#after this intermission asks will open again!

[ask-looks-to-the-moon]

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Moon talks with her current administrator!

[shouyuus]

─── Ⅵ FIGURE EIGHTS

violet; 28,888 words; fluff and smut (at the end), semi enemies to lovers, fake dating, hockey!vi x figure skater!reader, ice dancers!meljayce, miscommunication, smau-intermissions, toxic ex!cait, simpgirl!vi, slowburn, the gays r bad at feelings, lots of making out that almost leads to something, emotional edging (for YOU lol), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, oral (r!receiving), slightly unhinged!reader, no "y/n"

summary: a hockey player and a figure skater kind of, sort of, not really, but then actually fall in love. what could possibly go wrong? (narrator: apparently, everything.)

a/n: YALL. yall. YOU. ALL. lmfao. i can't believe i finished this (i say, after writing any fic longer than 5k words). but i TRULY doubted for a second that i would bc as i kept writing, it kept... getting longer? i hope that this doesn't drag, and that you guys like it. it's really a fucking labor of love. like heavy emphasis on the labor. shoutout to @vifilms for being my emotional support, and to my irl bf for actually physically reading through like 90% of this fic out LOUD with me to make sure the dialogue doesn't sound awk. BUT ANYWAYS. pls enjoy and PLS tell me what u guys think!!!! the smau fake texts won't start till chapter three, but ! it's my first time making like.. fake texts so sldkfjsd.

TABLE OF CONTENTS ━

prologue: party people

chapter one: shut up and kiss me

chapter two: fists to a knife fight

chapter three: love's dream

chapter four: for cup's sake

chapter five: don't hate the player (suggestive)

chapter six: six (nsfw)

─── TAG YOU'RE IT .ᐟ.ᐟ

pls comment below if you'd like to be tagged for this series! :) if you're already on my vi-taglist via my normal taglist link, then you're all good. if you only wanna be tagged for this series, comment below! pls pls have your age visible somewhere on your blog as this will be an 18+ fic!!!! thank you!!!

prologue: party people

─── Ⅵ IT STARTS WITH A GAME of spin the bottle — a college party post-game, the home team the exhalant victors, the crowds of adoring fans the worshippers at their beer-tower altars, doing keg stands and shot-gunning cans of cheap bud lite for an approving grin or a wink.

“Remind me why we’re here again?” you ask, jerking back as a drunken guy nearly topples into you, the red solo cup in his hand sloshing over onto the already sticky linoleum floor.

Mel sighs, “Because, darling, you promised me that you’d come out at least once if me and Jayce made it through the Challenger Series this year.”

She tugs you behind her, weaving through the crush of bodies till the cramped living room area opens onto a much larger patio, the mid-autumn chill cooling your skin.

“It was a joke,” you say, whining slightly even as Mel grabs what looks like an unopened hard cider from the table and presses it into your hand.

“Yes, and one that hurt my feelings,” Mel sniffs, turning her nose up, though a grin teases at her lips, “so to make up for it, you now have to stay at this party and have some semblance of a good time.”

And that was three and a half drinks ago, because sometime between then and now, you’ve found yourself pulled into an unwitting game of spin the bottle with what seems like half the entire hockey team, sitting next to Mel, her boyfriend Jayce on your other side, chatting animatedly with one of the girls hockey girls. You overhear the words “creatin” and “Bulgarian Squat” and decided that it’s time for you to tune out of the conversation.

“Vi, it’s your turn!”

Vi, your thoughts linger over the sound.

It’s a pretty name.

You glance up at the girl sitting across from you, Number Six — you’ve always known her as that, what with the tattoo on her cheek (there were rumors that it’s actually not real and she just reapplies one of those temporary tattoos every two weeks) and the fact that it’s her jersey number, it’s really not too hard to remember.

“Yeah, yeah,” she says, laughing as she reaches for the empty beer bottle in the middle of the circle. Her right hand’s bandaged up and you can’t help staring at it. When you look up next, it’s to catch her watching you, your eyes meeting in a startling clash of raw contact — the cacophonous noise of the party dulling out to a thin whine somewhere at the back of your head as you stare at her and she stares right back.

You’d never noticed that her eyes, even in the dark, beneath the dim, flickering patio lights, reads mourning-dove blue, so subtle it’s almost gray, so sharp as she takes you in that your stomach drops from inside you. She smirks and twists her fingers expertly around the bottle, setting it whizzing.

You tear your eyes away, your breath sent astray in your chest by just that look alone. You frown at the spinning bottle, your mind abuzz with fragmentary thoughts you can’t quite string along for long enough to form a full sentence — eyes… her lips are pretty… wasn’t she dating… someone? who??? what’s her name again? something pretty —

“— right, ice princess, you ready?”

“Huh?” you jerk your eyes up from the bottle to find everyone watching you. From your left, Mel nudges you with a sanctimonious grin, her eyes flickering down to the bottle and back up towards —

“Go on!” she hisses, even as you blink uncomprehendingly down at the bottle pointing right at you.

Across the circle, Vi’s questioning smirk is all the answer you need as your alcohol-addled brain finally puts together the pieces.

“R-right…” you push up onto your knees, but something holds you back, a niggling feeling in the back of your brain as Vi’s smirk grows wide and she jerks her head towards the living room.

“Want a bit of privacy? Or… would you prefer an audience?”

Half the circle wolf-whistles at the insinuation, the other half roll their eyes, leaning back on their elbows as if to settle in for a long night.

You lick your lips, feeling your mouth scald dry.

“Privacy. Please.”

You follow Vi stiffly from the patio back into the stuffy house, her fingers closing around your wrist as she tugs you behind her through a long hallway splitting off from the main living room, branching into a series of what look like bedrooms. Half the doors are closed, illicit sounds echoing out from behind them, but Vi finds an empty one near the end of the hallway and pushes it open, leading you inside.

“Oh wow,” you say, looking around the room. It’s a typical fratboy’s room, full of suggestive posters, the floor littered with questionably laundered clothes.

“What, not your ideal setting for a makeout-sesh with a stranger?”

You frown as your eyes slingshot back to Vi, her standing feet from you, hands tucked loosely into her pockets, watching you with dark, firefly eyes.

“Thought we were just supposed to kiss once.”

Vi chuckles, closing the distance between you in a few quick strides, crowding you up against the closed door.

“Sure. We can do that. Or…” she makes no effort to hide the way her eyes flicker down to your lips, trailing back up in a line of fire that sizzles against your skin. “I could show you what a real good time looks like.”

Your breath crystalizes in your chest, and the strange, tickling feeling traces down the back of your head till it gathers, hot and unconscionable at the nape of your neck — a spin-click wheel of half-formed thoughts and images ticking by behind your eyelids as you try to remember why the hell this feels so wrong.

And then, it clicks, and you press a hand to Vi’s chest just as she’s leaning down to graze her lips against yours, the friction so delicious you almost lose your train of thought.

“A-are you sure this is a good idea? Didn’t you just break up with that track and field girl? Caitlyn?” you blurt out, a culmination of all the snippets of whispered conversations and half-caught glances of the pair of them across campus. The It-Girl Couple, people called them, the hockey team star and the track and field genius. They were hard to miss, and even harder to forget.

A moth-wing-flicker of emotions crosses Vi’s face as she takes half a step back, her expression morphing into one of shock, and then hurt, and finally, hard-lined disgust as she looks down at you with a thin-lipped grimace.

“Oh fuck you.”

She yanks you from the door, storming out without a backwards glance. You catch yourself against the half-made bed, your breath coming in heaving pants as your head spins. Guilt curdles in the bed of your stomach like spoilt milk, and it only takes you half a second to realize that of all the things to say, that probably was the worst possible choice.

You’d heard mention of the breakup, even if you didn’t have any stakes in this so-called game. It was harsh and messy and loud, and it had spilled across campus like a backed-up toilet, oozing foulness and stank across the grounds till not a single person was left unstained in the aftermath.

“Wait —” you stumble after Vi, but it’s too late. By the time you reach the patio doors, she’s already settling back into her place in the circle, an easy grin slung across her lips.

You swallow, pushing through the door to scurry over to Mel’s side. Mel beams at the flush in your cheeks, convinced (just like the rest of the circle) that it’d been one hell of a kiss, judging by how entirely breathless you are.

“Damn Vi, you gotta learn how to go easy on them figure skaters, hm?” Margot smirks, her eyes glittering as she looks you over, “look at the poor darling — she can barely breathe!”

Everyone laughs, and Vi flashes a convincingly satisfied smirk, shrugging up a shoulder. You glance at her, only to shiver at the arctic ice behind her gaze as your eyes catch once more.

“What can I say? Easy isn’t a setting I come programmed with.”

You duck your head as Vi casts you one more frigid look before turning to laugh at something a teammate has just said, and the circle devolves into good-natured banter and pocket conversations. You gulp around your too-dry throat and pluck Mel’s drink from her hand, tossing the rest of it back in a single gulp. She blinks at you, eyes wide.

“Darling, are you —”

“I — I’m fine just — it’s — I think I’m gonna head back.”

Mel frowns, “Are you sure? I mean —” she looks towards where Vi’s been pulled into an impromptu arm-wrestling match with some dude from the football team, “you could try and —”

You shake your head, “No, I — I think I’m good. I had a good time, I just —” you run a hand through your hair, “I’ve got practice tomorrow and Amara’s gonna murder me if I get there late.”

Mel stares for a second before relenting, a soft sigh on her lips.

“Alright, alright — go on then. I’ll… I’ll see you tomorrow at practice, yes?”

You give her a tight-lipped smile, reaching out for a quick hug before ducking out of the party, skirting the edges of the growing mosh pit forming in the living room till you finally find yourself out on the front steps again.

You close your eyes for a second, pressing your back to the frat house door, feeling the dull thump of the music inside reverberating through the thin wooden frame as you breathe in and out.

You can still taste the heat of Vi’s breath on your lips, feel harsh sting of ice as she’d caught your eyes after. The chill air, once refreshing, pebbles your skin and an involuntary shiver shakes down your spine. You wrap your arms around yourself and give your head a good shake.

Whatever, you think, stepping off the porch, casting your eyes up at the star-strewn sky, a whisp of warm breath fogging up the air before you.

Not like it’ll matter. Bet she won’t even remember me after tonight.

taglist: @traiitorjoe @rizzscary @wetcat020 @alex-thegiraffeboyy @nanasemo @saturnhas82moons @unear7hly @drsnowrose @grantaires-waistcoat @isab3lita @ally-all-around @starrysetup22 @lipsent @lewd_alien @jack-frost-2010 @starsfortaylor @onesockcat @lesbian-useless @armins-slvt

[toonice113]

The jacket pt.2 ⋆ ★ L.Hughes

❗️requested - part one

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: Based on this request: i was wondering if you’re open to do a pt.2 with gf’s reaction to his injury in the 3rd (around ~10:55) and maybe a post game where he’s just happy to see her in the jacket and she’s stressed bc he’s injured

Warnings: mentions of his injury but he’s okay

Word count: 608

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ what a fucked up day, the devils lost and im pretty sure my laptop is dying so i had to write this on my phone. have this part 2 of the jacket to hopefully make it a bit better.

Your heart almost stopped when you saw Luke laying in the net and the 10 seconds it took for him to get up felt more like 10 minutes. Today was supposed to be fun, and it had been, after the jackets you’d all eaten lunch and during the first intermission the kids had done an easter egg hunt, but all that seemed so far away now.

From your left Aly places her hand in your shoulder taking you out of your trance just as Luke gets up and skates away holding his shoulder in pain, the same shoulder he’d told you about that had been injured last year. You turn to look at her and one look is all it takes for her to understand, taking her son who was napping in your arms from you as you stand up with your phone in hand walking towards the house.

You check for updates that don’t come through for a while, texting him to let you know how he’s doing as soon as he gets a chance to and hoping that the lack of communication meant he was alright.

“Hey, he’s okay, he’s back on the ice” one of the girls tells you from the backyard doors and you feel like you can breathe again, locking your phone and rejoining the rest.

You’re back home when the call comes through, your phone ringing only once before you pick it up.

“Hi baby” His voice sounds tired, definitely not happy with the result of the game

“Oh god hi” You say “How are you?”

“Well that wasn’t how I wanted the game to go but hey what can you do? Seeing you in that jacket with my name on it sure does make today a bit better though” You can hear his smile through his words

“Yeah we’re definitely going to have a few words about that post later, but I don’t really care a lot about that right now, how’s your shoulder?” You ask worried that he went back to play while being injured

“Listen you just looked too good not to share, can’t wait to see it in person” He ignores your question about his shoulder

“Are you trying to distract me from the fact that you left the game clutching your shoulder in pain? Because it’s really not working baby” You tell him

“Maybe the good luck only works if you’re in the arena, hey wanna fly to Raleigh?” He jokes and that’s when you start getting concerned again

“Luke stop deflecting” Your tone is more stern this time and that’s when he realizes you’re actually worried about him and it’s time to stop joking around

“Baby I promise you I’m okay” He sighs “Shoulder’s good, just a bad hit, the doctors checked it and said I was okay to go back out there” You sigh too, relief flooding at his genuine tone “Will probably have to ice it today and tomorrow but I should be okay”

“Okay” You say “I’m glad you’re okay, got me worried for a minute there when you didn’t get back up”

“I’m all good” Your phone beeps, a facetime request “Now, how about you show me some outfits with your new jacket”

You accept the request, his face, with a big smile, covering your screen “Oh yeah, now that you’ve reminded me” His smile falls “What the hell were you thinking posting that picture”

But you’re not mad, and he knows you’re not mad, so after a playful scolding your phone is set in your dresser as you show Luke some outfits you were thinking of wearing for the home games.

[captain-bubble-wrap]

I love your writing and have a request

14.. "What are you doing here? It's so late."

Something about Quinn getting hurt at a game and reader comes over afterwards to see how he is doing without telling him she would come. Because she’s worried about him. Something cute and heartwarming:)

You're so sweet, babe. Again, I hope this is to your standards. 🩷

CW | blood and injury descriptions, mild adult content

The hit had been severe. 

The amount of blood that dotted the ice looked like scarlet paint across a virgin canvas. You had wanted to go to that game, but a migraine had kept you at home in bed for most of the day. Watching the high-sticking on TV had been just as hard to handle as you could imagine seeing it in person would have been. The replay made you gasp each time you were forced to rewatch it, and seeing Quinn laid out on the ice like he was made your stomach tighten. 

He looked so little while the cameras captured him trying to realize what had happened in real-time. The way the blood dripped from his mouth and covered his bare fingertips was frightening. Finally, he got to his feet and held the hem of his jersey to his mouth as he skated off the ice and disappeared down the tunnel. It had happened so fast. 

Your heart raced the entire time he was gone, mind wondering what he was feeling. You had no memory of the first period or what had happened after the hit until Quinn returned wearing the bubble. It was hard to see how bad everything really was through the face shield, but it was obvious he had a series of stitches. The first goal --his goal-- was textbook Quinn, and it was stunning. However, it wouldn't be enough.

You had fallen asleep after the second intermission, still exhausted after fighting such a terrible headache all day. There were a series of messages from Quinn when you'd awake, and it would be late by the time you saw them.

Quinn: I'm okay, babe. In case you saw what happened. No need to worry, okay? (10:42pm)

Quinn: I love you. Hope you're alright. I haven't heard from you much today. (10:58pm)

Quinn: Maybe you fell asleep. If so, good night. I love you. I'll talk to you in the morning. (11:07pm) 

It made you feel terrible, like you had ignored him when he was dealing with so much. You wouldn't text him. Instead, you'd throw on some sneakers and your coat and leave your house in a hurry, wearing your pajamas. How could you have fallen asleep? This was one of the worst injuries you'd see him inflicted with and you felt like you had completely disregarded him. It would be a quarter to midnight before you arrived at his apartment door. 

Hoping he'd hear your knocking, you had to keep it fairly quiet so to not scare him or wake the other neighbors on the floor. 

"Come on, Quinny. Please don't be asleep yet," you whispered under your breath. 

After a few more raps on the door, you'd hear the lock flip on the other side. When Quinn opened the door, the sight of his face shocked you. His upper lip was swollen and faint bruising could be seen beneath his facial hair. 

"What are you doing here? It's so late?" He asked, though talking seemed to be difficult for him. His words came off as rude, but you hoped it was just because he hadn't expected you. 

"I'm sorry, honey! I was asleep when your messages came in. I've had a migraine all day, and it's screwed everything up. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"You didn't have to do that. It's too late for you to be driving, especially if you have a migraine, but it's alright, come in." He opened the door wider, letting you slip past him into the apartment. "How are you feeling?"

Removing your coat, you turned back towards him, "I was about to ask you the same thing. I saw the game, well, some of it." 

Quinn sighed, running a hand through his freshly-washed hair, "I've been better."

"Am I...bothering you?" You asked, unsure of how to read his mood at the moment, but getting cues that he wasn't happy for the company. 

His expression changed slightly, "Sorry, no, you're fine. I'm tired, my face hurts, and I'm just-- down."

Without another word, you walked the few steps back to him and embraced him in a loving hug. Quinn melted into your arms almost instantly, the weight of all of his troubles being dropped on you, but you didn't mind. He stayed so strong through much more than any person should have to carry. 

"Can I do anything for you?" You asked, your head laying against his as you both stayed standing by the door. 

"This..for just a little longer?"

Smiling, you would oblige his request until he finally decided to break it. Quinn's hugs were the best: they were tight, warm, and always left you wanting them to never end. 

"You're staying the night, aren't you?" He asked, still staying close to you.

"If you want me to," you said, holding his injured face between your hands. 

"Always."

"Okay, baby, to bed then." You placed a kiss to his cheek, careful to avoid his swollen upper lip. It looked so painful; your heart ached for him. Quinn was the sweetest guy, so humble, and a clean player on the ice. You found it unfair that such things happened to him, but you'd remind yourself that that was just the nature of the sport. This had been an accident --you guessed-- still it pissed you off that it had been so bad. 

"Are you off tomorrow?" He mumbled as the two of you got into the bedroom. The light was off, but you had been there plenty of enough times to get around without it. 

"Yeah," you answered, crawling into the bed before Quinn. "Why?"

"I just wanted to know if you could sleep in with me." His voice sounded so small, likely a product of the constant conversation aggravating the injury. 

"Always," you replied like he had moments ago. Laying on your back, you'd wait for him to find you in the bed. Whenever he was down, it was a given that he would want some gentle cuddles to help him get to sleep, and tonight it was proving no different. 

"I'm not too much, am I?" He asked, his hand slipping beneath your shirt. 

"You could never be too much, Quinn." 

He wanted to smile, but he would restrain himself. Being right up against you, he'd give hints that you were right where he wanted you to be. His fingers would dance slowly over your skin, his thumb rolling over your right nipple so softly. You'd bite your lip in response to the sensation as your fingers got lost in his hair. Quinn was very skilled with his hands, but this wasn't one of those moments; he just wanted you to know he loved you, that he appreciated you. How dare he be injured, or this evening could have gone a very different direction. 

"Good night, babe," he whispered, hand finally coming to rest against your ribcage. "I love you. Thanks for coming over."

"I love you, Quinn. Sleep well."

"I always sleep well with you beside me."

[starboye]

starring: simon riley x male reader

request: Lt Simon Riley absolutely railing you in his private room while you have to stay silent so you don’t get caught his boxers in your mouth eyes rolled back maybe full Nelson, possibly some one knocks/calls - spit kink, degradation praise, almost caught, gagged, sloppy? If not it’s okay

warnings: smut, spit kink, face slapping, rough sex, slight degradation, gagged, unprotected sex, oral sex, deep throating, cursing, cum eating

directors note: quick intermission, its not that i wont write full nelson sex position it's just that idrk how to

when your lieutenant called you to his room you expected to get berated for your pretty bad performance during training today but this was far from that "you like that dick huh" simon taunted you, watching your eyes roll back with each of his thrusts into you, fucking despicable noises out of you.

