#IF NO ONE WAS GONNA PUT ONE OUT THERE FOR THE BALLERINAS I HAD TO DO IT MYSELF

[sonotpattismith]

where I first saw you

pairing: tattoo artist!sukuna x ballerina!reader word count: 10.3k content: fluff, grumpy+sunshine vibes, sukuna is low-key an asshole, reader is depicted as a bit naive, special guest starring choso my shnookums, almost loss of virginity, smut, 18+

Sukuna loved his job— no really, he did. He didn’t have to speak a certain way to garner respect, his marked up face helped his occupation rather than hindering it, and he was finally able to put to use what seemed like the one goddamn skill the universe graced him with. Anyone who walked into the shop and saw that look on his face though might assume he’d rather be anywhere else than holed up in the dimly lit tattoo parlor he worked at, but it truly was just his face. Luckily for him though, his resting bitch face seemed to match the vibe of the shop, so his boss let it slide.

So, yeah, there really wasn’t anywhere else the daunting man could see himself working in, but there was one qualm about his job— the people. God, how Sukuna fucking hated some of the half-wits that sat in his chair most of the time. Whether it be cuddled up inconvenietnly to their significant other with whom they would soon be matching ink with, or the awkwardly beefed up masculine types that were convinced that their decision to get a big ass tiger on their back was unique. 

Perhaps he should have started working on his judgemental nature long before he decided on a career that centered around servicing people, but he just couldn’t find it in him to feign interest in their drawn out stories about why they were sitting in his chair that day. At the end of the day, it was the art that kept his soul alive while having to work with so many idiots. He loved drawing, since he received his first sketchbook at the ripe age of ten so that he’d stop scribbling on the walls of his room. 

He often joked that it was his one redeeming feature, never having been the best academic student and failing to be as charming as his twin brother so easily managed— this was his one thing. 

That was why he seriously had to exercise restraint and put on his best poker face when a group of babbling college students stumbled into the shop just shy of an hour before closing. There were about five of them, all shouting over each other and giggling obnoxiously as if they could hear any of what the others were saying. 

Don’t lose your job over some sorority kids. He had to keep telling himself as he set his pencil down, looking up from his sketchbook with his lips set in a firm line. They were huddled around the stencil book now, shoving at each other for turns looking at the choices before them. The bickering grew louder and louder until his last thred of patience snapped. 

“Oi, if you shitheads are gonna come in here so close to closing, you better quiet the fuck down and pick which one of you is getting inked, cause I ain’t got time for all of you, and you’re givin’ me a fucking migraine.” 

The group was stunned to silence, blinking up at the aggravated man behind the counter who was shutting his book with a huff. It was silent for a moment before they broke into hushed, excited rambles about how he was perfect and how fucking funny this would be in the morning. Taking in a controlled breath, he watched them shove one of their members to the front.

“It’s her, she wants a tattoo.” They all guffawed, looking at each other with barely concealed smirks that appeared far too incriminating. 

You stumbled forward, bracing your hands on the counter as the room seemed to spin around you. The apples of your cheeks were flushed red, but he assumed it was your nerves, along with the fact that your gaze couldn’t seem to focus on the man before you. 

“It’s late, so if you want something it’s gotta be small.” Sukuna explained with poorly concealed annoyance as he stood up to begin prepping a chair. He heard you begin to speak, but you were quickly cut off by the boisterous group surrounding you. 

“It can be small!” One of the guys insisted desperately as he guided you by your shoulders to sit in the leather, reclining chair the tattoo artist was standing by. “She wants a…” His words trailed off as he glanced back at the giggling group, who were all giving him a thumbs up as they shouted various ideas at him. “A tramp stamp! She wants a tramp stamp.”

Sukuna felt his jaw tick at the outdated term, but he swiveled his head to face you nonetheless. 

“You fuckin’ mute or what?” He grumbled as he snatched the stencil book from the group. 

“N-No, I… they told me they’d pick something nice for me.” Your words slurred almost unintelligbly, and, upon closer inspection, he was taking note of the blearly look in your eyes. 

“You plastered right now?” 

“She’s only had a couple drinks!” One of the girls defended quickly, leaning the entire upper half of her body across the counter in anticipation. “But she’s been talking about this for like everrr.” 

Something about their eagerness to speak for you sounded off warning alarms in his mind, but he shook his head nonetheless. 

“You ever done this before?” The pink-haired man questioned as he donned a pair of gloves. 

“Umm…” You hummed nonsensically, head lolling to the side to watch him snap on the last glove. His deadpan expression made you flush with embarrassment, staring down self-consciously at your ink-free skin. “No.”

“This one! She wants this one!” Another degenerate spoke up, pointing excitedly to the stencil depicting various sized lipstick marks that would traverse the expanse of your lower back. When you leaned your head forward to look, he quickly snatched the book away from your line of sight. 

Sukuna watched the motion with narrowed eyes, irritation slowly creeping up each of his fingers with an urge to ring someone’s neck out. Glancing back at the way you were slumped back in the chair, eyes barely able to stay open, he gave a curt shake of his head. 

“Nah,” He finalized, ripping his gloves off before tossing them in the bin beside him. “I don’t know what it is you lowlives call a joke, but I ain’t the one. Take her home.”

The group quickly broke out into a string of protests, walking around the counter to level with the man, but he had already made up his mind. 

“C’mooon, man!” The guy pleaded with the stencil book still clutched in his grasp. “She’s fine! I’ll pay extra, c’mon!”

Sukuna stepped forward to snatch the book from his grasp, pointing it back at your figure still sat obliviously beside them. 

“She can barely fucking sit up straight. Take her home before you seriously piss me off.” He repeated once again. 

There was an encore of disappointed groans from the idiotic group that had brought you in. 

“Whatever man, there are like three artists on this block. We’ll go somewhere that actually wants to make money.” The ringleader quipped before grasping at your arm to pull you up.

All at once, his patience seemed to drain from him as his hand came forward to grip the man’s wrist in warning. Sukuna towered over him, his broad shoulders unknowingly blocking you from his view as he tilted his head at him. 

“Yeah? How ‘bout I call the fucking cops?” The shadows seemed to cast an impossibly more intimidating aura to his already less than welcoming expression. “Or do you wanna take this outside?” 

The group could be heard murmuring to each other, weighing their options out and deciding their cruel joke wasn’t worth whatever fate this man had in store for them should they continue. Upon acknowledging the fearfully complacent expression on the guy’s face, Sukuna leaned back, dragging his gaze across the group where not one of them stepped up to defend you in your inebriated state. 

As the idiot rushed to get you up so they could hightail it far away from this shop, the artist shook his head, placing a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

“She’s fine there.” Sukuna said simply, not trusting that any one of these lowlives had even the slightest intention of taking you home unscathed that night. 

Baffled eyes stared up at him, but he remained resolute in his decision. It didn’t take much convincing at all though, because soon enough the group was scrambling out of the shop without so much as a second look at their ‘friend’. 

With an aggravated growl, Sukuna finally turned to face you again, only to find you passed out against the leather chair. He pursed his lips in annoyance, carefully reaching out to jostle your shoulder. You groaned softly, your still flushed face falling against your shoulder. 

“C’mon, brat.” He grumbled, glancing at the clock on the wall and deciding he deserved to close the shop a little early tonight. His boss would just have to get an explanation the next day. Reaching up, he gently pinched your warm cheek between his knuckles in an attempt to rouse you from your comatose state. “Where does your sorry ass live?”

Your eyes opened blearily, and it almost appeared as though there were two of him. Trying desperately to focus your gaze, a dumb smile spread across your face as you reached up to poke at his cheekbones. He grimaced, trying to shift his head away from your reach. 

“Haha, ‘sup four eyes?” You giggled deleriously at your own joke. 

“Yeah, real funny,” Sukuna quipped with a huff as you tossed your head back against the chair to close your eyes again. “Hey, hey, no, wake up and tell me where the hell it is I need to drop you off at.”

You only hummed sleepily at his words, and it was clear that he’d already lost you once again. Closing his eyes, he inhaled slowly through his nose to calm his temper. When he opened them once again, your lips were parted ever-so-slightly as you slipped off into a drunken slumber. 

He tsked in frustration before giving you a once over. You didn’t have a bag on you, and he wondered if your ‘friends’ had taken it with them. Glancing down at your pockets, he carefully reached down to feel around for a phone or wallet that he could use to get you home. When your front pockets proved to be useless, he grimaced slightly as he slumped you forward to search your back ones, sighing in anguished relief when he procured a cell phone. 

“Fuck.” He growled out when the damned thing prompted him for a passcode. 

In a desperate attempt to get you the hell out of his shop, he began pounding in random variations of four digit codes. Typical ones, 1-2-3-4, 0-0-0-0, 9-9-9-9, anything that might get him out of the situation he’d put himself in. After countless attempts though, he nearly tossed the device across the room when it alerted him that he was locked out due to too many failed attempts. Opting to toss the wretched thing on the table beside him, he groaned up at the ceiling. 

This is what I get for not minding my own damn business for once in my god-forsaken life.

There was a light scratching noise that flooded your consciousness. With it, came the realization that your brain was absolutely pounding against your skull, and you were sure there was a knot in your back that no amount of stretches would be able to unfurrow for at least another week. Parting your lips to lick the desert-like dryness from them, you noted that your mouth was just as parched. 

It was cold— far colder than you ever dared to keep your dorm room set at, and the sensation manifested goosebumps that prickled at every inch of your exposed skin. Despite this, there was a sheen sweat that was lining the back of your neck as you attempted to stretch. The nearly forgotten scratching stopped abruptly at your movements, and you slowly pried your eyes open. 

“Oh my god.” Your rasped voice blurted out as you came to the gruelling realization that the ceiling you were staring up at was not that of your room. Sitting up with a start, you frantically took in your surroundings as your mind reeled with the feeble attempt to remember what had transpired the night before. 

There were a myriad of… unique posters lining the walls, and, from where you were sitting, you could see a counter filled with various body jewelery. The curtains on the floor-to-ceiling windows at the front were drawn, making it difficult for you to determine what time it was, though you could swear you saw a sliver of sunlight peeking out through the cracks. 

Your hands suddenly began feeling around your own body in search of your phone, but you came up short. 

“It’s on the table.” Came an unfamiliarly deep voice on your right. 

Whipping your head around so quickly that it nearly made you dizzy, you caught sight of the monstrous-sized man lounging on the leather seat on the opposite end of the room. His hair was disheveled, but you were still caught off guard by its soft pink hue as strands strew across his forehead. An intricate work of black tattoos lined his face, emphasizing the secondary set of eyes he had inked under his real ones. 

“Oh my god!” You repeated with a mortified expression. He set aside the notebook that was perched on his lap to stand from his seat, and you shrunk farther into yours as he stretched to his full height. “Did we… oh my god, did I get a tattoo?” You weren’t sure which outcome sounded scarier to you as you frantically began assessing your skin for any evidence. 

“Check your ass.” He quipped with an amused glint on his otherwise stoic expression, but it almost broke upon seeing the horrified look on your face. “I’m fucking with you. Nothing happened— no thanks to your dumbass choice of friends though.”

You slowly settled back against the leather seat, trying to calm your racing heart as his words sunk in. With a vague haze, you could recall going out with a few members from your class who you were paired with for a group project. They weren’t exactly your friends, but you were desperately trying to change that being new to the city where you had begun university. 

“What… what do you mean?”

“I mean, they brought you in here telling me to tat you. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open. I told ‘em to fuck off.” His explanation was nonchalant as he began organizing a few things behind the counter. “And your sorry ass wouldn’t wake up long enough to tell me where you lived.”

The hazy puzzle pieces slowly started to come together, and you felt yourself flush instantly. Glancing at the time on your phone that was waiting for you just beside your seat, you noted it was still far too early for a tattoo parlor to be open. 

“I’m so sorry, this is mortifying—” You babbled as you stood up, quickly trying to straighten your rustled clothes. “I’m not from around here, and I was just trying to make some friends, but I didn’t know that—”

“Woah, woah woah,” The man before you grimaced with a wave of his hand to halt your rant. The warmth in your cheeks grew that much hotter at the realization of your rambling. “I just spent the night on a damn tattoo chair. I am nowhere near awake enough for your sob story right now, doll.”

“Right, sorry. Um, I should really get out of your hair.” You stammered, glancing awkwardly down at your feet as you made a beeline for the front door. With a barely noticeable hesitance, you turned back toward him one more time. “Thank you, by the way. That was… really cool of you.”

Sukuna watched with a lazy gaze as you pulled at the door only to be met with stark resistance. With a quiet huff, you used both hands this time to try to wrestle it open, even attempting to push it just in case. His long legs slowly dragged toward the front of the store with a tired mischievousness. Reaching over you, he switched the door unlocked before leaning back again, watching as the heat creeped up your neck. 

“Thanks.” You mumbled once again in humiliation, unable to face him as you finally pulled the door open. In an instant though, his hand was reaching above your head to hold the door closed. Your heart leaped into your throat, a nervous sweat nearly breaking out onto your forehead as you hesitantly looked up at him. 

“No friends is better than shit ones, you hear me?” One of his brows was raised as he glowered down at you, and the breath slowly escaped your lungs. 

His broad figure made sure his shadow consumed you, and from this close your clouded mind was finally able to process how terrifyingly hot this man was. Not trusting your voice, you could only nod meekly at his solemn advice, nearly crying in relief when he finally pushed off the door and allowed you to slip through it. 

In the end, you, by the grace of a higher being, made it to practice only ten minutes late, though you were still scolded by your instructor since you cut into your warm-up time. It was arguably the hardest practice you’d yet to endure, what with the crink it your back from spending the night on a tattoo chair. 

The more you thought about the mortifying events that had transpired the night before, the more you wished you could take your brain right out of your skull and hose it down in hopes of forgetting all about it. It was humiliating to think of how naive you had been to keep accepting drinks from the group you were with, who were still essentially strangers to you. Still, you were desperate for some friends after having spent an entire semester holed up in your dorm with nothing to do and no one to see. 

You had moved to the city from a small town, the kind where everyone knew everyone, and the culture of hospitality was far different from the uppity vibes you had received from nearly every new person you had met here. It was never really in your plans to move so far from home, but the university you had been accepted into had one of the best ballet programs in the country, and it had been your dream to dance professionally since you were six years old and perfected your first pirouette.

Still, you hadn’t expected to sacrifice so much to make it happen. 

You were friendly with the other members of your ballet group, but they all seemed to have already known each other for so long. It was more difficult than anything— trying to fit yourself into friend groups that had already been solidifying for years before your appearance. So, when your group members invited you out with them that night, you were more than elated to go along with whatever they had planned. 

You groaned in frustration, gently hitting your head against the wall of your shower as you washed off the sweat that had built up from your questionable night as well as practice later that day. There were at least five minutes spent inspecting your naked body in the mirror to confirm that you did not in fact have any unexpected ink anywhere. 

Despite your being in the clear, you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of what could have happened had the kind yet terrifying tattoo artist not been as decent of a human being as he was. The guilt and embarrassment gnawed away at you in the few days that followed at the thought of the complete stranger staying with you in the shop until your stupidly drunk self decided to wake up. You thought of his parting words as well, that made you feel even a tiny bit better about your less than fortunate social circumstances.

It was an impulsive urge spurred on by your incessant boredom just two days later that had you meticulously weighing out the ingredients for the easiest cookie recipe you could manage in your dorm’s tiny kitchen. You heard the timer ring in the next room as you tied your hair up in front of the mirror. After carefully packaging the baked goods in a leftover, holiday themed cookie tin with a neatly written ‘thank you for not tattooing me!’ note written on some pink stationary, you set off for the shop that had been haunting you for the past two days. 

The lit up, neon red ‘TATTOO’ sign that hung outside the front seemed to buzz ominously as you stared up at it. It was never the type of… establishment you ever frequented, but it was far from you to judge given your previous circumstances. 

With an anxious sigh, you pushed into the door, hearing the faint jingle of the bell attached to it. The shop was fairly busy, a stark difference from that morning you’d woken up in it prior to its opening. 

“Welcome in. You here for a tattoo or a piercing?” You were pulled from your thoughts as a man behind the counter greeted you. He definitely fit the part, you thought as you took in his tattooed nose and pierced lips. What appeared to be eyeliner was smudged haphazardly around his already ominous, dark orbs, and there were two spiked out buns at the top of his head. 

“Um, neither actually.” You flushed unnecessarily, your fingers curling tighter around your tin as he raised a curious brow at you. Mustering up a kind smile, you finally found the courage to look him in the eyes. “I’m looking for a guy that works here. Tall, pink hair, face tattoos— do you know who I’m talking about?”

“Sukuna? Yeah, he’s working on an appointment right now.” The man explained as he looked at the time. You opened your mouth to ask if he would be so kind as to just give him the tin whenever he got out, but he cut you off. “He should be finishing up soon if you wanna wait here for him.”

Abruptly shutting your mouth, you weren’t sure why you couldn’t bring yourself to decline his offer, far too self-conscious about your every breath in this place. Nodding in thanks, you slowly sat down on the low, leather black couch that was in the waiting area. You clacked your nails anxiously against the tin in your lap, hyperaware of the man’s eyes still on you. 

“So, what’s in the container?” He questioned with a curious glint in his eyes, jutting his chin toward your lap. Looking up at him in surprise, you offered a bashful smile.

“Oh, they’re just cookies.” You explained with a nonchalant wave of your hand. 

His intimidating expression seemed to melt right off of his face, darkly lined eyes lighting up in a way that gave him a child-like aura. Smiling knowingly, you stood to walk over to the counter and opened the tin to offer him one. The boyish smile he gave instantly fought off any fear you previously held toward him, and the tension in your shoulders slowly faded as he eagerly grabbed one. 

“‘Thank you for not tattooing me’?” The man read the card through cookie-filled cheeks, crumbs gathering around his lips as he looked up at you in question. “I’ve gotta hear this—”

“Choso, get him a tube of aftercare, will ya’?” That familiar, deep voice saved you from the embarrassment of having to explain yourself to the kind man at the front desk. Sukuna, as you had now learned his name was, was walking in from the back followed by a shorter man. His movements faltered upon seeing you in the shop again. 

His ruby eyes took in your soft appearance in contrast to the gothic decorations that adorned the shop. You stuck out like a sore thumb, with your baby pink cardigan and perfectly glossed lips, and he couldn’t for the life of him think of why you would step foot back in here. 

“Sorry, doll, bed and breakfast is closed.” He quipped as nodded at the customer who had stopped to thank him again before exiting the store. You flushed at his jab, wondering why you bothered humiliating yourself like this. 

“She made you cookies.” Choso announced excitedly, once again with his mouth stuffed.

“Yeah? Then why the hell are you eating them?” He grumbled, swatting the man on the back of the head as he raised his hands in mock defense. The pink haired man walked behind the counter, picking up your note and skimming it with a raised brow before casting his eyes to the side dismissively. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought you had flustered him. “Don’t gotta thank me for not being an asshole.”

As he leaned over to distract himself with checking the computer for his next appointment, Choso stared incredulously between him and you.

“You can thank me, I’m not an asshole.” He gushed, leaning his forearms on the counter to smile invitingly at you. His eyes skimmed your face before a flush fell over his cheeks. “Won’t tat you either if it means a pretty girl brings me cookies, too.”

“Quit being such a freak.” Sukuna growled as he elbowed him, finally tearing his gaze away from the computer to close the tin back up before Choso could steal another, but he was far too focused on getting your attention to pay the grouch any mind.

“How ‘bout a piercing, hm? Bet you’d look reeeal cute with a septum ring.” 

“Oh, um…” You flushed at his words, subconsciously reaching up to touch your bare nose. “I’m actually in ballet, and they’re pretty strict about—”

“Ballet?” Choso guffawed, much to Sukuna’s dismay as he huffed at the energetic man. “That’s so tight. So you do like shows and cool shit like that?”

“Yeah! I… actually have a recital coming up next week.” You explained enthusiastically, eager to connect in any way you can to the first person who’s shown you any sort of kindness since moving here. Without stopping to think about how desperate you might appear, you fished out a spare handout from your bag. “You should come— y’know, if you’re into that sort of thing.”

The pierced man before you snatched up the paper eagerly, dark eyes skimming the contents before he slumped in disappointment. 

“No can do, I’m working that night.” He sighed before turning to Sukuna, who had been watching the exchange with a barely concealed glare. “You should totally go though— he can go, right?”

You were undeniably flustered as you looked up at the man you had come here for, who looked less than enthused about your sudden turning up to the shop again. God, were you totally out of your element inviting this insanely attractive, crushingly edgy man to your ballet? Gulping down your nerves, you nodded softly, offering a timid smile. 

“Y-Yeah! Of course—”

“What the fuck would possess you to think I look like a dude who goes to ballets?” 

Your words died in your throat, and you felt all the blood rush to your face so embarrassingly fast that the only possible solace would be if the ground opened up below you and swallowed you whole. Looking down at your pristinely manicured nails, you dug your top lip mercilessly between your teeth. 

“Well, I-I usually invite my friends, but… it’s my first show since moving here, and I don’t… really know anyone, so…” It was as if you were growing more pathetic by the second, and you willed yourself to just shut the fuck up.

Sukuna, on the other hand, felt his stone cold heart shrivel up in horror at your words. Even with all the terrified glances he’d get from passerbyers on the street, and all the children he’d scared to tears with just a sharp glance their way, he had never felt like more of a monster than he did in that very moment watching your lively face dim so abruptly. 

He remembered what you had said the other day about trying to make some friends, and apparently you were desperate enough to get yourself in the position he’d had to pull you out of himself to do so. Beside him, he could feel Choso stepping on his toes as if to tell him to take it easy on you, but he was already wallowing in a pool of his own guilt. 

With a guarded scowl, Sukuna snatched the paper from his half-brother’s hands, red eyes skimming it furiously as you began apologizing for disturbing him. As you turned to make a desperate speed-walk toward the door, he spoke up. 

“Better be fucking good, brat.” 

Pausing mid-step, a subtle warmth spread in your chest as you slowly turned back around with a tickled smile. He didn’t deserve it, he was sure of it— not with the way your eyes lit up the entire room as if he’d just found the cure to cancer or solved world hunger. No, he’d just stepped on your innocent offer with the sole of his heavy, black boot after you’d just brought him home-made cookies for not tattooing you while you were under the influence. He didn’t deserve the way you flashed your teeth at him. 

“Heading to practice right now, boss.” You beamed with a mock salute before making your way to the exit with more pep in your step than had been there previously. Just before the door shut behind you, you shouted over your shoulder. “I hope you like the cookies!” 

“Why doesn’t this type of shit happen to me?” Choso questioned rhetorically as he stared longingly at the door you just left through with a shake of his head. “You’re a real asshole, you know?” 

And, boy, did he know it. 

While you had been flattered at Sukuna’s implication that he’d be showing up to your recital, a larger part of you was coming to terms with the fact that there was no way in hell that dude was coming. You couldn’t blame him. After all, you were essentially strangers, and it truly didn’t seem like his scene. Still, it would have been nice to have one person coming in your support. 

Sighing wistfully, you sprayed the final touches of hairspray into your slicked back bun, turning your head to the side to assure there were no stray strands. The lights of the dressing room mirror reflected the subtle glitter on your eyelids as you watched your fellow dancers bustle around behind you as they also prepared. 

Resisting the urge to bite at your lip for fear of ruining your lipstick, you glanced down at the message on your phone. 

Mom: Please send me a recording! I hate that I can’t be there for you today :(

In all your years as a dancer, you had always had someone there for you in the audience to cheer you on. Whether it be your family or your hometown friends, someone was always waiting for you outside with flowers and a proud smile. Swallowing down your self-pity, you gave yourself one last once over before you heard your three minute warning. If you weren’t dancing for anyone, you determined, you would just have to do it for yourself. 

That was the notion that got you through both of your group numbers and your solo. With every pointed kick and turn, you reminded yourself that this was for the life you were working so hard to achieve. The stage lights were blinding, and the beautifully orchestrated music almost made you forget that you were so upset in the first place. It showed on your face though, you were sure. After all, every instructor you’d ever had always told you that your expression would tell the story of your number louder than any lyrics ever could.

With all the preparation that went into every recital, you still never failed to be shocked whenever it ended so suddenly. There was a strong sense of pride bubbling in your stomach as your team met up backstage for a few celebratory photos. That familiar buzz came to an end though as everyone began departing, all greeted by friends, families, or lovers. With a wistful smile, you tugged your jacket tighter around yourself as you stepped out into the frigid air. 

“There you are— jesus,” A man sighed in exasperation as you accidentally shouldered into him, his hand closing around your arm before you could walk away. “All you people look the damn same with your hair like that.”

Looking up in bewilderment, your jaw fell open in surprise upon seeing that familiar head of pink hair. He was scanning the area with an awkward tension in his shoulders, as though he felt out of place in the midst of all these ballerinas— he certainly looked out of place. 

There was a black, button down dress shirt clinging mercilessly to his sculpted form, the first few buttons undone and revealing a teasing amount of his chest. As if it was the only color that ever graced his closet, his slim-fitting dress pants were also black, emphasizing his slim waist as it contrasted against his broad shoulders. 

Your lips parted as you took in his appearance, and you could swear the air around you grew at least five degrees warmer. As if your face couldn’t get any hotter, your eyes finally landed on the arrangement of flowers clutched in his hands. He glanced down at them with what seemed like an annoyed expression before shoving them toward you. 

“My brother said you’re supposed to bring crap like this to these things…” He explained, still not looking you in the eyes as you slowly took the bouquet into your arms.

“You actually came.” You commented, still a bit shell shocked to see him here. 

“I said I was gonna, didn’t I?” It came out harsher than he would have liked, but he couldn’t help but feel so oddly out of place before you. 

“Right.” You muttered pathetically, looking down at your feet so he wouldn’t see the flush in your cheeks. After taking a moment to compose yourself, you offered a hopeful smile that struck him like lightning. “Did you like the show?”

“You were alright, brat.” Sukuna grumbled as he peered down at you. 

It was a gross understatement though, because the man was absolutely floored when he saw you on that stage. It was unlike anything he’d ever seen before— so used to the heavy metal and the harsher things in life. As soon as that center light hit you though, reflecting the ardently despaired expression on your intricately done up face as you allowed the music to take hold of you, it was as though you had cast a spell on him. 

The flowers in his lap nearly dropped to the floor as he found himself subconsciously leaning forward in his seat, lips parted in disbelief. You were angelic, each of your calculated movements translating etherally into the overall story you were conveying through your choreography. Even the subtle positioning of your delicate fingers seemed intricately thought out, pulling him further into your orbit. It made him want to trap you in your own little snow globe to put you on his shelf, ready to twirl so breathtakingly each time he longed for it. 

Yeah, maybe alright was an understatement, but he couldn’t bring himself to admit it to you. Even now, as you smiled up at the waiter taking your order, Sukuna pretended not to be enamoured by the way your stage makeup made your eyes glitter under the restaurant's dim lighting. He had insisted on taking you to dinner following the show, not exactly asking and certainly not taking no for an answer as he led you to his sleek, black car with an urging hand on the nape of your neck. 

And you— you were far too elated to be making a friend to care about his off-putting demeanor. You barely had the chance to be remotely nervous over the fact that this teetered very closely on the edge of being a date with a man you would have deemed far out of your league just days ago. 

“So, you own the tattoo shop?” Your soft voice pulled him from his haze once the waiter placed your plates in front of you. You leaned forward on the table, a curious smile tugging at your red painted lips.

“Hah— yeah, that’s fucking hilarious.” He scoffed with an amused grin, leaning back as he took a sip of his drink. Taking note of the barely concealed confusion on your face, he cleared his throat, trying to remind himself to be on his best behavior. “I mean, I just finished my apprenticeship— don’t got the kind of money it takes to own my own shop.”

“Oh,” You muttered with a shy smile, suddenly feeling stupid for asking in the first place. “Well, I’m sure you’re really talented. I could barely draw a stick figure without making him look deformed.”

“Yeah?” He smirked, amused by your attempt to smooth over his negativity. You nodded affirmatively as you took a sip of your wine. There was a subtle flush in your cheeks that told him your drink was starting to catch up to you, and he made a mental note to stop the waiter from refilling your glass again. “And what about you, huh? You’d let me come at you with some ink since you think I’m so talented?”

A mock hum bubbled in your throat as you pretended to think about it. 

“I don’t know, you’d have to come up with something real cool.” You teased, running your hands dramatically up and down your bare arms. “This is virgin skin you’re seeing here— not to be tainted with any of those boring designs, you know?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” Sukuna assured with theatric sincerity, only spurring on your giggles as you played along. 

“It has to be something that’s me, you know?” You pursed your lips pensively before casting a sidelong glance his way. “Maybe like a pair of pointe shoes.”

“A pair of what?” 

 “Pointe shoes! You know, the shoes ballet dancers use?”

“That’s fucking lame.” Sukuna blew a raspberry at your idea.

“Oh yeah?” You quipped, biting down your embarrassment at his abrupt shut down of your suggestion. “What would you put on me then?”

The tattoo parlor was already closed by the time you and Sukuna stumbled inside, your excited giggle filling the deadly silent shop as he locked the door behind you and switched on the lights. He shrugged his jacket off, watching you carefully as you snooped around the store. 

“Why don’t you sit your ass down before you break something?” He grumbled, snatching a tattoo gun from your curious grasp before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs. You rolled your eyes playfully before sitting down across from him, swinging your dangling feet gently as you looked around. 

“So, what were you thinking then, boss?” You questioned, watching as he pulled out his sketchbook and flipped it open. Rummaging through the drawer for a pencil, he peered up at you with a raised brow. 

“I don’t know. Tell me something.” He murmured as he began a rough sketch. 

“Like what?”

“About you.” 

“Oh.” You looked down bashfully, toying with a run in your tights before shrugging at him. “I don’t know. Nothing to tell, I guess. I’m kind of boring.” 

“That’s bullshit.” He brushed off nonchalantly, not looking up from his book. You blinked owlishly at him a few times. Noting your silence, he continued. “I saw you dance— saw the look on your face. Can’t tell me there’s nothing to tell there.” 

You were taken aback by his astute observation, staring back at the way he concentrated so intently on his drawing. He didn’t look nearly as intimidating in this light. It was silent for a beat too long, and he glanced up at you, the sharp nature of his gaze sending shivers down your spine. 

“Well?” 

“Okay, well, um… I guess I just never know if I’m making the right decision? About anything ever?” You rationed with furrowed brows, trying to make sense of your own illogical feelings. “I moved here because of the dance program, because I thought that this was really what I wanted. Now I’m here though without all my friends and family, and I’m…”

“Lonely?” Sukuna finished for you as you trailed off. 

“I guess so. And, I mean, I know it’s supposed to be hard in the beginning, but I can’t help but feel like I made a massive mistake and my life is about to crumble around me?”

