,” you say, mind running slow, ensnared by the glimmers of warmth in his eyes. “I like kissing you.”

Tom chuckles, nose brushing yours. “I like kissing you too.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It turns out that Tom’s right—you do feel better after having a shower. As you find yourself in the deserted skating changing rooms, the sight of your troubles being swirled away down the plughole releases a large part of your stress. The hot water coaxes your good mood back, and it continues, even when you have to wrap up your ankle again.

By the time Tom reappears, knocking gently on the changing room door before entering, you feel better. You’ve changed clothes, washed your hair, cleansed yourself of all the bad energy that had clogged you up. You feel like you again.

“I got this for you,” Tom announces. He holds a disposable cup in his hand and presents it to you with a grin. “Hot chocolate, for m’lady.”

You roll your eyes as you accept it, looking up at him with gratitude warming your chest. “Thanks, Tom.”

He glances down, eyes taking in your form. You’re again stretched out on a bench, one of your legs bent at the knee, the other laying out in front of you. A few bandages hang around, and Tom looks at them curiously.

“How’s your ankle?” he asks, chewing on his lower lip as he stares at your fluffy sock.

“It’s okay,” you reply. “I braced it. Should be alright as long as I take it easy.”

Tom nods, then very slowly walks to the end of the bench. He runs his index finger down the bottom of your leg, his touch light but warm. You’re in a skirt, your legs bare and exposed, and as you take in the mischievous glint in his eye, you wonder what he has in mind.

“Y/N,” Tom starts, voice gentle. His fingertips play around with the top of your sock as he looks up at you from beneath his lashes. “Can I kiss it better?”

You’re breathing a little lighter as you look at him. “Yeah,” you agree. “Go ahead.”

Tom kneels on the floor, settling beside the bench with ease. With gentle fingers, he rolls down the top of your sock, just far enough so he’s able to leave a very soft kiss to your tender skin. He doesn’t linger there too long, his eyes fixed to your face, but his lips don’t leave you, either. Very carefully, taking his time, Tom starts to drop kisses to your skin. He gradually works his way further up your leg, dusting warm, open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your shin, then your knee.

You shift on the bench as Tom starts to come higher, one of your hands drifting down to rest in his curls. You put the disposable cup on the floor as you watch him. There’s a heat slowly building in the pit of your stomach, and with each meeting of your flesh and Tom’s mouth, it grows more pronounced. It isn’t long before you’re parting your legs, his lips pausing at the bottom of your thigh as he changes from light kisses to deeper, needier sucks. A short whimper travels from your mouth, wobbling into the air as his lips draw the blood to the surface of your skin.

“You’re so pretty,” Tom murmurs, looking up at you from the ground. His eyes are wide, darkened with lust. He splays his hand along your neglected thigh, rubbing gentle circles to the skin. You whimper when he drops his tongue to lap over one of the marks he’s pulled to the surface of your skin. “Do you want me to go any higher?” His voice is raspy.

The space between your legs is throbbing, and immediately you nod. “The, uh, the door,” you murmur, voice shaking. Tom presses a final kiss to your inner thigh before standing up. He winks at you before jogging to the changing room door, easily flicking the lock, then coming back towards you. “Are you, um… Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Tom grins. He sinks down to his knees beside your head, his hands tugging the bottom of your legs. You sit up on the edge of the bench and turn as your thighs open over his shoulders. Tom kneels between them, his bed of brown curls complementing your skin tone nicely. He presses a kiss to your neglected leg before his hands carefully skim up to play with the hem of your skirt.

“I wouldn’t mind one bit,” he replies, his voice a little darker. He tilts his head as he meets your gaze, smirking softly. “I’d really like to. Do you want to know a secret, darling?” Tom’s fingers slide up, his index and his middle making contact with the front of your panties. As he traces delicately over the front of your core, small arcs of pleasure roll out from your centre. The way his lips twitch taller makes you wonder if he can feel the way your cunt seems to throb.

“Yeah,” you respond, voice light. A whimper passes through your lips as Tom applies a little more pressure to your covered clit, your hips gyrating down to meet his fingertips in response.

He pulls back, only to push your skirt out of the way, tutting quietly when you mewl.

“Been wondering what you’d taste like for ages, love,” he coos. He uses his grip on your thighs to pull you closer, and you moan when he buries his head between your legs. Your panties are still on, but that doesn't stop Tom from nosing up against your slit, hot breath fanning out across your warmth. When he draws his tongue over the front of your panties, you release a breathless whine. “Bet it tastes as pretty as you are.”

You reach down and bury your hand back into his curls, pulling Tom closer as he ghosts his tongue over the front of your panties. He’s lapping lightly up your slit, the pleasure muted but still there, and your eyes fall shut as the muscles in your thighs tense.

“Fuck, Tom,” you whine, feeling your cunt pulse. “Take them off. I need more.”

His nimble fingers are quick to follow your instructions, and as soon as your hips are falling back to the bench, his mouth is on you. You cry out as you finally feel him, the pleasure direct and far greater than you’d expected. Tom devours you, using both of his thumbs to press your lips apart as his tongue travels all over your heat. He spends a while focusing on your clit, the tip of his tongue firm and unrelenting, but when you start to whine a little louder, he teases you by drawing away. He flattens his tongue and licks a few broad strokes up your centre, moaning against you until you’re fisting at his hair and shaking.

“Fuck,” you whine, voice barely there. “Feels so good.”

Tom’s complete attention is on you and your eyes roll back when he teases your entrance with his mouth. One of his thumbs rolls up to toy with your clit as he pushes his tongue into you, your walls throbbing as he explores you. You push him deeper, obscenities mixing with slurred acclamations of his name, and it’s as though you can feel your pulse hammering in your head.

“Knew it. Tastes like fucking heaven,” Tom murmurs, pulling away from your entrance to shoot you a smirking smile. He brings two fingers to your pussy and teases you there, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead when you moan and rut down against them, taking agency and fulfilling your desires. “Shit, baby. You’re so wet.” He fucks your heat, eyes moving off your face and fixing on the mess between your legs as he coos. “I can feel you clenching around my fingers. Does that feel good?”

“Yeah,” you whine. When Tom drops his head and wraps his lips back around your clit, you cry out. “Getting so close,” you say, words tangling together as your chest heaves. You feel so hot, your body trembling as your edge hangs in sight. “Keep going, f-fuck, Tom. You’re so good.”

He adds a third finger to your heat, and your jaw slackens. Tom changes the angle of his digits a few times before curling them just right, and he continues to stroke up against your g-spot as you cry out. You stammer out a few words of warning, and he moans in response. The vibrations of the sound coupled with the way his tongue is applying the perfect amount of warm, sloppy pressure to your clit push you over the edge. As you peak, you fall back onto your elbows, tightening your grip on his hair as your pussy throbs, taking wave after wave of pleasure as it rocks across you and smothers you.

Tom doesn’t stop until you’ve ridden it out completely and you’re sensitive. With a push at his hair, you coax him away, still trying to gather yourself as your throat feels dry. The expression of cocky fulfilment hanging from his lips makes you shiver, and you almost moan again as you take in the sight of his chin, glistening with your arousal.

“How was that?” he asks, cleaning his chin with the back of his hand. Tom carefully stands up, still looking at you as he leans back and picks up a box of tissues from one of the benches. He passes a few to you then leans back against one of the lockers, looking at you admiringly with his arms crossed.

“Really good,” you manage, voice still a little hoarse. You clear your throat and ignore his chuckle as you take care of the mess between your legs with a tissue. Your eyes soften when you look back to him. “Thank you.”

Tom just nods, taking the used tissues and binning them before making a quick stop by a sink to wash his hands. When he strolls back over, he stands in front of you and cups your cheeks in his palms. You stare up at him, smiling as he meets your eyes.

“Glad I could make you feel nice,” he says, voice soft. He leans down to press a gentle kiss to your forehead. “Now… If you have time, I want to take you home. Run you a nice bath, make you some lunch. Make sure you’re looking after yourself.”

You feel your face warm as you listen to his musings, and find yourself biting the inside of your cheek. “You’d want to do all that for me?”

Tom nods. His hands run over your face, fingertips gently caressing your cheekbones. It’s as if he’s examining you, trying to ensure that you’re okay, that you’re safe, that you’re happy. It makes your heart soar.

“‘Course, darling. I care about you a lot.”

You tilt your head to the side so you can kiss the inside of his palm. “Okay,” you agree. You stand up, wincing slightly as your ankle disagrees with taking your weight. Tom’s hands move down to hold your waist, steadying you. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

You start to walk, only to look back at him and glare jokingly. “Can’t believe you ruined my underwear,” you say. “Feels fucking freezing without them on.”

Tom arches a brow, picking up his bag and slinging it over his back before catching up to you. “Um, I think technically it was you who ruined your underwear.”

You scrunch up the tip of your nose, only for your scowl to melt when he kisses it. When you reach the door, you undo the lock and open it, letting Tom through before following him out into the corridor.

“Whatever,” you reply, sinking into his side. His hand is warm in yours, your fingers tangled together nicely. “Worth it.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

It’s noisy in the arena.

With the final match of the season underway and the league title up for grabs, the atmosphere is electric. The stands are packed, frenzied by the presence of the large broadcasting cameras that stream the match live to thousands online. Sitting in the home section, the noise seems louder than it would be elsewhere in the arena. Everyone around you is as invested in the result as you are, and as the energy rises and falls, you feel connected to the mass of strangers around you. You know that they share the ache in your fingers built from the tight clenching of your knuckles into fists, and the strain of your eyes as you spend too long staring at the bright white ice.

The score is 4-4. The players from both teams have been giving some of the most convincing performances of their careers. It’s been close all match.

You hadn’t been sure that you’d be able to make the game, your own days filled with the later stages of your competition, but you’re glad you managed to swing it. Tom needs you.

He’s skating well. He’d assisted one of the team’s goals, and managed to subvert several other shots on goal attempted by his rivals. Tom looks as handsome as ever, face flushed, eyes focused, figure bulked wide with protective padding, but you know he’s nervous. He’s looking up at you more than usual, his teeth gritted together, and his jaw tensed. It’s clear just how much the title means to him.

It’s been a few weeks since Tom came and picked you up after your meltdown at practice, and since then, your feelings for him have escalated. You think it must be a form of torture to watch someone you care about so much getting pushed around, and injured, and hurt on the ice, knowing you can’t do anything but sit and watch it play out in front of you. Every time he gets slammed up against one of the plastic wall barriers, you wince, almost feeling the pain yourself, and despite him always brushing it off and getting on with the game, you worry for him.

“Fucking hell. That looks like it hurts.”

Beside you is Harry, one of Tom’s brothers. You’d met him before the match when Tom had thrust a ticket at you and told you that he’d wrestled it off one of his other brothers. Your guilt had been assuaged when you’d been told that Paddy finds the finals too stressful to sit through. Harry’s been entertaining you all evening, acting as a buffer between you and his parents, who make you feel nervous being so close to.

“Shit,” you agree. You wince as Tom gets barged into and goes spiralling across the ice, only stopping when one of his teammates catches him. “This is actually brutal.”

Harry makes a low humming noise. He turns to glance at you, then he hesitantly reaches down to pat your knee.

“He’ll be fine, though, Y/N,” he says, speaking a little awkwardly. “It’s uh… just part of the job. He’s used to it. I’ve lost count of how many times he’s broken his nose.”

You hum as you think about the wonky lines of Tom’s face. “True,” you agree. You pull your team scarf further around your figure, snuggling into it in search of relief. “Just isn’t nice to see him hurt.”

Harry makes a humming sound of agreement and releases your leg with a final pat. The game continues, and before you know it, they’re into the last third. As the clock ticks down from 20 minutes, things are tense. Tom blurs with the rest of the team, and your eyes skim around all the figures, moving and spinning across the ice like it’s choreographed. There’s something quite beautiful about how they’re able to execute formations and manoeuvres amidst such chaos.

