#Been wanting to fix some minor mistakes on this one for a while so here’s a reuploaded/fixed version!

[aimsarte]

first impression 🤝

[wonuwonder]

toast rule — jeon wonwoo (m)

content: wonwoo smut, fem reader x wonwoo, semi-public sex (bathroom), unprotected sex (pls wrap it), non relationship, anything else lmk!! 1.7k words

an: minors dni. not proof read! kinda rushed it so will be correcting mistakes later, lowercase intended. english is not my first language.

“you know there’s a saying, that if you avoid eye contact during a toast you’ll have bad sex for seven years” you say jokingly, you had gone out to some fancy restaurant for Soonyoung’s birthday, your best friend. some of your friends were mutual, and they were here as well as his own friends, which you knew a couple of them.

one of his friends, whom you’d always had seem to have some sort of tension with, Wonwoo; stares directly at you from across the table, smirks and, leans closer, extending his glass of wine to the middle of the table, and says;

“guess I better do it right” he locks his eyes with yours, and toasts your glasses together while the others do the same, you both stare directly at each other while taking a sip, and when you finish, he adds “cheers” his gaze going from your eyes to your red lips, and so on.

for the rest of the night, you become more aware of his presence, exchanging glances while pretending to pay attention to the conversation going on at the table. you catch him staring at you a couple of times, and he catches you doing the same, smirking everytime he does.

after a while, you feel something slightly brushing your leg, you quickly dismiss it, but then you feel it again, and again, shifting in your seat, you look under the table while trying not to move around so much, and you notice it wasn’t something, but someone doing it. you look up, and find him again, smirking at you, biting his lower lip as if trying to hold in his laugh, you glare back at him, and then look around the table to see if anyone had noticed you two bickering, but as you both were the last on each row at the table, no one was really paying attention.

“i’ll be back in a sec” you say to Seokmin, who was sitting next to you, all flustered, you glare at him again and get up from the table, heading towards the bathroom.

you look at yourself in the mirror and fix your hair, hell, you looked hot, wearing a little black dress that hug your curves perfectly, with just the perfect amount of cleavage, you’re about to put your red lipstick on when you see Wonwoo, entering the bathroom, quickly finding your gaze in the mirror.

“hey, what are you doing here?“ you ask as he gets to you, turning around, he’s standing in front of you —towering over you.

“looking for you, i got bored at the table” he gets closer, and brushes a strand of hair out of your face and rests his hand on your jaw, he leans towards your now exposed ear and says “wasn’t fun anymore if you weren’t there to look at” he continues, lifting your chin up, you can’t help but stare at his lips and his piercing onyx like eyes, as he does the same to you

“you weren’t so bad to look at yourself either” you say back playfully, intertwining your arms around his neck.

he grabs you by the hips and tugs you against him, making you whimper under his touch, already turned on by the sudden interaction, he leans closer, pushing you against the counter, while pressing his hips against yours, he brushes the hair out of your neck, but before kissing you he asks “may i?”, you nod, giving him the confirmation that you were as needy as he was, and honestly, you’d been wanting this since the night started.

he kisses your neck sofly, leaving a trail of kisses from the back of your ear, all the way to your clavicle.

“wonwoo…” you say lowering your voice, and he stops to look at you again, you heard people walking towards the bathroom, “anyone could walk in here any moment” he doesn’t think twice as he’s already pulling you towards the last stall in the bathroom, locking the door behind him just in time as people come inside the bathroom.

he stares back at your frame, all pressed up in that tiny little black dress you had decided to wear for tonight, that made your legs look endless, and hugged every inch of your body tight, which had been driving him crazy the minute he saw you walk into the restaurant.

“fuck it” he groans under his breath, and grabs your face kissing you hungrily, pressing you against the tiny wall, the kiss getting hotter by the second, he lowers his hands to your waist gripping you even tighter against him, you huff out a moan in response, and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, reminding you you weren’t alone, your eyes go wide, and he grins at you, before he continues kissing you, your hands roaming all over his toned body.

his shoulders looked so wide in that white shirt that had been hugging his muscles too tight, distracting you all night. your fingers quickly start to unbotton it.

“can’t wait huh princess?” he says pulling back from attacking your neck with kisses, —that were definitely going to leave marks—

“wonwoo please touch me” you say, voice all breathy from the heat, he wastes no time doing so and pushes your dress up to your waist, revealing the tiny red lace thong you had wore tonight, he groans when he sees it, putting it to the side for easy access, his fingers dipping in your arousal, spreading all over your pussy, massaging your clit, making you gasp, one of your hands leaving his neck to cover your mouth, just in time for when he adds one finger.

“you like that baby?” he says to your ear and all you can do is nod, overwhelmed by all the pleasure, he adds another one and curls then inside of you while continuing to play with your clit with his thumb, your eyes squeezing shut at the sensation.

“fuck won-“ you manage to say, he looks at you with his darkened eyes.

your hands reach for his pants, and you unbuckle his belt almost desperately, his erection pressing hard against the fabric, you start stroking his bulge from outside his boxers, his cock painfully hard by now and he hitches a breath the moment you do.

“i need you, right now” you demand and his hand leaves your pussy, shutting your mouth with his fingers, making you taste yourself and you take his fingers gracefully, coating them with your tounge.

“i need you to keep quiet baby” he whispers as he gets his boxers down his legs along with his pants, his throbbing cock sprinting against his lower abdomen, and fuck it was huge.

you reach for it almost instantly, stroking him delightfully, his head tipping back and biting his lower lip to keep quiet.

he stares back at your pleading eyes and you say “please fuck me won” your words coming out like music to his ears, he grabs one of your legs and hoists it up behind his waist, making space for him to fit between your legs, squeezing his forearm tightly to steady yourself, he lines up against your core, his cock already leaking with pre cum, and he sinks into you harshly, both of you looking down to where your bodies connect, your forehead falling against his shoulder biting your lips to keep shut. he slowly puls out and sinks back in, picking up the pace, he starts pounding on you, you both already a mess while trying to make as less noise as possible, his mouth finds yours again, kissing you passionately, you groan against his mouth as he finds your favorite spot, you can’t hold much longer.

“won… m’gonna” you start and he grips your hip tightly with his free hand, squeezing your thigh with the other.

“me too”, he thrusts into you one more time and you both come undone, you bite his shoulder trying not to scream, and he grabs your other leg, making you wrap yourself around his waist to sit on the toilet lid, straddling him, as he was still inside you, you both ride out your highs.

he rests his head on your chest and you play with his hair, resting your cheeck on top of his head, and you stay like that for a bit, as his cum drips out of your pussy. after he pulls out, he starts to clean you up, and you both dress yourselves as better as possible to look like nothing happened.

after you’re done, you try to figure out if there’s someone still in the bathroom, pressing your ear against the tiny door, wonwoo wasting no time in looking at the way your ass cheeks looked pressed in the fabric of your dress.

“you think someone heard us?” you say, while still trying to hear if there was someone else in the bathroom, he grips your ass tightly with one of his hands, making you turn around to look at him.

“probably…” he starts, “not that i care” he says and starts kissing you again, but you shut down the kiss before it starts getting heated again.

“won we need to go back, they’re probably wondering where the hell we went” you mutter out, he steals a kiss from you again, “i’ll go see if there’s anyone here and in the hallway, so you can escape first” you leave the stall trying to look as normal as possible, while fixing your dress and examine each stall, luckily for you, you were alone, but you open the door of the bathroom, and find minghao leaving the men’s bathroom.

“hey, y/n, you okay?” he asks.

“yes! just, um lady problems” you reply, and his eyes squint, not buying any of it obviously,

“… okay, see you at the table” he says back grinning at you, and when he turns to walk away, you go inside the bathroom to free wonwoo from the stall, “you can leave now, quickly” you say and he gets out, “when you get back to the table, say you were outside smoking or something, minghao was in the bathroom, so you can’t say that” you explain and he nods, “alright, alright” you walk towards the door together, but before opening it, he turns around and says, to your ear.

“next time we do this, i want to hear every little sound from you” he bites his lips and grabs the door handle.

“what makes you think there will be a next time?” you bite back.

“the way you loved my cock” he winks at you before leaving the bathroom, with the biggest smirk on his face.

an: notes comments or reblogs are appreciated, just wanna read what you think😭

[ofjunemoment]

let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters? 

 OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills. 

 pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader 

 genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn 

 wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst,  idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

 a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports. 

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport  — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face? 

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand. 

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.��� He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,”  You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg. 

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield. 

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times. 

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful. 

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class. 

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin. 

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t. 

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from. 

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped. 

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket. 

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.” 

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow. 

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves. 

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following. 

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly. 

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple. 

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green. 

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both. 

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night. 

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes. 

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break. 

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name. 

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class. 

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,” 

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving. 

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist. 

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath. 

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag. 

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead. 

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag. 

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process. 

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot? 

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently. 

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court. 

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more. 

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.” 

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit. 

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?” 

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side. 

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation. 

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton. 

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . .  a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation. 

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead. 

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time. 

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue. 

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack. 

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face. 

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie. 

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you. 

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?” 

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit. 

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date? 

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm. 

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness. 

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups. 

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment. 

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play. 

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here. 

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place. 

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?” 

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead. 

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?” 

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner. 

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left. 

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time 

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me 

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey 

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh! 

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps. 

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure. 

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea. 

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement. 

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.” 

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench. 

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.” 

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer. 

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors. 

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy;  but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water. 

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek. 

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream. 

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second. 

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair. 

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.” 

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him. 

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee. 

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more. 

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,”  His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress,  for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more. 

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength. 

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso. 

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you. 

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again. 

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills. 

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you. 

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.” 

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!” 

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time. 

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly. 

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows. 

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

[dollwrites]

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ smut ( minors dni ), fem!nurse!reader, doctor!nanami, somnophilia [ nanami is the one asleep ], mentions of substance abuse [ alcohol ], noncon, unreciprocated feelings, handjob, riding, creampie, all characters featured are aged 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading < 3

𝗸𝗶𝗻𝗸𝘁𝗼𝗯𝗲𝗿 𝟮𝟬𝟮𝟯 ∣ day eleven [ nanami kento + somnophilia ]

“Oh, Doc—“ you’d only gotten it partially out of your mouth before you realized he was asleep. “—tor…” your voice trailed into a quiet whisper of uncertainty as you looked him over. he was sitting upright, arms folded over his chest, and the only real giveaway that he was even unconscious was the fact that his head tilted to the right and downwards. it was a relaxed position, by his standards at least, but you thought it must be quite uncomfortable. you linger by the doorway, nibbling on your lip, before murmuring a soft, “Doctor?” as if to check and see if he were in a deep enough sleep that calling for him wouldn’t disturb him. he didn’t stir, and after a moment more of your timid hovering, you allow the door to the employee break room to close behind you. the automatic lock clicks in place, and you know that no one would be disturbing you in here for a while.

the other nurses had either gone home or were assigned to different floors of the hospital, leaving only you and your snoozing boss in this wing.

you inch closer, as sheepish as you would be if he were awake, your eyes flickering over every inch of him, drinking in every detail. you were so fond of Nanami, so taken by his good looks and his rumbly baritone of a voice. just being in the same vicinity like you were now, smelling the faint, sandalwood cologne that clung to his skin, had your cheeks hotter than an oven.

you adored him, for some reason unbeknownst to even you.

you always had.

you inhale, deeply as you approach, your eye’s coruscating over empty bottles of booze and used glasses. you didn’t know Nanami to drink, and you wouldn’t believe he would do so in the middle of a shift, so you had to assume that the festivities hadn’t been his choice.

you find a girlish giggle bubbling up in your throat, and you stifle it with a hand over your mouth as your eyes trace his face again. this time, you’re hyper aware of the pinky tint to his cheeks, and the shiny, residual alcohol on plush, lower lip. “Finally, an endearing flaw…” you whisper aloud to yourself as you tip toe closer, your heart pounding in your chest. but your eyes are fixed on his lips. slowly and carefully, you stood in front of him, and leaned forward until your mouth was inches from his, breathing a shaky breath against his couplet. you were wide eyed, staring at his countenance; you never thought you would be this close to him, ever. “Can’t handle your booze, doctor…?” it’s hardly a whisper— but syllables strung together in a heavy breath. “It’s okay… I’ll take care of you…”

fear grips you, but your want to make the move you'd never have the opportunity to had he been conscious is stronger, and wills you to close the remaining distance between your mouth and his, your lips trembling before they form a seal with the opposite pair. even though he doesn’t kiss you back, you mewl from his taste. you feel as though you get drunk off the alcohol lingering on his breath, and in his mouth as you pry his lips apart with your tongue, and scrape the inside of his warm cavern.

the urge for more— the need to be close to him overwhelms you, and you slowly pull yourself on to him, straddling his lap when both of your hands careen upwards, and bury themselves in his soft, golden tendrils. you deepen the kiss, panting excitedly into his mouth as his jaw hangs slack, and guide his head back, gently, with both hands.

breaking the deliciously wrong kiss is almost too difficult, but you must come up for air, and you pull back after several seconds of your tongue exploring his mouth. you simply look at him, breathing heavily, and take in the way you’ve spurred his lips to swell with your hard, needy kisses. you could still see that shine on them, so you drag your tongue along his lower tier, before your mouth works on its own volition, trailing over his jaw and down his neck, openmouthed so you can breathe, ragged against his flesh, with your tongue signing your name everywhere it traveled. “You taste good…” you swoon. you couldn’t help yourself, you had to speak the words into existence before latching on to his neck with your teeth. a subtle groan gurgled from deep in his throat, and you feel your stomach turn over, certain that you were caught— but he didn’t move. his eyes remained closed, and you stared for s number of seconds, suckling on his skin, bringing a fresh lovebite up to the surface.

finally convinced that he wouldn’t come to, your hands slide to his tie, making short work of loosening it enough so it sags pathetically against his broad chest, that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. “Does it feel good to you?” you muse, thoughtful as that sound still resonates deep in your core. you want to hear him moan again, so much so that your hands have begun to fumble with his button up without you realizing. “I want to make you feel good, doctor…”

undressing him always to the halfway mark, you seem to get too excited in the final stretch, and leave the last few buttons on his shirt near his navel, instead you sicced yourself upon the expanse of his chest, barren of hair or marks, but not for long. in short time, you’ve left your signature all over him— deep reddish bruising in the shape of your kiss, and each time, he seemed to make that same, strangled sound.

but it wasn’t enough.

your hands work faster than your mind, gripping his belt and unbuckling it, before working on his slacks. then, they both delve into the entryway provided and seek the warm, thick muscle you know to be there. he isn’t yet hard, but that doesn’t matter to you, one hand tugs at his garments, shimmying them down on to his thighs whilst the other grips his cock and starts to pump. you gaze down long enough to push a drizzle of spit from your lips and on to his exposed sex, and you moan out loud at the perfection of him.

sparse, blonde pubic hair creates a soft bed for his girthy cock, which was flaccid, but still surprisingly impressive. it twitched against your palm as you smear the saliva over it, taking extra time to tease the rosy slit.

“Gggh…”

your eyes flicker upwards again, to see how Nanami’s expression has changed as you stroke him. his thin brows knit closer together, and his arms lay at each side, fingers twitching as if he were looking to grab on to something.

“Such a scary scowl…” you whisper, pumping him harder between your bodies as you nuzzle your face in his chest. your knuckles bump against your own belly as you press as close to him as possible, feeling his cock getting harder and harder, the head swelling, jabbing upwards demanding your attention, “but you got hard so easily, you must be so frustrated.” you could feel your stomach bunching into knots the harder that he got, your cunt already clenching around air still trapped in your damp panties, as if the anticipation of feeling him in your guts all but overwhelming you. “I’m frustrated, too,” you whine, your mouth trailing back up over his chest. this time, you snag his nipple between your teeth, and tease the bud, watching how the muscle pads in his abdomen seemed to contract as his breathing got heavier. after a moment, you allow it to pop free from your mouth and you ease yourself up, reaching under your skirt with one hand, you hook your svelte digits around your panties and pull them to one side, wiggling your hips until you’re hovering directly above his waiting cock. “You’ll fix it for me, won’t you, doctor?” it’s a soft, needy croon, before you sink down, slowly.

the initial stretch as his cock head spears your folds has you hissing, dropping your head back. “S—so big,” you mewl. once he was nestled and secured with his tip wedged into your fluttering canal, both of your hands grapple at his broad shoulders for support, instead. “Nanami…!” it was the first time you’d ever called him by his name, but you didn’t even realize. you were much more concerned with how full you were of him already, and a brief glance downward at the join of your bodies let you know that there were plenty of inches left to go. with a soft whimper, you nuzzle your face into his neck and start to bounce, slow at first, letting your body get fully acquainted with his solid cock. “Fuuuck,” you whine, into his skin, rocking your hips harder. faster. you were taking more of him, your thighs making a wet sound as they smack against his lap, but you couldn’t slow down. you couldn’t stop. “You feel good, Nanami! Your cock feels good!”

Nanami moans, and the sound rumbles from his chest, bubbling up to his throat and then leaking out of his parted lips as his eyes seem to roll around behind fluttering lids. he was too wasted to fully wake up, and you assumed that even if he came around, he wouldn’t be able to register what exactly you were doing to him. his cheeks are much redder now, his breathing coming out in furious, little puffs as his head lolls against the back of the sofa. “Uh… hhuhh… hhh… ggggnnn….”

you couldn’t pretend his struggling pleasure sounds weren’t getting you off, nor could you deny the feeling of his cock twitching in your belly, and you wrap both arms around his neck, pulling yourself closer to his torso. you smear your clothed body over his haphazardly undressed one, riding him hard and deep. your thighs were starting to feel sore, but it was a dull ache that you could ignore for a while longer, because there was a churning in your belly. a familiar bubbling. the bulging veins that laced his sturdy cock were massaging your spongy nerve clusters, the swollen head spearing into sensitive territory, and you were swooning— close to the edge, your own eyes threatening to roll back in your head.

“You’re going to cum, aren’t you, Nanami?” you purr, close to his ear, before you nibble on it. the throbbing had gotten all the more intense, stirring your insides, and even his hips had started to twitch, now, his face contorted in subconscious pleasure. “Oh, god, please… please cum in me, Nanami…! I need to know what it feels like— to be filled up by you! It’ll make me cum, too!”

you knew he couldn’t hear you, or at the very least, he couldn’t respond, but his body seemed to react. as you slammed down, relentlessly fucking him, your walls clenching tight around him. you were determined to milk him for all he was worth, and that’s exactly what you did.

the first spurt catches you off guard. as you sit flush on his lap, relishing the way his tip kisses your cervix, you feel a surprising warmth sinking in. your eyes widen, and you groan, hugging closer to him. “A—Nanami— cum… cum in me!” more splattering follows, flooding your womb as you cry out, hoarse and happy, grinding your hips forward to work him around inside of you to tease your own, trembling body into cumming right along with him.

you unravel shortly after, your belly full and tender, and you pant, thighs trembling, kissing every inch of his exposed neck up towards his jaw, and over to his mouth. “Mmm…” you croon, when you start to come around, and begrudgingly slip from his lap. your knees almost buckle, and you gasp, having to push both hands against his chest to steady yourself. a dribble of his release oozes from your spasming hole and trickles down your thigh. once you’re stabilized, one hand reaches down to push your panties back in place, keeping any more of his spunk from leaking out, but your fingers trace the essence that escaped, and bring it to your face. you stare at the sticky, white webs, and then to Nanami’s sleeping form. you smile, mischievously, and pushes your fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean.

“You taste good, too, doctor.” you purr, now running your free hand’s fingers through unruly peach tendrils. his breathing has slowed back to normal, but he still looked a mess. his clothes half off, and his used cock laying against his belly, soft and dripping his cum and your juices, and the flesh of his chest and neck littered with hickeys. “Maybe next time Geto and Gojo get you plastered, I’ll suck you off instead.”

[itsthestutterforme]

Touch Starved (Best!Friend!Ari x black!reader)

Summary: It’s been a year since your boyfriend, Steve, passed away. You chose to stay celibate ever since his passing, and you’ve accepted the fact you were touch starved. But when there’s a lesson on it in your psychology class, you learned more about yourself than you realized. You learned a little bit about your best friend, Ari, too.

Notes: GIF is not mine, all mistakes are my own, sexual themes (oral sex, shower sex, allusions to sex, overstimulation, touch starvation), MINORS DNI!!

**

Folding your arm at an awkward angle, you rested your chin on the back of your forearm as wrote your notes with your IPad stylus for your PSY 101 class.

“That can’t possibly be comfortable,” your best friend Ari stated, looking at you as if you grew two heads.

“First of all, fix your face.” You gave him a side eye before you continued writing.

“And secondly?” He sparks.

“And secondly- it is very comfortable.”

The professor continued, “Touch starvation. While it is a prognosis disclaimed from medicine, there is trace evidence of its existence. In most cases, it initiates from a long duration of abstinence. In some cases, it can be as short as six months.”

Ari glances over at you calmly writing your notes, hoping that he isn’t somehow giving himself away. He hasn’t been with anyone for the past seven months.

He didn’t find a point. No one could distract him from the fact that he was in love with you.

The boys in his frat thinks he spends the weekend hooking up with random chicks in his classes.

When really, he spends his weekends binge watching Love Island and doing spa days with you.

He would never live it down if his frat brother knew. But truthfully, he could care less if they find out.

“Touch Starvation tests the fine line between desperation and overstimulation. When you’re touch starved, it drives you to become desperate for human touch and connection,”

Ari noticed you stopped writing and looked up at the professor as he continued. Your slowed blinking tells Ari that you were dissociating.

“But if a connection is a second too long, it overstimulates your sense pushing you to escape. Which still doesn’t change one fact: you still want that connection. It truly does push your psyche to its breaking point, which segways into tonight’s homework,”

Ari touches your hand gingerly, snapping you out of your thoughts. He takes note that you don’t move your hand away from his.

“Are you alright?” He questions.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m okay.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.. did you write the homework down?”

“It’s right here,” he pushes his agenda towards you so you could write down the homework assignment.

A writing prompt entailing which areas you are touch starved.

Just perfect, you thought to yourself.

Ari waits patiently for you to start packing up first before he did. You bit your lip as you slid your iPad into your backpack, a tell sign that you were overthinking.

