#and by that I mean I need to come up with a different tag for it lol

[steddieas-shegoes]

black swan

for @steddiesportsau prompt 'dance'

rated t | 3331 words | no cw | tags: ballet dancer steve, ballet dancer eddie, high school, steve has bad parents, not canon compliant, getting together, sort of strangers to lovers

🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰🩰

Steve stops dancing when he’s 12. His dad insists it’s time for him to “grow out of it” and “play a real sport.” It’s fine. It’s not like he’s the best in the class and on a fast track to an invitation to the New York Ballet or anything.

He starts swimming because he has the build for it and it’s easy.

He starts basketball to make his father shut up about being on a team.

The worst part is that he’s good at that too. Not great, not like ballet, but good.

He makes both teams in high school, even makes varsity basketball his sophomore year. He’s captain by junior year.

Sometimes, he stops by the studio he used to dance at, between classes, just to check in with the director and make sure everything’s going well. She always asks if he wants to come back. He always wants to say yes.

****

On his 18th birthday, his parents are gone, and he’s lonely. Nancy’s busy, and even if she weren’t, they aren’t anything except friends. Barely that.

Tommy and Carol have written him off now that they’re going away to college in the fall, and he wouldn’t want to have them over anyway. They’re on a different path than Steve, always have been. He’s just been so desperate for connection, he’s let everything slide.

Just before dinner, he drives to the dance studio. There’s not many classes happening on Tuesdays, but maybe someone will be there to let him in. He doesn’t see any cars in the parking lot, but there’s a light on inside.

The door is unlocked, and music is playing from the back room. It’s a much smaller room, designed for solos and duets only, not group routines. The music is not ballet music, but it could be a jazz or tap routine.

The man dancing is beautiful, in loose sweats and curly hair up in a bun that seems like it’s barely hanging on. He moves gracefully, but there’s an edge to it, something Steve always wished he had, even though he didn’t technically need it. His pointe shoes are torn, much more worn in than what’s recommended for anyone, especially men on pointe.

Steve’s amazed, the way he moves to a song that’s mostly heavy drums and guitar, makes it look like a classical piece as his arms and legs do everything the way Steve used to. He resists saying anything.

Then he catches sight of the man’s face.

It’s Eddie Munson.

Eddie Munson dances?

“What the fuck.”

Eddie freezes, turns to him, falling to the flats of his feet. He looks caught out, as if he’s doing something wrong. He must be allowed to be here if the place is unlocked for him. Eddie might be a terrible student and definitely deals weed out of a lunchbox, but he’d never break into a dance studio just to use it.

He looks like he’s gonna run.

“Wait,” Steve says to stop him before he can. He steps closer. “How long have you danced?”

“Uh, five years?”

So they never took a class together. Steve was worried he’d somehow forgotten.

“Did you always take classes here?”

“I’ve never taken classes here.”

Now, Steve’s confused even more. He’s lived in Hawkins for at least 10 years. He remembers when he started living with his uncle. His first day at Hawkins Elementary set the tone for the rest of his time in school; Tommy and a few of his friends making his life miserable because of his much too large flannel shirt and greasy hair.

Steve had stayed quiet then, just as he did for most of middle and high school.

“How are you in here then?” He asks.

“I’ve had a key for two years. Ms. Laseaux made sure I had one when she had to cut her evening hours during the week,” Eddie explains. “I swear I’m allowed to be here. Don’t call the cops, please.”

“Dude, I’m not gonna call the cops. If you say you have permission, then you’re good,” Steve hates that Eddie still looks like he might run. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Is it okay if I watch?”

“Uh.”

Eddie’s music stops and the silence is almost as loud as the heavy music.

“It’s okay if not. You’re just beautiful,” Steve says honestly.

Eddie’s face flushes red and Steve has an immediate and overwhelming urge to see how far the blush goes. He shakes the thought from his head.

“Um. I guess I can start from the beginning?” Eddie offers.

“I’d love to see the whole routine,” Steve smiles.

Eddie rewinds the tape and starts it again, gets into position, and changes Steve’s life.

It’s even more beautiful from the start, a whole story unfolding before Steve’s eyes. Instead of the music being a distraction, it builds the emotion. Steve hasn’t seen anyone dance quite like Eddie.

Eddie seems a little nervous, but he never falters. He knows this routine well, front to back, probably back to front, too. It’s stage-ready and Steve wonders if he’s ever performed it outside of this room. He doesn’t think anyone else could possibly know he dances, at least not this well. He belongs on a stage.

He feels water on his cheek and he reaches up to wipe it away. He’s crying.

He remembers the time his mom cried at his first solo during a recital, how proud she was of him, and how proud he was of himself. He wonders if anyone has ever been that proud of Eddie.

“Steve?” Eddie asks.

The music’s stopped and Eddie’s breathing hard from fifth position. Steve’s tears are still falling.

Eddie’s hands cover his face, wiping away tears that just won’t stop.

“Sorry, sorry. It’s amazing; You’re amazing. Please tell me you perform somewhere,” Steve sniffs, smiles at him. “Did you get a senior solo last year?”

“No,” Eddie says quietly. “I can’t afford the fees for actual studio time and it’s required to perform at the recital. But I get to come here once a week and get it out of my system.”

Steve is about to offer to use all of his savings to pay for whatever Eddie needs. He has to get out of here, dance on bigger stages, be seen by people who can get him where he should be.

“The timing of the arabesque, Eddie, it’s beautiful. The leaps are textbook. The way you timed that kick with a cymbal crash. I mean, everything. You’re so technical, but emotional, and it’s like it takes no effort for you. You could easily get into a ballet school or a company,” Steve is talking and Eddie is still holding his face. He’s probably still crying.

“Thank you, but this is kinda it for me. I just love dancing,” Eddie takes his hands away and Steve instantly misses them. He knows he’s feeling a bit lonely– it’s his birthday, after all– but he liked how warm they were, how the blisters across his palm seemed to rub just right against Steve’s cheekbones. “You seem to know a lot.”

“I danced when I was a kid. Here.”

“Really?” Eddie seems genuinely shocked. “I thought you were, like, a stereotypical jock guy. No one’s ever mentioned you.”

Steve laughs, but he feels a pang in his chest. He knows why no one talks about him here. Most of the history of him being here was erased at his dad’s demand.

“Pretty much from the time I was potty trained to when I was 12. I had to quit,” he doesn’t feel like going into a deep dive of why he had to quit while he’s standing in the room he had to do it in. “I still come by to see Ms. Laseaux when I won’t interrupt classes. She was my instructor for six years of my life. She put so much into my lessons.”

“Were you good?” Eddie asks.

Steve laughs again. He’s not as confident as he pretends to be most of the time, but he’s sure of one thing: he was a phenomenal dancer.

“I was her best student.”

Eddie nods like he was expecting that answer.

“She mentioned wishing she could’ve had me earlier. Said she would’ve done anything to pair me with her star.”

Steve wishes more than anything he could’ve danced with Eddie. They would have been unstoppable. His dad would’ve never allowed him to dance with another boy, but the thought still makes him warm.

“I’m sure she would’ve had us in New York or Boston or Europe the second she could,” Steve smiles fondly. “She tried to bribe my mom into going behind my dad’s back for nearly a year.”

“I’m guessing he’s not okay with his son dancing like a fairy?” Eddie’s lip curls up in disgust.

“Bingo.”

“Well, join the club. That’s why I didn’t start until I lived with my uncle, but he couldn’t afford to put me in real classes,” Eddie explains. He’s rolling his ankles one by one while he stands there, something that Steve knows is a nervous habit, one he had backstage before shows. “Ms. Laseaux was a bit sweet on my uncle when I first lived with him. He didn’t have much time for dating, but I think they would’ve fallen in love if it weren’t for me. She wanted to do what she could to help, even when it was obvious they weren’t gonna work out.”

Steve does remember one visit only a couple years after he quit where she talked about a nice man who fell into some unfortunate circumstances, and how she wished she could do more than help his nephew out.

“She’s always been amazing. I wish I brought my slippers, I could’ve at least stretched and tried to learn some of that,” Steve gestures towards Eddie. “Not that I’d do it any justice with how long I’ve been out of it.”

“If you were as good as she says, I think you’d catch on quick enough,” Eddie smirks. “I have an extra pair if you think you can fit?”

It’s a huge no usually. Wearing someone else’s broken in pointe shoes is just asking for bad luck and injury, especially if you don’t know the dancer well. As nice an offer as it is, Steve should say no.

“I could try,” he says instead.

Eddie’s beaming smile silences any doubt he had in his head that this would be a mistake. He rushes to his bag in the corner and pulls out a practically brand new set of shoes.

Steve is hesitant to take them when he offers.

“These look…shouldn’t you be trying to break these in for your own feet?” Steve doesn’t know why he’s wearing torn up shoes when he has these. They look nice, and he recognizes the brand when he turns them over in his head. They are nice. Some of the nicest shoes you can buy without getting into the thousands of dollars range.

Eddie shrugs. “I like these.”

“But these cost a fortune. How did you even get these?”

“I saved up for them. I’ll break them in when I can’t wear these at all anymore,” Eddie smiles, nudges his shoulder to make him put them on. “C’mon, you need to stretch.”

Steve listens, walks over to the corner to put the shoes on, stretch out his legs and back, groaning when he pops his shoulder. He’s been a little tense all week, worried that his parents would come home for his birthday and expect him to do some kind of business dinner.

This is a much better way to spend his birthday.

Eddie is…frolicking might actually be the best word for it. He’s not exactly dancing, but he’s not really walking either. Steve almost gets too caught up watching his movements to finish what he’s doing.

“Do you want me to show you this one or do you wanna show me something first?” Eddie asks. He sounds excited, maybe even more than Steve is.

It’s not like quitting dance meant Steve actually stopped dancing. He just only did it at home, and had to make sure he was alone, which has been increasingly more difficult over the high school years. His friends practically lived at his house, even when he didn’t want them to.

But he’s still out of practice, and probably not nearly as nimble as this dance would require. He’s not sure what he would even show Eddie. His last dance recital was six years ago, and he doubts the tape with his music is even here anymore.

“Um, you can show me some of yours. Maybe the drum part?” Steve’s voice shakes with sudden nerves. He hasn’t had eyes on him while he danced in a long time. He wasn’t built like this the last time he properly danced, either.

Eddie smirks. “The whole song is the drum part, but I know what you mean.”

Steve blushes. Eddie takes position in the center of the room, leaving enough space for Steve to stand next to him.

They look at each other in the mirror. Steve nods.

Eddie moves so fluidly, even when he’s going slower to show Steve. It’s like he’s a waterfall and Steve’s the river below, waiting to take what he’s giving to move it along in a beautiful and seamless way.

It hits Steve when he’s watching Eddie turn that if Eddie’s never taken a proper class, he must’ve choreographed this dance himself.

“Steve?” Eddie’s hand on his arm startles him from his thoughts. “Need me to do it again?”

“Sorry. Yes, please,” he doesn’t know why he can’t focus, but Eddie continues to show him three more times and he still doesn’t quite get the timing right. “Sorry, I think I’m just distracted.”

“Why don’t you show me a routine you’re familiar with?” Eddie asks.

“I’m not sure I remember any enough,” Steve tries to say, but Eddie shakes his head.

“You’re a dancer. You remember.”

He’s right. He may miss a few steps here and there, or get the timing just a bit off, but he can remember most of every routine he ever did on a stage. He does it without music, something that Ms. Laseaux always made him do before recitals to ensure he knew the timing in his head.

He doesn’t pay attention to Eddie’s reactions until he’s done.

He’s breathless, and not just from the dance. Eddie’s eyes are shining, and his lips are parted in a way that makes Steve want to slip his tongue between them and taste him. He’s a bit thrown by the thought, but only because he hasn’t had those kinds of thoughts in a long time. Not since Nancy broke up with him.

Eddie stands from the floor and walks over to him, still seemingly in shock over his dancing.

Steve’s ankles are sore, and he’s a bit mad he chose the hardest dance he ever did. His heart is trying to beat out of his chest. His legs are shaking.

Eddie cups his face, eyes searching his.

“You should have let her bribe your mom,” he says quietly. “You belong on the stage, too.”

Steve feels tears prick his eyes and it’s ridiculous to be crying for the second time in front of Eddie, but he’s a little overwhelmed.

“I miss it,” he chokes out. Eddie nods because he knows. Maybe not the same way Steve does, but he knows his own yearning, his own pain at being unable to perform the way his body is capable of. He might be the only other person in Hawkins who understands him. “I shouldn’t have let him stop me.”

“You were a kid, Steve,” Eddie’s voice breaks. “You didn’t have a choice.”

“I do now,” Steve sounds more sure than he thought he could with tears streaming down his face. “What can he do now that I’m 18 other than cut me off? He won’t. My mom wouldn’t let him and his business partners would think less of him.”

Eddie’s brows furrow. He looks away for a moment, his lips moving around words Steve can’t hear. When he looks back at Steve, he looks heartbroken.

“Is today your birthday?”

Steve nods. He’s not sure why Eddie looks so upset. This is turning into one of the best birthdays he’s ever had and he’s starting to feel relief that he finally feels brave enough to stand up to his dad.

“And you came here?” Somehow, he sounds even more upset.

“I didn’t really want to go anywhere else,” Steve tilts his head as he answers. “This is always where I’ve felt the least lonely.”

“Dance with me.”

They danced already. A little. But Steve thinks he means something different now.

“What do you know?” Steve asks, a flutter in his chest at the thought of touching Eddie, lifting Eddie, feeling Eddie against him.

“Swan Lake?” Eddie asks.

“You know Swan Lake? How?” Steve doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he’s a little shocked someone who’s never even taken a ballet class would know the most famous pas de deux.

“I have eyes and an uncle who buys me tapes of famous ballets from some guy in Chicago. They’re shit quality, but I watch them so often, I’ve taught myself.”

“You’re amazing.”

Eddie laughs. “Let’s see if I can pull it off first.”

Eddie rushes over to the corner, searching through the tapes on the shelf. Most of the popular ballets are there, and Steve knows every piece from Swan Lake is probably on the top. All the seniors tend to use those for their solos.

He finds what he’s looking for and slots the tape in the stereo. Steve knows there’s a slow start to the music, and it allows plenty of time for them to get into position.

It’s easy falling into this with Eddie. They don’t even discuss who will take which part, they just fall into what’s natural. Steve hasn’t spent as much time en pointe as Eddie clearly has, so he takes the male lead, happy just to have his hands gently guiding through the dance. He’s not meant to be the star of the show, and he wouldn’t wanna be as long as Eddie’s the one front and center.

When they finish, it’s easy to close the distance between them, lips brushing together in the gentlest kiss Steve’s ever experienced. He immediately wants more, but he waits.

He may have been leading the dance, but he doesn’t want to lead with this.

Eddie cups his cheek, still catching his breath.

“Happy birthday, Steve.”

It throws Steve off. He almost forgot it was his birthday. He got so caught up in just being around Eddie, dancing, feeling this freedom he only ever felt at the studio.

He doesn’t remember the last time he actually celebrated his birthday. It had to be before high school, even though he remembers Tommy insisting on throwing him a party at his own house with his own food and beer for his 16th. That was less for his birthday and more for Tommy to show off that he knew Steve Harrington.

“You’re okay,” Eddie says.

Not asking. Telling.

Steve believes him.

The next time they kiss is in Eddie’s van, not even ten minutes later, after Eddie asks Steve where he wants to go for a birthday dinner, his treat.

“Benny’s?” Steve asks.

“You sure? Just the diner?”

Steve nods. “My parents are gonna drag me to some five star restaurant next week where the only decent food will be the dessert they don’t bring enough of. I want greasy shitty food and a milkshake.”

Eddie kisses him a third time and puts the van in reverse.

They’re both sweaty from dancing, and neither of them should technically be out this late on a school night, but Steve’s not alone.

It’s his birthday, he got to dance, and he’s not alone.

[akkaweo-akkaweo]

Better choices

Naoi Rei x M!reader

Tags: softdom, jealousy, post-orgasm torture

WC: 7.2k

—————

The little digital watch on your wrist beeped on the hour: 10PM. You carried with you a battery-powered mosquito lamp, a bag of nacho chips, and a jar of salsa. Your destination, barely a hundred meters from the door of your house, was a quaint playground in the roundabout-cum-cul-de-sac in your village.

To be more specific, your destination was Naoi Rei, seated on a big, decorative rock near the edge of the playground.

"You're late," she pouted.

"By less than a minute, hello?," you rebutted, setting the mosquito lamp right by her legs. In shorts, she needed it more than you.

"Hmph," she pouted harder.

"Don't fret now," you said, as you reached out to grab her shoulder, which she grumpily pulled away from you with a huff.

You clicked your tongue. "Alright, guess I'll just have to eat these nachos alone," you muttered, emphasizing the last word. In a snap, Rei moved a bit to the side to give you space.

"Apology accepted," she rolled her eyes.

As neighbors for the majority of your life, Rei had always been like this with you; this meeting spot was hallowed ground for your friendship, and talking time like this an inviolable agreement. Even when you both went to different colleges, got jobs, or experienced any manner of trouble in the dead of night, the rock remained the rendezvous point.

"Lemme guess," she said, forcefully grabbing the bag of nachos from your hands, "Sooyoung." You sat down, opened the jar with held breath, and took a loud sigh.

Tonight's agenda, as it had been maybe 3 or 4 times now: Sooyoung, a girl you met at work. Well, "met at work" is a loose description, considering you "met" for the first time when she asked you about chips at "work," in the convenience store nearby.

"Usual opening question," Rei asked, a mouth full of nachos. "You still wanna do this?"

"I'm not wasting any effort, okay?," you rebutted. "It's not over 'til she says it's over."

You've been trying to woo Sooyoung for nearly a year now. Successes include a meaningful chat over coffee, a fairly uninteresting movie where you held hands, and a less-than-stellar bar crawl.

"Okay," Rei said with a groan. "Here's a thought: offer to go with her clothes shopping?"

"Clothes shopping?," you remarked. "I mean, doesn't that come off... weird?"

"You're literally the only person I know who'd say that," she replied. "Unless you wanna stare at her tits in the dressing room like a perv, no, it's not weird."

"Bruh, what the fuck?," you reacted. "No, I meant it'd be weird to buy her clothes."

"Again, you're literally the only person who'd say that," she replied. "Women would never pass up an opportunity to get more stuff for their wardrobe."

You grumbled as you sat on the rock, back against Rei. This rock used to be big enough for the two of you; now both of you were more leaning on to it and using each other as ample support.

"It's not that, it's... she's not reciprocating, and I would be offering to give something material. Out of my own pocket. That's a waste of effort." You scratched your head, irritated.

"Well, you're not wrong there, though I'm pretty sure you've spent on her more than once," Rei said with a mouth full of nachos, still holding the bag hostage. "I mean, let's look at it now: you've taken her to the movies, you've had a café date, you've gone drinking without sex..."

"Rei," you groaned, remarking at the aside.

"You've offered hiking which didn't materialize, you offered a blackbox theatre date... That's as much as anything you can offer in this boring ass town, and you spent on those too," she continued.

You slicked your hair back in frustration. "I just wish I could get a clearer sign with her, you know?," you added. "That's it. I want to know if I should even...," you trailed off.

Rei let out another exasperated sigh. "Dude, obviously you don't want to stop chasing after her, so why wait for a sign? You could always just read into it that she's waiting for you to do the right gesture. Or offer the right date. If she's intentionally playing hard-to-get, play harder."

"That's why I need you here," you replied. "I have no idea what that would be or how else."

"So quit your bitching and just offer what I said," she retorted. "The worst that can happen is that she says no, and you'll beg me to come here for more plans. Big fucking deal."

Now, you and Rei are best friends without question, but you know when she gets worked up. An imaginary klaxon rang in your head: she was in that territory, and that was a first.

"Alright, sorry," you relent. "I'm just paranoid, I suppose."

Silence – rare even for Rei and her usual side comments about your questionable decisions. All you could hear was the quiet munching of nachos.

"Any nachos left?," you asked, and Rei shook the bag as audible proof it was close to empty.

"So, uh," you asked, "how's that guy you've been trying to ask out?"

"Gave up," she said coldly. "Unlike you, I know when to quit when I'm not wanted."

Silence again, no less awkward. So much more awkward that you're patting your thighs and tapping your foot silently, trying to resist the urge to walk away. But the sinking feeling in your chest wins out.

"Well, thanks for the advice. Keep the salsa," you said. "I'll... leave you to it then."

You slowly get up, trying to feign leaving, when Rei started sniffling. "I really wish you'd get the hint," she whispered.

"Wait, Rei, wh–"

"I said I wish you'd get the fucking hint, you doofus!," she hissed as she stomped her feet, looking back at you over her shoulder. "It's always Sooyoung this, Sooyoung that, or maybe even Vicky this, or Jen that, it's always gotta be someone else!"

You stayed frozen. "Rei–"

"And here I am, crawling to you every single time you need me because I want to be with you, hoping you're gonna realize it one day," she cried, almost bawling. "And all you ever do is just fuss over more women who will never give you what I can!"

You're not just frozen now; you're shellshocked. Sure, you always had a nagging feeling asking Rei about other girls would be a bit awkward, but you never assumed she'd ever take it personally. More than that – that she had any feelings for you to take it personally.

"Rei–," you tried to speak, more firmly, but Rei had already gotten up.

"No. I don't want to talk to you," she responded. "Not about work, not about your life, not about other girls. Just leave me alone." She walked briskly into the darkness; you sat there, surrounded only by the screeching of cicadas, the lamp and a jar of salsa on the floor, and the ringing silence in your ears.

The hundred-meter walk home felt more like a kilometer, the excruciating length of it fraught with rewinding to every single time you were with Rei.

"I wish you'd get the fucking hint."

There was this one night when you asked Rei for help when you were seeing a singer-songwriter who was very into Laufey, an artist you'd only heard by name before then. Rei made you an entire playlist even before you got to the playground. You spent the night listening to the music, and she would tell you all about the "lore" of her: her twin sister, her ethnic background, the jazz inspiration, etc.

"What's your favorite song of hers?"

She twirled a strand of hair around her finger pensively. "Maybe this one," she said, cutting the song to her choice.

One day, I will stop falling in love with you,

Some day, some will like me like I like you,

Until then, I'll drink my coffee, eat my pie, pretend that we are more than friends,

And of course I'll let you break my heart again.

"Wow," you reacted, "it has such an old sound you don't hear anymore."

"Hmm," Rei reacted, staring up into the black sky, even though there were no visible stars in your neighborhood.

"What do you like about it?," you asked.

She looked at you, her eyes glistening from the halogen streetlights. Her blank expression turned into a smile you'll never forget, only because you've almost never seen it on her: her eyes scrunched up until you could question if she could still see, her grin nearly ear-to-ear, hiding a deep chuckle.

"I guess I just relate to it a lot."

You laid quietly on your bed, tears welling in your eyes as the song blared in your headphones, staring up at the ceiling of your pitch black room.

You were worse than a doofus. You were a dumbass.

=====

"I think we should stop seeing each other," you said sternly to Sooyoung.

"O-okay, um," Sooyoung responded. "W-well, if that's what you want..."

"I just need you to answer me honestly," you added. "You were never into me, were you?"

"I mean...," Sooyoung scoffed, trying to find the words. "Look, you're a great guy and all, and I really enjoyed the dates, I really did. But... you're just not my type. And to be really honest, I was trying to let you down easy. I thought you'd never take the hint."

That stung, a little. Maybe a lot more than you ever ought to have felt.

"Then... before we call it quits, can I just ask you something? I need your... advice," you sighed.

"Okay? Go ahead, I'm listening," she said, turning the chair around for you. "You're taking this a lot better than I thought."

"Thanks. Uhh...," you scratched your head, trying to figure out a proper way to explain everything. "So, I've been talking to someone else to get advice. About our dates and stuff."

"Sounds like a great friend, if they suggested all those things we did," Sooyoung remarked.

"They did... she did," you corrected yourself. "Actually, more than just us. About a lot of personal stuff. But girls and dating in particular. Ever since we were kids." The more you explained it, the more ashamed you felt. "She... told me the other night she was hurt by me asking for help about the girls and dating part."

Sooyoung rubbed her neck. "Yikes. I sorta figured where this was going halfway through your story. I suppose you've figured out what that means, right?"

"Yeah. admittedly a little late," you paused. "But... am I too late?"

"What do you mean by that?," she asked.

"Let's say I wanna... try and date her," you continued. "Am I too late to ask her out?"

"Honestly?," Sooyoung replied, "It's not so much if you're too late or too early if she really likes you. But, if this girl were like me and I was in her shoes, I'd want some form of assurance that I'm wanted by you. I mean, you've literally told them you were interested in other people. Other girls. Girls that weren't her. It'll take a little bit more than 'trying' to date. You need to want her, choose her."

You fell silent. Sooyoung likely saw the gears turning in your head.

"Maybe start there. If you wanna take her seriously, why would you? What's there to like about her?," she continued. "You're a sweet guy, really. You don't need to change a thing about yourself, for now at least. But you gotta make all of that choose her, or she'll never believe you."

Sooyoung's phone started ringing. "I'm so sorry," she remarked, "just remember what I said. Do it with purpose, and with someone who can appreciate you more thoroughly." She then stepped out, both literally and figuratively.

"Goodbye," you whispered to the empty seat in front of you.

=====

The little digital watch on your wrist beeped on the hour: 10PM. You were sitting on the rock in the middle of the neighborhood playground, an unopened bag of potato chips in hand a battery-powered mosquito lamp by your feet.

You shook your foot anxiously, and checked your phone again, probably the 12th time in the past 10 minutes.

You looked at your text to Rei: "Meet at the rock, 10PM" – the same message you've been sending her when you ask to see her, and the same unanswered message you've sent after that night. This was night #4.

A part of you wanted to leave it with finality, to accept Rei was fully done with your shit. She had every right to be, and you didn't think she was wrong for it. But you remembered Sooyoung's words: act with purpose.

10 minutes passed. Then another 10. You thought you heard someone heading to you, but it was just a lone night jogger. Then another 15.

A hooded figure suddenly walked up to the streetlight, wearing a pair of light pink pajama pants with a still indiscernible cartoon print and chunky rubber slides. Her face was obscured, but you didn't need to see it to know who it was. You stood up in... excitement? Frantic? The feeling didn't matter.

When Rei was finally right next to you, she had no makeup on, her eyes very puffy and reddish. Her face was scrunched into a scowl, but softened as you looked at her.

You reached out to hand her the potato chip bag. Without words, she grabbed it gingerly before taking a seat on the rock. You sat the same way, back against hers.

You struggled to find the words to say, the right ones at least. You wanted to say everything right away, that you were sorry and you were insensitive and self-centered.

Rei heaved a heavy sigh. "You can say anything you want," she replied. "Stop overthinking it."

You tried to angle your body a little bit more towards Rei. "Remember that night after the school play?"

Silence, though you heard her breathing sound shaky.

---

"Um... I want to leave the Science club."

You dropped your sandwich. "What?! B-but why?"

"Because... I just got into the school play," she said with a subdued smile.

You slammed your hands on the table excitedly. "Oh, forget the Science club! That's amazing! When's the show?"

"End of the year," she replied, loosening up to your cheer. "But I need to quit to focus on rehearsals and all."

"Yeah yeah, totally," you said, and hugged her tight without thinking. "I'm so happy for you!

---

"Hey Jen," you asked your cute friend in the Science club, "what's a good color of flower to give someone?"

She looked at you, puzzled. "Color?"

"Yeah," you continued. "Or type. Design? I don't know, I've never learned about flower names."

"Design?!," she replied incredulously. "So you've never heard of poinsettia? Chrysanthemum? Geranium? Jasmine??"

"Um... violets like the color? And roses!," you replied excitedly.

Jen slapped her forehead. "O-kay. And here you are in the Science club."

"I'm a chemistry guy, okay?," you defended yourself. "Please help me."

---

At the end of the show, you waited by the backstage with a handful of three white roses and three violets. You didn't have that much money, but you wanted to get Rei her favorite flowers – fortunately the only flowers you knew. Rei stood out well, delivering her lines with clearly and making everyone laugh with her witty lines. She deserved these flowers.

5 minutes passed. Then another 5. Then another actor came out, noticing you.

"Oh, you looking for Rei?," he asked. "She went out with her friends in the other direction. Sorry."

Without thinking, you texted her right away. "Meet at the rock, as soon as you can."

---

"I waited for you that night," you continued, "even if you'd left. I ran to this rock and waited, even if you were late, like actually late. Even if I was tired, and sweaty, and full of mosquito bites."