Your eyes stick to the back of Tom’s jersey, screaming Holland in bright orange. He’s closing in on an opponent, trying to steal the puck with gritted teeth. The air leaves your lungs as the scene plays out in slow motion, your eyes widening to the size of gold coins as you watch the larger man smack the puck with ferocity, attempting a shot on goal before Tom manages to steal it. Instead of the puck flying near the goal, the angle flicks it to the side, and the entire section around you gasps as it soars through the air and collides with Tom’s face. His eyes are fine, given the visor on his helmet, but his nose is exposed, and it bears the brunt.

Your heart stills for a moment, the volume of the arena fading out completely as you see Tom go down, clutching at his nose as a trail of blood drips over the ice. There’s the sound of a whistle, and you only start to breathe again when you see one of Tom’s teammates haul him from the rink. His blood freezes to the ice, leaving a trail of dark marks staining the ground behind him.

“Fuck, fuck,” you find yourself saying, finally tearing your eyes away from Tom to stare at Harry. Tom’s brother is wincing. “What do we do?”

Harry shrugs, grimacing. You look back to the ice to where Tom’s being dragged on his skates back to the team bench. You can see him smiling, but it's indisputable that he’s in pain. You can see it in his eyes, and the way his blood mixes with the salty blend of aching tears. “Can’t really do anything,” he says. “Told you his nose gets it.” Harry pauses for a moment, then gently elbows your side. “You could go down, though. They’ll probably do a quick fix in the tunnel. I doubt he’ll want to be benched for the rest of the match.”

You nod stiffly, but find yourself hesitating. “Are you, uh, sure that he’d want that? It wouldn’t be annoying?” When Harry turns to raise an eyebrow, you chuckle nervously. “I don’t want to knock him out of the zone, y’know?”

Harry’s eyes fill with understanding, but you think you can still detect a layer of teasing to it. “My brother is actually obsessed with you,” he says. “He watches compilation videos from your competitions every single bloody night. Even if you broke his heart, I doubt he’d ever be able to find you annoying. So…” Harry pokes your shoulder. “Get down there, alright?”

You shoot him a smile, unable to pretend that his words don’t warm your heart.

The game is still paused, yet you hurry down the aisle, stepping over trays of discarded nachos and half-filled plastic pints of beer as you utter words of apology to the disgruntled fans. Moving quickly, you dodge up and enter one of the back stairwells, flashing your team ID at security. The arena is a complex system of back corridors and passages, but you know them inside out.

You reach the long corridor that connects the changing rooms to the ice, and you see Tom standing in the middle of it. He’s surrounded by people—doctors, his coach, a few reserve players. Out in the arena, you hear the game pick up, but back here, time is standing still.

“Stay still,” one of the medics says. Tom grumbles something before yelling out a light curse word. The closer you walk, the more you see. Tom’s holding a bunch of stained tissues to the bottom of his nose as the medic quickly bandages his bridge. It’s not advised for him to go back on the ice with a broken nose—but you also know that with ten minutes left on the clock, the patchy fix-it job probably won’t cause permanent damage. You quite like Tom’s wonky nose, anyway.

“He’s such a twat,” Tom grumbles, wincing again. “Did he get benched?”

“Yeah. Penalty.”

“Good.” Tom folds his arms over his chest. When the medic pulls away to dig through his bag of bandages, Tom glances up the corridor. His eyes widen as he sees you, and you watch him do a double-take. When you raise a hand in greeting, his face softens. “Y/N?”

“Hi,” you call out, stepping closer. “Is it okay I’m here? I, um… I was worried.”

He nods, only to receive a scolding from the medic. Smiling sheepishly, Tom beckons you closer. He offers you a hand, gloveless and cold, and you hurry forward to take it.

“‘Course,” he murmurs. Now close, you’re able to see the flecks of dried blood on his face. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” he says, speaking softly as if he knows how frazzled you feel. “Happens all the fucking time.”

“Mmm. Harry said so.”

Tom raises an eyebrow. “Oh, really? How is he? Looking after you?”

You chuckle. “He’s funny,” you say. You roll your thumb over the back of Tom’s knuckles as he winces again, the medic pushing his ice pack out of the way so he can dab a wet tissue at Tom’s nostrils. You realise that his nose has stopped bleeding.

“Funnier than me?”

“Never.” You squeeze Tom’s hand. “You’re doing well out there.”

“Thanks, darling.” Tom glances away from you, looking back at the medic as he finally steps away to gather his stuff. “Can I-?”

“Yes,” the medic confirms. “Just don’t touch anyone. The second you’re done, come find me and I’ll fix you properly.”

Tom nods, then bites back a noise of pain. “Thanks, Doc,” he murmurs. Tom looks back to you, dropping his voice as you’re left alone with him. “I, uh, I gotta go,” he says, tilting his shoulder back in the direction of the ice.

“Okay.” You shoot him a soft smile and squeeze his hand before stepping back. “Good luck, Tom. Smash it.”

He pouts slightly, a wedge forming between his brows. “Kiss?”

“Kiss?” you repeat, snorting softly. When Tom nods sadly, you step nearer and press your hands to his shoulders. You lean up and capture his lips in a warm kiss, smiling into it as his palms paw at your waist. For a very brief moment, you get lost in it, overcome by the round lines of his chapped mouth and the heat of his hands, but you force yourself to step back. You can feel how badly he wants to be out on the ice. “Good luck, handsome,” you say, whispering against his lips. You step back and cross your arms, smiling widely as he blushes. “You’ve got this.”

Tom gives you a final nod, eyes alight. “See ya in ten!” he says, before turning on his skates. You stay watching him until he reaches the end of the corridor, and the smile is still on his face as he turns back to grin at you. The arena goes wild as he reappears, and you find yourself biting your lips as you try to control the butterflies in your stomach.

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

Tom lives about twenty minutes from the arena, and you find yourself waiting on his front step. With your knees pulled to your chin, the chill of a March evening cools your face. You don’t feel the cold much—instead, you’re distracted by the images of the team winning, playing on loop in your mind.

It’s a blur. A snapshot collection of Tom scoring the tie-breaking goal, the sight of the crowd going wild as the final buzzer sounded, the spray of champagne foam sticking to the ice. You’d hung around afterwards, receiving a very messy kiss from Tom who was vibrating from excitement. After a round of celebratory photos, Tom had been hunted down by the medics, and he’d pulled you aside briefly to ask you to meet him here.

You sigh as you stretch your legs out in front of you, looking down at the laces of your shoes and how they contrast the dark cement paving stones. Tom shares his house with Harrison and Harry. You’ve been here a few times, and it feels odd to be here without him.

“Y/N!”

You startle as you look up, so distracted by the loops of your laces that you’d failed to see Tom. He finishes clambering out of a large car, and you think you catch a glimpse of Harry in the front before it goes speeding away from the pavement. Tom approaches, his nose bruised but free of bandages, a wide smirk on his face as he picks up into a light jog. When he reaches you, he sweeps you to your feet, taking your hands firmly and kissing you before you have a chance to say a word. You shiver as he reaches up to cup your cheeks, craving the body heat, sinking into him and the scent of his fresh shampoo.

“You’re shivering,” Tom murmurs, pulling back to stare at you. His eyes widen as guilt shadows his features. “Fuck, how long have you been waiting for me?” He steps back to dig through his pocket, tongue settling between his lips as he hums.

“Ten minutes,” you estimate. When his eyes widen, you shrug bashfully. “Hasn’t been that bad. Next door’s cat came and said hi.”

Tom scowls as he steps past you, driving his key into the front door with ease. “Little ratty thing, isn’t it?” he mutters. He opens the door with a flourish, then steps aside to invite you in. When you walk across the threshold, Tom winds his arms around you from behind, pressing his chin to your shoulder before tilting his lips so he can kiss your cheek. His warm breath fans out across your face. “I’ll warm you up, darling. I’ll make you feel better.”

Ten minutes later, you’re in his bed. Despite his promise of warming you up, you seem to be losing more and more clothes. What had started out as a celebratory kiss has ended in you straddling him, grinding over Tom’s crotch as he gasps into your mouth and grabs at your waist.

You like being on top. It gives you better access to Tom—to the sight of his face constricting with pleasure every time you grind a little harder, and to the sound of his small moans. There’s a shadow along his nose and lining the swell of his cheeks from the break in his nose, and if he wasn’t so tender, you’d try to kiss it better. Instead, you decide to make him feel better in a different way. He’s calmer now than he’d been at the arena when he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off you or his lips away from your neck, but the longer you spend making out with him, the more eager he gets. There’s a dark spark in his eyes that matches the fervour in his grip.

“God,” he murmurs to your lips. “You’re such a beautiful girl.”

A hot flush travels through your body, and you shy your face into his neck. You distract him with kisses, dragging your lips over the firm flesh of his warm skin.

“Can I mark you?” you whisper, dragging your lips up to his ear. Tom moans loudly as you move your teeth over his earlobe and bite lightly.

“Fuck yeah,” he murmurs, rolling his hips up against you. You’ve ditched your jeans, and so has he, but where you’re still draped in a shirt, Tom’s chest is bare and exposed. You run your hand over his arm and feel his muscles there as you kiss up the side of his neck. Deep marks follow in the wake of your lips, but they aren’t nearly as pretty as the sound of Tom’s moans. “Fuck, darling. Shit. Feels so good.”

Tom lasts about a minute more before growling and pushing you from his neck. His eyes glint and a shrill squeal leaves your lips as he picks you up and presses you down onto the mattress. As your back sinks into the bed, the slats creak. Tom cages you in with a forearm either side of your head, one of his hands drifting into the ends of your hair as he very lightly rests his nose against yours.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi.” Your smile twists a little darker as Tom rolls his hips against yours and you feel his cock straining against his boxers. You reach up to play with his hair, tugging on the strands when Tom moans. His curls are fresh and fluffy, air-dried after the shower and silky smooth to touch. You’ve been together a few times since he ate you out in the changing rooms, and though you’re yet to go all the way, you’ve picked up on a few of his preferences. “Are you okay?”

He isn’t doing much, just staring at you, lips parted. His eyes skitter across the shapes of your face before linking up with your own, and you feel your heart clench in your chest as Tom shifts his hand to cup your cheek.

“Just thinking,” he murmurs. He’s speaking quietly, voice gentle as if he’s being fragile with you. “I, um… I want to ask you something?”

You tilt your head to the side. “Right now?” you ask. To prove your point, you snake a hand down between your bodies and apply pressure to his member with the flat of your palm. Tom groans, eyelashes fluttering out across the top of his cheeks. It seems to take him a lot of self-control to nod, and you feel his hips quiver as he holds himself back from grinding into your hand.

“Yeah.” Tom takes a moment to pause. “We’ve been hanging out for a while, Y/N, and I really like you. I think that you’re so talented. And beautiful. Shit, you’re really beautiful.” He chuckles, his nerves showing on his face. “I can’t imagine being with anyone else. I wouldn’t ever want to be with anyone else. So, darling… Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He pulls back to peer at you, teeth clenched, eyes wide.

A smile breaks out across your face.

“I’d love to be your girlfriend, Tom,” you whisper. You lean up to kiss him just as he leans down, and you gasp as you accidentally hit Tom’s nose with yours. He groans, pulling up and dramatically falling onto his back as his limbs splay out. “Shit,” you giggle, sitting up and crawling closer. Tom’s pouting, tenderly poking at the edge of his nostril as he grimaces. “Sorry, baby.”

Tom melts, pulling you back on top of him. “Call me baby again and you can do anything you want to me,” he mutters. A small blush finds his face as he comprehends his words, and you end up smiling softly as you settle over his thighs. One of his large hands curls between your legs and you whimper as he teases you over your panties for a few moments. When he finally dips his fingers beneath the silky material, you find yourself whimpering.

“Feels good,” you moan, pressing your hands to Tom’s chest as he rolls two fingers around your slit. You get antsy and grind down against his touch, wriggling up his legs until his fingertips nudge against your hole.

His hair is spread out against the white sheets of the bed, face screwed into an expression of concentration as he curves his digits into your heat. You whimper, tossing your head back as he works you open with ease, brushing up against your g-spot and stimulating it until you’re gasping. As heat slowly begins to take over your body, you reach down to the hem of your shirt and pull it off. Next to go is your bra, and you guide Tom’s other hand to the curve of your breasts as you ride down on his hand.