The sound of his pencil scratching against the paper filled the sudden silence that hung between you, but you knew he was listening. Taking advantage of his distraction, you stared unashamedly at his hunched over figure. The sleeves of his dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, revealing the black rings that were tattooed across both his arms. There was a subtle furrow in his brows, but for the first time since meeting him it wasn’t born out of anger or frustration, instead telling a story about his dedication to his craft.

You felt the breath get knocked out of you as you observed him. Frantically trying to veer back on topic before he noticed your creepy gawking, you cleared your throat before offering an enthusiastic smile. 

“Guess it’s just always been hard for me to commit to things.” You tried to wrap up your subtle sob story. “Maybe that’s why I’ve got no tattoos then, huh?”

He huffed out a breathy laugh, the corners of his lips curling up ever so slightly as he shook his head at your conclusion. 

“Is that what you want? You know, do this ballet shit for a living?”

“It’s all I’ve ever wanted.” 

“Then to hell with people. If they give a shit they’ll be there whenever you come back.” He scoffed as though the notion offended him personally. “You’re too talented to hold yourself back for that kind of crap.”  

His nonchalant compliment made your heart pound just a little bit harder.

“What about you?” You asked breathlessly, shaking off the butterflies waging war in your stomach. 

“What about me?”

“Why tattooing?”

“Wasn’t good at anything else.” He answered simply, and his dismissal made you roll your eyes. 

“Come on, I was just very honest with you.” 

“Yeah, well you’re probably better at all that sap shit anyway.” 

Sliding off the chair, you walked closer to him and leaned your elbows on the work table before him. Propping your chin on your fist, you grinned knowingly at him, though he still hadn’t looked up from his sketch. 

“Maybe that’s why then, huh?” You assumed. He hummed in question at your vague statement. “You draw cause you’re not good at all the… ‘sap shit’. If you don’t know how to say it, you draw it, right?” 

The careful maneuvering of his pencil slowed before pausing all together at your read. Of course, he’d always known that his drawings were an outlet for him, having learned through years of repressed feelings how to convey words through lines and swirls. No one had ever explained it so… simply to him before though. Taking note of his forlorn expression, your lips curled up empathetically. 

“I do it sometimes too, you know— when I feel too overwhelmed to put my thoughts into actual words. I put them into my choreographies instead.” 

“Yeah, it shows.” Sukuna finally spoke up,  suddenly uncomfortable with the serious energy that had invaded the space around them. Clearing his throat, he put his pencil down before handing you his sketchbook with an awkward scratch to his forehead. “That ‘you’ enough for ya?” 

Your pretty, pink nails clutched at the edge of his sketchbook, slowly bringing it toward you as you soaked in his creation with parted lips. Right in the middle of the page was a snow-globe, flowers that you recognized as the same type he’d brought you earlier decorating the base of it. Inside though, was a ballerina in the very costume you had donned just hours prior on stage, one leg curled up as her arms curved softly around her in the perfect pirouette position. 

“Sukuna, this is…” Your voice failed you as you gave each detail another weighted once over. Blinking back the haze that threatened to form over your eyes, you looked up at him with a besotted smile. There were stars in your eyes, and he didn’t deserve to be on the receiving end of them. “This is so beautiful. You’re incredible.” 

He tsked dismissively, trying desperately to conceal the softness in his gaze as he took in your reaction. 

“Why the snowglobe?” You questioned suddenly, glancing down at the sketch before flashing him with that eagerly curious grin. 

He opened his mouth only to shut it once again, not sure how to tell you of where his thoughts had taken him to while he watched you dance so gracefully across the stage. So, he simply huffed in feigned annoyance before snatching the book from you and jutting his chin toward the chair. 

“You questioning my artistic decisions now, brat?” He didn’t give you the chance to respond as you sat back against the leather chair. “So, where are we putting this thing?”

“Oh!” You quipped, suddenly coming to the realization that he was dead serious about giving you a tattoo. Anxiety creeped up in your stomach as you brought your hand up to chew apprehensively at your nails. “Um…”

“Don’t tell me you’re chickening out on me now.” Sukuna teased with a mischievous smirk.

“No!” You quickly defended, much to his surprise. “I want to do this— get over my fear of commitment, right?”

He hummed thoughtfully, brushing your jacket from your shoulders to inspect your arms. Grasping at your hand, he turned the inner side of your arm out to face him, purposeful in the way he allowed his fingers to trace up the delicate skin of your forearm. It made your breath hitch, his proximity allowing for a generous waft of his cologne to flood your senses. You clenched your thighs together in a manner you prayed was subtle. 

“I think it’d look good right here.” He suggested, grazing his thumb over the expanse of skin just above where your elbow creased. 

Taking in a calculated breath to pull yourself together, you quickly shook your head. 

“Can’t be anywhere too visible.” You explained, staring down at where his hand still wrapped around your elbow. “I mean, it can, but I’ll have to worry about covering it up for every performance.” 

Sukuna’s dark eyes glanced up to meet yours at this statement. His brows were raised in suggestion, an amused smirk pulling at his lips. 

“So your friends were serious about you wantin’ a ‘tramp stamp’ then? That what I’m  hearing?”

“I don’t want a— a tramp stamp.” You scoffed with flushed cheeks, but he was just too elated at how easy it was to fluster you. “I don’t know, where else do you think that can be covered up easily?”

Sukuna sighed, eyes trailing over your body in thought. It made you squirm in your seat. After a moment, he leaned forward to pull the lever on your chair, sending it reeling backwards until you were nearly laying flat. You squeaked in surprise, quickly grasping his arm for support as he smirked at your reaction. 

You watched as his hands came up to hover over the hem of your sweater before glancing up at you in question. Despite the way your heart was beating up into your throat, you nodded softly at him. It had to have been deliberate— the way he dragged your sweater up so agonizingly slow, assuring his fingers brushed against each inch of skin that was exposed on the way. You gulped as he paused just under your bra, and he was once again looking up at you in search of approval, to which you nodded silently, far too convinced you’d embarrass yourself should you speak.

With your approval, he tugged your hem up to rest just under your chin, trying to appear professional as he took in the sight of your bra-clad chest. The truth was though, that his thoughts were so very far from the tattoo at the moment, reveling in the way your breasts strained against the confines of your cups with each ragged breath you took. Your breathing had been growing heavier since the second he laid his hands on you— and he noticed each time. 

He trailed his hands up your sides, thumbs grazing over the divets of your ribs in a manner far too sensual to just be chalked up to searching for a good placement. As his pointer fingers traced where the wire of your bra met your skin, he hummed affirmatively. 

“It would look nice right here.” His raspy voice was almost a whisper now as he tucked his finger underneath the area of your bra just between your breasts, right over your sternum. 

A breathless whimper threatened to escape you, but you swallowed it back and looked down at where he had placed his finger. 

“Y-You think so?” You whispered, and he quickly nodded, gradually leaning over you more and more with the illusion of getting a better look. 

“Might be a little painful, but…” His voice trailed, as did his hand, escaping from under your strap to dance up your chest and neck. “I’ll let ya’ hold onto me if you’re good.”

You were sure your soul had left you at that point, off to find a body whose nervous system wasn’t utterly short-circuiting. Your knees drew together as you fought to maintain your composure at his suggestive words. 

“Sukuna, are we… still talking about the tattoo?” You questioned doubtfully, and the smirk on his plush lips told you you weren’t wrong. 

“Do you want it to be about the tattoo?”

“Well, it’s just…” He thought the way you stammered over your words was endearing, and it was sending all the blood in his system rushing down south. Glancing up at him timidly, you chewed on your bottom lip. “Would it hurt more if it’s… my first? You know… tattoo, of course.”

For the third time since meeting you, Sukuna was struck by the startling realization that he seriously didn’t deserve any of this. The hand that had been slowly traversing up your neck grasped at your jaw. 

“Well, I’d make sure you were good and ready first, doll.” He assured, eyes drifting down to stare longingly at your parted lips before meeting your heated gaze once again. “But you should always be sure you chose the right artist first, you hear?” 

And you heard him loud and clear. With your heart beat reverberating mercilessly in your ears, you nodded breathlessly at him.

“I trust you.”  

And oh, how hard he worked to assure you didn’t regret those words. Something told him you didn’t though— maybe the way those pretty, manicured nails were digging into his scalp just as his jaw began to ache deliciously in tandem with his mouth’s relentless ravishing of your perfectly supple pussy.

You were dripping down his chin, evidence of you tickling down his neck as he desperately tried to drink up every last drop of you. His colossal hands had come up to hold your trashing hips down against the chair after one too many jolts away from his eager tongue. The sound of his grotesquely sloppy, open mouthed kissed against your core filled your ears as you stared up at the ceiling blearily. 

You were so grateful that you always wore waterproof makeup for your performances, because you were sure your mascara would have been smeared unattractively down your face with the sheer force of your overstimulated tears. The saccharine moans that were hurdling their way from your throat made him dig his black fingernails into your stomach as he sucked on your clit as if rewarding you for the melodies. 

He grunted when the sensation made you yank at the roots of his hair, and you quickly gasped apologetically before releasing your tight grip. 

“Oh! I-I’m— ah! I’m sorry.”

Your disappointed whine made him smirk as his face suddenly emerged from between your legs to leer at you menacingly. One of his hands left your stomach to catch yours as it departed from his scalp, guiding it back affirmatively. 

“Tear the shit out if ya’ want— quit fuckin’ apologizing.” 

His words had your eyes rolling back into your skull, more confident now as you dug your fingers through his soft locks once again. The hand that had abandoned its post on your stomach never returned, and you instead felt it gliding purposefully up the inside of your thigh. Two of his long fingers sweeped up your weeping slit, gathering some of your arousal as his lips remained focused on your bundle of nerves. 

With a thrust that seemed so uncharacteristically careful of him, he dipped his two fingers into your sopping entrance. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, the heels of your feet finding the edge of the chair to pull yourself away from the subtle sting. 

“Easy, easy,” Sukuna rasped, tearing his mouth away from your honied center in favor of talking you through your unease. The remaining hand on your stomach began tracing soft, sensual circles against your silken skin. It made you slowly release your hitched breath, apprehensively relaxing back against the leather. “Atta girl, relax for me, yeah?”

You nodded deleriously up at the ceiling, head lolling to the side to watch what he was doing, not expecting to find his ruby eyes already focused on you. A flush fell over your face, hoping your expression didn’t give away how utterly torn apart he had made you with his tongue alone. A smirk tickled his glistening lips as you met his gaze, and he turned his head to press comforting, open mouthed kisses against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

After a few moments, his fingers began slowly pushing through the subtle resistance of your core. Casting a sidelong glance your way to catch your reaction, he gently curled his fingers up, digits massaging at the cusiony bundle of nerves at the roof of your walls, and god, how the blissed out popping open of your mouth failed to disappoint. 

Burning for a closer look, he rose from his knees to climb onto the tight space of the chair. It was by no means designed to hold two people— especially not when one of them is as abnormally overgrown as Sukuna, but he’d be damned if he couldn’t drink up those candied whimpers slipping past your lips. The steady pace of his fingers picked up as he hovered over you, taking a moment to soak in how beautifully debauched you looked just like this. 

“Sukuna—” You whined at the sensation of the steadily growing knot in your stomach, but he only offered a mockingly sympathetic nod. Your fingers dug into the soft fabric of his button down, clinging for dear life as he lowered himself closer to you until his lips brushed against your ear. 

“Call me Ryomen, doll.” 

And that was the very name that slipped from your lips in an almost strangled sob as you crumpled against him. His lips quickly found yours, though you were hardly able to reciprocate his kiss as moans continued spilling from you, falling into his awaiting mouth like a prayer. 

Much like the startled realization you had earlier that he was very serious about tattooing you that night, you were for some reason just as gobsmacked as you watched him rise with his knees trapping you in, purposefully unbuttoning his now wrinkled dress shirt as his hungry eyes stared down at you. He had pushed your sweater off of you just before burying his head between your thighs, and he was now reaping the reward of watching your breasts heave as you looked up at him. 

Your expression must have given you away, as it always seems to, as he stood up to work his belt off. The clinking of his buckle made your mind race, chest swelling with a feeling that you couldn’t decide was anticipation or anxiety. As he pulled the leather material through the loops of his dress pants and worked away at his button and zipper, he observed your horribly practiced poker face. 

He tilted his head to the side as his bottoms pooled at his feet, the outline of his erection now on full display for your already perturbed gaze. Maybe it was just because you’d never exactly seen one up close before, but, even through the straining fabric of his boxers, you were almost positive that thing wasn’t natural. Hiking yourself further up on the leather chair, you tried not to stare in a way that screamed fear. 

The motion made him pause, his thumbs slowly unhooking from their spot in the waistband of his boxers. A careful sigh escaped him, the tiniest of knowing smiles masking the subtle disappointment in his chest as he turned from you to pull up a stool. 

“W-What are you doing?” You questioned, watching with fluttering eyes as he leaned down to begin pulling supplies out from the drawer to place on the work table beside your chair. 

“I’m tattooing you— the fuck does it look like I’m doing?” 

Your mouth opened and closed much like a fish as you closed your legs self-consciously. His hair was still rustled from your fingers’ assault through it, and there was still a very prominent tent poking out through his boxers, though he still began prepping his station as though he hadn’t just been about to take your virginity in the middle of this tattoo parlor. 

“Well, um… what about you?” You stammered anxiously as he guided you by your shoulder to lay back. 

“What about me?” He murmured while pulling on a pair of gloves. 

“Didn’t you want to…” The words died on your throat, far too embarrassed to utter them aloud. Your eyes drifted to the side as you felt your face flush. “I mean you… helped me, so.”

Sukuna finally paused, tilting his head to look at you with a challenging raised brow. 

“I wouldn’t tattoo you in that chair cause you weren’t a hundred percent about it before. What makes you think I’ll fuck you in it when you clearly don’t want to?” His crude words only made your embarrassment grow that much deeper, but his fingers quickly came up to tilt your chin toward him before he winked teasingly at you. “Don’t worry— one commitment at a time, right?”

Your gaze softened at his consideration, even as he turned away from you to continue prepping his station. It made you forget how nervous you were that he was about to permanently mark you, but a small part of you already felt like he had. 

So, you allowed him to carefully pull your bra off when he asked, sighing wistfully as he pressed a longing kiss against each one before cleaning the area. Much like just minutes prior, he let you pull at his hair as the needle gradually began piercing your skin, laughing through your tears as he grumbled about how much of a wimp you were. His soft smile told a different story though as he sat still clad in his boxers and paused each time you needed to breathe, taking each opportunity to kiss and nip at your lips with the false pretense of taking your mind off the pain. 

You were sure the process was prolonged at least an hour longer than necessary with how long your breaks would last as he couldn’t bear to interrupt you as you nervously rambled about whatever came to your mind. As you began growing used to the subtle pain, you traced each of the black marks on his face as he worked with a fierce concentration. 

Pathetic tears of awe and shock spilled from your tired eyes as you stood in front of the mirror to observe his delicate handiwork. It was just as beautiful as it had been when he first showed you the rough sketch, though he would argue that your skin did it far more justice, chin hooked over your shoulder as he observed your reaction in the mirror. 

Sukuna scoffed at you when you tried to ask him the price, much to your mortification. He wouldn’t even look in your direction, busying himself with cleaning up the station as he pretended not to hear your countless protests. 

“You just spent like— hours doing this.” You gaped, through flushed cheeks as you jostled his arm. “Please, let me pay you.” 

“Wanna know how you can pay me?” He finally questioned gruffly, leaning back against the counter as he pulled you in closer to his bare chest. Breathlessly, you nodded, eyes unable to meet his as they were too focused on his curled lips. 

“Whenever you’re ready for your next big commitment,” He whispered, his warm lips brushing against the shell of your ear as you clung to his biceps. “Let it be me, yeah?”

part two

a/n: got the inspiration for this yesterday, blacked out, and suddenly it was finished the next day oops

masterlist | requests | talk to me ❤︎

I love hearing everyone's thoughts! ◝⠀(ᵔᵕᵔ)⠀◜

[talaok]

Love your writing! Could we please do a cute pregnant reader x Pedro going to and at the SAG awards in honour of our boy winning! 🤍🙏🏼

Pairing: Pedro Pascal x pregnant!reader

a/n: this is how i found out he won btw. I'm so happy for him i cant even, I just love that fucking guy gosh ahhhh (as always this request skipped the line bc it wouldnt make sense in a month)

Gif credits: @tessas-thompson

"thank you" you told him as he emerged from underneath your bump after having slipped your shoes on for you.

Turns out that when you're 7 months and a half pregnant, the most basic tasks like putting on shoes become a two person job.

He only smiled, kissing your belly and then your lips before standing up, offering you a hand to do the same.

"Heels would have looked much better with this dress" you pouted, studying yourself in the mirror, 

You hated ballerinas, but again, you weren't really in the condition to wear anything else.

"You look stunning sugar" he promised, kissing the crown of your head

You couldn't help but snort.

As much as he told you so over and over, together with everyone else in your life... you still struggled to see it, especially now in this uncomfortable dress.

"I look like a stuffed turkey" you sighed "and my boobs are so much bigger than when I first tried this dress, now they look a move away from spilling out"

His eyes twinkled with kindness, with love as he placed his hands on your waist and turned you towards him, away from your reflection.

"You're beautiful sweetheart" he promised, one hand now stroking your cheek as your own hands went to his waist "You're sexy and gorgeous and so fucking hot that if Coco wasn't still here I would demonstrate just how much right here right now" he growled, not giving you time to answer before he kissed you, soft at first, and then once you whimpered, it was like a switch turned and he was fiery and passionate and his left hand trailed to your ass and-

"Pedro!" you scolded him quietly, eyeing Coco on the other side of the room.

"she's seen worse"

She had.

Nonetheless, he took a step back, returning his hand to your waist.

"Thank you" you murmured, looking up into his hazel eyes "and by they way, you look very beautiful too"

You could have sworn you saw red staining his cheeks 

"thank you baby"

You adjusted his shirt, as you got lost in your own mind.

There he was, you beautiful, talented, Emmy, golden globe and SAG award nominated husband, looking every bit as perfect as ever.

And just like that, tears pooled in your eyes

"what's wrong?" he asked, worried

"I just-" you sniffled, trying to fight the tears as your lips trembled "I-I'm so proud of you"

"aw sweetheart" he cooed, half laughing as he wrapped you into his arms.

He'd gotten used to it now, taking care of your over-emotional self was part of his daily routine.

"Y-you just" you cried "you worked so hard a-" another quiet sob "and n- now you're finally getting the recognition you deserve I-"

"I know baby, I know" he cooed, softly kissing the top of your head "thank you" he smiled, his fingers drawing soothing circles on your back "It means a lot to me too,"

"I love you" you murmured, finally raising your head to look at him

"I love you too honey" he kissed you, laughing softly as he pulled back to see tears still running down your cheeks "You're gonna cry the whole night, aren't you?"

"I made the makeup artist use only waterproof products" was your way of saying yes, yes I'm going to, and yes I've already planned ahead

He chuckled, kissing your forehead as his hands trailed to your bump, soft kicks hitting his palms.

"She's excited" he murmured

"She's proud of her daddy too" 

__ __ __

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro Pascal.

Pedro P-

Your husband. they had called your husband.

It was probably comical from the outside, seeing the shock on both your faces as you stared blankly at each other, the way your mouth gaped open, while he slapped a hand onto his, it was like- it was like time had stopped, and the word went completely quiet, until- until-

"oh my god" you breathed, throwing your arms around him and hugging him so tight it probably hurt

He didn't dare speak a word as you leaned away, landing a kiss on his mouth as you gripped his face 

"go" you laughed, grinning like an idiot as tears glimmered into your eyes "go" you urged again, this time, having him comply.

You watched every step, every move, until he was right in front of the microphone, his award in his hands.

"This is umh" he mumbled "This is wrong for a number of reasons-" 

he was in shock, his voice trembling, his eyes watery, but he kept going

"b-but thank you hbo, Bella Ramsey, Craig Mazin, Neil Drukman, Frannie, and -" A shaky sigh fled his mouth, as he chuckled to himself "jeez louise I'm making a fool of myself and my wife is gonna make so much fun of me for it and-"

All the sudden his eyes were on you, 

"my wife" he smiled, his smile brighter than the sun "I wanna thank my beautiful, amazing, intelligent, and perfect wife" he said "I love you y/n, I love you and our daughter more than anything in this world and if I'm here today- If I'm here today is mostly because of you" 

You were shaking from how hard you were crying, from how happy, ecstatic, and euphoric you were for him.

"You've made me the happiest man on this earth, you've made me a dad, you- you're my everything sweetheart" he beamed "so thank you"

He stopped a moment, as if realizing only now this had all really happened

"And now I'm gonna stop talking 'cause I need to get down there to kiss you and try to make you stop crying" he laughed, ending his speech

"thank you, everybody, really, thank you"

__ __ __ 

He did exactly as he said,

he held you tight as he kissed you like the world was gonna end tomorrow, like if he didn't he was gonna die

And when he leaned away- when he leaned away time stopped once again, but as he pressed his forehead to yours, as you lost yourself in each other's eyes, you remembered

"You said it was wrong" you said, both your hands holding his face "but it's not" you shook your head, watching his eyes water "you deserve this baby, you do"

"sweetheart-"

"no" you shut him off, your voice hoarse from the sobs, but it didn't matter, you wanted him to know, you needed him to know "No I need you to understand that you do baby" You smiled "that you worked your ass off and that you deserve every single inch of this award" you took a deep breath, steadying your voice as you looked at him, so many unspoken words traveling between you

"ok?" you asked, finally

"ok" he beamed, kissing you again "God I love you so much"

[pombeom]

remember this? | taesan fic (nsfw)

pairings: dance!au, enemies/exes to lovers, mean!dom taesan x sub!reader, street dancer! taesan x ballerina! reader warnings: mirror sex, slight exhibitionism, teasing from taesan (this is probs gonna be a given in all my future taesan fics atp), reader is tough until she soon isn’t…,name calling, slut shaming, nicknames, raw sex, hair pulling, dub con, tit sucking, dirty talk?, rough sex, creampie, fluffy ending a/n: i love myself a good enemies to lovers so this just had to be written :/

With the competition getting near, you found yourself seeing more of the studio than your own home. Out of all your teammates, you were the chosen one so naturally you felt the pressure this put on your skills and ability. Attending a renowned dance academy had its advantages but being given the responsibility to represent your school was both an honour and a burden. This only meant you had to put in the extra effort to show your worth to both the academy and the judges. You needed to prove yourself. 

Ever since being selected at the audition, your rehearsal schedule has been vigorous. Aside from the compulsory competition practices set by your dance teacher, you’d booked the studio for an extra few hours each day to get in the practice. With each step and each turn, you felt the choreography being etched into your body until till there was no more room for error, for the competition was now only days away. Everything you had worked for so far was about to play out in just a few days. 

“Alright, I think that’s enough for today. Just make sure to work on your turn out. It’s a little weak on your arabesques,” your teacher comments whilst packing her things away. 

“I noticed too. I’ll work on it now.” 

“Now? Aren’t you going home?”

“No, I booked the studio for a few more hours so I can practice a bit more.” You weren’t supposed to let her know, but it slipped out. Your dedication wasn’t as well-received as you’d expected. 

“Y/n. What did I tell you. Our class schedule is enough. The first few weeks I understand but it’s getting out of hand now. You practically live here. Soon you’re going to end up overworking yourself which will affect your performance at the competition. We can’t afford to lose it again. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Miss Everett. But since I already booked it for today, can I just use today as one last extra practice,” you begged, trying to see her into reason. 

“Fine. But if I hear you in the studio past 10pm, then I might have to ban you from being able to book it for extra sessions in the future and I’m sure you don’t want that. Understood?” 

“Yes, Miss Everett.” 

“Good,” she nods approvingly, granting you one of her rare smiles, “I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Have a good evening!” 

The door slams behind her as she leaves the room. It was just you in here. You and your reflection. Casting your eyes upon yourself, you pull your legs into an arabesque, noticing your sickled foot. Shifting its position, you attempt to get it into the right alignment when the door crashes open once again. 

Immediately dropping your leg back to the ground, you turn your eyes to meet his sharp gaze in the mirror. His lips instantly lift into a soft smirk, teasing you for being alone in the studio once again. He’d intruded on your private space and with that thought your blood boils as you grit your teeth awaiting an explanation. 

“What a surprise! You’re here again,” he exclaims, his tone flooded with sarcasm. 

“I booked the studio so of course I’m here. Can’t say the same for you though,” you scoff, ensuring your irritation was explicitly conveyed, “I don’t enjoy being interrupted mid-practice.” 

“I’m sure you don’t. But I booked this studio.”

“No. You didn’t. You’re in another one. I booked it for 8pm today.” 

“The confirmation message says otherwise.” He shows you his phone, confirming the date and time of the booking and you run to check your phone immediately. 8pm Tuesday. You’d booked it for the wrong day. Your face turns red, embarrassed to admit your mistake to him.

“Now if you don’t mind, can you leave. I’ve got to practice.” 

You slumped over as you begin slipping off your pointe shoes, complaining to yourself about his bad attitude. 

“Is that mumbling I hear?” The arrogance visible in his voice and composure as he crosses his arms, looking down at you in front of him. 

“No. You must be hearing things,” you state, standing back up once again, “now, if you move, I’ll be on my way.” 

“What if I don’t?” his smirk had only grown longer since the time he’d first entered, only causing your irritation to explode within you. 

“Han Taesan! Move out the way!” 

“Woah woah, calm down Shorty.” 

He knew you hated that nickname and yet he continues to insist upon using it. You dropped your bag back on the floor, pushing his shoulders with all your might. Your brows arched into that of anger as you continue to hit against his chest, pushing him towards the mirror until he’s cornered against it. 

“Call me that again and you won’t know what’s come over you.” 

“Is that right? Shorty?” 

It doesn’t take him long to turn you around, slamming your back against the glass. His arms cage you in between his chest, his face inching closer to you. Heart beating faster at the lack of space between you, you put up with your act of anger, grabbing the fabric of his t-shirt, moving him even closer to you. 

“I fucking hate you.” The words come out through the grit of your teeth. 

“Is that so? What are you going to do about it?” His infamous smirk once again plastered across his face, almost as if he was diminishing your sense of being. It didn’t help that he stood towering over you, standing at a head taller. 

Without a cue or warning, his arms shift place to instead wrapping around your waist almost swallowing your entire being. 

“Do you remember this? You used to love being wrapped up in my arms,” he taunts, giving your waist a squeeze. 

The past flashed in front of your eyes. The times when you were both so carefree, messing around in bed almost every other day and on nights when he wasn’t deep inside you, you’d be watching your favourite shows, or cooking dinner together. Before he disappointed you and left you to fend for yourself as he gave you up for his first love. Dance. You knew well enough that a dancer’s love will always remain with their art, you just didn’t know that that love couldn’t be shared with another person. Maybe you didn’t love your art as much as he did. Maybe that’s why you were so hurt by his betrayal. Those maybe’s slowly tore you apart after your breakup. You swore to yourself to love your art just as much as Taesan did his, if not even more. You became obsessed with the idea of being more dedicated to your dancing than he was. But where did that lead to now? 

“That was then. Back when you weren’t a fucking jerk.” 

“Do you ever miss it?” 

“Miss what?” 

“This.” 

Within seconds he lifts you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he uses this as his gateway into getting even closer to you. The cold mirror presses against your half exposed back with the goosebumps travelling down your spine. 

“Do you ever miss me holding you like this, knowing what comes after?” 

“Taesan…let go,” your voice was weak, knowing you didn’t mean it. 

Your attempts to push him off only resulted in him tightening his grip around your thighs. It was embarrassing how quickly you folded, with each push getting weaker as your arms became jelly under his touch. 

“I’ll let go when I want to. Now be a good girl and take me like you used to.” 

Dropping you to the ground, his hands wandered around your body effortlessly, meandering through the familiar curves. The straps of your leotard fell down your shoulders as he pulled them down revealing your half naked torso. The only thing blocking him from you was the black bra he gifted you on your anniversary 3 years ago. 

“Still got this, huh?” He teases, pinging the strap of your bra. 

With ease, he removes it from your body, staring intently at your perky tits as your nipples hardened upon contact with the cold breeze of air. Whilst one hand goes up to play with your nipple, his mouth takes care of the other, sucking around the skin of your boob. 

“Fuck! Taesan. Stop!” Your words said one thing whilst actions meant another. Your handed tangle into his hair pulling him closer to your chest, heightening the sensations of his mouth on your sensitive buds. 

The sound of a pop bought you back to your sense as he released himself from your tits. He scans the rest of your body before ripping your nearly tied skirt off your waist and pulling down your leotard to the floor, along with your tights and panties.

You felt so exposed standing naked in the vastness of the studio. The studio which you saw as the holy grail as it stood by you through thick and thin. It felt wrong to be in such a vulnerable state in a place where you knew you were going to be in the next day with your unsuspecting teacher.  

“Turn around,” he commanded. 

One swift move and your facing your naked form in the mirror as he pushes your head against the mirror, pulling your lower half closer to his as he begins grinding his clothed dick against you. 

“Fuck, you’re dripping. Such a slut aren’t you?” You peer down at his grey joggers, noticing the evident wet patch you’ve created which only turned you on more.

His slow pace picks up and his actions almost emulate him fucking you despite being fully clothed as he grabs your hips, pounding them against his tented cock. 

“Taesan, please!” Your moans were stifled as he pushes against your head harder, the mirror fogging up against your face. 

“Please what? Use your words. You were given a mouth for a reason. Or was it so you could suck my cock like the slut you are? Remember how feral you used to go over my dick?” His chuckle echoed through the room, only further getting your closer to your orgasm.

“Taesan, fuck me. I need you inside me. I wanna cum.” 

“My bitch wants to cum does she? Didn’t you say you hated me just a few minutes ago? Now you want my cock inside you pounding you like I used to?” 

“Mhmm! Please!” Your begging was received with his devious laughter. He loved the control he had over you and deep down you knew you loved it to. You missed it. 

“Only because you insist.” 

He pulls off his T-shirt over his head in one swift move, then immediately removing himself of the remainder of his clothes, allowing his hard, long cock to spring free. He aligns the tip over your throbbing core, pushing in half his length before pulling back out again. 

“Is this what you wanted?” He asks before repeating the same action. 

Taking matters into your own hands you begin sinking your hips down onto his dick, taking it all in as it hits the top of your cervix. 

“Who said you could do that? I’m in charge, don’t forget.” His hands take their place on your hip, gripping it so firmly as to disallow you from moving it any further. 

He pulls out his length completely, leaving you whining over the loss of contact. It only takes him a few seconds before he slams it back in, sharp and strong as the vibrations hit your throat, leaving you gasping for air as you let out a strangled moan. 

“You like that bitch?” Your frantic nodding only boosts his ego as he repeats it once more, before he sets up a rhythmic pace of thrusting into you. 

It doesn’t take long for you to re-familiarise yourself with his veiny cock, going dizzy at the way he’s stretching you out. 