He lets you in front of him as the two of you wait in line to leave the classroom.

The two of you didn’t talk much the entire five minutes it took to get to your dorm room.

“Okay, spill.” Ari states, tossing his backpack on the ground and flipping your chair backwards to sit down in one fluid motion.

“There’s nothing to spill,” you said, still biting your lip as you attempted to take your IPad from your backpack.

Standing from the chair, he took your backpack from your hands and set it on the ground.

“You know you can at least try to make it sound convincing,” He retorts, crossing his massive arms across his chest.

“Do you think you’re touch starved?” He asked after a few moments of silence, causing you to sigh.

“I know I am. But it’s my choice to be this way.” You sat on your bed, folding your hands in your lap.

“Your choice?” Ari repeats as he joins you on the bed.

“I know I’m never going to find a love like I had with Steve. I’m lucky to even experience a love like that in the first place. Men like you and Steve are rare. Believing that I’ll find something like that again is just setting myself up for disappointment.”

“What, so you’re just going to give up on finding love?” He wanted to kick himself for getting riled up.

“Honestly? Yeah, I have.” You start, Ari’s heart clenches in his chest.

Maybe he didn’t have a chance after all.

“It‘s not necessarily a bad thing. Being single seems to be the end of the world for some people. But for me, it’s liberating.”

“It’s not liberating if you’re touch starved though, right?” Ari says cautiously.

“It’s better than hopping from relationship to relationship, trying to fill a void that I know I won’t fill.” You said with a sigh, leaning your back agains the bed.

Ari lays down next to you with a sigh of his own. “Can I.. tell you something?” You hesitate, turning your head to face him.

“Anything,”

“Every night, I would hold my face the way Steve used to. It helps me fall asleep.”

“How did Steve used to hold your face?”

You sat up and looked at him a moment. You weren’t sure what you were waiting for, you guess you to see if he was joking or not.

He slowly sits up, waiting for you to say something. Say anything.

When you don’t, he says, “You don’t have to. Sorry I-“

You lifted your hand and gently pressed your palm to the side of Ari’s face, his beard felt soft against your skin.

Caressing the apple of his cheek, Ari wanted to shut his eyes and relish in the feeling of this intimate moment.

But his eyes remained set on you. Adjusting your hand on his face, a breath hitched in his throat when you moved closer to cradle the other side of his face in your hands.

You let out a shaky sigh when you gently ghost your thumb over his smooth lips.

“That’s how he used to hold me.”

You had to pull away. You needed to. But you couldn’t. And neither could Ari.

“I.. need to tell you something, Y/N/N.” He starts, pulling your hands away from his face and taking them into his warm hands.

But before he could say anything else, the door jiggled. Something that your roommate did to give you a warning before barging in.

Although you told her you had no interest in bringing a guy home, she still did it.

You suppose this time, you appreciated it. Jumping up from the bed, you brushed a few curls out of your face.

Unable to meet his gaze, you grabbed your backpack from the floor and scrambled to look as normal as possible.

Ari took your chin between his thumb and pointer finger. His soft gaze made your heart skip a beat.

“We should have a talk,”

“We should,” you agreed.

**

“You feeling okay?” Ari questions when he walks into your dorm room shirtless with his black sweatpants hanging low on his waist, his V line peeking from his waist band.

You heard a few girls giggling in the hall but Ari didn’t pay them any mind. “Hey, Ari. There’s a-“

“Not interested,” Ari closes the door before they had a chance to get closer.

You pressed your lips together to hold back your smirk. You had no idea why you were smirking in the first place.

“Y/N,” “Hm?” “I said were you feeling okay?” Your heart skips a beat in your chest when you see Ari removing his towel from his shoulder and exposing his bare chest.

“Uh, yeah I’m fine. Help me pick a movie, Aladdin or Princess and the Frog?” You said, changing the subject.

“Princess and the Frog,” he determines, climbing into bed with you. You pressed play on the movie and sat up against the window sill.

“You know they were probably going to invite you to a party,” “I don’t care about parties,” he said with a sigh, cocking his head as he sat up on his elbow.

“You’re in a fraternity. You’re supposed to care about parties,” “Fraternities are over rated,”

“Then why did you even join one?” “I thought it would add enough charisma to get you to fall in love with me,”

You thought he was serious at first but when he cracked a smile, you rolled your eyes at his antics.

“You’re such a dick,” you said, shoving his shoulder. The A/C unit on the ceiling kicks on and blows consistently cold air directly onto of you.

You slide under the covers and Ari wrapped an arm around you, pulling your body directly into his chest.

You sucked in a breath when his hand finds your stomach. His warmth radiating off of him felt like a furnace.

The movie continued to play and neither of you said anything. This wasn’t the first time he’s come over and held you.

The two of you came to an agreement a week ago and now, every day after his rugby practice, Ari came over.

But you couldn’t help your heart racing in your chest. Especially since you could feel Ari looking at you as you watched the movie.

“How long are we going to pretend there’s nothing here?” Ari finally questions and you slowly stir in his arms.

You didn’t miss his gaze flicker from your eyes down to your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“I’m not pretending,”

You’re lying through your teeth, and he knows that. “Oh yeah? Then why is your heart racing?”

“Because of that,” you stated, motioning to his shirtless glory. “And why would this make you nervous unless you were attracted to it?”

“God, would you stop asking valid questions, please?” Ari chuckles at your nervousness, causing you to huff.

“This isn’t funny,” you added softly, covering your face as you lay back down on the bed.

He pulls your hands away from your face and took your face into his hands.

He rested his forehead against yours and waited for you to exhibit anything that showed him you didn’t want this.

He was surprised when you closed the gap between you and pressed your lips to his.

He tangles his fingers into your hair to pull you closer and you gasped when he nipped at your bottom lip, giving his tongue access.

He brings one of his hands away from your face and gripped the edge of your bed.

Your lips fell into sync with his, you could still taste the toothpaste from when he brushed his teeth moments before.

You find yourself pulling away from him a moment and his eyes searched yours. “I-I’m.. Do you want me to leave?”

His eyes darken when your hands trailed up his arms and down his toned back muscles.

“No, I don’t want you to leave.” “What do you want* me to do?”

“What do you want to do?”

He looked at you for a few seconds before looking down at your waist. He looked back up at you, asking a silent question.

“Are you.. asking if you can eat me out?”

“Yes,” he lets out a breath.

“Is that something you think about often?” “I think about it every day, yes.”

“Every day?”

“Please,”

Is he begging right now?

“Okay,” you lifted your hips up and pulled your shorts down your legs. You moved to take off your panties but he stopped you.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You nodded and he parted your legs, sliding between them.

He gripped your chin and pressed a long kiss on your lips, gasping into your mouth when you scratched down his back.

“You keep doing that and I won’t be able to contain myself.” So you did it again, harder this time.

Before he could stop himself, he wrapped his hand around your throat and pulled you close so you were nose to nose.

“Sorry,” you gasped out, wetness stained through your panties. He taps your cheek with his index finger as a warning before pulling away and leveling himself with your core.

Looking to you one last time, you nod and he pulls them down your legs, tossing them somewhere in the room.

He kisses the swell of your thighs, propping your legs over his shoulders before he flattens his tongue between your folds.

He laps at your clit each time he licks up your stripe. Your legs were already starting to shake as you quickly neared your orgasm.

It was to be expected, considering you didn’t have sex for over a year. But it was still embarrassing nonetheless.

You clenched your stomach muscles as an attempted to hold back your orgasm and closed your legs around his head.

He groans in annoyance, spreading your legs all the way and roughly suck at your clit until you were convulsing.

“Ari,” you whimpered, pushing at his head when he continued to lap up your juices once you’ve came down from your orgasm.

He pulls away from you, finally giving you a chance to breathe. Sitting up on his knees, he watches your chest move with deep heaves and his gaze fell back to your pussy.

And suddenly he felt the impulse to go back down.

Readjusting himself in his sweatpants, he licks his lips to reminisce your taste.

“You okay?” He questions.

“I can’t believe I came that fast,” you said, looking up at the ceiling.

“I mean, that’s normal considering.” He responds.

His voice was an octave lower than usual and it made a gush of wetness made its way down your thighs.

Your body was responsive. Responsive to him. And Ari loved every bit of that.

**

“Dude where have you been?” Trent asks, sitting down next to Ari in the dining hall.

“I’ve been at practice dude,” “And what? They have overnight practices now?” Trent prods.

When Ari doesn’t respond, Trent huffs and rolls his eyes. “Whatever dude. There’s a meeting tonight at 6:30, and if you’re not there, Sam will have your ass.”

“I’ll be there. Relax, man.” Ari states, pretending to read a textbook he had open when he was really watching some guy come up to you at the salad bar.

Once Trent leaves, Ari goes back to watching the entire interaction.

“Hey, you’re one of the supervisors for the training center, right?” The man asks, putting his hands in his pockets.

“Yeah, I am.”

You picked up a bowl and used the prong to put lettuce on the bottom.

“Alright, so I’m failing CHEM 212. A buddy of mine said that you helped bump his grade up like 10 points. So I was wondering if you could do the same for me.” He explained, taking a step closer to you which made Ari’s eyes narrow.

“Oh, I don’t tutor anymore. I’m a supervisor now, so I just oversee the tutors that currently work at the center. I can make a suggestion, if you want.”

“No, I don’t want a suggestion. I want you.”

Once Ari sees you take a step back from the man, he jumps from his seat and weaves through the tables until he reached you.

When he got close enough to you, he heard the man say, “Look, why can’t you just make an exception and tutor me?”

“Because she made it clear that she didn’t want to. No means no, dick.” Ari says from behind you.

“What the fuck did you just say?” The man says.

You use the counter top to stabilize yourself. You’re not sure how you’re walking around right now. Not after Ari had his way with you in the shower, not caring if anyone could walk in.

Only to carry you back to your dorm and flipped you over so he could eat it from the back. All before your PSY 101 class.

“You heard what I said the first time,” Ari closes the gap between him and the guy.

He waits until they were chest to chest.

“That’s my girlfriend. Show some fucking respect.” He adds.

“My bad bro, I really need to pass the semester.”

“You should have thought about that before you were an asshole,” Ari states, taking your hand into his and walking the two of you back to the table.

“What?” Ari says when he catches you looking at him once the two of you sat down.

“You called me your girlfriend,” you said, popping a cherry tomato in your mouth.

“Let’s be honest, sweetheart. You became my girlfriend the minute l found out how you tasted,” he eyes you as he takes a swig of his Coke.

He didn’t miss the way you pressed your legs together when he licks his lips after sipping his drink.

He leans closely to ask, “Did you want to take the salad to go?”

[helloalycia]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 [𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄] — 𝐉𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐈𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐎𝐑

summary: after your drunken kiss with Jackie, you're left to deal with the consequences.

warning/s: mentions of underage drinking and minor violence.

author's note: here’s the final part! last jackie one for a while as i don’t have anything pre-written, but i’m working on other stuff so i hope this holds you guys down for a bit :)

one / two / masterlist / wattpad

It was safe to say that the next day, after the worst hangover of my life, everything came back to me and I was mortified at what I'd done. Technically, it was the both of us, but we were both out of it and Jackie Taylor never begged for anyone, especially not me. It had to have been a mere drunken mistake and that was it.

Two days after the party, Van and I were hanging out at the skate park and she, expectedly, brought up the whole finding Jackie and I making out situation.

"I never would've guessed, y'know," she was saying, surprised. "Jackie didn't strike me as a–"

I stopped skating before her, foot on the lip of the board as I shot her a look. "We were drunk, Van, you saw it yourself. It didn't mean anything."

Van snorted. "It didn't look that way from where I was standing."

Cheeks flushing, I tried to play it cool. "You were standing on the balcony claiming you could do a ninja flip in the pool at one point. I wouldn't take you as gospel."

"Hey, I totally could've landed that if Tai didn't pull me down!" she defended, making me stifle a smile as I skated circles around her. "Look, all I'm saying is Jackie has been asking about you a lot lately. No offence, but you're not that interesting."

"Gee, thanks," I said sarcastically.

"Could've meant more is all I'm saying," she finished with a shrug.

"Well, it didn't," I assured her, though a small part of me was beginning to question if it did.

No, it couldn't have. She was Jackie Taylor and I was... an absolute idiot.

And with that mentality, I wasn't really planning to bring it up to her, figuring she'd do the same. The following Monday at school, we didn't really have much crossover as Chemistry wasn't on the schedule. There were times when my eyes would cross hers in the hallway, but I couldn't read her expression. The memory of her lips on mine would come to mind and I'd be forced to look away, still wondering if it had been real.

That afternoon after school was when our paths really crossed, as we had our weekly volunteering hours at the community garden. When I arrived, everybody was gathered in front of the manager outside and I hurried to join them, noticing I was a little late. Jackie was stood a few people down from me in the row, and when I glanced at her, she made no effort to look my way.

After being given our tasks for the next few hours, we all got straight into it. Unlike every other time we were here, she wanted nothing to do with me, no inclination to work together. In fact, it was as if she was avoiding me completely, frustrated by my presence, and I wasn't sure why because I was under the impression it was a mutual understanding we wouldn't talk about the kiss.

After an half an hour of planting some seeds, I decided to just ask her, finding her in the corner by the water fountain as she (surprisingly) scrubbed it clean.

"Er, hey," I spoke, the first time since we'd made out in Lottie's gaming room.

At my voice, she glanced up at me with narrowed eyes before scoffing quietly and looking back to the fountain. I felt something cold patter on my skin and looked up to see it was beginning to drizzle, but only slightly. Ignoring that, I focused my attention on Jackie.

"Are you mad at me about something?" I asked.

She paused to look at me with an incredulous stare. "Seriously?"

I pursed my lips awkwardly. "Yeah."

Clenching her jaw and simultaneously squeezing the sponge in her hand, she lowered her voice and fixed me with a glare. "Weren't you going to say anything?!"

"What?"

"Do I have to freakin' spell it out for you?"

"The kiss," I acknowledged, fearing saying it aloud, because it only made it more real.

She exhaled sharply, hazel eyes looking green with fury.

"You... you meant that?" I asked dumbly.

At this, her expression loosened and she looked away with pink-tinged cheeks. "Forget it."

Taken aback, I stepped forward, forcing myself in front of her. "No, wait, Jackie–"

"You don't care," she said in a surprisingly sad voice, eyes flickering to mine. "No matter what I do."

I swallowed hard, my heart squeezing in my chest at the way she looked at me. Her words from the party, before the kiss, came to mind. I've been trying to get your attention for months, you idiot. All this time, all this attention... she meant it?

"I thought you were playing a game," I admitted, feeling stupid even as I said it.

Slowly, her face scrunched up with hurt. "Well, I wasn't."

She began to scrub the tiles of the fountain rapidly and I realised how blind I'd been. But as I opened my mouth to apologise, a fellow student called for my help and I had no choice but to leave.

The drizzle worsened over the next hour, as did Jackie's avoidance of me. I was still reeling over her admission, truly believing she'd have regretted kissing some loser Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle on Halloween when she could've had anyone. I knew I needed to make things right because making her this upset was never my intention.

We ended up finishing earlier than usual because the forecasted drizzle quickly turned into a cool shower, making it impossible to work in the garden. As everybody rushed to leave, I tried to find Jackie, spotting her walking out the garden and down the road. Hand clutching my hood on my raincoat, I followed after her, noticing the only thing she had for protection was her denim jacket. Typical Jackie, not dressing for the season.

"Hey," I called to her, eventually falling into step. "Have you got a ride home?"

She didn't bother to look at me. "None of your damn business."

I struggled to keep up with her pace as I squinted my eyes through the rain. "Jackie, please. I can give you a–"

She stopped abruptly to scowl at me. "Leave me alone!"

I frowned guiltily. "At least take my jacket."

"Fuck off," she hissed, before storming off.

I sighed at her stubbornness, running the other way to get to my car. It took me barely two minutes to drive down the road and catch up to her. She was still storming down the street, soaked to the bone and very much irritated.

"Jackie," I called out through my rolled down window, driving slowly next to her. "Just get in the car! Please!"

She ignored me, managing to flip me off without sparing a glance in my direction.

"You don't have to talk to me, just please let me take you home!" I offered, guilt pressing on my chest.

Nothing.

I groaned and parked a little ahead of her before jumping out the car and trying again, unable to leave her when she was so upset. And the reason she was so upset was because I was a coward when it came to my emotions. Well, no more.

Running to catch up to her, I skidded to a stop before her. "Wait."

She tried to shove past me, but I grabbed her by the shoulders and kept her fixed in place, speaking before she could berate me further.

"The reason I'm not swayed by you like everyone else is because I never had a chance," I rushed out, competing with the pitter-patter of the rain.

She paused, studying my expression curiously as I continued.

"I wasn't going to drool over you like everyone else because it only reminded me that it was a delusion," I said weakly, letting go of her shoulders. "It's embarrassing, Jackie. It's not that your charms weren't working, it was me."

She opened her mouth slightly, eyebrows lifted with surprise.

"I'm sorry," I said sincerely, squinting through the rain. "I don't want you to be upset at me. It's just– well– like I said, it's embarrassing."

Her eyes flickered between mine, before her expression hardened. "Shut up."

I sighed, expecting her annoyance. "Jackie–"

"No, shut up," she interrupted, and then her hand lifted to my cheek and she was pulling me in for a kiss. 

The breath was quite literally knocked from my body as her lips found mine, intermingled with water droplets and her lipgloss. It lasted only a few seconds, not even enough for me to acknowledge, before she pulled apart and frowned at me.

"You have a fucking chance," she said sternly, contrasting her warm gaze that was making my heart race. "You always did."

Her breath tickled my lips as she held me close, sending shivers down my spine.

"You're so stupid," she muttered.

I sighed, licking my lips. "I know." And as the rain seemed to pick up, I became aware of the two of us stood out here, soaked to the bone, and gave her a knowing look. "Not stupider than you though, marching off into a thunderstorm because you're stubborn."

She scoffed, hand resting on my chest as she shoved me slightly. "I would've gotten the bus."

I couldn't help but smile, which soon turned into a laugh. "Please, get in the car. I'll drop you off."

Her expression softened as she looked to me, nodding, and I quickly opened the door for her, helping her in. We both sat there for a moment, warm air blasting to fight off the cold damp that had settled through our clothes, and my mind was still racing.

"I notice you," I admitted to her, earning her attention. "Everything you do. Everything about you. I'm as hooked on you as everyone else. That was the problem."

Feeling her eyes on me, I glanced at her, unable to read her mind.

"Is it still?" she asked softly.

All I could do was shake my head, eyes taking in the sight of her smudged makeup and wet hair, pressed to her forehead. She had a hold on me like nobody else did, but I wasn't so scared of it anymore.

Her hand found mine, squeezing it gently, reassuringly, and I encased hers between mine.

"Time to go home," I said, and she smiled gently.

"Please."

I returned her smile before finally setting off, driving her home in a comfortable silence. She didn't live far and I reached the Taylor residence in ten minutes, pulling up outside.

As she reached to open the door, I quickly said, "Wait," and jumped out the car, taking off my jacket.

I raised it above my head to use as a cover against the rain, then opened the passenger door for her. She smiled gratefully, accepting my outstretched hand, and I held my jacket above us as we rushed to the front door, hoping to make it out the rain.

"Thanks," she said when we stopped on her porch, giving me chance to lower my jacket momentarily.

I smiled then hesitated, eyes flickering over her face, nerves creeping in the longer I stared.

"Do you, maybe, wanna go out with me on a date?" I asked quickly, before I could overthink it any longer. "Maybe we could get lunch? I'm not sure when you're free, but–"

"Yes," she answered just as quickly. "Tomorrow?"

Both relieved and excited, I nodded. "Yeah. That sounds good. I can pick you up for one?"

Her lips pressed together in a warm smile. "Yeah."

I nodded, unable to stop smiling. "Cool."

She laughed and then kissed my cheek, making my whole body grow alight at her touch. "Drive safe, Y/N."

I swallowed hard, nodding instantly, unable to find my words. Waving goodbye, I began to walk down her pathway and back to my car, glad she couldn't see my face because my grin was permanent. I was taking Jackie freakin' Taylor out on a date!

—

Dating Jackie was still difficult to believe, especially when it was just the two of us who knew, so it felt as unreal as it did wonderful.

Our first date went as smoothly as it could've been, and I was surprised when Jackie asked me out on a second one before it even ended. It was easy to fall into her, everything she did igniting every part of me like fire to a match, and though she was still her usual self-obsessed and cocky self, I suddenly found those traits endearing, only because they were hers.

It hadn't been discussed, but neither of us told anyone about our relationship, not even a month into it. Neither Van or Shauna, the people who knew us the best, knew about us. It wasn't because we didn't trust them, but it was easier to live in our bubble for a little longer before we shared it with the others.

Of course, with friends like them, secrets didn't stay secrets for long.

I was grabbing some books from my locker with Van, who wouldn't stop chatting my ear off about one of her classes. A little tired, definitely not a morning person, I was only half listening to what she was saying.

"...by the way, can I borrow your headphones today? I left mine at home and I've got a free period," she said between her rambling.

"Yeah, they're in my bag," I told her, passing her my backpack before resuming my search in my locker for my textbooks.

She accepted it and began rooting through it whilst continuing to talk, and then she suddenly fell quiet, pulling something out of my bag with a questioning look.

"Whose is this?" she asked with confusion.

I glanced at her, almost doing a double take when I recognised the lipgloss in her hand as Jackie's. She must have dropped it in there by accident when we were last hanging out. But I couldn't say that to Van, not without her asking why we'd been hanging out in the first place, so I tried to play it cool.

"Huh, I'm not sure," I said with a shrug, neck growing warm. "Must've fallen in there from class or something."

Thankfully, Van thought nothing of it, shrugging. "Huh."

I assumed she'd drop it back in my bag, but she wordlessly tossed it in the bin next to us, making my eyes widen slightly. Well, now I owed Jackie a new lipgloss.

It wasn't until later that day in History class when Van and I were taking our seats behind Shauna and Jackie, as usual, that Van began piecing everything together. Students were still filing into the classroom, Jackie being one of them, but she seemed distracted.

"You find it yet?" Shauna asked with amusement once she spotted the blonde approaching her desk.

Jackie pouted. "No." Then her eyes fell to Van and I hopefully, asking, "Have either of you seen my lipgloss? It's like this big–" She gestured with her fingers as she continued, "–pink, sparkly, literally the only one I wear? I've lost it."