“Look so pretty up there,” he murmurs, biting at his lip. “Like an angel, or a princess.” Tom skims his thumb over your nipple, smirking as you whine. “My princess.”

You gnaw on your lip for a moment before sitting up, letting Tom’s fingers slip out from you. You reach down and hook your thumbs beneath the material of his boxers, and Tom seems to get the hint.

“I need you,” you say, speaking quickly. You have to roll away to kick off your pants, and by the time you’re ready, Tom’s sitting up again. He slides up to sit against the headboard, fiddling with a condom and sheathing himself before you can spend too long admiring his length.

“C’mere then, lovie,” Tom coaxes. He pumps his cock in his fist a few times before hitting at his thighs, beckoning you forward. His lips kiss your forehead as you straddle him. Blindly, you reach down to cover his hand in yours, and together, you guide his tip to your entrance. Your slit is hot and pulsing, your body worked up from the teasing and the anticipation. “Are you sure you want this?” he asks, voice softer.

You shoot him a teasing look. “Yes,” you emphasise. You bite your lip as you slowly lower yourself onto him, gasping softly. “Been thinking about this for so long, Tom.”

Tom grasps your lower lip between his teeth, sucking on it harshly before flicking it up and stealing your mouth in a deep kiss. You moan as you settle there, in his lap, your walls stretched around him completely. You can feel everything—the curves of his cock, the press of his tip against your velvety walls, the feeling of his skin on yours. You love it.

It’s quick to become hot and intense. Tom’s hands on your waist, your fingers tangled in his hair. The stretch burns to enjoyment before long, and then you’re just lost in it. You feel so bare to him, beyond the fact that your naked bodies are intertwined so closely, like he’s able to see straight through you. For someone who spends so much of his life fighting aggressively, Tom is remarkably soft. His hips are firm, and his thrusts unrelenting, but his lips on your face are warm, and the words of heated affirmation he whispers into your ear make you melt.

“So tight, princess,” Tom moans, grasping at your waist. He kisses you, groaning into your mouth as you continue to ride him. You alternate your movements, swapping between deep bounces and swirling your hips in broad circles so that you get to feel every delicious line, bump and curve of him. “God. Feels like fucking heaven.”

“I know,” you manage, voice hoarse. You’re not embarrassed by the way there are wet sounds of arousal filling the air—it only seems to spur Tom on as he squeezes at your waist.

Things blur quickly. You can tell that he’s wound up from the stress of the game, and his hand is shaking when he reaches up to cup the top of your heat. You’re quick to match his arousal, feeling your own climax jerking closer as Tom brings his thumb down to your clit. You’re aroused, and your slit is wet, so it’s seamless as he toys with the bud.

His name falls from your lips like a prayer, the syllables blurring as your eyelids drop closed. It’s hard to tell where your body ends and his begins, but you like it. Tom wraps his other arm around your hip and holds you close, touching his lips to yours as he finally spills.

“You’re so perfect,” he moans, his eyes screwing shut. “Shit, Y/N—”

The action of him throbbing against your walls pushes you over the edge too, and you’re panting into him as warm shivers spread over your entire figure. You’re full of a golden buzz as you stop moving, stilling with his cock still pressed inside you. Tom’s lips come down over the top of your head, following in a line from your forehead down your nose before going to your lips. When he finds your mouth, both of you are smiling.

“Wish we could do that forever,” he murmurs. “Felt amazing, darling. You’re amazing.” There’s a rosy flush to his cheeks, and he looks at you like he’s won the greatest prize of the night. “Stay?”

“Overnight?”

“Yeah. Right here.” Tom reaches out to hit the mattress. “I’ll cuddle you,” he promises. “Make you tea. Bring you breakfast.” He smirks. “Make love to you all night.”

You roll your eyes.

“Okay, boyfriend,” you agree.

Tom raises a brow as if he likes the sound of that, then seals the deal with a softer kiss.

“Perfect.” His hands skim up to cup your breasts, and he pecks your lips a final time. “Girlfriend.”

*:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧ *:·ﾟ✧*:·ﾟ✧

There’s an hour to go before you skate in the biggest competition of your life. You’re at the largest arena in London, killing time on one of the practice rinks as you try to forget that you’re so close to delivering your final routine of the season. This routine will decide if you come out on top or not and reveal whether you’ve managed to impress the Olympic talent scouts.

You feel a blend of two very fine emotions—confidence and nervousness. You’re prepared, you’re in control, and you’re ready, but that doesn’t make the prospect of going out there any less daunting. Adrenaline soothes the nerves, and distraction is your best friend.

Tom’s sitting on one of the benches, flitting between watching you and messing around on his phone. You’ve learnt that he’s the only person you like to be around before a competition, and in the month you’ve been officially together, he’s become your rock. He seems to get you—understands the way your brain spins when you’re stressed like this, knows when to step near and when to leave you alone. As if sensing your thoughts lie with him, he glances up from his phone.

The month off from competitions has been kind to Tom. He’d had a cracking set of bruises following his broken nose, but they’re healed now, and his skin carries the golden glow of a champion. After mouthing a few words to him from across the ice, you watch him sit up straighter and put his shoes to the bench. Tom had brought his skates to the arena, despite not being the one competing, because he knows, just as you, that sometimes the best way to relax before a competition is to mess around and distract yourself. Sitting beside him is a very large banner, hand-painted, that wears the words, Go Y/N!. He’d made it with the rest of his team, and you’d almost cried when he’d unrolled it and given it to you, grinning with pride like a small child showing off his art project.

You do a few spins as you wait for him, the small practice arena blurring. A few other people are hanging around—mainly your friends, and a few coaches, but none of them pay attention to you. You go so fast that you miss whatever it is Tom scoops up from the bench and then proceeds to hold behind his back, keeping it out of your sight as he skates towards you. A frown finds your lips as you drift nearer, squinting your eyes.

“What’s that?” you ask, trying to make out the object.

Tom juts out his lower lip, eyes dancing teasingly. “Not gonna say hello, darling? That’s a bit rude, don’t you think?”

You shoot him a poisonous look but sigh when he just smirks in response.

“Hello,” you say. You skate forward, planting your hands on both of his cheeks and drawing him in close. Tom’s lips are warmer than yours, and you savour their firm press. When you pull back, you cross your arms over your chest. “What is it?”

“Close your eyes first.”

“Why?”

“Because I said so.”

Begrudgingly, you shut your eyes. You hear the rustling of plastic, and then smell the scent of fresh flowers. Tom presses a bouquet into your hands, and your lips twist up at the corners.

“You can open them now.”

It’s a bunch of roses, dark red and delicate. You trail a thumb over their petals, breath caught in the back of your throat. Your boyfriend continues to speak as he watches you.

“You said that no one had ever bought you flowers before,” he explains, voice steady. “I was going to save them for afterwards when you win, but I know you’ll end up being given about a thousand when they all see how talented they are, so I wanted to get in first.”

You look up at him, tears blurring your waterline.

“They’re beautiful, Tom,” you whisper. His confidence in you, and the support he shows you, every single day, means everything to you. He means everything to you. “I love them. I…” You look up, meeting his eyes as you finally speak the words that you’ve felt so strongly but kept tucked away in your heart for fear of rejection. You aren’t scared anymore. “I love you.”

Tom’s eyes widen, his lips briefly parting. There’s a heart-stopping moment when he betrays nothing, but then life twitches across his face. He relaxes, sinking forward to touch your waist as he pulls you closer and brings his lips to yours.

“I love you too, darling,” he says. He’s able to press his nose against yours now, and you feel his cold tip press to your face as you shift the bouquet into one hand and curl the other around his back. “I feel like the luckiest man in the world.”

You smile against him. “It was lucky, wasn’t it? That out of all the people on the rink that day, it was me you managed to crash into.”

Tom chuckles. “Felt less like luck at the time,” he admits. “I thought you were going to kill me.”

You smirk. “I was pretty mad. Can you blame me, though?”

“Nope.” Tom kisses the tip of your nose. “Worth it, anyway.” He surprises you by skating back, plucking the bouquet from your hand with ease before spinning you beneath his arm, cooing as the hem of your dress flutters in the air. “Did I ever tell you how much I love your outfit?” he adds. “You look like a princess.”

Your cheeks hurt, and when you stop spinning, you turn to face him.

“I feel like a princess,” you admit, accepting the flowers for the second time. “Does that make you my prince charming?”

Tom nods, smiling. “It’d be an honour.”

The air between you stills, and all that’s left is love.

“I’m nervous,” you admit, glancing down. “What if I fuck this up? What if I fall over? Or- or what if I don’t land a jump? What if my ankle can’t take it?” You gnaw on your lip. “Then it’ll all be over.”

Tom soothes you with a hand on your cheek. “You won’t fuck it up,” he says, voice confident. “You’re incredible, Y/N. You know the routine, and you know yourself. You’re ready for this.” He tilts his head to the side, eyes glinting warmly. “You’re going to go out there, smash it, then you’ll come back, and we’ll celebrate. Alright?”

You look down at the roses, then back to your boyfriend’s face, and you know that you believe him.

“Okay,” you agree. You bite your lip before darting up to kiss his cheek. “Love you, Tom.”

His eyes are full of adoration. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs. “I love you too.”

Tom presses his forehead to yours, and you relax there. With your fingers grasping the flowers and his hands caressing your waist, you let him support you. You let him kiss you, and hold you, and love you.

(And, later on, you let him hold your shiny gold medal, too.)

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧ *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

i hope you guys liked dutchy as much i liked writing him :’)) this has taken almost a month! if there’s any interest, maybe we could do a hockey!tom blurb night soon...? idk ! i’d be down. let me know if you’d be too <3 thanks so much for reading!!!! please let me know what ya think!

mlist and taglist can be found through the link in my bio!

[dystovian]

Birthday Candles

Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: At 12 AM, Peter becomes a year older. And since you had to learn about this through the lady at the front desk, you opt to making a surprise cake for him! And who else than to get help from none other than the Birthday Boy himself.

Warning(s): Fluff to Angst to Fluff! Post!No Way Home. Nervous!Insecure!Peter Parker

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Hello! It’s been who knows how long but I saw a prompt on Tiktok a day or two ago by @/yourdailywritingprompt and thought why not!

Prompt Rules: Write a scene between two characters who are making something.

1. They both have feelings for each other but haven’t TOLD each other yet.

2. Include a brief (NOT) moment of physical contact.

3. Have on of the characters say “I love you” without saying those words.

Peter Parker is nervous.

The same Peter Parker that is also a crime fighter. The same one who almost held together a ferry using his own raw strength. Who fought against Thanos, not once, but twice. He’s been beaten to the ground too many times to count. He’d even been shot once. And yet, he can’t even bring himself to knock on your door.

He pulls at his fingers and wrings them together, his palms are dribbled in sweat and he’s afraid to even bother wiping them against his jeans in fear of leaving a mark. He’s about a second away from tearing off his sweater when the elevator just ten feet away dings and out you walk.

“Oh! Hey, Peter! Have you been knocking? Sorry to keep you waiting.” You laugh a little to yourself, bundles of groceries hanging from your fingers and even up to your elbow, anything to make one trip. Peter reached out quickly to grab what he can. You smile gratefully and struggle to get to the key in your pocket and to the doorknob but you manage.

“It’s alright, I didn’t knock yet.” An awkward thing between a chuckle and a breath of air leaves past his lips. Trying to cover up his embarrassment to admitting that he just sat there at your door for who knows how long. When you say nothing, he almost sighs in relief and instead helps you to put away your groceries. He’s done this before with you, done things in absolute silence and without a word to the other. Assignments, projects, groceries, dishes, and more.

“Are we still making that cake? You know, that little one for your Dad?” He asks, breaking the silence as he reaches for the top shelf of a cabinet. When you shrug, and awkwardly wave your hands around, he assumes and takes it as a maybe.