“Faster! Please!” 

“My baby wants me to go faster? Only if you look at yourself in the mirror. Watch how well you’re taking me.” 

You instantly move your head from the mirror, feeling hazy at the sudden shift in position, Taesan continuing to fuck your brains out. 

You see yourself in the mirror, face and hair disheveled as you look up to meet Taesan’s lust filled eyes. Just as he promised, his lace picks up making your legs wobble. If it weren’t for his hands holding you up, you were certain you would have passed out. You drop your head as the pressure builds up in your core, your vision going blurry with the build up of tears. 

“Look up. I told you to watch yourself in the mirror.” His hands grab ahold of your ponytail, pulling it backwards to your head faces the mirror once again, “I want you to watch yourself fall apart on my cock. Look at you. Fucked dumb already?”

“Taesan…Ahhh! I’m gonna cum!” Your whine screeches throughout the room, desperately praying the room was soundproof. 

“Fuck. Me too. Cum with me.” 

The last few thrusts were sharp and calculated as his hand wanders down to your leaking pussy, stroking your swollen clit. Seconds later, your orgasm explodes, the tingling travelling throughout your body as you drop to the floor, your legs finally giving up on you. Taesan’s cum erupts out of you like a volcanic eruption, staining the polished wooden floors in sticky white. 

“You missed this didn’t you?” 

You had no energy left in you to respond but that was enough for Taesan to figure out the answer. 

“I’ve missed you.” 

His confession appeared out of nowhere as you lift your head up to meet his. He was now crouching on the floor to be level with your glowing face. 

“Taesan…” 

“If you don’t want me back, I understand. Just know that there’s not a day that goes by where I’m not thinking about you. From the way you laugh to the way you fit in my arms, I’m always thinking about you.” His words were much more gentle than they were before. You were reminded of your past once again. 

“I missed you too Taesan, in more ways than you can imagine. You broke my heart yet you were all that I could think about.” 

“I never should have abandoned you. My dance is important but never as important as you, baby. I’ve realised that too late.” 

“It’s never too late. I want to be held by you again. I want to kiss you like I used to and simply live like we did before. Before we were all-consumed by dance.” 

“I want to go back to that. If you’ll let me, can I ask you out? Will you be my girlfriend again?” 

Pulling him closer, your arms wrap around his neck, attaching your lips to his, the kiss was soft yet passionate enough to have your stomach fluttering from butterflies. 

“Yes. Of course I’d say yes. Let’s have a do over.” 

Competition day rolled around as both you and Taesan paced around nervously in your respective changing rooms. You mentally go over the choreography which you had injected into your limbs and calm down the nerves. 

“Y/n, go up to the stage please. You’re on after Set 14. That gives you 3 minutes.” 

You nod your head and thank the runner before heading over to side stage where Taesan is already awaiting your arrival. He picks you up in a warm embrace, spinning you around before placing you back down, caressing your cheek fondly. 

“I know you’ll be great! Now go and show them that you’re my girl. Good luck, Shorty.” 

“Fuck you, Taesan.” You giggle, slapping his arm playfully at his teasing remark. 

“You can but after you perform. I’m on in a bit too. So how about tonight? We can have a celebratory fuck.” He raises his eyebrows, nudging you as you hide behind your hands. 

“We’re in public for God sake! Stop messing around.” 

“Who said I’m messing around?” 

“Ugh. You’re lucky I love you.”

“Indeed I am.” 

“Y/n, you’re up. Make your way to your starting position please.” The runner calls out as you give Taesan one last hug before making your way onto the stage. 

His mischievous smile removed you of all your nerves, leaving you instead with confidence that you’ll perform your piece to the best of your ability, which you did considering you came 2nd place in ballet out of 32 dance schools across the country. Moreover, Taesan won first place for street dance, having you both jumping around in your tight hug. 

“I guess we do deserve a good fuck after this then. I’m so proud of us,” he taunts, as you nudge his shoulder. 

“I guess we do,” you reply, running off as he chased behind you, catch you by your waist and wrestling you down onto the couch in your changing room. 

His eyes scan the room to make sure the door behind you was closed as he whispers, “Do you think you can wait or do you wanna let me fuck you now?” 

“Now? Are you kidding?” 

“Well, yeah. As long as you stay quiet.” 

[777nicetits]

look who’s back ;P

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ baseball player!schlatt x physiotherapist!reader, mentions of injuries, a lot of bickering, not proofread. english is not my first language.

“Where is he?!” You borderline scream as you enter the locker room, the sea of (luckily clothed, save for a couple shirtless ones) players turning their heads over to where you and the nurses stood at the door.

To your right, you heard the unmistakable and ever so insufferable sound of a gravel, low chuckle. Your head whipped in its direction, fire burning behind your dilated pupils as your eyes found his. Standing by the entrance to the showers (mistake number one, not supposed to put any weight on his left leg), a damp towel thrown over his shoulder and another one wrapped around his hips (mistake number two, no full body showers, no wetting the bandage), the dirty uniform he wore previously carelessly laid on the ground next to his feet (mistake number three, absolutely no playing for the next three months).

Mother. Fucker.

“You gotta be shitting me!” This time you screamed. The room erupted in laughter, but you didn’t find anything about this situation funny.

With a heavy sigh you looked over your shoulders, head nodding once, the silent signal for the nurses to go get him, and so they did, walking over to the man with the wheelchair he hated so much.

Schlatt stumbled backwards, the back of his knee hitting the wooden bench behind him and almost knocking him onto his ass. “Hey! What’s this about?”

“You’re late for your physical therapy session. Y’know, the place you should’ve been instead of in the field, disobeying my direct orders!?”

He scoffed. “Can I at least put some clothes on? Or you want me to go like this, doc?”

I’m gonna kill this bitch, you thought.

But, instead of jumping on him like a hungry lioness and taking a piece of his jugular off with your own teeth, you just inhaled deeply, holding the oxygen in your lungs for a couple of seconds before letting go.

“Just bring the clothes,” you said calmly, “we’ll help you put them on in the clinic. Can’t risk you putting any more weight on your feet.”

Out of excuses, Schlatt reluctantly sat down on the wheelchair. Huffing and puffing his way out.

“I can’t believe you did that!” You slammed the door to your office open, the wood plank hitting against the wall and making everything on it shake.

Schlatt, who now had a shirt on and had taken control of his own wheelchair, rolled his eyes as he rolled himself in. “You’re so dramatic. It was just a light practice, I didn’t even-“

“Dramatic?!” You did a 180°, twirling like a ballerina to angrily face him. “Schlatt, you’re 100% my responsibility. If you keep disregarding what I tell you, you won’t get any better, and if you don’t get any better the higher ups are gonna blame me for that! I could lose my job!”

Schlatt kept looking up at you with a blank expression, and it was your time to roll your eyes. “Dunno why I’m telling you any of that, it’s not like you care anyways.”

You walk over behind your desk, opening the top drawer and taking some new bandages to replace Schlatt’s damp one, while he takes the moment you weren’t looking to get up, quickly throwing the towel around his hip to the floor and putting his underwear on.

“You’re not gonna lose your job.” He grunted, sitting back down on the wheelchair.

“Sure buddy,” you scoffed, closing back the drawer, “because when they ask you why haven’t you recovered you’ll tell them that’s it’s ‘cause you didn’t listen to me.”

“You think I’m that much of a douchebag I’ll just throw you under the bus like that?”

You crouched down in front of him, placing his feet on top of your knee, fingers working skillfully as you undid the bandage, careful as to not hurt him in the process.

“You’re not a douchebag, Schlatt,” you sighed, “I just know where your priorities lie. And I don’t blame you, I’d do the same if I had the talent you do… and the salary.”

With yours eyes still fixated on changing the bandage on his sprained ankle, you heard him scoff. “My priorities? Yeah, right.” He leaned in, hand cupping your chin and lifting your head up, your eyes meeting his. “Maybe you should let me take you out for a couple drinks, show you where my priorities really lie.”

To say that his offer took you by surprise would be an overstatement. Ever since you started working with the Yankees, Schlatt has always flirted with you, just for fun (and you always send him on some HR visits, y’know, just for fun), but this is the first time he’s ever gotten this close to you, touching you while he talks with that smooth voice of his, that stupid grin plastered on his face. The bastard knows what he’s doing, and he knows he’s good at it.

You placed his feet back on the floor with little care, making him wince, and got up, your thighs burning a bit.

“You haven’t seen miss Anderson this month, have you?”

“Oh c’mon, toots,” he chuckled, “you can’t pretend you don’t like the attention forever. Just give me one night, you won’t regret it, I swear.”

You looked down at him, arms crossed over your chest. It’s not a matter of liking the attention, it’s more of a matter of not hating it. Or at least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself.

“I’ll call Nelson to come help you put your pants.” You say after awhile of silence, making your way over to the door.

Schlatt lets out a breathy laugh. “Just so you know, I won’t let it go until you say yes!” He screamed as you walked away, leaving him by himself in your office.

You shook your head, a dumb little smile on your face.

I really hope you don’t.

aaaand scene 🎬 !! it took me three whole days to write this lmao, what can i say? i’m just that good at procrastinating 🤪

[spookwriter-xo]

Coppélia

Chapter 1 - The Doll That Came To Life

Chapter Summary - Y/N performs her first show as the lead ballerina, little does she know she caught the eye of an admirer.

Series Masterlist

It was no secret that the Grand Ballet Society was the best. Ever since I was a little girl I dreamed of being a part of it all, dreamed of performing in front of men and women who admired the art as much as I did. I couldn't believe it when I was offered a position at 17.

My parents hated the idea and forbade me to go. How could their eldest daughter take over the estate if she was too busy galavanting around on stage in a tutu and leotards? I didn't care though, I had a chance to have my dream and I took it.

I just wished they could see me now.

I'd been a part of the society for almost 5 years now, and not once in that time had anyone in my family come to watch me perform. At least not to my knowledge. It often left a bitter taste in my mouth when I'd think about the first few months after, how quickly my parents were to drop me the second I defied their orders. I was really just an heir.

Tonight was the opening night of the play Coppélia. It's about a doll that comes to life and captures the heart of a young man and was first created in 1870. It was one of my favorites of all time, and I got to play the lead.

I stood in my dressing room, fixing my hair to make sure it was neat and out of my face. I let out a soft exhale, opening night was always the worst. Mistakes could be made at every twist and turn and the expectations were high from the audience.

A firm knock on my door made me jump. "Y/N We're starting." The director's voice calls from the other side before his footsteps hastily retreat. I take another deep breath before rushing out to get to my position.

I brush past the male lead, Miles, who offers me a comforting smile. "Hey." He says, stopping me for a moment. "You're gonna do great, okay?"

"You too," I say, giving his arm a soft squeeze before pulling away and rushing to my starting position.

Go time.

I stumbled into my dressing room with a beaming smile. That couldn't have gone any better. I let out an excited squeal as I sat on the plush couch. Not to sound self-absorbed, but I did amazing. My excitement was short-lived as I was temporarily distracted by the bouquet of flowers sitting atop my dresser. Gifts already?

I stand and look at the pretty pure white Gardenia bunched up and placed neatly in a glass vase. I notice a note placed beside it on the counter, the words 'Pretty Ballerina' written out in neat cursive.

I pick it up with a small smile and unfold the card.

'To the pretty ballerina,

I couldn't imagine a more fitting beauty to play such a role. Please do not be deterred from the early gift, I could not help myself. You amazed me and others with your performance, even though it is opening night!

I've always been a fan of Ballet, however, this is the first time in a long time that I have been completely captivated by one of the dancers. I hope to see you continue on stage, and one day I may even show you my face. Enjoy the Gardenias, known for their purity and sweetness. I'll send you many more gifts in the future.

From, Seonghwa'

I stare at the name at the bottom of the page. Seonghwa, huh? I smile as I put the card down, my fingers lightly touching the Gardenias petals as I let the smell engulf my senses. A part of me hoped this secret admirer would come and visit, another part of me hoped he wouldn't. Either way, I assumed this wouldn't be the last I'd hear from him.

And I was right.

Over the next few weeks my apartment and dressing room slowly turned into a florist from the amount of flowers and gifts Seonghwa had sent me. They letters of admiration slowly turned into love letters, causing my heart to race with excitement after every show.

I needed to see him, needed to know who he was, and I felt like I would slowly eat myself alive. I got butterflies just from the words he wrote on paper. Would I feel the same if I saw him?

I hatched a plan to catch him. I left him a note tapped to my mirror to wait so I could see him. I didn't have high hopes at all. He'd written in his letters how he had no time to stay, how he longed to hear my voice and see my smile up close. I needed to meet him desperately, and I prayed as I danced that tonight would be the night where my wishes would be granted.

As I walked into my dressing room after yet another amazing show, I let out a soft gasp. A tall man dressed in a black suit stood by my dresser. He was handsomely pretty, his features sharp but his eyes soft. His hair was long and styled back, making him look like he walked straight out of Dorian Gray.

"Seonghwa?" I ask softly, stepping forward. I could feel the heat on my cheeks, glancing in the mirror to see a light pink hue. He smiles as he hears my voice, clearly liking his name on my lips.

"Hello, Y/N, is it?" He asks, god even his voice is pretty. Was this really the same man who sent me those letters? I smile softly and nod, moving to stand in front of him properly. "You truly are the prettiest thing I have ever laid eyes on." He murmurs softly, his eyes scanning my body. My cheeks were surely red by now as I lowered my head to hide away from his intense gaze.

I've been flirted with before, it's no surprise, especially in such a big city. However, no flirting attempt had ever come from a man whose beauty could compare to a Greek god. None of them actually worked either.

"You're the one who has been sending me gifts?" I ask, looking back up at him to see him beaming down at me.

"I hope you don't mind. I understand it could seem weird that I've come to every show." He says sheepishly.

"No, not at all! I've started to look forward to your letters." I say with a soft laugh. If a smile could get any brighter, his did. I couldn't help myself but to return it.

"Are you free tomorrow? For brunch?" He asks, holding out a card between his middle and index finger for me to take.

"Is this you asking me out on a date?" I ask, taking the card from his hand, making sure to brush my fingers against his. He purses his lips at the contact, trying to suppress his growing smile.

"It can be a date if you want it to." He says, his voice like honey as his hand lingers for a moment.

"I'll give you a call." I say, holding his card tightly as he nods.

"I wish I could stay longer. However, work calls." He apologizes, tilting his head as he moves away, taking his warmth with him. I wondered what he did. He had to make a lot of money to come to every single one of these shows because they sure as hell weren't cheap.

"I'll see you around then?" My words came out as a question rather then a statement.

"Definitely." He says, bowing like a gentleman before he turns to leave. I furrowed my eyebrows as I looked down at his card. His phone number was written in neat font with his name 'Park Seonghwa' written above it. Below his number was a company name; ATZ Corp.

I recognized the name; ATZ Corp was a company started by an old money family, the Kims. I knew their son, Hongjoong, had taken over the company a few years ago and had hired a few of his close friends from college to help run it. They worked with real estate mostly, however, I had heard rumors that they also did work in the underground. After finally meeting Seonghwa, I didn't really believe it. He looked far too neat in his appearance to work for a gang, let alone the mafia.

I turn back to my mirror and laugh softly at the fresh bouquet of Gardenias waiting for me. He never bought fake flowers and never anything other than the same pure white Gardenias. They must be his favourite, or he assumed they were mine.

The sound of the director calling us for a briefing snapped me out of my haze. Quickly tucking the card into my purse, I rushed out of my dressing room to meet with the cast.

I tried my best to pay attention. However, my brain kept sweeping me back to Seonghwa. His smile, his warm aura, the excitement that bubbled up inside me as our hands touched even if it was brief. I couldn't help but let my mind wonder into what could be.

[whotfelsewantedtobelynnyx]

Chat, I regret to inform you that I have added a new hyperfixation…so…

Agatha All Along Incorrect Quotes!

Alice: Hold the fuck up.

Also Alice, crawling into Lilia’s lap: It’s me. I’m the fuck up. Hold me.

Rio: I have an idea!

Jen: No murder.

Rio, sighing petulantly: I no longer have an idea.

Lilia: I have a bad feeling about this…

Agatha: What do you mean?

Alice: Don’t you ever get that little voice in the back of your head that tells you if something is going to get you in trouble?

Agatha: No.

Jen: That actually explains so much.

Lilia: As far back as I can remember, I’ve always had this little voice in my head telling me to “live it up today, because there’s not gonna be a lot of tomorrows”.

Agatha: You do realize there’s medication designed to get rid of those kinds of voices, right?

Teen: A bird flew in through my window and I’m trying to befriend it.

*later*

Agatha: Why don’t you quit bothering me and go talk to your bird friend?

Teen: Matthew and I are not speaking at the moment.

*the coven, huddling together behind a makeshift shelter to shield themselves from repeated gunshots*

Alice, hastily shoving the others behind her so she can return fire: Agatha, do you have any idea who would want to shoot you?!

Agatha, squashed between Jen and Rio: Many people want to shoot me. I take great pride in that!

Jen, glaring at the group as she hands over bail money:

Alice, tapping her shoulder: What about Teen?

Jen, glaring more: I’ve got to bail him out too? Where’s Agatha?

Teen: No one called her. We used Lilia’s phone call to call Alice and Rio’s to call you. Then Rio used my phone call to vote for American Idol.

Rio: :)

Jen: Rio isn’t answering her phone.

Agatha: Here, I’ll try.

Jen: Alice and I have tried six times each, what makes you think that-

Rio, picking up on the first ring: Hey, sweetheart.

Agatha: The ends always justify the means!

Jen: Do you know who said that?

Agatha: Was it Oprah or someone nice and great like that?

Jen: It was Machiavelli. A decidedly non-Oprah like person.

Jen: I bet you didn’t even finish the thing I asked you to get done!

Agatha: For your information, I most certainly did! Got it done last night!

Teen, whispering to Agatha: You didn’t get it done, did you?

Agatha, whispering back: I don’t even know what she’s talking about.

Lilia: I am at a loss for words!

Teen, glancing at the camera like his mom like he’s on The Office: Despite being lost for words, Lilia yelled at us for the next 45 minutes.

Agatha, carrying Señor Scratchy out of the room:

Señor Scratchy: *snuggles under her chin*

Agatha, kissing his head: You are being punished. Please stop being adorable. I love you.

Teen: I got a trampoline tent for summer sleepovers!

Jen, whispering to the other adult witches: …think of all the sex.

Alice: There are two types of people.

Rio: If you wanted to eat someone, you could put a fire under it and slowly roast them :)

Lilia: …three. Three types of people.

Jen, cautiously: I can’t believe I didn’t notice this before, but…Teen, you are a little crazy.

Teen: Aren’t we all a little crazy here, Jen?

Jen: No, I mean you’re aging-ballerina, child-chess-prodigy, professional magician kind of crazy.

Teen: It’s my mom’s fault. You know, we come from a Jewish family, but she used to tell me the reason Santa didn’t come was because my room was too dirty.

Rio: I’ve come looking for trouble. And if I can’t find trouble, I WILL create some.

Alice: Do you trust me?

Lilia, smiling proudly at her: Yes.

Alice, who has been completely panicking: Wait, what? Why?!

Agatha, awkwardly glancing around for help: Er…Alice, I’m gonna be honest, I don’t know what to say to people who are crying. So I’m just gonna hope that the tone of my voice makes you think I do, okay, sweetie?

Alice, sniffling: …thanks, Agatha.

Agatha, patting her on the back with a bit too much enthusiasm: No problem, kid.

Lilia: I told Agatha about it weeks ago!

Teen: She WHAT?

Agatha: What??? Lilia says insane shit all the time, how was I supposed to know this one was true?!

Lilia: Bank accounts are a sham created by the shadow government!

Agatha: SEE?!

BONUS:

Wanda, watching from the afterlife: so…when exactly do kids grow out of that whole emo, rebellious stage?

Lorna, shrugging: I don’t know. Alice is still in it.

[writingonleaves]

i've been yours since you stepped through the door tonight - andrei svechnikov

pairing: andrei svechnikov x original female character

warnings: swearing, drinking alcohol, lotta fluff, inaccuracies regarding anything athletic trainer related (timeline of training, terminology, etc), proofread maybe once, mentions of injuries, author has never been to raleigh, mostly based off the first hald of the 2023-2024 season but i couldn't be bothered to keep track how often svech had been in and out lmfao

title: "almost touch me" by maisy kay, also inspired by "lowkey" by NIKI

word count: 16k

author's note: this idea's been swirling around my head for awhile now, but @wyattjohnston's summer fic exchange 2024 inspired me to really revive it. @callsign-denmark, this is for you, my friend. i hope you enjoy it!

~*~*~

“Chrissy!”

Christina turns around from where she’s restocking ice packs in the training room. She nods at the smiley Russian. “Svech.”

He walks to her and swings an arm around her shoulder in a friendly side-hug. “Good summer?”

“It was alright,” her summer back home in the Delaware suburbs wasn’t anything to write home to. And Andrei Svechnikov is technically a coworker who doesn’t need to know everything. “Good to be back though.” 

“I know what you mean,” he says. Andrei leans back against one of the treatment tables. “You graduated, right? College?”

She blinks. When did she ever mention that to him last season? “I did. Back in May. The week after playoffs ended.”

“Congratulations.”

She smiles genuinely, turning to face him completely. “Thank you. Did you need something?”

“Nope,” he says with a smile that somehow still stuns Christina even after a season of seeing it so much. “I just wanted to say hi and welcome back.”

“Well, welcome back to you too.” As he’s turning away to go to fitness testing, she calls out. “Hey! Come back after you’re done. Should check on the knee before you go home.”

He halts, turning back around with a raised eyebrow. “Is that part of my regimen to get back to playing?”

“Has Doug told you?”

“Told me what?”

Clearly not then. Trust her boss, who’s lovely but also like a purposefully annoying father, to leave it to her to break the news. “They put me in charge of you this season.”

“Me?”

“Well, your recovery. And not completely. Obviously, Doug will still have final say. But if anything’s going on, I’m your person. Especially as you’re getting back into it.”

“Oh?” Andrei smirks and Christina refuses to be affected by it. 

“Is that gonna be a problem?”

He shakes his head slowly. “Of course not. I trust you.”

“Then I better see you before you leave today.”

“Deal.” He shoots her one last smile. “Bye Chrissy.”

“See you later, Svech.” Andrei brushes shoulders with Brady and they exchange excited greetings. She waits until Andrei leaves the room and smiles. “What can I do for you, Brady?”

“Got any tape?”

“Plenty.” She heads to the cabinet. “Take a seat.”

Christina Hawthorne feels very fortunate to even be back in this training room. After a co-op with the Hurricanes last season with their athletic training team, she graduated from UNC Chapel Hill in the spring. They liked her enough to offer her a position on the team for this season while she prepares for her certification test in January. They’re putting an immense amount of trust in her, and she couldn’t be more grateful. 

She loves the guys, so it’s nice to see that they seem to like her enough to keep her around. 

When she has a few free minutes with no players trailing into the training room, she wanders over to the gym. She may have had dreams to be a professional ballerina when she was very young, but actually working with professional athletes everyday is definitely a humbling experience. 

She’s sure to stay out of the way as the players are getting tested, leaning against the wall and sorta zoning out. She takes note of Andrei’s visible frustration at himself for not getting some of the results he wants. She knows that he won’t be ready for the first few games, and he knows too. But she’s sure he’s not happy about it. 

As promised, Andrei does come back to the training room after his fitness tests. She wrinkles her nose as Sebastian ruffles her dyed blonde hair in thanks for helping him stretch out before he leaves. She brushes her fingers through her hair to try and tame it. “Oh good, you’re back.”

“I promised, no?” He takes a seat on the table and puts his leg up. 

“How did today go?”

He huffs. “Fine.”

She presses her thumb against a particular part of his knee and he hisses. She immediately stops and does the same to the other side. No reaction there. She quickly turns to scribble something down in her notes. “I know this is annoying. But you’ll be back on the ice soon.”

“Not frustrated at you,” Andrei says, running a hand through his sweaty hair. “Just myself.”

“Don’t be,” Christina says, gesturing for him to lie down. “Have you been doing the stretches you’re supposed to be doing?”

“How do you know what I’m supposed to be doing?”

“Because I look over your notes and your trainers and the medical staff are in constant contact.”

He chuckles. “Right. Yes, I have been.”

“You lying to me?”

“Never.”

She bends his knee against his chest. “Then believe me. You’ll be back on the ice soon.”

“Okay,” he replies simply. “I believe you.” 

She twists slightly. “Any pain?”

“No.” 

Christina grins, then twists it the other way. “How about now?”

“No.”

“Music to my ears,” she gestures for him to sit up. “You’re good to go.”

“You sure?”

“Unless there’s something else you want me to look at.”

He shakes his head. “No. I think I’m good.”

“Then I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He gets up and flashes her a smile. “See you, Chrissy. Thanks. As always.”

She waves him off. “Just doing my job. Have a good night.”

…..

College was hard, but having a full-time job while trying to study for a certification is a whole new game. Trying to fit in study time while doing a job that already has weird hours is also another thing. Christina’s lucky that the athletic training and medical team understands and lets her study when the players are on the ice or she’s not needed. She even has her own little table in the trainers’ office this year, where she’s often found pooling over textbooks and scribbling notes. 

Training camp and pre-season is a chaotic time for a lot of reasons. There’s more players to keep track of and people are dusting off their rust. No one ever wants to get hurt of course, but especially not during pre-season. Which means everyone is also taking extra precautions. With new faces comes new routines and an adjustment period. 

Christina has a few moments of quiet, the last pre-season game occurring later that evening against Nashville. Players aren’t coming into the arena for at least another hour, and she pours over a chapter in her textbook. She has a pink highlighter in her mouth and a blue one in her hand when someone knocks on the wall. 

She looks up to see Andrei, who looks amused. “Sorry. Are you busy?”

She spits out the highlighter gracefully and caps them both. “Not at all. What’s up?”

“Are you sure?” He nods over to her books. “You look busy.”

“What’s up, Svech?” She repeats. 

He takes the hint. “Can you stretch out my hamstring?”

“Is it-”

“No. It’s not bad enough to need Doug. Just a little tight. And you said I should go to you whenever I need something.”

She stands up as they both head into the training room. “I did say that, yes. Which one?” He points at his right hamstring and she starts. 

“What were you doing earlier? With the books?”

“I’m taking a certification exam in January.”

“For what?”

“To become an official athletic trainer.”

“You’re not one already?”

“I am not,” she says. “Don’t worry. That’s why Doug and the rest of the team do all the nitty-gritty stuff.”

“I’m surprised,” Andrei says. “I thought you were, like, official. You seem to know everything.”

She chuckles, feeling a knot and focusing on that area. “That’s kind of you. I definitely don’t though.” She sees his breath hitch and grimaces. “Sorry. Just a few more seconds.”

“It’s your job,” he says in a strained voice. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“Well, I still feel bad when my job elicits pain in others,” she says. After two minutes, she nods. “Need more?”

He moves his leg around and shakes his head. “I think I’m good. Thanks.”

“Of course.” She looks at the clock hanging up on the wall and furrows her eyebrows. “You’re in early.”

Andrei shrugs. “I like to come in early.”

“I know,” the right side of her lip quirks up as tilts her head to the side. “This is really early though, even for you.”

“Well, you’re in too,” he says. “So why can’t I be?”

She chuckles. “I’m not saying you can’t, Svech. I’m just saying I didn’t expect to be seeing any hockey player for at least another hour.”

“Was feeling too restless at home,” Andrei says. 

She suddenly gets an idea. “Are you busy right now? Am I keeping you from anything?”

Ha shakes his head, “Not at all.”

“Wanna help me study?”

“I don’t know if I can be much help.” Nonetheless, he follows her back into the offices. 

She pulls out a chair for him to sit in and opens her textbook back up. “I study best when I can talk to someone and describe a concept or topic and they tell me it makes sense. I would be a shitty athletic trainer if I can’t tell the athlete what I’m doing.”

“So all I have to do is sit here and listen?”

“And ask questions if I’m not making any sense,” she bites her lip. “Again, if you have other places to be, I get it. This isn’t the most interesting stuff but-”

“No, no.” He assures before smiling widely. She has an urge to poke her finger in his dimple. “I’d love to help.”

Christina smiles in satisfaction as she flips through her pages. Andrei sits back and makes himself comfortable. 

Yeah, she’s glad to be back. 

…..

Every year, the players, coaches and staff head out to a bar in downtown Raleigh before the start of the first regular season game. It’s to stir up excitement and camaraderie before the season starts. Christina couldn’t make it last year because she had class, but as she’s looking at herself in the mirror —a fitted white t-shirt under a green leather jacket she rarely gets to wear that her sister bought her for Christmas and light washed flare jeans — she tells herself to call the damn Uber before she backs out. 

It’s not that she doesn’t like her coworkers. She really likes them, actually. But seeing them outside of work in a social situation where she could make a fool of herself is a bit anxiety-inducing. 

Once she thanks her Uber driver, she steps out into the swanky rooftop bar that has her tapping her foot as she waits for the elevator. Once she steps up, it’s easy to find the Canes crew, various familiar faces crowded around a specific area of the spacious rooftop. Taylor, the head of social content, who Christina’s become good friends with, sees her first and waves her over, and soon Christina is enveloped in exciting chatter. Taylor, the saint they are, pushes a White Russian, Christina’s favorite drink, in her hands. 

Christina can’t feel too bad. The organization is heading the bill tonight and she’s gonna milk that for all it’s worth. 

A bit later, when she’s on her third drink of the night and feeling comfortably tipsy observing the people around her, she feels a tap on her shoulder. She turns around in her stool and immediately beams. 

“Andrei!”

Andrei laughs and returns Christina’s enthusiastic hug before he leans his hip against the bar counter. “Hey Chrissy. You having fun?”

“Plenty.” She giggles. “Especially now that you’re here.”

Maybe it’s her tipsy self or the bar lighting, but she swears his cheeks become redder. Pair that with his button up shirt that has the top buttons undone and a pair of dark jeans and Christina needs to chill. “I’ve been trying to get to you all night,” he says. “You’re a popular woman. I saw Coach laughing at your jokes.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, leaning her chin on her palm. “I’m a funny gal, what can I say?”

“A confident one too,” he says, nodding to her empty glass. “What are you drinking?”

“You do know that the tab is on the Canes tonight, right? You don’t need to butter me up with drinks.”

Andrei rolls his eyes playfully and Christina bursts out into giggles. “I’m not trying to..butter you up? What does that even mean?”

“Like, uh, flatter me or whatever to get something. Like you’re doing something only hoping that you’ll get something out of it.”

“I’m definitely not trying to do that. I’m just trying to be nice. So what are you drinking?”

She offers a toothy grin. “A White Russian, please.” She pokes his shoulder. “Kinda like you, I guess.” Andrei snorts before waving down the bartender to order her drink. She squints at the drink in his hand. “Just a beer?”

“Don’t feel like getting too drunk tonight.”