You heard Rei sniffling.

"Rei, I'm sorry," you said. "I wasn't... attentive. I was selfish. Or self-centered. Whatever the word is. I wasn't looking at what was right in front of me." You paused, trying to gauge if Rei was still capable of listening.

"I hope you believe me, but before everyone else it was you," you said, holding back your own tears. "That was almost 10 years ago. I'm not going to pretend that I currently reciprocate your feelings for me, but I want to try to bring back what I felt a long time ago."

Rei paused and sniffled. "I still have them."

"Huh?"

She pulled out her wallet and pulled out a folded piece of paper, with one rose and one violet dried up and pressed on it.

---

It was almost 11:30PM. You'd been waiting at the rock for almost 40 minutes. You'd rushed to the rock, no snacks or mosquito lamp or flashlight; just you.

Your legs were shaking. You felt your heart race only slightly slower than how it was waiting outside the backstage. You felt your fingers get cold, even when your palms were sweaty. You barely could sit still.

Of all the classmates you've ever liked, this feeling was the first you attached to one – and it was Rei.

You heard and saw a car drive up to her house, and saw a figure step out of it. You stood up, wanting to see the figure better, but there was no need – the figure started running hurriedly to your direction.

"Rei! You were–" you tried to say, before all of her crashed into you at full speed. You almost got knocked off your feet, if not for the rock catching your fall. Which hurt a bit, but you ignored with Rei's tight hug.

"I'm so sorry! My friends just whisked me away, I was actually looking for you, and–," she frantically replied.

"No, it's no bother, really! You were great! I got you these–," you said at the same time, before stopping and pushing Rei away in shocking realization.

"Ow! Hey, what was – oh no!," she exclaimed.

In your excitement, you hugged with the bouquet between you, the paper wrapping ripped apart by the moisture and the flower petals bent out of their original shape. When you let go of each other, it had fallen to your feet.

Rei looked at you, tears suddenly starting to well up. "I'm sorry...," she said softly, "I didn't–"

You picked up the flowers, offering it to Rei anyway, feeling your cheeks flush with heat and your heart thumping in your ears.

"I got you these," you said softly. "Sorry it's a bit... yeah."

She went in to hug you, making sure the flowers stayed in your hand and away from you while she did. She held you in a hug for a long while, both of you calming down.

---

You held the paper in your hands while Rei spoke.

"That night, when I got home, I remember pressing the flowers one by one," she explained, "and I remembered that with every flower I did, I was extra careful and extra giddy. And that's when I knew I liked you." You folded up the paper the way she did.

"I didn't really... have a crush on you or anything either," she continued, her body starting to face yours. "But a part of me kept thinking, 'if he asked you out, I'd say yes right away.' So I waited."

Rei looked away again. "Then you started going out with Jen," she added, her face more distraught. "Then that didn't work. Then there was that girl you met at your freshman mixer. Then it was... I don't know how many girls you talked to me about. But every single one felt like there was one thing I had but two things I didn't."

You started anxiously biting your nails. How had you not noticed this sooner? How could you completely have ignored someone who you ran to incessantly?

"But I stayed because you meant a lot to me too," Rei said. "I don't regret any of it. I don't hold it... no, I did hold it against you for a bit. A while. A long while. Maybe I still do, just a bit."

She fell silent. She wasn't crying anymore, but you could imagine her face looking very close to weeping.

"I guess all there's left to say is," she added, "I wanna give you a chance."

You didn't quite have the words, but your body was telling you to move, to act.

Grabbing her into fireman's carry, you lifted her with all your energy to sit onto your lap. "Whoa, hey, what are you doing?!," Rei reacted. You were now both face to face with each other, foreheads and cheeks pressed up. You felt the warmth of her breath, and paused.

This was it, the feeling that was missing. You went through every single time you went out with Sooyoung, then all the times you went out with Rei. You thought about all the places you'd gone with Jen, then remembered all the times you went there first with Rei. You remembered every single date you've been on, then brought yourself right back to this moment. Rei was the missing piece – the yearning for reciprocation, for recognition, for a sign, and like a puzzle she belonged right there, in your embrace.

You didn't even think too hard about what to do next. You planted your lips on hers, briefly — and everything felt right.

When you parted from her, she looked at you, stunned, for a whole second, before she closed her eyes and dove into your lips, for twice as long.

"Finally," Rei smirked, "thought you'd never figure it out."

You kept on kissing, the screeching of crickets and birds around you interrupted only by the smacking of your lips against one another. Rei's lips softly cushioned yours as your heads twisted, trying to push each other in more deeply than physically possible; but such was your appetite for her, and hers for you, yearning to dig deeper for everything that was just unearthed.

You released your grasp on her and she looked at you, her scowl dissipated by a more sincerely warm and toothy smile. She didn't have to explain anything further, all her feelings told by the smile plastered on her face.

"Rei, I'm–," you started, but silenced by a single finger on your lips.

"Stop," she butted in. "Save it for later. Just hold me first."

You brought in your thighs under her to hold her more closely, still cradling her like a baby. She wrapped an arm around your shoulder and nuzzled her face on yours, releasing all the aggression she had pent up.

Every time you shifted your position, she used her other hand to fix it back in place with a light slap. "Stop ruining my moment," she hissed, though her tone gave away that it was less hostile and more clingy.

She released you from her grip and stared at you again. "I'm ready to forgive you now," she said, a hint of sass audible in her voice.

"What an honor," you replied, rolling your eyes. She grabbed your face between her fingers, squeezing your cheeks.

"Shh," she rebutted, "you're not off the hook yet." She stood up, offering a hand to you.

You held it, though looked at her puzzled. "Wait, where are we going?"

"My room," she replied, starting to pull you towards her house.

"Wait, but your family–"

"Not home," Rei said curtly. "Just trust me."

You dropped your hesitations and let her pull you in, following her into her house, up the stairs, and into her room. The lights were off, and before your hand reached the switch, she stopped you.

"No," Rei said firmly, "I wanna do this in the dark." Your mind started racing – was this really happening? You've never gotten this far with a girl, you've never prepared for it either mentally or materially, but you weren't against the pace things were going. Maybe you were even excited.

In the shadows, you saw Rei take off her shirt, her silhouette only accented by the plain white walls and cabinets in the room. You saw the curves on her body, the way her breasts rested on her body, her bare legs and thighs smooth and slightly toned. She stood a bit awkwardly, but with purpose.

"I don't just want you to like me back," she replied firmly, "I wanna prove to you I'm better than all of them."

Rei stepped closer, her body only slightly illuminated by the moonlight streaming from her window.

"Do you want me like this?," she asked, her voice shaky.

"Y-yes," you stammered, still shocked at the pace of things.

Your heart raced. You knew Rei to be competitive, or at the very least petty enough to do the most out of spite. You couldn't possibly imagine how she was going to utilize that burning passion in the moment.

"Rei," you said, "are you sure you wanna do this right now?"

She stepped forward until she was face to face with you, her breath warm just inches from your face. She removed your shirt and pants, letting them fall to the floor. Her eyes pierced into yours.

"Yes," she said with determination, "I'm gonna make sure you never forget me."

Rei pushed you down by your shoulders to sit you on the bed, and knelt by your feet. She pulled down your underwear and let it sit by your feet, then crawled up in between your legs until her mouth was right up to your groin.

"Look at me," she spoke sternly.

Keeping her hands on your legs, she dipped down to catch your dick in her mouth, held in place in between her lips. With her lips almost vacuum sealed against the tip of your erection, she shoved her head into you, forcing your length in as if her mouth were immovably tight.

The feeling of her lips grazing against your length, lubricated by her tongue swirling around your shafted continuously, was incomparable. When you let go of her gaze to throw your head back in ecstasy, she dug her fingernails into your thighs to grab your attention.

Rei sucked you off with almost mechanical pace; she covered your length from base to under the tip with consistency, not so fast that she was ramming herself into you, but definitely slow enough the you weren't writhing and ramming yourself into her in chase of stimulation.

"Fuck, Rei, fuck," you reacted, watching her eyes stare unmoved from yours. Even when your legs trembled, her hands held you firmly in place. She even moved her hands down to your ankles and heels, wrapping her forearms behind your calves.

"Fuck, Rei, that's so good," you continued, her pace only slightly picking up. "Holy fuck, holy shit."

As you approached your climax, you started uncontrollably bucking your hips, as if chasing after her. Yet Rei continued at her pace, unchanged even with your disruptions. It was almost torturous keeping yourself from finishing.

"Rei, please, I wanna cum, I'm so close, faster," you begged.

"Mmm-mmm," she said, shaking her head. Still Rei continued at her pace, your head now fully facing up at the ceiling. Your eyes were wide open, even rolled up as you approached climax.

"Rei, Rei," you called out her name. "I'm gonna, I'm gonna–"

Then she stopped, popping her mouth out from your cock. You twitched for a few times, then your hips started bucking in search of her mouth, thighs shaking uncontrollably. Rei stared at you with a devilish grin, as if mocking your current state.

"Are you okay?" she asked, rubbing your thigh. You didn't even know what to reply; it felt good – amazing, even – up until that moment she denied it from you. You just stared at her, wide eyed, confused.

"Great," she replied with a smile. From her bedside table, she pulled out a lip tint, applying it to her lips until it glistened in the moonlight.

"Okay, let's mark that... one," she remarked, gingerly tracing a single, horizontal line on the inside of your bare leg with the tint. "Ready for number two?"

"Hold up, what do you mean number–" was all you could utter before Rei took your cock in her mouth a second time. She engulfed your dick in its entirety in one go, until her painted lips landed at the base of your groin.

She kept the suction in her mouth as she slowly – very slowly, almost dragging her lips across every vein on your shaft – lifted her head. When she got to the bottom of your swollen head, she released her lips and took your length in again, repeating the process.

You've never felt the sensation before: you were sensitive, still close to your orgasm; but you could feel something still pooling up within the base of your cock, even adding to what was already there just before she stopped sucking you.

After three more slow and gentle bobs of her head, Rei's lip tint left a faint stain around the base of your cock, wet from saliva and very much visible – like she had wanted to leave it there. She teased you a bit more, sucking only the half inch right under your head, before releasing it with a pop. Your mouthed barely formed a coherent sentence, overwhelmed still by the ticklish sensation on the underside of your shaft.

She released you briefly to purse her lips, keeping them moist, before resuming back at the same consistent pace she was at just earlier. Rei stared at you with unmoving, almost dismissive eyes; you felt her soft, luscious lips press up against your groin as they landed at the base of your dick. Her tongue pressed up on the underside of your shaft, the tip just barely tickling frenulum. All that, and you felt her pace pick up, her face slamming a tad lighter onto your body.

"Fuck, I wanna cum so bad, Rei," you groaned. "God, you're good at this." Rei chuckled with your dick still in her mouth, the vibrations adding stimulation.

Again, you neared your breaking point. Your breathing turned into loud gasping and moaning, until all you were saying was her name over and over again: "Rei, Rei, Rei." The suction on her lips broke as she smiled, now shoving your dick as far deep into her throat.

Except it didn't reach the back of her throat, Rei's face and nose instead slamming into your hips. Even when it was practically buried in your pubes, she still stared at you with hungry, lustful eyes.

"Rei, I'm gonna– fuck, I'm– hah, fuck–," you bumbled, your torso rocking back and forth as she continued to suck harder and faster. You could feel the swelling tide of cum in your shaft, ready to burst, and you bucked your hips in the air...

Then Rei stopped, again, releasing you from your grasp. Your hips stayed in the air, chasing after her mouth, and you groaned aloud in frustration. One, two droplets of white spilled from your tip, which Rei watched as it slid down your shaft. You reached a hand for your cock, intending to stroke yourself to completion, but Rei suddenly lunged at you, shoving you fully onto the bed.

"I told you I wasn't gonna make you forget me," she said mischievously. "But you owe me for making me cry my eyes out the whole week."

You gasped for air, out of breath from being denied a second orgasm, but you didn't move as proof of submission. She grabbed a long ribbon from a drawer and sat you up, tying your hands behind your back. She made you sit with your back to the headboard of her bed, reapplied her lip tint, and drew another line down from the previous one on your thigh. "That's two," she cooed.

Now you felt a pain in your groin, like from the denial. You still felt a load ready to come out with the right amount of coaxing, but judging from Rei's treatment that wasn't going to come easy.

She took you in her mouth again, this time going even slower than before. Unlike the second time, where she was more frantic and hasty, she returned to her pace from when she started – mechanical, consistent, tantalizing.

But this time the sensation on your dick was different. It tickled, almost painfully, but in a stimulating way – you wanted it to keep going and end right now.

Still Rei sucked on, her lips covered in spit. She started to spill so much drool from her mouth that it began coating your shaft, slowly dripping over your balls and onto the bed. The trails left behind were cold in the air, even when it started spilling onto your taint.

Now you were seated completely on the bed, legs splayed outwards, while Rei laid on her stomach. You could see her ass in the dark, not wide but definitely sizable, like you could grab a whole handful of it. You've never noticed these features on Rei – not her boobs or her butt, maybe her thighs the few times your hormonal teenager self ogled at all the girls in your PE class – but you realize now that she was just as hot as a lot of the girls you've dated.

She let go of your cock to flick it with her finger a single time. "Ow! What the fuck was that for?!," you whined.

"I said, look at me," Rei growled, swallowing your dick whole right as she said it. The sharp pain from the flick actually made the load welling up in your shaft retreat, and now you weren't sure if she was grabbing attention or keeping your orgasm delayed again – maybe even both.

That delay never came. She picked up her pace again, the pain in your balls increasing as you could feel them trying to squeeze out a third one. Though it welled again at your base, you now felt all of your cum fill up your length, from base to tip. As Rei's sucking continued, you felt yourself twitch, and you swore that the trails of saliva she left started turning whiter.

"Rei, please, I'm so close," you begged. "I wanna cum so bad..."

"Keep begging," she muttered, as she picked up her pace yet again.

"Rei, you suck me so well, holy fucking shit," you praised, hoping that would encourage her to let you actually finish. "Your face looks so fucking hot while you take me whole."

Rei started moaning at your words, and you notice one of her hands, while the other was wrapped firmly around your base, was in between her legs. Each moan she made only brought you closer to finishing.

"Please, Rei," you begged, "I wanna cum so bad, I wanna cum for you so bad..."

Rei let her mouth go of your dick and started licking your frenulum vigorously. The extra sensation was enough to start breaking the dam, and your mouth blubbered to make sure she knew that "I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum– agh!"

With one final thrust in the air, you burst, as Rei's hand around your base let go. For a split second, you swore time slowed down as you saw your cumshot burst into the air – which you've never, ever seen – then another, and another, and another. The sudden ecstasy of your release made you increasingly lightheaded, almost blanking out

After what felt like minutes, you came to, and Rei's face was completely drenched in white, viscous globs of cum, dripping onto her chin. Her mouth, agape as she caught her breath, bore strings of cum that spanned her lips, trembling with every pant she made.

You stared at each other. She smiled in satisfaction, licking her lips and lapping up all the cum she could with her tongue. You finally found the presence of mind to laugh, your high fully felt as it coursed through your bones. "Holy fuck, that was amazing," you remarked, and Rei gave you her toothy smile in pleasure.

She pulled out her tint again to mark your leg – a single line right next to the second, now looking like T mixed with an F. "That's three," she chuckled, "you're crazy, you know that?" You breathed heavily, gasping for air, still laughing.

Without warning, Rei gobbled up your dick again, now doubly aggressive than how she sucked you prior. Your eyes widened, your abdomen crunched, and your hips tried to retreat into the bed, only being stopped by said bed against Rei's relentless bobbing.

You writhed and laughed as the sensation turned more ticklish, as your shaft felt every ridge on Rei's lips rub against it. You laughed, groaned, even yelped as the sensation blended into the pain in your balls from being wrung dry.

"Rei– hah, stop! Fuck, stop!," you begged. Rei groaned her rejection of your request, replacing her mouth with the quick stroking of her hand.

"Come on, take it," she taunted. "You owe me all of it."

Your body twisted and contorted from the extreme sensation. But surprisingly, you could still feel something welling up in your shaft – your release merely held back by the ticklish sensation.

Rei rubbed you faster, scraping off some cum from her face onto yours until it was slick, sliding, and squelching with her grasp.

"One last," she reassured, "give it to me. I want it all over my face. I want it all over my mouth. I wanna feel your seed all over me. Make me yours. Mark me. Claim me."

Your writhing was frantic and aggressive. If not for Rei's weight on your legs you would have shaken yourself free, but your arms were still held back. No amount of retreat stopped Rei's unrelenting stroking.

"You're mine," she growled, taking your whole length in one last time. That last line of dirty talk was all you needed, and you cum another – a fourth? – time. It disappeared into Rei's mouth, but when she let go, a few streaks of drippy, clear fluid left a trail around your tip.

You panted, eyes heavy from exhaustion and ecstasy and head buzzing. You felt Rei trace another line inside your thigh. "Four," she teased, "if only we could make that five." Worn out as you were, you felt your dick twitch still, the prospect of being used by Rei surprisingly a turn on.

Rei clicked her tongue at the sight of you, slowly kissing your sensitive cock. Each one was light and cold at each touch, making you twitch and shudder harder and harder as she continued. She giggled as she continued, picking up the pace.

You heaved to catch your breath. "You're... very... pleased... despite... being sad..."

Rei paused her kissing. "Sad? I wasn't sad," she replied, dragging her tongue from the base of your cock to your tip, with a slow, dick-achingly long drag. "More frustrated. I've wanted you for so long and you kept wanting others. Now that you're mine, I'm never letting you go."

You laughed in panic. "Okay, I'm sorry... Fuck, I've never... never had a blowjob... like that.."

Rei giggled as she made another long stroke on your dick, your groans even louder behind hard-gritted teeth.

"You sound like you're in pain," she cooed, her tone seemingly mocking you. "You want me to stop?" she dragged her tongue once again, intent to continue until you stopped her. But you said nothing, merely groaning and gasping for air, eyes almost watering at how sensitive you felt. And Rei loved watching you squirm.

Like the end to an elaborate ritual, Rei took your dick in her mouth fully, wrapping her lips tightly around your head, forcing it through her mouth, and keeping the seal tight around your shaft – the same way she started. Inside her tongue did most of the work, stroking the full underside of your dick as she bobbed her head gently up and down the lower half of your shaft.

Painfully, you squirmed, feeling something pool at your base. "Fuck, stop! I'm gonna– fuck!"

Before you realized it, you squirted into Rei's mouth – squirted, meaning you felt a sharp jet of liquid spray out of your dick. Rei had let go of you just before you did, the fluids coating her face, your torso, your thighs, and the bedsheets.

With that, you let out a single laugh, and felt the ringing and the blackness in your field of view take over.

=====

When you woke up, the sun was almost about to rise. On Rei's bedside, her alarm clock read 5:39AM.

You tried to get up by propping yourself up with your hands – revealing that your bindings have been removed. Your groin ached and your member felt sore and sensitive, and you groaned to summon all the strength you had in you to get up.

Hobbling to the bathroom, you realize your skin felt surprisingly clean. You had been sweating and drenched in all manner of ejaculate last night, yet you felt like you'd taken a clean shower.

When you got to the bathroom, you turned on the faucet and rubbed your face, trying to wash the grogginess out of your system. When you opened your eyes, however, you found a little surprise: Rei left her lip tint counter on your thigh, the lines now forming the character 正. Around the base of your dick was a pink stain, the same ones caused by Rei's lips.

You grinned instantly – she accomplished her mission. "God damn," you muttered to yourself, "definitely the best blowjob I've had."

"Good," Rei replied, suddenly waiting at the door. You jumped, instinctively hiding your crotch in your hands. Rei tossed you your underwear and pants, and you swiftly put them on. She however wore your shirt, which fit her nicely – stretching down just past her hips that she was fully, but just barely, covered up.

She held your hands in hers, swinging them playfully. "I think I went... a little overboard last night..."

"You think?," you laughed at her.

She tilted her head and looked away. "Well... maybe I planned to go overboard..." She could barely hide her smirk.

You rolled your eyes. "I sure hope I've apologized sufficiently then."

"Hmmm," Rei replied cheekily, "take me out on a date first. Then we're even."

You embraced Rei tenderly, rubbing your hands on her back as she rubbed her face into your chest. Things felt right – for once you weren't just giving, but receiving twice over.

"I'm sorry for taking you for granted, Rei," you said softly into her hair.

"It's okay," she said, her face squished into your bare chest. "Don't go."

You held Rei by the shoulders and stared at her. She smiled from ear to ear, her eyes squished so much she looked like she couldn't even see. That's the Rei you liked.

"So," you replied, "how about we go clothes shopping?"

—————

[prettyfilmz]

SWEET LIKE CANDY 6 • JEY USO

author's note: i'm baaaaaaack! I am so so sorry for the long awaited update, school truly put me through the ringer these past few weeks but thankfully everything is starting to settle down which means more frequent updates!!! part 6 honestly also took so long because I am high key a perfectionist and keep on finding things to add and revise but trust me when I say you are in for a delicious treat. thank you so much for all of your love and support and happy reading my loves☺️💗

synopsis: in which a celebration at the strip club leads to the beginning of a love affair between a wrestler and a dancer.

pairing: jey uso x black fem!oc (cherise dupree aka candy)

tags: 18+ (MDNI) angst, tears, talks of past predatory behaviors, grooming, financial abuse, small bit of violence in the beginning, crashout jey uso™, cherise needs a hug and jey is willing to give her that and more, "I love you", unprotected sex (be smart people!), pussy eating, fingering, praise, love bites, lots of kissing and touching, daddy kink (although very minimal), multiple orgasms, multiple positions, dirty talk, body worship, squirting, creampie, hand holding, aftercare, pet names (baby girl, mama, pretty girl, baby), fluffy aftercare, bubble baths, massages, pillow talk, jey is really taking care of our girl in this one.

word count: 10.6k words

read part one here!

read part two here!

read part three here!

read part four here!

read part five here!

soundtrack playlist

Cherise’s breath hitched.

Her eyes were locked on Jey’s hands. Big, bruised, still clenched tightly around Tremaine’s collar. The man lay crumpled on the gym floor, face swollen, nose bleeding, one eye already purple and nearly shut.

She barely registered Jimmy holding Jey back, the tense lines in his shoulders, the warning in his voice. All she could focus on was Jey’s chest rising and falling, the way his jaw clenched, teeth bared, eyes dark and wild with rage.

She’d seen Jey angry before. Seen him in the ring, all aggression and snarling confidence. Like a lion staking its claim. But this? This was different.

And the craziest part?

It shouldn’t have made her feel this way, shouldn’t have sent heat curling low in her belly, shouldn’t have made her pulse flutter the way it did. But seeing Jey…her Jey…furious, defending her honor like this, looking every bit of the protector she needed?

Fuck.

Something warm and thrilling shivered down her spine, heat blooming in her cheeks.

“Joshua,” she whispered, her voice soft, almost pleading.

Jey’s head snapped up at the sound of her voice. His eyeswild and dark just seconds before softened immediately, flickering with recognition and something else. Something vulnerable.

“Cherise,” he breathed, voice raw.

Her hands shook, fingers instinctively reaching out, brushing his cheek, coaxing his eyes away from Tremaine’s battered, bleeding body and back to her.

“Hey,” she murmured, voice gentler now. “C’mon, baby. Let him go. He ain’t worth it.”

Jey’s jaw clenched, his eyes flickering between her and Tremaine. But her touch, soft and warm against his cheek, seemed to anchor him, seemed to pull him back from the brink. His fingers flexed once, twice, before he finally released his grip with a low, frustrated snarl.

Tremaine crumpled to the floor with a pained groan, curling in on himself.

Jey’s hands were still shaking, his breath coming out in ragged pants. But he didn’t move. Didn’t look away from her. Just stared, eyes dark and tormented, chest heaving, like he was terrified she might vanish if he blinked.

“Come on,” Cherise whispered, threading her fingers through his, tugging him gently back. “We need to talk.”

Jey hesitated, gaze darting between her and Tremaine’s crumpled body. But when she squeezed his hand, soft and sure, he exhaled, shoulders slumping. His fingers tightened around hers, warm and rough and unsteady.

Jimmy and Trinity stood beside one another, with raised brows, glancing between two with a look that screamed “I told you so.”

But Jey just shook his head, muttering something low and dark under his breath before letting Cherise pull him towards the door.

♡

The drive back to her apartment was quiet.

Not the sharp, suffocating silence from before but something softer, laden with unspoken words and stolen glances. Cherise’s fingers twisted in the sleeves of Jey’s hoodie, the one she’d swiped weeks ago, still smelling faintly like him.

Jey’s knuckles were raw and bruised, gripping the steering wheel in a tight vice. His bottom lip busted from one of Tremaine’s desperate swings, split on one side, a smear of crimson painting the curve of his mouth.

But he didn’t seem to notice or care. Didn’t flinch. His eyes stayed fixed on the road, but every few minutes, they flickered to her—quick, worried, aching.

Cherise’s chest tightened.

She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Hadn’t meant for Jey to get involved, to see the ugliest, most broken parts of her past. Hadn’t meant for him to bleed for her.

But God, the way he’d fought without hesitation, without mercy just because someone had dared to hurt her?

That did something dangerous to her heart.

She exhaled shakily, staring at her hands. “You’re bleeding,” she mumbled, voice small.

Jey’s eyes flicked to her, brows furrowing. “Ain’t nothin’, mama,” he muttered, but his voice was softer now, less rough around the edges.

Cherise bit her lip, fingers twisting tighter in the sleeves of his hoodie. “Let me take care of it,” she whispered.

Jey hesitated, jaw flexing. But then he exhaled, shoulders sagging.

“…Aight, baby girl.”

♡

Jey didn’t want to sit down.

In fact, he seemed more interested in pacing laps around her living room, shoulders bunched tight with restless energy, every few seconds running a hand over his face and scowling at the floor like it had personally wronged him.

Cherise watched him from the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, with a look of concern. Her eyes flickered to his busted lip, the bruise darkening on his cheek, and guilt twisted sharp in her stomach.

“You’re gonna reopen it if you keep doing that,” she muttered quietly, her voice soft.

Jey paused mid-step, turning to look at her, brows furrowing. “Huh?”

She gestured to his mouth, teeth sinking into her bottom lip. “You keep licking it. You’re gonna make it worse.”

He blinked, like he hadn’t even realized he was doing it, then huffed, scowl deepening. “Ain’t nothin’. I’m fine.”

Cherise rolled her eyes. “Sit down.”

“Cherise.”

“Joshua.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. But then he sighed, grumbling under his breath, and finally, finally, dropped onto the couch beside her, knees spread, arms folded over his chest.

She bit back a smile, scooting a little closer, fingers twitching nervously in her lap. “Lemme see.”

“I said I’m fine, baby,” he muttered, though the way his eyes flickered to her lips said otherwise.

“Stop bein’ stubborn,” she huffed, cupping his jaw and turning his face gently towards her.

He froze, eyes going wide, breath hitching. And for a second, just a split second, his eyes dipped to her mouth, and Cherise’s pulse skipped.

Focus.

She leaned in, her thumb brushing carefully over his split lip, brow furrowing at the way he winced. “You’re not fine, dumbass,” she muttered softly. “This is gonna need peroxide.”

Jey snorted. “I had worse.”

“Don’t care,” she mumbled, rising to grab her first aid kit. “Sit still.”

Jey didn’t move when she walked back in.

Didn’t speak.

Just sat there, elbows on his thighs, jaw tight as his fingers laced together, bouncing anxiously. His entire body was still humming with leftover adrenaline. He could feel it in the twitch of his fists, the tightness in his chest, the ringing silence left in Tremaine’s wake.

And Cherise?

Cherise looked like she was about to cry again.

Not like earlier. Not like at the gym, when she’d rushed into the room like a woman possessed, like she was scared of what he might do. This was different. Softer. Quieter. Like something inside her had finally cracked open, and she didn’t know how to hold the pieces together anymore.

She knelt between his knees, first aid kit in her lap, and let her fingers brush gently under his chin.

“C’mere.”

Jey blinked down at her. “I said I’m—”

“If you say you’re fine one more time, Joshua…” Her voice was low, shaky, but laced with that same fire he always adored. “I swear to God, I will slap the lip off your face myself.”

He smirked. “Damn. You nursin’ me or threatenin’ me?”

“Both.”

“Soundin’ real toxic, mama.”

She rolled her eyes, but the tiniest curve tugged at her mouth. “You seem to like it though.”

“Mhmm.” His voice was low, but his eyes never left hers. “I do.”