“Well, he hasn’t called and told me if he’s actually visiting tomorrow or not. But, I think it’s a safe bet to just make the cake anyway, play it safe! Don’t really want to hear him complain about not having one, either.” The last of your speech is kept at a tight mumble, you loved your Father to the core, didn’t mean he was any less likely to complain all the time. You turn and toss a wink at him though, he’ll always know you’re not serious.

“Oh, Okay. Do you wanna start now? Later?” His questions are muffled as he crouched in front of the fridge, head practically inside and resting against the cold puffs of air to cool his red hot cheeks.

“Pete. You looking for something? You might as well become one with the fridge drawers.” You scoff half heartedly, and roll your eyes as affectionately as one could. He’s been weird ever since you stepped out of the elevator, but he’s also been an awkward guy, so you’ve elected to ignore it.

“Fine! Fine, just hot, is all.” He almost skims his head off a shelf when he first heard you speak, but he clears his throat and pats himself on the back for sounding so composed.

He wasn’t, really.

“Alright then… I could have just opened a window! Your decision, though.” You shrug, brushing off his shaky tone. And continue setting up the supplies needed to make today’s cake.

“‘Kay. I’m done. Oh, so we are starting now?” He peeks over your shoulder, seeing that you didn’t need to answer his earlier question, considering one side of the kitchens counters were covered in a plethora of ingredients, tubes, Tupperware, and who knows what else. Peter is no cook. Let alone a baker.

“Yup. Figured we could finish this up as soon as possible, and maybe get take-out? Watch a movie? I’ve been dying to watch that horror movie everyone’s been talking about.” You raise your brows at him, moving so that your hip rests against the counter top. He smiles at you, leaning against his lower back as well as crossing his arms across his chest.

“Aw, c’mon? The one where the girl basically get half ea-!” He’s stopped abruptly when you slap his shoulder in a movement of panic, eyes widened.

“I don’t know shit about it yet! Don’t spoil, sheesh.” You grumble and turn, grabbing some tubes and pipes and handing them to the man in front of you.

“I’m on icing duty?” He raises a brow, and is almost scared when you whip your head back towards him.

“Your… ‘duty’… is to fill the tubes, okay? You’ll be writing on the cake too since you’ve got the steadiest hands I’ve ever seen. Don’t complain, either, that’s the best part!” You offer a light shove against his bicep with your shoulder, and even throw him a kind smile which he gladly returns both gestures.

While he filled the piping tubes with colored icing, you waste no time in adding and mixing all needed ingredients. You were excited, not only were you spending time with your only friend in New York alone, but your Father will be visiting from Massachusetts in no less than 24 hours!

That’s what you’ve been telling Peter, at least.

Realistically, though, this entire plan has been made just three days ago.

When you had first been buzzed in by the older woman at the front desk — if you could call it that — she greeted you with her usual hug and a sway. You pulled back after a few seconds and ask how everything has been. She’s only legally owned the building a few years now, since her husband had passed. So you took to helping her out every now and then.

“Don’t worry about that, hon’. I’ve got it. You should be worrying about that Peter of yours.” You blushed, but blinked owlishly at her, scared that something was wrong, and maybe you hadn’t seen it.

“W-What? Did something happen?” You asked, hands coming to her forearm in mild fear. She chuckles, raising a brow at you as she shakes her head. You remind her of herself, and Peter is simply a younger version of her past lover. You two were perfect.

“Nothing. Yet. But his birthday, it’s in only four days! And last I checked, he doesn’t get a lot of visitors, he didn’t even have any emergency contacts on his apartment’s rental application. You better be here to celebrate with him.” She ‘tsks’ at you, pulling her arm from your firm grasp, and stepping towards her office door. You had put a hand to your mouth now, sad that it was so close from now, but disappointed Peter hadn’t brought it up.

Since you’d met he had been very closed off. He had his moments where he shared his colorful feelings towards fellow classmates and professors. But he never told you about things like family, friends, or even his birthday.

That leads you to today. August 9th, 8:30 PM. Approximately three hours and thirty minutes away until the clock strikes midnight, and Peter is another year older. You vowed to yourself a few days ago that you’d do something for him. And something told you he wasn’t fond of surprises. So you kept it small, and cute, and prayed to Thor himself this would work.

“Hey? You okay? I’ve been saying your name for forever now.” He drags out the last syllable and even laughs a little to himself. Your head turns to look at him with wide doe eyes, as if you’d been caught doing exactly what you were told not to.

“Sorry, what is it?” You shake your head and turn, taking a break for your aching arms for a second to stop your mixing, putting your full attention to Peter.

“Done!” He grins, and points at the filled tubes with a smug gleam in his chocolate eyes. You twitch, it’s a quick thing, but you have this weird feeling in your stomach urging your legs to move.

You want to hug him.

“Oh, well that’s great! If you want to sit down while I finish up, you can.” You smile nervously, hands squeezing each other just a bit too tightly as you whip back around, hiding the obvious embarrassment on your face from your favorite neighbor.

“No, I can’t make you do that alone. I gotta help, please?” His hands form a prayer as he pleads silently at your side now to help. You give him the side-eye, and a serious look, which doesn’t last long once you break and hand him the directions. You point and tap at what you want him to do, and explain how you’d like it done, he nods, barely looking at the directions, and finally goes on with it.

Before you know it, the batter is poured and ready to be baked in the oven. Peter insists he does this part, large Hello Kitty oven mitts on his hands, and your Mother’s old 90’s ‘Kiss the Chef’ Apron wrapped loosely around his neck and waist. He almost giggles when you have to re-tie it as it almost falls forward onto the ovens door.

“Okay, and now we wait.” You clap, and pat yourself on the back with pride. So far, your plan hasn’t been thwarted! Something that usually happened in the past, plans of yours never seemed to work out the way you’d hope, either being called out on too early, or just falling apart all together. But, this was looking promising, Peter wouldn’t question making a cake for your Father, and unbeknownst to you, he’d never turn this down.

The oven lets out a tune of beeps, and you smile as he runs in to pull it out, rests it on the counter top, and lets it cool. When your timer goes off after an hour and a half, your in your aprons in no time, too giddy to be doing this together, like children.

“Your highness.” You bestow upon him the first step to finishing the cake, which he gladly takes with a bow of his own. When he turns to you, with slight confusion, he asks what should be written.

“Oh! Duh. Okay, Start with just a ‘Happy Birthday’ in cursive. I want to do the Dad part!” You nod, slightly nervous with your tone, but if Pete noticed, he says nothing. Just nods and smiles, like always, and starts. You weren’t lying earlier when you told him he had an incredibly steady hand, yet your still shocked just how smoothly he does this. Even the cursive is perfect, he’s just wonderful.

“Okay. How’s that? I think I messed up a bit at the ‘irth’ part, but no going back, so…” He trails off, eyeing his work, before handing you the piping bag. You take it shakily, and attempt at shielding the cake from Peters view before you roughly pipe in his name. You stop though, turn, and animatedly shoo him from the kitchen like a dog.

“Woah, okay, I’ll go. Performance anxiety?” He laughs awkwardly, a little confused but just assumes you’re afraid you’ll mess up. He leaves quickly, shooting you a playful glare before disappearing to the couch. Your shoulders drop in relief as you take a quick deep breath, and finally steady your hand as much as possible, taking some time to write down the name of the man that has changed you for the better. Anything to make it perfect.

“Pete! M’done! Just gonna clean everything else up and then you can come check it out!” You call to him, and stay silent until you hear his confirmation back. You look at the clock, and realize you’ve got about fifteen minutes to take your sweet time cleaning up before you call him in. You do just that, go as slow as possible, and are surprised when Peter doesn’t seem to notice. Maybe too lost in whatever he’s watching on TV, you don’t care, as long as he stays in the other room.

When you finish, wash your hands quickly, and call out to Peter, you’re a little stunned when you don’t hear him respond, and even more so when he doesn’t appear in the kitchen after a minute. So you tiptoe to the door, and your shocked at the sight of him.

He’s sprawled on his side, body sunken comfortably into the sofa, with a pillow under his head and one hugged to his chest. You almost cry. He’s so calm and relaxed and you know he needs the rest, but you think maybe he can get it after this.

“Hey, Petey, can you wake up for me?” You don’t flinch when he wakes startled, eyes wide and blinking quickly as he tries to figure out if there’s danger. When he realizes there isn’t any, he relaxes softly and throws an arm over his eyes.

“You scared me. Thought something was wrong!” He laughs to himself for a few seconds. Expecting you to tell him why you woke him up, or to apologize. But nothing’s said, he gulps, and is somewhat nervous now, he’s not sure why, but he’s a bit scared to move his arm too.

“Peter.” You whisper softly, and he gets a look at you— hair and silhouette haloed by the large flat screen just behind you, a hand grips the edge of the coffee table that you sit on, with your other hand balancing the cake, candles already stuck in it.

“Little early for the candles, huh?” He sits up now, rubbing the sleep from his eyes quickly before blinking at your strangely encouraging smile. You were acting funny.

“Peter.”

“Mm?” He almost yawns.

“Happy Birthday.” You grin, the hand on the edge of the coffee table comes up to help lower the cake and show him, and his jaw almost drops at the shaky ‘Peter Parker’ written in what could only be described as tame chicken scratch in the same spot where it should say Dad.

Peter Parker is a loser.

Since he’s met you, it’s like he’s developed a rare form of asthma, like you suck up all the air around him and he can barely breathe. Or, maybe he’s allergic to you, he’s always stuttering, and his cheeks and nose go so red, and don’t get him started on the sweaty palms. Yet, he stills comes around. He stops by your place at least three times a week. Sometimes even to see how you were doing, and turning around and quickly entering his own apartment, alone.

Peter has actually saved the world. He’s swinging through the streets of New York City almost every night, and webbing up and knocking out robbers and criminals like it’s nothing. And now, he’s about to start crying in front of you, and he’s terrified he won’t be able to stop.

“You…” He’s staring at the cake, at the unlit candles, and then into your eyes as you bring up a lighter to set them. The flames flicker from the deft silver lighter in your hand, and light the wax wick of the twisted red candles.

“Uhm. Mrs. Ricci told me a few days ago at the front doors. I was a little sad you didn’t tell me, but, I figured there was a reason. So I thought I’d do a small surprise, and we could have the cake together, maybe a sleepover?” You eventually turn your words into a rant, but he’s still staring and blinking. He’s yet to realized you’ve stopped until you clear your throat.

“Mrs. Ricci, told you?” He gulps, ignoring almost everything after that. You nod, and furrow your brows, you’re nervous now. Scared you crossed some unspoken boundaries.

“I..I’m so sorry. I had a feeling you didn’t like surprises but I figured this would be okay! Oh gosh, okay this is embarrassing, look, keep the cake-“

“Stop. No, it’s okay. I’m just..” His eyes are watering, and you finally take a good look at him, face dropping at the shine in his eyes due to the flashing bright television behind you. You blow out the candles quickly, before placing the cake beside you in concern. Hands reaching out gently to hold his hands on his knees.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, so gentle that the tears start to fall, landing upon his shirt as he blinks and blinks at you. Face and eyes scrunched up in what you could only guess was pain.

“It’s nothing. Nothing.” He gets it out, barely, before he feels you stand, dropping his hands. He’s disappointed for a second, scared he ran you out. You were going to leave, cause he was a loser.

“Oh, Pete.” You breathe, and step forward between his knees, arms reaching down to squeeze his shoulders. He wastes no time in burying his face in your stomach, letting everything out from the past year and a half of living here.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to be sad I didn’t tell you. I just haven’t celebrated it in a while. I didn’t know if you’d want to know.” His voice is breaking, and stomping all over your heart.

“Of course I’d want to, Peter. You’re my best friend! It doesn’t matter anyway, it wasn’t anything I couldn’t get over! It’s your choice at the end of the day, and I’m happy to celebrate it with you now.” His heart pumps faster when he hears you call him your best friend.

“Thank you.” He mumbles, muffled by the fabric of your graphic tee.

“No worries. Ready for the candles?” You ask, pulling back and smiling as he looks up at you, hands coming to rest on the sides of his face. He nods, hands trying to stay stuck to you as long as possible as you sit back down and re light the candles.

“No singing.” He murmurs, which elicited a sharp laugh from you. You weren’t laughing at him by any means, you just thought it was cute and endearing.