“How responsible of you.”

He smiles, and Christina is suddenly overcome by the urge to kiss him. But she shakes her head and refocuses back on whatever he’s saying. He leans in closer to hear her response and she has to swallow roughly so her voice doesn’t crack. 

Talking with Andrei is always so seamless. The conversation may shift between three different topics in two minutes but it feels natural. Christina never has an urge to overthink when she’s talking with Andrei. He’s funny and sweet and makes her feel like she’s actually being listened to. 

In a world where she’s surrounded by men on a daily basis, it’s stupidly rare to feel as heard as she does whenever she speaks to the star winger of the Carolina Hurricanes. 

After she finishes her drink, she realizes she should probably start thinking about going home. They all technically have work tomorrow, even if it’s a later start, and people are starting to filter out, having come by to say goodbye to the both of them in the last 10 minutes. 

She starts to stand up and immediately sways on her feet. “Woah,” Andrei says, immediately putting a hand on her waist to steady her. “Slowly.”

“I’m fine,” Christina says, slapping his hand but ultimately grabbing onto his wrist as she steadies herself. “I should probably get going.”

Andrei’s eyebrows furrow. “You didn’t drive here, right?”

Christina snorts, “Of course not. I took an Uber.”

“Where do you live?”

“The Six Forks area.”

He pinches their empty glasses and puts them on the bar counter, nodding in thanks to the bartender. “You’re on my way home. I drive you.”

“Where do you live?”

“North Hills.”

She narrows her eyes. “I’m not that drunk to know that that’s definitely not on your way. You’d be overshooting.”

“I don’t care. It’s late, and I’d feel more comfortable if I just drove you home rather than you taking an Uber.”

“Andrei.” She deadpans. “I’m a grown woman. I can get home myself.”

“I know. But just let me drive you. Please.”

She huffs. “Fine. Thank you.”

He grins, “Anytime. Let’s say goodbye to everyone and then we head out.” Christina stumbles again and his hand is immediately back on her waist. “Slowly,” he repeats. 

“I’m fine,” she repeats. 

After they both say goodbye to everyone who’s still at the bar (Taylor eyes her with a smirk, gaze shifting between Christina’s eyes and Andrei’s hand that’s hovering over her back. Christina just rolls her eyes and discreetly flips them off), Andrei leads her to the parking lot. 

Christina’s nose crinkles at the sight of the lamborghini as Andrei unlocks it. “I forgot you drive this.”

Andrei lets out a loud laugh before opening the passenger door. “Don’t worry. I drive extra safe with you in the car.”

“Thanks,” she mutters, climbing in. She’s heard about his questionable driving. She hopes she doesn’t regret this. 

The engine roars to life and Christina rolls her eyes at the sound. Andrei just shoots her a smile before backing out of the spot. He unlocks his phone and hands it to her. “Put in your address.”

She hums, typing it in before putting his phone in the center console. She closes her eyes for a few seconds, before turning her head so that she’s facing him, leaning on the headrest. “You really didn’t have to do this.”

“You’re telling me you don’t like me as your personal Uber?” Andrei asks. She watches as he turns the wheel with one hand and rests his other hand on the center console shift. “You feel okay? I can open a window if you need.”

“I’m okay, Svech. Just don’t accelerate like a mad man.”

He laughs and she can’t help but giggle along. “I won’t. Promise,” he says. “You like to talk when you’re drunk.”

“Not drunk,” she mutters. 

Andrei’s hum blends in with the engine. “Sure.”

“Not drunk,” she repeats. “Especially not in front of you all. That would be unprofessional.”

“Why you afraid of being unprofessional? The staff loves you. The team loves you.”

“I’ve worked hard to get here,” she says, forcing her eyes back open so she doesn’t fall asleep. “But the fact that I got this job in the first place is a blessing. I’m not gonna do anything to fuck it up.”

He nods. She closes her eyes. He gently jostles her awake when they’re parked in front of her apartment. He insists on walking her up to the door, and she leaves him with another ‘thank you,’ a tight hug and a sleepy smile. 

He doesn’t move his feet until after a minute of staring at her front door.

…..

Opening night is always so thrilling. Of any sport. Christina has to tell herself to stop grinning so widely when the team is getting announced, making sweater paws with a Hurricanes crewneck she found on Etsy. She rocks back and forth in the tunnel, trying to stay out of everyone’s way on the side while simultaneously trying to see the ice and crowd. 

Once the game is about to begin and the arena lights come back on, Christina shakes her head at herself to focus. It’s go-time. Like last year, she’s not with Doug on the bench — the day she gets on the bench will be the day her heart rate explodes — but she’s closeby in the tunnel or in the training room, making sure everything’s all good and she’s not needed. 

“Hey.”

She turns to see Andrei, in his gray plaid game day suit coming from the bench where he was during player introductions. She smiles, “Hi. Happy season opener.”

“Happy season opener.” He grins. “The red earrings are back.”

Christina automatically reaches to touch the red rose earrings she has on tonight. She puts on a red pair of earrings every game day, whether its a flower, a cool design or ruby studs.

It’s something she just does for fun. For herself. She’s surprised that Andrei has noticed. 

“You heading up to the press box?”

“Yeah.”

They’re interrupted by Bob, the head equipment manager, greeting them with a grin “Miss you out there, Svech.”

“Soon,” Andrei promises. 

Bob turns to her with a playful raise of his eyebrow. “That true, Chrissy?”

Christina grins. “That depends on him,” she jokes. “No, he should be good to go soon. Let me know if you need any help tonight..”

Bob waves her away. “Of course. Can always count on you. See you both later,” He then heads back to the bench. 

She takes one last look at the bench to see if anyone needs anything. No one does. She turns back to Andrei. “Thanks again for driving me home last week.”

“Of course. Did you wake up okay?”

“I don’t get hungover.”

“Lucky you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets. “Are you heading on the road trip after this?”

“I’m not, actually. I should be on all the other ones though.”

“Why not this one?”

She chuckles. “Funnily enough, because of you.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s my job. I also think it’s because it’s early in the season so I’m not really needed yet. Hopefully.” She grimaces, “I just jinxed it, didn’t I?”

Andrei laughs, while nodding a greeting at one of the assistant coaches passing by. “Maybe. I feel bad you can’t go on the road, though.”

“There'll be plenty of other chances. You can make it up to me by helping me study again,” she jokes. 

“I will do it,” he says seriously. 

“I was kidding.”

“I will do it,” he repeats and clears his throat. “I should head up.”

She nods. “Enjoy watching from above.”

“Thanks. I mean it. I will help you study while you put me through painful stretches.”

“The stretches shouldn’t be that painful otherwise you’re not ready to go,” she admonishes. She internally wants to cringe at her tone switch, but she can’t help it. 

Luckily, he just grins, a twinkle in his eye. “I know, I know. I’m teasing.”

She rolls her eyes. “Leave. I have work to do.”

He laughs, “See you later, Chrissy.”

…..

Last year, when she still had school, she couldn’t go on road trips either — until it came to the playoffs. So she knows what it’s like to come to the rink when no one’s really around. 

Christina’s planning just to come in for a few hours in the morning to gather her own notes and to organize a few things. Also, she might study for a bit, wanting a different environment than her apartment. Andrei also texted her — she got the number of every single player at the start of the season — saying that he’s planning to come in to work on some things with Steven, one of the other assistant athletic trainers who’s also staying behind this road trip. 

She taps her ID to get in, sipping her iced latte as she strolls down the hallway. She smiles and nods in greeting to a few staff members who she passes. Heading into the office, she sets her stuff down and immediately pulls out some of her notes, along with going through notes that the team has been sending on their road trip. 

She hears Andrei before she sees him, the sound of him and Steven talking echoing through the hallway. They come to the office and she gives them both a wave. 

“Good morning.”

Andrei and Steven both grin. “Morning,” they respond in unison. 

“Did you get Doug’s notes last night?” Steven asks. 

“Yeah. I’m in the middle of putting them in.”

“Amazing. Thank you.” Steven pats Andrei on the shoulder. “You’re all set this morning, Svech. Just remember what I said.”

Andrei nods as Steven leaves the room. “Thanks, Steve.” Steve puts his hand up in acknowledgement. Andrei pulls over a chair and sits down. She saves her work. He looks at the pair of old pointe shoes on her desk that she had just remembered to bring in. “What are those?”

“Old pointe shoes.”

“Well, yeah. I know what they are. Are they yours?”

She goes to play with one of the fraying ribbons. “They are. These are the last pair I wore before I left for college. I brought them in as something to put on my desk.”

“I didn’t know you danced.”

“Well, you don’t know that much about me.”

A pause, before the most beautiful smile spreads across Andrei’s face. “What makes this pair so special?”

Christina smiles bittersweetly. “I was pretty good. Like, went to international competitions good. Could’ve maybe done it for a living good. And I loved it so much. But I fucked up my ankle pretty badly when I was 15 and was never the same after that. I still danced and I made a full recovery, but, you know. At my dance studio, every graduating senior got to perform a solo at the yearly showcase and I did mine on pointe. It was a big moment for me.”

“And you did it in those shoes.”

She nods. “Yup.”

“Was professional dancer the first dream?”

“Yes and no. I think as I got older I realized I had other dreams and wanted to do other things. That didn’t fully sink into me until the injury. But it would’ve been cool, you know, be on a stage for a living.”

“Do you still dance?”

“When I can. UNC didn’t have a ballet company, so I tried to take classes out here in Raleigh. I’m a bit too busy these days, but I’d like to get back in a class at some point.”

Andrei hums, reaching to pick up a shoe. He hesitates, looking at her for permission and she nods at him to go ahead. “I just know you’re a beautiful dancer.”

She tries not to blush. But from the knowing glint in his eye, she knows she fails. He places the pointe shoe carefully back on her desk and she looks at the well-worn satin briefly, wondering what that life could’ve been like for her. 

But then her attention is brought back to Andrei as he asks a question relating to his recovery, and Christina knows she’s right where she wants to be. 

…..

The next day, when she’s not scheduled to go into work, she still somehow sees Andrei. 

Christina has just finished grabbing lunch with a college friend and decides to wander into a nearby cafe, its flowery and vine covered entrance enticing her. With a book in her tote bag and taste buds that always welcome coffee, she orders a latte and perches herself at a table by the window. 

She’s staring out the window lost in her own world when she hears his name being called out by the barista. She whips her head towards the counter. There’s not a lot of people you run into in Raleigh named Andrei. Before she knows it, she makes eye contact with him. She hates that he literally lights up before briskly walking over to her. 

A backwards cap and a gray henley has never looked so good before. It’s almost infuriating. 

He stops abruptly in front of her table, right hand bracing the chair across from her and left hand holding his coffee. “Are you waiting for someone?”

“Not at all.” She grins as he sits down. “Even on my off days, I can’t escape.”

Andre laughs, putting his coffee down on the table. “I come here all the time but I never see you here before.”

“I was in the area meeting up for lunch with a friend and the flowers outside convinced me,” she says. “Now that I know this is your spot, I’ll avoid it.”

He rolls his eyes. “Don’t do that.” He nods to her open book. “Reading?”

“Trying. Been trying to read a bit more because I never had time in college.”

“Did you like college?”

Christina smiles. “I did. Part of it was interrupted by the pandemic, but even then, I had a great time.”

“Are you from Raleigh?”

“No, I’m not. I grew up in Delaware, and my family’s all still there.” 

“Where’s that?”

She chuckles. “A small state around Maryland, Pennsylvania and New Jersey. The closest NHL teams would be the Caps and Flyers, probably. But my family are more football fans. Dad loves the Eagles.”

“So no hockey?”

“Not really. I honestly didn’t really get into hockey until working with the Canes.”

“So now what? You’re a Canes fan?”

“Because I work for them, sure. And you guys aren’t so bad off the ice either.”

Andrei laughs and it’s such a delightful sound. She puts her chin on her palm and listens as he continues talking.

She was hoping not to have to talk to a single person for the rest of the day. She ends up at that cafe with Andrei for over an hour.

…..

Christina grimaces at her TV as she watches the game end, the Hurricanes now on a three game losing streak. It’s still early in the season, but no one likes losing. She glances at her phone as it buzzes, knowing it’s a text from Andrei. They’ve been texting sporadically all night about the game that he’s also watching in his own home. He hasn’t outright said it to her, but she imagines it’s frustrating for him because he can’t be out on the ice with his teammates. 

Christina looks at his response with a quiet laugh, shoots back a text and tosses her phone a few feet away from her with a deep breath. 

The thing is, when she lets herself really think about it, her and Andrei’s professional relationship from the start has always been different compared to her relationship with the other players. From the first time she introduced herself and saw his smile, she knew this was gonna be tough. 

The athlete part of him doesn’t faze her — she’s danced with and been taught by world renowned ballerinas and she worked in the training room of various teams at UNC. It was his ingenuity and kindness that reeled her in. The accented voice paired with his ability to make things look so easy when she knows it’s anything but, always with a smile on his face. 

Christina would be lying to herself if she says she hasn’t ever considered her and Andrei as…more. She’d be an idiot not to. Obviously, she knows Andrei is incredibly handsome. She’s known that from the very first time she saw him in the training room last season. And it doesn’t help that he’s also so nice with no pretense. Nice just to be nice. 

But it would never happen. Could never happen. He has the entire city of Raleigh falling at his feet and she works with him. 

One night when she was a bit too wine tipsy in her dorm last year, she pulled out the contract she had signed and found the tiny section that addressed romantic relationships among “any members of the Carolina Hurricanes organization” and found some super vague shit basically saying that it was okay in most instances. Which it is. One of their assistant coaches is married to the head of the PR department. 

But she has an inkling that players are a whole different subclause. 

So while they developed a good rapport last season, Christina purposefully kept her distance a bit, sparing little details about her own life and always turning it back to him. To be fair, she was careful around everyone last season, not wanting to get in the way and just wide-eyed overall. But now she’s (hopefully) gonna be around for a bit and will try to let her personality shine a bit more. Push herself to be more casual and comfortable with the staff and team. 

Like texting Andrei about things that aren’t related to his recovery. 

It started with Andrei texting something funny about one of the pregame photos of Brady that had been tweeted. His comment made Christina snort out her tea as she quickly replied back. It’s not like they’re texting often, but it always puts a smile on her face whenever his name pops up on her phone. 

She knows she needs to be careful. But before anything else, she’s just glad to have another new friend. Someone at work she’s comfortable enough to joke around with. 

That’s enough for her. 

…..

Andrei’s long-waited season debut has the fans, his teammates and the whole staff excited. But no one’s more excited than Andrei himself, who’s bouncing around all day from the moment he walks in for his daily check-in.

As she watches him skate around for warmups, she grins at his infectious happiness. He picks up a water bottle and squirts water on her when he comes back to the bench for a moment and she wants to flip him off so badly. She totally would if there weren’t cameras around and if also wasn’t, you know, unprofessional. He’s lucky she’s wearing a black sweater today. Jordan reaches to pull on the ribbon in her hair and that’s when she makes her way off the bench, causing Doug and the other staff to laugh. 

Once the game starts, she does grimace a bit as she’s watching footage of the game from the training room when she sees Andrei go in for a heavy hit. She hears the cheers from the fans and she gets it, but he’s literally just coming off a season ending injury. Yes, he’s a professional athlete, but she’s (almost) a certified athletic trainer. 

They win 3-0 and everyone’s pumped. She’s busy documenting notes as the athletes start leaving the arena. Andrei, as instructed, comes in and she makes sure everything’s okay with his knee. 

“Hey,” she calls out before he leaves. He turns back around with an expectant smile. She beams. “Good game. Glad to have you back.”

“Thank you,” he says with a grin. “Good to be back.”

…..

When you work in such a team centered environment, there’s always someone around. Always someone to talk to and joke around with. She loves it. The collaboration of the work she does is probably her favorite part. 

But she also loves time by herself. So she vows to herself that on every road trip, after some studying, she’ll take the time to explore wherever she is by herself. Whether it’s simply grabbing a coffee or walking around whatever city they’re in or just sitting outside, she’ll carve out some time for herself, while exploring cities that she’s never been to.

The first mini road trip she goes on is to Philadelphia and New York. In Philadelphia, she heads to the Philadelphia Museum of Art. Her younger sister Layla is a graphic design major at Carnegie Mellon so she’s filtered some of her love and knowledge to Christina. With her airpods in, she wanders through the exhibits on her own. 

That’s another thing about post-grad. Learning how to do things alone. 

New York has a lot more options. She only has one full day she isn’t working and another half day. During the full day when she’s actually in the city, she meets up with a friend from high school for a nice walk around Brooklyn before dinner. On the half day, after morning skate in Long Island, she wants to just people watch outside for a few hours on a weirdly warm day for November. 

The elevator doors open and Andrei comes walking out, looking down at his phone. When he looks up, a grin spreads across his face and he locks his phone. “Hi Chrissy.”

She nods. “Svech.” The elevator doors close. That’s fine. She’ll catch the next one. “Where’d you just come back from?”

“Just grabbed some lunch with the guys after practice. Where you off to?”

“Honestly, probably also gonna grab a coffee and then sit outside by the water and just daydream. I brought a book, but we’ll see if I’m in the mood.”

Andrei laughs. “Sounds like a great day.”

It is her alone time, but she asks anyways. “Would you like to join?”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “Oh. I don’t want to intrude or-”

“You wouldn’t be. I’m asking you.”

“Oh. Well, um, yeah, then. Sure. Give me a minute to use the bathroom?”

“Take your time.” He shoots her a thankful smile as he briskly walks to his room while she waits by the elevators, shifting on her feet. A few minutes later, he comes back out, this time with a backwards hat on. He shoves his hands in his off-white sweatshirt and she presses the elevator button, purposefully not looking at him.

There’s something about a backwards hat. It’s actually really annoying how attractive it is.

“How’s your first road trip been?”

Christina smiles as they step into the elevator. “Good. Went to an art museum in Philly. Saw a college friend in Brooklyn and just walked around the city. The rest of the time I’ve been with you guys.”

“You like art?”

“A bit. My sister’s studying graphic design, so her love for it has bleeded into my life.”

“That’s sweet. Are you two close?”

“Yeah. I don’t know if we’re as close as you and your brother though.” She teases, and she swears she sees his cheeks tinge pink as they walk out of the elevator and out of the hotel. “She’s much cooler than I am, just started her second year at Carnegie Mellon. I was actually just texting her because she’s trying to figure out flights to Raleigh for Thanksgiving.”

“She’s coming down?”

“Yup,” they start wandering to the nearby park. “Usually, we’d go back home to Delaware. But since we have games the day before and after and they’re at home, they’re all coming down to me. First Thanksgiving in Raleigh. They’ll probably come to a game or two.”

“That’s really nice.”

“How about you? Is your mom or dad coming to visit anytime soon?”

“Not sure yet, with Geno now back in Russia. My mom was mainly here to keep me company when I was injured. I’m sure you’ll get to meet her soon though.”

They see a cafe ahead of them and she suggests they pop in to grab something. He opens the door for her and also pays for her, which is really annoying and she takes note of his coffee order so that she can get him back once they’re home. Once they receive their coffees, they’re back outside and in the park, sitting and people watching while petting the dogs that occasionally come up to them.

“Do you miss dancing? Like, at the level you were before getting injured?”

A sad smile automatically appears on her face. “All the time. But it’s changed. It used to be more painful and frustrating to think about. Now it’s more of looking back at the good memories.”

“My grandma used to dance as well. She took my brother and I to a ballet in Moscow once. I honestly don’t remember much of it. I was too young.”

Christina chuckles. “Yeah, it’s not for everyone.” She lets out a deep breath. “God, I haven’t seen a ballet in ages.”

“Can I ask how bad your injury was?”

“A recurring stress fracture that required surgery,” she says. “I don’t know if they could ever actually diagnose it officially because it was so fucked up. Or maybe I just block it out of my brain because it was such a painful time.”

“Even after a full recovery, there was no chance to go on as intensely as before?”

“There might’ve been. But I made the choice that I didn’t want my ankles wearing down on me by 25 and like I said, I had other dreams.”

“That must’ve been a hard decision to make.”

Christina swallows. It’s been awhile since she’s talked about this with anyone. “It was. I was heartbroken, honestly. It just felt like my life was over, you know? Obviously, it wasn’t. But I didn’t know that at 15. But if that hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t have thought about going the athletic training route, and in a way, what I’m doing now connects to my dance background, so I’m happy where I am now.”

His eyes light up with hope. “Do you have a video of you dancing?”

She laughs. “I actually do.” She gets her phone out and searches for a particular video. “This was around a year ago. A little across the floor combo we were doing in a class.” She hands him her phone and looks over his shoulder to watch with him. It’s a short video, only about 20 seconds long, but it combines a bit of everything — waltz, pirouettes, leaps and footwork. 

He replays it again. She has no idea what to make of that. “I was right.”

“Hm?”

“You’re a beautiful dancer.”

“Oh. That’s kind of you. Thank you.”

“I mean it,” he says. “You have beautiful…lines? Is that the right word?”

“Yeah, actually.” He gives her a triumphant smile and she can’t help but laugh. “Thank you. That's really sweet. I appreciate it.”

He watches the video again. She stares at the side of his face, trying to see what he’s seeing. She can’t quite place it. The only thing she can place is her faster than normal heart rate.

…..

A loss against the Panthers at their barn, a win against Tampa on their ice the next day and then a loss against Philly at home. Andrei still hasn’t recorded his own goal, and Christina knows it’s eating him alive. 

It’s funny, because he’s trying not to let it show, especially in front of media. But Christina knows better, especially when he starts pushing himself on the ice even more. 

She’s not usually on the bench during morning skates. More often than not, she’s in the training room or her office, studying or doing miscellaneous tasks until players file in during or after practice for various needs. But once in awhile, she likes to walk out to the ice. Today, she’s taking her studying out there to see if the crispness of the air and the sounds of hockey keep her focused. 

She’s reading over a passage in her textbook when she sees a shadow fall over the page. She looks up to see Andrei drinking some water. 

“If you spray water on this book, you’re paying for another one,” she warns. 

“Of course,” he says with an easy smile. 

“I hope you’ve been stretching out your knee,” she says. “With how hard you’re going at during practice.”

“How do you know how hard I’m going in practice?”

“It’s part of my job,” she responds dryly, backing away and glaring at Seth as he reaches out to mess up her hair. 

“Coming out here to study now?” Andrei asks.

She shrugs. “Trying something new.”

“Is it working?”

“It was,” she says pointedly. 

Brady skates to a stop in front of them and laughs. “That’s her telling us to stop annoying her.”

“You could never annoy me, Skjeisy.” Christina grins. 

Andrei pouts. “What does Skjeisy have that I don’t?”

“The most beautiful smile,” she grins charmingly. Andrei playfully narrows his eyes and Brady shoots her a wink. No one’s flirting. Christina’s met Gracia a few times and those two childhood friends are very in love with each other. But it’s worth it to see Andrei squeeze water out of his water bottle in Brady’s face. 

“When’s your exam again?” Brady asks.

“January 7.”

“That’s soon.”

She sighs, staring down at her book. “Don’t remind me.”

“You’re gonna be great,” Andrei assures her. 

“Sure, if you all actually practice and leave me to study.” As if on cue, a whistle is blown and Christina waves her hand at them. “Shoo. If Rod blames me for distracting you, I’ll be out of a job.”

She takes some notes for a few more minutes before giving up and closing her books. She puts her elbows on her knees, resting her chin on the palms of her hands as she watches them focus on winning board battles and protecting the puck. Practice is more intense than usual today as Christina loses herself in the focused energy in the air, eyes tracking the puck and the players and how they’re positioning themselves around the puck. She almost laughs at herself at how hockey she sounds. Her football loving uncle would be proud and a bit confused. 

Practice is over, and Christina decides to stay on the bench until everyone clears the tunnel, knowing that if any players need treatment, Doug has it. He would text her a random emoji if he needed her anyways. Last game, he took a liking to the red-headed fairy. 

She squints at Andrei, who’s the only player on the ice now, as he takes shot after shot from the blue line. She just observes him and the determined look on his face, the smoothness in his shot. 

As if he can feel eyes on him, he turns around and laughs, before gathering the pucks and skating over to her. “Stalking me?”

“Observing,” she corrects. “How do you feel? Physically?”

“Good.”

“Good,” she says. “You look good.”

“Oh?”

She rolls her eyes. “You know what I mean.” She trails behind him as they head to the trainers room. “Don’t forget. Doctor’s appointment tomorrow.”

“I swear you’re my personal calendar.”

“That’s actually my second job” she says flatly, a smile peeking out after he grins at her. “Go get your protein shake or whatever disgusting thing you like to drink.”

“Sassy today.”

“I want to go home,” she deadpans. “I’ve been up since 5 a.m.”

To his credit, he looks concerned. “Why so early?”

“Studying.”

“Oh,” he says softly. “Well, make sure you sleep. Sleep is important.”

She has to chuckle. “Thanks Svechy. I’ll keep that in mind.”

He flicks his hand. “Go home.”

“I don’t think you have the authority to tell me that. You’re not my boss.”

“But I am,” they both turn to see Doug peeking out of a doorway. “Get out of here, Chris.”

She narrows her eyes playfully. “You schemers.” 

“Go sleep,” Andrei says, pulling at her ponytail lightly. She whacks his hand away. 

The last thing she sees as she walks into her office is his smirk. 

….

The day before Thanksgiving, she’s preoccupied with her parents and sister flying in for the first half of the day. She picks them up from the airport and takes them all to one of her favorite lunch spots before she has to head to work and they go sightseeing on their own. She offered to get them tickets for the game against Edmonton, but they waved her off. They’ll enjoy their time at a game on Sunday. 

Thanksgiving morning is peaceful, with the Macy’s Parade on the TV as everyone is just relaxing. In the afternoon, as Christina and her mom are taking charge of dinner, someone’s knocking on her apartment door. Immediately, Christina is confused. She’s almost positive her dad and Aimee grabbed her keys before heading out for a quick walk. She calls out a “coming” as the person knocks again. 

“Andrei?” 

He shifts from side to side, flashing a quick but genuine smile. He looks extra cozy in a brown sweatshirt and a backwards hat. “Hi Chrissy. Happy Thanksgiving. I’m sorry for interrupting.”

“Not at all. Happy Thanksgiving. What are you-what’s up?” 

He holds out a cake container. “Uh, I’m heading to Staalsy’s for Thanksgiving at their place, and I made ptichye moloko, which is a cake my mom makes for me back home in Russia. I made two. I was wondering if you wanted the other?” 

Her mouth drops open. “Oh, Andrei. That’s…you didn’t need to do that.” 

“I wanted to,” he replies. “And honestly, I hope it’s good. It’s my first time making it and I had to call my mom for help. I made too much batter so, two cakes.” 

She laughs, propping her hip against the doorframe, easy smile on her face. “I bet it’s delicious. Thank you. You’re so-you really didn’t have to do this.” 

Andrei shakes his head. “I wanted to-“

“Honey?” Marianne’s voice calls out from the kitchen. “Who’s at the door?” She doesn’t bother waiting for an answer before appearing. 

Christina internally sighs. “Andrei, this is my mom Marianne. Mom, this is Andrei. He’s one of the guys on the team.” 

Andrei balances the cake on one hand while reaching out to shake Marianne’s hand with the other, easygoing smile on his face. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Hawthorne. I apologize for showing up without warning.” 

“Oh, no apology necessary!” Marianne smiles, and Christina can tell immediately that her mother is charmed. She wants to roll her eyes. “Are you staying for dinner? You’re more than welcome.” 

Andrei shakes his head. “No, though thank you for the offer. I’m on the way to our captain’s house. I just wanted to stop by and drop this off.” 

Marianne takes the cake from his hands with a delighted smile. “That’s so sweet of you.” 

“He made it himself,” Christina chimes in, smirking in his direction. “Hopefully it doesn’t poison us.” 

Andrei laughs. “Hopefully.” 

The door opens again, and her dad and sister are back from their walk around the block. Christina swallows. Guess he’s meeting the whole family today. 

“Andrei, this is my dad Mark and my sister Aimee. Father and Aimee, this is-“ 

“Andrei Svechnikov,” her dad finishes for her. He and Andrei shake hands and a weird feeling appears in her stomach. “I watch the Canes games from time to time.” 

“It’s nice to meet you, sir.” He then turns to Aimee and shakes her hand with a small smile. “You too, Aimee. Your sister talks about you all the time.” 

Aimee shoots her sister a look. Christina telepathically tells her to shut up. “Does she really?”

“She does. All good things.”

“It’s good to see you back on the ice again,” Mark says. “How’s the knee?” 

“Knee is good,” Andrei says, before casting a smile in her direction. “All thanks to Chrissy here.” 

“He’s lying,” she deadpans. “I just make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” 

“Are you staying for dinner?” Aimee asks with a hopeful look.

Christina shakes her head. “I wouldn’t subject him to that. He’s going to Captain Staalsy’s.” 

“Lame,” Aimee says. Christina elbows her. 

“Chrissy mentioned you all were coming to a game?” Andrei asks. 

“Yup. We’ll be going Sunday.” 

“Have you ever been to a Canes game?” Mark shakes his head. Andrei grins. Christina wants to poke his dimple. “Well, hopefully we put on a good show.” 

She snorts. “Alright, Andrei. Better leave before Dad starts grilling you on the powerplay.” Expectedly, Andrei’s eyes light up. He turns to her as she rolls her eyes.

“Are you sure you don’t wanna stay for dinner?” Marianne asks. 

Andrei grins. “I’m sure. Thank you though.” He looks back at Christina. “See you tomorrow?” 

“Bright and early.”

He turns back to her family with a warm smile. “It was nice to meet you all.” 

Christina nods to the door, “I’ll walk you out.” She catches Aimee’s smirk and rolls her eyes. She puts a shoe in the door so that it won’t shut on her as she faces Andrei. “Thank you for the cake. Seriously.”

“Careful,” he teases, and if butterflies flutter in her stomach from his tone that’s no one else’s business. “It could be awful.”

“It won’t be.” She grins and gives him a quick hug before she can overthink it. She pulls away before she wants to. “Happy Thanksgiving. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thank you again.”

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

She watches him disappear from the hallway before she lets out a deep breath.

…..

The crowd at the PNC arena goes nuts with Andrei scores with less than two minutes left in the third against Columbus. Christina herself bounces around on her toes in excitement, her parents and sister somewhere up in the box seats. What a way to get your first of the season. She feels weirdly proud of him. 

She only catches him as she’s heading out a bit earlier than normal to drive back with her family. And by catch him, she only means by eye contact as Andrei’s swept up in media. She stops for a moment and just leans against the doorway of the locker room, watching him answer questions

Christina’s about to push herself off the doorway when Andrei’s eyes meet hers. He’s still talking, but his smile widens, and she just shoots him a thumbs up and a grin of her own before walking to the parking garage. 

…..