The earth could have swallowed me up there and then and it would've been less painful than enduring the confused glance from Van.

"God, you guys are no help," Jackie grumbled when neither of us replied, myself avoiding Van's questioning gaze as she tried to work it out.

As Jackie returned to her seat, Van kicked my leg beside me, making me groan.

"Why did you have Jackie's lipgloss?" she asked quietly, and I glanced at her quickly before shrugging.

"You don't know it was hers."

Van narrowed her eyes. "It very much is." Then, she added, "You're being weird..."

I scoffed. "You're being weird."

Thankfully, the bell rang again, signalling the start of class, and I was able to avoid any further questions from Van. She wasn't stupid though, and it wouldn't be long before she figured it out.

That same afternoon, I had Science class with Jackie as my partner, so that was when I decided to update her about her precious lip gloss. She was already sat down, scribbling in her notebook, when I pulled out the stool beside her.

"Hey," she greeted with a warm smile, eyes softening in a way that was only reserved for me and still made my heart race a little.

"Hello," I said with a slight smile, sitting beside her. "I come bearing news. The good news is, I know where your lipgloss is. The bad news is, Van threw it out."

She lost her smile, expression contorting into one of confusion. "What?"

So, I briefly explained about the whole lipgloss situation this morning, including Van suspecting something or the other, and finishing with an, "I'm sorry, I'll buy you a new one."

She sighed, disappointed by her trashed lipgloss. "It's okay," she said, before adding, "Y'know, maybe it's time to tell everyone? Then Van wouldn't have to suspect anything."

I was surprised at how certain she sounded, though nodded. "I– yeah. If you want."

She began to smile, honey-coloured eyes meeting mine with a hint of amusement. "If you want."

I mirrored her smile, a mixture of adoration and excitement running through me at the possibility of sharing our relationship.

As much as I could have sat there staring at Jackie all afternoon, we were suddenly interrupted by Van who thought it would be funny to slam her hand on the desk between us, startling us.

"Hey, nerds," she said with a grin, making me roll my eyes as Jackie cracked a smile. "Anyone got some spare goggles?"

I breathed out petulantly as Jackie handed her the goggles, purposely avoiding Van's suspicious eyeballing of us.

Something told me she might know something already.

—

Now that Jackie and I had mentioned telling our friends, we were yet to find the right time. Only days after that, we hadn't had the chance to properly discuss it, but with the way things turned out, we didn't need to.

Van was at soccer practice after school, so I was staying back to study so I could be her ride home. By the time they'd finished, I went out to the field to go get her, seeing her drinking some water with the other girls by the benches.

Naturally, the first girl I noticed was Jackie – she was chatting to Shauna and their teammate, Nat – and she looked adorable in her gym clothes, slightly sweaty and red in the face from practice. Her eyes found mine like a magnet and I couldn't help but smile in her direction, heart fluttering like it always did. She returned my smile before tuning back into her conversation with the others.

"Hey," I greeted Van, elbow bumping hers. "How was practice?"

"Pretty good," she answered, capping her water. "I was amazing as always."

"You wish," Taissa said before I could, walking past with her gym bag but smiling at Van with amusement.

"You're just jealous," Van said knowingly, making Taissa roll her eyes before walking away.

I chuckled and gave Van a disapproving look. "I thought we were making friends at soccer practice, kid?"

"Shut up," Van huffed with a ghost of a smile, shoving me slightly.

I laughed. "Well, I'm ready when you are. You can shower first or–"

"Hey, ladies," Nat suddenly interrupted, approaching us with a mischievous smile, before her eyes settled on me. "Y/L/N. Good to see you."

"Nat," I acknowledge with a smile. "You good?"

"Hell yeah," she said confidently, and Shauna and Jackie approached us as she continued, "How about you? Still breaking noses?"

My cheeks grew warm uncontrollably, the memory of punching Leroy still a little embarrassing when it was brought up. "It was once. Nose, singular. And it was for a valid reason. I don't just start fights for the fun of it."

Van snorted and I shoved her once more, continuing to look at Nat.

"Gotcha," she said with a slow nod. "Hey, I have to ask... you're single, right?"

I almost choked on my spit when she said that, eyes darting between Van, Nat and the tense expression of my girlfriend.

"I– er–" I wasn't sure what to say, since technically nobody knew about Jackie and I yet, but I didn't know if I could share it right now.

"'Course she is," Van answered for me. "Why? You got the hots for my best friend?"

Nat smirked. "Maybe I do."

I was taken aback, since Nat and I had never really talked much before, so where was this coming from?

Jackie, on the other hand, was silently fuming beside Shauna as she glared daggers into the blonde's head.

"I– I'm flattered," I said awkwardly, attempting to fix everything, "but I'm not interested, Nat." There was an uncomfortable pause, which I felt the need to fill, "Not that you're not pretty or anything–"

Jackie's glare was then directed at me and I knew I'd said the wrong thing.

Clearing my throat, I continued, "What I'm trying to say is–"

"Oh, c'mon, it could be fun!" Nat encouraged. "You, me, the skate park you go to that I definitely don't get high in."

Van shrugged, glancing at me. "Could be fun, Y/N."

I furrowed my brows, wondering why she was so on board with the idea of Nat and I going out.

"She doesn't wanna go, so maybe let's just drop it," Jackie suddenly interjected.

"Van's right, Jackie, it could be fun," Shauna said, before nodding at me encouragingly, and now I was outright baffled.

"Yeah, it's not like you're seeing anyone," Van added, looking to me.

Before I could speak, Jackie blurted out, "She is!"

I pursed my lips as I glanced at Jackie's reddening face, both from soccer and her frustration.

Van chuckled. "I think I'd know if my best friend was–"

"She's dating me," Jackie cut her off bluntly. "Y/N is my girlfriend. Okay?!"

I swallowed hard. "That's one way to share it..."

Jackie narrowed her eyes at me, unimpressed, as Van suddenly jumped up with satisfaction.

"I knew it!" she exclaimed, further existing to confuse me. "I knew you guys were dating!"

"You what?" I asked her with raised brows.

"Twenty bucks, please," Nat said with a hand out to Van.

Van sighed and placed a ten dollar bill in Nat's hand, as Shauna did the same. Jackie and I's jaws dropped as we watched the exchange. This was planned?!

"See you around," Nat said with a wink, before leaving the four of us alone.

"You were playing us?!" Jackie asked Shauna with disbelief.

"Van and I had our suspicions, okay?" Shauna admitted. "You two were being super fishy and we waited for you to tell us, but you didn't!"

"Wow," I said with surprise. "How–"

"Manipulative," Jackie finished for me.

"I was gonna say funny," I added, making her stare at me with disapproval.

"You made it so obvious with the lip gloss, y'know," Van pointed out. "And the giggling together in labs? What – did you think we're all blind?"

My cheeks grew warm yet again and I avoided Van's teasing gaze.

"We were actually planning to tell you at some point," Jackie admitted.

"Bit too late," Shauna said playfully. "But look, we're happy for you!"

"Yeah, you guys are cute," Van said with a smile. "How long?"

"Just over a month," I revealed.

Van sighed. "God, you kept me in the dark for that long? Terrible friend."

"Van!"

"I'm kidding," she said with a laugh, before pulling me in for a side hug, to which I shoved her off because she was sweaty. "I'm happy for you, kiddo."

"Shut up," I whined.

"I can't believe you let Nat hit on her when I was stood right here," Jackie complained.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?" Shauna said with a shrug.

Jackie rolled her eyes. "Barely."

Glad they at least knew, I sighed. "Okay, well since that's been cleared up, Van, are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, one sec," she said before going to grab her bag.

"I'll get our stuff," Shauna said to Jackie, before following after Van to grab their bags.

Once Jackie and I were left alone, I stepped forward and took her hands. "Guess that's that."

She sighed. "They're assholes."

I chuckled. "They are. Funny, though."

She scoffed. "Stupid more like." She glanced at me curiously. "You really think Nat is pretty?"

I groaned. "C'mon, Jackie, I was put on the spot! Believe it or not, I've never had to let someone down before. It's not easy."

She narrowed her eyes suspiciously before leaning in close.  "You're lucky you're cute."

"Gee, thanks."

A small smile played on her lips before she leaned in, kissing me briefly. Barely a second passed before Van and Shauna felt the need to make vomiting sounds from behind us, making us pull apart.

"Get a room!" Van shouted as Shauna laughed.

"I regret them knowing," I said instantly.

"Same," Jackie laughed.

[lightlycareless]

i just read ur reader piercing naoya's ear fic and i was wondering can u write smth about naoya finding out reader got their belly button pierced? xx

Hello!!!

Did someone say smut? because that's what we got. I think hehe. I'm still somewhat uncomfortable writing it but you know what they say!! practice makes perfect 🙈🙈🙈 Anyways, thank you so much for your patience and for sending this ask!!!!! 🥺 it took me a while to get an idea of what I wanted to write, but here we are :> I hope its to your liking!

Also, I believe this is the fic anon is referring to :> If not then gee I've written more about piercings that I've ever expected lol.

warnings: smut. MINORS DNI. you get a piercing and decide to... act weird about it. naoya does not like it :)

Happy reading!

How you managed to hide your piercing from his ever-wandering hands is a commendable feat, even after all went down, you still don’t know how you did it.

Though all this could’ve been easily avoided in the first place if you hadn’t convinced yourself to do it after seeing a particular photoshoot and thinking “I can look just as good.”

As well as believing this would further spice up your life with Naoya. Like it wasn’t spiced enough!

But only after you surpass both your embarrassment and heal; unfortunately, the former only growing stronger and stronger upon realizing this was far more than what you bargained for.

You initially try to play it off as being sick whenever he gets too close. Not in the mood, even. “I’m dizzy.” “My head hurts.” “I’m on my period.” Are just a few of the excuses you deployed.

And your loving husband, always the (surprisingly) patient one, takes it, because he supposes that for his ever-willing wife he could allow these exceptions. Thus, right after you reject him, he cuddles up to you and falls asleep.

However, his tolerance quickly ends when understanding this wasn’t to be a 1-week occurrence. But rather, a monthly endeavor that soon turned his everyday into utter punishment.

Naoya frantically attempted to make sense of it all. Think that perhaps the reason behind your distance was because of some unknown issue that troubled your mind; you always tended to keep things to yourself, even if he’s countlessly assured you he could fix all of your problems—he just needs to know them first.

…

But even then… Naoya could not understand how easily you were able to detach from him. Because to him… to do so meant death itself.

The problem wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. Naoya had more than enough means to keep you satisfied however you needed it, and he made sure of that too.

Thus, at the lack of answers, he begins to feel threatened. Intimidated. Replaceable.

And we all know how Naoya gets when feeling such way.

“Princess, you will explain yourself—now.” Naoya demands, his abrupt, towering presence forcing you deeper into the bedroom, nowhere to escape.

“I don’t—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” You gasp, a blatant lie that only served to bury you deeper into your mistakes.

“Oh, no. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about, mochi.”

If you hadn’t transgressed Naoya, you would’ve found his approach very, very inciting.

Unfortunately, even if you wished to go down that path, your dear husband was far too infuriated by your ridiculous behavior to consider anything else that wasn’t confronting you.

“Why are you avoiding me? And don’t even try to get out of this one, I’ve been patient enough.”

You knew this moment was fast approaching; only a matter of time before you ran out of excuses… or patience to abuse.

There’s only so much he’s willing to tolerate before he… well, you don’t want to think about it.

“I’m just… I just— I don’t know how to tell you…” you breathe.

“How to tell me what?”

“Do you promise to not get angry at me?”

“I’m not sure if I can promise that.” He frowns. You swallow.

“…at least not too much?”

Naoya squints his eyes, as if considering it. You knew he wouldn’t, you were in the wrongdoing after all.

“Just don’t judge me, please.” You eventually profess, and after taking one last breath, you reach for your obi and untie it, careful to not reveal too much but just enough to show the bare skin of your abdomen—

And the shiny addition to your navel.

Naoya couldn’t hold back his laughter.

“Is that all, princess?” He chuckles loudly, like you just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard. You do not find it amusing. “Is that the reason why you’ve been avoiding me??”

“Y—yeah I—I guess!” You frown, cheeks burning hot. “Don’t make fun of me, I was really hesitant whether to tell you or not!”

“Really? For this silly little thing?”

“It wasn’t silly to me, Naoya!” you cry.

“Alright, alright—I didn’t mean to upset you.” He says, curiously attempting to reach for your piercing before you smack him away. “Hey!”

You glance away, placing your obi back in place.

“Come on now, you don’t have to hide it from me.” Naoya smirks, stepping closer. “Hey, princess—”

“It’s still healing.” You quietly explain; a partial reasoning behind your dismissal.

“Ah, so you’re telling me you wouldn’t like me to help you?” He enticed, you retreated further into the wall; if possible. “I have more than enough experience with piercings, there’s no one in the estate more qualified than me.”

“Don’t misinterpret my words, you know I didn’t mean... that.” You caution, though he spoke nothing but the truth.

“Is that a yes?” Naoya continues, placing his fingers under your chin and pulling your gaze back to his.

“…only if you don’t make fun of me.” You eventually agree, and he seals the deal with a chaste kiss on your lips, followed by a tight hug that has you whining in pain. “Na—Naoya!”

“Oh, princess, I’m sorry.” Naoya says, quickly releasing you. “You poor thing… is this how it’s been since?”

You nod.

“Well, you’re in good hands now; and luckily for you, I know just the right thing that will ease your pain.”

Had you known Naoya would completely dedicate his time to make sure you weren’t passing any discomfort, then maybe you would’ve told him of your small endeavor from the very beginning.

It just… to see him so enthralled by your impulsive decision, you couldn’t help but wonder how different everything would’ve been if you had decided otherwise.

As well as how much you exaggerated your worries; hadn’t your husband consistently proven how far he’s willing to go just to make you happy?

From whatever craving you desired (but nothing that would hinder your healing process) to the endless kisses he’d place on your navel—as if he weren’t sufficiently hypnotized by your body, your piercing heightened that desire—Naoya was all yours. Completely allured.

But mostly by the rush he got at being the only person to know of the debauchery that hid beneath the pristine, meek and obedient look you carried around the estate; fitting to the wife of the future leader of the Zen’in— the same woman many admire by her gentleness, how you’re his living contrast, his better half; never daring to be as outrageous at he is!

If only they knew the truth.

No. It was better if they didn’t. He’d fervently keep all this enjoyment for himself.

“St—stop, Naoya!” you cry, squirming beneath his touch that roamed across your body, caressing the places where he��d like to taint next, such as your now sensitive nipples, which he’d squeeze and pinch incessantly for you to suffer in the following days.

Or your twitching clit, grazing it with no particular desire outside of tormenting you with pleasure. Remind you who really was in charge of your mere existence.

Yet, nothing compared to the way his cock plunged into your warm, tight walls—choking him so painfully exquisite, Naoya can’t help but moan whenever you do. Keeping your hips steady as he gives you all that he could not these past few months—blinding your sight with stars when bruising that one spot that always has you coming undone, which you desperately grasp whenever possible, wanting to steady that agonizing sensation.

Because as cruelly as your husband teased you, you equally desired to pour out all the desire you bottled up by a silly fear, let him enjoy the gift that was always meant for him. Your role in this marriage.

“It—it hurts—Naoya—!” you whimper, a profession Naoya was quick to interject as a lie given the way your cunt refused to stop milking him.

“Hmmm, it does, doesn’t it?” He breathes against your skin, placing ardent kisses across your cheek down to your neck as his hands reached for one of your nipples once more, giving it a particularly tight pinch that made you squeal.

“N—Naoya—!”

“Would it hurt here too, if you got a piercing?” he ponders curiously, another wave of excitement travelling all the way down to his member, which you felt grow even harder, bigger at the thought. Hips unwavering as if he were attempting to drill the proposition deeper and deeper into you.

Naoya was pretty much depraved when it came to your breasts, his hands or mouth always on them whenever possible; So, with this, you fear your chest will never know peace again.

But it doesn’t frighten you. In fact, you are willing to entertain such an idea. Endure the pain that follows this decision—for him to completely succumb to you.

“Would you do that for me, princess?” Naoya gasps, plummeting faster, stronger into you in that familiar sloppy way that signaled to you he was dangerously close.

You instinctively, as if second nature, wrap your legs around him, keeping him close, right there, followed by the agonizing tightness of you walls that soon make his voice tremble—stopping any silly consideration he might’ve had of spilling his seed anywhere else except where you deserved… though Naoya never entertained otherwise.

“Show how much you truly love me, by—by doing this?” he gasps, firmly shutting his eyes to not urge his release at the sight of your bouncing breasts.

“N—Naoya—!” you gasp, pulling him closer to you and captivating his lips in a heated kiss. Moaning into his mouth as your tongues intertwined with one another. “Ah—Naoya~! I—”

“Ple—Please, Y/N!” He suddenly begins to beg, now delirious with pleasure. “Please—Please do it for me, princess, you don’t know how happy this would make me—how much I wanted this!”

The combination of your devotion, your sweet whines, the tightness of your core, and the eagerness in the markings in his back is his ultimate downfall, just a few more thrusts and the first spurts of his burning seed spill deep within you—ropes of white covering your walls which you welcome almost jealously, as if wasting the smallest drop was the highest sacrilege.

And to a longing mother, it just might—but beneath your desires of a family, you wished to welcome back the husband your actions had unwillingly estranged: his intoxicating scent, the strength he’s amassed throughout years thanks to his strict routine, his burning touch tracing your skin with invisible lines…

But most importantly, his love, which you tightly held onto as he came down from his high, resting on your chest as he lets out a deep sigh, still plugged into you, just as he’d done the past few times in hopes his seed will finally take root. Naoya wishes to be a father too, and the thought always makes your heart flutter.

It’s the look of a man well satisfied. A man that has wholeheartedly committed to you, body and soul…

A husband that deserves to be rewarded, consoled. Urging you to speak coherently for the first time that night and let him know he no longer stands alone.

“I’ll do it.” You say, Naoya snuggles closer to you.

“Hm?”

“The piercing thing. I’ll do it, if that’s what you want.”

“The… oh.” Naoya blinks, moments of his passion suddenly flash back to his mind. Wouldn’t be the first time he’s spoken at the heat of the moment, nor the last.

“Do you really… want me to do that?” you murmur hesitantly. “Get another piercing?”

And for a few seconds, the two remain in complete silence, whether enjoying the intimacy he’s been cruelly deprived from, or considering your words… it didn’t matter. Neither wanted this moment to stop.

It was simply… perfect. Just the two, with each other’s heartbeat to fill the quietness in the room—and the doubts in your mind.

“No.” Naoya eventually confesses, placing a kiss on your skin. “I do not.”

Because as much as the idea enthralled him, he didn’t want to force anything on you. Certainly not for a piece of metal.

“You’re perfect to me like this. With or without piercings.”

Your heart tightens at his words.

“You don’t mind the one I already have, then?” you ask, he laughs. As if it hadn’t just shown you.

“No. Not at all; I didn’t think you could be any hotter, and yet, here you are… proving me wrong, my adorable lava cake.”

You frown at the gross nickname, playfully smacking him on the shoulder.

“Hey! What’s with the aggression?” He jests, but you simply hug him tighter, closer to you. “Is that how you treat the husband that had so lovingly filled you with his seed—"

“Shut up, don’t be crude!” You say, resting your head on his. After a few moments of silence, calming down, you declare: “…I love you.”

Naoya lets out a breathy chuckle, succumbing to your affection moments before his slumber.

“I love you more, my little mochi.”

Oh, how could you ever doubt his affection?

I always suspected Y/N to be more of a tattoo kind of person; idk why, but I think it would complement each other nicely too. Naoya is with the piercings, and you with the tattoo's. We all known which one he'd like.

Also, I will never tire myself of writing Naoya as completely gross with you. Like, the mere thought of you hiding such a simple piercing from him is OOF he loves it. I mean, without the constant pushing him away lol But yeah, watching you walk around in one of those traditional yukatas with your hair all pulled up in the most appropriate way ever, looking to appease the Zen'in only for him to be like:

"Yeah, you see her? No one would suspect my wife has her nipples pierced." IS SUCH a HUGE turn on to him. Maybe you do get them later on, who knows? 😏

Anyways, I hope you liked this small thing I wrote 🫣 I shall continue to strive improving my smut skills, sometimes I get so inspired, sometimes... I don't even know what I'm doing :'(

Well, still; I wish y'all enjoy it. Take care and hope to see you soon ❤️❤️❤️

[she-walks-on-starlight]

You Ruined Me (Do it Again)

a/n: this is my first time posting fic to Tumblr so if I've made any mistakes please let me know so I can learn how to fix them 💖 this was also my first attempt at sevika x reader, I hope y'all enjoy! There are more parts that I can upload if y'all end up liking it

Warnings: drinking alcohol, referenced cheating, smoking, gambling, possessive!sevika, referenced sex (explicit!), sexually explicit teasing.

Summary: Your first night out in a while after leaving your cheating ex does not end how you expected it to...but then what did you expect, going to her club?

Word Count: 1.4k

Read on AO3

18+ | MEN AND MINORS DNI | 18+

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Final

You needed this. It had been too long since you hit up a club and just danced the night away. Work had been a bitch, your last breakup still lingered in the back of your mind, and it was high time that you simply had some fun.

Now, after several way too sugary cocktails that probably had enough booze to kill a small human, you were letting loose on the dance floor. You’d always been able to move your body just right, whenever a beat made you feel a certain way, it was guaranteed to have eyes on you as you swayed your hips and moved your feet.

You were twirling around with your best friend, Jinx, laughing and singing along to the tunes that blared loudly on the speakers all around you. You were having such a good time that you almost didn’t notice the door to the club swing open, an entourage of people swarming in being led by an imposing, hulking woman you knew all too well. Sevika.

Her short hair was tied back into the little ponytail she normally wore, that you used to love to tease her about. She still stuck to her favourite outfits, loose fitting pants with a chunky belt, a tight fitting tank top and the cloak that covered her mechanical arm to stop people from staring. She was all muscle, large hands with thick, talented fingers, solid arms with toned biceps.

Strong thighs that you knew were just perfect for lifting you high in the air and fucking you silly. Shaking your head, you focus on the beat of the song, the vibration of the dancefloor, the heat of the bodies moving wildly all around you. Now was so not the time to be staring at your ex.