“Okay, okay.” You smile widely, ear to ear sincerely. “Happy Birthday, Peter Parker.”

The candles are blown out. And the second you place the cake back down and begin to clap as silently as possible (for the sake of your neighbors), Peter leans forward and hugs you this time. Arms wrapping tightly around your back, where his fingers rub circles into your sides.

“Can we sleep, eat this in the morning?” He asks, eyes closed as he takes in what will now be one of his favorite memories. You hug back, nod, and slide your hand over the back of his head and over his hair. Butterflies flutter and crash into each other in his stomach, and he’s sure he might pass away right then and there.

He goes into your room and sets up his blankets on the floor, opting to sleep in your room tonight instead of the couch like usual. But when you return, standing in the doorway with a fond smile upon your lips, he stares.

He’s sure the butterflies are about to burst from him when you grab his hand and lead him to bed. There, the both of you fall asleep on your sides, staring at each other.

Maybe he could learn to like his birthday again.

[dayfalwastaken]

Ooh, this is such a neat idea! And one that would actually be pretty feasible within ATSAT. I could either see the Big Man growing bored and doing this, ignoring his own rules of not interfering👀, then erasing everything since he’s, you know, God, or, the more plausible option, Shadow Freddy being like “screw it” and ruining everything just because he can.

Either way, Matt is screwed. Just thinking about it, I can almost see people like Evan and Mike having an existential crisis, Henry either being very angry at William or just refusing to accept this as true, Cassidy feeling a bit betrayed, the kids disturbed by their own deaths, and everyone having to come to terms with ghosts, possessions and sentient robots. Just pure chaos and confusion.

I imagine the parents would gang up on Willy and end him right there, with Mari leading the charge. Speaking of the Puppet, I really don’t think it’d care that it was a video game character, since it already considers itself an object, as sad as that is. Poor Matt would have a terrible time assuring the rest of them that they’re real and not fictional and all of that. That kind of shock would break a lot of people in any case.

William himself would have a mental breakdown, I think, since this would reaffirm to him how meaningless lives are, again, only this time his own life is just as meaningless like the others, in his mind. He’d be something like “Oh no, my fate is destined! Nothing I do matters, why am I alive? What does this mean?” On the upside, he’d also be amazed by the technology from Matthew’s world, so there’s that. Although, he would quickly start hating Matt since he’s the reason William wouldn’t kill the kids and all, while also feeling a bit disappointed since he had the half right/wrongful impression that Matt was like him; different from the others.

Okay, let’s see. First image has Mari, obviously, and uh… Charlie I think? Or no, wait… Okay, moving on XD, the angry eyes are Cassidy’s I’m pretty sure, Glasses is Henry and crying I think is Evan. I hope I got most of them right😅.

The second scenario would most likely be tamer than the first. Less existential dread and more confusion. Also rage for William being a piece of filth. Once they all see the children’s deaths I wouldn’t give William more than a few minutes before he’s beaten to death. Even with the kids there, it’s pretty hard to imagine so many parents keeping their cool once they start seeing just how much torture their sons and daughters have been through. Mari would be the first to attack, then probably Cassidy and it wouldn’t be too unlikely to see Laura also joining in on making her scumbag of a husband pay. Though some of the more unreasonable parents would be mad at her too, just for being his wife.

Honestly, there’s really no way for William to make it out alive. The children would be plenty traumatized so some of the people there would reason what is one more death? Especially if it’s Willy’s? Though of course, many parents would also try to shield their kids away from the carnage, to zero degrees of success… Yeah, I don’t think Shadow Freddy would allow anyone to not see their own deaths and everything. They’re all coming out scared for life afterwards, sadly.

Matt meanwhile would just ponder what the hell is going on, and would then join in on beating William. After that, there’d be a ton of questions, comforting from the ever-kind Puppet and parents, and just a bunch of madness… Then the Big Man would be like “Psyche!” and erase it back to normal, or Shadow Freddy would end the whole thing and laugh his ass off, finally strong enough to do anything he’d like. Now that’s a scary thought…

So… I ABSOLUTELY LOVED THIS!!! The fanart was so cool, and it’s given me a ton to chew on, so thank you for this thought exercise, and for the great art! I’ll be sure to save it in my special folder with the others.

The sort of director chair Matt is sitting on and the little Security Puppet mask, the eyes, the memes- it’s so good! Thank you kindly for everything! It was night when I saw this submission, and that was such a nice way to end the day. Thank you! Hope you’re having a great day as well!

Okay so I thought myself..what if something happens that is like ya know those “characters watch theyre future/show/movie” fanfics?…okay what if that happens to everyone in “All the stories are true” fanfic? The Aftons,the puppet,the Emily’s,the missing kids and some of they’re parents and the bullies and a few future important employees like phoneguy! … chaos

So I hope you enjoy my family art of this..well this is deff a au! Well a au with two routes bc I couldn’t decide..the first one is well..

All Eyes on you

Basically it shows the fanfic in a movie way along with everyone’s thoughts that appear on the chapters..and a few lil details like Matthews life and the canon Fnaf lore..where he isn’t in it..OPSIE

So yeah..others would notice..well those who Matthew told the “truth” to. Can you guess who’s looking at him?~

and here is the second route!A bit memey

The others View..

Basically the same with the fanfic and Fnaf lore..except for Matthew being inserted into the lore and it shows his backstory that he told Cassidy..yeah his death was brutal and apparently he was very traumatized..Mathew doesn’t know what to do but agree and say that’s what happend to him..even though he’s confused and disturbed.meanwhile the others are..incredibly concerned if Matthews actually okay..and his plans..

Hope your having a great day ^^

[teyvatdreams]

Hi Dani! May I request some blurbs for Kaeya, Beidou, Albedo, and Jean (separately) having an s/o who, despite having a heart of gold, doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together? They forget/lose things, ask obvious questions, or just sort of do things without thinking. They’re kind and brave and all that, they’re just kind of square-brained a lot of the time. Thanks, and have a lovely day!

i have no idea what to title this but i loved this idea

includes: kaeya, beidou, albedo, and jean

kaeya

tbh kaeya loves your… not-so-bright moments

he honestly finds them adorable

especially because when he first met you, he thought your personality was more on the serious side

he couldn’t be more wrong

whenever you’re having a moment he just sits back and enjoys the show, watching as you figure out your own problem

“wait!” you yell, stopping in your tracks.

kaeya does the same and turns to look at you. “what? you okay?”

“yeah, i just… i forgot my map.” you sigh, shoulders dropping in defeat. “i told you i would bring it and i forgot! we can’t go on this mission without it or we’ll be completely lost,” you explain.

a grin appears on kaeya’s face, and he crosses his arms. “are you sure?”

you furrow your eyebrows. “of course i’m sure! if i had it with me, i’d be looking at it right now!”

“do you remember right before we left when we stopped to talk to bennett?” kaeya asks.

you pause to think. “yeah… but what does that have to do with my map?”

“retrace your steps, love.”

you and kaeya were headings towards the entrance gates when you were stopped by the young adventurer, asking where you guys were going. you told him where, and let him join until he was pulled aside by another adventurer. he was told that some if the older guys were having arthritis problems again, so you and kaeya left without him.

“i still don’t… oh!” you reached into your back pocket and retrieved your map. “got it!”

beidou

tbh she doesn’t really notice if you ask obvious questions or ask her if she’s seen the book you’re holding in her hands

she finds it kind of endearing

and she doesn’t blame you for getting confused easily, you’re a very busy person after all

you’re so busy all the time she’s impressed you can even keep your head on straight

it wasn’t until you joined her on her ship that she started to think you didn’t have it on straight

beidou was more than excited to bring you onto her ship and introduce you to her crew. she just wasn’t really expecting to have to babysit you the whole time.

“do you guys have fishing rods? i can try to catch a fish for dinner!” you say excitedly, looking out to the sea.

“what? no,” beidou steps closer to you. “you can’t fish while we’re moving. you won’t catch anything.” she says, putting an arm around you. “i appreciate the sentiment though.”

later, when a storm started to brew, she had to drag you off the deck.

“no, let me stay!” you whine, trying to pull your hand out of her grasp. “someone has to look after the ship!”

“yeah, the people qualified for the job can do that, babe. i don’t need you getting struck by lightning…” she sighs.

she might be more aware of your silly questions not that it involves her area of expertise, but she’ll glare at anyone who looks at you funny.

“woah… are you gonna make him walk the plank?” you ask beidou after she practically shoots daggers at a crewmate with her eyes.

“the plank? no, that’s just a myth. there’s no plank walking here,” beidou replies, laughing.

albedo

don’t get him wrong

he absolutely loves you

but having you in his lab makes him a nervous wreck

he trusts your judgement for the most part

but his experiments are very tedious

and tedious is not really your forte

“oh, so i just pour this in here, right?” you ask, tilting a vial.

“n-no!” albedo, panicked, grabs it to stop the liquid from pouring out. “not this one. this one,” he says, giving you a different vial with blue liquid in it.

“right, right…” you say.

“pour it slowly—“ albedo sighs as you dump the liquid into the container in front of you.

you look at him, and then back down at the liquid. “sorry.”

he smiles. “it’s fine. nothing exploded, right? so we’re okay.”

you bite your lip, thinking. you set down the vial. “maybe this is better as a one-man-job,” you tell him with a sigh. “i think i’m doing more harm than good here.”

“no, no, no,” albedo grabs your hand. “it’s fine. you’re doing great! you just need to… uh, listen… a bit more. i’m just worried for your safety,” he says.

“right… i should pay more attention. this stuff is serious.” you grab the vial you were holding before. “is it time to add this one yet?”

albedo smiles. “unfortunately, no. that one isn’t even being added to this concoction.”

jean

jean loves and respects you very much

but whenever you go out adventuring

here anxiety skyrockets

she know you’re strong but

acting without thinking is a big problem of yours

so you usually arrive back home hurt every time

although to you, it isn’t that big of a deal

she was returning to her office after practically being dragged to the church to get treated for a headache that had lasted days when she saw you making your way there yourself, covered in scratches and bruises.

“oh my god! what happened?” she asks, putting her hands on your shoulders. “are you okay?”

you grin. “oh, i’m fine! don’t worry about me, jean.”

“but you’re all… beaten up! i shouldn’t keep you here… you should go get patched up.” she says.

“jean, really, i’m fine!” you tell her, grabbing her hand to keep her from walking away. “i’m just coming here so people don’t yell at me to get treated… it doesn’t hurt.”

“are you sure? you’re gonna be so sore tomorrow,” she points out.

“mmm, probably,” you say with a shrug. “but at least there is a tomorrow, right?”

her gaze finally softens. “alright. but… i do want to stay with you while you get bandaged up.”

[rayshippouuchiha]

Yamada: so how did you and izuku start dating

Aizawa: I saw him crush a watermelon with his thighs and I accidentally said out loud “oh god I wish that were me right now” and here we are now

~The way this immediately and completely ate my entire brain~

Of three things Aizawa Shouta is absolutely sure:

One, he simply was not built for operating during the daylight hours. Nighttime really is where it's at in his opinion. The general lack of crowds and eye-searing sunlight just can't be beaten. (Dusk and dawn hours also get a pass but they're both on thin ice.)

Two, the beach is a sandy hell-scape whose only redeeming factor is the convenient access it provides to the eldritch horror that is the ocean aka the place he'll doubtlessly end up drowning himself when he finally, and according to Hizashi inevitably, snaps and runs gibbering mad into the abyss.

And three, he's absolutely and irrevocably cursed. He's being singled out and punished from on high by the gods themselves. His name is writ large across the cosmos in mockery. There is a cosmic "kick me" sign taped to his spiritual back and Shouta's going to hunt his former student Sero down and give him detention for life for encouraging his family's patron god to put it there.

By this point it's really the only logical explanation.

Which, as a card-carrying atheist, he's pretty sure is saying something about the depth of his feelings regarding his current circumstances.

Because there's no other explanation for why or how he's managed to find himself in this current situation.