"m-mhmmm i fuckin' love it" you babbled under him with your legs dangling on both his sides while his hips snapped into your ass, fingers digging into your hips "if you wanted me to fuck you ya could've jus' asked, goin' around bending over and acting all slutty in front of everyone" he teased you some more, one hand trailing up your body to grab your chin and angle your face towards him.

"open" he demanded and you obeyed opening your mouth for him before he spat into it, slipping his fingers into your mouth and all the way down your throat, watching you effortlessly take his fingers all the way down to the knuckles making him smirk a little before pulling them back out and giving you a little slap.

you reveled in the feeling of simon using you for his enjoyment, your moans getting louder and louder to the point of someone could maybe hear you "if you don't get quiet i might have to make you" simon sternly says "please do sir" you whimper out, biting your bottom lip as you rocked your ass onto him, wanting more and more of his thick cock to be inside you "such a dirty slut huh all you want is me to fuck you right" he says before grabbing his underwear and shoving them into your mouth to keep you quiet.

he grabs you thighs and bring them up to your chest, pressing them right on to your before angling himself just right and fucking into you roughly, constantly hitting just the right spot and making you moan out so good it felt like you could see god, right then you both heard a knock at the door making both your sounds stop and heads to snap towards the door.

"simon open the door" you hear captain price say outside the door knocking again but simon just stands there thinking how he could get out of this before you see his eyes widen with an idea, picking you up and putting you behind the door and taking his underwear out of your mouth "make yourself useful while i handle this m'kay" he says pushing your mouth down on his cock and opening the door to see an agitated price.

"yes captain" he greets holding back groans from your mouth working his hard on "why are you shirtless" price asks "uh just got out the shower" simon quickly lies, trying not to raise any suspicion from price "well i just wanna say you have to stop flirting with that one recruit, you know it's not allowed and plus it shows favoritism to the others" price scolds simon, good thing he couldn't see how you were going to town on simons cock behind the door.

"yes sir i'll be sure to do that" simon tries to close the door but price stops it with his foot "you better simon" he says before letting the door close and walking away, simon letting out satisfied groans as he feels himself cum down your throat "fuckin' hell" he lets out after emptying every drop into your mouth and watching you swallow it like a good boy.

"now do you really want me to stop seeing you, i mean you did hear what the captain said, i cant show favoritism" simon asks wiping the cum from your face and watching you lick it off his finger "well he doesn't have to know now does he" you say standing up to kiss him "no he doesn't"

taglist:@mailmango @spermeboy @ghostking4m @gayaristocrat @addictedtomalepits @staarb0y @crispysoup318 @its-ares @gargoylesworld09 @znerac

[residentrookie]

duty calls!

***a hockey jegulus microfic, 1k words (cw: blood, broken nose resetting)***

as soon as regulus hears the crack, he knows what he has to do.

the opponent’s stick came flying out of nowhere, a direct hit to james potter’s perfect— in regulus’ esteemed opinion— nose, making his head snap back with the force of the hit. the blood gushed instantly, hot and red and angry as it streamed over his mouth and down his chin, so there was really no question.

broken. 100% broken.

after a lifetime spent watching hockey, and briefly playing it before deciding it was not for him, regulus hardly bats an eye at the casual violence of the sport anymore. still, seeing the his boyfriend’s face break repeatedly as the hit is replayed from different angles on the jumbotron makes him wince— simultaneously sympathyic and empathetic, since he’s experienced the sensation himself before. it’s not pleasant. not that james is likely to waste time wallowing over something as insignificant as a broken nose, especially when they still have a game to win. as if to prove regulus’ point, james’ team pulls him away and launches at the player retroactively, giving regulus a perfect view of james’ face, or more specifically the blood staining his white teeth red as he grins devilishly at the player, unfazed and undaunted. the game starts back up as soon as james’ blood has been wiped up from the ice.

when the buzzer sounds, releasing the teams for their second intermission, regulus calmly stands and makes his way toward the locker room. duty calls.

“players and staff only,” the security guard tells him at the door.

“just tell them regulus black is here,” regulus says wearily. “they’re expecting me.”

the security guard looks at him suspiciously before disappearing inside, likely looking forward to returning and telling regulus he’s welcome to fuck right off.

regulus sighs heavily. oh the things he does for james potter.

the door opens quickly, and the thoroughly confused looking security guard re-emerges to usher him inside.

it takes him all of one second to locate james, even though he’s almost completely obscured by medical staffers making attempts to set his nose. he waves them off agitatedly before catching sight of regulus approaching. regulus knows james forgets his nose is broken because he smiles before his brain can remind him how poor of an idea that is— what the warning signs failed to do, the pain takes care of seconds later. he instantly winces, which likely hurts just as bad, and regulus hurries towards him.

“stop that, you idiot,” he hisses fondly, kneeling before james. he settles his hands on his knees, looking up at the bruised face before him.

“canb heb it,” james returns incomprehensively. there are two long wads of toilet paper stuffed up each nostril to slow the bleeding. regulus knows that’s all james would let them do until he got here. “‘m habby to see ew.”

“yeah i’m habby to see ew too,” regulus mocks him teasingly. “be happier if i didn’t have to do this shit anymore. don’t you know better than to get in the way of some asshole’s stick? you’re supposed to be a fucking professional!”

james looks affronted. “he swunb ah me.” he points to himself for emphasis.

“yeah, yeah,” regulus mumbles, knowing he’s putting off the inevitable.

“ew ready?” james asks him.

“are you?” he returns, deflecting. james almost smiles again, but nods for him to continue.

“hold on,” a physical trainer, new by the look of him, cuts in from behind. “he’s setting your nose?” the disbelief in his voice echoes around the room. regulus might feel offended if he didn’t also agree with this sentiment.

“he has to,” peter, their goalie replies harshly. as if the medical professional is the crazy one here.

the poor guy looks around helplessly, suddenly the recipient of every players harsh glare.

“but he’s—“ regulus assumes he’s about to say ‘some random fucking guy’ before switching tactics, speaking directly to regulus. “do you even have the proper training?” he demands.

“does doing this four times before count as the proper training?” he returns dryly. the staffer looks surprised at this, so regulus graciously fills in the blanks as quickly as possible.

“look, it’s not you. it’s a superstition thing. i set his nose during a game once in a very desperate situation years ago and then, unfortunately for me, they won. when it happened again, james insisted i do it again and they won. again. they’ve won every game i’ve had to set it. so naturally…”

the staffer nods, eyes awash with new understanding. “you have to do it now. right. no, i get it. just um. do your thing, i guess.”

with that semblance of approval, regulus turns back around to face james.

regulus reaches up, eyes locked on the crooked nose before him. he breathes, knowing the exact motion he needs to make, his hands far too familiar with the bloody job for his liking. if it were anyone else, anyone in the entire world, he’d be miles away from this locker room, far removed from the blood and gore and messiness. but the task of caring for james falls firmly and unquestionably under his jurisdiction.

james’ eyes stay trained on him, pupils blown wide from pain or perhaps something else entirely.

regulus looks into them, notes the complete trust pooling in those dark brown irises, and nods quickly to himself. then, in one fast motion, he pulls the nose down with just enough force to emit a small “pop” as the cartilage slots back into its proper place. james’s barely even winces, eyes still trained on regulus.

“good?” regulus asks, moving james’ face side to side to inspect for any more damage.

“gub,” james replies calmly.

regulus makes to stand when james’ hands latch onto his wrists possessively. “ew forgot someding.”

regulus can’t keep the smile from his face even as he rolls his eyes. he knew exactly what he was “forgetting” to do. but it is, however, a sacred and crucial part of this tradition. he leans down and captures james’ lips in as chaste of a kiss as he can manage in a lockerroom full of hooting men while still maintaining a shred of his dignity.

james’ eyes sparkle when he pulls away.

“now go win this, potter,” regulus orders him as he backs away.

this time, james doesn’t let the pain stop him from grinning back.

they win the game.

[kyoteugly]

Inspired by this post I made a fanarts and it turned into a fanfic. All you can find under the cut.

Kiss me

Buck/Eddie | T | 1.1k | with fanart

Buck had no idea how he ended up in a Lakers game which he had no interest in. Well, it wasn't exactly true. He knew he would end up here eventually, tickets were an anniversary gift after all, so it was given that he would be here with his boyfriend. But he didn't have a boyfriend anymore. Or girlfriend. Or even a date. It would be pretty bold to take a newly met person to a Lakers game. That kind of date could end... enthusiastically. But using those tickets to get laid would make him a bad person, right? Nah, he wouldn't do that.  It crossed his mind that he should return the tickets, he doesn't even like basketball...

"Yes! Go, go, go! Hell yeah!"

Buck stuffed another fist of popcorn into his mouth, watching Eddie take his seat again. He's so excited - commenting the game to Buck and cheering loudly, standing up whenever emotions take over - it's nice to see Eddie like this, smiling and joyful… looking so… alive.

Right, that's why he's here.

He showed Eddie the tickets and he just froze, looking like a cat who saw a Christmas tree for the first time. With his mouth slightly open in wonder and big eyes reflecting every colorful light in them. Buck didn’t even have to think about it, he just gave both tickets to Eddie. And immediately, before even taking them from Buck’s hand, Eddie said something like “Only if you come with me.” And Buck said “sure” - again, without thinking.

And now he’s here, wearing the only yellow t-shirt he could find, because Eddie insisted he has to wear proper colors, when he showed up at Buck’s loft in a Lakers purple hoodie. 

“Great game, we’re gonna win for sure.” Eddie lets out a little huff and runs fingers through his hair to clear it from his flushed face. 

Buck thinks he should take that hoodie off, but he’s also sure Eddie would refuse, giving him an offended look. Somehow this image makes Buck smile with fondness.

And a second later it’s gone, because Eddie insolently reaches for Buck’s popcorn.

“Eyy! You said you don’t want, so hands off!” Buck tries to guard his food but Eddie only grins at him like this is some kind of dare and reaches again. This time he’s much faster and Buck is unable to save his snack from Eddie’s grabby hands.

He looks at Buck with a victorious bratty smile, while chewing slowly. Buck gazes at him like a look could kill, but Eddie is not impressed. He simply sucks his Coke through the straw and still grinning turns back to the court. 

Finding his own soda cup empty, Buck just pouts with his eyes fixed on the seat in front of him. He definitely doesn’t like basketball.

He lets out a short sigh, and looks around. The intermission should start soon, so if he wants to avoid crowds, he should go get a drink now. But before he gets up, a cup of Coke appears in front of him. 

Buck takes it and sinks into his seat with a soft smile and a warm feeling spreading through his chest. Eddie didn’t even look at him, he didn’t have to. Surrounded by all the noise and lights, all the people, he’s still aware of Buck by his side. Excited and engaged in the live game he loves so much, he still sees Buck and knows what he thinks.

It’s so natural, Buck never really thought about it. But now he does and he realizes Eddie is always there for him, no questions asked, honest but not judgmental, no matter what’s going on in his life. No matter if it’s silently drinking beer on a living room couch or going on a game together. Because somehow it feels like Eddie is here not only for his own fun but for Buck as well. 

Especially when Eddie nudges Buck to join him, when he starts singing with the most joyful smile on his face. 

“Kiss me, out of the bearded barley Nightly…”

And Buck can’t help it but to look… at this unruly stand of dark hair, at those long eyelashes casting soft shadow over honey-colored eyes… at those full lips, singing…

“You'll wear those shoes and I will wear that dress Oh, kiss me…!”

Eddie nudges him again and Buck caves, singing along. 

They both look at the screen, watching people smiling and kissing. And Buck is sure Eddie, like always, is here for him. To make him feel this carefree lightness, to simply enjoy the moment, either it’s a game or making fools of themselves singing corny songs on top of their lungs.

They butchered the second verse, none of them sure what the words are, but it doesn’t matter. They laugh like they hadn’t in a long time, together in this freeing act of simply being themselves. And they give all they got when the chorus plays again…

“Oh, kiss me, beneath the milky twilight Lead me out on the moonlit floor Lift your open hand…”

Buck looks at Eddie and he thinks some silly thoughts… how beautiful Eddie is, how happiness makes his eyes sparkle mischievously but at the same his lips curve with fondness… how he knows him and loves him, not despite being Buck, but because of it… he looks at Eddie in this warm golden hue and he thinks he’s like a sun…

Eddie turns to him and Buck immediately avoids his gaze because…

Suddenly Buck sees himself on the big screen and somewhere in the back of his mind he knows he should wave “no” but he can’t… because Eddie is still looking at him, and all Buck wants is to meet his honey-colored eyes.

“So kiss me”

Buck isn’t aware he exhales the lyrics when Eddie gently cups his face. And then he kisses Buck. Softly and oh-so sweetly, with the whisper of longing in the light pressure and delicate movement of his lips. It’s tender, it’s perfect, it takes Buck’s breath away.

And then Eddie pulls away, ducking his head and smiling shyly.

“Sorry… I got carried away.” Abashed, he's scratching the back of his head.

Buck knows he’s blushing, his face is so hot, he’s sure he’s red up to his ears. He wants Eddie to keep kissing him, he wants to kiss him back but before he’s able to process this, Eddie asks sheepishly.

“Can I have some popcorn now?”

Buck laughs, his blue eyes shine with fondness because somehow this question makes him want to kiss Eddie even more. But he doesn’t. They share a snack and get back to watching the game. Buck would never admit to it but he kinda starts to like basketball.

Somewhere during the second half, Buck takes Eddie’s hand, and without taking his eyes off the court, without any questioning look, Eddie squeezes Buck’s hand gently, and throughout the rest of the evening, he doesn’t let go. 

[yeagerprincess]

So I had this idea of Dabi mentally snapping from lack of sleep and kind of needing a handler for a minute :3c

SFW

The very first time Dabi snapped was only weeks after he asked you to be his girlfriend. He'd been haunted by his nightmares more than usual lately and this time, he didn't have the mental capacity for another resurfaced memory. His eyes were shot wide open, brows twitching as he mind cycled through his various traumas. Poor boy was lost so deeply in his own tormenting that the sound of your voice was practically nonexistent to him.

"Dabi? You still with me, baby?" You reach for his arm, but stop dead in your tracks when he flinches away from you. You can hear him panting and gasping, his voice pitched much higher than normal. He makes his way for the bedroom door then down the stairs, heading straight for the exit. He doesn't seem to be in a hurry, more like he's dazed, sleepwalking.

Your cries and calls fall on deaf ears. Dabi seems to be lost in his own world, completely unresponsive to you. "Baby, wait!" You plead, gripping onto his coat and making him finally slow to a stop. As you circle around to face him, the unmistakable sight of his crimson tears just breaks your heart. If only you could take away his hurt.

"It's okay, baby, it's me. Remember me?" Dabi's breathing is erratic and wild, the same as his gaze. He watches you in a panic as you carefully lift your arms to take one of his hands with both of yours, the gentle caressing of your fingertips on the back of his hand seeming to ground him just a bit. He nods only slightly, mumbling a meek little "mhm," as he watches you for the slightest hint of ill intent. But alas, your loving gaze holds nothing but adoration and compassion. The unwavering glimmer of love in your eyes is ultimately what compels Dabi to follow your lead, his gaze softening as you slowly inch your way back towards headquarters.

"That's it, sweet boy. Come back home with me."

"Home?" he repeats, voice hushed and hopeful.

"Home. Everyone's waiting for you. We miss you, baby." Dabi finally gives into the gentle tugging of his coat, his feet dragging heavy and lazy on the concrete. "Everyone's... waiting? For me..... why?"

"Because we love you, Da- Touya. We were all worried sick, Touya." The way he picks up the pace isn't lost on you. The sweetness in your voice is irresistible to him, it gives him tunnel vision, makes you the center of his mind where his previous focus had been his horror show of a childhood. You take out your phone to text Shigaraki:

You: Found him. He's out of it, but he's coming home with me.

Shigaraki: Huh? What's "out of it?"

You: I think he's snapped. I'll take care of him. Headed upstairs now.

Shigaraki: Good. He listens to you more than he obeys me anyways. Your problem.

The next few minutes go by in a blur. Himiko is the first to approach you both. "Dabi, don't just run off like that! I hate it when my friends go away!"

Then, Mr Compress. "I see the star of the show has returned from his intermission. Good to have you back, my friend."

As you make your way upstairs, Spinner nods towards to the two of you. "Welcome back, brother."

Finally, Shigaraki stops you before you can make your way back into your shared bedroom. "Thanks for looking out."

Once you're alone, you lock the door behind you and turn to face Dabi, who seems to be muttering to himself yet again. As you listen in, you manage to catch one of the words he's whispering: family.

"Yes, sweetie. This is your family. See how everyone missed you? How happy they were to see you? Your family loves you, Touya." Your words begin to coax a shy, boyish, hopeful smile out of him, one you'd never seem before. He looks so happy, and not his usual maniacal kind of happy, but genuine joy this time. "Are you sleepy?" You glide your fingers over his scarred jaw, making his lids flutter shut from the unfamiliar gentle treatment as he nods into your palm.

"Sleepy," he mumbles, eyes still closed as you tenderly remove his coat and outfit, helping him step out of his boots and into a comfy pair of sweatpants. He easily caves into your guidance, allowing you to pull him into bed with you. Those gorgeous, icy blue eyes pierce into your own. Even though he's clearly exhausted, he doesn't seem to want to take his eyes off you, as if you'd disappear by the time he opened them again. Your heart just about melts when you feel him grabbing onto your shirt and clinging to you, nuzzling his face up against your chest and neck. "So nice to me," he coos as you thread your fingers through his messy, dyed hair.

You kiss the top of his head as your arms tighten around his shoulders. "Always gonna love you, baby."

[ladylooch]

Lexi's Most Difficult Patient - [Nico x Lexi]

A/N: Everyone say thank you to Jay (@missjomarch) for this because I told her the fate of this being posted today rested in her hands. But also it’s almost her birthday!!!!!!!! Sooo happy early birthday to my little sister. I love you! Proud of you for all you’ve grown in this last year and cannot wait to see what is next for you!

Originally from this request.

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: injury- concussion, one mention of blood

The bright afternoon sun is a little confusing to Lexi Hischier as she hustles into the Prudential Center after her sister in law. Normally, she is used to coming into this arena as the sun is setting or already down, but today’s game is a matinee showdown with the Islanders. The girls drove to the game together, but arrived late due to unexpected traffic. Lexi has Lucie in her arms, her little legs bopping against her mom’s hip as her quick steps lead them down the ramp to the elevator. 

It is ten more minutes before they are settled into their seats in the family section. Lexi and Emma wave to the other WAGS, then quickly focus their attention to the game. 

“Bah!” Lucie points and howls down at the ice. 

“Is daddy out?” Lexi wonders, pressing her lips into Lucie’s brown hair. Her green eyes scan the ice and she smiles when she sees her husband, hustling forward with the puck. 

He looks good today. Nico oozes focus, dialed in to the task at hand despite the earlier game time and lack of a pre-game nap. Lexi isn’t surprised. He had an extra pep in his step this morning when he kissed his girls goodbye. 

“Nico looks good.” Emma murmurs, clapping around Lio in her lap at Nico’s shot attempt. 

“Mhm.” Lexi responds, chewing on her minty gum in anticipation of the next puck drop. 

Things quickly take a sour turn for the Devils after the ten minute mark of the 1st period. What started off as a fast pace game, quickly turned sluggish and frustrating as they began an undisciplined march to the penalty box. Nico spends more time killing penalties than attacking the net and his annoyance is evident as he flips his stick against the boards at the period intermission.

“Is it too early to drink?” Emma jokes, leaning back in her seat. Lio turns around, asking for a snack. “Sure, bubba. Lex, do you two need anything?” 