Cherise swallowed hard and turned her attention to his lip. The cut was small but deep, split open just on the right side, already swelling. A small bruise was blooming along his cheekbone, and there was dried blood at the corner of his mouth.

She hated it.

Hated knowing it was her fault he was like this.

“This gon’ sting,” she whispered.

“I’m good.”

“You always say that,” she muttered, dabbing the antiseptic on a cotton pad.

And when it touched the fragile skin, he flinched just a little.

Her brows drew together. “See?”

Jey grunted, his shoulders twitching. “Aight, you was right. That shit burn.”

“Mm. That’s what you get,” she murmured, her voice smaller now. “Stupid.”

Jey huffed a quiet laugh, watching her. His gaze flickered over her face, her lashes, the crease in her brows, the tension in her jaw. Her lips were tight, pressed together like she was holding something in. Like she was trying not to cry.

“You okay, mama?” he asked quietly.

Cherise didn’t answer.

She just kept cleaning, her fingers gentle, careful, brushing beneath his jaw, her eyes focused on anything but him.

Jey reached up, stilling her hand. “Cherise.”

She swallowed hard.

He used her name. Not Candy. Not some nickname of endearment. Just…her. And it hit something deep in her chest, something raw and old and broken.

“I’m okay,” she said quietly, dabbing the cotton against the busted corner of his lip once more.

He winced, but didn’t move.

“Lyin’,” he muttered.

She let out a soft breath. “Yeah. Kinda.”

He didn’t push. Just let her tend to him in silence, his hands resting on her thighs for balance, fingers splayed wide, warm and grounding.

"You really went after him," she whispered after a beat, her eyes flicking up to meet his. "You didn’t even hesitate."

Jey’s jaw clenched. “I told you. I ain’t lettin’ nobody play wit’ you like that.”

Her hand stilled. “You coulda got arrested, Joshua. You could’ve—he could press charges.”

“Let him,” he said, voice sharp. “Let that bitch press somethin’. He won’t walk straight for a month. I’ll take that case proud.”

Cherise gave him a look, half stern, half…helplessly soft. Because under all that fire, all that fury, was something real. Something hers.

"You didn’t have to do all that."

“Yes I did.” His voice dropped lower. “You ain’t see your face, Cherise. When you saw him. The way you froze up. The way you damn near disappeared on me in real time.”

She looked down.

“Baby,” he murmured, grasped her free hand. “What did he do to you?”

Her breath hitched.

“I ain’t askin’ to poke around in your pain,” he said gently. “I’m askin’ ‘cause I want you to let me hold some of it.”

Cherise’s throat closed.

She looked up at him, really looked, and saw nothing but sincerity. Kindness. Patience.

And love, maybe.

Even if he hadn’t said it yet.

Her hand trembled in his. “He…he made me hate myself.”

Jey’s gaze didn’t waver. “Tell me, mama.”

Her hands dropped to her lap.

She sat back, still on her knees between his legs, and stared at the floor for a long moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.

“I was eighteen,” she said quietly. “Young. Dumb. Thought I knew everything. And Tremaine…he was older. Charming. Said all the right things.”

Jey’s fingers tightened slightly on her thigh, but he said nothing.

“He used to buy me things. Clothes, food, let me crash at his place when I didn’t wanna go home. Told me he believed in me. That he wanted to help me get into nursing school after I graduated college. That I was special.”

Her voice cracked.

“But I wasn’t special. Not to him. I was just moldable.”

Jey’s jaw clenched. She saw it from the corner of her eye.

“He’s the one who put the idea of dancing in my head,” she said. “Told me it was empowering. Told me it would help me pay for school, give me control over my own life and I trusted him.”

Jey brushed his thumb along her thigh, slow, reassuring.

“But it was never really mine. He chose the name. Candy.” Her lip curled, disgusted.

Jey lifted a brow. “Why that?”

“I used to keep candy in my purse.” She glanced up, her eyes glassy but dry. “When I was little. I’d have very bad anxiety. Couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, couldn’t breathe. So my dad used to buy me these lil’ peppermints. Said if I started panickin’, I should take one. Focus on the taste. Let it ground me.” She paused, her voice hitching. “It was stupid, but it helped.”

Jey nodded and let her continue.

“After he died, I started keepin’ ‘em with me everywhere. Even now, I still got some in my bag.” Her voice cracked. “It made me feel safe, I guess. Like…like I could control somethin’. Like maybe I wouldn’t spiral if I had somethin’ sweet on my tongue.”

Her voice hardened a little as she let herself finally unpack the baggage she held onto for years. “I told him about the candies one night—dumb, I know—and next thing I know, I show up to the club for my first shift and he’s like, ‘Yo, Candy. That’s your name now.’” Her mouth twisted. “Candy sounded like temptation. Like somethin’ you ain’t supposed to have. Somethin’ sweet you suck on. His words, not mine.”

Jey’s jaw ticked.

Cherise looked down at her hands. “I hated it. Hated how easy it was to let him talk me into everything. ‘You got a pretty face, baby. That’s money right there.’ ‘You don’t gotta do nothin’ you don’t wanna do.’ ‘It’s just dancin’, Cherise. You ain’t fuckin’ nobody.’” Her voice turned bitter. “But it was never just dancin’. Not to him.”

Jey leaned forward slowly, elbows resting on his knees, his hands coming to rest gently on her thighs.

“He made you feel like you didn’t have a choice,” Jey said softly. His voice low and sure, as his fingers stayed wrapped around her thighs like he was trying to keep her grounded. To keep her here.

Cherise nodded slowly, her throat tight. “He ain’t just made me feel like it… He took my choices. Like they were his to begin with.”

She paused, her nails digging gently into her palms. “He used to do this thing where he called me by my name when I did somethin’ he didn’t like, and Candy when I was what he needed me to be.”

Her lips twisted.

“After a while, I stopped even hearing Cherise. Felt like…she ain’t even exist no more. Like she died the day my mom did.”

Jey’s expression looked pained at the sentence.

Cherise scoffed to herself. “Yeah. That’s what he said too. Said Cherise was too soft and scared. Said Candy was the one who knew how to survive.”

Jey’s jaw flexed tightly. Almost as if he has the urge to run out and hunt the bastard down for round two.

“And the worst part is?” she said, her voice cracking. “I started believing him. I started separating the two in my head like I had to kill off the soft part of me just to make it out. Like my mother didn’t die bringing me into this world, so I could fuckin’ live in it.”

Her vision blurred again, her breathing shallow.

“And then that party…” Her voice was a whisper now, barely there. “That was when I realized I was just a prop to him.”

Jey leaned forward, his hands sliding gently up her thighs, grasping onto one of her hands, waiting patiently.

“He invited me out like we was goin’ somewhere fancy—told me to wear somethin’ cute, somethin’ tight. Like it was a lil’ dinner date. Said he wanted to treat me for being good.”

Jey’s expression darkened.

“I showed up lookin’ nice. Real nice. Hair pressed and curled, heels on, this red dress I bought with the tips I hid from him.” She laughed bitterly. “And I walk in with him to this suite in Buckhead… and it’s a fuckin’ bachelor party.”

She paused.

“My name was already on the damn flyer.”

Jey blinked. “Flyer?”

“They printed flyers, Jey. My face. My stage name. ‘Special guest: Candy.’ And he never told me. Never asked. Just… threw me to the wolves. Gave me a g-string and a bottle of liquor and told me to make him look good.”

Her throat bobbed. She could barely speak now.

“I ain’t never felt that small in my life,” she whispered. “They was shoutin’, laughin’, throwin’ money before I even touched the pole. One of his boys grabbed me…like full on grabbed me and Tremaine just stood there. Watchin’. Smilin’ like he was bein’ turned on by me being uncomfortable.”

Cherise didn’t notice the way her voice cracked. The way her face crumpled. The way the first tear slipped down her cheek until it landed right on his thigh. “And when I decided to leave him for good, He ran off with all of my money. Every dollar I was savin’ for school. He claimed I ‘owed’ him. That it was his severance package or some dumb shit.”

“I’m twenty eight and I’m still trying to pull my eighteen year old self out of that room. And I never got to tell my story. People just assumed I was fast. That I liked it. But I was groomed, Jey. I was a kid.”

The last word broke something inside her.

And maybe it was the way he stayed so still.

Maybe it was the way his hand didn’t leave hers, or the way his thumb brushed over her knuckles, slow and soft.

He rested his forehead against hers, his hands gripping her thighs.

“I’m sorry, Cherise” he whispered, voice raw. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”

Tears slipped down her cheeks, and this time, she didn’t hide them. She didn’t pull away when Jey leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then the wet corner of her eye.

“I didn’t let Candy die though,” she whispered. “I remade her.”

She looked up then, her eyes red rimmed but defiant.

“I made her mine.”

“I picked my own outfits. My own music. I stopped dancin’ for money and started dancin’ for control. I started sayin’ no. I made my own schedule. I got selective with my dances, who I gave my energy to. Candy became someone I chose to be. Not someone I had to be to survive.”

Her voice thickened. “You remember that night when we met? And I picked you for VIP?”

Jey nodded slowly.

“I picked you,” she whispered. “Because I saw something soft in your eyes. Not just hunger. You didn’t look at me like I was somethin’ to consume. You looked at me like I was worth bein’ seen.”

“And when I saw you again after all that time,” she murmured, “I thought maybe… just maybe, I could let someone in. Let you in. But then Tremaine showed up.”

Jey’s expression shifted to something dark and protective. “He was at your apartment?”

“He came to my door, Jey,” she whispered. “Three weeks ago. That’s why I pushed you away.”

Jey’s face turned cold, but he didn’t interrupt. He just kept his hand on her skin, like he was holding her safely…grounding her.

“I wanted to believe you were different,” she choked out. “But when he said all that shit…about you just wantin’ what I could give you? It just…it felt too real. Like maybe I was stupid for thinkin’ this could be more.”

“Nah,” Jey said sharply, his voice low and certain. “Never.”

Cherise blinked. “But why?”

Jey pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“You really think I’m that kinda dude?”

Cherise shook her head quickly. “No. I don’t. Not really. I just…I didn’t think someone like you could want someone like me.”

Jey face fell. His voice dropped, low and thick.

“Why not?”

“‘Cause you’re Jey Uso,” she exclaimed. “You’re world tours. You’re stadium lights. You’re championships. And I’m just someone tryin’ to piece her life back together.”

“You not just anything,” he said, his voice a growl. “You are everything. You hear me?”

Cherise blinked almost as if she couldn’t believe what she is hearing.

“I saw you,” he murmured. “From the jump. And you ain’t never had to pick between Candy and Cherise for me. I want all of it, baby girl. Every version of you. The one who smiles soft, and the one who bites back.”

She inhaled shakily, her fingers tightening around his.

“I ain’t just tryna see you naked in the club,” he said, brushing his thumb over her lips, careful of the bruise. “I’m tryna see you in the morning light. In scrubs. With your books all laid out on that little ass coffee table I organized.”

Cherise let out a breathy laugh through the tears, covering her face. “You really did organize my shit…”

“I did.” He smirked gently. “Color-coded and everything which..you welcome.”

She giggled into her hands, her voice watery and broken and warm.

“You paid my tuition,” she whispered, finally letting the words out.

Jey’s smile faltered. He sat back a little, resting his elbows on his knees, eyes still on hers.

“I did.”

“Why?”

He was quiet for a second, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

“Because you deserve it,” he said simply.“It shouldn’t take a miracle or working yourself to death for you to get what you need. You was already fightin’ for it on your own and I just wanted to make it a little easier.”

Cherise’s throat closed. “That’s a lot of money, Jey.”

“I know.”

“You ain’t even tell me.”

“Didn’t want to. It wasn’t about credit, mama. It was about you.” His voice dropped. “All I wanted was to see you win and succeed.”

Her lip trembled, and she reached for him before she could stop herself, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and burying her face in the crook of his neck. He caught her instantly, arms strong around her back, his hands cradling her like she was something precious.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m so so sorry, Jey.”

“Nah,” he murmured, pressing his lips to her temple. “You ain’t gotta apologize for protectin’ your peace.”

“I thought I had to do it all alone.”

“You don’t.” His voice was thick, trembling at the edges. “Not no more.”

Cherise sniffled, pulling back just enough to look at him and her eyes dropped to his arm, the butterfly inked on the inside of his bicep.

Her breath caught.

“You put that in the note.”

“I did,” he murmured, eyes on hers. “I knew you’d know it was me.”

Her fingers reached out, tracing the soft lines of the tattoo, her touch feather-light. “Why the butterfly?”

His lips curled.

“Because they survive shit they ain’t supposed to,” he said softly. “They start out as somethin’ small and ugly and stuck, but when it’s time? They grow wings and fly.”

Cherise couldn’t breathe.

Jey leaned in slowly, brushing his forehead to hers, their noses grazing. “You my butterfly, baby.”

Her breath hitched. “Jey…”

“Yes, baby?” he responds, lips ghosting over hers.

“…Please stay.” she whispers against his lips.

Jey didn’t hesitate to capture her lips with his own.

♡

The bedroom was dim.

Quiet.

Soft shadows stretched across the walls, the room smelling faintly like vanilla and her body butter. Cherise’s curls were tied up high, but a few strands had fallen loose around her face. Her cheeks were still flushed, her full lips parted slightly as she watched him from the foot of the bed.

Jey’s eyes raked over her slowly.

From the delicate slope of her shoulders to the curve of her waist under the hoodie, to the thick thighs visible just beneath the hem, bare and gleaming from where she’d been curled against him earlier.

His voice came out low. Rough.

“You sure, mama? We don’t have to-”

She cut him off with a nod. One, slow but sure. “I’m sure. I’m done runnin’.”

He stepped closer, slow and deliberate, lifting a hand to trace the line of her jaw with his thumb. Her skin was warm beneath his touch, eyes fluttering as his palm slid to cup her cheek.

“Aight,” he murmured, dipping his head.

“I’ma take my time then.”

The kiss wasn’t urgent.

It was deep. Slow. All tongue and teeth and soft moans slipping between them as Cherise melted against him.

Her fingers curled into his shirt, tugging him closer until there was no space between their bodies. Just heat and tension and years of wanted to be loved the right way finally unraveling at the seams.

Jey growled low when her hips brushed his, his hands sliding up under the hoodie, palms dragging over soft, bare skin.

“You got nothin’ on under here?” he murmured against her mouth.

“Maybe.”

“Girl…”

His hands roamed higher until they found the curve of her waist, thumbs brushing the sides of her ribs. His breath hitched when he felt the under curve of her breasts which were bare, soft, and warm.

Cherise smirked against his lips. “Listen…I was comfy before I ran out to stop you from killing that man.”

“Seems like you tryna kill me tonight,” Jey muttered, kissing her harder.

She let out a breathless laugh that turned into a gasp as he slid the hoodie up over her head, lifting her arms and dragging it free in one smooth motion.

Then he froze.

Jey’s gaze raked over her bare chest like a man starving.

God, she was beautiful.

Rich brown skin soft and glowing in the lamplight. Full breasts, heavy, topped with deep brown nipples already stiff from anticipation. The soft curve of her belly, the stretch of her waist, the plush of her thighs.

He took a step back just to look.

“You gon’ make me say it again,” he muttered, licking his lips. “Damn, mama.”

Cherise flushed, but didn’t cover herself. Not this time.

Not with the way he was lookin’ at her.

Not when she could see admiration in his eyes.

“I’m nothin’ special,” she whispered.

Jey’s head snapped up.

He stepped forward, slid his arms around her waist, and lifted her onto the edge of the bed like she weighed nothing.

Then he knelt between her thighs and looked up at her with that same focused intensity he gave the first night they met.

“Lemme tell you somethin’,” he said, voice low. “You everything, baby girl. I ain’t never wanted nobody like I want you. You sittin’ up here actin’ like you regular, and I’m out here ready to go to war over you girl.”

Cherise let out a soft laugh but it caught in her throat when his mouth pressed to her chest.

Jey kissed her breast first, soft and slow. His tongue flicked over her nipple, teasing it until it hardened, then he sucked it between his lips, deep and slow, like he wanted to taste every inch.

Cherise gasped, her hand flying to the back of his head.

“J-Joshua…”

“Mmm,” he hummed, switching sides, letting his teeth graze the peak before sucking it again.

The pressure, the heat, the devotion in the way he kissed her made her whole body tighten. Her thighs shifted, hips rolling forward just slightly as he mouthed and licked over the swells of her chest like she was dessert.

“You taste so good, baby,” he murmured, dragging his tongue down her sternum. “So fuckin’ soft. Got me losin’ my mind.”

Cherise whimpered as he laid her back slowly on the mattress, climbing up to hover over her.

His shirt was still on so she tugged it.

“You always got somethin’ to pull off me,” he teased, stripping it in one smooth motion.

And when his shirt dropped to the floor, God, she could have sworn her mouth watered.

The tattoos, the muscle, the sheer weight of him above her. The way the butterfly curled just inside his bicep.

He caught her staring.

“You still thinkin’ ‘bout that note?”

She nodded.

“I ain’t write that just to be cute,” he said softly. “I wrote it ‘cause it’s real. You really do deserve all this. You deserve me takin’ my time wit’ you. You deserve to be held right.”

He dipped his head, lips brushing her jaw.

“Kissed right.”

Down her neck.

“Tasted right.”

His tongue traced her collarbone, slow, teasing.

“Loved right.”

Cherise’s body arched as he pressed his lips lower.

Jey’s mouth dragged down the soft slope of her belly, his hands spreading wide over the plush of her thighs, his palms so big they made her look even softer beneath him.

Cherise trembled.

The cool air kissed over her damp skin, every inch of her buzzing from the slow trail of his kisses. She could feel his breath ghosting over the waistband of her panties . The delicate lace in deep red, damp in the center from how long she’d been aching for him.

Jey’s fingers slid under the waistband, and he looked up at her. Controlled. Focused. Dangerous.

“You want this off, baby?” he murmured, voice low and full of promise.

Cherise nodded, but he didn’t move.

“Use them words, pretty girl.”

Her breath caught. “Yes. Please.”

“Mmm.” Jey’s smirk deepened, and he tugged the lace down her thighs slow, like he was unwrapping a gift he’d waited too long to open.

And when he saw her?

Spread open, glistening, already soaked for him?

His mouth dropped open like he’d just seen God.

“Shit, mama…” he groaned, dragging two fingers slowly along her folds, collecting the slick there, then rubbing small, gentle circles over her clit. “You already this wet for me?”

Cherise whimpered, hips twitching.

“I missed you,” she whispered.

Jey chuckled darkly, leaning in, his lips brushing over her inner thigh. “Say less.”

Then he lowered his mouth to her.

The first stroke of his tongue was slow and deep. Cherise gasped, her thighs flexing instinctively around his head, but Jey didn’t stop. He just gripped her hips tighter, holding her in place as he devoured her.

Long, lazy licks through her velvety folds, flicks of his tongue over her clit, then back down again, teasing her open, tasting her like it was his purpose of living .

“F-fuck…” she moaned, her head tipping back against the pillows.

He was relentless. Every flick of his tongue was intentional. Every moan he pulled from her was earned.

And he loved every second of it.

“Mm,” Jey hummed against her, his voice low and muffled in her heat. “You know how sweet this pussy is, baby? Been dreamin’ about this taste.”

He sucked her clit between his lips, slow and deep.

Cherise cried out, her hips bucking, her fingers flying down to twist in his hair.

Her thighs were trembling now, soft brown skin quivering as pleasure coiled low and hot in her belly.

Jey kept going, flattening his tongue and dragging it up from her dripping entrance to her clit again and again until her whole body was trembling.

Then two thick, long fingers slid inside her at once, curling just right against her walls, stroking her open.

Her back arched off the bed.

“J-Jey!”

“That’s it, mama,” he whispered, his breath hot against her core. “Lemme hear you.”

He fucked her slow with his fingers, his tongue working in tandem. The rhythm deliberate, intoxicating, like he was building her up slow just to watch her fall apart.

Her breath stuttered, chest heaving, her nipples tight and peaked, her curls sticking to her temples.

She was soaked.

The obscene sound of his fingers pumping into her echoed in the room, mixing with her breathy moans, and it made his cock throb in his sweats.

“Oh my God,” she whimpered, her thighs squeezing around his head.

“You close, baby?” he murmured, his lips gliding over her clit. “You gon’ cum for me?”

She nodded helplessly.

But again, he made her say it.

“Tell me.”

“I’m—I’m gonna—” her voice broke into a moan as his tongue circled her clit again. “I’m gonna cum—please don’t stop—”

That was all he needed.

He sucked her clit harder, thrust his fingers deeper and her whole body snapped.

Her back arched, thighs trembling, mouth falling open in a silent cry as the orgasm crashed over her in hot, pulsing waves.

“Fuckfuckfuck—J-Jey, oh my God—”

Her body convulsed around his fingers, soaking his hand, the wet sounds of her release enough to make his eyes roll back in his head.

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, licking her through it, slow and greedy. “That’s it, baby. Lemme taste all of it.”

He didn’t stop until she was squirming, gasping, her body too sensitive to handle the way he worshipped her.

He pressed one last kiss to her clit before pulling back, his mouth and beard shining with her slick.

She blinked up at him, breathless and fucked-out, chest heaving.

Jey smirked, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Still think I came back for the pussy?” he rasped.

Cherise could barely speak.

She blinked at him, her chest heaving, curls wild, sweat beading down the curve of her temple. Her skin glowed warm and flushed, her legs still trembling from the orgasm he pulled from her with nothing but that sinful mouth.

And her heart?

Thudding wild in her chest.

He leaned over her slowly, his body caging hers in, and brushed her cheek with the back of his hand.

Her lashes fluttered.

“You good, baby girl?”

She nodded, dazed.

“You sure?”

“Don’t be smug,” she whispered, cheeks flushed.

He grinned.

“I ain’t smug, mama,” he murmured, voice dipping low as he kissed the corner of her mouth, soft and delicate. “I’m in awe.”

Her breath caught.

Because he wasn’t teasing. His voice was thick with sincerity, his eyes warm, lips brushing hers like she was made of glass.

His hands stayed on her the whole time palming her hips, tracing the curve of her ass, gripping her thighs possessively like he couldn’t believe she was real.

She reached for him, hooked her fingers in the waistband of his sweats and whispered, “Take ‘em off,” earning a groan low in his throat.

“Damn, baby. You bossy..”

She smiled, pulling them down slowly, revealing his thick length. Brown, heavy, veined and already leaking at the tip.

“Jey…”

“Yeah?” he rasped, watching her hand wrap around him.

Her thumb slid over the head, collecting the precum, and his breath caught.

“You gon’ let me have a taste?”

He bit his lip. “Eventually.”

“Eventually?” She raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, baby.” He pulled her hand away gently, flipping her onto her back. “But I gotta be inside you first.”

He lowered himself again, his chest pressed to hers, and slid his hand between her thighs.

Fingers brushed her soaked folds, then guided himself to her entrance.

“You ready, baby?”

She nodded, trembling.

Jey’s mouth brushed her ear.

“Use them words, baby girl.”

“I’m ready,” she breathed.

Jey filled her slow and deep.

The thick head of his dick stretched her open inch by inch, his hips pressing forward with a groan that shook her bones. “Mmmf—fuck, baby girl…”

Cherise’s mouth fell open, her back arching as her fingers scrambled for purchase on his shoulders.

Every nerve in her body lit up.

She’d taken him before but not like this.

Not with this heat in the air. Not with all that tension and desperation simmering beneath the surface. Not after crying in his arms, after spilling her deepest wounds, only for him to look her dead in the eye like she was the most precious thing he ever touched.

And now he was inside her.

Thick. Heavy. Warm.

“Fffffuuuuuck,” she gasped, fingers clawing at his inked back.

Jey chuckled low and dark, his forehead pressed to hers. He pulled back just enough to slam back in, the force making her tits bounce, a sharp moan ripping from her throat.

“Shhh, I got you, baby,” he whispered against her neck, voice low and breathless. “Relax f’me. Just like that. You takin’ me so good.”

He pushed deeper, his hips rolling forward until he was seated all the way in, his heavy length stretching her in that perfect, dizzying way.

Cherise whimpered.

His grip tightened on her hips, holding her in place while he set a rhythm. Every stroke dragged along her walls, thick and slow, the head of his dick tapping her g-spot just right, again and again.

Her thighs clenched around his waist, trying to ground herself. “Oh my god…”

“Yeah,” Jey groaned, holding still for a moment, his forehead pressed to hers. “Feel that, mama? That’s me in this sweet lil’ pussy.”

She whimpered, trying to respond but he caught her mouth in a hot, sloppy kiss, stealing whatever comeback she had on the tip of her tongue.

Tongues colliding and teeth lightly scraping against each other.

She sucked on his bottom lip, then moaned into his mouth as he drove into her again, this time harder, the sound of skin slapping filling the room.

Jey’s chain swung lightly across her chest, catching on her nipple, cold metal teasing her sensitive skin with every pump.

“You hear that?” he panted, cock grinding deep. “That’s you, baby. That’s how fuckin’ wet you are for me.”

Cherise’s legs wrapped around his waist instinctively, trying to pull him deeper, tighter. The stretch was so good, so nasty she could feel the pressure building again, that tight knot coiling low in her belly.

“I missed you,” she moaned, nails dragging down his back.

“I know you did,” Jey rasped, biting her throat. “You act tough, but this pussy been missin’ me.”

His teeth grazed the sweet spot under her jaw, and he sucked hard. A deep, dark bruise bloomed against her neck, and Cherise loved it.

She moaned louder, her hips rolling to meet his strokes, her curls sticking to her face as she lost herself in the rhythm.

“You like that, huh?” he growled, sucking another hickey into her chest. “Like when I mark you up?”

She nodded furiously, breath catching.

“Mmm, fuck, baby…” His lips found her collarbone, dragging hot kisses across it. “Look at you. All that sass and you still foldin’ on me.”

Her hand slapped weakly at his chest. “Shut up…”

He chuckled against her skin. “Say you love it.”

Cherise whimpered, her head buried in his shoulder.

“Say it, baby girl,” he murmured, nipping at her jaw. “Say you love when I fuck you like this.”

She cried out when he rolled his hips hard, hitting that spot inside her that made her legs shake.

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes, fuck—I-I love it, Jey, I—oooh my god…”

“That’s my girl.” He bit down gently on her throat, leaving a warm, stinging mark behind. “This pussy mine now, huh?”

“Y-yeah..fuck..yes!”

“Yeah it’s mine?”

“It’s yours,” she moaned, back arching, nails digging into his biceps. “God, Jey—fuck!”

He grinned, satisfied.

The sound of skin meeting skin echoed soft and rhythmic through the apartment—his hips grinding into hers in long, deep strokes, dragging moans from her throat she didn’t even know she could make.

Jey kissed her everywhere.

The slope of her nose.

Her cheeks.

Her shoulder.

Her breasts.

He sucked a nipple into his mouth and groaned, tongue circling it slow before giving it a gentle bite.

“You so fuckin’ beautiful, baby,” he muttered between kisses. “Don’t ever let nobody tell you different.”

Cherise whimpered, hands threading through his curls.

“I mean that shit,” he said, his eyes locked on hers. “You hear me?”

She nodded, dazed.

But that wasn’t enough.

“Say it.”

She swallowed hard. “I hear you.”

“Say you believe it.”

“I…” Her throat tightened. “I’m trying.”

He kissed her. Deep. Long.

His tongue slid slow into her mouth, curling against hers as he poured everything he couldn’t say into that kiss. His care, his hunger, his love even if he hadn’t said the word yet.

And when he pulled back?

Her eyes were wet again.

But not from pain.

“I got you, baby girl,” he whispered against her lips. “You ain’t gotta try alone no more. You got me.”

Her heart cracked open.

And this time, when she pulled him back down, the kiss was different.

Desperate. Needy.

Full of emotion neither of them could hide anymore.

He pulled out slow—too slow—and before she could whine, he flipped her effortlessly onto her stomach.

Cherise gasped, bracing herself on her elbows as he dragged her hips up into the air.

“Arch that back for me,” he grunted, slapping her ass hard.

Smack.

She cried out, eyes fluttering.

“That’s it baby, arch it,” he instructed, gripping the back of her neck, forcing her head down while her ass stayed high.

“There you go.”

He slid the tip of his dick through her slick folds, teasing her, tapping against her clit before lining back up. He slid back into her with ease, the new angle hitting different. She screamed silently into the pillow, her fists balling up the sheets as he fucked into her.

Cherise was a mess.

Face down, ass up, hair wild, drool smudging the pillow.

The squelch of wetness and slapping skin was nasty. So nasty she should’ve been embarrassed. But the way he was fucking her? She couldn’t be embarrassed.