Jinx groaned. “Is that who I think it is?”

You shrugged. “You know she has shares in the club. She practically owns it. Just ignore her and keep having a good time!”

Jinx giggled, throwing herself into your arms. “Amen to that, sister!”

You dance some more, for 20 minutes or so, completely ignoring the corner of the club reserved for gambling tables, knowing that’s where Sevika would be. It was getting hotter in the club as it got busier and busier.

You leaned into Jinx. “I’m gonna get a drink, you want one?”

Jinx shook her head, eyeing up a cute blonde girl who was also dancing with her friends. “Nah, I’m good, sparky.”

You giggled at her. “Okay! Happy hunting!”

She shot you a playful glare as you headed to the bar. It was pretty busy, but the bartender here was good, and he made his way through orders quickly. You felt someone sidle up next to you, feeling a pang of annoyance as her order was taken first.

“Whiskey, top shelf. 2 ice cubes.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Of course, it was her. You should’ve known from her size and the sheer heat that was radiating from her. You clamped your thighs together as your body responded automatically to her closeness. Now was not the time to let your pussy do your thinking for you. You stay quiet, hoping she won’t notice you.

Naturally, you’re not that lucky. She double-takes when she realises it’s you. “Y/n? What’re you doing here?”

You huff out an irritated sigh. “Just clubbing, like everyone else.”

The bartender hands Sevika her whiskey but she doesn’t move as you place your order. You hear her snicker when you order a sweet cocktail.

“Some things never change, huh? You still like your drinks to taste like juice.”

You glare at her coolly. “Yet my tastes in other areas have definitely changed.”

Her smile falters, but she soon masks it with a shit-eating smirk. “Oh yeah? So, you’re not totally down bad for me anymore?”

Your hands ball into fists, frustrated that she’d use your pillow talk against you, in such a public setting. You know reacting in any way will just add to her satisfaction, so you breathe deeply and relax your hands, grabbing your drink.

“I was a fool to be ‘down bad’ for you at all. You’re a real asshole, Sevika.”

You’ve lost sight of Jinx, so you find somewhere to sit and sip at your drink, your muscles thanking you for the break. You don’t bother trying to look for Sevika, your eyes find her at the poker tables out of habit. Judging by the large pile of coins at her end of the table, she’s winning. Nothing new there. You finish your drink, pushing your complicated feelings aside. She’d never have a chance again at winning you, that’s for sure.

You’re in the bathroom, applying a new layer of lipstick when she comes in. You stiffen as she enters, brushing past you to go into one of the stalls. Her hand lingers at the small of your back as she passes you. The gesture would seem innocent to most, but you felt the undeniable flutter of your pulse as the heat of her touch tore through you. You focus on the task at hand, steadily applying the dark shade as she comes out of the stall and washes her hand. You feel her eyes on you, roaming over your body in the tight, black dress you decided to wear tonight. It hugged your curves perfectly, kept eyes on your ass and your tits, made you feel powerful when people drooled over you. Just like she used to. There was a time where you would never have made it to the club at all wearing a dress like this. Sevika used to just quite literally tear them off you.

“It’s a beautiful dress.”

Her voice is low and husky. You try not to think about it, or let it replay in your head. “Thank you.”

You put your lipstick back in your purse. She smirks at you. “It’d look better on my bedroom fl-”

Without thinking, you turn and put a hand against her mouth. “Do not finish that sentence, dear god.”

You’ve made your first mistake. She reaches towards your face, and you stupidly let her, transfixed by her as you always have been, like a moth to a flame. A moth that really, really likes the feeling of being burnt.

That was your second mistake.

She steps into your space, her hand caressing your jaw. Your knees feel like they could buckle any second.

“Oh, princess, having trouble colouring within the lines again? Here, let me help…”

Her fingers trace your bottom lip, wiping away a smudge of lipstick. Your eyes flutter close, and your lips part, wanting, waiting…then you feel her.

She crashes into you like a starved animal, her lips devouring yours as she kisses you like you’re her oxygen. You can’t help yourself, you know you shouldn’t let this happen, after everything that happened between you, but it just feels so damn good.

It’s rough, it’s messy and it’s just so…Sevika.

Her body presses into you, and you moan as her thigh brushes against your core. She doesn’t waste the opportunity, her tongue invading your mouth, tasting you. She moans into your mouth when she does, which sets your cunt alight. Your need is growing, you know that you’ll be ruining your panties with how slick your pussy is getting but you care less and less the more Sevika kisses you, nipping roughly at your lower lip, her thigh rubbing against you. She knows how to work you up, after all she used to be the expert. Her hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, your face, your neck, and your ass. She loves your firm, little ass, palming it roughly, admiring how it fits perfectly in her hands. She tries not to think about how it almost belongs in her hands.

Sevika breathes out a soft “Huh” then you’re left in the cold as she moves her warm body away from you. A needy whine escapes your throat, and Sevika chuckles but you see no laughter in her sharp, grey eyes. You reach for her, but she dodges away, smirking at your confused, searching eyes.

“Not down bad for me at all, huh princess?”

Then she’s gone, leaving you panting and pissed out of your goddamn mind. She was playing with you, because that’s what she does best. You bruised her ego earlier at the bar, and that was her taking her revenge. Because why else would she kiss you like that, unless she wanted to prove that she could still make you squirm?

[guavi]

I made Aziraphale’s waistcoat about two months ago and boy it was a journey

Rant about the process under cut!

First thing to do was pick a fabric. For the visible fabric on the front and collar, I knew I definitely wanted to use something piled. I also did not want to use a synthetic fabric, which would have been cheaper but miserable to wear. I settled on cotton velveteen which would be more comfortable, slightly cheaper and easier to work with than silk velvet, and generally less shiny than silk. I was able to order some beautiful cotton velveteen from someone local.

Unfortunately it was not even in the same ballpark as the color I needed. This was due to a combination of reasons including the lighting in the photos they had (they were online only and didn’t have a storefront I could walk into), piled fabric in general being nigh impossible to accurately photograph the color of, and probably also some variations between dye batches. This is why we buy swatches when we can, folks.

The fabric itself was absolutely lovely though. So. No biggie I’ll just dye this myself what could go wrong

The dark brown here is after the first dye; the scrap laying on top on the right is the original color; the beige coat underneath for color reference. Note that even the colors in this picture looked quite different from irl. I did dip a scrap in first to check the color, but because Dyeing Is Weird and also I made some mistakes the final dye did not end up the same. I can write several more paragraphs on why this probably happened. We’d be here for a while.

But maybe it’ll be fine right? The color’s not exact but not offensive, maybe I’ll just start sewing and it won’t bother me that much.

Here’s a bit of that process, where you can see the interior of the waistcoat with interlining and twill tape, following some 19th century construction techniques. Lots of tedious but relaxing hand sewing. (Also, real pockets!)

I chose broadcloth for the interlining rather than a more typical canvas, because I wanted a more soft and aged look rather than crisp and new.

(I made another mistake here using cotton twill tape straight off the roll, which shrunk later in the process. You can see this later in how the edges pucker a bit. Oops. Oh well.)

(I also have no other photos of this stage because I went into the hyperfocus zone and forgot about everything except the task in front of me)

Turns out I was not ok with the color. It bothered me a lot.

So I tried to bleach it a tad to lighten the color, but Bleaching Is Also Weird and doesn’t always give you back the same color but lighter.

I got back something extremely orange tones, which bothered me even more. Had a minor breakdown until reboot papped me and helped me talk through how to fix this.

This ended up going through another round of light bleaching, and two rounds of dyeing over with blue to cancel out the orange. Finally I got something I was happy with!

You can very clearly see the puckering here caused by the shrinking tape..thankfully a good steaming was able to get rid of the worst of it.

The color is also slightly uneven if you look very closely, because rounds of the dyeing/bleaching happened after it was sewn together rather than as fabric pieces. Oh well. I can chalk this up to an “aged” look.

Time to finish it off with some buttons and 19th century style hand-worked buttonholes! The buttons aren’t accurate but I just went for ones that were the right size and vibes.

Last step was to add the wear around the buttons, hem, and collar. I’m sure there’s some faster way to do this, but I did it with a pair of eyebrow tweezers to pluck out the pile and a bit of sandpaper to finish off.

And that’s it! For the waistcoat at least. I also made the outer coat, the bow tie, and the blue shirt because I couldn’t find one for purchase that fit me. I still need to make other things. But that’s for another time.

[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

My Queen Chapter 2

Steve Rogers is the newly inherited Duke of Brooklyn, struggling to fix the mistakes of his parents while enduring an overbearing, matchmaking mother.  He has no intention of anything romantic in his future, but will a forced love connection with the Queen change his mind?

Warnings: smut, slight domestic violence, minor character death

Previous chapter Next chapter

Friday came and Steve was fuming.  His mother was constantly hovering nearby, fussing with his collar as he left his room and chattering at him about royal protocol as he walked towards the front door.  “You’ve grown so much since you last went to an event, you’re so handsome!  I’m sure she’ll love you–”

“Ma,” Steve said warningly.  

Sarah put her hands up in surrender.  “Okay okay.  Well good luck my dear,” she said as he walked to the car pulling up for him.  The driver quickly opened the door and he settled into the seat.  He thanked the driver and nodded to his mother as the door shut then sighed heavily when they took off towards the palace.  He had not been to any royal events in years, due to his embarrassment.  His mother was right, he had grown physically over the years, so he was sure Queen Y/N wouldn’t even recognize him from the last time she saw him.  He probably wouldn’t recognize her either.  They had barely become adults the last he saw her, and it wasn’t like they were ever properly friends, just acquaintances.

When they pulled up to the palace the door was opened for him again and he was led inside and through some hallways until they reached a large sunroom with a table prepared with two places settings.  Steve marveled at the almost fully-windowed room.  There were sun catchers placed in the awnings above him, little iridescent mobiles tinkling against each other from the breeze of an opened window and casting rainbow prisms along the adjacent wall and floor.  There were scores of plants lining the long window sill with a section in one corner covered by a long cushion and a blanket folded up next to it with a book sat atop.  He was left to wait for her and in the silence he strode up to the window seat and picked up the book.  Steve didn’t recognize the title, “Beauty” by Robin McKinley, but read the synopsis and thought it interesting.  A fantasy reader, he mused.  He set the book down and walked along the window inspecting the plants.

“Rogers,” a voice gruffed behind him.

Steve turned and then smiled.  “Wilson.”

Sam laughed and approached him, giving him a long hug.  “It’s been a while.”

“It has, how are you?” Steve asked as he clapped Sam’s shoulder.

“Well, thank you.  I’m sorry to hear about your father.  I would have come to the funeral–”

“Please, I know you were out of the country with Her Majesty.  It’s fine,” Steve waved away his concern.  “We got her card.  All is well.”

“Hm.  So…your mother…” Sam raised an eyebrow at him.

Steve sighed again, hanging his head.  “I know, don’t get me started.”

Sam laughed again.  “It’s alright, Her Majesty is well aware of how Sarah is.  You have nothing to be worried about.”  Steve gave him a small appreciative smile.  “Speaking of, she’ll be here in just a moment.  I just wanted to come say hello before I’m dismissed.”

“And now you’re free to go,” Y/N walked through the door just then, her lady’s maids following behind and distracting her so her eyes were turned away looking at the fabric they were showing her.

“Ah, excuse me,” Sam gave Steve a head bow then turned to Y/N and bowed to her.  

���Oh, shoo, all of you!” Y/N snapped, pushing away the fabric and waving Sam away, who quickly pushed the lady’s maids out the door and closed it behind him.  “Ugh, I’m sorry, Your Grace, I–” Y/N finally looked at him and paused, her eyes slightly widening.

“Your Majesty,” Steve walked forward, bowing to her.  Y/N automatically gave him a small curtsy and gave him her hand which he took and kissed her knuckles lightly before releasing it and standing straight.  “Thank you for your card.  We were most appreciative of your condolences.”

“Of course,” Y/N said, giving him a polite smile.  She tried not to ogle him.  Steve had grown over a foot, gained a lot of muscle and had become incredibly handsome since she’d last seen him.  He was no longer the scrawny, sickly boy she’d met years before.  He sported a slightly longer haircut and a clean cut full beard, making him look rugged but put together.  “Shall we?” she gestured to the table.

“Yes,” Steve said and held out a chair for her.  She thanked him as she sat and he walked around the small table to the other chair facing her.  Once he was sat Y/N picked up a small bell and rang it, resulting in a few maids and footmen bringing out plates of food and drinks.  As they placed it all down in front of them she thanked each of them with a smile before dismissing them.

“So, long time no see,” Y/N ventured starting the conversation as she put her napkin in her lap.

Steve huffed a laugh as he did the same.  “Yeah, I uh…” Y/N watched him as she piled her plate with food from the dishes in front of her.  He snorted as he looked away.  “I know I should apologize for not being social, but I won’t.”

Y/N smiled widely.  “You have nothing to apologize for.  Being antisocial is not a crime.”

“Tell that to my mother,” Steve mumbled.  Y/N laughed at his deadpan tone.  Steve seemed surprised at her laughter and a wider smile lit up his face.  

“Yes, she is…tenacious,” Y/N said, hiding her mirthful smile behind her teacup while she took a sip, giving him a playful glance.

Steve smirked.  “I feel like I need to apologize for her, though.  I do not condone such behavior,” the crease between his eyebrows returned.  Y/N wanted to run her finger down that crease to help him relax.  “My parents sent you letters asking for increases.  That was not acceptable and you were right to deny them.”

Y/N felt for him.  His embarrassment was palpable, and she could tell he didn’t particularly want to be at this lunch date.  She sighed, setting her cutlery down as she leaned back in her chair.  Steve was surprised again at her change in demeanor.

“May I speak frankly with you, Steve?”  Y/N cocked an eyebrow at him.  Steve nodded warily.  “As your mother may have told you, I’m looking for a husband.” Steve’s eyes narrowed at her.  “But I’m not.  My advisors are.  I’m turning 33 this year and they have decided that means I’m becoming an old spinster.  They’re threatening a Parliamentary takeover if I do not secure a partner to help me create an heir soon.  And since our Parliament is full of imbeciles, I’m afraid of what that could mean for our country.” She looked away from him and out the window, watching the hummingbirds at the feeder outside.  “I do not need a husband to rule.  This is the 21st century, for fuck’s sake.”  

Steve couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up his throat at her cursing.  Y/N laughed with him, shaking her head.  “I can tell you are embarrassed by your parents’ behaviors, believe me I know what that’s like, and now you have quite a load on your shoulders to bear when it comes to securing you and your mother’s futures.  A union with me would be highly advantageous to you.”  She leaned up against the table with her arms, looking at him conspiratorially.  “The suitors my advisors have been finding for me have been as idiotic as they are.”  Steve snorted at her candor.  “So when Sam said you were coming for lunch, I knew it was the work of your mother, but I thought it would be interesting to see how it goes, since I remembered you as a kind but quiet boy.  Now you’ve grown into a full-fledged man, and strikingly handsome if I do say so myself,” she smirked at him.  Steve blushed at her compliment.  “I don’t like playing games and I don’t like wasting my time.  If you do not wish to pursue anything romantic of any kind with me, please say so now, so I may know how to proceed with this lunch.”

Steve gawked at her.  Y/N had grown into quite the impressive woman, not just because she was the Queen, but also because of her tenacity and passion in governing the country.  She had made leaps and bounds beyond what her predecessors had been able to accomplish within just 15 years of her reign and made a reputation for herself as a blunt but fair ruler.  She was very attractive, he’d always thought so, but even more so now as she aged and grew into herself and her own personality.  He found her incredibly alluring and loved that she was straight forward with him.  

“To be honest, no, I wasn’t planning to pursue anything romantic,” Steve decided to be honest.  

Y/N nodded but didn’t look hurt or embarrassed.  “I appreciate your honesty.”

“Not because of anything to do with you personally!  Just because I have not wanted the same relationship I’ve seen my parents or others in nobility with arranged or advantageous marriages have,” he paused, trying to find the right words.  She nodded.  “But I do find you…quite charming.”

Y/N giggled at him.  “Charming?  I don’t think I’ve ever been called charming before.”

“Really?” Steve said, genuinely surprised.  

“Perhaps some polite euphemisms that refer to my blunt nature…sometimes intimidating,” she trailed off.

“That’s what makes you charming,” Steve then copied her stance and leaned forward on the table.  “Alluring.”

“Alluring?” Y/N’s eyebrows raised high.  “My goodness Steve, are you trying to make me blush?”

“Maybe,” Steve smirked at her.  He felt himself getting more comfortable with flirting.  “It does bring such a pretty color to your face.”

Y/N’s eyes widened as she did blush that time.  She couldn’t hold his gaze and quickly looked down at her food.  “Thank you,” she muttered, giving him a quick glance.

“Are you not used to receiving compliments, Your Majesty?” Steve teased her.

“Y/N, please.  And I receive plenty of compliments, but they're usually from people trying to get something from me,” Y/N answered honestly.  “They're also not usually coming from such a pretty face.”

Steve blushed deeply, having to look away from her this time and fight the smile on his face.  “Pretty, am I?” he laughed.

“Ridiculously,” Y/N laughed with him.  They stared at each other for another moment.

“Would you like to go on a date with me?” Steve said hopefully.

Y/N gave him a lopsided smile.  “Yes.”

The rest of lunch was them eating and getting to know each other better.  By the time they had finished their plates and the conversation began to wind down, the sun had moved in the sky, casting shadows into the sunroom as the afternoon wore on.  A knock came at the door, interrupting Y/N in a story about Sam, who walked through the door.

“Speak of the devil,” Steve laughed.

Sam gave them both a disapproving look then turned to Y/N.  “Your Majesty, your meeting with the Prime Minister?”

“Ugh,” Y/N rolled her eyes dramatically, wiping her hands and her mouth on her napkin then standing.  Steve quickly stood with her.  “I’m sorry to cut this short, Steve–”

“Short?  You’ve been talking for three hours!” Sam said incredulously.  Y/N’s eyebrows raised at him and he shut his mouth and looked down.  Steve chuckled.

“As I was saying, thank you for coming to lunch, Steve,” Y/N turned back to him and lifted her hand.  He quickly took it and kissed her knuckles again.  Instead of dropping her hand he decided to be bold and pulled her hand, making her step towards him.  He then dipped his head and kissed her cheek, making her inhale sharply, her fingers grasping his hand tightly.

“It was my pleasure, Y/N,” Steve said quietly next to her ear.  She looked up at him with wide eyes, her mouth slightly open.  “I’ll call you about that date.”

“I look forward to it,” Y/N said politely, but there was a hunger in her eyes.

Steve smiled and bowed to her before walking toward the door, Sam staring at him wide-eyed as he followed him out.  Once they were out of earshot Sam pushed him, making him trip forward a bit.  “What the hell?” Steve scoffed at him.

“What was that?” Sam chastised him.  “You can’t kiss her face!  Or call her by her first name!” 

“Well I just did,” Steve smiled.  “We have a date.”

“A date?” Sam whisper-yelled at him.  “How?  She hasn’t wanted to date anyone…ever!”

“Guess I’m a pretty good flirt,” Steve shrugged.  Sam led him back to the front doors, the car already waiting for him.  “Hey, what’s her favorite flower?”

Sam gave him an unimpressed look.  “Sunflowers.  Why?”

“Just checking,” Steve said, clapping Sam’s shoulder before getting in the car.  His mother would never let him live this down.

[furiousgoldfish]

Hello, so I checked the checklist thing and I realized that the things I experienced aren’t normal but I also don’t think my parents do this intentionally. I think that this is just the only way they know how to do things, like they just don’t know anything else. Neither of them had particularly good parents so I just don’t think they realize that some of the things they do aren’t good. They try their best to be supportive and stuff but they do control some of my things and hit me when I do bad things, I’m a minor btw. I think that since they grew up with that they think it’s normal.

Yeah I get what you're saying! I felt these exact same things as a minor, and could see very well that from the perspective of my parents, they are doing what they think is correct, and it's how they've been taught, and of course there's no way for them to know they're doing damage or neglecting you because this is all they know.

However, from an adult standpoint, I know that parents are responsible for taking care of their children, and that neglect, ignoring issues, or particularly hateful and cruel behaviour is very obviously, not a mistake or just parents 'not knowing how to do any better'. They know how to treat other adults as human beings. They know to be polite and sensitive with their boss, with people they're trying to impress. They know to be kind to their guests and relatives they want to be in good graces of. They know how to take care of themselves and give themselves the attention and care they want, and even get other people to do it.

While it's impossible for children to know better than they've been taught, adults absolutely know better, and you know, even if nobody ever taught them directly, they could have, picked up a book on parenting! They could have shown interest in gentle parenting or looked it up, they could have researched all possible illnesses and signs of trauma and distress on their child - btw I did all of those things, even not planning to have children, I read those books, I researched those things, just for a mere chance that one day I end up caring for a child. It's not out of this world to expect parents to give a shit about learning how to parent! To just repeat whatever their parents did to them (which they often complain was so tough and cruel and hard on them) is an excuse to be willfully neglectful, willfully abusive.

When you're a kid, you're convinced that you're doing a perfect job of hiding just how alone, sad, scared, upset and traumatized you are, but to an adult it's pretty obvious, you're not really capable of hiding it that well. And it begs the question - why do kids even hide it, why do they conceal their fear and pain? The answer is, because they've been trained to, because they've been punished for expressing that same pain in the past, because they've been humiliated, hurt, ignored or attacked for it. So the mere fact that you are concealing how their parenting is affecting you, proves that they did something to compel you to hide, to not bother them with your needs and fears anymore, they don't want to be responsible for taking care of it, for being your parents.

I know I made a lot of assumptions here, and I'm sorry if this is all completely out of the mark! It's just that I could have written this ask myself as a minor, and I thought these exact things, and then later on it turned out I've been groomed to think like this, and to not see abuse or recognize it at any cost. If it feels dangerous or wrong to acknowledge the abuse, or to hold your parents accountable for it, you can just ignore this for now, and not think about it. It is sometimes, dangerous for minors to be aware, or to try to call it out, and if that's your case, I support you to just survive the best you can, believing in whatever brings you the most comfort. Because this is not your responsibility to fix, this is not your fault, this is not shameful for you, or a sign that something is wrong with you, you are fine, you're doing exactly what you're supposed to, you're surviving. Keep holding on.