“Can you grab me some water?” Lexi asks politely. “Oh and a cookie if they have one.”

“Yes! I hope they have the ones from last game.” Emma grins. She stands up, taking Lio’s hand for their climb up the stairs. 

Emma and Lio make it back just as the second period is starting with various treats, including the desired cookies. Lio carefully balances the unopened water bottle in his hands, then beams as he hands it to Lexi.

“Good job, Lee.” His aunt murmurs, then smooches his cheek as he giggles. “How is he so big?” She pouts at Emma.

“I don’t know.” Emma sighs. Lucie had been sitting in Emma’s seat while she was gone. Her aunt scoops her up, smooching at her cheek loudly. “Mwah! How are you so big too, sweet girl?” Lexi smiles, then crosses her legs, leaning forward in her seat as she claps.

“Come on, baby. Let’s get something going.” 

The second period energy is anxious. Lexi spends a lot of it bitting her bottom lip with worry. Hockey is a physical game, but these hits seem on a different level. She closes her eyes as Nico is rocketed into the boards, making the plexiglass sway from the momentum. When she opens her eyes again, she feels immense relief that he is skating away with the play unscathed. 

“Oof.” Emma mutters, holding Lucie tighter.

“Not loving it.” Lexi sighs, putting a hand over her mouth.

She watches as her husband goes into the opposite end corner, fighting hungrily for a puck with the Islanders defenseman. Suddenly, another Islander player comes in and obliterates Nico, bringing an elbow up to his face to follow through his check. Lexi gasps, shooting back in shock in her chair as Nico falls to the ice in obvious pain. Timo comes barreling in, grabbing the defenseman before shaking his gloves lose.

“Ugh! Timo!” Emma grumbles. 

Lexi can’t worry about Timo right now. Her sole focus is on her husband who still has his face resting in his gloves. He lays flat on his chest, then slowly makes his way to his knees, face still buried. The trainer slides across the ice to him. Lexi can feel her chest moving up and down but she doesn’t really breathe. Not until he sits up on his knees. She can’t see his face from where she is, but he looks unsteady on his knees. 

“Take it slow.” Lexi whispers. She brings her clasped hands up to her mouth.

Off to the side, the refs break up Timo and the Islanders defenseman. Timo skates off with a spring in his step towards the Devils locker room. It’s close to the end of the period and blood visibly drips off Timo’s knuckles onto the white surface.

When Nico finally stands up, Emma pats Lexi’s thigh encouragingly. 

“That’s a good sign.”

Lexi nods absentmindedly, then runs an anxious hand through her hair. She looks up at the scoreboard, swallowing heavily as the seconds begin to tick down again. She pulls her phone out of her purse, keeping it in her hand for the next few minutes, waiting for a phone call to come through. Instead, it’s a text asking her to come downstairs to the training room.

“They want me to go down there.”

“Oh no.” Emma frowns. Usually, injured players stick around through the game and families meet up with them after the final buzzer. But that doesn’t seem to be the case for Nico right now. “Do you want me to keep her?” Emma asks about Lucie who is still content in her lap.

“No. I better grab all our stuff.” Lexi decides. She puts her purse back over her shoulders, then grabs the diaper bag before gathering up her daughter. “I’ll see you.” She murmurs to Emma.

“Text me what’s going on when you can.” Emma requests. Lexi nods.

With their daughter in hand, Lexi nervously heads down to the locker room. A team representative meets her at the elevator, then brings her back to the training room. Players flow in and out of the room, getting work done between periods. Timo and Nico are in beds next to each other. Timo’s knuckles are being tended to while Nico lays with a towel over his eyes, mostly undressed from his hockey gear, except for his undershorts.

“Hi baby.” Lexi quietly announces her presence. 

“I can take, Luc.” Timo offers, grinning at his niece.

“No you can’t. You’re bleeding.” The trainer mutters to him. Lexi chuckles.

“Thanks, T. I got her. Thanks for sticking up for her dad out there too.”

“Gonna clock him again in the third.”

“No, you’re not.” Nico mutters. “Keep the team in the game.” 

Lexi and Timo share a look, then she reaches for the towel to lift it from over her husband’s eyes.

“What’s the word?”

“Concussion.” He rolls his eyes. “I disagree.” Lexi’s eyebrows scrunch together.

“Why?” 

“Because I’m fine.” He snaps, sitting up. He runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “The team needs me.” He glares beyond his wife to the team doctor who seems unfazed by Nico’s outburst.

A silent conversation goes between the two of them, like they have already had this conversation out loud and both are too irritated to get into it again in front of Nico’s wife. Lexi looks away from her husband to the team doctor.

“I’ll leave.” Timo murmurs, hopping off the table and lumbering back into the locker room.

“Nico sustained a concussion.” The doctor begins when it is just the three of them. “Testing shows cognitive decline. He is having sensitivity to light and sound. He also thinks I didn’t see him sneak Excedrin from the medicine cabinet, but I did.” Nico rolls his eyes again.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.” The doctor says with finality. “Out for two weeks. We will monitor symptoms daily.” Nico scoffs, then throws the towel back down on his face, signaling he is done with this discussion.

“Did he lose consciousness?” Lexi asks hesitantly.

“No. Prognosis is good as long as he follows doctors orders.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to follow those, he can follow the wife’s.” The team doctor chuckles.

“I like that. Get him home and resting. He’ll be okay.” The doctor encourages Lexi then exits the room to head back with the rest of the team towards the third period.

“Nico.” Lexi murmurs. “Let’s go home.”

When Nico doesn’t respond. She sets their daughter on his chest. Nico grins, peaking out from the towel at their daughter’s smiley face. The two Hischiers play peek-a-boo with the towel as Lucie’s infections giggles fill the room with happier energy. 

“I’m sorry, babe.” He sighs after a few moments. “I’m just frustrated. The team needs me.”

“So does this team.” Lexi reminds him, biting her bottom lip worriedly at his unfocused gaze. He holds her gaze as best he can, then sighs. 

“I’m gonna shower quick, then we can go home.” Lexi frowns deeper. 

“I don’t want you to fall over in there. Just get you dressed. We can shower together when we get home.” Nico grins excitedly. “Not like that.” She clarifies immediately. Nico scoffs, handing over Lucie so he can stand up.

“Fuck.” He mutters as he hops off the table. He sways into Lexi, stumbling and needing to grab the table for further balance. “I tripped over my feet.” Nico insists at his wife’s worried look.

Lexi watches his retreating back to the locker room. Lucie whines in her arms. 

“Shhh it’s okay, baby.” Lexi murmurs, cradling her daughter’s head to her mouth. 

Nico doesn’t seem phased by Lexi’s worry. 

Fine.

They can do this the hard way then.

- - - 

“Babe.” Nico grumbles as she runs her fingers through his hair to wake him up. He has been sleeping for two hours and it’s time for another check in.

“Mr. Hischier. Please open your eyes.” She drawls at him. He pops a curious eyeball open at her, like maybe she will finally give in to his pleading for sex. “How are you feeling?”

“If I say bad, will you help make me feel better?” He mumbles to her. He bites his bottom lip smugly at his own proposition. “Cause my biggest issue is this.” He grabs her hand, putting it on his growing arousal.

“Mmm.” She mewls to him, squeezing him for a moment. Nico shudders. “I really did want to reward you for being such a good patient today, but you’ve sucked.” She grins at his stammering as she moves away from him.

“Wh-what? I’ve done everything you asked today!” He mutters. “This isn’t fair. Suck my dick, baby. Please. Please, Lex.” He practically howls at her.

“I saw you take the garbage out.” She says, opening up Nico’s iPad to the Notes application. Inside there is seven days of symptom checks from the last week since his injury.

“Am I seriously being punished for taking out the trash?” He gapes at her like she can’t be serious. “What’s next? I get points off for helping with Lucie’s bath time tonight?”

“Your instructions were to what?” He balks, rolling his eyes then wincing at the motion. He brings a hand up, rubbing at the left side of his forehead. 

“Patient showing sings of headache on the left side.” She mumbles as she types.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You didn’t have to.” She says without looking up at him.

“It’s not from the concussion. It’s from my blue balls.”

Lexi giggles, a little snort coming out, which makes Nico laugh too. He groans, throwing his upper body into her lap exasperatedly.

“Not until you can get through the day headache free.” She reminds him, threading her fingers into his long hair. He pops up quickly, then closes one eye in discomfort.

“Maybe if we have sex I will have a headache free day.” He suggests.

“Okay, maybe tomorrow.” She pushes into his head with her pointer finger, forcing his head back down so he is laying in her lap. 

“I miss you.” He sighs dramatically towards the apex of her thighs.

“You are going on the list of top 5 worst patients I have ever had. The newborns in the NICU listened better than you.” She teases him. He moves forward, digging his face into her belly button. Then he lifts her shirt, putting his mouth there and blowing a raspberry into her skin. She feels his teeth from his grin as her abdomen shakes with laughter. “Neeks, focus. What else are you experiencing?”

“Did you write down my blue balls?”

“No!” She explodes with laughter, holding his head to her stomach so he doesn’t shake too much. 

“Um, I’m hungry for puss-“

“Enough.” Lexi says, putting a more professional tone into her voice. “This is serious. You could have longterm brain damage from this. We need to monitor what is happening to you.”

“Babe, I am fine.” He huffs, rolling out of her lap. “I have a headache, yeah. But it’s not like it was the first few days. I haven’t been dizzy.“ He shrugs. “I feel fine.”

“What about sensitivity? You seemed bothered by Lucie’s tears this morning.”

“Yeah because I hate when she cries.” He mumbles, crossing his arms over his chest.

Lexi looks over Nico for further evaluation. She leans forward, grabbing a wrist to check his pulse. Its strong and steady. She climbs onto his lap, looking into his eyes at his pupils and eye movement. He does seem to be doing better, but Lexi isn’t quite ready to release him back into the world. Sure, Nico has been hurt before, but this one is different. They are parents now, with more responsibilities than ever and the thought of what happens on the ice disrupting their family life has Lexi on edge.

She sighs, carding her fingers through both sides of his long, brown hair. 

“You need a trim.” She mumbles.

“Oh is that on the approved list?” Nico wonders. His hands snake around her hips, pulling her into his body tighter. He lays his head on her breasts, nuzzling his nose and cheek into the right one.

“Yeah.” She says, closing her eye and placing her mouth in the part of his hair. Tears start to sting in her eyes as she clutches Nico to her chest. Her throat begins to tighten, making it difficult to breathe fully or swallow. She sucks her cheeks in, trying to fight the emotions back. She needs to be the strong one right now to get them through this.

“Your heart is pounding.” Nico mumbles, pulling back. She opens her eyes and watches as his brown eyes turn concerned and gooey at her tears. “Baby, I’m okay.” Her bottom lip trembles. Nico runs his hands up from her hips to her back, pressing her into his chest now. Lexi shudders on her next breath.

“I just can’t stomach you not getting better.”

“I know.” He whispers quietly. “But I am getting better. You’re getting me there, sweets.” He rakes his fingers through her hair, then trails them down her spine comfortingly. “I’ll be better. I promise.” His nose digs into her scalp. “What other questions do you have for me?”

“Is that all it takes for you to listen? Tears?” She tries to lighten the mood, wiping her fingers across her wet cheeks.

“Yeah. I hate when you cry too, babe. Makes me feel helpless and sick.” 

“That’s how I feel when I see you laying on the ice like you were.” Nico is quiet, not knowing what he can say to make that better. He is going to get hit. Neither of them can prevent that. 

Lexi presses her palm into the middle of his chest, needing to feel his heart beat. Nico’s hand comes over hers, rubbing over the tendons of her fingers as they sit quietly together. 

“I love you.” Lexi tells him then pulls away. Nico smiles tenderly at her from below. His lips plumpen, asking her for a kiss. She eagerly obliges. Their tongues meld together, lips separating to let each other in. Before Lexi knows it, she is being lifted up as Nico stands. His hands eagerly grip her ass as he walks her down the hallway leading to their bedroom.

“Nico.”

“Shh. Let me love you, baby.”

Lexi melts at his words and needy tone.

When he asks like that, how can she say no?

Read more Nico and Lexi here.

[earlysunshines]

keep me close (and never let me go)

minatozaki sana x fem!reader ; fluff ; wc: 1.9k

synopsis: sana can't sleep and you can't stop practicing

warnings: not proofread

a/n: hiiii it's been a bit, finals killed me and i've been terribly busy.

a drop of sweat hits the floor once the song stops and your chest heaves up and down as you pause in your place. you let out a sharp sigh and ignore the aching in your limbs.

you’ve been practicing for who knows how long now, trying to perfect a dance for some special stage you have with a mix of various boy group idols. it’s in a month, but it’s better to get it down sooner than later.

before replaying the chorus, you take a short one-minute break before going back to practicing again, making sure that each movement is sharp and precise. a bead of sweat drips down your face, and each breath is less controlled. still, you managed to get the chorus down, but you weren’t pleased.

a frustrated groan leaves your lips before you walk over to the speaker, running a hand through your hair and gripping it tightly out of frustration.

as you do so, you hear the door open, and spot sana popping in with a small plastic grocery bag.

you look at her from the mirror, then turn to face her. “sana?”

she shrugs. “i couldn’t sleep.” 

you watch her grab a blanket from the closet in the room and situate herself on the couch, laying down and pulling out her phone.

“keep going, sorry if i bothered you.” sana assures, “you weren’t at the dorm and i figured you’d be here. i didn’t know where else to go.” 

“i don’t think the music will help you sleep.”

“well,” sana begins, looking away from her phone. “i always fall asleep easily around you and i like being around you anyway. just wanted to see you.”

you smile at the last part of her comment and try to fight the butterflies in your stomach. you chuckle awkwardly and clear your throat, then sana watches the corner up your lips curl up.

“i see… get comfy.”

with a small towel, you dab off any sweat on your face then replay the chorus again. you repeat the choreo of that section again, and it’s pretty acceptable during this run, which differs from the previous tries. while you dance, you notice sana from the corner of your eye. she lies down on her phone and the blanket covers her like a warm embrace, how lucky that blanket is.

you practiced the chorus two more times, singing a little on both those attempts and quickly growing tired from how vigorous all of it is. there’s a short fifteen second intermission before you go over the bridge once and then the chorus one last time before giving into your exhaustion. you decide to take a short break and wander off to the corner of the practice room. you exhale deeply as you squat down and check your phone.

click

your head perks up from the sound and the flash from the phone sana holds in her delicate hands. the two of you make eye contact and after catching the surprised look on sana’s face; you can’t help but smile in amusement.

“sorry, you looked funny on the floor like that. you kinda look like that one pokemon mina was showing us.” she giggles.

you mirror her smile and laugh with her. “wooper?”

“yes.” she responds, “you look just like it.”

“you’re so stupid.”

“and you’re so cute.” sana teases, easily making you shift your gaze elsewhere. you pull out your phone to snap a quick picture of her on the couch to call it even.

“you look funny like that too.” you say softly, then slowly get up with a low, exhausted groan. “kinda like weedle.”

“you hang out with mina too much.”

“whatever,” you roll your eyes, “you’re jealous.” you add, which earns a cute pout from the girl on the cushions. you walk over to the couch and plop down next to sana to give yourself a break, grabbing a small water bottle on the table in front of you and chugging it.

sana smiles and hands you a small towel before asking, “how long have you been practicing?”

“oh, um…” you checked the time on your phone, “11:14pm.” you mutter and raise your brows a bit at the sight, shocked at how you lost track of time. “two hours i guess.” 

sana gets up in surprise and almost gasps, “are you serious?”

“yeah, i just needed some extra practice.” you shrug. sana motions you to sit closer to her.

“that’s a lot… have you had any breaks?” she asks. you’re quick to shake your head and scoot closer to her, setting the towel down on the table.

“it’s fine, i’m fine.” you assure quickly, but as soon as the words leave your mouth your body betrays your response. something in you shifts and you feel yourself losing balance, everything hits all at once and the timing was unfortunate. of course you started to feel the fatigue after you tried to stop her worrying. tiredly, you fall back onto the couch as your body loses all of its strength, arms falling limp by your side.

sana lets out a small breath, unhappy with your state. “you work yourself too much, i think you’re done for the night.” 

for a short moment, you contemplate whether you should argue with her or not, but you’re not in any condition to argue with sana right now; you end up not going through with it. giving in, you use the last of your energy to scoot even closer and lean against her shoulder, picking up the scent of her floral fragrance—your favorite.

“i’m kind of worried about this whole special stage, the dancing style is different than a lot of our choreos.” you confess, “i just want to perfect it quickly.”

sana looks at you with creased brows and a frown, then intertwines her fingers with yours. “hey… don’t beat yourself up about this. you’re doing it well, trust me. i watched you redo the chorus even when you were tired, you did amazing.”

“you’re just saying that because-”

“i mean it y/n.” sana declares sternly, squeezing your hand tighter. you turn your head to face her and your eyes lock. she has this look in her eyes, it’s mixed with worry and determination, a mix that makes your heart break and yearn simultaneously. “y/n, you’re one of the best dancers i know, seriously. you always manage to get any choreography we’re given down so fast, and just because you’re struggling with it this time you’re second guessing yourself and i hate that. you’re capable of so much, but you’re letting a small mishap get to your mind just like before.”

“before” rings in your head, you know exactly what this “before” is. sana frowns and holds both your hands now. you stare at her with your eyes widened and try to form a response, but nothing gets past your lips.

“you’re a hard worker, and i admire that—but don’t work yourself until you collapse. i’ve known you since we were trainees and i-” she looks down and tightens her jaw, then gazes into your eyes again. “i can’t bear to see you so harsh on yourself like that again. we’re not trainees anymore, i don’t want you stressing like that again.”

“sana…” you start. still, the words you wanted to say rolled around in your throat relentlessly but never made their way out. you smile appreciatively and hold her hand tighter. without hesitation and a sudden confidence, you lean in a bit closer and sana feels a warm pair of lips on her cheek. her eyebrows raise and her pulse quickens, she’s all warm inside when you linger for a moment. you stretch your arms out and hug her after, your eyes close as you rest your head on her shoulder. “i feel better now that you’re here, thank you.”

she smiles and pushes her nose into your neck before melting into your body and muttering, “of course, i care about you more than you know.”

“me too sha.”

the two of you stay there for a bit longer, simply enjoying each other’s presence and comfort. it’s always been like this, you and sana had been close as trainees and were always there for each other. even years later—after twice’s debut and a handful of successful comebacks—sana was always there when you needed her; always by your side no matter what. it was hard to keep your admiration and feelings for her platonic.

you fell for her because she was—and still is—the sweetest, most genuine person you know. ever since you were trainees, no, ever since your first meeting with her; she’s brightened up the atmosphere just by existing. you admired her talent, her charm, and her love for others, and after realizing she was the prettiest woman on earth—inside and outside—there wasn’t going back.

falling for someone like her was inevitable, but you had to conceal your true emotions toward her no matter what. being her friend was everything to you, and you couldn’t screw up your life because of some feelings for someone you’d consider your whole world.

the two of you held onto each other in silence for a little before you pulled away first, scared that lingering too long would be too weird (sana didn’t mind, if anything; she’d cling to you forever).

“you’re being really cute right now y/n.” she giggled, grinning so hard that her eyes start to shine a little.

“you’re a tease.” you sigh, trying to mask how flustered she gets you. sana laughs again.

“i like your reactions.” she admits, “now come on, you must be tired. get some rest pretty.”

she lies down on the couch again and taps her stomach, signaling you to lay down on her. you look at her like she’s crazy, and she just smiles.

of course you wanted to accept this offer and despite this offer being a common one—it’s sana, whenever she’s with you she can’t keep her hands off—you couldn’t accept it, especially not after your two-hour practice.“i’m all gross and sweaty.” you argue, “i can’t.”