He grabbed a handful of her ass and spread her open, watching himself disappear inside her over and over, his dick shiny and soaked in her arousal with a creamy ring around the base.

“Daaamn,” he groaned. “You see this shit, baby?”

She whimpered into the pillow.

Jey chuckled darkly, dragging her hips back into each thrust, deeper, making her thighs quake.

“You ain’t tappin’ out yet, are you?”

“Nuh uh,” she gasped. “Don’t stop. Please..don’t fuckin’ stop.”

He grinned. “That’s my girl.”

He pulled out and flipped her again, this time onto her side. One leg thrown over his shoulder, his hips angled deep, his arm was slung under her neck, holding her close, his other hand working slow, tight circles over her slick, swollen clit. He slid back into her slow, thick and heavy, her walls clenching around him like they missed him even after only seconds apart.

Cherise was a fucking mess.

Breathless, squirming, moaning, her pretty brown skin slick with sweat, her curls a halo of chaos around her flushed face as her hand clutched his forearm, nails biting into his inked skin as she buried her face in the pillow, lips swollen, thighs trembling.

“Ohh my God, Jey…”

He groaned into her neck, biting down gently, kissing the red mark after. “You feel me, baby?”

“Mhm…uh-huh…” she whimpered, voice all breath and heat. “So f-fuckin’ deep…”

Jey dragged his tongue up the column of her throat, fingers never stopping their rhythm, his hips grinding slow, deep strokes that made her cry out with every roll.

"Yeah…that’s it, mama," he murmured, voice low, thick with hunger. "Keep sayin’ it. Let me hear how good this shit feel.”

“I—It feels s-so good,” Cherise whimpered, throwing her head back against the pillow. “Fuck, Jey…”

“You gon’ cum again for me, baby girl?” he rasped, his teeth brushing her earlobe. “You close?”

She nodded desperately, her thighs shaking, her pussy clenching around him, already so sensitive from the last few orgasms he pulled from her.

Jey couldn’t breathe.

Not with Cherise beneath him like this.

Flushed, needy, soft, her thigh wrapped around his waist, her fingers locked tight around his wrist like she was holding on for dear life.

His girl.

His everything.

She was soaking for him. Warm and slick, her pussy pulsing around his dick, her body trembling with every slow roll of his hips. Every deep, steady stroke had her gasping, whining, whimpering like he was inside her soul.

And he gave it to her.

All of him.

Every inch. Every kiss. Every breath.

His forehead pressed to hers, hips grinding deep, their bodies slick with sweat and heat.

She reached up, brushing the curls from his face, her fingers trailing over the scruff lining his jaw.

And then…she said it.

“I love you, Jey.”

Jey froze.

The words didn’t just hit, they detonated.

And she meant it.

He saw it in her eyes.

Big and brown, glistening with tears and bliss, her lips swollen, trembling, her voice wrecked. But there was no fear there. No hesitation. Just her, raw and open beneath him, handing over her heart like she already knew he’d never break it.

His hands flexed on her thighs. His throat worked around the lump suddenly forming there.

“What you just say, baby?” His voice was low and fragile.

Cherise blinked up at him, chest heaving, her voice shaky but solid.

“I love you, Jey,” she whispered again. “I love you.”

Jey’s whole chest caved.

And the he kissed her. Hard. Slow and deep, tongue tangled with hers, his fingers tangled in her curls as his heart practically embedded itself into hers.

"You love me, huh?" he rasped, forehead resting against hers.

She nodded, brushing her nose against his, breath catching.

“Say it again.”

He rolled his hips into her, slow, filthy, every stroke dragging over that sweet spot that made her legs shake.

“I love you,” she moaned, her nails digging into his back.

Jey groaned, lips brushing hers, his heart slamming behind his ribs. “Mmm, yeah, you do.”

He kissed her again.

But this time his hands moved.

Slid up her arms, smooth and commanding, until he caught both wrists and pinned them above her head.

“Say it one more time, mama,” he growled. “Let me hear that shit while I’m deep in this pussy.”

“F-fuck—” she gasped as his hips snapped forward again. “I—I love you, Jey!”

Jey lost it.

“That’s my fuckin’ girl,” he groaned, driving into her harder, deeper, the bed creaking beneath them like it couldn’t take much more.

He wasn’t rough. Not in the slightest. He worshipped her.

He touched her like she was holy, kissed her like he was praying, and fucked her like she was the only woman in the universe.

His hands explored every inch of her skin—dark, warm, golden brown under the soft lamp light, kissed with stretch marks and curves that ruined him. His mouth found the swell of her breasts, dragging his tongue over her nipple before sucking slow, deep, making her arch with a ragged cry.

“J-Jey…” She whined.

He switched sides, licking up a bead of sweat trailing down her cleavage before dragging his tongue over her other nipple, sucking until it was swollen, shiny, his hand kneading the other with slow, greedy palms.

“You feel that, baby?” he whispered, mouth dragging to her neck, where he licked and kissed his way up to the soft spot beneath her ear. He found her hands again, laced their fingers together and held them above her head, pressing them back into the pillows.

“Y-yeah,” she sobbed, breathless.

“Mmm, nah, say it real sweet for me. Tell Daddy what you feelin’.”

“I—I feel you, Jey,” she choked. “I feel you everywhere.”

“Yeah, you do,” he growled. “All in this lil’ pussy, stretchin’ you out, takin’ you so deep. You love that shit, huh?”

“Uh-huh,” she gasped.

“Uh-huh?” he teased, kissing down her jaw, his fingers still tangled with hers, their hands crushed into the pillows above her head.

“Y-yeah,” she whimpered.

His lips brushed behind her ear, breath hot and filthy. “Yeah?”

“Yes, Daddy,” she breathed, voice shaking. Jey groaned, voice low and cracked, eyes wild with lust.

“You so fuckin’ good to me, baby girl,” he whispered, moving their locked hands so he could kiss the inside of her wrist. “So sweet. So perfect. Love this lil’ body. Love this lil’ pussy. I fuckin’ love you, baby.”

Cherise broke.

She shattered in his arms.

Her mouth dropped open in a breathless cry, her thighs shaking violently as her orgasm rolled through her in thick, blinding waves. Her walls clamped down around his dick, milking him, sucking him in deeper, and Jey almost blacked out from how tight she got.

“Fuck,” He cursed low and thick, trying to hold on, trying to breathe through the way her pussy was gripping his dick.

But there was no holding back. Not when she looked at him like that. Not when she told him she loved him.

His pace stuttered, his grip tightening,,“F-fuck, baby,” he groaned, his body jerking as he spilled hot ropes spilled her, deep, thick, and heavy.

Cherise held him tight, arms sliding around his back, pulling him close while he buried his face in her neck, whispering her name like a prayer.

And when it was over, when the aftershocks of their orgasms began to fade and his breath evened out, they stayed tangled up in each other. Jey brushed his thumb down her thigh, then traced slow circles over her wrist where he still held her hand.

His other hand slid across her belly, feeling the faint twitch of aftershocks still rippling through her.

Jey didn’t move right away.

He stayed wrapped around her, holding her like she might float away if he let go, their bodies tangled in damp sheets, hearts still hammering slow and heavy against each other’s chests.

Cherise blinked up at the ceiling, still dazed, her body thrumming from the aftershocks of everything they just did. Her skin was sticky with sweat and slick, her thighs trembling from how hard she’d come. She should’ve felt wrecked. But instead? she just felt…whole.

Jey pressed a lazy, open-mouthed kiss against the curve of her neck, his beard tickling her cheek. Cherise’s eyes fell on him, a slow, tired smile pulling at her lips.

"Hey," she whispered, her voice soft and sweet all at once.

Jey grinned, lazy and lopsided, dimples deep. "Hey, pretty girl."

For a moment, neither of them moved, just…looking.

Taking it in.

Breathing it in.

Then Jey chuckled low in his throat and pressed a kiss to her temple. "C'mon, mama. Let’s get you cleaned up. I done wore you out."

Cherise smiled faintly, the corners of her mouth tugging up. “Mmhmm.”

Jey kissed her forehead, then slowly, carefully, rolled off her, leaving a trail of kisses down her arm. She whimpered quietly at the loss of his warmth, but when she peeked at him through her lashes, he was already standing beside the bed, tugging his boxers back on and stretching his arms above his head, muscles flexing deliciously in the soft light.

Cherise whined softly but let him pull her up into a sitting position.

Her whole body ached in that delicious, used way. Her thighs sore, her core throbbing, her neck and breasts marked with love bites she already knew she was gonna have to cover up for clinicals.

Worth it.

Jey bent down, sliding his arms under her body, lifting her like she weighed nothing. Cherise yelped, smacking his chest lightly. “Boy! I can walk!” Jey just smirked, his gold chain glinting against his chest. “I’on wanna hear that shit. You my girl. I’m carryin’ you.”

Cherise melted.

No point arguing when he said it like that.

She tucked her face into his neck, breathing in the mix of his sweat, his cologne, and something distinctly him. It wrapped around her like a safety blanket.

Jey carried her down the short hall to the bathroom, nudging the door open with his foot.

He set her down gently on the edge of the tub, giving her a quick peck on the lips before crouching down to run the water.

The faucet squeaked a little as he twisted the knobs, steam quickly filling the room. He fiddled with the temperature, letting it get nice and warm but not too hot, just the way she liked it.

“You want bubbles, mama?” he teased, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

Cherise gave him a sleepy, sassy look. “I always want bubbles.”

He chuckled and grabbed the fancy vanilla and honey-scented bubble bath she kept on the counter next to her body scrubs. Poured a generous amount under the running water until the tub filled with thick, fluffy foam. He also dropped in one of her bath bombs, the glittery pink one she never used unless she really needed a self care day.

She watched him in silence, something soft and full tugging at her heart as he moved. Shirtless, sweat still glistening on his brown skin, tattoos flexing over muscle and bone. But it was the care in his movements that did it. The way he tested the water again, adjusted it for her. The way he reached for her towel, fluffed it, and set it near the edge of the tub like he’d always belonged here.

While it filled, Cherise grabbed her phone from the counter and flipped on a playlist. Snoh Aalegra’s voice filled the room, sultry and smooth, fitting the intimacy that bloomed between the two.

Jey turned back to her, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face, his thumb lingering along her jawline.

“Get in, pretty girl,” he said, voice all soft gravel.

Cherise smiled shyly and climbed into the tub, sinking into the warm water with a content sigh. It lapped up her shoulders, bubbles clinging to her brown skin, and instantly started easing the aches deep in her muscles.

Jey watched her, eyes hungry and tender all at once, like he couldn’t believe she was real.

“Damn, you look good even sittin’ in bubbles,” he muttered, stripping off his boxers and stepping in behind her.

Cherise giggled, wiggling back against his chest once he settled, his legs bracketing her hips, his arms wrapping around her middle.

She leaned her head back against his shoulder, utterly boneless.

They soaked in silence for a few minutes, the water sloshing gently as Jey shifted to press slow, lazy kisses to her damp shoulder, her temple, her cheek.

Then Jey reached for a loofah, soaping it up with slow, deliberate hands. "Let me take care of you, baby," he murmured.

He washed her slowly, starting with her back, dragging the warm cloth in slow circles over her soft skin, pausing to kiss the nape of her neck every now and then. Then her arms, lifting them gently, his big hands squeezing and massaging as he cleaned.

When he got to her chest, he hesitated.

"You trust me?" he murmured low against her ear.

Cherise nodded, breath hitching.

"Good," he said, so soft it made her eyes sting. "Gon’ take my time with you, baby."

He cupped her breasts reverently, sliding the cloth over her nipples, washing them slow and tender, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her collarbone between strokes.

Cherise whimpered, her body arching into his hands.

"Relax, baby,” he whispered, kissing her shoulder. "Just takin’ care of what’s mine."

She melted into him, letting him soap every inch of her—down her thighs, over her knees, between her toes, laughing when he tickled her and groaning when he got too close to her pussy without meaning to.

"Mm-mm," she said, catching his wrist. "We tryin’ to get clean, she’s closed for business.”

Jey chuckled low, licking at the shell of her ear. "You sure, baby? ‘Cause one lil’ moan and I’ma forget what mission we on."

She laughed, leaning back against him fully, feeling his heart beat steady against her back.

“She is closed for business, Joshua," she teased.

He pressed another kiss to her shoulder. "Whatever you say, pretty girl."

He ran his hands over her arms, slow and soothing, tracing the curves he already knew by heart.

“You so beautiful, baby,” he whispered against her skin. “I swear to God.”

Cherise blushed, biting her lip.

Her hand reached up to rest over his, their fingers intertwining lazily beneath the bubbles.

They sat like that, breathing each other in, for what felt like forever.

The music changed ushering in Jodeci. Jey chuckled low in her ear, his chest rumbling against her back. “Ayy, this my shit.”

Cherise laughed softly. “You so old, Jey.”

“Nah, you just a baby, mama. I’m cultured.”

She snorted. “Cultured, my ass.”

He squeezed her gently around the waist, his teeth grazing her shoulder playfully. “Watch your mouth, lil' girl.”

Cherise giggled, wriggling against him, sending ripples across the bath.

“Mmm, you so wild,” he murmured, smiling into her skin. “I love it.”

Her heart skipped.

Even now, even post-orgasm, post-vulnerability, post-everything…he said it so easy.

I love it.

Like loving her was easy and natural.

She turned slightly, enough to see his face, wet hair clinging to his forehead, bubbles sticking to the tribal tattoos on his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what, baby girl?”

“For…caring. For not running. For still being here. Even when I gave you every reason to.”

Jey’s eyes softened, his hand coming up to cradle her jaw gently, thumb brushing across her cheek.

He kissed the curve of her shoulder. “You ain’t never gotta thank me for that.”

Her voice dipped softer. “I was scared you wouldn’t wanna deal with all of it.”

“Baby girl,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “Ain’t nothin’ you could tell me that would make me walk away. That ain’t how I’m built. Especially not when it’s you.”

Cherise turned slightly in his arms, enough to meet his eyes.

He reached up and brushed her damp curls off her cheek, then tucked a finger under her chin.

“You mine,” he said quietly. “And I don’t mean that in no possessive, weird-ass way. I mean…I choose you. Every version. The soft one, the stubborn one, the hurt one, the healing one. All of you.”

Her chest squeezed.

God, she was so stupid for pushing him away.

Cherise shifted, turning fully in his lap now, straddling his hips in the warm water, bubbles sliding between them.

Jey blinked up at her, his hands instinctively settling on her hips.

“Damn, mama…” he murmured, low and admiring, his gaze sweeping over her. “You tryna start somethin’ now?”

Cherise smiled, shy but sure.

“Nah,” she whispered, brushing her nose against his. “Just…wanna be close to you that’s all.”

Jey groaned softly, pressing his forehead to hers.

“You already are, baby girl. I’m right here.” He tapped her chest, over her heart. “Right here.”

Cherise kissed him.

Soft and slow. Not rushed or desperate. Just themselves.

Jey kissed her back like he had all the time in the world with his hands stroking up and down her back, keeping her close, making her feel wanted, loved, safe.

The bath water sloshed gently around them, bubbles clinging to their bodies, the music playing low in the background.

♡

The bath lingered longer than it should’ve. Neither of them wanted to move. But eventually, the water cooled, and Jey stood first, pulling her up with him and wrapping her in the big white towel he’d grabbed earlier. His hands lingering as he dried her off slowly, like he didn’t want to let go.

He dried himself next, putting on a fresh pair of boxers as Cherise helped him apply some of her unscented body oil on his body. He glanced around at the chaos in the bedroom from the hall—disarayed pillows, wrinkled and damp sheets, the twisted comforter hanging halfway off the bed. “Go sit down, baby. I got the sheets.”

“You sure?” she asked, holding the towel to her chest.

Jey nodded, grabbing her comforter with one hand and pulling the fitted sheet off with the other. “You think I’mma let you lay on sweaty ass sheets after I done wore you out?”

Cherise snorted, watching him tug the corners tight and smooth the fabric out like he’d done it a hundred times before.

“Okay, Mr. Domestic,” she teased, walking past him to grab her body butter from the dresser.

He looked over his shoulder at her, grinning. “Ain’t no way I'm lettin’ my girl sleep in no nasty ass bed. You deserve better than that, mama.”

She doesn’t know how many times she has swooned over something he has said to her already but she guesses this is her 80th time.

Once the sheets were fresh and the pillows were fluffed, Jey patted the mattress.

“Lay down, pretty girl.”

She raised a brow. “For what?”

He took the jar of her body butter from her hands. “’Cause I ain’t done pampering you yet.”

She smiled shyly but obeyed, lying on her stomach on the fresh sheets he’d thrown over the bed.

Jey straddled her thighs, his hands warm and firm as he opened her favorite body butter—the mango-shea one she obsessed over—and scooped out a generous handful.

"You smell so damn good,” he muttered, smoothing it over her back.

Cherise giggled, sighing as his strong hands started kneading into her shoulders.

He found knots she didn’t even know she had, thumbs digging deep into the tension beneath her skin, coaxing it out slow and patient.

“You tense, baby,” he murmured, his thumbs digging into the tight knots along her shoulders.

“Been a rough few weeks,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“I know.” His voice softened. “We gon’ fix that.”

He rubbed slow, deep circles into her shoulders until she was practically purring beneath his hands.

"Mmm, damn, baby," she moaned into the pillow. ��I could fall asleep just like this.”

He chuckled, low and pleased. "Jus' tryna make sure you ain’t wakin’ up stiff tomorrow."

He worked his way down—back, the dip of her spine, the swell of her ass—kneading and rubbing and kissing every spot that made her whimper.

"You spoilin’ me," she mumbled sleepily.

"I’m supposed to, baby girl," he murmured, kissing between her shoulder blades. “It’s what you deserve.”

Then, gentle as ever, he flipped her onto her back and started on her front. Collarbones, breasts, arms, even her belly, rubbing the butter into every soft, beautiful inch of her.

When he finally finished, Cherise was boneless and glowing, her skin glistening in the low light, the scent of vanilla and sugar wrapping around her like a blanket.

He wiped his hands clean and pulled her up gently, helping her into one of her bed shirts and a fresh pair of cotton panties.

Then he tugged on his grey sweats and slid into bed beside her, pulling her back against his chest like she was the softest, most precious thing he’d ever touched.

They lay like that for a while, limbs tangled, skin still warm and glowing.

Then Jey mumbled into her curls, “You think I ain’t notice you wearin’ my hoodie earlier, girl?”

Cherise froze, then turned her head slowly. “…What hoodie?”

He bit back a grin. “The one you definitely snatched from me after that first night. I saw it behind your back when I was leaving.”

She groaned, hiding her face in the pillow. “I knew it.”

Jey kissed the back of her head, smirking. “It was cute. Had me feelin’ like I had a girlfriend.”

“Do you?”

“Damn right I do.”

Cherise could feel her cheeks flush against her pillow, she couldn’t even compute a smart remark to say back in her head so she just remained silent but snuggled closer to him.

"Baby girl?"

"Hmm?"

"You free Friday?"

Cherise tilted her head back to look at him. "Why?"

He smiled, slow and sweet. "I’m takin’ you out."

Cherise blinked up at him, heart skipping a few beats. “You serious?”

"I’m serious, Cher," he said, his voice turning a little more earnest. "I wanna do this right wit’ you. You get dressed up, I’ll pull up in a suit lookin’ fly as hell, and I’mma spoil you like you deserve.”

Her heart twisted in the best way.

"You sure you ready for all this?" she teased, lifting a brow. "I’m kinda of a lot." Jey grinned. "I’m ready for all that and then some," He kissed her slow, sweet. "You ain't never gotta doubt it again, pretty girl."

Cherise buried her face in his chest, hiding her stupid, wide-ass smile. "I’d like that," she mumbled. Jey chuckled, squeezing her tighter. "Mmmhmm. Knew you would."

They laid there tangled up, drifting off to sleep the city lights blinking softly outside her window, their future wide open before them.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

Cherise believed it.

Maybe she could have something good.

Maybe she already did and just didn’t know at first.

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[starsforxavi]

Heart of a Diamond ⁘ Xavier (Ch. 1)

······•✦ description: Dearest gentle reader, the time has come for us to place our bets on the upcoming social season, where news has spread throughout Linkon that the rarest jewel, Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Linkon, has announced her hand for marriage.

While many men of all nobilities have certainly placed themselves into the race, will she settle or perhaps shoot for the stars? For a diamond like her, she needs a Prince who will provide only the best, unlike some who have declared themselves suitors…

...

Though, not all is hopeless and lost. In fact, there has been word of two very eligible and highly sought-after bachelors who are likely to ask for her hand. They are friends, nonetheless! Though hailing from starkly different kingdoms, these two princes have certainly made their own mark on the Ton and amongst mamas alike.

·······•✦ pairing: prince xavier x princess reader ·······•✦ word count: 19.2k ·······•✦ genre: fluff, build-up, strangers to lovers, regency au ·······•✦ general tags: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Regency, Prince Xavier, courting, Fluff, Slow Burn, Light Angst, Slow Build, Romance, Ballroom Dancing, Marriage Proposal, Choosing Between Two, Prince Sylus, Lady in waiting Tara, Right hand man Jeremiah, Xavier is Prince of Philos, Carriage Rides, Fencing, a lot of yearning, and thinking about the right decision, To Be Continued, Awkward Conversations, Awkward Tension, Rumors, Scandal, Masquerade Ball, Princess MC, POV Second Person, No use of y/n, Xavier is closed off and MC hates it

·······•✦ posted on: ao3

chapter one (chapter two coming soon)

However, one has heard of a most scandalous tale involving a certain Prince of Philos. Certain mamas have heard word that he was once betrothed to another, a fine young lady of good character, and yet now he is vying for the Ton’s precious jewel. This author wonders what circumstances led to the young prince breaking that poor girl’s heart and the scandal that must have occurred. Will the young prince run this time, or will this young upstart finally snatch this rare jewel?

The newspaper is spread amongst the people of the courtyard, their mouths hanging open at the news of their Princess’s announcement to attend the recent season in search of suitors. It is silly to assume that the Princess of Linkon, recently named the diamond of the season, no less, wouldn’t have the majority of the men at her beck and call. 

In the main square of Linkon, you sit on a bench with Tara. She has always been your favorite lady in waiting, knowing exactly what to say and even teaching you some of her own clever slang she’s learned. Royal Guards stand behind you, making sure that nothing is to come of their precious Princess and soon-to-be Queen. 

“She is speaking as if you are some object to capture!” Tara giggles, her eyes skimming the article. It’s all about you, the announcement of your search for a perfect suitor. There’s a bit of trepidation in your mind, the weight of the kingdom on your shoulders, to pick the right man to support you as Prince Consort. “At least she wishes you luck in your pursuit, though I do not wish for you to turn to dust.” 

Her humor always amazes you, and a chuckle comes from your parted lips. She brings an air of comfort as she is perched beside you. Despite the many eyes directed your way, you keep your wits about you, knowing that one wrong move can mean a scandal, and who knows where the author of that article is. At times, it was overwhelming, but having people around who were always attentive and willing to help made all the difference. 

“I am sure if he breaks my heart, there will be many people coming for his head,” you try to joke back, feeling Tara’s hand on your satin-covered bicep. There is a slight chill to the air, but your gloves, as well as the intricate long-sleeved dress you picked out for the day, cover you enough. “You, my parents, and the whole of the kingdom just will not stand for it.” 

It was true. You have garnered the affection of the entire kingdom from the day you were born. They all sit in waiting for the day you become their Queen. The day you marry… That will be the day your parents will bestow the crown to you. Now, all you had to do was pick your husband. 

“My parents have always liked him.” You shrug, remembering the talks they’ve had with you about the upcoming season. They reminded you that you could choose whomever you liked, but that they absolutely adored Prince Xavier of Philos. He always seemed so put together in royal meetings between kingdoms, but you had never gotten the chance to speak to him. “Though I wonder if this new scandal will change their hearts.” 

“Surely not, My Lady.” Tara shakes her head, her eyes finding a few men staring at you. They look to be not of nobility, but the darkness in their gazes has her pulling you up and guiding you back to your carriage. “The King and Queen are not easily swayed by some article…” She pauses as she helps you up into the carriage, climbing in and sitting beside you. “However, I do think there is some truth to her words.” 

Her statement weighs heavy on you as you watch the scenery change from brick and stone buildings to the fresh green land that leads to the palace—a palace that will soon be entirely yours, though your parents will still reside in it. Knowing that soon you will be sharing the royal bedroom with your husband was half exciting and half nerve-wracking. 

“She is rarely wrong.” Your fingers play with the silk front of your dress adorned by gold accents. Recently, your parents have insisted on you wearing more intricate dresses with darker colors, and you can’t deny that it does make you stand out even more than before. 

This author has always been able to gather the best gossip among the nobles, making sure such scandals are aired out to each and every kingdom. How she got everything, you did not know, but the fact that it was scarily accurate every time meant she was good at what she did. “I do not doubt her details.” 

“There is even dirt on the Prince of Tarus!” Tara leans in, her eyes shining bright. Both of these Princes are asking for your hand… Just the thought makes your heart race. “If both of these men will be asking for your hand, it will be a big decision.” There’s a twinkle in her irises as her smile widens. “I will gladly take the one you do not want, My Lady.” 

Your laugh stretches out amongst the green grass, through the herds of animals that graze there between tiny plots of forest. It’s a beautiful scene and one that you can see the entirety of from your balcony. At night, you can even catch the streetlights and lamps of the kingdom stretching out before you, reminding you of the people who look to you and your family in times of need. 

“You are free to attempt the hand of whomever I do not choose. They would be lucky to have you. Though I will definitely miss you as my lady in waiting.” There is jest in your words. “If you were to become Queen, we could have daily lunches together. Should I even choose one of them…” The last sentence is more of a whisper, but Tara hears it all the same. 

With a dramatic sigh, she cups your elbow. “Upon seeing the lineup of suitors so far, I am afraid that you might have to choose one of them, lest waste your first year on the market – as the diamond of the season, no less – waiting for a better option.” She is right. After being named diamond of the season by all the other kingdoms, the pressure began to mount merely hours after you announced your hand. Who knew if you would garner that same attention if you waited another year? 

“I have to admit, I am quite excited to meet them.” Prince Xavier, in particular, caught your interest. The quick glances you caught of him during hectic royal meetings told you he was incredibly handsome, with soft silver hair and bright blue eyes that seemed to see through everything. He is everything your parents want for you, though they haven’t really seen the man smile, nor have you. Granted, you’ve only ever seen him in high-stress situations or large groups of people, so perhaps he is different behind closed doors. “I hope the Prince of Philos is not too emotionless. You know I wish to marry for love above all, and I worry that he will not feel the same.” 

Though there are rumors circling about him asking for your hand, nothing is set in stone. You wouldn’t know for sure until the morning when there would be a gathering of suitors at the palace so you could mingle and meet with the men who would be vying for your hand. A part of you hopes that the Prince of Philos will be there, but a seed of worry sprouts in your stomach at the thought. 

“You seem smitten with him already.” Tara jokes, leading you out of the carriage in front of your palace. “And if he does not seem to reciprocate your affections, then I can always knock some sense into him.” Tara knows that she can’t just hit royalty, no matter how lax you and your parent's rules are for your ladies-in-waiting, but the statement pulls a genuine laugh from you. The smell of dinner wafts toward you, and Tara rests a hand on your waist, guiding you in the direction of the dining hall. 

“This is why you are my favorite, Tara.” You laugh, your eyes closing slightly as you hear your parents greeting you from their seats at the front of the room. “Come and eat, we can discuss more about these men.” 

“With pleasure, My Lady.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The morning comes a long while after you retire to your bedroom. All throughout the night, you toss and turn with worry. Although the article stated that both of the highly sought-after princes would be there to ask for your hand, there is a real possibility of you walking out there and seeing all the duds. 

Sleep doesn’t happen quickly, and by the time the sun is rising and Tara is knocking on your door with breakfast and your attire for the gathering, it feels as though you haven’t gotten any sleep at all. A large yawn stretches your jaw as she walks in, setting a tray of breakfast in front of you while holding up your gown. 

It’s exquisite , you think as you take a bite of toast. Deep green satin is the base color, with gold droplets falling from the short sleeves and bottom. It flares out beneath the waist to give you volume, and with each step, you can imagine the droplets reflecting the light and leaving you shining. The bodice looks like it will hug you just enough to keep you together but not enough to cut off your airflow. 