Christina groans as she skims the email from the management of her apartment complex. Fixing the water pipes will shut down water for 24 hours. It’s not the end of the world, but how inconvenient. 

She leans back in her chair, mentally going through her mind to see where she could crash for a whole day last minute. The one friend she would go to immediately is away on vacation right now. 

She’s twiddling her fingers as she walks to the locker room, needing to check in with Andrei. But weirdly, he’s nowhere to be found. She’s about to walk out of the room just as Andrei walks in. 

“Oh, perfect,” Christina says. “I was looking for you.”

“Were you?”

She tries not to roll her eyes as he follows her back to her office. “Get your ass on the table.”

He laughs, following her instructions as she works on his shoulder. She must sigh without realizing because his eyebrows furrow. “Everything okay?”

“Hm?”

“Are you okay?”

“Oh, I’m fine,” she waves him off. “The pipes are getting fixed in my apartment building for a day so I gotta figure out where I’m crashing for the night. That’s all.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “That must be annoying.”

She shrugs. “It is what it is, but the friend I usually would stay with is away right now, so that kinda has me scrambling. I probably will have to get a hotel room for the night or something.”

“How about you stay with me?”

Christina has her back towards him to take some notes, before she spins back around and raises an eyebrow. “Andrei, no. I can’t-”

“I have a guest room. Multiple guest rooms, actually,” he runs a hand through his hair. “It’s no problem. Serious. It would be like I’m not even there.” She opens her mouth to protest but closes it again, weighing her options. Like he senses her hesitation, he barrels on. “You don’t have to drop money on a hotel. And only for a night, right? Just stay with me.”

She bites her lip in thought. It would save her a lot of trouble. And he’s right, it’s just for a night. “Are you sure?” She says. 

“100 percent,” he promises. 

“Okay,” she says gratefully. “Thank you. I owe you big.”

“No worries,” he says. “I text you my address. Come over whenever you’re ready. I text you the garage code too in case I’m not home.”

She’s a bit surprised that he just blindly trusts her so much, but he trusts her to handle his body and recovery, which is arguably the most important thing for a professional athlete, so staying in his home is next to nothing. 

But it’s a big deal to her. She’s reminded of that when she drives home to grab some things. She’s reminded that her phone buzzes with a text from him, the garage code like he promised, along with what her sushi preferences are — anything, it’s her favorite food. She’s reminded of that as she drives over, immediately feeling overwhelmed at how nice this neighborhood is. 

She forgets often that these players are earning more than she ever will. Andrei is a multimillionaire. The cost of his living room alone is probably worth more than a year of Christina’s current monthly rent. 

It doesn’t phase her necessarily. It’s just an observation. 

As she pulls into his driveway, she sees Andrei coming out of his garage. He perks up with a wave, waiting for her to park her car. He approaches her as she comes out of her car with her backpack.

“Just in time. I grabbed dinner.”

She glances at the bag in his hands and she tries not to gulp at the familiar (expensive) restaurant logo “I could’ve grabbed it on the way here.”

He waves her off as they walk through the garage, him swinging her backpack over his shoulder. “You’re a guest in my home. Why would I make you do that?”

Christina’s not used to this. The chivalry. The acts of service. It all feels a bit too much, especially as he gives her a brief house tour and shows her the guest room. It’s all so minimalistic and clean and expensive and she was not prepared to be staying the night in Andrei’s house today. Or ever.

She jumps in the shower really quickly to wash off the day. It takes her a moment to figure out how to control the temperature. She’s afraid to mess anything up. When she walks back out into the main room, Andrei’s just finished setting up the table. When she spots the familiar label of her favorite wine, she blinks. 

He notices her silence and chuckles sheepishly, scratching the back of his neck. “I asked Taylor what your favorite wine is.”

“You could’ve asked me,” she says softly. 

He shrugs. “I wanted to surprise you, I guess.”

She hoists herself up on the stool of the island, trying to control the butterflies in her stomach. “Well, thank you. You didn’t have to do that.”

Being with Andrei in his home is expectedly intimate. She feels very comfortable at work to poke fun at the players and staff. But it’s different sitting for meals in the kitchen at the office compared to sitting across a kitchen island eating sushi that Christina only has when her parents foot the bill. Something as simple as Andrei’s sushi plopping into his soy sauce and her bark of laughter feels almost too much, especially when he chuckles with her at his misery. Because it’s just the two of them in his home and it’s almost too much. 

But even if it’s too much, she doesn’t feel uncomfortable at all. In fact, it’s probably weird how comfortable she does feel, as her and Andrei chat about everything from the team to his brother to her college days. When his dimple pops out and his brown eyes brighten with curiosity, she has to remind herself that she works with him. They’re co-workers at best. Friends possibly. 

She gets up to clear their dishes away, but Andrei’s quicker and pushes her shoulder down so she’s sitting again. She gives him a look. “Andrei. Come on. You bought dinner and you’re letting me stay for the night. I can wash dishes.”

He shakes his head, “You don’t need to do anything but sit there all pretty.”

She just blinks and sips her wine because what the fuck. 

They debate putting on a movie or show, but end up just hanging out on the couch and continuing to talk because he’s just so easy to talk to. Christina stops herself after her third glass of wine when she remembers she has work tomorrow, and she thinks he’s so sweet for grabbing her a glass of cold water without her even asking. 

When they’re winding down for the night, he hovers by the door of the guest room, making sure she doesn’t need anything. When she assures him that she’s all good, he leaves her with a “goodnight” and the cutest smile and Christina knows that she’s fucked. 

The next morning, she wakes up to the smell of coffee. When she walks out, yawning and rubbing her eyes, she sees two plates of waffles. 

“Good morning,” she says with an air of surprise. “This looks great.”

He chuckles. “Eat it first before you say anything.”

She hums, making sweater paws with her UNC sweatshirt and smiling when he slides over a mug of coffee. 

“You sleep well?”

“I did, thank you. You have a very comfy mattress.”

His dimple pops out and Christina can feel herself falling. “You’re welcome anytime.”

That statement doesn’t help either. 

After they finish their breakfasts, she yet again isn’t allowed to help with dishes, so she wraps her hands around her coffee and watches him. “Thank you, though, Andrei. Seriously. For letting me stay over. You saved me a lot of trouble.”

“Of course,” he says over his shoulder, catching sight of her packed backpack in the living room. “Are you heading out so soon?”

“Yeah. I have to get into work earlier than you do, remember?” She teases, as she finishes her coffee, hands him the mug and goes to grab her backpack. “I also wanna stop by my place to drop this stuff off and pick some stuff up before heading to the rink.”

He turns off the faucet, wipes his hands and walks over to her. “I was gonna say I’ll miss you, but I see you in probably an hour.”

She laughs, not quite processing what he just insinuated. “Probably.”

“Can I ask you something before you leave?”

“Yeah. What’s up?”

“Would you want to go on a date with me sometime?”

Her jaw drops open a bit. Oh. “Oh.”

He backtracks. “You can say no. I won’t be hurt. Or, well. I just want to ask to see if you give me that chance. I really like you, Chrissy.”

“No, it’s not that. It’s just…Andrei. We work together.”

“I know, I know.”

She lets out a sigh, tipping her head back and squeezing her eyes shut. “Andrei-”

“One date,” he practically begs. “Let me take you on one date to prove that this is real to me.”

She swallows, her resolve starting to crumble down from his pleading eyes. “I could lose my job.”

“You won’t. And I wouldn’t let that happen.”

She can’t help but snort. “Carolina loves you, but not that much.”

He pouts before taking her hands. “Christina,” he says sincerely. “Just one chance. And then if it doesn’t go well, we stay coworkers and friends and this never happened.”

“And if it does go well?” She bites her lip.

The dimple appears on his cheek again. She wants to kiss it.  “Then we figure out where to go from there.”

“There’s just, it’s not- you’re wonderful and kind and sweet, but I’m putting a lot on the line here.” She feels vulnerable, her voice shaking at the edges. “I’ve worked too hard to have this fall apart on me.”

“I know. I understand.” And huh, Christina thinks. He actually probably does understand more than most, because if Andrei is anything, he's a hard worker. He gently places a hand on her waist and she can’t fucking think. “I wouldn’t ask you just to ask you or risk anything.”

“You like me that much, huh?” Christina jokes weakly.  

Andrei squeezes her waist lightly “I do.”

Oh. Okay. 

A few more seconds pass with Andrei staring at her hopefully and Christina blinking rapidly. He’s so gentle with her it makes her wanna scream into a pillow. 

“One date,” she relents. His eyes sparkle and her smile grows with his. “You have one shot, Svech. Use it wisely.”

“Oh believe me, I will.” He says confidently. “When are you free?” 

“My work schedule is the exact same as yours.” 

He lets go of her hands to dig into his pocket for his phone, checking the Canes schedule that’s synched up to his calendar. “When we’re in New York. Two weeks from now.” 

“New Year’s Eve?”

“Yeah. I know we’re already all going out at night but during the day. Just you and me.”

Immediately, her mind goes into planning mode. “Sure, yeah. That works. I have some friends who live in the city I could ask for recommendations for-”

“No,” she tilts her head in confusion at his firm tone. “You don’t worry about anything. I take care of all of it.”

“Andrei.”

“I take care of it, Chrissy.” he repeats, shoving his phone back in his pocket. “All you need to do is show up.”

She opens her mouth and closes it, before, “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Okay. Will you at least tell me what to wear?”

“Anything. You always look beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes at the fact that he’s already loading on the charm and they’re not even on the date yet. “Nice try. I’m not wearing my work attire to our date.”

“Seems like you already know what you’re wearing, then.”

She huffs before softening. “Thanks for letting me stay the night.”

Andrei clicks his tongue. “Of course. I see you later?”

Christina chuckles. “Yup.” 

They walk to his front door, and he hesitates for a second before leaning down to give her a quick kiss on the cheek. She’s absolutely floored. “Get home safe.”

She gives him one last smile as goodbye. It isn’t until she’s in her car when she leans her forehead on her steering wheel and smiles into it does it fully sink in. 

She has a date in two weeks.

…..

No one likes a loss, and even if Christina is kinda immune to it by now, it’s not fun. But the holidays are near and her heart feels light as she packs up her things. Her flight takes off early in the morning, so she’s hoping to catch a few hours of sleep before then. A knock on the doorframe has her looking up to see Andrei dressed back in his game day suit with a light smile on his face. 

“Hey,” she greets. “Everything alright? You need treatment?”

“Everything’s fine. I’m okay.” He says, shuffling in and looking a bit sheepish.

Christina hesitates. She’s not sure how Andrei is after a loss, if he likes to talk about it or forget about it. “You wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” 

“Okay.” She looks down at his outstretched hand holding a box she didn’t see at first. “What’s that?”

He clears his throat. “It’s, uh, your Christmas present. You fly back home in the morning, yes?”

“Yeah,” she shakes her head. “Andrei, I-I don’t need…I didn’t get you anything.”

“That’s okay.” The annoying thing is that she knows he means that. She tentatively takes the box out of his hand and opens it. Inside is a pair of silver dewdrop earrings. 

“Andrei.”

“Uh, I asked Taylor and they told me you wore silver and gave their approval. But if you don’t like them, I can return them and exchange them for-”

“Andrei,” he halts as she looks at him. “They’re beautiful. Thank you so much.”

“You’re welcome.”

“You really didn’t have to get me anything.”

“I wanted to.”

She chuckles shakily, closing the box. “We haven’t even been on our date yet.”

“So?” he shrugs, like it’s not a big deal. But it is a big deal. “You’re important to me. I get everyone important to me Christmas presents.”

Christina wants to melt at the soft look in Andrei’s eyes. She’s a bit at a loss for words, so she just gives him a tight hug. She lets herself fall into him as his arms wrap around her securely, resting her chin on his shoulder and letting her eyes fall shut at how safe she feels. 

She reluctantly pulls away and puts some space between them. They are still at work after all. “Thank you. Seriously. You’re so sweet.”

“I’m glad you like them,” he says with a light in his eyes. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t get you anything.”

He shakes his head. “No need.” She gives him a look as he chuckles. “I promise. A date with you is enough presents to last me a lifetime.” Jesus Christ. Where does he pull this shit out of? He just grins. “You heading out? I walk you to your car.”

She swallows and nods, packing up the last of her things, carefully placing the box on top. She makes sure she’s not looking at him when she says her next statement. “You’re way too nice to me.” Silence for a bit besides her rustling her things. Once she’s ready to go, she looks back at him, who’s staring at her thoughtfully. It throws her off guard. “What?”

“I’m not too nice to you,” Andrei says, eyebrows furrowed adorably and sincerely. “I’m just..how I am.”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Christina quickly assures him as she flicks off the lights. “I just, uh, am not used to it? None of my exes have ever even treated me this nicely.”

“That’s a shame,” he says. “You deserve someone being kind to you. No such thing as too nice.”

She just swallows as they head down the hallway and to the parking lot. Because what can she say to that? Andrei has always been sweet and polite since the day they met, but she didn’t expect him to be so sincerely earnest. 

She slides into the passenger seat of her car and he leans down, resting his hand against the hood. “You’ll be good to go home?”

“Yeah.”

“Merry Christmas, Christina,” he says with a grin.

“Merry Christmas, Andrei.”

…..

Andrei gets a hat trick against Montreal and looks right at her as his teammates converge upon him. She has no idea how he even finds her so quickly considering she’s not standing where she usually would be, but he finds her anyway. 

She grins at him and he gives an imperceptible nod paired with his signature charming smile.

Three more days.

…..

Half an hour before Andrei’s supposed to be at her hotel room door, Christina is already ready. 

She hadn’t managed to squeeze many details out of him, because he insisted that he would take care of it. It’s not like she doubts him, perse. But she’d at least like to know how to dress so she doesn’t feel out of place. She told him that, and he caved, saying “not a sweatshirt, but a nice sweater or dress will be fine, but not overly fancy,” which, actually, doesn’t say much. But she could work with that. 

And she did. When packing for this mini-road trip, she put thought into what she would wear today. She’s settled for a black-neck long sleeve with her favorite dark green pants, paired with black ankle-high boots and her favorite brown peacoat. 

As she sits on her bed and waits, she starts becoming more fidgety. She’s nervous, yes, but not because she doesn’t know him. She has a feeling that he’s going to be the perfect gentleman and the date will go well. 

She’s nervous that it’ll go too well and she’ll get ahead of herself. 

Before she knows it, she hears a knock on her door. With a deep breath, she grabs her bag and walks over to open the door. 

She swings it open and swallows. “Hi.”

“Hi,” Andrei says softly. She takes a moment to look at his outfit — a navy blue button up with a gray jacket draped over his arm. With black dress pants and sneakers, she’s thankful that it seems like their outfits match on the formal scale. He clears his throat. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you,” she says softly. “You look great too.”

“Shall we?”

Christina reaches into her purse to make sure she has her room key, phone and wallet before nodding. “Where are we headed?” She asks as they walk down the hall. 

“We’ll have to head on the train a few stops to Lincoln Center.” Lincoln Center? She furrows her eyebrows. He clears his throat as they step into the elevator, him leaning against the wall. “Today’s the last day they show The Nutcracker. With your dancing history, I figure, I don’t know, maybe it would be fun?”

Suddenly, a frog appears in her throat. It’s probably the most thoughtful first date she could go on. She looks into his earnest eyes, as if he thinks she’ll hate it or not wanna go. 

“It’s perfect,” she manages to get out. He’s perfect. “I-I haven’t seen a ballet in ages.”

“I know,” he responds. “You told me, remember?”

Oh. She did. And he remembered. She bites her lip to keep herself from blurting out that this might be the best date she’s ever been on and they just stepped out of the elevator. 

She can tell he’s a bit nervous, quieter than usual. They’re not quite holding hands, but their fingers keep brushing and she feels the ghost of his hand on her lower back as they head down to the subway and onto the train. 

“When’s the last time you were in New York City?” He asks. 

The train lurches and Christina takes a second to find her footing. “It’s been at least two years. I used to come up here for, funny enough, dance intensives and camps when I was in middle and high school.”

“Are you planning on getting back to classes now that it’s been a few months?”

Again, she’s impressed with the things Andrei actually remembers. She shrugs. “I definitely think I’m still too busy during the season. But maybe in the off-season.”

More people pile onto the train, causing the two to move closer towards each other. She can smell his cologne. She looks up in shock at the feeling of a feather-like kiss on her forehead. 

“Thank you.”

“For?”

“Saying yes. This will be the best date of your life, I promise.”

She just leans her head onto his elbow as the train runs on its tracks. 

As they walk into Lincoln Center, all Christina can do is gape as they find their seats, Andrei leading the way — in the first row of the second wing. It’s a perfect view of the stage with all the formations, lighting and sound. Andrei plays with her hand the whole time and it feels so good to see a dance performance again. During intermission, she gushes over the choreography and costumes as Andrei just smiles, listening intently to her observations. When she suddenly stops and apologizes for rambling, he tells her to keep going. (“I love how much you love dance.”)

Afterwards, they head to a nearby dessert place and share a bowl of shaved ice and ice cream. She’s having such a good time talking with him that it isn’t until the sky becomes dark does she realize they both have to head back to the hotel before anyone questions them and they can get ready for the team and staff New Year’s Eve party tonight.

She swipes her keycard, closing the door as he steps into her room. “Thank you for this. I had a really good time.”

“Yeah?”

She nods, biting her lip with a small smile. “I did.”

“A good time enough that you want to do it again?”

“I think so.”

“Yeah?” His eyes are practically sparkling and Christina’s elated that it’s because of her. “I didn't blow my shot?”

She chuckles, “You did.” She doesn't want to tell him that if she’s being honest with herself, he had her from the very start. 

“Great,” he grins. “Great. I’m glad you had a really good time. I was really nervous.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Oh,” she says, walking closer to him and instinctively wrapping her hands loosely around his neck. “You didn’t have to be.”

“You-you always make me a bit nervous, even if I don’t show it,” he admits. 

Christina’s stomach tingles. “Can we go on another date when we’re back in Raleigh? Maybe after I take my exam?”

“Yes,” he rushes out. “Of course. Yes.”

She catches his eyes flickering to her lips for a split second and decides to just bite the bullet. She presses a delicate kiss on his lips, and backs away to see a light pink dusting his cheeks. “I’m gonna go get ready for tonight.”

He chases her lips, causing her to giggle. “Bye,” he mumbles against her lips. “I see you in a bit.”

As soon as her door shuts, she lets out a little squeal into her hands. Happy New Year’s Eve to her, indeed.

…..

Christina’s certification exam happens to fall on a rare week where the Canes have no games, which she’s grateful for because she doesn’t want to miss out on any. There are some practices, but she’s excused from those to study. 

The day after her exam, she feels a large weight lift off her shoulders. She won’t get the results for a few weeks, but she feels confident that she did well and she can pat herself on the back for a bit. 

She comes into practice in high spirits, having gotten a coffee and pastry from her favorite cafe on the way as a treat. She takes congratulatory messages from all the staff and some players with a smile. When Andrei skates up at the start of practice to her on the bench, he just smiles at her, shooting her a quick wink before skating off. She hopes she’s not blushing. 

He’s left her alone in the meanwhile while she’s been studying, but she’s hoping to catch him before he leaves the rink today to see when they can go out again.

Unfortunately, the team is in the video room as Christina heads to her office to pack up for the day. She guesses she’ll have to talk to Andrei tomorrow. She could just text or call him, but that doesn’t feel good enough. 

When arriving at her car, she stops short and squints. There’s a bouquet of flowers wrapped in brown paper tucked inbetween the door handle, red roses and sunflowers to be exact. 

“Oh good, you haven’t left yet,” she whips around to see Andrei jogging towards her. 

She turns back around to her car, staring at the flowers as he stops beside her. “What’s this?”

“A little gift. To congratulate you on finishing your exam.”

She swallows, suddenly emotional. “They’re beautiful.”

“Beautiful flowers for a-”

She whacks him lightly. “Don’t finish that sentence, you sap.”

He laughs. It’s becoming one of her favorite sounds. “But I mean it.”

“I know,” she finally turns to look at her and grins. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She tucks a piece of hair behind her ear. “Are you around this week to grab dinner or something?”

He runs a hand through his hair. “You know my schedule more than anyone.” She rolls her eyes as he chuckles. “Of course I am. We’ll find time.”

She hums. “Okay.”

“What should I tell the guys for now?” A sudden flurry of anxiety flashes through her veins. Andrei must see her face change, because he continues quickly. “I don’t have to say anything. We can keep it quiet.”

“Would you mind if we did? Just because it’s so…”

“I don’t mind,” his dimple pops out. “Promise. Let’s just go on another date first. Sound good?”

She bites her lip with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he repeats. His hands itch to reach towards her before he remembers that they’re just outside of the rink and that anybody could walk out at any minute. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“See you tomorrow. Thank you for the flowers, seriously.”

“I hope you’re proud of yourself,” he says, backing away. “You’re so smart and you worked really hard.”

She looks down at her shoes, warmth spreading through her body. “Thanks. Have a good night.”

“You too.”

(When Christina goes home and arranges the flowers in a vase, she sends Andrei a picture. He responds immediately with the heart-eyed emoji, and she feels the excitement of something new starting.)

…..

Christina’s a smart girl. When she gets a text from Doug a few weeks (and more than a handful of dates with Andrei) later to come to one of the conference rooms, she has a feeling it’s about her and Andrei. Though who would’ve said something? 

Her stomach drops on the walk over, her palms sweating as she fiddles with her staff badge. When she walks in, she sees Doug, Mary, head of the HR department, Coach Brind’Amour and Andrei himself all around a rectangular table.

Mary offers a warm smile. “Hi Christina.” 

Christina tries to smile back while shutting the door behind her. “Hi Mary and everyone.” 

“Please take a seat,” Mary says. The only empty one is next to Andrei. Christina gingerly sits down. “I guess we’ll just cut to the chase. It’s come to our attention that you and Andrei here are in a romantic relationship.” 

She blinks. Well, yeah. But-“From who?” 

“From me.” Andrei says. She whips her head to look at him and he grimaces. “I’m sorry. I know we planned to go together next week, but I slipped up in front of Coach this morning and…yeah.” 

“Of course you did,” Christina mutters. She hears Doug trying to cover a snort. “Um, yes, uh, we are. Seeing each other. Together. Whatever you wanna call it. We were going to come to your office next week. We weren’t gonna hide it or anything, I promise.”

“I understand,” Mary says. “First of all, your job is not in jeopardy. You’re not going to get fired because of this. Especially because it’s obvious you two weren’t trying to hide anything. ” Christina knows that, but she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t a little bit relieved. “Workplace relationships occur all the time. However, as I’m sure you both understand, your particular situation is a bit different. I have to ask when you two started this relationship.” 

Christina lets Andrei take the lead, partially curious about what he’ll say. He doesn’t hesitate. “New Year’s Eve.” 

She smiles internally. It’s nice to know he considers their first official date as serious as she does. 

“You do understand that in the workplace, there are boundaries.” 

Andrei and Christina both nod. Christina continues, twisting her fingers. “Of course. I’ll obviously continue with my responsibilities as I have been since I joined the organization and continue to do the best I can do with every player and staff member. Our relationship won’t affect that at all, I promise.”

“And I also understand the boundaries,” Andrei adds. “This will also not affect my performance on the ice and off. I continue being professional with all staff.”

“You both understand that no matter what happens that your professional relationship comes first?”

“Yes.”

“Yes ma’am.”

“And you both understand that when you come into work, you’re at work and focused on work?” They both nod. Mary looks around the room. “I mean, that’s really all I got. It seems like you two understand. I’ll draw out the paperwork and get it back to you two in a few days. Doug?”

Doug clears his throat. “First of all, I called this and Steve owes me $50.” Andrei lets out a surprised laugh but Christina isn’t even fazed. “Only thing I got is that I should probably take you off as the main person of contact for Svech for his general recovery regime we started in the beginning.”

She kinda saw that coming. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Andrei about to protest but she kicks him underneath the table. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“No worries. I’ll just take over. There’s not much to that anymore anyways, right?” She nods. He grins. “Great. As long as you keep doing the good work you’re doing, no issues here. Coach? Anything to add?”

Christina swallows looking at Coach Brind’Amour, but she breathes easier when he smiles a bit. “Nothing really from me. Svechy, you know what I expect from you. That doesn’t change. And Christina, you’ve done your job wonderfully thus far and as long as that doesn’t change, which I’m sure it won’t, no issues here. Do your teammates know, Svech?”

Andrei smirks. “Some of them have probably picked up on it. Nothing for sure though.”

Coach grins wryly. “You can be the one to tell them then, should you want to.”

“You’re gonna get chirped like hell,” Christina snickers, making everyone in the room laugh. 

Andrei looks over at her with a small pout. “And you won’t?”

“A little. But you’re the one playing with them. I’m just an lowly assistant trainer.”

Doug cackles. “Chrissy, I think you underestimate how much the boys like you. Get ready for comments everyday.”

“But not too mean,” Andrei says. 

Christina snorts. “Down, boy.” She turns back to Mary, Coach and Doug with a smile, feeling more comfortable now. “Is there anything else?”

Mary shrugs. “Besides the paperwork I’ll get you two to sign later, nope. You two are free to go. Thanks for coming in."

They all file out of the conference room while Christina and Andrei linger. Once everyone is out of earshot, she playfully shoves him. “Really?” She deadpans. 

“I’m sorry!”

She chuckles. “It’s fine. At least it’s out of the way. Would appreciate a warning next time though.”

He nods solemnly. “I know. I’m really sorry. It won’t happen again.”

She swallows, before leaning up to press a kiss to his cheek and going their separate ways. 

(Andrei lingers to watch her turn the corner of the hallway, a big smile on his face. Rod watches him)

…..

three years later 

The times that Christina is on the bench has gotten higher and higher the longer she’s been here. Hell, she’s one of few women to this day that has been on an NHL bench as a trainer, which is ridiculous since it’s 2027 and she’s just doing her job. Doug’s son is getting married this weekend so Christina knew she’d be taking over head duties for this game against the Rangers long before. 

It’s thrilling every time though, being on the bench. Everything’s so much louder and things seem to move so much faster, even though she’s been doing this for three years. Since puck drop, she’s been in the zone and thankfully so far, not needed. 

Until Andrei gets checked. Hard. Which rarely happens since he’s the one usually doing the checking. 

Fights break out on the ice, whistles are blown and Christina doesn’t need the ref’s signal — or anyone’s — to know that she needs to scurry out there fast. She’s praying that it looks worse than it is. 

She bends down next to Andrei, who’s crouched over in pain and places a gentle hand on his back. “Hey, baby. It’s me. Can you tell me what hurts?” He’s breathing heavily and doesn’t respond for a few seconds. “You have to tell me what hurts so I can help you.” He mumbles something in Russian and while Christina is 90% sure of what he’s saying, she can’t take any risks right now. “English, baby, please.”

“Chest.”

Okay. Lungs. Maybe ribs. He’s talking and breathing fine, even if heavily. “Okay,” she nods, going through her mental checklist rapidly. “Can you skate off by yourself?” He nods and she just rubs his back, giving him a few seconds. He eventually gets up on his own, which is a good sign, and she tries not to eat shit as they both get off the ice and go straight down the tunnel. 

Once he’s sat down on a training table, she puts her hands on his cheeks. “Drei. I need to hear the words from you.” 

Even in his injured state, Andrei knows. “I’m okay, solnyshka. Just hurting a bit.” 

“Okay. Let’s get your gear off and see what’s going on, yeah?” She helps him get off his gear until he’s completely shirtless. “Lie back for me.” She does her routine, pressing in specific spots and seeing how he reacts. She winces every time he hisses, even though it’s helping her determine what’s wrong. She goes through her questions, quickly determining if he’s done for the day or may be able to head back out. It's the end of the second period anyways, so they have more time to assess. 

“You got your shit rocked.” She says bluntly. She smiles lightly when she gets the reaction she wants, which is a snort out of him. 

“Yeah, which is fucking annoying.”

She swallows. “But you’re okay?”

“Yeah. Think it was more of just an impact hit.”

“Good, good.”

“What are you thinking, Doc?” Andrei jokes. “Am I good to go for the third period?”

“That really depends on you,” she says. “Like you said, it seems like it was more just an impact hit. Beside soreness and tenderness, nothing’s out of place or broken or sprained. But it’s all about how you feel.”

“Then why do you sound unsure?”

“Because I’m trying to talk to you like your trainer, not your fiance.”

Andrei softens and she has to look away. “Talk to me like you’re my fiance, solnyshka.”

“It was just a scary few seconds there, when you didn’t get up. That’s all.”

She swallows as he puts down the ice pack and puts his hands on her cheeks to make her look at him. “I’m sorry I scared you.”

She waves his apology away. “It’s okay. Getting hit is part of the gig. I know that by now.”

He rubs his thumbs on her cheek. “Still. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s just hard sometimes. Seeing you go down. Keep icing,” she instructs, backing away. Christina’s not afraid of being caught with PDA nowadays. Everyone in the organization knows they’re together after three years. But she still prefers keeping up a level of professionalism at work. 

“I think I’m gonna go back out, but I do limited minutes.”

She furrows her eyebrows. That doesn’t sound like him. “Limited minutes?” He just shrugs. “Andrei.” She deadpans.

“It depends on me, right? How I feel?” He says, throwing her words back at her as he starts putting his gear back on. 

“Yes. But you’re Andrei Svechnikov. You don’t know what the word limited means because you have no sense of self preservation.”

“Limited minutes,” he says firmly. “I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“The ring on my finger kinda indicates that I’ll always worry about you,” she responds dryly. 

He laughs, standing up. “Only for tonight, to be safe.” They hear the boys about to head out for the period and start walking out of the room. “Thank you for taking care of me.” 

“Just doing my job.”

He pulls her in to place a quick kiss on her lips. “And you do it well.”

“Good luck out there. Love you.”

“Love you more.” He runs back onto the ice with his teammates as she follows slower behind.

“He all good?” Coach Brind’Amour asks when she’s back on the bench.

“Yeah. Up to him if he wants to take every shift, but he’s cleared to go.”

Coach nods, “It never gets easier, does it?”

“Hm?”

“The look you had on your face when Svechy went down. It’s the same look I have when my son goes down. Still. And he’s been playing his whole life.”

She shrugs, trying to be casual. “It’s part of the job I signed up for.”

“Sure. But that doesn’t mean it’s easy.”

They both watch as the teams skate to center ice to take the faceoff. No, she thinks. It most definitely does not. 

It’s close to midnight when she and Andrei are walking out of the arena together. She yawns as she leans into him and he puts an arm around her shoulder. Luckily they have the day off tomorrow. Maybe she’ll force Andrei to try a new recipe for dinner together that she found online.

It’s not until she’s in bed, listening the shower run as Andrei quickly rinses, does she see her notifications. Fifteen texts from six people.

She clicks Layla’s first. It’s a link to a short Twitter video. She clicks on it. 