“you’re not that gross and sweaty, come on.” she insists, tugging on your sleeve. again, you fail to argue back and give in to her antics especially when she gives you those sparkly puppy eyes. slowly, you lower yourself onto her and she accepts you with open arms, eagerly pulling you closer to her. “you’re not that gross or sweaty, do you not like when i—“

“no, no.” you’re quick to dismiss her, “i like it sana, i love it.”

“good,” sana mumbles against you. “that’s what i thought.”

sana feels more of your weight push down on her as you situate yourself comfortably in her arms. you shift over one last time and your arm ends up wrapped around her waist, your head is in the crook of her neck, and sana wraps her arms around your upper back. sana feels your chest heave up and down against her own and moves her hand to massage your scalp.

as soon as sana does that you groan tiredly, making her giggle softly and it makes your heart flutter even as you start to fall asleep.

sana waits a few minutes before pausing the movement of her hand in your hair, then asks quietly, “are you asleep?”

silence follows.

she smiles and closes her own eyes, then pushes strands of hair that frame your sleeping face.

“you shouldn’t work yourself so much y/n,” she sighs. sana lifts her head up just a bit and tilts her head, then kisses your forehead softly, keeping her lips there for a few seconds before relaxing back into the couch.

“goodnight y/n, i love you always.”

[turcott3]

nothing matters but you

kirby dach x fem! reader

warnings?: cursing, mentions of blood, fluff

masterlist

-

you sat on your couch watching your long term boyfriend’s preseason game on the couch of your shared apartment. you were happier than ever to see him back out on the ice.

“no no what the fuck.” you gasp, seeing the hit laid on him, hitting the ice hard, and slow to get up.

your heart began to race, thumping harshly in your chest.

“no no no no, no this can’t be.” you repeat, watching the replay of the hit.

“mother fucker,” you scoff, the guy only receiving a 2 minute minor penalty as kirby is helped off the ice and into the locker room.

it’s like last season all over again. the worst deja vu you could ever ask for. you sat and watched your phone waiting for it to ring, surprisingly only lighting up with a text from your mother.

maybe it’s not bad, he would only call you if it it was bad, right?

your knee bounced up and down rapidly, waiting for intermission to be over.

“come on kirbs, please be okay.” you groan, the period about to start. as the break ended, the camera shows your boyfriend on the ice with his teammates, a huge sigh of relief exhaling from your mouth. soon after it started, he scored, looking as proud as ever, even being a little physical, further proving he was feeling better.

not that you wanted him to continue playing after that hit.

when the game was close to a close, he tossed the gloves with the man that laid a hit on him in the first period, pounding him with right hooks as he drug him to the ground, being escorted off to the locker room.

you could hardly wait for him to come home, your knee continuing to bounce until you heard the front door open. you shot up off the couch once you heard the lock turn, anxiously waiting for him to round the corner, a stern look on his face.

“hi baby.” you coo, signaling for him to come over to you, opening your arms, wrapping them around the back of his neck as he hugged you warmly.

“hi.” he replies, his voice muffled by your hair.

“you watch the game?” he asks lowly, pulling away, hands placed lightly on your waist still.

“of course i did, i wouldn’t miss it. how are you feeling? i’m worried about you.” you frown, combing his hair out of his eyes.

“i feel okay. the hit really shook me up, i was so scared.” he says.

“i know honey, i could tell.” you reply with a frown, pressing a kiss to his shoulder as you hugged back onto him.

“i just didn’t want to have to deal with a concussion again, especially since im just now healthy.”

“yeah, i understand.” you reply.

“it did feel nice to whoop his ass though.” he giggles lightly.

“oh im sure, its been a while since you’ve done that.”

“no kidding, i just have a pounding headache and my knuckles are a little bloody. and i guess my lip too.” he replies.

“let’s get you all cleaned up and grab you some ibuprofen, sound good?” you offer, him taking your face lightly into his hands.

“sounds perfect my love, thank you.” he smiles, pressing a short kiss to your forehead before he followed you into the bathroom, shutting the toilet lid and sitting on top of it.

“you looked really fucking hot and badass out there you know?” you giggle, pressing cotton balls lightly soaked in alcohol to his cuts, which he hissed in response to before you pressed a short kiss to each and every cut and bruise on the boy. his smile growing with every kiss.

“well it was just for you.” he teases, rounding his arms behind your thighs and pulling you closer between his legs, the smile on your face growing wider.

“well i’m a real lucky girl.” you reply, egging him on.

“no, i’m the lucky one. don’t get it twisted.” he giggles, squeezing the back of your thighs with his hands as he smiled up at you, leaning down for a sweet kiss.

“all better?” you ask, pulling away.

“all better.” he smiles contently, picking you up off the ground as he stood up, startling you, dropping the cotton balls on the counter as he carried you to the bed, tossing you onto it.

“kirby hey, don’t throw me.” you giggle, tucking yourself under the covers.

“well you didn’t say that last night did you?” he winks, you rolling your eyes in response.

“whatever. just get in bed, and here take these for your headache.” you say grabbing the pills from your nightstand and handing them over to him.

“thank you baby.” he replies, leaning over and kissing you again before taking them, and climbing into bed with you, opening his arms for you to lay tucked up in his side, your head resting on his chest as he twirled your soft hair between his fingers in a comfortable silence.

“you really did do amazing tonight kirbs, that goal was amazing, i’m so fucking proud of you, and how far you’ve come. you’re incredible. i wish i could’ve been there” you say, your thumb lightly running back and forth over his bare chest.

“thank you sweet girl. that means a lot to me. and i wish you were to but it’s okay, i was pissed i don’t think you want to see that.” he giggles lightly, pressing a sweet kiss to the top of your head.

“you think you would’ve scared me off?”

“well, maybe?”

“nothing you could ever do would scare me off kirby, i love you, you know that.”

“and i love you, i would just hate for you to see that side of me in real time.”

“i can handle it no matter what, because you’re still mine and i’ll always support you m’love.” you say quietly.

“thank you baby, not sure how i got lucky landing you but im so glad i did.” he replies, pressing a handful of soft kisses to your lips before the both of you drifted off into a peaceful sleep, wrapped up in each other just like every night, not a thing ever changing between the two of you.

just pure love.

[daceydeath]

A Work Proposal - Intermission

Pairing: Lee Know x Reader Word Count: 5.1k Genre: Smut, Angst Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Swearing, Conflict, Explicit Activities

You had been working with Stray Kids for a while now and after a long day at work turns into a very unexpected but intriguing proposal. Will this change your world or end your career.

You had been back in Korea for a few months now, the tour had finally ended and you were thrilled to sleep in your own bed for an extended period of time again. Although you weren't always alone in your bed these days, the kids now had a tendency to text you and either show up with dinner or just arrive with wine and end up staying the night. But as recording was due to start you saw them less giving you time to catch up on your actual job of working for them in a staff sense.

Walking into the JYP building you were already checking your emails on your phone, new albums meant new promotions and new promotions meant a world of organization. Sitting yourself at your desk and putting through your order from the usual coffee place you had about 40 minutes before you had to be in the dance studio of the Stray Kids managers meeting which was something that you had not missed while being away on the tour. Getting your notes in order you started setting up meetings with the creative teams for their inputs on what the themes would be for not only the album but the music videos, and comebacks. You needed to have at least a skeleton of a plan that you could flesh out later. The drinks order arrived at reception and you went down to collect it before making your way to the dance studio where you knew the members and managers would be.

"Morning Minho" you greeted him softly while he opened and held the door for you then took one of the trays of drinks to help out.

"Hi kitten" he almost whispered, his eyes flicking to your lips quickly.

"Coffee" Hyunjin groaned groggily from where he was laying on the floor rolling onto his side to grin at you making you shake your head already feeling the start of exasperation leaking into your mood, if they hadn't slept then they would potentially start acting like fools.

"Morning guys, not much sleep I'm guessing" you raised your eyebrows sighing through your nose.

"Nah we're good, Hyunjin is just pouty this morning" Chan teased making Hyunjin roll his eyes dramatically and flop down flat on the floor again.

"Do I need to know?" you asked slowly, giving Chan then Han their drinks before you looked around for Felix.

"You know he gets grumpy if he gets pulled away from his art before he’s ready" Han grinned toothily as a hat came flying past your vision towards him.

"Of course" you muttered, handing Felix his coffee watching his eyes light up.

"Thank you" he piped in looking around to see if there were any other staff around but realized you were the only one with them currently "Thank you Jagi".

"You're welcome Lixie" you cooed taking the cup holder back over to the counter so you could get out the tablet and your phone for when the meeting started.

"You look pretty today Angel" Jeongin added, looking you up and down carefully "Is that?...".

"The top you bought me? Yes" you nodded watching the corners of his lips quirk up making you feel the urge to tease the younger man. "I'm pretty sure I only ever look good because you treat my wardrobe like I'm a doll you can dress up whenever you like Innie".

"Hush you love it" Minho muttered, smacking you on the arse as he went to sit down.

"So recording has been going for a few days right?" You looked over to Chan for his affirmation "Do you have ideas for which song you are wanting for the comeback track?".

"Yes and no" Changbin sighed heavily. "We have another session today which might change it but it depends how it goes".

"That is fine, I just will have to start meeting with the ideas people about concepts for your album and comebacks so when you have a decision just let me know" you explained easily.

"You are already working too hard if you are up to concepts" Chan scolded lightly.

"I promise I'm not, I just like to be prepared. After all you still need to do your half of the deal and record it all" you countered winking at him for good measure and making him flush slightly.

"Are you coming to the recording studio today?" Felix asked hopefully while moving to lay on Hyunjin's legs, who was still frowning lightly.

"Probably why did you need me to do something else instead?" you furrowed your brows looking down at your tablet to pull up an email that just arrived in your inbox about several other managers being needed for other meetings leaving you with the brunt of the actual in person work for the near future.

"No, we love it if you're there" he looked at you quickly giving you his best puppy eyes.

"Well considering that I'm the only one in for the rest of the day due to meetings, yes I am coming to the studio today" you half smiled.

Recording had been running smoothly, the bts filming of the recording wasn’t happening, so you had the luxury of being able to be slightly less guarded as the process unfolded around you outside of the boys of Versachoi was in today and with him in headphones you could get away with small touches and glances. With Han coaching Jeongin and Seungmin through what he wanted the vocals on the track to sound like you sat sandwiched between Felix and Minho neither being able to keep their hands off of you. Felix was cuddled against your side with his head on your shoulder while Minho slung one of his legs over yours while one of his hands played with your hair. Neither said much, just grumbling if you needed to move or speak to the others, everytime Chan spun his chair to face you asking your opinion on how it sounded or about their schedules a knowing look would cross his face leaving you with a sense of warmth in your chest. Your phone rang and you extracted yourself for Felix’s grip and Minho’s legs moving towards the door to answer your phone. 

When you stepped into the hallway you continued watching the kids through the viewing window of the studio door. You had not missed the look Versachoi gave you as you crossed the room and it made you feel a strange uneasiness creep into your stomach. You dealt easily with the few issues in rescheduling a TV taping that the kids were meant to be attending but had been changed at the last moment, moving things for the following week to accommodate the station. Continuing to type away on another email you heard the door open from your place leaning against the wall opposite it but not looking up you were surprised when it wasn’t one of the kids voices that spoke to you.

“Chan says you work too much” Choi chuckled, stepping aside and leaning against the wall out so he was no longer visible from the studio.

“That is very much the pot calling the kettle” you smiled politely finishing your email and sending it.

“Look this might be a strange question but, are you involved with Chan?” he asked suddenly, flustering you to the point you almost dropped your phone.

“I’m sorry what?” you blinked at him, perplexed as to where that would even come from, you and he had probably had four conversations in all the time you had workday for JYPE and one of them was happening currently. Most of the interactions between him and Stray Kids was with the 3Racha team and you were never present so he was almost a stranger to you.

“That wasn’t polite” he admitted, looking away from you for a moment “You just seem a lot closer than just an artist and manager that's all”.

“I am not involved with Chan, I would consider him a close friend as we work so closely and I have a great deal of respect for him, but nothing more than that” you explained hoping this was all just a misunderstanding and that you would be able to talk your way out of it.

“Hyunjin told me you weren’t with him but I wasn’t sure if he was just saying that or not” Choi nodded, still not moving from his position beside the door.

“Hyunjin was telling the truth” you continued moving to step back into the studio.

“Well if you're single maybe we could grab dinner sometime, or just a drink if your schedule is tight” he smiled flirtatiously before making his way down the hallway leaving you to walk back into the studio still feeling an odd sense of trepidation.

“You ok pretty girl?” Han asked looking at you with concern “You look pale”.

“Um, yeah, Choi just asked me out since I’m not seeing Chan” you mumbled moving to sit back on the couch.

“Well you aren’t ‘just’ seeing Chan” Felix conceded, wrapping his arms around you again.

“He said he had asked Hyunjin who told him I was single” you swallowed looking at the fluffy blond hair spilling over your shoulder from where he had leant his head.

“But you aren’t single” Seungmin continued looking from you to Hyunjin and back again.

“It wouldn’t matter, I'm not interested in Choi regardless” you shrugged “He’s nice but I don’t actually know him”.

Chan frowned, turning back to the sound board and the others all seemed to be happy to go back to their previous activities for a few minutes until you were rejoined by Versachoi and your phone rang again. Once again stepping outside of the studio you were informed that a couple of meetings had been canceled so you would be relieved from studio duty by another one of the managers who was on his way, you would then have your break and after you had eaten your lunch you were needed to meet with the promotions department to go over idea to do with photocards and album editions for this next release. Reentering the studio the feeling in the room had definitely changed it now had an undercurrent of disquiet that you didn’t really want to deal with.

“I didn’t say anything wrong, it’s the truth, that’s exactly what it is” Hyunjin snapped defensively.

“Man, you have to think about this logically” Seungmin rolled his eyes as Chan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“It isn’t just your decision though it is?” Felix soothed softly, his hand squeezing his shoulder trying to calm the taller boy.

“Is everything alright?” you tilted your head after you closed the door quietly.

“Yeah, just a few lyric issues” Changbin huffed.

“I’m heading out for lunch and one of the others will be in with you for the rest of the day” you smiled tightly “If you need me just call I’m going to be with promotions so it’s not super important if something comes up down here”.

After sitting in a cafe down the street to have another, very, strong coffee and something to eat you made your way back to your desk to prepare for the promotions team, you had to go over which music shows they would make their comeback on and how many weeks they would be promoting. It was always a careful balance to give them enough air time to get the best sales and support but not so much that you oversaturated the audience and annoyed them or exhausted anyone to the point of injury. Your phone had stayed silent except for a text from Chan saying that he would like to speak to you later about the Hyunjin thing which you could understand.

Your afternoon wasn’t that productive, your mind drifting anytime you were uninterested in your work back to the look on Chan’s face and how annoyed he looked and the flippant way Hyunjin had ignored it. Something felt off but not in the way that you thought there was some disaster but more in the way that there must have been something wrong whether it be that he was still irritated from not being able to finish the art he had been working on or he was frustrated with the recording he had done so far for the album. But now that it was almost time for you to finish with your day you made your way to Chan’s studio to speak with him like he had asked you to earlier. Knocking you waited for him to let you in, your smile dropping when you took in the serious look on his face.

“Channie, what’s wrong?” you inquired sitting on the couch as he took a seat on his office chair by his desk.

“A few of us have had a few conversations this arvo” he started scratching the back of his neck “Obviously Hyunjin told Choi you were single but the rest of us don't see it that way which we realized might be a problem for you”.

“Alright, how do you see this situation then?” you countered watching his face flush slightly.

“It’s, um, a bit embarrassing actually” Chan mumbled “The agreements have always been short lived so it was exactly that a short term thing, everyone involved is single and consenting and then it ends when it ends” he explained and you nodded along remembering the conversations you had, had with him and that others regarding what was going to be expected from you and what you could expect from them. “But this agreement with you is not like the others so some of us, including myself, think of you as ours. Others think of this as a situationship, there are feelings involved but it's not definitely a dating thing and Hyunjin at least says he views you as though you are both single and consenting in a friends with benefit type relationship”.

“How much of a problem have I created?” you asked apologetically after a few moments of silence.

“You haven’t done anything” Chan assured you, smiling crookedly “It just seems some of us have caught way more feelings than the others”.

“So how does this work out then?” you sighed pragmatically, trying to keep your heart in check as much as you could “do you all need to sit down and talk it out about what you each want, or more importantly need?”.

“I think we probably do need to talk about this as a group but also once we figure this out have another conversation with you, even if it mean changing the terms of this agreement” Chan nodded seriously this crease between his brows making you feel terrible for lumping an extra helping of stress on his already burdened shoulders. You stood from the couch to move closer from him letting him decide if he was going to move his gaze to you or not. He slowly lifted his head a sad smile slipping across his handsome face, you leaned in just as slowly your lips meeting his in a far softer and more loving kiss than you had ever shared with Chan, or any of the others, as though he was reassuring you that no matter what his feelings were decided on. Leaving his studio you made your way back out to your desk to collect your things to make your way home. You guessed you also had a lot you needed to think over before the time came.

Your phone buzzing in your pocket brought you swiftly from your thoughts as back to the present Hyunjin’s name appearing in the bubble at the top of the screen, opening the message he asked if he was able to come see you this evening so you typed back a quick yes before tucking your phone back into your bag and waiting for your station to come into view.  Hyunjin was waiting for you when you got to your apartment building sitting on the wall of the walkway to the entryway door dressed in a large hoodie, cap and face mask. He would have been totally anonymous to anyone else but you knew him so well that you could recognize him from his slouched posture.

“I wasn’t expecting you so soon” you admitted catching his attention and making him look up at you.

“I’m sorry, I can come back later” he sighed, almost sadly something indistinguishable swirling in his eyes.

“Don’t be silly Hyune come up” you chuckled letting him take your hand in his and intertwine your fingers together as you made your way inside together and up to your apartment. The elevator ride to your floor was silent making you worry slightly Hyunjin was always so soft and sweet with you, except when he was fucking you into the matress, so this was a distinct change for him. Ideas began popping into your head. Maybe the recording process was stressing him out, maybe he was feeling guilty about saying you were single or perhaps he had something he was hiding from you. Letting you and him into the apartment you slipped off your shoes and walked into your kitchen to turn on the kettle.

“Make yourself at home Hyunjin, I’m just going to change” you smiled watching as he pulled out a couple of mugs before making his way to the couch and flopping down on it. You pulled on some sweats and a large shirt that one of the boys had left behind wandering back into the lounge to see that he hadn’t moved his head still leaning back against the headrest with his eyes closed.

“Do you want some tea?” you asked, walking into the kitchen and making yourself some, when he didn’t answer you made him a cup too thinking you could just pour it out if he didn’t want it. You placed his mug on the table and sat at the other end of the couch waiting for him to speak, your hot cup cradled in your hand so that you could sip it when it cooled slightly. You waited sipping silently watching him breathing peacefully until you began to think he had fallen asleep. 

“I need to talk to you about something” he finally said so quietly it was almost inaudible, his face looking almost grave for a moment.

“What happened Hyunjin?” you questioned wondering if there was an entirely separate issue that you were not aware of outside of what had happened at recording earlier in the day.

“I need to tell you something, I don’t want you to be angry or upset but I have to tell you I can’t hide it anymore” he almost pleaded with his eyes wide.

“Of course, you know you can always talk to me Hyunjin” you conceded, watching him intently now, you could notice the bluish purple hue that lingered below his eyes indicating it had been at least a few nights that he had not managed to get enough sleep.

“I want to stop the agreement” he blurted out, surprising you with how loud his voice was. “I can’t keep doing this, I can’t keep telling myself you are mine when you aren’t, I want more than just this anymore and I can’t keep hurting myself anymore”. Silence surrounded you, suffocating you slowly as Hyunjin’s eyes filled with the same tears you could feel burning within your own.