“Wow,” you nod, finishing up your breakfast quickly. “It looks stunning. Where did my mother and father manage to find this from?” “A neighboring kingdom gifted this for your first gathering of the season, My Lady,” Tara explains as she helps you into the dress. Her hands make quick work, knowing exactly how tight you like everything after years of being by your side. “It is exquisite, and you will surely catch the attention of the two special princes.” 

“Are they here?” You can’t help but ask, face heating up at the thought.

“Oh yes, they are.” A giggle comes from the lady behind you, her fingers brushing your temples as she sets your tiara on your head. It’s one you’ve worn since you were a teenager. With winding golden streaks that are dotted by small stars, it fits with Linkon’s love for space and science in general. Your kingdom has made amazing advancements thanks to the support of your parents, and in return, you are given beautiful clothes with said stars and planets adorning them. 

Once she is finished, she turns you around to look at her. There is a spark in her eyes, fingers squeezing your shoulders as she leans forward. “They look dashing, and the Prince of Philos, in particular, has already asked for you.” 

Butterflies erupt in your stomach, head turning down toward the floor as you fight the smile on your lips. “He has?” The question comes out as more of a whisper. 

She hums in confirmation, cheeks nearly splitting from the wide smile. “Though the prince is a bit monotone in his expressions, he seems genuinely interested in getting to know you.” Her excitement transfers to you, the corners of your lips curling just enough to give away the happiness in your expression.

With a gentle push, you’re led out to the front yard. Your parents are already there, and you can see many people – men, women, and children – standing under umbrellas with drinks and snacks in their hands. Young women blush as their hands are held by prospective husbands, and parents watch with a smile as their children are courted.

As soon as you step out, you’re met with so many bows that your back can barely keep up. They all have their eyes on you, giving small greetings while you make your way to your parents. Men stop and stare, their eyes dark and hungry while also trying to remain respectful. It’s as if you are truly a prize to be won, and there is a sense of discomfort as your fingers fiddle with one of the golden droplets by your side. 

“My princess!” Your father beams, giving you a hug as your mother presses a kiss to your forehead. “I see you have gotten the special dress made for today. You look absolutely stunning.” He cups your cheek, his expression full of glee. “It is no wonder you have been named the diamond of the season.” 

Your eyes roll playfully. “Thank you, Father…” Though you pretend to act embarrassed, your heart warms at the affection shown by your parents. They have always been there to provide the best advice and shower you in love from a young age. You’ve heard from other kingdoms of princesses being raised by maids and ladies in waiting, and you wouldn’t wish that on your worst enemy. 

“Please, mingle with the gentleman, sweetie.” Your mother cups your chin, looking at you with the softest gaze. “Many of them have come to us for your hand, but the decision is ultimately up to you. And remember…” Her other hand adjusts the tiara on your head. ”You are not required to choose this year. You may wait. We do not want to force you into a loveless marriage.” 

Nodding, you look around to find everyone’s eyes on you. It’s not something you aren’t used to, so you smile and nod to the crowd. Wow … Most of these people here for you? Just because you’re used to the attention doesn’t make it all the more odd to know that the young men here are all wishing to be your husband. 

“Alright, I shall.” With a hug to your parents, you let Tara clear the way for you to grab a drink and a snack as you greet some of the men. 

Then, a low grunt of someone clearing their throat comes from behind you as you’re listening to a man talk about his farm. It’s not that he isn’t interesting, but your eyes immediately brighten as you excuse yourself and turn to see the one you’ve been hoping to catch. 

“Hello, Your Highness.” Xavier’s palm is sweaty, but he hides the quick wipe of his hand on his elegant suit pants before holding your gloved hand and bowing. He’s much more handsome up close than far away, but as he stands straight again, you notice the thin line of his lips closed in a stoic expression. 

“Oh, uhm.” You bow, trying to give him a smile, but it’s immediately quelled by the seemingly forced one he gives you. “Hello, Prince Xavier.” 

“You remember my name.” His eyebrows disappear behind his silver hair that hangs down in front of his forehead. The warmth of his fingers still rests under yours, and there’s a moment of silence as Tara taps the middle of your back.

Snapping out of your daze, you pull your hand to your side once more. When you speak, you can’t help the slight stutter in your words. “Yes, I do.” Your brain tells you to collect yourself, that you shouldn’t be so affected just by him speaking two words to you. “It is hard to forget when you would speak about the many advancements Philos has taken during the Royal Meetings.” 

It’s true. The way he conducts himself in the meetings, despite being surrounded by so many elders, is admirable, and you also find yourself becoming entranced by his deep yet gentle tone. 

He seems even more taken aback by your remembrance of him. The seam of his lips parts slightly, and you feel the air around you becoming a bit awkward. A part of your mind thinks that maybe the rumors in the article are true, that for some reason or another, he denied his initial betrothed and sought you out… But why wasn’t he showing any emotion? 

“Yes,” the deep timbre of his voice breaks the silence. Even though the chatter around you has turned a bit hectic, with men glaring at the Prince of Philos for just a moment to talk to you, it’s as if there is a bubble around you, the prince and Tara. “Our advancements are vast, and that is all thanks to the scientists we have working tirelessly.” 

Tilting your head to the side, you hum. “So you do not have anything to do with such advancements?” It’s a bit of a teasing question, one meant to entice him into more conversation. “I thought you were the head of these missions, but it seems as if I was mistaken.” 

A hint of a smile flashes past his face, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. With his arms behind his back, he rocks on his heels, looking around as if he were searching for an out. Before you can excuse yourself, he speaks. “You are very mistaken, Your Highness.” The way the title rolls off his tongue has your heart speeding up. “Along with being Crown Prince, I am the head of our research team and work long nights with our scientists to ensure successful experiments.” 

“Oh?” Your intrigue gets the better of you, and you drop the regal act for just a moment. You are you, the Princess in you sitting down to reveal the lover of information. “What kind of experiments? We are conducting our own here, but I am rather busy with lessons and meetings with my parents to attend.” 

There’s a spark of something in his eyes as he takes a step closer. It’s not enough to make you uncomfortable. Rather, it’s the right distance away to admire the glow of his skin in the rising sun or the sparkle of blue that flashes as he darts his gaze across your features. 

“We have been charting the stars recently.” Xavier’s voice has a hint of excitement in it, the normally stoic deepness of his sentences making way for a longing to share his knowledge. “Our kingdom has vast, beautiful forests and salt flats that make way for the most stunning view of the night sky. You can nearly see to the edge of the galaxy from the highest point of the palace.” 

It’s the most he’s spoken in one breath, his cheeks tingling pink as he flattens out the bottom of his vest. Clearing his throat, his eyes fall to the ground for a moment before he meets your gaze, his expression flattening to one of near indifference. There’s a familiar awkwardness surrounding you, but it’s to be expected of two people who have just met, especially with the implication of marriage hanging between you. 

“If you wish, I would love to welcome you to our palace. There is a meteor shower next month, and it is a rare occurrence, according to my research. You can catch a perfect view of it from one of our observatories.” He can’t seem to look at you for long before directing his gaze somewhere else, and while you don’t want to hold it against him, you wish you could find the secrets hidden in his deep blue irises.

Tara’s hand presses into your back, but before she can speak, you smile. “I would love that, but perhaps I can visit sooner? I am able to see the meteor shower perfectly fine from my observatory, so I think an earlier visit would be more suited for me.” 

He hums, hands folded in front of him as he rocks on his heels once again. There is a frown on his face, and a hint of some unknown emotion swirls in his words. “Ah, very well. We can arrange something sooner, then.” 

“Wonderful. I can work out communications to have a visit arranged.” As you open your mouth to speak further, Tara stands closer to your side. 

“Apologies, Your Highness, but she must get going.” Her eyes follow the floor, bowing in front of the prince as she holds your elbow. “There are many suitors for her to meet.” 

A light blush flits across his cheeks, and he simply nods. Right, other suitors . Though you are intrigued by the mysterious Prince of Philos, you know there are many other men who are vying for your hand. Maybe you will find someone better. 

In fact, a certain Prince of Tarus was certainly not a sight for sore eyes, and you also wanted to know more about him as well. 

“So,” Tara’s whisper was a little louder than you wanted, but the excitement in her voice was one you couldn’t ignore. “What do you think?” Both of you bow and acknowledge a few people who can’t keep their eyes off you as you stroll through the grass. “Is he everything you ever imagined?” 

Leaning into her side, you let out a chuckle. “I suppose I did not imagine much when I thought about him.” It is true… There were the obvious fantasies of grandeur and sophistication that always followed him around, but other than that, you didn’t have any expectations for him. “Though I was surprised that the stoicism is not just an act, that is truly what he is like.” 

Taking a bite of a scone, your eyes scan the remaining suitors. No one catches your eye quite like Xavier does… Perhaps it is because all the other nobles don’t possess the same mystery and intrigue? You’re not sure. The one thing you are sure of is that you wish to know more. 

“I do have some trepidations…”

“Like what, My Lady?” Tara cocks her head, pouring you another drink.

“He does not seem interested in me, correct?” Like a child pouting, you dip your head to blow on the hot tea. “I know that it is important for me to find a husband, but I do wish to have some semblance of affection between us.” 

Her short hair is rustled by the wind as she shakes her head. “You are such a romantic.” It’s said with no bite behind it, a fond smile finding its way onto her face as she moves a little closer. “He is quite handsome, though.” 

Your nod is accompanied by walking as you make your way through the crowd. There are a few men that spark your interest, and you decide to push the thoughts of the Prince of Philos to the back of your mind. It is the time to explore options, and it is okay to dip your feet in unknown waters. 

“You are right, Tara. He is extremely handsome, but those rumors still weigh heavy on my heart and head. What is to come if I choose him and he grows bored of me?” The words are kept to a whisper to avoid anyone else eavesdropping. “I am sure his betrothed is a lovely woman. Why is he here? Should he not just accept his arrangement? Has he grown bored of her before they were even wed, and I am his next conquest?”

A loud laugh interrupts your anxious rant. Tara holds out a plate for you to set your scone on before pulling you even further away from where the prince is surely still standing. “I do not know why he is here. I can only pretend and play into your saddened delusions.” 

Your hand lands a light smack on her arm, but the smile that follows betrays you. “I am serious, Tara. What if I choose him?” 

“Then,” Tara bows to an older gentleman who looked as if he wanted to speak to you. Ew . “He will become your Prince Consort, sitting on his throne beside your magnificent one.” Her expression becomes serious once more. “Do not get hung up on him, My Lady. There are plenty of men. Dip your feet in the water before diving headfirst.” 

As soon as she says that, a man in a dark red suit and stark white hair approaches. Sylus . With his hand outstretched, you look back at her. She nods, pushing you lightly toward the man. Go ! Her mouth moves, but no words come out, and she turns to leave. 

His smile is smooth, but his movements are more stiff and forced, as if he had been practicing it in front of the mirror. “Your Highness.” He purrs, an eyebrow raised when he stands back up. Heat radiates from his digits as he continues to hold your hand. “You look rather stunning today.” As his gaze rakes up and down your body, you shiver. It isn’t predatory like the other men around, lustful desire swimming in their eyes, but rather extremely confident as if he knows you are going to eventually end up picking him.

“Does she hate me that much?” The Prince’s words startle Tara as she watches you. Her head turns just enough to see Xavier standing a fair distance away. His eyes – already deemed cold and faraway by passersby – are also fixed on you. 

Your lady-in-waiting only shakes her head. “On the contrary, Your Highness.” Both of them are staring at you, seeing your shuffling feet and wide eyes as you listen to Sylus speak of his conquest over the zealots of his kingdom. “She already seems quite fond of you.” 

That takes Xavier by surprise. His eyebrows rise imperceptibly, head dipping to hide the blush that threatens to take hold of him. “Really?” He forces himself to remain calm, his beating heart the only thing he can hear for a few moments. 

“She does not think you share the same sentiment or affections toward her.” Tara clears her throat, sipping on her tea before continuing. “And if I may speak so candidly, she worries about the rumors circling.” 

An awkward silence settles between them. The weight of Tara’s words sit heavy on Xavier’s heart. The rumors are the bane of his existence, and as soon as he thinks about it, his jaw clenches. 

“What must I do?” He sounds almost desperate, staring at his teacup in contemplation. “I want her to know I am sincere in my pursuit of her hand.” 

“But are you just after her hand?” Your lady-in-waiting interrupts him, and she knows it’s impolite, but she’s also your friend. “Or are you after her heart as well?” 

Another awkward silence inches in, but before it can linger too long, you meet Tara’s eye. With a bow, Tara begins to walk away. “Farewell, Your Highness.” Looking back, she smiles. “And good luck.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Tara’s expert hands tie up your corset, and her eyes stare over your shoulder as your gown shimmers in the light. “You look exquisite, My Lady.” Her smile beams in the mirror, pulling away to let you examine the fabric. “Truly the diamond of the season.”

It’s a beautiful combination of lace and silk, all put together by small diamonds like a net over the bottom of the gown. It resembles stars that glimmer with each step you take, leading the way to the one you will choose at the end of the aisle. As soon as the moonlight hits through your window and you know under the large chandelier that it will look as if the sky is dancing on the large ceiling of the ballroom.

You met many interesting men during your walk in the garden just a few days ago, and as the article said, only two caught your eye. Prince Sylus and Prince Xavier. The two princes with the rumors and scandals each have their own types of baggage that would serve to tear you away from them. Or perhaps, build the relationship up even stronger. 

Prince Sylus is obviously physically strong, with glowing red eyes that stand out even in the brightest sun. An aura of darkness surrounds him, but you can tell from the softness of his smile that he is not inherently evil. However, when forced to really reflect on it, and maybe it is just due to only meeting him a few times, you don’t think about the prospect of marriage with him.

Prince Xavier seems like the opposite, but his stride is one of a warrior. He backs down when he knows he has to and doesn’t force an issue further than it needs to go. Everything about him looks gentle, but the ice in his gaze and the straight line of his lips make a pit of anxiety well up inside you. It makes you question his intentions, even with the feelings that are swelling up like a balloon in your chest. 

“Thank you, Tara.” You can’t help the way your head dips to admire the gown up close. The bodice is simple, forcing everyone’s eyes to the bottom of the gown, the elegance of your stride fit only for a future Queen. For a ball in your honor? It’s perfect. “I love it.” 

As she escorts you down to the ballroom, Xavier stands with his friend and right-hand man. Jeremiah sips from a tall glass, scanning the room. “You know, I saw her chatting with Prince Sylus the other day in the garden.” 

Xavier hums, nodding as he looks around. It’s obvious what – or who – he is looking for, but his friend still chooses to let it be. “Well, should your advice work, I hope that I am able to pull her attention away from my dear friend .” His words are sour at the end, as if a part of him is actually worried about you choosing the Prince of Tarus instead of him.

In reality, he’s terrified of you choosing someone else. His feelings have festered inside him, stealing glances during royal meetings and listening with a lovestruck expression as you spoke to the room of elders. He’s enamored, and once he heard about you announcing your hand, he knew he had to jump at the chance. 

“I hope so, as well.” Jeremiah sighs, bumping his shoulder. “I did not spend the whole day yesterday flirting with women in the town square just for you to not use any of my advice.” 

“There is a difference between observation and practical use, isn’t th–” All of Xavier’s thoughts go out the window as soon as he watches you walk down the large staircase in the foyer. Your smile shines like the brightest star, and there isn’t much the Prince of Philos can do except hum along to Jeremiah’s words. Was he still talking? 

He wants to be the first to approach you, ask for your hand, and dance the night away, but he must relent. You are meant to mingle with the men there, to find the one whom you want to call your husband, but just the thought of watching you twirl around the ballroom in another man’s arms has Xavier’s Adam’s apple bobbing. Worry about rejection also murmurs in the skipped beats of his heart. Should he ask for a dance and you say no? He thinks he will just lie down in the pasture and wait for the stars to call him up. 

Masquerade masks decorate the top halves of everyone’s faces because there’s something even more interesting in shrouding people with mystery. Sure, you would be able to pick them out without their masks, but there’s an impersonal aspect that strips a person down to just their soul.  

The silver mask is tight around his eyes, but it matches his suit and fits him quite well. The accents only serve to accentuate the shimmering blue of his eyes, and he hopes that it is enough to leave an impression on you. 

No . It’s not enough to leave an impression. He wants to open up, show more of his emotions and feelings, just as Tara told him he should do. It’s hard. It’s going to be hard. But he’ll do it. 

There’s no one else in the entire world he wants other than you. The first time he saw you, he was entranced by your appearance, but observing you from afar, the one thing he truly fell for was your mind. Every little bit of your words and thoughts culminate together to form who you are. He wants to know more. He wants to know all of you. 

By the time he has finally gathered the courage to walk up to you, your back is to him. Tara catches his eye, a small glimmer of amusement. For what, he’s not sure, but you’re turning around to face him before he can even ponder. 

“Hello, Your Highness.” You know exactly who it is. His mask is exquisite, covering the sharp lines of his cheekbones, but the stunning blue of his eyes could be picked out of a lineup. Just as the rouse of a masquerade ball, there is an added mystery hiding behind his eyes. “Are you enjoying the ball?” 

You aren’t wearing a mask. It was an idea that you entertained, but your parents insisted you were the star of the ball; therefore, everyone needed to see every feature of your beauty. Their words made your skin heat up, a soft “Thank you” echoing in the air before you made your way down the stairs. 

“Yes – uh…” It’s not often Xavier stutters, but now with your attention solely on him, he can’t help the momentary lapse of thought. “It is beautiful, but not as beautiful as yourself.” It’s a line he learned from Jeremiah, but the monotone delivery hurts his efforts just a bit. 

“Thank you.” It’s obvious he isn’t used to this; his mouth still curves just slightly into a smile that seems genuine, but it isn’t enough to convey the depths of his emotions. “Your mask is quite handsome…” A playful smirk makes its way onto your face. “But not as handsome as yourself.” 

The harmless flirting has Tara nearly squealing, her eyes focused on Xavier and his expressions. His ears are currently painted bright red, while his lips part just enough to let out a light cough. 

“Thank you.” There’s a moment of silence, but Xavier doesn’t let it linger for too long. “I was going to ask if you would do me the honor of dancing with me?” 

His outstretched hand is met with your gloved one. The colors match your gown perfectly, and Xavier wishes he could feel the full warmth of your skin. 

Xavier’s been through too many dancing classes to mess this up. On the flip side, you’ve also had your fair share of lessons in ballroom dancing. The result of that is a calculated dance that is equal parts alluring and beautiful. 

The way you both move so in sync with one another maybe peaks your heart rate just a bit. It’s the fact that after listening to so many of these princes drone on and on, it’s nice to focus only on the man in front of you. Perhaps a spark goes off, a small stop to your trepidations about the prince. 

You’re still stubborn in your right to decide, but the way he looks at you, even in a fleeting moment before he turns at the crescendo of the song, is maybe making this decision a bit easier. You still have time. The thought echoes in your mind as you hold your palm out to Xavier. You can’t make such a hasty choice based on one dance. 

The music bleeds into the background, making way for you to listen to your heart. It thrums with a strange rhythm that you can only think of as matching the prince’s own. Over and over and over, crescendoing into a climax that has goosebumps rising beneath the soft silk of your gloves. 

As the dance slows, you giggle when Xavier stumbles over his feet. He’s not perfect. Even princes make mistakes. 

“May I accompany you back to the drink table?” He asks when the song finishes, letting you lead the way with a nod. Tara is nowhere to be seen. Neither is Jeremiah. But you’re both sure that the two are lurking somewhere out of sight. 

“Your Highness,” despite being your title, sounds different coming from his lips. "If I may be so bold, may I ask you a question?” 

A light flush of pink kisses the tips of his ears. “Of course. Ask away.” 

Xavier clears his throat, taking a moment to admire the way the light highlights your features. “What are you looking for in a future husband?” It is a bold question, but one that he feels so compelled to ask. He wants to know everything about you, but he can only hope he fits your ideals. 

It catches you off guard. So much so that you have to take a moment to stare at the ground. The tile is an intricate pattern, one that, if you look at it for too long, will make your head start to hurt. “Well…” You say to stall for time. It’s hard putting your finger on the pulse of your desires. “I do not dwell on physical attributes, but I do wish to be attracted to him.” The filter leaves your brain as you keep talking. “It will help when we make an heir to my kingdom.” 

The flush on Xavier’s ears only deepens at the implications, but he nods and listens nonetheless. He always admired how well spoken you were, how candidly you debated with the elders of the nobles, but the direct statements still throw him for a loop. 

“I admire honesty above all else. A man who would lie to me would betray me.” Your eyes refuse to meet his, somehow feeling just a bit shy under his watchful eye. Other suitors have asked this question before, but none have received as detailed an answer as Xavier. 

“I also need loyalty. The man whom I marry will be swearing an oath to me, his wife. I must be his one and only devotion.” Conviction lines your words, but they soften when you think about one last thing. “And despite the pressures of society, my parents have always told me to marry for love. So, I must love him, or at least be able to plant a seed that will grow into love.” 

Xavier can’t do anything but stand there for a moment, his eyes the slightest bit wider. He’s lucky you can’t hear his heartbeat, which is going even faster than before. It is the most he’s heard you speak, and yet he yearns for more. 

“I see…” He trails off, trying to think back to his lessons with Jeremiah. It all becomes fuddled in his brain when he looks at you. His own heart betrays his head, wiping out all of his thoughts. “Those are admirable traits.”

Even he realizes just how uncaring that sounded, so he nods, holding out a hand to the beautiful atmosphere around you. “How has this night been for you?” His question lingers in the air as you think. 

With a hum, you stare down at your scone. It’s your favorite flavor, and you wonder what his favorite is. “It has been alright. The other suitors are not as good of a dancer as you are.” 

Xavier laughs a genuine chuckle that strikes the bottom half of his cheeks a light pink right below where the mask ends. “I have always been praised for my swordsmanship and my dancing.” 

“Those are two very different things, are they not?” Your eyebrows rise, leaning an inch closer to hear his voice. It’s a sweet melody that you think you could dance to should you try hard enough. 

He shakes his head. “On the contrary, Your Highness.” His deep voice strikes a bit of excitement, the tone shifting into one with just a tinge more emotion than you’ve heard from him before. “Both require the right amount of poise and accuracy. If I take a wrong step, I will ruin your beautiful shoes.” You laugh lightly, but his expression remains a light smile. “And if I miss my opponent with my blade, there goes my head.” 

“I scarcely think those two are the same.” It is as if bubbles float up and burst inside your chest, soaring into the night sky. There are no clouds in sight, and from this angle, you can catch a glimpse of a few stars through the large windows of the ballroom. 

“Well, next time we dance, I will step on your feet and see if you have my head.” You know it’s a joke, but your skin prickles at his boldness of another dance. Of course, another dance. You think, already anticipating another song. 

A comfortable silence settles over you, but before Tara can come in and sweep you away, Xavier speaks up once more. “My offer to visit Philos still stands. Whenever you wish to accompany me, just say the word.” The words are much more gentle and full of a quiet hope that you will want to visit his kingdom.

“I would very much like that.” You’re already going to Tarus Kingdom, Sylus’s domain, so it’s only fitting for you to visit Xavier’s as well. The two were the most eligible bachelors, and your head was growing fond of them both. Visiting their kingdoms would surely push you along in your decision. “Perhaps after the fencing tournament.” 

Xavier nods, bowing deeply and holding onto your hand before standing up straight. His bright eyes shine behind the mask. “What will I get when I win the tournament?” There’s a hint of mirth in his tone, but it’s serious all the same. 

“How do you know you will win?” You banter, an eyebrow raised. “All of my suitors will be participating…” 

Just the mere mention of your other suitors has Xavier’s mouth settling into a thin line. He catches himself quickly, clearing his throat before smirking. “It seems you are mistaken once again, Your Highness.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jeremiah and Tara standing together, most definitely plotting on something , though you are unsure what it is. “I was raised on the notion that to be a noble, you must learn to fight for everything.” A hint of something flashes in his eyes, but with the shadows of his mask darkening his irises and the fleeting feelings that pass, you can’t catch it. “In more recent times, if I want to win a battle, then that is what will happen.” 

“So there are battles you want to lose?” His mystery only serves to frustrate you. There are more questions than answers, but perhaps it is a bit of impatience on your part. Impatience breeds annoyance, which in turn can sour all feelings that threaten to develop. 

A curt nod is your answer, followed by another quick bow. “I will ask you to accompany me once more when I win the tournament.” 

You watch as he walks away, giving Tara a smile and nod before saying something and gesturing for Jeremiah to follow him. The two men disappear into the crowd, and you’re left with a frown and a scone still uneaten in your hand. 

“He said something to Jeremiah about ‘lessons’.” Tara chuckles as she saddles up by your side. Her eyebrows move as she leans closer. “His friend was telling me how Prince Xavier forced him to go flirt with women in the town square to help him be more expressive.” 

“Well, it did not work.” You don’t mean to sound sour, but it comes out with a bitter tone. “There was banter, yes.” A shrug jerks at your shoulders, and you avoid the eyes of hungry men waiting for the chance to ask you to the dance floor. “But he is so mysterious. It is frustrating.” 

“I am sorry, My Lady.” Tara rests a hand on your bicep, giving you a porcelain plate to put your scone on so you don’t get crumbs on your gloves. “Perhaps we should see how he does at the fencing tournament?” 

“He said he was going to win.” 

“What?” She can’t help the incredulous chuckle. “Does he know how many suitors will be fighting? He cannot be that confident.” 

“He is.” You nod with an almost slanted smile that displays no happiness on your face. “He said if he wants to win a battle, then that is what will happen.” 

Tara scoffs, rolling her eyes as she watches where Xavier and Jeremiah left. “He sounds oh so humble.” 

“We shall see during the tournament if his words hold any weight or if I am to let him sink in the weight of his deceptions.” You sigh, letting Tara lead the way to another table, only to be caught up in a swarm of men asking you to dance. While you allow them to step on your feet, smile, and apologize before beginning again, you think about Xavier. He would never step on your feet, but would he lose the battle?

The statements replay in your mind, along with the intense stare from the Philos prince as you described your ideal husband. He was interested, that was certain, but was it because he was studying you as if you were some textbook to be memorized? Or was he interested in reading between the lines?

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The setup for the fencing competition takes a little longer than you anticipated. 

It’s days of waiting, of stealing glances at the suitors that filter in and out of the main area of the palace. Day in and day out, they chat, sit with you for tea, but their conversations are superficial and one-sided. Instead of talking with you, they talk at you. 

As if you are some prize to be won. But in some of their eyes, you are. 

The diamond of the season, assessing all her options to pick the lucky man who can say he was chosen by the most desired lady of the marriage market. It’s a bit sickening to think of it that way, but the stares of some of your suitors are hungry only for title and notoriety, not for your heart. 

Even Prince Sylus chats with you, his eyes expressive beyond a shadow of a doubt in showing some semblance of interest. Yet he talks as though the marriage would be one of convenience, driven by politics. Merging kingdoms instead of giving up his title. What would become of your people should you agree to that?

The one person you really want to talk to does not approach. 

Xavier stays by Jeremiah’s side, whispering in hushed tones as they sip cups of whatever liquid they are being served. Tara doesn’t even bother going over because the frown on your face when you pass by the two men and the silver-haired man does not call out for you only causes more heartbreak. It further drives the wedge of doubt in your heart, slowly snuffing out the glimmer of hope that perhaps he is actually interested in you and not anything else. 

“I do not understand, Tara.” You whisper, taking a deep breath as she ties your corset for you. Your outfit for the day’s activities is casual, just a simple gown with no special adornments. In fact, you prefer the soft, silken purple that accentuates your bodice and hips. 

“I am afraid I do not understand it either, My Lady.” She sighs, smoothing out the back of your dress before looking at your face in the mirror. “I cannot pretend to understand what goes on in the mind of these men.” 

“Indeed.” Meeting her eyes, you blink slowly. “At least the Prince of Tarus is straightforward in his intentions… Perhaps it would be easier to marry him.” 

“My Lady,” Tara adjusts the back of your dress, giving you a once-over to make sure everything is pristine. “I have not heard you speak of Prince Sylus once besides when you spoke of settling for him.” 

“Yes but-” 

“I believe you should follow your heart. You never know what may transpire on the long journey to your true feelings.” She whispers, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight of your room. 

With a sigh, you slip on your gloves. The silk is soft on your skin, and you smile before speaking again. “I just do not understand Prince Xavier.” 

Shrugging, Tara sets your tiara on your head. “Once again, I do not wish to be in the minds of these men.” 

You chuckle, your spirits always lifted by her comebacks. “He is here for my hand, yes?” The question is answered by a nod. “Then one would think he would want to win my hand … Yes?” Another nod. “Exactly.” A huff falls from your lips, one of pure confusion and exasperation.