It’s a short clip of the broadcast right after Andrei’s injury, a replay she winces at, cameras showing her running out and all the chaos before they head into the tunnel. But it’s what the commentators are saying that Layla — and all her other friends who sent her messages — are freaking out about. 

“Svechnikov seems to be alright, able to get up on his own and slowly skate to the bench, which is always a good sign.”

“Christina, the Hurricanes’ assistant athletic trainer is out there with him, with Doug, the head trainer out for a few games for family obligations. Fun fact, she’s one of the few female athletic trainers in the NHL. Fantastic at her job and an incredible person as well.”

“Another fun fact to those who may not know, Christina and Svechnikov are engaged, getting married sometime next year. And that’s a beautiful Canes love story if I’ve ever heard one.”

“I can imagine it isn’t easy to have to see your fiance go down like that, even if it is a part of her job. They’re both heading down the tunnel now, so we’ll see if he comes back out for the third period. Hopefully he’s okay.”

She locks her phone. It’s been known to the general public that Andrei is engaged. He had posted on Instagram when he proposed. But it had been a silhouette shot and he hadn’t tagged her out of respect for their privacy. Christina’s Instagram is private too, so very few people they don’t personally know had put it together. 

Until now, that is.

“You saw it too?” Andrei says, coming out of the bathroom.

“Yeah. A bunch of people sent it to me.”

“And?”

“They didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. What do you think?”

He slides under the covers and kisses her forehead tenderly, “I love being known as your fiance. I’d ask you everyday to marry me if I could.”

“Sap.” She feels him laugh as she leans her head on his chest, drawing circles on his bare skin. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“I’m always gonna be okay. I have you.”

She kisses his lips before yawning, and he reaches over to shut off the lamp. 

(When Christina goes into work the next morning, Taylor’s waiting for her in her office. With no greeting, they set their laptop down and press play on a video. It’s a compilation of her and Andrei’s little pre-game ritual they had started a few months after they started dating. 

It’s Andrei, usually in his game day suit, and her in the hallway of whatever arena they’re in. He grabs both her hands and kisses her three times. Twice on the lips. Once on her forehead. She always adjusts his collar even if it doesn’t need to be adjusted, and then they’re both off to their separate ways. 

Christina had no idea Taylor had been filming this. For years, apparently, if the description in the bottom right of the video indicates anything. 2024, 2025, 2026 and this year, 2027. 

“I was gonna originally ask you if I could post it the day of your wedding,” Taylor says as the video ends. “But I also would never post it anywhere without you or Svech’s permission. I’m perfectly prepared to just keep this in the archives and never let it see the light of day.”

“You’ve been filming that all these years?”

Taylor smiles softly. “I have. The clip from last night is everywhere, with the broadcast talking about you two while you’re helping him on the ice. Twitter’s going crazy.  And I was thinking, and no pressure at all, but I was thinking that we could post this today. Everyone always loves behind the scenes content, like Marty screaming Svech’s name. I have a feeling everyone’s gonna love this little ritual too.”

The video has been replaying automatically and Christina can’t help but smile. “Okay.”

“For real?”

“Yeah. If you think it’s a good move, I trust you. You’re the social expert.”

“Well, perfect,” they grin. “I’ll catch Svech when he comes in to ask for his permission too.”

Christina snorts. “He’s not gonna say no, I can promise that.” 

He doesn’t. Taylor posts the video three hours later. The internet goes nuts. Andrei surprises her with dinner when she gets home after him, two plates of delicious-looking pasta on the table with a candle lit and a vase of fresh flowers. But the most beautiful sight is his dimpled smile. 

She kisses him. Hard. It feels like the first time again.)

~*~*~

tag list: @ru-kru, @bunbunbl0gs (lmk if you wanna be added!!)

[chrisbesitos]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ballerina & dealer headcannons. 🌟

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ ꒰͡⠀🩰 𝅄 💸⠀͡꒱

꒰͡⠀SFW⠀͡꒱

dealer.ᐟchris who:

met you at a party, you were wearing your ballet costumes, he finds himself obsessed with the bow in your hair. he also couldn't take his eyes off you, staring your tights in your pink pantyhose and your waist enhanced in the collant. it was the first time he put his eyes on you and by the moment he knew he wants you.

"you know you look like a doll wearing that bow?"

"do you think i look like a doll?"

"yeah, the prettiest one i've ever seen."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

takes you to your ballet classes, when he doesn't have to do deals, he waits until the class ends. he always says you're the best dancer, even if you tell him you're not doing well, he'll say no one is better than you.

"you looked so good, doll. i love watching you dance."

"nah, i wasn't that good today. i missed a few steps, i was a pretty mess."

"you're always good, don't say this. you're the best one, my favorite dancer."

"do you know other dancers, chris?"

"no, that's why you're my favorite. you're better than everyone else in that class."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

always massage your feet after a hard day, he knows sometimes you're not easy with yourself and training too much until your feet hurt. he doesn't like when you do this, but he knows your problems with perfectionism.

"you can't do this with yourself, doll. you're hurting yourself."

"i was practicing, chris. it's normal."

"no, it's not. you can't work hard until you feel pain, it's not healthy."

"i was trying to get better, sorry."

"don't apologize, 'kay? your mind tricks you sometimes and when this happens, i will be right here to help you. jus' no more hurting yourself like that."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

takes you with him for his deals. he let you pick the songs, even if he doesn't like some of them too much, he just wants to see you happy.

dealer.ᐟchris who:

he lets you smoke with him, but never more than a joint. if you're on a hard day, needing to relax a bit, he'll roll a joint just for you. it's not a problem for him, since he knows you smoke when you stress and he just wants to help you to relax.

dealer.ᐟchris who:

will be fucking mad if one of his costumers looks at you. no one can is allowed look at you the way he looks. he'll immediately delete the costumer contact, because no guy looks at his girl.

"he'd better find another guy to sell for him."

"what do you mean with this, baby?"

"i mean that i'm not gonna sell anything to a fucking guy who looks at my girl."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

buys you bows, cardigans and dresses. actually he'll buy whatever you want. if you say you want something, he'll buy the day next.

"why are you crying, doll?'

"i lost my favorite cardigan." "where are you going, baby?"

"to the car, let's buy a new one." "you're happy now? don't wanna see you crying."

"yes, but you really need to buy me three cardigans? i just need one."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

hates to see you cry, but if you cry, he'll hold you until you feel better. he doesn't care if you get his shirt wet or if he had to cancel his deals, nothing is more important than his girl.

"shhhh, jus' let it out." "i'm right here, i'm not gonna leave you, doll."

"i'm sorry, i didn't want you to cry like this in front of you."

"don't feel sorry, i'm here to this, 'kay? i'll never leave you."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

tells everyone you're his girlfriend, even though he hasn't asked you yet, because he doesn't know how to do it.

"so, you're dating her?"

"yeah, she's my girl."

"are you telling everyone i'm your girlfriend, chris?"

"you're not?"

"have you asked me, silly?"

dealer.ᐟchris who:

says he loves you when he's high as fuck, because he's scare to tell you when he's sober. even though she loves him back, you wants to hear from his mouth while he's sober.

"i love you, doll."

"you're fucking high, baby."

"but i still love you."

"tell me when you're sober."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

go to all of your concerts. he'll buy you a bouquet and gifts, because he's so proud of you. only you matters to him on the stage, he only pays attention on you.

"oh, is this for me? you don't have to buy it, baby."

"of course i have it, everything for my girl." "no, no, no, don't cry, baby. you deserve it."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

helps you to practice, even though he has no idea how to dance ballet. he just wants to help you.

"are you paying attention, chris?"

"yeah, keep going, doll."

"you have to look at me, not only my ass."

"sorry, ma. you have a nice ass." "sorry, i'll stop looking at you pretty ass."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

never leave your side at parties, because he doesn't want other guys looking at you and because he knows sometimes you feel too shy to talk with someone. he wants you to feel comfortable and if feeling off, he'll bring you back home.

dealer.ᐟchris who:

throws all your plushies on the floor when he's sleeping at your house, because he wants you to cuddle with him and not with your plushies.

"oh no, baby, c'mon."

"you're sleeping with me or with them? c'mon, doll, you're not gonna miss this fucking hello kitty when you with me."

"don't say shit about my hello kitty."

꒰͡⠀NSFW⠀͡꒱

dealer.ᐟchris who:

fuck you in the car after your ballet class, because he's so hard after watching you dance in your tight ballet costumes that he couldn't handle it until got home. he'll fuck you in the backseat.

dealer.ᐟchris who:

makes you remember who you belong after you dance with a male partner. he knows you're just dancing, but it's too much for him. he can't watch another guy touching your body, only he can.

"did he touch you like i do, doll?" "who's better, huh?"

"you. always you, baby." "no one is better than you."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

praises you when you're giving him pleasure. you're driving him insane when you sucking him off or riding him.

"oh jeez! just like that." "you're doing so well to me, doll."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

have to take a break from his deals to take care of you, because every time he lets you smoke in the car, you feel horny. he'll drive you back home and fuck you until you can handle it anymore.

"you're so needy, aren't you? "my pretty doll, always horny when you're high."

dealer.ᐟchris who:

gentle with you when you have your first time together. he'll show you how much he loves you and wants to give you all the pleasure you deserve.

dealer.ᐟchris who:

takes care of you when you're done. he'll clean you, run a bath, order food. everything for his girl and he'll not let you move one muscle, you just rest. he'll give you kisses and massages, then sleep holding you tight.

"you good, doll? did i make you feel good?"

"you're so good for me, baby."

hope you like it, i decided to start the series w the headcannons, so you can know them. <3

tags ; @lizzymacdonald06 @deliciousluminaryanchor @lushjunkie @sweetreliever @watercolorskyy @ivysturnss @brianna-grace12 @blahbel668 @gabri3la-sturns @strnlxlqve @stvrnzcherries @unknvhx @pvssychicken @all4l0vee

taglist | masterlist

[serxinns]

hii!!!!! can i request yandere class 1a hc/fic w reader that doesnt have quirk but fights ballerina/gymnastic move??? (like she does combat and fights back w elegant/flexible move in a way) ?? or maybe just a reader who doesnt have a quirk but still strong enough to fight ppl and gets accepted in ua?? i hope this isnt too much, love your works!!! ❤

The Elegant Hero

A/n: I can't beleive I worked on this and finished it all in one day! Yippee for me

Tw: slight bullying mentioned, cruel treatment against quirkless, ofc obsession behavior and unhealthy behavior and more if you're uncomfortable with. These topics that's gonna be included in the books don't read

☆prologue☆

your life was pretty interesting and would I say lucky? Yeah lucky your father was a professional fighter as your mother was a former ballerina star but retired due to personal reasons and now teaches young ballerinas, when they found out that you had a combat quirk (for example bubble quirk where you make bubbles to bounce across) they felt devastated and worried true to the harsh treatment on the quirkless and weak quirks, so at the ripe age of 5 you remembered you woke up with ballerina shoes and combat equipment on your bed with your parents smiling faces staring at you

day and night your parents will give you ballet and fighting classes it was fun at times but you hated the flexible training like when your mom kept putting you in uncomfortable and sometimes painful positions, Your father's combat lesson was always fun tho it was filled with life lessons and his stories of when he was just the same age as you he equally let you right with your hands feet (you mostly use your feet) and teach you how to pin someone down

but on the downside you couldn't exactly make friends or knew how to socialize many of your mother's students either envy you or just avoided you for being quirkless, some even made up rumors that your mother was just going easy on you just because you were her child,

even in middle school you were a but of a outcast but had a few friends a few girls would pick on you then and there trynand pick a fight at you but when you easily pinned down one at the snotty brats they left you alone here and there, one day at class your teacher announced that Ua was passing out applications for students with poteinal to join everyone eyes including yours brighten up you always wanted to be a hero to prove something or atleast make a change!

"Would anyone like a application!" The students hands all raised excitedly whispering to their friends with confident that they were gonna get in UA easy "may I have a flyer?" That one question made everyone silent and turned towards you some started snickering and whispering to their friend(s) even your teacher was flabbergasted "y/n are you sur-" "I am" you stood up and walked towards the front of the classroom to get a flyer ignoring all the snickering and mockery your clown of the students did you were gonna prove them wrong all wrong

The entrance exam was in 2 months and and that was good enough training time you spend your whole summer break training hard even your parents were a little worried occasionally checking up on you while you were either working on your flexibility or kicking and punching a punching bag in your parents training room

When it was time for the exam safe to say you were nervous and feeling a bit doubtful about yourself but you took a deep breath and head on to the start of the exam the students all lined at the starting line "Students ready.. in 3 2 1! Go" the flare gun shot and the students were flying, running and even teleporting

You use your ribbon wand to pull the medium villians towards you and kick them into a oblivion you smirked the suddenly you saw a robot foot about to stomp you untill a girl use wht seem to be a floating quirk but she was a struggling you then use your ribbon wand wrapping the 2P robots legs to restraint it and destroyed it "that's some amazing teamwork kids! Keep up the good work!" The loud intercom announced referencing to you two, the girl smiled at you mouthing a "thank you" as you did the same and went back to destroying more robots

Suddenly a huge crash came out the sky and there a injured boy was falling out the sky you and the short brown girl from earlier witness this and acted fast using your ribbon and aiming it towards the boy wrapping him up whike ochako slapped him which made him float gently down midway a small old lady came in cane in arm as everyone questioned why she was here she gave the boy a big fat kiss on the cheek which made his arm turned less purple in seconds! "You two make a pretty good team!" As she walked away

As you were leaving to turn back a the girl ran after you breathing in all "Hey I just wanted to say thank you.. back there" she smiled warmly "I should be thanking you! You saved my butt out there! With that quirk I'm sure you'll be getting in!" Then girl blushed at your comment as she bowed down to you " yea your quirk is too i really love how you use your ribbon wand and those moves!" You giggled at her statement which confused "Oh I wasn't using my quirk to quite don't have one! This ribbon weapon was something my mother and father put together!" Her eyes bleamed even more a at the mysterious and elegant kid as the two of you talked on the way out of ua unaware that a freckled kid was behind them listening to their conversation

"U-Um excuse me!" The two of you turned around to see a green hair kid with freckles looking all nervous and stuff "I'm so very sorry about having to save me you 2 really tried your hardest!" "Oh it's no problem we're just glad your ok!" Ochako agreed also showing kindness to the boy "if it's ok that I can walk with you as well?" He questioned and you happily agreed although ochako was a bit bummed out but brushed it off cause the more the merrier right?

As the 3 of you were talking and rambling on about hero stuff and teenager things a blonde hair boy glared at the trio as he began to walk towards his home

on the 1st day if school you were a but nervous you didn't expect to actually be accepted to Ua but Luck you guessed luck on your side your parents made sure you packed all your stuff and look atleast decent in the car your parents were busy chatting away about different topics that weren't really interested you instead you were mentally preparing for the students if they even decided to harass you since middle school and high school students weren't no different when it comes to others that seem "weak" in their eyes

As you arrived to your destination your parents waved you goodbye and drove away leaving you alone, you looked at the big school "this is it... this is where a building is gonna decide my fate" you then followed the other students walking into the school building...

☆ headcannons ☆

• as you search for your class in the endless halls of Ua you weren't paying attention to the school map you picked causing yourself to bump into someone "oh my apologies!" A person with no face nor mouth or.. anything! The only thing you can see was their uniform and by the looks of it it seems like a girl because they were wearing a skirt "Oh it's ok! I get that alot are you heading to Class 1a too?" You nodded, so now you and her are going onna mission to find the class!

•as you finally made it just in time you could see izuku and Ochako happily waving to you as you did the same Ochako patted a empty desk right besides her as you quickly made it there which to izukus defeated having to sit by the blonde hair kid instead of you

•as class ended while you were walking to your next period you sat next to a Red haired boy with sharp teeth, another blonde hair kid with a Black lighting strike, and a girl with seem to be earphones hanging off at the end of her ears, the red hair kid you later to find out his name was Kirishima, and his buddy Denki, and the girl who everytime tries to made slide and flirty comments at you and she would insult him which was jirou they were all nice individuals and such fun people to talk to

•Kirishima was talking snd whining how hard the classes were whike also trying to encourage himself as you did the same trying to make him comfortable while denki was either tryna get your number or just wanna be annoying but jirou your lifesaver kept zapping him with her earphones or walking him with the book as the 4 of you talked the most close they felt with you heck they felt they wanted to be even closer to you

• at the cafeteria you were pulled by Ochako and izuku to sit with them you were introduced to 2 new people one you recognize as shoto todoroki the father of the famous number 1 he endevour and Iida younger brother of the pro hero idk his name) shoto was mostly quiet just adding in a few words here and there when it was focused on him while Iida was chatting away about school safety and how he'll be a great hero just like his brother

•on the next day of training all might announced it was time to battle! Hero's vrs villians! But all might wasn't done just yet he brought put a huge clothes rack with Hero costumes in it as everyone cheered excited to show off their costume your costume was a ballerina outfit but with protective heavy gear especially on the legs with a mouthpiece to go with it ochako, izuku, Kirishima, and hakagure excitedly went up to you complimenting your outfit as you blushed cleary flattered

•A pink hair girl and another girl with a pony tail even compliments yours costume as well you avoided eye contact with the ponytail girl tho since her outfit was a bit..revealing! You felt a bit guiltily but the girl who is named momo was either not noticing it or wasn't paying attention rather she found it kinda cute while the pink hair girl was asking alot of questions and complimenting everything that you couldn't keep up with her

•at training you were paired up with Izuku and the blonde hair kid with iida you were nervous since this kid kept eyeing and staring at you intensity and it seems like izuku had the same reaction too "don't worry we got this izuku!" Your encouragement of words brighten up the boys spirit he wanted to win this not just to prove he's gotten stronger to his childhood rival but for you..

as the round start the two of you were running in the abandoned building untill a explosion came outta nowhere, standing infront of you was a boy with red glowing crimson eyes with a mask on with giant grenades hanging on both his arms "I'll stall him you go to the bomb!" You nodded as you ran the other way "You seem to be attracted to this quirkless deku" "they aren't just that they're more then that!" Bakugo smile turned sinister "really? well why don't I go over and see for my self!" As he was about to use his quirk izuku quickly grabbed him and slammed him on the ground

"I. Won't. Let. You" Izuku's expression darkened watching as the boy who bullied started to get pissed eyes staring intensity around at as they bpth started fighting ruthlessly, meanwhile you managed to get to the bomb here Iida was guarding at you "Hey you over there!" "Crap he spotted me" You then revealed yourself to the villian "stop right there! hero!" You quickly dodged iida's attack then aimed your ribbon wand wrapping the bo,b up and trying to pull it towards you, iida noticed and grabbed onto the rocket trying to pull it back "crap... this isn't working change of plans!"

You then grabbed a couple of rocks not so big to hurt him and threw it at the villian as iida was about to brace himself You and time to grab the rocket in time "Hero's win!" They announced you smiled in victory, "nice job out there hero!" You chuckled at iida's villian accent "thanks villian you tried to you were such a workout honestly!" As you and iida got out of the building you see izuku being carried off heading to the infirmary he spotted you and mouthed a "congrats" to you as you did the same in a worried manner

"Good job I guess.." you turned to see the same blonde hair kid from before "um thanks!" "Guess your not just a quirkless loser I guess" you narrowed his eyes at him "wow harsh" deciding to let it go and go meet up with your new friends today was very exhausting

•as the days go by you started hanging out more with your classmates more you started meeting new students with special abilities but you always have a werid feeling or have been seeing stuff

•like how you were busy talking with Ochako and you could've seen Denki giving her a glare but waving happily to you, or how Momo wouod occasionally invite you to hang out in her house or make study dates for just to two of you even if the classmates asked she'll make a Excuse

•Bakugo would degrade you at any opportunity he can get calling you a quirkless loser and stating that you need someone to protect which was werid so you tried your best to avoid him which he didn't like that at all so he started being LESS mean to you occasionally teasing you whenever you make a mistake or when you make a spelling error calling you dumb at every second Kirishima or his newly found gang would stop him but knowing him he still does it

•Sero would manipulate you into spending more time with you as like "I found this area here or there wanna come!" And would beg and guilt trip you into coming into you finally agreed He follows you around like some sort of lost puppy, his hands always on some part of your body

•mina was basically your fucking dance parther she begs you to teach her how to dance (even tho she's a fucking professional at it) and during you session would insisted you to play romantic songs ONLY romantic songs she wants to feel like you actually going along the lyrics living out her very own fantasy sometimes iida and izuku would join as well which ruins her fun

•Kouda is a absolute cinnamonroll he loves seeing you being drowned in his animal friends! The way your so gentle with the birds and how you nuzzle your cheeks against the rabbits and snakes his heart can't even take it anymore your just too precious!

•Sato bribes you like hypnotize you with your favorite treats to onky spend time with him and only him, get easily mad if anyone tries to take his pastries (denki, mina sero, or even bakugo) that are meant for you he insults them saying that they were for you and ONLY for you

•Tokoyami is mostly quiet around you as well like todoroki but he's more of the observation type he wants to know about everything about you whenni said everything I mean EVERYTHING to your likes and dislikes and your family and friends everything he and Todoroki would even team up to get as much info, don't get him wrong he thinks your very capable of yourself in the battle field but he can't help but worry as shit thinking about all the worse case senarios that could happen to you

•tsuyu is will prob act the most normal even tho she's just as obessive as then rest of them but she can managed it for now she convinces you to stay close by her whenever your friends started bickering over you getting any chance she can get to feel your body warmth when it's winter she's the most clingy when cold she clings on you like stitches to the point it can be suffocating at times

• Aoyama is your basically worshipping you to the GROUND like your elegantly and graciousness just gets him on his knees for you he starts going to dancing sessions to impress you on his move makimg you play all sorts of songs that includes slow dancing, ballet just anything he just wants to be as close as you as he can be as return he'll teach you French! And treat you cheese!

• at training they will cause up a storm about who will be your parther for sparing to the point aizawa just says "fuck it!" And be your parther to everyone dismay, your gonna get tugged in different directions by everyone to the point if you ever need a break you will need to be extra quiet to sneak away and hide for a while

•even at the bath scene where mineta was about to climb the wall majority of the boys lose it seeing that rodent bakugo even assist todoroki you know it's bad and izuku just let's him as the other boy find ways to get the pest down.. while the girls on the other hand try their best to cover you as best as they can while tsuyu and jirou gets read to beat the shit out the little grape

[ananke-xiii]

Some speculations about the power of stories, cycles and karma and... Boyd.

***FROM spoilers (although it's mainly just my predictions lol)***

One of the things that I like about FROM is how they use different forms of art to help people remember things about their past.

Miranda used paintings so that she could remember and so does her son, Victor, who draws so that the pictures would remember for him. And it's precisely his sister's drawings that help him remember what he had removed.

Then, there's music, obviously, that make Tabitha and Jade remember not exactly their lived past but their karmic past.

There's also dance in the show but it hasn't worked its magic yet, I'm very curious to see how the ballerina is connected to Boyd and... Tillie? It's still minor compared to the previous two but I think we'll see our ballerina again pretty soon.

There's, finally, the power of stories. Ethan is the key-figure here because he's our go-to guy for all the crazy meta-ness of the show. But also Kenny and Kristi were reading a story together (cute and very Lancelot and Guinevere of them), they got stuck at chapter 6 or something before shit hit the fan so... I hope they won't forget about that.

More importantly, I'm very curious about one specific aspect: season 3 ended with Ethan saying that a story that has been told can't be changed so everyone is talking about how FROM is following LOST rule of "Whatever happened, happened", aka: you cannot change the past. Okay. But.

But I wonder if this is going to be the case with FROM since we now know for sure that the main theme is breaking the cycle of abuse. Since the show has introduced the concept of reincarnation I'm wondering if this means that yes, okay, the past cannot be changed, the story has been already told and there's nothing that we can do about it BUT isn't breaking it the whole point of karma?

I mean, a lot of major characters are starting to remember their trauma so this is good news but this also means that the show is faced with the three narrative choices, I think:

keep to its genre and let everything end in horror and blood. I think this type of ending can only be satifsying in movies but in shows where people invest a lot of time across multiple seasons spaced out over long years? Mmmm, it's very tricky to pull off. I mean, it can be done but I think it's very hard to convince people who have watched a show for over 5+ years that yeah, everybody dies horrendously, hurrah!;

the LOST way: some people manage to escape the town and go back to their lives and they all (more or less...) met there because they needed each other to move on from their past. I think this won't happen because of Harold Perrinau. He specifically accepted the role because he was promised it wasn't gonna end like LOST, so... Either FROM's ending will be a huge embarassment for everybody involved or it won't end the same way as LOST (fingers crossed);

since we've been shown that art has healing powers, stories too will be healing for the characters, aka they'll manage to change the narrative/the past. Now I think this is where the money's at and why I'm so intrigued by the introduction of time travels.

My istinct tells me that it's going to be a mix of 1 and 3: I think the show will end with the breaking of the cycle but I don't think that one particular character will make it to the end. The character is Boyd and I think that in season 4 he'll be key to understanding if the show will have a happy ending or not. So far I think it's not gonna be happy-happy for everyone.

I don't think Boyd will make it to the end because the elements so far tell me so:

1. The ballerina dance didn't help him remember anything, as a matter of fact he destroyed the music box to save people. This is a huge red flag: will he destroy his chance to break his cycle for the sake of other people?;

2. He's got two sons in the show: his actual son Ellis and his putative son Kenny. Kenny's father, Bing-Qian suffered from dementia and has been associated with feelings of confusion and with not being understood. He also talks about another form of universal language, that is chess. He unfortunately dies (Boyd seems to suffer from Parkinson's and he's convinced it's that because his father had it but he was never actually diagnosed with it. Or it's not been shown yet). Abby, Boyd's wife, also dies by none other than Boyd's hand. She was described as "confused" and people believed that she had started to show signs of some sort of paranoia, I think (we know now that, perhaps, she was remembering her past life). She wasn't understood/believed, too. Kenny's mother, Tien-Chen, dies as well and her death is also connected to Boyd. So, I mean, as far as parental figures with whom he's paralleled/paired go, things don't look good for our sheriff;

3. The point of the show seems to be that parents must avoid the sacrifice of their children. Boyd has two sons and he has martyr-like tendencies. Sooooo..... again, things don't look good for him;

4. Boyd-as-husband is connected to Henry and Jim. They're all husbands who didn't believe their wives and didn't support them. Henry and Jim are also heavily associated with the Man in Yellow who seems to be the primary abuser of the show (or he's very strongly related to the cycle of abuse that's been happening for who knows how long). Henry and Jim (and Boyd too, by extension) are portrayed as ambiguous figures, they're clever man who're also very morally skewed. There's something dark about Henry, I'm not sure about his intentions, his talk with Donna about thinking that, for a moment, he hoped that Victor were dead... I mean, it was a human moment but it was also ominous. (Let's also not forget about Boyd being a former-military and how the Civil War is a sleeping theme in the show. Henry was doing hard drugs with Miranda in the 70s so this tells me he wasn't sent to Vietnam? There's a latent element of actual war here. I don't know how it'll pertain to Henry, Jim (Jim's father was an alcoholic, is PSTD from war related to this?) and Boyd in the town but I KNOW there's something going on. I unfortunately don't remember much about my American History class at uni so I can only pick up the vibe without really explaining it, it's so frustrating).

While I'm more confident about points 1, 2 and 3, I'm not so sure about point 4. I think this will be the gordian knot of the story.

For whatever reasons, time travels are associated with grand-fathers/fathers and their assassination or impossibility thereof. On one hand, with the introduction of Henry (who's got the same function as Jim), Jim seems to be redundant and therefore his death is final. On the other, if his death is final it means that Julie, as a story-walker and time traveler, cannot change the past. This doesn't bode well for my hoped-for happy ending.

The shows seems to tell us: it's not about whether or not you can kill your father when you time-travel because it's about saving your father! (Julie saved Boyd-as-father in the well by handing him the rope).

So we have a story about parents saving their children and children saving their parents! Isn't this beautiful? I literally can't wait to see if I'm right or not about this, lol.

It all boils down to Boyd: so far the story is telling me that parents will most likely save their children but they probably won't be able to save themselves. However, Julie did save one father-figure so far, will she be able to save her own father? Can children save their parents?

These are very interesting questions but I truly hope they will stick to the "art has the power of changing people" theme (parents, children, everyone!) and give us a healing story rather than a hopeless one. Can we make it through the horrors or not? More importantly, can we make it together and stop this sacrifice madness??? I think we need stories that heal and give us hope!!!

p.s. for posterity: Season 4 will have "Tie a Yellow Ribbon Round the Ole Oak Tree" playing in one of the diner's jukebox. Mark.My.Words.

[kyurume]

"he'd be the type of guy to.." haikyuu edition ♡

notes: NOT proofread, i wrote rhis at 1:50am just some thoughts, all will be written with timeskip versions of them in mind. fem reader just cause also i chnaged title cuz it sidnt make sense LMAO

warning/s: NONE

genre: fluff

characters: hinata shoyo, kozume kenma, kageyama tobio, miya atsumu

hinata would be the type of guy to let your dates go unplanned (in a good way!!!) ypu guys get to do whatever you'd like, unrestrained. if you wanna go to a goodwill/thrift store and find cool items, he'd happily go with you. he'll also secretly get you some things that you stared at for too long. like those sparkly pink cowboy boots, a music box where instead of a ballerina spinning it's a middle finger, and a bikini that barely covers anything. then after buying those, you'd go in your car, and he'd hide them under the car seat, but the bikini's straps stick out from under the seat, and you go "what the fuck is that??" so he has no choice but to bring out the bag filled with the stuff you looked like you wanted, and surprised you early. do you want to go to an indoor volleyball court? hinata rented one just for the two of you to play. but you never got to play anything, you two are busy running around, playing hide and seek in the surprisingly large building. yes, for other people, things don't always go to plan. but for you two? you make the best out of unplanned surprises.

kenma would be the type of guy to really REALLY appreciate all of your pitiful efforts to pay him back for what he buys you. he loves, LOVES spoiling you, spending his CEO money on you is his love language. even though he acts a little nonchalant about it, he always loves seeing the smile on your face when he bought you something you've wanted for so long. but, you'd feel bad about what he's spending on you, and the effort he puts into working so hard 24/7, and going with you to the mall and buying you everything. so, you decide to repay him in different ways! like baking cookies that took you all day to bake but they taste bitter, but he still eats all of them in one sitting. you made him lots of origami flowers, he'd have it displayed in his room, without a single speck of dust landing on the paper, he knows that you feel guilty about him spending lots on you so you do these things, he keeps telling you that what he's spending on you isn't going to make a dent in his bank account, but you still wouldn't listen. (he secretly freaks out if you do things for him)

kageyama would be the type of guy to learn about anything you're into, and he'd teach you about what he's into in return. if you like a certain singer/band, and you love to quote a line from a song/an inside joke, he's going to be curious about it, and eventually, he'll start quoting it too, (at the start, he usually had trouble deciding whether or not the situation you're in would apply, but he's quoting that lyric/inside joke like he knows that band/singer better than you do.) he taught you volleyball, do you love spiking? he'd set for you, and you'd drive that ball home. do you prefer setting? he's gonna make you attend setter bootcamp, on god he's gonna turn into your coach instead of your boyfriend. you like blocking? he'd make sure he'd get his hits past your blocks, and of course tell you all sorts of positions you put your hands in if you want to change the trajectory of the ball, or completely shut it out. do you like recieving? he'll throw different types of serves your way so you'll learn how to recieve all of them perfectly. or if you'd love serving more, he'd be teaching you how to get service aces and eventually be better at serving than his team (according to him). he may be a pro volleyball player, but that doesn't mean he won't make time for you.

atsumu would be the type of guy to relax and pamper yourselves in his free time. despite his loud and rowdy personality, you and mr japanese barry b benson with a kansai accent, oftentimes go to spas, and get massages, facial treatments, all that good stuff. then he'd take you out to a hot spring after a major tournament is over, the steaming water helping to relax, and also give his skin some benefits too! after all, he's a volleyball player that has the looks of an idol, he has a face and body he has to maintain. if you guys don't want to go out, he'll look up recipes for diy mud masks to apply to eachothers faces, maybe even bringing out a stash of facemasks from his skincare mini frige and watch a movie together while waiting for the facemask to dry out. you're pretty lucky to have a skincare boyfriend, since you have never had a single skin problem ever since you started dating him. if there's an event you two will be attending, he'll prioritize the both of you looking and feeling fresh. you two would be the couple with the clearest skin in the room.