[dear-ao3]

Re your RB cursed second seat post, just wanted to add a few things and make a couple of corrections because this stuff really does add to the uh... flavour

First, while I know it's not entirely relevant, the whole Racing Point driver swap was SO MUCH more dramatic because Lance Stroll and Esteban Ocon are like. Besties. Like BFF friends forever since childhood. Poor son of mechanic and rolling in cash son of billionaire true friendship story. Esteban was fired in favour of his best friend, by his BEST FRIEND'S DAD. PEAK drama. They're still besties, bee tee dubs, because Esteban only makes enemies with his teammates.

F1 Invisible Moustache Twirling Supervillain Christian Horner also has a history of 'we're fully supportive [x driver] to be the best they can be and have no intention of changing our driver line up' and then oops, sorry. We lied. Like... five minutes later. Happened to Gasly, happened to Albon, and the former is currently where we're at with Checo. Christian has admitted that they were too hasty with Albon but oh dear how sad too bad boy's thriving now oopsie doopsie.

Also not forgetting that while Daniel was twiddling his thumbs waiting for his metacarpal to heal, Liam Lawson, the AT and RB reserve, got the highest placing position for the Alpha Tauri team this season (up until Mexico, anyway) while driving in Daniel's seat, and also threw himself into the RB second driver conversation.

And a couple of minor corrections:

DR didn't just leave RB because of the unreliability, it was more about being pushed aside for Golden Child Max Verstappen (affectionate, maybe slightly derogatory), which of course he knows all about because DR did the same thing to Vettel back in 2014. Who also had experience in that field because you could argue the cursed seat actually started with Mark Webber vs Seb Vettel back in like... 2010

Honda has been in F1 before. They sold to Brawn GP for the princely sum of one euro symbolic cash when they were going under, because Ross Brawn knew they'd built a MEGA car and couldn't bear to see them not run it for the 2009 season. Brawn GP won that year, it was Jenson Button's one and only championship win.

F1 drivers can't really go back to F2. If you've won it before, you can't compete again, but it's a feeder series so there's no way some ex-f1 driver is ever gonna be in F2 (or any of the lower formulas) because it's specifically for young talent. IDK maybe you meant Formula E? They also often go to WEC or IndyCar. Even rallying.

RB didn't give Checo another car at Suzuka he went out in the same car after they fixed it up enough for it to drive around one lap. Worth noting he was like 32 laps behind by this point (IDR the exact number but it was LORGE). spare cars haven't been a thing in F1 since 2008

Finally, the Fernando and Charles rumours are so fucking funny ain't no way either of them are gonna go to RB only to be a second to Max. I can see Carlos doing it though, trying for the grand return a-la DR. He's just Like ThatTM (affectionate, again also slightly derogatory). They've also been hardcore courting Lando Norris, who's way too smart and aware of his mental health to put himself into that depression spiral.

ANYWAY this isn't intended to be a big GOTCHA i just wanted to, as I said, add some extra flavour because F1 is so much more insane than anyone who doesn't follow it can POSSIBLY comprehend. Thanks for the post, I love seeing people explain the bonkers bullshittery.

yes yes thank you for pointing out all my mistakes and all that i j ew i was going to be getting Peer Reviewed (again, tumblr deleted my damn post so the first version was more accurate but i was pissed and i was also 1am so…) but yes. i am also new here in terms of the f1 drama. but yes it’s totally positively bonkers do you guys See now why fandom people are attracted to it???

[headfulloflettuce]

The Human Who Fooled All of Prythian

26. Toxic Tea

Note: I edited a couple chapters for grammar. Although I always edit before posting I don’t always catch my mistakes, so you may see some very minor changes. I also changed the ‘Oh my God’ quote in the summary, and subsequent chapter, to ‘By the Mother’ because I want to be consistent with the fae using appropriate phrases to differentiate them from the humans.

I also realized that in Chapter 8 - The Hunt, Calypso is referred to as Tatianna several times. I have fixed this now and she is addressed appropriately as Lady Calypso. I apologize for the discrepancy. 

“What do you want to do first? I was thinking we can grab lunch and then meet the critters I mentioned last time.”

“That sounds like a pan to me.” Cosette said, pulling off her cloak, following Briar down the hallway of the palace.

I still cannot orient myself in this place. How this woman knew where she was going was beyond me.

Cosette couldn’t help the slight feeling of envy as she looked at Briar’s clothes. A detailed blouse accompanied by a warm skirt that went down to her knees.

I bet just those boots alone could fund the renovations for our second floor in the perfumery.

She shook her head.

Stop it Cosette. What are you even thinking about? Wanting nice things is great and all but this is your friend.

‘Friend’.

The term felt weird to Cosette when she looked at Briar but she couldn’t quite place why.

“Briar, Cosette, what are you two doing here?” Viviane approached the duo, a servant and a modestly dressed fae behind her. The Lady of Winter wore a silvery blue dress with a low slit, the top of which had various designs of snowflakes and swirls that faded into the dark fabric at the bottom. Her arms were carefully wrapped around a small bundle.

“I invited Cosette to hang out, remember?” Briar walked over to Viviane, giving the bundle a small kiss, “I am going to show her the barn with the retired animals.”

“Oh, but you have your etiquette class right now.” Viviane’s expression shifted to one of worry.

“I do? But I was certain that I rescheduled it.”

“It seems I must have missed a memo.” the modestly dressed fae spoke up.

“Well, that is quite unfortunate. I apologize that you came all the way out here.” Viviane gave the teacher a hesitant, but dismissive nod.

“It’s no problem really.” the tutor sighed, giving the Lady of Winter a smile.

Briar glanced nervously between the two faes, uncomfortable with the situation.

“W-Wait.” Briar said, turning to Cosette, “Would it be alright if I did the class, and then we hung out? It only lasts an hour and a half.”

“Yeah, sure, it’s no problem.” Cosette nodded.

Viviane gave Cosette an appreciative smile, “I am so sorry about all this.”

“No, it’s alright. Accidents happen. I can wait a bit.”

Lord knows how many times I messed up my schedule back on Earth.

The group, led by Viviane and the tutor, entered a room further down the hallway which was cleared of most common decorations typically present in a Winter Court’s palace room. The only things that remained were two tables, one in the center of the room and the other next to a large book cabinet.

Viviane sat down in one of the seats beside the cabinet, gesturing for Cosette to do the same. Meanwhile, Briar approached the table in the center, where the tutor began her lecture, showing Briar the proper way of bowing depending on the status of the fae she was encountering. Cosette watched as Briar imitated the movements of the tutor, while Viviane watched Cosette with a curious expression.

Cosette quickly turned her attention back to the ruler before her. Now that she was up close, Cosette could see the little child wrapped up in the blanket, resting in Viviane’s arms.

Oh, she's adorable.

“Congratulations Lady of Winter on the birth of your child.”

News spread across the court fast about Lumi. Every faerie on the street was talking about her, and messengers had been sent out to the more distant territories to relay the news of her birth personally. 

According to the book Cosette had been studying, in all courts it was traditional to hold a welcoming ceremony for the child of a ruler soon after their birth.

“Thank you Cosette, and please, call me Viviane in such an informal setting.”

Cosette nodded, surprised Viviane would permit something like that.

I am definitely not going to call you by your first name ma’am.

“Would you like to hold her?”

“Pardon?”

“Here.” Viviane stood up, walking over to Cosette’s seat, gently holding the baby out for her to take.

Ophelia gave me a whole lecture about how territorial fae parents were over their children when they were first born, and Viviane is just giving me hers to hold?

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“Yes, it is.” Viviane tried to ease Cosette’s worries, “I am giving you permission Cosette. If I truly didn’t trust you or couldn’t control my instincts I wouldn’t be doing this.”

But can you truly control yourself?

Viviane laughed at the unspoken question, placing the babe into Cosette’s hands, “I promise you Cosette that I have good self control, I have had centuries to practice after all.”

Cosette held the baby, looking down at her cute little nose and small fingers. She gently reached down to hold Lumi’s hand.

“She’s so cute.” Cosette smiled as Lumi squeezed her finger with her hand, “A mighty grip on this one.”

“She’ll be beating Kallias in thumb wars soon.”

Cosette laughed quietly so as not to disturb Lumi.

The second exercise the teacher had Briar practice was walking. She was forced to pace back and forth across the room in heels, a book balancing on her head. Every once in a while the instructor would correct her posture. 

Guess Ophelia’s training for me wasn’t far off what actual fae tutors did. Though, in my case I had no book; I just fell into the snow if I held myself the wrong way. 

Suddenly Lumi’s face soured and she let go of Cosette’s finger. What came next was an ear piercing wail.

Cosette panicked.

“No, no. Shh, shh, it’s okay.” she tried to soothe the child but it only made Lumi cry louder.

“Oh, she’s a fussy baby, don’t mind her.” Viviane took Lumi away from Cosette, holding her close, carefully bouncing her up and down.

Cosette watched as the child stopped crying, her shrieks settling into calm coos.

“You just aren’t used to Cosette yet, isn’t that right?” Viviane sat back down, gently stroking Lumi’s head, the baby snuggling close to her mother.

“Are you planning a welcoming ceremony for her?” Cosette picked up the conversation again.

“Yes, we’re currently working on the preparations but we’re not in a rush. She’s still so small after all, I don’t want to overwhelm her with a bunch of guests.”

At least the whole affair was kept inside the court. The baby wouldn’t have to deal with a bunch of High Lords trying to coddle it, just the neighborhood politicians trying to kiss up to her parents. 

Wonder which was worse?

Glancing at the cabinet they were sitting by, Cosette could read the titles of various textbooks: ‘A Lady’s Guide to Proper Behavior’, ‘Politics and Tea: A Partnership’, ‘The History of Winter Court’s Trade’.

Vviane followed her gaze.

“Do you read a lot, Cosette?”

“A bit. I have been trying to read before going to bed each night. Ophelia got me a book about Prythian’s history.”

“Is it treating you well?”

“Yes, it’s quite interesting. There is so much I still have to learn about all the different courts. Despite the similarities between Prythian and the Faerie Realms the differences are numerous.” Cosette said.

“If you would like, you may borrow some of these texts.”

“Really?” Cosette perked up.

“Of course.” Viviane smiled sweetly, “It would be my pleasure.” she opened up the cabinet, permitting Cosette to pick out the books she wanted.

This was a definite win.

Firstly, because it would help Cosette understand Winter Court better, but also because it was another chance at potentially finding a clue to how to get home.

Getting access to Kallias’s and Viviane’s library would be ideal, but I can settle for this.

“You’re holding it wrong.” the tutor’s voice rang out, making Cosette snap to attention and almost drop the book she was holding, “Try again.”

Briar nodded, her eyes vacant as she tried to pick up the tea cup again.

“Adjust your third finger. How many times do I need to remind you?”

“Sorry…” Briar muttered, quickly trying to fix her grip.

‘Tsk, tsk, tsk, dear, are you a savage? Where are your manners? Do you not know how to hold a cup properly?’

‘Wrong posture dear. You humans really are quite stupid.’

‘You should be grateful darling that I am bothering with your manners. You would look like a complete fool otherwise. Now try again.’

Cosette gritted her teeth at the reminder, disdain swirling in her guts at the memory. She got up and approached the center table, picking up a cup as well.

“Like this?” Cosette asked.

“No, you need to position your fingers like this.”

“Hm, like this?”

“No.” the tutor was beginning to sound upset.

Good. I am doing the worst I can.

Briar looked a bit relieved, the teacher’s annoyance being directed at another subject.

“How about this?”

“Better, but still subpar.”

“Briar, why don’t you try again?” Cosette smiled at the black haired girl.

“Right…”

The tutor’s tone was exasperated as she started “Briar, you’re-”

“Briar, try to move your fourth finger over slightly.” Cosette interrupted.

Forgive me Viviane for bossing around a tutor you hired, but I cannot in my good conscience stand by.

Briar blinked.

“Your third finger has no space in the place you’re trying to put it. Move your fourth finger a bit.”

Briar smiled appreciatively at the correction, quickly readjusting her fingers.

“Hmpf…better.” the tutor admitted begrudgingly, continuing her lecture at Briar about tea cups and public gatherings.

Cosette remained standing by her side, keeping Briar company.

In retrospect, it seemed rude to just sit to the side while she practiced. If we had waited in a separate room that would have been fine. However, sitting tauntingly right in front of Briar was just mean.

Viviane smiled as the two girls practiced under the tutor’s instruction, her expression unreadable besides the faux happiness she had put forth. 

Not that either of them was paying enough attention to notice the mischievous glee that the Lady of Winter had expertly covered.

“Thank you for the lesson.” Briar happily pulled off the heels.

“I will see you next week.” the tutor bowed to Viviane before leaving.

“Hm, since I had the class I am not sure if we have enough time for both lunch and visiting the critters.” Briar put on her warm boots again, “What do you want to do Cosette?”

“How about we visit the barn? We can have lunch together another time.”

“Okay!”

“Cosette, before you go.” Viviane stood up, carefully giving Lumi to her personal servant, “I wanted to invite you to a tea party I am hosting next week.”

“A tea party?” Cosette didn’t like the way her voice pitched in response to such news.

Control your nerves woman! Steel them!

“Yes, it’s just me and my close friends so please don’t feel nervous. It’s meant to be somewhat casual.”

That makes me more nervous.

Viviane passed Cosette a letter, “Bring this as evidence of your attendance.”

Curiosity getting the better of her, Cosette decided to ask, “Is there a particular reason why you give me a formal letter approving entry for this, but when I visit Briar I need no documents?”

Aquilo did the same when he invited me and Ophelia over but there I thought it was given since we didn’t have a set date at which to visit the palace.

“It’s a formal event, so there must be proper documentation. Whenever you visit Briar the guards are informed ahead of time so security is still maintained.”

“I see.” Cosette put the letter away, “I greatly appreciate your invitation Lady of Winter. You can expect me to be in attendance.”

“Wonderful.” Viviane clapped her hands together.

“Come on, let’s go or we’ll lose even more time!” Briar grabbed Cosette, dragging her away.

It is nice that there are no extra steps to seeing Briar. It made the whole ordeal feel more familiar. Like I was hanging out with classmates back in college. Except the classmate was the unofficial child of two monarchs.

Some really casual stuff.

The two walked down to the training area of the palace, soldiers greeting Briar happily as she practically ran to the stable-like building. 

“Welcome!” Briar pulled the large doors open to reveal a hay-filled wooden interior. Horses, foxes and even a couple large white bears were resting inside.

“Is it not dangerous to keep foxes and horses next to the bears?”

“They train the bears to not eat the horses or foxes to ensure that military or diplomatic missions are carried out without problems.” Briar said, kneeling to pet Snow, who happily bound over to them.

“Do the foxes often work with the bears?” Cosette knelt with Briar, giving Snow some pats. The fox immediately took advantage of the opportunity and rolled onto its back, exposing its belly. Cosette obliged, giving the animal its well deserved belly rubs.

“Not too often but since foxes are used as message carriers they need to pass through the forests that bears patrol without getting harmed.” Briar explained, proud to be able to provide an answer.

“Why is Snow retired again?” Cosette petted the fox behind the ears, earning a purr.

The fox is clearly bursting with energy. It seemed a shame to keep her here instead of out on the field.

“Aquilo said she suffered a leg injury when delivering a letter towards the end of Amarantha's reign. One of her beasts got to her but she still made it to Viviane which allowed her to ensure that Amarantha couldn’t locate the remaining Winter fae in the court. She has a lot of energy but can’t run for long periods now.”

Cosette nodded, eventually standing up, brushing off the hay that stuck to her clothes. Snow yipped in annoyance, turning back to Briar to receive her rightfully owed affection.

While Briar hugged the friendly fox, Cosette walked further into the stables, gazing in wonder at the horses resting in their stalls. They reminded her of yakutian horses, extremely fluffy and large.

They gazed at her with their black round eyes, their white fur and hair clearly well taken care of.

I can’t believe a horse looks more well groomed than me.

One of the horses tilted its head.

Cosette replicated the motion.

You’re prettier and fluffier than Autumn Court’s horses. 

The horse snorted.

“That used to be Viviane’s horse but it got injured during the attack on Winter Court by Hybern’s soldiers.” Briar approached the blonde, carrying Snow in her hands.

The fox hopped out of Briar’s arms and into the horse’s stall, curling up by its side. The horse snorted again but didn’t kick the fox out.

“She’s beautiful.” Cosette said, watching the horse as it lay its head next to the fox.

“As all things are in Winter Court.” Briar beamed. 

“Seriously, her tutors just seem harsh. I thought maybe she was exaggerating a bit as the student but they really are snappy towards her.” Cosette complained to Ophelia, stirring the pot before her.

“Most fae tutors behave that way.”

“Most bad tutors behave that way; their race doesn’t matter.”

“Did anything interesting happen? Or did you just practice tea etiquette and play with foxes?”

“Viviane let me hold her baby. She also invited me to a tea party.” Cosette noted.

Ophelia put down the box of perfumes she was unpacking to look at Cosette with a tired, yet confused expression, “Why do you always lead with the most mundane of facts when something more important has occurred?”

Cosette shrugged. 

“Are you going to the tea party?”

“I said yes because I wasn’t sure if I could really say no.”

“That’s a fair point.” Ophelia smirked, resuming her work, “But in all seriousness it’ll be beneficial to establish yourself with Viviane.”

“Lumi started crying when I held her.” Cosette further shared, “She’s such an adorable baby…when she’s not screaming.”

“You know, they say that if a fae infant cries when you hold them, that’s a bad omen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Fae babies are considered to be particularly sensitive to the magic and intentions of the people around them.”

“Don’t tell me the baby knows I am a human…” Cosette stared at Ophelia in horror.

It was Ophelia’s turn to shrug, “She might. Not that she’ll remember that fact to tell it to anyone by the time she grows up.”

That doesn’t make me feel better!

Cosette looked down at the boiling pot of sandalwood. She had managed to get her hands on the material after ages of searching. Since the tree didn't handle cold climates well there had been a deficit of sandalwood in the market, with Summer and Day Courts being the only proper producers of it at the moment.

I’ll have to mark up the price on this perfume to match the amount I paid for the wood.

“I can’t believe a baby knows I am a human.”

“It’s more of a loose rule than a hard fact though.” Ophelia tried to offer comfort, “Many babies cry just because they want to. No one is going to find you out because Viviane’s child doesn’t like you.”

“I guess…” 

“More importantly, you should get a proper dress for the tea party.”

Cosette nodded in agreement, turning off the pot.

I’ll have to finish this later.

The bell to the front door jingled, followed by Theo’s voice, “Anyone home?”

“We’re in the back!” Ophelia responded.

Theo and his father poked their heads through the doorway to the back room.

“Hello!” Theo smiled brightly, “Do you two need any help? Since we sent out the prototypes we haven’t had anything to do so I-we want to help.”

“Sure, you can help Ophelia restock the shelves.” Cosette said, the elder glancing curiously at the pots she had been working over.

“On it boss!” Theo immediately got to work.

The light outside had begun fading as the group quickly got through the necessary clean up and preparations for the next day.

“Wow, I can’t believe Viviane herself invited you.” Theo murmured, his eyes full of wonder as he helped Ophelia put bottles onto the higher shelves.

The elder didn’t have any retort to make this time, working quietly.

“Do you feel ready?” Theo asked Cosette.

“I guess?” Cosette was very much not feeling ready. In fact, her feelings regarding the whole invitation were mostly terror and dread.

“It’s getting late and Ophelia mentioned you two still need to go buy a dress for that party. You two can go on ahead while we close up.” the elder offered.

The man looked rough, his hair a mess and his cheeks sunk in.

I can’t make this man work overtime.

“Absolutely not. Theo said you’re still not feeling well. You two can go home early while we close up.”

The elder sighed, fixing Cosette with a grouchy stare, “Ugh the youth, always arguing with their elders. I am perfectly fit to work. Now go before I change my mind.”

Cosette looked to Ophelia for support but she agreed, “If you insist sir.”

The elder took Ophelia’s box away from her and quickly unpacked it. Theo was practically sparkling with pride at his father’s initiative.

“You two go on ahead, we’ve got this place covered.” Theo resumed cleaning the shop happily.

Cosette quickly grabbed hers and Ophelia’s cloaks, bid Theo and the elder a good evening and rushed out onto the streets, walking towards one of the capital’s shopping centers.

With Lumi’s birth the snow had been falling nonstop, filling the streets with snow. The Winter Fae took this as a blessing from the Spirit of Winter and celebrated the child’s arrival. 

The Spirit of Winter clearly didn’t care if its court’s citizens could walk down the sidewalks.

Ophelia held Cosette’s hand, helping the human get through the heaps of snow. The two of them were sticking to the edges of the main roads where carts and carriages had already paved a flat path. 

Ophelia was looking better since their arrival in Winter Court. She had regained some weight and a lively blush returned to her russet skin.

Cosette smiled, “You look good.”

Ophelia tugged on her friend’s arm, pulling her out of a snow pile and into a cleared out section of the street, “Thanks.”

“How fancy does the dress have to be?”

“Did Viviane say who she was inviting?”

“She said it was just her and some close friends.”

Ophelia frowned, “It’ll need to be fancy enough to pass for a low noble’s dress but not enough to be competing with them.”

“Why shouldn’t I be competing with them?” Cosette quickly added upon seeing Ophelia’s expression, “Not that I want to of course.”

“Cosette, how do you think it will look if a Lesser Fae tries to outcompete the High Fae that invited her to a party?” Ophelia broke it down for her.

“Bad. Very bad.”

“Exactly, that’s why your dress needs to look like you put in effort, but not too much. Yet, it still needs to match their style.”

“This is all very complicated.”

“Remind me to get you a fashion textbook for your next birthday.”

“Yes ma’am.” Cosette saluted Ophelia earning her an eyeroll.

Ophelia made the executive decision that they were going to go to a shopping center who’s price range was between the places they tended to go to and the places they only dared to look at through windows.

The boutique was pretty, with the owners clearly putting effort into its design and aesthetic. Compared to shops that merely put all the clothes they had on racks, here the shop put work into their displays, adding decorative flowers and ribbons to the dresses, showcasing potential shoes or accessories that would go well with the outfit.

All that of course was mirrored in the dresses' price tags.

Cosette walked through the rows, looking at the various gowns, eyeing the ones with lots of frills - impressed by the handiwork.