“Well, I suppose we must get this over with.” Your short heels click on the ornate flooring. “He said he will be winning this battle, so let us see if he is a man of his word.” 

Your presence halts all conversation when you make your way through the garden. The stone steps are laid out for you to the seat next to your parents. It’s quite an extravagant setting, with a clearing blocked off for the duels as well as supplies and seating for the people not competing. 

Despite your better judgment, your eyes immediately find the one you’ve been searching for. 

White padding sits in front of his regal attire, a dark vest and thin slacks, paired with an even brighter white shirt that has been rolled up to showcase his biceps. A genuine specimen of a man, you think. But the lingering grievances still poke their heads up in the back of your mind. 

“I believe he is doing that on purpose, My Lady.” Tara leans over to whisper to you, her seat right next to yours. You’re insistent on having her by your side at all times, as you feel most comforted by her outlook on things. “Showing off his assets as if he were some sort of animal doing a dance for a mate.” 

“You are detailed in your words, Tara.” You speak between bouts of laughter. “And I love it.” 

Your mother, wearing an intricate crown and an even more flamboyant outfit, sets a hand on top of yours. As reigning Queen, she knows just what it’s like to be in your place, especially considering she will be giving up the title to you when you are wed. 

“How are you faring, sweetheart?” Her soothing voice calms the raging insanity of your own thoughts, if just for a moment. “Are there any suitors you have your eye on?” 

She already knows of both the Prince of Philos, his charms catching her eye lest she know of his severe lack of emotion, and the Prince of Tarus, his prowess towering over the others in terms of political alliances, but your other endeavors are secrets to her. As her eyes scan the crowd of men that have already started to battle, she commands the people with just a flick of her eyes. 

You've always admired her strength and power, but when faced with a difficult decision such as this, you wish you had even an ounce of her conviction. However, you assume it all comes with age, and you need to pick a husband who will grow with you and support you in your journey. 

“I am faring well, thank you.” One glance is stolen toward her before you find the Philos prince’s gaze once more. “And perhaps I do, but I have some worries I must work out first.” 

“Is it Prince Xavier?” Her voice tells you all you need to know, eyes following yours until they land on the silver-haired man who has not once taken his stare off you. It’s intense, the unwavering expression of determination and slight cockiness that is displayed as he twirls the sabre between his fingers.

“It is.” You confirm, straightening your back and watching as he steps up to his first match. She has always told you how much she liked him, yet she knew nothing of him despite how he handled himself at royal meetings. She does not see the mystery that lingers behind his words, sending you further and further into a spiral of your own emotions. “How did you know?” 

“Mother’s intuition, my dear princess.” She mumbles, her mouth barely moving, but the words are crystal clear. “And I have seen the way he has been looking at you since he arrived in Linkon.” Finishing her sentence with a nod, she goes quiet as the match begins.

There is an ease to his movements as he faces off, and for the first time since you caught his gaze, he’s looking away from you to focus on his opponent. It doesn’t take long for him to gather the appropriate amount of points to advance to the next round, but before he slinks back into the crowd, he faces you. 

A bow, yet his blue eyes sparkle as they stay stuck on yours. He does not acknowledge the other royalty sitting beside you. They do not matter to him. It is your expression that he wishes to read, to have some idea of what you're thinking. All he gets back is a gentle smile and a nod. 

“He is good.” Your mother whispers, her smile betraying her excitement for you.

“He is.”

“Then what are your worries, sweetheart?” She can see the blossoming of realization inside you, the way your fingers drum on the armrest of the chair while all the other men who aren’t Xavier take turns. They are underwhelming. 

You sigh, taking a moment to collect your thoughts. “You have seen the article.” It’s a start, but there is much more to your trepidations. “I have made efforts to get to know him, but I am met with mystery and a lack of emotion.” Another sigh comes as a victor is crowned between two men who look as if they could be your father. “He is here for my hand, and I wish he would be more straightforward.” 

“He needs time.” She rubs her thumb across your knuckles, her attention pulled away by the next round of battles. Xavier steps up once more, his face obscured by his helmet, but his stature changes just as it did before. His soft elegance morphs into a harsh, squat stance, his arm outstretched. “There is obviously a reason for his refusal to his assigned betrothed.” 

“But I do not have time.” You counter, your eyes narrowing as Xavier delivers quick strikes and jabs that render his opponent helpless to the rising point total. “If I do not marry this season, I fear that I will be looked at as wasted potential.” 

The Prince is so confident in his strides, and the buttons of his sleeves strain against the hidden muscles of his biceps. It’s unorthodox to fight like that, with arms bare to any unwanted slice of the sabre. In fact, he looks interesting … With the white padding across his chest and the helmet over his head, he is akin to one of those test dummies that the guards use for archery practice.

Your mother chuckles, shaking her head. “Nonsense, my sweet.” Her gentle tone wafts over you, and you give Xavier another smile and nod as he bows with his second win. One more left, and he will be crowned the winner of the tournament. “You have time. Your father and I want you to marry when you are ready.” 

There is a moment of silence before she speaks again. “Though I hope you do not wait until you are well in your middle ages.” Her joke makes you laugh softly. “We just wish for you to be happy. You are not wasted potential.” She pulls her hand away from yours, the cheers of the battles drowning out as you listen to her. “You will always be a diamond in our eyes and in the eyes of your future husband.” 

“Thank you.” Your words are sincere, and you give your mother a warm smile before you’re brought back to the tournament in front of you. 

The finals…

“You know, My Lady.” Tara pokes your arm as the two men prepare for the final. “The Prince has not taken his eyes off of you besides when he needs to fight.” 

She’s right. 

Xavier’s eyes are locked on you, even as Jeremiah smooths out his padding and helps him adorn his helmet. The sabre glitters in the light, and his opponent stares at him with a smirk before putting on his own helmet, bowing, and clinking weapons. 

Then, the fight begins. 

It seems more like child’s play for the Philos prince. Each jab is countered to near perfection, and even as his opponent plays a good defence, it is no match for the quickness of Xavier’s step and the strength with which he pierces the protective padding. 

It is true that he is a skilled swordsman. That much is evident by the beauty and grace with which he conducts himself even on a mere ‘battlefield’ such as this one. 

He is right when he compares it to a dance, you realize. The poise and accuracy required to predict your opponent's next move and counter it with practiced ease are akin to dancing. Except, as he said, in one, you would ruin your shoes, and in the other, you would be rendered lifeless. 

The battle lasts only a bit longer than Xavier’s previous ones, his back flexing against the fabric of his shirt that is darkened by a light sheen of sweat that wouldn’t be noticeable if you weren’t so intently focused on him. It isn’t until he has delivered the final blow that he goes back to his much more rigid and calculated movements. 

“Congratulations, Prince Xavier of Philos.” Your mother’s voice carries through the crowd, and a light applause waits for him as he stands to attention and bows to the queen. “You are the winner of the Linkon Fencing Tournament.” 

“Thank you, Your Majesty.” His voice is different, more controlled, and with a measured level of grace. 

In a moment of silence, his attention drifts back to you, but not before your mother's next words have him teasing a hint of a smile. 

“Is there anything you wish to say?” 

Your hands grip the armrests of the chair, and you fight the urge to lean forward, focus your mind on every syllable that leaves his soft pink lips. Stop it. You think, your heart running on overdrive as he steps closer until he is right in front of the raised platform you are sitting on. 

He bows, eyes boring into your own. Pure elegance fills his actions, and his words leave the rest of the suitors blinking back in surprise. “I wish to speak to the princess directly.” You nod, unable to say anything lest you make a fool of yourself by stuttering over your words. “I wish for you to accompany me to my kingdom. It would be an honor to be graced by your presence in the palace I grew up in, and perhaps it would be a better opportunity for us to get better acquainted.” 

It’s a bold move to speak like this in front of all of your suitors, but there’s a spark of intrigue and interest there that you can’t deny. So you nod, your voice giving away with a small waver. “I would love that, Prince Xavier.” There is a moment where you contemplate your next move, but your natural progression of thought falls from your lips before you can stop it. “I am glad you made well on your promise to win.” 

“As I have said before, Your Highness.” His face remains nearly expressionless save for the hint of a smile curling at the edge of his lips. “I had to learn to fight for everything. And fight I will.” 

The way he carries himself as the tournament is called to an end and the men begin to meander around for a bit longer catches you off guard. Yes, he does have a bit more pep in his step after the win, but there is a hesitance to his movements while he chats with Jeremiah. 

“Mother,” you whisper, looking over at her. “How does one know that they are in love?” 

“I am afraid you must feel it with every inch of your soul, sweetheart.” She takes a breath, squeezing your father’s hand as he chats with an elder about kingdom matters. Despite being the Prince Consort, he still deals quite a bit with political decisions. After all, marriage is a joint effort, as your mother always said. “But you will know. It will strike you subtly because it is impossible to fall in love at first glance.” 

“It seems to me that you are thinking about something… Or rather, someone.” Tara nudges your side, a nearly inaudible laugh coming as you lightly smack her arm. “I am just saying, My Lady. You have not spoken much about anyone else besides him.” 

“It is because he consumes most of my waking thoughts.” With his back turned to you, there is an imperceptible frown that makes its way onto your face. Perhaps you have gotten used to his eyes, so deep and blue like the ocean, that the mere absence of them is disheartening. “He is an enigma; that is why. I just wish to know more about him.” 

Tara rolls her eyes, taking a sip of tea before rising and holding out her hand. “Of course, My Lady.” Her smile only makes your stomach turn. “Let us get you changed and ready for dinner. We can also prepare for our trips to Tarus and Philos.”

“Our?” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” Your mother nods. “You are not to just wander off alone without an accompaniment. So Tara will be going with you. Though I am sure she will be keeping a distance.” 

“Very well.” Deep down, you’re glad that she is coming, just in case things go awry. After all, she is somewhat skilled in combat and will be able to assist in any takedowns should you need it. “I will be getting ready for dinner.” 

Tara follows behind you, taking notice of the way Xavier turns and watches you depart. Despite the set line of his lips, his eyebrows rise half an inch. “My Lady,” she whispers, both of your shoes clicking on the linoleum floor of your palace. “Shall we go to Tarus first?”

“It is farther away than Philos…” you comment, your bottom lip stuck between your teeth for a second of contemplation. 

She sighs, taking the tiara off your head and going into your closet to find a more suitable dress for dinner. “Yes, however it does make sense to go to the farthest kingdom first.” A sneaky smirk makes it’s way onto her face as she unties your corset. “I also believe it is smart to go to Philos last… As I think that you will be able to make up your mind after talking to them both.” 

“I am not sure, Tara.” Letting her slip off your dress, she pulls the new one up your body. “It is stressful to pick my husband from men whom I have barely met.” 

“You’ve met Prince Xavier at royal meetings, correct?” Her correction has you nodding. “And you have taken the time to remember his name throughout those meetings.” 

“Yes, but Prince Sylus–”

“Does not make your heart sing in the same way Prince Xavier does.” With an eyebrow raised, her hands swiftly tie up your corset to hold the silk fabric against your bodice. “The only time you have mentioned Prince Sylus was to second guess your feelings for Prince Xavier.”

You sigh. “You are entirely too attuned to these things.” 

“I have been your lady-in-waiting for years.” Tara puts the tiara back on your head. “I am a lot more observant than I seem, and it seems as though the Philos Prince has taken your interest, moreso than the Tarus Prince.” 

With a roll of your eyes, you pout at her. “Though all of this pining will not matter if he does not feel the same.” 

“You never know what will happen, My Lady.” She pauses, looking back at the door to your bedchambers. “Now, let us attend dinner.” 

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

The day before your outing to Philos, Tara finds Xavier in a hidden corner of the ballroom, seemingly hiding from you as you chat with an older gentleman and his son. He’s not sure why he is so persistent on not talking to you, but as soon as your lady-in-waiting approaches, he dips his head, trying to hide his guilty expression behind a shroud of silver hair. 

“You know, Your Highness.” She starts, leaning against the wall as she keeps an eye on you from afar. “To win her affections, you must actually talk to her.” 

“I know but–” 

“There are no buts to that sentence.” Tara is much more stern in her convictions, her eyes never leaving your figure as your gown sparkles in the chandelier lights. “Apologies, but I do not wish to sit idly by and watch My Lady’s heart get shattered because she is too stuck on someone who will not fight for just a moment of her attention. That is what she deserves.” 

Xavier is silent, his stare also fixated on you. It’s infuriating watching you idle around and talk to these men when all he wants to do is pull you aside and dance under the stars for hours. 

“I do not know how.” He whispers, a hint of broken sadness inching into his words. “I have been told that intellect and strength are far better than emotions, and it is hard to force myself to think differently. All the lessons from Jeremiah are good in practice, but for once in my life, it is impossible for me to put practice to work.” 

Tara hums. “That is quite the predicament.” There is a pause as she thinks. “I am not asking you to change yourself completely. She is beginning to fall for you, that is certain, but to show her you feel the same and solidify the bond that is forming, you must tell her that.” 

A light blush paints his cheeks. “I will try to do it during her visit to Philos… But I am worried that I will mess it up.” His insecurities shine through, heart threatening to beat out of his chest when he thinks about bearing his soul to you. It’s an essential part of a relationship, yet he feels as though his feelings are locked behind a cage, wanting to get out yet seemingly unable to do so.

“The only way that you will mess it up is if you do not do it.” She reassures him. “I am close to her, ever since we were children. I am confident that it will work in your favor if you are just honest with her.” 

Her advice washes over him, causing his muscles to loosen up. His back is still pin straight, the air of royalty still lingering around him, but it’s obvious that her words have some sort of effect on the prince.

“Alright…” Xavier pauses, the muscles in his face relaxing into a soft smile as he watches you chat with another suitor. “I shall keep that in mind. Thank you.” 

“Of course, Your Highness.” Tara bows, seeing the way you fiddle with your fingers and look around for your lady in waiting. With a bow, she meets Xavier’s eye, her lips curling into a smile. “My lady needs me, so I shall take my leave. We will see you in the morning to depart for Philos.” 

“Wait.” The urgency in his voice stops her in her tracks. Before she can ask what is wrong, he continues. “I – uhm… I would like if you both accompanied me in my own carriage, if… if that is something that would be okay?” 

Tara beams, her eyes crinkling with the excitement of her smile. “I am sure my lady would love that, Your Highness. I will let her know of the arrangement for the morning.” The prince’s hand clutches the plate, nearly shaking with the nerves of asking such a bold question, but it seemed like the best opportunity to talk more with you. “And I promise not to intrude on your private conversations.” 

“Thank you.” He bows to her, a genuine smile on his face as she walks back over to you. For a fleeting moment, he contemplates going to the town doctor, asking him about the ailment that has affected him to the point that his heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest. 

But he knows the answer.

It’s you.

“Should our kingdoms merge, I know that our armies would be nearly unstoppable.” Sylus’s lips curl into a proud smile. “We have made remarkable advancements in the fields of weapons, and as you have seen, I have a room of specialty-made flintlocks of my own.” 

Humming along to his words, you rock on your heels. Tarus is stunning, and his palace itself is unlike any other. Yet, him speaking as if it were a political movement had your heart sinking just a bit. 

It isn’t until Tara comes up to your side that you smile genuinely. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Your Highness.” You bow, shaking his hand while leaning against Tara. “Thank you.” You whisper as soon as he is out of earshot, a soft giggle coming from your lips as she leads you further away. 

And you realize something.

The whole time you spoke to Prince Sylus, your mind was stuck on Prince Xavier.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Being up before the sun even rises should be outlawed. 

The thought comes to you as you watch Tara folding pajamas and outfits for the next day before placing them in the small case. It’s not much, but then again, the trip is only for a day. You'll be going to Philos, touring the kingdom, and talking more with the prince about everything before taking your leave the next afternoon.

There isn’t much time left before the end of the season, when the suitors will leave with their engagements while they give up on chasing the diamond. Some of the men have already found their wives, which doesn’t help your predicament because you are stuck . 

With it coming to an end, you are determined to find a husband. Your heart tells you that both Prince Sylus and Prince Xavier hold some affection for you, but you’re not sure which path to take. 

The Prince of Tarus has strength and audacity, while the Prince of Philos is elegant and gentle. In the back of your mind, you’ve already made your decision, but the anxieties of picking the man you’ll spend the rest of your life with eat at every fibre of your being. 

“There is one more thing before we depart, My Lady.” Tara has a glint of mischief in her eyes, her smile turning sickeningly sweet while you slip on satin gloves almost up to your elbow. “We have… changed the arrangement of the carriages.” 

“Oh?” It isn’t until you are walking through the halls that she continues. 

“The Prince has asked for us to accompany him in his own carriage to Philos. He came to me directly last night while you were busying yourself with trivial matters.” Those trivial matters were meeting with other suitors, but she was right. “And I agreed for you.” 

“So you can just make decisions for me now?” It’s said with a teasing tone, your eyebrows raising and a smile curling the corners of your lips up, before you’re rendered into silence by your mother clapping.

Her arms wrap around you, pulling you close. “Some of the men that have found wives have already left.” Good . “And your special suitor awaits you, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, but the smile on your face betrays your excitement. “He is no special suitor –”

“Nonsense, of course he is!” She interrupts you, cupping your cheeks with her hands. “He and I had a nice conversation whilst waiting for you.” Another roll of your eyes, though the rapid pace of your heart quickens. “And I think he would make an amazing son-in-law.” 

“We shall see about that.” You don’t mean to sound picky, but after growing up with loving parents who devote time to each other despite ruling over a kingdom, you could say you are just a bit spoiled. “I am hoping that this trip will help finalize my decision, and I may take myself off the market by our next garden party in a week.” 

Her hands squeeze your face, eyes flickering across your features. Oh, how you’ve grown up. She thinks, her smile morphing to one of nostalgic melancholy as she lets you go. “Do not rush into things, sweetheart. You know what your father and I have told you.” 

“I know, and I am not.” Your fingers wrap around her wrists, squeezing as if to offer some sort of comfort. “I… am starting to understand the feelings in my heart, and I must confirm them. Then, I will be able to make my decision.” 

“That is my princess.” Your mother’s eyes are windows to her heart, showing you the infinite love and affection she has for you as she watches you grow up. “I am so proud of you.” 

The only thing you can do is nod because as soon as you look toward the front of the palace, you catch the eyes of the prince. 

It is as if the sky has kissed him, adorning his suit with a blue reminiscent of the most beautiful forget-me-nots in the garden. Remains of the morning clouds are too faint to see in front of the wide expanse of cerulean that greets you as you let your eyes wander up. 

It is beautiful. It is Xavier. 

“Good morning.” You bow, trying to steel your expression, but his hand reaches out for yours. He dips low, hiding his face as the tips of his silver hair dust your satin-gloved wrist. The warmth of his fingers transfers through the fabric, and there is an inexplicable tension that has been ever-present between you. 

“Good morning, Your Highness.” His eyes are a bit more intense as he looks back up at you, as if you are the sun, and he is prepared to go blind looking into your center. “The ride to Philos is not long. I hope you do not mind the arrangement I asked of your lady.” 

You can already see a mop of curly brown hair inside the carriage - which is huge . There are seats on either side large enough for him to nearly lay down on, and dark curtains obscure any passersby from peering in. His friend, Jeremiah, is finishing up setting the cushions down, and he smiles at you while straightening out his jacket. 

“I do not mind.” Your breath is taken from you when his fingers wrap around your hand, tugging just enough to have you following his lead. “In fact, I think I prefer this. It will give us more time to chat.” 

“Very well. Shall we set off, then?” His fingers are still gripping you, walking just enough to allow you the space to pull away should you want to. You do not want to. 

“Yes, let us set off.” Jeremiah gives you a smile and nod as Xavier helps you into the carriage. Luckily, the dress you are wearing doesn’t impede on the entrance, nor does it become uncomfortable as you take a seat on one of the plush pillows sitting on the bench. 

Tara follows, setting the bag of clothes to the side as Jeremiah holds out a hand to help your lady-in-waiting inside. There is a pillow beside him that she sits on, nodding and smiling while also keeping an eye on you. 

As the horses set off, the carriage becoming but a blip on the horizon, the air in the carriage turns tense. Nobody dares to speak, your eyes flickering between the other three people until you catch Tara’s. Her head jerks toward the man sitting next to you, his knees nearly brushing against yours with each bump of the wheels on the pavement. 

“I have never visited Philos before.” The start of the conversation is always awkward, dancing between emotions until you finally settle on an airy and excited one. “You have told me of the endless forests and infrastructure, but it will be different to see it for myself.” 

Once your eyes meet the prince’s, you are mesmerized by the way the rising sun casts a gold hue on his features. If he didn’t look like royalty before, he is something akin to a god now. 

“It will be different, but I hope that you find beauty in the contrast between my kingdom and yours.” He clears his throat. “My father – the King – is gone on a trip to another territory, so you will not have to worry about him meddling in our business.” 

Business? Is that what this is? You think, your expression turning sour before you force a smile on your face. Though you are curious about the specific details of the King’s endeavors, you don’t push the matter, especially not with the word choice he has made. 

Another bout of silence comes and goes, your fingers playing with the laced band around your middle. The warmth of his body radiates around you, and you find it hard to relax when he is sneaking glances at you every chance he gets. 

Grasslands morph into thick brush, which is filled with the harrowing caws of birds and the clicking of some unknown animal. A bit of fear strikes you, but after seeing the prince perform so well during the fencing competition, you don’t believe that a mere animal would be able to take him down easily. 

“How have you enjoyed the time in Linkon?” Tara is the next to break the ice, her smile directed at both Xavier and Jeremiah. 

The two exchange a look, and it is impossible to determine exactly what they are thinking when more than a second passes by before they sit back in their seats. It is as if whatever Jeremiah does, Xavier copies, but the almost imperceptible bob of his Adam’s apple gives away his nerves. 

“We have, Your Highness.” Jeremiah smiles, the apples of his cheeks poking out slightly. He has a charm to him that is undeniable, but the intrigue just isn’t there. It is not like you haven’t tried to find that spark in others. It is impossible to start a fire with no kindling. 

“Your palace is beautiful.” Xavier interrupts, nodding along to his words as if he’s agreeing with himself. “And the Queen is a delight to speak to.” 

“She told me that you spoke to her.” You frown, tilting your head and putting on a rather exasperated look. “Please tell me she did not share stories from my childhood.” 

The prince laughs, his whole chest shaking with delight as he leaned forward. His knees sit on his thighs, and it’s the first time you’ve seen him look so relaxed. The curve of his spine isn’t one allowed in royalty, for the elders would snap you back to the right posture, but it’s a welcome change to the pin-straight back he always portrays. 

“I – I can assure you she did not.” One of his hands rubs the back of his neck, and with slow blinking eyes, he tips his head up to look at you. “But now you are making me want to ask her next time we meet.” 

“There will be a next time?” Your surprised expression brings another chuckle from his lips, and you forget all about the other two people in the carriage. 

“I told her that whenever she wishes, just call upon me, and I shall arrive.” His smile turns a bit somber. “Regardless of the outcome, she is a lovely woman, and I think that our kingdoms will prosper for years to come.” 

You don’t say anything, your mind too caught up in his admission. Was he giving up? It surely seems as though he is. The way he is speaking as if he assumes your choice will not be him. It still weighs heavy on your heart, but you are steadfast in your approach to everything. 

Lifting the curtain, you watch the houses and communities of Philos pass by. Some people stand in the streets and stare as your carriage navigates winding roads. They look pleasant, with smiles on their faces and arms waved in greeting. 

“Your people seem to like you.” You comment, thinking about if they would be happy to see their Crown Prince give up his title just for you. 

“They are fond of me, not my parents.” The smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “There are many scholars that meet with me regularly to assist in our research at the palace. In return, they are offered appropriate compensation for their efforts.” 

Generous . The trait drifts into your head, and you can’t help the flutter in your heart as he speaks so highly of the people of Philos. There is a light in their eyes as they wave at you that has a natural glow. 

Children play in the street, their happy cries filling the air even as the morning breeze sweeps through. Toys sit in front of homes without being taken. Bikes fly through the streets as they gather to get a glimpse at the Crown Prince. 

One of them even raises a hand to the carriage, her eyes shining blue like the most stunning diamonds. Her smile is contagious, and you find yourself mirroring the pure glee on her face. 

“Hello! Who are you?” With it stopped, the other children stand a respectable distance away, knowing the dangers of those large wheels. This little girl, however, gazes up at you with a whimsy that you match with a soft laugh. A yellow dandelion dress flows in the wind, and glitter moon clips decorate her dark brown hair. 

“Hello.” With the window open, you are able to reach down and shake her tiny hand. “I am a princess from a neighboring kingdom.” Her eyes light up even more than you thought possible. “It is nice to meet you.” 

“Are you going to marry Prince Xavi?” The nickname pulls a giggle from your lips, and you’re all too aware of the three sets of eyes watching the interaction. It takes everything in you not to look back at Tara for assistance or even gauge the reactions of the two men in here as well. 

“Perhaps.” It’s the best answer you can give, and as she holds your finger in her chubby hand, you see hints of Xavier’s light in her. Maybe all people of Philos have that innate brightness in them that follows them wherever they go. “I am still making my decision.” 

She giggles, holding a small jump rope in her other hand. A few other kids call out to her to come back and play. “Prince Xavi is very nice. He reads to us sometimes, and he lets us come into the palace!” 

“Does he?” You smile, seeing the children calling out to the little girl. “Well, thank you for that information, cutie. Your friends are waiting for you.” 

Her wide grin shows off all her teeth, and she nods before giving you a wave. “Bye–bye, Princess!” 

“Goodbye, cutie.” You wave as the carriage begins moving again, your head tucking back inside to face three smiling people. 

Tara raises her eyebrows, Jeremiah glances at Xavier, and the prince himself has a deep red blush stretching across his cheeks. His eyes are wide, lips parted, but as he catches your eye, he immediately looks down to his feet, his hand massaging the back of his neck as if he has a cramp or something. 

“She was adorable.” You break the silence and are met with nods of confirmation before another stop. A knock comes from the front of the stagecoach, and Xavier tries to stand, only for his head to hit the roof. 

His movements are a bit awkward. His cheeks flush red, and his eyes cast down as he opens the door and holds out a hand to you. “Welcome to my palace,” he says. 

Resting your hand in his, you step out into the sunlight, and your jaw drops. 

It is a magnificent palace, with large towers bookending the sides and one tall building in the middle. A part of you compares it to your own, knowing that yours is slightly bigger and has more intricate arrangements on the outside, but this one seems perfect for the aesthetic of the kingdom. 

“It is beautiful.” You nod as he leads you inside. Behind you, you hear Tara and Jeremiah whispering, but the weight of his hand under yours guides you in through the entrance to see the large foyer. Paintings litter the walls, and a high ceiling makes way for a chandelier with warm white light radiating from it. 

“Thank you.” His voice is gentle, not like the deep and somewhat harsh tone from when you first made his acquaintance. Though it does not sound like he is very happy with the compliment. “My father redesigned it after he took the throne.” 

There is a bitterness there, hiding beneath the surface of each syllable that forms with his lips. You don’t dare comment on it, lest some of the workers in the palace hear and relay the message. The last thing you need as the diamond of the season is a last-minute scandal. 

He takes you on a quick tour, showing you important rooms such as the ballroom and banquet hall. All the while, his hand stays in yours. His fingers wrap around your palm, and you wish that you could take the barrier of satin fabric away to feel him directly. 

The warmth of his hand in yours is a constant reminder that he is right by your side, and it brings a strange comfort to your beating heart. Being in an unknown land, with only your lady-in-waiting to confide in, is quite scary, you realize, but with his presence beside you, the scent of some musk mixed with a clean soap washing over each step you take, there is a safety in that feeling.

There is a moment of respite as a chef brings some tea and a small bite of food before you retire to your bedroom. 

The bedroom in question has two beds, one for you and one for Tara. You insisted on sharing with her just in case anything happened. It seemed comfortable from the glimpse you had before Xavier pulled you away to see another room of paintings. His family loves art, with multiple rooms dedicated to specific artists. 

“I will need to step away for just a moment.” The prince says, his hand leaving yours for the first time since you stepped off the carriage. “Excuse me.” 

The moment he is out of the dining hall, Tara steps in front of you. “He has not stopped blushing the entire tour of the palace, My Lady.” Her eyes are wide, and her smile is even wider as Jeremiah also slips out to follow his friend, leaving you both alone. “It is as if he is a lost puppy at your beck and call.” 

“I would not say that.” You shake your head, still suspicious of his intentions. Perhaps you are just being overly cautious, and perhaps your own feelings are starting to cloud your judgment. 