The situation being, of course, Shouta, in full hero gear, standing in the hot sun on a pristine sandy beach, surrounded by screaming fans as he provides extra security and crowd control for the 20th Annual Heroic Sukiwari Charity Drive.

Shouta has seen hell and it is both Ms. Joke's open mic night and this exact moment right here.

Because, again, he's absolutely 100% cursed.

And the avatar of said curse is, obviously, his soon-to-be ex-best friend who somehow roped him into this entire thing.

Because some people say divine retribution when talking about cosmic revenge plots but Shouta tends to just says Yamada Hizashi. The two are, in many ways, interchangeable.

Shouta's going to put purify salts in all of Hizashi's hair products and also his sugar jar and possibly his energy drinks the next chance he gets.

Because if he never sees another shirtless pro-hero or another watermelon again in his life it'll be too soon.

He's pretty sure he has permanent hearing damage from all of the screaming and screeching the crowd's been doing since this thing started.

And if, after all these years of friendship with the personification of a megaphone, watching a bunch of pro's crush watermelons with nothing but their personal strength on a beach to raise money for various charities is what finally destroys his hearing Shouta is going to shave Hizashi bald before he finally embraces sweet death.

Or enacts Nezu's birthday plans and becomes a supervillain.

The jury's honestly still out at this point.

Shouta does his best to shut out the screaming behind him as one of the cameramen slides up beside him, getting a better angle on the stage as Hizashi, who's currently screeching about Miruko's performance, practically dances across the sand in front of where Shouta's standing.

"Wow, wow, wow," Present Mic chants as he dramatically fans himself, "that was one on heart-stopping, hare-raising show. Let's give it up for everyone's favorite bad, bad, bunny, Miruko!"

For her part, Miruko just struts off the small stage with a nonchalant wave to the crowd, her tiny white bikini in place and the pulverized remains of the half dozen watermelons she'd dropped kicked into soup left behind her.

"But don't lose that rhythm yet listeners," Mic announces gleefully. "Because we've got one more hero set to take the stage! So, without further ado, it's the moment I know a lot of you have been waiting for, myself included if we're being honest. The pièce de résistance of our little shindig, the showstopper himself, the one, the only, the #1 Can Do Hero Dekiru."

The crowd is absolutely deafening.

And, for once, Shouta has to grudgingly admit that he can't actually blame them.

Shirtless, sculpted shoulders and tight abs on display thanks to his low sitting and almost criminally short green swim shorts, and with his trademark bashful smile in place, Dekiru trots out from behind the curtained-off area with a crate of watermelons resting on his shoulder like it's no big deal.

Shouta's pretty sure someone to his immediate right faints but considering they're not currently a trample risk he ignores it.

But the casual show of strength with no quirk use in sight is more than a bit impressive.

For all that people, romance specifically, and attraction in general, have all been things to be considered on a firm case-by-case basis for Shouta, even he has to admit that Dekiru is ... captivating.

Rather drastically so for Shouta considering he's never actually met the man before in person.

Though Shouta does feel like he almost knows him on some level considering the fact that it really would take an act of the actual gods to get Yagi to shut up about his erstwhile protege during staff meetings.

Dekiru waves his free hand at the crowd as he sets his crate of watermelons down on the stage.

"Show us what you've got!" Mic demands from a few feet to Shouta's left. "And let's give him some encouragement listeners!"

The crowd starts up a loud and steady chant of "De~ki~ru!" as the hero pulls his first watermelon out and begins his set.

With an effortless flex of muscles, Dekiru digs his fingers into the watermelon and wrenches it completely in two.

Shouta reaches up to tug at the top of his uniform, relishing the small sip of cool air it grants him.

Shoulders and biceps flexing, another watermelon meets its end between Dekiru's palms.

Shouta really needs to add a water bottle to his utility belt because hydration is important. Or so he's been repeatedly told.

"Those hands, those muscles," Mic groans dramatically. "He really is the Can Do Hero!"

Cheeks noticeably flushed, Dekiru sits down on the stage and fits a watermelon between thick, toned thighs.

His hips twist, those thighs flex, and the watermelon cracks, spilling juice and sweet pink flesh all over Dekiru's lap.

"Oh god," Shouta can't help but say, "I wish that was me right now."

On stage Dekiru's eyes go wide as his attention somehow abruptly zero's in on Shouta.

It's at that moment that Shouta becomes aware of the deafening silence that's fallen over the beach.

Head-turning agonizingly slowly to the left, Shouta's confronted with the sight of Mic, microphone in hand, standing shoulder to shoulder with him.

His sunglasses are askew and he's staring at Shouta with a look on his face that's one part horror and one part unholy glee.

As a matter of fact, the entire beach is staring at him in much the same way.

For a moment Shouta just freezes, body going still at having so much attention turned in his direction.

This ... was not the turn he was expecting the day to take by far.

His first instinct is to, honestly, use his scarf to slingshot himself directly into the sun so his soul can be cleansed with cosmic fire.

But then ...

"Ah," Dekiru speaks up from on the stage, one hand ruffling the back of his hair and cheeks darker than before, "maybe we could go on a date first though? If you'd like?"

There's suddenly a part of Shouta that doesn't actually want to delete himself from existence via self-immolation.

And there's an even large part that doesn't want to outright reject Dekiru's seemingly sincere offer.

Because, when it all comes down to it, Dekiru seems to be, by all accounts, what passes for exactly Shouta's type.

Whip-smart if his very public arrest record and tendency to argue online and on the air with people he disagrees with is anything to go by.

Cute, with that dark green hair and sharp undercut, matching wide eyes, and a face sprinkled liberally with freckles.

Leanly built and small enough that Shouta's sure he could move him around easily but obviously muscular enough to be able to put up just the right amount of resistance in the right situation.

And, above all else, if the stories are to be believed, obviously some degree of batshit insane.

More than one story Yagi had told during breaks had Shouta questioning if the man had imported special American demons back to Japan and then stuffed them all into the deceptively charming and approachable-looking hero that is Dekiru.

So there's really only one logical way to proceed forward in this situation.

Shouta grins.

Several people in the crowd around him step back.

He's pretty sure he hears someone start reciting a prayer.

But Dekiru just blushes, eyes locked on Shouta's and teeth tugging at his lower lip.

"Hope you like coffee," Shouta finally says into the breathless silence that's fallen over them, "and cats."

Dekiru lights up, a smile brighter than the sun and twice as deadly blossoming across his face.

Just off of Shouta's side, Hizashi's busy having some kind of hysterical seizure.

Around them the crowd is going absolutely feral.

Yagi's going to birth actual kittens in the middle of the staff room when he finds out about this.

Shouta can't wait.

[misschifuyu]

i saw ypu koko & smiley as your boyfriend and I loved it :)

Can please ask some boyfriend hcs for ran,angry and rindou? Thank you

- im so glad you liked them bby !! here are some more hcs for the boys ♡

Ran, Angry and Rindou boyfriend headcanons

genre: fluff

warnings: none

Ran

oh, ran

right off the bat, everyone is going to know you're dating. and it won't be because he goes around showing off the fact

it will simply by the way he acts around you

firstly, he's a fan of pda and completely shameless about it. some members get into a pretty vicious fight? he'll swing his arm around you whilst he watches, unbothered. middle of a meeting? he will wrap his arms around your smaller form and rest his head on top of yours

izana will undoubtedly get tired of this guy's apparent need to be in constant contact with you. sure, couples could be cute together, but it's not frequent to see them share a loving hug after one of the two had just beaten a man to the ground

just seemed a little out of place, surely it could wait-

he loves you, though, and he isn't going to let some stereotypical image of a delinquent deprive him of time spent with you

another thing that will automatically lead someone to believe the two of you are partners is the way he will stand near you

of course, his regular stance is anything but inviting, but the way he will stare down - since this man is a literal giant - at anyone who even remotely posed a threat will be enough to make them change their mind about being near the two of you

he knew the life of a gang member was anything but a safe one. he was more than able to protect himself; what scared him was you.

ran, despite his tough act, has a constant fear of losing you because of the stupid situations both he and his brother get themselves into

it wasn't that he deemed you weak, it was more so that he knew how strong some of the men could be

the last thing he wanted to find was his s/o injured - or even worse - because of someone who was trying to get back at him

it was the reason as to why he will spend as much time as he could with you. of course, he understands personal space, but you would also have plenty of that whenever he got involved with any serious fights

he never let you go to those, of course

whenever you both have free time, he will make it up to you however you pleased. casual dates are his favourites, not having any specific plans, just simply going out or staying at home with you

more times than not, he will accidentally stay over for the night as he would fall asleep from the tiresome day on your lap. but you always have space for one more to sleep in, so it was never a problem

Angry (Souta)

the baby of the twins

you would meet his brother before him and it would take you quite a bit to get used to his...angry ways

he isn't an aggressive person, but the first impression you had gotten of him was certainly not one of showing extreme friendliness. but once you got to know him, it was quite obvious that you had found someone you liked spending time with

he's a very compassionate person. constantly looking out for others, he hadn't realised how much he appreciated receiving the same care from another. it's the reason as to why he adores your presence

unless one were to specifically ask if he had a partner, it isn't very obvious that the two of you are dating. you spent time together, but it was usually when you were alone, since the other members would be around otherwise

that wasn't a problem, far from it, but it would mean that he would be much more reserved with you. he loved your soft kisses on his cheeks, but he would only get flustered if you were to do so in front of anyone. souta's a shy baby.

so much so that his brother would sometimes ask how the two of you are doing, judging by the fact that the two of you acted like childhood friends whenever you hung out with him

you'd reassure him, though, that everything was going smoothly

souta would treat you with such kindness that, sometimes, you'd wonder if this was even the same guy you had come across on the day you met him

he'd never verbally ask for it, but the way he'd sit patiently on your bed whenever he came over, watching you do errands here and there, was an obvious invitation for you to cradle his face in your hands and give him a soft peck on his nose

he's a sucker for hugs, no doubt

sit him down in front of the television with a movie and blankets and he will be the most content angry ever

dates will be very similar, in all honesty. of course, he enjoyed going out to get ice cream every now and then, but he'd be cautious about bumping into another member and seeing him break his facade

no matter how many times you try and convince him, he won't drop the furrowed brows and intimidating expression when around others

but, you were happy enough with just seeing his softer side behind closed doors

Rindou

yet another baby of the family

this is a stubborn one. rindou isn't a fan of having a weak spot for anyone, and will be very wary when it comes to meeting new people

luckily, when he first encountered you, your demeanour had been anything but menacing or even intimidating. hell, you were more scared of him in that moment, knowing full well who the haitani brothers were

so, right from the start, he considered you someone with the possibility of gaining his trust. just maybe...especially with that face that he couldn't help but admit was nice to look at.

his brother was the one to actually set the two of you up, fed up the time his sibling was taking in just getting it over and done with

and so, you started dating rindou haitani

tagging along in anything related to tenjiku was off the board until he knew that nothing would happen to you. he still didn't fully trust the scums that were the other members, and considered it best for you to remain in safety

you knew his brother already, and that was more than enough when it came to the gang

this simply meant that, when a little message appeared on your phone screen saying 'are you free for the rest of the day', you were always overjoyed

granted, he'd usually turn up at your place absolutely exhausted on some occasions, especially if it was late at night. you didn't mind, though, it was a perfect excuse to pamper him after a long day

he wouldn't admit it, but whenever you did these little routines on him, fluffy headbands and slippers included, he quite enjoyed it. his heart would swell just a little at the way you would take care of him

other times he'd come over would simply consist in him being greeted with a warm hug, before being suggested to go somewhere to eat or have a snack together

he wasn't really worried about being seen around town with you, so he would usually agree to it. his favourite place to go were cafés, sitting down with you and enjoying a peaceful afternoon

as far as pda goes, it's pretty much inexistent with him

however, once he crashes at your place, he is open to anything: laying on top of him as you watched something together, cuddling on the couch, even spooning.

he's just very deprived when it comes to physical affection, so be sure to give him all the love whenever he comes over

[diaryofabeautyfiend]

Strange Mercy

⛔️ m/f sex, squirting, Steve gets punched, ⛔️

Three weeks before the wedding….