“I understand Hyune” you shuddered “I never meant to hurt you”. He finally made eye contact with you pain etched so clearly on his devine features.

“Princess, you didn’t hurt me” he reassured you, taking your hand in his and letting his thumb stroke your knuckles soothingly. “I hurt myself by falling in love with you when I knew I shouldn’t”. You smiled weakly hoping that you could hide how much his confession hurt you, you cared for him so deeply that, had he been the only one in the agreement you would have told him you loved him too.

“We can go back to being friends though right? I don’t want you to shut me out Hyune” you sniffled.

“Of course, you are still my princess” he sighed, pulling you up so he could pull you into his arms and hold you tightly. “I’d kiss you goodbye but I think that will make this worse”.

“Yeah” you nodded against his chest not letting go of him yet.

“I will see you tomorrow, I’ll let myself out” Hyunjin cleared his throat untangling the pair of you and stepping away from you, you nodded again trying to smile but failing as he left your apartment the soft click of the door and the smell of his cologne on your clothes the only thing that now remained of what you were only a few minutes ago.   Slumping back onto the chair you stared at the teacup on the table in front of you not really sure what to do other than cry for the man who loved you too much to be selfish,  your heart broke at the realization. Hours had passed and when you finally registered that your phone was ringing you realized it was your morning alarm letting you know you had to leave for work in an hour's time. Doing the only thing you could think of in your emotional haze, you texted your manager to let him know that you were unwell and needed the day to get over whatever the bug you caught was and that you would be back the following day before you curled up under the covers to hide yourself away from the world.

At about 11 the first call from Chan came in saying he hoped you felt better, that they all missed you but you needed to rest and recover, a few minutes later another message arrived from Felix worrying that you weren’t well and that if you needed he would come over and take care of you. It continued throughout the day, each of the others messaging you to see if you were alright or needed anything. It wasn't until the ninth message that you had left on read that there was a loud knocking on your front door, dragging yourself to answer, you found yourself face to face with a worried looking Minho with an arm full of shopping bags.

“Oh kitten” he soothed stepping through your front door and placing the bags down on the hallway table to pull you against him tightly kissing your hair “my poor little kitten”.

“You have your schedule Minho, what are you doing here?” you sniffled not letting go of him to try to hide the tears that welled up again at his gentleness.

“My kitten needs someone to take care of her and apparently no one else has thought to, so here I am. I come bearing soup, ice cream, medicine and cuddles to try to help you recover?” he chuckled breathily at you clinging to him so tightly. “Let's get you sitting down and I’ll get you the soup first”.

Shuffling back into your lounge while still clinging to Minho was more difficult than you imagined but he managed to steer you around furniture and other obstacles until he could place you on the couch and escape your grip to get to the kitchen to get you utensils and a bowl. Returning to you quickly he took in your puffy red eyes, miserable expression and blotchy cheeks then frowned.

“Do you want to talk about it, kitten?” He sighed his face betraying the fact that he didn’t believe you were actually sick.

“I must have caught something from another manager I guess” you lied, looking up at him hopefully, you weren’t sure you could explain that Hyunjin had severed the agreement if he hadn’t yet told the other members without causing an issue that you didn’t yet want to fully deal with.

“Do you want to try again?I thought we trusted each other kitten?” he pushed gently pouting looking down at the food he had brought for you and busying himself with that.

“I trust you Minho, I always have” you sniffed again blinking rapidly to hold the tears back. “I just…I guess… I’m too invested in this now and I’m going to end up broken” you finally stammered hugging yourself tightly.

“Kitten, I can’t help if you don’t tell me” he hushed, sitting beside you and pulling you into his arms with your head tucked under his chin rocking you gently until he could feel your hiccuping breaths refusing to stop. 

“Hyunjin doesn’t want to continue with the agreement, he said it hurts him too much and he can’t do it anymore” you admitted quietly looking up at him from where he was holding you against his chest.

“I knew he was hurting, I didn’t know he was going to do this though” he sighed, squeezing you slightly. “How about you eat something and then we can get you back into bed hmm” he reasoned, moving just enough that he could pull the bowl of soup towards you. Nodding you ate albeit reluctantly, Minho always showed his care through his actions so ensuring you had eaten and felt safe was the highest form of affection from him, you knew that so you did what you could to let him help. Taking your final mouthful he took the bowl and placed it back down before scooping you up and carrying you into your room and placing you in your bed carefully. Pulling your curtains closed he climbed in beside you pulling you back into his arms cradling you against his chest while he hummed softly fingers playing with your hair to help sooth you as much as he could.

“We all love you kitten, every single one of us, all in different ways. Hyunjin just seems to have actually fallen in love with you” Minho confessed barely above a whisper, the honest openness not lost on you. 

“He can’t be in love with me” you murmured back exhausted “he deserves better than me”. You shut your eyes again but instead of hearing whatever the next words out of Minho’s mouth you concentrated on the sound of his heartbeat letting it lull you into the sleep you so desperately needed.

Your dreams were strange one moment you were reliving the conversation in your living room Hyunjin’s face distraught as you both wept and in the next you had your back against the cushions of the couch his lips covering your exposed skin in kisses while his hand snaked into your clothes his expert fingers finding your folds and teasing them as you arched into him. It was so vivid that you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as his deft fingers began exploring your entrance. Chuckling quietly you felt yourself shake awake only to find something entirely different.

“Dreaming of Hyunjin, kitten?” Minho smirked, sinking one of his fingers into your slick entrance, the slight stretch making you mewl “I don’t mind but you seemed so sad I thought I’d help”.

“Min” you purred, lifting your head to press your lips to his, encouraging him to continue. He brought his thumb to your clit lazily rubbing tight circles to give you just enough pleasure to make you whine “please don’t tease me Min”.

“You're so pliant when you're sleepy my kitten” he grinned wickedly slowly pushing another finger into you picking up his pace as he curled them inside you massaging your velvety walls perfectly. Pressing his lips against yours once more he kissed his way down your throat enjoying the soft gasps that continued to fall from your lips only pulling his mouth from your flesh to pull your shirt up far enough to reattach himself to your chest licking and sucking his way to your now pert nipples.

“Minho” you gasped again feeling the familiar warmth coiling in your belly.

“Shhh let me love you how I want kitten” he murmured against your skin before sucking a mark into the side of your left breast knowing it would only be seen by the pair of you. “Love covering you in my marks kitten, marking you as mine” he groaned as you moaned loudly the squelch of his fingers pumping in and out of you getting louder the wetter you got. 

“I’m so close” you whined rocking your hips to meet his fingers to help fuck yourself on his digits.

“Not yet” he teased, pulling his fingers from you quickly and putting them in his mouth to suck them clean. “So sweet for me, so wet”. Pulling you up from the bed he rid you of your shirt quickly leaving you bare, your sweatpants long gone from before he even started toying with you. Effortlessly he lifted your legs to rest them on his shoulders giving his access to your arse which he started groping the soft flesh he bent forward licking a slow stripe through your now drenched folds huffing a soft laugh as you groaned loudly “Such a good kitten”.

“Minho, please” you whined, your legs now pressed to our chest, taking his cock in his hand he dragged it up and down your slit catching it against your clit and making you hiss before impaling you fully on his length.

“So fucking tight” he groaned as he began thrusting into you his deep languid thrusts letting you feel every inch of his perfect cock. His hips snapped against yours as he dropped one hand down your leg, his deft fingers circling your clit in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck Minho” you whimpered feeling the coil tightening rapidly inside you, his thrusts deep enough to hit the gummy spot inside you “Fuck”.

“That’s it kitten” he growled, speeding up his thrusts as he felt your walls fluttering around you. Your vision went blank as you felt your orgasm crash over you like white hot flames, your walls clamping around him as you shook beneath him. Fucking you through your orgasm he quickly followed you over the edge thrusting into you sloppily as he emptied himself inside you. 

“Mmmm” you hummed trying to catch your breath, Minho carefully pulled himself from you kissing your forehead as he reached for a few tissues to clean himself up before getting up and going into the bathroom to turn on the shower.

“Since it’s still not time for dinner, how about we get cleaned up and we go out to eat? I’ll call Chan and a few of us can all hang out” he suggested, not really waiting for an answer as he pulled you to the edge of the bed and helped you towards the shower.

“Is this just a ploy for shower sex?” you raised an eyebrow at him.

“No promises kitten” he smirked ushering you into the bathroom and into the warm water.

A/N: Thank you for reading as always your likes, reblogs and comments are the light in the darkness for me my loves xx

Taglist (closed): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz, @symptoms-of-moonlight, @septicrebel, @ayoitschannie, @krishastumblernow, @tangerminie, @elizalabs3, @armystay89, @septemberkisses, @stay-bi, @seolarflare, @damnyouficc, @eastleighsblog, @wohaku, @bakedlilgoonie, @roamingpolar, @tara-skyhold, @spacegirlstuff, @queenmea604, @fawnpeaks, @3rachasninja, @mrsseals16, @leeknowinggg, @hyunlixsbbygirl, @obeythemasters, @tanzen-ist-gold, @freckleboilix, @junebug032 @hellothisisprincesskitty

[vampyrial]

A World For Her Alone | Sisyphus

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13 Chapter 14 Chapter 15 Chapter 16

cw (chapter specific): child neglect, very vaguely implied forced prostitution, death, abuse, poisoning, suicide, mentions of pregnancy and childbirth, arranged marriage, infidelity

pairing: claude x fem!reader

summary: we take a brief intermission from claude's suffering to examine what the fuck is wrong with reader's family

author's note: me and my husband we're sticking together🎵

Claude lingered around your parents’ manor like a ghost after you died. In the middle of the night, every night, he found his way to your bedroom, standing at the foot of the bed you’d died in, remembering the shape your body formed in the sheets. The room still smelled of your blood and sweat, though the room had been cleaned up by the maids as soon as your body was taken out of the room. Your absence was starker than your presence. After the funeral, Diana expressed that she wanted to go home, heavily implying she would leave if he came with her but Claude was no longer beholden to her wants. He had no reason to care whether she came or went.

He was wielding grief as the knife he held up to cut deeper into himself in hope that if he only suffered enough, his hands would wash clean of your blood. But in the end, he had already decided to live, if only because he could do nothing else. Morbid thoughts plagued him, swirling around his head like unquiet spirits begging him to give in. He thought perhaps he should cause his own ruination and this time, live with it. He thought he should make for certain that both of your houses are set aflame and collapsing on top of the lot of you, to bury and burn your sycophant parents, his helplessly selfish wife and even his own child. He thought that nothing should be spared from complicity. He knew not anymore if he truly believed that it would save you, or if this was what some divine terror was willing him to do even still, but he began to long for punishment. It became catharsis, the thought of being punished.

He roamed through the house you grew up in, searching for any trace of you that survived, as if some inkling of you would help him to save what had already been lost too many times. Even so, it was automatic for him at this point, no longer even really a choice. He had no direction, only frantic need pulling him toward the doomed task. He was trying to get to the dregs of a goblet of wine which never ran dry, he kept drinking until he was sick but never satisfied, never finished.

Your parents’ manor was an eerie place, he’d always thought. Wind blew in from an opened window in the hall and the house seemed to breathe, and its hollow bones creaked softly. Despite her gentle ultimatum, Diana could not actually follow up on it, she must have known that but she believed better of him at the time and thought that everywhere she went, he would follow her like a lovestruck teenager again. There were things to be done at manor that she could not neglect as its lady even if he chose to neglect his own duties. She had come into her own as a marchioness, no longer the shy and unassuming lady that lay in bed sick day in and day out. She would not leave the territory without management though he knew she desperately wanted him to come back home. She seemed dazed to return home without her husband for that purpose, for the lament of a sister she had infinitely more right to grieve so egregiously. Even after all those years, the silly girl was only just beginning to grow aware of the disparity of marriage.

Somehow he felt it was hard for her to reconcile that she wasn’t a precious young lady anymore. Even as he was mired in a pool of half catatonic grief, she dared ask him to leave with her because she truly expected he would do so if she did. Had she not grown out of the habit of expecting to be near worshiped no matter what that her parents instilled her? He remembered how she was after your funeral, when he was sitting in the dark of a guest room. She had come to him, tried to hold him, to kiss him; believing all this would be a comfort and not a further indignity. She’d had arrogance enough to look hurt as he pulled her from him and recoiled from her touch. She must have still believed she was the cure to all ills because she was once more in a house where she was always treated as though she truly were.

He found his way to the library where you’d spent much of your life, if Felix’s word was truth. He brushed his fingers along the spines of the books, looking for the one that he left his missive in, the one Diana read and did not want understand. He searched through the categories of books that contained subjects you three would have studied together as he could not remember which particular book it was, but even after pulling all the books and flipping through the pages, he couldn't find the letter. He wondered if you had ever even set eyes on it once before Diana got to. Had it been your catalyst to run away? Had you read the note and understood that the effort of trying to be happy at his side was a fool’s errand? Was he again the cause of your downfall?

As he gave himself to thought of you, he continued looking through your family’s collection of books. It was all fairly standard and even a bit utilitarian, lacking any of the fanciful novels so beloved by many young nobles. He assumed if there were any, they’d be in Diana’s room because they’d be bought for and read by her alone. But there was something that struck him as he roamed around the shelves, his eyes scanning aimlessly for a book that looked as if it had been perhaps been misshelved. It was subtly tucked into the highest shelf but it still stood out to him eventually among droll guides, needlework books and encyclopedias emblazon with gold lettering. It was hastily bound looking more like a journal and it was worn, unlike the rich and well maintained leather of the other books and it was small, leaving a wide gap between the top of the shelf and the top of the book. Its spine did not read a title.

When he pulled the book, he understood what it was. Its title read “The Princess and The Knight,” signifying it was some common, tawdry romance novella. Still, he began to read it, the absurdity of its place in a house so heavy and serious intriguing him. Could this book have belonged to you? Could it have been an escape for you who was locked firmly out of girlhood when you were only just betrothed? When he’d read the title, his mind flashed with the memory of your face as Felix’s body fell into the dirt in front of you. He remembered how fiercely Felix had protected you even in this life. The rage and grief in his voice when he came for retribution. Though he knew you were ever dutiful and if there was love between you and Felix, it was never more than courtly, maybe you had seen this book and it had reminded you of some place where it could be more.

The story revolved around the love affair of a princess from a bloodline with an affinity for magic fleeing her country at wartime and being assigned a knight from the neighboring kingdom she sought refuge in. The two began a passionate and sanguine love affair in secret, all while living under of the tension of war and the threat of both of them losing everything to their love. But when the war was won, thanks in part to the wits of the two characters, and peace spread over the kingdom, she and her knight were able to be wed and live happily ever after. He had been searching for you in the pages, interpreting the knight and the princess, looking for traces of a love you might have had once. He had been looking for you so closely in every word that he hadn’t realized the grander scale of things until the end; when he flipped over the last page to read the epilogue, on the blank side of the page he saw a sketch. 

The drawing was finely, intricately done in ink and resembled…Diana. The owner of this book had drawn Diana so vividly, yet there were a few differences in the likenesses of the two. This woman had long spools of curly hair spilling over her shoulders and a mole near her gently smiling lips. She was older than Diana must have been when the book was written. She looked like the heroine that had been described in the novel. For some reason, he found himself fixated not in awe or admiration but in mind numbing shock. He could feel the love that went into each stroke of the pen and a knot formed in his stomach the longer he stared. It was uncanny in a house like this, to find anything that should mark vulnerability or simple folly. He recalled an occasion where your father had gifted her a portrait he’d made of her and their daughter. Though two different mediums, the style looked so similar. From what Claude saw, it seemed that your father seldom made art of anyone but Diana. Your father surely had not been so passionate about a throwaway romance that he had ignored his bias and poured so much love into an image of the heroine.

The only one who could be so brazen as to have a romance novel among his books wherein which they lovingly drew an almost intimate image of a woman, worn with the spine slightly bent from being handled so many times— not even properly hidden away, would be your father. Your father who paraded his illegitimate child, born from a mistress. The revelation gave him pause. What did Claude truly know about Diana? He couldn’t remember having ever asked her if she’d known her mother because she so resolutely accepted the countess as her only mother. But this woman sketched onto the page of a well loved romance, was this her mother? She looked as if she could be. Portraits of Diana hung in exposed parts of the house, he did not seem to care that the custom of having an illegitimate child was to have them separate from one’s “official” family, to not love a child born of one’s own lust so openly. Even if one had a particular love of their mistress and child, he would simply put them up in a nice mansion close enough for him to come and go but your father had your mother raising his illegitimate child. He celebrated her birthdays lavishly and even allowed her to go to the academy. He absolutely refused to hide her, to show shame in her. So why was this woman Claude presumed to be Diana’s mother who was clearly beloved by him even now, shut up in the back of a romance novella?

A thought occurred to him then, that perhaps the otherworldly force pulling him into Diana, entangling him in her was not otherworldly at all. Perhaps it had not originated in him alone as some primordial curse formed around him before there even was a him. He thought of just how besotted he was with Diana the first time he met her in each life, how the greater part of him felt foreign. He thought of your mother’s unusually devoted love for a child that wasn’t her’s, a product of her husband’s disloyalty. Something inside him thought that the answer lay at Diana’s feet. In her very blood, he was convinced, was the answer. 

Such a tenderly written romance, signed with a carefully drawn illustration of the woman who could be Diana’s mother. The part of “The Princess and The Knight” which struck him so was the bit about the princess possessing capacity for magic. It was not mentioned much nor utilized greatly in the plot but it made an impression. Magic users had decreased over the years, their powers waning until they were unheard of entirely. To anyone else who read the novella, it must have given the story to a bit of fantasy but to Claude, it was almost uncanny. He could not take it for an unassuming romance. To him, the story hid some truth under its veneer, for it was no coincidence that the princess resembled Diana so and that it ended up under the same roof as her, worn with years of eager hands flipping back over the pages. The princess’ power was never described in detail but if she were based on a real woman, then perhaps she had something to do with his situation.

He might’ve gone to Diana right then for answers but he feared his body might be taken over again at any time. He did not want to see her, did not want to feel the familiar paralysis of affection reaching up through his body. He did not want to see himself bed her again while the memory stood frozen in his eyes. Each time he saw her after he’d been set free, he’d worried that it would happen again. That his body would betray his mind and he’d never find anything of substance to end the cycle of misery the two of you shared. And he was committed to the task of trying, even if he could never succeed. He was ready to succumb to the greater sense of careworn madness he found in you.

He decided to explore the unattended corners of your home further, thinking there would be— must be more. If ever Diana’s mother had lived here, someone left a trace that he intended to find. He might’ve asked your father directly but as much as he was a lickspittle, something told him that your father would be afflicted by the same paralysis of mind that he had when he belonged to Diana. Unable to share the love he held for her but unable to hide it either, culminating in a pathetic sort of half-baked defensiveness. He wasn’t likely to get anything out of that, even you hadn’t been able to get anything out of him when he was like that. Worse still, he might try to cover up all that he kept that ever indicated Diana’s mother had lived there once, that she had a name and a face. And then what?

No, it was better this way. Better to find it all before he got the chance to hide any of it.

Your parents were still in the house, seemingly without intention of asking him when he was going to leave but there was still a bit of anxiety in the air when they entered the room. He could tell that they very much wished for him to return to their daughter and make her happy again as she was destined to be. It was awkward that their son-in-law had a longer bereavement than your sister did. But still being the cowardly sycophants they were, they could not ask him to leave for her sake—only “encourage” him by tossing out little updates on Diana. “Diana and our grandchild miss you very much,” “Diana takes ill so easily when she works so hard, we should hope you’ll be well enough to go back to her soon,” “Diana sends her love and wants you to know she’s there for your sake.”