‘Look Your Highness! Isn’t your toy beautiful now?’

She turned away from the dresses, walking down a different row.

I don’t have to wear it if I don’t want to.

Cosette tried to convince herself of that, but still had to wipe away the tears that formed in the corners of her eyes.

Ophelia said I need to match their aesthetic, from what I have seen of Viviane she doesn’t seem to wear overly puffy or frilly dresses. They tend to be more sleek and smooth in design. 

Cosette ran a hand down the fabrics of several gowns.

It would make sense to wear blue - it’ll make it easier to fit into their group.

The texture of the smooth cloth and the intellectualization of the situation distracted Cosette from memories of Calypso, letting her finally take a deep breath.

You’re fine.

Cosette made her way out of the row she had been examining to see Ophelia gazing at a dress. It reminded her of something she would have seen an Autumn Court noble lady wear during an outing, despite its Winter Court coloring. The dark blue, short cape had a tartan pattern while the dress was decorated with gray icy leaves, the coloring of which brought some light to the overall darker dress. The edges of the long sleeves were covered in white furs, perfect for keeping a person’s hands warm.

Eris used to wear a longer cape. These ones tended to be reserved for noble ladies who didn’t actually hunt-

Cosette decided to speak up to distract herself once more, “It’s beautiful.”

Ophelia hummed, “It’s expensive.”

Cosette looked at the price tag - 50 gold.

“We can afford it considering how much Viviane and Kallias paid us.”

Ophelia stared down at it silently.

“You said you wanted to fill your wardrobe with dresses. I would feel awkward being the only one with something that should be worn for fancy outings.”

Ophelia still looked hesitant.

“We have enough money for food.” Cosette gently squeezed her friend’s arm, understanding her concern, “I wouldn’t be encouraging you if we couldn’t afford it.”

“Alright, but not this one.”

“Okay.” Cosette agreed, “Is there something about it you don’t like?”

I would think that a reminder of home would be a good thing? To some extent? Actually, considering Ophelia’s past in Autumn that was a stupid thought. It probably wasn’t easy for her to see reminders of what she left behind, or more accurately escaped.

“I want something a little more practical.” Ophelia gave her a pointed look, “I am not the one being invited to tea parties.” 

Fair point.

The two continued their search, with Ophelia settling for a dress the design of which was still reminiscent of Autumn’s clothing, but the overcoat of which seemed easier to move around in compared to the first option.

Cosette tried to pick out something she could wear around the perfumery later but Ophelia stopped her, “You’re going to an event hosted by Viviane Cosette, you can’t wear that.”

“But you got something similar.”

Ophelia rubbed her temple, “Yes, but I am not going to be in attendance with a Lady of a Court. You are. You need to pick something that looks elegant, and is meant to be worn for sitting and looking pretty.” Ophelia continued, “If you want to make a fashion statement, do so after attending and wearing the traditionally expected clothes, okay?”

“When can I start making bold statements?”

“You already are!” Ophelia’s exasperated tone made Cosette quiet.

Ophelia took a deep breath, “Cosette, you’re a Lesser fae being invited to have tea with High Fae. A Lady of a Court nonetheless. That’s serious. I need you to understand that.”

“I do understand.”

Ophelia bit her lip.

“Lesser fae are looked down upon by many High Fae. This…this isn’t just some casual invitation, Cosette.” 

The fact that Cosette was not even a Lesser Fae to begin with was left unsaid in the public space.

“I know that.”

Ophelia looked into her eyes, softening a bit, “Good, then please act like it.”

Cosette nodded, her more serious expression making Ophelia relax.

The duo returned to their browsing, with Cosette giving Ophelia some space, walking down a different row than her. 

It would be nice for the dress to have a lighter shade of blue. 

Cosette rummaged through the options before her.

Since I have to dress up anyways, it would be cool if I could lean into fashion choices I couldn’t afford back home. It would be so much fun to wear something lolita inspired or one of those old European ball gowns.

However, Ophelia says I need to match Viviane's style, which means those options are off the table for now.

On the other hand, I would like some of my preferences to still shine through.

Cosette stared at the juliet sleeved dress she found with hunger.

It’s so pretty.

“Did you find anything?” Ophelia’s voice sounded behind her.

“Oh uh, yeah. This.” Cosette showed her the dress she was holding, “Though, I don’t think it really fits the type of clothes Viviane wears.”

Ophelia nodded, “Do you like puffy sleeves?”

“I think they’re cute.”

“Fair enough.” Ophelia relented, “Here, I think I saw something that will fit better.”

Cosette followed the fae to the row right next to hers.

“What do you think of this?” Ophelia pulled a dress off the shelf that made Cosette’s eyes light up.

“You know me so well.”

“Of course I do.” the fae pushed the dress into Cosette’s arms, “Let’s make our purchases and head out.”

Cosette agreed, following her to the counter, looking down at the gown. It was a cornflower blue color with bishop sleeves. A small bow was tied around the waist beneath which the fabric went down slightly past the length of her ankles.

Not because her ankles were sexy but because otherwise her legs would get cold.

Ophelia handed the cashier the money and took one bag, handing the other to Cosette.

“We should stop by the store to get some food before we head back to the perfumery.” Cosette skipped out of the boutique and down the cleared out road, satisfied with her purchase.

With it being evening there were few carriages on the smaller roads, allowing Cosette to walk there instead of the snow covered sidewalks.

Ophelia carried her own purchase quietly.

“When we get back I am going to design a present for Briar.”

“Cosette, I-”

“Since her teachers aren’t teaching her properly, I will! Besides, it’ll be a great way for me to learn too!” Cosette exclaimed, continuing to walk.

If she couldn’t learn history or traditions by being told them, it was nothing some proper DnD immersion wouldn’t fix.

Cosette wasn’t the biggest fan of the game, but she played every now and then with her friends. They had even dragged her to a renaissance fair one time. 

Cosette slowed her skipping.

Was it fair to share something she held so dearly with them with another person?

Ophelia remained silent.

Cosette glanced at Ophelia.

“Ophelia?”

She didn’t respond.

Cosette slowed her walk, matching Ophelia’s pace, looking at her friend with concern, “I am sorry, I interrupted you. What did you want to say?”

Ophelia smiled back, “It’s nothing, really.”

Cosette frowned, “No, this is definitely something.”

“I said, it’s nothing.” Ophelia walked ahead.

“Ophelia,” Cosette kept up with her, grabbing her arm gently to slow her, “I don’t prod into personal things. Or…at least I try not to. We discuss personal traumas when both agree to it and we feel comfortable enough. However, I will not have us not communicate on something that actively offended the other in the present.”

Ophelia avoided her gaze.

“I did something that upset you. Now please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Ophelia looked at her with saddened eyes.

“I don’t want us to fall apart because of a misunderstanding.” Cosette lowered her voice, “You mean a lot to me and I don’t want to lose you like that.”

“Right. Sorry.” Ophelia blinked the mist away from her eyes, “I…don’t feel it’s right of me to say this though in retrospect.”

“Say it first, and then we can talk about it.”

“You’ve been spending a lot of time with Briar and Viviane lately, and I get it. I really do. I just wish we could hang out a bit more as well. Outside of the perfumery, you know? You also mean a lot to me and I just worry…I am sorry, I shouldn’t have snapped at you about the dress. I really just want to help.”

Cosette felt terrible.

“Ophelia, you could never be replaced. Where would I be without you?”

Certainly not by Briar or Viviane of all people.

Ophelia looked like a kicked puppy.

Cosette hugged her, tightly squishing her friend, “I promise when I come back from the palace we will have a day for just the two of us. I am really sorry that I haven’t been spending as much time with you. I got so caught up with everything, I didn’t mean to ignore you.”

“I am sorry for being harsh.”

“You’re worried for me, and rightfully so.”

If I was a faerie helping a human pretend to be a fae I would also be worried if they weren’t taking this situation seriously.

Ophelia put her face on Cosette’s shoulder, “Can we invite Blanche too?”

“Absolutely.”

Ophelia hugged back, holding her human, “Thank you, I really am sorry about this.”

“Don’t apologize, I am glad you talked to me.”

“I am glad we talked too. I feel a lot better now…”

Cosette felt a small laugh escape her, “Who would have thought not bottling up your emotions was helpful?”

Ophelia laughed as well, wiping away the tears that had dripped down her face, “Yeah, who would have thought?”

Cosette shook her head, the two enjoying each other’s embrace in the cold air, the street empty, “It’s you and me until the very end.”

“To the edge of this world?” Ophelia smiled.

“To the edge.”

“Wow.” Cosette stared at the indoor garden filled with plants and trees of different varieties and colors. Her awe was not missed by the servant escorting her, who smiled proudly.

 It was so warm inside that Cosette immediately pulled off her cloak, breathing in the sweet scent of flowers. Despite the flashes of color here and there the whole place still carried an aura of cold distance. The indoor garden being made of almost entirely glass created a crystal-like appearance to the place and with the majority of the plants sharing a cooler color scheme the garden still looked like a winter wonderland.

“Cosette, welcome!” Viviane stood up from a table in the center of the garden near a miniature water fountain, her icy blue dress, a more modest version of the one Cosette had seen her in with Briar. A small crown rested on her head, sparkling when the light fell on it perfectly.

“I greet the Lady of Winter.” Cosette bowed.

“You can rise.” Viviane led the woman over to the table she had been sitting at, “Please meet my sister Evelyn. I am sure you have already met Solene.”

Evelyn smiled, her royal blue dress decorated with swirling patterns matched her sister’s, albeit it was less extravagant.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Lady Evelyn.” Cosette curtsied as per instruction of the etiquette book she snagged with Viviane’s permission, “I greet you Lady Solene, it’s wonderful to see you again.”

Apparently I had been putting my feet in the wrong position.

Cosette cried to Ophelia from embarrassment upon her realization that she had greeted Kallias and Viviane improperly the first time they met. To which Ophelia told her ‘bullshit’ and that she greeted them fine - the intricacies of a bow only started to matter between High Faeries in a government setting.

Viviane’s smile widened and she gestured for Cosette to sit.

Cosette tried to put her cloak on a chair only for a servant to quickly snatch it up and carry it away. Looking to Viviane, the Lady merely tilted her head, watching Cosette like a hawk.

Cosette took her seat, an uncomfortable feeling slowly building inside her.

Briar is right, they totally stare at you as if you were an exotic animal.

Another servant quickly appeared, refilling Viviane’s flowery tea cup with tea. Evelyn’s being filled next, then Solene’s and Cosette’s last.

Cosette was grateful to her past self’s decision to have started reading the books Viviane gave her. Partially because she could behave more appropriately but also because she could appreciate the effort and time that was put into creating this tea set. From the intricate designs painted onto the cups to the way the glass was shaped into its current form.

Cosette paused.

Did she give me those books on purpose? To prepare me for this tea party?

The thought left a sour taste in her mouth but it didn’t seem that absurd of a theory. On the other hand, perhaps Viviane simply wanted her to have something in common to bond over with Briar?

It’s not like she gave me instructions to read them, but wouldn’t one have to if they were being invited to such an event?

Cosette’s thoughts were interrupted by Evelyn, “Cosette, Viviane mentioned you’re not originally from Prythian. Is there a particular reason you’ve traveled here?”

“I wanted to travel and see other places besides the Faerie Realms. With many faeries returning after the war with Hybern I decided to come with them.”

Cosette mentally high-fived Ophelia.

“Were you a perfumer back home as well?” Solene joined in.

“Sort of.” Cosette decided to keep the explanation vague, “I worked with herbs and medicines from which I expanded into perfumery.”

“Oh? So you’re a healer by origin?”

“I was an apprentice.”

“Why not stay to finish your education?” Solene sipped her tea.

The plan was to finish my education before the universe decided I didn’t need a bachelor's degree!

“My teachers and I decided it would be best for me to study abroad in Prythian.”

“Do you come from a wealthy family then?” Solene pressed.

Shit, what does my wealth back home even translate to in Prythian? How rich are the fae that live in the Faerie Realms?

“Not inherently wealthy, but well off.”

Didn’t Ianthe hide near the Faerie Realms while the conflict with Amarantha was going on? Her father was an important figure of sorts in Spring so they can’t exactly be poor.

“Solene, if she came from a family of doctors then of course they’ll be well off.” Evelyn giggled, “I am sure Cosette’s parents are well known in their village if they raised such a talented female.”

“We’re average compared to some of the other healers in our village.” Cosette deflected the compliment.

Never ask my parents to do anything medical related, they would get you killed faster. Mom would prescribe you wine with cheese and as Dad always said, ‘nothing a good old shoot out wouldn’t fix’.

“If your definition of average is what you have brought to the table then I want to see what you consider to be extraordinary.” Solene scoffed.

A silence settled over the group as a servant brought in a platter full of sweets. Cosette eyed the cookies. Like everything else in this palace, they were beautiful; shaped as different snowflakes, with blue frosting, the treat looked straight off the cover of a cooking magazine Cosette was sure she had seen in a bookstore back home.

Cosette however didn’t reach for the cookie like Evelyn did, her stomach instead choosing to do cartwheels under Solene’s stoic gaze.

I can’t even tell if I am giving you the right answers or not. Can’t you give me a smile? I’ll even take a frown from you! Negative feedback loop. I am begging you over here Solene!

“So, um.” Cosette mumbled, earning a small shift from Viviane as she stirred her tea, “Solene, how is Amelio?”

Solene smiled, making Cosette shiver.

Nevermind, go back to being apathetic.

“He's doing well, working on the trade route to Velaris.”

“Velaris?”

“Yeah, with the city no longer being a secret he is trying out various ways to get to the port there to trade.”

“Haha, I remember when he found out about the city he was so mad.” Evelyn smiled.

“Well of course. It's not every day as a business fae you find out that there was a huge market and trading space that you didn't know existed.” Solene said.

“How long have the two of you been married?” Cosette asked.

“About fifty years.”

“You got married during Amarantha’s rule?”

“Right about the time she truly rose to power.”

Wow, it’s almost like with Kallias and Viviane. A declaration of love in a tense environment where countless foes are trying to destroy your new found happiness.

“Did one of you end up having to leave and stay under the mountain?” Cosette leaned in slightly, eager to hear the rest of the romantic tale.

“No, we were some of the lucky ones who got to remain.”

“Oh…well that’s still very romantic.”

Solene laughed, the sound making Cosette’s skin crawl.

Did I say something?

“Oh, forgive me.” Solene’s laughter slowly calmed, her eyes meeting Cosette’s, “Our marriage is a notorious example of a business arrangement within Winter Court so hearing someone call it ‘romantic’ is a bit humorous to me.”

Well, as always, good thing I didn’t lie and say I am from Winter Court. Otherwise all these gaps in my knowledge would have screwed me over long ago.

“But…he acts so tenderly towards you.” Cosette reproached.

“Well, it’s better to have good relations with your partner, no?”

“I…yes.”

Solene’s expression softened slightly as she explained, “Marriages born out of business deals are not all equal. Some can be quite fun.”

Cosette nodded.

I guess if the partner you’re married to is a good person then it’s not inherently bad.

Sensing Cosette’s hesitance Solene continued, “Besides, I am the one in control within the relationship.”

Wait, so did the elder have a point? Was Solene really in control of their whole arrangement??

“What do you mean?”

Cosette’s question earned a stifled laugh from Evelyn.

Cosette was beginning to feel stupid.

“I am Amelio’s window to high society and method of making valuable business connections that he as Lesser Fae otherwise wouldn’t get a chance to, while he is my money-maker. My family has a long history of working in the trading business and upon seeing Amelio’s ideas and integrity my father decided to bring him in as he knew I was shit at the job.” Solene said, “My strengths always lay in court matters rather than negotiations over prices.”

Cosette nodded, processing this information.

“It’s simply an added benefit that he’s good in bed.”

Cosette choked on her tea.

Viviane patted her back as Solene leaned back in her chair, smug at Cosette’s response.

“Cosette, what do you think of marriage?” Viviane retracted her hand as Cosette caught her breath.

“I hadn’t really thought about it.”

No offense, marriage is not at the forefront of my mind these days.

“Would you want to marry for love?” Evelyn smirked.

“I don’t think I am at a place in my life where I am ready to get married at all.”

“How old are you?” Solene set down her tea cup, her arms resting lazily on the armchair. Her prussian blue dress fit her figure perfectly with the earrings drawing attention to her face, her eyes narrowing as she analyzed the woman before her. 

“One hundred.” Cosette lied, the number feeling heavy on her tongue.

The fact she was going to turn 23 soon wasn’t lost on her. 

I still can’t believe I spent 2 years in Autumn Court. 2 years absolutely wasted!

Evelyn let out a small whistle, earning a look from Viviane. Even Solene looked a bit surprised, if one had to describe her subtle facial expression shift.

“Only one hundred? As a Lesser Fae? Yet you’re already traveling by yourself?” Solene tilted her head, “You parents must be very confident in your abilities.”

“They have good reason to be.” Evelyn said, “It’s not like Cosette is struggling to take care of herself.”

“Still, I did expect you to be a bit older…” Viviane murmured.

“I am an adult.” Cosette stated matter of factly.

“True.” Viviane conceded, “You are of legal age.”

“Say Cosette, if your farming project takes off, how do you plan to distribute the tool?” Evelyn changed the conversation topic.

“Well, I planned to just sell them.” Cosette in truth hadn't started thinking about that.

“At a store?” Evelyn clarified.

“I…am not sure. I guess I'd need a way to get it out to farms outside the capital since a traditional store wouldn't really work in this case.”

“Perhaps you could use some of the intra-court paths and routes for transporting the tools?” Evelyn suggested, “You could even make a moveable store using them.”

“Right…makes sense.” 

A moveable distributing center would be useful. Though, I don’t actually know what routes are used within Winter Court to trade. 

Who owns them?

Who manages them?

I’d assume it was all government owned.

Cosette forced herself to take a sip of tea.

I am seriously out of my element here.

“On the topic of trade, how is the route that goes to Summer?” Viviane shifted the conversation away from questioning Cosette.

Cosette withheld a sigh of relief.

Viviane I would kiss you right now if I could.

Cosette wasn’t sure how much longer she could take being asked questions to things she didn’t know the answer to.

“It’s going well. A bit slow due to Summer’s lack of outgoing produce but that’s understandable considering their overpopulation crisis at the moment.”

Cosette sat quietly, listening to the three women discuss the routes within the Winter Court and their reach.

“Aquilo says security is doing well on the check points.”

“I remember Noel’s family mentioned that the forest spirits had been acting up recently.”

“How so?”

“They said they were restless, but they never elaborated on why or what was upsetting them. The more high level spirits refuse to acknowledge any sort of problem when confronted.”

Wait, who the hell is Noel? 

Seeing Cosette’s confusion, Viviane turned to her, “Noel is the daughter of Kallias’s uncle. They help us manage the court’s security and safety by working together with the army.”

Cosette was preparing to get laughed out of the room for her question, “Is Aquilo related to them?”

“Very, very distantly to the point that the answer should be no.” Viviane said, “He’s from one of the less powerful High Fae families that remain. His and Noel’s side of the family simply interact often as they are both in charge of the court’s security.”

“I see.”

I am going to need to go find a family tree for Winter Court and start memorizing it because this is terrible. 

Cosette smiled, as the ladies continued their conversation.

All things considered this was a useful experience. I can confirm, for certain, that I am extremely uneducated when it comes to Winter Court matters.

Something that Cosette was very eager to fix, and quickly.

Cosette awkwardly followed Viviane out of the garden and down the hallway, bowing to Solene and Evelyn as they went their separate ways.

“Did you have fun?” The Lady of Winter suddenly spoke up.

“Of course your Majesty. Thank you for inviting me.” Cosette curtsied once more.

Viviane watched her carefully, a soft smile gracing her pale features, “I hope you didn't feel like we put you on the spot back there.”

At least you're understanding of my feelings.

“No, no it was okay.”

“If you ever have any questions, don't be afraid to ask.” Viviane said.

“Thank you, I am sorry I feel like I couldn’t contribute much to the discussions you were holding since I don't know a lot about Winter Court yet despite my profession.” Cosette felt silly.

Viviane shook her head, “No, no. It’s completely okay, Cosette. You’re new here after all. I hope this was a good opportunity for you to learn.”

“Thank you for your understatement.”

“Of course dear.”

Cosette took a minute to register the change in their surroundings as they clearly entered a different section of the palace. There were less guards and servants, the furniture getting more luxurious.

“Cosette!” Briar’s voice rang out, the girl running over to the two women.

“Well, I’ll leave you in Briar’s capable hands. Have fun.” Viviane waved goodbye, walking past them.

“Thank you again for having me Lady of Winter.” Cosette gave Viviane one last bow, straightening out when Briar made it to her.

“I am so glad you’re able to hang out again! What do you want to do? We can visit the stables, or we can get lunch? Oh, we can also go training!” Briar rambled, out of breath.

“I actually have an idea.” Cosette smiled.

“Yeah? What is it?”

“I have a game we can play, it’s a lot of fun but we need paper, twenty sided and four sided dice for it. Do you have those?”

“Yeah, of course.” Briar quickly rushed back to her room, Cosette lifting up her dress slightly to keep up with her.

Cosette’s eyes widened upon seeing the girl’s room; a cozy fireplace with two armchairs stood in front of it, with blankets draped over them. A large four poster bed and several bookshelves filled the room, a fluffy rug completing the look.

“How do we play the game?” Briar sat down on her bed, putting the requested items on the neatly made blanket.

Cosette sat down across from her, “Have you ever done roleplay Briar?”

“Um, no?” Briar gave her a weird look.

“Okay, so the game is called Dungeons and Dragons. You create a character and then play through a story during which you can go on different adventures.” Cosette picked up the dice, “We use these to decide your strengths and how well your actions are completed in game.”

Briar nodded, listening intently. 

Cosette picked up one of the papers, pushing it to Briar, “What do you want your profession to be? There’s many options like wizard, sorcerer, druid, to name a few.”

“What would you recommend to me?” Briar sounded intrigued, but lost. 

Cosette tapped finger against the paper in thought, “What about a fighter?”

“Can I wield a sword then?”

“Absolutely!”

“Okay then I want to be a fighter.”

“Now the fun part: what do you want your character to look like?”

“Um, like me?”

“Sure.” Cosette smiled, “Just so you know you can be anything in this game.”

“Anything?”

“Yep.”

Briar looked skeptical.