Steve returned home after your trip feeling conflicted. He absolutely had feelings for Kim. Loving feelings. She would be a good companion. A stable home. A white picket fence with 2.5 perfect children and a golden retriever.

What he felt for you and Bucky was primal. His body craved the two of you. You were a drug running through his veins that he had no plans on quitting. He began making a mental pro/con list in a meager attempt to make a decision.

Kim was already home when he got there. He threw his bag down in the bedroom and sought out his intended. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him down for a kiss which he limited to a sweet peck. He could still smell your pussy on his mustache so he didn’t want her to linger.

“Mmm. You smell good. Where was this mission exactly? You smell like flowers.” He sniffed his shirt and inhaled deeply. The aroma of rich jasmine enveloped his brain and made his cock twitch.

“It was the only detergent at the laundromat.” Good save. “Are you cooking? I’m exhausted. I might just eat and pass out.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, “It’ll be ready in a bit. Are you ok? Normally when you get home you are all over me.”

“Just tired. I’m gonna jump in the shower.”

His behavior was definitely strange. He usually wanted to fuck as soon as he walked in the door. When she thought about it, he hasn’t really been interested in her sexually for a few months now. She thought therapy was working.

While Steve was in the shower she decided to go investigate. His bag reeked of “laundry detergent”. She found no tactical suit or any of his usual gear. Nothing smelled like blood or gunpowder, only flowers. All of his clothes were neatly folded. Looked almost professional. As she threw stuff in the hamper she found some interesting items. Why did he need a swimsuit? Why did he have sunscreen and oh my god! Who’s panties were these?

Kim was not one to play. She snatched them out of the bag and gingerly opened the bathroom door. Or at least she tried. He locked it. He never locked the door. Good thing he did because he was jerking off.

She sat on the bed and waited for him to come out. He opened the door and didn’t immediately notice her. She noted the bruises (which weren’t out of the ordinary) but the bite marks were new.

“What the fuck are these?” Her sudden intrusion scared the wits out of him.

“They look like panties. They’re a little slutty for you though.”

“They’re not mine.” Too slutty for her? She could rock a black lacy g string if she wanted.

“Then whose panties are they?” He knew good and well who they belonged to. He took them so he could wrap them around his dick while Kim was at work.

“I found them in your bag, prick. They were wrapped in a shirt.” She was starting to tear up. “We’re getting married in three weeks, Stevie. If you don’t want to go through with this…”

“Hey hey. None of that. Is someone a little nervous about the wedding? They’re probably Nat’s. I’m sure I picked them up by mistake.”

Her face noticeably softened. And she bought it. “Oh my goodness, babe. I’m so sorry. I completely overreacted.”

“It’s ok. I would have been upset too. Is something burning?”

All night Kim stared at his sleeping too comfortably self. He was a fucking liar. She was sure they were Nat’s panties. She had long suspected they had a thing. She would just have to confront Nat. She wasn’t afraid of Black Widow.

The next morning she found Nat in the kitchen at Stark Tower. “Steve grabbed these by mistake. You know? On your mission.”

“Oh shit. I thought I left these in the room. Thanks.”

She got in Nat’s face a little which was so not smart. “Look, I know you and I are only friends because of Steve but whatever is going on here ends now. He’s my man. Got it?”

She was lucky Nat was so amused because she would have been beaten to death otherwise. “Got it.” It was hard to hide her smirk. Once the coast was clear, Nat went to Steve’s office.

“Hey, loverboy. Didn’t know things got so hot between us on our last mission.” She was dangling your panties from her finger. “Your wife thinks we’re having an affair by the way. She got in my face. Brave little thing. I have a sneaking suspicion she’s never been punched before.”

“Jesus. I’m sorry. I should have warned you.”

“How was your trip?” She stood behind Steve rubbing his temples. If Kim walked in right now she would have gone ballistic.

“Amazing. Wish we could have gotten lost there.”

“You know you don’t have to do this right? Stop treating Kim like an obligation. If you want to be with Bucky and Y/N you should do that. Let your freak flag fly, dude. But you better control your woman before I lay her out.”

He rested his head on his desk and burst into tears. What would he lose if he broke things off with Kim? In his heart he knew his life wouldn’t really change if he walked out on her. If he went through with this, he would lose the two of you forever. At least in the romantic sense. He couldn’t stand watching the two of you together. What if you did get married and have your babies? He would grin and bear it but it would kill him. He had to see you. He dialed your number but it went right to voicemail. He checked Bucky’s location and saw that he was at your place. Of course. He would just have to go over.

He hadn’t realized it was still pretty early when he knocked. Bucky answered bleary eyed in his boxers. He looked Steve up and down and grumbled while he shuffled to the kitchen.

“Baby still sleeping?” He pressed his chest to Bucky’s back and spoke softly in his ear. “Can I go wake her?”

“She’s not here. Had a job last night. Texted about 10:00 to say she wasn’t coming home. She’ll turn up.” The thought of that made Steve nauseous. He forgets what you do sometimes. He knew you made insane money doing it but he wished you’d stop. He added your job as a con on his list. Possibly a deal breaker.

“Do you know who she was seeing?”

“No. That’s not my business.”

“But she could be in trouble.”

“She’s not. She can take care of herself.”

Exasperated Steve threw up his hands, “Are you ok with her doing this?! Don’t you want her to stop?”

“No. It’s her work. She’ll stop when she’s ready. Look, I don’t judge what she does. When we first met I was a brainwashed super assassin and she fell in love with me anyway. This is what she does. I know she keeps herself safe.”

“But could you marry her if she kept doing this?”

“Me, Stevie or are you trying to find out that answer for yourself? Because I ask her to be my wife every day and she turns me down. She doesn’t think she deserves love. That’s why I spend every day that I’m with her telling her how much I love her. Can you get passed her life choices?”

He really didn’t know the answer. Kim’s column was winning at the moment. He almost left but heard you coming in the door. You had your heels in your hand and some fresh blood on your legs and arms. There was a cigar burn on your thigh that you covered with your dress when you saw Steve’s face.

“Morning, boys.” You kissed Bucky as he handed you a cup of coffee. How perfectly domestic. He lifted you onto the counter and grabbed the first aid kit.

Steve watched as Bucky lovingly dressed your wounds. “….does that hurt?” He made that joke every time. You laughed, “you’re an idiot. Steve, have you eaten? Want some eggs?”

“I ate this morning.” He opened your leg and ran his finger around the rim of the seared flesh. “Honey…”

“It’s ok.”

“How can you say it’s ok? It’s not ok that you come home like this.”

“What’s different from how you and Jamie come home? Know how many times I had to sew bullet wounds? And it is ok. Check my purse. That’s fifty gs in there. It’s a job, Steve. It makes people happy. And I happen to like it.” You turned to grab something and, in doing so, flashed the brand on the back of your neck. The spot where Hydra marked you for life. Bucky shared the same brand though his scar came in the form of his bionic arm. That was the disconnect. That’s where you and Bucky found each other. Your shared trauma. You would argue that he had his own trauma. It was nothing like what you and Bucky had experienced. He kissed you hard and said he had to go. He had to think more.

********************************************************

Two weeks before the wedding….

Kim’s mother arrived in town to help her with her final preparations. They had the final fitting of her dress, final hair and makeup trials and bridesmaids gifts. Kim checked her email while they were at lunch. She opened up an offer letter from a major tech company in Seattle. She squealed with delight when she saw all the zeros and the list of benefits. “Mommy, isn’t it great?! Stevie can retire. He can finally give up that shield and have the quiet life he deserves.”

“Oh, honey, he’ll be so happy when you tell him. I’m sure he’s chomping at the bit to get out of this godforsaken city.”

“He doesn’t exactly know that I was looking for another job. Let’s keep it to ourselves for now.”

“When do you plan on telling him exactly?”

“Not sure. I’ll know when the time is right.”

What Kim knew for sure is that he wouldn’t go quietly. Maybe she’d wait for the honeymoon to spring this news on him. She had to get him away from whatever distracts him from her. When she really took a hard look at their lives together there was only one person who stood in her way: Bucky. Those two were way too close for her comfort. It was time for them to move on from each other.

********************************************************

Three days before the wedding….

He was going through with it. He decided without talking to anyone else. The decision had to be his. Given that most of your clients were corrupt politicians and criminals, he couldn’t condone what you were doing. You were living on blood money. Most of that blood was yours. He had to settle for boring and predictable.

Kim’s family was descending on New York. She was staying with her sisters at the Plaza while Steve was at your place every night. You knew it was stupid. You had no business doing this. You should have told him to get bent and enjoy his new bride. You never listened.

Even Bucky stayed away. He has had his heart broken by Steven Grant Rogers too many times and this wasn’t going to be one of them. He begged you. Pleaded with you to tell him to fuck off. You just couldn’t do it.

The last day he was with you was the day of the rehearsal dinner. He woke you up with his tongue buried deep in your pussy. He made you cum on his face three times before he let you cum on his cock. The whole time your ankles were around his ears he told you he loved you. He would never love anyone as much as he loved you and Bucky. He was telling the truth. He loved you both with his whole body, mind and soul. You hated to be hopeful but here he was saying these things. You couldn’t help it.

After breakfast his phone started blowing up. First Kim called to find out if he picked up his tux while you were riding his cock in the kitchen. “Yes, sweetie, I’m looking at it right now.” While you were sucking him off in the shower she called to make sure he was picking up her father at the airport, “Tony arranged for car service for everyone. Don’t worry, babe. I have it under control. Go get your nails done.” The last time she called he had to cover your mouth because you were mid orgasm. “Kim, you need to take a deep breath. I am sure Buck was kidding when he said his date was allergic to shellfish.” He held his hand over the receiver, “Honey, are you allergic to shellfish?” He went back to rubbing your clit. You squirted all over his pelvis. You moaned so loud he almost dropped his phone ok your face.

“Shhhhh! No, sweetheart. That was someone on the street. I’ll see you in a little while. Me too.” He glared down at you, “Oh, honey, you’re gonna pay for that. Roll over.” He spit on your asshole and plunged in. “Fuck your hole is so tight.” His fingers found your clit again. Both of you met your release “I have to get ready. Do my tie?”

“I’ll fucking choke you with your tie.”

“Mmmm. I wish I had time for that.” He claimed your lips with his. You were going to fall apart when he left.

You were sitting on the edge of your bathroom counter with your dress unzipped, tying his tie. You heard the door open and Bucky’s heavy feet crossing the living room. “Hey, handsome.” You winked at him over Steve’s shoulder.

“Baby doll, you look beautiful. Doesn’t she look beautiful, Stevie?”

“She does. Kiss me one more time.” You planted a pants ruining kiss on him. He pressed his hardening cock against your core, “Jesus. I have to go. Take care of that wet pussy, Buck.” He kissed Bucky just as deeply before he grabbed his jacket and phone and headed out.

You continued doing your makeup. Bucky zipped your dress and kissed you below your ear. You could see the look on his face. It was a mix between “told you so” and “awww poor baby”. If he said a fucking word you were going to lose it on him. Luckily, he knew you well enough to keep his mouth shut.

********************************************************

The rehearsal dinner…..

You sat in the very back of the church while the wedding party did their thing. The wedding planner had everyone take a break while they fixed a lighting issue. Bucky sat next to you and pulled you in for a hug. Steve looked on while the two of you giggled over some inside joke. He was completely jealous. Every time Bucky kissed you, he wanted to die. But this is what had to happen. He refocused on Kim and continued their wedding practice.

“You had better get up there, best man. The groom looks pissed.”

“Back to jaw clenching. I want to go up there and slap him then kiss him followed by more slapping.”

“I think his wife might have something to say about that.”

“Fuck Kim. You hear me?” He held his hands on the side of his mouth and whispered, “Fuck you, Kim!” Steve must have heard him because he looked really mad. Stupid super soldier ears. You both lost all composure and laughed loudly.

“Bucky, honey, can you come up so we can finish?” Kim called from the altar. He rolled his eyes and ran up to reassume his best man duties complete with a salute to the general.

At dinner you barely saw Steve. He was busy working the room. When he finally made his way over to you he brought you a glass of cheap champagne. “Where’s Buck?”