Claude wouldn’t care if Diana’s life hung by a thread and he was all that could spare her, frankly and he brushed off all responsibility in favor of giving himself to his task. It was shameless, he knew, but he’d given up everything inside of the barren, hollow shell of his self to save you. It was a task that had already and would yet again supersede death, birth and the enveloping void he fell backward into each time his life was ended. He waited until they inevitably visited Diana, likely to calm her worries with lukewarm supplications about his grief, to go searching in the other parts of the house uninhibited. For, even if the servants were to tell their lord and lady, he’d already have looked through every corner he intended before they’d have a chance to move things around to better hide them.

He started with Diana’s old room. When he walked in, he was surprised to find it was left exactly as childish as it had been when she was only a young miss. Just the scent of the air turned his stomach, heavy and cloying with a pungent smell of medicine that was still sitting on her night stand in a small white bottle. He frowned as something fell clumsily into place. It hit him like the stray sour note of a violin. He recognized the bottle. Where did he last see this bottle?

For how preoccupied he was with the revelation taking slow form, he did not realize that Felix had entered the room until he heard the distinctive sound of a sword unsheathed. He did not turn.

“Felix.”

“Lord Claude,” Felix acknowledged, his voice struggling to keep its softness. “I might’ve known you’d be here. You truly cannot help yourself, it’s like a sickness.”

“Yes, it is very much like that,” Claude agreed easily. “But I’m not here for what you imagine I am.”

“I’m not so sure it matters, my lord.” Felix’s voice was flat.

“Nor am I. But I need you to let me live just as long as it takes for me to make sense of this.”

Felix went quiet for a moment but nothing about the situation made Claude think it was because the knight was going to hesitate. On the contrary, he was sure that his sword would swing just as neatly. “Do you know where I found my lady chained up, my lord? There are places, you know, that they bring women who had no other place to turn. You must know. You were at her side every night when we brought her back, you saw what toll it took. You saw what had been done.” Felix took a shallow breath. “You’re asking me to spare you so that you can make sense of whatever it is your farce of a marriage is built on? When my lady was given no such pardon? I know you’re the head of your house now, honored knight of the crown and you must think yourself above your treatment of others but I assure you, this will be the last time you ever assume so.”

Claude held still, his voice firm even as fear raged through his body. It was not fear for his life or of Felix’s wrath, it was the fear of failing, yet again, to make any movement in saving you. “I know how you think of me, Felix. I know that I have failed my wife. I know that I deserve to die here and now but even so, I can’t.”

“That is no problem, I’ll do it for you.”

Claude smiled joylessly to himself at the devout knight’s words. How could you have been judged so harshly in that life for wanting to run away with him when he so clearly had a loyalty akin to love for you? “You don’t understand. You cannot possibly. But answer me this, do you know who Diana’s mother is?”

The question puzzled Felix but he stood resolutely, ready at any moment to fell Claude’s head. “Everyone else in this household has care for Lady Diana. My duty was to serve my lady, I was the only one and I did not ever lapse. You’re asking the wrong person.”

“Felix, I do not ask for my wife’s sake. I know how this will sound but I’m trying to find out just what exactly it is that Diana holds over me and everyone else. I’m trying to figure out what exactly she is. You have seen it, haven’t you? The disparity between how people treat my wife and how they treat your lady. Do you think it natural to love a daughter born from an affair more than one’s own?”

He heard Felix laugh bitterly. “You believe her to be a succubus? Is that your excuse?”

“No. I believe her to be something worse.” Claude laughed as well, though his was more hysterical than anything. “She rules everything, Felix. Even in death. No, especially so in death. I have lived this life many times. I have died and returned back to the day that I first met her at the tea party. And when I do, I am taken over by her. It feels like love at first, it really does. But then intrusion. And then a curse. It is a cycle of death and resurrection, for myself and for the lady.”

Felix was silent and Claude continued on. “In one such life, she ran away with you, you know. It was raining the night we found you two. You were holed up in some abandoned cottage out there in the countryside, the one with the patches of white clover in the yard and a missing shingle on the roof.”

“What are you saying?” Felix’s voice wavered with near disbelief at the picture he painted but he held firm.

“My knights killed you where you stood and took the lady back to my manor. Your betrothed visited her. She had asked to speak to the woman who had been responsible for your death. She told me you two had planned to get married once the lady and I were finally married and settled in. She could not even mourn you properly because you were compelled to run away with the lady and killed.”

It is clear that Felix still thought Claude had lost his mind but what shocked him was the truth seeded into his madness. How could he have known the intimate arrangements of their betrothal and marriage when even their families had not known the cause for delay? This was not knowledge he could send an errand boy to fetch him nor an illusion he couldn’t hope to keep up, this was lived. It was memory.

“What does that have to do with Diana?” Diana was more likely a seductress than a sorceress in Felix’s opinion. Such a thing as a time loop, how could a girl so weak and childish create something like it?

Claude turned slightly, slowly toward him. “I don’t know yet myself. That is what I seek to find out. So that I can perhaps end it, for the lady at least. I don’t need anything Felix, not Diana, not my child, not my house. All I need and want is for the lady to stop suffering. I only beg you not to hinder me. When the time comes, I swear I will die on my own.”

Felix had no idea what to make of it all. Much of what Claude said seemed stilted, frantic and half thought. Yet he could not help but feel there was a certain sincerity to be had even in the worthlessness of Claude’s promise. And in any case, he was not entirely unfamiliar with the concept that Claude explained but all that it implied, he was not ready to believe. He sheathed his sword again finally and Claude turned to face him with the medicine bottle in hand. “Have you any idea why this would be in Diana’s room? It’s medicine that the lady took before.”

Felix’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. “It’s used to treat severe infection. It’s not supposed to be used by just anyone who gets ill. Lady Diana should not have needed that medicine, it would take effect like poison if not administered to someone battling a harsh infection. The doctor sent one of the servants to fetch it in town.”

“Yes, but this bottle is dusty, it’s mostly emptied out and the liquid inside it has congealed. It’s been sitting here for years. The medicine inside is aromatic. It has a distinct smell, doesn’t it? The lady’s room still reeks of it even with the windows opened up. Every time I went into Diana’s room when we were young, I smelled it, I tasted it. That means she was not only taking medicine she did not need but taking it regularly.” Claude said aloud, more to himself than to Felix who had bristled at the way he implied he and Diana were. “Was she…ever even sick?”

“Of course she was. Perhaps madame gave her the wrong medicine. She would not have poisoned herself, far be it from me to defend her but she did not desire to be sick. She seemed to envy the lady for her health, as she saw it.”

“…it was the lady’s mother who administered this medicine?” Claude questioned as new pieces fell together in his mind.

“I only know that the madame came to Lady Diana before bed to give her medicine. I do not know that it was that medicine, I did not see it.” Felix paused. “What is the significance, my lord?” He asked, annoyance creeping into his tone at the extensive talk of Diana.

“I intend to find out.”

He had wished to creep into the madame’s bedroom quickly and easily but the door was locked so they’d needed to fetch the key. Claude was shocked at the amount of sway he had over the servants of a house he was not a part of for the head maid simply handed over the key when he asked for it, albeit hesitantly as though she thought she might be scolded for doing so. When he took in the room, it was tidy and rather plain by aristocracy standards. The room seemed to have a chill about it, there was a draft somewhere that made it feel colder than the other rooms.

He began to pick carefully through her things, looking in every corner of the room for anything hidden. It was all mundane, droll and typical until he reached the last drawer of a dresser that was locked. Sure enough, nine bottles of unopened medicine neatly lined into rows of three. When he tried to pull the drawer out all the way and see what more he could find, it was caught on something that had been pressed against the top. Claude reached in to feel for it and pulled down what looked to be a simple leather bound, worn and yellowing journal.

Immediately he began to read. He was a bit startled at himself when he realized that he was eager to read the contents of his mother-in-law’s mind. He wanted to know how she saw you. How she justified treating you the way she did to uplift a child that was not her’s. A pitiful part of him just wanted there to be reason. He wanted cause for the rift in the relationship. He needed to believe there was a because to your suffering.

But what he read was not as he suspected. In neat, small lettering on the first page, it chronicled her life back to when she had been perhaps 19 years old but it was dated some ten years later. A reflection on her younger self written seemingly less as a journal and more a memoir.

“The princess had always been so gracious a mistress that even her tasks sounded like gifts.

When it was her time to return to her duties in her own kingdom, she resigned to it with great grace. However, she understood that the opposite would be true of her beloved knight. This fragile man only smiled in her company, protected her with wild fervor and once told her that he felt divinely guided to her. That to him, she was the symbol of god’s forgiveness and in serving her, loving her, he saw his life’s purpose. Oh, the princess lamented to me how dark a life her knight had lived, how the blood he shed as a knight haunted him with guilt. How his father had been of a violent sort in his efforts to transform his only living child into a knight of some worth to bring more prestige to their house and in his efforts to vent his own turmoil over his wife taking up with men of far more money, status and legacy than he. Her knight resembled his mother and so became the target of the ire he could not give his wife for the great protection being a mistress to such men afforded her. His mother knew what his father did, she did not care so long as it were not her. My heart came to soften for him too, the more she told me.

He had been a quiet man, shy and quite unknowingly sweet for his reputation as a ruthlessly skilled knight. He opened up to my princess like a flower toward the sun. He loved her so madly that she knew even though it was inevitable, he never intended to be where he could not protect her and stand at her side. The princess feared that their duties as princess and heir to a county respectively would give way to the knight’s devotion. She feared he’d kill himself trying to reunite with her or simply deteriorate under the burden of his own isolation but her own life was dedicated to more than just one person. It was her nation, her home of people waiting to see her return that she could not abandon. So in her stead, she asked me to stay in the kingdom and marry him. To give him a countess and to keep watch of him for anything he might do to interfere in both their duties.

It was a great honor she had given me entrusting someone so precious to me and given me a title higher than that I had been born with, I still feel that way now but I was foolish then and I did not understand the nature of what I was being asked to do. Nor would I until after it was already done.

You see (and it does, still pain me to even write such a silly thing), I did, at the time believe that I would become close to my husband. I viewed it as a matter of course, for I was far from a home I could never return to and he had no one. We were, for each other, the last traces of the princess. Though I could never think to hope for the kind of love that he gave to the princess, I believed that commonality could be nurtured into love or kinship. I wished for someone to turn to as my heart was sinking faster than a stone the longer I spent from my home. I believed it would happen. I believed he would become someone to lean on.

Though the first months of our marriage were cold, I managed to coax him into trying to have children as was our duty. I saw this as progress both in the way of our relationship as well as keeping him from the princess. I viewed even our coldness then as a sign of something beginning. It was only once, afterward, I think he worked very hard so that I would not ask him to do it again. But even so, I found that I was with child soon. I was a stupid girl then, I believed a child was what we needed to grow closer. I brought this news to him with a smile, I must have looked like an idiot.

My husband’s expression, I can never forget it. He was horrified at this revelation. He looked at me as though I’d announced a death. He looked at me as though I had wounded him. Then his beautiful eyes sparkled with unshed tears and his expression reverted to a weak, helpless smile as he said all the right things in his wavering voice.

It was then that I realized he would never love me. He was horrified at having a child with me, it was sheer terror and dread on his face when I told him. Perhaps he thought that I would not become pregnant at all, he would have preferred it that way. I hadn’t the relationship with him to truly comfort him, to know intimately what he feared about my child. I was useless in that way.

Through the following months, my apprehension was near unbearable. I kept feeling my stomach sink in dread, I kept waking up thinking that I would be home. I kept thinking that I had done something irreparable but I could think of nothing which was actually within my control. Therefore, when I finally gave birth, my relief that it was done with was greater than my joy. But that was alright with me because I had intended to deal with things in my own way."

From there, she went on to describe her rigid attention to being a diligent countess for a few droll pages. But at last, Claude came to another thing of significance. Your father had been summoned to court for political matters regarding the civil unrest which had not been quelled with the end of the war. Your mother could not follow him and leave a newborn alone so she had no choice but to simply trust in your father. She would come to regret that.

"My princess appeared like a bolt out of the blue months later. She was dressed as a peasant and had a somewhat bashful smile on her lips. Although I had missed her, all that I could think in seeing her was, "She should not be here."

But we brought her to the study so that presumably, she would tell us why she had returned when she had surely sworn that she could not. She took off her cloak and then I understood without her needing to tell me. I saw a little bump on her otherwise thin body and I was overcome. When my husband had returned to court, he had not been officially permitted to see my princess but they had met anyway and she was now with child. She had waited until she was just about to start beginning to show in order to take leave from court on the pretense of recovering from illness at her villa in the countryside.

I had been given the task of minding him but I had clearly failed. I should have gone with him no matter what. I should have taken the chance and left my child so that I could have prevented this. But my princess looked at me as faultless and took my hands in hers to assure me that she regretted nothing. She comforted my husband who apparently also knew nothing about this pregnancy until then. She knew his fears like the back of her hand, she knew exactly how to soothe them as I hadn't. He did not even have to speak. She simply knew.

Until then, I had not known that my husband dreaded having children for fear they would be cursed and afflicted with the same moral decay that his own parents had; and because he feared that having a child would bring the same thing out of him. Even if I had known, the princess was the perfect one to comfort him. She asked him if he believed a child born of her could be wicked and of course, he said no. She spun such sugary images of their child together for him with her eyes shining with joy. She told him that their child was special, that she did not fear him becoming a parent like his own because their child would change everything about being a father for him. It surely helped that my princess was glowing as she said such things, that the excitement radiating off of her grew stronger with each passing moment. He could not deny her, could not bring himself to contradict her words because he would always believe in her even if he did not believe in himself.

It went unsaid that the princess would be entrusting the child to the both of us. I had much apprehension about taking care of two babies rather than one and the secrets to be kept piling up above me but I could not complain, it had been my job for years to make everything work. I could not stop then when my princess needed me most. In any case, her presence in the manor brought life to a place that had become so eerie to me. She was the only flame in the dark and we were huddled around her, trying to preserve an ounce of warmth within ourselves. She was joyful through her pregnancy, she could not stop talking about the baby she was to have. The more she chattered, the more excited I became too as though I had any right to be. This was true of my husband too, who tentatively felt the kicks of his child and smiled, genuinely smiled as the princess did. I could see that he loved that child.

She slept in the master bedroom with him, after he left each day, I went in to help her get ready for the day. It was though I was still her maid and I suppose I wanted to be, would rather be that than a wife. But I could not bring myself to complain. I was not unlike my husband, I viewed my duties to the princess as somewhat sacred. I was as honored as I was anxious to raise the child.

On the day Diana was born, my husband was at my princess' side the entire time, as though he could protect her as her knight again. I could only marvel at him. When I had given birth, he stood at the foot of the bed stiffly and asked me what I intended to name our daughter, if I was alright and then told me that if I needed anything to have the butler prepare it at once. After Diana was born, my princess was still beautiful, perhaps even more so in her vulnerability. She held the most beautiful baby I had ever seen, close to her chest as my husband looked down at the both of them with sheer joy. It was as though all the happiness in the world existed between those three. My Diana had been born out of love and so it was easy to love her.

I left my own daughter to the maids in favor of caring for Diana when the princess rested. Her little ruby eyes and her head of soft blonde hair captivated me. Each coo or cry had my focus in a fraction of a second.

I had not yet considered the greater implications of her birth until my princess brought it to me. Diana had been born with an inordinate affinity for magic. The princess, as a member of the royal family had the capacity of a mage, it was kept secret through the death of magic that through her bloodline were those capable of miracles. I only knew after years of my proximity to the princess. This child, born in the time of civil unrest, when the queen had not yet been blessed with a child and the civil war had still bitterly divided the houses, was capable of being seen as a potential figurehead that could be used as a pawn in a new round of rebellion.

It was for me and my husband to put her above all things. Above even our own child. That, to me, went without saying for I did love Diana as my own daughter. But the princess knew that anything could happen and she used all of the strength of her magic to cast a spell over her that would be held with Diana's own great magic. My princess nearly expended all her energy to do so. Magic, she had once told me, was seen as a weak form of power because it relied so greatly upon emotion. It was the transformation of want into will. I knew not the details of the spell which bound my mistress' daughter. All my princess said was that her precious Diana would live happily, that for all the odds against her, she still had odds in her favor."

Claude felt numb as he turned the pages. He was in shock, suddenly the environment of the room felt too harsh and stimulating but he was glued to the journal. He could not dare stop reading it no matter what truths arose. So he flipped the page and read every single entry even as his hands trembled.

From then on, it was Diana, Diana, Diana. With each entry, she recorded a measurement which he assumed was the amount of medicine administered and her symptoms. She fretted over whether it was right to give her more or to give her less. She wrote about denying Diana's requests to go outside, to go to the theatre, to do much of anything besides stay in bed. It chilled him to the bone but more than that, perplexed him. He was staring at a page where your mother had seemed to write sloppily, hurried and anxious when he heard a voice.

"Lord Claude?" It was your mother, standing in the doorway.

He looked slowly up at her, at a loss for words and unable to reconcile the cold mother she was to you with her joy at being Diana's proxy mother. Unable, still, to understand why she was poisoning the daughter she loved so much.

"My lord, you should not be in here," she said softly but in her blank expression, it was apparent that she knew what he was there for. "It will look strange to others, for you to do something like this."

"You poisoned Diana," He was keenly aware of how delicately she was trying to dance around this subject but he was unwilling to indulge her.

Your mother did not even blink. "You must understand me, Lord Claude. Please understand."

"What is there to understand? You neglect your own daughter and fawn over your husband's illegitimate daughter only to poison her."

Your mother shook her head slowly as if she could not believe what he was implying. "I love that girl," she said, moving deeper into the room and shutting the door behind her. "Diana is my little princess. She is my only daughter."

A rush of rage ran up his body, carrying an unbearable desire to hurt her. "She's not your daughter at all. She's the daughter of a woman far more beloved than you."

But your mother could only smile helplessly. "Yes, but even so, she is my daughter in heart. You must trust me when I say that Diana was hopeless before."

"Hopeless?" His brow furrowed and a cold feeling creeped up his back, extinguishing his fury and replacing it with a kind of fear for the woman in front of him. "She wasn't hopeless, she was able to wed me, to live happily." He said it not as a defense of her but as an accusation.

"That poor girl. In the first place, she already had a weak constitution, because her magic was stronger than her body but it was the perfect excuse to keep inside and away from the eyes of those who would want to hurt her. But it was my eldest daughter who kept planting false hope in her. She even sent Diana before my husband to beg him to let her go to the academy because she knew very well he could not say no to her." There was venom in her voice, a sneer on her face. Claude rose to stand slowly, not knowing what he was going to do.

"He cannot say no to Diana because he loves her so, no, he loves her mother so," she sighed. "All the other one did was cause troubles. Diana had already given up but she roused such hope in the girl, false hope, cruel hope. If she had not been able to marry you...I do not know how we would have protected her. If my daughter was still alive, everything would be ruined. It was you who saved her, my lord. That is why I beg of you, don't judge me. You know that Diana is special. You must know."

"I did not want to save her, she did not need to be saved."

She remained with that pitiful smile on her face. "My husband is weak to her. He will...he will never forgive what I've done to our- his little princess. He won't understand. He will think that I have killed my princess. You know, he almost sees them as one in the same." She reached onto her desk, picking up a letter opener. "Diana will be hurt if she knows. I ask that you let the girl live her life believing as I told her. She deserves that much. I let her believe what I did because it was in her best interest. Please take care of her."

Before he could react, your mother plunged the sharp end of the letter opener into her throat.