“Well, I would.” She laughs, her hands landing on your shoulders and shaking slightly. “Do not keep downgrading his efforts.” Her voice dips down low, trying to avoid the echo in the large room. “He has invited – no, begged – for you to visit his kingdom. Nothing he has done has given you the inkling that he is just doing this to jest with you, My Lady.” 

Her smile turns into a smirk, and your heart tightens as she leans in even more, your gloved hand gripping the teacup to avoid dropping it. “And you do not know just how he looked at you as you spoke to that adorable little girl. It was like…” She pauses, looking up as if recalling the exact moment. “Like he was imagining you with a child of your own… His child. ” 

With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you dip your head. Heat rushes through your entire body, and what is this strange feeling ? Your head is spinning, feeling a bit like you’re floating at just the thought of him looking at you like that. It overwhelms you, fills every crevice in your body until your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. 

Then everything goes black.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Voices…

They mumble and whisper around you, but you can’t discern what they are saying as your vision is clouded in darkness. 

“I do not know what happened, Your Highness.” Tara whispers, fanning your face that is damp with sweat. In one moment, you are smiling at the prospect of his affections being genuine, and the next, you are collapsing in the banquet hall. “She just fell.” 

Xavier sits on the edge of your bed, the bed he arranged for you in his palace. It’s high in a tower, overlooking his kingdom while also giving you a good glimpse of the stars, with many stairs he had to climb with your limp body in his arms. He was not letting you go, even as the palace doctor rushed in to examine you, stating that there was nothing wrong and you would be fine once you awakened. 

As you finally stir, there is a throbbing sensation in the side of your head, and an involuntary groan falls from your lips. Light pierces your eyes, and you’re met with a hand on your forehead and three people looking at you as if you are a ghost. 

“What… Happened?” You ask, your voice a bit hoarse. The sun is already beginning to dip down toward the horizon, bathing the room in a glow akin to a rising flame. 

“We are not sure, Your Highness.” Xavier is the first to answer, his hand resting on your bicep through the satin glove. “I stepped away for a few moments only to hear a noise and your lady in waiting calling for a doctor.” 

“You just collapsed.” Tara dabs at your head with a cloth, grabbing a pillow as you try and sit up. “Be careful, My Lady.” 

The prince’s gaze is intense, as if he is trying to read every single thought that is running through your head. At the moment, it’s not much. 

“Oh.” It’s all you can muster, but your energy already seems to be coming back to you as you look around at the worried expressions. The intense pain in your head lulls into a gentle throbbing, and you find your voice in the back of your throat. “I will be fine… It was just a little fall.” 

“Please listen to her, Your Highness.” Xavier’s deep voice cuts through the air in the room, sucking it out until you can barely breathe. It’s like he is back to the stoic and emotionless man he was in the garden weeks ago. “I do not wish to have to carry your limp body again.” 

He carried you ? Tara is silent as you look to her, but there is a hint of a smile that confirms his words.

“So you wish to carry my alert body?” Even in your weakened state, you force a laugh at the joke. It’s just a small tease, but the rosy blush on the tips of his ears, as well as the way his eyes flicker down to his hand on your arm, gives away his nerves. 

“Of course.” It’s the only thing he can say without stuttering, but even then, there is an almost imperceptible hitch at the end of those two words. 

The prince clears his throat, tearing his gaze away from you to Tara and Jeremiah, who are gathered around your bedside. “May I have a private word with the Princess?” It’s the first time he has addressed you as ‘princess’ and not ‘Your Highness’, the title sounding even sweeter coming from his lips.

His request is met with nods of confirmation. Tara finishes wiping the sweat from your brow before giving you a wink and following Jeremiah out of the room. 

Then, silence.

He is not speaking, but his thumb begins to stroke the side of your arm. Even through the satin glove, you feel his warmth. It’s then that you hear his ragged breathing, his flushed cheeks, and the slight pause before he speaks again. 

“You worried me.” 

It is the most straightforward he’s been, and in the depths of his blue eyes, you feel the sincerity in every syllable that is punctuated by a graze of his thumb on your wrist. His eyes travel across every one of your features, memorizing them as if you would disappear. 

“I am sorry.” You respond, and you mean it. The influx of emotions that overwhelmed you came to a point that your heart could not take. Maybe it was the true realization that you wanted him, or maybe it was the fear that he might not want you in the same way. But it all culminated when Tara gave you an outsider’s perspective that you actually chose to believe. 

“Do not apologize.” Another short sentence, but he follows it with a deep breath. “I was going to ask if you would like to go see the stars tonight.” A breathy chuckle leaves his lips, along with a hint of a smile that you know is completely genuine.

“You can still ask.” 

“But–”

“I. am. fine.” In a bold move, you reach out to wrap your hand around his wrist, tilting your head and giving him the same smile that you did the night of the ball. “Ask me.” 

He relaxes at that. “Alright.” His fingers release your wrist, turning instead to grip at your other hand as if it is his lifeline. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me to get a glimpse of the stars tonight?” 

His formality causes a giggle in your throat. Energy seeps into you from just being around him, and despite the slight throb in your temple, you dance your gloved fingers across his palm. 

“I would love to, Prince Xavier.” He helps you sit up further, and your eye catches the setting sun in one of the many windows. “Where are we going?”

“I know of a salt flat not far from the palace.” His voice is back to soothing and gentle, like knowing you're okay is bringing about peace in him. “I can bring a blanket, and we may sit and watch the sky.” 

“Should we depart soon, then?” It’s exciting, going on an outing such as this. Back at your palace, it is all flatland with little forests to create the aesthetic and mystery of the unknown. Though your kingdom is beautiful, there is a certain intrigue in the difference. 

“If that is alright with you.” He stands, holding onto your hand and helping you up as well. For a moment, he observes you, the way the moonlight trickles in and creates shadows that dance along the walls. As soon as he is sure you aren’t going to fall again, he moves to drop his hand from yours. 

You catch it.

The hesitance with which he touches you is disheartening. At some points, he is holding your hand as he shows you his palace, and the next, he is keeping his distance. So you force yourself to be bolder, your hand finding his once again. You hold it as if you were new lovers, an awkward grip that causes both of you to direct your eyes to the ground. 

“I need you to lead me there.” You whisper, your voice unable to reach higher as you revel in the way he holds tight. 

“Very well, Your Highness.” The dulcet tone of his voice strikes deep within you, and you wonder if he will ever cross the threshold into more than just the impersonal formality. “Follow me.” 

With his hand in yours, he keeps a close eye on you as he pushes open the door to your room. On the other side, Tara and Jeremiah are gathered together, their heads nearly touching. Both of them straighten up, head turning to face you.

“My Lady, are you okay?” Tara rushes over but is stopped by your hand.

“I am okay, Tara.” And it is true. Despite the slight headache and the lack of energy, you feel otherwise fine. “Truly.” She backs off a bit at the insistence, nodding and looking between you and Xavier. 

Xavier exchanges a look with Jeremiah. “We are going to take a stroll to see the stars.” Your hand leaves his, sliding up his bicep and nestling in the crook of his elbow. He tries to say something else, but the words are stuck, his face colored red. 

“I will not need your accompaniment.” It’s said as a whisper, but it feels as if you have shouted it to the heavens. “I do not believe we will be long.” 

Tara tries to keep her composure, but it looks as if she is going to burst at the seams. Looking back at Jeremiah, she is met with an almost matching smile and nod, and she takes a step back. “Very well, My Lady.” There is a warmth in her gaze, and you think about how grateful you are to her for always being by your side. “I will be waiting in the chambers for your return.” 

Xavier looks over at you, an eyebrow raised. “Are you ready, Your Highness?” With your nod as confirmation, he takes a blanket from a closet down the hall and leads you out of the palace and down a winding stone walkway. 

The forest is beautiful, you think as you take in the sights. Large trees line the small road along which you are strolling. He leaves you in silence, his steps measured and controlled. There are a few moments of tension as your hand grips tighter to his arm, wanting some sort of contact so you don’t lose him in the brush. 

“Wow.” The breath is stolen from your lungs when you walk into the clearing. 

A circle of trees makes way for a floor of grass. It’s big enough to frolic and run around in but not enough to seem vast and endless. A sanctuary in the middle of everything, where you can get away and enjoy the night. 

Up above, the stars shine bright in the sky, and you must admit that it is a stunning sight to be able to sit down beneath the vast universe and not feel its crushing weight. So many twinkling lights, and yet the darkness still seeps between the cracks.

The air is cool, brushing against your bare arms as Xavier spreads out the blanket. His shoulders flex, and it takes you a moment to realize you're staring, appreciating the light flush of pink on his ears that descends down his neck and to the apples of his cheeks. 

A hand reaching out pulls you back to reality, and despite the cold air whipping around you, a warm hearth sparks inside you. Accepting the hand, you discard your heels and cross your legs under your dress, the silky fabric soothing you from the biting wind. 

“It is beautiful, is it not?” His voice is somewhat between awe and indifference, his eyes reflecting the twinkling lights up above. You can’t force yourself to follow his gaze, too stuck on the man in front of you who is such a damned enigma that you truly can’t figure him out. 

“Yes…” You whisper, your stare never wavering. 

His eyes stay glued onto the stars, and while you admit they are beautiful from your periphery, there are much better things to see on the ground. Several minutes pass, his body heat radiating from him like a fireplace while you shiver at the slightest of breezes that ruffle the blanket by your bottom.

As if he senses your eyes on him, he turns to look, taken aback by the proximity. Leaning onto his palms, he puts just a bit of distance between you, his attention back on the sky. 

“That one is my f–” 

“What are we doing here, Your Highness?” Your legs curl under yourself, anger suddenly coursing through you at his dismissal of nearly everything you say. He is so mysterious, so emotionless, that you think at times it is impossible that he even has a heart. 

“What do you mean?” There it is. A semblance of disappointment as he furrows his brows. “I mean,” you stand, your bare feet exposed to the chilly air, “you are indifferent to me. Why have you even taken the time out of your busy life to travel to my kingdom and participate in the marriage season if you are not looking for someone’s hand?” 

Xavier stands as well, caught off guard by the sudden outburst. “How are you so sure that I am not there for someone’s hand?” 

A pause, and your nose scrunches up in annoyance and even more anger. How dare he act so calm about this? His soft tone of voice sinks into your skin, telling you that he’s sincere, but you’ve believed it too many times. Never again will you get your hopes up that he’s changing, that he’s giving you what you need in the hunt for your hand. 

“You have not spoken to anyone!” Your voice carries across the cosmos. “Besides me and your gentleman friend, I have not heard a word uttered to anyone else.” 

“I have spoken to the Queen.” His short sentence only infuriates you more, your eyes beginning to well up with tears of frustration. 

“Fine. If you are to be that way, then–”

“I have not spoken to anyone because I do not have the desire to speak to anyone.” The words drip from his lips as if just speaking them into existence is painful. His cheeks are red, the tip of his nose akin to a cherry as he takes a step forward. With a shaky breath, his eyes widen just enough to take in your crossed arms and the emotion swelling in your eyes. 

“Years.” He starts. “I have watched you from afar for years. Your grace. Your beauty. Your intellect. All of it has haunted me at those meetings. I have hung off of every word that has come from your pretty lips, gripping at each syllable as if I were listening to my favorite piece of music. Your voice sings me a symphony that I wish to play on repeat until the day I draw my last breath.” 

Your heart is in your throat, eyes wide, and lips parted slightly at his outburst. It is unlike him to lash out like this, and the frantic look in his normally peaceful eyes is alarming. 

“I have spent hours mapping out the contours of your face, so much so that should you give me a pen and paper, I would be able to draw you from memory, and it still would not hold a candle to how beautiful you are in front of me right now. At times, it was hard to believe you were not an angel sent from the heavens above to show the masses what true perfection looks like. But I am also selfish, and I want you to myself. I know which seat you prefer around the table of elders, and when given the floor to boast about your kingdom’s achievements, I can recite every pride-filled word you have said.” He takes one more step forward, waiting for you to push him away, but you don’t.

“What of your betrothe–” 

“She is nothing to me.” He clenches his teeth, sucking in a breath as if to compose himself. “A ploy sent my way to appease factions in this wretched kingdom while seducing me into a sense of autonomy. But with all the paths laid before me, I realize there is no other option. They all lead to you.” 

“I know I have not been the most cordial of your suitors.” Just the mention of the other men has him swallowing the lump in his throat. “I know that my dear friend, Prince Sylus, has caught your attention as well. I have flaws…” There is a furrow on his brow as he fights with himself. “I may not show it, but my heart has never been at rest since I first laid eyes on you so many moons ago. It yearns for you. I yearn for you .” 

Another step.

Then another. 

One more and he is right in front of you. 

Your vision is full of him. Of the way his eyes twinkle, of the rosy tinge in his cheeks, of his warm breath that comes out in pants. He seems almost feral, a need to speak like a dog has the need to bark at intruders. 

“You will lose your title. Your kingdom.” You reason, wanting to make sure he knows the ramifications of his decision. “I will become Queen of Linkon, and you will be my Prince Consort. You will not even be a King in the eyes of the kingdom.” Breaths mingle together in a tornado of intensity that feel as though you will fall over at any instant. 

He is speaking right as you finish your sentence, as if he had been waiting for that excuse. “I will gladly bestow my title to someone else. I have no need for this crown, and the people will not have to miss me often as I will be visiting my dear friend Jeremiah for his coronation as next Crown Prince.” 

“I only have need for you. In this vast nothingness of space, I want nothing more than to be by your side to the very end. I would face death with a smile if it means that you will be waiting for me at the steps of heaven.” He takes another breath, his hand reaching out, hovering over your hip. “I remember you speaking of the atoms that make up the stars being the same we are made of. Nothing would make me happier than knowing we are from the same star.” 

There is a beat of silence, and all you can hear is your ragged breathing and the steady thrum of your heart in your ears. His hand hovers so close, and your eyes flicker from his speckled blue irises to his pink lips. 

“Ever since I was a child, I was raised to fight.” Pleas weep from his words, drowning you in your own feelings. “No emotions, just the heavy metal of my blade connecting with everything in sight. I did not know how to use my heart for anything other than to keep me alive. Though I do not want anything except for you to breathe life into me.” His sentences are slower, as if soaking in the emotions for himself. 

“I am sorry for the sorrow I have caused you. Jeremiah’s courting lessons were lackluster, and after hearing the way Prince Sylus spoke to you, I was sure you would pick him.” His own eyes drift down to your tongue that pokes out to wet your bottom lip. “That still may be the case but… I wished on a shooting star moments ago that I would gather the courage to speak about everything going on in my heart and my brain.” 

“Your Highness?” Your voice cuts through the tense air. Unsure of what else to say, your hands shakily sit on his shoulders. 

“I…” Another pause, eyes closing for a mere moment before finding yours again. “I want to fight for you. To court you properly. It is hard to ignore the way I was brought up, but I wish to change for you. I wish to fight for you, just as I have these past few weeks, and to show you what true emotion feels like at the hands of someone who cares.” He’s almost pleading, and if you had told him to get down on his knees, he would gladly drop like a pin.

He takes another breath, dropping his arm back down to his side. “Do not tell me your decision tonight. Spare me the fantasy of just one last sleep that I may hold you in my dreams and not be reminded of the harsh reality when I awake. But please understand I am true in my intentions. I came to your kingdom to ask for your hand in marriage despite the objections of my father. I want you, Your Highness.” 

You don’t say anything, caught swimming in the ocean of his eyes, as even the trees grow silent. Nothing will come out, and you just force yourself to nod, too taken back by his sudden burst of emotion and sincere words to form thoughts of your own. 

“Let us head back, Your Highness. I am sure our chaperones must be anticipating our return.” His tone is much softer, the deep timbre still there but lined with a vulnerability you have not seen from him before. Before you can walk away, he steps in front of you, holding out his arm after gathering the blanket in the other. 

It is not often you are rendered speechless like this, the clicking of your heels and rushing intensity of the wind a backtrack to the synced beating of your hearts. His arm is bent into a perfect rest for your gloved hand, and you imagine him leading you down the halls of your palace after your wedding ceremony. 

As soon as you are back in the palace, your headache subsides into near nothingness. You are greeted with Tara’s concerned face. It is as if she senses your change in demeanor. Her arm wraps around you, bringing you toward your chambers. 

“Your Highness,” Xavier calls out, and when you turn to meet his eyes, a spark of electricity shoots through you. You see the subtle nuances of his jaw as he smiles, the crinkle of the corners of his eyes… “Good night. I shall see you in the morning.” 

“Good night.” You bow, your waist still supported by your lady-in-waiting. Shaky legs bring you to your bed, and you refuse to tell Tara anything that happened except for the muttered excuse that you are okay. 

That night, you dream of an extravagant wedding. 

Of course, your parents would put on only the best wedding for their daughter. With decorations throughout the entire palace, extending out toward the streets, the people of the kingdom cheer and celebrate with glee at the emergence of their new Queen. 

Your crown weighs heavy on your head, knowing that you will be shouldering the responsibility of your kingdom. Should anything happen, it will all be either your downfall or your golden opportunity. 

People cheer, waving and jumping at the front of the palace as you walk out to greet them. Your heart is a steady beat, and although the nerves begin to creep up at your feet, a steady hand wraps around your waist. 

“You are going to be an amazing Queen, my love.” Xavier looks over at you, letting you bask in the limelight. 

You wake up before you can share a kiss.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

After an awkward carriage ride and a million questions by your parents on what transpired, you’re tired of answering. The confinements of your room are enough to satisfy you for the time being, along with the heavy weighted decision. Your mother made it clear you did not have to choose this season, yet what if you didn't? The thought of Xavier going and finding someone else threatens to break your heart in two. 

There it is…

“Are you ready, My Lady?” Tara puts the finishing touches on your tiara, pinning it to your hair to make sure it doesn’t fall off. “This is the end of the season.” 

“I know my mother told me I do not have to choose, that I may wait until next season…” You trail off, turning around as soon as she steps back. “But I think I am confident in my decision.” 

“Really?” Her sly smile creeps back onto her face. “And am I right to assume it is one of the two very eligible bachelors from Tarus or Philos?” 

Your smile gives you away, and she grabs your wrists and shakes them. “Oh my goodness! I always wondered what went on in that forest…” 

“Oh, stop it.” The way your eyes cast downward to your heels, the fabric of your dress kissing the tops of your feet. “I understand what my mother said about love, that it is very subtle. I have not felt anything like it, and I do not want to let the opportunity slip through my fingers.” 

As if she were the one getting married, she lightly tugs you out to the garden. Many sets of eyes stare at you, and Tara leans closer, her voice just a whisper. “Go to your husband, My Lady.” 

You see him before he sees you. His suit jacket is nearly the color of the sky that night in the forest, with specks of diamonds littered along the seams.

All your life, you thought of this moment as one filled with nerves, and when you were named the diamond of the season, it only skyrocketed your anxiety to new levels. However, despite the hardships of battling emotion and logic, one look at him, and you could feel your heart settle in your chest. 

A soft tap on his shoulder causes him to turn around, cheeks flaming instantly as soon as he meets your eye. With his hands glued to his sides, he bows, only for you to stop him with a hand on his bicep. 

“You do not have to bow, Prince Xavier.” It’s the first time in a while you have said his name, and he thinks he might pass out, and when you smile… wow . His lips curl up into a matching smile, and the warmth that blossoms in your heart is more beautiful than any sparkling star in the sky. 

He watches as you slip your satin glove off your hand, extending it out to him in an invitation. “If you still wish for my hand, then take it. It is yours, just as I wish to be yours.” 

There is a moment of silence, his eyes focused on the lines of your palm that are oh so inviting to him. Time seems to stop, and you think for a split second that he was not sincere, that the forest meant nothing to him. But before you can rescind your offer, you hear a soft release of breath. 

Prince Xavier takes your hand.

© starsforxavi

[notvenomsnake]

Back To Us

parings: Leon S. Kennedy (damnation) x fem reader!

tags: Smut, dry humping, oral (f! receiving), fingering (f!), mention of m! and f! masturbation, unprotected pnv, make out sessions, nicknames such as: princess and baby, a bit of foot rubbing on leg and crotch, Leon being such a dick/tease in bed, creampie.

summary: Leon is a cheater that ended this whole marriage. You guys have a daughter. Meeting up at a restaurant for a ‘catch up’ even though it’s for the sake of your daughter but things go somewhere you weren’t expecting…

a/n: this is my first ever post and first time writing about smut. I was thinking about this in head so i decided to write a fanfic on it. Let me know what you think! so i can might make more

(for later on into the story)

w.c: idk it’s a lot (sorry for grammar mistakes, i was rushing this)

5 months pregnant and a loving husband is such a great life to live when you were about to have a family with the love of your life but catching your husband in another woman’s cunt was the last thing you expected from him.

Looks like he had it planned it out since there was two glass cups on the counter and the fancies ones. You did notice there was a lipstick stain on the rim of one of the glass cup. But you just thought it was yours and the dishwasher didn’t wash it good. The moans of a woman helped you navigate the way to the scene upon you.

She was the coworker he told you not to worry about, how naive were you to actually believe that shit? I guess you were since you were greeted with that scene coming back from work earlier than usual. You regret saying ‘fuck you’ to him as you were going to see him in court in a few days for the future of baby’s custody.

A few years later…

Birds chirping and voices outside the apartment complex. You were woken up to your daughter shaking your body as she begged for breakfast. “What time was it…?” You mumbled, your throat was dry probably from picking up your daughter in the pouring rain with just a light sweater that you later gave to your daughter since she was cold and only brought a long sleeve.

11:48am It read on the red led lights flickering on the digital clock, you need to buy a new clock soon with your paycheck.

You made your iconic breakfast burrito for your and your daughter as she sat up in a high chair near the counter, she blabbers about school but one thing caught your attention. A day she calls ‘catch up day’ when did that exist? What the hell are teachers teaching these days, a day of parents hanging out with their kid sounds like blast to a child but not to an exhausting adult who’s ex husband is at least months late of child support.

“Sweetie, you know i’m very busy today.” A lie that can be easily seen. Even your 5 year old child knows. “It’s Saturday.” She barked back, since it when were 5 year olds so sassy. Probably learned it at her dad’s place this weekday. You hissed through your teeth. Of course you forgot it’s a weekend. Great. Now you have to do this stupid thing, you bet Leon doesn’t even want to—

“Dad said he’ll go.” Really? No way in hell he wanted to go to this stupid ‘catch up day’ or whatever it called. “Guess i’ll go too…” You wanted to launch yourself to the window, you have to deal with his ass again.

I mean it had been years since you seen him, maybe his muscles were bigger—You have to stop yourself, and think…are you actually going to this stupid thing. Yes, yes you are.

Now you’re stressing over a simple thing, a stupid dress. I mean you haven’t been this stressed since losing your daughter at Toys’R’Us. Red or Red wine, they look about the same but when you wear it, it’s shows the difference. You hear yelling and rambling about dragons and princesses. She burst into the room holding her two plushies as you can guess, a dragon and princess. Leon always spoils her with too much things even with that Barbie playhouse, that costs around what you can make in a day. “Can you please play outside.” You were most stressed as you pinched the bridge of your nose to ease the pain of this headache. “Also where’s that dress I put on your bed?” She shrugs as you sighed and go over to her room to see it laying on the ground. Another hour to get her ready. Her whining and pouting weren’t helping in her case. You only had time to do pigtails on her as her hair was all tangled and she kept complaining about it hurting. She quickly got off her bed and ran around.

5:40pm Almost 2 hours to get on her dress and do her hair?! damn, toddlers are hard work.

Back to the dresses. You walk back to your room. They’re dirty…? You hear giggling. Are you serious?! She spilled her juice all over it, it’s your fault. You probably didn’t close it right. You hated being a single mother sometimes. You wanted a vacation with a piña colada next to you with the beach breeze running through out your body. Too bad.

You digged deeper in your closet to find an old dress you having worn in a long time. The brand was known for being cheap, hm maybe it won’t hurt to try it on. It fills all the empty spaces you didn’t fill up back when you were 18. The only thing you hated was the slit part near your leg. It you were to lift your leg high enough someone could see your panties, they were not those sexy lingerie types but a plain design with Snoopy on the front, childish right? It was ether that or a thong, No way in hell. You had to do laundry soon enough.

At least the dress was a type of red color more like a dark red…Just hated the slit. It’s the only dress you got. The red bottom heals matched perfectly, I guess your daughter did help you out.

7:17pm…”Shit. we gotta go now.” You muttered seeing the time.

You buckled her sit in the car with the baby carrier which she called ‘too baby’ would she rather fly out during a car crash or stay safe and sound. You give her the tablet that you got her for christmas. Music was playing on the radio while being in the background ‘Dreams’ (2004 version) by Fleetwood Mac, great song but it didn’t help that a toddler was whining in the backseat complaining about the wifi and why her video isn’t loading. A long peaceful car drive turned into an annoying one. The gps made it worse as it kept giving you the wrong turns.

8:00pm sharp.

You finally made it after around 40 minutes of traffic, wrong turns and a whiny child. You see the bright ass led lights that showed the restaurant’s logo glowing along other buildings. The parking lot was packed, you saw families getting out of the car. Maybe that would be you and leon’s life if he didn’t cheat on you. Thats reminds you, that leon could be there waiting since the reservation was at 8:00.

You and your daughter entered the restaurant as the front desk staff asked for your name. Then they guided you to the table, Leon was sipping on alcohol already. His gaze went to his alcohol to his daughter as he greeted her first. He then looked up at you, up and down. Was that a good or bad thing in this situation of not seeing each other in year…

“It’s nice to finally see you, Y/N” His voice gave you shivers through out your body. “Uh…you too.” What was that type of response?! You sat across from him as your guy’s daughter had a high chair, being at the middle of table, between you two. He chuckled, the one that made you more wet as he thrusted more into you. To be honest with yourself, you used your vibrator while thinking of him as you arched your back on your bed whiling stuttering on his name.

The rest of the night went great, he was friendly…? Was it a trick or not but you didn’t care as you were drunk. As for your daughter, she went sleep.

“You gotten more cuter” You say as you clearly drunk and hiccuping. “Yeah?~ You have gotten so much more hotter, princess.” His response made your panties damp. He can see right through you. The tension between him and you was very strong. You make the first, you caress his leg with your heel which makes him stutter mid sentence. You were greeted with a sly smile of his the one he made when he was on the same page as you. “Like I was saying…” He continued rambling on as he had a grip on your leg as he guided it up to his crotch. A small moan escaped his lips.

“You aren’t gonna come in your pants are you?” You teased as he chuckled once again. “Well depends…are you gonna make me come, baby?~” That pet name was such a blessing hearing from him. But to answer his question, Yes. Yes you will, but not in public. “Maybe somewhere else…” You replied pushing what feels like the head of his cock back as he grunts.

“Yeah? Cause I would really love to see those soaked panties of yours right now as I suck that pussy’s living shit out of you.” So he did see the slit in your dress, he’s always so blunt and straight, was this really the guy that cheated on you…maybe you can forgive him…

You called your mother to pick up your guy’s daughter as you used ‘sick’ as an excuse. After she left, Leon and you took an Uber to his place because you two know damn well you would suck his dick as he drove to his place. The tension was soaring through the roof. Just looking into each other’s eyes was even making you wet and him, harder. When the Uber driver dropped you guys, their face was a bit confused that Leon grabbed your wrist and dashed out of the car.

Leon open the front door of his house and leaned you against the wall as he kissed you, all sloppy and dirty. Moans came out of you as he whispered “Yeah, you missed a fucking cheater like me, baby~?” He palms your sex which makes you squirm under his touch. “Y-Yes…god yes~ j-just fuck me…~” Left your mouth as he was a cruel man. “No. Not yet you needy thing.” His fingers wonder into the bottom of your dress, into your panties as he started trailing his kisses down to your neck. “Wanna see those perky tits” He said practically ripping your dress not like it’s worth a lot…He unclasped your bra and throws it away just like what he did with your ripped up dress.

He takes on your hard nipples in his mouth as he curled his fingers in you. “L-Leon!~” Was all that escaped your mouth. You were drunk as well so what else are you gonna do? “Don’t come yet, baby~ I gotta suck that pussy soon.” He grabbed you like as your light as a feather and threw you onto his bed. He couldn’t control himself before humping you like a dog in heat. His cock was so hard you could practically feel it. You hump back, you’re so desperate for release that you moan over some friction.

Looks like he planned this too, the music was on point, ‘redbone’ was playing in the background As The Smiths were playing earlier on.