“You can be a dragon.”

“I’ll be myself.”

“Fair enough.” Cosette was appreciative that this woman was even entertaining this as an idea, so she wasn’t about to push her to try something even more outside her comfort zone.

“Do you want to keep your name the same?”

Briar hesitated before saying, “I’ll go by Bea in this.”

“Do you want to give your character a motivation? Like a goal of sorts?”

“Can I decide my character’s goals as I play?”

“Yeah, but it is helpful to know a little bit about your persona before we begin.”

“Okay then, how about my character’s dream is to travel?”

Cosette nodded, jotting down Briar’s input on a paper, and explained the basics of her skills such as strength and charisma. 

Briar stared at the ‘1’ she rolled for her charisma.

“Can I reroll?”

“No.”

“But it’s a 1!”

“You have a 20 on your strength. You’ll be fine, don’t worry.”

Briar huffed. 

“Now…are you ready to begin the game?”

Briar nodded, her patience beginning to wear.

“Ahem.” Cosette cleared her throat, “You, Bea, are an adventurer who wants to travel the world, so you have decided to leave home and travel to the biggest kingdom on your continent.”

Briar leaned in, listening.

“You begin your journey through a dangerous forest, one supposedly filled with dangers and monsters. You have been warned by the villagers living nearby that you should never stray off the main path in the forest, but you’re not too worried as you are wearing armor and have your trusty sword on hand. As you venture deeper down the grassy path you encounter a friendly grandma who seems lost. What would you like to do?”

“Talk to her…?”

“You approach the elderly woman and greet her, to which she nervously stutters out ‘Oh dearie I seem lost! Can you help me get home?’”

Briar smiled slightly at Cosette’s attempt to mimic a stereotypical elderly grandma, “I ask her where she lives.”

“‘My little cottage is somewhere around here…��” Cosette felt her voice strain as she imitated the character looking around, trying to orient herself, “The elderly woman seems quite confused as to where her home is.”

“I take her by the hand, and start leading her down the pathway I was walking down.”

“‘Oh right this way dearie! My home is right there!’ The grandma points to a small pathway going off the main road. What do you do?”

“I want to help her get home so I walk off the path with her.”

“You hold the elderly woman’s hand, helping her over logs and rocks as a small cottage comes into view. ‘Oh dearie, thank you so much for your help! I have some food inside, weary traveler. Will you let me repay your kindness?’”

“This game is easy Cosette.” Briar ran a hand through her hair, “I go inside with the nice grandma.”

Cosette smirked, “Once you enter you see a wooden table with some bowls and a large hearth, with cages hanging off the ceiling.”

Briar frowned, “Does she give me food?”

“The woman approached the hearth telling you, ‘Wait right here dearie, I'll be back in a minute.’”

Briar’s frown deepened, “How long is she gone for?”

“She'll be gone for a while so you can do something while she's gone.”

“I explore the cottage.”

“As you take a look around the living space you spot various statues of people across the kitchen counters.”

“I take a closer look at the statues.”

“You walk over to the counter and pick up one of the figures. It's stone. The person is dressed like a typical adventurer would be with some basic armor and a crossbow. Some of the other figures in the collection are dressed like merchants or mercenaries.”

“Huh.” Briar huffed looking at Cosette, “Is she evil? Is she turning people into stone?” Briar gasped, “Is she a fae?!”

Cosette simply smiled.

Seeing that she wasn’t going to get an answer out of Cosette out of game, Briar decided to try another way, “I check what is in the cages hanging above me.”

“You begin to check the cages to find various forest animals trapped inside.”

“Can I let them out?”

“You try to open the cages but the doors do not budge. One of the trapped animals, a black cat, speaks up; ‘It’s no use, traveler. She has us trapped in here with a spell.’”

“How do I break the spell kitty?”

“‘Hmm, perhaps if you get rid of the sorceress we will be freed? Magic weakens after the caster’s death. But you must hurry, otherwise she will turn you into one of those figurines. She will try to feed you poisoned porridge. Good luck traveler.’”

Briar stared at Cosette slightly stunned before speaking, “I sit down at the table.”

“As you sit down at the dinner table the sorceress returns carrying porridge. ‘Here you go dearie, I hope you enjoy it!’”

“Oh thank you so much, but I feel terrible eating alone, will you please join me?” Briar was starting to get into the groove, exaggerating her voice slightly.

“‘Oh of course dearie.’” Cosette had the character play along, “The elderly woman returns carrying another bowl of porridge.”

“Oh my, I am quite parched, could you bring me a glass of water?”

“‘Of course dearie!’ The sorceress leaves to get Bea some water.”

“While she’s gone I switch our bowls.”

Clever.

“The sorceress returns, putting a glass of water before you.”

“I start eating my porridge.”

“The elderly lady smiles and begins eating her food as well, choking as she swallows the second spoonful. ‘What is happening?’”

“Ha! I tricked you!” Briar pointed at Cosette, “You thought I wouldn’t realize the truth? I switched our bowls and now you won’t be able to hurt innocent travelers anymore!”

“‘Noooooo!’” Cosette dramatically flopped onto the bed, freezing in a funny pose, “The moment the woman turned to stone the cages opened and all the forest critters escaped to freedom.”

“Wait, what about the people who were turned to stone?”

“‘Unfortunately they cannot be saved that easily.’ the black cat spoke up, ‘While she kept our cages locked with her magic directly, they were turned to stone using a potion. Such magic is harder to undo.’”

“Can’t we save them?”

“‘There may be a way. If we can find the antidote to this potion then they can be saved.’”

“Do you know what the antidote is, kitty?”

“‘No unfortunately, but we can search for it together.’”

“Don’t you want to stay in the forest?”

“‘I am a cat. My home is not with a place but with a person who will feed me. I choose you to feed me.’”

“You’re a very lazy cat. But alright, I’ll permit you to join me on my quest!”

“You and your new cat companion continue down the pathway of the forest.” Cosette glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner.

“Wait, what happens next?!”

“You’ll have to find out another day Briar, it’s late.” Cosette got up, brushing out her dress.

It’ll take a while to get to the more educational bits since I don’t want the game to feel too heavy handed with history and facts. It’s meant to be fun after all.

“Cosette, do you want to have a sleepover?” Briar got off the bed, following her, “We can get some snacks and continue the game.”

“I am sorry Briar, but I can’t.” Cosette said gently, “I need to be home today so I can work tomorrow.”

“Oh…” Briar’s expression fell.

“But, how about we plan a sleepover for another day? I would love to continue this game with you. I am so glad you enjoy it as much as I do.”

Briar nodded, “Alright, good luck with work.”

“If you want to work a bit on the game you can come up with a backstory for your character.”

I think you can do it now that you’ve got the general idea of DnD.

“A backstory…” Briar murmured, “Yeah, I’ll work on one.”

“Great, you can show it to me the next time we meet so I can incorporate it into the story.”

Briar nodded, leading Cosette to the exit and wishing her a good evening.

Cosette pulled on her cloak and bid her good night as well, shivering as the cold wind brushed her hair.

Cosette collapsed into bed next to Ophelia.

“I am so tired.”

Ophelia hummed, taking a sip of her herbal tea and petting Cosette’s hair as the human snuggled closer.

Cosette loved these moments with the Autumn fae. Just them. Laying in a cozy bed, not worrying about the outside world or any problems that will come tomorrow.

It was enough to take my mind off of things, and that was more than I could ask for on a busy day such as this one.

Cosette pulled out the book Ophelia had gifted her, flipping to the page she had stopped on - Day Court. 

Truly, the various court traditions were so fascinating, from Autumn’s mementos to Spring’s fishing games.

“How far are you?”

“I am on Day Court.”

“Did you read the section on Winter Court?”

“Yeah, I wonder if Aquilo would let me see their active military bears. Not just the retired ones.” 

“You should ask nicely.”

Cosette glanced at Ophelia with a smirk, “If a certain fae asked I have a feeling we would be given permanent visitation rights to the bears’ place of keeping.”

Ophelia shoved a pillow in Cosette’s face making the blonde giggle.

“Cosette?”

“Hm?”

“Read aloud for me.”

“Why?”

“I like your voice.” Ophelia leaned back against the bed frame, closing her eyes.

“‘Day Court duels - a tradition passed on from times before the seven courts properly formed, now takes the form of an entertaining spectacle usually watched by an audience in a stadium. The tradition shares roots with the blood duel in Autumn, but while the blood duel is meant to resolve a dispute specifically between lovers over a mate, the duels in Day are of a more broad, and legislative nature. They are a means of defending or challenging one’s honor over an offending action such as insults or past unresolved conflicts.”

Geez, are fae so sensitive that they cannot talk it out?

“While the most popular instances of these duels taking place are large gatherings or parties that are meant to clear out tensions between High Lords and their entourages, such duels can also be found taking place on a lesser scale within the regular lives of Day Court citizens as a means of determining who was right or wrong.”

Ophelia snorted, “They either fuck their problems away or stab each other over it. Wish Autumn had more of the former within their government though, would make things better for all of us.”

Cosette continued, “This method of identifying the one at fault within a conflict is supported by the belief that the Spirit of Day, a being that can see all present and past actions, would know if someone was in the right and thereby support them if necessary. This, at the very least, is the explanation used by many to explain why certain faes who were much weaker than their opponents, still won.”

“Many modern historians argue that the current Day Court’s philosophy of pleasure coming hand in hand with pain is part of the reason the atmosphere within the court is deemed to be so light hearted and freeing.”

“That…is insane.” Cosette stared at the page, “You’re telling me that Day Court faeries just duke it out whenever they disagree over something? And what’s this about Day Court’s spirit seeing everything?”

“The text literally says it best, ‘pleasure comes hand in hand with pain’. Faeries of Day Court appreciate a good show, just like any normal fae would, but they indulge in pleasure the most so the concept of justice being rightfully served is very appealing to them. However, such a triumph cannot be achieved without a few broken bones.”

“So because justice is served so frequently, it makes the court a nice place to live?”

The Autumn Fae sighed, “That’s how I would interpret the text. It’s feeding into the stereotype that fae are sadists who derive pleasure from pain.” 

“Well based on past actions they’re not exactly beating those allegations.”

“No they’re not. Those tropes have roots in reality, Cosette. Albeit, as you’re seeing now, the truth is more complicated. It is layered with cultural beliefs and traditions that have good intentions, even if the execution is terrible.” Ophelia set down her empty tea cup, “As for the Spirit of Day…the general idea is that each of the court’s spirits specialize in certain attributes. For example, the Spirit of Autumn is known to be a ruthless warrior who despises cowardice. The Spirit of Winter is known for his cold demeanor and desire to preserve all as it is. The Spirit of Day is generally considered to be oriented around justice. Legends say that since the Spirit presides over the court of literal Day, she ‘can see all present and past actions’ due to the sun’s rays illuminating only truth to her.”

Interesting…if I remember correctly in the story Helion’s powers were light based and that he could break enchantments, earning him the title of ‘Spell-Cleaver’. Did the Spirit or the High Lord influence the other’s power?

Also, Helion maintained a large library and favored scholars; how did they fit into this system?

“Okay, this is a dumb question, but do the spirits have a gender?” Cosette stared at the book, flipping through the pages, “Because this book’s author, Cosette quickly glanced at the cover, “Mister Aristippus, flips between using gender neutral pronouns to she and him with ease.”

“Cosette, they’re spirits.” Ophelia yawned, “They can be whatever ‘gender’ they want to be. They could be moss for Mother’s sake. The point of getting you the book was so that you learned from it and didn’t rely on asking me so many questions.”

“Asking you is much more fun though. You’re literally all knowing.”

“Not all knowing, I just have better reading comprehension skills than you clearly.” Ophelia blew out the candles, leaving one for Cosette if she decided to keep reading.

“Goodnight.” The fae hugged the human’s arm, “Don’t let the wrigwrots bite.”

“Wait, they can bite?!”

Disclaimer: the usage of a Greek philosopher’s name, Aristippus, is on purpose, and I will be drawing a bit from his ideologies, especially hedonism when we get to that point in the story. However, the character will by no means be a fully accurate depiction of the real life figure (think along the lines of Bungo Stray Dogs, where author names are used and characters draw from said author’s works and lives but are not meant to be biographical in nature).

If you are curious as to the real life figure, here is a couple sources I find to be interesting and to the point;

britannica.com

iep.utm.edu

Next: Chapter 27 - Failure Is the Path to Success

Back: Chapter 25 - An Iris and Her Pine Tree

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[a-spicy-reader]

THE SHOW

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

English is not my first language so sorry for any mistakes

----

Synopsis Behind the scenes of "The Show," a makeup artist and host Xiaojun engage in a game of teasing and desire. When tensions reach their breaking point, backstage work will never be the same again.

-----------------

O estúdio do "The Show" estava agitado com atividade, como sempre. Como maquiadora da equipe, Mia tinha se acostumado ao ritmo frenético. Mas desde que Xiaojun começou a apresentar o programa, a rotina parecia um pouco... diferente.

That Monday, as Mia was touching up one of the guest's makeup, she felt a heavy gaze on her back. Turning discreetly, she saw Xiaojun leaning against the wardrobe bench, watching her with that smirk that seemed to be keeping secrets.

"Something wrong?" Mia asked, arching her eyebrows.

"No, nothing," he replied casually. "I just thought you were more focused than usual today."

"Is that bad?"

"Not at all. Focus is sexy," he said, winking before walking away.

Mia rolled her eyes but felt the heat rise up her neck. He was always like this – carefree, charismatic, with a charm that seemed tailor-made to unsettle.

On Tuesday, he was sitting in the makeup chair, as he did before every broadcast. When Mia approached with the brush, he smiled, tilting his head slightly.

“Are you going to make me look pretty today?” Xiaojun teased, his eyes fixed on hers through the reflection in the mirror.

“That would be impossible,” Mia replied, feigning indifference.

“Impossible because I’m already handsome?” He arched one of his striking eyebrows, the movement making Mia's stomach churn. She laughed softly. “Impossible because even makeup can’t do miracles.”

He laughed, but there was something else in the way he looked at Mia at that moment – ​​a challenge. She tried to ignore it, focusing on her work, but the tension between them seemed to grow with each touch of the brush on his skin.

Later that day, he appeared in the dressing room while Mia was packing her things. “Did you forget something?” she asked, not even looking at him.

“No. I just wanted to say that I liked your answer earlier. But… I still think you think I’m handsome.” He moved closer, standing close enough that Mia could smell his perfume – fresh, yet woody.

She pushed him lightly, laughing. “Good night, Xiaojun.”

By Wednesday, the game between them had already reached another level. During lunch break, he walked past the corner where Mia was sitting, scrolling through her phone.

“You look tired. Want some coffee?”

“No, thanks.”

“Are you sure? Because I have enough energy to cheer you up,” he said, bending down slightly so that their faces were level.

“You really think all your pick-up lines work, huh?” Mia teased.

“Com você, ainda não sei. Mas estou gostando de tentar.” Ele piscou e foi embora, deixando-a com um sorriso involuntário.

Mais tarde, enquanto retocava a maquiagem antes do show começar, ele segurou a mão de Mia por um segundo a mais enquanto ela ajustava o delineador em seus olhos. "Suas mãos são sempre tão firmes?"

“Only at work,” she replied, trying to keep her tone professional.

“Then I need to see you outside of here to find out how they look.”

Mia let out a short laugh, but the impact of his comment lasted much longer.

On Thursday, the tension reached its peak. Since the morning, the gazes between you and Xiaojun had been charged. He would lean a little closer when he spoke to you, and you could feel the heat growing with each interaction.

By the end of the day, the studio was almost empty. Mia was organizing her materials when she heard footsteps behind her. Turning, she found Xiaojun, already without his blazer, his white shirt slightly open, his striking eyebrows arched in an amused look.

“Are you avoiding me?” he asked, casually.

“No.”

“Then why do you seem so nervous when I’m around?”

“You’re imagining things,” Mia replied, but her voice wasn’t as firm as she would have liked.

He laughed, leaning even closer. “I’m sure I’m not.”

He leaned against the makeup cart, so close that Mia could feel the heat of his body. His fingers brushed lightly against the edge of the table behind her, and his breath, warm and rhythmic, touched her skin.

“Three days,” he began, his voice low and husky. “Three days of you driving me crazy with this game. But if you want me to stop now, just tell me.”

Mia didn’t say anything. It was as if the words had been ripped from her throat. Instead, her fingers instinctively gripped his shirt, pulling him closer. He chuckled softly, but there was something different about the sound now. It wasn’t playful or teasing—it was something darker, thick with anticipation.

“I knew it,” he murmured, his eyes boring into hers. He tilted his head, his lips inches from hers, but he didn’t kiss her right away. Xiaojun wanted to savor every moment, watch her every reaction.

“Tell me to stop,” he whispered again, almost like a challenge.

“I don’t want you to stop,” Mia finally managed to say, her voice coming out huskier than she expected.

It was like a signal. In one swift movement, he turned her around so that her back was to the mirror, pressing his body against hers. His heat was almost unbearable, and the strength with which he held her was a clear reminder of who was in control at that moment.

His fingers slid down the curve of her hip, up the side of her body as he pressed his lips against her neck. He started slowly, kissing and nibbling the sensitive skin, each touch sending waves of heat that made her entire body react.

“You have no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he said between kisses. His voice was so low that Mia almost didn’t hear it, but the weight of his words was undeniable.

His hands began to explore, sliding down her thighs until they reached the hem of her dress. He pulled it up slowly, his fingers tracing patterns on her exposed skin, while his eyes, reflected in the mirror, were fixed on hers.

“Look at us,” he ordered, his voice firm.

Mia tried to look away, but he held her face, forcing her to look at the reflection. “I want you to see what you do to me.”

Looking into the mirror, she saw the intensity on his face, his lips parted and his eyes dark with desire. He slid one hand around her waist, while the other gripped her thighs tightly, making it clear that there was no more room for resistance – not that she wanted to resist.

Xiaojun leaned forward, pressing his hips against her. The movement drew a low moan from her lips, and he smiled, satisfied. “I knew you liked this game,” he murmured, his fingers finally reaching the delicate fabric of her panties.

He pulled them aside, the teasing touch eliciting an involuntary gasp from her. “You’re wet,” he commented, his voice almost a growl. “I haven’t even done anything yet.”

His fingers began to play with Mia’s clit, movements precise and calculated. Her body arched involuntarily against him, and a cocky grin appeared on Xiaojun’s face. “Like this,” he encouraged, his breath coming in short pants.

When Mia tried to turn towards him, overcome by an impulse to see him closer, Xiaojun held her hips firmly, keeping her in place. “Stay like this. I want to see you in the mirror while I make you cum.”

His movements became faster, more intense, as her body reacted wildly to his touch. Her moans filled the small dressing room, muffled only by the sound of Xiaojun’s heavy breathing in her ear.

“You’re going to cum for me, aren’t you?” he teased, biting her earlobe lightly. Mia nodded frantically, unable to form any coherent words.

When her climax finally hit, it was like an overwhelming wave that stole all the air from her lungs. Her muscles trembled under his touch, and Xiaojun continued until he was sure she had enjoyed every second of it.

Xiaojun remained against the closed door, his eyes fixed on Mia, as if he was still absorbing every moment of what had just happened. His breathing was heavy, but a slow smile began to form. “You have no idea what you just started,” he murmured, taking a step forward.

“You’re shaking,” he commented, his voice low and teasing. “I’ve barely started.”

Mia tried to regain her composure, but the desire was still palpable. Xiaojun reached out, lightly touching her chin to lift her face. “You know this isn’t going to stop here, right?” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “Every time I see you, it’s a reminder of what I want. And right now… I want it all.”

She shifted, trying to regain control, but his gaze burned, promising more than words could say. He stopped beside her, his fingers running lightly down her arm, sending shivers down her skin.

“Finish your work,” he said, his voice low and commanding, “but this conversation… is not over.”

Com um último olhar penetrante, Xiaojun abriu a porta e saiu, deixando o espaço vazio, mas ainda preenchido com a energia do momento.

[devastatedloyallute]

I Am Lost /A Fallen Angel Lute two-shot/ Chapter 2: Sister to Sister

🎶…can I live in a world with no purpose? How could I change when I’m still the same person?🎵 Warnings, etc: post season 1, mild season 2 spoilers if you squint and tilt your head to the right and hop on one foot, sinner Adam, fallen angel Lute, Guitarspear, angst, platonic(?) Lute/Vaggie

Read under the cut and on [AO3]

For the following week Lute had stuck close to Adam. Closer even than during their time in Heaven. If he left a room, she was right behind. If he joined the hotel residents in the main lobby, she reluctantly did as well. Even for something as minor as standing to stretch from being in one place too long. If he moved, so did she. 

She had to have physical contact; holding onto his sleeve when they walked, leaning against him when sitting, just anything to know he was really there. She feared she could once again be creating delusions in a way to cope with her situation. That if she couldn’t feel him there, then he wasn’t really there.

The occupants would give her snide looks anytime they crossed paths, to which she would mirror. She lived in a constant state of fight or flight mode, despite Adam’s attempts at reassuring her that she’d be fine. But who knew when she might get verbally or even physically attacked for still being there. She had to be prepared.

Lute had been given an old tee shirt to change into, though she wasn’t sure who the previous owner used to be. She hated the thought that she could be wearing something the Hell Princess used to wear. But it’s not like she could just refuse the article of clothing, her exorcist uniform top had been taken ‘to be washed’, or so it was claimed. 

Another night passed that she spent rattling to Adam about her thoughts as she laid as the little spoon in his arms. She gave his arm a squeeze, reminding herself he was actually real. She absentmindedly trailed her nails gently down his arm, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do,” she whispered almost inaudibly.

“There’s no use in tryin’ to change things you can’t, babe,” Adam said as he turned over onto his side, wrapping his arm around her waist and nuzzling the back of her head. “Believe me, it took me a while to get to that point too, so I’m not sayin’ you gotta get over it asap. But yeah, it’d be better for you just to not think about it.”

“How am I supposed to not think about it? I’ve lost everything. How do you just get over that?”

“Lute, shit takes time,” he replied. “I’ve spent -I dunno, months?- down here before I accepted the fact this is just how shit is. I waited days at the embassy doors, banging and pleading for anyone to hear me and let me back into Heaven. Because clearly there’d been some kind of fucking mistake for me to be stuck here. But no one answered. So eventually I said fuck it, fuck you, be that way.”