“Well hello yourself. I don’t know. Last I saw he was talking to Thor.”

“Please don’t let him get drunk tonight. Keep an eye on him.”

You comically furrowed your brow and stiffly saluted him, “Yes, sir. Captain, sir.”

“Don’t get cute with me, honey.” He had that glint in his eye that warmed your core. If he could get you alone, he would smack your bottom until it was rosy like your lips.

“I’m going to find Jamie. It’s time for the toasts.”

Kim’s sister gave a heartfelt tear jerking speech. All of Kim’s family sniffled while the band of misfits known as Steve’s family looked bored. Well, except for Scott. He was crying too. When Bucky got up to speak, everyone held their collective breath. You hid your face in Loki’s chest wishing he would magic this moment away.

“Loki, can you make me def until he’s finished?” Loki laughed and rubbed your back.

“I’ll alert you when it’s over, darling.”

Steve should have been looking at Bucky but he was looking at you. You leaned against Loki while Thor filled your glass. He wondered exactly how many of his friends you fucked. He would be jealous of everyone who ever touched you. You were Bucky’s problem now.

You heard everyone laughing then cheering. You guessed Bucky did ok. Loki gave a thumbs up when Bucky asked how he did.

“So good, daddy. Let’s go say goodbye to the happy couple and get out of here.”

“Good idea, baby.” Before you could make it over Kim and Steve stood in front of everybody for a speech of their own.

“We want to thank everyone for making the trip to celebrate with us.” Kim spoke while Steve surveyed the crowd for you and Bucky. “All of this planning has finally come to this wonderful night. Stevie and I couldn’t be happier. I guess this is as good a time as any to share our big news.”

“You’re pregnant!” a voice shouted from the crowd. Steve blanched.

“No. No I’m not pregnant.” Everyone laughed. Steve let out a breath and some of the color returned to his face. “I am actually announcing that I have accepted a job in Seattle. Stevie and I will be moving right after our honeymoon. He can finally retire and pass on his shield to Sam like he’s been talking about for months.” All of Kim’s family cheered. Steve’s side looked shocked and angry. No one more than Steve who couldn’t even form words.

You grabbed Bucky’s hand but he pulled away. “This is bullshit! Steve! I can’t…let me go, Y/N.”

You were trying to pull him out of the room. You almost had him when Kim spoke again in the microphone, “You can’t have him forever; Buck. He’s mine now.” She laughed it off as a joke. No one else laughed.

That was it. Steve whipped his head around to her then back to Bucky who now required you, Sam and Thor to hold him back. “Fuck you, Kim! You said you loved us, Steve! You promised!”

“Jamie, let’s go home.”

“No! He promised us.”

“James Buchanan Barnes, you get in the fucking car before I make you.” You finally pushed him outside where neither of you could hold back your tears.

Tony called a family meeting upstairs which now apparently included Kim. Now Natasha was sure Kim had never been punched but she was gonna learn today.

“Cap, I speak for everyone in this room when I say what the fuck?” Tony folded his arms waiting for an explanation.

“This is the first I’m hearing of this.” He looked to Kim who looked like a deer in headlights.

“I don’t see what’s the big deal, Stevie. You have been talking of retiring for a while now. I just thought….”

“Young lady, when it comes to matters of world security, you don’t just think. There is protocol to follow.” Maybe Fury would be the first to throw a punch.

Steve was livid. She thought so little of the work he has done. “This isn’t a job, Kim. This is a calling. Erskine entrusted me with this serum to protect the world. I am part of Howard and Peggy’s legacy…”

“Oh please do not bring up Peggy again. She’s gone, sweetie. So is Howard. You did your job. If you really thought I was going to live my life waiting for you to come home from missions, you thought dead wrong.”

The whole room gasped when she mentioned Peggy. “Director Fury, I am not going anywhere. Can you all please excuse us?”

The room was soundproofed but that didn’t mean Nat didn’t turn on the mics. She and Clint stayed behind to watch. “Wish we had popcorn.”

********************************************************

The car ride over was silent save for a few sobs. You were able to calm yourself down but Bucky was inconsolable. His head was on your lap while you ran your fingers through his hair softly shushing him. You got him inside and helped him get undressed. He sat on the bathroom floor while you washed your face.

“Why does he keep doing this to me?” His voice was low but you heard him.

“Because you let him. And now so did I. I like the idea of us being together, Jamie. Move in with me. Or better yet, let’s get the fuck out of here. We can go anywhere in the world. Hell, we can go to Asgard for all I care. Let’s go be lords and ladies.”

He laughed and pulled you down to the floor with him, “Lord Jamie of Midgard. I like it. Let’s do it.” He pulled you in for a kiss and that’s where you get lost. Every drag of his tongue another journey deep into a world you’ve created only for the two of you. You were beyond heartbroken that Steve was leaving. He told you he loved you and actively didn’t choose you. Either of you. His loss. It was time for both of you to get out of this funk and start your lives anyway you wanted.

“So are we Taylor or Peaches tonight?” You pulled him to his feet and brought him to the living room

“What do you mean?”

“Are we going to ‘Shake it Off’ or ‘Fuck the Pain Away’?”

“Oh, my baby doll, I think we are never ever ever getting back together.”

“Yes!” You turned your speakers as loud as they could go and sang along with the music. He danced you around the room until you were both cackling. Your eyes met in the way they do and then your lips touched ever so slightly. “I am so in love with you, Jamie.”

“I’m sorry what? What did you just tell me, doll?” He pinned you down and started tickling you. “I think you just said you love me. I don’t see a school girl so you must be a sucker.”

“Only for you, daddy. I love you.” He kissed his way down the column of your neck while you told him you loved him over and over. His cock pressed against your thigh while he pulled your nipple into his mouth.

“You make me so happy, baby. Have to be inside you.” His fingers parted your warm folds and explored like it was the first time. He stroked the spongy spot inside while the heel of his hand ground over your clit. “Love you so much, baby. Cum for daddy.” Your moans filled the air as you came apart. “Gonna fill you up.” He slid his cock in painfully slow savoring each and every inch. His pace was not harsh. He didn’t want to hurt you like all the others. He only wanted to love you and make you feel good. Feel cared for. Your cunt fluttered around him telling him you were close. He devoured your mouth. Claimed it. Made it his. Your pleasure crashed over both of you like tidal wave. You rode it until both your bodies collapsed.

You would have stayed that way if both your phones weren’t blowing up. Steve was texting you both furiously. “What’s the play here, Pumpkin? Do we answer or screen?”

An evil little smirk lifted the corner of your mouth, “Let’s leave him on read.”

“You’re vicious. That’s gonna drive him insane. What if he comes here? I don’t want to see him. He will Jedi mind trick me into taking him back. I’m not strong enough to tell him fuck off.”

“I got you, daddy. Let’s have a bed picnic and watch a scary movie. That always puts me in a good mood.”

He grabbed snacks and headed to the bedroom to select a movie. You went to the kitchen to make root beer floats when you heard someone pounding on the door. You knew who it was.

“Don’t let him in!” Bucky called from the bedroom. “He’s like Obi Wan fucking Kenobi. We don’t need him.” You laughed but he was right. It would take one look into his deep blues and you would be a goner. You opened the door but didn’t budge to let him in. Never mind the fact that you were only in a t-shirt.

“Shouldn’t you be practicing your vows?” Your voice was smug and a hell of a lot more confident than how you felt.

“Is he here?”

“He is. He doesn’t want to see you. Neither do I. So…”

“Please, may I come in? I’d like to talk to you both.” Damn. You couldn’t say no to him. You gestured towards the couch. He moved Bucky’s boxers aside and sat down.

“You can talk to me first.”

“So talk.”

“You spent all morning telling me how much you love me and you still went through with this bullshit. Why? Why even say it?”

“Because I do love you. Listen, I'm not ....”

You became enraged. “But why say it if you always intended to marry Kim? Is it because I won’t say it back? I’ll say it back. I love you, Steve. I’m consumed by how much I love you two idiots.” His face lit up when he heard those words. He moved towards you but you pushed him away. “That’s not it. It’s something else. Tell me.” You knew how to push his buttons. He kept trying to interrupt but you wouldn’t allow him to speak.

He finally hit his limit and blurted out, “Because I don’t want a whore for a wife!” His eyes grew wide at his admission. His words even shocked him.

You gasped and walked backwards clutching your chest. “Of all the things men have called me and said to me, none of that hurt me as much as what you just said.”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it.” He tried grabbing you but you shoved him back.

“Yes, you did. At least I know where I stand with you.”

Before you could utter another word Bucky slowly walked into the room, “The fuck did you say to her?” All this woman has done over the last few months is make you happy. This is how you repay her? You can go.”

“If you would both just listen. I’m not going to Seattle. I’m not getting married. I came to apologize and it turned into this big fucking mess. This is all a mess.” You and Bucky shared a look. You were having some kind of telepathic conversation that Steve wasn’t privy to. “Please. All I want is to get in bed with you and forget this whole night ever happened.”

“Jamie looks at me and sees who I really am. You’ll never see me any other way. I’ll never be more than a whore to you. I’m going to bed. Stay. Go. I don’t care. I can’t even look at you right now.”

Steve looked at Bucky with pleading eyes. He grabbed a pillow and blanket from the linen closet and threw it on the couch. “Tell me what happened.” He couldn’t stay mad at Steve especially not when he was hurting like this.

Steve told him everything Kim had planned, how he admitted to her that he was having an affair the whole sordid story. “I fucked up, Bucky. She told me she loved me and I called her a whore.”

“She’s been called a whore many times. That’s not it. It’s that you said you can’t have anything more with her because she is a whore. You have to fix this.”

You were still awake and crying when Bucky came in. He slid under the covers and pulled you into the curve of his body. “I love you, Y/N. Until the end of time, you’re my girl. Let’s get married and have babies and cats. I’ll be your husband. Ok?” He whispered sweet words into your ear until he felt your chest rising and falling in a sleepy rhythm.

You woke up to a soft scraping sound in your closet. Bucky was still asleep next to you. You opened your eyes to find Steve hanging his clothes in your closet. He didn’t notice you stirring. He unpacked his Dopp kit and arranged his shoes. Was this mother fucker moving in?

“What are you doing?” You whispered trying not to disturb Bucky.

“Moving in. Want breakfast?”

“Who invited you?” You were annoyed that he was just inserting himself into your life like it was nothing. He knelt next to the bed and smoothed your bedhead.

“I invited myself. What I said.” He paused to recompose himself, “What I said was vile and inexcusable. I plan on making it up to you every day for the rest of our lives. Can you ever forgive me?”

Your eyes welled with tears again. “You broke my heart.” He held your face and kissed the tip of your nose.

“I’m so sorry, honey. Please forgive me. I can’t live without the two of you. If we split up, who would get custody of Buck?”

You rolled your eyes, sat up on the edge of the bed, cocked back your arm and punched him in his perfect face. “I am such a sucker.” You shoved Bucky over so Steve could get in bed. He grumbled and buried his head into your back.

“Why are you always up so early? Freak of fucking nature. Either go back to sleep or make me some pancakes.” Bucky sat up to see Steve sitting on the floor holding his eye. He laughed and laid his head on your chest.

“Do you want blueberries or chocolate chips, buddy?”

“Chocolate chips of course.” He whined

“Of course. Keep our baby warm.”

“There’s an ice pack on the door of the freezer!” You called out to him.

********************************************************

Over breakfast Steve explained how Kim reacted to the news of his affair. She almost seemed satisfied to know she was right.

He should have been getting married tonight. Tony suggested a party but Steve wanted to lie low. Let Kim leave New York with dignity. The press would be all over this story. “We were supposed to be leaving for our honeymoon tomorrow.”

“Where were you going?” you asked.

He snorted, “Disney World.”

Bucky got all excited, “I’ve never been to Disney World.”

“We’ll be in the Honeymoon Suite.”

“I’ll get my ears!” You ran to your closet and pulled out a whole box of special Mickey ears. They both smiled like love sick fools while you explained the designs. This should be the most ridiculous trip ever.