Next

tags: @kage-tobiuo@kreishin @rosephantomhive@yeahdrarry@splaterparty0-0 @dear-dairiesss @qluvrv @hafsuhhh @eissaaaa @ayolk @doan-19 @fourcefulcupid@ariachaos@cerisearan@irisspade@yaesflorist@jcrml@xiaosprettygf@yevenly@amaris08atoshi012022 @obsessed-with-a-fictional-man @softbummiee@cassanderasblog @waka-babe @bananatwirl@s1mp69 @mitsuyamistress @hottiewifeyyyy @reiko69 @syyyy4ever @pinkpastel-l @dododododooosworld @gwyneveire @mvoonxlightv @noisyenthusiastface @coldpeachkitten @brightykitten @worstliving

[starryevermore]

the house of snow (8) ✧ coriolanus snow

the house of snow ✧ a royal coryo au | pinterest board| ao3

pairing: king!coriolanus snow x fem!reader

series summary: the king of panem is in search of a bride. and, for reasons you can never understand, coriolanus snow has set his sights on you. it would never be a happy marriage, you’re sure of that. but none of that matters, because when snow decides he wants something, he will do everything in his power to ensure it is his. 

chapter summary: sejanus crosses a line. 

word count: 5,961

series warnings?: 18+ MINORS DNI, royal au, regency au, arranged marriage, rivals to lovers, obsessive!coryo, jealous!coryo, protective!coryo, eventual smut, eventual pregnancy, more tags to be added later

chapter warnings?: scheming sejanus, jealous!coryo, angry!coryo, arguing, threats of execution, pet name (petal), not proofread

Thank you for the invitation. Though it was signed by Coryo, I imagine that you are the one who advocated for my presence at tonight’s opera. I appreciate that you hold our friendship in such high regard. That is why I write to you now. Ma has already confirmed our attendance for tonight, but I was hoping that I might be able to speak to you in private. During intermission, please meet me—

A knock at your door startled you out of your thoughts. 

“Are you nearly ready?” your father asked from the other side of your door. 

“Just a moment more!” you called out, hurrying to return the letter to its envelope. You rose from your seat at the vanity, sparing a glance at your reflection to ensure nothing was out of place, before tucking the letter in your trunk at the end of your bed. 

When you reached your door, you took a breath. Your father was a perceptive man. If he saw your nerves were jumbled, he would have questions and you could not handle questions at this moment. 

Your father smiled as you opened the door. Then he frowned, glancing around the room behind you. “Where is your lady’s maid?”

“I dismissed her after I finished getting ready. I wanted some time to go through my correspondence.” It was perhaps best to tell the truth in that regard. What your father didn’t need to know what that you were just reading the one letter, over and over and over again, trying to surmise if it was real, if there was a trick being played against you. 

“I should hope you were not writing any replies. The last thing you need is to get ink everywhere.”

“No, Papa, I was only reading them and sorting out which ones needed to be replied to first.” Well, that was a lie. But it was harmless enough. You hoped. 

When you received Sejanus’s letter in the mail, it confused you. You were never the sort of friends that wrote to each other. It certainly would have been presumptuous if you had. But when you read the contents of the letter, learned of his proposed plan, it only served to confuse you further. You had spent the entire day reading the letter as your lady’s maid pinned your hair into an elaborate updo, applied your makeup, and even as you dressed. You were half sure that if you read it enough times, Sejanus himself might materialize to tell you it was all just a clever joke. That he didn’t really mean it. You knew Sejanus well enough, though, to know that he was quite serious about these sorts of things. 

Your father nodded, then extended his arm for you to take. You slipped your hand around his arm and allowed him to guide you downstairs. He was silent for a moment while you walked, but when he reached the top of the stairs, he stopped. 

“Is there something wrong?” you asked. Had he already caught on to your ruse? Would he demand to see the letters and know that there was only one? Would he tell Snow? 

“I wanted to thank you for your cooperation,” he said. “I know this match was not what you hoped it to be, but I swore when you were born that I would do everything in my power to ensure that you are taken care of for life. You may not have gotten the love match you wished for, but you will be marrying into a reputable family with the resources available to provide you the best life imaginable. His Majesty will take care of you. He will be a good husband to you.”

“You cannot possibly know that.”

He sniffed, then conceded, “No, I suppose I don’t. But His Majesty was incredibly persistent. He had been asking for your hand for some time—”

“What?”

He blinked, as if he was surprised you didn’t know. But how could you? How could you have known? “When you graduated from the Academy, he asked for your hand. I suppose he hoped for you to join him on base while he served as a Peacekeeper. That certainly wouldn’t have been an appropriate life for you, so I told him no. Then when he returned, he asked again. I told him I wished to see him prove himself to be a worthy husband for you. I never imagined that he would become King, of course, but it was a pleasant surprise. A welcome one, really, all things considered. Just before the season began this year, he asked again. I had no reason to tell him no, except that I wished for him to properly court you before we reached any firm agreement.”

You did the math in your head. If what your father said was true… “I’m four and twenty. If he has been asking since I graduated, then he has wanted to marry me for five years.”

“Longer, I presume. He already had a ring when he asked for your hand the first time.” He looked down at your hand. “The same one, if memory serves well. Cleaner, though.”

That…You didn’t know what to do with that. How long had Snow been vying for your attention? Even with Sejanus’s revelation that Snow’s feelings for you had been genuine, you assumed it was a recent development. Certainly not something that extended back to your schooldays. Had the bickering always been one-sided? No, that couldn’t be…

“We hated each other in school. We tormented each other,” you said, more to yourself than your father. 

But he laughed as if you spoke to him. “Sometimes, boys are mean to the girls they are interested in. Any attention is better than no attention, in their eyes.”

“I don’t know what to do with this,” you admitted. 

“Know that you will be loved. I have never seen any man be so dedicated to something, someone, for it not to be done out of love.”

Downstairs, the butler announced Snow’s arrival. Snow entered the room, his blue eyes immediately finding yours. Your father moved to start down the stairs, but you remained planted firmly in place. A question nagged at your mind. If Snow had been asking for your hand for five years…

“Why did you act like I had to convince Snow to marry me when the season started? If you all but promised him my hand?”

His eyebrows raised. “My little dove, you have never done what you were told. If I said that you were to be wed to His Majesty, you would have all but runaway to avoid it.”

“But why act like it was my responsibility to get his attention? To throw myself at his feet when he already wanted to marry me?”

He was silent for a moment, contemplating his words. Finally, he settled on, “If you thought that you were serving your family by pursuing His Majesty, I had hoped that you would have seen his intentions were pure and good. It might not have been a love match in the traditional sense, but it would not have been a loveless arrangement.”

Nothing, you thought, about Snow was pure and good. “My fate was already set in stone. It didn’t matter what I did, you would have married me off regardless.”

“Don’t put it like that, little dove—”

You dropped your father’s arm, gathered your skirts, and walked down the stairs alone as Snow moved to wait for you at the bottom. A smile grew on his face as he watched you. It looked so genuine. You supposed it was. 

Snow held his arm out to you as you reached the last few steps. You slipped your hand into his, letting him guide you down the final steps, before holding onto his bicep when you reached the ground floor.

“I like that color on you,” he said, eyeing the blue fabric. 

“You should. It took Tigris hours to find the shade closest to your eyes.” Your mother was insistent that, as the future Queen, you should build your wardrobe to complement your future husband as much as possible. 

“I shall send her my compliments then. Are you ready to leave?”

You nodded. 

“Good. We shall be riding alone this evening. Will that be alright?”

It wouldn’t have mattered if it did. Everyone else in your life was making decisions for you. Choosing what was best for you without ever asking what you wanted. What you desired. But you were angry at your father. Angry at both of your parents, because you were sure your mother knew something about this, too. Angry that they both would keep this from you instead of just telling you that you were to marry the King. You might have respected their decision more if they had. 

“I should kill my parents if I have to spend a moment with them tonight.”

Snow blinked. “Should I be concerned?”

“If you value your life, then you shouldn’t be.”

At that, Snow let out a huff of a laugh. “To kill the King would be treason.”

“Is a threat worth the same weight?”

“I would imagine so.”

“Then string me up at the gallows.”

He shook his head at you. He looked amused, like he didn’t take your words seriously. He probably thought you were just bickering to get on his nerves like you always did. “I would make an exception for you, petal.”

You turned your head, looking back up at your father, who still stood at the top of the stairs, dumbfounded. You turned back to Snow. “I wouldn’t kill you, for what it’s worth. As it turns out, you are the only person who has been honest with me recently.”

A frown settled on Snow’s face. “Is everything alright?”

You rolled your tongue over your teeth, contemplating whether you should tell him or not. It would be nice to vent, even to someone like Snow. But you didn’t wish to do it in front of your father, the source of your ire. And you weren’t sure you wouldn’t cry if you did talk about it. “I don’t wish to ruin my evening any further. Shall we go?”

Snow looked you over. Seeing nothing that would demand his immediate concern, he said, “We shall. But if you change your mind…”

“I will tell you if I do.”

The ride to the opera house was quiet. You weren’t sure if Snow was silent because he was giving you the space you asked for, or if he was concerned that your ire might soon turn on him. But he held your hand the entire time, his thumb stroking over your knuckles. Ordinarily, you would have been annoyed at the action. It was merely another way for Snow to exert a level of control over you. This time, however, it brought you some modicum of comfort. 

“I invited the Plinths per your request,” he murmured.

That should have lifted your spirts, but it only made your stomach churn. You couldn’t let Snow know that, of course. As hard as you fought for the Plinths’ presence, he would be less than pleased if you revealed you wished he hadn’t extended the invitation. “Thank you.” You squeezed his hand, more for your comfort than his own. “I appreciate that.”

Even if you didn’t appreciate it in the moment, you probably would appreciate his willingness to abide by your wishes in the future (though, you supposed you did have to coerce him to do it). 

Snow smiled and squeezed your hand back. “And I appreciate your vivaciousness. Even if it makes me want to pull my hair out.”

“That would be a shame,” you said before you could really think. 

“What?”

Well, you already got this far. You might as well finish the thought. “The nicest part about you is your hair. If you pulled it all out, you wouldn’t have anything going for you.”

Snow laughed—a genuine laugh. “If my hair is the key to gaining your affections, then I shall be sure to not pull it out.”

You laughed, too. It was…odd. How light you felt with Snow now. Though you still objected to how he asked for your hand, how your father gave you no choice in this matter, it was different knowing that Snow might not be doing all of this as some way to spite you. To get back at you for all the fights you had with him over the years.

The pit in your stomach burrowed deeper. If Snow found out about Sejanus’s letter, Sejanus’s plan, you could not imagine it ending well. Any semblance of goodwill he held for you could be ruined in a matter of minutes. Would you be set up for a miserable marriage if you withheld the information from him? 

“Snow, I—”

The carriage lurched to a halt. Your words died in your throat as the door opened. Snow stepped out first, then held a hand out for you to take. He helped you out of the carriage, his hands settling on your waist as you gained your footing. Your breath caught in your throat at the feeling. 

As you moved to take Snow’s arm, he asked, “Would you like to wait for your parents or would you like to go our seats?”

You glanced back, seeing your family carriage in the distance. The idea of seeing your father again made you grind your teeth together. “Let’s go inside.”

Snow led you to one of the Lord’s Rooms where you would sit in the upper balcony of the opera house. It had been some years since you had been able to sit in one of the Lord’s Rooms. Since your time at the Academy, you supposed. These seats were saved for the upper echelon of the Capital’s elite. While your parents certainly were wealthy and titled, they could not quite afford such expensive seats. Truthfully, for a long time after the war ended, only the King and some dukes could afford it. It was only in recent years that marquesses, earls, and viscounts could begin sitting there again. 

You took a seat front and center of the Lord’s Room, Snow taking the seat to your left. A smile tugged at his face as you tried to not let your jaw fall slack. 

“Are you pleased with the seats, petal?” he asked. 

“It’s perfect,” you admitted, because it was. 

When you looked over at him, his smile had grown, his chest ever so slightly puffed out. Oh, he was proud of himself for this. You supposed he should be. If he had been vying for your attention for as long as your father insinuated, you imagined there was no limit to the lengths Snow would go to make you happy. 

“Good.”

You were curious, though, to the lengths that Snow would go. “What would you have done if I was displeased?”

“Erect an opera house to your exact specifications.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your lips. To suggest such a thing was absurd. You were an intelligent young woman to be sure, but you hardly had the education required to design an opera house that both functioned as necessary and would not topple over in a gust of wind. “Then we should be thankful I am content here or else we might have to test the limits to the royal family’s protection from liability.”

Snow waved that off, though he still smirked at you referring to yourself as part of the royal family. “I would send anyone who would even think to sue you to the gallows.”

“So protective,” you teased. There was silence, for a moment, as you looked at Snow. Conversation was flowing easily, with none of its usual bite. Perhaps talking about your conversation with your father would be nice. To at least alleviate the stress you carried in your shoulders. “I am upset with my papa because of you.”

And that, perhaps, was the worst way to begin the conversation when you saw the way Snow’s smile turned into a frown. Oh dear, he probably thought you were trying to pick a fight. “I beg your pardon?”

“What I mean to say is, at the beginning of the season, when it was announced you were seeking a bride, my papa told me that I had to do whatever it took to win you over, even sacrifice my ideals. He made it seem as if it was something I had to do for the family. I refused, of course, but that did nothing to stop you from seeking me out. I wondered why for a long while, spent a long time convinced it was because you were trying to get back at me for all our quibbles over the years. But then I remembered Sejanus had told me that you were interested in me when we were children.”

Snow’s jaw ticked at the mention of Sejanus, so you quickly continued before he could spit some vitriol about your shared friend (for now, at least). 

 “That made no sense to me at the time he told me, of course, but the longer we courted, it started to feel real. Then, this evening, my papa told me that you had asked for my hand three times before. That you fought with me because you liked my attention, not necessarily because you had substantial disagreement with me. And when I asked, he said he lied to me about my needing to sacrifice my ideals to win you over, because he knew that I was already going to be your bride by the end of the season. I cannot respect a man who withholds things from me.”

“I apologize if I disrespected you, but—”

“Not you, my papa. It is clear now that, as far as this season was concerned, you had always made your intentions known. I can admire that. But my papa…I don’t know if I can trust him again. Or my mama, because I am sure she knew something about it, too.”

Snow considered you for a moment, before admitting, “If I had known you were kept in the dark, I would have told you. I assumed you knew I had spoken with your father and that that was part of the reason you kept fighting me. Telling me that you would rather marry anyone else but me.”

“No, I was, for once, clueless.”

He reached over for your hand. You allowed him to take it. “Well, you can rest assured that I will not let you be clueless as long as I can help it. We are to be partners in this marriage. There is no one that I could trust more to run this kingdom and raise our family than you.”

Your stomach twisted. All of this talk of honesty…It made you feel ill. You knew you should tell Snow about Sejanus’s letter. If he ever found out, any trust he had in you would easily be broken. You imagined he would lock you away in the palace, never let you see anyone but the staff and the heirs he would have you produce. And Sejanus…You shuddered at the idea of what Snow would do to him. It would make isolation look kind, you were sure. 

Knowing you had no other choice, you tried again to tell him. “Snow, I wish to tell you one more thing—”

You were cut off by the sound of Sejanus greeting you and Snow. You prayed you did not look as ill as you felt. 

“You look radiant this evening,” Sejanus said to you as he came to your side. Oh, Sejanus, he should not say those sorts of things. Not in front of Snow. Not when you knew how he felt. 

Snow rose to his feet, dropping your hand. It was the polite thing to do as a gentleman, but you knew it was more a power play than anything else. And, though Sejanus towered over Snow, something about the way Snow held himself made him seem like the giant. “She does, doesn’t she? It must be the pre-marital bliss.”

You ignored Snow. Well, if you couldn’t tell Snow about the letter now, you might as well make polite conversation until the next opportunity arose. “Thank you, my lord. You look quite dashing yourself. Did Tigris design your suit?”

“She did,” he beamed. Oh, Sejanus, don’t smile at you like that. “She is the only one I trust to not make me look like a fool.”

“Funny,” Snow muttered. 

You looked at him, your brows furrowed together. Was he trying to suggest Sejanus was a fool? Did Snow know something you didn’t? Your heart skipped a beat. Did he somehow already know of the letter? “What is?”

Snow blinked, as if he hadn’t expected you to hear him. A smile twitched at his lips. “You had said something similar, once.”

“Ah. Well, she is the best. Many people feel quite strongly over her,” you said. You smoothed a wrinkle on your dress. All of the kind talk between you and Coryo made you feel uneasy now that Sejanus was here. “It must be infuriating to know people like Tigris while they tolerate you.”

“Don’t be cruel,” Sejanus chided as Snow’s jaw clenched and unclenched. Don’t join in on the teasing. It will only make things worse. 

“But it’s so easy.”

Sejanus took the seat to your right. From the corner of your eye, you watched as Snow’s hands flexed, as if he was restraining himself from lashing out at Sejanus. Knowing that no one could see your face but Snow and Sejanus, you allowed yourself to roll your eyes. The corner of Sejanus’s mouth twitched up into a smirk. In any other circumstance, you might have been laughing with him at Snow’s expense. This all felt too confusing for you—something you would rather attempt to process in private rather than search your feelings in the moment. So you moved to the edge of your seat, propping your arm against the railing, leaning your cheek against your palm. Snow, as he sat back down, reached for your other hand, and you allowed him to take it. Jealous little thing, he was. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to mind. 

The performance soon began with little more spoken between you, Snow, and Sejanus. Mostly talks about your upcoming nuptials, which made it feel like a knife was being twisted in your stomach. If you didn’t know better, you would have thought that Sejanus was trying to be cruel. Sejanus, though, was something of an angel, and you were sure he didn’t have a mean bone in his body. Perhaps that was why you were so nervous about this. You knew how Snow would read Sejanus’s actions. You knew it would be far from good. 

You tried to push those thoughts away as the performers sang. It had been so long since you had been able to go to the opera, and you wanted to enjoy this moment. Snow would likely bring you to more performances, but just in case, you wanted to have fun while you could. Yet, Sejanus could not leave your mind. He felt entirely too close. It was almost suffocating. And when you dared to glance at him from the corner of your eye, and you saw the way his hand was placed on the arm of his chair, his palm face up, you felt ill. 

So ill, you could not stand it. 

When you dropped Snow’s hand, moving to leave the Lord’s Room, Snow rose to his feet. “Is everything alright, petal?”’

“I’m not feeling well. I just need to step outside for a moment,” you said. 

Sejanus, too, stood. “What’s wrong?”

Oh, don’t do that. Don’t give Snow anymore reason to get upset or concerned.

You waved Sejanus off. “It’s too stuffy in here. I just need a moment.”

Snow watched you, his brows pinched together. You again wondered if he could read your mind, if he knew what you knew. Or perhaps he was acting as if he cared in his own weird way, trying to ascertain if he needed to go with you just in case this was something more serious. “If you wish to leave early, we can. I don’t want you to feel as if we must stay even if you are ill.”

Don’t be kind. You’re not sure you deserve it. “I don’t believe it’s that serious. Please, sit. I shall be back before you can even think to miss me.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Snow sat down. Sejanus remained standing, watching as you turned to leave. It was not until you left the Lord’s Room, sparing a glance over your shoulder, that you saw Sejanus sit down, too.

It was easier to breathe outside of the room. Not much by much, but certainly easier. Being sat between Snow and Sejanus, even if had been something of your own doing, had become something of a personal hell. Damn Sejanus. Damn him. This evening wasn’t supposed to be like this. You were supposed to have a nice evening at the opera. You were supposed to get on Snow’s nerves. You were supposed to laugh with Sejanus and not worry about his insane ideas. It was supposed to be nice, not…whatever it was about to become. 

You found a somewhat secluded area of the foyer and leaned against the wall, trying to steady your heartbeat. You did not know if Snow or Sejanus or both would follow you. If they did, you worried about the other people who were invited eavesdropping on the conversation, realize that there was more than meets the eye regarding your betrothal to Snow. Oh, you would not be able to handle that scandal. 

After a minute or two, the sound of the opera singer ringing in the background, you pushed yourself off the wall. It had been long enough that Snow would become concerned and come looking for you. And it was close enough to intermission that Sejanus—

“You look like you’ve seen death.”