“I guess,” Lute groaned. “How did you end up at this stupid hotel then? Little miss ‘I can fix everyone’ find and recruit you?”

“Eh, kinda-sorta. It just kinda worked out; free roof over my head, didn’t have to worry about being jumped by the freaks outside-” Adam replied, “...and if this place actually worked maybe I’d get back home one day,” he added with a shrug.

Lute blankly stared off for a moment. If the hotel worked. Right. If. Should she let him, and by extension the Hell Princess, know about the slimy snake demon that managed to slither his way through Heaven’s gates? That Heaven has decided it's perfectly fine for sinners to come to Heaven if they’ve been ‘redeemed’? Or should she let it go and forget it ever happened? Like Adam had said, there’s no point in trying to change what you can’t. 

So let Heaven collapse in on itself, it’s what they deserve. They want to let a bunch of no good sinners into Heaven? Cause a societal collapse? Go ahead. Nothing that happens up there mattered to her anymore anyway. 

“-But not like that could happen anyway right, Lute?”

His cheerful tone snapped her from her thoughts, “Hm? Oh, yeah. Yeah…Not like that would be possible. Hell would actually freeze over before that happened.”

“Heh, well, doesn't matter anyhow, you and I are stuck here for the foreseeable future, but hey- at least we’ve got each other right?” Adam grinned as he squeezed her tightly.

Lute melted into his embrace with a light smile, “Yeah. If I had gotten sent here and you weren’t here, well…Let’s just say I’d tear both Heaven and Hell apart, or die trying. Whichever came first. No excuses, just pure violence until I got what I wanted. I still feel that way, even though I can’t act on those feelings.”

“Woah there, calm down tiger. Sheesh, I haven’t seen you this worked up since we found out Hunter died. I get it but damn, chill.”

Lute sighed and rolled to face him, “I know. I know, I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what I can do. Are we staying here? Are we going to go out and fend for ourselves? There’s just so many questions with no answers.”

“Well, we’ve gotten Luci’s permission to hang here until you decide what you want us to do. I think you’re overthinking things a bit, babe but I’m sure we'll be alright regardless. There’s no rush to get outta here, but I know you’re on edge and don’t really want to be here longer than you have to be.”

“...I’m not going anywhere without you. So it isn’t up to me, I’ll stay with you no matter what.”

“I get that, and I love you for it, but still I want to make sure you’re gonna be okay-” Adam tapped her forehead, “-in here, you know what I mean?”

Lute pressed her forehead into him. “I’m trying,” she muttered quietly. “It’s just hard…I don’t even know if I can trust my own head anymore. Is this even real? Did I actually die when Heaven abandoned me and now this is just my own personal Hell? Am I just going crazy and making up daydreams to pull through it?”

Adam rubbed her back comfortingly and wrapped his tail around her leg, “Hey, even if you are crazy, you’re my crazy.” Lute couldn’t form words, and just looked up at him with a sad, fat lipped pout. He ruffled her hair and planted a kiss on her forehead, “You’re fine, babe, I’m just picking.”

His tail around her felt odd. Not a bad odd, but strange. It was comforting but at the same time reminded her that he wasn’t the same as he used to be. Even his personality had shifted slightly. Fueling her thoughts that she must be making everything up in her head.

The next morning, Lute awoke early. She slowly peeled Adam’s arm from her waist and slipped from the bed. Adam had a drool soaked spot on his pillow, and with a snore he drowsily patted at the spot she was, hoping to feel her there. Lute silently chuckled to herself and pushed a pillow under his arm, with him taking it and cuddling it. She cautiously exited the bedroom, went down the hall, past the bathroom, and out to the back courtyard. 

Lute found herself staring out at the scarlet, sunrise sky. Seeing the white orb of Heaven looming overhead made her scowl in disgust. How could they have done this to her? After everything she had given, everything she had lost for the sake of Heaven…just for them to discard her when their viewpoints changed and she no longer aligned to them. She sat with her back to the exterior wall of the hotel, put her head in her lap, and curled her wings around herself. Hugging her knees to her chest and taking a deep breath in an attempt to recollect herself. 

“Hey, trouble. I see you’re without your leash this morning, what happened?” Vaggie joked mockingly as she came around the corner.

Lute lowered her wings and rolled her eyes, “Har har. What do you want?”

“Husk mentioned he saw you sneaking around. Figured I’d come check, make sure you weren’t up to something.”

“I wasn’t sneaking anywhere. I just…I needed to clear my head.”

“Yeah, you’ve been really jumpy since you got here. Which is weird, seeing you like that. I get being uneasy or aggressive but, you’ve been acting straight up scared.”

“Why do you even care?” Lute snapped harshly.

“That, right there. Everyone’s already freaked out thinking you’ll bite them if they get too close. So I ‘care’ because I don’t need you losing your shit on someone. And I don’t know if you know this, but you’ve got a track record of losing your shit for no reason. Probably how you ended up down here in the first place,” Vaggie said as she sat down beside her.

Lute watched her warily. What was she getting at?

“So come on, spill it.”

“...Why should I just spill my guts to you? You don’t even want me here.”

“To be honest, no I don’t. I don’t really want either of you here. But I would never hear the end of it from Charlie if we hadn’t let Adam stay here. And you’re only staying here because he’s here, right?”

Lute didn’t respond, but she relaxed her wings slightly.

“But I guess it’s better for him to be here where we can keep an eye on him, and not out there trying to become an overlord or something like that,” Vaggie sighed. “So look, if you’re going to remain here, you need to get your shit together.” Vaggie tilted her head to look over at her, “You know, one of the best ways to get something off your chest is to talk about it.”

“I have talked about it! It hasn’t helped anything!”

“To who? Adam?” Vaggie remarked coldly.

“Of course Adam! Who the fuck else do I have?”

“...And what has he said? Anything actually helpful? Or is it like talking to a brick wall.”

Lute sighed, crossing her arms over her knees, “He just says to stop thinking about it. It can’t be helped or whatever. Can’t change things that can’t be changed. But that…isn’t helping. I don’t know how to not think about it.”

“Listen, I get it. Your life changed, like overnight. I know what that’s like. You put me through that, remember?”

Lute side eyed her, “...right.”

“So, let’s talk. Sister to sister. One exiled angel to another.” 

“You still think of me as a sister even after everything I’ve done to you? Unbelievable,” Lute scoffed.

Vaggie smirked, “Eh, no not really. Just thought saying that would make you open up.”

Lute glared at her with discontent, “…well admitting that negated your attempt.”

Vaggie shrugged, “Hey, who else is gonna know exactly what you’re going through, huh? Other than Adam, but he doesn’t count.”

Lute groaned in annoyance, “Ugh, fine whatever. If it makes you leave me alone sooner.”

The angels sat together in a suspenseful silence. Lute waiting to see how long she could  get Vaggie to wait before she would hopefully get bored and leave. Vaggie waiting for her to rip the bandaid off and get it over with already. This was going to be a long morning.

A sigh escaped from Lute’s mouth, “I don’t know what I’m supposed to feel. I feel every emotion but at the same time I don’t? I feel-“

“-Caged? Trapped?” Vaggie asked, finishing her sentence.

“Yeah, I guess that’s one way to put it.”

“You are free to leave whenever you know, it’s not like we’re forcing you to stay.”

“That’s-” Lute exhaled frustratingly, scratching at her scalp, “That’s not what I mean. I feel caged in the sense that I want to do something but I can’t. I don’t have a reason to.” She threw out her arms in irritation, “Fuck, I mean, I wanted so desperately to come down here with an army and just annihilate every single one of you.” Lute’s fingers tensed as if she were tearing something. She took a quick breath and relaxed her hands, “For…fighting back and for what you did to Adam…but he’s here. He’s alive. And he’s…well…that’s another thing I’m having a hard time with, but I don’t think I can confront him about it.”

Vaggie gave a halfhearted laugh, “What, him being a sinner? The very thing you’ve spent your whole existence mercilessly killing for your own sick enjoyment? Taught that if you didn’t kill them that they’d one day rise against and revolt?”

“You used to be the same fucking way, so don’t patronize me with that shit. I don’t know what changed but one day you just decided you were going to spare them?!” Lute snapped in retaliation.

Vaggie replied back calmly, “It was a literal child, Lute. How fucked up in the head do you have to be to kill a fucking kid?”

Lute shifted her gaze to the pebbled ground at their feet. “I…I don’t know anymore,” she said numbly. “That’s what we were trained for. It didn’t matter if they were man, woman, or child. For Heaven’s safety, it was either them or us.”

“…But it doesn’t have to be that way. Not anymore. I get that you’re loyal to Heaven but, look at what they’ve done to you,” Vaggie said quietly, gesturing with her hand. “They’ve brainwashed you to the point where when they’re faced with what they created, they throw it away.”

Lute scoffed disgustedly, “Ugh. Don’t even get me started on fucking Heaven. Not only was I going through shit from losing my arm, losing Adam, what was left of my sanity…Come to find out, they put someone else in charge of leading the exorcists.”

Vaggie blinked rapidly in confusion, “Wait, it wasn’t you? So what’s going to happen with the exterminations then?!”

“Well, it was until it wasn’t,” Lute said with an eye roll. “And I have no fucking clue. Not my fucking problem anymore, I guess.”

 “You were literally their leader’s right hand, why wouldn’t they put you in charge? I mean- yeah, probably a good thing but- Who did they pick instead? One of the girls?”

Lute growled, “Fuck no. Some fucking newbie who can’t even tie his own shoelaces. Someone who has no idea what they’re doing and is going to run them into the fucking ground. Or worse, disband them completely. No army, no work, no responsibilities.”

“I imagine you didn’t take that too lightly,” Vaggie nodded knowingly.

“You’re damn right I didn’t. I was pissed. Like seriously? Sure, let’s put someone who has absolutely no experience as the head honcho, right makes total fucking sense,” Lute vented.

“So, what did you do?”

“The seraphim told me I would remain as lieutenant and to train the new kid. Fuck that. But I bit my tongue. At least during that meeting.”

Vaggie grimaced, “Shit, public humiliation. Bet that felt great.”

“I confronted Sera alone later to voice my complaints but of course their decision was final. So I figured that if they weren’t going to listen to me, why should I listen to them?” Lute huffed, “I mean really, you do everything they tell you to, then they suddenly change their minds at the worst of times, and you get punished for it. I give my life to serve and protect Heaven and this is the thanks I get.”

“…So I take it that you stayed headstrong like always and they saw you as a threat, and that’s why you fell.”

Lute sighed angrily as she swept her bangs back, “I guess so. Maybe more of a liability than a threat…”

Vaggie rolled back her shoulders and leaned back on her palms, “You know, I hate to say it but…Adam might be right. Ew-” she ran her tongue across the roof of her mouth, trying to get rid of the feeling the words left, “-That felt wrong to say. But I mean he’s right in saying to stop thinking about it. I know that’s hard to hear and even harder to do. But really, when you’ve lost just about everything? Where better to start than to start anew?”

Lute rested her head in her hands, letting her words sink in.

“When you left me here, maimed and bleeding to death, I had nothing. It was only a matter of time before I either passed out from the blood loss or before someone came to finish me off. But instead, Charlie found me. She took me in and cared for me. When the people I once saw as family abandoned me.” Vaggie looked up to the scarlet sky, “And I was scared. Scared that she’d find out what I used to be and what I’d done. But she didn’t. She had no idea. Well, that is until you asshats tried to ruin my life part two.”

Lute raised an eyebrow at her, “So you’d rather have stayed living as a liar to your girlfriend? Seems more like we did you a favor in the first place, leaving you down here.”

“If you really think about it, you’re actually to blame for everything that’s gone wrong for you. If you hadn’t attacked me that day and left me here, I never would have met Charlie to help encourage her with her hotel, you never would have lost your arm, Adam wouldn’t have died, and you wouldn’t have gotten exiled. You wouldn’t be here,” Vaggie stated matter of factly.

Lute’s jaw dropped in astonishment. She slowly panned to look at Vaggie. She closed and reopened her mouth, searching for something to say. ‘Fuck… Holy shit. She’s right. I hate that. So much actually,’ Lute thought to herself, taking in a sharp breath.

“Anyone ever told you, you really know how to make someone feel better?” Lute remarked sarcastically.

Vaggie shrugged, “Was just a thought that came to mind.”

Lute sneered at the angel in disgust. There was now an awful feeling in the pit of her stomach. Great, just another burden to weigh on her mind.

“Listen, what I’m saying is that things change, and sometimes that change is for the better. I was lucky that Charlie is so kind hearted. Even luckier that she loves me enough to see past my flaws and see that people are capable of change too. And that can be possible for you too,” Vaggie reassured her.  

Vaggie hesitantly set a hand on Lute’s shoulder, “Sure, you fell from Heaven. But do you realize how lucky you got? You aren’t alone. You have Adam here. And as much as I can’t stand the guy, I can see how much he means to you, and also what you mean to him. Charlie was so onboard with you staying here because she believes you being here will help Adam mentally. For fuck’s sake, when he first got here he would not stop pestering us on whether or not you were okay. And even after we gave him an answer he’d still whine and say we were just lying to him to get him to shut up.” 

She let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how you did it but that asshole damn near worships you. And you should have seen his face when you showed up. A mix of horror, shock, and awe. We were all trying to figure out what the fuck was happening and he just zeroed in and took off to catch you.”

The girls fell silent with nothing left to talk about. Lute soaked in Vaggie’s words and realized there was still something she should probably bring up, “So, uh, want to know the real reason behind ditching you in Hell?”

“Huh? The fuck do you mean the real reason?” Vaggie asked skeptically.

Lute avoided eye contact and absently played with the halo band on her wrist, “Do you remember weeks before that extermination day, where I…told you I had feelings for you?”

“Yes. And then when I turned you down you tried to turn it into a joke.”

“Yeah I… I guess I don’t really handle rejection well.”

Vaggie clicked her tongue, “No kidding. Look how you’re dealing with Heaven rejecting you. Wait, is that the reason you attacked me?!”

“Maybe. Yeah, a little.”

“That is straight up psychopathic.”

Lute slowly looked her way, “Well, everything happens for a reason, right? Yeah, after you turned me away I went and cried to Adam about it. And that’s when we came up with the idea to, you know, leave you in Hell.”

“Of course you had it preplanned. Why am I surprised? The both of you? Really? Over that?! How petty could you be?”

“I think it was originally my idea, and Adam just backed me up and pushed for it.”

Vaggie rolled her eyes, “Again, not surprised. See, I had thought you two were an item and you were just trying to prank me.”

“No, we had just been…close. After that though…I guess we did get even closer. He was my source of comfort, someone I could confide in, you know?”

“But you’re together now, aren’t you? You get past that awkward pining phase?”

“…It’s- it’s complicated,” Lute’s cheeks flushed as she turned away.

Vaggie raised an eyebrow at her and gave her an unimpressed look, “Really. Because you’ve been here nearly two weeks and every single night you’re in his room. And I know there’s only one bed in there. And Charlie never even offered you a room of your own because we all already knew you’d be staying with him. And the way you’ve been practically glued to him? How could anyone not think you were together? Honestly, I’m more surprised he hasn’t already come out here looking for you. I swear he acts like a lost puppy dog.”

“It’s just complicated, okay? I feel safest when he holds me…but, do you not feel at least some kind of weird being with the literal princess of Hell? It’s sort of like that. Being with someone so out of your league…Doesn’t that just make you feel…I don’t know, inferior?”

“Not really? That seems like a you issue, girl. Though I guess in the beginning it was kind of weird, but that wasn’t really due to her being a princess, but the other things. To be fair I didn’t even know of her title until like a year after we officially started dating,” Vaggie said. “Though in your case I guess it’s a little different, but hey, were you only after him because of his fame and reputation? Even though I don’t know why you would be-“ Vaggie added, the last bit under her breath.

“Of course not. He had just always been there for me, and I grew attached. And the more attached I got, the more important he was to me.”

Vaggie placed her chin in her hand, “And now that he’s lost everything, do you still think he’s “out of your league?” You still want him?”

“…that’s a ridiculous question.”

“My point. And he clearly wants you. You’re all he has left, and in the same vein, he’s all you have left,” Vaggie said with a small smile, “Wait, how did this turn into relationship counseling?”

“You’re the one who wanted me to open up about my “feelings” remember?”

Vaggie stood and straightened out her skirt, “Well…did it work?”

Lute put her hand to her chest, “Maybe…That resentment feeling still feels like it’s burning me from the inside out but, yeah. Maybe I should find a hobby or something?”

“Yeah, that’ll be a start. Focus on distractions for a while, eventually that feeling will fade.  We’ll figure this shit out and get through it. You may feel alone, but you’re not. Want some tea? Coffee?” Vaggie held out her hand for Lute to take.

Lute stared at her extended hand for a moment before taking it, “Coffee.”

“Cool.”

💕 my second artwork for this story! (I can't tell you have in love I am with how Vaggie came out~)

[auslanderka]

— my little piece for a spooky sports event made by my dear @koushuwu! || event post ; event masterlist

fandom : slam dunk

ship : mito youhei x gn!reader (f!reader in my mind)

TW/tags: spooky sports anime event, horror movie night, characters aged up, established relationship (wife-husband), slighty 18+, minors dni

Note : tbh I don't know how to write typical spooky stories but this was created, in general I don't celebrate halloween at all and all the traditions are for me "dry theory" from English class ; I feel like it's a little silly and boring but if by some miracle you have wandered here - enjoy.

Note 2 : and okay this fic. I dedicate this writing piece to @gothintegra - it's possible that you like horror movies and probably youhei wouldn't need to comfort you during horror movie night (I realized this as I was finishing writing haha) but it doesn't change the fact that I wrote with you in mind. it's my little "thank you" for your kind words when things were very bad for me in early september, I hope you enjoyed it!

— contains eng grammar problems and mistakes as well —

The living room of your small apartment looked fabulous. If that's the word to describe the room decorated with pumpkins and other ornaments you found in the store's Halloween & autumn section. Like every year, you created a mood to warm up the ugly weather that was starting to be more and more outside the window.

Youhei leaned over the candles in the shape of small pumpkins lighting them while you placed two mugs with hot chocolate decorated with marshmallows  in the shape of little ghosts on the table. Next to them were two plates of cookies, which you had been making all morning while Mito was still at work. The pleasant smell of shortcrust pastry, baked apple and cinnamon wafted throughout the apartment.

It was October 31st. A day when ghouls came out of their hiding places and people spent time at dress-up parties. You and your husband decided to spend the day together and make a movie night. You two just didn't agree on the choice of movie genre. Youhei wanted horror movies, and you wanted anything that wasn't horror.

"so what are we going to watch tonight?" you asked while correcting the cushions on the couch. Mito smiled broadly and disappeared into the hallway for a while. He returned with a paper bag full of rented DVDs from a nearby rental store. Seeing his face and the package you made the mental sign of the cross. You may not have been religious, but the sight of that one evil smile on his face made you know you had to prepare for the worst.

"you and your ideas" you groaned, picking up one of the dvds from the table. The cover itself was already rejecting; you didn't even want to think about what was the plot.

"hey, it's October 31st!"

Youhei stood on the other side of the table grinning widely. He had been saying for several months that they would have a movie marathon in October. At first you thought he was joking. You had been together for quite a long time, Mito knew very well that you are fearful and horror movies weren’t films you reached for with pleasure. You had seen maybe one or two in your entire life, not of you own volition, of course, but it let you know that it was not your favorite film genre.

You looked at Youhei and already knew you wouldn't give you a break so easily.

*

When he turned on the second or third movie, you sat next to him on the couch quite stiffly. You kept your gaze fixed on the TV, but at every louder sound of music or screaming you flinched or jumped up feeling the hair on your head go astray. Horror wasn't your favorite movie genre as you once again found out. Youhei sat next to you resting his head on his hand and watching you for several minutes in concentration with a lazy smile on his face.

He gently grabbed your hand lying on your thigh at which you jumped up making a silently frightened sound. You looked at him feeling your cheeks turning red and slapped him lightly on the shoulder seeing his amused face.

"hey" Mito chuckled smiling slightly and clasping his hand tighter on your arm. He pulled you close so that your cheek rested against his chest. Closed your eyes snuggling into his shirt.

"I don't want to watch it," groaned quietly, hoping that Youhei would give you a break tonight and the scary movie night would end with two horror movies watched.

"It's just fiction." he chuckled quietly feeling your arms tighten more tightly around him. He sighed quietly, put his arms around you and kissed your neck gently. Still cuddled in, Mito glanced at the TV, which he had turned down a few minutes ago without you even noticing.

After a while, however, he lost interest in the movie and the mindless carnage that had just played out on the screen accompanied by the screams of the blond-haired actresses. He grabbed you tighter by the thighs and pulled you closer to him. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, closing his eyes and inhaling the soft scent of your perfume. A scent you used only in the fall.

His hands carefully slid out from under the material of your loose cotton shirt and he moved them as gently as he could along your sides. At such moments, Mito always noticed how petite you were compared to his hands. He also had the impression that you had lost a lot of weight recently due to stress and excessive work. His grip became stronger.

"It's just a fiction. You are not in danger of anything." whispered in your ear.

Your skin was pleasantly soft and warm. You raised your hands, allowing him to pull off your shirt. A cheeky grin appeared on his face at the sight of your black lace bra, which contrasted sharply with your pale skin. The faint light of the candles set on the table and bookcases in the dark living room further accentuated your assets. He leaned in. His lips gently touched your hot skin, leaving a gentle kiss on your collarbone. You felt a pleasant shiver along your spine. You took his face in your hands and forced him to look at you. The corners of your mouth lifted, seeing dark eyes gazing lovingly at you. Nothing had changed since high school. All these years, he gazed at you with the same infatuated eyes. You leaned over and placed a gentle kiss on his forehead, and he let the air out of his lungs loudly.

Your delicate hands moved down the nape of his neck, pointing upward toward his dark hair. His hair, which had always been perfectly styled, was now disheveled and in the mess you liked so much. This was a private Youhei. Your Youhei. One that only you and perhaps his closest friends knew. You weaved your fingers into the strands, smiling slightly. He placed a gentle kiss on your shoulder and then began to move his lips toward your neck.

"I hate you..." you muttered quietly ignoring the screams coming again from the TV behind you.

"And that's why you married me." he winked at you at which you sighed quietly. It's a good thing you were sitting, because your legs probably would have refused to obey you.