“You don’t even remember how my tongue feels like right?~ Been so long since I took care of that little tight pussy” He teased before looking at your childish panties, he chuckles before pulling them down not even half way before slamming his head in between your thighs eating you out like a starving man. “Think about this pretty pink pussy while jerking myself off” This made you arch your back more, it’s like you’re seeing stars, his touch and mouth was a work of magic. The way his tongue lapped around your pussy and he rubbed your clit before digging his tongue deep inside making the room echo your moans for more. He pumped his two fingers in, curling them and taking down to you

“What a horny fucking girl, bet you can’t even touch yourself without thinking of me.” He smirked in between your legs as he continued. You comed around 2 times, he latched off your clit and withdrawal his finger before licking them up.

He pulled only unzips his flyer of his pants and he takes out his dick. The head is an angry red color, the pre-come is licking so my much on his tip. He lifts your chin up before sucking your tits again as he praised your body. “So perfect, so fucking perfect, can’t wait to feel my cock in between this tight pussy.” He smacked your pussy before jerking himself off a bit as he got his pre-cum onto his dick and without any warning he puts it in you. You yelp without any warning “M-missed you…” You say as you barely said and words just moans. He knows it’s caused your drunk but he gets more turned on by this.

Just the half of his cock is in you, not moving as he replies with “You missed me or my cock? Cause I been in so many woman after you. But you’re the best, baby.” The way his words rolled out his tongue made you moan out his name. He then apologized and says “i missed y-you too, princess.” He thrust all his length in you as you rolled your head and eyes back. Your mouth created a ‘o’ shape as you tugged on his used to be dirty blonde hair now it’s more dark than ever.

“Yeah, moan my fucking name” Such a cruel man but god this feels good. His dick is so big and thick it’s like a treat from heaven, his dirty mouth makes it even better. “H-harder~” You moan out. His response was smirk and chuckle. “Anything for you, baby.” He goes harder and faster reaching your cervix which makes you squirm and arch your back, begging for more and more. Your breast bounces up and down as he grips on one of them so hard. You scratched and dig your nails into his back so badly by how much your head was banging the headboard of the bed.

Thrust

“Feels-“

Thrust

“So-“

Thrust

“F-fucking good.”

The thrusting got more harder and faster. “Come with me, baby” He begged as his thrust got more faster and sloppier. You dig your nails into his nails as You just nod and come on his dick. Walks clenched around him. You could feel his big load coming inside you as you rides his climax, thrusting sloppy and slowly. He pulls out which makes a ‘pop!’ lewd sound echoing around the room, his come and yours mused together as it drips out of you before he grabs a handful of the leaking fluid and pushing it back into your swollen cunt. “Might end up paying child support for this other kid” He chucked…his corny one liners. He was a cheater and your ex husband but what could you say? He’s good at fucking the brains out of you.

@notvemonsnake!!

hope you enjoy it! let me know if you guys have any suggestions or tips about it!

[boneapplet]

From Rust and Bone pt.5

Chronicles of the Lost Primarch

Relationship: Rogal Dorn x oc/afab!reader

Warnings: recovering from an injury

Word Count: 1593

Requested tag:@noncon-photobomb @beckyninja

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5

As dawn comes, the first rays of sunlight filter through the jagged edge of the ridge, turning the vent mist a deep ochre. Wind slides through the gaps in the stone with a sigh. Dorn is still sitting by the cave mouth, wrapped in the old beast-pelt cloak, eyes open, but not focused. He’s been there since last night. Through the wind shifts. Through Arravox’s humming fading into silence. He didn’t sleep, didn’t move much either. Simply watching, listening as if the world might shift in those dark hours and he’d be the only one to witness it.

Body aching—not the sharp, surgical kind. But the dull marrow-throb of a man pushing beyond what he’s rebuilt, shifting to stand. Instinctively, he reaches out with his left hand—toward the rock wall, toward the crate he’d leaned on before, to steady himself. There’s nothing there. Sometimes, he forgets. He doesn’t curse, doesn’t sigh. Taking a moment before he takes a breath. Then he reaches again with the hand he still has. Grips the crate. Rises, slowly, spine cracking as it unfolds. Dust clings to his knees, the hem of the cloak. That’s how Kessa finds him.

Emerging from the rear cavern, hair tied back, already in her patchwork jacket, rubbing sleep from her eyes. Blinks at the sight of him still upright, still on guard.

“Did you sleep at all?”

He doesn’t answer, though that’s answer enough for her. Walking over, she studies his posture. The tightness in his jaw, the sunken hollows under his eyes.

“Alright,” she says finally. “Come eat. You’re done being heroic.”

She doesn’t wait for protest—just turns and heads toward the stew pot, already simmering on the low burner near the ventstone. Dorn watches her go; he doesn’t move at first. Giving the land beyond the cave a look over before following. Not because he’s told to but because for the first time in years, he’s beginning to understand what it means to be needed, not just obeyed.

               Taking a seat by the vent stove while she ladles out the stew—root-heavy, flecked with cured meat and something green that smells vaguely like licorice and ash. She passes him the bowl and a spoon.

“Go slow,” she warns.

“I remember.”

Still, he’s hungry. He grips the spoon, a little too tight, scoops up a mouthful. The heat of it hits first—comforting. The taste is stronger than the broth he remembers. More texture. More weight. His body leans toward it. The first bite goes down fine. The second bites back—sits heavy in his gut like a stone. By the third, his throat tightens. Jaw clenches. Muscles lock. His body, still half starved, not ready for real food, begins to reject it. Setting the spoon down carefully, his hand trembling. He leans forward, not retching—just stilling the surge of nausea, breathing in shallow, silent pulls. Kessa doesn’t rush to help, she just waits, calm, arms folded.

“Told you, “She murmurs. “Drip-fed ghosts can’t eat like warriors.”

He doesn’t look up right away, just stares into the bowl. Frustration wells up behind his ribs—cold and humbling. He survived gods, guns, heresy. But now, he’s losing to a bowl of stew.

“How long before it gets easier?”

“Depends how stubborn you are,” she says. “Eat slivers. Chew more than you think you need. Don’t rush.”

“I don’t like being fragile.”

“You’re not. You’re recovering. Difference is in the direction.”

He snorts, barely. Then picks up the spoon back up and tries again. While he doesn’t finish the bowl, he at least ate more than yesterday. She calls that a win. Still, when he stands, shoulder stiff and spine bent from the long night sitting vigil, she frowns at him like she might hit him with the spoon.

“Go lie down.”

“There’s work to do.”

“And you’ll do it wrong if you collapse. Cot. Now.”

“Are you always this kind to your invalids?”

“No. Just the stubborn ones.”

He gives her a look. Something almost like a smirk. But it fades quick. Eventually, he listens. Heading to the bed resting in the nook. This time, sleep takes him fast and deep—no reaching, no ghosts, no phantom limbs. Just stillness.

The air smells like sulfur and salted hides when he stirs. Late morning. Warmer. Light from the vents streaks across the ceiling. He doesn’t rush, sitting up and stretching the stiffness from his back before he rises. Outside the chamber, Kessa is already working. He hears the rhythmic sound of harness rings being sorted, chain straps checked and oiled. The quiet huff of Arravox repositioning nearby. He doesn’t announce himself. Stepping up beside her, he takes one of the cracked tack pieces from the pile and begins untangling it.

She glances once. Doesn’t comment. Just hands him the oil cloth. They work in rhythm. No fanfare. No orders. Just… a pair of hands—one whole, one not—easing a life forward together. Their shared silence being broken by low vibrations. A rumbling that rolls through the stone like breath through a sleeping god.

He cautiously heads to the cave mouth, hand on the frame for balance. Below the rise, in the valley, large beasts were gathering. Towering creatures, muscle-backed and spike-ridged, shifting in slow, instinctive patterns. Their shaggy hides ripple as they grunt and snort, herding themselves into loose formations, eyes blinking slowly in the sulfurous light. Kessa comes to stand beside him, arms crossed, chewing a piece of dried root.

“They feel it,” she says.

“The season?”

“Yeah. Cold pushes them down into the grave-canyons. Same path every year, but they don’t always make it. Storms cut them off. Or scrappers hit them for meat.”

She glances at him.

“I go with them partway. Make sure the young don’t get lost. Trade with the cliff folks if I can.”

Taking a moment before saying “I could use another set of hands.”

Dorn doesn’t answer right away. He watches the beasts lumber forward, driven by instinct and survival and the deep cycles of this harsh world.

“You’d trust me to help?”

“You’re already helping,” she replies. “This is just… bigger.”

               They move onto repairing the emergency door at the cave’s mouth. Preparing to seal their makeshift home shut till their return. He braces parts while she hammers them. He

“You’ve got an eye for structure,” she says.

“I built fortresses that outlived suns,” he replies.

“Cool. You can build a door now.”

               Dorn finds himself looking out towards where he can barely see the herd grazing.

“They’ll be passing through the narrows soon,” Kessa says, watching them. “We’ll need to scout ahead. Check the cliffs, make sure nothing’s collapsed.”

Dorn nods, “I’ll be ready.”

“Alright then,” she says. “I’ll prep a saddle for you. I don’t feel like hauling you again.”

He smirks, just barely “I’d rather not be hauled.”

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

Outside the cave mouth, the light sharpens. The air carries a scent that makes Kessa’s jaw tighten—mineraled heat, distant chemical bloom from the lower vents. The first sign that the season’s truly shifting. The beasts don’t wait for comfort. They move when the ground starts to breathe wrong.

Kessa’s already begun sorting the gear when Dorn joins her: saddles, water casks, tarp-sealed crates, bridle chains, and the all-important caustic wraps for the exposed skin of packbeasts. He doesn’t speak, getting straight to patching the last of the wiring along the internal rim of the door She watches him for a beat.

“Didn’t think you’d be up this quick.”

“Didn’t think you’d leave the harnesses in a pile.”

She snorts at his response. The work is brutal in its own quiet way—leather hard from last season’s rains, buckles rusted, oils congealed in the cold. But they move through it with the same rhythm they’d used with the stew and the cradle before it: try, pause, adjust, continue.

“You ever done a migration?” she questions him.

“Not like this.”

“Herd’s half-feral. Terrain shifts after the second ridge. You fall behind; the rains will strip your skin before you find cover.”

“Then I won’t fall behind.”

She gives him a long look. Not challenging—just reading him.

“You’ll ride with Arravox. He remembers you. It’ll help.”

He nods. Quiet as he oils the cinch buckles, checks for splits in the belly straps. One-handed, but deft. Learning how to be useful again. Not as a warrior. As a person. They work until noon, when the light gets thin, and the sulfur haze starts crawling up from the basin.

“We’ll need to leave in two days,” she says.

“Enough time to get everything ready?”

“If you keep helping.”

"Then we’ll be ready.”

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

Morning breaks with sulfur wind and the low grumbling of the herd in their holding pit. The beasts sense it before humans do—the shift in air pressure, the roll of toxins through vents deep below. Something in the earth is moving. The land is about to change. By now, Dorn works beside Kessa like he’s always belonged there. She doesn’t explain everything anymore, just passes tools, gestures, trusts him to know.

They test-pack the gear: dried food, medkits, cloth bundles sealed in acid-proof wrap, bundles of arrow-spine bark for fire starting. He secures the crate latches, tests the sled harness tension by leaning his weight back against the chain loop. Arravox hums low as they fit his massive saddle frame—multiple rigs, side-load bindings, ventcloth covering for his neck ridges.

“He’ll carry the heavy load,” Kessa says, tightening the straps. “Keep him calm if the wind cuts sharp.”

“Will he listen to me?” Dorn questions as he finishes prepping the gear.

“He’s already listening.”

Every time Dorn comes near, the beast shifts its head, tracking him, slow and deliberate. Mounting the large beast was a bit of a hassle, noticing the struggle Arravox shifts his leg aiding Dorn by giving him a step to utilize. Patting the large reptilian to show his appreciation before he latches the safety hooks onto his belt.

Kessa pulls up alongside him on a much smaller reptilian, while it resembled Arravox, this one had muted warm tones that blend it in better with the stone mountain side.

“Lets go” with those two words, she rides off ahead with him following suit.

At midday, they stop to eat under an overhang. She hands him a chunk of baked root wrapped in soft hide. He takes it without question, chewing slowly, not gagging this time.

“Getting better,” she says, watching.

“Still dry as gravel.”

“It’s protein gravel. Count your blessings.”

He grunts, still chewing though it’s easier now. Food is becoming a part of him again. So is this place. Parting to catch back up with the herd once they’ve eaten. The ride was silent all the way till the sun began to lower.

The herd sleeps lightly, clustered near the stone wall where runoff won’t pool if the rain starts early. Arravox lies farther off, tail tucked, humming a slow, low rhythm like a breathing song. Dorn sits near the fire pit, watching the wind pull through the vent grass. Kessa joins him, cloak drawn tight, dropping a few root peels into the burner to keep the smoke low and bitter—it wards off the smaller critters. They don’t speak right away; they’ve learned silence isn’t distance.

“Didn’t think you’d last here.” Kessa admits

“Didn’t think I would either.”

“But you did.”

“Not alone.”

That hangs there, not heavy, just true. Leaning back, arms crossed over her knees.

“Tomorrow’s the hard part. But it’s the real part too.”

He nods “Good. I’m tired of pretending to be dead.”

She doesn’t answer right away “You’re not. Not anymore.”

The fire cracks. Arravox hums again, softer this time. Under the stars hidden behind sulfur clouds, the two of them sit—quiet and alive, with the weight of the next day ahead of them, and a small, solid trust behind.

[noxitsnox]

rivals in rhythm - ch. iii

jake sim x m!reader

summary: jake and y/n make up after their fight

tags: hurt/comfort, 8th member reader, jakes needs and deserves a hug, rivals to lovers, really really slow burn, use or y/n, heeseung became the group therapist, f/idol used cause I didn't wanna bring any girl into this

a/n: this took way too long, sorry :((( april was such a horrible month let's not talk about it.

anywaysss my requests are open so yk send them in!

m.list prev next

you were so cool about this whole situation. really, confronting jake and moving forward didn't bother you at all. the fact that you didn't even have the courage to look the poor guy in the face was completely unrelated.

for once, you realized your actions had consequences and this was the direct consequence to years of- not so- silent resentment. the moment jake started disliking you too, something you wished for ages, you realized you actually wanted to befriend him.

for years jake has eaten crumbs of your affection from the palms of your hands and you have ignored him, even hated him, but now that he has found a better plate to eat from you realized you wanted to offer him a whole banquet.

it's true that he who has bread has no teeth.

for the whole day you went close to him, opened your mouth to talk and then walked away without saying anything. you could feel heeseung's disappointed eyes on you every single time.

who decided that apologizing had to be so difficult?

“jake, can we talk after we're done with practice? after everyone else leaves, i mean.”

“uh… sure, yeah."

and you were one step closer to your goal.

now you just had to think about what you had to say.

your first instinct was to get mad, accuse him of being selfish and lazy, that he didn't belong in the band and that he never even tried to. why? there wasn't really a reason why, it was the easiest way to deal with your emotions. jake had always had a weird effect on you, you couldn't think rationally when he was near. whether it was hate or something else entirely, he made your heart burn like no one else ever has; even your past partners couldn't compete. they said love and hate were similar, that they made you feel the same way… but to you, hate had a much stronger grip than love. so much that when the object of your hate wasn't paying it any mind anymore you felt lost and empty.

but thankfully practice was hours long and you had time to think about it and change your mind, practice a more normal and less accusatory speech in your head.

your dancing was off because of all this thinking and jake offered to help you with the choreo. humiliating. really, why him of all people? eight members, seven without you, and he had to make that comment.

---

“jake, i think we've come too far… things have gotten weird between us-” “things were always weird.”

he was tired. he talked to heeseung to try and understand you. heeseung to just ignore your behavior, that it would make you stop even acknowledging his presence… which yeah, it was good, but he really wanted to be friends, or at least someone you know. you lived and worked together, what was the point in ignoring each other? that's not how he wanted to live.

maybe it was better off this way.

no matter how much he tried to befriend you, he'd always fucked up in some way on another. you hated him, obviously, and he just had to match your vibe. after all, why would you want to be nice to someone who is not nice to you? shouldn't he have some self respect?

the more he thought about it the more reasons he had to hate you.

and he was convinced that he would never change his mind about you… but then you went and asked him to talk and his heart simply melted. he was too kind, but he didn't want to show you were already forgiven so he decided to act mad for a little while. it wasn't difficult, he thought, he'd just have to act a bit colder, distant.

he was wrong, it was so unnatural. to be mad and to act mad were two very different things.

“y/n, why do you do this? it's like you already hated me before even knowing me, i never had a chance with you.”

silence.

you looked down at the floor, suddenly so interested in the parquet. that was the whole point, jake- you thought. you don't have a reason.

“that's just the way i feel, there's no reason why…” a whisper, barely audible as if you almost wished he wouldn't hear you. “but, i wanna change that. i really do.”

jake looked at you, unconvinced and unbothered. it was so uncharacteristic of him, a shiver ran down your spine. "yeah, let's see about that."

and if you had doubts before, you definetely didn't have them now. seeing jake so down is always bad, enough to ruin your day. It's like leaving your house expecting sunshine and finding rain...

---

the next few days were a bit awkward but not too bad. you barely interacted with jake, but when you did you tried to refrain from teasing him. good way to move on. slowly the two of you became closer, you even managed a few hang outs without fighting.

jake was back to being his old sun kissed self and you, well you for some reason never stopped feeling like you hated him. it wasn't really about what you actually felt like towards him, it's just that your heart never stopped beating so fast when he was near, and that feeling of lunch moving in your stomach was still there every time he talked to you. it was exhausting, even now that you were trying to like him your body was forcing you to do the opposite.

heeseung once tried telling you that maybe those things weren't caused by the hate. you didn't understand what he meant until today.

you were scrolling on twitter before going to bed, someone complained about uni, others about life in general and everything was normal until you saw that one post:

enhypen jake spotted on a date with f/idol.

when you saw those pictures you felt a part of you sink down in thw ocean. it was wrong, you knew how the media worked by now. every single interaction with a idol of the different sex was enough to start a ship and you knew so well that this was exactly what happened. but for some reason, even the distant idea that maybe jake was in a relationship with anyone caused you a huge sense of discomfort. you felt empty, your heart was heavy in your chest.

finally you understood heeseung's words. it wasn't hate, but the complete opposite. maybe, just maybe you had a crush on jake.

that would be the first time in so lon- with a schedule so packed you didn't have time to have crushes. how were you even supposed to deal with it?

@exactlyinfp @rairaiblog @nootnootpinguuu @gnusihcom @scary-thingz @naelvze

[chemdisaster]

"as long as it's not against a cc's boundary-" shut the fuck up. shut the fuck up. a boundary is what they're okay with being sent/tagged in. a boundary is not them telling fans to "draw this and not that". that's censorship. if some random tumblr person told you "oh hey, don't draw this ship cause i don't like it" would you comply? no, cause that's horseshit. and it's no different here. because guess what? cc's are people just like the rest of you, and if they don't like something they are fully capable of blocking the tag and/or clicking away. cc's are not better than you somehow and they should not dictate what you should and shouldn't draw, because art is fiction and fiction harms no one and one of the best thing about the internet is that when you don't like something you can just take a deep breath, close your eyes and click away.

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

I think I need that "Wow, I haven't stubbed my toe in five months! I was then shot fifty-seven times." Audio again

[tsukasalover]

I can think of a lot of reasons why I like and have gotten attached to tsukasa more than any other fictional character and i think if i had to keep it simple (or else id be rambling for hours) id say

1. He’s so interesting. I usually pick up the extremely mischaracterized blonde characters anyways but he gets my brain working real hard. its almost 2am and i cant think straight but theres something about his duality that keeps me glued to him and the amount of Layers he has and how removing even one layer or completely ignoring how both his huge ego and kindness + selflessness coexist can really mess up your perception of him. There was something quite short i wrote about how both sides make him. Well. Him. back when his colofes dropped since i was so annoyed at the people Not getting it (while most never even read the STORIES 😁) anf ive been screaming this for a year now Please. Also the way his dream and being a good big brother go hand in hand have captured me. I really like fictional siblings and they fill something personal i miss and Looove looking at the roots of characters. Discovering where this and that and connecting events to what started their behaviors or helped their personality bloom. So seeing saki and toya play such an important role in his life keeps me HOOOKEDDD. I took the bait like tiny fish. Dont regret it. Never will. I like my fictional characters like layered cake. Thats basically how i see them. I had a yummy chocolate cake with so mant layers the other day 🤤 but anyways. I also really like when characters have to learn and grow as people after making really bad mistakes or being straight up assholes so it really took a while even after mainstory but once i got to see more of him with saki and read dazzling i was like. This is the guyyy. Youre mine now lets go. I dont like perfect characters but.. you see.. when characters who have (sometimes way too much) confidence and are dramatic yet are shown to truly be good people who enjoy making others happy… alright.. now im listening… Sign me up…

But really he has almost everything I’ve ever looked for in a character. Starting with the fact that he’s a theatre kid. And blonde. Of course emu nene and rui + more fictional characters have made their way into my heart and ive gotten attached to them on very Very personal levels but when it comes to this Idiot who wants to be a star and reminds me of a dog its something that i dont even know how to explain sometimes. Why is he here? What are you doing inside of my head. Ill never have one solid answer because he takes up too much space in my mind and i become incoherent too often when talking about him.

2. Ignoring my first answer, He is ugly. My favorite punching bag. Cartoon character. Begins floating when he smells pie. I dont know anymore

3. he just like me fr (Which is terrible i dont like that)

[fobnsfwdoodlesbackup]

Hi y'all, I just wanted to talk a little about the behind the scenes of what I've been up to, to give y'all a little transparency and to open myself up for any tips or input! 🙏 Thank you for your continued support and for taking the time to look at my art 🫶

First and foremost I wanted to give some transparency about my art capacity.

As og followers may remember, I started this blog when I was doing art full time. Eventually my living expenses grew and I had to go back to work. I find myself in a cycle of "I'll make more art soon, once I get a job!" And "I'll make more art soon, once I am done with this job!" I lost my most recent job suddenly, having had an extension waved over my head until the last day(October 7th). Now I'm excited to have more time for art, but I am also feeling a rush to get a new job ASAP as I've been living paycheck to paycheck. I dream of doing this work full time, I'm just scared it's not quite there yet and I worry that I come off as scammy or dishonest when I anticipate more stability around the corner.

Second, I've been struggling with the Patreon. It's taken me a while to come to terms with this, but from what I've seen Patreon is not intuitive at all from the creator end. It doesn't do a good job of organizing addresses, emails, showing who or who isn't subscribed to me, or organizing and displaying the work I put on there. I've been really shocked by this experience, since lots of big names use Patreon. It's been a great way to streamline support, but it's been unhelpful in every other regard. I would like to continue using it, but I will most likely post more wips or process videos there in the future.

Which brings me to my third point, zines. I love making zines so much, it feels personal and fulfilling and fun! However the Patreon issues make it harder to keep information in order about where to send zines, or even where to message folks about them. In addition to this, the post office has been a big barrier to me, oftentimes only being open at the same time as my dayjob. Making zines can take days, then sending them out is a whole other monster.

This work is so important to me. Drawing peoples fantasies, representing body types, creating work around sexuality and the human experience feels like what I'm meant to do. I've made comics since I was a kid. This is the dream to me. The friends I've been able to make through this work are so important to me, and the conversations have been invaluable. Not to mention fun! I wanna doodle, I wanna draw hot stuff, I wanna thirst over these dudes! I want to play!

But I also just want to be transparent about the barriers I'm working around to share that experience. I'm completely self taught, both in art AND in running shops, building websites, running 8 accounts, etc. I take a lot of time to learn the logistics of these things, and try to make them make sense for my relationship with y'all (I do not want to paywall my art!! I don't want to!!!). This year my desktop broke down (the main one I use for all paintings and digital art). I've paused my Etsy shops and my Patreon to try to catch up with things. Trying to learn to paint in a completely different program. Then lost my job with no savings.

At the end of the day I don't want anything to come between me sharing my art with you. I wish I could doodle a thing, take a picture, and post it here. No third party site, no shop, no subscription. Just sharing my art with you. I promise I'm trying to figure out how to stay as close to that as possible, and I want to thank y'all for sticking with me as I untangle all of that.

So, what can you expect in the near future?

I'm working on a couple of painting commissions right now, which you should be able to see in the next couple of days! I want to catch up on kinktober and get those posted as well. There's a comic commission in progress which I'm very eager to work on, and which I think y'all will be excited for! To ease the weight of the Patreon I think I may do less zines/polls there and more wips and process videos! If possible, I want to do more full colored work too.

Thank you again for enjoying my work, and if you have any input or tips my inbox is always open 🙏🫶💕

[kirisclangen]

Zelda

She/her, 65 moons, cis molly

[hyperfixhell]

Can someone please please please start making forcemasc posts about continuing to forcemasc people WHILE they're on testosterone? Like it's a lot of the starting steps in these communities but it can feel like every day is a struggle once you've already started it. I keep getting misgendered at work and I already have a ratty t boy mustache, and my voice is dropping and yet. Here I am. Fighting the good fight. I just want a bit more love to all this. it feels like being the forgotten middle kid of this sub culture yah know? Im not rageful or anything but like,,, im not a bear yet but im ON T. im not a weird girl who hasnt realized, all the love to the eggs out there but ive been out for 6 long hard years. I'm saying we need to have more diversity in the sort of stuff we're posting AND what we're posting about. While im on the topic i wanna call out the lack of people of color with the aesthetic posts, it's mostly skinny white people. And though, as a white person I'd love to see more of my own body type on the posts whats far more important is diversity in skin tone/race.

[quarks-pussy]

So I know we here at Startrekfandom love that "came back wrong but from the pov of the wrong" thing and apply it to many different characters and canon situations and I am far from trying to complain about it (I'm "came out wrong" trope myself so I was always gonna obsess over it) but having recently watched a very important episode (you'll know which one) for the first time I think there's a character who hits both tropes mentioned but llike, intertwined, opposite and subverted, and whom I wanna talk about.

Julian Bashir.

From his parents' pov he's "came out wrong but we got him help and he came back better" while from his own pov it's "came out 'insufficient', was destroyed for it, came back wrong and only later slowly came to terms with his new self tho never the process (justifiably so)" and it's heartbreaking because in a way, he's right! Jules Bashir died! His parents had an intellectually disabled child and decided to eugenics him! Julian is not the person he used to be and while I do love the person he is now, that doesn't bring back who he was! Part of me wishes we could've gotten to see Jules at least once and part of me hopes we never do because my heart would shatter.

This isn't a good comparison but nonetheless one I can't help drawing: it's giving similar vibes to anti-vaxxers. "I'd rather risk having a child who is dead than one who's autistic". Obviously this doesn't map over since Julian is still autistic and the procedure his parents subjected him to specifically targeted his intellectual disability and if any folks with id wanna comment on this I definitely recommend you listen to them over me, but it's a similarity I, as an autistic who has encountered anti-vaxxers again and again, can't help but point out. "Give me a normal child or give them death."

This may have been written about already but there needs to be stories about teenage Julian (after finding out and rediscovering who he was) practicing some good ol' recognition of the self through media. I need to hear about how he would encounter a story about someone who came back wrong (I'm gonna assume there's plenty of "wrong" pov stories floating around by the 24th century) and absolutely weep. I need to see Julian mourning Jules, taking years and years to process his feelings, experiencing guilt about how he, the imposter, didn't deserve to live Jules' life.

Came back wrong from the returned's pov but it wasn't an accident. It was done to you deliberately by the people who claim to love you. And now you are here, piloting the corpse of your predecessor.

Jules Bashir is dead. Long live Julian Bashir.

[milfbrainrot]

admittedly we do not know anything abt most of the new characters yet and assuming she's not in LoL that includes Maddie but it is... a lil odd to see infantilization of her at this stage.

I get she seems like a ray of sunshine character so far but "girl has no idea what martial law means 💔" kind of jokes are making me think abt how if maddie IS just a naive enforcer thinking she's doing good for piltover, she'd still... know what martial law and fascism etc entail. She'd just think those things are Good and Just!

Idk not to take jokes too seriously but there's something interesting abt what makes a character complicit in horrors esp when they seem so nice, and I feel like that's kinda being brushed aside w the interpretations that she is just an oblivious kid... esp since those jokes are about the scene where she's supporting Cait's dictatorship promotion which is after she's literally been in Zaun with her gassing people lmao.

She knows what's going on. Her framing of it is just extremely biased. Maybe a bit naive of her if so, but not stupid yknow.

[hauntingblue]

Ace...?? they cloned my beautiful wife...