You sucked in a breath. “You need to leave.”

Sejanus stepped closer to you. Too close. He reached out, brushing a loose curl away from your face. You fought the urge to flinch away. “We can go—”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “You cannot truly believe I would leave with you, can you? Sejanus, Snow is the King. He would do everything in his power, utilize every resource at his disposal, to find us and bring us straight to the Capital. You would lose your head, and I would never see daylight again.”

“That should not matter if we love each other. We could find somewhere no one could ever find us. We could live a life all of our own, never have to worry about anything else.”

“But I don’t love you.” 

“Coryo told me that you would rather marry me. That you thought I am an easy man to love. Is that not enough?”

You squeezed your eyes shut. It was so hard to look at him and not cry. Why was he making this so difficult? Why was he putting you in this position? “I might have loved you. In a different life, maybe. But I do not feel what you feel for me. I will not risk my life and yours for a maybe.”

“But you will risk a life of unhappiness with Coryo?”

Why did no one listen to you? 

Why did no one care to ask you what you wanted and actually listen? 

“It is not as if Snow hates me. He cares, in his own way. Even if he shows it in his strange ways. I would want for nothing with him.”

“Can you love him?” Sejanus stepped even closer to you. He cupped your face in his hands. You squeezed your eyes tighter. “Tell me you will be happy with him, and I will leave you alone. I won’t bring this up ever again. I will leave—”

Sejanus was ripped away from you before he could finish speaking. Your eyes flew open. What was happening? Why—

Oh. 

Oh no. 

Snow’s face was blood red, his knuckles nearly matching as he gripped Sejanus’s jacket. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he spat. 

“Coryo, I—”

“You said you didn’t wish to marry her. You said you wouldn’t try to take her from me. Was that a life? Were you trying to catch me with my guard down? What happened to not wanting to hurt me?”

“Please—” 

You had never seen Snow so angry in all your life. Not even when you would spend every day at the Academy arguing with him. Not even when you had told him that you considered marrying Sejanus. Was Snow going to hurt Sejanus? He looked angry enough to kill. You couldn’t let that happen. 

“Snow—” you tried to say, but he did not hear you. 

“I should have the Peacekeepers drag you through the streets, throw you in a cell, and let you rot. I should have you executed,” Snow hissed. “This is treason.”

“Please, Snow—” you tried again. 

You tried to think. Tried to figure out something, anything, to say that could quell Snow’s anger. But you couldn’t even get through to him. It’s like he didn’t even realize you were speaking to him. Oh, what could you say?

“I should make your execution a fucking spectacle. I should make everyone watch as you are hung—”

“Coryo, stop!”

Snow’s head snapped to you. His pale blue eyes looked you up and down, as if he was trying to determine if he should direct his ire to you. He let go of Sejanus’s jacket with a push. Ordinarily, it wouldn’t have made Sejanus stumble, but the sheer weight of everything brought the man tumbling down. Snow took a step towards you, his voice dangerously low as he asked, “Why should I?”

“I was telling him no. I don’t want to go with him,” you said, careful not to say Sejanus’s name. Saying his name in ordinary circumstances drove Snow insane. You hated to imagine what he might do if you did so now. He might just kill Sejanus with his bare hands. His hands. You glanced down, then reached for one of Snow’s hands. It was clenched into a fist, but he allowed you to open his hand, intertwine your fingers with his own. “I want to marry you, Coryo. I want to be your wife.”

Snow stared at your connected hands. He squeezed your hand. It looked like he couldn’t believe this was real. “He followed you out here. Were you planning to run away?”

You couldn’t lie to him. Not now. “He sent a letter this morning. He wanted to run away at intermission, when it was easy to disappear in a crowd. I…I tried to tell you, before he arrived this evening. I never intended to go with him.”

“He followed you.”

I didn’t ask him to, you wanted to say. But you knew that wouldn’t do anything to diminish Snow’s anger. Instead, you said, “I wish you followed me instead.”

When Snow looked at you, you could see his eyes softened ever so slightly. “I thought you might want some space.”

Though you did not wholly believe in what you were saying, you knew it was working to calm him down. “All I want is you, Coryo.”

For a second, a smile began to tug at Snow’s lips. But it vanished all too quick as he heard Sejanus begin to rise to his feet. “He needs to be punished.”

“Don’t have him killed.” When Snow’s eyes narrowed, you quickly added, “I don’t want the death of your friend, your best friend, to weigh heavily on your conscious. I-I know you’re upset now, rightfully so, but that should not mean you send him to the gallows.”

His jaw clenched and unclenched as he weighed your words. “Then what do you suggest I do? If we are to be partners in life, you shall have a say in carrying out punishments.”

Oh, he was being cruel. Perhaps rightfully so. Snow would not harm you physically, but he would not be so above hurting you emotionally. You had not told him about the letter, and in his eyes, you were sure that put you on a similar level of treason as Sejanus’s actions. 

You fought the urge to look at Sejanus. “He shall enlist in the Peacekeepers,” you decided. “You can ensure he has an assignment far away from the Capital. Give him time to consider his betrayal.”

Snow said nothing. You worried he would dismiss your suggestion and call for the Peacekeepers anyways. That he would force you to watch as Sejanus was hung. You stepped closer, pressed a quick kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Please, Coryo?”

When you pulled away, Snow was blinking a mile a minute. You prayed that was enough to convince him, to show him that you were loyal to him. To spare Sejanus’s life.

“Go,” Snow spat at Sejanus. 

Sejanus gave a shaky nod. He dared to look at you, his mouth beginning to open. Whatever he intended to say, though, was lost. 

“If you are going to say anything, it should be to express your gratitude to her for sparing you from an execution.”

Sejanus swallowed. “Thank you.”

“If I learn that you have not enlisted by morning, however, I will follow through with stringing you up at the gallows.”

Sejanus nodded again and quickly left before more could be said. For his sake, you prayed he went straight to the enlistment offices. You weren’t sure if they were open at this time of night, but if he went now, he might be able to enlist first thing in the morning when they did open. 

You let your head fall against Snow’s chest. His heart thump’d, thump’d, thump’d quickly. You wound your arms around his waist. “Thank you,” you whispered. And as he hugged you back, you added, “And I apologize for not telling you of his plans. I…I didn’t think he would be so foolish to try to follow through on them. Or, I suppose, I hoped he wouldn’t.”

“You truly wouldn’t have left with him?”

“I only want a life with you, Coryo. You…may not be an easy man to love, but that does not mean I cannot love you.” Maybe if you said it enough times, you mused, it would become true. 

Snow pressed a kiss to the crown of your head. “I want to move up the wedding date.”

You shut your eyes. “You’ll work poor Tigris to the bone trying to finish my gown in time,” you tried to tease. Your heart wasn’t quite in it. 

“You could show up at the altar in a dressing gown for all I care. I don’t want anyone else trying to steal you away before I can make you mine.”

If this was the sort of anger you would have to grapple with should anyone else try— “Nor do I.” You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. A print of your lipstick left behind a stain. “I truly am sorry, Coryo.”

Maybe if you called him by his pet name enough times, he would forget this ever happen. 

“Don’t let it happen again.”

As you stood there in his tight embrace, people began spilling out into the foyer. Intermission, it seemed, had arrived. And not a single one of them were aware of events that just transpired. 

How lucky they were. 

[megumishousewife]

Megumi x Chubby! Gamer Part 2

A/N: I'm so sorry I kept yall waiting for part two, college life was kicking my butt but (double butt) please enjoy bae🫶🏽

It wasn’t even a full 24 hours and you were trending on Twitter overnight. You saw that you had gained at least half a million subscribers on all of your platforms, not to mention how you were tagged in many videos about Megumi. Ignoring your growing fame, you opened your Twitter page and saw the poll that you had uploaded last night to see that over 95% of voters wanted you to meet your favorite streamer. You were shocked by how many people were so engrossed with your little crush that it caused you to laugh.

“Wow, it’s 10 AM and Twitter is losing their mind,” You mumbled to yourself.

You knew that you were not exactly ready to meet Megs in person because you already know with no established meeting of any kind is just bound to cause an awkward interaction. You thought about another solution while you handled the business portion of your day, responding to emails and accepting sponsors. While answering after answering an email from an Indie horror game creator, you stumbled upon a message in your inbox that you were not expecting. The sender read Megumi Fushiguro with the subject topic being “possible collab?”. You felt your heart drop to your stomach. The feeling of the world closing in on you was prevalent in this moment. Your YouTube crush….WANTS TO COLLAB?! You took the time to thank your fans in your head as you read the email, trying to contain your need to burst into tears of joy. The email reads:

Dear Y/N,

I’m pleased to see that our fans are interested in us growing a bond with each other. I, as well, was interested in you and your content so I wanted to ask if you were interested if you would like to do a video together. Let me know your answer and please follow up with ideas. Thank you for your time!

Sincerely,

Megumi Fushiguro

You tried your hardest to not squeal in excitement. You read the entire email all over again, just imagining it in his voice and you gushed about how cute he would probably sound trying to be serious. You took a moment to respond, gather your thoughts and try to be as professional as possible.

Dear Mr. Fushiguro,

Sorry for being so formal, but I would love to do a collab with you! I’m sorry for the social media uproar, I bet you're not used to THIS kind of attention. I would like to play “It Takes Two” since it’s more of a duo game anyways. If you could tell me a day that is good with you, I can clear my schedule. Thanks!

Sincerely,

Y/N

You flopped on your bed and kicked your feet giddily for a split second. You looked at your clock and decided to do an early morning stream to thank your audience and tell them your surprise (you couldn’t wait because you would have tweeted that you're doing a video with your crush). Getting back into influencer mode, you started setting up your lighting for your stream as the intermission screen was on for your viewers so they couldn’t see you and your nervous jitters. Sitting down, you took a quick breather before clicking your fans over to see your facecam.

“Hi guys! There’s about 5,000 of you guys here. I know I just saw you guys yesterday but I missed you all! Welcome back, welcome back. As you can tell by the title of this stream, I have a special announcement for all of you! Let’s allow a few more people to come in and I will make my announcement.

While you and your fans waited, you said hello to a few people, some asked you how your morning has been so far. Others asked about your Youtube content and you replied holding a finger over your lips, smiling. After ten minutes of friendly chatting, you decided to drop the bomb.

You began, “Before I tell you my announcement, I just wanted to thank you guys for even making this possible. For all your hashtags and tweets to bring attention to little ole me, I thank you all. Sooo, yo get to the point for you guys… I am currently working on collabing with Megs and I can’t wait to start filming for it!”

You saw your chat blow up with “Let’s go” or “you finna get your manz” and all you could do was giggle at how supportive your fans were.

“Guys, relax. All we are doing is playing a game and no, you won’t find out until I release the video.”

You got an email notification and saw that it was from Megumi and it said: “Open it on stream ;)”. Your mouth dropped open and you looked at your webcam.

“Megs wants you guys to see his recent email.”

Your chat was going crazy, asking if you read it yet or just straight up telling you to read it.

“No, I have not read the email yet. We can all read it together.”

You shared your screen with your chat and began reading the email to them. It reads:

Y/N, I’m pleased to work and get closer to you in the future. When you’re done with your stream, send me an email with your number so I can call you.

~Megs

All you could do was scream in the mic while your fans spammed W’s in the chat, probably having the same reaction as you.

--------------------------------------------------------

Nobara smiled hard at the screen watching your priceless reaction.

She said, “My god, Yuji, I think you made this girl lose her mind over Megumi. Gosh, she’s so cute.”

Behind her, Megumi had Yuji in a chokehold while Yuji tried to wiggle out of his grasp.

“Look, Megumi,” Yuji said, “She’s happy about the email and you’re overreacting! Don’t get mad at me because I tried to add a little rizz to your emails.”

Megumi released Yuji, “ I was trying to be professional and you-”. Megumi’s face was turned by Yuji, forcing him to continue to look at your blushing face on stream as you spoke highly about him with a smile on your face, admiring your chubby face radiating on his big screen. He slapped Yuji’s hands away and walked towards his kitchen, blushing.

Nobara high-fived Yuji and whispered, “Good job, Cupid!”

-

-

-

taglist!: @definitely-notalissa (as promised babes🤞🏽)

[lightsoutmatthews]

Top Line - Steven Lorentz

summary: Your boyfriend gets promoted to be the left winger on the Leafs top line. Unfortunately, the experiment doesn´t end well which leads to you having to catch him before he falls.

pairing: Steven Lorentz x female!reader

word count: 1.6k

warnings:

authors note:

I know it´s been forever since this happened but I still wanted to publish it

----------------------------

Steven <3: Did you, by any chance, look at a post from todays line rushes at practice?

Your boyfriends text confused you as you checked your phone during your lunch break. You knew he had been at practice today, but you had no idea why you were supposed to check the line up chart.

I No?

His answer was coming through immediately. A screenshot of a tweet by Leafs beat reporter David Alter confirming line rushes. Lorentz – Matthews – Marner, Knies – Tavares – Nylander. You blinked twice as your brain was processing what you just read.

Lorentz – Matthews – Marner.

“Oh my god.” You said out loud. “What´s up?” You co-worker asked trying to sneak a peek at your phones screen. “They promoted Steven to the top line with Matthews and Marner.”

She wrapped her arms around you. “That’s great news. Will you be at the game? I can cover for you so you can leave early.” You looked up at her with big eyes. “Would you actually? I would really love to go.” “Absolutely, you go see your man.”

Steven <3: You still there?

Steven <3: Babe?

I Sorry, I was processing. I´m so proud of you, you deserve that.

You knew how much playing for the Leafs meant to him. Yes, winning the cup with the Panthers last season was great and the celebrations will forever be one of your most cherished memories but you would never forget the face he came home with on the day he told you that the Leafs offered him a contract after signing him to a tryout agreement. The first home game he put the jersey on was probably his favorite hockey memory.

He worked hard. You knew he wanted to earn a contract extension with the team as soon as he was allowed to sign one. His agent and Brad Treliving heavily indicated that that would be happening, but he still wanted to show that he could be the reliable fourth- or third-line guy they needed.

The promotion showed you that they trusted and valued him, and you couldn’t be prouder of your boyfriend if you tried.

--------------------------------

The next evening the game rolled around. It was going well at the beginning of the first period. Only a few minutes in the line of Lorentz – Matthews – Marner scored the opening goal for the Leafs. The goal was only credited to Auston and Mitch, but you still sensed good things for the rest of the evening.

Unfortunately, you were proven wrong when the game took a turn for the worse after the first intermission. Dallas took the lead through the second but that was not what you were worried about. Since around the middle of the frame you hadn’t seen Steven on the ice at all.

You had a good view of the bench and saw that he was just sitting there, head hung low.

Your heart broke into a million tiny pieces when you saw how slumped he sat there while watching his teammates take their shifts one after the other. Matthews and Marner being sent out with others while he was not being sent out at all.

You weren’t exactly sure why he was benched. Berube put Nylander and then Knies back on the top line shortly into the second to create more offense but that wasn’t a reason to bench someone completely.

You knew you weren’t an expert at hockey, even though you had been to countless games being with Steven, but you had enough understanding to not see anything bad of his doing that would justify a benching.

Anger overtook the sadness in your chest. You couldn’t even imagine how he must feel.

It didn’t get better in the third, Dallas added two more goals, and your boyfriend didn’t see the ice again until there were less than 5 minutes to play.

The Leafs loss was brutal. The team being booed off the ice, the losing streak extending to three games.

The mood was sour in the family room. Wives, girlfriends and family members wondering what was going on with the team while trying to figure out how they would cheer their frustrated men up when they got home.

Quiet words were exchanged with the other women, plans for brunch the next morning were abolished as everyone knew they would rather be at home. Gab McCabe and Sanna Jarnkrok giving you comforting squeezes on the shoulder before you left.

You knew Steven would take a while to get home today. You had seen him after games like this before and knew he would either spent an extra-long time in recovery or drive around town for a while to clear his head.

Calling an Uber to drop you off at home you spent the entire drive worrying. You knew this would be hard on him and at the same time you didn´t know how to make it better. You wanted to make it better. Take all the pain from him and lift it on your shoulders.

Setting on the couch with a cup of tea, waiting for him to show up, your dog cuddled next to you, enjoying getting some attention from his mom. “I don’t know what dad did to deserve this but maybe he needs some extra love when he comes home,” you said to the lab who barked in agreement before turning in some TV show you were not actually paying attention to.

Steven´s usually positive and happy attitude was not something that was broken easily but when he took longer than usually to get home that night you knew it hit him hard.

The minutes ticked by unbelievably slow. Your tea had gotten cold on the living room table and the TV had become background noise as you kept checking your phone for any sorts of communication from him.

When is absence hit the two hour mark you were full of worry and close to texting some of his teammates to see if they knew where he was.

You had started pacing the living room. Your hair tussled from the number of times you had brushed your hands through them. Checking and scrolling through your phone so much the battery was almost gone.

When the front door finally opened it was past midnight. He didn’t let you know where he was, and you didn’t ask but you knew that when he was home, he was ready to talk about it.

“Hey,” you greeted him when he entered the living room. “Hey, sweets,” he said softly. A small smile plastered on his lips as he took in the domestic scene in front of him.

You got up and wrapped your arms around him as soon as you were close enough. He basically collapsed into your arms, the stress and frustration from the day crashing down on him.

“I´m proud of you. You did a great job,” you whispered into his hair. “If I had done a great job I wouldn’t have been benched for over 20 minutes of the game,” He shot back the anger clearly still simmering in his words.

“Steven,” you whispered helplessly, placing a soft kiss to his head but before you could say anything else, he kept on rambling.

“I just don’t get it. I don’t even know what I did wrong. Berube just said something about the experiment not working out but that’s hardly an explanation.” He smacked his hand on the table which made you flinch and almost jump away from him.

This was a version of your boyfriend you didn’t see very often. He always tried to see the positive in things, an angry outburst not something you were used to.

He rubbed his hand over his face, eyes closing for a few seconds before he opened them again and looked at you. His expression softening in an instant. “I´m sorry, I didn’t want to scare you,” he whispered his voice so quiet you almost didn’t hear it.

“It´s okay, honey. You can let it out, I´m here for you.” He brushed a stand of your hair that had fallen over your eyes back and looked at you with the smile you loved so much.

His arms wrapped around your waist as he pulled you against his strong chest and buried his face in your neck.

You leaned your head against his. His skin warm, comfortable. His soft, rhythmic breathing bringing you a sense of calm you missed since returning home.

Quiet overtook the living room, both of you taking in the other ones presence. Him seeking the comfort he desperately needed after the day, you for once being the strong one in the relationship.

“Thank you. You don’t know how much I appreciate that I can come home to you every day.” You leaned back, moving your arms to wrap them around his neck, softly playing with the hair at the back of it.

“I love you, Steven. No matter if you play on the first line or on the fourth or if you´re benched or even scratched, not to speak that into existence.” He chuckled before you continued.

“Hockey is hockey, and we both know hockey won´t last forever. It will not be there at one point, but I will still love you because it doesn’t matter to me what you do. All that matters is that I get to have you in my life.”

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss to your lips before pulling both of you down on the couch. Your head rested on his chest while he was drawing unrecognizable patterns on your back. Neither of you spoke, each other´s presence all that was needed after what you had just said.

“Feeling better?” you asked after you cuddled in silence for a while. It was past 1 am at that point. He was still in his gameday suit, but it didn’t matter. All he wanted in that moment was to be close to you. “Yeah. It is what it is, I guess. I need to do better next game.”

“At least losing is not on you; you weren’t even on the ice,” you joked which earned you a grim look from your boyfriend. “Too soon?” you asked laughing at his sour expression. “You´re lucky I love you.” He grumbled before placing a kiss to the tip of your nose.

“I love you too."