[lostgirlmuseum]

The Swan and the Soldier

^made w/ pinterest

Pairing: tfatws!Bucky x f!dancer!reader

Summary: Bucky is signed up to act in the Nutcracker against his will. But it isn’t all bad. At least not after he meets the cute costume designer. 

Words: 5.6k (oops)

Warnings: Mention of an injury + brief description of pain, poor writing at times, lemme know if I missed anything

A/N: I really hope this isn't complete dog shit

(Dividers by me😎)

“You want me to what?”

Bucky dropped his sandwich back onto his plate.

“I was gonna do it but I’m too busy to make every rehearsal.”

Bucky had been staying in Louisiana for the past month, finally taking a break from going from fight to fight. Sam encouraged him to stay with him at Sarah’s place, which Bucky did for a while, but after a couple of weeks, he decided to rent his own place. He was still near to Sam, and was at his house nearly every day, seeing as he was only a fifteen-minute drive away. Bucky just felt like less of a burden this way. 

“And I’m not busy?” Bucky countered, staring at Sam from across the kitchen table, where they were taking a quick lunch break before getting back to the boat.

“Well—” 

“Shut up.”

“It would mean so much to AJ. It’s his first dance recital and I think he would be a lot less nervous if someone he knew was on stage with him.”

“I’m not a ballerina, Sam.”

“You don’t have to be!” He quickly uttered, putting down his own sandwich. “They just need a couple of parent volunteers to step in and play the adults at the beginning of the show.”

“I haven’t liked dancing since the 40’s. And I don’t know how I feel about being on stage. Would I have to wear a costume?”

“It’s the Nutcracker.” Sam raised an eyebrow and gave Bucky a judgmental once over. “I don’t think it fits the show to have you dressed like an angsty motorcyclist.”

“Sam, I don’t think I can—”

“Uncle Bucky!” A cheerful voice entered the room as AJ came bounding up to the table.

“Hey, kid,” Bucky smiled, giving the boy a quick fist bump. 

“Uncle Sam told me you would be a part of my recital!”

“He said what now?”

“What?” AJ asked, oblivious.

“Nothing, I—AJ, could you give Uncle Sam and me a second?”

AJ nodded and skipped back outside into the sun. Bucky glared over at Sam.

“So maybe I jumped the gun a bit…”

“Samuel.”

“You can say no,”

“You know I can’t say no now!” Bucky flung his hands out, exasperated. 

“You can! You’ll just disappoint him. But if that’s what you want to do—” Sam trailed off, taking a bite out of his turkey and provolone. 

“This is manipulation.”

“Is it working?” Sam mumbled and swallowed.

Bucky shook his head and stared at his plate. “You owe me.”

“Big time! Promise.”

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” Bucky mumbled, planting his face in his palms.

“Rehearsals are Tuesdays and Thursdays,” Sam got up from the table and grabbed his now empty plate, “you’re making the kid really happy.”

“Yeah, yeah. To be clear, I am doing this for him. Not you. I don’t give a shit about you.” He pointed.

“Love you too, Buddy.” 

Bucky found himself that very Thursday at the ballet studio, in a small group of parents, as a petite young woman—well, she looked about 60, but compared to Bucky, she was young—introduced herself, a southern accent clear in her cheery tone.

“Welcome parents and volunteers! Most of you already know me, but I’m Ms. Cindy, the head of this program and this year’s Nutcracker! I’d like to start by thanking all of you for taking time out of your busy schedules to be here and support us and your children. It’s you who keep this dance studio up and running, and I’m so grateful for that. Throughout today, you’ll each get called to get your measurements taken so we can be sure that the costumes are ready before the performance. And as for roles, we’ll figure that out at the end of class. I have to go teach the little ones, but feel free to take a seat and watch the choreography your students have been learning all season!”

Bucky followed the others, who seemed to already be acquainted with each other, into a small observing room attached to the studio where AJ was practicing. Bucky stuck himself in the back corner and watched AJ through the one-sided mirror for only a couple of minutes when his name was suddenly called.

“James Barnes?” 

Bucky looked up to see a woman standing in the doorway. He ignored the glances that turned his way as he followed the woman out the door.

Did they know who he was? Did they know what he had done? Or maybe they had no idea. Maybe they were judging him for not engaging with them in polite conversation, maybe they thought he was weird for hiding silently in the corner. 

Bucky pushed the thoughts out of his head as the (attractive, he might add,) woman opened the door for him into a new room. It wasn’t huge, but it wasn’t a closet either, and Bucky immediately noted the lines of clothing racks stuffed with colorful dresses that lined the walls.

“I just need to get your measurements quickly for your costume. I can take them now, or if you’re more comfortable, I can send you a list of measurements I need and you can get those numbers to me on Thursday if you’d prefer.” 

Bucky thought for a moment. He wasn’t entirely sure how to take his own measurements, and he sure as hell did not want Sam of all people helping him. On the other hand, having a stranger so close to him sounds embarrassing and stressful. But he saw the kindness in her eyes, and oddly enough, he felt he could trust her.

“Now is fine."

“Sounds good.” She gave the sweetest smile he had ever seen and told him where to stand. He took off his jacket with ease, feeling somewhat comfortable knowing he had a long-sleeved shirt under to hide his metal arm. He kept his leather gloves on, and she said nothing.

She demonstrated to him how to hold his arm, and he obeyed, holding his right arm out and bent at the elbow. She chatted as she brought the tape measure along his arm. “Which kid is yours?”

“Oh, none of them.” 

He noticed the subtle tilt of her head.

“I mean, I’m not a dad, but I’m AJ’s uncle. Well, a friend of his uncle but,”

Luckily, she stopped his ramble before he could truly embarrass himself.

“Oh, you’re Bucky?” She dropped the tape to her side and smiled. “I’ve met Sam a couple times, but I’ve heard all about you and him from Sarah.”

“Oh? All good things I hope?” 

He asked in a lighthearted tone, but in reality, he was terrified of the things she’d heard about him.

“Only good things.” She grinned and grabbed the pencil behind her ear to scribble a number on a chart.

“That’s a relief.” His eyes scanned the room, trying to think up conversation to fill the silence. “So are you a parent volunteer?”

“Not a parent, no. I used to be a part of this program growing up. It’s done so much for me, and I wanted to stay connected, so I help out here and there when I can. I mostly fit the costumes.”

“That’s cool.” 

Cool. Cool. Cool response Bucky. Ask her a question, dammit.

“Do you still dance?”

“Not anymore. Can you put both arms out to the side please?” She asked, and Bucky lifted his arms so she could measure his chest. She continued to make conversation as she wrapped the tape around him. “AJ is a great student. He has a lot of potential, he just needs to find his confidence. And he’s a great kid. You’re a lucky uncle.”

“I am,” Bucky responded, trying desperately to not freak out at how close she was to him, and how she was only going lower, as she moved to his waist.

She took a break to write down a couple more numbers and returned to him.

“Now I need a hip measurement, so I have to measure around your butt. Is that okay?”

Bucky gave a convincing nod. “Do what you gotta do.”

‘Do what you gotta do’? What the hell am I saying?

He avoided looking at her and held his breath as she brought the tape around his hips.

“Just a couple more measurements and you’ll be out of here,” she assured, dropping the tape from his hips. “You can put your arms down now.”

Bucky let his arms rest at his sides.

She quickly went about measuring his legs and finished a couple of minutes later.

“You’re all good to go, Mr. Barnes, thank you!” 

“You can call me Bucky,” he tried to hide his bashful smile and started to exit out the door, but stopped and turned at the last moment. “What was your name again?”

“Oh, I’m Y/N.” 

“It was nice to meet you, Y/N.” 

He liked the way it felt on his tongue. With that, he said goodbye and returned to the observing room.

Thirty minutes later class was nearly over. All that was left on the agenda for the day was to form the groups.

“So it seems we have an odd number…Lois, is this everyone?” Ms. Cindy asked, looking over to her assistant.

“Everyone that signed up, yes.” Lois, a shorter girl with an auburn bob, tapped on a clipboard.

“Let’s just see how this goes. Mr. and Mrs. Tudor will be group one, Mr. and Mrs. Malone will be group two, Mrs. and Mrs. Cardoza will be group three, and that leaves Mr. Barnes…”

“We could have him be a single parent to his group?” Lois offered, looking up from her list.

“We could, but then who would he dance with at the party scene?”

Bucky swore he saw a literal lightbulb light up above Ms. Cindy’s head as her gaze fixated somewhere in the back of the room where you were simply passing by.

“Oh, Y/N? Dear?” She called in a uniquely falsetto voice.

“Yes, Ms. Cindy?” Y/N answered, pausing.

“I realize you’re already doing our costumes, but would you be interested in volunteering as one of the parents? We are short a person.”

“Oh, um…”

“You can think about it Dear. It’s no trouble if you feel that it’ll take up too much time, we appreciate you for your dedication to the costumes.” Ms. Cindy was careful to add.

Despite her initial hesitance, Y/N spoke up.

“I can do it.”

“Are you sure?” Ms. Cindy blinked, surprised by the answer.

“Yeah,” she breathed, “yes. I’ve already got measurements, all I need to do is submit an order. And I can’t tailor anything anyways until the shipment comes in.”

“A round of applause for our beautiful and dedicated Y/N, everyone!” Ms. Cindy cheered and began clapping her hands in a circle. The parents all joined in, and Bucky gave a quiet few claps. “That means Mr. Barnes and Y/N will play the fourth couple. Splendid!”

Lois tapped Ms. Cindy on the shoulder and pointed to her watch. Time was almost up. Ms. Cindy was fast to get back to business.

“Now let’s quickly assign each group their children, and then we can end rehearsal.”

“Buck, I’ve got some good news.” Sam’s voice flowed through Bucky’s phone.

It was Tuesday morning, and Bucky had been up and dressed since seven in the morning, eager to pick AJ up, even though class wasn’t until 5 p.m. He was currently lying on the couch, watching the clock tick by.

“What, you finally learned to use the potty like a big boy?” Bucky mocked.

“It was one time. ONE. TIME. You know I don’t fuck with clowns!”

“I don’t like clowns either, but you don’t see me shitting myself at the Halloween Festival.” Bucky quietly chuckled.

“First of all, I didn’t ‘shit’ myself. I peed. A little. And second of all, I had a lot of hot chocolate beforehand, and my bladder was at max capacity, and—why the hell am I explaining this to you?”

“Because you know I’m never going to let you live it down.”

“Moving on,” Sam sighed, “I was calling to tell you that you don’t need to be in the performance with AJ anymore.”

Bucky shot up from his lying position. “What do you mean?”

“My schedule freed up a bunch so I can take AJ and be in the show now.”

“Oh.”

Bucky slumped back onto the cushions, dejection dripping from his voice. Sam clearly picked up on it.

“What do you mean, ‘Oh’? I thought this was good news for you. I know I forced it onto you and all, and your thing isn’t really being on stage in front of a bunch of people.”

Bucky picked at the edges of his fingers, carefully considering his next words.

“I mean it’s not my thing, but—I don’t know, I feel like I’ve committed. And I get to spend some time with AJ, y’know? And, truth be told, it’s not all bad.”

There was a pause on the line before Sam’s voice rang through.

“That’s awfully sweet Buck. And very out of character for you.”

“Shut the fuck up, I can be nice.”

“Yes, of course. Bucky Barnes, the world’s famous sweetheart, how could I forget?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Bucky warned.

“Bye, metal man.”

“Fuck off bird brain.” Bucky was about to hang up, but quickly added in a serious tone, “I’ll be there this afternoon to pick AJ up.”

“You’re a good man.”

“Whatever.”

“Welcome back everybody!” Ms. Cindy’s high voice rang. “We are going to practice the beginning of the show where the families enter the party. We’ll take it group by group, so let’s start with group one, the Tudors. Your family is super excited for this party, so we’ll have you enter stage right and I need the children to be skipping and bubbly.”

Ms. Cindy instructed the groups one by one. Eventually, she got to Bucky’s group, which he shared with you and four kids, including AJ.

“And our final group, group four, is the family that does not want to attend. The parents should be trying to get the kids to smile, and at least act like they are happy to be there.”

Bucky let you take the lead and simply followed what you did. He walked beside you, stopped when you stopped, turned when you turned.

“Good, now make it look like you are trying to get the kids to smile.”

Bucky copied the way you pointed to your cheery smile and did his best to ignore the embarrassment bubbling in his chest. 

The comically grumpy—and much better actors than him—kids sighed and plastered on cheery expressions. 

“Good, and you can continue walking.” Ms. Cindy ordered.

Group four finished the short trek across the stage successfully. For such a simple task, Bucky had felt surprisingly nervous. 

Ms. Cindy quickly gave her praise and ordered everyone to start over. As Bucky and his group were going back to the line, she offered some advice.

“Y/N and Mr. Barnes, could you try holding hands? You don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else.”

Bucky gulped. Of course you don’t look as ‘coupley’ as everyone else, all the other couples are actually couples, and married for God’s sake!

You, on the other hand, simply said “Okay.”

“Group one, go,” Ms. Cindy called, and the Tudors began to cross the makeshift stage.

The line moved forward, and Bucky with it. He began to sweat a little. 

Hold your hand? With my left hand? My metal hand?

She simply glanced at him and gave him a small smile.

“And group two,” Ms. Cindy called.

Everyone stepped forward.

The good news is that Bucky was wearing his gloves, but surely she’d notice his hand felt different and think he was weird. Although, did she already know about his arm situation? She did mention that she’d heard about him and Sam from Sarah. Maybe she already knew, and wouldn’t care?

“Group three!”

Bucky looked back at the kids trailing behind him and spotted AJ beaming right back at him. Suddenly, Bucky felt ridiculous. 

Bucky, you’re being an idiot. Be a man and hold her hand. It’s not that deep. You’re doing this for AJ.

“And four,”

He grabbed her hand and started to walk with her. The first thing he noticed was how small her hand felt in his. It gave him an unfamiliar tingly feeling in his chest. He wasn’t sure he liked it, but it was better than anxiety.

He tried his best to puff out his chest and mimic her confidence as they walked. Bucky stopped halfway through, like they were supposed to, and turned to face the kids like last time. He pretended to point to his smile and finished the walk across the stage.

“Excellent! Let’s move on.”

Bucky managed to make it through the entire class without sweating his clothes off from nerves. 

“You ready to go, AJ?” 

AJ yelped, “Wait! I want you to meet one of my friends!” He dramatically waved over to a little girl with a sunflower barrette in her hair who came skipping over. “This is Ava.”

“Hi, Ava.” Bucky gave an awkward smile.

The little girl looked up at him unphased. 

“Hi, Mr. Bucky. So are you really a superhero?”

Straight to the point, huh? “Oh—um,”

“He is!” AJ butted in, “He’s friends with my Uncle Sam, they save the world all the time!”

Ava crossed her arms across her chest and jutted a leg out.

“So can you fly?” She squinted.

“Nope, I can’t fly.” Bucky began to rub the back of his neck.

“Can’t your Uncle Sam fly?” She asked, looking at AJ with skepticism.

“Yep!”

“So if you can’t fly, what can you do?”

Before Bucky could even begin to stutter, Y/N appeared.

“Hey, Ava! I think your mom is looking for you.” She said, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder.

“Okay, I gotta go. Bye AJ,” Ava quickly spouted and ran off towards the doors.

“Bye!” AJ shouted.

Bucky noticed Y/N holding his blue cap out to him.

“I think you forgot your hat.” She spoke softly. 

“Didn’t even realize, thanks.”

“It’s no problem, Bucky.”

Bucky was about to give a lopsided grin when AJ interjected,

“Only friends and family call him that.”

“Oh, I’m sorry! James, then.” She brought her hand to her cheek.

“No, no, Bucky is fine,” Bucky quickly corrected, “you can call me Bucky.”

“You’re sure? I don’t mean to overstep,”

“You aren’t, I like it when you call me Bucky.” 

He instantly felt his cheeks get warm at his confession. Before she could respond, he quickly changed the subject.

“Oh, by the way, I wanted to let you know that I can’t be here at the next rehearsal. AJ will be here, but I completely forgot that I’ve got an appointment that day.” A monthly check-in with Dr. Raynor that he forgot to move. “I don’t know if you want me to meet somewhere instead, or I can just come early on Tuesday and you can catch me up to speed or…I mean whatever you think is best.”

“If you want, we can meet on Friday at my place. I can send you the address if you’d like?”

“Yeah, yes, sure, let me get my phone—” he fumbled while grabbing it out of his pocket, “what’s your number?”

“Hey, come on in!” Y/N appeared behind the crisp white door of a cute house, not unlike the Wilson’s, and gestured inside before grimacing. “Sorry, I should’ve asked before, are you cool with dogs?”

Bucky nodded.

She gave a sigh of relief and fully opened the door. Bucky couldn’t help but smile at the graying corgi staring back at him.

“This is Frank,” Y/N said, bending down to bring the panting dog into her arms.

“Hi, Frank.” Bucky greeted, giving the dog gentle pets with his right hand. “Your house is lovely,” he added after catching a glance around.

“Oh, thanks!” She smiled, walking into the living room area to set the dog down on the couch. “This is actually my parent’s house, I’m just house and dog sitting for the week while they’re out of town. Usually, I live in my apartment.”

“Is this where you grew up?” Bucky asked, eyes searching the place. He noted the multitude of picture frames lining the wall and the slightly worn couch.

“The first eighteen years of my life. I told myself I’d be out of Louisiana by the time I went to college, but clearly that didn’t happen.” 

“Where did you want to go?”

“New York, San Francisco, I don’t know, maybe even Australia or France.” she laughed at the absurdity and sighed. “C’est la vie,” 

Bucky stuck his thumbs in his pockets and stared down at his feet, unsure of what to do next.

“Can I get you anything? Water? Iced Tea? I can make some coffee. Are you hungry?”

“Just water is fine,”

“Sure, one second.”

Bucky took the opportunity to explore the room. His curiosity was set on the shelf beside the fireplace, and the multitude of shiny awards it adorned. 

Several faux gold figures of ballerinas and a plaque filled the space, as well as what looked to be a photo album. Bucky thought better than to touch it, however, he did notice the significant lack of dust on it compared to the trophies. 

“I see the obnoxious shrine of my dancing days has caught your attention.”

Bucky spun around, cheeks a little pink at the notion of being caught wandering. He was looking for the right thing to say as you took a seat on the couch and placed the water on the coasters.

“Looks like you’re an amazing dancer.” He nodded, hoping that it was the appropriate thing to say.

She ducked her head at the compliment. “I was okay.” She pointed to just beyond his shoulder at the photo album. “You can look at it if you want,” she offered, clearly sensing his curiosity.

Bucky grabbed the binder from its spot on the shelf and took a seat next to her. He slowly opened the book to the first page. 

There you were, 4 years old in a bright pink tutu, beaming at the camera. The page was covered in cute stickers and artistic swirls. 

“My mom has a knack for crafty things,” she said, vaguely gesturing to the book.

Bucky hummed and began to gingerly flip through the pages. It was odd but endearing seeing you change through each photo and page, but one thing that stayed constant was your eyes. In every photo they had the same sparkle, the same light. It looked so right on you, but he didn’t recognize it in you now.

Bucky stopped on the page dedicated to age 17 and marveled at the costume you were wearing. He couldn’t look away from the intricate feathers and sequins.

“That was for our Spring production of Swan Lake.”

Bucky turned to see a subtle smile on her lips. She was looking at the book, but it seemed as if she was seeing right through it.

“You were the swan?”

“Odette, yeah.”

Bucky turned the page once more, except this time there was no photo—just the outline of where one would be on a mostly blank page, minus the glittering bold number “18”.

“Anyway, the choreography,” she quickly chimed, her attitude dramatically changing, “I’ve got the video right here, we can watch it first.”

She snatched the album up and placed it back on the shelf before handing him her phone. Bucky watched the thirty-second clip of two of the volunteers—possibly the Tudors if he remembered correctly—as they danced a shockingly simple routine.

“That’s it?” He cocked an eyebrow. 

“That’s it.” She assured. “Ready to try it?”

“I might be a little rusty, it’s been a while since I’ve danced.”

She turned on the music and started counting under her breath.

They started by facing each other, their right palms in front of them, and placed against each other. They both took a step in, a step out and circled around the other to which they were now in the opposite places. She curtsied, he bowed, and then they repeated the step in, step out, switch. Now they stood next to each other, and she held her arm out over his. They took three steps forward, and the music grew into a faster tempo.

“Easy enough?” Y/N asked, grabbing her phone to stop the music.

It was suspiciously simple, Bucky thought, but then again, the adults were just a small addition to the show. It’s really about the kids.

“We can make this more interesting.” He remarked.

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s try it again.” Bucky gestured to her phone.

She obliged and restarted the music.

They went through the routine again, all the way to the end at which the music began to speed up. As Y/N went to pause the music again, Bucky grabbed her arm and pulled her in. She gave a surprised gasp, but Bucky wasn’t regretful once he saw the smile on her face. He pulled himself back and began to spin her around and basked in her soft laughs. After pulling her back in again, and dancing around each other, he dipped her. She wrapped her right leg around him in response and he hoped she didn’t notice his smirk transform into a blush. 

“Alright Mr. ‘I might be a little rusty’, someone has moves!” 

Bucky helped her up once she removed her leg. 

“I used to be better,” he mumbled.

“None of that,” she softly chided, bringing his chin up, “where did that confidence just go?”

Bucky shook his head. “I’ll keep practicing, then you’ll see,” he simpered.

Time went on and not a day went by that Bucky didn’t think of you. After weeks of practice, it was finally dress rehearsal. Bucky was surprisingly calm even though they were no longer practicing in a studio, but in the local high school’s theater, in full costume. You held his hand through it—literally, for some parts—and Bucky was grateful for it.

It was Friday night, the final rehearsal before the show the next day, and Bucky was just about to drive off when he realized how cold his hand felt against the steering wheel. He cursed himself and ran back inside, luckily finding his leather gloves sitting on a chair in the wings of the stage. Right as he was about to scamper off, he noticed a figure at the very front of center stage. He recognized her immediately, and without a second thought, he approached from the darkness of the sides and into the light of the stage. She had already changed out of her ballgown and was back in black leggings.

“Hey.” He uttered, slowly taking a seat next to her at the end of the stage. He let his legs dangle over the edge.

“Hey,” she gasped, bringing a hand to her heart. “Sorry, I thought everyone had left.”

“I forgot my gloves.” 

“Seems like you have a habit of forgetting things,” she teased.

“Only when it comes to clothing, apparently.”

“Is AJ not waiting for you?”

“No, he left with a friend. He’s got a sleepover with Marshall tonight.”

“Gotcha.”

A thoughtful quiet settled over them, but Bucky couldn’t ignore the somberness in her eyes, gazing over the expanse of empty velvet seats.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”

“Shoot.”

“Why’d you stop dancing?”

She was quiet for a minute. Bucky started to think she wasn’t going to answer, but eventually, she whispered,

“I didn’t have much of a choice.”

She began mindlessly rubbing her knee.

“I tore my ACL my senior year. It was our annual production of The Nutcracker and I was cast as the Sugar Plum Fairy. There was a rumor that some influential talent scouts were going to be attending. So when my knee started hurting I ignored it. I didn’t tell anyone. I worked my ass off and pushed myself harder when I really should have been resting, but I was stupid.” She gave Bucky a short glance. “Opening night came, and so did my solo. Everything was going fine until I heard a pop. Next thing I know my leg is on fucking fire and I’m hitting the ground.

“I embarrassed myself and our entire company. My knee took longer to heal than it should have because of more poor choices I made. What should have been nine months of healing turned into years. By the time it was safe enough to start dancing again, it was too late. I was too far behind my peers. Even still I sometimes have issues with it.”

Bucky simply nodded, taking in her words.

“I tell myself I’m over it because it was so long ago. But deep down I know I’m not. I’ve asked my parents to take down all of my stupid awards, at least store them away somewhere, because it’s just some sick reminder of what I lost. Actually, the whole reason I started volunteering in the first place is because my mom told me I should. Said it could be good for me. She never said so, but I really think she was hoping that by being surrounded by ballet again, I would feel motivated to begin training again. But it’s a pipe dream.”

She took a deep breath and looked up at the ceiling.

“All I ever was was a dancer. And a good one. It was the only thing I was good at, besides sewing, but I only learned that after I injured myself. The whole town knew me as the dancer. I guess the problem with having my entire identity wrapped around one thing is that when that thing goes away…well, who are you? Who am I, if not the girl who’s going to be on the stage one day? My entire identity was ripped from me.

“I’ve just been wading through life. Time keeps moving and crashing around me, but I haven’t changed. I still don’t know who I am, besides the girl who could’ve been great. And now I’m just—stuck.”

Her eyes went wide for a second before squeezing them shut as if she had forgotten she wasn’t alone.

“God, I’m so sorry, you didn’t need to know all of that—”

“No, I—” Bucky stopped her and hesitated to rest his hand on hers. “I can empathize. I hate that you had to go through that. That you’re still going through it. I can understand not knowing who you are anymore.

“A long time ago, I used to be someone else. I used to be charming, independent… happy. But after I was drafted my identity was no longer my own. I was a fighter. I belonged to the army. And then I belonged to Hydra. And even after, I belonged to the Avengers, the world, whoever needed me to fight, I was their soldier. But I’m tired.” At those words, Bucky slumped. “I don’t want to fight anymore. But I have no fucking clue who I am if not a soldier. I’ve been trying to figure that out.”

“I can’t tell you who you are,” she whispered after a moment, “but I can tell you that whoever you are, I like you.” 

Bucky blushed.

“I like you too. It’s kind of embarrassing actually,”

“What is?”

“I didn’t really want to volunteer for this. Sam forced me. And while I love being here for AJ, I’d much rather hang out with him outside the theater where I’m not expected to be looked at on stage. But then I met this pretty costume designer…and suddenly it wasn’t so bad.”

“Pretty?” She asked, tilting her head.

“Beautiful. Absolutely gorgeous.” He specified.

“What a coincidence. I also met the most handsome and charming man recently.”

“Charming?”

“He doesn’t realize how charming he is. I guess that’s part of his charm.”

“He sounds great.” He turned to face her more directly. “Just to be clear, you are talking about me, yes?”

“Yes, you oaf.” She laughed.

Bucky pursed his lips.

“Would you be willing to let this oaf take you out on a date sometime?”

“More than willing.”

“That’s a relief,” he sighed, falling back onto the stage. “I figured it was 50/50.”

She gave him a silly grin and shook her head in amusement.

“You underestimate yourself, Bucky Barnes.”

The final performance was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be with a production of the Nutcracker with dancers ages ranging from 6 to 106. Most importantly, AJ had fun and did a fantastic job. After the show and final bows, Sarah, Sam, and Cass came rushing onto the stage to congratulate AJ (and Bucky of course. Sam made sure to tell him that he was very proud of how brave he was, and Bucky rolled his eyes. He secretly appreciated it, though.) Cass handed one bouquet to his little brother and the other to his uncle, who funny enough lit up in a similar way as his nephew at the gift. But Y/N lit up the most when Sarah handed a third bouquet to her.

“For keeping Bucky in line, and giving a beautiful performance,” Sarah clarified.

“You’re so sweet,” she beamed, pulling Sarah in for a quick hug. “I have the perfect vase for this.”

“Can we go get ice cream now?” AJ jumped. 

“Let’s get you out of your costume first,” Sam said and gave a quick wink to Bucky before herding his sister and Nephews backstage. “We’ll see you by the car Buck.”

Bucky nodded and turned his full attention to Y/N. He felt weirdly high after the performance. “Wanna join us for ice cream?” He asked, placing his hands on her waist.

“Gladly.” She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck.

I like dancing with you.

A/N: If you've made it this far, tysm for reading!!! I really hope this doesn't suck complete ass, idk what happened 😰 Im going to go hide in a hole now and question everything

If you'd like to read more, here's my Masterlist

Happy holidays!

[rrazon]

"What does my prince want?"

Will Cipher x Reader SMUT STORYYYYYY🌶🌶

Both are in a established relationship and are adults, both are shy in their on way and most important, both are in love.

🌶

Notes:

Will Cipher is in his human form.

In this AU, he was a slave of the Dipper siblings, but YN freed him and kind of ruin the plans these evil monsters executed in Gravity Falls. So in the process of this war they fall in love, and after finding some peace, Will with the love of his life, YN, have been working on a Coffee Shop of their own, while also trying to live the life they both want.

So one night Will shows an interest on a fancy restaurant that he wants to visit for a date, but Will is not human after all so he tends to suffer of heat suddenly, a nature of wanting to breed and have kids in his species✌️🖤

A hairgel.

He didn't like to use much of it, because of the stickiness.

So he came out of the bathroom, kind of bothered after fixing his hair, that was causing him problems so much now that it was already long; the length that he could no longer manage, and he had to use more gel than usual.

He entered the room, that you both shared together comfortably after all the mess that the evil siblings made him pass months ago in town, and with the bottle of gel in his hand, he stood stiffly looking at you.

Some part in his soul knew...

"But you didn't show me the dress..." He said surprised watching you get out of the dresser.

"I think it's fine, really..." You said unsure. "I have tried a lot of these today, don't worry" You motioned your hand.

He doesn't know much about girls, but not showing him the dress you were buying was weird. But maybe you were tired, both of you were, actually running a coffee shop is not that easy as everyone say.

"By the way, we have to get dinner, I know you're hungry" You said palming his chest softly and kissing him on the cheek before going to the cashier.

Know he knows... that thing you bought with a pout last week, was gonna be a madness.

Dark blue dress with sparkles clung like a glove to your waist.

Loosening slightly on your legs, almost dancing around them and caressing their softness, starting to tease that part of his brain...

Too naughty.

Making him think bad things... things that good boys don't do... Things like imagining those legs on his shoulders.

So beautiful. So pretty. So innocent, you didn't even know how good you looked on your cute rounded ass putting your heels on.

Plus, the revealing breast cut made enough effort to show off your boobies.

The ones he bitterly cried on at the end of the day when you were comforting him after someone yelled at him for messing up an order, the ones he likes to sleep on when he's tired just before dinner, the ones he likes to play mindlessly with when he's on his phone playing a one hand-game with a frown because he's losing, the ones he likes pressed on his chest hugging and kissing you after putting a bikini on... the ones he loves to suck and stick his tongue at... the ones he watches bounce when your whimpering on top of him... the ones you put around his dick while you...

"Mm... I don't know... but I think I'm done?"

You say, finishing arranging your heels in the same blue as the dress and the thin bows that reached to the calf accentuating your little feet like a fairy.

You turned in front of the mirror to see if the heels still matched the dress, checking the front... checking the back... And after twirling like a ballerina, by the face you made, he knew you weren't satisfied with the look so you got closer to the mirror.

"Haa.."

He murmured just to fill the silence. You didn't hear him and checked your eyebrows.

"My love, are you ready mmh?"

You asked softly with a puff after the effort of putting on your heels, making Will wake up from his trance remembering that he still had the bottle of gel in his hand.

"Haa..." He exclaimed surprised looking at the gel.

"Oh yeah heh..." He laughed looking at you briefly then to the dresser.

You just smiled to him and returned to the mirror.

He took a step to put the gel on the dresser, that always had more of your products than his, endearing of you...

But you moved in the corner of his eye, and he stopped his track slowly again.

You were now touching the thin chain straps on your shoulders with that precious "french" manicure ( as you liked to say) that you did yesterday.

And with your bottom lip trapped between your teeth.

You were thinking that this dress was decent enough for your so planned date, at that restaurant that Will wanted to try after seeing that many well dressed couples came to enjoy themselves quietly and sit on the roof to talk while having a drink.

"Umm..." He murmured in the same spot, trying to say something, grabbing the bottle stronger and wondering what you were thinking.

And actually, you were thinking that you had planned a more 90s style but with those little chains and the makeup you had already put on, you really didn't know if THAT was what you really wanted to wear.

But anyways... you were having a date with your beautiful boyfriend in a fancy restaurant that you were able to afford and that was enough.

So you put on your blueberry flavored lipgloss.

"What did you say baby?" You asked getting the remaining lipgloss out of your lips, and moving your hair back to its place to look at your man.

He was in awe.

"Uh..." He said with mouth almost wide open.

Then he came to his senses with a smile and rolling eyes.

"Stop giving it a thought, you look so pretty..." Smiling and shaking his head.

"Listen..." He laughed quietly.

Finally lifting his hand from the bottle, he pointed jokingly with that boyish voice you loved.

"I almost dissolve seeing you after coming through the door... And I imagine you are making a whole comparison pic with the mirror!"

"Hahaa stopp-" You wheezed.

He laughed a little with you. Then he put his hand on the bottle again, and his smile faded. A more "serious" expression on his face.

"But you look so pretty, angel..." He finished quietly.

Always shy, but he always said what his heart meant.

"Mmph.." You smiled and blushed, feeling your body warming to his beaitiful thoughts.

"Thank you..." You said with a smile and now shy but jokingly fluttering your eyelashes looking away briefly making him laugh.

Then you smiled bigger, setting your eyes on him. Now focusing.

"But what are talking about? YOU, you look so handsome" You squeaked after seeing the elegant outfit and hair style your boyfriend had prepared while you were getting dressed.

So you walk to him and changed your excited expression to a more mischievous one in a joking way.

"Who is this man?" You said taking a step.

"What is this precious angel doing in my home?" You continued looking at him with a bigger smile.

He was already smiling from the first comment, but to this, he first blushed and laughed.

"Stop, I don't," he said, rolling his eyes and smiling, then he looked down and realized that the gel was still in his hands.

"yes you are..." You say now more quietly and near him, getting to look at the way his shirt was fitted in his body too perfectly.

He hurriedly walked the short distance to the table and left the gel in its respective place.

Meanwhile, your hand started to caress his forearms.

And after forgetting about the existence of the gel.

He slowly grabbed your waist with one arm while the other reached for a cloth to remove the gel residue that the cap had left on his fingers.

"Hum, so are you readyy?" You sang, now caressing the fabric on his shoulders and raising your hands to his neck.

Stopping your fingers on his ears and chin.

Appreciating with your eyes the absolute appearance of your boyfriend.

Long eyelashes that you envied.

Lips making a small pout.

Thick eyebrows.

Marked jaw but with puffy cheeks that you always liked to kiss and hold.

Finally the hairstyle that put so much effort into it, even so, a few small rebellious hairs came out on his forehead.

"Um, yeah..." He said after putting the wet wipe somewhere on the table, while you kissed his cheek as you did every time he got ready.

He smiled. Showing his bright teeth.

The smile that he tried to hide when he first met you.

This always seemed funny to him.

But you kissed him for thay tiny detail. To watch him blush and smile.

He didn't know the reason, but he knew that part of you very well in his routine.

Whenever he finished changing his clothes or getting ready.

You would approach his hair carefully and kiss him on the cheek, even if he was far away you would take his jaw and kiss him to tell him to be careful in a joking way.

Because you said he looked so handsome.

He smelled really good.

And many girls would want to take him from you where no one knows, while he was laughing at that.

All of this you liked to say, while you caressed or hugged his shoulders and pressed your body towards his. 

"So do I look good?" He asked innocently, looking into your makeup eyes as he caressed your back with that tension of his hand and strong fingers that you like and miss when you are alone.

His eyes strayed to your lips, which he soon wanted to kiss.

"Of course" you said smiling and caressing his cheek.

"As always..." you approached him to give him a small kiss on the lips, a blueberry flavored one.

" You look THAT good" you said and both laughed softly.

"Stop too much teasing" He said playfully and gently pushing your arms away with his hands.

In fact, for him it was being so much that his member was making an appearance in his pants. And the least he wanted was to ruin them before the date.

So he separated you a little from him.

While you hadn't realized the effect you had on this man. Because you were also thinking about eating your elegantly wrapped hottie. You would give your life for him it was proved.

But the meal you had prepared for 2 weeks, and obviously you didn't want to miss the much planned dinner with you two being busy on weekdays.

"Baby..." You asked with a flashy smile. "and what time did you make the reservation?" hoping very deeply that you would have time to do something evil.

"At 7:30 pm," he said looking for the keys he had left on the nightstand after closing the cafe late the day before.

"Humm... ok" you said smiling going to look for your blue purse that already had your things inside.

While he looked at you after having picked up the car keys, fidgeting with them in his hands trying to ignore your perfectly shaped back that the dress showed so freely.

"I'm ready" you said putting the purse on your shoulder and fixing a lock of your hair.

"Then let's go, princess..." he said meeting your eyes with an excited smile, but in reality he didn't want to go out yet.

His body too hot for his own heart.

Fire igniting in his hands and eyes. His breath trying not to release a whimper.

Wanted to enjoy your outfit that you had worked so hard to look good because you were going out with him.

Your makeup although your face was already beautiful without that. Your legs that your dress rubbed mockingly at him. Your heels that in the same way mockrd him on how fast both of you were going towards the door. And finally your lips, that damn shining gloss smiling at him with lust.

You looked so pretty and he didn't want to turn back to look at you.

cuz he knows he's too weak for many things and you are on the top of that list.

You are that list.

"Oh wait." You said stopping suddenly, out of your own trance too.

You were thinking of taking his hand. Just before going out of your house and telling him with a huff innocently how you wanted him right now.

But you remembered one detail.

"I have to check the kitchen" you said running to check if everything was turned off because earlier you cooked.

One time Will let the fire on and almost burn the kitchen, because he was boiling water for a noodle soup and you got in the shower after a lazy afternoon, so he tried to follow your directions on boiling the water but too distracted on watching the tv that he forgot the stove.

But right now, there is another fire spreading in Will.

Your scent, the smell of your delicious perfume, is making his chest so heavy.

The thought of taking your dress off making his member a furnace. His breath like a dragon. And his hands so twitchy.

Will turned around, and wait for you.

You had this man on a chokehold with your abscence.

Wanting nothing more than get close to you, make you sit in his lap while you tell him how good he feels...

Thinking about clothed sex, he doesn't wanna ruin the outfits, but he knows that's not an option either.

As soon as your little steps were heard his heart accelerated.

And as you approached he gave a second look. To the way your whole existence looked in that dress.

He was decided.

He checked the watch. It was 5:30pm.

"OK baby let's go" you said softly while the perfume you put on went stronger to his nostrils, that was it.

He placed a hand on your bare shoulder gently to apply strength.

And pulled you closer to wrap his arms around you, as your soft chest and his pressed against each other.

He was never rough, he has always remained gentle, in fact, both of you have been.

But Will had difficulties controlling his heat when it always came that hard.

And the idea of making you mewl in or out of that dress was a mission for him now.

As you stood there, wrapped in his arms, he couldn't resist the urge any longer.

"Will... Do you- mph-" You tried to say caressing his chest.

But with a sudden burst of passion, he pressed his lips against yours, tasting the sweet blueberry flavor of your lip gloss again.

"My baby, I'm feeling..." His hands roamed eagerly over your body making the dress fold with every motion of him.

While he kissed you, leaving your back.

"... so hot..." tracing the curves of your waist.

".. right..." and sculpting your hips through the soft fabric of your dress.

"... now... mmph" He said opening your mouth with his, and sticking his tongue to touch your bottom lip.

As you felt his arms enveloping you, a shiver ran down your spine, igniting a fiery desire within you.

You tried to play strong, but yeah you weren't immune to Will's charming nature.

His touch, always gentle, now held a hint of urgency, a longing to possess you completely playing with your hips trying to get closer as if it was possible.

"But love..." you said separating a little.

Maybe THAT season was starting.

With your bodies pressed against each other, you could feel the heat radiating from his skin, matching the intensity of your own desire.

"Will..." you whispered his name "Baby, ..." your voice excited with need as you tilted your head back, exposing the curve of your neck to his hungry gaze. "the dinner..." His lips found the sensitive skin of your neck, trailing hot kisses along its length, leaving a trail of fire in their wake. "Mphh... my lovee"

"Princess..." he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire as he nipped and sucked at your neck, marking you as his own. "Mmph babyy..." you said melting, your hands roamed over his back, feeling the muscles tense and flex beneath your touch, driving you wild with desire.

"There's time..." He said, while his lips moved hungrily against one soft spot in your clavicle, exploring every inch as if it were the first time.

Those hotties were looking like marshmallows so soft so he palmed your breasts through the dress while his tongue was still on your body. "My love..." you said, touching his face and with hazy eyes from all the lust you felt. "My love, let's go to the bedroom" you said bringing his lips to yours.

With a swift movement, he lifted you up without separaring your sweet mouth to his, carrying you effortlessly towards the bedroom. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him closer, craving the feel of his body against yours.

"My precious princess..." He moaned, as he laid you down on the bed. "The way you look so good..." he whined. His hands began to explore every inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess. "This dress..." He laughed sweetly looking into your eyes. "You didn't want to buy it"

Both were so lost in lust. "Baby... hehee" You laughed with him and kissed him. "So, I guess you liked it"

"Mmph... more than that" He said, his cock straining in his pants. "Princess..." He said taking your fragile hand to his cock.

"What do you want baby mmph?" You said kissing and licking his cheek. He sat down and he pushed you to him. "What does my baby want mmph?" You said getting closer to him straddling his lap.

"Princess..." He felt the bedroom too hot, as he always does when you are looking at him like that.

Everything was hot, his body and yours, the air, the bed... "Please..." he said

That was it for you. You open his pants, take them off, you kissed him and trail a lot of kisses to his neck and stomach after opening his shirt, cuz you knew Will liked when you were all made up like that, because deep inside he thought pretty girls like you would never be bobbing your head like that for him but there you were doing exactly that and moaning.

"Oww angel..." Your pussy was throbbing when this man moaned that sweet. "Ah... please more" His breath shivering. Your tongue teasing and exploring every inch of his dripping cock. His moans filled the room, echoing off the walls as you almost brought him to his peak.

"Angel..." he mewl watching you through hazy eyes, the way you kept bobbing your head and moaning

"Will..." you said taking his cock out of your mouth and licking from the bottom of his dick to the top, the take it again with a reverbating moan.

"Baby..." he said through his teeth. Your mouth feels so good with the way you are on your knees and moaning for him like his some sort of a divine lollipop. "You know..." You took all his cock to the back of your throat while touching his balls "ahhmphh..."

"What?..." You said looking innocently through your lashes. "What does my prince want?" You try to articulate while you take the massive and giant lollipop your sweet boyfriend has in your pretty lips.

He almost came again.

So he pushed you off his cock slowly and sweetly, trying not to come in your pretty face, and with the left force "I almost came..." he brought you to his lips. "Baby? Mmph.... " He whined, giving you another kiss. "U taste so good mphh..." He kissed you and you both moaned. "You smell so good..." He said reaching for your hand in the most delicate way to get you closer to him and for you to sit on his lap again. "You are so good... to me..." He whined and you moaned loudly at the idea of you being too good for him after saving him from those horrible people.

"No, you are" You closed your arms behind his head bringing him impossibly closer while your mouths were dancing and biting each bottom lips.

Then he exhaled and he smiled, feeling your heat caressing his member as you got closer. "We both are..." Murmured separating himself from you to kiss your jaw, neck and clavicle.

And while you were panting, his lips trailed down your chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses along the swell of your breasts, before putting some of the fabric of the dress aside and capturing one of your nipples between his lips, sucking and teasing until you moaned with pleasure.

"Owww baby..." you said while hands tangled in his hair, urging him on as he worshipped your body with his mouth, his tongue tracing lazy circles around your sensitive flesh.

The sensation was overwhelming, sending waves of pleasure crashing over you as you arched your back, offering yourself to him.

But the dress was still on.

So he started to take it off from the bottom of your body to the top, while you positioned yourself on his lap again.

"Wait princess..." He lifted you off from the hips while you hug his shoulders obediently, so he can lay you down and take your panties.

But he always made it slow like admiring a statue or a paint, fascinated by the shape of your hips and the softness of your waist.

"Babyyy... mmph" You moaned desperately, taking his hand to your panties to take them off. He laughed and kissed you taking your hands to lift them up away from what he was doing.

"Yn we were going to eat something" He said mocking you jockingly while taking your very wet panties off of you with kisses in your stomach while you mewl.

"But I'm gonna eat u instead angel..."

With a growl of hunger, he moved lower, trailing butteeflies down your stomach and baring you to his hungry gaze. You mewl wildly as his lips found the apex of your thighs, his tongue flicking out to taste your arousal.

"Will..." you moaned his name, your voice trembling with need as he buried his face between your legs, devouring you with a hunger that left you breathless.

"My love..." You clutched at the sheets, your body writhing with pleasure as he worked his magic, his tongue slipped through your wet fold while his hands stabilized your hips to his mouth.

"Beautiful baby..." You said exposing yourself more to Will.

"I know..." He said after giving it a lick and just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as he stripped off his clothes, revealing his throbbing length.

With a groan of anticipation, he positioned himself at your entrance, his gaze locked with yours as he slowly, agonizingly, pushed inside.

"You're mine only mine..." He said taking your hips gently but possesive. Only you know how Will can be such a needy man when he looks too innocent.

The sensation was overwhelming, filling you completely as he began to move...

"Only yours..." "Oh baby..." "My Will..." "My sweet boyfriend..." You said with each thrust driving you higher and higher towards the edge of oblivion. While he prays "Yn..." "My love..." "So good... so good..."

You clung to him desperately, it was hot really hot and lost in a haze of pleasure he drove you both towards climax.

You both felt that good on each other, you felt too tight and he felt too enormous, and in the middle of everything you were making a lot of noise and juices. With a cry of a release, you shattered, your body convulsing around him as he followed you over the edge, his own release crashing over him in waves of ecstasy. He felt on you, and for a minute, together, you lay tangled in each other's arms, breathless and sated.

Then you laughed, and he turned his head to you with a smile.

"What time is it?" You asked caressing his hair now all messed up.

He laughed. "I think we can still go there..." He said giving you a kiss. "Right?"

"Yeah I think so..." You said smiling to him, but pouting after feeling the sweat on your face. "After washing ourselves..." You said panting still, now your lungs recovering from the workout

"Very quickly..." He said with a mischievous smile, grabbing his hair, throwing the little rebellious strands out of his face and panting a little recovering too.

"Yes baby" You said with a big grin.

Now you both know why the couples in that restaurant always were so touchy and smily before entering.

[spoonfulofmilo]

Could you do fic for Peter 'Bono' Bonnington with wife reader? Bono was on the way to meet his wife and kid(s) and was stopped by Nico Rosberg. Nico's like an excited child trying to make a convo with him. And his family just laughed while watching Nico fumbling over his worlds in front of Bono. Nico then spotted them and decided to ask them a few questions. Just something fluff and sweet. Add something if you want to. You decide how it ended. Thanks!! :)))

look at me, still getting fics out

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peter bonnington x wife!reader

Bono was excited for this weekend. His wife had brought their 3 year old twins to their first race and so he was speeding through his meetings and the paddock to find his family.

And was he a little in his head?

Yeah

Did that mean he really had to bump into Nico Rosberg?

Apparently, yeah.

“Oh, hey Bono, um, wonderful to see you the paddock, I mean, you are always in the paddock, but y’know, obviously nice to see you…” Nico was floundering, panicking. He’d obviously seen Bono when he was in the Mercedes paddock, but that was before he had become the force he was today.

“Yeah Nico, lovely to see you too, is there anything you need?” Bono was a little annoyed, he just wanted to find his wife and kids, but he was happy to indulge Nico for a second as he tried to find them.

Y/N was barely 5 metres away, having enjoyed a nice coffee and some lunch with the kids. She felt like a spy sitting there with her sunglasses watching as Nico fumbled for his words, blushing and panicking, as her husband tried to look for a way to find his family, or at least a way out of this conversation. She smiled, before picking up her bag, and pointing out to her children their father, as they sprinted through people’s legs to get there.

“Dad! Dad!”

Bono turned around with a huge smile on his face, as he spotted his kids, opening up his arms, as they hugged him, picking them up.

He almost forgot about Nico as he let teh kids talk about how cool he looked and what they’d done at school that week.

Almost.

As he put the kids down, and placed a soft kiss on his wife’s lips, he noticed Nico crouching down and talking to his kids.

“Hello, what are your names?” Nico asked while crouching down to the 3 year olds level.

“I’m Clara and that’s Carl.” The girl, Clara, seemed a lot more confident that the boy, her brother, Carl, who almost was hiding behind his sister.

“It’s lovely to meet you both, I’m Nico, I’m friends with your dad. Are you gonna follow in his footsteps and be racing drivers? Or follow mum’s footsteps and be ballerinas?” Nico asked

“Oh god, Nico. The endless debate in our household. Clara wants to get into karts, but Pete is against it. And Carl wants to get into ballet and I’m against it. So…” Y/N laughed as she hugged Nico as he stood up. “Lovely to see you though.”

“Lovely to see you as well, come around for a dinner some time, Viv would love to see you.” Nico smiled before crouching down to the kids level “and Clara, if you ever need a kart, and your dad won’t let you, call me, and I’l buy you one, okay?”

“Nico stop corrupting my kids.” Bono laughed, before starting to usher the family back to hospitality. 

“I would never.” Nico feigned shock, before waving goodbye and returning to Sky.

“Now, c’mon, I’m hungry, let’s go get lunch!”

---

taglist: @leosxrealm, @tallrock35, @wolf-knights, @janeholt3, @pear-1206

[purple-crusader]

SOOO IT'S TIME!!! Stephcass Week is here!! I'm both excited and scared since this is the first time I'm posting my writing online and idk how people may respond.

There was no beta reader and English is not my first language, so you may correct me if you notice anything wrong. I'm gonna focus on one prompt per day, because writing all fourteen would be too much.

Anyway I hope you enjoy 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

STEPHCASS WEEK Day 1: Sparring

Word count: 1,014

@stephcassweek

Stephanie looked at her in complete awe sometimes. All her moves seemed both perfectly calculated and graceful, like a ballerina's (she should definitely try that some day). She knew exactly when to expect the enemy to punch, so she could dodge it. She was the one leading in a fight, proloning it sometimes so that it looked like a dance or just a play between her and the opponent. Ever since she joined the family, she begun to shape the way she fought into something embedded with grace. She didn't want to take down enemies from the get-go, hit them in their weakest spots, even if she could perfectly locate them. That's what she was trained for in her childhood by her father, to be a weapon of death. But she turned out to be much more, a true person and her fighting style could also be a vessel to show that.

There was something soothing and stimulating for Steph in the way Cassandra fought. To an extent that at times she would just look at her during trainings with other members of the family. She trained most with Dick, wiping the floor with him by the end of their 'dance', but that never really discouraged him. She trained with the blonde's boyfriend Tim sometimes, especially now, since his father made him give up the Robin mantle. It didn't stop him from coming down to the Bat-Cave and developing his fighting skills through Cass, if he couldn't do it on the rooftops. She saw her fight with Batman once, she almost thought he would win, but it was all part of Cass' plan.

She didn't ever volunteer to fight with her herself though. If anyone asked her why, she would say that she's just not as good. You might say that no one was on Cass' level, but her brothers at least trained for years, while she was just starting her Bat-training, so she stood out. Subconsciously though, Steph felt... overwhelmed? She couldn't quite put a finger on it. Cass was just amazing at everything. She was a great fighter, had a beautiful body, a fast lerner, incredibly resilient. Steph would get clumsy around her sometimes, not really sure what to say. Or she would stare at her during her training like at the moment...

Steph was taken out of her numb state, as Cass put Tim down on the mat and then looked at her and waved. A little blush got onto the girl's face, hoping the other one didn't notice how long she was observing her (she totally did), but she waved back. In response Cass did the hand move indicating she wanted the other woman to join her on the mat.

"W-what? Me? Pfft, oh- come on, Cassie! What am I gonna do to you?" Steph started, "Just look at what you did to Boyfriend Wonder, I'm gonna end up a puddle." She let out a forced laugh. "'m totally fine..." Tim muttered from his splattered position on the ground.

"I'll be gentle." Cass signed. She was learning to speak quite fast for a seventeen year old who was never taught that, but she preffered that form of communication sometimes. "Well shit." Steph thought to herself. "You only die once." She went to the mat, as Tim managed to get himself off it. She tried to take on some kung-fu fighting stance, that she would see in those Bruce Lee movies that she liked to copy so much, but she got kinda wobbly and it turned out awkward. Cass chuckled happily at that.

"I lead or do you?" Cass said it vocally this time. "I do?" Steph said unconvinced and the other girl nodded. The blonde decided to start with a simple punch to get things in motion, that Cass unsurprisingly dodged. Steph moved quickly to not lose her from sight, which went surprisingly well. Maybe she really was going easy on her. She tried to reach her with another punch, then a kick, a low kick, but Batgirl dodged them all. Finally the dark-haired woman caught Steph's fist and then moved her hand to the blonde's wrist. It caught the girl off guard and before she saw it, Cass pulled her closer trying to catch her. She couldn't let that happen.

The women begun moving around each other, throwing punches, dodging them, parring, pulling closer. Steph was too focused on the thing to notice Cass started the whole "dance with her enemy" thing with her. They moved graciously and in sync, as if they done that a thousand times before.

Eventually Cass must've lost herself in the little game she orchestrated, as Steph pulled a move that Tim taught her, that would put Cass to the ground. The girl took the control back from her blonde opponent and she ended up laying on top of her after their ill-considered crash on the mat.

"You OK?" Cass asked her opponent with some worry in her voice, when she saw Steph was laying completely still. Meanwhile in Steph's head a hundred different emotions were mixing at the same time, which resulted in a feeling as if a ton of butterflies scattered around her body. When she realized she was like that a good few seconds she pulled herself from the floor as fast as possible.

"I'M FINE! I'm great! Wow! Oh my God. It was amazing! We're so good at this! We must do that more often, huh." Steph was shooting words at a speed which has been a bit too fast for Cassandra, but she was glad her colleague was alright. She gently smiled at her and the butterflies came back to Steph's body.

"Welll... I'm gonna just... Go find Tim maybe... Or shower. Or shower with Tim- or no, not shower with Tim- anyway I need to go, catch you later!" And Steph left her sparring partner in the training hall. As she was walking through the corridor she calmed herself down and got her mind working properly again. One thought was left in her head.

What just happened?

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Yet again I hope you enjoyed it and see you in the next days!!

[slut-taylorsversionnn]

hey! Thank you so much for the last fic! I loved it so much!!! I’m sorry to ask for another one so soon, but today is my birthday, and I was wondering if I could get one of Tom celebrating readers birthday? If not that’s totally cool. Thank you so much!!!

happy birthday! i have been so busy so i haven’t written anything in a little while but here you go, hope you enjoy!

summary: y/n’s birthday and tom planned a surprise…

i woke up feeling so excited, it was my birthday and tom had been acting a little suspicious lately. i was hoping he planned an elaborate surprise but whatever the day held i knew it would be great because i would be spending it with my boyfriend tom freaking blyth!

i got out of bed once i noticed tom must’ve already woken up. i walked into the kitchen and tom was on the phone with someone.

“hold on i gotta go.” tom said quickly.

weird i thought. “who was that?”

“oh it was just a work call but i said i had to go because it’s my favorite person’s birthday!” he said as he walked towards me. he snaked his arms around my waist and pulled me into a kiss.

“so i was thinking we could go to that cafe you love for breakfast and then do some shopping and you could pick something out to wear because i have a little something planned for tonight.” tom explained.

“first of all, love the cafe idea and would love to go shopping with you. but how am i supposed to pick something out to wear for your little surprise if i have no idea what’s going on??” i replied.

“well darling that’s why i’m going along to make sure you pick the perfect thing. trust me i’ve got you.” he smiled and winked.

“ok then, i’m gonna start getting ready.”

“ohh i just thought of something…” tom said.

“what..?” i was so confused.

“we should do an instagram live and get ready together! it’ll be so fun for your birthday.” tom suggested.

“ooh wait yeah that sounds fun. and the fans will eat that up.” i laughed.

“so it’s y/n’s birthday and we’re getting ready to get brunch and shop for a dress for her to wear to my special surprise tonight.” tom was telling everyone on live.

“woah there’s already 80k watching you just started that live.” i said walking into frame. i had just gotten dressed and put on a little lilac sun dress that i absolutely adored and was saving for today.

“you look so stunning right now love.” tom commented and seemingly forgot we were even on live as he pulled me in by the waist and kissed me. he pulled away when he remembered we had an audience. i blushed and then looked at all the comments rolling in.

user: tom and y/n are so couple goals

user: tom forgot about the whole rest of world when y/n walked in

rachelzegler: happy birthday to my fav!!!!

hunterschafer: happy birthday bestie!!!!

“aww thanks rachel and hunter” i loved my friends so much.

i finished getting ready and then me and tom started walking to my favorite little cafe. i ordered my usual coffee order and tom got his oat milk latte as always. then we walked to the first of many shops.

“so what am i even looking for?” i asked

tom started picking out fancy dresses that he wanted me to try on, “something like this.”

“so it’s a fancy surprise you have planned then mr blyth..” i said wiggling my eyebrows.

“i could tell you but then i’d have to kill you.” he smirked.

so once tom had picked about 200 dresses for me to try on we headed to the dressing room.

i came out wearing a pink dress with lots of ruffles, “i feel like im wearing what would happen if a cupcake and a ballerina had a baby.”

tom started cackling, “yeah that’s not the look i was going for.”

next dress was definitely giving tigris vibes but definitely not something i could pull off, “umm am i about to attend a panem fashion show?”

“i think effie would be proud,” tom replied still grinning.

30 dresses later i slipped on the most beautiful magenta silk dress that fell to the floor with a slit coming about thigh length. it was soo gorgeous. i stepped out of the fitting room and let me tell you tom’s jaw DROPPED.

“y/n…wow just wow.” he was stunned.

i felt the blush creeping onto my face. “all these years of dating you blyth and i can still make you speechless.”

“well when you look like that, it’s not hard to make me speechless. i can’t believe it you’re so beautiful. we definitely have a winner.” he gushed.

“i think we definitely have a winner too.”

so after shopping we stopped to grab some pizza for lunch and then we headed back home to get ready for tom’s big surprise. i hadn’t really heard from rachel or hunter today and they’re never quiet so i was definitely feeling suspicious. i did my makeup, curled my hair, put on my dress and gold sparkly heels. i was looking at myself in the mirror and saw tom coming up to give me a hug from behind. he was in a suit with a matching magenta tie.

“what’s going on in that head of yours love?” tom asked.

“just thinking that dang you are so hot,” i laughed and leaned to kiss him. “i love you so much tom.”

“i love you so much y/n. let’s go get you to your special night.”

tom insisted i rode to our destination with a blindfold on so it wouldn’t ruin the surprise. i felt the car start to park and tom came around to my side of the car and opened my door. he took my hand and led me towards wherever we were going. i felt us walk into a building and then tom led me into an elevator.

“are you sure you’re not kidnapping me right now?” i asked.

“no promises,” tom laughed and then i felt a little bit of a breeze stepping out of the elevator. tom untied my blindfold and-

“SURPRISE!” i opened my eyes and i was standing on a rooftop overlooking the rest of new york and standing in front of me was all of my friends. it was so beautiful.

“oh my gosh!” i said covering my mouth, “i can’t believe it this is so wonderful you all!”

rachel and hunter ran up to me, “y/n you look drop dead gorgeous right now.” hunter exclaimed.

“that dress was made for you!” rachel commented.

“aww guys i can’t believe you all pulled this off! i was getting a little suspicious but i didn’t dream of this,” i said looking around. the rooftop was decorated in tons of flowers and with the sun setting it was so perfect.

“i can’t believe tom was able to keep a secret from you, i thought for sure he would tell.” hunter said.

“wow i love the faith you all have in me. but yes it was hard to keep this a secret but im glad it paid off.” tom said giving me a side hug.

the night was filled with dancing and love and music. rachel even convinced everyone to do karaoke and tom sang one of my favorite one direction songs “steal my girl” for me and i dedicated “london boy” to him. we even sang “you and i” by one direction as a duet which is another one of my favorites. by far the best birthday ever!

author’s note: hope you all enjoyed, i really liked writing this one! i’m going to keep responding to requests so don’t worry, im just not the fastest writer. but also stay on the lookout for the tom blyth series im about to start.